#Do y’all have any AU name suggestions maybe if I do make this into a full fledged comic? (Someday) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunmoonjune · 2 years

Text

gods and monsters

pairing: gojo satoru x fem!reader x geto suguru (poly!) [pacific rim!au]

warnings: minors dni!! gore, death, injuries, blood, allusions to wanting to die, enemies/rivals to friends to lovers (I guess?), fighting, monsters, angst with a happy ending, single parent au! with megumi (I can’t resist this trope with satosugu for some reason), tons of fluff too!, heavy suggestive themes but no actual smut, reader has a brother, reader is never referred to as [name] or y/n, only as nicknames or ‘Red’ (a pilot nickname), plenty of references to the first Pacific Rim movie, apologies for any ooc behavior :((

word count: 27.6k

a/n: ok, so maybe I have a problem. I definitely didn’t intend for this to be so long, I just kept imagining a new scene and getting more ideas and I just couldn’t stop writing them down. somehow satosugu rattles my brain and makes insane amounts of dopamine just like rush through me. anyway, I hope y’all enjoy this fic, it’s definitely a monster :D

here’s the ao3 link if Tumblr crashes

The last time you were in a Jaeger, the smell of smoke and ash filtered through your lungs and the grime of blood and soot rubbed your wounds raw under your drive-suit. The metallic sound of gears grinding and fire roaring are dull to your ears as the influx of graphic, hellish memories filter through your consciousness.

The once two-hundred foot hunk of metal had been brought to its knees, left arm ripped from its side and electrical fires clouding the air around its hull in a dark haze. The Scarlet Dragon, previously a crimson-red, Mark-3 mass of destruction, was now nothing more than scraps – the dull, sanguine metal tilting forward to collapse onto the coastline.

As the whirring of the Jaeger’s engine silences, the air is filled with only the sounds of roaring flames and waves breaking against the machinery. Inside the Scarlet Dragon’s cockpit, you - the only remaining pilot, fight for your life: battling against the needles dug into your spine and attempting to free yourself from the technology that bound you to the pilot seat. When the hair thin needles finally pull away from your skin, you heave a wet cough, choking on the smoke that fills the hull. Left arm numb and nearly paralyzed, blood dripping into the drive-suit, you pull yourself to your knees.

Ears roaring from the fight and the breach in the Dragon’s hull, you can’t hear anything over the ringing sound that echoes in your skull. Shrieking a pained cry, you fall onto your hands and knees, unable to support your own weight with your injuries. Eyes shifting over to the side of the cockpit, you exhale an anguished sob at the empty space to your left. There’s a gaping hole in the Jaeger’s left side, where both the arm and half the Scarlet Dragon’s head have been ripped to pieces.

The space of the missing pilot’s seat stares menacingly back at the only remaining form in the Jaeger’s skull.

An agonizing sob rips from your throat, tearing a guttural sound from your lips. A bolt of pain echoes through your heart, the screams of your copilot still filtering through your ears and the mind-melding agony of their body being torn apart still lingers under your skin.

Shaking your head to get rid of the memory, you drag yourself to the cavernous hole in the Scarlet Dragon’s cockpit. Hands slicing open over the pointed shrapnel, you manage to pull yourself through the massive gap in the crimson metal. Your body falls a few feet to the packed sand below, a throbbing bolt of pain flowing through your chest, where cracked ribs and bruised skin lay.

Laying immobile on the sand, you can’t hear anything over the memory of your brother being ripped from his seat, crying out his name as sparks crack through the empty cockpit. Around you, fires continue to roar as the shattered Jaeger continues to fall apart.

It’ll only be moments before rescue helicopters manage to reach your location – the tracker in the drive-suit is seldom wrong. All your broken form can do is force yourself to breathe. The rise and fall of your chest sparks only more pain, but it’s all you can do under the circumstances. You almost give into the darkness, ready to join your brother and succumb to the agony that overtakes your senses. However, the echo of your brother’s voice sinks into your brain, startling your senses and reminding you of the reason you became a pilot.

Heaving another sob, you cry out as the shift of your ribs throbs painfully in your chest. The sounds of a helicopter’s wings beating through the air fill your ears, and a shining light burns brightly into your cornea as the search light finally finds your defeated body. Outside your mind, there’s a cacophony of noise as search-and-rescue soldiers scramble to save your broken form; orders are being shouted through headsets and questions are passed about the vital signs that your drive-suit is still reporting.

However, you can't hear any of it over the memory that still flashes back and forth in front of your vision. You can still see your brother’s face when he turns to look at you. His eyes were wide and anxious, lips parted as he tried to pass along his final wishes. You can still feel his shock and agony through the Drift.

Every moment of his dying anguish was your own.

You were still connected in the Drift when he’d been torn from his seat. All his thoughts - all his feelings - were your own. Connected in both mind and body in the Jaeger; you could feel his pain as if it was your own skin being ripped from bone.

After being ripped from the cockpit, you were left in agony. Chest screaming under the weight of both your emotions coupled with your brothers, your brain seems to crumple under the strain of piloting the Scarlet Dragon on your own.

Jaegers were not meant to be piloted alone.

The mental and physical strain was too much for a single neurological system to maintain. With your copilot gone, the weight begins to sink onto your skull. It feels as though the mass of the machine itself was collapsing onto your body. With no one else to share the load, you were forced to battle the remaining monster alone; the first soldier to ever pilot a Jaeger and slaughter a Kaiju alone.

When you cough out another breath, there’s blood on your lips. Your cracked, possibly shattered, ribcage has likely pierced your lungs. It’s agonizing to breathe, but you keep the rise and fall of your chest as steady as you can.

Around you, there’s chaos. Soldiers, having reached the sand from the rescue helicopters, are frantically pulling gauze tight over the wound in your chest. You don’t even have the energy to wince when the fabric is pulled tight across your ribs. There's more shouting, but it's so muffled to your eardrums. A soldier waves a flashlight over your eyes, scanning your pupils and attempting to gauge your response to the stimulation.

The soldier clicks the light off, whipping his head over his shoulder to shout something at another. Their eyes are frantic, bodies stiff as they load your form into a rescue stretcher. Once it’s secured tightly by rope to the helicopter, the soldier gives a circled wave of his hand, a muffled shout of confirmation ripping through his headset.

As your body is airlifted into the sky, a final glimpse of the Scarlet Dragon’s defeated form reaches your weakened eyes – the sanguine metal glinting in the fading sunlight. Smoke still burning high into the sky and orange flames licking at the crushed machinery.

It’s one last look at the Mark-3 Jaeger; a final farewell to the piece of machinery that you had once held so dearly in your heart.

As you turn your head away from the burning metal, the fading sun shines into your eyes as you begin to succumb to the weight on your body. Darkness closes around your vision, and despite your best efforts to hold on, each breath becomes harder than the last. With a fading breath and eyes drooping closed, you make a promise. To both your brother and yourself, you promise that your fight is now over. You can’t imagine continuing on with another pilot – the thought of someone else in your head, poking through your memories, your thoughts and dreams – terrifies you. With your brother, it was different: only nine months apart, you had practically been twins. You’d been at each other’s side for everything, and the thought of piloting a Jaeger with a copilot who wasn’t him, was a task too daunting to imagine.

So you promise. As your body succumbs to its wounds and your mind fades to darkness, you promise.

This was the last time you’d ever be in a Jaeger.

It’s six years later when the Marshall finds you.

You've been working on-and-off jobs, just trying to make ends meet and keep yourself busy. The work is good. It’s not healthy, but burying yourself in a strenuous job doesn’t leave much time for your brain to relive old memories. For the past year and a half, you’ve been working on the coastal wall. It’s not a job you had planned to ever take, knowing it wouldn’t withstand any Kaiju stronger than a Class Two, but it pays pretty well. The added bonus of manual labor ensures that you’ll be too tired in the evenings to stay awake and lament in past tragedy.

You’re hauling a bag of powdered cement to the next workplace when you hear the familiar sound of helicopter blades beating against the wind. It’s loud, but not overpowering as the sounds of metal scraping against each other and saw blades whirling fill the atmosphere. You ignore it in favor of finishing your tasks, continuing to lug heavy bags over your shoulder before continuing onto the next job.

When the final bag hits the floor with an echoing thud, the atmosphere falls quiet. The silence is eerie and unsettling. You’re used to the wall being filled with chatter and boots scuffing against concrete. The sounds of metal being welded and tools rattling come to a stop, a foreboding stillness falling into its place.

Eyes fall to your form. Workers turn their heads to look at you, their gazes slip away from their tasks in order to settle on you. You ignore them, continuing to adjust your gloves instead. Tightening the straps around your wrists, you fiddle with the thick material. You can feel eyes piercing into your skin, but it’s nothing you’re not used to. Being a Jaeger pilot meant all eyes were on you, a feeling you had hated when you were on active duty. Now, the feeling just irks you. It settles like grime on your skin, and you long to wipe the feeling off to get rid of their leering stares.

The echo of heavy footsteps is heard behind you. The steps are sharp and dutiful, each step falling in the exact succession as the last. They’re military footsteps, you easily recognize. However, you already had a lingering suspicion when the room fell quiet. You don't look up. Instead, a deep sigh filters through your lungs as you stare directly in front of you.

“Long time no see, Marshall.”

Your voice fills the quiet room, echoing through the silence as you greet your former employer. When you turn to face the stoic face of the Marshall, your lips tighten in their blank expression. You greet him with a sharp nod; it’s been years since you’d saluted your former commanding officer, and you’re not sure you’re ready to start again.

“Officer Red.”

You stare at each other for a moment, neither speaking a word as the silence in the room becomes uncanny. The workers have not returned to their posts, still watching the two of you in a quiet stand-off. Their gazes are inquisitive and you hate the way it burns into your skin.

It’s been a long time since you’ve been referred to as your ‘call-sign’. The name ‘Red’ had been tagged to you like an aviator’s call-sign after you and your brother became synonymous with your Jaeger. The Scarlet Dragon had been your namesake, giving you the sort of nickname after the machine’s sanguine red color.

Eventually, the Marshall’s body turns, inclining his shoulder to motion behind him. His deadpan expression does not change, so neither does yours.

“May I speak to you for a moment?” Though it’s phrased as a question, you know the Marshall is not asking for permission. He turns on his heel and begins walking back towards the helicopter, knowing there won’t be any prying eyes or inquisitive ears further away. You dutifully follow. You’ve never been one to defy direct orders, even if he’s no longer your commanding officer.

Your footsteps match in time, the pilot’s mindset never quite leaving your brain. When you exit the wall’s interior, you’re met with a blistering cold. It’s snowing out, thick white flakes clouding the skies outside the overhang you and the Marshall take shelter under. The thick winter coat keeps you warm, but you still sniffle at the change in temperature.

“With all due respect, Sir -” you begin. “Could this not wait a few more days? You know I’m headed to visit Megumi at base - why come all this way?”

You know the Marshall is well aware of your near weekly visits. They had to be cleared by his signature, so there’s no reason he would be unaware of your planned stop at your old headquarters. You don’t often go further in the base than the little orphanage housed near the front, but you still visit frequently. The little house positioned not far from the entrance of the secluded base is home to the few orphaned children that live in the Shatterdome. Most are kids from pilots that haven’t survived; they’re taken care of by the medicinal staff on site, and all their needs are provided for. Some get adopted and others don’t, but you still visit weekly to see Megumi.

The kid’s almost ten now.

He’d been so young when his parents had died, only a few years old when Toji Fushiguro and his wife’s Jaeger had been destroyed. They’d been close friends of yours - the Fushiguro’s, and their deaths had been a heavy toll in your heart. The incident weighed greatly on your consciousness, leaving you and your brother devastated for months. Toji had been a childhood friend of your family. You and your brother had grown up alongside the burly child, though your brother had always been closer to Toji than you.

However, it had been you, that Toji had pulled aside after Megumi’s birth.

He’d muttered grimly under his breath, hands clutching your forearm when he’d made you promise. Toji’s eyes were wary, as if unsure of what he was asking, but he continued nevertheless. He shifted on his feet, looking down at the floor and grunted under his breath. Toji was never good at showing emotions, unlike his wife. Though he persisted, his words spoke in silent volumes as he asked you to take care of Megumi should anything happen to his wife or himself.

You hadn’t realized the weight of his words then. It had seemed silly since you were all so young - just in your early twenties. However, you agreed, knowing that you would never let anything happen to Megumi should the worse occur.

When it did happen - the worst, you mean - you and your brother had been shattered. You mourned the loss of your friends, stepping away from piloting for a few weeks to cope with the gaping hole that had been left in your heart. However, you knew you couldn’t grieve for too long – there was someone who needed you more than you needed to mourn.

While there was still a bleeding wound aching in your chest, Megumi Fushiguro had just lost his parents. It was a blow more devastating than much else - one you and your brother had already experienced. You knew that you had to be there for the kid. He wouldn’t understand yet, being too young to realize that his parents were truly gone, but you followed through on your promise to Toji.

You looked after Megumi in the following years, becoming his only parental figure aside from your brother. Though he was older than you, your brother became more of a friend for Megumi, rather than a parental figure. You, on the other hand, cared for Megumi like a mother, knowing that he had no one else to lean on. You had not let the higher-ups force the boy into the base’s orphan program at first, insisting that you could care for him on your own. However, after some persuasion from the Marshall, you realized that letting the boy stay at the orphanage did not mean you wouldn’t be his primary caretaker. The Marshall signed off on the order, letting the program know that Megumi was not to be set up for adoption. You expressed wanting to adopt him when he was ready, a sentiment you made clear to Megumi in his later years.

For now, you resolved with visiting him weekly at the base. When you had the chance, you tried to drop by as often as you could, making your face known to the few other children at the program. For now, Megumi was content with waiting at the base’s orphanage, knowing you didn’t have a stable place to reside just yet. You weren’t ready to take him away from his only friends either, knowing he’d bonded strongly to Itadori Yuuji, another one of the children cared for at the base.

The Marshall answers your question with a quick shake of his head. His fists are held in front of him in a wide stance, his shoulders set low as he begins to explain.

“The Jaeger program has been scrapped, Red. Command believes that the Wall is sufficient protection for the future and has revoked funds towards the Jaeger program.”

You still.

The coastal wall will not hold as Command believes. You’ve seen footage of Class Three Kaiju tearing through the wall in less than an hour. It will not protect the human population in the future as they believe it will. A sinking feeling forms in your gut. Without the Jaegers, there is little hope for a future without the destruction of the Kaiju.

“They’ve allowed enough funding to finish the year through, then all Jaeger’s will be decommissioned and the pilots will be dismissed. No further machines will be built.”

You shift on your feet, wringing your hands together in the thick gloves that cover them. A lingering anxiety is beginning to settle in the depths of your stomach.

“So, what does that mean?” You whisper, still not understanding his presence at the wall, nor his urge to speak with you.

“It means we have enough funding to take one final shot at The Breach.”

“But, Sir -” you start, stepping forward with a furrow in your eyebrows.

The Marshall raises a hand to silence your interruption. You fall silent, recognizing the command and knowing you’ve stepped out of line.

“We need as many pilots as we can get to run an operation like this. Only six Jaeger’s remain, and we have even fewer pilots.” He finishes. In the silence that follows, you recognize why he’s come to the wall. He hasn’t come to inform you of the program’s demolition, nor the dismissal of the pilots – he’s come to ask you to pilot a Jaeger.

Already shaking your head in disagreement, you step back away from the Marshall. There's twisting in your stomach and a faint ringing in your ears. You can still feel the phantom pain in your left arm, and you rub the shoulder to ease the ache.

“Sir, I’ve been very clear that I no longer wish to pilot a Jaeger.” Your words are firm and final, offering no room for argument. You’ve had this conversation with the Marshall before. It ended in similar circumstances, with your refusal to enter another machine and the Marshall’s exasperation.

The Marshall opens his mouth to protest, beginning to offer an argument to persuade you to change your mind, but you cut him off.

“I was still connected to my brother when he died, Marshall.” Your words are heavy and your tone offers some sense of guilt. “In the Drift, I felt everything he did – every glimpse of fear and every wave of pain. I can’t do that again. I can’t let another pilot in my head like that.”

The Marshall sighs, looking down at his feet. It’s the first time he’s looked away from you since he’d arrived. You know that your brother’s death weighed heavily on his mind too. Your brother had been a good pilot and an even better friend. Nearly everyone on the base had known him, including the Marshall. He feels the same lingering guilt in his chest at the memory of the incident.

“Officer -” The Marshall begins. “I’m not asking you to come back to pilot – not yet, anyways. I’m asking you to come back to the Shatterdome. If you won’t enter another Jaeger, at least help train the cadets. They could use the knowledge you have.”

You sigh, looking away from the Marshall again and consider his offer. You know if you return he’ll continue to attempt to persuade you, but it’s not as if he wouldn’t persist regardless. Though you’ve sworn off piloting, helping the new recruits with real combat experience could aid in the operation to take The Breach.

Besides, the offer to stay closer to Megumi is tempting.

“Red.” The Marshall’s tense voice fills the silence. “You’re the only pilot to ever survive controlling a Jaeger on your own. We can’t lose that kind of strength.”

You toe the snow with your boot, mulling the offer over in your head. The smell of the Shatterdome nearly wafts through your senses as you reminisce in memories of the place you once called ‘home.’ While it brings back agonizing memories of those you’ve lost, you also filter through happier memories; those with old friends, sharing dinners and loudly laughing over the cacophony of the cafeteria’s dining area. You muse about the happier times when you and your fellow pilots gathered around small tables to play card games and share stories in the faint light of the Jaegers.

Looking back up at the Marshall, you take a deep sigh and offer him a tense-lipped, barely-there smile. You pull your arms over your chest, crossing them to rest against you.

“Alright, Marshall.” You decide. “But I want plenty of time to spend with the kid.”

He nods, accepting your terms as he lets out a breath of relief. When he sets his shoulders back into a stiff, formal position, there’s a sense of reprieve on his face. It’s as if he had expected to return to the Shatterdome alone. With a roll of your eyes, you tilt your shoulder back towards the entrance to the Wall. The bitter cold is starting to sink under your coat and you ache to return to the interior.

“Let me pack my things, Marshall.” You finally decide. “I can be ready in fifteen.”

When you step foot onto the wet concrete of the Shatterdome, it’s as if nothing has changed. The smell of oil and metal fill your senses, and the sounds of gears grinding and engines whirling enter your ears. It fills you with an aura of pure nostalgia that settles over your chest in a blanket of both fond and painful memories. The weight, though heavy on your ribs, is almost comforting. There's so many good memories that have a way of drowning out the mournful ones.

The rain falls in constant sheets, beating against the black material of your umbrella. Though loud, you find a bit of peace in the thunderous sound. Your addled brain welcomes the white noise as you take in the sights of the Shatterdome.

Towering walls greet your entrance, the familiar stone unchanged to the whims of time. You and the Marshall enter through the massive doors; they’re meant for Jaegers, the sliding machinery on the floor beneath you indicative of their necessary transportation. Since no Jaeger is being shuttled to battle at the moment, the doors remain open for soldiers to move to and from the Shatterdome.

Sliding into the elevator in silence, you shut your umbrella and shake off the excess water from its damp sides. Neither you nor the Marshall speak, but you’re grateful for the silence. It’s been years since you’ve entered the main hub of the Shatterdome, only entering the front rooms to visit and take care of Megumi. You had previously feared the rush of agonizing memories that you worried may take hold of your grieving mind. There was an inkling of caution in your gut, a suspicion that if you gave into the grief and visited your old ‘home,’ you would find yourself drowning in a sea of guilt with no anchor to grasp onto.

Now, the feeling is still there. It sits at the bottom of your gut in a solid lump that continues to twist your intestines in knots. However, it's less profound than you had imagined. While lingering, it doesn’t clog your throat or squeeze your chest tight. There’s a burning in your throat, but you’re able to suppress it.

There’s a feeling of enduring excitement, one you did not think would reappear when you entered the Shatterdome. While you had ceased the thought of piloting again, being around the Jaegers - around your old home - brought back lively memories. There are flashes of moments between your and your brother, of you and the Fushiguro’s – moments where you were so genuinely happy for the first time in a long time.

With a sad smile and a burning behind your eyes, you look down at your feet. You can barely resist the urge to cry, sucking in a breath to suppress the tears that push against the back of your eyelids. You’re unsure if they’re tears of grief or tears of happy nostalgia, but you refuse to cry in front of the Marshall.

He doesn’t appear to be looking at you, for which you are eternally grateful. Shuffling on his feet in the silence, he alerts you of the elevator reaching the main hub. You look up, eyes a little weary, but give him a determined smile nonetheless. The Marshall, ever a stoic man, merely returns the gesture with a slight incline of his head, and you find yourself chuckling under your breath.

When the elevator thuds against the bottom floor, you regain your steady balance and set your shoulders back with a determined huff. The creaking metal slides open and you’re met with the familiar noise of the hub of the Shatterdome. Carts are moving around, shuffling necessary gear to their proper terminals, and soldiers are striding back and forth. There’s sparks in the air from machinery working against the metal of the Jaegers and the familiar smell of steel in your nose.

It feels like home.

As much as you wish it wasn’t, the Shatterdome had always been your home.

Stepping out of the quiet elevator and into the chaos, a small smile graces your features. You inhale deeply and take in the sights of the Jaegers before you. It had been so long since their magnificence caught your eyes. They stand so tall, so daunting to any normal human. To you, they’re beautiful – machines of great capacity and eternal strength. You can almost feel the familiar hum of the Drift under their gaze.

You shake off the haze. While you still find yourself reveling in your love of the machines, you’re not quite ready to relive the Drift.

In front of you, there’s figures approaching the elevators. They're familiar, tall statures standing out of the crowd of nameless bodies. A wide grin falls onto your lips as your mouth stretches open to greet them.

“Kento! Yu!”

The familiar pilots of the Black Flash, a Mark-Four Jaeger of incredible speed and strength, smile as they approach you and the Marshall. Both men are tall, the crowds of soldiers parting to let the two pilots through the wake. The Black Flash is the second strongest Jaeger ever created, and the combination of its speed and agility with the intense drift compatibility of Kento Nanami and Yu Haibara makes the Black Flash a formidable opponent.

However, you simply know the two as old friends.

The Black Flash was once the Scarlet Dragon’s sideman. The four of you fought valiantly at each other’s side, rebounding off each other’s movements and brainstorming strategies as if it was the four of you connected in the Drift rather than two.

You held the two men dearly in your heart, the bonds between the three of you was nearly as close as you and your brother. It had been so long since you were able to spend moments in each other’s presence, having been interrupted by both your grief and your departure from the Jaeger Program.

You drop the formalities, chest aching in a nostalgic glee, and take off towards your old friends. Footsteps colliding with the ground at a rapid pace, you let ecstatic joy propel you towards the two.

Kento Nanami’s chest huffs a deep laugh when your body collides with his front. The impact is swift and powerful, nearly knocking Nanami off his feet, but he takes a step back to balance the combined weight of both your forms. Haibara laughs heartily at your side, his hand clapping Nanami’s shoulder with a wide smile. Nanami lets his arms wrap around your back in a friendly hug, squeezing tighter when you grasp him just as firmly.

You huff into his shoulder, overcome with both the joy of reuniting and the ache of separation. A piece of you regrets ever leaving the Shatterdome, You’d left behind good friends and Megumi, the kid you hoped to one day adopt when he was ready. However, you knew the separation had been good for you. There were too many painful memories in the Jaeger base to keep your grieving mind from recovering.

Nanami squeezes your form tight once more before you shift to hug Haibara. Your embrace with the darker haired man is just as firm, the two of you swaying in good natured joy as you hold each other tight.

“We’ve missed you, Red.” The warm tone of Haibara greets your ears. He mumbles the words just loud enough for you and Nanami to hear. When he lets you go, you smile happily at him with the weight in your stomach beginning to lift.

“God - I’ve missed you guys too.” There’s a hint of regret in your voice, the tone low and weary. You shuffle in between the two men, happy to be back at their side.

“You look good, Kid,” Nanami mumbles as he scans your figure. You had dug up the old uniform from years back, the material not too worn as it rubs against your skin. It feels nice to wear the suit once more.

You nudge Nanami with your hip with a giggle. “I told you not to call me that! I’m older than you, Kento.”

The blonde lets another soft chuckle fall from his lips, looking down at you as you laugh. He’s happy to see the smile on your features once more. When you’d left all those years ago, there had been nothing but cold-faced grief on your face. It brings a twist in his stomach to see the glee again.

The name had been one he’d picked up from your brother. Despite being a year younger than you, Nanami had always been the responsible one between you and your little quartet of chaos. Your brother had followed in the leadership role after Kento, despite being the oldest of you four. He had always taken to calling you ‘Kiddo,’ a name that Nanami soon picked up after years of fighting alongside you. While you were still older than him, Nanami nearly always acted older than you, taking a more responsible stance than you and Haibara. The nickname ‘Kid’ seemed to fall too naturally from his lips.

“You been taking good care of my kid while I was gone, Kento?”

Nanami nods in reference to Megumi. Since you were not living at the base and could only visit so often, Nanami had taken over caring for Megumi when you weren’t available. It wasn’t difficult, seeing as Nanami was usually visiting the orphanage for a certain pink-haired bundle of joy anyway. You were ecstatic when Megumi and Yuuji got along well, so happy that your future son got along well with Nanami’s future kid.

The two of you planned to adopt the respective boys as soon as you were able. It was taking a little longer than expected, seeing as Nanami was still a pilot and you were out of commission for a while, but you still dreamed of being able to care for the dark haired boy as your own.

Nanami nods, his glasses glinting in the light of the jaegers as he moves. “Gojo-san and Geto-san have been helping too.”

Your eyebrows furrow.

The mention of the two pilots has you frazzled. You never got along well with the pair, always rivaling them in training. Neither of them were very close to you or your brother, just competing against each other in passing, but you never took well to their cocky attitude and over-confidence in battle. While you didn’t necessarily despise either of them, you were still quite unsure of your feelings for either pilot.

You had heard their Jaeger, Limitless, had skyrocketed in fame after your departure from the program. Their Mark-4 Jaeger was incredibly strong. It was propelled by the strongest drift compatibility ever seen. Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru had an incredible closeness that launched their drift compatibility to unknown heights. They seemed to be able to read each other’s minds even without the Drift connecting them. Their Jaeger was by far the strongest the program had ever seen. Like Toji and his wife, Gojo and Geto were connected by more than the Drift – having been together since the moment you met them.

Lips turning downward in a frown as you think of their daring grins, you grimly reply. “What do they want with Megumi?”

“Nothing, Red -” Nanami responds. “They’ve just taken to the kid. He’s got a good heart, you know?”

The mention of Megumi has the frown on your lips drifting away, instead a warm smile taking its place. While he wasn't a very emotional kid, often keeping a neutral face and keeping his voice monotone, Megumi had a big heart. He always made sure to make the other kids feel welcome, and even was the first to reach out to Yuuji when he’d been brought to the orphanage.

“Yeah,” you sigh. There’s a warmth in your eyes when you speak of the boy, something Nanami has noticed. “He’s a really good kid.”

Haibara laughs, swinging his arm over your shoulder as he nudges you towards a direction over your shoulder.

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?”

At his words, your head whips upward and over your shoulder. A few yards away, stands a little boy with ruffled black hair and dark eyes. While his features are settled into a sort of blank look, there's a shine in his eyes when he sets them on you. His little body seems to almost jerk upwards as he realizes who has entered the base. With his mouth falling open and eyes widening, he cries out.

“Okaasan!”

Your heart stutters in your chest and you inhale a sharp breath as your feet begin to move towards Megumi. He’s always taken to referring to you in a more formal manner, something you never minded. It still seemed to warm your heart and squeeze a lump in your throat when he still referred to you as his mother. You hadn’t really expected it. Megumi wasn’t one to refer to people as such, always speaking with good manners and calling others by their last names with the proper formality attached. When he first referred to you as his mother, you think you nearly cried. Knowing that he treasured you as his mother despite everything that happened was a gift you would never take for granted.

“Gumi!”

You drop to your knees when you’re close enough, allowing Megumi’s little body to crash into your chest. He looks so much like Toji. The features of your old friend bring a sense of warmth to your chest as you hug Megumi tight. You laugh with tears stinging in your eyes as you wrap your arms around his small form. Though he's almost ten, Megumi will always be a young boy in your eyes. He’s growing everyday, but you still feel the same sense of motherly affection when you see his face.

“Hey, Bub,” you mumble sweetly. “How are you feeling? Did ya’ miss me?”

Megumi nods against your chest, hair rubbing at your collarbone. There’s a little grin on his lips, one that many don’t often get to see, and it causes you to let out a little giggle. He squirms slightly when you squeeze him tight, always a little shy when it comes to affection. Megumi buries his face in your neck and a watery smile forms on your lips when you feel him mumble a little affirmation into your skin.

You grin again, hoisting the boy onto your hip as you stand. Megumi clutches your neck, legs hanging over your sides as you carry him. His expression is blank again, but you can see the little hints of joy in his features. His lips are curled just the slightest and his cheeks and eyes are relaxed. You bring your face closer to the boy, bumping your foreheads together with a giggle. Megumi pushes a little hand against your cheeks, whining a little when you rub your foreheads back and forth. While he’s still bashful when it comes to affection, you treasure every touch that Megumi allows.

Nanami and Haibara follow behind you, with the Marshall allowing them to show you towards your bunker. There’s soft smiles on both their lips, savoring the sight of you and your nearly-adopted son. The sight is familiar to them, one that used to be commonplace before you left. While you still frequently came back to visit Megumi, neither man had seen the welcome sight of the two of you together in a long while.

“What are you doing here, Fushiguro?” Nanami questions. His voice isn’t angry, only curious as to why the younger boy had been wandering the main hub. It was quite the distance from the upper level orphanage, and even though Megumi had grown up on base, wandering around was still a little dangerous.

“I heard Okaasan was coming home today,” he mumbles quietly into your neck. You bounce a little from side to side as you squeeze the boy tight, heart singing with a glee that you seldom experience without Megumi by your side.

Haibara ruffles Megumi’s hair with another laugh, turning back to Nanami as the three of you laugh amongst yourselves. Your conversation is only interrupted when the alarm sound of a Jaeger being transported echoes through the hub. Gears start to grind as the Shatterdome’s transport system comes alive. Jaegers are transported on moving platforms as soon as they dock, the massive machinery moving the Jaegers slowly and steadily back to their designated hangers.

When you turn towards the opening doors, the wind whips from outside as the hulking, dark form of Limitless becomes apparent. You clutch Megumi closer to your front, shielding his smaller body from the cold that sweeps into the indoor hub. As soon as the Jaeger’s feet lock into place, it begins to shut down, allowing Main Control to disconnect the pilots and take over for docking.

You don’t tear your eyes away from Limitless’ massive build. You clench your jaw as the sounds of the two pilots begin making their way down to the deck. Apparently, some press had forced their way on site; their camera drones hovering over the Jaeger’s body and whirring in the air. Cameras begin to flash as Gojo and Geto emerge from the transport elevator that connected them to the cockpit.

A rush of noise fills the hub as reporters begin shouting questions at the two pilots, and your lips draw back in a sneer as the two smirk and give the cameras cocky looks. You despise pilots who fight for fame. A sinking feeling of animosity lingers in your stomach as you watch Geto and Gojo answer questions and boast yet another Kaiju kill to the crowd. Turning away from the shouting, you look back at Nanami and Haibara, tilting your head towards the bunkers.

“Do you want to help me get settled in?”

Haibara nods, his gentle smile still lingering though he senses your unease. He and Nanami turn to make their way out of the hanger, feet twisting to move when a shout is heard from behind. Both men stop in their tracks, turning back to look at you, as if asking for your next move before proceeding. You sigh deeply, clutching Megumi tighter as he buries his head in your neck. He isn’t a big fan of the flashing lights that come with the crowds of reporters – something you’re very aware of.

“Hey, Sunshine!” The call comes from an all too familiar voice, one that you weren’t particularly excited to hear.

You whip your head over your shoulder, barely looking back at the two approaching pilots. Still wary of the journalists who begin to edge closer, you shoot a glare at the cameras. You despise being filmed by the media, especially after they pressed and crowded you after your brother’s death. They should know better than to approach, which it seems like they do. With a grunt you finally look back at Gojo, the white-haired pilot being the one to call out for you.

“What do you want, Six Eyes?”

Gojo doesn’t seem perturbed by the mutter of his call-sign, simply sticking his hands in his pockets and continuing to saunter over to you. Geto trails behind him, a similar sort of smirk on his lips. You often forget how similar they are. Though Geto hides it better, they’re both menaces in their own way. The two pilots amble towards you, an aura of confidence exuding from their forms.

“Here to reclaim your title?” Gojo questions, a grin falling too easily onto his features. His question furthers the ache in your gut, and you hoist Megumi farther up onto your hip. You shift him to face away from the pair, not wanting the boy to be involved.

“I’m afraid it might be a little difficult,” Geto continues, finishing his partner’s question. “Seeing as the Scarlet Dragon is out of commission, of course.”

You barely conceal a wince at the mention of your Jaeger. You can’t tell if he meant to jeer at your dead co-pilot, but the slightest edge in his voice still causes your body to shake in a scarcely hidden rage. Huffing out a deep sigh over the lump in your throat, you lean your head against Megumi when he tries to comfort you with a little squeeze. He likely can’t understand the conversation, but he probably senses your rising anger. Your heart throbs at his touching comfort, letting your forehead bump his before you turn to address Gojo and Geto.

“I couldn’t care less about your kill count, Stitches.” The words come out in a grunt, the tone clipped with a hint of anger. “I’m not here to pilot.”

“Then what are you here for?” Gojo questions, his hands crossing over his chest. His head is held high, and you hate the aura of superiority he’s protecting. “Last I checked, this program has no place for washed up pilots who got a little scared.”

You freeze.

The pit in your stomach is turning over itself in rage. Your skin is hot and the hairs stand on end. Barely able to repress the angry words you ache to spit back at the white-haired pilot, you instead fix your eyes in a cold glare. Face dropping to a blank, unnerving look, your lids shrink into a bitter look.

From behind Gojo, Geto lays a hand on his lover’s shoulder. He squeezes firmly, a sinking feeling in his gut erupting. You’ve gone too far, his knowing look says. Gojo doesn’t turn to face him, but Geto knows he understood, their bond too deep to miss the silent comment.

“Fuck off, Gojo.” You spit, pressing Megumi’s head back into your neck with the other hand to shield his ears from the words. You’re already turning to make your way back down the hall, the silence of the hub now seeming too loud. “That’s low, even for you.”

You don’t stick around to hear either man’s response, already shuffling away with Megumi now clinging to your front. Nanami and Haibara send blank looks over their shoulders, flanking either of your sides as the three of you begin to exit the quiet room.

“I won’t have them belittle me in front of my kid,” you mutter as you walk away. Geto doesn’t think he was meant to hear the words, but the twisting in his gut intensifies when he does. He rubs his hand down Gojo’s back with a rough sigh.

From over your shoulder, Megumi’s little head peeks out from over your shoulder. His dark hair ruffles against the wind from the still-opened bay doors, and his deep blue eyes look back at Gojo with a glimpse of sadness in his pupils. Gojo can’t seem to maintain eye contact with Megumi, a twisting feeling of guilt turning in his stomach. He looks down at his feet quickly, before turning to look at Suguru.

The dark-haired man seems to give Gojo a similar look, one of a guilty sadness that only his lover could decipher. Both men keep their emotions hidden well. They’re too aware of the clicking of cameras behind them, instead choosing to communicate in the silent way they know best. Gojo shrugs off the sinking feeling, sighing deeply and turning back to the cameras with a practiced smile.

“Sorry,” he mumbles under his breath towards Geto. “You know how they make me.” He offers a flick of his hand towards the reporters, the clicking of their cameras echoing through the silence. His gesture is vague, looking like a wave, Gojo’s moves practiced so that the camera cannot differentiate the angry undertone that Gojo wants to project.

“S’alright, ‘Toru,” Geto mutters back, his words hidden as he speaks from behind Gojo’s back. “But it’s not me you should apologize to.”

Gojo nods silently, resisting a glance behind him.

Behind the pair, your form disappears behind the elevator doors. With tears barely concealed, you press your face back into Megumi’s hair, letting his little body squeeze you tight as Haibara rubs a hand across your shoulders.

Sniffling a little, you pull back to give Megumi a watery smile. Memories of your brother and your last mission are hard to hide away, but you manage as you keep looking down at Megumi’s bright eyes. You don’t want to give Gojo and Geto the satisfaction of shaking you.

“Hey, Bud.” You whisper the words quietly, managing to muster a slightly cheerful tone. “You want to sleep in my room tonight?”

Nanami and Haibara muffle their chuckles as Megumi nods his head fervently in response to your question. You giggle, placing a kiss on Megumi’s dark hair despite his protests. Away from the chaos, the four of you manage an atmosphere of quiet happiness that you’ll never fail to miss. You savor their peace, looking back up at your old friends with watery eyes and a sad smile. Haibara leans into Nanami, the three of you happy to savor your friends once more.

Over the next few weeks, you can tell Gojo and Geto are trying to speak to you. Every time you stumble into the cafeteria area of the main hub, Megumi by your side - like always, both pilots perk up at your entrance. Gojo is usually the first to stand, stepping out from the table he’s seated at with his lips pressed into a gentle sort of smile. His eyes are covered, something he’s done since you’d met him, whether by dark glasses or a blindfold. You don’t know how he sees when the white cloth covers his eyes, but you’ve never had the opportunity to ask.

When Gojo shifts to make his way towards you, Nanami is typically the one to step in. He shifts, covering your form with his own so Gojo can’t see you. Haibara takes up your other side, chatting easily with you and making silly faces at Megumi to make the shy boy giggle and hide his face in your leg. Haibara doesn’t take any insult to Megumi’s shy, blank-faced behavior, used to the boy’s mannerisms. You’re grateful to both him and Nanami for their seemingly never ending patience.

Later in the afternoon, when you’re headed to watch over a class of cadets, you catch Geto’s dark eyes from the other end of the hall. They’re softened, as if there’s some lingering ache he wishes to soothe, but you ignore it. Despite how kind he looks, with gentle eyes and a soft smile, you turn quickly into your designated training space, letting the door fall shut behind you.

Over time, you find yourself noticing the two more and more. When there’s no reporters around, Gojo and Geto seem more easy going. Gojo, still as energetic as ever, slings his arm over Geto’s shoulders and whines something that you can’t hear. The teasing frown on his face is silly, and you turn away to muffle a giggle when Geto shoves his head away with a jesting smile and a roll of his eyes. Gojo’s whines increase in volume as his lover gently shoves him away with a laugh, but they quickly cease when Geto nudges him with his elbow and presses a quick kiss to Gojo’s head.

It’s quick. You almost miss the subtle movement of Geto’s lips against Gojo’s skin, as though you weren't meant to see it. Their affection for each other is subtle, as if they don’t like when the gaggle of media outlets catch their subtle touches. You sort of understand it, your own hatred for the flashing cameras may make you biased, but you understand the avoidance. Perhaps they don’t want their relationship in the limelight, something you have to give them credit for.

Despite all the confident smirks and easy remarks they hand out to reporters, it seems the two pilots hide a similar distaste for the media as you do.

However, you’re still not ready to speak with either of them quite yet. The twisted knots of anger still sit in your stomach in reference to the stab Gojo had taken on your first day back. Though, with each passing day, you begin to wonder if the enduring rage is focused at the two pilots, or if it settles into your gut next to the guilt that still lingers after losing your brother.

Either way, you know you’ll have to speak to them soon. Nanami and Haibara can only keep them away for so long.

It’s at a routine training session when you see them next. A few days a week, you take charge of a group of cadets and pair them against each other. In one of the Shatterdome’s practice halls, mats are laid out so that the hardened concrete floor doesn’t hurt anyone. In this room, your chosen pairs fight against each other, sometimes bare-fisted and sometimes with wooden staffs. As they battle against each other, in a match to seven points, you gauge their drift compatibility.

Each time a pair takes the floor, you watch each movement. You mark notes on the clipboard in your hands, writing down remarks of battle strategies and techniques of each cadet. You compare compatibility against other cadets, lining them up with their next partner to see if they’d make a better match than the previous.

As the next opponent gets thrown to the floor, a wooden staff at his head, you dryly call the match. “4 points to 3.”

Scribbling down your notes with a frown, you go through the list of cadets you’ve been tasked to train. There’s both negative and positive feedback, however, more improvements have been listed than anything else.

“What’s your problem?”

Your head shoots up at the angry voice. One of the cadets from the previous match stands at the head of the mat, his lips pulled back in an enraged look. He scans your form, stiff in the pilot’s uniform despite your status as a Captain. Your posture is formal, keeping your head held high and feet shoulder width apart.

You know both Geto and Gojo have been watching. Their forms linger at the back of the room, eyes scanning each match as you do. You allow them to stay, not wanting to call them out in front of all the soldiers. You find that you honestly don’t mind their presence that much. They’re both quiet, eyes flicking back and forth from the match to you. You manage to keep yourself calm under their gaze, a little perturbed at the hopeful feeling that washes over you knowing that they’re still waiting for you.

At the kid’s voice, Geto stands straighter. His eyebrows furrow and his lips turn downward into a frown. His black hair is tied back into its usual bun, a few strands peeking out from his bangs. They shift when he stands upright, leaning into Gojo’s side to murmur something that you don’t catch.

“Excuse me, Cadet?” Your voice is clipped, eyes scanning his form. He addressed you out of order, his panting form seeming angry despite his win in the previous match.

“Every time a match ends, you make this face - like you’re disappointed in the outcome,” the cadet grunts. One end of the wooden staff he’d been using is placed against the ground, his body leaning onto it for stability.

You tilt your head, scribbling down another piece of information before you look back at the kid with a blank expression. “I am disappointed. The match could have ended three moves previously.”

The kid huffs out an irate sound, shifting on his feet. “How do you know?”

“His weight was forced onto his non-dominant side. You had the upper-hand, yet you failed to knock him off balance when you struck his chest rather than delivering a blow that would force him to fall.”

Your explanation only seems to anger the cadet. He steps forward, lips pursed and eyebrows pulled together in rage. He nearly snarls as he approaches you, but you’re not intimidated. Silence has fallen over the room, the other cadets watching closely as the boy attempts to make his way towards you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Geto move from his place against the wall. He steps forward, stomach twisting when Gojo lays a hand on his chest. Neither man has taken their eyes off you, keenly watching your body for any command that you may need help. Gojo knows you’re strong – especially after the conversation you’d had. He knows that you’d ask for help if you need it. Though his stomach twists too, wanting to knock the kid away from you and soothe your anger, Gojo knows that you can handle yourself.

“You think you can do better?” The cadet snarls, almost at your feet. You haven’t moved, stance still formal and head held high. This kid doesn’t intimidate you, even if he was taller or broader than you. Refusing to move, you lock eyes with the boy, pressing him with a blank look and dead eyes.

“That’s enough, Cadet.” You command, voice sharp. “I am your Captain, and you will address me as such.”

Not backing down, the cadet continues to advance. Geto nearly moves to step forward once more when the kid speaks again.

“Why are you holding back then, Captain?” He sneers the words in a cocky tone. “You scared or something? You must be some kind of coward, then – it’s probably what got your brother kill -”

His words are cut off by the sharp point of your hand jabbing roughly into his kidney. Your movements were so quick, even Gojo missed them. When the cadet doubles over his stomach, one hand clutching the area where you’d punched him, you pull the staff out of his other limp hand. It comes free quickly, your hands sliding over the material with practiced ease. Before the cadet can move, you pull the end of the staff upwards, knocking the dull end under his chin with a resounding thud.

He cries out, the contact of the staff against his skin likely ringing through his head. As he does so, you’ve already dropped low, spinning with your feet and swiping the end of the staff under the cadet. With his balance interrupted, he falls to the ground with a dull thump, body hitting the floor as he wheezes for breath.

You’d laugh if the contemptuous anger wasn't sitting in your throat. He’d gone down so easily, just as you’d explained, yet he failed to see the error in his tactic.

You step forward, feet brushing the clipboard you dropped. Standing over the boy, you point the dull end of the staff under his chin. The silence in the room is loud, the other cadet’s seem to hold their breath as you frown. With his chest heaving and his chin pointed upwards away from your threatening staff, the boy’s eyes shake.

With the cold glare still in your eyes, you snarl down at the kid, “Don’t ever speak my brother’s name again. Do you hear me, Cadet?”

At your feet, the kid seems to shake. He’s challenged a direct order from his Captain, something he’s just realized. You’d knocked him on his ass for it too. Eyeing his form up and down with a pitiful curl of your lip, you huff with distaste.

“Next time you step out of line, I’ll drop your ass like a sack of Kaiju shit. Do you understand?”

Nodding fervently again, the boy’s chest shakes as he pants. He’s still clutching his chin, eyes wide in comparison to his previous anger. You press the end of your staff into his chest with your eyes fixed on him.

“I said - do you understand, Cadet?”

“Yes, Captain.” He mutters quickly, shifting his eyes to avoid your angry gaze.

“Good. Now get out of my sight,” you command. The boy scrambles up, nearly tripping when he tries to run towards the exit of the training room.

Gojo muffles a laugh under his breath, hiding his smile behind his hand as he does so. The ache in his gut vanishes, and in its place lies newfound warmth. The white haired pilot feels his stomach turn, but this time it’s not in anger or guilt. With your body movements so agile and your words so commanding, Gojo feels a twinge of heat in his stomach. The way you take charge of everyone in the room, standing tall and holding your head high is enchanting. Gojo finds himself looking at you even long after you’ve turned away.

Geto is no different. Despite the sultry look he sends Gojo in a good-natured tease, Geto too feels the lingering arousal in his gut. When you turn to face the rest of the cadets with the faintest smirk on your lips, Suguru swears he can feel his pants tighten in the slightest.

“Next two cadets, step forward.” You gesture to the training mats, tossing the wooden staff in your hands towards the oncoming soldier. When he catches it, you nod firmly and turn to pick up the clipboard you had dropped.

Standing up and regaining your formal stance, you peek a glance at your two onlookers. Gojo and Geto are leaning against each other in the back of the room, mumbling something between themselves. There’s a smirk pulled onto Geto’s lips, something you’ve grown used to seeing. It doesn’t spark the same rage it used to, now only bringing you confusion. You’re unsure of your quickly changing feelings for the two pilots, and you don’t necessarily have time to decipher them for now.

When Geto looks up, he meets your eyes. His smirk changes to something a little more gentle, and he nods his head softly in question. Though this silent language is something you often see passing between him and Gojo, you seem to be able to decipher it quickly. You okay? The nod seems to ask.

You return his gesture with one of your own, watching as the two exchange another look before turning to make their way out of the training room. You don’t know why the ache in your chest sings when they leave.

As the door falls shut behind him, Geto is already moving to hang off his lover. Resting his weight onto Satoru’s back, Suguru throws an arm over his partner. Laughing under his breath, Suguru pokes his finger into Satoru’s ribs.

“You thought that was hot, didn’t you?” Suguru’s voice is teasing, another sultry smirk pulled onto his lips as he addresses Satoru. He’s not angry. God - Suguru could never be disgruntled when it’s apparent that he feels the same way. The ache in his gut is the same for Suguru as it is for Satoru. They’re aligned in more ways than one - always have been.

“I did not!” Satoru groans as he shoves his lover off. Though his voice is whiny, Satoru’s reply is lighthearted. His tone is bright and there's a faint pinkish tint to his ears, a clear sign he’s growing embarrassed. This side of Satoru is one even Suguru doesn’t often see. Though he tries to pull it out of him, more often than not, Satoru is typically very composed. While his childish demeanor may appear otherwise, deep underneath, Gojo Satoru is usually in control.

Though Suguru loves to be the one to grace the tips of Satoru’s ears in that faint pink, he decides he loves it all the same when it’s you that brings the blush to his lover’s features.

“You did!” Suguru teases, moving back to lean against Satoru again. Behind closed doors, the two are incredibly touch starved, usually leaning onto each other or just linking fingers whenever possible. “S’alright, ‘Toru - I’d let her ruin me too.”

Satoru’s gaze shifts back to his partner, letting his weight fall onto Suguru’s as he sighs.

“And what if I want to be the one to ruin her?” His voice is sultry, the tip of his head tilting to look down at Suguru in a dangerously suggestive manner. His lover returns the salacious gaze, licking his lips as he leans closer to Satoru.

“Then I guess we’ll have to take turns.”

A few hours later, after your class has long finished, you find yourself climbing the high rising platforms that scale Limitless. The Jaeger is undergoing routine maintenance, something that occurs after every fight in order to ensure its systems all run perfectly. Since it’s positioned in the center of the other hangers, you have taken to climbing the supports for other mechanics after hours.

Letting your feet dangle over the edge of the metal platform, you sit and face Limitless in all its glory. It’s technically the first Mark-4 Jaeger you’ve ever seen. The Scarlet Dragon had been the last of her kind, a nuclear powered Mark-3 Jaeger of uncanny ability. Geto and Gojo’s Jaeger was created a little while later, allowing the technology to boost their new machinery into Mark-4 capabilities.

You admire the engine as it softly whirs, letting Main Control run tests late into the night. Inhaling deeply, you savor in the scent of salt air from the ocean coupled with the metallic smell from the Jaegers. The calming scent does wonders for your addled brain.

After the incident during training, you found yourself stewing in some existential guilt. It took a long time to work yourself out of the guilty episode that haunted over your head, but the night air seemed to help. Now, you sit and watch the mechanics tinker, allowing the repetitive motions of their work drown out the turmoil in your head. Rubbing your fingers together, you begin picking at your cuticles once more: a habit you could never break.

Over your shoulder, the sound of metal clanging reaches your ears as someone climbs up the high-rise platform behind you. You don’t speak, simply allowing them to join you, despite your mind being elsewhere. Too lost in memories, focusing on the events of the past and trying to determine if you really were a coward, you don’t hear Geto and Gojo climb onto the metallic terrace.

You’re broken from your trance when there are two forms settled on either side of you. They’re quiet for a moment, letting the clicking of tools and the humming of Limitless’ engine fill the space instead. It’s nice, you decide; sitting beside the two pilots is comforting in a way you can’t understand.

“You alright, Pretty?” It’s Geto’s voice. The deep timber is unmistakable as it sends faint shivers down your spine. He’s looking at you, his eyes scanning your face and attempting to gauge your feelings. In your turmoil, you miss the nickname, one that would have sent your heart into stuttered beats and your stomach in knots, if you were paying attention.

On your other side, Gojo is staring out at his Jaeger. He appears to be mulling something over in his head, though you can never be quite sure with the blindfold covering his eyes.

You nod, a little numbly. It’s difficult to explain. You’re not quite sure what you’re feeling, but there’s too much of it. You don’t know how to explain that to either man, simply letting out a little hum. There's a tightness in your chest that you can’t describe and your stomach feels heavy. Geto seems to understand, shifting a little closer.

After another beat of silence, it’s Gojo who speaks.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” he starts, still mulling over his words as he speaks. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

You know he’s referencing your first meeting weeks ago. Nodding, you finally turn to look at him. Gojo’s upper body shifts to face you, and despite his eyes obscured by the blindfold, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Gojo look so sincere. His lips are softened into a gentle smile and his shoulders are relaxed, a position you’ve only seen him express under the presence of his lover. When you don’t respond, Gojo continues speaking.

“I get a little heated with all the reporters hanging around, and I pushed you too far. I’m sorry.” His words are precise and to the point, something you greatly appreciate in communication. Though you often have a little trouble expressing your own feelings, Gojo seems fairly adept at ensuring that you understand his own. You appreciate his concern, finally breaking free of your haze for another moment and gracing him with a gentle smile.

Gojo returns your soft smile, a tumble of butterflies in his stomach erupting into a flutter when he takes in your sweet look. From behind him, Geto’s shoulders soften as he leans forward. His eyes curl into a loving grin, his own chest singing with quickened pulses as he watches his lover interact with you. It’s one of the first conversations the three of you have had without some sort of lingering anger. Geto savors in the peaceful aura that settles over the three of you.

It appears you have judged Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru too quickly.

While they can both be complete menaces, they also have a deeper, calmer demeanor that shines so brightly when they’re alone. Both Geto and Gojo went out of their way to ensure that you were alright after training today, even mentioning the incident to the Marshall. After ensuring your well-being, the Marshall had the cadet shifted to another training schedule, a much more rigorous training meant for lower cadets. The notion made you stifle a smile when the Marshall had forwarded the news.

Gojo, while sometimes silly and overdramatic, was nothing short of incredibly caring. You’d heard from Nanami that he’d been sneaking in treats for Megumi and Itadori whenever he could, a sentiment that warmed your heart. Geto too, got along well with the kids. You’ve often seen Itadori rush towards him whenever he was out with Nanami. Geto’s strong arms hoisted up the toddler, lifting him onto his broad shoulders as he conversed with Nanami and Haibara. You lingered in the doorway, unsure if any of them had seen you. Savoring the pleasant environment, you watched Gojo crouch to greet Megumi, who Nanami had picked up alongside his own son. Megumi, ever the ‘emotionless’ child, pushed past Gojo’s wiggling fingers as he asked for a hug.

You giggled under your breath as Gojo whined about wanting a hug, but you later watched Megumi climb into Gojo’s lap when they were eating.

“I think -” you hesitate, as if still trying to decide what to say. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

Geto chuckles, turning his head back to Limitless as the three of you smile. “Yeah, I think so too.”

Gojo nods along, his own lips stretched into a gentle grin.

“Do you think -” you try, attempting to word the question you’re trying to ask. The words fall flat on your tongue as you try to speak them, but Gojo picks up where you left off.

“Would you be alright with starting over?”

With a happy sigh, you nod your head fervently. Eyes wide, but happy, you look back at Gojo with a determined grin. Geto laughs again, agreeing with a warm look in his eyes.

After a beat of silence, the three of you burst into giggles, feeling a little silly for a moment. Your body relaxes, letting the anxiety melt off your shoulders as you sink in the comforting presence of Geto and Gojo. The storming sea that tormented your mind begins to melt away, sunshine peeking out from the clouds as you finally grasp onto an anchor to hold your ship steady.

When you finally quiet into another beat of silence, there’s a warm hum under your skin. It makes your skin hot, but it’s a pleasant heat so you don’t mind. It melts away the icy cold that once had a tight grip on your chest.

In front of you, Limitless’ chest plate is being removed, the core exposed as the three of you marvel over the engineering that maintains the Jaeger. It’s magnificent, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. You can remember why you wanted to become a pilot in the first place as the awe of the Jaeger’s core never ceases to amaze you.

With a warm sigh, Gojo mumbles under his breath, “Beautiful, isn’t she?”

You nod, not taking your eyes off Limitless.

Next to you, you’re completely unaware of Gojo’s eyes on your face rather than his Jaeger. His question honestly hadn’t even been addressing you, but rather Geto. On your other side, Geto’s eyes glaze over with a warm, loving look as his sight focuses on you and his lover.

Neither man is looking at Limitless.

Instead they’re transfixed on your form as you revel in the beauty of the Jaegers.

As Geto hums in response to his lover’s question, both men know that Gojo was not referring to the Jaeger, but rather you: the shine of your eyes glistening in the glow Limitless’ core and your soft lips pulled into a sweet smile.

You get a month of your newfound, growing relationship with Geto and Gojo when everything goes to shit.

Awoken by the shrilling alarm, you quickly slide off your bed and shuffle towards Megumi’s. Since you’d established a more permanent residence on base, the orphanage had allowed him to sleep in your bunker most nights, something you cherished deeply.

Hushing him gently as he rouses from his sleep in a panic, you hoist his drowsy form into your arms. You sway on your feet, brushing your fingers through Megumi’s hair as he whines, sleepily. Rubbing the fog out of your eyes, you pull the handle by your door that silences the alarm.

“M’sorry, Bub,” you whisper. Pressing a soft kiss to Megumi’s forehead, you continue to sway gently to send him back to sleep. He’s far too grown for this sort of treatment now, but you can’t help but baby him sometimes. You don’t get many chances, so you savor in the feeling when he allows it.

“Go back to sleep, ‘Gumi. S’just a warning alarm for pilots.”

He hums against your neck, grasping your shirt in his fists as he quickly falls back into a slumber. You’re jealous of his ability to knock out so quickly, humming as you settle him back into his bed.

When Megumi is settled, you glance back at the red screen in the middle of the room. Scanning the contents of the alarm, your stomach seizes tight. You bring a hand to cover your mouth as you gnaw on the tip of your finger.

A Category Four Kaiju is headed towards the coastline, only about twenty miles from the Shatterdome. It hasn’t reached the land yet, but left unchecked, it will soon. It’s the first Category Four Kaiju in years, the last being - well, you can’t finish your thought.

You nibble on the tip of your finger as you scan the list of pilot names that is being dispatched. A sinking feeling begins to form as you read both Limitless and Black Flash as two of the appointed Jaegers. Your breath catches in your throat and your other hand comes up to fiddle with the front of your shirt. Shifting back and forth on your feet, your mind races as you debate your next move.

If you head to Main Control, you’re unsure if they’ll allow you to stay. While you may be a Captain, the Marshall is very particular about those who are allowed inside the Command Deck during operation. You’re not sure you’ll be any help either. With the anxious pit in your stomach growing, you'll likely be unable to provide much aid to the battle strategists nor systems control. Both Limitless and Black Flash are likely already prepped for dispatch at this point. The pilots will be in their drive-suits, hair-thin needles sliding into their spine as they connect to the framework of their Jaegers. Drift commenced, both teams are probably headed out of the Shatterdome.

You continue shifting, trying to resist pacing along the concrete floors of your bunker so that you don’t wake Megumi. With a sigh and a glance back at your son, lip still gnawing at the skin of your fingers. You have another training session in three hours. There won’t be much you can do until then, though you know the anxiety in your stomach will keep you awake. There's no use trying to fall back asleep now.

Climbing into Megumi’s bed, you slide your body behind the little boy. He mumbles something in his sleep and turns over, sensing your shift. With his dark eyes barely blinking open and his lips tucked into a sweet, sleepy pout, Megumi crawls forward into your lap. You lean back against the wall behind you, legs laid out in front of you so that Megumi can settle between them.

Knocking your head back, you gently hit the concrete wall with your skull. Letting the cool material distract you, you brush your fingers through Megumi’s hair. When Megumi lets out a little huff, a sign he’s comfortable, you smile gently despite the tight grip of worry in your chest.

Closing your eyes, all you can do is wait for the pilots to return. You refuse to scan through tabloids, not wanting the constant updates to twist your stomach in nausea. You allow a sense of anxious calm to settle over the room, sitting and waiting for the hours to dwindle away on their own.

When three hours finally pass, the silent ticking echoing through the room and splitting the quiet atmosphere, you slide out of Megumi’s bed and hoist him up into your arms once more. Meandering through your morning tasks, you get both you and Megumi ready for the day. You shuffle into your uniform and zip the suit up to your neck, adjusting the fit as you do so.

After ensuring Megumi was alright, you swing by the orphanage. Crouching down beside your son, you allow yourself a little giggle when an energetic ball of pink fluff comes barreling your way.

“Fushiguro! Red-san!”

Megumi, knowing his best friend’s routine, steps aside just as Itadori Yuuji reaches the two of you. Yuuji crashes into your chest, a movement you had expected. With your arms open wide, you smile as the pink-haired boy grasps hold of you. Despite seeing him just yesterday, it warms your heart that Yuuji still exudes the same excitement each and every time he sees you and Megumi.

“Hello, Yuuji-kun!” You mumble warmly as he squeezes you tight. Bent at the knee and crouched low, Yuuji is able to wrap his arms around your upper body to hug you tight. You squeeze back just as firm, allowing the little boy to pull away when he’s ready.

When he does, there’s a vibrant smile on his cheeks, one that radiates happiness throughout the room. You wonder how anyone could resist his sweet smile, knowing even Megumi fell for his kind demeanor and ecstatic grin.

“I have to go to work this morning, Yuuji,” you remind the boy. He frowns a little, a signature pout pulling his lower lip into his mouth. You have to look away to resist giving into his sad smile. “I’ll be back before you know it! Can you keep Megumi company while I’m gone?”

Nodding fervently, Yuuji moves away to stand by his friend. It’s quite funny, you muse. Megumi’s blank-faced expression looks a little silly next to his energetic friend. However, you know Megumi is very happy to spend the day with his friend. He may not look like he does, but Megumi treasures his close friends well.

You give the boys another gentle smile before standing back up. Looking back at Megumi you ruffle both boy’s hair and chuckle at the whine it raises from both. Your son softly smacks your hand away, and your chest shakes with your laughter.

“Alright, boys. You know how to contact me if you need anything, right?” Both boys nod diligently, hair shaking as they wiggle.

With a final wave and a greeting to the nearby staffing nurse, you head back out into the winding halls of the Shatterdome. Despite the swarms of soldiers wandering through the hangers, there’s a tightness in your chest that makes you feel so lonely. Without an update from the Marshall, you are left to stew in your worried anxiety, clutching onto the hope that both Jaegers and their pilots will return safely to base.

Entering your usual training area, you force a stoic look onto your features and set your shoulders back to appear composed. The group of familiar cadets are already waiting inside, ready for another lesson. You forgo combat training today, knowing you’ll be too absent minded to pay close attention to each cadet’s compatibility. Instead, you turn their attention to group exercises. You separate them into smaller groups and point them towards one of the obstacle courses in the indoor training gym. It’s a physical course, but it takes teamwork to complete. Each obstacle can only be surpassed if all four group members work together. You hope the exercise will tune their relationships so that they one day may battle seamlessly together.

A few hours into your training exercise, your hands tighten in their stiff position behind your back as a Lieutenant steps into the truing grounds. The cadets look up from their places, shifting to turn their attention to both you and the newcomer.

You hold up your hand in a silent command, and the soldiers turn away, proceeding with their exercise while you step away.

Stomach in knots, you feel your heart begin to beat wildly in your chest. You know the Lieutenant is here to inform you of both Limitless and Black Flash’s status. With a stuttering pulse and tense limbs, you follow after them as they step away from your group of students. You’re grateful for the space, not wanting the cadets to see your unease.

When they come to a stop, they pivot on their feet to address you, “Captain.”

You nod, settling into the appropriate stance with your arms still stiff behind you. In this position, you’re able to resist the urge to pull at your cuticles. It’s difficult to stop yourself from shifting on your feet, but you manage as you press your lips together tightly. You suck in a breath, nodding as the turmoil continues to contort inside you.

“Lieutenant,” you reply stiffly. Your tone is clipped, but thankfully they don’t seem to take offense to your firm tone. It’s apparent that you’re worried for the outcome of your friends. Despite your hopes to appear professional, you must reveal an inkling of anxiety in your tense stance and apprehensive eyes.

“The Black Flash and Limitless have returned to the Shatterdome.”

Inhaling sharply, you nod and allow them to continue. Eyes hard, you keep your stance stiff despite the ache in your chest and the longing to sag under the anxiety.

“Pilots Nanami and Haibara have sustained minor injuries, but are otherwise unharmed.” The update has your shoulders sagging in relief, but the lack of knowledge of Limitless keeps your stomach turning.

“And the others?” You prompt, eyes scanning the Lieutenant for signs of grief.

“The Jaeger Limitless endured heavy damage against the Category Four Kaiju. The hull was breached during battle and the mechanics failed upon their return. Limitless will be decommissioned upon the Marshall’s command – the destruction is beyond repair.”

You suck in a heavy breath and nearly step away from the form in front of you. The sinking feeling returns, and a lump swells in your throat. Chest tightening, you swear you can hear your pulse in your ears. A hull rupture. You’re too familiar with the words. Memories flick past your eyes, and they’re difficult to shake away. Flashes of concern race through your head, and you can barely manage your next question.

“The pilots?” You muster, voice a little shaky. “Are they -”

The Lieutenant makes eye contact for the first time since their arrival. “Pilots Gojo and Geto are recovering in the emergency Medbay. Gojo Satoru experienced severe injury to his arm during battle and was transported alongside Geto Suguru as soon as they finished docking.”

Recovering. That’s good. Recovering means they’re not dead. That’s all you can think as you thank the Lieutenant for the update. You dismiss them with a nod.

As soon as they disappear around the corner, you let your shoulders sag. Collapsing inward, you heave a shuddering breath and suppress a sob of relief. Heavy injuries, the words bounce around in your head. Heavy injuries are alright, as long as they’re both still breathing. You can handle the recovery. It’s difficult to even think of any other scenario. You’re not sure you can handle losing another one of your friends.

Hunching over, you rest your hands on your knees and muffle a sob. Squeezing your eyes shut, you allow your chest to shake through another panicked breath. There’s both relief and worry still rolling in your chest, but you try to remain optimistic.

Pausing for a moment, you take a deep breath before righting yourself. Swaying on your feet, you push back the lump in your throat and the tears that ache behind your eyelids. Stepping back into the training area, you beckon your group of cadets back to your side.

With a short explanation, you dismiss the cadets early, knowing you’ll have to let the Marshall know later. The ache in your chest that longs to rush to Gojo and Geto’s side is too strong, and you know you won’t be able to focus on the training session any longer.

Waving your hand, you watch the cadets exit the space before you push off your heels. Trying your hardest not to race, you take quick strides towards the Medbay. You can’t explain why your heart pulses against your chest so rapidly, nor can you decipher the discord of emotions that ache in your mind for both Geto and Gojo. All you can do is continue navigating the winding hallways of the Shatterdome, bringing your steps closer to the two pilots that have been ingrained in your mind lately.

It’s only moments later when you push open the Medbay doors with a resounding thud. Eyes shift to your form, but you ignore their curious gazes in favor of locating a nurse. Striding towards an unoccupied shift nurse, you question Geto and Gojo’s location. They meekly give you the room number, before you turn quickly on your heel towards the correct direction.

Scanning room numbers with a racing mind, you finally locate the one you’re looking for. With a lump steadily pushing into your throat, you force open the door gently despite your rattled mind.

Suguru is the first you lay eyes on.

He’s got bandages wrapped around his shoulder and gauze pressed against his cheek. Hair ruffled and falling from its bun, there are wrinkled lines of worry on his forehead, but he seems otherwise unharmed. You let out a heavy sigh of relief, one that turns Suguru’s attention away from his lover and towards the door.

When he meets your gaze, he lets out a shaky breath. You let your chest sag in relief once more and follow his command as he waves you forward.

Stepping towards him, you let your heart jump into your throat as you finally let a tear squeeze past your eyes. It sinks onto your cheek, and Suguru aches to brush it away with his fingers. He wants to feel the softness of your skin under his fingertips and force away all the melancholy that has your face twisted into such sadness.

Though, he knows he doesn’t look much better.

With his arm bandaged from the nasty scrape, Suguru got lucky. The fight could have ended much worse if not for Satoru’s quick thinking. He lets out a heavy sigh that sounds too much like a sob. Motioning with a wave of his hand, you approach Suguru with a sad smile.

“Suguru,” you nearly whimper. It’s a watery sound, barely able to be forced out of your throat with the lump that sits in the way. The dark-haired pilot’s eyes soften into a look of loving agony that you can’t quite place. The sound of your voice strikes a chord in his chest and he hates the way it makes his heart throb. Allowing himself a moment of weakness, Suguru’s hand reaches out when you’re close enough to his side.

Looking weaker than you’ve ever seen him, Geto’s hand extends towards you. Heart stuttering, you grasp ahold of his outstretched fingers and allow him to pull you into his side. Suguru, uncharacteristically small under your gaze, wraps his arms around your waist. Pulling you into him, he rests his head directly onto your chest, hiding the teary eyes he’s barely managing to suppress. He hums a broken sound, muffling it into the thick material of your uniform.

Your heart aches at the sound, bringing your hands up to rest them on his shoulders. Geto clutches you tight, hands gripping your hips as he inhales another shuddering breath.

Over his shoulder, you finally get a glance at Satoru.

He’s laying in an infirmary bed, eyes shut but without his blindfold. Looking beaten, there's gauze wrapped around his forehead, likely from a head injury, and his arms are wrapped in similar material. It’s his left arm you're worried about – the one that had been sliced open when the hull ruptured. A deep slice ran along the length of his arm, sanguine smudges evidence of the blood that continued to leak through the bandages. You wince in memory of a similar scar that now runs along the length of your own left arm.

“How is he?” You whisper, voice just loud enough for Geto to hear. Your chest is a bit lighter now, the anxious turmoil being soothed by Suguru’s fingers as they rub gentle circles into your hips. The motion makes your heart stutter and your stomach flips, but it’s a much more pleasant feeling that the bubble of worry.

Still pressed into your chest, Suguru mumbles his response into your form.

“Alright, I think. He took a hit meant for the Black Flash,” Geto mutters. His chest vibrates with his words, the feeling radiating into your own skin and sending shivers down your spine.

“What?” You mutter under your breath, a little confused. You pull Geto’s face out of your chest gently. Placing one of your hands against his cheek, face heating a little at the intimate gesture, you question him. “What do you mean?”

“The Kaiju was smarter than we anticipated,” he grunts, face pulled into a frown. You nearly brush your finger across his soft lips, but resist the urge when Geto continues speaking. “It separated us from Kento and Yu. When it was in Black Flash’s blind spot, it lunged to take them out, but ‘Toru had already forced Limitless in between. The Kaiju’s teeth damaged the hull, and Satoru was too close to the shrapnel that was expelled.”

You suck in another breath, eyes looking back at Satoru in his bed. Still asleep, he looks more peaceful now that you can see his eyes. Though he’s injured, you’ve never seen the tension leave his form as it has now. Letting out a little huff of relief, you mentally thank him. Satoru saved the Black Flash today. Without him and Suguru, you may not have seen Nanami and Haibara again.

With a tight chest and pursed lips, you shift your eyes back to Geto. He’s looking at you now, eyes still soft and a little watery. It’s hard to tell, but you’ve gotten used to both Geto and Gojo’s emotional intricacies in the past few weeks. You know he aches for his lover. He probably feels a little guilty too, something you know you’ve taken your fair share of as a pilot.

Brushing your fingers over his cheek, Suguru feels another pleasant hum radiate through his chest. He loves the feeling of your skin against his, longing to press his body further into your own. Looking back at his wounded partner, Suguru sags against your chest again with a heavy sigh.

“S’alright, Suguru,” you whisper once more. “You’re both safe now.”

You’ve never felt closer to either pilot than you do now. Whatever strings connected you before, are now pulled taut; no more loose loops and tangled knots. You can almost feel the bond between the three of you sing stronger with each passing moment. The notion fills you with another bout of warmth.

Letting yourself be a little selfish, you lift the hand that was pressed against Suguru’s shoulder. Hesitantly, you drop it onto his scalp with a shaky movement. Unsure of proceeding, you go still with a racing heart. Suguru, who’s heart now matches yours in pace, softly nudges his head further into your stomach. With his permission, you let your fingers delicately scratch against his scalp. His soft, silken hair brushes against your skin, and he lets out a quiet, audible groan when you scratch once more.

The sound has your ears heating and brain stuttering, but you continue your motions regardless. Suguru appears to melt, his body going lax against you as he tilts his head further into your fingers. With a soft smile, you let your heart hum happily despite the emotional turmoil.

You’re interrupted by the sound of the door opening once more.

Turning towards the entrance, your eyes meet the little form of Megumi, who shifts back and forth on his feet with wary eyes. He’s fiddling with his hands and looking a little perturbed. Leaning away from Suguru, who nearly audibly whines when your fingers leave his skin, you shuffle towards the door and drop to your knees.

“Hey, Bub,” you mumble, hands coming up to grasp his smaller fingers in your own. “S’going on?”

Megumi’s lips press together as he peers around you to look once at Geto and then at Gojo’s sleeping form. He wrings his fingers together again, feeling nervous. You notice his eyes linger on Gojo’s injured form, his body nearly rocking back and forth as he fidgets. You manage a little smile and lift off your knees, offering your hand to your son.

“S’okay, ‘Gumi. Gojo’s alright now.” Your words seem to ease the boy for now, but he still flicks his gaze back and forth between you and the white-haired pilot. “You wanna see him?”

Megumi manages a little nod, grasping onto your fingers as you lead him towards Gojo’s bedside. Geto’s eyes follow you, a gentle look in his gander. He loves to watch you and Megumi interact, feeling a little bubble of warmth in his stomach when you ensure the boy is comfortable with every new interaction. Shifting in his seat, Geto offers a little wave at Megumi, who sends a small smile back.

Crouching again, you pick Megumi up into your arms. Fidgeting as you place him onto your hip, Geto stands to shuffle over to your side. You flick your attention to him for a moment, ensuring that he's not in any pain as he moves. Suguru waves off your concern, coming to stand behind you and Megumi.

The three of you stand at Gojo’s bedside, your fingers rubbing comforting circles into Megumi’s back as he scans Satoru’s injured form. With perfect timing, Gojo is just beginning to wake. His pupils shift behind his eyelids and he muffles a little groan. From behind you, Geto lays his big hand across Gojo’s forearm.

When Satoru’s crystalline blue eyes open, he's met with three figures standing over his bedside. True to Gojo’s nature, he musters a little smirk that raises the corners of his lips. You nearly scoff lightheartedly when he murmurs under his breath.

“Aw, were ya’ worried about me?”

Geto chuckles when Megumi turns away from Gojo, pressing his face into your chest. You let out a little giggle as well, shielding your son from Gojo in his faint embarrassment. Even with his injuries, Satoru still manages to muster his energetic demeanor, hiding a wince when he sits up on his bed.

You send Gojo a look, eyes soft and expressing your thanks silently. He meets your gaze, a sweet look in his own vibrant, blue eyes. Satoru sends you a little nod, letting his fingers brush against yours when you’re close enough. The touch sends a little shiver down your spine and Megumi wiggles against you.

In the light of the infirmary, the four of you are in your own little world.

Geto watches happily as you and Megumi speak quietly to Gojo, your son’s body now sitting on the edge of Gojo’s bed. Geto savors in the secluded atmosphere, – just the four of you and no one else to interrupt. He hopes there are many more moments like these, especially some without an injured partner. With a soft sigh, Geto finally presses closer to you, and you let him. He rests his chin on your head with his chest pressed against your back. Exchanging a knowing look with his lover, the two of them sink into the happy aura and let themselves relax in the presence of you and your son.

Satoru recovers steadily, his arm healing nicely and scarring over in the days that follow. The stitches were removed a little more than a week later, the wounds having closed without any signs of infection. When you greet him that afternoon, Gojo pulls your body next to his, comparing his scarred arm against your own. You laugh when he murmurs that you now match, enjoying that Satoru can find little bits of happiness even in his own pain.

Limitless, the once hulking, Mark-4 Jaeger is decommissioned shortly after they had docked. Both pilots had been devastated, watching as their beloved machine slowly powers down for the last time. You stand at their side, rubbing Gojo’s side when he’s forced to look away with a tightened chest. Geto leans into you, forcing a deep sigh as he wonders what will happen next.

You are informed a few days later, of a new Jaeger, one that’s been remodeled and updated from its previous Mark-3 status. With a sharp, breathy inhale, you listen as the Marshall reveals the news.

The Scarlet Dragon, after its final battle, was refurbished. Brought back to life after tragedy, the Jaeger’s core had been saved, allowing mechanics to rebuild its body from the ground up. Now standing taller than before, the new Jaeger is no longer a sanguine color. The metallic, shining white illuminates a rainbow shine when the light hits the paint. It’s beautiful. Unlike any other built before it, the machine stands tall and proud under your stare.

No longer The Scarlet Dragon, the new Mark-5 machine - first of its kind - has a new name: The Rainbow Dragon.

Built with your previous Jaeger in mind, it looks just like the one from your memories. Though the paint is different and it’s taller than before, with new weapons and updated technology, you can still see the Scarlet Dragon before you.

The ache in your chest feels heavier than ever. You can almost feel your brother at your side as you stand in front of the Rainbow Dragon. After the Marshall had explained the machine he’d hidden from the public eye, you’d taken refuge in its hulking form. Mind racing, you consider the Marshall’s terse words.

“First of her kind,” he mutters under his breath. “As the first Mark-5 Jaeger in history, the mechanics had to work around the necessity of a stronger, enchanted Drift mechanism.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means: the Rainbow Dragon needs three pilots.”

The Marshall hadn’t continued, but you understand the subtext regardless.

The new machine was capable of immense strength and agility, one that surpassed any Jaeger before it. However, in order to operate the new apparatus, it needed a third pilot to handle the heavier neurological load. You hadn’t asked who he was going to choose for the job, but you already knew who his choices were.

Geto Suguru and Gojo Satoru were two of the best pilots the Jaeger Program had ever seen. Their abilities would be wasted anywhere else. Both men were incredible pilots, capable of thinking on their feet and coming out victorious despite heavy losses.

The third pilot had to be someone that knew them well. Someone that understood their emotions and their bond – a soldier who had experience operating a Jaeger and knew how to handle the Drift. It had to be someone who was close to both Geto and Gojo, being able to understand them even without the aid of the neurological connection.

The Marshall didn’t need to say a name, because you already knew you were the only pilot he considered.

Quickly after dismissing you, you shuffled into the new hanger. Climbing the rafters, you pulled your heaving body onto the high platforms in front of The Rainbow Dragon and finally collapsed.

Feeling weaker than ever, you mulled over the information, letting your brain spiral into darker territory as you relived your final moments in The Scarlet Dragon. The memories are painful. Seeing your brother ripped from his seat and your voice rubbing raw as you screamed for him, you felt tears drip from your lower lids. Lifting a hand to scrub them away, you huffed a small sob.

The task seems too daunting. You’re not sure you’ll ever be ready to climb inside another Jaeger, your memories too strong and the wound still fresh. Your chest is heavy, a weight sitting on your ribs as you recall your loving brother.

“Hey, Kiddo,” his voice rings in your memory. “Look at me, Kid. Everything’s gonna be fine, okay? M’always gonna be right here – you can always find me in the Drift.”

The words have never left you, radiating through your being as his deep voice murmurs in your mind. You know he’d have wanted better for you. He always pushed you to greater heights, claiming you deserved more than what you were given. The weight in your chest seems to only get heavier when you think of him. You know he wouldn’t want you to stop fighting because of him. He’d probably drag your ass back into a Jaeger himself, if he could. He’d be murmuring under his breath the whole time, grunting good-natured jabs as he pushes you into the pilot’s seat.

Startled out of your thoughts as someone climbs the rafters behind you, you scrub your tears away as their form enters the metal overhang. You’re surprised to see both Nanami and Haibara, your son’s body between their feet.

“Hey, Kid.” Nanami’s voice breaks the silence. His lips are pressed together, eyes soft as he takes in your watery eyes and sad smile.

Megumi crawls forward quickly, his little hands coming up to your face to gently wipe away your falling tears. You melt at his comforting gesture, wrapping your arms around his body to pull him into your lap. He settles into you swiftly, wiggling his form to situate himself.

Nanami and Haibara settle at your sides, the four of you sitting in a quiet silence for a few moments before you break it.

“I assume you heard the news?”

Both men nod, their heads shaking as they shift to look at you. Megumi leans back into your chest, looking out at the Rainbow Dragon in wonder. Dark eyes wide, your son gasps at the magnificence of the Jaeger before you.

“Okaasan, do you miss your brother?” His little voice questions. He’s taken to fiddling with your fingers, rubbing his own short ones against the tips of yours as he speaks.

Megumi was young when your brother died, so you don’t expect him to remember much of him. He knows you were close with him, especially with all the stories you tell the younger boy. Though he may not recall your brother clearly, Megumi can still see faint flashes of both you and you brother, alongside two blurry figures that he assumes are his parents. He doesn’t remember either of them, they had died long before he could ever recall their faces. Since he was young, you were his only parental figure – something he’s more than fine with now.

You nod softly, looking down at Megumi as Haibara rubs a hand across your back. Leaning into your friend’s hand, you whisper back to Megumi, “Very much.”

Voice watery, Megumi leans his head back against your chest to look up at you. Hair ruffled and dark eyes shining, the boy’s lips turn upwards in a small smile.

“He must have been a very good person,” the boy mumbles as he twists your fingers. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be so sad, right?”

Nodding again, you look back up at the Jaeger before you and mull over Megumi’s words. Nanami and Haibara are still silent at your sides, but you savor their quiet comfort regardless. Your two oldest friends already seem to know when their muted solace is appreciated, letting your son be the one to speak.

“Would he be mad if you wanted to fight again?” His words startle you, your eyes shooting back down to look into his curious ones. The tiny orbs are inquisitive, full of questioning wonder that you’ve seen before.

After a moment’s hesitation, you consider your son’s words. You don't think your brother would be mad if you were to return to a Jaeger. In fact, you think he’d be ecstatic if you continued to fight even after his unfortunate death. It’s not necessarily his memory that holds you back, but your own fear.

You’ve long dreaded the connection that’s made between pilots, too anxious that the strain of the Drift with another copilot would bring you too much pain. You were still connected to your brother when he was killed. Every moment of his dying agony was your own. You didn’t think you were ready to experience that kind of anguish once more.

“I don’t think so,” you reply softly. Squeezing Megumi tight in your arms, you press your forehead into his hair.

“Are you scared then?”

Without lifting your head, you nod against Megumi’s hair. His words aren’t angry, nor are they accusatory. He simply wants to understand why you never return to piloting, always a little uncertain about your reasons.

Megumi nods his head in understanding. He continues looking out at the Rainbow Dragon, letting his fingers stroke comforting circles into your hands. Your son is remarkably intelligent. For someone his age, Megumi is keen and able to understand complex emotions even without experiencing them himself. He’s caring too, making sure to silently comfort you with little strokes of his hands as he speaks.

You’re so incredibly proud of him. Despite all the tragedy in his life, your son is immensely wise and so exceptionally kind. You feel your heart squeeze with a warmth as your softened eyes leak a few tears into his hair.

“Yeah, ‘Gumi,” you whisper, only for him to hear. “M’scared.”

“That’s okay, Okaasan!” He replies cheerfully, his voice light and energetic despite the gloomy atmosphere. “I can be strong for you!”

Your eyes crinkle as they turn into a sweet smile. Heart singing, a surge of warmth fills you as Megumi speaks. You couldn’t be more happy to have Megumi as your son.

“I’ll be right here the whole time,” Megumi croons. “And then when it’s all over, we can finally go home.”

Letting your body collapse into Megumi, you weep a little sob. Home, you think. That sounds nice. The idea of a little beach side house, Megumi’s little body running around in the sand and the salty smell of the ocean in the air. Your heart aches as you imagine it. After everything is finally over, you finally want to buy the house you’ve had your eye on. You want to adopt Megumi and take him home as your son, officially.

You’re surprised when the images of Geto and Gojo sneak into the fantasy. Their forms dance in the sand, Gojo flicking water at Megumi as he squeals. Heart full, you hum pleasantly. Nanami and Haibara join the sight soon, Yuuji’s pink hair peeking out from behind Megumi. Your little family.

Nodding fervently, you press a kiss to Megumi’s hair with a determined sigh. Nanami and Haibara watch as you set your shoulders back, their own chests fluttering with happiness as the youthful determination finally fills your body once more.

“Okay, ‘Gumi,” you whisper. “One more fight, then we finally go home.”

Three days later, and there’s no time to test your drift compatibility with Geto and Gojo.

The Marshall, after speaking with the lead research specialist, wants to make a final attempt to close the Breach. With new information regarding the opening between worlds, he’s certain that this final shot will work.

You’re nervous – more than you’ve ever been in your life. It’s been a long time since you’ve put on a drive-suit, twinging a little when the thin needles insert into your spine. You’re a little stiff, but it feels good to be back in the suit. It feels natural once again, the material shifting as you walk. Heading into the cockpit of the Rainbow Dragon, your stomach quells in anxiety.

You’d said goodbye to Megumi a few moments ago. The Marshall promised to look after him while you were gone, your trembling hands thanking him. You pressed a kiss to Megumi’s hair, promising to be back soon. There was no need to say farewells, you were confident. You would not be leaving Megumi behind again. He would not have to let go of another parental figure.

He sent you a warm smile, pressing his own little kiss to your cheek. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so affectionate, but you blame it on him sensing your nerves.

Inside the Rainbow Dragon, Gojo and Geto are already preparing the Jaeger for dispatch. There’s muffled conversation between them, a sense of lingering unease in the cockpit. The Marshall had not informed them of their third pilot. Neither Gojo nor Geto were sure of the choice for the empty pilot’s seat in the cockpit.

Though, both pilots already knew who their choice would have been.

There was only one other person in the Shatterdome who knew their minds inside and out. Though they’d only been ‘friends’ for a few months, both Geto and Gojo knew you were fine tuned to their intricacies by now. It was evident in the way you helped Gojo pull his pilot uniform over his wounded shoulder weeks ago. As if you knew the exact movement that would bring him pain, you maneuvered the uniform over his arm, ensuring that he didn’t have to make any motion that would hurt him.

Gojo saw it in the way you helped Suguru pull his hair into a bun when his own shoulder ached after their battle. His lover’s eyes fell shut as your fingers brushed against Geto’s scalp, his smile warm and endearing as you carefully tied the elastic.

The three of you worked seamlessly together now.

From over his shoulder, Geto mumbled something as he fidgeted with the helmet in his hands. The black drive-suit fits his build well. Broad shoulders and thin waist, Gojo finds himself scanning his lover’s body with appreciation.

Looking up, Geto rolls his eyes when he meets Gojo’s sultry gaze. Wiggling his eyebrow childishly, Satoru laughs when Geto shoves him away. It’s amazing they both can play around like this before a mission. Though the atmosphere is taut, nerves on end and soldiers tense around them, Geto and Gojo still manage to keep a lighthearted facade.

As the two continue pre-ignition procedures, footsteps entering the cockpit cause both their heads to raise from their hunched positions. The steps stop just before the far right pilot’s seat, a beat of silence echoing through the room before you break it.

“I hope you don’t mind if I take the right,” you grin. “My left arm was shot to shit.”

Geto’s head whips in your direction so quickly, you have to muffle a giggle. His black hair falls in front of his face in his shock, the strands of his bangs blocking his eyes for a moment before he shakes them away. When his gaze meets yours, you suck in a breath at the look in his eyes. They're softened, pupils shining with an endearing expression that makes you want to melt under his stare. Geto looks at you as if he’s been waiting for you – not just now, as a pilot, but forever. He and Gojo have been waiting for you, whether they knew it or not.

Gojo’s smile widens, a laugh falling from his lips as he lets out a little cheer. His heart squeezing, he takes in your figure. The dark drive-suit suits you well, the material standing out against the pale interior of the cockpit. It’s you, he thinks. It’s always been you. They’ve been waiting for you.

Nodding, Geto motions for you to take the right pilot’s seat. Gojo falls easily into the middle one, allowing his recovering left arm a little break. Settling into the left side, Geto feels a sense of ease spread through the room. It feels natural, your presence. It’s as though they’ve been battling with you this whole time. You fit so seamlessly between their personalities, taking everything in stride and working to better both them and yourself.

“You look good, Sunshine.” It’s Gojo who speaks, his voice cutting through the silence. He’s looking at you, crystalline blue eyes taking in every inch of your figure as he had Suguru. Both of you look enticing in your drive-suits.

“Thanks, ‘Toru,” you mumble in reply, ducking your head to hide your flustered expression. You hope neither of them notice, but it wouldn’t be in their character.

“He’s right,” Suguru continues. “You ready, Pretty?”

You manage a shaky nod, settling your body back into the pilot seat behind you. Geto and Gojo follow suit, shifting to press back into the needles that attach themselves to your spine. Hair-thin and minuscule, you’ll barely feel the spines in a few moments, but the initial injection is never comfortable.

When the three of you are finally settled into place, you begin pulling up the screen in front of you. Clicking your right arm into the brace that will allow you to control the Rainbow Dragon’s own left arm, you let the practiced motions of preparing the Jaeger drown out your nervous turmoil.

The Rainbow Dragon is a three-armed Jaeger, with a rotating middle that allows the limbs to switch positions in the middle of battle. While you choose to operate the right side, it’s likely the section could change. It’s not too drastic of an adjustment. Though some of the nerves are touchy, your left arm should be able to handle the fight just fine. It will simply be a little less reactive than your right.

“Hey,” Gojo breaks the silence. He’s turned to face you, bright blue eyes tracing your features under the helmet you had slid on. His voice is soft, something you don’t often hear. “Let’s go somewhere after this. Just us – you, me, Suguru and Megumi. Some time alone for the four of us.”

Geto hums a happy sound, obviously in agreement. His dark eyes turn back to you, letting the pupils trace your features with an endearing look. In the cockpit, there’s some sense of a peaceful calm despite the stressful situation that continues outside your little world. It sends a bolt of warmth into your chest and you return Suguru’s sweet look, your cheek beginning to ache from the wide smile that settles on your lips.

“The beach,” you decide after a moment’s hesitation. Stomach twisting, now with butterflies rather than nerves, you address them both. “Megumi’s always wanted to go to Okinawa.”

Geto shakes his head with a laugh before turning back to Satoru with a smile on his lips. “Okinawa it is then.”

Before the Drift even commences, the three of you slide into a connection of your own. Minds so finely tuned to each other, you barely even need the drift to tell you what the other is thinking. You’re already imagining the beach. The white sand brushing against your toes and Megumi’s laughter in the air as the four of you take some well needed time away. In your own world, you finish preparing the final steps to dispatch the Rainbow Dragon, turning to face Gojo, your designated lead pilot.

“All systems are a ‘Go,’ Six.”

The white haired pilot’s lips curl into a smirk at the name, sending you a teasing look as you address him by his nickname again. It’s different now. While you used to throw the name at him with a subtle hint of distaste, now the name ‘Six Eyes’ means something else. It's spoken with a manner of confidence, letting Satoru know that you are placing your complete trust in his efforts as your lead pilot.

Gojo turns to face his lover, receiving his consensual nod from Suguru before he addresses Main Control. “Rainbow Dragon is a ‘Go.’ Commence the Drift.”

At his command, a voice repeats Satoru’s command in your ear. Settling back against the pilot seat with a lingering nervousness in your gut, you make contact with Suguru. His warm smile underneath the helmet soothes some of the anxiety, trying to comfort your racing mind. It’s been a long time since you’ve drifted with another pilot, and the first with a pilot who isn’t your brother.

Taking a deep, controlled breath, you shut your eyes and allow the swelling of the Drift take over your mind. It starts with a subtle pressure, building until it presses at the forefront of your consciousness. When you succumb to its strength, you’re immediately met with flashes of memories.

At first, they're yours.

You see your brother's face as you and the Fushiguro’s laugh. The four of you are stuffed into your small bunker, clutching drinks as you giggle amongst yourselves. The swell of nostalgia presses against your chest as you feel the ache of grief pushing against your ribs. You look so happy here.

When the memory gets pulled away, you know both Geto and Gojo are watching too. The Drift links all three of you, so they see every scene as it flashes by in front of you. Instead of feeling nervous, there’s some warmth in your chest that comforts you. You’re not afraid of them seeing your past. You actually find that you’re grateful they can see these memories, you know it will bring you closer together. Being able to physically feel every emotion from the others is both a blessing and a curse in the Drift.

Another flash floats in front of you, and you’re holding Megumi for the first time.

You remember the tears that dropped down your cheeks as you held his tiny body in your hands. He was so small, little tufts of dark hair fluffy against his forehead and dark eyes already open. Megumi looks up at you for the first time in his life, and you couldn’t resist the tears that fell from your eyes. His birth mother is asleep, having passed out with Toji at her side as he passes his son into your arms. Your brother is at your side, his head peeking over your shoulder as the two of you finally meet the child of your lifelong friends.

You watch as your heart swells with love at the sight. You hadn’t known then, that Megumi would one day be your son. Though, you can’t find it within yourself to wish for anything different. He’s the perfect kid, even despite both of your flaws.

When the memory is pulled away, it’s replaced by a painful one.

You watch as Toji’s Jaeger falls apart, the machine collapsing under his insurmountable grief. Toji had lost his wife in a similar way you'd lost your brother. Pulled from the Jaeger by the hulking body of a Kaiju, Toji had crumpled under the weight of his lost love. Both himself and his Jaeger had been destroyed in the process.

You remember crying out for both your friends, chest seizing as a sob wracked through your chest. It was up to you and your brother to finish off the Kaiju, not given a moment’s hesitation for the grief that swelled in your throat.

There’s the flash of you holding Megumi’s body tight, his inquisitive eyes not quite understanding the situation, but squeezing you back regardless. He’d been so young.

Another blur passes through you, Geto and Gojo’s chest sinking under the weight of your own subtle grief. You don’t allow yourself much else, knowing you can’t immerse yourself in the memories. Following after one, ‘chasing the rabbit’ as the Marshall says, would only disrupt the Drift and cause the Jaeger to fail.

Though they ache to comfort you somehow, both men allow the next memory to pass, watching with wide eyes as they are met with the sight that had previously ended your piloting career.

Breath caught in their lungs, your voice crying out in their ears, they watch as your brother is ripped from his seat. Feeling every moment of your brother’s dying agony, they ache as you did. It’s painful, incredibly so. Gojo wishes to reach out to you, though he knows he can’t.

They only watch as your past, broken form sobs as you finally finish the Kaiju once and for all. When you collapse against the coastline, the Scarlet Dragon defeated, there’s a crushing pain in both their chests.

You resist falling into grief.

Instead, you let these agonizing moments propel you into some kind of vengeful confidence. You won’t let these people die in vain. Toji and his wife, your brother, all those pilots before you – you will not allow their sacrifice to be for naught.

With your head held high, your memories finally finish, allowing Geto’s to take their place.

Each crucial moment of Geto Suguru’s life flows past your mind. You watch with your breath caught in your throat as he meets Gojo Satoru for the first time. They’d been young, only teenagers at the time, but they look so similar. Wide smiles on their cheeks, you watch as Geto shoves Gojo away with a laugh, the two boys playfully wrestling with each other.

Another rift fades, and you watch two little girls appear before you. One blonde and the other dark haired, your eyes follow Geto as he hoists both girls onto his hips. Carrying them both with a warm smile, Suguru cares for both girls as his own. The sight makes your chest squeeze again – he’d be such a good father.

You’re ripped from the sweet moment as the spectacle changes. Now, it’s a memory of pure agony. With wide eyes and a breath stuck in his throat, Suguru finds the two girls, eyes blank and blood dripping from their skulls. It’s clear they’ve been trampled, likely from a crowd of people trying to escape a Kaiju attack. Satoru and Suguru had been away, called to pilot their Jaeger as they left the girls in the care of a neighbor. Likely abandoned by the caretaker, the twins were mercilessly slaughtered before either man could even say goodbye.

You nearly cough out a sob as Suguru’s grief overtakes you. It’s similar to your own, and you find yourself aching to comfort him as he did you.

As the sigh fades away, Satoru’s memories take their place. You’re not very surprised to find Satoru doesn’t have many happy memories that don’t include Suguru. From the pictures that flash through your consciousness, Satoru wasn’t allowed much of a childhood. His clan elders seem to rip him away the moment he had the strength to stand and walk on his own.

Though, despite the unhappy memories, there’s ones of joy slipping in between. There's genuine smiles filtering through the cracks, images of his laugh as he lays on Suguru’s lap. A wide grin is on his lips as he sits in between Suguru, Nanami and Haibara in one of their bunkers.

For a moment, you think the Drift has finally finished as the images fade away. However, you’re startled as one final sight flashes before your eyes.

You don’t know whose memory it is. It could be either Suguru’s or Satoru’s, but you know it’s not yours.

You know because it’s your body standing before your own eyes.

In that moment, with your form sitting on one of the high-rise platforms in front of Limitless, you feel every moment of Geto and Gojo’s emotions. There’s joy and kindness, and some sort of longing that sits in your stomach and has your heart doing all sorts of flips. Your breath is stuck in your throat, a lump holding it there as you watch yourself turn to look down at the person.

There must be some sort of difference in this memory because you swear you appear more beautiful than you’ve ever seen. It seems as though, in this person’s memory, they see you in such a pure way – as if they see you in a much better light than you see yourself. This person sees authentic, sheer beauty as your form turns to look at them.

They see you in a light in which you’ve never seen yourself.

You appear more beautiful than any instance you’ve ever seen before. In this memory, time seems to slow as your lips pull into a gentle smile and wave down at the person looking up. Your heart seems to catch, a pure longing taking its place as the person waves back. When your past body waves the person to join you, you swear you’ve never felt lighter.

There's so much pure joy and genuine aching for your presence, you think you might cry. You feel giggly and ecstatic, like a school girl all over again. It sets your heart alight, twisting your features into such a soft expression.

You know it’s not just Geto or Gojo’s memory now.

You can recall finding both pilots looking up at you in the rafters, their smiles and happy eyes gazing up at your body. You remember waving to them, gesturing for them to join you, with your own set of butterflies in your stomach.

It’s not one of their memories – it’s both.

Whatever joy and longing you’re feeling, is coming from both of them. They appear to be linked in such a way that they felt the exact same ache for you. Sharing both the memory and the feeling, the sight before you flickers and you fear you may cry.

Not out of sadness, but from genuine love.

You’ve never felt so honestly and authentically loved as you do now. Absolutely overwhelmed by the sheer amount of affection that swells in your chest, you fear you may sink too far into the memory. The tightness in your chest crescendos, but it’s not an unpleasant feeling.

When you’re finally pulled from it, some kind of bond just snaps into place.

Suddenly, you know exactly how the three of you feel for each other. There's no lingering questioning, no deceiving guesses that leave all of you confused. You know now. It’s always been you – just the three of you and your son now.

As you meet the gazes of Satoru and Suguru, there’s a confident smile on your cheeks. You feel their joy and their swelling devotion as you settle into your new place – between the two of them.

It's about an hour later, when you’re standing at the brink of the Breach, that the nerves finally return. It’s almost suspicious – you’ve made it this far with no problem. There’s been no sign of any Kaiju, not even a surge of energy from the Breach. It’s worrying, but for now, you take it as a good sign.

But you need a body. A Kaiju body is needed to bypass the Breach.

That’s what the research analyst had discovered. In order to pass through the rift between worlds, the Breach scans the Kaiju’s DNA like an identification tag. In order to pass through, you need a Kaiju - dead or alive.

Perhaps they know this. You've underestimated their intelligence as a species before. Maybe they know of your plans – can tell that your kind intends to collapse the rift between your world and theirs for good. It’s suspicious, but you have no other explanation.

As the Rainbow Dragon stands side by side with the Black Flash, two other Jaegers stand behind you, the darkness of the water seems to close in around you. Deep beneath the ocean’s surface, there's so little light. You can only see a few meters in front of the Rainbow Dragon, just enough to make out the edges of the Breach. It glows even despite the depths, a sentiment you’re grateful for. It casts a faint light around the edge, allowing you to keep the Black Flash within your sights.

“Any sign, Kento?” It’s Satoru’s voice that carries through the unnerving silence. Main Control had gone quiet too, all of you waiting in suspense.

“Nothing, Gojo.”

You turn to look at Suguru, a tense lipped frown on your face. He returns the look with a little nod, settling your nerves in the slightest. You have nothing to fear with them at your side. With Nanami and Haibara as your wing-men, you know the five of you are strong.

Scanning the ocean floor in front of you, left hand clenching in your drive-suit, you feel the weight of the mission settle onto your shoulders. It’s your Jaeger that carries the payload – the Rainbow Dragon is the one assigned to pass through the Breach.

“Rainbow Dragon!” The voice of Main Control filters through your earpiece. “Signatures are rising – two Category Five Kaiju are breaking through the Breach!”

The Rainbow Dragon whirs as your fists lift into a defensive position. The plasma cannon in Suguru’s right fist faintly hums as it prepares for battle, and the razor sharp sword retracted into your arm is cocked and ready to deploy. Settling your weight onto your toes, the three of you are ready for a fight.

The Black Flash shifts at your side, Nanami and Haibara preparing for their own skirmish. From behind you, the four pilots of the Jaegers on standby begin to approach your location. It’ll be a fair fight: two Jaegers for each Kaiju. A Class Five Kaiju will be a tough battle, but you know you’re ready now.

As the first monstrous head rips through the barrier between worlds, the Rainbow Dragon is already leaping forward with a metallic clang. The Jaeger’s chest twists, allowing you to catch the beast’s pincer jaws with your fist. Satoru, already in tune with your plan, reaches out with the third arm, grasping onto the Kaiju’s other clicking pincer.

With a heavy grunt, Suguru already has the plasma cannon locked and loaded. Pulling with all your might, you feel your arm strain against the strength of the Kaiju as it tries to pull away. Yanking its jaws apart, you hear Satoru shout.

“Now, Suguru!”

He doesn’t need to say it, already understanding the order inside your own heads, but Suguru follows through regardless. With a cry, the plasma cannon fires twice into the Kaiju’s rib cage. It’s not enough to kill, but it’s enough to stun. An inhuman roar escapes the hulking creature as the shots embed into its ribs. Glowing blue blood leaks into the water as skin is ruptured.

From behind you, you hear the sounds of the Black Flash engaging in their own battle, Nanami and Haibara’s voices blending together as they fight seamlessly together.

Another Jaeger, deemed the White Serpent, is not far behind you. Taking up your side, the Kaiju finally breaks free from your grip and knocks you away. You grunt heavily as the pressure pushes against your ribs. Falling onto your back, the Rainbow Dragon is quick to right itself onto its feet, torso twisting so that Satoru can push the three of you upright.

“White Serpent,” you shout into your headset, “Three-o’clock!”

The Mark-4 Jaeger twists at your cry, pushing its fists into the head of the Kaiju as it charges them head on. The weight of the beast is strong, pushing the Jaeger backwards in its attack. It struggled under the snapping pincer of its jaws, the pilot’s grunting as they strain to hold it back.

“Hold on!” Satoru commands, the three of you already pumping your legs to rejoin the fight. “Red, engage!”

Feeling his command send bolts of energy through your right arm, you click your hand into place. The razor sharp sword propels from the Rainbow Dragon’s right forearm, locking into position as you charge for the Kaiju. Muscles straining and legs pumping, you push off the ocean floor with a leap.

Propelled through the ocean’s current, you twist your arm with a mighty swing. Arching though the darkness, your sword cuts flesh, separating the Kaiju’s arm from its body. Landing roughly against the floor, you look up from your position on one knee and watch the beast let out another monstrous sound.

The White Serpent is knocked away with an angry swipe of the Kaiju’s claws. The pilots cry out, but are otherwise unharmed, Jaeger only sustaining minor damage to the hull.

As you shift to ready for another attack, you’re startled by a sharp cry from Haibara. “Rainbow Dragon, on your six!”

Broken from your focus, unable to twist out of the way, the second Kaiju’s jaws close around your Jaeger with a sharp snap. Suguru twists the Rainbow Dragon, forcing his body into place instead of Satoru’s. It’s the left arm that gets enclosed in the Kaiju’s jaws, not Satoru’s. The other Kaiju, having broken free from the Black Flash’s hold, charged from behind, latching onto your left arm in revenge for its own kind.

“Suguru!” You cry out, left arm enclosed in a blinding pain. The black-haired pilot lets out his own sharp cry, eyes screwing shut under the agonizing pain of the beast’s jaws. Chest seizing, a weight crushes your chest. This scene is too familiar. Red lights flash through the cockpit of the Rainbow Dragon as a portion of its armor is pierced. A warning alarm flashes as an oxygen tank ruptures, alerting you of the decreased levels.

This won’t end the same way your brother did.

Arms twisting, you cry out as you twist the Jaeger’s torso. Right arm locking into place, you force the blade of your sword upwards with all your strength. Satoru follows through, a click sounding as the plasma cannon on his own hand charges.

With a mighty grunt, you push hard, muscles staining under the combined weight of the Jaeger and the ocean’s pressure. The sword slides into the Kaiju’s throat with a grotesque sound.

“Satoru!”

You hold the Kaiju steady, sweet dripping into your suit as Satoru follows through. Despite the agonizing pain and rush of depleting oxygen, the white haired pilot engages his plasma cannon, firing three simultaneous rounds into the Kaiju’s chest. Unable to struggle away with your sword embedded into its throat, Satoru successfully pierces the monster’s ribcage with his aim.

You hold your breath as the beast falls quiet.

Monstrous, growing blood leaks into the water as the Kaiju goes still. Your sword retracts into the Rainbow Dragon’s forearm with a clang. Chest heaving and arm burning, you look back at Suguru. His eyes are droopy, panting as he tries to catch his breath. He’d taken the full force of the Kaiju’s jaw, his neurological link connected to the left arm before any other portion of the Jaeger.

You don’t speak, but you feel the rush of comfort from Suguru’s side of the link. He’s alright, he tries to communicate, for now. You nod, shifting back to look at the Kaiju.

“Six,” you grunt, not taking your eyes off the lumbering corpse at your feet. “Check for a pulse.”

A grin stretches onto Satoru’s features as the whirl of the plasma cannon fills your ears again. It’s a little animalistic, but you can’t resist the stutter of your heart at the expression on his face.

Satoru fires another two shots into the beast’s ribcage, splitting the Kaiju open and allowing its chest to collapse. It's grotesque, but well-deserved after the pain it brought Suguru.

“No pulse,” Satoru confirms when the Kaiju’s rib cage splits open and its heart is pierced with a final shot from his cannon.

Grinning, the white haired pilot turns back to Suguru. Alarms are still flashing, and you take a moment to scan the oxygen levels of the Jaeger. A tank ruptured, oxygen is decreasing fast.

“Satoru, if we’re going to do this – it has to be now.”

His gaze lingers on Suguru, ensuring that his lover is alright before the Rainbow Dragon twists and locks into place again.

“M’alright,” Suguru grunts, trying to shake off the needles that feel like they’re piercing his skin.Now facing the remaining three Jaegers, you watch as the Black Flash struggles against the weight of the final beast.

“Kento! Yu!” At Satoru’s command, the Black Flash pushes the Kaiju a step backwards with immense strength.

Your feet pump again, pushing against the weight of the machine. It follows your command flawlessly, forcing its body through the ocean floor. Nanami and Haibara struggle against the final Kaiju, standing before the edge of the Breach.

With your minds linking, you understand Satoru’s plan. Sliding the sword out once more, you continue to push forward, forcing the last amount of energy you have into the charge. Chest heaving and panting, you tire under the force, but you continue. Sweat drips from your forehead, but you ignore it.

Hardened eyes and teeth gritted, you reach the Black Flash. Sword pushing forward, you force the blade through the Kaiju’s chest as the other two arms of the Rainbow Dragon grasp onto its body. Your combined weight forces both your form and the Kaiju over the edge of the Breach.

Chest seizing as you fall, you continue pushing your sword through the beast with a guttural sound. It finally gives way, slicing upwards and through the monster’s ribs. Glowing blood leaking into the water, your two bodies fall through the Breach with a bated breath.

This has to work.

Eyes squeezing shut, the Kaiju in your grasp takes a final breath as your form finally breaks through the rift between worlds.

Huffing out a breath, you pant as you try to regain your standing in the cockpit. Head racing, you barely internalize the success as you turn to look at Suguru. His eyes are drifting shut, barely able to keep himself awake under the pain of his arm. Growing dizzy from the lack of oxygen, you look downwards, watching gas escape Suguru’s own oxygen line. It must have burst sometime in the fight.

Scanning the screens in front of you, you read Suguru’s vitals with a stuttering heart. His pulse is slowing, likely from the lack of air. Before you can move to help, Satoru is already pulling his own oxygen tube from his drive-suit, a sharp sound echoing through the silence as he pulls Suguru’s out. Exchanging the lines, Satoru sacrifices his own air for his lover, allowing Suguru to take a deep inhale as it reaches his lungs.

You fight off your own lingering pain, feeling your chest sink as the reality of the situation dawns on you. Inside an entire other world, it’s up to you and your two pilots to detonate the payload and destroy the Breach. However, with Suguru fading fast and Satoru giving up his own oxygen, you know it’s a difficult task.

Sucking in your breath, you begin the ejection procedure for Suguru’s pilot seat. Clicking away at the screen in front of you, you turn to Satoru.

“’Toru,” you mumble. You’re in his head, he already knows what you must be thinking. There’s an empty, viscous twisting in your stomach as your eyes soften.

When the white haired pilot turns to look at you, his eyes are hardened with a protective look. His chest tight and breath catching, he can already tell what you’re planning. “No.”

“Satoru, please,” you whisper. You have very little options now. There’s only so much you can do. With the other Kaiju finally taking in the Rainbow Dragon, you’re sure there’s monsters already closing on your location. As you drift through the water, red lights flash as the oxygen levels continue to drop.

Satoru shakes his head again, a horrible lump swelling in his throat. He can’t let you do this. It’s far too dangerous, and the idea of leaving you alone in this Jaeger, with Kaiju surrounding you and no help within sight, Satoru doesn’t think he could ever leave you alone now.

“I can’t -” he brokenly cries. Voice twisted with a watery grief, Satoru feels like his ribs may collapse into his chest. Heart aching and eyes burning as they hold back tears, Satoru nearly whimpers. His head is racing as he tries to conceive another idea – any other idea.

“Satoru,” you murmur, eyes soft and heart aching. “Let me do this – you know I can do this. I can detonate the payload alone, there’s not enough oxygen for the two of us.”

He shakes his head again, lungs seizing. Mind racing and breathing heavily, he locks eyes with you. Breath catching, there’s nothing but sincerity in your eyes. You can do this – he knows that. You’re an experienced pilot, perhaps even more than he, but he can’t force down the angry, terrified lump in his throat. It’s the thought of leaving you here.

Either way, Satoru has to leave one of you alone.

If he follows Suguru, it’s you he’s leaving in this dangerous, life-threatening mission. If he stays, he’s risking his own life and your little residual oxygen, leaving Suguru to escape to the surface on his own.

He can’t think.

There's too much happening, thoughts racing but he can’t seem to grasp onto any of them. Stomach twisting and eyes beginning to burn with tears, Satoru chokes on a sob.

“Take care of Suguru for me, ‘Toru,” you whisper. “Right now, he needs you more than me.” Your voice is quiet. It’s just you and your copilots now. Main Control can’t hear you, connection breaking when you disappeared through the Breach. It’s just you, Satoru and Suguru, who is fading fast.

“Promise me,” he nearly sobs, voice watery and catching in his throat. “Promise me you’ll follow right after me. You detonate the payload and you get out – please, promise me that.”

You shakily nod, a sob of your own choking your throat. You push back against it. If you cry now, Satoru will never leave your side, you know it. But Suguru needs him now, his injured body needs medical attention and he can’t escape his life pod alone when he hits the surface.

“I promise, ‘Toru,” you firmly reassure, soft eyes not leaving his own teary, crystalline ones. “We’re going to Okinawa, remember?”

Satoru nods fervently, another sob breaking through his chest and echoing through the cabin. You inhale sharply, trying to resist your own cry. When Satoru gives you the command, you lean onto the screen before you, shaky fingers clicking against it as you set up his own ejection procedure.

With alarms still flashing and red lights glaring into your eyes, you take a deep breath as the Suguru and Satoru’s pilot seats begin to lift. Tilting horizontally, you make eye contact with Suguru’s dark, hazy eyes once more as the life pod closes around him. You feel the Drift begin to leave your body as both pods are forced upwards, out of the Rainbow Dragon with a firm push. Link disconnecting, you’re left with the lingering emptiness and longing from both Satoru and Suguru’s connection.

Going limp, you finally let the sob escape your lips. Tears are forced out of your ducts as you turn back towards the front of the Jaeger. In front of you is nothingness. It’s a blank expanse of another world, only a few structures apparent in the midst of the void. You can tell there are Kaiju closing on your location, the radar screen blinking with light as they approach fast.

With a determined huff and hardened eyes, you move quickly. Losing oxygen fast, you start pulling up the detonation procedure, only to grunt in frustration when the screen presents an error. You cry out, shoving the screen away as you turn towards the manual override switch.

“Fuck!”

It’s on the other side of the cockpit.

You’ll have to disconnect from your seat to reach it. If you’re quick, you can race there and back, reaching the ejection seat before the detonation timer finishes. As soon as you hit the override, the countdown will begin, and you’ll have little time to escape through the Breach.

Breathing heavily and forcing the tears away, you push down the panic. You think of Suguru and Satoru. You imagine them on the beach, Megumi by their feet as they splash in the waves with a happy laugh. You long for the picture to become reality.

In another determined breath, you pull up the ejection screen, leaving it open so that it’s ready when you settle back into the seat. Looking back at the override switch, you nod your head and unlock your drive-suit.

With aching limbs and a heavy body, you force yourself to take quick steps to the side of the cockpit. You push against all thoughts of stopping, your sore frame begging you to give in, but you continue. Reaching the switch, you force the heavy safety frame away and take a final deep breath.

Thoughts of Megumi in your mind, you harden your eyes and yank with all your might.

As the switch flips, alarms begin blaring as the Rainbow Dragon informs you of the countdown. The numbers flash in front of your face as you push yourself back to the pilot’s seat. Body heavy and mind racing, you force your body to move faster than you ever have before. You can barely breathe. The lack of oxygen begins to push against your head, causing you to sway on your feet as you grow dizzy. A ringing pain pushes at your temples and your chest seems to grow even heavier.

Reaching the seat, you force your body back in, feeling the needles slide back into your spine, you’re already clicking at the screen. Confirming ejection, your body begins to raise towards the ceiling of the Jaeger. In the flashing red countdown, you hold your breath as the last glimpse of the Kaiju’s world reaches your eyes.

As the life pod reaches the ceiling, the Rainbow Dragon begins to eject your limp body as the countdown flashes its final three digits. You can’t hold your eyes open any longer. A heavy weight presses against your chest and your skull, and you can’t resist the drooping of your eyelids. With your heaving chest and dizzy mind, a final glimpse of the beach flickers across your closing lids.

When the countdown finally flashes ‘zero,’ you're already unconscious.

The moment his life pod reaches the water’s surface, Satoru is pulling open the hatch that exposes his body to Earth’s air. He inhales a deep breath, chest heaving as he savors the oxygen he greatly needs.

Gripping the edges of the pod, the inflatable sides holding itself above the water, Satoru scans the surface for other life pods. His heart is racing, and despite having all the oxygen he could ever need, it still feels like he can’t breathe. White-knuckles grip the metal ridges of his pod, the other clutches his chest.

As soon as a second pod reaches his vision, Satoru is already lifting his body with great difficultly and diving into the ocean’s depths. Inhaling a deep breath before he goes under, the crystalline-eyed man begins paddling towards Suguru's pod.

The lid breaks away, allowing Suguru to breathe deeply as he battles the grip of unconsciousness. His lungs finally expand, allowing the oxygen to filter through his chest. Long hair brushes against his cheeks, falling loose from its place tied atop his head, Suguru feels his arm throb painfully. Though there is not a flesh wound, the nerves have been electrocuted in the fight to regain control of the Rainbow Dragon.

Though the wound stings painfully, he can barely focus on the throbbing as he pulls himself upright. His mind is screaming. The last he remembers is a final glimpse of your sweet eyes as his life pod finally ejects from the Jaeger. He’s frantic, eyes now scanning the horizon line as he tries to find you and Satoru. Splashing is heard to his left, and Suguru whips his head over his shoulder to find white hair dripping with sea water.

“’Toru!” He cries, voice cracking.

Satoru manages to pull himself out of the water, lifting himself onto the side of the pod with a heavy breath. With minimal injuries and a wide-eyed look, Satoru feels his chest caving in. He’s barely settled onto the raft when his hands are pulling Suguru’s body into his. Hands fumble against skin as a shuddering sob leaves Satoru’s lungs. Suguru responds with a weak sound of his own, bringing his uninjured hand upwards to clutch Satoru close. There's relief in their grasp, but it’s not enough.

Pressing his face into his partner’s neck, Satoru allows a few tears to leak onto Suguru’s skin. They’re both shaking, feeling weaker than ever before as they clasp each other tight. Suguru’s hand wraps around the back of Satoru’s neck, pulling him as close as he can. Both panting, the lovers lean into each other, too weak to hold themselves upright without the support of the other.

When they find the strength to pull away, Satoru presses a wet kiss against Suguru’s forehead, inhaling deeply as tears continue to fall from his eyes. His watery gaze begins scanning the ocean’s surface, counting the seconds as he searches for the third pod.

Suguru can feel each second stretch into minutes as his good arm pulls Satoru’s form tight. They're both looking now, breaths short and hearts racing, an ache sinks into their stomachs. It rolls through their gut, feeling sick as they continue to search.

The faint sound of Main Control is screaming questions into their earpieces, but neither pilot can focus long enough to listen to their frantic voices. There's too much happening: the suspense of not knowing whether the Breach has collapsed, nor if the Black Flash and the other Jaegers escaped. However, the only thought pressing at the forefront of their minds is you.

Satoru knows you would follow him.

You promised him, and he knows that you don’t take promises lightly.

All they can do is wait. Worrying his bottom lip in his teeth, Suguru can feel his pulse in his throat. Satoru’s no different, his fingers fiddling in the strands of Suguru’s hair as he pants.

The second the third pod breaks the surface, Satoru’s hands leave Suguru’s skin. His mind is in shambles, heart in his throat as he leans forward and dives back below the water. Suguru is not far behind.

Despite his injuries, there’s too much protective concern in his head. No part of him can resist the longing ache that pushes against his ribs. He has to reach you – has to see the light reach your eyes and feel your heart race under your skin. Pushing against his wounds, Suguru continues to swim in your life pod’s direction.

Satoru reaches your side first.

He can’t seem to breath; you haven’t pulled the hatch that opens your pod. Something is wrong, and Satoru feels as though his world may be collapsing before him.

Pulling himself out of the water, he leans over the window of the raft that allows him to take a glimpse of your features. His world momentarily stops when your eyes don’t open. Scrambling for the latch on the outside of the pod, Satoru yanks on the lever just as Suguru is pulling himself onto the edge.

With a hiss, the top of the pod slides open.

Shouting is still ringing in their ears, but it seems to quiet. There's a stillness in the air as Suguru reaches forward. There’s a horrible twisting in his chest that feels as though his heart is being pulled from the cavity. An empty void will be the only thing left if he doesn’t see your pretty eyes open under his gaze.

A broken, mournful sound echoes through the silence of the empty ocean atmosphere. It comes from Suguru’s chest. Black hair falling into his eyes, Suguru can’t hold back the sobs that leave his lungs. They’re angry, forlorn in a way neither pilot can describe.

Satoru feels his own tiny whine escape his lips. For some reason, he can’t seem to move. Frozen, hands hovering over your still body, Satoru’s whole world stills. He's not quite sure if he’s breathing, but his wide eyes can’t leave your form.

You’re so limp. Eyes shut, there’s no steady rise and fall of your chest. The notion makes Suguru shake harder. You look so empty now.

“Hey, Pretty,” Suguru whimpers, voice barely loud enough for Satoru to hear. “S’us – S’Suguru and Satoru.”

He brushes his trembling finger over your cheek, feeling the delicate skin beneath his own. When there's no response, Suguru falls forward, body unable to keep him upright. He feels so weak, so empty as he cries out. Pressing his forehead against your drive-suit, he longs to hear the pulsing of your heart in his ears.

Satoru finally manages to pull himself from his shocked haze. His hands furiously shaking, he places one against your hair as he begins to weep.

“C’mon Sunshine,” he manages to whisper. “Ya’ promised us.”

The combined weight of their unsurmountable grief begins to settle over them, a vacant hold filling the place in their heart where you used to reside.

“Gojo,” a voice echoes in the pilot’s ears. It’s quiet, tone stern as Satoru strains to hear it. He can’t manage a reply, but he tries to listen regardless.

“Is there a pulse?”

Suguru feels his heart seize. All breath leaving his lungs, his limbs go lax at the question. He’s unable to reach forward, too scared that if he lays his fingers on your pulse, his fears will finally be realized. If there’s no steady thump against his hand, Suguru thinks he may finally collapse.

He swears he thinks this is how Toji Fushiguro must have felt.

When his wife was pulled from the Jaeger, the grief must have been so heavy on his shoulders. The pain of losing his one and only must have pushed him so far into his head, that even his son couldn’t pull him out. When Toji Fushiguro finally succumbed to the agony, both he and his Jaeger were destroyed.

Suguru thinks he understands Toji now.

When Satoru finally drops his shaking hand to your pulse point, his long fingers trembling against your neck, the seconds bleed into hours. Every moment is silent agony as Suguru waits. Finally pressing his fingers into your pulse with a delicate touch, all time seems to stop.

A beat passes. Then another, and Satoru feels nausea pressing acid into his throat.

Another second of anguish passes.

Then, Satoru lets out a shattered, painful sound. It rips right from his chest as he leans forward and pushes his forehead into Suguru’s shoulder. Limbs shaking, Gojo weeps out his answer, “Yes.”

And time seems to start once more.

Suguru’s shoulders sag in relief, letting another sob of relief echo through his being before he’s leaning upright. His movement startles Satoru, but he can’t resist the urge to feel more of your skin against his. Pulling your torso out of the pod, Suguru lets it fall back against his chest. Your body pressed into his front, Satoru sags over your legs with his own torso pushed against yours.

Amidst them, there’s so little space, Satoru swears not even air exists between you.

With Suguru’s arms now wrapped around your waist, he buries his head in your hair and squeezes you tight. Satoru follows, his own shaking limbs stretching over you and his other lover as he lets his body finally collapse in relief. Suguru’s good hand slides down your arm, slithering to reach the pulse point at your wrist. He has to feel it himself.

When the faint beat of your heart throbs against his skin, Suguru’s lips press a faint kiss to your neck with unwavering relief.

“You’re squeezing me too tight.”

The tiny voice sounds between them. It’s a little sound, barely heard over the ones of their own cries, but Satoru immediately pulls himself away. Head lifting from your chest, his wide, crystalline eyes take in your drooping ones.

Now awake, Suguru finally feels the warmth of your skin pressed into his neck. Tired eyes finally open, he finds himself deflating further into you as if there was more space to fill. He huffs out a short laugh in between his sobs, your teasing words finally sticking home in his head. Satoru finds himself following, a chuckle of disbelief shaking his ribs.

You feel the sun’s warm rays on your skin and pull a faint smile onto your lips as you take in the beauty of the Earth’s domain, finally free of the rift between worlds.

Before any of you can speak, Satoru is pushing his hand behind your neck and yanking you forward. Your weak cry of surprise is muffled by his lips. Wet and messy, Satoru kisses you with every nerve in his body alight. Tears still falling from his cheeks, he sighs a breath against your mouth and savors the feeling of your skin in his hands. Without a beat of hesitation, you respond in kind – your own mouth moving to return Satoru’s emotional kiss. Heart swelling with the influx of genuine affection, you press your hand against Satoru’s stomach and let a breathy, pleased sigh filter into his mouth.

Neither of you can think to end the warmth of your kiss, but Suguru is already pulling you away. With his fingers under your chin, he turns your head towards him and scans your features for any hint of discomfort. When he finds none, he too leans forward to connect your lips with his own.

Suguru’s kiss is lighter than Satoru’s, but it’s no less meaningful. He’s gentle, pulling your chin forward to feel every inch of you against him. Noses knocking and salty lips sighing breathy sounds, you can’t imagine a more perfect feeling. Satoru presses into your other side, the weight of his body grounding you as you let your other hand brush against Suguru’s cheek. Pushing a stand of hair aside, you push your lips further into his with a pleased sound.

When you pull away, Satoru is already moving to kiss his lover with the same amount of passion as before. You allow yourself to sag into their weight, closing your eyes to skin into their bliss as they press into each other.

As the three of you collapse into weak laughter and the steady beat of the wings of a helicopter reach your ears, you can’t imagine being anywhere else. Pressed between Satoru and Suguru and sinking into absolute bliss, you shake with laughter as the white haired pilot finally speaks.

“You fucker!” he whines as he presses his head into your chest once more. “Don’t ever do that again!”

Hot, white sand presses in between your toes as you take in the beauty of Okinawa island. Six weeks have passed, and after sufficiently celebrating the program’s victory, Suguru and Satoru sweep you off your feet.

They pick up you and Megumi, pulling the two of you to the airport with wide grins and hushed words. When you finally step food onto the beach, Megumi’s mouth falls open in an awed expression. His dark eyes seem to sparkle from his place in Satoru’s arms. Squirming lightly, your lover sets him on his feet.

The three of you watch with giggles escaping your lips as Megumi races to the water’s edge. Sticking his toes in the teal blue waves, your officially-adopted son turns back to look at you.

“Okaasan!” he cries happily, racing back to you with a happy smile. Satoru and Suguru lean into each other with a giddy feeling in their chests as you and your sun wander back to the wet sand.

You point out a shell to your son, smiling brightly when his wondrous, wide eyes feel the smooth material under his fingers. He clutches it tight, looking up at you with a grin. Turning away to find more, you look back at your partners. Waving them closer, you drop a little lower to flick Suguru with a wave of salty water when he’s close enough.

With an indignant shout, Suguru grins wickedly. Megumi watches you squeal, laughing when Suguru lunges for you. With a smile of his own, Megumi giggles a sweet sound as his mother is chased by her lover.

“Suguru, no!” You laugh, racing to hide behind Satoru. Your other lover stands tall, feeling more light than he thinks he’s ever been.

“You started this, Pretty,” Suguru teases, his sultry eyes scanning you from behind his lover’s back. “I’m just finishing it!”

Satoru laughs, crossing his arms over his chest as he feels your hands grasp the fabric of his shirt to hide yourself. Heart warm, Satoru gives Suguru a knowing look. He’s met with a devilish smirk, the two scheming between themselves.

Satoru is silent when he ducks quickly, dropping to his knees to allow Suguru ample distance to grab you. You cry out, moving to lunge away, but Suguru is much quicker.

You squeal once more as Suguru's hands slide over your waist. With muscles honed from years as a pilot, the long haired man has no trouble lifting your body over his shoulder. He hums a sultry sound as Satoru laughs. Standing straight, he heads back to the water with your squirming body in his grasp.

“Megumi, save me!”

Your son giggles and shakes his head, enjoying his parents laugh and playing without a care in the world.

When Suguru reaches the water, he swings you back over his shoulder and unceremoniously drops the both of you beneath the waves. Your laughter is cut short, submerged beneath the warmth of the waves. Reemerging with a gasp, your wet lashes bat against your cheeks as you grasp for Suguru.

From the beach, Satoru is sneaking up behind Megumi, attempting to muffle his own scheming laughter. You watch the white haired man pluck Megumi up from the sand, loving the sound of their laughter. Then, Satoru is pulling your son into the waves next to you, the four of you sitting in the shallow waves together with bright smiles and happy hearts.

A few hours later, when the four of you are dried off and relaxing in the little cottage you’ve rented, Satoru slides up behind you. His hands on your hips, his strong arms pull your back into his chest with a hum. You sigh into his embrace, leaning back into his touch with a stuttering heart.

You’ve decided that no matter how many times he or Suguru touch you, their skin will still light a fire to every nerve ending you possess Their touch brings a tingle to your body, twisting your stomach with butterflies and sending a giddy feeling into your chest.

“Where’s Suguru and Megumi?” You question, eyes falling shut as Satoru presses a feather light kiss to your neck. His hair tickles against your skin, but you refuse to break away from his grasp.

“Hmm,” Satoru sings, “Nanami and Haibara called. Yuuji wants Megumi to spend the night at their place.”

The two retired pilots followed your trip to Okinawa, renting a cabin not too far from yours. You mentally thanked your old friends, wondering how you got so lucky.

When Satoru presses closer, you can feet the hint of something throbbing and pressing against your back. His pants are tight, but it’s no surprise to you – Satoru is constantly horny. Muffling a laugh, you turn in his arms to face him.

“Ah -” you murmur into his chest as the two of you rock side to side. “So we have the house to ourselves, huh?”

Satoru hums again, his hands slowly dropping lower as you move. “M’rubbing off on you, Sunshine. I swear you’re as insatiable as me.”

You grin, a sultry smirk pulling on your lips. Dropping your own hand low, you follow the line of Satoru’s abs with light fingers. Head dropping back in a groan, the sound allows arousal to collect in the space between your thighs. A bolt of seductive heat turns into a steady hum. You let your fingers sink a little lower, brushing against the edge of Satoru’s pants.

Before you can move any further, there’s a dark hum from the doorway.

Freezing in place, the sound of Geto Suguru’s deep, salacious voice echoes from the doorway, “Getting started without me, Pretty Girl? Awfully naughty of you –”

You nearly whine at his words, sinking into the dominant aura Suguru's exudes over the room. You don’t have to turn over your shoulder as Suguru is already pressing his chest against your back. His defined muscles and tightened pants push tight into you and you sigh a pleased sound.

Suguru mirthfully chuckles, looking up from your form to meet Satoru’s bright eyes. As always, the two connect on another wavelength, already planning their next movements in their head with confident smirks.

Suguru drags a finger down your spine, his touch sending a pleasant shiver down your spine. Oh, how he loves to see you shake under him.

“S’it, Pretty baby,” he sings as you melt into him.

Satoru hums again, pushing you tighter into your other lover as he drops his head to suck marks into your skin. Pulling at the hem of your - his shirt, actually - he fiddles with the material with his fingers. A whine escapes your lips as you arch into their touch, arousal collecting between your legs.

“Don’t worry, Angel. We’ve got ya’” Satoru murmurs into your skin. “’Gonna fuck you so good, My Love.”

Suguru makes an acknowledging sound, beginning to pull the shirt from your skin so he can feel the heat of your skin against his. When it falls to the floor, his own laying beside it, he lets out an appreciative sound as his fingers lift to flick gently against your uncovered breasts. Chuckling as you whine when he tugs, Suguru presses closer.

“S’right,” Suguru purrs. “Wanna ruin you tonight, Pretty. ‘Gonna let us?”

The rapid, consenting nod that follows shortly after is all the affirmation the two need. Tugging you towards the bed with a laugh, your little world begins to turn on its own, finally complete.

bonus:

reader: I’m so fed up with others not finding me intimidating!

reader, pining satoru to the wall and looking over at suguru: do you feel threatened?

suguru and satoru: no

reader: then what do you feel?

suguru and satoru: ...

suguru and satoru: horny.

a/n: holy shit. this is way longer than I intended it to be but I’m so glad I finished it. I really hope y’all enjoy this one!!

1K notes · View notes

snackhobi · 4 years

Text

this is my part of the rockin’ around the christmas tropes collab with @yeojaa, @underthejoon @ladyartemesia, @ppersonna, @untaemedqueen, @xjoonchildx ✨ MERRY (early) CHRISTMAS Y’ALL

summary: yoongi is your favourite regular. he’s patient, polite, and predictable, a-large-black-coffee-to-go-please, no cream, no sugar, thank you. rinse and repeat. the seasons might change, but yoongi’s order stays the same.

and then one fateful day in winter, yoongi asks about the weekly specials, orders a cup of christmas and sugary sweetness, and everything starts changing.

pairing: yoongi x barista f!reader / word count: 14.8k / genre: coffeeshop!au, fluff, dash of smut (NSFW)

warnings: slow burn, terrible drink concoctions, pining, miscommunication (kind of/reader comes to incorrect conclusions based on literally nothing), the tiniest bit of swearing, heated makeouts, oral (m receiving), I think that’s it

a/n: I have a lot of people to thank: thank you to my loveliest most beautiful wife @yeojaa for the beautiful banner 🥺💖 thank you to @morndas for helping me name this fic and suggesting some of the awful weekly specials featured within 🥰 thank you to @yeoldontknow for letting me have multiple meltdowns at her and for letting me pick her brain about working in the music industry, and for helping me with plot points I wasn’t sure about!! 💕

also thank you to @hobi-gif for helping me brainstorm the original fic idea with her; she hasn’t beta’ed this fic because I am TERRIBLE and literally finished this like an hour before posting. that’s on me and not her. I am a shambles without her indomitable proof reading skills; any mistakes are down to me, and I apologise for that. I’ve only read this through like once, sorry in advance, I’m literally formatting this while I should be getting ready for work

Being a barista isn’t all bad.

Like, okay, you’re on your feet for hours at a time, the pay isn’t exactly the highest in the world, and coffee beans have a tendency to end up in the weirdest places (how did you get the light roast in your bra?)—but it’s not entirely terrible.

Here’s a (totally not comprehensive) list of good things about working at the Paradise coffee shop:

The free drinks (y’know, for taste testing purposes)

The free food (you probably eat more than you’re actually allowed, but who’s telling?)

Your coworkers (like Taehyung, who is—yep—currently shoving a whole mini panettone in his mouth)

Most of the customers are pretty nice, too (you have some lovely regulars)

(If you had to be more specific, there’s one regular in particular that you really, really like—)

(Yoongi appears like clockwork every week. Just after the Tuesday lunch rush, the bell above the door will sing out its greeting as he steps inside, ordering the same drink each and every time he’s here—a large Americano, to go, plain and simple and unadorned, no room for cream or milk, no added sugar or sweetener.)

(Yoongi really is the perfect customer. He has been from the very beginning, a point of quiet in a churning sea of hot, sweaty people all begging for frappés and milkshakes, the hottest point at the very peak of summer. The queue had been growing longer and longer, out of the doors as the blenders whirred their way through a neverending cascade of sugary, iced blends; the counters were a mess and all the baristas were running around and everything was chaos and in had walked this guy, all dark hair and dark eyes and dark clothes, even in the height of summer—you were ready for death at this point, hands sticky with syrup and apron streaked with flecks from almost every drink from the summer menu, and you’d braced yourself for some terse words, impatience and passive aggressive comments on the long wait—)

(—and this intimidating man had just patiently asked for an iced Americano, calm and quiet and polite.)

(You’d fallen a little in love, then and there. Fallen in love with that simple order, quick and easy to make, and fallen a little in love with the dichotomy of the man who looked like nothing but sharp edges being the softest customer you’d had all day. There was nothing rushed about his motions, no desperate need to get his drink and get away, no anger at having waited for so long.)

(He’d been ready to pay, too, no fumbling with his wallet or money; he’d tapped his card, easy and breezy and all lemon squeezy, but he’d left a tip in change, dropped almost thoughtlessly into the jar. He’d collected his cup with the smallest upturn to his lips, a tilt of his head, and then he’d left, other customers parting before him like the Red Sea.)

(The only thing that’s changed over the months is that the iced coffees of summer have changed into hot Americanos for the cooler months, autumn and now almost-winter, warding off the chill in the air. Everything else is the same; his dark eyes and low voice and patient smile, small but ever present, pressed lightly into the surprisingly soft line of his mouth.)

(So, yeah. Yoongi is your favourite customer. Even if you’ve barely spoken, really, the two of you dancing through the same short script each time he comes in—the longest conversation you’ve had so far is the one where you’d tentatively asked if he’d like a rewards card, and after a moment of contemplation, he’d quietly agreed.)

(You like to think that you’re Yoongi’s favourite server, too. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but—)

(Taehyung had been stunned into speechlessness, because, to quote his words exactly: “I tried getting him to sign up for a card last time and I swear he just pretended he couldn’t hear me? He just straight up didn’t respond? What?”)

(—you know Yoongi likes you at least a little bit.)

Anyway. You’re getting off the point. Paradise is a decent place to work, the people are nice, and the building is pretty and airy and welcoming and warm, toasty and cosy in the upcoming cold of winter. It’s one of the things that keeps people coming back, that lovely atmosphere.

Another thing that people apparently love about Paradise is the constantly changing menu. It’s not enough to have seasonal menus, no—you need to have weekly specials, apparently, to keep people interested. It’s like a gachapon, but instead of cute little capsule toys, it’s a random mix of concoctions that are hit or miss.

“Well, I liked the Peachy Keen Jelly Bean,” Taehyung says, around a mouthful of sweet bread, still chewing his way through the panettone.

“You’d be the only one,” you reply, swiping a cloth over the counters and crinkling your nose at the pile of coffee grounds you gather. “Iced peach tea with blackberry and vanilla and cherry and watermelon syrup has got to be one of the worst things we’ve ever served.”

That had definitely been one of the misses. This week’s special, though, is far more palatable, if incredibly sweet—Crystal Snow, a white chocolate mocha with whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar, and a crystallised sugar stick to stir in. Sugar on sugar on sugar, basically. (Your teeth ache just thinking about it.)

But there’s always something so fun about making the winter specials, no matter how sugary they are; the smell of the sticky syrups, the swirl of cream to top off the cup, the dusting of cocoa or cinnamon, everything mulled in the sweet warmth of winter. Even if the drink you’re making is questionable, you get so excited about it, genuinely enthusiastic when you recommend them to customers, carrying everyone into the spirit of the upcoming holidays. You’d hardly describe making coffee a billion times a day fun—it’s pretty exhausting, actually—but you’ve always had a weird affection for the winter menu and the weekly specials alongside it.

You don’t upsell the drinks because you have to. You do it because you want to.

(You’re pretty good at it too. Not a flex: just a fact. Your customer service is on point.)

The only person you’ve never tried to persuade into trying something new is Yoongi. He might not be rude or short tempered, but he clearly knows what he wants, and you hate the idea of ruining the easy flow of his visits. You’re not about to embarrass yourself by asking Mr No-Cream-Or-Sugar if he’d like a drink that's nothing but cream and sugar. Asking about the rewards card had been nerve-wracking enough, even if it had been worth it for the genuinely-unintentional-but-definitely-not-unpleasant brushing of your fingers when you’d handed the card over to him.

(Okay. Look. Yoongi is patient and pleasant and polite and cute. You never thought that you’d crush on a customer, but here you are. He just… oozes masculinity in an understated, self-assured way that has you internally swooning. He looks intimidating and serious but when he smiles his eyes go soft-soft-soft, his voice a low rumble as he gives you his gentle thank you, and everything about him is just so… attractive. Even the way he holds his coffee is hot, fingers loose around the lid as he makes his way out of the café, your eyes tracing every motion as he goes. Like. Come on. Of course you’re crushing on him.)

(Just a little bit, though. Just a little bit. It’s just an itty bitty crush. A teeny weeny crush.)

The bell above the door chimes. Your kneejerk reaction is to snap your head over to see who it is—but you hold it together, instead letting your head turn at a normal, natural pace. It’s just an unfamiliar woman, rearranging the tassels of her long scarf with one hand and holding her phone with the other as the door swings shut, and you deflate.

(... It’s a small crush, you swear. It’s not like this is around the normal time Yoongi appears and you’d thought it was going to be him. Nope. Definitely not that.)

As the woman lingers near the counter, eyes flicking between her phone and the chalkboard menu on the wall above your head, Taehyung finishes licking the panettone crumbs off his fingers.

“It’s Tuesday,” he states solemnly.

“I know?”

“It’s just past two o’clock,” he continues.

“I know,” you repeat, glancing at him quizzically. “You told me what the time was less than five minutes ago.”

“I did.”

The bell chimes again. This time, a gaggle of giggling girls come bubbling into the café, cutting you off before you can ask what Taehyung is trying to say. You go to flick your cloth at him before thinking better of it, not wanting to rain dark roast everywhere.

“Go wash your hands,” you say, just as the scarfed woman approaches the counter, ready to order. A bright smile splits your face, voice rising into its usual peppy Customer Service tone. “Hi, welcome to Paradise! How can I help you today?”

She barely glances up from her phone as she orders, asking for a latte macchiato and croissant, a distracted ‘no thanks’ when you ask if she’s interested in this week’s special. Oh well. The girls behind her, though, all seem incredibly excited when they catch wind of it; they all eagerly listen as you describe what a Crystal Snow is, your eyes lighting up as you mime piping the cream and dusting the sugar on top, laughing when they ask if they can buy extra sugar sticks to take home, because of course they can, you’d be happy to do that for them, would they like those in to-go bags? Yes, the bags are cute, aren’t they, the snowflakes are lovely, you agree.

Taehyung’s just finished wiping the steam wand when you give him the next order. You see the way his face crumples before his brows lift and his lips purse, pleading as he looks at you with big eyes, and you just roll your own eyes affectionately.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make them even though you’re meant to be on the bar, it’s fine,” you say, and Taehyung’s whole face lights up.

You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough by now to know that it takes him until at least Wednesday to memorise how to make whatever that week’s special is. And there’s not a queue, so you don’t mind taking over, pulling espresso shots and steaming milk and pouring everything together, puffing air in Taehyung’s face when he peers at your cream swirling technique. (No matter how many times you’ve tried to teach him, he’s never been able to get it right, usually just farting a mess of cream out of the nozzle and hoping for the best. Results are… mixed.) Maybe the flourish you put into dusting the sugar on top is unnecessary, but, hey. It’s fun. You smile to yourself as you give a small flick of the wrist over each drink, powdered sugar floating down like snow, and, done.

You don’t like to toot your own horn but the drinks come out Instagram perfect, each latte glass set on a tiny napkin on a saucer, sugar stick on one side, and you take a moment to admire your work.

“They’re so pretty,” Taehyung says, and your smile grows wider.

The girls all agree, cooing over the drinks in a way that only makes your smile grow even more, wide on your face. You watch as they squirrel themselves away in a corner, talking and laughing and nibbling their food and sipping at their drinks, pleased at the way their eyes widen at the first taste.

Yeah, it’s the small things that makes your time here good. Being a barista is a thankless job most of the time, as relaxed as Paradise usually is, so you try to appreciate the small things. Like having fun when you make a drink, for example. Making nice customers happy. (Having cute regulars that you can quietly ogle.)

Actually, on the note of cute regulars—

“Your 2:15 appointment is here.”

You tear your attention away from the table of girls at the sound of Taehyung’s voice. “My what—?”

There’s someone in front of the glass display, hunched as they slowly and quietly peruse the selection of pastries and food inside—and you realise with a jolt that it’s Yoongi. You have no idea how long he’s been there, so distracted with patting yourself on the back for making a few nice drinks; oh, God, what if Yoongi had seen your pleased expression? Do you look smug? You probably look smug. Great, now he probably thinks that you’re a self-obsessed clown, honking your nose like some sort of narcissist.

“You’re spiralling,” Taehyung points out mildly, voice low enough that Yoongi doesn't hear.

His surprisingly perceptive comment snaps you out of aforementioned spiralling, and after shaking yourself off, you glance over at him. “Why didn’t you serve him?”

He shrugs. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to be served so I just left him to it.”

To be fair to Taehyung, he’s not wrong. Yoongi is staring intently at a slice of carrot cake—even if he’s never ordered any before—and it’s not until you move to your usual spot behind the till that his attention finally rises, meeting your gaze with his deep, dark eyes.

Your inner schoolgirl feels like she needs to sit down. Your entire stomach and chest is a looping mess of frantic butterflies after making eye contact with the cute boy who you’re crushing on, but you’ve got a great poker face; you’ve worked as a barista long enough that you’re good at shoving your real feelings down, none of your internal turmoil playing across your face as you smile. Customer service mode activate.

“Hi, and welcome back to Paradise. What can I get for you today? The usual? Large Americano, to go, for Yoongi?”

You’re a little softer than you would be with other customers, a little more subdued, dialing down how upbeat you normally are to match Yoongi’s level. His lips lift almost imperceptibly, the faintest smile playing across his mouth, and it takes all your strength for your knees to not immediately buckle.

“Hi,” he says. His voice is soft and low, faintest drawl at the end of his words, and yep, just your weekly reminder that you’re enamoured with him. Cool. “Yes, please, that would be great.”

He already has his card ready, you know he does. He always does; card to pay, loyalty card to swipe, tip to drop in the jar, quick and smooth and easy. This is normally where you’d rattle off the price—as if he doesn’t already know what it is—but you pause, thinking about how intent he’d been on the pastry display, as uncharacteristic as that is.

“Did you… want something to eat, too? I couldn’t, um, help noticing that you were eyeing up the carrot cake?”

Yoongi blinks, wispy lashes fluttering. You can see the muted surprise that flashes across his face, and you wonder if you’ve misstepped, thrown off the usual rhythm of his visit. It’s an unusual step away from your regular script, an ad-lib that he wasn’t expecting.

“Uh, no, thank you,” he says. “Maybe… next time.”

He’s polite as ever, thankfully. You’re not surprised at his answer but you do have to wonder why he was looking at the cake so closely if he hadn’t planned on getting anything; you know he likes getting served by you the most, if the evidence over the months means anything at all, but you don’t think he’d stare at cake just so he would avoid Taehyung. You’re making assumptions based on the fact he just drinks black coffee and literally nothing else, but you’ve guessed he doesn’t have a sweet tooth. (The only time he’s ever ordered food had been two months prior when he’d asked for a single croissant, and nothing since. Taehyung still talks about the croissant sometimes.)

Well, it doesn't really matter. If he doesn't want cake, you're not going to force it on him, and the rest of the transaction goes as normal. Yoongi hands over his rewards card, fingers long and knuckles knobbly and altogether lovely, pays for his Americano—made by Taehyung, cup wrapped in the sleeve that you’ve written Yoongi’s name on, black sharpie bleeding into the cardboard—and smiles at you both when Taehyung hands it to him across the smooth wood of the counter.

“Thanks.” He gives you that slight tilt of his head that he always does, and you smile helplessly back.

He’s a gentleman, through and through, even if he looks as distant as ever; dressed in all black, his ripped jeans the only splash of lightness in his dark outfit. Maybe you’re biased, but no matter what he wears, he looks stylish, somehow. It’s something in his aura. All cool understated elegance and power.

And here you are, in your cream jumper under the dark mulberry apron of your uniform, a flower blooming next to the name on your badge. All chirpy customer service, smiling broad and wide as you go through the same motions over and over with each new person that comes in. Sometimes you wonder what Yoongi thinks of you, as different as you are to him, but at the end of the day it doesn’t really matter—because he keeps coming back, doesn’t he?

“Have a nice day,” you say as he turns to go, and when he glances over his shoulder and says you too, smile soft and eyes softer, you know he really means it.

(And if your eyes always trail after him once his back has turned, who’s telling?)

“You’re staring.” Taehyung’s telling, apparently.

You tear your eyes away from Yoongi, bell tinkling as the door swings shut behind him. “He’s my favourite customer,” you say. As if that explains why you were staring.

“You’ve barely spoken to him.”

“He’s my favourite customer,” you say again, emphatically. “He comes in, he gets the world’s simplest drink to make, is always polite, always leaves a tip, and he goes. Literally the perfect customer.”

“Alright, true,” he says, as if he hadn’t considered that before now. “Cute, too.”

You sigh. A little wistful. “Yeah,” you say. “Yeah, he is.”

Taehyung opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something else when someone spills their drink on their floor with an unholy clattering sound, even if nothing breaks; without saying anything, both you and Taehyung raise your hands, eyes narrowing at each other.

"Rock, paper, scissors," you chant. Taehyung promptly loses, and the pout that forms on his lips doesn't disappear until he's finished mopping everything up.

(“Why do I always end up having to clean spillages?”

“Because you never win rock-paper-scissors. You always choose scissors, Taehyung. You literally always choose scissors.”)

The tradition of the weekly specials at Paradise is a weird one, truth be told. Each Monday whoever’s on the opening shift will enter the coffee shop and find that the board on the wall has been updated, the recipe typed up and laminated, waiting on the counter for the baristas. You all assume it’s the mysterious owner, who no one has ever seen, and no one even knows the name of, apparently.

“Someone has to know their name,” you’d said, once, back when you’d first started, only to receive a shrugs from everyone.

“I heard one of the old baristas say the owner’s name was Jackson,” Taehyung had said, and you’d just blinked at him.

“Huh?” you’d said, but Jimin had rolled his eyes and told you to ignore him, so you had.

This week’s drink is the Marshmallow World. As always, when you and Taehyung start your shift together, you read the recipe and follow it step by step to learn how to make it. Warmed milk, vanilla syrup, topped off with marshmallow fluff instead of whipped cream—not bad in theory, if you like sweet things, although it does pose one significant problem.

“It’s clogged my hole,” Taehyung says sadly.

You sputter on your own drink, desperately hacking your lungs out as you try to stop milk from going down your windpipe. “I’m-sorry-it’s-what,” you wheeze all at once, struggling for air.

Taehyung tilts his takeaway cup at you, gesturing at the lid. (All the mugs are still out back or on a rinse cycle so laziness had forced you to make do.) “My drink hole. It’s blocked,” he explains. “The fluff is getting in the way.”

So, yeah. It clogs people’s holes, apparently. But other than that, you have to admit it’s pretty nice, and if you drink it in the café (and thus out of a mug) then you’re fine. You just get into the habit of warning the customers if they order it to go and laugh about it with them and it’s all fine and dandy and everyone is happy.

It’s starting to get busier, now. The nights are getting longer and the days are getting colder and everyone’s starting to think about Christmas, which feels both close and far away, all at once. Close, because you still have presents to buy and there’s never enough time for it; and far, because the lights have yet to go up and Christmas songs aren’t dominating the radio yet and you have yet to experience the real winter rush. Students home for the holidays and families out to see Father Christmas and workers grabbing Secret Santa gifts, everyone desperate for something warm and soothing, hot and comforting in the face of the snow which has yet to fall.

But there’s something in the air, that cool hush that lets you know it’s nearly here—the changing of the seasons, the burnt sunset colours of autumn melting into the iced blues and greys of winter. No matter if you prefer hot or cold weather, there’s something about the beauty of wintertime that’s undeniable.

And it’s a lot easier to sell something like the Marshmallow World on a day like this, the nip in the air almost solid, biting cold into the apples of your cheeks, nibbling at fingers that are so cold they feel frost-bitten. Once again, your genuine enthusiasm shines through, persuading people to give the drink a go, happy to add a shot of espresso for whoever needs it, desperate for caffeine to buoy them up through the day.

You’ve just finished laughing with a lovely old couple, wearing matching scarves and hats—awwww—waving them goodbye as they go to sit down, when you come face to face with Yoongi, blindsided by his sudden appearance. You’d been so caught up, once again, too busy giggling your way through the conversation with your other customers, able to persuade them to try one special to share alongside everything else they’ve ordered.

“Oh. Uh. Hi,” you say. Your hand is still by your face after you’d given the couple a cute wave, and when you realise, you freeze. Flustered. Behind you, Taehyung is struggling to spoon the marshmallow fluff neatly on the vanilla steamer, making small noises of distress, but you’re too caught up in your own distress to really notice.

Once again, you have no idea how long Yoongi’s been there. You’re slipping. You’re normally aware of him as soon as he steps into the coffee shop. (You know, because you’re always aware of when a new customer steps in. Like any good barista would be.) Had he witnessed you enthusiastically waving your hands and talking about marshmallows and s'mores? Seen the way you'd grinned and laughed as you'd gotten excited over the weekly special, yet again?

Well, if he had, he doesn't seem perturbed at all. His usual smile is on his face, though you would swear it seems a little softer around the edges, almost fond.

“Hi,” he says, and… that’s it.

There’s no addition of his usual that would be great, and that’s when you realise you haven’t asked about his coffee. In fact, your fingers are still curled near your chin, almost like a claw. You clear your throat and let your arm fall to your side, fiddling with the tie of your apron.

“Hi,” you repeat. Flounder for a second. Try to remember your usual line. “Large Americano?”

“Y/n.” Taehyung whines your name from the bar, loud enough that it catches your attention. “The marshmallow isn’t staying. Why do you keep recommending Marshmallow World? Why must I suffer through this torture? Every day I wake up and I make coffee—”

“Sorry, sir, one second,” you say, face scrunching in apology at Yoongi.

“It's just Yoongi,” he replies, gentle, and your heart thuds in your chest. "You don't have to call me sir."

Your face feels warm. "Um, okay, Yoongi." You've said his name before, of course, said it dozens of times to confirm his order, but never like this—by invitation from the man himself, an acknowledgement of familiarity.

Taehyung makes another noise. Yoongi's expression turns into one of faint amusement, eyes drifting over your shoulder to your friend; when you turn around, you can see why.

The other barista’s managed to get marshmallow fluff all over the edge of the glass, on the handle of the cup, all the way up the spoon, on his fingers—everywhere except on the drink itself. It’s funny, in a sad sort of way.

“Wow.” You have no idea how he managed it, but you’re here to help. “Alright, go wash your hands, Tae. I’ve got this.”

The cup is a goner. There’s no way you’ll be able to wipe off the sticky marshmallow. You’re acutely aware of Yoongi at the counter, able to watch your every move, but then you get distracted as you salvage Taehyung's attempt at a Marshmallow World. You just feel grateful that it’s a steamer so you can pour it into a new glass, not having to worry about layers of coffee and milk and foam; it’s a pretty easy fix. Good. (You don’t want to keep Yoongi waiting, as patient as he may be.)

It doesn’t take long to spoon the marshmallow on, whipped peaks in the sticky white, and by the time Taehyung returns you’re ready to present him with the picture perfect drink, not a single lick of fluff anywhere it shouldn’t be. You've got your hands on your hips as you survey your work proudly, and Taehyung sticks his tongue out at you.

“Witchcraft,” he says, and you laugh.

“You’re welcome,” you say. “Alright, shoo, go take this over to the table before they start wondering where it is.”

When you turn back, Yoongi’s watching you. Contemplative. You tamp down the flush that threatens to spill onto your cheeks, face burning, but before you can say anything, he speaks.

“Was that the weekly special?”

You blink. Blindsided. Yoongi’s never asked about the special before, never commented on the A-frame outside, the sign on the wall that sits next to the regular menu. No surprise there—why would someone who only drinks Americanos want to drink ninety-nine percent of the weekly specials you offer? “Um, yeah,” you say. “We’ve got the Marshmallow World this week.”

“Would you recommend it?”

You can’t help it. You light up. You love when customers ask for recommendations, and the fact that it’s Yoongi—whose blood must be made of coffee at this point—who’s asking about it? Americano Yoongi, asking about something without caffeine? Black coffee Yoongi, asking about a weekly special that’s nothing but sugar and sweetness? Something inside you switches on, a Christmas tree, all flashing lights and shimmering tinsel and excitement.

“Oh, if you like sweeter drinks, absolutely! It’s great for a cold day like today,” you gush. Maybe you should reel it in, far more exuberant than you usually are with Yoongi, but. You can’t stop. “It’s warm milk and vanilla, so it’s a lovely comfort drink, and we can add a shot of espresso too if you were wanting a little pick-me-up. And then you’ve got marshmallow fluff on top for some extra self-indulgence. We were meant to, uh, toast the top, actually, but we don’t have the necessary health and safety clearance for blowtorches. I guess you could do that at home if you really wanted to. Everyone likes toasted marshmallows, right?”

Yoongi hums, and you wonder if you’ve maybe gotten ahead of yourself. Oversold it. Maybe he was asking out of curiosity. Just because he’s asking about it doesn’t mean that he wants one—

“Can I get a Marshmallow World, please? Large, to go?”

—or maybe Yoongi is an official convert to the world of sweet drinks, changing after a lifetime of drinking unadorned, unadulterated black coffee. Holy shit. Holy shit? Holy—

“And a large Americano to go, too, please.”

(Record scratch. Freeze frame.

Yoongi of-the-black-coffee is ordering his usual drink, and another. Both large. Too much for one person to reasonably drink before one of them got cold. He’s not ordering for one person; he’s ordering for two people. Of course Yoongi wouldn’t order something as heart-stopping as the Marshmallow World—not for himself, anyway.

Mental maths. Two plus two is four, four plus four is eight; one large Americano and one Marshmallow World is two people. Yoongi and one other person is two people, a couple of people, a couple—

Oh, God.

A couple.

You’ve been crushing on a taken man.

You know how they say your life flashes before your eyes before you die? It’s sort of like that, but rather than remembering your life, you immediately recall every moment over the months where you’ve looked at him or thought about him with even the smallest iota of longing and you want to crawl under the counter and never come out.

You feel weirdly guilty. Like… like you’re some sort of unintentional homewrecker. Even though, you know, you thought Yoongi was single and you haven’t made a single move on him and nor had you had any plans to. The guilt bubbles up inside you anyway.

All at once, you feel immensely, incredibly embarrassed. Of course he’s taken. There’s no way he wouldn’t be, as attractive and nice as he is, and you’ve just been sat here crushing on him like a big dumb idiot.

You are the worst.)

You manage to squeeze this internal breakdown into the span of a few seconds. You’re grateful that you have your customer service face locked on, giving nothing away—from the outside the smile looks just like that, a smile, rather than the rictus of deathly mortification it actually is, burning through you like a wildfire.

Yoongi seems none the wiser, just patiently waiting for some sort of acknowledgement of his order. Most of your brain power is still taken up with the mish-mash of humiliation and guilt that’s roiling through you. Luckily, though, the part of your brain that’s still in the moment (trying to drag you back to the real world, shame-faced as you are) forces you to move before things get weird.

“One large Americano, one large Marshmallow World, both to go.” You tap the drinks into the till on auto-pilot, dimly noting that Taehyung’s been pulled into conversation with the old couple at their table, having delivered their drinks and food to them. It’s just you behind the counter, no one else to man the coffee machines. “Let me get those started for you.”

Luckily, making the drinks means you can turn your back to Yoongi, oscillating through the five stages of grief as you fiddle with hot milk and coffee grounds and paper cups. You always take pride in your work—especially when it comes to Yoongi—and you take even more pride now, determined to make these drinks as lovely as they can be. His Americano is fairly simple, but the Marshmallow World requires a bit more finesse, and you lavish attention on the fluff, swirling it beautifully, even though you know it’ll stick to the lid anyway.

(Okay, listen. Whoever this person Yoongi is seeing must be as nice as he is. They both deserve nice drinks.)

There’s something sweet about it, actually. Before the lids go on, you spent a second staring down at the drinks and the juxtaposition between them; black coffee and white marshmallow, bitter and sweet, night and day. It’s lovely, really, these two opposing things coming together. You wonder what Yoongi’s partner is like. Exuberant and bright, rather than his subdued warmth? A balance, yin and yang, opposite but complementary.

(Isn’t that a nice thing to think about? Finding someone who’s different to you but matches you so well?)

You firmly press the lids into place, making sure they’re secure. The protective cardboard sleeve of Yoongi’s Americano has his name—the name you’ve memorised, written out countless times—while the Marshmallow World has a scrawled happy face, and an enjoy! on it, for this mysterious person who likes sweet drinks. You do sincerely hope they enjoy it. You really do.

“The fluff blocks the hole,” you warn, sliding the cardboard tray for both drinks carefully across the counter. “It’s probably a better idea to just take the lid off.”

Something flickers across Yoongi’s face, too fast for you to identify. But then he nods, lifting the tray up with equally careful hands. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says.

He’s always polite to everyone, Taehyung and the other baristas, but he seems to smile at you the most. He’s smiling at you now, curling at the corners of his lips, and you smile back, fighting through ten layers of embarrassment and self-inflicted shame to do so. Just because he smiles at you the most doesn’t mean anything. You can smile at people and not have it be weird; it doesn’t mean you return their ill-fated attraction.

Why, oh why, oh why.

By the time Taehyung returns to the counter, having escaped the chatty, kind clutches of the elderly couple, Yoongi is long gone. Your fellow barista finds you crouched down in front one of the cupboards with your head in your hands.

“Y/n?” He sounds incredibly concerned. “Are you okay? Do you have a headache? Are you sick?”

You let out a quiet noise, a mix between a whale dying and a hippo trying to swallow porridge, muffled into your palms. “I’m such a doughnut,” you say. “Just an absolute doughnut.”

Taehyung crouches beside you. “A glazed doughnut or a jam doughnut?”

Your hands drop away from your face as you think. “Plain,” you say, eventually. “Unglazed. No toppings or fillings.” A little sad and disappointing. It seems fitting.

Taehyung puts a hand on your shoulder, warm and comforting. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You feel embarrassed all over again, thinking about admitting your (now-squashed) crush to your friend. It was stupid in the first place, crushing on a customer, especially as you’d barely spoken to him; Yoongi might be cute, and nice, but your crush was silly and dumb and you’d been silly and dumb not to think that he was already in a relationship.

“I’m fine,” you say. “Just going through it. And by ‘it’ I mean life generally, you know?”

Taehyung makes a noise of understanding, patting your shoulder. “Big mood,” he says sombrely. He always knows what to say, empathetic to a fault.

“Uh,” a customer says, craning over the counter to see the two of you. “Sorry to interrupt, but can I get a refill on my coffee, please?”

That effectively kills the conversation, which is good. Keep yourself busy and distracted. By the time you see Yoongi next week, this crush will be dead and gone and you’ll be fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.

He’s dyed his hair.

It’s a Tuesday afternoon, the café is full of people, and Yoongi has dyed his hair.

You’d spent all of last Tuesday alternating between all-consuming guilt and embarrassment, Taehyung catching you with your head in your hands in one moment and furiously cleaning the steam wand the next, channeling your tumult of emotions into anything that will distract you.

It had worked. Mostly. You’ve had a week’s worth of time since, to get over this month’s long crush, your brain consistently reminding you that Yoongi is in a relationship, with someone who’s probably lovely and attractive and all around just wonderful (just like him). You remind yourself about this every time you find coffee grounds under your nails, or notice milk flecked on your apron, soured and off-white after a day of work; your life isn’t a meet-cute, and you’re not the cute barista who falls in love with the cute regular. You’re the tired barista who makes more cups of coffee in a day than most people probably drink in a year, and Yoongi is the cute regular who’s already in a long term relationship and comes to Paradise just because he likes the dark roast you use. That’s as far as it will go, because this is real life, and not a romance film or novel. (Even if you wished that it was.)

You’ve come to terms with it. Really, you have. But then he has to step into the coffee shop looking like that, his hair bleached so blond it almost looks white, silver hoops in his ears, and he’s still dressed in dark clothes but he’s wearing glasses, no, this isn’t a drill, Yoongi’s dyed his hair, he’s all light and dark, soft and sharp, and you want to crouch behind the counter again. Because he looks so good and of course he’s in a relationship because he’s hot, and you feel dumb for not having realised it sooner.

You can’t hide behind the counter, though. There’s a queue of people, all waiting for your attention and your time, and it’s still just you and Taehyung; none of your usual Christmas temps are back yet, still away at uni, hence the we’re hiring! posters that are up for all the customers to see (and mostly ignore). The seasons are changing and the weeks are passing and the really eager people are starting to think about Christmas shopping; you swear you don’t even need a calendar, able to trace how close you are to Christmas just based on the amount of foot traffic the coffee shop gets. You’re definitely hitting peak.

But it’s fine. You have this down to a fine art. You and Taehyung are both good on the till and scarily efficient at making drinks and plating food, dancing past each other with an ease that only comes with time spent working together and friendship alongside.

People aren’t ordering the weekly special as much, either, not today. You can’t blame them. Candy Cane Dreams is a white hot chocolate, flavoured with mint and coloured green, topped with whipped cream and sprinkles of candy cane bark and red and green drizzle too; it’s… pretty overwhelming. So it means you don’t have to take over for Taehyung from the bar, focusing on smiling at customers and soothing them after their wait, taking their orders and shuffling them along as quickly as you can. You keep a smile plastered on your face as Taehyung pulls espresso shots and grabs tea bags and heats milk, routine and familiar.

When Yoongi steps up to the counter, you’ve barely had time to mentally prepare yourself, so focused on serving everyone else in the queue; it feels like a slap to the face, a kick to the knees, but then you take one deep breath and exhale. Long, deep, slow, forcing air out of your lungs and thoughts out of your mind, and you smile.

You’ve been so careful up until this point, wanting to keep Yoongi happy, wary of misstepping—but he’s just a regular customer. You feel more confident, now, less worried about breaking this tenuous thing you thought you’d had; less worried about what you’re doing being construed as some weird, roundabout way of flirting, because. You know. He’s in a relationship, so it doesn’t matter either way. He’s definitely not interested. You can talk to him like you would anyone else.

So you say: “You dyed your hair.”

And, just like you suspected, Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered that you’ve broken your usual script. “Oh, yeah.” He reaches up, touches his head, as if he’d forgotten. “I did.”

“It looks nice,” you continue, because it does.

He’s smiling back at you. He looks pleased; maybe a little bashful, even, as surprising as that is. “Thanks,” he says, warm and genuine. (The tiny gremlin of a crush that’s still lurking in your soul lets out a wistful sigh.) “Can I get a large Americano and a—” he squints at the board— “large Candy Cane Dream, please?”

(One plus one is two, Yoongi and his other half, the sugar to his coffee.)

“Sure!” Your voice is bright. “I’m guessing the Marshmallow World went over well?”

There’s a brief beat of silence, but you don’t notice, too focused on typing Yoongi’s order into the till.

“Yeah, it was great,” he says after that moment of quiet, and you smile. Good. You’re glad they enjoyed it.

“I’m really happy to hear that,” you say, genuine and bright.

“What’s actually in the, ah, Candy Cane Dreams?” Yoongi asks, and you laugh, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“It’s horrendous,” you say in a low voice, as if you’re sharing a secret. “Have you ever seen green hot chocolate before?”

You’ve never spoken to Yoongi like this, easy and light, and it’s… nice. He gives no indication of surprise at your sudden friendliness after months of barely talking. If anything he looks pleased, and at one point he even gives you a smile you’ve never seen before, wide and wonderful, flashing his teeth and gums. (The crush gremlin rattles at your ribcage like prison bars, trying desperately to escape, but you don’t give it a chance.)

“Alright, let me just swap with the other barista, he’s still not gotten the Candy Cane Dreams recipe down.”

You hear a suspicious crunch as you make your way over to Taehyung. He turns to you with a guilty smile, edged with sugar, munching on shards of candy cane while his back is to the customers.

“You’re terrible,” you say affectionately. “Go take over on the till, I have a special to make.”

Taehyung glances over, sees Yoongi making his way down to the collection point. “Huh. Alright.”

The Candy Cane Dreams recipe might be a questionable one, but it’s definitely fun to make (watching the white hot chocolate turn green makes you feel like a kid all over again, mixing shampoos together in your bathroom and calling them potions), and maybe you’re overly generous with the candy cane bark, giving Yoongi’s beau more to nibble on and enjoy. It’s not Christmas yet but you’re already in a giving mood, so sue you.

“Here you go.” You slide the drinks towards him, the man busy reading one of the vacancy fliers, eyes flicking away from the poster when you appear. Your lips quirk up. “Looking for a job?”

You’re expecting a huff of a laugh, a small shake of the head, but he answers you seriously. “Not me, but I have a friend who is,” he says, reaching to take the tray.

You realise your hands are still curled around the cardboard; you quickly pull away so that there’s no chance your hands will brush. (You might have shoved your crush down as far as it will go, but you have to be careful with your weak, gooey heart.)

“We could do with any help, honestly. Your friend is more than welcome to apply.” You glance over at the queue, which is small but ever present, and you know it’ll only get worse as time goes on. “And, hey, if you ever decide for a change of pace from whatever it is you do, we’d be glad to have you, too.”

This gets a laugh from him, a warm burst of sound. (The gremlin points out that this is the first time you’ve heard him laugh, really laugh, a little raspy and a little quiet and altogether lovely; you beat the gremlin back with a stick.) “I’m better at drinking coffee than I am at making it,” Yoongi says, eyes soft with lingering amusement. “I’ll leave that to the experts.”

You might have gone off script, but the nod he gives you is his usual one, that familiar tilt of the head. “See you next week?” His eyes are dark, dark and deep, and it’s so hard not to fall into them, to fall all over again.

“See you next week,” you echo, hoping the smile you plaster on your face doesn’t look as forced as it feels, as you struggle once more. Yoongi is just nice, okay? He's just being nice, but still. He needs to let a girl breathe.

(He needs to let the gremlin of her crush wither away, instead of making it threaten to come back as strong as before, fuelled by his smile and his eyes and his everything.)

(... maybe you’re not as over this crush as you thought you were.)

It seems like the we’re hiring! posters actually worked.

“I’m Jungkook,” says the new starter, all crooked smiles and warm eyes and thighs so thick they threaten to split the trousers of the café’s uniform, ties of his apron emphasising his small waist.

(“Good lord,” Taehyung says faintly.)

It’s the last week of November and even though Jungkook is still learning the ropes, he’s a massive help, and you know he’ll be a lifesaver over Christmas. He’s eager, learns quickly, and gets stuck right in, material of his shirt straining across his shoulder blades when he rips a bag of coffee beans open with his bare hands, rather than having to use scissors like you or Taehyung.

Taehyung watches with stars in his eyes as Jungkook pours the beans into the grinder. You cover your smile by sipping at one of the espresso shots Jungkook has pulled—full-bodied and dark, rich in your mouth.

“This is really good, Jungkook,” you say. He looks over, eyes squeezing into a smile.

“Thought it would be,” he says, and you can’t help but huff a laugh into the tiny espresso cup. He’s cocky and competitive, telling you that he’d never made coffee before but he was going to do a better job than any of the other baristas here. He’s too endearing to come across as arrogant, though, and you have to admit that the coffee is good. (Not as good as yours or Taehyung’s, of course, but still. Pretty good.)

Taehyung coos at him and reaches out to shamelessly squeeze his bicep. “Jungkookie is a natural barista.”

Jungkook’s cocky smile turns equal parts pleased and flustered. You continue to sip at the espresso as Taehyung moons over him, then the bell above the door rings, and the mooning temporarily is put on hold. (Temporarily, because Taehyung continues to moon over him for the rest of the shift, insisting on doing the bulk of his training, which is fine by you.)

It’s the 1st of December tomorrow, so not only do you have to clean after the café is locked up, you have to put out all the Christmas decorations, too. But it’s more fun that it is work, the three of you dragging the tree out of the storage room and decorating it with a menagerie of tinsel and baubles; Jungkook lifts Taehyung so he can get the star on the tree, wrapping his arms around Taehyung’s waist and hoisting him up effortlessly, leaving your friend with a pleased smile on his face.

Jungkook is new, only on his second shift, but he’s slotted in so easily. He laughs at Taehyung when he wiggles his butt along to the Christmas songs you've put on to play, and he helps steady the stepladder as you string garlands of snowflakes on the ceiling, even if he doesn’t really need to.

He absently readjusts the reindeer headband Taehyung had unearthed from the storage room and proudly placed on his head. “Yoongi-hyung talks a lot about this place,” Jungkook comments, offhand.

If you’d heard this a few weeks ago, you probably would have fallen off the stepladder, inner gremlin grabbing your heart with both hands and squeezing tight-tight-tight. As it is you only pause for a moment, one of the larger snowflakes cradled in your palm, before you go back to your job of hanging them up.

“So you’re the friend he mentioned that needed a job,” you say.

“That’s me.” Jungkook grins, boyish and bright, and you laugh. “He really, really likes this café. Wouldn’t shut up about it, even before he told me that you were hiring.”

You can’t imagine Yoongi gushing about a café to his friends, but then again, he clearly is passionate about his coffee. Jungkook will know him better than you, having a real friendship rather than this patron-and-customer back-and-forth that you’ve had, so who are you to imagine what’s normal for Yoongi and what isn’t? You didn’t even know he was in a relationship, after all. You don’t know anything about the guy, really.

“Well, we appreciate his custom,” you say. “I know Yoongi is the one who actually comes in, but you can thank his other half, too, and I hope they enjoy their drinks as well.”

You’re too busy hanging the garland to see the way Jungkook’s face twists.

“Huh?”

“You know. Yoongi always comes in for his Americano and the weekly special for his partner,” you say.

You’re focused on stepping down the ladder without falling to see the expression on Jungkook’s face, nose scrunched and lips pursed, like there’s something he’s smelled that he really doesn’t like.

“Did he say that to you? That it was for someone else?”

“Hm?” You pause in grabbing another string of snowflakes, glancing up. “Oh, no, I just worked it out, you know? Yoongi is a religious coffee drinker, why else would he order something that’s basically hot sugar water? I think it’s cute,” you add, belatedly. “That he always comes in to grab something for them, too.”

(You wish you had someone to do that for you.)

There’s a beat of silence. Jungkook’s holding the stepladder, ready to move it, staring at you in a way that’s weirdly intense. “I see,” he says, like that isn’t weird or mysterious at all.

Then he drags the stepladder’s rubber feet across the floor with such a loud noise that Taehyung startles, bauble falling out of his hand and shattering. Jungkook, of course, profusely apologises and insists on cleaning it up—but not before making sure Taehyung is okay, of course, grabbing his hands and looking over them, as if the bauble had broken in his palms and not the floor.

Taehyung looks immensely pleased. You just smile quietly to yourself, roll your eyes lightly, and go back to hanging snowflakes as Jungkook speaks to Taehyung, soft and low.

You think your favourite thing about training a new starter is witnessing their reaction to the weekly special.

“So,” Jungkook says, slowly. “You put in the whole gingerbread man—gumdrops and icing and all—and just blend it?

“Yep.” Taehyung’s reply is cheery. “Straight in and whizz it all up.”

This week, it’s You Can’t Catch Me, I’m the Gingerbread Frappé which is a) probably the longest name known to mankind and b) probably the most questionable name known to mankind and c) who orders a frappé in December?

These thoughts are clearly playing across Jungkook’s face as Taehyung coaxes him to drop the gingerbread man into the blender, and you’re too busy enjoying the consternation on Jungkook’s face to notice someone stepping up to the counter—until they clear their throat, that is, and you all turn.

“Hi,” Yoongi says.

“Oh! Hi,” Taehyung says.

“Hyung! Look!” Jungkook says.

“Jungkook, wait—” you say.

“Whirr,” the lidless blender says.

It’s chaos. Frappé ends up everywhere, splattered over the counter and the floor, splashed across the wine-red aprons of both of your fellow baristas, as close to the blender as they were—saving you from any of the sugary fallout, unwitting human shields.

There’s a beat of silence, where you all stare at each other—

And then Yoongi laughs.

You’ve never seen Yoongi laugh this loudly, eyes squeezed so hard you wonder if he can even see, almost cackling as he laughs at Jungkook’s expression, joyful and loud and free. It’s another dimension to him, another new part you witness as Jungkook wipes gingerbread and ice off his face and Taehyung stares at the mess spattered across his hands and arms.

It makes you think of a paper crane. Yoongi is this unfinished thing in your mind, each new thing you learn about him another fold that you add, a flat sheet of paper turned into something entirely and wholly new. You wish that it weren’t so alluring, watching it come together, finding out more and more about this man you’ve technically known for months, but only recently started to get to know.

(You wish that it wasn’t so easy to keep falling for him.)

Once the counter is cleaned, both Jungkook and Taehyung retreat to replace their aprons, leaving you—once again—alone with Yoongi. He’d stopped laughing to tease Jungkook, to gently rib him, but you can see the smile that’s etched on his face, the echoes of mirth written across all his features.

“We usually train the baristas to keep the lid on, I swear,” you say, and Yoongi’s face splits into another smile.

“I was going to say that it’s an unorthodox blending technique,” and you can’t help but smile back at this, even if you’ve been trying not to laugh. Professionalism barely wins out, your lips trembling as you try to hold your giggling back, but Yoongi spots it anyway, looking pleased, like he’s accomplished something by getting you to (nearly) laugh.

You’re not laughing when you have to make one of the special frappés, though. You stare at the gingerbread man as you hold him above the blender, at his cheery iced face and his cute little buttons (not the gumdrop buttons), and brace yourself to drop him.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, and let him go, before quickly slamming the lid on top and turning the blender on so you don’t have to look at the betrayal you’ve just committed.

When you turn, Yoongi has an expression of sympathy on his face; for you or the gingerbread man, you can’t tell, but his face smooths the second he notices you looking at him, blinking innocently, as if there’s nothing unusual going on. It’s disarming, seeing that expression on his face, when you’d gotten used to seeing him act more reserved, but it’s cute.

(It is cute, whether you’re crushing on him or not. It’s just a statement of fact, okay? It’s nothing more than that. Even if that tiny gremlin of a crush still lives in your chest, scuffing its feet against your heart, reminding you of its presence when you least need it.)

(It digs its heels in when you put the frappé and Americano side by side, nestled snug in their cardboard tray. You slide it towards Yoongi and you’re a little too slow, fingers brushing his when he reaches for them; you’re surprised by how quickly he moves, how eager he seems to be reaching for his order, fingertips dragging across the back of your knuckles, and the gremlin kicks your heart, pulse rising just at that glancing touch. Even if you know it’s fruitless, useless, you can’t help but like Yoongi anyway.)

(“See you next week,” he says, and you can’t do anything but smile helplessly back.)

You normally love snow. You love waking up to the sight of it, pure and pristine white, adding another dimension to your familiar world—you love snowball fights and snowmen and snow angels, even if it all leaves you feeling cold, chilled right to the bone, nose running and hands freezing. The best part about winter is getting warm again, the season of throw blankets and hot water bottles, knitwear and scarves, tea and hot cocoa, all cosy and lovely and wonderful.

It’s a bit different when you have to work all day, though. You watch as the snow on the streets outside is threatened by the spray of salt and a thousand spinning car wheels and busy feet, ice turned to slush water; for now the snow is winning, though, and judging from the weather forecast, you think that’ll be the case for the rest of the day. You hope it lasts through to tomorrow, too; by the time you get home you’ll be too tired and it’ll be too dark to play in the snow, and it leaves you feeling disappointed and sad.

(Winter is lovely but it can be a hollow season, too, something about the leafless trees and fogged windows making everything feel like an empty dream.)

At least Paradise is warm, even if you’re cooped up inside, safe from the still-falling snow that keeps trying to turn the world into an untouched, frozen wonderland. It’s quiet in the coffee shop today. Only the bravest of people have ventured out into the not-a-blizzard-but-basically-a-blizzard, plastered against radiators and putting drinks to their faces, letting hot steam heat their cold cheeks.

It’s why you’re both surprised and unsurprised when Yoongi appears, bell chiming above his head as the door swings shut and he stamps his feet on the front mat, knocking snow off his boots. He somehow looks disgruntled and soft all at the same time, a royal blue beanie on his head forcing his fringe down to sit messily over his eyes, bundled up warm even if his face is scrunched up and his cheeks are red from the cold.

“I hate cold weather,” he tells you once he reaches the counter, gloves peeled off his fingers so he can reach for his wallet, his nose tinged pink as he sniffs.

You proffer him a box of tissues. “You look like you need it,” you say gently, and he smiles at you, a warm hearth in the cold winter.

“Thank you.” His voice is equally as gentle as yours, and something aches in your chest.

It’s just you behind the counter right now, so you take Yoongi’s order and make the drinks too—one large Americano and one large Latteggnog (a basic latte made with eggnog instead of milk, rich and thick and creamy), this week’s special: everyone’s favourite Christmas drink, but with a twist of coffee.

The quiet gives you time to think. Jungkook and Taehyung are out back, the older barista coming up with the most ridiculous excuses to take them away from the counter; you don’t mind that they’re taking the time ‘counting the coffee beans’, as deserted as the café is.

The café is practically empty and Yoongi hates the cold but here he is, venturing into the ice and snow to get this person he cares about the drink they want, because they’re that special to him. (You hope they realise how lucky they are.)

You’re normally okay being single. Don’t really think about it. But there’s something about today, this moment, that has you reflecting; Taehyung has this budding thing with Jungkook, Yoongi has this steady thing with his love, and here you are, by yourself, alone. It’s hard to summon up your usual energy, going through the motions as you make the drinks. You tilt your head forward, dusting nutmeg on the eggnog latte, watching the way the sprinkle of spice settles delicately and softly in the foam. No flourish, no flick of the wrist, not today.

(There’s two cups in front of you now, but later, when you’re home, there’s just going to be one. Yours. Yours, and no one else’s.)

(When you get home, you’re going to do what any self-respecting single person would do: order too much takeaway, rewatch The Good Place, get emotional over Eleanor and Chidi’s relationship—they’re so different but they’re so perfect for each other, why can’t you have that?—mope for a bit, rewatch The Princess Bride, get emotional over Westley and Buttercup—where’s your cute farmboy who saves you from an evil prince?—mope a bit more, before finally climbing into bed and hugging a pillow to your chest in the space of having someone else there. You know. Perfectly normal single person things.)

When you turn to Yoongi, drinks ready and raring to go, you’ve forced a Customer Service Smile onto your face. They say that just the act of smiling makes you happier, right? Maybe if you smile hard enough, you’ll cheer up, chasing away this sudden sadness that lingers in the back of your throat, scratching at your lungs like black ice.

“Here you go!” Your voice seems too loud for the quiet hush of the café, but you roll with it anyway. “Enjoy your drinks!”

Yoongi takes them from you, hands carefully cupped around the tray, but his eyes don’t leave your face. He doesn’t return your smile, as convincing as it should be (even Taehyung struggles to tell between your real smile and your work smile, sometimes); he stands for a moment, looking at you.

You think he’s about to say something when he clearly thinks better of it. He tilts his head, like he always does, but you’d swear his expression is tinged with concern. “Thanks,” he says. Pauses. “The roads are really icy. Get home safe, okay Y/n?”

Blink, blink. Your eyelashes flutter. You suddenly realise that he’s never said your name out loud, never had a need to, even if he must have known it all along from the badge on your chest. It sounds so good in his mouth, soft and safe.

“Oh,” you say, slow with surprise. “Thank you. I will. You, too.”

Yoongi nods again, as if to himself, before he turns to go.

He stops one more time before he goes. He stands at the open door, glances over his shoulder before he steps out, dark eyes meeting yours, as if checking that you’re still there, still tethered to the ground. Seems satisfied when he finds that you are. He gives you one last smile, all soft around the edges—that’s something you know intimately about Yoongi, that he’s soft through and through, even if he can look sharp, as cold as the ice outside—and then he goes, back into the falling snow to deliver a steaming sip of warmth into the hands of the person he loves.

(Your heart aches.)

It’s the week before Christmas. The whole world has that feeling it always does at this time of year—excited and bright, if a little frantic, the hanging lights in the city a backdrop to people’s last minute shopping, their breaths pluming out into the air as they rush around in the cold. The whole world feels full of life, that final push towards the end of the year; the hearth fire of Christmas before that weird in between before the new year, that held breath of potential, before the clock ticks over and the world is thrown into the next year.

Paradise has been busy. It’s like summer, only instead of sundresses and shorts, everyone is in knitwear and scarves, shivering as they wait to be served, desperate for a drink to warm them up, something to eat to fill their bellies. You spend more time in the coffee shop than you do at home, pulling overtime shifts to help your fellow baristas out—everyone thinks Christmas is a time of relaxation and coming together, but it doesn’t feel like that when you work in a customer facing job, oh no. It’s just non-stop busyness and being rushed off your feet.

(You’d barely had a chance to speak to Yoongi, café full when he’d stepped in, your pace frenetic as you’d danced around behind the counter with Taehyung and Jungkook; you’d slid his drinks towards him, his Americano and the special, and maybe your smile had looked more harrowed than you thought because he’d caught your hand and squeezed it.

“I hope you get a chance to rest over Christmas,” he’d said, concerned and sincere, as you’d stood in stunned silence, not expecting that almost-intimate touch, gentle against your skin.

“I will,” you’d said eventually. Yoongi had seemed to suddenly realise he was still touching you, fingers clasped around yours, and he’d withdrawn quickly, giving you a smile that felt like a whispered secret, before leaving you to deal with the ever-growing queue.)

Suffice to say, it’s been a long week, and you’re tired, and your feet hurt after all the running around you’ve been doing, and you just want to go home. You just need to finish the close, need to finish setting everything up for the open tomorrow, need to finish cleaning everything, and then you can get some sleep.

At least, that’s what you thought. Instead, you’re standing across from Jungkook and staring at him incredulously. You can feel a headache coming on.

“Wait.” You pinch the bridge of your nose. “What do you mean, we need to deliver some coffee?”

You don’t know if Jungkook is being deliberately obtuse, but he just stares at you as if you’re the one talking nonsense right now, and not him. “We have a customer order to deliver,” he says.

“Yes, I gathered that,” you say. “I just mean, why did no one tell me sooner?”

Paradise doesn’t do deliveries, as such. You cater for events, and you technically do deliveries then, but it’s less ‘one coffee to go’ and more ‘enough sandwiches and pastries and bagels and coffee to feed an entire office’. It’s not that you can’t bring someone their order directly, it’s more that you just… don’t.

“Taehyung took the order,” Jungkook says, as if that explains everything.

You pinch the bridge of your nose again. You can’t ask Tae about it, the other man having had to leave just as you’d been about to flip the sign to closed (‘Jimin says Tannie peed in his shoes again! I have to go clean it up! I’m so sorry, I swear I’ll cover a close for each of you next time!’), so it’s just you, and Jungkook, and the slip of paper on the counter between you. You’ve worked with Taehyung long enough to trust his judgement and his decisions, as inexplicable as they might seem sometimes, but you do think it’s weird that he’s taken this delivery on board.

“It’s not too far from here,” Jungkook adds, peering at the address on the paper. “It won’t take long.”

“We have to finish closing, Jungkook,” you say.

He shrugs casually, carelessly. “I’ll do it, I don’t mind. You can just do the delivery and then go home straight after, it’s whatever.”

“It’s not whatever,” you mumble. “Why can’t you deliver it?”

“You’re the senior barista, you’re a better representative of the brand,” he says, and you have no idea where he pulled that from. (You blame Jimin. You know they’ve had shifts together, and Jimin is too smooth-talking for his own good.)

As much as you want to argue, you can’t help but cave, because the prospect of getting home early is one that you’re not about to sniff at. (You’d worry that Jungkook would get home late, what with the amount of prep he still needs to do for tomorrow, but you half suspect that Taehyung will reappear at some point, anyway.) You’re too tired to want to argue. “I just want to say this is a one off, and normally we cater for events, we’re not really a delivery service, okay?”

“Duly noted.”

It’s a simple enough order, anyway—it’s just two drinks. The first is a large quad shot latte with caramel and toffee syrup, extra whipped cream and cinnamon on top (something you’d definitely order, you think, indulgent and milky and with enough caffeine to kick you up the ass). Jungkook dutifully cleans as you start the second drink. The special this week is far, far less sweet than normal; a Rudolph the Red-eyed Reindeer: a simple red eye with a pinch of holiday spice, coffee with an extra espresso shot and topped with cinnamon and nutmeg. You take in a deep breath, swallowing down the warm smell and letting it flow through you before you double check the details on the note.

It takes you a second as you squint at the address, wondering why it looks familiar—and then you pause. This is Yoongi’s office, you think to yourself, and it feels a little like there’s an apricot pit sitting heavy in your stomach, heavy and hard. Paradise had catered a breakfast for them last week, and it hadn’t been on your shift and so you hadn’t gone, but—you’d heard enough about it from Jimin, the type who gets to know everyone and everything the second he walks in the door. You’d heard about the team that Yoongi manages, found out that Yoongi works in music, in artist and repertoire, and when you’d had the chance to Google exactly what that meant, you’d been bowled over. He has such a complex, high skilled job, and here you are, struggling to get a job with your degree, hence the barista thing. (Thanks, economy.)

You hastily shuffle past the address, trying to ward off your sudden sense of inadequacy, focusing on the name instead. What sort of name is Suga? you think to yourself, and then shrug. Probably one of the workers had enjoyed the breakfast the other week and was still hanging around before going on holiday for Christmas, or something.

“Alright, I’m off.” You’re ready to advance into the cold outside: coat on, scarf looped around your neck and hat secure on your head, cardboard tray of drinks clutched in your hands. “If you need help closing, just call me and I’ll come back, okay?”

“I won’t, but, thanks,” Jungkook says, equal parts self-assured and reassuring. “Don’t fall on your ass!”

It is icy outside, the entire world a winter wonderland, beautiful but cold and daylight long gone; snow drifts slowly from the sky above, dusting your shoulders and the top of your hat, flakes caught so softly by the weave of your clothes. It’s the kind of day that’s perfect spent indoors, curled up with the people you love, warmed through and through—and here you are, picking your way across the pavement slush to deliver a coffee to someone. (You’re not even getting paid for this.)

At least it’s not too far, really, just a few blocks away. The building is small, which is a plus, because it means you won’t have multitudes of rooms and offices to trawl past to get to your destination. The receptionist is more than helpful, too, when you say that you have a delivery for Suga; she gives you exactly directions and then she smiles at you, pleasant and pretty and lovely, and that gremlin that’s still clinging desperately onto your feelings for Yoongi whispers: what if this is Yoongi’s girlfriend? She’s beautiful.

Shut up, you think, before smiling back and thanking her, and heading on your way.

This close to Christmas you’d think that the building would be almost empty, but you’d be wrong. It’s not a buzzing hive of activity but there are still people walking around, speaking behind closed doors or laughing through open ones, decorations and tinsel hanging from the ceiling. Up ahead you see a someone come out of a room, shutting the door behind them before they walk in your direction. It’s a man who looks like he’s just stepped off the cover of a fashion magazine and as you pass in the corridor he pauses, raising his eyebrows at you. Not suspicious, just surprised.

“Uh, I have a coffee for Suga,” you say without prompting, as if he was about to accuse you of some sort of nefarious scheme and your coffee delivery is the only thing saving you from that.

“Oh,” mister-model-handsome says, suddenly smiling widely, like this is all perfectly normal and not weird at all. He’s got some of the poutiest lips you’ve ever seen. “You’re nearly there, he’s just down the corridor and on the right. Have fun!”

“Uh, you too?” you reply. (Is he Yoongi’s boyfriend? He’s tall and broad shouldered and incredibly attractive, with the type of smile that makes people’s hearts race, and Yoongi definitely deserves someone like that.)

Your destination seems to be the office the (probably) model just came out of. You look around the corridor, which seems to be deserted now, the hubbub of people elsewhere in the building. You knock quietly, not wanting to disturb the hush that’s filled the air around you.

A beat. Then: “Come in,” someone says, voice muffled through the door.

It swings open easily at your touch. You stand on the threshold, mouth open around the announcement of your delivery when the words die on your lips.

Yoongi’s there, sitting behind a desk and his head bowed as he scribbles something in a notebook. He doesn’t look up. “Shut the door,” he says. Dumbstruck, you do just that, and it’s not until the door’s quietly clicked shut that he starts to raise his head. “Hyung, I already said that I don’t need to eat—”

And then he spots you standing there.

He stops mid-sentence, mouth open, eyes widening. He looks as shocked as you feel, utterly taken aback and agog, and even now you can’t help but notice how good he looks. He’s in a black button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow and top button undone, revealing the pale skin of his collarbones. It’s another juxtaposition, the Yoongi that you’re familiar with (an aura of effortless authority and attractiveness) in a place you don’t know at all, completely professional, his desk neat and the entire space put together. There’s a tastefully decorated tree in the corner but it doesn’t throw off the balance of the room at all.

“Uh.” You cough lightly. “I have… a delivery… for Suga?”

Yoongi stares at you.

“Is this… not the right room? I can go,” you mumble, gesturing over your shoulder with a thumb.

This seems to snap Yoongi out of whatever thoughts he was having as he shakes his head. “No, this is… Suga’s office,” he says. “I just didn’t order any coffee.”

You open your mouth. Shut your mouth. You don’t have an Americano on the tray, but he’d probably like the red eye, coffee with extra coffee, no sugar or cream. Just a little pinch of spice.

“Maybe it was a surprise, or something? Couples get each other gifts all the time.”

Yoongi’s lips quirk up. “I’m not really the type that gets surprised with gifts.”

Something about this strikes a discordant note in you. He’s always delivering gifts of coffee—he deserves those expressions of love returned to him. You can’t help but say as such.

“You’re always giving gifts, though,” you say. “Those weekly specials. I wouldn’t be surprised if your other half is returning the favour.”

Blink, blink. He looks perplexed. “I don’t have an other half?”

Your mouth opens again. “Uh,” you say eloquently. “What?”

“I… don’t have an other half? I’m… single?”

“You’re…” Your face scrunches up, wrinkled in confusion. What? He’s… what? “But you always buy two drinks?”

Silence. Then: “I… the Americano is for me,” he says. “I usually just pour the special away. I only started ordering them because you got so excited talking about them and making them. I never planned on drinking them.”

Your mouth falls open, soft around a quiet breath, a soft oh. “You—wait. You ordered them because I got excited about them?”

Yoongi’s eyes are so dark, so gentle; melted chocolate, warm. “You started to talk to me more, after the first time I did,” he says, and you know you had. Because you thought it was safer to talk to him, though you were secure in the knowledge he wasn’t single—but he is single. “So I kept doing it, because I wanted to talk more to you. I thought you knew? And that’s why you started having real conversations with me.”

You’re frozen in place, eyes as big as dinner plates. Min Yoongi, your futile crush, who looks as sharp as a knife but is as sweet as spun candyfloss, has been coming back week after week—for you. He’s not in a relationship, and he’s been flirting with you.

Or at least he thought he had been. You, however, hadn’t even realised.

“I was going to ask you on a date after Christmas,” he continues, calm and steady, as if your brain isn’t melting. He’s still sitting behind his desk, and there’s something about his tousled hair and bared lower arms—watch on one wrist and a few bracelets on the other—that has your heart pounding, that casual air somehow not at odds at the weight of the surroundings. Because the world is a backdrop to Yoongi, and he makes it work.

“What the fuck,” you say. You realise you’ve never sworn in front of him when something flickers in his eyes; not a bad flicker, no. Definitely not. “I thought you were taken.”

“I’m very single,” he says lightly, belying the weight behind the words. And then his eyes drop to your hands. “You said you have a coffee for me?”

Which leads to this: Yoongi, in his chair, you, leaning against his desk. He’s taken the red eye (of course) while you sip at the latte, relishing the punch of espresso, the flavour of the syrups.

You’re both staring at each other as you drink, air in the room growing thicker by the moment, when Yoongi breaks the silence. “This is probably the only weekly special I’d actually want to drink.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Black coffee with more espresso? That’s you all over,” you say. “The other specials aren’t so bad, though. I think you just need to give sweet drinks a chance.”

You’re speaking without thinking, but the second those words leave your mouth, the air turns electric. Yoongi’s still staring at you, unwavering and intent, and everything inside you is melting, leaving you flushed and hot. The smile hasn’t left his face, which had been warm but it’s changed, evolved, edged with something sharper.

“If you say so,” he says. His eyes are on your lips. “Let me try?”

His fingers are so gentle on your face, hands cupping your jaw as he tilts your head down. All your thoughts leave you. There’s nothing in your mind but Yoongi, his warm hands and dark eyes, the heat of his body so close to yours, his mouth; you can’t help but look down, tracing the shape of his lips with your gaze, a small soft pout that’s so at odds with the weight of his intensity.

When he kisses you, it’s featherlight. Barely the softest of pressures, the potential of something more—and then he pulls you in deeper, and there it is, that heat flickering in your stomach jumping into a full fire. The kiss turns hot and wet as he licks the flavour of caramel and toffee syrup out of your mouth, and he tastes like coffee, dark and bitter; you make a noise against his lips and he swallows it down, pulls you closer.

You’re straddling his knees, a little awkward and cramped in his office chair, but you don’t care. You’ve been wanting to kiss Yoongi for so long, even when you felt like you shouldn’t, thought about his dark eyes and pink mouth, the curve of his lips, the paleness of his hands; a steadying presence around your waist, holding you in place.

When you pull apart, Yoongi’s lips are flushed, kiss swollen. It looks good on him. Really good on him.

“I’ve thought about that more than I’d like to admit,” he says, and you can’t help but feel warmed by it, the realisation that you’ve wanted to kiss him but he’s wanted to kiss you, too.

“This really isn’t comfortable,” you say, wriggling a little—your ass is starting to go numb, sat on Yoongi’s knees—and Yoongi sucks in a quick breath at the way you’re all but squirming in his lap, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Oh, you think.

When you move away, he lets you go without protest, hands sliding off your waist. It’s not until you fall to your knees that Yoongi realises what you’re doing, his eyes widening.

“Y/n,” he breathes. “You don’t have to—”

“Please, Yoongi, I’ve wanted to do this for months,” you say. Maybe it was a little crass to start with, wanting to get on your knees for a man you barely knew just because he was hot and polite to you, but now you know he wants you back. You’re not about to let this opportunity pass you by, staring up at him between his knees, hands braced on his thighs. “But if you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”

He looks torn, just for a second, eyes darting away from your face and to the door. It’s shut, but it’s not locked, and though the building is quiet there’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk in at any second.

Without thinking, you lick your lips. Yoongi’s eyes flicker back at the motion, watching how your tongue moves, and you can see how he crumbles.

“I don’t want you to stop,” he says, and you dig your nails into his trousers, electricity shooting through you.

“You’ll have to keep your voice down,” you warn, and reach for his zipper.

It’s a struggle for him, you can tell. He’s already biting his lip by the time you’ve tugged his trousers and boxers down, hardening under your grasp, and you knew his dick would be as pretty as the rest of him. You don’t have the luxury of worshipping him the way you want to, acutely aware of the fact you’re in his office, but it doesn’t mean you’re not going to make Yoongi feel good. It’s dirty and messy, the way you suck his cock into your mouth lewd and wet, lavishing attention on the most sensitive parts; his hips jump as you circle the head with your tongue and jerk the rest of his length with a hand.

Everything’s sloppy with spit and precum and Yoongi’s biting off curses, hand tightening in your hair as you take in as much of him as you can, relaxing your throat and swallowing him down, down, down. When you look up at him through your lashes he looks wrecked, the paleness of his skin flushed pink, and you can’t wait to see that all over. Can’t wait to see Yoongi entirely bare in front of you, when you have the luxury of time and pleasure.

But there’s something about this, too, that has your heart racing, cunt throbbing. You’re running your spit slick lips down the side of his shaft, tonguing the throb of the vein there, when you hear footsteps nearby, muffled through the door. It doesn’t sound like they’re coming in this direction and Yoongi seems almost entirely lost to the feeling of your mouth on him, but you flick your tongue across the spot where the head of his cock meets the shaft and he bows forward, swallowing down the noise that threatened to spill from his lips. He’s so fucking hot like this, falling apart under your hands and mouth, and you know he’ll give as good as he gets.

“Gonna cum,” he rasps. You smile up at him before taking his cock back into your mouth, jerking him off hard and fast as you lick and suck—and when he cums it’s with a noisy exhale of breath, a muffled groan, and even as you’re swallowing down his cum and mouthing at him until he winces with oversensitivity, you’re imagining what he sounds like when he doesn’t have to be quiet.

He’s not shy, either. You’ve barely tucked him back in when he’s reaching for you, kissing you. There’s no taste of coffee any more and you shiver, molten and boneless at the way his tongue presses into your mouth.

“Still want to take me on a date?”

You’re being cheeky, voice light as you joke, but Yoongi’s responding look is equal parts serious and affectionate. He sweeps a thumb over your cheekbone and you relax into his hands, feeling like a cat that got the cream. Here you are, on your knees in his office, the glittering lights of his Christmas tree thrown across your hair and skin, warmed by the touch of a man you’ve wanted for months but never thought you would get.

“Of course,” he murmurs, gentle-gentle-gentle, as if you hadn’t just sucked his soul through his dick—and you love that about him, love his inherent soft core, his big heart. You might not know him as well as you’d like—not yet—but you already know that much about him. “I owe you a present, too.”

Your face scrunches. “What, because I gave you a blowjob?”

At this he laughs, mouth split wide and gums on show as his whole body shakes with the intensity of it. “No, because you brought me a coffee,” he says. He still has your cheek cupped in his hand, palm warm against your skin. “But if you want to say it’s because of the blowjob as well, then sure.”

“There’s plenty more where that came from.” You smile at him, gentle expression at odds with the meaning behind the words and your position—still on your knees.

You don’t know if they ache when you stand, because Yoongi is kissing you again, distracting you. And it’s easy, this back and forth you have, comfortable as you finish the (now lukewarm) coffees and get ready to go, because Yoongi insists on walking you home. Because he’s a gentleman, your gentleman, and he even holds the door open for you.

You’re not sure if you can reach for his hand, if that would be too forward in his place of work, if he doesn’t want to when this thing between you is so tentative and new. But you’re barely halfway down the corridor when he stops you with a gentle hand on your arm; when you look over, he’s smiling at you, and then tilts his chin up.

“Oh!” You stare at the huge bundle of mistletoe above you, tied with red ribbon and messily taped to the ceiling. It brings a smile to your face. “Oh, how cute.”

The hand on your arm shifts down. Yoongi weaves his fingers with yours.

“You know about the tradition, right?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, and it’s not just from the lights from the ceiling above, turning his dark eyes into warm chocolate, deep brown. “Kissing under the mistletoe?”

You can’t help but blink, surprised at his sweetness, his forwardness. There’s nothing to say that someone couldn’t walk by right now, to see the two of you hand in hand under the mistletoe, but Yoongi doesn’t care at all. He’s staring at you like you’re the only other person in the world, and you feel like a fountain of champagne is bubbling inside you, heady and sparkling and light.

“I think I’ve heard of it,” you say, and he’s still smiling, a small thing, just for you. “Do you think you can show me?”

And he does, with his hand in yours, your lips against his, and up above, the mistletoe sparkles.

(Your phone rings. Caller ID says it’s Taehyung, but when you pick up, he’s not the one who speaks.

“So.” Jungkook sounds knowing, his voice bordering on smug. “How did the delivery go?”

In the background you can hear someone crowding close, put it on speaker, Kookie, I want to hear too, and you can’t help but smile at Taehyung’s eagerness.

“Good,” you say. Yoongi’s palm is warm against yours and you swing your joint hands together, looking at him, entranced by the way the snowflakes dust his eyelashes. The sky above is dark and the wind around you is cold, but the man beside is so bright and warm. You feel wrapped up in it. “Yoongi says he’s going to kill you, by the way.”

“He won’t,” Jungkook says cheerfully, loud enough that Yoongi can hear. He looks fond.

“Well, tell Taehyung I’m going to kick his ass for lying about Tannie peeing on Jimin’s shoes,” you say.

“You won’t,” Taehyung says, equally as cheerful, and you can’t help but smile.

“No, I won’t,” you say.

You think about the seasons. You think about the man walking beside you; the man who says he hates cold weather, but has kept his gloves off so he can feel your hand against his. The man who came out in the snow to order a drink, just to make you smile. The man who looks like winter but feels like spring, something cold bursting into potential, new life.

In the depth of winter, under the snow and twinkling Christmas lights above, Yoongi squeezes your hand.)

taglist: @beyoncesdragon @vensulove

#btswritingcafe #btswriterscollective #magicshopnet #houseofddaeng #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts #yoongi au #bts au #yoongi #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #yoongi fanfic #bts fanfic #joy.masterlist #PLEASE feel free to message me with any typos or whatever and I'll get on those when I have a chance

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aellynera · 3 years

Note

Hi love! Can you do a Oscar Isaac x reader where they do the buzzfeed video reading thirst tweets and he gets jealous of the tweets? Thank you so much, I love your page. ❤️

Hello lovely Nonnie! I’m sorry this took so long, but I finally got super inspired to finish it. It’s not Oscar Isaac per se (I don’t do RPF) but I thought about it a bit and I was like...but I will do a Llewyn AU. So that’s what I did, and here it is, and I hope you and whoever else reads it, enjoys it! (note: most of the tweets came from various Thirst Tweet videos on YouTube, but there are a couple I just made up.)

I Want Llewyn Davis to Blank Me in the Blank (Llewyn Davis x F!Reader, Modern AU)

Word Count: 1300(ish)

Warnings: Some language, sexual references but nothing graphic or explicit just suggestive, floof.

- Llewyn isn’t sure what a BuzzFeed is, and to be honest, he’s not even sure what the hell a thirst tweet is.

- You’re always teasing him that, if the world suddenly loses all technology tomorrow and the internet and social media disappear, he’ll be the only one who will still be able to function, and he’ll probably be a lot happier.

- You’re not wrong.

- He hates social media. Doesn’t understand what the point is really, why so many people are obsessed with it. Yeah, he technically has official accounts on all the major platforms, mainly because you insisted and set them up. They’re just placeholders and he never uses them.

- The only reason he’s even here to do this media gig is because you asked, all wide puppy-dog eyes and gnawed-on bottom lip, and he knows that you know he can’t say no to that.

- Not that he ever really wants to say no to you, but sometimes...

- Now he’s almost one hundred percent certain he regrets it.

- You’ve tried explaining the concept to him, probably like twenty-some times, and you’re trying again now, but as you lead him into the studio it pretty much goes in one ear and out the other.

- People don’t know you’re together, so he’s annoyed by that on top of everything else, because he can’t call you any of the usual pet names that roll off his tongue like melted butter.

- No angel. No baby. No sweetheart. It fucking sucks.

- "It’s not a serious thing, Llewyn. Just...fake it till you make it. Make jokes about it, it’ll be fine,” you tell him.

- You sit side by side at a little table, a couple feet apart, and a production assistant put a little metal bucket in front of each of you.

- Llewyn gives you a weird look. You just shake your head and smile this cute little smile that he does his level best to ignore because, well, you’re in public and nobody knows.

- Then the tweets come out of the buckets.

- Things I requite in a man: five nine, pisces, grammy nominated, llewyn davis. That’s all i ever need.

- Why is Llewyn Davis so attractive? He’s like 30 years older than me and I’m a lesbian but he still gets me hot and bothered.

- I cannot believe Llewyn Davis invented being sexy.

- Llewyn Davis got thicc lips and thicc hips

- I want Llewyn Davis to be my daddy but not in the fatherly kind of way.

- There’s a lot more, but honestly, they all sort of blend together.

- He manages to laugh them off and make some clever comments but he shoots you a look that’s part confusion, part disdain, and really annoyed. You just shrug.

- But then the tweets start coming out of your bucket, and Llewyn’s brain instantly regains its laser-focus.

- First, because everyone calls you by your online handle, which drives the nail further into Llewyn’s coffin because of his inability to actually call you cute names night now.

- Secondly, who do these assholes think they are, talking about his girl like this?

- Hello? Maker? Can we talk about how you put the heavens in AngelEyes’s eyes, because it’s starting to cause some serious problems over here. Kthx.

- I want to lick cherry-flavored jello off AngelEyes fingers, why does life have to be so unfair?

- Sit on my face and suffocate me, AngelEyes.

- AngelEyes’s boobs are a gift from whatever deity you choose to believe in, and if you’re an atheist, well, then more tits for me.

- I’m pretty sure AngelEyes could get all my children out of me, and I’m willing to take that challenge.

- Llewyn’s kind of tuned out, trying not to pay any attention to all the dirty things the world wants to do to you, but his head finally snaps up and his arm does too and his little metal bucket goes crashing to the floor.

- You (and everyone else in the studio) just stare at him.

- “Could I...” he clears his throat, “could I speak to you, for just a minute? Like, out in the hall?”

- “Okay?” you say slowly, but stand up and head towards the door, with him right behind you.

- The door barely has a change to swing shut behind you before Llewyn is on you, frantically pressing his lips to yours in a soul-sucking kiss.

- “Llewyn, what are you doing?” you hiss when you finally break away for air.

- It took quite a few minutes before you absolutely needed that break and you’re fairly certain people are going to come looking for you any second because you have to be taking a lot longer to “talk” than Llewyn implied.

- “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to sit there and pretend all those tweets are okay”

- He’s pressing you against the wall and you can’t help the slightly impish smile that comes to your face. “I have a pretty good idea.”

- Llewyn glares through narrowed eyes. “This isn’t funny, AngelEyes.”

- “I was listening to all the ones people said about you too. Don’t get so worked up, Llewyn, it’s all in good fun.”

- Llewyn snorts.

- “Baby, are you...jealous?” You raise a brow at him.

- “I have half a mind to just take you up against this wall, right now.”

- “You’re jealous.”

- His mouth is suddenly a breath away from yours again, and he murmurs, “I just want people to know that you’re mine. And to know that I’m yours. And to never read a single thirst tweet ever again in my entire life,” before his desperate lips are back on yours.

- This time, he pulls out of the kiss first and you rest your head on his shoulder and try to catch your breath again.

- He’s checking something on his phone - replying to a text from his manager Snap or his sister, maybe, you’re only vaguely aware that he’s actually on his phone at all.

- But then you feel your own phone vibrate in your pocket.

- You pull it out and immediately almost drop it.

- “Llewyn. You...you didn’t.”

- Llewyn looks at you with a completely innocent face. He slides his phone back in his pocket and hooks a thumb towards the door. “I don’t know what you mean, sweetheart. Come on, we should probably get back in there before they send a search party.”

- You barely have time to process the notification that Llewyn Davis (@ folksingerwithacatofficial) has made his first tweet! Check it out! and even less time to actually read it before Llewyn disappears through the door and you have to follow.

- But it there was a picture - you didn’t even know Llewyn knew how to do that. And if he had an extra minute, he’d be inordinately proud of himself.

- It’s from a friend’s rooftop party a couple weeks ago. You’re behind him with your arms around his shoulders, kissing his cheek, and he has his eyes closed and a happy, content little smile on his face.

- There’s no way anyone’s going to look at it and be like, ‘oh they’re just friends.’ But the caption definitely clears it up.

- Never been happier than I am w/AngelEyes by my side. Aren’t enough words to say how much I love you, baby. Maybe I’ll just write you a song or ten.

- You head back into the studio, about to shove your phone back in your pocket, your face burning hotter than the sun, but it vibrates again and you see the corners of Llewyn lips turn up, even though he’s pointedly not looking at you.

- There’s another tweet.

- Now go get some water y’all and stop talking about my girlfriend’s tits. At least give her ass the credit it deserves too.

- Llewyn pretends not to notice when, five minutes later, everyone’s phones and laptops and tablets start blowing up with notifications and reactions. He just pulls you into his lap and kisses you softly on the cheek.

Everything Taglist: @anetteaneta @autumnleaves1991-blog @be-the-spark-flyboy @damerondjarin @deeandbobbymcgee @huxdameron @iflostreturntobudcooper @itspdameronthings @jitterbugs927 @leto-duke @littlebopper96 @reysflyboy @rosemarysbaby13 @spider-starry @veuliee @waatermelon-sugaar @woakiees @writefightandflightclub @yourbucky084

Llewyn Taglist: @santiagogarcia

>>join my taglist here<<

#allison answers #lovely anon #llewyn davis #llewyn davis blurb #llewyn davis x reader #llewyn davis x you #inside llewyn davis blurb #inside llewyn davis modern au #my writing #oscar isaac characters

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snelbz · 3 years

Text

Life As We Know It {Chapter 9}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelby’s blogs! >> @snelbz

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

A/N: SURPRISE. Enjoy this chapter a day early. I had my days wrong and legit thought it was Thursday, but since it was ready…. Y’all get to enjoy the spoils of my frazzled brain. 😘

Nesta waited with Nyx in the waiting room of the pediatric office.

His rash didn’t seem to be bothering him much, but she wanted to get ahead of it before it became a problem. He was absolutely enamored with the TV playing a bright children’s show in the corner, and Nesta couldn’t help but smile down at him as she checked her email.

The usual stuff greeted her, some open catering order invoices for the restaurant, a few wayward resumes from high school kids that had managed to get her personal email, and, of course, spam.

“Nyx?”

Nesta’s head shot up, and Nyx began looking around, wondering who had called his name. Nesta was instantly on her feet, pushing Nyx’s stroller toward the door that the nurse held open.

She smiled. “Hello, Nyx.”

Nyx babbled in greeting.

The nurse chuckled. “Such a cute little guy. You’re Nesta, I assume?”

“I am,” Nesta confirmed. “I’ve not been here before. It’s a nice office.”

The small talk went on. Nesta had never been a fan of small talk, of polite pleasantries.

It just made her feel awkward.

Nyx didn’t seem to mind. He just kept babbling and babbling and babbling, without a care in the world.

The nurse led them into a room and she checked Nyx’s height and weight before telling them that the doctor would be there shortly.

Nesta had picked Nyx up, looking around at all the educational posters on the walls, when a quick knock sounded on the door and a man cracked open the door.

Nesta blinked once as he stepped inside, not expecting the tall, muscled man that appeared in front of her.

“You must be Nesta,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Dr. Kamaras.”

This man was Nyx’s pediatrician? She had known that Nyx’s doctor was male, Feyre had mentioned him in some stories a few times, but Nesta had always pictured an elderly man.

Not this sculpted, handsome man, who could easily graced the cover of one of the ridiculous smutty books she kept well hidden in her bedroom.

She shook his hand, finally remembering how to speak. “Yes, I am, it’s nice to meet you.”

Very nice to meet you, she added in her head.

His face sombered. “I was very sorry to hear about Rhys and Feyre. They were great people.”

And just like that, Nesta was back on earth, holding her sister’s son in her arms, standing where her sister should have been. She tried to keep her smiling from dimming, but she cleared her throat. “Thank you. It’s…been an adjustment.”

As if they both remembered why they were here, Dr. Karamas blinked and said, “Yes, Nyx, right. You told the nurse he has a rash of some sort?”

“It’s just a diaper rash but it seems to be getting infected,” Nesta explained. “I’ve tried a few different things but nothing seems to be working.”

“Ah,” he said, nodding. “Well, let’s take a look.”

Dr. Karamas took one glance and whistled. “Definitely infected. I’m going to give you a steroid cream. Put it on after every diaper change. It should clear up within the week.”

Nesta let loose a breath. “Oh, great, thank you.”

“Absolutely,” he smiled.

He had a nice smile.

He scribbled something down on his clipboard, signed it, and handed it to Nesta. “The number on the bottom is my office number. If you have any other concerns, no matter how small, give it a call.”

Nesta looked at Nyx’s prescription and the number that was beneath it, along with his name.

Balthazar Karamas.

“Thank you, Dr. Karamas,” Nesta said, and she meant it. She was still new at this, and every little medical thing concerned her.

If it wasn’t normal, she was freaking the fuck out.

“Bal, please,” he said, taking her hand again, shaking it. At the look on her face, he added, “I work with kids. They do better on a familiar name basis than with titles like doctor and mister.”

She nodded, smiling. “Bal, then.”

Nesta was getting Nyx resituated in his stroller in the waiting room, about to head back out into the bright sunlight, when she felt someone approach. She wasn’t expecting to find Balthazar standing a few feet away. She quickly checked the stroller, making sure she had her purse, the diaper bag, and, of course, Nyx himself. “Did I forget something?” She asked, finding everything exactly where it was supposed to be.

“No, no, it’s not that,” he said, pausing in front of her. “I just…can’t shake the feeling that I know you from somewhere.”

It was strange, since Nesta felt the same way.

“You’re not Illyrian,” he said, and it wasn’t a question, nor was it rude. Just an assumption. She only knew of a few other Illyrians in the area, and Balthazar definitely had the same coloring as Cassian and Az. And Rhys used to have. She, pale skinned and blue eyed, certainly did not.

“I’m not,” she said, at last.

Bal chuckled.

That smile, yet again, had her toes curling.

“Interesting,” he said, that smile remaining. “Well, maybe we can figure out just where we’ve run into each other before...over lunch this weekend?”

Nesta blinked. A date?

“Not a date,” he said, quickly, reading her mind. “I would never ask the aunt of my patient on a date. That would be incredibly unprofessional.” Nesta laughed. “Just…two acquaintances figuring out where they were previously acquainted.”

“Lunch sounds nice,” Nesta said, unable to shake her own smile. “Saturday, then?”

“Saturday,” Bal agreed.

They set up a time and place and then Nesta was out the door.

Cassian’s day had been as long as it was the day before. It seemed that the teenagers visiting Velaris had gotten the message from their friends that Cassian’s bar was checking every single ID of every single drink that was ordered. So instead of being slammed and busy and frustrated the whole day, he had been bored out of his mind.

He’d gone through his inventory sheets twice, ordering anything they might remotely run out of in the next few weeks.

It didn’t help that Kallias had the day off, covering the evening shift tonight, leaving him alone with his thoughts all day.

And those thoughts constantly reminded him that he’d been an absolute dick to Nesta the night before.

As he drove home, he contemplated the apology he needed to make.

Although Cassian believed his intentions were typically good, apologizing wasn’t one of his strengths. He ran through what he’d say a hundred times, had come up with an unbearable amount of ways in which he could apologize, but everything he thought of wasn’t good enough.

He knew Nesta well enough to know when she would laugh in his face.

He’d come up with about fifteen different scenarios of how this could go by the time he pulled into the driveway, parking next to her little car. He took a deep breath before unlocking the front door and letting himself in.

The house was quiet, neither Nesta or Nyx were anywhere to be found. It was barely six-thirty, but he knew Nesta was taking Nyx to the doctor earlier in the day, which may have tired him out so thoroughly that he was already down for the night. A peek into his cracked bedroom door confirmed it, his little hand curled next his face as he slept.

When he finally tracked down Nesta, on the back patio, her feet propped up in a lounge chair, he definitely hadn’t expected to find her with a bottle of wine. Or what was left of it, at least.

The mostly empty bottle of wine sat next to the baby monitor.

He cleared his throat, announcing his presence.

Nesta’s sigh was the only acknowledgement she showed.

“Everything alright?” He asked.

She shrugged and took a sip from her glass.

“Bad day?” He continued.

She shrugged again.

“Is this the silent treatment?” He asked.

“I assume you’d know,” she said.

Cassian began rubbing his temples. “Look, Nesta-.”

“I’m a little busy if you don’t mind,” she continued. “I prefer to relax alone.”

“This is my house, too,” he said, shutting the sliding door behind him as he made his way onto the patio. “What if I want to sit out here with you?”

“Then I’d suggest continuing the silence,” she said, not looking at him, her face tilting back up to the sky, where it had been when he’d come outside.

So he sat down on a nearby lounge chair, and didn’t say a word.

Or he tried, but he didn’t last five minutes. The words that had building inside him all day needed to come out. He’d rehearsed different things he wanted to say, with reasons for why he was such an asshole, and promises to try and be better from now on. But as he looked over at her, the starlight on her face, all he could get out was, “I’m sorry.”

For a moment, Nesta said nothing. “About?”

“The way I acted last night,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the lawn. “It was uncalled for, and I’m sorry.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, draining her glass.

Cassian’s eyes shot her direction. “I’m trying to apologize. You can at least accept my apology so we can move on.”

“Apologies mean nothing,” Nesta said, shrugging. “Words are meaningless.”

“Not mine,” Cassian argued. “I mean what I say.”

“Then you meant what you said last night?” Nesta pushed.

Cassian’s lips snapped shut and his jaw hardened. “No.”

“So, you’re a liar, then?” Nesta asked.

He groaned in frustration. “You’re infuriating.”

She didn’t deign to reply to that.

He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I was an asshole last night. I was…embarrassed about how you found me the night before. I don’t… I don’t like to be seen like that.” He paused, but then he held a hand out in between them. “Not- not that that happens often. I mean, I don’t make a habit of having emotional breakdowns.”

She didn’t say anything. Just stared at him.

He cleared his throat again, remembering little things he had felt badly about through the day. “Nesta, I’m sorry I acted like an ass. I’m sorry I didn’t appreciate the dinner you made me. I was rude as hell and you did nothing to deserve it.”

After a second, she glanced away, out over the pool. He figured she wasn’t going to reply, and he stood, heading back for the back door.

He had slid the door open and was halfway inside when she said, “If you’re hungry, I made lasagna for dinner. It should still be warm on the stove.”

He turned back and found a hint of a smile on her face. “Thanks, Nes.”

A continuation of his apology, Cassian had told Nesta he'd be on baby duty for the rest of the night, waking Nyx up for his bottle, granting her leave to do whatever she wanted. She elected to finish off the bottle of wine, open another, and relax in the bathtub with a book.

The book of choice was definitely not appropriate to read in front of Nyx.

Or Cassian, for that matter.

She had appreciated his apology, even though a part of her still wanted to be pissed. There were very few things that agitated her more than male bravado, and Cassian was the spitting image of it. Embarrassed because he was emotional? Please. Get the fuck over it.

Then again, she could say that all day, but in honesty, if the positions were reversed, she would have reacted very, very similarly.

If not worse.

Nesta had always felt too much, far more than either of her sisters. It wasn’t like they were robots, of course. Elain had a bigger heart than anyone Nesta had ever known, and Feyre had been a light to be around.

But, Nesta…

She felt it all, and she felt it far too deeply. She had learned long ago to shut those emotions off, to let them go, to not let her emotions show. They could just be used as a weakness.

And she found life worked better that way.

There was a soft knock on the bathroom door.

Nesta sat up straight, even though the door was locked, in a sudden panic over the fact that she was nude and reading smut.

“Yeah?”

“Nyx is going to bed,” he said. “Just thought you’d want to say goodnight.”

“I- Ah- Just a minute,” she called, setting the book down and reaching down to grab for her towel. She was out and damn near opened the door in just her towel again, but remembered their agreed upon rules. She snatched her robe, wrapping it around herself, towel and all.

She opened the door, Cassian standing just by her bed, and Nyx had his head resting on his shoulder, rubbing his little eyes.

The image was so pure and innocent that Nesta couldn’t stop herself from taking a few steps towards them, reaching out to brush her fingers down Nyx’s soft cheek. “Sweet dreams, buddy,” she breathed, leaning up to press a kiss to his forehead.

She regretted it almost immediately, as bringing herself that close in Nyx also inadvertently brought her to Cassian. His heady, nutmeg-and-campfire scent enveloping her, reminding her of the morning she’d come downstairs and found him as naked as she was now. She stepped back quickly, clearing her throat. “And goodnight to you, Cassian,” she murmured. She pointed back behind her towards the bathtub, towards her book, and said, “I’m going to read a little longer and then go to bed myself.”

He nodded. “Alright, I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight, Nes.”

The nickname didn’t bother her as much as it previously had, she realized as he made his way back out of her room, shutting the door behind him.

She didn’t let herself think about that, did her best not to think about him, as she sunk back into the warm water.

Nyx had gone down easily for Cassian, for the first time ever, thanks to the frozen toy he’d gnawed on to relieve the pain of his incoming tooth. He’d decided he deserved a treat, too, after that, and had sat down to watch the hockey game, a beer in hand.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a knock at the front door.

Cassian paused, glancing down at his watch, seeing that it was pushing nine o’clock. He stood, after a second knock sounded, making his way to the door. He opened it to find a woman dressed in a suit on the other side. “Can I help you?”

“Mr. Nazari, I assume?” She asked, extending her hand.

He took it, on instinct, shaking it, but he blinked. He repeated, “Yeah… Can I help you?”

Her brows twitched together. “My name is Alis Birch. I’m with social services.”

Cassian continued to shake her hand, staring.

“The courts told you we’d be making random visits to check in on Nyx,” she continued.

Oh, fuck, Cassian thought. Oh, fucking hell.

They’d completely forgotten about those random visits, in the past few weeks they’d been doing this, distracted by getting used to not only being parents, but getting used to each other as well.

“I see,” Cassian said, nodding. “I… I’ll…be right back.”

“I’d like to come in-.”

Cassian shut the door, quickly set his beer on the table in the entryway, and hauled ass upstairs.

He threw open the door to Nesta’s bedroom, only to found it empty, so he continued on, throwing open the bathroom door.

Where Nesta was still in the tub, completely nude, a book in hand, one hand disappeared beneath the water. Her head was thrown back in utter ecstasy.

Until Cassian barged in, anyway.

“Shit!” he yelled, just as Nesta gasped and sent the water sloshing out of the tub, over the porcelain edges.

Cassian quickly shut the door behind him, closing them into the bathroom together, and put his face in his hands. “Sorry!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she yelled, and he could hear her pulling the plug.

“It’s important, I swear,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands.

“If the house isn’t on fire or Nyx isn’t dying, it’s not important,” she cried, ducking behind the walls of the tub.

“It’s pretty fucking important,” he said, turning to give her a semblance of privacy. He heard her stand up, water moving and quiet dripping, before her feet landed on the rug outside the tub. “The social worker is here.”

She froze and he dared a look back at her. Thankfully, she was wrapped in her towel again, one arm pushed through her robe. “The social worker is here? Now?” He nodded, and she looked at the nearly empty bottle of wine next to the glass on the small table by the tub. It was the second one she’d had that night. “But it’s late,” she protested.

“It’s a random, surprise visit,” he replied. “I left her outside, but-.”

“You didn’t let her in?” Nesta demanded, eyes widening. “Cauldron, Cass, that makes us look so guilty.”

He blinked. “Of what?”

“I don’t know,” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “But it doesn’t make us look good.”

“Well, I didn’t know what to do,” he sighed, exasperatedly. “I sure as hell wasn’t expecting to come up here and find you doing that.” He gestured to the tub.

Nesta’s cheeks heated. He figured his own were going to permanently be the shade of red they were now.

No, that was the last thing he ever expected to catch Nesta doing.

“Just… Go let her in and stall her while I get dressed,” she sighed, crossing her arms, waiting for him to leave.

Cassian hesitated, then nodded, and hurried back down the stairs. When he reopened the front door, Alis Birch stood there. Her expression was hard, intimidating.

Cassian could feel himself sweat.

He prayed that Nesta somehow sobered up and got the fuck downstairs, because there was no way in hell he could do this without her.

#snacmc lawki #life as we know it #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #snelbz tacmc collab #snacmc

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everwitch-magiks · 3 years

Text

RWRB Fics Roundup

Hey y’all! Once upon a time I had the ambition to post links on here to all the fics and new chapters that I publish on AO3, and I think it’s safe to say that I’ve been an absolute disaster at that over the summer. In my defense I’ve just had so much to write, but that’s not much of a defense seeing as it doesn’t take ages to chuck a link on here. Anyhow. Bottom line is, I’ve severely neglected it, and it’s gotten to a point where I’m just gonna make a post with links to everything I’ve written since June (ish) for you to peruse, so you can see if there’s one that you didn’t catch wind of that catches your eye now. Neat, huh?

So, without further ado, the links! The fics! Let’s go.

Completed works

Love At First Bark General Audiences, AU, tooth-rotting fluff. 3K. “I still don’t know your name, do I?” Henry watches Alex where he’s crouched down in front of David and gently scratching David below his chin. David absolutely loves Alex. Henry can relate. “It’s David,” Henry supplies. “Cool,” Alex says. “And what’s the dog’s name?” Henry blinks at him. “... David?” “What?” Alex exclaims. He looks from David to Henry and then back at David again. “Wow, okay, that is a choice.” Henry wants to sink through the earth and never come back up again.

Shameless Explicit, AU, Henry has a reputation. 14K. Henry has a lot of sex. A lot. He's young and in college and there is no shortage of men to fall in bed with. What better time to explore what he likes and what he fucking loves, as well as to catalogue how to make his many, many partners feel as good as possible? It’s all part of the learning experience. And Henry is a very dedicated student.

Alex has been inescapably aware of Henry ever since that one time they kissed. You don’t just stop being aware of the guy who basically caused your sexuality. So when Henry propositions Alex at a lame frat party, Alex accepts eagerly. Maybe this is exactly what he needs. Maybe, if he can just have Henry once, he’ll have a better chance of finally getting over his embarrassing fixation with Henry. It's worth a try.

When The Time Is Right Part four of my sex club series. Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 16K. “Maybe I could challenge you more,” Henry suggests, his eyes carefully trained on Alex. “And hold you accountable for longer. How does that sound?” “That sounds fucking amazing,” Alex tells him, the words coming out in a rush. “Yes. That. Please.” “Alright, then.” Henry offers him a sly grin. “Alex, love. You just gave me a wonderful idea.” It’s really something, how quickly Alex’s heartbeat picks up. “Oh? Do tell.” Henry’s grin widens. He looks alarmingly pleased with himself. “How would you feel about a staycation?”

When Alex asks Henry for something a little more intense in the bedroom, they end up taking more than just their sex life to the next level.

Out For A Bite Explicit, AU, suspense and supernatural elements. 3K. Henry's eyes fly up, zeroing in on the reflection in the mirror. There, behind him. The man from the bar. He looks different in the fluorescent bathroom lights. Sharper. There’s a look in his eyes that has Henry shivering all over again. It's greedy. Hungry.

He’s staring right at Henry.

Henry's throat feels dry. His heart beats madly. He's heard whispers of this place, and more importantly of its patrons. He thinks he knows what this man is.

ever fallen in love (with someone you shouldn’t have fallen in love with) Explicit, AU, Alex and Henry in DIY Punk & mainstream pop punk, respectively. 34K. Teenage music sensation Kensington have taken the world by storm. With their cool leather jackets and wickedly distorted guitars, they're a pop duo that packs a punch. Or at least they sound like one—their lyrics unfortunately lack any semblance of depth. Alex can't fucking stand Kensington. But thankfully, he doesn’t have to. He’s not likely to cross paths with those British pop losers during his final semester of high school in Texas. And even if he did, he'd never let some stupidly attractive blonde take his focus away from the goal that Alex has worked towards for years: winning the Austin Band Slam with his latino punk trio.

But when Henry comes crashing into Alex's life, with his intriguing piano pieces and piercing blue eyes and slow, purposeful kisses that make Alex burn with want, Alex finds that he might need to reevaluate his stance on both pop losers and distractions. Or maybe not. Maybe he’s better off keeping Henry at arm's length, since it's so painfully evident that Henry will never love him back.

Never Tell Me The Odds Teen and Up Audiences, canon verse, an outside perspective on First Prince as well as a story about a certain Star Wars mural. 2K. "Wait!" Alex yells up to the driver. "Stop! Stop the car!" Up close, it's beautiful. Two stories tall. He can’t imagine how somebody was able to put together something like this so fast.

Ash had never imagined that they'd get the chance to actually meet Alex Claremont-Diaz, and much less get the chance to tell Alex about how that very special Star Wars mural came to be. Although of course, Ash never would have met Alex if it hadn’t been for Farida. Farida and her bold courage, and her warm compassion, and her sometimes infuriating (but always endearing) stubbornness.

yrs. faithfully (with nowhere to go) Explicit, canon verse, a lazy morning in bed leads to something more. 3K. When Alex and Henry wake up together the day before their anniversary, they're genuinely planning on getting out of bed and spending the day as productive members or society. Truly, their intentions are honorable. But a trip down memory lane gets them reminiscing about that night exactly one year ago, when Alex had come running through the rain to deliver some choice words about obtuse fucking assholes.

As Alex and Henry start to relive the memory, they quickly realize that they both remember it intimately. So intimately that they might be able to pull off something of a do-over.

Gadgets and Gizmos A-Plenty A companion piece to dearest Hattie’s soulmate fic. Mature, AU, a look into Henry buying sex toys. Yes. That’s the fic. 2K. There’s a bunch of regulars that Amir knows by name (and, unavoidably, by kinks), but most often Playtime gets one-time visitors. Which makes sense, really. A lot of people don’t seem to want to step into the same adult toy shop twice. So Amir is always a little extra curious when there’s a repeat customer, especially one who is this attractive. And, interestingly, one who’s come back so soon.

The tall, classically handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes left Playtime no less than five hours ago after having purchased a medium-sized, fairly standard vibrator well suited for anal play. And now he’s back. Because apparently, he’s found he needed another vibrator.

If Sex Was A Sport We’d Be Winning Mature, AU, a classic Olympics hookup. 3K. It's remarkable, truly, that Alex didn't even want to be here. He only came all the way to Ariake because June was determined to watch a bunch of prissy ponies strut around to music. Still, perhaps the true Olympic experience lies in the wide variety of disciplines. Or, perhaps, it has something to do with chatting up a pretty blond behind the stables and getting him to show you the inside of an Olympic tack room. As Alex quickly takes to Henry’s sweet smiles and easy confidence, he realizes that just a few stolen moments with this man might turn into his most cherished memory from the Tokyo Olympics.

Alex knows better than to get attached, though. He and Henry live an ocean apart. There’s no way this quick fumble in the stable equivalent of a supply closet could ever lead to anything more. Right?

Talk Dirty To Me Explicit, AU, dom Henry and sub Alex. 9K. Henry studies Nora’s expression for a moment. There’s something about her favourable account of this guy she claims not to want to sleep with again that doesn’t add up. "But you're still not interested in taking him on?"

"He wants more than I'm willing to offer," Nora says frankly. Henry’s always liked this about her—how she doesn’t skirt around the hard facts. It's a part of what makes her so good at dominating. "But you know what? For you, he'd be kind of perfect."

Henry has been active in the local BDSM scene for years and there’s no shortage of men who’d love nothing more than to find themselves at his mercy. But Henry is on a break. He’s not looking for a new partner, but he’s also not expecting to become so intrigued by the man that Nora insists he should meet. Alex is a newcomer on the scene who doesn’t yet know exactly what he wants, much less with who. There’s no way that he could turn out to be exactly who Henry needs. Right?

Date night (please toy with me) Explicit, canon verse, a night out leads to some fun with a toy. 4K. This… this is new. They’ve talked about trying this, about what it’d be like to conceal some of their intimacy in plain sight, about what it would feel like to try and reclaim what is most private to them by flaunting it without anyone even knowing, by daring to take risks again. They’ve agreed that they’d still need to be careful, but they’ve also agreed that it would be interesting. That it would be fun.

And apparently, Henry thinks tonight is the night for it. “Do you trust me, love?”

“Yeah.” Alex swallows. He picks up the box, studying it for a moment. “Do you want… what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to go to the bathroom,” Henry says evenly, “You’ll find everything you need in the box. Then I want you to come back and sit down. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Alex taps the box, grinning in Henry’s direction. “I expect we’ll be leaving soon?”

Henry smiles slyly. “If you’re good, yes.”

Ongoing works

Hashtag Soulmates Mature, AU, Henry writes fanfiction. 23K and 7 chapters so far. Alex is perfect and handsome, the golden boy, everybody’s secret crush. So there is absolutely no way that he is the reader who screeches in caps lock every time that Henry posts as much as a drabble. There’s no way. Except Alex just closed his browser fast as fucking lightning, but not before Henry had gotten a good glimpse of the page Alex had open: AO3. ‘Don't Stop Me Now’, Henry’s current wip. The one that Henry literally just updated.

Sweet Jesus. Could it really be?

That... is all! It’s been a productive summer. I’m very excited to continue writing Hashtag Soulmates, and also to start working on a few upcoming First Prince fics that I’m planning on writing. Stay tuned for fics! ♡

#First prince #FirstPrince #red white and royal blue #rwrb #alex claremont-diaz #Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor #evie writes #fanfiction

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solarwonux · 4 years

Text

Sunflower || Seokmin

seokmin x f!reader: soulmate au

w.c: 23.7k (its a long one get some popcorn lol)

warnings: angst, really really slow burn, suggestive themes (no nsfw sorry y’all)

note: I’M SO EXCITED TO FINALLY RELEASE THIS FIC, it has been released before but I rewrote it a little and finally finished it. PLEASE PLEASE LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS IT WOULD MEAN SO MUCH TO ME AND YES YOU DO NEED TO READ CHERRY FIRST IT WOULD MAKE A LOT MORE SENSE IF YOU DO.

cherry || masterlist

“Get up.” Seungkwan said opening the curtains in your room letting in the obnoxious rays of sunlight. You groaned turning over in your bed pulling the sheets over your head. A failed attempt to block the sunlight out. “I mean it get up.” He jumped on your bed, trapping you underneath him then tried to pry off the sheets from your body. Your iron-like grip holding them in place. You wiggled your body trying to wrestle him off. He scoffed placing his hands on your sides and jabbing them, an annoyed laugh falling out of your lips. He snickered grabbing onto your sheets and pulling them off your body.

“Get up!” He exclaimed letting you go, bringing your sheets along with him. He stood at the foot of your bed, hands on his hips, waiting. You whined, flaying your limbs up in the air, which only made him roll his eyes in annoyance. “It’s too early, let me sleep please.” You grumbled finally sitting up on your bed, crossing your legs and arms in front of you. You blinked rapidly trying to get used to the brightness of your once dark room.

“It’s almost two in the afternoon, I’m not letting you sleep anymore…so get up.” He commanded his hands leaving his hips and pointed an accusatory finger at you. “You’ve been doing this every weekend for the last five months and honestly I’ve had it.” He shook his head in disbelief and threw himself on your bed in despair. You rolled your eyes shoving him with your foot before laying down on your side, eyeing the unpleasant billboard outside your—well Seungkwan’s guest bedroom window. “Even if I get up, what's the point, I have nothing to do.” You sighed moving so you were now on your back, eyeing the ceiling fan as it turned with ferocity above your bed and attempted to count the times it went around in circles. Useless to say the least but helped calm you down.

“I talked to Vernon yesterday; he’s worried about you?” Seungkwan sat up poking your side again. The name that fell out his lips sent jabs of pain up your body and you tried your hardest to blink back the tears that had started to form at the sound of his name. “I’m fine.” You whispered turning over to face your best friend. His eyebrows furrowed as he searched your face carefully for any warning signs. “It’s okay not to be fine you know, it’s okay to admit it too.” He sighed wrapping an arm around your shoulder hugging you tightly.

“How is he?” You mumbled. The question had been lingering at the tip of your tongue since the day the two of you decided to finally part ways. Since the day you moved into Seungkwan’s guest bedroom and since the day Vernon told you about his back-packing trip around South East Asia. That night the two of you cried together on Seungkwan’s overly expensive couch, because your new realities, that didn’t involve one another as lovers, finally started to settle in.

When he walked out the front door, he had promised to come back under one condition. You knew it was eating him inside, but he held his head high and told you to try everything in your power to find the person that was meant to be your forever. He had found his, in fact his was the reason why the two of you were in this mess in the first place. Why the color you had gotten used to seeing for nearly five years had been stripped away from you.

“He’s good, he arrived in Thailand last night and yes he’s taking his vitamins and eating well.” Seungkwan stated he sat up bringing you along with him. “But he keeps asking about you and I’m tired of lying to him, so I’m taking you out today.” He smiled brightly, tugging a strand of hair behind your ear and placing a soft kiss against your forehead. “So, take a shower before I dump a bucket of water on you.”

“Where are you taking me?” You turned down the radio, your voice was hoarse from screaming out the lyrics to Dancing Queen with Seungkwan. A curious smile playing on your lips as you looked out your open window, the wind hitting your face making goosebumps rise onto your skin. Despite still not feeling like you could jump back and be the person you were five years ago or five months ago, you felt at ease.

“It’s a surprise.” Seungkwan stated in a matter of fact tone, finishing it off with a scoff. You rolled your eyes sitting back in your seat. The beginning melody of Toxic sounding through his car speakers made Seungkwan groan in protest. “Last time I let you pick the music.” He pointed out, turning on the turn signals.

“Shut up you love it.” You teased. “Now please tell me where we’re going, we’ve been driving for nearly three hours.” You whined, closing the window and bringing down the car visor. You opened the little mirror and cringed once you saw yourself. Your hair was sticking out in different places, your red lipstick was slightly smudged, and your mascara had started to run. If Vernon was next to you, he would’ve told you that you still looked like the most beautiful girl in the world. You grinned letting out a small sigh and shook your head. The feeling of nostalgia making its way underneath your skin whenever you thought of him. To your surprise you hadn’t bursted into tears yet and maybe that was an indication that you were finally starting to let yourself feel happiness once again.

“It’s been an hour and a half, you’re literally so dramatic.” Seungkwan said in disbelief as he slowed down the car. “Anyway, we’re here, but you have to put on the blindfold before we go anywhere.” He smiled, putting his car in park and shutting it off. He reached over the back seat and brought out a blindfold, cheekily showing it to you.

“Kwanie I know I’ve been a pain these last five months but I’m literally begging you to not kill me today.” You said as you finished up fixing your face as well as your unruly hair before closing the visor and turning to face him. He rolled his eyes shoving the blindfold into your hand. “I can’t stand you sometimes, just put the damn blindfold on.” He whined, tapping his fingers impatiently on his steering wheel. You saluted at him jokingly before putting it on. “Done, lead me to my death.”

“Let’s go drama queen.”

“You’re one to talk.” You mumbled opening his car door. Seungkwan grabbed your hands leading you out of the car, resting his hands on your shoulders. “I promise you’ll love it.” He said the smile prominent in his tone of voice as he started to walk you forward. You jumped putting one of your hands over his in panic, your stomach turning in anticipation. Your mind goes through numerous possibilities of what would be on the other side once you removed your blindfold. A part of you hoping it was Vernon, but you knew that wasn’t an option. He was out, doing something he had desperately wanted to do for years and no matter how much he cared for you. He wasn’t going to put his dreams to halt for you. The two of you had done it for far too long and now it was time to finally live for yourselves. It was something the two of you deserved.

“Alright we’re here.” Seungkwan stated as the two of you stopped walking. Your hands quickly went up to the blindfold and took it off quickly. A gasp falling out of your lips as you stared in awe at the black and white field of sunflowers. The heliotropic flowers swayed slowly in the wind as they reached up high towards the sunlight. Your stomach turning wishing you had never taken your color for granted.

“Kwanie, I-I love it.” You smiled turning to face the boy who was looking at you smugly. You hugged him tightly, burying your face into the crook of his neck finally letting the tears spill out. He nodded wrapping his arms around you tightly, slowly caressing your back as he let you cry. Something he had gotten used to since you had started living with him, and something he would never complain about. The pain you were going through, he could not understand no matter how hard he tried. He had never been in love before, his soulmate mark remained untouched, the words etched on his wrist haunting him for years, slowly making him lose hope. And that’s how he lived for a while until the night when you called him sobbing. The words coming out of your mouth he couldn’t make out, but he heard the pain laced in your voice. His heart broke as he knew what had happened.

Vernon had confided in him for nearly a year. At first, he didn’t agree with the way he was handling things, telling him that you should’ve been his first priority. But the more he thought about it the more he understood why he couldn’t. Vernon’s love for you was indescribable, he would’ve moved mountains and parted the red sea for you if he could. You were his light the reason he kept pushing even though at the end he knew what the outcome would be. The love the two of you had was pure art and Seungkwan could only hope to find something so perfect one day. Which is why he let you cry on him; let you curse out the world as he held you in his arms because even though he hadn’t found the person the universe had set him up with. He knew what it felt like to long for that person.

“We can cut some and take them home. Trust me the apartment needs a little bit of brightness.” He pulled away, his thumbs wiping the stray tears on your cheeks. You nodded turning around, watching the people you had overlooked run around happily. Some were by the little white kiosk that held bundles of sunflowers and strawberries and you assumed that’s where you would go to pay the fee. Others were taking pictures with the daisy like flowers, while others were cutting off the stems carefully to take home, fighting with the bees. The whole sight made you feel warm and at peace and though you had already cried. You felt like crying again only because the happiness that was bubbling up inside of you was overwhelming.

“Let’s go then and since you brought me here you will pay for them right.” You pouted batting your eyelashes up at him.

“What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t”

“The worst honestly.” You grabbed his hand leading him to the middle of the field. The skyrocketing flowers make you feel small as if you were an ant in the middle of a field of grass. “I wish I can see them in their truest form” You sighed taking one of the leaves in between your index finger and thumb. “But I can only remember what they would look like.” You nodded smiling sadly earning a flick on the forehead from Seungkwan. “Ow…what the hell Kwanie.”

“Stop getting all sad on me and smile please.” He said, bringing a pair of kitchen scissors from his back pocket. You cocked an eyebrow in curiosity, and you were about to ask him where the hell he had gotten them, until you noticed the miniscule flashes of color by his shoulder. You blinked rapidly, before rubbing your eyes forcefully not caring that you had smudged your mascara.

Seungkwan leaned up grabbing onto the flower stem, placing it in between the scissor blades and cutting it. A satisfied hum escaping his lungs, nodding in approval while he turned to you and brag. His smile fell once he noticed the look of distresses embedded onto your face. “What’s wrong, what happened?” He said dropping the flower along with the scissors and placing both hands on top of your shoulders. He shook you, your eyes turning wide while you looked around. The water pooling in your tear ducts and he tried to desperately grab your attention.

The broken flashes of yellow, coming in and out at a faster than before. Faster than the morning you had met Vernon. Your heart was at your throat and you pushed Seungkwan’s hands off your shoulders, ignoring his worried statements and pushed past him. You kept walking, your hands shaking at your sides as the flashes of color became more intense. Seungkwan followed you, taking long strides to keep up with you. “What’s happening…did something happen?” He asked his voice sounding with concern and once again you ignored him again, trying to find the reason why you were suddenly seeing color again. A part of you wondered if this was how Vernon had felt that night. If he felt lightheaded. If his body grew weak while his heart broke slowly into thousands of pieces while the flashes of color came in and out.

“Seokmin where are you going…what’s going on?” You heard a voice shout, your footsteps coming to a stop once your eyes found the ones of the person in front of you. The same look of distress you had on your face adorning his. You let out a sob seeing as the color poured in at a faster rate than before. The part of you that still loved Vernon breaking away slowly while you felt your heart start to beat out of time. Just like it had done that first time you met Vernon and you were introduced to a world of color. Seungkwan came up beside you, out of breath, his hand grabbing onto your arm, confusion written all over his features as he looked between you and the man standing a few feet away from the two of you.

“Min, you’re scaring me.” His friend said, waving a hand in front of his face. He didn’t budge, instead his eyes only got wider, and he took it upon himself to take a wary step forward. “D-Do you see i-it too?”

You nodded pushing the hand Seungkwan was using to hold you back off. “W-What’s your name?” You took a step forward, your body feeling as if it were on fire. Something you had never once experienced before.

“Seokmin, I-I thought I would never find you.” He confessed stopping until only a foot separated the two of you. His hands inside his jacket pockets itching to reach out to you. To embrace you, wipe away your tears, and tell you how beautiful you looked despite the mascara tracks staining your cheeks.

He never imagined that this day would come. Sure, he had fantasized about it since the day he learned what soulmate’s where. He had practiced numerous conversations inside his head, to be prepared. But he never once believed that he would be able to find, certainly not in a field of sunflowers on the hottest day of the year. And certainly not with you standing in front of him crying as if your heart was breaking instead of mending.

“C-Can I give you a hug?” You spoke rubbing the back of your hand against your cold cheek, a sob catching itself at the back of your throat. He nodded quickly, taking his hands out of his pockets and shaking them at his side. The two of you stared at each other in silence, eyes running all over the place. Your bodies daring to finally cross the line. In the end, despite your heart feeling as if it were to fall out of your ass. You crossed it, wrapping your delicate arms around his torso, the sob you had been holding in finally breaking out of its confinements.

Seokmin held you as if his life depended on it. His mind searching through the files of practice conversations he had over the years, trying to come up with something, anything to say to you right now.

With caution he started to run his hands down your back, trying to offer you comfort. His gaze landing on the man that had been chasing after you. To Seokmin his features were unreadable, but the tears that had started to fall out of his eyes spoke volumes and it scared him. He could only hope he wasn’t your significant other because the last thing Seokmin wanted to do was make you choose. If your heart didn’t belong to him then he’d live with the consequences because despite not knowing your name yet, he knew you deserved more than what the world had to offer.

“I-I’m sorry.” You pulled away; the residue of your mascara combined with your tears on his pale-yellow t-shirt. Your bottom lip trembles as the memories of your first meeting with Vernon came flooding back. “Everything is so fucked…I’m sorry you had to meet me like this.”

“Don’t be sorry, just because we met doesn’t mean we have to be together right away.” He nodded the soft pad of his thumbs lying against your soft cheeks. He studied your face closely, taking in everything as fast as he could. Afraid you would be taken away from him forever. He could tell something was bothering especially when you refused to look him in the eye. Only catching the subtle hint of sadness hiding behind your sparkling eyes. There was something you had to deal with, one that didn’t involve him, and he knew he had to put himself aside and you first.

“I’ve waited my whole life for you…I can wait a little longer.”

“Text him please.” Seungkwan pleaded falling on to your bed cuddled with your pillow. You stopped your typing and took off your glasses before looking down at him. His puppy dog eyes cause you to roll your eyes.

“I will once I’m done applying for this job.” You smiled sending him a playful wink. “No now, you always come up with an excuse to shut me up but this time it won’t work.” He sat up and hit you across your face lightly with your pillow, blocking your view. You whined feeling the weight of your laptop disappear from your lap and you knew this was a fight you weren’t going to win.

“Why does it matter, it’s not like I’ve been ignoring him, I respond to his good night and good morning texts every day.” You sat up and reached over to grab your laptop in which he was holding close and tightly to his chest. “Wow girlfriend of the year.” Seungkwan rolled his eyes, turning his body from your grabby hands.

“We’re not dating…please give me my laptop back.” You pulled at his arms as they got tighter around your precious device. You cursed falling back on your bed when you realized your attempts were going to be deemed as unsuccessful.

You slammed your hands down on your bed in frustration. Seungkwan sighed and set down your laptop on your bedside table before laying down next to you. He poked your cheek, grabbing your attention, your pouty gaze making his heart sink. “I’m scared, what if the same thing that happened with Vernon happens again.” You confessed hitting your palm against your forehead, silently punishing yourself for your stupidity.

“We don’t get anywhere in life letting our fear get in the way of things.” He grabbed your hand and placed it on his chest. “And you can’t keep comparing this potential relationship with the one you and Vernon had because you’ve been given a chance to start over and fall without a care in the world.” He said playing with your fingers gently. “So, ask him out, I know he’s been dying to see you again.”

“How do you know?” You scoffed pulling your hand from his and resting it on top of your stomach. You looked up at the ceiling, counting the small indents that appeared over years of overuse. Your mind racing back to the events that occurred at the middle of the sunflower field as well as what happened after. Which was nothing, you had told Seokmin that you needed time before jumping face first into a brand-new relationship. He had agreed, told you he’d wait for you a whole lifetime again if that’s what you needed, and it broke your heart. You could tell he was a little disappointed. It was written all over his face, despite the smile that adorned it and you couldn’t imagine how he was feeling now, especially with your lack of communication.

“Soonyoung told me.” Seungkwan flicked your forehead bringing out of your daze making you glare at him in the process. You were thankful for him and everything he had done for you throughout your devastating break up with Vernon but sometimes you wished he wouldn’t worry so much. “Wait…when did you get his number?” You sat up leaning your body over and poking his side. He convulsed pushing your hands away before sitting up and crossing his legs under him. “That day at the field while Seokmin paid for your flowers.” He pointed behind you to the vase that held your withered sunflowers. “Also, when are you going to get rid of them, they’re looking a little dead.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him as hard as you could. He was right, the flowers had been dead for almost two months, but every time you looked at them, they reminded you of Seokmin and that thought alone made you happy. “Never, I’m going to be buried with them. Now get out of my room I need to finish applying for this job.” He nodded reaching over for your laptop and handed it to you before getting off from your bed.

“Fine, but please text him, Soonyoung and I made a bet and so far, he’s winning, and I really really don’t want to give him a cent.” He laughed walking out of your room, holding onto the door handle tightly.

“Seungkwan my love life is not a game.” You shouted, throwing your pillow at him. His eyes grew wide in panic and he ran out of your room, closing your door quickly. Causing your pillow to hit the door and fall to the floor. You shook your head and laid back on your bed, your laptop and job application long forgotten as you eyed your charging phone. Your hands itched to reach out and grab it and finally send the text you had written countless times, but never sent because of fear.

“Fuck it.” You reached over and pulled it off the charging cable, unlocking it and opening your message app. Seokmin’s good morning text sat unread at the top of the list. Your heart palpitated as you typed the message you had memorized and counted to ten before hitting send. You panicked throwing your phone across your bed and getting off it, the sweat forming on your hands as they shook. You ran out of your room, down the hallway and into the kitchen, your eyes landing on a smug looking Seungkwan as he turned a wine glass in his hand.

“I sent it.”

“Finally, I’m about to be fifty dollars richer.”

“How do I look?” You walked into the living for the umpteenth time that afternoon, this time you were adorning a sky-blue summer dress and white vans. “Every time you’ve asked me that I’ve told you the same thing, you look great now finish getting ready he’s going to be here in literally ten minutes.”

“I know but each outfit doesn’t feel right.” You threw your hands up and sat on the lounge chair putting your feet on top of the coffee table earning a look of disapproval from Seungkwan. “What if I wear the wrong outfit and the same thing as last time happens.” You pushed your hair back, lightly tugging at your roots.

“Sometimes I find it hard to believe that I’m the dramatic one in this friendship.” He leaned over and pushed your feet off the coffee table making you pout. “A bad outfit isn’t going to trigger what happened with Vernon, so calm down and touch up your make or hair. Whatever you need to do because now you have a solid five minutes before he gets here.” Seungkwan stood up from his seat and pulled you up from the lounge chair.

“See, I knew my outfit was bad. Now I have to go change again.” Seungkwan rolled his eyes while he pushed you back into your room. “It was a hypothetical, you look beautiful, but what does look bad is your hair so fix it because time is ticking and neither of us are getting any younger.” He guided you to your mirror waving his hands around your disheveled hair, scolding at yourself for having the terrible habit of pulling on it whenever you were anxious or frustrated.

“Fine, but can you keep on the lookout.” You spoke your eyes growing wide, the feeling of panic rushing through your veins when the doorbell sounded. “Looks like I don’t need to.” Seungkwan grabbed your brush and handed it to you before exiting your room, closing the door behind him. “Don’t change or I’ll come in here and drag you out in whatever terrible outfit you have on.” He scolded the sound of his feet getting softer as he neared the front of the apartment.

You sighed putting down your brush and smoothed out your hair as much as you could before tying in back in a loose half up and half down style. You slowly counted to ten putting on your earrings and the rings you could find on top of your messy dresser. You gave yourself one last look, whispering words of encouragement and walked out. Seungkwan and Seokmin’s animated voices getting louder as you got closer to the living room.

“Tell Hoshi I’m expecting his payment by tonight.” Seungkwan jokes. Seokmin threw his head back in laughter, making you roll your eyes.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting.” You cleared your throat, putting your cross-body bag on and gripping the leather strap tightly to keep your hands from shaking. Seokmin’s laughter died down as he turned to face you, a blush appearing on his cheeks as he took in your appearance. “It’s okay I didn’t wait long.” He shook his head smiling, he extended his free hand to you before quickly exchanging it with the one that held the flowers. “These are for you. I wasn’t sure if I should get you the daisies, the roses, or the lilies so I got you all three.” His nervous eyes left yours and looked around looking for another point of focus.

“I love them, thank you so much.” You took them from him, holding them close, a color of array of emotions bursting inside of you making you feel as if you were being reborn.

“Alright, you two get out of here, go have fun.” Seungkwan broke the silence taking your flowers from you. He gave you a pointed look as he shuffled the two of you out. “Have her home by midnight.” He opened the front door signaling the two of you out. “Will do, it was nice seeing you again Seungkwan.” Seokmin walked out leaving you behind to follow him through the compressed doorway.

“I’m terribly sorry about him.” You sent Seungkwan a glare, his tongue poking out at you in a teasing manner before shutting the door.

“He should meet the rest of my friends. I think they’d get along very well.”

Seokmin and you walked in silence, your hands brushing against one another daring to feel each other’s warmth. The sweet melodies of the night life filling in the pockets of the comfortable silence that was lingering in the air around you. A few sorry’s and excuse me’s were exchanged by oblivious passer-byes making the two of you exchange inconspicuous stares. Smiles etching from side to side, cheeks flushing dark crimson. Your hearts matching time unbeknownst to the outside world.

You tried to come up with anything to say though you ended up falling short. Even though the silence that was between the two of you was loud, blaring in forms of sirens. It wasn’t enough to overwhelm you, and for that you were thankful.

“We’re here.” Seokmin finally broke the silence, his shoulders settling to a calm composure. He grabbed the door handle and opened it, stepping aside giving you room to walk in.

The second you did you were hit with a colorful aroma of different tea blends, sweets and spices. The quirky designs and phrases decorating the different walls jumped out at you. And the calm soothing vibe warmed up your insides, calming your nerves.

Seokmin came up behind you finally crossing the line the two of you had unknowingly laid out. “I hope you don’t mind this is my favorite boba shop, I know it’s not ideal, but I was really drawing a blank when you texted me earlier.” Seokmin placed a hand on your shoulder, making your breath hitch as he stood behind you patiently waiting to be attended.

“It’s okay, I love it, plus we have other chances to go on more extravagant dates.” You exaggerated, giving him a warm smile. Seokmin swore he had been lifted up into heaven and dropped once he saw the light on your face.

“I’d love nothing more.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze before wrapping it around your front, gently pulling you close. “T-This okay?” He asked, his voice wavering at the end giving you the indication that he too was unfamiliar with this new ocean the two of you had plunged yourselves into. “Yes, this is perfect.” You answered a little too excited.

“Great, what do you want then?” Seokmin pointed to the menu behind the front counter. You looked up skimming through the various flavors and options silently before turning your head to face him. “Why don’t you choose me?”

“Are you sure, you’re putting a lot of trust in me. This decision could either make or break us.” He joked moving with you as the person in front stepped up to order. You smiled, shaking your head, bringing up a hand and intertwining it with the one Seokmin had around you.

“I guess you better choose wisely then.”

In the end Seokmin ended up ordering four different flavors of boba tea. All this favorite.

The cashier had given the two of you strange looks, probably wondering why the hell two people needed four drinks and it only made you laugh even harder. Seokmin had given you a pointed look before breaking into a smile, that you swore could light up every room. It made your heart skip a beat, fill you up with happiness that you hadn’t felt ever since that day at the park with Vernon. Making you realize that that was the last time you had felt that type of happiness.

“So why four?”

“I just ordered all my favorites, just in case my favorite favorite wasn’t your favorite.” Seokmin placed two of the drinks down onto the table, the two of you indiscreetly walked too. He waited for you to take your seat before taking his, at his respectful side of the tiny booth.

“So, which one is your favorite favorite?” You leaned your elbows forward toying with the plastic wrap of one of the straws.

“The mango green tea one.” He nodded pushing the drink in question towards you. You snickered, breaking the plastic wrap, lifting your hand to break the lid, stopping short when you noticed Seokmin’s hand covering the lid. “Before you try it, promise me this won’t be our first and last date.” He whispered his eyes all but pleading making your heart sink.

Sighing you brought your hand down, setting the straw aside. You put your hands over his, lifting it up to your lips, giving them a gentle kiss. You couldn’t blame him for asking. You had ignored him for almost three months, only answering his good morning and good night texts. He had every right to doubt you and your word. Without his knowledge you were putting back the pieces that were left behind after five years of living in a perfect illusion. Vernon still lived in the back of your mind, sometimes his memories still made your heart flutter and the what if’s still kept you up at night.

It was a conversation you needed to have with Seokmin, he didn’t deserve to be lied to or kept in the dark, especially because your heart wasn’t all that there yet. And because his was still innocent and pure, but for tonight you would bask in your dream world. Make promises you weren’t sure you could keep yet, because a part of you was starting to desperately cling onto him.

“Seokmin I promise.”

There was a first time for everything.

And for the first time in your life you had laughed so hard to the point you had milk tea coming out of your nose.

“Sorry.” Seokmin’s demeanor fell, stopping his over dramatic retelling of how he and his friends came to own a pottery studio. He panicked, a troubled expression replacing his soft gaze, scrambling to get a napkin out of the holder. You tried to regain your breathing as he handed you a handful of napkins, but your imagination took over and you doubled over in laughter, your forehead coming down onto the table. The images of Seokmin and his friends dressed as cats, dancing and singing along to the musical soundtrack in order to convince the previous owner to hand over the studio with the first six months of rent paid. Replaying in your mind like a movie reel.

“D-Don’t be t-that’s the funniest thing someone’s ever told me, and I’ve known Seungkwan for half of my adult life.” You panted and placed your hand on your chest, your stomach throbbing in blissful pain. Seokmin smiled, his cheeks blushing red. He reached over cradling your cheek gently, wiping your nose. The situation finally became clear and you flushed in embarrassment.

“You’re cute.” He whispered, his face lighting up before he gave your cheek an awkward kiss from across the table. “I think I’ve embarrassed myself here today more than I have my entire life.” You let out a small laugh, your hand coming up to your forehead and hitting it lightly with the palm of your hand.

“Like I said, you’re cute.” Seokmin removed your hand, locking his fingers with yours before sitting back in his seat. “Can I come sit over there?” You toyed with the straw of your drink, signaling to the empty space next to him with your head. Seokmin nodded, tugging on your hand lightly signaling that his impatience was close to take over. You removed your hand from his hold and stood up. He eyed you carefully as you smoothed out your dress, the light blue hue brought out the beauty of your smooth skin. It complimented the sparkle that lived behind your eyes making them look as if they held the entire universe behind them.

For the first time in his entire life, Seokmin finally understood the hype around the color blue.

He wrapped an arm around your shoulder after you sat down. You put your head on his shoulder, blushing when you felt his body stiffen. “Will you take me to the studio one day?” Your index finger coming up to play with the water ring your drinks had left behind on the table.

“If you do me a favor.” He swallowed trying his best to get his body to relax, but it felt as if it were on fire and no amount of water would be able to put it out. “I’m not dressing up as a cat and dancing for you, if that’s what you want.” You looked up as he started to cough, his eyes wide as he choked on air due to your statement. His mind wandered to places it shouldn’t ever wander and he wanted to slap himself mentally as well as physically. You sat up and patted his back, a knowing smile forming on your face and made a mental note to add what you had said to the list of embarrassing things that had happened today.

“N-No nothing like that, t-that wasn’t what I meant.”

“I know I was just messing with you.” You poked his nose and it only made him blush even harder, and it made your ego swell knowing you had such an effect on him. “What is it?”

“Please stop calling me Seokmin, it makes me feel like I’m in trouble with my mom.” He chuckled awkwardly, bringing up a hand to the back of his neck and rubbed it awkwardly. “What do I call you then?” You cocked your head to the side, bringing a hand up to smooth the collar of his button down shirt. It had been bothering you the entire night, but you didn’t have it in you to fix it. Afraid you were crossing a boundary either of you were ready to cross. But seeing as how the events were playing out you assumed it was alright.

“Call me DK.”

“Like the video game character?” Another fit of laughter threatening to break through the surface. Seokmin sighed, shaking his head in disbelief before pulling you close to his body. “Could be, but it’s short for Dokyeom.” He grabbed your hand from his chest and hooked his pinky with yours, swinging them in front of your bodies. You acknowledged, taking in your bottom lip in between your teeth. The butterflies that had been growing throughout the night in the pit of your stomach were having a field day. It was scary, you had only known him for almost three hours, and you were reading to risk it all once again.

“How about I call you baby instead?”

“Say it one more time?” Seokmin had you pressed against the outside wall of your apartment. Your hold on the doorknob faltered as you felt his lips hover over your own. “Baby,” You whispered, finally letting go of the doorknob and wrapping your arm around his neck.

“That’s my new favorite song.” He stated pressing your body closer to his, lifting you away from the wall. “Is that so…baby.” Seokmin groaned hiding his face in the crook of your neck. A tiny laugh falling out of your lips. You wrapped your hands around him, running your hands down his back gently.

“Please let me kiss you.”

Seokmin pleaded, lifting his head up to face you. A teasing smirk settling on your lips as you took the disparity behind his beautiful eyes. “Nope, you haven’t earned that privilege yet.” You pushed him away gently, stepping aside and finally entering the passcode to your front door.

“Ask me to be your girlfriend first.” You turned the doorknob, his arms snaking around your waist, his breath tickling the shell of your ear, the adrenaline you had felt throughout the night intimidating a breakthrough.

“Will you be my gir—.” You turned around quickly covering his mouth with your hand, the panic evident behind his glimmering eyes. “Not here, not now Seokmin.” You brought your hand down and he pulled away, taking his arms with him. “You’re right I’m sorry.” He hit his forehead gently with a closed fist, mumbling indiscreetly underneath his breath. For a second you thought you had ruined everything.

“I-I want you to be sure first, I don’t want to rush into anything.” You said as reassuringly as possible, the tiny fear demon in your mind finally coming out to play as it filled you with your doubts “I know, I’m sorry…sometimes I get too carried away, but I meant what I said the first time I met you.” He stuffed his hands inside his pockets, shrugging awkwardly. “I just hope that one day you can tell me what’s holding you back.”

“Seokmin it’s just that I—.”

“You don’t have to tell me today, but I promise I’ll listen to you when you’re ready.” He nodded closing the gap you had created and gave your forehead a gentle kiss. “Goodnight, sleep tight…baby.” He winked before stepping back and walking out of your line of sight leaving you breathless and overwhelmed, to the point where all you wanted to do was cry, because to say the least you were still scared and confused.

You let out a sigh and turned around punching in the passcode, impatiently waiting for the door to click open. You angrily shuffled inside your apartment, closing the door behind you. You placed your forehead against it, toeing off your shoes and pushing them aside. You took a deep breath and counted to ten before facing Seungkwan who was without a doubt going to be waiting for you to hear all about how your date went. You plastered on your best fake smile, going over points Seungkwan was sure to ask in your head and turned around, expecting to see him on the couch dramatically twirling a glass of Rosé in his hand.

And you wished that’s what you were met with, but like always the universe had its way of working and for a while it had been working against you. So of course, you were met with Seungkwan, a forgotten bottle of Rosé on the coffee table as he held onto Vernon while he sobbed into his arms.

“W-What’s wrong?”

The minute you laid eyes on Vernon you felt like your whole world collapsed into tiny shards of glass at your feet. You couldn’t breathe. It was as if your lungs were being crushed by two weights of pressure. You stood there in the middle of the living room, your words getting caught at the back of your throat, while Seungkwan ushered a sobbing Vernon out into the balcony of the small apartment. Leaving you behind to deal with your own curses. Seungkwan gave you one last sympathetic look almost as if he were telling you that he had everything under control. Yet, it didn’t help ease your newfound anxiousness as all you wanted to do was run outside and push Seungkwan away to comfort the boy you once loved. The same one a part of your soul still loved and held onto for dear life in fear that one day you would wake up and forget what it was like to ever be loved by him.

It was overwhelming. The feeling bubbled up inside of you as you retreated from the living room and made your way into your own room, looking for an escape. You were met with your four walls and memories that were buried deep into the archives of your mind started to play. Reminding you just how much you truly longed for Vernon. Reminding you just how much craved for his touch.

It was cruel. The tricks your mind was playing on you and for a moment you let it consume you. Deciding that this was it for you and you had a good but unfortunate run but it was too much for your poor body to handle.

Like that the seconds passed and then came the minutes and eventually four hours had gone by with you having no recollection of what you had done. How you changed out of your blue dress or when you had replied to Seokmin’s text with a simple: I’m fine, miss you already. Another lie you could add onto your belt. Your self hatred growing as time slowed down everything around you making it seem as if you were underwater.

Maybe one day you’ll finally be strong enough to face him and tell him the truth. Open your chest up to him and let him in on your soul crushing secret because he deserved to know the truth. But that time wasn’t now, at least not while you sat against the door frame of your bedroom door. Looking out into a dark lonely hallway hoping that the next person to come through wasn’t the one you wanted to hold.

You wanted to scream out into the void. Scream at the universe for being so cruel. Scream at Seokmin for finding you when you were still hurting. And you wanted to scream at Vernon for showing up in such a state that made you want to drop everything and give him the entire world again. But whenever you opened your mouth nothing but silence came out. Leaving you behind to deal with feelings you didn’t fully understand.

“He wants to see you.” Seungkwan’s voice brought you back down to Earth. You looked up, running your hands over your tear stained face, meeting his pained expression. Another thing you could add to the list of things you hated about yourself.

Seungkwan didn’t deserve to be caught in between two broken people and act as their mediator. He deserved a life where he wasn’t constantly picking up the pieces and breaking his neck to offer comfort to two selfish people that clearly did not deserve it. Every night you found yourself hoping he’d finally realized this. You hoped he’d leave you behind and continue the life he had put on pause for you and Vernon. You hoped he could find better friends that finally saw him as someone more than just a shoulder to cry. Your wishes falling onto deaf ears because he was still here wiping away your tears.

“He wants to talk to you.” He crouched down in front of you and gently flicked your forehead. “I don’t want to see him.” You whispered resting your cheek against your knees as you avoided his eyes and looked out into the dark hallway again. “I’m scared.” A tiny sob fell out of his lips as he sighed, taking a seat in front of you.

“Not as scared as he is right now.” Seungkwan placed a hand on top of your head and smoothed out the frizziness that had occurred over your neglect. “I helped him as much as I could now I’m passing the torch down on to you because I think you can offer him a lot more than what I can.”

“I can’t...a broken person can’t help another broken person. We tried it before and it ended in a mess.”

“Then don’t try to help him and just listen to him.”

“What if I say or do something wrong and I just make everything worse?.” You lifted up your head and met Seungkwan’s frustrated gaze. He ran his soft hands over your cheeks wiping away the tears that had silently started to decorate your face again. He placed a soft comforting kiss against your forehead before standing up and offered you his hands.

“I doubt you can make him feel even worse than he already does.”

You held the beer cans Seungkwan had laughably shoved in your arms close to your chest. Your eyes stung from the salty tears that had been pouring out. It frustrated you because it seemed like the only thing you could do nowadays was cry. It made you feel weak and worthless.

There was a little voice in the back of your head that was scolding you. Telling you to suck it up because whatever was going on with Vernon had nothing to do with you or the beautiful tragic past the two of you shared. You had realized this hours ago, yet you still cried as if you were the one at fault or the one feeling his pain with him.

That was something the universe didn’t take into account when she had rudely decided to split the two of you up. No matter what happened or where the two of you ended up in life you’d always be connected by a single string. Your life lines belonged to one another, the pain he felt you felt it to.

Maybe that was the aftermath of this whole soulmate fiasco or maybe it was something you made up to give yourself comfort. But at least he didn’t have to endure it all alone.

You took a deep breath before sliding open the balcony door. The humidity of the summer air hitting you square in the face causing the feeling of suffocation to return. Yet somehow it still sent shivers up your spin as if it were winter. A side effect of being in the presence of your past lover.

His back was turned to you and you would’ve thought he hadn’t noticed you if it weren’t for the awkward shift of his legs and the tension in the air. He looked down at the nightlife that had started to crowd the streets for their daily rituals. A soft hot breeze blew dancing with a few strands of his hair, while the annoying billboard that covered the sky view from your bedroom window casted a faint spotlight on him.

“You wanted to see me?” You cleared your throat and closed the balcony door behind you. Vernon turned around, his swollen eyes and tear stained face matched yours. “Can I give you a hug?” He choked out, his lips trembling slightly. You nodded and placed the beer cans down onto the small patio table before closing the gap between the two of you. A broken sob fell out of his lips when your arms finally found their way around his frame. You held him tightly, breathing in his familiar scent, feeling the goosebumps rise along your arms as you rubbed soothing circles down his back. Your own eyes brimming with tears as you felt him shake in your arms and it broke you.

“What happened?” You broke the silence with the question that had been lingering in your mind for hours. Vernon raised his head and you reached over to gently wipe away his tears with the sleeves of your hoodie. He pulled away from you once you retreated your hands and walked over to the balcony railing, turning his back to you. You were left standing there unsure if you should follow him or keep your feet planted in the spot a few feet away from him.

“I think the world has a personal vendetta against me.” He shrugged, breaking the suffocating silence. You grabbed the beer cans and walked over and stood next to him. “That’s a pretty big claim don’t you think?” You handed him a can. His fingertips slightly brushing over yours, sending a jolt of sparkling shivers up your spine.

“The person I saw myself growing old with turned out to not be the person the universe had picked out for me and the person the universe did pick out for me died last night. I’d say it’s the right claim to make.” He laughed bitterly opening the beer can and taking a generous drink from it.

“L-Last night, Vernon you’re not shitting me are you? I just had lunch with them yesterday.” You shook your head bringing a hand up to your face and slapping your cheeks gently. Your head didn’t want to settle down and your heart was starting to speed up. It was impossible you had seen them not even twenty four hours ago. You had laughed over a funny video on their phone and bonded over a book two of you had been consequently reading.

“You two were friends?” Vernon exclaimed his voice containing hints of underlying shock and confusion. “I guess we were.” You shrugged and opened up your beer can. “I didn’t mean to befriend them at first. I reached out to them after you left cause I knew you were in contact with them and since Kwanie wasn’t telling me anything about you at first. I thought that if I got close to them, they would eventually bring you up and I’d finally know how you were.” You finished bringing the can up to your lips and took a few sips. The bitter taste hitting your tongue making you groan in annoyance.

“Did I come up?” He glanced over at you, a sneaky smirk forming on his lips at your confusion. “Only when they found a way to insert an apology over the events of that night. Even after all the times I had told them that it was fine. That I was fine.”

“Are you fine?”

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” You grinned, bumping your hips with his making him stumble. “Everyone already has. I wanted to spice things up for once.” He smiled up at the night sky. You watched making it obvious that you were. The stars sparkled behind his tired eyes reminding you of all the wishes you had made whenever you looked into them. Some of them came true others didn’t and it had torn you apart until one day it didn’t.

“I don’t matter right now Vernon.” You took a sip from your beer cringing at the taste once again. You had to remind yourself that you weren’t drinking for the pleasure, but for the strength you needed to be next to him right now.

Vernon blew out a raspberry and took the last sip of his beer before turning to face you. He grabbed your hand and brought it up to his lips kissing each of your knuckles before placing it on his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch basking in the feeling of having you next to him again. You took a deep breath as the hand holding his beer can circled around your waist and brought you close. He opened his eyes once he felt your chest against his, soft eyes running over your features carefully taking in everything that had stayed the same but had also subtly changed. Vernon freed your hand letting his fingers run up your arm until they reached your chin.

His touch ignited your insides. The world falling away over the horizon leaving two broken souls behind reveling in each other's warmth once again.

“You will always matter to me.”

You tried everything to keep the tension between the two of you at bay. To keep your focus on his words rather than the way his lips moved as he explained his soulmate’s unfortunate death.

It had been a hit and run and it filled you up with anger. Anger that you had never once had the privilege of experiencing until the words escaped Vernon’s mouth. “I just feel guilty. I never gave them a chance. I ran away when I realized things wouldn’t go back to normal and now I’m sure I’m being punished for it.” Vernon sighed and brought his fourth beer up to his lips, taking a decent sip from it before gazing over at you. His eyes shined as if they held a thousand tiny little universes and you found it difficult to look away.

The space between the two of you disappeared and you found yourselves shifting closer to one another as if pulled by two magnets. Your legs were resting on top of his thighs and his warm hand wrapped around your calves, rubbing soothing circles against your skin. The light of the billboard casted a warm glow onto the two of you making the setting a little more intimate than intended. But neither of you found yourselves complaining.

“Vernon, don’t say that...they understood our situation and they wanted to wait until you were ready.” You reached over and pushed a fallen strand of his hair back, your heart beating out time and you felt as if the entire world had stopped. It was a known fact that you two were reaching into uncharted territory but neither of you wanted to hit the brakes just yet. Maybe it was the unfinished business between the two of you or the lingering feelings that would always remain. But you had decided to blame it on your vulnerability, the stupid billboard light and the beers shared between the two of you.

Whatever it was, you didn’t want it to stop.

“I think I really could’ve loved them.” Vernon let out a sigh and sat back, his hand squeezing your calf. “Maybe not in the way I loved you, but in a way that could’ve been special between the two of us. I talked to them almost every day and each time I found my heart jumping out of my chest. It was as if I was a kid in high school again scared to comfort their crush.” He sighed and looked up at the sky, silently counting the tiny little dots of light that could’ve been stars or planets from universes across.

You watched him carefully, finally taking in how much he had changed from the last time you saw him. He had grown out a little bit of stubble, slight bags stood underneath his eyes and his cheeks were red from the sun. A clear indication that he had not once thought of putting on sunscreen and you wondered if he did it to hear your voice nagging him in the back of his mind. Or if he finally felt free to do whatever he wanted. Either way he was different, not just physically but there was something about him you couldn’t pinpoint. And it frustrated you because before you would have been able to read him as if he were your favorite book. Now you had lost a few pages along the way and you didn’t know where to turn too anymore.

“So what happens now?” You whispered tilting your head to the side, the droplets of your forgotten beer running down your fingers. He sighed and looked over at you before reaching over and massaging the creases between your brows. He always scolded you about it, told you your face was a piece of art and didn’t need any extra tension. And although you had never believed him before and brushed it off as a joke, the way he was looking at you as if you were his entire world made you believe him.

“Your guess is as good as mine. I can still see the world in all its glory, the colors haven’t faded and I don’t think they will.” He brought his hand down your face and cradled your cheek gently. “I think they were it for me. I just wish we had more time.” He nodded before running his index finger across your cheek and down the bridge of your nose stopping just above your cupid’s bow. “But can I tell you a secret.” His eyes filled with hope as the words spilled out of his mouth.

“As long as you don’t make me keep it.”

“You will always be my favorite color.”

It was wrong.

The way Vernon’s lips danced against the skin of your neck as he pushed you up against your bedroom door, was wrong. He wasn’t yours anymore and you weren’t his but you felt the flame burn deep inside you. One that had gone out long before the universe took the man in front of you away. You were feeling it again and letting it consume your entire being. You didn’t want it to stop.

“We have to be quiet.” You moaned out, fingers playing with the hem of your old graphic tee that you were sure had belonged to him. From what you could remember it had smelled like him once and somewhere along the creases he had left his mark.

“Seems a bit challenging for you.” He teased and pulled away, his lips leaving your skin making you feel empty. He smirked and circled his arms around your waist letting them travel down your back and landing on your ass before giving it a squeeze making you yelp in surprise. He chuckled and pulled you close, “Thought you said we needed to be quiet?” He quirked an eyebrow before leaning down letting his lips hover above yours.

“F-Fuck...just kiss me already.” You whimpered and wrapped your arms around his neck and brought his head closer, but he restrained from closing the gap and you let out a desperate whine. “I miss you angel, I miss you so much I don’t think I can hold myself back anymore.” He confessed his words making their way into your heart and locking themselves in. The little voice in the back of your head yelling at you to stop but you pushed it aside, desperate to feel his warmth again.

“Then don’t”

Vernon’s lips crashed onto yours barely letting the words leave your mouth. You could taste the bitter alcohol on his breath, a reminder that neither of you where in the right mind to be doing this. Yet the fire between the two of you grew. You found yourself ignored the flaring alarms going off in your head again as you kissed him back with the same hunger he was kissing you.

He tapped the side of your hip and mumbled an almost incoherent jump and you obeyed, wrapping your legs around his waist while he held you as close as he could. He pushed the two of you away from the door, his lips desperately dancing against yours. The crude sounds the two of you were making bounced off your bedroom walls and you were sure the two of you were being anything but quiet.

Vernon pulled away and carried you over to your desk removing everything he could before setting you down on top of you. You pushed yourself against him letting the back of your hand brush against the collar of his shirt. He smirked and gave it a tiny peck before finally bringing your shirt over your head and throwing it somewhere behind him.

“Still as beautiful as I remember.” He hummed your face heated up as he attacked your neck again. This time making sure he was leaving his mark on you one last time. You threw your head back moaning his name lost in the pleasure he was giving you when your peripherals caught sight of something that made your heart stop.

The faded yellow of the withered sunflower’s Seokmin had given you were now staring at you in disapproval. You felt your breathing regain speed and it wasn’t because of the way Vernon’s lips traveled down the navel of your breasts. No, it was because reality finally decided to hit you and you were once again planted back down onto Earth.

“Vernon stop.” You choked out. The flame inside of you dying and quickly replacing itself with the poison fear brought with it. Vernon stopped his movements and pulled away as fast as he could. You saw the concern wash over his soft features as his eyes ran all over your face. “What happened, did I do something wrong?” His words raced out of his lungs at the speed of light and he cradled your face in his hands. The tears soon started up again as Seokmin’s laugh rang in your ears. His broken face staring back at you when you had denied him earlier that evening made you feel as if you were the worst human being on planet Earth.

“W-We can’t do this Vernon.” You shook your head trying to avoid his gaze and placed a hand against his chest before pushing him away. Vernon sighed, letting his eyes land on your flower face and somehow he had finally understood what happened. “I know, I’m sorry...I should’ve stopped the minute I kissed you.” His shoulders fell letting the guilt wash over him like a tidal wave. His confession left you broken but he didn’t try to fight you or himself. Instead he created the space you need to breathe and looked around your room for your shirt.

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have egged you on.” You pushed yourself off your desk not caring about the things that had fallen onto the floor and grabbed your shirt from Vernon’s hand. He grinned watching you slip it on before sitting down at the edge of your bed, his forearms resting on his knees.

“We’ve got to be the most fucked up people in this cruel world.” He laughed letting himself fall back onto your bed. You shook your head before sitting down next to him. “Maybe we did something to piss someone off in our past lives and now we’re paying for it.” You shrugged, poking his side lightly making him fold over from the jab that ran through his body.

“Whatever it was...it must’ve been bad.” Vernon mumbled and looked up at your ceiling. The silence raining down over the two of you like a protective shield. Your heart was starting to return to its normal state but the guilt and confusion consumed you greatly. You knew you wouldn’t sleep tonight. You wanted to ask Vernon to stay and keep you company and you almost did as you watched him shut his eyes, peace washing over his body and you wondered what it was like to be held by this new version of him. But you quickly pushed those thoughts aside deciding that there were boundaries you needed to start setting up for both of your sakes.

After all, neither of you belonged to each other anymore.

“Where are you going to sleep?” You finally broke the silence after sitting in it for what felt like hours. He opened his eyes slowly blinking back the sleep as he sat up. “Probably the couch.” He stood up running a hand through his hair before turning to face you. His eyes bore into yours gently and you knew there was something he wanted to tell you but whatever it was it looked like you had to live without knowing because what came out of his mouth was not what you had expected. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He nodded before walking over to your door.

“Goodnight Hansol.” You whispered making him stop dead in his tracks, his birth name falling foreign onto his untrained ears. There was a time in his life where he loved the way your voice danced whenever you said it, but now he realized that he didn’t anymore and that was the hardest pill he would ever have to swallow. So he gave you the gift of a small nod before exiting your room, leaving you behind in your cold bedroom. Your soul felt as if it were in a pool of muddy water and all you wanted to do was call Seokmin, apologize and tell him everything.

“Can you please talk to me?”

You trailed behind Seungkwan as he pushed the shopping cart into the frozen aisle of the grocery store.

A week had passed since you accidentally found yourself pinned against your bedroom door with Vernon. A week had passed since the two of you decided to finally start setting boundaries for one another after Seungkwan had scolded the two of you like teenagers on the couch. Since then he had been giving the two of you the silent treatment. A punishment until you and Vernon came to terms with how wrong your actions had been, or so that’s what Seungkwan claimed.

You knew you had been in the wrong, you knew you should’ve never let it get as far as it did. The disgusting guilt consumed you whenever you saw Vernon wander around the apartment like he owned the place. It tugged on your heartstrings whenever Seungkwan glared at you for standing an inch too close to your ex lover. It feasted upon your flesh whenever you stayed up until the morning dew fogged up your windows, talking to Seokmin. Nothing between the two of you was official yet, and that had been your doing because you couldn’t seem to find a way to confess to him without hurting him and yourself in the process.

“Nope, not until you tell Dokyeom what happened.” Seungkwan huffed, stopping the shopping cart in front of the frozen pizza freezer. It was your weekly movie night. It had surprised you when Seungkwan brought it up in passing over breakfast that morning because you had assumed with how things were going, and now that Vernon had decided to stay, he would’ve cancelled it.

“I will, I promise I will. I-I just don’t know how or when.” You walked in front of Seungkwan and opened the freezer door reaching in to grab the triple cheese stuffed crust frozen pizza. “I don’t want to hurt him.” You sighed as you placed down the large box inside of the cart that was filled with an assortment of junk food.

“That’s the problem BooBoo the fool, you hurt him the second you let Vernon inside your heart again.” He held the freezer door open and reached inside grabbing the frozen hawaiian pizza, making you scrunch your face in disgust. In all the years you had known Seungkwan his taste in pizza was the only flaw he had, though he claimed it was an acquired taste that only the elite understood.

“What am I supposed to do then Kwanie, Vernon will always hold a piece of my heart whether I want him to or not. I spent half a decade loving him and shit like that can’t be forgotten in a few months.” You took liberty in closing the freezer door after Seungkwan had finished grabbing everything else you needed for the movie night. “I feel like you’re being really unfair right now.”

“I’m not saying you should forget about Vernon, the guys living with us for crying out loud. And he is my best friend, but I’m trying to get you and him to realize that your story together is over and has been for a while. It sucks that the two of you got ripped away from one another, but you know how I always tell you that everything happens for a reason?” Seungkwan glanced over at you while you nodded along to what he was saying, “Then there’s a reason why the two of you were never meant to be.”

“And what reason could that be?”

“Let him go and you’ll find out.”

Whoever reserved Wednesday nights as movie nights, deserves the guillotine.

Though as much as you hated that they were planted in the smack middle of the week. You will never complain about it out loud, because you knew it had been your idea to hold them every Wednesday after a very heated argument with Seungkwan that you surprisingly had won. But if you dared to ever mutter out a complaint, he would make sure to never let you hear the end of it.

“One movie, I have to wake up early for my job interview tomorrow.” You pleaded looking over at the clock that hung over the t.v, that also didn’t work. You had promised you would change the batteries to it months ago but forgotten. You suspected that the only reason Seungkwan hadn’t taken matters into his own hands was because he wanted it to serve as an annoying reminder for you.

“Wait, you have a job interview?” Vernon exclaimed in surprise as he walked out of the kitchen in a hurry with the pizza box burning his hands. “Yeah, at the school a few blocks away from here.” You shrugged, throwing the pillows you were carrying in your hands onto the makeshift fort the three of you had tried to create. Keyword tired, it was falling apart the more you stared at it.

“You’re going to be a teacher again?” Vernon’s face lit up as he set down the pizza box onto the coffee table that had been decorated to the T with all the junk food you and Seungkwan brought home. Seungkwan cleared his throat as he came into the living room again, his arms overflowing with all the blankets he could find. He threw them down landing on top of the pillows you had once held in your hands, before crossing his arms in front of him, closely eyeing the two of you.

You rolled your eyes and turned your attention to Vernon who had taken it upon himself to start digging into the hawaiian pizza, “I hope so, a job position opened up last week so I decided to send in my resume and they called me on Monday to schedule an interview.”

“That’s great--ow, bubs, I’m really happy for you.” Vernon said as he fanned his mouth after stupidly biting into the fresh out of the oven pizza. You nodded and turned to face Seungkwan who was glaring at Vernon while he ate his precious fit for royalty pizza.

“Let’s hope I get it, nothing is set in stone yet.”

“They’d be fools to not hire you. You’re amazing. I know they’d fall for you the second they hear how passionate you are about teaching.” Vernon assured as he blew onto his pizza, stopping to look at you for a split second, “I know I did.” He shrugged before tearing his eyes away from yours and taking another bite out of his pizza, making an O shape with his mouth to avoid getting burned again.

It was strange. If Vernon would have told those exact words last week out on the balcony, you would’ve melted at his feet. You would’ve never stopped him from going any further and you would’ve probably tried to erase Seokmin from your mind. But hearing those words escape Vernon’s pink lips now that he stood in your living room arguing with Seungkwan about hawaiian pizza. His words did nothing for you. They didn’t make your heart race, they didn’t make your palms sweat and they didn’t make your ears flare up in heat.

The only thing his words did was etch their way into your heart and fill you up with nostalgia, but not the kind that had you longing for his touch. The kind that made you happy that you had once been able to call him yours once. Maybe it was sign or step one of you finally being able to move on.

“Thanks Soli, I’ll keep that in mind.”

You were pacing in front of the main office for what seemed like hours, trying to calm your nerves down. You figured that moving around was better than sitting still and letting your thoughts race through your head, while you were at stand still. Though pacing wasn’t working either because your interview was scheduled to be at nine and it was nearing ten, and the dirty looks from the receptionist wasn’t helping your case either.

“Jeonghan I don’t know what you want me to do? I already sat down with the two of them and told them violence is never the answer.” The door to the administration office finally opened making the receptionist sigh out a sign of relief. As you scrambled to collect the stuff you had placed down on the waiting chairs behind you, you made a mental note to apologize to her before you left today.

“Seokmin don’t worry about it...I’ll contact the parents and see where we can go from there.” You felt the air catch itself in your throat as you slowly turned around to meet a very worried looking Seokmin. He hadn’t noticed you yet and you hoped he wouldn’t because the last thing you needed was to have him running through your mind during your interview. So, you stood there looking like a deer caught in the headlight while he continued chatting with the other man next to him. His voice filled with concern and it made your heart swell knowing how much he seemed to care about the issue at hand.

“Oh you must be here for the new teacher position right?” An unfamiliar voice sounded making you jump out of your days and thank god it did because you were about to let your mind wander to what having kids with Seokmin would be like. And that was something you weren’t ready to imagine, especially not when he looked good enough to eat in his work clothes.

“U-Um yeah I’m--”

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here?” Seokmin finally noticed you. The excitement in his voice made the heat flare up along your face and you tightened your hold on your things pressing them against your chest, as your eyes traveled from his sparkling ones to the very shocked ones of the receptionist and finally landing on the man next to him who was out of this world confused. “Sweetheart? You two know each other?” He questioned signaling to the space between you and Seokmin with his index finger.

“Hannie this is the girl I’ve been telling you guys about.”

“Oh, the one you never shut up about.” He nodded, sending you a knowing wink. Was there anything worse than your possible future boss finding out you were in cahoots with one of his teacher’s before actually getting the job? Probably not because you were currently wishing for the ground to swallow you up. But it made you feel a little better knowing Seokmin was wishing the same thing, judging from the redness of his cheeks.

“I-I’m here to get interviewed for the new teacher position.” You nodded reassuring yourself more than anything. “I didn’t know you were a teacher, I thought you owned a pottery studio?” You looked at Seokmin who was cutely rubbing the back of his neck as he giggled underneath his breath. Your heart convulsing and now you weren’t so sure you wanted the job if it meant having your heart erupting out of your chest twenty four seven, seven days a week.

“I do, but Minghao runs it during the week with our other friend Mingyu. Soonyoung and I are in charge of it during the weekends.” He smiled and took a step forward ignoring the looks Jeonghan and the receptionist were giving one another, and somehow you knew this whole situation was going to be the hot topic of the week in the teacher’s lounge. “I’m really glad you’re here.” He finally closed the distance before pulling you in for a hug, “I’ll make sure to put in a good word for you.” He whispered before kissing your temple lightly and pulling away.

“Alright, lovebird you have a science class to teach and I have an interview to conduct.” Jeonghan voiced shooing Seokmin with his hands making your sweet lover boy laugh.

“Good luck baby.” Seokmin threw you a kiss before exiting the main office, the door closing in behind him. Leaving you alone and deserted with your smirking future boss and nosey receptionist. Your nerves had subsided to almost nothing but now your mind was consumed with Seokmin and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive your interview without letting your mind wander to the loving future that was creeping up on you.

Jeonghan huffed and turned on his heels signaling for you to follow him, “I hope you know that just because my best friend and one of my teachers is head over heels for you, doesn’t mean you get special treatment. I still need to make sure you’re right for the job, and let me tell you sweetheart you have competition.”

“I didn’t expect you to go easy on me anyway.”

Jeonghan closed the file he had in front of him before lacing his fingers together on top of them and leaned forward, eyeing you closely. “Can I give you some advice?” Jeonghan titled his head, his glasses that didn’t have lenses sliding off the bridge of his nose. The entire time he was interviewing you had tried your best to not laugh at his ridiculous antics. But seeing as this was your first and most likely last time you were going to see him, you figured that you would keep it to yourself for now.

“U-Um yeah...of course.” You rushed out a little too eagerly, your nerves once again getting the best of you. They had been in control for the twenty minutes Jeonghan had been interviewing you, but now as he stared you down, you felt your nerves coming crashing down like an ocean wave.

“I’m hesitant on hiring you, your track record is spotless and you’re probably the best candidate for the job--” He sighed and ran a bony hand through his dark hair while leaning back in his chair. You knew your rejection was coming but you didn’t expect it to be so soon. You were hoping to at least make it home cry about how awful your interview had gone before burying yourself in a pint of cookie dough ice cream while Seungkwan lectured you all whilst simultaneously trying to keep your hopes up.

“--But I don’t know how I feel about two of my teacher’s dating, especially if you’re going to have the evidence on full display.” He raised his pen and pointed to the side of your neck where you knew Vernon’s evidence was still on you, a reminder of the sin you had committed a week ago. Your eyes grew wide as you panicked and slapped your hand on the side of your neck. A smirk appeared on Jeonghan’s face as he smugly crossed his arms in front of him. The realization hit you a little too late because now it became clear that he was only testing you and sadly you had failed.

“I’m sorry, um...I--I.” You shook your head, your hand falling down slowly and landing on your lap. There was nothing you could say in order to fix your mistake, you could only hope that Jeonghan wasn’t one of those people who loved to gossip because the last thing you wanted was to ruin a relationship that hadn’t gotten the chance to blossom. “Can you please not tell Seokmin.” A soft whisper fell from your lips, aware that you were throwing yourself under the bus, but what else could you do? You had already lost the job, you didn’t want to lose Seokmin as well, at least not yet.

“Ah, so it’s not from Dokyeom...bummer I was ready to tease him about it all week..” He shrugged and leaned his elbows on his desk along with his body. “So you’re two timing him? And here I was starting to believe that our precious Dokyeom had finally found love.” He tsked, shaking his head, “I must say I’m incredibly disappointed, I thought I was the cruel one.”

“No, no, no, it’s not like that, it’s just--,” Your hands had started to shake on your lap, underneath Jeonghan’s amused stare. “--it’s complicated, more than you can imagine.” The confession stumbled out and you heard him let out a dry laugh.

“I have no doubt in my mind that whatever the situation is, is not an easy one but I suggest figuring your shit out before roping in one of my friends. Dokyeom has been through enough and I have no idea how he still keeps that smile of his on his face knowing the shit he’s been through.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I know you don’t believe me but I have been trying.”

“You’re right I don’t but I’m also not the one that needs to believe you.” He shrugged standing up from his chair and rounded the corner of his desk, stopping in front of you and leaning against it. “This isn’t a conversation you and I need to have, and all I ask of you is to have it with the person that’s meant to hear your words.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” you nodded and smoothed down the wrinkles of your dress. “Thank you for the interview.”

“Cheer up princess.” He laughed and extended his hand in front of him for you to take. You looked up at him hesitantly before grabbing his hand and letting him pull you up. “You got the job.” He smiled before letting go of your hand and walking towards his office door leaving you behind as you tried to figure out if you heard him right. “Now come on it’s almost lunchtime, I’m starving and we have a ton of paperwork to sign.”

“Wait you’re not shitting me are you?”

“If I was, I would’ve told you to leave the second you answered my first question, now let’s go.” He signaled you over while opening the door. You scrambled tripping over the leg of the chair you had just been sitting in making him roll his eyes. Now you understood why he had called himself the cruel one because Yoon Jeonghan was quite literally the reincarnation of the devil.

“Excuse my language but you’re an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse sweetheart.”

“Are we celebrating?” Seungkwan’s voice excitedly boomed through the speaker of your phone as you climbed up the steps of your apartment building. After you had gone through the mountain of paper’s that Jeonghan and the school district had you signing. You had declined his offer on having lunch with him and all the other teachers, giving him the poor excuse of already having lunch plans with your best friend. You could tell he wanted to say something but instead he bid you farewell before telling you to come over on Friday after school for a tour of the school, as well as to show you where your classroom was going to be. “Please tell me we’re celebrating, I already sent Hansol to buy the cake, the streamers, balloons, champagne and the pizza.”

“I get my classroom on Friday and I start next Wednesday.” You voiced while punching in the code to enter your building, the buzzer sounded indicating that you could enter the lobby. You heard screaming from the other side of the phone followed by shushing noises. “Focus on your job Kwanie.”

“But this is more exciting,” He whined, making you shake your head in disbelief. If Seungkwan wasn’t the best entertainment lawyer at his firm you were sure he would’ve been fired ages ago. “How’d the interview go, I’m guessing good because now you’re employed.”

“It went awful, trust me I was expecting to still be unemployed.” You pressed the button to the elevator, watching as the numbers counted down slowly. The anticipation of getting into your bed again was killing you as the numbers got closer to the ground floor. “Then how do you have a job now?” Seungkwan questioned before letting out a gasp at the same time the elevator dinged announcing it’s rival. “You didn’t...you know, do inappropriate things to get the job did you?”

“I’m offended that you’ve known me for years and yet still think so lowly of me.” You entered the elevator and pressed the number to your floor, leaning against the elevator railings and watched as the doors closed in front of you. “Of course I didn’t.”

“I don’t know after what happened last week, I feel like I don’t know you anymore.”

“Jeonghan lectured me already about this after my interview. I don’t need you hanging it over my head again.”

“Wait bubs, who’s Jeonghan.”

“Oh, my boss.” The elevator stopped and slowly opened its doors. You pushed yourself off the wall and walked out, bringing your purse in front of you to fish out the keys to your apartment. “I think you two would get along, you're both equally as cruel.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult, but I don’t have time to be offended because now I’m just confused. How does he know?”

“Surprise! Seokmin is my co-worker and I ran into him before my interview--”

“He’s your coworker and your future baby daddy. This is wild bubs I would not like to have a love story like yours… no offense.”

“Whatever Kwanie, the point is the demon that is my ex boyfriend left a hickey on me last week and it still hasn’t gone away. So my boss saw, lectured me about it and somehow I ended up with the job.” You sighed, dropping your key back into your purse and pushed your already opened front door with the toe of your shoe. Vernon always had a habit of never closing the door completely and it had terrified you a few times, especially when word got around that there was a serial robber on the loose in the area the two of you used to live in.

“Maybe you heard wrong, are you sure you got the job?” Seungkwan questioned and you could almost picture the raise of his eye brow along with his scold. “This doesn’t sound like you got the job to me, maybe you should call them just to make sure.”

“I got it, I already signed all the paperwork.” You shook your head toeing off your shoes, noticing that Vernon’s vans were missing, which meant he still wasn’t home and you had maybe a few minutes of peace to yourself.

“This all sounds a little too suspicious now, but congratulations I’m proud of you...I guess.”

“Thanks you’re the best, I’ll call you later I think I’m going to shower so I can contemplate all my life choices.” You said holding your phone between your ear and shoulder as you placed your stuff down on top of the kitchen counter. “Also pizza two days in a row are you okay?”

“I’m fine, can’t say the same thing about you though.” He scoffed. “I’m going now I hope your shower makes you realize how stupid you have been lately.” He spoke before hanging up without letting you get a word in. Sighing you brought the phone down from your ear setting it down next to you. Your thoughts were jumbled and jumping around from one thing to another. You wished you weren’t so scared of confessing something to someone, especially if that someone was starting to become the reason why you kept waking up and getting out of bed every passing day. But you also knew you were hurting him more letting the days pass and keeping him in the dark. Needless to say your life had become a mess in the span of a few months and some days you found yourself wondering how you could return it.

Jeonghan told me…

Your phone buzzed making you jump. You grabbed it quickly watching as Seokmin’s contact name stared at you brightly, along with his message making your heart race. You cursed at yourself for trusting that the snake would keep your secret sealed behind his thin lips. And maybe he had hired you out of spite but whatever it was you were already typing your overdue apology in hopes you could at least salvage the tiny piece of Seokmin’s heart that he had selfishly given to you.

Congratulations baby, dinner on Friday to celebrate?

Your fingers stopped as you let out an embarrassing sigh of relief, silently apologizing to Jeonghan. Quickly you erased the few sentences you had managed to write out before typing out a reply. You weren’t sure what spirit had possessed you but, who's ever it was, gave you the confidence you needed to hit send, because you knew what you were about to do was going to possibly ruin whatever relationship you had with Seokmin or save it. But you were tired of walking on eggshells not only around him but also around Vernon. He needed to know and you needed to finally let go.

I’ll cook, I want you to meet some people.

Vernon walked into the apartment with everything Seungkwan had sent him out to get before leaving for work that morning. The bags he had been carrying for blocks were cutting the circulation in his arms, his fingers burning sweetly from the plastic. How they hadn’t fallen dead on the sidewalk a couple of blocks back was a mystery to him, and in truth the pain didn’t bother him until now, while he toe-d off his shoes as fast as possible. He felt his arms start to give up so he dropped them, like he usually did and let out an enormous sigh of relief. The circulation coming back into his arms at a rapid rate.

He stretched his hands out mumbling incoherently. Coming to a stop when he saw your distressed form leaning against the fake marble of the kitchen counter. Phone clutched tightly in your palm, breaking the circulation, much like the plastic bags had done to him. Before, he could stop myself, he ran over to you. Stumbling over his shoes. The groceries and the tingling feeling on his fingers, from the blood returning to them, long forgotten. All he could think about was you and what was going through your mind.

Without hesitation he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face into your neck as he felt your body grow stiff against his. The pang hitting him like a wave of unwanted air giving his heart a run for its money. “Are you okay?” He whispered bringing you close, hoping his comfort would somehow bring you at ease. He was never really good at comfort. He had learned that early on in your relationship, but he always tried as best as he could. Affection had been his major weak point, but now that he had lost you it had become his strongest suit.

“No Vernon, I’m not.” You swallowed the lump of anger that had been lodged into the back of your throat before gripping his arms with your hands and prying them off. Vernon was taken back, the void returning to his chest and you tried your best to shoulder past him. “You almost costed me my job today.” His arms fell at their sides, your words catching him off guard.

No matter how many arguments the two of you had had during your past relationship, he had never heard you use this before. The venom became permanent, interweaving itself with the strings of your vocal chords and for the first time he had realized that he had finally lost you.

“Me?” He questioned, standing dumbfounded. A shaking finger coming to view pointing to his chest. “What do you mean I almost ruined your chances at you getting a job. I’ve only been home and at the grocery store?”

Vernon ran a wary hand through his dark looks, the confusion written all over his face when you glanced at him and pushed past him a little too forcefully. He tried to recall anything he could’ve done for you to look at him in such an unpleasant way, but his mind came to a halt stopping in front of a white wall. All he could remember was trying his best to stay away from you and failing.

Every night he sat in front of your bedroom door while you talked on the phone for hours. He missed the sound of your laugh. He knew it was never going to be directed towards him anymore, but he would never get tired of it. At least it was a distraction, as unpleasant as it may have been at times. His life was ruined and his search for cheap apartments big enough for himself was starting to become a bust.

He wasn’t stupid. As much as you and Seungkwan had tried to mask your distaste for his return. He knew he wasn’t welcomed and he was made more aware of it now that he could feel your anger caging him in.

“This Vernon!” You yelled as he came out of his daze. His eyes widened when he saw you unbutton the first few buttons of your blouse, the nude of your bra peeking out making him swallow thickly. “This is why I was almost not hired today.” You pointed at the faded hickeys he had left behind. A year ago he would’ve smirked while making a slick comment before attacking you. The giggle would fall out of your lips as he led you to the couch while he deepened the lovebites he had previously made.

Now he stayed put, watching the angry tears fall from your eyes and instead of feeling sorry. He was now starting to shed his calm composure letting it get replaced by a year’s worth of anger. He let it consume him, because he had had enough.

It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair that you and Seungkwan were faulting him for something that hadn’t been entirely his fault.

“Did you get undressed in order to get the job? Were you really that desperate. Did he not like the fact that you were whoring yourself around when he saw another man’s mark on you?” He spat out, barely processing what he had said. His fist balling up at his sides while yours did the same thing. “I knew you were capable of things but this is a new low that I should’ve seen coming.”

Vernon had never once said anything hurtful to you, he had given silent treatments, left the house in fits of rage; but never anything hurtful. You were caught by surprise, your heart beating out of your chest angrily and tears flowed at a rapid rate. This was a new side of him and you supposed he was also seeing a new side of you. It made you wonder if you had truly known one another as well as you once prided yourself in.

You forcefully threw down your stuff onto the coffee and took fast, long strides over to him. “Fuck you Vernon, I wish I had never met you.” You forced out jabbing your index finger into his chest as hard as you could, hoping you’d be able to hurt him even further like he had done to you.

He stayed, not budging, looking down at you with an overwhelming amount of disgust. “You’ve ruined my life.” The whisper escaped your lungs before you could stop it, but the damage had already been done. The two of you had been stripped off of everything, left with nothing. Two once perfect colorful arrays of canvases now painted white. What more did you have to lose?

“And you’ve ruined mine.” He emphasized, making sure each word, each syllable was laced with the same amount of poison he was being consumed with. He wanted them to take a piece of your soul. The same way yours did with his.

It was the final blow he needed to deliver to finally be able to walk out of your life for good. To finally forget the way your presence had his heart doing somersaults. To finally realize he was and had never been yours to begin with.

Vernon shook his head in disbelief blinking back the angry tears. He grabbed your wrist and slowly peeled your fingers away from his shirt he hadn’t noticed you were clinging onto. His body was shaking just like yours. Emotions he was now experiencing for the first time consuming him slowly. He pushed you away gently, a stark contrast from the hurtful words he had said earlier and quickly made his way to the front door. Hastily putting on his shoes, mumbling underneath his breath. He ignored the groceries again, and tripped over every miscellaneous item that was decorating the floor as he opened the front door.

Déjà vu hit you like a tsunami, shaking arms wrapped around your torso, sobs falling out of your mouth as you watched him leave just like you had many times before. This time he didn’t love you enough to want to come back.

When the world had once still revolved around you and Vernon, your fights would never last as long as this one had. It had lasted two days and six hours, but who’s counting?

You were avoiding one another like the plague not wanting to admit fault.

“Are you spaced out again?” Seokmin’s voice sounded through the speaker of your phone. You don’t know when the nightly facetime calls became routine, but they were the only thing you look forward to now. Especially after the nasty argument with Vernon two days and six hours ago.

“Sorry Min.” You shake your head and turn to the side bringing your blanket up to your chin. “What were you saying again?”

“I’m sorry we had to move dinner to tomorrow night, I forgot I had to babysit my nephew.” He pouted at the camera before turning his attention back to washing the dishes he had used for dinner.

Since the two of you hadn’t been able to physically have dinner together to celebrate, you figured that having dinner with him through facetime was better than nothing. To keep him company of course and not because he filled the void you had been feeling for days on end.

The entire time you were holed up in your room and witnessed how gentle he was when it came to his nephew. It made the butterflies in your stomach dance to the beat of their own drums. Once again you found yourself pushing the thought of Seokmin and children away. It was too soon.

“Don’t apologize, I enjoyed watching you struggle with Minjae. Personally, baby, I’m a fan of when he calls you Min Min.” Seokmin laughed. His smile reached both ends of his face as he turned the faucet off. He dried his hands on a kitchen towel before grabbing his phone. “When I went to put him to bed he said you were pretty...and I mean he’s not wrong you’re gorgeous sweetheart.” He winked making the apples of your cheeks heat up with the light pink of baby flower petals.You watched as he shut off the lights and walked out of his kitchen, trudging silently through the hallway before reaching his room.

“Since we’re alone now,” he started shutting the door to his room, “You want to tell me what’s been bothering you for the last few days?” He finished. The small complaint falling out of your lips as you hid underneath your blanket. It was amazing how in such a short amount of time Seokmin had been able to read you like a book from start to finish.

It had taken Vernon a full year to be able to decipher the hidden meaning behind your words.

Vernon...you hated how much he was consuming your thoughts. Even when Seokmin was around. It felt like a curse with no cure. “Just got into a small argument with an old friend.”

“Have you tried talking to them?” Seokmin walked around before placing his phone down and unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. “You won’t be able to fix anything if the two of you haven’t talked.”

“I can’t Seokmin, I said some hurtful things to him and honestly I shouldn’t have said them. I was angry over a situation that wasn’t entirely his fault.” You sighed, removing the blanket from your head and flopping down on your back. “If he didn’t hate me before he does now.”

“I don’t know what happened with your friend, but I don’t think he hates you. Just try and talk to him and clear the air.” He nodded before laying down on his bed, grabbing the pillow and hugging it. “It doesn’t hurt to at least try.”

You smiled and nodded. He looked breathtaking underneath the dim light of his room, “If you’re going to be right all the time, I think I might want a refund...again”

“Don’t say that baby...I’ll let you be right on odd days.”

Saturday night came faster than you had anticipated and somehow you had managed to burn spaghetti.

Your day had been awful and you were hoping that when nightfall came everything would’ve gotten better. Your wish had fallen on to deaf ears because you had burned spaghetti, Vernon was acting like a grade A asshole, and Seungkwan was ignoring you.

When Seokmin had arrived. On time. He had found you scrambling in the kitchen trying to remake your famous (easy) pasta dish. Seungkwan and Vernon were arguing over the correct way to set a table...it was chaos.

Neither of them were correct but you didn’t care enough to correct them. They weren’t talking to you either way.

When you had managed to finally finish dinner. With the help of Seokmin. He had insisted after he saw how stressed out you looked, the four of you sat in complete silence. Seokmin at your side, holding your hand underneath the table, Vernon eyeing him down like he was his prey and Seungkwan mindlessly scrolled through his phone. The clinking of utensils and your heavy breathing was the only thing that was heard.

You wanted to die.

“Um...so I know Seungkwan, but I don’t know you. I’m Seokmin.” He nodded in Vernon’s direction before taking a bite of his pasta. You watched as Seungkwan locked his phone and put it down. His eyes traveled between the two male figures before they settled on yours and you watched as he slightly shook his head.

“I know who you are, you’re the one that she stays up talking to.” He signaled in your direction before setting down his fork and leaning into his chair, crossing his arms in front of him. “I’m Hansol but you can call me Vernon.”

“Cool...so Vernon, how do you know each other?” Seokmin let go of your hand. The warmth and ease you had felt disappearing as you saw the two of them eye each other. As far as you could tell Vernon wanted to eat Seokmin alive and Seokmin was simply driven by his curiosity. “Did you just move in?”

Vernon laughed bitterly before pushing his half eaten plate away from him. “You haven’t told him?” He questioned. The amused evil glint adorning his soft eyes. A look you had never once seen him give anyone and now that it was directed towards you. You were terrified.

“Hansol don’t!” Seungkwan warned. You felt Seokmin’s body stiffen next to you as he looked over at you, an eyebrow raised. “So we’re just going to sit here and pretend we’re one big happy family when we’re all miserable because of her.” Vernon spat out digging his burning gaze into yours. You jumped and looked over at Seokmin who had retreated into himself. His eyes were burning holes into the pasta in front of him.

“Min I-I can ex-”

“What does he mean, what is he talking about?” Seokmin interrupted and pushed his plate away from him. Your appetite was gone and you could only assume everyone else was feeling the same way.

“Tell him. Why don’t you tell him how you were moaning my name a few days ago just like you had done for the past five years.”

You panicked, your body shaking in intervals of five and you tried to look for anything to say but your lies had finally caught up to you. The only thing you could do was drown and keep drowning, just like you had been doing before Seokmin came into your life and pulled you out of the water. Now you were pushed into it again and this time you were positive no one was going to risk themselves to save you.“Seokmin w-wait please.” You threw your napkin on the table and stood up, the corners landing into the pasta sauce as you turned to face Seokmin. You extended your arm to grab his hand, only for him to pull it back, ”You were just toying with me.” The legs of the chair scraping against the hardwood floor made you jump. Your body going into survival mode. “I saw the marks on you but I just assumed I had accidentally gotten carried away.”

“You fucked him too, wo-”

“Vernon, shut up for once please.” You yelled. Your world came crashing down again just like it had on that winter night; in front of the infamous coffeeshop. Both times had been Vernon’s fault.

“I-I can’t be here.” Seokmin whispered, running a bony hand through his perfectly styled hair, causing it to messily stick out in random places. He sighed before pushing his char in forcefully as he gathered the few things he had brought with. He stepped on the soles of his shoes, not caring about how uncomfortable he felt. The only thing that was running through his mind was how he needed to get out and far away from you as possible.

“Why can’t you guys let me handle things at my own pace. I was gonna tell him this is why I invited him but I didn’t want him to find out like this.” You shouted, making Seungkwan and Vernon to look at you as if you were a deer and they were the headlights. You shook your head and stood up running past them and the kitchen towards the door that Seokmin had left wide open. Your vision had gone blurry and you opted out at putting on your shoes. It would be a waste of time and you needed to get to him before he left. You were tired of not fighting for what you wanted and you wanted Seokmin enough that it hurt.

“M-Min please wait! Let me explain.” Seokmin stopped as he was halfway down the first flight of stairs.

“I understood. I told you I would wait for you because I knew something had happened to you. Yet I never pushed you to tell me. I started to fall for you, only to find out that you didn’t care that you never cared. T-That there was someone else.”

“I-It’s not like that.” You ran down the flights of stairs, ignoring the small pebbles digging into the skin of your feet. “H-Hansol was my soulmate, bu-”

“Was?”

“Yes Seokmin he was my soulmate, please just give me a chance to explain everything.” You grabbed his hand and brought it up to your heart that was going a mile a minute. “We aren’t together and haven’t been together for a year...i-it’s just complicated.” You pleaded.

“But you slept with him right after our date I’m guessing?”

“I-I...a...Seokmin please just let me explain. I didn’t sleep with him. When you left he was here and we talked and then one thing led to another but I stopped him because of you. Because I had the most amazing ti-”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better because it doesn’t.” He rolled his eyes and pulled his hand back, stuffing both of them into the pockets of his coat. Goosebumps rose against your skin. You blamed the cool wind of the beginning autumn months but you were very well aware that it was because of the coldness behind Seokmin’s comforting eyes. “Do you still love him?”

“M-Min I-I...um. I-”

“God, I really don’t want to look at you right now, I w-wished I h-had never met you.” He whispered.

Your knees gave up at the realization of his confession and you fell down onto the concrete step of the stairs. You were numbly looking at his worn out shoes as he stood there wordlessly, broken sounds leaving his perfect lips. A breeze blew and you shivered, “I-I’m sorry.” You whispered before he turned around and started down the rest of the flights of stairs leaving you behind.

When Vernon left, you were heartbroken.

When Seokmin left, you wanted to die.

It’s unclear how you made it back into your apartment on the couch under a plethora of blankets, shivering, teeth clattering against one another. You weren’t sure how long you had been out in the cold waiting, hoping for Seokmin to come back and take you into his arms. To hold your shivering body close to his warm one, while whispering the three words you longed to hear most.

I forgive you.

That hadn’t been the case though. You sat out there waiting on the concrete steps as the bitter cold overtook your body, until you couldn’t feel your bones anymore. In the midst of your unwavering head, you had lost track of time. And now you are sitting on your couch, listening to soft shuffles of rushed feets and hushed arguments. Tears frozen onto the apples of your cheeks, staring at the blank wall that sat behind the television set.

“Hey,” Seungkwan’s voice sounded distant as he tried grabbing your attention, shaking you gently.

The inside of your head was a mess, the files of all your memories going up in flames. You wanted out of your head, to look at Seungkwan’s face morphed with concern. You wanted to cry into his arms just like you had done many times before but you were done. You had let other people deal with your problems for you instead of facing them head on. So, you ignored him and his soft voice to stare at the blank wall. At least the wall wouldn’t be used by you.

“I ran you a bath, come on.” He placed his palm on your back rubbing it up and down in a soothing manner. You cringed, shrugging his touch away and wrapped the blankets around yourself tighter, retrieving into yourself. “You’re going to freeze to dea-”

“I deserve it.” You mumbled. A tear trickled down your cheek and you looked down at your shivering hands. He was right, the color from your skin had been drained due to the bone chilling cold from the start of the winter months. But you liked wallowing in the numbness, it served as a reminder of how much you truly fucked up.

“You don’t, now come on before you force me to carry you, you know how weak my back has been lately and you would be doing me a great disservice if I have to carry you all the way to the bathroom.” He said pointedly and tugged on your hands as he stood up taking you along with him. The blankets fell from your shoulders, taking residency on the couch. Seungkwan walked the two of you away from the couch, one of his hands on your back the other holding your arm tightly and tentatively. Almost as if he was afraid that you’ll escape and habituate yourself on the couch again. Your point of focus from the wall was no more, now you were staring around the silent apartment. Your eyes landed on the dinner table, where everything had been left untouched, like nothing had happened. And you wondered if ten minutes had gone by instead of an hour, just like you had presumed.

The sound of rushing water brought you back to your senses as you and Seungkwan entered the bathroom. The lights were dimmed and he had set up the stress relieving candles the two of you had bought on a whim one Sunday afternoon. It was moments like these when you realized you didn’t deserve to have a friend like Seungkwan. A friend would drop everything and be at your side in seconds at the mumble of the first syllable of his name. Once again you were reminded how much better he deserved.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whispered watching him through the fogged out mirror. His long fingers toying with the tiny zipper of your dress, unzipping it slowly, careful not to place his cold palms against your already freezing skin. In a different scenario you would’ve made a sexual innuendo about him seeing you naked, even though he had many times. The two of you lived together and the amount of times either of you had accidentally sleepily walked in on each other either changing or showering was almost laughable. At some point it had become so natural that neither of you strayed away from uninterested pairs of eyes.

“For what?” He raised a brow at you through the mirror. Your dress had now fallen onto the floor leaving you in your matching bra and underwear set. Your arms wrapped tightly around your stomach as you turned around to look at him.

“E-Everything, I’m the w-worst person ever and here you are t-treating me like a delicate flower. I-I don’t deserve you or Vernon or S-Seokmin.” You sniffed blinking rapidly to keep the tears at bay. It was a miracle that you hadn’t ran out of tears considering how much you cried daily. At least three times a week.

Seungkwan let out a laugh and hugged you tightly, his hands brushing the hair away from your face, “You aren’t the worst person ever, right now you might not be your own favorite person or the favorite person of a certain individual.” He pulled back and flicked your forehead gently making you pout, the tears still free falling down your cheeks, his thumbs brushing them away. “I can name a few others that are way worse than you, now get in the bath before I seriously drown you.” Seungkwan treated placing a soft kiss against your forehead. “Sometimes I wish I could take away yours and Vernon’s pain.”

“Then you’d be weighted down even more by pain that doesn’t belong to you.”

“If it gets the two of you smiling again, I’d take the risk any day.”

Seungkwan always keeps true to his word.

While he was aggressively washing your hair, he almost did try to drown you and you had never been more scared for your life.

“This is the last time I let you take care of me.” You pouted bringing your knees up to your naked chest, sending him an almost threatening glare. The tears had stopped along with your shivering, but now you could finally feel the emptiness inside of you.

“That’s gonna be hard, I like taking care of you. It’s like my hobby.” He flashed you a smile before turning his attention back to his almost empty wine glass. You sighed, placing your cheek against your knees watching as he poured himself another generous amount of the overly expensive wine you had bought solely for that night.

“That’s the problem, you shouldn’t like to take care of me, you should’ve kicked me out after my third month here.” You grabbed the bottle from his hand and took a sip from it, cringing at the taste as it traveled down your throat burning slightly. For it to be so expensive you were expecting it to be crafted using grapes sent down from the heavens, but the wine from your corner store was a lot better. Maybe this is where you had gone from in the first place. You had tried to be something you weren’t for Seokmin. Tried to put up a front until you were ready to show him the real you. A foolproof plan that ended up backfiring in the end. You should’ve known.

“Do you remember the first time we met?” Seungkwan took the bottle from your hand and placed it on the floor. He turned to look at you tugging his knees underneath him and leaned an elbow against the edge of the bathtub.

“Yeah, it was New Year’s and you were spending it with Hansol’s family because you and your family weren’t on best terms.” You looked away from his glossy eyes and down at the water surrounding you. You dipped a pruned finger into the water creating a small ripple in the once warm, now lukewarm water.

“Do you remember what you said to me that night before the clock struck twelve.”

You swished your finger around in the water, watching the ripples grow bigger and bigger, your face breaking into a small smile. The first one you had let decorate your face since everything happened. “I said that whenever I felt down I would always think of you because every time I saw you around campus you always had a smile plastered on your face and your head held high.” You said placing your palm against the water surface and then pushing against it watching as the water swallowed your head.

“Do you know how much your words meant to me?” He put down his glass on the edge of the bathtub, “I was going through the worst period of time in my life, my relationship with my family was strained, I was failing my classes and the person I was in love with was getting married but your words helped me get through that time in my life. And that’s why I choose to be there for you always...because you were there for me.”

“Seungkwan I-.” He held his hand up, stopping you from speaking a distant smile plastered on his face as he grabbed the towel next to him and dipped his hand into the bathtub unclogging the drain, creating a tiny whirlpool.

“I know you’re going to tell me that you were drunk and that your words didn’t deserve to have such an impact on me, and that you still don’t deserve my help, but I don’t want to hear it.” He tapped your shoulder signaling for you to stand, in which you obeyed. You watched silently as he wrapped your towel around you tightly, tiny water droplets chasing down your bare arms and legs. “No matter what happens to you, you will always be able to count on me no matter how annoying I might find you sometimes. I will always be there for you, is that clear?” He finished sternly before wrapping his arms around you, hugging you not carrying that you were getting his only designer shirt wet.

“Crystal.”

“Can I ask you a question?” You beamed up at Seungkwan as he tugged you into bed after helping you dry your hair for an hour. If it were up to you, you would’ve gone to sleep right after you changed into your pajamas, but Seungkwan insisted with a nagging finger on drying your hair because “You should never go to sleep with your hair wet unless you want to wake up sick.” Or so he claimed.

“Am I going to have to write a dissertation in order to answer it?” He sat down on the edge of his bed, tugging a leg underneath him, resting his elbow against his thigh, his chin the palm of his hand.

“Nope but you might get mad at me for asking it.” You grinned, positioning your body to the side in a fetal position. Seungkwan rolled his eyes, mumbling how all his hard work in tugging you in had gone to waste and giving you the go head with a small nod of his head.

“Where’s Vernon?”

Seungkwan rolled his eyes before leaning over to turn your light off. “I don’t know. After he brought you inside he ran out saying he had somewhere to be.” He turned the switch leaving the two of you in darkness and silence. “Why do you ask?”

“I want to beat him up for being a jerk.”

“I’ll film it.”

The brightness of the morning sun made you stir in your sleep, making you wish you had listened to Seungkwan when he had suggested that you buy black out curtains, instead of the sheer ones you bought. With a heavy sigh you felt around your bed looking for your phone knowing very well you hadn’t plugged it in to charge. You wanted the battery to drain out that way you wouldn’t anxiously be waiting for a phone call or text that was never going to come.

Frustrated due to the realization you continued your search, digging your palm into your sheets letting them melt between your fingers, wishing the other side of your bed wasn’t cold and empty. But the one person you wanted to be next to you didn’t want anything to do with you anymore.

“Why are you pulling on my hair?”

Your hand came back to you faster than a lightning bolt and you sat up, eyes wide as saucers as you looked down at the last person you were expecting. “Why are you here?” You brought the sheets up to your shirts, covering your arms that were adorned with the thin strap of the tank top you had used to sleep.

Vernon buried his face in your sheets, giving himself a moment to recover from being woken up in such an unpleasant way. He had arrived home two hours ago, took his shoes off in a hurry and rushed to your room. He was met with your sleeping form. Limbs splayed out in all directions, your sheets sliding off your body taking up residency on your bedroom floor.

He smiled feeling the nostalgia take over his body like a poisonous drink. He longed to wake up next to you, with the sheets missing and your arm draped his face, while silent snores fell out of your mouth as you stayed sleeping without a care in the world. He looked forward to those mornings. Especially when he was losing you because it was the only time that felt like nothing was happening. The only time he wouldn’t have to avoid looking at you for fear of breaking down whenever he saw the hurt in your eyes. And as you had slept after the shit show that had happened earlier that night, albeit all his fault. He found himself longing for those few seconds of silence as he watched you sleep.

So, he moved through your room with caution, dodging the specs of light coming in through your window. He picked up your from the floor and carefully placed them on top of you again before sitting down on the floor. His elbow on your bed, chin resting on the palm of your hand and he watched you sleep. The tears prickling in the corners of his eyes, this would be the last time he would be seeing you. At least for a while. He wanted to take everything in, engrave the image of your sleeping face in his mind so he wouldn’t forget about it for a while.

Unaware he had fallen asleep, and now here he was. His heart thumping out of his chest feeling your eyes dig themselves into the side of his head. He could only be honest, his intentions weren’t malicious to begin with, and lying to you always tore him apart. “I came to say goodbye.” He whispered, raising his head. He brought his hands up to his eyes and diligently rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. His vision grew spotty from how hard he had rubbed them.

“Oh...where are you going?” You sat up, resting your back against the headboard. It surprised you how soft your voice sounded as it left your mouth and you could tell it had surprised him too. You like him were expecting the coldness, but instead both of your ears were met with warmth.

“I’m moving back into my parents house, until I find my own place. I was selfish in coming here in the first place. I thought that now because I was alone again we could be together again.” He nodded, focusing on your closet door avoiding your face as the words rushed out of his mouth. “I don’t think we should see each other anymore...at least for a while.” He tore his gaze away from the door and turned to his you. “I’m sorry for everything.”

A veil of silence swallowed your waking bodies, as the rising sun finished its journey and stayed put. The golden hues of the rays illuminated Vernon’s side profile, bringing out the tiny freckles underneath his eyes. They were bloodshot, you could tell he hadn’t slept despite him just waking up, making you feel a little guilty. If you hadn’t prolonged this situation as much as you did then maybe things would’ve been different last night and this morning. Maybe you’d be waking up to Seokmin’s soft touches instead of Vernon’s broken and guilt ridden stare.

“I wanted you here Vernon.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around your legs, resting your chin on top of your knees. “We’re equally at fault, though you had been acting like an asshole and I’m still a little upset with you. It’s not all your fault.” You nodded, skimming your hand down your covered legs and placed it on top of his.

Vernon sighed removing his hand from underneath yours, your touch ignited something inside of him. Something he needed to keep at bay in order to let you go once and for all. “I talked to him last night.” He leaned back on his arms, his fingers digging into the fuzziness of your white carpet. He looked at you through his bangs, smiling at the confusion written all over your sleepy face. “Dokyeom, he’s funny.”

The sound of his name sounded foreign coming out of Vernon’s mouth. You almost convinced yourself you had still been dreaming if it wasn’t for the clattering pans in the kitchen, obviously Seungkwan’s doing. “You’re lying to me again.”

“I only lied to you once and I regret it every waking moment I see you, but this time I’m not.” He said crossing his jean clad legs underneath him, “I followed him after I brought you back inside, he punched me.” He laughed and pointed to the side of his jaw that had started to form a light bruise, making your brows furrow in concern. “It’s not as bad as it looks, my jaw is still intact, plus I deserved it.”

“You did. If he hadn’t done I would’ve.”

“Yeah, and it would’ve hurt more coming from you.” He rolled his eyes brushing off the subject with a swipe of his hand against the air, “I apologized to him and he taught me how to make a vase...did you know he’s part owner of a pottery studio?”

You laughed at the splendor in Vernon’s voice. The awkward air that had been crushing both pairs of lungs subsided, “I did he promised he’d take me one day but I guess it won’t happen now.” You shrugged, a side smile forming against your lips. “I’m a little jealous you got to live out my fantasy.”

“Yeah his hands are big and muscular and soft, I felt safe in his arms as he taught me how to form the shape.” Vernon joked. You rolled your eyes and grabbed your pillow before hitting him with it, making him groan. “That hurt.”

“Good, I was hoping it did.”

“You’re just jealous that he and I share a birthday.”

“No you don’t.” You pouted and laid down again crossing your arms in front of you like a child. The guilt consumed you once again but this time because you had been so focused with your problems that you hadn’t taken the chance to actually get to know Seokmin. You hadn’t actually tried to get to know him better and you couldn’t blame him for what he had told you last night. If you were in his shoes, you would also regret ever meeting you.

“What else did he say?” You voiced, untangling your arms and turning your body to face Vernon’s sitting form. He smiled before standing up and brushing the invisible lint balls from his jeans. He extended his hand for your to take, earning a curious stare from you.

“He wants to see you but first you have to eat breakfast.”

After a very uneventful breakfast that consisted of Seungkwan’s nagging (out of love) and leftovers. The three of you helped Vernon carry his stuff out to his car. It was a bittersweet feeling, to see the same scenario play out the same way it did almost over a year ago. This time neither of you were hurting and longing for one another.

“Get in.” Vernon shouted as he closed the trunk of his car, dusting his hands in front of him. He pointed to the passenger seat door, a wide smile on his face as he rounded the corner and opened the door. “I have to take you somewhere.”

“W-What, but I-I haven’t showered and I’m still in my pajamas.” You looked between Vernon who was holding open the door and Seungkwan who had started looking around, whistling and you realized that whatever Vernon was planning, Seungkwan had been in on it too.

“You look fine, now get in before I get punched again.”

“Kwanie help me please.” You pleaded grabbing onto the sleeves of his coat. Not knowing what was happening or what was going to happen only added to the stress of last night.

“I think I left the stove on, I’m going to go save our apartment from burning down.” He winked peeling your fingers from the sleeves of his coat and shoved you towards the car. “Have fun, don’t stay out too late, you still have to clean your room.” He shouted as he turned around and started jogging towards the entrance of the building.

“I have no choice do I?” You sighed looking at Vernon’s scheming face. He shook his head and signaled you to hurry up with the sudden movement of his hand. “Fine, if I end up dead though I’m coming back to haunt you and Seokmin’s asses.” You mumbled in annoyance, the skin of your legs gaining bumps as a cold breeze blew.

Vernon waited, holding the door to his car open for you as you quickly got into the passenger seat of his car. While you got in quickly desperately seeking some kind of warmth. “Are you ready?” He closed the door gently once he was sure you were fully inside and buckled up, leaning his elbows against the open window.

“To be kidnapped, nope. But I have no choice.”

Vernon stopped his car in front of an unnamed warehouse, unlocked the doors and basically shooed you out of it, “The side door is unlocked.” He said, pointing to an inconspicuous grey door before speeding off and leaving you alone, your heart against your throat.

You stood there in the middle of the parking lot, the bitter cold wrapping around you like a frozen blanket. And for once in your life you wished you had new friends, preferably ones that wouldn’t leave you in the middle of nowhere, in your pajamas and without a phone. You realized you had left it midway through your silent journey in Vernon’s old car. You had reached over for the volume knob turning it all the way down. The song that belonged to one of the mixtapes he had once made disappeared from his failing speakers. He had laughed when you told him, “You won’t need it anyway.” He reassured, pressing his foot on the gas as the light turned to an obnoxious yellow.

Now you were left stranded, cold and fearing for your life, refusing to move from your spot, eyeing the grey door in suspicion and fear. “Come in before you die.” You jumped as the grey door slammed open, revealing a boy with reddish hair and glasses perched on top of his nose, wearing grey paint splattered overalls. You contemplated ignoring him at first but then another cold breeze blew, followed by a few snowflakes and you knew you had no choice, but to follow the boys commands.

“Who are you?” You questioned as you jogged towards him and then past him, your body engulfed with the warmth of the warehouse, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“Minghao, I’m one of the owners of this place.” He said after closing the door behind him making you jump slightly at the sound of metal hitting metal. “You know we’re in the middle of winter, not summer.” He said pointedly, eyeing you down. And you felt stupid although your attire hadn’t been your doing. If it had been entirely up to you, you wouldn’t be wearing sleep shorts, a tank top, a thin sweater and soping house slippers.

“Yeah, it’s a long story.”

“And I’m sure I’ll hear it one day but your lover boy is waiting behind the curtains.” Minghao smiled and wrapped a black winter coat around your shoulders, rubbing your arms gently before pulling away. “He hasn’t slept, so please tell him too once you finish confessing your love to one another or whatever people do after a fight.” He shoved you lightly towards the creme curtains that separated what seemed like an art room from whatever room was on the other side.

“Also if you need to do like gross couple stuff, can you do it in his room and not the living room.” He stated before grabbing a paint brush and sitting in front of a half painted canvas. Nothing had taken shape yet and you wondered if that was his intention or if he was stuck and just decided to paint whatever came to his mind. Whatever the reason was, you’d have to wait because the creme colored curtain was whispering your name at a decibel only you could hear begging you to reveal what was on the other side. So, you did, pulling it back harder than you had intended, your breath catching itself in the back of your throat.

Your eyes traveled around what seemed to be a living room. The navy blue couch had been pushed to the far end of the room, the back resting against the brick wall. A whole wall filled with all the books you could imagine and you found yourself laughably fighting the urge to run your finger tips against all their spines. There was a kitchen, though it looked more like it had never been used, the overflowing sink filled with dishes told you otherwise. And finally sitting in the middle, on a paint splattered dining room table was Seokmin, his bright and pleading eyes taking your attention away from the bags that laid underneath them. A two tier crooked cake sitting in front of him, with the words “I’m sorry,” written in purple icing.

“Seokmin I-” You started but the words escaped your mouth as your feet mindlessly made your way towards him. For a split second you stood in front of him as he looked up at you, his hands shaking on his lap, and you threw yourself at him, hugging him tightly as you buried your face into his neck taking in his scent. Fearing that this might be the last time you would be smelling it, as it almost was. “I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you sooner, but I got scared. I didn’t want you to think of me as different, as impure, used, b-broken. I-I don’t know.” Your words rushed out almost creating an incoherent sentence against his soft skin. You felt him suck in a breath before wrapping his arms around you tightly, his palms running down your back soothingly.

“I’m sorry too I wasn’t completely honest with you either. I know how you felt, it wasn’t easy for me when I first lost the person I loved and I wasn’t expecting to find you so soon that day either at the field.” He whispered, kissing your temple gently before pulling back and brushing the loose strands of hair away from your face. “I told you that I’d wait for you but I think I was telling myself that too.”

“Wait you mean...what...when?” You searched his face for any indication of incenserity but all you found was warmth, longing and love.

“Around spring of last year, we were by the cherry blossoms when it happened.” He nodded and you felt the sting of colorful swirls erupt inside of you. “They left me that day and I haven’t seen them since.” He finished cradling your face in his hands, looking into your eyes with so much intensity you were sure you would melt.

“That’s when it happened to Vernon and I.” You placed a palm against your forehead, your blowing out of their sockets because for the first time since that day everything had started to fall into place.

“He told me last night, we also share a birthday which is crazy.” He said matter of factly, causing a small laugh to escape your lips, “do you think we can maybe start over?” He pouted, brushing the stray tears that had fallen from the corner of your eyes way.

“I’d love nothing more Seokmin.” You whispered and closed the tiny gap between the two of you finally connecting your lips with his, the butterflies erupting in the pits of your stomach. Behind your closed eyelids you could see the colorful burst of emotions harbored deep inside you, turning different shades of blue, purple and pink as the kiss deepened. It was something you had never witnessed before and to say it was overwhelming would be an understatement. You felt on cloud nine and you didn’t want it to stop, but the air was running out of your lungs the quicker the kiss got and you could tell Seokmin was feeling the same way as his chest started heaving underneath your palms, so you pulled back, your pants matching up with his.

For the first time since you met him, your world around you seemed to intensify. Everything was brighter, glowing with a fierceness you had never once experienced. The two of you stayed silent staring into each other’s eyes, your heart hammering against your chest as you noticed the subtle specs of gold that were mixed deep within his dark eyes. You didn’t want to stop looking at them, not when you felt his hand cup your chin to pull you back in for another kiss.

“Do you feel it too?” You whispered, your lips hovering over his threatening to close the gap again.

“Feel what?” He teased, rubbing his nose against yours, heating up the blood in your body. And you prayed he wouldn’t see the slight sheen of sweat that had started to form against your hairline.

“Like you’re home?”

“Yes” The simple three letter word, sent you into a frenzy and you once again kissed him. This time with more fever than the last, because in Seokmin’s arms you finally felt like you could fall.

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