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ring hard launch - blurb
the content we got today just SCREAMS fiancé!harry for me so i came up with this, enjoy !
gif by @sunkissedlouis <3
MASTERLIST | MY PATREON
If there was something that was definitely at the top of your list of favorite activities, was spending time with Harry.
It didn't matter if it was getting groceries, joining him for a bike ride or simply laying on the couch together, every moment that you spent together brought you contentment and joy that you couldn't find anywhere else.
And now that he was your fiancé, it was safe to say that both of you wanted to be glued to each other every single minute.
Harry proposed the morning of New Year's Eve, in the comfort of your home with both of you in your pajamas as you enjoyed homemade breakfast bagels, and it was absolutely perfect.
Ever since, you had been happier than ever, sharing the news with your family and closest friends and enjoying your engagement in private without prying eyes from paparazzi, fans and media.
"We better win tonight," Your train of thought was interrupted by Harry's voice, you were currently heading to the Luton vs Man United game, and even though you couldn't care less about football, your need to be close to him all the time made you say yes when he asked you to join him, "Thank you for tagging along, baby. I know this is not your scene so it's nice you came."
"I'm just here for the drinks and snacks," you teased, watching him roll his eyes at you, "And to enjoy the evening with my handsome fiancé, of course."
"There we go," he smiled now, grabbing your hand and placing a small kiss to the ring on your finger.
Ever since you got engaged, that had became his favorite habit, and it made your heart flutter every single time.
"It sucks that I have to take it off," you said, making him look at you with a raised eyebrow, "The ring, I mean. I have to take it off before we get out of the car, otherwise headlines will go crazy and Jeff is going to freak out."
"Mm-hmm," he paused to think, eyes darting for the road to you, "What if... you don't have to take it off?"
"What do you mean?" you said, noticing that you were about to enter the back of the stadium.
"I mean..." he grabbed your hand again, tugging the ring affectionately, "What if we let the world know about it? I talked to Jeff and the rest of the team last week, they said we could make it public whenever we felt like it, at our own terms. So why don't we do it today?"
Harry parked the car at the spot that was reserved for him and turned to look at you with a wide smile, waiting for your answer.
"Are you sure?" you smiled back at him, noticing the glow in his eyes that almost made you melt.
"Couldn't be more sure, love. Besides, the album is coming soon and everyone is going to connect the dots as soon as they listen to the first song, might as well give them an early heads up."
"Let's do it," you said, leaning over to kiss him, "I feel like everyone is going to focus on the fact that you're finally outside and with brand new hair, they won't even notice the rock on my finger."
Harry rolled his eyes again and gave you another kiss, "I swear to god, woman. You're something else."
You headed inside of the stadium to the VIP suit you were going to watch the game in, walking hand in hand with your engagement ring glistening on your finger, cameras around filming and taking pictures of both of you.
"Do you think twitter is freaking out yet?" you asked Harry as you settled on your seats.
"No idea, baby, I don't use that app," he shrugged, "Do you want anything to drink?"
"Would you get me something fruity that has alcohol that doesn't quite taste like alcohol? That's the only way I won't be bored to death."
"Sure thing." Harry laughed and kissed the side of your head before standing up to get your drink, coming back a few minutes later with exactly what you asked and a bottle of sparkling water for himself.
"So we're rooting for Man U, right?" you asked as you took a sip from your drink.
"Seven years together, months away from getting married, yet you still don't know I'm a Man U ride or die," he put a hand on his chest, "I don't think this is going to work."
"I was just teasing, drama queen," you pecked his cheek, "I know your true loves are Man U, the Green Bay Packers, peas and Fleetwood Mac."
"And you," he winked, making you roll your eyes with affection and take another sip from your drink.
A few minutes into the game, you found yourself quite invested on it, constantly asking Harry about the stuff you didn't understand and getting nervous when the other team was about to score or your team missed a goal.
"Lord, I don't want to watch," you said as a player from the opposite team was getting ready to hit a penalty, hiding your face against Harry's shoulder, "Harry! You're supposed to be watching the game, you've been staring at me for half of it now."
"Sorry, you're just too cute," he kissed the crown of your head, "You can watch now, he failed it."
"Thank god."
By the end of the game, you were both on your feet, cheering as Man United secured a win. Harry was ecstatic, and you found yourself caught up in the excitement, cheering alongside him.
While you were engulfed in your own bubble during the game, cameras has caught up on the ring of your finger, and Harry and you immediately became a world trending topic, with fans speculating whether you were actually engaged or not.
As you laid in bed scrolling through the millions of tweets about the game Harry finally emerged from the bathroom, ready to get in the covers.
"Are you reading about us?" he asked, sliding into bed beside you.
"Yeah," you replied, showing him some of the tweets, "But I don't think it was quite clear for some of your fans, some of them don't think we're really engaged."
"Well, I guess it'll be clear when the album comes out."
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Storm Breaker | (l.jh)
❀ Pairing: Jaeger Pilot!Lee Jihoon x Jaeger Pilot! f.reader
❀ Summary: It’s a known fact Lee Jihoon is one of the best pilots the jaeger Program has. The only problem? He can’t keep a co-pilot to save his life. He thinks you’ll just be another Ranger in the rotation, but you are an unpleasant surprise.
❀ Word Count: 23,373
❀ Genre: Pacific Rim AU, Forced Proximity, Annoyed to Lovers
❀ Type: Smut, Angst
❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.
❀ Warnings: Jihoon is a bit of an asshole, action/fighting scenes, brief descriptions of blood, mentions of offscreen deaths, brief mentions of sick parents, brief mention of having no family, sexual tension, explicit language, A Lot of Pacific Rim Techincal Terms But They’re Explained, terrible humor, a hint of angst, brief depictions of Jihoon being insecure about his childhood, sexually explicit content including nipple play, biting, a total of one (1) spank, oral (f. receiving), the slightest hint of voyeurism mentioned, unprotected sex (don’t do this), multiple orgasms, a lot of spit and cum, cum eating, vaginal fingering, a lot of biting, Jihoon is emotionally constipated and then lets it all out lmfaoooo
❀ A/N: HERE SHE IS. This story takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but you definitely do not have to watch the movie to enjoy it - I’m pretty sure I explain everything in terms of how it works but if something is confusing, please tell me and I will adjust! I hope you enjoy this Jihoon who has been the apple of my eye for like almost three months now. STAY TUNED FOR MY SECOND FIC IN THIS UNIVERSE SHARING CHAN AND WYLIE'S STORY :)
❀ A/N 2: SPECIAL THANKS TO @daechwitatamic for not only collaborating with me on our little corner of the internet, but beta reading this giant piece and constantly motivating me while writing it. I could not be anywhere without you I love u
❀ Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic
❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.
Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀
Jihoon doesn’t flinch when Xander throws his helmet against the wall. The crash is loud, but the reinforced material doesn’t crack under the force of the concrete. It clatters to the floor while Jihoon tucks his helmet under his right arm. Sweat drips down the side of his neck and down his back, but he can’t get to it while in his Drivesuit.
Just add it to his list of inconveniences.
Everyone in the room freezes as Xander storms toward the command center and right for the Marshall in charge, his steps thunderous against the metal floor. Instead of following him, Jihoon leans against the doorframe, watching the way his co-pilot rages, imagining steam coming out of his ears.
“I can’t fucking pilot with him,” Xander screams, stabbing an accusatory finger in Jihoon’s direction. “I refuse to do it. Reassign me.”
Eyes drift toward Jihoon. He ignores them, watching as Xander stops at the command post where both the Marshall and the LOCCENT Mission Controller who just walked them through their kaiju fight stand. Both of them stare at Xander, who is red in the face, chest heaving.
It’s a bit of an overreaction, especially for a team who just dispatched a Category Four kaiju. But it doesn’t matter. Xander isn’t Jihoon’s first co-pilot and he won’t be his last. They rarely last long, a cycle of Rangers who cannot stand to work with him for more than a few fights. Jihoon examines the scratches on his suit, thinking that he needs to get it buffed while the Marshall deliberates how to answer Xander’s demands.
“Ranger-”
Xander cuts off the Marshall. Bold, if you ask Jihoon. “I’ll leave the fucking program if that’s what I have to do. I won’t pilot with him anymore, I don’t care that we can drift. He won’t trust me, he won’t give up the reins and he refuses to let me in. He’s arrogant and pig headed!”
“Pig headed,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “That’s new.”
The Marshall sighs heavily, eyes drifting toward Jihoon, who is still leaning against the doorframe. He lifts a single shoulder in a shrug, unsure what the Marshall expected. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Marshall asks Xander to follow him, gesturing toward the door at the back of the command center that leads into offices.
Silence blankets the room at their departure. At least, as silent as it can get in the jaeger hub. The beeping of machinery and radar is a constant sound under the hum of machinery and the awkward cough of one of the workers in the room. Jihoon raises his brows as if to ask someone to say something. No one does and he nods, dismissing himself.
Laughter trails up the stairs followed by loud steps. He looks down to see Chan and Wylie coming up the stairwell, cheeks flushed and hairlines sweaty from their battle with Dreadfury only minutes earlier. Their team had the assist on the kill, and though they hadn’t landed the final blow, their constant offense had given Jihoon and his partner the time they needed to figure out how to move in.
Chan sees Jihoon and raises a questioning brow, pausing in the stairs. “Lose your co-pilot?” he asks, looking Jihoon up and down.
“How’d you guess?”
“Standard,” Chan and Wylie say at the same time.
They do that a lot, so in sync that despite the fact that they’re two different people, sometimes Jihoon feels like he’s talking to one. Wylie is a little shorter than Chan, but just as furious in personality and attitude. She leans against Chan, cocking her head to the side. It’s not a conscious movement but an instinct, her body naturally attaching to her co-pilot’s. Jihoon knows that level of closeness well.
“Think they’ll just finally get rid of you?”
“Nope.”
“Standard,” they both say in unison again. It’s Chan who says, “Must be nice to get away with murder, Woozi.” He continues up the stairs, clapping Jihoon on the shoulder as he goes. Wylie trails behind him, shooting Jihoon a grin. “One day you’re gonna end up on your ass.”
“That’s fine. You’ll both take me in, right?”
Both of their voices meld as they howl in laughter, passing him and going into the command center, yelling “Nope!”
Despite their teasing, Jihoon smiles. He’s known the pair for years and despite their ability to get under his skin, he’s fond of them. They’re good jaeger pilots, scrappy as they come and vicious in the field. Unlike Jihoon, they’ve piloted their jaeger together from the start, syncing like twin flames and sticking to one another.
It helps that they grew up together, of course. And that they’re in a relationship, one heart, one soul.
Sighing, Jihoon jogs down the rest of the stairs, tired and sore. He needs a shower, food and a fucking nap. He and Xander had been pulling extra shifts, the kaiju activity having increased with the bad weather. He suspects it was also in an attempt to get Jihoon to bond with Xander more and get him to open up, but that hadn’t happened.
That’s the problem with piloting with Jihoon. The more time people spend with him, the less they can stomach the way he resists them in the mental bridge that connects co-pilots. It isn’t that he’s afraid for them to see what’s in his head - they haven’t earned a right to his privacy.
Privacy is important to him.
Murmurs ripple through the cafeteria as he enters, rolling his head to the side to try and workout the kink that is formed there. He glances around and fights the urge to roll his eyes. Word spreads fast when you’re secluded in the Shatterdome with nothing but fucking ocean and giant monsters around you.
As usual, he ignores the stares and whispering. He catches Soonyoung’s eye from afar and shrugs when his friend gives him a questioning glance, earning an eye roll. Not for the first time, Jihoon finds himself wondering why someone like Soonyoung or Wonwoo can’t be his partner.
Drift compatibility.
He knows that’s the answer, but he’ll never stop wishing that pairing jaeger pilots together was a little easier. So many factors go into making people drift compatible and yet he’s yet to find a partner he can tolerate - or tolerate him in return. If it were as easy as picking his friends, he’d have settled with someone long ago.
Brushing away the thought, he heads to his room. It doesn’t matter what he wants. If wishes were horses, everyone would be a rider. He’s pretty sure that one of his former co-pilots had said that - in regard to Jihoon being impossible to work with, of course.
The dark and quiet of his room brings the peace Jihoon craves. He feels the tension melt from his shoulders. He suddenly realizes how tired he is, feeling like parchment stretched too thin over a rough surface. He peels himself out of his clothes methodically, welcoming the chill of the room against his sweaty skin.
He trails to the shower, tossing his clothes in the hamper as he does. Leaving the lights on so it’s only the dull orange glow over his bed, he turns on the shower as hot as it will go. It takes a second, but soon steam is filling the room, choking him as he slides under the stream of water, sighing as the heat of it burns away any lingering frustration for the day.
Tomorrow, he’ll have a new partner. It’s a simple fact and a routine he is familiar with. That’s fine with him - they can keep assigning people to him until they find someone competent. Jihoon isn’t going anywhere.
He has nowhere else to go anyway.
-
“I need you to do me a favor,” Kira says before you can finish stepping out of the jaeger. The Marshall of the Sydney Shatterdome looks deadly serious. You scoff under the helmet, reaching up to unclasp it and shuck it off. Fresh air fills your lungs. It’s hot and tastes like metal in the jaeger bay, but it’s familiar. “And I need an answer quickly.”
“Ever heard of foreplay?” you grunt, helping Maya out of the giant mech behind you. She shoots you a thankful grin, taking off her helmet. Her face is flushed pink, hairline sweaty. “You really just dive in dry, huh?”
“You know my cousin is a Marshall of a Shatterdome overseas?”
You pause. “Yeah.”
“They’re asking for a skilled pilot to pair with one of their Rangers. They sent over the drift profile and you’re the only pilot we have that’s a match.” You frown and she holds out a hand to stop your protest, a crease in her mouth. “Just look over the report and the profile I sent you, alright?”
“I mean, my answer is no. I’m fine here.”
“You are. You’re one of our best teams,” Kira says earnestly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Maya. “But respectfully, your value is needed elsewhere. There isn’t enough activity here to keep a veteran of your status on shift, Blue.”
You feel a flicker of uncertainty. Rarely does Kira use your nickname. It’s too familiar for a military commander of her status, and though you’ve considered her a friend for years, she never uses your nickname on shift. Unless she really needs something from you.
Licking your lips, you hesitate to answer. You don’t want to say she’s right about your skillset and risk insulting your coworkers and other pilots in the jaeger Program, but it’s an accurate statement. The Shatterdome you report to is old - one of the first built in the beginning. But kaiju activity is mostly unpredictable, shifting with the tides. You barely get them once a month anymore, and there are too many pilots who need the practice.
You don’t.
You glance at Maya and she offers a soft smile. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d be my co-pilot forever. Hoped, maybe. But I didn't expect it.”
“Oh come on, I’m with you for life, Maya.”
“Romantic.” Maya’s gaze softens. “Marshall has a point, though. We’re a little… slow here.”
It makes a pang go through your heart. Maya has been your co-pilot since your mother passed away, and though you didn’t go through the Ranger training program with her, she’s the perfect balance to you. You like having her around, and the thought of changing pilots just because someone wants your experience is… unideal.
Sensing your unease, Maya reaches out and touches your forearm, squeezing over the metal of your Drivesuit. Her smile is soft. Knowing. Like she knew that being in the drift with you wasn’t forever, and she’s already saying bye.
“Look,” Kira sighs, bringing your attention back to her. “My cousin really needs a skilled pilot and someone who is a leader and isn’t afraid of working with veteran pilots. They get more activity, and they need someone sharp. Skilled. Strong.”
“I mean, I’ll look over the papers.”
“Thank you.” She steps away. “I need to know by the end of the day, though.”
“Jesus Christ, Marshall. End of the day is in like two hours.”
Her smile is firm. “I know.”
Waving her off, you leave your jaeger behind, Maya trailing after you. She peppers you with encouragement as you walk, steps heavy on the metal catwalk. You don’t respond right away, thoughts trying to catch up with being thrown an offer immediately after slamming a monster back into the depth of the ocean just minutes ago.
You don’t have to ask why you. Drift compatibility alone is important enough to move jaeger pilots around the world from Shatterdome to Shatterdome in order to make the best pairs possible. There aren’t a ton of pilots - especially among the younger ones - at your base that are compatible with you.
Stubborn, Kira had always said. Finding an equally dominant co-pilot that meshes with you is difficult. You suspect that if you were not extremely talented at what you do and a veteran at your base, they might have moved you to an advisory position a long time ago.
Advising is not for you, though. The grind of metal and the heat of the fight is where you thrive, letting your mind go empty, entirely driven by instinct. Instinct was the reason you were so good at fighting kaiju. Your mom had always said you had the instinct of a warrior, and after putting down as many monsters to protect humanity’s coasts, you had to agree.
Maya immediately goes to the shower once you reach your shared room. You dive onto the bottom bunk, snatching the tablet sitting on your night stand. Your eyes squint from the brightness, sensitive in the dim room. Clicking through your emails, you find the reporting and profile from Kira and open it, information unfurling before you.
“Huh,” You muse, raising your brows as Lee Jihoon appears on your screen. “I know your name.”
His profile is impeccable - and so is his skill. Chewing on your lip, you throw yourself onto your cot and flip through all of the materials provided on your potential co-pilot. Veteran Ranger. Highly skilled in combat. Top of his class in the academy.
Clicking on the attachments, you watch the attached videos. There’s clips from his fights in and out of the suit. You find yourself hypnotized by his fighting style. There is a beauty to it, but it’s absolutely lethal. Efficient. There are no extra flourishes, no showmanship. Lee Jihoon fights to kill.
“So why do you need me?” you mutter to yourself, pulling up his past partners. The list is extensive, stretching back to multiple co-pilots over weeks at a time. “Jesus christ. You do not play nice.”
He must not, at least. Half of the pilots assigned to him are only barely compatible. You know it takes more than just matching fight styles, but based on the history glowing at you from the screen, Jihoon’s Marshall was doing anything they could to keep him, even if it meant pairing him with someone who was scoring as low as 54% compatible.
Pulling up your side-by-side analysis, you whistle. 98% was a good fucking number. You’d only ever had 90% with your mom, and she was genetically linked to you. Still, with as many partners as Jihoon has had in the past year alone, you don’t know that it’s worth it, even if his base has more kaiju activity and looks to be in need of veteran fighters.
Sighing, you close the tablet and throw it on the pillow. Resting your head against the metal wall, you close your eyes, thinking. You’re happy where you’re at. You’re a leader here, and you like Maya as your partner. She’s young and eager to learn - and you like your jaeger. Shadow Stalker is a good suit, though a little older.
Biting your lip, you grab the tablet again, opening the jaeger details on Jihoon’s profile. Newer model. Built for endurance. Equipped with multiple blades, suited for pilots who prefer sword-style fighting. She’s painted gray-blue like the deepest part of a storm - blue like your mother’s first jaeger, which makes you grin.
Storm Breaker. It’s a good name for a jaeger and it matches the profile. She’s built to withstand the brutal waves of the deep ocean and the onslaught of a high-category kaiju. Your interest is piqued, curious about Storm Breaker and her brutal pilot.
Closing the tablet again, you stare into the distance, thinking. “What’s your deal, Lee Jihoon?”
-
Jihoon hates sparring with Chan almost as much as he hates sparring with Wylie. Chan doesn’t scratch at Jihoon like a feral cat like Wylie might, but he does bite, which is exactly what he does when he can’t get out of Jihoon’s hold.
“You fucker,” Jihoon hisses, letting him go. Chan slips out of Jihoon’s grasp and rolls to his feet a few feet away, crouched low and ready to go again. Despite years of being a jaeger pilot, Chan nor his co-pilot have fallen out of their scrapy upbringings, fighting like two street orphans. “What, are you going to bite a kaiju if you can?”
“Of course not. I just don’t like losing to you.”
“Too bad.” Jihoon straightens and lifts his fists, planting his feet firmly. Sweat slicks the back of his neck, wispy pieces of hair escaping his hair tie and sticking to damp skin. “No more biting.”
“No promises.”
Somewhere behind him, Jihoon hears Minghao shriek. “She bit me!”
Scratch that. Maybe Wylie does bite.
Chan comes at Jihoon again. He’s a good fighter and he’s ruthless. It’s one of Jihoon’s favorite things about him. But there’s always an opening, always a moment between fluid movements that reveals itself that Jihoon can take advantage of.
He does exactly that, going on the defense, watching and waiting for the moment. When it reveals itself, Jihoon strikes lightning fast, catching Chan in the chest hard and taking him down to the ground. Jihoon feels the wind leave Chan’s lungs as he coughs hard, head smacking the mat.
Behind them, Jihoon hears the collective wince. Chan is dazed for a second, groaning underneath Jihoon’s hand pressed to his chest. He can feel the hammering of Chan’s heart, a little faster than his own. When it’s clear Chan isn’t going to claw at him, Jihoon stands and offers him a hand.
With a heaving sigh, Chan takes it. Jihoon claps him on the back, grinning as Chan tries to catch his breath, rubbing the back of his head. “That hurt.”
“Oops.” Chan looks over Jihoon’s shoulder and grins, causing him to turn around and follow the younger’s gaze. Wylie sweeps her feet under Mingho’s, knocking him to the mat. She pounces like a creature from hell before he can react, pinning him down. “Well, at least one of us didn’t get our ass beat today.”
“Stop biting, Dino,” Jihoon says as they trail off the mat, a warning. Chan has the decency to look chagrined, bowing slightly to his superior. Jihoon adores the kid, but he will not serve as a chew toy.
Grabbing a water, Jihoon sits down on the floor with Seungkwan, Soonyoung and Seokmin as Junhui and Minghao trade places. Minghao is nursing a scratch on his neck from Wylie’s nails, muttering about her being a demon straight from hell as he sits. Wylie gives her new opponent a wicked grin, taking her place on the mat and beckoning Junhui toward her. Jihoon shakes his head, gulping down water and leaning back on his hands.
“Fresh blood,” Soonyoung notes, gesturing toward the training room entrance as the Marshall leads a group of people in. “They’re holding trials for the two new mark fives tomorrow. Wanna go?”
“No.”
Soonyoung laughs. “Come on, they might be looking for another partner for you too.”
“Don’t care.”
“You can’t keep going through partners, man.”
Jihoon doesn’t react, eyes scanning the group of cadets. They all look fresh-faced and in awe as they’re led around the mats, wide eyes glued to the sparring pilots as they go. His eyes settle on you, though, pausing.
You don’t have the same awestruck wonder as the other cadets, trailing behind them as your eyes scan the structure, the fighters and the equipment around you. Calculating. Critical. You’re a little older than the other cadets too - not in looks but in aura, chin lifted, gaze sharp. Experienced.
Soonyoung follows Jihoon’s line of sight and straightens. “Woah. Who is that?”
“My new drift partner,” Seokmin sighs dreamily. Soonyoung and Seungkwan smack him at the same time, offended. They’re one of the few triple pilot groups, operating a massive piece of machinery made for slaughtering and hammering down on high-grade kaiju. “What? Look at her!”
“You shouldn’t fuck your co-pilot,” Seungkwan mutters. “Look what happened to Seungcheol and Cherry. She’s still at that training facility in Alaska. Didn’t come back after their drift glitched.”
A collective hum goes through them. All of them recall that situation, but no one says a thing. The weight of Cherry’s absence sits heavy on them - even Jihoon misses her a little.
“I don’t know,” Soonyoung notes cryptically, eyeing Wylie. She’s managed to get Junhui off his feet, slamming him down with a rattle of mat and springs, pinning him with a savage growl. Wylie Coyote indeed, Jihoon thinks, smirking. “Seems to work for Wylie just fine. God, look at Chan, he literally has heart eyes. Disgusting.”
It’s true. The pilot in question sits at the edge of the mat, elbows resting on top of his knees as he watches his girlfriend with his mouth open, lips upturned a little. His eyes are dazed, focused on Wylie as she holds onto a thrashing Junhui. There’s so much love in his gaze that Jihoon averts his eyes, worried he’s observing something sacred and private.
“Not everyone is like them,” Seungkwan shoots back. “They share a brain cell.”
“We’re literally drift partners. We basically do the same thing.”
“And yet I don’t want to fuck you, Hoshi.”
Soonyoung cocks his head to the side. “You know, that brings up a valid question-”
“No,” the other three say at the same time, cutting him off before he can get going.
Still, Seungkwan’s point is valid. The drift is something that is so intimate that it isn’t uncommon for copilots to have a romance or some sort of tension. The neural handshake makes you become one, unable to hide anything. It is inviting someone else into your head to see everything you see, everything you have seen. Memories, feelings, thoughts - nothing is yours anymore.
Jihoon hides it all from his co-pilots. He knows he’s not supposed to - openness and being honest and true with your partner makes for a better drift. But the intimacy of the connection makes him uncomfortable, and he’s not ready for anyone to see him - really see him.
So he hides in the drift. Knows how to bring nothing to it, to give only the parts of himself he has to in order for his partner to fight alongside him. Jihoon gives nothing more. And they don’t need it, frankly.
The Marshall leads the new recruits back out of the room. He watches you go, wondering what your deal is. As though you sense his eyes on you, your eyes flicker over to his, catching his gaze. He’s unsure why, but he pauses, the room stilling for a split second. Then you’re grinning wickedly, vanishing from the room.
He brushes it off and turns his eyes back to his friends.
-
Lee Jihoon is prettier in person. You don’t know why it’s the first thing you notice as you watch him walk across the training center. He’s dressed in fitted cargo pants and a racing jacket over a t-shirt, emphasizing his broad shoulders. His hair is bleached and pinned into a low bun, some of his bangs hanging in his dark eyes. He doesn't notice you watching him as he nears an empty mat, shedding the jacket.
He’s compact. Small, but toned, muscles rippling as he begins to go through a series of stretches. You know he’s a good fighter from your observations the day before. Everything about him screams efficiency. You can’t put your thumb on it, but the way he carries himself is methodical.
Lee Jihoon is the perfect jaeger pilot on paper.
It’s the partners that he has a problem with. He’s had eight co-pilots in the last year alone, which is more than anyone has the right to. Before that, he managed to keep someone for six months before they requested a transfer to a different location.
You sense Jihoon’s gaze, realizing he’s picked up on your staring. His expression is as neutral as it was yesterday, as though he has zero interest in whoever you are. He must not - he turns away and gets back to what he was doing, the moment passing without fanfare.
Everyone in the room is paired with their pilots, going through fight sequences. You watch the different pairs, noting those who exhibit high-drift compatibility and others who are still learning. You note how many talented pilots this base has, likely due to the high activity.
As though the thought summons the very creatures from the depths of the ocean, an alarm goes off. You don’t flinch, used to the kaiju alert system. It had gone off the day before, though. You look up at the screen as it flashes the names of the pilots on duty, calling them to report to the drop bridge.
A few shouts of good luck draw your attention to the center of the room where two of the younger pilots head out. You’d seen them sparring earlier, so in time with one another that you weren’t sure where one began and one ended. The man looks at the girl and gives her a smile so full of love that you look away, startled at its intensity.
While romantic connections between pilots aren’t totally uncommon, you’re not used to it. Most of the Rangers at your old base were family members and childhood friends, connection deep and intimate but not like that. You wonder what it must be like, if it makes love any easier to be that deeply connected.
“So are you my new co-pilot?” a soft voice startles you and you turn to see that Jihoon has snuck up on you. His eyes are darker in person, entirely consuming as he looks down at you with a cocked head. His blonde hair sticks to his forehead, pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat. “You must be, right?”
“What makes you think that?”
“You’re not a cadet. And you’ve been watching me for the better part of two hours.”
You shrug. “You can learn a lot from watching veterans.”
“You could at least offer to spar to see if we’re any good together.”
“You mean to see if I’m good enough for you.” He lifts a shoulder, not disagreeing with you. Wiping your palms on your knees, you stand up. Even though he’s small, you’re still a little shorter than him, nearly eye level. You stick your hand out, giving him your name. “But you can call me Blue.”
Instead of taking your hand, he nods and turns on his heel, striding back to the mat he occupied earlier. You stand and stare at the newly vacated spot, hand held out in the air. “Alright,” you mutter to yourself, dropping your hand and going after him.
Eyes follow you. You can feel them as you trail after him, watching his smooth, even gait. Everything about Jihoon is refined and controlled, even down to the minute expressions as he steps onto the mat and turns to face you. Sliding your shoes off, you join him, feeling the spring beneath your step and the softness of the floor.
Jihoon heads to a rack of bo staffs, picking one up and tossing it to you. You snatch it, spinning it lightly to test the weight. The balance is near perfect, a slight weight to the left side. You adjust accordingly, grip firm. Jihoon does the same, spinning his staff and rolling his shoulders.
“Who were those pilots called to make the drop?” you ask, conversational.
“Dino and Wylie.”
“Good pilots?”
He takes his stance. “Excellent. They’re terrors. It won’t be a problem for them. Are you right handed or left handed?”
“Ambidextrous.”
“Good.”
You don’t know why, but his assessing gaze bothers you suddenly. Like you know that even though you know you’re an excellent fighter, it still won’t be enough for him. The thought that you’ve lost before you even begun pricks a nerve and you strike first.
It’s immediately obvious why you’re compatible. Jihoon knows your next move before you know what it is. You feel him move like an instinct, imagining his attack and defense before it happens. It isn’t a fight, but a dialogue, two skilled fighters communicating in a pattern only familiar to them.
Sweat slicks the back of your neck and back. You barely register it, losing yourself in the rhythm of Jihoon’s movements. The sound of the training gym fades to the background and you barely hear the crack of your staffs as they meet over and over again. You hardly see him, vision fading to a narrow point of instinct.
This is how you fight. Muscle memory, driven by intuition.
Your intuition tells you that you’re perfectly matched, fighting style so similar that it’s hard to get a hit in - you won’t get a hit in, too in sync with him to out maneuver him.
So you deviate.
Instead of dodging a smack to the ribs, you let him hit you. His surprise is so apparent that he breaks his concentration and you strike, foot sweeping behind his ankle and pulling, knocking him from his feet. Jihoon goes down hard, breath leaving his lungs as you pounce, pinning him.
For a second, it’s just the two of you. His heart pounds, chest heaving in time with yours. Even your breaths are evenly matched, a tempo that is deeper than most human understanding. Drift compatible. You feel it the same way you feel the spark of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. You’re so aware of it that you don’t hear what he says at first, his mouth moving but no sounds coming out.
“What?”
“That doesn’t count,” he asserts. “I hit you first. The fight is over after that.”
You frown. “The fight doesn’t end until there’s a killing blow. A swipe to the ribs wouldn’t do it.”
“That isn’t how that works.”
“There are no rules of engagement in the ocean.”
He scowls. “There are basic principles to fighting. You lose when you get hit first.”
“Do you lose when a kaiju hits you first? Or do you keep fighting?”
Jihoon huffs underneath you, shaking his head. You’ve still got him pinned, your palm pressed to his chest and your knee planted in his stomach. He glances away from you and you become aware that everyone has stopped to watch the two of you spar.
And you’re still on top of him.
Clearing your throat, you climb off of him smoothly. You offer a hand to help him up but he doesn’t take it, getting up on his own. He’s flushed, cheeks tinged peak and mouth twisted in frustration. You watch him as he gives the room around you a cutting glance, making everyone immediately turn back to what they were doing.
Jihoon puts his staff back and you watch him. He looks minorly irritated on the surface, but you can see it rippling deeper than that. He’s unsettled and it makes you grin.
“This won’t work,” Jihoon says as he turns back to you, crossing his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his biceps flex and blink at him in confusion. “You can’t be my partner.”
“What? We’re compatible. That was one of the best fighting flows I’ve ever had.”
“We’re too different in principle.”
That gets a frown from you. “I don’t think so at all. You let your instinct guide you. So do I.”
“You deviate.”
“I let the natural dialogue of the fight lead me.”
You let silence fall between you. You can see why so many other pilots had issues with him. Jihoon approaches every statement as though it is the absolute truth, a fact that cannot be disproven. He speaks with the authority of someone who knows he’s right often, and frequently goes unchallenged.
Instead of letting him get a rise out of you, you switch topics. “Are you hungry?”
He pauses. “What?”
“What part of the question didn’t you understand? Are you hungry?”
Jihoon is perplexed. You’re sure that by now, mostly people have visibly grown upset with the combative dialogue. You don’t mind much, watching as he thinks on your question. You take the opportunity to appreciate the gentle slope of his nose up close, the delicate curve of his mouth, the contrast of feminine and masculine features that make an exquisite face.
Then Jihoon unfolds his arms and walks past you. You turn to follow him but he says over his shoulder, “I don’t want to have lunch with you. We’re not friends.”
There’s no room for argument in the way that he says it. You watch him as he leaves, never once turning back.
-
You are vexing.
There isn’t another word to describe you. Jihoon hasn’t the slightest idea how you’ve managed to so thoroughly irritate him at your first encounter, but he can’t stop thinking about how frustrated he is when he slams his tray down on the table.
It’s a little early for lunch, mostly engineers and staff going on shift soon filling the room to eat quickly. The giant clock above the entryway to the cafeteria resets and Jihoon relaxes a little, confirming that Chan and Wylie are fine. He knew they would be - a Category Two kaiju is nothing for a pair like them.
Jihoon finds himself thinking of you. Of what you must be able to do in a jaeger.
Curious, Jihoon looks up your name. It rings a bell - you were pretty renowned at your homebase. Clicking through videos, he sets his phone on the table as he eats, eyes glued to the screen. Your drops are easily accessible to him, clicking through them as he eats.
There is something hypnotizing the way you and your old co-pilot Maya Veliz fight. You’re efficient and without flashy moves, which he can appreciate. But there’s a speed at which you make decisions and take risks that has him shaking his head.
Yet, there is something vaguely familiar. He pauses his meal to watch closer, realizing what it is. There is a brutality to your fighting that he recognizes in himself, a need to kill. You fight to win, willing to take a little damage if it means you can deal the final blow.
The thought unsettles him. Your fighting style is so similar to his that he would be lying if he tried to say otherwise. There is logic and calculation to your moves, but then there’s always that deviation. That random blip in your pattern that is unexpected and dangerous.
“Will watching my drop footage make you like me more?”
Your voice startles him. He drops his fork and it clatters against the table, loud in the soft din of the cafeteria. You’re leaning over him, a smirk on your face and a devilish glint dancing in your eyes as you look at his phone screen where you successfully put down a kaiju.
“Deathclaw wasn’t very impressive. It was pretty small. My mom and I took out Umbraxis my first year, though.”
Jihoon snatches his phone and locks the screen, putting it face down. He scowls down, feeling his heart flip a little. Your scent drifts over to him at your proximity, a mix of amber and jasmine. It’s already familiar to him, having caught the scent when you pinned him down earlier, hand pressed to his heart-
You sit across from him and he looks up at you. His mind goes blank, staring as you unwrap your silverware picking up a fork to stab a piece of chicken and pop it into your mouth. You hum happily, totally unaware - or maybe unbothered - at his increasing irritation.
“Tell me about your jaeger,” you demand - not ask. Your eyes find his, two pools of curiosity that have his tongue heavy, words sticky. “I want to know all about her.”
“You’re not going to make the drop with me.”
The curve of your mouth is wicked. “Tell me anyway.”
For a few minutes, Jihoon doesn’t answer. He waits to see if the silence will push you away or make you anxious. It doesn’t seem to. You keep eating without saying anything else, occasionally glancing at him with a cocked brow as if to suggest you have all the time in the world.
“She was re-outfitted two years ago,” Jihoon says slowly. He doesn’t know why he’s answering you at all, but he continues, “Mark-5 now with the new outfitted tech - she’s still nuclear-driven to avoid any EMP attacks. Outfitted with GD6 steel-obsidian chain swords on each arm, but there are also smaller, detachable blades for hand-to-hand fighting, along with some projectiles. She’s also got a lightning strike powered by the nuclear-core but it can only be used once, and only as a last resort. It obliterates local wildlife in the water.”
“What’s the suspension look like?”
“Gyro-stabilizers to stay fluid when fighting and L-10 locks on all of the joints to strap in and withstand damage. She’s built to take a lot of blunt-force and melee attacks, but she’s top heavy if she loses footing.”
“Have you only been in Storm Breaker?”
He nods. “Since my first drop.”
“She’s beautifully built.”
Jihoon doesn’t respond. It does bring him a small sense of pride to know that you admire the jaeger he fights in, but he doesn’t thank you. He suspects you notice but doesn't say anything, which surprises him. You seem like the stubborn type who doesn't like to back down from a fight, and yet multiple times this morning you’ve conceded to him, refusing to get upset.
It bothers him. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re a people pleaser or if you think you're gentle-parenting him, and he doesn’t like it either way.
So he doesn’t talk to you. He lets the conversation die there, despite sensing your amusement from across the table. He feels the grip on his fork increase, metal biting into his palms as he tries to ignore you. He can smell the jasmine and amber of your perfume, which makes him feel more insane, and he can’t help but steal glances at you and dart his eyes away.
You’re pretty. He’s had attractive co-pilots before. That’s not new, nor has it ever bothered him. Something about you draws the eye, though. He thinks it’s the aura of confidence you give off, effortlessly comfortable in your skin and your situation, despite Jihoon not making it any easier on you.
“Hi,” The raspy voice interrupts Jihoon’s thoughts and he looks up as Wylie slams her tray down on the table. She’s sweaty, freshly peeled from her Drivesuite and offering a hand to you as she gives her full name. “You can call me Wylie, though. Everyone does. Are you Woozi’s new co-pilot?”
“Yes,” you answer at the same time Jihoon says no. “Though I didn’t know that was the name he preferred.”
Wylie shoots him a sly grin and sits down next to him. He curses and scoots over, the younger girl nearly on top of him as she leans her elbows on the table. “He doesn’t prefer it, which is why it stuck. He's a very cranky cat, but he’s nice once you get to know him.”
Jihoon scowls, turning to her. “Did I invite you to sit down with us?”
“No.”
That’s it. That’s the end of her statement. Jihoon watches as she settles happily, opening chocolate milk and chugging it back like it’s water. Jihoon cringes and readies to lob an insult her way when he’s interrupted again, another tray slamming down next to hers.
Closing his eyes, Jihoon summons all the gods he doesn’t believe in to give him the god damn patience. Chan is wearing a shit-eating grin as he leans across the table, offering his hand in the same, chipper manner his partner had moments before.
“I’m Chan. But you can call me Dino.”
“Why Dino?”
“I step on everyone.”
You raise your brows, amused, eyes flickering to Wylie. Sensing your question, Wylie says around a mouthful of mac and cheese, “Like Wylie Coyote because I’m a menace who doesn’t stop attacking.”
“How was your drop?”
“Easy,” they say in unison.
Jihoon focuses on his plate, feeling grouchy. They start to talk like he’s not even there, and though that is typically how conversations go around him, he’s suddenly bothered by it. Especially when you seem so smug that at least someone likes you.
He wants to tell you they don’t count. Chan is one of the nicest people in the Shatterdome and will talk to anyone, if they give him the time of day. Wylie isn’t exactly nice but she’s in love with Chan and is happy to be nice to anyone who is being nice to him. The pair are relatively easy to win over.
It only gets worse for him when Soonyoung and the others start sitting down. Everyone seems eager to ask you questions, a new shiny toy for his friends to play with. He chews on the corner of his lip, feeling stormy in the corner of the table as Seokmin peppers you with questions and exclamations at your answers.
A shift in tension makes Jihoon look up. Seungcheol sits down at the table slowly, as though trying not to be a distraction or catch any attention. He’s three seats away from Wylie and out of her eyeshot, but Wylie is a born predator, sensing him like a hunter. Her eyes cut over to Seungcheol and she bristles, shooting up to her feet to grab her tray and storm off.
Chan sighs, muttering a brief apology before grabbing his things and going after her. Jihoon glances at Seungcheol, watching the way his jaw ticks at the interaction. Surprisingly, you don’t ask any questions. You lean over to Soonyoung and ask him about some of their earlier fights, shifting the energy at the table from tense to light in a second.
Seungcheol relaxes, and though he doesn’t introduce himself, he’s not unkind to you. Jihoon feels a pang for the pilot, knowing that the last year has been difficult for him. Cherry left Seungcheol adrift without a partner, and he’s been unable to find someone to replace her.
He thinks about offering you to Seungcheol as an alternative.
Jihoon does learn a little bit about you while listening to everyone talk, though. You've only had two co-pilots in your life where Jihoon has lost count. He wonders what growing up piloting with a parent feels like, and though you smile as you talk about growing up working with your mom, there’s a tightness to your mouth, a look in your eye that he can’t place.
Feeling his gaze, your eyes shift to him. Jihoon realizes he’s been staring at you. He stands and leaves the table abruptly, Seokmin’s voice apologizing on his behalf drifting after him.
Thankfully, you don’t follow him. He dumps his tray and leaves it in the discarded pile for the cafeteria staff and immediately begins the climb to the command bridge where the Marshall’s office is. His thoughts race but go nowhere at the same time, an echochamber that he can’t untangle.
Before Jihoon can knock on the entrance to the Marshall’s office, the military commander looks up and waves Jihoon in. “I was about to call for you. Shut the door, please.”
Jihoon does so without comment and sits down. He glances around the office, distracting himself as the Marshall finishes what he was working on. The office is orderly and tidy, every ounce the professional and uptight officer that sits in front of Jihoon, leaning back in the seat to sigh heavily and level Jihoon with a stare.
Before Jihoon can open his mouth to list all of the reasons you shouldn’t be his pilot, the Marshall speaks. “You’re on probation.”
“I - what?”
“For the next three months, if you lose your co-pilot, you will be reassigned to administrative work or to a new Shatterdome.”
Jihoon opens his mouth. Closes it. The weight of the Marshall’s words don’t quite sink in, though Jihoon can tell they’re heavy. Real. “We’ve given you plenty of chances to effectively remain a pilot for Storm Breaker, but the board feels as though the trade off has become an issue.”
“The trade off?”
“You’re costing us money. And cadets. People want to train where they can potentially see themselves become a pilot. When we have open spots and jaegers coming up on retirement, it bolsters recruitment.” The Marshall levels him with a tired stare. “But when we have a pilot who no one can partner with, it puts us in a bind to send cadets where they will fit elsewhere.”
“Look - “
“No you look, Lee. You’ve been a pilot here for six years. That’s considered a veteran in this field. But the higher ups grow tired of even veterans when they’ve been unmanageable for the last two of those six years.”
Heat flashes up the side of Jihoon’s neck, equal parts embarrassed and angry. He’d been the first in his class to suit up, selected as Haneul’s co-pilot to fill in for their partner that had retired. Jihoon remembers how proud - and nervous - he was and how easy it had been to partner with Haneul.
He didn’t have that anymore, the safety net of the only parental figure he’d ever known gone.
“The pilots you’ve paired me with have no business being in a jaeger,” Jihoon says matter of factly. “I don’t respect them.”
“Well good thing we’ve given you someone to respect.”
Jihoon shakes his head. “I can’t fight with her.”
“You can and you will. Your drift compatibility is 98% and you have similar fighting style and come from similar machines. You’ll start Conn-pod training tomorrow.”
“Don’t make me partner with her. I don’t like her.”
The Marshall stands. “One day you might learn that if you give people a chance, you’d like what you find.”
“Marshall-”
“That’s all, Ranger.”
The air feels heavy as Jihoon leaves the Marshall’s office. He stops on the command deck, his eyes flickering over to the windows. The glass is floor to ceiling all the way around, giving the tower a 360-degree view of the pacific ocean. Blue stretches out as far as the eye can see, backdropped by the shining silver of the city.
Boats bob on the water, shifting back and forth on the dark surface. Air teams go back and forth, working in the aftermath of Chan and Wylie’s successful kaiju destruction. Jihoon can see the toxicity on the surface of the water, an oil slick that he knows the exact pungent smell of.
Trailing to an observation window, he stares with unseeing eyes. How many times had he stood up here and provided commentary to his friends during a fight? He didn’t frequent the command deck, but sometimes it gave him perspective. Or he was a little worried about his friends, especially when they were taking on higher category kaiju.
Jihoon chews on the side of his lip. He’s talked Wylie and Chan through plenty of bouts before. He remembers sharply the terror of the fight that had changed all of their lives over a year ago, watching as the hull of Fang Striker was breached, the screams of terror as Wylie took a talon to the stomach, nearly killing her. The aftermath of Chan’s grief.
A chill breaks out over his arms. Jihoon knows he isn’t cut out to sit through something like that again, to try and get a panicking pilot to focus and get to safety. He’s not made for an advisory role. Not built to watch pilots come and go, completely operating out of his control.
Death is easier to process in the heat of battle. It gives him an excuse to be distracted, to hide from the immediate pain of losing a pilot during a fight because he’s too busy protecting himself, protecting the city. He’s not made to watch it from afar and take the full weight of it.
Turning away from the window, Jihoon descends back down to the ground floor.
Probation period. Three months of having to stomach you or he’s out. Flexing his fingers, he heads to his room, needing the silence. If Jihoon is going to do this, he knows he needs to keep himself in line. Can’t push you away like he has the others.
And he hates you for it.
-
Music bleeds through the metal door out into the hall. You wonder how any of the neighboring rooms let him get away with it. Then again, Lee Jihoon seems like someone most jaeger pilots don’t go toe-to-toe with often, if they can help it. At least it’s classical music, the swelling sound of Mozart sweeping into the hallway as you open the door, propping it with your hip to haul the box in your arms through.
Jihoon’s eyes snap open immediately. He’s lounging on the bottom bunk of the bed in the far corner of the room, face lit by the glow of the muted screen in the corner showing the rain and ocean spray beating against the Shatterdome. Nothing disturbs the seas at the moment, though you wonder in a hotspot like this how long that will last.
A scowl twists his mouth. You let the door shut behind you, setting the box down on the media table by the doorway. “Mozart?” you ask, arching a brow. He glares at you, sitting up from where he had been lounging with his hands tucked behind his head. “A bit cliche, don’t you think?”
“What do you know about music?”
“Enough to know that someone with balanced compositions that orchestrate total control and logic in its make is… not surprising for you.” He blinks in surprise. “I like Tchaikovsky. There’s something more mercurial to his compositions.”
“Tchaikovsky was inspired by Mozart.”
“I didn’t say one was better than the other.” You smirk. “You don’t like differences of opinion, do you?”
“I always value opinions. Some more than others.”
“Mhmm. Where can I put my things?”
Jihoon closes his eyes and lays back on the bed. His blonde hair is undone, fanning around him in a silvery-white halo. “The trash chute, preferably.”
“Wherever I want, got it.”
He ignores you. You suppress a laugh and move into the room proper. It’s small, filled with only the essentials to house two people to eat, sleep, and shower. A small kitchenette sits to your left, hidden in darkness with all of the lights off. You spot a shelf filled with dry goods - mostly protein bars - and coffee. There is a sad excuse for a sitting area with a tiny table and two chairs next to the TV screen, a bunk bed with a wardrobe next to it, and a tiny bathroom.
Cozy.
Pulling open the wardrobe, you see that there’s room for your things. You shoot Jihoon a sidelong glance. He certainly hadn’t moved his things over to take over the full wardrobe after his last pilot left. You wonder if he’s just used to being unable to use the full space or if he had made room for you.
You doubt it’s the latter.
Ave Verum Corpus plays in the background as you unpack the tiny box that is your life. You hum along, shutting the wardrobe and padding over to the bathroom. Jihoon could be asleep for all you know, but you suspect he’s not. When you glance over at him after shutting the medicine cabinet, you see his foot tapping to the beat of the music.
“What other kind of music do you like?” His foot stops tapping at your question.
Turning off the bathroom light, you move to the door to break down the cardboard box you brought your things in. Jihoon doesn’t answer at first, his frame rigid with tension, as though he had forgotten you were there until you spoke. You suppose that’s entirely possible, if not a little unlikely.
Just when you think he’s not going to answer, he mutters, “I like ballads.”
“Romantic.” He frowns but doesn’t say anything further. “What’s your favorite one? Or artist?”
“Go play twenty questions with someone else. I’m not interested.”
“I’m going to find out anyway.” He opens his eyes then. They’re dark, pupils blown as his face twitches in an almost snarl. “It is an inevitable fact that we will have to drift. I recommend making peace with that now.”
“I’m going to bed,” he announces, flopping over on his side and crossing his arms.
You let Jihoon be mean. It does you no good to fight with him when you eventually need him on your side, and you can sympathize with him to a degree. He didn’t choose you as his pilot and he’s backed into a corner, a do or die situation that he can’t back out of. The only way is forward and it’s against his will.
As he pretends to sleep, you occupy yourself on the top bunk with your tablet, sliding headphones over your ears so he doesn’t bitch you out. Flicking through online channels, you familiarize yourself with your fellow jaeger pilots at the Shatterdome, watching fight footage and interviews.
You come across a set of popular pilots, only one of them familiar to you. You recognize the man from dinner earlier - he had sat down and the tension around the table had increased tenfold. Wylie had immediately clocked his presence and stormed off, Chan trailing behind her with an apologetic look.
Tapping on their information, you hum in interest to yourself. Seungcheol. You recognize the name, vaguely. He piloted Duellona Fury with his copilot, a woman you don’t recognize but that has a bright smile. They make a good team, totally in sync and feeding off each other’s energy. You wonder where she is now, assuming she’s the source of the tension between Wylie and Seungcheol.
You wonder what you and Jihoon will be like as drift partners. So far he seems to hate you, but he does tolerate you. It’s a start, if not ideal. You won’t start drifting right away - not for real anyway. Practicing combat drills and learning more about one another is the first step to any partnership, followed by practice drifts.
In the drift, there’s no room for hatred or enmity. Trust is paramount, but almost as important is respect. Respect for what you see in the thoughts and feelings of your partner, respect that they’re good at what they do and that they’re the best person for the job, respect that they are your equal. Too many partners get lost in trying to save the other, losing sight of being equally capable or feeling like they know better.
Jihoon doesn’t seem capable of that. Not right now, anyway. It doesn’t matter, though. You’re his only option to stay in the jaeger program, and though he hasn’t said anything about it, you’re pretty sure he knows.
“Can you shut the tablet off?” Jihoon grunts from below. You sigh heavily, tucking it to your chest. “The glow is fucking bright.”
“The TV is also glowing, Jihoon.”
“Yeah, so your tablet adds to the general light in the room.”
“Close your eyes.”
“It isn’t helping. Go under your covers.”
Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in, you lock the tablet and shove it under your pillow. “Better?”
“Yes.”
Weather the storm, you think to yourself. Jihoon is angry and capricious, but it’s more to do with his situation than it is to do with you. And despite his snappy nature, there are flashes of him willing to work with you by answering questions, albeit with attitude.
You can do this. You can make Lee Jihoon like you. Maybe even respect you.
-
You are not a morning person. Lee Jihoon, however, is a morning person. Which is why it takes everything inside of you not to launch your pillow at him when you hear the classical music wake you from sleep in the morning, making you lift your heavy head to look around the room, vision blurry.
Heat from a fresh shower drifts from the bathroom only a short distance away. You stare in confusion, blinking rapidly as Jihoon walks out of the bathroom. He’s brushing his teeth furiously with one hand, looking at his phone with the other, blue light making him look like a phantom in the dim light.
And he’s dressed in nothing but a towel slung low on his waist, making you nearly go catatonic.
It’s not like you haven’t seen a body before - it’s just a body, and soon enough, you’ll be in his head. It’s important to get any weirdness out of the way because in the drift, you’ll bare everything. But for some reason the image of his small, compact body scrambles your brain this early in the morning.
Jihoon is built like a weapon, all sleek lines and hard muscles. He stands in the kitchen, setting down his phone as he opens cabinets and starts to make coffee, toothbrush still in his mouth. The muscles in his back flex as he moves, skin pale and smooth as the moon.
“Are you a coffee person?” he asks, because he knows you’re awake. Of course he does. You don’t answer for a moment, stuck between eyeing the narrow taper of his hips and the question that implies he’s willing to make you coffee. He turns, arching a brow at you. “Now you shut up?”
That brings a scowl to your face. “Yes, I drink coffee.”
“Great.”
He goes back to what he was doing, ignoring you entirely. Dragging your eyes away from him, feeling flushed and overwarm, you throw the covers back, scrambling from the top bunk. You land with a soft huff, feeling the chill of the concrete floor as you dart to the wardrobe to pull out clothes.
“What time is it?”
“You have eyes, look at the TV.”
Got it, you think. He’ll make coffee for you but not do something as simple as answer what time it is. You do look at the TV, seeing the darkened feed of the churning ocean breaking against the walls of the Shatterdome. There are multiple camera angles, weather radar and Dome messages that break up the screen into sections. The time is in the top corner, flashing 5:13 am.
“Ji, it is five in the morning.”
“Five-thirteen. And don’t call me Ji. I’m not your buddy.”
Taking a deep breath, you mutter curses under your breath. “I’m going to shower.”
As expected, you get no response.
The great thing about living in a billion dollar buildinding with hundreds of people is that there’s no shortage of hot water. You’re grateful as the steam fills the room, hot water making your coiled muscles melt the second you step under the shower. You let the frustration from the morning fade away, the rush of the water and the feel of it sluicing down your back-
A loud knock on the door breaks your reverie. You hear it open. Jihoon grunts, “I wasn’t done brushing my teeth. I need the sink.”
“Then use the sink.”
Jihoon shuffles into the bathroom. You hear the faucet turn on and you go back to tilting your head backward under the stream of water, ignoring the sound of him going about his morning routine. In a way, it’s sort of peaceful, the sounds of him softly opening and closing cabinets and the clinking of jars against the counter soft in the background.
He’s back in the kitchen by the time you’re out of the shower and wrapped in a towel. You venture out into the main room in kind, deciding that if he is going to walk around in nothing but a towel, so will you. He barely gives you a glance from his bottom bunk, lounging around in low-slung sweats with no shirt, blonde hair splayed on his pillow. You ignore him in favor of the lone mug of coffee sitting in the kitchen steaming.
Gripping it and bringing it up, you let the ceramic warm you from your palms upward, inhaling before taking a tentative sip. It’s bitter but it helps you wake up. You glance at Jihoon from over the lip of the cup. He scrolls on a tablet mindlessly, as though he’s forgotten you’re there.
Neither one of you speaks as you finish your coffee. Turning to the sink, you start washing the cup out. You notice his used mug sitting in the bottom of the sink and pick it up, wash it and put it in the drying rack next to yours without thinking about it before returning to the bathroom to dress fully.
Once dressed and out of the bathroom, it’s almost six. Jihoon is bent over by the door, his boot on the coffee table as he laces it. Now fully dressed, his long hair is pulled back in a bun, a few silver whisps escaping and falling across his face. Again, you’re struck by how beautiful he is for a moment.
He straightens and looks at you, raising his brows. Instead of answering him, you hurry to the wardrobe, pulling out your boots to slide them on and head to breakfast. You half expect him to leave you behind, but to your surprise, he lingers with the door open, dark eyes clocking your every movement. As soon as you’re done tying laces, he’s out the door and charging again, leaving you to scramble behind him.
Silence follows you into the cafeteria, which has the quiet atmosphere of an early morning. Workers and pilots ending their shifts sit at the table, scarfing down breakfast for dinner. Early shift workers hurry to grab a bite before heading off to the different parts of the Shatterdome. It’s not nearly as loud as lunch or dinner, but the soft din is inviting as you go through the line, following your new co-pilot wordlessly.
None of the friendly faces from yesterday are in the cafeteria, so the two of you sit alone. Jihoon is methodical as he sets up his breakfast, each move calculated and precise. He eats the same way, finishing something entirely before moving on to the next time.
His obsession with organization and control is almost fascinating, if not a little worrying. Instead of asking about it, you eat in silence, humming delightedly at the cheesy hashbrowns made available that morning. He casts you a single annoyed glance when he notices you enjoying your meal.
Breakfast goes without a fight, though. Glancing at the large clock above the entrance to the cafeteria, you realize you only have a few minutes left before your day of training starts. Jihoon seems to be on the same wavelength, pulling out his phone to scroll through your schedule.
“Meditation first,” he murmurs. He shoves his phone in his pocket and stands without preamble. “Do you think you can manage meditation?”
“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but we haven’t spoken for over an hour.”
Confusion crosses his face, quickly followed by astonishment. He hadn’t realized that most of your morning has been spent in silence. His brows pull together, mouth turning slightly as he works over your words. It seems to make him unhappy. He narrows his eyes and his mouth twists before he turns and marches away from the table, leaving you behind.
Mouth quirking, you follow quickly, not wanting to lose your way to wherever it is you’re supposed to report to. He walks faster this time, determined to keep you moving and on your toes. Wherever the studio designated to you for the morning feels like it’s halfway around the world. Jihoon leads you down a series of halls and stairs, never slowing his pace once.
By the time you get to a small, soundproof room, your calves are burning.
“You need conditioning,” he mutters, noticing the way you’re a little out of breath.
“You basically just took me on a light jog,” you protest. “I think it’s fair to be a little winded this early in the morning.”
“It doesn’t matter what time it is. What will you do if we make the drop at four in the morning?”
Jihoon doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he goes to the middle of the room and sits down on the floor, and crosses his legs. Instead of taking his bait and picking a fight with him, you sigh and stride into the room. He positions himself, ready for you to sit in front of him. Instead, you circle around him, sitting down behind him.
“What are you doing?” he asks, twisting toward you.
“Meditating. Turn back around so we can be back-to-back.”
“What? Why?”
“Just trust me.”
“I don’t.”
“Well, try. It’s easier to feel your breaths and your heartbeat this way. Plus, there's less pressure if you don’t have to look directly at me.”
“Thank god for that,” he mutters.
You roll your eyes at the barb but grin when Jihoon listens, twisting back around to face the front. He lets you settle against him, the warmth from his back melting into yours. He is rigid, his spine solid as it digs into yours for a second. You lick your lips, feeling electricity shiver down you at the contact, like there’s a spark.
The hum of the air condition is the only sound in the room. You close your eyes, leaning into Jihoon so that you fit flush together. You match your breaths with his, feeling your breathing slow down. Your heart slows to, like it’s trying to let him catch up, both of you melting into the same rhythm.
Behind you, Jihoon relaxes. The back of his head rests against yours, both of you leaning into the touch, becoming the equal opposing force holding the other up.
Balance is imperative in co-pilots. Jihoon needed to bring to the fight what you lacked and vice versa, the two of you making something whole, something complete. It’s a balance that’s not easily achieved, and though you’d always been a good pair with your mother and then maya, you know instinctively that it’s nothing compared to Jihoon’s counterbalance.
A timer goes off in the room, startling you with how quickly time has passed. You blink your eyes rapidly, letting the room swim back into focus. For a second, neither one of you moves, content to lean against the other until Jihoon seems to realize he’s still pressed against you. He scrambles to his feet unexpectedly and you fall backward, losing his counterweight immediately.
Thunking against the floor, you glare up at him. He smirks, looking down at you as he wipes dust from the back of his pants. “You should never let a co-pilot fall,” you huff, hauling yourself to your feet.
“Good thing we’re not really co-pilots.”
“Yet,” you supply. You get up, stretching and feeling your joints pop. “Even you can’t deny that it was a great first meditation session.”
“Let’s go. We have sparring.”
-
Jihoon doesn’t like you.
He doesn’t like you, but he has to admit you are a perfect fit for him. You are loud where he is quiet, you make light when he remains serious, and you deviate when he’s planned. Yet somehow, you manage to mesh with him in your training, the perfect opposite force to him.
For the most part, you leave him alone. He can tell you’ve figured out when to bite back and when to eat your words. It’s become a game to him, throwing insults your way to watch whether you’ll riposte back or swallow your pride.
The amount of times you swallow your pride impresses him, unfortunately. His original assessment that you are unpredictable and uncontrolled was wrong. He can see the way you actively meet his cold winter with warm summer, trying to melt him.
He doesn't like giving you credit for your control, but he does so begrudgingly.
Worst of all, he realizes that it’s not you he dislikes. It’s his situation, it’s knowing that you’re his lifeline and he has to accept you, and it’s knowing that despite his initial dislike, you’re a mirror that he can’t look away from. It doesn’t help that you live two feet away from him at all times, occupying every moment of his life just a reach-of-a-hand away.
Training is tiring. It feels like he’s a rookie all over again, going through the exercises as the two of you learn to fight together, moving through meditation sessions, sparring, talking sessions - which don't really involve a lot of talking on his part as much as yours - and drop simulations.
Drop simulations are the most exhausting for him. You bring everything to the drift. It’s nearly overwhelming at first how much you’re willing to show him. From the moment the mental bridge connects the two of you through the simulation software, Jihoon is shocked at the way you lay yourself bare. You hide nothing from him, letting him roam around your thoughts at his leisure.
He feels everything you’ve ever felt. Elation when you make your first real drop with your first co-pilot, your mom. Sore ribs after a particularly difficult sparring match when you were a teeager in the training program. Pride when you finish the top of your training program. Terror when a fight goes awry and your mother overwhelms you in the drift, taking the full neural load of the jaeger to protect you. Rage at her doing so.
“What happened here?” he finds himself asking, sticking near the memory.
He thinks you won’t answer him, but of course you do. Unlike him, you’re open for the taking. “The hull was breached in my first year of fighting. My mother panicked because it was on my side of the jaeger and she tried to take on the neural load.”
Jihoon says nothing. Piloting a jaeger alone overwhelms the nervous system and the brain, which is why each jaeger has two pilots in the first place. It can be done, but the risk for damage is always present. He senses where your conversation is going.
“We only piloted together for three more years after that. She was starting to struggle to make the drift, so we paused to get her examined. They discovered lesions on her brain and linked it to the damage from that day she tried to pilot alone.”
“She wanted to protect you.”
“She did, but it doesn’t make up for what she did. I was her equal, not someone she was supposed to protect.” You look at him and he looks at you, surrounded by your memories in the drift. “I am deserving of treated like an equal.”
He understands what you’re really saying, that he should treat you like an equal too. Instead of responding, he busies himself with studying other parts of you that you let him have.
There is a melody to your mind that he enjoys, though he’ll never tell you so. The more you drift together, the more Jihoon realizes that you are exactly like a Tchaikovsky piece. There is an organized chaos to you, a mathematical formula that is logical and measurable, but that deviates from the norm once in a while.
Every drift, you remain open to him, your thoughts for the taking. You don’t even hide the moments you’ve thought of him - both in occasional attraction and irritation. Irritation at him bringing nothing to drift, opening no part of himself to you. Irritation when he’s mean to you. Hesitant fondness when he does something nice. Confused attraction when he walks around in just a towel.
Water sluices down his back. Jihoon’s thoughts are still foggy from three weeks of nothing but practice and drills. He also finds it harder to sleep sometimes in the room, his dreams filled with the scent of your amber and jasmine and the lively sound of Tchaikovsky acting as the soundtrack to his dreams.
You’re still asleep when he exits the bathroom. He’s made sure to turn the light off before opening the door, steam billowing out after him. He scoops headphones from the nightstand as he heads to the kitchen, towel snug around his waist. He pops the earbuds in, the sound of Mozart starting his morning as he begins to make coffee.
Jihoon has quickly learned that the longer he lets you sleep in the morning, the less whiny you are when you wake up. Instead of playing his music out loud, he lets you sleep until he’s made two cups of coffee, adding a spoonful of brown sugar and milk to yours. He sets it on the table and walks back to the bathroom, one of the requiem pieces carrying him through his routine.
On the way to the bathroom, he stops by your bunk. He hesitates for a second, drinking you in as you sleep. Nestled in that top bunk is the only place you’re as peaceful as you are in the drift. Your features are smoothed out as you slumber, mouth open a little, drool sticky on the corner of your mouth. Jihoon’s lips twitch a little and he shakes his head before reaching out to tap the ankle hanging off your bed. You mumble in response.
“Get up,” he says gruffly. “You’ve slept long enough.”
He returns to the bathroom and shuts the door to get fully dressed. He knows you’ll be standing in the kitchen looking dazed and confused sipping coffee until he comes out and frees the bathroom for you to shower.
The alarm for a kaiju alert goes off. He hears it blaring over his music and he pulls the earbuds out, opening the door half dressed in just pants as he looks at the screen flashing red. A Category Four kaiju has been sighted in the bay. His heart skips, knowing that Cat-4 kaiju are dangerous even for the most skilled pilots at the Dome.
Assignments flash across the screen. Solar Saber and Fang Striker have been summoned to drop. Nervousness flutters in Jihoon’s stomach. He snatches a shirt and yanks it over his head, moving quickly around the room to grab boots.
“What are you doing?” you ask, leaning off the counter.
“Heading to the command deck. Come or don’t.”
“I’ll come.”
You dump your coffee in the sink, jumping to action as you peel off your pajama pants, searching for cargos. Jihoon hardly realizes you’re changing in front of him - he’s seen it all in your head anyway - as he laces his boots. He doesn’t know why, but he starts to explain himself, “Dino and Wylie have a… history with Cat-4 kaiju.”
“You want to be an extra set of eyes and ears.” He nods at the accurate assessment. “Got it. Run me through Solar Saber drop stats if you know them.”
Jihoon does. He fires off what he knows about the team. Their stats are fine, but a Category Four kaiju is new for them. They have a good jaeger. It’s on the newer side, nuclear powered with plasma cannons and a massive plasma sword that burns brighter than the sun, earning the machine its name. It’s piloted by a set of twins, which produce some of the best drifts in the jaeger program.
But there’s a nervousness in Jihoon’s stomach that he can’t place. Everytime his friends drop, he knows they’ll be okay - but he also knows the level of danger. Perhaps it’s because of Chan and Wylie’s accident last year or because they’re dropping with a team Jihoon doesn’t trust, but he suddenly wants to tell the Marshall to let Storm Breaker do the drop.
A hand brings him out of his thoughts. Your gaze is as calm as the surface of a lake, piercing. “We’re ready, if we need to be.”
Of course you know what he’s thinking. Despite his best efforts, you seem particularly good at stitching the tiny threads that escape through Jihoon’s wall of ice.
You drop your hand and grab the room keys, heading toward the door with top speed. His arm is warm where your fingers were a moment ago, burning like a brand. He shakes it off as he follows you out, both of you jogging up to the top level of the Shatterdome to observe.
Crew races around the dome. Jihoon sees Seungkwan and Vernon rushing up the stairs to the command deck. He follows suit, you quick on his heels. People fill the room, talking over one another as they shout into headsets and screens flash different camera angles.
The Marshall stands in the center of it all behind the LOCCENT Mission Controller who will walk the pilots through the fight. Jihoon doesn’t recognize the man giving them instructions, but he joins the wall of people standing behind him to observe the screens, taking a place next to Vernon and Seungkwan.
You glance at Vernon and back to Jihoon, a question in your gaze. “This is Vernon,” Jihoon says in response. “He’s currently a jumphawk pilot. Could be a jaeger pilot if he could figure out the drift but he’s too screwy up top.”
“Thanks, man.”
“You can call me Blue,” you offer. Your eyes drift to the screens. “Friends of the pilots out there?”
“Wylie is one of my best friends.”
Instead of telling him something like they’ll be alright or offering words of comfort, all you do is nod. Jihoon respects that. Anything comforting would be a potential lie and useless in a world of blood and metal, salt and fire.
The entire room falls into a steady cadence. Jihoon crosses his arms as he focuses on the screen. He’s mutely aware that you’re standing so close to him he can feel the heat of your arm, hands shoved in your pockets as you watch the screens, brows furrowed in concentration.
On screen, Solar Saber churns the water toward a towering kaiju in the bay. The creature is straight out of a nightmare, a barbed tail whipping across the surface of the ocean, misting water as it does. From what Jihoon can tell, it’s got four legs, each equipped with long talons. Rows and rows of teeth reveal itself as the kaiju opens its mouth and roars, the vibration from the sound so deep that it vibrates underneath his feet.
“I don’t like that tail,” Vernon mutters next to Jihoon.
“It’s like a manticore.” Jihoon glances at you. You’re not looking at them, but your head is tilted in curiosity as you point to the screen. “Four legs, a curved tail with a barb. The webbing around its neck suggests it might have a frill.”
“Strike teams, confirm positions,” the LOCCENT controller says into the mic.
“Fang Striker in position two miles north of kaiju and Solar Saber.” It’s Wylie’s raspy voice that crackles over the shared radiowave with the jaeger teams. “Perimeter is set.”
“Solar Saber ready to engage,” a female voice comes over the speaker. Jihoon recognizes it as one of the twin co-pilots, Jezzi.
“Permission to engage.”
As Solar Saber engages with the kaiju, the command deck goes quiet. People guiding the helicopters and ground teams speak softly into their mics, a level of tense calm washing over as everyone watches the fight ensue.
Solar Saber is beautiful to watch fight. The armor is painted radiant gold and the glow of the sword is magnificent against the stormy waters as it slashes at the kaiju. Jezzi and her sister Yaz are calm throughout their bout, their voices clear and communicative as the kaiju batters them.
“Cut off the tail,” you mutter under your breath. “It’s going to-”
Jihoon sees what you do as soon as you say it. While trying to kill the kaiju with a direct blow, Solar Saber has forgotten about the tail. The tip of the tail shivers, reminding Jihoon of a cat ready to strike, and it does. One moment, Solar Saber and the kaiju are locked in a wrestling match. Next, the tail is hammering the hull of the jaeger, striking over and over again like a scorpion.
Chaos explodes on the screens. Jihoon holds his breath as red flashes across the screens as the tail breaches the hull of Solar Saber. A tingle settles over him, the buzz of nerves as he watches Solar Saber take a knee, ocean water surging around the jaeger as the kaiju’s tail continues to hammer the jaeger’s head open.
Jihoon grabs the LOCCENT Controller’s chair and yanks him backward out of the way, jamming his finger against the button to speak. “Don’t let it force you under the waterline,” he barks. “Cut off that tail, Solar Saber. If it forces you down, you’re going to take on water and drown.”
“The right panel is damaged from acid from the tail,” Jezzi yells over the comes. “Sword arm cannot engage.”
“Then disengage, Solar Saber. Do not let it force you down another knee.”
Yaz screams back something incomprehensible over the comms. The left arm of Solar Saber lurches, reaching for the kaiju’s tail. It catches, yanking at the appendage hard. The kaiju screams as the tail breaks where Solar Saber has it gripped. The kaiju frenzies, screaming wildly as frills - just like you’d predicted - shake to life by its head, vibrating back and forth in a threat display as its dismembered tail whips back and forth, spraying ichor.
“Fang Striker engaging,” Chan’s voice comes over the comms.
It’s the Marshall who answers. “Fang Striker, hold the perimeter.”
“Fuck the peremiter,” Wylie seethes.
The Marshall turns to you and Jihoon. “We’re ready,” Jihoon says at the same time as you.
A string of curses leaves Marshall’s mouth. “Fang Striker, assist Solar Saber with the intent to disengage. Storm Breaker dropping in ten.”
Heart hammering, Jihoon turns to follow you out of the command center, footsteps like thunder as you sprint to the jaeger bay. He doesn’t even think twice about dropping with you, any reservations about you vanishing as the fighting instinct takes over.
You’re an entirely different person when you step onto the catwalk, your team already scrambling with pieces of your Drivesuit. There is an eerie calm about you. You meet his gaze head on as your team fits armored pieces of Drivesuit onto your arms. Jihoon sees himself reflected so clearly that he’s startled.
“What?” you ask, sensing the bewilderment.
“Show me what you’re made of,” he says simply.
Your mouth curves in a wicked grin and you nod once, understanding.
Storm Breaker is beautiful. The fondness for her sweeps over him as he steps into the cockpit. The screens come to life, casting blue and red glow all over as he steps into the Conn-pod. He sheds any reservations he has as the team helps him connect. You’re only a few feet away, stepping into the left side of the Conn-pod.
Jihoon’s world shifts to screens and canned voices in his headset as the shield of his helmet closes. It’s Seungkwan he hears over comms saying, “Engaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.”
“Do the pilots always take over the LOCCENT Controller’s here?” you muse, just to Jihoon.
His lips twitch. “What can I say? Seungkwan knows I’m a control freak.”
“Engaging neural handshake in three… two… one…”
The world around him goes mute for a moment. Jihoon’s vision flashes white for a second. He feels you then, your thoughts and feelings becoming his. They’re not overwhelming though. He feels focus and determination from you with an undercurrent of ferocity. All of your memories and other feelings are there too, but they exist in the background. You’re a seasoned pilot, Jihoon doesn’t have to worry about you chasing the rabbit and falling down a hole of memories.
“Neural handshake holding and strong,” Seungkwan calls. “Initiating drop in three… two… one…”
Jihoon’s stomach flies into his throat as he falls away from the world. The world is nothing but freefall for a few seconds. He feels the thrill that shoots through you and smiles - he can’t help it. Bending at the knee, he braces for impact. You do the same, and the cockpit lands on the jaeger’s mainframe with a metallic clang.
“Calibrating right hemisphere,” Jihoon announces, feeling the machine start to power to life. “Calibrated.”
You repeat on the left side, the full machine powered on and ready with both hemispheres locked in.
“Storm Breaker ready to pursue,” Jihoon says. He looks up at the screen where Fang Striker is engaging the kaiju. Outside of Storm Breaker, he might feel his heart race with panic. Solar Saber is overturned and he has no idea if the pilots are inside of it as it takes on water. “Two miles out from contact.”
“Pursue.”
Your first step as a team is perfect. Fluid. Jihoon knew it would be. He hates to admit that he was wrong, but he knows it is. There is a thread of satisfaction bleeding over from you as Storm Breaker charges into the ocean, water rising rapidly around the waist.
Ocean water slams against Storm Breaker’s chest as you charge toward the fighting. Fang Striker’s comms are patched in, but Wylie and Chan are silent as they rip at the kaiju, pulling at one of its wings that it unfolded from its back. Fang Striker looks tiny against the hulking mass of the monster, but its team is doing what it does best, savaging the creature a little at a time.
“Storm Breaker half a mile out,” you announce, voice like steel. “Ready to engage.”
“Engage at your discretion.”
“Storm Breaker,” Chan says over comms. “Try and restrain this motherfucker. We’ve got a loose plate in its armor to exploit but it keeps shaking us off.”
“Heard.”
As if hearing Chan, the kaiju flings Fang Striker off. Fang Striker’s red body crashes into the ocean, Wylie cursing the kaiju straight to hell and about fifty other foul places.
Storm Breaker engages, both you and Jihoon plunging into the fight. The kaiju swipes at you but you both duck together, dodging the swing as you punch hard from the left in tandem. You knock it hard, it’s head snapping to the side. As a team, you use the opening to wrap the right arm around the kaiju’s neck, squeezing it toward Storm Breaker’s chest in a headlock.
Stabilizers and locks click into place. He grits his teeth, as though feeling the actual strength it takes as the kaiju roars and claws at Storm Breaker, trying to free itself from the headlock. Together, you put the left arm around it, adding to the force to keep the kaiju from slipping from your grip.
Clawed blows hammer down on Storm Breaker. Neither of you gives way, tightening your grip on the creature and ignoring the way the talons scratch against the hull. Storm Breaker is built to withstand, and neither one of you flinches as furious blows rain down on you, fists hammering.
“It looks like that kaiju is playing you like a bongo,” Wylie’s voice comes over comms. “Hey Woozi, do you feel like it’s composing one of those songs you like?”
“Oh sure,” he shoots back. “Take your time, Wylie. It’s not like it’s trying to crack us like an egg.”
“Ugh,” you sigh. “Don’t talk about food. I didn’t eat breakfast. Hey Seungkwan, can you ask Joshua to save me some hash browns? He’s always at the cafeteria first.”
Jihoon rolls his eyes. “You’re all insane. Any day now, Fang Striker.”
Fang Striker appears from the sky like a creature from hell, a red streak of death as it falls. They land on the kaiju’s back, the force of the landing vibrating through Storm Breaker’s frame. The kaiju tries to twist in Storm Breaker’s arms, but you and Jihoon tighten even further. Fang Striker’s sword glints in the sunlight as it unsheathes.
“Don’t stab us,” you say at the same exact time that Jihoon has the thought.
They almost do. Fang Striker buries the sword through the back of the kaiju, the tip of the blade peaking through its chest, almost scraping against Storm Breaker’s stomach. The monster thrashes wildly for a few minutes, clawing at Storm Breaker’s hull. Fang Striker hits the release on their sword, leaving it embedded in the kaiju’s back to stand and fire into the kaiju with plasma cannons.
Jihoon feels the tremor of the shots land. There’s a final kick from the kaiju before it slumps, putting all of its deadweight on Storm Breaker. In unison, you and Jihoon throw the creature off of you. It lands with a crash, water surging around the creature as its weight drags it down before buoyancy pulls it back up.
Storm Breaker straightens, standing in the open water with a battered Fang Striker a couple of yards away. Panting, Jihoon looks across the Conn-pod where you’re already looking at him, shield on your helmet up as you grin at him. There is unguarded happiness there, nearly as bright as the sun that glints off Storm Breaker’s helm.
“So,” you ask the group. “Can we get hashbrowns now?”
Jihoon realizes at that moment he doesn’t dislike you at all.
-
“Would you slow down?” Jihoon asks, setting his tray down next to you roughly. He plops in the seat next to you, giving you a severe side eye. “You’re going to throw up the second you hit the treadmill eating that fast.”
“I want to get more bacon before they run out,” you whine. “They won’t make more once it’s gone.”
Uncovering the top of his tray, Jihoon reveals a heap of bacon slices. You oggle as he sets it between the two of you, shaking his head and scoffing. “Yeah,” he huffs. “I know. I brought more, so slow down.”
Affection for your co-pilot warms you. The affection is certainly one-sided, but you don’t mind. In the four months you’ve been co-piloting with Jihoon, he still hasn’t opened up to you.
Despite having made the drop five times together, Jihoon still brings almost nothing to the drift. You catch pieces of him, tiny snippets of memories or emotions or thoughts as you become one. You slowly use them to fit together the pieces of the Jihoon puzzle you’ve been working on every day.
It helps that you live in such close proximity, too. Jihoon’s habits speak far more for them than his words ever could. Like the way he wakes up at the same exact time every day and tries to be asleep at the same time every night, or the way he meticulously cleans your shared living space every Sunday, or the way he starts every sparring session with the same eight-stretch sequence.
He still doesn’t talk about him in your time slotted for getting to know one another. It’s not therapy exactly, but every pilot team has designated time daily to talk things out. To work through things that are bothering them, or to talk about themselves. The more pilots know one another, the better they fight.
You know virtually nothing about Jihoon. He doesn’t talk about himself during sessions, so you talk for him. You tell him about your childhood, about piloting with your mom, about how much you miss Maya. He eventually starts asking questions. Provides responses.
“We’re on the drop schedule tomorrow,” Jihoon notes, flicking through his tablet on the table next to him. “It’s graveyard shift. Do you want me to ask Mingyu and Wonwoo to switch to the day shift?”
“Nah, I’ll be fine.”
He gives you a critical look. “You’re awful in the mornings.”
“Not when I’m fighting.” You snatch more bacon. “Would you rather me or Mingyu in a jaeger at two in the morning?”
“Point taken.” Both of you know the only person more miserable than you in the morning is Kim Mingyu. Jihoon nudges you with your elbow and gestures to the bacon. “Finish up. We have to workout soon.”
“Ugh.”
He smirks. “Cardio day.”
“Ji, no.”
He ignores the nickname. “So much running.”
Now you know he’s doing it on purpose. There are few things in your training schedule that bring Jihoon joy like torturing you during scheduled workouts. He had started slating them each day, determined to harden your conditioning despite the fact that you’re already in decent shape.
Decent is a word in his vocabulary. He only expects perfection and even then, you’re pretty sure it’s unattainable. Still, you finish your breakfast and let him lead you to the gym, peppering him with whining and protests the entire way. He ignores them with a placid smile, hands linked behind his back as he walks.
When you get to the gym, there are other pilots and workers using their free time to exercise. There’s only a single treadmill open, which Jihoon gets on easily. You start to edge your way toward yoga mats with the intention of not working out at all when he leans over to look at the time on the treadmill next to him.
“You’ve been on it for an hour,” he grunts at some boy who looks like a cadet. “Off you go.”
The cadet scrambles off, almost forgetting to turn the treadmill off before he does. He bows in respect before shooting off like a frightened school of fish. Jihoon turns to you, grinning as he pats the machine. “For you.”
“Thanks,” you deadpan. “Just what I’ve always wanted.”
Jihoon’s grin only grows when you step onto the treadmill as he leans over the rail and turns it on, pressing the incline and speed buttons until you’re walking at a warm up pace. Which, for Jihoon, is a solid jog.
As you jog, you fish out headphones from your pocket. You pop them in your ears, careful not to trip as the sound of classical fills your ears. You’ve taken to using Jihoon’s playlists, despite originally making fun of him for it. You find that it distracts you more than you thought it would, and it helps that you feel like a character in a fantasy movie running to an epic soundtrack.
You’ve adopted a lot of things that Jihoon does. It happens naturally, especially the more you drift. You find yourself putting on Mozart instead of Tchaikovsky or taking your coffee black on accident or scolding others in the training room for not being precise and perfect.
Ghost Drifting is what some call it. You don’t think you’re quite there yet, being that Jihoon still hides half of himself away. But sometimes, even outside of the drift, you feel him in your mind like a phantom presence.
After your workout, you go through the same day you have everyday: meditate back to back, sparring, and your talking session, which mostly consists of you both sitting next to one another looking over your drop footage and noting areas for improvement.
Jihoon’s shoulder is pressed against yours, his eyes focused on the tablet in your hands, tracking the slowed down movement of the video. He taps the screen, pointing to the right side of the jaeger that he pilots. “I was a bit slow here.”
“It’s not your reaction time, you’d never punch that slow. That’s the arm that took damage two fights ago against Razorbill. Let’s talk to the J-Tech team and see if there’s a delay in the receptor. It might be a split second off.” He snorts and you glance sidelong at him. “What?”
“You don’t think I’d punch slow?”
“No.”
Jihoon raises his brows. You can feel his surprise at your seriousness to his question. He obviously expected you to turn it into a harmless jab, but you mean it when you say, “Your reaction time has been perfect for the last sixteen drops you’ve made. If there’s a delay, it’s the machinery. Not you.”
He looks away from you, nodding once. The tips of his ears are red and he mutters, “Thanks.”
Instead of pressing the matter like you want to, you smile and hit play again, both of you focusing on the screen once more to talk through the remainder of your allotted bonding time.
In your room, Jihoon turns on the speakers, the sound of Pas de Deux from the Nutcracker floods the room. You pause by the wardrobe where you’re shucking your boots off, gazing at Jihoon as he moves into the kitchen silently, taking out two mugs, a box of peppermint tea and a kettle.
He doesn’t feel your eyes on him, going about making tea for the both of you. He hums along to the song - you don’t know when he became so familiar with it, his movements comfortable. Practiced. Relaxed. A swell of affection overtakes you, realizing you don’t know when he started making you tea. Or putting on Tchaikovsky for you. Or not biting at you every two seconds.
Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. You turn away from him, busying yourself with your boots to spare him from making an excuse as to why he’s making you tea. Because you’ll know he’ll give one, provide you with some sort of excuse that it isn’t a favor or because you’re friends, but rather something like the tea bags are too large for one or I have to boil the water anyway.
When you’re done changing for bed, he’s standing next to you, mug extended. He doesn’t look at you, instead finding interest in the cameras outside the Shatterdome. You take the mug from him and say nothing, knowing he’d rather you not thank him.
Mug in hand, you climb carefully into the top bunk, crossing your legs as you nestle the mug next to you, pulling out your tablet to read. He gets into bed without a word, both of you existing in comfortable silence, just like Jihoon prefers.
-
Alarms wrench you from sleep. You’re thrown forward in your bed, red flashing on the TV as the kaiju alert system wails. You wipe sleep from your face as you haul yourself over the edge of the bunk, landing next to Jihoon who is pulling off his sweats in favor of cargo pants as quickly as he can. You feel dizzy and off balance as you do the same, shoving one foot in your pants and hopping on one leg as your foot catches while trying to shove in the other.
Jihoon grabs you by the elbow, holding you steady as you shove your foot through the leg of your pants and shoot him a grateful look. He nods, letting you go to finish zipping his pants and digging around for a shirt. He can’t seem to find one, cursing under his breath as he roots around. You toss him one of yours instead, grabbing a pair of socks and throwing yourself onto his bunk to yank them on, quickly followed by shoes.
“Fuck,” Jihoon mutters as he looks up at the screen, the red painting him in hellish light. “We’ve got a Cat-4. They’re dropping Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker with us.”
“Dino and Wylie weren’t even on rotation.”
“They’re not making the same mistake they did with Solar Saber.” He pulls out a tablet, squinting against the glow. “We're the last line of defense. Hao and Jun will take point with Fang Striker.”
“Got it. Let’s go.”
You take off at a jog, easily keeping pace with one another as you go. There are jaeger teams moving about the building getting ready, the alarms still sounding as you navigate to the jaeger bay. Your team is already there and ready to fit you into Drivesuits, sliding each piece of armor on with practiced care.
Jihoon catches your eyes from where he stands across from you, letting a team member slide his hand into a metal glove. His eyes are dark as the stormy sea outside, a bottomless well that you can’t seem to dive down into, but want to. His lips twitch a little and he gives you a nod, which you’ve come to understand is Jihoon for I trust you.
Screens blink to life as you enter the Conn-Pod. Closing the front shield of your helmet, you immediately turn on open comms, listening as the Marshall and LOCCENT Controller on duty - you think it’s Nainsi - talking Minghao and Junhui through their neural handshake.
The spine of your Drivesuit connects to the Conn-pod, your heads up display coming to life. You feel the metal whirring and clicking into place, rotating your shoulders and flexing your fingers as your jaeger team finishes connecting Jihoon to the Conn-pod before exciting and shutting the door firmly.
“Storm Breaker ready to drop,” Jihoon announces.
“Engaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence,” Nainsi answers. “Engaging neural handshake in three… two… one…”
It’s like jumping off a cliff into freezing cold water. You feel the flash of cold, vision going white for a split second before you feel Jihoon’s calm flow through you. He’s steady like an icy river, his thoughts, feelings and emotions hidden down in their dark depth where they can’t bother either of you.
You’re like rapids, rushing thoughts and feelings, pouring everything through the drift at him. He takes it in stride, used to the white-capped rush of information he gets from you each time you connect. Jihoon adjusts easily, already hitting buttons on his screen as images from your day flash through your mind - including you watching him make you tea in the kitchen.
Jihoon says nothing about that. He says nothing about the gentle wave of your embarrassment either as Nainsi says, “Neural handshake strong and holding.”
Chan’s voice crackles through comms. “Fang Striker on standby for neural handshake.”
“Copy. Storm Breaker prepare for drop in three… two… one.”
Dropping feels like falling through the core of the earth. For a few moments, it’s a flightless feeling as you fall through the Shatterdome. Then you land, knees absorbing impact as the head of the jaeger falls into the neck socket, locking in.
“Calibrating right side,” Jihoon announces. “Calibrated.”
“Calibrating left side. Calibrated. Ready to engage.”
Nainsi confirms calibration and directs, “Storm Breaker, take north point defense two miles from the shoreline. Hold that line. Fang Striker, engaging in pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence in three… two… one.”
You tune out the rest of Fang Striker’s drop as you and Jihoon behind to charge into the bay. The windshield in front of you immediately froths with sea salt and wind, battering down on the jaeger as the night sea surges against Storm Breaker’s legs. You cut through the water like a knife, carving your way toward the defense line as the jumphawk team flies into place.
“Five minutes until surface breach.”
“Oh! Hi, Vernon,” you chirp.
“Sup?”
“Would kill for a coffee right now. And like, a bagel. Or hashbrowns?”
Vernon groans. “Mood.”
Jihoon snorts but says nothing. Minghao’s voice comes over the comms, soft and cool. “Blue, everytime I drop with you you’re talking about food.”
“Have you considered that Ji doesn't feed me?”
“So it’s Ji now, huh?”
“Don’t get her started,” Jihoon grunts at Minghao’s teasing. “One mile out from the line of defense.”
Chan joins the conversation, voice chipper. “Fang Striker ready to pursue. Also, good morning everyone!”
Everyone groans in misery collectively instead of greeting him back. Wylie’s voice cracks like a whip as she spits out, “Be nice to him.”
Everyone greets Chan after that. Jihoon shakes his head, amused. “Fang Striker, escort Emperor’s Mandate to engage. Four minutes until surface breach.”
Black ocean ripples outward in front of Storm Breaker as you move. You near the defense line, the city lights like a sea of stars at Storm Breaker’s back. Air support circles overhead, monitoring kaiju activity and helping with positioning. You see the spotlights glinting on the surface, waiting for a kaiju to surface.
To the east of your position, Fang Striker and Emperor’s Mandate cut through the water. Fang Striker’s red paint is violent against the night, but her build is small next to the towering white fury of Minghao and Junhui’s jaeger.
“Storm Breaker in position,” Jihoon calls. You both stop moving, your jaeger coming to a standstill as the water sloshes around your waist.
“Standby, Storm Breaker. Kaiju breach in one minute.”
“Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker in position. Ready to engage.”
“Engage at your discretion.”
Comms go silent as the strike team waits for the kaiju to appear. It’s the calm before the storm, the silence pregnant with tension. You feel a tentative brush of Jihoon’s thoughts against you. You turn and glance at him, surprised.
Jihoon is watching you with a stormy expression, thoughtful. “You thinking about letting me in that big ass head of yours?” You tease, just in your personal comms.
He smirks and shakes his head, breaking eye contact to look out the front of Storm Breakers cockpit. “Not a chance.”
It’s a lie. You know it's a lie because you feel it is as sure as you feel your own glittering satisfaction that he’s thinking about it. That Jihoon is considering opening the door for you, even a fraction.
Your satisfaction only lasts a second as the kaiju breaches the surface in front of Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker. You watch in strained silence as the jumphawk team begins reporting what they can about the makeup of the kaiju.
Emperor’s Mandate engages immediately, their metal saber chain shooting from the right arm and punching through the shoulder of the kaiju. An electromagnetic pulse goes down the chain and it goes taught like a sword as Junhui slices upward, attempting to sever the kaiju’s arm.
The kaiju lands a hard punch to Emperor’s Mandate in the middle, sending them backward into the ocean as the chain-turned-sword pulls out as they fall. Fang Striker is there before the kaiju can attack again, charging and tackling the kaiju at the waist. She’s not built for heavy fighting, but Chan and Wylie are vicious, clawing at the kaiju with their metal claws.
“Fang Striker, roll!” Minghao orders. Fang Stricker does, using the kaiju as weight to rock themselves over and under the creature, vanishing beneath the water’s surface as Emperor’s Mandate lands a punch to the kaiju’s back with a plasmacaster, turning the night blue as the sparks flare. “Push and we’ll pull.”
Salt spray mists the windshield as you and Jihoon watch in silence. The kaiju is a massive, hulking beast with spikes down its spine and a nasty club tail that catches Fang Striker in the knees, taking her down. The two jaeger teams work in flawless tandem, punching when the other ducks, tackling with the other falls.
In a way, it’s beautiful to watch the fury of what a jaeger can do. Your lips twitch upward as the fight starts to go their way, Emperor’s Mandate severing the leg of the monster as Fang Striker pounces on it, sinking both clawed hands into its shoulder blades and tearing through its hide.
“Storm Breaker-” Vernon’s panicked voice gets cut off as your world turns upside down.
You feel yourself slam against the restraints of the Conn-pod connecting you to the jaeger. A surprised shriek escapes you as you flip head-over-feet in Storm Breaker, crashing into the ocean with a violent slam. A kaiju raises itself from the water, rearing its head like a cobra as it shrieks, the sound shaking the entire hull.
“What the fuck?” Jihoon screams over comms. Storm Breaker rolls as the kaiju strikes like a snake, barely missing you as it hits empty water. “Where the fuck did that come from?”
“There was no reading!” Vernon yells back. “The signature appeared a half second before it attacked like it had some sort of stealth mode!”
“Kaiju don’t have fucking stealth mode, Vernon!”
“Maybe it got an iOS update man, I don’t know!”
There’s no time to care about why or how a kaiju isn’t appearing on the reporting team’s screen. Whatever level it is, it’s fast. You and Jihoon get to your feet just as it strikes again, fangs striking at the windshield. It doesn’t crack, but the sound of kaiju bone against the glass isn’t promising.
Storm Breaker stumbles back a few steps before regaining footing. You both strike with your right fist, slamming into the neck area of the beast as it winds up to strike again. It looks like a massive cobra, coils and coils of kaiju body gathering each time it tries.
A shudder vibrates through the jaeger as the punch lands, sending the kaiju back several hundred yards. You don’t give it a moment to recover, both of you charging as you equip short swords perfect for close-combat fighting and slicing.
“I think it’s too fast to pick up a reading,” you shout over comms. “It moves so quickly!”
Fighting is a careful rhythm. You and Jihoon find it immediately, tuning out the sound of the other fight as you zero in on your target. It doesn’t matter that the kaiju took you by surprise, it doesn’t matter that Jihoon still hasn’t let you in, it doesn’t matter that somewhere, you have other friends in just as much danger.
What matters is this. The feeling of rage that flows from Jihoon - or maybe it’s you - as you both savagely plunge a sword in the serpent body of your enemy. What matters is the way you and Jihoon flow, two rivers with the same curves and dips, sliding around the kaiju as you strike again, spraying ichor into the sea.
Storm Breaker’s sword extends from the right arm, reflecting the city lights briefly before you cut sideways. The blade slides clean through like a knife through paper. You and Jihoon both scream savagely in unison as the head flies separate from the body, sailing in the air for a moment before crashing into the surface as blood spurts from the main body.
It flails for a moment longer before crashing under ocean froth and water. Victory surges through you and you look across the Conn-pod where Jihoon is grinning at you, stars in his eyes. You feel a moment of elation, laughter bubbling to your lips as Nainsi recalls you to the Dome, Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker standing victorious.
“That’s kill number six?” Jihoon asks, voice delighted. “We’re on a fucking roll.”
“I guess I’m not so bad a co-pilot after all, right?” He rolls his eyes but you get the feeling the tips of his ears have turned red. “Come on, Ji. Tell me I’m a good co-pilot.”
“No way.”
“Come onnnn.”
He levels a look at you, dark eyes churning. He licks his lips, opening and closing his mouth before he finally murmurs, “Can I show you instead?”
The left foot of Storm Breaker is yanked from under you. You go down screaming, feeling the impact of the seafloor as you go down in the shallows hard. Pain shoots up your left arm as you slam against the restraints keeping you attached to the Conn-pod. Lights flash in your heads up display and a sensor starts going off, the left arm of the jaeger going dead as it loses connection.
Jihoon is screaming your name over comms as you grit your teeth, and gather your bearings. You suck in a sharp breath as you both scramble to get Storm Breaker on her feet. “Left arms gone cold,” Jihoon yells over comms. You manage to get Storm Breaker to her feet as you both throw out your right arm, bracing for impact as the kaiju’s head strikes again. “It grew back two fucking heads!”
“Fang Striker pursuing!” It’s Chan voice over the comms. “Three miles out from contact.”
One of the heads strikes at the helm again, knocking into Storm Breaker hard. Your world rocks as you shove with the full force of the right side of the jaeger, thrusters turning on as you launch the kaiju and its twin heads backward.
“How the fuck do we kill this thing?” you screech, charging toward the creature as it slides through the water, coiling to strike again. “If we cut off its head again, it’s just going to grow another.”
“Stab it through the head? I don’t fucking know!”
Snatches of panic and anger and concern seize you for a split second, it feels like your own but you realize it’s not, Jihoon’s feelings bleeding into you like a fresh wound as you strike at the kaiju again. Its tail loops around the left leg again and Jihoon’s worry spikes, so raw and unfamiliar that when he lifts his foot, you don’t lift yours.
Storm Breaker stalls, filled with mechanic screeching as the two of you clash in the drift in a moment of indecision. A storm of emotions batters down on you. Your lungs squeeze as you feel yourself torn away from the fight and into Jihoon’s memories, each one flitting by so fast you can barely resonate with them.
A little boy bullied by bigger kids. A woman being torn out of a home screaming in the hand of a kaiju. The sound of Mozart drowning out the screams of destruction. Young Jihoon crying in his room alone, nursing bruised ribs and knees. Teenage Jihoon fighting back. A man named Haneul that has seen all of Jihoon’s scars.
“... out of alignment!”
Words crash through you as you feel a tremor go through Storm Breaker. Jihoon’s thoughts are like a hurricane tearing at your foundation.
Hatred when he meets you for the first time. Pride when he makes his first successful drop. Grief when Haneul retired. Resentment when he’s reassigned to a new pilot.
Jihoon screams your name but you are drowning in him. Jihoon’s emotional dam has broken and years worth of who he is comes out in a torrent.
Jihoon joins the pilot program because he wants to get away from the home. The smell of books and oil lanterns. Greasy fingers and fumes. A blue mat rushing up to meet him as he falls.
“Emperor’s Mandate two miles out. Preparing to engage!”
Bitter coffee. Celebrating Haneul’s birthday. The sting of Chan biting him mid spar. Pretending he didn’t hate his childhood. Hiding the scared little boy behind a controlled exterior.
“She’s chasing the rabbit!”
Chasing the rabbit. You hear the word and vaguely realize you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole of Jihoon’s memories and emotions, completely unused to them in a space where you’re connected intimately. You try to gather your bearings, shutting down the images flashing across your mind that don’t belong to you as Storm Breaker gets rocked again.
“Shit,” Jihoon swears. “Blue, come on. Come back to me. I’m sorry. Don’t chase my memories!”
A kite against a blue sky. Two paper boats on a lake. Your smile as you hang upside down off the bunk bed. Soonyoung giving Jihoon a birthday cake. Wylie in a hospital bed. Jeonghan and Joshua accepting pilots of the year.
“I’m sorry,” Jihoon whispers, both in your mind and outloud. “Come back.”
You can do this. You can withstand the storm of Jihoon’s consciousness. You shake him out of your head, sorting out your thoughts and his. It’s nearly impossible to understand where you end and he begins, but you manage to hold back the wake of his uncontrolled consciousness.
Blinking, you come back to the present. There are lights and warnings going off as Storm Breaker takes another strike from the kaiju. Fang Striker is taking on its other head, the kaiju splitting focus between two jaeger teams as it tries to split open the top of your jaeger. Wylie and Chan are yelling in comms and Emperor’s Mandate is in pursuit to help you disengage.
The left arm of your jaeger is still cold, totally disconnected from the rest of the machinery. You run through a list of fighting options with one arm down. The right side of the jaeger is fitted with a sword, explosive and a plasma caster in the first of the hand. But the jaeger overall-
“Light it up,” you tell Jihoon. His relief crashing into you like a tidal wave. He understands what you want to do immediately. You feel his agreement rather than see it as you both start to tap controls on your control panels. “Fang Striker, prepare for lighting strike!”
“Fry this motherfucker!” Wylie screams. “I fucking hate snakes!”
The nuclear reactor at the core of your jaeger starts to charge. From the top down, your jaeger begins to power down, lights flickering out and screens going dead. Your heart hammers as the kaiju slams into the head of the jaeger over and over again, trying to crack the helm wide open. Storm Breaker takes the savage blows as all but the nuclear core shuts off.
A low hum begins to sound at the heart of the machine. You feel the vibration tingle in your spine as all of the energy flow focuses in the center of the jaeger, slowly charging and pulling electricity from everywhere else. It’s a slow process, the kaiju beating down on you as the core winds up.
“Fuck,” Jihoon swears at a particularly harsh strike. “This fucking bitch!”
“We’ve got it,” you tell him. You look across the Conn-pod at him, his face pale behind the shield of his helmet. “She’s not going to break, Ji.”
You feel your words resonate in him. His affection is startling. He hides nothing from you now, every thought he’s ever had of you, every moment his eyes lingered on you too, every second he realized he didn’t dislike you at all - it’s all there for you to see. His soul laid bare.
“She’s ready!” Your smile is like the sun. “Light her up!”
Jihoon hits a button on his panel and the air turns to static. A ripple of energy passes through you, only lasting a split second before a bolt of white lightning explodes from the center of the jaeger. The world turns white, forcing you to shield your eyes as you hear the crack of deafening thunder.
Ears ringing, you lower your hand as the light fades, blue sparks of electricity zapping across the ocean in a mile-wide radius. Smoking, the kaiju falls backwards, ocean spraying up on either side as it hits the surface of the sea. You can barely hear Fang Striker over the sound of the high-pitched whine in your ears.
You wait, but the kaiju doesn’t rise again. The jumphawk team circles above, waiting for another kaiju signature, but none comes.
Sagging in your Conn-pod, you glance over at Jihoon. “Does that count as one or two kills? I’m so fucking over monster fighting today. I want a goddamn grilled cheese.”
-
Jihoon is a wreck. Not only does he visibly hover near your medical bed as the attending medic tends to your arm, ensuring it’s not broken, but you can still feel him like he’s attached to you in the drift. His concern is touching, but there’s also anger there. Not at you but at himself, boiling under the surface of his newfound worry.
“So she’ll be okay?” he clarifies again, looking at the doctor with a hard stare. The man tending to your arm looks nervous under the sharp gaze of a jaeger pilot. “You’re sure it’s not broken? It better not be broken.”
“Jihoon,” you say gently. He crosses his arms over his chest, not taking his eyes off the doctor as he stares him down. “I’m fine. It’s just some bruising.”
“Just some bruising. Your arm practically fell off.”
“It did not. Let the doctor finish, Ji.”
He softens, turning to sit on an empty cot as he sulks. You watch him with muted amusement. His bottom lip juts out slightly, put out by you not letting him baby you. Cute, you think.
Thankfully, the arm isn’t damaged. You’d bruised it pretty severely when Storm Breaker went down and you slammed against your restraints, but otherwise you’re unharmed. Some pain meds, ice and rest should do the trick, so you and Jihoon leave the medical bay with the doctor’s advice in hand and Jihoon muttering under his breath.
Back in your room, Jihoon sits you on his bottom bunk to examine the arm himself, holding you carefully as though he can break you at any moment. You let him have this, watching as his eyebrows crease and mouth twists while he rotates your arm delicately.
He has pretty hands. You’ve always thought so, but now you watch his slender fingers brush over your sore arm with care, feeling a shiver threaten the base of your spine.
“You should ask for a reassignment.” Jihoon’s words land like a brick. You look up at him, eyes flashing with confusion. “I nearly killed you today. It was unprofessional and shameful as your co-pilot to knock you out of alignment like that. You don’t deserve that.”
“It happens, Jihoon. Fighting in a jaeger isn’t always perfect.”
“Well I am. And today I wasn’t. Request a new pilot, the Marshall will understand. People don’t last with me, it’ll be no risk to you.”
“I’m not requesting a new pilot. You’re who I want to drift with.”
He starts to pace. “Why? I’m obviously still that scared little boy who used to hide in his room alone.”
Even without having felt his emotions in the drift, Jihoon makes so much more sense to you now. You reach out to him, taking him by the arms to stop his pacing. He won’t look at you, averting his eyes elsewhere. Your heart squeezes knowing that the reason Jihoon kept you out is because he didn’t want you to see who he was before he was the controlled, perfect jaeger pilot.
“You’re not, Jihoon.” You squeeze his arm to emphasize your words. “But even if you were, I trust that little boy too. He was empathetic and kind.” Jihoon glances at you, unsure. “Don’t run away from me now that you’ve let me in. I’ve seen you and I still want you. Unless you don’t want me.”
“Of course I do.”
“It’s hard to tell with you, you know?”
His gaze drops down to your mouth. “I’ll show you, then.”
Without another word, Jihoon grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him fully. Your arms slip around his neck, holding onto him for balance as he crashes his mouth to yours. His lips are warm and soft in contrast to the ferocity he kisses you with, fingers digging into your hips, mouth hungry.
You meet him with equal fervor, fingers tangling in the long hair at the nape of his neck. He grunts when your nails scratch against his scalp, biting into your lower lip. He presses his tongue to the seam of your mouth and you let him in, sighing as his tongue brushes against yours, eager to taste you.
Kissing Jihoon is like standing in the eye of a storm. He’s brutal and calm, sharp and soft. His heart beats against yours, his chest heaving when he pulls away from your mouth to press wet kisses to the shape of your jaw and down your throat.
One of Jihoon’s hands slides up your back, fingers dancing along your spine until he reaches the base of your neck. He grabs you firmly, pulling your head back to give him better access to the softness of your throat. You let out a breathy sound and he groans low in his throat.
“Don’t make that sound,” he whispers, biting your neck gently and chasing the sting with his tongue. “I’ll fucking crumble.”
“So crumble.”
“Fuck.”
Jihoon starts pushing you backward, your steps a tangle of feet. It might be the most uncoordinated the two of you have ever been, caught up in the heat of each other’s mouths as he kisses you feverishly again. It’s messy and spit-slicked, making you light headed. Your knees hit his bottom bunk and you crash backward, Jihoon on top of you.
Your hands seek the warmth of his skin, sliding under the hem of his shirt over his flexing stomach to his firm chest. He lets you rake your nails across him as he settles on top of you, his hands planted on either side of your head and a knee slotted between your legs.
Having him this close is everything. Months of not being able to have him entirely or the way you want has made you ravenous for him. You pull at his shirt, nipping at his lip and whining. He laughs darkly, leaning up from you to grab the back of his shirt and pull it up over his head.
He lets you do what you want, content to let you run your fingers over the ridges of his stomach, the narrow shape of his waist, the firmness of his chest. He dives back down to attach his mouth to your collarbone, pulling the neckline of your shirt out of the way for access.
“Just take it off,” you complain, shivering as he continues his assault.
“Mmmf - difficult.”
This is not the composed Jihoon you’re used to. This is the raw, unedited version of him you’ve been begging to see. This is the storm letting loose because he knows you can take it - want to take it.
Jihoon does get tired of your shirt, growling as he grabs it firmly and tears it up and over your head. You laugh as he does, loving the way he scowls and presses you back down, biting your jaw as he does. He palms your tits over your bra, pinching your nipples through the fabric. You squeal and arch into him, head pressing into the mattress.
“Don’t laugh at me,” he huffs, mouth trailing butterfly-soft kisses toward your chest.
“Sensitive?” you jest, dropping a hand between your bodies to press against the front of his pants. He hisses, hips twitching as you press against his cock. You grin wickedly as he pants raggedly against your skin, letting you squeeze him. “Yeah, you are.”
Jihoon drags his knee up the bed, pressing between your legs. A bolt of pleasure surges through you and you whimper, making him smirk against your chest. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
He drops a hand down to your waist, squeezing. “Didn’t sound like nothing. Come on,” he urges. “You know you want to.”
So you do. You roll your hips forward, pressing your clothed cunt against his thigh. The layers of clothes block too much of the sensation and you press harder, desperate for stimulation. A whine drips from your mouth as you grow frustrated. You feel the curve of Jihoon’s smile against the curve of your left breast as he places a wet kiss there.
“Having a hard time?”
“Jihoon.”
One hand stays fixed on your hips, urging you to continue to grind into him despite it not being enough. The other slides up your front, his fingers light as feathers. He hooks a finger in the cup of your bra and pulls downward. He drags his mouth downward, giving your nipple a playful flick with his tongue.
“Jihoon.”
He hums thoughtfully, circling your pert bud with his tongue. A tremor goes through you and you squeeze your eyes shut. He closes his mouth on you and sucks gently, making you gasp. You continue to roll your hips into him as he scrapes his teeth against you gently.
Cool air hits your spit-slicked chest as he kisses sloppily over to your other breast, repeating his ministrations. It feels so good you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. His skin is hot against yours and you’re desperate to feel more of him, hands pulling at his shoulders as he sucks wet marks into your chest.
“More,” you whisper. “God, please more.”
He knows what you mean when you say more because of course he does. He rids you of your bra entirely, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He works the buttons on your pants next, deft fingers moving quickly before tugging them down your thighs. He lets you pull his cargos down and throw them, but it’s as far as you get before he’s lavishing attention to your tits again.
“Try now,” he pants.
His knee is pressed right against the apex of your thighs. You don’t care that he can feel the damp cloth against his skin. You slow grind on his knee, feeling the pressure infinitely better with just a thin layer of underwear between you. A sigh of relief escapes you and he grunts, pleased as you keep going, thighs shaking.
You could drown in him and not care. He smells like spearmint and soap, his hair soft as silk as it slides between your fingers. He gives a sound of approval everytime you card your hands through his hair, especially when he gives you a sharp bite and you tug.
A tingle settles in the depth of your stomach. You feel like you could almost come this way, getting off with just his leg between your thighs and his mouth sucking greedily at your tits. You feel yourself tighten, hips pressing further but it’s not quite enough.
He reads you like a book. Jihoon slides his knee back and replaces it with his hand, fingers delicately pressing against your clit. It makes you see stars, going rigid in his grasp as he gently circles it a few times before dragging his fingers back down to press at your core through your underwear.
“So god damn wet,” he lets go of your nipple with a pop. He hooks a finger through your underwear and pulls them to the side, his knuckles brushing your sticky folds. “So pretty for me.”
His compliment makes you shy. You hide your face behind your hands and he laughs darkly, letting you. He’s already seen all of you in the drift, but this is different. More personal. Real.
The press of a finger into your cunt is slow and maddening. You immediately want more, desperate for it. He doesn’t give it to you right away, taking his time as he busies his mouth with your chest and neck, content to finger fuck you at a leisurely pace.
When he hooks his finger and presses right into that soft spot, you seize up. He grins, finding exactly what he was looking for. His mouth catches yours again, a tangle of tongue and teeth as he presses another finger in. You squirm against the mattresses, pinned under his weight. The heel of his hand presses into your clit, adding pressure as he strokes your front walls rhythmically.
You’re greedy for him. You suck his tongue into your mouth and he moans, letting you do what you want. The wet squelch of his hand between your legs only spurs you on, his name dripping from your lips in a whine as you cling to him, feeling the start of your orgasm.
Jihoon knows it’s coming. His pace is more intent and he shuffles up the bed to get a better angle. Your toes curl and you writhe against the sheets, feeling the way they stick to your balmy skin as he works you closer and closer to an orgasm.
He presses a soft kiss under your ear, chaste compared to the mess he makes of your cunt. “Come on,” his voice is husky and gentle. “Let go for me.”
It’s his for me that sends you over the edge. Your legs squeeze around his hand but he keeps at it, pressing tender kisses to your collarbones as you twitch under his touch. Your orgasm starts to wane and turn into overstimulation, your panting turning into whimpering, nails digging into the back of his neck, unsure if you’re trying to push him away or keep him there.
Jihoon retracts his hand slowly. You feel the way you drip down the curve of your ass as you pant, staring up at the bottom of your bunk trying to gulp down air. He nudges his nose against your jaw, bringing your attention back to the present as his dark eyes look up at you.
Your voice comes out rough from use. “Want you.”
The corner of his mouth lifts and he nods, lifting himself off you to let you peel your underwear the rest of the way down as he works his briefs down his thighs. You let out a squeak when you look up to see him using the cum on his fingers to stroke himself, head tilted back a little, eyes heavy.
“What?” he murmurs, dropping his gaze down to you. His eyes are fucked out just from getting you off and it drives you insane, this visual of him blotchy with warmth, hair sticking to his forehead.
“You’re so hot,” you blurt and he pauses, raising a brow at you. “Don’t stop.”
“You like when I touch myself in front of you?” You nod, chewing on your lip as you stare. He grins and starts stroking himself slowly again, squeezing his flushed tip as he does, beads of precum dripping over the edge. “I’ll give you a show later. If I don’t fuck you in the next five minutes I will nut in my hand.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t hate it.”
“Oh? You want me to cum in my hand instead of that pretty pussy?” You purse your lips, staring back at him with a pout. “Didn’t think so.” He laughs and shuffles on his knees toward you, shaking his head and groaning when your legs fall open automatically for him, revealing the mess he’s made. “Can’t believe I made myself wait for this.”
“How stupid of you.”
Your stomach flutters when Jihoon lowers himself, cockhead pressing at your entrance. You ache for him - in more ways than one. Jihoon feels it too, hanging his head and letting his hair cascade around his face like a silvery halo as he slowly presses in.
His name falls from your mouth as you gasp, feeling the pressure of him as he sinks into your cunt slowly. You feel full and overwhelmed and perfect all at once, a myriad of feelings peppering your senses until he’s fully sheathed to the hilt.
Jihoon’s breathing is ragged for a moment as you clench around him, throbbing. He sucks in air sharply between his teeth, one hand going to your hip to press you into the mattress while the other lands next to your head, bearing his weight.
“Thank you for waiting for me.” You almost don’t hear him when he says it, his voice so soft. “When you didn’t have to.”
Your arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. His nose brushes against yours and you feel your adoration for him grow. “Of course I did. You were meant for me.”
Prompted by your words, he nods and pulls his hips back slowly. The glide is easy with how wet you are. He thrusts back in with a hard snap, stealing your breath. The ability to string together coherent words vanishes as Jihoon sets a punctuated space.
“Fuck,” you whisper.
Fuck is right. Jihoon angles his hips perfectly, kissing your spot with each thrust with a deadly precision you’ve only seen in battle. Of course he fucks like he fights with absolute accuracy, driving you right toward an orgasm within a few minutes. Your fingers tangle in your hair, mouth pressed against his forehead where it rests against you.
His hand slides from your hips to your thigh, slipping under it and hiking it upward. It deepens the angle and you let out a loud sound, unable to catch your breath as sparks fly behind your eyelids.
“Holy shit, like that.” You’re a mess under him and he knows it, driving his hips faster as you continue to fall apart. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”
“Yeah?” he asks, almost taunting. “Gonna come like this?”
“Yes, please don’t stop.”
And he doesn’t. He keeps going, driving you to the edge until you’re coming around him with enough force to knock heads with him. He mumbles something that sound like ouch but you’re too far gone, squeezing the fucking life out of him as you come before going boneless.
Jihoon pulls out and flips you, your world spinning as you land face first in his pillows. They smell like him and you love it, sliding your hands up to grip at the pillows as he drags your knees up, ass toward him. Sweat slicks your back and you try to take in a few ragged breaths, turning your head to the side to watch him sidelong.
His dark eyes dip to your ass and he curses, shifting backward so that he can lean down, hands prying your thighs apart to make way for his tongue as it slides up your pussy.
“Oh shit,” you wheeze.
He practically purrs against you, tongue licking slowly back and forth. The grip on his pillows tightens, one of your hands shooting back to grab his hair, holding him to you. He laughs, the vibration going straight through you as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over it.
“I love when you pull my hair,” he admits, panting as he takes a breath.
His tongue dives back in, pressing against your clenching hole. It is maddening the way he works you with his mouth. You feel like you’re coasting to another high. He knows exactly what to do, knows when to slow down, knows when to speed up. Jihoon has had access to you for months and it shows, navigating your body like it’s second nature to him.
“I’m gonna come again.” It comes out as a whine, fingers twisting in his locks. “Shit.”
“So come again.”
You do. It’s not as hard as the first one but it’s just as good, your orgasm shivering through you. Warmth floods you and you bite into his pillow, muting the loud sound that spills from your lips.
Jihoon doesn’t give you a second to recover before he’s up on his knees and pushing back into you. His hand cracks across your ass and you let out a startled yelp, earning laughter from both of you. Spent and delirious, your hand finds purchase on his wrist, holding on to him as he fucks you fast and hard.
He lets go of where he holds your hip to lace your fingers instead, pressing your linked fingers against the curve of your ass as he drills his hips forward. Somehow the hand holding is more intimate, your throat screwing shut as Jihoon chases after his own high.
With a muted murmur of your name, he comes. His thrusts turn messy, each press of his hips against your ass met with a wet sound. You don’t even care about the slick running down your legs, absolutely spent and sweaty and tired and a little in love with the man behind you.
Slowly, he lets go of your hand. You drop your arm to the mattress, suddenly aware of the ache in your shoulder at the angle. Instead of pulling out, Jihoon leans forward, pressing his sweaty chest to your back, mouth brushing softly against your shoulders.
“Thank you.”
You’re so close to sleep that you barely register what he’s saying. “For what?”
“Withstanding the storm,” he laughs. “Withstanding me and waiting me out.”
“You’re worth it.”
“I hope so. I want to be.”
With care, he detangles himself from you. You make a pitiful sound and he tuts at you, rolling you over on your back so that he can see your face. His eyes swim with more affection than you’ve ever seen, kick starting your heart. You lift a hand and tuck his bangs behind his ear, fingers lingering to brush across his cheek.
“So I’m kind of like your Storm Breaker, right?”
He groans. “Don’t start.”
“What? You literally just said I withstood the storm or whatever.”
“Come on, we’re showering.”
“No way, I am not moving right now.”
“You are not sleeping covered in cum.”
“Ji,” you whine.
He grins and kisses your head, getting out of bed. “Come on then, storm breaker. Withstand me a little more.”
-
Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic
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#woozi smut#woozi fic#woozi svt smut#woozi svt fic#lee jihoon smut#lee jihoon fic#woozi x reader#woozi x you#lee jihoon x reader#lee jihoon x you#svt smut#woozi angst#lee jihoon angst
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do you love me?;
tokrev ver.
synopsis: you/they wake them/you up at 3am.
ft + wc: isagi yoichi, michael kaiser, oliver aiku. around 2k
warnings: gn!reader, no set timelines, pet names, situationship (oliver) extremely! soft! oliver!!, slightly angsty (oliver), slight jealousy (kaiser), kaiser's is suggestive, none really for isagi! aaand that should be it!
a/n: i finally finished something!! i've been in such a rut not only with writing but with reading. TnT. hopefully i can write more once my semester is finished! anyways, i wrote oliver's in basically one sitting kicking my feet n screaming. also ily to zen cus i dropped like the entire fic in their dms LMFAOO. and ily to su for proofreading for me!! hope u enjoy ♡.
ETA: DO NOT TRANSLATE OR SHARE ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM. THANK YOU.
isagi:
you always saw the twinkle in isagi yoichi’s eyes when he talked about soccer. it was cute, charming, and part of what attracted you to him. when the two of you finally started dating, soccer was very much a part of your lives. you’d pop in at practice whenever you could and much to his delight, you’d even try to learn about his idols and the game.
when you studied it on your own, it was fine, you could go at your own pace. but when isagi was there, it was a little different. he always had so much to say, so many techniques and teams to go over. he was like a walking soccer encyclopedia and you appreciated it, even when it got a little overwhelming.
but tonight, as he talked your ear off about noel noa for the nth time, you found yourself dozing off. the black haired striker’s eyes were glued to the match he was playing on the tv, every so often rewinding or slowing down a play to explain it. you tried your best, really, to stay awake but it was nearing 3am and soon enough yoichi was speaking to himself.
“man, that was sick!” he exclaims. he’s about to ask your opinion when he finally looks back to see your head in your arms, asleep. “…oh.”
he rouses you out of sleep, shaking your shoulder gently. when you awaken you’re met with his pouting face. you blink off the drowsiness, rubbing your eyes. “sorry i dozed off…” you reach for the remote, but he stops you. “yoichi?”
“do you love me?” you’re caught off guard by the seriousness in his voice and the intensity of his gaze.
you nod, “of course i do.”
“say it.” it’s not uncharacteristic for him to be intense at times, but the glint in his eye is something you usually only see when he’s playing. you didn’t think you’d see it now and it’s a bit amusing.
“i love you, yoichi.” you say, a smug grin on your face as you poke at his pouty cheeks. “aww, are you upset?”
snapping out of it, he waves your hand away, slightly turning while his cheeks blush bright red. “…no.”
“my baby,” you coo, continuing to reach over and squish his cheeks, “i’m sorry for falling asleep, yoi.”
“it’s okay…” he mumbles, enjoying the attention, “i didn’t realize you were so sleepy.”
“well, it is 3am…” you giggle, pointing to his alarm clock.
it’s cute how fast his head whips around to look. “oh… my bad.” he apologizes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.
“don’t worry about it,” you shrug, before getting up and pulling at his hands. “let’s go to sleep, yeah?”
but isagi pauses, conflicted, before glancing back at the tv. “… just one more play?”
“yoichi!” you whine, the idea of cuddling with your boyfriend in bed being extremely appealing.
“please?” he pleads, hands clasped, and you sigh, giving in to his doe eyes.
“fine. one more. that’s it and then we’re going to bed.” you say, settling down next to him. but if you’re being honest, you’re never immune to isagi yoichi.
the light in his eyes as he rambles and talks to you about his favorite thing always overwhelms anything else. you love him, wholly and fully. and maybe that’s why you don’t mention anything as one play turns to two, which then turns into the entire match. not a single word escapes you as he loads up the next game, telling you “this next one is insane.”
it’s isagi’s turn to fall asleep and as the sun peeks over the horizon, you press a peck to his cheek as you wrap a blanket over his shoulders.
“good night, yoichi.”
kaiser:
michael kaiser was many things, first and foremost a soccer player, secondly, a striker with a god complex and most importantly, your boyfriend. well, perhaps most important to you and although you’re mostly able to cast aside that doubt to love him fully, there are still moments when you just have to hear it.
it’s 3am and kaiser’s in deep sleep, evident by the subtle snores coming from him. in contrast, you’re fully awake and sitting next to him, one finger trailing the expanse of his skin, from the curve of his cheek to the line of his jaw. he stirs slightly, but nonetheless stays asleep and that annoys you.
“michael,” you whine, prodding at his cheek, “do you love me?” his eyelids flutter, face contorting to the singsong of your voice.
“huh?” he responds, eyes opening and brows furrowing into a scowl you continue to prod. he grabs your hand, pulling it away from him. “what is it?”
“do you love me?” you repeat, happily humming at his pretty face.
he tsks before grumbling out a “nein.” he huffs before turning over.
you pause, before scowling yourself. “what did you just say?”
“nein.” he reiterates, closing his eyes. “goodnight.”
you scoff, before shaking him again. “hey… seriously!” but it’s useless. kaiser’s decided it’s time for bed. truth be told, you should probably get some sleep too. but it’s annoying when you do feel like a side character in his story and not his co-lead. fine, you can be petty too.
you round up your pillows, sighing and making sure to climb over him as you get off the bed. he catches your wrist as you try to leave, brow arched.
“where are you going?” he asks, confused.
“the couch.” you deadpan.
“why?”
“i don’t wanna sleep next to someone who doesn’t love me.” you pout, hugging your pillow tightly.
“it was a joke, liebe.” he sighs, pulling you down back into bed. “of course, i love you.”
“hmm… you’re just pacifying me.” you say, hoping he’ll get the hint and finally give you some of the affection you’ve been craving.
and he does, rolling his eyes before pressing a deep kiss to your lips. he makes sure to give you a few more afterwards, your giggle floating around his ears. “happy now?”
“very.” you smile and he smiles back, but you can’t let him think he’s won just yet. “hey, i have a joke too.”
“yeah? and you think it’s better than mine?” he teases and you grin even wider, nodding excitedly. “i’m all ears.”
“okay. make sure you listen and like, really listen.” you command and he nods, moving his ear closer to your lips. “you’re a better player than isagi yoichi.”
his face falls immediately and you burst out laughing, pushing off of him and grabbing your pillow again. you figure after your little stint, you’ll seriously be sleeping on the couch.
“super funny, right? i should be a comedian.” you muse, before leaning down and giving him a peck on the cheek. “good night, emperor.”
you turn to leave again, but kaiser’s quick to pull you down and underneath him. you yelp as he straddles you, pinning your wrists above your head. he’s frighteningly close, the tips of his blonde and blue hair hovering over your skin.
there’s one thing about him that you don't know and it’s that he’ll never admit how soft you make him, how it’s actually he who melts at the sound of your voice. how it’s him who wants to hear nothing but endless praise from you, so maybe he did get a little mad at that joke.
“m-michael?” you squeak, squirming under his hold, “what are you doing?”
“what do you mean? i’ve gotta remind you who the best striker in the world is.” he states and you recognize that look in his eyes. you didn’t think it’d rile him up this much.
“babe, it was a joke!”
he barks a laugh as you squirm harder underneath him. “it’s gonna be a long night, liebe.”
oliver:
“hey oliver, do you love me?”
perhaps not the best time to ask, neon bright 3:00 AM displayed on your alarm clock lets you know that. but still, the beating of oliver aiku’s heart that drums through your ears prompts you to ask anyway.
he’s asleep, or so you think, and shirtless, with the press of your cheek against his chest, his skin feels warm. shyly, you stay looking at the wall, sometimes trailing down to his limp hand. meanwhile, your fingers ghost over his skin, writing little “i love you”s and infinity signs like an incantation or a spell.
“dumb question,” you continue, “i know you don’t.” you give a small smile, it’s how the situation between you two works. you can sleep together, hold hands, maybe even call each other ‘partners’, but you never breach that threshold. he’s always just out of reach.
but oliver is awake, eyes stirred open by the figure eights you’ve been writing on him. he’s been listening to you the entire time, eyes blinking up at the ceiling.
“well… in case you were wondering, i think i love you,” you confess, your heart thumping wildly, “like a lot, actually. do you… think i’m stupid?” you pause, before opening your mouth to say that he doesn’t have to answer, but oliver cuts you off.
“not really.” he says, the hand that was resting on your waist, starting to stroke your skin.
you freeze before pushing yourself up and off of him. “hey! h-how long have you been awake?”
he smirks and you hate the way your heart flutters, “a while,” he sits up, “hey, i love myself too.”
you deflate a little, it’s too much of the same, the same jokes and the brushing off of feelings. but you should know this by now, that he doesn’t love you. “yeah, just not me.” you look away, wishing he would lie to you just one time. “i should go-“
he reaches over, grabbing your chin between his fingers and leveling your gazes together. “i never said that.”
you blink, wide-eyed and you’re not sure what to do or even what to say. and while you’re sure your heart is beating so fast you swear he can hear it, you’re also emboldened, mustering up the courage to ask, “never said what?” but your voice comes out small, whispery and featherlight.
“that i don’t love you.” he says. he doesn’t break eye-contact, pretty two-tone eyes locked on yours.
you can’t help your emotions, the way they swell up in you overwhelmingly, as if you’re drowning in them.
“do you love me, oliver?” you’re too happy to be embarrassed by the break in your voice when you say his name, too fixated on the way he touches you so gently. it’s like he can’t hurt you now, no matter what he’s done before.
he nods, the hand on your chin moving to cup your cheek as he strokes his thumb reassuringly over your skin. he catches the tears that fall, thinking that it’s much better to see you happy cry than when he does something stupid.
“could you say it? please?” you sniffle, placing a hand over his, keening into his touch.
he gives a breathy laugh out of nervousness, before he clears his throat and says it, loud and clear. “i love you, y/n.”
you laugh through your tears, relieved, because all the time you spent wondering was okay and the wait was worth it. the way it rolls off his tongue is so natural and so warm it has your head spinning.
he brings up his other hand, wiping away at the tears that continue to fall. “c’mon baby, you’re gonna cry all night?” he teases, squishing your cheeks between his hands.
“‘m not dreaming?” you mumble, shaking your head, “this is real? you really love me?”
maybe when you wake up in the morning it’ll be different. maybe he’ll be back to the same old oliver, the one who deflects and dodges all your questions. so maybe it is a dream. but, if this is a dream… do they always feel so good? and is it possible to stay asleep?
he hums, before asking, “does this feel real?” as he leans in to press a kiss to your lips. it’s sincere and authentic, the kind that makes your heart bloom. he pulls away, but only slightly to rest his forehead against yours. you nod and he grins, “good.”
#blue lock#blue lock x reader#bllk#blue lock x you#bllk fluff#bllk x reader#isagi yoichi x reader#michael kaiser x reader#oliver aiku x reader#isagi yoichi#michael kaiser#oliver aiku#pibby writing
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Hi sorry for asking but I read your request thingy and I'm curious if you could do a vanessa(fnaf movie) x female reader smut maybe dubcon or noncon idk but I would appreciate it or even just smut .
thank you for reading this even if u don't write it -▫️
a/n: hhhhhsvshshshsh yes. Wait I also just realized yall signed off with emojis let me know if you want me to tag your asks as that or smth.
Trigger warnings: smut, legal age gap (reader is 20 and Vanessa is 29/early 30s), reader is Mike's little sister, vaginal fingering, dubcon, stalking.
Vanessa told herself to stay away.
You were Mike's little sister, in college from the information she managed to get from the small talk she had with Mike. And you were off limits.
But she couldn't stop thinking about you.
Running her hands all over your body, making you moan and whimper, she'd make you see stars if she wanted to.
But she wasn't allowed anywhere near you.
She couldn't even breath around you without having Mike scold her.
She understands why he's so protective over his two sisters, after all, he did loose his brother when he was 12. That would have definitely been traumatic. And she knows he wouldn't want to let that happen again.
But still.
He was annoying, she couldn't ask you how your day was without feeling Mike's gaze on the back of her head, he knew she was gay, that was no secret she kept, she was open and proud, and made it clear she didn't like men.
It just wasn't fair, she just wanted to talk to you, make you smile and laugh, make sure you're safe, she cares about you too, even abby, she liked all of you three being around the restaurant working late hours. You bad joined your brother in sharing some night shifts together as you had told her you wanted to save up and one day get out of this boring town, she was supportive of that, since she knew how you felt.
She also knows all of your schedules including when your brother is off for the night.
Luckily he had abby to look after since he knew you can take care of yourself.
She watched you say your goodbyes to your siblings as you hugged them and they saw you off in Mike's car, you blasted your music, Fleetwood mac as she smiled, imagining her sitting next to you in the car as she listens to you sing along.
She followed you all the way to the pizzaria, you grabbed your energy drink, a book, your walkman, and you were off to work.
She'd usually visit you when you worked alone, since that was the only time she could see you without him around.
Vanessa got out of her car, shutting the door behind her as she walked inside the pizzeria.
She saw you sitting in the security room, looking at the monitors as she smiled, leaning against the entrance.
"Hey."
You jumped, startled. Letting out a gasp as you looked around only to see a familiar blonde.
"Shit, you scared me!" You said.
"Sorry" Vanessa chuckled, looking amused by your reaction. "I just wanted to check up on you."
"I'm doing okay, it's not that bad" you said, Vanessa stepped into the office, shutting the door behind her as you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.
"What are you?-"
You were cut off from your words as you felt her grab you by the arms, pushing you up against the wall as she pressed her lips to yours, knocking the air out of you.
"Just shut up" She mumbled, you froze, unsure of what to do. Sure, you felt attraction towards her, but your brother said to stay away from her, you didn't understand why since she was always kind towards you and your sister and even him. You wanted to get to know her better, maybe even become friends. "Stop talking."
You felt her hands roam your body, touching you as you felt your cheeks heat up, you wasn't sure if you should scream or try to push her off because you didn't even feel that uncomfortable.
She was pretty after all.
You were a sucker for pretty blondes.
Ans she happend to be one.
You just kept your mouth shut, letting her touch you as you could hear her breathing turn ragged.
"God that annoying brother of yours" She muttered, moving her hands to get rid of your belt on your jeans. "So fucking nosy, always around you. I just wanted to talk to you. See you."
You gasped, feeling her cold fingers rub against your clit, you bit back a moan, as you gripped onto her.
"I know you like me to" She moaned, feeling how wet you are, "always looking at me when you think I'm not watching. I'm always watching."
You bucked your hips onto her hand, chasing your high as you were desperate.
Vanessa grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to stare at her.
"Now I've got you all to myself" She smiled.
#fnaf x you#fnaf x y/n#fnaf x reader#fnaf smut#fnaf vanessa x reader#vanessa shelly x reader#stuff i wrote
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can u please write a jude fic where your in a talking stage and he comes over and you both make out for the first time 🤭
It's been a long time coming...
A/N: this is my first request in absolutely ages so tysm you have made my day ✨❣️ As I am now unemployed (😜✌️) i have a lot of free time before i head back to university. So please if anyone has any ideas lmk 🥹
Inspo: Jude and You have been close friends since high school, but after one very drunken night, you admit your feelings for him, right before he leaves for the euro's. When Jude arrives home, he has only one goal, to give you that kiss that you've been waiting for.
Oh, you had royally fucked up.
So royally fucked up that you probably shouldn’t leave the house for at least the next two days, perhaps a week, even a month.
You’d told your best friend that you liked him, in a sweaty club, the night before he was going to the Euros. With the drink loosening your tongue, you blurted it out without thinking. The look on his face said it all; he was stunned into silence.
You and Jude had known each other since high school. He was in the year above you, but you both shared a huge interest in football. While he played for the boys’ squad, you played for the girls’. You got really close in the last year of high school as he began prepping for the under-21s football team while you were preparing for university. You became each other’s anchor, someone you both could rely on, no matter how tough it got. You told each other absolutely everything. So when you blurted out that you liked him, it was as if you had shattered an unspoken rule.
You had been drunk. That was the justification you were giving. You didn’t know what you were thinking; you couldn’t control what was going through your head. You couldn’t face him, not now. The memory of his expression replayed in your mind, a painful reminder.
You had sent him one text message, mentioning nothing about the incident, just wishing him luck in the Euros. Maybe he’d just forget it even happened. After all, he was pretty drunk too.
You had spent all morning preoccupying yourself with your uni work, taking the dog out for a walk, cleaning your room… basically anything to distract from the impending apocalypse. But it was pointless; every other second, you would check the blue tick on the message, with a simple “read” underneath it.
Hey, I hope the head isn’t too sore from last night ahaha. Best of luck in the Euros, I’ll be screaming your name at the local, love ya. (Read)
His response came about three hours later. In that time, you had gone through all five stages of grief. First, Denial: you denied that you even told him, that it was a huge mistake. Anger: you were angry that no one stopped you, as it was an open secret between all of your friends but him, but they had let you blurt it out. Bargaining: maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, you know. You could just say it was a mistake or you didn’t remember. Depression: this would be the end of your friendship—that he’d no longer look at you the same way ever again. Acceptance: your life was doomed, and that was the end of it. However, when his response came, you hadn’t actually prepared yourself.
Yeah, my head’s fine ahaha, though I think you drank more than me in the end. Currently on the way to the airport, Trent says hi. Pretty nervous about the Euros, I can’t lie.
You sat there staring at the three dots, wondering what else he was thinking. You cringed at him mentioning your drunkenness. He not only knew but he must’ve remembered. Oh god, this was going to be awkward.
You didn’t respond, noticing the frequent three dots on his screen going rapidly on and off. Sighing, you attempted to make a joke, quickly sending back a response.
I’m sure Trent is feeling it right now ahaha, how many shots did he have last night again? Don’t be nervous, you’ll be ace!
His reply came almost instantly.
Enough to need a new liver, I’m sure. Thanks for the vote of confidence. We’re about to board, talk later?
You couldn’t help but feel relieved. He wasn’t addressing your confession at all. Maybe he really had chosen to forget about it. Or perhaps he was giving you a way out, a chance to pretend it never happened. Either way, you seized the opportunity.
Sure, have a safe flight! Catch you later.
With that, you put your phone down and took a deep breath. Maybe this wouldn’t ruin everything after all. For now, you’d focus on the positives: Jude was still talking to you, and you still had your friendship, even if it was a little shaken.
The next couple of days were a whirlwind of activity. Jude was swamped with training and media commitments, so your interactions were mostly confined to texts. Despite the busyness, he made sure to check in frequently, sending you updates and little messages that kept the connection alive.
After the Slovakia game, which they won in a nail-biting finish, you received a call from Jude. You could hear the adrenaline in his voice, the excitement of the victory still fresh.
“Hey,” he said, a little breathless. “Did you see the game?”
“Of course I did! You were amazing! That last-minute goal!" you replied, unable to hide the pride in your voice.
“Thanks. It felt good out there tonight. The fans were crazy. Nearly thought we were goners—"
"Nah, I knew you'd pull through."
"Really?" His voice sounded hopeful, as if he had more to say, but instead, he coughed and continued talking. "Uh, listen, there is something I need to talk to you about.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “Okay, what’s up?”
“I haven’t stopped thinking about what you said."
"What I said? When?" you responded, your heart beating faster by the minute.
"The night before I went, about you liking me. I thought I could just put it aside and focus on the tournament, but… I can’t.”
You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jude…”
“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently. “I’ve been trying to figure out how I feel. And the truth is, I like you too."
Tears pricked at your eyes. “Really?”
“Yeah. I hope you don't mind, but I told Dec and Trent, and after they completely humbled me, they made me realize—I think I've always had a bit of a thing for you. It’s just… I don’t want to mess this up. I don’t want to lose what we have.”
“You won’t,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time.”
There was a moment of silence, then Jude let out a breath. “Okay. One step at a time. I like the sound of that.”
For the rest of the night, you talked about everything and nothing, letting the conversation flow naturally. The tension from the confession began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of hope and excitement.
The next game was against Switzerland, and you decided to go out to the pub to watch it with a couple of your pals. The place was buzzing with excitement, filled with fans donning jerseys and scarves, and the energy was infectious. As the match began, you found yourself nervously scanning the screen for Jude, your eyes automatically seeking him out every few seconds.
Your friends, of course, noticed.
“Honestly, if you stare any harder, you might burn a hole through the screen,” teased Sarah, nudging you playfully.
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the blush that crept up your cheeks. “I’m just… making sure he’s doing okay.”
“Sure, just making sure,” Mark chimed in with a grin. “We all know you’re head over heels.”
“Guys, can we please just focus on the game?” you said, though you couldn’t help but smile.
As the match progressed, every time Jude touched the ball, your heart seemed to leap into your throat. You could hear your friends’ comments in the background, teasing you about how intently you were watching him.
“There he is again, Y/N! Are you taking notes on his every move?” Sarah laughed.
“Come on, give her a break. She’s just a supportive friend,” Mark added, though his tone was dripping with sarcasm.
You tried to ignore them, but the truth was, they weren’t entirely wrong. You were more invested in Jude’s performance than anything else. When he made a particularly brilliant pass, you couldn’t help but cheer louder than anyone else.
“Wow, you’ve got it bad,” Sarah remarked, shaking her head in amusement.
The game was intense, with both teams playing aggressively. Jude was in top form, making crucial plays and demonstrating why he was such an asset to the team. As the game neared its end, with the score tied, the tension in the pub was palpable.
Just then, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude.
Jude: Gaffer gave us 5 minutes, couldn't wait any longer to not text you.
You: What are you doing?! You're supposed to be on the pitch.
Jude: I think this is going to penalties, I feel it.
You quickly typed back, trying to infuse your message with as much confidence as you could muster.
You: Don’t worry, you’ve got this. I believe in you.
There was a brief pause before his next message came through.
Jude: Listen, how about this: if we win, I’ll take you out on a date.
Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at the screen, rereading his words. A date. With Jude. Your heart was racing now for an entirely different reason.
You: Deal.
The penalties were agonizing to watch. Each kick, each save, each miss, had the entire pub reacting in unison—groans of despair, cheers of relief, gasps of anticipation. You were barely breathing, your eyes fixed on the screen as if willing the ball into the net with sheer force of will.
Jude stepped up to take his shot. The pub fell silent. You could almost hear your own heartbeat. He took a deep breath, ran up, and kicked. The ball sailed past the goalkeeper and into the net. The pub erupted in cheers, and you jumped up, your shout of triumph mingling with everyone else’s.
The penalties continued, and finally, it came down to Trent. The pressure was immense. If he scored, England would win.
The pub fell silent again as Trent prepared for his shot. You could feel the tension in the air, your heart pounding louder than ever. He took his position, focused, ran up, and kicked. The ball flew towards the goal, past the goalkeeper, and hit the back of the net.
The pub exploded in cheers. People were hugging, high-fiving, and celebrating. You couldn’t believe it. They had done it.
Your phone buzzed again.
Jude: We did it! Can’t believe it. Guess I owe you that date ;)
You couldn’t stop smiling, your heart soaring with pride and excitement.
You: You were amazing! We're so proud!! I can't wait x
Jude: Trust me, I’m looking forward to it. See you soon, Y/N.
You spent the rest of the night celebrating with your friends, the victory and Jude’s promise keeping your spirits high. Amidst all the revelry, one thing was clear: your relationship with Jude was about to take a new and thrilling turn.
The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions and excitement. Jude’s team had just secured a 2-1 victory against the Netherlands. The pub you were in was filled with joyous celebration and raucous cheers. You knew Jude would be over the moon, and you couldn’t wait to hear from him.
Soon enough, your phone rang with an incoming call from Jude. You stepped outside, away from the pub’s noise, to answer.
“Hey, Jude!” you answered, your voice bright with excitement. “Congrats on the win!”
“Y/N!” Jude’s voice was noticeably slurred, and you could hear the background noise of a lively celebration. “I can’t believe we did it! We actually won!”
“I know, it was amazing!” you said, smiling. “You were incredible out there.”
“Thanks!” Jude’s words were slightly jumbled. “I’m just so… so buzzed right now! Remember when we were kids and we’d dream about moments like this? It’s really happening!”
“I know, it’s like a dream come true,” you said warmly.
“And you were always… so pretty, you know? I never really understood why you’d hang out with me,” he continued, his voice full of affection. “Everyone loved you, and I was just this goofy football guy.”
You felt a blush rising. “Jude, it didn’t matter. We had so much fun together.”
“Really?” he asked, sounding genuinely surprised. “I always thought… thought you were too good for me. I was just this guy with a big dream, and you were this amazing person who could have been anywhere.”
“Well, I was where I wanted to be,” you said softly. “With you.”
Jude’s voice grew more tender. “I’ve always admired you, Y/N. Even back then, I was captivated by you. The way you carried yourself, the way you looked—it was like you had this light that drew me in. I was always amazed by how stunning you were, both inside and out.”
You could hear Bukayo’s voice faintly in the background. “Jude, mate, turn the phone off. You're pissed-"
Jude chuckled, though his tone remained affectionate. “I can’t help it, Bukayo! Y/N, you have no idea how incredible you are. I mean, just thinking about you—how beautiful you looked back then and how stunning you still are—drives me crazy.”
You couldn’t help but smile at his words. “Jude, you’re making me blush.”
“I’m just speaking the truth,” he said earnestly. “You’ve always been this amazing person, and I’ve been lucky to have you as a friend and now… maybe something more.”
You felt a warm flutter in your chest. “I’m really glad we’re sharing these moments together. It means a lot to me.”
Jude’s voice grew more serious, though still a bit tipsy. “If we keep winning, I want to make sure we celebrate together. I can’t imagine doing it without you.”
“I’d love that,” you said, smiling. “For now, enjoy the celebration. You’ve earned it.”
Jude’s laughter was warm and content. “Alright, I’ll let you go. But I’ll call you again soon, okay?”
“Sure thing. Enjoy the rest of your night, Jude,” you said.
As you ended the call, you couldn’t help but smile. Jude’s heartfelt, tipsy confessions and the sound of his celebration had deepened your connection, making you realize just how much you both meant to each other. The future felt full of promise, and you were excited to see where this new chapter would lead.
When England lost 2-1 to Spain, the crushing disappointment was felt by everyone, especially Jude. As he and the team made their way back, he couldn't shake the feeling of defeat.
You, back home, had been anxiously awaiting any word from him. After a few hours, you decided to check in, hoping he was doing okay.
You: Hey Jude, are you alright? Just wanted to check in.
A few minutes later, your phone buzzed with a message from Jude. The text was brief, but the words were heavy with the weight of the loss.
Jude: Not great, honestly. It's been a rough night.
You felt a pang of sadness reading his message.
You could picture him, lost in thought, longing for comfort.
You: I'm so sorry, Jude. I wish I could be there with you too. You wanna hang out tomorrow? Watch a crappy horror movie and crash on my sofa?
The reply came back quickly.
Jude: Sure. I could use a little cheer up. I'd better go, journalists want a chat before we board.
You stared at the phone, hoping your words brought him some measure of comfort. You knew how much this loss meant to him, and how hard he had worked for this moment. The idea of him being alone in his thoughts broke your heart a little more.
You wanted to do something special for him, something that would show him just how much you cared. An idea started to form in your mind, and you sprang into action.
First, you pulled out his favorite hoodie from the closet. It was slightly oversized on you, but it felt like a warm hug. You wore it while you tidied up the apartment, making sure everything was perfect for when he got home.
Then, you went into the kitchen to start cooking his favorite meal. The process was therapeutic, each stir of the pot a way to channel your nervous energy. As the aromas filled the room, you felt a little more at peace, knowing that you were doing something to help him, even from afar.
As the hours ticked by, you kept checking your phone, hoping for any update on his flight. Finally, a message popped up.
Jude: Just landed. See you soon
Your heart skipped a beat. You quickly finished setting the table, dimming the lights to create a cozy atmosphere. You lit a few candles, their soft glow adding a touch of warmth to the room.
When you heard the key in the lock, you rushed to the door, your heart pounding with anticipation. As the door opened, there he was, looking exhausted but so incredibly relieved to see you.
Without a word, he dropped his bags and pulled you into a tight embrace. You held him close, feeling the tension slowly drain from his body as he buried his face in your neck.
"I missed you so much," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion.
"I missed you too, Jude," you replied softly, running your fingers through his hair. "I'm so glad you're home."
He pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes filled with gratitude. "You have no idea how much this means to me. Thank you."
You smiled, cupping his face in your hands. "Come on, I made your favorite dinner. Let's sit down and talk about everything."
Later on, after you had let him get everything off his chest, you decided to watch a movie, something that would probably become background noise. As the movie played, you and Jude sat side by side on the couch, the tension between you that seemed to dance in time with the flickering images. You could feel the heat of his body next to yours, and every time your arms or legs brushed, a jolt of electricity shot through you.
You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye.
He was staring at the screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. The furrow in his brow, the way his jaw tightened, the constant fidgeting-he was still wrestling with the aftermath of the game.
You wished there was something you could do to ease his mind.
As if sensing your thoughts, he turned to you, his eyes softening. "I'm sorry I've been a grumpy sod."
You smiled, feeling a flutter in your chest. "No, don't be. I'm your friend!" You smirk a little as you made eye contact with him for the first time that night. "I'm just glad you're here."
The movie continued, but the air between you grew thicker with unspoken words and emotions.
"Listen. About what I said-"
"We don't have too-"
"No we should! Because, i know I've been swept up with all of the euro's but- I meant what i said. I like you."
"I like you too."
You could feel his gaze lingering on you more frequently, and each time you met his eyes, it was like a silent conversation passed between you.
"Do you remember the last time we watched a movie together?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.
You chuckled softly. "Yeah, you fell asleep halfway through."
He grinned, the first genuine smile you'd seen from him all night. "I was exhausted. You have a way of making me feel very relaxed. Always have done."
"It's a very good thing," he replied, his voice low.
You felt a shiver run down your spine at the intensity in his eyes. The movie, now a distant background noise, was all but forgotten. The distance between you seemed to shrink with each passing second.
"Jude..." you began, but the words caught in your throat. "I-." His eyes looked up and down at your lips as you settled into his embrace. He looks for any uncertainty before he continues.
"You make me feel seen. Like I can't hide anything from you. It's scary really-"
"Is that so-" you smile, your eyes casting over his lips.
"Mhmm. You make me such a good person-"
"Jude, just kiss me already." You laugh. He smiles instinctively,
He reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek. "Can I...?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
You nodded, unable to form a coherent response.
Your heart pounded in your chest as he leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The world seemed to hold its breath as your lips finally met in a soft, tentative kiss.
It was like a spark igniting a fire, the kiss quickly deepening with a hunger that had been building all night. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss grew more intense.
You responded in kind, your fingers tangling in his hair as you pressed against him, the kiss growing more intense. His lips were insistent, exploring yours with a desperate need. You could feel his heartbeat against your chest, mirroring your own racing pulse.
Jude's hands roamed, tracing the curve of your back, sending shivers down your spine. Your skin felt electrified wherever he touched, each caress igniting a new wave of desire. You gasped as his lips left yours, trailing hot kisses down your neck, nibbling and sucking gently at the sensitive skin.
"Jude," you moaned softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He groaned in response, the sound vibrating against your throat as he continued his exploration, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.
Your breath hitched when his lips found the hollow of your collarbone, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin. You arched into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The heat between you was almost unbearable, a consuming fire that threatened to engulf you both.
When you finally broke apart, gasping for breath, you looked into his eyes and couldn't help but smile. "Do you know how long l've wanted to do that?" you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of relief and desire.
Jude chuckled, resting his forehead against yours.
"Probably as long as I have," he replied, his breath warm against your lips.
You both knew this was just the beginning, but for now, the world outside could wait. All that mattered was the two of you, tangled in each other's arms, finally giving in to the desire that had been simmering between you for so long.
#fanfiction#jude bellingham#leah williamson#womens world cup#england football#englandwomensfootball#womens football#football fanfic#jude bellingham x reader#jude bellingham x you#judebellingham x footballreader#jude bellingham fanfic#judebellingham#Jude Bellingham fanfiction#euro 2024#englandfootball#fanfic#footballer x reader#football imagine
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PRINCE GOJO ENGAGED TO WHO?
tags:fem!reader x prince! gojo satoru, childhood enemies to almost lovers to enemies (☹️), smut, (pussy slapping, fingering, etc.) GOJOS A MUNCHH, ōral (f. receiving), spit gojo gets jealous, ANGST, royalty, arranged marriage, forbidden love, kissing, mdni idk what to add..
w.c: 2.8k
a/n: THANK U GUYS AGAIN FOR ALL THE SUPPORT 😙😙 and this is my first time writing smut like thisss so go easy on me </3
+ likes and reblogs are appreciative 👩🏽❤️💋👩🏽
prince gojo masterlist
engaged?
your heart races wildly as the crowd of guests erupts in applause, celebrating your supposed “engagement.” you tug against his firm grip, but he refuses to let go.
looking up at him, you find him already gazing at you with pure admiration, effortlessly convincing everyone that you two are a happy couple. scanning the room, you spot your parents in evident distress, and your heart sinks further seeing the king in hysterics, his guards struggling to calm him down.
speechless and stunned, you stand by gojo’s side in the center of the ballroom, all eyes on you both.
still reeling from the shock, gojo thinks of another absurd thought. he leans in, cupping your face, and pulls you into a passionate kiss. you gasp at his boldness as his tongue slips into your mouth, eyes widening at the unexpected kiss. the crowd claps even more in awe. gojo then withdraws, his face flustered, planting a kiss on your cheek before lowering to your neck, his quiet moans fill your ears as he deeply inhaled your sweet scent.
“s-satoru, people are watching,” you nervously whisper into his ear, pushing him away, but he doesn’t budge. “mm, let them watch,” he murmurs, raising to whisper in your ear, biting it as you begin to find his audacity strangely attractive.
just as everyone admired at your display of affection, all attention shifts to a horrifying scream echoing loudly through the gala. the crowd near the garden doors parts, and you turn to see ayana, staring at the two of you in absolute shock. she looks utterly unhinged, her always-perfect hair now messy, makeup smeared as she lets out another piercing scream, startling everyone, including you.
she moves closer to both of you, and gojo instinctively guides you behind him, protectively. “you whore!” she screams , pointing directly at you, causing the entire audience to gasp at her words.
“everyone, this pathetic lowlife stole my husband! we were together first, planning our future!” she exclaims, her voice cutting through the room as guests start to murmur to each other. for the first time, you find comfort in gojo's embrace, his touch easing your nerves despite the turmoil he has brought into your life.
but he's also the man who has made it his mission to destroy you.
“says the woman who intended to kiss prince nanami in the garden, knowing he's engaged,” gojo replies sharply, causing your heart to race with fear that he might reveal your connection to nanami. “and hired another man to witness it, ayana. you're different,” he adds, prompting you to loosen your grip on his arm.
hiring another man to witness it.
you never informed gojo about the other man; you only shared about nanami and ayana. your eyes flutter as you glance between ayana and gojo—he knew.
he knew about the plan; he orchestrated this.
“you knew?” you whisper, your voice trembling, as he turns to face you, watching as you begin to step back.
ayana appears amused, realizing you were unaware of gojo's involvement in this scheme. “oh, ruru, you didn't inform her it was your plan?” she taunts, approaching both of you as the audience gathers around, their murmurs growing louder.
the situation overwhelms you—gojo closing in, ayana exacerbating things, and the stares of the audience. i need to get out.
just as you're about to turn and run off, you bump into someone. startled, you look up to find nanami standing there, his gaze piercing as you wish you could disappear, never to face the public again.
“kento...” you whisper tearfully, but his expression remains impassive, focused on ayana.
“everyone, please follow us for dinner in the other room,” ayana's father announces loudly, once again startling the guests, who shuffle away with loud footsteps toward the adjoining room for the next event.
you shut your eyes, dreading the judgmental stares of the guests. after a while, the sound of the doors closing signals that the guests have moved on.
“what the hell are you two doing!” the queen exclaims angrily, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor as she approaches. your mother trails behind her.
“do you two understand what you've just caused?” mrs. gojo's voice cuts through, making you feel like you've ruined their reputation. “we've planned for a perfect prince—or rather, a perfect king—to marry you, and now you decide to take matters into your own hands?”
gojo rolls his eyes at his mother's outburst, turning his attention to you. he reaches toward you, pulling you into his chest, away from nanami, glaring intensely at him. your mother dramatically wails how naturally you've grown closer to gojo.
“y-your majesty... she's been plotting to steal your son away from me,” ayana interjects, her tone laced with feigned sorrow, pointing at the two of you for proof. hoping to gain the queen's sympathy.
“satoru, you knew she was to marry nanami. stop interfering!” the queen directs her frustration at her son, who continues to disregard her.
“i knew you would do something, but don't worry, i will fix this,” the queen declares confidently as she strides away toward the extended area where the guests have gathered, leaving the four of you alone in the empty ballroom.
you push out of gojo's grasp and exit, needing to distance yourself from everything and process what just happened.
⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *
you sit in the carriage—well, gojo's carriage—waiting impatiently for him, knowing no other carriage would dare depart without its intended passenger. voices murmur among the guards, and you strain to hear gojo's footsteps nearing.
the carriage door opens, and gojo steps in, his eyes locking onto yours. “i don't want to speak with you,” you say quickly, cutting off any attempt from him to start a conversation. he nods silently and takes a seat opposite you, his gaze unwavering.
“i had to do it,” he begins, and you roll your eyes at the sound of his voice. “i had to do something for myself. i need you,” he confesses, his words hanging heavy in the air. you stare out the window, watching castles pass by as the carriage rolls on.
“you don't understand how much i crave you. my thoughts are consumed with you. seeing you with him set everything off,” he continues, his second love confession almost prompting a smile, but memories of how he's tormented your life flood back.
the carriage comes to a halt, signaling your return to gojo's palace. “goodnight, prince gojo,” you say, a hint of defiance in your tone as the guards open the door for you to exit. you stride towards the entrance, determined to maintain your distance despite his confession.
⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *
you stare at the ceiling as morning rises, you haven’t gotten the best sleep due to everything that occurred the night before. you wish everything was a nightmare and you’d wake up in nanami’s arms.
but the unresolved chemistry between him and ayana hangs heavy.
you groan loudly, reliving the events of last night when you caught nanami and ayana in the garden. “i need to get out of this place,” you mutter to yourself.
rising from your bed, you head towards the bathroom adjacent to your bed. just as you reach for the door handle, it swings open, revealing gojo.
he’s wrapped in a towel snug around his waist, casually holding the ends of a linen cloth around his neck, water droplets all over his toned body as a smirk playing on his lips as he meets your gaze.
shamelessly you let your eyes roam over his beautifully sculpted figure, his larger frame casting a powerful presence. your gaze settles on his chest, where a lotus flower tattoo adorns his left pectoral.
your eyes began to lower to his abs prominent as he’s been working out a lot. unconsciously your eyes roam lower and lower, staring at his-
his voice breaks through your thoughts, “careful now.” how long have i been staring? “if you want it, all you have to do is ask,” he purrs, his words tempting.
“when did you get in my room,” you retort, avoiding his tempting offer.
“right after you fell asleep,” he answers, turning to check himself out in the mirror. “you kept holding onto me all night. you talk in your sleep,” he teases, as your jaw drops of how embarrassing it is.
“‘t-toruu, harder mmh~“
your mortification peaks as he mocks your sleep talk. you slap his arm to silence him, but he only laughs.
“nothing to be ashamed of, I can give it to you hard mm?” he taunts, but before you can react, he leans down and kisses you. hard. it’s almost a natural thing between you two.
his hands trail down, gripping your waist as he guides you backward towards the bed. breaking the kiss, he softly pushes you onto the mattress, where you find yourself admiring how good he looks hovering over you. maybe this mattress is really good…
the bed dips as he crawls closer, spreading your legs to accommodate him, maintaining eye contact as he moves. impatient, you reach for the back of his neck, pulling him closer, messily making out with him.
your mind goes dizzy as he begins to kiss you lower, going from your neck to your breasts. switching from one breast to another as he massages them through your night gown. you moan his name loudly, not caring how loud you are.
he grins as he sees your face contort in a needy expression. gojo continues to showers you in kisses. he stops below your stomach as one of his hands bunches up your silk night gown to reveal your pussy, bare.
“mmh, were you expecting me?,” gojo murmurs as he teasingly brings his fingers to your slit, feeling how drenched you are. your arousal glistening as your clit twitches, needing any form of stimulation. you’re squirming as he teases you, not wanting to give you the satisfaction you desire.
“I want it ‘toru, wan’ you,” you say breathily, bucking your hips to feel more. he chuckles at your neediness, intrigued by this side he’s never seen before.
lowering his head, he draws very close to your heat, teasing you mercilessly. tears well up in your eyes from the intensity of his teasing.
you realize he’s getting off on teasing you, he loves the way your body reacts to him, this fucker.
“f-fuck you,” you manage to gasp out but he ignores your protest, as he focuses on kissing the sensitive skin on your thighs, sending waves of frustration through you.
“such a dirty mouth,” he purrs, finally nibbling at your clit, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from you. he grins, loving the effect he has on you, and spits flat against your intense heat, watching as the glob of saliva dribbles down, down, down to your entrance. oh how messy he loved to be.
gojo restrains himself. holding himself back from going absolute feral, just the sounds of your soft pleads and moans gets him insanely hard. fuck, he thinks.
“how bad do you want me-”
“are you fucking kidding me?” the interruption freezes both of you. your heart sinks as you turn to see ayana standing in the doorway of your room. you try to push gojo away discreetly, but he refuses to budge, unfazed by her presence. he cannot be serious..
he pays no attention to ayana as he dives in, devouring you with desperation, causing you to moan loudly, your embarrassment mounting as she observes. the silence is beyond awkward, it gets worse as the loud squelches from your pussy is all that is heard.
gojo could honestly care less ayana’s watching as he eats you out like a hungry man, devouring your pussy as his tongue laps up your arousal, alternating between his tongue and long fingers. you moan so loud your back arches against the bed as you feel so ashamed that she’s still watching.
“so fuckin’ wet,” he notes, muffled against you, as he lifts his head to look at the mess. unexpectedly he slaps your pussy, bullying your poor cunt as you almost cum then and there. gojo goes back to eating you, as if you’re all he needs.
struggling to muffle your sounds, you try to cover your mouth, but gojo stops to look up at you. sensing that ayana still hasn’t left. his pussydrunk expression makes your pussy throb once more. he turns his head to look at ayana in annoyance.
“can’t you see we’re busy?” he says coldly, while you finally catch your breath, avoiding ayana’s gaze.
“t-the royal authorities are expecting you two in the ch-chamber,” ayana stammers nervously as gojo shamelessly brings his fingers to his mouth, moaning softly at your taste.
is this from last nights scandal?
gojo rolls his eyes, turning back to you. “we’ll be there,” he dismisses her, his lack of concern evident.
“all your families are waiting,” she adds before slamming the door, her anger noticeable in the forceful slam.
“‘toru we need to g-go” you urge as he clearly doesn’t care as he leans closer to you, kissing your sensitive spot on your neck.
“ugh- whatever, I’ll see you downstairs,” he whines and pouts, not wanting to leave you. you swear you see him tear up.
“you need to get out before they get even more upset,” you scold, and as he finally rises from the bed, you notice the damp spot, cringing at the sight. before he leaves, he plants a quick peck on your lips, smiling softly before exiting.
what have we done…
⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . *
after quickly freshening up, looking far more presentable than when tangled in bed with gojo, you enter the chamber connected to the large gojo estate.
inside, the room buzzes with activity—royal guards, authorities, your parents, nanami’s family, the king and queen. across from them seats nanami, ayana, and gojo opposite them, facing the stern authorities. fuck.
all eyes turn to you as you enter, the last to arrive for this crucial meeting. you take the empty spot on the couch between nanami and gojo, with ayana seated on the other side of gojo—how convenient.
“we’ve all come to an agreement. the authorities are giving you a choice,” the king announces, his displeasure evident.
“we’ll proceed with gojo and ayana’s immediate marriage,” the queen declares, prompting gojo’s visible anger and ayana’s concealed satisfaction. the queen then turns her gaze towards you as she continues, “you will move to the countryside and cut off all contact with nanami’s and my own family.”
your heart sinks at the queen’s harsh decision, feeling betrayed and treated unfairly. gojo stands up, angrily protesting.
“if that choice does not satisfy you,” the king intervenes, silencing gojo with a commanding look as he sits back down, his rage radiating. “you will be married off to one of my distant relatives overseas, leaving prince gojo, prince nanami, and duchess ayana here to restore their reputations in society. either way, our families will be connected to the haras.”
tears well up in your eyes as you turn to your parents, their pained expressions crushing your heart.
“don’t i get a say in this? as future king, shouldn’t i have some input?” nanami interjects, surprising you with his defense when you thought he was angry at you. “it’s unfair that my ‘almost’ wife is bearing all of the punishment.”
“you’re not king yet. your path to the throne required marriage. it seems you’ve forfeited that chance, prince nanami,” the queen retorts, pointing towards you.
“send me away, strip me of my title, just please spare her. it was all my doing,” gojo pleads with his parents and the authorities, willing to shoulder all the blame and punishment on your behalf.
“and tarnish our reputation further? ‘toru, dear—”
“i think sending her away would be the best solution for everyone,” ayana interjects, her words landing like a dagger, intensifying your anger.
“ever since she arrived, it’s been nothing but whoring herself to these two, especially ruru!” ayana continues, seeking pity from the room.
“it’s infuriating how he ‘mistakenly’ moans her name during sex…” ayana exposes gojo’s accident, shocking the entire room. you turn to look at gojo, watching his cheeks flush with embarrassment as the king scolds ayana for her untimely disclosure.
“you have three days to make your decision. until then, you are all dismissed,” the king concludes, ending the tense meeting with an ultimatum that leaves you feeling more lost and burdened than ever.
#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#jjk fanfic#jujutsu kaisen angst#gojo angst#gojo satoru#jjk smut#gojo x reader smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader smut
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i know places ꨄ charles leclerc smau
charles leclerc x fem!reader
or 4 times charles soft launched you, and the one time he hard launched you so hard it almost caused whiplash
charles_leclerc
liked by pierregasly, arthur_leclerc, joris__trouche, and 430,230 others
charles_leclerc happy summer break 😁
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username ummm???
username that last photo im gonna throw up i never want him to post a photo dump again
username what about OUR family charles? ME, your wife? OUR imaginary kids?
joris__trouche i hope you paid your photographer
charles_leclerc she said it was a free trial
username there's literally no way charles 'i am stupid' leclerc knows how to soft launch this has to be a joke
username i hope this brings ferrari such awful luck... no man who soft launches like this deserves happiness
charles_leclerc
liked by arthur_leclerc, yourusername, landonorris, and 320,540 others
charles_leclerc new song releasing at midnight tonight on all platforms, we hope you'll like it 🎶
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username i cant wait to be depressed for the rest of the week thank u charles
username im sorry... WE? who is WE?
username omg... is this a piano duet... between charles and his girlfriend???
joris__trouche i hope you're sharing the royalties
charles_leclerc nosy man
username the fact he's giving us literal crumbs like we have NOTHING to go off of
username he's just smarter than the rest of us, not letting us creep his girl
charles_leclerc
liked by pierregasly, mickschumacher, yourusername, and 650,392 others
charles_leclerc what an incredible weekend in singapore. honoured to have had all the people i love with me this weekend for this win. i can never do this without you.
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username do u think he put 'i can never do this without you' in a whole different sentence because it's directed at HER
username idk if i should call u delulu or smart bc 👀
username i am so fed up with this soft launch, stop being a coward and show her to us!!!
username comments like these are prolly why he's only soft launching... he doesn't want crazy fans to pull what they did with lando and luisa lol
pierregasly je suppose que ton porte-bonheur fait son travail 👀
charles_leclerc 🥰😁
charles_leclerc
liked by joris__trouche, pierregasly, landonorris and 692,941 others
charles_leclerc an extra special christmas, with an extra special person. joyeux noël to you all, may santa spoil you as much as he has spoiled me 🎅🏻
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pierregasly joyeux noël from kika and i, looking forward to spending time with the both of you in the new year 🥂
joris__trouche impressive that this soft launch is still going, only ever seen you this dedicated about cars
username not joris saying exactly what we all have been thinking
username i cant believe no one has found her on anything
username charles hasn't given us anything to go off of, its like he's trying to make it difficult to find her
username omg y'all it HAS to be yourusername her story is them literally kissing!!!! im gonna scream!!!!!!
username she's followed by half the grid!!! kika has liked all her post over the last 2 YEARS omg
yourusername has posted a story
liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, username, and 434 others
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charles_leclerc honoured to have been the one to kiss you for the last three christmases, hoping for hundreds more
charles_leclerc
tagged yourusername
liked by pierregasly, yourusername, arthur_leclerc, and 1,235,029 others
charles_leclerc apparently i forgot to introduce the world to my beautiful wife? joyeux anniversaire mon amour 💗
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username your WHAT
username his WIFE?!
username there is no way mr 'i am stupid' has hidden a whole WIFE and a whole MARRIAGE from us
pierregasly merde i am so excited to finally post the photos from your wedding
yourusername honoured to have spent the last year as mrs. charles leclerc, hoping for so many more
charles_leclerc hoping for forever
username MRS CHARLES LECLERC PLS IM KSFJHK
username i am screaming and throwing up, not even crying i cant even be heartbroken????
landonorris emotionally im not okay
yourusername you were at the wedding??? landonorris i love love, shut up.
if you've already seen this i apologize lol, i think there was some formatting issues with the prev post which resulted in it not showing up in the tags :( so total apologies for that! i hope you enjoy!! (i dont want to retag everyone and be annoying as well) if you'd like to be added to my tag list please feel free to reach out
also my requests are open if you're interested!
#charles leclerc#f1 x reader#charles leclerc x reader#f1 x you#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc one shot#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader
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To Save Or Be Saved
Yandere Sethos x reader
This was a request: “Where Yandere Sethos falls in love with reader right after reader saved him or something (or u can use ur idea instead). And Sethos would secretly follows reader to get to know her.”
Masterlist
Warnings: stalking, violence, murder, subtle manipulation
Word count: 1127
Sethos had been lead into a trap and was surrounded by multiple bandits. The had managed to swipe of his vision when he had tumbled down the hill after he tripped on their snare. His clumsiness was uncharacteristic and he cursed himself for being so reckless.
One of the bandits, a tall and gruff man with greying hair, slammed his boot against Sethos’ side. The brown haired man coughed and sneered up at the man. Just as the bandit was about to kick him again, a yell could be heard.
Sethos’ eyes snapped up to the sand dune and were met with the sight of you. You were screaming at the bandits to let him be. In your hand was a crossbow pointed at them ready to shoot.
They quickly left, no before dealing a final kick at Sethos. Sethos rolled over to his knees and slowly got up. He groaned at the pain. He was going to have nasty bruises.
“Are you alright?” you were sliding down the dune, your eyes wide and filled with worry.
You placed the crossbow down on a stone and quickly ran your hands over him checking him for injuries. “Fuck you’re bleeding!” your voice was frantic. You patted your pockets in search of something to use in order stop his nose bleeding.
“I’m fine. Really” he placed his hand over yours as he smiled gently. “Thank you for saving me. I owe you” he winked.
You stilled in your movements, clearly caught off guard. Your eyes snapped from him and began scanning the ground. You bent down and handed his vision to him. The purple vision sparked in your hold. He paused before he took it.
“No need to thank me. I’m just glad I didn’t have to use the crossbow. To be honest I have absolutely no idea how to use it. I just found it in a ruin close by and decided to keep it” you smiled sheepishly. Your cheeks pink from embarrassment.
Sethos’ eyes widened. Archons you were beautiful. He chuckled at your words. “You are a brave girl” his hand reached out and ruffled your hair. He laughed at your surprised expression. “But promise me to be careful in the future. Okay?” his voice completely serious.
“Yeah…” you nodded slightly. Confusion written all over over your face. “Well I need to get going. Bye! And take care!” you waved as you walked away.
“Bye!” Sethos waved back. He watched as your figure got smaller and smaller. His finger tips itched to go after you. Your very presence had him in a trance. As he hooked his vision to his clothing it finally dawned on him. He didn’t know your name.
Days turned into weeks and he finally finally saw you again. He had taken a trip to Sumeru City and when he entered one of the many cafés he was met with a pleasant surprise. There on to corner, far away from everyone, were you. You were eating a cake and was seemingly lost in thought. Your hair a gently framing your face making you look even more similar to an angle.
When your eyes met his, he gasped. You were ethereal and he was completely at your mercy. He made his way over to you with quick steps.
“Hi. We meet again” he smiled. His green eyes crinkled.
“Hello” you returned his smile. “Nice to meet you again” you motioned to the chair opposite of you. “Sit down.”
He did as you said. The chair scraped against the floor at his eager motion. “Nice to meet you too!” He grinned. “Oh, I never caught your name.”
“[Name]. What about yours?”
“Sethos at your service” he winced playfully. “[Name]” he tasted your name. “What a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman” he grinned. He could say your name a million times and never get sick off it.
You two talked for hours. He was glad you both shared your similarities. Though he was forever grateful you didn’t share his thirst for adventure. Even though you had indeed saved him, you were still not made for a life of adventure. You had said yourself that you were rather clumsy and you saving him was just a heat of the moment thing.
Sethos decided to follow you around. You were friendly to everyone you met and that irked him. Your laughter was something only he should be able to hear. Not everyone else.
Your house was on the outskirts of town and quite lonely. Fear crept through his veins at the thought of someone breaking into your home, so he decided to check your house for any danger. Your house was cozy and filled to the brim with various fairytale books. Your naivety greatly intrigued him and his need to protect you grew.
You were out on a shopping trip and Sethos were following close by. He didn’t want to call it stalking as his intentions were good. He was a good guy and he wanted only to protect you.
You had stopped to chat with a fruit vendor. The vendor was seemingly a good friend of yours, considering your playful banter. Sethos saw red when the vendor’s hand came to rest upon your shoulder. His hands balled up into fists as he plotted on how to quickly and quietly get rid of the man.
Sethos would continue to follow you as for long as he felt was necessary. You were a fragile thing after all and he needed to keep you safe. His patience was not endless and he soon saw himself sick of lurking in the shadows.
He paid some bandits to rob you. As they pushed you to the ground and took your beloved bag, Sethos emerged from the shadows and quickly slammed the bandits to the ground. Blood prickled out from their cracked skulls and onto the stone ground.
You slapped your hands over your mouth as a way to silence your scream. Sethos quickly pulled you into a tight embrace. “Shusssssh…” It’s okay. They can’t hurt you now” he whispered against your ear. He could feel his veins vibrating at your proximity. He burrowed his face shameless into your neck and inhaled deeply. God you smelt divine. “Luckily I was close by. I can’t even imagine what might have happened to you if I weren’t…” he pulled back slightly so he could look at you properly. He stroked your cheek gently. “You are safe now. You are safe with me. Let’s go back to your house. Okay? I will protect you. Maybe you could even move to the desert with me?” he rambled on, not even bothering to see if you heard him through your shock.
Finally you were his.
#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin#yandere genshin impact#yandere genshin x female reader#yandere x reader#male yandere#yandere male x reader#Yandere male#yandere#yandere sethos x reader#yandere sethos#sethos x reader#sethos#genshin impact x female reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin x reader#genshin x female reader#genshin impact#x reader
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can i request luke x fem reader where they’re both counselors and have a secret relationship where they sneak out tg a lot, then the camp finds out. thank u!
CLANDESTINE MEETINGS
✸ pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader
✸ synopsis: during one of your many secret meetups, you and luke get busted by your friends
✸ warnings: like one cuss word, kissing, established relationship, clarrise + chris my beloveds <3
✸ a/n: i’m sorry this took so long, classes just started back & i wanted to die. anyways. also literally what is chris & clarisse’s ship name? 😭
hermes was the god of messengers, the god of travelers, the god of thieves. his children were welcoming to most, for anybody who appeared at camp half-blood had been funneled through cabin eleven at one point, and new campers would continue to be.
his children were mischievous and they were smart. and above all of that, they were sly, sneaky, and secretive.
so had you really been surprised when one of these children proposed keeping your relationship a secret?
it wasn’t like luke was ashamed of you and your relationship or anything, don’t get it wrong. no, he wished more than anything that he could stand on top of a table in the dining pavilion and scream to everyone that you were his. but he couldn’t.
the two of you had decided that with all the new rules regarding camper relations (which totally weren’t passed thanks to chris and clarisse or your friends from the aphrodite cabin) and the strictly good example you two were to set as head counselors, it was best that it stayed between you and him.
that was why about four months ago, the sneaking around had begun.
meetings behind the boathouse, in the woods and in every secluded area of camp that you two could find. secret smiles and looks that only the two of you could see. holding hands under the table at counselor meetings and whispering in each other’s ears during a capture the flag matches.
it was thrilling, really. like the two of you shared a secret that nobody else had a clue about, something that was seen only by the sun and the moon.
you had been keeping it up for four months unsuspected until one particularly cool night in july.
you hadn’t seen luke all day, you were exhausted from a day of extra long training and losing a capture the flag match, so you were feeling extra clingy when you met him behind the big house. not your greatest hiding place, but you missed him so much that you couldn’t make yourself care.
nobody would notice you two missing with the campfire going on to distract them anyways.
“hey, sweet girl,” he greeted you with a smile that was reserved for your eyes only. “how was your day? i feel like i haven’t seen you at all.”
“because you haven’t.” you groaned in reply, taking his hands in yours because it had been too long since you had done so. his hands were warm and enveloped yours perfectly and you never wanted to let go. “today was exhausting.”
“oh yeah? too tired to see me?” he asked with that sly little smirk of his.
obviously you weren’t, because if you were, you would’ve been sleeping away in your cabin instead of out here in the dark with him.
“clearly not.” you responded with an eye roll that gestured about to your surroundings.
“never too tired for me, huh?”
“shut up.”
and he did, because within less than five minutes, your mouth was on his and his back was pressed up against the building behind.
now, luke prided himself on many things, such as his self-control and diligence, his keen spatial awareness and sneakily ability to keep a secret. but when it came to you, all of those things were gone.
he melted at the mere sight of your eyes meeting his, and your touch was like the blissful fire of a thousand suns.
you weren’t much better when it came to him, with his pretty eyes and the sweet names he gave you.
when he held you in his arms it felt as though the gods had made a mistake of separating your body from his so that you had to endure seventeen groveling years apart before you found one another again.
you were so caught up in one another that you never heard the footsteps coming.
“i knew it!”
you nearly jumped out of your skin when chris’s voice met your ears.
you pried yourself away from luke and the two of you were met with clarisse and chris staring at you, mouths wide open. you were caught.
“um . .” luke mumbled. real smooth.
“we can explain—“
“there’s nothing to explain.” clarisse cut you off, a knowing little smirk on the corner of her mouth as her boyfriend still stared at you with wide eyes. “this is a terrible hiding place by the way.”
“i knew i should’ve taken connor’s bet that they were dating.” chris said.
okay, they had to be exaggerating. you and luke weren’t that obvious, were you?
“oh come on, connor doesn’t know anything.” luke said with a nervous laugh, as if there were a way to cover up what had just been discovered. with the way his hands were still on your waist and fingers hooked through your belt loops, that wasn’t very plausible.
“dude, half the camp knows.” clarisse snorted.
“they do not!” you protested.
clearly, there was no saving your secrets now.
“you guys literally hold hands under the table at counselor meetings.” chris pointed out.
“how would you know? you’re not even a counselor.” you argue with him, but the little smile on luke’s face wasn’t helping your case.
“i have friends.” chris crossed his arms. “they tell me things.”
“he’s lying, silena told him.” clarisse shrugged.
“hey!”
you couldn’t help but laugh at that. accepting your fate, you looked at luke, who sucked air in through his teeth and said, “guess we’re busted.”
“yeah you are. now come back to the campfire and help me with these kids before they kill me.” chris said to his brother.
succumbing to counselor duties, you and your boyfriend emerged from your hiding spot and walked back to the campfire hand-in-hand, the secret out.
when the two of you took your seats in front of the fire and luke pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek, chris twisted his face up in mock disgust from luke’s other side.
“you know what, go back to hiding. i don’t wanna see that shit.”
#୨୧ love letters#。゚・ׂׂ daddy issues (kj’s version)#percy jackson#pjo#percy jackon and the olympians#pjo fandom#luke castellan#imagine#charlie bushnell#fanfic#luke castellan pjo#pjo show#luke castellan x fem!reader#luke castellan x you#luke castellan oneshot#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan imagine
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dating younger quackity? like 2018-2019
.✦°. • Dating younger Quackity ( ´∀`)
warnings: none^^
a/n: thank u so much for the request! This was super fun to write, took me back to 2019 when I started watching him :D either way hope you enjoy! (Sorry it took so long 😭 life’s been busy)
I feel like he’d be the type to fall in love with his best friend, or generally someone that he knows fairly well
Expect nights spent talking on the phone with him, laughing your asses off at memes and stupid games instead of doing homework
Or endless bike rides around the city, as if you didn’t do that one route million of times
Maybe even little lessons on the basics of boxing (he isn’t a very good teacher though, he’s too afraid to hurt you)
It comes naturally, his heartbeat starts to pick up every time he hears your voice, your laugh, you saying his name ugh
And you won’t stop leaving his mind, you’re always there, in every each one of his thoughts (might as well pay rent at this point)
Have you always sound this pretty?
Have you always been this pretty?
Before he knows it, he’s noticing all the little details that make you, well, YOU
He’s in love.
Fuck.
He wouldn’t know what to do about his feelings, either he ignores them and buries this secret deep into his heart, or, after a scary amount of convincing from his friends, he confronts you with the shyest demeanor you’ve ever seen him wear
Assuming this is one of his first experiences, if not the first, he would be very cautious in his actions, not sure yet about how to handle a relationship, especially if it gets more serious
He wouldn’t talk about being in a romantic relationship for a while, mostly cause he doesn’t like to share his personal life too much, especially when it comes to romance
But is there a teenage boy that doesn’t like to brag about being in a relationship?
Would mention it once, casually, you know, to be cool and all
Like “yeah I have a partner” a little smile to top it off, nothing big, just a bit of something to feel swag
Nobody believed him.
The loud boy who screamed about the president 24/7 having a partner? Yeah nice try kiddo, go back to play your stupid videogames
At some point in his young carrier he got tired about the running joke of you being an illusion
“This is what too much screen time does to a person KEKW” chat would say, haha how funny (if you hadn’t notice, he’s being sarcastic)
As frustrating as it was to battle against hundreds of people on whether HE was in a relationship or not, he’d never ask you to do anything you are uncomfortable in doing
So, even if showing up on stream would probably help with this little problem of his, he’d encourage you to actually think carefully if you want to make an appearance or not
“I do have a partner!” Alex says for what feels like the fiftieth time that evening. He should probably give up, after all who cares if chat doesn’t believe him. He knows the truth and that’s enough. Right?
WRONG.
His credibility, and his pride, are in the way. Plus is he even that bad of a catch for people to think he can’t pull?
His head falls onto his hand, resting there as he lets his thoughts run while the fast stream chat on his monitor lights up his face in various dull colors.
You were sitting on a little chair, not too far away from him, staring at something in your phone. He did feel bad for inviting you over just for him to stream an hour later, but you had always said that you didn’t mind watching him since you liked seeing him do something he enjoyed. As if he didn’t enjoy spending time with you, but fine.
So he put his insecurities aside, most of them being about you possibly not liking his streams, and provided you a chair to at least sit comfortably as he robbed you of your time by going live yet again.
It had been going fairly well: he was checking out some horrible games in Roblox, or rather he had been screaming his lungs out for an hour straight, and of course, when a random kid on Roblox asked him to be his girlfriend, chat got back on their “no relationship, you are a loser” (he knows it’s a long name, he couldn’t come up with anything better okay??) agenda.
Your hand waving in his peripheral vision brought him back from his mind: he hadn’t realized he had zoned out.
He looked at you briefly, almost feeling bad for the worried stare you were giving him. He usually doesn’t feel this defeated after an unserious bickering with chat, but to say that this all situation wasn’t playing with his self-doubts would be lying. He’s fine though, he just feels a little gloomy today.
You turn your head to the side and give him a thumps up, voicelessly asking whether he was fine or not. And he just nods, giving you a little, forced, smile before going back to the bright monitor. He doesn’t like the thought of you being concerned about this. While, admittedly, it does feel nice to have someone worried about him, Alex never quite liked to be a bother to anyone. He could handle this alone.
Then why is his head so heavy? And why does he feel without energy all of a sudden? He just needs to do what he does best: push the pain away and walk forward. But even something as easy as that sounds impossible right now.
Maybe he should end stream.
He’s too lost in his own thoughts to realize you had stood from your chair, steadily approaching his setup. When he realizes what’s going on, it’s too late.
“You don’t-“ before the frantic words can leave his mouth, you were already behind him. You cross your arms down his chest, whilst your head, resting on the top of his beanie, being high enough to not get seen by the webcam.
Many things were going trough Alex’s mind, a lot of them being about how nice it felt being hold by you, but only two words left his lips:
“Who’s got no game now, huh?”.
At that point it would go from chat not believing him to chat teasing him endlessly about him being a simp
You two could do nothing and he would still be accused of it, just because you were there
Is it true? Yeah, but it was nonetheless a bit annoying
He WOULD bully you on stream when the secret is out
Chat: “do you like (Name) or Thanos more? Don’t lie”
“Well…” he’d say, scratching his neck in faux uneasiness.
“Don’t think about it what the fuck!”.
His chat took your relationship quite well, after all the time he wasn’t famous enough to have fans being jealous and obsessing over him
Actually you became kind of an icon of his channel
And he did milk this for content but it’s not like you didn’t encourage him, quite the contrary, so expect videos like “playing Roblox with my partner” or “The best Habbo raid ever w/(Name)”
As sweet as this all can be, we haven’t forgot about his light teasing (borderline bullying) on stream, have we?
Don’t worry, you got back at him with the help of Aksel countless of time, he’d be your partner in crime when it came to bullying Alex
You were watching meme compilations with them on stream, occasionally sharing some little laughs and snarky comments, and, one way or another, you somehow ended up talking about shampoos. Yes, shampoos.
“Honestly, I think 2 in 1 are gross” Alex says, spinning around in his chair while still keeping an eye on the running chat. You were sitting next to him in your usual simple wooden chair that he usually stole from his kitchen. It wasn’t much, and you could feel your thighs getting painted with the hard design of your seat, but it feels very homy, heart warming in its simplicity.
Yet, as comfortable and happy as you felt, you really couldn’t help spatting out the comment that had been dancing dangerously on the tip of your tongue, begging to be freed.
“And what would you know about it you bald fuck”.
Silence filled the room.
.
.
.
You start to grow worried you stepped over the line as you shoot guilty side-glances at him, trying to evaluate whether he was or wasn’t okay with your stupid joke. His spinning was getting gradually slower, and his eyes wide and open jaw came to view.
You’re able to let out a silent sigh of relief as Alex’s face sinks into a, clearly exaggerated, offended pout.
“Have you heard them?? Defend me Aksel what the hell” he cries dramatically, his mindless spinning coming at a halt to stare into the soul of his screen, specifically at the man that is lightly grinning right back at him.
“I mean.. they’re kinda right man..” he mutters in his typical monotone voice, barely holding back an amused snicker.
Alex’s look of betrayal was probably the funniest shit you had seen in a while.
“Why are you two ganging up on a Mexican guy huh??”
“Awww the Mexican card? No better come back??” you laugh smugly, your face screaming “triumph” as he gawks at you.
“You truly found your match” Aksel laughs, adjusting his bucket hat as he leaned down on his office chair.
“Shut the fuck up” he mumbles before looking away from you with a huff.
Oh God does he love you.
Moving on though, these were harsh years for him, so he needs lots of love and support from his partner
I think it’d be too soon to have full on cuddling sessions, but i see him loving your touch, especially if it’s something domestic like a simple hug or a little caress down his back
Not really into PDA either, but he would find comfort in holding your hand whenever he’s tense or even just cold
It’s a reminder you are still by his side despite all of his flaws and insecurities, you chose him
(Ended up being way longer than I intended but had fun :D sorry for the long wait :( I had two very stressing weeks in the middle of writing this)
#quackity x reader#quackity imagine#quackity x y/n#quackity x you#qsmp x reader#quackity headcannons#quackity fanfic#going back to the origins#also I have those headphones they are PEAK
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Silly little thing I thought of
Like like imagine dazai and the reader have been friends for years like the reader knew him since his 15 goofer era... and they got used to eachother sm they usually sleep in eachothers beds n stuff :3
LIKE SOMETHING IS GOING ON BUT THEY STILL HAVE THE FRIENDSHIP LABEL.. 🐺🤞
this concept stuck itself in my head like a tapeworm and it has not escaped me for days IM ACTUALLY OBSESSED i wrote SO MUCH for this omfg i had so much fun writing this thank u for this wonderful idea pairing: dazai x gn reader word count: 2.5k content: fluff, vignette-style writing, friends-to-lovers unspoken label type of thing, soft dazai, domestic fluff without the marriage bit, banter, idiots in love im taking requests!
===
Dazai’s toes are still as frigid at night as they were seven years ago. You, of all people, would be the best person to measure this—not in a weird way, but you two have shared a bed at least once a week since your teenage years. You know all of Dazai’s annoying sleeping habits, including his ones of sleeping without socks and digging his feet into your shins for warmth.
Annoying fucker. You sigh, batting his arm away from its loose hold around your waist. “Get your toes off of me,” you croak out, half-conscious and mind still addled with the remains of your once-deep sleep.
“What toes,” Dazai mutters back, smacking your intervening hand away and returning his arm to its rightful place around you. “I don’t have toes. I got rid of them after puberty, ‘member?”
“I’m gonna kill you.” You won’t, not really, and the threats have lost their edge after all these years, but it’s fun to throw at him when he annoys you like this. “I know all your weaknesses, Osamu. One wrong move and you’ll be missing more than just your toes.”
“I’m cold, dear. Would you really let me freeze like this? So mean.”
You try not to choke up at the nickname. He’s been a fan of those recently, at least in the last year. You think it has something to do with your new places at the Agency. New workplace, new life, and new nicknames, apparently. If you overthink it you might puke on him and fall back asleep.
“Not cruel. We have money now, you know. Go buy yourself socks. Wool, or something. Stupid ass cold ass toes.”
He goes quiet. Even in all these years of knowing him, half-living with him, you can’t tell if it’s a normal lull in the conversation or a calculated pause. It doesn’t unnerve you as much as it used to, but there’s still a cold chill at the nape of your neck that springs up at times like these.
“Why would I do that when I have you?”
Dazai has also been a fan of this recently—strange uncharacteristic moments of tenderness. He peels himself back for you and bares himself raw. The implications make you nauseous. Swathed in the darkness of the night, he can’t see your fingers twitch from where they lay next to your head, away from his sight; or the conflicted expression that crosses your face.
Easing your breath out into a steady, deep rhythm, you pretend to be asleep. It’s not like he can’t tell, but the message is there. Let’s not talk about this until the morning. Let’s just sleep for the night. Let’s keep what we have and not change it for the worse.
==
At age eighteen, shaken with the death of his friend and haunted by blood stains on his fingers, Dazai defects from the mafia.
He doesn’t take you with him—at least, he doesn’t mean to. He expects to leave quietly, or as quietly as blowing up Chuuya’s car can be. He doesn’t expect you to drag yourself along kicking and screaming.
Dazai doesn’t remember much about specifics, but he knows that one day he was alone in his underground apartment and the next day you were there. The kitchen smelled like melted marshmallows and rice krispies and his dingy counter was covered in sprinkles.
“Hi, Dazai,” you’d greeted conversationally. “I’m making your favorite.”
He doesn’t even like rice krispie treats. Hates them, actually.
In truth, your presence is less the result of you “kicking and screaming” and more like an after-effect of your own quiet stubbornness. Your kicking-and-screaming was done in the passive aggressive way that you cleaned his dishes and made his bed and left big trays of rice krispie treats in his fridge for the next week.
Neither of you talked about Chuuya. It was better for you that way.
On the first night, Dazai remembers you holding him from behind, forehead pressed into the stretch of skin between his neck and shoulder. He’s sensitive there despite being wrapped in his stupid scratchy bandaids. His memories for the rest of the night are overrun by a feeling of want, an itch to feel your fingers on his bare skin, a craving for your hand on his stomach to slide beneath the hem of his shirt and press into the tender skin of his abdomen and keep him warm.
===
“Leave me alone,” you grumble from behind the sleeve of your jacket. “I’m napping.”
“It’s not napping if you’re still awake.”
“I wouldn’t be awake if it wasn’t for your annoying ass.” Rotating your body to face the ceiling from your place on the Agency’s couch, you sigh when your view is blocked by Dazai’s ugly stupid face. He’s smiling in that conniving way that he does when he’s about to do something super annoying. Another sigh escapes you when he leans down close enough for the overgrown ends of his hair to brush against your nose. The puff of air from your verbal discontent makes the strands sway slightly. You try not to think about how mesmerizing he looks when he’s this close, with the light from the window casting a golden sheen on the crown of his head.
Since when did you get this sappy? Must be Dazai rubbing off on you, obviously.
“So tired already! It’s barely noon.”
“You came into work an hour ago. I’ve been here since eight. Try being responsible for a change, might exhaust you just as much.”
“Hmm.” He tilts his head, big stupid shiny brown eyes blinking down at you like he’s observing a specimen. “I think I’m more than responsible enough.”
“Sure,” you relent, turning back around to shove your face into the corner of the couch and block out the incoming light. It’s the truth—you’re exhausted. A persistent weariness permeates your bones from how much you’ve been working these last few weeks. It’s not like it’s anyone’s fault in particular, not even Dazai’s despite how much he slacks on paperwork. But looming threats from enemy organizations hang over everyone’s heads and there’s no shortage of uncertainty in the Agency. It’s been mission after mission for you, and you’re taking every break you can get.
Rustling sounds from above you, but you pay it no mind, busying yourself with nestling all of your body into the crevices of the couch and hopefully turning into a piece of furniture yourself. It might be a more peaceful life, really. The calm is short-lived when you feel fingers tap along your cheek—not in a rousing gesture, but something along the lines of placating.
Dazai squeezes a hand beneath your head and cups the side of your face pressed against the couch, tilting it closer to him before you feel a warm press of lips against your cheek. He lingers. He always does. You can feel the gentle inhales and exhales breeze against your face before he breaks his kiss away. Your cheek is warm for more reasons than one.
“Take care of yourself,” and oh, god, you’ll never get used to this, never get used to how tender and soft he’s become with you, never get used to how this Agency has fostered something like kindness in both of you. Your stomach stirs with something unnamed and if you were braver, you’d blink your eyes open and reach up and grab the sides of his face and pull him down to you.
But you’re not brave, and there’s people still behind you in the office, and you wonder what led Dazai to be soft enough to kiss your face like that in front of everyone. You’re sure they’re watching you both. The Agency is full of gossips, whether they admit it or not.
===
“Dazai,” Ango Sakaguchi grits out from behind the crackling reception of a burner phone. “They were not a part of the plan.”
“You think I don’t know that, Ango?” Dazai replies, tone more playful than aggressive. “I know they’re not a part of the plan. They knew they weren’t part of the plan, too. But it’s too late to do anything about it. It’s just a minor change.”
“A minor change?” Ango’s voice is strained with stress, no doubt pulling out strands of his hair as they speak. “I have to deal with not one, but now two members of the mafia defecting. Do you know how much work this was to begin with?”
The thing is—of course Dazai knows. He knows everything. The minute he found you in his kitchen, his stomach dropped with the uncertainty of the future. Going underground with another person was nothing short of a burden, at least on paper. But, he couldn't find it in himself to think of you like that. Like a burden.
“We’ll figure it out, Ango. If you don’t, then we will.”
A gritty sigh sounds from the other side of the phone call. “I’m putting a lot of faith in you, Dazai. Don’t screw this up.”
===
“Made you lunch. Since, obviously, you’re not gonna do that for yourself any time soon.”
A closed plastic container is thrown on the counter in front of Dazai. He looks at it, then up at you, eyebrow raised as if he doesn’t have a clue what this could be about. He’s not that stupid, though. You of all people would know that.
“How nice of you! Too bad I’m not hungry.” His lip juts out in a poor imitation of a pout, and he looks ugly with it. So ugly. Ugly enough to make you feel the need to kiss him all over and then slap him. An incredulous huff escapes you.
“I don’t care if you’re hungry. Eat. It has crab in it, see, your favorite.”
“I thought my favorite was rice krispies?”
You freeze. It hadn’t occurred to you that he might remember that, after all this time. You don’t dwell, because that’s the worst thing to do with Osamu Dazai—dwell.
“Don’t act stupid. Just eat it. Even if it’s not the whole thing, at least some of it. It would do you some good.” Getting serious with Dazai is one of the most awkward, unbearable things you could ever do. He has a way of making you feel stupid for worrying about him, with all his roundabout jokes and skills of evasion built up over years. You’ve found that being straightforward is the best way to avoid all those blank moments of silence.
His fingers curl around the plastic lid and pop it open. The container is still warm, having cooked all its contents just half an hour before showing up at Dazai’s apartment with conviction in your eyes. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll have some.”
You bring out a duplicate container with a serving for you, and treat yourself to a juice box from his fridge. You try not to launch into a lecture at the sight of his barren pantry—that’s best done by Kunikida. The both of you eat in silence, sitting across from each other at Dazai’s dusty kitchen island.
He only gets through a few bites before pushing the container away and complaining about how full he is. You know it’s not the truth, but it’s the mixed-up signals that his body sends him. It’s not that he’s full, but his persistent lack of appetite has caused a lot of troubles for him in the past and you don’t doubt that it’ll keep causing troubles in the future, too.
“Let’s get you to bed, then,” you tell him, dragging him up from his chair despite his whining protests. “I won’t make you shower, but you should probably do that tomorrow, ‘cause your hair’s about to get all greasy and disgusting.”
“So crude.”
“I do my best.”
You let him change on his own, but not before picking out a nice soft set of matching pajamas from deep inside his closet. You grumble a little in annoyance. The set was a birthday gift you got for him a year ago and that asshole pushed it to the back of his wardrobe and never touched it again. What a brat. You throw a pair of fuzzy socks at him to boot.
Once he’s changed into proper sleep clothes, you can tell that the exhaustion is starting to hit him. He sways a little on his feet and his blinks last for a little too long, as if he’s chasing sleep every time his eyes shut. With another begrudging sigh, you set him down on the floor of the bathroom and dollop his toothbrush with fruity kid’s toothpaste—because of course that’s the only toothpaste he owns—and brush his teeth for him.
Dazai dozes off in the middle of it, and you can’t bring yourself to wake him up in the most annoying way possible. You try really, really hard to not think about how soft you’ve gotten. You’re an ex-mafia member, past coated with dark stains and entrails and death, all of those dark things. Your blood is just as black as Dazai’s, if not more. And yet, being a part of this stupid Detective Agency with this stupid man has melted you down into something parallel to good.
Don’t dwell. It’ll do you no good.
You use a gentle grip with the toothbrush, ensuring that his delicate gums don’t tear with the force of the bristles. A warm feeling stirs in your chest. It feels like you’ve proven something, like you’ve proven to the world that your coal-stained hands can be gentle, too. You can kill and you can nurture. You tap Dazai awake with a little more care, now.
“Rinse your mouth,” you tell him in a whisper. ��Then you can sleep.” And after a pause, you add, “I promise,” because now you’re in the business of making promises to people.
Dazai rinses his mouth, and you wipe off the remaining droplets of water from his face with a paper towel that you leave on the counter for your future self to throw out. You lace your fingers with his as you walk to his bed. Not that he needs any guiding. Of course he doesn’t. It’s just a little extra insurance, you think.
“Stay with me,” he mumbles out the minute you lay him down on the bed. It’s a sentence, and not a question, because he’d rather die than ask you something so vulnerable. He’s doing it again—peeling himself back and baring himself raw for you. Your head swims and your vision blurs with either a migraine or with tears, you can’t tell. But your lips quirk up into a stupid smile and he sees it despite his half-lidded eyes, and he smiles back like the stupid dope that he is.
“Yeah, of course. I’m right here, Osamu. Go to sleep.”
And he does. Of course, not before he feels you cup the opposite side of his face and plant a warm, lingering kiss on the swell of his cheek just as he did for you weeks before. The faint laugh that he lets out before he falls asleep is enough to tell you that he’ll be making fun of you for it in the morning. For now, though, he’s soft and pliant and warm between your hands, and you sleep.
#dazai osamu x reader#dazai x reader#osamu x reader#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai osamu x you#dazai osamu fic#bungo stray dogs fic#bsd x you#bungou stray dogs x you#dazai osamu#i forgof how to tag hejkp me#openeing up comissions soon... maybne....#this was so fun to write like it lived in my brain for a week and i wrote a little bit every day#i had DAYDREAMS ABOUT THIS CONCEPT BRO LIKE
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if your requests are in, I was wondering who in Svt would give u up for friendship and who would fight for u till the end ( if two of the members were interested in someone). I really like your style of writing and think it’s super super cute so I would love it if you could make this idea come to life: thank you and keep writing xxx🫶🏽
Hi anon! Sorry for keep you waiting but here it is. I struggled a little bc is the first time writing something likes this, but it was also fun, thank you ♥
Seventeen reactions (ot13) - Fight or Flight?
Yuin's note: barely proofread. I'm still stuck with write's block so I don't know how my attempt at comedy turned out.
Scoups: He’d be troubled. Seungcheol really, really wants to be with you and thinking about losing you is something that just can’t think of. So, he would just let it flow, no matter how hard it was, and do his best not to lose his mind. (but we all know he already did it and he’d kill to have you just for him).
Jeonghan: He'd be with a "I’ve got this” attitude and like he trust himself, but lowkey, Jeonghan is terrified about what could happen. This is not a Going Seventeen episode (and he hates to admit it) so he just can’t cheat like is a game, but probably will use all the cards he has up his sleeve.
Joshua: Maybe he has too much self-confidence or just don’t want to rush things over, but Joshua would be very chill about it. He will be your friend no matter what happens and will be there whenever you need him, so what happens it’s completely up to you. Good luck!
Jun: That would be a big surprise, not a pleasant one, and saying that he's just distressed is little for how he'd really feels about it. Jun loves you as you are, but he needs some space to collect his thoughts so he might be a distant for a time :(
Hoshi: Okay, this man would do anything for you so he won't give in so easily. Hoshi doesn’t matter anyone but you, so he will exhaust all the resources available to him, but also trying his best not to overwhelm you in the process (and we all know he’s fighting for his life lol).
Wonwoo: He'd prefer staying in his comfort zone and is okay with just a friendship, letting the path clear for the other person but also leaving the door open. (As soon as he's alone he would drown his sorrows by playing animal crossing and dissociating).
Woozi: Just like Wonwoo he'd prefer to keep it as a friendship, a little of you is better than nothing, open to possibilities but also without really looking for them. However, we all know him and would be so blue that will probably write a song about it (the next SOFT if you ask me).
Minghao: Despairing will not help and he knows that, so he'd try to push further than a friendship. Hao is patient but also dedicated, the last thing he wants is to do something that might hurt you, the best option is to walk at a slow and safe pace.
Dokyeom: Ugh, that would break his heart, he can't imagine his world without you but at the same time, Dokyeom knows that he can't tie you. So, whatever makes you happy would make him happy too... At least on the surface (We all know he'd be tossing and turning in bed trying not to think about it).
Mingyu: Sulky Mingyu just entered the chat because yes, a situation like that is very frustrating. But on the top of that is you. So, as long as you follow your heart, he would respect that decision, lowkey crossing his fingers behind his back for you to choose him.
Seungkwan: Probably too much for him to handle. Seungkwan would feel his emotions on the surface, unable to think properly. He'd prefer to step back for a time, maybe some days, at least until he can look at the others without looking like he wants to slap them.
Vernon: He wouldn't flinch we all know that for sure lol. He enjoys spending time with you and your silly jokes always makes his days a little brighter. No matter what happens, Vernon would be there to share more happy memories with you.
Dino: He'd probably freak out and scream on the inside because a love triangle wasn't on his bingo for this year. However, he's not quitting. If you end up just being friends then he will accept it, but no one can say that Chan wouldn't give his best to get you
#seventeen#seventeen fic#seventeen x reader#seventeen imagines#seventeen scenarios#seventeen reactions#svt#svt fic#svt x reader#svt imagines#svt scenarios#svt reactions#choi seungcheol#yoon jeonghan#joshua hong#wen junhui#kwon soonyoung#jeon wonwoo#woozi#xu minghao#lee seokmin#kim mingyu#seungkwan#hansol vernon chwe#lee chan
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modern day romeo and juliet !!!
*ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which their love was the modern day romeo and juliet, with a happy ending.
or
for when you find your forever. ˚ ༘♡ ⋆。˚
social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader
warnings - language, alludes to sex, mentions of sex, whatever.
author’s note - hello!! i REALLY hope u all like this one bc it was so fun to write like it was so chuckle worthy so i really hope u enjoy it!! thank u so much for reading, i love u <3 i will try to post once more tonight bc i have 10+ drafts rn with almost 20 requests and i'm trying to do them all one by one, thank u so much for being patient <3
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe, carlossainz55 and 873,268 others
yourusername got railed and he walked out and came back with cherries and roses for me??? is this true love???
8,628 comments
username Y/N OH MY GOD
username THIS GIRL HAS NO FILTER HELP
username THE CAPTION OMG
lewishamilton boss man is on his way to confiscate your phone
-> yourusername thank u for the heads up 🙏
username MOMMY??????
username IM SCREAMING WHY IS SHE SO BEAUTIFUL
username the caption has my jaw slacked
lilymhe girl it's the truest love
*liked by yourusername*
username no bc i would happily d!e if someone did that for me like CHERRIES AND ROSES AFTER SEX WOAH
username me pretending like i can relate to this knowing damn well my single ass is getting none
username don't be scared gf drop his @
carmenmmundt i'm going to ignore the caption and just say that you look gorgeous baby
-> yourusername as if u weren't the first to message the gc BUT THANK U MY LOVE
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username god when will i have this ?
landonorris gross we don't need to know that
-> yourusername look away child
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username i can only imagine the look of horror on toto's face
charles_leclerc idk to me it sounds like it's TRUE true love
-> yourusername RIGHT??? that's what i was thinking
username charles what r u doing here
-> username thoughts are being thunk rn
username to have someone who would bring me cherries and roses after getting railed :///
username oh she's GLOWING
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 874,926 others
charles_leclerc the water's getting colder let me in your ocean
8,627 comments
username CHARLES???????
username GOODBYE
username NOT HIM QUOTING CHASE ATLANTIC OMG
username i just wanna know who got him quoting this song I SWEAR
username NAH MY MAN'S DOWN BAD
carlossainz55 my eyes.
-> charles_leclerc why do you think i texted the gc before posting???
username WHO IS SHE OMG
username SWIM OMFG
username girlies we officially lost him
username y/n soft (hard) launched her man too and now charles.............are we seeing this shit
-> username i have made the connection
-> username u didn't make shit
-> username i have made it
maxverstappen1 please there are kids on this app
-> charles_leclerc look away landonorris
-> landonorris ur both just as bad as each other
-> username not to alarm anyone but that's EXACTLY what y/n said on her post
-> username oh.
yourusername swim 🌊
-> charles_leclerc swim 🌊
-> username WHAT DOES THIS MEAN.
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by paddockgirlies, y/nwolff44, f1wags and 62,628 others
paddock.club charles leclerc and y/n wolff spark dating rumours after they were spotted out on a date, only adding into them as they shared a kiss. leclerc and wolff have been having coy interactions on social media for a while now but they were barely seen interacting outside the paddock. both of them, separately, have been hinting at a relationship for a few weeks now although we had no reason to believe that they were together, until these photos resurfaced. click on the link in our bio for more details about the new potential f1 couple.
3,527 comments
username OH MY GOD
username WHATCTHEBFUCK
username pretty people (charles) ruining it again for the poor (me)
username i will be taking months to recover from this thank u.
username charles is really on his path to get y/n disowned huh
username THOSE THIRSTY ASS POSTS MAKE SM SENSE NOW
username they're MY romeo and juliet
username this information is life altering like ACTUALLY
username y/n this isn't u babe come home the kids and the cats miss u ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ u can bring him too ig
username charles leclerc i am under ur bed
username not a vroom vroom guy stealing my wife the fuck
username i would do anything to be at the mercedes garage rn
username i had already made the connection
-> username u didn't make shit
-> username i had already made it
username they'd be such a power couple like WOAHHH
username BOTH of my parasocial relationships are in shambles rn
username off topic but she's so barbie coded and he's just ken
username MOTHER and then it's just some silly guy
username HOW'D HE PULL HER 😭😭😭
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username no bc i don't know who to be more jealous of
username not the entire comment section bullying charles and thirsting over y/n 💀💀💀
≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
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yourusername his swagless looks and cringe fail personality have captivated me
tagged charles_leclerc
11,628 comments
username PLEASE
username OH MY GOD
username SIS REALLY CAME FOR CHARLES LIKE THAT
lewishamilton finally someone addressed the swagless looks
-> yourusername listen i love him but it had to be said
-> charles_leclerc both of you are dead to me.
username SHE'S SO UNSERIOUS I LOVE HER
username she really secured the rival team's driver for future use for her dad and roasted him on the internet while announcing their relationship
-> username this is the most y/n thing y/n has ever done
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francisca.cgomes this is the equivalent of u saying "where the hoes at" im heartbroken
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username bf who is so babygirl and gf who is just a silly little guy
-> yourusername im getting this comment framed and hanging it above the mantle
username i apsire to be her
charles_leclerc can't believe i got violated by my girlfriend like that
charles_leclerc mom amour why
charles_leclerc this is unbelievable
-> yourusername relax i'll fuck u let me be funny first
-> charles_leclerc ........yeah okay!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
-> username CHARLES 😭😭😭😭
-> username Y/N OMG
-> username i fucking love this girl sm
susie_wolff please answer my calls. - toto wolff
-> yourusername give susie her phone back
-> susie_wolff call me. and have charles call me too. - toto wolff
-> yourusername who's that question mark
-> susie_wolff y/n y/m/m wolff. - toto wolff
-> yourusername goodbue ou mu god
username toto is throwing another set of headphones i can FEEL it
username parents 🙏🙏🙏
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by yourusername, carlossainz55, georgerussell63 and 899,724 others
charles_leclerc ma belle looked so pretty today i almost cried
tagged yourusername
12,728 comments
username GOD WHY CAN'T SOMEONE LOVE ME LIKE THIS
username OH MY GOD???????
username need a man to be obsessed with like RIGHT now
username i cried leclerc get on my level
*liked by yourusername*
carlossainz55 almost?
-> charles_leclerc haha don't make me block you.
-> landonorris is he wrong tho?
-> charles_leclerc no comment.
username HE'S SO OBSESSED WITH HER AHSJSJKAK
-> username can't blame him bc SAME
-> username if my girl was y/n i would be too tf
georgerussell63 you are toto's number 1 enemy!
-> charles_leclerc i have been living life in fear since the day we started dating
-> yourusername i kinda like u too much ur sticking around
-> charles_leclerc ahahahahahahhahaah!!! okay!!!!!!! ahahahahhaha!!!!!!
-> lewishamilton y/n he's doing that thing again
-> yourusername he'll be back to normal i swear just give him a min
-> username same charles SAME
susie_wolff so happy for you both 🤍
-> susie_wolff i will be seeing you at tonight's dinner, leclerc. - toto wolff
-> charles_leclerc thank you so much susie 🤍
-> charles_leclerc babe your dad is being mean again yourusername
-> yourusername dad.
-> susie_wolff can't wait to see you, charles. - toto wolff
-> charles_leclerc why was that more threatening than the previous one.
yourusername good. need a man on his knees crying and screaming and throwing up bc im too hot
-> charles_leclerc you can have me like that anytime of the day just saying
-> yourusername BOY MY DAD'S ON THIS APP
-> charles_leclerc YOU ACT LIKE YOU HAVEN'T SAID WORSE
-> yourusername catch these hands
-> charles_leclerc we're now holding hands haha! this is nice!
-> yourusername u dumbfuck i adore u so much what.
username im SICK rn like OH MY GOD
username i see u on street and it's on SIGHT for destroying my carefully curated parasocial relationship
≡;- ꒰ °twitter ꒱
≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱
liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, danielricciardo and 798,626 others
yourusername he got jack's approval and that's all that really matters
tagged charles_leclerc susie_wolff
7,816 comments
username HE MET THE FAMILY OFFICIALLY OMG
username what would i do to be an atom during this whole vacation
username JACK AND Y/N MY BABIES ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
username JACK APPROVES WE WON
landonorris does toto like him?
-> yourusername we're making progress.
-> danielricciardo does it look promising?
-> yourusername uncertain but hoping for the best.
-> carlossainz55 copy. keep us updated.
-> charles_leclerc why are you like this
username JACK MY FAV WOLFF FRRRRR
username i think charles is traumatized by now
username SHE LOOKS SO ETHEREAL IN THE THIRD SLIDE LIKE OH MY GOD?????? A LITERAL ANGEL???????? IM SPEECHLESS
-> username charles it's ok u can comment from ur main acc
*liked by yourusername*
username THIS WHOLE FAMILY HAS MY HEART
username susie and wolff the ultimate power couple 🔥🔥🔥
username baby brother agreed everything is ok now
carmenmmundt missing my love
-> yourusername i miss u so bad
-> carmenmmundt i was talking about jack but i miss you too ig
-> yourusername fuck u actually
username well he got 3/4 wolffs on his side that's something ‼️‼️‼️
susie_wolff had the most amazing time, y/n!! even toto said "it was okay." ❤️
-> yourusername i love u guys sm ❤️
-> susie_wolff he still not getting within 6ft radius of you. - toto wolff
-> yourusername dad u do realise that everything that had to happen has happened?????
-> susie_wolff i suddenly need to talk to him. very urgent. - toto wolff
-> charles_leclerc WHY DO U NOT WANT ME TO HAVE A GOOD TIME
-> yourusername oh shit sorry dw u will be fine!!!!!!!!
username i missed the whole wolffs content sm :///
username BABY JACK AND Y/N
charles_leclerc little dude loves me
-> yourusername after u brought him 26281927 toys
-> charles_leclerc a win is a win
-> yourusername ok babe.
charles_leclerc your dad is looking at him like he wants to break my every bone while counting i am scared
-> yourusername just say that i would be upset if he did that
-> charles_leclerc he left me alone thank you my love ❤️
-> yourusername anything for u ❤️
-> username is toaster waterproof???? let's find out!!!!!!!
-> username they make me feel single in 262828 languages it's not funny anymore
username to have what charles and y/n have :///
username if my relationship isn't exactly like this i don't want it.
username they're my parents ur honour
#f1 x female reader#f1 x reader#social media au#fake instagram imagines#f1 imagines#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc imagines#charles leclerc instagram au#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc x wolff!reader#charles leclerc fluff
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Spencer Reid - We Shouldn't Be Doing This
Warnings: smut themes but no actual smut, fed!spencer x enemyfed!reader, enemies to something (let u pick babes), insults, angst, one-bed trope (ur welcome)
This is Spencer in the more recent seasons, but you can picture him in your preferred season.
Word count: 1.6k
Summary: Y/N and Spencer have never liked each other. They are always competing over who's the smartest, who's the most handy with a gun. Yet, when they're sent on a mission and they end up in a motel room with one bed, things get interesting.
A/N: Yall are gonna love this. This is inspired by this. Thank you for that. The girlies are gonna love this one! Thanks for reading <3. Let me know ur feedback! @hereforhalstead thank u for the idea.
I had started working at the BAU for a couple of years. I got along fine with the girls, JJ and Emily. Garcia was my girl, hyping me up and helping me with anything. Most of the boys were fine too, Morgan made me laugh until I couldn’t breathe, Hotch was like a big brother to me and Rossi was a father figure to me. But there is one guy that was very insufferable and the only person in the BAU that I could not stand. Dr Spencer Reid.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s a very attractive man. Yet he is the most infuriating person I have ever met.
He didn’t seem to like me too, when I joined the BAU. He looked at me with dark eyes. His hair was always messy, his snarky attitude made me want to kill him sometimes.
After joining the FBI for about six months, Spencer and I were competing against each other all the time. It didn’t matter if the subject was mentioned, we were already arguing on who was the smartest. He kept making the remarks about his IQ, his eclectic memory and the fact that he could read 20 000 words per minute.
It didn’t matter what I told him, he kept laying it on thick. He kept trying to prove to the entire world that no one could be smarter than him.
One day, Hotch and Rossi had enough of us screaming and arguing all the time. They sent us on a light care in New Jersey, about a girl who escaped a convicted killer.
This is just fucking perfect. Now I’m stuck with the encyclopedia. I tell myself. I bet he wasn’t happy too, just by the look on his face. He looked like he was boiling on the inside. His face was red, his hair looking worse than usual and streams practically coming out of his ears.
We got into a car, driving us to the airport. Total silence filled the car, neither of us daring to start an argument. We got out of the car after a while, heading into the jet and off to New Jersey.
It took about two hours to get there. My headphones were placed on my ears, reading the file of the young woman who escaped. I could see Spencer playing with a coin, not really doing anything.
When the jet landed, we got into another car. We arrived late at night, meaning the interview with the girl would have to be in the morning.
The car dropped us to a motel, where Hotch and Rossi had reserved a room for us. The lady in the front desk gave me the keys, both of us walking towards our room in silence. I could feel his stare burning the side of my head.
As I opened the room, I was the first to see that the room was missing something.
There’s only one bed.
I swore under my breath. Spencer saw it next, shutting the door behind me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I heard him say.
Rossi had planned this, he had to. He planned for us to get away, fix our issues and get back to Quantico like nothing was wrong between us.
I dropped my bag on the chair beside the window. “This is just wonderful.” I mumbled sarcastically.
I earned one of Spencer’s glares. “What? You think I want this more than you do?” I look at him, not amused by Rossi’s ruse.
He drops his bags, taking off his coat and suit jacket. “I would’ve preferred to sleep on the concrete than to share a bed with you. I bet it would be much more comfortable.”
I scoffed, taking off my coat and dropping it on the chair. “Right in with the fire, mh? You like that, to get me fired up and all ready to insult you. What’s your fucking problem?” I speak with a harsher tone, anger clearly lacing my throat.
“What’s my problem? You’re an arrogant idiot who barged into the BAU like it was your living room! You’re intolerable, Y/N! You know that?” He practically spit in my face.
“Oh, so now I’m the problem. Please, Dr Reid, tell me all of the remarks you have against me.” I say, stepping closer to him, looking up at his stern face. His breathing has gotten faster, his hands in fists by his side.
“You’re ignorant, selfish. You only care about yourself and that small head of yours. You try to make yourself smarter than everyone else! Just because you went to fucking Stanford doesn’t mean your Einstein.” He started walking closer to me, anger radiating off of him.
“What else? Hm?” I whisper, my voice stern and angry. I didn’t care what he thought of me. His opinion was the last thing I cared about.
“You’re a spoiled little girl who got everything she wanted in her whole life. You got the job, the looks, the money. Everything. You didn’t work a single day in your life to earn all of that.” He grabbed onto my forearms, clenching his fists entirely against my wrists. He had pushed them behind my back, pinning me to the wall behind them. His voice got quieter, still angry and venomous.
“Fuck you, Reid.” I whisper in his face, my face clearly affected by his words. My breathing has quickened too, my pulse fast and hard in my chest. My cheeks were flushed, the heat of his chest radiating off of me. “You’re telling me this for what, hm? To get me to hate you? Because, trust me, I already do. You’re a selfish prick, who only cares about how smart you are compared to the world. No wonder you can’t get anyone to stay with you.” I tell him angrily, his hands twisting around my forearms, untwisting them from my back and pulling them flush against his chest.
His blood was practically boiling. I could feel his hot breath on my face, his eyes burning with fury. “You better shut up before I make you shut up, Y/N.” He whispered roughly.
I raised my eyebrow, testing his patience. “Or what? You’ll have me arrested? You can’t do that.” I whisper, close to his face. I don’t think he could’ve gotten more mad than he already was but boy I was wrong.
He slammed his lips against mine, releasing my wrists to grab my face roughly. His hands claimed dominance on my jaw, sliding into my hair and pulling it. His mouth was engulfing mine, his tongue deep in my mouth. I melted into his touch, his rough hold on me making me release the madness against him. His lips left my lips, melting down to my neck. He left heated kisses, making my head lean back on the wall. His teeth grazed my neck, nibbling it and licking it with his wicked tongue.
My hands clinged on his chest, the hardness of it under my fingers. His chest flexed under my harsh touch, my hands going all the way to his back and his slutty waist I had been eyeing for months. His breath was hot and sweaty on my neck, suddenly taking a bite into my neck, making me whimper softly.
His lips left my neck, lifting his head to speak directly on my lips. “I hate you so much that it makes me love you.” He whispered on my lips, kissing me harshly with his hands around my jaw.
He pulled me off the wall, his hands roaming down to my thighs and lifting them up to his waist. My hands went in his hair, his sharp jaw and all of the hot skin I could touch.
He sat down on the bed, taking me on his lap. His hands were all over me, on my waist down to my hips and ass. He groped anything he could find. My lips went on his neck, tilting his head to give me better access. I found his sweet spot, making him cry out, moaning into my shoulder. He whispered in my ear, “We shouldn’t be doing this, Y/N.” His voice was rough and needy at the same time.
“Everything about you tells me otherwise, Spencer.” I whisper roughly, kissing back up to his jaw, my hips set over his. He pulled my hips flush on his, a gasp leaving my mouth.
“Fuck it.” He mumbled under his breath, switching positions to set me under him, his tie falling on my chest. Both of us were hot and sweaty, our breaths labored and heart pounding. His hips were set harshly on mine, feeling every single inch of him.
I grabbed his tie, pulling him closer to my face. “You’re not lying?” I whispered, my eyes fiery but not angered. He knotted his eyebrows slightly. “About what?” He mumbled softer than usual.
“About loving me? Because I would be a liar if I said I didn’t feel the same way.” I spoke softly, one hand tugging his tie and the other touching his jaw.
“I’m not lying.” He whispered, a glimpse of surprise in his eyes. His gaze softened a little, both of his arms around my head.
“Good.” I whisper, my lips grazing his swollen lips. “Because there’s no going back to before after this.” I whispered, kissing him roughly. My hands on his jaw, feeling the power of it while he kissed me with exploding passion for the rest of night and for the following years.
#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds#criminal minds imagine#matthew gray gubler#spencer reid angst#spencer reid smut#spencer reid x you#dr spencer reid#bau team
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THE LOVE LASTS SO LONG (16)
In which the burn bursts into flames
series masterlist
This is the finale! imma keep doing blurbs tho, let me know if u have any requests for one shots :)
★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★
ollieupdates
ollieupdates OLLIE BEARMAN MAIDEN WIN, CANADA GRAND PRIX.
liked by aubreyyang, f1updateeess and 92,048 others
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olliebearheart YES YES YES IN AUBREYS HOME COUNTRY TOO
user1 he works so hard GOOD JOB BEARMAN
user2 well deserved, incredible race
aubreyfanpage1 LOOK AT MOM IN THE LIKES WOOOOO
olliebearman posted
olliebearman FIRST WIN LET'S GO!
Huge thank you to the team and the fans who have been along with me for this crazy ride. Getting to race and do something I love everyday is an honour. Here's to many more wins! 🏆🥂
liked by aubreyyang, charles_leclerc and 110,278 others
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aubreyyang so incredibly proud of you! all of your hard work and talent finally paid off, can't wait to see you conquer the f1 world even more in the future ❤️
-- olliebearman ❤️
--user1 IM GASPING FOR AIR RN THIS IS SOFT LAUNCHING EJIREJ
charles_leclerc LETS GO TECHNICALLY STILL A LECLERC WIN LOOK AT MY SON
-- user2 AJREJRG FERRARIS ROYAL FAMILY FR
kimiantonelli well done mate :) party hard
oscarpiastri congrats bro 👊
-- user3 HIM NOT REPLYING TO ANYONE ELSE EXCEPT HIS GIRL BAHAHA
maxverstappen good job, loved sharing a podium with you
f1olliebearman posted
clip one: ollie crosses the line, only seconds before max. The garage is screaming with excitement, and the camera pans to Aubrey and David, the girl clutching the older man's elbow as they are both sobbing with happy tears.
clip two: Ollie, soaked with champagne and sweat runs up to his dad and Aubrey. She lets him hug David first, the older man kissing his face and head, wrapping his arms around his son. Aubrey stands back, still silently crying and laughing. An engineer rubs her back and she laughs. Ollie turns to her, running the small distance and pulling her off her feet into a hug. She's got her arms around his neck, and he's holding her up by her waist. She whispers something in his ear, and he presses his face into her neck. He sets her down, although he keeps her in his embrace. He has to bend a little to keep their position, and she peppers the side of his face with kisses. Someone hands him his water, and she has to push him gently off so he can hydrate. He keeps a finger tucked in the loop of her miniskirt as he thanks the person.
f1olliebearman Aubrey and ollie after the race
liked by user1, loverboysf1 and 22,349 others
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user1 NAHH THEYRE DEF IN LOVE JUST WAITING FOR THE HARD LAUNCH ATP
landogirlyee stop this is the height difference we all deserve
user2 HER LETTING HIM HUG DAVID FIRST??? THE WAY HE LIFTED HER UP?? ‼️
-- loverboysf1 THE WAY HE DIDNT WANT TO LET GO?? BRB GONNA GO KMS ‼️
user3 when is it my turn to be a dainty girl with her large tall bf
-- user4 bro wtf go touch some grass pls 😭
Aubrey shifted, shimmying the bottom of her dress down a little. They were out celebrating his win, and she was taking a breather from all the dancing Alexandra was making her do. Ollie was a little ways off with Lewis and Charles, in a heated discussion about presumably the race. She smiled as she watched him, all pale skin and flushed cheeks. His win, his maiden win, and she was here to witness it. Even if she wasn't in love with him, it was undeniable; Ollie Bearman, the dazzling starlet was the future of the industry.
"Hey, you look lonely." A blonde man joined her where she stood by the bar.
"Oh, I'm okay. Just taking a second." she smiled politely.
"You're an actress, right? I'm Logan. I drive for Williams?" he smiled, and if she wasn't completely taken by Ollie, she would've melted. He looked a bit like her ex, all sandy blonde and muscular and american.
"Yeah. I'm Aubrey." she shook his extended hand, trying to extract it, but he held on.
"I love your work," he grinned, and she weakly backed away.
"Look, you seem really sweet, Logan, but I-"
"Aubrey." A warm, familiar hand landed on her waist, a tether back to reality.
"Hey, winner." she murmured softly at his clenched jaw and dark eyes.
Ollie never got like this, not with her ex, not with the men who catcalled her in the streets. But it was...
Okay, fine, it was kinda hot. Extremely.
Logan's puppy dog eyes widened a fraction with realization.
"Oh. Oh. Oh!" he backed off, patting Ollie's arm, "Sorry, mate."
He departed quickly, and the grimace on Ollie's face stayed.
"Why the long face?" she hummed, stroking his cheek. He held her hand to his face, the moment intimate amidst the bustle of the bar.
"Barely got to see you all night," he drew her closer, "and you look so beautiful."
"That's okay, babe. Enjoy tonight. You have all the time in the world to tell me how pretty I look."
He had an odd look on his face; it was one she wasn't sure how to read.
"Let's go back to hotel." he whispered in her ear.
"What?" she asked, "It's barely midnight!"
"I don't want to be anywhere but with you. And right now, I think we need some privacy."
He led her through the crowd, and smiled politely when people aww'd at the fact he was leaving. Alex kissed her cheek with a knowing look, and Aubrey accepted a quick hug from Charles and Max.
The car ride over in the back of the taxi was silent, tension brewing between them. She was sober enough to stay quiet, but tipsy enough to slide her hand in his larger one.
She felt relieved when his calloused fingers curled around hers.
He led her into the elevator, a heavy, thinking look on his handsome face.
"I wasn't...I didn't want him to flirt with me, y'know." she told him, avoiding eye contact. It was funny, since their hands were still intertwined.
One second she was lifting her head to look at him, the next Ollie had her pinned against the elevator wall.
His nose bumped against hers as he inhaled, and exhaled into her mouth. She didn't know if she was dizzy from the rising height of the elevator or simply him.
He pressed his lips to hers, and she gasped in surprise.
His mouth was warm and smooth, his tongue asking for entrance at the seam of her lips.
He licked into her mouth, and she let out a whine, fingers grasping desperately at his arms.
He pulled back, groaning.
"I'm sorry, we should talk. But you just looked..." he trailed off, swollen lips mouthing at the sensitive skin of her neck, nipping and sucking a little track on her skin.
"Oh-" she started, hands dragging to his chest. She knew she sounded desperate.
"I love you." He blurted out, "I had a stupid crush on you when I was like 14, and I met you and you're the most wonderful person I know. You're so kind, and you make me feel like a person, not just a famous driver. I know that you might not feel the same way I do, but I can treat you right. I promise, I will never hurt you, or let anyone."
His eyes, brown and earnest and oh so familiar made her heart ache. How could he think that she didn't love him just as much, or even more?
"One chance, please. I can make you happy, love. Just let me try." he nearly begged, hands winding around her waist.
"I love you." she murmured back, "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize it. I want to be with you forever, and I know I'm coming off way too strong-"
He cut her off with a watery laugh.
"But you've shown me what love is supposed to be. In its true form, not some half-hearted warped example. And all I can hope is that I can return that love for you. Because I really do. I don't think I've ever loved anyone like you, Ollie. You're it."
He smiled, a real, genuine smile for the first time in the past hour. Seeing him all crinkly-eyed and happy made something burst low and hot in her stomach.
She reached up and dragged him by his collar so she could taste him again, all because now she could.
When she pulled back for air, and he chased her lips.
She giggled, and he rolled his eyes, nipping at her earlobe.
She pressed herself against him again, threading her fingers through his hair and pulling them together once more. She kissed him, this time slow and soft but both of their smiles were so big that it was more like pressing their teeth together.
"I think we missed our floor."
"That's what you're focused on right now?"
aubberieyaang posted
aubberieyaang my loverboy
liked by celine_diorr, bearyfast_04 and 12 others
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alexandrasaintmleux FINALLY HOLY
leosdad yay my kids are dating
-- bearyfast_04 please dont say it like that
celine_diorr REPLACED BY A WHITE MAN
-- aubberieyaang erm sorry babe YOULL ALWAYS BE MY #1
bearyfast_04 I love you so much
-- aubberieyaang I love you more sweet boy
-- walkdontrun OKAY EWW
-- bearyfast_04 I can get you paddock passes?
-- walkdontrun omg my step dad
bearyfast_04 posted
bearyfast_04 my pretty girl
liked by kimi_possible, chililos55 and 18 others
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chililos55 congrats to you and ur gf!!
-- leosdad this time its actually real
aubberieyaang WOW YOU ARE SO HANDSOME R U SINGLE
-- bearyfast_04 no actually im taken by the prettiest, most talented, hard working kind and loving woman ever
-- celine_diorr dude she just texted me shes crying
-- aubberieyaang NO IM NOT
kimi_possible we get it ur in love
-- bearyfast_04 ur just jealous
-- kimi_possible I have a gf??
★・・・・★・・・・ ★・・・・★
Taglist: @callsignwidow @iloveyou3000morgan @honethatty12 @taygrls @destinyg237 @ilivbullyingjeongin @eiaaasamantha @1uvsptnik @yla-aira @ririyulife
© sweetteainthesummerx.tumblr. all rights reserved. unauthorized copying, translation, or claiming of my writing or any works as your own is strictly prohibited.
#f1 drivers#f1 smau#f1 x reader#formula 1#ollie bearman#ollie bearman x reader#ollie bearman x you#charles leclerc#f1 fanfic#f1 imagine#ollie bearman fluff#ollie bearman imagine#mutual pining#best friends to lovers#formula 2#prema racing#ferrari
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stopping by to say how much I love your writing again ;v;!! was wondering if I could request some priest afton content (you know that man would have a god complex) teehee
☥ the fallen one (William Afton x fem!reader)
hi angel! im very happy to know you like my writing! thank u for requesting priest Afton because myself been thinking bout this idea too ᡣ𐭩 im not sure if 2nd part needed but I hope you’ll like this!! also sorry if it’s little, I just wanna write some silly headcanons and blurbs bc big fics take very much strength which I don’t have rn :(
tags: nsfw, smut, au, older man/younger woman, priest!William, William’s pervert thoughts, oral sex (m and f receiving), vaginal sex, innaproriate use of cross?, obsessed William, small daddy kink, confessions, church
♡ As the priest, William couldn't help but be drawn to you, the innocent (as he thought) parishioner who often attended his church. Your ethereal beauty stirred something dark within him. Every time you entered the church, William's thoughts were consumed by you. He imagined the feel of your soft skin under his fingertips, the scent of your hair as he leaned in close to whisper prayers in your ear. He knew he shouldn't entertain such impure thoughts, but did he really care? In his twisted fantasies, he imagined you kneeling before him, your eyes pleading for salvation. He couldn't help but imagine you kneeling not in prayer, but in submission before him. That’s not what priest must imagine, right?
His mind wandered to the most depraved corners of desire. He fantasized about taking you in the sacred confines of the church, defiling the holy sanctum with your shared sin. He imagined bending you over the altar, your body a sacred offering to his carnal desires, each rough thrust ripping off you angelic moans. And yes, he longed to come inside you, the thought of claiming you as his, of filling you with his seed made him feral.
He pictured you kneeling before him, your lips parting as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip. He imagined your warm, wet mouth around his cock, such an angelic sight. He imagined guiding your head, urging you to take him deeper, nearly fucking your cute throat. He could almost feel the tightness of it as you swallowed him whole.
He imagined himself parting your trembling thighs, revealing your pussy to him. He’d eat you out like a man possessed, tongue tracing circles on your clit, sucking and nibbling with a hunger that knew no bounds. The thought of hearing your whimpers of ecstasy, of feeling you arch under him, drove him to the edge of sanity.
In his thoughts, he pictured you writhing beneath him, your back arched in pleasure as you called out his name in that sweet angelic voice of yours. Your hands would claw at his back as he abused your cunt, your screams growing louder with each hard thrust as he fucks you.
He imagined circling your cute nipples with a cross, the cool metal pressing against your heated flesh as you let out a sigh, the cool metal sending shivers down your spine. The thought of defiling you in such a manner, of using the symbol of his faith to evoke pleasure, to touch something forbidden, something his eyes mustn’t see. The sight of you, bathed in the soft glow of the candles, fully exposed in front of him, the devil in saint clothes. That was a sin.
He heard your voice, soft and pleading, as you begged for more. “Touch me,” you’d gasp. “Use me for your pleasure, daddy. I'm yours, my soul is yours.”
He’d lean in close, his breath hot against your skin as he trails his tongue over your hard nipples. “Do you feel it?” he’d murmur. "Your pussy is so wet for me. Dear God, you're dripping. . .”
His kisses would grow bolder, more aggressive, as his desire for you consumed him. He could almost feel the way your body would respond, the slight arch of your back, the soft sighs and gasps.
William saw himself pulling you closer, your bodies pressed together, his lips moving up to your ear. He would nibble gently on your earlobe, his breath hot and heavy. “You’re mine, every inch of you, every breath, your soul. You belong to me.”
He watched with sinful delight as you moaned in pleasure, your breath coming in ragged gasps. With his other hand, he circled and rubbed your clit sweetly. His fingers danced over your swollen bundle as he watched your needy face. The slickness of your arousal coating his fingers. He’d waste no time thrusting them into you, enjoying the squelching sounds your cunt would made. He’d finger you, at first slow and gently with his thumb on your clit.
As he felt you clench around his fingers, he closed his eyes and whispered, his voice trembling as his cock hard and throbbing. “Forgive me for i have sinned. But this pussy is just too good, too sweet, too tempting to resist.”
Your moans and whimpers as you take his fingers, echoing in the depths of the church.
William Afton was your master, your tormentor, your God.
However, his idea of you as an innocent being disappeared after one incident.
Taking a deep breath, you whispered. “Father, forgive me, for I have sinned.”
Afton's voice, low and velvety, floated through the lattice screen. “Tell me, my child, what weighs heavy on your soul?”
“I, uh. . .” you stuttered, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I. . . touched myself. I pleasured myself,” you confessed in a hushed tone. “I couldn't resist the temptation, Father. The desire was too strong.”
Afton remained silent for a moment, giving you a serious look. “My child, such thoughts and actions are indeed sinful. . .” he started explaining you. “but you are not alone in your struggle.“ although this one he said in his thoughts.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as relief washed over you, “Thank you, Father,” you whispered. “I needed to confess, to seek redemption for my sins.”
“Rest assured, my child,” Afton replied. “Your sins are forgiven, but remember, temptation lurks around every corner. Stay vigilant, and may the grace of God guide you on your journey to salvation.”
His thoughts were a chaotic blend of obsession and disgust. He wanted to worship you, to kneel before you as if you were a goddess, to drink in your purity and let it cleanse him of his sins. But at the same time, he wanted to destroy that purity, to fuck you rough and make you scream in agony, in pain, he’d lick your tears and order you to beg forgiveness for your sins, beg God to save you. The more he yearned for you, the more he despised you for making him feel this way. Your every movement, every glance, every smile, laughter seemed to radiate a divine light that both enchanted and tormented him.
But even as he plotted his next move, a part of him knew that he would always come back to you. You were his obsession, his muse, his greatest sin.
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