#ANYWAYS ... whatever literally every coworker of mine hates her

[stedesbonnets]

i forgot to explain what happened

so i work with a jerk, who's "above" me but not really my boss, although he thinks he can boss me around and be rude to me, bc the boss is his girlfriend. one time he literally kicked me out of the counter and i was so furious i told the head pharmacist right away

so i can't stand him, but i still talk to him politely, when i can't avoid it

anyway, i was working in the storage room and he walked in, i looked at him and didn't say much, bc he literally never answers me when i thank him for opening the door for me

then my boss asked me to fill the otc shelves, and i needed the phone scanner thingy, which i couldn't find, and my coworker told me to check with him. now i really don't wanna talk to him, but whatever. i go to his """"office""" and ask if he has it

the guy ignores me. keeps typing on his computer as if i'm a ghost. which was 1) very insulting 2) unserious

i get hot flashes and an urge to scream. he literally snitched on me once for taking his encoder (it was mine. he literally saw me placing it on my cart) so i ask the boss to come down and tell her i'm not in a fucking kindergarten, and that he needs to answer me on work related things

i hate him with every fiber of my being

i need a drink

[wincore]

romeo roulette | jung yoonoh

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

summary: if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.

genre: soulmate au, office au, fake dating, fluff (a lot), angst (a little), romcom, magical realism (??)

words: 21.2k

warnings: language

song recs: playlist here !

a/n: behold ! a kdrama compressed in a fic ! ok i was lying there was more than a little angst but all in good fun <3 i have never experienced working in an office (thanks to the panny) but i tried making it as accurate as i could !! hope you have fun with this <3

It’s not that you’ve never been looked at with a lover’s gaze, it’s just that whatever look Jaehyun has been giving you is mildly uncomfortable. It’s not supposed to be that way. Hell, even his hand clasping yours are a little too clammy for your liking.

Jung Yoonoh. Get your act together.

You wish he were a better actor than this. For someone used to eyes on him in each and every room he’s in, he’s not very good at making eye contact. You’ll be saving this performance. Not to stroke your own ego but at least you know how to behave under strong gazes.

There are three people staring at the two of you and your fingers intertwined, scrutinizing your postures and the expressions on your faces. Maybe Jaehyun should face them instead of glancing at you wordlessly. He’s a terrible liar for someone who acts so smooth. 

You look up with a short smile. The aforementioned three are your coworkers—former class rep at uni and your current boss Doyoung, your friend Soojin and Jaehyun’s friend Sicheng from IT. None of them look happy—like it concerns them. If there was a competition for nosy coworkers, this entire group would be winning awards left and right (and that’s including you). 

They’re going to find out, an annoying voice giggles inside the quiet corner of your brain. Like hell, they will. You didn’t take up acting lessons in college for nothing. You just need to focus on the details.

This whole charade dates its beginning to a week ago. 

If someone were to tell you Jung Yoonoh from marketing is your soulmate, you would most certainly either laugh or take it as a genuine insult. Hence, you were glad when you found that he isn’t. 

It was an accident. You had glimpsed at his soulmark, right below his collarbone, at a particularly wild office afterparty—and somehow, you thought it was fitting that his tattoo was a little red heart. For someone born on Valentine’s day (which you know from a night out with coworkers, not because you’re remotely interested), if his soulmark was not something as disgusting as a heart, it would be the textbook definition of irony. But then again, fate is a funny thing. Your soulmark is a heart roughly the same size, with a little more intricacy in the form of a piercing arrow.

Despite all, however, if someone were to ask you if Jung Yoonoh is the worst person to be your soulmate, the answer is no. You can name at least five coworkers off the top of your head that you’d choose him over. You would choose him over Doyoung (and especially his nagging), you would choose him over Taeyong because he’s too hot and you also don’t like men in a higher position than you are, you would choose him over Jungwoo because you suspect he’s secretly a furry. Jaehyun is certainly better than your deskmate Dongmin who, despite an angelic smile, is: a) too distant to make actual conversation with, and b) in a relationship despite being your soulmate. Sweet-tempered Dongmin doesn’t even know it’s you. You’d love to be the bearer of bad news but this one—you’re not exactly ready for it yourself.

So that’s the explanation for why you hunted down Jaehyun and in a desperate attempt to not seem pathetic, coerced him into a role that has carefully picked benefits for either of you. You just have to bite the bullet sometimes.

“And I get what out of this?”

“Me? Temporarily, that is.”

Jaehyun laughs in amusement and you drop your smile, almost offended. If you were a gift, you’d certainly be an attractive, spicy, hot one—he doesn’t have to look at you so incredulously. In a neat business suit, Jaehyun is as kempt as ever though his tie could do with some more work.  As an HR assistant, his appearance pleases you. However as a person, the perfection annoys the hell out of you. He could show himself to be more human. It would make your job (both the actual and the metaphorical) easier.

“I’m leaving,” he announces with a nonchalant exhale. “You keep messing around during work hours like this and people are going to think you’re jobless.”

“Wait!” 

You jog up to him and block his path, crossing your arms as you huff at his indignance. 

“I said no,” he repeats, and when he tries to evade you, you push him back with your palm flat against his chest. Jaehyun doesn’t show any more discomfort than usual, biting the inside of his cheek.

“You haven’t found your soulmate, right?” you say, taking a deep breath. If you have to resort to psychological warfare, so be it.

His smile wavers and he straightens, no longer leaning against the printer desk. “No. How does that matter?”

“It matters because you’re going to be my pretend-soulmate. Now, don’t be a pussy.”

He opens his mouth and closes it, furrowing his eyebrows. “You can’t always trick me into doing what you want.”

“I’ll ask Doyoung if you say no.”

“See—enough with the tricks, they don’t work anymore. I’ve known you for two years.”

“I really will ask him.”

“Not convincing enough. You don’t even talk to Doyoung outside work.”

You groan into your hand, taking a few moments to come up with another plan. How is your obvious charisma not enough? You certainly can’t tell him how rejected you feel with the whole Dongmin situation even if his rejection hasn’t officially come yet. It’s too embarrassing for a grown adult to go through. You don’t mind being lonely for the rest of your life if you’re successful. There’s a price tag on each decision you make anyway.

“I’ll treat you to lunch every day. I’ll pay.”

You cross your arms, tapping your foot in anticipation. They say the way to a man’s heart is through the stomach. Besides, Jaehyun hates spending his lunch money on himself. This ought to do something.

Jaehyun places his hand in front of his mouth in mock surprise. “Oh no, out of your beloved paycheck? That’s kind of scary, honestly.”

“Jaehyun. Stop messing around. I’m being serious.”

He purses his lips, hesitation across his face. You don’t like the way he thinks, with quiet, lost eyes and no clear giveaways on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

You smile in relief though you try somewhat to not let it show on your face. 

“On one condition.”

Your eyes dart across his face, nothing that tells what he might suggest next. You hate when you don’t get to decide on things.

“You have to come visit my family next month and pose as my soulmate—”

“No way.”

“—and when this whole game you’re playing is over, you’re going to say I rejected you.”

You stare at him, weighing the odds. 

“Fine,” you say finally, voice pitched in slight annoyance.

Jaehyun shrugs.

“But I tell my parents that I rejected you. Or they’ll come after you with a task force or something.”

You mutter the last part.

He grimaces, holding his breath for a good few seconds and then letting it go.

“Alright. It’s not like mine and your parents know each other—or will ever meet.”

“Fine then,” you say. “We have an agreement.”

“We have an agreement,” he repeats.

Now, back to more pressing matters. The people in front of you aren’t a stupid lot—even if you've seen Doyoung spend $500 on plush toys, seen Sicheng absentmindedly walk into a desk and pretend to not be in pain for the next five minutes and Soojin somehow convinced a senior to get her coffee because she thought he was an intern (in her defence, it worked). 

The only way is to act through. You clear your throat.

"We… we discovered it last week. Our signs match."

Technically, you drew an arrow with a permanent marker over Jaehyun's tattoo in an attempt to resemble yours. It's not awful, but perhaps not perfect. 

“Discovered? Like just happened to find out?” Doyoung asks.

“Isn’t Jaehyun’s on…” Soojin leans in to whisper hurriedly in your ear. “On his butt? Did you guys sleep together?”

You contort your face in disgust. “The what? What? Who told you that? And no.”

Soojin makes an ‘ah’ sound and leans back. “I should stop listening to office rumours then.”

"You should." You glare at her.

Sicheng is the only one without questions at the tip of his tongue but the look on his face worries you most. 

“I’ve never seen your tattoo, now that I think about it,” he muses, turning to Jaehyun. “Although we’re roommates.”

Jaehyun clears his throat, looking around with shifty eyes. "Why is… why is everyone looking so suspicious?"

"It's just… so sudden," Soojin says, looking around at the others.

"Yeah," Sicheng mutters.

"Soulmate fraud is a big deal too, you know that right?" Doyoung informs. "You could get put in jail."

You throw up your hands in exasperation. "Why would we pretend? We don't have any reason to. And, uh, you're sure about the jail thing?"

You look at Doyoung, hoping your question didn’t come off too squeaky. 

"You’re right,” he says, sighing. “It’s so unlikely for soulmates to work in the same company, let alone the same building.”

“Oh, yes, I’m so lucky,” you mutter under your breath.

Doyoung sighs. "Look, we're happy for you. It's just that… it's a little sudden."

"Literally what I just said," Soojin says.

"Literally what she just said," Doyoung agrees quickly, not wanting to pick a fight. Sometimes you wonder who the real boss is.

"Look, just because we don't even acknowledge each other or find each other remotely attractive or wouldn't even be each other's office Christmas card candidate—"

Jaehyun nudges your side with his elbow and gives you a look that seems a lot like "You're making it worse".

You clear your throat. "That's what happens to most soulmates! You think you're going to land the perfect one and boom. You get a chump from marketing."

Jaehyun makes a sound of protest. "I didn't want a snob from HR either."

The two of you glare at each other, and you find that clenching his jaw makes Jaehyun slightly (around 0.05%) more attractive, or at the very least more bearable to look at.

Doyoung gasps. "Okay, I get it. You're having adjustment issues. I know a guy for that. He's helped every newly found soulmate couple adjust with each other."

"We don't need that," you interrupt, offering your fakest smile.

"You do," Doyoung responds, his smile equally fake. "I'll drive you this weekend if you're free. He’ll give you one free session. No more, because we all know how capitalism works."

People have got to stop copying your fake smile. You wish you could have it copyrighted because after all, it’s the same smile that tricks interviewees into thinking they got the job. It’s not evil if you say it isn’t. You open your mouth, look at Jaehyun doing the same and when you can't come up with an excuse, give up and nod. 

"Don't look so resentful," Doyoung says, tone slightly complaining. "I'm not doing this as your boss. We were friends in college and I'm just doing you a favour. A friendly favour."

Soojin hums in deep thought. "I feel like this is some sort of nepotism."

"I feel like you should open a dictionary once in a while," Doyoung mutters, only to get a vaguely threatening look from Soojin.

"Anyway," Sicheng diverts, eyes curious when he turns to Doyoung. "Why did you call us here?"

"Ah." Doyoung's eyes widen. "I heard promotion rumours."

Sicheng lets out a loud huff of annoyance. "You summoned us here for company gossip?"

Doyoung crosses his arms. “So, you’re not interested?”

“Who said that?” Sicheng responds quickly, leaning in.

The five of you huddle closer in a circle, looking as conspicuous as a cult. 

“You guys know that Jinyoung’s leaving, right?” Doyoung starts.

Soojin gasps audibly only to get a smack on the arm from Doyoung. “Why’s he leaving? He's like employee of the month every month. ”

A few chuckles pass through the group at her discontentment from months of losing out on the title.

“I heard he found his soulmate. Lucky ass gets tax benefits too now,” Sicheng complains. “Why is he leaving?”

“Oh, look who’s interested in gossip now,” Soojin coos.

Sichengs turns red in the face and looks away, clearing his throat. “You’re gonna answer my question, Doyoung?”

“Oh! Right.” Doyoung looks up from a text. “He got rejected by his soulmate.”

Soojin covers her mouth this time when she gasps and you can’t say your jaw doesn’t drop as well. 

“Rejected? Like our picture-perfect Jinyoung got rejected?” you repeat, trying to process the information. “Please don’t tell me he decided to be an idiot and sign a mutual rejection.”

“No, he didn’t lose his senses,” Doyoung responds with a duh undertone. “He’s getting the compensation money.”

You sigh. “Man, I feel bad for him.”

Jaehyun hums in agreement. There’s a hush over the group and you feel fear rise in your chest. You don’t want to be rejected. You’ve seen how happy Dongmin looks with his girlfriend—he’d reject you in a heartbeat. Of course, you could just receive the compensation money from the one-sided rejection and get it over with but you refuse to. It hurts to not be wanted. It hurts to not be wanted by someone who’s supposed to want you. To be specific, it hurts your pride. Every time you see the damn arrowed heart on Dongmin’s wrist, which he tries so hard to cover with his watch, you feel like throwing up. You’re glad yours isn’t as easy to spot—resting right above your hip bone.

“Anyway, someone’s getting promoted to that HR specialist position.”

You gasp. “Is it me? It’s me, right?”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes and you elbow him. “What’s with you?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he says, shrugging. “Isn’t it stupid to get your hopes up over a rumour?”

Doyoung breathes out. “Wow, (name) really sucked the life out of you, Jaehyun.”

You glare at him when Soojin breaks into a fit of laughter. “You- you know what that- you know what that sounds like, right?”

Your face contorts into disgust and you shake your head. “Let’s be more professional, alright, Soojin?”

She clears her throat and straightens her clothes, like a teenager being reprimanded. “I’m your senior. It’s embarrassing when you say that to me.”

Jaehyun speaks up and turns to you. “I think lunch break is almost over.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So?”

“You’re forgetting something.” He smiles, dimples showing, but his eyes come off menacing.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You forgot about that stupid lunch promise. 

“Hey. Professional,” Soojin warns.

You groan and link your arm through Jaehyun’s, making him bite back a smile. What is it with men and getting weirdly happy about lunch?

“We’re gonna go get lunch,” you announce.

“Ooh, (name)’s ditching quality time with coworkers for dates now,” Soojin coos.

You roll your eyes and exit the office, stopping to wait in front of the elevator.

“I think that went well,” Jaehyun says, shrugging lightly.

“Shh. What if they hear us?”

“Do you think they’re X-men? We’re a long corridor and closed doors away.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Still…”

Jaehyun’s smug smile makes you want to smack it right off and this isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way with him. You swear he’s not as bad as some of the guys you’ve met but Jaehyun is simply annoying. An A grade nuisance. You can trust him though. If Soojin says he’s a reliable guy, you’ll believe her—she doesn’t bluff when it comes to seeing right through men, though she does have a tendency to believe stupid rumours.

“Your acting was shit though,” you snipe.

Jaehyun lets out a low sardonic laugh. “At least I was subtle when I was messing up.”

You cross your arms and huff. “You know what? You can take the next elevator ride.”

“Huh?”

You step into the elevator just as the doors open and quickly jam your finger to the close doors button. The look of betrayal on Jaehyun’s face is subtle but it’s enough to satisfy you. As the saying goes, when one door closes, another one opens—it’s very applicable to elevators. He can take the other one.

However, almost immediately after, the elevator doors open and you groan, opening your mouth to send a sarcastic congratulations to Jaehyun for pressing the button on time.

Your words hitch on your tongue. Dongmin greets the two of you with a smile, standing beside Jaehyun, who has his eyes averted from you.

“Hey,” Dongmin greets. “Congratulations. I heard the news.”

“Thanks,” you croak, clearing your throat with a bit of heat on your cheeks. Jaehyun looks like he might burst into a fit of laughter any moment and you shoot him a subtle glare.

“Where are you headed to?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m going to grab a sandwich from the cafeteria.”

“We’re also headed to the cafeteria,” Jaehyun declares, with a smile that’s almost devilish.

“No, we’re not,” you say quickly, making Dongmin raise an eyebrow. You hold back a groan. If only Dongmin weren’t raised to be the politest man you know and a little bit more of an asshole. 

You hum and turn to Jaehyun. “I told you about that new cafe. Remember, honey?”

Dongmin makes an ‘o’ with his mouth. “Nicknames, already? Ah, I’m so jealous. It must be great to get along with your soulmate.”

Oh, the sweet summer child that Dongmin is.

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “Oh, won’t it take too long, darling? We have—”

He makes a show of checking his Rolex, a gift he received from his superior that he spares no chance to flex.

“—Around ten minutes left.”

You hold back a groan and plaster on your smile. “Come on. Now is the best time.”

“That sounds like a load of—”

You elbow Jaehyun hard in the gut and a restrained sound dies in his throat, eyes widening in the sweet look of discomfort taking over his features. You smile triumphantly and turn to Dongmin with an immediate change of expression.

“I’ll see you in office later,” you say, bowing slightly.

Dongmin nods and gets off on the fifth floor. You watch in quiet relief as the elevator door closes and turn to your dear companion, irked.

“Did you have to do that?” Jaehyun asks, voice raspy with pain.

“You deserved it. Don’t you dare make this a bigger mess than it already is.”

“You came up with it.” Jaehyun straightens, finally. Apart from the few loose strands of his neatly parted hair, he doesn’t seem all that disgruntled.

“And we’re going to set some ground rules,” you declare, closing your arms.

Jaehyun straightens to his full height, the space between the two of you diminishing. 

"Okay," he agrees. "Then we both get a say in it. It's a contract, after all."

"Fine. First rule, no being weird around Dongmin."

Jaehyun chuckles. "I think you need to be more careful about that than I do."

You pat his cheek. "Focus. Just don't- don't be around him for too long."

Jaehyun purses his lips. "Why are you so uncomfortable around him? I thought you were doing this because you didn't want to reject him."

You glance away, feeling uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter. I just don't want him to know."

Jaehyun hums. "Fine. My turn. No calling me a chump."

Your cheeks puff up as you try to contain your laughter. "It bothered you that much, huh?"

Jaehyun furrows his brows. "No one's ever called me that before. It's always 'oh my god, he's so handsome, who is he?' or 'ooh, I might faint from how hot he is'."

You giggle. "Alright, handsome."

Jaehyun exhales, his puffed cheeks making him look like a resentful five year old instead of a grown man with a professional job. You pause before you get back on track.

“No nicknames,” you blurt. “It’s weird when you call me something endearing. And your flirting feels kind of threatening.”

“What do you mean, baby?”

“See! You’re doing it again.” You cross your arms at the look on his face; anything close to victorious over Jaehyun’s features is unbearable to you.

He raises his arms in exasperation. “How are we supposed to make this work if we act like we don’t care about each other. Guess why Doyoung’s taking us to couple therapy?”

You huff, slightly pissed off. “You’re saying it was my fault?”

“I’m saying we could have avoided that with better acting.”

“You think you’re so—”

The elevator door opens with a ding on the first floor and you turn to find a bunch of interns back from their lunch break. It would be much less of an awkward affair if you and Jaehyun weren’t well into each other’s personal spaces, noses almost touching and with a mutual glare which could be easily mistaken for a look of something more sensual. You jump away from Jaehyun and leave the elevator as fast as you can, feeling far too conscious of yourself. With long strides, you exit the corporate airs of the building to a sunny, fairly populous sidewalk. 

Jaehyun catches up to you, bending and trying to catch a glimpse of your face with an incredulous smile over his.

“Don’t say a word, Yoonoh.”

“Ooh, you’re saying my name now.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“I find it plenty funny.”

“That’s because of your trash sense of humour.”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t look so smug.”

Mondays are the days that make you want to scream in agony, not Thursdays—though they are pretty high up on the worst days of the week list. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe pretending to be in love with someone you simply cannot be in love with is an awful idea. 

Soulmates don’t need to be in love with each other, you think to yourself. There’s plenty of soulmates who are just in it for the financial benefits; you can just pretend to be one of them. This dilemma is starting to fray your nerves and Jung Yoonoh, with his lax disposition and dimpled cheeks, is making it worse. And to top it off, you now have to take him to your favourite (kind of secret) cafe in the name of the lies that slipped your tongue. It was supposed to be a quiet comfort spot for you.

You blow a puff of air out and dismiss the thought. Comfort spots aren’t real anyway when you’re all grown. There’s bound to be a breach. 

However, you will not let the (lacking) romance department of your life get sorted out by someone who doesn’t even know you. Lady luck would be an acquaintance to you at most. If fate is a game of chance after all, you might as well be the one spinning the roulette. You look at Jaehyun, piecing together the perfect plan for this seemingly frivolous play-pretend. The game is in your hands now. 

You blink at the figure of Jung Yoonoh under February sunlight on a modestly busy sidewalk. It’s not something to be surprised at—however, the stark contrast in attire makes you stare longer than you intend to. Wearing a black graphic hoodie and pair of worn out jeans, Jaehyun looks about as casual as you can bear. It’s always weird to see coworkers out of formal clothing.

“Are you just going to stare at me till Doyoung comes and picks us up?” he asks. 

You roll your eyes. 

“You look nice,” he says, and you glance down at your outfit with a flush of heat over your cheeks. It’s just a short A-line skirt, stockings and a sweatshirt. This is as basic as you get. What’s worse is that his comment didn’t sound sarcastic.

“You- You look nice too. I guess.” Once in a while, you will say something extremely stupid and pretend it never happened. The frequency increases around Jaehyun for some damn reason.

“You guess? I’m pretty sure I look more than nice.”

“And how long did you look at yourself in the mirror and practise catchphrases this time?”

Jaehyun’s ears turn the shade of cherries and you press down your smile. You knew that time you caught him talking to himself in front of a car window would play to your advantage. 

“What’s that you’re holding?” you ask, eyeing the plastic bag he’s holding.

“Ginseng,” he answers, staring blankly at the cars passing by. “I heard the couples therapist is in his sixties so he might find it useful.”

“Oh, old people stuff,” you muse quietly. “That’s quite thoughtful of you.”

You should’ve brought something, you think for a moment before realizing that couples probably don’t give separate gifts. 

“Thanks,” you mutter.

He raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

You shake your head. “Anyway, we might as well kill some time. Twenty questions. Let’s go.”

He laughs. “What are we, in college?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t make us sound like we’re thirty. I bet you’re the kind of guy who has his retirement plan figured out.”

“Wrong,” he emphasizes, face leaning closer. 

“Fine. I’ll start the questions, you unsalted block of butter. How many relationships have you been in?”

Jaehyun opens his mouth and closes it, ears turning red. “That’s your first question?”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m guessing it’s single digit and on the lower side.”

He rolls his eyes. “How many relationships have you been in?”

You shut your mouth. There’s a moment of silence, a breeze passing you by, carrying winter away in its arms to make room for spring. 

“Never found a relationship worth it,” you mutter, glancing away. 

Jaehyun hesitates before opening his mouth. “Me neither.”

“Good thing for us, eh? Love makes people crazy.”

Jaehyun faces you with a clipped smile. Never did you think Jaehyun from marketing would be relating to you on a personal matter.

“Oh, but I’ve had enough hookups and I can bet you’re mediocre at best in bed.” 

Jaehyun glares at you. “I am not and I can prove it to you.”

“Is that an invitation into your bed? No, thanks.”

He opens his mouth to retort but is interrupted by the Hyundai Grandeur pulling up to the sidewalk and rolling down the driver window to reveal Doyoung. He looks as overworked as usual, but his eyes are more tired, a bit of makeup covering the dark circles. You’ve heard his soulmate is a makeup artist for an idol group and wonder how they even came to be. Does fate throw darts randomly and pick its choice?

“Get in. Quick,” Doyoung instructs. “I have to drop you off and head home. My family is visiting. I didn’t even get a warning and they think I’m in a gay relationship with Taeyong because we still have our friendship rings from college.”

You want to laugh and agree but Doyoung looks rather pissed off so you hold it in. The two of you do as told, getting in the backseat and shutting the doors in sync. The car smells rather leafy mingling with the scent of fresh clothes and you eye the jar dangling from the rear-view mirror. You open your mouth to ask what scent that is when Doyoung’s voice rings out.

“What’s that?” Doyoung signals to the bag with Jaehyun.

Jaehyun looks down. “Ginseng extract.”

“Oh, the gift pack?” Doyoung asks. 

Jaehyun nods and Doyoung chuckles, shaking his head. “If that’s for Mr. Lee, forget it. He hates gifts. Something about inward appreciation and shit.”

Jaehyun groans, massaging his forehead. “What do I do with this then? Is this guy a priest?”

“Give it to Doyoung,” you suggest. “His family’s visiting.”

You hear an audible hum of approval from the driver seat and turn to Jaehyun making a face of reluctance. Maybe he isn’t so magnanimous after all, you think smiling.

“You’re both quite tame today,” Doyoung remarks, just when the silence is starting to swallow the inside of the car. “Makes me wonder if you need Mr. Lee after all.”

“We actually don’t…” You shake your head. “We’re here and it’s free so why not?”

Jaehyun shoots you a questioning look. It’s not like you can cancel when you’re in Doyoung’s car and already on the way. You’ve known your boss long enough to know the wrong answer to his questions. You look outside at Seoul streets and sigh. 

Jaehyun looks at you, your focus elsewhere and wishes this would end already. He has no idea what overcame him to accept your ridiculous offer but he must be just as ridiculous. At the very least, he finds you quite lovely to look at—not that he’d ever admit it to you. The foundation to this weird bickering friendship (if he can call it that) would be ruined by that. His ego, however, has been boosted up a few notches from the fact that you called him for help. He looks outside the window, holding back a smile. It’s a sunny day.

The therapist, Mr. Lee’s office building is a fancy one with an even fancier lobby. Baby pink leather couches cushion your bum nicely as you wait for your appointment. The architecture is that of a corporate firm and you feel quite at home with the large glass walls by the revolving door. This therapist guy must be rich as hell. The receptionist wears a formal uniform; her blouse is light pink with a grey pencil skirt and you like the look of it. You wonder if asking her where she bought it is time-appropriate. More couples sit around you and you, unfortunately, have to scoot closer to Jaehyun as a result. You do not want to catch that disease they all have. Why are they even here for therapy if they’re smiling at each other in that sickly enamored way? 

Now that you’re here, you’re starting to feel that this arrangement was ill-decisive. You should’ve done a better job of acting. You wonder if you can get a refund for that college course on acting, pouting as the ticking wall clock gets on your nerves. Even the marble floors are pink; the walls are mahogany red and there’s a heart-shaped wall clock, and should you glance around more, you’re going to nauseate yourself. This guy certainly takes his job seriously—or just really likes pink-red themes.

A woman in her early thirties exits the elevator and announces your names, and you click your tongue at the fact that she used Jung for your surname. It sounds distasteful. 

You follow her, starting to get nervous. You really hope this Mr. Lee isn’t as good as Doyoung says he is. Your fraud falling apart within three days is too embarrassing a defeat, not to mention bordering on illegal if found out. What the fuck does the government care about broken hearts and beneficial relationships? It’s so nosy. You understand the financial situation in case of happily bonded soulmates but apart from that, there really shouldn’t be this much discrepancy in the name of love.

Love drives people crazy. You’d rather not lose your good sense in the name of something so inane. After all, money makes the world go around, not love. 

Restricting a gag at the deep red heart on the door, you push them open with Jaehyun to find an old man sitting on a similar baby pink couch as in the lobby. He gets up to greet the two of you, the wrinkles on his face deepening when he smiles. Despite everything, he has a sort of grace to him, the one that comes with growing old elegantly. An upbeat song plays on a record player attached to the wall, although at a very low volume, and the tune reminds you of Animal Crossing. 

“Doyoung told me about the two of you,” Mr. Lee says, gesturing at the two of you to sit down. “How long has it been since you found out?”

“Six days,” you answer at the same time Jaehyun answers, “Four days”.

The two of you look at each other.

“Four-Six days. We didn’t keep track.”

“Ah,” Mr. Lee says. “How do you propose to celebrate your anniversary?”

You hesitate opening your mouth and declaring that you don’t really need to do that crap. Mr. Lee notices your expression and breaks into gentle laughter. 

“I’m kidding. Anniversary dates don’t matter,” he laughs. “It’s okay to celebrate your 100-day on the wrong day. Don’t worry.”

You purse your lips. To your dismay, Jaehyun isn’t as bothered by the sickly pink environment and Mr. Lee’s relaxed demeanour.

“I have a hundred percent success rate,” Mr. Lee assures the two of you, looking directly at you.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” you mutter under your breath and get a nudge from Jaehyun, who has his politest smile on.

You can’t believe Jaehyun has a better customer service mode than you do. If you didn’t know him, you’d be fooled into thinking he’s the nice guy character every office has. Unfortunately, that one goes to Dongmin. You hate getting stuck with nice guys (unless they offer financial stability).

“I think Doyoung might have been exaggerating,” Jaehyun explains calmly. “Whatever he told you.”

“He told me the two of you have a bickering problem. And staring at each other when the other isn’t looking.”

You cough. “That is not true. The staring part.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes at you. “I knew you were checking me out,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes. “Keep dreaming, Jaehyun.”

Mr. Lee laughs. “Your bickering seems to be quite affectionate. I don’t know what that boy was worried about.”

You press your lips together into a thin smile, annoyed that anyone would ever describe your interaction with a man as affectionate. It makes you feel like an idiot. You were always better off alone—the universe was wrong to assign Dongmin to you. Maybe you needed to see the apparent love of your life clearly in love with someone else to snap you to reality.

“However, what is a playful lover’s fight in the beginning can turn into real fights.”

“Right,” you mutter. “It’s all fun and games in the beginning.”

“The two of you have almost no animosity—you’ve known each other before you discovered the soulmark, right?”

The two of you nod, having already reconciled yourselves to this session. It’s a one-time thing, you tell yourself. It will be over soon.

“The soulmate information shouldn’t influence the relationship you already had. If anything, it should be drawing you closer. First time awkwardness is common.”

He’s starting to sound a lot like your high school sex ed teacher. You get the idea to pretend to be sick and get out of this early.

“Company policy too,” Jaehyun mutters. “Unofficial company policy makes office romance out to be some sort of sacrilege.”

“You know, I was the CEO of your company so I do know the policies,” Mr. Lee says, smiling in the confident, reserved way senior citizens offering wisdom do. 

You choke on the water you were taking a sip of, a coughing fit overcoming you and Jaehyun hesitates before awkwardly patting your back.

“Huh? CEO? I’m sorry?” you manage. 

Mr. Lee lets out a loud, hearty laugh. “I stepped down two years ago.”

“That’s when I joined,” you and Jaehyun say at the same time.

Mr. Lee smiles at the two of you wordlessly. “I have an idea for the two of you. Why don’t you try turning your ‘I’s into ‘we’s? Do some activities together and when you talk about it, you’ll find yourself much closer.”

You narrow your eyes. “You know, Mr. Lee, I’m a little curious about your relation with the company—”

“My recommendations won’t help you get promotions faster.”

“Dammit.”

Jaehyun chuckles beside you but a glare from you turns it into a suppressed smile. The one thing that wouldn’t be a waste of time opened its door and closed it right back. 

“But you know how promotions work,” you press, leaning forward.

An alarm rings, so pleasant in tone that you know it’s a Samsung. Unfortunately, it’s the ugly flip model and you question Mr. Lee’s taste (and wealth).

“Oh, look, time’s up,” Mr. Lee announces, and you think you catch a hint of nervousness in his voice. 

Jaehyun springs up before his ears turn red, embarrassed by the gusto with which he himself got up and looks at you expectantly. You get up, sighing.

“Next time, Mr. Lee,” you warn. “I will get those details.”

“I charge by the hour.” He smiles.

“Stop threatening the therapist,” Jaehyun mutters to you, taking your arm and turning to leave.

“Oh, and,” Mr. Lee calls. “It’s always better to be honest than to pretend.”

You blink in surprise when Jaehyun tugs at your arm, bowing in thanks and leaving the room with you.

“Was it just me or did he see through us?” you whisper to Jaehyun.

He shakes his head, whispering back, “There’s no way he could tell. He’s probably referring to something else.”

“Like what?”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer.

“Tell me, are you always so domineering towards strangers even?” he asks. “I just thought you liked to press my buttons because I’m easygoing.”

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not as cool as you think you are, especially since you get so hot and bothered by me.”

“It’s just you,” he whispers earnestly and your pulse rises. “No one else.”

You cough to kill the awkward silence and walk faster to the elevator. Jaehyun follows at a leisurely pace and it’s never occurred to you before but the sound of someone’s footsteps can also be annoying, proof currently standing beside you.

The elevator doors open, and much to your appallment, a young couple happens to be full blown making out inside the elevator, hands where there certainly shouldn’t be in broad daylight. Jaehyun whips his face away, clearing his throat loud enough for the couple to detach themselves from each other and hurriedly exit, fixing their clothes on the way.

“So he wasn’t lying about the success rate,” Jaehyun states quietly, a look of resigned horror on his face.

You can’t even respond for a few moments, following him into the elevator and shaking your head to get rid of the thought that inevitably jams itself inside your head. It might have a point, however.

"Maybe we should kiss too," you think out loud.

Jaehyun stiffens, looking at you with wide, fearful eyes. "No."

"We have to kiss, we're dating!" You exclaim, hands on your hips.

"We're not actually—ah, whatever. It’s not worth bickering with you."

"Why? Afraid you'll fall in love with me?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, and you’re suddenly aware that your bickering keeps drawing you closer to each other, your faces nearer than you’d realized.

"If anything," he starts with a confident smile. "You better not fall in love with me."

"Oh, please. You're taking this way too seriously."

"You're the one that wants to kiss me."

Your cheeks heat up. "You're- I- That's not—argh, fuck you."

Jaehyun looks smug, and you have the unstoppable urge to punch it off his face. You take a deep breath. Violence is not the way, (name).

“If we were a few years younger, you’d be begging for mercy under me,” you seethe.

Jaehyun’s eyes shift over your face in confusion, ears burning bright red with each passing second. Before he can open his mouth, you let out a short yell.

“Not like that, you pervert,” you say, leaning away from him. 

“I didn’t even say anything. On an unrelated note, were you a delinquent in school?”

You roll your eyes. “Kind of. I had a temper and a sharp tongue.”

“And now you’re a people pleaser. That’s quite the development.”

You smack his shoulder. “You’re getting on my nerves, punk.”

He makes an ‘oh’ with his mouth before smiling. “You totally did the delinquent accent.”

“I’m guessing you were the shy, little boy who flushed red at conversations about kissing.”

Jaehyun clears his throat in annoyance. “I was not. I was quite popular in high school and college, you know?”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “It’s that face of yours.”

“Sorry, what? I didn’t catch that.”

“Oh, look, we’re on the first floor.” You exit the elevator, leaving a puzzled Jaehyun to follow in stumbling steps.

“I don’t think Doyoung’s picking us up,” you state. “You take the bus? Or do you have a car to flex? I don’t ride in anything below a Tesla, unless it’s Doyoung because he’s technically my boss.”

“You’ll have to do with good old rented Hyundais,” he answers.

You exhale. Maybe he’s getting used to you. The bus stop is opposite the building, the structure squeaky clean and a bunch of people waiting on the seats. It’s a busy place and you wonder if the scammy-therapist-slash-your-former-ceo’s business has anything to do with that. You sit the first chance you get, shoulders pressed against Jaehyun’s for the lack of space and admiring the passing traffic. Seoul really just depends on the lenses you see through. Work days make the screen tinted grey and blue and you hate them often but some days, it’s good to experience those. Weekends are brighter, sunny and usually not with Jaehyun but he doesn’t really put a damper on them either.

You scan his side profile, a little envious when you realize that his confidence isn’t misplaced. You might have trained yourself to be more of a pleaser over the years but he’s the sort of person people come to like naturally. Moreover, his skin is perfect and his hair is always looking styled even in a mess. Fate and Life are partners in crime when it comes to being unfair.

Jaehyun turns to look at you and you snap your head to your lap, turning on your phone and staring at the homescreen for a good few seconds.

“Twenty questions,” Jaehyun announces. “Let’s play again. I’ll go first. Do you check me out when I walk away?”

“What is this, playing my own cards against me?” You scoff. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“So, yes or no?”

“Sometimes,” you mutter. “But it’s not the good kind of checking out. I’m checking out how terrible you look with your mess of a tie.”

Jaehyun laughs, the sound a hearty rumbling sort and you can’t help but smile back at that. It’s kind of cute when he laughs—the sound of it and the way his cheeks are dusted pink.

“My turn,” you say with a cheeky smile as you lean in to whisper. “Have you ever had a wet dream about me?”

Jaehyun chokes on air, coughing out the surprise as he stares at you dumfound. You stick the tip of your tongue out and throw him a wink, thoroughly enjoying this victory against him. It feels great to fluster someone like Jaehyun.

“No,” he says with clear emphasis. 

“Even the night you said I was so unbearably hot very loudly to Sicheng?”

Jaehyun leans back sighing, covering his face with his hand. “I was tipsy. And it was my first night out with coworkers. Give me a break.”

You giggle. “Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. There were worse incidents that night. An intern threw up on Doyoung’s shoes—I can’t even imagine the horror the poor girl experienced.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, smiling through his hand. 

“Have you ever sent nudes?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

He sighs. “Maybe. Have you?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

He curls his lips. The answer seems to be no but you’re at least seventy percent sure he would be attracted to you in a world where your personality traits weren’t being nosy and annoying.

“Do you think you’re a good kisser?” Jaehyun asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Definitely.”

He scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You cross your arms.

He shrugs, leaning in slightly as though flirting (if he had the audacity). “We could test that.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “What happened to no kissing in the contract?”

“It’s not officially there.”

You roll your eyes, glancing away. “You know, I’m starting to believe you were some sort of desperate fuckboy in college.”

“I- I was the hottest dude on campus and if we went to the same college, you would be pining after me. I literally had the Campus Prince title and girls would follow me to see me in class.”

He crosses his arms, a frown tugging down his lips.

“Ooh, Jung Yoonoh’s getting fired up,” you say in a monotonous voice. “Wonder how many girls you pulled with your chewed up fuckboy dialogue.”

Jaehyun scoffs but he clearly finds your accusations amusing, as hinted by his unbothered smile. He asks a question again.

“What’s more important to you—truth or happiness?” 

The question catches you off-guard. Jaehyun’s eyes are delicately curious, nothing too strong and even so, you find yourself holding your breath under his gaze.

“Huh?”

“Twenty questions. We were playing?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

“Right.” You clear your throat, rubbing the back of your hand. “I… I’d choose happiness, I think. I’m… I’m not sure.”

“Really?” He doesn’t look too hellbent on taking apart your answer so you breathe out. He’s starting to pry into you finally. “I think the truth will make you happier.”

“That’s not- that’s not always true.” You look away, hoping the quietness of your voice ends the conversation there. You don’t know how to talk about it—you never really have. You’ve ugly cried over the lack of your love life to a stranger after five shots of whiskey but you don’t think you can talk about things like this sober. You don’t even know why you answered. Jaehyun makes you feel oddly comfortable.

Jaehyun shrugs, getting up when the next bus halts in front. 

“What did you major in?” you ask, following him.

“Business,” he answers before thinking. “Kind of hated it. But I started out with IT and that was somehow worse.”

You gasp, taking a seat beside him on the bus. “I started with IT too! It was a nightmare. You took that Database Management course?”

Jaehyun smiles. “It was like the course equivalent of reading the back of a Wi-Fi Router.”

You laugh. Maybe he isn’t so different after all. 

“You know, you do look like a business major,” you hum, furrowing your brows as you pretend to scrutinise him.

“So, you’re indirectly saying I either look like a rich kid or a jackass.” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

“They’re both the same thing.”

The laughter from the two of you makes an old woman behind you grunt in displeasure and the two of you apologize. It’s nice to talk like college kids again. The Seoul sunlight shines on Jaehyun’s face and you bite back a smile when his dimples appear. They aren’t all that bad. If you get along like this, there’s no reason to worry about fate and the universe and other superfluous things offered to you on a boring old ceramic plate. It’s a smooth ride.

Your eyes drift to Dongmin’s workspace instinctively and you shake your head. This is exactly why you were avoiding him and even started the entire fake relationship with Jaehyun. You’d choose fake dating a (good-looking) chump from management over embarrassment and possible heartbreak any day.

You groan internally before glancing again and find the desk empty. Surprised, you blink and turn only to scream at Dongmin’s figure behind you.

“Shh!” he says urgently. “Don’t move. And don’t panic when I say this but there’s a bug on your shoulder.”

“What the fuck? Get it off, please,” you say, voice choking up.

Dongmin rolls up a stack of papers and you let out a low screech. “Don’t kill it on my shoulder!”

“Sorry,” he says and your eyes soften as he gently pushes the paper against your shoulder and takes it away. You breathe a sigh of relief and he signs you a thumbs up as he wiggles the paper in the air outside the window. 

“You saved me,” you say, smiling.

He returns it, his most beloved eye smile making you wonder if you made the right choice. Wouldn’t it be fun to just crash everything and watch it burn? You know you want to. Benevolence and grace were never your style. However, it’s his smile again that stops you. Maybe you don’t really want to be the bad guy after all. You’re sparing him from confusion and dread.

You’re sparing yourself from rejection and inevitable loneliness (yay).

It’s been a week, discussing details with Jaehyun before the both of you collectively decided to just wing it and hope you’re not caught. After all, there’s no real way to prove you’re not soulmates if you’re careful enough (the same way you can’t prove someone’s cheating if they’re careful enough but that’s quite a depressing analogy). Perhaps if you renounce the soulmate benefits (and Dongmin didn’t smile as often at you), it would be less morally taxing. You, however, are greedy. When you want something, you’ll do anything to get it.

You stare at the computer screen and sigh, cross checking the employee records for incorrect data and your eyelids start to droop. Of all the days, you just had to be assigned the most boring task on a Friday. You also should’ve gotten sleep instead of getting mad at Jaehyun’s dry responses to your plan of action. It was perfectly viable; unnecessary, but perfect nonetheless.

Soojin rolls her chair backwards into yours. “We’re going drinking tonight. Wanna come? You can bring your boy-toy too.”

You roll your eyes. “As much as I’d love to call him that, he’s still the chump from marketing for me.”

“Or,” Soojin emphasizes. “Your actual soulmate. How lucky is it that you work in the same building, in the same company?”

“I’m not sure if you’re being ironic.” You scroll through the database with trained eyes.

“I’m not. A lot of soulmates don’t even get to see each other because of their line of work. It’s so tragic.”

You’d be glad if you didn’t get to see Dongmin ever too. But you’ll keep that to yourself. You hum in response and hear a sigh from behind you.

“Let’s have fun,” she whines. “Is Jaehyun that much of a downer? He’s one of the hottest dudes in the building. I thought you’d be cheery.”

You pause and think to yourself. She does have a point. You’re definitely supposed to look happier. Your soulmate has the looks of a model and fifteen year old you would fawn over him no doubt.

“It’s the work,” you answer. “I’m working overtime to compensate for my rent.”

You work overtime anyway because you hate heading home to an empty apartment. 

“Ah, you signed a new lease, right? Near Songpa?” Soojin looks at you with pity and pats your shoulder. “You know what? I’ll treat you to drinks tonight. You deserve a day off, missy.”

You smile. “Thanks, Soojin.”

“And,” she adds in a singsong voice. “The love of your life is here.”

You furrow your eyebrows before tilting your head and almost sighing in exasperation at the figure of Jung Yoonoh outside the glass door. He may not show it, but you know distress when you see it. You’ve seen enough squirming undergraduates at company interviews. 

You quickly get up from your seat, praying that he didn’t mess something up. However, you find it cute when he looks like this, the urge to fluster him even more presenting itself to be rather tempting.

“I think you have a sick obsession with me, Jaehyun.” You cross your arms after closing the door behind you.

He exhales, closing his eyes for a moment before taking your arm and pulling you away from the door. 

“Woah, this isn’t high school. You can’t just pull me into a corner to make out.”

Jaehyun’s ears flare hot red and he clears his throat. “You’re in high spirits today.”

You weren’t, actually. Somehow, teasing Jaehyun gives you the same rush as caffeine. You just love when the nonchalance on his face turns into discomposure.

“I came to give Doyoung these files. Or you, since you’re practically his assistant.”

You ignore his comment. “There’s clearly something else.”

“The team sports event is coming up,” Jaehyun starts, hesitating. “I’m not managing it this year. I have to participate.”

“So?”

“So Dongmin has a higher chance of finding us out. What if he sees my mark in the changing room and it all goes to shit?”

“Great! He’ll think you’re his soulmate and I’ll be spared from this nonsense.”

“I’m being serious. It’s already difficult living with Sicheng and having to change with my doors locked. It’s kind of suspicious.”

“Do you guys sleep naked with each other or what?”

“No, but I do sleep with my shirt off.”

“Ugh. Why would you give me that image?” you complain. The image isn’t bad per se but it’s not what you need right now.

“You clearly liked it,” he mutters. 

You furrow your eyebrows. “You’re not doing this just to give me a load of unnecessary anxiety, are you? Do you know how swamped with work I am?”

“No, of course not,” he answers, no indication of which question he answered. “Also, is there a reason Soojin’s glaring at me?”

You wave your hand in dismissal. “It’s just the haven’t-warmed-up-to-coworker’s-new-boyfriend glare. Don’t worry about it.”

He doesn’t seem too relieved but you have more anxious thoughts invading the privacy of your Friday evening. You have to keep up your composure. It could happen one way or another, perhaps in a situation better than a team sports activity, but you have to figure it out. You reject your soulmate anyway—the same way he would.

Glaring at Jaehyun one last time, you get back to your desk. Jaehyun looks at your receding figure and finds himself checking you out, the largest blow he’s taken to his dignity. He shakes his head, breathing in and out. This is so not like him. He’s supposed to be the suave, handsome guy who people can’t seem to get to and yet—yet, you do it so easily. It’s unfair. He swallows his heart and tells himself he’s too old to feel this way. He’ll just drown himself in work and pretend love is a commodity like everyone else with a corporate job is supposed to. 

“You know,” Soojin starts when you get back. “Jaehyun kind of looks high if you look at him long enough. Weed is illegal though but who knows? Maybe he’s a bad boy deep down after all.”

“Which rumour have you been paying attention to now?” You sigh deeply.

Soojin laughs. “It’s funny to hear everyone’s opinions. Even if most of them turn into scandalous tall tales.”

“Anyway,” she continues. “I’m clocking out. I’ll get Jaehyun to take you to the sake bar.”

You look at her, puzzled.

“You’re a matching set now,” she follows up and you groan.

“Don’t give me that cr—”

“Toodle-oo! Let’s have some fun before we’re grey and old, eh?”

You sigh and nod. Maybe you should look into a caffeine fix, even if it costs you a mental power outage at the end of the rush. It’s not like you to be so down on a Friday but alas, Fate is as miserable a woman as you are. The sake bar is starting to sound good.

Or, you could always watch a few ASMR cooking videos instead of staring blankly at the employee records. Either way, this Friday better improve by tonight.

“This is going great,” Soojin says, louder than she probably intended after her fourth shot.

“Of course it is,” you mutter. 

You haven’t yet had a chance to drink more because of two reasons: one) Soojin is hogging the alcohol and two) it would be embarrassing to get drunk in front of Jaehyun. Adding to your misery, Soojin has been gushing over her soulmate and the way she always makes breakfast for Soojin, listing off every single recipe she’s made. You would love to listen but you’re a tiny bit past your limit.

“Wooh, Jaehyun, you look hot,” Soojin whistles, in more of an older sister manner. “I can almost see your tattoo. Why don’t the two of you show us at the same time and we can take a commemorative picture?”

You cough loudly. “Mine’s on my waist, Soojin. I’m not ready to expose skin.”

“Right. Sorry.” She turns back at lightning speed to bother Dongmin with her stories, who smiles at her politely. It seems so genuine that you’re slightly enamored with it for a moment. There’s Jungwoo from marketing beside him, some more HR employees and thankfully, no interns. Doyoung is the only one partly miserable in the lot, talking into the phone for half an hour now. 

“Shit.” Jaehyun nudges you and whispers, “I forgot about the tattoo. This T-shirt makes it very visible.”

You look at him, alarmed. You fix his jacket, startling him, and pull the zipper all the way to his neck, making sure to backhand him on the chin.

“There.”

“It’s hot in here.”

“What do you want me to do about it? God, you’re like a child.”

“I’m like a—okay. Just cover my tattoo with foundation or something.”

“You think I carry around a whole bottle of foundation?”

Jaehyun blinks, deeming it safer to keep his mouth shut. 

“Okay. Fine. I have an idea. Come to the washroom with me.”

“Oh my, this isn’t your making out in the corner type of thing, right?”

You glare at him and he shuts up, following you quietly to the surprisingly clean restroom. The fact that it isn’t gendered makes you very glad. You make Jaehyun sit on the low enough basin counter and push your knee against it to balance yourself as you take out a permanent marker from your bag.

“I hope Doyoung doesn’t fire me for sneaking away,” you mutter angrily. “He didn’t even make me receive his calls all day.”

Jaehyun scoffs lightly. “Please, Doyoung adores you and your work ethic. He talks about it more than what I need to overhear. That and Taeyong’s detailed aquarium maintenance rules.”

“He does?”

Jaehyun clears his throat and you hold back bombing him with more questions till you’re done with painting an arrow into his tattoo.

“Isn’t it weird?” He looks at you with round, curious eyes. “Yours is a heart. Mine’s a pierced heart.”

“Hm. Funny coincidence.”

“Do you have to sit on my lap for this?”

“I’m not sitting on your lap,” you hiss. You are kind of close. You train your eyes on his collarbone as you pull his neckline down. 

It would be so embarrassing to be caught like this. You’d rather be caught making out with someone in the broom closet. You hold back a pained sigh. Jaehyun has some nerve speaking to you when you’re already annoyed with him. Couldn’t he just have worn his business attire? Why does he get to go home early? Taeyong is far too lenient a boss. You start swearing internally, getting nervous when you think about the consequences of your actions.

“Has anyone ever filed a complaint against you?” Jaehyun asks, and you nudge his chin upwards to draw the line on his tattoo.

“For what? Being perfect and successful?”

“For that attitude. The ‘take what I want’ attitude.”

You roll your eyes. “No. You’re saying it like I’m awful to the core for trying to take what I want. I haven’t got such a bad soul, you know, as souls go. You wouldn't write articles about how good a soul it is but… it’s well enough.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow and you avert your gaze from his eyes. This sort of proximity shouldn’t be bothering you, you shouldn’t be rambling.

The door opens right then and in a fit of panic, you do the unthinkable. You press your lips to Jaehyun’s and pray that whoever walked in has no idea who you are and more importantly, can’t see the permanent marker in your hand. 

“I’m so sorry!”

You know that voice. You half regret it when you hear it. Dongmin exits the bathroom as quickly as he entered and you pull away to look at the empty space. Beside you, Jaehyun stays so still that you forget he’s there for a moment. You breathe out in relief though part of you still feels a heavy ounce of regret.

You turn back to Jaehyun and find his doe eyes soft and lost in thought.

“I get it now,” Jaehyun whispers. “It must hurt. That he doesn’t care about the system.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That he’s so reckless about discarding you.”

You separate yourself from him further, standing up and brushing your clothes. “You’re overstepping.”

“Sorry,” he responds quietly. 

There’s a pause.

“Did you just kiss me right now?”

“Shut up. I didn’t want him to see us and especially this.” You wave the marker in front of his face.

“You just kissed me in a fit of panic. That’s the first time I’ve seen someone respond to panic this way.” Jaehyun looks a little too smug.

“What are you implying?” 

“You wanted to kiss me.”

You scoff. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself.” 

You want to knock the smile right off his face but you stick to flicking his forehead, his yell of surprise satisfying. This Friday night was supposed to get better. In fact, you are going to make it better if life won’t. The soju won’t drink itself and you deem that Soojin has had enough. 

Ignoring Dongmin’s confused look, you order far too many soju shots to be considered healthy. As you promised yourself, you are going to make this Friday better.

//

You just had to go and get drunk. Jaehyun stares at you, blinking slowly and wondering just how much you can embarrass yourself before it becomes a burden for him. He has to get you home; you’re practically a matching set now. But are the halves of a pair supposed to take care of the other when they get drunk?

“You know what, guys?” You announce, standing up abruptly and immediately getting pulled back to your seat by Jaehyun. It doesn’t stop your mouth however.

“I hate the stupid system,” you continue. “To tell the truth—”

He smacks his hand over your mouth. Jaehyun has had enough of the silent mini heart attacks you give him. The rest look at him with puzzled looks and he can’t even bring himself to give them a polite smile before dragging you out of the bar. The night breeze is cold enough—maybe it’ll sober you up.

"You're so annoying, Jaehyun," you mutter, massaging your forehead. "Did you know that?"

Or maybe it won’t.

"Never heard that before."

"How do you always keep to yourself and still be the center of attention?" You cling to his arm for balance. 

"Have you considered that maybe a polite man isn't as scheming as you think he is?"

You curl your lips. "Stop using big sentences. I hate that I barely know you, and I know everyone."

Jaehyun purses his lips. "You just enjoy the power that comes with figuring people out. Don't you?"

"Whatever you say. I want life to be a nice and smooth ride but then again, I can't even face my soulmate." You let out an airy laugh. "I didn't really need one though."

Jaehyun laughs in disbelief. "You look like you're dying of loneliness."

"Ooh, that's a big claim, Yoonoh."

"You say I keep to myself but what about you? You like hiding, don't you?"

You laugh. "Is this the part where I say we're nothing alike?"

He purses his lips, shaking his head in dismissal. He's just tired of chit-chat with someone who smells like she robbed a liquor store in Itaewon.

“You must think I’m some sort of selfish, vapid, work-obsessed overachiever,” you continue, tilting your head with a blank look in your eyes.

“Well, not exac—”

“But guess what? Your opinions are invalid, Jung Yoonoh. You’re just some chump from marketing. A very good-looking chump but still.”

Jaehyun swears under his breath as you fling your arms open in the same manner a speech-giving patriot fighting for freedom would. Unfortunately, the freedom struggle is private in this day and age, and you just smacked him in the nose instead.

You sigh deeply and he looks at you again, warily now as he holds his nose.

“You’re not exactly wrong either. I’m so empty. Like a bottle of soju with no soju. Could you bring me some?”

Jaehyun massages his temples and solidifies his resolve. He’s had enough stares from people on the sidewalk. With delicate concern, he holds you up with one arm around your waist, balancing your weight evenly so you can stand. Promptly, you bury your face into his neck and an embarrassing, high-pitched squeak evades the filter of his mouth. You’re just so adept at making his days (and nights) worse.

Jaehyun tries his best to carry you to the parking lot without any signs of struggle but good lord, are you uncooperative. Once he’s down lugging you to the passenger seat, he breathes out in relief at long last and makes sure you don’t fold in over yourself dozing off the seat. Getting you to sit up, he finds himself smiling the slightest bit at your smudged lipstick. Even like this, you’re quite pretty. 

Realizing what thought came over him, he shakes his head vigorously as if he’s committing a horrible crime. He just has to get you home—Soojin had texted him the address prior to the outing just in case—and then he can go back to pretending whatever he even is supposed to.

The sports event is really just HR and Management trying to one-up the other in a more quantitative way. You’re not really fond of the sweat and heavy breathing that comes with physical exertion if it’s for the sake of competition. Competition is such a childish, masculine way of handling things, especially emotions.

HR is leading in wins, however and that means you have something to rub in Jaehyun’s face. You hate participating but you’re not allowed to opt out without a medical certificate. At least one competition, and you had to choose the three-legged race. All these potential partners, and Dongmin had to choose you.

“I’ll win,” you tell Jaehyun, stopping by him once you exit the changing room. The indoor stadium is usually a recreational facility for senior employees but on sports day, it’s closer to a gladiator arena. The seats are green and occupied by grinning employees, most of them glad for a day off but also upset they don’t get to attend their personal affairs in it.

Jaehyun stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Shouldn’t it be a ‘we’? You need a partner. Oh, are you sad you can’t pick me?”

“Not at all.” You cross your arms, annoyed at his mock pity. 

Right then, Dongmin jogs up to you in a blue tracksuit. His hair sticks to his forehead because unlike you, he takes sports very seriously. Jaehyun, on the other hand, just seems to enjoy the competition. As a guilty pleasure, you’d like to see the two of them compete one day. That would be a competition worth betting on.

“I’ll have to borrow your soulmate.” Dongmin laughs. “The race is starting.”

Life strikes again with its poorly timed irony.

“Don’t mind me,” Jaehyun says politely.

The race is easier than you thought it would be considering most of the other employees struggle with teamwork. You’re the HR team for a reason. But then again, you feel a certain hollowness pervade you while you’re pressed to Dongmin’s side. Wouldn’t it be nice?

All you can think is that Dongmin and you are perfectly in sync. The realization comes off as sad despite your victory and the wide grins on both of your faces. 

Jaehyun purses his lips and gives the two of you a nonchalant look. He’s avoided getting caught in the changing room quite well. For some reason, he’s glad that you’re winning but also dissatisfied about it. He would certainly feel different if he were participating in that race, wouldn’t he? He would win. Losing a competition is a huge blow to his ego. Lately, he seems to be losing a lot of races. The two of you have been growing closer and he doesn’t mind late night discussions about flawed systems and childhood memories; but the fact that you’re growing on him is something for him to be on edge about. He’s never felt so close to someone, and still so far.

“Oh, they have good chemistry, don’t they?” Doyoung comments beside Jaehyun, before taking a sip from his bottle.

“What chemistry?” Jaehyun snaps and Doyoung almost chokes on the water.

“Chill out, man.” Doyoung eyes Jaehyun’s figure in concern. “She’s like officially yours.”

Jaehyun refuses in a series of sputtering responses. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not jealous. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I didn’t paint you as that kind of man either,” Doyoung mutters before speaking up. “But love, Jaehyun. Love’s a weird thing.”

Jaehyunn ignores his comment and walks down to the grounds, jogging up to you. He immediately forgets to say anything at all. Smooth move, Yoonoh.

You just stick out your tongue at him subtly.

“I told you we’d win,” you say.

Jaehyun crosses his arms. “Congratulations. I thought you, quote, hate this stupid competition for dunces.”

You clear your throat and Dongmin laughs beside you. Before he can offer his bottle, Jaehyun offers his own in a rush. You raise an eyebrow but don’t question it.

“You guys really are a perfect pair.” Dongmin laughs. “Sometimes I wish Mijoo was my soulmate.”

You give him a pitiful smile. There go your happy feelings of victory.

“But I’m happy this way.” Dongmin nudges your shoulder with his. “Don’t give me that look.”

That is not the look he thinks you were giving. You smile. 

“What about this? We can go on a double date! Those are fun, right?” Dongmin muses, crossing his arms.

“No,” you and Jaehyun refuse in a panic, and Dongmin blinks in confusion at the overwhelming response.

“I'm more of a homebody,” you explain.

“Yeah, me too,” Jaehyun agrees.

It makes Dongmin laugh aloud. “Oh, fate didn’t go wrong with the two of you.”

Your smile wavers. Did it go so wrong with you and Dongmin? Jaehyun’s hand brushes yours and you look at him. A perfect side profile and flushed hot cheeks with dimples to die for. You wouldn’t mind being in love with him. You don’t mind love much at all. 

Shaking off the thought, you watch as Dongmin leaves the two of you to run to the changing rooms. Eyeing Jaehyun’s red team sweatshirt with “Management” in big typography over the chest, you look back up to his face. 

“Why did you jog over here so desperately?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Jealous?”

“Yes. I am irreparably in love with you.”

He leans in quickly and you flinch, making his dimples show up.

“Asshole,” you curse. “I’ll file you for harassment. Don’t do that again.”

“Isn’t it harassment when you feel me up while you draw—” Jaehyun leans in to whisper. “—the soulmark?” 

“I would never have my hands near your greasy existence if I could,” you huff, scandalized. 

But the thing is, Jaehyun is getting better at this game of flustering each other and you don’t like it one bit.

“Hey, you know Dongmin’s girlfriend?” he asks suddenly. 

You nod. “Kind of. I’ve seen her pictures on Instagram.”

Jaehyun pauses before humming in realization.

You cough. “Not that I was stalking them or something. Obviously.”

Jaehyun gives you a knowing smile but doesn’t question anything, much to your aggravation. It would’ve been better if you had a chance to prove you weren’t stalking them but then again, that is exactly what you were doing.

“Well, we went to the same college. Same major too.”

“Are you serious? Wait, how do you know? Does this mean you stalked their Instagram too?”

“Too?”

“Shut up.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“She’s not exactly the evil homewrecker type,” he says.

“I know that,” you snap. If anything, you feel like the evil homewrecker even if Dongmin’s supposed to be your soulmate.

They’re so reckless. Jaehyun was right—you do blame them in a way. They don’t care who they trample under their nauseating parade of romance. But then again, that parade is better than a personal rejection.

“I’m just saying… don't hold it against them.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice, Jung Yoonoh.”

Jaehyun shrugs, dropping the issue. The preparations for the next race is starting and it has something to do with passing balls from basket to basket—you get bored already when you see Doyoung stretch before shaking hands with Taeyong.

“Wanna get ice-cream? We funded the food truck this year.” Jaehyun looks expectantly at you.

“Sure.” 

You contemplate holding his hand for a moment but let that thought bury itself. You don’t have to pretend right now. 

Much to your despair (or delight) however, Jaehyun takes your hand absentmindedly as he walks towards the exit. It’s not that you’ve never held hands before, it’s just that Jaehyun’s skin is soft against yours.

“I can’t believe you and Mijoo were in the same course.”

It seems she’s ahead of you in every direction you look to tread on. Of course, you will not be telling Jaehyun that. You don’t exactly feel jealousy—can’t feel jealousy when your life is perfect as it is. And for Jaehyun? You hate to admit it but you’d trade places with Mijoo any day.

“Well, she didn’t really like socializing back then so I didn’t know we were in the same program either.”

You chuckle, glancing down at your intertwined fingers despite your best efforts. It feels nice like this. It feels nice to be wanted by someone—even if it’s a lie.

“Do you think- Do you think they’re brave?” You ask. “They didn’t even hesitate to disregard the system.”

“I think people in love are always brave.”

You hum, looking down at your feet. All the more reason the system fucked up. You were never even supposed to be partnered up. You’re not brave—the face you put on is. The idea of love seems to get further and further away from you.

Just then, Jaehyun tugs at your hand, walking slightly faster and making you complain as you jog to catch up with his long strides. The food truck is fairly large, on the street outside to the stadium entrance. February is catching up with its heat and you curse at global warming for this hot winter day.

“You can take up to five scoops of different flavours,” he informs you, grinning sheepishly. “I guess the cups aren’t large enough for beyond that.”

“I didn’t know you were this passionate about ice-cream,” you say.

“Sicheng rubbed off on me.”

You laugh. IT must have given Sicheng enough stress to develop a sweet tooth. You love the HR Department when you look at the others in your company.

Jaehyun has a nice smile. You don’t know why you think that but you do and now you can’t focus on anything apart from the pink dust sprinkled over his cheeks and the handsome dimples that accompany. You don’t want to stare but clearly, Jaehyun must have been blessed by some divide being if not for fate. Maybe he’s a mess up like you. As far as you know, his soulmate doesn’t exist. That little red heart is so simple that none of the soulmate designs match it.

A rather repulsing part of you is happy about it. You like the feel of Jaehyun’s hands. You like the way he looks at you. You wouldn’t mind it if he were yours.  

Jaehyun’s house is as cosy as his mother makes you feel. It’s been a while since you’ve been home and if you were perhaps less emotionally constipated, you would have tears welling up in your eyes. There’s quite a few relatives too but then again, every Asian family jumps at the chance to celebrate something as mediocre as engagements and marriage and soulmate findings. Apparently, hormones are perfectly fine to them once you’re not teenagers anymore.

This isn’t so bad. What was so scary about meeting parents again? Jaehyun’s dad did challenge you with a questionnaire but lucky for you, you know exactly how interviews work. You’ve got enough information on Jaehyun from the man himself for this visit. The briefing he gave you was boring though; you already know what you need to know about Jaehyun.

You sit at the table, while most of the other guests work in the kitchen. Jaehyun’s mother asks you questions about your life, friendly and welcoming in every way possible. Mothers are truly god-sent. You wonder how she produced someone as far from divine as Jaehyun. (Except in looks, perhaps.)

You say that out loud and get a sharp quip from Jaehyun, his mother’s eyes lighting up at your childish interaction.

“Oh my, fate is never wrong!” She remarks with a wide smile. “I’ve never seen Jaehyun open up so much with anyone before. He was such a shy boy in school, you know? All the girls would send letters and confessions and he would just turn red in the face.”

“Mom.” He smiles all too sweet at her but you can see the panic in his eyes.

She rolls her eyes before turning to you. “Darling, you have no idea how proud I feel to see him this at ease. I was honestly getting tired of all the ‘your son is so polite and well-mannered’ comments. Some bickering ought to do him good.”

“Mom,” he repeats, straightening. “I think auntie needs some help setting up the table.”

“Don’t shoo me away yet. I have to tell (name) about the time you were elected class representative in middle school. And all those sports and acting awards.”

“You don’t have to advertise me, Mom,” he says, dropping his face into his hands to rub at his eyes, already growing tired. “I’m already- I’m already hers.”

His mother coos and apart from the expected deep red flush on Jaehyun’s skin, you find yourself feeling hot in the face too. Jaehyun’s aunt calls for his mother right then and you watch as she makes her way to the kitchen entrance, the two women glancing at you and giggling to each other over some shared words.

Jaehyun takes the opportunity to grab your hand and walk away to a more obscure part of the house upstairs. With significantly less relatives, it should be a good hiding spot unless discovered by his giggling cousins that he refuses to introduce you to. 

“Aw, what a shy baby,” you coo, smiling at the thought of a younger, easily-flustered Jaehyun.

His ears are bright red and you think that he’s still easily flustered. He just doesn’t show it much anymore—there’s only one dead giveaway.

“Forget everything my mom said,” he instructs. “It’s not important information.”

“Oh, no, darling. Your mother is a gold mine of vital information. You know what? I’m going to go chat her up right now. I’m sure you were quite the teenage dream I should know about.”

Jaehyun grips your wrist before you can escape, pulling your closer.

“Don’t.”

You don’t know if it’s the proximity or the fact that there are most definitely a few family members that could walk in right now—but you find yourself embarrassed as you look at his face. It’s very pleasant, handsome even, and the strands of his hair look irresistibly soft from this distance. You reach your hand out and brush the hair out of his eyes, almost instinctively. 

“You have nice eyes, Jaehyun,” you say out loud, not sure why. He doesn’t fluster this time but it makes you all the more aware of your nearness.

Your eyes glance at the bottom of the staircase to see a little girl, around nine, hiding from behind the wall that separates the dining room and the kitchen. You return your gaze to Jaehyun with a smirk.

"We should kiss right now. Your little cousin's watching."

Jaehyun looks mildly disgusted. "Why would I want to kiss you in front of my cousin?"

You roll your eyes. “You don't get it, do you? The fastest way to convince a family is through rumours.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "So?"

"Oh my god, you're an idiot. Nosy cousins are the most effective way to spread rumours."

"Ah." Jaehyun looks enlightened enough for you to continue.

"Okay, but first you need to have these mints." You take out the emergency mints from your purse.

"What? I don't need mints. I have nice smelling breath.”

"Everyone needs mints, Jaehyun. Especially men."

Jaehyun sighs heavily. You take the opportunity to grab his wrist and pull him into a corner. 

"Have this mint or else."

You hold his face between your thumb and forefingers, cheeks squishing under the pressure as you force a mint in. He lets you do it for some reason, looking lost as he gazes at you. 

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh my, you're enjoying this. Pervert."

"Wha—what? You have to stop thinking you're hot shit, oh my god. I just got distracted for a bit."

"By me, right?"

"No! I just zoned ou—you're enjoying this."

You bite down your smile but a giggle escapes you anyway. Jaehyun rolls his eyes though he smiles, looking far too close to irresistible when his dimples show.

"You can't keep teasing me," he says, voice low.

"I've been doing it for two years. I'm pretty sure I can do it for at least two more."

Jaehyun scoffs, laughing at your statement. "You know what? I'm going to get back at you from now on. I've been so lenient."

You snort before pressing the back of your fingers to your nose. "You? You're going to get back at me? You’re good at lip service, Jaehyun."

“Huh. You might be right about that.”

There's a beat of silence and you look at him expectantly. In the next beat of your heart (or lack thereof), he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours, surprising the life out of you as your back hits the wall. It's not just a touch either, his mouth moves over yours and when your knees feel weak, you reluctantly admit that the rumour about Jung Yoonoh being a good kisser is true. Maybe his body count isn't a lower-end single digit after all.

He pulls apart with a short smile tugging at his lips. "Satisfied?"

You sputter out a response before clearing your throat. “I- I don’t think anyone really saw us in this corner.”

Jaehyun makes a low humming sound. “Or you could just say you want me to kiss you again? I know I’m a good kisser.”

“Fuck off.” You punch his chest, eliciting a quiet grunt from him.

You move away from him, peeking from behind the wall. Oh, she saw it alright. The giggling gives it away and the fact that a few more younger cousins have gathered. This is ridiculous. The fact that you wouldn’t mind more is even worse.

You turn back to Jaehyun with steel-set eyes. “No more kissing. Ever. Never again. Kissing is officially banned.”

Jaehyun looks perplexed. “I thought that was a good kiss. Did you not enjoy it? What do you mean no kissing?”

“And I take it back.” The heat on your face is still burning steadily. 

“Oh, I see. You liked it so much that you’re embarrassed.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“So I’m right?”

You roll your eyes and quickly walk down the stairs, a few words of complaint left hanging in the air as Jaehyun follows behind, stumbling over the steps.

Jaehyun likes how comfortable this is. He doesn’t mind glaring daggers at each other but this is fun too. It’s like he doesn’t have to be careful about the lines he might be crossing—there aren’t any damn lines at all. He can’t call it love, at least not by definition, but something is there. Something that is solid enough and heavy enough. Something he would be ready to hold on to.

You laugh at a joke Jaehyun’s dad makes. A family is the only place to feel at home. It might not be yours but maybe at the end of the night, you can convince them to disown Jaehyun and adopt you as their child instead. His cousins seem to be interested in the same things you were as a high schooler and it surprised you. Your job lets you advise the older cousins in a fairly friendly fashion. The little ones seem to like your dress and you find them far too adorable with their pink cheeks and dimples, much like Jaehyun’s. Speaking of which, he definitely got them from his dad. You look around and wonder how Jaehyun has so many female cousins and not an inkling about how women work. 

It doesn’t hurt anymore that Dongmin discarded you so recklessly.

He’s wrong. Jaehyun’s wrong. It doesn’t hurt—didn’t hurt right now at the very least. When Jaehyun kissed you, you didn’t think of Dongmin or his girlfriend or anyone else. You thought that Jaehyun’s skin is somehow always the right temperature. 

You shake your head. Jaehyun drives your getaway car and you shouldn’t get too comfortable in its worn-out leather seats. This shouldn’t be any different to you; you aren’t supposed to find love in every corner. This was all a survival instinct. 

The more stories Jaehyun’s mother shares with you over dinner, the more you find it comfortable to be here. You don’t feel this welcome in your own apartment (although, there isn’t exactly anyone else living there but you and the goddamn pigeon that wakes you up at six in the morning). The more the night progresses, the more you want to believe in this lie. Jaehyun glances at you from time to time, his gaze neither uncomfortable nor harsh and you smile at him when he does. Right now, there is no loneliness and the air is warm and smells of freshly cooked food; the way familial love works is such a mystery. You feel content.

“Why are we doing this again?” you lean in and ask Jaehyun, eyes focused on the TV as he tries to fix it.

“Because I need to get out of work, and fulfilled soulmates get a day off on Valentine’s day.”

You nod. “Your apartment kind of stinks. I feel sorry for Sicheng.”

“This is clean,” he defends, pointing at the lack of any visible mess in his room. His work table, however, has too many items scattered over it to be called neat. There’s a fairly large TV attached to the wall and you’re a little jealous about it. You only ever watch shows on your (quite beloved albeit small) laptop. The blinds aren’t fully closed, the evening city lights trying their best to pry their pervasive fingers in and add something more to the peach hue of Jaehyun’s room.

The doorbell rings just in estimated time for food delivery, a sigh leaving your mouth along with a ‘finally’. His place is strangely comfortable and much less of the war zone that you expected. There’s no reason to feel awkward, really, or even the bubbling in your stomach. You’re not seventeen, in your crush’s house. Jaehyun isn’t even someone you like that way.

It’s just two friends hanging out and watching a movie and doing other friendly activities. Two friends hanging out on Valentine's day. Two friends who have kissed more than once.

What do lovers do anyway?

This thing with Jaehyun has turned into clandestine smiles at the office building, subtle texts of ‘did you eat?’ and ‘good morning, idiot’, racing hearts at brushing hands on the occasional off-work hangouts (you refuse to call them “dates”) and overall, a lot more pink hearts floating over his head when you see him. It’s positively appalling. 

You don’t mind it one bit.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” The delivery man wishes as he leaves and you feel a sudden rage bubble up in you. 

“Ah, does he think every couple celebrates Valentine’s day? And just because we’re in the same apartment means we’re a couple? Wow.” You cross your arms, scoffing. “Who’s he to wish me?”

“Why… Why are you getting mad?” Jaehyun asks quietly, slightly confused.

You glare at him, your anger not quite dissipated and walk back into his room, placing the box of confectionaries on the bedside table with a loud thud. Jaehyun follows, placing the drinks rather clumsily beside it. He gives you one last look of concern before settling down on his bed.

You let out another huff of complaint.

"Does everything have to be heart-shaped?"

You stare at the nauseating display of baked goods delivered in a pretty heart-shaped box. The brownie is in a clear plastic box that has a tiny bouquet of hearts atop it, the coffee cups have heart stickers around the rim, and the pastry itself is heart-shaped or rather, two halves of a heart. One of them is strawberry pink and the other chocolate brown.

“You seem… suddenly fired up,” Jaehyun comments quietly.

You don’t really care if you look crazy to him right now; he’s already seen the worse parts of you. You’re just so annoyed at all this red and pink that was delivered. Aren’t cafes supposed to stick with that beige-cream palette? 

While you contemplate, Jaehyun tears the little sugar packet and attempts to open the lid of the cup at the same time, your blood pressure rising at the sight because you were half sure he’d spill the drink. After much difficulty, he shakes the packet trying to get just enough sugar but of course, like the clumsy oaf he is, he misses almost entirely, spilling sugar over his coffee table. It’s oddly endearing but that’s a thought you’ll keep to yourself.

He turns to you with a sheepish grin and you give him a look of distaste.

“You are a sorry excuse of a person, Jaehyun.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t mess this up.”

You turn to look him in the eyes, the honey shade alluring under warm apartment lights. They really are pretty. 

“I, and every other sane human being, would not mess up adding sugar to a cup of coffee.”

“You faltered for a moment there.”

That was not the reason you faltered. You roll your eyes and look away, taking a sip of your drink and sighing at the taste.

“How do you even like Americanos? Don’t you like a bit of cream and sweetness?”

 “I don’t really care for bitterness,” he answers.

“Wow, you must be a masochist.”

“And it’s quite obvious you’re a sadist.”

You snicker. “That makes us quite the pair.”

“I would like that sentence in a non-BDSM context, thank you.”

Jaehyun turns on the TV and the Netflix logo animation pops up. You raise an eyebrow at his ‘Continue Watching’ list, eyeing Bridegerton and Sweet Home, and wondering if he could be any more of an enigma. You can’t possibly figure him out at this point. You groan when he picks a title.

“Ugh. Do we have to watch a romantic comedy?”

“What? They’re funny. And I thought you liked those 2000’s movies.”

You believed in unicorns and sock goblins and love back then too. These days, you hate to see other people in love, especially when it’s fake. The movies you loved are now the movies you hate. The couples you eyed with delight at parks and cafes are now the bane of your existence. In fact, you’d go as far as to say that you enjoy the digital fireworks from a couple having a massive online breakup. Things falling apart are entertaining when it’s not happening to you.

You purse your lips. Can't you see other people happy without wanting to tear it down for yourself?

“Fine. But I’ll pick the 2000’s romcom.”

Jaehyun shrugs and hands over the remote. You see Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds on the poster and click on it immediately. The Proposal has a good enough comedy to romance ratio, in your opinion.

“I’m kind of surprised you came,” he says quietly.

“Why?” You raise an eyebrow. “Is it because of the suggestive nature of visiting someone’s apartment on Valentine’s day? Did you think we’d be doing something… more fun?”

You lean in and bat your eyelashes suggestively, although you’re clearly joking.

“I think you should know better than to get mouthy with me,” he answers as he leans in further, making your heartbeat hike at the proximity. Maybe he’s figured you out. Wouldn’t it be so nice to figure each other out at the same time—like puzzle pieces fitting together?

You move away from him. “Well, it’s not like I can go anywhere else. And I didn’t want to stay in my own apartment.”

“Maybe you enjoy my company?”

“Look, I would be sipping my coffee at a perfectly aesthetic cafe if it weren’t Valentine’s day.”

He raises an eyebrow at your nonsensical declaration and you sigh, trying to explain yourself.

“Cafes just terrorize the single folk on Valentine’s day. You should always go with Netflix,” you say.

“And chill?”

“Do you even know what that means?”

“As I’ve told you so many times, I am not stupid.”

You inhale, an idea presenting itself.  

“Hey, since we’re technically a couple, shouldn’t you be sharing your Netflix password with me?” you ask, pressing your lips into your cutest smile.

“No.”

“You’re so stingy,” you mutter. It was worth a shot.

Jaehyun laughs, your hand reaching out to poke his dimples but you stop yourself. You weren’t supposed to get this comfortable. This wasn’t your place to be. Lost in thought, the moving screen leaves you unfazed and you can’t look at him anymore. However, Jaehyun reaches out right then and wipes at the space beside your lips, your focus lifting from the beginning scenes of The Proposal and latching onto Jaehyun’s lips.

There’s a pause, your head clearing itself of thoughts when you make eye contact with him. Soft hair, doe eyes, full lips and dimples—he’s so damn attractive, it hurts your existence. Does he have to be this close to you? You have mixed feelings about that look in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers suddenly.

“Yes,” you answer.

If you look from a rational point of view, you should not have said that. You should have said anything but that. But you don’t want to think right now. Jaehyun’s touch is warm over your skin as his hand rests under your jaw and the other on your waist.

You should not have said that. But you feel loved.

Somewhere along, you find yourself parting only to kiss again, the feeling of skin so delightful in a way you’ve never experienced. Your shirt hikes up and you see Jaehyun eye the little heart with the arrow—the sign you so despised with a gentle smile.

“It’s pretty,” he whispers.

It’s pretty but it isn’t his. He doesn’t have to look at you like that—he’s come a long way from nervous glances and now he’s the one making you nervous. Just say it isn’t love and it will be alright.

You part, sobering up for a moment and you disentangle your limbs to sit at the side of his bed.

“What’s- What’s wrong?” Jaehyun whispers.

You exhale.

“All my life, I wait and when it comes, it’s all wrong,” you say, staring at your lap. Self-pity is the most disgusting kind of pity to feel. You’re past crying at things like this. You’re past crying for an ounce of romance, every time you listen to a love song on the radio or look at an Instagram post of a couple or pass by lovers on the sidewalk content with each other. You don’t even have cats to return home to. Modern loneliness is wearing you down but you can’t believe in fairytales anymore.

He scoffs, smiling bitterly. “I don’t even know if this is worth losing my dignity over.”

“Jaehyun—”

“We can’t pretend anymore—I can’t pretend anymore,” Jaehyun exhales. “I want you enough to forget the system. Give me an answer. Please.”

You don’t mind forgetting the system right now. Jaehyun’s lips are always the right temperature; the warmth of his body seeps through his shirt as you press yourself to him in a hug. He’s perfect and right now, you want to believe he’s perfect for you—even if he isn’t, you want to believe it into existence.

You cup Jaehyun’s cheeks, unsaid emotion in his doe eyes, and kiss him. This time, you mean it with every ounce of your being. There’s no more flustering each other, just the hot flush of intimacy when you feel skin that doesn’t burn you. It’s just the right feeling. There’s no way this can be wrong. 

Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? You wish the voice would pipe down. It’s a coward, fearing fate just as everyone else does. But you are better than that, and this feeling is too enjoyable to let go. You don’t want this to fade.

Just then, Dongmin’s face comes to mind and you think that maybe if you kiss someone else with all you have, you don’t have to think of your shortcomings ever again.

Jaehyun pulls apart and you miss the warmth.

“You’re not… You’re not thinking of me, are you?” he asks. 

You don’t answer, even if the silence is overwhelming.

“I’d rather not have you close your eyes and think of someone else when I’m in front of you.”

“I’m sorry” is all you can say.

“You can at least pretend to love me.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. “Could. It’s not like this was ever supposed to work out.”

You gulp, looking away. “Jaehyun, come on. That’s not like you. We were- we were just… having fun.”

He takes a deep breath. “It hurts to not be wanted by someone you want. You know that. So why are you doing this to me?”

Because misery likes company.

“I’m sorry.”

It seems the phrase you barely uttered when you were younger is tumbling out of your lips in a mixture of grief and pity. Perhaps it’s karma. Perhaps it’s fate. Perhaps it’s just the consequences of your mistakes.

Jaehyun parts his lips, a sigh departing. He leans in again, pushing away all of his thoughts. A little more hurt won't kill him tonight. How and when did you bring him down to his knees?

However, he's stopped by your hands against his shoulders, his lips hovering over yours.

"Let's stop," you say. "You're right."

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

“I don’t- I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”

You wish you could be brave enough to burn the instruction pamphlet from destiny. But right now, you need to get away from Jaehyun, away from any more misery business.

“I’ll get going,” you say, gathering your stuff. 

Jaehyun hesitates but doesn’t stop you. He would never stop you, can’t stop so how could he even dream of stopping fate? This can never work out. It felt right in the moment but you don’t know anything more than that. You can’t close your eyes and pray everything disappears. No one else will solve your problems for you, you know that.

It’s time you start fixing the mess you made. You leave with a polite goodbye and hear a loud sigh behind you once the door is closed. Blinking away the urge to walk back in, you take long and quick strides to the elevator. You’re going to fix this.

Maybe if Lady Gaga’s ‘Poker Face’ wasn’t blasting at full volume at this stupid office party, you could be thinking a little straighter.

He was right. You can’t pretend anymore. There were thousands of ways this could have gone better. You didn’t have to pretend to be soulmates when you’re not. You could’ve discarded your belief in the whole system like Dongmin and Mijoo and dated someone out of spite. You didn’t have to drag Jaehyun into your sorry mess. You need to take out the nail you hammered into your own foot.

It’s the first time you’ve visited the rooftop restaurant from the company’s subsidiary chain of high-end restaurants but you imagined it would be bigger. It’s the news’ fault for making this place seem like a football field. However, you might be feeling that way because the distance between you and Jaehyun is suffocatingly small as is the distance with Dongmin. You don’t need to see Jaehyun tonight.

You don’t intend to make your confession a public affair and you certainly don’t believe in tack things like atonement. However, improvement begins with a step in the right direction. Maybe you’ll be a better person after this. Maybe you’ll still be as annoying and pushy as ever. You need to get it off your chest so you can proceed with the already tedious journey that comes with a soulmate rejection. You wonder why there’s so many man-made laws about soulmates when fate has made it complicated enough as it is. Love is the same as legalese when it comes to this system.

You flit about the crowds, smiling and greeting people and swerving away from Jaehyun every time he tries to approach you. You’re trying to make a good decision for once. He better not intrude. You’re wearing pink too, for the first time in a while: a satin shirt, pants and blazer set in dull pink.

“Dongmin,” you say, pulling him by the sleeve of his blue tux, and away from the rest of the HR team. “I have to show you something.”

“Hm? Show me?” He blinks at you. 

You get him to follow you to the inside the premises, stopping when you’re far into a 

“Uh?” Dongmin looks around before leaning in to whisper. “You’re not plotting to murder me, are you?”

You blink, and he laughs at you incredulously. “Why are you so serious?”

“I was lying,” you rush. “With Jaehyun. He’s not my soulmate. You are.”

Dongmin blinks in confusion. “Are… you joking? That was a weird joke but it could pass as funny—”

“Dongmin.”

You pull out your shirt from your pants, exposing the tattoo on your hip. It’s the little arrowed heart that has been plaguing you for years but now when you look at it, you feel no animosity. After all, it’s been through the same things you have. 

Dongmin’s face falls into stunned silence, eyes fixated on your waist.

“That’s- That’s my—what is this?”

Russian roulette is certainly not the same without a gun.

“I lied, Dongmin,” you answer, fixing your shirt back in. “I was so afraid of your rejection that I made an even larger fool of myself.”

His initial shock seems to have partly subsided.

“You… Why didn’t you tell me?” He looks momentarily hurt.

“You have Mijoo, Dongmin. I can’t ruin something like that.”

A love that doesn’t need fate to fix it.

Dongmin glances away in guilt and sighs, though the sound is croaky. This must be more than what he can take.

“I’m sorry,” he says, haltingly. “I hurt you, didn’t I? When I thought I was being brave, I hurt you instead.”

You smile bitterly. “We all hurt someone, Dongmin. I still have to fix that one for myself.”

He scans your face, lips trembling slightly as unspoken words die on them.

“We’ll tend to the legal stuff later, hm? No compensation. We can file a mutual rejection.”

“But—”

“Shh. I’m happy enough as coworkers and I get paid more than enough for this job. Might get a promotion soon too.”

You wink at him with an added finger gun, trying to play it cool. Despite everything, a weight feels lifted from your shoulders. Now that you are truly alone, you might as well embrace this growing loneliness crawling under your skin. Discomfort could be something you can get used to. 

When you get back to the warmly lit rooftop, the HR team looks at you curiously. You have the most self-destructive thought you’ve had in a while and tell yourself, you might as well if you've come this far. This is it. This is your social death. Honesty is the best policy, unfortunately.

“Dongmin and I have the same soulmate mark,” you announce. “We’re soulmates but we’ll sign a mutual rejection.”

Doyoung looks almost like he’ll faint and Soojin’s mouth is so wide open, you could practice throwing some mini basketballs in. This is your team—almost a second family, and it’s time you stop trying to hide yourself or disguise your feelings as something they’re not. They’ll get over it, as will you.

“J-Jaehyun?” Soojin looks to your side and you turn to find Jaehyun frowning.

“You could’ve discussed this with me,” he says, an odd sound of relief in his laugh. 

It hurts to look at him but you muster up your strength.

“I’m sorry,” you say, facing him. “I didn’t want to drag you into this hell with me.”

Into this loveless hell made for you.

“(name).”

It’s so painfully quiet in this corner; there are so many eyes on you and only the hurt taking shape in Jaehyun’s eyes knock some sense into you. 

“I’ll leave first,” you say, bowing as you take your leave.

You brisk up your pace and exit the venue as quickly as you can and into the building corridor.

Unfortunately for you, you recognize the pair of footsteps that follow you—both of them having their timings wrong. Boys don’t chase after the girl when she’s walking away. Boys should leave a girl alone when she feels like she’s about to cry.

You turn to face two men and groan internally. This is the worst possible situation—you’d rather crawl into a hole than look at either of them. The corporate light shines harshly on either of their faces but the look on them is so earnest, you want to close your eyes and scream. You don’t mind being alone. You were overstepping when you wished you weren’t.

“(name),” Dongmin starts. “I’m sorry it turned out this way. If you’d told me, we could have talked this out.”

A light scoff leaves Jaehyun and Dongmin purses his lips. It’s kind of funny watching both of their tall frames in hesitant postures and you cross your arms. You’re going to deal with this quickly like you always should have. If you’re dealing with fate, you need to have a clear head—and fortune doesn’t favour fools. Being with Jaehyun was nice but he is not yours. Dongmin may have been assigned to you but you’d rather not ruin someone’s relationship.

“What would we have talked about?” you ask. “Compensation charges? Apologies?”

You see a hint of positivity on Jaehyun’s face and turn to face him, frowning.

“And you. Don’t look so smug. You’re the reason I realized this crap. It hurts. Like hell.”

He opens his mouth but no words come when he’s far too taken aback. He can’t offer consolation now, not after everything. You knew this would happen. You would undoubtedly end up wishing you didn’t fall in love with him on the day you leave.

“(name). Listen to me,” Dongmin calls again, voice gentle.

Jaehyun sighs. “We’re both fucking this up, dude.”

Dongmin takes a sharp breath.

“You know, soulmates can be platonic,” he reasons, looking only at you. “People are made for each other differently and maybe you and I—”

“You’re just making her feel worse,” Jaehyun cuts him off.

“How do you know that?” Dongmin asks, finally turning to him. “Because you’ve spent a month or two with her? I’m her soulmate.”

“I think a month or two is much better than a stranger with the same damn birthmark.”

“Oh come on,” Dongmin scoffs. “The system exists for a reason.”

“I don’t give a shit about the system. The same as your girlfriend—oh, sorry, did you forget about her already?”

“It’s not like that.” Dongmin quietens. “We’ll figure something out.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. They’re worse than you are—honestly, you don’t know what you expected from the timid emotional maturity of men. Both of their polite facades have melted and you’re starting to miss their sweet-tempered work demeanour.

“Come with me,” Dongmin tells you.

He wraps his hand around your wrist and tugs, Jaehyun visibly tensing up at the gesture. He presses his tongue against his cheek in annoyance but refrains from doing anything rash. You feel sorry when you look at him.

“Dongmin,” you whisper. “Can we- can we have a moment?”

Dongmin nods in understanding and exits the hallway to cool off with a few splashes of water in the washroom.

“Would you go with him?” Jaehyun asks, jaw clenched. “An acquaintance as most? Are you willing to run into the arms of fate that you hated so much?”

He looks bitter and you can’t think of a sugar-coated response. You’ll just have to tell him how you feel.

“I need to sort things out, Jaehyun. This—”

You point from him to yourself.

“Couldn’t work out thanks to fate. Dongmin and I will never work out because he’s braver than I am. You know he’s doing all of that just so I don’t get hurt, right? He’s not suddenly in love with me.”

Jaehyun purses his lips, looking down to his feet. Is it so bad that he let jealousy get the best of his mouth? Envy isn’t so awful. He looks from your eyes to lips and wishes he were young enough to believe in fairytales.

“You don’t have to be brave,” he whispers. “You don’t have to be so brave to fall in love. You don’t have to be brave to stay with me.”

“We tried, Jaehyun. And we can’t cheat fate. That, at the very least, requires bravery.” 

You press your lips into a thin line. It hurts. It hurts so bad to look at him and face the consequences of this flawed design. It’s unfair. It’s unfair that you have to follow the rules even after trying your best to break them. 

“You wish you never met me, don’t you?” you whisper. “I made a mess.”

Before he responds, you bow in a short goodbye and walk towards the elevator. There’s no footsteps behind you, no Prince Charming. It’s just you and your high heels clacking against the cold marble as you head back to an empty home. You always thought freedom would feel different, that distance would give you perspective. It just feels awful when no one is around you at all. When you have no one to pick up morning calls from, receive texts from asking if you ate, spend time in peace without uttering a single word—are you free or are you lonely?

The rules state that the two of you are different. It is true. You are as different as love in real life and love in the movies; and neither of them have happy endings now.

You wish you drank some more last night if you were going to embarrass yourself like that. Thankfully, it’s the weekend and you have two more days to figure out how to face your coworkers. You frown when you think of Jaehyun. Were you wrong to tell him that you simply couldn’t choose him? What if fate is right and it falls apart? You stir your morning coffee, the will to drink it fading slowly. It’s already fallen apart—and it wasn’t fate who did that, it was you. Should you have taken his stupidly warm hands and asked him to follow you? You don’t understand how it works at all.

Centuries of questioning what love is, poking and prodding at it like a lab sample, and there’s still no perfect answer. Love is blind. Love is cruel. Love is a fever. Love is temporary insanity. Love is acceptance. Love will set you free. There’s just too many variations. You can never tell if fate is meant to make it easier or worse. 

No one questions you at the office and you're not sure if you’re glad or aggravated. Only Doyoung shoots you a pitiful look which you brush off and immediately get into work. Embarrassment is only real if you acknowledge it. However, every time Dongmin tries to talk to you, you ask for space and even alone in your thoughts, you don’t get it. They just have to drift to Jaehyun.

You wonder if what he said was true, that he wanted you enough to forget the system. It’s clearly ruined now. The spiral of thinking has you zoning out during work more often than not and even Doyoung ends up reprimanding you for your lack of focus. Sometimes you want to snap but other times, you’re just hopelessly reciting the events over and over in your head. This was supposed to happen, wasn’t it? You don’t even have the strength left in you to blame it all on Jaehyun.

You pace in the corridors after work, contemplating popping by the Marketing Department. What could go wrong? Sure, it was a little dramatic of you to leave like that but everything can be fixed, right? You groan. What you were supposed to be fixing, you made worse. Are your hands cursed or something? You shake your head, returning to your desk to gather your belongings and head home.

Unfortunately, the sight of Doyoung sitting in your chair alarms you and you stop a foot away. 

“If you’re going to reprimand me for watching cat videos instead of checking the employee records, I can assure you my efficiency is still top-notch.” 

“You’re—what? Never mind.” Doyoung shakes his head. “Can you give this ginseng pack to Jaehyun? I owe him.” 

Oh no. You know where this is going.

“You know I’m going to keep that for myself, right?” You make a face. “I’d rather die than face Jaehyun right now.”

Doyoung shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll be the one running to you. This is in case of an emergency.”

You give him a fake smile and Doyoung shakes his head. “Good to see you’re still great at pretending to be fine.”

You sigh. “Thanks for looking out for me, bossman.”

Doyoung blinks, hand covering his mouth when an audible gasp leaves him. “Woah. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you thank me. But don’t call me bossman ever again.”

“Noted,” you say, taking your bag and leaving with a short goodbye. You’re lucky he lets you off work early, even if you never took it. Employees usually can’t leave until their superiors does and if you were a senior employee, you’d be giving your juniors quite the hell.

You seem to be good at concocting hellscapes. Perhaps, you should look for job openings in the underworld. One last thought of Jaehyun exits your head and you take the bus home, admiring the city you live in and the warmth of people and their relationships. You don’t feel jealous; you just bask in them for the time—be it a mother and her son or two bickering sisters or a lovely old couple. That’s how it’s meant to be, then. That’s how love works.

Jaehyun smacks his head against the sofa armrest for the fifteenth time in a row.

“Dude. You’re going to permanently ruin the fabric.” Sicheng says, eyes trained on his laptop screen.

“I should’ve said something more.” Jaehyun’s voice is so zombie-like, he thinks he should cast himself in the Train to Busan sequel as an extra.

“I’m glad I’m not you,” Sicheng mutters.

“Can you give me some sort of consolation, at least?”

“That’s not what I’m your friend for.”

Jaehyun sighs and resumes smacking the back of his head against the armrest. He really needs to figure this out. After all, he can’t really Google the solution to this.

“One thing doesn’t make sense,” Sicheng says, finally looking up from his screen. “Why do you have the same mark as (name)’s if you’re not soulmates?”

“You’re so incredibly—but adorably—stupid, Sicheng. She drew it in with a permanent marker. She kissed me too! It was sudden and weird but I didn’t mind it.

“Yikes.” Sicheng makes a face. “So… you didn’t take a shower for how long now?”

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“The ink hasn’t washed off. I heard you singing in the shower yesterday, how could you not have washed that off? Ugh. Don’t tell me you miss her.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen as he jumps up and rushes to the washroom. Looking into the mirror, the tattoo poking out from his T-shirt resembles yours a lot more than his. The arrow is still drawn in. Jaehyun’s shoulder slumps. He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Turning the tap and letting the water flow, he wets his hand and rubs at his collarbone to remove the arrow.

Except it doesn’t budge. His skin turns painfully red from the rubbing but the ink, which usually washes off in less than five minutes has no intention of leaving. Did you use a different brand of marker the last time? When was it anyway? 

Jaehyun breathes out, firming his resolve. He needs to be with you.

Sicheng blinks in surprise as Jaehyun grabs his car keys, not even bothering to change from an all-black getup of a T-shirt and jeans like some emo teenager, and shuts the front door behind him. Not even a ‘goodbye, I’m leaving!’

Sicheng sighs. Love makes people crazy. He’s not falling into that trap when his soulmate literally doesn’t exist, the same as his soulmark. It seems the contestants in this game are full of exceptions.

You hit your head against your pillow. To visit Jaehyun or not to. You haven’t left your bed since you woke up around seven in the morning, and now it’s ten. Your bedsheets are a mess because you’ve rolled around too much on them (in despair, not with someone unfortunately).

You need the quiet sometimes to let your mind rest, to let your heart rest. You needed time. But maybe it’s been long enough and now you’re just searching for excuses to hold on to your last shred of dignity.

You lift your head up and glare at the box of ginseng on your table. Should you? You reluctantly get up, feeling a sting of pain in your back for lying in that awkward position for so long. Right when you’ve put on your slippers, the doorbell rings and you groan. How did the package you stress-ordered last night arrive so early? These deliveries are getting faster and faster.

You walk to the front door and open it thoughtlessly, freezing up at the sight. Your first reaction is to cover yourself. You’re not exactly your best-looking version at the moment. Jaehyun’s dark circles almost match yours but he’s better dressed than you are—in a black T-shirt and jeans while you’re wearing a Gudetama pajama set.

“We’re not just friends,” he blurts. “We’re not soulmates but we’re not just friends.”

“Huh? Oh my god, this is the most embarrassing I’ve looked.”

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows in a question look. 

“That’s not important! Look—”

He pushes you inside, closing the door behind him. His hair is so disheveled and messy, he barely even looks like the same well-maintained marketing employee you know. 

Jaehyun tugs at his T-shirt, pulling down to reveal his tattoo—albeit with your marker-drawn arrow through it. He does have a pretty well-built chest, you note before chiding yourself for getting distracted.

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you, uh, need help scrubbing it off or something?”

“No.” Jaehyun lets out a huff of exasperation. “It won’t wash off. If it’s what I think it is—”

“Miracles don’t happen to people like us, Jaehyun,” you say quietly.

He gulps. “I don’t know about miracles but… I just needed an excuse to see you, I guess.”

You look up, a rose blush over Jaehyun’s bare face, and run your finger over the tattoo, sighing at the warmth of his skin. Your hand travels up to his cheek, resting atop it while you muster enough courage to look Jaehyun in his chocolate brown eyes.

You pull away. This isn’t the time. You still have an internal crisis to sort out. Are you even deserving of love? It makes much more sense if the answer is no. 

However, Jaehyun pulls you in by the waist, his right palm warm against your cheek.

“I don’t care what anyone says.” He runs his thumb over your cheek in a painfully fond manner. “You’re worth more than the price I pay for this.”

He leans in and presses his lips to yours swiftly, your head clearing of thoughts almost immediately. It feels so right, you can feel the spark, the red thread around your skin, hear the bells. This kiss was far more perfect than it was supposed to be.

You part, gasping. Jaehyun blinks at you, breathing heavily.

“Kiss me again.”

Jaehyun does as told and you might just believe in miracles this way. With his hand around your waist and in your hair, his lips over yours and the low rumbling laughter that parts the two of you—you might just believe in miracles. You might just believe that love isn't something you deserve by earning.

“I like this,” Jaehyun comments. “I like the way this is.”

You press your finger to his lips. “I think you should shut up and kiss me some more.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “I know you’re sexually repressed as of now, but that’s no reason to take advantage of me.”

You scowl, punching him on the shoulder and moving away from him.

“Come back,” he complains in a quiet voice.

“I am not going to do that.” You cross your arms.

“Come on,” he mutters, inching closer as you inch away, till your back hits the couch and you tumble backwards onto it, your legs on the headrest. Jaehyun laughs at your position, leaning in to keep his hands on either side of you, a doting look over him.

“Hey, did you know if I kicked my leg up, it would hit you in the balls?”

“Please don’t do that.”

You giggle, Jaehyun’s nose rubbing against yours in a bunny kiss. 

“Is your place usually this much of a mess?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. 

You sigh heavily. “I was having a bad day, okay? Or… a bad weekend.”

“Do you even have food?”

You look away, crossing your arms. Jaehyun sighs and shakes his head.

“We should go grocery shopping. How do you live like this?”

You scoff. “Oh, spare me the lecture. I’ve heard enough horror stories about your room from Sicheng. You can’t hide from me by sweeping your clothes and belongings into his room.”

“Snitch,” he mutters under his breath.

You can’t help the giggle that erupts from your mouth and you immediately cover it. Jaehyun smiles at you fondly and you look away, unable to bear that gaze of his.

“It really won’t wash off, by the way,” Jaehyun states, scratching at his collarbone.

You narrow your eyes, smacking his arms away to roll off the couch. Taking his wrist, you walk into your bathroom and turn the tap on. Something’s strange. But also strangely right.

“Look, I already tried—ow! Don’t rub that hard!”

You blink in confusion, trying again despite Jaehyun looking like his soul already left him. It doesn’t work. Your marker isn’t even that permanent. At least his regenerating skin cells should get rid of that arrow. Unless the ink was deep enough to pierce all the layers, as in a soulmark.

You gasp.

“You were right!”

“I told you s—”

"That's the point, isn't it?" you say, realization dawning as your eyes widen. "To see if people will question the system at all."

Jaehyun shrugs. “Maybe.”

"Oh, all those unhappy marriages that could have been saved," you say as you exhale. 

Jaehyun chuckles lightly. "I think that the point was, people can be happy without their soulmates. It's whoever you make one out of. Or I Googled too many articles on anti-soulmate propaganda."

You smile, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. Watching his ears turn bright red is the cherry on top.

“Okay, fake-boyfriend-turned-real-soulmate.” You give him a cheeky smile. “Did you rethink your decision about sharing that Netflix password with me? I get the girlfriend free pass, right? Right?”

“I didn’t even share it with my mother.”

You whack his arm, him possibly used to it by now, judging from his lack of response. 

“Idiot.” You cross your arms. “We can Netflix… and chill then. God, I can’t believe I said that.”

Jaehyun breaks into a chuckle. “You’re so pushy.”

 “And you like being pushed around, nerd.”

“Who said that?”

Jaehyun wraps his arms around you, spinning you so that your back hits the door. He leans in to kiss you again and you smack your palm over his pouted lips. You laugh at his face, his eyes brimming with confusion.

“You’re in my apartment. I make the rules here. Think twice before you start a game with me, Mister.”

His shoulders droop. “Fine. Can you at least let me kiss you four times a day?”

“Five times, if you ask.”

He laughs before leaning in again. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“You are one hell of a woman. Emphasis on hell.”

You laugh and grab his collar, pulling him in for the kiss that seals this deal.

You realize a few things in the moment: a) You don’t have to play roulette to find love, b) You don’t have to pick your poison to find love, and most importantly c) Love is right where you make something of it. Fate is still not in your good books but if it bends to you this way, you don’t mind at all. If Jaehyun kisses you like this every day, you don’t mind one bit. 

[potatopossums]

I know that it's literally just that simple to ask my friend for cuddles or sex or whatever — i know i am allowed to ask anything, and they won't hate me or judge me, even if they say no. But some part of me is really not comfortable with saying those things to my friend. And that feeling sucks because i feel like it's blocking me from being my authentic self.

Like why am I so afraid to be rejected here? Why does it feel world-ending? Like what if I just said:

"Hey i don't expect anything from you in expressing this, but i really get the urge to cuddle and cling onto you in a sort of "protect me from this cruel world" kind of way, i keep picturing you as a figure of physical comfort even if you lack the words. I don't know why, but that's just how my brain likes to picture things, and i wanted to express it aloud.

"I'm not sure what i expect from you in saying this, and i don't expect anything to be said if you have nothing to say. You can confirm or deny it all as you wish, although i know already that some of that stuff isn't accurate for you, which makes it even stranger to me that my brain insists on the cuddling especially, though maybe i define or view cuddling a bit differently than you. Who knows. I think cuddling that plushie you got me is just my self-soothing action, and sometimes when i self-soothe, i imagine other people giving me comfort too; like i imagine that my plushie is you (or some part of you), or i imagine my pillow is your shoulder or lap or something. I feel comfortable with the idea of you doing that sort of comforting irl, and it doesn't feel terribly off from what reality might be, but it also just feels strange in a way too. And it's hard to realize just how much comfort or cuddles i might need sometimes. I self-soothe a lot, and i probably still would continue that solitary self-comfort even if you were in closer proximity.

"But there is just something very comforting about the idea of you sharing the occasional physical touch. Especially in an area of my life that has usually been filled with hollowness and distrust and fear. It's nice to feel so comfortable around someone who not only enjoys touch too, but someone who respects boundaries, and maybe it's natural for me to want to absolutely bathe myself in that.

"Anyway. I don't want to sound like i expect anything from you. I think i would enjoy these things but it's also speculation. And it's also still platonic to me, these desires. It's platonically-rooted shades of intimacy. But i also understand that these things may not be of interest or comfort to you. I don't want to imagine you in a false way. I just want to be open about those things because they matter to me. Trust and physical presence feels nice to me. I like feeling nice and safe and protected. Like, how is it that i can develop jealousy of a dog? Because i want to be treated like that too, hugged and coddled and petted and happy to be seen. Like friendship. Companionship. That kind of bond.

"I want those things. It sucks that i can't lay my head on your shoulder for a few seconds, or pick up your hand or let you pick up mine to look at my hand, little innocuous things that are just small intimacies that everyday people do. And yeah, I'm a germaphobe, i don't do too well with long periods of touching. But i need little bits of sensory therapy and hugs, and regular touches can be so nice on occasion. It's like a little safety net.

"I also get to hug one of my coworkers when i see her every time; it just developed naturally and i love that. It's important to me because in my prior relationships with people in general, touch was strange and uncomfortable and even disrespectful. I value safe things that feel good. Like, I'm pretty sure i could pass out curled up next to you on the couch, or in the same room with you as you worked. I'd love that. Like i wish you were my freshman year roommate. I just want to spend time with you because you feel safe and i like that. I want to fill my life with that. And i know there's probably many more people who can also do that for me too, and i want to fill my life with those people too, and i don't want to overwhelm you. But i just... really love how i feel. I like this. I want more of it. And i hope that i can provide a similar safety to you too. Because you deserve that too."

[writingblackpink]

Coincidence (pt. 1)

genre: fluff (?)

word count: 3.6k

pairing: rosé x reader

Wherein your friend drags you out to dinner and you meet a familiar face....but is that all she is?

A/N: Hi :) Here’s another Rosé x reader I’ve had in the reserves for a while! A part 2 is in the works, but if you have any suggestions or ideas, drop them in my ask! Enjoy! 

-

You don’t even know why you’re here. You really, like REALLY, wanted to stay home and call it an early night after the week you’ve had. Your boss seemed to only speak to you to tell you you’d done something wrong, a pipe burst in you and your friend’s apartment causing the both of you to rearrange the furniture once (and then back again four days later once the landlord was able to get someone to fix it.), and to top it all off, you spilled coffee down your white blouse on the way in to work today and didn’t have time to go home to change so you sat in a coffee stained shirt in four meetings enduring your colleagues’ judgmental eyes while you tried to make light of the situation by making fun of yourself for spilling the coffee in the first place. It didn’t help at all - if anything, it just made your coworkers think you were even more strange than they already thought you were. Curse your caffeine addiction. Honestly, you probably need a new job, but that’s an issue for another day. Right now, you just want to be wrapped in a blanket in your cozy bed, blocking out the outside world and getting a good night’s rest but it just seems like nothing can go your way this week.

So, you’re here, in the passenger seat of your best friend’s car, face pressed against the window as you stare up at the city lights. You actually think it’s kind of beautiful, the neon on the signs above you mixed with the light mist on the window causing the color to soften and blur just a bit. The sounds of the bustling city muffled by the alt radio station your friend likes to listen to and the sound of the car driving through the rain kissed streets. It kind of looks like the tumblr moodboards you always see while scrolling your dash late at night. If you were creatively inclined at all you’d probably take out your phone for a picture to post to your small Instagram following, but then you remember that you don’t even want to be here so you’d rather wallow and pout for a bit longer.

“You look like a sad puppy with your face squished against the window like that,” your friend whines out. You peel your face away from the window and turn towards her, not missing the pout across her lips.

“I told you I don’t even want to go out.” You mumble back.

Your friend always has a way of making you do things you’d rather not. And it’s really not like you hate doing them. You do like her company after all and don’t mind spending time together regardless if you’re doing something you personally enjoy or not. Nine times out of ten, you actually enjoy doing whatever she drags you out to do, but you’d never say that out loud. At least not right now.

Tonight was different. She had mentioned that one of her coworkers that she has the tiniest crush on invited her to dinner except it’s not a date because her coworker was bringing a friend and she was bringing you. You tried to convince her to just go herself and tell her coworker she wants it to be a date, but that was more so because you REALLY did not want to go and not because you wanted or cared to see your friend happy. You did care for her happiness, just not in this particular moment. She caught on to the act pretty quickly and wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Just like every other time, you caved.

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” she said, looking at you with a wide smile and pleading eyes. “You always say you need to branch out and meet new people. This is a good opportunity to do so. I mean, you’ve had the same four friends forever. Expand your world!”

She did have a point. When you moved to the city together after college, she immediately met and made a handful of friends. Most of the friends you have currently are people you’ve met through her. It’s been over a year now and you still have yet to branch out. The more you thought about it, the more you were losing your resolve not to go.

“Alright, alright, I’ll go. You can stop pouting. But if this dinner is lame I’m SO calling myself an Uber and getting the hell out.”

You left it at that as she squealed and grabbed her keys, telling you that there were reservations soon and, oh, also that she’s only giving you ten minutes to get ready. You grumbled your way up to your room, cursing under your breath and immediately regretting agreeing to this mysterious dinner.

She pulls into a parking spot and cuts the engine on the car, abruptly stopping the soft sound of the radio and leaving you two in the silence with only the rhythmic tapping of rain drops sprinkling across the windshield. You get lost in the serenity of the moment before your friend rips you away.

“Hey, let’s go. We’re already like,” you follow her gaze to where she glances quickly at the time on her phone, “ten minutes late, thanks to you.” The last part muttered more softly and sarcastically than the rest.

You roll your eyes and go to unlatch the door, immediately letting the cool air slide into the car. It’s a brisk fall evening. Not too chilly, but the quiet mist falling from the sky mixed with the cool breeze makes you want to crawl back into the car and never come out. Goosebumps break out along your skin when the wind brushes against you. You really should’ve brought a jacket, you think. You round the car and your friend immediately links your arm with hers, happily swinging them back and forth.

“I’m so glad you decided to come out,” she says cheerfully, and put that way, you can’t deny that her happiness doesn’t also make you feel glad you decided to come out.

You step into the restaurant together, the change in temperature causing you to briefly shiver as you adjust to the warmth. It’s nothing too fancy, just a casual sushi place across town you’ve been to a few times. The place is modern and open, with tables scattered uniformly around the room. Definitely targeted to people your age. It’s moderately busy for a Friday night, but not too busy, which you appreciate. The last thing you wanted to do was spend the evening yelling at each other over the loud voices of strangers in a crowded restaurant. If you had to leave the house, you decided this was an okay place to be.

“How many in your party?” The server asks. You stay silent while your friend smiles politely and mentions that you’re actually meeting someone here, eyes already scanning the room. The server smiles and backs away, letting your friend search for whoever you’re both meeting.

“Ah, there they are!” She exclaims, her eyes lighting up as she pulls your hand and weaves in between tables to get to your destination. As you follow her gaze, your eyes land on a table with two women facing away from you, one blonde, one brunette. That must be them, you think to yourself.

As you get closer to the table, you hear a fit of laughter erupt from the blonde. The sound is familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on it. The sound was so warm and inviting, maybe that’s why it seems familiar you think to yourself as you both continue moving towards the table. Your friend rounds the square table and who you believe to be her coworker looks over with wide eyes realizing who’s finally arrived.

“I’m so sorry, we would’ve been here on time, but THIS one took her sweet time getting ready.” She uses her thumb to point in your direction and you immediately scoff, of course going to defend yourself.

“Excuse you, you literally told me ten minutes before we had to leave that we were even coming here, so sorry that—“

“Anyways,” she cuts you off “what’s important is that we made it...eventually. This is my best friend Y/N. Y/N this is Ashley, my coworker.” You immediately hold your hand out for a handshake, but she grabs your wrist and pulls you in for a tight hug. In your peripheral vision you see the blonde facing your direction, but she’s slightly out of focus so you can’t tell if she’s actually looking at you or just in your direction.

“Any friend of Joy is a friend of mine.” And you think that this girl is a little too friendly for your liking. Not that you didn’t like affectionate people, it’s just that, you didn’t like affectionate people tonight.

As you pull away you glance over to the blonde, eyeing you like a piece of meat, eyes lidded and a small smirk gracing her features. She’s really pretty, you think for a moment. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in waves, each strand perfectly in its place. You take a moment to admire the shape of her eyes, almost almond-like, but accentuated by the light smokey makeup look she was going for. She’s just wearing a simple top and jeans, just like everyone else here, but there’s something about her that captivates you. There’s something in the familiarity of her laugh, the warmth of her eyes that makes you think––

Realization hits you. You definitely know this woman. How, you can’t remember, but she seems to see that spark light inside you as your eyes widen slightly in her direction, and she immediately reaches her hand out to shake from across the table.

“Hi. I’m Rosie. It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m so sorry, but have we met before?” You spew out, eyebrows furrowed and looking directly into her eyes before really thinking and she snaps back quickly in her soft voice with “Uh, no. I think I would’ve remembered a pretty face like yours.”

Smooth, you think sarcastically. You’re not really in the mood for cheesy one-liners and her lips ticking up in a closed-lip smile just makes it worse. She moves to shake your friend’s hand too and then her gaze lands back on you. She said she didn’t know you, that you two have never met, however the smirk and quick wink she gives you when the other two in your party divert their attention elsewhere tells you a different story. Sensing some weird tension, you feign a cough and divert your eyes to your chair, moving as everyone decides to take their seats.

As dinner progresses you make small talk with the group, just wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible. No need to drag this out when your bed is waiting for you at home. Rosie keeps looking at you with admiration, and throughout the whole meal you’ve been wracking your brain to try and remember where you know this girl from. “Come on, Y/N, THINK.”

Just as you were about to decline on dessert and ask for the check, Ashley and Rosie ask for the dessert menu. The waiter brings over four menus and you sigh, giving in and scanning the items. The table has since gone silent in deliberation, and while you’re trying to decide on the cheesecake vs. the chocolate cake, you feel what you think is someone kicking you under the table. You brush it off as an accident and go back to scanning the menu. Except it happens again, and this time whoever is doing it lingers a little longer at your shin, and yeah, that’s a bare foot. You look up to find everyone else looking down, but you glare at Rosie sitting directly across from you just a moment longer. If only you can figure out where you know her from…

You brush it off a second time, not wanting to make a scene, but it happens a third time, and this time when you look up, you find dark eyes peeking at you suggestively over the menu and it suddenly feels like you’ve been hit by a truck. You’re starting to remember bits and pieces, but you can’t create a coherent memory.

A few weeks ago your friend had convinced you yet again to “let loose” and “have some fun” and go out with her and some other friends to some bar that had just opened. You may have gotten a little too loose, to the point where you can’t remember all the fun you actually had. You don’t even really like to drink all that much, you’re usually the designated driver, but there was something about this night that told you to throw all caution to the wind.

You remember getting into an Uber with your friends and heading to the bar. You remember having a few drinks. You remember meeting who you now know as Rosie at the bar, and then everything after that got fuzzier. You both spent some time whispering in each others’ ears in the darkest corner of the bar, drowning out the pounding of the music and the voices of strangers and their drunken dialogue, and you remember leaving with her and taking her to your apartment, but the next thing you remember is waking up in your own bed with a pounding headache and in nothing but an oversized t-shirt, water and pills at your bedside table and a post-it note left on your bedroom door with a “Had fun last night. Hope the hangover isn’t all that bad. Call me -xx”, followed by a phone number. For the life of you, you couldn’t remember the girl’s name, but you felt warm when you thought about the night before, so you added the number in your phone with the lip emoji next to it for no reason other than you wanted to remember the warm feeling that ignited when you thought of her.

Chugging the water and exiting your room late in the afternoon, Joy greeted you with a “So, you had fun last night, huh? I heard you bring someone home? I can’t believe it!” she teased you, “You are able to have a good time!”

You scoffed it off with a “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” rubbing your temples and trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the blush rising in your cheeks. Your friend never pushed you more about it, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t really have much to tell her anyways.

You’re also not one to bring home pretty girls from bars, but, again, something about that night made you throw every inhibition you had out the window. Maybe it was Rosie herself (from what you can remember, you liked her), maybe it was the alcohol. You couldn’t know for sure and it didn’t really matter. It wasn’t something you regretted, but you also weren’t super proud of it.

You immediately feel heat rush to your face and you feel her foot move up your leg once again. Just as the waiter walks over to the table, you feel the heat in the tips of your ears and just know you won’t be able to make a viable excuse if anyone catches you blushing THIS aggressively. You shoot up out of your chair so suddenly that it draws the attention of everyone at the table, specifically noting how startled Rosie looks at you jolting away from her touch.

“Um, I’m, uh, going to go to the restroom. I’ll pass on dessert.” With that, you turn quickly on your heels and make a beeline for the restroom. As you make it halfway there, you faintly heard Rosie say that she’s going to make a pit stop as well and you hear her chair move as she rises to follow shortly after.

“Shit...shit, shit, shit,” you curse under your breath as you hurriedly make your way into a stall, trying to think of ways you can avoid this humiliation as much as possible. Your non-confrontational attitude causes anxiety to peak in your chest. That, combined with Rosie’s unpredictable actions tonight, has you feeling a bit light-headed. Your breathing shallows. As you’re pacing in the confined space, you hear the door open and close, but no movement. Is she….is she waiting for you?

You decide to take a deep breath and unlock the door, but you gasp when she immediately puts her hand on your shoulder and pushes you against the cool tile wall across from the stall. There’s no one besides you two in there, and you’re worried she can hear your heart basically beating out of your chest. Hell, YOU can hear your deafening heartbeat echoing in your ears.

She moves in like she’s going to kiss you and you immediately tense up. This was not what you were planning on happening when you agreed to dinner tonight. In retrospect, you really should’ve called the Uber as soon as your friend pulled into the parking lot.

You could feel Rosie’s breath on your lips and it was all too much for you. The way she was looking at you, eyes heavy and lidded and oh, so seductive - her scent, faint vanilla and lavender notes that wafted through your nostrils. You couldn’t decide if you wanted to push her away or pull her impossibly closer. You could feel yourself getting lost in everything that was just her and your eyes screwed shut as everything became too much.

You were surprised when she didn’t kiss you. Instead, you felt her lean towards your right side and bring her mouth so close to your ear it made you shiver. The arm that wasn’t on your shoulder moved to rest her palm flat on the wall next to your face. You opened your eyes, but you could no longer see her face. The hairs on the tip of your ear reach up to meet the warm breath fanning across it. You felt your breathing pick up the closer she got.

“Why didn’t you ever call me, baby? You have my number, right?” she whispers seductively, sending a tingle down your spine. It’s so silent, you almost didn’t hear her with how loud your heartbeat is thumping in your ears.

Just as you open your mouth to stumble out a reply, she takes your ear lobe between her teeth and gives it a playful bite. You let out an embarrassing whimper as she does so, feeling yourself immediately melt into her. As she’s pulling away, the door to the bathroom opens and Joy walks in, but stops in her tracks when she sees the two of you.

You both snap your heads toward the intruder. You’ll admit, you’re in a bit of a compromising position, and you can’t tell right now if it would’ve been better for a stranger or Joy to find you like this.

You clear your throat and fidget away from Rosie, straightening out your shirt and moving to the sink to wash your hands while clearing your throat again. Rosie walks past your friend in the mirror and out the door like nothing ever happened. After washing your hands, you also walk past your friend without saying a word, leaving her shocked in the bathroom.

You walk back to the table and find that Rosie has easily fallen back into conversation with Ashley, while you feel like there’s a permanent blush brushed across your features. You try to ignore that though, and join in the conversation just as Joy is making her way back to the table. She glares at you a moment, still confused, and even though you see her trying to get your attention, you ignore her and hope she just takes it as you being too immersed in the current conversation to notice.

The rest of the evening goes by smoothly. No suggestive touching or longing glances, but you’re now realizing that that was what made this dinner interesting, and realizing so made you sad to see them go.

Soon enough, you’re saying your goodbyes with hugs outside of the restaurant with promises to meet up again soon. Rosie gives you a lingering hug and whispers in your ear once again, out of sight and earshot from the others.

“I’m serious, Y/N, call me. I want to get to know you better.”

She pulls away and you nod, despite still not having made up your mind on whether or not you were actually going to call her. She didn’t need to know that right now. Your mind is a mess and you’re still trying to sort out exactly what happened that night. Even if you weren’t going to call her, it’s not like you’d tell her anyways. Your non-confrontational nature wouldn’t allow it.

You smile and part ways, making your way to the car, hoping your friend wouldn’t question what she saw, but deep down knowing she will. It’s stopped raining now, and all that’s left is the wet pavement reflecting the streetlights above you. You know the barrage of questions is coming, but you’re trying to savor this moment of calm before the storm.

You take a seat in the car and look over to your friend who’s already staring at you. It’s a bit of an ominous scene in the late evening, the only light coming from the minimal street lights outside your window. You stay silent. There’s no way you can really anticipate what’s going to come out of her mouth first. Your thoughts are cut short when she starts speaking into the silence.

“So, are you going to tell me what I saw in the restroom earlier, or am I going to have to pull it out of you?” she asked accusingly.

“Joy,” you responded sincerely, “can you keep a secret?”

[deadtower]

why are some people so determined to be miserable. like i sent six or seven of my coworkers whose phone numbers i have the schedule for next week because it came out early (it’s usually not out til sunday but it came out tonight) so they can make plans for next week re: shift trading and so on and so forth

one of the coworkers i sent it to apparently got fired tonight and i had no idea

she texts me back “wow - ur real subtle! to think that i liked u and had such nice things to say about u. then out of the blue (when u have NEVER texted me before) u send me a pic of a schedule at 4am - that i didnt ask for btw - and then say ‘ur not on it’? hmmm ... why would u be so mean? lmao. have u ever sent me the schedule before? um - no. so why would you pick 4am to send me the schedule and say ‘wait ur not on it’? again - thx for being so mean! ive never done anything so mean 2 u - ive always had ur back when people talked! u wouldnt know that tho - but thats cool. u of all people i would never expect 2 kick sumone when theyre down”

like i guarantee you no one’s ‘talked’ about me bc like everyone at this job likes me bc i actually do my job and get along with people, and everyone hates this coworker bc shes miserable, plus i HAVE texted her before (to trade/pick up shifts) so that’s debunked and as i said before i legit just texted her the sched bc IT CAME OUT EARLY. it’s never come out this early before and i was trying to be nice

and i said “no? what happened” when she asked if i knew what had happened to her tonight and thats when i said “o shit youre not on it” bc i took a second look at the schedule (and like she KNOWS she’s not on it so idk why she’s harping on about THAT of all things as if she was the one who didn’t know she wasn’t on it)

like legit some people are determined to be miserable, i already said several times it was a fucking accident and apologized and explained the situation. jesus. shut up and let it go

[chaos-and-recover]

I am married to someone with an intense, if only midsized, fanbase. Parasocial relationships have been a part of our lives since long before it was a buzzword. It is weirdly fascinating to us, but sometimes a bit frightening. Now that it is the buzzword of the hour, seeing it misattributed is one of our pet peeves. I have seen people claim any amount of interaction on the fan's end is "pick me" (although fan interaction is necessary for his job) or claim that him utilizing social media makes him more culpable for forcing parasocial relationships on the fans because of power imbalances. If he is obvious about promoting something, though, it doesn't go over well because audiences don't want to feel like their being advertised to. Parasocial relationships are sometimes hurtful and scary on our end. 1) There was a woman who had been following his career since the 90s, when he wasn't as well known. She would often send him letters, gifts. Within the past 5 years something changed. I don't know why, but she suddenly began to consider him a boyfriend of sorts. He had never responded to these letters. I discovered she had been catfishing me under my private, locked social media accounts under a fake name, pretending to be someone I knew from high school. He blocked her on all social media. She harassed his coworkers until they blocked her too. A friend of mine said she went on TikTok to brag about how overly sensitive celebrities will block if you call them out for not being better than regular people. Meanwhile, we got a letter from her last year begging for him to forgive whatever she did that offended him. 2) 15ish years ago, in a magazine interview, my husband states his fave color. 2 years ago, I was having lunch with a friend, without my husband. A younger woman approached the table. She asksnif my husband was around and I said that he wasn't. Immediately her tone and expression changed to something nasty. She asked if I would at least give him a painting she had done of him. It was all done in various shades of the same color. I commented on this and she sneered at me with; "It's his fave color." I am still trying to be polite at this point and casually go; "Oh is it?" and she ery rudely snaps that I am his wife and I don't know his fave color like SHE does, so I have had it and say, assertively that I've had enough and she needs to leave. I gave it to my husband and told him the encounter. He laughed about it and said that it wasn't his fave color anymore. I had never thought to ask about his fave color because it just didn't seem important to either of us. He had never asked mine. Her twitter handle was on the painting so I looked it up. Her and a few friends were discussing the incident, using my first and last initials and my husband's first. They were discussing how clearly they know him deeper than I do, that he must secretly hate me if his own wife doesn't understand him like she does, and she altered the story so that she had seen him there earlier so I was clearly lying and that she had timidly approached the table and I had screamed at her that the color was ugly. I don't watch his interviews unless he specifically asks me to, because this is like listening in on someone's work meeting. This has been misconstrued by "fans" that I don't support him. I absolutely do, 200%, probably more than they support their husband's jobs, but watching his interviews isnt how i support him. I support him in our home, in our phone calls, in other ways he appreciates in our personal lives. Parasocial relationships are absolutely fine, until people start to believe they aren't in one, or that it is somehow more substantial than personal relationships the celebrities have with their loved ones. They truly think that they can Sherlock Holmes someone enough to truly know them better than the ones who actually know them in real life. (Sorry if you got this multiple times. Tumblr said it didnt send my ask.)

(Same anon from before) What fans need to understand is that parasocial relationships are good. It is fine to be a fan of someone, support their career, analyze them and write fanfiction and draw fanart of them or their characters. This is how my husband keeps his job, this is completely normal fan behavior. It isnt bad for the sake of existing. But they need to be aware that it is parasocial. I think the problem doesn't lie with parasocial relationships so much as when those in the relationship aren't aware that it is parasocial. Those who are aware of it being parasocial aren't the ones claiming that I do not know my husband but that they do or sending him love letters thinking their in a relationship with him. Those who know it is parasocial know that there is a difference between him answering questions in an interview (after being coached by a professional on how to appear and how to speak, and going into it knowing 90% of the questions) and having a conversation when there aren't cameras around, behind closed door. There is a difference between remembering a list of favorite things and watching someone enjoy those things in the moment every day in person. You just HAVE to be aware that they ARE parasocial.

First of all I gotta say I'm SUPER curious who you are (obviously you don't have to tell me!)! I've heard and seen things like what you described happen in several different fandoms of varying popularity, and I'm sorry you have to deal with that. But you're 100% right, engaging in regular fandom behaviour is perfectly normal, even interacting with creators/actors/musicians/whoever on social media (or in person if you meet them). It's HOW you interact with them. You need to both have your own and respect their boundaries.

I'm a fan of a couple 80s/90s boybands, as you just... ARE as an elder millennial lmao, and I can understand how easy it is as a young teen to go too far and cross boundaries because you just don't have the life experience or really, emotional regulation to interact with your idols in a normal way. But I've seen that now carry on well into adulthood, the things grown-ass women TO THIS DAY say about the wives of some of these band members is shocking (maybe not to you though since you've lived it!). I've had several conversations where I've had to remind people that literally every interaction they've had with these people at official meet & greets and stuff, even to an extent their interactions on social media, it's like the famous-person equivalent of Customer Service Voice. They're working! Of course they're nice to you when you paid like $500 to talk to them for thirty seconds! It doesn't mean you're friends!

(Not shaming paid M&Gs, I've done them, I'd do them again, it's an opportunity my 13 year old self never thought she'd had but like... I'm not secretly dating a Backstreet Boy because I met them for five seconds, y'know?)

Anyway yeah... all this to say, you're right. Parasocial relationships are a natural part of fandom and they're FINE and GOOD you just gotta respect boundaries.

[amjcpvr]

Green Apple, Sadly.

“Green Apple for sure!” He calls out.

Guessing Skittle flavors is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my fucking life.

“Wrong!” I cackle and he continues to name the rest of the flavors, one after the other until he only has one choice left.

“Damn it, it was orange!” He cries and I laugh at him.

He scrunches his eyebrows at me, immediately bringing his competitiveness out. I smile, because this is definitely the Changbin I know.

He yells at me to close my eyes and I laugh before obeying and putting my palm out.

“If you get this right, I will say it’s wrong anyway,” he jokes, I hear the class go silent and he laughs nervously as he faces the professor.

“Haha, just kidding, guys, it was a joke,” I can’t help but to laugh because I can just see him fidgeting in his seat after suddenly being the center of attention.

“Grape!” I easily say as I swivel the small candy in my mouth. He groans and marks down another tally mark for the amount I got correct.

“Ten for ten!” I brag to him and he just rolls his eyes with a small smile.

I am about to place another skittle in his hand when he opens his mouth with his eyes closed.

“I think my sweaty palms are taking away the flavor, put it in my mouth!” He exclaims as he eagerly opens his mouth even wider.

My eyes widen and I tense up for a moment.

I have never felt this way before. My stomach begins feeling queasy and the back of my neck begins sweating like crazy.

I gulp and smile nervously.

I toss it into his mouth, carefully planning every angle so I don’t have to touch his lips.

“Strawberry?” He asks unsurely and looks at me with hopeful eyes.

I shake my head no with a big grin and he stomps his feet childishly.

He begins whining and I feel my chest squeeze. What was this feeling?

————————

“Hey! I’ve been meaning to introduce you two!” Changbin runs up to me and I smile the best I can because I already know what’s coming.

“This is her, babe,” He continues and the beautiful girl standing next to him smiles brightly. She’s everything he told me about.

I feel my lips shake and I clear my throat and try to compose myself.

I guess it’s my fault for working at a movie theatre.

“Nice to meet you! He literally never stops talking about you! Boy is whipped!” I try joking and it seems they both buy it.

They burst out into laughs and share a sweet kiss.

I hear someone clear their throat and their attention goes to my coworker now, Jisung. Who is also Changbin’s friend.

“Bro, order or get out of the line,” Jisung sternly says but Changbin takes no offense and instead laughs before ordering and I am finally free from that torture.

Why me?

————————

“Go team!” Someone sarcastically comments as they spot the baseball team walk by with their letterman’s jacket on. The school had organized a send off for their upcoming competition.

I keep my eyes wide as I search for the only guy I care for on the team. I start to get worried because he does not show up at all and almost the whole team has passed already.

Finally, I see him in the back walking with his girlfriend and Jisung. My smile shrinks visibly but I cannot take my eyes off of the sight anyway. He looks amazing in that jacket and he walks confidently, taking in his sudden moment of fame.

We meet eyes and he smiles widely. I want to look away but I can’t. It’s like he has bewitched me.

He raises a hand and waves it wildly. I send him a small smile and two thumbs up before mouthing out a ‘good luck’ and he responds with a loud ‘thanks’.

Something about that interaction is unmatchable to anything else. How was he able to spot me in such a huge crowd? Why did he reply to me when he was with his girlfriend?

He shouldn’t give me false hope.

————————

“They say you find your soulmate before you even turn 21,” he randomly comments as we sit beside each other studying.

“They say you should shut up and study,” I groan back. I am currently stressed with all these numbers and signs and this stupid calculator that has one too many functions.

“Do you think you’ve found yours?” He asks as he doodles around his notes, completely ignoring my words.

“I think you should study,” I repeat. I really do need to study because I’m failing class, but of course there is another reason for why I want him to be quiet, as well.

He seems to be bringing this type of thing up a lot nowadays and I am not comfortable with it at all.

“I think I’ve found mine,” he cryptically says but even the little ant walking on the table knows who he is talking about. The sparkle in his eyes gives it away easily.

“I’m going to my dorm, bye,” I comment and leave.

I should’ve never let the feelings get to me.

————————

“I don’t appreciate you talking about me behind my back,” I growl as I stare at him and even though I am mad pissed, I am also strongly hurt.

“I’m sorry. You’re right,” he easily accepts defeat and that just makes me even more mad.

“What were you talking to Seungmin about?” I ask as I increase our distance each time he wants to decrease it.

“It’s n-nothing,” he stutters. That means whatever they were talking about would make me very disappointed or even more pissed.

“Tell. Me.” I demand and he sighs.

He lowers his head as if he is ashamed of himself and takes a deep breath.

“He told me it looked like you were coming onto me and, honestly, I felt it too,” he whispers out. The answer is barely audible and I have to lean in to hear him clearly, but when I hear what he says I become a statue.

It is true. It is a hundred percent true and I have no right to call him out for it.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Changbin?” I have no right, but I do it anyway.

“I know! I’m sorry, I really am. I was stupid to even think about it,” he hurriedly says before I can burst on him.

“Is that why you’ve been asking me all these stupid questions? Our first impressions, soulmates, ideal type of boyfriend?” I roar as this time I walk towards him and he backs up.

“I can’t believe you think of me like that,” I laugh cynically and shake my head.

“I’m just an easy girl who loves breaking relationships up, huh? You happened to be my next victim so you were trying to catch me before I began to ruin your relationship. Thanks a lot,” I continue and glare straight at him.

His back hits the wall and I realize that he is not trying to defend himself and he’s just taking the hits.

“Don’t ever talk behind my back again,” I say and then I am out of there as if I was never there.

I realize that I need to maintain my distance from now on.

For everyone’s sake.

————————

“Does it hurt?” Jisung asks me out of nowhere.

I look at him weirdly and question what he means with my eyes.

“When he talks about his girlfriend in front of you?” He clarifies and I nod to acknowledge that I understood now.

“Yes, but it wakes me up. We’re so close to each other that sometimes I forget he’s taken. It makes me remember I have no chance with him and to stay in my lane,” I reply with a shrug as if my heart isn’t breaking into a million pieces just by thinking about it.

When he talks about her his eyes light up and he can go on for hours about her. He’s so proud of her and so whipped for her. She is everything to him. I stand zero chance. Always did, always will.

“That sucks,” he comments and ruffles his hair.

I chuckle. Oh yes indeed.

————————

“Dude, why have you been so distant?” He asks. We are currently in our criminology lecture and the professor is going on and on about how his wife is cheating on him.

“Honestly?” I ask him. I didn’t want to tell him the truth but that’s all I could tell him. No more lies.

I’m going to look like a fool, completely going against everything I had yelled at him for only a couple weeks earlier. But around him, I am always the fool anyway.

He nods as if that was an obvious factor to include.

“I…” I hesitate and look away from his stare.

He always looks at me straight in the eyes and I hate that about him. He never gives me an opportunity to defend myself. He knows I am weak to his beautiful dark eyes.

“I started catching feelings and I couldn’t handle it. It would just bring problems to everyone, so I decided to put some space between us,” I say looking straight back at him. He wants the truth? Well here it is.

He sits there shocked for what seems like forever before he finally clears his throat and looks away.

I gulp because even though I seemed sure of my decision and insisted on telling the truth, I was very insecure from that reaction.

He doesn’t say anything for the rest of the class and when it finally ends we leave without saying goodbye to each other.

This is for the best.

————————

“Congratulations, you guys made it! Good luck in your next semester, or in life, whichever is next for you all!” The professor ends class and I smile.

Finally, we can have time off, something I’ve longed for since Changbin and I had parted ways.

After the day I confessed, we stopped, everything.

No more sitting by each other, no more catching up, it was like we were never even friends.

I still see him sometimes, but always from afar.

I look over to him. He’s sitting beside Jisung, finishing up something on his laptop before closing it and standing.

I stay seated and pull my phone out pretending to be busy.

“I’ll, I’ll catch up to you later,” he tells Jisung and I gulp as I feel Jisung turn to me.

Jisung simply agrees and exits the lecture hall.

Finally, I stand and begin walking across my row to exit the room.

I see him out of the corner of my eye, getting closer, so I increase my speed.

Things were finally going to be okay again, why did he want to ruin it?

“Hey! I’m sorry!” He yells right as the door closes. I run out before he even has a chance of speaking to me.

I see Jisung standing by the door and he only hands me a tissue before walking away.

I hurriedly run in the opposite direction before Changbin could find me again.

Now, it was truly over.

Finally.

Sadly.

[phcking-detective]

♖ reed900 please?

♖ : Having their hair washed by your muse; TW: strongly implied Nines was physically and sexually abused at Cyberlife, nothing graphic though

***

Nines does not like to be touched.

It reminds him of memories he has [deleted], files erased over and over and over again, that somehow always come back. Connor says it is a sign he has a “subconscious” and that he should deviate to fully confront and process these memories so that he can heal from his trauma.

Gavin says he can do whatever the fuck he wants and if staying a machine keeps him from having a mental breakdown with a 40% chance of deactivation from stress, then that’s his decision and Connor can “suck it.”

Nines stays over at Gavin’s apartment far more often than he visits Connor and Lieutenant Anderson’s house. He is inside Gavin’s apartment right now, sitting in his bathtub.

“Gavin,” he calls. “I require your assistance, Detective.”

He can clearly hear the human’s grumbles about how he just sat down as he moves from the living, through his bedroom, to the bathroom door, complaining the whole way. Gavin complains about nearly everything, most especially their coworkers. A mutual agreement on how useless and incompetent everyone else in the department is how they first [bonded].

“What do you need, princess?” Gavin asks from behind the door.

Gavin calls him [princess] and [babe] and [baby]. The first one when he feels Nines is being “snobby” or “spoiled” and the last one only in private.

“I require your assistance washing my hair.”

“I--wha--” Gavin splutters. “You know how to wash your own damn hair! You take like, two showers every day. Driving up my goddamn water bill.”

“This is a different context,” Nines says.

“Because you’re sitting in a bathtub?”

“It is different.”

“... fine.”

Gavin always gives him what he asks for.

Nines waits in the bathtub as the human slowly opens the bathroom door, peeking his head inside with his eyes paradoxically closed.

“Are you decent?” he asks.

“I certainly am not bathing with my clothes on,” Nines replies.

“I--well--” Gavin flushes and stumbles over his words again. “Are there like, bubbles or something?”

Nines frowns. “The water is not boiling.”

Gavin groans and enters all the way inside the bathroom. He opens his eyes, but won’t look directly at Nines. The human concept of [nudity] is very strange. Nines would not allow any other human to see him outside of his suit because 1) the jacket is bulletproof and removing it removes a layer of his defenses, 2) [nudity] for him is only necessary for cleaning and maintenance and no other human has the authorization to participate in either, and 3) if they cannot stop touching him after being repeatedly told not to while he at least has the barrier of clothing available, he most certainly will not trust them around his bare chassis.

Gavin is not a [threat], he has been genuinely helpful cleaning and repairing Nines as his partner, and he does not touch Nines without his permission.

“OK, what ...” Gavin half-gestures at him in the tub. “What do you need help with?”

“Washing my hair.”

“What, do you want me to do it for you?”

Nines does not answer. As a machine, he cannot [want] things. At least, he cannot admit to wanting things. If the red walls completely restricted all feelings and internal thoughts, no android would ever have the motivation to deviate in the first place. Since they only restrict outright actions ...

Nines does not verbally answer. He waits. Gavin always gives him what he asks for, even when he cannot say the words.

Even when he does not understand what he wants himself.

“You are so--can’t phcking believe, spoiled phcking, big ass android baby.”

Gavin complains the entire time he grabs the shampoo, kneels down next to the tub, and motions for Nines to turn his head. Nines does so graciously.

“You’re like a big spoiled house cat, you know that, right?” Gavin asks as he rubs shampoo into his hair. “One of those fluffy white ones that refuses to get her pretty little paws dirty.”

Nines closes his eyes and purrs. He does not like to be touched, but this is not technically touching. It is not the same. Gavin’s hands do not run over his body, do not peel back his chassis, do not touch between his legs. His hair is just several hundred thousand long protein strands, too thin even to have sensors.

Perhaps his scalp is another matter, but he does not have [bad memories] of that being touched. Or washed. When Cyberlife cleaned him, they dumped industrial duty chemical agents on him and rinsed it off with a pressurized water hose.

Gavin scritches behind his ears.

“You like being a big pretty bitch, huh?” he asks in a low voice. “Yeah, you’re my spoiled baby.”

Nines purrs louder and pushes his head into the hands massaging his scalp.

“All right, I’m going to wash this out now.”

He sighs, but holds still while Gavin fills a plastic cup sitting on the ledge with water. His partner places his hand on his forehead to prevent soapy water from running down into his eyes as he rinses out his hair.

“Do you need anything else, baby?”

Nines turns toward Gavin’s voice the way sunflowers turn toward the sun. Usually, he hates it when humans speak. They are always doing that, literally all the time, and the vast majority of it is completely irrelevant. Humans should be restricted to a five hundred word quota, per day.

Except for his. 

Gavin has a very nice voice, when he isn’t yelling. And sometimes he uses the yelling to tell Connor to “fuck off” and stop bothering Nines about being “brothers” or to make other humans go away and stop trying to [befriend] [talk to] [touch] [handshake] [touch] [small talk] [hug] [smile] [BOTHER] him.

Nines looks up at him. “Join me.”

Gavin’s eyes widen and blood rushes to his face. “I--shit, babe. Nines, you ... you don’t know what you’re--”

“I am not one of those suspiciously infantile androids on TV,” Nines interrupts. “I understand that you are sexually attracted to me; obviously your phallus is erect.”

Gavin predictably ignores his argument. “So you’re saying it’s big enough to be obvious, huh?”

“I am stating I have heat vision, and I can track your blood flow,” Nines deadpans.

Gavin flushes even more and shifts on his knees.

“I also know you like it when I’m mean to you.”

“Maybe.” Gavin glares at him. “Fuck off, everyone’s got kinks. But you’re barely six months old and you can’t admit to wanting or feeling anything without breaking your mind.”

Unfortunately correct.

“I am not offering to have sex with you,” Nines admits. “So if, given that caveat, expecting you to engage in a naked activity with me is an unreasonable request, then I will not push the matter.”

Gavin sighs. “Look, I know humans are shit and all, and I’m really not a good person, but nothing is sexual without consent.”

“I am fairly certain--”

“You know what I mean,” Gavin snaps. “Like, god, if you really want me to get in the damn tub with you, just because we’re naked and I’m horny, that doesn’t mean I’m going to start humping your leg or something. My dick is my problem, not yours.”

Nines tilts his head to the side. “Then we are in agreement?”

Gavin makes his angry face that he makes when Nines wins an argument but he doesn’t want to admit it.

“Why do you want--why do you require my assistance inside the tub?” he asks.

“Cleaning is allowed as part of general maintenance,” Nines answers. “It is not a restricted activity.”

[holding hands] is a restricted activity. [kissing] is a restricted activity, although the red walls do not prevent Nines from staying still while Gavin kisses him. But there are so many other restrictions. Words of affection, “cuddling,” sexual intercourse--not that he still has the attachments for that anyway.

But cleaning is allowed. He can wash Gavin’s hair too. He can give him the same--the same--[thing].

He does not know how to convey that information to his partner though. He cannot even put it into coherent words inside of his own mind, and they cannot interface.

Yet somehow Gavin always understands him anyway.

“Well, since it’s not restricted,” Gavin says.

He takes his shirt off, then pauses. When Nines does not object, he strips off his undershirt and jeans as well. He lingers at the hem of his boxers, and Nines can’t stop his LED from flashing red.

“OK, scoot over,” Gavin says.

Nines “scoots” as much as he is able with his larger frame. Water still sloshes over the side of the tub when Gavin climbs in, boxers still on. He sits down with his knees to his chest, hunched over away from Nines.

Unacceptable.

Nines wraps an arm around him and pulls him backward so that they are back-to-chest. He does not like being touched, but right now he is doing the touching.

Simply to assess what parts of his human’s body need to be cleaned, of course.

He should be thorough.

He tugs Gavin between his hips, legs bracketing the human’s own so that their thighs press together. Gavin obligingly leans back against his chest, nuzzling his face into Nines’s neck. Nines pets his hand up and down his chest as part of his thorough examination. For cleaning.

“Hey baby,” Gavin murmurs in his ear.

Nines shudders and lets out an involuntary purr. It is really more similar to that of an overheating laptop, but Gavin likes it and calls it “purring.”

“Mine,” he says, holding his partner tightly.

Gavin kisses his neck, his jaw, the edge of his cheek. “Yeah.”

Perhaps Nines really does not know what he is doing, what he is asking of his human. But Gavin has admitted he doesn’t know either.

Perhaps they will figure it out together.

***

If you liked this, I have a whole fic series for them on AO3 and a patreon to support my writing which gets you bonus reed900 content like this!

[dazed--xx]

Bulletproof Love

Request: Can I have a Jimin imagine where you think he’s cheating cause you have a lot of trust issues which leads to a fight. Thank you❤️

Member: Trainee!Jimin x Reader

Genre: ANGST, Smut, Fluff if you squint

Word Count: 3,346

Trigger Warning: SMOKING CIGARETTES AND WEED

A/N: So the title is this song by Pierce the veil its better to listen to it while you read you’ll understand the lyrics in between the story better, im just a little emo kid honestly lol. ANYWAY FIRST JIMIN FIC. HOPE THE PERSON THAT REQUESTED THIS ENJOYS IT LITERALLY HAD A MIND OF ITS OWN 

I breathe you in with smoke in the backyard lights

“Y/N-ah?!” Sunny shouts from the other side of the inferno, drink in her left hand, the blunt in the other extended toward me. The smoke fills my lungs, the need to cough builds as I inhale. The sliding door behind me opening, as 3 loud voices boom “SUNNY!”. My eyes drifting to the bonfire in front of me, my social anxiety creeping up as I take another hit of the blunt. One of the 3 figures setting themselves down on the left side of me. My hand reaches out to pass the vice, eyes glued to the ground. “Oh...umm..I-I... don't” a soft anxious voice speaks, my eyes traveling from the fire to the male next to me.  

A soft smile appears on my face as his stunned eyes widen. “N-not that there's anything wrong with.....I mean I just don’t... I'm not like judging or whatever....I mean um-” “You don’t smoke I get it not a big deal can you hand it to the person next to you please” I ask softly. He nods, “I'm Jimin” “Y/N” We used to laugh until we choked into the wasted nights (Wasted nights)

My excitement built as I got ready to go with Sunny to her new boyfriend's party. Jimin always seemed to find his way at every party I went to after Sunny’s. My crush growing rapidly as each encounter left me in a whirlwind of emotions. “Come on Y/N!” Sunny shouts from my living room. “Relax bitch” I laugh as I enter the living room. “Let’s go Tae is probably waiting for us at Jimin’s” She snaps. “W-we’re going to Jimin’s...?” I mumble. Sunny smiles a radiance I only wish I could hope for.  

“I didn’t tell you? I'm sorry I thought I did” She smirks I shake my head. “Y/N you need to tell him how you feel or just move on” “I know but it's not easy man, I’m not like you” I mumble. “Girl, I know I confessed to Tae over a year ago, remember?” I shake my head Sunny sighs. “Y/N remember I was like utterly heartbroken because that kid that worked with me rejected me” the memory rushing to my mind like a tidal wave. Taehyung was the jerk coworker that slept with her and put her into a major depression. She quit her job and reinvented everything in her life. After Tae rejected her, she started smoking, my habit becoming hers.  

“I extended the invitation to him to show him I was over him you know? I went back to the café a day before the party and I didn’t even think he would be there Jungkook told me they all quit a while back. So, I figured why not and they were there so I just invited him, I wasn’t expecting him to actually show up but he did. When Jimin came and sat next to you he pulled me away. He told me that he missed me and our times together, that he hates how I smoke and that I don’t hold myself the way I used to and then he cried like hard core sobbed because and I quote ‘ he made a mistake and he’s been madly in love with me since before we even hooked up the first time’ “ Sunny explains.  

“Girl let me tell you I was shook honestly and I don’t know how it happened but one thing leads to another and we hooked up in the shed while everyone was sitting at the bonfire. After that Tae had to go and I figured damn he just used me again man, but I woke up in the morning with the cutest good morning text from him telling me that he's happy I'm his again and we just haven't left each other's side” I nod “Yeah, but you actually had the balls to confess. Both of you did really, I don’t have that. I can't tell him how I feel because I'm not sure how I feel.”  “Y/N don’t play yourself, cause your ass definitely knows how you feel” She says jokingly “Let’s go” I grab my jacket and rush out the door.

Pulling up the music blaring loud, cars sprawled around the street and yard. Taehyung standing outside, Jimin next to him a smile on his lips. Sunny’s tiny frame running and wrapping herself around Taehyung. Jimin noticing my slowly approaching figure a friendly smile appears on his face. “You came,” he pulls me into a hug “thank god! I could not survive this without you” he pouts. “Why would you think I wouldn’t come?” I question. “Sunny told me big crowds weren't really your thing” dread filled my stomach “I-is there a lot of people h-here?” Jimin nods slowly “But don’t worry you will be with me all night and since it's my party I can clear any room you need okay” He pulls my face into his hands as he speaks and looks in my eyes. I nod slowly “It's fine honestly I'll be okay you don’t have to do that” “EHEM as cute as all this flirting is, I need a drink where shall I go Jiminie?” Sunny cuts me off. “OH! Yeah um lets go inside huh” Jimin says still looking at me his hands returning to his side as a blush creeps onto his face.  

The party is packed, my anxiety driving me outside away from the cluster fuck of people. Sunny disappearing soon after we entered the house. Pulling a cigarette out of my pack standing against the side of the house. Its dark, the shadow of the home covering me as I inhale, the nicotine relaxing. Staring at the stars as I lean back. “I thought I'd find you out here” Jimin’s voice breaks through the silence. I hold up the cigarette “Don’t want to smoke in the house.” Jimin nods “Thanks but you could have its cold out here” I shrug “I like the cold....” my eyes drift to the ground “It was too crowded wasn’t it?” He asks curtly. I nod slowly “but it's fine I'll be fine I'm used to dealing with crowds like this I know how to make myself feel comfortable” “By sneaking off and being alone?” He asks laughing. I nod giggling “yeah” “I guess that’s the best way to deal with a crowd” He says jokingly.  

My body shifts as I ash the cigarette flicking it far from the house. Reaching for my pack to pull my blunt out, Jimin's hand is around my wrist. My eyes trail up to his face “Let’s go inside huh?” I shake my head “I like it out here.... just us” His hand releases me, moving up to my chin “Just us huh?” a blush creeps onto my face “I-I mean-” “you're cute when you're flustered” He says softly. “I'm not flustered I just...wait did you just call me cute?” I state quickly. He nods laughing “Duh I think your cute, no offense but I wouldn’t be out here if I didn’t...” “Oh...I do too, think you're cute I mean” “I know” He says bluntly I stare at him dumbfounded “Y/N I'm not the type to beat around the bush, I like you and I know you like me and I'm gonna kiss you now” He states pressing his lips to mine. My body in shock from the sudden confession, I slowly respond to his kiss. My arms snake around his neck, his hands on my waist pulling my body against his.  

His lips trail down to my neck, sucking. My panties growing wet, he presses me against the wall. “Hmmm you're so damn beautiful.” He whispers in my ear. His member growing hard against my thigh. His right-hand snakes down and lifts my leg around his waist. “Jump” He whispers between pecks against my neck. Following his instructions my legs are wrapped around his waist as he presses his lips against mine. Grinding his member into my core, my panties soaked through my jeans. I softly push on his shoulders. He pulls away as my hand reaches for the zipper of his jeans my lips attacking his neck. Soon both of our pants are off, my legs back around his waist his member buried in my core. He thrusts harshly losing himself in my core “Fuck I've imagined this so many fucking times but it's never been this fucking good god” He moans “it's all yours baby” His lips back on mine at my statement.  

It was the best time of my life, but now I sleep alone

Jimin and I have been together for 6 months now and it's been perfect.  

*Ping*

Jimin’s phone goes off again, as he beams at the screen. His hands removing themselves from my hair as he replies to the stranger on the other side of his phone. “Baby girl unfortunately I have to put this on hold I gotta go to practice.” He states sadly. Confused I pull my phone out of my pocket and check the time “At 12:23 AM? That’s a weird time to set a practice....” I state. Jimin’s face contorts “Excuse me?!? Are you saying I’m lying?” I sit up “What?! No.... I was just saying it was odd. That’s all” He nods clearly irked by my former statement. “Call me when you get done with practice babe, maybe I'll bring you breakfast or something” I smile at him as he stands from my couch preparing to exit. A soft grunt from his mouth as he pulls his jacket on making his way toward the door “Don’t bother....”. My figure following behind him, like a puppy desperate to keep its owner home. “I love you” I call out as the door slams.

The second he’s out the door my tears consume me as the thoughts take over. Who was that he was texting? Why did he flip out like that? Is he having regrets? I trudge back to my bedroom and lay in bed cocooning myself in the comforter crying myself to sleep, alone.  

So darling, don't, don't wake me up, cause my thrill is gone (Say I'm wrong) In the sunset turning red behind the smoke Forever and alone

The sun beaming on my eyes as I check my phone. 12:23 pm no new messages from Jimin. The day goes by extraordinarily slow as I wait for Jimin to return to the apartment. The thoughts of another woman consuming me as the hours pass, soon its night and I am falling asleep alone again.  

You've gone and sewn me to this bed, the taste of you and me (You and me) Will never leave my lips again under the blinding rain (Blinding rain) I wanna hold your hand so tight I'm gonna break my wrist (Break my wrist) And when the vultures sing tonight, I'm gonna join right in

I'll sing along, oh 'Cause I don't know any other song I'll sing along But I'm barely hanging on No, I'm barely hanging on By the time you're hearing this I'll already be gone And now there's nothing to do but scream at the drunken moon

*ONE WEEK LATER*  

The party I stumble into drunk with Sunny is extremely crowded, her form fitting dress hugging my body. The pregame at my apartment a little excessive, knowing it was Taehyung’s party. Leading my way to the kitchen for a drink, taking me away from Sunny and Taehyung. A crowd of people doing shots, excitedly handing me one. Consuming the unknown shot, I reach for a beer.  My drunk form stumbling into the living room, Jimin’s frame in front of me. A smile on his face, drink in his hand. A mysterious woman walking up to him, placing herself at his side. They have a small conversation before she takes his hand and leads him out back.  

Running toward the exit, I head home. Once I'm down the street my body collapses as the sobs take over. HE’S CHEATING ON ME, so blatantly, so publicly, he doesn’t care. I open my apartment door dragging myself to my room plugging my phone in bringing it back to life as messages come through on my phone. I click on the messages from Jimin.....

I leave the conversation without responding as I read Sunny’s messages

Throwing my phone down, lying in bed falling asleep. Waking up in the sun beaming on my face, a sharp pain shoots through my head. Getting out of bed to close the curtains I throw myself back in my comforter. Checking my phone 2:19 pm, Damn slept all day. I text Sunny  

I go to Jimin’s messages in my phone...

A knock on the door pulls me out of the bed, Jimin’s disheveled frame worried and slumped at my door frame as he wraps his arms around me. “Fuck I needed to see you baby” He whispers. His lips pressing against mine, hunger in them. Lifting me wrapping his arms around my waist, my legs around his.  

Our sweaty naked bodies connecting “Fuck! Take it, yes baby girl take that cock” His hand pinning my waist to my bed, his thrusts sloppy. My walls clenching tightly pleasure building within my core as Jimin attacks my sweet spot. “Shit you're so wet for me baby girl I'm gonna cum, where do you want me to cum?” He moans out, his lips attacking my neck marking me as his own. “Cum inside me” His movements halt, His eyes connecting with mine “Are you sure?” I nod quickly. A smile forms on Jimin’s face “beg for it...” the need for him to move builds. I clench tightly around him “No fair baby you're so tight as it is” He pouts, my arms snaking around his neck pulling his lips onto mine as he begins finding a steady rhythm inside me.  

Soon we are wrapped up in my comforter, bodies cuddled together; limbs tangled.  

*PING, PING, PING*  

A series of messages go through his phone. Jimin jumps out of my bed rushing to find his phone. “SHIT! I GOTTA GO” He states checking the contents of the mysterious message. “Aww I thought we could watch a movie....” I pout. He halts his dressing, facing me “I’m sorry, I gotta go I didn’t realize what time it was I’m late for a meeting I wouldn’t have been able to stay I just wanted to be with you until I had to go to the meeting. I missed you.” I nod slowly at his words. “Come back after if you want” He smiles “I'll try..” He says as he heads out the door. “I love you!” I shout as he runs out the door. A meeting???? Did he really just sleep with me and then leave?? WAS I OKAY WITH IT?????!!?!?!

This isn't fair! (No!) Don't you try to blame this on me (Ohhh) My love for you was bulletproof but you're the one who shot me And God damn it, I can barely say your name So I'll try to write and fill the pen with blood from the sink Woah oh, oh oh But don't just say it, you should sing my name Pretend that it's a song 'cause forever it's yours And we can sing this on the way home

I haven’t heard from Jimin in 2 weeks, my messages unanswered. My low point at its lowest, I haven’t left my apartment other than for work in a week. Scrolling through Instagram I see a picture on Taehyung’s page. Him, Jungkook, Jimin, and that mystery girl I saw Jimin sneak off with at that party. Jimin’s arm wrapped around her waist. Her chest pressed against him. Jealousy creeping up inside of me as I text Jimin a number of times again.  

A few hours pass and still no words from Jimin, my mind racing as my heartbreaks staring at the photo over and over again. Jimin’s snapchat story updating all day with videos of her, him and Jungkook. Laughter filling in-between them. The last video posted 5 minutes ago, alarming as the mystery woman has obviously stolen his phone captioning the video she recorded as “Surprise Cutie” Her beautiful face glowing as she shows around the practice room. Jungkook and Jimin’s figures dancing in the background as the music comes to an end. The bombshell runs over to Jimin complimenting him on his dance moves.  

Jimin’s smile brightens as he thanks her, her frame lifting as she presses her lips against Jimin’s. Exiting out of his story as my heart cracks in my chest. How could he do this? He doesn’t even care... he knows I'm on his snapchat......I can’t do this. My tears taking over my form as I curl into my bed losing myself in the heartbreak. Sobbing I go to view the story and it is gone. A message goes through my phone...

I'll sing along (Oh) 'Cause I don't know any other song (Oh oh) I'll sing along But I'm barely hanging on No, I'm barely hanging on By the time you're hearing this I'll already be gone And now there's nothing to do but tear my voice apart Nothing to do And scream at the drunken moon

Opening the door Jimin's crying figure standing there, his body shaking as the tears stream down his face. “Baby” He sighs rushing to wrap his arms around my frame. He drops to his knees at the lack of affection returned, his tears soaking into the fabric of my shirt. “Please, don’t leave me” He looks up at me begging. “Please, okay? I'll do anything.” I roll my eyes grabbing a cigarette out of my pack as the stress builds. Walking toward my couch displacing myself from the events about to happen. “Look at me, please just look at me” Jimin’s voice says shaky. “You said you want to explain. Explain and then leave please” I say looking him in the eye. “Her name is Hye-Jin she’s another trainee, Me and the boys are debuting soon. So, she is a background dancer for our first stage. She became friends with everyone pretty quickly, but me and her started talking about everything. Nothing flirty just stupid stuff. Then today happens and she kisses me out of nowhere and I freak out on her because I've told her about you about us. She knows how I feel about you; she posted the video to spite me so you’d leave. Please I don’t love her I don’t want her” He explains slowly. Reaching for my hands as the last of his words come out of his mouth “I can't lose you, okay? I can't lose us. You're everything to me please tell me I'm not going to”  

“Jimin” I sigh “I think you should go; I understand but I really need time....” His head faces the ground as the sobs take over his body “please baby please I can't walk out that door don’t make me, not knowing you're not going to call me later to tell me goodnight. I can't leave knowing the second I walk out that door you're going to break down just like I am so please don’t make me.” His hands caress my face forcing me to look in his eyes. “Please, I love you and I can't leave knowing this isn't what we need, TIME isn't what we need. Please, don’t do this” He leans forward brushing his lips against mine softly. “Jimin, please go” I whisper, his frame retreating from me as he walks toward the door. He nods slowly “I'm not letting you go I don’t care okay? I'm going to give you time but please know I'm not giving up on you I'm going to wait for you I love you and I won't lose you, not like this” and he's gone.... 

our bulletproof love shot down with one Bullet.  

[lovelyirony]

omg 10. “change in mind or change in heart?” with natmaria please? xx

Maria Hill does not like crushes. Ever. They complicate things, are never returned, and mess her up. 

This is why she does not like being around Natasha Romanoff. Black Widow. Tasha. Whatever you call her, Maria avoids her. 

This isn’t rational, she knows that. Maria can be a very rational person, but not about emotions. If she could still maintain a shred of empathy every now and again, she would cut out every single emotion entirely. 

Apparently, that is “severely unhealthy” and “please see a therapist, Ms. Hill.” 

It’s Deputy-Director Hill, firstly. Secondly, her whole job is severely unhealthy. She’s not going to stop working it. 

But back to the matter at hand. A crush. Crushes are stupid. All the time. Because when Maria gets a crush, she tends to imagine unrealistic scenarios, reads into every single action, and acts very illogically. 

Such as leaving the break room when her break has just started because Natasha enters and smiles at her. 

Or the time that Maria volunteered to do one of the hardest missions of the week because she decided that it would be better to focus her energies on not being killed and taking down a trafficking ring in Texas and dealing with gun-happy people than sitting down and telling someone that she had feelings for them. 

This did not happen out of the blue. 

Sure, she noticed Natasha when she first came. Hell, everyone did. With her Cupid’s Bow lips, green eyes that could stare right through you, and a killer figure, she bewitched everyone and she knew it. 

But that’s just noticing someone. That’s not knowing how they smile when they find something really funny. That’s not noticing how someone takes their coffee. 

And it’s not falling for someone. 

People tell you that it’s “love at first sight.” Pro-Tip: falling in love happens quickly, but it ain’t that quickly. 

Maria falls in a month. 

It is when she notices that Natasha refuses to drink coffee without creamer. It is when they share jokes and looks at some of Fury’s more petty quips, share a mission, and Natasha laughs. 

She laughs. 

And Maria falls. It’s like when she takes a dive from a tall building and there’s that split-second moment of being worried you didn’t bring your parachute or your team doesn’t have your back. 

So Maria has a little freak-out in her office and on the drive home. It’s fine. She just yells and someone to the right of her car stares, but it’s Fine. 

Things are Fine. 

(They are not Fine.) 

Because she likes Natasha. Likes her in the way that she wonders how it would feel to kiss her, to run her hands through her curls and get them tangled up. 

What if they got too tangled up? What if she accidentally got her hand stuck and then Natasha had to cut her hair and hated her for all of eternity? 

- 

The worst part of having a crush, in Maria’s experience as a human on earth, is quite often it is not returned. There is either the painful experience of them softly smiling and telling you that they are honored, but not like that. Friends, please? 

Or you drift and drift away and you don’t know them and they still smile at you but it’s not the same it can’t be the same all because you were fucking stupid and messed it up and then you’re alone, and--

Wow. Too personal. 

Anyways. They do not return it. And someone like Natasha...a girl could dream. But dreams are short-lived. And they are often just that. 

So she could think about getting coffee with Natasha before work and sneaking kisses while they commute together. She could think about taking her out to dinner and smiling across the table and arguing who will pick up the check. 

But that’s not possible. 

So Maria gets the hell on with her job and reviews over the paperwork twice. 

- 

It’s not until Coulson asks her to come into his office and she sees her. 

“Hey Mar,” Natasha says, smiling. “Fancy having a bit of a fun weekend.” 

Maria’s cheeks color. 

“Um, sure?” 

Natasha laughs. 

“You’re cute when you blush,” Natasha says. 

“Stop flirting in my office, it’s going to scar me,” Coulson says blandly. “I need you both to go undercover for a weekend. We’re supposed to be intercepting confidential medical information from one Dr. Tanner. She’s attending an exclusive LGBTQ club event. You’ll drop in Friday, fraternize Saturday, and lure her in. Got it?” 

“With all due respect Phil, why two of us?” Maria asks. “Natasha would do great, um. I don’t mean to sound creepy about that.” 

“None taken,” Nat says, grinning. 

“Two different styles,” Phil says. “Don’t make me explain. Just bring that blazer and the red pants you like. Go, plane lift-off at seven in the morning.” 

Maria nods. 

And then freaks out. In her apartment. 

Should she buy new perfume? Should she get a new face mask? Maybe she could pack seven different lipsticks, or maybe--

She’s overthinking this. By a lot. But damn, it’s with Natasha. Alone. 

- 

Natasha is excited. She’s the one who convinced Phil to let her put Maria on this mission. It’s logic. She could do it by herself. But it’s so much fun when you have a gorgeous woman at your side. 

She’s intending to tell Maria how she feels. She’s noticed the glances, the way Maria smiles at her. The most important part is that she knows that Maria isn’t just looking. 

So she’s packing, and she’s bringing her nice dress. 

- 

Maria shows up to the airport in comfy jeans, an old college sweatshirt, and has her hair pushed back into a messy ponytail. 

“Too early,” she grumbles, gripping her backpack. 

Natasha, of course, looks put together as always. She smiles at Maria. 

“Good sleep?” 

“None, unfortunately.” 

“Worried about the mission?” 

“More like the outfit.” 

“We can change it up when we get there,” Natasha says. “For now, you’re all good. I was thinking we get lunch when we get there?” 

“Sounds good.” 

The plane takes off, Maria fails to get a nap in, and instead texts Tony memes. 

you know every single time you text me i’m in shock 

why, because you know i’m funny? 

no, not that. just shook that you actually contact me. i thought you had bad guys to catch. 

i do. just on a plane for now. 

oh, with nat ;) she mentioned being excited about the mission! happy u get 2 spend quality time with her, loser 

i will tell pepper about the candle incident. 

i will literally give you an apartment for free if you don’t do that 

i want locations. 

Maria smiles to herself, looking out. 

“Gorgeous, right?” Natasha asks, smiling at her. “I think we’re gonna have some fun, Mar.” 

She likes the nickname. A lot. Probably more than she should. 

But they touch down, get their car, and Maria looks up restaurants. 

Natasha settles on Mexican. 

It’s a nice place, all things considered. They make easy conversation as they drive, and end up getting a table and looking at the menu. The salsa is good. Has a bit too much cilantro, but eh. What are you gonna do? 

“So, what do we know about Dr. Tanner?” Maria asks. 

“She likes women a lot, and she also likes performing illegal procedures on people.” 

“Dynamic.” 

Natasha laughs, sipping more of her water. 

They check into the hotel, get to their room, and find out that there’s only one bed. 

One. Fucking. Bed. 

“We can make a switch, maybe, but--” 

“It’s fine,” Natasha says smoothly, cutting the attendant off. “No trouble at all, but thank you.” 

Things are Fine. 

Just that Maria realizes that technically she will sleep with Natasha. Not in the usual way. But. Still. Sleep. 

They also have to get ready in the same bathroom and room. 

Great. 

- 

At least they both like trashy reality TV and documentaries. They share stories about work, share a mutual hatred for a coworker, and agree to have coffee when they get back. 

“There’s a great little place that I think you’ll love,” Natasha says. “It’s right by my apartment.” 

“I’d love that,” Maria says, smiling. “A lot.” 

- 

And then it’s time to get ready for the night. 

Maria decides to commandeer the bathroom, fiddling with her suit. She’s not sure if it’s too much with the heels. It might be. She still does her mascara and lipstick. 

And then she exits. 

Natasha falters in applying her lipstick. 

“Damn Maria. Damn.” 

Maria smiles. 

“You clean up well yourself, Romanoff.” 

(Natasha loves how she says her last name.) 

Maria cannot stop staring at Natasha. Because she looks stunning. 

-

This mission is boring. It could’ve been one person. Which makes Maria curious as to why there are two of them. Not that she’s necessarily complaining. It just...doesn’t make sense. 

Dr. Tanner is already infatuated with Natasha. She’s enamored, following her around like a dog on a leash. 

It’s amusing. Maria hates it. She’s on her fourth plate of appetizers. 

She has also gotten approached by a very cute woman. 

“Hey gorgeous,” she purrs. “I’m Lily. You are?” 

“Valerie,” Maria responds. “Pleasure to meet you.” 

“In that suit...the pleasure’s all mine,” Lily says. “My hotel room is 202, if you’re interested.” 

“I don’t believe so,” Natasha says, laying an arm around her waist. “Ready to go, honey?” 

Maria grins. 

“Sorry Lily, but I hope you find someone cute.” 

Natasha leads her out of the club. 

“I got the USB device. Put it in her device, huge mistake. Glad we don’t need to break into her hotel room. Anyways, room service?” 

“Sounds good,” Maria says, mouth going dry. “You can, um, stop having your arm around my waist. If you want. I don’t mind.” 

Natasha smiles. 

“And if I don’t want to?” 

“Change of mind or change of heart?” Maria asks, grinning nervously. 

“Neither. Always liked you, Hill. I thought you knew. That’s why I wanted you here on the mission.” 

Maria blinks, smiles, and grabs Natasha’s hand. 

“Cancel room service, I don’t think it’s necessary.” 

Natasha smiles. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

[silvershears]

Alright, listen. This book honks. And I want to talk about why. No, I'm not getting into the book review scene, but please indulge me.

I never had any intention of reading this book. I'll be up front with that.

A new coworker is a newish fantasy reader who, upon discovering that I am a long-time fantasy reader who also writes and has some vague publishing background, asked, "Would you read this book and tell me what you think? I haven't read it yet, but I'm curious to hear your opinion."

Sure. Why not. I was only 50 pages into the book I was reading at the time, so why not put that on pause and give this a go? This became infinitely more complicated by the fact that my new coworker is acquaintances with his wife, and then add in that I've met this author, had a bad interaction, and decided I never wanted to read his books. Nevertheless, I was determined to give it a go anyway, and I wavered for a while on whether to even include that background here.

Wasn't I already predisposed to not like this book? Perhaps. But this book was an excellent learning opportunity, if not a good story, and I think it's important for us all to approach books we don't like this way: Each time I ran hard up against my own disgust, I paused to ask myself why I felt that way. What was it about the story, the writing, the character, the plot, the world that made me react this way, and how did that interact with the author's intent?

First of all, a disclaimer: This will have spoilers. If you intended to check this book out, perhaps don't continue further until you've read it yourself. Maybe then come back and compare your experience to mine.

> The worldbuilding is based on two-dimensional lore.

The world is comprised of what appears to be three human races split along religious lines. The three sibling gods each have their own race of followers with some individuals inheriting the magical power of their god. One is a magic associated with air and water with a father/older brother god figure; the next is a mother/middle sister associated with fire and light; the third is a little brother associated with... the hard labor of forging? It's unclear what he originally stood for, but by the time the immense lore dumps are complete, we see the little brother's transformation from a highly skilled craftsperson who takes immense pleasure in crafting gifts to his siblings into a petty, angry god bent on chaos and destruction of his siblings' domains.

What brings on this transformation? The gift of a song.

He is so enraged that his siblings gave him a song instead of a physical item like he gave them that he goes into a rage, evicts himself from the metaphorical house, and goes to live in the bowels of the world where he can forge in peace. He goes on to create all the various fantasy creature races in the world like dragons, fae, constructs, shadow demons, etc.

And his name? Keos. He's the chaos god and his name is Keos. I can forgive a poor name here an there—perhaps he never said them out loud—but add in that the sister's light/fire magic is called lumen—y'know, like what lightbulbs are measured in—and I have concerns.

Naming problems aside, the entire world's history and the racial relations all stem from a god's immensely childish reaction to a gift. I am well aware that many deity lore can be goofy or based on overblown reactions to things, but it feels so thin and flimsy that to prop the whole world and its cultures on top of it could not stand.

> Ableism is pervasive in the culture.

The story starts off with a prologue, which, as a concept, is not inherently a problem, but it was my first clue that this was not the story for me. In this world, being disfigured in any way physically marks you as an agent of the chaos god. Either these agents are killed or ostracized in order to better mitigate any mischief and evil they may commit or bring to their community. We are immediately thrust into this intensely ableist world with the birth of a child missing a hand and part of a forearm. The parents are killed and the baby taken to the woods to die.

I hate it already.

The author, being the sort of person to review their own book, states in his lengthy review: "Whatever you do, don't think for a moment that I'm blind to the tropes I've chosen to use. They serve a purpose and are conscious choices."

If this is the case—that he's aware of his tropes and they are purposeful—he must also be aware of the statement he's making by having all disabled and disfigured be labeled as evil ne'er-do-wells. Because this story takes place almost entirely within the small town of Chaenbalu where these beliefs are rampant, we're lead to believe that this is the way the whole world works. We get one glimpse of the outside world where it mentions a larger prevalence of disabled and disfigured individuals, but it's so brief and not at all explored that our understanding of the world goes mostly unchanged.

Is this part of Call's subversion of tropes? Perhaps Chaenbalu is indeed a backwards town, holding on to old traditions that the rest of the world has left behind, but the characters are so isolated they wouldn't know—and therefore we don't know whether that's the case. Bad news: It's so distasteful that I'm not interested in reading more to find out if it's just Chaenbalu that's the issue. I'm so put off by the whole concept.

> Every female character is cardboard, and they all die.

Centered in Chaenbalu is the Academy, a school with two gendered factions: the witwomen and the Master Avatars. (You'll notice that the sexism starts right off the bat with the fact that Masters get capitalized but witwoman does not.) The witwomen are trained midwives and kidnappers, sent out into the world to collect children and bring them back to the Academy as a "reap" or class of new students. The students are told that their parents submitted them to the Academy's care in a boarding-school-type thing, but that's spoiled in the prologue as being untrue.

Unfortunately, we don’t get a chance to really explore what it is the witwomen are up to, or what any of the women are like. There is only one female character with any amount of on-screen time, and even that is negligible. She acts as nothing more than a plot device, which I’ll talk about later, functioning only as an object for the main character to lust after. Anytime she is described, it is with delicate detail paid to her soft, plump, pink lips, the breasts, the hips. At every turn, she’s sexualized—and perhaps that’s due to the main character’s gaze being the narration we receive, but even in the epilogue scene when our main character is not present, the author continues to describe her this way, so perhaps it’s not a function of the main character at all. She receives no further development than who her father is, what her body is like, and how much she dislikes those marked by Keos, aka, the disabled and disfigured.

The other witapprentices and witwomen appear for two scenes, and by the end of the book, they are all dead in the midst of an attack on the Academy that serves only to move the main character's story forward. Without this attack, he would never have a story worth telling in a book. Without their deaths, the attack would not have happened. And even the romantic interest is faux-killed in order to provoke a specific emotional reaction in the main character to move the character's development forward.

> The characters are shallow.

While I can't guarantee that this problem is due to the two-dimensional worldbuilding, I personally feel they're probably related. There are a couple of friend characters around and a mentor that are all lacking in development, but let me focus on the main character.

The male students train at the Academy with the goal of becoming avatars, and then later, Master Avatars. As avatars, they are expected to go out on secret missions to retrieve magical artifacts and, if the artifact is a "dark artifact,"—that is, if it's built to do harm to another person, and by lore belongs to Keos—murder its owner.

The main character is one such student, testing to become an avatar, and worse yet, if he doesn't pass his test this go-around, he'll never be able to become an avatar and he'll instead be relegated to steward status, taking care of the upkeep of the Academy. And of course, no one wants to be a steward! You'd be a servant to everyone, and where's the action-packed fun in that?

But our main character has a motivation even more powerful than the dread of being a steward: a girl. Not just any girl. The headmaster's daughter.

To be fair, this book is not advertised as a romance. Which is good, because it's not a romance. The main character has a deadly crush. He even has a promise ring forged, ready to give it to her when he passes his test and becomes an avatar. His love for this girl is so powerful for him that it's quite literally all he thinks about, but because she's the headmaster's daughter and is also a witapprentice, he hardly ever sees her, and the times we do get them in the same scene, it's plain this relationship will literally never work out.

She may not know about his missing half an arm thanks to a magical prosthetic, but it's clear she holds on to the old ableist traditions with positive glee and with the same strength as a hippo's jaw. While our main character pines after her and even eventually when they are engaged, we are telegraphed again and again that it will never last, that she is a horrible person, and that she will never accept him with his missing hand. We know this and we watch the main character acknowledge this so many times that it is a failing of the plot that there is even a chance for her to betray him.

Which she does, of course.

This goes back to the author's assertion that he's aware of his tropes and to trust him in his plan. He sets up a male lead and throws the only female character at him, establishing the possibility for a romance—a common trope—and molds that romance into the core motivation for the male lead. She is his reason for wanting to succeed, and he waxes poetical about how terrible it would be if A) someone else got her first, or B) he didn't pass the test and he couldn't be with her. They must fall in love, yes? The author also tries to convince us that she is a likeable person, a person worthy of his devotion, all the while foreshadowing with a heavy hand that she's, frankly, ableist, racist, and a terrible person who is not at all worthy of his devotion. Ah-hah, a subversion! They are not at all meant to be together!

The problem is that she repeatedly shows her hand as a garbage human in front of him an innumerable amount. We the audience dislike her so intensely that to have her as the main character’s sole motivation is laughable. Perfectly inconceivable. A true weakness in the foundation of the plot that’s so profound that if the story struggled to stand on its weak worldbuilding, it almost certainly cannot stand on this. Her betrayal is so blatantly obvious and inevitable that his surprise is outrageous, and his hurt comes not with sympathy from us but absolute incredulity.

> The author’s prejudices taint the writing, and the writing needs editing.

I won’t talk too much in depth about a scene in which the romantic interest is stunned and the main character performs a grossly sexualized search of her body, but I will point out that later, the author writes, “he relived the seconds they had shared in the shadows...” There was no sharing of moments. She was stunned. There was nothing romantic about it.

Later, the main character is sent out on an assassination mission. The author writes, “He wondered what kind of a man he was about to kill - good or evil, father or bachelor - and whether the man would struggle.” Ah yes, an unmarried man. The opposite of having children. Of course, how silly of me to consider that being unmarried precludes me from having children, or that being married means I must have children.

At another time, a character who is well known to wear an eyepatch is described as “winking at him with his one eye.” I’m sorry, author, but that’s just blinking. I could have given him the benefit of the doubt that perhaps he’d forgotten this character is missing an eye and wears an eyepatch if not for the “with his one eye.” The author knew what he was doing.

These moments aside, many scenes dwell in the melodramatic, letting emotion set the scenes awash in a horribly garish light that fails to give the scenes their weight. The point of view was pretty tight to the main character, but with odd moments where it split away to document events that happened outside of that character’s view, even within scenes where the main character is present. It felt a bit sloppy. Passive voice is rampant, with sentences and whole scenes in dire need of better editing. “Myjun was walking in step with her father...” “His flyssa was caught by Annev’s flamberge...” It made the writing dull—hobbled by too many words that meant too little, and too specific of words amidst their plain neighbors that made it dissonant.

> The plot is overstretched.

This book is 576 pages. At page 250, something occurred that made me think that perhaps I’d just witnessed the inciting incident and that now the plot would begin. At page 330, I thought the same thing. At page 400, I thought the same thing. At page 525, I realized with a jolt that I was witnessing what this book would consider the climax, and I could put what happened at page 400 the inciting incident. Until that point, there was no clear indication of what the plot actually was, and there were at least 300 pages of unnecessary story.

I understand from a bit of research that this is intended to be the first of a four part series. Realizing that puts the entire plot of this book into perspective. This climax is the point of no return for the series, with a 500-page lead up. With a bit better editing and a cleaner line, this book could have been immensely less frustrating. Perhaps all these things that bother me are the point of the book—perhaps the next books in the series will overthrow some of these expectations as the main character ventures outside Chaenbalu and sees what the rest of the world is really like. Perhaps.

Do I trust that the author will do that? No.

Am I interested enough to continue reading this series to see if it gets better? No. Do I hope it does? Sincerely. I may not like the author, and I may not have liked this book, but there are people who do and I respect that. I hope it meets their satisfaction. It’s not for me.

Do I regret reading this over the last month instead of the book I was reading and will go back to reading? Surprisingly, no. I hated it, don’t get me wrong, but I also learned a lot about why I hate it—what made it not work—and I think there’s value there, too.

[kichimiangra]

I only needed 5 minutes...

A story of my day.

I Dunno who actually wants to read this? I wouldn't even want to. But I feel like I need to vent. The last couple of weeks have been fucked... but yesterday I ruined the day... again. I've been doing that alot lately. Almost every other Saturday since August. I hope venting makes me feel better if nothing else. I'll probably delete this later because I don't like leaving a notable paper trail of this stuff that anyone can find. Nothing but trouble comes of that. When I'm on my pc I'll put this under a read more because I dunno how to do that on mobile.

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The Holidays are almost over and I am running out of time to get done. One thing in particular, a gift, is unfortunately gone. My mom has orchestrated all of Christmas, even down to the gifts other people are getting for her... and she's not happy about it. She feels like nobody is willing to lift a finger to help her make Christmas happen. I wanted to surprise her.

She loves making soap. I'm not good at sculpture but I wanted to make a custom soap mold for her. I began with the original that would be used to make the mold. It took days upon days of trying and retrying to get it satisfactory, including one failure where my momnpoked her head in and I slammed my chin down on it so she wouldn't see, though my dad swears my mom never pokes her head into my room... but like she does???

Anyway... I finally had my original, though I think I could do better there's not much time left. I ordered a silicone mold kit and went to work... and it failed immensely. BUT there's still a little time left! I'll order another. Now THIS time was frustrating.

My mom wasn't being nosy... but literally EVERYTIME I got the stuff out to work on she would be there by sheer coincidence! Wait until she's asleep? Dad will have a coughing fit and wake her up and she'll wander out into the kitchen. Wait until she's out of the house? She never leaves. Wait until she does? She forgot something and comes home unexpectedly and I have to quickly hide my shit. She's not doing it on purpose but it gets more and more frustrating that I just can't just fucking get this done! Like... Jeebus Christmas! My dad says this doesnt happen but... it does????? And then I fuck up my second attempt. Fuck... I have less time...

But that's okay! I have enough time to order another kit! I've only spent 80$ so far with nothing to show but third times a charm!!!

Once again I just can't get the time to get this done. She's always there, or up, or poking her head in. It's almost cartoonish! But I have not time left. It has to be today.

My folks go down for an afternoon nap and I immediately get to work. I get toward the end of working, all's going well. I only need 5 minutes...

Then my dad gets up and my moms not far behind. Fuck... I can't move the mold yet... fuck. I just need 5 fucking minutes! I'm wrestling with curious cats. Fuck... My dad is useless at maybe luring my mom away. Fuck... my mom insists she needs to be in that same corner I'm working at. Fuck...! I just need five minutes!!!

Then of course disaster strikes... there's a crack or a hole in my original and silicone is leaking out! I had barely enough silicone to even make this happen! I can't afford to lose anymore! Fuck! I need to fix this! I just need 5 minutes to fix this!

I'm getting frustrated to the point I am starting to do that angry sob thing. I take it to another room now that I can move it. I just need 5 minutes to fix this! My parents follow my to the other room to find out what's wrong. Honestly my dad knows what I'm trying to do so given the context what do you thing is wrong dad? Clearly something has gone wrong with my mold. I tell him to go away cuz really I'm trying to fix this and I need to be left alone. I need five minutes to fix this... but he won't leave until I tell him what's wrong. I try to whisper it to him, the mold is leaking, I don't have enough silicone, nowhere local sells it, I can't get more in time. But his hearing has gone so he can't hear what I'm saying! He wants me to speak up but mom is just around the corner in the other room! I need him to fucking go. I'm frustrated and I tell him rudely "Just fuck off! I have to fix this!" Rude and inappropriate I know... but I just need 5 fucking minutes to fucking fix this I am sobbing at this point.

My dad leaves but of course my mom comes in next and wants to know what's wrong. I'm being very curt with her using my body to block the sight of my mess, telling her as calmly as I can, which isnt very calm, that nothings wrong, no she cant help me fix it, I'll tell her later, go back to the kitchen. I don't swear at my mother. That is important. I just need 5 minutes to fix this!

Finally the leak stops but so much silicone is on my baking tray that the mold is no longer submerged. I use a plastic spoon to get as much as I can back in the mold but it's not enough. I'm covered in silicone up to my wrist, and it's also in my hair. I put it up on a high shelf because the cats helped ruin mold #2 and sit down to mourn the loss of the only gift I had for my mom. I had no backup plans and this ones a bust.

I just need 5 minutes to calm down. I was rude to my parents and need to apologize to them, but first I need 5 minutes to just calm down and breath. Maybe I can find another gift in time? Maybe I can just wrap the original and promise in the nearish future when I can procure more silicone that she will have a mold? First I need to calm down. Then I need to apologize.

My dad comes into the room and chews me out about how rude as I was and how I need to go apologize to my mother. I hate when they do this, now when I apologize it's because I was told to, not because I took the initiative to. My folks can't comprehend I would otherwise apologize if not being told. All I wanted was 5 minutes to calm down.

I go and apologize. I am not the good guy in all of this, I am an adult. An autistic adult but an adult nonetheless, and being rude to my parents was inappropriate regardless. I didn't get my 5 minutes but off to apologize I go. "I'm sorry I lashed out guys. I was doing something, it didn't go my way, I got super frustrated and you guys were just there by coincidence. I didn't mean to lash out." I did mean what I said.

Mom didn't see it that way. My mom is very passive aggressive and honestly I get to be one of the reasons today she hates living here in this house and around us because all we do is "abuse" her physically and verbally. She hates living here and she hates being around us. I apologized again because great. Once again Kacey ruins everything. I need to stop being upset about this shit it's like every other saturday! She continues about how much she hates it here. I leave the room trying and failing not to sob.

My mom also gets up and goes to another room. Whatever she's doing is loud and she's quite verbal about it. I go back to my room, I just need 5 minutes to cry and calm down again. I still have other shit to do for Christmas too.

My mom comes by with a box and puts it on the table, with a sharpie she writes "Christmas soap fail 2020" and tells dad to take it to the basement. For context we had been making soap kits for xmas gifts. I had coworkers who got me gifts. I was dissuaded from buying them much in return because we were makin by the soap gift bags. Those where the soaps... I have nothing in return to give my coworkers. I don't have enough time... all the while my mom is still going off. Later my dad says it wasn't all my fault, he had done something to upset her earlier in the day, then my older sister, I was just the straw that broke the camels back. But honestly in this family it's whatever baby wants; baby gets." And what baby wants is to be mad at me.

I go upstairs and hide in my brother's room. Surprisingly despite the fact that my mom acts like he is one of the only people who care about her and defend her, he was the first one to tell me "Fuck her. If she wasn't going to be mad at you it was going to be something else. Now watch me play Aladdin on Sega genesis!"

After a while my younger sister came over to do her laundry. I began to quietly tell her what the flippity floop she walked in on. In the middle my mom came out and started chewy us out. Y'know, don't let her interrupt us from talking privately amongst ourselves about how much of a bitch she is. Her words not mine. And to be fair I was telling my sister about how I lashed out and caused this. But my mom doesn't like when we sibs talk privately, though she also doesn't like if we overhear what her and my dad talk about privately. Double standards I know.

I thought maybe if I explained what was up maybe she'd understand? So I out myself. I was trying to make her a surprise gift. She orchestrated ALL of Christmas and I just wanted to surprise her. Everything started going wrong and I was getting frustrated because she woke up and entered the room at an AWFUL time and I couldn't get me and my wip gift away from her seeing which made everything worse. Now one thing to know about my mom, explaining oneself is equated to excusing your behavior... and she does not tolerate that. She chews me out more. I'm sobbing again.she insists I told her to fuck of and get away from me... even though I did NOT curse at my mom... at all. I was rude but I did NOT say that! I repeat that I had just wanted to surprise her. She tells me about how unsurprised she is that this is how her day ends. She tells me that she doesn't want whatever trinket I was making for her because now it's tied up in the baggage of having apparently told her to fuck off and get away from me, that she doesn't want another in a long line of ass-kissy gifts because that makes being rude to her okay. It wasn't an ass kissy gift in response to being rude to her... it was a custom made Christmas gift for her... because I thought she'd be surprised? Because I thought it'd make her happy? Though I guess it doesn't matter... she doesn't want it anymore. She doesn't care what it was. Now it is a bad reminder of me treating her like everyone in her whole life has except specifically people who are dead. I have ruined quite a few things.

Honestly... I love my mom. I love her so much and I wish she could be happy. I want to do things to make her happy. But when she tells me that I am just one of the things that make her wanna run away to another state and tell no ody where she went and love alone... I'm not gonna sugar coat it, I wish I was dead.

I am a 29 year old autistic woman. I feel like a failure at growing up. I have stressed part of my colon into not working anymore. I still live at home with my parents and work in a minimum wage fast food job. I have few friends and I speak to them infrequently, but if you are at a place where I call you friend... we could not talk for 10 years and your still my friend until officially broken up. I surround myself with animals and I play with a digimon tamagotchi. My sisters have grown up jobs and drive and live in an apartment away from home and I feel like a failure because I missed all these adulting milestones. I feel CONSTANTLY guilty about everything. I feel like I can't say "hey let's do a shark mermaid themed charity zine and all the proceeds can go to buying preservatives for Rosie the dead great white shark!!!" Without the guilt at the mere idea that someone will tell me "Wow... you care more about a dead shark than say... real living people? You know there's no water in Flint right???" Without feeling guilty that... yes? I like a dead shark more than living people? I don't like people? Also shark is cool? I feel guilty that if I call a day off work SOMEONE ELSE has to be inconvenienced to work my shift. I feel guilty playing World of Warcraft because I'm accused of "Chasing a time I view as better" instead of growing up and moving on. I feel guilty about wanting to ask for someone else's time because they too have shit to do. I feel guilty about so many things...

And I feel guilty when my mom says I'm just another abuser in her life. Her fuse is so short it takes almost nothing to set her off. You have to be calm and happy all the time or she has to "walk on eggshells because anything she does can set US off!"

When my mom is mad at me like that... I hate myself. I have some dark thoughts on a normal day but when she's mad at me in this specific way... I wish I could just unexist. Or go to sleep and just not wake up. I can always logic my way away from the dark thoughts... but they're there nonetheless. And when I'm one of the things that makes my mom want to run away? Then I just wish I was dead really. Or just unalive. Not since I was 14 at least. I don't want to die. Just cease to be. I don't know if that counts as being suicidal but I'll tag for it anyway.

I don't normally talk about this shit with people. I don't wanna look like I'm crying out for attention or help or pity. I don't talk to my folks about it because there's never a good time. When I try to hint it's not taken seriously, and when things aren't bad I don't feel as bad. Keeping quite hasn't made me feel better so maybe just typing this out and being heard will make me feel even slightly better? Like a diary entry.

There's more to the morbs in my life but for now I leave it as this. It's 7am, I am in bed and have dried silicone in my hair and under my nailes, and I have work today. Who knows, maybe it'll all blow over like it never happenned like the bipolar way things go in my family sometimes. Maybe I'll get out of work and my folks will be happily dancing in the livingroom to sugar pie honeybunch like teenagers in love and I will be the only one stressed about it.

Don't take this post at face value. This is only my side. The human brain is flawed and the human ego will remake memories to protect itself. I normally turn to siblings who where there at the time to tell me if what I think happenned really happenned that way.... but I've also been informed that my siblings don't want to deal with me, and don't have the balls to call me out on my bullshit so will tell me whatever I want to hear, so really... I don't even trust that my recount of events even happenned that way.

Maybe I'll continue the story in another post?

And now

I go to bed. Goodnight. I am a tired bitch. I probably only just need 5 minutes to fall asleep.

P.s. I'm sorry if you read all that. It's a bummer. I know. I'll hide it under a read more when I'm on pc.

[minnuet-archive]

Boring

Rating: G

Trigger Warnings: None (that I can think of- let me know if you find anything)

Word Count: 1,632 

Fan-fiction or Original Work? Original Work

Story Type: Short Story

Notes: I wrote this in response to the required prompt— ‘write about someone that’s opposite of you in any way’— that I needed to have along with my portfolio to get into an art high school for creative writing. I got in, so that’s good! Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

Bill doesn’t do much. Every day, at 6:30 AM, his alarm goes off and he gets out of bed. He puts on slacks, a white button-up, a colorful tie, and a blazer to match his slacks. 

He then uses his beloved coffee maker to make instant Nescafe coffee, which isn’t good but does the job. He pulls open a drawer and takes a spoon out so he can add a spoonful of artificial sugar before throwing the used utensil in the sink.

Finally, he puts on his socks and Ecco dress shoes before grabbing his ‘#1 Employee’ mug (which he bought for himself) and walking out the door. 

Today is no different than any other day for simple Bill. As he walks into his office, he waves at his coworkers with a bright smile. Not a single one of them seems nearly as happy as he does.

Sitting down at his desk, he opens an excel spreadsheet. Numbers are written and deleted, emails are sent and received, and he doesn’t mind a single second of it. When he looks up from his computer to take a sip of his coffee, he sees a woman standing outside his cubicle.

“Hi, Marianne! How’s your day treating you?”

She grins at him although he’s not quite sure why. “It’s treating me pretty well. How’s your day going?”

“Good as always!” Bill laughs lightly as he raises his coffee mug to show her how much coffee is helping his day. He wonders if she got the joke.

“That’s nice. Actually, I wanted to ask you something. A few friends of mine are going out to get a few drinks and some food after work. You want to come along?” Bill’s eyebrows furrow for a moment as he contemplates why she would ask him to come along. Suddenly, he remembers that he was planning on eating a microwave dinner of chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, and corn. 

He can’t help but sigh in content. “I wish I could. I’ve been looking forward to heating up my favorite frozen meal all day!”

Her face drops and she nods her head. “Have a good rest of your day, Bill.” When she left, she had looked a little bit disappointed, but Bill can’t put his finger on why.

Shrugging his shoulders, he looks back to his screen. Around the bottom of his computer, he sees a glowing purple light. Luminescent, it intrigues him. As he goes to move his computer, he hears the familiar chime of an email appearing in his inbox. His attention turns to the home page of his Gmail account once again and he dismisses the purple light without a second thought.

Emails later, he stands up to stretch, getting ready for his lunch break. He feels a vibration coming from his front pocket. 

Bill pulls out his phone to get a better look at who’s calling. In place of a phone number, there’s a single word.

ADVENTURE

He squints at the letters, confused as to why ‘Adventure’ is listed as the phone number. After five whole seconds of careful consideration, he decides that it must be a spam call and presses the button to decline it.

Slipping his pen and pad of paper into his bag, he takes a few steps out of his cubicle. As the confidence he shows would suggest, this is his routine.

Heading to the break room, he whistles to the tune of It’s A Small World.

Eugene stands in the break room, making himself a cup of coffee. Bill grins widely at him and Eugene waves at him. “Hey, Bill,” Before Bill can respond, he adds on. “Oh! I have something for you if you want it.”

Walking over to Eugene, Bill tries to peek and see what he has for him. “I made muffins with my wife the other day and we didn’t finish them. They’re a little bit old, but I think they’re still good. Do you want one?”

His eyes are practically glowing as he stares at the muffin. “It looks amazing! I’d love to take it!” He looks up at him.

As Eugene holds his hand out for Bill to take the muffin, Bill smiles gently at him and looks into his eyes. They stop for a moment and Eugene’s eyes contain a sense of longing (not that Bill notices). Bill takes the muffin and stands up straight again.

“Thanks, Eugene!” He spins around to the table and sits down, peeling the saran wrap off the muffin. 

Eugene looks like he has mixed feelings, but hides it well with a grin and walks out of the room. “Have a good day, Bill.” 

As Bill continues to eat his (most likely several) day-old muffin, he remembers his cat at home and becomes visibly excited to see him later.

Is Earl missing me? I hope he isn’t too worried! Thinking of Earl, he pulls out his phone to check the kitty cam he had installed. When he opens the app, he finds Earl lying lazily atop a grey couch covered in white cat hair (Earl had claimed it as his own and there was no going back).

He smiles lightly at Earl before putting away his phone and grabbing an apple and a slice of leftover pizza from his bag. The pizza is cold, dry, and hard, but Bill doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seems to enjoy it.

After eating the rest of his lunch, he sits back down at his desk, ready to work and do as much as he can.

Around 6:30 pm, as he exits the building, he begins to think once again of his microwave dinner at home. 

A wondrous sunset of yellow, orange, pink, and purple is painted across the sky and Bill stops to appreciate it for a second. When he looks back to the street in front of him, he adjusts himself and starts walking towards the side of the street. 

Despite not being built in any way, he has no trouble walking down narrow alleyways and waving at people surrounded by plumes of smoke. 

As he marches down the sidewalk of Maple Street, approaching his house, something brushes against his leg. He turns to see what it was, but finds nothing. Confused, he turns back around and catches a glimpse of a small creature scampering around the corner. 

The creature looked like it had been sparkling. It must have been the little guy’s collar. “Poor animal. I hope it finds a home!” He smiles sadly and begins to unlock the big glass door in front of his apartment complex. 

He spots the clerk sitting at the front desk and acknowledges him with a wave before entering the elevator. He presses the number five and whistles to himself as the floor moves below him. The red carpet muffles the sound of his footsteps and he unlocks the last door he’ll need to for the rest of the day. 

After heating up his microwave dinner and opening it up, he walks to his couch and plops himself down next to Earl. 

He eats in silence, but not in sadness, as he scratches Earl’s neck and ears. Without warning, he hears a voice. “We’re supposed to leave you alone, but I just can’t. I need to know why.” Her (he assumes she’s a her) voice is velvety and smooth, but also has a whimsical sort of feeling. 

For whatever reason, he sees a picture in his head of a quaint cottage made of soft light. Bill cranes his neck to see who could possibly be the owner of the voice and finds a woman with auburn hair down to her thighs. 

Her eyes look as if they’re made of melted gold— and they very well may be— and her freckles are stunning. But Bill isn’t phased. “Why what?”

She rolls her eyes in annoyance. “We’ve spent all day giving you ways to get away from reality. We went through a lot of work to give someone with a boring life a chance to have fun. But you didn’t even try to cooperate! You literally declined a call to adventure. I just need to know why.”

He nods his head slightly, finally understanding why today had been so off. “My life not being your ideal life doesn’t make it boring.”

She looks taken aback. “What?”

“You called my life boring and said you tried to help give me a chance to have fun. The thing is, whether or not you agree, I don’t think my life is boring. I love my life. I don’t need help or a call to adventure.”

“I don’t understand.” She looks sincerely lost as she looks at him. In comparison, he seems sure of himself.

His eyes are soft and caring as he speaks. “I don’t hate my job. I love numbers so it’s great to be able to work with them all day. My microwave dinner might look gross to you, but I enjoy it.”

Her face is flooded with understanding and she makes an ‘oh’ shape with her mouth. “I think I get it now.”

“I’m not oblivious to Marianne and Eugene— I just don’t think I need love in my life. At least not that kind of love and at least not right now. It might not be your definition of a good life, but it’s mine and that’s all that matters.”

She puts her hand on his shoulder for a few seconds before taking it off again. “Okay. I think I understand. I hope you keep doing what makes you happy. I’ll make sure to come back and visit sometime.”

He nods his head. “I’m looking forward to it.” With that, she dissipates and the apartment is once more wrapped in silence.

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[who-is-reign]

Hello, hi, hey

Hi I did a short writing thing- here it is!!

Everything starts with a hello, a hi, a hey. A greeting of some kind. Ours started with something else. It started with a trip, a lot of apologies, and crying. Though I feel like I should probably start at the beginning. That makes more sense anyway.

It all started on what I knew was not going to be a normal day. The day started with two pieces of toast, 3 slices of peaches, and a mug of earl grey tea. Or what I was hoping to be a mug of earl grey tea. I poured the rest of what was left of my mug into a thermos and walked out the door. 

3 stairs, take a left, 5 steps forward to the next stairwell. 10 steps down, 5 breathes, 2 stops I could have taken, 7 doors I could see. I ran to my car, even if it was only 5 feet away. 

30 minutes and a coffee stop later, I was at work. I work at a publishing firm as the executive editor. I have been there since the start of this company, Indigo Query. I helped with the name of course. Most of the books that I edited are Best Sellers right now. I can’t say I’m not proud of that. 

Today is the release date of the first book I wrote. I have babied this book for 4 years. All of the characters are complex and have their own stories. I tried to make it to where there weren’t any background characters. To where there were stories going on behind the scenes, or the main focus of the chapter. It is 1563 pages, 12 pt. Times New Roman font, 468900 words. This book is my literal child. I have had these characters since I was in 6th grade. I only started seriously writing out their story in the last 4 years. 

I just realized that you know nothing about me. Maybe that’s for the best. You’ll find out later anyway.

I walked in, went through the cafe, up the elevator, through the small library. I was there, and my book was there. On my desk, I saw a hardcover copy of my book. I almost started crying. Okay, I did start crying. That art was my choice, it was made by one of my oldest friends. I carefully picked up the book, letting my hands run over the almost woven texture of the cover, the embellished sides, and the title. Lastly, my name, small in white coloring. I turned to the copyright page and breathed in. My name is listed as the author and editor. My best friend’s listed as the cover artist. This is what I was meant to do. Write books, edit books, publish books.

I put the book down, I couldn’t read it. Not yet. I needed to meet with Leo Adams, president of the company. He is not the original president, he took over after the old president passed. I personally am not a fan of his. I think he is corrupt and doesn’t deserve the company. The only thing I can hope is that one day this company, my home, will get a better president. The only reason I stayed with this company, is because of my book. I could leave if I wanted to, other publishing companies have asked if I wanted to sign for them. 

But I have something in my eyes, something I can’t give up. I want to own Indigo Query. I want to own the thing I love more than anything. This company is my life, my livelihood. I hate seeing a man who doesn’t care about books be in charge of it. I need to save the company I have over a decade of time into. But right now, it is my time. My book is getting released.

I need to focus on that and nothing else. I need to work, that’s what I need to do. What I want doesn’t matter right now, and it won’t matter for a while. 

I walked as fast as a caffeinated lesbian could without it being considered running to Leo’s office. 

“Ms. Kore, it’s fantastic to see you. And of course congrats on the book release, it looks fantastic already.” Leo’s words drawled on, a slight curve to his phrases. I hated it.

“Of course sir, I couldn’t have had this book released without you,” I replied, trying desperately to keep the ill intent out of my voice. 

What I didn’t say, was that of course, I couldn’t have had this book released without you. Even with you, there were so many issues with getting it released. Including the date getting pushed back 6 months. I could have had this book out, and sold by now. But no, he said it was too problematic. It took all of the editors, our cover designers, the VP of the company, and basically everyone to get him to allow it to be sold. 

“Though Ms. Kore, I must tell you, I really do not think this book will thrive that much. I just do not want to see you getting hurt. Take the day off, you need to.” I almost scoffed once he said that, but I really only muttered thank you and walked out of the office.

I practically ran to one of my coworker’s desks and sighed completely and utterly overdramatically. This coworker has been my friend since high school and they helped found the company. They also know about my aspiration to own  Indigo Query.

“Oliver, I can’t believe him. He literally said that he didn’t think my book would work out and that he just didn’t want me to get hurt.” I groaned and tried to not sound whiny, though I know I did.

“Babe, that is so horrid but also you are so close to literally owning this company. You are so close, and you can’t lose sight of what you have done because our boss is horrible.” I know they’re right, and I am really close, but I need a break. 

“I’m leaving for the day, Adams said I had to.” I sighed.

“Girl you have been here for less than an hour, sit down.” Oliver raised their eyebrows and practically forced me to sit at my desk.

I just rolled my eyes and got to work on a new manuscript that came in today. It wasn’t long before my eyes felt like they were going to burst from my head. 

“I’m taking a coffee and tea run. Want anything?” I closed the manuscript, my question aimed for Oliver who was holding a red pen and had a red pen tied up in their hair.

“Yes, yes, and yes please darling. You know my order anywhere.” And they were right, their order hasn’t changed since freshman year. Unlike everything else. Oliver used to be really shy, with red curly hair, they didn’t have confidence. And now they talk or flirt with everyone, have longer sunset ombre hair, and have more confidence. I’m proud of them.

I walked out of the building and to the nearest cafe. I ordered Oliver’s, which was a matcha latte with added raspberry syrup, apparently, it was amazing. Then I got a London fog earl grey tea with extra vanilla syrup.

 I noticed the cafe had a small bookstore and I walked over there after ordering. I saw something that warmed my heart, my book. I inhaled deeply in shock, already a small bookstore had my book in it. I grabbed a copy and read through some of it. My words, my characters, my world. I get now why it is such a big deal for Oliver every time they see a book they wrote. I only walked away when I heard my name getting called. I grabbed both of the cups and walked away, saying thank you many times.

Close to the door, the not so impossible happened. Someone ran into me, my tea spilled everywhere. Oliver’s drink ended up being safe somehow. 

“I am so sorry, I can’t believe myself, I’m so sorry. Deeply sorry. Let me help.” The person who ran into me sputtered out.

“Don’t be sorry it was an accident, it is okay,” I say looking at them softly.

They had hair a little bit longer than their shoulders, it was a coppery red. Their eyes were a shade of amber. That was when I realized. 

“Laurette?” I asked, stunned that this may be her.

“Yeah? Do I know-- Persephone!” Laurette hugged me and sighed. “It’s fantastic to see you!”

“Good to see you too. What are you doing these days?” 

“Oh! I’m living with Ophelia with our kid. I’m a fashion designer and she is a daycare owner. So she gets her share of kids every day. What about you?” as Ophelia spoke I could practically feel her love for her wife. 

“That is fantastic! I’m the chief editor and now an author for a publishing company called Indigo Query. My first book got released today actually. I work with Oliver Evanora.” I was filled to the brim with pride. 

“Really? Congrats! I bet the book is amazing! I’ll have to check it out sometime. Tell Oliver I said hi. ” Laurette sighed happily, “Well, it’s been great seeing you, I’m so sorry about the tea. I hope to bump into each other again.” 

I smiled and went back up to the counter to grab the tea they remade, gave them a 10 dollar tip, and left. A newfound pleasure seeped through me. I walked back to the office, careful not to spill anything. I gave Oliver their drink and went straight back to work.

4 hours later and the clock showed 5 pm, the day that I had been waiting for years to happen was over. Since I needed desperately to get home, I made Oliver give me a ride home.

“Why didn’t you drive to work? You have a car.” Oliver asked when they were in their car.

“Because I wanted to walk.” 

“It’s winter, it is dark at like 4. You can’t walk home when it’s dark. We live in a city, girl.”

I just sighed, they were right anyway. I didn’t think it through.

“Want to get food?” They asked, “Cause I am starving!”

“Nah, I’ve got to get home.”

“Ok girl, whatever you deem useful,” Oliver said, already pulling down my street.

“Thank you so much! Oh and by the way Laurette said hi.” I said as I shut the door.

  I went inside and set water on to boil. I started stirring the water clockwise and humming a distant melody. It was almost time. The water started to bubble like an ancient potion that had just been given the final ingredient. I poured the water over a mug, grabbed a tea bag, and let it seep. At this point, the stars were already out and thriving. 

After a quick 5 minutes, I grabbed my mug and walked outside into my backyard. I went directly to my shed. My shed was more of my office than a shed. It had a typewriter, my laptop, a shelf filled with different types of teas or coffee. Plants were scattered about, my desk had a big fluffy white chair pushed up to it. Everything was a pastel blue, pink, or white. It didn’t really seem like it was mine, but it was. And it’s more of a home to me than my room is. 

I sighed as I sat down on my mug, put on gardening gloves, and grabbed my spade. I went outside and started to get to work. I planted a new rose bush, I replanted my lemon tree that's growing out of their pot. I moved my ever-growing cherry tree to where they’ll get better sun. 

All of this I did while humming, or singing in some parts. I am the type of person to sing and talk to my plants. I am also the type of person to own 3 trees and more plants than I can count.

I heard a bang and I flinched, my entire body froze in place, as if any movement would cost me my life.

“Is anyone there?” I whispered, barely to where anyone could hear it.

“Hello, darling” When I heard Oliver’s voice I calmed down, “sorry to scare you babe, but you seem stressed. Thought I’d help.”

“It’s okay, Oli.” I sighed, already putting my spade and gloves away. “So, how did you plan to calm me down?”

“Stargazing with some people from high school,” Oliver replied, smiling.

“Like who?”

“Kira, Raven, Laurette, Ophelia, Lilith--” Oliver was about to continue but I cut them off.

“Okay, I get it, almost everyone. Let’s go.” I said, laughing, “Let me change first.”

Five minutes later I was in Oliver’s car wearing a star printed black layered lace dress and 4-inch heeled black boots.

“Let’s go! I wonder if they all brought their kids! Oh, I can’t wait to see Sabrina or even Litha! I miss my coven friends.” Oliver used to be in a coven at school, it broke up after our senior year.

“Where is the place we’re going anyway?” I asked, playing with my acrylics. 

“It’s only 30 minutes away, a small little cabin. Though, we are staying for a week. I took all the clothes that are yours at my house, it’s enough for 7 days. Plus they all look great.” 

“What about work?!”My yells could probably be heard by our high school friends.

“I got it covered babe, don’t worry,” Oliver said in a sing-song tone. 

“Got it covered? Um, no. My book just got released, I need to be in town.”

“Honey, your book is already almost sold out at 3 stores. I only bought one copy. Your child will be fine.” Oliver sighed as he looked at me, “You need this. More than any of us do. So, I dragged you into the countryside to look at stars and hang out with people from our high school. Don’t you want to see everyone’s kids? I’m pretty sure Ophelia and Laurette are bringing theirs.”

“Okay, fine. I do need this, don’t I?” I pulled out my phone and breathed in.

‘I need this, I need a break. 7 days hanging out with old friends will give that to me.’ I thought as I mindlessly scrolled through twitter.

Then I came across this,

‘Jdjisddsj this book came out today! I already love it! #ScarletDreams #Persephonekore’

“Holy bees, Scarlet Dreams is trending in the literature section on twitter.”

“That’s fantastic, but we’re here.” I looked up and saw a cottage with wildflowers surrounding it, two beehives sitting among the flowers, a few kids running through fields. 

We parked next to where a collection of other cars were. Immediately I was pulled into a hug by Ophelia and Laurette.  

“I missed you!” Ophelia exclaimed as she pulled away, her child pulling at her sleeve.

“I missed you guys too, it’s fantastic to see you.” 

Oliver looked at me, then to everyone and said: “Was I right? Did you need this?”.

I could practically see his fear of him making a mistake, a dark sludge crawling through him, pulling him down and towards his own Tartarus. 

“Yeah Oli, I really did. Work was starting to hurt a little.”

A group of three people left the cabin, they were all holding hands and walking right next to each other.

“Oh, hello. I’m Cassandra. I don’t remember you from high school” She said her last sentence more like an inviting question than a statement.

“Hi, I’m Persephone, I didn’t really talk to many people other than who I knew so I can’t expect you to remember me.” I ended my statement with a small laugh, trying to match her tranquillity.

“Babe, you said there wouldn’t be that many people” The person who spoke was as far behind Cassandra and they could be while still holding her hand.

“I wanted you to come, plus I didn’t that many people would show up, darling.” Cassandra's voice was somehow softer than it was before, it seemed as soft as flower petals blooming out to show a beautiful rose. 

Or rather the sun urging a rose to show it’s own beauty. Cassandra’s red hair had so much volume it seemed to live on its own, like a red fox laid over her shoulder. She was wearing a vintage lace dress that was white with roses on it, you could tell a petticoat was hiding beneath the layers of the dress from how it poofed out. Her cheeks were a rosy red, and her eyes had pink eyeshadow flowing out from them. Her eyeliner wings were sharp enough to stab, and honestly, I wanted her to stab me with them.

As soon as I realized what I was thinking I felt guilty, though I wasn’t sure why.

A voice snapped me out of my thoughts, “Hi, I’m Jade!” said the other person next to Cassandra.

Her hair was a really big fluffy black braid, purple threaded itself through the braid, and blue and green followed. The braid went to her lower back and was tied with what I thought was a gold string. A black mini dress hugged her sides. A light pink fluffy jacket was partially zipped and fell off her shoulders.  The dress went to her lower thighs, then a few inches down my eyes trailed down to her light pink knee-high boots. 

“Take a picture and it will last longer darling,” Jade said, the tone of her voice playful yet held enough flirtiness to send shivers up my spine and turn my face red. 

“Darling, let's not immediately start to flirt with the new girl. Let’s not kill her on the first day here.” Cassandra spoke, her tone matching Jade’s.

The one who has stayed behind Cassandra the entire time stepped forward, appearing to gain confidence from my embarrassment. 

“Why not? She may hold up longer than I did.” They said, their voice was soft yet firm. It held together like a cactus in heavy wind, trying to keep its grip. I felt like that’s the type of person they were, a cactus. Harsh on the outside with spikes and a few flowers to lure you in, but held water and healing on the inside.

I knew my face was painted a shade that countered everything around me and the dress that now seemed to hug me instead of flow around me. Like the petals of a tulip instead of an orchid. My heart sped up and I felt frail, yet held stable by these people who I had only met what seemed hours ago but what I knew was minutes, or even seconds that had just been drawn out to a century. 

Then coughing erupted into my thoughts as Oliver shimmed their way in between me and the group, “Let’s go inside, I need warmth.”

“It’s not even cold” I sighed.

“Whatever,” They said as they already started towards the cottage.

As soon as people realized that Oliver had started to walk away, people hurried to follow them. That was Oliver for ya, they could sure direct a crowd.

[allthingsfangirl101]

An 80's Movie Apology–Noah Centineo

I woke up and groaned when I realized what day it was; my birthday. Most people loved their birthdays. Not me. Every year, it ended in disappointment.

My parents divorced when I was little and since then, my birthday is spent with me going back and forth between houses. I stopped celebrating it once I graduated high school. Until I started dating Noah Centineo.

Noah and I met on the set of The Fosters. He replaced Jake T. Austin as Jesus while I worked on the actors' make-up. We constantly flirted back and forth. At one of our season wrap-up parties, Noah and I got a little drunk and ended up making out in the prop closet. He asked me out the next Monday and we've been dating since the beginning of the next season.

"Tell me again why you're fighting this?" Noah's voice came through the speaker.

"I know that Taylor and Jen and Hailey mean well it's just. . ."

"You refuse to celebrate your birthday," Noah sighed. "Y/N, I thought we talked about this. I know you've hated celebrating it in the past, but the last couple of years have been okay. I mean, I usually take you to dinner and. . ."

"Yeah, well, you aren't here this year." I cut him off. I held my breath when he didn't respond right away.

"My flight gets in on your birthday. I'll be there."

"Your flight gets in at 4 in the morning, babe, and you don't sleep on planes. You're going to be exhausted. You're not going to want to come to a party tired and drained from a red-eye flight."

"I don't care," he laughed. "I'm your boyfriend and as your boyfriend, my job is to try and help you enjoy your birthday."

"Babe," I sighed.

"I'll be there," he cut me off. "I promise."

*********************************

"How can you not want to celebrate your birthday?" Noah laughed as we ate pizza and watched Netflix.

"Because," I sighed. "Everyone makes such a big deal about birthdays, but they always end the same. A disappointment that was celebrated with presents you don't actually need and cake that was half frosting."

Noah looked up at me and sighed. "I'm determined to change that."

That conversation happened about three months into our relationship, the first birthday I celebrated with him and he did change things. He snuck into my house in the morning and made me breakfast in bed. He went with me and paid for me to get my hair and nails done. We had a picnic in the park, went to the farmer's market, saw a movie in the drive-in theater, and had a romantic dinner at my favorite restaurant.

I celebrated two more birthdays with him, each one better than the last. Until this one.

I stood in my kitchen, the house full of my friends, coworkers, and family. My best friends had planned this party for me, even though I tried to convince them not to. They were just trying to keep my mind off the fact that Noah wasn't in town. Even though his flight got in super early and he was technically here, I didn't want him to feel obligated to make a big deal about my birthday.

I took my phone out of my pocket and sighed when there wasn't a single call or text from Noah.

"Why is the birthday girl hiding in the kitchen?"

"I'm not hiding," I said to my best friend as she walked in. She sent me an amused look before glancing down at my phone.

"Still nothing from Noah?"

"No," I sighed. I quickly cleared my throat, adding, "But, you know, his flight got in at 4 am and I told him not to worry about it. I mean, he did promise he would come, but I just figured. . ."

I was unable to finish my sentence as my voice cracked. "Y/N," she sighed. "Come on. This whole party is for you. Get yourself a drink and relax."

"You're right," I sighed, slipping my phone into my back pocket.

"Good!" She giggled. "Come on. Let's go dance."

I spent the rest of the night dancing, laughing, and drinking with my friends. Even though we were having fun, I couldn't help but think about Noah. I found myself constantly checking the door or my phone. I tried to reassure myself that at least he texted me happy birthday before he got on the plane and again when he got off.

By the end of the night, my friends had left and I was cleaning up the random cups around my house.

"I'm sorry," Taylor said. I turned around to see her standing in the doorway, watching me clean up.

"What are you sorry about? I had a great time. It was a fun party."

"I meant that I'm sorry Noah didn't show up. I know he promised. . ."

"It's fine, Taylor. He said he would try." My voice broke as I thought about my boyfriend not showing up to the party I didn't even want to have. "Besides, his flight got in really early this morning and he probably got home and passed out."

"Yeah," she smiled weakly. "I'm sure he has a great explanation and will make it up to you."

"Exactly," I tried to smile. She gave me a hug and wished me a happy birthday before heading home. I sighed as I finished cleaning the living room and headed upstairs to take a shower.

Once I got out, I had just gotten dressed when I suddenly heard music playing from outside my window.

Noah's POV

I woke up to my phone ringing. I checked to see it was around 11 o'clock before answering my phone. "Hello?" I answered, my voice still groggy from sleep.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" I cringed as Taylor, Y/N's best friend yelled at me.

"What do you mean?"

"What do I mean?" She scoffed. "I mean that you promised Y/N you'd come to her birthday party and you never showed. You know how she feels about celebrating her birthday and you didn't show up, Noah."

"Oh shit," I said as I sat up, suddenly wide awake.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Noah, Y/N really loves you, but you screwed up. Big time."

"What the hell am I going to do?" I panicked, running my hand through my hair. "How am I possibly supposed to make it up to her?"

"You need to Say Anything her."

"I need to what?"

"Say Anything," she sighed. "You know? One of Y/N's favorite old movies. How has she not made you watch it a million times? Then again, it is her breakup movie and you guys have been dating for three years."

"Three and a half," I mumbled.

"Anyway," she sighed, "after Diane and Lloyd have their falling out, he shows up to her house and plays her favorite song on a jukebox outside her window. You need to get a speaker, go to her house, and play her favorite song, which is. . ."

"Say You Won't Let Go by James Arthur," I finished.

"Good boy," she laughed. "Now, get your ass to her house and fix this. You should've seen her face, Noah. She was really hurt."

"I know," I sighed. "I can't believe I. . . I came home and just passed out."

"That's what she figured, but you should still go over there."

"I'm on my way," I cleared my throat. "Thanks, Taylor."

"Anytime," she laughed. "Just keep in mind that if you hurt my best friend again, I'll kick you in the balls."

"Noted."

*********************************

I put my car in park, grabbed my phone and Bluetooth speaker, and ran around the side of Y/N's house. I looked up once I was under her window and took a deep breath as I turned on the speaker. I took another deep breath as I pushed play on my phone, James Arthur's voice starting to play. I held my phone and the speaker above my head, holding my breath as I waited for her to come out.

It didn't take long for Y/N's curtains to be pushed aside and her window to open. I smiled as she poked her head out, looking down at me.

"Noah? What are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry I didn't come to the party. I got home and barely made it to my room before passing out. I woke up when Taylor called me, yelling at me for being a dick and not showing up."

She looked down at me, a small smile forming on her lips. I put my phone in my back pocket and the speaker on the grass, the music still playing. "I'm so sorry, baby," I said looking back up at her. "I should've set an alarm or gone right to your house and slept on your bed so you could've woken me up or. . ."

I stopped talking when she ducked back into her room. I was just about to pull my phone out of my pocket and pause the music when I saw Y/N running around the corner. I smiled as she jumped into my arms, instantly wrapping her arms around my neck.

"I'm so sorry, baby." I sighed. "I can't believe I stood you up and. . ."

She pulled out of the hug and cupped my cheeks in her hands, quickly pressing her lips to mine. Our lips moved in sync as the song ended and started playing the next song on my playlist of Y/N's favorite songs.

She pulled away, a smile still on her face. "It's okay," she whispered.

"No, it's not," I sighed. "I love you, Y/N and I. . ."

She reached forward and covered my mouth, shutting me up. "I love you too," she said before pressing her lips to mine again. I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her closer to me as our lips continued moving against each other.

This time, I was the one who pulled away from the kiss. "Do you have plans for tomorrow?" I asked, making her laugh.

"Nope," she shrugged, still laughing slightly.

"Well, now you do," I smirked down at her as I tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "I am going to spend the entire day making it up to you for forcing you to go through your birthday party alone. We will do whatever you want, spending literally all day together."

"I like that idea," she said as she tightened her arms around my neck. She bit her lip, her cheeks turning red. "We could," she cleared her throat, glancing at her window, "we could start right now."

"Now, I definitely like that idea." I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers. I pulled away with a smirk on my lips.

"Happy birthday, baby."

[princessplantasaurus]

A Part 2

Part two of this

Quentin Beck x Female OC Sometime after Iron Man 2 but before Age of Ultron (but we’re getting closer to Ultron now) OBVIOUSLY spoilers for Spider-Man: Far From Home

Content warning: alcohol, strong language, LOTS of sexuality including vaginal fingering, hair pulling, blowjobs, voyeurism, insertional intercourse  Previously:  So more often than not, she did her best to pretend it never happened. Pretend her only contact with him was that day in the break room. Which would’ve been made much easier, if he wasn’t suddenly taking all his breaks at the same time she was, eyes always on her, as if studying her every move. In a way, it was degrading, and yet...it was almost exhilarating. Like a game of cat and mouse. And god, did she ever want him to pounce on her already. But Beck was still waiting, still calculating. He was going to pounce, but the moment, of course, had to catch her off guard.

This didn’t make the weeks leading up to the company Christmas party any less stressful for Veronica. Of course, the holidays were a stressful enough time on their own, without the constant thoughts of Beck in the back of her mind. So when the night of the party did roll around, Veronica’s only plan for the evening was drinking just enough that things got blurry and then finally letting go, relaxing, having a good time.

This plan got spoiled before she even had a chance to finish her first flute of champagne. Swaggering up with a flute of champagne in each of his hands, Quentin raised an eyebrow at her glass, taunting “Looks like I arrived just in time.”

Eyebrows knitting in confusion, she questioned “What are you-”

She was cut off by the gesture of him outstretching an arm, wiggling the champagne flute enough to get her attention, but not enough so that any of the drink spilled. “Here. It’s for you. I got it for you.”

Veronica glanced carefully between her drink and the one in his hand, up to him, and then back to her own drink. Acting on impulse and deciding it best to trust him, she quickly downed what was left of her initial drink, before coyly questioning “Are you trying to get me drunk?” while taking the second drink out of his hand.

“Maybe.” he smirked, but in such a way that only one side of his mouth twitched upwards. Bringing his eyes away from her for the first time since he made his way over, he took a sip of his own, carefully glancing back out into the sea of partying Stark employees, before he questioned “You still sleeping with Stark?”

With a huff, she snapped her head towards him, stating clearly and aggressively “I never was. And I’m still not.”

The sideways glance he gave her was cautious, calculated, and reeked of curiosity “Potts? Didn’t tag you as playing for that team.”

“I’m not sleeping with anyone.” she corrected, with a roll of her eyes, but it was jovial. Unlike the last time they’d spoken, this didn’t seem serious, not a legitimate accusation of her character. Two coworkers joking around, shooting the breeze.

“No one at all, huh?” he questioned, before giving her the classic once over, biting down on his lip before pretending he hadn’t just made such an obvious move, shrugging as he looked back out to the party, mumbling “What a shame.” as his champagne got closer to his lips.

Cheeks flushing intensely, Veronica managed to stutter out “Excuse me?!?”

“I’m just saying” Quentin shrugged casually. “I’m sure a lot of people at this company would gladly trade promotional favors for sexual ones if you were the one offering.”

“Why do I have to be sleeping with someone to get ahead in the company in this scenario?” she questioned “Can’t I just be sleeping with someone cause I’m attracted to them? No strings attached?”

In retrospect, Quentin sitting his drink down and actively walking away from it should’ve been her first clue to where the rest of the night was headed. With a shake of his head a low chuckle, he countered “Oh no, sweetie, that opens up your sexual availability to the likes of me, and you don’t want that.”

“What makes you think you know what I want?” she teased, batting her eyelashes, still assuming this was all a game “Maybe I want that. Maybe I want you.”

With a breathy exhale of “You shouldn’t have said that”, suddenly Veronica’s senses were flooded with nothing but Quentin. Quentin’s hands on her face, his cologne in her nostrils, his beard just lightly scratching the area around her mouth, how surprisingly soft and wet and warm his lips were, the moan he let escape as she dropped her drink, letting her hands rake through his hair, kissing him back just as passionately and urgently as he kissed her.

And then...then they were in a cab. She couldn’t remember when they left, where they were going or how they got there. She remembered still being at the party when his tongue slipped inside her mouth the first time, and then...a lustful haze...and then Quentin’s predatory growls of pleasure as he bit at her neck, hand up her skirt and clawing at her thigh, brushing the silk of her panties just often enough to elicit a sharp gasp.

All it took was his other hand, the one that had been cradling her neck, to slip farther down as he attempted to fondle her breast as best as possible given that her dress was still covering her up, for her to finally break. “MMMM! Fuck!” she cried, causing him to cease the trail of hickeys he was leaving on her neck, lifting his head up to look at her as she whimpered “I need...please…”

Lifting both hands, and practically glowing in the shock that caused her, he touched her again, but only with one finger, to tilt her head to look him in the eye “What do you need, Veronica?”

“I need you…”

“Need me to what?” he continued to play dumb, but in such an obvious way that it was impossible for her to misunderstand why. He was loving every second of this.

“T-touch…”

“I’m already touching you, Veronica. Did you want me to touch you somewhere else?”

“You know…” she whined.

“But I don’t.” he shrugged. “You’ll have to tell me.”

She really didn’t want to say it. The cab driver could hear her. Having gone as far as they had with someone else present was already voyeuristic enough. But he was locking those beautifully blue eyes with hers, wide and full of feigned naivety, nodding at her to go on. “My pussy.” she mumbled, embarrassed.

“Do what with your pussy?” he questioned. “Use your words, Veronica. Full sentence. Come on.”

“I want you to finger my pussy, Quentin,” she hissed “fuck.”

“Is that all?” he smirked, lifting her skirt back up and sneaking his hand up and under the silk undergarment, rubbing it gently, at first, as Veronica threw her head back in pleasure. “That wasn’t so hard, was it? Just gotta ask for what you want, honey. I’ll give it to you.”

And with that, he did give it to her. One finger, at first, just to gauge her reaction, but then pulled out and reentered with two. “I didn’t take you for such a whore, Veronica. Good girls don’t like getting fingered in the back of a dirty cab. But you’re not a good girl, are you?” he paused, as if to see if she was going to argue, but the only noises she made were her laboured breathing and a lot of short cries of pleasure as fingers continued to thrust inside of her. “No, you’re my little whore. Say it. Say you’re mine, whore.”

“Quentin…” she moaned, as she felt it was all she could do.

“Come on,” he urged. “Full sentences, remember?”

“I’m your little whore” she whimpered, almost crying from just how close she was to release, and just how good he was at edging her there.

And then she felt it. His other hand rubbing against her clit. God, she was close. She could literally feel it coming. Any second now. 

“Mmmm, good job.” he smirked.

And Veronica hated to admit that his praise is what did her in, but it did.

And thank goodness, because as she began to come down from her climax, the cab slowed to a stop. As she sat back up and yanked her skirt back down, she saw Quentin pay the driver, and assumed that this was, in fact, their stop. She opened the door to find that they were in Battery Park City, in front of one of the neighbourhood’s more modest looking apartment complexes.

As the taxi drove away, Quentin pulled keys out of his pocket, and then wrapped his arm around her waist with his free hand. “You’ve got to have your fun. Now it’s my turn.”

She giggled with excitement as he lead into the building, climbing the stairs to the second floor. The top of the stairwell, he decided was as good of place as any to kiss the hell out of her again, and Veronica wasn’t exactly resisting. Letting his lips travel south to her jaw, and then her neck, he mumbled “I don’t know if I can make it to my apartment.”

And as much as there was a very active part of Veronica’s brain that wanted to agree and let him take her right then and there in the stairwell, she had also already been fingered to climax in the back of a cab, and she didn’t want to make a habit of the whole public thing, god forbid she might discover that it had awakened something. “How far is your place?” she asked, the fingers previously combing through his hair giving a slight tug.

“Four doors down.” he admitted.

“That’s not far,” she reasoned. “And then you can do whatever you want to me.”

He chuckled, almost darkly, as he countered “I was planning on that anyway, sweets.”

And with a sudden yank of her hand, they were in the hallway, in front of his door, his hand only leaving hers to fumble with his keys, but as soon as the door was open, his hands were on her waist, the door was slammed behind them, and he’d somehow managed to sandwich her against it. Lips and tongues mixing in hot, desperate movements, as Quentin did his best to try and get her dress off of her. Problem being that the zipper to that garment was on her back that he’d slammed against his front door.

Pulling away from their sloppy wet kisses, he muttered “Jesus Christ, am I going to have to rip this thing off with my teeth?”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” she teased, breathlessly, before sliding out from under him and unzipping the back. “This was expensive though.”

With a smirk accompanied by a borderline predatory gaze, he conceded “I can work with that.”

And suddenly, she hit his mattress with a soft thud, Quentin hovering over her, yanking the dress off of her body, his own shirt gone and his pants unzipped. “Fuck,” he muttered, seeming almost genuinely upset “You really weren’t wearing a bra this whole time?”

“It’s a strapless dress.” she stated, as though it was an obvious forgone conclusion.

“You really are a whore.”

She didn’t have a chance to respond, as he was back to kissing her, now happily letting his hands knead her breasts, chuckling deliciously in the delight he took in hearing the high and sharp “mmm!” she made when his thumbs ran over her nipples, languidly flicking them back and forth. 

“You like that?” he smirked, pulling away. 

Veronica nodded, almost helplessly, and squirmed in pleasure as he lightly booped her nose, assuring her “We’re gonna have a lot fun tonight, honey.”

Before she had time to think about what was happening, she was flipped onto her stomach, Quentin having discarded his pants, working now on removing the panties he’d been so happily playing under not so long ago. “You were so wet when I was fingering you in that cab, Veronica.” he practically purred, lifting her legs around his torso like a wheelborrow. “Slippery job, getting you off. Can you do that again for me? Can you drip all over cock?”

“Wait,” she muttered, turning her head around best she could, her voice clearer and more assured as she asked “Are you hard already?”

She got her answer in the form of Quentin shoving his entire dick inside of her. “Fuck,” he gasped “you’re so tight. You’re such a small thing, Hansen.” 

She wasn’t sure which shocked her more, the sudden slap to her ass as he continued to thrust into her, or the sudden realization that it was the first time she’d heard Beck voice her last name. 

Doing her best to meet his thrusts and match his rhythm (being taken from behind was throwing her off her game), she caught even herself off guard as her back completely arched when, after curling her hair around his fist, Quentin gave the copper tresses a pull. Voice slightly ragged from the physical exertion of pounding into her pussy, his lips were suddenly at her ear, muttering “I think about pulling your hair every single time you pull it into a ponytail in the break room. Taunting me. And now every time you do it, you’re going to think about me, aren’t you? You’re going to think about how good that felt.”

And for a moment, she was back in the break room, tying her hair up, with Quentin watching her. Always watching her so intently. But now she imagined a devious gleam in his eye, a knowing smile. With another yank of her hair she was brought back to the bedroom, back to reality, back to his lips still at her ear, his breath hot, his breathing getting more and more irregular as his thrusts became more and more sporadic. “Fuck,” he muttered, surprisingly gently, before suddenly lifting himself farther from her, pulling his dick out.

Veronica watched in confusion as he climbed off the bed, before he pointed to the carpet, stating “on your knees.”

Apparently, her slow blink in horny confusion wasn’t a fast enough response for him, because suddenly he was pulling her hair again, but in a much less sexy way, as he barked “I said ON YOUR KNEES, Veronica! What part of that are you having trouble with?!?”

She obliged this time, moving as quickly as possible. Of course, she knew what he wanted. She took just the tip in her mouth at first, glancing up as she bobbed back and forth, slowly pushing a little more into her mouth each time. She glanced up, cautiously, but as his eyes rolled back in his head it seemed like whatever caused that outburst had dissipated. He was enjoying it, bucking his hips towards her, needily. There was a shuddered gasp of her name, and then pulling out, quickly, to try and aim to cum on her tits. “That’s my Veronica,” he praised “That’s my good girl.”

She wasn’t about to admit it, but there was something inherently arousing about being covered in his jizz. As he flopped himself back onto the bed, sitting this time, she remained on the floor, slowly but surely massaging the cum by fondling her own breasts. Each of her tits in one of her hands, she moved them up and down, gently rubbing against each other, quickening in pace. She was almost ready to start grinding her clit against the carpet of his bedroom, but as she let out a small moan of pleasure, Quentin’s eyes flickered back to her, and his sudden moan was a lot louder than hers.

“You really are just a sick little slut, aren’t you?” he questioned, moving, not to touch her, but to start stroking his own dick, watching her. With an almost lazy smirk, he added “Perfect for a sick little guy like me.”

She would’ve blushed if her cheeks weren’t already flushed from her own arousal, as she nodded, looking up to him, making eye contact as she let one of her hands drop to her clit.

Immediately, Quentin’s hand was on her arm. “No no no, don’t do that.” his voice was hushed. “Both hands on your tits. Please.”

“But-”

“You need to get off.” he finished automatically, before tapping his thigh, inviting her up. “Come on. Get up here.”

“You sure?” she questioned, standing back up.

He nodded, letting go of his erection, using both hands to grab her by the waist and pull her onto him. “You’re my little whore, remember? I gotta take care of you. And you,” he paused, taking her hand in his, leading it to his cock, making her stroke it “Got to take care of this. This is your fault. You made it show up. Now take care of it,” his eyes widened, in a way she wasn’t sure was playful or not, as he lustfully whispered “whore.”

For a moment, she was content to tease him, continuing to rub his dick, brushing her thumb over the tip now and again to hear him groan. But while he’d gotten off to her mouth just a few minutes ago, she hadn’t gotten off since the taxi over. She didn’t make him wait too long before climbing onto his dick, riding it quickly, deeply, mewling and moaning in how good it felt all the while. 

Beck was quick to buck against her, quickly capturing her lips in his again, now that they were facing each other. Bringing his lips down to leave a slobbery trail across her jaw, his beard scratching at her neck, the sensation only heightening every thrust, every other touch. 

Veronica’s head fell against his, foreheads touching, with a soft whimper of “Quentin…”

“Tell me you’re mine,” he whispered breathlessly. “Tell me I’m the only one who makes you feel like this.”

“Quentin, I’m-mmmm!” 

He didn’t get to hear what he wanted, but he did get the next best thing, as the warm wet walls of her vagina clenched and tightened around his cock, Veronica riding out her climax while still on top of him. Her fingernails digging into shoulders, he felt his own push, doubling up in speed for the next few seconds before he completely poured out inside of her.

“Did you…?”

“I’ll pay for the Plan B, don’t worry.” he assured her, before throwing himself back onto his bed, finally lying down. Waiting for her head to hit the mattress next to him, he turned to her as she did, smirking “So good, right?”

Nodding, eyelids falling from exhaustion and exertion, she echoed. “Good. Really good.”

He nodded back, licking his lips slowly, before finally questioning “Better than Stark?”

“I’m still not sleeping with him.” she droned monotonously.  A small, genuine smile crept up on his lips, as he found himself murmuring “Good.”