#and now when i go back to college someone's going to say something mildly annoying and i'm going to say something off-color back and the

[bitegore]

i'm coming to the conclusion that if every two weeks i go to make a post like 'i miss having friends who were mean to me but who, importantly, i could be mean back to, because the understanding was just that we were mean to each other and there were no hard feelings and also sometimes we'd fight each other physically also for fun without hard feelings, and the minuge the feelings got hard everything fractured into a million pieces because that wasn't how they were supposed to be and it was all good until someone crossed a line' its possible that, like, , i'm not very happy with my current crop of friends.

and furthermore given the way i keep coming at it i think the issue may possibly be 'i think my friends are kind of mean to me but i'm not allowed to be mean back'

which honestly connects way too many dots. but the last thing i want to be about it is, like, sensitive. I just miss getting to play on the same field.

[bisluthq]

hi nat! i wrote in a few months ago about a situationship/fwb that i’d fallen for that was driving me insane, and even though it’s stupid and you’re not a romance column i think my friends will kill me if i bring it up again and i’m losing my mind so this has to get out SOMEWHERE i’m sorry.

we’d had a minor spat over something stupid and never got back on good terms, but despite the fact we were hardly speaking he was insanely flirty whenever we ran into each other—rubbing my back to say hi, prolonged staring from across the room, offering to visit me at work, sharing songs he knew i liked—and his friends kept alluding to something on his end i didn’t know about. which was frustrating and weird, but not nearly as weird as when i found out he was dating a girl who looks EXACTLY LIKE ME (to the point my close friends got us mixed up at a party & thought a pic of her was a pic of me) despite the fact i was the opposite of his usual (very consistent) type. so now he’s going out with a literal clone of me down to style, voice, mannerisms while liking selfies w/ my tits prominently featured and watching me at parties as she’s talking to him, and just… i’m reeling from all the mixed signals of whether he cared or not and feeling guilty about my petty resentment of this girl who’s done nothing wrong but i still hate in a “what does she have that i don’t?” way. she unironically thinks rupi kaur is deep / that the tramp stamps are punk / writes bad music & constantly posts catty "she ain't me" shit but i hate that i’m fixating on these things as if it’s a competition or it makes her a worse person! it doesn't matter! i'm sure she's lovely but i cannot see past my resentment and envy and internalized misogyny. over a boy with a weird chin. i hate college.

anyways sorry for making you read all of this, i'm just going fucking crazy and need a reality check. i love your blog and hope you're having a great day!

Dude, my suggestion is block them both on socials for a while because this is driving you bananas and you don’t need that. As you say, this chick’s done nothing wrong except be mildly annoying (and fwiw she does sound annoying and that’s okay to acknowledge like you don’t have to force yourself to think she’s cool for feminism purposes) and date this dude that you’re not dating (she is allowed to do that and he’s allowed to date whoever he wants since he’s not dating you). I always find it mildly flattering when people move on to girls who look/seem like me. I’m like “lol so clearly that made an impact” 💀💀 and frankly I don’t find it offensive if I look like girls someone dated in the past because that’s evidently the type and idk those girls made an impact 😂💀 I also think college is way too young to establish what his “consistent” type is yk like maybe he liked girls who were different and then hooked up with you for a while and realized he likes that aesthetic. Fair.

as for if he cared or not, I mean he realistically did but he’s with this other girl now so it’s a moot point? Like do you want to have her leftovers if they break up? Probably not lol. It doesn’t even really sound like you want to be his friend. I’d just block them both for a while and let it go.

also college does suck in that way but the depressing thing is all of life sorta sucks in that way. Life is full of trying to figure out if someone likes you and if you like them back lol and if you like them enough. I was complaining about this to my old (in terms of age) friend recently and that’s basically what she told me - that it doesn’t ever really get that much better. We can try hand it over to the universe and disengage but a lot of things are going to just… bother us. Which is okay. It’s okay to be a bit bothered and a bit sad, just don’t let it govern your life or make you do crazy shit. I think that’s the part that does get better lol because when I was younger, a lot of my crazy thoughts would manifest into crazy actions - like showing up places hoping this other person is there or sending essays to them or talking to their friends about it and whatnot and now I’m like “okay well this is a crazy thought I had” and I maybe wallow in it for a spell but then I go and do something else and distract myself from it and most of the time things kinda work out.

also, and I firmly believe this, things ought not be Super Hard™️ - and that’s something I struggle with in my current relationship because we do have serious ups and downs and sometimes I feel like we have too many downs. Like I enjoy the ups but I think the number of downs we have isn’t altogether super healthy and fwiw there are reasons for that (we both have issues lol) but it’s like… things shouldn’t be Hard™️. They can be challenging in a way that helps you grow, but they shouldn’t be super difficult. And then in my case, I also think like even if it’s hard I really LIKE this person as a person and evidently he likes me so maybe it’s worth it but 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ I do wonder if the amount of drama is a problem. And that’s in a very committed, adult, stable relationship - so what hope is there for complicated FWB scenarios 😂😂😆

[strbymacaroon]

Silent Love: Ch. 2 - Sexual Tension

⊹ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Two

Chapter One: New Roommate(s)

Master-List: Here!

.・゜゜・ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ╰┈➤ Sukuna x Reader

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Sypnosis:

When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.

However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.

You hate him.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Genre:

College/Modern World AU. Multiple parts.

Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex, Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.

⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Word Count: 9,041

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ November 14th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Tuesday

You didn’t really sleep, even now, with the back of your eyes sore and painful, and your body heavy and tired, you still can’t really sleep. Yuuji is telling you something about breakfast, but you can’t process any of his words. 

Even when Sukuna emerges from his room, yawning obnoxiously and making his way into the kitchen, grabbing a few things. You can see him from the corner of your eye, and Yuuji’s saying something about when he lived with Fushiguro, and how annoying it was to sleep in the same room as him.

So, you cut him off and ask, “How did you sleep last night?” It’s a bit random, maybe even abrupt, but you're desperate to know. Maybe you imagined the whole thing, you were up really late and could’ve been sleep deprived. Did you imagine your roommates older brother loudly fucking someone? You can’t, right? That’s impossible, you’re not crazy. Besides, if you’re not imagining it, Yuuji had to have heard, right? 

With the way Sukuna doesn’t even flinch, nor even pass you a glance, you think you’re a bit crazy. Yuuji, however, tilts his head to the side, stopping mid mouth of a bite of cereal. He looks to the side, thinking for a moment, and that hesitation gives you some weird form of reassurance. 

Okay, I didn’t imagine it. 

That makes you feel a bit better. 

“It was the same, nothing too different.” Yuuji shoves the spoonful in his mouth, “And I slept great! I have this white noise machine that helps me sleep. I can totally let you borrow it sometime if you're struggling to sleep.” 

Okay?… Maybe, I did imagine it. 

That makes you feel worse. The idea that you were fantasizing about Yuuji’s older brother, a man you hadn’t even spoken to, an asshole who you just saw, a stranger, a person who you don’t even know the name of, makes you feel perverse. Are you really that deranged? Should you check yourself into a mental hospital?

You thickly swallow, “Oh.” It’s a bit quiet, your gaze shifting to look at your bowl of food, not finding the appetite to eat it. “That’s good.” You push the bowl away from you, leaning back in your chair. “Uhm. Maybe, I'll think about it.” 

“What about you?” Yuuji’s words are a bit hard to understand, but you can make them out. 

“Uhm, it could’ve been better. I was trying to do my work, but… couldn’t focus.” Your sentence isn’t very confident, it’s incredibly weak, a bit embarrassing, too. “I think I lost my headphones while moving, and I need them to completely concentrate when studying.” Which is a lie becoming true, you definitely need your headphones to focus in this house. 

“Awh. I’m sorry to hear that. I remember when I lost my headphones I felt like I lost a part of me.” Yuuji pouts, “And who knows, maybe it’s the new house gitters.” She smiles at you comfortingly, “I’m sure you’re going to make yourself at home in no time. I’ll even try to help you.”

You give him a weak smile, a small nod following. 

“Also, not to try and offend you, I’m just kind of curious.” He leans forward, passing you a curious look. “Why didn’t you just move in with your parents?” 

You flinch at his question. There’s a bit of an uncomfortable silence, one you don’t want to fill with an answer. “Uh…” You laugh uncomfortably, “I don’t really like talking about my parents, but, uhm… they’re just a bit too far for me.” 

Yuuji blinks, before scooting back in seat uncomfortably, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He cuts himself off, “I was just trying to–I don’t know why I’m still talking, I’ll shut up.” He places his hands over his face.

That makes you laugh a bit, waving him off in a reassuring way. “No–no, it’s okay.” You smile at him, feeling a bit better, “I mean, all new friendships have to have the uncomfortable conversation once, right?” You wrinkle your nose playfully. 

Yuuji pulls his hands away from his face in favor of rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, you're right.” He tilts his head, “I mean, I thought both of my parents died, turns out they just abandoned me, so that has to make us somewhat even, right?” 

You blink, your jaw falling slack. “Huh.” You gasp, your hand slapping over your mouth, “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?!” You cover your eyes with your hands, “Shit, I shouldn’t have brought it up, that’s totally on me.” 

Yuuji laughs, shaking his head. “Nah, don’t. They left forever ago, can’t mourn people I never knew, right?” He looks back at his brother’s bedroom, making a face you can’t quite decipher. “My brother though, that's a different story.” 

You didn’t even notice his brother leaving the kitchen. “Again, I’m so sorry.” 

Yuuji shakes his head, “Like I said, don’t be.” He smiles at you, “I mean, all new friendships have to have the uncomfortable conversation once, right?” He wrinkles his nose playfully. 

You blink at him in bewilderment, “Idiot, you don’t drop that type of bomb on someone.” You cup your mouth, turning away from Yuuji, trying to stifle a laugh. “You’re so weird, Yuuji.” You turn your face away, “I don’t know if I should laugh, or try to comfort you.”

Yuuji laughs with you, “Yeah.” But, his attention is on your face, watching the subtle smile on your lips, it’s pretty. “It’s whatever. I think it’s a bit funny now.” 

You smile at him, pointing a playful finger at him. “Don’t drop that on me next time.” You lean back in your chair, “Next time you’re going to be telling me you’re the leader of a Mafia or something.” 

Yuuji loudly gasps, a hand on his chest while looking around dramatically, then asks, “How’d you know?” 

You push his chest playfully, “Shut up, Yuuji.” 

Yuuji pushes himself away from the table, grabbing both your plates and placing them in the sink. “Hey, thanks for having breakfast with me.” He notices how you barely touched your food, “I appreciate you spending time with me.” 

You stand up, pushing your hair from your face. “No, yeah, don’t worry about it. This is nice.” You look at the hallway, your eyes landing on Yuuji’s older brother’s door. “It’s better than eating alone—or not eating at all.” 

“Yeah!” Yuuji smiles, looking at you over his shoulder. “Does this mean you’re always going to eat breakfast with me now?” You look back at him, and notice he’s giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. 

“Yeah, we can eat together.” You giggle. 

Yuuji hums to himself in delight, turning his attention to washing the dishes. 

You turn your attention back to Yuuji’s older brother’s room. “Hey, what’s your older brother's name?” You tilt your head. 

Yuuji pauses for a moment, biting the side of his cheek in discomfort, but answers nonetheless. “Sukuna.” His answer sounds a bit different than the other things he’s told you today. It sounds more tense. 

Sukuna, you think to yourself. “Oh, okay.”

“Why?” 

“It would be nice to know who else I’m living with.” You giggle while standing up from the table, “I'm going to go grab my things. Then, we can take the bus together.” 

Yuuji nods, turning off the water of the sink and flicking his hands in the air. “I have to go grab Megumi.” He tilts his head to the side, a bit of hopefulness in his voice as he says, “But, I can meet you at the bus stop?” 

A smile splits your face, “Yeah, I’ll meet you there.” 

You make your way to your room, grabbing your bags and a nice pair of black gloves to keep you warm. You weren’t too proud of your outfit, it’s a bit simple compared to your average. No skirt, which is extremely rare, but some simple blue pants, a nice lacy top, but your zip up sweater covers most of it. 

It’s fine, you’re exhausted. 

“I can look extra cute tomorrow.” Hopefully you can find your headphones before then, too. You sling your bag over your shoulder and grab your shoes, tapping them on before exiting your room, closing the door silently behind you. You turn to your left. 

Your hand falls slack from the door handle, your eyes growing wide at the man in front of you. Your heart beating in your ears, while your lips part ever so slightly. But, you try to catch yourself, pressing your lips together while furrowing your eyebrows. Trying to look a bit intimidating, but you can feel your lips wiggling.

Sukuna. 

Perfect timing, you sarcastically think. 

This time, he’s wearing a wife-beater, covering up more than last time. Still, you can’t help but notice the subtle scratch marks on his arms, and the pink marks on his neck. There’s a gold chain around his neck, too, his hair extremely messy. 

Sukuna notices your presence, narrowing his eyes on you, and cocking his head to the side. “You’re still here?” He asks in slight bewilderment, before scoffing, and muttering something to himself. “Tell that brat he needs to tell me when he has his shitty friends over.” He turns his attention back to the restroom.

Now that you can really hear him–without a wall in the way–it feels electrifying. His voice is so deep and raspy, practically vibrating in your body, it may be weird, but his voice is really attractive. In the comfort and privacy in your mind, you can admit, you want to hear more of it. 

A small uncomfortable laugh leaves your lips. You can feel it, the panic seeping into your mind. Despite your body remaining the same, you’re screaming in your head, clawing at your hair with rage as you tell him, “Oh, uhm… Yuuji didn’t–didn’t tell you, huh?” 

That seems to catch his attention, his eyes moving to your frame despite not moving his head. He’s listening, but giving you an expression which doesn’t make you want to continue. But, you take this as a sign to continue nevertheless, “I’m your… Yuuji invited me to live with him, so, I’m your…” 

Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, his lips pulling into a scowl. He turns his body to you again, “You’re fucking kidding.” His voice is laced in venom and annoyance, before he pauses, and slowly takes a deep breath. “Are you payin’ rent?” 

Maybe, this is a conversation you should’ve brought Yuuji to help you with. You’re embarrassed about your answer, first shaking your head before whispering, “Yuuji offered his place for free.” You play with the string on your bag, trying to comfort yourself. 

Sukuna closes his eyes at that, his hand raking through his pink hair. “This isn’t even his fuckin’ house, why would he…?” His sentence trails off, his eyes still closed as he tilts his head back slightly. Sukuna wants to know more, but at the same time he’s not eager to spend any more time with you than necessary. Unless it’s in a… exciting way. 

Sukuna pulls his hand down, opening his eyes and giving you a blank expression. “Get out of my face, I’ll figure this shit out with Yuuji.” He turns back to the restroom, “Also, leave me the fuck alone. I don’t want to see you around.” 

You glare at him, your head turning to the side as you grimace at him. “Excuse me?” You take a step in his direction, “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to be a bit polite.” Now, an important thing to know about you is, you absolutely hate confrontation. Right now, you can feel your heart beating out of your chest, while your hands are shaking like crazy. You grab onto the strap of your bag, trying to pull your emotions under control. “I understand this situation is… not the best for you, but would it kill you to be even a bit nice. I didn’t move in here purely because I knew it would annoy you.” 

You cross your arms over your chest, “I didn’t even know you existed before yesterday, so… calm down.”

Sukuna laughs a bit, he seems to find humor in your words. When it isn’t at all funny. It’s odd to think, laughter is supposed to be comforting, but it makes you feel small under his gaze. “Don’t tell me what the fuck to do, bitch. If you didn’t know, I’m the one paying for this house so you can sit on your ass and free-load.” 

Okay… Maybe, he has a small point, but he could be a bit nicer about it. He can’t blame you about this situation, you didn’t know, and if you did, things would be completely different. “Yeah, you’re right. If I knew Yuuji had such an asshole of a brother I wouldn’t have accepted his offer.” You mutter. 

Sukuna gives you a look between cockiness and amusement, “Really. Even if you get to live here for free.” He moves closer to you, and you hate how good he smells. Husky and deep. “Even if you get a chance to be so close to me?” 

So, not only is he an asshole, he’s cocky and self conceited. You huff, clearly not amused, “Like hell.” You push your weight on the pad of your foot, walking around Sukuna, who surprisingly took up a large amount of space in the hall. “I would give anything to be as far away from you as possible.”

Sukuna laughs at that, watching you leave over his shoulder. His eyes scanned up and down your body, lingering on your ass. Still, despite that absolute nuisance it is to have you around, a complete stranger due to his brother’s stupidity, you aren’t at all bad looking. A bit of spunk, too. That’s always a bit fun, annoying, but fun. 

You’re incredibly pretty. His eyes land on your ass again. In fact, you’re really hot.

You stop, quickly turning to Sukuna again. That’s right, you have to… you cringe at yourself, you have to talk about last night. You’re a bit spooked that he’s already looking at you, but don’t show it. 

Sukuna raises an eyebrow, “Still eager to talk to me?” He turns back to you, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“Last night.” You slowly start, your hand tightening around your bag’s strap as you look at the floor. “The walls are…” You have no idea how to say this, you also didn’t think about how awkward this conversation would be. You genuinely want to die, you’re even debating dropping the entire situation for the sake of your sanity. “I can… hear you…” 

Sukuna doesn’t say anything, which makes your anxiety about the situation rise. “Hear me?” He asks, clearly not catching onto your implication. Or, maybe he does, but you can’t read his face at all. 

You feel your face burn with embarrassment and shame, still you pull your face up and look directly at him, your eyebrows furrowed with determination. “Fucking. You’re loud as hell. I can’t do work with your obnoxious late night fucking.” You scowl at him, “Can you shut up? Or, wait until I get some headphones.” 

Sukuna passes you a contemptuous smile, his teeth flashing at you. You can’t help but notice the sharp canines he has, and the perfect dimples in his cheeks. His smile is completely different from Yuuji’s, less inviting, more attractive and conceited. “Oh, I’m aware. Yuuji’s girlfriend would always bitch at me, too. Just wanted to hear you say it.” He tilts his head to the side. 

You softly groan, asshole, you think. “Yeah. Shut up. Unlike you, I actually have to work to be here. I can’t just sit around and do whoever I want.” Maybe Maki’s words struck a chord with you, even if you don’t know if what she said is completely true. You trust her word, as of right now.

“Do you?” Sukuna’s smile drops instantly, no longer finding humor in the situation. He bites the inside of his cheek, his eyes moving up and down your body. His silence makes you uneasy, and out of bad habit, you continue talking. 

“Wait, until I get my headphones.” You tap your foot on the ground a few times. 

“No.” 

Your lips part in shock, huh. “W-why…?” 

Sukuna moves past you, finally making his way to the restroom, hand on the door knob and opening the door. “I’m not changing my lifestyle for a bitch I never wanted to deal with. Deal with it, sweetheart.” 

You groan in frustration, rolling your eyes as you move past Sukuna, the words, “Fuck you.” Leaving your lips. You’re huffing in anger as you rush for the door, but gasp when you’re tugged back. 

“What the fuck did you say to me?” Sukuna whispers in your ear, his hand tightening around your wrist. He’s so close, towering over you as he tugs you so close to his body. You can see his long lashes, the intricate work of the tattoos on his face, and the harsh look of his eyes. 

You’re a bit scared, no, that’s a lie. You’re terrified, your fingers twitching in his hand. Still, you force a strong front, “You heard me?” You lean close to his face, your nose touching his. “Fuck you, asshole.” You whisper. 

Sukuna sneers at you, before biting the inside of his cheek again, smiling as he stands up straight again. “Okay.” He sounds sickly satisfied, almost a bit arrogant. He lets go of your hand, slowly trailing them to your shoulders and pushing you against the wall. 

You wince when your back hits the wall. Your bag’s strap slips from your shoulder, that’s a lie, the whole bag falls to the floor with a soft ‘thud.’ But, you don’t pick it up, you're too caught up in the way he’s pushing against you. 

“What are you!—“ 

“You’re sexy.” He tilts his head, his eyes skimming down your neck. “Can I say that? I shouldn't say that.” He chuckles when you shiver, your hands falling slack against your sides. Blinking at him with a shocked expression. 

Suddenly, that rage dies down, your mind racing with confusion. “Wha—what?” You thickly swallow, shivering when he moves closer to you, his face ghosting your neck. Your hands instinctively grab his shoulders. 

“My little brother’s friend, I shouldn’t touch you.” His lips finally ghost your collar bone, slowly pressing a kiss against it. “But, god, do I fucking want to. Wanna’ lick you all over.” This time, his tongue trails up your neck, instantly your eyes flutter a small whimper leaving your closed lips. “Awh, was that a whimper? Does my baby like this?” He laughs against your skin, pulling back to look at your face, and he immediately regrets it. 

Your lips are parted and a bit swollen from your biting on them, soft breaths leaving your lips effortlessly, your eyebrows are furrowed and a bit concentrated. Your hands trying to grip onto him to stabilize yourself. Your face is burning, while your pupils are blown with desperation. 

Sukuna feels his dick grow hard. You’re horny. Fuck, that’s so hot.

“Don’t want to hear me late at night?” He asks, his legs coming between both of yours. Pressing against the place you want him to spend more attention on. “I know a solution.” He bounces his leg, just a small bit.

You bite back a moan, feeling your body want to cave into him. But, you collect yourself–enough–to force out a glare at him, “To wait until I get headphones.” You feel your hands shaking. 

“Alright.” Sukuna finds humor in your response, but his dark expression doesn’t falter. He stands up straight, his head tilted back as he looks down at you, “Let me fuck you.” He whispers, his voice deep and husky. “Let me use you.” 

You blink a few times at his bluntness, your face flushing. “Wah-What?” 

“Yeah. Let me fuck you, every night.” He smirks as he leans back a bit, “I know you heard that bitch last night.” His hands move from your shoulders to your waist, his hands grabbing the small of it, slowly massaging the area. “Did you get off on it? Wishing it was you who I was fucking? Wishing that I was fucking you with my dick?” 

His depraved words have you dizzy, your body burning, while your stomach flutters. You’ve never heard someone speak in such a dirty way, more or less have those words directed at you. It feels good. You feel good, this feeling of desperation and horniness feels good, his words make you feel good. 

You want him to make you feel good. 

You part your glossy lips, trying to force the words out, but you can’t. You can’t say anything, nothing is leaving, you’re too weak to say anything. Sukuna makes you weak, even now, you’re giving into his touch, eye fluttering as his fingers lightly dig into your waist. 

Sukuna smiles at this, tilting his head to the side in amusement. “Yeah, you like the sound of that, pretty girl?” You relax ever so slightly into his touch, it makes his chest swell with pride. “That’s it. I’ll treat you so well, fuck that attitude outta’ you.” He pushes a strand of hair behind your ear, pulling his hand behind your head and tangling his fingers in your hair, tugging it back so you can look at his eyes. 

You didn’t mean to, but… a small moan slips past your lips. Sukuna relishes in your small noise, fuck, he hasn’t even touched you, yet you’re this sensitive. He was to hear more, wants to see how you cry when he finally splits you open on his dick. 

He’s completely pressed against you, you can feel his dick pressing against your stomach, and it has you burning. Big and heavy, you want to feel it somewhere else. “I’ll fuck you better than any other bitch.” He lowers his face to yours, his lips so close. “I’ll make you my favorite fuck.” 

You want to say yes, your body is screaming to say yes, but your mind picks up on one small detail he said, and she’s instantly spitting venom against it. Even when he’s so close to kissing you, even with how much you want to give in and feel his lips against yours, you use the little strength you have, “I’m not one of your bitches.” You seethingly whisper at him. 

Sukuna eyebrows jut together as he pulls away, furrowing as he looks at you with a bit of confusion. He laughs at you, but it’s littered with his confusion. “What?” 

You turn away, “I’m not a toy for you to use. I’m not another girl for you to fuck.” You grab your bag, twisting on your heel and forcing your body to peel away from Sukuna’s. “I’m just asking you to shut up at night, it’s not an invitation for you to fuck me.” 

You believe what you’re saying, you really do, and the turn this conversation had taken wasn’t your intention… but you desperately want it now. You can feel your stomach fluttering with his words, and your mind hazy with desire. Even though you know how much you shouldn’t want this.

Sukuna bites the corner of his lip to stop the venom from leaving his mouth, “Alright, babe.” He tells you, turning his attention back to the restroom, “Then don’t come crying late at night, begging me to fuck you.” 

“I will never beg for you, Sukuna.”

“Like how that sounds from your mouth, just gotta hear you cry it.” He smiles to himself. He’s going to make you swallow your words, watch. “Your name.” It doesn’t seem like a question, more like a demand. 

You tell him your name with a sneer, turning on your heel and leaving him alone. Still, Sukuna watches you leave with the corner of his eye, enjoying the way you huff in frustration. 

Even when you’re finally outside the house, the door slammed shut behind you, you’re tingling with excitement. You back pressed firmly against the wood, your neck a bit sensitive from Sukuna’s attention. Your hands cupping your mouth. 

You shouldn’t like what just happened, you shouldn’t be thinking so much about it, you shouldn’t be thinking about how perfectly he pressed against you, or the filthy words he told you. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t even be thinking about boys, you have your studies. 

But, you do, and you are. You secretly love this excitement and feeling. You hate yourself for it, you hate Sukuna for it. You’re too focused in school to be distracted like this. 

That’s right, you still have to go to class.

——

You’re far too distracted to be here, even right now, at your last class of the day. You’re still squirming in your seat. “How’s your asshole doing?” You distantly ask Nobara. 

Nobara tilts her head at you, raising an eyebrow suspiciously, “Asking me about my asshole? That’s the first…” A playful smile comes over her lips, “Oh my god, wait, don’t tell me, you found an asshole, too?!” 

You roll your eyes, leaning on your hand, your hand softly pressed against your palm, mumbling your words. “No, but I live with one..” 

Nobara's eyes widen, “Oh! Are you talking about Sukuna?” She asks innocently, not knowing the pandora’s box that is your emotions. 

You give her an aspirated look, your jaw slack, “You… knew?! Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” You whisper-shout at her, “A warning about his asshole brother would’ve been nice.” 

Nobara smiles, placing her chin on the back of her hand as she leans close to you, “But he’s a hot asshole, right?” She’s giving you a catty smirk, wiggling her eyebrows at you. “C’mon, be honest with me.” 

Your eyebrows twitch together in annoyance. “Not helping.”

Nobara wiggles her shoulders, leaning closer into you. “C’mon.” She sings, her catty smile growing. “Tell me, babe.” She adds in a similar tone. 

You softly hum, looking away from her. Mumbling something. 

Nobara laughs, cupping her ear and saying, “I couldn’t hear that, babe, I think you have to speak up.” 

“He’s totally hot.” You tell Nobara, even if you aren’t facing her. “The tattoos did it for me.” You’re slightly peeking at her over your shoulder, your face busting in a deeper shade than your face. “He’s so hot, it’s actually infuriating.” 

Nobara closes her eyes, taking a deep shaky breath and collapsing her hands together. She opens her eyes again, “You don’t know… you don’t know how long… I’ve been wanting to have this conversation.” 

That sentence is like a bomb that has finally gone off. The both of you turn to each other, grabbing each other's hands and smiling like idiots. “It’s so annoying, I hate it. It isn’t fair, it isn’t fair.” You lean closer, “Why do assholes have to be so hot?!” 

Nobara eagerly nods, “You finally get it, you understand now.” She pulls you closer, “Assholes are hot, I’m sorry, but someone has to say it.” She looks up, “Especially if they have a soft spot for you.” 

The idea of Sukuna having a soft spot for you while being an asshole to everyone else, has you squirming in giddiness. “Oh my god, that’s so cute, I can’t.” You shake your head slightly, “I know I shouldn’t say this, but Sukuna is literally so fine.” You giggle, smiling like an idiot as you say, “I literally am in love with him.” 

Nobara nods eagerly, “Mhm! Mhm! Me too, me too! I feel like I’ve been suppressing my feelings, since I can’t really tell Itadori or Megumi about this, and for some reason, call me crazy, that makes him even hotter.” She shakes her hands with vigor. 

You lean back in your chair, using your hands to express, “It’s because he’s the older brother.” You say it as if it were an obvious fact, as if someone were an idiot not to understand this common fact. “And he has an undercut, and tattoos. Ugh, tattoos.” 

Nobara places her head on the table, a love struck, “Tattoos.” Leaving her mouth. 

You lean forward on your hand, your eyes filled with hearts as you say, “Tattoos.” Your expression hardens as you furrow your eyebrows, “But, god, do I hate him.” There’s more venom in your voice now. “Like, I actually want to kill him–strangle him, too.” 

Nobara nods with just as much enthusiasm, her eyebrows furrowing, “Oh yeah, I do too.” She sighs, “Like, I genuinely can’t stand him.” She sighs again, but this time it’s a bit sad, “Such a shame, why do all hot guys have to know they’re hot?” 

You pout, your heart longing, “I just want a hot guy, who doesn’t know he’s hot, and is absolutely obsessed with me.” You turn your head to Nobara, “Is that too much to ask?” You ask as if it wasn’t, it is. 

Nobara laughs, “You get it, babe, you get it.”

The two of you jump at the noise of scattered packing and chair screeching. You look around, “Oh, is class over?” You gather all your things together, shoving them into your bag messily. “What was today about?...” 

Nobara, just as panicked as you, shrugs, “I don’t know, I don’t know, ask Gojo if he can send you the slide show, or figure it out if it's on the module.” Nobara slings her bag over her shoulder, “Oh, speaking of leaving, Itadori and Megumi want to eat lunch with us.” 

“Us?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. 

“Mhm.” Nobara nods, the two of you leaving your seats, “They like you, and want to spend more time with us.” 

You whimper, your hand clutching the place above my heart, “Really? That’s so nice, I can’t.” You could cry. “I literally love them, too.”

Nobara nods, smiling kindly, “Yeah, they totally think you’re cool. Itadori likes you alot.” She looks to the side, scratching her cheek in thought, “I mean, I think Megumi likes you, I can never really read his mind. But, he hasn’t said anything bad about you, which he would if he didn’t like you.” 

“Awh! I love that. I think…” You say with a bit of confused enthusiasm. Nobara just giggles at that, following as you make your way to Gojo. 

“Uh, so is that slides going to be–” 

“Yes, they’re on the module.” Gojo smiles to himself, whispering, “You would know that if you were paying attention.” He looks around dramatically, his fingers pressed over his lips. “Oh my god! I wonder who said that?!” 

You feel your eyes twitch, your hands itching to punch him. He is so lucky he’s your professor. You give him a forced smile, nodding your head, “Thank you.” You grit. You hate him, because… that was a little bit funny.

Gojo just passes you a dumb smile. 

—-

You’re eating Chick-fil-A. 

Yuuji, seeing this, decides to sit next to you, leaning his head on the table. Opening his mouth every time you're halfway through a nuggets or waffle fry, silently asking you to pop the rest in his mouth. Finding this was more kind than asking for a full food item. 

Yet, everytime he does this, you feel a bit bad giving Itadori a half bitten piece of food, and always grab a full piece and pop it in his mouth. So, it’s practically counter productive, or… maybe it’s really productive for Itadori, he is getting a full fry or nugget. 

Nobara leans on the palm of her hand, calling your name to catch your attention, once she gets it, she speaks again, “Have you found anyone for your project yet? The deadline is in a few weeks.” 

You close your eyes, letting your body fall slack against the table. “It’s been a day, give me a break. I still have other assignments that need my attention.” You whine, popping a fry into your mouth, “I honestly haven’t found anyone I’m willing to embarrass myself with just yet. I need them to be special, you know?” 

Nobara shakes her head, “No.”

Nobora laughs at your reaction, waving her previous statement off with her hand. “Yeah, luckily for me, I didn’t need to do any of that with my project.” She smiles cheekily, “I just have to study someone’s anatomy, and figure out if they have any scars, deformities, or anything like that.” 

You furrow your eyebrows, looking to the side, “Babe, I think that’s worse.” And, deformities? That’s a hell of a way to put it, maybe a bit insensitive, too.

“Not if it’s Yuuji who I’m studying.” Nobara sings, wiggling her shoulders. 

“I was forced to do this.” Yuuji weakly adds, raising his hand shakily. “Consent was not given.”

Nobara throws a small piece of trash at him, “No, he did! It was completely by will. I had explicit consent!” She smiles, covering her mouth with her hands as she adds, “If he refused, I would’ve just posted a video I have of his sleep talking to Jennifer Lawrence.” She smiles, singing, “He has such a potty mouth!” 

Yuuji stands up, pointing a finger at her with his eyebrows furrowing, “That’s called coercion, you monster!” 

Your eyes light up with life, “Oh. My. God. Show me!” You lean over the table, trying to reach for her phone. But, Nobara tuts at this, shaking her head, grabbing her phone from the table and reaching it far behind her. Claiming, a deal is a deal. 

Suddenly, a brilliant idea pops into your head, “Wait, Yuuji, do you play any sports?” Please say yes, please say yes, you mentally beg. You’re practically crossing your fingers in desperation. “I can also do my project on you, with your consent, of course.” 

“No coercion?”

You nod, “Mhm, no coercion.”

Yuuji sits back down, giving you an empathetic look, “No. I don’t.” He looks at Megumi, grabbing his drink. “Megumi does, though. Maybe he's willing.” Which Yuuji highly doubts, but hey, maybe he was feeling generous today. 

You aren’t even given the chance to look at Megumi, “Can’t. My sister is already doing her’s on me, and I can’t deal with the things she’s putting me through twice.” He snatches the drink back from Yuuji, “Sorry.” he doesn't sound apologetic, but that’s how he always sounds, so you don’t take it to heart.

Still, that story sounds familiar…? Didn’t Maki tell you she’s doing her project on her brother? What was her last name again? Wait, what was Megumi’s last name again?

Yuuji takes this time to tell you, “My brother does, he’s a football player.” He leans forward, “Good luck getting him to agree, though. I can’t remember the last time he didn’t something nice for me.” 

“He’s letting you, and your friend live with him.” Megumi adds, “For free. Seems pretty nice to me.”

That’s a good point. 

Yuuji looks up, thinking to himself. “Hm, I guess you’re right.” He turns to look at you, giving you a hopeful look,  “Maybe, he’ll say yes.”

Nobara pinches the bottom of her cheek in thought, “Just ask him about his letterman jacket, and tell him he has nice muscles.” She nods to herself, as if she had just discovered gravity. “I think that’s what football boys like.” 

“Wow, really blew the earth away with that idea, babe.” Your expression is blank, clearly not impressed. You feel your phone buzz in your back pocket, which makes you check the notification. It’s a venmo from your dad. 

‘Thanks for helping, don’t spend it all in one place. (+$1.00)’

You feel your eye twitch, wow, so generous, Dad. However, you laugh to yourself when another notification follows after the previous one. 

‘(+$299.)’

Instantly, a small ping of regret falls over your chest, he didn’t need to send that much. The dollar was fine, you were just joking. But, you don’t refuse it either way, you’re going to the student store and buying a new pair of headphones. 

You wave the topic off, “That’s fine, I’m sure I’ll find someone.” 

Nobara’s eyes pop to life as she looks at you with a realization, “Oh! Wait, I’m going to a party on Friday? Want to come?” She asks, biting her bottom lip with excitement. “It can be good for you, after this stressful week.” She passes you a wink.

“And, it’s only Tuesday.” You add tiredly, practically melting in your seat. 

“Yeah, babe, give you motivation to push you through the week.” Nobara passes a glance around the table, “The two of you can come, too. I won’t oppose a sober driver. You already know I want to get fucked up.” She lifts her fingers into an expressive pose, biting her bottom lip as she wrinkles her nose. 

Yuuji shakes his head, shuttering. “Not after what happened last time.” He whispers. 

“Never.” Megumi’s answer is straight to the point, and you respect it. 

Nobara loudly gasps, “Huh?! You’re going to leave two helpless and defenseless girls alone late at night and intoxicated. What if we get kidnapped?” She asks dramatically, clearly trying to create a rise out of either of them. 

Yuuji furrows his eyebrows at her, “You are not helpless.” He shivers, recalling a memory, “Last time a guy hit on you, you ended up shoving him into the pool.” 

“I shoved you into a pool.” Nobara covers her amused smile. 

You furrow your eyebrows, “Was that what happened last time?” You pounder aloud. 

Yuuji shakes his head frantically, “No!” He turns back to Nobara, “Worse of all, I wasn’t even hitting on you!” Yuuji shouts. 

“You were embarrassing me.” Nobara adds loosely, looking at her nails with boredom. 

“How?!” 

“Did you not look at your outfit that night?” Nobara turns away, placing a hand over her mouth while a tear slides down her cheek. “It was tragic, Itadori. Absolutely, tragic. I was doing you an honest to good favor.”

Itadori narrows his eyes at her, “I hate you.” 

Nobara cups her heart, leaning her head to the side as she whispers, “I love you, too. I love you, too.” Yuuji’s eye twitches at this, and for a good second, you genuinely think he’s going to snap and leap over the table.

You laugh a bit, “Itadori’s right, Nobara, I feel pretty safe with you. I’ve seen what you’ve done to touchy men.” You get up, and gather your trash along with your bag, “I’ll totally go though, I’ve been dying to let loose for a bit. I’m a bit pent up right now.” You pass her a wink. 

Nobara covers her smile, “Oh, I know what you mean, I would be, too.” Especially with that hottie around, she tells you with her eyes. 

You nod your head, eyes growing wide. Oh yeah, definitely.

You laugh at your silent exchange and stand up while you sling your bag over your shoulder. “Okay, I’ll see you guys soon, I’m going to go buy an early Christmas gift for me.” You look at Megumi, “A new, shiny pair of headphones.” 

Megumi stiles at this, before turning his head away, a small noise escaping his lips. You can’t tell if it’s a laugh, or a small scoff. You settle on a satisfying both. Before he passes you a thumbs up. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ November 16th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Thursday

The previous night went smoother than you anticipated, you didn’t even need to use the shiny new pair of headphones. Which was a bit of a bummer, you were somewhat eager to put your new device to the test, see if it would really hold up against the real thing, but you didn’t even need it. 

Maybe, Sukuna really did keep his side of the deal. Weirdly, you didn’t think Sukuna would, maybe you gave him too little credit. That fact alone gave you some form of comfort, letting you get comfortable on your bed this night with your headphones placed on your counter. 

A false form of comfort is what it really is. If only you could warn yourself. 

You’re reading a book, completely immersed in the story. You’ve enjoyed this so far and are currently on the second book, while the main love interest seems to be a villain-to-good-guy who falls head over heels for the girl. Willing to do anything for her. 

You sigh dreamily, is that too much to ask for?

“Shit.” 

A groan resonates in your ears, and shoots down to your stomach. Goosebumps lifting your skin as you feel your mind completely halt. Your eyes pull up from your book, and look at the wall next to you. 

No way, there's absolutely no way. Another one?

That’s not possible, Sukuna doesn’t have any girls over, or… at least, you didn’t see any. Maybe he snuck one in, maybe you’re just going crazy and imagining things. Yeah, that’s the only answer, you focus your attention back on the book again, yet none of the words are sticking. You’re constantly re-reading the paragraph or page. 

You’re just a bit jarred about what you thought you heard, it could be the angry screaming of rearranging furniture, or stubbing a toe on the corner of your bed, or squeaking of a bed when you finally lay down on it. In the end, you just groan to yourself, placing your book on the floor and forgetting it. 

“Whatever, I can read it la–” 

“Holy shit, f-fuck.” 

It’s no longer just a figment of your imagination, it’s real and… you glance at your headphones, and you do reach for them, your fingertips grazing the cool item, when something you’ve never expected reaches your ears. It makes your eyes flutter, your pussy tightening around nothing as your hand falls slack against the bed ledge. 

Your name. 

Sukuna just moaned your name.

Oh my god. He wants me to hear. 

You’re absolutely ashamed by your thoughts, your desperation to hear more of his voice, and to watch him. It’s absolutely violating to want to do any of those things, especially that he’s in the comfort of his home. But, your actions are more violating and ashaming than any of your thoughts. Especially with what you’re doing right now. You have headphones, you bought a solution to your problem, yet you’re creating it–feeding into it right now.

You press your ear against the wall, your hand slotted perfectly between your plush thighs to touch yourself. You softly rock your hips back and forth into your palm. You bite your lip, closing your eyes to try and focus on the noise, on his voice. Your eyes roll to the back of your head when you hear the wet sound of his hand sliding up and down his dick. 

Shlick, Shlick, Shlick. 

It’s fast, but a bit drawn out. As if the movement took a significant amount of time to complete, then pull back down. The implication behind that thought makes you squirm in arousal and your thoughts. You keep your fingers outside your panites, rubbing your middle finger above your clit very slowly.

Sukuna’s moans are a bit elongated, deep and vibrating. And only when he speeds his hand up does his voice raise ever so slightly, as his calm demeanor has faulted, only to come back down into a deep groan, revealing the pleasure behind his act. 

It has you drooling, your teeth biting and sucking onto your bottom lip, desperately wishing–praying it was you forcing these sounds out of him. You would give anything to wrap your hand around his cock, or your lips, and suck. You don’t even know why? You’ve never done anything like that before, but the idea of him moaning because of you, makes your stomach flutter. 

“Shit, just like that. Just like that.” He groans again, his breath growing ragged and slow. As if he’s taking in the pleasure, indulging himself in it like a greedy sin. Even his movements, the sounds from his cock, emulate it. “Love when you use your tongue.”

Is he fantasizing? You want to know about what, you desperately want to know what he’s thinking. You pull your shirt above your tits, using your free hands to pinch and grope them, imagining it was Sukuna’s big hands violating you. 

A small huff leaves your lips, red and bruised. You wish it’s him doing this to you, his tongue working against yours, his lips pressing against your slowly and forcefully. Taking in each little whine and moan you make against his lips, working his tongue slowly around yours. 

Yet, despite your eagerness, he keeps at his tauntingly slow pace, grinding your hips into his, his dick pressing up against your swollen clit. Catching it in the most perfect way that has you melting into his arms, falling against his shoulder as you moan into his ear. Only making his boner harder for you to grind against. 

Sukuna thickly swallows, “Gotta’ keep quiet, roomie hates the noise keepin’ her from her studies, since she’s a good little girl.” He chuckles at his words. “I should be quiet, right?” 

You hate–love–how close he sounds, as if he’s right next to you, trying to sound as loud as possible, trying to get into your head. He already is, though, clouding your head to make you dizzy and horny. Even with your finger working your clit in slow circles, creating the simulation you love, it isn’t enough. 

I should stop. You tell yourself, I need to grab my headphones, you mentally scold. But you can’t, how do you expect to stop when he’s practically doing this for you. He’s trying to get on your nerves, he’s trying to make you horny. 

You don’t want him to stop. 

Please, don’t stop. 

“Please, don’t stop.” It’s quieter than a whisper, something even your ears don’t pick up. Which is good, you can’t imagine facing Sukuna after you explicitly said you’d never beg for him, yet here you are, groping your body imaging it was him descrating you. That thought alone sends goosebumps over your sensitive skin. 

Sukuna moans your name again, but it has more command to it this time, as if he’s calling for you. “Can you hear me, you listenin’?” 

You nod your head, pulling your body closer to the wall, it’s cold and makes your skin prick. Yet, it feels amazing, when you pinch your nipples or dip your finger between your slit, it makes you indulge in how filthy it is. Rubbing your slick around your sensitive bud. 

“You wanna hear what I’m thinking of?” Sukuna whispers, his voice more raspy from before. “Something so your drooling cunt can get off to?” 

You bite it back, you really try to, but it slips into the soft pillow of your bed. A whimper, and you pray to everything that Sukuna didn’t hear. It would genuinely make the moving process so much faster for you. 

“I fuckin’ hope so, damn bitch.” He sighs, his hands working up and down his dick again. “Thinkin’ about your tits, how soft they looked yesterday, and when you first came. Took everything in me not to pull down your towel and lick ‘em all over.” 

You mush your thighs together, your hand working your soft tits, feeling how soft they are between your fingers. The way his tongue would work around your tits, sucking and marking them up as if they belong to him. Your body nods at that thought, they do. You belong to him right now.

You imagine how thick he has to be, how long his dick is, and how deep it would work its way inside of you. How you would choke on it, or how it would feel deep inside your throat as your hands work what can’t fit. How long he would spend preparing you to take his cock, only pushing it into your sensitive cunt when you’re verging tears of overstimulation. 

“You thinkin’ about me suckin’ your tits? Good.” He groans, his hand stopping at his tip, working that sensitive area overtime, it has his voice raising ever so slight. “Thinkin’ abou–about how’d they bounce under me when I–when I fuck your cunt open with my cock. F-Fuck, that’s so s-sexy, want to see that so fuckin’ bad.” 

There’s a bit of whine in his voice, and that does something to you. It has you working your clit in circles, your panties hanging off one of your ankles, dangling as you point and curl your toes in pleasure. You’re never felt this good before, even now that you're rubbing your clit, his words have your stomach fluttering, adding to the insane sensation. 

“Wanna’ see your face when you cream, wanna hear what noises you’d make when it’s too fuckin’ much.” Sukuna groans loudly, his teeth gritting as he breathes, “Wanna hear you beg f’me to fuck you, then beg to stop when you can’t take it anymore.”

You flip onto your stomach, shoving your face into your pillow with tears in your eyes. Your stomach coiling in pleasure, electrifying shocks of euphoria soaring through your body everytime you hear Sukuna moan in pleasure. It’s all too much, but you’re right there, so close.

“Wanna’ use that pussy like a little toy. My pretty toy” His dick slaps against the wall, and it sounds so fucking thick, so big and heavy. “S-Shit, that feels.. so–so fuckin’ good.” He moans, slapping his cock against the wall a few more times to enjoy the depraved pleasure it emulates in his body. Oh my god, it’d fucking feel amazing inside you.

“Fu-Fuck, I’m gonna…” His sentence cuts off with a soft groan, his hand working up and down his cock faster than before. And, he doesn’t stop, he keeps going, which his moans going up and octaves everytime. “Y-Yes, fuck, love that shit…”

That does you in, your lips parting as drool seeps from your lips, coating your pillow. Your legs lock around your hand as liquid seeps down your legs, but you don’t stop, you can’t. Not when you’re imagining Sukuna working his cock as he fingers your cunt. His thumb rubbing circles into your oversensitive clit for what felt like hours.

It’s so nasty, so dirty, but it makes you feel like heaven. 

How shameless Sukuna is with his words, his thoughts and actions. He doesn’t care if you’re listening, in fact, he wants you to listen. He’s getting off on thinking you're getting off on him, and that’s the hottest thing ever. 

･ ｡ﾟ☆:  *･ November 17th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

Friday

That morning, you don’t even get ready for the day. You just shove some cute clothes in a second bag, and leave the moment you know your bus is a few minutes away from your stop. Not passing Itadori, or most importantly, Sukuna a glance. 

Yuuji just tilts his head at your actions, a sting of pain zapping in his heart. What happened? Are you okay? Also, did you not want to walk with him, or eat breakfast and talk about random things? Did he say something wrong? Are you mad at him by chance? 

Yuuji was planning on going to the party with you and Nobara, but not he’s not too sure. Maybe, you need some time away from him. He pouts slightly at that thought, what a shame. 

Sukuna, on the other hand, voices it. “Where's she going off in a hurry?” There’s this nasty satisfaction building in his chest by your actions, so you heard him. “Don’t tell me she’s scared of missin’ her bus or something.” He laughs sadistically to himself, finding amusement in your timid nature.

Yuuji narrows his eyes at his brother suspiciously, making a slight scowl at him. “Why do you care?” He furrowed his eyebrows while grabbing some milk from the fridge. “I swear if you did something, I’ll personally kick your ass.”

“You can sure as hell try, brat.” Sukuna shrugs, looking back at the cupboard for his pre-work out. “Besides, I just wanted to talk to her.” He laughs again, smiling to himself. “See if she slept well last night. Heard some shit that kept me up.” 

Yuuji isn’t completely satisfied with this answer, in fact, his brother’s answer makes him a bit uneasy, but he tells him, “She’s going to be back Saturday, so you’re just going to have to wait..” Yuuji grabs a bowl and pours some Frosted Flakes inside, along with his milk, slipping his spoon inside.  

“Nah, don’t care anymore.” Sukuna dismisses, tucking the things he doesn’t need anymore away. 

Yuuji takes an unsure bite of his cereal, but feels it doesn’t taste as good without your morning company. “Pretty sure she’s going to a party with Noara today.” He thinks aloud, trying to gauge Sukuna’s reaction. 

Sukuna nods, “Interesting.” But his tone doesn’t indicate any interest. In fact, he’s pulling his phone from his pocket, going through his list of unsaved contacts and unopened chats. Until his eyes land a familiar one. 

A girl with familiar hair. 

Yuuji pushes himself away from the kitchen, making his way to the dining table. “Yeah, I’m going to be out until the weekend too. Don’t mess up the house.” 

Sukuna rolls his eyes, “It’s my damn house, I’ll do whatever I so please with the fuckin’ place.”

Yuuji sighs, standing up from the table, finding that his appetite is no more. “Fine.” Ruin this place like you ruin everything. He grabs his bag and makes his way to the door, leaving the dishes behind. He pauses, he looks at Sukuna, “Also, this weekend…” However, the sentence dies far before he can finish it. 

Sukuna’s too caught up in his phone to pay attention to Yuuji right now. Typical.

Whatever, Sukuna will just have to figure it out the hard way. That amuses Yuuji a little bit. He waves to his brother, opening the door and singing, “Bye.” Right before closing.

Oh, he can’t wait until he comes back on Saturday to the shit-show unfolding within his house. 

Next Chapter: Ch. 3 - Fake Dinner Date W/Feels

[cat3ch1sm]

⛪️~ okay i just KNOW gojo is the type of mf to fake moan out of fuckin nowhere while you’re on a call with someone else. like this bitch is just that annoying.

regular college au?? gojo is an upperclassman but everyone else is the same age👍🏾

sfw-ish? just crack basically 😭

“I have no fucking clue what’s going on.”

You, Nobara, Itadori, and Megumi were on a video call with one another via computers, working on a very long geometry packet that your professor had assigned the day before. You and Megumi were the only ones getting anywhere, but admittedly, it was mildly difficult for you to understand as well- so Nobara and Itadori were beyond lost.

“Me neither,” Itadori whined hopelessly, and you saw his head fall out of the camera frame as he dropped it on his desk forlornly. “I’m just gonna have to fail. I’m totally finished.”

You sighed exaggeratedly, rolling your eyes to the ceiling before looking back at the grainy images of the pitiful Itadori, the exasperated Nobara and the perpetually disinterested Megumi. “Oh, my god. Guys. Seriously, try and stay with me here?” You gestured to your notes spread out in front of the camera for your friends to reference. “An attempt at anything on this assignment would be nice.”

“Yeah, no, we’re past that point,” Nobara deadpanned. “Do these teachers get a kick out of torturing us or what?”

“No, they don’t,” Megumi answered swiftly, his voice somehow more apathetic-sounding over his microphone. “Now if you’d just listen to my or Y/N’s explanation instead of whining about how hard this is, I’d appreciate it. You both know the formula for the midpoint, right?”

Only feedback from either student’s mics. You resisted the urge to slap yourself in the forehead. Megumi, however, seemed unfazed.

“Right. It’s xm, ym equals x1 plus x2-“

“Are you trying to kill me?” Itadori finally sat up, pink hair tangled all over his head.

“I… didn’t even finish telling you what the formula is.”

“Um… nah.” Nobara waved a hand dismissively at the camera, and Megumi rolled his dark eyes. “Anyways, gonna go play in traffic. Anyone down to join me?”

You blinked and made a face at Nobara. “Wha- you’re not even giving it a chance?”

“Nope. My brain clocked out hours ago.”

You blew out some air and were about to say something else before you heard the door open behind you, and you noticed Gojo Satoru, your roommate, walk into the frame of your video. “Oh, hey, Gojo,” you greeted him, a little absently.

“Hey, Y/N! On a call?” He leaned way down over your shoulder, prompting you to grimace and move to the side some while he shoved his entire face into the camera. “Hi, guys! What’re you doing?”

Itadori lifted his head from his arms to reply in an agonized tone, “Dying,” before dropping back down with an alarmingly loud thud on his desk.

Megumi pursed his lips in annoyance before acknowledging Gojo. “We’re trying to finish some math homework. Unfortunately, Y/N and I are the only ones putting in an ounce of effort.”

“I refuse to waste my effort on this bullshit,” Nobara added nonchalantly, and you saw her fly in and out of the frame on her swivel chair.

“Yeah, okay, Nobara. I suppose this is pretty self-explanatory,” you sighed, limply gesturing to your computer screen. “We’re getting nowhere and it’s been like, two hours.”

Gojo smirked in amusement before backing up from your screen. “Sucks to suck. See ya!” And with that, he disappeared to the back of the dorm.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” you muttered, propping your forehead up on your fingers. “Maybe we should just-“

And then you heard it.

A muffled but not muffled enough sound from the bathroom- and a very explicit one at that. It was a long, continuous sound at first, and then it was a breathless series of the same noise. Your eyes flew wide open the second you heard it- mostly because it sounded so forced and fake that you knew exactly what the cause of it was. Unfortunately, you reacted too late, and you only realized it when the video call went dead silent.

Nobara had reappeared in front of the camera, her eyes the size of frying pans and a manicured hand cupped over her mouth. Itadori had his head lifted from his arms only so you could see his wide eyes, and Megumi looked way more annoyed than usual.

Meanwhile, your jaw was dropped and a furious blush spread across your cheeks, and as if expecting to see something horrible, you slowly turned your head to stare at the direction from which the sound had come from.

It was silent for a second before explosive laughter erupted from your dorm bathroom, undoubtedly from Gojo, who thought his little joke had been absolutely hilarious. You abruptly snapped out of your trance, yelling furiously at him, but his laughter only grew louder with every word you said.

“I am logging off right this second.” Megumi’s image vanished from the screen with a low notification sound, and Itadori started laughing as well while Nobara was still in the exact same stance as she had been before.

“Tell me he’s faking.” Nobara’s voice was muted behind her hand.

“Fuck. He is. I swear he is,” you replied hurriedly, eyes darting from the door to the bathroom in hopes that nobody else had just heard that obnoxiously loud fake moan. “Gojo! Are you fucking kidding? What the hell- okay, no way we can save this video call, guys.” You dropped your head into your palms, shaking it slowly in disgust. All you’d wanted to do was work on the damn math homework. “Really. Just hang up or something- while I kill Gojo.”

[silversatoru]

hi!! i just started followed you and i love your works :)) could i request a smutty fushiguro megumi drabble/fic where he realizes he has a daddy kink?

daddy?

a/n: hi you are so sweet thank you!!! n the idea of megumi realizing he has a daddy kink is so fucking cute lmao i have been losing my mind over this idea,,,

fushiguro megumi x f!reader

synopsis: you call a classmate daddy in order to smuggle some homework answers and accidentally awaken a full blown daddy kink in your usually shy boyfriend

tags/warnings: daddy kink (obviously), mild manhandling, fingering

w/c: 1.6k

you really thought people would be more mature when you got to college,, or at least you hoped they would be. unfortunately, you’ve never been more wrong.

you had the most annoying busy-work assignment due tomorrow — and of course it wasn’t hard, but it was just so damn time consuming and you didn’t feel like doing it. but this is where the class group chat you were in comes in handy; you planned to ask if anyone had the answers but someone else had already beat you to it.

and then some cocky asshole who did the homework agreed to send the answers under one condition: he wanted someone to call him daddy. it was so stupid and horribly immature but this wasn’t any cocky asshole; it was a smart cocky asshole, and his answers were definitely reliable.

now, you weren’t a desperate woman, but this homework was a real pain in the ass and daddy was nothing but a word — so why not?

pls send the answers daddy, your thumbs danced across your phone and hit send before you could even think twice. a few moments later a picture of all the assignment answers came through the chat — success.

and now you could go enjoy a night out with your friends instead of wasting your time on that pointless shit. your boyfriend megumi had been waiting outside for you in his car, ready to pick you up and go to a house party a few streets up. neither of you were big party people but when your best friends nobara and yuuji were the ones throwing the party, you were obligated to attended.

megumi seemed a little off when you first hopped in the passengers seat, his facial features even more stoic than they usually were. you tried starting conversation a few times, but it was to no avail. something was clearly bothering him but he was refusing to talk about it — and then it finally clicked in your head:

“oh my god! this is about the daddy thing isn’t it?” you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing when you realized megumi was in that group chat too.

his eyes rolling in annoyance and his continued silence was all you needed to confirm your theory.

“come on, gumi, i was just getting the assignment answers so we could have fun tonight,” you pouted.

“yeah i know, i just don’t really like you saying that kind of stuff to other people,” he finally spoke up, his eyebrows scrunched together in distaste.

“fine, you’re right, i shouldn’t have done it. but it’s not like you have a fucking daddy kink or anything, so relax a little,” you let out a sigh and leaned back into the seat.

and he silently agreed with you — there was no way that he had a daddy kink, right?

the rest of the car ride was mildly awkward but some of the tension between the two of you had finally settled. you wrapped your hand in his as the two of you entered the house, greeting a couple friends on the way in.

after grabbing some drinks and hanging around the entrance for a few minutes you released megumi’s hand from your own.

“i’m gonna go find nobara quick, okay? try to relax and enjoy yourself a little bit,” you flashed him a smile and then stood up on your toes so you could whisper the next part into his ear, “see you in a few, daddy”.

you figured that if the word bothered him so much when you said it to other people, you’d like see how he’d react when you said it to him. and it took everything in you not to burst into a fit of laughter when you saw the stunned look across his face.

you were laughing, but megumi found your comment to be anything but funny. his heart rate quickened and suddenly his jeans felt tight and — oh fuck, maybe he did have a daddy kink.

he grabbed your wrist and yanked you down the hall, pulling you into a guest bedroom and locking the door behind him. you couldn’t contain yourself when you started to connect the dots — his shocked expression and the obvious boner in his pants made it very clear.

“holy shit, gumi, you do have a daddy kink don’t you?” you giggled, reaching up to wrap your hands around his neck.

he gave you an annoyed and embarrassed look, as if he was ashamed of it or something. but you couldn’t let him feel like that, not when the idea excited you just as much as it excited him.

“you want me to call you daddy? hm? moan it into your ears and beg for you? we could try it right now; that is why you drug me into this room, right?” you caressed the side of his flushed face, his eyes getting darker the more you spoke.

he gave you a quick nod and then the two of you collided together, messy kisses being scattered from your lips to your collarbone and everywhere in between. megumi was slow to start but once you had him going there was no holding him back. he broke off the kiss after a few heated minutes and before you could even catch your breath he gave you a rough shove that sent you falling to the bed.

he stared down at you with a brand new fire in his eyes, and it was fucking hot. if you knew calling someone random guy daddy would have awakened this in him, you would have done it forever ago.

in a matter of minutes his skin was hot against yours, your clothes nothing but a heap on the floor. his kisses were sloppy and rough, his head clouded with lust as he relished in his newfound turn-on. he wanted to have complete control over you, he wanted you to beg him for everything, and he wanted to hear you whimper the word daddy over and over.

he snaked two of his long fingers down to your clit and rubbed a few rough circles that made your legs twitch in anticipation. they then lowered to your entrance, his eyes widening when he felt the amount of slick that had already accumulated. you felt a warm redness flush across your face in slight embarrassment — it was kind of pathetic how quickly his shift in attitude went straight to between your legs.

knowing that you liked his newfound dominance sent a whole new wave of confidence coursing through megumi. his usually gentle fingers slid through your entrance with an entirely new force, causing your core to clench and your breath to catch in your throat. a disgusting array of squelches and moans quickly filled the air, your hands desperately grasping onto megumi’s body. he was delving his fingers deep into your caverns at a completely merciless pace and it was earning him the prettiest moans from your mouth.

“feels so good, gumi,” you mumbled as he had you squirming and whining underneath him.

“no- no i want you to say the other thing,” he pressed his forehead to yours and let his eyes rest shut as he savored every last one of your beautiful sounds.

you’d gotten so caught up in the pure bliss that was megumi’s touch that you’d completely forgotten about how this all started — the daddy kink. but now that he reminded you, you were gonna lean into it hard. you wanted to put on only the best performance for your wonderful boyfriend.

“your fingers feel so good, daddy, but your cock would feel better,” you cooed in his ear, sending electricity down his spine and straight to his dick.

“is that what you want?” he leaned back and opened his eyes to look at you, sliding his sticky fingers out of your soaking cunt.

“yes, daddy, please,” you begged for him, “i want you to fuck me”.

you could have swore you saw his dick twitch and his eyes get wide at your words, but you hardly had time to think about it before his two slimy fingers were shoved into your mouth. you shameless sucked them clean, running your tongue around and between them while megumi used his other hand to position himself at your entrance.

you flinched at the slight pain when he sheathed himself inside you — your body taking it’s time to adjust to the size. sure his fingers felt good, but you felt so much fucking fuller with his cock stretching your walls. the way he thrusted stuffed you so perfectly that you could barely even form words, your eyes rolling back into your head.

the two of you had sex on many occasions, but there was fresh intensity and passion flowing between you this time. your fingernails were digging claw marks into his arms and you could barely contain the array of moans leaking from your lips. between your noises and the creaking off the bed you were grateful for the loud music blaring through the house.

megumi even manhandled you a bit more than usual — tossing you around and pushing you into the positions he wanted you in. if he managed to work up the confidence he’d order you around too, and you’d just respond with whines and the occasional “yes, daddy”. the phrase was simple but every time those words left your pretty mouth tiny fireworks went off in his head.

when he murmured the words come for me, you were hopeless — a pitiful, whimpering mess who couldn’t do anything but mumble incoherent phrases all stemming from the word daddy.

it was the best fucking orgasm of your life — and it was all because you’d been too lazy to do your homework earlier.

[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. 

[majorbaby]

you don’t have to wait till next tuesday, you can give us the beejtrap brainrot now

tl;dr dick measuring contest gone wrong (emotional)

BJ gets a little drunk and starts to get weird and moody. Trapper is drinking too and he's a silly drunk /however/ he's also keenly aware that BJ's demeanour has changed but he's not about to go poking a sleeping dog, he kind of just wants to finish his beer.

Which is honourable of Trapper, but ultimately it doesn’t matter because BJ’s brain starts poking at itself anyway and soon BJ is like "so i heard you used to be known as Big John 'round these parts" without realizing that this is only something you would say if you were a gay man awkwardly chatting up another gay man 

trapper responds with a look that says ‘are you even hearing yourself you moustachioed fruit??’ he waves that off because he’s been suspecting all that of BJ since day one. however he is mildly annoyed with the ‘big john’ nickname in general. he doesn’t mind it when it's coming from people who he's actually slept with, but without that *eyebrow waggle* context, it’s reductive and doesn’t at all acknowledge his world-class dick game. Trap’s got a polished technique he’s been working diligently on since college... 

anyway i’m realizing that i’m halfway between headcanon and hastily-written fanfiction and tbh i’m not putting it past me to turn this into an actual fanfiction that i’m proud of at some point so have the rest of this in bullet points that i’ll come back to maybe:

- B: Haven’t you ever wondered what the B and the J stand for in BJ?

T: Not even once (but i was wondering when you’d try that on me) 

- BJ demands to see Trapper’s dick, Trapper is like no??? like if you could be normal about it maybe but you’re clearly going through something??? 

- BJ (the dog is awake and it’s got a bone now) whips his own dick out and tries to engage in a game of cock chicken

- Trapper doesn’t go for it but BJ is being annoying so he relents and/or BJ gets his hand on Trapper’s fly and then Trapper is like ‘fine i’ll bite, this could get interesting’

- they don’t have a ruler or anything to use to properly measure so they end up doing a side-by-side comparison

- BJ suggests that if they were hard, it would be immediately apparent who the winner is and they wouldn’t have to keep flopping their soft cocks around, Trapper thinks there was no reason for anyone to take their cock out, soft or otherwise but i see that the only way for you to confront your sexuality is by doing it under ostensibly ‘normal straight behaviour’ circumstances with someone you’ve convinced yourself you’re better than 

- so now they’re hard, tipsy and their dicks are adjacent to one another and it takes all of that for BJ to finally go “hmmm”

- “Envy gave way to awe, and BJ gently brought his large palm beneath both of them” - have this so you understand exactly the vibe:

frottage and fraught-age ensue. it is unexpectedly tender for both parties. 

[1kook]

card swiped (3)

→ jeon jungkook x (f) reader

→ Now, Jungkook was never one for romance, far from the sappy type. But why couldn’t he word it more softly, gently? He wasn’t just trying to fuck you, he was trying to… make love.  GENRE romance, smut, teensy angst WARNINGS eventual smut, mentions of sex, virginity plays a huge role OTHER college crushes, childhood friends to lovers, besties to lovers, volleyball player!jk, student council pres!oc, seokjin is 32... and a a coach lol<3 RATING m (18+) WC 1.5k

NOTES (!) seokjin being a hot 32 year old <3 jk gets progressively more dumb as it goes, prayer circle <3 lmk what u think !

[ masterlist ]

The truth is, the reason Jungkook doesn’t lie that much is because he’s terrible at it. 

His mother had found out soon enough who put that dent on the car after a slip-up at the dinner table. His high school coach had learned he had purposely skipped out on practice after an accidental snapchat and jealous teammate had snitched. And, well. Fifteen minutes after the end of practice finds him sitting outside the gymnasium, a grimace on his face as he considers running back to your room and confessing to all his lies. Admitting he’s still a virgin— which was practically of no use to you —and maybe even revealing his own recently uncovered feelings was the easy way out. 

Thankfully, Assistant Coach Kim Seokjin is there to knock some sense into him. The hard plastic of the clipboard they use to outline their attacks smacks him hard over the head, making Jungkook’s bones rattle from his skull down to his toes as he steps up behind him. He whirls around to glare at the perpetrator, only to come face to face with the aforementioned assistant coach. “Go home,” Seokjin says, twirling the gym keys in one hand. “I’m trying to lock up.”

“What’s stopping you,” Jungkook huffs, tucking his knees to his chest, ignoring the awfully rude manner in which Seokjin nudges him away, foot against his back as if he’s just an annoying pile of cardboard boxes in his way.

“What’s wrong with you today?” Seokjin asks casually, doesn’t sit next to Jungkook on the steps because he’s always been a little too posh. According to Taehyung, Kim Seokjin graduated from some elite university in another country with near immaculate all-around player statistics before Jungkook even knew what a volleyball was. His success and fame in the world of collegiate volleyball is why he never wears the standard-issued slippers around the court, always some high-end, luxury brand. One glance slightly to his left has Jungkook meeting the black stripe of the frequently sought after Givenchy sneakers head on. 

He scoffs, a sound that Seokjin doesn’t approve of if the karate chop he lands on the back of his neck is anything to go by. “Ow,” Jungkook flinches, pushing him away with an irritated sigh before eventually slumping over his knees again because it’s the exact same thing you do to him sometimes. Study nights— dates, his brain supplies now —where he begins gazing off into space are filled with numerous karate chops to the neck in an effort to get him to focus on his homework. “Come on, Jungkookie,” you always tease, playful smile, lithe fingers toying with the corners of the pages in your book in a way that was almost sensual. But then he does a double-take because he’s aware of the rose-tinted lens he’s unknowingly slapped over it, something he would have maybe not noticed pre-realization of his feelings. And even he is shocked by the absolute seductiveness his brain inserts into an otherwise innocent memory. He’s pretty sure you haven’t called him Jungkookie in years— was his brain trying to hint at something here?

Jungkook groans, knocking his head against his knees as a form of self-punishment for his lecherous thoughts concerning his best friend. 

But his show of emotions must move Assistant Coach Kim because, after a moment of trying to concuss himself against his own knee, there’s a hand placed on his shoulder that makes Jungkook pause. He doesn’t even bother turning around, just throws his head back to look at Seokjin upside down. He’s got a double chin from this angle. “It’s a girl, isn’t it,” his coach sighs, looking at Jungkook with what can only be described as an unimpressed expression. 

“No,” Jungkook defends even though it’s true. “Can’t I just be sad for oth—“

“I heard Jimin call you a simp on the way out,” Seokjin says rather bluntly. And then he surprises Jungkook a second time as he throws aside his posh status to sit on the dirty concrete steps beside him with a sigh. “What did you do?” 

See, Jungkook could lie here and prance off to deal with his own problems. Leaving Seokjin and everyone else in the dark concerning his personal life was, honestly speaking, the smartest thing to do. He didn’t mind his volleyball teammates and friends (in this case, his coach), but he also wasn’t too fond of being relentlessly teased throughout the entire five or more hours they spent together almost every day of the week. 

But also… 

If what Taehyung had said is true— that being, if Kim Seokjin is the illustrious bachelor who charmed his way into multiple foreign panties all whilst demolishing the spirits of liberos and defensive specialists in another country —then Jungkook needed to capitalize off his presence immediately. 

So he lays his cards out flat. “I… might’ve told my best friend I’d take her virginity,” he blurts out, turning to face Seokjin. For the most part, the older man doesn’t look too surprised. If anything, mildly amused. Jungkook quickly adds, “while also being a virgin.” 

“You’re a what,” Seokjin exclaims, chokes on his own saliva in an admittedly not Casanova, bachelor-esque fashion that ends with him coughing into his elbow and Jungkook hurriedly patting his back. “You?” Seokjin repeats once he’s composed himself. “Are a— don’t you have a girlfriend?”

Jungkook’s cheeks warm. “No, Coach. I do not have a girlfriend,” he emphasizes, because who knew sharing the details of his (lack of) sex life would be this embarrassing? 

Seokjin frowns. “What about that girl?” he asks, and Jungkook raises his brows. “You know the one. Carries around stacks of papers to sign, goes to all the games. The one who pats you on head all the time.” And he’s talking about you, of course he is, but the insinuation that other people might, maybe, possibly, perceive you as his girlfriend makes Jungkook malfunction. 

“She’s— That’s—“ he sighs, dropping his head down until his chin touches his chest, brushed against the lucky necklace you’d given him two years ago during their first trip to Nationals. “That’s… my best friend.” 

Beside him, Seokjin says, “the one you’re gonna fuck?” 

Jungkook lets out a long exhale. “Yes. The one I’m going to fuck.” And it’s so blunt and crude, not that it’s surprising coming from him, but it’s surprising because he’s talking about you. Now, Jungkook was never one for romance, far from the sappy type. But why couldn’t he word it more softly, gently? He wasn’t just trying to fuck you, he was trying to… make love. 

The thought must show on his face because Seokjin snorts. “Well, good luck.” 

And then he stands up and begins walking down the sidewalk and Jungkook can’t spring up fast enough. “Wait,” he gasps, clutching at his forearm. He feels like a dorky character in those dramas you like so much, the ones you force him into watching every time he comes over. Like he’s some disgraced son looking for his father’s approval. Except Assistant Coach Kim is neither his father nor someone he really wants approval from anyway. 

What he does want is pointers. From an experienced pro, if you will. 

Jungkook has to swallow down all his pride as a man to ask his next question. “H- How do I—“

Seokjin beats to it him with a flick to the forehead. “I’m your volleyball coach, kid,” he frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not your sex coach.” It’s a sensible rejection, one that Jungkook expected, but still. He deflates, let’s the weight of the world and his heavy gym bag nearly knock him onto the ground. 

But Assistant Coach Kim Seokjin is kinder than he lets on and, after one annoyed sigh, let’s him in on the secret Jungkook has been chasing for all his life. (Or, well, for the past few hours since he first propositioned you.)

“The key to impressing your partner is to always act like you know what you’re doing,” he tells him, arms crossed over his shoulders. It’s night now, the campus shrouded in darkness. But Jungkook swears a heavenly light shines down on Kim Seokjin just then, a halo appearing over his head when he jabs a finger against Jungkook’s chest. “Confidence is sexy.” 

“Confidence is sexy,” Jungkook repeats, feels like a kid who’s just met his favorite wrestler after years of being an avid fan, watching every match, memorizing every finishing move, collecting every figurine— it’s a little too specific but it makes sense in Jungkook’s case. You would understand this analogy perfectly, having grown alongside him during his iconic wrestling phase (before volleyball). You had indulged him in his interest, had let him practice those Do Not Try at Home moves on you again and again, even when you knew it ended with you bruised and crying, the twin pigtails you used to rock as a kid uneven and messy. But as your best friend, you had let him twist your arm and pin you to the count of three, because that’s what a good best friend did. 

And as your best friend, Jungkook was gearing himself up to completely, thoroughly rock your virgin world. Because that’s what a good best friend did.

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[quirklessidiot]

title : cigarettes and parfaits [1] pairing : older!nanami kento x younger!reader [13 year age gap, ft toji fushiguro] Genre: romance, fluff, super duper mild angst, slice of life, josei, bad comedy, strangers to lovers au

Summary: you’re pretty sure you’d remember marrying a man 13 years older than you, right?

Warnings: alcohol, smoking, very,very mild smut, y/n making stupid decisions, everyones a human-au so yeh non-canon stuff and everyone’s happy (periODT BECAUSE NANAMI DESERVES HAPPINESS)

Notes: after repeatedly giving you jjk angst, i have been very happy to announce that i am able to write something fluffy now. Yay! (Anyways this is based on the manga sesame salt and pudding, yall better read that. It’s just *chefs kiss*) also this may or may not be written ebcause of the amount of smoll nanami content i’m seeing around this site hmPH 

masterlist  || taglist || [next  ; updates every friday]

The sound of your alarm blared at the crack of dawn, making you immediately jerk up in an unfashionable manner, you shouldn’t drink on Sunday nights. Good lord,  why did you even do that?-

Your thoughts are cut short though when you feel something, better yet, someone, next to you. It’s dark but you could definitely tell that whoever this stranger is, had settled himself quite comfortably by your side. You blink once then twice then slowly reached out to switch your lamp open to get a good look on who was next to you.

Thankfully, you’re still in your clothes from last night.

Also, who the fuck is this?

Your brows are furrowed together as you try to remember who this person was. Blonde hair and jaw so sharp that it could probably cut the vegetables on your kitchen counter, some fine lines littered his face as he wrinkled his forehead in his sleep.

The tie on his neck is loose as you slowly peered to observe him even more and for some odd reason that made your ears turn bright red as you check out his rather lean figure (he wasn’t overly muscular, he was just right)

“Oh shit.” You mumbled, snapping out of your daze, you had to focus! This was a stranger for crying out loud, “Who the-”

Before you could even say anything more, his eyes shot open and you’re greeted by chocolate brown eyes. You try to stutter out a reply, clearly in your frazzled state the only thing you could let out was, “What the fuck?”

“Oh, you’re awake.” his voice was deep and quite raspy, and daresay, it suited his rather sharp appearance.

Was this stranger awake this whole time that you were gawking at him under the dim light? Your ears turn even a brighter shade of pink. Was it just the heater or was this room getting hotter than it should be?

Yet despite your flustered state though, he thankfully remains oblivious, “Are you feeling any better?” he asks.

Despite his bland facial expression, there was a certain warmth in his tone and that made your heart beat quicken. It wasn’t everyday that you’d wake up to find a good looking older gentleman next to you after all, “I’m good…” You shyly replied, the confidence you had moments ago while you were cursing him was gone when you heard his soft tone, “I- sorry but who are you? What happened?”

He stares at you for a moment and purses his lips, “Nanami Kento.” he introduces himself briefly. From the likes of it, he seemed like a professional, “To be honest, I don’t have much recollection from last night due to the alcohol. When I woke up a few moments ago, you wouldn’t let go and I had no choice but to lay there and wait for you to wake up.”

You paled just a bit at his explanation and turned bright red right after, how embarrassing! Not only did you just embarrass yourself in front of this older gentleman awhile ago, you did something so unlike you last night! Thank god this ojisan was a lot more calmer than you. He didn’t even look that perplexed or annoyed by your state at all.

He runs his hands through his soft blonde hair after and lets out a low groan.

“D-Does your head hurt, Nanami-san?”

“Yes.”

“I-would you-” you tried to stammer a few words out yet you're immediately cut off by his phone ringing.

Right, boundaries. You shouldn’t overstep them since you already did so much last night to disturb him despite you two being so out of it. You watch him as he answers his cell phone in a quick and suave manner, all traces of hungover gone, “Nanami speaking.” He greets as soon as he answers the call, “I understand. Please try to help them out and I apologize for the inconvenience.”

He ends the call and stands up, tightening his tie. Despite him spending the night here, he still looked orderly and it’s so unfair because right now, you knew you looked like absolute shit with the alcohol and booze in your system.

“I have to take my leave now. I apologize for intruding.” he bows down formally.

You’re pretty sure you were the one who intruded, his actions makes you immediately stand up despite the throbbing headache which was definitely a wrong move because the moment you did, you felt your legs giving out.

Great.

“I-sorry, I would bow…” You tried to stammer out an apology, ears bright red once again, just how much could you embarrass yourself in front of this gentleman?  “Sorry for the intrusion too Nanami-san.”

He leaves without saying anything much to your relief and as soon as you hear your front door close, you scream right at the pillow.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid!” You muffled at the pillow.

Thank God you wouldn’t be seeing him ever again!

“L/N-sensei.”

You turn to find Maki and Megumi standing there, they were members of a rather elite family in Tokyo, Most often you avoided bumping shoulders with Megumi’s father since he was, well, quite a tease and although you do admit that Toji Zen’in is a very good-looking and fine man from a very good background, you couldn’t look past the fact that you taught his kids mathematics and there was a good fifteen year age gap between you two, “Hi there.” A warm smile dances on your lips, “Is this about the earlier math problem again?”

The question was directed to Maki, Megumi wasn’t one to ask questions about his lessons since he wasn’t fond of academics.

“Actually, it isn’t. Toji-ojisan says you should come to his birthday.” Maki shrugged, “He says his 40th birthday wouldn’t be complete if you weren’t there.”

Ah, that’s why Megumi didn’t want to go alone. The young boy’s cheeks are painted pink, clearly embarrassed by his father’s antics, “Ah,” You laughed, trying to play it cool. Despite his father’s relentless teasing, he had never made you feel uncomfortable. If he hadn’t been asking you out a few times, you’d consider him a friend, “Your otosan does love to joke around a lot doesn’t he, Megumi-kun?”

“I could deck him for you if you’d like, sensei. I swear that old man needs to realize that you’re way too young and good for him.” He mumbles the last part, clearly annoyed.

“Oh have you gotten married, L/N-sensei?” Maki cuts her younger cousin off suddenly, clearly surprised, “I thought you never had a boyfriend..or girlfriend...or a lover…”

“I- excuse me?” You sweatdrop, “Married, where?”

“Am I mistaken? You have a silver band on your ring finger at your left hand.” Maki points out, “Congrats sensei! It seems like Toji-ojisan won’t be bothering you anymore!”

You were too much in a frazzled state this morning that you hadn’t even noticed the ring band on your finger. You weren’t married, heck, you haven’t dated since college but where in the hell did you get this ring?

“L/N-san?” You’re snapped back to reality by a coworker, “We have two new enrollees, would you mind handling them since they’ll be added to your section?”

“Right,” You smile, “That’s my cue to leave. I’ll get going now. Enjoy your snack time.”

Before Maki could say anything more about the silverband on your ring finger, you scurried away to the faculty room, shaking that weird feeling off since you had to get back to work. 

Job first, ring later.

As you went in, two abnormally bleached pink hair stood out and you could immediately tell that they were going to be the new kids that you’d be teaching. You walk closer, realizing how much they looked alike despite the markings on the other.

“Hi, Good morning.” You greeted kindly, “You must be the new kids.”

“Ah,” the one with tattoo markings on his face gloated, “Aren’t you too bright?”

“Sukuna, shut up.” his twin frowned, “Sorry Sensei, My brother isn’t feeling so well since our ojisan had told us off before going to school.”

It seemed like the other twin would be a handful, nevertheless, you were still going to be his teacher so you let out a small smile, “It’s fine.” You waved off, “We all have bad days, don’t we? I’m L/N-sensei and I’ll be your homeroom and math teacher.”

“Hai.” The one without tattoos replied, enthusiasm leaking on his tone, “Itadori Yuuji and this is Itadori Sukuna, please take care of us.”

You watch Yuuji force his twin to bow down to show a sign of respect. For a high schooler, Sukuna and Yuuji’s parents seemed so lax, bleached hair and tattoos? That was definitely a first one on your list. You take a look at the data they passed and a small frown settles on your lips, it seemed like you had to take back the words you said earlier.

Both their parents had died a few years ago.

You cleared your throat and tried to put on the smile and enthusiasm from earlier, “I’ll be sure to introduce you to the class right after break and since it’s your first day I’ll be lax but please try not to go in late again.”

Yuuji’s grin remains the same as he agrees enthusiastically while Sukuna still looks mildly uninterested, something that you realize oh-so quickly that you’ll have to get used to.

After introducing the twins to the class, you settle on your desk at the faculty and peer at the ring on your finger. The only conclusion you could come up with was that this was from the older gentleman from the night before but why would he even give you a ring?

It didn’t even look cheap and it was surprisingly just your size, meaning it was definitely for you.

You inwardly let out a groan as you placed your hand on top of your eyes. God, you definitely needed to lay off the alcohol next time. You feel the phone in your pocket start to ring, peerlessly glancing at the unknown number. People really need to lay off the scam calls.

“Hello, I’m sorry I’m not-”

“Yo-ho, is this Y/N-chan?” The voice on the other line is so unfamiliar yet familiar at the same time.

“Uh, who is this?”

“Is your husband with you?” the voice sounds so playful and teasing that you almost ignore what he had just said earlier.

“E-Excuse me?” You sputtered out, cheeks turning red, “I don’t have a husband.”

“Huh…” the playful voice switches to disappointment, “Don’t tell me you forgot what happened with us last night, L/N-chan.”

You feel something bubbling on your stomach, oh no, this definitely didn’t sound good!

“I- wait, what? who are you? What do you mean? what happened?” countless of questions started to pile up in your head and out of your mouth, panic immediately engulfing you because for a prank call this guy sounded way too legit, confirming your irresponsibility the night before. 

“Silly Y/N-chan. How could you ever forget me? I’m such an important person! I’m Gojo Satoru, your witness from your wedding!” 

taglist (if crossed out, i cant tag u im so sorry ack ;-;)

 ; @coldbookworm  ; @frankenstein852  ;  @neavil​  ; @shephard17895​   @kristineyoshaii​ ; @airybnb​​

@Kurok1717 ;  @hcn421 ;  @shinhiromi ;  @airybnb ;    ; ​

[ltleflrt]

#33 for the prompt thing ❤️

33. On a post-it note (Also on AO3)

Dean is not an optimist.  How can he be, when life literally only hands him lemons?  Dead mom, deadbeat dad, a little brother who ran off to college half a continent away while Dean slogged through tech support calls to pay for what Sam’s fancy scholarship doesn’t cover.  Hell, he can’t even use the tuition reimbursement benefit from his own job because he works so much overtime to make ends meet.

And tech support is a miserable ass job.  Some days he wonders if it would be better for his mental health to quit this place and go turn tricks.  Maybe he could find himself a sugar daddy who’ll appreciate his pretty lips and perky nipples.  

When his watch beeps the one minute warning for the end of his break, he sighs mournfully over the loss of his fantasy daddy and the naps he’d get to take while not busy bending over for someone who actually appreciates the position he’s in.  Time to go back to the phones, and bend over for Corporate America instead.  

At least the insurance is good, and the 401k will be worth it someday.

And there’s Cas.

A smile ticks up Dean’s lips as he nears his desk and sees his boyfriend spinning back and forth in his chair, head tilted back on the seat, headset on and messing up the neat part Castiel’s hair had started the day with.  One of his long fingers is curling in and out of the headset cord, and he sounds far less bored than he looks as he walks his customer through installing a software update.

“Yes, ma’am it does take a few minutes.  There’s a lot of files to unpack.” Blue eyes look up as Dean sneaks past him to get to his own desk.  One eye drops closed in a wink.

Dean makes a kissy face at him as he settles down in his own chair and pulls his headset on.  Then he turns to his computer with another defeated sigh as he reaches for the keyboard to log in.  But he’s distracted by a neon green post-it with familiar handwriting.

Good things DO happen!

Unlike Dean, Castiel is optimistic as fuck.  

Rolling his eyes, Dean snatches up the post-it and crumples it into a ball.  He tosses it at Cas, nailing him right in the nose, and making him scramble for the mute button before his laughter bursts free.  

“Watch it, Winchester,” Cas murmurs into the space between their desks.  “I’ll get you back for that.”

“Ain’t scared,” Dean counters as he types in his login info.  He casts a glance at Castiel as his headphones beep and his automated greeting plays for the customer on the line.

Castiel beams back at him.  “Yes, ma’am, let the computer restart.”

Dean grins back, and the smile carries through in his voice as he begins his call.  He hopes this one gets a survey, because they’re going to be pleased as punch with him.  He always does great on his surveys now that he and Cas have stopped dancing around each other and actually made things official.  It’s been the best six months of his life, and not even the really nasty customers can completely bring him down.

He forgets all about Castiel’s threat until he comes in a few days later to find his desk plastered with post-its of all different colors.  They cover the monitor and the keyboard and his Cisco phone.  The whole tiny surface of his desk is covered in a rainbow of little flaps of paper.  They’re even all over his chair, even down to the wheels.  

His team members all cast him expectant looks, mostly with gleeful smiles.  Even Frank, his crotchety old bastard of a supervisor is grinning.  Kaia is holding up her phone, and he knows there’s going to be pictures or a video of his reaction plastered all over social media today.

“Hm, I wonder who did this,” Castiel says mildly from behind Dean.

“Very funny, Cas,” Dean mutters as he starts plucking post-its from the seat of his chair.  He’d like to be able to at least sit down while he cleans up this mess.  “How many pads did you go through for this?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Castiel’s poker face belongs at a high stakes table in Vegas.  Even though it’s clearly his handwriting on the post-its, and his signature Good thinks DO happen! written all over them, Dean nearly almost believes him.  

With a disbelieving snort, Dean starts clearing away post-its.  He tries for all of thirty seconds to seem annoyed by the work, but he can’t hold back the dopey smile as he cleans up the mess.  

As he’s clearing the last of them from his monitor his hand freezes as he comes across one post-it that says something different from all the rest.  He plucks it from the monitor, and stares down at it.  Three little words, followed by a dorky little heart.  They haven’t said it to each other yet, but Dean knows he’s already there.  And his heart swells with affection as he holds the confirmation that the sentiment is returned pinched between his fingers.

He sticks it to the bottom of his monitor, where it’ll be easy to see, but out of his way.  And then he slides open his desk drawer and grabs a yellow pad of post-its.  He writes the words slowly, gently.  And then rolls his chair over into Castiel’s space.  He waits until Castiel looks up at him, and the shy smile on his face makes Dean even more sure that he means what he’s about to do.

He sticks the post-it right in the center of Castiel’s monitor.

I love you too, sweetheart <3

[moccahobi]

Buried Truths [Chapter 2]

Summery: A Jackson Wang party. Normally you wouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. Tonight though, you were going to help your best friend, Youngjae, confess to his long term crush. He would be leaving the party tonight with a date. You didn’t expect to be forced to spend time with people you never wanted to see again. Oh, how many secrets would be revealed tonight?

Pairing: Youngjae x Jaeboem, Acesexual!Reader x Jinyoung (somewhat?)

Rating: 17+

Series warnings: gore, mildly toxic actions

Word Count:  3.2k

Genre: Supernatural AU, horror, angst, alcohol

A/N: This fic is not focused on romance. There is a romantic side plot but this is a thriller/horror/supernatural centric fic. Also! This is the first fic where I am talking about/show casing asexuality. As an ace person myself, I really love seeing ace representation and aim to write more fics that showcase ace relationships!

A/N2: Thank you so so much to @ssaboala​ for reading this fic over for me! Her comments and assurance helped me so much!

Chapter 1 < Masterlist > Chapter 3 (finale)

“You got really scared.”

“Of course! I was… and now the door isn’t opening. Can one of you try to open the door on the other side?”

The door jiggled, “I can’t open it.” Yugyeom said, his voice full of worry as he tried again. 

“What? No. No. No. It should open.” Bambam said, worry growing in his voice as he surged forward to try to open the door. 

“It looks locked. Maybe it was slightly unlocked or the door automatically locks… I saw a bunch of keys at the entrance.” It was Jaeboem, his voice getting more distant as he walked towards the entrance. 

You sat on the top step of the basement, trying to ignore the sea of darkness that was the basement at your feet as you took deep breaths. Coming in here was a mistake. Coming into this house was a mistake. Seeing Jinyoung again was a mistake. 

Bambam sat next to you, his breathing unsteady as he shifted uncomfortably, “I am sorry. I am so sorry. I didn’t think this would happen… I didn’t even realize you were here.”

“What?”

“Most of the guys don’t give me any attention… I wanted to see some of them show care to me for once…”

Anger bubbled in you as you realized what he did. He locked you both in… well… he slammed the door on you both. He looked scared though. 

“I-- You closed this door on us?” 

He nodded.

“Why?”

“Listen… You seemed to be accepted right away into this friend group… I didn’t. I am Jinyoung’s friend and I think Jackson likes me some… The others though? I don’t know. They seem to care for me when I am hurt or scared though,” Bambam spared you a glance before looking back into the basement, “Youngjae seems to dislike me most. I’m sure you know that he doesn’t like me much though.”

You were flustered at that, “O-Oh. I-”

“He vents about you sometimes. Nothing major… just the occasional complaint about you. I figured that if he vents about you, someone he likes, he probably vents about me since I am someone he doesn’t like.”

“I--” You sighed. What were you supposed to tell him? 

That Youngjae found him absolutely annoying and felt he wasn’t part of the friend group? That Youngjae often vented about Bambam’s work competency? That Youngjae was tired of Bambam always being around? 

“I am sorry. He can be a little judgemental sometimes.” 

Bambam nodded, “Youngjae cares a lot about his friends and I admire that a ton. He seems to be faily defensive of his friends as well.” 

“And opinionated,” You hesitated… were you about to tell this near stranger something you hadn’t been able to tell anyone yet? “I dropped out of college last year and haven’t had the energy to tell him yet. I know what he’ll say and I am not ready for it. I’ve not told anyone… but you now. Please don’t tell anyone.” 

“I won’t. That’d be an asshole thing for me to do. I won’t tell anyone what you said about your bestie.” Bambam laughed and bumped shoulders with you, “How come you dropped out?” 

“College is rough. I was a pre-med major since my parents wanted me to become a doctor, but I never wanted to be one. Didn’t even want to go to college but I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life and my parents had a plan.”

“That sounds frustrating.”

“It was and last year, I was really struggling. Pre-med is hard. I am not a science person. I figured if I dropped out and picked up some odd jobs while acting like I was still in school, I’d eventually find something and be able to tell people then.”

“Have you?”

“No. I’m a bartender and waitress right now… I barely have time to indulge in my hobbies.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t be. I chose this path… I get to deal with the consequences of it.” 

Bambam nodded, “I am sorry for locking you in here.”

You laughed, “Don’t stress. As long as the lights work, I am fine. Besides, this place is much smaller and I feel sa-” You stopped talking as you felt something feather light brush against your calf. You readjusted your leg, moving it slightly away from the basement stairs.

What the fuck?

“You feel safe here despite the basement being right in front of us?” Bambam laughed, leaning back as he looked around the small space, “I guess the space is nice and there isn’t much to keep an eye on.” 

Nodding, you leaned forward, looking down the stairs and trying to find whatever brushed your leg… Nothing.

Maybe it was dust or a spider web? 

“Yeah… It is nicer--” 

What felt like a hand gripped your ankle tightly, yanking you harshly. You found yourself tumbling down the basement stairs, screaming and trying to grab onto anything that would slow your descent. All the while, your head bounced against the stairs like a hollow basketball. Whatever was dragging you let go as you landed roughly on the hard concrete floor of the basement, leaving you breathless and in pain. 

“Noona! Are you ok?” Bambam shouted, his steps as he ran down the stairs heavy and booming in your head. When he reached you, he gingerly helped you up.

“I think so?” You started, wincing as you tried to stand up, the ankle that whatever grabbed you touched was hurting to stand on, “I don’t know… I am in a lot of pain. Am I bleeding?”

Bambam shook his head, about to say something when rough knocking came at the door.

“Y/n-ah! Are you ok?” Jackson’s voice sounded far away from in the basement. He sounded worried as well and it made you feel conflicted. He’d never shown you worry before… but you had made a lot of noise coming down so it was in theory natural that he would be worried about you. You were his sister and he wasn’t heartless.

“I-I think I am! Did you all find the key?” You shouted back, not daring to try walking yet. 

“We’ve found some but none have worked on the door.”

You sighed and shook your head. 

“Do you think you can help me up the stairs?” You asked Bambam.

“I am sorry, Noona. I don’t think I am strong enough to. I think maybe Jackson or Jinyoung will be able to help you up.”

You nodded, gingerly rotating your ankle to test the throbbing pain. It was most definitely sprained. 

“Huh… We don’t have cellular out here.” Bambam remarked as he turned on his phone’s flashlight and slowly looked around the space. It was odd that you didn’t have cellular… you weren’t far from the other house nor were you really out in the nature yet somehow, cellular wasn’t here. It probably wasn’t a big deal. This house was probably in a random blackout spot but the idea of no cellular still left you feeling a little sick.

Bambam barely moved around at first as he cautiously looked at the many dusty items that were in the basement, eventually moving around some. A dresser, some dark colored curtains that were hung up on the wall, and way too many boxes with more stuff. The stuff was covered in a ton of dust that blanketed the space and seemed to sparkle in the flashlight beam. 

Above them, they heard the creaky footsteps of the others trying to find a way to open the door. Muddles conversations happening as someone shared good news also leaked through the floorboards. 

Was Youngjae using this time to confess to Jaeboem? 

Would you want your best friend to be confessing instead of trying to save you?

Part of you felt excited at the idea of Youngjae might be confessing right now. He’d been trying for over a year to get the courage to. Somehow, if the worry of you hurt in a basement made it feel less scary or loosened his lips, maybe that was good. Another part of your mind whispered that if he was confessing, was he spending much time trying to save you? Was he even worried about it?

You took a deep breath and sighed. Of course he cared for you. Of course he was worried about you. 

“Yoooo! Noona! Look! This closet is full of kid dresses! I wonder where the kid is now!” Bambam said excitedly, breaking your thoughts as he flicked through the dusty garments. 

You hobbled over, looking at the faded fabrics with their intricate sewn on details. Whoever this child was, they lived a very fancy life. This house was big and it was the second house on this property, these fancy dresses cemented the wealth of the child’s family. As you examined a specific dress more closely, Bambam started to look around again. He paused and hit your shoulder lightly.

“What?”

“N-Noona? Can you turn around for me?” His voice wavered as he started to shuffle backwards, his back brushing against the children’s clothes.

Slowly, you turned around, looking at Bambam questioningly.

“Do you see something moving in the shadows?” 

You looked out, the darkness swirling as you tried to adjust and look out. Nothing seemed to be moving, not even the dusty curtains that were facing you. That was shocking because they rested on a rusty bar that looked like a few harsh movements of moving air would make it topple. 

“I do-”

Something moved. 

It was in the corner of your eye but as you and Bambam looked over, a small trinket that had been resting on top of one of the boxes, was wobbling around. Bambam squeaked and ran behind you, your body eclipsing his flashlight as he hid. Stealing up all your confidence, you gently took Bambam’s phone and slowly walked up to the trinket. 

It was a children’s toy. 

A faded wooden car with two of its wheels missing. It wobbled on the box as if trying to rebalance itself. 

“M-Maybe it was w-wind?” You asked, reaching out and grabbing the car to stabilize it.

“Sure Jan, and I am totally not scared right now. I think Yugyeom was right. There’s a ghost here.” Bambam says as he looks at the car in your hands, trying to see if there was something going on that would lead to it moving so much.

Right as you opened your mouth to speak, the door banged open. Its handle hit the wall with an audible crack! Bambam and you jumped at the sound and you dropped the car, frozen in place as people started rushing down stairs.

Jackson is the first to make it down the stairs, jumping down the last three steps as he rushed to your side, “Y-n-ah! Are you ok?” He asked, looking you over worriedly.

“I am fine.” You said, his hands feeling like fire on your skin, his worry a foreign presence in your life. It made you feel a little sick at the thought of how caring he was acting.

Why was he so worried now? 

What gave him the right when for so long he’s been distant from you?

“You absolutely are not fine. Your ankle is at the very least sprained.” Bambam said, eyeing you and Jackson.

“I would be worried about a concussion as well. I heard a lot of bumping on your fall down. You took quite a fall, Y/n-ssi.” Jaeboem said when he joined the group, Youngjae quickly rushing over and hugging you tightly as Jaeboem spoke. 

“Let’s get you out. I can help you up the stairs.” Youngjae said, hooking his arm under yours as he started walking towards the stairs slowly. 

You looked back and watched as a sad look grew on Bambam’s face as he watched Youngjae help you away on his own. As you turned your eyes forward, you caught Jackson’s gaze, worry written all over his face. 

God. 

Tonight is becoming messier by the second… and you are in a haunted house. 

Were you going to survive tonight? 

Youngjae and you slowly hobbled up the stairs and despite your eyes focused on the steps you were taking, you felt the eyes of people all around you. Their gazes felt unnatural and creepy on you, your skin crawling under them. You were ready to go home, crash, and pretend tonight didn’t happen (aside from celebrating Youngjae and Jaeboem getting together)... and maybe see if Bambam wanted to become friends. Tonight could be a fever dream that, with repeated retelling, you completely rewrite. 

With a content sigh, Youngjae set you down in a rickety chair in the main living space, the moist smell of mildew greeting you as you sunk into the chair. Jinyoung dragged over a table with a painful SCREECH and gently guided your legs up to rest on the table. 

“Does it hurt to put pressure on your foot?” He asked, his hands gently holding and checking your ankle. His touch felt scalding on your skin and in any other situation, you would have quickly yanked your foot away from him. Tonight though, you found your energy waning. 

You nodded, when he looked up at you, refusing to speak. Given, you didn’t have energy or strength to talk to him right now. The guilt over Jackson and Bambam was starting to choke you and you had no idea if you could control what you said to Jinyoung if you spoke. 

“It is starting to swell as well,” He got up and got closer to you, he reached out before stopping, “Does your head hurt?” 

Did it? 

You didn’t have a headache. Slowly, you reached up and started to feel around your head, fear of blood or a tender spot rising in your throat. 

With great relief, you felt no pain and shook your head. 

“That’s good. You may still want to get checked out but unless there is another spot you’re feeling a lot of pain, it may just be a badly sprained ankle.”

“I am glad. With how fast you fell down those stairs, I was worried, noona.” Bambam said, coming closer and eyeing your ankle. 

You avoided Youngjae’s eyes as you nodded, “I… I don’t remember even hitting my ankle on anything. I don’t know how it got sprained… but it did feel like someone grabbed my ankle.”

“Bambam-ah, did you see anyone else in the basement?” Jackson asked, as Mark walked towards the basement door and looked down the stairs. If he saw more than the swirling darkness that bathed the basement, he didn’t react.“No… Not a person… I um… I did see some shadows move though… but I didn’t see a person.”

Youngjae scoffed, “It was a small basement, you probably saw part of your shadow on another wall. Did you see a shadow, Y/n-ah?”

All eyes were on you then and it felt like they were short circuiting your mind as you tried to think of what happened back in the basement. You saw a shadow… right? Was it just your mind? Or one of your own shadows? 

Did you even see one? 

Your brain was getting fuzzy as you tried to think back to the basement. You were pulled down, Bambam came, the two of you walked around, you saw a little car toy… Was there a shadow?

“I-I don’t know.” You said slowly, looking at everyone. 

Bambam was looking at you with hurt etched into his face as Youngjae laughed humorlessly, “I think you were seeing stuff then, Bambam-ah.”

Youngjae’s laugh cut through you, hurting you more than your ankle was. You couldn’t handle it and you couldn’t forget how rude Youngjae was being. This wasn’t like him… even if he was a little snarky sometimes. 

“I d-don’t think he was seeing st-stuff.” 

“You said yourself that you didn’t see anyone though!” Youngjae said exasperatedly, throwing his hands up as he spoke loudly.

“And I believe Bambam-ah.”

Yugyeom coughed, “Shadows or not, Y/n might need medical attention. We should leave.”

Jaeboem nodded.

“Wait! If it is just a sprained ankle, can we have her rest for a little while longer? I would love to explore a little more. Just fifteen or so minutes. Nothing too long.” Bambam asked, his eyes wide and lips in a big pout as he looked around at everyone and pleaded.

“No. Y/n needs to leave.” Youngjae said, moving towards you to lift you up.

Bambam looked over at you with his puppy dog eyes as he clasped his hands together in a plea to stay just a little longer. 

You sighed and shook your head, “I’ll be fine with another fifteen minutes here. Don’t worry about me. If my ankle gets worse or I feel more pain elsewhere, I’ll say and we can leave.” 

Jackson looked like he was about to protest but before he could, Jinyoung stood up, patting you on the shoulder, “Listen, I’m the only one certified in first aid. Y/n-ah will be fine. Let’s keep exploring. I know I have another place I want to explore myself. Bambam-ah, how about you join me?” 

Bambam nodded excitedly as a smile spread on his face. Jinyoung and Bambam started to walk deeper into the house, Mark quickly jogging to catch up to them. The tension that filled the room was palpable as you and Youngjae looked at each other with questioning gazes, neither wanting to back down. 

“Yugyeom-ah, Jackson-ah, want to see a giant study Youngjae and I found? It is super cool! With tons of books.” Jaeboem said, seperating from Youngjae to get closer to the other guys still in the room, an awkward smile that didn’t meet his eyes plastered on his face.

“Sure. Plus, I think that Youngjae and Y/n will want some alone time to talk.” Yugyeom said as he shot you two an annoyed glance, his words finally making you look away in shame.

Tonight has been borderline traumatic and knowing that you’re getting on everyone’s nerves is making it one hundred times worse. You’d wanted to make friends… not make your best friend’s friend group hate you. 

When Jackson, Yugyeom, and Jaeboem finally left, you sighed deeply and shook your head. You were tired and even though you were fine with being here for another fifteen minutes, you wanted to go home. The soft blankets and fluffy pillows on your bed were calling to you… so was the start of a new day. Maybe you’d wake up and find out that you had gotten blackout drunk and this was all a stupid ass dream.

“Are you and Bambam friends now?” Youngjae asked, his voice small as he looked at you. He looked nervous and small now, which was much different from his borderline angry expression earlier. 

“He seems like a cool person.” You shrugged, refusing to look at Youngjae. This was a new side of him and with all the guilt today, you didn’t know if you could handle this side. 

On any other day, you might’ve gotten so excited. Youngjae didn’t open up to you tons and while there was some reason he was so closed off, it hurt that he was so closed off. Especially because he was the only person you told some stuff to. He knew you had a tense relationship with your family, that you dropped out of college, that you worked at a bar, and that you recently realized you were aroace. He knew all that and more. He knew every vulnerable thing about you, yet he was only ever vulnerable to you once: When he told you that he had a crush on Jaeboem.

“Yeah. He does seem cool… but I am cooler right?” His voice sounded hopeful as he asked and it made you feel sick.

“That’s what you’re worried about? If you’re cooler to me than some dude I met today? One, you’re my best friend, of fucking course you’re cooler in my eyes. Two, him being cool doesn’t excuse how rude you’ve been to Bambam since we’ve exited the basement. He’s been nothing but kind and caring to me. I get you find him annoying but-”

“I don’t find him annoying.” Youngjae sighed, “He’s cool. I know he is… I just… I am close to Jaeboem hyung and Mark hyung but I am not that close to others in the group. Bambam gets along with everyone… sure sometimes it felt more forced to me but I guess it didn’t to others? Jinyoung is a bit of a tsundere if you’ve noticed and yet he warmed right up to Bambam! I’ve been trying to get close to Jinyoung forever and yet I just can’t seem to.” 

His words shocked you. They hung in the air and clung to you with desperation as you processed everything he was saying. Insecure in his place in the group? Worried about someone replacing him? 

Youngjae hesitated before moving closer and resting his hand on your knee, “I don’t know why but with most people, it feels like there’s a wall up between me and them. If it weren’t for you and Jaebeom and Mark making the first steps for stuff, I probably wouldn’t have gotten so close to you all.” 

“I am sure that isn’t true at all, Oppa. You managed to ask Jaeboem out, right? I thought I heard that from the basement.” You said, pulling him onto your lap as the chair groaned in protest. 

Your ankle was already sprained. The chair breaking on you wouldn’t be the end of the world, especially when Youngjae was being this vulnerable. You hugged him tightly, trying to give all your love and admiration to him through it. 

“He asked me out. I didn’t.” 

“Ok? And? You two are going on a date later, right?” 

He nodded.

“So you’re crossing that barrier. Who invited you here?” 

“Jackson hyung.”

“So he wanted you to come and you took the step to get closer. That’s saying something, Oppa.”

“He invited Bambam too… I found out earlier tonight. I just assumed Bambam came as a plus one… God. I’ve been such an asshole to Bambam.”

You laughed at that and pinched Youngjae’s arm, “You have been a bit of one tonight. I can’t comment on anything before tonight, but maybe you can reflect on your interactions and apologize to him?”

“Y/n-ahhhhh, why would you say that word to meeee.” Youngjae whined with a light giggle, “You know me and apologize don’t go well together.”

“Well, I think it needs to. Bambam is part of your friend group afterall. Plus, I think you two would get along if you got out of your head and gave him a chance.” 

Youngjae sighed deeply, “You’re right. I will. Thank you for listening.” 

“Of course I’m right,” You laughed and hugged Youngjae tighter, “And I am here for you. Always.”

“I am glad. Now… do you want to hear about how Jaeboem hyung asked me out?” He giggled excitedly as he asked, the chair squeaking loudly against the floor as he adjusted in your lap, launching into his small speel about it. 

You were excited, genuinely, as he spoke about Jaeboem and him slowly walking into study of the place. They'd lightly talked about their life before Jaeboem suddenly shifted the conversation to dates. Jaeboem was the one who eventually asked Youngjae out. It was fun to watch as Youngjae’s eyes lit up in excitement. Somehow, the conversation evolved into him rambling about future dates he might plan.

A particularly strong stab of pain in your ankle tore you from your excitement. You were hurt and tired… and not once has Youngjae asked. Sure, he helped you up and you professed to the group that you were ok but… he was your best friend and not once when alone did he ask. 

But he’d been dealing with a lot too! The conversation on his mind was a natural reason for him to blank on checking in again on you after you so explicitly stated that you were ok. It was understandable that something like you acting more ok than you were would slip his mind, he opened up some about not being ok.

Were you being selfish? Had you overreacted? Was he not thinking past himself? All could be true… but that didn’t stop the guild that once again started to brew turbulently in your stomach. Tonight was such a mixed bag and you just wanted to leave before much else happened. 

Holding back a sigh, you nodded absentmindedly to what Youngjae was saying as you started to look around the main space. The living space was less dusty than the basement but there was still tons of dust in their air. You could see that in the thin slivers of moonlight that shone through the house. Maybe it had been as dusty as the basement but because of all the movement, the dust has been moved around… and you hadn’t noticed when you entered the house originally. You slowly traced up the stairs, past the few broken steps and up to the second floor, trying to see if there was more dust on the second floor. 

You couldn’t tell though, the space too dark.

Wait-- 

Was that a light? 

Squinting to see better, you noticed a small light flash from the balcony on the second floor. It flickered in and out, a few other small specks of light joining it. If it wasn’t for how cold of a tone the light was, you might’ve guessed that it was fireflies taking advantage of the abandoned house for safe shelter. Plus, the lights seemed to be present for much longer than fireflies are and moved around too much. 

You watched carefully, the rest of the world melting away as the lights slowly became much more present. 

Jaeboem moved in front of where the small lights were, asking something of Youngjae that you completely missed as you slowly refocused on the world around you. 

“Y/n-ah, Jaeboem and I are going to look through the kitchen cabinets. Do you want to stay here or join?” He asked, a large smile on his face as he got up to hold Jaeboem’s hand.

“I’ll stay here. You two have fun.” You said, trying to muster up all your energy to sound excited… though you didn’t know if you did. 

That being said, it must’ve convinced Jaeboem and Youngjae because they nodded and walked away, leaving you in the fragile quiet of the main space. You took a deep breath when he left, almost happy that he’d left you alone. His excitement was wonderful normally but tonight, for some reason, it was draining you. 

Rolling your shoulders, you adjusted in the seat which was growing more and more uncomfortable the longer you were sitting on it. It was a very old seat and as you shifted around, you started to feel the groove of wear from someone who probably sat in it for too long all the time. You sighed and closed your eyes, enjoying the reprieve from people. 

“Ya, dongsaeng… are you ok?” It was Jackson. 

He’d quickly shuffled into the room and sat down before you even realized. Worry was painted all over his face as he looked you over himself. “Not really but I will be fine. Plus, I wanted to Bambam to keep having fun. He was super spooked in the basement.”

“You sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah. Why are you asking? You never seemed to care about me before.” 

Jackson looks hurt, “I do care. You’re my sister. I love you. I want the best for you.”

“You have a weird way of showing it. Always thought you were disappointed in me.” You said with a scoff. Maybe Jackson did care right now and was hurt but that didn’t make up for all the years he ignored you or pressured you into stuff that you didn’t want to do. You had the right to be upset and wary of his sudden care. 

Jackson looked like he wanted to say more, his chest filling with courage to say something. As you looked, anxiety pooling in your stomach, you prepared yourself for his hurtful words. 

You couldn’t seem to avoid anything tonight… including Jackson’s harsh words. . He is about to say something when, BANG! Front door slams shut and won’t unlock.

BAM!

You flinched as Jackson jumped and screamed, his eyes wide and face flushing as he looked around for the sound, leaving you alone.

“The front door! It’s locked!” Jackson shouted out and soon after, everyone seemed to be running to the front door. You heard the jiggles of people trying and trying to open the door echo through the house and growing louder until it was all you could hear. 

Fuck. Your head was aching.

Curling into yourself, you took deep breaths and tried to help ease some of the building pain behind your eyes. People were arguing now, their voices raising with frustration as they discussed something.

At some point, they were back in the same space as you, talking back and forth about what to try to do next. They seemed to be talking about you but you didn’t have the energy to try to listen. Their voices seemed to be floating around you just out of hearing range like a heat mirage on a hot summer. You didn’t care to listen either. They would figure it out and then you could leave this god forsaken house. 

At some point, most of them had left the main space to explore, leaving you alone with Youngjae and Jaeboem once again. There was some mention of finding a key that you think they were searching for but you barely had the energy to keep up with what they said. You simply nodded along. 

“How are you feeling, Y/n-ssi?” Jaeboem asked, looking at you worriedly when you finally stopped nodding your head. 

“I am feeling… alright. Just tired.” You spoke slowly, part of your energy going into trying to focus on Jaeboem who was going in and out of focus. 

Youngjae nodded, a crease in his brow forming as he watched you, “Must be tired from all that’s happened. Y/n-ah isn’t very social and adventurous generally. She’s been such a trooper for me tonight… and I got us into this mess.”

“Oh?” Jaeboem asked, his head swiveling between you and Youngjae. 

Youngjae started explaining why you’d come to this party but you were struggling to focus once again on what he was saying. The lights upstairs started dancing once again. Despite how hard it was to focus on Jaeboem and Yugyeom, it was as if you could see the lights more clearly now. 

Someone was playing upstairs. Fiddling with the sticks and leaves that had trecked there for a playdate. They were dancing around and jumping excitedly with the light leaves in tow. Distantly, you heard frustrated groans and a yell of frustration, people bustling around you. 

Somewhere Mark said “Yugyeom-ah, let’s go to the kitchen to calm down. We will figure this out but first you need a break.” 

“Listen, I understand that you want to protect this house but at this point, we need to get out fast and get Y/n-ssi medical attention.” Yugyeom as saying when you fully came back to the present moment. 

Jackson was shaking his head tiredly as everyone else stood around them, a heavy sigh leaving him. 

“We can’t break a window to get out. There has to be a way to get out that doesn’t damage the house!” 

“Hyung! We’ve checked. I don’t get your instance of not breaking something. Surely the homeowners will understand.” Yugyeom said, waving around at others who nodded along.

“Yeah. I’ve talked to them before. They’re super understanding! I am sure they half expected something to happen at a house party too. They’ll understand.” Bambam said, smiling nervously as he watched Jackson become more and more agitated. 

“Yeah! Why can’t you listen to me? They won’t be understanding because they don’t know! I’ll get fired and they’ll charge me with a fucking crime or something! I don’t know! But we got to keep this house intact!”

Silence filled the room at Jackson’s confession, your mind slowly catching up to what he just said… the homeowners didn’t know… 

Slowly you spoke, trying hard to speak clearly, “What do you mean you didn’t get permission, opp-” 

“Don’t tell appa!” Jackson quickly cut you off, fear in his face as he pleaded with you. 

“A-Appa?” Jinyoung repeated, looking between Jackson and you suspiciously. 

“No way! Are you two siblings?” Youngjae asked, his face twisted in betrayal as he looked over at you for answers. You looked away, disappointed in yourself.

“No need to look so upset about it, dongsaeng. We both know you hate me.” Jackson scoffed and you looked up alarmed. 

You didn’t hate him. He’s the one who didn’t like you! 

“Hoel… I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” Youngjae said, his voice quiet as he turned away from you and leaned in to Jaeboem, who was looking at you with many swirling emotions.

Everyone was. 

You looked over at Bambam, hoping to see something akin to a look of understanding on his face… disappointment. Fuck. Why did you have to be such a damn screw up? 

“Listen! I-I didn’t want to ruin your relationship with him.” You sighed and curled in on yourself, ignoring the stabbing pain from your ankle as you did, “J-J-Just because he’s disappointed in me and hates my guts doesn’t mean you two can’t have a go-good relationship.” Your voice cracked as tears threatened to spill. 

This wasn’t something you wanted to talk about ever. You weren’t prepared. 

And their expressions didn’t help.

You’d disappointed everyone it seems. Mark… Yugyeom… Jaeboem… Bambam… Youngjae… Jackson… even fucking Jinyoung. 

God. Tonight has been so much.

Sighing and shaking your head, you stood up, “I-I need space. I m sorry.” 

Everyone stood still and watched silently as you hobbled upstairs, each step underlined by a sharp stabbing pain and a quiet wince. Their upset burned into you from behind. 

Maybe it was the pain or your exhaustion but the higher you climbed, the fuzzier your vision became. Your ears were ringing and body tingly as if you’d pinched a nerve by the time you made it to the top of the stairs. Somehow despite your vision becoming fuzzy and your body seemingly disconnecting from your mind, you didn’t struggle to get up the stairs. You’d made it up all in one piece and even managed to rest on the wall nearby to catch your breath. 

Those lights from earlier were even closer up here. The child in the lights danced excitedly to you, engulfing you in a hug and inviting you to play. Warmth washed over you as you played with her. Time and space fell to the wayside. 

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Next Chapter (coming 12/4)

My masterlist!

[lepusrufus]

Double edged scalpel ch.6

ch.1 ch.2 ch.3 ch.4 ch.5

Summary: It's backstory time!

Mandatory warning since this is not a usual thing on my blog so I think a separate warning would be useful, there will be talk of past abuse and alcohol abuse.

----

"Wakey wakey," came the gruff voice from just outside her bedroom door.

It was slightly muffled but more than enough to make her jolt awake, muscle memory taking over the remnants of sleep. She only had one minute to be out the door. It was more than enough though, her routine perfected over years. Get out of bed. Put socks on. Get shoes. Grab the duffel bag. She slept dressed anyways, ready to go at any time.

Or not?

Where were her clothes?

Nevermind that she had time to put something on. Just grab a shirt and pants from the dresser.

Hurried steps took her over the plush carpet. Wasn't it supposed to be a solid grey? Had her mother swapped it for one of their fancier rugs?

That didn't matter right now. Clothes. She needed clothes. When she got to her dresser she stood there, frowning at the bookshelf that now took its place. She didn't even remember acquiring the tomes in front of her, most of them old and with unfamiliar trinkets surrounding them. That's not how her bedroom was arranged. Why wasn't anything in its place? Was Alex playing a prank on her? No, he wouldn't do that.

Time was almost up and she needed some goddamn clothes and to get out and her head was starting to spin-

"Nicole?"

Her eyes snapped back to the bed she had so hastily vacated, Cassandra looking at her concerned.

From the room's entrance came another familiar voice. Bela. "I only wanted to let you know that Daniela wants to go for a hunt tomorrow." Her eyes were averted and as soon as the words left her lips, she turned and shut the door behind her, not waiting for an answer from her sister.

Confusion mixed in with dizziness, but Nicole let out a quiet oh when she fully realized where she was. Cassandra's bedroom. They came here last night and fell asleep. And she was only wearing underwear.

She went to sit on the edge of the bed, head resting in her hands to try alleviate the fog in her brain. She probably looked like hell, but that was the least of her concerns right now.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Came the uncharacteristically soft voice of Cassandra, who had moved from her spot under the blankets and was gently rubbing her back.

"Uh, nothing," Nicole replied, as if she didn't look ready to puke.

Cassandra only pursed her lips and frowned. "You looked like you simultaneously saw a ghost and were ready to fight a ghost."

She swallowed thickly and forced out a laugh. "Oh are we at "tragic backstory" relationship level now?" It was at best a pathetic attempt to change the subject and at worst annoying.

When she looked back at the brunette she was still frowning, but not in annoyance. Her golden eyes sparked with concern, scrutinizing the redhead's face and body language for any clue as to what was wrong. It sent a pang of guilt through Nicole's chest. She took a deep breath and leaned back into Cassandra's touch, trying to collect her thoughts. Where does one even begin to explain this whole mess?

"Have you ever wondered why I came here? To the village?"

"...Not really," she admitted.

Nicole took another deep breath, pulling the words from her mouth as if she were pulling out teeth with pliers.

"My dad, he…he had a bit of a weird business. We never knew the details of it, he never told any of us and we knew better than to snoop, but I do know it had something to do with drugs and was highly illegal."

Staying in one place proved itself a pesky little task, so Nicole stood up and started to collect her clothes from the floor and started dressing. Cassandra instead remained in the same spot, listening intently.

"With a job like that you make enemies by default. And that made him paranoid beyond belief. When me and Alex, my older brother, were children it wasn't that bad. Worst thing he would do was lock our bedroom doors and refuse to let us attend public school."

She narrowed her eyes at a wall, still not wanting to meet Cassandra's gaze. Now that she said it out loud, not that bad sounded pretty bad too. Whatever.

"It started going downhill when I was around…" She pursed her lips, trying to make her brain put together some semblance of a timeline. "Twelve. Yeah twelve. He came bursting into our bedrooms at 2 a.m. saying that someone with a gun had gotten into our house and wanted to kill us. We were mortified. I remember my mom holding me and Alex in the backseat crying while my dad drove us to his secluded cabin in the woods."

"And that became a habit of his. He'd have us do these drills every once in a while and then scream at us if we didn't do everything in under a minute."

"That's so fucking stupid," Cassandra spat, golden eyes gleaming with anger.

Nicole started pacing back and forth, desperate for a distraction. "Oh I know. And after a few years of this I made sure to tell him exactly how much I thought it was bullshit."

Finally coming to terms with the lack of something to do while she talked, Nicole gave up and went back to the bed. She sat down by Cassandra's side, though still avoiding her eyes.

"Do you know what getting punched in the face feels like?"

Cassandra's expression contorted into a disgusted grimace. With the hand not on Nicole's back rubbing comforting circles, she dug talons into the soft fabric of a blanket. She didn't really have an answer because frankly she didn't know. Her body reacted very differently to physical harm and the few that could hurt her wouldn't go for a stupid punch to the face. Nicole kept on talking though, not really looking for an answer.

"That shut me up for a bit. Key word a bit. When he woke me up on the night before an important test I was pissed. I just thought fuck it and went upstairs to the library. It took him around twenty minutes to find me and when he did… Well, I regretted some life choices."

"I was so done with being there in that house. Though thankfully my parents went on a business trip the next day and Alex was at a friend's for the weekend. I had the whole house to myself and decided to grab one of my mom's vintage wines and just spend the evening on the couch drinking. And that's how I became an alcoholic at the ripe old age of fifteen." She let out a humorless chuckle at the end.

That day was a blur in her mind. The only thing that she vividly remembered was Alex coming home early and finding her blackout drunk on the couch. At the end of the day though, they were both in the same boat. He just grabbed the bottle from her and started to sip away at the remaining wine. Laughing at each other's hangover the next day was the most fun they'd had in ages so it became a habit for the both of them. Every once in a while they'd go into the wine cellar, pick out a bottle and then go drink it in the attic while they pretended their problems didn't exist. It continued well into their college years. Nicole was barely able to recall doing anything during her years in med school that wasn't being drunk or studying.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. That's not where she meant to go with the story. Cassandra placing a gentle kiss on her shoulder brought her enough comfort to try and wrap it up.

"I guess in a sick ironic way my dad was right in the end though," she subconsciously shifted closer to the brunette and she wasted no time in loosely wrapping her arms around Nicole's waist.

"I was three weeks away from completing my residency when I came home from the lab, only to find my mom in a puddle of blood on the living room floor. My brother was in a similar state in his bedroom. My dad was nowhere to be found but I didn't care. It was his fault," she swallowed the lump in her throat and felt tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

"I just grabbed my documents and a duffle bag with some clothes and ran. Booked the first flight to Romania to come stay at my grandparents'. Oh except they know what my dad is all about! Told me I had an hour to get some rest and be out of their house as they didn't want any trouble with my dad's people."

"I did grab a fuck ton of my dad's cash though so at least hotels weren't an issue," her words were coming out chocked, occasionally interrupted by sniffles. She rapidly whipped a hand across her face. "Have you ever been to Braşov? Old part of the city is quite lovely."

Cassandra grimaced. She didn't want to interrupt, but seeing Nicole in such a state made something in her unbeating heart ache. She gently wiped the trail of tears from her cheeks and placed a kiss on her temple from where she was sitting half behind Nicole. Then, with the softest voice she could muster, "And how did you meet Duke?"

Nicole's eyes widened slightly, apparently having forgotten that detail.

"Oh I stumbled upon his shop one day. I thought he was selling some neat stuff and he was nice so I kept coming back. One thing led to another and when I found out about a place off the map where no one gets in or out without help I thought it would be the perfect place to hide from the people trying to put a bullet through my head." Then she winced slightly. "I was also mildly tipsy when I made that decision."

Cassandra looked a little incredulous. "And he just brought you here?"

"I paid him."

Cassandra's expression turned to what could only be described as disappointed but not surprised. Then her attention went back on the redhead, glossy eyes fixated on the floor. To say she sucked at comforting others was an understatement. Daniela was far more well versed in the art of making others not feel miserable but she was nothing if not stubborn enough to try.

"Listen," she shifted to sit in front of her, hand placed gently on a wet cheek. "If anyone ever dares come near you with the intention of harming you, I'll make them regret every life choice that led them there. You're safe here." She may not be great with her words, but if Cassandra excelled in anything, it was keeping her loved ones safe. Loved one huh.

Nicole leaned into her touch, finally meeting Cassandra's eyes. There was a gentle kind of determination in her golden gaze, accompanied by a fiery rage that, for once in her life, brought comfort as opposed to terror. It came with the knowledge that it wasn't directed at her but at whoever may want to harm her.

She didn't doubt her words. Instead she shifted closer, face nuzzled in the crook of Cassandra's neck and, barely above a whisper, said: "Thank you."

[dioko]

NOT JUST ANYONE.

izuku midoriya x gn! reader

Word Count -> ~ 1810

Genre -> oneshot, fluff 

Content -> mildly suggestive (spice rating is 1.5/5), drunk reader, swearing, college au! characters, older reader and younger deku | please lemme know if i missed anything!

Summary -> You really did believe a certain Izuku Midoriya had his nose buried in his textbooks 24/7. Your first impression of him had led you to pin him as a downright nerd - boring and young and nowhere near your type. 

a/n -> 1. idk about the cover page i jus thought deku looked cool there and the oneshot title is eh 2. this was in my drafts for a long, LONG time and today i finally got it to the point where i didn't hate it. enjoyy <333

Once, you really did believe a certain Izuku Midoriya had his nose buried in his textbooks 24/7. Your first impression of him had led you to pin him down as a nerd - boring, and young and nowhere near your type. 

Boy, were you wrong.

The first time you’d met him, he’d smiled at you with such bright, green eyes, it was almost impossible not to smile back.

“Hello, l/n y/n, s’nice to finally meet you! I’m Midoriya Izuku!” He'd very obviously sunken his voice an octave lower, and whether that was on purpose or not, it was still cute. Still innocent, still pure. 

Not attractive, whatsoever.

“Yeah,” you'd turned your attention back to your work,“it’s nice to meet you too.”

After that, your ever-so-impatient brother had rushed him into his room, and Midoriya had obliged - not before shooting you one last glance. In hindsight, there might’ve been something just a teeny bit darker that had resided in Midoriya's lively eyes. 

Then, weeks passed. 

Was it just you, or did college students grow really, really fast?

As he left your brother's work room for the millionth time that month, you found yourself noticing how different he looked compared to when you’d first met him. Now, when Izuku waved a (large, my god) hand at you, he looked taller, broader… older. 

“See you," he chirped to his friend, bringing you back to the reality where he was most definitely not older than you. 

Wake up, you're practically a senior citizen, you’d chided yourself, there’s no way he’s mature enough for you. Then, another side of you, presumably the devil that sat on your shoulder, tried to argue. You’re not much older, it said, he’s practically the same age as you.

“Oh wait- there was something I had to ask you, l/n-”

“S’fine, you can call me y/n, ‘Zuku.” you didn’t intend to call him something so intimate, the words just.... absent-mindedly slipped out your mouth. 

Oopsies daisies!

“Oh! I - I can? Um… ah,” you watched, mildly entertained by the way he tripped up his words, all from a nickname, “we’re all going out tonight, and I was wondering if you wanted to come-”

“Who’s we?” 

“Er- me, and… and your brother! And a few others!”

“Oh?” You couldn’t let yourself smile, not yet. 

“It’ll be fun!” He sputtered, “a lot of um, a lot of… um, drinking?” It sounded more like a question than a persuasive statement. 

You blinked. “Yeah sure, that sound’s good. I didn’t take you for someone who drank.”

“I don’t?”

“Then why are you going?”

“I thought it would be a good way to spend time with y- my friends.”

“Ah, your friends.”

“Yup,” he squeaked.

“Okay then!” You smacked him playfully on his arm - his large, extremely toned, t-shirt-stretching arm - and jolted him out of his fear, “I’ll see you then, ‘Zuku!”

>>

Izuku Midoriya had a surprising number of friends. 

He had, in a gentlemanly fashion, offered to walk with you to the bar (though your brother was there too) and when you stepped in, you were taken aback by the several people at your table. 

Your guts told you to sit beside the angry one - he looked… fun. 

“Who the fuck is this?” The blond talked like you weren’t there.

“Kacchan,” another blond - with a black streak in his hair - chided, “be nice to the pretty birdie!” Was he drunk already?

“Yeah, Kacchan,” you smirked, “respect your elders.”

The first blond just about exploded on the spot. 

“Watch your mouth,” he seethed at you.

“Hot,” you muttered, unaware of evergreen eyes that couldn’t seem to peel themselves off your lips; your soft, pink, kissable lips. 

“What the fuck?” Kacchan flinched back.

“Sorry,” you grinned, “I meant ‘little snot’.”

“Yeah? I’ll show you little sn-”

>>

Four flirtatious advances from three of Izuku’s friends, two hours and 1 mental breakdown later, you were finally ready to go home - everyone was, really - but where was your brother?”

“Deku,” he’d hissed at the greenette, “I’m not going back to the apartment today, can you take-” he gestured towards you, slumped over a pile of food, “- that thing back to the apartment?”

Izuku opened his mouth, about to ask why he couldn’t but immediately shut up again when he realized it was more time he had to spend with you. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Don’t try anything.”

“Wasn’t gonna!” Awkwardly, Izuku scooched his way past Sero and Uraraka, trying to find a place to put his hands so he could lift you off the table. Luckily, he didn’t have to. 

“Ah, ‘Zuku!” You gave him a cheeky grin, “you’re friends are so…” you watched Bakugou, “... cute. Have a drink!” It was almost laughable how quickly you changed from topic to topic. Almost. The only non-laughable part was that Bakugou seemed to be a recurring theme. 

Izuku pursed his lips, “no, you’re drunk. One of us has to be clear-minded enough to take you home.”

“You’re so smart! Good boy,” you ruffled his hair with a sticky hand, and your rapid strokes fell to a halt when you realized how soft his green hair was. “Wow,” you whispered, “I love your hair. Lemme smell it-”

“NO, no. We’re going home.”

“We?” A smirk played on your lips. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” you frowned when he didn’t stutter - he didn’t even go red. Izuku’s entire demeanor had changed; there was no nervous little college guy right now trying to talk to you, there was a friend (haha) genuinely trying to get you home safely. “Now c’mon, can you walk?”

You stood up and skipped a few steps. “Yup.”

>>

“So, Izuku,” you didn’t bother to hide the fact that you were (very greedily) squeezing his biceps, “gotta girlfriend?”

“N-no.”

“... a boyfriend?”

“Nope,” he popped the ‘p’, and pulled you onto the wall-side of the sidewalk when a car drove by. 

“Any significant other...ss?” You added the plural, just in case. 

“No,” he smiled slyly at you, “why? Are you interested?”

You’d known him for months, but this was the first time he’d said something so forward, enough to make your cheeks flare so hot they felt cold. 

“No way,” you spoke like it was obvious, and then quickly checked to make sure he didn’t look hurt. “Hey! Why do you look so amused?”

“M’not,” he turned his head, so you couldn’t see the smile. 

“You are. Why?”

“Ah, I can’t say. We’re here,” he punched in the apartment code. “You should get ready for bed.”

There was a small, comfortable pause before drunk-you decided to ignore his advice and speak again. “So, do ya like anyone?”

“I like a lot of people,” Izuku smirked. 

Smirked.

“N-no,” you played with the hem of your sweater, “I meant, do you like-like anyone?”

“Hm,” he thought for a second, “that’s a secret.”

“C’mon ‘Zuku! You can trust me!”

“I know that - gimme your coat,” he set it onto a nearby couch and began to flick on random lights, “I still can’t say it, though.”

“Why not?”

“Y/n,” you froze. He’d called you by your first name before, why did it feel so weird now? 

“Yes?”

“I’m taking you to your bedroom.”

“You… you are?”

“You’ve got to sleep.” 

Oh. Boringggg. 

“I don’t wanna,” you hissed, flopping onto your bed anyways. He took a seat at the foot of it. 

“Do you… do you ever remember anything once you're sober again?”

“Nope!” You knew you should’ve lied, but you didn’t, “m’friends say I don’t remember a single thing the next morning.”

He chuckled a little bit, almost in disbelief at you. “That’s not something you can just tell anyone.”

“I know, but you’re not just ‘anyone’.”

“I feel like I’m talking to a child.”

“I’m older than you.”

“Yeah,” he laughed, “it’s kinda hot.”

“What?” Did you mishear? “How do you know what hot means?”

“Y/n! I’m not that young!” He laughed, “sheesh, that hurts.”

“Hurts?”

“Yeah,” he smiled coolly. After all, you weren’t going to remember this conversation. 

“”Why does it hurt?”

“... No reason, don’t worry,” he laughs again, for the third time in a row, but it feels dry to you, and empty, too.

“So who do you like?” You chirped again, completely disregarding his ‘I’m pretty sure I just got brother-zoned’ ideology. 

“I told you, that’s a secret…” then, he bit his lip, “... but you won’t remember anyways, right?”

“Yep!”

“Then... I like you.”

“Who?” You smiled. 

“You.”

“Oh, I like you, too.”

“I like-like you.”

“I like-like you, too.”

“You’re drunk,” he smiled sadly, “sleep.”

“I want fruit.”

“Now? You want me to go get you fruit?”

“Please?”

You inhaled the bucket of raspberries, “anyways, I really do like you. You’re so small and cute.”

“I’m small?”

“No, you’re built like a tank,” you giggled. Sober-you would have called drunk-you an airhead, “I think you’re sexy as hell.”

“Yeah?” 

You leaned closer to him. You were sure he could smell alcohol and sugar on your breath, but you didn’t care. “Yeah.”

“Then can I tell you something else?”

“Sure!”

“Kacchan annoys me so much,” he wiped off the juice that dribbled down your chin with his thumb, and you made the mistake of leaning into his touch, “especially when he flirts with you.”

“When’s he ever flirted with me?”

“Tonight,” Izuku pulled back, and you (embarrassingly) fell forward. “I didn’t like it.”

“Were you jealous?”

“Yes,” he admitted, and quite shamelessly - but only because you weren’t sober. 

“Aw, don’t be jealous,” you cooed at him, and then randomly, “you remind me of bunnies!” 

“That’s cute,” his voice was hoarse, “then, can you promise me something, bunny?”

You flushed hot. “That - that’s not what I meant, I meant you’re my bunny.”

“Sure,” he nodded along.

You shuffled yourself a little closer to him. This wasn’t the Midoriya Izuku you’d come to know, who was he? Why was he so different from the twitchy student who cared so much about his grades?

“What did you want me to promise?” It was a good idea to change the topic, you thought, for his sake, not your own. Definitely. 

“Promise me you won’t let Kacchan get so close to you anymore,” he played with your fingers, “you can do that, right? You... can be a good bunny for me?”

“Mhm,” you couldn't refuse when he put it like that.

“Go to bed now, it’s late.”

“On one condition.”

“And what’s that?”

“Kiss me.”

Izuku paused. His eyes were on your lips, that was for sure, but he showed no sign of moving closer. “M’not gonna do that when you're drunk.”

You frowned. 

“I’ll sit with you ‘till you're asleep. I’m not… touching you, though.”

“Manly,” you murmured.

“Human decency,” he corrected. 

The greenette pulled your covers above your waist and moved to the desk chair in your room, “good night, y/n.”

It was a shame this would all be forgotten, and the two of you would be back to square one by morning.

a/n -> yes the nickname has everything to do with my URL and so what 

[bookishofalder]

The Bet

Hotch x Fem!Reader

Request: @honeyshelley - ‘Hiii, I just discovered you and I hope to read soon your work ! And i hope you are safe and healthly ❤ i wondered if you could write something for Hotchner, the reader can be a police officer who call the bau for help to catch a serial killer or something, a bit of angst maybe and write only of you are inspired ! Don't force yourself, 🤗’

Warnings: Panic attack description, mild CM content. 

A/N: Man, I love Hotch. They did him DIRTY on CM because he stood up for his cast mates and I’ll never forgive CBS for it. 

Hotch was annoyed.

Though a regularly occurring emotion for him, it was rarely so focused upon himself. Today he stood in the conference room of the D.C. FBI Field Office, where they were assisting on a local case. And he was irritated with only himself.

Because of you.

He didn’t blame you in the least, of course. He wasn’t irrational, wasn’t one to deflect or project his emotions onto others-least of all someone entirely innocent and unaware. It was just exhausting, though, working this case. You were a new addition to the field office, having just transferred from Seattle in hopes of further advancing your already impressive career within the FBI. Hotch had heard of you before, details of your more prolific cases and intense work ethic were often relayed by Spencer Reid, who was one to stay up on fellow agents that might one day suit the BAU team.

And while Hotch had been impressed, mildly interested, happy to get a chance to work with you, he had not expected the woman who walked through the front lobby and extended her hand to him three days prior. No, you had caught him entirely off guard, and he was still reeling. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman in...probably ever if he was honest with himself. Hailey and he were high school sweethearts-that kind of love was different, steady and safe and expected. Beth had caught his attention, her kindness and overall different lifestyle an alluring escape from the realities of his day to day. But things never really took off with her, despite their mutual respect.

But you, well you had him captivated the moment he met your friendly gaze, your eyes wide in clear excitement for getting a chance to work with the BAU. Your hand grasped his and he’d felt like time had slowed, just enough that he could take in every single detail as he introduced himself. The way your hair fell, the curve of your hips, the small pout of your lips. Your posture, head held high to convey the message that you were a leader, not one to be overlooked. It all struck him at the moment, and when you repeated his name in your breathy voice, he knew he was done for.

Three days later the case was going well, though there was an uphill battle, progress was progress. Hotch was happy with how his team was performing. They’d worked plenty of cases with the staff of the D.C. field office. With different sections, and even interacted with many of the agents in social settings and workplace functions, given the proximity to Quantico. But Hotch felt he wasn’t working at his best, behaving entirely unlike himself as he was completely distracted by you every time you stepped into the room.

It had been three days of variable torture, his mind continually informing him of the why not’s-the age gap, that you probably already had a partner, that Hotch was damaged and cursed and certainly didn’t deserve a woman like you. And then you’d bring him a coffee, or stand closely next to him as you both surveyed a map provided by Reid, or tuck your hair behind your ear with a little smile when the conversation turned away from work, and Hotch would feel hot and bothered and not at all like himself.

“Agent Hotchner?” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, his gaze lifting from the tablet he’d been pretending to read, and meeting yours. You smiled down at Hotch, leaning against the table where he sat. The scent of fresh linens and honeysuckle wafted toward him, delighting his senses further.

Hotch returned your smile automatically, something he was aware was rare for him. He hadn’t needed Derek mentioning it last night as they made their way out the doors, calling attention to his sudden eagerness to smile around the beautiful, strong new agent. But Derek had always enjoyed teasing him when he could get away with it.

“I’m sorry, Agent (Y/L/N), did you say something?” Could you hear his heart right now, as it beat against his chest? The thrum, thrum, thrum signalling just how you affected every cell within his body-could you sense it?

You smirked, extending a coffee you’d been clutching toward him with a small shrug, “I think you need this more than I do, sir.” You giggled, and Hotch’s cheeks flushed in response. His fingers brushed yours when he gratefully took the proffered beverage and he felt a shiver of electricity across his skin.

Hotch nodded in thanks, “Cases like this always seem to require extra coffee.” He admitted, taking a sip and noting how you enjoyed your coffee much sweeter than he did, but at that moment he didn’t mind. It was quality coffee, hot and given by you.

Sighing, you crossed your arms and Hotch kept his gaze level with yours despite the captivating way your breasts pushed out. Inwardly, he chastised himself for his train of thought. You were his colleague. His colleague. His very beautiful, disarmingly charming colleague.

“I agree, though they come along often enough that it’s starting to become a poor excuse for overindulging.”

Hotch glanced down at his mug as he laughed, then back up. When he met your eyes, he noticed they widened slightly, a faint flush dusting your cheeks. This captured his attention fully, but before he could begin to consider how to move forward, how to find out what your blushing meant, Derek and Emily walked into the conference room, heads low.

Another victim had been found.

+

“I really hate alleyways. I think society needs to eliminate them entirely,” You said, your hand clapped over your nose and mouth to ease the intensity of the scent of rotting flesh from the victim that you, Hotch and Reid were staring down upon. “After this case, I’m petitioning for it here-at least within my jurisdiction.”

Hotch laughed aloud. Reid glanced up from the victim, brows furrowed and opened his mouth to no doubt educate you on everything and anything he knew about alleyways. Which you assumed was a lot, because you’d known the genius a few days now and already understood there was little he didn’t know. But you shook your head, resting a hand on his arm as you laughed.

“She’s joking,” Hotch supplied, giving you a warm smile as Reid nodded in understanding. Your knees trembled every time this man looked at you, and you were surprised you didn’t just collapse the moment he flashed you that gorgeous grin. Fuck, you had it bad.

You’d always had a thing for older men, though you hadn’t dated any. You had had a few previous relationships with men your age, either fellow students in college or agents at the academy, but they were all short-lived. You counted some of those men amongst your closest friends. But you focused instead on your career and hoped one day a suitable partner would appear.

You hadn’t expected Agent Aaron Hotchner to tick every single box on your list the moment he introduced himself and those dark, warm eyes searched your face, as though he was seeing something unexpected. You’d spent the last few days finding any excuse to work with or near him, even going so far as to join him and Reid at this most recent crime scene despite how much you really, truly hated alleys.

Nothing good ever happened in an alley, as far as you were concerned, and though you tried to hide your discomfort behind humour, you were eager to assess the scene and get the hell out of the narrow, stifling gap carved between two old buildings.

It was a short while later, when the crime scene photographer was following your instructions, you and the two men on either side of you discussing the case from the vantage of the latest victim, that the discomfort began to fester. It evolved, so slowly you hadn’t realized until suddenly your spine felt tight and your level-headedness seemed to disintegrate. You swallowed, setting your jaw and working to disassociate yourself from your surroundings, hopeful the renowned BAU agents were too focused on their work to recognize your sudden internal struggle for composure.

Though, it seemed that Agent Hotchner had been paying attention, and you couldn’t fathom why. At first, you saw his eyes sweep over you from the corner of his own, taking in your stiff posture, the way your hands clenched at your sides. You thought he would leave it alone, be embarrassed for you when suddenly his large hand was slowly pressing into your lower back. Your shirt pressed to your skin and it was then that you realized the layer of sweat that had broken out over your body as your panic attack raged within.

You closed your eyes briefly, focusing on that hand, but it wasn’t enough. The alley was too narrow, too damp and hot, the odour in the air foul and suffocating. “Come with me.” He suddenly murmured in your ear, and you didn’t hesitate to comply, moving with Hotch as his hand remained on your back, guiding you to the mouth of the alley. Once you were on the street, he moved toward the SUV that you’d all driven over in.

Using the keys, he opened the trunk and gestured for you to take a seat. Again, you followed his instructions, lifting yourself, legs dangling slightly. You still couldn’t breathe, even though the air out here in the open was moving, fresh, a soft breeze dancing across your skin.

You felt like the air wasn’t meant for you anymore, your lungs incapable of pulling it in.

Hotch leaned in front of you, his warm eyes full of concern, “Can I touch you?” He asked you, voice low. You nodded, and his hands found your shoulders, grasping gently. After a moment, during which he gauged your reaction to his touch, his grip tightened and his hands slide up and down your upper arms, grounding you somewhat. “Close your eyes, breath with me, sweet girl.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you followed his suggestion and began to take deep breaths as your eyes closed. Your hands lay flat on your thighs, applying your own slight pressure. He took exaggerated breaths to ensure you could hear him and match your own.

You weren’t sure how long you and Hotch stayed like this, but his movements never ceased, and you could feel his eyes watching you. When your breathing evened out, you focused instead on the cool air, the strength behind his hands on you. Slowly, you opened your eyes and met his. “I’m sorry, I-“

Hotch shook his head, “You have nothing to apologize for. We’ve all been there.”

You smiled shyly at his words, nodding. “Well, thank you. This...it really helped.” You watched as he returned your smile, his right hand releasing your arm to brush falling strands of your hair over your shoulder. The gesture alone was enough to make you shiver again, your mind and body reconnecting as your panic attack diminished.

He seemed to notice your reaction this time, and pulled his hands back, appearing surprised. He didn’t move away, though, for which you were grateful. You weren’t ready for the moment to end.

“I hope I didn’t overstep, Agent.” He muttered, his serious frown returning. You shook your head quickly, eager for him to understand just how much you appreciated what he’d just done for you.

“You can call me (Y/N),” You replied quietly, considering your next words carefully. “Although...I didn’t mind sweet girl if I’m being honest.”

You had held his gaze as you spoke, which allowed you to bear witness to the emotions that played across the usually stoic man's face. Shock morphed into a small smile that met his butterscotch eyes, a blush creeping across his skin and his right hand moved to rub the back of his neck nervously. After a few moments, which you could see he was using to come up with a reply, he sat down next to you, your sides touching. He sighed with a smile.

“Could I take you to dinner once this case wraps up, (Y/N)?”

A grin spread across your face at his words, and, feeling bold, you took his hand into yours as you looked up at the handsome man. “I’d love that, Aaron.” You squeezed.

His eyes lit up at your reply and he returned your pressure as he smiled down at you. You stayed like that for a long while, grinning at one another like lovesick kids, so enamoured that you both missed Reid pulling out his phone to snap a picture.

He sent the photo to the team, conceding defeat to Derek and Emily, who had both bet it would take only three days for Hotch to ask you out. Spencer had bet on four days, JJ on a week, and Garcia on a week after the case would wrap up.

Now he was out forty bucks, but it was worth it to see the smiles lighting you both up as you gazed at one another. The rest of the world was background noise.  

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

[redgillan]

Under Pastel Skies - 9

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,257

Warnings: mention of accident, mention of blood

A/N: I’m sorry this took longer than usual but it’s pretty long so yay! I hope you’ll like this chapter. We’re slowly getting there :’) Thank you for the feedback, I truly appreciate all of you! Also 1 marvel quote and several Bob Ross quotes that I obv don’t own.

Wannabe sugar daddies don’t interact, idc if you have money, eat it and leave me be.

Good luck on your interview xx

Bucky had just hit ‘send’ when Sam cleared his throat noisily, drawing Bucky’s attention away from his phone. His friends were frowning crossly at him, their glasses raised in a silent toast. He set his phone face-down on the table and picked up his glass.

“Sorry, you were saying?”

Sam shot Steve a ‘see?’ look and Steve replied with a shrug and a little smile. They looked like two sassy grandmothers judging their only grandson. Bucky checked his phone again, and out of his peripheral vision, he could see his grandmothers share another look.

“What?” he barked, annoyed.

“Nothin,” they both answered at the same time before they took a synchronized sip of orange juice.

Smacking his lips together, Sam opened the menu and began to skim through the choices. A waiter suddenly came out of nowhere to take their order. Bucky ordered a cranberry rosemary scone, smoked bacon, an eggplant sandwich, and a plate of lemon-ricotta pancakes.

“Excuse-me,” Sam called out to the waiter. “Could you make his pancakes in the shape of an angel?” he asked, ignoring Bucky who was openly glaring at him.

The waiter, albeit a little surprised, kept a smile on his face. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Bucky told him, handing him the menu. “Thank you.”

Without another look to his friends, he grabbed his phone and checked his messages for the third time in less than two minutes. Steve snatched his phone up and sat back in his seat, waving the phone at Bucky.

“Enough! Live in the moment.” He pocketed the phone and gave Bucky a pointed stare. “You’ll get it back later.”

“What the hell? You’re not my father, give it back!” Bucky snapped, extending his hand, the palm facing up. Steve shook his head. “Give it back, you fucking meatball.”

He got up and tried to reach inside Steve’s pocket for his phone but Steve kept shifting in his seat. They wrestled like that for a minute while Sam watched them, eating a breadstick and looking mildly entertained.

“Okay, fine,” Bucky panted, pushing himself away from Steve. “You leave me no choice, Rogers.” He cleared his throat like an actor about to jump on stage. “Give me back my phone, Steve!” he said, raising his voice. “Do you enjoy stealing from disabled people?”

He nearly shouted the last two words, and to Steve’s horror, the buzz of conversation around them had died. He could feel people staring at him. Cursing softly under his breath, he reached into his pocket and dropped the phone into Bucky’s awaiting hand.

“It’s okay, we’re friends,” Steve said to the people sitting behind him. They looked at him with a disapproving glare. “Jesus, Bucky, you’re making me look like an asshole.”

An amused expression crossed Bucky’s face as he sat back in his seat. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

It was quiet while he checked his messages. Slowly, those around them returned to their own conversations. Sam pointed his half-eaten breadstick at Steve.

“Do you think the waiter will spit in your omelette?” he said the last word with an exaggerated French accent. Steve glared at him.

Their waiter arrived a moment later carrying a large tray with their brunch. Steve poked at his omelet with a suspicious frown, then looked over at Bucky who was still on his phone. Sam stole a slice of bacon from Bucky’s plate and gave it to Steve.

“I hear you’ve got a date tonight,” Sam said, making conversation.

“Yeah,” Steve chuckled, embarrassed. “It’s not a big deal. I’m just looking for something casual. I’m leaving in two days.”

“Where’re you going this time?”

“South Africa,” Steve replied, stealing another slice of bacon. “What about you? What’s that big emergency?”

Sam glanced at Bucky who was grinning like an idiot at his phone. “Not now. Let’s eat first.” He took the plate of bacon, took what he wanted then handed it to Steve. “Want another?”

Steve kept looking over at Bucky while they finished his bacon but Bucky didn’t seem to acknowledge their presence. He was in his own little bubble.

“It’s like we don’t even exist,” Steve remarked out loud.

“I know, it’s amazing. Look!” Sam straightened up in his seat and cleared his throat. “Bucky Barnes is the biggest idiot on the planet, and he can eat my farts.” Bucky was hunched over his phone, his thumb typing away. “See?”

“Impressive.”

“That’s the angel effect,” Sam said.

With a happy little sigh, Bucky pocketed his phone and turned his attention to his friends. He frowned at the amused look they shared.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Steve’s first date in two years.” Sam turned to Steve. “You must be nervous.”

“Strangely, no.” Steve broke off a small piece of omelet with his fork. “I actually know him. He’s an old friend from college.”

“Nice,” Sam said.

“He’s a fashion photographer now.”

“Wait, what?” Bucky’s brows pinched in confusion as he stared at Steve.

Undeterred, Steve continued. “We’ve been facetiming a lot lately.” He shot Bucky a glance. “Why do you think I go to bed at 8?”

“But I thought-”

“You thought I had a date with your girl,” Steve said with a warm smile. “Listen, man, I like her. She’s cute, funny, talented. She’s a real sweetheart. But I like her because she brought back that light in your eyes. You look happy. That’s all I ever wanted for you. You had to go through so much crap, Buck. You deserve this.”

Bucky looked down at his pancakes, feeling tears pool in his eyes. He blinked them back and sniffed quietly. “So you were never going to ask her out.”

“I was until you called her ‘angel’,” Steve replied with a shrug. “You kept saying you were okay with this but, I mean, I’m not that dense.”

“Why do you keep going out with her then?” Bucky grumbled.

“Jeez, Mother Gothel, I didn’t know Rapunzel wasn’t allowed to leave the tower,” Steve exclaimed. “We were bored. You’re in your office all day. It was fun to mess with you though. You’re a grumpy Gus when you’re jealous.”

“I wasn’t jealous, okay. I was annoyed. There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh.”

Bucky looked over at Sam who had been strangely quiet throughout this whole exchange. He loved teasing Bucky, and he always had something to say about Bucky’s love life. Sam wasn’t looking at Bucky, he just pushed his food around with his fork, his lips pinched shut. He met Bucky’s eyes, then lowered his head again.

Bucky had a feeling something bad was about to happen.

“What’s the big emergency?” he asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Sam set his fork down beside his plate and leaned back against his chair with a sigh. He trained his gaze on the front door, seemingly deep in thought.

“I’m moving to D.C.” He paused to let the information sink in. “They’re transferring me to the D.C. office. I’m their new chief financial officer.”

“Congrats, man!” Steve exclaimed. “You deserve it.”

“Yeah,” Sam replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That’s what I’ve always wanted.”

“So why the long face?”

“I’m a little anxious to leave New York. What will Barnes do without me? Without his mentor? Without someone to look up to?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “I think I’ll be all right.” He hesitated before he asked, “Did you tell her?”

“Tell who?” Steve inquired, polishing off the last of his omelet.

Bucky felt the wave of long-held sadness his Sam’s eyes. “I’ll tell her tonight.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?”

Sam and Bucky shared a look. They weren’t sure how Steve would react.

The word sugar daddy held a pejorative connotation. Every single one of those relationships featured a powerful, rich man and a poor, vulnerable man or woman. There was a clear power imbalance here that never appealed to Bucky, and he was pretty sure it never appealed to Sam either.

Whether it was a no-strings-attached service or an emotional service, it was still a hole in your resume. One that would be hard to explain to your future employers. He was afraid people would call you names, treat you differently or harass you if they knew.

He often wondered if he had unintentionally ruined your life.

Deep down he knew Steve would never call you a whore or treat you differently but he was still trying to protect your reputation. He believed that Sam had Natasha’s best interest at heart too.

Sam told Steve everything. He remembered the day he had met Natasha, their instant chemistry, the subtle flirting, the arrangement, their first night out, their first kiss, their first time together, their new arrangement. Steve listened attentively. When Sam told him that you were Natasha’s best friend, Bucky interrupted him and told his own story.

“Wow,” Steve deadpanned, leaning forward to take one of Sam’s poached egg and avocado toast. Sam slapped his hand away. “Is that a thing now? Sugar daddies, I mean?”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“Yeah.” Steve sipped his mimosa with a bored look on his face. “You’re both not ready for the real conversation, so I’m just making small talk.”

Sam and Bucky exchanged confused looks. “What real conversation?”

“Sam, you just got an amazing promotion, you’re going to be the Prince of D.C. and you’re sitting here like someone kicked your puppy,” Steve replied, then turned to Bucky. “And you, well... I’ve been living with you for the past two weeks and you’ve gone all Alpha male on me, Buck. Cut the shit. You’re both in love with your sugar babies. Companions, or whatever the fuck you want to call them.”

Sam and Bucky sat in silence with their heads hung low. Steve opened his arms wide like a lawyer in a bad TV show saying ‘I rest my case’.  When he spoke again, his voice was soft.

“Look, as maybe the world's leading authority on waiting too long, don't,” he said. “What’s the worst that could happen, um?”

It made Bucky think. Best-case scenario, you loved him too and life was a breeze for the next fifty years. Bad-case scenario, you didn’t share his feelings. Worst-case scenario, you shared his feelings but couldn’t make the transition from sugar baby to girlfriend.

Yeah, worst-case scenario sucked...

He came home around three in the afternoon, and smiled when he saw your shoes and coat. Knowing you were home always put him in a good mood, but his heart was heavy. He felt conflicted. He didn’t know if it was better to tell you how he felt now or to just keep living in this little bubble with you until it’d inevitably burst.

And to make things worse, Sam was going to end his contract with Natasha tonight. He made Bucky promise not to tell you about it. Bucky felt sorry for Natasha, he wondered if she had feelings for Sam. He wondered if she had a backup plan.

He found you in your studio, sitting on the floor, huddled against the wall, with one knee drawn up to your chest and your arms loosely wrapped around your leg. You were staring at the painting you’d just made, the still wet paint glistened under the artificial lights.

This painting was different from your usual landscapes and occasional portraits. There were various shades of blue and grey intertwined, and five big splotches of dark red paint layered on top of the canvas.

Bucky knew just by looking at you that something was wrong. You looked defeated, sad, upset. He reasoned that your interview didn’t go as planned. Quietly, he stepped into the room and sat down on the floor next to you, his left shoulder brushing your own.

“I just got home,” he said.

“Where’s Steve?”

“He said he had some errands to run. He’ll be back later.”

You nodded, still staring straight ahead. “Okay. I bet you can’t wait to have some time to yourself. I asked Natasha if I could stay with her, but she’s going out with Sam tonight. I’ll stay in my room, I won’t bother you.”

Bucky felt his heart drop, his breath caught in his throat. He had made the woman he loved feel unwelcome. God, he wanted to kick his own ass.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, tilting his head to look at you but you were stubborn and refused to meet his eye. “I thought you were going out with Steve and I- I didn’t want you to feel like you had to stay with me.”

“I’m not interested in Steve. I told you that.”

“I know.” He moved so that he could see your face. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you, and for the way I treated Steve. It won’t happen again. I promise. Can you forgive me?”

“Of course, Bucky,” you huffed.

He saw your chin quiver slightly and your eyes glaze over with unshed tears. You looked utterly broken. He reached up and wiped a stray tear from your cheek.

“Sorry, I had a difficult day,” you said.

His palm cupped the side of your face, his thumb stroking a caress across your cheek. You met his eyes for the first time and he smiled softly at you.

“My angel.”

His words made you cry even harder, silent tears streaming down your cheeks. With his hand still cupping the side of your face, he leaned closer and pressed his lips against your other cheek. You closed your eyes and basked in his affection.

He could feel the warmth of your tears, could taste the salt on his lips as they streamed down your cheek to his mouth. Slowly, he pulled back and looked at you, a smile forming on his lips when he saw a fleck of dried blue paint above your eyebrows.

“Painter Smurf,” he teased, wiping it off. You let out a huff of air that sounded like a laugh. “I’m here for you, angel, whatever you need.” He pulled you against his side and you rested your head on his chest.

“My interview didn’t go very well,” you said after a long moment of silence. “She said that I’m really talented, that my technique is perfect. But my work is too figurative. It’s not what she’s looking for.” You paused to wipe your nose on your sleeve. “It’s just- It wasn’t my first meeting. They all tell me the same thing: I’m not good enough.”

“That’s not true,” Bucky said, kissing your hair. “Your work is unique. It’s raw and beautiful. If they can’t see that then they’re morons.”

“She told me that if I had been a white man in the nineteenth century, people would still talk about me today.” You sighed. “I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe I should work on something more abstract.”

Bucky tilted his head to one side as he looked at your painting. “Is that why you painted this?”

“Mhhh,” you hummed. “She told me to play with the textures, the forms, the lines, the colours. Suggest rather than show. Let the painting tell its own story.”

“Yeah, I think you did it.”

“You think it’s good?”

“I don’t think those adjectives apply here. Not with modern art. It’s in the eye of the beholder,” he said, running his fingers along your shoulder. “Abstract art isn’t supposed to be beautiful, it’s supposed to make you feel something, right?”

“How does it make you feel?”

“Unsettled, sad.”

You straightened up and sat shoulder to shoulder. “My brother died in a hit-and-run.” You let the information sink in for a minute. “I was with Okoye, we got a call from our mom but by the time we got to the hospital, he was already dead.”

Your voice was surprisingly calm and controlled. Bucky wanted to reach out to you but he was unable to move. He listened attentively, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest.

“He was wearing some kind of compression shirt, grey-blue with two white stripes, and it was covered in blood. When I close my eyes and think of that day, all I remember is that shirt and the blood.” You tilted your head and gave him a little smile. “That’s what I painted.”

Bucky didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. He couldn’t think of anything to say.

“Sorry,” you let out a small laugh. “I had a shitty meeting and then I came home and basically relived one of the worst days of my life to put it on a canvas. Now it’s staring at me and all I want is to shred it to pieces.”

Bucky noticed that your hand was close to one of your palette knives. Your fingers brushed against the handle, debating whether you should pick it up and slash the canvas. He laid his hand on top of yours.

“It won’t help,” he said. “Trust me. I can put the painting somewhere else if you want. You won’t have to look at it again. I promise.”

“Yes, please.”

“C’mon, beautiful, let’s go downstairs. I know someone who can help you.” He got to his feet and extended his hand to you. You frowned up at him, a silent question in your eyes. “His name is Bob and he paints happy little trees.”

A bright, wide smile spread until it lit up your whole face, and Bucky’s heart melted at the sight. He grinned at you and pulled you to your feet.

“I love Bob Ross,” you said, and Bucky gave your hand a little squeeze.

In the living room, you sat down on the sofa, crossing your legs under you and grabbed a blanket while Bucky connected his YouTube account to the TV. He sat down beside you, propping his feet up on the coffee table and adjusting the blanket in his lap.

“Hi, welcome back. Certainly glad you could join me today.” The show started and you melted against Bucky’s chest, pulling the blanket up to your neck. “Thought today we could do a fantastic little painting-”

You were pressed against his bad side, but Bucky didn’t mind. As the show progressed, you slid further into his lap until your head rested on the armrest of the sofa, close to Bucky’s right hand.

“People know when you’re happy. They can look at your paintings and tell how you were happy. They reflect your moods. Paintings are a reflection of your innermost feelings.”

He gave your head a little massage while you both watched Bob Ross create a stunning lake view painting.

“Cuz in your world, you can create any kind of illusion that you want. I spent half my life in the military, and I had to live in somebody else’s world all the time. Painting offered me freedom, I’d come home after all day of playing soldier and I could paint the kind of world that I wanted. It was clean, it was sparkling, shiny, beautiful-”

You shifted a little, and Bucky wondered if those words resonated with what you had been through. Being adopted, losing a brother, taking care of your sick mother when your siblings left, graduating, making ends meet... Those experiences had shaped you into the woman you would be for the rest of your life. A kind and strong woman who never really got to live or enjoy life.

He understood how important painting was to you. He was an artist too. He wasn’t a painter, but writing offered him a kind of freedom he had lost a long time ago.

“We should paint along,” you said, tilting your head up to look at him. “Then I’ll sell yours. I bet people would pay a lot of money to own an original Grant Thomas painting.”

Bucky chuckled. He knew you were teasing him, the slight curl of your lips said as much. “I’ll sign it James Barnes. It’ll be worthless.”

“It’s not worthless to me,” you said.

“Would you hang it in your room?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then, okay, I’ll paint along with you.”

When the episode ended, you decided to eat dinner first and paint later. You were sitting at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of leftover pasta from the night before, when Steve came home.

“Hey guys,” he greeted, throwing a plastic bag on the kitchen island before he made his way to his bedroom.

“I’m so fucking late. I still need to take a shower and get dressed.” Steve came out of his room, shirtless, and working his belt buckle open. “Hey, Buck, can I borrow some clothes?”

“I swear to fuckin’ God, Rogers, if you undress in the middle of the kitchen I’ll make you eat your jeans.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

He rushed to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. A minute later, Bucky heard the shower running.

Later, you went upstairs to gather canvases, paint brushes and paint while Bucky helped Steve pick out an outfit.

Steve was too excited about his date to remind Bucky that he was an idiot, and Bucky was happy that for once they didn’t talk about his feelings for you. He teased Steve and watched as Steve squirmed, the tip of his ears bright red. Just like old times.

Then they met you downstairs where you had two easels set up in front of the television. Steve stood in front of you, visibly nervous and agitated, while you looked at him from head to toe.

“How do I look?”

“Like you’re wearing clothes two sizes too small for you, which makes you look even bigger than you normally are so... pretty good.”

“Yeah?”

You chuckled. “You look great, Steve.”

Steve responded with a relieved sigh and a little bashful smile. Bucky liked that look on Steve, it reminded him of their childhood when Steve awkwardly flirted his way through Brooklyn.

Bucky jerked back to the present when Steve turned to him for confirmation. He gave him a firm nod and a thumbs-up, then walked him to the kitchen. They talked about Steve’s plans for the night while Steve gathered up his things.

Bucky was walking back to the living room when Steve called out his name and threw something to him. Bucky caught it in mid-air, then looked down at his hand. A shiny looking condom wrapper was nestled in the palm of his hand. He scowled at Steve.

“Just in case,” Steve said with a shit-eating grin.

“You’re a dead man.”

Steve’s laughter echoed down the corridor as he left the apartment.

Blowing out a breath, Bucky pocketed the foil packet and joined you in the living room. You were sitting at your easel, blobs of paint arranged in a semicircle on a palette. There was another easel next to yours, with a palette resting on a stool to make things easier for him.

You selected the lake view episode you had watched earlier, thinking that it would make things easier. Bucky was in awe of you, you made painting look so effortless and beautiful. You added your own trees and clouds, shifting things around to create your own world.

Bucky followed Bob Ross’ instructions closely but, in his opinion, it looked like someone had made it with their feet. You laughed at his comment and told him that you would still hang it in your room. It boosted his ego a bit.

When you both finished your painting, Bucky looked up at the clock. It was close to midnight which made him do a double take.

“Time for me to hit the hay,” he said, yawning. “This is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Mhh,” you mused, turning the TV off.

“You okay?”

You shrugged. “Yeah, I- uh, I was kind of hoping we’d do this all night,” you said, playing with a mostly dried paintbrush. You looked at him from under your lashes. “But it’s fine. I understand, you’re tired. I think I’ll wait for Steve.”

Bucky looked at you with a pained expression. He could tell something was bothering you. He placed his index finger under your chin and tilted your head up. “Angel, I don’t think Steve is coming home tonight.” You pinched your lips together and nodded. “Talk to me. I want to help.”

“I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Your words hit him like a punch in the chest, leaving him momentarily breathless. He pulled you close and pressed a long kiss to your forehead. You clung to him for dear life, your warmth and familiar scent made his heart ache.

“It’s okay,” he mumbled against your skin, then pulled back a little so he could look you in the eye. “Let’s change into something more comfortable, um? Then we’ll catch some shut-eye. I have an idea, the first person to fall asleep has to make breakfast tomorrow.”

“You sure?”

“You’re right. I’m exhausted, I’ll fall asleep first,” he said, shaking his head. “New rule, last person to fall asleep has to make breakfast.”

You snorted. “No, I meant... are we going to sleep in the same bed?”

“I promise I’ll stay on my side. But if it makes you uncomfortable, there’s a bunk bed in Steve’s room.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to wash my face first. I’ll see you in a minute.”

Bucky tried to play it cool but his heart was pounding. He kept seeing flashes of his dreams in his mind: skin against skin, steady puffs of air brushing against his skin, the smell of sweat and something uniquely you surrounding him.

He was absolutely terrified.

He went upstairs, took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and changed into his pyjamas. His night-time regimen took longer than he had anticipated so he wasn’t surprised when he found you sitting cross-legged on his bed, scrolling through your phone, looking so calm and peaceful.

You were wearing your pyjama bottoms and a fluffy sweatshirt stained with blue paint and tomato soup. He felt his stomach flip when you raised your head and smiled at him. A chill ran through his spine, and made the hairs on his arm stand on end. He’d never seen you look more beautiful.

“Hey,” you said, placing your phone on the nightstand. “Which side of the bed do you sleep on?”

“The side you’re sitting on.” You rolled to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers making him laugh. “You didn’t have to move.”

“It’s fine. I prefer this side.” You looked around the room. “I like your room. It’s very you.”

“Ah?”

“Yeah, neat, organized, lots of books, a cosy armchair, stormy blue comforter. It looks intimidating but it’s actually really soft. Like you.”

He suppressed a laugh. “Thanks.”

Bucky climbed into bed beside you, turned off the light and drew the blanket over him trying to get warm. He lay on his back looking up at the ceiling. He was so stiff and nervous, he forced himself to breathe normally. You turned onto your side and slid one of your hands under your pillow.

“Do you usually read before you go to sleep?” you whispered, afraid to disturb the silence.

“Yes,” he whispered back. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” There was a moment’s silence before you spoke again. “I’ve started reading your book.”

“Oh, Christ,” he let out a small laugh and turned his head to look at you, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. “I hope I didn’t traumatize you.”

“You have a very dark sense of humour,” you said. “But I already knew that.”

“I’ve always had a dark sense of humor, but trust me, when I lost my arm I wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Therapy helped a lot. Besides, laughing is good for your health, right? My books are very personal, I don’t censor myself.”

“I know. I wasn’t expecting it to be so honest.” You shifted a little and looked away from him. “I don’t know if I’ll finish it, I feel like I’m intruding.”

“I understand.” He shifted slightly so he was lying on his left side, facing you. “I wrote it like a diary. Talking isn’t my strong suit. I don’t know, I think I’m trying too hard and I just end up being rude or not making sense. When I write, I take my time, I find the right words. It’s easier when I don’t have to look anyone in the eye.”

He knew his book was a little rough. He focused on his depression, his rehabilitation, relearning basically everything. He talked about rediscovering his body, intimately. He talked about his friends, his family, strangers, therapy, dating.

“Can I ask you a very personal question?”

“Of course.”

“Have you ever been in love?”

He swallowed hard, his throat raw and tight. “Yes.” In fact, he was in love right now. “Once. I don’t trust easily.”

“I know I read what happened between you and your girlfriend.”

She had been his first girlfriend since the accident. She was kind, patient, a little over excited but he found it cute. In a way, she reminded him of himself before the accident. She wasn’t afraid to touch him, and God, he needed to be touched.

Sam had witnessed little things that irked him but Bucky had ignored him, refusing to see the warning signs. He wanted to be happy again. But then he couldn’t bury his head in the sand anymore.

She treated him like a child in front of their friends, and her friends praised her for taking such good care of a man like him. A man who, in their mind, was high maintenance. She cut his meat for him even though he was perfectly capable of doing it himself. She helped him dress, tied his shoes, zipped up his coat, etc... He felt infantilized, humiliated.

He didn’t think she was a bad person though. It was just her personality.

“How’s Natasha?” he asked suddenly.

A puff of air caressed his face as you snorted out a laugh. “Why do you ask? You don’t like her.”

“I like her a lot,” he argued. “She seems wary of me, which I understand, but she’s great.”

“Yeah, she is.” You considered his words. “She’s doing well. She went on work date with Sam.”

Despite his promise to Sam, he couldn’t bear the thought of keeping things from you. “I have to tell you something about Sam and Nat.” You waited for him to continue. “Sam got promoted, he’s moving to D.C. He broke things off with Natasha tonight. I mean, their arrangement.”

“I know,” you said. “She texted me while you were in the bathroom. I’m going to spend the night at her place tomorrow. It’s been a while since we had a girls’ night, and we both really need it.”

“Good.” He cupped the side of your face, let his thumb brush your jaw. “I’m going out with the boys tomorrow. Steve’s leaving soon.” He pulled his hand back. “We should try to get some sleep.”

“No, please,” you said, shifting closer to him. “Not yet.”

“Angel, we can’t stay awake all night.”

“I don’t want to be alone in the dark.”

“I’m right here with you,” he spoke gently.

“But once you fall asleep I’ll be alone.”

Bucky raised his head and kissed your forehead, his lips lingering on your skin. When he pulled back, he rested his hand on your forearm and let his warmth seep into your skin. His thumb caressed the inside of your wrist, stroked over your racing pulse point.

“I’ll wait until you fall asleep,” he said.

“Thank you, Bucky.” You smiled and let your index finger run down the length of his nose. “Does it hurt when you sleep on your left side?”

“Not really,” he replied. “Most of the time it’s just weird. It feels like my phantom limb hangs down through the bed. Like my arm is invisible and just goes through the bed.”

“What do you miss the most?”

He let out a long exhale. “Not much. Hugs. Proper hugs... I guess. Holding someone close and wrapping myself around them. Squeezing someone against my chest, making them feel protected. I used to be a great hugger. Now I give bro hugs.”

“I love bro hugs.”

His chuckled dissolved into a grin, and you both stayed quiet for a moment. He knew you weren’t asleep, he could hear you thinking. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

“I was wondering,” you started, then trailed off. “One day we’ll have to end this arrangement. Do you think it’ll end well, or is it going to be messy?”

It took him a minute to respond.

“Y’know, one of the things I learned in therapy was to stop worrying about things I can’t control,” he said. “That’s in the future, for future-you and future-me. I don’t know how it’ll end but I can promise you one thing: I’ll always be there for you. Arrangement or not.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out. “Right-now-me is a lucky bitch.”

You both laughed softly, then fell into a contemplative silence. There was something so peaceful about lying in bed with you, his hand loosely wrapped around your wrist, sharing warmth. He didn’t want to fall asleep.

For the next hour you talked about your families, your childhood, your friends, your likes and your dislikes. You told him about being an adopted child and living with other adopted kids. He could tell you were holding back when you talked about your siblings.

The only one you gushed about was Okoye. You were evasive when you talked about Scott and Wanda, though you did tell him that you had agreed to meet Wanda.

“What’s your favorite comfort food?”

“Breakfast for dinner.” Your voice was soft and small, he knew you were falling asleep. “When I was a kid, we had breakfast for dinner every Sunday night. We’d grab a bowl of our favourite cereal and eat together in front of the TV. I miss those days.” Your face was half buried in your pillow. “What’s yours?”

“Easy, pancakes.”

You smiled, your eyes were closed. “I like pancakes too.”

He watched you fall asleep and made a mental note to make some pancakes for breakfast. Your breathing evened out, and he waited a few more minutes to make sure you were asleep before he rolled onto his back and closed his eyes.

Bucky woke up to the sound of rain striking against the window. He opened his eyes and noted that the room seemed brighter than usual. A quick glance at the bedside clock told him that it was already a little past eight.

He stretched, sighing contentedly, and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with his closed fist. He tilted his head to look at you, still sleeping next to him. You lay on your stomach with your face turned away from him and your arms hugging your pillow. He adjusted the covers around your shoulders and stealthy slipped out of bed.

He went to the window and fixed the shades to make sure they didn’t let any light in. Then he made his way downstairs where he found Steve cracking eggs into a bowl. He was still wearing Bucky’s clothes, but his hair was a mess. Still he looked positively glowing.

“Mornin’,” Steve greeted with a wide smile.

“Hey, man.” Bucky took a seat at the kitchen island. “When did you get back?”

“About ten minutes ago. Long enough to notice that your angel hasn’t slept in her room last night. Wanna talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Bucky said with a shrug. “She didn’t want to be alone.”

“So you slept with her.”

“We slept in the same bed. Nuance.”

“I’m gonna nuance your face with my fist if you don’t talk to her soon,” Steve exclaimed. “She’s not going to stay single forever, Buck. Things are gonna change, one way or another.”

“I know.”

Steve set the bowl aside and held the edge of the counter behind him. He sighed, exasperated. “If I were you, I’d talk to her before something happens and takes your choices away from you.”

Bucky pinched his lips together, hard, and looked down at the counter. A muscle in his jaw jumped. “I- I don’t know how to talk to her,” he said, feeling tears gather in his eyes. He met Steve’s eyes. “I physically can’t talk to her. It hurts. It’s stuck here-” he aggressively grabbed his stomach “-all the time. And it hurts, Steve, you have no idea how painful it is.”

“That’s love,” Steve replied, smiling at him like he, too, knew how it felt.

“Well, it fucking sucks.”

Bucky wiped the back of his hand against his runny nose. Steve stood there in silence.

“This book I’m writing,” Bucky said, breaking the silence. “It’s about her. Just her.” He paused. “I can’t back down now, my publicist’s too invested in our story. I know it’s an eccentric way of telling someone you fell in love with them but... writing’s easier than talking.”

Steve nodded, his eyes glued to the floor. “It’s like a long love letter.”

“Something like that.” Bucky climbed off the stool and rounded the kitchen island. “Now, I’m going to make breakfast. I promised her pancakes.”

Steve smiled and watched him move around the kitchen. “I hope it works out for you, Bucky. I really do.”

Part 10

[words-writ-in-starlight]

For the ask meme: Sarah x Jareth (I almost wrote that as David Bowie), 14, 22, and 29!

I am RIGHT NOW watching Labyrinth with my partners, EXCELLENT timing!  Cut for length.

14) When one has a cold, what does the other do?

Jareth has never been “sick” a day in his immortal life.  He’s been stabbed, poisoned, cursed, and hungover, but even the weakest goblin is rarely “sick” and Jareth hasn’t spend enough time around mortals to have a good grasp of the fact that nonfatal illnesses even exist.    

Point is, there’s an intermediary period between Sarah pointedly ignoring every owl in sight, no matter the coloring, and Sarah becoming the Goblin Queen where she forces him to visit the mortal world more than he has in living memory, including his.  (Jareth has a vague sense that he might have been here more often once--perhaps when he was young, before he was King--but he’s been King so long, and the Labyrinth has a chain-tight grip on its own.)  Toby is entranced, and also terrified--he doesn’t buy Jareth’s glamour for a second.  Sarah spends half her life running interference on Jareth’s behavior, and the other half doing a double major in political sciences and folklore.  Which she decided to get before she agreed to start talking to Jareth again, thank you, kindly fuck off.

Point is, eventually even Sarah’s suspiciously excellent immune system clocks out for the day, and she wakes up with a splitting headache, a wet and congested cough, and a sense that her skin is being abraded by even her softest sheets.  She’s not sick-sick, it’s just a nasty head cold with a fever, but she calls out of class and flops down on the couch and mumbles non-answers to the goblin who lives in the top of her closet when it scuttles out to see why she’s still home.

She doesn’t even realize Jareth is there until she feels a shadow fall over her and cracks an eye to peer up at him blearily.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks in his most forbidding Goblin King voice, and she groans and pulls her blanket over her head.

“Go away, Jareth, I’m tired.”

“I will not,” he says automatically as he jerks the blanket down to her shoulder, and then he’s crouching down in front of her, mismatched eyes dangerous and inhumanly bright in the yellow light of her little dorm apartment.  “Who did this to you, Sarah?  I will not leave without an answer.”

“No one,” she says, squinting up at him.  “It’s just a cold.”

“’Cold’,” he repeats, in the same skeptical way that he said ‘phone’ when she complained about his unannounced visits.  “I am not aware of that particular toxin.”

“I’m just sick, it’s not like I’ve been poisoned.”

“An illness?”  He pauses, pulls a glove off one hand and reaches out to touch her cheek experimentally.  His fingers are always cold compared to hers, and she shivers hard when he touches her skin, but he doesn’t flinch.  There’s something odd on his face, a locked-up hardness, and he says, “What is it?”

“A cold,” Sarah says again, pulling her blankets back up to her chin and shutting her eyes.  “I’m just going to feel like garbage for a few days.  Probably less if you let me sleep.  Come back and bother me on Saturday.”

He doesn’t leave.  Whatever, Sarah decides--that’s his problem.  She’s tired and feverish and annoyed and she’s going to sleep whether Jareth likes it or not.  She thinks he’s talking to someone--probably that snitch in the closet--about something--sounded vaguely like library and cold--but that’s Not Her Concern.  Sarah is done here.  She feels the end of the couch sink down by her feet just before she falls asleep.

When she wakes up, the Goblin King is still there, reading a book filched from one of her shelves, pen tapping idly against his lips--he’s marking up the fairy tales again, god, she hates his guts sometimes--and there’s a series of tidy piles on the rickety coffee table.  It looks like someone robbed a pharmacy and cleaned out their Cough And Cold aisle, and then sorted their booty by color, which suggests probably goblins just smart enough to recognize a word their king showed them, but not smart enough to read the labels.

Sarah smiles a little and grabs some cough drops from the top of the red pile, and condescends to drape her legs over Jareth’s lap before she goes back to sleep.

22) Where does their first kiss happen?

Sarah has a much harder time in college than she expected.  Not with being away from home, although she does miss Toby something awful and spends every second of her breaks with him.  No, the problem is that she has to share a room.  All the way through freshman year, she has a roommate, and--

And the roommate is fine, she’s a perfectly inoffensive girl from Chicago who keeps her things on her own side of the shoebox room they share and doesn’t bring anyone back to the room and never makes noise late at night, but Sarah hates it.  She can’t quite put her finger on why--is a little afraid of what she might say if pressed, if she’s honest.  She has these half-finished thoughts that involve words like territory and invader and mine.  Sarah has worked very hard not to be a selfish teenager or, possibly worse, the kind of girl who sometimes talks to a Goblin King and wonders privately if his final offer was serious.

Sarah has no plans to be the Goblin Queen, is the point, no matter what Hoggle mutters under his breath when she admits, the summer after her first year of college, that she’s talking to Jareth again.  (He just--he can come see her, there, and he can look like a person, and none of her other friends can, and people are weirdly nervous of Sarah, these days, and she was lonely, okay, so she let an owl into her room while her roommate was gone, and let them who never made a bad choice in college throw the first stone.)  And that means getting over herself and never voicing any of the thoughts that creep into her head about how her roommate, who has every right to sleep here, deserves to be thrown in an oubliette for disturbing Sarah’s peace.

Sarah is better than that, these days.

The only person who isn’t fooled is, of course, Jareth, who is very perceptive and also very persistently determined to visit regularly.  He smothers smirks when he sees Sarah force herself to be kind, and once offers, sweet as arsenic, to take Sarah’s roommate off her hands if you just say the right words, precious.  Sarah glares at him and pointedly turns her back, and he laughs as he leaves.  But he never does anything to her roommate, and Sarah doesn’t think about how Jareth never actually does anything to her space or anything in it, and doesn’t think about the rules that fairy tales handed down for millennia about places that fall under the power of a creature not to be toyed with.

She’s signed up to room with the same girl for sophomore year, because she doesn’t have a reason to claim a single and seniors always snap up the free ones.  But she shows up to get her key, and the registrar frowns and clicks a few things and then shrugs and hands Sarah a key.  He gives Sarah directions to one of the buildings up-campus, and Sarah goes, not particularly suspicious--she’s never been to the up-campus buildings, because people are nervous around Sarah and, while she’s manages to make a friend or two, no one really invites her back to their room.  Into their space.

Sarah opens her door and stands there, staring, mildly shocked.

Apparently, she is now the proud resident of a senior-only dorm room, one of the very tiny apartments that are supposed to house two people, with a kitchenette and a couch and everything.  There’s no one else’s name on the other door.  Sarah is late moving in, but there’s no sign of anyone here, except--

The Goblin King is sitting at the desk in the bedroom that gets the most sunlight, feet kicked lazily up on the wooden top and playing a pair of crystals between his fingers, and he smirks at her.

“I know, I know,” he drawls, vanishing the crystals with a twist of his fingers.  “I have no power over you.  But the school’s quartermaster--”

“Registrar,” Sarah corrects automatically.  He makes a dismissive gesture.  “Did you--do this?”

“Of course,” Jareth says.  “This...situation is apparently the height of luxury at this institution.  You did so despise that fluttering creature--”

“Molly was perfectly nice--”

“--and I see no reason for you to endure her for another year.”

Sarah--should really say that he’s an interfering, high-handed bastard who pretends that he has the divine right to arrange her life to his liking, and keeps rules-lawyering his way around her totally legitimate freedom from his interference.

Sarah really doesn’t want to share a room again.

“What do you want in return?”  She doesn’t even pretend that she’s not suspicious, and he puts on an offended face, bringing his feet down and pressing his lips together.

“It is a gift, Sarah.”

...oh.  Sarah blinks for a moment.  He sounds--geniunely annoyed.  Gifts are, in her knowledge of the Underground and the fae alike, serious business.

She acts without thinking, takes a step forward and tucks her hair behind her ear, and kisses the high point of his cheekbone above his frown.  When she pulls back, she sees a moment of transparent, raw shock before he orders his face into a self-satisfied and haughty raised eyebrow.

“Don’t say anything,” Sarah tells him, feeling her cheeks burn.  “If you can keep your mouth shut, this might resemble a nice moment.”

“If I had known that I could claim debts in kisses--”

“You can’t!” Sarah interrupts loudly.  “Don’t get any ideas!  Now get out and let me unpack!”

29) Why do they fall a little bit more in love?

Jareth is already thoroughly decided that Sarah is eventually going to agree to be his queen, one way or another, by the time she finally sighs and opens her window and tells the owl that if he’s very very good, and doesn’t talk to Toby, and looks like a regular person, she will speak to him just to get him to stop lurking.  He breaks all of those rules very quickly, of course, but she doesn’t kick him out--instead, she yells at him, and he puts on his coldest and haughtiest voice as he snaps back at her, and it’s fun.  Jareth never could turn down a challenge, and it’s been a long time since he faced a challenge he might lose, and just like the first time, it makes him ruthlessly determined to win.

It’s not news to him, therefore, that he loves her.

She manages to lie, obfuscate, and generally bullshit her way around admitting what she does at school for nearly three years.  But she starts writing her thesis and slips up, and Jareth is stretched on her bed in the apartment he arranged for her like he lives there when he idly picks up a piece of paper and skims her proposal and she sees his eyebrow rise slowly before he holds it up at her.

“What’s this, precious?”

“Homework,” she says flatly.

“‘Thesis Proposal,’” he reads aloud, drawling.  “‘Sarah Williams.  Proposed title: I’d’ve Et Thy Heart of Flesh: Fairy Tales as a Portrait of Royalty Through History.  Majors: Folklore and...’”  His mocking drawl pauses, and he can’t quite hide his transparent delight as he finishes the sentence.  “‘...and Political Science.’”  

When he looks up from the page, she has a stubborn set to her mouth and a bright spark in her eyes, almost angry.  “It’s not about you, you arrogant prick, I picked my majors years ago.  Give me that, I need the notes.”

“And what do fairy tales say about royalty, dearest?”

“That they’re prideful jerks who steal kids for armies and play favorites--the paper, Jareth.”

“And what do you plan to do with your degree in politics?”

“Regicide,” Sarah snaps, and jumps out of her chair to snatch the paper out of his fingers.  He lets her, and smiles at the way she blushes stark red across her cheekbones and down her throat, and wonders whether she would like the emerald ring he’s kept in his private chambers for the past three years.

Mortals have been doing diamonds, for betrothals, but he thinks green suits her better.