#anyway. fingers crossed for me please. like i said; i don’t particularly want to be a teacher but i think i am one so i’m just gonna have

[chickenlizard13]

Stay Right Here

Pairing: Ominis Gaunt x Reader (gender neutral)

Word Count: 7689

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mature 18+, Graphic Depictions of Violence

Description: Part 3 of All You've Done and Let Me See. You don't have to have read All You've Done, but you do need to have read Let Me See. Anyway, takes place directly after Let Me See.

Someone was pounding at your door. Squinting your eyes open, you peer through the curtains at the pink and purple sky, the sun just starting to rise. The pounding stops abruptly, and you assume whomever it was had left, deciding to try again later. Shoving your face back into the crook of Ominis’s neck, you close your eyes once more. His arms squeeze you unconsciously, groaning a bit in his sleep as he cuddles you closer. 

You’re only given a few moments of tranquil peace before the knocking starts up again, startling you into awareness. Sighing, you relish the feel of Ominis’s bare skin a second more, eventually detangling yourself from him and getting up. Swiping his discarded shirt from the night before, you button it clumsily, unconcerned with being presentable for your visitor. 

Trudging downstairs, you walk slowly toward the front door, griping to yourself under your breath. What could someone possibly need this early? Opening the door, you rub the sleep out of your eyes before looking at the figures before you. Sebastian and Anne stood on your doorstep, grinning like fools, delighted by your disgruntled face. “What are you two doing here?”

Sebastian scoffed, rolling his eyes at you. “What do you mean ‘What are we doing here’? You’re getting married.” 

Your sleep addled brain took a bit to process his words, furrowing your brow in confusion as you observed Anne’s giddy smile. “...Today?”

Anne chuckled. “That’s what Ominis’s letter said. Did he forget to propose?”

Shaking your head, you glance back and forth between them, noting the bag Anne carried. “I thought he was joking.” 

You heard an offended noise come from over your shoulder, Ominis walking up behind you, already dressed and fiddling with his cufflinks. “I would never joke about marrying you.” 

“Not about marrying me, you silly man, about marrying me today. How are you already dressed? You were dead asleep two minutes ago.” 

Finally satisfied with his cufflinks, Ominis places a hand on your waist, kissing your head in greeting. “Well, darling, I used a little something called ma- Is this my shirt?”

Ominis stops talking abruptly, feeling the fabric between his fingers as a light blush dusts his cheeks. “Are you- What else are you wearing?” 

Ominis looks scandalized at your lack of clothing, placing himself in front of you, blocking Anne and Sebastian’s view. “Why would you answer the door like this?!” 

Rolling your eyes, you peek out at your friends. “My love, it’s just Sebastian and Anne, nothing to worry about.” 

Ominis scoffed at you, baffled by your carefree attitude. “Darling, what if it hadn’t been Anne and Sebastian? You’re practically naked!” 

“And who’s fault is that?” Your tone is flat, eyebrows raised in accusation. Ominis sputters at you, ears growing red in embarrassment. 

Anne and Sebastian watched the two of you bicker, glancing at each other knowingly. “Merlin, they’re so in love.”

“It’s a bit disgusting, isn’t it?”

“Do you think this is their version of foreplay?” 

“I don’t particularly want to find out. Anyway! Should we get this show on the road?” Sebastian pushes past the two of you, waltzing right into your house uninvited. Grabbing the bag from Anne, Sebastian places it on your dining room table, calling to his sister over his shoulder. “Anne! Could you please help the lovely bride find something suitable to wear.” 

You huffed in annoyance, crossing your arms dramatically. “I can’t just get married in this?”

All three of your companions objected. A chorus of ‘No’, ‘Hell no’, and ‘Absolutely not’ had you rolling your eyes and trudging back upstairs. “Alright, alright, fine. I’m going.” 

Anne trotted after you, commenting on the large mirror in your room. “Merlin, what could you possibly need that for?”

You blush, quickly grabbing your wand and transfiguring the mirror back into a bureau. “Don’t, uh, don’t worry about it. Help me find something to wear.” 

The two of you combed through your closet, selecting something nice, but not overly dressy. It would just be the four of you, so you didn’t feel the need for formal attire. Once you were ready, you walked into the yard, the sun painting the sky in bright morning hues. Ominis stood staring at the colors, snake around his shoulders. He was facing away from you, but turned in your direction at your approach.

Ominis sucked in a breath, enchanted by the sight of you, bathed in the morning light. He smiled at you sweetly, voice nothing more than a mere whisper. “Hello, my love.” 

You walked up beside him, grinning, taking his hand before turning to Sebastian. “Alright, get on with it.” 

Sebastian shook his head fondly, muttering about your impatience under his breath. You and Ominis stood side by side, reciting your vows, Ominis never taking his eyes off you. Once you’d finished, Ominis squeezed your hand, silently asking you to look at him. Turning your gaze to him, you found a small, adoring smile gracing his lips, those same lips mouthing a quiet ‘I love you’, as your small herd of cats came bounding out of the bushes, rubbing up against both of you. Sebastian made direct eye contact with Anne again, mirroring her amused smile at the ridiculously sweet scene. 

When it came time, Sebastian produced a small box from the bag. Cocking your head, you look at the box curiously, gasping as Sebastian opened it to reveal a beautiful set of rings. You turn your wide eyes to Ominis, unoccupied hand coming up to cover your mouth. His smile widened, squeezing your fingers again as he spoke. “Do you like them?”

“Do I-...My love, when-” 

“You weren’t the only one planning a surprise.” 

Tears pooled in your eyes, the reality of the situation sinking in. You got to marry this wonderful man, fortunate enough to love and be loved by him for the rest of your life. “Sebastian, hurry up so we can put these on. I want to kiss my husband.” 

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but refrained from arguing, clearly recognizing the excitement on both your faces. He concluded the ceremony, Ominis slipping the ring on your finger, kissing it delicately, before allowing you to place his. He didn’t wait for Sebastian’s permission, grabbing the back of your neck as soon as his ring was on, kissing you lovingly, struggling to control his happy grin. 

The four of you celebrated for a few hours, eating breakfast and catching up, Sebastian and Anne bidding you farewell in the early afternoon. As soon as they disappeared, you and Ominis wasted no time running back upstairs, giggling in giddy excitement as you undressed each other. He kissed you like he’d die without you, smile persevering, teasing words slipping out in a playful tone. When you're finished, you lay together in quiet contentment, savoring the cool touch of the new additions on your fingers.

—-------

Both of you had taken the week off work, spending your ‘honeymoon’ lazing about the house or taking short trips to London or Hogsmead, just generally enjoying your time as newlyweds. 

A sharp knock sounded at your door, interrupting the quiet morning filled only with your soft conversation and the steam from your coffee. The both of you stood, walking to the door as Ominis teased you, playfully demanding to know your outfit before opening the door. Rolling your eyes fondly, you tell him he’s being ridiculous, opening the door as he settles behind you, left hand on your hip. 

You don’t recognize the couple standing in front of you, both tall and striking, clearly very wealthy from their state of dress. “Hello? How can we help you?” 

The woman says nothing at first, pointedly staring at Ominis’s hand on your hip, ring clearly visible. Raising an eyebrow, she scoffs, eyes flitting up to look at your husband. “So this is where you’ve been? How…quaint.” 

Ominis’s hand tightened on you instantly, pulling you back against him protectively. The young man beside her smirked condescendingly, eyes roaming the inside of your home, setting you on edge. “Excuse you-“ 

“What do you want, mother.” 

The woman sneered, an evil glint in her eyes. “My, my, still rude as ever I see. No matter, we simply came to…chat.” 

Ominis bared his teeth, pulling you further into him. “We? Who is ‘we’.” 

Her sneer turned to a sly smile, voice purring as she answered. “Marvolo came to visit as well.” 

Ominis placed his other hand on the door, knuckles white as he gripped the wood, preparing to slam it shut. “We aren’t interested in chatting. I believe I made that quite clear when I renounced the Gaunt family and my birthright. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave our property and never return. Good day.” 

Ominis attempts to close the door in his mother’s face, but Marvolo’s foot shoots out, preventing Ominis from getting too far. “Really, Ominis. After we put so much effort into finding you? You’d deny your own family an audience? Such a rude child. Clearly living in this hovel has done you no good these past few years.” 

Ominis grinds his teeth together and you can feel his anxiety rising. His grip on your hip is almost bruising, making sure no space remains between you. “You are not my family. What. Do. You. Want.” 

His mother sighs dramatically, as if she were speaking to a toddler. “Well dear, if you must know, your fiancé has grown weary of waiting for your return, so your brother and I came to fetch you. Don’t you think it’s about time you stopped playing house and came home?” 

Your husband growls dangerously, breathing becoming erratic as his rage builds. “Well mother, I’m delighted to inform you that I’m already married. So your trip here was a wasted one.”

He tries again to close the door, but is once again stopped by Marvolo, his brother’s hand now also pushing the door open. “Marvolo. Get your filthy appendages out of my fucking house.” 

His brother chuckles darkly, a chill creeping up your spine. You itch to run into the kitchen, where your wands lay uselessly, but fear the consequences of leaving Ominis alone with his vile relatives. “This…sham marriage is of no consequence to us. Easily taken care of, annulled or…otherwise.”

Ominis snarls at his brother, arm now wrapping around your middle, shoulders hunched over you protectively. “Threaten my spouse again, and your severed head will decorate our dining room table.” 

Ominis’s mother sighs again, boldly looking at you as she shakes her head. “Boys, really, there’s no need for that. Ominis dear, just let us in so we can have a civilized conversation about this.” 

Your husband’s voice is low and dangerous in your ear as he answers her. “Absolutely not.” 

She sighs in disappointment, but you can see the tick of her mouth, pulling the corner into an almost smile. “How unfortunate. Then I suppose you’ll have to come out.” 

Without warning, Marvolo casts the Cruciatus Curse, hitting you square in the chest. You can barely hear Ominis’s panicked shouts over your own screams, and suddenly you’re being ripped away from him, body hitting the grass as you’re tossed onto the front lawn. Ominis tries desperately to get to you, following the sounds of your agony. Squinting your eyes open, you see Marvolo restraining your husband, who fights wildly in his grip. His mother saunters over, calmly casting Imperio on Ominis, instantly ceasing his struggle, face blank. “Now dear, that’s quite enough. Let’s return home, shall we?”

She turns to you as you lay twitching in the ground, haughty smile denoting her condescension. “You were a fool to believe yourself worthy of a pure blood. I leave you alive only as a courtesy to my son, as he would likely do something drastic if you died. Take this as a warning, should you decide to pay us a visit.” 

With that, she put a controlling hand on his shoulder, apparating back to the Gaunt estate. The last thing you see is Ominis’s neutral expression pointed in your direction, tears streaking from his eyes as he mindlessly allows his family to take him. 

—————

You lay on the ground a few more moments, breathing heavily as the feeling slowly returns to your body. Once you can move your limbs again, you push yourself up quickly. There was no time to waste, even as your body screamed at you to stop, you sprinted into the house. You stumble your way into the kitchen, opening your potions cupboard and downing a couple Wiggenweld potions, pocketing the rest. 

Most of the pain subsided, and you got to work quickly, writing a hasty letter to Sebastian and Anne, explaining the situation and that you were heading straight there. Your hands shook slightly, the letters wobbly as you wrote, a few stray tears falling on the page, blurring the ink. There was no time to start over, so you sealed the letter, presenting it to your owl and begging it to fly as fast as it could. The wise bird took off instantly, disappearing out the window in a heartbeat. 

Making sure to grab both wands from the table, you curse yourself for being so careless, knowing this could have been prevented if you’d just been more prepared. You prayed Ominis was alright, navigating his surroundings would be much more difficult without his wand. 

Sprinting outside, you barely remember to lock the door behind you before you’re taking to the sky, speeding in the direction of the Gaunt estate. 

Ominis informed you of the precise location of his childhood home after moving in, if only so you’d keep your distance from it. He wanted to be sure you knew its location, to avoid stumbling into their wicked talons accidentally on your many ventures. 

Now, you were especially grateful for his forethought, though your current purpose was in direct contrast with his intent. You flew for hours, fear driving you forward, cursing your broom for its slowness. Tears flew out behind you, the harsh winds whipping them away as soon as they formed. Merlin you hoped he was unharmed, and if he wasn’t, the Gaunts would pay dearly for their idiocy. They clearly held no idea exactly who their son married.

Eventually, you spot the estate, a massive house, dripping in grandeur. However, you knew it for the lie it was. Ominis had also confided that his family lay on the brink of destruction, Salazar Slytherin’s wealth having long run out. The betrothal they’d attempted to force him into was solely to absorb his fiancé’s family wealth, and carry on the Gaunt name. 

The family had yet to marry off Marvolo, as his particularly strong penchant for cruelty, ended several engagements prematurely. You weren’t surprised, thoughts circling back to your brief interaction that morning. It stood to reason that the Gaunts now placed all their faith in Ominis to regain their lost riches, knowing they wouldn’t have bothered retrieving him had Marvolo been a viable option.

You land softly, just behind the tree line, keeping an eye out for any hidden persons or traps. All seemed quiet, which you knew was never a good sign. Creeping around the side, you find a low window, unlocking it skillfully and slipping inside. You cast Disillusionment prowling through the halls, looking for signs of Ominis. Eventually, you spot a house elf scrubbing the walls of a long corridor. Sneaking up behind the elf, you snatch the back of his rags, dragging him into a dark corner as you release your invisibility spell. Pointing your wand at his throat, you pull him close to growl dangerously in his face. “Where. Is. My. Husband.” 

The elf shook his head violently in fear, lips moving but no sound coming out. Glancing at his throat, you see a nasty old scar splitting the front of it, registering that the Gaunts had removed the poor thing's ability to speak. A part of you felt terrible for inflicting more terror on the sad creature, but it was quickly swept away by the growing urgency to find Ominis and get out. 

The elf lifted his fingers, snapping them in an attempt to apparate. Ancient magic pulsed at the end of your wand, feeling your desperation and preventing the house elf’s escape. You looked at him now, eyes wide with unshed tears as you pleaded with him. “Please, where are these vile people keeping my sweet Ominis?” 

The elf stopped his struggle, watching you intently for a moment, glancing down the corridor towards the opposite end. You gesture in the same direction with your head, eyes flitting to the side before looking back hopefully. The elf nods slightly, squeezing your wrist in silent confirmation. A shuddering huff escapes your lips, as you haul the elf against you, crushing him in a brief hug. “Thank you.” 

Quickly releasing the house elf, you ignore his shocked stare as you cast Disillusionment tearing down the hall as quietly as possible. You inspect each door you pass, finally stopping before the very last one, a heavy lock securing the handle. If Ominis was in any of these rooms, it’d be this one. 

The lock was complicated, and it took you far longer than you would have liked to unlock it, but you heard the quiet click and hastily pushed the door open. Closing the door quietly behind you, you turn and immediately have to dodge a book being thrown at you. You look up from your crouched position at Ominis, shirt unbuttoned and hair disheveled, like someone had been running their hands through it. Ominis’s chest heaves, sightless eyes wild as they search for the intruder. You try to call for him, but are swiftly dodging a pillow streaking towards you, Ominis throwing anything he could get his hands on. You glance over at the bed briefly, spotting a beautiful woman with dark hair in a nearly sheer slip dress, the thin straps falling off her shoulders, eyes closed and seemingly asleep. 

Your stomach drops, heart breaking at the thought of your husband’s infidelity. Struggling to pull air into your lungs, you barely avoid another book whizzing past your head, Ominis spitting angry words in your direction. “Marvolo! You fucking son of a bitch. Take me back to my spouse now!” 

His chest heaved angrily, pausing his assault a moment, trying to gauge where he thought his brother had gone. Pushing your anguish down, you call to him quietly, though you can’t hide the bitterness in your tone. “Ominis. It’s me.” 

Surprise flits across his face, before it crumples into intense relief, a sob ripping itself from his throat. “My love, you’re ok.” 

He feels his way toward the sound of your voice, reaching out for you blindly. You don’t let him touch you, instead shoving his wand into his hand roughly before turning back toward the door. Voice cold and devoid of all emotion. “Let’s go. If you even still want to.”

Before you can get too far, Ominis catches your wrist firmly, tugging you back towards him a step. Turning your head, you look at his worried face, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Darling, what-”

At that moment, you both hear a quiet sigh coming from the bed, both of your heads whipping toward it, and you watch as the sleeping woman shifts slightly before settling again. Realization dawns on Ominis’s face, neck snapping back to you frantically. His hand squeezes your wrist tightly, preventing you from moving away from him as he speaks in a panic. “My love, it’s not- please, it’s not what you think. I- She- My brother locked me in here with her, and-” 

You can see the fear blatant on his face, his other hand reaching for you, trying desperately to pull you closer. “She-She tried to…have me, but-! I-I didn’t let her. I knocked her unconscious, so-...my love, please.” 

Ominis was hyperventilating, hands shaking violently, his face scared as he begged you to believe him. Your heart swelled in relief, ashamed that you’d even considered his betrayal. Moving into his arms, you wrap yourself around him, holding him the way you’d longed to since he’d been taken. “I’m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have assumed-”

“No- darling, it’s alright. I understand why you’d think…anyway, let’s get out of here. I’d very much like to go home now.” Nodding in agreement, you both sneak out of the room, locking the door behind you to avoid suspicion should someone walk by. Ominis leads you back towards the entrance, glancing around before pulling it open quietly. 

You’d just made it down the steps, hurrying toward the front gates, almost home free, when you felt something wrap around your throat and yank you backwards. Choking, you lose your concentration on Disillusionment, you fall to your knees, gasping for air as the spell retracts back into Marvolo’s wand. Ominis rushes to your side, hands frantic as he asks if you’re alright. 

You look back at the steps of the estate to see Marvolo and his mother, as well as Ominis’s father standing imposingly, framed by the intimidating Gaunt estate. Mrs. Gaunt smiles haughtily, eyes sharp as she sneers down at you. “Going so soon? You didn’t even say goodbye.” 

Peeking out from behind her legs, you see the house elf from earlier, glancing at you in shame as dark bruises formed on his skin. Your heart wept, vowing to return for him at a later date. You stand, facing the three wizards in front of you, planting yourself between Ominis and his family. “We’re going home.”

Mrs. Gaunt laughed wickedly, twirling her wand idly in her hands. “My dear, Ominis is home. If you think that shack of yours is worthy of him, I’m afraid you’re sorely mistaken. Likewise, if you think you’re worthy of him…well, that’s just plain embarrassing.” 

Snarling, you feel Ominis take your hand, the cold metal of his ring grounding you. You look her in the eyes, determination settling behind them. “I said- We’re. Going. Home.”

The smile dropped from his mother’s face, an ugly sneer taking its place, as she pointed her wand at you. “Fine. Have it your way.” 

All hell breaks loose, spells flying violently from all sides. You and Ominis work like a well oiled machine, attacking and defending as needed, slowly backing toward the gate. If you could just get to the treeline, you could apparate home, far away from the Gaunt estate. 

The Gaunts followed, spells violent and unrelenting. A stray bolt flew past you, striking the gate behind you in a loud crack, drawing your attention away from the battle briefly. Ominis’s mother took the opportunity to cast Bombarda, splintering a tree directly behind you. Ominis watches helplessly, the world slowing as the shrapnel streaks toward you with deadly accuracy, his wand picking up its trajectory. He screams your name, arms wrapping around you protectively as he spins your bodies, physically shielding you from the sharp spike. 

You feel his body jolt against yours, a pained grunt pushing past his lips as something large strikes him. Looking up in shock, you push at his chest, trying to pry yourself from his arms. “My love, what-”

His arms tighten around you, refusing to let you pull away from him, voice pleading in your ear. “Don’t look. It’s- I’m alright, my darling, just-just stay here with me.” 

The Gaunts cease their attack, watching the scene before them unfold. Ominis’s breathing becomes labored, and you fight against him harder, panic rising in your throat, choking you. “Ominis please, let me-let me see.”

His knees buckle as he focuses all his strength into the arms holding you, and you both slowly sink to the ground. Tears stream down your face, and you feel wet drops hitting your shoulder, Ominis’s voice steady, a small smile on his face in contrast with the sorrow in his heart. “I’m sorry, my love, I don’t-I don’t think I’ll be able to stay with you much longer.” 

You sob against him, anguish tearing at you, begging him to let you go. “Please. L-Let me go get help-”

“No. It’s ok. Stay right here.” Ominis’s voice was growing weak, chest shuddering with the effort to keep breathing, laboriously pushing as many words out as he could. “My darling…my t-time with you was the-the happiest I’ve ever been…even now, I would-I wouldn’t change a thing.”

His mother strolls up casually, voice amused and eyes excited as she watches you hold her dying son. “What a shame. He would have been so useful.”

She walks back towards her house, humming cheerily, smiling in satisfaction. She makes it all the way to the front steps before she stops, turning to look over her shoulder at you once more, delight coloring her smug words. “I would kill you, but now, I think the pain of watching my son die, knowing your efforts were in vain, would be a more delicious ending to this ludicrous fairytale.” 

Laughing once more, she and the rest of the Gaunts turn to stroll back into their house, the door slamming in finality, echoing through the courtyard. Silence follows, only broken by your heart wrenching sobs, muffled by Ominis’s shoulder. 

Ominis, kisses your temple lightly, arms growing weak around you, body leaning heavily on yours as the seconds drag by. He brings his lips back to your ear, voice barely above a whisper, forcing the words out. “I love you.”

Slumping against you, his body goes slack, and with your body finally freed, you claw desperately at your pockets, fingers fumbling with your Wiggenweld potions. You almost drop them on the ground, but you manage to wrangle Ominis to be lying in your lap, tears blurring your vision as you rip the cork out of the bottle.

You held the bottle to his lips, begging him to drink it, but his jaw remained slack, breathing shallow. Bringing the bottle up, you fill your cheeks with as much liquid as possible, pressing your lips to your husband’s, siphoning the potion into his mouth. 

Once all the liquid slid down his throat, you bring a hand to his face, voice raw as you wail at him to open his eyes. When nothing changes, you drop your head onto his chest, weeping into it as you listen to his fading heartbeat. 

Without warning, Anne and Sebastian appear before you, only taking a second to absorb the situation before springing into action. Sebastian gently pulls you away, cradling you against him, letting you cry into his shoulder as you beg Anne to help your dying husband. 

After Anne’s curse had been lifted, she’d made it her life’s mission to help heal others suffering from similar ailments. She’d been a nurse at St. Mungos for several years now, one of the best, if anyone could help Ominis, it would be her. 

Anne got right to work, wand pulsing with healing magic as she muttered over him. Your hands gripped the fabric of Sebastian’s arms as he held you up, whispering reassurances into your hair, trying his best to quell your hysteria. Once Ominis was stable enough, the Sallow twins looked at each other silently, having a brief eye conversation before apparating you both away from the Gaunt estate. You and Sebastian appear in your house, alone. Looking around frantically, you're about to ask where Ominis and Anne were, but Sebastian answered before you could get the words out. “They went to St. Mungos. He’ll be alright. Trust Anne, ok?”

Face crumpling in anguish, you collapse onto your couch, sobbing into the palms of your hands. Sebastian sits next to you, pulling you against him, rubbing your back and letting you soak his shirt. 

—-------

You’d gotten an owl from Anne early the next morning, tearing the parchment open in your haste to read its contents. You hadn’t slept a wink, the bags heavy under your eyes, blinking to stay awake. Anne wrote that Ominis was stable, but hadn’t woken up yet, inviting you to visit if you were feeling up for it. You didn’t need to be told twice, shaking Sebastian awake from his place on the couch, apologizing as you begged him to take you to the hospital. 

He obliged immediately, also eager to see his best friend. Upon arriving, you grab Anne in a death grip, sobbing your gratitude into her shoulder. She shushes you, playfully reminding you that you and Ominis were her family, and she’d be damned if she let anything happen to either one of you. 

You sat at Ominis’s bedside, stroking his cheek sadly as you gazed at his sleeping form, his heart beat strong and steady. Sebastian stood leaning against the doorway, watching you silently. “You’re going, aren’t you?”

You huff humorlessly, never taking your eyes away from your husband’s face. “Am I that predictable?”

Sebastian chuckles quietly. “Nah, I just happen to know you pretty well. Go, I’ll stay with him. Give them hell.”

Kissing Ominis’s forehead tenderly, you stand, sparing him one last longing glance. You walked toward the door, eyes staring at nothing in particular as you stopped briefly, shoulder touching Sebastian’s. “They’ll wish that’s all I gave them.”

Without another word, you walked silently out the door, exiting the hospital completely before apparating away.

—-------

A storm brewed outside the Gaunt estate, lightning striking the trees around the house as you stalked through the front gates, not even bothering to conceal your presence. Casting Bombarda, you blow the front door right off its hinges, ribbons of ancient magic whipping around you in your fury as you strode into the foyer. Marvolo Gaunt comes running from the second floor, appearing at the top of the grand staircase, a look of alarm painting his features. He shouts, brandishing his wand at you, only able to get the first syllable of a spell out of his mouth before you shatter a vase against his head.

Snarling in rage, you quickly cast Accio, dragging him screaming down the stairs, making sure he slammed into each one. His body crumples at the bottom, groaning in pain as you stalk over, looming above him, eyes glowing dangerously. 

He looks up at you, face bloody from his newly broken nose, and tries to raise his wand at you. The heel of your boot comes slamming down on his hand, snapping his wand, and a few fingers all at once. He wailed again, tears springing to his eyes as he pathetically begged you to stop.

Sneering down at him, you bear your teeth, voice a low hateful hiss as it slips past your lips. “Stop?…You tried to take the love of my life from me…and you want me to stop? Let me tell you something, you worthless little insect, you have no idea what I’m capable of. I’m going to make the Cruciatus Curse look like a walk in the park.” 

Marvolo looked at you in fear, trembling and pleading with you for mercy, but you had no mercy to give. Casting Flipendo, you slammed him down on his back, pointing your wand at his knee cap and shattering the bone beneath the skin, permanently crippling him. He screamed in agony, hyperventilating as hysterical sobs wracked his chest. 

Using your wand, you magically drag his limp body behind you, relishing the pathetic chorus of whimpers as you search for the other two Gaunts. Servants cower away from you, shoving their bodies as far into the dark corners as they could. You paid them no mind, focusing solely on the three Gaunts who’d wronged your sweet husband. 

Ancient Magic billowed around you, shattering every door and window you passed, the tendrils almost sentient as they searched for their targets. 

You found the other two quickly, wood splintering everywhere as their afternoon tea time turned to raging chaos. Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt stood abruptly from their seats, wands at the ready, but they never got the chance to use them. Using your wand, you violently slammed Marvolo’s broken body onto the carpet at their feet, the young man letting out a pained yelp on impact. 

His mother covered her mouth in horrified shock, eyes raking over the damage you’d done to her eldest son. His father was the first to act, raising his wand to attack, spell on the tip of his tongue. You quickly cast Diffindo, slicing straight through the front of his throat, stealing his ability to speak in much the same way he’d done to his house elf. His hand flew to his throat as he began choking on his own blood, but you weren’t finished, using Accio to drag him forward. 

Mrs. Gaunt recovered from her shock, pointing her wand at you in an effort to cast the killing curse, words leaving her lips much too late. As soon as her husband sat on his knees before you, you recklessly cast Depulso in her direction, slamming her spine against a marble pillar and causing the spell to hit the ceiling harmlessly. She slumped on the ground, unconscious for the moment as you turned back to Mr. Gaunt. 

Terror shone clear in his eyes, lips flapping uselessly as no sound passed them. Blood gushed heavily from the tear in his neck, your fingers gripping his hair roughly, ripping out chunks as you yanked his head back. The tip of your wand grew hot, a small fire springing to life at the end of it. The Gaunt patriarch shook his head desperately, eyes darting between your wand and your emotionless face. Ignoring his silent pleas, you brought your wand to the wound on his throat, cauterizing the skin in an ugly scar. His mouth opened in a silent scream, tears of pain streaking from his eyes, hands clawing at your arm uselessly. 

When you finished, you tossed him by the hair onto the ground, stepping over his trembling form as you prowled toward his wife. 

Ominis’s mother lay slumped against the pillar, moaning in pain. You cast Confringo on a nearby chair as you stalked forward, fisting a splintered leg in your hand. Mrs. Gaunt looked up at you weakly, eyes never leaving yours as you stood over her, watching you crouch down to her level. Her breath shuddered out of her, eyes flitting to the bodies of her husband and son, her lips trembling as she attempted to speak. “Wait-”

You don’t wait, instead, you reel back ramming the sharp wood into her side as far as it’ll go, in exactly the same spot she’d struck Ominis. She cried out in pain, hands grasping at the wood in an attempt to pull it out, voice a quiet sob as she tried to speak. “Who-Who the hell are you?”

You ground the stake deeper, pulling another wail from her lips before leaning in to whisper dangerously in her ear. “You really should have done your research before showing up at my house. Of all the foolish mistakes you made, your first error was failing to learn exactly who your son married.” 

Leaning back you look her directly in the eye, letting the truth slip brutally off your tongue, relishing the horrified realization on her face as she processed your words. “I killed Victor Rookwood. I slaughtered Ranrok and his loyalists. I wield magic so powerful it’d make your fucking head spin. The dumbest thing you could have done is piss me off.” 

Getting as close as you can, you make sure she can see the dark malice in your eyes. “You’re beyond lucky my husband is still alive. I would set the fucking world on fire for that man, and if he’d died, today would have gone very differently for you.” 

Standing to your full height, you glare down at her, eyes crazed as ancient magic pulsed off you. “If you ever show up on my property again, you’ll wish I’d killed you instead.” 

Without another word, you stalked back the way you came, making it all the way to the destroyed foyer before noticing slight movement behind one of the large pillars. Whipping your head over, you prepare to spit your ire at the figure, but are met with the wide eyes of the Gaunts unfortunate house elf, peeking out at you from behind the tall column. 

Your shoulders relax, fire dimming a bit as you observe the frightened creature. You walk over slowly, stopping a healthy distance away, the poor thing shrinking back when you get too close. Several emotions tore through you all at once, but you try as best you can to keep your voice as calm and soothing as possible. “You serve the whole Gaunt family, don’t you?” 

The house elf stares at you a moment, nodding shyly.

“I am technically a Gaunt. Would you like to come with me?” You hold your hand out to him in invitation, providing him the option to escape this cruel life of abuse and neglect. He hesitates only a moment, before slowly creeping out from behind the pillar, placing his trust in you as he takes your hand gently.

Smiling at him, you both stride out of the Gaunt estate, apparating back to Ominis. 

—-------

Ominis woke up a few hours later, blinking blearily, eyes heavy from being unconscious for so long. He sits up slightly, hissing at the pain in his side as he fumbles around, searching for his wand, relieved to find it sitting on the bedside table. His wand pulses, giving him a general idea of the layout of the room, but leaves him confused by the unfamiliar surroundings. His wand pulses again, and he spots you over by the window, back to him. Calling your name quietly, he expects you to whirl around and run to his side. Instead, you seemingly hadn’t heard him, figure silent as you stood unmoving from the window. He tries again, voice a little louder than it had been. “My love?” 

You turn to him slowly this time, stubbornly retaining your position by the window. His heart shattered as he finally heard your quiet sniffling and shuddering breaths. Sitting up abruptly, he ignores the pain in his side as he reaches for you, frantic with concern. “My darling, what-”

“Lay back down.” Your words are quiet and commanding, an angry bite behind them. Your arms remained crossed over your chest, refusing to move closer.

Ominis falters a bit, wondering what he’d done to make you so upset with him. He tries again, desperate for you to be next to him, but you’re already ripping into him from across the room. “What possessed you to do something so stupid.” 

Realization crossed his features, his eyebrows furrowing sadly. “I understand you’re upset, but-“

“Upset? Ominis, I’m fucking furious.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but you continue ranting, words spoken in quiet rage. “Don’t you ever take a hit like that for me again. I can’t- Ominis, I can’t handle this a second time.” 

Ominis exhales shakily, he can hear the agony in your voice, and he wants so badly to tell you what you want to hear, but he knows he can’t. He’d be lying to you, and that was something he wasn’t willing to do. “I’m sorry, my darling, I can’t…I can’t promise you that.” 

“Please, Ominis.”

Tears trickle down his face, as he shakes his head. Your pleading hurt him, he very rarely denied you anything, but he would deny you this. “My love, I can’t make that promise. I won’t. I refuse to live a second without you. I’ll throw my body in front of yours every single time. If someone dies between us, it will be me.” 

A violent sob wracks your body, knees buckling slightly, and Ominis snaps. He’d had enough of the distance you kept from him, resolving that if you wouldn’t come to him, he’d go to you. Throwing the blankets off, he gets up and strides over, uncaring of the pain in his side as the need to comfort you consumes him. 

His arms envelope you, crushing you against him, physically showing you he was still there, still with you. Your hands hold a death grip on the back of his shirt, burying yourself in his chest as you wept. “You didn’t even let me try to get help!” 

Ominis squeezes you to him, words watery as he whispers in your ear. “If I was to die, I wanted it to be in your arms, not on the cold ground alone.” 

Wailing loudly, your knees give out, losing the ability to hold your grief any longer. You sank to the floor, Ominis sinking with you, perfectly mirroring your position from when he’d been wounded. You stayed like that for a long time, neither of you noticing Anne and Sebastian standing briefly in the doorway, having come to visit Ominis. 

They watched you hold onto each other for dear life, wiping their own relieved tears. Anne grabbed her brother’s hand, squeezing once before they turned to leave, deciding to come back at a later time. 

Eventually, your tears stopped, and the two of you wound up cradling each other on the hospital bed. Ominis laid on his back, your ear pressed against his chest, right over his heart. The occasional sniffle escaped you, and every time, the arm around your waist would squeeze you and a pair of lips would press themselves firmly against your forehead. 

There was a long period of silence before either of you said anything, your throat raw from crying, but after a while you spoke, no real bite to your words. “I’m still angry with you.” 

Ominis let out an amused huff, kissing your hairline a few times before responding. “I know.” 

Closing your eyes, you drifted off, finally allowing your body to relax now that he was safe and you were back in his arms. 

—————-

Months later, you and Ominis attended one of his work parties, laughing and making polite conversation with his colleagues at the Ministry. You stood tucked under Ominis’s arm, squeezing his waist subtly, silently asking if it was time to leave. Ominis didn’t outwardly react, smiling pleasantly at whatever mundane story was being told, but his hand ran purposefully down your arm in agreement. 

He started to wrap up his conversation, and just as you were about to excuse yourselves, one of his coworkers glanced behind your shoulder, eyes going wide. “Oh! What a surprise! Mr. And Mrs. Gaunt, an honor to have you stop by. Master Marvolo as well! Always a pleasure to have you.” 

You felt Ominis stiffen beside you, arm tightening protectively as he reached for his wand. Turning to face them, you watch your estranged in-laws smile politely at the man in greeting, eyes nervously darting towards you. 

The man, having had one too many glasses of fire whisky, mistook their anxiety for unfamiliarity, proceeding to introduce you cheerily. “My apologies! I didn’t realize you had yet to meet your son’s new spouse. My daughter and her husband also eloped, it seems to be a common trend amongst couples these days.” 

Smiling kindly, his colleague spoke your name, also introducing you as the ‘Hero of Hogwarts’, singing your praises loud enough for everyone to hear. Mrs. Gaunt was the only one who could stand to look at you, her husband looking past you and Marvolo staring at your feet, leaning heavily on a cane. She smiled pleasantly even as her lips wobbled slightly, her eyes watching you hesitantly. “Hello dear, lovely to meet you at last.” 

A wide grin stretched across your face, bearing your teeth, a subtle threat only the Gaunts would understand. “Yes, wonderful to make your acquaintance. I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, but my husband and I were just leaving…enjoy your night.”

All three of them visibly flinch as you take a step forward, you reach down and take Ominis’s hand, intertwining your fingers as you pass them. You throw a glance over your shoulder to see all three of them watching you warily, you flash them a wicked smile in warning, enjoying their terror as the color drains from their faces. Turning back around dismissively, you and Ominis exit the building, apparating home once you’re outside. 

Unlocking the front door, you step over the threshold, only to be yanked back by the hand holding yours. You squeal in surprise as you stumble into Ominis’s chest, his free hand cradling the back of your head as he crashes his lips into yours. 

Ominis kisses you passionately, licking greedily at your bottom lip, demanding that you open up for him. You do, and he moans into your mouth as his tongue caresses yours gently. He takes a step forward, pushing you farther into the house so he can enter and kick the door shut. The hand holding yours releases you in favor of snaking around your waist to haul you closer. 

Giggling, you tear your lips away for a moment to tease him. “My, what’s gotten into you?” 

Chuckling lightly, he places another lingering kiss on your lips before replying. “I suppose witnessing you scare the shit out of my horrible family really does something for me.” 

Laughing in amusement, you let him kiss you a few more times. “My love, how could you possibly tell if they were scared or not?” 

He pulls back slightly, stopping only a breath away, his eyes hooded with lust as he speaks. “I could hear it. I don’t think my mother’s ever been so terrified in her life.” 

You open your mouth to comment, but his lips press themselves urgently against yours once more, his hands traveling down to palm your ass. “Enough about them. Right now, I would really like to take you to bed, and not come out until the morning.” 

“So impatient tonight, Mr. Gaunt.” 

“My love, If you don’t start walking up those stairs this instant, I’ll show you ‘impatient’.” 

“Oh, you promise?”

Ominis groans and grinds his lower body into you, head dropping to rest on your shoulder. 

“You’re going to send me to an early grave, you wicked creature.” 

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – Changes - Chapter 11

"Visages"

A/N – So, it's been forever. I've just been working on my actual novels, one of which has been sent off for publication so, finger's crossed and all that. Anyway, please enjoy some trauma on me.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“I don’t want to hear it (Y/N),” Rewind told you, having allowed you into his hab-suite for what he thought was just supposed to be two friends talking.

It felt almost wrong to see him without Chromedome, but after his stint trying to use mnemosurgery on Swerve, Chromedome had been banished from Rewind’s life and was being forced to stay with Tailgate and Cyclonus. Personally, you didn’t think staying with a couple would help him, but Tailgate was kind-hearted and Cyclonus was a good listener, so maybe it was for the best.

“I know, but I mean, Chromedome didn’t actually commit mnemosurgery, so that’s something, right?” You pandered, hoping that Rewind would forgive his partner and that they would be able to patch things up.

“That’s not the point. He intended to do it, and he would have if Rung hadn’t stopped him.”

“But-”

“No! It isn’t like Chromedome considered mnemosurgery and talked himself out of it. He had to be stopped. He can’t keep using other bots to justify his addiction. It isn’t fair. He can’t keep lying to me like this.”

“I get it, Rewind. I just think that maybe you can’t leave Chromedome in the lurch forever. He loves you so much and-”

“STOP IT!” Rewind shouted. “JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN’T FIX YOUR RELATIONSHIP DOESN’T MEAN YOU CAN MEDDLE IN MINE!”

You blinked rapidly, taken aback by the insult to your virtually non-existent marriage. Coolant sprung to your optics, though you tried hard not to cry.

“Y-yeah, okay. You’re right,” You said, getting up to leave.

Rewind lifted his arm, “(Y/N), wait. I didn’t mean that.”

You shook your head, “It’s fine. I’ll- I’ll see you later, Rewind.”

You hurried out of the room and ran away as fast as you could before anyone could see you openly weeping.

You were almost back to your room when you crashed into Getaway.

He reached out his arms to steady you, “Whoa, hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” You said hurriedly, wiping coolant away with your palm.

“You don’t look fine. Want to talk about it?”

Honestly, Getaway was the last bot you wanted to see. The two of you weren’t friends by any means of the word, and you had a rocky relationship with him considering how rude he had been to Swerve in the past. Yet, at that moment, when you didn’t know who to turn to, you were almost tempted to take him up on his offer.

Seeing your hesitation, Getaway held up his servos innocently, “Hey, it’s cool. I guess I just caught you at a bad time. You can go if you want, it just kind of looks like you need a shoulder-plate, you know?”

You didn’t deny the assumption.

“Yeah,” You replied meekly, “Today hasn’t been great.”

“Okay, see, that’s a start. Look, I know that I’m not like, your best friend, but maybe we can just hang out and give this talking thing a whirl?”

You hesitated a moment, thinking over your options, then slowly shook your head, “Sorry Getaway, I don’t really feel like chatting.”

“Okay, okay,” Getaway held out his arms to stop you from leaving. “Then how about we don’t chat? How about we just take it easy at “Visages?””

Although you didn’t particularly like “Visages,” seeing as going there felt like you were cheating on Swerve’s bar, you decided that it might be nice to get a drink and just relax for a while.

“Okay, yeah, just no high grade, okay? I’m still getting used to this body, and I really don’t want to get drunk.”

“Yep, no high grade, sounds like a plan,” Getaway beamed, falling in step beside you as the two of you made your way to the club.

Ordinarily, you would have preferred to be in a booth within any establishment. However, while out with Getaway, you were glad that he had chosen a central table where anyone passing by could see you; it made you feel like he wasn’t going to try anything with you like he had in the past. So far, although you were wary of him, he was on his way to earning your trust.

He stuck to his word in giving you regular energon, though it had a somewhat fruity taste; it wasn’t anything you could get a real buzz from, just the energon equivalent of a mocktail.

As you sipped it, you thought about Swerve and all the drinks that you and he had named together at his bar. Those days seemed so long gone now, even though you had named your most recent batch of cocktails with him only three months prior.

For a while, you sat in silence. Getaway bobbed his head to the music, and you sipped your drink. There was no pressure to do anything and nothing you felt that Getaway wanted from you. It seemed that there was a possibility you had misjudged him before, or maybe he really just wanted to change and be someone better. Either way, you were starting to feel grateful for his company.

Getaway laid his arms on the back of the armchair he was occupying, taking a casual glance around the room. This was good, if he could just keep his act up, you would finally be his. Initially, he had wanted you as a human; your small stature and ability to get into places that he couldn’t would have likely helped him in a myriad of ways. But you had to fall for that idiot bartender. It was a disgusting waste, especially since Swerve was so sickeningly loyal to this damned ship and its Captains that he couldn’t be manipulated.

Yet, after biding his time, Getaway had been presented with an immensely wonderful opportunity. By Cybertronian standards, it hadn’t taken long for Swerve to turn your relationship to slag, and then further sabotage it even when you forgave him for his misdeeds. Granted, you weren’t human anymore but your new body had been built by two of the biggest Cybertronian geniuses in the galaxy; who knew what kind of abilities Brainstorm had provided you with? Let alone what features and modifications Perceptor would have added. With time, Getaway was sure that he could turn you towards his cause; he just needed the right angle to play.

Getaway had been observing you from afar ever since you returned from the ship. One thing he knew for sure was that you were still completely infatuated with that good-for-nothing glitch, Swerve. Although he wanted nothing to do with the idiotic bartender, Getaway was sure that he could earn your allegiance through him. All it would take was him helping the two of you get back together, or pretending to anyway; then you would be putty in his hands. Now, if only you would let your guard slip and make the first move.

After waiting a few more kliks, Getaway was finally rewarded for his patience as you set your energon down to look at him.

“Hey,” You said softly, “Thank you for bringing me here tonight. I know I haven’t been the best company, but I think I needed this, to get out of my own head.”

“Hey, no problem, I get that things have been hard on you lately.”

“Yeah,” You exhaled and a hot puff of air vented through your systems.

“But, you’re coping right?” Getaway reached out a sympathetic hand on your knee, glad when you didn’t pull away.

“I don’t know whether coping is the right word, but I’m doing my best.”

Getaway nodded thoughtfully, withdrawing his servo to give the impression that he was doing what he could to make you comfortable.

“I’m glad to hear it. C’mon, I think it’s about time I got you back to your hab-suite.”

“Now?” You asked, surprised that he wasn’t trying to get more from you.

“Yeah, now. This place is gonna get busy soon. Best to get you out of here before the rush starts. I’m guessing you still don’t want to face everyone at once.”

You offered Getaway a tired smile, “Yeah, that’s true. Thank you.”

“No problem. So, do you mind if I walk you home, or would you prefer to go it alone?”

“Sure, you can walk me back. Some company might be nice.”

Getaway nodded and got up, offering you his servo. You allowed him to help you to your pedes and then walked back with him through the ship. The two of you didn’t speak much but he had expected that; his plan required baby steps if he was to get you on his side. Soon enough, you were back at your door and he wished you a good recharge. He offered you to call on him any time, and as you retreated inside your hab-suite, you felt that you would be sure to take him up on the offer.

Getaway wandered towards Swerve’s bar, which hadn’t been open since you and Swerve separated. He let himself in, taking in the sorry state of what to him was a dingy little hole in the wall, not worth the swill it served. Granted, he had been there as something of a regular, but that was only because it was a good place to keep tabs on the ship’s occupants and the general mood they were in.

“Swerve?” Getaway called the bartender’s name coolly.

Swerve came bustling from the storage room with a crate of glasses, a broken expression across his visor, “Bar’s closed.”

“I’m here about (Y/N).”

Swerve snapped to attention, suddenly very interested in what Getaway had to say. He dumped the crate onto the countertop and stared at Getaway. He didn’t say anything, not daring to assume that you wished to see him and that Getaway was here on your behalf.

“Right… How should I put this?” Getaway seemed to ask himself. He ran a digit across the pristine bar, then rubbed it against his thumb as if there was dust to inspect. “See, (Y/N) and I have been talking, and well, we’ve decided to give it a go.”

Swerve shook his helm, holding a servo up to his aching processor, “I’m sorry, give what a go?”

“Come on, Swerve, don’t make me spell it out. (Y/N)’s just not interested in you anymore. You made her wait too long and well, I was there and- You know how it is, right place, right time. I hate to say it but, and look, she wouldn’t say this to your face because she’s too nice, but she doesn’t want to see you again, like ever.”

“YOU’RE A LIAR!” Swerve roared, throwing himself at Getaway.

He managed to pin the taller bot for all of three seconds before Getaway overpowered him, holding his wrists against the floor with a vice-like grip. As much as Getaway wanted to hurt the pathetic little mini-bot, he refrained from doing so, acting instead as if he mildly cared about Swerve.

“I’m not lying, and I can prove it.”

Swerve stilled, no longer struggling beneath Getaway’s hold. Getaway made a reluctant show of releasing Swerve and then held up his servos defensively as he started playing an audio file aloud from your earlier time with him.

“How about we just take it easy at “Visages?”” Getaway’s recorded voice asked you.

“Okay, yeah. I’m used to this body so, high grade?” Your edited voice replied, wholly changing the context of your words.

“Yep, high grade, sounds like a plan.”

Swerve deflated – You had gone out drinking with Getaway? And you were at “Visage’s?” Surely, it wasn’t true, and even if it was, it meant nothing, and yet, Getaway pulled up another audio file for Swerve to hear.

“C’mon, I think it’s about time I got you back to your hab-suite,” He said hopefully, like a bot about to get lucky.

“Sure. Some company might be nice.”

You had let Getaway back into the hab-suite, after fuelling up on high-grade! Swerve felt sick. You were supposed to be with him. You loved him… Didn’t you?

“Get out of my bar,” Swerve whimpered, sitting despondently on the floor.

Getaway did as he was told, but at the door, he had the last word, “It had to be this way, Swerve. She loves me now.”

With that, he left, a satisfied smile on his face. Now, he would have time to work on you without worrying about the stupid little mini-bot interfering. Life was turning out to be good.

[keaalu]

WIP - ‘Kestrel Kestrel’

So apparently “WIP Wednesday” is a thing? Like I need any excuses to dump incomplete ficbits on the internet.

----

Still feeling sore and muzzy, with 55 lurking quietly next to her, monitoring her vital signs, she’d only been human again for thirty seven minutes but Kate was already on her third plate of sandwiches, crunching her way through Spacehawk’s entire stock of crispy snacks. 101 looked alarmed by how quickly his inventory was dropping but wasn’t hesitating at bringing more when she looked at him in a specific way.

“Growing a whole new skeleton really takes it out of you,” she said, accepting the offering when the zeroid trundled over pushing yet another packet of crisps towards her.

“That’s our last pack of those,” 101 informed her, trying but not quite able to keep all the reproach from his tone. “So if you need anything else you’ll need to pick something different. Like broccoli.”

“Sorry, hon.” She suspected it had probably been Hiro’s favourites she’d been happily munching her way through, if the zeroid’s manner was anything to go by. “I’ll send some more up on your next supply run.”

He chirped an acknowledgement and seemed mollified, for the moment.

“I guess it must have felt a bit like this when you got your body back after Zelda turned you into a cube, huh?” she wondered.

“Oh I don’t think my experience was anywhere near as bad as yours, ma’am,” he demurred. “Mine was more like… maybe just a very unflattering new set of clothes.”

Kate patted him on the head, anyway. “I bet it still sucked. And at least you weren’t a were-cube,” she joked, and winced.

“And it didn’t involve a trash compactor,” he agreed, and gave her fingers a bump. “Would you like a coffee? I just heard it finish brewing.”

“That would be amazing. Thank you.”

He squeaked another little nonverbal agreement, and rolled away to get it. (She wondered if she could get away with asking for more sandwiches when he came back.)

“Tea? Oh, yes please,” she heard Hiro say, and looked up to find the lieutenant in the doorway.

“I ate all your chips, so I think I’m in trouble with your little space husband,” Kate apologised, holding the open pack out to him. Even that small action made her shoulders ache. Perhaps she ought to forego more sandwiches in favour of sleeping for a few days.

Hiro smiled and took a single crisp, but otherwise waved her off. “I once told him I particularly liked these, so now he always buys far too many, then pretends they were on offer. Then we have to somehow store four cases of them.” He settled on the floor next to her, cross legged, and nibbled the snack. “I try not to eat them too quickly, because then he panics that we are running out and buys more.” A little sigh. “There are certain nuances to human behaviour that zeroids don’t quite get, yet, and striking a balance between foods we enjoy and sensible nutritional choices appears to be one of them.”

“Well, you have plenty of ‘sensible nutritional choices’ in the form of broccoli, apparently.”

“And why do you think we have plenty of that?” Hiro gave her an arch look, then relented and took another crisp.

“Yeah, I get it.” Kate chuckled, tiredly. “So do you have an update for me?”

“I do. Not much of one, yet, but we wanted to ensure you were kept in the loop.” He held out the tablet for her.

Kate stared at the confusing mosaic of… biopsy images? “What am I looking at?”

He tapped the first image and it enlarged to a graphical representation genetic data. “Initially, when you arrived and we took a skin sample?” At her nod, he went on; “We thought that Zelda must have done something structurally to alter your DNA, but when we analysed it, it was all still human. We could not explain it. How could you be human, but categorically not human, at the same time? So we did a visual scan of your blood sample, instead. And we found… this.” He touched the screen and brought up a new image.

It was some sort of microscopy of a blood film. Kate could recognise red blood cells easily. The irregular, blobby purplish masses were probably white blood cells.

She had no idea what the scattering of angular black flecks were, though.

She felt a set of cold fingers draw up the back of her neck. “The hell are those.”

“We are still working on our analysis, but they look like very small machines of some sort. They have proved hard to extract to get under the electron microscope. Kiljoy is still working on it.”

---

“The black dots.” She let out a breath in a very long exhale. “Can you remove them?”

Hiro’s silence was all she needed to know.

“We will remove them,” he hastily added. “I just don’t know how quickly we can do it, yet.”

“Can you block them?”

“I don’t know.”

“So what you mean is, I could turn back into a bird at literally any moment. Including at the worst possible time. Like… at the controls of an aircraft.”

He took her hand and squeezed her fingers, briefly. “I’m sorry, Kate.”

The two zeroids had both converged on her as well, leaning comfortingly against her.

“It’s okay, guys.” She forced a smile. “I know it’s not your fault. I just… oh, man. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”

[aarcanechaoss]

Family Matters

Masterlist

For anon ♡ - who should def write fic’s too … also you didn’t give me bubs name so I made one up.

A day for bonding?

No… scouting with the Armed Detective Agency. Some suspected ability user… whatever.

Ichiyo shoots Mori a glance- his response? A quick raise of his brow.

She can’t fucking go- she won’t and he knows it.

So she doesn’t.

~~*~~*~~*~~

Ranpo Edogawa is a brilliant man if he could say so himself.

Smart, amazing, praiseworthy really… so he couldn’t help himself when he commented on Higuchi’s absence. Not just that but how antsy she had been to not go- like she’d had some wonderous plan that couldn’t be delayed. He didn’t care… no but the small bag of sweets she’d just shoved into her pocket had piqued his interest.

And she was wearing casual clothes… interesting.

Their current scouting was boring him to no end- so why not scout something else.

“Hey look it’s Higuchi.” He said casually, pointing across the road as she walked into the nearby park.

Surprisingly its Akutagawa’s head that snaps that way first, granted with a frown etched on his features. Though that was followed by quickly by Tachihara and Dazai, the later looking particularly intrigued.

Deciding he’d had enough stalking the American man sat in a pub down the way Ranpo- without a word- crosses the street.

This would certainly be more interesting.

~~*~~

“Hello sweetheart.” Ichiyo knelt on the picnic blanket, arms spread wide as a small body collided with hers. Tufts of black hair loose and wild tickling her nose.

“Mum!” Her arms wrapped around Ichiyo’s neck tight. “Mum, let’s play!”

“You sure you don’t want to see what I bought first?”

“I sure do.” Her younger sister poked her tongue out. Ichiyo rolled her eyes, pulling a small bag of sweets from her pocket.

“Because you are a sweet treat I bought you a sweet treat.” The four year old’s face lit up like a lightbulb in excitement but she didn’t let go of her mother. “Want to play first?”

“Hmm.” She pursed her lips in thought. “Can I try one?”

“Yes Mai.” Ichiyo ruffled the girl’s hair as she opened the bag. Mai shoved in a hand, pulling out a Konpeitō. “Be careful.”

“Yes mum… it’s so sweet.” She giggled.

“Just like you.” Ichiyo’s sister snickered. “Hand me one too Chiyo.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes, passing her the bag too.

“Can we play now?” Mai pouted.

“What am I today?” Ichiyo grinned.

“Ummm.” Mai pressed a finger into her cheek as if thinking. She shot her mother and aunt a grin before pointing to Ichiyo. “A dragon!”

“A dragon? What about Auntie?”

“A knight and I’m the princess!”

~~*~~

It hadn’t taken long before all of their group bonding ended up across the road with Ranpo- who had found himself a shady spot far enough away that Higuchi hadn’t noticed a thing.

“Is that a kid?” Yosano had asked.

“Seems so.” Kunikida had hummed. “Perhaps she is the woman beside hers-”

“Nah that’s Big Sis’ little sister.” Tachihara said with a shrug. The group turned his way, questioning on their faces. “What? I live near a high school- I’ve seen Big Sis walk her there and asked her one time. I dunno her name though just that she’s Kyoka’s age.”

“Not to sound out of line.” Atsushi began.

“What?” Akutagawa grunted. “Spit it out.”

“I would if you would shut up.” Atsushi spat back. “Anyway… the girl looks like Higuchi.”

“So you are saying…” The Rashomon user’s mouth clicked shut at the elated giggle that echoed across the park. Higuchi was spinning the girl in the air.

“By my deduction.” Ranpo began. “That’s her daughter.”

“We can’t make assumptions Ranpo.” Kunikida berated.

“I don’t think just anyone would give kids hugs and kisses like that.” The Detective countered, pointing towards the group.

Ichiyo was pressing kisses to the girl’s cheeks, hugging her so tight it looked impossible to escape. The girl was laughing, happy to be held in Ichiyo’s arms… the group looked on fondly.

“I think we should leave now.” Hirotsu stated, turning on his heel. “Let her have family time.”

“I agree.” The ADA members chimed in, even Dazai was turning on his heel. The rest of the Black Lizard paused for a moment longer, noting how normal it was… a family.

Gin and Ryunosuke shared a look, a knowing look… family was precious no matter how it came about.

[fingertipsmp3]

Gotta love when an existential crisis motivates you to apply for two jobs

[sophierequests]

you're bleeding magic out // fingers crossed part one

Navigation┃Main Masterlist┃Requests

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x f!Reader

A/N: First non-requested Kaz Brekker fanfic?? Let's go! I'm still thankful for every request that I get, so keep them coming! Also, this will probably have a second part, if you guys want it. So please comment or send me a message if you would like a second part! And the title is (sadly) no Hamilton reference, so don't get your hopes up too high babes.

Part Two!

Summary: Reader gets hurt on a mission and tries to hide it from Kaz by trying to fix it by herself. Did it work? (Spoiler alert: Nope.)

Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Mention of blood, wounds, gunshots and a semi-graphic description of a panic attack, so if you're not good with that, I'd advise you to skip this one.

The pain erupting from your side made you almost keel over. You just couldn’t stop clutching the bleeding bullet wound. Jesper was hurriedly trailing behind you, the panic evident on his face.

When you finally reached the Slat, you shuddered at the thought of having to climb up the stairs on your own. Just as if he sensed your dismay, the slightly worried sharpshooter rushed to your side.

“Now this is what we’re not going to do, love. Shit. I should have been more careful.” he cursed while helping you get up to your room.

“It’s not your fault, Jes. I knew what you were trying to do, and I still didn't get out of the way. It’s not important anyway, I just want to get this fixed and then go to bed.” you panted, flinching as you looked at the blood on your hands.

“Well, you’re not going to be the one, that gets murdered by Kaz, once he finds out about this!” Jesper whispered anxiously.

“You won’t get killed either. Kaz won’t know about this.” you answered through gritted teeth after you finally reached the top of the stairs.

“He will find out about this, Y/N. At the very latest, when we call Nina to-”

“We will not be calling Nina for this.” you hissed, making Jesper roll his eyes in exasperation, “None of them will know about this. We have the blueprints. That’s the only thing that matters, and that should matter. Kaz wouldn’t even bat an eye, as long as we have the blueprints he asked for. And we do. So, let me take care of that by myself.” you interjected, now slightly agitated at the implication of his statement.

“If that’s what you want to believe, fine. But let’s get you to your room first, doll.”

You only had to go up a few more stairs from there on, which didn’t really help the pain, but you sucked it up to not give Jesper more wrinkles from worrying.

After he helped you sit down, he eyed you with obvious concern. He walked over to the small adjacent bathroom, returning with a brown, rather older looking, medical bag.

“Are you sure, that I shouldn’t get Ni-”

“No.”

Jesper frowned, sitting down next to you with a sigh. You knew that he only meant well, but you just couldn’t help mirroring his unease, which did not particularly help relieve your own anxiety.

“Jes, I know you’re concerned about me and I truly appreciate it. But this one is on me. I can take care of this myself.” you huffed, slowly opening the bag he had given you, “You could help me with one thing, though.”

He cocked one eyebrow in response to this.

“Please, do you mind bringing this to Kaz?” you looked at the blueprints sticking out of your own bag, that was sitting on the table, “He said, he wants to look them over today. And for reasons we’re both aware of, I can’t be the one to do it.”

“You want me to bring them to Kaz? If I wouldn’t like you as much as I do, I would say no. But you’re in luck, darling. Because I am just such a good-willed person.” Jesper commented, grabbing the prints and striding towards the door, “I’ll be back later with something to eat. Don’t die on me, while I’m gone, will you?”

“That would only work if you’re still alive, after speaking to Kaz. But I’ll try my best.”

With a playful grin, he went out of the door, and you were left on your own. Taking off your shirt felt like a whole other world of pain, but you had to look at the whole extent of the damage. Looking at the wound almost made you gag, but you had to tough it out, since Jesper definitely wouldn’t.

Meanwhile, Jesper was faced with a problem of his own: talking to Kaz.

Kaz was like a spider. Everywhere and nowhere at once, collecting every piece of information for his personal gain. He had his ways of talking to people, manipulating them into giving him every last bit of knowledge they had. The Zemeni boy did sometimes consider him a friend, but the Bastard of the Barrel seemed frightening nonetheless.

It took everything he had to knock on the wooden door, leading into his office, but after he did, he was only met with silence.

Maybe he wasn’t in his office anymore? Did he already go to bed?

Much to his dismay, these questions were answered by a stern voice coming from the inside.

“Come in.”

He turned the door handle and walked into the office slowly. Surprisingly, the man, sitting at the office desk, held his head in his hands and looked more than tired. When he caught sight of Jesper, he looked startled.

“The blueprints, boss.” Jesper tweeted, trying his best to keep his composure as he set them down right in front of Kaz.

“Do you have any idea, for how long I’ve been sitting here, waiting for the two of you to show up?” he scowled.

“Judging by your appearance, quite a while. You should really go to sleep at this point.” Jesper joked, regretting it immediately, after catching the stare he was given.

“What happened, Jesper? What took you so damn long? Unbelievable. I’ll never put you two on a mission together again.” Kaz threatened.

“Listen, Kaz, it wasn’t our fault-”

“Oh, so you didn’t waste time, making ill-fitting flirty jokes at Y/N?”

“No? What gave you that impression? I’d never do anything like that on a mission unless it’s required, of course! Now, if you would let me explain what happened, we could get this over way sooner and my presence won’t get on your nerves any longer, alright?” Jesper retorted exasperated, “So, everything went as planned, we went in, got the blueprints, and tried to get out again. But some of the Dime Lions caught us. We tried running, but they were a bit faster, so we had to improvise. We got out as fast as we could, but have you tried outrunning these fuckers? While trying to not die or lose what you rightfully stole? It was not as easy as we made it look.”

Kaz’s gaze shifted into one of unease, or even worry, which made it even harder for the sharpshooter to keep up the façade. He sighed, actively pondering what to say next.

“Are the two of you hurt? There’s no use for hurt Crows.” he commented, his previous stern expression creeping back to his features.

“No, we both are mostly fine. Some bruises here and there, the usual. Y/N took a hit on the head, so she has a bit of a headache now. That’s why she’s already asleep.” he stuttered.

Jesper knew that Kaz was not completely convinced, but there was no use in explaining any further.

“I’ll go to check on her again, but I also should go to bed now.”

“You sound…distressed, Jesper. Are you sure everything is alright?” Kaz asked, a mixture of suspicion and genuine concern laced his voice.

“Why don’t you just get those bloody blueprints yourself next time?” he snapped in response, not caring about the consequences anymore, “You could join Y/N the next time if you’re so worried about her not being capable to get things done on her own or the risk of me flirting with her.”

“I never said that I didn’t think of her as being capable enough. And if I were you, I would be careful talking to me like that.” Kaz jeered, obviously startled by these accusations.

“What should I be scared of? A boy that is scared of his own feelings?” Jesper replied, turning to leave the room, “Get it together, seriously. Good night, Kaz. It’s late, you said it yourself.”

With that, Jesper strode through the door, all the adrenaline leaving his body suddenly, knocking the wind out of him for a second. Kaz was left sitting at his desk, an uncomfortable look on his face.

The Zemeni boy did as he promised, getting something to eat for the both of you and checking in on you. You had managed to patch up as best as you possibly could. As you had expected, Jesper cringed at all the medical utensils and blood-stained fabrics that were lying on the wooden table next to you.

The two of you sat there talking for a while, not mentioning the aggravating encounter with Kaz, but your lids grew heavy and you decided that it was time to get some sleep. Jesper suggested that he would keep you company, but you declined, not wanting him to fuss over you as much as he did right now. He begrudgingly accepted, leaving you alone, so that you finally could get some rest.

At least that’s what you planned on doing.

At some point during the night, you were harshly woken up by three collected knocks coming from your door. You shot up in bed, only now noticing the cold sweat on your face. To be honest, you felt like shit and you were sure you had the looks to match it. The last thing you wanted to deal with was another person to be in your personal space right now.

You heard the person outside the door shift, knocking again, a bit louder this time.

“Yes? What do you want?” you groaned, leaning your head against the headboard of your bed.

The door opened and you heard the steady clicking of a cane on the wooden floorboards of your room.

Kaz. Truly the last person you needed today.

“I didn’t say come in.” you commented lightheartedly, moving your head to look at the man, that halted in the middle of the room.

He opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as he took a proper glance at you, he froze. In that moment you knew, that there was no chance to get out of telling him about what actually happened today.

“Saints,” he said, cursing in the name of something he didn't even believe in, “You look horrible.”

“Why thank you, Brekker, you look absolutely lovely too.” you whispered, your body beginning to feel heavy again.

Kaz hurried over to you, a way too familiar feeling of dread spreading in his stomach. He lit the lamp next to your bed, so he could see your face better, but it didn’t ease any of his worries.

“Do you know, how pale you are right now? Jesper told me you were fine! This is not what fine looks like, Y/N.” he stammered, not hiding his own concern anymore.

“Kaz, I’m f-”

“You’ve got to tell better lies if you want me to believe them. You should've come to me sooner. There's no use for hurt Crows.”

Much to your confusion, he took off one of his gloves, taking it into his still gloved hand. He bent down and, after a bit of hesitation, laid his hand on your forehead to check your temperature, removing it after a few seconds and putting his glove back on.

“Shit, you’re burning up. What happened, Y/N?” he was panicked now, searching for an answer in your tired eyes.

But you didn’t need to answer him. His eyes were faster than any word coming from your throat. He looked your torso up and done until his eyes stopped at the freshly forming bloodstain on your side.

“You’re bleeding.” he stated, trying, and failing to regain his posture, “I’m getting Nina, don’t move or I’ll-”

“I’ll kill you? Good luck with that.” you joked, pressing down on the wound.

Kaz left the room, limping towards Nina’s room as fast as he could. If he could kill Jesper, he would do it without hesitation right now. But the fear of having to watch her die overtook his mind.

During the time that it took Nina, followed by an anxious Kaz, to get back to your room, you were already passed out, causing Nina to panic.

“Kaz, get Jes. I’ll need some help here.”

“I’m not getting Jesper, it’s his fau-”

“I do not care, whose fault it is. You’re getting Jesper. Now.” the heartrender snapped, removing the bandages to reveal the freshly opened gunshot wound.

He nodded and left to get Jesper before he felt the need to gag. This was not happening. He was not letting her die.

As much as he felt the need to stay, to make sure Nina was doing everything in her powers to keep you alive, he couldn’t bear watching them work on you. The waters rose relentlessly again and he just had to leave, retreating back to the closed-off safety of his office.

There he pushed his body against the cold door, trying to regulate his breathing. He felt his throat closing, giving him the familiar feeling of being choked. The overwhelming feeling of dread was flowing over his whole body now. He was painfully aware of everything. The ache in his bad leg, the humid air, the glaring light penetrating his eyes and the certain feeling of losing someone.

Finally, his legs gave in and he sank to the floor, back still frantically pressed against the door. His breathing was ragged by this point and he felt the usual sense of dizziness set in.

He thought about the previous moments. The absolute instinct to feel her temperature. To touch her without his gloves. His protective shield. Why did he do this? Was this the reason for the panic he was in?

He knew that the answer was no. Jesper was right. He should’ve owned up to his feelings earlier. He should’ve done this himself. He should’ve known better. He should’ve known better. But it was too late now. He was completely and utterly helpless.

On the ground was where he stayed. He had no idea for how long. Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Time was not a concrete concept to him anymore.

The only thing slowly dragging him back to reality was the voice coming from the corridor.

“Kaz? Are you in there?” Nina’s voice rang in his ears.

She sounded worried. He couldn’t open the door. He didn’t want to open the door. He didn’t want to hear what he already knew.

“Kaz? You don’t have to open the door, I know you’re there.” another woman said.

Inej. If Inej was involved, that didn’t mean any good.

He heard one set of footsteps go down the stairs again, while he could sense that the other one remained.

Kaz stood up from his spot, his whole body aching from sitting in the same position. He slowly opened the door to reveal the tired-looking Suli girl.

“Saints, Kaz. I was actually getting worried about you.” she mumbled, walking past him into the office, “You’ve been in here for almost five hours.”

Well, that answered one of his questions, the other painfully burning in his throat.

She sighed, turning back to face him. He didn’t want to hear what she had to say next.

“She’s alright, Kaz. Not great, but also not dead. The wound got infected and she had a fever, but she’s doing better. She’s sleeping, but I think you should go talk to her once she’s awake. At least go down to see her.” Inej said, making his eyes go wide in shock.

Maybe all the saints he didn’t believe in wanted to give him another chance.

And he knew that he had to take this one.

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[hellfiremunsonn]

Small Time. Eddie Munson x Reader

Small Time

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary: Eddie noticing reader slightly regresses, completely unaware they do it. So Eddie does some research, testing to see if his theory is right.  (This fic has no smut. Younger audiences are able to read this without any explicit content. but I will still be marking and labeling my writing as 18+)

AN: I know this isn’t for everyone, but don’t come yelling at me for it if you don’t like it. Someone out there will get comfort out of this and that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do with my writing. 18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: fem!reader, slight age regression? Daddy kink but not the sexual side of it. I guess technically slight ddlc? I’m unsure. Very much fluff, this is pretty tame, let me know if I missed anything.

Word count: 1591

Eddie noticed it before you did. The subtle changes in your behaviour, the pitch of your voice, or even the way you clung to him differently, when crossing the road you'd reach for two of his fingers instead of interlocking yours with his, or how shy you got sometimes when ordering food at restaurants. He chalked a lot of it up to you just being anxious, but the more time went on he could spot the differences. He was unsure how to approach you about it, not wanting to cross any lines, especially if you didn't even know you were doing it. So he decided to test a few things out, gage your reaction and then go from there, even debating asking Robin about it, knowing she would have some sort of information on it, her mind being an endless library of knowledge.

So he learned about age regression, how some people do it as a trauma response, to help them in troubling times in their life, to go back mentally to a time where you wouldn't have to worry about such things. To have that comfort of being a child so blissfully unaware. Now he knew you didn't go into it as severely as others, but it was enough for him to pick up on. He would always baby you anyway, because you were just exactly that, his baby, so it truly wasn't much of a difference of how the two of you would normally interact, but he still decided to try out little things.

He noticed it the most when you would have a particularly annoying or hard day, you would come over and be a lot more huffy, pouty, with big doe eyes, reaching out to him with grabby hands to encourage a cuddle. So today when you called him on your break, telling him just how horrible, your day was, he decided to plan out just subtle things, make a list and see how you reacted.

An hour later you stumbled through the trailer door, pout already formed on your lips while you kicked off your shoes by the door bright and pink, a contrast to Eddies old black combat boots they were next to. Eddie stood in the kitchen leaning back against the counter, a mug of hot chocolate in his hand and an old paperback in the other. Looking up from the book he was reading to give you a smile. "Hey pretty girl, how was the rest of work?" He asked, setting both the mug and his book down.

You groaned, shuffling your feet towards him, burying your face into his chest while your hands slid around to his back, fisting the fabric of his shirt into them. "It sucked" You mumbled into him.

"I'm sorry love" he said stroking your hair, pulling it away from your neck to rub at your shoulders a little.

"S'okay, I'm here with you now, and it's the weekend" You said smiling up at him, chin digging into his sternum but he didn't complain. Especially when you were looking up at him with those pretty eyes, his knees could buckle with how much adoration you held in them for him.

"Wanna get cozy?" He asked, tucking some hair behind your ear, hands coming to cradle your face in them. You hummed, rubbing your cheek against his warm palm.

"Yes please" You said quietly, and Eddie could already see you slipping into that mindset, unbeknownst to you.

"Alright, c'mon then" he said taking your hand and leading you to his room. "Sit, I'll get you clothes"

You nodded, hopping over to sit on his bed, crossing your legs while you waited. Eddie rummaged around his dresser for some of your clothes, messily mixed in with his, and the only time it was easy to find something of yours was if it was pink. Finding a pair of purple pyjama pants with black cats all over them, he went to his closet for one of his sweaters, an oversized black hoodie you loved so much. You hummed happily when you saw him take it off the hanger, wiggling side to side where you sat.

"Arms up?" he asked turning to you, eyebrow raised.

You did so diligently, arms shooting up into the air. He smiled before coming over to you, leaning down to the bottom hem of your shirt, tucking it between his fingers as he lifted up and over your head, chucking it behind him and onto the floor with a swoosh- He'd tidy up later. You had whipped off your bra before Eddie had bunched up the neck of his sweater in his hands, leaning forward so he could slip it over your head, taking each of your hands and slipping them through the sleeves.

You tugged off your jeans, not at all gracefully but still thankful to get them off, stepping into your pyjama bottoms Eddie held out for you kissing your forehead once you were dressed. "You look very cute" He said honestly, tugging you to him by the waist. "And very soft" He said while squeezing your sides, a giggle escaping as you tucked yourself into his chest. "Wanna go cuddle?" He said taking your face into his hands, squishing your cheeks together and leaning your head back so he could see you.

You nodded eagerly, a smile attempting to spread across your face with your cheeks still squished. "Moo-vee?" You asked, your words slightly muffled. Eddie laughed releasing your cheeks, now a slight pink.

"Course, what you wanna watch?" He asked, taking your hand in his and leading you back out into the kitchen, tapping the counter top encouraging you to sit on it. Turning to face you he placed his hands on your hips, knowing you could easily hop up yourself, but still wanted to help, especially when you got small like this.

You watched as Eddie flitted around the kitchen, grabbing a pink mug he kept here just for you, and the other ingredients for hot chocolate, including those tiny multicoloured marshmallows. Your eyebrows raised in excitement, knowing that sweet beverage would warm your soul, and for a brief moment, it would solve all your problems. "Little foot?" You asked quietly reaching for the package of marshmallows and opening it, popping a couple into your mouth.

"The land before time?" Eddie said turning his head to you while placing a small pot of milk onto the stove and turning on the correct burner. "You always cry watching that one though" He said furrowing his brows.

"I know... But it's my comfort movie, I like ducky... And spike" you pouted, swinging your legs back and forth, the tips of your toes brushing against Eddies leg each time.

"But it makes you cry baby, 'n I don't like seeing my sweet girl so sad" He said mimicking your pout.

"What if I promise not to cry?" You inquired with a raise of your eyebrow.

"No crying huh?" Eddie said, measuring out the hot chocolate powder into a cup. "You gunna be good for daddy then and keep that promise?"

You furrowed your bows slightly, confused as to why Eddie was referring to himself as daddy in a none sexual situation, but it somehow felt right?

"I'll be so good" You said bringing your hands up to your mouth, a silent plea to try to convince him. He smiled softly, one of his hands coming up to cup your cheek, stealing a few marshmallows with his other hand.

"What if we watch Beetlejuice? It's October after all, we can get into the halloween spirit?" he suggested.

You tilted your head in thoughtful consideration. Watching him shuffle around the stove, pouring in the chocolate powder and stirring it with a wooden spoon. "I don't like the big sand snake though..."

"I'll protect you from the scary snake I promise, I'll cover your eyes and everything" He said reassuringly, tipping the silver pot sideways to pour out the hot chocolate into your mug and reaching for the marshmallows, coating the top of your mug with definitely too many. You reached for the mug but Eddie moved your hands away, coming back to place his on your hips so you'd slide off the counter. "Go sit, I'll bring it to you"

You hopped up onto the couch, crossing your legs and pulling the thick wool blanket that was next to you over your lap, while Eddie waited patiently for you to get comfy before handing the mug to you. You reached out to grab it, but he still didn't give it to you. Another pout forming on your lips.

"Two hands please, it's hot, you gotta be careful baby" he said sternly.

Reaching both hands out this time, the cuffs of his sweater covering half of your hands. He handed it to you making sure both of your hands were secure before letting it go "Good girl" he said with a smile. You took a grateful sip, sighing and leaning back into the couch with your eyes closed.

"Yummy?" Eddie asked coming to sit next to you, the movie already in the VHS machine.

"So yummy" you said with a lazy smile, eyes slightly glassy and Eddie new you had slipped into that small time mindset. You snuggled up into his side, his arm around your shoulder pulling you tightly against him. "Thanks daddy" You said softly, shy at whatever it was that you were feeling, and shy that Eddie had noticed.

"You're very welcome baby girl" He said with a kiss to the top of your head before pressing play.

[ann-writes-universes]

Archangel (Azriel x Reader) Pt. 7

A/N: Hope everyone had a good weekend <3 If I missed anyone on the taglist please message me!

Warnings: Slight Mentions of Possible Self harm

W/C: 2.2k

Elain was devastated to say the least. Utterly broken at the idea that she would no longer have someone to spend the quiet nights with. Now she was left with the overly loud males, and Nesta who never seemed to quit fussing over her.

Feyre hugged you cautiously, but said nothing, figuring you wouldn’t want to hear it anyway. She was right.

“The cabin is like the house; it stocks itself with anything you might need so don’t worry about starving or being cold. Like Feyre said, no one can get in without us knowing so you will be safe there for as long as you want to stay.” Rhysand was speaking to you from behind Feyre who’s waist he held in both hands.

You nodded at his words and picked anxiously at your fingernails. No one else had come to your departure, an observation you were not upset by. Having to speak to that many people again would have sent you spiraling, and you were sure that wouldn’t end well for the gold gilded picture frames that lined the entryway.

“Are you ready then?” Azriel quipped from the door. Your only response was to head outside. Rhysand raised his eyebrows at your retreating figure and chuckled wearily into the crown of Feyre’s head.

“Good luck with that one, Brother. Long flight ahead.” The only reply Rhysand received was a one fingered salute from Azriel as he followed you out the door.

-

To say flying with Azriel was terrifying would be a lie. This flight was much different than the one the Attor unwillingly took you on. It was smooth, and magic kept the wind and cold at bay. He cradled you against his chest bridal style, making sure his hands were at a respectful distance from anything you wouldn’t want touched. The snowcapped mountains beneath glistened in the afternoon sun and you could see the glittering surface of the Sidra far below.

“Pretty isn’t it?”

You hummed in agreement and tightened your hold on his leathers as Azriel took a particularly swift drop, effectively eliciting a squeal from you. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips before it disappeared quickly.

“Why do you have wings and none of the other high fae do?”

Azriel’s brow quirked though his attention stayed focused on the open sky before you.

“Because Im not a high-fae. Im Illyrian.”

Your brows knitted and Azriel merely sighed and dug deep for an explanation that would make sense to you, who, up until last year didn’t know more than two types of fae (high and lesser) existed.

“We’re like the high fae, no pointy ears or strange habits though.” You nodded at this and took note of his rounded ears. You remembered that yours no longer looked like that and swallowed thickly.

Distantly, a cabin came into a view. A plume of smoke left its chimney and the front windows glowed with the promise of a warm hearth.

-

“So all I do is will it to whoever I want?”

Azriel nodded and watched as you stared at the piece of paper. When it disappeared into thin air and appeared in his hand across the room you smiled widely and clapped your hands.

“This way you can contact us whenever you need to.” He smiled in return and shadows enveloped the paper, effectively making it disappear. Your shoulders sagged in relief and you relaxed into the chair you sat in. A content sigh escaped your lungs and your ran your hands over your legs as you looked around the main living area of the cabin.

Feyre had added her touches everywhere, and with the fire going and the sun setting outside it made a cozy little scene. Azriel leaned against the wall nearest the fireplace, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he watched you, brows quirked.

“I can’t thank you enough for showing me how to do that. Makes me feel like I will be a little less alone out here until…” You swallowed hard and stared at the floor, “Until I can get myself together.”

The spymaster nodded and pushed away from the wall. He made his way to the front door, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you once more before leaving.

“Take as much time as you need (y/n). We’ll be here when you’re ready.”

You stared at him, and without warning a tear slid down your cheek. Nodding quickly, you wiped it away with the sleeve of your sweater and chuckled quietly.

“Thank you again, Azriel.”

“Anytime Beddor.”

-

Six days.

It took you six days to fall into a routine of your own.

Each day went precisely the same. You woke up before the sun, made breakfast to eat on the porch and watch the sun crest over the mountain peaks, drew a bath, got dressed, and then roamed aimlessly around the living room. Each day went precisely the same. There was however some variation during the night. When the sun fell to its lowest point and the stars began to shine you would stand outside of the cabin, bundled in blankets and void of shoes to stare at the sky in awe. Without fail, you would sob each time. The marvel of its beauty ignited a pain in your chest that gnawed and tore until your chest was caving in and breathing was suddenly the most difficult thing you could force your body to do.

How?

How had you lived in darkness for a year? With nothing. Nothing but rot, and torture, and darkness void of starlight and powdery snow that froze your feet but ignited a pain that was so real so much more tangible than the emotions you were experiencing.

You hadn’t.

You hadn’t lived, you had survived for a year.

On the seventh night, you sat. Sat in that freezing powder and dug your hands into it. That familiar pain of freezing enveloped your legs and fingers and you relished in it. For a year the pain you had experienced had not been of your choosing, this…this was yours. This feeling was your doing. Not the doing of Amarantha, or Hybern, or anyone. Just you.

The stars summersaulted and twinkled above you and the tears fell once more, though this time you laughed. A deep belly laugh, so powerful that you threw your body into the snow and began to flail your arms around wildly.

You flailed until the tears were replaced with only laughter. When you stood to admire your work, you thought about how similar your silhouette in the snow looked to those of Cassian and Azriel’s winged figures.

A year.

You hadn’t lived in a year.

This new body, this new world, it was yours.

-

When the sun rose into her rightful place in the sky, you were seated on the porch. A pen and paper sat on the ground by your legs and a steaming cup of tea was perched between your frozen hands.

In the yard, five snowmen now sat.

One was rather large, his partner smaller, two medium sized, and one just two snowballs tall. You had spent the night perfecting them. The tallest donned a dark jacket you had found in a closet inside (Rhysands?), His partner in a fur shawl that was sprinkled with snowflakes. The first medium sized snowman wore a crown of purple flowers that had somehow withstood the harsh winter. The second was baren though, the tiniest wore a smile made of pebbles and had

Sticks for arms that were splayed wide as though it wished for a hug.

You picked up the pen and paper.

Quickly, oh so quickly, you scribbled the words before you got too scared to send them and willed that little piece of paper out of existence.

When it returned you were back inside, feet kicked up on the back of the couch, splayed out with your head resting on the plush rug.

Plans solidified, you smiled lazily and watched as the embers glowed in the fireplace. Tonight, you would try and cook something. You had never tried to cook anything other than simple meals for yourself. Maybe it was time you picked up a hobby you wanted to enjoy. Not one someone else chose for you. One of your own.

-

The cabin smelled like burnt food. The kitchen was a mess, and you were running about with the sleeves of your cream-colored sweater rolled up to your elbows. Your hair was plastered to your face and flour coated your hands and forearms.

Juggling pots and pans alike you huffed in frustration. How had the cooks at your estate managed to do this three times a day?

A knock sounded at the door.

“Shit.” You muttered, dropping a pan in the sink, its blackened contents splashing onto you, effectively ruining your sweater. With a grumble you dusted your hands off on your jeans and made your way to the door.

“Well, you look like you have been having fun.” Feyre smiled. Behind her, Rhysand chuckled lightly, clearly observing the damage you had done in his kitchen only moments before. You smiled nervously and moved out of the doorway.

“Well, I can’t say a renovation on the cabin was due, but it might be now…” Rhysand smiled, a hand Clasped at the back of his neck.

“Sorry about that.” You replied, motioning for them to sit at the dinning table. They sat and Feyre looked around, a smile donned as she roved her eyes over her own history on the walls, now joined by flour that had seemingly exploded.

“I was going to try and make pasta but uhm… Well, I hope you aren’t starving.”

“We’ll survive.” Feyre replied, her eyes finding your own. They softened as Rhysand found his place beside her at the table, his hands clasped in his lap.

You didn’t sit immediately, you stood, watching them. How easily they relaxed in one another’s company. They were puzzle pieces, perfect for one another in every way. Like your mom and dad had been. Like you should have been with some well to do human boy, handpicked by your father.

They let you observe them, let you handpick the words you wanted, and simmer in that blissful silence, albeit awkward. It took longer than you thought it would to find the right thing to say.

“I wanted to thank you both for your hospitality, and I wanted to apologize for my outburst last week. I was, am, scared. I am so scared of everything going on and I have felt trapped in my own body for the past month and- and I just…” You were ringing your hands together and staring out the window at that little snowman with outstretched arms.

Feyre shifted in her seat and looked out the window. The moon was illuminating their frosty bodies and she sucked in a breath when she saw them.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, everything you said at dinner that night was true.” Rhysand began, leaning forward to capture your attention. His expression was void, entirely serious as he spoke, “We should talk about what happened. Take responsibility.”

“What happened to me is not your fault…” You interjected quickly. And it hadn’t been. They did not force Amarantha to torture you or force you into that cauldron.

“No but you are in part our responsibility now. We should have been there for you more, helped you transition into this life instead of just throwing you out to the wolves.” Feyre spoke, staring at her hands as she thought of what to say next. When her eyes found yours, they were glossy with tears.

You let your hands fall on the back of the chair before you, ran your fingers over the grain of the wood and dug your nails into it. You nodded at her statement; it was all you could do.

“I want to understand what I am now that I know I cant change it, Feyre. I- I want to do something with my life now that I know it’ll never end naturally.” And gods, was that something you hadn’t stopped thinking of this week. You would never experience growing old, never be mourned by children and grandkids when old age finally took you in your sleep. No. No, when fae died it was gruesome and unplanned. They never got old, or weak, or sick and tired and frail. When they died it was because they were unlucky.

You contemplated that reality and realized slowly that you had nothing but time.

“Im 19 years old and I’ve already died and come back, isn’t that fucked?” You chuckled. Rhysand smiled sadly and looked away from you. Your lips thinned when neither of them laughed and you moved to sit across from them finally.

“I want someone to help me figure out what happened in the townhouse the other day when I… well when I did whatever it was I did.” Feyre nodded quickly, reaching out her hand for you to grab. You took it willingly and sighed, gazing once more at those snowmen outside.

Jacket.

Shawl.

Flowers.

Smile.

“We can send Amren to the cabin tomorrow. She’s a bit severe but would have the most answers.” Rhysand replied. His voice was distant, those snowmen looked so cold. ‘How Silly to think that, they’re made of snow’ you thought.

Jacket.

Shawl.

Flowers.

Smile.

“When we figure it out I know what I want to do.” You whispered. Feyres brows creased and she muttered a quiet “yes?”. Gods they were made of snow and you were worried about them being cold?

Jacket.

Shawl.

Flowers.

Smile.

“I want to kill Hybern.”

---

TAGLIST:

@wanderer-by-heart @fussel9913

@marigold-morelli. @eatsleepreadance

@esposadomd

@blitz-fall

@a-little-disguised

@sevikas-whore

@judig92

@@we-were-beautiful

@willowkirk

@ariaaira

@paasrin

[suna-reversed]

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader 

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie,  or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness] 

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same. 

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin. 

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher, 

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself, 

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him” 

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about. 

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out. 

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string. 

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes. 

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’ 

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened. 

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse 

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face. 

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something, 

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt. 

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance. 

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing? 

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis. 

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting. 

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was  a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?” 

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

 - “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”- 

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far. 

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

[sluttyten]

mark + 24 + 39 + 181? you're amazing, thank you so much!!

mark + “are my fingers not enough for you?” + receiving a massage that quickly becomes more + you being their best friend’s younger sibling

The last thing you expected when you came home from work for family dinner with your two brothers and your parents was to find that your older brother Doyoung had brought one of his groupmates home with him.

Mark Lee was stretched out on the sofa, lying on his belly, and your mother was standing over him, petting his head and offering him some tea.

"What's wrong with you?" You asked as you walked by him.

"Back hurts," he mumbles.

Doyoung comes out of the kitchen. "He's sore from practice, and I'd already invited him to come over before we decided we were just going to a restaurant instead of Mom cooking. He wouldn't listen to me when I told him to just go home and rest."

You crouch down beside Mark's head so you can look him in the eye. "You should've gone home. Or to see your parents if you don't feel good."

"Yeah, yeah," Mark lifts his head and grimaces. "I wanted to see your pretty face. Thought it might make me feel better."

"Stop flirting. It's gross." Doyoung disappears back into the kitchen. Your mother just smiles and follows after him.

You're close with Mark, so you sit there with him for a few moments to talk, and when Doyoung comes back over a few minutes later, he informs you that the decision has been made on where to go eat family dinner with Mark.

"Ah, dude," Mark groans, and he turns over onto his back. "I want to go, but I actually don't think I can. I'll just grab a taxi home, get in bed, pop some painkillers. Sitting through dinner sounds like hell right now. Even if it's with your family."

Doyoung looks like he's about to back out of dinner too, like he's going to say he can go home with Mark, but you know your parents were really looking forward to having dinner with him tonight.

"I'll watch him, Doyoung. Go enjoy dinner with our parents and Gongmyung." You stand up. "I was planning on staying in anyway. I just had dinner with you the other day, which was more than enough of your brotherly advice, and I have dinner with them all the time. Go. I'll get Mark home safely."

So several minutes later, your family has left for dinner, Mark is still lying on the sofa, and you're watching videos on your phone while you sit on the floor with your back against the sofa. Mark's looking over your shoulder, laughing along with you at the funny videos your scroll through.

"I probably should head home," Mark says. "And I can take myself home. I'm not drunk or sick, just achy." He attempts to push himself upright, and he once more grimaces in pain, and sinks back down.

"Mark, if you feel that bad, maybe I should take you to a doctor or something." You put your phone down and pull up to sit on the edge of the sofa, lay your hand on his forehead.

He shakes his head. "I'm just really sore, tense. My back just feels tight." He rolls his shoulders, and groans, "Fuck."

"Mark. Let me help you. Roll onto your stomach." You flutter your hands over him, and Mark stares at you for a long second before complying.

"What are you going to do to me?" Mark asks, getting comfortable. "Well, hey!" He exclaims when you suddenly straddle his ass.

You touch his back, running a gentle hand up his back. "I'm gonna give you a massage. You said you were tense and tight and sore. Let me help you."

Now, if anyone saw you like this--Mark on his stomach, you straddling his ass with your hands all over his back--surely they would have lots of questions. Doyoung would definitely be rolling his eyes and scoffing and telling you two to knock it off.

But Mark, when you start massaging up near his shoulders where you can feel the tense knots where his shoulders meet his neck, he relaxes. Slowly at first, but you can definitely feel him melting like butter under your touch. And your hands move lower, and you hit a certain spot and Mark moans.

You pause. Mark goes perfectly still beneath you.

"Did you just--"

Mark jerks, moving as if to get you off of him, as if to move out from beneath you. "Forget it. I can get myself home like we told Doyoung." He bucks his hips, dislodging you, and he manages just enough that he's able to flip himself over onto his back.

You sink back down, hands on his chest to keep him there. "It was working, wasn't it? Massaging your back was making you feel better?"

Mark stares up at you. "I mean, yeah, like, it was making me feel better, but..." He looks away, avoiding your gaze as his ears burn pink and a blush rises on his cheeks too.

It's cute to see him blushing. And you understand why. You can feel his reason beneath you; his dick is getting harder, and when you shift your hips subtly on top of him, Mark sucks in a breath and bites his lip. He looks back up at you.

"Is it working?" You ask again, and now when you put your hands on him, sliding your fingertips under his shirt and pushing them up his chest to start massaging, Mark rolls his hips up against you in a way so slight that it could have just been him trying to move.

You've always been close with Mark every time that Doyoung brought him around. You can't deny that you've dreamt about him several times, a few of those times being dirty dreams. It was just something about his hands, the way that he moved during choreography, the way that he'd touch you lightly when he stepped around you or was helping you with something.

You like Mark. And right now, it definitely seems like it might not be an entirely one-sided thing.

He watches you with dark eyes, and when your thumbs brush over his nipples, Mark hisses, his cock twitches, and he lifts his hips up in search of contact.

"Are my fingers not enough for you?" You ask, drumming your fingers on his chest as you lightly grind down on him. "You need more?"

Mark licks his lips, gazing at you, thinking, letting his gaze drop from your face down your body to your hips gyrating in slow circles on his lap. He nods. "Yeah," he clears his throat, "Yeah, I need more."

"Good." You smile, lowering yourself over him.

Mark smiles when you pull your hands out from under his shirt to touch his arms, and he lifts his arms under your guiding touch, crossing them over his head, held there lightly by your hand.

Mark lifts his head to meet your kiss.

You like kissing Mark. It's fun and good. It's a little bit dirty too because he's your brother's best friend and you're making out and dry humping him on the sofa like you're both horny teenagers.

Mark moans, rocking his hips up. "Fuck me," he groans.

"Is that an actual request?" You ask, resting a hand on his chest, and pressing him down into the sofa. "Want me to ride you?"

"I do want that, do you?" Mark frees one of his hands to reach down and slip it under your shirt.

"Yeah." You nod. "I do want that too." You slip off his lap, and Mark's mouth falls open as if to ask what the hell you're doing then, but as soon as he sees you shimmying your pants down to your ankles, Mark shuts his mouth and reaches down to open his pants.

When you straddle him again, Mark's hand returns to your hip, sliding higher up your stomach and pushing your shirt with it. He touches your chest, grinding his erection up against you.

You reach down, pull your panties aside, and you curl your hand around Mark's cock, stroking him until he's moaning for you again. You like seeing him so eager, pink in the face and bucking into your touch.

You sigh as you rub him against your entrance, as he bucks up, pressing into you.

He massages your chest, looking into your eyes as he thrusts up again, and this time he enters you smoothly, and you sink down on him, taking Mark in deeply.

"You can't cum in me, okay?" You tell him. "That's my one rule."

Mark nods. "Got it. I'll let you know when I'm close." He reaches up and drags you down into a kiss.

Riding Mark and kissing Mark on the sofa all because you were trying to give him a massage; you can't believe it's happening. You've dreamt of things like this before, fantastic scenarios your horny brain cooked up, particularly one about riding him in a hot tub.

But right now it's reality. You're kissing Mark and bouncing on his cock, hearing him moaning as you massage his cock. He keeps touching your chest, pushing your shirt higher and higher until your chest is exposed to the air, nipples peaking at the cool touch.

"Mark," you moan, gripping his shoulder and sitting up to roll your hips slowly down on him, feeling his length filling you for longer than a moment. "Feel so good."

"Yeah, you do." He leans up as much as he's able to kiss at your neck, and then he kisses lower, his tongue flicks over a nipple. It doesn't feel like much to you, but it's clearly doing something for him to be touching you like this. Mark moans, rocking up to get you to move on his cock again.

Your eyes flutter shut as he starts to take control from beneath you, fucking up into you as he pleases, his breath fanning against your chest.

"Fuck," he moans. "Ah, shit, you feel so good. I'm gonna cum, shit."

You like listening to him swear like this, the way that you can hear him losing control over himself, his senses to overwhelmed with the pleasure of his rising orgasm.

Mark swears again, trying to pull you back down on him when you quickly move off. You sink your body down between his knees, resting a relaxing hand to massage his thigh as you lower your head and do your best to swallow his cock down to the base.

A guttural, beautiful moan leaves Mark, his fingers knotting in your hair as you gag around him. You let him move you with his hands in your hair and his hips rabbiting up to fuck your throat.

His groan as he cums is like music to your ears, half-drowned out by your pulse racing and the wet sounds of your attempts to not choke on him. Mark cums over the back of your tongue and you suck him through his orgasm, feeling him spill stripes of cum that you swallow rather than choke on it, sucking until he goes soft and makes quiet whines and pulls at your hair.

When you sit up and wipe your hand across your mouth and chin, Mark tries to pull you up toward his mouth as if to return the favor of oral sex, but you shake your head.

"What about you, though?" Mark asks, "I want to make you cum too. It's not a good time unless we're both happy at the end. Come here. At least let me kiss you again."

So you lift yourself up, crawling over him so you're basically lying on his chest, and you kiss him again. Slowly, savory kisses and his wandering touches that soon have you grinding down on him, feeling too empty and with the burning desire to cum, and Mark fulfills that desire, filling you with his fingers to grind down on.

You break the kiss when you cum, dropping your forehead to Mark's shoulder as you pant and sigh while his fingers push you over the edge, sending you freefalling through an orgasm. Your heart races, and you wonder if he can feel the pounding through your chest echoing into his own.

Mark draws his fingers out, wiping them through the sticky mess to lube them up just a little extra, and starts fingering you again until your fingers and toes are curling, and you're trying to hide your moans.

"You're so cute," Mark tells you, kissing your hair when the second orgasm rocks through you.

You answer him with a soft grunt, reaching down to push his hand away from between your legs. You feel good. Buzzy and light, temporarily able to ignore the fact that you just came twice with the best friend of your brother on your sofa. You just want to soak in the feeling, but you know you can't stay like this. It's been a while, and you don't know how long your family will be out. You can't still be like this when they get back, and Mark probably shouldn't be here either.

You kiss Mark's neck, just a parting kind of kiss, before you sit up.

"How's your back feel now?" You tease, running a hand through your hair and tugging your shirt back down over your panties.

"Feel like you should help me home." Mark rubs your thigh, tugging on the hem of your shirt. "Be a good friend, maybe tuck me into bed."

You laugh and lean in to kiss him again. "I can do that."

Requests are now closed! Thank you to everyone who sent these in, I’m just finishing the last drabble requests in my inbox!

[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. 

[writing-good-vibes]

been an angel all year

ahh i was going to wait until christmas eve to post this, but i got to excited once i finished it !! with great pleasure, i gift this christmas fic to @pharmacykeys !! ahh i hope you enjoy and have a very happy holiday season 💖😊🎄 fem!reader x bo sinclair on christmas eve. and of course some domestic sinclairs content because i cant resist. this is a long one warning for smut.

You could have sworn that time moved differently in Ambrose. No sooner had the leaves started turning brown and drifting sadly from the trees, was the frost settling in every morning. And then, before you knew it, it was nearly Christmas and you’d done nothing to prepare.

It had taken you literally going into the next town over with Bo on a supply run for you to even realise the festive season had arrived. Strings of fair lights lined shopfronts and Christmas music was playing in every goddamn store you walked into.

“Wait,” you said, looking around somewhat bewildered, “Wait, what’s the date?”

Bo shrugs, “How should I know?” But he routes through the pocket of his work trousers and pulls out a quarter for the newspaper rack. He pulls out the paper and looks for the date, “December 21st.”

“The 21st?” you repeat, aghast. No way was it nearly Christmas. How could it be nearly Christmas and you hadn’t even noticed? “We haven’t even decorated the house or bought – bought any food or,” you miss a beat in realisation, “We don’t have any presents!”

Bo was looking less than impressed as he tried to keep walking up the sidewalk, but you kept stopping in horror each time you realised something else you hadn’t done.

“Look, darlin’, we don’t really ‘do’ Christmas, or any of that crap,” he insists, grabbing your elbow to get you to keep walking. He had a to-do-list today and he didn’t want to be away from town any longer than he had to be.

“Aw, Bo, c’mon! We have to do something,” you complain, but follow him anyway, “I love Christmas! Please, can’t we do something?”

Bo grumbles, not wanting to have this argument right now. Christmas hadn’t been particularly awful for him as a kid, him and his brothers actually did pretty well, but there was always a tension simmering just below the festive façade his family put on that unnerved him. There was too much possibility of something going wrong for his liking.

“Look,” you persist, “I’ll sort it all, you don’t even have to lift a finger. If you let me sort it now while you’re getting the regular supplies then I’ll be finished before we have to start heading home. Deal?”

You look up at him hopefully. You see something cross his face, but you’re not sure what it is.

He hesitates before answering. “Fine.” He goes for his wallet, taking out one of two twenty-dollar bills that is in there.

“Thank you!” you squeal, kissing him on the cheek and practically hopping around as he hands you the money.

“We have a tree and decorations and shit back home, I’ll get ‘em outta the basement if you really want ‘em, so don't go wastin’ that money. Meet me back at the truck at 4. You come even 1 minute late and there’ll be hell to pay, you hear?”

“Message received and understood,” you nodded firmly, before disappearing back down the sidewalk.

Bo watches you for as long as it takes for you to be absorbed by the crowd. He’s really started to regret letting you go off alone.

*

The ride home is probably more fun for you than it is for Bo. You chatter relentlessly about all your favourite things about the festive season and what you used to do as a kid and how the house will look so nice all decorated. Bo, to his credit, listens to you, nodding at appropriate times, but mostly focussing on the road ahead.

*

Despite your excitement, your festive plans are put even further on hold by an unexpected arrival. It took a few days for the atmosphere in town to calm down enough and for Vincent to finish up his new project before you could herd everyone into one place and force them to start enjoying themselves. By then it was December 24th. Christmas Eve.

“Okay,” you start, pacing around the family room in front of the twins who sit sullenly on the couch. You try to give your voice as much authority as possible because that was the only way you got taken seriously around here, “Here’s what’s happening: you two are getting the tree and decorations from the basement, Lester said he’ll be here in a half with the turkey and I will create some –,” you search for the right word, “atmosphere, in here.”

“Alright, Lil’ Miss Bossy,” Bo says. It sounds like he’s complaining but the way he gets up anyway lets you know that he doesn’t mind too much. If he was honest, he’d say he was even a little bit excited. Sure, he didn’t trust for the whole thing not to devolve into a fight (like it so often did when he was a kid), but for now he tried to trick himself. Trick himself into think that maybe, with you in charge, Christmas wouldn’t be too bad.

He tilts his head at his twin and Vincent gets up to follow him down to the tunnels.

You settle down on the recently vacated couch, picking up the stack of cassette tapes you’d located at the back of the video cupboard. Best Christmas Song Compilation. Festive Party Songs. Christmas Hits. So many to choose from, you thought, giggling with excitement.

As you took out one of the tapes and inserted it into the old tape player on the side table, you glanced at your phone, checking to make sure Lester hadn’t text saying a disaster had befallen him.

(The conversation with Lester regarding the turkey had gone something like this:

“Hey, we’re going to have Christmas dinner this year, you’ll come right?”

“Christmas? I dunno, what did Bo say?”

“He’s fine with it, he agreed! It was practically his idea. [Lord forgive you for a little white lie]. So, you’ll come, won’t you, Les?”

“Sure,” you hear the smile break across his face, “Sure, sounds good!”

“Oh, just one thing though,” you add, sweetly, before he hangs up.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think you could get a turkey from somewhere?” Then, quickly adding, “Preferably not one that’s been hit by a 16-wheeler.”

That gets a laugh out of him; a short, surprised one, like a dog bark. “Sure, I think I know a guy that knows a guy who has a turkey farm.”

You don't question this. “Thanks, you can bring it round on Christmas Eve? And stay the night, if you like.”

“I’ll see you there.”)

Comfortable in the knowledge that Lester had hopefully snagged a turkey from somewhere, you relaxed again, humming along to the first Christmas song that started playing.

Looking around, you realised something was missing. Whistling lowly, you strained to try and hear Jonesy’s feet pattering. She must have gone down to the basement with Vincent, hopefully she wasn’t getting in the way.

It took a while (you supposed if the boys never really ‘did’ Christmas, like Bo had said, then the tree and decorations must be pretty deeply buried amongst the rest of the junk in the tunnels) but eventually you heard a commotion and you wandered down the hall and towards the study.

Before you even opened the door you could hear Bo yelling and cursing under his breath. When you walking in, you tried to stifle your laugh but it was no use. Bo was trying to drag the tree up through the hatch whilst, you could only guess, Vincent was trying to push it up from beneath.

Bo turns to you and snaps, “And what’s so goddamn funny?”

You press your lips together tightly but it doesn’t stop your shoulder shaking with laughter. “I’m not laughing, see, not laughing,” you manage.

“Like hell you’re not,” Bo grumbles, but lets it go in favour of returning to his attempts to heave the tree up through the trap door. “Vincent you’re not even trying,” he complains, even though you all know Vincent is far stronger than Bo likes to pretend.

The movement from below stops and you hear a rustling amongst the branches. Your laughter is kickstarted when you see Vincent’s calloused hand squeeze up through the trap door and flip Bo off.

After a long while of pushing and shoving and heaving, and a lot of complaining (though when did the twins do anything together and not complain about it every spare second), the tree, along with the few boxes of decoration, was out of the tunnel and situated in the family room, positioned under your expert direction.

“Now, this is the fun part!” you clap happily, beginning to rifle through the boxes. You pull out strings of fairy-lights and garlands of tinsel. Plastic baubles and evergreen wreaths. At the very bottom of one of the boxes, you find a smaller box, an old cookie tin. It took some prying but you managed to open it, finding inside a nest of smaller, much more intricate wax baubles.

You look over at Vincent, “Vince,” you hold up one of the ornaments, a turtle dove, “Did you make these?”

Both of them look over at you from where they’re sat on the floor. There’s something childish about the way they’re slowly pawing at the decorations as you take them out of the box. They silently bicker over holding one decoration or another, things passed between them as they start to remember the baubles that they’d been most attached too as children.

Vincent shakes his head, hesitating for a moment before signing, “Momma made those, back when we were babies.”

You nodded in response, “You could make more, there’ll be enough room for new ones, I think.”

He shrugs, “Maybe.”

You let it go.

There’s a rapid knocking at the door and you start in surprise. It must be Lester; you leave the twins to poke through the decorations some more and run for the door.

“Lester!” you greet him, pulling him into a hug while dodging the huge turkey he held by his side.

“Happy Christmas,” he smiles, “Well, almost.”

“Happy Christmas!” you gesture towards the turkey, “Thanks for bringing this!”

“No problem, got it cheap off a guy.” You don't question this.

“Come on in, the twins are in a mood with each other after a tree debacle, go and cheer them up, would you?”

“Annoy them more is more like it,” he shrugs, though he’s still smiling.

You do your best hostess impression and usher him in. He diverts into the kitchen to leave the turkey in the fridge, you’d cleared space for it especially but just looking at it you knew it was going to be a tight squeeze. At least you’d be taking it out later to start cooking.

When you go back to the family room, Bo and Vincent have made a start on decorating the tree. Vincent was trying to be careful, while Bo was half-heartedly draping some tinsel around the crooked green branches.

With the music still playing quietly in the background, someone must have turned it down while you were gone, you sway up behind Bo. “You’re doing a good job,” you say, trying to be encouraging.

He’d never admit it, but he liked the praise you gave him. Contrary to that, he muttered, “I ain’t a kid, I don’t need complimentin’ on every lil’ thing.”

“I know,” you shrug, arms circling his waist as you press your nose into the fleece he was wearing. His grandad fleece as you so often teased him.

Maybe you were just imagining it, but a soft air seemed to be spreading through the house, lulling you all into a content silence.

This was momentarily broken when Lester reappeared from the kitchen, a can of beer in his hand. “Merry Christmas!”

“It’s not Christmas yet,” Bo scolds, but the harsh tone of his voice is put on, and all of you know it. Bo just doesn’t like to admit when he’s having a good time.

Lester laughs him off anyway and starts root through the musty card board boxes, looking for anything that hadn’t already been claimed by the twins.

Things were going well. Surprisingly well, you might even say.

Bo seems relaxed enough in your arms, his own fingers working to string up one tinsel garland after another that you take a chance and let go of him, going over to the tape deck to turn the volume back up. The next song that comes on is terrible, a cheesy old Christmas song that played nonstop during every festive period of your childhood. It was also your favourite Christmas song.

You try not to squeal out loud, holding back only so much as to not start singing, but you sway happily to the tune, your hips swinging as you look around for the decorations that you’d put aside for yourself. Assured that everyone seemed content to get on with their own decorating, you hung your first baubles on the Sinclair Christmas tree.

*

It takes a few hours, all in all, to finish up. Between singing along with the Christmas music you were in full control of (you’re attempts to hold back going out of the window half way through your favourite song) and taking breaks to force Bo to dance with you, much to the amusements of his brothers, you managed to decorate the tree pretty well, and spruce up the rest of the family room into something festive enough for your liking. Standing back to admire your handy work, you clap happily.

“Great job, boys,” you jokingly praise them. A silly gesture, but they can’t help but feel just a little bit proud about actually doing something nice together for once, without it dissolving into bickering.

Bo has already left for the kitchen, coming back with an armful of beers. He passes them around before settling down on the couch. He takes the middle seat, with you on his left and Vince on his right. Lester, cracks his beer open, sitting down cross-legged on the floor with his back against the couch. He was the youngest, after all, and had long since resigned himself to the floor when all other seats were taken. He doesn’t mind anyway, he tells you, the first time you had noticed him taking a seat on the floor.

With all your decorating done, you sink contently into Bo’s side. He’s warm and solid and safe and you wonder how you ever felt at home without him. Without any of them.

Bo flicks the TV on and searches the channels until he settles on something. Something he is certain enough wont start an argument.

As the time passes, you see Vincent start to fall asleep at the other end of the couch, his head dropping to his chest now and then before he jolts awake again. You can tell that Bo has noticed too, his eyes darting over to Vincent every time he jolts.

Eventually Bo must start feeling for his twin and he nudges him with a soft elbow. “Vince, go to bed would you? You’re just gonna keep fallin’ asleep on me.”

Vincent looks up blearily, glaring at both at Bo and at you, who leant forward to see past Bo.

“I’m not even tired,” he insisted, though his hands were slow and he still made to get up, uncurling the leg he had tucked beneath him.

“Sure you ain’t,” Lester piped up, but he wasn’t in any position to talk. Even if he hadn’t fallen asleep yet, he was close to it. You could only imagine what time he’d been up that morning, working his last shift before getting Christmas day off.

Vincent stood and shook his can of beer to double check that it was empty before heading off to the kitchen on his way upstairs. He turned to sleepily sign, “Night.”

Lester doesn’t reply, he’s fallen asleep, even after his teasing.

“G’night,” you and Bo reply.

Then just signing, Bo adds briefly, “I love you.”

Vincent nods, repeating the gesture before going upstairs.

Lester leaves not too long after, stumbling just slightly when he stands up. You hold back a giggle. Bo doesn’t, laughing even as his arm shoots out to catch Lester if he really did fall. He pulls his arm back just as quickly when he knows Lester has righted himself.

*

For a while, you and Bo sit in silence, his arm around your shoulder, thumb rubbing circles on the flesh of your arm.

Slowly, like you don’t want to startle him, your hand drifts across his chest, fingers fiddling with the zipper on his fleece.

“You getting ideas?” he asks, his large hand, the one not squeezing at you, comes up to cover yours, detaching you from his zipper to lace his fingers through yours.

“Might be,” you smirk, you pull your knee up higher, draping it over Bo’s lap so you can lean into him more fully. You’re feeling restless. The wait on Christmas Eve, on the cusp of Christmas day was always excruciating. Much to your delight, when you glanced at the carriage clock on the mantlepiece, you saw it had just hit midnight. Midnight. Christmas day.

Your hand still twined with Bo’s calloused one, you gestured at the time. “Happy Christmas, Bo.”

His smirk mellowed into a more genuine smile, a soft one like he only gave in the early mornings or late nights. “Merry Christmas, angel.”

“Do you want your present now?” you ask coyly. Bo knows exactly what the look on your face means and he hates being teased.

“If it is what I think it is, then definitely,” the arm around your shoulders pulls back until his hand is brushing you’re the back of your neck. His grip tightens only slightly and he pulls you in for a kiss.

He starts slow, because everything around him feels slow. Your soft hand in his and your warm body pressing into him. He doesn’t know how he got things so good. Its all coming up roses for Bo Sinclair, you’re your hot lips on his and you’re practically climbing into his lap.

His hands follow your movements, falling to your hips as he slouches down in his seat, gripping you tightly as if you might be going somewhere.

Soon enough, you don’t want it so slow anymore, your hands leave his chest you fumble with the hem of your sweater.

Sure, he thought some lovin’ was his Christmas present, but every present needed a ribbon on top.

At first he doesn’t notice, so insistent he is to return his lips to yours, but when he feels up your waist, over your tits, he pulls back.

Beneath his hands, you’re covered in red lace.

His for-once soft features twisted beautifully into a smirk. He stretched his fingers out over your tits, both thumbs over your nipples as they hardened from the touch. Moving further down, he tugged at the waistband of your pjamas, snapping the elastic against your skin. You yelp; you would have been annoyed, scolded him even, if you weren't so insistent of him seeing what was underneath.

He pulled your pjamas down as far as he could with you still in his lap. Enough to see the red lace dip down between your legs.

“Lemme see you, darlin’” he patted your thighs, pushing his hips up to make you stand. Quickly you did as he wanted, stripping down to just the red bodysuit you had bought when you were last in town. Twenty dollars could go a long way when you needed it to. You point your toes, stretching up and posing for him. You almost get the giggles at how entranced he is with you, following the

“Oh angel, aren’t you just a perfect lil’ present…” he coos, reaching for your hand to pull you back to him, making you straddle his lap once more. “And all mine.” His lips dance over yours before dropping lower, teeth and tongue tracing your neck before latching onto skin, sucking. He was going to leave a hickey; you just knew it.

At that, you let out a whimper, he always knew exactly what to say – exactly what to do – to get you going.

“All yours,” you return, fingers gripping his fleece as you pulled him into another kiss. Hot and needy when you’d once been slow and savouring.

Before you can even think about it, he’s rolling you over, your back against the worn couch cushions and his weight pressing between your legs.

Keening into him, you moan again, his thigh firm as you try to grind into him.

He chuckles lowly, letting you writhe for a moment before sitting up, leaving you cold while he pulls his fleece over his head. Making yourself useful, you think, your hands go to his waistband, undoing the fly of his jeans and he shucks them off, as quick as he can without standing up.

He drops back down over you, fingers slipping beneath the lace to press against you. Your hips stutter and he slides through your wetness.

You don’t need to hold back, everyone else in the house is asleep, but you try to anyway. You kiss across his chest to give your mouth something else to do. Kisses turn into bites, which turn into your soothing tongue lapping at the bruises you leave behind.

“Bo, please,” you plead, “D-Don't you want your present?” You hope the question will provoke him enough to get down to it, to finally give you what you want.

He just chuckles again, “Is this my present, or yours?”

“Yours.” His thumb works your clit and you can barely give your answer before your breath catches in your throat.

“That’s what I thought.” But he removes his hand, leaving you empty, as he pulls down his underwear and lines up against you.

You can stop the sigh of relief that leaves you as he pushes in, sliding in like you were made for him, before you whimper, feeling the stretch as he lets you settle around him. Whilst he waits for you, his hands, long fingers and rough palms, drifts to your neck. A pressure, just slight, against your skin. Your breath hitches, whether from the feeling of his cock inside you or his hand on your throat, you can't tell anymore.

His hips twitch every time you clench around him, twitching until he builds up a rhythm. The thrusts start shallow and slow, building and building until he’s ponding you into the couch, his hand tightening around your neck, your legs tighter around his waist.

You never want this to end, Bo’s warm panting in your ear, his hands on you. Hands that can hurt but never do.

You don’t realise you're over the edge until your already there. It feels like falling and his hand release your throat as you gasp for air, hips shaking with want even though you’ve already got it. Already got everything you might ever want. You’ve got Bo.

He shudders when he comes, a low groan in your ear and suddenly, everything is still. He rests against your chest, palming the soft flesh absentmindedly.

“I think I won present giving this year, don't you?” you mumbled, combing a hand through his sweat-damp hair.

He shrugs, but you can see the smile tug at his lip, “Well, I was the one givin’ really, wasn’t I?”

You lean down enough to press a kiss to his temple, your thighs tightening around him, in an embrace this time.

You’d have to go up to bed soon, but for now you watch as the fairy lights twinkle on the tree and the house settles for the night with a happy family inside.

[aemonds-sapphire]

Take a Seat — Hawks x Reader

You tell Hawks you can’t stand him; he tells you to take a seat.

Warnings: NSFW. Face riding. Oral sex. Feather play. Masturbation. Exhibitionism.

Word count: 1.7k

“Hawks!”

Your screech reverberated through the walls of his bedroom.

The pro hero reckoned it wouldn’t take much longer before your angry voice was heard yet again.

“KEIGO!”

There it was.

A wave of satisfaction ran along his entire body and all the way through to his wings, ruffling the feathers in the process.

“I am going to kill you!” you bellowed in frustration from inside the bathroom. “I am going to be late!”

Hawks dreaded having to part ways with you on his day off. He rarely managed to get enough free time as it was, and now he’d have to watch you go to work, postponing his need to shower you with attention and love.

But Hawks’ playful antics always found a way to surface whenever the occasion called for it.

So he decided to steal your clothes and bath towel while you were taking a hurried shower.

It proved to be enough to kindle your anger and frustration, which would only work in his favor in the end.

As soon as your burst into the bedroom, dripping wet and ready to pounce him, Hawks felt a rush of blood flooding downwards with a subtle tingling sensation.

“What did you do with my clothes?” you growled, taking large steps in his direction. “I’m gonna be late for work!”

Hawks shrugged, thankful that his every growing erection was neatly hidden away from you under the bed cover.

He watched in sheer delight as you grabbed one pillow and tossed it at him, which he promptly deflected with one of his feathers.

“You are so annoying!” you sighed in exasperation.

A teasing smile curled his lips. Getting under your skin was one of his favorite pastimes. It got you all riled up with this pent-up tension that he’d so gladly fuck out of you.

But then something else crossed his mind.

Oh… you were going to flip at this.

But he was feeling particularly daring and willing to push you a little more than usual.

“I’m feeling feverish….” he started, making use of his top-level actor skills to twist his features into a pout. “And there’s this pain….”

And just like clockwork, the visible traces of anger on your face faded into a worried look.

You sat naked on his edge of the bed, placing the back of your hand on his forehead to check his temperature.

“Where does it hurt?”

Hawks lifted the comforter, revealing his hard cock to you. “Here.”

Just as he had anticipated, you immediately scowled at how shameless he was.

“I was seriously worried! You damn bird!”

And just as you stood up and were about to smack him, he took the opportunity to grab both your wrists and had you swing on top of him at lightning speed until you were sitting on his bare torso.

You tried to jerk free from his grasp. “Hawks! I’m gonna be late!”

He honestly couldn’t care less. Having you fully naked and on top of him only fueled his desire for you.

“I’ll fly you there,” he said with a devious smile as he ruffled his wings along the mattress like a haughty peacock. “C’mon…”

Once again, you yanked both arms in an attempt to break free, but all in vain. He was far too strong, and he justwasn’t going to let go of you just yet.

“Ugh! I can’t stand you!” you huffed in annoyance.

What a blatant lie.

All that forced outrage had his cock twitch in anticipation. How he adored fucking you into submission, peeling off all those layers that you so vehemently insisted on keeping on just to give him a hard time.

He loved your brattiness.

“Sit on my face.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

Hawks wanted to let go of his hold on you have his hands cup your breasts, but he remained still just in case.

“Let me eat you out,” he insisted, rubbing his thumbs along the pulse points in your wrists.

You faltered briefly when you clenched your thighs around him.

“You’re so…”

“Charming.”

You shook your head. “No.”

Hawks let go of you, knowing fully well he had you trapped.

“Handsome?”

“Annoying!”

He flashed his trademark grin. “Annoyingly handsome? I know!”

With one hand, he smacked your ass lightly, but you didn’t budge.

“I just took a shower… and I don’t want to be late for work…”

Hawks was a patient man, but not this patient. “Then stop wasting time and ride my face.”

You hesitated at first, but caved in eventually. He slid down his pillow so that he could be the perfect seat for your pussy. Carefully, you lifted yourself from him before finally settling directly above his face.

He nodded eagerly, nearly letting out a groan at the mouthwatering sight of your pussy in close proximity with his hungry mouth.

A sigh if relieved rumbled across his chest the moment you were fully sitting on him, and he instinctively brought both hands to grip your thighs. The delicious moan that escaped your lips was incentive enough for him, and without much effort he parted his lips and delved his tongue deep inside your warm pussy.

“Oh…”

You were so fucking adorable. Still surprised that he could deliver all that pleasure with just a few stroked of his skillful muscle? After all this time of having you all to himself?

Your folds encased the corners of his mouth, as if trying to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

And he didn’t plan to.

In fact, he planned on spicing things up.

He knew far too well that this, however, would prove to be not only insanely pleasurable for you but also for him.

A single crimson feather went up in the air and settled right between your legs.

An intense shiver ran down his spine as he was able to capture the pulse from your throbbing clit.

See, Hawks’ feathers came in extremely handy in these situations, because it granted him the ability to sense vibrations around them. So, your puffy clit’s thudding was immediately felt along his entire body. All the way to his cock, causing his hips to shoot up reflexively.

“K-Keigo! Not… not the—“

Your words faded and morphed into a pleasurable moan as soon as the tiny feather began drawing small circles along your clit.

Hawks was still able to watch you gripping the headboard for support, before shutting his eyes as overwhelming bliss filled him. His cock throbbed with each heartbeart, the skin at the base pulling as he hardened even more.

He kept tongue-fucking you, drinking in your juices and your moans. Your wetness was now spreading across his chin, and he brought one of his hands to free his cock from the heavy fabric of the comforter, allowing it to spring free. The dire need to fuck you was ever-growing, but he wanted you to cum on his face this time.

His feather was kept tightly pressed against you, and such stimulation caused your hips to buck and jerk, forcing his other hand to increase his grip on you to keep you in place.

“Oh… oh… fuck—fuck—fuck!”

Hawks had had years to perfect his quirk and he was fully able to bend his feathers to his will using nothing but his mind to control them.

You were done for.

And so was he.

He wrapped his fingers around his leaking cock, yearning for nothing more than relief. It was becoming unbearable to feel your heartbeat invade his mind and travel down his body in rhythmic waves of pleasure.

A high-pitched moan fell from your lips. “Keigo! Please… it’s… it’s…” too much. Yes, it was.

The obscene slurping sounds coming from him were enough to have his hips jerk once again as he fucked his hand desperately.

He was too damn close.

He was fully aware that using one of his feathers drastically hindered his endurance. There was only so much he could withstand while having a hot girl riding his face.

Soon enough, he felt your thighs begin to quiver and he had the feather lap at your clit more avidly while keeping his tongue sliding in and out of your soaked pussy.

With a few more jerks from your hips, you were catapulted into your orgasm, spasming violently into his face while raking your fingers through his hair before gripping a few strands forcefully.

“Good… good boy!” you groaned in ecstasy as a gush of your wetness flooded his tongue.

Not long after, he felt your legs spasm uncontrollably. And he didn’t just feel this because they were tightening around his head; he felt your every contraction and twitch thanks to his feather still lodged between your swollen folds.

And that was what immediately pushed him over the edge. The overwhelming pleasure took over him completely, and he reached the point of no return. Hot spurts of cum shot from his tip with each spasm of his own body; the muscles in his thighs and lower abdomen tightened along with his balls. His wings stretched on either side of him and he felt a stack of feathers shoot out in both directions and carving themselves into the furniture and walls.

A few strands of hot liquid coat his fingers, but he didn’t care. His own heartbeat pounded insanely loud inside his ears and he stopped breathing for a moment as a gutural growl ripped through his throat.

You slid off to the side, allowing his animalistic groans to echo around the both of you.

Hawks took pride in having enviable stamina, but a powerful orgasm was still enough to have him panting and feeling lightheaded. Your juices were spread across his chin and lips and jaw as a few drops ran down his neck.

“I still hate you…” you struggled to say in between pants.

He licked the excess liquid from his lips, locking eyes with your hazy ones. “Want me to give you another orgasm?”

“I’m gonna be late!” you protested, sliding out of bed and nearly tripping as your legs wobbled from having your leg muscles strained.

Hawks couldn’t help but to laugh as your struggled to keep your balance.

“C’mon. I’ll fly you there. I doubt you’ll be able to walk, anyways.”

He was thankful to his fast reflexes as a feather prevented yet another pillow from reaching his face.

-

Masterlist

-

@dabiboy (since you wanted to be tagged 🥺)

[crownandwriter]

In which he notices your...frustration

Pairings: Kazuha, Diluc x gn!reader

Warnings: suggestive themes/dialogue (nothing actually happens, though), flirting, fluff/comfort??if you squint, not proofread because im impatient

Author Note: A little idea I had, but I left the smut off for now lol. If these are well-liked I’ll do other characters

Part 2 (Xiao, Chongyun)

Intro

You couldn’t say where such an intense need had come from, or if something specific had caused it, but it’s presence was unyielding. Worse, it’s been one busy-bee-thing after the other today--a task here, too many people there, your help needed there…. You hadn’t had chance enough to take care of the problem yourself, let alone seek out your partner and ask him to sweep you away for much-needed relief.

Little did you know, he’d already taken note of your predicament. How the need flushed your cheeks and the discomfort made you seem ever-so-slightly...frustrated. And, well, how could he not offer to ease your burdens?

Kazuha

Kazuha came strolling back over the hill with the water satchels in record time, and laid them out neatly near Aether as he assembled the fire pit for cooking today’s lunch. Before you could offer to get the soup pot ready, Kazuha gingerly took your wrist and tugged. The look he leveled you with was sweeter than usual...doting almost.

“There’s something by the water I want to show you,” he said. “Traveler, we’ll be back shortly.”

Aether waved you off good-naturedly, responding something about the other still fetching ingredients anyway,, and Kazuha laced your fingers together as he led you back towards the river. As you approached, you scanned the area for what he may have discovered. It wasn’t uncommon for Kazuha to lead you off in private like this to share in a particularly beautiful scene and a few moments of respite. Though, if you were being honest, you doubted your ability to enjoy it right now….

As you tip-toed to the water’s edge, however, his hand gently guided you further up the embankment. There was a gorgeous waterfall too, and you found yourself wondering if a cold dip would help this burning urge. Kazuha looked between you and the cascading water for a few rich moments, and then cleaned closer so you could hear his soft voice over the rush of water.

“You’ll never guess what I’ve found,” he said. It was hard to structure a guess when his breath on your ear sent a shockwave down the pulse of your neck. You were sure he noticed the thick swallow that came after, too.

He chuckled, and then his free hand came up to guide a large palm leaf growing from the cliffside into the water. The torrent split open, neat like pulling open a curtain, and revealed a cozy little cave beyond the cool mist.

“I rarely find anything beyond waterfalls,” Kazuha says and he guides you under the opening. “Storybooks could certainly make one think they’d be more common. No treasure in here, though--”

You flicker a smile at him for the sentiment, and take in the space. There’s moss-covered rocks and a scattered few glowing lamp grass that seem to have been recently plucked. Before you can ponder too much on their presence, Kazuha steps in behind you and his lips find your ear once more.

“--yet.” You whirl, and catch his autumnal eyes burning right into yours, temptingly close, but half-lidded and gentle. His fingers dance over your hips in ritual that’s long become casual, skirting the edges of your clothing and waiting for any ounce of refusal. “I believe you’ve been on the precipice of finding it for a while now…. May I be so bold as to offer you my assistance in reaching it?”

“K-Kazuha, I don’t think we have time,” you felt the need to whisper--but surely the whitenoise of rushing water would cover even the loudest yelling…. Oh. “The others will be waiting for us.”

Kazuha shakes his head slowly, never breaking gazes with you, even as he slowly backs you into the rock wall and begins to slide down your body. “Not to worry; we have a little time, and that’s all I need. For now.”

“I’ll be sure to take care of you more thoroughly next time we’re alone. But for now, please allow me to ease your troubles just a little.”

Diluc

Angel’s Share was close to closing, but you couldn’t say you had survived the night just yet. A scarce few regulars remained, mostly drunk, either awaiting their escorts home or sipping on water to sober up enough to make it alone. They all knew the closing routine by now, so Diluc stepped into the back room to take inventory without worry. And you were back with him to help speed things along too.

Although, surprisingly, it was actually going slower with your aid.

“Archons-- damn it, sorry Diluc, I’ve lost count again.” He wasn’t upset with you, but that was the third time. You’d been helping him with these sorts of tasks for so long now, the sudden difficulty with it concerned him. Now, he was a very observant man, and your reddened cheeks, lack of focus, the way you couldn’t meet his eyes in some moments.... Diluc had a theory as to what was going on, but felt guilty in lingering on an assumption so personal. He tried, instead, to observe you for signs of injury or fatigue, but his unwavering attention instead seemed to fluster you more.

“Is everything alright?” There, he finally asked. He did keep his voice down, though, lest the remaining patrons hear the conversation through the splinter-sized cracks in the bar door.

Your face dipped darker red immediately. You pointedly kept your eyes on the wine racks.

“Y-yes, of course! It’s just...been a long day. I’m quite ready to go home.” There’s a brief pause, and then you whirl to look at him. “Oh! Not that, I don’t like helping out here! I-I just, ah…”

“...Just?”

“I just...have some things to do at home,” you mutter.

Diluc knew that sentence was one large punctuation to end the topic; you were embarrassed, though he couldn’t tell for certain if there was discomfort mingled in with it. While you scrambled to finish counting the dandelion wine, Diluc leaned his hips back on a stack of crates, stretching his legs languid and crossing his ankles. He watched you even more intently now, digging with his eyes for the reaction to his next question:

“Is it something I can help you with?”

Your breath hitches at the inquiry. It takes much more courage than it should to flicker your gaze back over at your shoulder at him. You know--they say fire breathes. And it’s true. Diluc is there, flickering heat over in the corner of the dim room, eyes crackling embers, just waiting to burn the whole room down with you...or is that just wishful thinking?

“Come here,” he speaks again. He’s more assured in your wants now, and his pupils are blown wider. Your legs wobble over to him before your embarrassment gets the better of you. He slides the glove easily off of one had by a pinched finger, and then takes your chin gently between his bare fingers, leveling your eyes with his so hotly you think you might combust. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, quieter. “Do you need my help?”

Your hands grapple his shirt in desperate response, but fall limp and weak against his chest. Squirming in your place, you only just manage to nod. Diluc hums, and gently pulls you flush against him.

“I don’t love being so unceremonious with you,” he says while leaning in. “But I’ll worry about making it up to you later. For now, just remember to keep your voice down.”

“If you can’t walk to the Winery after this...it can’t be helped, I’ll just carry you. Though, it doesn’t bode well for you when we get back.”

[planetsano]

everyone finds out you two are dating.

SYNOPSIS: Class 1A find out you're in a relationship with some of your favorite MHA boys.

TAGS: established relationships, secretly dating, social media, making out, date night, sitting on kirishima's lap, fluff, slice of life.

CHARACTERS: bakugou katsuki, eijirou kirishima, todoroki shoto, kaminari denki, izuku midoriya

— bakugou

Everyone finds out you two are dating when he accidentally posts a video of you captioned, "this idiot 🧡", on his snapchat story.

It was a Saturday night and you both decided that it would be nice to spend the night in enjoying each other's company. Obviously you told your friends that you would be busy studying but in reality you were actually with each other.

You were on his bed wearing one of his ridiculously oversized hoodies. Admittedly, he thought you looked cute. You had sweater paws like c'mon. He wanted to save the memory.

(Contrast to popular belief, Bakugou is capable of being a cute boyfriend sometimes. He's just rough around the edges, ya'know?)

When you looked up from your switch you saw your boyfriend recording you with a smirk on his face.

"Stop, I look ugly." You whined and hid your face behind your handheld game.

"No, you don't. Shut up." He scoffed.

"Make me." You stuck your tongue out and flipped him off.

"What do you want anyway, stinky?" You asked resuming your animal crossing gameplay.

"Show me your shitty island." He said.

"Really?!" You looked up at him again with your face lit up in excitement.

"Sike, no." He deadpanned behind the camera.

"I hate you!" You whined & jumped on him starting a play fight. The video was cut with a shaky camera & couple of your giggles.

After about maybe a minute of roughhousing, Bakugou's phone started to blow up with texts, snaps, and facetime calls.

"Someone's popular." You said while looking up at him. He pinned you down easily since he had a physical strength advantage over you.

You were curious as to why his phone was blowing up so suddenly but you were too entertained by squeezing his surprisingly squishy cheeks.

While you did that, Bakugou grabbed his phone. The facial recognition automatically unlocking it for him.

"The fuck?" Was all he said scrolling through all the notifications. He was confused.

One text in particular out of 64 unread stood out to him. It was from "Mina 👽", and it said:

"No but really, did you mean to post (Name) on your story? 💀🤚🏾 I knew you guys were going to date at some point!!"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

— midoriya

This man Midoriya is terrible at secrets. So it didn't surprise you when he accidentally spilled the tea about your relationship.

It all started when Uraraka, Momo, Iida and Todoroki asked him if he wanted to join them for dinner that night. Apparently they were treating themselves to something fancy.

"I'm sorry guys. I can't. I have a date with (Name) tonight." Midoriya doesn't even give what he said a second thought.

Everyone literally stops. "Date? 🤨"

"Yeah. I have a date... with...." Realization hits. "You know what? I've really gotta go guys! See ya!" This boy tries to run but they stop him so fast.

They have so many questions. The main being when exactly did you guys become an official thing and why didn't they know about it.

Midoriya tells them that he's not sure if he feels comfortable without you being there to answer all the questions they have since they weren't even supposed to know to begin with.

They're all understanding and don't push him any further. He's already embarrassed enough. The most important thing is that they're happy for the both of you.

Now the only thing on Midoriya's mind was how to tell you he told half the friend group you two are dating over dinner.

— todoroki

You both really thought no one would catch you guys sharing a "quick" makeout session in the kitchen area.

It was risky to begin with because it was like 9pm on a weekend and more than half the class was still awake roaming around the building.

But honestly, neither of you could help it. You were at that point in the relationship where you just couldn't keep your hands off of each other.

Plus that little adrenaline and dopamine you got from pulling little stunts like this made it all the more fun. It was you guys' little secret. It was fun.

You were sat on the kitchen counter with Todoroki standing between your legs. His hands were placed on your thighs mindlessly kneading at them while your arms were lazily draped around his neck.

"Sho, I really wanna kiss.." You said softly.

"The others might come in soon, love." His voice was so smooth. He really didn't want to tell you no but you guys were already pushing it in this position.

"Just one tiny little kiss?" You gestured the words tiny and little with your thumb and pointer finger. "Pretty please?" You pouted playfully and batted your eyelashes at him.

Todoroki mentally sighed in defeat. He just couldn't say no to you.

With that you two shared a simple kiss, then another just a little longer... and the last kiss turned into a full blown makeout. You didn't know how much time passed before you both heard a forced cough.

You guys pulled away and looked at this kitchen area's entrance to see Denki, Kirishima, Tokoyami and Asui.

Denki: "Care to tell us when UA became Love Island?"

Kirishima: "Aw, come on guys. The counter?"

— kirishima

Honestly, this pairing is bold because you two fully outted yourselves out willingly.

1A decided to have a movie night in the common area one Friday night. It would be some fun considering training and classes were particularly hard that week. It would be nice to blow off some steam and goof off.

You were a little late coming down from your room because you had to finish up some important papers your work study requested.

When you finally got down to the common room, everyone had already claimed their seats.

Kirishima sat at the end of one couch and the spot next to him was already taken :(

Through 1A's chaos and chatter, you locked eyes with him and pouted subtly.

Just when you were about to sit on one of the empty pillows on the floor, Kirishima beckoned you over with his head and patted his thighs.

He gives you a wide toothy grin when he sees you walk your cute self right over to him to plop yourself right on his lap.

"Hey." He looks up at you with a goofy smile while he wraps one of his arms around your waist.

"Hi." You smiled at him and ran your fingers through his hair. He had it down which was your absolute favorite. You guys didn't even notice the chatter die down until

"Um.. are you guys dating?" Midoriya asked carefully. The whole room silently thanking him for being the one to ask.

"Huh? Oh yeah, totally! I'm her/his/their man!" Kirishima smiled widely and gave a triumphant fist in the air.

*cue Denki, Mina, Sero, & Bakugou angry (but supportive ❤️) at you guys for not telling them*

— denki

Okay, this one is pretty funny.

Behind closed doors, Denki made it a habit to quickly kiss your lips before you two part ways. For example, when he leaves your dorm to sneak back to his, he gives you a quick peck before he leaves.

Everyone engaged in their own separate conversations waiting for class to begin.

Denki was sitting on your desk while you sat normally in your chair. Mina, Sero, Kirishima and Bakugou were gathered around holding a conversation about the homework that was due today and how it was harder than usual.

"Alright, everyone to your seats." Aizawa said as he walked into the classroom. Everyone audibly sighed and sulked back to their seats.

"I'll see you after class, babe." Denki as he leaned down to give you a quick kiss on the lips.

Now...

It only registered until after he pulled away from you that he kissed you in front of everyone.

You guys just stared at each other like "😀"

1A: 🤨🧐🤭

Aizawa: 🧍🏻🗿

"I don't care what you guys do outside of class.. but PDA isn't allowed in the classroom."

Yes, Aizawa put y'all on blast and if you weren't already embrassed, you are now.

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