#because sometimes information is given as if it's a one size fits all situation
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This is why BMR calculators ask for your height, age, and activity level. The more active you are, the more calories your body burns on top of the amount of calories needed to do basic body things like digestion. Thus, the more calories you'd need to maintain, gain, or lose weight.
Like, I'm 5'4 and sedentary, and 2000 calories is too much for me. Not only because it lead to me gaining weight by eating that much when I haven't eaten that much AND stayed as inactive as I am up until a couple years ago, but also because it makes me feel WAAAY too stuffed anyway most of the time.
Context is important. Activity is just as important as food, both are good for you. And the bigger you are, the more calories your body needs. Calorie requirements are NOT a one size fits all thing, trust me. I know from my own experience.
Also, please see a doctor before changing your diet. Better yet, see a dietician, they'll likely know more than what you'd find on internet articles. Diet culture is a load of crap though, I can at least agree on that. So if your doctor or dietician starts spreading diet culture crap on you, find another one that's more reasonable.
More importantly though, PLEASE listen to your body. If your body says you need more food, eat more food. If you feel too physically full, that's a sign you should take a break from eating until you no longer feel bloated and/or sick.
Needless to say, looking up recipes to help with my autoimmune issues is going FANTASTIC and totally NOT making me want to commit arson
#for reference i need to eat somewhere in the 1500 to 1700 range to maintain my weight#i'd need about 1800 or 1900 if i was real active#and if i did strenuous hard labor like people did in the old days before vacuums and harvester tractors were invented i'd need FAAAR more#i ate almost as much as i do now when i worked retail and i maintained weight pretty well#but then i got inactive and stopped exercising because of my mental health getting bad and the same amount of food lead to me gaining#i don't feel bad about eating anything#i just hate that i binge in secret#tw ed#tw diet culture#just in case#this is also why you shouldn't automatically believe everything you see on the internet#because sometimes information is given as if it's a one size fits all situation#when a lot of things like nutrition IS ABSOLUTELY NOT one size fits all
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https://www.tumblr.com/dearweirdme/757802362042761216/httpswwwtumblrcomdearweirdme7577272183235706
Hey, I’m the one who sent you the ask the other day about taekook’s dynamic evolving. I did read your response aswell as some of the other anon asks responding to my ask and just wanted to say everything I said was from my point of view and not influenced by any other person’s thoughts. I was aware that my opinions were not going to be met with approvals because i know that tkkrs see things very differently but I just thought i’d share.
I decided to use my own life experiences because before I kinda got distant with my bestfriend, I also highly doubted the ITS talk because I couldn’t understand how they could claim taekook grew a little distant in such a short amount of time and the way we all still saw them physically affectionate and close to each other just didn’t make sense to me then but I understood how things like that could happen after what happened with my bestfriend. I am aware that sometimes too we project without realizing it but the difference between me now and the me I was before the whole thing with my bestfriend is that now, I understand that sometimes, you don’t have to have an argument or fight or issue with someone you are really close to for distance to creep in. Sometimes the distance creeps in because of circumstances not necessarily in our control like life events, physical distance from each other and stuff like that. People sometimes very naturally grow apart without having any issues with each other and that is what I meant. My bestfriend and I are nothing like we used to be before but we still love and care about each other so much and will be there for each other if needed. Sometimes it is impossible to understand certain things unless we personally experience them. I could be wrong but I just see now how things like that are possible and this is something I couldn’t see or understand before because I had never experienced it or knew anyone who had.
About Jk and Jimin’s living situations that I mentioned earlier, these are some pictures I found.
https://x.com/koongelic/status/1497134143192600577?s=46
https://x.com/koongelic/status/1496106980360208385?s=46
https://x.com/jjksonyeondan/status/1477296197178114049?s=46
Some of these pictures are taken in Nine one. You can compare to Namjoon and Jimin’s apartments. When you add these to the timeline of Jikook sharing a car right until mid 2021 when Jimin bought the apartment, plus Jimin mentioning that he was with Jk at 4am on his birthday back in 2020 and jikook arriving late for the radio interview back in 2020 when all the members were out of the dorm already, it makes sense. Namjoon also spoke to Jk about a coffee shop that was infront of “their” house during one of their lives and there is a coffee shop right infront of Nine one which people guessed he was talking about.
I think the members shared rides depend on how close they live to each other, for example, Yoonjin have shared a car for the longest time because they live 5 minutes from each other so I guess it is convinient for one car to pick up members who live close than sending individual cars. Minimoni have been sharing a car since mid 2021, taekook too have shared cars since they don’t live far from each other and back in 2019 when Jk first had his first apartment in Hobi’s apartment complex (which he has now given to his brother) he shared a car with Hobi for sometime too.
I feel like the ITS talk is forever going to be a very confusing topic for so many people and I can honestly see why some people would have doubts about it as I did too until I came to realize that human relationships and dynamics are very complex. Nothing is a one size fits all and as much as many people try to think they know everything, there is always some context or information we are missing which might put things more into perspective. I guess so many think that distance could only come with two people having fights or disagreements and that when this distance comes, there would always be noticeable physical distance as well but this isn’t always the case because sometimes we just outgrow certain people at certain points of our lives or just naturally grow apart from them maybe because we are on different wavelengths or just cannot relate to each other anymore as we used to. My bf and I got distant because we were both on very different wavelengths and in completely different spaces that we couldn’t relate to each other anymore. Does this mean we lost the love we had for each other, no but that emotional bonding which came from being able to completely relate to and understand each other just isn’t there as much. Maybe one day we would get back on the same frequency as I believe Taekook did and only get closer than ever. Same thing happens in romantic relationships too and even marriages when at certain points you just feel yourself getting so distant from your partner that it almost feels like you don’t really know each other anymore.
Anyways, just thought I should mention that I didn’t mean anything bad with my previous ask and just wanted to explain things further but we don’t have to agree on things because as I said, I could be wrong and also sometimes it is impossible for people to understand things if they haven’t personally experienced them. Thanks for being so nice in your response and I appreciate the concern❤️
Hi again!
I think the problem some have with this, is that while you say you are a newer fan, you also make it come across as though your ideas have not been influenced by others. As a newer fan (and I am also relatively new, nothing wrong with that) we do rely on certain influences from others. The points you used before to argue your case, come from a certain side of fandom.. and we can see that, because we've seen it before. Now to you, those might seem neutral takes, but they are not. When you say for instance "I remember..." while talking about something that happened in 2018.. you don't actually remember that time and what the vibe was like.. you remember watching the footage and the vibe you felt during that time. There is a difference there that should be acknowledged. When you talk about all the rides Jkk shared.. you most likely remember people (accounts, blogs) mentioning that, because you cannot have witnessed it yourself. And I don't mean to say that Jkk sharing rides wasn't true.. I mean to point out that you are biased (as am I ofcourse) and that Tkkrs who were around during 2016 have a different recollection of how the vibes were. From what it looks like to us is that you do not weigh Tkkrs opinions and accounts as heavily as you do accounts of other sides of fandom. Having multiple angles is important, but when we show reasons as to why we disagree.. all too often our ideas are just set aside as 'delusional' when the actual footage is literally just there.
I do understand what you mean when you talk about people drifting apart naturally without there having been actual issues. The thing with the ITS talk though, is that it's heavily implied that there was an issue that they had to work through. It's even said that things were almost back to how they used to be. It implies that a certain level of friendship should be met, which is weird. I think the ITS talk was something they used to make sense of why things looked weird before, and why they were about to change.
I think there is a lot that point to Tae and Jk still having been close on many different levels during 2016-2020 and beyond. A lot has to do with the looks of understanding they shared, but things like that are hard to point out with a single picture or vid. A few examples of what I feel speaks to their continuous closeness though:
2016:
youtube
2017:
Not an indication of closeness perse, but certainly one of attraction..
youtube
Borrowing this from Kayla (@taekooktimeline).
Jk rushing past people to walk next to Tae and holding his hand.
youtube
2018:
Yoongi's text to Tae and Jk and the way they all responded to that..
youtube
Tae himself saying that Jk listens to him when he's troubled and gives advice.
youtube
Jk wanting Tae to room with him in Malta and the way they sleep.
youtube
2019:
Besides the obvious closeness in the season greetings footage, this is quite something to say about someone.
youtube
This very confusing live in which it does become clear that at least Tae thought they were sharing a room. And during which it also seems Tae did not actually leave.
youtube
Also... a very strong year for physical closeness and magnetism.
Jk pointing at Tae.
youtube
2020:
As far as bodylanguage goes.. this cannot be more obvious. This is not two people being distant but still feeling close enough to cuddle. This is Jk being protective and comforting to Tae.
youtube
Overall, I think 2020 shows a care and connection between Tae and Jk that is undeniable. Jk's awareness of Tae and the way he was feeling is huge. The whole year leading up to the ITS talk shows moments of connection. Of them clinging to each other. It's absolutely possible that something felt off, because of the way Tae had been feeling... but that had nothing to do with their closeness I believe.
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Well what a wonderful thing to wake up to so. . .
Alright. This man. This silly sorcerer that has resonated with me since the start of the game and that obsession nearly doubled down when Nightbringer came out.
He's one of the more multifaceted among the characters. Cunning and wise yet sly and playful, always putting on a smile or that near-sarcastic frown when things don't go as he pleases. Look not saying that the others aren't as interesting—we'd have plenty of room to argue—though I believe that Solomon reigns supreme as being one of the most interesting characters to write for.
How come?
Well. . . a lot could happen.
You may be given a hypothetical scenario: think specific like running away in a getaway car after spending all your money at a casino, or browsing the atlas hidden in the depths of the library as your first date. When you picture those, you may think of let's say Mammon or Satan, or whoever you think would absolutely fit the vibe.
Here's the thing: while you may let any character have their moment with these given prompts, there's no deny that- "hey. wtf. these can apply to Solomon."
It's just.
Wow.
He's not necessarily a one-size-fits-all character, but his personality and dialogue alone quickly layouts millions of possibilities for whatever his character has going for. And that is not yet mentioning his serious moments. Or so his mysterious past as people continue on to speculate about it.
He's so tragedy coded that it's not even funny. Silly man with a dark bloody past?
Which brings to another point- while of course he is a silly ass sorcerer trickster to an extent: when he's serious, he's absolutely fucking serious. <- this person is partly tired when anyone excuses a character's carelessness and naivety due to their trickster persona. And this is not one time as well- Solomon is half to fully serious in his words. While he says it in playful banter, it's the full truth.
And this isn't even adding the fact that man is a fucking simp. Knees on the grown, head hung low, kissing the ground you grace your presence with type of devotion. The embodiment of a starstruck lover, from less likely friends to unlikely partners. At first I was skeptical when people gush over how "domestic" Solomon acts in OM:NB but- man. I got hooked into the bandwagon and now another white-haired guy has me by the neck and heel.
This is mostly how I base my take on his character when writing anything with him: given the information just as dialogue and lore tidbits. It absolutely doesn't help that Moni over here reminds me of my first lo—
That's all for now, hehe!! I have a lot more to say about this guy buuut, that's for a later time :))
i think the multifaceted nature is exactly the most interesting part about him. i sometimes think that there could be any situation in the game and the devs could make solomon react in multiple ways, and i could still be like "oh yeah that makes sense for him to say that/do that" for all of them (not like every single possible situation but you get what i mean i hope). because. he's like that.
his sincerity is one of the traits i admire the most about him. yes, he tends to wave off more personal questions but i don't think that he's any less sincere or honest about the things he does express just because he's reluctant to divulge too much about himself (the mystery makes him hotter hello)
also is it just me or i have these random moments of realising that this guy's like. insane. and he's toning it down by alot. you could write a list of insane shit he's done and stare in awe at how insane the shit he's done is but like. he acts like this guy. this silly little guy who happens to be crazy powerful but then u realise that he's CRAZY powerful and he could be so much more...harmful and sinister if he wants to be. i know this applies to the others too but like, it's just more interesting for him (AND simeon, they're just two Guys who i think are Actually OP) than for others because it's already like known?? for others?? ig? like, it's sort of ingrained in us but when it's him you just have these lil moments of wait woah yeah
idk what im saying im half asleep
and all that + how he's fully, desperately, madly whipped for mc. he'll give them the universe if they ask for a star but this mf will stay on the sidelines because "oh i don't want to interr-" shut up you soggy waffle ive been waiting with your ring for the past 4 hours and my hands hurt
anyways
everyone live laugh and solomon
#thank you very much#also first love??? 🤨 do guys like that even exist#i am fed#i mean the hunger for solomon never dies but#good job#interconnectedmatrix ♡#obey me solomon#obey me#vee chats#vee rants
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Harpy AU part 1 (3/7)
Today, I’ll be talking about my Beetlejuice Harpy AU. This one will be split up into two parts, the first part explaining the story itself, and the second part talking all about fun harpy stuff that will realistically never be talked about in the actual story. @possum-quesadilla
Shilo’s character playlist
Beetlejuice’s character playlist
Juno’s character playlist
Inspo: A character ai chat, the KREE series by scribble_mama on tiktok.
Basic plot:
Shilo (an OC), has been hunting down Beetlejuice (who is a harpy) for eight years. She eventually finds him and brings him back to her secluded cabin in the woods to study him. The two of them bond and eventually date. However, Shilo isn’t the only one who was tracking Beetlejuice down. His mother, Juno, has been searching for him for a while, and she won't rest until she gets him back.
Keep in mind that this information is mainly just for the first story. I’m working on the sequel for it, but I haven’t posted any chapters yet. Maybe I’ll make a part three just for talking about those sequel characters…
Character stuff:
Shilo
She/her
She’s 25. She’s always struggled to fit in, both with her peers and with her family. She ended up running away after a falling out with her parents, and she hasn’t returned home since. She is neurodivergent, and struggles a lot with social skills and obsession. Sometimes she gets so focused on one thing, she forgets to take care of herself. However, she’s also very strong, skilled, and independent. She’s very creative. She can also be rather stubborn, which can benefit or hurt her, depending on the situation.
Beetlejuice
He/him
He’s not completely sure how old he is, but he thinks it’s around 600 years.
He’s not great in social situations. After having to live and deal with Juno and her abuse for so long, he hatched (pun intended) a plan to run away. He ended up getting caught, and as a result, he murdered Juno. He was on the run for a while after that, and eventually ended up in the forests of Vermont, where he stayed for a while. Then Shilo caught him. He’s got a lot of family issues, with his mom being abusive and neglectful and his dad being absent. He’s got some anger issues and a lot of trauma around fire.
Juno
She/her
She’s around 620 years old.
Though female harpies are generally stronger and larger in this au, Juno was a runt. This caused her to be shunned by her flock members, as power and respect is given based on strength and size in her flock. She always felt that she deserved more. Juno, before her transformation, was a forest floor harpy and a member of the Canis Minor flock.
One night, she was approached by a demon (I won't name him for now) who promised that he’d grant her power, fame, and respect in exchange for her sleeping with him and keeping him company. She accepted, and the demon granted her phoenix powers. She could create and manipulate fire, she had a significantly longer life span (the average lifespan of a female harpy being around 200-250 years), she had stronger wings and sharp claws, and she could shapeshift. She was given very bright, warm feathers, which stood out and drew attention in her generally green environment.
However, the power she had got to her head. She became abusive towards her demonic partner, who decided to match her energy. Neither of them were good to each other. Eventually, the time came for harpies to battle for the spot of leader (I’ll talk more about that after this). Juno took everyone down and became leader of the flock. Due to her unique powers, she didn’t give up her position until Beetlejuice killed her. Then her newest partner, Nat, took over. He’s currently the flock leader.
Some fun facts about this AU because I need to talk about it:
Shilo is bisexual! It doesn’t get talked about much, unfortunately :( Beetlejuice is pansexual in this one.
Juno and Beetlejuice are the only ones of their kind, with Juno being the only phoenix harpy and Beetlejuice being the only phoenix/demon harpy.
Beetlejuice’s nest is based off of Iguazu Falls. I’d recommend looking it up, it’s a very beautiful place! May write a little story one day where Beetlejuice and Shilo go to his nest.
This AU is 9 months old today!
This is the only AU that currently has fics for it. The fics are Birds of a Feather and Flock Together. FT hasn’t been posted yet. When I was writing BoaF, I knew I wanted a sequel called Flock Together.
If you haven’t already guessed, this is my favorite AU, followed very closely by the necromancy AU, which I’ll be talking about soon.
There are two characters taken from the cartoon in this AU— Nat and Donny, ToonJuice’s dad and brother. In this story, Nat is Beetlejuice’s step dad and Donny is his half brother. He hates both of them. They aren’t parts of the main story.
That’s all for part one. Please feel free to send me any asks, character headcanons, songs that fit the vibe, etc. I love talking about this one so fucking much and I’m fueled by engagement lmao. Part two coming soon. Enjoy the art :)
^^^ early art of Shilo and Beetlejuice made in 2023.
^^^ some recent-ish art of Shilo and Beej.
^^^ art of Harpy Juno!!
^^^ art of Donny, Beetlejuice, and Nat.
#beetlejuice#beetlejuice au#beetlejuice fanfic#birds of a feather au#beetlejuice x oc#harpy au#beetlejuice art#my art#beetlejuice harpy au#harpy juno
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Im like. Seething in rage about that episode lol. Like five episodes ago we have jamie detailing a story of james sanctioning him being sexual assaulted (because that’s what it was!!!!!!!!!!! james could literally be convicted of sexual abuse) and now we have the show saying “well actually jamie should forgive his dad and he should explicitly reach out to him and invite him back into his life” like????? I believe in forgiveness but there are limits. And those limits are important.
yeah literally, everything about jamie’s dad in that episode was nothing short of infuriating and extremely painful to watch. like yeah, the violent asshole who arranged for his fourteen year old to be assaulted is exactly who we should be pushing the Forgive Them <3 For YOU <3 shit with, i guess. as if it’s a universal truth that forgiving someone who profoundly harmed you is healthy for every single person ever. especially still actively in the midst of a pretty serious trauma-induced mental health episode.
like that’s what gets me about this - or a couple of things that do ig. we get an (absolutely infuriating) ‘feel good’ shot of james in rehab smiling and proud or whatever watching the match but he has not said fuck-all to jamie. he has not made any kind of effort to apologize or take accountability for everything he did. what they showed jamie doing, reaching out like that? that’s extremely dangerous for him to be doing with no information about how it’s gonna go especially given the last time they interacted went the way it did. i KNOW that because ive BEEN THERE and it’s shit like this being the only narrative society at large will endorse that led me to being there and it fucked me up worse than id already been by an order of magnitude.
forgiveness is for YOU <3 is not a one size fits all maxim. sometimes it hurts people to do that. especially when they’re doing it because they’ve been told that’s the only way to be healthy or free or whatever. sometimes forgiving someone is dangerous and toxic and harmful. and there’s nothing showing THAT story. it’s all this one. it’s all ‘everyone’s needs are exactly the same and they’re ‘forgive your abuser, no it doesn’t matter if they’ve done anything to demonstrate they understand or regret what they did, after all it’s for YOU! no i will not be asking if that’s what you need or doing any work to verify that, just blanket prescribing it and this will be portrayed as the correct and good thing to do.’
it’s not that i think it’s inherently wrong to show someone wanting a relationship with an abusive parent as an adult. i still talk to two of mine, not that i have much of a choice, and i get that it’s very complicated and everyone has the right to make those choices for themselves. but once again i'm at the place of like, characters are not human people making complex decisions for their own reasons, they are narrative figures that are being written by writers making choices, and writers do not ever make a different choice with that narrative and it is blatantly transparent to me that this is largely because society at large does not give one fuck about abuse victims and is stuck in the perspective of the parent and going ‘what makes a good, happy ending here? oh i know! if this person gets their kid back and improves their life <3’ no thought at all as to what a happy ending for the abused adult child might be, or if that’s even a safe situation, which it often is not.
just. disappointing and hurtful and awful but not at all surprising. i keep seeing people expressing surprise that the show would extend its radical forgiveness and second chance approach to james sr of all people and without a fucking minute of work for it because apparently we lost sight of ‘accountability’ somewhere along that road, but i wasn’t surprised at all. because every show does this. every single one, every single time. abused children do not GET the luxury of walking away from their abusers, or saying fuck it, no forgiveness, that’s NOT what i need actually. and characters choosing to reconcile or forgive wouldn’t be nearly as troubling and upsetting to me as a survivor who got pressured by people in my life and by society at large to trying to do that and suffering a lot more for it if there was literally any depiction of other choices existing and being healthy and permitted.
combining the stuff with james in the same episode with the stuff with beard and nate and with ted and his mom was irresponsible, messy storytelling at best. these things are not the same and they are not comparable. people are complicated, and so are parents, and we deserve grace and understanding but abuse changes that equation significantly and that is a hill im going to die on every time.
#gav gab#gav answers#sorry this is so long lmao I have thoughts. on this.#this was an irresponsible and harmful and deeply hurtful and upsetting choice for that narrative#and it hurt me a lot to watch#especially because it was just. tossed in there with no thought or gravity#just oh yeah obviously!#man. there were some really great parts of that episode but fuck that shit so much#they did jamie dirty in that ep. again.#this show does not do abuse justice at this point#ted lasso spoilers#abuse cw#long post#rape mention#csa mention
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i've had a few ideas for a character to fit the bill so here's an idea
human woman (name unclear, might be named for some kind of archaic weapon because that would sound cool but the archaic bit can also imply that at her core she's outdated and refuses to change) who was at one point a heroine and revolutionary that took progressively more and more harsh actions until she wound up becoming a dictator just as bad as her former enemies, becoming more distanced from her allies and friends
she had a found family once, but the needs of her situations made her more willing to expend them or risk their lives, and when the consequences of her actions came for her, they all died and left her the sole survivor. She now knows that their deaths were her fault, but she refuses to admit it
she's also something of a human supremacist, in the sense that she tends to regard humans as inherently exceptional and is driven by the fear of humans becoming extinct or just another species among many. she's not particularly malicious about it, but she DOES consider a racist heirarchy with humans at the top and artificial beings at the bottom, which also links to some rather classist ideas that informs her attitude
she has a vibe similar to paramilitary characters from early 2010 video games; buzz cut, scarred up in an aesthetic way. Fairly tall, curvy, pretty buff (not like those games but EH), has an expression like she would prefer to resort to punching. At least one arm and one leg are missing, and have been replaced by ectoplasmic 'prosthetics' derived from her primary power: the ability to generate tangible constructs, which can change shape (getting stronger the bigger they get), convert their energy into projectiles, beams and blasts. They can also become dense, ignoring most damage at the cost of becoming immobile.
She is able to convert her entire body into ectoplasm briefly, allowing her to do a number of feats like customizing her appearance, growing to gigantic size for toughness and hitting real hard and healing all injury. However this is a big strain on her energy and she reserves it as a fighting winning surprise move.
She primarily acts as a generally non-malicious antagonist; much like the primary protagonists, she wants to delve into dungeons and magical locations to beat those dungeons and gain its power and find its treasures, as well as going into dangerous places and fighting warlords to rediscover blueprints to ancient technology, find hoards of long-lost literature and artifice, and locate cultural relics. However her end goal (recreate an empire for humanity to rule over all others) is directly antithetical to the Main Character Squad (create a just society where all beings may live together in brotherhood, and also shove themselves so full of cybernetics they turn into a super cool robo tank, and things explode for no reason) so they rarely have a reason to cooperate.
she is also in the habit of stealing the cultural and sacred relics of other people, like the British Musuem distilled, while if my characters do anything similar, they usually do so to RETURN those relics to their rightful owners (as best as can be determined) and sometimes are given quests to do so, while this character coldly believes that if they can't stop her from taking it, they don't deserve anything at all and that her allowing them to live is kindness enough.
(With that in mind, she's also a criticism of the 'human exceptionalism' branch of the Humans Are Space Orcs mentality, in that she's a culture supremacist asshole.)
hmm villain concept meant to play on a common element in fandom discourse that bothers me a lot; the lionization of ruthlessness
it really bothers me a whole bunch when you get this glamorizing of ruthlessness; the idea that what you want is the only thing that matters and any end to achieve it is acceptable. To some degree it also infects political discourse. You see a LOT of people with this kind of callous attitude where they go 'kill everyone i don't like, that'll solve anything' and get downright hostile at any kind of... discussion that this kind of attitude might be a bad thing, or at least counter productive. Its the same kind of thing where you get fandom talk that boils down to 'superheroes should just kill all their villains' or 'if you dont want a protagonist to instantly murder all their enemies except for the Good Ones, you're a coward and probably a fascist supporter'
same thing with steven universe haters who really despise a loving protagonist who doesn't want to see people get hurt, or in general, heroes that dont want to kill people if they can avoid it. is the whole 'aang should have killed Ozai' crowd, so this character would be meant at sort of dissecting that attitude
so I'm thinking that this character, meant as an antagonist opposed to the protagonists due to incompatible goals or desiring the same resources and plot impetus, at one point was a warrior striving on behalf of their people; much as the kind of people I referred to write as though the only thing that matters is what you want, and killing everyone in your way will work out just fine, had an increasing escalation of thier activities until they gradually became a bloody minded dictator, gaining victory at the cost of eroding their capacity to care
doing that sort of thing makes it easier to do it again, and do it harder. more importantly it also makes it harder to NOT resort to it as soon as its convenient. once you've gotten a position through bloodshed, its likely that you lose patience with dealing with former allies; now you have competiting factions and feuds within your group, so much talking and arguing and factionalizing and it used to be so much easier...
so they do what always works for them. They got rid of it. Its hard to put down a weapon you're used to, and after killing their enemies, now they kill their political opponents, becoming a brutal tyrant.
This, however, backfires; in the setting there is a spiritual element to all things, and they get the attention of a spirit of retribution whom is displeased at their escalating actions, and it allows an invasion of fiendish entities, viewing the bloodshed as an acceptable reprisal. (The spirit is indifferent to the morality involved, it should be said.)
It causes a massive disaster, and so this warlord is left one of the few survivors of an enclave of humans, with blood on their hands and not much else. They've learned from the experience, but are still deeply bitter and having a hard time truly accepting (though they intellectually understand it now) that absolute ruthlessness doesn't do much in making things grow.
Currently thinking of this character being explicitly human in a setting where humans are just one of many creatures (and possibly being a subtle human supremacist, but chiefly concerned with long term survival of their people that believes all other beings are simply threats, and resents that the multi-species faction of the protagonists is a walking contradiction of their wariness), leading a faction of mass produced and simple-minded boisterous clones made to die young as expendable soldiers. If the protagonists have a theme of liberation and growth (from programming, from biological limitations, from apparently powerlessness), then this character is chained, and they know it. Chained by grief, chained by bitter resentment, chained by the knowing that everything they built is in flames because they just couldn't stop hurting others, or accept that they were never in control...
Consequently they would probably work best as a mid-level antagonist; not someone who ultimately pulls the strings (since that might be better reserved for truly evil characters, because the less I have to characterize them the less it compromises their malice), but as a commander or leader of the immediate antagonist team. Probably superpowered themselves, since in the settings I go that goes without saying. If they are powered by the respect and loyalty of their followers, this might also feed into their personal issues; they used to be far stronger, and they can FEEL how much weaker they are, because so much of the people who once followed them are gone and the weakness they feel is a reminder of what they've done.
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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.
#jaehyun x reader#jaehyun scenarios#jaehyun imagines#nct x reader#nct 127 x reader#cznnet#neowritingsnet#nct scenarios#nct 127 scenarios#nct imagines#nct 127 imagines#nct fluff#nct 127 fluff#jaehyun fluff#nct fic#jaehyun fic#jaehyun fanfic#nct fanfic#moonwrites#i know i said no more 20k+ fics but............ this is literally karma isnt it#anyway i hope there aren't any typos i proofread like once that's enough k#also this is queued bcs im going on vacation ! :D
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where’s that hc about bucky learning to touch 🤲
I was hoping someone would notice that tag and hit me up. Thank you, sweet pea. This one is special to me, one of many. ❤
Bucky doesn’t say much about what happened to him after the fall and before Steve was miraculously given a second chance at a life with him. Steve is thankful for that. The details he does know come from Bucky’s therapist and from files that have been scrounged up over time, ones Steve can’t stomach through, ones he hands to Natasha and asks only for the information she finds pertinent.
Steve is sure he’d die of a goddamn broken heart if he knew every detail of Bucky’s 70+ years of brainwashed torture.
What he needs to know about Bucky is constant and will never change: this is James Barnes, the one in the same Steve spent his entire life falling in love with, Steve loves him now more than ever, and he is going to live every day he’s gifted with in this life for Bucky.
There are things Steve expects after Bucky joins him and the others back at the Tower, things Bruce has helped him comprehend in such a volatile predicament.
“It could take months, years even, for him to come back to you in full. And honestly, Steve...I would be ready for the possibility of him not returning to you in full. This may not end up being the Bucky you knew and grew up with. He needs therapy, needs patience, needs reminders of his life before, of who he was and is. This won’t be easy, Steve.”
Anything for Bucky.
There are things Bucky took to right away and other things that took much longer for him to enjoy or remember. Steve is with him every step of the way.
Sleep was one thing that Steve thought would be a struggle. After only one month of sleeping on the floor in the corner of his bedroom, Steve able to hear him tossing and turning and breathing heavily through his own bedroom wall, it took one afternoon nap on the couch to make him want to move to his new bed. While nightmares continued, Bucky slept albeit in small increments and sometimes through the day, but he slept.
Steve thought that would take years.
Crowds were another story. Crowds came with trust and Bucky rightfully didn’t trust others easily. He barely trusted Steve at first. It took time to get him out of the apartment, baby steps, one step forward and two steps back. They started with walks at dawn, fewer people, gave a shot at stopping for coffee on the way home a few times.
“It’s a Venti here, Buck,” Steve had tried to explain and Bucky huffed. “Why are things so goddamn complicated now? Just want a coffee, a—”
“I know— a black coffee with too much sugar. I got it.”
They’re working on interactions with others and the anxiety that comes with crowds. That one will take time.
What hadn’t taken time, and what startled everyone in the tower beyond belief, was Bucky and affection.
Steve may not know much of what Bucky has spent most of his life enduring but he at least had the assumption that what Bucky went through shouldn’t make him want any kind of touch from another person. Steve wrongfully assumed that any sort of gentle or soft touch wasn't something Bucky would like.
Bucky had spent the past 70+ years walking this earth as a killer, a robot, a machine, an assassin. He surely spent decades thinking he wasn’t worthy of anything, let alone love. He had been touch-starved, void of the tenderness and closeness Steve knows Bucky deserved and craved underneath the brainwashed parts of him.
It took time for Bucky to remember who Steve was to him. While he had recognized him immediately, remembering him but not how, it took months for Bucky to remembered the capacity in which he did so.
And Steve waited.
And waited.
Steve was gifted with small moments along the way, on this journey of Bucky remembering both himself and who Steve was to him:
“You...you were real small once,” Bucky said, factual with no trace of a question, hands in soapy water as he handed Steve a plate to dry. Steve had merely hummed. “Yeah, was...was maybe half the size I am now. Real small.”
“Could fit both’a my hands right around your middle…”
It had been a long while since Steve blushed like that.
Bucky standing over Steve’s sleeping form, heaving chest visible by only the filtered moonlight, Steve mumbling out a, “Buck, wha—?” before Bucky whispered, “You...you’ve been inside of me.” Steve sat up.
“I have,” Steve breathed, on cautious ground, shakier when Bucky then whispered, “But you like it better when I’m inside’a you.”
When Steve had swallowed audibly, nodded his head wordlessly, Bucky had turned and left the room.
It took months of moments like those to compile together, to form the picture of what Steve once was, what he yearned to continue to be, to Bucky. All of these moments, these memories, came to a head so unpredictably during yet another movie night. Knees knocking, fingers brushing, small touches that Steve absolutely soaked in, had gotten used to, had relearned.
When a glance towards Bucky had the wind knocking its way out of Steve’s chest, the familiarity of that look a bone-deep ache—
Bucky was going to kiss him.
A look full of determination and want, lips parted, eyes a bit glassy. Steve didn't dare move, had let Bucky come to him for fear of scaring him away. The moment their lips touched was the moment Bucky started crying. It had only been a short brush of their lips but Steve barely breathed, barely moved. Bucky had pulled back with wide, wet eyes, shaky breaths. “Buck, it’s okay. It’s okay. Everything’s alright, sweetheart,” are the words that easily slipped from his mouth, unable to stop them in a moment of progress that satiated his entire being.
That was the moment that changed everything. It was a startle to everyone involved. Steve had been ready to wait years, this entire life, for the moment he could touch Bucky again, could show him that physicality he knew his Buck craved. After that night on the couch it was as if the floodgates had opened—
Bucky remembered and wanted.
Regardless of where they were or what was happening, he wanted to be touching Steve: soft kisses on the cheek and lips, laying his head in Steve’s lap as he read, lacing his fingers between Steve’s during meetings, an arm wrapped around Steve’s waist between bouts of sparring. He’d trace patterns onto Steve’s thigh as he watched Steve draw, press against the line of his back while he cooked dinner.
Steve was floating on a cloud, was in heaven, never happier. It was perfection.
But what Bucky wanted, Steve couldn’t provide, couldn’t meet. Steve was only one man, couldn’t provide Bucky, whom touch had been stolen away from for decades, with everything he wanted. And that was okay, something Steve accepted, because there were other people Bucky could turn to that Steve trusted.
“I’m sure you all know why I asked you to meet with me,” Steve started, choosing a time Bucky was napping to meet with the rest of the group that either lived in or frequented the Tower. “Bucky has shown us a new side of him, has made some progress I think it’s worth discussing with everyone, since we’re all...we’ve all been affected...”
“Uhh, yeah— your Barnes-y boy has been all over me lately. I’m almost offended that everyone else is here to talk to Cap though. Thought he was just comin' onto me.”
“I have to tell you, I didn’t...I know we talked, Steve. But I’m honestly shocked at Bucky’s progress. It’s baffling.”
“I haven’t minded it. He lets me braid his hair.”
“Wait— y’all are getting touches?”
It was a group effort, supporting Bucky in this way. It was an adjustment, Bucky never prompting and questioning before touching or requesting touches— he just went for it. He was quiet still, not shy, merely observant. And just like he nudged at and leaned against Steve until his hands were on him, he did the same to others.
“I just ask that you show Bucky grace during this time. It’s a delicate situation. I need to know if you don’t want his touch or don’t wish to give him any kind of touch. I think it would be best if it came from me instead of from you in the moment.”
Natasha was who Bucky went to for scratches. Steve thinks it’s the nails. Steve also thinks Nat is Bucky’s favorite to go to for touches, even over him, but Bucky refuses to admit it.
When Bucky wants mindless touches, when he wants tickles and scratches, he goes to her. She naturally took to Bucky’s need for touches, the first occurrence one that came without hesitation. She’ll braid his hair, let him turn his head right where he wants her head scratches, naturally reaches for his back or shoulders to run her nails across when he saddles in close to her.
Thor is one of Bucky’s favorites too. Steve isn’t sure if it’s because of his strength or because of his warm and accepting demeanor but Bucky gravitates towards Thor often, mainly for neck and shoulder rubs. One, “James, my friend. You musn’t be afraid of asking for touch with me. I will always be willing to assist,” and that was all Bucky needed to feel comfortable walking over to Thor and nudging at his hands.
He puts his head on Bruce’s shoulder as soon as he can, likes sparring and playing hide and seek with Clint, enjoys putting his feet in Sam’s lap. Tony took some warming up to, but even then Bucky spent many hours in Tony’s lab, Tony guiding his hands, showing him what to do and how to work different machines, the two of them tinkering on his own arm.
Bucky kinda turns into the Tower kitty cat, wandering around quietly, napping in the sun, snacking, demanding affection from anyone he crosses paths with and trusts.
Everyone had their form of touch they shared with Bucky and Bucky absolutely blossomed under this form of support. Steve is forever grateful to be surrounded by a group of understanding individuals.
And every night when he lifts the comforter and feels the solid line of Bucky’s warm form against his side, the arm that now easily and inevitably slips around his waist, the familiar lips that always press against his temple, shoulder, and cheek, Steve is reminded this day was for Bucky and that the one they’ll wake up to will also be for him.
"I love you, Buck."
"Mhmm love you too, pal."
Steve doesn't even mind that Bucky spends his nights snoring in the crook of his neck, hot breath wafting over Steve's skin, hands grabby even as he dreams—
This is heaven.
#askK#fluffy lub#recovering bucky#found family#avengers 2012#this is one of a million i have of these#i rarely share like...canon-ish thoughts because i assume people are going to tear them to pieces lol#but i've been sitting on this one for a while#my tense might be way outta wack here lol my bad#tower of god
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Cassandra x Maiden----Anonymity
Three months, two days and seven hours.
That is how long you’ve been in Dimitrescu castle for. If rumor is to be believed, you are well on your way to setting the year’s record for longest living maid. Well. ‘Maid’, according to their perception. Your mind always automatically corrects it to something more fitting:
Prisoner.
You did not choose to work for them. You did not choose to be in this godforsaken place, cleaning crimson stains off the floors, trying to convince yourself the wailing that sometimes reaches your ears is simply the wind. You never would have imagined your life’s end like this, serving wine –no, who are you kidding, it’s too crimson for that— to the Dimitrescus at dinner until one of them snaps and drives the nearest blade into your throat.
Probably Daniela.
It’s not unheard of. And stories of other maids’ murders are plenty.
Daniela has bitten one’s throat off for the crime of addressing her wrongly. Cassandra has left increasingly deep gashes, some of which resulted in deaths, for random offenses, like staring at her for too long. Bela, arguably the more merciful of the three, has snapped necks only when the staff disrespected her sisters’ names, or her mother’s.
You aren’t sure if you want to thank the older maids for this information or yell at them for the nightmares it has caused you. You are lucky to not be in the village, they say –everyone there must already be dead. You are even luckier to have been taken from the dungeon by the Lady herself. It means the daughters don’t know you and the castle is big enough that they may never spare you a glance.
You hadn’t believed it, at first.
Yet in the three months of your stay, you have never come across anyone other than Bela in the sections you were assigned to clean and polish. She passed you by the hallway like she did the decorations and the furniture –and you couldn’t be happier about it. You have caught scarce glimpses of Alcina Dimitrescu, too. Never the other two residents.
Not until the fateful day another maid disappears and the staff’s assigned posts change. You have no say in it and no power to object.
May as well keep my head down and continue to work as carefully as I have. That is the idea. Not to look too much, or think too much, or feel too much. Avoid mistakes because those in the castle are fatal.
It is a little difficult to remain utterly calm when the sound of swarming insects comes from far behind you, though.
Your blood starts to kick in your veins. Your heart wants to jump out of your chest and make a run for it. You lock your muscles down and summon all the willpower you possess to stay focused on your task.
Please be Bela, please, please, be Bela—
The buzzing dies down. Steps approach you in the otherwise silent hallway. They are too light to be Bela’s. You’re probably screwed, you think, but you keep cleaning the surface in front of you until it’s practically a mirror with how it shines.
The steps halt too close to you for comfort. Out of the corner of your eye, you realize they’ve left bloody imprints on the floor you’ve been polishing for hours now. Dainty, pale fingers are wrapped loosely, almost lazily, around a sickle dripping crimson.
“Never seen you around, before.” the sound of her voice makes you freeze.
You stop and turn— to face none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her hood is down, brunette waves on point, the dried blood at her chin a terrible contrast to her otherwise attractive face. You… didn’t know she was that pretty, up close.
“I… I have been here for three months. On the opposite wing.” you say. Was I even supposed to reply? You’ll find out soon enough, if your tongue is still attached to your body.
Her eyes give you a quick once-over. “Bela’s been keeping you a secret, huh.” she tsks. Her free hand goes to the handle of the door next to you… and only then do you realize it must be her bedroom. You’re literally assigned to clean the wolf’s den. “Come wake me up when the sun has set, completely.” she emphasizes.
What.
“Uh—”
The crimson-dyed sickle moves until its blade rests underneath your chin, lifting it so your eyes meet hers. From this angle, under the pale lighting of dawn, they look more –stunning— blue than inhuman gold. “No loud sounds. No lights. Got it?”
How can you not, when your life depends on it?
“Yes, my lady.” you reply. You don’t even dare draw breath.
“Good.” In one swift movement, the sickle is gone, the handle turned and she’s already shedding her robe.
You catch a glimpse of a black corset and a narrow waist before you avert your eyes.
The door shuts.
...
Waking Cassandra up can be… tricky, the other maids tell you.
She detests light when she opens her eyes but she also doesn’t want it to be pitch black. You’re not supposed to talk but you can’t shake her, either. Which brings you to the very logical question:
“What the hell am I supposed to do, then?”
To which they have no answer.
They have no answer, you realize with a start… because there’s nobody alive to tell the tale of how to actually wake the brunette sleeping beauty up without simultaneously signing their own death sentence.
The hours pass both too slow and too fast. The sun sets over the horizon.
And you stand, riddled with nerves, outside Cassandra’s room.
A deep inhale later, you turn the handle. The door is left half-open so a bit of light comes in from the hallway. Her bedroom smells like shampoo, bath salts and spices. She must have taken a shower before she went to sleep. You approach the figure tucked under the silken sheets of the queen-sized bed…
Cassandra is lying on her side, one hand underneath her pillow, the other extended loosely towards the edge of the mattress. She probably sleeps naked, at least from the waist up, but thankfully the covers are wrapped around her chest. Their royal red color makes a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin.
Her face is so… serene.
She is a monster and a sadistic killer, yet right there you can’t deny she looks more like a renaissance painting.
Now onto the hard part.
“My lady… the sun has set.” you whisper, kneeled on the floor beside her. No movement comes. “Hey… I’m here to wake you up?” you try again. Still nothing. Shakily, you bring your hand up to the bed. Not daring to touch her, you leave it beside hers, over the covers. “Cassandra?”
She turns her face deeper into her pillow –no, no, you don’t think it’s cute, what’s wrong with you— but at least she’s finally reacting. You call her name one more time.
Her nose scrunches up a little. Long fingers flex –and they touch yours. She’s cold. A pair of blueish ambers blink open to regard you. Not with malice, or with annoyance.
“Good evening.” you speak, unsure of what else to say.
A smirk slowly curves her lips. She looks like a lazy cat pondering whether or not it’s worth it to pounce and that’s not good. It’s not good, not ‘hot’ like your mind suggests. God, you’ve been in this castle so long you are starting to get messed up.
“Mm, breakfast in bed.” she grins and licks her lower lip sexily. Your eyes fly wide open, but her hand is already gripping the front of your black shirt, trapping you there.
How could you ever find this psycho attractive?! you get mad at yourself. Is she hot now that she’s going to kill you?
But Cassandra only lets out an airy laugh and releases you. You fall backwards on your behind. “Breathe, darling, I’m joking.” She rolls onto her back and seems to wince from it. Her smile vanishes.
“…does… your back hurt?” you ask when you finally find your voice again.
“Ugh, a Lycan landed a hit on me. He’s pieces now, of course, but my muscles still pull.” she says it casually, like it’s a thing that happens.
Silence falls over the room. You take it as your cue to leave. You stand and bow while she’s looking blankly at the ceiling—
But she stops you.
“Wait. Come here.” you don’t like it when she gets that tone, like she came up with something she cannot wait to try. You’re already close to the bed, you’re not sure what she means. Until she pats the spot right next to her. “Don’t make me say it again.”
You won’t. You know what’s good for you.
Hesitantly, you take a seat on the –admittedly very comfortable— mattress. “Yes, lady?”
“Give me a massage.” she says like it’s your job, like she’s the rich woman in a spa and it’s what’s expected. She turns onto her front, bearing her naked back to you and you have less than five seconds to come to terms with the thought of straddling her.
Carefully, you bring your knees on either side of her thighs and pull the sheets so they rest low at her waist. You feel warmer than you should given the temperature of the castle. If she knows the fine teasing line she’s walking, she is loving every inch of it.
Cassandra loves being the center of attention and she loves being pampered, you realize.
It’s probably amusing to her to make you fluster, but this is also an opportunity for you to get on her good graces. She is a dangerous one and it’ll be a great asset for your survival if she’s leaning favorably towards you. Win-win situation. You just have to be good at your job. Like always.
By some miracle of God, you do know how to work the tension out of muscles.
The first time you touch her, you simply rest your hands on her back to warm it. She doesn’t seem to object, from the way lean muscle stretches out under your fingers. Cassandra feels cool, but not hard like marble. Her skin yields under your touch, soft and smooth.
As you apply more pressure to your stokes, she starts to let out little sighs that you have to mute in your mind before they start to affect you. You’ve been high-strung and without sex for too long. Your body all too eagerly intercepts this death-trap as foreplay.
Minutes roll by.
You alternate between all the methods you know. The one that really seems to get her is when you drive your thumb into the knots and end with a little circle.
Cassandra is –God help you— openly moaning every time you press more. It is a bit too much pressure you’re applying though and you don’t know if you’re hurting her and she’s just into it.
“Is this too much…?” you ask. Fuck, why do you sound so breathless?
“No, it’s good.” she husks back.
“Harder?” You don’t know what innocent means, anymore.
Cassandra sends that little smirk again over her shoulder. “Harder.” she replies and the extra flair she puts into it is enough to nearly fry your brain. And other parts of you.
You’re pretty sure you need a cold shower by the time you leave her room.
...
At diner, you hang back in the shadows, gaze downcast.
You do not need to know what the Dimitrescu family is eating, nor what they’re drinking. You do not need to see Cassandra or risk catching Daniela’s gaze. You love your anonymity in the castle. It has kept you alive.
But it is shattered like frail glass when you bring another bottle of Sanguis Virginis to the table. You’ve almost retreated back to your place, when Daniela’s eyes zero in on you.
“She’s the human!” she exclaims like she’s made the world’s most startling discovery. Bela seems to understand, but the Lady and Cassandra frown over their glasses.
“I am almost afraid to ask, love.” Lady Alcina says…
And she’s right.
“The one who made Cassandra go ‘harder’ and ‘yes, yes!’ earlier this evening.” she impersonates in her sluttiest voice and then breaks into a fit of cackles. Bela’s lip twists into a withheld chuckle.
Lady Dimitrescu nearly chokes on her wine.
Cassandra slaps the back of Daniela’s head. “You’re such an idiot.”
“Girls.” Alcina warns and glares until the table calms again.
Then, her eyes curiously fall upon you.
So much for your anonymity.
Ko-Fi
#Cassandra Dimitrescu#bela dimitrescu#daniela dimitrescu#alcina dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu#lady dimitrescu's daughters#cassandra x oc#resident evil village#resident evil 8#fanfiction#cass kills with her hair and nails on point she's the murder-princess type#you can't change my mind#I love her
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Rules
Alfie Solomons X Friends with Benefits!Reader
Summary: She’s known as a dancer in a high end club but he’s known her for not so long. She decides the rules, he goes along with them but sometimes, he’s the one making the rules.
“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.”
“Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”
It’s late.
Late enough to hear the dogs howling in the groggy streets of London as the black sky decorated the horizon. The room was quiet, only the sound of breathing filling the hollow walls of the apartment. The silence wasn’t unusual and it was more than welcomed. The owner wasn’t home, a familiar body was standing in the spacious entrance.
You weren’t home yet.
Feeling the soft material of the lacy undergarment residing around your upper thighs, you looked around to see who was still in the club. It was close to the weekend which meant that it was getting busier than usual. Men were mostly drunk or intoxicated by the movements of the ladies around. There was no one to entertain in the club anymore so you moved towards the interior rooms to get ready to leave.
The space was decorated with mirrors, make up clutter right in front of them as some of the girls packed the last of their garments to leave. The sun would approach soon, sunlight beaming through the groggy city but you hoped to make it home before then. Slowly gathering your stuff and stuffing them all in your bag, you looked at yourself in the mirror.
The club wasn’t the usual, much like you.
It was a place for rich lads, some aristocracy and the kind of men that had to be served in private rooms because of how high they were up in the pyramid scheme. Most of the work you did was talking, some dancing here and there and you were done. Nothing ever got physical since it wasn’t a brothel, but a place for fine entertainment.
The make-up was off, your natural skin color glowing under the countless bulbs that decorated the mirror. The club was mostly empty now, car sounds no longer audible. It was dead silent outside, the hour when the city would be asleep and you’d walk home on your own. It was a treat to say the least.
The cold weather attacked your skin a bit too quickly as you made your way down the street. Your flat wasn’t too far from the club, just perfect distance for a night walk. It was dangerous in the streets, especially for a lady like yourself but you had a gun hidden in your bag and a long needle that held your bun together and you knew your way around both of those tools.
The night seemed quiet as you walked, no sounds of chatter but a few drunken lads from a couple blocks away. You hugged your coat a little tighter and realized that you were less tired than usual.
-----
The inside of the house was quiet, an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach as he looked through the corridor. Your dresses were on the floor, a couple mugs here and there sitting on the piles of books. He saw a nightgown and your knickers on the floor and decided that you had gone to the club a little later than usual. As far as he was concerned, everything was normal.
The sound of keys jiggling outside the door made him turn towards the entrance and before he knew it, you pushed the door open with a gun in your hand that was pointed at him. Your breathing was even and the gun in your hand didn’t shake in the slightest.
He greeted you with a smile.
You lowered the gun down in a swift motion when you realized who it was. He was wearing his usual smile, broad as he walked towards you with dense eyes. He was wearing the usual attire but his prayer shawl was missing and you realized it was past saturday.
There he was, the handsome stranger.
He wasn’t so much of a stranger really, not since he’d made you chant his name until the sun was down and you had to go to work. He knew the way your body responded, what you liked in the bedroom and just how to kiss you to make you beg.
He didn’t know anything about your family, where you’d spent your childhood or the way you’d silently pray each time you saw a shadow. Alfie didn’t know what meals you cooked, how you liked your tea or anything past your occupation and name and where you lived.
He didn’t need to.
And he wasn’t allowed to.
“What the fuck happened to sayin’ ‘ello, pet?” he said with an amused face that you didn’t mirror. You were still a bit tired from work and he never came over afterhours.
Those were the rules.
He was allowed to come anytime before your work and never after you’d just arrived home. He would usually call before and let you know. He wasn’t allowed to buy you things or take you out, even though he’d stayed over a couple times before. You knew limited information and about him and he the same, and he wasn’t allowed to break any of the rules.
“Sorry. I’m just a little..” you spoke with a soft tone and he could hear the tiredness seeping from your limbs as he took a look at you.
You looked tired but beautiful nevertheless.
Your figure was a bit slumped, the kind of tiredness that came from working too hard and not because he was the one tiring you out. You weren’t wearing any make-up or fancy clothes, it was his favorite version of you. He didn’t like all the make-up you had to wear for the club or the fancy lingerie but he had no say in any of the things you did. You had made that painfully clear for him.
“Ya’ alright?” he asked while walking towards you, voice a little concerned at your state but you were a bit too tired to care.
And you wanted to hug him, really badly.
Alfie was very rough around the edges, far too rude at first sight for any lady but it would take a split second to realize that he wasn’t rude at all, that was just the way he was. He brushed shoulders with gangsters, people of the underworld who had to do dirty things to get food on their table. He had blood in his hands and for a man of his kind, he was a gentle one.
You immediately leaned a bit closer when his hand came into contact with your shoulder.
“Fine.” you nodded, little bits of your hair framing your face and Alfie leaned in even closer, standing right in front of you with his hand on your hip.
“Do you want anythi-” you started speaking in a softer voice than normal and Alfie felt himself melt a little but his eyes didn’t leave yours.
“Nah,’m fine, pet.” he said, in a low whisper. He was very gentle at that moment, almost like in a daze.
He had met you in a very unusual way.
You had crashed into him, face on his chest one day when you were out buying groceries. The flowers in your hand were crushed when you bumped into him and he had no time to apologize before you’d started screaming at him for being so careless. He’d listened you shout while thinking about how lovely you were and then asked you out for tea that very same day.
You had said yes and then somehow ended up on his bed. You’d left without saying goodbye but then bumped into him a couple weeks later. He had talked charmingly the whole time and then it happened again, again and then once more before you established some rules so that he didn’t think this was more than a stress relief situation.
“What are you-” you started talking again with his face closer to yours but he interrupted you soon, speaking softly against your irritated face.
“I had a fuckin’ job, right, jus’ around the fuckin’ corner so I figured..” he spoke but trailed off with a smile and you finished it for him.
“So you figured you’d have a quick fuck-” your smile was less evident as you looked at him while speaking.
“A visit, lass. A fuckin’ visit is what ‘m here for, innit.” he said, interrupting you once more and he saw your blood boil which only aroused him.
“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” your voice was stern as you looked up at the man. He was twice your size yet you did all the ordering around.
He didn’t mind.
He had been with his share of women, mostly in brothels but he’d usually leave out that part. He loved women, that was a given but he had never grown fond of one before. You had seem like the polar opposite of him when you’d first met and all that did was to draw him even further. He didn’t like the warmth that spread through his chest when he saw you, it made him feel young and defenseless again.
“Sorry, pet.” he said, face even closer to yours now. You knew what he was here for but it didn’t fit the rules, you had no problem sending him home.
“You came here for what?” you spoke against his lips, not kissing him just yet but simply teasing. He was a sucker for that.
He smiled when your fingers caressed his cheek and your lips almost touched his. He wasn’t here for a fuck this time, he had simply dropped off. He had business around the corner with a butcher’s shop that was causing him some trouble and realized that you’d be home soon.
He also wanted to ask you a question but that would come later.
“To see ya’.” he said, simple as that while your lips ghosted over his. Your eyes were locked into his and he didn’t seem to be lying from the way his face relaxed.
“Hm.” you said, humming before you leaned closer to plan your lips on his.
The kiss was slow, not the usual teeth against teeth you had with him. His hands were on your waist while yours resided on his chest and cheek. He was savoring the moment since this was rare with you, very rare. You wanted some relief on most days and that’s when you’d see him, not when you wanted a hug or a small chat.
But you weren’t complaining in the slightest.
You broke the kiss, a bit hesitant at first while staring at his lips. He was searching for your eyes when you parted but you wouldn’t look with the fear of him catching something in there. You slowly walked away from him, taking your long coat off and throwing it on the sofa. The house was a mess but that was the usual. All you and Alfie did was fuck anyway so the only place he would be concerned with was the bed.
You sat down on the chair in the corner of the room and looked at him, standing near the entrance with his broad form. He was here for something, you could tell but he wasn’t so keen on giving it to you. It wasn’t like you were dying to know but Alfie was not someone who’d usually ask for anything, let alone anything from you.
All he would ask was a fuck and that was the arrangement.
“You’re gonna talk?” you said, watching as he made his way to the corner you were sitting on and sat on the sofa next to you.
He didn’t speak for a while. His hand tugged at his beard while he looked at you, lost in thought. He wasn’t really looking at you but through you, which was unusual considering he was one of the first people to ever see you for who you were. You didn’t like to think about it, he was good in bed and that’s all you were concerned with.
“Ya’ hear what’s goin’ on in these fuckin’ streets?” he asked, head motioning outside for a split second before he directed all his attention to you again.
Your eyebrows furrowed and you spoke, not a care in the world as he looked at you. “Seeing as I arrive home at this hour, no.” you said, eyes searching for his for a second before finding them.
He seemed uneasy.
“There is a fuckin’ war, yeah, a dangerous one, lass and it ain’t gonna look pretty for ya’ when they realize ya’ fuckin’ know me.” he said, measuring each and every word.
You didn’t know why he cared.
In your eyes, you were just a woman he fucked. There were no strings, no seeing each other romantically or any kind of involvement. You weren’t his, not by any means and he wasn’t yours. You’d speak to him if you saw him outside but there was no other involvement other than being with each other for stress relief. For all you knew, he was still making regular visits to the brothel.
But he wasn’t.
He had stopped right after he had first met you. He still had his needs but you were more than capable of taking care of him if he were to knock on your door. He knew the rules, was very well aware of the lines you’d drawn for him but he’d still protect you. Not because you were his fuckbuddy but because he genuinely cared about your wellbeing, even if that wasn’t allowed.
You smiled at him at first, almost felt like he was mocking you. Why did he care? You tilted your head to the side and spoke with an amused voice as he looked at you with concern in his eyes, not something you were used to seeing. He still listened as you spoke. “Obviously you have mistaken me for somebody who gives a shit.”
He shook his head with an amused chuckle. You really had no idea. The Italians didn’t know of you yet but if they followed Alfie enough times, they could easily make out the equation. He looked at your still form for a moment and spoke, saying what he’d been wanting to say since he arrived and you saw the weight being lifted off his shoulders.
“I can fuckin’ protect ya’, pet, if ya’ come live near me, that is.” he said, word by word and he saw your face change.
It was absurd.
“No.” you said, not even taking a minute to think about it as you looked at him. Before he said anything else, you spoke up again with a shaking head. You were still seated, less angry than he’d expect you to be. “I can’t move away from work and I don’t even know how to find another apartment at this time.” you spoke, voicing all your concerns.
He was a gangster and knew the ropes better than you so you opted on trusting him. If it turned out to be a mistake, you would blame it all on him but you didn’t want to get killed because you’d been fucking some bloke. Except that he wasn’t some bloke and he had his own gang.
“I got that figured ou’, I did, yeah.” he spoke to you while leaning back on the sofa. You looked at him with a curious expression. He was amused at it for a second before speaking up again, hand tugging at his beard. “I got ya’ a fuckin’ place of yer own, near where I fuckin’ live, pet...” he said and watched your eyes burn.
Who did he think he was?
The rules were clear and your blood was boiling because this man was breaking every one of them. He wouldn’t care if you were dead, you had thought but the more he spoke, the more you changed your mind. He had already taken care of everything without even asking you and he heard you scoff while his words still filled your ear.
“I’ll have one of the lads to fuckin’ drive you..” he said, done with what he was saying and you snapped back immediately.
“You’ll have someone drive me in the evening and pick me up at 4 in the morning from a gentlemen’s club?” you spoke, eyes stern as they bore into his.
He just nodded.
You scoffed once more and got up, hand on your hip as you paced through the room. He just watched. He could see the questions forming as you looked at him every now and then as you paced. There was a look of panic in your eyes as you walked through the corridors and realized that he was probably right at having you move, you could easily be killed. Even if you weren’t seeing him, it was common for someone to be killed just because they were living in a dangerous area.
“Will they kill me?” you said, and spoke once more before he could answer. “If I don’t move, I mean..... Will I die?” you said, eyes wide with confusion and panic.
So he spoke up almost immediately, not liking your frantic eyes as he was used to seeing your calm features after a good fuck. “I won’t have that fuckin’ happen-”
“But If I refuse to move?” you said, waiting for him to properly answer the question with hand on your hip. He knew you were measuring all the possibilities.
“I ain’t gonna lie to ya’, pet, ‘s very possible, it ‘s.” he said while looking at you. He was still sitting in front of you.
He watched you nod.
This didn’t change anything in your eyes. It wouldn’t mean that you were dependent on him or that he would have any power over you. You’d just be protected and the chances of you getting killed because of him would decrease. You measured it all in your mind and realized that it was probably for the best.
“Fine.”
------
His movements were fast, feral almost as his skin came into contact with yours every other second. The bed creaked, not too loud while your panting filled the room. Hands holding onto him by the shoulders, you let out a shaky exhale when he adjusted the angle. His hair was messy as it fell on his forehead, moving each time he thrusted into you.
“Fuck.” you whispered against his lips when he started moving faster, hand on his back and neck while his remained on your waist.
He groaned against your neck with each movement, holding your legs up on his knees in the process. A thin layer of sweat was apparent on your skin even though it was freezing outside. You watched him lift his head, facial expression covered in bliss while the morning light hit his face.
It had been a week since you’d moved into the apartment and 4 of those days had been spent with you and him testing the new bed. You had gotten a new one for yourself and he’d joked about how you’d have to break into it so that it was comfortable and you had given him one look and there you were, four days later with your legs wrapped around him.
Your back arched off the bed the faster he became and he was soon becoming erratic, gasping for air and you felt your body slowly tense and give in. Your hands dug into his back as he moved, reaching his climax soon after. He stayed like that for a while while you regained your breath, feeling your body grow tired with each passing hour. You swallowed as he slid out of you and collapsed next to you on the bed.
The rules were still in place.
You stared at the ceiling while he stared at you while laying on his stomach next to you. Your hair was messy, the tie no longer holding it together and tangles here and there. He watched your heaving chest, breath a little lost as you locked your lips.
And then you turned to him.
His eyes had already been on you but you hadn’t realized. He was staring, not gawking but looking with some sort of softness in his gaze. You didn’t smile as you inspected him and the way he was looking at you. You didn’t do the same to him, feeling yourself grow a bit too uneasy at the feeling of being watched.
And if you looked for too long, you were afraid you’d get lost.
Slowly lifting your body off of the mattress and sitting next to him, you came to realize that most of your lower body had gotten sore in between days of tidying and arranging the new flat and Alfie not wasting a second to get you alone so that he could spend the rest of the day tiring you out even further.
He watched your hair fall across your back when you got up, messy from the events that had just taken place. You were not wearing anything so you grabbed your cardigan and wrapped it around your body when you got up. The whole time, he just watched as you moved around your new space.
It already felt like home.
He’d spent most of the days either helping you out or making sure that the lads didn’t damage any of the furniture or simply making you pant on the bed. It had been wonderful if he was honest, he wasn’t as angry and there was no feeling of uneasiness in his chest. He still saw dangerous man from day to day but knowing that you’d be home before you left for work, telling the lads how to put the sofa made him feel look forward to the time he’d get to see you.
He didn’t think much of it, or so he convinced himself that he didn’t.
“Alfie.” you said, you had been speaking to him but he was in his head so he hadn’t heard.
“Huh, what, luv?” he said, lifting himself off of the mattress and sitting on the soft material instead.
“You want tea?” you said, licking your lips while standing next to the door’s frame with nothing but a cardigan on.
“Hm.” he said, nodding as he got up to put his pants on. He didn’t dress himself any further even though it was cold outside, he felt warm after laying on the bed with you.
He walked towards the kitchen to see you waiting for the water to boil. You looked at him when he appeared on the door and you gave him a gentle smile which he returned with a warmer heart. He walked next to you while you poured the water in the tea cups and his hand met your hip, squeezing gently.
This was not something you usually did.
In the last week, the lines had become blurred. It was hard to tell what he was to you. He had found you an apartment and had even picked you up in the morning when you were done. You had joked around with him during the ride and he’d even made jokes to make you smile, he had succeeded, too.
You shuddered a little when his lips met the space between your ear. He knew your body like the back of his hand, no matter how much you’d want to deny it. You kept your eyes on the water that was pouring out to the cups but his lips had your attention.
“Alfie, I’m gonna burn myself.” you said, in a breathy voice and he stopped with a smile. You didn’t even see his lips soften but you knew he was smiling.
After putting the tray on the table that resided in the middle of the living room, you sat on the soft chair you had brought from your previous place. He sat on the sofa on the opposite corner while waiting for the tea to cool down. He wanted to say something, it was hanging at the back of his mouth but he couldn’t get the words to come out.
And you so took it upon yourself to make him.
“If you wanna say something, just say it.” you said, almost a whisper but he had heard since the rooms were silent. You wore an annoyed expression that he often saw but it only amused him further.
He wanted to ask you if you’d work today and he already knew the answer.
He didn’t like it, the sticky feeling in his stomach each time you would go to work. He had no say in what you did, either for work or on the daily and he knew that but it only stirred him further. There was the fear of you getting hurt but he knew you were more than capable of taking care of yourself.
And then, there was the other issue that wouldn’t leave his mind.
Other men got to see you in fancy lingerie, things that didn’t cover you up all the way and it made him mad. He didn’t quite know why, just that he was annoyed with the whole thing. He wouldn’t say it but you’d see the relief on his face when you’d be back from work or when he’d come to pick you up. He had been fucking you a little more carefully lately, ever since you’d moved in closer to him. He was almost tender, painfully soft with you when you’d let him show you a good time. It wasn’t the animalistic, rough Alfie you were used to but there was complaint, only curiosity.
He didn’t speak, just hand tugging at his beard and you knew he’d wait until the day was over and you’d be back from work to see him still in the same position. “You’ve been in me, Alfie, I won’t get mad.” you spoke, almost sensing the reason for his hesitation and his eyes locked into yours when you were done speaking.
He figured he’d trust your word.
“Yer goin’ to work?” he asked and saw your features change.
You knew why he was asking but that didn’t change anything.
You had a vague idea as to why he had been more gentle with you lately, why he kissed you deeper than usual and why he insisted on giving you hickeys even though you’d told him not to on numerous occasions. He was more touchy, almost always around with the excuse of ‘making sure you were settled in’. You were just a girl but you weren’t stupid.
And this wasn’t something you could allow.
Men got jealous, they got protective and thought they had some sort of power over you the moment you’d become ‘ their girl’. You hated that anyway, being someone’s girl and knowing how dangerous Alfie’s line of business could be, you didn’t see sense in pursuing the possibility of anything happening with the man. You shook your head and he watched you lick your lips before you spoke.
“Yes, I am.” you said nonchalantly, as if you were trying to tell him that no matter how much he’d ask, you still wouldn’t want it. “You don’t need to pick me up.” you said, expressionless as he looked at your standing yet somehow small form. You hugged the cardigan tighter as he spoke, he watched you put some things into space. Things he’d knocked out of its place when he had been feverishly kissing you.
“I fuckin’ will, though.” he said, eyes stern as he looked at your face. You were a little taken aback but no evident sign of surprise.
“You don’t have to.” you said again, agitated with his need to make sure you were alright when all you needed him for was a quick fuck.
It didn’t work like this, not with you so you wouldn’t entertain the chance of being with him.
“I want to, lass, yeah, so I fuckin’ will.” he said one last time before getting up to walk towards you.
He would be jealous, you told yourself. He wouldn’t like the fact that other people were able to see you in such little clothing, you thought and he certainly wouldn’t appreciate the little dances you would give. Sure, he was a good fuck but he was also a cruel gangster and the balance seemed almost even.
Almost.
You walked away the moment his breath his your face and made your way to the bedroom to tidy up. There were clothes on the floor and books everywhere, you grabbed one and put it on the shelf and he was right behind you when you turned back.
“Alfie, move.” you said, not able to penetrate through his large form as he blocked your way.
“Tell me.” he said, finger under your chin as he lifted your face so you were looking at him.
“Tell you what?”
“Why?” his voice was a whisper as he looked at your small form, chin still between his fingers as his eyes bored into yours.
Your eyebrows furrowed at the question as he looked at your face, Why what? you thought. The question had so many ways of ending and yet, only one question popped into your mind.
Why were you still going to work? Why, when he was the one keeping your bed warm?
You didn’t answer, you didn’t know if there was an answer. It would not work, he would be a jealous man, jealous of the other ones that got to see you in work and it would get unbearable like it always would with any relationship you had. You didn’t say anything and walked away, he just watched.
He left soon after that, not a word or a forehead kiss like he’d usually give you. He wasn’t hurt or broken by anything, he was just waiting for you to make up your mind. The words had stirred something in you, he had seen that when you had looked at him. He just needed an answer now.
Laying on the bed as you watched the street lights dance on the ceiling, you realized you had the answer.
But it would put you in a lot of danger.
-----
Tagging: @clairecrive @parkbearum @sourirez @vetseras @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum
A/n: Hi!! This was something that had been in drafts for a while now so i wanted to post it at last. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know if you’d like another chapter!!
#alfie solomons#alfie solomons imagine#alfie solomons smut#alfie solomons scenario#alfie solomons x reader#alfie solomons series#alfie solomons fluff#alfie solomons fanfic#alfie solomons fic#alfie solomons fanfiction#alfie solomons x oc#alfie solomons x shelby!reader#peaky blinders#alfie solomons peaky blinders#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinder fanfic#peaky blinders smut#peaky blinders scene#peaky blinders x reader#peaky blinders fluff#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fiction#tom hardy x reader
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Innocence, avoidance
Summary: Jason Todd cracks crass jokes and dirty comments like they’re his lifeblood. It turns out, he’s just getting it out of his system before he sees his little sister again. (Or: Marinette gloms onto Red Hood after her parent’s death, and there’s no way anyone can stop her from being with her older brother.)
___________________________________________________
Jason Todd, AKA Red Hood, is not the kind of man people go to when they want to complain about their life problems. They go to him when they want a quick, oftentimes violent solution; Red Hood isn’t exactly a renowned empath. In comparison to his other Bat Family counterparts, he is at least 10 times more crass and almost 15 times more violent.
It is accepted that although Red Hood makes situations turn out for the better, he is no shining paragon of human virtue and kindness. People trust him to watch their backs and not to fuck them over so long as they’re working within his very clearly defined set of values, but he’s just not the kind per person that anyone would entrust their kid to during their Friday date night.
Until somebody does.
The door to the warehouse is already open, and he has a gun in his hand, ready to threaten the little crowd he’s gathered today when a woman hops out of her car and shoves a pig-tailed girl with wide blue eyes and an almost blindingly neon pink outfit towards him.
“There you are, you weren’t at the drop site!” says the woman, who instantly begins to back away from the two of them once the little girl picks herself up off the ground that she landed on. Red Hood notes the license of the getaway car, making a mental reminder to deal with them later, but the car makes tracks. The little girl frowns at the disappearing car, eyes the gun in his hand, then decides that she’s going to stay put.
Red Hood looks at the rabble that has convened in the warehouse, down at the little girl, then back again. There are at least five people in the room that are eyeing the little girl greedily, and he’s sure that if he just lets her go, she’ll be captured by one of them faster than he can bat an eye. He doesn’t exactly have time to put the girl in a safe place, not when it’s taken him months and a good number of heads in order to draw these people here.
She looks wary of the gun and of him, but not scared. Everyone else? Half of them look like they’re about to burst out laughing, and the other half have looks that he’s eager to wipe off their faces.
“Aww, look at that! Hood has finally found his way into the dark side of the business. What’s next, prostitution?”
Without hesitation, he shoots with deadly accuracy at the man’s hand. The man keels, bending over and clenching his bloodied appendage. Other than the man’s screams, the room goes completely silent.
Red Hood casts another glance at the little girl, who has, slowly but surely managed to inch away from him and into a safer position. She’s holding onto her sparkly purple plastic backpack like it’s the only thing that’s keeping her alive. Smart kid, not to run. Or was it dumb? He wouldn’t shoot her, and he’d take out anyone else who tried to, but the girl didn’t know that. She probably just assumed that she was going to his next target.
“All of you shut up while I deal with this.” He inhales deeply and kneels down to get on eye level with the girl. Not that she can see much of his eyes, given his helmet, but still.
He has half a mind to go after the woman, but he’s not about to leave the little girl amongst the group of criminals that are gathered in the warehouse with him. Briefly, he wonders how the hell that couple even knew that he was going to be here tonight. He also wonders what he’s going to do with the kid. “What’s your name, kiddo?”
She looks up at him, hands clenched around a plastic pink backpack with some kid’s cartoon on the back, then looks out at the people that have gathered. There’s a moment of silence, and Red Hood is sure that she’s weighing her current options. Smart kid. Eventually, she shifts her body weight closer to him, apparently drawing the conclusion that he is the safer option than the other people who are here tonight. Smart kid.
“It’s Marinette, sir.”
No last name. Not sure if that’s a pointed decision to keep her identity at least partially concealed, or just because she doesn’t have one.
“And those weren’t your parents?” It stands to reason that the people in that care aren’t her parents, but he needs to make sure.
Marinette clenches her backpack tighter. “No, sir.”
“Where are they?” He has a sinking suspicion if those weren’t her parents, and she’s not up in tears, asking for a phone to call them, that--
“They’re dead, sir.”
Sometimes, Jason wishes he could be wrong on things like this.
“Then who were they? And don’t call me sir. Too formal.”
“My mom’s... second cousin, I think? I never met her before, but I got sent here anyway.”
One of the men shifts. He’s one of the men who Red Hood pegged as a possible child trafficker. Underneath his helmet, Jason’s eyes narrow. He now has a fairly good idea of how the couple figured out that he was going to be here tonight.
“Do you know how to get back home?”
At that, Marinette's mouth almost twitches up into a smile. “No sir. I don’t think there’s a home to go back to, anymore.”
Red Hood sighs. Putting the information presented to him together, he quickly comes to the conclusion that Marinette’s parents have died recently and that nobody in her immediate family has found out about their passing, or they don’t want her. Somehow, the couple picked her up-- possibly when she was going to a friend’s house, judging by the whole school girl look she has going on-- and thought she would fulfill the trafficking requirements laid out to them.
That means that there aren’t a lot of options available to her. He can redirect her to the foster care system, but everybody knows foster care messes up kids permanently. Even though she looks to be pretty street smart, he couldn’t just let her live out on the streets in good conscience. Her outfit looks too clean for her to ever have lived in poverty, and she definitely checks the box for a lot of the trafficking rings that have been popping up recently. Mixed descent, the possibility to be pretty when older, and very, very pure. She’d get picked up off the streets within hours if she just let her be.
He decided that he’s let her have the final say. “What do you think I should do in this situation?”
She shuffled her pink ballet clad shoes, eyes darting to the sides. He had to give the girl this much at least; even though she had the whole innocent look going for her, she was very aware of her surroundings. Her body language implied that she didn’t believe him to be that much of a threat— and in any other case, he’d fault her for that, but given that let their surroundings were a drug den he’d let it go— and tilted herself so she could have as many people in her sights as possible. “Sir, I think as long as you could get me out of here safely, I’ll figure out how to take care of myself.”
The man Jason was watching, the possible trafficker, tensed. Yeah, Jason is definitely going to have to take care of him later. This kind of a reaction as good as cements the suspicions he’s had.
“Tell you what, princess. Do you mind waiting outside for me? I’ll help you out once I’m done here.”
Marinette eyed the rest of the room. “How long will you take?”
She’s asking all the right questions. Maybe it will be easy for her to fit into the slums of Gotham.
“Not long,” Red Hood promised. “Ten minutes at most.”
The collection of people who have gathered in the warehouse all swallowed uncomfortably. Everybody knew that when Red Hood dealt with things quickly, it typically ended in copious amounts of bloodshed and shock.
“Okay,” Marinette paused, grip loosening on her backpack. “Ten minutes.
#
Red Hood doesn’t particularly want to have Marinette around for the violence that’s about to occur, but she’s already seen him shoot one person, so it’s too late to shield her innocence. And violence? It’s a slippery slope.
He makes quick work of the room; half of the people he brought out here, he kills off directly. The other half are made to watch as the people they’ve associated with for years die in front of their eyes. This is a power play. A way to… persuade them to reform. Because the people he’s left alive? Red Hood has left them alive for two reasons. One. They’re not nearly as bad as most of the higher ups in Gotham. Two. If he kills all of the people who have dabbled in anything bad, the chain will be completely messed up, and there will be too much room for unknown variables to make their way up the ranks. He wants people he can control. And the people he’s left alive? He can keep all of them in line.
Marinette is not waiting outside for him. They’re right next to Crime Alley. This is not going to end well.
#
He’ll give the little girl props for somehow managing to avoid his detection.
To be more precise, he’s hoping that she’s simply avoiding his detection, and hasn’t gotten swept up in something bad.
It takes Jason three hours-- three hours-- to find the girl who can’t be much older than ten. Probably not even ten, judging by her size.
“You’re lucky it’s me finding you, and not someone else, Pixie.” He finally catches a glance of her glaringly sparkly backpack, complete with fairies and unicorns covered in some sort of holographic overlay.
Marinette immediately backs up, looking definitively worse for the wear. She’s gained rips in her clothes and a nasty looking scraped knee. Her face loses all color when she sees him. “S- sorry, sir. I swear I wasn’t running away, it’s just that there was someone outside who tried to grab me, and--”
If Jason didn’t know better, he’d believe the girl.
However, he does have a decent number of connections, and those connections ensured that nobody was going to be able to come near the warehouse once his ‘meeting’ started. Though, he’ll have to have a talk with them, given that someone tried to pass the goods right before it started. Jason is fairly sure that the couple has been apprehended by now, but checking later tonight won’t hurt.
Which means Marinette made the decision to run.
Again, that would have been a very, very smart decision had she not found herself in Crime Alley of all places. It looks like she’s learned a little bit about why she should stay away from places like this.
“It’s fine, Pixie. Like I said earlier, just call me Red Hood, or Hood. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Marinette balks.
Jason sighs. “Look, I know it’s hard to believe, but you can trust me. I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. All I want is to see you safe.”
“But,” Marinette bites her lip. Her eyes drop to the guns at his side. That’s… that’s a good reason not to trust him, to be honest. If he were in her position, he’d already be running.
“Do you have anyone you can contact? Anyone you trust? I can take you to them.”
She’s starting to tear up, and god, Jason cannot deal with crying children. Marinette’s big, blue eyes and pigtails and her general smallness. He just can’t. “Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry. What, do you-- do you want a cookie or something? I can bring you to a bakery before we talk? Sweets are supposed to cheer kids up, right?”
Marinette lets out a watery laugh.
“I like macaroons,” she offers.
#
“So, how old are you?”
In the warmth of the bakery, Marinette looks markedly more relaxed. She went to the bathroom to clean her face and cut off, and now she looks like the poster child of one of those band aid ads. Lively, a little mischievous, and, you know, a child.
She takes a delicate bite of the shortbread cookie-- not a macaroon, there aren’t many reputable bakeries in Gotham that are close and have French pastries. “Nine and a half.”
Oh man, she’s younger than Replacement.
“You’ve really got no family here? None at all? No friends you can call?”
“No, I’m from France.”
Well, that certainly answers a lot of questions. But brings up additional ones. “You speak English very well.”
“Maman and Papa ran a very popular bakery. We got a lot of foreigners. Before we moved to Paris, we lived in New York.” She takes a sip of her drink, whipped cream stuck on her nose. “And I don’t remember anyone from New York. We moved to Paris when I was three.”
Jason sighs. “What do you want to do?”
“Maman said that if I were ever left on my own, my only job was to survive by any means.”
“That’s…” He tries to find the right words. “Interesting advice.”
In what parallel universe do parents of a bakery in Paris-- one of the major cities in the world with the lowest crime rates--tell their children to survive by any means?
“Did she tell you how?”
Marinette tilts her head, pigtails bouncing. “She told me to trust my instincts and never to trust the police.”
Great. That explains why she didn’t ask for someone’s phone to call the police. Not that the police in Gotham are the best people to go to for a case like Marinette’s, but then again, there’s not really anybody good to go to for a case like hers.
Vague advice is the best way to get a kid killed. But since Marinette isn’t already dead, it stands to reason that her instincts haven’t failed her yet, and he really does have no clue what to do with her.
He briefly contemplates taking her to Bruce, but strikes the idea down almost instantly. Marinette fits all of the requirements to become a Robin. Tragic backstory, black hair, blue eyes. He’s not going to put another child into Bruce’s hands just so he can ruin their life by not doing his job. Besides, Bruce doesn’t know he’s alive yet, and he wants to keep it that way for now.
“Then what do your instincts tell you to do?”
Does he feel like an idiot for asking a nine year old that? Yes, but what else is he supposed to do? Taking care of kids was never part of the job description when he signed up to be Red Hood. (Then again, it wasn’t like there was a job description to begin with.)
Marinette takes another bite of one of the cookies on her plate. “They tell me to stick close to you.”
Even better. She’s imprinted on him.
@jasonette-july-2k20
#you bet your ass marinette grows up to kick ass and take names#does the summary fit the fic? not really but none of my summaries do#jasonette july#jasonette#how do you tag platonic ships#platonic!jasonette#jason todd#marinette dupain cheng#maribat#miraculous ladybug#dcu#innocence#child!marinette
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7 best cheap golf simulators Under $1000 in 2021 – [Tested]
The golfer would love to have their own golf simulator setup, but unfortunately many aren’t able to afford mid-range simulators because the mid-range simulator price near about $5000. On the other hand, many golfers want to practice day or night but aren’t willing to pay more than $1000.
If you belong in this category then this article suits you. However, as golf simulator technology has advanced, very cheap solutions have appeared in the market.
There are some cheapest golf simulators available in the market to help you improve or enjoy golf in this COVID-19 situation, and in this article, I’ll review and compare our picks for the best golf simulator for under $1000 and some even are less than $500 bucks.
Things you should keep in mind before choosing best cheap golf simulators
Before we go further, you ought to understand that you'll get a limited experience with these sorts of cheap golf simulators. Some devices measures some shot data, simulation software, and maybe a net or mat, but not much more than this. Detailed shot data and more extra features you will get on a high-budgets simulator like SkyTark Golf Simulator, Trackman Golf, etc. But you don’t get advanced features on the cheap golf simulators. However, you’ll still get good experience and these cheap golf simulators can get your job done in terms of improving your game. We have tested all of those simulator setups. Some offer fewer features than others, but all of them give an exceptional home/outdoor golf simulators experience for the cost.
1. OptiShot 2 Golf Simulator for Home | Golf in A Box Series
Key Features:
Expanding library with 15 world-class golf courses.
Ability to play up to 4 players.
3D realistic environment.
Hit all shots from tee to hole.
Play with your own setup.
Practice shots from anywhere on the course.
Size: 1.5M long x 1.2M wide
High-quality dense foam and turf
Lightweight, easy to store, and has firm foam-based.
What’s Included:
Golf Simulation Software by Dancin’ Dogg
Infrared Optical Golf Simulator Swing Pad
OptiShot Practice Net.
OptiShot Hitting Mat
USB Cable, 10 feet long.
2 foam practice balls.
2 adjustable rubber tees.
Pros
Best visuals and course options
Training academy adds to the practice options
Only true studio system under $1000.
Comes as a package box and just plug it in and play
Swing stats with distance, speed, path, and clubface angle
Play online against other golfers
Cons
Doesn’t track actual ball flight, so you can miss launch angle
Graphics aren’t as good as other simulator sets
2. Rapsodo Mobile Launch Monitor for Golf Indoor and Outdoor
Key Features:
Professional-level accuracy: Distance accuracy is within 2.5% similar to Trackman, which is more than $30,000.
Set up within the 30s — Simply open the app, connect to your device via Bluetooth and start playing.
The instant real-time video feedback comes with a shot trace and data overlay which makes it easier to understand cause and effect.
Access your history to view averages, trajectory, dispersion, and standard deviation for each of your clubs.
Gps satellite view.
You can use it at home and outdoor also.
Pros
Very cheap price, under $500.
High quality and accurate
Whatever you needed, included in the box.
Can use your own sets
100% portability
Cons
Only compatible with ios(iPhone, iPad) devices.
Need a computer for a permanent home setup.
3. Rapsodo R-Motion and The Golf Club Simulator and Swing Analyzer
Key Features:
Play real rounds of golf with your friends by attaching your own clubs.
15 top courses included.
Incredibly accurate club and ball data.
Runs on your PC — no launch monitor or projector needed. 4 hours long battery life.
Extremely easy to use — just provide your own mat and net and start playing!
Play any time, no matter the weather.
What’s Included:
1 sensor
Clip
USB dongle
Charging cord
Pros
The incredible accuracy of the simulator
High-quality graphics
Software quality is also good
Cons
Don’t support Mac
Some users failed to connect to PC
4. FlightScope Mevo — Portable Personal Launch Monitor for Golf
Key Features:
You can use it at home, on the driving range, or even on the course.
MEASURE: It provides accurate real-time performance data to help you train and improve with every club in the bag.
EVALUATE Data parameters that include carrying distance, clubhead speed, ball speed, smash factor, vertical launch angle, spin, apex height, and flight time.
Automatically capture data and video on your mobile device.
Save and compare data over time to trace your progress.
Your videos and data are captured and stored automatically, allowing you to review each session, share together with your coach, and analyze your progress over time.
Real-Time Performance Data includes:
Carry distance
Clubhead speed
Ball speed
Spin rate
Launch angle
Smash factor
Apex height
Flight time
Pros
Very affordable
Usable on all OS
Truly portable system, using GPS for swing data analysis
A small device fits in your pocket or golf bag.
Cons
Accuracy can be affected sometimes by monitor placement.
Metallic stickers must be attached to every ball hit, which can take time
5. tittle X Home Golf Simulator 2021
Key Features:
The best home cheapest golf simulator has E6 Connect with 4K ultra-high definition.
Provides real screen golf experiences in various practice modes.
An impressive reaction rate of 0.1 sec provides no delay in data transfer.
The smart stick offers the ability to play golf at home.
Up to 8 people can play golf with this simulator.
Title X home simulator analyzes your swing with a fancy designed lightweight sensor.
What’s Included:
Title X Device
Swing Stick
E6 Connect Product Key
Charger Cable and Manual
Multi Clip and Bands
Fixed 4 Clips
Pros
Simple design, easy to use
12 courses included with purchase
Instant, live feedback on every swing.
Cons
Without a computer, you can analyze data
6. Phigolf Mobile and Home Smart Golf Game Simulator
Key Features:
Connect the app to your TV and immerse yourself in realistic golf courses available fully HD.
Enjoy a round of golf without the necessity for extra setup. Use the swing trainer included within the Phigolf WGT Edition and begin playing without nets or balls.
With the swing trainer measuring only 2 ft, Phigolf WGT Edition allows you to enjoy golf in your own front room.
Bad weather won’t stop you from having fun. Play golf anytime, anywhere; challenge your friends online — all at the comfort of your house.
What’s Included:
Game Simulator
Swing Stick
Pros
Realistic
Can play in your home
Has multiple practice options
Really cheap
Cons
Doesn’t allow the use of real clubs or balls
Can only be used indoors and not on range or course
7. Matro Home Screen Golf Practice and Playing Simulator Tmax Swing Baro
Key Features:
You can play golf at your home or office or wherever together with your loved ones at any time.
Courses and Ranges Are ahead of You — This amazing unit can bring the golf courses and driving ranges into your home or office, wherever you’re in by TV connection.
Easy reference to TV and Just Play Golf — Connect main body with TV by HDMI cable and just play golf, no need internet or computer.
Perfect Equipment for The Novice and Experienced Golfer — it’s great to play and practice golf for both the novice and therefore the experienced golfer.
What’s Included:
Playing Simulator Tmax Swing Baro
Sensor, sensor clip
Practice stick
Pros
Multi-functional
Usable at home
Very easy to set-up
Affordable
Cons
Doesn’t allow the use of real clubs or balls
Can’t be used on range or course
Conclusion
Golf simulators became a lot more accessible and affordable over the past decade, and this suggests more golfers than ever before are ready to have their own personal setup.
Even a cheap golf simulator is often a huge boon to your golf toolkit. Finding a simulator package that may meet your needs is certainly possible with some research.
Each of the simulator options reviewed above offers excellent value for the price. We’ve given you the information you would like to create a decision; now it’s up to you to go the remainder of the way.
While it’s likely that no golf simulator setup will tick all of your boxes, some will come pretty near to doing so. If you wish for an excellent better experience, consider increasing your budget.
We highly recommend reading consumer and professional reviews of golf simulators to accumulate useful insights on how they really perform. this can assist you a lot within the decision-making process.
FAQ
What type of computer do I need? Can it be used on a Mac/iPhone/iPad?
Each system will have its own list of minimum system requirements. generally, though, you’ll need Windows 7 or later, 4gig of RAM, and a minimum of 1gig of disk drive space. an honest graphics card is going to be required to point out the courses in high definition, and you’ll need a powerful processor just like the Intel i5 or newer. Most of the listed systems here will work on Mac also as Windows PCs. However, you ought to double-check with the manufacturer before making a sale.
Will, I should buy these golf simulators?
No. Each listed simulator comes with everything you want to have to play, with the exception of mobile apps and computers. Of course, you’ll also need your own golf clubs to play, and you’ll always prefer to purchase more courses.
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To Be Lonely
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Gender Neutral!Reader (College AU)
Word Count: 1.4k
Warnings: mentions of alcoholism, feelings of loneliness and anxiety
Summary: On a late night run, Bucky meets someone who actually understands how he feels.
A/N: hello friends! it has been awhile since i have posted an actual one shot, so i decided a good comeback would be my entry for @captainscanadian ‘s 1k writing challenge! i picked the College AU for our Buck Boi and idk where this came from, but it came from a deep place i guess aldskfjdsl i hope y’all like it!
Feedback is always welcomed and appreciated (: x
Bucky was fortunate because he never truly knew what it meant to be alone. Growing up, he always had Steve by his side. Sometimes that meant getting his ass kicked behind the school dumpsters, but at least they did that together, too. Everyone in the city knew who Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were - two teens with charming smiles and blue eyes that could convince the older crowd into giving them just about anything. Free ice cream. Clothing that fit Bucky just right but could swallow Steve whole when he was still half his friend's size. Fresh produce to bring back to their mothers. It was always different but still a welcome perk of being the iconic duo.
When they separated for college - Steve choosing to go to an art school in California, and Bucky finding himself in the halls of Stanford - they still kept in touch, but he found solace in the friendship of his roommates.
Sam was full of sarcasm and toothy grins that made anyone around him smile too. He and Bucky had a habit of butting heads over small stuff like who left a spoon in the sink or whose turn it was to buy more milk, but they both knew they'd do anything for each other. Peter, or Quill as he preferred to be called, wasn't in their dorm often, but when he was, they always had a good time. Bucky wouldn't trust Quill to wake him up for an exam, but he knew there was no one better to go to if he was looking for a place to party for the night. The three of them were incredibly different, yet they got along just fine.
He made friends in different classes too; Wanda in his environmental biology class; Gamora, Quill's girlfriend, in his mythology class; and Scott, who he met sleeping in the stairwell behind the library one day.
Wherever Bucky went, he always had someone with him. He was never alone.
But, on nights when he felt his chest tighten and the breath catch in his throat, he couldn't understand why he always felt lonely. His mother used to remind him that being alone and being lonely were two different things, but he didn't understand how it was possible - how he could feel like he was missing something despite sitting in a room full of people.
It was another one of those nights for him. Sleep never came, and the more he tossed and turned in bed, the more frustrated he became. The only thing he could think of to get his mind off of the loneliness he felt was to go on a run, so he quickly changed into appropriate workout attire and dashed out of his apartment.
He ignored the fact that it was two in the morning and Sam, who happened to still be up studying, knew better than to ask where he was going. Sometimes the guy just needed to clear his head, and there was nothing wrong with that.
Bucky ran until his lungs burned. Every breath he took felt like glass shards in his chest, but he relished in the feeling because it distracted him from the thoughts racing through his mind. He only stopped to take a breather when black spots started to dance in the corner of his eyes, and he had the campus fountain to lean back on. The moment he sat down, he could feel his muscles practically sigh in relief, and he had to laugh. For being as fit as he was, he still had limits. What a way to remember he was human after all.
The cool spray of the fountain hit his face, and he leaned back ever so slightly to get a little bit more of it. It was incredibly refreshing; he wasn't against sitting there for hours, but he knew someone would come out and think he was high on something. High on adrenaline, maybe, but certainly not high on anything he wanted to be high on.
"I wouldn't fall asleep in that position."
Your sudden presence made Bucky jump and nearly fall into the fountain. You weren't there when he first ran up, which meant you must have stumbled upon him sitting there while he was enjoying the cool mist. The fact that he didn't hear you coming worried him. Clearly, he needed to work on becoming more aware of his surroundings.
"Speaking from experience?" He chuckled and leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees. He tried to will himself to get up, but his muscles refused.
"Actually, yes," you replied with a smile. "I was so exhausted after a lab one day, I fell asleep sitting up and tumbled straight into the water. I'm pretty sure my picture is still plastered all over Twitter somewhere."
"Sorry to hear that."
"Don't be. It was hilarious."
You gestured towards the spot next to him, silently asking if you could sit there. Bucky wasn't sure why you wanted to spend time with him when you didn't know him, but he wasn't going to say no. As weird as it sounded, your presence was comforting. Made him feel like he wasn't running from something but running towards you instead.
A small smile spread across your face as you sat down. You dipped your fingers into the fountain for a moment, quietly watching the ripples grow bigger and bigger until they finally disappeared. You did this a few times before turning your attention back to Bucky. He wondered if this was something you liked to do - something that calmed you on your worst nights. He even started to feel bad because he might have stumbled on your private spot. Not that a fountain in middle of campus was entirely private, but it must be nicer at this time of night.
"Can I ask you something?" Bucky felt the heat rise in his cheeks when you turned to look at him. He wasn't sure if he should have just enjoyed the comfortable silence, but there was so much he wanted to know about you.
"Make it good," you hummed. "Cause if it's lame, I might not answer it."
He chuckled. "I just wanted to know why you were out here."
"You want an honest answer or one that makes you feel comfortable?"
"Honest."
You sighed and started to pick at the frayed edges of the hole in your jeans. It looked like you were debating on telling the truth. It wasn't as if you really owed him an honest answer. Bucky was a stranger, someone you only met because he was about to pass out. He offered you no information about himself, so why would you?
He was about to tell you to forget about it, but you started to talk and cut him off.
"My roommates are throwing a party, and they brought a lot booze. The smell was starting to get to me, and I knew I needed to get out before I relapsed," you confessed softly. "I know it sounds ridiculous given that I'm not that old, but I'm an alcoholic."
Bucky shook his head. "It's not ridiculous. And the fact that you could assess the situation and walk away means you're doing better than you probably think you are."
"I appreciate that, but it's not that impressive. I've only been sober for a few months, which my sponsor says is a good thing but sometimes it doesn't really feel like it." You ran your hands down your face and quickly gave yourself a little shake. He didn't say anything; he figured you were trying to push out all the bad thoughts. "Well. That was depressing! So, tell me, why are you out here?"
"Honest?" You nodded, and Bucky chuckled. It wasn't going to get cheerier from here. "I was running from my thoughts. Sometimes I think my brain is out to get me. Always making me feel lonelier than I should, which doesn't always seem fair. I have great friends and a supportive family, so why do I feel lonely? Why can I never go to bed feeling happy?"
Another silence fell between you two. His confession didn't seem to faze you. You respected the fact that he was as honest with you as you were with him, especially when he didn't have to be. He could have lied - told you some bullshit story about how his roommates were hooking up with each other, and he couldn't handle hearing it anymore. But he didn't. He told you his truth, and you liked that about him. You liked that you could trust him despite meeting him less than thirty minutes ago.
"Do you feel lonely right now?" You asked after a beat.
Bucky exhaled, a quick breath that almost sounded like a laugh. "Now that I think about it, no. I don't."
You smiled over at him, a genuine smile that made his entire chest feel warm.. "Neither do I."
#cbc1kwc#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x gn!reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes oneshot#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes#college!bucky#college au#gender neutral reader
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Information on Amy.
(Be warned it's a ~little bit~ long, any other pieces of information you want to know I'll gladly answer if you ask.)
~General Information~
Fandom: Toy Story.
Name: Amy the Ragdoll.
Nickname, if any: Amy, Ames, and Doll-Face(usually by more villainous characters or used in a joking manner).
Gender: Female.
Sexuality: ??? (I mean I know the gender of who she has a crush on, but I'm unsure on what her actual sexuality should be tbh)
Age: Mentally, mid-twenties in the first story second movie, thirties to forties in the third and fourth. Physically, she doesn’t have an age, but in regards to when she was made (the 1950’s) makes her fifty to sixty.
City they currently live in: San Francisco, apparently that’s where Toy Story takes place.
Any pets: Would Rex count? He just follows her around like a nervous puppy.
Current occupation: I mean she’s practically a therapist, but she’s a toy and she only treats Rex so it probably doesn’t count lol
~Physical Appearance~
Height: 10 inches.
Body type: Stocky, but a bit gangly too, similar to Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
Eye colour: Black.
Skin tone: Light.
Clothing style: Pale green/turquoise shirt with short puffed sleeves, with a denim dungaree dress with a daisy print in the centre over it. She wears yellow rain boots.
Hairstyle: No style, it’s just there. It’s messy and gets in her face easily and is made out of dark brown thin string.
~Speech/Language/Communication~
Amy speaks quietly and politely, rambles a bit if left without a reply or under pressure, very nervous in front of intimidating characters.
First language: English.
Learned languages: A bit of Spanish (Ya’ll remember Toy Story 3!)
Accent: American.
Pitch of voice: High, but soft, not quite annoying, unless she’s stressed, then it gets very pitchy and shrill.
~Behaviour/Habits~
Amy tends to just stand there when she can’t find anything to do, and will immediately try to find Rex, Hamm, Buzz or Jessie if surrounded by strangers (Though she’s not sure if it’s for their comfort or her own) Amy is very polite.
Spending habits: She doesn’t like to be made a fuss of at all, the very fact of someone giving something to her is unnerving (even if the thing never costed anything at all) and she feels compelled to give the giver something in return.
Morning routine: She gets up same time as the others, but wishes she could stay in bed a bit longer though. Before she came to Andy’s room, her sleep pattern was all over the place.
Bedtime routine: Similar to above, now she goes to bed the same time as the others, but before she just slept and got up willy-nilly.
Nervous habits: Amy will try to find Rex if she’s nervous, and she’ll pretend it’s because she’s worried for him, which is quite true, but she also just feels most safe with him. Speaking of, Amy will let Rex hold her hand and squish it whenever he or Amy is nervous, it’s calming to the both of them.
Bad habits: Not a very good exerciser, but then again, she’s spend basically half her life in a small attic, so I’ll give her a break.
Skills/talents: She’ very logical, mind-over-matter, (mostly, very good at calming others down and/or convincing them. She’s very good at spelling and knows quite a lot of words, some of which others haven’t even heard of.
Hobbies: Reading, talking (especially with Rex, Jessie or Hamm), and generally just lazing about or walking around somewhere, on her own or with a friend.
~The Past~
Amy’s first owner was a little girl called Alice. Alice loved nothing more than to read Amy stories (Mostly fairy tales), but of course, Alice grew up like all kids do, and she left Amy in the attic for someone else to have her.
Amy waited for many years, and all that time she’d never given up that someone would find her.
She thought she’s hit the jackpot when Andy and his family move into Alice’s old house, but they don’t go up into the attic to collect her. Some weeks later, though, Andy’s mother brings a set of boxes filled with junk into the attic and leaves. Woody, Buzz, Slinky, and Rex were trapped in one of the boxes (Call me a cheater but this part was actually inspired by a Toy Story comic, where those four toys get stuck in the attic that way and have to escape. It struck me odd that they never met at least one new friend there, so I made one. It was also my first story, I needed some inspiration!)
Amy, in a fit of panic, goes and hides.
But then she’s found by Rex as he and the others try to find a way out.
They then decide to let the strange, dust-covered ragdoll come back to Andy’s rom with them. (well, Rex did, anyway.)
Home town: Would Alice’s old room count? But it’s now Andy’s Room, so it won’t count will it?
Happy or sad childhood: Pretty normal to be honest, as normal a life as a toy could have anyway. And as for sadness, having spent all that time on her own for all those years, having missed out on so much, is a little sad. But Amy made sure she never became bitter over it or used it as an excuse for anything.
Earliest memory: Waking up in her toy store, with a friend of hers for company (a ragdoll Prospector, a much as she remembers) and as she gets bought by Alice’s Auntie, she says she hopes he gets picked up by a kid. (Unbeknownst to her, she would meet him again in a while to find out he never got to experience it)
Saddest memory: One, being left by Alice, yet being so happy for her and how much she’s grown up, if she could cry tears of joy for her owner, she would. Two, some (or most) of the days she spent waiting for a new owner to arrive. And three, watching Rex have a mental breakdown of anxiety.
Happiest memory: One, the time she and Alice went to the park, (Amy absolutely adores nature) Two after sliding down a drainpipe to get to Andy’s room, and three, having known she’d helped her friend out.
Significant events: Being bought, being left in an attic, being rescued from the attic, while gaining some new friends.
~Family~
The entirety of Andy’s room, whether they like it or not, they’re all in this together and are some kind of mish-mash, found family in a sense.
Siblings: I’ve been thinking of giving Amy a brother (since I based her on Raggedy Ann, a matching bootleg Raggedy Andy seems reasonable) bur I’m unsure about it, since I’ve already mapped out Amy’s entire series of stories (Around six or seven all together, so far I’m currently writing only the third) and I can only fit him in the fifth or sixth if I can.
~Relationships~
Romantically? I’d like to say she has a crush on Rex, I don’t know why I thought of it, I was contemplating it one day as I sketched a rough (and terrible) sketch of her, and I drew Rex too because he’s just so fun to draw and I wanted to make a scale for Amy’s size, and one of my friends (who had been watching me) immediately said “I ship it!” and well, the rest is history, I made the decision to ship it too.
Friends: Jessie, Hamm, Buzz, and Rex are her closet friends, but she’d like to say that all the Gang are her friends. Later on she becomes good friends with Mr. Prickle Pants, Buttercup, Trixie and Totoro, and she absolutely loves the peas and Forky.
Best friend(s): Hamm, Mr. Prickle Pants, Jessie, and Rex.
What do people like about them? Amy’s pretty easy to talk to, she’s polite and attentive and will sit in companionable silence with someone if they need it. But she won’t hesitate to give hard truths and advice if it’s needed.
What do people dislike about them? Amy is quite a doormat, if someone is rude to her or breaches anything she just lets it happen, and sometimes she’s too indecisive about her own stuff, unsure whether she’s going to offend others or not over the smallest things, which annoys others quite a bit.
~Mentality/Personal Beliefs~
Amy is a toy of logic, and though she believes others can do it if they set their minds to it, she doesn’t quite believe in herself. She believes she must follow the rules of being a toy at all times, no matter what.
Phobias: Dust. She hates it. It took a good five weeks to brush all the dust out her hair and clothes, and even so there’s still some in her pockets and places she can’t reach. And being alone, too. Now she can’t be alone for more than an hour before she starts to get antsy and nervous. And for a short time books gave her a strange tiredness, after reading them for so long and for so many years she couldn’t even stand the sight of them.
But of course, not for long, since Amy found out Andy had a copy of Red’s Dream by a Mr. William Reeves.
Optimist or pessimist: Depends on the situation really, if her mind can’t come up with a solution, then there’s no point in trying anymore. Unless someone else can think of something, that is.
Personal philosophies: “You are here to make good things happen. No person here is made for one reason only, or even only one. There’s no point in pretending to be someone you’re not just for the attention of others, no matter how cool they are. We should find are own meaning, as we’re the only ones who have control of it.
It’ll take a while, but I swear, it’ll be worth it.”
Biggest dream/wish: Amy wants nothing more than to find meaning for herself, but finds it rather hard to do so. Of course, that doesn’t mean she’ll settle for someone else’s meaning. As cheesy as it sounds, she just wants an adventure. She doesn’t necessarily want to be the hero, though, she’s just happy to go along with the ride so long as it gets her out the house for a few hours. She also, above all else, wants Rex to find meaning too, even if she never does, it would be nice to know that he had.
Greatest strength(s): Persuasion, story-telling, logic, and good grammar.
Biggest flaw: Despite being a ragdoll, Amy can’t sew because of her fingerless hands, which are just soft mittens in shape. Amy is also quite a doormat, as I said before, so if her calm persuasion and reasoning doesn’t work, she’s left to be walked all over.
Regrets: Staying in that dratted attic too long, the window was open, she could’ve just climbed out, but no, she had to stay there for some mind-rotting decades. But if she had just escaped, she would never have met her new friends. Amy just wishes she had met them a lot sooner.
Achievements: Escaped the attic, slid down a drainpipe, leapt onto the windowsill (though nearly knocking Woody and Buzz over in the process) stopped her friend from having a panic attack, and managed to remember the entire Dictionary and is able to recite it down from A to Z, and even Z to A.
Secrets: Not much, just strange feelings for one of her friends, but it’s not much of a secret, Bo knows, and Mr. Potato Head and Hamm could see it from a mile away, and the others have their suspicions.
Goals: Read the entirety of Andy’s (and later Bonnie’s) bookshelves, become more confident in herself, have her own book-worthy adventure, and figure out what those strange feelings for her friend is.
~Likes/Favourites~
Favourite colour: Even before meeting Rex, Amy’s favourite colour was always green. Every time Alice had taken her to the park, Amy adored watching the sunlight pour through the leaves with a golden-green glow.
Favourite book(s): Because it’s sentimental to her, being her owner’s favourites, she loves Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Peter Pan, and The Wizard of Oz. They all hold similar plots (a little girl in a blue dress goes to a fantasy land, has a few adventures, and then leaves said fantasy land to go home to her family and responsibilities) but it reminds Amy of her old owner Alice (who was actually named after Alice from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland) and their playtimes together.
Favourite Book Quotation(s):
“Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.”
“There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is facing danger when you are afraid.”
Favourite movie: Amy does much prefer books, since they allow her to imagine the setting and characters in her own way, but doesn’t mind movies, and isn’t picky on what they watch, though she does quite like horror films.
Favourite song: Amy likes any kind of music, new or old.
Favourite game: Amy never really cared for games, the competitiveness always bothered her and stressed her out. But she’s more than happy to watch Rex play his video games and cheer him on.
~Relationships with other characters~
~Rex~
- Hit it off pretty quickly.
- Amy helps him with his anxiety, and helps him find confidence in himself, she acts as a certain therapist to him.
- Both become very stressed without the other around.
- Rex will hold and knead at Amy’s hands sometimes; it calms him down.
- Rex will let Amy ride on his back if she’s tired or needs to see something (Because she’s so short).
- One of them can basically be talking about the most boring-est things ever, yet still the other will hang on to their every word.
~Jessie~
- Became friends pretty quickly.
- Will drag Amy along anywhere.
- Get along fairly well.
- Jessie does the talking and Amy does the planning.
- Jessie always pranks the other toys and makes Amy tag along (along with Hamm).
- Introvert/Extrovert dynamic for sure.
- Both were left in alone for years so like to find solace in each other.
~Hamm~
- Hamm begrudgingly warmed up to the timorous ragdoll.
- Surprisingly good pals.
- Have full conversations without saying anything.
- Like to sit and look out of the window together.
- Hamm makes Amy laugh when she really shouldn’t (mainly when he makes fun of the other toys, mainly Woody).
- Hamm makes fun of Amy having a crush on Rex every once in a while, though he doesn’t mean any harm.
~The Potato Heads~
- Mr. doesn’t really interact with Amy much, but finds her surprisingly tolerable, if a bit high-strung and annoying.
- Like Hamm, Mr. makes Amy laugh at the most wrong moments.
- She and Mrs. Are quite good friends, and she sometimes lets Amy take care of the aliens if she and her husband are busy.
~Woody~
- Are aquianteces.
- Don’t exactly interact much, even though the whole room practically revolves around him, in Amy’s opinion, though she would never say it to his face.
~Buzz~
- Amy thinks he’s super cool (then again, he is Buzz Lightyear, he practically invented coolness)
- Both are just as clueless as one another when it comes to social cues and interactions.
- Amy helps him with vocabulary and spelling every once in a while.
~Mr. Prickle Pants~
- Are absolute BFF’s.
- Go back and forth with book quotes to the point of driving the other toys insane.
~Bo Peep~
- Amy's not exactly sure if Bo has befriended her or not.
- (She has)
- They later become good friends.
- Amy misses their talks, Bo was one of the only toys she could talk to that could keep a secret.
#amy the ragdoll#toy story#oc#toy story oc#character information#original character#oc's#ocs#character development#fan character
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Found Family
So I don’t post original work here, but here I am...
This can also be found on my Wattpad and AO3 both are @another_cancer
For Maribat March: Day 1 Theme: Found Family
No Ship
Bruce 46
Dick 27
Jason 22
Tim 20
Marinette 18
Damian 13
When Marinette moved to Gotham 3 months ago she never expected it to go so well. So didn’t expect it to fail, she just figured she’d live like the average Gotham citizen, glum, angry, and dark. Instead, her business is taking off and she had friends and family in Gotham. People that cared about her and people she cared about.
It started a week after she arrived in Gotham. She applied for an entry-level job at Wayne Enterprises and had just received news of her hiring. She was as excited as someone who got a job as a secretary got. Eventually, Marinette wanted to go to university and get a degree, but it was on the back burner for the time being. For now, she was relying on her basic skills in human decency. Which is more than some of her ex-classmates could say.
Marinette left everything in Paris. Her parents practically disowned her after the reveal, and they had been the only ones keeping her. Well besides Adrien and Chat who she now knew was the same person. But, he moved to London to be with his family after the reveal.
God the damn reveal. The reveal ruined her life because Paris was being protected by children and people didn’t like living with that knowledge. Even if Ladybug and Chat had finally defeated Hawkmoth, even if Ladybug and Chat had taken care of the city for years. The two had given up their childhood to be under-appreciated in the long run. Then Fu took the miraculous and it was all just over. Gone just like that, so she left.
But back to where it started. A week after she moved to Gotham and a day before she started her new job at Wayne Enterprises. She was at a small cafe near her new job. It happened right after she took the first bite out of the breakfast sandwich she had ordered.
The Scarecrow entered with some goons.
“Well, this shall do,” he said to no one in particular, “20 people, the perfect sample for my new fear toxin, anyone want to go first?” No one spoke up and Marinette was already panicking.
She did her research. And she had no interest in being drugged and forced to see her fears play out. So she went into Ladybug mode and accessed the situation. 20 hostages, 6 goons, and the Scarecrow. Not every goon had a weapon. The two guarding the door had guns and one more had one aimed at the hostages.
While accessing the situation Marinette appeared calm to Scarecrow. He didn’t like calm people. He nodded over to his goons tilting his head towards the blunette they got the message. And so did she. Marinette froze. She knew there was no cure here.
A needle was injected into her neck. Her fears came to life.
She was back in Paris. The final battle. But this isn’t a memory. This isn’t how it happened.
“Chat!” she screams.
Hawkmoth has him and she lungs at the villain. Let go of him. Gabriel gets hit right in the jaw, there was enough power behind it to make him stubble over releasing Chat.
Marinette delivers a second punch and a third, they keep coming and with it, she yells, “That’s for ruining my life, and that’s for ruining your son’s life.”
Eventually, he’s out cold and she’s curled up into a ball.
That’s when another needle enters her neck. She reaches for the arm behind her and twists it, only to see Red Robin, one of Gotham’s vigilantes.
“It’s the antidote,” he says trying to calm the girl. She nods.
That was the first step in finding her new family. Six days later the second encounter happened with one Dick Grayson. Dick recognized the girl from a clip he had seen of a petite girl taking down Scarecrow while under the influence of the fear toxin. Tim had done some research to find out her name was Marinette Dupain-Cheng and she was working for Wayne Enterprise. So here she was at her desk while he combs the building looking for a sleep-deprived Tim.
“Can I help you with something?” Marinette asked him.
Dick was staring. Shit. “Sorry, ma’am. I’m just looking for my brother, dark hair, blue eyes, sleep-deprived, have you seen him around?”
“Oh, you must be Mr. Drake’s brother. He picked up his coffee and went up to his office.
“Thank you, miss…” Dick knew her name but didn’t want it to seem weird.
“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, but just Marinette is fine.”
“You were the girl on the news right? Involved in a Scarecrow attack?”
Marinette’s eyes went wide she did not expect that question. She didn’t realize the event was televised. Then it hit her that’s why most of her co-workers were looking at her strangely the last couple of days. They watched her knock a rouge out cold. Her fears were scary to them. They were even scared of her. Except for Tim Drake the freakin CEO who had no problem talking to her in the morning about coffee.
“Yeah,” she responded, “I didn’t know it was televised, but that makes a lot of sense.”
“It was a pretty badass takedown.”
She let out a snort, “Thanks.”
If only her encounters with the bats and Waynes ended there. Nope, the next one happened two weeks later. At this point, Dick visited the office quite often to see Tim and have a conversation with Mari. And Tim had been trading coffee recipes with her. She even signed up for a kickboxing class, it became an outlet.
Jason Todd was in her kickboxing class.
Most people had already forgotten about the scarecrow incident so when she arrived at the class most people did a double-take at her size. That was until she got to kickbox there was power behind every punch and kick she delivered to the bag. She was fierce. Jason was amazed.
On the way out he asked her, “Where’d you learn to fight like that, Pixie?”
It caught her off guard, but she answered the question, “Paris, learned when I was younger for self-defense.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie. She learned by experience starting when she was 13 to defend herself and the rest of her city from akumas. But that news never left Paris and she wasn’t going to change that. Here her life was finally normal.
“Cool, we should spar together sometime,” Jason said.
So they did and she kicked his ass. Then they started hanging out. Eventually, he invited her to the manor. She was shocked on arrival. She did not realize Jason was loaded. This was the kind of place she expected from someone like Tim, a CEO. Jason had told her he grew up as a street kid until he got adopted. But this shock couldn’t even compare to the shock that ran through her when she walked through the door to find Tim, Dick, and Jason.
“Mari! Jason your friend is Marinette and you didn’t say anything?” Tim yelled at Jason.
“Wait you guys know Pixie?” Jason asked.
“She works at Wayne Enterprise,” Dick stated.
“Well, I am aware of that, we are friends. We talk about things,” Jason said, “but I wasn’t aware you knew all the employees there. I shouldn’t be surprised though Pixie is really cool and her work ethics are crazy, yet extremely organized.”
The conversation of who knows who went on for a bit. Eventually, they ended up all hanging out and this was only the first time she visited the manor. She met Bruce and Damian on her 3rd visit when she stayed for dinner.
“So Marinette, did you leave Paris due to Hawkmoth?” Bruce asked at dinner.
She froze, “You know?”
“Yes. I heard it had been dealt with.”
“How much do you know?”
Everyone at the table was a bit confused by the question. It was clear she was being defensive. But why. What was she hiding?
“There was an emotional terrorist wasn’t there?” Damian bluntly asked.
“That’s all you know?” Marinette asked.
They weren’t supposed to know this information, it was all confidential reserved to Parisians only. Did they know she was Ladybug? That was the real question on her mind. Would this change anything?
She ended up explaining what happened in Paris. She told them about Hawkmoth and about being Ladybug. Having her identity revealed, being disowned and all the backlash she received. Damian suddenly approved of her while Jason was outraged. Dick was shocked, and Tim sat there with this smug look on his face.
“She’s one of us?” Jason asked.
“What do you mean by one of us?” Marinette questioned in return.
The room looked at Jason, “What she was going to find out eventually, I mean look at her dark hair, blue eyes, she’ll fit right in. Bruce will probably pull out adoption papers by the end of the week. And if not someone will eventually spill.”
“Hate to admit it, but Jason has a point.”
Then it clicked in Marinette’s head. “Oh my god. You guys are vigilantes. You guys are the bats, aren’t you?”
Everyone but Damian gave a grin. Now 3 months after moving to Gotham Marinette has had adoption papers shoved into her hands several times and ended up moving into the manor. She gained a family. And got to be a vigilante.
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day 10 - reverse crush
my heart’s in overdrive, and, you’re behind the steering wheel.
tumblr month: @auyeahaugust
links: ao3 | ff.net
EVERYONE expects his answer to be Ladybug.
Because it's always Ladybug. The savior of Paris. The one who can undo all the damage. The one who always brings hope wherever she goes. The face of the superhero movement. (One can argue that Chat Noir is equally as important, and he definitely believes it to be true, but the question, in the end, is who his superhero crush is— and as far as Adrien's concerned, he can't have a crush on himself.
Though the apparent adrichat shippers beg to differ.)
In any case, Ladybug's not the answer.
Only one girl has his heart, really, and it's by sheer luck that she happens to be a superhero— and an even bigger bout of luck when he finds out about it. So the answer flows out of his tongue without so much as a thought:
"Multimouse."
Nadja Chamack is, understandably, caught off-guard. (In reality, she had come into this interview hoping to find some truth to the fact that two of Paris' biggest idols were in love with each other)— but this seemed to be a lot more interesting.
"She's… the one who helped Chat Noir and Ladybug with Kwamibuster, right?"
"Yeah!" Adrien's eyes almost sparkle as he talks about her. "She's the only reason why we— all of Paris, I mean, managed to defeat her then! Ladybug and Chat Noir would've been in real trouble if she wasn't there to save the day. And she's so cool like Multimouse has the power to become tiny, and when she used her power it was so adorable and amazing and wonderful—!"
"A Multimouse fanboy, then?" Nadja asks, an amused smile playing on her face. "I'm sure a lot of our viewers are surprised. They, and even I thought you'd choose Ladybug. What makes Multimouse so unique?"
Because it's her. Because it's the girl he's so desparately in love with. Because it's Marinette Dupain-Cheng.
(Not like he can say that, of course.)
"I do love Ladybug," Adrien begins. "She's a hero and I look up to her sense of duty and professionalism in saving Paris." Then, a pause. "But I admire Ma—Multimouse. She was thrown into the superhero role so suddenly, in a situation as high-stakes as back then, and managed to do perfectly." He looks down and smiles. "And… she's cute."
(Oops, now that wasn't meant to slip out.)
Nadja's look of victory at receiving— and being responsible for breaking the news of Adrien Agreste's Crush is clear. "Well, she does sound like quite a hero when you describe her like that. It's a shame that she hasn't showed up so much."
"You're right," Adrien mutters, and the disappointment in his tone is evident. "But I trust in Ladybug… and Chat Noir's judgment. If they need her, then she'll appear again."
"For the sake of your crush, let's hope so!"
Adrien splutters. "Wait, Ms. Chamack, this isn't a crush, it's just admiration from a purely superhero-civilian perspective…"
She turns to the video camera. "Young love is sweet, isn't it? For Adrien, let's all wish that Multimouse shows up again soon! Ladybug and Chat Noir, maybe you'd be interested in lending a hand?"
The show comes to a close with Adrien beet-red and almost desparately coveting her face.
.
.
Marinette is exhausted.
Which is saying a lot, because she's already exhausted on a regular day— from balancing her studies, being a class representative, fashion designing, helping at the bakery, and of course, being Ladybug, but this brought everything to an entirely new level.
Because now, not only did she have to run around Paris in one full-body suit, but with Adrien's apparent declaration of love on national television— and multiple angrily-worded 'why do you hate love / Multimouse / Adrien Agreste' letters to her superhero persona after— Marinette was now made to run around using two.
Ladybug with an akuma, Multimouse when patrolling. And also Ladybug when patrolling. And sometimes Multimouse with an akuma.
Just to keep everyone in Paris happy. (And non-suspicious, really.)
All because of that damned interview.
She has to stop herself from yelling a string of not-so-kind words into the sky.
Marinette likes Adrien. She really does.
He's a good friend, and after that whole misunderstanding with Chloé and the gum, basically cemented himself as an all-around good person. He's given her more homework help, fashion advice, and general pep talks than she could ever count.
But Marinette doesn't like like him.
(And maybe she would, in an alternate universe— he's kind, sweet, handsome, and all of Paris is quite frankly in love with him, but her heart belongs completely to someone else.)
So a sudden reveal that he has a crush on her superhero persona… and not even her primary one, doesn't really bother her as much as it could.
Besides, as far as she was concerned, Adrien had never interacted with Multimouse. She wonders how he could've gotten all those thoughts about her in his head, but decides it's just one of his stranger quirks and leaves it aside.
It's probably infatuation with a superhero. Nothing new, really. (She's experienced fans claiming they 'loved' her when all they truly felt was admiration. Nothing less, and honestly, nothing more.)
Marinette knows what true love is.
She knows it so clearly that when it comes jumping from the buildings, rooftop to rooftop, her heart threatens to beat out of her chest and follow him.
He lands on the empty balcony with ease.
"Why so glum, bugaboo?" Adrien asks. "You look exhausted. Didn't get enough rest last night?"
Marinette wants to scream. They're supposed to be patrolling tonight; alternating between Ladybug and Chat Noir, then Multimouse and Chat Noir, then Ladybug and Multimouse— a plan which, on paper, sounds perfect.
But in this case, Marinette's both, she's Ladybug and Multimouse (and herself at every other point of the day), and therefore hasn't had any sleep at all.
It's tiring, but seeing Chat Noir, she finds, makes her feel a lot better.
"Had some things to do… in the real world," she mumbles instead, lazily leaning upon the railing. "How was it yesterday?" Marinette asks, opting to change topics. "Multimouse said you're working well together."
Chat Noir almost beams when the words escape her mouth.
(Marinette vaguely wonders if it's possible to be jealous of herself.)
"Really?" He asks, eyes bright. "She said that? I've honestly been so worried about whether or not I've been making her uncomfortable… she doesn't talk a lot, which I think is a shame, because I'm sure she has a ton of interesting stories…"
"Hey," Marinette stops him. "Remember that Multimouse has to keep her identity secret. She can't risk giving any information that might lead back to her civilian self. She's new to this, so it's only right that she's more careful than we are."
It's strange, talking about herself like this.
"You're right," he sighs, before turning to her. "Hey… can I tell you a secret?"
Marinette frowns. What could this be?
"I actually know who Multimouse is," he finally confesses. "I know it's Marinette."
Well, she already knew that. She was the one responsible for him making that realization, after all.
But what gets her is how comfortable he is saying her name— when really, all he should know is Ladybug and Multimouse.
"So you saw her detransform, huh?" Marinette asks, looking up to the sky. "I hope you'll keep it secret."
"Of course I will!" Chat Noir protests, then takes a deep breath. "I'm glad you trusted her. She's a good person."
Now how does he know that?
"I mean—," he stumbles over his words. "From what I've heard! From her friends… and online posts… and stuff… I've definitely never met her before!"
Liar.
Why is he so terrible at lying?
Because that's something she knows now. That Chat Noir knows her. That he knows Marinette. So to some extent, she knows him.
Which means that there's a very large possibility that Marinette has spoken to Chat Noir. That Marinette has interacted with Chat Noir. That Marinette is maybe even friends with Chat Noir. And that for all her talk about being in love with him, she doesn't recognize him at all.
"... Ladybug?"
"How do you know Marinette?"
The question escapes her tongue before she can stop it. It's a dangerous question, one that can ruin their secret identities completely, but she can't help doing so.
She needs to know.
He's evidently panicking. Marinette watches him with a steady gaze, even though she's all but in complete chaos on the inside.
"I'm kinda maybe in love with her."
Well.
She wasn't expecting that at all.
"You… love…," the words aren't registering, and she's struggling to get a single word out.
He sighs. "Yeah, cat's out of the bag now? I know her a bit in real life. She's just so kind and talented and cute… it's impossible not to fall in love with her. That's why I was so excited when you started recruiting Multimouse again— and why I've been so insistent on having her on patrols with me."
Wait.
"But it's okay! I'll never tell her that we actually know each other. Cat's honour!" Chat Noir smiles at her, acting as if there was nothing at all wrong in the world. "And don't worry, everyone I know has or had a crush on Marinette at some point. I'm one-in-a-million, so I don't think this'll narrow your search on me by that much…," he begins, "as long as you don't look."
Except she's looking. Even against her will, Marinette's mind speeds through everyone she knows that has a similar build to his.
Blonde hair, green eyes, about her size…
Only one person fits that bill.
The word escapes her mouth before she can stop it.
"Adrien?"
"... okay, so maybe I messed up."
"So you're the reason I haven't been sleeping?"
"Well I mean, I'm flattered…"
Marinette gets the situation she's in quickly. Adrien, however, takes a little bit longer.
"I meant for patrolling you absolute zero-braincelled—
"Patrolling? Ladybug, what do you mean…"
"Hhh. Think about it for a second."
"Ladybug…"
"You can do it."
"… you're Multimouse?"
"And…"
"And that means…"
"Come on now."
.
.
"Marinette?!"
#auyeah2020#mlauyeahaugust2020#auyeahaugust#auyeah august#marinette dupain cheng#ladybug#multimouse#adrien agreste#chat noir#adrimouse#??#ml#miraculous ladybug#milk writes#ml fic#ml fanfic
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