#he seems to find such relief in contorting himself into exactly what people want from him

[notbecauseofvictories]

I am wobbling about the new silt verses and I am looking forward to you doing the same

you'll have a good time I think

I just remembered that there was a whole scene where hayward and carpenter bond over elaborately insulting each other, and while yes, this does make me incandescently happy, it also makes me wonder if hayward is....okay?

do not get me wrong, hayward seems much, much happier running around with his illegal cult than he ever did being a cop. when he was talking about long car trips, how his only company was felix and his own thoughts, you can hear the shiver of terror in his voice---it wasn't fun, being left alone with his thoughts. (the stink, his youth, shallow divots in the earth that would swallow you whole....) he's glad and grateful when carpenter gives him the out with 'I Spy', even at the price of a couple of insults.

but.....at the same time? this might be a pattern. paige (lightly!) kidnapped him, dragged him into godmaking and cult-running; carpenter is just barely accepts that he isn't still the man who swore vengeance and screamed he'd chase her across the continent. he's so hungry for connection he's twisting himself into the shapes they want, in the hopes they'll let him stay.

I have to imagine he's still carrying everything, refuses to think about it too much, look at it straight on. maybe paige has taught him some fun new pop psychology jargon, a couple mindfulness tricks, but she's drunk most of the time and honestly, that gives hayward even more reason to stay and not think about that black morass he's dragging behind him.

[rek1s-headband]

Break up prank on the sk8 boys

➯ Characters: Reki Kyan, Langa Hasegawa, Cherry, Joe, Miya and Shadow x gn reader

➯ Warnings: none, just some angst to fluff. Enjoy!

Reki:

He thought it was a joke at first

Like you, he watched his fair share of videos, and had seen the trend going around already

But you weren’t discouraged, you were going to try and make him believe it no matter what

He laughed it off the first time, but after you simply gave him a puzzled look and a “huh?”, he felt his heart pick up significantly. Maybe you weren’t joking??

Instantly he was running back in his mind where he could’ve possibly gone wrong, where he could’ve messed up so badly that you felt the need to leave?

After his nervous laugh died down, he went deadly silent

“You’re serious?”

You were starting to feel awful, like maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all, but you decided to persist

When you nodded your head slowly, you could’ve died when you saw how quickly his face dropped

Even though he had a small smile on his face, you could see the tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. He was running a shaky hand through his hair, and when you were ready to take him into your arms, to tell him you were only kidding, he wouldn’t let you get a word in edgeways

A flood of questions was suddenly leaving his moth, all his unvoiced questions coming out in one go. He was holding your hand now in an almost death grip, asking you why you were unhappy, why you wanted to leave

Why he wasn’t good enough for you

That’s all you needed before you were pulling him into your arms, sobbing yourself. This shut him up, he was completely speechless as your tears pooled on his shoulder, telling him you were so sorry, that you were only joking. You just wanted to see him get a little panicky, you never expected the outcome to look like this

As soon as the words left your mouth you saw his shoulders visibly drop, pulling you impossibly closer as he let the last of his tears out. He chuckled shakily, running a hand up your back.

“I thought I lost you for a second there”

That was when you pulled your head out of his shoulder, grabbing his face between your hands and pulling him closer to you. Eyes wide, he simply watched as you declared he could never lose you, that you weren’t going anywhere. You were stuck to him like glue, whether he likes it or not

He gave you one last relieved smile, before he was pulling you close again for a desperate kiss. He kissed you like it was the last time he ever would, because now that he’d thought he lost you, he was never going to take anything about you for granted again

Langa:

Was fully convinced you were serious right off the bat

Right as the words “I think we should break up” were leaving your lips, his brain was doing overtime trying to figure put how he hadn’t realised how unhappy you were. Sure, he was kind of bad at reading emotions, but surely he wasn’t so terrible he couldn’t figure out how his own s/o was feeling?

Was he really as bad at communication as people told him he was?

You instantly regretted your decision as you watched his mouth hang open, saw his eyes scrunch slightly as he wrung his hands quietly at his sides

He nodded, and you couldn’t seem to swallow the lump in your throat as your eyes locked on the small tear rolling down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away with a small smile

“If thats what will make you happy”

You couldn’t seem to collect your thoughts as you watched him step closer to you, dropping his head to your level as he grabbed your hand. It was soft, as if he didn’t want to hurt you any more than he thought he had. He stumbled over his words, trying to find the right ones to say. Eventually he just took a deep breath, and looked into your eyes

“Were you really that unhappy?” Your heart broke when you heard the crack in his voice towards the end. “How did I not notice how sad you were?” Tears were falling down his face again and he didn’t even bother wiping them away this time. Suddenly you were shooting forward, grabbing his shoulders as you began to cry

“You’ve never made me unhappy Langa, not once.” You saw his wide eyes stare at you, not even attempting to reply as he watched you continue. “It was a joke, Langa. I wanted to see how you’d react, I didn’t think you’d take it this seriously. Did you really think you made me unhappy? Ive never been happier than when I’m with you-“ you barely got to finish before he was wrapping you in his arms, his grip vicelike. His face was digging into your shoulder, clinging to you as if you’d disappear any second.

His breath was ragged and shaky as he pulled you even closer, making sure there was absolutely no room for you to escape. You ran your hand through his hair in an attempt to calm him down as he slowly emerged from your shoulder

With a small chuckle, he rubbed the side of your face with his hand, letting his head drop slightly as he let out a sigh of relief

“I really thought I was ignoring my own s/o’s feelings.” You laughed, pulling him into another hug

“If I’m ever upset, I’ll let you know. Just know it wont be for quite a while” you grinned, grabbing his collar to pull him into a kiss. It was sweet, and gentle, and you felt all your previous problems melt away as Langa pulled you closer, smiling into the kiss

Cherry:

You and Kaoru rarely fought, and when you did it was over minor things that were reconciled within a day. So when you were sitting him down, asking if he’d be okay with breaking up, the only thing he could feel was complete confusion.

What happened? You’d always been so happy, never expressing much discontent. And besides, whenever you did it was resolved as soon as possible. What was so different today?

What was making you so unhappy that you felt the relationship was beyond saving?

Or worse, what outside your relationship was making you happier than him?

He kept these thoughts to himself, coughing quietly to try and open up his throat that seemed to be impossibly tight at that moment. He held your hand, stroking it softly and nodding before looking up at you

“Why the sudden change of heart, hm?”

The small smile on Kaoru’s face that was slowly diminishing by the second made you want to melt into the ground. Even when you were asking him to leave, he was still so caring, still so loving. You could only watch, feeling your heart break as he looked at you, his eyes glassy as he quickly plastered the fakest smile you’ve ever seen onto his face

“Well, if you’re unhappy when you’re with me, surely we shouldn’t be together.” He let out a small, breathy laugh that was almost missed by you, if you hadn’t been watching him with such avid horror. “I dont know why you feel you aren’t happy anymore, sweetheart, but I’m glad you realised what you want.” You watched him stand without a word, as you slowly realised that this is real.

He thinks this is real

That was all you needed before you were leaping off the couch, practically turning it over with the force you’d pushed off it. You were shouting his name, grabbing him by the arm and absolutely dragging him to face you. With the sudden turn and shock, you both ended up on the floor as you began to babble, words pouring out of your mouth and tears streaming from your eyes

“Kaoru, of course I’m not unhappy, you always know just how to make me happy, I could never leave you!” You were jumping on top of him, wrapping your arms around his neck as he sat up, a hand on your back and the other pulling your hair back from your face, trying to find any trace of a lie on your face

“Are you serous? It was all...” he was speechless. He didn’t realise you would even pull something like that, much less go so far with it

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” you sobbed. “I never meant for it to go this far. I just wanted to see you get a little worked up, pull a funny prank, nothing else, i prom-“ you were cut off when Kaoru pushed his lips onto yours, breath shaky as he ran his hand through your hair, as if you were going to disappear any second and he was making sure you were still there

When you finally pulled away, he pressed his forehead to yours, letting out a small laugh

“Don’t ever pull that shit again”

Joe:

When you first brought it up with him, he felt his heart drop into his stomach. Surely you weren’t serious, right?

He kept a smile quirked on his lips, a questioning look in his eyes. Still, you kept a face of steel, as if challenging him to ask if you were joking

As worried as he was, he wasn’t sure you were being serious. Something about it wasn’t..genuine? You looked too straight-faced, your expression staying neutral the whole time as if to not give something away. He was certain he hadn’t done enough to make you this delighted about breaking up, so why were you so unaffected?

The cogs were turning in his brain, all arrows pointing towards one of two directions: either he was a massive dick, or it was a prank

Oh. A prank

Of course, he wasn’t certain, but it would certainly explain quite a bit

So he decided on a plan. It wasn’t exactly the nicest thing to do, but if it was a prank, it was a nice way for him to get you back for the little skit you pulled. And if it wasn’t a prank, well, maybe it’ll take the sting away a little

His mouth quickly dropped to a frown, ready to put his plan into action. “Oh yeah? Well, thats a bit of a relief.” He had to try hard to hide his grin when he saw your eyebrows furrow, saw the frown begin to spread across your face. So maybe it was a prank. You could only watch as he continued his speech

“You see, I’ve been thinking about ending things for a while now. There was a girl at S I met a few weeks back, and man, you should’ve seen the eyes she’s been giving me. Anyways, I’ve taken a real liking to her, and Ive been thinking about giving things with her a shot. Of course, now it shouldn’t be a bother, right?”

When he saw your face contort from confusion to anger, he knew he’d fucked up severely. Suddenly you were getting up close to his face, prank forgotten, poking him in the chest as you began to shout

“Are you serious!? After all we’ve been through together, you’re just gonna leave me for some bitch you met a few weeks ago??” You were fuming at this point, while Joe watched you with with a look of mock confusion

“What’s your problem? You were the one who wanted to “break up”, right?” Something about the way he said ‘break up’ made you freeze, looking up at him as you watched a grin begin to form on Joe’s face. That bastard

“You...you asshole!” You were lost for words. He knew this whole time? And instead of enlightening you, he decided to play along? You watched with a blank expression as Joe laughed, pulling you into a hug

“I knew it” he let out a loud laugh, but it almost seemed forced. You pulled away, and when you tried to look at him his eyes seemed to be everywhere but you. You grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at you

“You didn’t think id actually want to break up, did you?” When he simply frowned, pulling his eyes away again you cooed, pulling him into your chest as you stroked his hair, feeling his arms slowly wrap around your waist and hold you close

It’s safe to say the two of you stayed like that for quite a while

Shadow:

When you asked him to break up as a joke, you simply wanted to see if you could piss him off. Hiromi was prone to getting mad at the smallest things, cursing up a storm when he did something as small as mess up his makeup

So when you saw his face break, felt him shrink in on himself as he asked you why, what had he done that made you want to leave, your face was frozen with shock

Now this was completely new. Of course, you knew Hiromi wasn’t just some big angry man, but you didn’t think he’d get this worked up

Brows furrowed, he brought a hand to his forehead as he let out a long breath

“What happened?” Those two words held so much emotion it almost made you break. You didn’t realise how much this would affect him, just how upset it would make him. But here he was, an emotional wreck as he wiped an almost-tear away from the edge of his eye

But soon after, he was stepping close to you, grabbing your hand and looking at you with all the sincerity in the world

“Please, give me another chance. I dont know what I did, but I do know we can fix it. I know we can, please y/n. I cant lose you”

His heartfelt speech was all you needed for the tears to slowly fall from your eyes, Hiromi looking at you with a look of concern, and confusion. You were stepping into his arms, crying silently as he hesitantly put his arms around you, not quite sure what to do. So was that a yes?

You picked your head off his shoulder, not moving from his arms

“Oh, Hiromi” he looked down at you, concern washing over his face once more. “It was only a prank, I’m so sorry.”

Now he wasn’t just upset, but relieved. A bit of anger was in there somewhere, but that could be overlooked for now. He let out a loud laugh, hugging you so tightly you could’ve sworn you felt at least 3 of your ribs break

“And what made you think that was a funny thing to do?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, not letting you out of his death grip. You simply shrugged, burying yourself deeper into his chest. He smiled, his knees practically buckling after the whole ordeal

He held you at arms length, a frown on his face. You felt a twinge of panic, maybe he wouldn’t forgive you?

This thought was quickly forgotten when he barked out a loud laugh. He dropped his face to your level, putting his hands on your shoulders

“Pull something like that again, and I swear you’ll give me a heart attack”

Miya:

Miya has never been one for properly expressing his emotions, so when you walked up to him one day and asked him to break up, he simply frowned. He didn’t let it on, but his world was very quickly caving in around him

Keeping a neutral expression, he sighed and nodded his head. He didn’t trust himself to speak right now

When you gave him a confused look from his lack of a verbal response, he really had to try to not walk out of that room there and then. You break up with him, and then expect him to just take it and walk away with a smile??

When you continued to look at him expectantly, he just let out a breath, turning away from you. “Fine. Whatever. If thats really what you want then so be it” he was kicking himself for being so blunt, but what other choice did he have? He couldn’t think, his lungs felt too small, too cramped

And now you were going to leave just like everyone else had

You tried to put your hand on his shoulder, calling his name quietly. He simply shrugged you off, dipping his head so you wouldn’t see the tears that were quickly collecting in his eyes. You’d just dumped him, the last thing he needed was you seeing him cry. You didn’t give up, asking him why he wouldn’t just look at you. Still not facing you, he attempted to talk again

“What more is there to discuss? You want to leave, so go. I’m not going to stop you if its what you want.” The crack in his voice at the end of his sentence broke your heart, and you were quickly turning him around, with more force this time, so he was forced to look you in the eyes

“Do you really think I’d leave that easily? It was a prank, you dumbass.” His head was buzzing with thoughts, why the hell would you do that? So you dont actually want to leave? You’re still gonna stay with him? You-

His thoughts were interrupted by you flicking his forehead. His hands flew to his head, letting out a cry. First you pretend to dump him, and now you have the audacity to flick him?

However, it did serve its purpose of pulling him out of his thoughts, and you were quickly pulling him into a hug while you stroked his hair. Before long you felt your shoulder grow wet with tears, the occasional sniffle leaving him. You laughed, holding him close as you tilted his chin to look at you

“I’m not going anywhere, as much as you might like me to. You’re stuck with me for a while longer, Miya Chinen.” He looked away from you, clicking his teeth

“Shut up..” he was mumbling, but there was so mistaking how hard he was gripping your clothes, as if you might try to leave again. But like you said, you weren’t going anywhere for quite some time

[wincore]

romeo roulette | jung yoonoh

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

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

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

words: 21.2k

warnings: language

song recs: playlist here !

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

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

Jung Yoonoh. Get your act together.

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

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

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

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

This whole charade dates its beginning to a week ago. 

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

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

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

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

“And I get what out of this?”

“Me? Temporarily, that is.”

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

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

“Wait!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll ask Doyoung if you say no.”

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

“I really will ask him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

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

“On one condition.”

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

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

“No way.”

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

You stare at him, weighing the odds. 

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

Jaehyun shrugs.

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

You mutter the last part.

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

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

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

“We have an agreement,” he repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You should." You glare at her.

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

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

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

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

"Yeah," Sicheng mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Literally what I just said," Soojin says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “Man, I feel bad for him.”

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

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

You gasp. “Is it me? It’s me, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow. “So?”

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

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

“Hey. Professional,” Soojin warns.

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

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

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

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

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

“Shh. What if they hear us?”

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

You huff, crossing your arms. “Still…”

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

“Your acting was shit though,” you snipe.

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you headed to?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, the sweet summer child that Dongmin is.

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

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

“—Around ten minutes left.”

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

“That sounds like a load of—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle. "Alright, handsome."

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

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

“What do you mean, baby?”

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

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

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

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

“You think you’re so—”

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

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

“Don’t say a word, Yoonoh.”

“Ooh, you’re saying my name now.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“I find it plenty funny.”

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

“Mhm.”

“Don’t look so smug.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you mutter.

He raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

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

He laughs. “What are we, in college?”

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

“Wrong,” he emphasizes, face leaning closer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun looks down. “Ginseng extract.”

“Oh, the gift pack?” Doyoung asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The two of you look at each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? CEO? I’m sorry?” you manage. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Dammit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I charge by the hour.” He smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, what? I didn’t catch that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, yes or no?”

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

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

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

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

“No,” he says with clear emphasis. 

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

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

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

Jaehyun shakes his head, smiling through his hand. 

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

He sighs. “Maybe. Have you?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

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

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

“Definitely.”

He scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips.

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

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

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

“It’s not officially there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re both the same thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved me,” you say, smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile. “Thanks, Soojin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You clearly liked it,” he mutters. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at her, puzzled.

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

“Don’t give me that cr—”

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

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

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

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

“Of course it is,” you mutter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There.”

“It’s hot in here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He does?”

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

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

“Hm. Funny coincidence.”

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

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

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

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

“For what? Being perfect and successful?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry!”

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

“Sorry,” he responds quietly. 

There’s a pause.

“Did you just kiss me right now?”

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

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

“What are you implying?” 

“You wanted to kiss me.”

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe it won’t.

"Never heard that before."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, not exac—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life strikes again with its poorly timed irony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just stick out your tongue at him subtly.

“I told you we’d win,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, me too,” Jaehyun agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun pauses before humming in realization.

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

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

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

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

“Too?”

“Shut up.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think people in love are always brave.”

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

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

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

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

“Sicheng rubbed off on me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "So?"

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

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

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

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

"Everyone needs mints, Jaehyun. Especially men."

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

"Have this mint or else."

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

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

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

"By me, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh. You might be right about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“So I’m right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What do lovers do anyway?

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

You don’t mind it one bit.

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

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

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

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

You let out another huff of complaint.

"Does everything have to be heart-shaped?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You faltered for a moment there.”

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

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

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

“Wow, you must be a masochist.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you enjoy my company?”

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

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

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

“And chill?”

“Do you even know what that means?”

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

You inhale, an idea presenting itself.  

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

“No.”

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

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

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

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers suddenly.

“Yes,” you answer.

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

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

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

“It’s pretty,” he whispers.

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

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

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

You exhale.

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

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

“Jaehyun—”

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun pulls apart and you miss the warmth.

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

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

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

“I’m sorry” is all you can say.

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

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

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

Because misery likes company.

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm? Show me?” He blinks at you. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Dongmin.”

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

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

“That’s- That’s my—what is this?”

Russian roulette is certainly not the same without a gun.

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

His initial shock seems to have partly subsided.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Into this loveless hell made for you.

“(name).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dongmin takes a sharp breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come with me,” Dongmin tells you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You point from him to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no. You know where this is going.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows in a question look. 

“That’s not important! Look—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kiss me again.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t do that.”

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

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

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

“Do you even have food?”

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

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

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

“Snitch,” he mutters under his breath.

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

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

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

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

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

You gasp.

“You were right!”

“I told you s—”

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

Jaehyun shrugs. “Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “And you like being pushed around, nerd.”

“Who said that?”

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

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

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

“Five times, if you ask.”

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

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

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

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

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

[belphies-cuhm-sluht]

hii,can I request the brothers (or juts Mammon & Satan) with a chubby MC who is very self aware of her weight so she gets extremely nervous when they hug her or touch a part of her body that she doesn't specifically likes?

If you can make this,thank you so much♥

Brothers With A Chubby GN!MC (Headcanons)

Lucifer

It had been a long day for him, meeting with Lord Diavolo always tired him out and coming home to you was always the highlight of his day. As soon as he saw you it was like a massive weight lifted off his shoulders, a fresh breath of relief.

His arms wrapped around you from behind as you stood at the bathroom sink, just having finished your nightly routine so you could climb into bed. He felt you slightly stiffen at his touch, a reaction that you always had whenever he hugged you, a reaction that he didn’t quite understand. His eyes watched your own in the mirror, following them down to where his hands laid on your body. You didn’t have to say anything for him to understand now, although he didn’t understand why it would make you react the way you did. He never understood the human realms standards for beauty or attractiveness.

He kissed along your neck, loosening his arms to glide his hands along your body, his eyes focusing on your face in the mirror. “You’re absolutely perfect, darling. I don’t want you to forget that. I adore everything about you.”

Mammon

He often did sneaky hugs, running up behind you and shaking his arms around you. He always held onto you so long, resting his chin on your shoulder and swaying side to side, just genuinely enjoying being able to hold you.

He was also absolutely oblivious to how nervous it made you, how self conscious you felt when he had you that close to him. This time was just a little worse though, his hands roaming a little more than they usually did, and you grabbed his hands, quickly pulling them off of you as you stepped away from him, laughing nervously.

“What’sa matter? Ya don’t wanna hug from The Great Mammon?” He noticed you covering yourself, wrapping your arms around your stomach, trying to hide yourself. “Oi, why’re ya hiding’ yerself from me?”

You’ll have to explain to him a couple times because honestly, he just doesn’t get it. You’re clearly the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on, and he doesn’t understand why you can’t see that as well.

“There ain’t nuthin wrong with ya! Yer hot…” Now he’s a little nervous because he’s not used to being that forward with you, but he’s doing his best and he doesn’t want you to feel bad about yourself ever, so if he has to keep awkwardly telling you how attractive you are to him, he’s gonna do it. “Yer my human, I been chasin after ya since ya got down here… Ain’t nuthin gonna change that.”

Leviathan

You always sat between his legs while he was gaming, his arms wrapped loosely around you or resting on your lap as he held the controller. He would feel you nervously shuffle, trying to make it so that his hands never actually touched you, but he just assumed that you needed to stretch out or that maybe that your legs fell asleep. It was to be expected, especially since he usually games in five hour sessions.

After a while, he started to realize though that you only ever did the little shuffle when his hands were laid on your thighs, or if his arms were wrapped a little too snuggly around you. It made him self conscious, and while he didn’t want you to think it bothered him, even though it did, he wanted to know what was wrong.

“D-Do you not want me to touch you?” It was inevitable that he’d catch on at some point, but you hadn’t planned what you were going to say once he did. It felt weird to talk about these things, especially with the guy that you loved. You didn’t want him to look at you differently, it was embarrassing.

You finally got the courage to tell him how you felt and what the real problem was. He actually looked hurt that you felt that way about yourself. He tossed his controller to the side, holding you tightly against him as he buried his face in your neck. “Please don’t feel that way… y-you’re so cute… I-I like holding you like this… I like you… n-no matter what…”

Satan

He was intuitive, he could read you like a book. That was both a pro and a con of dating him, you could never keep things a surprise or a secret from him, he just knew too much.

He walked into your room, standing just out of sight as you looked over yourself in the mirror. He knew exactly what you were doing, running your hands over your body, your lips turned down into a pout as you did. He hated seeing you judge yourself, and he knew that in your mind you were picking yourself apart, mentally pointing out what you believed to be flaws, but all he saw was a gorgeous human, his gorgeous human.

“Look how beautiful you are…” He murmured from the doorway, finally catching your attention. You quickly turned around, but he was already there, standing in front of you. His smile was soft, sweet and adoring as he looked you over. “My beautiful kitten. Look at you…” He turned you around, facing you towards the mirror as he traced his fingers lightly over your body.

“You know, some people think even the most beautiful things aren’t that… but it shouldn’t matter what other people think. What you think is the most important… and as long as you don’t see the beauty in yourself, you’ll never be happy… but…” He turned you back around, tilting your head up with his finger under your chin, leaning in closer and pressing a quick kiss to your lips. “If you need help finding your beauty, I’ll gladly show you, every single day… because I see it everywhere with you.”

Asmodeus

Shopping was something that you did often with Asmo, it was a weekly routine and something you both looked forward to once Saturday rolled around. This time was different though, and you were feeling… down about yourself lately. The good thing about Asmo was that he was usually so focused on himself that he didn’t really notice that change in your demeanor, not until you got to the store at least.

“Oh! Look at this! It’ll look lovely on you! Try it on for me, I want to see you in it!” He was always like this. He wasn’t just your boyfriend, he was also your personal stylist, picking clothes, shoes, and accessories that he knew would be great on you. Usually the clothes he picked made you feel sexy, hot, attractive, but as you looked at the outfit he picked out for you it almost made you cringe. It was tightly fitting, that much you could see just from him holding it up. You hadn’t even put it on yet and you were already embarrassed. “What’s wrong, love? Don’t worry, no one else will see you in it. I’ll go into the dressing room with you!” That just made you feel worse, your eyes widening at his suggestion as you quickly shook your head.

The dressing room was filled with mirrors on each side, you couldn’t escape your reflection even if you wanted to. You didn’t want to look at yourself, it just made you feel more self conscious, you hated it. There was nothing wrong with the outfit, nothing at all, the main problem, at least to you, is that you were in it. “Is everything alright in there?” His voice came from right outside the door and you wanted to crawl under a rock and hide there, but you couldn’t, and Asmo was going to come in soon if you weren’t coming out, so you might as well show him.

“Ahhh! Look at you! Perfection!” He squealed as you stepped out, rushing over to you and wrapping his arms around you. “How did I get so lucky to find someone just as beautiful as I am?” He had felt you stiffen in his arms, and he took a step back, his face contorted with worry. “Did I hurt you?” You shook your head no, your voice barely a whisper as you told him what was wrong and he almost looked insulted when you told him. “I don’t think that at all… Don’t say that about yourself. You’re the most stunning human I’ve ever laid my eyes on! I’m not going to let you think any differently, so I’ll just tell you everyday starting now. Also, you look amazing in that outfit, and I’m definitely buying it for you for our date tonight!”

Beelzebub

He came home from the gym, sweat dripping from everywhere as he walked through the door. You were standing at the kitchen counter, making him something to eat, knowing he’d be more hungry than usual. It was always like that after he worked out, and you made sure to have something prepared for him when he’d come home so he didn’t have to raid the fridge.

“You’re the best, honey. Thank you.” He came into the kitchen, wrapping one arm around your waist as he stood to your side, leaning in to kiss the top of your head. You tensed up a little, and he quickly pulled his arm away, smiling sheepishly down at you. “Sorry… I know I’m all sweaty. I’ll go shower first.” Now you felt bad for making him think that it was his fault that you seemed disgusted. It wasn’t with him, it was with yourself, but you knew he wouldn’t understand if you told him. To Beel, you were as beautiful as an angel, and he didn’t even understand how he got lucky enough to have you. If he knew that you felt bad about yourself, it would upset him, and he’d immediately blame himself, somehow finding a reason that your feelings were his fault. He was already sprinting up the stairs to take a shower, giving you time to think of how to tell him how you felt without making him assume that he was somehow the cause for those feelings.

When he came back down the stairs he had a wide smile on his face, bounding over to you and pulling you into the tightest bear hug, picking you up and spinning you around, but he immediately noticed that you tensed up again. “I took a shower… Do I still stink?” He took a step back, and you quickly shook your head, taking a deep breath before telling him what was really wrong. His mouth fell open as he looked at you, really looked at you. “What do you mean? I don’t see anything wrong with you…” He was practically studying you, trying to find the “flaws” that you thought you had, but he legitimately couldn’t find any. In Beels eyes, you were flawless, and you couldn’t change his mind. “I love you no matter what. I love who you are, inside and out, everything about you.” He shrugged as if it was a simple thing, and to him it was. Loving you was as simple as taking a bite out of the sandwich you had made him. “There must be something wrong with the mirrors making you think that… Maybe I can be your mirror… I’ll tell you how wonderful you look! That’s a good idea, I’ll do that.”

Belphegor

Nighttime was his favorite time with you. He had you all to himself, his brothers weren’t constantly trying to get your attention, it was just you and him. It was perfect. He got to hold you close against him, just how he liked it. Tonight was no different, besides the fact that you didn’t want to be held by him, you didn’t want his arms around you, and you couldn’t seem to get far enough to the edge of the bed. It wasn’t anything against him, nothing at all, it was all you.

“Are you hot or something?” He asked from beside you, he sounded confused, which was reasonable. You were still wrapped in blankets, and honestly, you were freezing. It would be nice to have him hold you, he was always so warm, but you didn’t want him to touch you, you were feeling so self conscious, it was awful. You hummed in agreement, not expecting him to reach over and pull the blankets off of you himself before scooting closer and wrapping his arm around you anyway. “There, now you won’t get overheated.” He nestled into the crook of your neck and you could feel him smiling, but you were stiff as a board. “Are you alright?” He pulled back just enough to try to look at you even though it was dark.

You weren’t alright, but you didn’t even know how you’d tell him what the real problem was. There was no simple way to openly tell the person that you love all of your flaws, it was humiliating. There was the chance that once you brought them up, he wouldn’t be able to look at you the same, and you didn’t want to lose him because of that. “Hey. You’re not alright, you’re being too quiet… and you’re not even hot. You feel cold… What’s wrong?” You didn’t want to lie to him, and you didn’t want him to assume anything either.

You rolled over, pulling the blankets back up again to cover yourself before explaining everything to him. He was quiet for a bit before rolling you back over and wrapping his arm around you. “You’re funny…” He sighed, nuzzling back into your neck and kissing along it. “You really think I care about that kind of stuff? I don’t care about looks, and even if I did… You’re flawless.” He pushed himself up just enough to kiss your cheek before laying back down, sighing softly. “I love you… Now get some sleep.”

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Fever Dream

(Written for @sicktember prompt #1 - Fever! I finished it in time for the first but didn't have the energy to edit.)

--

Angels didn’t get sick, precisely

They didn’t have bodies that were, strictly speaking, physical, and therefore couldn’t harbor any of the illnesses that plagued mankind and other earthly creatures.

An angel could, however, burn through enough of his own grace that his corporation began to malfunction.

He would then, as it were, fall ill.

This happened to Aziraphale far more often than to other angels.

A weak constitution was the general explanation; too much time mucking about on the strange old planet, not enough time bathing in the glorious healing light of the celestial sphere.

When he was down on Earth, he was always prying, poking, trying new things, many of which had never been approved, could have any manner of ill effects. He knew he should show some proper restraint, withdraw a bit more from the world, but he couldn’t help himself.

And when he did return to huddle miserably in a recovery ward, waiting for the chills to pass and his temperature to stabilize, Gabriel would always visit, dropping broad hints about the pressures of fieldwork and the under appreciated glory of a solid administrative career. Offering all kinds of advice as to what, exactly, a proper angel would cut out of his life if he wished to better focus on his ordained duties.

And so, when the symptoms next came upon him—muscle aches, irritability, sweat and chills until he didn’t know if he was hot or cold—Aziraphale decided to wait it out on Earth. It would only take a few days to recover and, anyway, he had business to attend to. Important business that could not wait.

“Angel, are you sure you’re alright?” Crowley demanded, a glint of gold just visible between black lenses and furrowed brow.

“Yes, I’m perf—” he turned his head to cough lightly, but an odd spasm came over his throat, transforming it into something deep and hacking that left his ribs aching and his brow dripping with sweat. “…tickety-boo,” he muttered, turning back to his mug.

“Keep it down,” hissed the demon, glancing around the common room of the inn. Perhaps one or two people had glanced over, but nothing out of the ordinary. “People will think you have the plague.” The last two words he barely mouthed.

“My dear fellow, do be serious. I have hardly any symptoms of the plague.” Only the last part sounded more like sybtobs otha blayyyg.

He cleared his throat and tried to sniff, which started a complicated chain reaction that ended with a mouthful of what he hoped was spit.

As Aziraphale’s eyes went wide with alarm, Crowley quickly pulled out a deep red handkerchief, which the angel gratefully spat into. Unsure what to do next, Aziraphale folded it over and offered it back, but Crowley leaned away, face contorted in horror.

“Oh, ah… thank you, then?” He took a quick glance inside and immediately wished he hadn’t, grimacing at the color of what his body had produced.

“Just… just eat your soup,” Crowley muttered, waving a hand at the bowl he’d been toying with until it was hardly above room temperature.

Aziraphale had ordered it thinking a bit of warmth would be lovely, as he’d been shivering fit for midwinter morning. But after one mouthful, he’d found himself sweating, tugging at his collar to relieve some of the heat. Now he could feel the shivers coming on again, but he couldn’t warm it back up. Until the illness passed, any miracles would just make it worse.

“Right,” Crowley said as Aziraphale poked at something that might have been a parsnip. “I’m going to be out of town for the next few weeks. Temptations all up and down the continent. Might take the rest of the season. Unless…” Using that lilting voice that suggested a coin flip might be imminent.

“Mmmh.” Aziraphale looked mournfully into his beer, finally hazarding another sip. The taste of hops struck him at the back of the throat and he quickly expelled the rest back into the mug. “Sorry, m’dear. Not this time. I got…” he waved his hand, waiting for the rest of the words. They didn’t appear to be forthcoming. “Things,” he finally said. “In the city. Until at least…” He rubbed his forehead, but it was hard to think when it was so cold. He pulled his heavy coat back on, bundling up.

“Oh, well. Things. Obviously can’t take you away from things.” Aziraphale nodded miserably, trying to focus on his bowl. “Angel, look,” and as Crowley leaned close, there was something new in his voice, something that sounded rather like concern. “You sure you’re alright? I mean, there’s nothing… nobody…”

Aziraphale blinked, his eyes feeling… sticky. What was Crowley getting at? He should really be more direct, clever Serpent, it was hard enough to think in all this heat. He struggled out of his coat, dabbing uselessly at the sweat on his forehead.

“Oh for Satan’s—are you cursed?” He hissed the last word even softer than he’d said plague.

“No,” the angel said, resting his head on his hand until his neck recovered enough strength to hold it up again. “M’not. S’just… things!”

In his attempt to gesture with both hands, Aziraphale forgot one was already occupied and very nearly wound up face-first in the soup.

“Azir—!” Crowley rounded the table in an instant, tugging him upright again. “What has come over you?”

“S’rry. People staring? S’not… not… proper.”

“Angel, you’re—you’re burning up!”

“Not. S’cold.” Then an icy hand touched his forehead and cheek, and Aziraphale groaned, trying to pull away.

“What the Heaven is going on?”

“Toldya. Things. Illness. From… from…” he tried to gesture with one arm, but it weighed too much to lift. “Being a… bad angel…”

A heavy sigh. “C’mere, you.” Crowley hauled him to his feet.

Aziraphale was pleased to find he could stand, just that his spinning head and aching limbs made it unpleasant. He couldn’t remember where he was supposed to go, but there was something solid nearby to lean on and a hand on his waist, guiding him forward.

It wasn’t until they reached the stairs that he realized something wasn’t right. “Crowley! This is—we—we can’t—where—what are you—”

“I’ve got a room upstairs.”

Aziraphale squinted dimly towards the upper floor. “Yes…?”

“Yes. And you, Angel, are in need of a bed.”

But.

But it was improper! Scandalous, even, talking of rooms, and beds, or rooms andbeds, or any combination thereof, particularly in the singular form. What if someone saw? An angel and a demon, bad enough, but two allegedly respectable gentlemen?

Or, wait, was one of them currently presenting as a woman? Likely not Aziraphale, though he sometimes lost track, but Crowley, well, that could also be hard to tell, but he seemed to have a good amount of jewelry and no facial hair, so there was a chance.

Still, male or female, angel or human, there would be rumor, gossip, talk about the town! It would get back to Heaven! This was worse than being thought weak and improper, Gabriel would think him some sort of reprobate!

Crowley paused, one hand on a door. “This is me. Um. I’ll go back down if it makes you feel better.”

What? And have all the rumor with none of the satisfaction? The shame of spending a night in a demon’s bed without the pleasures—oh, he knew what Crowley got up to. One of the Seven Sins that was, and Aziraphale would not be tempted into joining. No, not he!

“Right. Nh. Going to help you out of some of these layers, then I’ll go.”

Go? Go?After Aziraphale had come all this way, come so very close? No, he’d spent centuries imagining how it would be, and he’d never be truly satisfied until he had a reality to compare it to. Aziraphale very much wanted to know what Crowley looked like while he slept.

Yes, Crowley, Sloth is one of the Seven Sins, a demon should know these things.

And while Aziraphale had the general idea clear enough, he still had questions. Did Crowley snore, or did he breathe softly? He certainly would sleep on his side, curled up, but how heavy would his head be, pillowed on Aziraphale’s chest? If they talked, would his words become slurred as he drifted off, or would he listen quietly while Aziraphale spoke, running his fingers through bright red hair?

Come to that, how did his hair feel, or his cheek, or his lips? Aziraphale hadn’t thought much about lips, generally, but now that Crowley was always hiding his eyes, well, they had become the focus of his face, and that presented fascinating possibilities, ones that Gabriel certainly wouldn’t approve of, but he’d always been too curious for his own good. And really, what was a harmless little experiment between—

Oh, good Lord, was Aziraphale talking out loud?

He clapped his hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horror.

But Crowley chuckled, resting a hand on his shoulder; in only his undershirt, he could feel it so clearly—ice cold, but not unpleasantly so. “Your secrets are safe, Angel. Lay down.”

Too embarrassed to object, Aziraphale crawled into the bed and let Crowley pull a blanket over him. “Keep that on, yeah?”

“S’hot,” the angel whined. His voice sounded very odd, slurred, weak. Perhaps that meant Crowley hadn’t understood his rambling before.

“I know. Just try.” Something cool and damp wiped his face and Aziraphale sighed with relief. “Has this happened before?”

“Mmmh. Over an’over an’over.” In Heaven, they would assign him a recovery room, to sit alone and reflect on what he’d done to earn himself the illness, on what he could do to better serve in the future. Gabriel always had good suggestions.

The being alone. That was the worst part. Hated that.

Crowley was talking. Something would be right there, beside the bed. That was probably important, but the angel was already asleep.

In Aziraphale’s dream, Gabriel told him over and over that he’d failed again, that this was his own fault, that he was a terrible angel who didn’t deserve… something.

Possibly anything.Again and again, the Archangel took everything he valued—his books, his sweets, his day at the theater, the beauty of the sunrise, the way humans smiled at each other after many days apart, and something else, something far more important, but the name was forbidden—

Again, something cool pressed to his forehead, his chest. Fingers raked through his hair, helping the sweat to evaporate. “See?” A voice murmured. “Better already.” But everything was getting grey and distant again.

Now Aziraphale was in a room, an enormous room, empty but somehow still cluttered. All the things he loved were here, hidden, and Gabriel ordered him to find them all or they’d be destroyed. He searched frantically, among endless piles of brown packages, and found most of them—books and smiles and sunrises—mixed in with kettles, mittens and (for some reason) cat whiskers. But the last thing, the final thing, the important thing was still missing, and the room grew hotter and hotter—

“Try this now.” Something supported Aziraphale’s back as he sat up, leaning against… a thing… a thing that meant warmth and safety. A mug pressed to his lips. He wasn’t sure what he drank, but it felt good. “Now let’s get you settled again.”

He didn’t go down easily, though, reaching and writhing, somehow grasping the safe thing, pulling it close. If he let it get away, Gabriel would destroy it.

“I see. Alright. You stay there.” Fingers through his hair again, more resting lightly on his shoulder. “I got you. Nothing’s going to—”

Reality tumbled away and he was falling, possibly Falling, the voices of Gabriel and Michael and Uriel all around him, insulting him, taunting him, asking him why he hadn’t filed form HX-3 in triplicate. He clung desperately to the thing he needed as the temperature rose, more voices joining in, every voice. The Hellfire licked at him, even as he trembled and shook uncontrollably. This was the end, he would die here, he’d never said—

“Crowley!” He called, desperate. “Crowley don’t—don’t leave me!”

The thing he held shifted, and now there were arms wrapped around him, protecting him. “There we are. Not going to leave.”

It was too hot to bear, but still he burrowed closer. “Crowley, please. I can’t—I—I need you!”

“Not going anywhere, Angel. Not ever.”

“Crowley!” The Hellfire burst within him, a flash of heat up and down his body, his limbs, his soul—

And then he was… exhausted.

The shaking faded, the heat and cold gone, though he still found himself covered in sweat. Nothing remained but a strange sense of calm.

Still clinging to his lifeline, Aziraphale drifted off into a proper restful sleep.

He opened his eyes to find the late evening sun slanting through an open window. The blanket was largely twisted around his legs and the bed below him was oddly hard and lumpy, even if it was nice—

“You’re looking better.”

Aziraphale scrambled up in horror to find that the thing he’d been laying on—clinging to for dear life—was six feet of rumpled, uncomfortable-looking demon. A demon he vaguely recalled saying some very revealing things to…

“Oh, good Lord.” Aziraphale’s face burned again, but not from fever. He covered, his eyes turning away. “Crowley—you—you—how—”

“Gah! M’sorry!” He heard Crowley push himself upright, sliding away. “I—I—I shouldn’t have—didn’t mean—”

No of course not. It wasn’t as though Crowley shared his strange desires, his secret obsessions, his awful curiosity. Crowley was a—a perfectly normal demon who would have no interest in prolonged contact, particularly with a most clingy, damaged angel…

“What must you think of me?” he moaned.

“Stupid, stupid demon,” Crowley grumbled. “I saw you panicking but I didn’t know—shouldn’t have assumed—”

“What is wrong with me?”

“Crossed a line, and—and now look—”

“I’m a terrible, foolish, needy…”

“Didn’t want to take advantage—I’m sorry!”

“I’m sorry! Wait…” That wasn’t right. Aziraphale cautiously lowered his hands to see Crowley sitting frozen with the glasses halfway to his face. “You’re sorry?”

“Mnh. Yeah. Cuz… cuz I’m the one who…” his eyes dropped. “You seemed upset. Scared. I just… I made it worse, didn’t I? Shoulda known you wouldn’t want…”

“But…” Aziraphale swallowed, trying to recall anything clearly. “I… I seem to remember… propositioning you. Repeatedly.”

Crowley’s face turned red, but he smiled. Not his confident swaggering smirk, but something awkward and genuine that Aziraphale hadn’t seen since Eden. “Not… repeatedly. N’I’d hardly call it… besides it was… you know. But!” His fingers twisted on the metal frames of his glasses. “But, look—I don’t—you aren’t responsible for—for the things you say when you’re sick, ‘specially things you don’t mean—and I—s’my responsibility not to—” He ducked his head even further. “Just wanted to help. Shouldn’t have assumed… that you meant… what I wanted…”

“What…” Aziraphale reached out but couldn’t quite touch him. “What you want?”

“Um.” Golden eyes flicked up. “You’re… not the only one who wondered about… the sleeping stuff. Who doesn’t like to be… alone.” He cleared his throat. “Or, at least, I thought—”

“I believe I told you I needed you.” His hand hovered over Crowley’s shoulder. “I meant that. Precisely the way you took it. I—I meant most of it.”

Crowley’s eyes blinked, very slowly.

And the next moment, they were swept into each other’s arms, Aziraphale once again clinging to his friend like a lifeline. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he managed.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you.”

“Thank you,” Aziraphale pressed closer. “Thank you for staying.”

When they broke apart, Crowley was as bright red as Aziraphale had felt at the height of his fever, glasses back in place, staring fixedly at his own legs. “So. Mmmmh. Now what?”

Aziraphale considered that question more carefully than he’d ever considered anything.

“I think… I’m recovering…”

“S’good.” Crowley shifted as if to stand.

“…but still very tired. I should probably rest another night?”

“Yeah. Um. Yeah. Do you—I can go?”

“Do you have somewhere to be?” His heart started to fall, until Crowley shrugged.

“I do, but… not urgently.”

“If you have the time there’s… there’s something I’m curious about.”

“Well. Big fan of knowledge, me.”

Aziraphale carefully lay down again, keeping his arms wide. A moment later, Crowley took a deep breath, set aside his glasses and joined him.

It turned out that Crowley’s head on his chest was the perfect weight. That he did indeed curl up, though in the most convoluted ways. That in his sleep, Crowley’s breaths were gentle and soft, much like his hair, and he tried very much to keep talking on the edge of consciousness even when he didn’t have much to say.

As for the kissing, well—certain observations did not need to be made public.

(AO3 link later today...)

[hyunverse]

NUMBERS (WE ONLY HAVE 32 DAYS LEFT) ☆ FUSHIGURO MEGUMI.

CHAPTER ONE : YOU, ME AND OUR BURDENS.

gender neutral.

warnings: talk of death(s).

tags: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort.

beta readers: @milktyama , @boytual , @inusdoll .

synopsis: life isn’t easy when you’re gifted with the ability to see how much time is left for your loved ones to live. what makes matters worse is the fact that luck was and will never be on fushiguro megumi’s side.

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Megumi didn’t ask for this at all.

He didn’t ask to see how much time was left for a person to live. Deadly digits at the top of his loved ones’ heads. He didn’t ask to see the death timer, continuously ticking as a body gets old, waiting for its expiration date. A constant reminder of death.

“Don’t fall for me, Fushiguro,” you joked one time. He was sitting beside you by a lake one evening as the sun sets.

“I would never,” he replied.

How he wished that was the case. Day by day he was captivated by your personality. He spent every waking day finding out new things about you that he couldn’t help but admire. Megumi truly didn’t see it coming at all. After all, he had vowed to keep his distance from people. He thought he was doing a good job at keeping his vow. He will never forget that time he was acquainted with two people his same age, named Kugisaki Nobara and Itadori Yuuji. It started with the trio being in the same college course, becoming friends over the times. Megumi thought it’d be okay. He thought it wouldn't hurt to see the pair die, in case it actually happened.

Until it did.

Megumi still remembers that day very clearly. He had anticipated the 15th of February for months. He told both Nobara and Itadori to stay in their shared home all day in hopes of changing their fates. They followed what he advised despite the obvious paranoia in Megumi’s tone. Itadori told Megumi to calm down on call, reassured Megumi that Nobara and he were safe in their house—happily eating sushi and binging movies. Megumi thought it would be okay. What could possibly happen to a pair of best friends staying in the privacy of their apartment?

They died in a house fire.

The raven head couldn’t sleep for days. All his college assignments were left overdue, red-inked digits filling up his report card. Megumi didn’t care. The Zenin clan was flooded with money anyway. Starting from that day Fushiguro vowed to not get close to anybody. The numbers only appear once he feels affection towards the person. He’ll be fine if he just kept his distance. Spending the rest of his life all alone. He wouldn’t mind that at all. Fewer problems.

What Fushiguro Megumi failed to remember was the heart wants what it wants. He could completely ignore his feelings but it wouldn’t stop his heart to feel. What Fushiguro Megumi forgot was the fact that he was human, and being human meant feeling things.

A looming wall was set between him and other people. A hard, cemented wall—Megumi was positive nobody would get through and touch his vulnerability. You had the toughness of steel. You completely ignored how disinterested he seemed. Constantly teasing and caring for him—it was only a matter of time until his wall crumbled.

You also had the tenderness of silk. Soft fingers combing his hair as the two of you laid on his roof. There were no stars in the sky, but you insisted on laying amidst the darkness of night.

“Megumi,” you whispered, turning to look at the man, “you’re so hard to get through yet so easy to read.”

Fushiguro could already feel the sturdy wall he built shattering like the thinnest glass.

“You’re talking nonsense.”

He was avoiding the question, which was exactly the reaction you expected from him.

You chuckled, “you do know it’s okay to open up and set yourself free, right?”

Free.

Before you could think of anything else to say, tears slipped down Megumi’s cheeks. His vision and thoughts blurred together until all he could think and feel was how much his heart ached. He began to wonder if he had always felt that way. If he had been ignoring his heart’s screams all this time.

You carefully inched closer to your co-worker, painfully aware of all his reactions. God knows what possessed you to do what you did, but you gently cradled his face in your hands. The feeling of your thumb pads rubbing against his skin managed to soothe him. Seeing no negative reaction, you brought yourself to move closer towards his trembling body. You held him in your arms.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,“ you whispered. Your lips ghosted over the shell of his ear, and he could feel the heat of your body.

He nodded between his cries and let you cradle him like nobody else was watching. He let you whisper sweet nothings into his ear. Fushiguro Megumi allowed himself to believe in your sweet words, he allowed himself to feel as if everything was fine.

A tingling feeling appeared in Megumi’s stomach. He clutched his heart. It was happening again. The numbers appeared again. He gathered his courage to look up, at the top of your head.

His heart dropped.

70 years, 2 months, 12 days.

For the first time since he learned about his ability, after outliving both his parents, his sister and his best friends-- Megumi wasn’t going to outlive another loved one.

The gush of relief Megumi was feeling caused him to cry even more. Under the half moon, he sobbed into your chest ‘till his tears were dry.

“Megs, look,” you tilted his head upwards to look at you. You shot him a reassuring smile and rubbed his shoulders.

You pretended to pick something up from Fushiguro’s shoulder and placed the nothingness on your own shoulders. Megumi sniffled and furrowed his eyebrows. You did it over and over again, your patience was starting to wear off.

“This, what is this you’re carrying on your shoulder?” you asked, continuing the action again, but slowly.

“Air?”

“No! Try again,” you acted the scene out slower. Rub his shoulders, pretend to pick something up then place them on your shoulders. “What are you carrying on your shoulders, Megumi?”

The 24-year-old man’s face contorted into confusion, “um-- shoulder ache?”

You grunted, “no! Ugh… burdens, Megumi! Burdens!”

His face grew even more confused, to the point where he was tilting his head, eyeing you curiously.

“Your burdens,” you picked the non-existent materials from Megumi’s shoulders, placing them on top of your own shoulders, “I picked some of your burdens and placed them on me. So, it becomes our burdens. Not just yours. We carry them together.”

Fushiguro Megumi was astounded.

“Our burdens?” he repeated, his hands trailing their way up to your arms, lightly squeezing them.

“Our burdens, Megumi.”

He looked down and mumbled the words quietly. Repeatedly. Like a teenager continuously reciting their formulas to register and implant them in their head. The more he said the words, the more he felt like bursting into tears for the third time that night.

Finally, he took a deep breath, nodding to himself before looking back up to you;

“Our burdens.”

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[yejiroh]

Siren Scales & Village Tales

•••

For @chaoticyuna 's Summerween event!

Siren Gojo with a female reader.

Word count: 2.3k

TW: large bodies of water, bullying, blood.

•••

“The water was always murky by the bog trees, billows of dirt and sod and other bits always falling into the water by the pounds. Further down the dirt road that passes through the swamp, and you’d find a well, then a town.

“A merchant’s town, children waddled through the puddles that filled the pit holes- it wasn’t a rich area, despite all the good business. In the center of the town, a big fountain captured the sun’s rays during the golden hour- usually around 5 in the afternoon.

“Now, back to the well- it’s kind of important.

“The well, around 3 feet wide, was built of what was now crumbling bricks- terribly small, but just big enough to fall down; should you be unlucky enough.

“But there was also a rumor- as there is in every town and village. And, like other rumors that resided in other towns and villages, it was that of the supernatural. But in this case…

“Sirens.

“Sirens were fish tailed peoples with webbed hands and glowing eyes. It was said that if you ever heard one singing, you’d be inclined to bring yourself forward, to take their hand and fall.”

“Fall?”

“Yes, fall. Fall down the well, they would tell you. However, once in a blue moon, there’s a survivor, one who crawls their way up from hell and back to the siren as if they were addicted to their voice; coming back every day while the sun is still up, just to leave crying their eyes out as the sun comes down.”

“Why only during the day?”

“Well, no one knows. It’s just something that happens. Like a law of nature.”

***

“Don’t you think it’d be better to just relax once in a while? It wouldn’t hurt you, I promise.”

Despite all the reassurances of saying a story was a story until proven otherwise, better safe than sorry. And the only well in a 15 mile radius was this one. 

Curse them for being so cheap. 

Your hands burned from the rope as you dragged the bucket up, clear water sloshing around spilling out some. 

“Nanami, with all due respect, you are the last one I want to hear the word ‘relax’ from.”

Gravel bits dug into the souls of your shoes, some chunky enough to feel even through the rubber. It kind of stung. 

“Y/n, I’m going to be frank with you; mermen? They don’t exist. Neither do griffins, or hydras, or any of that fairy tail nonsense you’re always babbling about. It’s just us two, and old Mr. Gakuganji down the road.”

Sighing, Nanami adjusted his glasses, not bothering to wait for you as he loaded the last gallon onto the wagon, getting ready to go. 

***

People surged forward, coins and paper money grasped in hands before thrown at you two, grabbing at the jars of the well water. It was always like this, the town coming up to the well water like it was their life sustainer, and maybe for some, it was. 

“Y/n! Welcome back! Did you see anything unnatural today?”

A mocking laugh, a tall man tore his shirt off- Aoi Todo. Behind him, the Zen’in twins chuckled.

“Actually Todo, I haven’t. BUT, I do have something else to note. That well water you’re drinking? It hasn’t been boiled yet.”

Watching his face contort, a smile is set on your face as Aoi began to hurl, tiny worms and water with last night's feast falling onto his feet.

“Y/n! What the hell! Did your siren buddy put you up to this?”

“What happened to them not being real?”

It was the same conversation everyday. And, like everyday, you was met with a horrible answer.

Todo scoffed before spitting onto the ground, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

“No man is every gonna want you, you stupid woman.”

“And if I don’t want to marry?”

***

As the hours passed, dusk came, bringing the stormy clouds with it- but it wasn’t yet raining. A ripple in the lake waters caught your eye- maybe a fish, but the fish weren’t in season, so it was unlikely. 

You shouldn’t have been out after curfew- there were rules for a reason, yeah, but what was the harm? Especially after dinner, where you’d only had time for stale bread; chewing down the more than stale pieces was troubling. 

The sands of the lake were dry, like all the water had been taken from the ground, pooling into the lake. Odd.

“A  law of nature? But that's so…”

“Boring? Stupid? Illogical? Aye, it is.”

Kneeling down, you dipped your fingers into the water. There was something missing from the story the elders told you, you're sure of it; no matter how many times you waved your hand in the shallows, not a single ripple- only from that tail you saw earlier. 

Something rumbled, whether or not it was the stormy clouds or your stomach, you didn’t bother to check. 

Dipping your feet into the water, a sigh of relief escapes your lips- a breath let go you didn’t know you were holding. 

Another roll of thunder- but something caught your eye; the tail again. 

It was only for a moment, but you could make out the colors and fin shape. Various shades of blue and silver and yellows, shifting in the light, and the fin, large and (almost) pillowy. 

It hit the water, disappearing once again. 

“Stran-THE HELL?

Digits quickly grabbed your foot, webbed and slimy, pulling you under before you could scream. 

Something pressed into your mouth- maybe seaweed? Bitter and salty, whatever it was was quickly shoved down your throat, forcing you to swallow. 

As clear as the water was on the top, it was far too dark and dirty underneath. The vice grip that had pulled you down was now dragging you deeper, the breath you were saving long gone with the swallow, your eyes began to close. 

‘Count the digits!’

A tiny raise of suspicion, you felt around for a limb, feeling up before coming to your wrist. 

Forcing your eyes to open, the tears that pricked at your eyes were quickly swept away with the current.  

Head feeling light, panic was soon replaced with adrenaline, and you raised your legs, knees to your chest, before kicking out hard. Your feet hit the thing holding you, and it let go quickly, allowing you a chance to escape. 

Already out of breath, you swam up as fast as you could, finally breaking through the water’s surface. You sucked in a deep breath, coughing violently as you wiped the water and dirt out of your eyes, hurrying to the land. 

Behind you, waves crashed, and the water of the lake that seemed crystal clear was now red and thickened. The air became heavy with the scent of iron, and soon the entire lake shifted up, sands and all, dragging you up with it.

“Now, now, it's not strange, is it? I think it’s quite the opposite. Normal even.”

You found yourself in the palm of a hand- or, in the webbing between fingers that curled in, as if to cradle you.

Finally getting a good look at the thing in question, it didn’t take long to put two and two together; the fish from the beginning, the thing that pulled you under...and now…

“I’m Y/n, what the fuck are you, and what’s your name? Also, you’re hot.”

And it was true. Big glossy blue eyes that seemed to be lashed by the purest white doves feathered around,the hair, just as white as the lashes, seemed to trail deep down, and looking down, you leaned over it’s thumb, holding it tight as you peered down. Purple scales glimmered all the way down. 

Two fingers grabbed your collar, picking you up, bringing you to face an eye. 

“You’re a funny little thing- I could just eat you up”-it opened its mouth, biting the air before laughing”- “I am Gojo. You’ve heard of me, yes? I’m a Siren...but I guess the more accurate description would be to say that I am this lake. And thank you, Y/n. You’re much too kind, considering I was about to drown you. Here, let me brush you off.”

As Gojo patted you down, your insides churned; it was much too fast, and to be frank, it was more like you were getting spanked. It didn’t help that dust clouds rolled off you. 

“Y-you-ow-’re a -OW-guy?- STOP THAT HURTS!”

Gojo laughed, smiling as you coughed and waved your arms.

“A guy hmm...I suppose I am. You’re quite big for a fairy. And what the hell are you doing near a lake with no wings?”

“Fairy? I’m a human. There’s a whole ass village down the road through the forest.”

“Human? Oh...Ohh, yeah that makes a lot of sense.”

“Are mermaids- sorry, sirens- -lake dudes?”

“Lake dude, siren, doesn’t matter.”

“Right. Are y’all supposed to be this huge?”

 Gojo gasped, a webbed hand on his chest and mouth hanging open before promptly putting you down, laying down himself as his lower half dissolved into water, the pit that was the lake somewhat there again.

“Big? You think I’m big? I’m just a small lake! You flatter me Y/n!”

Propping himself on his elbows, he rested his face in his palms, looking at you with a smile. 

“Eh, it wasn’t for flattery- just curiosity.”

“Still...well, now I feel bad. I was gonna eat you.”

“Eat me?”

“Yeah.” Gojo scoffed before looking down, glaring at the ground. “There’s this human who calls himself Todo- a real-

“Pain in the ass? Insufferable? Obnoxious? Egotistic? A liar?”

“YES EXACTLY- you know him?” Gojo put his head down, and you watched in interest as some of him crumbled to sand before promptly climbing up onto his nose.Tapping it lightly, you let out a out a small “oomph” as he rose up, eyes on you. 

“Yeah, I know him. He’s actually why I’m here now- kinda. The fucking jerk kept messing with me, talkin’ about how, ‘Oh, Y/n, did you see anything weird? A siren perhaps?’ and yeah, the fucking town laughed at me, but it’s okay, cause the well water he drank hadn’t been purified ye-”

Gojo interrupted you, waving his hands around in the water before bursting into laughter.

“The WELL? Not the one by this place I hope? Oh god, thank Yaga y’all purify that!”

Joining in the laughter nervously, you asked why, which sent the siren bawling into more laughter,forcing him to place you on his head so you wouldn’t fall off.

“Oh, oh my gosh- stop tugging my hair Y/n- that well water is connected to this lake- me! Y’all would have been drinking my piss and body had you not purified it! And I can’t have a pretty thing like you melting from the inside out and drowning in your own blood because of scales or something!”

“So...what I’m getting at here is...Todo is going to die if he hasn’t already? I mean, he spit it out, but he still drank a bit-”

A sudden burst of wind, you tugged Gojo’s hair again, holding on so tight your knuckles turned white. 

Gojo hummed, deep in thought before exhaling slowly.

“Well- no pun intended-, I believe he’d turn into a fish. At least, that's what happened to the last guy who did that. Man, he was a crazy one. Called himself Get, going on and on about how everything he consumed he could turn into. Weird shit, Y/n.”

“Turned into a fish but could shapeshift?”

“Ah yeah- you guys know magic and stuff is real right? Anyways, my body, as you can see, is basically this entire lake- not like a lake god or something. Once I die, this place will have never existed. Back to what I was saying, I have a strict ‘no-no’ policy. A little spell just so I could get more dinner. And, I don’t think anyone would want to just be a lake their whole damn life.”

“Huh...that makes sense.”

“Yeah. “

“So…”

The two of you paused for a moment, and you couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly; to think that sirens were only bloodthirsty monsters- well, he did try to kill you, and it was true that they were beautiful, but the fact that you were literally sitting on the head of one now- one who claimed to be small- it was entirely laughable. 

Clearing your throat, you crawled over, leaning down to come facing his eyes once again, poking his forehead.

“Say...Gojo, you wouldn’t mind eating Todo if he turned into a fish right?”

“Hmmm...not really. Why?”

“Just asking. I’ll drop by here tomorrow, yeah? It’s getting late, and I gotta make sure no one took my dumplings.”

And with that, you said your goodbyes, promising to meet again, you with your vial of well water and siren scales, and Gojo with a gold coin.

“Payment, my dear. Nothing is free in this life, you know. Hopefully now you’ll have some better village tales to tell now.”

[heyyyharry]

Deep End - Chapter 4: Royal Ball

…in which Ezi causes trouble at the Styles' manor.

Word count: 6.1k

AU: famous!harry, siren!mc, adult modern retelling of the little mermaid? lol, fake dating, enemies to lovers.

WARNING: MATURE THEMES, ASSAULT.

All chapters / Synopsis / Moodboard / Playlist

Wattpad link

A/N: Please let me know what you think. I need feedback to feel motivated. Also, what do you expect to happen in the next chapter?

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When Harry came to the guest room this morning and couldn’t find Ezi, he had hoped that something had happened overnight, and she’d magically returned to where she’d come from, and he, at last, could have his old life back. But no. He was immensely disappointed to find her sitting cross-legged on the edge of his pool, just staring blankly at the water like she was in a sad music video. What did he expect? It wasn’t like she could grow some wings to fly all the way home.

“Good morning!”

Ezi flinched at the sound of his voice. She pulled her feet out of the water and frantically stood up as Harry approached.

He held out his hand to ask her to stay. “It’s okay. You can use the pool. I rarely go swimming anyway.”

Ezi’s brows furrowed slightly as she tucked a strand behind her ear and stared anxiously at the blue water. “How can you swim in this pond? It smells funny.”

“It’s not a pond. It’s a swimming pool. There’s chemicals in it; that’s why it smells like that.”

Ezi cocked her head, seemingly confused. “Why you gotta make your own pond and put chemicals in it? Why do humans have to make their own versions of everything that’s already available in nature?”

“It’s cleaner and safer to swim in pools,” Harry pointed out.

Ezi couldn’t look more offended by his remark. “The ocean was clean before you trashed it with your chemicals.”

“I didn’t trash the ocean,” Harry corrected, pointing to his chest. “How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not responsible for environmental pollution?”

Ezi folded her arms and glared at him. “Why are you afraid of the ocean?”

“You’re literally a killing machine.”

“You people make machines that shoot fire and blow up each other’s ships, and yet we’re the killing machines.”

“Well, the ocean is scary anyway. It’s deep and dark.”

“It’s literally water,” argued Ezi. “Water is the driving force of all nature, and you’re afraid of it.”

“Forget it.” Harry exhaled as he tossed his hands in the air. “I can never win an argument with you.”

“Good,” Ezi said with a slight shrug.

“Anyway.” Harry rolled his eyes. “Come inside for breakfast. I have something to discuss with you while you eat.”

“Your maid brought you something this morning,” Ezi said when Harry was about to walk away.

Slowly, he turned back to face her with his eyebrows raised. “Who?”

“Your maid,” she said with a straight face. “The girl with green hair. I think she brought you some clothes and put them in the room next to mine.”

“That’s Amy, my assistant!” cried Harry as he gripped his own hair. “You two didn’t have a conversation, right? Please tell me you didn’t call her a maid to her face!”

Ezi looked rather amused when she saw how distressed Harry was. How could she be smiling? He wouldn’t be the only one who’d be in trouble if her identity was revealed. Fuck that. What if the government found out that he was keeping her here and locked him up, too? Was it a crime to keep a mythical creature in your house? Could he be executed for that?

“No,” Ezi calmly said while Harry could feel the blood draining from his face. “She just brought you some clothes and left. Though I could barely see her face, she didn’t seem very friendly.”

Harry pressed a palm to his chest, feeling his heart thundering as he let out a sigh of half-formed relief. Once he’d regained his composure, he told Ezi, “Amy is friendly to everyone. Maybe it’s just you.”

Ezi didn’t look at all bothered by that. She shrugged. “I’m not here to make friends. I don’t care if Amy likes me.”

Harry found it funny that one moment she could look and talk like a human girl with human feelings, and the next she acted as cold as the ocean she’d come from. But she was right. They weren’t friends, and there was no reason for them to be more than just civilised to one another.

“You sure you didn’t talk to Amy?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Good,” Harry nodded. “Come inside. The food’s getting cold.”

It seemed like Ezi got hungry very quickly. She finished the hard scrambled eggs Harry had made for her and even asked him for more. Harry didn’t mind feeding her. It was better to keep her full. After all, she had shown him her predator side, and he’d prefer to never see it again.

“So what’s something you want to tell me?” she asked with her mouth full while stuffing it more with another big bite.

Chilli was sitting at Ezi’s feet, staring up at her as a way of asking for a taste, but Ezi just ignored the cat and continued to enjoy her breakfast.

Harry knitted his hands on the table and straightened his back as he began, “Well, I actually wanted to ask you for a favour.”

Ezi stopped chewing immediately. She swallowed hard, her face contorted. “I’m not doing you a favour.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“But I already know that I don’t want to do it.”

“Of course you want to do it.”

“No, I don’t!”

Harry sucked in a breath and held up a finger to stop her from interrupting him again. “I promise you’ll like this. Just hear me out.”

Ezi folded her arms in front of her chest and pouted like an angry little girl as she sank into her chair.

Harry’s lips curled into a smile. “You like those Disney movies, right?”

Ezi nodded, and Harry watched in content as the line between her brows eased.

“Good. So what if I tell you that you can be a Disney princess for one night.”

“What do you mean?” Ezi frowned again as she sat up straight. “Are you messing with me?”

Harry shook his head. “No, I’m being dead serious. I’ll take you to a ball.”

“A ball?”

“Yeah. I’m invited to a royal ball that’s held in a real ballroom, like the one in Beauty and the Beast.”

He would’ve said Cinderella, but she hadn’t watched it yet. It would’ve been a better reference. Still, Ezi’s eyes lit up when she heard about the ball. “Like...in a castle?”

“Y-Yeah.” Harry worked up a bright smile as he nodded fast. “A castle.” To be fair, his mother’s manor was as huge as a castle. It was twice the size of his house, so that’d be more than enough to convince the naive siren.

“Do I get to wear a pretty dress?”

“Yeah. Who do you think the clothes Amy brought here are for?”

The realisation washed over Ezi’s face, and her mouth fell open in shock as she slammed her hands on the table, rattling the silverware and startling Chilli. “You’re not messing with me?”

“No.”

She bit her lip and arched an eyebrow. “What’s the favour then?”

“That’s the favour -- You going to the ball with me,” Harry said. “It’s tomorrow night.”

“What’s in it for you?”

“Nothing, to be honest,” Harry said with a weak shrug. “Maybe getting back in my mother’s good graces. She’s hosting the ball, and so many people are invited.”

“Is she the Queen?”

“No, but she thinks she is.”

“So she’s like my sister Koa.”

Harry chuckled at how serious Ezi looked when she said that. “Well, maybe not as bad as your sister. My mother loves me.”

Ezi pursed her lips as she focused on fidgeting with the fork in her hand. Harry leaned forward on the table. “So?” he asked. “Can you help me?”

Ezi blew out her cheeks as she locked eyes with him again. “Fine,” she said. “Not because I want to help you, though. I just want to go to a ball.”

“Good enough for me.” Harry smiled.

While Ezi continued eating, Harry gave her a few rules that she would have to follow when they arrived at his family’s event. He could not risk having her interact with anyone without his supervision. He’d nearly had a heart attack when he heard that she’d met his assistant when he wasn’t there. He was sure that Amy had only assumed Ezi was another girl Harry regularly hooked up with. Money didn’t really matter to him, so he usually spoiled his friends and the girls he fucked. However, he couldn’t risk having anyone find out that Ezi was actually living here.

When Ezi finished eating, Harry went upstairs to get the bath ready. He’d have to figure out a way to give Ezi a bath without having to touch her. How would she feel about hot water, though? His cat Chilli always left at least one or two scratches on his legs and his shirt whenever he tried to give her a bath. He could imagine Ezi doing the same.

“Hey.”

Harry whipped his head to the bathroom door and found Ezi standing there in his joggers and Mickey Mouse t-shirt that flowed down to her thighs. He must admit that she looked cute when she wasn’t frowning or roasting him. If only she’d lost her voice like Ariel did in the movie.

“Stop staring at me, human!”

Exactly his point.

Sighing, Harry got up from the edge of the bathtub. “We’ll let the water run,” he told her. “In the meantime, I’ll show you your new clothes.”

Ezi said nothing and followed him down the hall to his walk-in closet. It was actually a room with big windows, a shiny tiled floor, and white-cushioned sofas. Harry took a deep breath of the comforting perfumed air only to see Ezi covering her mouth and nose with her palm.

“It smells weird in here,” she complained.

“Just like living with my mum,” Harry whispered to himself. To her, he said, “Speaking of smells.”

Ezi looked horrified as Harry leaned in and started sniffing her.

“Why don’t you smell?” he asked, stepping back.

Her eyes went wide. “Am I supposed to?”

“Well, yeah.” He nodded. “You literally came from the ocean. No offence but...you’re supposed to smell fishy.”

“Do humans say no offence before they offend you?”

“Yeah, pretty much. Or maybe I’m just blunt because I’m British. Anyway,” Harry sucked in a breath, “it’s weird that you don’t smell. You don’t have a smell at all. When you first came on land, I could still smell a bit of the ocean on you, but now you don’t smell, and you haven’t showered.”

Ezi shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not like I could ask my mother why her curse didn’t give me a smell.”

“True.” Harry sighed. “Anyway. That’s good. Don’t want no fishy-smelling girl walking around my house.”

“I will scoop out your eyeballs right now.”

“Just kidding.” Harry chuckled. “But please don’t do that.”

“I’ll try.” Ezi put her hands on her hips and swept her eyes around the room. “Why do you have so many clothes?”

“They make me look good. I’m a public figure, so I care about my appearance.”

“Maybe you should focus on fixing what’s inside you and not your appearance.”

“I like you better when you don’t talk,” Harry said, then brushed past her to grab the Chanel shopping bag Amy had left on the white marble counter. He pulled out a sparkling silver slip dress and held it up to show Ezi. “This is for you. It comes with a pair of high heels. I’ll definitely have to teach you to walk in them, but baby steps.”

Ezi took the dress with both hands and was being as careful as possible as if she was afraid she might rip it. Although she didn’t let it show, he could make out the excitement in the way her eyes twinkled. He’d made sure to ask for a dress that looked similar to the one Ariel had worn in The Little Mermaid when she’d come from the ocean.

“Before you try this on,” he said when Ezi lifted her bright blue eyes up to him. “Repeat what I told you earlier.”

Ezi clutched the dress to her chest and glanced up at the ceiling. A line appeared between her brows as she recited Harry’s words, “Do not talk to anyone there unless you ask me to. Never leave your side. If I have questions, ask you in private. Um...what else? Oh! Avoid your mother at all costs.”

Harry nodded. “My mother and Dawson.”

“Who’s Dawson?”

“You’ll know.” With a sigh, Harry thrust his hands into his pockets. “Now, I’ll leave you here to change. I could only guess your measurements, so if it doesn’t fit, we can have it fixed as soon as possible.”

“Measurements?” Ezi looked down at her body, confused.

Harry cleared his throat and waved his hand at her. “Just hurry up and change. Let me know when you’re done.”

“Wait!”

“What?”

With a cute little pout, she asked, “Can you put it on me?”

Harry was shocked for a second when he heard that, but then he remembered that Ezi had never worn a dress before, let alone one with so many...strings.

“Here.” He took the dress from her and tried his best to demonstrate. “So this is the front. This is the back. This string goes over your right shoulder–No, wait, your left. Wait, is it? Hold on. Fuck.”

Ezi breathed out a laugh and covered her mouth with her hands, making Harry glare at her. “Fine,” he huffed. “I’ll help you put it on.”

“Good.”

Before Harry could even say a word, Ezi pulled his oversized t-shirt that she was wearing over her head, and Harry let out the most inhuman scream as he looked away and covered his eyes. She was naked underneath his shirt. Completely naked.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he chanted into his palm when he heard the sound of the shirt falling to the floor.

“What is it?” Ezi asked.

“Oh, God.” Harry shrugged her hand away as she tried to take his.

“Why are you being weird?” She giggled as if she wasn’t standing fully naked in front of him. “You’ve seen me without clothes, and I’ve seen you,” she said.

“Fuck. I know that.” He exhaled. “But…” Harry stopped and took a deep breath. With one hand over his eyes, he calmly told her, “You need lingerie.”

“Ooooh. I learned this word today from a movie,” Ezi said with confidence. “Laundry means–”

“No, not laundry.” Harry sighed. “Lingerie.”

“Huh?”

“Okay, you know what? Put the shirt back on. I’ll return with more clothes for you.”

“More clothes?” Ezi cried with frustration as Harry turned his back to her. He heard her put the shirt on, and she tapped him on the shoulder when she was done. “I hate being humans,” she complained, looking cross. “Clothes are so uncomfortable.”

“I know, right?” Harry chuckled and patted her on the head. He liked seeing her face scrunch up whenever he did that, because he knew that she couldn’t harm him. “Be a good siren and stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“And help me put on clothes?”

He sighed and turned away. “I will.”

“And launderey?”

The question stopped Harry at the door. He pinched his eyes shut and pressed a fist to his forehead. “Yes.” He let go of a defeated long breath. “That, too.”

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Harry managed to find a brand new pair of underwear in his bedroom drawer. It was an embarrassing story, but he’d bought it as a gift for a girl he used to sleep with, then he found out she’d been lying to him about not having a boyfriend when she’d already been engaged. So now he just happened to have a set of new lingerie lying in his drawer.

“I don’t know if this would fit, but I’ll get you new ones tomorrow.” Harry froze in the doorway when he found his closet empty. “Chili, where’s the crazy girl?” he asked his black cat, who didn’t even bother to reply as she kept licking her little paw. Ugh, lucky for her, she was cute.

“Ezi! Where are you?!” Harry shouted as he padded down the hall.

“I’m here!” Ezi shouted back, her voice echoing from the bathroom.

It was only then that Harry remembered he’d left the water running, but when he got there, he found Ezi sitting in the bubble bath with a bright smile on her face; his joggers and Mickey Mouse t-shirt had been discarded on the floor.

He leaned a shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed, smiling at her.

“I love this room!” she exclaimed, gathered bubbled in her palms and blew at them.

So, Harry was wrong. She liked warm baths.

“Water was spilling out, so I turned it off and gave myself a bath,” she told him.

“You know how?”

“I saw Ariel take a bath in the movie.”

Her response made him laugh. “Wow, you learn so much from Disney films.”

Ezi folded her arms on the edge of the tub as Harry sat down on it beside her. She glanced up at him, chin on her arm. It would be a lie to say Harry didn’t feel anything watching her covered in soap and naked in his bathtub. The steam made him sweat, dampening his shirt as it stuck to his skin. He wasn’t a sex addict or anything, but he’d been so stressed out lately and hadn’t been able to find a release with his unpaid babysitting job. It wouldn’t be a problem if Ezi’s human form wasn’t so attractive.

“Stop doing that,” Ezi’s voice pulled him back to reality.

He blinked at her. “Doing what?”

“You sometimes stare at me without saying anything.”

He pressed his lips into a smirk. “Aren’t you a clever girl? Just read my mind.”

“Can’t.” She shrugged while unconsciously spreading the bubbles across the edge of the tub. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t want to know what’s going on in that dirty little head of yours?”

The way she’d said it without the intention of making it flirty was so funny to Harry.

“Your head is dirty and little,” he teased.

“No. Yours.”

“Yours.”

“Yours.”

“Your head can literally fit between my palms,” said Harry as he cupped the sides of her heads to demonstrate. For the first time, Ezi burst out laughing and tried to shove him off. He didn’t let go of her, and they kept pushing back and forth until Harry lost his balance and fell headfirst into the tub.

The water splashed all over. When Harry realised what had happened, he found himself kneeling in the water between Ezi’s legs. Frantically, he pushed away, but the tub was so slippery that he landed back down on his butt. Laughter crackled out of Ezi as Harry managed to escape from the sticky situation and grabbed a towel to cover himself with. Most of the water had spilt outside the tub, revealing Ezi’s soapy breasts, which gave Harry an instant boner.

He grabbed another towel and held it up and open as he ordered. “Bathtime’s over. Get out.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Ezi said, still laughing as she stood up and let him wrap the towel around her body.

Harry frowned at her playful grin. “You’re the idiot,” he said, but his face was red. “Rinse yourself. I’ll wait.”

Then he waddled out of the bathroom, quietly cursing himself.

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To not make the same mistake, Harry taught Ezi how to put on underwear by having her put it on over her clothes first, then letting her do it herself when he wasn’t there. She was a fast learner, so it didn’t take long until she’d learned how to put on clothes and tie her shoes. He could now imagine how hard it must be for single parents to raise a kid all by themselves. He was lucky that he didn’t have to work this week and could stay home to take care of Ezi. But starting from next week, he would have to go back to his busy celebrity life, and Ezi living with him would become a bigger problem than he’d expected. He could only hope that her mother would just take her back before the following Monday. It didn’t seem possible, though. He should never have brought her to London.

Anyway, first things first.

He’d have to get through his mother’s event without anyone suspecting a thing, and then he’d try to figure out what he should do next.

This was why he didn’t want kids. At least Ezi had common sense.

“Hey, there will be so many humans tonight at the ball. What if one of them triggers me? I can’t even threaten them?”

Forget what he’d just said.

“No, you’re not allowed to threaten anyone,” he told her from outside her room and blew out his cheeks as he checked his watch. “Hurry up. Our ride is almost here.”

The door was pulled open. Ezi emerged in her sparkling silver dress with her hair in a messy bun and subtle makeup but enough to accentuate her unique features. Harry didn’t know he was gawking until she gave him a playful smack on the cheek to bring him back to Earth. He blinked and caught her big round eyes. The silvery glitter on her eyelids made the blue in her eyes stand out even more. A sudden chill rushed down his spine as he squared his shoulders and fixed his black tie. “Y-You did your hair and makeup?”

Ezi nodded enthusiastically. “The girl in the magic board taught me!”

“You were watching those makeup tutorials?”

Harry swore he had never seen her so happy. She smiled so big that her eyes crinkled at the corners. “Thank you for that board, by the way.”

“It’s an iPad. But you’re welcome.”

Yes, he’d got her an iPad so she could watch YouTube videos and play dumb games and not be all up in his business. He was a single dad now. First to Chilli. Now to Ezi.

“An iPad,” Ezi mumbled to herself. He thought it was cute how her eyebrows would furrow every time she learned a new word and tried to memorise it.

Realising that he was about to simp, Harry shook off those pleasant thoughts about the fish girl and put on a nonchalant expression as he looked down at her white ballerina flats. He’d got her a nice pair of high heels to wear with this dress, but she’d kept falling and broken a vase in the living room, so he’d given up and got her these flats instead. Well, as long as she was comfortable and still looked cute and appropriate.

“Ready?” he asked her.

She took a deep breath; determination lit up her eyes. “Ready.”

“Hold on.” He held her shoulder, took a nice look at her, then let down two strands from her bun, so they nicely framed her face. “Better.” He smiled and pinched her cheek. “You look like someone I would date.”

As expected, Ezi responded to his compliment with a frown and smacked his hand away. “Touch my face again, and I’ll make sure you won’t be able to touch anything again.” Then she shoved past him and hurried down the stairs.

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Ezili felt ashamed.

She had been looking forward to the ball tonight. She’d been so excited that she’d stayed up to watch those...what did Harry call them again? Oh, makeup tutorials. Just to look like those human girls with sparkling eyelids. The mermaids back home would be so impressed, but her mother certainly wouldn’t. She didn’t even want to imagine her mother’s reaction to her look tonight.

Harry had pointed out that human Ezili didn’t have a smell. In an animal kingdom, the signature smell set those animals apart from the other kinds and acted as proof that they were a part of a community, that they belonged. Human Ezili not having a smell was a reminder from her mother that she was not a siren right now, but she was not human either, and so she should finish her mission as soon as possible to return to the sea and be with her kind.

Ezili could not be distracted from her mission anymore. Harry had invited her to the ball, which meant there was no competition for her at this point. She was already making progress being the only female in his radar. Tonight, she hoped the romantic atmosphere of the ball would make him fall in love with her.

With her arm around his, they ascended the red-carpeted stairs of the castle leading to the ballroom. Ezili was amazed by the guests in fancy attires and expensive decorations sparkling silver and gold. The ballroom was impressive, with crystal chandeliers spiralling down from the arching sky-blue ceiling, illuminating the glimmering walls and a floor so polished it looked like a frozen winter lake.

Harry said their names to a servant at the door, and he bowed to Harry and Ezili as if they were royalty. Ezili didn’t show it, but she enjoyed being treated like the princess she knew she was.

“Finally, someone showing respect to me,” she mumbled as they followed the other guests inside.

Harry laughed at her remark. “I respect you.”

“You don’t even respect yourself,” she said, glaring at him.

“Can you just not insult me tonight? You’re pretending to be my date.”

“What’s a date?”

“Like...lovers,” Harry said, flicking his eyes around like the prey trying to spot a predator.

She thought she should calm him down, so she squeezed his forearm and said, “Do you wanna dance?”

Harry shook his head. “No, not the time.”

Confused, Ezili’s eyes followed Harry’s worried gaze to the lady in a seaweed coloured dress that fanned out at her feet. She was beautiful, with features resembling Harry's. That must be Harry’s mother -- the host of the ball.

“Remember what I told you,” Harry said, squeezing Ezili’s cold hands. “Do not say a word to my--Mother!”

“Oh, my darling son, you came!”

Harry let go of Ezili to hug his mother. The woman pulled away and turned to Ezili with the same dimpled smile as her son’s. “Ahh, this must be Ezili,” she said, and Ezili shook her hands like how humans did in movies.

“Yes.” Harry cleared his throat as he laced his fingers with Ezili’s. “This is my date -- Ezili Hans.”

His mother smiled at him. “I was afraid you were gonna bring Niall with a wig.”

“Didn’t work the last time,” Harry said. “Never do it again.”

Harry’s mother laughed before turning back to Ezili. “It’s so nice to meet you. You may call me Mrs Styles, or Annalise. What do you think about this event?”

Ezili flicked her helpless gaze to Harry, who quickly spoke on her behalf, “She thinks it’s great. Very s-shiny.” Seeing Annalise’s smile vanished, Harry added, “Sore throat. The doctor says she has to stay silent for a week. Also, do you mind if I show her around and introduce her to the other guests?”

“Wait, but we haven’t--”

“Love you, Mum.”

Harry pecked his mother on the cheek, grabbed Ezili’s hand and pulled her with him. They finally made it outside to the garden’s fountain, where the guests were chatting in groups and sipping on wine. Harry released Ezili’s hand and exhaled through his mouth. “That was scary.”

“That was awful!” She hit him on the arm. “You almost blew our covers.”

“I know. I’m always anxious around my mum,” he said, looking distressed. “When I was little, she could always tell when I was lying.”

“Maybe you’re not a good liar.”

“Not as good as you,” he chuckled, putting his hands on his hips. “You know what? Changing plans. You’re allowed to talk, but just say simple things like ‘hello’, ‘how are you?’, ‘it’s wonderful’, bla bla.”

Ezili nodded. “Got it.”

Harry opened his mouth to say something else but suddenly froze; his eyes went wide. “Shit, that’s Aunt Beatrice.” Ezili looked over her shoulder to see a chubby late laughing with a group of people and being the loudest. “Super annoying,” Harry said. “Everyone in my family hates her.” He turned to Ezili and patted her on the shoulder. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

“Let me come with you.”

“Not when I’m talking to Satan. I mean, Aunt Beatrice. Just stay here and don’t talk to anyone.”

“But--”

Harry already left.

Ezili muttered curses at him under her breath. She had no choice but to sit by the fountain and wait for him to return. She saw him approaching the woman he hated with just a happy attitude as he’d had when talking to his mother. Fake. Humans were all pretentious and fake. They disgusted her. All these people.

“Hey, may I sit here?”

Ezili’s heart nearly jumped out of her chest when she heard the voice. She looked up and went stiff when she locked eyes with a tall handsome man. The black frame of glasses sat nicely on his high nose. His high cheekbones raised as he offered a polite smile. “Sorry. Am I bothering you?”

Ezili was thinking of what to say to him when she saw what was in his hand.

“An iPad!” she exclaimed. “I got one! Harry gave me one yesterday!”

The man looked at the iPad in his hand and chuckled. “Oh yeah, I brought it with me to read because I don’t really like these events.”

Ezili nodded fast. “I don’t, either. I’m so glad I’m not the only one.”

The man smiled again; his dark eyes twinkled with the fairy lights above their heads. “May I sit with you.”

“Sure!” Ezili hurriedly scooted over for the man to sit. Forget Harry. He’d told her never to leave his side then left her here all on her own, so who cared if she talked to one stranger? At least this one didn’t want to be here, either.

“What do you read on your iPad?” she asked him.

“I’d say books to impress you, but I’m actually reading a manga,” he said and chuckled. “Attack on Titan. Have you heard of it?”

Ezili shook her head. “Do they have something like this for The Little Mermaid?”

“I don’t know. But I’m sure they have a manga for everything these days, so you might find one about mermaids, too,” the man said and put the iPad down on his lap. “What’s your name?”

“Ezili...Hans. Ezili Hans,” said Ezili as she offered her hand.

The man shook it with another warm smile. “I’m Dawson Styles.”

It took Ezili a second to recognise that name. “Harry told me not to talk to you,” she mumbled, frowning.

However, Dawson didn’t look bothered by it. “Oh, right, you came here with Harry,” he said. “He gave you an iPad, right?”

“Yeah. He’s my...date.”

“So why are you here all by yourself?”

Ezili crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “He needed to talk to that loud lady over there. He said she was evil.”

Dawson leaned forward to look past her, and when he spotted Harry with his aunt, his mouth curled slightly. “Yup, that lady is scary. We’re all scared of her.”

“You know her?”

“Yeah, she’s my mum.”

Ezili flinched, her eyes shot open. “Oh...sorry.”

Dawson just laughed. “Well, Harry wasn’t wrong. My mother could be scary sometimes.”

“All mothers are,” muttered Ezili, but she wasn’t sure if Dawson had heard her.

“You’re from the States?” he asked.

She blinked. “What?”

“Your accent.”

“Oh. Y-Yeah.”

“How long have you been in London?”

“Just three days.”

“How do you like it?”

“It’s...grey.”

The answer made Dawson cackle. “Yeah, it is.” He lowered his head and adjusted his glasses. “Bet it’s way more sunnier where you’re from.”

Ezili lifted her shoulders. “I don’t like the sun that much either, so it’s all good.”

Dawson nodded. They sat in silence for two seconds, then he said, “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, not knowing what else to respond.

“How did you know Harry?”

Ezili was about to answer when she realised that Harry hadn’t taught her what to answer for this question. He’d probably assumed that they would be together all night, so he wouldn’t have to prepare her to lie about such basic information. Helplessly, she looked back to find Harry, but he wasn’t there anymore. Both he and Dawson’s mother had disappeared.

Ezili jumped to her feet. “Sorry, I have to go. It was nice talking to you, Dawson.” Without paying him a second look, she ran off to look for Harry.

He couldn’t have abandoned her, right? At least not here at his family’s ball. But how could she be so sure? She’d witnessed him being courteous to his enemy. That man could not be trusted.

Why were there so many people?

Where was she?

Ezili was too busy cursing Harry in her head that she hadn’t paid attention to where she was going. Now she found herself standing in an empty hall. She could hear the muffled sound of the ballroom behind her, so she intended to return to it.

“Hey, baby,” said a blond-haired man she ran into at a turn. She tried to sidestep him, but he was in her way. She blocked her nose with a finger and took a step back to keep a distance from him. He smelled funny. Why were his eyes red?

“H-Have you seen Harry?” she asked the man with the buzzcut. “Tall. Curly hair. Walks and talks slowly. Acts like he’s better than you when he’s not.”

“Harry?” The man snorted, his eyelids fluttered as if he might pass out any moment. He put a hand on the wall to keep his balance. “Damn, that motherfucker always lands the hotties.”

Ezili guessed that this man was not in his right mind to tell her where Harry was, so she pushed him aside to go. Suddenly, he caught her by the wrist and yanked her into him. “Hey, where are you going, baby?”

“Let me go!” she screamed and tried to shove him off. It seemed like all of her strength had disappeared with her tail. She felt helpless against this man. He managed to take both her wrists and pinned them above her head and her against the wall.

“Leave Harry,” he whispered into her ear, his breath hot and foul-smelling. She felt like she might throw up. “He’s trash anyway. The rat of the family. Can’t believe he’s getting all this when his mother dies.”

Ezili was trapped between the man’s stinky body and the wall. She knew she’d promised Harry not to attack anyone tonight, but she needed to fight for herself. Without hesitation, her teeth went straight for the man’s neck. He screamed and jumped back, losing his balance and dropping to the floor. Ezili could taste blood on her tongue as she licked her lip and gazed down at the terrified man. The bite mark on his neck was bleeding, staining the white collar of his suit.

“You bitch!”

“Ezi!”

Ezili whipped her head and found Harry, so she ran to him as the evil man clumsily got to his feet.

“What happened?” he asked her, his face pallid with fright.

“This bitch bit me!” the man shouted, pointing the finger at Ezili.

Harry turned back to her with rage in his eyes. “You bit my cousin?! I told you not to hurt anyone! What’s wrong with you?!”

“I didn’t have a choice,” she yelled back, angry that he’d believed the words of this bastard. “He was touching me! I don’t like being touched!”

The realisation flashed across Harry’s face. He put his hands on her shoulders; his eyebrows sloped as he swept his eyes from her head to toes. “Where did he touch you?”

“I didn’t do anything to your whore.”

Before Ezili could even react to those words, Harry went straight to him with his foot in his cousin’s stomach and again when his cousin tried to say something. Ezili had to grab his arm and pulled him away before he murdered someone. She didn’t care if he did, though. She just didn’t want to draw more attention to herself and get exposed in front of all the other guests.

Panting, Harry adjusted his tie and stabbed a finger at the man on the floor. “If I see you put your hands on a woman again, I’ll beat your ass and make sure you’ll never get to set foot back into this family again. You hear me?”

The man couldn’t speak, only whimper.

Ezili opened her mouth to question, but Harry stopped her by taking her hand. “Come with me.”

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

I Melt With You - Bakugou Katsuki

All Parts:

Part 7:

You don’t see him for nearly four weeks.

Apparently, Bakugou actually listening to your request was a one time deal- and you’d already used it up a month ago.

You watch him though- once again leafing through newspapers and headlines and hero highlights. Day by day he looks a little more angry, high-strung and volatile as he brushes aside nosy press and zealous citizens. He’s never mean to them, Dynamite never is, but he is short- no longer sticking around to bask in the praises so many seem to heap onto him. You begin to think that maybe that’s a hint of Bakugou showing though; a bit of whoever he is when he shows up at your door. The thought leaves you checking your balcony at night, hoping and praying not to see him standing there half-dead.

You think you understand now: no matter what he agreed to, Bakugou was still trying to fix his problems himself. And that’s perfectly fine, you know full well you’re not anyone special, but still, a part of you can’t help but hurt for him. Can’t help but wish he wasn’t so intent on running himself ragged for the entire world to see. 

When you see him next, Bakugou is knocking on your balcony door. Knuckles against the glass, sluggish and slow as he wraps another arm around his abdomen. He’s still in costume, but forgoing the mask- it’s hard to miss the purpling under his eyes, even harder to miss the blood dried up across his forehead.

“C’mon, did we not just have this conversation?” You sigh, ushering him in quickly. “The whole reason I told you to start coming over more often is because of this. Believe it or not, but I actually take no joy out of seeing you hurt.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Stop complaining. It’s a few busted knuckles and some blood- no need to bitch about it like I’m fuckin’ dying.”

Bakugou shuffles past you, hunched over and slow. He’s grunting, huffing in pain, twitching fingers clutching at the seared edge of his costume. There’s a hole burned through the material. His exposed ribs are covered in pink, angry skin.

“No, it’s burns too. Apparently.” You tell him, hovering just behind him. You help him settle on your couch. “Sit tight, I’ll go get the first aid kit. Maybe a few damp towels too.”

You follow a quick routine, gathering your med kit, and dampening a few towels with cool water. You’re back at his side in record time, cracking and shaking an instant cold-compress between your fingers. You wrap it in a towel, handing it to him.

“Just hold it. And don’t fight, please. If your knuckles swell up anymore it’s just going to be an even bigger mess for me.” You stare him down until he relents. “Actually, on second thought- wait on that. Take your shirt off first.”

“What the hell? No.”

“What do you mean, no? You’re wasting time, just take it off already. The burn isn’t gonna clean itself up and I can’t help you if all the fabric is in the way and I-“ 

You pause, looking up at his face. Bakugou won’t meet your eyes but he’s blushing. Just slightly, but you see it and you roll your eyes.

“Seriously? Now is literally the worst time for shame. Just do it. I don’t care. I see people’s bodies every day of my life.”

It’s Bakugou’s turn to roll his eyes, but then he huffs, sitting taller. He sucks in a harsh breath, biting out a curse as he shifts, arms rigid and tight when he shucks the costume off.

Under normal circumstances- you would probably be flustered. Although you were telling the truth, you did see people’s bodies every day, theirs never looked like Bakugou’s. Never looked like his defined pectorals and utterly ridiculous abs. Fortunately though, this wasn’t normal circumstances. Instead of smooth skin, Bakugou was covered in a large burn. A nasty looking one sprawling wide across his ribs, lines of irritation continuing to crawl red and angry up his back. You wouldn’t focus on anything but that.

“Sorry if this hurts. Really. But I have to.” You mutter, pressing a cool rag to the burn.

Bakugou sucks a breath, hissing before he screws his eyes shut. You try to apply gentle pressure, but even so, you’re sure it still hurts. It must if he’s hardly even fighting your treatment.

“The good news is, it’s only second degree.” You murmur, removing the rag gently, careful not to accidently drag it against his skin. “But, it’s across your ribs so it’ll probably hurt while you’re doing just about anything.”

“Coulda told you that my fuckin’ self.”

“I’m just saying. Just telling you what I think. Can I- can I ask you something though?”

He opens his eyes, squinting for a moment before he nods.

“It’s- I’m not sure how to say this, but these look identical to the burns you cause. Did you- did you do this to yourself?” You ask softly, delicately. “Are these from your quirk?”

Bakugou’s glare seems to intensify, red eyes seething and angry. You try not to shrink up, but truth be told, Bakugou cut an intimidating figure. A moment passes, and then he relents- eyes softening just a tiny bit as he averts them.

“Villain had a stupid quirk. Called it repel or some shit. Got blasted before I even knew what was happening.”

“So they’re yours, sort of, but not really. That’s alright. I only asked out of curiosity. Wasn’t trying to insinuate anything.”

“Yeah whatever, leech.”

“Hey, can you at least try to be nice to me?”

“No.”

“Yeah, probably should’ve guessed you’d say that.” You sigh, before backing away from him. You turn, digging through the first aid kit to find some gauze and medical tape. “Alright, sit up for me.”

Bakugou grunts, but does as he’s told. He hisses when the burned skin shifts, and you feel sorry for him all over again. It truly did look painful.

“Hey- uh, do you,”

“Spit it out already.”

“You barely let me even start- actually, you know what? Never mind. What I was gonna ask was,” You pause, looking up at him. “It looks like it hurts. Do you want my help? Like, my quirk I mean.”

“Fuck no.”

Bakugou’s face contorts into a sneer, jaw set and lips drawn thin across sharp teeth. He looks wild, and the tiredness in his eyes isn’t helping.

“Okay- okay, I get it. I won’t. I was just asking.” You assure, pressing some gauze lightly over the burn. Bakugou hisses again, and you wish he’d just let you help him already. “But really, it looks like it hurts, and I can see how tired you are on top of that. The option’s open, is all I’m saying. I wouldn’t mind.”

He just nods tightly before averting his eyes. You try to smile reassuringly at him, but something still doesn’t sit right with you. Maybe it’s the way his eyes look panicked, darting and tracking every shadow of your apartment, or maybe it’s the slight tremors you can feel under your fingertips. You wonder what happened- if he’d even tell you at all.

You shake the thought from your head, making quick work with the gauze. With gentle pressure you cover the large burn, securing the cloth with thin strips of medical tape. Under your hands, Bakugou seems rigid. He’s twitching and tensing, muscles contracting with every breath, his hands fisting the fabric of your couch. You watch him bite back another wince, squeezing the couch cushion until his knuckles go white. You finish covering the burn, resolving to try your earlier question again.

“Burns are one of the most painful injuries, you know. And yours is nothing to laugh at. So even if it’s only a little, just my skin and not my quirk, I’d still like to help you.” You start, sitting back on your knees to look up at him. “Only if you’d let me, though.”

Bakugou just stares, breathing slowly. His eye twitches, and then he speaks. “Why do you keep helping me?”

You blink back at him, the wind almost knocked out of your lungs. You’d already answered a similar question, several times, but this didn’t feel like those other times. Now his voice was quiet, defeated and grumbling, bitten out through uneven breaths. He wasn’t asking about everyone else- Bakugou was asking why you kept helping him.

You begin to wonder all over again- where he’d been, who he’d been fighting. Whoever if was seemed to still sit with him; puppeting him into asking things the Bakugou you knew would never ask.

“Because I meant what I said earlier. I don’t like seeing you hurt- especially not when I know I can help you.” You sigh, crossing your arms around your stomach. “I don’t like seeing anybody hurt, you know? And I mean, I know I’m not exactly saving people on the scale you are, but I still like to try. In my own way.”

Bakugou seems to just look at you for a moment, before his shoulders are slumping.

“Fine. Leech.”

“Huh?”

“Take your glove off.” He says flatly, hardly even blinking as he regards you. “One. And don’t use your quirk.”

You straighten a bit, nodding minutely. Bakugou watches you with intense focus, tracking you as you slip a glove off. You’re not sure what to do next, but then he’s grabbing hold of your wrist, curling his slightly shaking fingers around it. For a moment you assume the tremors must be residual adrenaline- but the feeling coursing through your veins next feels anything but that.

Your side feels hot, a burn crawling across your ribs to mirror Bakugou’s; but almost as soon as the heat rises, it’s snuffed out. Instead of the subtle warmth you’d come to associate with him- it’s cold. A chill through your veins as if you’d been out in the snow for too long. It’s not overwhelming, but you feel it, shivering slightly as goosebumps claim smooth skin. It’s fear- but more than anything else, it’s sadness. Something slow and sluggish. Makes your blood feel like gelatinous sludge until he lets go of you.

You feel a little sick, a little nauseous, and when you look at Bakugou it only makes the sinking feeling worse. He’s got his eyes closed, huffing a deep sigh of relief. Something that covers his entire face in solace and has your heart shattering.

You didn’t use your quirk- but you could tell, from a single touch, that whatever he was feeling, whatever he was dealing with, should’ve taken just about anyone out- but there he was. Solid and stubborn like always.

You wonder where he gets that strength from. What possible reserves Bakugou could possibly have left to drawn from.

He must see the look on your face because then he’s averting his eyes. “Don’t fuckin’ say anything. I already know, and I’m not gettin’ into it with you of all people.”

His insult hardly holds any bite, just defensiveness and strange apprehension. You steamroll right on past it.

“It’s- are you sure? Bakugou, that’s- I’ve never,”

“No.”

His tone is steel, eyes boring into yours with a resolve you’d never seen before. Bakugou seems unmovable in that moment, unbreakable, even as his body nearly collapses from exhaustion. It’s an impressive thing; to watch a fire catch on embers you could’ve sworn were doused already.

You think there’s a quiet strength in that- a power all his own that has nothing to do with explosions, or shouting, or fists.

“Yeah. Okay.” You nod. “That’s- I get it. Not tonight.”

Bakugou seems abated by that as he sinks back into the couch. He looks at you expectantly, and then flicks his eyes back to his bruised knuckles.

“Gonna fix this shit or not?” He grumbles. “It’s your fuckin’ job isn’t it?”

And just like that you’re shocked back to life. You slip your glove back on, pulling his bruised hands toward you.

His hands are a mottled mess of bruises and burns and scabbed over scrapes. They’re warm, nearly pulsating with heat, and you try your best to handle them delicately. Luckily, the cold compress seemed to have helped the swelling, and all you have left to do is press a few butterfly bandages into the larger cuts. It’s quick work and before you know it, you’re wrapping his knuckles up with an ace bandage.

“Hey, I have a question.” You start, carefully weaving the bandage around his hand. “You don’t have to answer or anything, but I am curious.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but he looks a little more tired then before. Less combative. “Go. Ask.”

“It seems like you’ve always got these bruises? Do you not wear gloves?”

“No. Course not. How the hell am I supposed to make a massive fuckin’ explosion wearing those piece-a-shits?”

You look at him, and Bakugou’s eyes are a little more lidded than before. His voice sings sincerity though. More conviction than ever.

“Yeah. I didn’t think of that.” You laugh under your breath. “Sorry- dumb question, I guess.”

“Yep.”

“You’re not supposed to agree with me!”

“Had to. It was true.” He just shrugs, watching you intently. Then he’s sitting up a little, shifting to get more comfortable. “You fucked up the left one. Do it again.”

“I- I just finished that one!”

“Yeah? And? I’m telling you to do it again.”

“And I’m telling you it’s fine.”

“God, you fuckin’ suck at this. I’m a pro-hero, aren’t you supposed to kiss the ground I walk on?”

“No. Tried that already, remember? You still didn’t seem to like me when I was playing nice at work.” You roll your eyes, but start rewrapping his hand anyway. “You know, if all of the pro-heroes are as difficult as you, I might as well just quit now.”

“What- you haven’t fuckin’ met ‘em yet?”

“Nope. Just you.”

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, but when you glance up at him, he’s not looking at you. His eyes are staring straight past, focusing on a spot on the wall. It might just be the low lighting, but you swore you could’ve seen a smile edging at the corner of his lips.

“Not missin’ much.” He says, clearing his throat. “They’re all losers compared to me.”

You nearly balk at that- the brazen tone catching you by surprise almost as much as the words themselves did. You’re about to scold him, for his hubris and for his attitude, but when you look at him he’s smiling openly. A grin that only widens when you scrunch your eyebrows up.

“You’re too easy, leech.” Bakugou smirks. “Could say anything and you’d flip shit.”

“I would not!”

“What the hell do you call that then?” He nods in the direction of your hands, the way one of them is curled into a fist. “Look pissed to me.”

“That’s not even- and who even gave you the right- you hypocrite!” You sputter, almost growling when Bakugou’s smile just widens. “God, you know what, no- I’m not giving you the reaction. I know that’s all you’re after anyways. Jerk.”

“Been called worse. Gotta up your insult game, dumbass.”

“No, I think jerk suits you fine.” You finish with his bandage, placing his hands on his lap. You stand. “It’s a good name for someone who actively enjoys watching the world burn.”

“To fuckin’ ashes.”

You just rolls your eyes at his confident tone, trying not to screech as he suddenly tips to the side. Just a little, just a teeny bit, but more than enough for him to almost rub the dried blood on his forehead into your cushions.

“Oh my god- where you raised in a barn?” You scramble to tip him back upright, careful to avoid his burns. “You’ve got somebody’s blood! All over your face! Don’t just lay down on my couch!”

“What the hell do you want me to do?” He grumbles tiredly, rubbing a bandaged hand down his face. “Not- ‘m not gettin’ up again.”

“Why?”

“Your stupid quirk fuckin’ zapped me, leech. Your fault, you fix it if there’s such a fuckin’ problem.”

“There is a problem!”

“Okay- so you fix it.”

“You’re- seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Oh my god, you’re irritating.” You sigh, muttering a swear under you’re breath.

Then you’re heading towards your kitchen, tossing the rags you’d already used aside, and grabbing new ones. These are just as soft, because you’re way nicer than deserves, and you run them under warm water. Because, once again, you are way more considerate and kind than he deserves.

You squeeze the excess water out, striding back over to him. You stop behind the back of the couch, gently guiding his head back until he’s looking up at you. In any other situation, you’d probably just tell him to take a shower, but now you can see Bakugou wasn’t kidding- he didn’t look like he was getting up any time soon. Not if he continued to be as boneless and pliant as he seemed at that moment.

When he nods at you insistently, you roll your eyes. You think it’s rich that he’s trying to speed along a process that he’s entirely uninvolved in.

“Jesus, did you have to get so much of it all over you?” You gripe, gently pressing the rag to his cheek. “What’d you do? Stab the guy?”

“No.” He mutters darkly, almost pouting. “And it was a woman. A stupid woman who I had to use my fists against! Bitch could repel my quirk.”

“Okay- well, let’s maybe not call women bitches please-“

“What’s the big deal? I call you a bitch all the time-“

“Yes! I know! That’s the problem!” You sigh, already knowing it was a lost cause. “But still- this is a lot of blood. You really didn’t have to bash her brains in like that.”

“Didn’t. Hit her once- in the nose. Not my fault she fuckin’ sprayed everywhere.”

“No- I’m pretty sure that’s exactly the definition of your fault.”

“Yeah. Whatever. Shut up, leech.”

Then he’s squinting his eyes, falling into silence. You almost want to talk again, but once the quiet settles you find that it’s nice.

He’s a lot calmer now, tilting his head slightly to accommodate wherever you were cleaning. Bakugou mostly keeps his eyes closed, only peeking them open occasionally. It’s a rare glimpse, and he’s careful only to look when you’re not, but you don’t need your quirk to tell what he’s feeling. There’s vulnerability there- the same type of surrender you’ve seen from so many patients before.

You wonder if that would anger or soothe him- the fact that, at his core, Bakugou wasn’t all that different from the people he saved.

“I see you opening your eyes.” You speak quietly, dabbing at a spot of blood near his hairline. “Not falling asleep this time?”

“Nope.”

“Really? Because your eyes are closed right now.”

“And?”

“Kinda makes it seem like you’re falling asleep.”

“I- ‘m not. Shut up.”

You just smile a little bit, wiping away the red staining his forehead. You try your best to be gentle, but a part of you doesn’t think it really matters all that much anymore. Bakugou seemed to be entirely relaxed, going soft and languid into the plush cushioning of your couch.

“You’re lucky I’m nice.” You say, running the rag over a particularly persistent spot of blood. “And that I’m not making you do this yourself.”

“Mhm.”

“That’s all you got? Nothing else to say?”

“Nope. Tired.”

“Go to sleep then. I won’t mind- nothing’s stopping you.”

“Nah.” He breathes out, eyes fluttering beneath his lids. Bakugou goes quiet, so quiet you nearly believe he’s actually fallen asleep, but then he’s clearing his throat, grumbling slightly. “‘s nice.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Shut up.”

“Fine. Fine, whatever you want. You know, since you seem to be pretty intent at making yourself at home here anyways.”

He smiles a little at that, but it’s soft and quickly fading. You think he looks like a different man in that moment- someone much softer and smaller than he really was.

“Stop.” He mumbles. “Stop complaining.”

“Says the man who uses his oxygen to bitch more than he breathes.”

“Oi-“ He peeks an eye open lazily, red eye focusing on you intently. “Watch it, leech.”

“What’re you gonna do? Bleed all over my apartment again- oh, wait.” You joke softly, moving your rag so just the tips of it brushing over his closed eyelids. The way his eyes flutter at that makes you smile. “You already did that, didn’t you?”

“That’s fuckin’ it.”

“What is?”

“Say your prayers.” He threatens vaguely, voice hardly more than a grumble. “You’re dead when I wake up.”

“Meet me at 3 PM in the school parking lot?”

Bakugou cracks another small smile at that, but then he’s smoothing it out. Just as he always does. “Show up late ‘n I’m killing you twice.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it. You know where I live, right?”

“Damn straight, woman.”

“Not gonna add shitty in front of that?” You laugh indulgently, swiping the rag near his ear. “Usually that’s your tagline.”

“Nah. Not bein’ that shitty- right now. Still too nice though.”

“Hey, everyone is too nice compared to you- I really don’t think you’re a fair judge.”

“I am.”

“Because you say so, right?”

“Yep. Kill ya if you disagree, so watch your mouth.”

“Colorful threat. I’d almost be scared if you didn’t slur your way through the entirety of it.” You smile, dabbing away the last bit of blood and soot on his cheek. “All done now- so go to sleep. Stop fighting it.”

Bakugou nods. He’s still, much more still than you’ve ever seen him, but there’s still fight in him. He seems determined not to let sleep catch up with him, rubbing loosely at his eyes with a fist; blinking away the bleariness as he regards you once more.

“Thanks.” Is all he mumbles, before closing his eyes, falling back entirely boneless once more.

You’re shocked- rooted where you stand just few inches above him.

“Did- did you just-“

“Say anythin’ and it won’t happen again.”

His tone is a little harsh, but the sleepy grin stretched across his face betrays him. Helps you see through the name calling for what it really is: childish mischief.

You think that’s rather fitting. The Bakugou you’d come to know was rather juvenile, after all.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I’m a bloodsucking parasite. You gotta come up with new material, man.” You flick his forehead lightly. He has almost no reaction, doesn’t even flinch when you make contact. “Alright, now go to sleep. Because, and I mean this with full offense, Bakugou- you look like shit.”

You wonder if you’re toeing the line, playing with dangerous fire, but Bakugou just grins again. A tired, lazy, unbidden thing, that licks rolling warmth at the heels of his next words.

“Only look like shit because I keep associatin’ with you. Rollin’ in it at this point.”

“That’s- Hey!” You sputter, indignant as he peeks an eye open. “Don’t be rude!”

“Kiddin’, leech.”

“You better be.”

“Mhm. Now go away. I’m fuckin’ tired.”

When he tips sideways again, you let him. Bakugou’s still in the bottom half of his hero costume, sure, but he’s not disturbing the bandages on his ribs. There’s no more blood either, so you count it as a win. It takes all over seconds before he’s out, and you wonder just how long he’d been fighting it. Why he’d even do such a thing in the first place.

There’s still something biting at you though- a bit of that cold he’d left you with earlier. Something sympathetic in you aches, and your fingers itch in your gloves. Almost without thinking, you grab the blanket for him. Bakugou hardly reacts when you tuck the cloth around his shoulders, just barely flutters his eyes and snuffles a bit. He pulls his limb in a bit, nestling into the couch and mumbling something you can’t hear.

A part of you knows it pointless, but still, you hope whatever he’s dreaming about is warm.

 --/--

sorry about the wait y’all!! had exams n felt a bit burnt out :// 

all good now tho!! refreshed n excited haha,, i hope u all enjoyed!!

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[hydroponicjj]

no place like home

pairing: peter parker x reader

summary: you get kicked out of your house and have nowhere to go. you want to tough it out on your own but your boyfriend won’t let you.

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of abuse, alcohol, swearing

a/n: i’m back!!! wrote this instead of studying for my spanish midterm oops. hope that you all enjoy and make sure you send requests!

                    「 ₊˚.༄ 」

You were good at hiding your emotions.

This wasn’t something that you were appreciative of, you were ashamed. You wish that you could express how you genuinely feel without being terrified that someone would take advantage of your vulnerability.

But that’s just how life works when you grow up in a toxic household, with a mother that isn’t the friendliest.

“Y/N?” Peter spoke, causing you to return from your trance.

“If you aren’t going to take this seriously then you can just leave.” He puffed, flipping back and forth between pages, searching for an answer.

“I-I’m sorry.” You mumbled.

The two of you were currently studying for your midterms in Peter’s room. He was sitting at his desk, books sprawled everywhere while you sat on the carpeted floor, back pressed up against the wall.

“I can’t find the answer to question 32, did you?” He asked.

“No, I didn’t. I’m sorry.” You replied, weakly.

Peter huffed as he flipped the pages aggressively.

“What is it?”

“It’s just-” He hesitated, “I don’t understand why you come over here every day and just sit there and do nothing.”

You felt a pinch in your heart as he let out his frustrations, “I’m sorry.”

“And stop apologizing!” Peter struck his fist down on his desk, causing you to recoil.

He noticed how you inched away from him, “I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re right,” You took a deep breath, “I’ve been in my head a lot lately and I haven’t been the girlfriend that you need right now.”

“Not to mention I’ve been a terrible study buddy.” You laughed, Peter smirked.

“That doesn’t excuse the fact that I scared you.” He was disappointed in himself. For a split second, he forgot about how sensitive you are.

“How about we take a little break? We can go out and get something to eat and maybe watch an episode of The Office?” You suggested as you stood up.

“I’m in work mode right now,” Peter watched your face for any signs of disappointment.

You nodded, glancing at the clock, noticing the time, “I should get moving before my parents notice that I’ve been gone this long.”

You bent down and began to place all the science and math textbooks into your bookbag.

“You should spend the night. May won’t mind, she loves having you over.”

“No, it’s fine.” You reassured but, Peter didn’t look satisfied.

“Hey, hey,” Grabbing his arms, you wrapped them around your waist, placing your head on his shoulder, “It’s okay, I promise.”

You stood in each other’s embrace for a few moments, finding harmony in each other’s presence.

Peter’s mind is always going 100 miles per hour, especially right now with the stress of midterms and having to make time to patrol the city. The both of you were dealing with stress and being able to have a few seconds of tranquility made all the difference.

“I’ve gotta go.” He released you from his clutch.

“Text me when you get home?”

“Of course.”

“I love you.” He beamed.

“I love you.”

--

Sneaking into your house is way harder than sneaking out. Having to avoid not only your parents but your loud dog that gets super excited when she sees you.

Throwing your bag on your bed, you climbed through your window, careful not to slip on any of the toys scattered on the floor.

Everything had been calculated so that your mother and father would eat dinner while your dog begged at their feet, so you come out of your room and claim that you had been taking a nap.

But not everything goes according to plan. Your parents never let the dog out of your room so, she was lying in your bed instead of on her own. She felt your bag hit the bed and shot up, beginning to bark.

“No, no, no!”

It was pointless trying to get her to stop because you could hear the harsh footsteps on the way to your room.

Your mom stood in the doorway, arms crossed as she leaned against the frame. The tension increased by a tenfold. Your confident stature depleted with every second that passed.

“You know, if I’m going to pay for this room, I expect it’s going to be used, right?”

“Yes,” You’d learned that she’ll make it easier if you agree and don’t antagonize her.

“So, when you’re not in here, it tells me you aren’t using it.” She spoke, malice laced within her voice, “Do you want to live here?”

“Yes.” You responded.

Your mother nodded her head, “If you sneak out again, I’ll see that you don’t have a room to come home to.” She sent you a passive-aggressive smile and slammed your door.

You let out a sigh of relief, even though she just threatened to kick you out if you snuck out to see Peter again. The exchange had gone better than most nights, presumably because it was too early for her to drink.

Flopping on your bed next to your dog, you let her give you a couple of kisses before pulling your phone out of your back pocket and sending Peter a message.

You: Hey! I’ve made it home.

Peter: Great. Still studying :(

You: Keep pushing!! I’ll make sure that I help next time

Peter: Any problems?

You: Nope :)

Peter: Good.

Peter: Wanna retry this study date tomorrow at 6:30?

You: Yep, see you then <3

“Shit.” You huffed.

--

You were asking to get thrown out. Here it was, 6:00 pm, and you were crawling out of your window as if your mother didn’t threaten you with eviction less than 24 hours ago.

As you strolled toward the Parker’s apartment, you thought of how your foolproof plan could go wrong. Would your dog bark again, or would your mom be waiting in your room as soon as you arrived?

“Hey,” Turning your head, you saw none other than Peter Parker send you his alluring smile.

“W-What are you doing out here?” You questioned, eyebrows contorted in confusion.

Pulling his hands from behind his back, he displayed 3 bags of food, “I was picking up our dinner for tonight.”

“Dinner?”

“I thought we could scrap the whole studying idea and have dinner with May.” He revealed.

You tried your best to control your facial expressions and body language, not wanting to give Peter any signal that this would raise a problem.

“Sounds good.” You nodded.

“I’m so glad that we’re able to do this before I patrol. It puts me in a good mood before I go-”

“Kick some ass?” You interjected.

“Somethin�� like that.”

The rest of the walk to Peter’s apartment was filled with stories of the peculiar things that he would see while patrolling the city at night. Weird things that people tried to steal and the extravagant costumes people wore.

“A nightgown?” You asked as you entered his apartment.

“A nightgown,” Peter confirmed as he took your jacket, hanging it on the rack mere feet away from the entrance.

“Hey, Y/N!” May greeted, waving at you from the kitchen.

“Hey, May! So nice to see you again.” She emerged from the kitchen and gave you a small hug before turning her attention towards her nephew.

He handed her a receipt, and the placed the bags on the dining table, “Let’s eat.”

“So, Y/N, how’s school going? Someone has been studying like crazy.”

“School is going well. I think people are stressed with midterms, but I can’t wait until things get back to normal.” You explained, putting food onto your plate.

The conversation flowed nicely. It was easy to talk to Peter’s aunt because she was so understanding and non-judgmental, she had become more of a mother towards you than your actual parent.

“I guess it’s true that time passes faster when you’re having fun,” Peter spoke.

You looked at the clock, it was almost 9:45. It was at least a 30-minute walk back to your house

“Oh my. I’m sorry to rush out like this but, I have to get home before-” You paused, not wanting to say anything that would worry Peter or May, “This was fun we’ve gotta do this again.”

“Soon.” May smiled, watching as you grabbed your coat, frantically.

“I love you, Peter. I’ll text you when I get home.” With that, you exited the Parker’s apartment and rushed out of the building.

There was no way that your absence went unnoticed by your mother, now that she’s on high alert of you sneaking out. You had completely forgotten about checking the time. There was something about the Parker’s that made your problems seem so minuscule to the point where you didn’t even think about them.

With every step you took, the pit in your stomach increased in size. Whatever destiny you had waiting for you at home, you didn’t want it. You wished that you could turn around and go back to Peter’s apartment and exchange funny stories with him and his aunt.

But you can’t outrun fate.

When you reached your window, you were faced with 3 black trash bags and a note, “I warned you.”

“Fuck,” You sobbed, “She fucking kicked me out.”

You always knew that your relationship with your mother wasn’t the best but, you loved her and you assumed that she loved you too. You didn’t even want to imagine what feelings she harbored towards you if she could throw you out with ease.

You opened the bags and saw your clothes, materials for school, and a few miscellaneous things. There was no way that you could carry all of this stuff, it was way too heavy and you didn’t own a car.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” You heard someone say from the roof.

The first thing you noticed was the colors red and black and knew exactly who it was, “What are you doing here?”

“Y-You rushed out of my house like we had a disease or something, I knew something was wrong.” He explained.

You couldn’t see under his mask but it didn’t take a genius to know that he was confused, “What’s all this?”

“Pete, I think I’m in trouble.” You croaked, your eyes were red and blurry from crying.

He came down from the roof and instantly embraced you in a hug. You let a sob escape your throat as he held you, “Why didn’t you just call me? We could’ve figured something out.”

You sighed, “I’m not your responsibility. Plus, you have all of this stress on you and-”

“Did you think that I’d turn you away or something?” He questioned, taking off the mask covering his face so that he could look you in the eyes.

“Look at me,” Peter gently took your face in his hands, “I know that you grew up thinking that you are a burden but you’re not.”

“Do you remember when I was distant from everyone for months after Uncle Ben?”

You nodded.

“You were the person that restored me to normal. No one asked you to but you did, remember that?”

“Yeah,” You sighed, resting your face in his palm.

“We’ll figure this out together.” Peter reassured, caressing the back of your head as he pulled you into yet another hug.

“Together?”

“Together.”

[ktheist]

saving grace | 1

muses. duke!yoongi x lady!reader

universe. arranged marriage / minor traces of magic in history

concept. driven into a corner with the new king, seokjin, offering to marry you off to a prince in a foreign land and a persistent mother who would seize the chance of a lucrative marriage for her daughter, you’re forced with the only other option to secure your freedom ‒ enter into a beneficial agreement with the man who reaped the seeds of war, the duke of cralon, yoongi min.

words. 6.1k

warnings. mentions of war, it’s cliche and cheesy all in one package

index. 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / finale

x

“that’s not a reward,” you heatedly claim, somewhere in your periphery, the royal assistant flinches from your tone, “that’s banishment! you wish to banish me to another country where i’ll be of no threat to you because of the information i hold!”

“l-lady ___, please lower your voice.” jungkook, seokjin’s new advisor, tries to placate only to stagger back from a glare you shot.

the music and chatters is loud enough to drown a scream - and you haven’t reached that point of wanting to yell your heart out at this man. the area you are in - on the second floor on the veranda overseeing the ocean of people dancing in the hall - is secluded enough to give the king his privacy.

“now, why would i do that to my most trusted confidant?” the smile on seokjin’s face could not have been more dubious. though he may wear the crown and sit upon the throne, his crude nature is what he truly is.

it’s not a secret that seokjin is the son of a maid who rose to the top but it couldn’t have been possible without the help of the count’s daughter. he needed information but his status as a prince born from a mere maid, hadn’t allow him to attend the social functions nor received any acknowledgement from the aristocrats. it was you who offered to be his eyes and ears in exchange for moving into the royal palace once he becomes king after the siege.

“as i recall, you wished to live in a palace like a princess,” his voice is unusually high pitched, laced with mockery of what you can only assume is an attempt to mimic yours, “and it just so happens that the prince of aflar is looking for a bride - who knows, despite being the 12th prince, perhaps he’ll be able to rise as the king. that way, you’ll become queen.”

“i don’t wish to become queen! i wish to live a free life without my parents dictating who i should marry just because a lady cannot inherit the family title.” this time, the heel of your foot hurts from the stomp but the anger rushing through your veins allow forbids you from showing it.

“___,” he’s used to calling you by your name - of course, it’s been five years since you’ve known each other. five years after finding out the second prince’s true nature and regretting choosing his side every waking day of your life, “you wish to live in the palace but refuse to take lessons to prepare you as my queen - what would people think of the respectable lady who doesn’t have any prior relations to the second prince-turned-king suddenly living with him under the same roof?”

“there are thousands of servants living in the palace.” you plainly point out - he must’ve expected this if he doesn’t even bat an eye at your words.

“servants don’t go prancing around the palace looking for the king as they please.”

“th-that’s because you’ve been avoiding me under the guise of the workload left by the previous king,” the stutter is what brings about the sly smirk on his lips.

“my, then your reputation is already ruined,” he feigns a disheartened sigh, almost as though he truly cares, “it’s not like the servants are loyal to me so they’ll talk - they might even be talking now - if news gets out that we’ve been acting like lovers, your chances of marrying well has dwindled to zero. you ought to quickly find a marriage prospect to mend the mess you made.”

something in the way he pans out his words causes your shoulder line to jolt backwards - as though physically slapped by the truth of his narration. though not proven yet, and though the thought of having a man to call your husband would fix everything makes you sick - you can’t deny the simple-minded way of thinking of these aristocrats.

the fact of the matter is, it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. whether you’re seokjin’s - as he had time and time indicated - lover. what matters is the double-edged sword you’ve forged for yourself.

one wrong move, and they’d believe seokjin if he’d called you his lover and then claimed you a traitor who tried assassinating him in his sleep.

but as of now, despite becoming the king, he’s still struggling with the lack of support from the aristocrats. and having managed to wedge your way into the top circle is possibly the only reason you’re still able to do whatever you want.

all of a sudden, a disarming smile curls on your lips - seokjin must’ve noticed if he’s trying to control the curiosity that flashes in his eyes before he sports a bored expression.

“very well, i thank you for giving your blessing for me to pick out any marriage prospect i want.” the smile stretches gleefully over your features as the man’s eyes widen at your next words.

“what are you-”

“i wish to wed the duke of cralon and head knight of the kingdom, yoongi min.”

x

“the min family is rumored to be the wealthiest family in the kingdom - perhaps far surpassing the previous king. one word from the duke and these filthy aristocrats will grovel at his feet,” the voice you use trickles with sweet honey while seokjin’s hands tightly grip the seat, “but for some reason he’s staying quiet after coming back from the war and finding out the king he serves has had his head cut off.”

“what are you trying to say, lady ___?”

it’s the honorific that tells you he’s speaking as the king and everything that allows him to sit on the throne. his features, when he’s glowering, is heartbreakingly beautiful.

that’s how it feels to be driven into a corner, seokjin.

“i never told you but the duke fancies me. every year, he sends me birthday gifts,” technically he isn’t the only one - it’s just a formality to maintain an amicable relationship between the houses of nobles but having been out of touch with the ways of the nobility, you’re almost sure seokjin isn’t aware of said ways, “but my parents wouldn’t allow us to meet because of his infamous reputation and i never had any interest in marriage,” the pleasant smile on your lips is a contrast to the man’s contorting features - he must understand where you both stand now, “but if i accept his proposal, the duke won’t stand and watch as the new king sends away his fiance, will he?”

when the king glares up at you but doesn’t seem to have anything to say, you thought that’s the end of it. thought you can curtsy and call it a night whilst devising plans on how to get the duke’s attention and make him fall for you within the limited span of time you have to show seokjin how smitten the knight is for you.

...until the man himself steps out of the shadow without even a scrape of his boot against the ground. the duke is a man of many things but graceful had been far beyond your imagination. and yet here he is, in his knightly attire in black and hints of yellow lines on the sleeves and shoulders - a glaring contrast to his porcelain white skin and silvery grey hair yet perhaps what contributes to highlighting his crimson eyes. the color that’s rumored to be the curse of the goddess for the min family’s generational brute and violence that lead them to winning wars and coming back unscathed.

“your ma-” it all happens too fast.

he’s about to greet seokjin - whether it is with weighty contempt or newfound alliance, you’re not sure - with a hand on his chest and an uncaring glance your way. then you’re running towards him and before you know it, your arms are around his neck and your voice is pitched higher than you would like, “your grace, i’m glad you came back safely!”

you never thought someone could actually turn into stone in a split second but you don’t think the man in your arms is breathing at the moment. and you know exactly who’s fault that is - your own.

“please, play along,” in contrast to the high pitched tone from earlier, you curse yourself for sounding meek and timid - if your heart isn’t beating like a galloping horse and your body isn’t heating up like a baker’s oven, perhaps, you would have had better control of the situation, “my life depends on it and if we walk out of here alive, i’ll do anything you wish, duke.”

...was what you said but it all seems too far blown out of proportion, you might as well forego all your worldly desires and surrender yourself to the church and become a woman of god.

“perhaps, marrying the foreign prince would have been a better option after all.” you lament out loud, pressing the sleeve of your nightgown to your eyes but instead of being engulfed in darkness, you see a vivid replay of seokjin’s knitted brows and troubled expression. and if you’d just focus, you would still feel yoongi’s muscles underneath your fingers as you held onto his arm after flinging yourself at him whilst you make your way back to where you were standing - in front of the king.

pleasantries were exchanged while a dark cloud loomed over the three of you before yoongi excused himself and since you were clinging onto his arm, you ended up leaving as well. before you’d managed to conjure up a plausible explanation for your behavior towards a person you’ve never met. but right in that moment, leslie, your maid had called for you to inform you of the carriage waiting outside.

relief threatened to paint your features but you’d hid it with a dip before peeking at the crimson eyes that’d stared right into your soul. ‘letter’ you’d mouthed before leaving joining leslie in search for the carriage.

it’s been three days since then and there is not a single spot on the table perched in front of your window that isn’t covered with the thin bundles of papers leslie has presented you with when you ordered her to find out more about duke min. he isn’t particularly a social butterfly but his reclusive nature had extended to a point where only the butler is the only one who ever spoke to him. besides that, ever since he’d came back from war, he’d been swarmed with reports and the recent issue of missing goods from the iyesgarth port owned by the ducal house. none of which are useful for you to attract the attention of the duke for an exchange of protection.

“what was that, my lady?” at the familiar fluttery voice, your whole body shoots up.

“leslie!” the woman’s name tumbles out of your lips in surprise, “when did you get in?”

you didn’t even hear her enter-

“a few minutes ago while you were still snoring off,” she answers simply as she walks over, inspecting the teal dress she must have gotten from your closet while murmuring to herself about the ‘handiwork is terrible. we shouldn’t order dresses from vivian’s boutique anymore.’

it didn’t seem like she heard anything but if she did, leslie has always had a knack for going about her day as though she knew nothing. you wonder how much information she holds just from that uncaring personality of hers that allows people to feel at ease with knowing she wouldn’t tattle.

but this isn’t something you could let go, “leslie, how much did you-” but it’s her rambling that almost has you biting down on your tongue as you clamp your mouth shut.

“...won’t do. you need to dress pretty for the duke, my lady.”

almost as though the traces of sleep has flown out of the window, you’re crawling over the bed and grasping onto the maid’s shoulders for dear life, “d-did you say duke?”

an unsuspecting smile graces your lips once the realization that your unusual behavior, is caused by the news of the duke, “yes, he’s on his way here as we speak!”

it takes a moment for you to register her words. another for you to blink back at her as though waiting for her ever smiling face to fade into the dark before you finally wake up, wishing fullheartedly that this is all just a bad dream.

“my lady?” leslie cocks her head to the side, as though searching for your conscience that’d retreated so far back into your existence, she realizes she’s staring back at nothing but a shell.

“why...” the lowest murmur leaves your lips like a calm before a storm before a hurricane rages and whirls out of your entire being, “why is the duke coming here?”

x

“___! what did you do to summon the rage of the duke to our home!” your father, dressed unusually impeccably, stopped in the middle of ordering the butler and servants for when the duke arrives.

“m-me?” yes, you knew you had sounded utterly audacious for someone who boasted - and even blackmailed the king - about the duke’s affection for you, “i didn’t do anything!”

it was in that moment that the clamor of a carriage had echoed from outside. the sound of the horses neighing comes a second later. but nobody heard the footsteps of duke min as he tread towards the open doors of the mansion.

he wasn’t named grim reaper for nothing.

“my apologies for coming on such short notice,” at least he's rational enough to admit his fault.

you catch the sight of the tip of his fringes falling over his face as he bows, before you curtsy, head lowered and eyes fixed to the ground.

your mother had scolded you an earful about peeking while curtsying, “___! have some refinement! a lady does not peek like an uncivilized cavewoman!”

if you’d lived in a cave, you wouldn’t have to be constricted to such formalities in the first place.

“please, don’t apologize,” your father presses smoothly, unlike his frazzled self from just a minute ago - it must have taken him years to hone such composure as to not tremble under the duke’s crimson eyes, “we at the ___ manor, are honored to have you as our guest, your grace. though we are quite puzzled by your grace’s reason for coming here.”

“reason.” the duke echoes, it seems the only thing delicate about him is his features but you’d be lying if you said you don’t find the low gruff of his voice thunderous to your heart.

a short silence lapses as though he’s sifting through his memories and finally letting his gaze travel to you - though his tone doesn’t seem to harbor any murderous intention, those crimson eyes that seek yours render your body cold. you clasp your hands together out of needing something to hold onto as you fix him one of your schooled, noble smile.

“i wish to speak to the eldest daughter of this house,” he says simply, “about our engagement.”

that same smile on your face falters into a pressed line.

x

“my, my,” your mother laughs, royal purple fan that’s been fluttering over his face now being lowered to her lap, “what troublesome rumor has spread about our beloved ___.”

the slightest twitch on her pristine smile tells you otherwise. but you can’t challenge her genuinity - not in front of the yoongi, at least.

and to be truthful, the more pressing matter - one that plagues your very talk as of now - is the fact that the conversation pertaining your supposed blessed marriage had only been attended by seokjin, jungkook and you - there were guards but you doubt any of them were interested in gossips about a count’s daughter’s affairs.

...could seokjin be the one to have spread the rumor?

before you can even come to a plausible conclusion as to why the king would do such a thing, you’re brought out of your train of thoughts by the woman covering your hands that are on your lap, grasping onto them tightly - at first glance, it would appear she’s genuinely concerned for you, “how do you plan to take responsibility over daughter’s wounded reputation, your grace?”

it’s commendable how your mother is still able to let her lips stretch over her face as though the man’s red eyes aren’t piercing through her skull like a spear. you’ve always known she was a scary woman - she wished to pass on her legacy onto you and perhaps that was why you would always end up huffing and trudging back to your room every time you tried to tell her you didn’t want to follow such path.

her ways were effective but you weren’t looking to gain something out of another’s suffering.

“mother!” your voice bounces over the walls, “his grace’s reputation is also tarnished by the rumor, how could you ask him to take responsibility as if it was his fault?”

the woman stares down at you with her signature glare but after years of being on the receiving end of it, you’d grown a spine or two, “silly child, who’s going to marry you now that the rumor of your engagement with the grim reaper has spread far and wide?”

“mother!” it almost comes out a chide at the word she uses to describe the man sitting right across from you.

“d-dear wife,” your father is sweating bullets from his seat as he bravely speaks up, “why don’t we let the duke and ___ discuss this matter privately? it is, after all, their reputations that are on the line.”

“theirs?” your mother’s hiss causes your father’s shoulder line to shrink back.

yoongi’s reputation may have been borne by only him but for a lady, everything you do reflects on your family name. that, you understand and for once, your mother’s outburst is well-founded.

the roots of rage almost tangles around your ankles as well - but the uncertainty of the source of rumor lingers on your mind.

it is the moment when the door shuts behind the butler after your parents which required a lot of pleading from your father, do you allow yourself to feel the heat of yoongi’s eyes on you - if looks could kill you’d be dead for simply and foolishly meeting his gaze.

“your grace, i apologize on my mother’s behalf... my mother, she’s only worried about my future like any mother would,” the head that’s held up high, the shoulders that line straight and the schooled smile on your lips - does well to conceal the inner turmoil inside you. but when all you receive is a steel gaze and a pin-drop silence, you’re forced to change the topic, “i was in the middle of writing you a letter.”

in other words, you mean to say you’re too hasty, duke.

unlike you, the man has his legs crossed languidly, his sword - said to be forged by the spine of the devil himself - is leaned next to his foot, almost as though ready for him to pull it out of its sheath if you so much as move, “i thought you would chip a nail writing me one so i decided to spare you the pain and pay you a visit, my lady.”

the underlying mockery in his words does not go past you yet it takes a moment for it to register - he looked like a straightforward man based on the menial conversation he shared with seokjin and you as a witness.

but it’s true what they say about judging books by their cover.

“that’s very considerate of you, your grace,” the smile you force on goes against the normal order of nature but the man doesn’t seem fazed. his crimson eyes fixes themselves on yours as though trying to take a peek into your soul and find out your darkest secret. if there’d been any trace of humor, it’s all vanished into thin air now.

“your grace, i told you my life was on the line that night. and you helped me regardless of who i was - i’m thankful for you. there’s no way i’d start a rumor of us being engaged and trouble you further,” you begin, capturing yoongi’s gaze with yours - where you get such courage for someone who’s about to spew half-truths, you don’t know, “but that night - it was because seok- his majesty was about to marry me off to the 12th prince of aflar because i’d offended him with my words.”

“so he does whatever he wants just like his father,” his eyes glazes over you, as though picturing the new king at the back of his head as you speak. the matter of what he came for no longer as pressing as he made it out to be - dare you say, it was just an excuse to for him to come barging in.

“no!” the hurried denial warrants a narrow of eyes from the duke - as though wondering why the lady whose pleas were ignored, is defending the very person who’d ignored them. you only wanted a way out - not breathe the flames of an uproar from the nobles who chooses to remain neutral, “what i mean is, i’m sure his majesty will understand if you let me stand by you for a short while - i promise i won’t get in your grace’s way.” the last part is added as an afterthought when his eye twitches just the slightest bit as though displeased by the thought of some lady sticking to his side like glue.

the silence that lapses between you is tangible as your body screams to be released from the frozen state you’re in - you couldn’t move a finger even if you’d wanted to, at least not until yoongi seems to finish thinking.

“what exactly did you say to the king to have him want to send you away for good?” comes the million gold question.

this is it. you know he’d catch on but you’re not so prepared to give an answer. you’re not sure if the hesitance shows in your face but you doubt your mastery for hiding your emotions is as spectacular as his.

and so, with a tilted chin, you set a resolute gaze upon the duke, “the missing shipments from the port iyesgarth,” you state, noticing the curious raise of brow, “how are armwells doing these days?”

“impossible,” the frown that etches itself on his face is another kind of heartbreaking beauty. leaning back against the chair again and consequently allowing you to let out the breath you never knew you were holding, he continues, “the armwells own the warehouses. why would they steal shipments from merchants who pay them plenty just to leave goods in their warehouses?”

“the answer you’ve been looking for is right there,” the smile that blooms on your face is a pleasant one and the knit of yoongi’s eyebrows is all heartbreakingly adorable. “their spendthrift son has been gambling away the money and however much they make over the warehouse fee is starting to not be enough.”

there’s a light in his eyes that shines with doubt and with that, births the shadow of, dare you say, plausible confidence in what you’re saying.

“the goods from the shipment are being sold in the black market,” those crimson eyes follows your every movement as rise from your seat, hand clasped together in front of you - a habit you’d developed to appear small and unsuspecting, “ask around for a franny.”

x

franny is baron armwell’s alias. he couldn’t go around selling stolen goods under his name because the authorities - namely, the duke as part of his line of work after coming back from war - would catch on. it had just so happened that isabelle armwell, a lady you occasionally talk to at gatherings was sporting a long face at the debutante ball. she was spilling every single family secret after a trip to the washroom and a consoling hug.

with a heavy heart, you wave at the girl with the brightest blue eyes and blonde locks that flows past her bosom in waves. she’s wearing a light blue dress with minute diamonds pooling around the hem and dispersing up her waist. it’s been exactly five days after the duke min’s visit and over one week of celebrating the knights’ victory.

“___, i didn’t think you’d be here!” her beaming smile reminds you of the smudged makeup and tear stained eyes you bore witness just a month ago.

“why would you think that?” you blink despite having an inkling of where this conversation is going-

“well, since the rumors of you and duke min’s engagement...” she fiddles with her fingers from what you can only assume to be jitters. of course, a lady her age who’s just debuted into society would be curious of how you tamed the beast laying dormant.

to be frank, you did not.

“-remains a baseless rumor.” you speak rather loudly, hands on your hips as you steal a glance at the throne where seokjin sits, his eyes already on you, “i’m not sure who started it but duke min and i are-”

“lady ___,” a familiar guttural voice greets you from behind you. isabelle’s shock-stricken gaze that’s fixed at something - or rather, someone - past your shoulders is enough to confirm who the bearer of your doom is.

and true enough, standing before you, in the min family’s signature black suit and maroon undershirt, is none other than the devil himself. as opposed to last time, there’s a suave smile on his cherry pink lips - perhaps, nothing more than a show - and his silver hair is swept back, revealing his round visage and making his otherwise soft feature appear sharp and clean.

“your grace,” you dip down, dress lifted midair just below your hips before coming up and noticing the man also in the middle of standing back straight after bowing, “for a moment there, i thought it wasn’t you, but a shapeshifter who looked like you and attended this ball.”

if there’s anything you know - and you know plenty - about the duke of cralon, is that he rarely shows his face at balls and parties. even the ones held by the previous king.

the first time you met him was purely coincidental but not unprecedented. granted, the ball was held to celebrate the victory of the winter knights in the war. if there was any celebration duke min would attend, then it was that one. and he did attend.

but for him to appear at a regular ball held by the new king...

“alas, it is i and not some monstrous shapeshifter - i was hoping you’d spare me a dance, lady ___.” a gloved hand extends your way, hovering in the air as you scrutinize the man’s uncharacteristically smiling face - as though he’d found humor in your underlying tone.

his motives are unclear but the fact that you have his attention must mean your lead has lead to a fruitful discovery.

“why, this will pour oil to the flames,” you murmur under your breath - low enough for only him to hear and yet slip your own hand in his.

“so you’re friends with lady armwell,” the mellow tune of the cello pours into the room as a new song begins.

the feeling of the hand on your waist is unsettlingly gentle and careful - almost as though he’s fearful that your bones may break if he held on tighter.

“she only tearfully told me about the her brother’s unmanageable gambling habits, the information i gave you was out of my own findings - i can find out a plenty of many things for your grace if you choose to help me shake his majesty’s eyes off me,” you search for those crimson eyes as he twirls you around once, “i trust it’s been helpful to your grace, but if you are still unconvinced of my expertise-”

the bells of chuckles that drums in your ears are the last thing you expect to hear - quite frankly, the chances of gaining a threat for whatever reason is much higher than bearing witness to the duke’s laughter.

“there’s no need,” this time, his hair doesn’t brush over his eyebrows when he shakes his head, “you’ll make a fine fiance, ___.”

the lack of honorific doesn’t entirely go past you but that isn’t a material matter at the moment.

did he just said... fiance?

“your grace, unless my ears are-”

“yoongi.”

“p-pardon?” the warmth on your hip and hand seeps into you as he directs your body to move with the melody of the instruments, reminding you that there are hundred pairs of eyes on you and if the lady were to stop dancing all of a sudden, then there is no doubt of a new kind of rumor surfacing.

but judging from the way he dips his head and his hot breath fanning the shell of your ear, you can almost hear the squeals and gossip that will fill tomorrow’s tea party, “since we’re engaged, shouldn’t we at least call each other by our names?”

words die in your throat, as does the music. you barely notice the hands that held you falling away as you watch the man take a step backwards and lower his head - so much for formalities after deciding to forego it just five seconds ago.

“i’ll send a letter tomorrow notifying my visit in three day’s time.” with that, you’re left staring like a fool at the black and red insignia engraved on the back of his jacket.

it is a moment later that isabelle and the other ladies begin to crowd you, that you finally come to your senses.

“it it true? you’re engaged to the duke of cralon?” lady irene’s beaming smile is far too close for your liking.

“calm down, lady irene. don’t make a-”

before lady krystal manages to finish her sentence, you already find yourself slipping past bodies and out of the ball room. your destination is unclear but you saw yoongi take a left and that could only mean that he’s heading towards the garden instead of the double doors of the exit.

lights line the tall walls surrounding the palace but you wouldn’t have spot the grey locks that appear almost white if not for the moonlight. the crimson dragons on either side of the shield symbolizes the min family’s pledge to protect the crown. the fact that he’s wearing this and not the official knight outwear means he’s not here as the head knight but as a-

“your grace,” you send a prayer to the goddess for the sternness in your tone but it easily dwindles down and hits the ground as you’re met with the echoing footsteps of the duke who doesn’t seem to acknowledge your presence.

your temple throbs as the image of the duke’s handsome features come unnervingly close to you whilst he whispers-

“yoongi.” you almost scream.

it is settled knowledge that the duke of cralon possesses inhumane abilities that helped him and his predecessors win wars for the kingdom, cearis. if his unfailing reputation isn’t enough, then you’ve already seen how you would be completely helpless in his undetectable presence that night when you failed to notice him until he presents himself to seokjin and consequently you.

but in your haste to right the wrong, you’ve forgotten the possibility of abruptly calling his name ending up with your face buried in his chest when he whirls around to face you.

with cheeks that feels like they’re surrounded by a thousand suns, you quickly clear your throat after taking one step back. his raised eyebrow, however, tells you he thinks nothing of the minor mishap just now.

still, you meet yoongi’s gaze with a pair of knitted brows and a distraught tug in the corners of your lips, “i believe there’s been a misunderstanding, your grace,” the briefest lift of eyebrows as though he is painfully aware of the way you address him, doesn’t go unnoticed by you though you wish it would, “when i asked if i could stand by your side, i did not mean as your fiance - it makes me think you don’t trust me enough to believe that it wasn’t me who spread the rumor.”

“i do believe you,” he says simply, “but wouldn’t you say the rumor plays in your favor, ___?” there he goes again, addressing you informally, “since everyone saw us dancing together, they’ll feed into the rumor. it doesn’t matter if the king doesn’t buy into it. as of now, his position is vulnerable and if he were to break two lovers who are mad for each other apart and marry the other off in the name of political gain, the aristocrats won’t sit still.”

“so just now...” you trail off, the image of isabelle and the other nobles’ fallen jaws flashing at the back of your mind, “it was a return of favor because i helped solve the mystery of the missing shipments?”

“you don’t seem pleased,” his eyebrows begin to knit together.

“how can i be when i was not consulted of such plans prior to this?” the silence that lapses between you is no different than back in the parlor in your mansion, except yoongi seems to consider your request more seriously this time judging from the hard lines set upon his otherwise smooth forehead.

“then, what would you have suggested, ___?” the blinking red doesn’t seem too menacing now that he’s staring at you with genuine concern.

sighing, you curse yourself for admitting the truth in his words, “your grace is correct that the rumor gives us an advantage. however, next time we are to make a public appearance, i’d like to have a say on how it’s to be executed.”

his gaze lingers on you for the longest time - you’re not sure whether he’s debating on foregoing your investigative expertise or whether he should reveal to seokjin that this is all a faux. but what he does next could never have crossed your mind in the list of things he duke yoongi min could be thinking.

“i understand,” the figure in front of you dips to a bow, a gloved black hand levitating midair as a shadow casts itself over his gentle features and contrasting glowing eyes, “my apologies for acting without taking your feelings into consideration just now, lady ___.”

the title returns in his mouth yet your chest caves in displeasure. you’re not too fond of him calling you just by name but you’re not any glad that he’s back to using that honorific.

“v-very well, you’re forgiven,” you force out after realizing you’ve made him wait long enough, cheeks warm as you place your hand in his, eyes fixed on his lips that presses against your knuckles - they really are as soft as they look.

a halo encases his body when he stands straight. and if it weren’t for his abrupt remark, you would have pondered on the faintest hint of smile on his features, “now then, may i ask another favor from you, ___?”

another one? right after you assisted him in finding out the culprit?

“your grace may, though please bear in mind tonight doesn’t count as you returning the favor so you’ll be owing me two public appearances.” you shrug as casually as possible.

“that’s fair,” he nods a little too nonchalantly before getting to the point - and perhaps a tendril of regret wraps around your heart for agreeing without hearing his request first when he utters his next words-

“i wish us to call each other by our names - it’s suffocating to be so polite.” he sighs, hand ruffling his silvery tresses like a child tired of the etiquette lessons forced on him and not at all like the man that had you on the edge of your seat back in your mansion.

“th-that’s-” the words teeter on your tongue but refuse to leave your mouth as you fumble for a reason to object but the longer you stare into those indecipherable eyes, the emptier your mind gets and the harder your heart races.

“r-reasonable,” you stammer out, the flash of anticipation across the duke’s face leaving you no choice but to add, “yoongi.”

x

note. hello!! i’ve been working on this for a month or so (whew) bc i got super into historical au’s and just wanna write something without prince and princesses as the main leads and this happened!! hope you guys enjoyed it and are looking forward for more. drop your @ below if you want to be included the taglist!

[coza-main]

The Turning Point

Words: 2,578

Warnings: Slight angst, other than that none

Summary: The princess and Link get lost in a white-out blizzard, only to find shelter in a cave. Can Link use this time to prove that he is not her enemy, or will he only push her further away?

---

Link should’ve spoken up when he had the chance. He had known their party wouldn’t make it back to Rito Village before the storm hit, even with the shortcut. They had been out in the wilderness conducting research for days and everyone was eager to get back to the village, so they chose to ignore the warning signs. He wanted to speak up, tell the others that they should make camp and wait until the snow stopped falling, but he hadn’t been able to find his voice at the time. And now they were all paying for his weakness.

He was alone with the princess, silently working on starting a fire while she sat close by. Link didn’t need to look at her to know how bleak their situation was. She was practically folded in on herself, shivering from the cold. They had been lost in the white-out blizzard for at least an hour before finding the cave they were in now. His hands couldn’t seem to strike the flint correctly to start the spark. If he couldn't start a fire soon, they would definitely be dead by morning. Hypothermia would set in and they would both freeze to death before anyone could come find th-

“Could I try?”. The princess’s hoarse voice startled Link out of his thoughts. She hadn’t spoken to him since they had gotten inside the cave, though that wasn’t unusual. She only spoke directly to him when she absolutely had to, and never in a very friendly manner. He silently handed over the flint, which she took with a bleak smile. After 3 strikes, there were soft embers glowing in at the bottom of their small wood pile.

Link quickly got close to fan the embers, and soon the flames sprung up, casting shadows along the icy cave walls. Both of them moved closer to the fire, relishing in the heat they hadn’t had for so long. The silence between them was deafening, only broken up by the soft crackles of the wood being burned away.

---

By the time he was warm enough to move, the princess had fallen asleep. Link pulled out a small pot and began to walk towards the entrance of the cave. The princess may have dozed off, but they were going to need food soon. He collected snow and set the pot over the fire, continuing to add more snow as it continued to melt over the flames until the pot was full.

Once he finished, Link grabbed his sword and ventured outside once again. The visibility was still nonexistent, but he needed to find more wood or they wouldn't outlive the blizzard. He ran his gloved hand along the outside wall of the cave and stuck his sword arm out in the other direction. Walking blindly, he relied solely on his other senses, counting each step he took away from the cave entrance. If he was lucky, there would be a tree close to the cave and he wouldn’t have to venture far.

Link only had to walk a few meters before he felt something hit his sword. Hylia seemed to be smiling upon him, even after all she had put him through today. It was almost as if the goddess herself was calling his name in the wind gusts, giving him the strength he thought had been depleted. He wasn’t entirely sure how well a sword would hold up in place of an ax, but he managed to get a decent amount of firewood before heading back into the safety of the cave.

---

As Link regained his sight back in the cave, he noticed two things: the princess was awake, and she seemed to be crying. He instinctively dropped the wood he collected to rush to her side, startling her in the process. As she caught sight of him, grief quickly changed into relief, and then to anger, which managed to stop him dead in his tracks. Her emotions were always so easy to read, it was one of his favorite things about her. Hylia, he wished that he could wear his emotions as clearly as she wore hers.

“Where have you been?!?” She shouted, wiping angrily at her tear-filled eyes. Her voice rang through the icy cave. “I woke up and you were gone! What kind of knight leaves the person they’re supposed to be guarding without any sort of notice? What was so important that you couldn’t wait until I woke up?”

Dumbfounded by her outburst, Link simply looked down at the firewood he had collected. He wanted to apologize for scaring her, for leaving her alone, but apparently she wasn’t done.

“Firewood? You left me alone for firewood?” She had risen from her spot and was now marching towards him. “What if there had been a bear or something in here? I was vulnerable sleeping! You could have at least woken me up and told me where you were going!” Now that she was closer, Link saw that the princesses’ face wasn’t contorted in anger. She was scared. Her voice was quieter the next time she spoke. “I was calling for you. I thought you left me.”

Link’s heart ached. He knew the trials and adversity the princess had overcome. He wanted to reach out, to comfort her. But he didn’t know how to. The words wouldn’t come to him. The princess stared at him for a few seconds, and then bent down to gather up the rest of the firewood.

---

They didn’t have much. The carrots, Hyrule herbs, a few chillshrooms, and some bits of dried meat from Link’s pack were all thrown into the pot to boil into a soup. Link silently poured out the soup into two bowls, and handed one to Zelda. It wasn’t much, but it was edible, and left them both feeling rather warm inside. The cold air seemed to be a little less frigid once they were finished.

“I would never leave you.” Link said softly as he packed up the equipment. He knew he wasn’t the best with words, but he was feeling extra courageous. They had survived the day. She needed to know he was someone she could count on. But still, his cheeks were burning, and the princesses’ silence wasn’t helping. Once everything was packed up, he finally had summoned the courage to look at her again.

Wide, green eyes were focused on him, her mouth slightly agape. Was she in shock? Had he really said something so out of place that it warranted that reaction? What more did she want, an apology? It was better to be safe than sorry. “Your Highness, I’m-”

“That’s the first time you’ve spoken to me.” She blurted out over him. Link could feel his cheeks warming again, and was thankful for the cold to blame. “That’s the first time ever.”

Link shook his head. There was no way that she was right in that statement. He didn’t speak often, but he still had a voice that he used when it was warranted. “I’ve definitely spoken around you before, princess.”

Zelda laughed dryly. “You’ve spoken around me before-rarely, I might add-but you’ve never spoken to me. Not directly, at least.”

Link found himself dumbfounded once again. He had always assumed the princess didn’t want to talk to him, so he never made an effort. She was intimidating, and was one of the few people he didn’t want to be on the bad side of. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Was he supposed to apologize? Ask for forgiveness? Was it even a big deal that he had never spoken to her before? Knights don't speak to princesses unless they were explicitly told to. The fact that he was the chosen hero and her personal guard didn’t change his status as a knight, did it?

“Do you have a torch? I want to look around.” She was scanning the walls covered in ice. The cavern looked like it had been untouched for centuries, there was no trace of animals or Hylians inside. He could tell she was anticipating him to shoot her down. “We won’t go far, I just want to see a little further back.”

Link located the torch he had in his pack and lit it from the flames, before doing it again with another torch and handing it off. They walked in silence, with Link listening for any sign of life, the princess looking for anything interesting.

---

Link was the first to break the silence, more out of curiosity than awkwardness. “Your Highness, what exactly are you looking for?”

“It’s a long shot, but I read some research a few months ago about these rumored skeletons. They’re supposed to be as big as houses, Link! The research itself was from years ago, but I was hoping to find the skeletons. One is supposed to be in the Hebra mountains, far from civilization. They called it a leviathan in their research, but I wonder what the actual name was?” The princess continued to ramble on about the possibilities and ramifications of a creature of that caliber existing. Link listened to her endearingly, smiling to himself. She always got off on some kind of tangent whenever scientific theories were involved. Her voice bounced off the walls, creating its own symphony with her as the star. Link was so distracted by the music it took him a few seconds to realize the princess had stopped talking.

His eyes found her quickly. “You probably think I’m a disgrace. I have yet to awaken my sealing power and I’m in the Hebra Mountains looking for a skeleton for fun. I-”

“I don’t think you’re a disgrace,” Link interrupted. The princess whipped around and stared at him as he quickly continued. “You’ve tried your hardest up until this point, and there’s not much more we can do until you turn 17 and we can go to the Spring of Wisdom. It’s not that the sealing power isn’t manifesting because you aren’t trying hard enough. Also, you’re allowed to enjoy things in life, princess, even if it is searching for a skeleton that might not exist.”

The princess looked like she wanted to say something, but Link rushed on. “Besides, I know you’ve been praying to Hylia every morning and night that we’ve been on this expedition. Even when you’re supposed to be taking a break, you don’t. I admire your determination and willpower more than you know.”

Now that he was done talking, Link felt as if he had overstepped his boundaries. He couldn’t stop himself from blurting all of that out. All of his feelings and emotions were bubbling to the surface now that they were alone and being vulnerable with each other. He needed her to know that her effort wasn’t going unnoticed or unappreciated. He needed her to know that she was important to somebody.

The princess was unusually quiet for a while after that. Link wanted to say more, but he also wanted to give her space. He had overstepped once, it wasn’t wise to do it a second time in such a short time span. He followed behind her silently, searching the cavern for anything interesting that might catch the attention of the princess while listening for any movement beyond the two of them.

“Link-” the princess gasped, and Link drew his sword as he turned back towards her. She was frozen, holding her torch up as far as she could. He could see a faint outline of bone illuminated by the torch light. “It’s here. It’s actually here!”

Seeing that she was in no danger, Link sheathed his sword and walked towards the skeleton himself. Without a word, he stood near her to allow her visibility range to widen as much as possible. With both of their torches, they could just see the top of the skeleton. She hadn’t been lying, the leviathan was easily twice as big as his family home in Hateno.

“I can’t believe we found it. We found it, Link!” The princesses’ eyes shone and her smile widened. It has been a long time since that smile, her genuine smile, came to light. Link had forgotten how contagious it was, and found a smile dancing across his lips as he watched her.

It was like watching a child on the playground. She ran from bone to bone, using her arms to measure the width of each one. For the ones she couldn’t wrap her arms around completely, she had Link assist her. She measured each one, accompanied with pictures of every angle with the Sheikah Slate. She finally got to the back of the beast, and stared up at it. It was clear she wanted to try to climb to the top, but had no way of knowing where to start.

“Do you want to try to climb it, princess?” Link asked, Believing he already knew the answer. He started scaling the bones before the princess even answered his question.

“Link!” She cried desperately. “Be careful! They might break.”

He hadn’t thought of that. He quickly climbed back down. “Sorry, Your Highness,” he mumbled, fully embarrassed. “I didn’t think about that.”

The laugh that escaped her lips was light and teasing. “You never think,” she said in between breaths. She was wiping at her eyes again, tears of joy instead of sorrow. “That’s why we’re down here exploring this creepy cave and not sitting by the fire. That’s why we found the leviathan.”

The princess waited a while before speaking again.

“We probably should go back now,” she admitted.

“Probably.”

---

Back at the fire, their adrenaline wearing off, the princess and her knight seemed to realize how tired they both had become.

“You need sleep, princess.” It wasn’t a request. Link wanted her to rest after the long day they had.

“You need sleep too, sir knight.” Her tone mocked him, and he wondered if he had done something to offend her. “You can call me Zelda, you know.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Zelda.” Her name felt good on his lips. It sounded sweet to her ears.

“We should both sleep,” Zelda said. “Nothing is going to bother us in this cave. I’m sure Hylia will protect her chosen ones if there is.” She sounded sarcastic and bitter, but Link wasn’t sure if he was misinterpreting her tone.

They both laid down next to the fire, their heads near one another. Link stared at the flames, entrancing him dangerously close to sleep.

“You know, if you can find a mythical leviathan that isn’t supposed to exist, I think you’ll be able to conquer your sealing power as well.”

“That’s easy for you to say.” She didn’t need to say anything further, they both knew what she was thinking.

“You deserve to have someone on your side, Zelda.” And he was on her side, wholeheartedly. With that, they both fell asleep quickly, unsure of what the next day would bring.

By the next day, the winds had shifted. The sun was out, and they could continue their journey to Rito Village. As they walked out of the mouth of the cave, Zelda turned back to it. “Goodbye, cave.” Link noticed that she almost sounded disappointed to leave it behind. With a sigh, she turned back to him and they set out to Rito Village once again.

--

One hundred years later, the cave felt so much colder without her next to him.

[naplunamod]

HUMAN

It wasn’t uncommon for families to show up in Konoha practically overnight. Some fleeing war or personal attacks. Others famine or poor living conditions. And yet others for seemingly no reasons at all. It was known practically throughout all the great nations that Konoha was a place of refuge. However, there was something to be said for the Haruno household. A small merchant family of three that appeared in the middle of the night they claimed to be the sole survivors from a small tributary boarding the outskirts of Fire territory. When shinobi were sent out to verify their story, as was procedure, they only found a few strange, withered vines but not a single person remained.

  From the moment they moved to Konoha there was something that just didn’t sit right with them. Something a bit unnatural. The parents, Mebuki and Kizashi, tried a bit too hard to fit in. Their laughs a bit too loud, their eyes a bit too human, their smiles a bit too friendly. It was almost as though everything about them was too human to seem natural. The daughter, Sakura, was off in a way that was completely different from her parents. While her parents seemed a bit too human, she was the opposite. She didn’t talk much and smiled even less. Her coloring too, was odd, looking like neither of her parents with her very pink pink hair and her eyes that seemed to be a bit too green. Even her body portions seemed to be off in a way that one couldn’t exactly put their finger on aside from the fact that her forehead was a bit too big.

 It was because of this that she was often the target of bullying, especially from the children that were bigger and more…normal than her. It was during one of these bullyings that Shisui met her. Heading home from the Konoha Police Department, following a debriefing on yet another missing persons case, in normal shinobi fashion he was traveling by rooftop. It gave him time to think and process the recent events. There had been quiet a few disappearances as of late though at the moment they had nothing to go on. None of the M.O.s were the same. There was no rhyme or reason to the disappearances as none of the victims had anything in common. The suspect, whoever it was, was indiscriminate, kidnapping -or maybe trafficking- people of all ages (from infants to the elderly) and backgrounds. In fact, the reason the police department became alerted to the disappearances was because a few noble clanspeople had been among some of the more recent victims. If things kept going the way, they were a village wide curfew would be instated soon and that was always a headache.

Shisui, sighed scanning his surroundings. That’s when he first noticed the group of about six or so children circled around something in the back of one of the alleys.  Figuring that the kids had cornered a cat or something Shisui jumped from the roof intending to save the poor unfortunate creature. At least that’s what he thought until he got a bit closer and could hear their taunts of “It’s all your fault!”

“Yeah!”

“Chuuya would still be here if you hadn’t showed up you forehead-freak!”

“Go back to wherever you came from and bring Chuuya back!”

“We don’t want you here!”  With a deepening frown Shisui landed behind the kids startling them and sending them all running with a stern glare and promises of talking to their parents the following day about harassing others.

 Walking over to see who it was the kids were harassing, though he had a feeling he already knew, he was still not prepared for what - or rather who- uncurled from a ball (that was much larger than he thought). It was the small pink haired Haruno child. He watched in fascination as she slowly lowered her arms and looked around skittishly as though she had expected them to still be there until her eyes landed on him. Disturbingly he noted the lack of tears from her swollen eyes. Though there was a level of fear in them, it was soon replaced by instant trust as she smiled at him. He should have known then that something was off.

It was beginning to get dark out and not knowing where her parents were, he decided to walk her home. As he took her hand, he noted she couldn’t have been more than maybe four years old. The same age as his youngest cousin. The moment he took her hand every shinobi sense he possessed screamed danger but looking down at what was basically the human embodiment of fluff Shisui shoved them to the back of his mind. There was no way something so small and Pink could be deadly. Especially to an Uchiha. So, with that in mind he asked the small girl where she lived at and if she could lead him to her home.  The walk to her home was silent…and if there was one thing Shisui couldn’t stand when he wasn’t on the job was silence so he began talking about any and everything, though he was somewhat surprised at her lack of response. He had heard rumors of her being abnormally quiet, but he figured it was just that…a rumor. Finally, at one point he managed to get a small soft-spoken “Sakura” when he asked for her name but nothing more.

Much to his relief, her home was soon in view. Approaching the house, he noted that there were no lights on inside. He had heard of merchant families leaving their children behind when traveling but he never figured that it would happen to a child so young. Still as the young girl opened the door to go inside, he couldn’t just let her stay there all alone. With this resolve, once again ignoring his instincts, he followed her inside. He watched the girl shuffle off to the back of the house without turning on a light, assuming she was heading to the bathroom to clean up her cuts and bruises. The living room was sparsely furnished, he noted, as he turned on the light. There was a single couch but no table, or pictures, or anything to make the home inviting. It was as though no one lived here. Moving on to the kitchen, to see if she at least had food to eat, he frowned when there was no human food to be found in any of the cabinets or the refrigerator-only plant food. What kind of parents let a young child home alone with no food and no money to feed herself? He’d have to ask his aunt Mikoto to if she’d be willing to stop by occasionally to ensure that the girl was eating properly. This kind of behavior -shouldn’t -no, couldn’t- go on, and when her parents returned, he’d be having a word with them in front of the Hokage. Then again it was possible that maybe he was jumping to conclusions. Maybe they were just out for the evening.  

“Hey Sakura-chan…Are your parents out for the evening? Did they leave you anything to eat for dinner?” He called out deciding to check in the oven just in case, noting that it was off and with a frown ne leaned in to have a closer look inside.

He nearly jumped out of his skin and successfully bumped his head in the oven when quite suddenly small hands tugged on the back of his shirt. He never even heard her approach. He was a shinobi for kami’s sake, an Uchiha! There was no way he shouldn’t have heard her approach.

 “They’re out back tending the garden…” came the same soft reply as she pointed down the hallway where he had seen her disappear to earlier. She fidgeted and looked at her feet for a moment before looking up at him with eyes that seemed a bit too green…a bit too wide….a bit too… innocent in the kitchen light. “T…they want to thank you for saving me today…” Not giving him a chance to answer she grabbed his hand and led him down the darkened hallway and through the door which he previously assumed was the bathroom but was actually a door to the back yard. A back yard that was now as dark as the interior of the house was and was filled with pumpkins.

Activating his Sharigan to see better, he still managed to stumble as Sakura led him through the garden. With each step he took his feet seemed to tangle more and more in pumpkin vines. The further they went into the yard the bigger and more varied and less pumpkin like the pumpkins seemed to get. Some were regular looking orange pumpkins; some were dark green and yet others were white. Most were smooth but a few were irregularly shaped and/or had various lumps and bumps on them. Some seemed, though he was almost positive it was a trick of his imagination, when glancing at them from the corner of his eyes – for the briefest of moments – to have faces, but not all and never when he looked at them directly. Whenever he turned to look at them, expecting to see what he thought were faces – possibly contorted in fear or pain – he saw nothing but the fruit surrounding them. So he chocked it up to atmosphere fueled paranoia.  

For such a small yard it seemed to be strangely huge. Grunting as his foot got caught on one particularly large vine, Shisui tumbled forward as the young child continued forward with him in tow seemingly unbothered by the vines. In fact, maybe it was his imagination again, but it almost seemed like the vines were only aiming to trip him up. But…that couldn’t be possible. Merchants didn’t know jutsus, let alone have the chakra to perform them. But, as vines seemed to wrap around his hands, he knew something was up and yet his sharigan could detect no chakra. The more he tried to free himself the more vines creeped up entangling him.

 “Mama….Papa I brought him just like you asked.” The soft voice brought Shisui out of his musing and ceased his struggling for just a moment.

“This’ll help me become fully human right? And then I’ll finally fit in with the other kids?”

Shisui looked around easily locating Sakura but not who she was talking to. Nor did he hear any replies. All his roaming eyes could find were just two of the largest pumpkins he had ever seen. Feeling a vine creeping around his neck, and a few on his head from behind,  he renewed his struggles even as Sakura turned her head to look at him her eyes shining so bright in the darkness, he could have sworn they were two bright flames, reminiscent of those in a Jack-O-Lantern. A part of him was stunned, angry even to see that there was a certain sadness to them as she backed up between the two giant gourds.

 “I’m sorry, Shinobi-san…I…I just want to be a normal kid.”

[aka-indulgence]

Your Nightmare

Commission for the amazing @someseriousthot!

Thank you for commissioning me >u<

Ao3 Link!

Warning: Kidnapping, and some *close call* stuff... Think “Lime”. (More specific warnings tagged in ao3 because I don’t want the platform to get mad at me -v-)

(Nightmare Sans/Reader)

You’re an ordinary human. A decent person, if anything. Kind, and gentle.

He should’ve hated everything about you.

But... he doesn’t. The fact couldn’t be further away from that.

He’s obsessed with you, and he lets you know through the countless nightmares he feeds you every night he visits.

And soon... You’re going to become his.

It was dark.

Darker than the night, darker than black.

It was void where you stood. You can’t move. You don’t know where you are- but it feels like you’ve been stuck here forever. You try to move your legs, your hands- tried to look around, call for help, anything- but you couldn’t so much as to wiggle your fingers. All your efforts only seemed to succeed in making you tremble. You try to breathe, but it felt like a ton had been weighed on your chest, struggling to get air in you. The fear seeped through you as you realized…

You were paralyzed.

You stand there, struggling until you see something- someone forming in the distance.

There… Appears a figure that had been haunting you, one that fills you with dread every time they revealed themselves. If you weren’t already paralyzed where you were, you would’ve felt like you’ve frozen when you saw… him.

A skeletal figure materialized before you, his whole body black- somehow darker than the void you were in. Black like the emptiness of space and worse, save for one blue light illuminating his left socket. Tentacles were writhing behind him as he watched you, a wide, eerie smile plastered on his face, devoid of kindness or mercy. His entire body is drenched in with what looks to be black sludge, covering his right eyesocket completely, the ooze dripping off his tentacles as they continued to twist and turn behind him.

Your nightmare begins.

He stares you down, and when he takes a step forward, the instinct to flee immediately takes over you, breaking yourself out of your paralysis. You twist your body away from him, quickly breaking into a sprint. Your breath escapes you too fast, and you feel tired, your chest still feeling as if something’s constricting it.

Every movement you make felt like it needed so much effort, and though it looks like you were running in a vast emptiness, it felt like non-existent walls were closing in on you.

The figure doesn’t even have to do much. When you look behind, you see him walking at a leisurely pace, yet every step he makes brings him closer and closer to you. Your desperate running feels like it’s taking you nowhere. The closer he gets the more excited he looks, that blue eye of his glowing brighter, almost electrically so, while his tentacles start to move rapidly, making increasingly excited movements.

You start to scream.

———————————————————————————————————

Nightmare stands by your bedside, staring down your sleeping form. A single inky black tentacle is imbedded into your head, making soft, wave-like movements as he fed his nightmare into you. Even though he’s out here in the waking realm, he was also inside your nightmare, watching you as you desperately try to escape him, his grin widening both in nightmare and reality as he closes in on you.

It always was exciting the closer he got to you, to have you tangled up in his tentacles.

You toss and turn in your bed, an occasional whimper escaping you. His blue light dilates while his grin sharpens sadistically.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the view.

This is a common scene in Nightmare’s day-to-day. He’s been quietly feeding on the negative emotions of humans and monsters alike, visiting them in their sleep and giving them nightmares to feed on their fear and horror. But for some reason… he’s been especially drawn to you, and Nightmare keeps finding himself standing in your room like he is now, pleasuring in your listless, restless sleep.

By all means, Nightmare should be repulsed by you- your soul glowed the brightest in the area around you. You were happy, pleasant, gentle. Always looking for the best out of life, a smile always seeming to grace your face. You saw the best of people. Everything good Nightmare could list was a part of you.

You were brave, fair, kind, patient. You had a stable and strong moral ground, and you persevered when life gets you down… Determined to go through your life as a decent person.

It was everything that Nightmare hated.

Yet…

Somehow… Those were the exact reasons he found himself so drawn to you. Pull him in to keep coming back again and again to your room, where you were sleeping peacefully in his absence.

And when he entered your dreams and turned it all into a nightmare… He’d revel when that peaceful face of yours turns into that of agony and panic.

Every time he inflicted his nightmares on you… It’s the most thrilling nights he ever has.

When he first found you, he hadn’t directly made an appearance in your nightmares. He was just a shadow- creeping along the edges of your consciousness, letting you feel his presence. Watching every one of your reactions as he twisted your dreams into something horrifying.

But even from the first night, already Nightmare had become curious about you. And as he became more and more interested, the thought of letting you see him… It made him excited like nothing else. To let you meet the entity that terrorized you so, to see your eyes on him, and only him- unable to look away out of sheer terror.

It sent a pleasurable shiver down his spine.

He’d appear to you in the dream, forming out of a puddle of black in the ground, slowly making himself apparent. Sometimes, he wouldn’t appear immediately. Creeping around, letting you get more and more anxious as you traveled the dreamscape, unable to shake off the feeling that you’re being followed. When you notice him, the fun begins- your face contorting to panic once you see him. If Nightmare had a heart, he’d say it was pumping hard while he chased you down through the abstract architecture that formed his nightmares.

Sometimes, he’d give you a head start. Letting you run away for a while after you’d see him. It always brought a smile to his face when he sees the look of terror in your eyes, suddenly seized by his squirming tentacles, having appeared directly behind you.

Whenever he chased you through your dreams, something predatory seemed to awaken in him…

There was a thrill whenever he chased you down- his prey. He’d play around with you, make you think like you could escape him, only to let you know that you couldn’t escape his nightmare. Every time he got closer to you he could feel his smile widen while his tentacles swerved and turned- craving to have you in them. Most dreams he’d let you go- leaving right before he got to you. But sometimes he’d catch you, and he’d take sadistic glee when you find to your horror that you couldn’t wake up from your nightmare.

Being able to turn someone with so much positivity in them, who’s soul shone like a bright light in a sea of others, into such a fearful and anxious little thing gave him a sense of immense power. He felt so much control over you, it was addicting. So satisfying to turn someone’s joy into fear, and yours was particularly delicious to him because of how drastic the change was.

But it wasn’t just that sense of power that’s brought him back to your room night after night… It’s exactly your glowing soul that’s got him hooked onto you.

Nightmare is an entity of darkness- someone who’d get hurt if he was exposed to the light. Even if it didn’t, it was in his nature to be disgusted by it, to have the urge to extinguish it.

But…

Because of the nightmares he inflicts on you, all that powerful positive energy could be turned negative. And so, he could spend time with you without having that urge to snuff out your light. And even when your nightmares ended, your soul turning back from a dim, fearful one into that soft glowing light, like a firefly in the night… Nightmare found himself drawn to it.

He doesn’t understand why. Maybe because he’s gone so long without the light, always filled with the need to get rid of it whenever it’s near, that when he finds something… Someone that didn’t repel him, Nightmare isn’t willing to let go. He’s spent so long without the light, he’d forgotten about why it was such a good thing in the first place.

And he basked in your light.

Nightmare takes a deep inhale, groaning as he feeds. You were screaming in his nightmare, and it’s then that he’s had his fill. He retracts his tentacle, a shlorp audible as it finally pulls out of your head.

After a few more gasps and whimpers of you collecting yourself, you calmed down. You returned to a peaceful slumber, breathing in relief when you realize the nightmare is over.

Because you had so much positive energy that Nightmare could convert into something negative, he’s always able to satisfy himself in one night from feeding on your fears alone. And so Nightmare could spend some time just with you for the rest of the night.

He didn’t need anyone else.

Your soul slowly starts to gleam again, filled with relief and calmness.

Nightmare doesn’t just find it tolerable… He finds the soft glow of your soul beautiful.

Now that his nightmare is over and Nightmare’s had his fill, he should be able to retreat to the darkness and rest himself.

But he just couldn’t tear his eyelight away from your sleeping face. The way the moonlight made it look like your skin glowed… That silky hair.

You look so calm and serene… Oblivious to his presence.

So innocent… So pure.

He wanted to touch your light, keep it to himself.

He gives in to his temptations, and slowly, he peels the blanket off your sleeping body, curled up from the fear that took over you in your nightmare. Now, you’ve considerably relaxed, no longer clutching onto the blanket, your muscles lax. The nightgown you wore draped over your body in such a way that made his breaths quicken, make him want to run his hands up and down you, feel every curve and inch of your skin. Two tentacles move forward, circling around your chest and your legs, gently lifting you off the bed. He slides into it, right where you slept with his back to the headboard, and slowly lowers you on top of him.

He exhales as his tentacles retract, placing your head on his chest while your legs laid between his. So close to you, he could smell your hair, a soft sweet scent.

Vanilla? Or… Caramel?

It was the scent of home. Of morning sun in your hair.

Whatever it is, Nightmare enjoyed it, taking deep breaths of it. He put his skull on top of your head while he smelled more of you, his arms coming around to embrace you. One hand rested on your waist while the other came up to your cheek- hesitating for a moment before he ran his phalanges along the soft skin, sighing as he leans back. His tentacles come closer, instinctively drawn to you, to your warmth. His breaths start to slow as he pulls you closer, pressing you in the slightest to his chest as he buries his face in your hair. His tentacles tenderly wrap around you without his conscious thought.

One winding around your arm up to your wrist, another twisting around your waist, down your left thigh, to your calf. Another climbed up your right leg, and another circles around your chest drawing near your center, above your soul.

He gently cups your cheek as he presses his skull to your crown, reveling in the closeness, the intimacy of your position on him. He could feel your quiet breaths brush against his neck, a pleasured rumble building in his chest.

He always enjoyed whenever he managed to have you to himself in these quiet nights. It was many nights ago that Nightmare had found himself staring down at your sleeping body, having no intentions on leaving so soon. He watched your glowing soul, his eyelight roaming all over you, tempting him to touch you, pulling him into your bed, to entwine himself around you.

Nightmare found himself addicted to yet another part of you- the softness of your body against him, your face so close to his when he holds you.

He was at ease when he held you… And it had a calming effect on you too. You didn’t fight him off when he picks up your sleeping body, nor did you flinch when his tentacles wrap around you. It filled his chest with a feeling of want, like you weren’t afraid of him, that the sensation of his tentacles and sludge against you didn’t disgust you. His breath comes out shakily at the thought. He holds it when he feels you nestling up against him, unafraid, unaware of the sinister entity that was holding you.

He lets his phalanges slide down from your cheek to your neck, stroking it thoughtfully. You make quiet whimpers and mewls as his phalanges traces over your skin, sounds that excited him. Make him want you closer- to cover you up with his inky black gunk and claim you as his.

There were no nightmares. No fear, no anxiety. He’s just… Resting with you, letting himself roam over you, feel you- his leg brushing up against yours. Just a quiet moment that Nightmare could indulge in. He never had quiet moments- something was always going on. Whether it’s causing corruptions in a universe so he could feed, or fighting off those intervening Star-Sanses, Nightmare had always been on the move. And so he savors these quiet moments.

Just him and you. One small human in his embrace as he rests through the night. Something… Someone positive he could indulge in.

During the nights when he’s in your bed like this, his tentacles coiled around you… He gets the most tempted to just take you, to bring you back with him. He’s become obsessed, with this human that wouldn’t seem special to anyone else. A normal human in a mundane universe.

His other hand trails down your stomach down to your leg, slipping under the gown to touch your thigh. Feeling the warmth on his phalanges, his breaths becoming heavier…

He wants to take you back to his domain, his pocket dimension where his castle resides. He’d be able to keep you all to himself, where no one would disturb his time with you… Where he could spend as much time as he wanted with you.

He’s wanted to do that as soon as he realized he’s become obsessed with you. But he grits his teeth, knowing he can’t do that just yet.

The irritable Star-Sanses had driven him away from his territories, managing to have the upper hand recently. They managed to take Killer away from him- one of the most useful members of his group, someone who had no emotion and could kill easily because of it. They somehow got way too close to his “kingdom” for his liking, and it drove him to hide away. With his castle under “surveillance”, the so-called Sanses looking for him to turn up again, he couldn’t return to it lest he gets pulled into another battle with them.

He’d jump from universe to universe, eventually losing their pursuit, when he found your universe. There was nothing outwardly special about yours, which was exactly why it was such a good place for him to hide and lay low for a while. Biding his time, storing his energy… When he meets them again, he’ll give them one hell of a fight.

Soon, however… He’ll be able to take you. Something else is happening in the multiverse, causing corruption and destruction. Another universe-hopping entity running amok. The Star-Sanses had stopped looking for him, their attention pulled away. Soon, Nightmare will be able to return to his realm.

And when he does… He’ll bring you along with him.

He holds you for a bit longer, letting his tentacles smother you, his phalanges stroking your chin. He closes his socket, savoring the moment… When he notices the first few rays of sun reaching the floor of your room. His calm grin turned into a frown, his phalanges curling up around your face.

It was time to leave.

Reluctantly, he pulls back all but two of his tentacles, picking you off of him, gently laying you back down once he’s gotten off your bed. His tentacles linger for a few moments longer before finally unwillingly pull back from you.

Night after night, his urge to have you grows.

Nightmare remains where he was beside your bed, his single eyelight watching your restful face, the morning light bouncing off of your skin.

Even though he always took pleasure in your pretty, fearful face… When your face isn’t distorted by fright, peacefully resting like this, you look beautiful.

He pulls the blanket back onto you, tucking you in. He wanted to make sure you’ll have a comfortable rest.

Because soon, you might not have anymore of those.

He leans in near you, putting his teeth close to your ears, and whispers.

“Sleep well, my dear… Soon, we’ll be able to meet.”

———————————————————————————————————

The sound of scrubbing filled the air as you brush your teeth, spitting the foam into the sink soon after. You cup your hands under the faucet and splash your face with water, feeling the droplets trickle down your chin. You wash your face and spray more water, looking at the mirror as the suds clear away from your face.

… You look horrible.

You hadn’t had a restful night in a long while. You couldn’t- you’ve been having nightmares lately, and they only seem to get worse. They all had one thing in common- a dark skeletal figure, oozing with darkness, with twisting and thrashing tentacles that looked like they were always searching for you.

It was always the same. As soon as you notice, you were running. You’d run as much as you could, hid the best to your abilities, desperate to get away from him (you always assumed they were a he…). But he was relentless. Every bit of running you did never seemed to deter him, and there was always a way for him to stay on your heels while his tentacles reach for you. Sometimes you’d wake up right before he got to you, or when you manage to fall into a pit.

Then there are times when his tentacles would find you…

Thinking about it just gives you shivers. It’s as if you could feel the ooze on your skin as they squirmed all over you- grabbing you by your leg when you were hiding somewhere, screaming as you were lifted into the air, face to face with your captor. The figure had a sadistic smile present whenever he heard you screaming, struggling to free yourself of his bonds. His laughing only got louder and more manic as more of his tentacles grabbed you- and you couldn’t stop screaming. You’d think that you’d be able to wake up once he’s caught you, but there are times where you’d stay in that position for so long. Where all you do is try to break out of his hold, only to have more of those dripping black tentacles cover over of you.

… It was always the worst when he caught you.

Sometimes he’d speak to you. His voice was deep, something dark lying underneath it. Like the devil trying to coax you into giving him your soul. He’d taunt you as you were running, telling you to

“Run away, little girl. Run away from your monster.”

It sounds as if he spoke to you both from where he was and inside your mind. It reminded you how no matter what you did… He was always behind you.

He spoke to you while he caught you as well, his voice dripping with false sympathy, saying how “What a poor thing you are, trapped and hopeless…” while you struggled to keep his tentacles away from you.

You started to dread going to sleep. It used to come by every week or so, then it became twice a week, then every other day, and eventually every night… You would be visited by a nightmare. When night falls you’d get anxious, and you wonder… Why was it always the same entity that appeared in your dreams? They were the most vivid dreams you’ve ever had, feeling every inch of his slimy, horrid tendrils when you became entangled in them.

You’ve told your friends about the recurring nightmares and even went to a psychologist once. You told them about the skeletal figure that chased you relentlessly throughout your nights, making your mornings feel tired and restless. You don’t know where he came from- you’ve had uncomfortable dreams before he suddenly appeared, and he kept returning ever since. It always felt so real, and you were terrified of him.

But most of them have told you the same- it was just a dream. “He’s not real,” They’d say. “He can’t hurt you,” They’d say. It may be a form of something bad in your life turning into something awful in your mind when you slept. He can’t get to you.

You laughed it off then- feeling like a child. It was just in your dreams, in your head. Probably some kind of manifestation of your subconscious. You might be having terrible night terrors, but he isn’t real and he can’t catch you when you’re awake and conscious.

… But… Sometimes, late at night when you’re in between sleep and consciousness… When you peek out of your eyelids, you swear you could see a shadowy figure in the corner of your room, watching you unblinkingly with that glowing blue orb as you fall asleep. And every time you managed to jolt your self awake, searching for him- he wasn’t there.

You don’t know what to believe- sometimes you fear that you might be going insane.

But as much as you dreaded those nightmares, you knew you needed sleep.

You’ve tried avoiding it once. Try to keep yourself awake, sitting in your bed, only to end up falling asleep anyways. You had the nightmare again- but it felt worse. Even in the dream, you felt lethargic and weak, and your anxiety felt ten times worse. The skeletal figure had again appeared and had easily caught you, pulling you close to him and laughing at you when you can’t even struggle against him, wishing for your nightmare to end.

You couldn’t avoid it, so you didn’t try to anymore. It was just something you had to go through your nights now.

You slip into your nightwear, walking towards your bedroom. You do your best to ignore the uneasiness creeping up on you as you enter, locking the door. You turn off the lights and slip into bed, thinking of good thoughts to calm yourself down, preparing yourself to sleep.

As you slowly slip silently into unconsciousness, your mind is suddenly alert when you see him. A dark corner of your room, grin flashing on his face.

You’re lying on your side, an arm dangling off the bed when you saw him. The dread you felt earlier comes back with a vengeance as you try to scream, but your lips barely move. You try to get away, to hide, but your utmost efforts only bring a twitch to your finger.

You’re in sleep paralysis.

The realization hits you like a truck, and through your unmoving eyes, you see him start to come closer. Your heart hammers in your chest, your mind screaming for you to move but your body doesn’t obey. You feel your breath quicken as you’re forced to watch his approach. Eventually, you manage to get your dangling arm moving, throwing it on top of the blanket. You grab it and with what little control you have, pull it up over you, hiding you.

You try to control your breathing as you peek out of the blanket.

He isn’t moving anymore, and when you look twice- you notice he hadn’t even moved from the spot in his corner. Your eyesight wavers and the figure just turns into static shadow in the corner of your room. Your heart continues to thump in your chest as you stare out, fearing if he was going to return, but you don’t see any movement. Eventually, you tell yourself that this is enough, giving in to your exhaustion, and your eyes close.

…

You’re… Somewhere else.

You were still on a dark landscape, but standing in front of you was a black castle. Darker than the rest of where you were, reminding you of him.

But as you turn around, looking in all directions, searching… He was nowhere to be seen. And something you noticed very quickly was the fact you could move at all.

Having nothing else to do, you walk through the entrance, grand, reminding you of royalty. As you moved through the black hallways, running your hand along the walls, feeling its smoothness, you wonder.

Why are you here?

It didn’t feel like your usual nightmare. It felt more like a surreal, weird dream. You could think much more clearly, and you didn’t feel fear building inside of you. But even so, something about the castle made you uncomfortable. Like something’s not right.

… Like you’re being watched.

You spend what feels like hours just exploring and turning around the winding hallways, climbing up and down ebony stairs, when you finally reach an opening in what seems to be the heart of the castle. Its entrance is grand as well. Not as big as the one you used to enter the castle, but it felt more… regal.

When you enter, you see two chairs pressed to the wall.

This is probably the throne room.

One of the thrones is huge- tall and imposing, fit for a ruler. Somewhere where they would be able to look over the room and address anyone in it. Next to it is a smaller throne.

Even though it was smaller and black like everything else, it was adorned with decorations. Some patterns swirled and winded along its back and top.

You couldn’t stop staring at the smaller throne. It felt… Right, for once. It set your chest at ease. You wanted to keep looking at it, feeling an inexplicable draw to it, like you were being pulled towards it. A voice inside your mind tells you

Sit. Sit on it. You want to sit on it, it looks so pretty and nice. You want to sit on it.

Without making conscious effort, your body obeys, your feet bringing you closer to it step by step. It felt like it belonged to you… It felt like you belonged there. Like that’s where you’re supposed to be. It brought you a sense of rightfulness and a sort of strange joy in you.

A smile tugs at your lips as you approach.

You want to sit on that throne.

But as you draw nearer… You stop yourself, your smile falling. Where are all these feelings coming from? It is a beautiful chair, especially now as you stand closer you could see more of the intricacies on the patterns that adorned the throne- but you don’t understand why you felt so drawn to it.

You stand in front of the throne, thinking- only to start screaming a moment later when abruptly, tendrils shoot out of the throne, grabbing you by your limbs. You get tossed and turned, and you lose your “breath” when you’re yanked into it, your back hitting the throne with such a force that you cry out. You shriek as the black tentacles coil tighter around you, fighting to get out of the seat. To your horror, you realize the familiarity of the black appendages holding you down, reminding you of something… Someone else. Your efforts in struggling doubles, shutting your eyes as you pulled against the tight grasps, managing to stand up a bit- screaming again when a pair of bony hands clamp down on your wrists, jerking you back.

You immediately open your eyes. The castle’s gone, and you’re back in that void you’ve become so familiar with- with the same entity that had been haunting your nights. He holds you to him, his head next to yours, watching you with one electric blue orb. His grin is sharp and wide, so close to your face as you cry- he’s tightened his grip on you, and it’s starting to hurt.

“You can’t run from me anymore, (Y/n).” His voice spreads throughout the void and booms in your head, full of mania. “You can’t run away from your Nightmare.”

“No! No- let me go, please!” You shout and sob, but no one else hears you. He only laughs in your face and you start to drown in his black sludge as it fills the void. It rises with an alarming rate, coming from your legs up to your chest and neck, finally reaching your face. It covers you and spills into your mouth, and you start to choke-

…

You gasp as you shoot straight into sitting position, throwing your blanket off the bed. You pant and gasp for air, your eyes wide with fright as you look around the room frantically. You could feel beads of sweat rolling down your temples, the damp cloth sticking to your back.

… That’s new.

Your frantic breathing eventually turns quiet, and you take a deep breath, swallowing thick saliva.

Another nightmare.

But this one felt… Different. It was always somewhere dark where the nightmarish entity chased after you, and it certainly wasn’t the first time he’s caught you- but you’ve never seen that castle before. It sounds silly considering it was a dream, but usually, you were running on that vast plain of darkness that threatened to swallow you whole, or someplace with abstract shapes where he’d play “Hide and Seek” with you. You’ve never been somewhere with clear-cut features.

And you’ve never had a moment of calm before your nightmare. It always started quickly- as soon as you were there, the figure would make himself apparent to you, and his hunt would begin.

This… This was something new.

Tick… Tick… Tick…

But still, it was another nightmare.

You look to your side, to the clock hanging on the wall of the room. 3 AM. You could still go back to sleep. You felt groggy, sluggish, tired- and afraid. So, so afraid. But now that you’re awake, knowing it was just another nightmare, you feel your nerves settling, feeling the cool air on your skin.

You spend some time just gathering yourself. You breathe long and deep, pressing your palms to your face, giving yourself a moment.

It’s ok. It’s just a nightmare. You’re ok, (Y/n).

You gave out a loud exhale, emptying your chest of air before breathing again, staring at your room. It’s quiet, the air only filled with the sound of your ticking clock. Your eyes wander to your window, hanging ajar. The curtains flew gently in the wind, and as you look longer at it you think the moon must be full because it lit up your floor a soft blue. You enjoy that your room wasn’t pitch black- something that’d remind you of the void in your mind. You smile, yawning, filling your lungs with cool, soothing air, feeling drowsiness creep back into you. You blink your eyes tiredly, deciding to go back to sleep.

… But then… You see something moving in the shadows.

Your eyes move from your window to the floor, where the shadow of your curtains moved along the wind.

… There’s something else that peeked out of the corners of your room, slowly swaying.

A shadow of one lone tendril, waving in the air. Your breath gets stuck in your throat, and your eyes widen. Your mouth turns dry as your eyes trail up to the tentacle casting the twisting and writhing shadow on the floor, glistening under the moonlight.

You follow along the tentacle, and you see more, moving in similar patterns, curling and uncurling as if they were restless.

Time seemed to stop when you see a grin in the shadow, one blue orb glowing above it, slightly lidded.

… No.

His eyesocket widens and the orb glows brighter when you make eye contact. He takes a step out of the shadows, and you see him- A skeleton with a jacket and shorts, glistening and drenched in what looks like black sludge, taking slow step after slow step closer to you.

… No no no!

This can’t be happening! You’re still dreaming, it’s not real!

“Oh, but my dear…” He speaks, his grin turning malicious, apparent that he’s enjoying the look of terror that must be on your face. “This isn’t a dream…”

“I am your Nightmare.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, clamming up once you’ve heard him speak. But as he gets closer and closer, whatever spell you were in breaks and you quickly turn your body away, jumping off your bed and heading for the door- when black tentacles grab at your arm and legs. You squeal and kick as you’re picked clean off the ground, the slimy members coiling around tightly until you couldn’t move more than a jerk here and there. You’re abruptly pulled towards him, pressed chest to chest, feeling the inky black substance cover your skin.

Your breathing turns rapid and shallow, realizing you can smell him. He smells damp and musty, like something old and forbidden. Of untouched crypts, of rain on hot tarmac. He smelled bad, and not in the sense that he smelled bad- He smelled wrong, like a bad memory tugging on your mind, of something bad that’s about to come.

In all your nightmares not once have you smelled him.

This is real.

Your nightmares had always felt scarily real, but when you feel his tentacles now, on your arms and legs, feeling its slime rubbing off of you and soaking you… Your heart feels like it’d jumped when you come to the terrifying realization that this is real.

He is real.

You immediately open your mouth to scream, but just as quickly, a tentacle wraps around your head and covers your mouth. The skeleton laughs darkly as you feel another tendril slowly glide around your neck, staring at him with wide eyes.

His blue eye lights up with glee as he sees you fight against his tentacles, your sounds of struggle muffled by them as it felt like more and more of his tentacles kept wrapping around you. His sludge covers up every surface of your body until you’re completely drenched in it, save your eyes.

His manic grin takes up all your attention as a skeletal hand cups your face, almost tenderly so, surprising you. His sockets lid while his smile starts to look drunk, the blue light of his eye dilating. “No more running away, (Y/n)…” He murmurs, eyelight watching you unwaveringly.

The expression on his face turns intense as he seems to lose solidity, losing his form and sinking into the ground, taking you with him.

“I’ve caught you.” He growls, “ And you’re mine.”

He sinks into a puddle in your room, as more of your screams are muffled, your tears pooling in your eyes as you try desperately to escape. One hand manages to reach out of his muck before he grabs it. He pulls you down with him until you’re completely engulfed by his slime, disappearing into the floor, leaving no trace behind.

…

Tick… Tick… Tick…

The clock in your room continues to run, the curtains gently swaying in the wind. Your room is empty with only a messy bed while moonlight filters into the room… It’s as if you weren’t even there.

Your nightmare begins.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 42: Sasha

Tim’s going to wear a hole in the floor of Rosie’s office if he’s not careful, Sasha thinks, pacing back and forth like this. Rosie watches him with undisguised interest. Martin watches too, his face pinched with concern and arms folded tightly over his chest, although Sasha doesn’t know if he’s more worried about Tim or Jon or both. She probably could Know, with a little effort, but she decides it doesn’t matter right then. She also doesn’t want to pry into her friends’ heads like that.

God, she wants a shower. She feels like she’s covered in some sort of thin, viscous oil, soaking into her skin and making her itch all over. Like just being in proximity to Elias Bouchard makes her dirty.

The worst of it is, he’s not wrong, exactly. Not about her, anyway.

She wonders if he regrets choosing Jon now. He’ll never admit it out loud, of course, but if it’s true that the only reason he chose Jon was because Jon was already marked by the Web, he must be looking at the four of them and wondering if she would have collected more marks faster had she been in charge.

You’re like Gertrude, she thinks idly, staring at the closed door between Rosie’s office and Elias’. She never hesitated to use the people around her, even the ones she cared about, if it served her purpose…

She blinks. Where did that come from?

She turns her attention from the door to Tim, his shoes squeaking on the floor as he turns at the end of his nineteenth cross of the office. Resolutely shutting the Eye out—which is a lot harder than it is anywhere else, and she wonders if that’s because the Head’s office is the locus of its power or just because she’s a little frayed right now—she studies his face and tries to decide if he’s angry or upset or some combination of the two. He definitely looks like he’s close to tears, but she can’t tell if it’s from frustration or from rage…or maybe guilt.

There’s guilt mingled with the worry in Martin’s eyes, too, and Sasha doesn’t need the Beholder to know why. I thought I heard you telling Jon you…smote it. Probably what Martin actually said was Jon Prime smote it and Elias, thankfully, didn’t hear properly or wasn’t paying enough attention. Or he can’t actually hear, per se, he just reads the lips of those around him and pieces it together from there. After all, he has Jonah Magnus’ eyes, not his ears or his tongue.

Still. They’ve got to be more careful.

Tim is passing the door for the twentieth time when it opens and Jon steps out, shutting it behind him with a tad unnecessary force. He looks tired and upset and slightly cranky—in fact, he looks exactly like he did the first few weeks in the Archives, when he was trying to be professional and irritated, or pretending to be irritated, at everything Martin did. Martin and Tim both start towards him, then stop, probably out of deference to Rosie’s presence.

“Let’s go,” he says shortly. “We have work to do.”

The other three fall into step behind him, like something of an honor guard. Fortunately, the only person they encounter on the way down to the Archives is Manal, who offers them a tentative smile as they pass and seems relieved when Martin, at least, automatically returns it. They reach the Archives without a word being spoken and cluster around the assistants’ desks, all of them seemingly at a loss for words.

Tim finally breaks the silence. “Now what?”

Jon looks down at his feet. Sasha thinks he’s embarrassed or ashamed or something until he says softly, “I hate to ask, but could one of you run home and get me some shoes?”

Sasha glances down, startled. She’s not sure how it didn’t occur to her that Jon is barefoot, but he doesn’t even have a pair of socks shielding his feet from the ground. Walking around the Institute is probably only possible because of the diligence of the cleaning crew, but no way will he be able to make it home if Tim didn’t drive today, unless the other two carry him. And his feet must be cold.

Martin and Tim exchange looks. Sasha doesn’t have to be able to read minds to know that neither of them really wants to be away from Jon right now. Rather than force either of them into martyrdom, she says, “If one of you will lend me your keys, I’ll do it.”

The surprise on Tim and Martin’s faces is only equaled by the sheer gratitude on Jon’s, which makes Sasha realize that I hate to ask didn’t mean I hate to impose but rather I don’t want either one of you out of my sight right now. Instead of commenting on it, she just holds out her hand.

Martin recovers first, reaches under his shirt, and pulls out a well-worn lanyard that was probably once a vibrant neon rainbow with a key on the end. He lays it in her hand. “Thanks, Sash.”

“Sure.” Sasha loops the lanyard around her hand and smiles. “Be right back.”

The sun is making a pathetic attempt to come out, but for the most part, it’s the same as it’s been all day. There aren’t many people about, which is probably a good thing, because Sasha uses the opportunity to test the range of her Knowing ability—seeing how far away from someone she can be and still pluck a secret from their minds. It’s extremely invasive, which Martin will probably ream her out for when he finds out, and it’s feeding into the Eye, which Tim will probably ream her out for, and honestly both of them should. But she does it anyway. Partly because she’s hoping that if she does it, she won’t have so much of an urge to read her friends’ minds—it seems ruder to steal from them than from strangers, and she knows that’s not a good sign—but mostly because it keeps her mind off of thinking too hard about Jon’s current state, or what Elias might have said to him when they weren’t there, or the implications of Martin still wearing a single key around his neck the way he probably did when he was a small child left to fend for himself by a father who cared too much and a mother who didn’t care at all.

Despite the fact that she’s still wearing kitten heels and a pencil skirt, she manages to get to the house, retrieve a pair of shoes from Jon’s room, and get back to the Archives in about forty-five minutes. She enters to find Jon sitting on the edge of Martin’s desk, cradling a steaming mug of tea; Tim sits backwards in his chair, arms folded and chin resting on them, while Martin sits more or less normally. They’re talking quietly, but break off and look up when Sasha comes in.

“Hope these are actually yours,” Sasha says, handing Jon the pair of trainers she brought and a pair of socks. “Everything in the closet looked too small for them. And here’s your key back, Martin.”

“Thanks.” Martin slips the lanyard around his neck and tucks it under his sweater again.

“Martin and Tim have just been catching me up on your research for the last two weeks,” Jon tells her, setting down his mug and contorting to put on the socks. “I—I am sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Not like you asked to get kidnapped,” Sasha points out. “And it’s not like you haven’t made sure we know our jobs.”

Jon snorts. “Tell that to Elias. He seems to think you need…guidance.”

Tim’s eyes spark. “He said that, did he?”

Sasha purses her lips in thought for a moment. There’s a lot they need to discuss, but they’ll never be able to be sure, now, that they aren’t being watched. She knows it takes effort for Elias to actually see what’s going on in the Archives, and she’s pretty sure that up until now he’s mostly focused on Jon and ignored the other three, but she doubts that’s the case any longer. Unless they can time their talks with his schedule, to be sure he doesn’t have the attention to spare them…

Curiosity, a desire to experiment, overcomes caution for a minute, and she casts her mind up into the Institute, reaching for that buzzing feeling she gets when there’s a secret to be known. And she aims it at Elias’ office. She doesn’t expect it to work, not really, but—

Ah.

Sasha gasps. Her knees buckle with the sudden rush of energy leaving her, and she catches herself on the edge of the desk. Tim and Martin both jump to their feet, but she waves them off. “Fine. I’m fine.”

She had it. Just for a second, a momentary brush, a quick surface skim, withdrawn hastily before his attention can be caught and focused, but she actually did it. She’s amazed at her own audacity and astonished at her good luck…and aware that, while she still has to be wary of the information she just obtained, there’s a good chance it’s accurate.

“Tunnels?” she suggests, pointing at the trapdoor. They may not have time for a longer discussion.

Thankfully, the boys don’t object or question her. Jon finishes tying his shoes and slides off the desk, and the four of them hasten down the steps to the tunnels. Sasha gets the usual queer, dizzy feeling of being cut off from the Eye—worse than usual, but then, she is pushing the boundaries of her abilities—but it’s a relief for once, because it does at least mean Elias isn’t watching them.

At the foot of the steps, she stops and turns to look back at the others. “Sorry for being so abrupt, but we didn’t have much time. I figured you could get their statement down here without Elias overhearing, and…we can talk.”

“Probably wise,” Jon admits. “Are you okay?”

“Fine. Bit tired.” Sasha isn’t about to admit that she needs Tim and Martin’s statement, probably as much as Jon does. Not yet. “Come on, let’s see if the Primes are awake.”

She leads them to the room the Primes usually stay in and knocks on the door. “It’s us. Are you decent?”

“Come in,” Jon Prime’s voice calls back.

Sasha pushes the door open. They’ve obviously been having breakfast, which Sasha almost feels guilty for interrupting, but it does appear they’re almost done. Jon Prime looks wary. “Is everything all right?”

“Yep. Look what the cat dragged in.” Unable to hold back a grin, Sasha steps into the room and out of the way, exposing Jon.

Jon Prime makes a noise somewhere between surprise and relief. In an instant, he’s up and wrapping Jon in a hug. Jon looks momentarily startled, then hugs him back.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t—I couldn’t See you.” Jon Prime takes a half-step back and studies Jon anxiously. “Are you—never mind, I know how you’ll answer that. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Jon answers. “On edge. Scared to hell and gone. You know, the usual.” He pauses. “But glad to be back.”

At the sound of Jon’s voice, Martin Prime smiles, looking relieved, and gets to his feet. Jon’s a little more hesitant to accept his hug, to Sasha’s eyes, but he does anyway. “When did you get back?”

“Oh—an hour ago? Hour and a half?” Jon shrugs. “Two at most. Michael—well, not Michael anymore. Michael tried to kill me but couldn’t…I’m sure you know that story.”

“Intimately,” Jon Prime confirms. “So Helen took over, did she?”

“Yes. Brought me back to the Archives.” Jon sighs heavily. “I had maybe five minutes of peace to enjoy being home and—and safe before Elias called us up to his office.”

Martin Prime’s smile melts immediately. “What did he want?”

“To be a smug bastard,” Tim says.

Jon Prime looks from one to the other. “Why don’t you explain?”

“No need.” Sasha leans over and reaches into Jon’s pocket. Before he can do more than flinch, she pulls out her tape recorder and waves it at them with a smirk. “Say hello to my little friend.”

“What—how did you—” Jon stares at it.

“I still had it on hand from lunch. Didn’t end up using it, the guy didn’t have anything helpful, he just wanted an excuse to flirt, so I knew there was nothing on it. I figured if Elias talked to anyone alone, it would be you, so I slipped it in your pocket just before we went in. Just, you know, in case we needed evidence later. Figured if it was important, whatever’s behind these things would switch it on.” Sasha peers through the window at the tape. “Looks like I was right.”

“You, Sasha James, are positively devious.” Tim’s slight frown indicates he’s not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Sasha starts the tape rewinding. “While we wait for this to spool back, Jon, do you want to try and get their statement about Friday? You know, so Elias doesn’t find out about these two?”

Martin Prime tilts his head to one side, then turns and hesitantly reaches out with a foot, kicking something hard and plastic on the floor. “I think that’s a yes.”

Sure enough, a battered tape recorder sits and waits. Jon sighs and nods. “Can’t hurt, I suppose.”

They settle down in a lopsided circle, and Jon Prime slides the tape recorder over so it sits between Jon, Tim, and Martin. Jon takes a deep breath. “Statement of Martin Blackwood and Tim Stoker, Archival assistants at the Magnus Institute, regarding the thing that was not Diana Caxton. Recorded direct from subjects—” He hesitates.

Sasha realizes Jon has probably lost track of time. Softly, Martin says, “Seventh of March, 2017.”

“Statement begins.” Jon takes Martin’s hand on one side and Tim’s on the other. “Whenever you think you’re ready.”

It’s so much more than the bare-bones description they gave her first thing that morning, and Sasha listens intently, her own recorder forgotten. Martin’s remembered fear—for himself, for Tim, for the two students—is an almost tangible thing, like hot liquid running down her throat, filling her. When Tim describes Jon Prime overpowering the Not-Diana, it suddenly gets so much more intense. Her whole body thrums with energy.

It’s intoxicating.

“Statement ends,” Jon says, once Tim falls silent. He squeezes their hands tightly, seemingly without being aware he’s doing it. “God.”

“Yeah,” Martin agrees. “It was—it was a lot.”

“I’m impressed you managed to not tell Elias about any of that when he asked,” Jon mutters.

“Well, I mean, I didn’t lie. Not really. I did have my eyes closed the whole time, so it’s not like I saw any of that.” Martin cocks his head at Tim. “And we didn’t really talk about it over the weekend or anything.”

“I spent most of it passed out,” Tim tells Jon. “All that…it took a lot out of me. We ended up listening to one of the tapes—uh, it was Mr. Skinner’s statement, about the forest in Wales, actually.”

“I suppose it was inevitable,” Jon Prime murmurs. “I am sorry, Tim. I didn’t—I’ve never been around anyone else with Beholding powers, not really, so I had no idea how me using them would affect any of you.”

“It didn’t affect Martin,” Tim points out. “It’s just because mine relies on being able to see the marks and the—I guess it’s the power of the fears, too. There was just so much energy being drawn on, and I was so strung out I couldn’t stop it. Honestly, I don’t normally—we’re cut off from the Eye down here, I didn’t think my abilities would work.”

“I should have warned you that they do. Just…not always as well. They’re a bit easier to control, I suppose.” Jon Prime runs a hand through his hair. “Are you all right now?”

“Yeah,” Tim says softly, but he’s looking at Jon, not at Jon Prime, and Sasha knows with a surety that has nothing to do with the Beholder that he can only say that because Jon’s back. The expression on Martin’s face says the same. He clears his throat and adds, “Like I said, I spent most of the weekend sleeping. We took it easy on Sunday.”

Martin nods. “We were mostly okay today. Little bit of a headache when Helen brought Jon back, but that wasn’t so bad, really. Not…you know, not like actually being in those corridors.”

Jon shudders. “God, that was…”

Martin Prime hums in agreement. “Trust me, not being able to see it doesn’t make it that much better.”

Jon Prime wraps his arm around Martin Prime’s shoulder; Martin Prime responds in kind, and the two lean into each other, as if they know they’re going to need the strength from one another in a moment. “Sasha, has that tape rewound all the way yet?”

Sasha starts. She’s honestly forgotten about it, but glancing down, she sees that all the buttons are popped out. “Oh! Yes, it’s—it’s ready. Are you?”

“As we’ll ever be, I suppose.”

Sasha pushes the PLAY button and slides the recorder to the middle of the circle, and their boss’s smooth, oily voice oozes into the room. As the conversation continues, she watches the Primes’ faces. Jon Prime goes steadily more ashen, while Martin Prime’s goes from red to purple to nearly black. Tim and Martin are largely silent, but when they get to the part none of them were in the office for, all the color drains out of Martin’s face and Tim covers his mouth with his free hand and turns away.

The tape clicks off. There’s a moment of silence before Martin Prime chokes out, “That bastard.”

“God,” Jon Prime whispers. “I never—I didn’t—” He closes his eyes and turns his head, half-burying his face in Martin Prime’s chest. The simple movement seems to drain a lot of the rage out of Martin Prime; the color recedes in a blotchy fashion from his cheeks, and he wraps both arms around Jon Prime, cradling him protectively. It almost makes Sasha smile—Jon Prime is objectively one of the most powerful beings in the world, and Martin Prime still feels like he needs to protect him, or even like he can. Then again, from the way Jon Prime curls into him, it’s pretty clear that Jon Prime feels that way, too. “He never directly threatened any of you. Not to me. I-I don’t think he—when he told me to consider people things to be used, it wasn’t to my face. It never occurred to me that he might have hurt you to get me to comply.”

“Jon, why do you think he dangled me as bait in front of Peter Lukas?” Martin Prime sounds bitter and angry, but he softens when Jon Prime flinches against him. “Of course he knew you cared. It’s why he told you not to bring Tim to the Unknowing, because he knew that would spur both of you into letting Tim go, and he could play on your guilt over whatever happened after. Everything he did, at every turn, was directly targeted at getting you to step up and get marked, because he knew you would do anything to save us.” He sighs heavily. “I just—never expected to hear him say it.”

Tim snorted. “I should have just shot him when I had the chance.”

“No,” Sasha and Jon Prime say in unison, Jon Prime’s head jerking off Martin Prime’s shoulder, eyes wide with fear.

“You believe him, then?” Jon says quietly. “He really is—killing him will kill all of us, too?”

“I still can’t Know that,” Jon Prime admits. “But—it’s not a risk I would want to take. Not until—I mean, we have a plan. It just…needs work. I think. But I’m still not sure if killing him would actually trigger some sort of supernatural dead-man switch.”

Sasha shifts a bit. The urge to keep her secrets is still strong—but Elias’ taunt rings in her ears, and she knows she has to push past that. She can’t be what he expects her to be. What he groomed her to be, in a sense.

“Actually,” she says, “according to my research, it won’t.”

Five heads snap around to look at her in surprise. Martin Prime is the one to finally speak. “What do you mean?”

Sasha smiles mischievously. Now that she’s said the first part, the idea of sharing the rest of it seems…positively gleeful. Because in a way, it’s spilling a secret Jonah Magnus thought could never be known. “I’ve been looking in to the heads of the Institute, you know that. Trying to figure out how he picked his successors, what the criteria were for it, that sort of thing. And the one that bothered me most was Thomas Fitzwalter, the fourth Head. He was only in charge for a few months—he became head of the Institute in September of 1940, then was killed in a bomb attack in March of 1941. It always struck me as odd that the Eye didn’t warn him about the bomb.”

“It can’t really see the future,” Jon Prime says, but he sounds a bit uncertain.

“No, I know that, but then I learned something else interesting. The previous head of the Institute, Virgil Warrington, was found dead in his office, by Fitzwalter, who just sort of assumed the position of Head because nobody else really wanted it at that time.” Sasha runs a finger over the edge of her tape recorder. “It took me a while to find the details. I mean, it was the middle of the Blitz, there was a lot going on, and obviously it was a lot easier to bury details and destroy records back then than it is now. But—well, I actually got Basira and Daisy involved. I didn’t tell them why, obviously, but I’d mentioned to Basira what I was looking into, and it turns out she really likes that sort of stuff. And since she’s not police anymore, I reckon she needed a project, something to focus on to keep from going mad. Anyway, point is, they were able to find a police report that escaped destruction, deliberate or otherwise, and it turns out Warrington didn’t die of heart failure or a stroke or anything. I mean, it was probably what they told people, he was quite elderly, but…”

“But?” Jon prompts.

Sasha’s grin broadens. “He was murdered. Shot, actually. According to the report, it was a Luger P308, which was a primarily German model, so the official unofficial report is that he was probably killed by a fifth column agent. But there was never any evidence, any proof. Even the type of gun used—they didn’t exactly do ballistics reports at the time, they would have just said he was shot with some kind of pistol. The information on the exact model came from Thomas Fitzwalter.”

“So you think—” Tim begins.

“I think he killed Virgil Warrington. Who knows, maybe he was a German spy. Maybe he killed Warrington because the Germans had decided that the knowledge in the Institute was too dangerous to be allowed, or because Fitzwalter figured out that Warrington could read minds, or maybe Warrington tried to blackmail him knowing Fitzwalter was a spy and Fitzwalter killed him to keep him from talking.” Sasha’s mind is racing, and she’s getting more and more excited as she talks. “Or Fitzwalter was exactly who he seemed to be and just got frustrated and angry with Warrington, or the whole situation. It’s probably telling that Thomas Fitzwalter, before he became the Head, was actually an Archival assistant.”

“Which means he was trapped, too,” Martin says, realization dawning in his eyes.

“Mm-hmm. But anyway, my theory is that Fitzwalter killed Warrington, and since he was the only one around, Jonah Magnus’ eyes…somehow got transferred into Fitzwalter’s head. I don’t know how that works.” Sasha looks quizzically at Jon Prime.

“I don’t know, either, and I have no desire to,” Jon Prime says, running a hand over his eyes. “But—that’s actually not a bad theory. And you think that’s why he didn’t last long?”

Sasha nods. “Yes. I think Fitzwalter wasn’t his choice for a successor, Richard Mendelson was, but Fitzwalter was there when he died, so the transfer was automatic. And for whatever reason, he couldn’t just do the transfer from there to Mendelson. Maybe he just wanted it to look natural. Which means he probably did know the bomb was about to hit, and he deliberately held back from going into a shelter.”

Tim looks like he’s about to be sick. “So if I had shot him…”

“He’d have claimed one of us as his new body. Don’t know which. I don’t know if he can direct it with that few people in the room or if it’s just whoever is nearest or what.” Sasha digs her fingernails into her palms to keep herself grounded. Trying to pluck that from their boss’s brain probably won’t work, and it will be far too risky anyway. It might overload her own brain to the point of killing her, and the surge of power might hurt the others, too. But oh, she almost hurts with the desire to try.

“But nobody else would have died.”

“I doubt that,” Martin Prime says. There’s still residual anger in his voice. “If you’re right, then no, he’s not a literal dead-man switch. I’ve kind of had my doubts about that anyway, ever since Jon mentioned that Archival assistants can leave if the Archivist dies. Especially since staff outside the Archives can quit. Nobody is actually bound to the Institute. Most of the staff can come and go as they please, and the Archival assistants are bound to the Archivist, or maybe to the Archives. Doesn’t quite matter, they’re technically the same thing. But killing Elias probably wouldn’t cause a—a mass extinction event or anything. Especially if Fitzwalter murdering Warrington didn’t wipe out the whole Institute staff in one go.” He takes a deep breath. “But you really think Jonah Magnus would have let the rest of you live? Especially if he gets the memories of whichever body he inhabits? You’d all know too much. Plans or no plans, you’d have to die.”

Jon Prime inhales sharply and covers his mouth with one hand. “Oh, God.”

Jon shakes his head firmly. “No. Absolutely not. Not happening. I won’t let it.”

“It won’t,” Martin assures him. His face is paper-white, every freckle and scar in stark relief, but his voice is firm. “Because we’re not going to test this theory, right, Sasha?”

Sasha flinches, but honestly, she’s glad Martin knows her well enough to call her out on it. “I…might need some redirection if I start getting antsy, but no. No testing it. Maybe once he’s dead we can find out for sure.”

“Can you kill him, though?” Tim asks. “Without…you know, getting possessed?”

“I—I think so. It’s—we have to kill Jonah Magnus as well as Elias Bouchard. Or at least Elias Bouchard’s body,” Jon Prime adds, his voice soft and a little ragged. He leans more into Martin Prime, who gathers him somehow even closer and rests his chin on the top of his head. “I don’t know how much of the original Elias is left, if anything. I think destroying his eyes ought to do it.”

“So, what, stab him with a couple screwdrivers through the eyeballs, Jonah Magnus dies and Elias Bouchard is free?” Tim swallows. “I can try that.”

“He won’t let you get close enough to do that,” Jon Prime says. “Even if you all master the ability to hide things from him completely, he’ll never let you within arm’s length. The gun would have been your best bet, but you’d have had to shoot both eyes out instantly.”

Tim shakes his head. “I’m not nearly that good of a shot.”

Jon worries at his lower lip. “I think we need help with that. W-with learning to hide things from him, I mean. We’re trying, and I think we put him off a bit, but…the more we learn, the more I’m worried we’re going to let something slip and the whole thing will be up. I-if he finds out about the two of you…”

“The whole thing goes awry,” Jon Prime completes.

“I’m more worried about what he might do to the two of you. I know you can handle yourself,” Jon adds quickly, “but if he catches you off-guard, you might not have a chance. O-or if he…I don’t know, floods the tunnels with gas or something. I just—I don’t want anyone else to get hurt.”

He says this last bit so softly that it probably wouldn’t be audible at all if the tunnels didn’t echo. From the look he gives Tim and Martin, Sasha is willing to bet that he’s thinking about how he would feel if either of them got hurt because of him, and how much worse it would be for one of the Primes to lose the other now.

For just a moment, Sasha wonders what it’s like to feel that way about someone else. She knows what it’s like to care, of course, she’s fond of Jon and Martin and Tim, and the Primes. She’s beginning to rather like Basira as well. And there’s her Uncle Wade, who was the one constant in her life for years and for whom she’d do just about anything. But the kind of bond the Primes have, or that it’s becoming increasingly clear her boys have, is beyond her. She’s long over the oh my God do people really feel like this attitude she took towards sappy love stories in her secondary-school days, she understands the concept of romance, but she’s also long ago realized that it’s not something she’s ever going to experience herself. And, honestly, she doesn’t feel like she’s missing anything. Usually.

But right now…right now she almost wishes she could experience that. She’s not sure how much of it is clinical curiosity and how much of it is an actual desire for herself. It doesn’t change the fact that she almost wants, just once, to look at someone the way Martin is looking at Jon right now and know what that feels like.

“I’ll do my best,” Jon Prime says, and it actually takes Sasha a second to remember what they’re talking about. “It’s mostly instinct, though, so I can’t make any promises. But I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I can ask. Anything to—” Jon breaks off and tightens his hands around Tim and Martin’s. “Anything we can do.”

“Not right now,” Sasha says, looking around the room. “I don’t think any of you are up for it right now. You all look knackered, especially you, Jon.”

“Yes, but I don’t know if we can risk coming down here again any time soon. He’s going to be watching us for a while, I’m sure.” Jon sighs. “He probably knows we’re down here now.”

“No, we’re safe. He had to take a phone call from Peter Lukas and that had his attention,” Sasha tells him. “If we knew his schedule, we could work around it. I bet it’s all in the computer.”

Martin Prime frowns in Sasha’s direction. “The phone call wouldn’t have been. How did you—Sasha. You didn’t.”

“I just wanted to see if I could,” Sasha says, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks. “I didn’t think it would actually work. I mean, I was sort of practicing on the walk when I went to get Jon’s shoes, to see how far away from someone I had to be in order to get their secrets, and Elias’ office is kind of at the edge of my range, plus there are so many walls in the way—”

“Sasha.” Jon sounds upset, almost scared.

“I know. I shouldn’t have done any of that, but—” Sasha sighs. “It’s like I told Tim and Martin earlier. It’s happening more and more without me trying, and it’s harder and harder for me to stop it.”

“God, was that only today?” Martin murmurs. “Feels like forever ago.”

Martin Prime’s mouth flattens into a thin line, but it’s Jon Prime who speaks. “Trust me when I say that at this point, you can stop it. You just have to want to. It’s an addiction, Sasha, just like any other kind, but that’s only for now. The more you lean into it, the more it will progress beyond that and into an actual, literal need. And when you get to that point, you won’t be able to stop. And it won’t be easy to subsist on what’s…acceptable. I-I have a hard time living on nothing but old statements.”

Sasha squirms a bit guiltily. Jon takes a deep, careful breath. “Sasha, if you promise you’re just going to look in the system—”

“I promise.” Sasha means it, with every fiber of her being.

“Then…okay. I think you’re right. I don’t know that I’m up to much right now.” Jon looks down at his lap. “I got a statement off of Michael before—well, before—and then this on top of it…I’m a bit overwhelmed. And I could use a good night’s sleep.” He sighs heavily. “Besides, we’ve got to try and dig up Gertrude’s notes. Anything she had going about the Unknowing. I-it’s not that…I know we know what you’ve told us, but we have to—”

“No, I understand,” Jon Prime assures him. “You might start with her laptop. It’s hidden in your office. You’ll know where to look, I think.”

Jon looks up, then slowly smiles. “I think I have an idea.” The smile droops slightly, and he adds, “But that can wait for tomorrow. Today, I think we—we call it a day early. Go get a drink or something. After all, what’s Elias going to do—fire us?”

“That sounds good,” Martin says. “Will you two be all right?”

“We’ll be fine. We’ll see what we can unearth that might be helpful for you tonight,” Jon Prime says. “Go. Get some rest. You deserve it.”

“Be careful,” Martin Prime says.

He’s still looking in Sasha’s direction, more than at any of the others. And as she pushes herself up from the floor, Sasha finds that she can’t meet his eyes, even if he can’t see the look in hers. She knows his caution is meant more for her than the others. They’re going to keep each other from falling too far, and they’ll try to help her, but in the end, they’re weaving a safety net and she has a knife up her sleeve. It wouldn’t take much effort for her to surreptitiously cut the fibers and fall through.

About the only thing stopping her right now is the knowledge that, if she does that, they’ll assume they just didn’t weave the net tightly enough and it’s their fault. The trouble is that, deep down, she’s pretty sure that eventually she’ll get to the point where the lure of the pit is stronger than the need to make sure her friends don’t blame themselves. She needs something a little bit stronger than a net to keep her grounded to humanity.

She wonders what Basira is up to right now.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 15: Marry Me

(from ‘The Winter and The Crown’)

…in which they get married.

Warning: SMUT

Word count: 5k

AU: queen!y/n, commander!harry

Description: Y/N and Harry set off on a new adventure to find ‘the cure’ for an ancient curse, meanwhile, the enemies are plotting to take her kingdom.

Wattpad link (Reyna as Peach | Y/N)

A/N: Mary explains everything pretty clearly in the last scene. I hope it answers all of your questions :)

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A letter from Calanthe arrived the day after the dance. Y/N opened it in the presence of Harry, Lance and Jo.

“What does she want?” Jo asked impatiently while Y/N read it at her desk.

“Why are you here?” Lance asked Jo. He was standing by the door with his sword drawn and rested by his side. He’d been more guarded since last night as was she and everyone else in the castle.

“Why can’t I be here? Is it because of my sex?” Jo retorted, for a second forgetting that Lance was a king. Y/N could not blame her. It must have been devastating for Jo to be the last of them to find out about Mary’s betrayal.

“No,” Harry told Jo as he leaned forward in his chair with his hands together and elbows on his knees. “It’s because you’re a maid.”

Jo shot him a pointed look. “I’m Her Majesty’s Lady-in-waiting.”

“A maid,” Lance chimed in.

Jo flicked her gaze between the two of them. “Are you two best friends now or do you just collectively hate me?”

Harry and Lance exchanged looks before turning back to Jo. “You really want us to answer that?” Lance jokingly asked.

“She’s here because I trust her,” Y/N said, rising behind her desk. Jo made a face at Lance, and he burst out laughing.

“What does she want?” Harry asked Y/N.

Y/N folded the letter and put it aside as she leaned against the desk, arms crossed. “She wants the witch to be returned to Theros.”

As expected, Jo was the most horrified at this news. The real reason Y/N had asked for Jo’s attendance was that she cared about Jo and would never want to make a decision that would hurt her friend.

“Let’s do that,” Harry said.

“No!” Jo and Lance objected at the same time.

Harry froze and blinked blankly at them. Y/N felt bad that he didn’t know the whole story. She couldn’t figure out how to let him in without having him carry all her heavy burdens. Harry would always do too much for her; she didn’t have the heart to drag him deeper into this.

Lance cleared his throat. “We need her. She may have insider information.”

“I don’t trust her. She set Y/N up for death,” Harry said, his face twisted with anger.

“Mary knew the forest wouldn’t harm Y/N,” Lance calmly told Harry while his eyes stayed fixed on Y/N. He knew no matter what they all said, it was up to her to decide Mary’s fate.

“I don’t want her to have Mary,” Y/N said.

Jo clutched her chest in relief. Lance sighed and looked over to Harry, who seemed the most confused.

Y/N took a deep breath. “Calanthe says she’ll be at the border in two days, and she wants me to be the person who brings her the witch.”

“She doesn’t only want the witch,” Harry said through clenched teeth. “It’s clearly a trap.”

“Don’t go, Y/N,” Jo pleaded, her face pale with fright.

Lance said nothing; the look he was giving Y/N had conveyed every single one of his thoughts. Y/N studied each of the three faces in front of her, and her heart stung a little. These people all knew what it was like to lose her. She didn’t want to put them through it again. However, she had to be pragmatic at this point and not let her feelings get in the way. Whatever was best for her kingdom would be best for her, even though it felt the complete opposite.

“I’ll go without Mary,” Y/N said, not making eye contact with anyone. “Just me alone.”

“That’s suicide,” Lance broke his silence.

“I have to agree with the King,” Harry mumbled. It sounded as though he was in pain to say that.

“Maybe one of you should go with her,” Jo told the men.

Y/N shook her head. “She only wants me and the witch. I’ll go alone.”

“She’ll be waiting for you with her army and they’ll take your head, Y/N,” Lance snapped, his grey eyes piercing at her.

Y/N looked up and met Harry’s intense gaze begging her not to do this.

“Maybe I can have an escort,” she sighed, “but Calanthe specifically says in this letter that my betrothed cannot be there with me.”

Harry and Lance exchanged looks. Though neither of them said anything, Y/N knew exactly what was on their minds. She hated that they were put in a situation where it only benefited her.

“She wants to negotiate now?” Jo asked, her voice fragile. Y/N assumed she was scared for both Y/N and Mary.

“Apparently, she wants to talk. And she says that she’ll be there alone.”

“And you trust her?” Harry asked, raising both eyebrows as he stood up straight. “You want to rely on the promise of the woman, who’s only life goal is to ruin your life and make you pay for your father’s mistakes?”

“I don’t trust her,” Y/N said. “I trust myself. I know she and the Monks don’t want me dead. At least not before the battle. She’s causing all this chaos to trigger us to strike. She sets us up, blames us for killing George Wallace and is most likely going to use that as an excuse to invade the North. And she’s ready. I know she is. But so are we. I just want to hear what she has to say. Two can play this game. And I’m not afraid of anyone. Certainly not Calanthe.”

“It’s up to you,” Lance sighed. “We can only tell you what we think is best, but we can’t tell you what to do.”

Y/N frowned. “I still want your support.”

“You have our support, Peach,” Harry said though he didn’t sound so confident. That was good enough for her. She would not be able to go through with it without his approval. Despite what he might think, his feelings mattered to her.

“Absolutely,” Jo said anxiously.

“Well, at least I still have this ring to know if you’ll survive,” Lance said, showing Mary’s ring on his left hand as Jo shot him a glare.

Y/N let out a laugh then mouthed, ‘Thank you,” to him.

Lance gave a shrug and pushed away from the door, stretching his limbs. “If that’s all, I’d like to leave. I’m going to check on Mary. Are you coming, Jo?”

Jo bit her lip, glancing at Y/N. “I don’t know if I should. I don’t want to look at her right now.”

“You can’t just avoid her forever,” Y/N said. “She’s been through some traumatic events. You might be able to cheer her up.”

Jo took some time to think before letting out an exasperated breath. “Fine.”

She wished Y/N goodnight and followed Lance out of the room, leaving Harry and Y/N alone with each other. Silence sank in. For a long moment, Harry and Y/N just stood quietly, stealing glances at each other.

Suddenly, Harry chuckled.

“What?” Y/N asked.

“Nothing.” He pressed his lips together. “Would you like me to go as well?”

“No. You can stay,” she said, returning the smile.

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Harry told himself to not trouble Y/N anymore by talking about this, but he could not shake off the fact that she would keep running back towards danger. He’d almost lost her last night. He couldn’t risk letting it happen again.

As she turned her back and remained silent, he had trouble doing the same.

“You don’t have to go alone. I’ll go with you. She just didn’t want Lance to be there, and I–”

He stopped talking and pacing as soon as he noticed that Y/N hadn’t been listening. She was staring out of the window, silent as a ghost. At first, he thought she was just pondering over Calanthe’s letter. But then her shoulders began to shake.

“Peach?” he asked quietly, moving closer and taking her by the hand.

She was crying when he turned her around. He hadn’t seen her cry since that night on the cliff. In fact, she hadn’t shown any emotions since they’d returned to the castle. His heart dropped as he cupped her face while she sniffled, trying not to look at him.

“I’m sorry,” she uttered painfully.

“Why?”

“I’m c-crying...”

Harry pulled her to his chest, putting his arms tightly around her. “Why are you sorry for crying?”

“Because,” she sobbed, “because...I don’t think I’m supposed to…”

Those words were like knives going through Harry’s heart. He held her closer and whispered into her hair, “You don’t have to be strong when you’re with me.”

She said nothing, wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him in a tight hug. They hadn’t been intimate since they’d left the woods, and for a while, Harry had feared that the girl he loved had never made it out of that place. Now, seeing her break down right in his arms, Harry didn’t know if he should feel relieved or concerned.

“When I told you you were free to leave as soon as we made it back,” she said, her voice brittle, “I meant it...you can still leave this place.”

“Don’t you want me around anymore?”

Y/N pulled back, her contorted face made his heart ache. “I do. I’ll always need you. But...you didn’t sign up for this. You can still be happy. You told me you wanted to see the world. You can still have that life, find yourself a normal wife to love and cherish and spend the rest of your life with. This isn’t normal. I wish we could talk about the future and kids and a family and not death and war and uncertain fates.”

“Peach, stop–”

She shook her head fast and cradled his face in her hands. “It’s killing me, Harry. I don’t want to see you miserable, but I...I c-can’t make you happy anymore.”

“Hey, enough.” He grasped her wrists and gave her a shake just so she’d snap out of it.

Startled, she gawked at him with glassy round eyes. His fingers drifted to her face. Her breath caught at his tenderness.

“I want you,” he said. “All of you. It means I want this. I want your darkness. I want your pain. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re suffering alone. You don’t have to even love me back for me to love you, Peach. I’m not going to leave you just because you’re carrying more baggage than you could bear.”

A tear rolled down her cheek and he wiped it away. She shut her eyes, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t want you to get hurt again,” she said.

He smiled sadly. “Hey. You got stabbed. I didn’t. Lance didn’t either, and he was the one without a sword. So you don’t have to worry about either of us. Just yourself.”

Y/N snorted as she rubbed her nose onto her sleeve. “You just had to bring that up, didn’t you?”

“I enjoy making you smile while you’re crying,” he said, lifting her chin. “That’s why you need me in your life. I don’t care what people expect from you, love. I just want to be there for you.”

Y/N’s lip quivered. She took his hands in both of hers and pressed them to her chest. He could feel her heart racing. “I’m sorry for pushing you away…”

He chuckled. “And I’m sorry for disobeying that order. I know you love me, Peach. You’re the only girl who would jump off a cliff for me.”

“You mean I’m the only crazy one?” she said, giggling through the tears.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve known from the start. I told you you were crazy when I saved you from the river.”

She nodded, her lips curled gently.

“That’s how it works,” he added and brushed their noses together. “I save you. You save me back. Life could be easier without you, but I love myself a little challenge.”

Y/N pursed her lips, her brows drawn together, and Harry was afraid he’d said something wrong. “What is it?”

She squeezed his fingers before bringing them to her lips. “Marry me.”

Harry’s mind went numb for a second. He blinked at her, astonished. “Are you insane? We can’t just–”

“No one has to know.”

At this point, he was convinced she was unwell. “Peach, that’s wrong. You’re betrothed to Lance.”

Y/N shook her head fast. “A marriage based on an alliance will never be true. Lance and I both know that.”

As hard as it was for Harry, he had to say it. “I don’t think it’s untrue for him, Peach. The way he looks at you.”

Y/N’s eyebrows sloped. She sucked in a breath and averted her thoughtful eyes.

“I will always care for Lance,” she admitted, “and I want him to be happy and safe. So in a way, you can say that...that I do love him. However, the love I have for him is based on the purpose of survival. I can count on him, and he can count on me. We protect each other and the people around us. That is all.” She turned back to Harry, her eyes glimmering in the candle glow. “What you and I have is so different. I’ve loved you since the day at the river. When there was no danger or enemy. Just us being kids. And I know a lot has changed since, and things can’t go back to the way it was, but I’ll always love you the same and always want to be with you.” She slid her hands down to lace her fingers with his. “So...will you marry me?”

Harry could not stop the beam from spreading across his face. He knew this was wrong, but it was all he wanted and more.

“We don’t have any witness,” he blurted, making her giggle.

“We do. Us.” She looked heavenward. “And my parents.” Harry supposed he must seem so silly because she broke into a laugh when she saw the look on his face. “Just say yes, please? I’m a very proud person. You won’t like it when my pride gets hurt.”

“Are you proposing or threatening me?”

Without breaking eye contact, she took his left hand, slid her gold ring off his finger and kissed it. “Depends on your answer,” she replied with a smirk.

He snorted. “You know I’d just say yes to anything you ask.”

“Good.” Her lips curled as she put the ring back on his finger. “It’s official. We’re husband and wife.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works.”

“I’m the Queen. It works when I say it does.”

Y/N didn’t wait for Harry to come up with a remark. She grabbed him by the collar and tugged him in, locking his mouth with her own. She kissed him wildly. It had been a long time since they’d kissed like this. Harry never wanted this to end. Every touch of her fingertips increased the hunger in him. But he wasn’t going to let passion cloud his judgements. He would not pressure her into doing something she wasn’t comfortable with.

“Are you sure?” he asked breathlessly when they broke apart. “We don’t have to.”

“I want to,” she breathed, drawing him back into her. “Do you?”

He nodded, kissing her slowly. “I always want you. I missed you.”

“Show me.”

She slipped both arms around his neck and held him tightly, returning his kisses with equal desire. He knew they were spiralling down the pit of disaster, yet he didn’t want to stop.

The next thing they knew, his shirt had come off and her dress was on the floor. He lay her down on the bed. His hands cupped her breasts as his thumbs played over her nipples. She trembled and moaned into his mouth as she ran her hands up his broad back.

Pausing, she gazed up at him. “You’re so handsome. I love you.”

“You love me for my looks?” He laughed lowly into her neck. “Ouch.”

“That’s just a bonus. I love you for you.”

Harry smiled into her skin. “I’m flattered.” His voice a husky whisper. “And you’re so beautiful, love.”

Drawing in a quick, hard breath, her body tightened instantly in response to the wetness of his tongue over her nipple. She arched up into his mouth as a way of begging him not to stop. Knowing she’d only let herself be so vulnerable and helpless when she was with him, Harry’s heart doubled its side. He lifted his head to kiss her mouth again. He wanted to take it slow, but he knew this was torture for both of them, and he was dying to feel her again.

She pressed tight against the whole long length of him. It was evident how wet and ready she was. He slipped his fingers down between them and felt her there. His jaw dropped, mouth hanging open. She snuggled closer, her skin damp and hot and smooth. As he began to move his finger inside her, he could feel her heart pounding and her breath caught. He suckled her breast, giving it his full attention. She cried and tightened her fingers in the curls behind his head. She squeezed her thighs around his hand as he slipped in two fingers. Then she started rocking her hips.

“Easy,” he chuckled as she aggressively tugged his trousers down. His breath caught when she wrapped her fingers around his hot and hard length. She gave it a few strokes while kissing his mouth.

“Want you now,” she begged.

He couldn’t manage a single word, only nodding like a fool as he wrapped his hand around hers then rubbed himself against her soft, wet folds. Slowly, he worked his way inside. “Gods,” he gasped. “You’re so tight, love. Is it painful?”

“No,” she replied, swallowing hard. “It feels good.”

Harry was spending every ounce of control he had going slow to not hurt her. “Just tell me,” he said through clenched teeth. “If it hurts too much, we’ll stop.”

Y/N’s hands tightened on his shoulders as she arched her back and pushed back at him. To his surprise, she laughed. “Why are you acting like it’s my first time?”

“I’m sorry for caring about you?” he said between harsh breaths, smiling and kissing her cheek. Then, he thrust back inside her, seating himself fully where he most wanted to be.

She cried out, from pleasure, not pain, cupped his face and pulled him down to kiss him again. Her legs locked around his waist, refusing to let him leave her body. The fire spread up his legs and so he moved his trembling hand between them and rubbed her hard and fast. She tightened on him until it hurt, but it was the kind of pain he wanted to feel every day. She cried again with raw pleasure wrenched from her chest as he wrapped her in his arms and pumped into her.

“I love you,” he gasped, squeezing her thighs and going faster. “I love you so much.”

She arched into him, crashed by the second wave of pleasure. He caught her screams with his lips. Stars exploded behind his eyelids, and he could hear her whimpering his name again and again.

They lay still, legs tangled in between the sheets until the sweat on their skin was cooled by the wind through the opened window. Harry groaned as he propped himself up on his elbows.

Y/N caught his wrist before he could get up. “Where are you going?”

“To close the window.”

“No. Stay. I’m not cold.”

“I am,” he chuckled but lay down anyway and snuggled up against her. She giggled and tugged the cover over them, pulling him close to her chest.

“You’re such a Southern boy.”

“Thank you, Ice Princess.”

“Hey, I’m a queen.”

Harry grinned up at her and lifted his head to kiss her on the lips. “Well, Your Majesty. I’m coming with you to the border.”

Y/N’s smile dimmed as soon as she heard. He assumed she was having flashbacks of the last time they’d travelled to the border. Only one of them had made it back.

“No, you’re not,” she said.

Harry shook his head. “Dead or alive, we stay together. I can’t risk losing you again.”

Y/N groaned as she rolled her eyes. Harry braced himself for another argument, hating that he’d ruined the moment in which they both pretended to be two lovers without titles and responsibilities.

Surprisingly, she combed her fingers through his hair and said,  “All right. We’ll go together.”

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“How are you feeling?”

“Much better. Thank you, Your Majesty,” Mary told Lance, yet she was looking right at Jo. Jo hadn’t said a single word to her since last night. In fact, she had been expecting Jo to visit her after the attack. She’d heard that the Queen had been hurt, so Jo must have been by Her Majesty’s side this whole time. Mary knew it was Jo’s duty, yet she could not help but envy the Queen. Y/N had everyone caring about her.

“I know this is a tough time for all of us,” Lance said, standing with his hands behind his back. He looked relaxed at all times, which made Mary wonder how bad a situation must be for him to lose his composure. She wouldn’t want to find out, though. “My Queen received a letter from Calanthe today,” Lance went on. A line appeared between his dark brows. “She demands you to be returned to Theros.”

The news stopped Mary’s heart for a second. She couldn’t breathe. She clutched Lance’s wrist, causing him to flinch. “Please, don’t! Let me talk to the Queen!”

Lance regarded her with a sympathetic look as he gently pried her fingers off him. “Y/N will go alone,” he said. “That’s the difference between her and Calanthe. She’s not sacrificing innocent people for her own good.”

A sense of relief washed over Mary only to drown her in guilt. She was the way she was now because she’d blamed Y/N for all of her misery. Meanwhile, Y/N was protecting her. If she survived this somehow, she’d have to spend a lifetime regretting all her selfish mistakes.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Lance said, eyeing Jo before he spun on his heels and marched straight to the door.

The door was shut behind the King, and Mary turned to Jo, hoping she’d start the conversation. Jo idled for a long moment, just staring at her feet, probably trying to decide whether she should follow Lance or stay. Mary half wanted Jo to stay and talk to her, half wanted Jo to leave so she could pretend she and Jo were still on good terms.

Jo finally made up her mind. She padded across the room and sat down on the edge of Mary’s bed. Mary’s muscles were still sore from the chase last night, so she sat still with her back against the pillow when all she wanted to do was get closer to Jo.

“I know,” Jo broke the silence.

Mary’s stomach dropped. “What?”

“I know the truth. About why you came here.”

With Jo looking at her with that much disappointment, Mary wished she ceased to exist. She reached for Jo’s hand only to be pushed away.

“I can explain–”

“Please do,” Jo said, her face twisted in anger. “I’m so tired of seeing the people I care about get hurt because of you. Have you ever done anything right since you got here? You’ve been ruining lives. Y/N almost died last night, and she’s going to put herself in danger again to protect you.”

Mary swallowed hard as she dropped her head. “I-I’m sorry.”

Jo let go of a harsh breath. “If something bad happens to her, I will never forgive you. Because when I have to choose between Y/N and someone else, it’s always going to be her.”

Even though Mary knew it already, hearing it from Jo still hurt. “I understand,” Mary mumbled. Her hands started shaking, so she clutched the sheets. “I’m sorry for lying. I can tell you everything right now if it means I can gain back a bit of your trust.”

Jo frowned as she looked away. “Go on.”

Mary nodded, taking a deep breath. “At the beginning of time,” she began, “the four high courts didn’t exist. One hundred kingdoms were independent of one another. When Lokesh became King of Isolde, the Monks convinced him that he was the chosen one and it was his destiny to rule over one hundred kingdoms. And so Lokesh and his three brothers started invading the other kingdoms, until the rulers of what we called the low courts today had to give up their reigns to Isolde.

“However, with greed running in their blood, Lokesh’s brother did not want to hand full power to their brother. It was the beginning of the civil war that lasted over a year. Lokesh wanted to win so badly he sought consults from The Monks, and they helped him make a deal with the Gods to trade his firstborn for victory.

“He didn’t have a queen yet, but he was madly in love with a witch, who was a member of the society. The witch was with child and unaware of her lover’s cruel intentions. Lokesh’s army was winning when the Monk came to the witch’s house to collect the baby. Scared and heartbroken, she set her house on fire and ran away with her child. They both fell through the ice and died in the lake.”

“She was the witch in folklore,” Jo said when Mary paused.

Mary nodded. “Yes. And without the child, Lokesh couldn’t win. None of the brothers did. The one hundred kingdoms were then divided into four high courts. The Gods were angry at the brothers’ selfishness and cruelty, so they stopped the seasons from changing and let Isolde suffer from the cold all year round.

“Every day, Lokesh would come to the lake to mourn his lover and child. Then one day he never returned, and the crown was passed onto his cousin. Y/N was the only one who could find the lake because she shares the late king’s blood. But also because it was believed that the witch and the king had unfinished business and so they would keep meeting in different lifetimes as different people until they set things right.”

“So Harry and Y/N…”

“I thought it was Harry, too,” Mary said. “But then Lance showed up. And now I’m sure it’s Lance.”

Mary expected Jo to call her crazy or a liar, but what Jo said to her was, “Are they going to end up together?”

“Lance and Y/N?”

“Yes.”

Mary lifted her shoulders in a half-shrug. “I don’t know. Every lifetime is different. But as far as I’m concerned, soulmates don’t have to be lovers. And not every kind of love is the same.”

Jo pondered over the given fact, her brows furrowed as she pinched her bottom lip between two fingers. “What does this mean for them?” she asked after a moment. “Will they have to sacrifice themselves?”

“Not...necessarily,” Mary said. “I know Y/N is the saviour in my sister’s prophecy. Lokesh started this mess, and she’s going to end it. We just don’t know how.”

“So why didn’t the Monks choose her instead of Calanthe?” Jo asked.

Mary laughed dryly. “My theory is that they know they cannot control Y/N. She’s a wild horse. Calanthe is a house cat. If Calanthe wins, and Y/N is dead. The Monks can take over one hundred kingdoms. But if Y/N wins, chances are nothing will change, or she’ll give independence back to the low courts, and the world will be as it was at the beginning.”

Jo raised both eyebrows, looking intrigued yet worried at the same time. “So Calanthe’s a puppet?” Mary nodded. “Does Y/N know about this?”

“Not yet. Do you think I should tell her?”

“Yes, before she’s going to meet Calanthe,” Jo said, rising from the bed and smoothing the wrinkles on her skirt. “Well, I must go now. Rest well.”

The words piled up on Mary’s tongue as she watched Jo make her way to the door.

She had to say it.

“Just so you know.” Jo stopped and slowly turned around. Mary took a steady breath. “I may not be strong like Y/N, but I care about you, and I’m not going to let anything or anyone hurt you.”

Jo tilted her head, her expression so unreadable that Mary didn’t know what she was expecting. Jo said nothing at all. She just left, shutting the door without making a sound.