#i hate this. ok. in my brain i make a wish on this thing absentmindedly and then later i realize its

[caracello]

a week or two ago i was really stressed at work and i found this on the ground and picked it up and the first wish that popped into my head was 'i wish gabriel was here' and i ts what kickstarted the um. gabriel hust fucking shows up au in my brain and ive kept it in my work coat pocket since then OKAY. WHATRVER

[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. 

[elvish-sky]

Say That Again {Legolas x Reader}

A.N: Do I really like this fic? Yes, I do. Will I possibly be re-writing it and turning it into a multi-part? Yes, I will. Thank you so much to the two Anons who requested this- I kinda went a little off of your exact requests, so I hope that’s ok, but I was super inspired by them. I’m very proud of this, and I really hope you all like it!

Requested by Anons on Tumblr: Can I request a Legolas x reader fic where the reader is an archivist for the library in Mirkwood and Legolas begins to visit more often just to see the reader? Over the months, they get very close and eventually end up confessing/sharing a small kiss, and the reader whispers, “I love you.” afterward. Legolas, having not heard those words directed towards him in a long time, is breathless. then, shyly, he tells the reader to say it again😶

and

Hey! I love your writing, by the way. I know you probably get a lot of these, so no pressure, but I was wondering if I could request a Legolas x reader fic? maybe where the reader is like an archivist/librarian for the woodland realm, and Legolas is doing research on the sickness in his homeland. together, they both find that Sauron has returned, and become really close over the time they’ve spent together. maybe the reader could join the fellowship with him? it’s just an idea based on a fic I read a while ago. you could do what you like with it, but I thought you could turn it into whatever you like. Thanks!

Word Count: 1,431

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Warnings: Fluff, other than that I think that’s it. 

****

Say That Again

You sat curled up in your favorite chair in the back corner of the library and began to read, taking a break from your work. You were an archivist for the Library of the Woodland Realm, and you loved your job. Books were one of your favorite things in life, and so it was only natural for you to work in the library. Not only was it full of tomes of knowledge, but it was also absolutely stunning. Like everything else in the kingdom, it embodied nature, with smooth sweeping arches of stone and vines trailing along the walls. There were cuts in the stone to allow sunlight to brighten the dark, and the dust shone in the sunbeam on your table that was also illuminating your (h/c) hair, making it glow.

You looked up as someone plopped into the seat across from you. Legolas, Prince of the Woodland Realm, had started visiting the library rather suddenly several weeks ago, looking for answers about the blight and darkness that were spreading through the forest. Shocked at first about how much he cared about the forest, and then even more so at how interested he was in you, it had been rather awkward at first. He was the prince, and you were just another elf, of no importance. Despite your differences, you had become fast friends, although you had wished for more since you had first laid eyes on him, years ago. 

He slammed a thick book down onto the table. “I think this one may contain the answers!” You glanced at the title. Blights of Nature and Their Causes. As much as you did not want to get your hopes up, this one looked promising. 

“Where did you find this?” you flipped open the cover, admiring the pretty endpapers. Whoever had authored this book had clearly taken the time to make sure it was presentable.

“In the ‘Ancient Lore’ section, the top of the last shelf.” You could tell he had been in the far reaches of the library, he was absolutely covered in dust. You absentmindedly reached out to brush off his shoulder, making him blush, but you quickly withdrew your hand once you realized what you were doing. 

“What were you doing back there?” 

“I figured that we’ve had no luck looking in the places where it would make sense to find answers, so I looked in a place where it wouldn’t make sense.” 

You chuckled at his explanation. “That may be the least-well thought out reasoning I have ever heard.” 

“Nevertheless, this one might be it. I mean, it mentions blights in the title! What’s happening outside is definitely a blight.” 

You could understand his excitement. You had been looking for some sort of explanation for weeks, and the darkness was only spreading. You bent over the book, head bowed next to his as you poured over the pages together.

Sometime later, you awoke, hearing a gasp, to find your head resting on Legolas’ chest. You were somehow lying between his legs with the book resting on your stomach as he peered at it over your shoulder. “What is it?” you responded to his cry, blinking groggily. “I think I’ve found something.” Your eyes scanned the page he was on, flying across the words as you searched for what he meant. They came to a rest on the line A spreading of darkness in a forest, and an infestation of dark creatures, often herald the arrival of dark sorcery. 

“Dark sorcery?” you glanced up at him, your worry mirrored in his eyes looking back at you. 

“It makes sense,” you could feel his mind spinning, sense his brain questioning, searching for an answer. “But what sorcery is strong enough to corrupt the Woodland Realm?”

 “I do not know,” you replied. “But I fear for all our safety against one this powerful. We must learn who is doing this.” 

“I know of someone who may be able to answer our questions.” Legolas strode into the library the next morning with a purposeful air. You looked up from your work. He was wearing a tunic and leather boots, like always, and his hair loose except for those two small braids on either side of his head. He looked, to put it simply, absolutely wonderful. But then, when did he not?

You were sure that you didn’t look half as put together- you had spent the whole night after he left-which was admittedly not much, he had stayed pretty late- pouring over ancient manuscripts and old texts, trying to find mention of any sorcerers powerful enough to corrupt a whole forest. You had found nothing, and looked rather worse for wear.

“Who?” you were frantically attempting to rein in your unruly hair as you spoke.

“Gandalf the Grey. I sent him a bird last night and he replied, he has found something most troubling and thinks it may be related. I’m traveling to Rivendell today on unrelated business and he’ll be there, so I’ll ask him then.” 

Now you were busy brushing out your clothes and picking lint off of them. Legolas looked at you, eyes drawn from where they had been steadily focused on the wall behind you by your frantic movements. “Y/N, what are you doing?” He grabbed your hand. “I’m just… nothing.” You looked down in embarrassment, eyes firmly fixed on his boots. “You’re primping, aren’t you?” “Well, it’s not fair for you to just tramp in here looking perfect all the time!” You stepped back from him, realizing what you had just said. “Well, you- uh- you don’t look perfect, per se, more like… well put together!” 

Your self-conscious stammering had just made you feel worse. “Look, Legolas. I’m sorry. I very much did not mean to say that.” “It’s ok, Y/N. I do look pretty great.” He did a little twirl to show off just how great, and you felt the blood rush to your cheeks again. 

“Now, Y/N, you might want to go upstairs and grab some things for the road if we want to be out of the forest by midday.”

“Wait- I’m coming?”

“Of course, Y/N! You didn’t think that after all of the help you gave me you wouldn’t be included when we finally get our answer?” 

Sheepishly, you nodded.

“Ok, well, go pack. I’ll put these books back and be waiting ready to go.”

“Thank you, Legolas!” you exclaimed as you turned to the door. “Love you!” 

“What did you just say?” Legolas spoke, and you spun to see him, face pale with shock, leaning against your table. 

“I said thanks.” It had been a passing comment, and you didn’t remember saying anything else. Until you did. “Oh, shit!” you clapped a hand over your mouth and internally smacked yourself. If he did not dislike me for my oddities before, he’ll hate me now, you thought. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Legolas. It was just a slip of the tongue, it meant nothing…” you trailed off as he stepped closer to you.

He grabbed your chin in his hand, gazing into your eyes. “Say that again.” 

“It meant nothing?” you were so very confused. 

“No, Y/N. The other thing.” He looked mildly exasperated with you now but was still gazing at you with that peculiar expression on his face.

“I love you?” you stammered, wondering if that was, in fact, the right thing to say. 

“I love you too, Y/N.”

With this, his hand on your chin guided your lips to press against his. Finally, you thought as you melted into the kiss, surrendering yourself to him. You had wanted this for so long, and now it was finally happening. Your hands were tangled in his hair like you’d wanted them to be ever since you’d first met him. One of his was supporting your neck, and the other was wrapped around your back, pulling you closer into him.

Panting, you broke away. “I should go pack. We want to be on the road soon.” He nodded, seeming to come back to reality. “I’ll be waiting here when your ready, melleth nin.” He said the words to your retreating back, and as you heard them you smiled. Spinning around again, you strode back to him and grabbed his shirt to pull his lips down to yours. “We can wait ten more minutes, right?” “Of course.” He kissed you again, and you lost yourself in him, his arms wrapped around you, holding on to each other as you would be for the rest of your lives. 

Everything tag 💖: @entishramblings @boyruins @itgetsatadhazy @anjhope1

Legolas tag: @sheriffgerard

[purpletaecup]

5 ☾  i don’t want you to hurt me anymore

note: fully written chapter this time! no social media pics, but in this chapter, we see a little bit more of yoongi and yn’s relationship, or at least the bit of it when they fell apart. it’s sad. :-( once again, not edited lol.

note 2: feel free to message me about the story, or ask my characters anything hehe. my account is also open to fake text requests/imagines <3 i’m bored these days lol

word count: 2,627

At the doctor’s surprising news, both Yoongi and Jungkook froze. Yoongi did not know what to say, so he turned to the spot next to him, only to realize that Jin, who had left to go to the nurse at the reception, was not there. He didn’t know how to react, especially when Jungkook was the one standing by him right now.

Jungkook himself was much more confused than he looked. He looked at Yoongi questioningly. How were you pregnant when he knew that your relationship was on the rocks before your divorce even happened? He thought the worst case scenario and blurted it out without thinking.

“She cheated on you?” He asked.

Yoongi and the doctor both turned to him in shock at his question.

Yoongi furiously shook his head. “No, she couldn’t have.” The silence after that was deafening.

“How far along did you say she was?” He turned to the doctor.

The man looked scanned through his clipboard again to make sure he had the right timeline.

“We estimate that she’s about two months along.”

2 months. That’s around the time they were completing the divorce procedures. Yoongi tries to think back on how you could have ended up pregnant. Your started becoming distant some time around August when he was getting closer and closer to Yura. Your intimacy lessened as time passed, but he knew that you couldn’t have cheated on him. What had happened in the beginning of September?

After a minute or two, his eyes widened after he finally realized what happened between them that was most likely the conception date for the pregnancy.

He remembers a warm night in the beginning of September, where he came home late and you were waiting on the couch with a finished wine glass on the table.

Flashback

By the time he had gotten home, it was obvious that you were drunk and the drunk you had a lot of words to say. He couldn’t really tell what you were saying because you started crying as soon as the words came out of her mouth, but he knew that you were upset at him. So upset that you had broken down on the floor sobbing. He’d knelt down on the floor and cupped your cheeks and lifted your face up to meet his. Your eyes were bloodshot and teary and all he heard from you at this point were sniffles and sobs.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?” He asked, wiping the tears falling down her cheeks.

Those words had only made you cry harder.

“Because you don’t love me anymore.” You cried out in between sniffles.

The look on Yoongi’s face was a mixture of shock and hurt, but you couldn’t tell why. You were the one who was hurt, so why was he showing you a face like that?

“No, no, no baby. Who told you that? Why would you ever think that? I love you so much.” Yoongi had said to you as he desperately tried to wipe the tears that continued to flow from your eyes.

“It’s true, though, isn’t it? You don’t love me anymore and you’re with that girl from your company. You take her to all of your parties, you take her to dinners with your friends. You don’t have me in your heart anymore. Your friends don’t like me. Especially Jungkook. I don’t even know why. I’m sure even your parents don’t like me. Why do you guys hate me so much? Why does God hate me? Why would he do that to me? Am I not enough? Am I not worthy of receiving any sort of fucking love in this life?” At this point, you were practically yelling. Your lungs burned from crying and talking so much but you couldn’t really tell because the alcohol made you focus on your tears and dizziness and the man in front of you instead.

Yoongi’s eyes softened, then his brows furrowed, as if he was confused. What was there to be confused about? He hurt you, but he looked like he was the one who was hurt in this situation.

“Why do you look like that?” you asked. “Why do you look like you’re the one who got your heart broken when I’m the one who’s waiting at home for you and you don’t even have the decency to tell me where you are, or who you’re with or what time you’re coming home. Why do you get to fucking look like you’re hurt when I’m the one who has to watch you and all your fucking friends and family swoon over that woman. I’m your wife! And all I can do is sit at home and wait for you to fucking care about me. This is not how I want to live, Yoongi. I don’t deserve to be hurt like this. Not after what happened. Please, I’m so tired. It hurts so fucking much, Yoongi. Why are you doing this to me?” The crying only continued until you couldn’t breathe anymore.

Yoongi pulled your form into a tight hug, and held you like it was his dying wish. You didn’t know if you heard it properly but you thought he was crying. And he was. There were tears in his eyes because he knew that what you were saying was valid. Extremely. And he couldn’t really refute it because it was true, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t love you.

He stroked your hair until you calmed down a little more and that’s when he finally got a word in.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that you had to go through that. I love you so much that it hurts my heart when I think about not having you in my life. You’re my everything and you were with me from the start, of course you have a place in my heart. You own it. I’m sorry I made you feel that way but please don’t ever doubt my love for you. Yura, she’s nothing. She’s just my friend. And you said you didn’t want to go to the parties. Jungkook and Yura are friends and they get along so that’s why I bring her. She’s become one of my closest friends but that’s just what she is. A friend. I love you, not her.”

You and Yoongi both know that he wasn’t being truthful, but you let it be because he was saying things you wanted him to say. He was reassuring you of his love for you, and even if it wasn’t true, it still gave you some temporary relief.

He put his face on the crook of your neck and muttered a million ‘sorrys’ before you moved to put your hand on his back.

“You hurt me. I don’t want you to hurt me anymore, Yoongi. I love you so much that it makes me hate myself. You made me suffer so much these past months.”

“I know, baby, and I won’t do it again. I love you so much. I’ll try harder, okay? I’ll go home earlier and I won’t go to the parties anymore. I don’t want to give up on our marriage. I want to be with you.”

The night of crying and venting out the hurt and shame and tears had ended in the both of you tangled up in bed all night, probably making up for the pain that was caused. Yoongi didn’t remember much of that night because it hurt him to think about it, but of the amount of times you had made love that night under the moonlight, one of them undoubtedly got you pregnant. He never used protection with you and that was only because he knew you were on birth control, but he had never thought about you getting pregnant, especially not after the fact that it was only a week and a half later when his lawyers brought the divorce papers to you.

End flashback

Being reminded of that night made Yoongi feel queasy. In his heart, he knew that he had told you that truth when he said he loved you and that he wanted to save your marriage, but he was tired. And you were growing distant. Both of you. He could never bring you out anywhere and you always got mad when he went with someone else, or when he was with Jungkook. Yura was there and she was so nice and bubbly and happy, and being with her made him happy. Though you both tried, the arguments increased and his frustrations bubbled until he finally decided to tell his lawyer to draw up the divorce papers.

Yoongi snapped back to the present and looked up at the doctor.

“Yeah, two months sound about right. How is she doing? How is the baby doing?” He asked.

“The fetus is doing pretty well considering the accident. We’re surprised she didn’t suffer a miscarriage because of the impact of the crash, but I guess this can be considered a miracle. To reiterate, Miss y/n is okay, just suffering from a head wound and multiple lacerations and bruises. For the next couple of days, bruises might become more prominent. We’ll be doing MRIs to check on brain activity, especially because of her head wound. Just to check if everything is okay. We don’t know how long she’ll stay unconscious for, but we’re hopeful that she’ll wake up within a couple of days, a week at most.” The doctor stated.

Yoongi nodded absentmindedly. He was quiet for some time until Jungkook spoke up.

“Are we allowed to see her?” He asked.

The doctor nodded. “Yes, you can see her. I think they’ll have wheeled her into her room right now. You can just go through that door. It’s a hallway that winds around so you’ll end up on the other side. I believe she’ll be in room 3. We only allow one visitor to stay overnight.”

“Ok, thank you so much, sir. We’ll wait for her cousin first before going to see her.” Jungkook stated.

“Thank you, doctor.” Yoongi said with a small but dull smile on his face. He truly was thankful. He didn’t know if he would have ever known that he would be a father if it wasn’t for this accident and the doctor. As sick as it sounds, he was somehow grateful that he was your emergency contact.

“It’s no problem at all. Since you are her emergency contact, we will be updating you on her progress and if anything should happen, but right now, things are looking up. Don’t worry too much. She’s alive and so is your baby. It’s a miracle.” The doctor smiled at Yoongi before waving goodbye.

Yoongi and Jungkook sat back down on the chairs trying to sink the information into their heads.

The accident. You. Near-death and pregnant. It all seemed like some sort of crazy movie plot.

“So, she didn’t cheat on you? That’s your child that she’s carrying?” Jungkook’s voice rang in Yoongi’s ears.

The accusations are ridiculous, he knows that. That’s his child that was in your belly. There was no doubt about it, and yet, for some reason, it made him feel strange.

Yoongi nodded to answer his question.

“I thought you said you guys weren’t close leading up to the divorce?” Jungkook questioned.

Yoongi shook his head. “Not for a while, but something happened. I don’t really want to talk about it in detail, but it was emotional and it got the better of both of us. It was the week before the divorce papers.”

“Oh, when you stopped coming to the parties after work, huh?”

“Yeah.”

Silence followed and stayed until the both of them heard heavy footsteps coming up to them. They look up to see Jin fast-walking to them, with a nurse trailing behind him. The same nurse who had led Yoongi here.

“She told me that they were letting visitors in for y/n, now. Did the doctors tell you anything?” He asked.

Yoongi’s face blanked. Jungkook looked at him and back at Jin and nodded.

“Let’s head to her room first and we’ll tell you what he told us.” He said.

The three of them followed the nurse around the hallway to the other side of the operating room. The walk was short, but the silence dragged on until the creaking of the door opening was all they could hear.

Yoongi walked in first and the moment he saw you, he felt sick to his stomach. Your body, pale and bruised, was covered in bandages from head to toe. Half of your head was wrapped in gauze. For the head injury, he’s assuming. There were multiple wires and needles connected to your hands. He had never, ever seen you, or anyone like this before. And it broke his heart, and then the guilt started to seep in.

He walked up to your unconscious body and took your hand, covered in all sorts of wires, in his. Somehow it felt unreal, but as the seconds passed and as his eyes passed over your still form, the reality of the accident and the pregnancy settled on his mind and in his heart.

He felt someone come up behind him and from his peripheral he can identify Jin. He looked about ready to cry, much like how Yoongi did at this moment.

“What did the doctor say?” Jin asked.

Jungkook stayed back, leaning against the door. He waited for Yoongi to answer but his eyes were locked on your body, so he decided to just speak up in place of his hyung.

“The doctor said she’s ok and is expected to wake up in the next couple of days or a week at most. No heavy damage, apparently.”

Yoongi mumbled something as he stroked your bruised fingers. Jin turned to look at him.

“What?”

“She’s pregnant.” Yoongi said, louder this time.

Jin’s eyes widened almost comically. “Pregnant, how in the hell is she pregnant? I think I would know if she was having a kid with somebody.”

“It’s mine.”

“No. There’s no way. You are divorced, and you hurt her. She would have never let you touch her when you hurt her as much as you did.” Jin’s voice got louder and louder, and the guilt that was planted in the pit of Yoongi’s stomach bloomed.

“Yeah, I know. It was one time and we were both emotionally wrecked. I made promises to her that I couldn’t keep and now here we are. But that’s my fucking kid, you can’t tell me otherwise.” Yoongi tried to keep his tone respectful, as Jin was older than him and was one of the most prominent people in your life, but he could only take so much criticism. Jin’s talked to him as if he ruined your life. As if he killed you.

“It’s her child. When she wakes up, she won’t want anything to do with you. You hurt her beyond anything you could probably even imagine in your little brain. You were off doing god knows what when she was suffering at home. That’s not your kid. It might be yours biologically, but you ruined all the chances you had of being a dad when you broke y/n’s heart.”

Every word Jin said was like a knife to his heart. It fed the flower of guilt and made it grow. When he thought about it, he couldn’t really argue because what he said was true. You were a unit before, but when he had promised to try harder, he didn’t and now you’re divorced and pregnant and you hate him and you two will be parents but in a broken family.

☽

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[unsettlingconclusions]

Burnt Bridges

Summary: Once a bridge has been burnt down, can it be rebuilt? Set after party / exposure of Lewis (Ch 15) Pairing: Ayna Seth x F!MC (Kennedy) Rating: M (NSFW) Word Count: 6k+ Notes: That turned out to be a lot longer than I expected. Also, I'm not very into writing smut, so I apologize if that's unfulfilling. This is my (very messy) take on how the reconciliation should've played. I wrote this mainly to sort out the very conflicting feelings this plot brought me. Enjoy. Dance away your troubles, that's how the saying goes, right? As far as Kennedy is concerned, that's how her evening was going, and she was enjoying every minute of it. She was almost happy, what with such a huge weight lifted off her shoulders. It felt good to be carefree again, if only for tonight.

The man behind the paranoia that her life had turned to was thankfully incapable of harming her any longer. At least that's what she was intent on believing for the moment. Maybe things would turn out not to be so simple but, for now, she was satisfied.

This rollercoaster of a day had started out like just any other day until she came knocking on her door, claiming to have an idea of how to help the Rutherlandian catch the person who’s been setting her up.

Ayna Seth.

Kennedy never felt so confused by anyone else in her life.

She had met Ayna at Vancross and they had hit it off from the beginning. She felt at ease in Ayna's presence, the elder woman had a power to make her feel like she could just be. It calmed and soothed Kennedy at the same rate it thrilled and excited her. Even when the press was breathing down her neck and her mother wouldn't get off her case, Ayna never wavered, and Kennedy felt blissful to have found someone she could count on. That is, until she found out that Ayna was the one helping set her up. That day Kennedy found out what it meant to feel gut punched. Heartbroken. Devastated.

Ayna sold her out, pure and simple. But she was also the woman who kind of sold herself out to help Kennedy get her life back. Ayna risked her reputation, her job, her relationship with her father and her own safety by posing as bait to draw Lewis Wright out. Kennedy couldn't ignore that, could she? Ugh- that was messy.

I need a little break, she decides, unable to get Ayna out of her head now that the woman has intruded herself. Finding a secluded spot at the bar where she could lay low for a while, she motions to let Dionne know she's going for a drink. And that’s exactly when her eyes catches Ayna's. Would the woman think she was being invited there? Kennedy couldn't tell and she simultaneously wished for and against it.

She approaches the bar and orders another one of those flaming drinks Dionne got her earlier. The bartender sets to fill her order and by the time Kennedy is putting out the fire with her hands, she senses a frame approaching her from the side.

"What an intense day," it was Ayna's voice. Kennedy took in the older woman's stance. She appeared relaxed and loose. Maybe the dance had eased her troubles away as well? Whatever it was, it seemed to do her good.

"Yeah, I seriously hope that's not what my life is gonna look like from now on," Kennedy answers truthfully.

"It's just the election cycle. I'm sure everything will settle down once your mom wins again."

"You think?"

"Well, I hope so. At least you won't be so much in the spotlight anymore."

"I'll drink to that!"

Kennedy offers Ayna a smile and turns back to the counter. She takes a sip of her drink and absentmindedly strokes her wrist when she settles it down. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Ayna glancing at her.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

Ayna pauses, opens her mouth and then closes it again, apparently changing her mind. "Uhmm, nevermind." She glances away, rubbing the back of her neck and Kennedy can feel a shift in the energy surrounding them. The relaxation seemed gone, replaced by awkwardness, was that it? It is then that she realizes she had been stroking her wrist. She abruptly stops, clenching her fists on top of the counter. Ayna's face fell. Shit! So much for just being, huh?

"I should go. You enjoy the rest of the night with your friends." Ayna offers dejectedly, shifting her weight as if preparing to depart. "I'm sure at this point Dionne won't mind me gone.”

Kennedy was taken aback by how faster her heart was suddenly beating. She wanted to say it had to do with how much she’s had to drink and not with the unexpected panic she felt at the prospect of Ayna leaving, but she knew that would be at least half a lie. She wanted to chastise herself, realizing now that the truth was she desperately missed this feeling of them being comfortable in each other’s presence. She wasn't ready to let that go.

“Can’t you stay a while longer?”

“I shouldn’t. I have to be at Vancross early tomorrow morning. Work and all.” Ayna says with a sheepish smile that resembled more a grimace and wraps her arms around herself.

That was a telltale sign that the TA was putting up a front if Kennedy ever saw one. She wracked her brain looking for something to say that could take the edge off Ayna, but in reality, how would that be even possible? They were in the middle of a speakeasy surrounded by loud and obnoxious people (which may or may not include her own friends), and sitting between them was this huge unaddressed elephant. She couldn’t possibly expect to dissolve all the tension between them when they had to shout every sentence just to be heard. But she just wanted to talk to Ayna. Really talk it all out. She knew this sudden desire to bare her soul was probably the liquid courage speaking for her, but she would be damned if she didn’t make the most of it.

"Do you live far from here?"

"A little. Why?"

Kennedy drowns the rest of her drink in a single motion, throwing more fuel at the bravery that seemed to be guiding her actions as of now, preparing herself to do what she really wanted to do. If there was anything this whole ordeal taught her was that she should live her life fully. She was going to be judged and quite literally haunted for every little action she made it seems, so she was going to make sure from now on that she’d live on her own terms. No regrets.

"Can I come with you?" She blurts out. "I'd rather be somewhere quieter.” And anywhere else if it meant being with you, she added in her head, not being brave enough to say that out loud, though. Not yet, anyway. “Today’s been exciting enough.”

She feels Ayna’s eyes trained on her face.

"I'm not sure your bodyguard would agree to that."

"I can handle Tatum."

“You’re not drunk, are you?”

“No.” Maybe just a little?

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yes.”

A few seconds ticked by before Ayna answers, their gazes never breaking. Kennedy could only imagine Ayna might be pondering a few thoughts of her own.

“Ok.”

The conversation with Tatum wasn’t exactly a breeze. He first chastised Kennedy for convincing him to go drinking and letting his guard down only to later on pull this stunt. Then he proceeded to (in a very concerned and caring tone, Kennedy had to admit) tell her he didn’t think it was a good idea. For reasons of safety and otherwise.

“I don’t mean to be insensitive here but you thought she was sincere before and you know how it turned out”, he said.

“I understand where you’re coming from, Tatum, but I’m doing this with or without your help.”

So he helped, of course, even though he was off duty (and displeased). Half an hour later Kennedy found herself enjoying the most awkward car ride in the history of awkward car rides. Agent Demarco was driving, Tatum by his side riding shotgun, and a very, very uncomfortable Ayna sat opposite her in the back seat, nearly glued to the door. The TA spent the entire drive looking out the window, only breaking out of her shell as far as it was necessary to direct Demarco through the city streets. Well, this is going great.

Kennedy let out a breath of relief when they arrived at the apartment complex. It was short lived, though, as Agent Demarco's voice cut the silence. He didn't exactly look very thrilled by the whole situation either.

"Which apartment is yours?"

"208-A."

"Could you give me your key? I'll check it out and be back in a few minutes."

"Hmm, sure." Ayna fished for her apartment keys, giving them to Agent Demarco. Tatum didn't follow, choosing instead to take a few steps back, but not too many, his posture stiff, back on the job.

Kennedy hated all of this. It seemed they were intent on making Ayna feel like a criminal and remind Kennedy herself the reality of their situation. She knew it was well-intentioned, but she didn't care for it one bit.

Fifteen long minutes later, Agent Demarco returns exclaiming "Coast is clear". Tatum chips right in, "Alright, Kennedy, you can go in, but Agent Demarco and I will stay by the door. If you need anything at all, you just have to call for us, ok? Leave the door unlocked." Yes, definitely intent.

As soon as both women cross the threshold and close the door behind them, Ayna's shoulders slump slightly.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Don't be. They are just doing their jobs."

"Still..."

“Well, would you like something to drink?” Ayna says, deviating the subject for now. She leaves her shoes by the front door and starts for the kitchen.

“Do you have coffee?”

The adrenaline provided by the loud music and boisterous environment of the club seemed to wear off during the ride and Kennedy felt the need to sober up however possible. It seemed this wasn't going to be a very pleasant conversation afterall. The whole fiasco with Demarco and Tatum served to remind her of that.

“Sure. You’d be surprised to know sometimes coffee is all I have. I’ll start a pot.”

Ayna busied herself in the kitchen and Kennedy took the opportunity to explore a little bit. She took off her own shoes and went for the living room, admiring the various pictures scattered around. Some were of Ayna and her friends, Kennedy assumed. On the wall, Kennedy spotted a collage picture frame adorned with pictures of Ayna and her dad in various scenarios: when she was a baby, graduating middle school, at what seemed like a soccer game? She should file that information for later.

“You and your dad look sweet together.”

"Thanks. It's easy when he's a very sweet man himself." Ayna emerges from the kitchen carrying two steaming coffee cups, offering one cup to Kennedy. "Black coffee ok?"

"It's fine."

They both take a seat and quietly enjoy their coffee for a moment. Kennedy chooses the armchair, leaving the entire couch for Ayna. She didn't want the TA to feel cornered like it happened in the car.

"How is he doing?" It was Kennedy who broke the silence.

Ayna sighs. "He's fine. As well as can be expected. I'm thankful the treatment has been working so far." She lowers her eyeglasses a little and rubs her eyes, looking dejected. Kennedy would slap herself in the face if she could for bringing this up. But then again, that is the main reason they are deep in this conundrum, isn't it? There's no good in avoiding it.

For the brief moment she catches Ayna’s glasses off her eyes, Kennedy notices the deep circles resting beneath them. She had noticed before that Ayna looked a little worse for the wear, but this is when she got to see just how much.

“You look tired.”

“Sleep has been evading me lately.” Ayna quickly slides her eyeglasses up again. "I suppose these help hide it a little, don’t they?"

"You don't have to hide with me, Ayna." What the hell, Kennedy?

"That's... sweet of you to say."

That brief slip of misplaced affection threw them right back to silence. How to go talking about something like this? Kennedy thought there really wasn't an instruction manual on how to go back to talking to your girlfriend after she betrays you. Were they ever really girlfriends? This train of thought is not helping me much either.

"Do you have a plan for what to do now? For his treatment, I mean." Kennedy decided to steer the conversation back to Arjun. She was genuinely curious and interested.

"I have some savings. I'm going to see if I can at least pay for his surgery and figure out the rest as it comes."

"Would you accept my help?"

"Kennedy, I couldn't possibly. I already took so much from you."

"What if I loan it to you?"

"And how would I pay it back? I'm not sure I'm even going to manage to keep my job." Ayna pauses, breathing deeply. "And my dad wouldn't accept it either. I'm sure now it's only a matter of time before he finds out how I... how I managed to pay for his treatment."

"Ayna, don't worry about this. I won't let it come out that you were involved with this."

"Kennedy, that's sweet. Much more than I deserve from you, but I don't think you can really do this."

"I'll do everything I can, then. You shouldn’t lose the love of your father because a dead-ass jerk took advantage of you in a moment of vulnerability.”

“Is that how you feel? About what I did?”

“About why you did what you did. I don’t think you’re a bad person, Ayna.”

“My dad thinks so highly of me. It’s going to crush him when he finds out.”

“Then let’s hope it doesn’t come to it. Your father seems like a nice man, he should have peace to recover. And he should have you.”

“You wanna know what's the worst part of it? I don't think I was completely honest with you at the hospital,” Ayna confesses, and she begins to get agitated, rubbing the palms of her hands in her thighs, the coffee long forgotten at the coffee table. “The truth is it scared me to learn how far I was willing to compromise my values. My dad always tried to teach me to do the right thing, and I always thought of myself as righteous, I always strived to live up to his standards. But when I was approached, I barely hesitated in taking the deal.”

Kennedy provides no reply to that, mainly for feeling Ayna wasn’t done letting it all out. The silence stretches for a few seconds before Ayna hangs her head, taking in a long breath. “I know this doesn't help my case, but I think you deserve my complete honesty. And I want you to know that when you were attacked, they crossed a line that I just couldn’t go along with, even if I haven’t...” She trails off averting Kennedy’s gaze, her own looking troubled, as if she was caught off guard by what she was saying. “I couldn’t do it.”

What is she saying?

"Ayna-" Kennedy starts speaking, but is quickly interrupted by Ayna, now sitting at the edge of the sofa, her body turned in Kennedy's direction. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’m so, so sorry you were ever put in a position to feel terrified.”

You should be! was Kennedy's first thought. This was a hard one to swallow and Kennedy felt her blood boil as she was, for a second, back in the moment she realized Ayna was the only one who knew she was at the lake. The moment she realized she was betrayed. “I’m not gonna lie, it was pretty scary. And to find out that you, of all people, were somehow responsible... it hurt, Ayna. It hurt so damn much.”

In a fluid, fast motion, Ayna crosses the living room, now kneeling by the armchair, resting her hands near Kennedy's but not really touching. “I’m so sorry, Kennedy. That’s all I can say. After getting to know you, all I ever wanted was to make you feel safe. All I ever wanted was to be there for you and support you in any way I could.”

“But that’s why it hurt so much, you see?" Kennedy exclaims a little on the exasperation side. "Because I felt all of that, Ayna. That's how I saw you, my safe space, someone I could really trust, that I could always to turn to. When I realized it, God I felt so stupid.”

It pained Kennedy to say these words as it pained Ayna to hear them. The TA all but deflates, shoulders slumped, head hanging low. After a few seconds, Kennedy is sure she heard a quiet sniffle and all her exasperation disappeared. Ayna was right there, kneeling by her side, and Kennedy's heart screamed at her to reach out, but her head wouldn’t let her do it. They weren't there yet.

“Look, Ayna, I’m not saying these things just to be mean to you. I guess I... I don’t know, I guess I just wanted to get it out of my chest", she says instead.

“I understand," Ayna replies releasing a sigh. She gets up and turns her back to Kennedy for a few seconds, discreetly wiping her eyes before turning back around. "I should be counting my lucky stars that you’re even here talking to me. I appreciate that. You really didn’t have to be here but you are, so thank you.”

But she really had to, Kennedy thought, or the doubts and resentment that were threatening to build up inside of her would eat her alive.

She could see that the turn the conversation took was really weighing down on the older woman. Ayna looked even more tired and dejected than when they first arrived in the apartment. The sight of it was upsetting Kennedy deeply. She was discovering she really couldn’t stand the idea of Ayna Seth being in pain, no matter where their relationship was standing.

“I know it can’t have been easy for you. To be caught between a rock and a hard place like that,” she offers, trying to make Ayna feel at least a little better.

“Kennedy, I don’t want to sound bad but... I have to ask. Why are you being nice to me?”

“Well, I learned that from you. To put myself in other people’s shoes. I... I didn’t like the way I saw everyone treating you earlier.”

Kennedy bit her lip, pondering if she should say what else she didn’t like, which was the way Zaira looked oddly comfortable pulling Ayna towards the dance floor. She decided against it; she felt confused as it was without adding yet another emotion into this pile of crap. Jealousy would have to wait. “I don’t think you’re a horrible comic villain who deserves to be lynched at every opportunity and I wish everyone would just stop treating you like that.”

To this Ayna offers a genuine smile. Kennedy can also see how some sparkle flashed briefly through Ayna’s eyes. “Thank you. This means a lot coming from you.”

Kennedy smiles timidly in return. She pauses for a moment, trying to process everything they have said so far. She really believed Ayna was caught in a bad place having to choose between two people she cared about. Kennedy knew Ayna loved her father fiercely but... what about me?

She takes in her surroundings for a minute: here she was, seated by an armchair in the living room of Ayna’s apartment, and the TA was standing right across from her. There was no better time or place to get the answers that she needed, and it was getting late, and to be dancing around the subject was exhausting her. She gets up from her position, approaching slowly but decidedly the other woman.

“Tell me Ayna. If we haven’t grown close, if you didn’t know I wasn’t just a rich spoiled privileged brat, would you have continued to feed Wright information about me?”

"After the attack on you, no, I don’t think I would’ve."

“Would you have reached out to me to let me know someone was out to get me? Would you still have helped me flush him out?”

“I like to think that I would’ve, yes.”

"What were you going to say when you said you haven't? Haven't what?"

That was it, what she really, really wanted to know. She wanted, scratch that, she needed to hear Ayna say it. And the TA kept fidgeting, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, looking everywhere but at the younger woman. So Kennedy presses on, searching for Ayna’s eyes, repeating the question once she found them.

"Haven't what, Ayna?"

"Fallen in love with you.”

That was Ayna’s answer, and said with an unwavering certainty so unlike her recent attitude, that Kennedy felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. She was certain she never felt so much in such a short span of time before. After that, there was no turning back anymore. She would take the plunge, and so help her God. Live life fully.

"Look, you risked everything to help me get my life back. The slate is wiped clean as far as I'm concerned,” she states, stepping closer to Ayna.

"Do you really mean that?” It was Ayna’s turn to tentatively take a step closer to Kennedy now, hope written all over her face.

"Yes. I don't want to hold a grudge and be angry with you. Not when you make me feel... so much more.” Kennedy goes forward again, reaching an arms-length distance from the other woman. “You mean the world to me, Ayna. I don’t want to pretend anymore that you don’t.”

Ayna reaches out, taking hold of Kennedy's hands in her own. Her movements are slow, almost calculated, and Kennedy wonders if that’s out of fear that any sudden movement might break the spell of the past few minutes. She intertwines their fingers together while glancing intently at Kennedy, her eyes searching for something.

“Do you think you can forgive me entirely? Wholeheartedly? If this all goes suddenly away in the morning, I’m not sure I can handle it.”

The proximity of Ayna is enough to make Kennedy feel her entire body go warm. Although she had a thousand objections at the back of her mind screaming back at her, right now all she wanted was to keep feeling whatever it was that Ayna’s touch made her feel. But she couldn't lie. She couldn't make any promises when she herself wasn't sure of anything but her desire to just try and move on. So she searched deep within herself the most honest answer she could find.

“All I can say is that I’m going to try my best. Is that good enough for you?”

Ayna takes a long breath and shuts her eyes. She lets go of Kennedy's hands and slides hers gently up the younger woman's arms until she reaches Kennedy's face. She cups Kennedy's cheeks and lets her thumb caress them. Kennedy responds by sliding her arms around Ayna's waist, bringing their bodies closer together, feeling her world narrowing down to Ayna and Ayna alone. And when Ayna opens her eyes, Kennedy feels like she‘s staring right into her soul.

“Yes."

That simple word was all it took for Kennedy's head to go spinning. She feels Ayna leaning in further, slowly, giving Kennedy one last opportunity to back away. Instead, Kennedy closes the distance between them. There was nothing else she could do at this point.

Their lips meet in a slow, tender kiss. The feeling of Ayna's soft lips, the smell of her perfume, the warmth of Ayna’s body pressing into hers... it was all so much, Kennedy felt overwhelmed. At the same time, it wasn’t nearly enough. She parts her lips to deepen the kiss, inviting Ayna in, and Ayna responds by sliding her tongue through Kennedy's bottom lip before slipping inside. Tongues dancing together, Ayna loses one of her hands in Kennedy's hair and Kennedy's hold on Ayna's waist tightens a they get lost on one another, savoring the feeling of being in each other's arms again.

“I missed you, Kennedy. So much.”

“I missed you too.”

The sweetness and tenderness is quickly replaced by passion. Days of lingering doubts and longing translate into hands roaming everywhere, both eager to show just how much they missed each other. Ayna's hands grab Kennedy's small back and pulls their hips together, fingers digging into skin before sliding down and scratching her thighs, while Kennedy buries herself in Ayna's neck, kissing and sucking her jawline, her earlobe, the nape of her neck, every inch of skin she could find. She lets out a sigh as she feels that the exposed skin is wanting, covered by many layers of clothing too much, and grabs a hold of Ayna's blouse, tugging it from Ayna's skirt. She motions to take the shirt off of Ayna only to have her movements halted.

“No, not so fast." Ayna holds Kennedy's hands and steps away from her embrace for a second. "I want tonight to last as long as possible.”

Kennedy understands the implied message. This was their first time together and who knew what tomorrow may bring? She looks at Ayna, whose eyes are burning with desire and filled with so much emotion that a shiver runs up Kennedy's spine. Tonight was theirs.

"Can we move this to the bedroom?" Kennedy asks panting, feeling her insides squeeze with the prospect of being so intimate with Ayna, both literally and metaphorically. The smile that crept upon Ayna's face at the request could light up the whole sky. "You don't have to ask me twice."

With as much enthusiasm as fondness, Ayna takes one of Kennedy's hands in her own, lacing their fingers together, and gently directs them towards the bedroom.

Once inside, Ayna wraps her arms around Kennedy's torso from behind, pressing her chest against Kennedy's back, holding her tightly in place. She buries her head in the nape of Kennedy's neck, breathing Kennedy's scent in. "Let me stay here for a minute, please," she mumbles quietly, and Kennedy lets her, closing her eyes and relishing in this quietude that Ayna's embrace always brought her. They sway from side to side, finding a rhythm together, until Ayna starts peppering Kennedy's neck with small kisses. Her hands slides languidly under the lapels of Kennedy's cardigan, pulling it out and tossing it to the side. She then directs her attention to Kennedy's shirt, sliding underneath it and shoving it upwards, her hands caressing the skin she found on the way. The heat emanating from Ayna's hands left a hot trail on Kennedy's skin, and Kennedy felt like she was melting right there.

She turns around in Ayna's embrace and captures Ayna's lips once again. With much more paced but no less yearning movements, Kennedy slides her hands down Ayna's chest, reaching for the hem of her shirt. This time she's met with no objection and she happily takes it off as well, settling her hands on Ayna's now bare shoulders. “There’s something I always wanted to do."

"What is it?"

Instead of answering with words, Kennedy entangles her fingers through Ayna’s hair and picks lightly on the hair pins keeping the bun in place. “Can I?”, she inquires softly.

Ayna nods her consent. She closes her eyes and leans into one of Kennedy’s hands as the young woman tread her fingers through her hair, letting it loose and guiding it over her shoulders. Once she’s finished, Kennedy brings both her hands back to cup Ayna’s face, lingering there. “You are so beautiful”, she says in a voice no louder than a whisper, prompting Ayna to open her eyes. Kennedy tried to cool down a little the look of adoration she knew she probably had imprinted on her own face, but the quick reddening of Ayna’s neck and ears told her she most likely failed.

She continues her exploration now going for Ayna’s glasses. When the older woman offers no resistance, she pulls it off. And that was a sight that Kennedy was sure would be engraved on her mind for a long time to come. Ayna looked completely different now, stripped bare from all formalities she had held on to keep her distance. She looked so vulnerable and very unlike the imposing figure she could occasionally be as a TA.

“You know, I can’t see very well without my glasses on.” Ayna says quietly.

“You look like a whole other person. It’s like I’m seeing you now for the first time.”

Ayna pauses for a moment before gently taking the glasses from Kennedy and placing them by the nightstand, “I guess I’ll have to keep you pretty close to me then.”

When she leans back towards Kennedy, her whole attitude‘s changed. She seemed filled by a renewed determination as she kissed Kennedy deeply but unhurriedly. Her arms engulfed the smaller woman tightly, one hand at the back of Kennedy’s head, keeping her in place, the other grasping firmly at her back.

Slowly, Ayna walks forward urging Kennedy with her, until the back of Kennedy's knees collide with the bed, prompting the younger woman to gasp.

Ayna looks pointedly at Kennedy, a hidden question dancing in her eyes. It endears Kennedy that Ayna's being so respectful at the same rate it saddens her that it might be out of fear.

"I want this, Ayna. I want you."

With the encouragement, Ayna sits Kennedy on the bed, kneeling in front of her. "Maybe all of this could go, then?" She picks on the waistband of Kennedy's pants. "I believe we are a little overdressed."

"Yeah, we should fix that," is Kennedy's reply, and she goes unfastening the button of her pants only to be halted.

“Let me. I've been wanting to do this for a while."

So Ayna unfastens and rids Kennedy's lower body from her jeans, and then she stands up and removers her own skirt before joining Kennedy on the bed. Their lips meet instantly, legs entangling together, and Kennedy moves on top of Ayna, settling her weight down on the TA's body. They both moan in unison when their hips touch, fitting perfectly.

"There's still a few layers of clothing remaining. Are you slacking off?" Kennedy teases.

Ayna's chuckle fill the air, "Oh, no, I wouldn't dream of it,” she says, as she moves to unclasp Kennedy's bra. They quickly complete the task of ridding each other of their underwear, standing now completely bare in front of one another.

"Come here," Ayna pulls Kennedy back on top of her, moaning softly when they settle into each other. “You feel so good.”

Kennedy responds by merging their lips together again as she lets her hands wander all over Ayna’s body, stopping longer at her breasts. She feels Ayna’s hands focused on the curves of her ass and inner thighs. She sighs deeply.

“I can't wait any longer. I want to touch you."

"Well, go ahead."

But it's like the answer fell on deaf ears. "I need to."

Guiding Kennedy’s hand lower on her body, Ayna says "Yes, please."

Kennedy did, and it was everything and more. She was intoxicated by everything Ayna: the warmth of her lips, the floral scent of her perfume, the sweet sounds that came out of her mouth in the form of whimpers and moans, the softness of her most sensitive places. It was all so beautiful. She moves so her mouth can join her hand, and soon Ayna's labored breaths increase in rate and intensity at Kennedy's ministrations, letting Kennedy feel she's coming closer and closer to the edge.

“Ayna, look at me." Kennedy all but demanded. "I want you to look at me while I bring you over the edge."

"Oh, fuck... yes!” Ayna struggles to mumble, panting heavily as she complied and locked eyes with Kennedy. The young woman focus on her fingers strokes against the TA’s center, and she can tell it’s taking all Ayna has not to close her eyes again as she arches her back, riding out her pleasure. Kennedy felt on cloud nine.

“That was... it was...” Ayna tries to say, struggling to catch her breath.

“Tell me.” Kennedy asks as she plants a chaste kiss in Ayna’s shoulder, easing the woman down from her high.

When Ayna finally catches her breath, she answers affectionately, “No one has ever made me feel like this.”

Kennedy feels every one of her heartstrings being pulled again. This seemed like a common occurrence this night. This is going to be the death of me. But before she could dwell longer on this, Ayna was moving on top of her.

“Well, may I touch you now?”

“Yes, please.” Kennedy answers with a smirk that is quickly wiped from her face as Ayna’s lips find her neck, sucking on her pulse point, eliciting a moan from her.

Ayna is so tender Kennedy feels like she understands now why it's called "making love". Oh shit, I am in love with her too, aren't I? Well, should I? And at the worst possible moment, her mind decides to play tricks on her. This is when it chose to wander back, again, to that horrifying experience, as well as the crushing pain that followed through at the realization of Ayna's betrayal. And now she feels Ayna going lower and lower, trailing her mouth down Kennedy’s stomach, then her navel, as she kept her downward path.Oh my god, no, this is too much. I can't handle it.

“A-Ayna.”

“Hmmm.”

“Ayna, wait.”

Ayna halts immediately. “What? What is it?”

“I’m not- I’m not ready for...” Kennedy is struggling to get her words out, and she prays Ayna understands what she's trying to say.

In a flash, Ayna's face is back up, staring right at Kennedy as she brings one hand to caress Kennedy's face, the other propping her up. “Hey, it’s ok. You can tell me anything you want or don’t want, ok? We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with."

“I’m just not ready for you to... go down there,” Kennedy admits begrudgingly, avoiding Ayna’s gaze.

“Of course. We can snuggle all night instead if that’s what you prefer.”

Oh for crying out loud! Of course, Ayna had to be the gentlest and most respectful even when faced with rejection in the very throes of passion. The war raging inside Kennedy was exhausting her completely. She knew she said she wanted it, and she meant every word. Objectively, she knew the truth about her feelings, she just didn’t think she’d have to own up to them so soon. Love, was it? Ayna was looking at her every inch understanding, not one bit judgemental or mad, and Kennedy wondered how great their relationship would've turned out if she was just the average girl, not the First Daughter of Rutherland, and if she could've always been met with that sweet and understanding Ayna, not the lying and deceitful one. She wanted so much to trust Ayna again, wholeheartedly, she wanted to feel her touch, she wanted to be loved, she just really wanted to just let go.

“Or you could... use your fingers?” she finally finds her voice, unable to not want to feel Ayna all over her.

“Yes, I can do that,” Ayna says, and to comply, she slowly brings her hands over Kennedy's center, looking for any sign of objection but finding none. “Like this?”

“Yesss, just like that.”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yes.”

Ayna kisses Kennedy pouring her everything into it, and Kennedy feels it for what it was. If transcribed into words, it would probably say ”Please, forgive me. Please, let’s start again”.

Kennedy knows Ayna is following her lead, but she needs more. She knows Ayna won’t do anything she doesn’t signal that she wants. So with one hand she holds Ayna’s hand in place, and with the other she guides Ayna’s head towards one of her breasts.

And that felt so good, it was like she was being thoroughly consumed. A powerful desire to simply belong to Ayna begins to rise from deep within Kennedy’s heart, overriding any sick trick her mind was attempting to throw at her. She needed to know what that felt like.

“I need to... to feel you... inside.”

It was impossible for that request not to be met with compliance, so Ayna slid one finger through Kennedy’s opening, and then another, and with each thrust, she is taken closer and closer to that point of infinite bliss.

The part of her who still had some lingering doubts was being thoroughly massacred, and as much as Kennedy feared it, she was also glad to see it go. Even if it tried to tell her to be smarter, to draw a line, to keep away from Ayna and all the potential heartache she represented, none of that was enough to make her stop feeling everything else this woman made her feel, and loving Ayna felt so, so much better.

So in between ragged breaths and with a strained voice, she can’t stop herself from saying “I love you.”

Ayna buries her head into Kennedy’s neck, her movements gaining a boost of energy as she picks up her pace. When she feels Kennedy slipping into oblivion, she curls her fingers to draw it out as much as possible.

“Let it go, Kennedy. Let go for me.”

“Yes... oh god, yes.” Yes, let’s please just start again.

Kennedy’s whole world goes spinning as a thousand stars explode right behind her eyes and she cries out in ecstasy, letting go of everything.

She gets back from her high and is met with the sight of a very smiling Ayna lying on her stomach. “How are you feeling?” Ayna asks grinning lopsidedly.

Honestly? “So fucking liberated.”

That prompts laughter out of Ayna and Kennedy loves the sound of it. “Well, I love the enthusiasm”.

They snuggle close together, Kennedy now resting her head in Ayna’s chest, while the TA drapes her arms around the younger woman’s shoulders, “And you. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And there it is again, the infectious grin in Ayna’s face. God, this woman is beautiful.

They spend a few minutes enjoying the quiet together, occasionally offering small kisses, lacing hands together and exchanging soft caresses, until Ayna asks, “Can you stay tonight?”

Kennedy stiffens. "I don’t think that would be a very good idea.”

“Oh, ok. I understand.”

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Hey, it’s ok, Kennedy, really. Tonight’s been a crazy ride, your mother’s still campaigning and the Peace Summit is right around the corner. I really understand.” She then adds a little sheepishly, “Can you stay for a few more minutes?”

“Yeah, but just a few more minutes."

"I'll take it," Ayna answers with a small genuine grin, diffusing the situation, and they settle against one another again, each lost in their own thoughts as to what this night represented. As messy as her feelings had been, Kennedy was thankful this happened. It felt so good to be nested comfortably in Ayna's arms, she just had to hold on to this feeling and let her heart heal.

After many more minutes, Kennedy moves, mumbling quietly, "I should go."

Ayna places a kiss on Kennedy’s forehead and disentangles herself from the younger woman. “Ok.”

Kennedy jumps out of bed searching for her scattered clothes while Ayna puts on a robe. Once they’re both redressed and composed, the TA laces her fingers with Kennedy's as she leads them towards the apartment door.

“Tonight was pretty great,” Kennedy said once they reached the door, feeling like offering Ayna reassurance. She didn't want the TA to be fretting all night long as she had a feeling this is just what might happen.

“Yeah, it was.”

“I know we still have things to work through, but... I do want this, I promise." Kennedy holds both Ayna's hands in her own and waves their joined hands for extra effect, "This won’t be gone by the morning.”

Ayna's face light up in a huge smile. "For as long as you’re willing to not close the door on us, I’m going to do everything I can to show you can trust me again." She leans in to steal one last kiss. “I’m all in, Kennedy. I love you.”

“I love you too. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.”

With that Kennedy leaves, heart full of hope. Who said burnt bridges can't be rebuilt? This time around, maybe it'll be much stronger, and no amount of fire would be able to burn it down.

[sfthearts]

Numb

This was a request in my DM’s and I took a little time with it because I try to be really careful with writing mental health things, especially when it’s not something I’ve often experienced. Mostly, I just went off their request and description, and did not take much creative liberty. All this being said, I think this might require a TW? Very mental health centric, discusses not eating due to stress, etc...

Here is a GIF of Brendon being cute that has nothing to do with the story, so enjoy.

You had been very open with Brendon about your mental health from the get-go, as was he with his own, and he was well aware of what happened when you became too overwhelmed. Unfortunately, because you absolutely hated pouring your problems out for him to deal with, he usually didn’t know when it was happening to you. You always tried to carry everything yourself, hiding your struggles and stresses from him and for the most part, you succeeded. Brendon hated that you would never let him help you, but he didn’t want to push.

Today, everything had just become too much all at once, and you could feel yourself shutting down. You felt sick. You hadn’t been eating much lately because you were so stressed, you’d been drinking little to no water, and overall just not taking care of yourself. You knew you weren’t okay, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything about it. You laid down in your shared bed, hoping that taking a break from working on your latest project would help you get back on track. You stared blankly at the ceiling, you couldn’t even cry. Everything was just numb. You really didn’t know how long you had been there, nor did you hear or realize it when Brendon arrived home and began calling your name. He finally finds you laying on the bed, and rushes over.

“Baby? What happened?” He said softly, as he sits on the edge of the bed next to you. You wouldn’t look at him, you just shook your head and kept your eyes locked on the fan in the center of the ceiling. You feel him grab your hand in his and squeeze it.

“Baby, Angel, please talk to me. I just want to help you, please let me help you.” He said, his voice breaking slightly. You still weren’t looking, but you could hear that he was about to cry. You knew he was scared, he’d confessed this to you in the past when this happened. That was one of the reasons you didn’t like to push your problems on him, you hated seeing him upset, and especially upset because of you.

He speaks again, and you hear that he’s speaking, but your brain just blocks it out.

He sighs, knowing you aren’t ready to speak yet, and lays down next to you after a few moments of your silence. His hand finds yours again and he holds it tight.

Eventually, you tear your eyes from the ceiling and look over at him, and see that his are still glossy.

“Hi. Are you ready to tell me what’s been going on up there?” He asks, and you know from his tone that he doesn’t mean it in a bad way. He’s genuinely asking if you’re ready. You shake your head no.

“Ok. That’s ok. Can I just hold you for a bit then?”

He knows eventually you’ll be able to talk to him, but for now he’s being patient and understands that this is what you can handle right now.

You nod, and he opens his arms up for you. You don’t move, so he grabs you and pulls you into him. Your ear is pressed to his chest, and you can hear his heart beating steadily.

He rhythmically strokes his hand up and down your back, as he thinks only of how he wishes he could make you feel better. He absentmindedly kisses the top of your head a few times, but mostly you just lay there with his hand on your back, focusing on breathing.

After a little while, he feels a teardrop land on his chest, then more, and he cranes his neck back a bit to look at you. You make eye contact and the look in his eyes is all it takes for you to completely break. He looks so sad and scared and it breaks your heart into pieces. Heaving sobs wrack your body as Brendon holds you tightly, telling you it’s okay, he's here, and he’s got you. This was truthfully what he had been waiting for, because he knows he can help you through it now that he got you out of your trance.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I love you.” you sob, over and over again.

His heart breaks, hearing you plead for his forgiveness like this when, in his mind, there was nothing to forgive. He just holds you and continues whispering reassurances in your ear for a while, until you finally begin to calm down. You sniffle as he rubs your back soothingly, and you reach to wipe the tears soaking your face, taking a deep, shuddering breath. You sit up, and so does he. You look him in the eyes again. He no longer looked so scared, which you’re glad about.

“Welcome back. Are you okay?” He asks softly, knowing the truth.

You nod at first, quietly squeaking out “yeah, I’m fine.”

He gives you a look, and you change your answer.

“I’m not okay” you whisper.

“I know you aren’t, angel. What can I do to help you? You know I’ll do anything. Please just tell me what’s been going on with you.” He asks, moving a piece of hair behind your ear. You sigh, knowing you wouldn’t be able to push it under the rug and hide from him any longer.

“Everything is just so hard right now. I feel like I’m pushing you and all my friends away, all I do is work and it’s been hell, nothing’s going right and I just- it’s so hard. I feel like shit. I’m sorry. I hate telling you this stuff because I don’t want you to get upset or hurt your feelings. I know I scare you, I’m so sorry.” you finally confess.

“Oh baby,” he whispers, pulling you back into him for a hug as he continues. “Please don’t apologize, I always want you to know that you can tell me anything, no matter what. The thing that hurts my feelings is when you don’t think you can talk to me. I’M sorry if I EVER made you feel like you couldn’t. I love you, I want to help you, and I want to take care of you, but I can’t do that when you keep everything bottled up in that beautiful head of yours until we end up here.” He says as he hugs you, kissing the top of your head.

“I know. I’m sorry.” You tell him.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, love. Just know that I’m here for you, okay? Always come to me before it gets too bad so I can help?”

“Okay. I love you so much.” You whisper.

He gently places a finger under your chin and kisses you softly. It was short but sweet, and it was what you needed to ground you in the moment.

He cups your cheeks in his hand as you look into his soft eyes.

“I love you so much too. I’m making a promise. My promise to you is to try harder to notice when you’re getting stressed, will you promise you’ll open up a little more to me?”

You nod as best as you can with your face still in his hands and tell him you promise.

“Good. Seal it with a kiss?” He says, a small smile now on his face.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re just using this as an excuse to kiss me again.”

His smile grows larger now.

“Guilty, now come here my love”

[notgonnarememberthis]

find your way (back to me) - chapter seven

This update is a little more toned down than usual but don’t worry, this isn’t the end. This is only a bridge to act 2. My best friend and I have come up with a handful of devious ideas to still throw into the mix. I’m super excited to jump into the next portion and even more so by Prodigal Son returning in less than a week. Let me know what y’all think!!

“It doesn’t make sense.” Gil moves his gaze from Jessica in her hospital bed to Malcolm, pacing across the small room. Ainsley sits on the chair, eyes trained on mother and chewing on her nail but she nods almost absentmindedly at his statement. He’s been on this rant for an hour. Each second he grows more agitated. “When she came in she was angry Gil. Ask Ainsley, she was screaming ‘where is he’ and waving the knife.”

The unspoken sentence lingers between the siblings with a single gaze. I’ve never seen her like that. It’s not a shock, Jessica composed her anger around them, he remembers one instance. Where a poor reporter thought that ambushing her for an exclusive was a good idea. All while he had taken them out one lonely Christmas only 2 years after Martin’s imprisonment. She’d been icely polite until the man turned to Malcolm, asking him how he felt. Still her smile remained, at least until Gil coaxed the children away with the promise of hot chocolate and sweets. 

That night she looked lighter than she had in months.

“She didn’t see me.” Malcolm admits, maybe for the first time with the fear threaded in his voice. Ainsley’s eyes flash to him, concern twisting her brows. Gil knows that sight will haunt his nightmares for a while. “It wasn’t hallucinations. She knew where she was.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. But she sidestepped the divet in the tile that she almost twisted her ankle on last month.” Malcolm rakes both hands through his hair in frustration. “She knew she was at the precinct.”

“What about when she collapsed?” Gil speaks up now. “She begged me to find ‘him’ and said she got him out.” Malcolm pivots again, his pace picking up as his mind races. “She had to be talking about another victim.”

Ainsley’s breath catches then, a light flashing in her head. “What if she was talking about two different people?”

Malcolm gapes, Gil sees him swallow the lump that formed in his throat. “You think she saw the killers?” She nods turning back to Jessica. She takes her mother’s hand pressing her lips to her knuckles.

It’d been hours since the surgeries. The surgeons had successfully removed the bullet from her abdomen but infection was their main concern. The warnings of the extent of brain injury lingers on all of their minds. They won’t know more until she wakes. 

If she wakes.

Gil shakes his head at the thought. He won’t allow himself to think like that yet. Not with Malcolm and Ainsley in the same room, minds haunted all the same. “You two, go get food.” They both protest but he shuts them down with a single look. “Get me-”

“Black coffee.” The two nod in unison bringing a small smile to his lips. As they leave Gil allows the events to weigh on him. He runs his thumb across her scraped jaw biting the inside of his cheek. “Come on Jess.” He whispers into the room. “You gotta help us now. We can’t do this without you.”

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The incessant beeping is what pulls Jessica above the surface again. The first thing she realizes is that she feels very heavy. Her eyes don’t want to open, distantly she hears Gil’s voice calling to her.

It comes back all at once. Her escape, Freddy, collapsing into Gil’s arms. She hums, testing her voice. It aches and makes her feel like she needs to cough but she feels it rumble in her chest. Finally, her eyes open. It hurts like hell, blinking the dimmed room into focus. He leans over her, a smile on his face.

“Hey Jess.” He looks to the door. A thought crosses his mind before turning back to her. “Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital.” Detest laces her tone even through her slurred speech. She hated hospitals as a kid, then Martin came into her life. She grew an appreciation, and then hated them again in a twisted cycle. She cranes her head searching the room, “Where?”

“Ainsley and Malcolm went to get food. They’ve got Dani and JT with them as details.” She relaxes, tempted to fall back into the darkness knowing they are safe. “Do you want me to call them?”

She shakes her head, knowing Malcolm he’s been working for days straight, hardly a meal in between. If he’s getting food, then he needs to eat. “How long have I been out?”

“About 9 hours.”

“That’s the most I’ve slept in 20 years.” She jokes. The fogginess clears a little and she remembers. “Freddy.” She turns to Gil who immediately puts his hands on her shoulders.

“Hey easy.” His eyes jump to the heart monitor, the beeping increasing significantly. “Take it easy Jess. Is Freddy who you were trying to tell me about?”

She nods frantically. “I woke up and he was there. I cut us both out but he wanted to split up.” Guilt punches her in the chest. “We split up. I didn’t want to but he said it was our best chance. I heard a man scream and I ran.” The air feels too thin suddenly and the beeping just keeps getting louder.

“Jessica, look at me.” Her jaw snaps shut and she does. “Breathe with me.” He takes a deep breath in. She would laugh if panic wasn’t gripping her ribcage painfully. “Remember?” She nods slightly following his steps.

Panic attacks had become a frequency after Martin. Gil had found her stuck in the middle of them more than she cares to admit. She holds her breath, her head swimming. Letting it out ebbs the panic though the guilt still gnaws painfully. 

“Do you know where they held you? Do you remember?”

“Beverly Construction. The apartment complex being built, the one I was telling you about that I was thinking of bidding on.”

“Good.” He runs his thumb over her knuckles. “Do you remember anything else?”

“Yes.” She opens her mouth but the thoughts won’t piece together. There are images in her head but none of them make sense. The wreck, glass flying everywhere and the smell of smoke burning her nose. The darkness before being overwhelmed by white light. The glint of the knife reflecting her terrified gaze back at her.

“It’s ok. You’re still coming out of sedation. It may take a while.” She wants to cry. She knows she saw more. She knows more. “I’ll text Colette and her men will scan the construction site. They may not be there anymore but they may have left something behind.” She wishes it was enough.

“Mom?” Ainsley’s voice makes her head whip to the door. Her daughter’s lower lip trembles, “Mom?” In three steps she’s to her bed, the box of food thrown carelessly into the chair as she kneels by her side. Jessica tries to reach out to her but her arm only flips, the meds still battling her every effort to stay awake. Ainsley grabs her hand guiding it to her cheek so that Jessica’s fingers tangle into the blonde curls.

“Mom.” Malcolm’s whisper is almost immediately after Ainsley’s. Gil scoots aside allowing him room. He takes the food and coffee out of her son’s hands before they can slip to the floor in his rush to get to her. He mimics Ainsley’s actions but pulls her other hand to his lips, she feels his smile on the back of her hand. Tears of relief sting her eyes. 

“Hi.” She smiles at them both, her fingers brushing their skin. They’re safe, they’re here with her. She did it, she made it back to her family. She wipes away Malcolm’s tears as they come down his face despite his careful control. Ainsley tips first burying her head into her shoulder. Her hand is pinned, caught in her daughters grasp but she can’t bring herself to care.

Over their shoulders she spies Gil. With one look he comes closer, with one hand on Malcolm’s shoulders and the other on her head he joins the family embrace. Her guilt still weighs on her. She’s missing something, something important is gone.

Right now, though, her family is enough. They are enough.

[rocksandrobots]

Of Rocks and Robots Ch. 7 - Stories

Varian sat in the spacious den surrounded by piles and piles of books; comic books to be specific. Today was the last day of spring break and Varian was visiting Fred. All of their other friends were busy preparing for tomorrow, but Fred didn’t go to any of the actual classes. He only worked part-time as the school’s mascot, so he had the day free and wanted to teach Varian more about his hobby. 

Varian, for his part, was simply bored. He had agreed to meet with Fred since he had spent so much of the last week studying and wanted a break before starting classes for real, but the pages of illustrated stories, about people with god-like powers, just didn’t really interest him. 

It made him feel a little guilty really. Fred was so passionate about his interest, much like how Varian enjoyed science, and Varian appreciated that the older teen cared enough to try and include him in that. However, it didn’t stop him from zoning out while Fred rambled on about yet another story or character that Varian had no reference for. 

He looked about the room with half-lidded eyes as he rested his face upon his fist. Fred lived in a large mansion. It wasn’t quite as big as Corona’s palace, nor even the size of the castle he grew up in, but it was still very grand and luxurious. Various memorabilia and expensive décor were scattered about and the room he was in now had tons of unique statues, toys, and posters on display referencing various things within pop culture. He assumed they would make for an impressive collection, if he knew what any of them actually were. 

“….and so that is how Captain Fancy teamed up with the Fearless Ferret!"  

Varian tuned back in just in time to hear Fred conclude his story. 

"Oh, yeah, yeah, that’s real interesting” Varian yawned and stretched as he said this, giving away his true feelings on the matter. Then he tried to course correct as soon as he did so. 

“Look, Fred, this is all…great, but wouldn't it be better if I just, you know, actually read the stories for myself?” He gently suggested. 

“Oh, yeah…I guess I kind of got carried away.” Fred admitted sheepishly. “Ok, then, what did you think about the comics that you’ve read already?” He sat down, facing backwards, upon a swivel office chair as he referred to the two comics that he had bought for Varian on his first day in San Fansokyo. 

“They were fine.” Varian said. 

Fred leaned in closer, waiting for more but Varian didn’t elaborate. 

“Fine? Just fine? You don’t got anything else to add?”

Varian could only shrug in response. He didn’t know what else to say. They were okay stories but not anything to get excited over. They were certainly no Flynn Rider, that was for sure. 

“Well what about Miracle Maiden? What did you think of her?" 

That was one of the superheroes from the comic he had read. She was a princess from the deep Amazon rain-forest who took an ancient magic spear and armor and traveled from her home to fight against those that wanted to destroy it, helping others along the way. 

"Well, she was neat, I guess.” Varian admitted. “I liked how she was also figuring out how the world worked since she’d never left home before. That made her kind of relatable, I just didn’t care for the magic armor giving her super strength. It made her too unbeatable, no one was a real threat; there was no tension."  

Fred tilted his head in confusion. He’d never considered that to be a flaw. Superheroes were supposed to be well, super, after all. 

"Oookay, so maybe OP golden age style comics aren’t your thing.” Fred consented, “What about the dark aged comic you read, ‘The Avenger’?" 

"Oh, I liked that one a lot better. The hero in that had to really struggle and figure stuff out. He didn’t have any powers and the villains were more believable." 

"I’d call him more of an anti-hero,” Fred interrupted, “but go on." 

The story in question concerned an ex-soldier whose family had been murdered by a rich and powerful man. The villain had used his influence to escape prison and so 'The Avenger’, as he called himself, sought vengeance and along the way helped other poor exploited people get their own revenge against similar oppressors. 

"He was relatable too, but in a different way. I just thought the pictures were a little too…graphic.” Varian grimaced as he said that last word. He had always disliked the sight of blood and while the images in the book had only been drawings, they nevertheless were still very in-your-face with the violence and somewhat disturbing to look at. He hadn’t been able to get through the comic without skipping some pages.

“You found a guy, who kills a whole bunch of people, relatable?” Fred asked slowly, trying to piece together what Varian had seen that he had not. 

“Well, he lost his family.” Varian said in his defense. 

“Yeeeah, but that just makes him sympathetic. In order for him to be relatable you’d also have to have lost … your… ” Fred paused in mid-sentence and looked at the young boy sitting across from himself. Varian held an unreadable expression, something between a pout and a confused glare, and something inside Fred warned him not to continue with that thought. 

“Aaaannyways,” Fred said, trying to change the subject, “you like non-super powered heroes, but no gore, so why don’t I lend you one of my Fearless Ferret comics.” And with that the blonde teen hopped up off the chair and went scrounging about the room in search of said book. 

As he was throwing various comics and toys around in his quest, Fred tossed a small hardback novel that landed right at Varian’s feet. He had to move them out the way quickly before the flying object could do any harm. He looked down at the offending book rudely, but then his breath caught in his throat at what he saw. 

The novel was battered and worn from years of use and the title read The Brothers Grimm on the side. But what caught Varian’s attention was the cover on its front. It bore the image of a girl in a crumbling tower. She sat at the only window forlornly looking out as her long golden hair tumbled down to the ground below. 

“Rapunzel.” Varian breathed. 

“What?” Fred stopped what he was doing at the sound, but Varian had whispered too low for him to hear it clearly. 

“What is this?” Varian asked frantically. His heart pounding in his chest he held up the book for Fred to see. 

“Oh that? That’s just an old book of fairy tales I read as a kid." 

"Fairy tales?" 

"Yeah, you know, old folk tales, like Little Red Riding Hood, Rumpelstiltskin, Hansel and Gretel,” Fred turned back to his original search as he absentmindedly listed off the stories he knew, “The Bremen Town Musicians, Rapunzel, that sort of thing." 

Varian’s eyes went wide at that last title and he tore open the book and desperately flipped through its pages until he found the accursed name. It was printed in big bold letters at the top of the page and underneath was the story itself printed in smaller type. On the opposite page was another illustration. This one featured the titled character using her hair like a rope as a man used it to scale the tower. They were both dressed in clothing from centuries past that would have been considered old fashioned even in Varian’s own time.

Varian just stared at the page for a minute or two as his brain tried to comprehend what he was seeing. 

"This, this can’t be.” He whispered to himself, “How is this here? Why is this here?” He grew increasingly louder as his confusion gave away to anger. “How come she gets a story!? " 

He jumped up from the couch he was sitting upon as he yelled this last question, which finally drew Fred’s attention away from his rummaging. 

"You ok dude?" 

"No, I’m not okay! That no-good, lying, boil-brained, misbegotten, dizzy-eyed, promise breaker has been immortalized in print!” He yelled before glancing back down at the book he was holding, “And they didn’t even get the story right!” He whined after. 

Fred could only look on in confusion as Varian launched into another rant. This one about the inaccuracies within the folk tale as he sped read through the story; “Where’s the flower? Where are the rocks? Ha! I wish the King knew he was portrayed as a dirty thief. Eugene’s not a prince! Ew, I don’t why but having your eyes gouged out sounds worse than getting stabbed. Does Rapunzel not have powers in this?”

As he was busy loudly complaining, a viewing screen up on the opposite wall turned on and the image of an old man appeared. He had slicked backed white hair, a white mustache, and his eyes were covered by sunglasses. 

“Is everything alright son?” The man queried. “I thought I heard the sound of someone shouting an evil monologue over the surveillance system?" 

"Oh hey, Dad!” Fred turned to address the viewing screen while Varian continued on, heedless of who was listening or not, “It’s okay. It’s just my new friend Varian here is apparently really passionate about fairy tales." 

"Really? Cause he sounds like a super-villain to me.”

“Aww naw, you got it all wrong he’s just upset cause he doesn’t like the story.” As if to prove this, Fred turned back to Varian interrupting him mid-rant. “Hey, Varian, why do you hate Rapunzel so much?" 

Varian stopped and turned to them. His eyes narrowed into an intense glare and his voice dropped to low guttural growl. 

"She is my mortal enemy.” He said darkly. 

He held their gaze for a moment or two in uneasy silence, before once again noticing yet another inaccuracy upon the page. “Oh, that’s not right!” and he launched into a new wave of angry ranting. 

As he went on, outraged, father and son could only look on in perturbed confusion. 

“Are you sure he’s not a super-villain?” Mr. Fredrickson asked, neither of them being able to tear their eyes away from the sight of the small raged filled teen. 

“Preeety sure…” his son replied in a tone of voice that conveyed that he was anything but. 

Fred continued to watch Varian raving as his brain tried to process what had just happened.

“Waaait a minute, if you know the real Rapunzel, then that must mean you’re from a world of fairy tales.” He slowly said as he pieced together the clues. “Which means there must be magic and if there’s magic then there must be..” Fred audibly gasped with joy and ran to Varian, grabbing the younger boy by the shoulders and snapping him out of mid-rant. 

“Do you have dragons in your world!? " 

Varian could only look back at Fred with surprise at first. "What? No!” he snapped back. 

Here he was, in the middle of having an existential crisis, and all his friend could do was ask about mythical creatures? 

“There’s no such thing as dragons.” He firmly added before Fred could protest. The older teen looked crestfallen but soon perked back up as he started in on a new line of questioning. 

“But there is magic, right?" 

"Unfortunately, yes.” Varian said through gritted teeth. 

“Are you magic then?” Fred asked, as he circled around Varian and picked up his arm by its sleeve and inspected the length of it. 

“No.” Varian answered, now disturbed. 

“Then how come you got that blue streak in your hair? Do all people from your world have that?" 

Varian looked up at his bangs and then quickly covered said streak with his free hand. "No.” He said, this time less assured. 

In truth he didn’t know where his defining blue hair stripe came from. He had had it for as long as he could remember, and had always assumed he got it in an alchemy accident when young. But he didn’t know for sure, and he didn’t like to dwell too much on the subject. 

“Oh do you know anyone who has magic, then? Like, do you know any other fairy tale people, like Red Riding Hood or Mother Goose? Oh Jack from Jack and the Beanstalk was always one of my favorites!” Fred pressed on. 

“No!" 

Fred backed away at the sudden ferociously in Varian’s voice. 

"My life’s not a fairy tale Fred!” Varian added just to drive the point home. 

“Sorry, man.” Fred said timidly. He hadn’t meant to upset the younger teen, but he knew he could sometimes get carried away. 

Varian’s anger all but disappeared at that admission. Fred looked genuinely upset and he suddenly felt guilty for his outburst. It wasn’t his new friend’s fault for not knowing what hell his life had been for the last two years. 

“Look, I’m…I’m sorry too, it’s just…I hate magic. Okay?” He tried to explain.

Fred looked thoughtful at that, as if he had never considered that point of view before. 

“Well, if you hate magic…Oh I bet you would love science fiction then!” He exclaimed. 

Varian looked bewildered at the sudden change in subject, but Fred continued on excitedly. 

“We should watch the greatest sci-fi show ever!” Fred ran over to a shelf and pulled off a small thin case and held it up for Varian to see, “Professor What!" 

"What?” Varian asked, still confused.

“Exactly! It’s about a mysterious professor, who’s really a shape-shifting alien, who has a time machine that’s also a spaceship and he fights other aliens and…”

“Okay, okay” Varian interrupted. He agreed to go along with Fred’s idea if nothing else than to stop the older teen from launching into yet another confusing ramble. 

Fred flashed Varian a wide grin at that and then bid his father goodbye before opening the case and inserting a small shiny disc into the viewer screen. He then dimmed the lights and both he and Varian settled down on the couch to watch the video. 

“We’ll just watch the first episode and then go from there.” He said to Varian as odd sounding music filtered through the air and the opening titles flashed before them on the screen. But Varian wasn’t paying much attention. 

His mind raced as he was still agitated by the existence of the book. He couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t even a case of being an alternate version of Rapunzel herself. Fred had acted like the whole story was simply just made up. As if he, himself, was nothing but fiction. What’s more the story hadn't mention him, his father, nor the rocks and he didn’t know if this made the situation better or worse. 

He took a steadying breath and tried to focus on the screen ahead of him, shoving any uncomfortable questions to the back of his mind. 

The tv show was more of the moving pictures he had seen on the internet. Only this looked to be a recording of a staged play instead of the simple funny shorts of animals that he had only seen thus far. There was also no color, which Fred explained was because the film was so old. 

The story of the play concerned two school teachers, Cliff and Lola, who followed their new mysterious student home one day, only to stumble upon a bigger mystery. The student, Sue, reminded him of himself. She was super smart but ignorant of what was, to the teachers, common knowledge and it was no surprise when it was revealed that both she and her equally mysterious grandfather, the titular Professor, were from another world. What was a surprise was the way they traveled. 

The two teachers forced their way into a small box, no bigger than a magician’s cabinet, only to find a larger room on the inside. Said box was called a phone booth, which used to be used by people before cell phones came about, but the inside was called a STARDIS, a Space, Time, And Relative Dimensions Imperial Ship.

“You mean to tell me that a thing that looks like a phone booth, sitting in the middle of a scrapheap, can travel anywhere through time and space?” He heard the science teacher, Cliff, say incredulously before the impish Professor mischievously pressed a button on the console of the machine, locking the doors and turning the ship on. 

A swirl of stars and flashing lights appeared on screen, and like a magic trick, the box was no longer in a junkyard but an icy desert. A looming shadow then appeared and the screen cut to black as the odd music from before started to play and names flew up on the screen. 

“What, what happened? Why did it stop?” Varian asked Fred. He was just starting to get interested when it had ended. 

“Oh that was only the first episode, you gotta watch multiple in order to get the whole story." 

"You mean like chapters in a book? Can, can we watch the next one?" 

"You mean you like it?” Fred asked delightedly. 

“Well I don’t dislike it, besides I’d at least like to know what that shadow was.” Varian admitted. 

So they watched the next three parts. The group of time travelers had been transported to an ancient era, back when man still lived in caves. They were captured by a tribe and forced to make fire for them, all the while being caught in the middle of an ongoing power struggle for leadership. Varian didn’t find the politics of the cavemen particularly interesting but he did find himself on the edge of his seat whenever the STARDIS crew were on screen. 

He found them all compelling. The shifty Professor and his grey morals, doing whatever he could to survive and keep his granddaughter safe; Sue’s own fear of being separated from her only family and her mysterious ability for premonitions; Lola’s homesickness and exasperation at being cut off from civilization paired with her compassion for all living beings, even her oppressors; and the noble hero Cliff holding the team together while adhering to science and logic even while having his entire world view challenged.

In the last part they finally escaped the violent cavemen and made it back to the ship. They quickly took off, only to land on another planet entirely. The screen hovered over the console and a dial on the dashboard dropped down into the danger zone indicating all was not well before once again cutting to black and playing the ending credits. 

“Welp, that’s it!” Fred cheered. He stood up and stretched and went to take the disc out and put it up. 

“That’s it!?” Varian asked disbelievingly. “But what about that new planet and the dial? Do Cliff and Lola ever get home? How was Sue able to sense that her grandfather was in trouble? Also why is he only called the Professor? Does he not have a name? Where did he get the ship? Did he build it? Is he a scientist too like Cliff is?” The questions tumbled out of him in a jumble. He had never seen anything like it before and couldn’t remember being so excited to find out more since the time he read his first Flynn Rider book.

Fred laughed, “So you do like it! Don’t worry there’s more episodes, just that’s the end of that particular serial. The next one is a seven parter though, and you got school tomorrow, remember?" 

Varian did remember and his stomach did a little flip flop at the thought. 

"I tell you what though,” Fred continued, “I’ve always wanted to do a marathon of the whole show in order. If you’re still interested we could maybe meet up sometimes and watch it together?" 

Varian had never had a project that he could do with a friend before, nor someone to share his love of stories with, so the idea appealed to him. Therefore it was agreed; sometime next week they would meet up to watch the next serial and then possibly one day every week after that to watch the rest. 

So the day ended with Fred dropping Varian back off at the dorms and with him organizing his things for his first day of school. His excitement for tomorrow drove  away any more thoughts of comics, tv shows, or fairy tales. Stories were fun, but none compared to the weirdness of his actual life.

[myhockeyworld87]

Choices - Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn - Part 5

Word Count: 2086

POV: Starts with Tyler/Ends with Reader

Warnings: Talk to miscarriage, language

Notes: Ok here is the next installment with the choice that you guys picked. You have 48 hours to vote (Friday at 3pm). For all the US readers, I hope you all have a Happy Thanksgiving! Enjoy the Black Friday shopping! Peace, Love and Hugs all!

TYLER’S POV

 As you waited patiently for (Y/N) to answer your questions, your mind began to wander. You could picture it clearly, a tiny little girl. She’d have your soft brunette curls atop her head, but (Y/N)’s eyes and nose; and definitely (Y/N)’s smile. Your little girl would be just over a year-old right now. Part of you realized you missed a lot of firsts, the first time she rolled over, her first steps, her first words; vaguely, you wondered if she could say daddy, if not, it would be something you could teach her. Spoiling her rotten would be high on your list of things to do. She was going to be your little princess, and there was nothing in this world she couldn’t have.

 Then again, it could be a little boy. He’d have your devilish grin; but (Y/N)’s amazingly sweet personality. He’d probably love the dogs; they’d be his best friends. You could already see him, waddling after Gerry outside; the two of them playing in a mud puddle. You couldn’t wait to teach him how to skate, a little hockey stick in his hand, as he toddled around the living room. No matter if it was a boy or a girl you’d love them with all your heart. This was a life that you and (Y/N) created together, and you couldn’t wait to start being a family.

 (Y/N) still had a blank stare in her eyes. Of course you were somewhat upset that she hadn’t told you about the baby; but you weren’t going to blame her. What mattered now, was that you were here, and so were she and the baby; and now you could all be a family. Though you knew Jamie would be hurt, by (Y/N) being with you; he’d eventually move on and find someone else, who he could start a family with.

 All this waiting was getting to you. You had to know more about your child. “(Y/N), where’s the baby? Can we go see them now?”

 Jamie squeezed her hand, which you found odd. (Y/N) opened her mouth, yet no words came out. Finally after a few attempts, she said; “Tyler, I lost the baby.” What did she mean by that? Like she didn’t know where the baby was. You assumed your face must have given you away for the next thing that came out of her mouth was. “I had a miscarriage.”

 The reality of her words hit you like a ton of bricks. All those dreams and images that were in your mind, were just wiped away. It was like being blindsided and slammed into the boards so hard, that you weren’t sure you were going to get up from the hit. Physically you staggered back a bit before saying. “When? How? Why didn’t you tell me?”

 “I did tell you.” Had she, you didn’t remember; but after that night you hadn’t taken a pain pill or had a drink until you spoke to her. “You called me…like what a hundred times? When I finally answered; I told you then.”

 You tried to get your mind to focus on that first conversation with (Y/N). It was somewhat hazy, but you remember her saying ‘I lost it’ several times. “Wait…is that what you were trying to tell me when you said ‘I lost it?’” Tears were streaming down her face now, she must be recalling that day. “I thought you meant lost it when you saw the video and the photo. I never thought that you meant you lost the baby, because I didn’t remember you telling me about it.” God, you had been so obliterated that night. “Jesus…no wonder you hate me.”

 “Tyler, I don’t hate you.”

 This was too much, you couldn’t take it. The high of thinking you had a baby with (Y/N); had just been crushed by the knowledge that you were the one to make (Y/N) lose your baby. “Fuck, I hate myself right now. How can you not?” The pain you were experiencing right now was making it hard to breathe. You had to get out of here. Stumbling out of the room, you ran as soon as you could find the front door; slightly aware of a voice calling your name.

  READER’S POV

 The hurt in Tyler’s eyes, mirrored your own. When you told him that you had a miscarriage; it was like reliving it all over again. It hadn’t happened immediately, it was well after you saw the photos of Tyler. The next afternoon, you’d been an emotional train wreck, crying at the drop of a hat. Part of you didn’t want to believe it was true, but then you’d look at the post again and you couldn’t escape the reality of it. Finally, you’d thrown your phone across the room; angry at the object that brought you such despair. It was in that moment that the pain hit. You doubled over with cramping so bad you fell to the ground. That’s when you saw the blood, it seemed to be everywhere, and you had no idea what to do. Slowly, you crawled over to where your phone had landed and called for an ambulance. Once you were in the emergency room, they brought over the ultra-sound machine and were unable to find the heartbeat. Though you’d been crying the whole time, the flood gates opened when the doctor confirmed you’d lost the baby.

 When the bleeding wouldn’t subside, they took you into surgery for a DNC. The whole thing felt so cold and robotic. This was your baby and they were literally scraping the remains out of you. You remember calling your friend Jenna afterward; you hadn’t told your parents yet and didn’t want them to know after what had happened with Tyler. Jenna had stayed with you the whole time, holding your hand, hugging you and just letting you cry for hours on end. You immediately blamed yourself, even when the doctor told you it wasn’t your fault; for how could it not be when you were so upset, that you’d literally forgotten about your child and now you were paying the consequences.

 Eventually Jenna convinced you to answer Tyler’s phone call and at least let him know what happened to the baby. He’d begged you to forgive him, before you could even say a word. You’d told him to ‘stop,’ that you didn’t want to hear it. Then you repeated over and over again, that you’d lost it. Now that you knew the truth and he never even knew you were pregnant; you can see how he didn’t understand. In your anger, both with yourself and him; you’d told him to go to hell. There was too much grief then to think clearly. Now you knew, that it was neither your fault nor Tyler’s. You’d come to terms that your miscarriage was out of your hands.

 You could see the emotions playing across Tyler’s face. There was joy at first, in the knowledge you two had a baby. Quickly replaced by hurt and sadness, when he found out the baby had died. Lastly there was the guilt, that overwhelming emotion that sent you spiraling out of control, was now taking over him. You didn’t hate him; you’d been long past that. When he staggered out of the room, every instinct in you wanted to follow him; and so you tried, only to be stopped by Jamie’s hand, which you totally forgot you’d been holding. It only registered in your brain when you found yourself calling out Tyler’s name. Absentmindedly you looked at Jamie, no words came out of your mouth; yet you heard him say, “Go, you both need this.” With one last squeeze of your hand, he let you go after Tyler.

 As soon as you were out of the bedroom you ran through the front door, thinking Tyler would be there; he wasn’t. You saw his figure running down the street. “Tyler!” He kept going, all the way to the end of the street, where he took a right. Where the hell was he headed? You ran down the street after him; yelling once more, “Tyler!” Finally, you reached the end of the street, he was close to the quaint bridge you and Jamie would walk across. Lungs burning with your effort to catch him, you tried one last time. “Ty! Stop! Please!” You’re not sure what made him stop, the pleading sound in your voice or the fact that you called him Ty. He turned then and saw you coming; so, you slowed your pace.

 By the time you reached him, your breathing was labored and so was his. “Why did you follow me?”

 “Ty, you shouldn’t be alone right now.” You sucked in a huge gulp of air, while looking at him. The guilt he was going through was written all over him. “It’s not your fault.”

 “How the fuck can you say that? Of course, it’s my fault. If I hadn’t been so fucking stupid that night, we’d have our child here right now.” Tears were rolling down both of your faces. “I caused you to lose our baby! Can’t you see that?”

 He turned away from you and you grabbed his hand to stop him. “Ty, stop! Just stop it right now. This isn’t your fault.” It felt like the tenth time that you said that to him, but it was the truth. “It wasn’t mine either. These things happen. It wasn’t until later that I found out why.”

 “If you hadn’t seen that video or those photos; you’d never have been upset. If I hadn’t taken those pills.” He began to sob. It was like he hadn’t heard a word you said.

 Without thinking you wrapped your arms around him hugging him as tightly as you could. “I know Ty. I know.” You cried with him; for how long, you didn’t know. Finally, you started to tell him what had happened. “I wish things were different. I blamed myself at first; thinking that if I’d put the baby first, instead of myself things would’ve been different. When I was finally able to talk to the doctor without being distraught, he told me what happened.”

 He pulled back from your embrace slightly, though still had his arms around you. “What do you mean? What happened (Y/N)?”

 “When he went in to do the DNC.” He looked at you not understanding the term. It was difficult enough to think about, let alone try and describe to someone; but you took a deep breath and tried. “That’s a surgical procedure they do, to…take the remains of the baby out.” More tears flooded both your eyes. It wasn’t an experience you wanted to relive. “Anyhow.” You let out a deep sigh. “While they were doing the procedure, they noticed my uterus was an abnormal shape. Apparently, that’s what caused me to miscarry. A few months later, I went in and had surgery to fix it; so, hopefully my next pregnancy won’t result the same way.” He was still looking at you, as if he was the reason this all happened. “Tyler, don’t you see. I more than likely I would’ve lost the baby anyhow. It was just bad timing.”

 His hand moved to your face, wiping away the tears that you’d shed. You did the same for him. “I’m so sorry baby. You had to go through this whole thing alone. You shouldn’t have been alone. I should’ve been there.” You leaned your head into the palm of his hand, even through all your anger; you’d still wanted him to be by your side, when it all happened. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.” A fat drop of rain hit your face, and soon the sky opened up pouring down on the two of you. It was washing away all your sins of the past; and now the two of you could finally breathe again. It was giving you a fresh start. His eyes locked with yours, and all the love you’d shared came flooding back. He leaned closer to you; lips parted as he had so many times before.

 Time to choose. There aren’t many options here but still this choice could be pivotal.

 A)     Let Tyler kiss you.

B)      Stop Tyler before he kisses you, you’re in love with Jamie.

C)      Tell Tyler you can’t do this at the moment, your emotions are all over the place. You love Jamie, but at the same time you still love Tyler.

[laurazepamwrites]

The chemicals between us ~ Chapter 11

Mei stood nervously outside Commander Morrisons office, her hand hanging in the air hesitant to knock. She had worked on her report for at least four hours and was fuelled by Junkrats encouragement. Now the moment had come to actually give her Commander the information she had found and the fear of rejection blocked her path. Should she even bring up the desire to go or trust Morrison to give her the task himself? What if she came across as desperate? All these questions spiked her anxiety as she stared at the door, hand in the air. A sudden knocking noise made her jump as Snowball took the initiative and tapped itself lightly against the door. ‘ Snowball !’ Mei mouthed as Morrison gave permission to enter from the otherside. She scowled at her droid and took a deep breath before entering.

Jack looked up as she entered, ‘Ah Mei, you have the report? Im impressed. I was expecting it by tomorrow at least.’

‘Y-Yes Sir.’ Mei entered and shut the door on Snowball. ‘ Serves you right .’ She thought as she approached the Commanders desk and handed him her report. ‘I've actually discovered a pattern of disappearances Sir, recently too, one of them is a rather famous Omnic.’

Jack nodded his acknowledgement as he studied her report leaving mei to anxiously bite her nails. ‘ He’s going to hate it, this is all a waste of time, why did I listen to that damn Junker!’ It felt like an eternity was passing before he finally gave an encouraging nod. ‘Er Mei? You can sit down you know..’

‘Oh!’ She hastily sat herself down and smoothed out her jumper and leggings absentmindedly as Jack waited patiently for her to get more settled. ‘You’ve done good work here Mei, and I agree. I think you have definitely found a lead here. If Null sector are nearby this can't be good. I’ll get Athena to get as much from the arrest report as she can and will assemble a surveillance team to head to Calais-’

‘I'll go!’ She blurted out.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Sorry! Sorry Sir, its just..I did the research and compiled a report. I volunteered myself, I think it's only fair I also go on the mission.’

Morrison sighed.. ‘Mei i'm not sure this is the best time to-’

‘No! Im- Im being assertive! And I’m putting my foot down! Give me one good reason why I shouldn't be allowed to go on a recon mission sir! You can't expect me to be cooped up here all the time doing nothing! I mean..You let the Junkers go and they're not even Overwatch!’

Jack held a hand up ‘Mei you've made some valid points but might i suggest you take a small breather whilst i explain some things?’

Mei chewed the inside of her lip and nodded.

‘Winston took you and Lena to Paris after reports of Omnic attacks yes? I heard it was quite the reunion..however you got injured, It could have been more serious if Dr Zeigler were not present. You're not a soldier Mei, you're not trained in any forms of combat. I have a team to look after and that involves making sure everyone here is as safe as possible. I understand you're frustrated, it must be hard feeling like you can't help but I've been speaking to Winston and-

‘Sir do you know I spent 2 weeks alone on an ecopoint with hardly any power?’ She said cooly.

‘I am aware-’

‘Do you know I spent over a week in the Antarctic with nothing but a tent and a weapon I made from scratch to get to the nearest point of civilization?’

‘Mei Im trying to-’

‘Why does everyone here think i'm some kind of doll?! I've proven I'm resourceful, that I can handle a gun that creates Ice for goodness sake and I'm not a bad shot either!’

‘Mei Im sending you to Calais.’ Morrisons voice spoke over hers.

‘I...what?’

‘As I was trying to explain...We can't play to our strengths if we don't use all of the team. I've spoken to Winston and he agrees, you were critical in the success in Paris and rather formidable with that gun and droid of yours. We do however have one concern..’

‘Which is..?’ She asked, but Mei already knew the question. She was waiting for it ever since she first arrived.

‘How are you Mei? Really? After what happened to your team?’

‘I..’ Mei hesitated and considered her answer. ‘It..It was hard to adjust. I've been gone for ten years, It's been hard but honestly I'm doing so much better now..’ She tried to sound optimistic. She could barely convince herself that was true.

Morrison seemed unconvinced himself. ‘Have you seen anyone professionally? To talk to I mean?’

‘I did see a therapist a few times..and I felt a lot better.’ That was only half true. She had seen someone but she had struggled to talk about the loss she felt, the guilt, the anger, the sadness when she desperately tried not to feel those things. She stopped going eventually, she threw herself into her work and it helped keep the dark away.

Morrison looked doubtful..'it was a terrible thing that happened Mei, have you spoken to anyone here? Winston? Angela?'

Mei almost scoffed. Winston had tried to talk to her but as usual she closed up, something about having no idea they were in trouble and everything appeared to be running smoothly at the ecopoint. She had made her excuses and left before he could explain further, not wanting to hear how he had thought all was well when her team were dead around her. After that he had given her her space leaving her to come to him if she needed to talk about what happened, but she never did.

'I don't need to talk to anyone sir, I'm fine.' She said firmly.

'You don't seem yourself Mei..'

'With all due respect Sir we are up against a well funded terrorist organisation who outnumber us 100 to 1. I'm sure I can be forgiven for 'not being myself' sometimes.'

'Hmm good point. Very well Mei if you think you are up to this then I see no reason why you can’t go for recon. It will be good for you to get more experience in the field, I'll make sure a senior member will be on the mission with you.’

Her eyes lit up ‘Really? You mean it!’ She couldn't help but beam.

Morrison chuckled lightly ‘I wish more of you was this enthusiastic. I’ll discuss your report with Ana and Winston. Keep an ear out, Athena will call you to a mission briefing by tomorrow.’

Mei Jumped from her seat. ‘Xie xie! Thank you! Thank you Commander Morrison! I can't wait for the briefing! Opps, I mean..I know it's serious but you know what I mean?’

‘You're dismissed Mei.’ Jack said patiently.

‘Oh! Yes Sir! Thank you! Thank you again!’ She closed the door behind her, waiting those few seconds for her brain to catch up on what had just happened. ‘I did it Snowball!’ She grabbed her droid from the air and spun him around gleefully.  

Jack smiled briefly at the sound of Mei celebrating but it was short lived, his expression darkened as he accessed his computer, once again bringing up the secret communications with the stranger.

: So….guess you're still pretty mad about Bryansk?

  :You gave away our position and could have lost us everything.’

  :And I heard it was handled well enough. Talon now has a lot less weapons.

  :What's the reason you’re contacting me?

  :I think I'm being watched. More than usual.

  :What do you mean?’

  :They are getting suspicious here, and I think i'm in danger. Im sorry..i need to give them what they want sometimes, Im just warning you need to lay low for awhile but ill still be working my magic one way or another.’

  :Understood, A little warning next time.’

  :Sometimes we don't have that luxury friend. Adios.’

The screen went black leaving Jack staring at his expression etched with trepidation.

                    --------------------------------------------------------------                                            

The next Morning Mei hovered at the entrance to the large meeting room, she was early by about twenty minutes and now anxious that she would appear too eager. She started to bite her nails when she heard the click of heels approaching, turning to the sound she was greeted by the sight of Angela, her blonde hair up in a messy ponytail and holding two mugs in her hands, a small folder of paper under one arm. ‘Ah good you’re here. I was hoping you would be early, unless you like cold coffee.’ The blonde woman said brightly.

Mei felt more at ease and was thankful someone expected her to be early. ‘Are you on the Calais mission Angela?’ She asked, taking one of the mugs with a smile of thanks and holding the door open.

‘Ja, would be good to stretch my legs as i'm sure you can appreciate, and as this is a surveillance mission Jack felt a less inconspicuous look would be more suitable.’ Angela replied. The two women sat beside each other at the large round table. Angela began rifling through the papers, Mei took a drink from her mug and glanced over, realizing it was her report. ‘Is it.Is it ok?’ She asked.

‘Hmm?’ Angela looked up at her. ‘Ah yes! You’ve done a fine report, and you found a good lead too. With Athena's assistance we may be able to locate the addresses of those who have reported missing Omnics.’ She took a quick sip from her mug. ‘Oh and well done on noticing the Activist artist had vanished.’

Mei pursed her lips. ‘Yes well, that might not have been so much me..but I did most of the work!’

Angela raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her and waited for her to continue. Mei tapped her fingers on the table in irritation before blurting out her grievances. ‘That damn Junker walks in with that smug attitude like he owns the place and starts poking fun like he always does and - and he set a fire somewhere! Did you know that? I should tell the Commander.. Anyway, I might have been feeling at a loss trying to find some leads and he just takes over and-!’ Mei waved one of her hands at the report and took a rather angry slurp of her coffee. Angela tried not to laugh at her friend. ‘I see.’ She said, suppressing a smile and occupying herself with tidying the papers in front of her.

‘Is that all? Do I need to mention he found some information on the report or not?

‘No, but did you thank him?’

‘I..no.’

‘Maybe start with that.’

‘But he’s a jerk.’

‘And it was only a few days ago he was in my office complaining about you..honestly, you are as bad as each other.

Mei looked shocked at the accusation ‘Angela! We are nothing alike! For starters he’s an international criminal! He’s grown up completely feral! He’s-What did he say about me?!’ She didnt get her answer as they both looked up as everyone else entered. ‘We’ll discuss this another time.’ Said Angela, still trying not to laugh. Mei huffed, folded her arms and scowled sideways at her friend.

‘Good morning ladies.’ Ana said cheerfully as she joined them at the table followed by Commander Morrison and Winston. They were each carrying a copy of Mei’s report.

‘So..’ Ana began. ‘Thanks to Dr Zhou we have a promising lead in Calais. We try to keep such missions of intelligence gathering to as small a number as possible to avoid detection but as this is not your field Mei we will send Angela along with you. I think you both can keep a low profile as sightseers.’

‘It's a simple enough mission.’ Said Morrison. ‘Gather as much intelligence as possible regarding missing Omnics and Null sector. Don't mention Overwatch or Talon to anyone to avoid suspicion. We will arrange a hotel and car hire under false names and identification, you’ll have 24 hours in the city before pick up.’

‘ I have gained access to the addresses of the Omnics who have filed missing reports for your convenience .’ Offered Athena.

‘Angela will be going with a concealed weapon but that will be the only one available. It would be too risky for Mei to have her weapon with her, and to be on the safe side maybe it's best to leave your droid behind Mei so you are less recognizable’

‘Oh..’ Mei sounded unsure. Snowball was her near constant companion, it would be odd to have him so far away from her. ‘If it's ok Commander, can he come along but remain at the hotel?’ Morrison thought for a moment before grunting and nodding his head in agreement. Mei let out a small sigh of relief.

‘When do we depart?’ Asked Angela.

‘Athena has discovered that an Omnics right rally is due to happen in 3 days time. Maybe you can get more information there.’ Offered Winston.

‘Good idea.’ Agreed Ana. ‘Lena will take you there the night before, make sure you’re both ready for departure.’

‘Yes Captain.’ Mei replied.

‘Keep your wits about you and be careful.’ Warned Morrison. ‘Omnic rallys can potentially become heated and France has had its fair share of violence lately as you both know. Watch each other's backs out there.’

Angela nodded in agreement, ‘You can count on us Commander.’

              ------------------------------------------------------------------

Snowball glided along the corridor towards the common room followed closely by Mei and Angela. ‘...And you may want to learn a couple phrases of french if you don't already. Oh and I will need to stop by the City of lace and fashion.’ Angela was saying as she walked in step with Mei who looked up at her in puzzlement. ‘It's a museum, oh and we best see the museum of fine arts too.’

‘Erm..don't you think we should be working on the mission?’

Angela chuckled. ‘Ah Mei, we’re undercover. We should play the part, and if we have souvenirs and shopping bags we will look much less suspicious.’

‘Shopping bags huh?’

‘Well..I would like some new shoes at least.’ Angela shrugged as they walked into the common room together. There was evidence of early breakfasts having been made, a near empty jar of peanut butter on the side. Hana, Jamison and Lucio were heard laughing on the decking outside enjoying the morning sun.

‘Now's your Chance Mei.’ Said Angela who had begun washing their mugs in the sink.

‘Hmm?’

Angela nodded towards the glass doors that lead to the outside seating area. ‘To thank him.’

‘Right now?’

Angela did not answer, she dried her hands on a nearby tea towel and raised her eyebrows at Mei as she strode past her and opened the door to the decking. Mei’s eyes widened in alarm as her so-called friend brazenly greeted the group and informed Jamison that she wished to speak to him inside. Jamison had surely said something because Hana and Lucio were now laughing, she overheard Hana jokingly say ‘ Ding ding  round fifty!’

‘What was that!’ She hissed at Angela as soon as the blonde turned back around. She had no time for an answer as Jamison was quick to follow Angela, looking grumpy at what he assumed was going to be a telling off. The scowl on Mei’s face was not helpful.

‘Fucks sake, whatever it is I didn't do alright? Well..might of? Look just have your moan woman and get it over with!’

‘Well I suppose since you brought it up maybe you could explain why i found a service droid with most of its mechanics taken out..?’

‘Hey my experiments are none of your business!’

‘Oh so it was you!’

At that point Angela made a rather dramatic show of clearing her throat, Mei rolled her eyes and sighed deeply to compose herself. ‘Okay..okay look. I didn't want to fight..’

‘Really? You've made a fine job of that.’

‘For goodness sake! I'm trying to say thanks!’

Junkrat stared at her, the confusion visible on his face as he processed what Mei had said. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ He said eventually.

Mei started to lace her fingers together, suddenly feeling shy and looking to her feet. ‘You erm..you actually did help me. With the missing Omnics I mean, and I took your advice, I did see the Commander and I'm going on the mission to Calais for recon. I ..I guess I wouldn't have had such success without your help, so honestly, thank you Jamison.’

She expected him to scoff or make fun or to laugh at her, but instead what he did gave her a strange sudden warmth in her stomach. He smiled, not one of his manic grins when he set something on fire or blew up one of his explosives and neither was it the kind of smile when he joked around with Hana and Lucio or had a few too many drinks with McCree and Torbjorn. He was genuinely smiling at her and she felt like she was truly seeing his face for the first time.

‘That's Brilliant Mei! See I told you didnt I! You just gotta puff yourself up and make yourself heard! Honestly, made up for ya! When are you going?’

Mei gave a small smile. ‘Erm..two days' time, it will give me a chance to prepare at least.’

‘Ah you’ll be fine. Show the old man what you’re made of.’

She smiled and suppressed a small chuckle. ‘Maybe I will..thank you.’

‘No worries.’ He said, still smiling at her. Mei suddenly felt unsure of what to say next and they both seemed to remember their mutual dislike of each other. They stood there both of them not knowing what to say or do now and Jamison was never good at being quiet when feeling uncomfortable. ‘So er..what now? Do we shake hands? Hug it out? Go back to annoying each other?’

‘Erm..I mean we could try to..Oh I don't know! You are very annoying.’

‘Annnd she's back in the room!’ Jamison laughed and winked at her ‘Take a chill pill Frosty.’ He said back to her as he went back outside. Mei continued to stand in place and took a few seconds to process whatever had just happened. He genuinely seemed happy for her didn't he?

‘Wow.’ She heard Angela say.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Mei asked, narrowing her eyes at the Doctor.

‘Oh nothing..I didn't see anything or notice anything, and at least you won't have to worry about thanking him now. Sometimes you just need a little push. Rip that bandaid off as it were’

‘You are not funny and you are a terrible friend.’

‘You're welcome.’ Angela smiled warmly at her.

                     -------------------------------------------------------------

‘What's your problem?’ Roadhog grunted from his bed. Junkrat looked up from maintaining his peg, ‘Huh?’ Roadhog wheezed as he pulled himself up into a sitting position and reached over to his oxygen tank, clipping the nozzle of the hose to his mask and inhaling deeply. ‘You're too quiet.’

‘Damned if I do damned If I don't..’ Junkrat muttered. ‘Im fine.’

‘If you say so.’ The huge Junker replied and remained silent. A few seconds passed and predictably Junkrat spoke. ‘Mei’s got herself a mission.’

‘Mei now is it?’

‘Well..it was weird. She was her usual frosty self and then she's thanking me.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘I dunno mate, felt weird.’

‘You think any positive interaction is weird, Rat.’

‘Cos it is mate and I don't get it, If i don't get it I don't like it. I don't like being confused and everyone one here is fucking confusing. Especially her.’ He swore to himself and went back to work, a deep frown etched on his face. Roadhog watched him for a moment and sighed to himself.

‘Idiot.’

                     -----------------------------------------------------------

It was approaching midnight and Mei was still wide awake. Time had gotten away from her and she had spent hours preparing for her mission right down to what clothes she would wear and how long Angela could spend shopping. She had gone over everything with a fine tooth comb but still could not shake the nervousness and doubt gnawing at her. What if she screwed up, what if she blew hers and Angela's cover? What if they didn't find anything and it turns out to be a huge waste of time and resources and it would be her fault for pushing the Commander to let her go?

‘ He genuinely seemed happy for me.’  The sudden thought jolted her from her anxieties, but she didn't want to think about Jamison and she was annoyed at herself for doing so. ‘Snowball have I forgotten anything?’ She asked her droid but he was far away on her desk charging silently in sleep mode. Mei sighed and decided to go through her preparations again tomorrow with Angelas help. She settled into bed hoping she’d have no claustrophobic nightmares and tried to relax her thoughts with deep breathing, she concentrated on her chest rising and lowering and soon began to feel the weight of sleep slowly creeping on her. Her mind flashed with the image of  how Jamison smiled at her and her eyes snapped open, the strange warmth blossomed in her stomach again. She grumbled, ignored it and rolled over, pulling the blanket closer around herself, annoyed that he was even bothering her in her thoughts.

[team-free-will-oneshots]

Breaking Point

Title: Breaking Point (part five of the ‘Buried Secrets’ series) Summary: Dean realises exactly how badly he messed up - but you’re not ready to forgive him. When you and Sam get even closer on a hunt, how much of a rift will be driven between you and Dean? Will you ever be able to cross it? Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader (fem pronouns) (mostly sam x reader in this part) Warnings: some swearing, Angst™, canon-typical violence, also more angst :(  Word Count: 4,811 (its a long one, sorry...)

note; ok so this part is based around 11x07, ‘Plush’ - I stayed somewhat true to canon but ended up tying up the hunt a lot more quickly and easily than the episode for my own convenience lmao. also sam isn’t having the visions from “God” in this series, at least it’s not gonna be brought up bc that’s all just A Lot for me to try and keep track of and i wanna keep focus on the fic plot not canon lol, sorry! anyways hope u enjoy this part!

Part One | Two | Three | Four

Masterlist

It was too bright, and his head hurt. It was almost enough to make him forget the events that had transpired the night prior - almost.

Dean rubbed his tired eyes as he stumbled to the kitchen, brewing a pot of coffee as he bit back a yawn. He poured a cup and stared at the nearly-full pot for a few moments before realising no one was coming to join him. Right - Sam had taken your side.

The anger raging through his veins had burned out long ago, replaced only with a hollow feeling of guilt that made him feel sick to his stomach as his brutal words bounced around the chambers of his mind. The hurt in your eyes was branded into his brain, and he clenched his jaw as he recalled your timid voice, your shaking hands as you fled from him as though you were scared of him.

Scared.

Of him.

As if he could ever hurt you.

But you did, his brain whispered. Dean slammed his mug down on the table, hot coffee splashing onto his hands, the tiny droplets scalding his skin as he swore and shook them off. He clenched his fist midair, bringing it to crash back against the wood of the table. He felt so guilty - why did he feel so guilty? You lied to him, lied to Sam, to Cas, to everyone - and he was the one feeling bad?

But the spark of anger fizzled before it could grow, and he resolved to set his feelings aside, at least for now. He was good at that - avoiding things. It was practically in his Winchester genes to ignore his emotions until they broke him. And he wasn’t at breaking point - not yet, at least.

Dean’s fingers found his phone, and he toyed with it absentmindedly, thumb hovering over your number, and then Sam’s. After staring at it a little longer than he’d have liked to admit, he slipped it back into his pocket. You weren’t coming back - not yet, at least. But even though you were gone, Amara was still a threat. Weird connection to her or not, he needed to find a way to get rid of her.

Assigning his pain to the backseat, Dean hit the books.

---

“Hello, Dean.”

The eldest Winchester started awake, the shape of the book before him sharply imprinted onto his cheek. He rubbed it, wincing his bleary eyes at the discomfort.

“Cas?” he groaned. “What is it?”

“Have you slept?” The angel’s voice was weighed with concern, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Obviously,” he muttered, wiping the dried spit crusted at the corner of his mouth as he swallowed back the unpleasant taste an unexpected nap always left. “Found anything?”

“Nothing new,” Cas said, glancing around the empty bunker. “Where are Y/N and Sam? Shouldn’t they be helping you research?” he asked disapprovingly, and Dean chuckled dryly.

“I haven’t heard from them in two days,” he said, plastering on a humourless grin. Castiel’s brow creased.

“Are they on a hunt? They could be hurt, we should-”

“No, they’re not on- Y/N’s a witch,” Dean blurted, and Castiel’s eyebrows flitted skywards in surprise.

“A witch?”

“You heard me,” Dean growled, turning back to the books. “She- she used a hex bag on me, so I kicked her out. Sam went after her - texted me, told me not to follow ‘em.”

“That doesn’t sound like Y/N,” Cas remarked, and Dean scoffed.

“Yeah, tell me about it. She said it was to help me, whatever that’s meant to mean,” he muttered. Cas gave him a knowing look, and Dean’s defences shot up.

“What? I’m fine, I don’t need help!” he said angrily, and Cas made a disbelieving sound.

“Right. Of course not. Have you considered that Y/N might just have been worried about you, and really did want to help?” Cas prompted, and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Of course I have, Cas. But that doesn’t justify her lying about being a monster! We’ve known her years, and she never told us the truth!” he exclaimed. Cas hummed disapprovingly.

“Dean, you know that witches aren’t all bad. You just happen to have a great deal of experience weeding out the… bad apples,” he said slowly. “Can you really blame her for keeping it a secret, considering how you’ve reacted?”

Dean’s jaw ticked, and your teary face flashed again into his mind. He wondered how long you’d cried - if Sam had comforted you, like the big softie he was. If you’d thought about him at all the last few days. If you wished he’d reacted differently. ‘Cos god, he was wishing that right about now, too.

“She-she’s dangerous,” Dean protested lamely.

“If you really believed that, you would never have let Sam go after her alone,” Cas reminded him gently, and he couldn’t find the words to argue back. He let his eyes fall on the yellowed paper before him, the fading ink blurring into a meaningless jumble of letters as he struggled to make sense of the mass of emotions tangled amongst his thoughts.

“Why was I so angry?” he asked eventually. “She lied to me, and- and I was so pissed. But now I just… I miss her,” he admitted. Cas offered a tight, sympathetic smile.

“You do have a tendency to lash out when you’re hurt,” he informed the Winchester. “I know that better than most. And it’s understandable that you could feel… betrayed,” Castiel continued slowly, and Dean grunted in agreement.

“Yeah, well, she did lie to me,” he muttered.

“So has Sam. And I, in the past. Don’t be angry, but… you do tend to latch onto small things to push people away. And I know,” Cas interjected as Dean opened his mouth to protest, “this isn’t exactly a tiny secret. But I think that the reason why she kept it was quite clear. The real question is - why did you feel the need to push her away in the first place?”

Dean swallowed hard, hating that the angel was right in his analysis, and hating even more how obvious the answer seemed to him now. Why had he pushed you away, just as you were starting to get close?

The answer came to him as easily as the alphabet. Because he didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your concern, your care, your smiles. And above all, he certainly didn’t deserve your love. He didn’t deserve to be happy with you - he knew he’d only bring you down.

And so, Dean had done what Dean did best - found a means to push you away. To alienate himself from you, so that even if he changed his mind, you wouldn’t want to be with him after the way he had wronged you. So that you could be free of him. And it just so happened that your newly exposed identity as a witch was the perfect excuse to slice a rift between you.

Dean ran his hands over his face as he groaned. “God, Cas, she was just trying to help. She was trying to help me and I was such a fucking dick to her. How do I go back from that?” he asked helplessly, voice cracking as he raised his head to meet Castiel’s eyes. The angel’s face was solemn.

“I’d imagine you start with an apology.”

Dean sighed, mouth half open to speak when his phone vibrated against the table. His jaw fell closed, and he shot Cas a tense look before holding the phone up to his ear.

“Dean,” he muttered.

“Hiya, Dean!” Donna’s cheerful voice greeted. “Look, it could be nothing, but I might have a case for ya…”

---

You glanced up from your book as Sam’s phone vibrated across the room - the youngest Winchester had gone for a walk to clear his head from the seemingly endless lore and news articles the two of you had been picking apart since your hasty departure from the bunker. Sighing, you heaved yourself to your feet, rubbing at your temple absentmindedly as you glanced at the caller ID.

Dean.

Breath catching in your throat, you set your jaw and purposefully declined the call. Thoughts of the eldest Winchester didn’t bring you sadness, not anymore - instead, they fuelled your system with rage. How could he treat you like that, say those things to you after all you’d been through together? You humphed in annoyance, and just as you were about to re-take your seat, the phone began its incessant buzzing once more. Defeated, you held the phone up to your ear, bracing yourself for what was to come.

“Sam’s phone,” you said tersely, and the line fell dead silent.

“Y/N?” Dean asked, voice barely rising above a whisper. You cleared your throat, careful to keep your voice steady as you responded.

“That’s me - the one you kicked out, remember?” you said brightly, though your voice was underlaid with acidic anger that corroded your cheerful tone.

“I remember,” Dean muttered. “Y/N, I-”

The door opened, and you exhaled in relief as you pulled the phone from your ear. “Sam, it’s your brother,” you said stiffly, and Sam quirked an eyebrow before accepting the phone in your extended hand.

“Dean?” he asked in surprise, and you picked up your book again as Sam walked into the bathroom, closing the door while he continued the conversation with his brother. You heard his voice rise in irritation, but after a few more moments, he walked out with a defeated expression.

“Donna needs help on a hunt,” he said apologetically, beginning to gather his things. You jumped up and began to prepare your own, but paused at the confused expression clouding Sam’s face.

“Uh… Dean’s gonna be there. You don’t have to come,” he told you, and you shrugged half-heartedly.

“I feel so cooped up in here, I honestly don’t care. A hunt would do me some good - help me get out some pent up anger,” you explained, and Sam frowned but didn’t object again. “So, what are we looking at?” you asked.

“Uh, Dean said something about a “killer bunny,” Sam said, and you shot him a confused look.

“A what?”

“That’s all he said - it might not even be our kind of thing. I say we go down, give Donna some peace of mind, and if it’s not our kinda gig we let the police take it from there,” he said, and you nodded.

“Yeah. Okay. Let’s hop on down and check out this killer bunny,” you said, smiling cheekily. Sam groaned.

“Really, Y/N?” he asked, though his tone was tinged with amusement. “Puns?”

“Hey, maybe it was an accident - you really ought to stop jumping to conclusions,” you defended, and he rolled his eyes.

“An accident? Yeah, I doubt it - you’re hardly being subtle,” he replied, and you grinned slyly.

“I guess you could even say I’m dangling a carrot in front of your face,” you pressed, and Sam turned to you in exasperation.

“You done?” he asked, despite the smile playing on his features. You grinned.

“Not even close.”

“Well, I’m putting an official ban on rabbit puns for at least the ride down,” Sam said, and you pouted.

“Why?” you whined, and he shot you a playful grin.

“They’re just not bunny.”

---

A pun-filled car ride later, the two of you strode into Donna’s precinct in your FBI getups, where Dean was already waiting for you.

“Sorry if we’re a hare late, traffic was a nightmare,” you greeted, pointedly ignoring Dean as you gave a laughing Donna a hug. Sam rolled his eyes fondly, and you winked at him before your sights fell on Dean. His eyes met yours, and he quickly lowered his gaze, clearing his throat before turning to Donna.

“So, what makes you think this is our kind of thing?” he asked. Donna explained the situation - gruesome murder, and an apprehended perp whose mask refused to budge. You whistled as she finished.

“Well, it’s certainly a hare-raising tail, but I’m not sure it’s our thing,” you said with a mischievous smile. Donna laughed, Sam rolled his eyes affectionately, and Dean tried a tentative smile of his own.

You ignored it.

“Yeah, but if uh, you’ve got a wild hare...” he added playfully. “See what I did there?” Donna laughed again, but you rolled your eyes and acted as though he hadn’t spoken, refusing to even meet his gaze. His heart sank, and the smile fell from his face.

A short while later, Donna led the three of you to the holding cells, where you frowned at the sight before you.

“Any witnesses?” Sam asked, and Donna nodded.

“Ex-wife - thought she was next, but the bunny just up and walked out the door!” she exclaimed.

“You ID him yet?” Dean queried, and Donna shook her head.

“Nope. No wallet, cell… ran his prints, but no prior record. Couldn’t even get our hands on him long enough to check for any identifying marks. Only thing we do know is he’s caucasian, roughly eighteen to twenty-five… and terrifying,” she breathed.

Donna was called away by Officer Stover, leaving the three of you, plus bunny, alone. You frowned, stepping closer and squinting at the bloodied mask.

“Are we sure it’s not just a really committed furry?” you asked slowly. Sam’s brow furrowed.

“What’s a-”

Dean frantically shook his head at his brother. “You don’t wanna know,” he interrupted, and the exaggerated fear in his voice brought a smile to your face. You quickly composed your expression, clearing your throat as Dean stepped forward and threw some mocking quips at the masked figure.

“What, took too much molly? Super-glued your mask to your head? Got paranoid, stabbed a guy? Been there,” he chuckled, and you scoffed. Dean turned around, frowning at your reaction, and the bunny seized the moment of distraction to grab him by the neck and slam him against the bars of the holding cell.

Sam busted out the holy water, to no avail. “Not a demon,” he remarked. You stood to the side, panic flaring in your chest at the sight of Dean struggling. No no no no no!

“Well, he’s strong!” Dean snapped, and Sam grabbed the bunny’s hands, trying to pry them off his brother’s neck. You rubbed your temple, trying to soothe your stress headache and willing yourself to think when it hit you.

“Wait, I’ve got this,” you muttered, pushing Sam back as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes.

“Any time now, Y/N!” Dean pressed.

“Shut it!” you snapped, before thrusting your hands forward. A surge of power had the attacker flying backwards and slamming into the wall. It didn’t seem to faze him - he got to his feet and stood perfectly still, those fake, glassy eyes seeming to stare straight at you. Dean winced, rubbing at his neck. As the adrenaline seeped from your veins, you felt your headache fade away.

“Thanks,” Dean muttered, and you folded your arms, resolutely ignoring him. Meanwhile, Sam’s eyes fell on the bunny’s t-shirt - Minnesota Tech - and the tattoo on his arm - ‘Kylie Forever’.

“Kylie forever,” he mused. “That’ll work.”

It didn’t take you long to compile a list of potential ‘Kylie’s’, and Dean whistled at the length of it. “Alright, Y/N and I will take the first ten. Sam, you can-”

You cleared your throat. “Uh, actually, I’ll go with Sam,” you interjected, and Dean raised his brows in surprise.

“But- but we always team up,” he objected, voice ringing with hurt. You shot him a tight smile.

“Yeah, well I wouldn’t want you to have to swallow your disgust, would I?” you spat, and Dean flinched at your words as the reality of the situation crashed over him. How could he forget?

“Listen, Y/N…” he began, but you shook your head.

“Just… leave it,” you grumbled. “We’ll check in later. C’mon, Sam,” you dismissed, grabbing Sam’s arm and walking away. Sam shot his brother an apologetic shrug, letting you guide him towards the exit.

Dean watched as you left, expelling a deep sigh as he ran his hand over the side of his face before shaking his head to himself. He jumped when Donna’s voice echoed from behind him.

“What’d’ya do to get her knickers all up in a bunch?” she asked, and Dean barked a dry laugh that died on his lips.

“I messed up, is what I did,” he informed her. “Things were good. Great. Better than, even - we were… well, we were about to be somethin’, anyways, but I… said some things I shouldn’t have. And now I dunno if she can forgive me. If I even deserve to be forgiven.”

Donna frowned. “Sounds like you should try apologising, bud. Don’t be afraid to go real sappy, neither, just make sure ya bein’ honest,” she advised, and Dean grunted.

“Yeah, I would if she’d actually talk to me,” he scoffed, and Donna hummed.

“Well, if she needs space, you gotta give it to her,” she said simply. “Can’t expect a girl to give ya a civil conversation if you didn’t give her one to start with, can ya? Piece of advice, though - if ya wanna patch things up, ya betta get in sooner rather than later. She and Sam are lookin’ real chummy,” she said, elbowing him slyly. He frowned.

“Her and Sam? No way. Really?”

Donna whistled. “Oh, yeah. Besta luck,” she said, patting him lightly on the back. “Catch ya later.”

As the blonde left, Dean stood for a moment, stewing in his own overwhelming emotions and chewing on the advice Donna had offered. You clearly wanted your space… and if you really were moving away from him and towards Sam… well, wasn’t pushing you away exactly what he’d wanted in the first place? Wouldn’t it be better for you to be with his kind, thoughtful brother instead of being stuck with… well, whatever kind of a mess Dean himself was?

He sighed, shaking his head and ignoring the hollow aching in his chest as he forced himself back to work. He could deal with this later - he wasn’t at breaking point.

Not yet.

---

It didn’t take long for the puzzle pieces to fall together - once you realised you were dealing with a ghost and managed to piece together a list of the costumes he was attached to, it took near no time at all to sort it out between you, Sam, Dean and Donna. You’d stuck with Sam the whole time, communicating with the others in quick phone calls and texts.

Sam was by your side when you tossed a match on the final costume, watching the fire sear through the fabric and the reeking smoke drift into the air as the ghost of Chester Johnson was eaten up by the tongues of hungry, flickering flames. You exhaled heavily as silence fell across the forest the two of you had found yourselves in, an echoing quiet broken only by the crackling of the fire.

“Well, that’s that,” you murmured. Sam swallowed, nodding.

“Yeah. Nice work.”

A smile sloped your lips. “You too. Now what?”

Sam’s phone buzzed before he could reply, and he tugged it from his pocket, glancing at the screen before his eyes met yours.

“Now we meet up with Dean and Donna,” he said. You were quiet.

“Right. Dean.”

“Y/N… maybe you should listen to what he has to say. It seems like-”

“I can’t, Sam. Not right now, not after he… it’s just too soon,” you mumbled, and Sam offered a tight, sympathetic smile.

“Yeah. I get it. But you can’t stay mad at him forever,” he reminded you. You averted your gaze, eyes cast downwards.

“I know. But… I can’t forget. Not yet.”

Sam’s eyes softened, and he rested his hand soothingly on the curve of your waist. You ignored the stutter of your heart.

“Come on, let’s get back.”

The car ride back to the station was quick to draw the lingering tension between the two of you, replacing it with easy banter and refreshing laughter that still bubbled on your lips as the two of you stumbled into Dean.

“Hey - is it done?” he asked, and Sam nodded.

“Yeah - he’s gone. Everything’s burned,” Sam confirmed, and Dean grinned, clapping his brother on the back.

“Great work, Sammy!”

Sam rolled his eyes. “It’s Sam,” he corrected affectionately, and Dean brushed him off with a nonchalant,

“Pssh.” He turned to you. “Good work, Y/N - you always could handle yourself on a hunt,” he complimented, and the smile died on your lips. Your jaw was taut as you avoided his gaze.

“Yeah. Thanks,” you muttered. As much as a small part of you appreciated that Dean was making somewhat of an effort, the memories of that fateful night weren’t so easily erased. Years of friendship reduced to ashes in a single moment as Dean’s rage sent you packing - the echoes of his words still cut you, and you were yet to determine whether their scars would be permanent. At any rate, you knew you weren’t ready to forgive him. Not yet.

Dean sighed. “Look, Y/N… can we talk?”

You half scoffed, feeling your defensive walls rise as you shook your head. “You didn’t exactly give me the liberty of a discussion the other night, did you?”

Your words came out harsher than you intended, and you felt a flicker of guilt at the hurt in Dean’s eyes that you quickly forced yourself to quell. Dean shook his head in disbelief, the action paired with a sharp intake of breath as your words slammed into him like a brick.

“C’mon, man… I was angry. It was a lot to take in, you can’t expect me to just-”

“Dean,” Sam warned, cutting his brother off before he could raise his voice. Dean took a breath, nodding, and you interrupted him as he opened his mouth to speak.

“Whatever, Dean. I’ll be seeing you.” The words were cold, your tone colder as you spun on your heel, stalking back to the car. Despite the hurt welling in your chest, you found yourself half-hoping that he’d follow you, that he’d properly apologise, that things could go back to some semblance of normal…

But Dean watched as you left, Donna’s words ringing in his head. “If she needs space, you gotta give it to her.” As much as every bone in his body longed to follow you, to hug you and kiss you and whisper the words that would fix everything, he stayed put. There were no magic words, no embraces nor kisses that could fix the mess he had made.

And so, with a heavy heart, he let you leave.

---

The car ride back to the motel was draped with a silence so thick you could have sliced it with a butter knife. You didn’t want to think, not right now, so you busied yourself staring out the window at the scenery, leached navy and grey in the moonlight. The road was quiet at this time - the two of you were alone, your only company the yellow glow of the headlights bouncing back at you from the green road signs you passed.

You could feel another headache coming on, so you popped some aspirin and swallowed them dry. The pills were bitter and powdery as they started to crumble on your tongue, and you winced as you finally got them down. Sam glanced over at you when he heard the crinkle of the aluminium sheet of tablets, but maintained his silence.

When he pulled into the parking lot, you headed to the room in sullen silence. You collapsed onto your bed still fully clothed, kicking off your shoes as you sighed. Your conversation with Dean had left a hollow sensation in your chest you weren’t quite certain how to shake. Glancing over at Sam, you saw him climbing into bed and shooting a concerned glance your way. You met it with a ghost of a smile.

“Do you mind…”

He chuckled. “C’mon,” he invited, nodding to his bed. A breathy laugh fell from your lips as you crawled into his bed, letting him tuck you against his chest. You’d slept beside him every night you’d stayed in the motel thus far - his warm presence helped you drift off better than any of your hex bags ever could. Your magic couldn’t replicate the gentle rise and fall of his chest, nor the patterns his fingers would trace over your spine.

“This is just a mess, isn’t it?” you asked weakly, and felt the sudden sinking of Sam’s torso as he sighed.

“Maybe a little,” he allowed, shooting you a small smile that you instinctively returned.

“I just… I don’t know how to feel. I wish things could just go back to the way they were, but… that’s not going to happen, is it? Not now that he knows,” you whispered. “God, I wish I wasn’t… me. Everything would be so much easier.” Sam fell into a thoughtful silence, and you almost thought he’d fallen asleep until his voice broke the comfortable quiet hanging over the room.

“Things won’t be the same,” he said eventually. “But… maybe that’s not a bad thing. Maybe this is something you needed, something to push you towards…” He trailed off, sighing again as he shook his head. “I dunno. But I don’t think you should just give up on things getting better,” he said. “And you definitely shouldn’t regret being true to yourself. You… God, you’re incredible, Y/N. And if Dean can’t see that, then that’s his loss.”

You smiled at his soothing words, glancing up at him in the darkness. Shadows clung to his skin, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the perfect disarray of his hair. He caught you staring and chuckled, the dimples in his cheeks protruding at the action.

“Thanks, Sammy,” you said eventually, and he shook his head, fingers moving to comb through your hair, gently tugging out the knots. You stared at him a moment longer, your lips forming your next words before you’d even realised you’d spoken.

“Why do you let me call you Sammy? You always correct Dean,” you realised, and Sam laughed sheepishly, the sound swallowed by the darkness. He shrugged.

“I dunno. I guess… when Dean says it, I know he’s seeing me as just his kid brother. But when you say it… it feels different. Almost comforting.” He shrugged again, ducking his head in embarrassment. “That probably sounds stupid…”

You shook your head. “No - not at all,” you breathed, breath catching as his eyes flitted to yours. You were vaguely aware that at some point during your conversation your headache had faded, the space it occupied replaced with Sam’s smile, the warmth of his voice, and solid presence of his arms around you.

His proximity seemed to become more apparent as you became aware of your heart thumping against your ribs. If he noticed, he kept it to himself, though you knew there was no way he could miss the sudden hitch in your breathing as he adjusted to nestle you snug against his side. The simple, caring movement unleashed a wave of emotions you’d been fighting to hold back for longer than you cared to admit - feelings you’d bottled up and pushed away, dismissing them as faint impossibilities, distant fantasies that would never see the light of day.

And so, how fitting it was that you found your breaking point under the dark protection of the night.

Before you could stop yourself, your mouth was slanting against his, sleepy and soft and slow. Sam froze beneath you, and you quickly pulled back, but before you could panic he was returning his lips to yours. Your eyes fell closed as his thumb found the side of your face, brushing along your cheekbone as he tilted your chin up to gain better access to your mouth. Sam’s hand wandered to your waist, clutching you close against him as he twisted his neck to deepen the kiss, the press of his mouth on yours a far more important cause than maintaining his own comfort; your smile, captured in the gentle exploration of his lips over yours, made the straining of his muscles worth it.

But as all good things do, the kiss came to an end. You couldn’t keep the smile from your face as you leaned into Sam’s chest, closing your eyes as his lips found your hair, whispering his goodnight into your scalp. But as sleep began to carry you off in her gentle waves, your mind couldn’t help but drift to Dean - in the bunker that felt more than a thousand miles away, the other side of his bed cold but for the empty bottle he was surely nursing. Dean - still sleeping alone.

His tired, green eyes were the last sight your mind conjured, before sleep finally washed you away.

__________

Read part six here!

Buried Secrets tags: @clarinette07 @demonsofhunting @carryon-doctor-lock @coupleofgoons @colie87 @non-exclusive-trash @txnii-hxrdyy @spaghettiwoes

Forever Tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme @spnlovr73 @kina666 @liviaolivia @simplyxparker @helpmeluci @demonsofhunting

Sam tags: @sammys-dimpless

Dean tags: @polina-93 @justagirlinafandomworld @coupleofgoons

If you want to be added to any of my tag lists, let me know!

[kpop-scenarios-theaddiction]

Red - Part 5 (Jungkook stripper au!)

   Y/N was having a hard time trying to walk in her new high heels, it was nothing new, she wore then since she started dancing at clubs late at night, but these high heels were so different from the ones she used to wear. This one was classy, clean, discreet, totally the opposite of the ones she buried somewhere at her closet in Jungkook’s house. Yes, another thing she was having a hard time was calling that place hers, it still felt so weird getting used to this new everything.

           But she tried to concentrate in other stuff to get her head clean, also a deep breath would be nice. She was at Jungkook’s workplace, he wasn't answering his phone, so she got worried, maybe he was just at a reunion or he could be seriously injured, just in a few months with him, she got to see him getting little injuries here and there.

           He was kind of clumsy and distracted, Y/N always telling him to be more careful, deep down she thinks that certain trait of him as cute and slowly they were getting to know each other, she was liking find this new side of his that was so much different than what he shows to the world, he wasn’t so bad as she thought before. She smiled with that thought, while holding a bottle of soju that it was meant for sharing with Jungkook to commemorate that they were doing so well despite everything

Y/N knocked on the door, but no one answered, maybe he wasn’t there? Well, the door was opened, so she entered the place, the first one seemed to be for his secretary, but she wasn’t there either. It started to look weird to Y/N, then she went ahead and opened the next door, this one had Jungkook’s name on it, surely it was his office.

The scene before her got her so shocked that all her nerves collapsed, the bottle of soju went straight to the ground, shattering in a million of pieces, making a sharp sound and spilling all its content on that shiny floor, also making her fall on her knees, cursing herself at her mind for not being able to quickly recover her senses and prevent the accident, and started feeling a bit of pain on her ankle.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? I said I would go meet you for lunch!” Said Jungkook.

Y/N was so shocked that she opened her mouth and no sound came out of it, the only thing that she could concentrate was on that girl wearing a super short and tight skirt sitting on Jungkook’s desk in front of him, her stiletto nails scratching his tie and her legs lots more apart than necessary, like some animal desperate for attention.

She didn’t know what to do, so she did the first thing that came to her mind, she ran away, while hearing Jungkook screaming her name. She got out of there faster as she could, many people tried to greet her in the way, but she answered to no one and no one would know why because she kept her head down so her hair would cover her face and no one would see her eyes filled with water.

           Y/N was feeling horrible, almost in panic, so she wanted to go somewhere where she could feel safe again, and in the time, it wasn’t Jungkook’s huge mansion. In that moment a familiar place showed in her mind, it was a tiny apartment where she spent the last few years, first as a waitress and then as a stripper.

She walked through those alleys absentmindedly because her foot already knew the way, she wasn’t looking at the street boards, her mind was still at the office. she couldn’t believe, all those pretty words he said, now she could see, he really didn’t mean it, they were just worthless words nothing more than that.

She stopped in front of the door, it was dusty, the paint was cracking apart, but still was her apartment. The girl got the old key that she refused to throw it away and tried to open the door, but she couldn’t cause the key she had didn’t even entered the lock. She was confused, “what the hell?” she thought.

Obviously, she wouldn’t open that door so fast and she wanted to know why. So, she walked some more of the corridor and knocked on another door. She heard chains being moved and after that someone opened the door, it was a guy, black hair as black as the circles around his eyes.

“Y/N? Is that you? Sweetheart you look awful, what happened?” Said him blinking his eyes, probably lost his lenses again

“Hi Baek, hm, it been a long week” Said her.

“Honey, it’s Monday” Said him inviting the girl in with a gesture.

“Like I said, its been a long week”

“What happened, you got fired again?” Asked him

“No, it’s kind of worse” Said her “I think I wouldn’t been feeling so bad if I just got fired” Said her.

Baekhyun looked at the girl from head to toes and saw her feet bleeding and her ankle was light purple. He made her sit at the sofa before that thing got worse.

“Ok, calm down, I’ll fix that for you” Said him quickly bringing ice and band aids

“Thanks, Baek, you always took care of me so well”

“Ok, What the freaking hell is going on, you visit me on a week day, you're injured, you're dressing fancy and you’re crying. What is going on? Are you on your period?”

“Yes, but that has nothing to do with what’s happening” Said her.

“Ok, so tell me what it is” Said Baekhyun.

“Ok, so I met this guy and he is everything I wanted and more, He's kind and polite and handsome and he's awfully friendly for a not boyfriend, also totally husband material. And he said beautiful things to me and I was dumb enough to believe” Said her crying harder now.

“Ok, so why don’t you take a deep breath cause you're talking really fast and take a sip of water?” Said him “You know what I always told you about boys and how you couldn’t let anyone break your little precious soft heart, Darling”

“I know, that just makes feel even worse. I tried not to fall for him, but it was impossible. And he was having something with me and another girl, and she is so much more than me, prettier and to get him like that I must admit she's smarter than the dumbass that I am.”

“No, no, don’t say things like that, you know you are better than that, you achieved so much, even with what happened to your parents. You may not have this guy you like so much, but remember that you'll always have me, darling” Said him hugging her

“Thanks, Baek, you always know the right thing to say, that’s why you are my best friend, my brother” Said her feeling a bit better in this embrace she knew so well, where she felt so well.

“Okay, now that you remembered that you are an amazing woman, what are you going to do next?” Asked Baek

“I don’t really know, I just want to get him out of my mind, maybe I’ll get my job back” Said Y/N

“What? You got fired?”

“No, actually I quitted” Said her

“What? No way, why?”

“Because of that idiot, he said he had money enough for us both, but since he has a mistress I guess he doesn't needs me anymore, so I’ll move on with my life. Because that’s what I do, I try to get my life back together and everytime I think I got it, actually I was fooled” Said her

“Don’t worry, sis, everything’s going to be fine” Said Baek “Whatever you chose, I’ll support you totally”

“good, cause I’m going to need a few stuff, cause I left part of my stuff at the jerk’s house and the rest is in my apartment, but my key doesn’t opens it anymore” Said Y/N

“Oh, that’s why you were out for some time and the owner wanted to rent the place for some other people, and since you weren't here he wanted to throw all you stuff out, but don’t worry, I kept them all” said the guy

“seriously? That’s great, thank you so much baek, you’re the best”

“So that means you’re going to work tonight?”

“Of course I will, I need money to eat” Said her

“”Well, then I’m going to work too, you motivated me, seriously, the place went boring after you left”

“But now I’m totally back in” Said her opening all the boxes and looking at that huge high heals, tight dresses, mini skirts and other stuff a stripper could have.

Later that night Y/N and Baekhyun went to the club, she much rather being partying but the reality was that she went to work. Everyone greeted her and said how much they missed her.

The atmosphere was the only thing that hasn’t change at all, the same drunk people, loud electronic music, people grinding on each other right there.

But something that changed for sure was Y/N. This time she wasn’t going to stay just at the bar, She was going to pole dance, something that she was insecure before, but something happened and that changed, tonight she was feeling confident, she felt powerful in those high heals, her wavy hair was on point and her dress had a crevice that made her legs super sexy, not to talk about the cleavage that made men wish they could see more.

She started to dance, spinning around the pole, going up and down, dancing like she was flying, felling free from the chains of those bourgeois and their rules, labels.

Y/N wasn’t like that and she even tried to fit in that world, but now she knew that for sure that she would never belong to that world. Her world was here, at the streets, at the bars, at the club, at the most dark nights.

Soon some men gathered around her and started throwing money at her, or putting at her bra strap when she gave them the privilege to get near her.

Jungkook knew she wanted him to be more than just her boss and ignored, he wasn't interested, he had Y/N and she was all he wanted and needed. But the girl was insistent to the point that started to annoy him.

But he thought that if he didn't show interest she would give up, he was wrong, instead of doing that she did the exact opposite and insisted even more, leading Jungkook to get more annoyed, the worst proportionality. But now he was trying to calm down.

That girl was gone, probably choosing her next target, now wasn't the moment to think of how much he hated her, he needed to concentrate and use his dumb brain to formulate some coherent thought to get to Y/N and pray to her to forgive him. Things were going so well, why did this had to happen?

Where she could be right now, he tried her phone, but of course she wasn't answering, he was already expecting that. But with a little hope that she would answer, he would be happy  even if she screamed at him and called him names.

But she didn't do any of that, and he started feeling bad again and he didn't like it, it bring memories he rather forget forever, if only existed amnesia for bad memories he would be the first one in the line to experience it.

But technology didn't reach that point yet and he had to deal with that and deal alone. But he knew he was strong enough to do it. managing his life like he did required being strong, especially since a young age as it was his case.

He turned his chair from the window to his table, grabbed his phone and started tapping fast, someone of that city had to know where Y/N was. He got even more nervous thinking about the possibility that she could have left the city.  If she did that his chances of finding her dropped significantly.

And he waited for anyone to answer, he was getting desperate, he would follow any trail he received. Finally his phone ringed and he read the message right away. He couldn't believe the words, it was the least place she could be and he even didn't think it was possible and he was wrong, not surprisingly, again.

He ran to his car and drove crazily fast, every red light made him want to shatter the window besides him. He entered to the club, giving means glances to security asking who he was and the surprise look on their faces when they recognized him.

The place was insanely hot, forcing him to get off his suit and loose his tie, he couldn't believe owned such a property.

But this thought vanished quickly, being replaced with shock when he saw one of those pole dance girls, it wasn’t any girl. It was his girl and many guys were looking at her with predators eyes, which made Jungkook very pissed, blood boiling in his veins.

He went to the stage and grabbed her by the arm, hearing lots of boos from the disgusting men that was old enough to be her dad. He went straight to the back door and in his car, trying to arrange the seatbelt, which Y/N seemed to be very against of it.

Everytime the seatbelt was ready, she pulled off, being very pissed herself. She was drunk, but that didn't mean her mind was messy and that she forgot anything. So she slapped sharply his face and scratching it with her sharp nails.

The silence between then was fast, but it seemed to last an eternity.

“let me go!” screamed her trying to open the door, but it was closed  “Open the door”

“No, we’re going home” Said him starting the engineer

“mine or yours?” Asked her

“what do you mean? We’re married, it’s our house, our hearts belong there” Said him

“My heart has no home, just dumb me thought it had” Said her managing to unlock the door and before getting out she said “And I want the divorce”

[javistg]

Friends.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything but, as I was getting ready to start working on my submission for the @everlarkficexchange, this little idea popped into my head. Inspiration has been so scarce lately that I decided to run along with it.

Set during CF. Canon compliant-ish. Hope you enjoy.

XXXXX

The golden light of dusk painted the houses of Victors’ Village when Katniss came back from her day in the woods. 

She’d had a good day. Early autumn had brought clear blue skies and a gentle breeze. She hadn’t brought any squirrels down but, for the first time since she’d come back from the Games, Katniss had managed to shoot her bow without regrets or second thoughts. 

She had almost reached her house when the sound of a door closing behind her caught her ear. Curious, she turned towards the sound. She immediately wished she hadn’t.

Peeta was standing on his front porch. The thin cane he usually used to walk around was nowhere to be found. 

A pang of longing tugged her heart at the sight of him looking healthy and strong in an olive green leather jacket that hugged his shoulders and gray trousers; beautiful, understated clothes that could have only come from Portia’s talented hands.  

They hadn’t spoken in weeks —she still didn’t have any answers for him, no words of comfort, no explanations that could mend his broken heart— but she wished they could talk. Even if they hadn’t known each other for very long, she missed him. 

Feeling her eyes on him, Peeta turned around. 

A shocked little gasp left Katniss’s lips as her mouth dropped open. Peeta’s blond hair had been carefully styled, but his cheek was swollen. An angry purple bruise covered the left side of his face marring his handsome features.

Her first instinct was to rush to him and ask if he was ok, but the warning in his eyes stopped her short. Whatever had happened, was none of her business. 

With a curt nod, Katniss took a step back, stiffly turned around, and walked straight into her house. 

XXXXX

The sound of heavy footsteps and hushed voices startled her awake later that night. Apprehension coursed through her veins as she rushed to the window and peeked outside. 

Two men —miners, by the look of their worn out clothes— walked alongside Peeta. The victor was leaning heavily on them, dragging his feet as they practically carried him back to his house. 

Katniss clenched her jaw. A mix of anger and concern bubbled inside her warming her veins. He’s drunk as a skunk! 

Fuelled by annoyance, Katniss slipped on the pair of clogs she kept by her bed and ran down the stairs.  

Without even knocking, she let herself into Peeta’s house and followed the sound of slurred voices all the way to the kitchen. 

She walked in just as the men were helping Peeta onto one of the chairs surrounding the kitchen table. 

“There you go,” the oldest of the two men said, gently patting Peeta’s back. “You’re home now.”

“Thank you,” Peeta mumbled, leaning forward to rest his forehead on the kitchen table. 

 The men stepped away from the victor and straightened up. Their Seam grey eyes snapped open at the sight of Katniss standing by the kitchen door.  

The younger man averted his eyes and cleared his throat. No words came from his lips. His companion recovered more quickly. “Night, miss Everdeen,” he greeted.

The formality in the miner’s tone made her smile. Victors in Twelve didn’t exactly command the respect they did in other districts, --Haymitch had been the butt of hundreds of jokes throughout the years-- but people didn’t usually mess openly with them either. It was too close to defying the Capitol. 

Still, she couldn’t help but feel that there was something sweet in the way the district had taken care of her and Peeta since they’d come back —almost as if they’d all become infected by her co-victor’s kindness. “Good night,” she whispered.

Alerted by the sound of Katniss’s voice, Peeta looked up. His hair, so carefully styled in the afternoon, was all mussed up with blond strands sticking out every which way. 

Ignoring the stench of white liquor lingering in the room, Katniss inspected the bruise on Peeta’s face. It was darker than she remembered. Even with the liquor, it probably hurts like hell.  

The raw hurt in Peeta’s eyes told her the pain on his cheek was the least of his concerns.

Looking away from her district partner for a moment, Katniss spotted a basket full of muffins on the counter.  Without a word, she walked over to them and grabbed a couple.  She walked back to the miners and moved to press the muffins into their hands.

The men balled up their hands and shook their heads. 

“It’s late,” Katniss insisted, “and it’s a long way back to the Seam.”  

The older miner was the first to relent. He opened his palm and accepted Katniss’s offering. The younger quickly followed.

“We’ll be leaving now,” the older man said. “Unless you need anything else?”

Katniss shook her head. “Thank you. I can take it from here.”

Both men nodded. As they were turning to leave, the young miner found his voice, “Night, miss Everdeen.”

“Good night,” Katniss called back. 

As soon as she heard the front door close, she turned to look at Peeta. A million questions danced in her head but she knew she was in no position to ask most of them. Still, something was wrong, she couldn’t walk away. 

Squaring her shoulders, she asked, “What happened?” 

Peeta shrugged. “I fell.”

“You fell… On your face?”

“Yup. I fell on my face.”

Katniss shook her head. She didn’t believe him. The idea was so absurd it made her want to laugh —she probably would have if she hadn’t been so worried about him. “It’s a bit swollen. Would you like me to take look at it?”

“Nah. I’m fine.” Peeta moved to stand, but the look of concern on her face made him falter. The last thing he wanted was her pity. He slumped back onto his chair and looked away. “Why don’t you just go back to your boyfriend? I don’t need your help.”

Irritated by Peeta’s dismissal, Katniss yelled, “Stop calling him my boyfriend!”

Her outburst surprised him, but he was too drunk to be truly rattled. Leaning back into his char, he asked,  “What should I call him then?”

“How about you don’t call him anything?” Crossing her arms, she glowered at him. “How about you just stop talking about him altogether?”

“So… What? I’m not aloud to talk about Gale Hawthorne now?”

Katniss rolled her eyes. “You know what? No, you’re not.” 

As soon as the words left her lips she knew how absurd they were. Who was she to tell Peeta who he could or couldn’t talk about? The amused smirk on his lips told her he was reading her like an open book so, she tried again, “I honestly don’t see why you need to mention Gale at all but, if you must, you can refer to him as my hunting partner or my friend. That’s it! That’s all he is.”

“Come on, Katniss!” Peeta’s head lolled back, and he let out a bitter chuckle.

“Come on what? I’m telling you the truth. Why is it so hard for you to get it?”

Peeta straightened up a bit. His eyes found hers, as drunk as he was, they were surprisingly alert. “Because I’ve seen you with him.”

“You’ve seen me with him,” she repeated mimicking his drunken slur. “What does that even mean?”

Peeta’s voice was calm and collected, thick with yearning. “I’ve seen the way you smile at him; the way you stand by his side —so close to each other your arms almost touch. I’ve spent ages watching the way you let him take the lead whenever he’s around… you’ve always seemed so…”

“So…” she prompted, genuinely curious of where he was heading.

Peeta shrugged. “Together.”

“Together?”

“Yeah, like a couple.” Peeta’s face crumpled. 

Tears welled in Katniss’s eyes. It was like being back on the train tracks all over again. How could she stand in front of Peeta, watching his heart break, while she held her tongue?

In a couple of strides, she closed the distance between them, pulled out a chair, and sat down. Looking straight into his eyes, she said, “Well… we’re not.” At Peeta’s disbelieving look, she added, “Listen, Gale is a part of me --a big part. We’ve been friends for a long time and he’s like…  like family to me.” 

“Like a cousin?” Peeta joked.

Katniss shook her head. She hated that the Capitol had labeled Gale as her cousin but, for the purpose of this conversation, the label seemed appropriate. “I don’t know what I would have done without him all these years, you know? He’s always had my back.” A lonely tear ran down her cheek. Using the back of her hand, she hastily wiped it away. “I know I’ll never be able to repay him for what he did for my mother and Prim while I was away.” 

Absentmindedly, she began playing with one of the buttons of her sleep shirt. The thread was about to come loose. “I think I know what you mean, though —about the way we look together— but we’ve never been a couple.” She was so lost in her thoughts that her next words slipped from her lips ,“I just don’t like him that way.”

Peeta nodded, understanding slowly sinking in. “But he does.”

Katniss pursed her lips. She wanted to deny Peeta’s theory, but she knew she couldn’t. “Yeah.”

“Has he ever said anything?”

Katniss shook her head. “I think he wanted to. I think he was waiting to age out of the reaping to say something, but then…”

“You volunteered.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Peeta’s voice was as soft as a caress. “What would you have said —you think— if he had asked?”

“I would have said ‘no’.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

“Because you don’t like him like that,” he said, carefully enunciating the words.

“Yeah, and because I’m never getting married,” she blurted.

Peeta eyes popped open. “Since when?”

She tilted her head, slightly confused by his question. “When did I decide?”

Peeta nodded.

“After my father died.”

Peeta’s brow furrowed. She could almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he tried to make sense of her words. The alcohol coursing through his system wasn’t helping much.  

Before he could ask her anything, Katniss explained, “Love is a luxury I couldn’t afford, Peeta. It makes us vulnerable.” Reaching out, she began combing his messy waves with her fingers. “How can I risk falling for someone who might be taken away from me? How can I have children when I know they might get reaped?”

Peeta closed his eyes. With a soft groan, he leaned into her touch. “I’m never having children,” he mumbled.

 Saddened by the thought, Katniss lowered her hand to his shoulder. “Were you going to before?”

Peeta straightened up and looked at her. “Before the Game?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I hadn’t given it much thought, but… yeah. I guess I would have.” With slow, clumsy motions he reached for the end of her braid and began twisting it between his fingers. “Do you know how many victors’ children get reaped?”

Katniss nodded. “Too many.”

“Too many,” he echoed.

They stayed like that for a while --wrapped in peaceful silence; stealing shy glances and exchanging tender touches; erasing the cold gap which had opened in the weeks of distance between them. 

Eventually, Katniss reached for Peeta’s cheek. He winced a bit at her touch, but didn’t pull away. “What happened?” she asked again now that annoyance had given way to concern.

Peeta dropped down his head. “My mother.”

Katniss’s eyes hardened. “Why?”

“Because I let my guard down.” Smiling in spite of the pain, Peeta pressed the pad of his thumb over her furrowed brow. “Don’t look so concerned. I was an idiot today and so was she. It won’t happen again.”

Katniss swallowed thickly. She had spent the last couple of months avoiding Peeta —too afraid of dealing with the pain she had caused him— but, now that they were talking again, she remembered how much she liked being with him; how much he meant. She didn’t want to push him away again. “I hate seeing you hurt,” she admitted. 

The crooked smile she had missed so much settled on his lips. “Believe me, I don’t enjoy it much either.”

In spite of herself, Katniss laughed. “What am I going to do with you?”

Peeta reached for one of her hands and tenderly placed it between his. “How about you be my friend?”

Katniss’s heart picked up its pace. After everything they’d been through, she had never imagined Peeta would want her friendship. “Your friend?”

Peeta nodded. “Just my friend. What do you say?”

Hope, warm and sweet, blossomed in Katniss’s chest. Smiling, she nodded. “Ok.”

[daysswithyou]

Hot and Cold Part I

Characters: DAY6 Dowoon x OC

Genre: fluff, slice of life

Words: 1.7k

Description: What is likely to happen when the hot and cold fall into a tumbling mess.

part ii

---

The big metal doors clanged shut with a large bang behind, making you wince in pain at the loud noise assaulting your sensitive nerves. The disgruntled sigh that came from your school’s security guard made you shrink, guilt crawling its way into your heart. You felt bad that you stayed so late in school and delayed the closing of the school for the school but there was some urgent student council matters to handle and being it’s president, you had no choice but to stay back and plough through the thick stack of paperwork.

I bet the school security guard hates me now…

As you muttered a mental apology to the school security guard, you noticed your bus zoom past your sight and that’s when the urgency of the situation hit you.

The next bus stop was 5 minutes away by foot,

The bus would reach in 2 minutes,

And that was the last bus of the night.

To make the situation worse, the rain was pounding onto the pavements mercilessly, the impact of the rain onto the ground making the small droplets rising up to your knee level. The first thought on your mind was simply to run, and that’s exactly what you did. Holding onto the contents of your backpack to make sure that they don’t fall out, you ran after the bus frantically, taking in mouthfuls of rain as you gasped for breath. Thankfully, you managed to catch the bus in time but by that time, you were soaking wet. Water droplets was literally dripping from your clothing, your hair was stuck in your face and you were coughing rather violently in an attempt to rid all that extra water from your body system. As you got onto the bus, the first sensation you were aware of was the cold. The air conditioning was on and coupled with your wet self, the entire bus felt like Antarctica to you. As the passengers threw dirty stares your way, you tried to hurry along the aisle to find a seat at the back and eventually, you slumped into the seat and curled your body, trying to conserve as much body heat as possible. As a pool of water began to form steadily around you, no one was within a three seat radius of you and you didn’t even have the energy to feel hurt or guilty anymore. All you could think of is how terribly cold you are and how much you wished you had a jacket with you now.

So of course, when someone sits down beside you, it caught your attention. Looking up, you see a familiar face. Squishy cheeks, curly dark hair and contrasting deep set eyes that always make him seem more mature than his actual years. Yoon Dowoon, the basketball star of your school, was sitting right next to you.

But that isn’t the most shocking thing.

Him giving you his jacket is.

But when he drapes his black basketball jacket over you, you don’t protest. Instead, you snuggle deeper into the warm jacket, extremely grateful for the residual heat left behind. You mumble out a weak “Thank you”, your teeth chattering so much it’s making it hard for you to speak coherently. When he shifts closer towards you, you naturally scoot away, afraid that your backpack and you are taking up too much space. But when you feel him scoot closer the second time, you start to wonder why.

What is he doing? Is he going to try something funny? But he isn’t that type of guy right? It also doesn’t make sense for him to be nice to me and then try to harm me later.

That’s when realisation hit you.

Oh… he’s trying to keep me warm with his body heat…

At this point, you let your guard down, close your eyes and drift off to sleep for a little while. The next time you awake, he was gone and you had reached your stop. Your hand instinctively curled around the jacket and you held onto it tightly until you got home. That’s when you were stripped bare of all your possessions including his jacket before being sent into the hot shower by your concerned mother. You hadn’t even noticed you had brought him his jacket until your mother questioned you about it.

“Y/N are you dating?”

“What’s with that weird question? Of course not. I don’t even have time to sleep, how on earth am I supposed to find time to date?”

“Then whose jacket is this?”

“Mum what are you talking about? That is clearly mi – oh.”

The name “Y.DOWOON” and number “25” was stencilled in big white fonts at the back of his jacket.

“Who’s Dowoon, and why do you have his jacket?”

“He’s my school’s star basketball player. I was soaked just now so he lent me jacket to keep me warm. I didn’t even notice that I had brought it home. But don’t worry Mum, I swear I’m not lying and that I’m not dating him, or anyone.”

“Don’t get yourself into a twist honey. I believe you if you say so. Just got some rest now.”

You nodded your head as she left your room, the lights outside dimming as she retires for the night. As for you, you absentmindedly admire his jacket, running your hands across his name and feeling the soft fabric under your skin.

I should probably wash this; it must be dirty from all that rain water. Let’s check if he has anything in the pockets.

Turning the pockets inside out, your fingers came into contact with the rougher surface of a piece of paper and you smoothened it out before reading the small, neat font which you assumed was Dowoon’s penmanship.

 I didn’t take the jacket back because you looked like you needed it more than I did. You can return it to me whenever you see me in school. Take care.

 You smiled at the sweet gesture and placed it neatly on your table before proceeding to wash the jacket.

 -

The next day in school, with the jacket in hand, you walked up to your friend whom was a fan of the school basketball team on Dowoon’s whereabouts.

“Hey Emma, do you know where the basketball team is?”

“Yea. What’s the matter though? Are you going there to cheer on a special someone?” She then wiggled her eyebrows at you before snatching the jacket out of your hands to reveal Dowoon’s jacket in front of the whole school.

“HOW DO YOU HAVE HIS JACKET? TELL ME THE TRUTH – WHAT IS GOING ON?”

You took back the jacket defensively before folding it neatly in your arms.

“Goodness Emma that was uncalled for! Can you just tell me where they are if you know? I’ll explain later.”

“Ok you better! They’re in the basketball court now playing a match. It starts at 10.10am.”

You quickly worked out the timings in your brain.

It’s 10am now and the match starts in 10 minutes. I won’t have time to make it there in time. Should I just return it to him after the match?

But then, you realised that was not an option. Their basketball coach focuses a lot on unity right down to their attire. It’s a school tradition for the whole school team to appear on court with their jackets on and you’ve seen what happened when someone doesn’t: they don’t get to play for the whole game. It is unreasonable, yes, but an issue that is out of your control as well.

I can’t make him lose his opportunity to play; I got to get this to him now!

Without thinking much, you pushed past students to reach the basketball court before you missed your window of opportunity. When you got the basketball court, the team was just making their way onto court and you could easily spot Dowoon amongst the crowd, he was the only one without his jacket. Even down sweat was dripping down your back and every muscle on your body was on fire due to your sudden outburst of running, you simply charged forward whilst calling out his name.

“Dowoon! Wait!”

The male snapped his head to look at you and you tried to stop yourself before reaching him but as luck would have it, the floor was too slippery and you ended up colliding into him before both of you collapsed onto the floor. He broke your fall and his back took most of the impact, which means that you were now lying directly on top of him.

In front of a crowd of thousands of students and teachers.

Your day had quickly gone from hero to zero as the entire court hushed, all pairs of eyes on the both of you.

The predicament caused you to freeze in place; you had never been this physically close to a male before and you didn’t know what to do. For a brief moment, you were aware of his gaze upon your eyes, his breath fanning across your lips and his strong arms on your back.

“Are you ok?”

“Yea I’m fine! Oh gosh I’m so sorry Dowoon, are you hurt?”

“No I’m fine.”

You quickly got off him and helped him up before actually doing what you came to do.

“Here, your jacket. Thank you for last night and eh… good luck for the match!”

“Thank you.” He took the jacket and slipped it on and once you were satisfied with what you were seeing, you dashed out of the basketball court, semi hiding your face in your hands as you did. Dowoon watched you as you left the place, shaking his head a little at how goofy you were before taking his place amongst his teammates

-

In the locker room, his teammates began to question him about that little incident.

“Hey Dowoon, what’s up with you and the Council President?”

Wanting to let these events remain private to only you and him, he merely shook his head before pulling the hood over his head. Realising that the jacket smelled like you, he smiled a little to himself picturing your flustered look just now. Plus point: You smell like peaches, which also happened to be his favourite fruit.