#i should not let shows take over my entire life and determine my happiness | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

moni-logues · 1 year ago

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Kintsugi 5

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 7.2k

Content: depression, self-harm (cutting)

A/N: first and foremost, please read the warnings; there's literally only two and one is a pretty significant one so plleeeeasssseeee take heed!!!!!! And let me know if there's anything else I should be tagging for it. Feels too flip for me to ramble in my usual way here given the content of this chapter, so just to say be safe, and I hope you like it! Thank you to my betas @amethystwritesbts @quarter-life-crisis2 @here2bbtstrash

Chapter Four | Masterlist | Chapter Six

Chapter Five - The other shoe

The sun was shining and birds were singing and you wished you were a character in a musical so you could burst into (tuneless) song and run across a field in a circle skirt. You hadn’t felt this good for a long, long time.

“Looks like someone’s in a good mood,” was Taehyung’s greeting to you as you plopped down in your chair next to him. “You get laid or something?”

You had, in fact, got laid last night. It had been even more anxiety-inducing than you had thought it would be, particularly given that Sungbin was a verified Greek god of a man and, well, your body had been through a little since the last time you were fully naked in front of someone new. You had put your body through a lot. The body keeps the score and it also shows the scars. You did not tend to keep them on display and you had hesitated and become awkward and flustered when you remembered them, when you realised he was going to see them, going to see what you had done to yourself.

He didn’t mention them. He didn’t make it weird. He didn’t avoid them nor did he bring extra attention to them. He acted as if they weren’t there at all. Then he made you come until you were seeing stars.

“That good, huh?”

It had been that good. Or maybe it had just been a long time. Either way.

“I think I’m going to fall in love with him, for real,” you said, all dreamy and moon-eyed, staring at your computer screen and seeing nothing but love hearts.

“Girly...” Taehyung’s voice had a slight warning note but you let it wash over you.

“I know, I know, but seriously. I feel happy, Teddy. Legitimately happy. I feel like I can see a future unfolding, a future I might actually want to live in.”

“With Sungbin?”

You shrugged.

“Sure, why not?”

He didn’t answer, not really. You could feel his reluctance; you could almost hear all the questions he wanted to ask. You let him think them. You weren’t going to let anyone burst this bubble.

“What are we doing this weekend, chick?”

You looked up from your desk and took the coffee cup in Taehyung’s outstretched hand. He sat down next to you.

“What do you mean ‘what are we doing this weekend’?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean “what are we doing this weekend”’?”

“What do you mean-”

“No, I’m serious. We always do something, but I haven’t seen you for weeks now.”

“Teddy, we are together every day. You’re seeing me right now!”

“That’s not the same and you know it! You’re reserving all your time for Sungbin these days.”

“That’s not true.”

Not entirely. He wasn’t being fair. It was true that you had seen Taehyung a little less over the past month or so but it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him at all. You had someone else in your life now; you would’ve thought Taehyung would have been a little relieved to get some time back, to be honest.

“Well, what about you?” you asked. “You’re spending all your time with the barista.”

“Hyunjin. And I’m really not. I still have plenty of time for my other friends. For you.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m not making time for you?”

He shrugged.

“I know you’re really into Sungbin right now and things are going well and that’s great. I’m genuinely fucking stoked for you and I hope that it’s everything you want it to be, but I feel a little tossed aside, yeah. Especially because I’m the one who’ll have to pick up any pieces if it goes south.”

That hurt. Coming from Taehyung, that really hurt.

“Why do you think it’ll go south?”

“I’m not saying that it will but you’re honeymooning hard right now and it kind of feels like you’re putting a lot of eggs into one basket. You’re ditching me to spend all your time with a guy you’ve know-”

“I’m not ditching you!”

“I’m just saying you’re letting yourself be taken over by this. You haven’t seen me outside of work for ages. I know you didn’t go to therapy last wee-”

“How do you know that?”

“I know when your appointments are and you were posting on Instagram with a cocktail in your hand at the time.”

“What makes you think I didn’t rearrange the session?”

“Did you?”

No, you didn’t. You skipped that one. Just one. That would hardly hurt. And you were feeling so happy right now, the need for therapy had receded a little, dipping past the horizon, not entirely out of sight, but almost out of mind.

“That is exactly what I’m saying-”

“No, what exactly are you saying? Is this about wanting to see me more or is it about telling me that me and Sungbin are going to crash and burn?”

You could feel tears burn in your eyes and you desperately wanted not to cry. You always cried. All the time. It was exhausting and embarrassing and you were at work, right now – you didn’t have time for this.

Taehyung’s eyes softened and this made your tears well even more.

“I’m saying that I miss you and I’m worried. You are acting like he’s fixed you, like the only problem in your life was that you were single and now you’re not so everything must be perfect. But that’s not how things work and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not stupid,” you spat, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I don’t think he’s fixed me. I think he likes me. And I like him. And we are together-”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Have you had that conversation? Are you together?”

“Well-… What about you and Hyunjin? Have you had that conversation?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “We’re keeping it casual for now.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. You hadn’t talked to Sungbin about it because you didn’t think you had to. You thought you were on the same page. Isn’t that what dating was? You dated and then, if you kept dating, you were in a relationship. It was automatic, by default. Why would you date someone if you didn’t want to keep doing it? If you didn’t imagine a relationship with the person, what was the point?

You managed to blink your tears away but an uneasiness had settled in your stomach. What if you’d got it all wrong? Did Sungbin want to keep it casual? You didn’t. It was already too late for that. You were a goner.

Maybe Taehyung was right.

Was he?

You sniffed.

“Well maybe Sungbin and I aren’t.”

“Does he know that?”

Fresh tears. Anxiety. Your old friend insecurity crawling up your throat again. You should have known that this was coming, that there was a line you needed to acknowledge and either cross together or not at all. It hadn’t been like this with San because you had known each other so well before you got together, it really had been a foregone conclusion. This time, though... And there was so much Sungbin didn’t know about you, so much you knew you would have to share at some point and didn’t want to. The thought of revealing your ugliest self to him – to him, a flawless specimen of a man, inside and out, his parents’ pride, and the person you thought most about – was nauseating.

You stood and walked off to the printers, pausing there only long enough for you to realise there was nothing you could pretend to print. Then you carried on to the kitchen, making yourself another coffee, even as the one Taehyung brought you was sitting, steaming, on your desk.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began, sitting across from Sungbin at an outside table, running your finger up the wet glass of your iced latte. “What are you doing for Halloween?”

He looked a little taken aback.

“Halloween? In October?”

“Yeah!”

You held your palm tight against your glass, the discomfort of the cold playing distraction. You were trying to be casual about this. It was normal. Of course you’d make plans. Why wouldn’t you? You fought off the voice in the back of your head saying that you wouldn’t if you were just ‘keeping things casual’. That was why you had to ask.

“I... have no idea yet. It’s only August.”

“That is true, but I’ve been thinking. Teddy always has this massive party for Halloween and does costumes and everything and I would like, this year, to outdo him.”

The party thing was true. Taehyung did throw one every year. And he did always have a good costume... You also always had a good costume, because he planned and bought it for you, but Sungbin didn’t need to know that part.

“Wow, if he’s planning it this early, it must be big.”

“Oh, no, he’s not yet, but I want to get a head start. Like I said, this year I think we can beat him at his costume game.”

“We?”

“Yeah, there are so many good couple costumes out there; it’ll make more of an impact if we do it together, right? Two is more than one etc.”

“Right, yeah, uh... Sure.”

“We don’t have to decide right now, but get your thinking cap on. I am going to destroy Teddy this year and you’re going to do it with me!”

He chuckled a little and you thought this was good. Halloween was, as he suggested, months away, but he hadn’t said no. That counted for something. You ploughed on.

“Also, what do you think to a double date?”

“Oh. Um, who with?”

“Teddy and Hyunjin. They actually got together the night we met! Might be fun. Also, to be honest, I really want Teddy to meet you. It’s been long enough, haha; you need his seal of approval!”

“A test?”

“Yep. He’s my bestie so he has to approve.”

“Right. Yeah... Ok. You and he are really close, then?”

“Yep. And, besides, it gets to a point where someone’s seen you have enough breakdowns that you have to keep them close: he knows too much!”

There was a pause and you could see Sungbin considering his words. You fought the urge to move it on, to brush over it, to drop a hundred words a second to blow past it. But you also just had to... check, to let him know, to try to drip-feed him the information you, truthfully, didn’t want him to have but knew that he had to have, if this was ever going to be serious. It made you anxious, slowly revealing your brokenness to him, pushing him closer and closer to the threshold at which he might say ‘stop, that’s enough; I don’t want you anymore’. He hadn’t yet, but you’d barely begun.

“Breakdowns, huh?”

“Yep. Although, actually, while it was Teddy who held me together after the break-up, it was my ex who really did the heavy lifting before that.”

Sungbin nodded thoughtfully and you didn’t know if you imagined his eyes flicking down to your thighs or not. Probably imagined. But it wasn’t like the two didn’t go hand in hand.

“Sounds rough.”

“It was. Both times, haha.”

He nodded again.

That was enough, you thought. That had to be enough disclosure for now. You could feel it pressing on you, like the oppressive summer humidity; you felt stifled by your exposure, almost a little giddy with the force of your discomfort. If this is what it was like, revealing your darkness to someone, you crossed all your fingers, hoped, and prayed that this thing with Sungbin would last so that you would never have to do it again.

You went home with him that night and there was a background buzz of something in your head, this kind of vertigo-swirling of standing too close to the edge of a cliff, an unsteadiness of foot that Sungbin was able to kiss away but which came back two-fold when you were lying naked in his bed. You tried to look at yourself, discreetly, objectively; what did you look like to him? Was he looking at you differently now, tonight, armed with new knowledge? What did he really know? What had he taken from the things you had said? You didn’t want to ask him, didn’t want to talk about it more, didn’t want to have to explain and elucidate and make explicit things that you hoped he would infer.

He didn’t seem different, then, didn’t turn off the light or kiss you goodnight any differently from the way he had before. Maybe it was fine. Maybe your brokenness wasn’t fatal. Or so you could dream.

“Last day, baby!” you cried when Yoongi put his bag on the counter at your very last baking session.

“So it is,” he replied, cool as ever.

You shoved him.

“Be excited! We made it! We’re bakers!”

He rolled his eyes and grinned.

“A rather generous term for yourself, isn’t it?”

You shoved him again.

“How dare you? Do I need to remind you of last week’s triumph? Or should I say my triumph and your tragedy?”

You weren’t being entirely fair. Yoongi’s buns had failed because he had taken on the risk of your illicit ingredient, allowing you to follow the recipe correctly. It was gallant, really. He even said that his buns were alright, not that bad, kind of ok which you knew without having to try them was untrue.

“Should I remind you who is responsible for my tragedy?”

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You grinned at each other and started unpacking your bags. It felt easy between the two of you now. Long gone was your anxiety that used to accompany Thursday evenings, that gnawing embarrassment and glowing shame that you used to feel in Yoongi’s proximity, sure that you were the worst person in the world and that he wanted to get away from you, desperate as you were for his friendship and approbation. You didn’t have to be desperate anymore, because you had it. You were friends. In the spirit of said friendship, you had agreed to celebrate your last baking class tomorrow, so you could get as drunk as you liked without having to suffer the consequences in the office.

“Generous term,” you scoffed, looking at your layered cake at the end of the session, assembled and decorated and still standing. “How very dare you. Look at what I’ve made! I’m a genius!”

Yoongi laughed quietly and swiped a finger through the buttercream frosting on top before you could swat his hand away. He put it to his mouth.

“Yeah, it’s not bad.”

“Not bad!”

You swiped a finger through the frosting on top of his cake.

“Yours tastes like shit.”

“Well, now you’re just being mean and I won’t let you have a slice.”

“Fine.” You turned your back on him to put some things in your bag and then turned back. “I didn’t want to eat your shit cake, anyway!”

“You had better be careful or I’ll bring this as dessert for tomorrow.”

You gasped.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Yoongi turned to face you head-on, a smirk on his lips, mischief in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t I?”

You mirrored his expression and crossed your arms.

“I won’t let you in my apartment.”

“Not even for the booze?”

You faltered. You didn’t buy the expensive shit that he did. You still fully believed that expensive alcohol didn’t give you such bad hangovers. You didn’t want to lose this spat, didn’t want to come out of the bit, but also didn’t want to say no to booze.

“You can leave the booze on my doorstep and go.”

Yoongi broke first and laughed loud, tipping his head back.

“You’re spoilt,” he said.

You sniffed haughtily.

“I deserve nice things.”

Then he gave you that smile that he did sometimes, warm and soft, that made you feel like a broken open caramel truffle, oozing and sweet and sticky, like the two of you were stuck together, sugary fingerprints on your skin and a brown sugar taste on your lips. It was like a secret smile, for special occasions; you wondered who else got to see it.

“Yeah, you do,” he agreed. “Which is why I’m bringing this cake to dinner tomorrow!”

You groaned and pretended to fall, dead, to the floor. Yoongi laughed again.

“I mean it.” He packed the last of his things in his bag. “I’m going to bring this and you’re going to eat it and like it.”

“Over my dead body.”

“If I recall correctly, I do, in fact, owe you a murder, so that can certainly be arranged.”

You both laughed this time and you could think of much worse ways to go, much worse last things to see before you died. Yoongi picked up his stuff and his cake and turned to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“With bells on!” you called after him.

You had taken the Friday afternoon off, just to make sure you had enough time to shop and prepare and, gulp, cook dinner for Yoongi who you were expecting that evening. It was a celebration of your finishing the class but it was also a sign of intention, a new set-up for this kindling friendship that didn’t have anywhere else to meet. You’d take turns: one of you would cook and one would bring dessert and you’d alternate fortnightly. You weren’t sure whether you’d got the short straw to be tasked with dinner first or if you’d rather it were this way. You got the feeling Yoongi was a good cook and you didn’t want to have to follow that, but it felt like a lot of pressure being the first to host. You felt a little embarrassed of your shoebox apartment and cheap things and you knew Yoongi would never care—you knew he would understand completely—but it made you feel a little small, that this was all you had to offer.

Never mind, you said to yourself. He didn’t care and neither would you. It wasn't about the venue; it wasn’t even really about the food. It was about the company. It was about making a space and a time for you and Yoongi to hang out. It was about making a commitment to taking your friendship outside of its bounds and cultivating it. That was what mattered and that was all you needed to focus on.

You were scrolling on your phone, looking for recipes when a message from Sungbin came in.

Sungbin: hey I’m wfh today. I'm about to have lunch can you come over?

Obviously, the answer was yes. You did your best to make yourself look presentable in a rush and hot-footed it across the river to him.

“I ordered food, hope that’s ok,” Sungbin said as he gestured to the dining table where two bags of lunch had been placed.

“Sure! I’ll eat whatever.”

It felt a little strained, like the world had twisted itself into an uncomfortable position, but you put it down to the fact that you had never been to his apartment during the day before. He was also working; maybe he hadn’t shrugged off his focus yet. His job was still new and still stressful and this lunch was interrupting it. He was quiet as he sat down and you felt stifled. He ate a forkful and another. Then he put his fork down.

“Thanks for coming all this way. I really wanted to speak to you but work is really hectic so I can’t get away.”

“Yeah, no worries! I have this afternoon off anyway, so it’s no big deal.”

“Oh right. Good. Um.”

You thought to yourself that you were getting good at this: letting silence reign. Maybe it was all the time you’d spent with Yoongi; maybe it was all the time you’d spent in therapy. Maybe it was a sign that you weren’t letting your anxiety run your mouth anymore – even if you really, really wanted it to.

“I thought we should talk,” is how he began.

“About what?” Your guts twisted as you asked.

“I know you were talking the other day about all sorts of plans and things and I just wanted to be clear about... where we are. What we are.”

“Oh, right.” Your voice was airy and thin, even your lungs being squeezed by this cold-creeping fear working through your body.

“I really enjoy spending time with you and I’d like to continue that but, ah, I’m not looking for anything serious. I don’t want... a relationship, y’know? I just moved here and I’m still finding my feet and getting to know everyone and everything and I don’t want to, uh, settle into anything? And I get the feeling that... you do. I didn’t want, um, wires to be crossed or uh, I didn’t want things to get complicated or- I just thought we should talk before it went on any longer. I wanted to just make myself clear. I would like to keep seeing you but I think you want... more than I do. If I’m wrong, just tell me, sorry if I’ve assumed but I, uh, just, get the feeling...”

“Right.”

Your eyes were already blurry with tears. Here it was. The other shoe dropping. Taehyung was right. Sungbin didn’t want you. Not really. He knew who you were and he didn’t want you. You tried to tiptoe into it; you tried to slowly heat the water in the pan but you’d overcooked it. The frog was jumping out. You wanted more. Too much. More than he wanted. He didn’t want you. He didn’t want you that much. He didn’t want your broken parts. He didn’t want your ugliness. He saw your scars and he heard of your breakdowns and he knew that was ‘more’, too much. He didn’t want to carry you. He would have to carry you if you went on for too much longer. You had to be carried because that’s who you were: you weren’t enough, not even enough to lift yourself up. All your good parts, the shiny parts, the parts you thought you had in you somewhere... It wasn’t enough.

“It’s not-” Sungbin was trying to start again, to explain, to let you down even more gently. “I like you; I think you’re a cool person and we have fun. I just can’t commit to more than that. I don’t want to lead you on or pretend this is going somewhere it’s not. Y’know, I really appreciate you making all these plans and things but that’s just- it's really, well, it’s a bit too much for me right now. Do you know what I mean?”

You nodded and hummed and bit your lip to stop it wobbling. Your face was burning with embarrassment: that you were being dumped, that you were crying about it when this hadn’t even been real to start with. It had never been what you thought it was. It was just fun. You had pictured parties and holidays and walking off into the sunset but that was just you. It had never been that for Sungbin.

He didn’t want you. Like a woodpecker pecking at your skull, it hit you again and again: he didn’t want you. He didn’t want you. You tried to show yourself to him and then he didn’t want you. You took him to your water’s edge and he decided not to swim. You should have seen this coming. You should have heeded Taehyung’s warnings. You should have had this conversation before now.

You could feel yourself spiralling, crumbling, sitting at his table with an uneaten salad bowl in front of you. You couldn’t speak because you didn’t know what to say. ‘Please just love me’? ‘Can’t you change your mind’? ‘What if I were different’? ‘I can change’? Would anything make a difference? You couldn’t be different. Not really. It hit you at that moment: you would always be you. All of these things that you had been doing to try to change, to be better, to grow, to stop being such a mess all of the time. They wouldn’t work. Couldn’t work. Couldn’t change who you were. What you were. You’d always just be... this.

“Yeah, I understand,” you whispered, your voice trapped in your strangled throat. “I have to go.”

You stood and whirled around, heading immediately for the door, shoving your feet in your shoes any which way, as long as they stayed on long enough for you to escape.

“No, wait, hold on!” Sungbin called, following after you. “Don’t just go, please. I want to talk- I don’-”

But you were opening the door and running down the corridor and he was calling, but not running, after you.

You wanted to break down, just fall to the floor in a heap and stay there until the ground ate you up but you had to get out of his building. The lift was stifling, a too small metal box with mirrored walls that showed you your red eyes and running nose and face contorted with the effort of trying not to cry, with the fact that you were crying anyway.

You had never felt so stupid. Humiliated. You wanted to scrape your skin from your body with the shame of it. Of course he didn’t want a relationship with you. A man who already loved you and loved you for years didn’t want a relationship with you anymore; why would Sungbin, with the world at his feet, settle for you?

You were crying on the subway again. You had sworn you wouldn’t do that. Not after the break-up. Not once you’d finally stopped crying over San. You weren’t going to be that person, that’s what you’d said. No one took any notice; no one said anything; everyone averted their eyes, but you could still feel their attention, were still so aware of the way they were not noticing you. You were a weirdo, a pathetic woman crying on the subway in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

When you got off the train, you considered throwing yourself on the tracks. You would never have done it. Too many people around. A traumatised driver. Delayed and cancelled trains. Compounding your worthlessness by ruining other people’s days? You hadn’t sunk that low, not yet.

You traipsed home, your feet feeling lead-heavy, your legs feeling weak and, as soon as the door to your apartment closed behind you, you dropped to the floor. You gasped in huge, choking sobs; you couldn’t see for your tears and could barely breathe. Your chest felt as though it were caving in on you, squeezing the life out of you. You dragged your nails across your skin to try to feel something else, something different, some other kind of pain and then a thought came to you, sharper than it had been for months, clear before where it had been vague. A directive, not just a thought anymore.

There was a reason you didn’t keep razors in the house but your nails certainly weren’t cutting it. Then you remembered the knives Yoongi had bought you, how he had impressed upon you that they were sharp, that they were good quality and barely used so they should still, now, be sharp. You dragged your body to the kitchen counter and ripped open a drawer. You picked one at random – it didn’t matter which – and sat back down. You shuffled to pull off your cycle shorts and there they were, your mosaic thighs, criss-crosses of light, thin lines and thicker scar tissue. You had always taken a weird pride in the neatness of it. You had always cut carefully and deliberately, as though you were creating something other than scars, other than a mess, other than something you had to hide from everyone. You went over them again, re-cutting all the old lines, each sharp slice of pain a relief, grounding, pulling you back from somewhere.

The relief made you feel hysterical, silly even, the strange, old euphoria of hurting yourself, of being in control of that hurt rushing through you and making you dizzy. It was like coming home. Your breathing came more smoothly and your heart slowed and your tears began to dry and you couldn’t stop, not yet. You had to see how far you could go. A little more. You needed just a little more. You had plenty of real estate; you could make more. You could expand the design, your bloody, little, monochromatic Mondrian.

You felt empty when you stopped. Drained. Exhausted. Sick to your stomach. You let yourself fall sideways, lying on your dirty kitchen floor. You had nothing left in you. You lay there, unmoving, letting your brain tell you whatever it wanted. You didn’t care anymore. About anything. You had nothing. You had nothing to give and no one to give it to anyway. If you blipped out of existence, well, that would be the best-case scenario. Like Buffy’s key in reverse. Blink, and you had never existed at all. That would have been nice.

It would still be nice. If you could just disappear off the face of the earth. You couldn’t bear to look towards the future – a future you didn’t want, that you knew wouldn’t be better than this. The thought of it made your soul shrivel, made you dig your nails into your reddened thighs, made you cringe and wince. When would it be over? Why couldn’t it be now?

You distantly heard your intercom ring but it felt as if it were coming from another world. You were gone. You were out of this world. No one missed you. Your apartment was a glitch, a tiny black hole where no one could go and no one wanted to go. It rang for what could have been a short time or a long time—you'd lost all sense of it. Then you heard knocking at your door.

Then more knocking.

Then something akin to thumping.

“Hey,” Yoongi’s voice rang cleanly through the wood and metal. “Are you in?”

Your phone started buzzing noisily on your side of the door, rattling against the floor bar in the entryway. Then there was silence for a while. You assumed he had gone away.

Your door beeped and swung open and there were footsteps, the quiet flomp of shoes hitting the floor, the rustle of a carrier bag. You remembered you had given him your codes in the interest of fairness -- you did have his, after all. You felt so detached from everything that you didn’t know how you felt about that. Yoongi quietly called out for you. You didn’t respond. Didn’t even feel like you could.

Your apartment was small enough that he could survey the entire space in a few small steps, so he would barely have to enter before he would see you. You knew the moment he did; you felt the way the air was sucked out of the room for a second. You felt him freeze, could hear the seconds tick by on the clock on the wall. Then he came into your line of sight, kneeling in front of you, saying your name.

“Fuck, don’t be dead,” he whispered.

He held his hand underneath your nose and felt you breathing. You felt the weight of the sigh that left him.

“Shit, fuck.”

He bent over, turning his head to try to catch your eyes; you could see him but you weren’t looking at him. You weren’t looking at anything. He was a blurry approximation of a man in front of you. He called your name for a third time.

“You, uh, are you alright? ... fuck, fucking stupid. No, obviously not. Fuck. Ok. Uh. I-. Can I... What can I do?”

You couldn’t give him an answer. It was as if all speech and movement had been taken from you. You really had nothing left. You couldn’t give him anything. You felt like a husk and that was all you wanted to be.

“Shit, what should I do? I.. I do-. Well. Ok. Can you sit up?”

You couldn’t even shake your head. You were aware of him continuing to mutter to himself. He stood up and disappeared for a minute or two; you heard the open and shut of cupboards, the rifling through of your jars and bottles and boxes. He returned with a light load.

“I have to-” he started. “I’m going to. You.. I have to- I'm going to touch you, ok? I have to lift you up?”

He hesitated as he came closer but was firm when he gripped your arms and lifted your body off the floor, pulled you sitting upright. You tipped your head back against the cupboard and a deep sigh pushed air from your lungs.

“I still have to- this might hurt. You don’t have much stuff. I, uh, yeah, ok. I have to clean this.”

You closed your eyes when he pressed a soaked cotton pad to your thigh. The burning sting of antiseptic made you feel a little bit alive but it was so short-lived.

He was muttering again.

“Fucking hell. I can’t. You don’t have anything useful. How am I-. What... This is... Fuck, this is going to need stitches. Is it?”

You’d almost never heard him talk so much, not like this, not to himself, not with all these half-finished, curtailed sentences, this stopping and starting. Yoongi was straight-forward, even when he was feeling chatty. This Yoongi was going around in circles.

When your eyes finally focused on him, he looked pale, paler than usual. A little grey possibly. His mouth was pulled in a taut, grim line when he wasn’t mumbling himself through the task.

“Still fucking bleeding? Shit, did I make it bleed again? I can’t- I...”

He sat back a little and looked at you; his eyes were sharp and focused and you couldn’t look at them. Yoongi took your chin in his hand, less gently than you might have expected, and he held you there until you looked at him.

“How can you not have a fucking first-aid kit? What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” The anger in his voice registered only dimly. “There’s a pharmacy on the corner and I’m going to go there.” He paused and his eyes were steely and his jaw tight as he worked his brain around how to say what he needed to. “I’m going to go and I’m going to come back and if I get back here and you’re dead, I am going to kill you, ok? I know I promised to kill you but I was fucking joking and you’re not allowed to be dead. Is that clear?”

His face softened as he waited for an answer. You managed to nod your head. He held you a few more seconds before he stood and walked out.

It could have been only seconds or it could have been hours until he returned—you neither knew nor cared—but he did return and he dropped a plastic bag on the floor beside you. He tipped it upside down and dumped its contents. He wasn’t looking at you now, not at your face, just at your legs, as he cleaned and tended and muttered to himself some more. He unwrapped bandages and folded over gauze and you let him lift your legs and place them back down. You let him do whatever he needed to, wanted to. It didn’t matter.

When he was finished, he sat back and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and you saw his eyes alight on something to your left. You couldn’t read the expression that came over his face. Something like horror, something like disgust, something like despair. He leaned forward onto his hands and grabbed the offending object; he threw it into the sink with a metallic clatter.

He sat opposite you for some time. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. You felt hollow. You could hear it, the wind howling through your empty spaces. You felt like you were all empty space. Just an echo of nothingness trapped in skin. Every part of you hurt, as if the pain were radiating out from your heart, filling the void inside you with a sharp, persistent ache. You couldn’t talk. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it, to have to hear yourself, hear your existence continuing in the world. It hurt. As long as you were silent, you could fade away, you told yourself. Just disappear. Yoongi would go and you would be alone and you could just disappear.

“Do you want to eat?” he asked. “You should eat.”

The thought evidently set him on a path because he stood and opened your fridge, opened your cupboards, looking for food. He stepped over you and then stopped, foot in mid-air. He turned back to you.

“If I’m going to cook, you’re in the way. Can you move?”

You blinked. You sighed. You looked down. Then you felt his arms wrap around you as he pulled you to your feet. It was an awkward drag and shuffle to the sofa, your feet tripping over themselves, Yoongi lifting but not really carrying you.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said on a heavy exhale as you dropped like a stone onto the sofa. “I’m going to cook now.”

He held a bowl out in front of you and, when you didn’t take it, he picked up your hands and placed them against the ceramic, lowering it all into your lap. Then he sat next to you.

“Eat.”

You looked at the food, steaming hot; it smelt nice. You wondered what on earth it was and how he could have found the right ingredients in your house. You were still not exactly domesticated, despite your efforts. Yoongi kicked your foot.

“I mean it. Eat.”

You sighed and continued staring into the bowl. Eating would mean conceding to living, to staying alive. You felt defeated but you also wanted to avoid this defeat. Everything about you felt wrong. Hideous. Like things were crawling beneath your skin. You didn’t want to continue that existence. You didn’t want to feed it.

Yoongi took the bowl from your hands and placed it on your coffee table.

“Fine,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Absolutely not. You shook your head.

“What do you want to do? I don’t know what to do. What can I do?”

You, again, fell sideways, lying on the sofa with your legs still dangling down. It wasn’t entirely comfortable but that hardly mattered. You couldn’t answer; you didn’t know.

Then Yoongi did something that you wouldn’t in a thousand years have expected him to. Just as you had, in his apartment, weeks ago, he crawled behind you and wrapped his arms around you. You stiffened, convinced for a second you might split and shatter. He was warm and soft and you could smell his hair and his breath tickled your neck and it hurt so much. It all hurt so much.

You breathed in deep and when you exhaled, you choked, crying again. You didn’t know you had more in you. You had thought you were dry, but just as there was no end to your sadness, there apparently was no end to your tears.

You lay there, letting him hold you as you cried, letting the sun lower in the sky, letting the stars come out.

“I’m fucking sick of it,” you gasped. “Sick of it, sick of it, sick of it.”

“Sick of what?”

“Everything. I hate it. I hate everything. I hate it. I hate being alive. I hate being me. I can’t stand it. I don’t know how people do it. I just want it to stop. I just want it to stop.”

“Life?”

“Yeah.”

“I get it. I don’t want you to stop being you, though. For what it’s worth.”

You couldn’t hear that kind of thing. Not now. You couldn’t take it.

“You just don’t know me,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying and thick from new tears.

“Tell me, then.”

“I fucking suck.”

“How?”

“Literally everything I am. Fundamentally flawed. I’m broken and stupid and I can’t be normal and no one can ever love me because I’m this. I’m just this all the time and I can’t get better and I thought that I could but it’s just me and my fucking broken head and I ruin everything. I ruin everything for everyone and always will and no one can stand me. No one can and I don’t fucking blame them. I can’t stand me either. It makes me sick to be such a useless heap of junk. I’m a worthless waste of space because what is the point of me? What do I do? I need people, I cling to people, I make myself their problem until they can’t take it anymore. I’m depressed and stupid and I will never achieve anything and never do anything and I might as well just die right now because who cares? Literally who cares. I tried and I fucking tried but I’m still me and I can’t run from it or change it and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be here. I don’t know what to do anymore. There is nothing for me. The future is black and it’s bleak because I’ll be there. I’m always there. I can’t get away from myself. I can’t bear it. I have to live like this? For years? More and more years? Twenty? Or thirty? Forty years of this? It makes me sick to think about. I can’t think about it. I can’t think about having to be alive like this for another day let alone any longer. I hate it. I hate being me and I hate being alive and I just wish I wasn’t. I wish I could just disappear. I’m a broken, useless, fucked in the head piece of shit and no one will ever love me because they can’t. I’m unlovable. I’m this and it makes me unlovable but I can’t change it so I will always be unlovable and I can’t do it. I can’t live like that. I can’t do it anymore.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath and Yoongi said nothing. He was quiet for long enough for your shame to creep back in, curling its fingers around the door frame and pulling itself in, unbidden and unwanted. You were embarrassed now, again. You felt stupid. Again. You felt pointless and petty and pathetic and you were about to shrug Yoongi off, to tell him to leave, to crawl into your bed and hide under the sheets when his arms tightened around you. You heard as well as felt him take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I understand.”

There was a pregnant pause and Yoongi cleared his throat.

“But I don’t think any of those things about you. For what it’s worth.”

Chapter Four | Masterlist | Chapter Six

#yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fic #bts fic #yoongi angst #bts angst #tw self harm #tw cutting

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specialinterestshows · 6 months ago

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Join your girlfriend’s found family as they prepare Dom for his title match in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow.

Warnings for this section: Social/crowd anxiety, stalking mention, jealousy, PDA, parasocial behavior

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 73 of ?): From One Show To The NXT

Rhea kept a comforting hand on you the entire ride over to the next show while you did your best to stay calm. Dominik was in the back with the both of you and Damian drove, his hand moving over to rest on Finn’s thigh whenever the cruise control was on. Your head was swimming with anxiety, but the warm, loving atmosphere in the car kept it from getting to be too much. Every time you tried to focus on the present, concerns for the future seeped in.

“Thanks again for letting me tag along,” it must have been the third time you’d said it.

Need to remember to call in sick for work tomorrow, but I’m not sure how many sick days I have left.

“Take it easy, chica,” Damian chuckled, eyes fixed on the road, looking like there was nowhere he would rather be.

I’m technically not insured to have someone who isn’t me driving my car, no matter how good Damian is at it.

“Yeah, you’re Rhea’s girl, so you’re pretty much part of the family,” Finn chimed in, smile evident in his voice despite the headrest blocking your view of his face, “Family takes care of family, no hesitation.”

I need to stop looking back, but what if someone’s following us again?

“We should make her an “honorary member of The Judgment Day” shirt,” Dom suggested.

I bet my apartment complex is going to be crawling with creeps when I get back. If it isn’t already.

“I’ll style it for her - I know exactly where to make the first cut,” Rhea insisted, eyes admiring your chest.

How many more panic attacks until they all decide I’m not worth helping?

“Don’t worry, love,” Rhea quietly reassured you, clearly sensing your anxiety, “This next show has a much smaller audience, and JD is getting there ahead of us to make sure we have a path inside that isn’t crowded by fans. We’re all going to do our part to keep people from getting too close to you.”

“Thanks, Rhe. Thanks everyone-“ you said again, before being cut off.

“Fuck’s sake, lass,” Finn’s sigh turned into an amused chuckle as he explained his interruption, “You’ve helped me and Damian get together and you’ve been nothing but good to Rhea - not to mention what the three of you did last night, because I know our man here had the time of his life” - he gestured to a blushing Dominik with a jab of his thumb - “So quit acting like you’re a burden and face it: you’re worth more than you realize.”

This coming from the man whose first words to me were about some money I allegedly owed him? The fact that Finn’s position on you seemed to have completely changed made it difficult to deny the sincerity of his words, leaving you in a stunned silence.

“Good one, babe,” you just barely heard Damian whisper to Finn.

Just as Rhea had promised, JD McDonagh was waiting for the three of you when you pulled into the parking lot, giving the group directions before taking the keys to park the car. JD seemed determined to help and Finn was happy to see him - but Damian definitely wasn’t.

“Cuidado, mi amor,” he muttered, a protective arm around Finn as he watched JD slide into the driver’s seat, “He’s still looking at you a little too long for my taste.”

“You know I only have eyes for you,” Finn reassured Damian, sticking his hand in his boyfriend’s back pocket.

“Yeah, but does he know-“ Damian jumped a bit, presumably in response to the squeeze Finn had given his ass.

Rhea quickly brought up the hand that wasn’t holding yours to stifle her laughter, muffling it just enough for you to catch Damian whispering “brat” to Finn under his breath.

The topic of conversation soon turned to Dom’s match to win back the NXT North American Championship, and before you knew it, you were backstage.

Rhea held your hand tightly as you all walked to the locker rooms. “That’s her” and “belt bunny” were whispered more than once as you walked through the groups of wrestlers, managers, and technical staff. Suddenly, you were self-conscious, trying to fold in on yourself away from all the curious eyes.

Someone whistled suggestively and the entire Judgment Day stopped to look for the source - to no avail. Rhea let go of your hand in favor of putting a protective arm around your shoulders. You held her tight until you were in a less crowded area. Rhea gave you a loving squeeze before following the rest of the group into the locker room to help Dom get ready for his match.

You were about to follow them, until an arm in a dark jacket blocked the closing door.

“Hey, you’re Rhea’s girlfriend, right?”

The question came from a woman dressed in black and silver ring gear. She somehow looked simultaneously bored and threatening, flipping her long, two-toned hair out of her face as she stared you down.

“… Yeah,” you answered reluctantly, “Why?”

“But you’re not a wrestler, are you.”

It was more of a statement, but you confirmed anyway.

“I’m not, no.”

The anxiety was obvious in your voice; maybe that’s what made the woman smirk and lean in before asking:

“So is it true what they say about Rhea?”

“What do they say?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“Jacy! We still need to get ready for the match,” an excitable blonde in matching ring gear ran up and addressed the woman before she could answer you, “Come on!”

Jacy sighed, looking you over before letting out a short laugh and following behind her tag partner.

What do they say about Rhea?

“Babe?” your girlfriend opened the door in front of you, looking confused, “Come join us; we need to know where you are if we’re going to keep you safe.”

You walked in and sat in the corner of the locker room as the others talked strategy - the last thing you wanted was to make the wrong move when Rhea was getting ready for a match.

A buzz made you pull out your phone.

It was Marisol:

“Is this you? Or do you have a twin?”

The message had a photo attached of the same tabloid cover you saw at the hotel that morning, but this one seemed to be sitting at a checkout counter.

You sighed, tapping away at your phone’s keyboard.

“That’s me: Rhea Ripley’s girlfriend.”

Looking over your response as you hit “send,” it dawned on you that another part of this mess was weighing on you in a way you couldn’t have expected: Rhea had become a celebrity because of her own talent, but you were only interesting to the world at large because you were dating her.

Your phone vibrated in your hands: a reply from Mari.

“I actually had to look up who she was - not really into wrestling. Hope you won’t hold it against me.”

You breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as her follow-up text reached you:

“How are you doing, belleza?”

“Overwhelmed” you typed.

Then deleted.

“Stressed” you typed instead.

Then deleted that too.

“Wish I could just go home. But it doesn’t feel safe.”

You typed and hit send.

Marisol responded quickly:

“Let me know if you need to crash at mine, hermosa.”

You were thrown - she barely knew you.

“U-Hauling already?” you reply, avoiding giving an actual response to the offer.

“No need for a U-Haul when you have a truck” was her reply, a winking face ending the message.

By the time your eyes had read down to the emoji, another message from popped up from Mari:

“Kidding. But if you do move someplace, you can use my truck if you smoke me out after.”

“Did you hear me, love?” Rhea’s voice made you look up from your phone.

Not only did you miss what your girlfriend had said, you hadn’t noticed JD was now in the locker room as well.

“I didn’t, sorry,” you admitted, gauging her reaction.

“I said all of us are going to be out there,” Rhea said, unfazed, “So you might be on your own for a little while, but I’ll have JD run back to you after he’s done his part. Sound good?”

You nodded and she smiled before turning to Finn and Damian. Looking over at a slightly fidgety Dominik, you tune out Rhea’s lecture about postposing the eye-fucking until after the title had been won.

“Nervous?” you asked your metamour.

“A little,” he said, moving to sit next to you on the bench, “Everyone is counting on me.”

“Anything I can do to help you with your match?” you asked, knowing it was unlikely but still wanting to offer.

He looked away for a moment, a blush blooming on his face.

“A kiss for good luck?” Dom asked finally.

“…Don’t get used to it,” you replied, holding his chin gently as you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“So they get to be distracted and we don’t?” Finn asked, making Damian laugh.

“That kiss was more chaste than any single time the two of you have looked at each other since you met,” Rhea insisted, “Now let’s get back to business.”

[end part seventy-three of ?]

Part 74: https://www.tumblr.com/specialinterestshows/751959352476368896/absolute-smokeshow-part-74-of-locker-room

Tag list (thank you!)

@littlemiss-fanficlover , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence , @riverina69 , @itsrheasgirl , @1-800-sinister

#wwe fanfiction #rhea ripley #the judgment day #rhea ripley x reader #rhea ripley x dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #finn balor #damian priest #finn balor x damian priest #the judgement day #jd mcdonagh #jacy jayne #thea hail #chase u #nxt #lady!reader #specialinterestshows presents #absolute smokeshow

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coolbanana44 · 2 years ago

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Unexpected

AN: This is my first time writing so please don't judge! If you like it let me know and if you want to give me requests on more stuff I should write I will gladly take them! Please enjoy

Summary: you are nervous to share some news to Charles.

When I was little I used to go to my grandparents house and play with baby dolls my grandma would set up for me. My grandparents would coo and awe at me when I used to pretend to feed the babies and put them in their cribs. I remember that I would carry this one doll, which I named Julia, around their house and pretend to show her things as if she was real. I even used to bring her to the dinner table and make her sit on my lap while I ate dinner. It’s funny how we have motherly instincts at such a young age, ready to protect and provide for something that is made out of plastic.

Now in my twenties I am peeing on a plastic stick, which could determine the rest of my life. My period was 3 weeks late, and I didn’t know whether I should be excited or anxious as I sat on the toilet waiting for the 5 minutes to go by as the pregnancy test lay on the edge of the porcelain sink. My mind was going back to those times at my grandparents thinking about how silly I was carrying around that doll pretending it was real. Now it could be very real, and that is what sends me over the edge. What my parents think, oh my god what will Charles think.

Charles and I have been dating for 3 years, and we only brought up the idea of having a baby when we are married once. He always loved children, playing with my baby cousins when we would go over for the holidays, but with his career in Ferrari on full throttle you don’t know if he will be happy with a little bean right now.

5 minutes are up as I look at my phone.

“This is it.” I whispered as I got up from the toilet. I slowly reached for the test and closed my eyes when I brought it up to my face. I suck in a breath as I open my eyes. Two lines.

“Oh my fucking god.” I break down. I slide against the wall, crying out in worry and frustration over not knowing what Charles would think.

As if my life Is some kind of sick sitcom, I hear our apartment door open and close with Charles' voice following right after.

“Y/N I’m home.” I hear him put his keys on the kitchen counter. I am silent, letting the tears fall down my face slowly.

“Mon amour are you here?” I’m scared, holding my breath.

This time I hear him closer.

“Mon ange I see the bathroom light on. Are you okay?” He finally knocks.

“I’m fine.”

“Mon amour it sounds like you are crying.” He says in his soothing voice. He opens the door to see me with red puffy eyes, curled up in a pathetic little ball on the ground. He bends down with his eyes locked on mine, not even seeing the test in my hands.

“What happened mon ange?” As he wiped he wiped his hand across my cheeks. I close my eyes and lean into his hands just to bask into his soft touch. Still with my eyes closed I lifted up the plastic to show him what has been causing my break down. I don’t hear anything for a minute, during that minute I get myself ready for the backlash and the anger of how this could put his career on hold.

“Mon ange are we really having a baby?” He whispers and I can hear the wavering in his voice. That's when I look up and see he has also gained silent tears on his cheeks. It's my time to speak.

“Are you mad?” He looks at me gently but confused.

“What? No. Oh my god no. This is the best news in my entire life. We are gonna be parents and have a little bean running around.” He starts to laugh softly.

“I’m gonna be a dad. This is what I have always dreamed of with you.”

“Really?”

“Really. I can’t wait.” He puts the test back on the counter and lifts me off the ground, walks us out of the bathroom and swirls me around in the air as we both laugh. He sets me down and takes my hands.

“This is one of the best days of my life, and I’ve wanted to do this at the right time, but now this just seems perfect.” He takes one hand out of my grip and reaches for his pocket. He bends down on one knee, taking out a black velvet box. That's when I lose it, my eyes immediately start to swell as I gasp.

“I know I told you I was out for a meeting, but I was actually meeting with the jeweler to pick this up.” That's when he opens the box and I see the most gorgeous ring in my entire life.

“Y/N when you walked into that small grocery store I knew you were the most beautiful woman in the world. When we went out on our first date, and we were laughing and talking about everything and nothing, I knew I had to marry you. You are my biggest supporter and biggest competitor in mini golf, and I couldn’t be happier than having you by my side for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Oh my god it's always gonna be yes!” I yell. I yank him up from the ground and tug him towards me so I can give him a kiss. As we disconnect from the passionate kiss we both look down and he slides the ring on my finger.

“I promise to always take care of you.” He bends down and caresses my tummy.

“And I promise to always take care of you.”

In that moment I know everything's gonna be alright. I start to laugh and cry while looking down at my amazing fiance as he kisses my stomach. I start to think of the future and realize I’m Not gonna be doing this alone like I used to do with my dolls, but that I am going to be doing it with the man that I love more than anything in the world.

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #pregnancy #formula one #f1 imagine

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aois-amaterasu-painting · 4 months ago

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Uruha blog - MASS era (2020.10 - 2024.01)

Uruha blog 2024.01.14 - "2024"

Seeing the various pieces of information about the earthquake that occurred on the Noto Peninsula on the 1st, and the situations of those affected and the disaster areas, I felt it was not the right time to be posting anything, and as a result, my first blog post of the new year has been delayed to this timing.

I believe that those affected by the disaster are still going through very difficult times, and I extend my heartfelt sympathies to them and pray for a swift recovery.

In 2024, I want to fulfill what I can and should do in order to continue creating music and delivering it to everyone, and to maintain a society that supports such activities.

Although my posts here have gradually decreased, I strongly feel that it is precisely because of these times that I must cherish blogging without forgetting my initial intentions. I will do my best to post a bit more this year, so please stay tuned!

Uruha blog 2023.07.26 - "After finishing the MASS tour"

Since it's been a while since the MASS tour final at Budokan ended, I’d like to take this opportunity to express my feelings.

I feel that sometimes it is important to write on the blog again after a long time, but after all, these are just my ramblings, no more significant than graffiti in a bathroom. So, I hope only those who notice will read it.

As I write this in 2023, we are gradually returning to a state close to our pre-COVID-19 daily life. Reflecting on the MASS tour, it strikes me that it was a project that began under the restrictions and limitations imposed by the pandemic, starting from the album's production period.

Despite all humanity facing equal hardships, I am amazed at how the entire MASS project, from its creation to the final show, seemed to be so dramatically in sync with the world’s transition from restrictions to relaxation. Witnessing the miracle of the crowd being allowed to cheer at Budokan was overwhelmingly moving.

We also suffered during this period, albeit perhaps to a lesser extent than some. We experienced unprecedented cracks in various places. I saw firsthand how quickly and easily what we had built could collapse.

There were moments when I, someone saved by music, doubted the power of my own music.

The sight at the final show shone all the more brightly to me precisely because it followed such a desperate beginning.

Thus, we have reached a turning point with the MASS tour, but each piece of work we’ve created so far is part of the larger framework of the GazettE, and has shaped who I am today—my very “life.” I am determined to connect the experiences we have cultivated up to now to our next work.

No matter how difficult the times, no matter how unreasonable the situations we face, I want to receive and respond to your words and emotions properly, and to continue to support and encourage you with the utmost respect and gratitude.

On the Budokan stage, I could only convey a simplified message, but writing this has made me realize once again that the words I spoke directly at that time are a hundred times more significant and important than any written words. (laugh)

Even so, I believe that this post serves its own purpose, so I wanted to write down my feelings of gratitude to everyone.

Let’s continue walking together toward the sights beyond MASS.

Uruha blog 2023.01.03 - "2023"

Happy New Year.

Looking back on last year, 2022 was a year that passed by in the blink of an eye as we overcame many challenges as a band.

I don't think this is limited to just us, but this past year made me realize how precious each and every live show is, and that we could not have achieved this without the cooperation of all our fans.

The fact that we were able to complete our tours and events last year is thanks to everyone who continued to support us, even under the new normal of wearing masks and being unable to cheer out loud.

I believe that the feeling of moving forward over the past year is shared by more than just me, and I trust that we can reclaim the intense atmosphere and wonderful sights of live shows. I look forward to running through this year with everyone as well!

I hope 2023 will be a wonderful year for all of you. Thank you for your continued support this year.

Uruha blog 2022.07.15 - "COUNT "DECEM" Nakano Sunplaza Hall"

Thank you for the final Nakano performance of the "MASS Tour 01".

I'm happy that we were able to inform everyone about various future activities, including the FC event and "02".

As we move forward into 2022, which is still our 20th anniversary, I hope everyone will witness how this year will unfold and be part of events and tours that everyone can truly enjoy.

This "MASS Tour 01 COUNT DECEM" tour, which concluded in Nakano, was a really good tour for me. I felt a sense of liberation and motivation, and I was able to approach each performance with a clear mind.

Starting with last year's DEMONSTRATION EXPERIMENT tour, I finally felt like we were able to literally embody the entirety of MASS. Each song's potential in live performances captivated me, and with every show on the tour, it became a source of enjoyment and excitement that built up within me.

That’s why today’s Nakano performance was particularly frustrating for me. I felt my own immaturity in not being able to adapt quickly to the unexpected developments, and I deeply regret it. I truly apologize to both my band members and all the fans.

Moreover, during "UGLY," I injured my back, and I apologize again for my awkward performance on stage afterwards.

Ending in such a clumsy and uncool manner at the very end might be typical of me, but I will continue to give my all without giving up, so please continue to support us!

Uruha blog 2022.03.26 - "New beginning…"

I've started Twitter and Instagram.

I hope to liven up our 20th anniversary year even just a little, so please support us!

Twitter▷https://twitter.com/uruha_gazette__

Instagram▷https://www.instagram.com/uruha_thegazette__/

Uruha blog 2022.03.14 - "NEW PICK!!"

We have decided to release the new picks that were specially made for the recent 20th anniversary performance for a limited time.

I wanted to throw them to everyone at the live show as usual, but given the current situation, that's not possible. So for those who usually use picks, please take this opportunity to get one.

These picks now come with a non-slip grip, so I recommend them for those who, like me, have trouble with hand sweat making them slippery!

Uruha blog 2022.03.12 - "Thank you for your hard work."

Thank you for your hard work on the 20th anniversary performance.

Although some time has passed, I still feel the lingering sensation of the live show.

The feeling I experienced at that live show was more pleasant than ever before.

Even without the special emotions tied to the 20th anniversary, the sound during the entire process, from instrument checks to sound checks and rehearsals, resonated comfortably in that space.

In trying to convey that feeling to everyone with all my might, I was able to reaffirm what live performances mean to me, and I also felt a forgotten sense come back to life.

Although it was a live show commemorating our 20th anniversary, it was a precious performance that provided undeniable opportunities for growth in various aspects.

And soon, 'LIVE TOUR 2022 -MASS- / PHASE 01-COUNT “DECEM”' will begin.

The 20th-anniversary live allowed me to refine the fundamental feeling that I want to carry into this tour as well. It was the best!

It’s been a while since our last tour, but let’s rush forward in pursuit of the best sights again!

Uruha blog 2022.01.31 - "Towards the 20th"

Greetings, everyone.

Before we know it, January has flown by. How have you been?

I’ve been steadily preparing for the Yoyogi performance. I believe we’ve put together something that everyone will enjoy. Personally, I’ve been reworking the sound overall, so I’m excited to approach some of our older songs in a slightly different way.

It might be a minor difference from the audience’s perspective, but I hope even those small details will come across.

I can hardly wait to see everyone on the Yoyogi stage in just a little while. Until then, please take care of yourselves.

Uruha blog 2022.01.02 - "2022"

Happy New Year, everyone.

Last year was an important year for the band, as if the hands of a stopped clock had started moving again.

This year, 2022, I hope the clock will not stop again. I want to unleash all the energy that has been building up through live performances with everyone, and I want to savor the milestone of 20 years with all of you. With these various feelings in mind, I plan to start the year running, so I look forward to your continued support throughout this year!

Uruha blog 2021.12.26 - "Tokyo Garden Theater"

As announced at the recent Garden Theater live, our 20th anniversary performance next year has been confirmed for Yoyogi National Gymnasium!

I wasn’t able to convey it very well during the closing moments due to being a bit scattered, but I intended to express how much we have been supported by our fans over the past 20 years.

In my case, I often refer to feedback from fans through emails and letters. By pointing out aspects that I might not notice myself—both the good and the bad—I believe we’ve grown significantly over these 20 years.

I think both I and the band have been shaped by what we’ve built together with our fans, so I want to express my gratitude once again.

I hope that we can continue to support each other and walk this path together without changing.

Wishing everyone a Happy New Year!

Uruha blog 2021.12.23 - "Today, the rescheduled Tokyo performance!"

Good morning.

Today is finally the rescheduled day—the last live show of the year.

Thank you for your support, everyone!

Uruha blog 2021.11.14 - "Rescheduled Performance Confirmed"

Recently, the rescheduled performance at Tokyo Garden Theater has been set for December 23.

We understand that this has caused concern for many, and we appreciate your understanding of the need to reschedule.

We sincerely apologize to those who cannot attend due to the change. We are grateful for the opportunity to perform on stage again before the end of the year and will do our utmost to ensure we are fully prepared. Thank you for your continued support!

Uruha blog 2021.11.01 - "To all our fans"

We regret to inform you of the cancellation of today's scheduled performance at Tokyo Garden Theater.

We deeply apologize for the inconvenience caused to all the fans who were looking forward to the event, those who had to adjust their plans suddenly, and those who had made special arrangements to come from afar.

We promise to do our utmost to return to you all in perfect condition as a band of five and to continue bringing smiles and dreams to everyone as the GazettE.

Once again, we apologize for the concern and inconvenience this may have caused.

Uruha blog 2021.10.19 - "Aichi Arts Center"

Thank you, Nagoya!

Following Osaka, we were able to hold this second performance in Nagoya thanks to everyone's thorough infection prevention measures and cooperation.

As Ruki mentioned multiple times during the MC, I felt a deep sense of gratitude, and standing on that stage didn't feel like an ordinary event; every moment felt like a miracle.

We and all of you are the only ones who can protect this place.

Because of the circumstances we have gone through, this feeling strikes even stronger and deeper in my heart. Even though this tour has fewer shows, each one leaves a profound impact.

There’s only Tokyo left, but feeling the passionate energy in Nagoya today, I want to bring everything we've gained from these two performances to the Tokyo show. So let's make it great together! Thank you!

Uruha blog 2021.09.27 - "Osaka Orix Theater"

The first live show in two years and the opening night at Osaka Orix Theater—great job, everyone!

As all the members mentioned, I was really nervous too. Even with the best preparations, you can't fully grasp the atmosphere and tension of a live show until you're actually there. But that very tension is the proof of our existence that we crave from live performances, which made me feel incredibly alive.

More than anything, I could feel the unspoken emotions, the feelings towards the band, and the overflowing sentiments pouring down on the stage. Even for those who couldn't make it, I'm sure they shared the same feelings without a doubt.

Every single live show from now on feels like a miracle, and today was a precious reminder of that. There's a bit of a break until the next show in Nagoya, so everyone, make sure to recharge. As for me, I'm feeling completely sore the day after the show. Haha.

Uruha blog 2021.09.25 - "To Osaka…"

Tomorrow is finally our first live show in two years.

There's no doubt that we've been eagerly waiting to break the long silence.

So many emotions have swirled within me leading up to this point, and it feels like this journey can't be summed up as just a two-year hiatus.

In times like these, it's essential to simply follow the emotion of "enjoyment," and ultimately, that's where we always end up. I've come to realize that standing on that stage to enjoy myself is a truth for me.

Tomorrow, I want to fully enjoy and cherish the important space we will share together.

Uruha blog 2021.07.26 - "BLINDING HOPE"

We finally announced our live shows.

I fully understand that this announcement is made amidst a whirlwind of overwhelming emotions. Personally, I have no hesitation and am completely focused on the live shows, but I can't ignore the reality that there are many uncertainties when it comes to the current global situation. This reality weighs heavily on me.

In such circumstances, rather than just "believing and moving forward," we've decided to start exploring a new way of conducting live shows with thorough infection prevention measures, guidelines, and self-protection strategies. This approach has led us to make this announcement as our way of "moving forward."

There are still many unclear aspects around the world, with various information causing confusion. Honestly, I can't deny the possibility that I've been swayed by online information, struggling to discern the truth amidst the chaos.

However, what we've truly understood over this approximately year and a half of the pandemic is that we are still supported by our fans and the people around us. This fundamental realization is something that Ruki has thoughtfully detailed on Instagram, so please check it out.

What we can and should do is convey our feelings to the fans. Even if, hypothetically speaking, our existence during this pandemic causes harm, I believe we can be a source of strength to overcome it.

We don't know how the concept of live shows will evolve or where it will head, but as long as our fans continue to support us, we won't stop. This is the only certain thing in this uncertain pandemic, and we want to keep this in mind as we embark on this tour.

Please don't overextend yourselves. Ensure you're in perfect health to fully enjoy the shows.

Hoping that this marks a new beginning...!

Uruha blog 2021.07.25 - "“MASS” Online Event"

Today, we had our first online event in about a month. I was so happy to reconnect with everyone overseas! Did you all enjoy the event?

Thank you for participating in today’s online event. I was worried that I would have the opportunity to interact with everyone overseas after the pandemic, but it was a precious day that I was able to achieve it today. See you next time in live concert, thank you.

Uruha blog 2021.06.21 - "Day 2"

Thank you to everyone who participated in the second day of our online event!

Even though it was the second time, there were still moments where it might have been difficult to grasp the atmosphere. If you were able to enjoy the space even a little, I’m happy about that.

I believe there are still aspects that are developing, but I’m confident that as these types of events become more refined, they will provide even better opportunities to deepen our connection with fans.

Overall, over these two days, what made me happiest was being able to confirm each other's presence through the thoughts and feelings everyone shared with us. I think that’s something we’ve all been looking forward to.

So, to those who participated and to those who couldn't make it this time, your feelings were definitely received!

Thank you very much!!

Uruha blog 2021.06.20 - "First Day"

To everyone who participated in the online autograph session and talk event, thank you for your efforts!

Although it was indirect, I think it was a valuable event where we could communicate with everyone after a long time.

Given the nature of the event, I understand that some of you had to wait a considerable amount of time for your turn to get a signature, and I really appreciate your patience!

Although it was a bit different from our usual events, I hope it became an enjoyable and memorable experience for you. I also know that many of you couldn't participate, but I hope our gratitude reaches all of our supporters. Let's do our best again tomorrow!

Uruha blog 2021.06.10 - "Thank you!"

Thank you all for the messages!

Looking back, it’s hard to believe a whole year has passed since my last birthday.

This past year with COVID-19 felt incredibly long, yet looking back, it also feels short. Maybe it’s because the uncertainty of the future made time feel longer, while the lack of activity made it feel shorter.

However, with the recent release of "MASS," I believe it marks the first step towards escaping this dark era. I truly hope this will be a year where we can move forward and look ahead.

Next year, I hope to be able to deliver an even more positive message than now! I'll do my best.

Thank you!

Uruha blog 2021.05.26 - "DAY-3"

Thank you all for the past three days!

It was great to watch "Dai-Kyu" again after a long time. The last song "UNFINISHED" was pretty intense.

Watching the live footage while reading everyone's comments was so much fun! Haha

During the "MASS" tour, I want to create an even better live experience with everyone!

Today was packed with events: the release day of "MASS," the last day of "YouTube Live," and soon it will be Reita's birthday, making it a very memorable album release day.

I hope we can share this space with everyone again soon. Thank you for the past three days!

Uruha blog 2021.05.25 - "DAY-2"

"Gudon" felt a bit embarrassing. Haha.

Great job, everyone! Tomorrow is finally the release day of "MASS," but don't miss out on "Dai-Kyu" either!!

Uruha blog 2021.05.24 - "YouTube LIVE DAY-1"

"Shikkoku" brought back memories. Great job! See you again tomorrow!

Uruha blog 2021.05.22 - "Today"

Today was the recording day for RADIO JACK, and this time I recorded with Ruki.

And, this year too...

I was celebrated on my birthday!!!!

Wow, I'm so grateful! I also received many birthday messages from everyone.

Even in these times, I am truly grateful to the fans who haven’t forgotten about me.

There is no doubt that your presence is what sustains me in living now.

I really hope the day comes soon when we can hold a live performance.

And, finally, the new album "MASS" is about to be released in just a few days.

I personally believe that music exists to be enjoyed, and I think "MASS" is a work packed with information that stems from the feeling of enjoyment.

However, much of it cannot be explained, and explaining it seems almost meaningless; it provides an impact that both the creators and the listeners feel equally.

What I want to say is that, even we, the creators, are delighted that it turned out to be such an enjoyable work. This might be an arrogant thing to say, but it’s the broad-mindedness of the fans who share this sentiment that saves us, allowing us to celebrate the release of the album "MASS"... In other words, it all comes down to a simple "thank you!"

We are waiting for the day when we can deliver our heartfelt "thank you" to everyone to the fullest. For now, we are just patiently waiting for that moment.

So, please look forward to the new album "MASS."

Uruha blog 2021.01.29

Finally, the time has come...! Let's hope that everything starts moving from here!

Please look forward to it.

Uruha blog 2021.01.02 - "2021"

Happy New Year, everyone.

Last year, we couldn’t say that we were able to see each other enough to say we were in your care in 2020.

I can’t help but hope that this situation will improve, even just a little, this year.

Until the time comes when we can meet at live shows, please take good care of your health, strictly follow infection prevention measures, and let’s all work together to make this a year that won't be defeated by COVID-19.

Thank you for your continued support this year.

Uruha blog 2020.10.28 - "Happy Birthday, Kai!"

I realized that I have stopped updating for over three months.

I apologize... I’ve been focusing a bit on production, but I hope to update with my recent activities as timing permits.

And today is our leader’s birthday, so I decided to make an update.

Once again, happy birthday, Kai.

His leadership and passion for the band have been a great force in overcoming various difficulties the band has faced and he has played a crucial role in supporting and uniting the members.

Without him, the GazettE wouldn’t exist as it does today. With respect to such a wonderful leader.

#uruha blog #mass #the gazette

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caker-baker · 2 years ago

Text

Sign

They didn’t actually need to look to see who it was, nor did they need to move from their leaned position against the railing. “Do me a favor and fuck off for a minute.”

“Now, now, Hero. That’s no way to treat an honored guest.”

“Fuck you. We both know that identity isn’t yours.” The hero ran a hand over their tired face. “I don’t care, whatever angle you have tonight, but if you kill someone–”

“That would be a spectacle. You should have already guessed that tonight is about espionage, considering the stolen identity and all.” The villain rested their hands on the railing next to the hero, but did not fully relax.

“Fantastic.” The hero’s voice fell flat. “Go back inside, then.”

Despite themself, the villain’s eyes wandered over the hero’s slouched form.

Even in their current crumpled and defeated mannerism, the hero was a sight to behold.

Nothing but the finest of clothes these days, a hair and makeup team had undoubtedly fussed over the hero for hours to get the current superstar affect, and of course, those fine clothes highlighted those hard earned muscles, but funnily enough, the scars seemed to have been hidden.

“You look miserable.”

The hero took a sharp breath in. “You don’t get to say that.”

“I told you what it would be if you signed, if you gave yourself to the government, say the word and I’ll fix it.”

The villain nearly jumped when the hero’s head swiveled towards them, expression close to feral.

“Fix what?” They spat. “I never have to worry about another bill in my life, medicine, housing, food, they do it all, Villain.” The hero turned away. “And all I have to do is dress up sometimes? Pose for a picture so they can put my face on a lunchbox?”

“You’re a product, Hero. They wave you around to show off their new attack dog.”

“I am not–!” They slammed their fist on the railing. It cracked, startling the hero, who stumbled back a few steps.

The villain reached out a hand, only to retract it when the hero pulled away.

“Whatever. It’s an equal exchange.”

The villain’s typically wide and watchful eyes softened. “Why didn’t you take my offer?”

Huffing, the hero turned, straightening out their form as they prepared to go back inside. “Go to hell.”

The villain reached out, gripping the hero’s arm, determined not to let them pull away this time.

“You used to be happy! You used to take pride in doing good!”

“I also used to be hungry and on the verge of homelessness. Let go.”

“I would have helped you. Why didn’t you let me help you?”

The hero ripped away their arm, turning and coming face to face with the villain, a mere inch apart.

“You don’t know what it’s like to owe someone.” The hero stepped forward, the villain stepped back. “All of you rich assholes are the same. If you had helped me, me, your enemy, it would have meant something else entirely. I can’t do that.”

Another step, another, and another.

“I never would have held it above you, Hero.” The villain had to keep walking backwards until they bumped into the railing. “I’m not like that–”

“You are! You’re an awful person. Do you think that I believe you’d make an exception for me? And why? Just because you enjoy villainy? Because you find all this entertaining?��

The hero’s eyes watered. “For them, I take pictures, I sign autographs, I wear the brand sponsored clothes and go to stupid galas, and yeah, sometimes I’m just there to look scary, but you know what I’m not doing? Giving myself away in a sense that I could never regain. What would it be for you?”

The villain opened their mouth, and closed it again.

What would it be for them? They didn’t like to stop and think about these unspoken feelings, the feelings that drove them in an unfamiliar and warm way, feelings that made them go on espionage missions that weren’t actually important.

What were they hoping to gain by helping the hero? Praise? Gratitude? Admiration?

Love?

As if reading the villain’s mind, the hero spoke.

“What would it be for you? Because for all the money in the world, you can’t buy that.” The hero scoffed, backing away. “You know, they really try to play up the strong but dumb image, makes it easier for sponsors to buy into, but I’m not an idiot.”

“Of course you’re not.”

Suddenly, the hero’s eyes turned upwards, looking, looking, looking.

“Doesn’t look like there’s any cameras up here.” The hero’s shoulders dropped a little. “If someone found out I damaged the railing, they’d probably…”

The villain raised an eyebrow. “They’d probably…?”

“It doesn’t matter.” They held their chin high. “I’m going inside. Have your fun tonight, but any deaths and I will fly your sorry ass straight into the sun.”

“Naturally.” The villain smiled gently, although they were positive that if the hero could somehow survive in space, they would, in fact, fly the villain’s sorry ass into the sun.

But the hero didn’t respond, didn’t give any notice to the villain’s existence as they slipped through the door, a full photo-op ready picture of grace.

The villain let out a shuttering breath once the door closed again, heart hammering in their chest.

No, no, no time for that. The villain couldn’t let this new feeling distract them, there were things to be done, olive branches to be offered, and signatures to be burned.

#villain #hero x villain #hero #heroine #snippet #villain x hero #heroes and villains #villainess #writing #heroes #here’s my impression of the mosquito that kept me awake because it wouldn’t leave me alone but consequently I wrote this #ok here’s what it sounded like #eeeeeeEEEEEEEEeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee #now imagine that really high pitched but smaller #anyways #there’s an aching there’s an aching some ancient #I do not feel female rage in the way that should be there #because it’s over now get over it move on move on move on #and I have like they advised #but I wish the women of my family could pass down more than quiet survival because I want to be angry #I want to burn and rage and revenge and avenge everything and everyone #generationally it is not my time #I will leave it to my daughters daughter #and maybe that is what my mother and grandmothers hope for

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galacticwildfire · 2 years ago

Text

Sad, Beautiful, Tragic | Alicent Hightower

Four

Alicent Hightower x Targaryen!oc

64.media.tumblr.com

Their fathers sworn enemies, Viserra and Alicent should never have been as close as they were, yet it was a connection neither could fight. What began as an innocent girlhood companionship becomes something scandalous, with the bastard daughter of Daemon Targaryen showing her true colours. As the dance begins she finds herself torn between her loyalty to her house and her love for her father. Yet neither hold a candle to her forbidden love for the new queen, a love which threatens to destroy them both.

Word count : 4.9k

A/N: so sorry it's been so long, life has been miserable with uni, also comment on taglist if you want to be added or removed

Father and I stand atop the walls of Hightide, watching the Velaryon fleet prepare to set sail.

"Why are we fighting this war father?" I ask him out of genuine confusion. "What threat can this crabfeeder truly pose to us?"

"It's not about the threat to us, it's the principle of it," he explains. "For the crab feeder to gain power and holdings so close to our shores reflects badly on our power as Targaryens. We have dragons yet we let pirates like the crab feeder and his men creep upon us. Like with rebellions, they must be put down brutally." He looks at me, almost as if he's studying me. "Did you do as I asked and see the blacksmith to have armour made and fitted."

"Yes," I answer, even if my heart pounded the entire time, it wasn't until the moment I secured the steel onto me that it became real. "Our dragons will be the first in generations to see true battle."

He has had me training with the master at arms morning, noon and night, and then with himself. Determined to give me the training I would have received if I was a son.

"They will be," he tells me. "My brother does not want to see it but by me being out here instead of sitting on my ass in Kings Landing my claim only grows stronger."

He wants it, more than almost anything he wants to be his brothers heir, except there is one problem. "The council would see it as this, if anything were to happen to you the crown would then be fought over by two girls, one a trueborn princess and the other a bastard. While I'm your heir your claim is forfeit." He's quiet as he knows it's true, even if he will not admit it. "I know Mysaria's pregnancy was a farce, but if you were to have a son I would be happy." He stills and looks at me in contemplation. "I have no desire for the throne as you do, and despite my love and loyalty towards Rhaenyra I know I cannot stop you if you decide to press your claim, but as your daughter I can only tell you the truth which is you will need a son to have any chance. I know you have always seen me as your heir but if you were to have a boy to inherit whatever you take I would be happy with that."

He knows what it is I'd be giving up if he had a son, what I would lose. He's lived his life in fear of Viserys fathering a son enough to know it. Yet he asks "You've truly never desired power for yourself?"

"I have power," I tell him. "Being a bastard with no obligations to marry or rule is more than power, it is freedom. A freedom I do not wish to give up."

He smiles. "Then you're wiser than I am."

It's then we're interrupted by Rhaenys who comes to join us. "I assume you will not be attending your brothers wedding."

"Considering I'm still in exile, no," Father answers plainly. "And I'd rather not see the look of pride on Otto Hightowers face."

I can't help myself as I ask "The wedding, when is it?"

I've been here on Hightide for the last month, acting as my fathers understudy as he and Lord Corlys have been planning their war. Deliberately away from the matters of Kings Landing.

"Tomorrow," she tells me, and her voice is curious. "I understand you and Rhaenyra both were very close with Alicent Hightower."

Father can't help the laugh he tries to supress, getting a strange look from Rhaenys. "Yes, very close indeed."

"If Alicent had it her way it would be Laena marrying the king," I try to tell Rhaenys. "She did not want this."

"And yet tomorrow she shall be queen," she says, not caring for what she wanted. "Something that should have been Laena's if Viserys didn't let his heart rule him."

I look to my father whose protective over anyone who dares attack his brother, but it's an assessment he can't help but agree with. "It has always been his weakness."

"Perhaps it has not been in vain," I tell Rhaenys, always careful with my words when it comes to her. "Laena does not yet have a dragon but all she talks of is Vhagar." She tilts her head at me. "What is a king compared to a conqueror's dragon."

"An interesting thought indeed," she says with a small smile. She had never taken interest in me until I'd arrived here at Hightide, no doubt due to my birth, but if I am being cautious I could say she's started to take a liking to me. And maybe she's the mother I wish I might have had.

She leaves us and my father looks at me, knowing my urge to set flight. "Go. You aren't the one in exile."

"And what, try to steal her away again?" I scoff. "If it didn't work the first time-"

"You love her, you'll regret it if you don't try," he tells me and gestures to the army below. "We're going to war, you might not get another chance."

I wear my armour as I fly to Kings Landing, armour designed to compliment my riding clothes. Red and black with steel forged in the Targaryen design like my fathers.

It would gather more stares than I would care for if I entered through the front gates of the keep in daylight, but I enter through the secret passageways in the dead of night.

Her chambers are empty when I reach them, and I begin to wonder if I should have changed into one of my gowns, perhaps the red one she loves so much, suddenly aware I reek of dragon, but when don't I? My dragon is as much a part of me as she is.

When the door opens and she enters I'm sitting on the edge of her bed, she stops at the sight of me, remaining in the doorway eyeing me with the same caution as she does my dragon.

Her voice wavers. "Are you here to convince me to run away again?"

I shake my head. "As much as I want to I've made my peace."

A lie, I've simply accepted my defeat.

"I haven't," she replies, closing the door behind her but remaining there, keeping distance between us. But I can't stop my heart nor my legs as I stand and march towards her.

"Good," I say as I reach for her. "Because neither have I."

I take her face between my hands and kiss her. She pulls away, looking at me with those big brown eyes before kissing me back. She doesn't question the armour I wear as she reaches for me, no longer timid as she pushes me against the door and breathes "I don't want to be his, I don't want him to take something I don't want to give."

There's a question in her eyes, one I'm hesitant to answer. "Alicent-"

"Please," she whispers, and I see a side of her I've never truly seen until now. "I don't want the first person to ever touch me to be him."

This isn't what I wanted. I never came to conquer her as if I'm no better than a man. I just wanted to hold her one last time.

"Do you love me?" I ask her and the question almost seems to confuse her.

"Of course I love you."

I shake my head and remove her hands from my waist to hold them. "I'm asking if you love me the way I love you." Something changes in her dark eyes at those words and my voice breaks "Please tell me you love me too."

She reaches for my face and answers me with a kiss, something so gentle it's heartbreaking, and she breathes "You know I do."

It's then I bring her hand to my armour. "Alicent, I'm not wearing this for nothing."

Her first thought is that I've come for a fight. "If you plan to spill blood-"

I just shake my head. "No. I'm not coming to start a war, I came to see you one last time before I leave for one."

She blinks at me with tears in her eyes, utterly blindsided. "No, you can't-"

"I am," I tell her and struggle to look her in the eye. "After the wedding I leave for the Stepstones."

"Why?" she asks me, her voice growing desperate as she pulls me in. "Why would you even think of going there?"

I look back up at her, knowing in my heart it's where I belong. "My fate isn't like yours, I'm not destined to marry a king or even a lord. I was born to fly on dragonback to bring fire and blood and that is what I intend to do."

"No," she demands. "I may not be queen now but tomorrow I can order you to stay here by my side-"

"I'll already be gone," I tell her, not knowing if I'll be able to bring myself to even attend the wedding. "I didn't come to fight, I came to see you one last time before everything changes."

She opens her mouth to protest before quickly shutting it, knowing there is no winning a fight with me once my mind has been made up. But something in her has changed.

"No," she insists, grabbing my face and her eyes are filled with fear. "I'm not losing you. I can't."

And that's when I kiss her, wanting to taste the fire I know we share, despite how deeply buried it may be. A fire I bring to the surface with every step I take towards her bed until her legs hit the back of it and my hands come to the laces at the back of her dress, tugging at them enough the neckline of her blue dress slips down so I can drag my lips down her neck, kissing the soft skin below her jaw all the way down to her collarbone until she's gasping out my name.

"Viserra-"

"Sit down," I breathe and she obeys, the shoulders of her dress slipping down her arms and her hair free. A beautiful mess. I bring my hand to her face as I come to stand between her legs, her dress sliding up past her knees as I run my thumb over her lips. Eyes asking me to take whatever she's willing to give, as if I was just a man.

Perhaps I'm no better than one as I kiss her and my hands tug her dress from her shoulders but it's not until I have her in my arms I'm fulfilled, not by flesh but by her.

We lay beside one another in the darkness, bodies bare and hearts fast. I should feel content, I should feel like a man would, but I don't. And it's a very dangerous thing as I look at her and realise I will never be content until she is mine and nobody else's. I am my fathers daughter, a jealous woman and a reckless one.

But I'll never know where I inherited my tender heart from.

"Alicent." She looks at me as I reach my hand out to her face, she's trembling now the pleasure has worn away, terrified of what awaits her tomorrow. "It's not too late."

"Please, don't," she whispers, voice pained. "Don't try to convince me to run away."

Little does she know running away with her is one of the least bloody things I would do to make her mine. "I don't want you to marry him."

She sits up, pulling the sheets up around herself and faces away from me, being utterly difficult when I could end this here and now. "It would be treason, no matter how much Viserys loves you, if you were to do this, if he were to know..."

"Do you think me afraid?" I ask her, sitting up and tucking my chin into the crook of her neck, kissing her shoulder as my hand slips around her waist to hold her to me. "I'm not. I've spent the last weeks since I left preparing for war, yet the only prospect that frightens me is the thought of losing you."

She looks back at me, confused. "Losing me? You're the one leaving court to fight a pointless war." It's then she turns everything I've said back on me as she grabs my face and pleads "Stay. Stay here with me."

"And be the queens mistress?" I ask her, hating myself, because I know I could never be content having only part of her. "Do you think it wouldn't kill me to know you'll be his? Do you think it isn't already?"

"I don't know," she confesses to me. "It's impossible to know what you feel Viserra when you come in and out of my life so erratically. One moment chasing me and the next fleeing-"

"Would you believe me if I told you love has made me mad?" I ask her, looking into her wide eyes, shining with tears. "Alicent. Ever since the moment I returned to court and set eyes on you I've been driven mad by you. Every moment I am not with you I'm aching, and the thought of you being with a man makes me blind with rage. You make me utterly senseless, can't you see that?" She's speechless as I take her face between my hands. "I don't want to have you like a man, I don't want to be a mistress, I just want to be loved by you. Can't you see that is all I want?"

"Viserra," she breathes as I kiss her and there's no more words left I can say to make her feel my love as we fall back down between the sheets, and all I know is this last night together, if I can't feel her heart I'll feel what little she can give. Anything to keep her from letting go of us.

She's already awake by the time my eyes open, reaching her hand out to move the hair out of my face. Neither of us say anything, we don't need to, and there's no words that could do what we feel right now justice. I lean over to kiss her, as if I could pretend for just a moment everything was fine, but just as my lips touch hers the door opens.

I jump up, sheets around me expecting a servant, expecting anyone but Rhaenyra.

She stands there mouth open at the sight of us, before leaving just as quickly as she came, slamming the door shut behind her as Alicent clamps a trembling hand over her mouth.

"It's alright," I immediately tell her. "Stay here."

She's too terrified to speak as I reach for my clothes, not bothering with the armour as I run out the door still lacing my blouse and running through the halls. I catch the attention of those walking past, not caring for anyone's theories but Rhaenyra's.

I expect to find her telling her father, but instead she stands by the weirwood tree, waiting for me.

"Rhaenyra," I breathe. "It-"

"Wasn't what it looks like?" she finishes and turns back to look at me. "I should have known. It was right there in front of me this entire time-"

"No, not until tonight," I tell her, but she doesn't believe it. "The reason I fled to dragonstone that night was because Otto accused me of seducing Alicent, a crime I was innocent of, at least until then." Whilst she is betrayed, she believes that. "And so I stole her away on dragonback so she wouldn't have to marry your father but she begged me to bring her back and so I did." She hates this as much as we do, but still, the anger in her eyes is all for me. "I just wanted to see her one last time."

"Well you did a lot more than see," she says stiffly and shakes her head at me. "The night before she's meant to marry my father-"

"And she will," I tell her, biting back the venom in those words. "As much as we both hate it, as much as she hates it, if anyone were to know the truth it would ruin her." Even she would not stoop that low. "Blame me, hate me for keeping her secret, for seducing her. I may be no better than my father but the only crime she is guilty of is falling in love with someone she shouldn't have."

She almost laughs at those words. "You know, my father would believe that. Anyone at court would. But not me." My face falls. "She is far from innocent and we both know it."

My voice is stiff. "Are you going to tell your father?"

"I should," she says, the power in her hands. "But you're right. It would ruin her. I don't know what you think of me anymore. One day we were sisters and the next you were gone without an explanation, not even a word."

"We are still sisters," I tell her, but as much as we both want to believe those words, we can't. "I still love you as my sister. That much is true."

It's then I see tears in her eyes. "How can I know that after all the lies? I needed you, but you chose to betray me and leave me standing there at the small council like a fucking idiot when they said it would be her, and when I went looking for you you weren't there."

"I'm sorry," I tell her, reaching for her but she steps away. "I just wanted to help her, I never wanted to hurt you!"

"Well you did!" she snaps at me and looks past me to where Alicent by now no doubt stands. "You both did."

I look between them, and it's then in Rhaenyra's eyes I see what Alicent thought she saw in mine. Jealousy. And I realise my father isn't the only one Rhaenyra's had eyes for. Rhaenyra's in love with Alicent.

It's then I break down laughing and both look at me as if I'm mad, and perhaps I am.

"Viserra?" Alicent says and I look around at the place the three of us spent our youth. A youth that has now ended.

"Look at us," I say, looking up at the sun. "Alicent is about to become queen, her children to usurp you as heir Rhaenyra, and me, about to go die in some pointless fucking war in the Stepstones." I smile, revelling in the pain it brings me. "That thought suddenly feels far more appealing than it did a day ago."

This is news to Rhaenyra, but Alicent's face is set in stone, and as I look her in the eye I see a glimpse of what Rhaenyra does. And for her sake I hope it's there, a conniving backbone to help her survive what's to come. A life not as a queen, but as a pawn for her fathers ambition.

I look back to Rhaenyra, not caring anymore how I leave things. Just wanting this to be over. "We're all fucked so how about we go put on our pretty fucking dresses and smile for the wedding." Both share the same look of disgust as they listen to me. "And let's drink to our ends."

"You-" Rhaenyra begins, not even having the words to do justice for her disgust and turns her back on me to leave, marching past Alicent without even looking at her, and suddenly I wish I'd done the sameas I see the utter rage seeping through her usually composed face.

"You truly are your fathers daughter."

"I am," I say shamelessly. "And you'll soon be one of us Targaryens, so welcome to the family."

I go to leave and she calls out "I forbid you to leave until after the wedding."

She may not be queen yet, and she knows it, but she is desperate. Desperate to keep me here.

"We'll see," I say and leave her there.

I sit in my chambers, my dragon riding gear discarded on the floor, too many wines deep to count as I watch from my window the court entering the throne room for the wedding. No Sept of Baelor it seems, nor a wedding in the Valyrian customs, but Otto seems to have spared no expense with a fortnight of celebrations planned. Usually the wedding comes in the midst of it but Otto must be desperate to get her married and bound by law before she can run away with me again.

I don't blame him, it's a valid concern.

Within the hour she will be queen, a perfect pawn in Otto's scheming. Within the hour Rhaenyra's position as heir will be threatened as it's never been before and Viserys is too blind to see it. I could so easily tell the king just what I did with Alicent last night, but she would be ruined.

And I love her more than my own desire to end this. I love her too much to betray her, even if it would mean saving her.

She will be looking for me now, waiting for me to enter the throne room, waiting for me to be there for this day she has dreaded for so long now.

And I can't deny her.

Which is why, a little less than an hour later I enter the wedding late and a little drunk, wearing the gown of crimson red she loves so much just as the ceremony has begun.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness-" the high Septon trails off as the entire room looks back at me standing there, a scarlet letter.

I look to Ser Criston Cole whose duty it is to announce me "The Lady Viserra of House Targaryen."

There's horrified looks from everyone in the room, no doubt believing I'm here to cause chaos on my fathers behalf, but I'm only looking at her as I walk down the aisle towards her and bow my head as I reach the end. It's then I finally see the look in Viserys's eyes, the simple understanding I am not his sweet niece, but my fathers daughter.

I don't say a word as I meet her mortified eyes and come to stand beside Rhaenyra who whispers "What are you doing?"

"Attending the wedding of our new queen," I answer as the High Septon clears his throat.

"We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife: one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.” She is beautiful standing there in white and red, but I know I cannot help but be the only one in the room looking upon this young girl, being worn by the Targaryen jewels and crown, believing she is too young for this. “Let it be known that Lady Alicent of House Hightower and King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of his Name, are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

It's then I feel Otto's gaze on me and meet his eye. He should be feeling victorious in this moment but I see it in his eyes, the fear. His daughter may be queen, but whilst I live he will always have an enemy who holds her heart.

“In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words.”

I can see her trembling as the High Septon binds their hands, her nails bloodied. “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…”

Her voice is barely audible over his, she's terrified.

“I am hers and she is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,”

“I am his and he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days.”

Rhaenyra and I both look to the ground as Viserys says “With this kiss, I pledge my love."

He kisses her as I did just hours ago and the room fills with celebration. Yet Rhaenyra and I are the only two who do not rejoice.

We look at one another, despite our anger, despite it all, in mutual understanding at being both devastated by this day.

Alicent is lead through the room, her eyes meeting mine briefly as she passes by us and the room follows to where the first feast is to be held outside.

"Long live the queen," I say under my breath. "It seems this day is a beginning for her, but an ending for us."

Tonight she will lay with Viserys, and may well become with child. Today her girlhood ends, being so abruptly torn away from her. As is ours.

"If you love her you won't do anything stupid," Rhaenyra says. "Not today."

"I already did, and she begged me not to again," I reply numbly. "After today I'll be gone, and I don't know when I'll return."

She knows where I'm going and her voice is quiet "As long as you come back."

She reaches for my hand and squeezes it before letting go and leaving with the rest of the crowd. I turn my head towards the throne my father desires with a pit in my stomach at what's to come.

I stand at the edge of the crowd, but far from hidden with eyes drawn to me with every step towards the king and his new queen. I do not miss Otto whispering to the Kingsguard as I approach.

Alicent looks up at me from where's she's seated beside Viserys, a silent plea in her eyes.

"Apologies for being late," I say and pull out a small box. "A gift for her grace the queen."

Hesitantly she takes it and opens it to find a ruby ring set in Valyrian steel, something my father acquired across the narrow sea. "Viserra-" she breathes, immediately knowing its value. "It's beautiful."

"A ring only befitting for a Targaryen queen," I state, Viserys on edge beside her. Not knowing what my motives are, but treating me with the same caution he would my father. I know damn well the assumption will be I'm here on my fathers behalf in vengeance for him being banished, no one would dare guess the truth of it.

"Thank you," she says and dares to take my hand. "Thank you for being here." Her brown eyes are desperate as she asks "Please, stay at court."

My smile is sad as I lie "Of course my queen." I run my thumb over the back of her hand before letting it go. "Enjoy the feast your grace."

As I go to leave the courtyard I take one last look back at her, the most beautiful I've ever seen her but also the most sad, before I leave to strip myself of this dress and dress myself in my dragon riding armour.

Yet as I make my way out of the Red Keep to return to the dragonpit I'm stopped by a member of the kingsguard.

"Did the queen order you to find me?" I ask Ser Criston.

"She did," he answers. "She asked me to prevent you from leaving."

"I am leaving to fight a war," I inform him. "I assure you the queen will not have you punished for letting me through."

"No, but she will be upset," he tells me, desperate to please in his new position. "There are many here who would rather you stay at court, myself included."

I tilt my head towards him, intruiged. "Is that so Ser Criston?"

"Yes my lady," he answers and I can't help how my lips turn upwards. "Is this amusing to you?"

"Not at all, I'm merely curious," I answer truthfully and tell him "Allow me to go to Darkfyre and tell the Dragonkeepers they need not prepare her for flight and I will return."

He's foolish enough to believe it and steps aside. "As you will my lady."

Now I am amused as I walk past him straight out the front gates of the keep and make my way to the dragon pit to find her prepared as I'd instructed them upon landing.

"Come on sweetheart," I say, running my hand over her black and red scales. "It's time you got out of this pit for good."

And so I mount her and take my leave from this city to meet my father at Hightide before we make our journey to the stepstones.

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drewsblog4 · 7 months ago

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“Each day is a new opportunity”

We have done many different blogs throughout this semester that all have their own purpose to them. However, when I looked over my blogs, several of them talked about how special this world is and can be, and how we as people can take things for granted. Even though my blogs don’t necessarily say that exact phrase in them, the context shows it. My blogs also reference things that can hurt people in our generation today, such as anger. There has been so much going on in our world today and we let anger determine how we treat each other. As you go through my blogs you notice I mention a lot of things about positivity and family. These two things are what I try to live my life by. For example, my very first blog called, “My favorite work,” talks about spending as much time with your family as possible because you don’t know when it's the last time you see them. I personally notice times when I felt like I should have spent more time talking to my grandparents or hanging out with my cousins because it’s not everyday I get to see them. And everytime I do get the chance to spend time with them, I feel relaxed and happy. Family is such a powerful thing in our world, it's important we notice the things that our parents and everyone has done for us to get to the point that we are at now. Another blog I posted called “Ever is Over all,” talks about turning anger into something positive. Although, this blog had a little bit different feel than “My favorite work” blog, it still had the same ideas. For example, in this blog I talked about not letting our anger change the way we act. Although that's much easier said than done, we should react to bad situations in a positive manner. When we look at our world today we see so much division and anger at different people, when we should be supporting one another's ideas and finding a happy median. Like I mentioned earlier we take things for granted, we as people don’t have much time to sit and dwell on the past because we are only on this earth for so long. We should take every moment we have and cherish it rather than taking everything for granted. So many times I find myself arguing for the silliest reasons and wake up the next day wondering why I let my anger get the best of me. THis happens to everyone, sometimes in the moment it's hard to understand the bigger picture. However, the moment people notice that anger and negativity doesn’t bring any good is the moment that their relationships get stronger. Another blog that correlates with my theme is my “Pictures” blog. In this blog I took five different photos of different sunsets. For me personally, sunsets bring happiness to people. Every time I look out and see the sun setting it brings peace and happiness. I think most people would agree that looking out and seeing a sunset helps people recognize the uniqueness of our world. We live in such a pretty world that sometimes it doesn't seem as good because of the way humans act. I can remember the feeling I had when I took each of those photos. In every single one of those photos I was relaxed and wasn’t stressed about anything. This comes back to my theme because sometimes we let negativity and bad things affect how we live our days. However, when you realize how precious this life that we live is it can change your entire mindset. No matter how bad of a day you're going through, the sun is going to come up the next day and that's your opportunity to take advantage of it. Overall, I have learned a lot through my blogs this semester. Such as life lessons that I can take into the real world, to help build relationships and fix broken relationships that should have never been broken.

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nothingnessofthemind · 1 year ago

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Where do I go from here?

This post grew beyond my original intention. Once I started writing I felt the need to share more details. I have been isolating for quite some time and bottling everything inside for too long so this is the written form of oversharing. Basically the last paragraph is where I am in life and what questions I have. I don't expect anyone to read the entire post but if you do, thank you. If you are in a hurry feel free to skip to the last paragraph.

I've spent a lifetime trying to fix the things in me that I have been told needed fixing. As a young kid I was also taught that I should never cry especially if it's just my feelings that are hurt and I need to quit being sad all the time because I had a great life.

Somehow I managed to survive to adulthood. There were a few times in my teen years where I seriously considered ending my life. Why not? I never gets better. I never get better. By age 17 I was drinking as much as I could get ahold of and doing any drugs available. I made the mistake of confiding in my mother when I knew I needed help or I would be dead soon. She shamed me for being so selfish to even think like that. What would people think of her and dad if I did something like that?

At age 18 I moved into my own place and 2 months later married the mother of the child I had at age 17. It wasn't easy but I was determined to be better than my parents. I had responsibilities now so no time or money for drugs and only splurged on alcohol for special events. It didn't take long to find out that the love of my life was a pretty version of both my parents. She knew every flaw I had and made certain to point them out often.

Back then i didn't know what a narcissist was or codependence or trauma bonding or emotional abuse. I wanted death more than ever but by now I had two kids and I couldn't put them though that so I turned to god and prayed everyday to either fix me or let me die. My marriage lasted 18 years but was over by the second year. I couldn't change enough to make her happy. Her rules constantly changed making sure I knew I was never good enough. To survive I had to learn to stuff my feelings deep and never let them surface. I never let anyone get close enough to hurt me as I had 2 parents and a lovely wife taking care of that.

My ex has never been diagnosed with NPD but if I had to guess I'd say she should be. Her favorite thing to do was act like all is well until I'd go to bed and as soon as I would fall asleep wake me up and start a fight. This would go on most of the night and always on a work night making for a rough day at work. I soon learned that getting angry or emotional and arguing my point energized her. I knew I could never win the fight and the longer I tried the longer it lasted. An hour or two of sleep before work wasn't working for me so I needed to end these talks quicker. It wasn't easy but if I just sat there showing no emotion and not saying a single word she would give up in a few hours. 4 or 5 hours of sleep was better then 1. The outcome was exactly the same either way.

That must have been horrible for her. She needed her supply and I kept it locked up and refused to show any sign of emotion. No anger, now frustration. No defending myself in any way. Just letting her go on and on about whatever she thought would get to me.

Our marriage ended about 18 years ago. I was so broken and so tired and I just didn't feel like fighting for anything. She hired an expensive lawyer with a reputation for getting women everything their husbands had to give. I hired a lawyer that was wiling and able to do battle with her lawyer but I said all I want is every weekend and every other holiday with the kids and a week or two every summer to go camping. I said I'd also like my guns, tools, cloths and truck. I said she can have the house but also get's the mortgage. I said I would take all the bank loans, credit cards and medical bills. She could have hired a cheap lawyer and done just as well. I never brought the infidelity into the battle since I didn't fight for anything. I had a stack of letters and an STD that she picked up from one of the others that I didn't use against her in court. I didn't want the stuff. I can always by more stuff. What I can't replace is the life, the time, the hopes and dreams.

I didn't know it at the time but once the marriage ended I should have been in therapy. I was in the same place as I was as a kid. Broken and in need of fixing things but not the things I was told my problems were. I need to fix the damage that was done to me all along. There were some incredibly fun years after the divorce. My plan for moving on was to show the world that I am not what I was told I was my whole life. By world I mean my ex. Too bad the fun years were fueled by alcohol and a codependent need to for approval from everyone around me. Turns out I am a people pleaser as well and will go out of my way to help someone out if they need help. Most people appreciate it but some take advantage of the situation don't care that I will sacrifice my needs and continue giving.

So now I ask, where do I go from here? Who am I really? I've been told by others and know much of what I have done in life has been based off their expectations rather than my choice. I am struggling with finding a therapist and making an appointment. I know fear is holding me back. I know it is going to hurt. I know it's going to be a lot of work. I also know that drugs and alcohol can be very helpful in faking it. I know many people who use the addiction to feel and appear to be normal. I know that once I do start therapy I will lye to the therapist about some things at first. I fear if I am honest about the alcohol and drug use in the beginning, the addictions will become the focus and the cause of the addictions will not be resolved. My sister has gone to alcohol treatment many times and it has never stuck. She has not had many sober days since about age 14. I don't know to the extent other drugs were involved but alcohol is her go to crutch. She would rather believe the narrative we were fed as kids. Maybe that's were I would be too if I hadn't had such a horrible experience with my marriage. As bad as my marriage was I didn't use alcohol and drugs while the kids were involved. Even now, they don't know that I use anything other than weed. As for any other stuff, I use enough to function and maintain the appearance of normal. I an currently not drinking mainly because it wasn't helping me function. The way I see it, the addiction is a symptom of something that was done to me. Fix what was broken and the symptoms eventually go away. I could be wrong and am just a druggie trying to justify using. My goal is to stop using someday but today is not that day.

#narcissistic abuse #cptsd problems #emotional abuse #trauma #wtf #codependency

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biglisbonnews · 2 years ago

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Loosey LaDuca Wants To Build Bridges Construction may have given her “man hands,” but it also made Loosey LaDuca a queen known for her body shape and craftsmanship over the past 13 years. Building pools by day and performing the Connecticut bar circuit by night, it’s been a long and often sleepless journey to RuPaul’s Drag Race runway, where she’s become one of season 15’s most memorable contestants — and for good reason. A casual scroll through social media revealsl that LaDuca has been a divisive figure since the beginning, starting with the very memeable performance of her song “Let Loose.” Some have characterized her as “delusional” and lacking self-awareness, while others have argued she was an easy target for reality television’s infamous “villain edit.” As the season’s progressed, though, there’s been a lot more chatter about her willingness to lean “into the joke,” with many eventually declaring themselves diehard LaDuca stans, praising her determination and unwavering confidence.“That’s the most important thing,” she tells PAPER. “Getting a sense of who you really are as a person outside of the actual challenges.”“They get to see how we interact with each other and who we are as people,” LaDuca continues, appearing to hint at the on-screen drama that’s led some to accuse the other queens of “bullying” her. Except the interactions don’t really seem to bother her; it’s their potential misinterpretation that does.“Drag queens are horrible to each other in the best way, and if they’re reading each other that actually means they really like each other,” she replies when asked if she had any hesitations about appearing on Drag Race.“But I know a lot of people who watch the show [may not realize this], so I was worried,” LaDuca continues, pointing out that the show’s gradual move from Logo to a network like MTV means newer fans may be unfamiliar with some social nuances.“I was hoping that people wouldn’t see it as a sign that we're disrespecting each other because, in reality, it's actually how we show love for each other,” she says, adding that amidst a wave of anti-drag legislation, it’s important to know there’s no animosity or bad blood. Rather, the focus should be on supporting the entire community, whether it be by attending local shows or simply refraining from a mean-spirited tweet about one of the queens — especially since drama “isn’t even the actual point of the show.”Related | We Must ‘Show Up In Force’ Against Anti-Trans Legislation“You put any group of people in a room, and there will be some,” LaDuca explains with a hint of exasperation. “But the point of the show is to showcase our talent, so we don't have time for that. I'm trying to make an outfit and create a whole fantasy. I don't have time to go over to this person and say, ‘Hey, you said this about me.’”Even so, LaDuca also knows that as a very “emotionally open” person, her soundbites can easily be misconstrued as dramatic or a “weakness,” particularly under the unflinching glare of the camera. A prime example was the response to her breakdown at the beginning of the season, which elicited comments like, “‘Why is she crying? This isn’t that big of a deal. What’s going on?’” But LaDuca explains that it was a reaction to “looking at this huge opportunity maybe ending after the massive amount of personal money that I put into doing the show.”“And I was so disheartened to see that people saw someone crying and they thought, ‘Oh, this person is weak,’” she says. “That really bothered me, because it’s the complete opposite. It takes a very strong person to show themselves emotionally, and I'm so happy that I'm at that point in my life now.”LaDuca continues, “I just want to encourage people to know that emotion is not weakness. It's actually a very strong thing to be raw and show people how you really feel. So I was really sad to see that happen.”What makes LaDuca’s outlook doubly interesting, though, is knowing she works in an industry stereotypically seen as a breeding ground for toxic masculinity. After all, construction typically conjures up the image of a muscle-bound macho man who adheres to traditional gender norms. They’re tough guys that express their emotions through aggressive catcalling and crushing beer cans, not crying or contouring, which means LaDuca is considered a novelty by many. However, she refutes this notion by arguing that, if you take masculinity and femininity out of the equation, construction workers and drag artists — who are already subverting gender performance — are actually “more similar than you’d think.”“They’re jobs that are incredibly difficult. They’re jobs that require many different types of skill sets coming together to create one product,” she says. Because both professions take a toll on one’s physical and mental health, LaDuca continues, which makes it even more important to be honest in the moment, to feel the full range of emotions from happiness to disappointment, regardless of whether you’re on a television screen, a bar stage or a job site.“Construction is a job that you need to be really tough to do, and you also need to be extremely tough to be a drag queen,” she asserts, before adding that she’s more focused on the similarities than any drama, tears or differences. So you should probably be, too.Photos courtesy of MTV https://www.papermag.com/loosey-laduca-drag-race-2659667589.html

#Rupaul's drag race #Rupauls drag race #Anti-drag legislation #Drag queen #Anti-trans legislation #Loosey laduca #Sandra Song #PAPER

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writingforatwistedworld · 2 years ago

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Happy Follower milestone! You definitely deserve it! I'm glad people are recognizing it! I saw that requests for the 500 follower milestone was open so I hope I'm not bothering you. Reader is in the world already.

Dear Jamil

Forgive me for such a letter, I know you're a busy guy. I thought that this was a better way to express my entire feelings without being dragged off by Grim or some task Crowley needs. I hope you don't mind.

I'm glad that you've finally opened up more to everyone, though I'm sad that it took an overblot to do it. I know it can be difficult to express yourself without comparing yourself to your role and Kalim but it's a start. People should see how intelligent and hard working you are, along with how much control you have over yourself and your magic.

As a magicless person, I find it amazing. The kind of power you hold is incredible, a little terrifying but amazing nevertheless. I think that by having your unique magic, it truly shows your characters. A smart individual who, on the inside, is a bit more caring that he would like to admit. You could have used your magic on anyone, to do pretty much anything, but instead you worked for it. I admire that determination.

I guess what I'm saying is that I hope you continue to show more of yourself, your true self. Not just to me but also Kalim and your family. I can't imagine how hard it must've been for you to constantly hide yourself away, always playing the perfect servant and guard. In the end, you're still a person with dreams and goals. I'm sorry it took us this long to see your pain. Have some confidence in yourself. You're not a shadow.

Thanks for looking out for Kalim and I. I know you get embarrassed when someone praises you too much but it needed to be said. If I can help in any way, please let me know. I'll even babysit Kalim if you need so you can take some well deserved time for yourself. Devotion goes both ways for me so whatever you need, I'll try my best to help. You're always welcome at Ramshackle if you need a break from the chaos. Though it might not be as grand as Scarabia or the other dorms, its comfortable. See you around~

Sincerely yours

Reader

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, death, poison, obsession, obsessive behavior

Jamil Viper-A capable servant

Stretching you noticed that you had fallen asleep. Not for long as the light of the day told you but long enough to make you miss lunch. At least it was a break that you missed. Nothing in the world could make you miss one of Treins classes. Standing up you gathered your things. Just as you were to stand up a letter poking out of your bag was noticed by you. Since when did you have one in there? Putting it in there more safely so it couldn't get lost you made your way to your next lesson, curiosity about the letter not fading.

Dear Prefect of the Ramshackle dorm,

I am honored to receive such a letter. At first I was worried that it was another one from Kalims relatives which offered me something so I would smuggle poison or something like that into his food. They truly never learn. So when you wrote me I thought that someone smuggled something into the food I ate earlier and that I was hallucinating things. But it seemed like it was all real. Do not worry about wasting my time. I am more than happy to hear from you and I can allow myself small breaks. The one who inspired the sorcerer of sands was writing me themselves so how could I ever be angry about such a thing?

At the moment I am still trying to find a good balance between being myself and a perfect servant. Opening up to others is a bit of a challenge after I had been taught all my life to hide my true emotions and life for another person. But dear Overseer, I am nothing compared to you. You were the one that mapped out the stars which the sorcerer used to map out the future. You are the one whose legend and influence survived from a time before the great seven until today. My life will hardly have any impact but you shine brightly. Who knows when you will ever be forgotten? Some argue that something like that will never happen. I also doubt that. Such a great mind like yours is something I could never dream of achieving. Even if I were to be a sultan could I never compete with you.

The fact that you are magicless is either the truth or a lie to hide the true extent of your capabilities. If the second one would be true then I shall follow your will and I will not ask questions about why and when you were to show us them to their true extent. However, if the first one were right then that would make you even more admirable. Someone who is not able to see the world from the view of someone who is capable of magic and even surpassing them in something that should be impossible in is something as good as impossible to achieve. Your wisdom truly does not know any bounds! It's no wonder why they say that you are able to control the strings of fate then! I usually do not use such language but, oh dear! How amazing! That I am able to witness a great new discovery about our greatest scholar!

You think too highly of me. I'm just a simple servant who only recently has experienced the breeze of freedom. One day I just couldn't take it anymore and plotted against the one I was supposed to serve with my it must loyalty. Loyalty, how interesting. They should know that it lies in truth with you. If you were to ask me to poison Kalim so that my full attention was on you I would do so with a smile. Any preference for what poison I should use? Or maybe you want him as a marionette to rule over the scalding sands from the shadows? In this case I would use my special magic immediately.

So please, don't put yourself on my level. You do not need to look after Kalim for me. It is my duty to be a servant. All my life you had been that gradient light for me, always out of grasp yet your legends always present. Allow me to witness your glory and let me be the one who also defends it from the shadows. No ruler, no matter how powerful they are shall ever think of surpassing you. It's not something many know but I am rather knowledgeable about poisons and other ways of getting rid of others. You and you alone belong to the highest of the high. Tell me if that were ever to be endangered. I will take action immediately to ensure that they wouldn't dare that again. Well, if they still would be able to do that physically. Some poisons don't kill people, you know? Some leave them caged in a body that won't move for all eternity. But of course you are aware of that.

Sincerely

Jamil Viper

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #self aware au #yandere jamil x reader #yandere jamil viper #yandere jamil #tw: yandere #tw: murder #tw: death #tw: poison #tw: obsession #tw: obsessive behavior

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shotorozu · 4 years ago

Note

hello!! i saw that your requests were open and wanted to ask if you could do single dad! atsumu suna and sakusa falling in love with reader, like it's sort of a meet cute (or not) but the reader falls for them and the kid and happiness lskfjsdfk have a great day!!

single dad! falling for reader

character(s) : miya atsumu, suna rintarou, sakusa kiyoomi (haikyuu!!)

legend : [Y/N = your name] they/them pronouns used, timeskip au! (because,, single dads.)

headcanon type : fluff, crack and angst if you squint (x reader)

warning(s) : mentions of the character’s ex wives, the ex-wives being jerks for multiple different reasons and ways (so,, be warned. for negligence, not very detailed hitting, and cheating, but not on reader)

note(s) : me, writing for haikyuu?? wow, a surprise! also, it’s been a while since i’ve written for haikyuu so if i don’t get the characterization correctly— ESPECIALLY FOR SAKUSA, i’m sorry in advance.

»»————-　♡　————-««

miya atsumu

at first, his marriage was happy. miya atsumu— successful in his 20s, basically set for life, and with a head strong wife that gave him a wonderful daughter

he was elated when his son, genji came into this world. he wouldn’t swap him out for anyone else. and it was all good, really

until he started spotting marks on genji’s delicate skin, and he even found a large bruise on his shoulder when he was changing his shirt! he almost passed away seeing that

genji would also have a sudden fear of being alone in the house— even when his mother would stay behind to take care of him

but why though? genji’s only 4! what could’ve happened to him? he doesn’t recall hiring any babysitters.

he finally found the answer one day, when he found out that his head strong, intense wife— has been physical with him!

basically, all the love for his wife flew out the window, and he filed for a divorce— and of course, he won custody

and he assumed that his love life would stop at that— and it didn’t sound terrible. all that mattered was that his son was safe, and happy again

but this is where you come in

you work at a toy store, a small business toy store really, that sold the highest of quality only

and atsumu took genji to either replace, or fix the toy he broke a few days back. the place was recommended to him by shoyo— who also had a kid of his own

you’re just two years younger than him, eyes full of determination and care, practically the complete opposite of his ex-wife.

you put up a good conversation with him, while you fixed the toy— the two of you talking about the mutual friends, and that ‘this place should be a lot more popular.’

and also, his son did happen to take a liking to you. he seemed joyous in your presence— compared to how he was with his ex-wife

and from that moment on, the two of you would only become closer— especially when a bunch of his son’s toys started breaking magically

before atsumu knew it, he harbored something for you— the absolute angel you were to the both of them

“‘m sorry for the inconvenience,” the faux blond scratches the back of his next “didn’t know genji here was a ‘lil clumsy weasel,”

you laugh, and genji’s just staring at you with amusement, “it’s fine, genji could break his entire toy box— and i’d still fix it anyway.”

so this was the nerve wracking part, “to make up for it, would you like some coffee later? i could treat ‘ya.”

“is this yer way of askin’ Y/N—”

“shut yer mouth for a sec— uhm,” he looks at you, sheepishly

you laugh, “miya, i wouldn’t mind honestly. but i’d assume you’re busy as it is.”

“not at all!” atsumu replies, “i’ll just, drop off genji first. say yer thanks to Y/N,” atsumu looks at genji, encouraging him to say his thanks

“,,thanks for fixing my toys, Y/N.”

“no problem, genji.” you smile at the two of them when they move to leave the store, fixed toys in hand— as they wave at you before parting

“oh, Y/N?” atsumu calls out,

“yeah?”

“call me atsumu— from now on.” his cheeks are tinted pink, and he can feel genji’s eyes on him.

“oh, uhm. yeah! i’ll see you later, atsumu.”

so yeah— the two of you went out for some coffee, and before he even knew it, he was in love.

it might take him a few months to realize it though

suna rintarou

i can’t imagine him having kids for some reason 💀 but if he were to have any, he’d definitely have a daughter

rintarou himself, didn’t think he would have kids at at all, really. but the moment he was able to meet asuka— his lovely little daughter

he was hooked. he seemed a little awkward at first, not very used to caring for a child. but he was actually decent at his job

he’d sneak into his daughter’s room to hold her when she was upset— even when his wife was too knocked out to realize it, and he’d show her picture books

since she liked them a lot, even when she can’t coherently read a straight paragraph yet.

it started to concern him when he realized how little his wife was involved in the development of their daughter.

she started acting different, a little bit after she didn’t have to breastfeed asuka

and then, that’s when it happened.

“i literally can’t believe you,” he speaks when he’s packing his things, “we have a child together.”

his soon to be ex wife is on the floor, begging him to stay— but he doesn’t care. “look, the idea of you cheating wasn’t very surprising. i don’t care anymore, really. but the fact that you’ve been neglecting asuka for your selfish needs is low. i hope you’re ashamed of yourself.”

his words are so much different that his lenient, calm self. which only solidifies reality

so he leaves with asuka, not caring about the sobs that left his soon to be ex wife’s mouth.

and even though he was still angry at his wife for not being there, he’d never let it show to asuka

he’d still show her picture books, he’d still sit down and watch miraculous ladybug with her— even when she doesn’t understand it all completely

and speaking of picture books— he decided that he needed to buy more for her

so he took her to the bookstore, and he didn’t really know what he was doing. he bought all those previous books when asuka was still a newborn

now it’s a little fuzzy on what he should be looking for. colors, right? he needs a picture book that has plenty of colors.

and that’s where you come in. you’re youthful, despite looking not that far off his age, you’re humming to yourself as you fix the bookshelves

“uhm,” he calls out for your help, and you look at him in recognition “need any help? what are you looking for?”

there’s a helpful glint in your eyes, and it reminded him of what should’ve been in his ex wife’s eyes. “my daughter, likes picture books. and,, i don’t know what i’m doing.”

she’s basically a replica of him, same eye color, and same hair color. but her eyes are much more rounded, youthful.

“cute kid,” you smile when she coos at you, “the children books are this way, follow me!” you exclaim, moving to navigate your way to the children’s book isle

so it seems to be that you really know what you’re doing. most people would’ve recommended picture books with a lot of words, or just no words at all

but you’ve found the books that made asuka exclaim in happiness.

and although it’s not very obvious that rintarou’s caring to his child— he is, and you could tell. despite looking lost, and sometimes bored when you’re explaining the books.

so every 2 weeks, the father would return with his daughter, after he got back from volleyball— and you’d help them pick out on certain books.

rintarou assumed he’d never take a liking in anyone again, but,, here he is. and he doesn’t know how you’ll react to that.

but it’s worth a try— he’d try and get your number when he’d see you again

the next time you see him, the middle blocker’s alone. and he tells you that he needs more picture books for asuka, since she’s staying over at his volleyball friend’s house for a day

“Y/N,”

“yes?” you turn your head, meeting his stare. he looks well,, himself. like how he first sought out for your help a few weeks back

“,, could i get your number? y’know, just in case asuka wanted worded books in the future. you’ve helped a lot, so,,”

you smile, “is this your way of hitting on me?”

he didn’t think it was that obvious, “what?— i mean,” he fumbles to reason out, feeling a bit more awkward. because yes, he’s asking you out but,, he has the power to make things more laxed, y’know?

truthfully, you don’t know much about him. you know a lot about his daughter, sure! but you don’t know anything about her biological mother, or what happened, or why she’s not taking asuka to the bookstore

but you chose not to ask, out of respect. he’d tell you some other day. “i’m just teasing,” you smile, moving to get a small piece of paper— writing your digits on the paper, and placing it in his pocket

“i’d like to see you again,” you smile, “say hi to asuka for me.”

the middle blocker left the store in content, absolutely sure that asuka would love to see you again even when she can’t form proper sentences.

sakusa kiyoomi

didn’t think he’d be fit to be a father— but here he is

though he seems cold, he does take responsibility, and he does love and care for his child, seina

it’s not like he’ll be posting pictures of his child everywhere— i mean, even if he had a different personality, he still wouldn’t be posting his kid everywhere

but he does cherish seina, like his life depended on it. he’d still silently watch her cross out word puzzles in a messy matter, he’d silently listen to her talk about her favorite pastries

he loves her!

so that’s why it made him mad, when even after 4 years of seina being born, her mother made little to no effort in spending time with her

doesn’t matter if it was a simple gesture like tucking her in, or showing up to a birthday— she just,, never did.

it was almost as if she was ignoring seina, which causes some distraught on the child’s behalf— which passed on the negative feeling to him

like,, seina wasn’t an unbearable kid. sure, she acted up here and there, that’s an issue kiyoomi has been trying to fix on his own

but it was nothing too concerning, and it was containable. but his wife treated her like she was absolutely unbearable

and it was super strange because, she’d act normal around him, but would barely acknowledge her own daughter’s existence

so what did kiyoomi do? he confronted her, of course.

and no— his wife wasn’t cheating, and nothing tragic happened that would’ve caused her to be this way

she was just,, lazy

“so.. you gave birth and stopped caring for her? is that it?” furious was an understatement, considering that his wife forgot to make her daughter breakfast

which caused her to sneak out of the house, and ask for some breakfast from some nice neighbors.

“look, if you want nothing to do with her, just say that. i’m taking seina, and leaving.” so yeah now he’s a single father.

to say he didn’t love her was too quick, a part of him didn’t love the fact that his wife loved him, but didn’t show any sign of affection towards her daughter.

he knew it was going to fade away anyway. his feelings for his unofficial ex wife.

and i don’t think he’d plan on seeing new people, since now these days— people just like the idea of being with him

which meant that most people would’ve been scared away, or turned off if they really sat down in a conversation with him

besides the point, kiyoomi was taking his daughter to the bakery again— as she was craving new pastries, and wanted to go to the new bakery that just opened near by

and kiyoomi was like “why not ig” and took her there— but then, this is where he’d meet you for the first time

you were one of the bakers, and it’s not like he was going to pay attention to you— until you did something even HE couldn’t do

“papa, whyyyy” the whining sounding painful in his ears, as his daughter clung to the display of pastries “can’t we get moreeee??”

“seina,” he sighs, “no, we can’t.”

“but—”

“papa, you’re no fair!” her bottom lip trembles, and he could almost FEEL the judgmental stares of the other customers in the bakery

and this is where you come in, “is something the matter?”

“papa won’t.. get me more!” she stares at the selection of pastries, “i’ve been so nice but.. it’s no fair!” her eyes tear up

“don’t cry,” you bend down to blot her tears away with a tissue, “y’know, he probably has a reason, but you’re in luck— actually!” you maneuver behind the counter

you come out from behind, presenting a fresh batch of pastries— that were just right to his daughter’s liking, to the point that it shut her up entirely

“they’re on the house, today’s our opening day, so it’s the bakery’s treat!”you state in a warming matter, grabbing a paper bag to place the pastries in

kiyoomi stares at you, observing you quietly— you could feel his cold stare, even though he’s wearing a medical face mask, that covers about half of his face

you blink, not knowing what is going through his head, and you gesture to his daughter to take them

you clearly don’t know who he is— and that gives kiyoomi some sort of relief, compared to the other customers that are murmuring to each other “sakusa kiyoomi’s here with his daughter! is this what he does in his free time?”

kiyoomi takes the paper bag, giving some sort of non verbal acknowledgement, before he takes his daughter’s hand and leaves

“bye, kind person!” seina calls out to you, which catches you off guard— this causes your coworkers to coo at the girl’s words

“didn’t know sakusa’s daughter was so cute!”

and you’d assume that your interactions with the quiet stranger and his daughter would end at that, but no! life is full of surprises.

the tall masked father comes in again, a little bit before closing time— you were absolutely beat, your back feeling as if boulders were glued to the back, and your feet burning from all of the rush

“oh, what could i do for you?”

he stays quiet, but a small presence sticks behind him, and peers up to you. the face is familiar to you, so you wave “hi there! it’s nice to see you again.”

“i wanna say thanks.” her rounded eyes practically shimmer when they lay themselves on the pastries again, but she shakes her head “for the pastries! they’re very tasty.”

“i’m glad you like them, what was your favorite part of the pastry?”

“the filling! twas yummy!” she gives a toothy grin, “tell me, where ‘dya learn to bake like that?”

kiyoomi stares at the scene unfolding before him. it was.. new. unfamiliar— he hasn’t seen his daughter act like this with anyone else— besides him and his team mates. so, he simply watched.

seina babbled and babbled, much to the your amusement— and the other staff members. you listened to her with your full attention, your interest never wavering in the slightest

it’s a bit later, kiyoomi holds a tired seina in his arms— you expect him to leave the bakery, his daughter’s wishes been fulfilled, and he wouldn’t have a reason to stick around

but then he presents to you a large stack of cash “for the pastries. my,, daughter really liked them.”

your eyes widen, “sir! i told you, the pastries were on the house!” you shake your head, “either way, i can’t take this! it’s too much for some pastries!”

“no, seina insists. in fact, she’s entirely why i’m here.” his tone stays consistent, but even with the mask— you could tell that he’s smiling. “she’s well,, everything. if she’s set on something, then she’ll do everything to achieve her goal.”

you smile at the statement, “thanks for bringing her here sir..?”

kiyoomi hesitates to tell you his name for a moment, an unfamiliar, yet familiar pound in his chest rises— he chooses to not figure it out right now, considering that it would be too soon to pursue a romantic relationship.

but, if his daughter brought him here, then it must be for a reason. “kiyoomi.”

“right,” you smile, “thanks for coming here, kiyoomi. you can give me a call, if seina wants any more pastries.” you write your number on a piece of paper, and hand it to him

he doesn’t reply, but he does take the piece of paper anyway— keeping it in his pocket

and for once, he thinks that he doesn’t hate having to go to the bakery weekly., because there’ll be a warm presence there to greet him— and of course, seina.

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own hq!! and it’s characters. haikyuu!! belongs to furudate haruichi, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

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sluttywonwoo · 4 years ago

Text

dirty reflection || hvc x reader

Summary: fulfilling a long held fantasy with your boyfriend (cockwarming him in front of a mirror)

Warnings: swearing, smut (18+)

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: this is for @junsol happy birthday tiff!!

Masterlist

“Tell me!”

“No!”

“Please!”

“No, I’m too embarrassed!”

You turned away from your boyfriend on the couch with your arms folded across your chest in protest. If there was anyone who could get you to spill something it was Vernon, but you were determined not to break.

“Please, baby?” he asked again, and walked around to the other side of the sofa so that you could see his big brown eyes.

You squeezed your own eyes shut, as to not let him guilt trip you and shook your head stubbornly. Vernon let out a sigh of frustration and you thought that maybe he had given up until you heard him chuckle above you.

“Fine, then I guess we won’t have sex at all.”

“What?”

You opened your eyes again and stared at your boyfriend in disbelief. He smirked.

“You heard me.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You’re bluffing.”

“No,” he insisted, doubling down. “If you won’t tell me what you want, we won’t have sex until you do.”

“You know what I want! You already know how to make me feel good.”

“I thought I did,” he huffed, sticking out his bottom lip in a pout.

“You do!”

Vernon raised his arms above his head, bringing the hem of his t-shirt up to reveal a small strip of his stomach and the elastic of his Calvin Klein’s. You sucked in a breath and pursed your lips, ignoring the sight before you.

“But not this!”

The this he was referring to was just a silly fantasy of yours, one that you had purposely kept secret because you were embarrassed to admit to wanting something so... filthy. You had never planned to fulfill it- you were more than content to simply imagine the scene playing out when Vernon wasn’t home, and use your own hands instead of his to take the edge off. But as of 20 minutes ago that wasn’t an option anymore because your boyfriend had come across your messages with your best friend about that very fantasy.

He hadn’t meant to pry. He had just gotten home from rehearsal and grabbed your Mac off of the coffee table to check Twitter. You weren’t around, but he always used your computer to scroll through social media anyway so he figured he didn’t need to ask. Your last iMessage conversation with Sloane was still up, and he went to minimize the window when he read his name at the top of one of your blue bubbles. He knew he shouldn’t have been reading your private messages, but he couldn’t stop himself.

s: you should just tell him

y/n: idk how to bring it up

s: it’s not that hard

y/n: would it be weird to ask you to tell him for me?

s: bitch yes

s: I don’t want to talk to your bf about your sex life

y/n: vernon knows you though! You could just sneak it into conversation casually yk?

s: i’m not telling him you want to be-

That was as far as he got before you walked back into the room and he slammed the laptop shut in panic, looking like you’d just caught him watching porn- which to be fair, you had done a number of times before.

Before you could say anything, or even process what had just happened, Vernon flipped it around on you.

“What aren’t you telling me?”

Your brain still hadn’t processed the situation so you furrowed your brow in confusion. “I don’t know what you mean-”

“Why are you talking to Sloane about our sex life?” he demanded. It finally clicked. “And what about it is so terrible about it that you don’t want to tell me yourself?”

“There’s nothing terrible about it!” you assured him.

“Then what?” His face was starting to turn red like it did whenever he got worked up. “Have you been faking-”

“No!" You could feel your face starting to heat up as well at the implication. “We were just talking about a dumb fantasy of mine, that’s all.”

And that’s what led you to where you were now, staring each other down over the edge of the couch, daring the other to be the first to break. The room was still filled with tension, but there had been a shift in context.

Vernon’s eyes were dark and nearly unreadable in the dim light of your living room.

“You’re really not going to fuck me until I tell you?” you asked. He nodded again in earnest, and raised his eyebrows expectantly. “But what do I get out of telling you?”

He gave you a look like it should have been obvious. “We’re going to do it.”

You hesitated. “What if you’re not into it?”

He shrugged and brushed off the possibility. “I’m into whatever you’re into.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I promise,” Vernon said and pressed a kiss to your lips as if to seal it. “I’m not going to judge whatever it is you want me to do to you. No matter how gross it is.”

You scoffed and swatted at him, but he dodged your hand easily.

“I can’t stand you,” you muttered.

“Oh, is that why you’re always kneeling for me?”

“Do you want me to tell you or not?”

The smirk fell from his face as he hastily cleared his throat and beckoned for you to continue.

“You know that mirror we have in our bedroom?” you asked.

Vernon nodded, a grin playing at the corner of his mouth as if he had an idea about where this was going.

“I’ve always wanted to cockwarm you while we sit in front of it.”

Your boyfriend was smiling from ear to ear now. He had you right where he wanted you.

“Is that all?” he asked.

“I mean, pretty much, yeah.”

“Pretty much?” The next part you mumbled under your breath. “What was that?” Vernon asked, leaning over the couch so that he could hear you.

“Yes,” you bit out and clenched your jaw in a pathetic sort of pout.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he teased, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Okay, get up.”

“What, why?”

“I’ve got some lyrics to work over. You can keep my cock warm while I do that.”

“Right now?”

“I thought that’s what you wanted?”

“It-it is.”

“Then get up.”

You did as you were told and stood up from your spot on the sofa, watching as Vernon grabbed the back of one of the kitchen chairs and began dragging it behind him.

“Why-”

“I don’t want to ruin our armchair,” he said as an explanation and jerked his head in the direction of your bedroom, motioning for you to follow him.

The mirror in your bedroom was one of your favorite things in the house. It sat on the floor leaned up against the wall with a large ornate frame encompassing it. It was almost taller than you, and weighed about sixty pounds. Its gold paint was chipping in the corners and it was a bit scuffed up, but it was still the best find you’d ever made at the antique fair and you stood by that. You still remembered carrying it home the day you bought it. Vernon had filmed the process instead of helping, watching you struggle with the newspaper-wrapped package through the screen on his phone with a smug grin on his face the entire time.

Vernon set the chair on the floor in front of the mirror and began to strip, pulling off his hoodie first before shimmying out of his joggers. You followed in suit by unzipping your skirt and letting it fall to the ground. You stepped out of it and went for your shirt next, yanking it over your head. Your hands went for the clasp of your bra after that before thinking twice.

“Do you want my bra off or-”

He seemed to think about it for a moment before answering. “Leave it on.”

You nodded and dropped your hands back by your side, watching him grab his notebook from the desk and settle on the chair. He was completely naked now, and you were left in just your underwear, a scene you both were intimately familiar with.

He spat into his palm and took his cock in his hand, pumping a few times before you stopped him.

“Let me,” you offered, kneeling on the floor in front of him.

He groaned and handed over control easily. You grinned to yourself before taking him in your mouth. You knew he’d never pass up an opportunity to have you suck him off.

You worked slowly, taking your time, enjoying the feeling of him getting hard on your tongue. Vernon gripped your hair with one hand and clutched his notebook with the other. He fought to keep his eyes open, to keep his head upright. In the mirror he could see the back of your head bobbing up and down on his lap, the expanse of your back, every scar, freckle, and mole he’d seen a thousand times before but now from a different angle.

You hollowed out your cheeks and took him to the back of your throat, trying not to laugh when you heard him curse.

“Stop,” he breathed out, pulling you off of him by your hair. “You’re a menace.”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled. “Thank you.”

He glared at you for a moment before flicking his gaze downwards.

“I’d ask if you want me to return the favor, but I don’t think I need to.” He reached out to prove his point and brushed a couple fingers over your panties, ignoring the way you trembled as he did. He held his hand up to you to show you the wetness gathered on his pointer and index before bringing them to his lips and sucking it off. “You’re plenty wet already.”

You suppressed a moan and pursed your lips, nodding in agreement.

Vernon didn’t have to say anything for you to know what he wanted next. You slipped out of your panties and tossed them to the side. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you straddled him and lined yourself up. You both sighed as you sank down onto his cock. He kissed you deeply, winding a hand through hair and moaning your name. You let your head rest against his shoulder and tried not to rock your hips forward. Your boyfriend was having similar issues, hips stuttering underneath you, head falling back in pleasure.

“H-hansol,” you gasped.

“Don’t,” he warned through gritted teeth. You clenched around him involuntarily and whined. “What did I just say?”

“Sorry, can’t help it.”

He took a deep breath and began flipping through the pages of his notebook. You craned your neck to look back at your reflection in the mirror, smiling weakly at the sight. Vernon had an arm slung loosely around your waist still. His cheeks were rosy and warm to the touch. Your ass was on full display at this angle, but you didn’t mind. You knew it was your boyfriend’s favorite view anyway, and you weren’t ashamed to admit that you could see why.

The way you were seated on his lap made it look like you could have just been cuddling. The reflection didn’t show Vernon’s cock buried deep inside your pussy and your breathing had slowed to somewhat of a normal pace.

Vernon began to hum to himself and you turned your attention back to him, admiring how he looked while he was concentrating. His eyelashes were so fucking long, it was something you had always been jealous of. The light filtering into the room made them look blond and you thought back to all of the colors he had dyed his hair before.

It was brown now, with remnants of the previous black still fading, but he had gone blond once before. You still remembered how shocked you had been when he came home from the salon that day.

You were doing so good. You were relaxing comfortably, lost in your own thoughts, when Vernon moved for the first time. He was just scratching his ankle, but the sudden movement made you yelp.

“Don’t do that!” you cried.

“What, this?” he asked and bent down to scratch his ankle again.

“Yes, that,” you growled.

“Why not?”

“You know why.”

“What about this?”

He leaned back and stretched his arms above his head.

“That’s worse!” you hissed.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He just shrugged and tossed his notebook on the bed. “Don’t you have work to do?”

“Could use a break,” he replied simply, “and it’s hard to focus with distractions.”

The last part was pointed at you and you narrowed your eyes.

“I have been perfectly still.”

“Yeah, but your... impatience is, well, physical.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re soaking, love.”

You looked down at Vernon’s lap and suddenly realized what he meant. Your arousal was quite literally dripping onto his thighs and the chair beneath you. That was why he didn’t want to use the armchair. You felt your face heat up in embarrassment and buried your head in your boyfriend’s shoulder.

“Fuck, I’m sorry!”

He chuckled and rubbed a hand up and down your back comfortingly. “Don’t be! I know you can’t help it, and it’s honestly really fucking hot.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No,” he promised and shook his head adamantly. “I like that I have this effect on you.”

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I know.”

“So this fantasy of yours,” he said, clearing his throat. “How does it end?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“You.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about me?”

“Whatever you want.”

“I get to pick how it ends?”

“Mhm. I usually leave it up to the imagination so it’s open-ended.”

“You mean when you masturbate to it you cum before it ends so you lose interest?” Vernon clarified.

“Maybe.”

“I know you,” he said cockily.

“And like I said, you know what I like.”

“I like to think I do.”

“So tell me what to do.”

“You just like being bossed around.”

“And what about it?”

“Brat,” he spat.

“Bitch.”

Vernon smiled and jerked his hips the slightest bit, making you whimper. “Stand up.”

You tried not to show your disappointment, but did as you were told and stood up, wincing at the empty feeling that followed.

“Just for a minute, baby,” he assured you. “Turn around.”

You turned so that you were facing the mirror and let yourself be pulled back onto your boyfriend’s lap. He slid his cock back inside of you almost immediately and praised you for taking it so well.

“I thought you should see yourself,” he whispered against your shoulder.

You moaned, only able to nod in agreement. You were positioned at a bit of an angle now since you were facing forward, but any discomfort you felt evaporated when Hansol kissed the back of your neck. He unclasped your bra and let it fall to the floor.

“Look at you,” he murmured as he urged you to start riding him, “fucking yourself on my cock like a slut.”

“Fuck, Hansol.”

You forced yourself to look at your reflection, straining your neck so that you could see clearly. You made eye contact with yourself only to see a stranger stared back at you. The person in the mirror looked like a fucking pornstar, tits out, legs spread, but also fucked out of their mind.

“Feels so good,” you panted.

“I know, baby, I know.”

Vernon brought a hand down to your clit and started to rub in circular motions, a clue that he was getting close. Your legs were shaking at this point and you could feel your own orgasm starting to creep up on you as he slammed into you from behind.

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Vernon grunted.

You met his eyes in the reflection and gave a weak smile. “I know.”

“Fuck, y/n!” He came suddenly with a moan of your name. You watched in the mirror as his eyes screwed up and his whole body tensed underneath you.

“Can I- can I cum?” you begged, not even sure if you’d be able to hold out if he said no.

A mere nod of his head was all it took for you to tip over the edge. Vernon weakly fucked you through it, still riding the end of his own high.

“So good for me,” he managed in broken breaths.

You arched your back against his chest as you came, mumbling profanities the entire time. You tried to keep your eyes open to watch yourself fall apart, but you only caught glimpses.

You collapsed back against Vernon as the aftershocks of your orgasm subsided, gasping for breath like you had just finished running a marathon.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Vernon wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, kissing the top of your head gently. You were both covered in sweat and cum, but neither of you could find the energy to care.

“Of course.”

You let yourself relax against his body for another moment, observing your reflections in the mirror. Your hair was a tangled mess, but so was Vernon’s. Hickeys were already beginning to bloom on your neck and shoulders, reminders to follow you in the days ahead.

Your eyes wandered up to meet your boyfriend’s, who was already gazing at you tenderly. You shared a brief look and smirked at each other.

“Round two?”

happy birthday again tiff!! love u, mean it <3 (lmk what you thought i always appreciate feedback)

shoot me an ask if you'd like to be added to my taglist

#dirty reflection #vernon x reader #hansol x reader #vernon smut #hansol smut #seventeen smut #vernon x you #vernon x y/n

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johnkrrasinski · 4 years ago

Text

started from a call

full masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 3,610

Warning: angst with a happy ending! that's all.

Summary: written for @wkemeup's 9k writing challenge with the prompt "character a leaves an embarrassing, drunk message on character b’s voicemail and spends the rest of the night trying to discreetly delete it from [b]’s phone." inspired by a bit of ross and rachel from friends too. you found out from steve that bucky was in love with you in high school but after he returns home with a girl in his arm, you cancelled your plans to tell him how you feel. will you and bucky have your happy ending?

a/n: please like, reblog and leave a feedback. :) enjoy!

"Alright, I'll see you tonight. Bye." He leaned against the kitchen counter and hung up the phone with a grin on his face. "You hear that, Sam? We're going on our third date tonight." He threw his phone up into the air and caught it so casually without spilling a drop of his coffee sitting on his right hand. "Looks like I'm getting that 300 bucks soon."

"Hey, easy. You ain't going to that date yet, who knows? She could bail on you. It doesn't count if the date doesn't end well."

"Oh, but it will. I just gotta turn on my charm and next thing you know, we're already meeting the parents stage."

"Meeting the parents? That's a big step from you, Buck."

"Hey, I'm a man of my words. If I said that I'm going to change this year then I'm gonna stick to it."

"So Leah isn't just a one-time thing to get 300 bucks?"

"Maybe yes, maybe no. We'll see how tonight goes. But one thing's for sure is that I'm getting that 300 bucks."

Sam and Bucky made a bet as their New Year's resolution that Bucky would never go on a second date with any girl or remember to call her in the morning after a wild night. His commitment issues had given him a reputation as the player in the gang. It wasn't a new thing anymore to anyone that when they visited Bucky's place in the morning, they would see a girl with a dopey smile and slightly ruffled hair walking out of his apartment, giddy that Bucky just made a promise to call her later.

You, Natasha, Wanda, Sam and Steve were hanging out at Nat's place. The six of you had been friends since college. You, Nat, Bucky and Steve had known each other since high school and the four of you kept in touch despite going to separate universities. You met Wanda when you went to NYU and Steve met Sam while he was in Harvard. Long story short, after the four of you graduated, you and Wanda lived together as roommates and even started your own bakery business. Steve and Bucky lived in the same building as you and Natasha and Sam lived nearly alone. They were too independent for roommates. Don't even start on Natasha and how much she valued her personal space. That's how the six of you ended up here, gathered at your place on a Saturday afternoon.

"Are you gonna pick her up tonight?"

"Of course. Gonna clean up well, bring her some flowers and knock on her door at 7 pm precisely. Which girl isn't gonna fall for that?" Bucky walked over to the couch you and Nat were sitting on and leaned on the headrest, his arms caging both you and Natasha.

You didn't say anything nor did Natasha because she knew about your feelings for Bucky. Despite never feeling that way about Bucky in high school, your feelings changed a week ago after learning that Bucky used to be in love with you but never had the courage to tell you. That's why he never had a girlfriend during his high school years and he wanted to take you to prom and confess his feelings to you but he was too late. Another guy had already snooped in first.

You were his first love but it wasn't reciprocated until now. That's why in college, he learned how to get over you and slept with as many women as possible because he felt like he lost four years of his life of finding the one. He never intended to be a player and feed girls empty promises, it just kind of became his way of dating. He was too afraid that no one could live up to you yet he enjoyed being with women. Hence, the bet.

The day you found out from Steve about Bucky's past feelings for you while playing truth or dare, you immediately wanted to call him up but Bucky was out of town for a few days and as soon as he was back home, he had Leah in his arm. Your heart was crushed. Wanda told you that it would probably last for a few days and that he'd eventually be single again but you totally did not expect this thing to turn into something serious. You loved Sam with every fibre of your being, he was like the big brother you never had, but you wanted to curse him for making that bet.

So you just rolled your eyes and stayed silent throughout this entire conversation, even though your heart felt like it was being stabbed over and over again. "Alright, I gotta go. Got a big date tonight. I'll see you guys in a few hours." Just like that, Bucky walked out of the room without knowing the pain his words caused you.

The next day you were sitting in your bed watching The Notebook in your pyjamas because you were too heartbroken to do anything productive. It was Sunday so you could just have a whole day to yourself and do absolutely nothing but cry. Wanda knocked on your door bringing a plate of cookies and she had a pitiful look on her face. "y/n? Sweetie? I made you these cookies, they might make you feel better." Sometimes you thank the stars for bringing her into your life.

"Thank you, Wanda. You're so nice to me." You know you probably sound like a hormonal whiny kid but everything made you cry at the moment.

"Do you need anything else? I know how it feels to get your heartbroken, trust me. When me and Vision had a fight and we didn't talk for days all I wanted was to curl up and never leave my bed, so in case you need anything, I'm here." She offered you that warm smile of hers.

"No, all I want right now is to just eat these cookies and go back to my film, thanks Wan."

"Okay, I'll be outside." Your pity party was interrupted when Nat arrived in her leather jacket and burst into your room.

"Get up, you are taking a shower and you're getting that face beat."

"Natasha, what the hell? Leave me alone."

"Y/N, listen to me. I got a date for you. His name is Scott and he's a real nice guy, he's funny, he's a good friend of mine and he is really smart. He is so much better than Bucky, I promise you. Now c'mon, I already told him that you are meeting him tonight at Stark's restaurant at 7."

You whined, doing anything you can to get her to leave you alone with your tears and your cookies but you knew that once Natasha set her mind on something, there's no talking her way out of it. Damn that woman with her determination.

"Y/N, c'mon! Wallowing all day isn't you. I know you and what's good for you. That's why I found you a great guy who will charm you so good that you will forget Barnes even existed. You can't let him win, y/n. If he's going to be happy with someone else, then you better show him that you can be much happier with other people."

You stared at her, trying to absorb her words. There's some wisdom in that. You're not the type to cry over a guy, not even for even Bucky Barnes. So you let Natasha drag you to the shower and asked Wanda to do your hair when she does your makeup. She chose an outfit for you, a dress that was not too sexy but chic enough to leave a good first impression.

Scott was early to the restaurant and he looked elated to see you. He was wearing a grey suit with no tie and he had a really exuberant smile on his face, the type that drew people easily. You could see why Natasha called him a nice guy.

"Wow, sorry, I just- didn't expect you to be this beautiful."

"Ah, thank you, Scott. Have you been waiting long?"

"No, not at all. I just arrived here like five minutes ago."

The night went on and Scott did most of the asking and talking, you answered each question curtly with forced enthusiasm in your face and body language. You weren't even listening to half of the things he said because your mind kept playing images of Bucky with Leah and how you heard from Sam that the date went well so he lost 300 bucks. You kept thinking about Bucky and Leah and how they would probably get married and have kids and live in the suburbs with a golden retriever while you'd still be single and you'd compare every man you meet to Bucky. Maybe it was your karma for not reciprocating his feelings in high school.

Five glasses of wine and you spent more time nodding than talking. Honestly, all you wanted to do was to just go home and go back to The Notebook because their love story was much better than your love life. Scott woke you out of your daze, "Natasha told you that I was cuter than this, did she?" after you gulped your sixth glass of wine.

"Oh Scott, I'm so sorry. It's not you, it's me. I know it sounds cliche but it's just... I'm not in a place where I'm looking for a boyfriend. You are a really likeable guy and I swear, if we had met at another time, maybe I would be a better date but right now, I just- I have someone else in my mind." You sighed, it felt like a relief to get that off your chest.

"Is this guy... an ex-boyfriend?"

You chuckled, "no... He wishes."

Scott nodded, "look, I don't know what your situation is but I've been through a divorce and it's never easy. But eventually, you'll be fine. You can't see it now because you haven't had closure." Then it was as if the bulb above your head was turned on.

"That's it. Closure, yeah. That's all I need. Okay, give me a minute. I'm gonna call him now and I'm going to get my closure."

Scott sat there watching you comically trying to find your phone in your purse and tapped on Bucky's contact number. The normal you would be sweating with every ring but intoxicated you had no worries in the world... For now.

"This is Bucky. Can't pick up right now, leave a message." Beep.

"Hello, yes, Bucky! Or James, should I call you James? I always thought Bucky was a weird name. Anyways, I'm just calling to tell you that I am fine and I am on a date with Scott. And speaking of dates, I just gotta tell you that I'm happy to hear that your date went well. And that, my friend, means that I am over you. That's right, I'm over you. Tell Leah I say hi." You said sarcastically.

You hung up the phone and threw your phone back into your purse. You felt like you just won a chess game.

The next morning you decided to sleep in because your heart was pounding and you could barely sit up without feeling like you might fall. You were supposed to be working at the bakery but since you owned the bakery, Wanda let you sleep it off until you recover. You couldn't remember anything from last night, how you got back to your apartment was a mystery. You tried to put the pictures together, from being forced to go on a date, meeting a guy named Sean? Simon? Sebastian? Scott! Yes, Scott. You ordered your meals and then... Nothing, it was all blurry. You weren't even sure if anything happened at all after eating your meals.

The apartment was empty because Wanda was working at the bakery and it was just you with your hangover pills. Bucky came to your apartment without knocking because Wanda told him on the phone that you were home. He greeted you with a smile and asked about your date.

"Uh, let's see. I think there was a restaurant, I know there was wine. And there's a guy, Scott and pretty much that's all I can recall."

Bucky made a yikes face. Seeing the state you were in, he could do the math (of the wine you had). You probably enjoyed the alcohol more than the guy. What a doofus, he thought. If he was the one going on a date with you, you'd definitely remember every detail from last night.

"Leah's downstairs and I'm taking her back to her place but I left my keys here last night. Have you seen it?"

"No, check the drawers. Maybe Wanda put 'em there."

"Ah, okay." He opened the drawers and found the keys to his bike.

"Did we... Speak on the phone last night?"

"Nope, my phone was dead and I didn't charge it all night so I haven't really checked it. Why?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just... Never mind. My memories are a bit hazy right now. You should go, say hi to Leah for me."

Bucky nodded as you walked back to your room to go lie down. Your question reminded him that he should probably check his phone now because there could be work-related messages but the first thing he heard was a voicemail from you. "Oh, y/n. I got your message!"

That instantly stopped you in your tracks. Your eyes went wide and you froze. You immediately turned around and ran to grab his phone away from him. Bucky had a confused look on his face, "who's Scott?"

"Oh my God, no, Bucky, give me the phone. Give me the phone!" But it was already too late, he was already halfway through your voicemail and by the time you successfully snatched his phone out of his grasp, he had already heard every word.

Bucky stood there dumbfounded, he needed time to process everything you just said to him. "What do you- what do you mean you're over me?"

"Oh, God... Alright, um- lately, I've um- sort of, have... Feelings for you." You never had to chase a guy or confess your crush first so this felt new and my God, it was nerve-racking.

"You have feelings for me..." He said it as if he was convincing himself that his ears got it right. Bucky couldn't believe the words that just escaped through your lips, for years he had dreamed of this moment. Though never did he ever want you to make the first move but adolescent him wanted to hear you say what he'd been wanting to say to you too.

He didn't say anything for what felt like minutes and you couldn't decipher his thoughts from the look on his face. "I need to sit down," he pulled one of the dining chairs and leaned on his side in a defeated posture.

"Bucky... Please say something." You alerted him in a hushed tone, not wanting to startle him than you already did. But he didn't. He was lost at words. What the hell was he supposed to tell her?

"Look Bucky, I'm sorry for telling you this way but I had to. I just- I've been wanting to talk to you about it since you came back to New York, well- actually, since Steve told me but-"

"Whoa, Steve told you?!" He interrupted.

"Yeah, it just accidentally slipped when we were playing truth or dare..."

"Okay well," he stood up from his seat, yet he still couldn't look you in the eye. "I can't do this right now, Leah's waiting for me downstairs and I gotta go." He basically ran out of the room and slammed the door behind him, leaving you alone.

Once your hangover had begun dissipating, you decided to help Wanda at the bakery and took the night shift. She must've been exhausted from managing the bakery alone while also helping the employees in the kitchen so you told her to go home and leave it to you. The bakery's usually slower at night.

When it was nearing closing time and your employees had gone home, you decided to clean up and turned off the lights and checked everything one last time before locking the door. The bell above the door dinged and you were slightly annoyed because who the hell comes to the bakery at this hour?

"I'm sorry we're clo...sed." It was Bucky. He stood there in a black coat, with an expression you still couldn't figure out. "Bucky, what are you-"

"You have no right to tell me that you've got feelings for me." His tone was harsh, he never spoke that way to you or anyone... Ever.

"What?"

He walked closer to you, maintaining his gaze, "You can not tell me that you've got feelings for me now when I'm doing well with my life and Leah..."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I was in love with you for years! Years, y/n! And you never said and did anything and now when everything's going well you're ruining it!"

"I am ruining it?" You repeated the question because you couldn't believe what you just heard. How dare he said those hurtful things to you.

"Yes! I was doing fine with Leah and now I don't know what's going to happen with me and her anymore..."

"Yeah, well, I was doing fine before I found out that YOU were in love with me and never had the balls to tell me!" You did everything you could to not cry, you hated crying in the middle of an argument.

"Hey, it's not like I didn't try. There were your ex-boyfriends and your dates and I had to move on. I couldn't wait forever! And now, now you're too late."

"Oh, so what? You're just gonna walk away and pretend that this never happened?"

"Yes, I'm going to do exactly that and I'm going to go see Leah." He turned around like he did earlier in your apartment and left you alone once again with your heartbreak.

"Fine! Go ahead and see Leah because I don't give a fuck about cowards like you or whoever you sleep with." You slammed the door and tried everything you could to not have a breakdown here because you really hated letting an argument hurt you. You sat on one of the chairs where the customers would sit and you hid your face with your hands and cried.

Not because you just lost an argument but because of what Bucky said and it felt like you had lost Bucky before you even had him. Now there was no hope left for you and Bucky, things were too complicated.

You didn't know how long you had cried there, alone, in the dimmed lighting of your shop but after you felt like the tears had dried, you wiped the traces of your tears from your cheeks with the back of your thumb. You stood from your seat and was ready to go home. You couldn't wait to eat some leftover pizzas, take a warm shower and cry into your pillows until you fall asleep.

But when you were about to leave, you saw Bucky standing on the other side of the door, watching you through the windows with a softer expression on his face. You opened the door and Bucky instantly grabbed your waist and kissed you as if his life depended on it.

You gave in to his kiss, letting him pour every desire and yearning into your lips for as long as he wanted. You grabbed his face because you wanted him impossibly closer and you shut your eyes, letting your guard down. Because it was Bucky, and you'd known him for as long as you could remember and you both deserved this moment.

Bucky eventually pulled away until both of you were running out of air. You were breathless from his kiss, you never knew he was such a good kisser. (It's Bucky and he's had a lot of women on his bed, of course, he was excellent at it. Who were you kidding?) But now that you've had your own front-row experience, you felt a tad of possessiveness at the thought of sharing those lips or any part of him with anyone else.

"I couldn't go back to her knowing you are here alone and I had thrown away what I've wanted for as long as I could remember."

"I'm glad you came back." You pressed your foreheads and you rested your hands on his chest. You could get used to this.

"I hope it's not too late to say this but, y/n y/l/n, will you let me take you to dinner and see a movie after maybe?"

"I wasn't the one who said it's too late," you halfheartedly teased him.

"Shut up, so is that a yes or a no?"

You bit your lip and nodded, "yes. Definitely a yes." You stared into his ocean blue eyes, so deep and beautiful, you could easily get lost in it.

"y/n y/ln, I'm going to put all of your ex-boyfriends to shame."

"Hm, we'll see about that." You put your arms around his neck. Then a thought crossed your mind and your smile faded away, "what are you gonna do about Leah though?"

"I'll talk to her in the morning. Let's take you home now, yeah? It's getting late."

You bit your lip and nodded, "okay."

Ninth grade you dreamed of popular jocks and athletic seniors, but little did you know that, sometimes, the one who sincerely loved you was the book nerd who loved The Hobbit a little too much.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes modern au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan fanfic #friends to lovers

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wincore · 4 years ago

Text

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.

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