#instead finds out that maybe she likes this whole...lip contact deal

[softquietsteadylove]

Thenamesh mermaid/fishermen AU

Heyyyy <3

I just wanted to know if you could do one where thena splits her tail (after the incident where she gets caught in a net) and Gil decides they should lay low for a day so no-one will discover her. Thena spends a day trying to live like a human. She gets really confused about how showers work, as well as what the purpose of makeup is, and Gil finds it absolutely adorable. Do you think you could add in their first kiss too?

Btw I live for your thenamesh fanfics <3 <3

"Twice in one month, Gil?--what's the occasion?"

"I know," he chuckled as he accepted his change and his purchase. He looked towards the fruit stall, where Thena's new friend had invited her to sit and watch how to peel the fruit for herself. "I just...wanted to get out a bit, I guess."

Thena deserved to get out and see more of the world, instead of just watching it on the tv to ask him her questions when he got home from work. She and Sersi were right; she had to interact with more humans to improve her own humanness, and that could only happen outside in the real world. And the more human she could appear, the further away implications otherwise would get.

That, and...she was so happy!

Gil inhaled as he caught the sound of Thena's laughter travelling over the sea air. He made his way over, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his acquisition.

Thena seemed to be having the time of her life learning to peel mangoes. She loved learning new things, and the older woman seemed happy to teach her.

Thena had been looking forward to returning to the market since their last run in with Kro. He had promised they could come back (after she had pointed out that he had forgotten his promise to buy mangoes for them to eat at home). She had even put some thought into what she wanted to wear for their day out, which was unbearably cute.

He did wake up to her attempting to use the shower for the first time and getting water everywhere, but it was still cute.

She had even asked if he had any makeup. It had confused him a little, but she showed him an article in one of Sersi's magazines about what makeup looks could apply for different occasions. One had mentioned 'hot girl summer', to which she had pointed out that it was summer, and it was hot, and she was the girl part.

He had told her that she didn't need any makeup. By some miracle, she had accepted it and moved on.

Still, the light, white linen sundress she had picked was a lovely outfit. He had caught - too late - a few of her scales showing through on her upper shoulders, but no one seemed to notice. Or maybe they thought that was some kind of makeup, or glitter, or something. But it was cute to see them, he had to admit.

Like her fangs.

"Hey," he smiled as he announced his arrival. Thena was poring over peeling a plump red mango, one long strand of it trailing down to her knees.

"She's a natural," the other woman looked up at him from her seat as she finished slicing what looked to be her twentieth mango. She gave Thena's thigh a tap with her bony hand, "I think your boyfriend needs you, dearie."

"Hm?" Thena looked up, giving him those wide green eyes and the head tilt that he thought was so adorable. She smiled when she saw he was indeed done with 'getting her something' from the far side of the market. "You're back!"

"Here," her new friend chuckled, taking Thena's mango from her and cutting off the very last strip of peel and slicing it into a bag for her. "Enjoy your hard work, Thena."

"Thank you," she beamed at the older woman (fangs and all). Gil kept an eye on them, but the human of the two didn't seem to notice. If she did, then she didn't mind them.

"Actually, I'll need two bags of mangoes, too," Gil chuckled as Thena stood and rounded the stand again. He held out his hand, "unpeeled, please."

"What is that?" Thena asked as she examined what was in his hand.

"Lick it," he encouraged her, although she gave him a funny look. "You'll like it."

Thena took the thing from him, holding it in her two hands (which actually seemed more difficult than just holding it in one). She touched the tip of her tongue to it. "Oh!"

Gil nodded to the woman as he accepted his purchase of their mangoes to take home. "It's mango flavoured ice cream."

"Ice cream," Thena murmured, delving more into the treat without her previous hesitation. "I think I've seen it."

"You probably have," he grinned as he took her hand in his, walking back down the pier with her.

Thena waved to her friend with a grin before returning to her frozen treat. "It's sweet!"

"It's a dessert, like candy," Gil explained, although he got the impression that Thena was only half listening to him. "Can I have a lick?"

She nodded, extending the cone for him so he could duck his head down and take a swipe for himself.

"That is really good," Gil mused as he licked his lips. "The guy makes it himself, so--whoa!"

Thena manoeuvred him so his arm could rest around her and on her waist, allowing her to tuck herself into him more comfortably.

"Angelfish?"

"Thank you, Gil," she said quietly as they walked out of the main alley of the market and towards the steps back down to the docks. She rested her head against his arm.

He sighed. He hadn't lied; he really was miserable in the time he spent without her, waiting for Kro to show up. He really didn't know how he had gone on without her--without the sound of her sleeping to whale noises, or crunching sardines, or counting all the corners she could find in one room.

Thena purred against him as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

She held up the ice cream cone again; offering him some of her delicious snacks was a real display of affection, for her. He grinned, "don't mind if I do!"

Thena watched as he took another lick, licking his lips afterwards again. She tilted her head at her cone, "it's going soft."

"It gets solid because it's frozen water and cream, but it'll melt back into milk if it gets too hot."

Thena opened her mouth and shoved the rest of the scoop in.

Gil's jaw dropped, "Thena!"

She gave him a defiant look, "y'll shaid i'h'll mel't!"

"Chew your food, Angelfish," he sighed, wishing he could be exasperated with her even when she was so adorable. "It won't melt right away."

Thena licked her lips with a grin, "well, it was most enjoyable when it was still cold."

"I guess I can't argue with that." He had to admit, he was glad she enjoyed it so much. Next time he got regular groceries he could get mango ice cream or popsicles for the freezer, too.

Thena crunched the cone with similar delight, although she relinquish the tip of it - with a little melted ice cream pooled therein - to him.

"Aw, thanks Thena," he smiled, leaning and taking the whole thing from her fingers in a bite. He caught her looking at him as he licked his lips after the final bite. "What is it?"

She didn't say anything, just gave him a curious look. She was thinking of something, but it didn't warrant asking him quite yet.

Gil blinked as she leaned up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. It was quick, and kind of at an odd angle, and he felt her tongue swipe by his lips on the way back. Heat shot up the back of his neck and he knew he was already red to his ears.

"Hm," Thena let out softly, licking her own lips now that they were parted again. Her eyes moved over his face, measuring his reaction. She tilted her head just the one time, "different."

"Different?" Gil practically squeaked out (the blush was not going anywhere).

Thena looked down at her dress as it fluttered just below her knees. "It tasted different."

Oh. The ice cream--it had tasted different then than it had just on its own. Gil gulped, "uh, s-sorr-"

"It was nice."

Gil - halting mid apology - looked at her. She slipped her hand into his again, looking at their joined fingers rather than up at him. Her braid had her hair pulled over her ears slightly but he caught a little bit of pink along those razor sharp cheekbones of hers. "Yeah?"

"Hm."

"Okay," Gil sufficed to say, trying not to puff out his chest at the definitive description of their...did she know about kisses? Did he really have what it took to explain it to her if she didn't? He could worry about that later. "Ready to head home?"

Thena just nodded, leaning into him again as she processed whatever she had to in her own way.

"Okay," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple, "let's go, Cuddlefish."

[cinaerii]

MR. TELEPHONE MAN — sim jy. x fem!reader

✧ syn : in which, your boyfriend jake calls you late at night, but you don’t answer. he then jumps to multiple conclusions.

✧ cws : a few kisses, mild profanities. typos & grammatical errors.

on your line though, a last minute notice about the power outage shutting down for a while as they try to figure the problems about the electricity that were issued by many residents.

you panicked as you checked your battery percentage on your phone going lower, it was supposedly the time to be calling jake and telling him about your day and random miscellaneous events.

as soon as jake finished showering and drying his hair to avoid making puddles on the floor, he immediately jumped on his bed and scrolled through his contacts to find yours, clicking the call button.

now it’s unusual for him that you’re not picking his call up right away. he thinks that maybe you’re just dealing with something right now, so he waited patiently for your reply.

but it’s already been 10 minutes since he started calling. jake starts to fidget with his phone, spinning it around as he continues to wait for your callback. his patience was worning out each passing minute.

‘what if she’s not home yet?’

‘what if she’s calling someone else?’

‘what if she got into an accident?’

“nooo, jake don’t think that. get yourself together.” he finished, his eyes glowering at his phone. before he could make a decision to find out what you were up to, another what if statement appeared in his mind.

‘what if she’s ignoring me, playing games without me, watching or listening to music without me?’

by now, he didn’t know why he was suddenly outside of his apartment building and heading towards yours which was only a few blocks away. his walk wasn’t exactly normal, he was practically stomping slightly.

it’s rare to spot a sulky sim jaeyun.

your house was dark, all of the lights were off so what kept you from being able to see a bit was your lit candle that you were able to find. leading your phone to finally die because of using the flashlight feature for too long.

you were constantly cautious for anything that might happen without you knowing. whilst you were wearing a cardigan, there was little to no warmth you could feel, the goosebumps crawling on your skin quickly.

an abrupt knock interrupted your tense figure from negative thoughts coming into your mind. not just a knock, multiple knocks in a pattern to which you recognized as your boyfriend.

you ran to your front door, the prettiest man standing right infront of you. ��jake? what the hell are you doing here?” you opened the door wide enough for him to come inside.

“a power outage?” he ignored your question, as he looked around your apartment, being only lit by a single candle.

“so you weren’t doing anything without me?” he added.

“sim jaeyun.” you snapped, wanting an explanation from his unexpected visit.

“sorry, love. i just thought something happened, so i got worried and.. yeah.” he confessed with a hint of guilt.

you reluctantly nodded at him but asked again, “and?” he tilted his head low, mumbling things that you could not hear.

as much as you wanted him to speak louder, you decide not to request him to repeat what he said. instead you took a step closer towards him, closing the gap between the two of you.

“you can do better than that.” you commented on the volume of his voice which was quieter than his usual normal tone.

taking a deep breath, “i was looking forward to our call the whole day, it was all i could think about. and then you didn’t answer right away like you usually do, so even if a few minutes have passed, i was already getting impatient—“

he blabbered on until he was cut off by a pair of lips over his for a second. he blinked once, twice, and thrice. you let out a chuckle when you saw his face being shock over a single peck on the lips.

though that didn’t last long, jake made sure that you would be the one who was shocked now. “are you calling that a kiss?” there’s your boyfriend back into his senses.

the apartment was dimmed, but the two were igniting their own lights in the room, beating the small candle that was put on the kitchen counter.

— end. thank you for reading!

written by; @cinaerri ⋆ do not steal, plagiarize, or translate my work.

special tags.

@ikeubi

[tickle-bugs]

Cool Guy

Anon: Heya! If you're still doing them, could you make a tickle fic on Luke and Han but js Han getting Luke? I love the whole Luke being like Hans lil bro 😭 An idea being maybe Luke is embarrassing Han in front of Leia and Han gets him back, Leia maybe helping Han a bit? I like your fics a lot haha! It's alr if not ofc, js have a good day! :D &lt;3

Summary: Han is cool, suave, and absolutely irresistible. Luke vehemently disagrees.

Han knows logically that he cannot not squish the galaxy’s last hope like a bug. That would be unwise. There is, however, zero question of if he deserves it.

Luke is almost better at being a little shit than he is at being a Jedi.

“Princess!” Han leans against the wall. The Falcon’s internals hum behind it. Leia looks up at him blankly. 

“Pest.” She takes a bite of a sandwich. “What do you want?”

Nothing. Not a thing. He just loves the irritated curve of her eyebrow, the sharpness of her gaze, the curl of her lips--

“I’d love it if you’d stop taking what’s not yours.” He nods towards the sandwich. Leia regards it, then makes deep eye contact on her next bite. Han chuckles in something like disbelief, but he knows her. Knows how she likes to provoke. 

“Nice boys share their food.” She takes another bite.

“Well, I ain’t nice. Keep your thieving little hands to yourself.” Han considers wrapping up the sandwich, just to be petty, but he knows she hardly takes interest in his things unless she needs something. He could find something else to eat. 

“Or else what?” She plays with the crust of the bread. Eye contact. God, he loves this game of theirs. She leaves him breathless too often for his liking, though. As he flounders for a comeback, he hears a high-pitched noise from the other side of the room. 

Luke. Great. 

“What are you wearing?” Luke laughs incredulously. Han looks down at himself. He’d put on a fur vest today instead of his usual cargo one. It was something he’d snatched off some mook that’d tried to set him up with a dishonest deal. It’s old and it smells a little funny, but he likes it. It’s his now. 

“Wh—it’s a vest. It’s cold.” Han frowns. 

“You look like Chewie shed on you.” Luke leans his hip against the doorway as he settles in to mock. There’s a Wookiee outcry of indignation from the cockpit that goes unanswered.

“It’s a fashion statement.” Han adjusts his posture, gives them a new angle. Luke snorts. Han scowls.

“What exactly are you stating?” Leia rests her chin in her hands. She’s got a crumb on her cheek. He does not think about brushing it away. 

“You’re both terrible.” Han stomps off to change. 

“Right back atcha!” Leia calls after him. Her laughter is sweet, even at his expense. 

….

Run-ins with Empire patrols always put Han on a fine edge--he’s a well-oiled machine with Chewie at his back, but recent additions to the Falcon have proven…distracting. As he slams them into a hyperspace jump, the twins’ noise somehow drowns out the noise of the engine. Leia’s complaining that he took too many risks, Luke’s insisting he took too little, and Han’s half tempted to spin send the Falcon into a barrel roll just to hear a different sound.

Chewie won’t let him. The honorable bastard.

The moment they finish the jump, Han swivels out of his chair and goes…well, he’s not sure where he’s going, but he knows he needs to see and hear something besides Luke crunching angrily on crackers. 

Leia follows on Han’s heels, Luke follows on hers, and Han considers just ejecting himself from the airlock and being done with it. 

“If you want to die, be my guest, but don’t put us at risk for your ego.” Leia smacks his chest. Han can’t tell if he’s imagining the lingering touch of her fingers. 

“No, you’d miss me too much.” He fires back, pulling out of her grasp. He takes long strides, taking a petty sort of joy in hearing significantly shorter legs scramble after him. 

“Not a chance in hell,” Leia snarls, snatching the back of his vest. He whirls around. 

“Yes, you would, because things are boring without me. You like having me around.” He leans into her space. She stands her ground. 

“The fate of the galaxy is boring?” She conveniently ignores that last part. Han doesn’t miss it. 

“It is without me. Face it, princess. You’re attached.” He puts his hands on his hips. Leia’s face turns an interesting color.

“Ha! See? Attached!” Han points triumphantly. Leia smacks his hand away. 

“I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t need to. The truth’s all over your face.” He circles that pointer finger in her face. She smacks it hard enough to bruise this time. 

“The truth that I can’t stand you, more like. You’re arrogant, reckless, irresponsible—“

“And exactly your type.” Han grins. “You like having me around. Meanwhile, I’m cool, casual, and unattached.” Han clicks his tongue. Leia attempts to burn a hole through his forehead with her gaze. He worries for a moment that she might. 

“Really?” Luke crunches loudly. “I heard you telling Chewie that you like having us around. That you wouldn’t know what you’d do without us. Didn’t sound very cool and casual.” 

“I was drunk.” Han’s face burns. Leia snorts. Han scowls. 

“Drunk mind, sober thoughts.” Luke grins teasingly, waving a chip in his face. Han tries to snatch the bag, but Luke twirls effortlessly out of the way. Damn Jedi. 

“Sounds like you’re attached, laser brain.” Leia circles her finger in his face, and Han wonders if turning himself in to the Empire might be better for his ego.

…

Han’s not sure when his game with Leia stopped being a game and started being this, but he’s not complaining. He’s made out in worse storage rooms than the ones on the Falcon. They’d started with fetching a rations restock, devolved into bickering, and, well…their arguments usually end in violence or the threat of it, so Leia trying to climb him like a tree is a much-welcomed departure from form.

Normally Han’s great at keeping his emotions in a cold, dark little box where he never has to deal with them, but Leia looked so pretty yelling at him that he just…had to kiss her. He knew at that moment he’d die if he didn’t. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed and he hopes it won’t be the last, but each touch with Leia is like drifting closer to the beautiful terror of the sun. The best part, the overwhelming part, is that she wants him too. 

All of that would’ve been well and good, great even, if Luke hadn’t been standing in the doorway. 

Luke and Leia have some kind of stare-off that Han suspects involves their twinness--there’s lots of flustered, offended noises without words being uttered. Luke raises his eyebrow in a way that really seems to get to Leia, because she splutters, which she expressly does not do. 

“Don’t you start! I tolerate him!” She glares at Luke, her cheeks turning red. 

“Aww.” Han smirks. She elbows him in the ribs.

“With your mouth?” Luke’s near hysterical. 

“Among other things.” Han smirks wider. Luke’s face twists in sheer disgust. 

“Shut up,” Leia hisses, blushing and hitting him harder. He grins.

Luke levels a finger at Han, a habit he picked up from him in the first place, and then stalks off. 

“Chances he knifes me in my sleep?” 

“Lower than me doing it myself.” Leia swats his arm once more for good measure, but she’s still glowing, and Han thinks he might want to see that smile of hers for the rest of his life.

“I’ll take those odds.” 

The difference between Luke and his sister, in Han’s opinion, is that Luke’s noise goes inwards. Leia will scream at Han until she’s red in the face and then she’ll miraculously find more air. Luke gets quiet and vengeful, which is why Han starts to suspect foul play the third time he trips over thin air. 

Han really wants to fight back, but every time he opens his mouth, Leia’s lurking around some dark corner. 

On hour three of Luke’s temper tantrum, Han’s eye begins to twitch. He’s probably bruised every inch of his shins by now, he’s tired, and he thinks if he can close his eyes for an hour he might remember how to function. Just a sweet, Skywalkerless hour. 

Han drags his hand over his face as he walks off to his cabin. He finds Luke standing in the hall like an omen. He doesn’t move when Han approaches. The little furrow in his brow is probably meant to be intimidating, and maybe one day it will be, but Han can’t bring himself to care. 

The desire to lay down overcomes his rational thought, and he does to Luke what he often does to Leia: jams his hands under Luke’s arms and lifts him out of the way.

Except, unlike Leia, Luke doesn’t try to kick him. He lets out a giggle at a pitch Han didn’t know he was capable of. 

Han pauses, raising an eyebrow at the rapidly-reddening Jedi in his arms. He twitches his fingers. Luke chokes out a surprised laugh. 

Han’s suddenly not tired anymore. Funny, that. 

“Han, don’t you dare, c’mon--”

Han sets Luke down but doesn’t release him--he viciously wiggles his fingers where they’re trapped under Luke’s arms. He goes down like a sack of droid components, filling the Falcon with bright, bouncy laughter it so desperately needs. 

“You get a minute for every bruise, and my shins are looking mighty purple.” Han whistles lowly, pressing into the gaps between Luke’s ribs. Luke lets out a giggly hiccup and kicks his legs. 

“That’s not f-fair!” Luke clutches Han’s arms desperately. Han twitches his fingers and he curls up, shaking his head. Han distantly wonders when Luke last laughed like this. If he ever has. 

“Yeah? Tell me about it. Pick on someone your own size and maybe life will be fairer.” Han tries to keep his stare blank, but his mouth quirks up at the corners. Luke lets out an indignant gasp, but he quickly tumbles right back down into laughter.

“Let go,” Luke growls, his whole face scrunching around his smile. 

“Kid, I can’t let you go if you’ve got my hands.” Han gives a dramatic tug. He stops, raising his eyebrow expectantly. Luke pouts--pouts!--at him and lifts his arms at glacial pace. Han pulls away…

…and goes right for Luke’s exposed stomach. His shout of betrayal mixes beautifully with his laughter.

“Rookie mistake,” Leia tuts, snickering at Luke’s misfortune. Han jumps at her appearance--man, he should put a bell on these two--and Luke takes that as a signal to start wriggling away. Han reels him back in with a hearty laugh.

“Leia, fetch your--” Han cuts Luke off with a squeeze to the side before he can say anything embarrassing. 

“You gonna help, Your Worship? Or are you above getting your hands dirty?” Han casts a glance at Leia. 

“Never.” Leia smirks, kneeling beside Luke. They stare at each other for a long, tense while. Leia’s gaze drifts over him the same way she sifts through a plan for holes, until she stops at his knees. 

Luke’s eyes widen. Leia grins.

She latches on like a viper and Luke squeals, drumming his feet on the ground. He throws his head back and cackles himself into silence, flopping around uselessly. 

“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Han chuckles, a little nervous.

“You’re notoriously bad at it,” she smirks. Han swears he feels the ghost of her fingers on his own legs. He shudders.

Luke’s surrender is less of a cry and more of a wheeze, but they let him go quickly all the same. He tosses his arm over his glowing face with a great, heaving sigh.

“You alright over there?” Han chuckles, nudging Luke’s boot. He lifts his arm to glare.

“I hate you.”

“I know.” Han pats his ankle. Luke kicks him. Han squeezes his knee and he immediately blurts out a tired, giggly apology. 

“Stop being a little shit and trying to trip me up. It’s not gonna work. Too cool for that.” Han pats Luke’s stomach. 

Warm hands wrap around his waist and he leans back, scaring himself with how easily he fits into Leia’s arms. She hooks her chin over his shoulder.

“Are you ready?” She murmurs, brushing her fingers over the fabric of his shirt. 

“Ready for what?” His hand finds hers. He’s more than ready, if he’s reading this right. She’s rarely like this beyond closed doors, and it sends a thrill through him. Her lips brushing his ear drives him just a little crazy. He starts to stand, but she pulls him back down. 

“To be tripped up.” She smirks. He feels it. 

“Wh—“ 

Leia’s fingers dig in with deadly accuracy. Han crumples and his bravado goes with him. Loud, hearty laughter bursts from him as he slides to the floor, boneless in her arms.

“Aw, look at you cool guy.” Luke sidles up next to him with a shit eating grin. He tickles mockingly under Han’s chin and he, mortifyingly, giggles. Luke chases the sound, having way too much fun for Han’s liking. 

Han growls and tries to kick him. Leia’s fingers find his hips—cruel and unusual—and he’s toast. He resigns himself to die in her lap, which isn’t the overall worst way to go, and makes a mental note to write Luke out of his will. 

As long as Chewie thinks he’s cool, he supposes it’s still a net win. 

[elsfairy]

So uh, you got any headcannons on Sevika sucking reader's tits?? Like, not even in a sexual/erotic way. I meant like, sucking the nipples just because; aside from her being obviously obsessed their tits, it kinda relaxes both of them to have this kind of moment and the overall intimacy of ducking her head under reader's shirt to have skin to skin contact with said tits seals the deal. Maybe Vika having cute aggression and leaving bite marks on the boob's skin??

Bro, i would ascend if that were me. Also, kinda out of it cuz of sleep deprivation, so if anything sounds weird, ignore it lmaoo😂😂😂🩷

I absolutely love your writing, love how you treat the wholesome, relationship intimacy outside of the sexual aspect. You're the reason my standards are this high😌💅🏻

───── DEVOTED

I think it would be something that came a little later into your relationship with Sevika. Maybe a few months before she randomly starts to start her small habit.

Would probably try doing it discreetly at the start, although I don't think her sucking your tits discreetly is ever going to work, but she tries her best, poor soul.

At first, you didn't really think much of it. You were used to the random things she would do, just sometimes you couldn't quite expect what she was going to do next.

It happened once when she got home from work, all stressed and tired. She had missed you the whole day, and without you near, made her miss you even more.

You're very used to her just randomly undressing you for bed, but it was slightly weird for her to not do that, and instead just shoves her head under your shirt the minute she climbs into the bed with you.

"Vika, what are you doing baby?"

"Nothing, just missed you today"

Always gentle with you, never being too rough but also won't do it to just tease you. It was a way of comfort and she wanted you to just relax, and be comfortable.

Loves to massage your hips whenever she leaves soft, gentle kisses on your tits. they were light, but she put her all into giving you the love and affection you deserve.

Has a habit of biting your nipple hard the first time. Which always ends up with you slapping her head, but she just chuckles and soothes the pain with her tongue, every time she did it.

Can always find previous bite marks and hickeys left on your boobs from a week ago, she enjoyed your tits a little too much but you didn't mind.

Will 100% retrace said marks just so you will remember them whenever she's working or not at home.

If her mouth is occupied with one tit, then of course her hand is already occupied with the other, pinching your nipple carefully. Never leave one alone, they both deserve attention, at the same time.

Enjoyed the small hums and gasps that left your lips, and how you moved around to get more comfortable.

Your hands always find their way into her hair, pulling and tugging.

Sevika's messy most of the time, but moments like these? She takes her time, she doesn't want to rush anything purely because she loves to see and feel your body relax under her touch, her kisses against the swell of your tits.

Might be a little obsessed with sucking your nipples. She's in love with them honestly, she's too far gone to stop.

Adores the way you blush whenever she slowly flicks your nipple with her tongue and the way you shudder, gripping just a little harder onto her hair.

Don't be fooled, she's probably resting her face right on your tits for a while before she even gets to work on them. They were soft and comfortable to her.

"How many this time?"

"An extra 4. Your tits look pretty with my marks"

Admires every mark she's made that night, squeezing your breast just lightly. She knew they were sensitive most of the time.

Believe it or not but she's always got fucking spit running down her chin when she looks up at you, grinning.

"Hi, Sweetheart"

"Hi, baby"

this will probably sound insane but, that shit relaxes the fuck outta me, like it fr doesn't even have to be something sexual, it can just bring a couple closer together. Or the mere contact of them together, it's fucking helpful and comforting, especially if you're stressed.

Thank you for reading my work and for your kind words, it means a lot to me, baby ♡ sorry this took so long :(

[steddiealltheway]

Part Five of Alone Together :))))) Part One. Part Four. AO3 Link.

Steve looks around his living room, fully decked out in holiday decorations because the kids insisted that just the tree wasn’t enough. He doesn’t know where they got the energy from. Probably the leftover sugar cookies.  

He wanders around, giving the bottom of the catwalk a wide berth where someone had slyly tied up mistletoe. Sometimes he really hates love – or rather the PDA that comes with love. Maybe he’s just lonely.   

Or maybe he’s jealous because everyone has the real thing while he has... a pact. A pact that can’t be spoken about or else it might destroy the whole situation. And Steve would rather be alone together rather than alone and heartbroken. Plus, he can’t ruin everyone else’s fun if him and Eddie suddenly get extremely awkward around each other.  

But Steve knows that things are better when they’re fake even when they seem real. Because he always disappoints when it comes to the real deal.  

Steve finds himself back on his couch, noting how it feels too big and cold. He misses Eddie. It’s crazy because he’s seen him nonstop for days now, but he can’t help it.   

The doorbell rings.  

Steve springs up and sprints towards the door flinging it open. “Hey Ed-”  

Robin raises her eyebrows. “Definitely not Eddie.” Steve sighs. “Hey now, I thought I was your best friend! Don’t look too disappointed to see me,” Robin says stepping past Steve and into the house.  

“Sorry. And hey, I distinctly remember you complaining for months whenever I showed up at your house instead of Nancy. Speaking of, where is she? I thought you two and all the other couples were inseparable,” Steve jokes but it comes out a little too serious.  

Robin sighs and holds out a tub of ice cream Steve didn’t realize she had carried in. “I thought we could hang out like old times. Ice cream for dinner. Got your Scoops uniform around here?” Robin jokes.  

“God, no,” Steve lies. It’s in his closet with some dried blood caked into the collar still, but for some reason he can’t throw it away. The memories with Robin seem to trump the Russians, but that’s probably because of the truth serum and likely concussion.  

He realizes Robin is still standing there with ice cream in her bare hands. Steve takes the ice cream and makes his way to the kitchen digging in his drawers for two spoons. “Where are your gloves? It’s freezing outside.”  

“I forgot them in Nancy’s car, but it’s not like I’m planning on going outside today.” Steve nods and takes a stab into the ice cream. “So,” Robin says in the tone that means she’s about to pry about something, “you and Eddie.”  

Steve shovels a large scoop of ice cream into his mouth to try to get out of answering that for a few moments longer. He shrugs as the ice cream melts, but Robin continues to stare, not letting him out of this one. “We, uh, made a pact. With all the couples being all...” Steve cringes realizing Robin is included in the bunch, but he continues, “Well, it was hard to enjoy all the holiday stuff, so I told Eddie about it. He suggested that instead we should pair up – single together or a promised holiday date.”  

Robin continues to stare at him as if she’s expecting more. “That’s it?” she questions.  

“Yeah,” Steve says avoiding eye contact as he digs for more ice cream.  

“Bullshit.”  

Steve looks up at his best friend and sees the determination in her gaze. “Okay, fine. Maybe I have feelings for him or something. But that’s probably just all the holiday spirit stuff! And who knows if he likes me, too. You know how flirtatious he is, and he loves to play a part – that’s why he loves D&D so much, you know?”  

Robin rests her spoon on her bottom lip and seems to consider what he said. “Well, he’s playing the part really well. Come on, he’s liked you since you ripped that damn bat apart. Need I remind you of the ‘big boy’ comment?”  

Steve’s cheeks flush as he recalls the exact moment that made him question his whole sexuality. He had talked to Robin after everyone was sure that Vecna was dead, and she had been really cool about it – after she had screamed about how she knew it. He had gotten over the crisis pretty quickly and thought not too much of it. Steve Harrington liked girls and boys and that was that.   

Of course, it was easier to date girls because it was Hawkins, and there were only a handful of people who weren’t straight. That is until his entire friend group had started to come out. Being so close to death kind of makes things like that seem less consequential. But Steve knows that he’s lucky to have such a supportive network of people. So, he had started to look at boys more, but weirdly enough it seemed like he only had eyes for Eddie.  

“Thoroughly reminded, thanks,” Steve says breaking out of his memories. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I just think for now it’s easier testing the waters. I’ll talk to him eventually once all the holiday hanging out dies down or something. I just don’t want to jinx anything and make the group feel like they have to tiptoe around the two of us if it goes wrong.”  

“You realize that all of us toe that line already with the risk of accidentally breaking up the group if we break up, right? Don’t you think it’ll be better to know it’s all real than to find out it was one sided and get your heart broken in the process?” Robin questions offering up a really good point that Steve just can’t listen to at the moment.  

“I’d rather have him this way than not at all,” Steve replies.  

Robin’s expression turns sympathetic, and Steve really doesn’t want to be pitied right now. Luckily, his phone rings before Robin can say anything.  

Steve answers it quickly, “Harrington residence.”  

“Steve, look outside! It’s snowing! Get your ass over to the Wheeler’s right now! I have to call Eddie next, bye!” Dustin yells into the phone.  

“You heard all that from there, right?” Steve asks Robin.  

“Yep,” she says popping the ‘p.’  

“Come on, let’s get you some gloves and warmer clothes. I guess we’re going outside after all.”  

-:-:-:-:-:-

The snow is falling harder than he imagined it would and is sticking to the ground as he pulls into the Wheeler’s driveway and parks behind Eddie’s van. His heart pounds, and he hesitates to get out of the car.   

“You ready?” Robin asks him, gloved hand resting on top of his.  

Steve gives her a tight smile and nods. He climbs out of his car only to immediately get pelted with something. Then again. And again. He brushes the snow off his coat and yells, “I still have the nail bat in my trunk!”  

The kids jump out from behind Eddie’s van with their hands up. “It’s just snowballs!” Max yells. One of Eleven’s hands drop to wipe her nose.  

Steve rolls his eyes. “Snowballs being thrown with El’s powers are not just snowballs.”  

El guiltily smiles at him. Eddie’s head pops out from behind the van as he questions, “Nail bat?”  

Robin comes up from where she was hiding behind Steve’s car. “Oh, you still have a lot to catch up on, but Steve will fill you in on it inside.” Steve feels her push him forward, but instead of walking forward he stops and bends down.   

“I’ll fill him in later, but for now...” Steve quickly scoops up a snowball and throws it towards the group. It hovers in the air right before it reaches Max. Steve nods and looks at El, “Redirect that towards Dustin, would you?”  

“You asshole- Oof!” Dustin takes a moment to brush the snow off his face and hair before looking angrily at Steve. “Oh, it’s on!”   

“El no powers!” Steve yells as he hurries to make another snowball.   

A huge snowball fight breaks out across the Wheeler’s front yard. At first, it’s a free for all, but slowly, all the couples begin to team up. Except El and Eddie who seemingly disappear. It becomes very apparent which person in the couples are using the other as a human shield – Max, Mike, Robin, Jonathan, and Dustin.  

Steve thinks he’s doing pretty well on his own, until he sees the snowball Lucas has just thrown coming directly at him. He braces himself, but the snowball never comes.   

“Oof! Shit!” Steve opens his eyes to find Eddie on the ground in front of him. He gives him a pained smile.   

“What are you doing?” Steve says with a laugh.  

“Making sure you don’t get reconcussed. Lucas has a strong arm,” Eddie comments rubbing at his chest. Steve looks around before he lays next to Eddie on the ground. “What are you doing?” Eddie asks, looking towards him.  

“Making a snow angel,” Steve says, doing exactly that. He feels ridiculous and likely looks so too, but this doesn’t stop Eddie from joining him. Steve laughs as Eddie simultaneously attempts to catch snowflakes in his mouth.  

“Ready to look at the masterpieces?” Steve asks propping himself up on his elbows.  

“Always,” Eddie says, hopping up to his feet and helping Steve up. They turn and look down. They’re… something. The wings are a bit overlapped in the middle, and Steve is sure they both could’ve spent a few more minutes on them but... “They’re perfect,” Eddie says with a toothy grin.  

“I couldn’t agree more,” Steve replies, smile equally as big. He takes a glance around and finds all the others joining in to make snow angels. He turns back to find Eddie messing with the heads of their angels. “What are you doing?”  

Eddie looks over his shoulder and says, “You’ll see.” A few seconds later he stands up and steps back. “What do you think?”  

Steve takes in the additions – devil horns on Eddie’s and a halo over Steve’s. He snorts and rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder. “I love it.”  

“I love y-” Eddie chokes back what he was going to say. Steve’s heart races. He’s going to eventually go into cardiac arrest over this boy.  

He’s about to turn to ask him if he was saying what he thought when there’s a shout from the Wheeler’s front door, “Hot chocolate is ready!” Karen shouts out. The kids all rush towards the door, stomping the snow off their shoes and brushing it off their jackets.  

Steve takes a careful step away from Eddie and follows the other inside. He wants more than anything to hold Eddie’s hand while he goes inside, but he’s not sure how Karen and Ted would react. And he really doesn’t need his parents hearing and coming home early.  

While everyone drinks cocoa, Steve notices Eddie steadily avoiding eye contact with him, choosing to distance himself as far as he can. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes like it did before, and Steve needs to talk to him.  

Karen approaches the group announcing, “Okay, everyone, you’re spending the night here. I don’t want anyone driving on those roads. Boys and girls will obviously be in separate rooms. You guys can work out who will be in what room. The living room and basement along with the guest bedroom are all free.”  

Everyone hides their smiles behind the rims of their mug. Lucas assures Dustin that they’ll hang out while El and Max tell Suzie how excited they are to have a sleepover together.  

“Will and I will get my room,” Mike says immediately.  

Karen peaks her head around the corner and asks, “Lucas and Dustin, too?”  

Steve and Eddie make eye contact and Eddie has to bite down on his lip to not laugh while Mike stutters but finally gives in. Eddie seems to remember that he was avoiding Steve’s gaze and looks away again.  

“Robin can take my room,” Nancy says with a small smile.  

“Jonathan and I will get that living room as long as I get that comfy looking chair,”  

“Can we get the guest bedroom?” El asks, gesturing towards her, Max, and Suzie. Everyone agrees.  

Steve looks towards Eddie who stares into his mug. “I guess Eddie and I will get the basement.”  

“I have extra pajamas for the girls,” Nancy says standing up and shooting Mike a look.  

Mike rolls his eyes. “I’ll get some extra pajamas for the guys.”  

“I’ll sleep in my clothes, man. They’re comfy,” Argyle says looking down at his sweats that are somehow not wet from the snow.  

“I have extra clothes in my car,” Steve offers.  

“Why do you have extra clothes in your car?” Max questions.  

Shit. How does he explain that he sometimes sleeps in his car when his parents are home?  

“Gym clothes?” Eddie gives Steve an easy out.  

“Yeah, gym clothes and whenever I want to change out of work clothes,” Steve lies. Everyone takes the answer and makes their way to their rooms.  

Steve grabs the clothes from his car, finding two sweatshirts, three t-shirts, and three pairs of sweatpants for him, Eddie, and Jonathan. He offers the clothes to Jonathan first who thanks him, then Steve heads down to the basement.  

Eddie is awkwardly curled up in a chair, pretending to be comfortable. Steve holds out the stack of clothes to him then heads to the bathroom. Once he’s out and changed, Eddie goes next. Steve gathers up a few blankets and quilts from the corner and makes himself comfortable on the couch.  

Eddie exits the bathroom and heads toward the chair again.  

“Eddie, wait,” Steve requests. Eddie freezes in front of the chair and glances towards Steve. “Are you okay?”  

“Yeah,” Eddie says. The tightness in his tone gives away the lie.  

“Okay enough to join me?” Steve asks, lifting up the blankets. Eddie stares at him for a moment then makes his way over to the couch. It’s a tighter squeeze this time since the couch is way smaller, but Eddie still chooses to face Steve.  

Steve can’t help but tuck a curl behind Eddie ear. “You look good in my clothes.”  

“Yeah?” Eddie asks with a soft chuckle.  

“Yeah.” Steve leans forward and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “Goodnight, Eddie.”  

“Goodnight, Steve. Can we leave the light on?”  

“Of course.”  

Steve wants more than anything to take advantage of this moment alone, but he isn’t going to make a move when Eddie is obviously feeling off. Instead, he reaches down and tangles their fingers together. Eddie squeezes his hand and closes his eyes.  

Steve drifts off thinking that this all feels pretty damn real, so continuing the avoid this talk can do no harm. But he dreams of it all blowing up in their faces.  

Part Six.

Tag List :)))

@eddiesbabe95 @hagbaby420 @grtwdsmwhr @mightbeasleep @saramelaniemoon @bidisastersworld @spectrum-spectre @henderdads @wrenisflying

[midnightmah07]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬 (angst to sisterly moment between Daisy and Anneliese, why not?)

In Daisy's perspective, Anneliese was an interesting individual. Meanwhile people like Rook would constantly bash out generous comments on how kind-hearted, was the red-headed gal, even Trey would say Daisy failed to see that side of their view. habitually folded her arms, casting irritated glances at Daisy and even mean to rude comments during the whole VDC group preparation; at a certain point, the blonde would feel hurt by such attitude.

Asking for her friends help they all came into the conclusion, "You need to talk with her, Daisy." Initially, it appeared simple, but unfortunately, it turned out to be the opposite. Everytime Daisy attempted to engage Anneliese in conversation, Anneliese promptly withdrew, as if Daisy's presence beside her was a burden or just an annoying aura in general, something of the sort.

"I can't believe it! You still haven't talk to her, perfect?" Exclaimed Ace. "Are you a wimp or what?"

"Don't talk to henchuman like that!"

He throws his hands to the air flabbergasted or even disappointed by Daisy's coward attitude. Sure, she fought overblots as if it was no big deal. However, when faced with the need to confront something that has been troubling her, Daisy finds herself hesitant to take action, backing away instead. Chicken out! Like the Adeuce duo said.

"Calm down, Ace and Grim," Deuce says pulling his friend back to the sit. Last thing being heard was Grim's huff. "Daisy, you only have the obligation to confront her because is something that has been bothering you. If it wasn't you could-"

Deuce falls silent, his voice tapering into a whisper, leaving a palpable silence lingering in the cafteria, the same expression on Ace's face with lips parted, confusion and eyes winded. Both Daisy and Grim turn to see what was behind their backs; Ruggie was there, with his hand on the shoulder of no one else no one other than Anneliese. Who would look at the floor, avoiding eye contact.

"I think there's someone who needs to talk to you, Daisy." Said Ruggie, his expression serious at a point it was kinda scary to others at the table.

Daisy rises to her feet with a sweat drop falling off her forehead.  The small cat-like Grim stands up to follow Daisy, but Anneliese steps in front of him, blocking his path.

"Alone."

Anneliese nods toward Daisy, silently signaling for her to follow, which the blonde instantly does so, without questioning too much. Even with the awkward silence, Daisy kept quiet until Anneliese stops at a quiet hall, Ace and Deuce lead Daisy to a secluded spot, a quiet sanctuary away from the bustle where few people venture. Anneliese takes a deep breath still not looking into the shorter one's face, but when she releases the sigh she says.

"I am... So sorry." Daisy stayed silent as the Trahine sister began to apologize. She turns to Daisy, eye full with tears. "It may sound impossible to forgive me, I would say... Specially with the way I treated you all this days." Anneliese hand was placed in her heart. "I was childish. I must admit. And I could only see it when I was called out."

The silence falls gently between them both, Daisy could say she was surprise by such a heartfelt apology. Sounded quite genuine. Maybe she would finally able to see the side Rook would always talk about with her for once in Anneliese. Specially if she could the girl to open up.

"But," Daisy finally was able to speak, as Anneliese teared up. "Why did you do it?"

"Couldn't you see? I was jealous."

Daisy eyes winded in shock. "Jealous?" Gasped Daisy confused, stunned. "Jealous of what, if you mind me asking?"

Anneliese chuckled softly, uncertain whether Daisy was simply pretending to be innocent or if she truly was that way.

"My mother always told me that looks count for everything. And you are just so..." Anneliese starts to fidget with her fingers. "You are beautiful, Daisy. And I envy you for it."

That's how the hard shell of Anneliese broke and shattered into pieces. Daisy understands why now Anneliese felt jealous this whole time; it seems like she's spent her entire life believing that beauty is the most important thing. However, Daisy knows all too well that true value goes beyond mere appearance.

"Look at me, if I weren't so clumsy and plain... I don't know, maybe I wouldn't had treated you that badly." She cleans her tears with the sleeve of her jacket.

"Oh, Anneliese," Daisy puts a hand in the girl's shoulder. "You are beautiful as well."

"You are just saying that." Anneliese says with a sad smile looking to the floor.

"I am truly speaking the truth." Daisy pouted, wearing a look of pity on her face. It was as if all the mirrors Anneliese had ever gazed into were shattered, preventing her from ever truly seeing her own reflection. "I meant it, so I will repeat it. You are beautiful, Anneliese."

The tears stopped to fall from Anne's cheek as she looks to meet Daisy's gaze.

"I am sorry. You are so kind, even though I've treated you-"

"-You don't need to worry about it." After all, all that Daisy worried was that she did something that offended Anneliese. She was glad to see that Rook and Trey after all were right about Anneliese, guess never judge a book by it's cover could be set in multiple occasions. "Now, I mean... If you need someone to eventually or in the future to talk to. I will be here." Offered kindly Daisy.

Anne smiles cleaning the tears again. "I will be saying the same." She extends her other hand offering a hand shake.

Which Daisy gladly took it, shaking the hand of the ginger girl.

"Also, may I ask you something?"

"I don't see why not-"

"-Are you and Rook a thing or...?"

There was a silence.

"Ew." Said Anne.

dividers by fairytopea

JSHDJDJDJJSIDJDIDJDJJXIDJWODIXJJDS THIS IS SOOOOOODIEJEKDJX!"9_+_(3!$9$+_+3!$9"+$;32($+ AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S SO SWEET???? AND CUTE??? AND REAL????

I JUST– *EXPLODES*

I love that Ruggie was the one to bring Anneliese to her so they could talk, my man is not letting ANYONE mistreat his girl not on his watch😤 but also they're talk is so sincere and so cute😭 it's funny too!! Considering Daisy herself has image issues because her stepmother always told her she was ugly! So I feel like they can resonate in that, and Daisy would 100% mean it when she says Anneliese is beautiful 🥺

Also that small tidbit of Grim defending Daisy..m they're so :(( I love them, this made me so soft I'm gonna cry

[ebaylee422]

Back to the Beginning Newby

Billy Hargrove X Newby!Reader

Author’s Note: I just love my Newby!Reader X Billy stuff in my drafts but it’s a very sad storyline so here’s a fluffy first meeting etc. Enjoy!

Word Count

Sitting at the counter by yourself poking at the pancakes I ordered, Melody comes over to fill the cup of coffee.

“Don’t be so upset babycakes, he’s the one missing out. Besides, you have your whole life to be mad, angry, or sad about things like men.”

“I know, I’m just upset because he didn’t even try to cancel or contact me. Which is honestly a dick move, I’d rather him come and then be like ‘maybe we should just be friends.’ Or ‘I actually don’t want to go out with you.’ Instead I’m left wondering if he’s dead or under some slut.” Melody looked at the front door chime, her eyes blowing wide. I furrowed my brow at her change when a man came in. Sitting a single seat away to my right at the counter.

“Well keep nursing those pancakes baby, I’ll be right back.” She set the coffee pot down, taking my long discarded menu to the man I didn’t recognize. He couldn’t be much older, wearing brown leather with an orange button down tucked into his way too tight jeans. They showed off all of his ass- assets, he had a fluffy head of dirty blonde curls in a mullet style. His pants were cuffed at the bottom to show off his laced up pristine vans. He gave Melody an irresistible smile, the earring in his left ear swaying when he motioned to me. Winking at her, Melody left to put his order on the cook line. When he chuckled I realized I was completely staring and tried to find something to occupy my gaze. I turned to the cup of coffee Melody just poured, bringing it up to my lips while also burning my tongue in the process of said sip.

“Let me guess you had a pretty shit day too?” the guy asked, pointing to the various untouched items Melody kept bringing to cheer me up.

“Yeah. I’ve definitely had worse though. You?”

“Oh yeah, you mind?” he pointed to the clean coffee cup in front of my seat, I shook my head. And he slid into the seat directly next to me reaching to pour himself a cup of coffee. Using his left hand he just barely knocked into my elbow resting on the counter.

“What was yours?” I asked abruptly, his eyebrow raised in an unasked question. “Sorry, I mean why was yours such a shit day?” I stuttered looking forward behind the counter, caressing the warm ceramic of the coffee mug.

“Well let’s see. I have an asshole Dad.” He rose his pointer finger

“With an neglectful borderline alcoholic Step-Mother who moved us here to be closer to stupid relatives.” Raising his middle finger to accompany, “Her bratty daughter who I’m responsible for. So kinda a neat little package of bullshit.”

“Hmm, can’t relate. Mine’s just guy trouble, which is laughable I know. Where’d you move from?” I turned to see his face, taking in each detail. There was slight discoloration on the left side of his face, his dark lashes were a heightened contrast to the beautiful rich blue of his irises. A clump of loose curls cascaded on his forehead, moving with as much grace as the earring.

“California, yeah I can’t relate to guy troubles.” He laughed while sipping his coffee, the heat of the liquid on his plump lips made the skin redder with each sip.

“Well you got Daddy issues, Mother still in the picture?” I asked brashly, his jaw clenched as he sigh through his nose.

“No, I don’t really like to talk about her actually. Ever.” he said with a familiar discomfort, I’d grown to know all too well.

“Now that I can relate to, when my mom passed away it’s like she never existed. Wiped clean from this earth from her friends and nonexistent extended family.”  

“Hmm, well mine just decided to leave me one day. No responsibility to harbor a free life, away from being a Hargrove.”

“Leaving you to deal with your asshole of a father? That’s a shit deal.”

“Yeah tell me about it,” Melody came with a plate of pancakes and silverware, setting it down in front of him. His shoulders relaxed when he spoke, “Thank you-, Melody.” he squinted taking in the name tag, and she nodded back smiling appreciatively. Taking a cold plate away from my mountain of food, she made distinctive eye contact and winked. Darting her eyes back and forth to the space unoccupied between me and the stranger. She turned around, switching our nearly empty pot of coffee with a fresh one. Then going around to bus tables the diner, it was getting pretty late. We were two of the only stragglers left. “Better me I guess, than Susan or Max. It’s not okay to beat women just because you have a dick between your legs.” I choked slightly on my swallow of coffee, looking at him in horror.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t notice with all that staring you were doing when I first sat down.” Turning to face his body towards me, he pointed to a small cut on his lip as well as the slight discoloration high on his cheekbone, the same side.

“People have accidents everyday, it’s not fair to assume…” Unsure if its proper to ask about how it happened, I asked a slightly different question. “Susan and Max? The Neglectful and The Brat?” he nodded yes, with a bite of pancakes in his mouth. His teeth were pearly white, laying straight in his mouth when he’d open wide for a new mouth full of late night pancakes.

“Yes, and the guy? Or guys, plural if you’re that type of lady.” He elbow knocked into mine as he ate, he was left handed.

“Tyler Carver, graduated last year golden boy from a family of accomplished athletes. Told me to meet him at an Indiana Jones showing tonight, never showed up. So I came here and got my own dinner. Honestly the better option I suppose. I’ve also never been that lady.”

“Well I can’t imagine why the asshole would ditch you, we’re holding such an enriching conversation. He’s losing out on a smart and beautiful date.”

“This is embarrassing but it was actually going to be my first date, like ever. That isn’t some weird force proximity thing.” I laugh nervously pushing the half eaten plate and cup away, shaking my head. My head is still reeling from being ditched, embarrassed and played by a complete stranger.

“Well Doll, you could count this if you’d like. Plus no one is an accomplished athlete if they are settled in no where Indiana.” he smirked, eye lighting up as he finished the contents of his plate. Tossing the fork in the center and placing it under mine.

“I don’t even know your name. You could be ‘the night stalker’ for all I know, California. Especially since Hawkins is small and I’ve met everyone at least once.”

“It adds to the suspense, Doll. But could I level with you?” I nod in agreement then tilt my head in a confused response. He leans in closer, brushing the hair off my shoulder to whisper at my ear. “If Tyler didn’t immediately notice the perfectly sculpted woman you are, that’s forever going to be his loss.” My breath hitches and he leaned back to maintain eye contact. “Besides, most of the time assholes like him. The only thing they want to do in a movie theater, isn’t really your speed I think.”

“What do you mean?” I asked naively, my nose brushing the side of his cheek.

“You know, a gorgeous girl. In a space with lots of noise, darkness and the thrill of getting caught.” Suddenly the realization hit suddenly like a ton of bricks, this must have been some weird orchestrated joke at my expense. I pulled back vigorously, shaking the tension from my frame, blush rising to color the tips of my ears. Covering my face with my hands, embarrassed at the possibility of what Tyler’s true intentions were.

“I’m so stupid. Some random dude I’ve known for like 30 minutes saw through the jerk before I could.”

“Yeah well, I sometimes am the jerk. It takes one to know one.”

“Well clearly I wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, but if I’m also being honest this interaction is more relaxing than even being around my acclaimed best friend.”

“You’ve been honest this whole time, and maybe you should find some new friends.” he huffed in a laugh, smiling at me again, “I’m sure there’s more potential here than just relaxing, huh?” motioning to himself, I tried to find the response in his eyes. They are a fountain of blue hues swimming to meet at the dark irises of his entrancing eyes. They stare into my most vulnerable parts, he’s not just looking, he’s studying. Mapping out each feature as I did, stopping their assault on my lips. Gaping as if they could disappear at any moment, leaning in closer to them like a moth to a flame. “Doll what do you say, we-” he asked, sliding his hand from his own thigh to lightly squeeze my knee.

“I don’t know your name…” I whisper, trying to find a voice within his proximity.  

“I’m sure you can come up with one, or more if you like.” He smiled, though his eyes never lost their contact with my lips.

“You're just a tease, but two must play for it to be a game. Do you have a favorite color?” I smirked. Gaining courage again, changing the subject not moving from his close proximity.

“Red or sometimes blue like my car.”

“I like green, my car is also blue. How funny.” I swallowed hard as he started to rub circles along my knee. I wonder how his hands would feel rubbing other places. Feeling the pit in my stomach grow as he watch every movement. Like a apex predator and the un-knowing prey. Knowing exactly how to dance and the effect he was having. His hand was rough, kindly calloused fingers nipping at the rip in my jeans.

“Color of envy, and jealousy makes sense.” I shoot your eyes back to look at his eyes, he ordained an all-knowing smirk. I’d been staring at his hand this time,

“And yours the colors of anger and sadness. Seems like a lonely combination.”

“It can be, but I just meet strange women in diners to pass the time.” I giggle at his remark,

“You think I’m strange? You’re going to have a lot of fun here in Hawkins I’m sure.”

“Do you wanna get outta here?” he cautiously moved his hand higher towards my thigh just grazing. It sent unfamiliar shivers rocketing through my system, I stopped his movements, causing him to jerk back while still touching our legs knocking against each other.

“I want to keep talking actually, I think we’re really getting somewhere. Besides, I’m really not that girl. I could introduce you to a few that are always hot and ready though if that’s all you're looking for tonight.” he hummed darkly in his throat. Leaning further, adjusting himself to move his legs around mine.

“No fun, what’s your favorite childhood memory?” he asked, pouting, I scoffed at the change of conversation almost mocking what I’d done earlier. Thinking about it for a moment trying to find it,

Trees were filled with snow, the sun from above made everything shine brightly. I was wrapped up in a hot amount of clothing, the only thing touching the brutal cold was the tip of a already frozen red nose. It had stopped snowing hours ago, coming up above waist height making it hard to walk through. Holding onto mom’s mitted hand, while Dad made himself busy shoveling the porch. She stopped in the middle of the yard letting go, scrunching a ball of snow in her hands hurling at Dad’s back. He gasped, turning in surprise, I giggled, grabbing my own balls of snow and throwing some wildly at both of them. Soon he caught us in his arms and leaned back, making as of us fall back into the pile of plush snow. Panting heavily, clouds started the soft snow up again and all of us were covered making a snowman. He posed us next to the porch before taking a single photo of mom. She was smiling hard enough for her eye to just be small squints, snow covered her hat and lashes melting dainty on her skin. Soon after we went inside by the fire, he made you all hot cocoa as the blizzard continued outside. She passed away after New Years, after a week of being in the E.R.

“The Grandparents moved to Maine after Dad refused to go with them, insisting I should grow up where him and mom did. Experience her life as much as possible, until I was old enough to make my own choices.” You explained this is Billy leaving out some of the more quiet realizations, he watched me recalled with amazement.

“What’s yours?” I asked him fondly,

“Well a few come to mind, first kiss. Some embarrassing ones like the first pimple or surprise boner.” I cringed at the last part making him laugh, throwing his head to the side. “No but um, my mom she would take me to the beach and let me surf. For hours I’d be out there, I’d fall asleep on the ride home from exhaustion. Wake up when she’d turn onto our street feeling a slight sunburn under my shirt, the tension wasn’t there until the drive home. The beach was our little escape into paradise…” he huffs,

"I thought you didn't talk about her?"

"Yeah, me too." stretching his arms up, yawning as he take a glance at his watch. We’d only been in the diner for two hours, but it was nearing midnight. The diner was open all hours, but there was slight guilt for still being here. Billy noticed the same thing, pulling out his wallet. "Think that should cover it?"

"No." He cocked his eyebrow."Sorry, no, as in 'No, I eat here for free', not no, "you don't have enough money' . "

"Here, I thought we were on a date? Now you're making ne look bad."

"Not as bad as Tyler."

"Bye cuties! Don't be strangers!"

"Thank you."

"Thank you for a genuinely nice dinner.”

“Thank you for the genuinely nice company, do you want me to walk you to your car?”

“I actually walked here, so I’ll just walk back home.”

“Nonsense, I’ll give you a ride. Where we headed?” He pulls his smokes and keys from his jacket pocket.

“No, it’s late. I’m sure you're tired from moving. I don’t mind-”

“Neither do I.” he started to walk towards a blue vehicle opening the passenger door, leaning against the back intently, almost beckoning me to challenge him at this point. I didn't. Instead of listening to the voice in the back of my head, screaming not to, I conceded to slipping into the leather passenger seat. He knelt down, leaning over slightly, and tucked my seatbelt until we both heard the click. His hands were dangerously close to my chest as he moved it over shoulder, straightening the belt.

“Trying to cop a feel, California?” i teased just above a whisper into the ear facing me, he chuckled darkly. Moving his lips to the side of my face,

“Not without permission, I like it when a woman begs for my touch across her skin.” He moved out the door and slammed it shut, I exhaled sharply, eyes blown up out of my skull as the butterflies fluttered throughout my closed eyes. He opened the driver's side and slammed his body down, shaking the car with his weight. “D’you mind?” he asked, taking a cigarette from the pack and placing it between his lips. I nodded in disagreement, the only response that would conger still near dizzy from his words early. He grinned and moved his hand to open the glove box, brushing against my leg as he took a lighter from it. Silver shiny square wrappers shone in the neon light of the diner catching my eyes as he closed it shut. The engine roared to life along with loud heavy metal music blasting from his player, he rolled down his window puffing out the smoke. Reversing out of the parking lot at remarkable speed. “Are you gonna tell me where you live or should I just take you to mine?” he laughed, stopping at the edge of the street.

“Turn left Hotshot,” I bit back, growing fond of his endless teasing. He wiped the car in the correct direction, head banging at his music. Turning it down enough he would be able to hear me over it as he parked in front of the house.

“Are you gonna go inside?”

“Yeah sorry, just thinking how to explain to my Dad why I’m stumbling in after midnight.”

“Don’t tell ’m anything, just waltz right into your room. It works for me.” I chuckled, facing him as I released the seatbelt.

“Thanks again, here.” I dug through my bag grabbing some spare cash from my wallet, holding it out for him. “Gas money, I live pretty far out.”

“No I couldn’t,”

“Come on, I insist. I would still be walking for another 30 minutes without you. And definitely had given up on men in general, before you showed up.” he shook his head, he took my wrist in his hand and set it back down in my lap. Reaching out over again to push the door open for me, this time the smell of Marlboros wafted from his lips.

“Go on, maybe let me take you on a real date next time and we can call it even.” he said, leaning back against his own seat and removing his hand. I sighed as he did, then came an idea. Opening the glove box in front of my knees I stuffed it in between the papers, brushing my hand against the definite condoms. Closing it quickly and jumping out of the car, closing the door and walking around to cross the street. I heard his soft protests, turning around to glance at him crossing the street, digging the house key out of the bottom of my bag. “Wait! You’re not gonna tell me your name?” he pleaded questioningly, I smiled shaking my head walking back to his door. Laying my hands flat on the open window,

“I like being mysterious, I’ll see you around Hargrove.” he placed a hand over mine, the other cupping under my chin for him to rub his thumb along my bottom lip. I courageously pressed a small kiss to the rough pad before running up the porch steps. Waving goodbye as I opened the door, then sinking against it once it was firmly closed behind me. Dad wasn’t in the living room, the kitchen light was on glowing over the darkness of the living room and rest of the down stairs. I tossed my bag down, kicking off the heavy boots at the door walking upstairs to retire for the night.  

-

"Nice ride, it's almost as gorgeous as the girl riding it" hearing the dark familiar voice,

"Good one, do you use that one with all the ladies?" you cocked your head at the boy you’d met this weekend after Tyler stood you up.

"No, just the ones worth my time, I'm Billy Hargroove remember? I own the blue 1979 Chevrolet Camaro that just pulled in all the way from California to grace your town."

"Ah, I see. Well good for you Mr. Hargroove, maybe we'll see each other more often to have more riveting conversations." You wink at him heading inside to put your helmet in your locker when Carol comes over.

“I’m sorry, since when are you a slut for jocks?” She slams your locker shut, “Do you think you could introduce me to hotty with a body.” You open your locker again,

“Don’t know who you're talking about and don’t care, but maybe just keep your mouth open wide. You’ll catch more dick that way.” You open the locker the rest of the way covering her face, her shoulder slams into you before walking away. On the overhead speaker you hear, “Y/N Newby to the counselors please, Ms. Newby to the counselors.” There's teasing as you walk to the Office, stopping short of the Junior/Senior counselors office Ms. Kelly stands with the blonde nightmare from earlier. He’s looking her up and down like a snack leaning against the door frame, you clear your throat to get their attention.

“Hi Ms. Kelly, you wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Ms, Newby. I’d like to introduce you to our newest student. This is William, sorry Billy Hargrove, he just moved here from California! Mr. Hargrove, this is Y/N Newby.” she motions to him, you put on a fake smile putting out your hand to shake his, he takes it and places a light kiss on your knuckles.

“It’s so nice to meet you Y/N,” he winks at you, you remove your hand wiping the feeling of his lips on your blouse.

“Y/N actually, we met in the parking lot, Ms. Kelly.” you narrow your eyes at him staring into your soul with his beautiful baby blue eyes and perfect teeth chewing at some gum. “So why am I here?” you sigh at her, ready to start your day.

“Well Ms. Newby, since your first period is Math and you have no problem keeping up that perfect A. As well being such a well versed academic and club member, I chose you to show Mr. Hargrove around today.” he chuckles, wetting his red lips, “Your schedules are also extremely similar so even more time for you to make friends, potentially help him get caught up if need be.” She passes you Billy’s schedule. God was she right, you had Gym, English Literature, Advanced World History and lunch period together. His locker number was also too close for comfort, you weren’t ever going to not see this absolute jerk-face unless you skipped the rest of Senior year all together. The warning bell rings “You have all of first period to show him around, I already sent notes to your respective teachers and then you can end the tour by going to World History together. I hope you enjoy our small town school Mr. Hargrove, let us know if you need any more assistance.” she looks at you and nods going back into her office. You roll your eyes and sigh heavily at his shit eating grin.

“Well let's get this over with California, I’ll show you your locker first.” You walk him down the hall across from your own locker, he has the code written with a marker on his hand. It takes him two tries before it opens for him. Setting his shoulder bag inside he takes off his jean jacket, holy shit he was ripped.

“So what do you Indiana Teenagers do for fun?” he asks you to break the silence since you spoke in the office.

“Have sex, play sports and smoke weed? Are those the answers you were looking for?” He puts the jacket into the locker and grabs his small bag again.

“Sounds pretty accurate to me, how are the sports?” You begin walking to the gymnasium,

“Okay, for what we have. Basketball is the most sought after team next to Cheerleading. This is the boys locker room.” You point to it while you pass by it,

“Cheer isn’t a sport, though?” he said narrowing his eyes,

“Yeah okay, Hargrove. Maybe you should put on a short skirt and get thrown into the air. While still looking hot! Plus have you seen how flexible, and muscular Male and Female cheerleaders get? I don’t see many Football or Basketball players with such finesse, or strength in their muscles.”

“Okay, maybe you're right. But you haven’t watched me play yet.” God he was a walking, flirting red flag. You rolled your eyes walking into the gym to see freshmen stinking up the place, so much so Coach has all three sets of double doors open.

“So you're a flirt, drive a cool car and play basketball? The girls here are gonna love you California. That’s coach,” you point out the man yelling at the freshman to pick up their awkward knees. He was a pretty nice guy, especially if you at least tried unlike any other P.E teacher or coach you’d met before.

“Does that still include you, Indiana?” you rolled your eyes at him and walked out to the track to the other side of the building. He catches up to you quickly, “Aren’t you supposed to help me find my way by answering my questions?”

“I’m supposed to show you around, not be a notch on your bedpost. This is a place of learning Hargrove, and I intend to be the most successful in this school. So the sex, sports games and drugs are mostly off the table if I’m to earn my seat at Stanford.”

“California?” he stutters catching up to you,

“Yes my fall back is MIT and a couple others but Stanford’s the dream, I know how silly it is.”

“Not really, sounds like a pretty good dream to me.” you scoff at him, “You also said fun was mostly off the table so I’ll take that as a challenge, Doll.” he winks at you.

“My name is Y/N, Billy.”

“And mine is technically William,” he threw his hands in the air, walking up and opening the side door of the school. You gave him a thin lipped smile and opened the other side by yourself, “ Hm, maybe I’ll call you Spitfire instead because you sure do! What are you doing after school today, Spitfire?” he walks around you, making you stop in front of each other at the door of your History class. You look at your watch to avoid his eyes,

“Hmm, anything but whatever this is,” you point in between you two and the bell rings before he can respond, “Looks like tours over, see you in class California.” You slap his shoulder before walking into your assigned seat towards the front middle of the room. You see Steve walking across the courtyard, he waves at you through the window and you waved back.

“Who’s that? Your boyfriend, he doesn’t look like much for a girl like you.” Billy asks from behind you. You turn to look at him, he smiles that he catches your attention.

“Are you going to be this annoying and nosey every class we have together? It’s also assigned seating.” You point to the board which has now changed to put Billy behind you, “shit.” He leans forward in his seat, his breath brushed against your neck.

“What? I have bad eyes, plus I’m just trying to make friends like Ms. Kelly wants us too.” He lightly brushes the hair that fell to your shoulder, making you shiver. You grab his hand before he can react. Turning to see his face, he rips his hand from yours playfully.

“I can be friendly,” you smile at him before flipping all your hair on your back laying it across his desk. The bell rang, prompting Mrs. Garyson to start today's lesson on the War of Pigs. Before you knew it you went to Anatomy, which kinda made your stomach turn but it's a good class. Then it was gym time, and oh how you wished you had just done it as a hormonal freshmen. Senior year P.E was to condition you to be College Athletes by the end of the semester. You walked in watching the Seniors warming up, until you felt someone pick you up from behind and spin you, setting you down Steve turned you around to look at him.

“Hey Sweetheart! Where were you in Stats? I sat all alone listening to Knoll the Troll blab about how to not get behind on the mid-term assignment or You. Will. Fail… duh duh.” you laughed at him, watching Billy come into the Gym walking next to Tommy H. You and Steve sat down together waiting for Coach to join us, instruct what we were doing today.

“I had to show this new kid around, we have like 3 classes together and since I’m on my way to Valedictorian I have to play a role in the student body. As well as keeping my head above water while taking an extremely challenging course load. I think he’s going to cause some trouble. Are you still talking to Tommy and Carol by the way?” you motion to Tommy with your eyes.

“No, they don’t really give a shit about me except my parents money and empty house. Why do you ask?”

“Because I think both Tommy and Carol want to screw the new guy,” You both laugh, looking at Tommy being so extravagant while he talks to Billy. Billy’s eyes burn towards the pair of you, you try to shake up his stare. Before you know it class ends, now it's lunch you drop off some books at your locker. You walk past the trophy case stopping for a moment to look at the various years of accomplishments collecting dust. You see your Mom and Dad smiling and posing with some other students in ‘The National Honor Society’ photo from Class of 1965, it has her maiden name and everything. Little did they know by the next March they would be pregnant and by December have their first and only child.

And in 1970 your mom would lose her fight with cancer, leaving you and your Dad against the world. You wiped a tear with the back of your hand, trying not to smear your makeup too much.

“Who’s this?” Billy says walking up next to you, pointing to the photo you were staring at. You walk away from him going towards the library, before he can see your tears. He lingers for a minute looking at all the pictures before he stumbles on the names Harrington and Newby in a National Honors Society photo. At first glance none of the people look very familiar until he stops at someone who could practically be your twin. He realized it said Class of 1965, and kept that information to himself for later.

You are at your locker after school and a body slams into the wall. Seeing the tight jeans and boots right by your feet, the door keeping you but mere inches apart,

“You really just can’t leave me alone can you?” you scowl looking over the side of the locker, Billy grins with his jean jacket along his shoulder.

“Nah I don’t think I can. We're friends, remember?" You closed the locker after grabbing your helmet.

"I don't think you're the type to keep friends that are girls, just friends. Besides off the table, remember? You can stop skirt chasing me, you know I'm not interested." He kept pace with you as you walked outside to your bike.

"Indiana, what do you think I'm trying to do here?" He stops in front of the doors, opening it for you.

"I don't know, make fun of me or something?" You brush off the confession and quicken your pace on the pavement.

"Doll," he stops you by holding your arms "if I was just trying to heckle you, do you think I would be trying so hard to understand you?" His eyes burned into you, like you'd hurt him with the assumption. "C'mon what's the worst thing to happen?" You looked over to the rows of other girls giving you death stares before turning back to him and brushing him off.

“Them." You point out the popular crowd which used to include Steve more frequently but now just laugh behind his back.

"I don't give a fuck about what they think, I know you don't either. I enjoy how realistic you are, it's not normal for a person to look at me as a human and not just drool. You're odd to me, in a good way.”

“Really, now?”

“Yes, you’re truly mature and nicely stand-offish, your main concern is your future and friends. I also heard rumors of you dating but I knew that wasn’t true until saw you in the gym, all touchy feely. Whispering to each other, I asked around to see if that was Tyler. But when I remembered he graduated, some Tommy kid informed me that was The King of Hawkins. And not to dare try to get in your pants because I’d have to answer to him," You looked at him confused, and he motioned to Steve at his car. Staring daggers at him as Nancy talked.

"Steve Harrington?" You asked, anger started to build in your stomach. Billy snapped his fingers,

"Yes that's the name! So curiosity kicked in and I asked around, everyone says he's dating some Nancy chick. Yeah a bunch of people said he doesn’t like guys hanging around his girls, especially you Doll. I guess he beats the shit out of people who talk of you." You saw Steve over by his car, laughing with Nancy.  Not looking at you again, burying his head in her neck.

"We are not… Anything more than just neighbors. Our mothers were very close. That also seems like a borderline stalker that you asked about me to several people, California. Covering your tracks and trying to flatter me won't be enough. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll see you in class tomorrow." You moved his hands off of you, before setting your helmet on the ground by your bike, marching over to where Steve was.

"Hey guys, what's the plan?" They stop gazing into each other's eyes, Steve turns around fully after helping Nancy off the hood of his car.

"Well since you're talking so much to the new kid we figured you wouldn't mind us just going and doing something." He tells you looking at Nancy's nod of approval, it makes you just that much more angry.

“Oh so you do allow me to go out with guys when it's convenient for you?" You ask him to condescend the statement that may or may not be true.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve bites back, finally looking at you taking note of how angry you are. Nancy keeps her head down, looking away.

"Oh nothing you kids have fun, I'm just going to do our Stats homework for us. Don't want to draw unwarranted male attention when you're Steve’s friend." You turn heel and walk away, seeing a horde of girls at Billy's car already.

Masterlist

[wasted-my-time]

Sharp

A vampire Phil one shot inspired by @make-me-your-animal

Warning: Swearing (just a bit), smut (a little bit more) and well... There will be blood (not that much)

Why do I always arrive at the club after the end of the gig? The music is now coming out of regular speakers instead of amps and the stage is empty.

-Seems like I missed another one... I mumble to myself.

It doesn't matter, reason one: Today was pay day (in cash) and reason two: I don't work tomorrow.

I sit at the bar and decide to start lightly, a beer will do. For now.

A bloke with quite a bit of makeup sits on the stool next to mine and orders a Bloody Mary.

-You just got here, didn't you? He asks and turns his head to look at me without even touching his glass.

-Yes, how did you know?

-We didn't see you during the show.

-We?

-Me and my mates, we were playing tonight.

-Oh, I guess you have a nice view on the whole place from up there.

-It wasn't that nice, since you weren't there... He smiles. By the way, my name is Philip.

Oh my God, cheesy pick up lines, really?

-Lewis, when you'll be done trying to chat up this poor girl, could you bring me my drink, maybe? Another guy taps his shoulder and picks the glass off the counter top.

Lewis shoots a side look at the man, then leaves us with an amused smile.

-Sorry about him, he's used to women throwing themselves at him. He jokes and sits on the stool.

-It's alright.

Lewis did look kind of nice, but there's something purely magnetic about this one, be it the fine, delicate features, the pointed nose or the blood red lipstick.

I catch him staring at me staring at him and we make eye contact. Slowly, I feel my brain slipping away, as if hypnotized by the metallic blue eyes, without even realizing it, I stand up and take a step towards him. But he breaks the charm and looks down to take a sip of his drink, a satisfied half smile raising on his lips.

I sit back, unsure of what just happened.

-So, what's your name? He asks.

-Jean. And you?

-Philip. Yes, another one! He chuckles, then quickly closes his mouth, as to hide something.

But he wasn't fast enough, he has fangs, I saw them, what the fuck?!

-I guess you want some explanations. He responds to my horrified face.

-What's the deal? You're some weirdo pretending to be a vampire?!

-No, I can tell you that it's all very real.

-Prove it. I scoff.

-Well, a few minutes ago, you were pretty much under hypnosis.

-No! It's just... Just that... Right, maybe. I admit. Apart from that?

He opens his mouth and grabs one of the way too sharp teeth to try to pull it, but it stays in place, proving that they are not fakes.

-So, are you convinced?

-... Yeah.

I should probably be running by now, but for some reason, I find it kind of hot.

-What were your plans for me tonight?

-Mmmh... Buy you a drink, take you dancing. Maybe sleep with you, if you're interested.

He doesn't beat around the bush, I like it.

-No blood drinking? I pout and tilt my head,. almost offering my neck.

-Maybe later. Now let's dance, love!

___________________________________________

A couple of dances (and drinks) later, a slow comes up and we end up swaying around, my arms wrapped around his shoulders while his right hand gently strokes the back of my neck and his left one lies on my waist.

At the end of the song, I decide it's time to make a move and reach for his mouth, grasping the back of his head with both of my hands. He lets me do and our lips meet in the sensation of wet tongues and smudged lipstick.

-Man, didn't your mum teach you not to play with your food? The other Phil comes passing by, interrupting our kiss.

-She sure told me to stay out of other people's business! He shouts back, causing his friend to burst in laughter.

-I don't mind playing, but I would rather discuss how I'll become food. I tell him and plant another kiss on the corner of his mouth.

-You're not food, but this is not the place to talk about it, let's go out.

The cool air of the night hits me in the face as we pass the door, but he doesn't seem to feel it. Unfortunately, there seems to be as much people in the street as there was inside, so we go in the small backstreet at the corner of the building.

At the end of the alley we find a bunch of milk crates by the brick wall of some restaurant and we pile them up to sit (un)comfortably.

-Are you scared? He asks.

-Yes, but a good kind of scared. If that makes sense.

-Excited?

-Almost. But, I was wondering, is it going to hurt?

-No, when it's done properly, it's rather pleasant.

-What do you mean "Done properly"?

-The comparison may be awful, but it's a bit like sex. You don't do it without asking first and you do your best so that the other person likes it. Forget it, that sounds terrible. He chuckles, and shakes his head, laughing of his own words.

-No, I think it gets the point across. But how would you do your best?

I'm past the point of intrigued questioning, I'm at teasing, and I think he knows.

He takes my hand in his and lets a wide grin split his face in two.

-First, I would take you to your place, because I doubt you would like to do that at mine, given the fact that I live with my mum.

-Right.

-Then I would take my time making love to you. He is now whispering so close from my ear that I can almost feel his lips moving. And only after that, I would bite you.

-There? I moan, taking his hand to my neck.

-No, people would see the mark. Somewhere more... Intimate, where no one would ever see it. A place with soft skin and warm flesh. He whispers and lower his hand to caress my breasts, then trails down to my tigh.

-This sounds like a great idea to me. I answer before he kisses me and I bite softly at his bottom lip.

__________________________________________

We both lean against my dresser and Phil takes off my shirt as I battle against the buttons of his blouse.

-Don't bother with those, I'll wear it wide open if they break. He stops, and smiles, slightly amused by my struggle.

I do as told and pull both sides of the clothing apart, a few buttons falling apart as it lays on the ground between us and my bed.

As if it was all he was waiting for, he snaps my bra off and pushes me on the bed, before marking yet another pause, looking at me like I was some art masterpiece.

-It's rude to stare. I tease him, taking my arms off my chest to reveal my tits.

-Then don't be so pleasant to stare at. He groans and climbs on top of me, working my skirt open and discarding it on the floor.

I may or may not have decided to wear lace panties tonight.

-You dirty, dirty, little girl, you wanted to take someone home, uh? His voice going low with lust when he pulls them down.

He starts to trail kisses all the way down my body, starting from the neck, then teasing my left nipple with his tongue, only to end on my inner thigh.

He stops and only at that moment, he seems to notice my core, exposed between my parted legs. A devilish grin rises on his lips as he lowers his head to start to kiss and lick exactly on the right spot...

Wait, what is he going to do down there? I think as I suddenly pull myself away from him, staring with wide eyes at his surprised face.

-Oh love don't worry, I would never do that! Not, there, not like this. He pleads, having already guessed what scared me. I just thought you would like it. I'm sorry.

-I understand, but I'd rather not. Okay?

He nods with a relieved smile and crawls back on top of me and our lips meet again, our tongues intertwined and my hands opening his trousers, which he promptly pulls down along with his boxers.

-Wait, I have condoms in there. I stop him to turn on my side and open my nightstand's drawer.

-I can't get you pregnant or sick, so I don't think it we'll need it.

-Good, 'cause I just saw the box was empty.

I turn again to lay on my back and pull him to me with my legs now crossed around his back. He pushes in and kisses me at the same time, my moan muffled by his lips. Each of his thrusts are so deep, but so slow it's driving me crazy.

-Come on, just a bit faster, please! I beg.

-I did say I was gonna' take my time. And I've got eternity, so you won't see me hurry up.

-Cheeky bastard, I'll make sure we both go mad over this.

-Yeah, how?

I start to play with the muscles of my lower stomach, repetitively squeezing and letting go, not giving him any break.

-Okay, you were right. He whispers between two hushed moans.

All of a sudden, he pulls out and I let out a small whine of disappointment.

-What are you doing? I ask.

-You'll see, I'm good with my hands. He winks.

He starts to massage my clit with his left index finger, the skin is pretty rough because of guitar playing, but I don't mind, he was right, he is good.

His right hand pushes my left leg further away and he lowers himself, then laying kiss after kiss on my thigh.

I feel heat building up in my guts, it won't last much longer, maybe he could get what he cane for.

-Phil, do it, bite me. I moan and push his head against my skin.

-You're sure?

-Yes, I'm telling you, please!

I find the force to open my eyes, I want to see him. At first it just looks like another kiss, but he opens his mouth wider and I see his fangs penetrating my skin. Where I thought there would be pain, all I find is pleasure, quite similar to the one his finger is giving me. The same kind heat radiates from my guts and the wound and it's just too much. My back arches as spasms shake my stomach and, oddly enough, my left leg.

I want to yell his name, beg him to never stop, but all that comes out of my mouth is a long, hoarse scream of delight. I think I'm having two orgasms at a time.

Shortly after, he licks the wound for a last time and pulls away from me, panting just as much as I do, looking just as satisfied.

He crawls up to me and rests his head on my shoulder, wiping away a drop of blood that ran down his chin.

-And? He gasps. How bad was it?

-Pretty good actually. You were correct when you compared it to sex.

-Great to hear it. Can I sleep here? I mean tomorrow, during the day. Because of the sun and everything...

-Anything you want.

___________________________________________

[thursdaygrl]

warner isn't throwing a tantrum over any of it, he just needs the distance, needs to put space between himself and two of them so he can make sense of all of it. miles is just... — he's nothing, less than that even to him. he hasn't crossed his mind since they were teenagers, his appearance at this party should be such a non event it's not even funny but it's the fact that he's with her that has made his presence worm its way into his brain as a problem. he's so smug in the fashion in which he hangs off of her, plying her with affection as if he owns her, as if it's just this done deal that he's staked his claim. and while warner has honestly worked so hard to try to never think of jade in any way that's less than entirely platonic, it's the sight of someone else claiming her that's bringing it all up to the surface. maybe he's a selfish prick for even letting it get to this point, but all plans to play designated driver go out the window as he approaches the drinks table, painfully unaware that jade even wanted to follow after him. he's thinking about the way she looked at him before, how he swears she met his gaze more than she did miles' and he's latching onto that as he pours himself something, just strong enough to bring on a buzz with a splash of sprite so it'll taste a little better. he's not much of a tequila fan after the nigh he spent underneath a table last semester, but it's effective. he downs half of it right there, staring at a spot on the wall. he turns, taking big gulps as he squeezes back through party, slipping past person after person with every intention to find his sister and stop thinking about jade because he can't. he can't get jealous, he can't get caught up in whatever feelings he does or doesn't have for her. it's messy and unfair and he's not even sure that she feels that way about him. well, not a hundred percent, anyway. there's always been something sweet about the way she hangs off his every word, when he's actually around to see her.

luella is no where to be found, though. not as he turns his head and looks around the room, the bass from the music getting more prominent as he reaches what appears to be the dancefloor. instead of lu his eyes meet jade's again and this time when he goes to sip his drink he downs the whole thing, abandoning it on a nearby surface. something drives him now, maybe that feeling in his gut as he watches miles with his hands all over her and intent clear in his expression. he's gonna kiss her, but that eye contact jade makes with warner is enough. he stalks through the writhing, grinding bodies with a singular purpose, like a god damn man possessed. maybe it's spite or jealousy, but but he doesn't second guess himself as he reaches the two of them. he wants to be selfish. he will be, fingers grazing miles' shoulder to distract him and maybe get him to pull an arm away from her. "hey, man, can i just talk to her for a sec..." he swoops in effortlessly, the liquid courage doing him wonders, his hand sliding in between them towards her waist and pulling her back a little, keeping her steady so she doesn't trip over her feet. warner's looking at her intently, but the corner of his mouth lifts and then he just leans in, kissing her. it's that easy, just his lips on hers, maybe a touch more heated than it needs to be because it immediately makes him need more than something chaste. he doesn't pull back until he's breathless and by then he's forgotten about miles, blinking at her as he pulls away.

she could be drunk , but surely the tension between the boys wasn ' t just in her imagination --- which in a classic jade way , she tries to cool things off and get the two of them to get along . her cheeks blush as miles pulls her closer to him by her waist , but there she goes , unsure of what else to do . a million things go through her mind : she doesn ' t know how to feel about it , since she likes miles , but would always choose warner in a heartbeat . . . on the other side , may be a little shy to have warner see how guys don ' t see her as a kid like he might still do , but it ' s something she kinda likes --- perhaps that way he would finally realize she had grown into a young woman --- someone he could have as more than his little sister ' s friend . despite being on milo ' s arms , her gaze is locked on warner as he touches her hair , and she can ' t fight a coyly smile at his words , sheepishly agreeing ' it ' s not my fault your family keeps the fridge full of good things , while mine only has everything natural and boring . . . ' but both know it ' s not the fridge the reason she goes over so often . ' and i only go when lu invites me , okay ? so it ' s also not my fault that is . . . well , always . ' sure lu was the main reason , but she ' d be lying if she said knowing he ' d also be there didn ' t get her ready in a heartbeat , and coincidentally more pulled together than usual . but her words don ' t seem to make a difference that really matters , as the two of them bicker over old times . or , at least , milo does --- as she glances at him with a bit of a confused face , silently questioning why is he acting that way --- and clearly telling he should stop . once again , is warner ' s calm she admires , how he never fails to act so grown up and mature --- she only wishes she could be as wise as him , instead of being the complete opposite . she doesn ' t have much of a choice when a friend of hers pulls her to talk about some gossip , as she hopes the two boys can leave things in the past and get along , at least at the party . and for a moment , she believes it ' s possible , as milo ' s arm hangs over her shoulders and he plants a kiss on her cheek to announce his presence back . her instinctive reaction is to look for warner , to see his reaction to that . . . only she finds him passing by them , announcing he ' s getting himself a drink . ' wait , i ' m coming with . . . ' jade tries to go with him , but miles pulls her back by the arm , making her words die on the middle of the way as he claims ' c ' mon , jayjay , your cup is not even empty yet ! ' and to be honest , she can ' t fight that argument , looking at the red cup on her hands before warner disappears among the crowd . when the group decides to go play some beer pong , she goes along , partnering up with miles for a few rounds . he seems to be extra clingy and touchy that evening . . . but perhaps it ' s how alcohol affects him , right ? not having a boyfriend history , she likes such attention and how it makes her feel like the young adult she is now . . . but she can ' t fight looking for warner whenever she can , only hoping it could be him giving her that attention --- especially as miles takes her dancing , despite her being too tipsy to twirl around . she ends up relying on his arms and hands to guide her body , and she can swear by the look on his face , it ' s only a matter of time till he kisses her . . .

[ch4nb4ng]

Evil Roommate

pairing: leeknow x afab!reader, roommates enemies to lovers

warnings: softdom!lino, cheating (mentioned), making out, grinding, oral (f receiving), fingering penetration, cum play (?), praise

requested : yes!

word count 6.2k

summary: the new roommate was a handful. lazy, disrespectful, arrogant, and a whole bunch of other negative things. but wow, you were sexually frustrated and he, well, attractive, was an understatement.

“Can you actually like, wash your kitchen utensils when you're done using them?”

The amount of huffing and puffing you have heard from your new roommate in the past two weeks was ridiculous. If you had a dollar for every time he had gone against anything you had politely asked for, you would be rich by now, and definitely stable enough to move out and away from him.

“I will,” he mumbled, mouth stuffed with half of the carrot he was chewing on, very loudly, “can I not enjoy my food first?”

“No,” you replied without hesitation, giving the fakest of smiles in return, “you should do it before you eat.”

Another eye roll from Minho was like water off a duck’s back.

“I'd also appreciate it if you didn’t talk to me with your mouth full of food either.”

“What the fuck is your problem?”

You coughed, turning on your hills to face a very unimpressed roommate. His stare was eye shattering. Yes, he was very, no, extremely good looking. However, every single thing that made up his personality could not be more different to you. Sloppy, messy, lazy. Took no responsibility for any of his actions, especially the high pitch noises (that obviously were not his) you would hear from his room in the early hours of the morning. You would pinch your pillow together, praying extremely hard that the noise would stop, and by the time it did, you would get maybe 2, 3 hours of sleep. College was becoming tiring, not only from staying up to complete assessments, but the lewd noises you could hear from at least 2 people in his room. Your blunt attitude towards Minho’s unhygienic and disrespectful habits were definitely justified.

“What are you talking about?”

“Why do you nitpick everything I do?”

Your jaw dropped, completely dumbfounded.

“Me? Nitpicking you? Please,” you scoffed, “you don't clean up after yourself ever, you leave your dirty clothes everywhere, and don't even get me started on the fact that I barely get any sleep because of your wild sex adventures with other people that occur almost every weeknight, when you know I have to wake up early to go to class next day.”

A combination of frustration and exhaustion could be heard through the harshness of each breath. The smirk that appeared on his face was absolutely punch worthy. What on earth was there to be so cocky of?

“My wild sex adventures,” he paused taking a bite of the dreaded carrot, “please, tell me more about my wild sex adventures.”

His tongue was now obviously pressed against his cheek, a devil coated smile still very apparent on his face. The longer he was looking at you like that, the hotter your cheeks became. Pure anger began to course through you; all he had to do was sit there and look pretty. It was definitely enough for you to get the green light to slap him across the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” you hissed, “I don’t need to explain how I can hear them moaning your name every night, or the banging I hear from wall to-”

“Hmm,” he hummed, “you seem to be listening very well.”

Distracted by your anger for a brief moment, you gasped suddenly, feeling Minho’s fingertips at your sides. You turned around, swatting his hands away, giving him that slap that you felt you had earned across the face.

“Who the fuck said you could touch me?

“Did you just fucking slap me?”

“Yes I fucking did,” you spat, “what do you take me for?”

“You know what you’re right, but you walk around here with a stick up your ass. I hear you on the phone to your friends, complaining about how you don't get any action from anyone.”

You stood there in disbelief. “So you’ve been eavesdropping on my convos as well?”

“Well it’s kind of hard not to hear, you know, the walls in this house are kind of thin.”

Your jaw clenched, his eyebrows furrowed, the conversation was at a stand still.

“Can you get to the point please?”

“I sure can sweetheart,” the name sending a shiver down your spine, “if you're that sexually frustrated, go and do something about it instead of taking it out on me?”

A laugh that you didn't even know you were capable of bellowed from your chest. You stumbled back, grabbing onto stool behind the bench for support.

“Me? Sexually frustrated? Please,” you huffed, “I’m not sexually frustrated, and it definitely has nothing to do with you.”

Another scoff escaped your lips as you shuffled back to your room. Closing the door behind you, a heavy sigh came from your chest as you sat on the edge of your bed. How on earth was he able to read you like that? So well and so accurate? It was all you could think about, not to mention the fact that it was also night time simultaneously.

You let your body fall onto your bed sheets. The feeling of restlessness was consuming your body. As you crawled into bed, you looked straight into the ceiling. Why were you thinking about his words so much? Were you really taking it out on him? You shook your head, mentally slapping yourself for even considering the thought.

Minho was a lazy slob who was extremely inconsiderate of others, especially you. But why was the thought of his fingers on your sides becoming the main source of agitation.? The silence of your thoughts was deafening, but they were easily interrupted as soon as you heard the door open, a high pitched voice followed what felt like the most ludicrous creek you had ever heard. ‘I should really put some oil on the door huh?’ You paused for a couple of seconds, this time physically face palming yourself for the dumb excuse you had made to see who he had decided to bring over to accompany him tonight. Legs completely ignoring your brain, you were out of bed, hand twisting the knob and peeking a look at the poor girl that would be subjected to Minho’s torture tonight. Tip toeing out of the doorway, you kept the weight of a feather on your toes, making yourself as invisible as possible.

“Y/n?”

Your pink panther stance of attempted deception looked utterly ridiculous and not sly at all was extremely confusing to the two. You quickly relaxed into a normal stance, the fakest of smiles coming across your face as you see who it is he brought home to have his way with.

“Chaeyeon… heyyy,” you lingered, “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

You would have been happy with literally anyone else. But Chaeyeon? Chaeyeon? It’s like she was your number one arch rival. Minho knew how much you hated her, yet he still let her come over. Everything about her you could not stand, not to mention the fact that she home wrecked your last serious relationship. Even though it was a while ago, you can forgive but not forget, her face being a constant reminder of your hurtful past.

“Oh hey Y/N,” she almost signed, her amount of excitement to see you matching yours, “I didn’t know you lived here.”

The arm he had around her waist made you sick.

“There’s a lot of things you don't know about me,” you mumbled, foot swaying back and forth, eyes focused on said foot.

“Okay, so you guys have had a little reunion,” Minho interrupted. Anything would have been better to break the awkward silence than his sarcastic comments, “we’re gonna go to my room now.”

“NO!” you interjected, covering the hallway with every bit of your being, “I mean, what’s the rush huh? Changbin is coming over as well.”

You paused, Minho’s face clearly cussing you out if yelling was inappropriate at this current moment.

“Uh no thanks Y/N-”

“We should all hang out!”

The excitement coming from your voice was so inauthentic, it was hard to miss.

“Yeah! Let’s all hang out,” you walked behind them, placing a hand on each of their backs and you hurried them to the couch, “I’ll get some beers in the fridge.”

“I actually only drink vodka,” Chaeyeon yawns, obnoxiously twirling her hair, her other hand aggravatingly high on his thigh.

“Oh that’s totally fine,” you gritted through tightly clenched teeth, “we have a bottle in the fridge, I’ll grab that for you as well.”

You scuffled back over to the fridge, mentally cursing yourself as you grabbed the necessary beverages. The confusion you were giving yourself about why you were putting in so much effort to spend time with the two people you literally hated more than anything was mind baffling

“So,” you began again, passing a Corona to Minho, a glass to Chaeyeon, “how have you been finding your course so far?”

You sat the Smirnoff and Orange juice on the table. Yes, you were being nice, but not nice enough to pour the drink for this bitch.

“Oh it was so great,” she smiled, “Jisung and I were living together, it was, well, a dream really.”

The feeling of your nails became prominent in your fists as your fingers caved in. The mention of his name was enough to make you see red, let alone the idea of them being happily together. The itch of your eye begging to roll was becoming too prominent, so much that you had to get up and walk away for a second. You stood up abruptly, confusion etched into Minho’s features. You didn’t want to make this a big deal, but the fact that she continued to gloat about it, long after you stopped listening was enough to reach your breaking point.

“I think I heard my phone ringing from my room, it must be Changbin.”

“I don't think I hear anything,” Minho smirked, plastering his lips on the edge of the bottle. The way his lips wrapped around the tip of the warm glass was something you ‘accidentally’ became fixated on. You puffed your cheeks, storming to your room and somewhat aggressively shutting the door behind you. Scrambling for your phone on the bedside table, you panicked, unclear mind as you scrolled through your phone contacts. You paused, an inducing amount of oxygen filling up your lungs. It did little to calm the irritated tingling sensation in your fingers.

Changbin’s name had finally popped up on your phone after what had felt like a lifetime.

“Hello?”

His voice was husky, guilt panging your chest as you realsied you had probably woken him up from his not very often deep slumber.

“Changbin,” you gasped, “you know how much I love you right?”

“What do you need me to do?”

You snickered at his words. He had been your friend for too long to know that those words would never be said unless you needed something.

“Can you come over,” you pleaded, “Chaeyeon is here with Minho because he invited her over late at night, and I told them you were coming over?”

“Jesus Y/n,” Changbin sighed, a playful chuckle tickling your cheek, “so you want me to come over and make Minho jealous?”

“Wait no wtf,” you jumbled, “make Minho jealous? I just want you to flirt with me and Chaeyeon so she leaves.”

“Mhm yeah,” he chuckled once more, voice laced with sarcasm as he spoke, “I’ll come over, but if you don't sleep with him by the end of the night, I’m gonna be extremely disappointed.”

“Yeah okay whatever just get your ass over here now.”

And with that you abruptly ended the phone call, Changbin giving you no peace of mind. Were you this easy to read by everybody? A frustrated sigh exploded from your chest. The games your head and your heart were playing with were helping you come to no resolution. You sat on your bed, thoughts were running crazy. Now would be a really great time to just put on Netflix and curl into bed, have some snacks and fall asleep, chip trail on ur chest to be found in the morning.

You were interrupted by the very loud knock on the door. Sprinting like your life depended on it, you were relieved. Seeing Changbin’s face had never before given you so much joy.

“Changbin,” you shouted, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace.

“Y/n what are you doing-”

“Shut up and go along with it,” you mumbled into his chest, letting up, but still keeping your body tightly wounded against his. Minho’s jaw became clenched, or were you just imagining things?

Regardless of what it was, your brain quickly shifted to the way Chaeyeon was eyeing Changbin up and down, almost like it was the first time she had ever seen an attractive male. ‘She definitely wasn’t looking at Minho like that when he walked in’ you thought, an unconscious smirk coming to mouth. You bit down on your bottom lip, an extremely poor attempt at masking the satisfaction of your goal being achieved so easily. One step closer to kicking her out, for good, because there was no way you weren’t talking to Minho after this about making an explicit declaration of her abandonment from this house.

“Minho,” he smiled, earning a nod, “Chaeyeon,” he smirked, an almost gag spilling out of your mouth.

“Changbin,” she followed, repeating his smirk, “long time no see.”

She gulped, engulfing a large sip of alcohol into her wicked mouth.

“Let’s play a game!”

“A game,” you questioned, raising an eyebrow, “why would we play-”

“I think that’s a great idea!”

You turned to look at him, a puzzled expression still very apparent on your facial features.

“Get the vodka out from the fridge, and let’s get started.”

***

Two bottles of vodka down, and what looked like 8 bottles of Corona sitting empty on the table, the games that were being played were becoming more difficult to comprehend. Sound of giggle and laughter constantly filled the room as everyone slowly began to lose their minds to the intoxication.

“O-okay, never have I e-ever, done a sexual act in public.”

Filters of chuckles and laughter filled the room as everyone, but you took a sip.

“What?” she asked, offering you her fake sympathy, “you’ve never done anything like that before?”

“I-I mean,” you stuttered, the look of confusion was evident, “I don’t think I have-”

“Yes you have.”

All eyes were snapped open and pressing into Minho’s skull as he began to converse.

“Pfft, no I have not,” you scoffed, taking another swig. An eye roll left came from Minho, followed by a sound of what seemed to be disgust as he shot gunned his current bottle.

“Yes you have,” he nagged, playfully hitting your shoulder, “I saw you.”

Complete silence fell over the room as he words lingered in the air. You genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.The feeling of the room had suddenly changed. His eyes became soft, fixated on nothing but the way your body slumped against the rough material of the couch.

Your mind began to drift. Thoughts floating into earlier scenes of the night. The closeness of his breath fanning your neck ever so softly, palms spread across your hips. The idea of marks on you swimming into your head. God that would feel so good. Letting him grab you and throw you onto his bed. Climbing up your frame, starting from the bottom of your legs, keeping a tight grip on your inner thighs. The feeling of faint lips stealing every inch of your being, tantalisingly hitting every, single, spot, finally reaching your-

“Y/N? Y/N!”

The feeling of Changbin's shaking your shoulders definitely brought you back to reality. His hands did feel nice, but they weren’t the ones you were longing for. Your head was thrown back, disbelief filling you as your mind continued to fill the gutter.

“When?”

As you moved closer, you giggled, placing your finger tip across his knee. You let them dance, index fingers tapping away at the skin you so desperately wanted to see in this moment.

“Mr. Lee Minho, when did you see me?”

“I’m not saying it here in front of-”

“Who? Chaeyeon?”

Your prowling continued, bodies even closer as you slowly began to climb him like an inanimate object. This would have been completely awkward sober. Nothing about this was romantic in the slightest. To an outsider, or Changbin and Chaeyeon, you were right there, situated across Minho’s lap. It wasn’t quite a straddle, it was just something. They both stayed quiet, paying little attention to your animalistic act, already focused on feeling each other up. Or so you assumed, seeing as they didn’t say anything. All that was heard was the sound of the front door. You snapped your head for a quick moment, eyes scanning the emptiness the room suddenly felt.

“It was in the car.”

Minho’s words felt heavy, like he had more to say.

“The car?”

You were taken aback, face moving away from the closeness of his. Part of your brain clicked, remembering exactly what he was talking about. With Jisung. The memory of hurt was quickly forgotten as the feeling of Minho’s palms spread across your body was bringing you to life. The adrenaline came all at once. Your mind was telling you to move away, but your body was saying something else, affirming it’s position.

Minho was leaning in, barely any spaces between the two as his fingertips began to spread lower and lower, firmly gripping either side of your ass as he moved you closer. A helpless whimper escaped your lips as you felt your legs tighten, heat running down to your core, quickly. What the fuck was happening right now?

“You were on top of him,” he whispered, pulling your hips against him once more, “just like this.”

“F-fuck,” was all that managed to slip out of your lips. This was becoming difficult. So difficult to say no and move away. You knew it was the right thing to do. Things would just be awkward and you could go back to hating him. No matter how much you tried, how much you wanted to, you were powerless. Every fiber of your being was being given up to him. You leaned in closer, foreheads now touching as you looked at him. His gaze was anything but lacklustre as his jaw became tense. His body began to ache simultaneously with yours. The pressure was becoming too much.

“Do you want this?”

“What?”

A small whine escaped you at the loss of his tips gripping your body. They quickly made their way to either side of your face. Your body began to rock back and forth on it’s own. You had become desperate for any sort of friction that you could create.

“I said, do you want this?”

“Do you?”

His expression made you nervous. It was hard to read. All you could see was the black substance of his pupils enlarge, increasing in diameter by the second. Almost like a supernatural being was possessing him.

“Fuck,” you grunted, wrapping your hands around his neck to steady yourself on top of him, “you’re making it hard to say no.”

Things were already becoming hazy the longer you stayed. A huff of frustration came from him as he was giving all his effort not to give into the way you were rubbing your dampening heat against him. It was like a drug he could not refuse.

“Kiss me if you want me.”

He huffed, the edge of his lips just barely brushing against the tip of your nose.

“Kiss me, and give me the green light.”

You waited a moment, any part of your brain that wasn't concentrated solely on his palms digging into your sides trying to reason. You looked at him once more. His eyes, nose, lips. His lips.

“Fuck it.”

He was quick to work, pushing you down to lie flat against the couch. A small kiss to your lips was felt as he pulled away, lifting his arms up and throwing his shirt to the floor at Usain Bolt pace. The smirk on your face was too easy for him not to see.

“You like what you fucking see don’t you?”

“Just shut the fuck up and kiss me.”

Of course. Of course he was still that arrogant cocky motherfucker that you could not stand. The one who never cleaned up after himself. Or took too long in the shower for the hot water to run out. All of these evil perceptions you had of your roommate were disappearing as his lips were gently placed onto yours. It was a little too slow for your liking, but it was deep. Boy, was it deep. Each movement of his tongue was made with so much precision as he lowered himself onto you. His thighs were clenched, a soft groan could be heard against his lips as his groin pressed into you. Holy fuck, were you really doing this? It was so wrong. Everything in the world was saying to stop, stop this.

“Mm- wait,” you paused your hands on his chest to push him away, “wait.”

A flash of panic waved over his eyes as he quickly jumped off of you, face palming the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you? Are you-”

“I’m fine,” you interjected, giggling at the never been seen care and caution he had for you, “I just don’t think we should do this.”

“Oh,” was all he could say. You kept your gaze lowered; looking at him would have made you feel so guilty. The feeling of regret started to seep into your bones, but you couldn't tell: was it regret of this ever happening, or was it regret from stopping? Your head was too muddled to even attempt to comprehend what had just appended. The only sound that could be heard was your scuffed footsteps, quickly pacing back to your room and shutting the door, hard. The loudest sigh known to earth could be heard on the opposite side of the room as you let your body collapse. The ache between your legs was growing by the second; and as much as you tried to suppress the feeling of Minho’s lips on yours, fingertips dragging along your sides. No. It was much easier this way. Setting boundaries as roommates seemed to be a better idea for the long run.

But the long run was boring. You would both have to pretend that this never happened. Having other people over for sexual purposes would just be awkward now; the more you thought about it, the realisation, and the jealousy hit that you had already crossed said boundary. And maybe that’s why your feet had dragged you to the front of his bedroom door. How the fuck did you get here? You brought your knuckles to the wooden frame, door becoming slightly ajar as you gently knocked. Minho’s snapped his head around, covering himself quickly as you walked in. You cocked your eyebrow, a face of confusion apparent on your face.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing,” he huffed, turning back to his previous position, “what do you want?”

You wanted to just walk out. Mind your business and just leave. But it was hard, quite literally. The imprint of what you assumed to be Minho’s naked lower half painfully pressing into the sheer sheets that was covering him. He paid you no more attention, giving you all the power to initiate whatever it is you wanted to initiate. You slowly crept in beside him, nuzzling your head into the back of his neck as he groaned in annoyance.

“Y/n, what the fuck are you doing in my bed?”

“Hmm, I think I changed my mind,” you whispered, reaching around to grab him. A blunt hiss escaped Minho’s lips as your action made him turn around. He was so close to you now. So close that you could feel his breath spreading across your left cheek.

“Are you being serious right now?”

The look on his face was unimpressed to say the least.

“Yeah, I mean,” your voice was calm as your hand began to take flight, sliding down to the base of his shaft, “we’ve already crossed the line, let’s go a little further.”

“Oh yeah?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He grabbed you by the wrist that was currently on him, pulling it away and climbing on top of you. Both hands now leaving his side, securely attached onto both wrists as he pinned them down above your head. Nose clumsily tickling yours as he reattached his lips to yours. The feeling of his lips was much softer and calmer than before, almost like he was protecting you. Wanting to keep the moment so delicate, though the way his bare hips involuntarily grinding against your clothed core was far from it. A soft whimper came from your lips, vibrating against his. A soft chuckle was heard from Minho as he pulled away; it made you nervous. To be more specific, the way that arrogant, mischievous smirk that you knew all too well was spread across his face.

“You’re so responsive to me,” he growled, quickly planting another one on your lips before sliding down to your jaw, then your neck, stopping at your chest. Nothing needed to be said as you quickly discarded your shirt, silently thanking your past self for not wearing any underneath. Minho situated himself in front of your now bare chest, waist sitting against your heart as he took one nipple into his mouth, fingers enclosing around the other. A loud whine left your lips, back arching in reaction to him. He looked up, satisfied filling his body as you weren’t able to return his gaze, head already rolled all the way back as he continued his playful assault.

“It’s so cute,” he mumbled between kisses, “so responsive and I’ve barely done anything.”

His lips travelled down the center of your stomach, dipping dangerously closer to where you wanted him most. His continuous rhythm between kisses was immaculate. Any of the incoherent sounds you made, or the crude remarks he made were left unsaid.

“Fuck,” you hissed, painfully throbbing at the way Minho played with the waistband of your panties.

“Not fun to be teased y/n,’ he paused, making sure you were looking at him, “is it.”

A pang of guilt hit your chest for a moment. I mean, it’s not like you did it on purpose, right?

“Minho I’m-”

“Save it,” he scoffs, “whether you did it on purpose, or not, I’m not gonna let you have it so easily.”

His fingers stopped their performance across your hips, continuing a little lower than before. The smirk came to his lips once more, index finger running down your slit. The friction was fierce, but not fierce enough. You wanted, no, you needed more. All he could do was smile at your mercy.

“So fun to tease darling, but you’re gonna have to be more vocal if you want these panties off.”

“Minho please,” you whined, “for fucks sake.”

You bucked your hips forward, desperate for any more contact from the bare minimum he was giving you.

“That doesn’t sound very nice to me.”

“Minho please, please, please,” you whispered, voice becoming super weak, “fuck me, or finger me, anything please, I need to feel you.”

“Now that’s more like it,” he smiled, finally pulling your panties down. You have never lifted your hips faster in your life. The vulnerability of your naked body was somewhat confronting, but your brain was so fogged out from the immense teasing, you cared little.

“Fuck,” he gasped, spreading you effortlessly with two fingers, “you’re so wet for me, aren't you?”

The heat in your cheeks rose as you became embarrassed at his words. Minho didn’t know this, but feeling humiliated was something that could make you cum on the spot. Words intended for insult went through your ears and straight down to the core, the heat becoming like an intense fire igniting in your body as one of his hands moved along your inner thigh, the other gently beginning to circle around where you needed him most.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, “oh my god Minho please, more.” Your voice was becoming needier by the second, but the longer it went on, the less you seemed to care. His tongue was now a factor coming into play, small kitty licks lapping your clit at a suddenly fast pace. Your legs are already trembling, but Minho does more to appease, hooking his arms under and around your thighs to stop the flustered look on your face. It was confronting how quickly he was getting you to your high.

“Please,” you sighed, eyes hazed as you attempted to look down at the way his tongue was on you. The combination of him sucking on your clit, then pushing it through your entrance almost made you scream. However, the noises that came from your mouth were small, heavy pants, progressively getting louder and louder the tighter the knot in your stomach became.

“Do you wanna cum princess?” His voice was whiny, mocking the tone you had used earlier. You nodded ferociously, knowing any attempt to speak would come out horse or just broken.

“Such a good girl,” he purred, replacing his tongue with two fingers, “but if you want to cum, you’re gonna have to beg for it once more.”

“You’re such a fucking dick,” you groaned, an attempt of grinding your center onto Minho’s fingers failing miserably, “you’re being so unfair.”

“I’m unfair?” he scoffed, beginning his digits back to a bare minimum pace, “you’re the one

who was teasing me all night. I know Changbin is like, your best friend so there was no chance you were bringing him back to fuck him. Then you start to kiss me, hard and fast may I add, AND THEN ! you aren’t sure and you leave me to pretend like nothing happened.”

There was no witty comeback you could say in response because he was right. You were the one who has done the teasing for most of the night.

“You looked so fucked out right now baby,” his tone coming back to a calming medium, “begging for me to make you cum, which I can do right now,” he paused, climbing back to your side, lifting your left leg to continue his easy access to ur clit, “or you can beg even more to have my cock inside of you. The choice is yours.” You swallowed, hard. How could he say something so filthy? Out of all the times you had heard him bring other girls over, he would never talk like this. It was always so nice and calm, full of praise and compassion. Maybe they didn’t act like cock teases and let him just have what he wanted.

“C-cock,” you mumbled, pushing your backside against his now pulsating cock, “please give your cock sir.”

“Ooo sir, I like that one, but you’re gonna have to do more if you want me to fill you up princess.”

Words were becoming extremely hard to not only facilitate in your mind, but put them on your tongue and get out to him. He knew this. He knew your were on the brink of collapsing in cum, but the torture was too entertaining for him nonetheless. Although you're frustrated with him was increasing, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the way he was using you like a sex toy was turning you on. After being up his ass so long with rules around the house and how you wanted things done, it was nice to finally let go. Submit to his rules instead of yours.

“P-please Minho, sir’ you panted, head turning to look at the sadistic face of enjoyment he was having from this, “I’ll do anything, a-anything to have your cock inside of me right now.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

“Okay then tomorrow morning, you have to make me breakfast, AND wash my dishes.”

“Seriously,” you panted, “that’s what you're thinking about right now?”

“You said anything.” He shrugged, suddenly taking his fingers away from your dripping core. A gasp of disappointment came to your lips at the loss of delicious contact. Minho sat up, ducking under your leg, and positioning himself right back to where he was previously. However, this time, he was on his knees. Although you were touching it before, you really hadn't had a chance to look at how big it was: way more than what you expected. He stroked himself a couple of times, making sure not to get carried away with himself before he pushed it between your folds, letting his pre-cum mix with your juices. He slowly descended into you. Jaws dropping simultaneously, you gasped. The way he was stretching you out did burn a little bit, but once he was fully inside, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Minho waited until the look of slight discomfort faded from your features.

“Are you okay?”

You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip and he slowly pulled himself back out. He kept a consistent, yet slow pace as leaned in closer to you. He was now hovering over, letting his face become buried into the middle of your breasts. The feeling was so immaculate, you were desperate to cling onto something for support.

“Dig them into me,” he groaned, strangling his vocal cords, “dig your nails into my back and scratch me like your life fucking depends on it.”

Perfect. You did as he pleased, a loud moan of his name wrestling from your lips as you felt the red marks appear on his backside. The pressure from before was already building in your stomach again, and he could tell. The way you were super tight for him was one, but the way you were now clenching around him was another. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer if you kept doing that.

“Fuck,” was all you could manage to say, a deep grin plastered on his face.

“You’re close aren't you,” he cooed, attaching his lips to your neck, “talk to me baby, tell me what you're feeling.

“Mhm, yeah, fuck I’m so close baby. H-Harder.”

The pitch of your tone was becoming whinier by the second. To add to that, the way you became confused, as if Minho was a vampire, because the way he was sucking on your neck was kind of painful. Nevertheless, you relished in it, knowing too well that a very, very dark mark would replace his mouth. The idea of him showing his possession of you, knowing that he finally won you over did not make you happy, nonetheless, you were too fucked out to care.

Your legs were now pushed all the way back, pace fastening by the minute, allowing Minho to push even deeper into you. And that was it. Right there, the spot you had never even known was even there.

“Ah fuck!” Your moan was loud this time, completely unable to control anything. The smirk, in combination with the satisfied growl that left his lips was a face of pure ecstasy as he realised that he had finally hit your G-spot.

“Fuck that feels so fucking good,” Minho grumbled, “are you close? Because I think I’m gonna cum.”

It was like your stomach was an orchestra. Minho’s words were the conductor, completely controlling how close you were to your release.

“Y-yes,” you cried, “I’m gonna cum so hard right now.”

“You wanna cum baby?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna cum right now?”

“Yes baby,” you pouted, a perplexity of sounds escaping your lips, completely out of your control.

“Cum on my cock princess,” Minho whispered through what sounded to be like pained groans, “be a good girl and cum with me inside of you.”

And there it was, like it was on queue as your body completely flopped, legs shaking and a string of lewd curse words fell from your lips. The way your pussy clenched around him was enough to make him pull out, spilling into the dip of your stomach. A loud breath of what seemed to be exhaustion fell from his lips. Your eyes were previously screwed so shut, it hurt when you opened them again, sensitive to the light.

“Fuck,” you both cursed simultaneously, making one another giggle. Minho fell to your left side, flat on his back as he invited you to scooch over next to him. Face pressed against his chest, fingers playfully dragging up and down his torso. For some reason, he felt so safe and secure at this moment. Almost forgetting how he literally just fucked you into oblivion, your eyelids become heavy. It wasn’t until Minho spoke that you were revived from your alternate state of consciousness once more.

“I didn’t know you had it in you.” His voice sounded genuinely surprised, unsure if you should be offended or not. You looked up at him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He wasn’t sure how to react, but the dark shade tinting his face right now said enough.

“Please,” you scoffed, “You did me good, but was that the best you can do?”

He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, but down on it after, “Is that a challenge?”

You said nothing, instead sitting up and pushing your legs on either side of his hips. A soft moan escaped his lips as he felt your still dripping heat sitting on the base of him.

“Why don’t you find out and see?”

[rezzyromance]

Idk if this is how you request things or if it's just asking, BUT-

How would the Lords react to an S/O that's usually the chillest person that you will ever meet (not to be confused with a pushover because they are not), they've never seen them even mildly annoyed when something bad happens. But then something happens and, turns out, the S/O is utterly TERRIFYING when they're mad.

Hope this makes sense!

Aw man I'm gonna feel awful scaring Moreau and Donna :(

Alcina

You're relaxing on a beautiful morning. The sun is shining through the window just enough to warm the room but not hurt your eyes. You hadn't even changed out of your sleep wear. "How are you feeling, my dear?", a sweet voice rang from the doorway. You were sitting in your favorite chair near the window. You turn and smile at her. She walks over and rubs your face in her large hand before leaning down and giving you a soft kiss. "I'm feeling amazing. And you?", you grab her hand before she pulls it away and you place a kiss on her knuckles. "I'm feeling alright. There's a new maid here. She's a bit slow. I'm giving her until tonight to finish dusting the entire castle or else she won't see another sunrise." It was almost comedic how dark her words were as you both stared out the window and gazed at the beautiful scenery. "Come on Alcina.", you stand up and place your hands on hers, trying to hold them despite the size difference. "Give the girl a break. It's a huge castle AND it's her first day.", you knew your words would probably change nothing. Alcina was rather cruel, but you looked past it. You tried your best to make the nervous maids comfortable whenever they arrive.

"We'll see how she does." She gives you one more kiss before leaving the room. You sit back down in your chair, enjoying the warmth of the sun for a little while longer. You lose track of time, minutes maybe even hours go by. Suddenly, there's a crash not far from the door. You jump and stand up, no longer comfortable after being startled. "What in the name of Mother Miranda?!", you leave the room and look down the hallway. The new maid stood there with a terrified look on her face. In front of her was one of the paintings Alcina had on her walls, now with a broken frame and a hole punctured. Your blood began to boil. It was a painting of you, her, and the girls all together. It was your favorite. "How in the hell did you manage to do that?!", you begin to stomp towards her. She cowers and struggles to find her words. "I-I-I was just dusting! It fell and I-I didn't mean t-", you cut her off. "How the fuck did you knock such a large painting over just by dusting?! DO YOU THINK YOU'RE ALLOWED TO MAKE SUCH STUPID MISTAKES HERE?!", you unravel. "I-I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!", she almost begins to weep. "SORRY ISN'T GONNA SAVE YOUR ASS!"

"MISS DIMITRESCU PLEASE HELP!", she cries out. You freeze, realizing that the lady herself is right behind you. You turn to face her. Her eyes are wide with shock. She has never seen you like this before and never even knew you had this type of side to you. She was impressed as much as she was terrified. "(Y/N)? Are you alright my love?" She had no idea what to do as your seething slowed down. "Why don't you go back to the room, yes? Settle down a little and deal with her later.", she places a hand on your back helps walk with you back to the room. Once you're there, she bends down to whisper in your ear. "I don't know where this side of you has been this whole time, but I am so amazed by you. And also a little frightened."

Donna

The Beneviento house was usually a calm place despite its creepy aura. You and Donna are both quiet and chill people. Never once have you fought or even raised your voices at each other. It was pleasant.

You had planned a nice dinner for the both of you. You wanted to try out a new recipe and surprise her, so you made your way to the kitchen to get started. "Okay, what first? I guess I'll need a pot.", you go rummaging through the kitchen and you find the pots stacked within each other inside one of the top cabinets. You groan and stand up on your toes, grazing the pots with your fingers. It didn't take much to cause them to tumble down, crashing on top of you with a loud sound that followed. "Aw shit.", you sighed and picked up the knocked over pots. A small but annoying pain began to throb in your head from where it made contact with a pot. What you didn't notice was you forgot to pick one of the pots up. It remained unnoticed. "It's fine.", you say to yourself as you maintain your composure. Next, a cutting board and knife. You turn around and begin to walk forward to find the cutting board, but you slam your toe into counter. You wince in pain and grab your foot. "SON OF A BITCH!", you yell.

You calm yourself, still wanting to have a pleasant meal with Donna. "Alright. Everything's fine." You step forward and kick the pot that you had forgotten to pick up. It caused your freshly kicked toe to ache even more. "OH COME ON! GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!", you scream and swear as you throw your arms up in pure rage and shock.

"...(Y/N)?", a gentle voice whispered from the doorway, causing you to whip your head in that direction. It was Donna. She looked absolutely horrified and almost looked like she could cry. "Is.. is everything... are you alright?", she worried. "Yes. I'm sorry. Just got a little pissed off.", you took a deep breath to calm yourself down, feeling bad for scaring the poor girl.

Moreau

You were sitting on the dock together, looking into the water as your feet swung back and forth above it. It was a sunny day and you two decided to spend it outside. Your hand slowly made its way over to his. His feet stopped swinging for a second as you entangled your fingers. "I don't know what I'd do without you, (Y/N)." his words were bitter sweet as a gentle smile formed from his lips. "Oh, Sal. You don't have to think like that. I'll always be here for you.", you kiss his cheek and continue to relax as you sway your legs.

"There it is! There's the beast!", a voice yelled from not so far away. You both look in the direction of the voice and see a few young village boys. Possibly between the ages of 13 and 16. Moreau had become some what of a scary story for the villagers. A tale that kids spread on school court yard and bring up during dares. But, you've never seen a kid brave enough to actually make it far enough into the reservoir to actually see Moreau. Now, there were about 3. All of them stood and pointed, shocked and terrified.

"Hey beast! Come get me!", one kid teases. You glare at the kids as a newfound rage begins to boil inside you. "Let's go back inside.", Moreau says before standing up from the doc. The sadness in his voice was heartbreaking. Suddenly, one of the children gathers the guts to pick up a rock and throw it as hard as he could. His aim was off, but not by much. It slammed into the wood near Moreau's feet, startling him. "Take that you devil!", he laughs. "THAT'S IT YOU LITTLE SHIT!", you begin sprinting in the direction of the immature brats. Two of them run from the direction they came from while the one who threw the rock was frozen in fear. You took the opportunity to grab him by the collar of his shirt. "Listen here you little waste of space. I'm gonna give you 3 seconds to turn around and run for your goddamn life. If you or any of your little snot-nosed friends come around here again, they'll be goddamn fish food. Do you understand?" The kid was too scared to speak and instead began to nod rapidly. You let him go and watched as he ran as fast as he could, screaming the whole way.

You walk back to the shack and find Moreau standing in the same place he was when you took off. His mouth was agape and he looked almost as scared as the kids. "You alright Sal? I made sure those little shits won't be coming around here anymore." "Yeah... I didn't know you could be so... scary", he says. "I'm sorry. But those kids were being cruel. I had to do something.", you say. "Well... it was awesome!", he smiled. "But also very scary!" You laugh which helps sooth him a little.

Heisenberg

"Screw driver.", is all Karl said with an outstretched palm. He was working on some type of mechanical heart for his experiments. He wanted you to lend a "helping hand" even though he could easily do it all by himself. He did this because he wanted to be around you, he was just too stubborn with too big of an ego to simply say it. So here you were, handing him every little tool he asks for.

"Do you want the big one or the little one?", you say with a hint of boredom in your tone. "Aw c'mon don't sound like that! Isn't this exciting? It's like you're working on it with me! Also, hand me the big one.", you do as he says and hand him the big screw driver. "I just don't get it. You literally have powers. You can easily do this by yourself and have been for so long. Why do you need me to help?" He pauses for a second and looks over towards you, his brow slightly furrowed. "I don't NEED you to help. I just thought it would be nice for you to help out. Plus, you're the one always bitching about me constantly working. Well, here you are! Helping me work! So, either suck it up or you can leave." His harshness had no real ill will in it. He was just confused and a bit too ignorant to consider his words. But, he was testing your patience. He continued to use the screwdriver until handing it to you without saying a word.

"Hand me a screw.", he demanded with his hand facing palm up again. "Which size?" "They're all the same sizes, dumbass." You feel your blood begin to boil. "They're different fucking sizes! This one is smaller than this one!", you hold up two screws that are obviously different sizes. This makes Karl angry. Not because you were right, but because you seemed upset over something that seemed so insignificant.

"If you came here just to yap in my ear, then I don't think I need your assistance.", he huffed. You put the selection of tools and supplies he was making you hold on the table he is working on and ball your fists. "You're the one who told me to do this in the first place!", you yell. "Yeah, because you won't stop bitching! Non-stop you're always compla-" you cut him off before he can finish. "SHUT UP!", you yell. The room goes silent. "YOU SAY I'M BITCHING? HAVE YOU HEARD YOURSELF? JESUS FUCKING CHRIST KARL YOU BITCH AND MOAN ALL THE TIME! I'M DONE TAKING SHIT FROM YOU!" He wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. He felt something much more overwhelming. Was he.. intimidated? He didn't move from his seat. All he could do was look up at you with a confused expression. What now? What is there to do? If he pushes you further, what would happen? He was actually too scared to find out.

You take a deep breath to calm down before speaking. "Now, if you want me to help with your shit, I'll stay as long as you keep your mouth shut. Can you possibly manage to do that?" He gulps nervously. "Yes ma'am."

[yesimwriting]

The Needs of Pain

A/n as promised,,, here is my gift to you bc I finished ap gov today :))

The darkling x heartrender!reader story based on the whole ‘no one but me can hurt you’ thing :))

Warnings: sexual innuendos,, attempts to sexualize pain if you squint, kinda lemon-y

I kinda want to write a smutty part 2 let’s see lol 

Summary: after a training injury, Kirigan reveals how he views the dynamic of your relationship and figures out how to best help you work through the pian 

--

In an odd way, the most painful part of my injury had been the wound on my pride, not my shoulder. Though the pain that begins beneath my collarbone and continues down my left shoulder is not exactly pleasant. I can’t bring myself to pity myself too much as I stare at the extent of my burns. There’s a war going on. People die, people lose loved ones, I have to tolerate pain for an hour or two before a healer can be sent to be. 

I told Genya I’d be fine in the medical wing, but she insisted that I wait for a healer to be sent to me. The people here look up to me, if news of my injury got out, especially considering it’s a training wound, morale would take a blow we can’t currently afford. Genya had looked relatively sympathetic when she told me that many healers were occupied considering how difficult training had been and I had told her I could bear the weight. 

Now, in my room, staring at the basin full of water, I’m starting to regret my desire to be self sacrificing. I dip the towel in the water, squeezing out the excess before daring to dab the fabric on the outer edge of the wound. The feeling is fire against my skin all over again. An instinctual curse leaves me as I drop the towel on the counter that surrounds the basin. 

Arthur hadn’t meant it. I can still hear the frantic apologies tumbling from his full lips. He should have been more focused on the task at hand, he should have never stopped to look at me, at the way I could control so many living things at once. In some odd sense, his distraction had been a compliment. Many of the girls here would sell anything to have Arthur’s attention, even if it resulted in such a careless mistake. 

I grimace, picking up the towel and preparing to start again. I should at least clean it before the healers have to deal with both a physical injury and an infection. The sound of my door flying open and then shutting angrily is enough of a distraction for me to accidentally dab the towel against my skin too harshly. I curse again, turning my head towards the bathroom door. Did Genya exaggerate the severity of my wound? Are the healers that desperate to get to me? 

I turn on my toes, towel forgotten by the basen full of water as I approach the door that connects my room with the bathroom. “I’m--” Words meant to calm a frantic healer stick to the back of my throat as soon as I register all the black in the room. General Kirigan. Great. He no doubt heard about my injury after prying it from Genya and now he’s here to scold me for the childishness of it all. To be injured because a boy and I just couldn’t help ‘make eyes at each other’. All he does is insult my refusal to become bitter just because I was born possessing power. 

“You’re what?” His words are a different level of callous, darker than the shadows he creates with the will of his mind alone. “An idiot that let herself be sent back to her room instead of demanding to see a healer?” 

That’s an odd thing for him to focus his anger on. At least it’s not fully directed at me. On instinct, I half turn, attempting to hide my injury from his piercing eyes. My instinct tells me he should never see me so mortal. “Genya recommended it,” my words are determined yet calm, “It’s such a small injury it isn’t worth risking everyone’s morale. A healer will come here when one is available.” 

His face tightens in what must be some kind of disgusted disbelief. “Foolish girl--have you no instinct for preservation?” 

Every decision I’ve made since being injured made sense before he spoke to me. The fierceness of his voice leaves my face warmer than it was a moment ago and reminds me of the stem of my dislike for him. General Kirigan speaks and I am left a clumsy child. “Some things are more important than one’s self.” I expect he’ll turn that into something else to mock or belittle about me. “And it’s not a grave injury it’s barely--” 

The distance between us seemed so great less than a second ago, but he’s closed it so quickly, grabbing my left wrist and extending my arm forward so that I can’t hide anything from him. “You’re burned.” There’s the slightest bit of surprise coloring his words along with something else I can’t interpret. “How did you get burned?” 

Kirigan doesn’t know. My stomach knots, anticipating embarrassment. “Training incident--I was standing too close to an Inferni.” 

His grip on my arm tightens. I grimace as he pulls me forward with no regard for my injury. “Who?” The voracious way he says the word leaves my thoughts trembling. He is a void of darkness, starving for a victim to snuff the light out of.  

When my thoughts settle, I cannot bring myself to tell him the truth. “I didn’t see, I was distracted by the burning.” I exhale slowly, desperate to escape the flames behind his eyes the way I could not escape the fire of earlier. “It doesn’t matter, I’ve been injured worse in training.” His hold on my arm doesn’t loosen, I glance down at his hand, his firm grip on me somehow worse than the burn. “You’ve injured me worse in training.” 

“I may push you, exhaust you, and leave you mad--but I have never done anything that comes close to--that!” The last of his words carry themselves louder than the rest. 

If the skin of my shoulder wasn’t so sensitive I’d try fighting his tightening grasp. The accusation on my part had been a little much, but it was meant to serve as a reminder that he’s not one to care about my comfort or well being. “Why does it matter?” I can’t bring myself to meet his gaze. “You’ve never cared about any of my injuries before.” 

Kirigan releases my arm in a stiff trance, raising his hand to brush his thumb down my cheek. The contact is reminiscent of an extremely different moment. “The first night here you only let a few tears escape you when you were convinced that no one could see them. Do you remember how I turned and wordlessly wiped them away?” His gesture had not been comforting then and it isn’t comforting now. He never wanted to comfort me, he wanted to assert some strange power over me. “I let those tears fall because they were because of me and I knew it was for the best.” I say nothing, letting his thumb ghost tears that will not come. “The moment I discovered you, what you could be, you became mine.” 

“I am no one’s.” The reaction is instinctual, a pride my mother instilled in me. My voice is too loud, too brash. “I am my own.” 

I brace myself for his anger, but all I receive is the slight relaxation of his lips. “It’s things like that give you so much potential in other ways.” His voice is a jagged rock caressing my skin, not minding the scrapes it leaves behind. “You’re a fair plaything, as well as useful.”  

He’s speaking so gently his voice borders on vulnerable. Something in me warms, but I can’t tell why. I know that Kirigan finds joy in my discomfort--why else would he belittle me so often? “The healer will be here soon.” 

“Yes,” he makes no move to leave, instead Kirigan grabs my wrist again, forcing me to turn so that he can analyze the extent of my burn, “Which is why I will ask you again…” I try to catch his gaze, but his stone stare is focused on my burned shoulder entirely. “Who did this?” 

“I told you.” He can never know. “It was a training accident.” 

“And someone is responsible.” 

I let out a breath, tired of feeling so incomplete. I just want to be healed and go to sleep. “Why does it matter?” His fingers trail up my arm patiently, my body betrays me by shivering. “Accidents happen, you’ve put me in more risk than--” 

“I’ve always intended to break you one way or another,” his voice is more supple than it’s ever been before, “Your goodness is too tempting to not tarnish.” He turns my wrist over easily, ignoring my slight wince. “But if someone else were to do it…” Kirigan trails off, expression tightening in a way I can’t read, “I don’t let others break my play things.” 

Some strange resolve in my chest cracks at that. “Kirigan--” 

“Who are you protecting?” He moves his free hand, placing it without reservation on my shoulder. “Not telling me will only make it worse.” 

Thoughts of Arthur paying for such a small mistake leaves my stomach rolling in guilt. “Make what worse?” 

His expression tightens again. I wait for some kind of rebuke. Kirigan’s lips part as if he expects to criticize my naivety, but instead of speaking he turns sharply. He doesn't release his grip on my wrist as he leads me into my bathroom. 

“What are you doing?” 

Kirigan ignores my surprise, releasing me to pick up the towel I was so quick to abandon. “If you’re too good to take a healer from someone, you should at least avoid infection.” 

“I’m not an idiot, I was cleaning it.” The sharpness of my tone is ignored, Kirigan simply places one hand on my forearm to keep me in place. “Wha--”

 He brushes his thumb over my pulse gently in an effective attempt to silence me. I part my lips in hopes of protesting, but something odd reflects across his eyes. It must be some trick of the light because his expression seems...hesitant. Maybe even concerned. And then cool fabric is pressed into my burn. I bite my tongue so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t bleed. 

“Saints.” 

His expression shifts to that of almost amusement. “I think I’d like to hear you curse in a,” he exhales softly, fingertips trailing up my forearm, “Slightly different scenario.” 

The shock of such a bold innuendo clears my mind from thoughts of pain. But the most startling thing is that the innuendo isn’t entirely unwanted. In the wake of my surprise, he presses the wet towel into my wound again. I fight against a grimace, but that doesn’t go unnoticed by Kirigan. Instead of mentioning it, his free arm touches my uninjured shoulder. For the first time since he’s come here I’m aware of how improper my attire is. I changed out of my starched kefta and into a silk nightgown in order to leave my shoulder unbothered. Genya had helped me change, bearing all of my grimacing and pained curses. 

I should push him off of me. Kirigan can get away with a lot because of his status, but I by no means have to allow something like this. I should not feel shy, I should not be embarrassed. He’s the one that’s out of line. I look up into his eyes, prepared to yell at him for being so out of line. But when I meet his eyes, I see something so un-monstrous I am left breathless. There’s a gentleness to the way he tilts his head downwards, eyes never leaving mine. Is he asking for permission? Permission to--to what? I stay frozen as his lips brush against the unmarred side of my collarbone. His touch is almost enough to make me forget pain ever existed. He pulls away enough that I can feel his breath against the base of my neck. Thoughts I’d never dare speak are banished as the towel presses against my skin again. My face cringes immediately, but he’s quick to press his lips to the base of my neck, lingering kisses melting into my skin. 

“I thought you said you were fine.” His chiding is half-hearted, whispered between two brief kisses against my bare ski. 

He dabs the towel on the burn again, but before I can think to complain, his lips are against my skin again. This time, his lips part slightly allowing his teeth to graze over my pulse. Kirigan pulls away slightly, expression hardening, “I’m almost sorry about this part.” His words leave him in a whisper as influential as sin. 

“What part?” My voice feels foreign in my throat. 

Kirigan doesn’t reply, but then I feel the sharpest pain yet. The towel is cleaning the worst of the burn, the ruined patch of skin that will never recover without supernatural intervention. The gasp I let out is that of a bird with shattered wings. A cry forms in the base of my throat, but before it can leave me, Kirigan’s teeth bite into the skin above my pulse. The pained sound is reduced by my shock, twisting in an odd combination of some kind of pained sound and something dangerously close to a moan. 

He releases me with one last soft brush of his lips, straightening his back and retracting the towel. “There.” Kirigan drops the towel onto the bathroom counter. “It wasn’t that bad, was it?”

I can still feel the ghost of his lips, tongue, and teeth against my skin. I understand now. Each kiss had been a way to distract me, to lessen the pain. Something odd swells in my chest as I try to will my eyes to stop watering in pain. 

Kirigan presses his lips together, pressing his hand against my cheek again. His thumb brushes the few stray tears that escape me. “Don’t cry,” his tone is pure velvet, “I won’t tolerate tears in your eyes caused by anyone else.” He tilts his head oddly, hand sliding down my cheek before gripping my jaw, “I can provide reason for your tears if you’d like.” 

Inhaling deeply, I continue to stare at him. Today has been so sudden. He’s flirted with me through strangely sexual insults and threats before, but never has he been so forward about it. 

“I’m fine,” I force my voice to remain clear. He nods once. A soft rap at my door has me turning away from him. “The healer--I shoul--” 

“Come in,” he calls, voice clear and leaving no room for argument. 

My eyes widen. To be caught with him here could be detrimental for my reputation. Kirigan pulls away, something sharp playing at his features, something almost humorous. 

He leaves the bathroom like this is his own room. “Her wound is clean, work quickly.” I walk out of the bathroom in a strange trance. Kirigan’s gaze lands on me as I enter the main part of my room, “I need her at her full strength for what I have planned.” 

There’s a heaviness to his words, a weight that tells me he means more than what his words imply. Goosebumps erupt across my skin as I try to banish the thoughts of his mouth against my skin between inflictions of pain, blending together to create the most intense sense of fight or flight I’ve ever experienced. 

Kirigan begins to approach the door to my room. “I’ll be checking on her later.”

--

People that asked to be tagged in this/expressed interest:

@luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy @i-padfootblack-things @all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @uhanddreag  

@we-love-our-bandz 

[2-the-moon-and-2-saturn]

when sunlight wanes

(also on ao3 if u wanna go there :)

There are many benefits to having watched The Wizard of Oz as many times as Kara did growing up, but at the moment she would say that the absolute best thing about it is her consequential ability to run the dialogue and soundtrack in her mind instead of disturbing the peacefulness that comes with being awake at three in the morning – when the noises she has to worry about are so relatively insignificant, it takes almost no effort to hear her own thoughts.

Even so, in the quiet stillness of the night, it’s not long before whispers of ruffling curtains and lazy yawning tickle her ears as half-awake steps emerge from their bedroom, trailing towards the couch. It’s not much of a surprise, either – neither her nor Lena do very well sleeping without one another.

So, when her girlfriend sits down directly behind her – arms snaked around the blonde’s middle as her chin finds its home in the crook of her neck, – there are no words needed. Kara just sinks into the contact, takes in the scent of home, and lets their breathing sync together. Runs her hands across sleep-warm forearms before interlacing fingers with ever-chilly ones, and bringjng a pale hand up to her lips – a kiss on its palm in form of greeting.

She lets herself think of soulmates, of feeling whole, and of all the other things she would believe Lena thinks its bullshit were it not for the way her eyes glow when Kara talks about it, and talks about them, as if the two were synonyms that could be used interchangeably in the most beautiful of poems.

Anyways, she’s rambling now.

The point is: it’s nearly morning, Dorothy and Toto are following the Yellow Brick Road, and Lena and Kara are lost in bliss and the perfect balance between holding and being held. And for a while, that’s all they need.

But she’s not surprised, either, when Lena’s lips meet her shoulder in the gentlest of kisses before her girlfriend settles back into her previous position and exhales softly, arms tightening nearly imperceptibly around the Kryptonian.

“We were getting better at this,” she murmurs eventually; not hesitant or scared to bring it up – not after everything they’ve been through, – but calm. Calm in her concern, calm in her love, calm even in the slight disappointment Kara knows she must feel at not having been reached out to.

“I’m sorry,” the blonde sighs, straightening her spine and thumbing over knuckles that lay under her own. “It was just- it wasn’t that bad, and you’ve had such a tiring week, and-and we have so much to do in the next few days, it just seemed kind of silly-“

“Darling,” Lena pauses the movie, then rearranges her position on the couch until she can find her girlfriend’s eyes without breaking off their embrace. The green of them is piercing in its inquisition. Safe, but almost painful to look at. Like Kara knows it’s determined to break down too many walls on its quest to heal the wounds in her soul. As though healing is possible, but it will bring her so much pain, she finds herself wondering if it’s even worth it. “Do you want me here?”

But the green of those eyes is also the color she loves most, and to be untruthful before such beauty is a crime Kara has vowed never to commit again. So, maybe she can’t bear the weight of Lena’s gaze as she admits vulnerability, but Kara nods in confirmation anyway. Even if she needs to look away in order to do so.

“Then I don’t care,” the youngest Luthor points out, tucking a strand of golden hair behind Kara’s left ear, then cupping her cheek as her thumb draws featherlight patterns on the skin there. “This isn’t a one-way street.” Kara leans into it. “You look after me, I look after you. That’s the deal.”

“I know,” she deflates, eyes downcast. Because those are the rules. Unspoken, but present long before confessions of love and promises of forever, then officially set in place when they both realized just how inexperienced they were at this whole permanence thing.

Still, though.

That doesn’t mean they’re easy to follow.

“I’m trying,” she looks up apologetically.

And Lena… Lena comes impossibly closer, then plants a kiss on her forehead. “I know you are,” she breathes out the soft words, before kissing her again and retreating with an even softer smile, like it doesn’t matter that Kara is invulnerable.

Though of course, after that, Kara isn’t.

Her eyes fill up with tears that are promptly wiped away, two pale hands now cradling the superhero’s face as Kara’s fiddle with the ends of Lena’s sweater.

“It’s so stupid,” her voice makes its way through the knot in her throat, and she wants to scream at the uselessness of it all. Agitation gradually takes over as the anger she’s been quelling finds its way back up to the surface, so the Kryptonian disentangles herself from the very accidentally-breakable human she loves.

It feels wrong. And lonely. And typical.

“It happened, there’s nothing I can do about it,” she gets off the couch and starts pacing almost on default. “Besides, not all of Krypton is gone anyways, so I just don’t see why I can’t move on and stop dreaming about it. They were there, I wasn’t. I don’t get to-“

“Don’t say that,“ Lena’s tone is protective. She never did stand down when anyone was unfair to Kara. “This isn’t a trauma competition. You know that’s not how it works.”

“They’re happy, Lena,” Kara exclaims, big, pleading eyes. “And not like we’re happy. They’re…” she scoffs, “carefree. They felt the ground shake apart as the rest of the world blew to pieces, and it’s like it left no mark whatsoever on them.”

“Maybe,” her girlfriend gathers her hands on top of her knees and leans forward ever so slightly. In the past, especially before, Kara’s been on the receiving end of a gaze similar to this – when Lena will stop at nothing to make herself heard, – but there’s more to it, too. There’s that gentleness that’s reserved only for Kara, that unconditional understanding that never fails to ground her. “Or maybe they have nightmares about it that might never really go away.”

The thing about that gaze, though, is that in moments like this, it’s also very efficient at bringing tears to the Kryptonian’s eyes. Kara turns around, brings the back of her hand up to her face in an attempt to wipe off the flow of emotions that keeps coming.

She hates it.

Two hands settle on her shoulder, thumbs stroking the skin there, but make no move other than that. It’s Lena, Kara reminds herself. She doesn’t have to be strong with Lena. She gets to fall apart.

When the Girl of Steel turns around, crumbling under shimmering green, she leans into it.

One hand snakes around her waist to pull her close, while the other comes up to cradle the back of her head. With her face buried into the crook of Lena’s neck and her hands clinging on to the woman who shelters her heart, she lets it bleed.

You will do extraordinary things, her mother had said. Of course, she never got to tell her that she would have done anything to be mediocre.

I won’t fail Kal-El, or you, and then the shockwave from Krypton’s demise hit her pod, and she broke her promise for the first time.

Sound doesn’t travel in space, which means the crack she heard as her world crumbled to pieces must have come from herself. And as Kara watches it play out from her pod’s rearview mirror for the nth time, she crumbles down as well. Only, this time, Lena is there to catch her.

Lena, who keeps whispering I’m right here, and It’s okay, I’ve got you, and countless other reassurances that prove to Kara that her story may be one of devastating loss, but it has also gifted her with treasures beyond her comprehension.

She doesn’t know how long she spends crumpled up into Lena on the floor of their apartment, its once-silent atmosphere now filled with body-wracking sobs and trembling hands that grab onto her girlfriend’s sweatshirt probably way more tightly than its fabric was made to withstand, as well as paradoxal pleas that Lena get back so she won’t hurt her, which only get those arms to pull her impossibly closer.

And she needs it.

Kara knows she needs moments like this, but it’s dangerous. It’s terrifying, because for all her abilities, the one thing she seems to do best at is losing people. And she doesn’t know what she will do if she loses this.

If she loses Lena.

“You won’t,” the woman’s hands are cradling her face now, desperate green eyes piercing into hers, and that’s when Kara realizes she’s been repeating I can’t lose you, over and over again. “Kara, I need you to listen to me, alright? You won’t lose me. I’m here with you. I’m staying.”

The woman who was once believed to be the Last Daughter of Krypton doesn’t have the heart to tell her there is no way she could possibly control that. The youngest Luthor leans closer, forehead resting against her own as two pairs of eyes let go of desolate tears, together.

“Darling, I will never leave your side,” Lena whispers her reassurance, bittersweet against the knowledge of how flimsily a promise like this holds when faced with the wrong circumstances. Of course they know – how could they not?

They choose to bask in it, anyway.

Because they can, for a little while.

And how absolutely extraordinary is that?

Her emotions settle down a bit after that. They watch the rest of the movie – Kara sitting between Lena’s legs, cuddled into her chest as she lets the sound of her girlfriend’s heartbeat lull her into a serene sort of heartache. When the credits roll, Lena tightens the grip of her left arm which has been wrapped protectively around the blonde’s middle, and pauses the movement of her left hand, which has been languidly stroking Kara’s hair.

She lets out a disgruntled noise at that, but Lena’s thumb brushes against her cheek, so delicate Kara almost thinks she’s imagining it, then soft whispers follow.

“Darling, are you still awake?”

In response, Kara mumbles incoherently and burrows deeper into the safety of her girlfriend’s embrace. A moment after Lena chuckles softly at the blonde’s sleepy indignance, her fingers go back to slowly untangling the mess that Kara’s hair has become.

“Are you aware of how astounding you are?” Lena continues, voice low and musing, almost as if she doesn’t really mind whether Kara is listening or not, wants to say it all the same. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t tell you enough,” she confesses. “It’s no secret that I’m not very good at saying how I feel.” A wet chuckle. If Kara opened her eyes, she’d find her face being inspected by adoring green eyes. It’s okay that she doesn’t, though, because everything about Lena exhales unabashed love right now.

“But you are so, so precious, my love. You are strong, and kind, and you have this beaming grin – oh, I wish you could see it.” Featherlight, her fingers trace Kara’s features as she speaks; the outline of her eyebrow, the dry tear tracks ok her cheek, the outside of her bottom lip. “D’you know, the smile itself isn’t even the best part? It’s your eyes. There’s a glow to them that makes it seem like, for a moment, all of that yellow sun energy that courses through you is shared with the outside world, and everything feels brighter, and whatever one hopes for feels closer to the realm of possibility. It’s… ethereal. I can’t imagine anyone being immune to that. And I’m pretty sure it’s what first roped me in – having had the privilege to experience that.”

By now, Kara’s tear ducts have made an excellent job of welling up the space behind her closed eyelids, but she doesn’t dare move – the way her fist reflexively tightens around the NCU sweatshirt that’s been long claimed by her girlfriend, the only indication that she’s conscious at all.

Lena lets out an adoring breath, the one that seems to be reserved for Kara and Kara alone, then adjusts her arms so the blonde will be cradled even more closely into her middle, if that’s possible.

“Now, you should listen closely, because this is the most important part: you’re like our own piece of the Sun, everyone can see that. But that’s not what made me fall in love with you. You, Kara Zor-El, stole my heart with the contrast you hold between light and darkness. That complexity in your story – the fact that you have such frightening demons, yet you persevere? That gave me strength to believe I could do the same.

“So, I know you feel the need to be strong in face of the world and the people you love – I know it’s one of the ways you try to protect us – but you don’t have to be strong with me. I love your heart in its entirety, and whatever it goes through, I want to be here. If it breaks, I want to help you mend it. If it’s clad in scars, I want to kiss them. And if old wounds reopen in the face of adverse conditions, I want to be here to nurse it back to health. I want to be by your side through it all.”

Kara finally opens her glistening eyes and looks up at her girlfriend, finding that Lena’s aren’t much better off. The Kryptonian moves to tuck a stray lock of raven hair behind the youngest Luthor’s ear, smirks affectionately, and then-

“I thought the heart was ‘merely a blood-pumping muscle, wholly unrelated to emotional matters’,” she quotes the discussion from a few movie nights ago.

Lena laughs, a delicate, yet indignant thing.

“I cannot believe you just destroyed the mood by bringing up a point that I wasn’t even the one to make!”

“You agreed with him, that was enough,” Kara giggles, grinning wide, and she wonders if what Lena described is happening right now.

Maybe it’s their way of dealing with the emotionally charged past few hours that cause the couple to find themselves in a fit of laughter which ends up tightening the knot that’s been lodged in Kara’s throat just enough. When tears roll down her cheeks again, Lena tenderly wipes them, and when glossy green eyes set free tears of their own, Kara is the one to wipe those.

“I love you so much,” is all she’s able to say – the pressure in her temples and exhaustion finally hitting full force, – but given her girlfriend’s tight-lipped smile, hurried nod, and kiss to Kara’s forehead as she tries not to cry any further, it’s enough.

They don’t go back to bed that night, too comfortable in their arrangement to move even an inch. Instead, Kara settles back into the crook of her girlfriend’s neck, Lena’s fingers resume stroking golden hair, and for a few minutes, tears flow freely, quietly.

As the Sun rises behind the living room window, their hearts beat in unison, and their slowing breathing aligns. It’s safe to say neither Catco’s Editor-in-Chief, nor the Foundation’s CEO will be able to work more than a half-day this Tuesday.

Nodding off to tranquility seeping through her bones and peace surrounding her in a warm hug, Kara can’t find it in herself to care.

[wincore]

romeo roulette | jung yoonoh

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

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

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

words: 21.2k

warnings: language

song recs: playlist here !

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

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

Jung Yoonoh. Get your act together.

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

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

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

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

This whole charade dates its beginning to a week ago. 

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

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

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

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

“And I get what out of this?”

“Me? Temporarily, that is.”

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

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

“Wait!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll ask Doyoung if you say no.”

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

“I really will ask him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

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

“On one condition.”

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

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

“No way.”

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

You stare at him, weighing the odds. 

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

Jaehyun shrugs.

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

You mutter the last part.

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

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

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

“We have an agreement,” he repeats.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You should." You glare at her.

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

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

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

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

"Yeah," Sicheng mutters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Literally what I just said," Soojin says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sigh. “Man, I feel bad for him.”

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

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

You gasp. “Is it me? It’s me, right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You raise an eyebrow. “So?”

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

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

“Hey. Professional,” Soojin warns.

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

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

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

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

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

“Shh. What if they hear us?”

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

You huff, crossing your arms. “Still…”

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

“Your acting was shit though,” you snipe.

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you headed to?” You ask.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, the sweet summer child that Dongmin is.

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

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

“—Around ten minutes left.”

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

“That sounds like a load of—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You giggle. "Alright, handsome."

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

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

“What do you mean, baby?”

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

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

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

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

“You think you’re so—”

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

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

“Don’t say a word, Yoonoh.”

“Ooh, you’re saying my name now.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“I find it plenty funny.”

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

“Mhm.”

“Don’t look so smug.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You roll your eyes. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you mutter.

He raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

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

He laughs. “What are we, in college?”

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

“Wrong,” he emphasizes, face leaning closer. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun looks down. “Ginseng extract.”

“Oh, the gift pack?” Doyoung asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The two of you look at each other.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh? CEO? I’m sorry?” you manage. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Dammit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I charge by the hour.” He smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

“Like what?”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry, what? I didn’t catch that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, yes or no?”

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

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

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

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

“No,” he says with clear emphasis. 

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

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

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

Jaehyun shakes his head, smiling through his hand. 

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

He sighs. “Maybe. Have you?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

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

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

“Definitely.”

He scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips.

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

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

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

“It’s not officially there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“They’re both the same thing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You saved me,” you say, smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smile. “Thanks, Soojin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You clearly liked it,” he mutters. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look at her, puzzled.

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

“Don’t give me that cr—”

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

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

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

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

“Of course it is,” you mutter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There.”

“It’s hot in here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He does?”

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

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

“Hm. Funny coincidence.”

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

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

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

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

“For what? Being perfect and successful?”

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

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

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

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

“I’m so sorry!”

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

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

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

“What are you talking about?”

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

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

“Sorry,” he responds quietly. 

There’s a pause.

“Did you just kiss me right now?”

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

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

“What are you implying?” 

“You wanted to kiss me.”

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe it won’t.

"Never heard that before."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, not exac—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Life strikes again with its poorly timed irony.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You just stick out your tongue at him subtly.

“I told you we’d win,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, me too,” Jaehyun agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun pauses before humming in realization.

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

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

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

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

“Too?”

“Shut up.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think people in love are always brave.”

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

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

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

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

“Sicheng rubbed off on me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "So?"

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

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

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

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

"Everyone needs mints, Jaehyun. Especially men."

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

"Have this mint or else."

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

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

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

"By me, right?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Huh. You might be right about that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“So I’m right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What do lovers do anyway?

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

You don’t mind it one bit.

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

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

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

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

You let out another huff of complaint.

"Does everything have to be heart-shaped?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You faltered for a moment there.”

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

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

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

“Wow, you must be a masochist.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe you enjoy my company?”

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

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

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

“And chill?”

“Do you even know what that means?”

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

You inhale, an idea presenting itself.  

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

“No.”

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

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

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

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers suddenly.

“Yes,” you answer.

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

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

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

“It’s pretty,” he whispers.

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

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

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

You exhale.

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

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

“Jaehyun—”

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun pulls apart and you miss the warmth.

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

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

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

“I’m sorry” is all you can say.

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

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

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

Because misery likes company.

“I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm? Show me?” He blinks at you. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Dongmin.”

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

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

“That’s- That’s my—what is this?”

Russian roulette is certainly not the same without a gun.

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

His initial shock seems to have partly subsided.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Into this loveless hell made for you.

“(name).”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dongmin takes a sharp breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come with me,” Dongmin tells you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You point from him to yourself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh no. You know where this is going.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows in a question look. 

“That’s not important! Look—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t care what anyone says.” He runs his thumb over your cheek in a painfully fond manner. “You’re worth more than the price I pay for this.”

He leans in and presses his lips to yours swiftly, your head clearing of thoughts almost immediately. It feels so right, you can feel the spark, the red thread around your skin, hear the bells. This kiss was far more perfect than it was supposed to be.

You part, gasping. Jaehyun blinks at you, breathing heavily.

“Kiss me again.”

Jaehyun does as told and you might just believe in miracles this way. With his hand around your waist and in your hair, his lips over yours and the low rumbling laughter that parts the two of you—you might just believe in miracles. You might just believe that love isn't something you deserve by earning.

“I like this,” Jaehyun comments. “I like the way this is.”

You press your finger to his lips. “I think you should shut up and kiss me some more.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “I know you’re sexually repressed as of now, but that’s no reason to take advantage of me.”

You scowl, punching him on the shoulder and moving away from him.

“Come back,” he complains in a quiet voice.

“I am not going to do that.” You cross your arms.

“Come on,” he mutters, inching closer as you inch away, till your back hits the couch and you tumble backwards onto it, your legs on the headrest. Jaehyun laughs at your position, leaning in to keep his hands on either side of you, a doting look over him.

“Hey, did you know if I kicked my leg up, it would hit you in the balls?”

“Please don’t do that.”

You giggle, Jaehyun’s nose rubbing against yours in a bunny kiss. 

“Is your place usually this much of a mess?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. 

You sigh heavily. “I was having a bad day, okay? Or… a bad weekend.”

“Do you even have food?”

You look away, crossing your arms. Jaehyun sighs and shakes his head.

“We should go grocery shopping. How do you live like this?”

You scoff. “Oh, spare me the lecture. I’ve heard enough horror stories about your room from Sicheng. You can’t hide from me by sweeping your clothes and belongings into his room.”

“Snitch,” he mutters under his breath.

You can’t help the giggle that erupts from your mouth and you immediately cover it. Jaehyun smiles at you fondly and you look away, unable to bear that gaze of his.

“It really won’t wash off, by the way,” Jaehyun states, scratching at his collarbone.

You narrow your eyes, smacking his arms away to roll off the couch. Taking his wrist, you walk into your bathroom and turn the tap on. Something’s strange. But also strangely right.

“Look, I already tried—ow! Don’t rub that hard!”

You blink in confusion, trying again despite Jaehyun looking like his soul already left him. It doesn’t work. Your marker isn’t even that permanent. At least his regenerating skin cells should get rid of that arrow. Unless the ink was deep enough to pierce all the layers, as in a soulmark.

You gasp.

“You were right!”

“I told you s—”

"That's the point, isn't it?" you say, realization dawning as your eyes widen. "To see if people will question the system at all."

Jaehyun shrugs. “Maybe.”

"Oh, all those unhappy marriages that could have been saved," you say as you exhale. 

Jaehyun chuckles lightly. "I think that the point was, people can be happy without their soulmates. It's whoever you make one out of. Or I Googled too many articles on anti-soulmate propaganda."

You smile, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. Watching his ears turn bright red is the cherry on top.

“Okay, fake-boyfriend-turned-real-soulmate.” You give him a cheeky smile. “Did you rethink your decision about sharing that Netflix password with me? I get the girlfriend free pass, right? Right?”

“I didn’t even share it with my mother.”

You whack his arm, him possibly used to it by now, judging from his lack of response. 

“Idiot.” You cross your arms. “We can Netflix… and chill then. God, I can’t believe I said that.”

Jaehyun breaks into a chuckle. “You’re so pushy.”

 “And you like being pushed around, nerd.”

“Who said that?”

Jaehyun wraps his arms around you, spinning you so that your back hits the door. He leans in to kiss you again and you smack your palm over his pouted lips. You laugh at his face, his eyes brimming with confusion.

“You’re in my apartment. I make the rules here. Think twice before you start a game with me, Mister.”

His shoulders droop. “Fine. Can you at least let me kiss you four times a day?”

“Five times, if you ask.”

He laughs before leaning in again. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“You are one hell of a woman. Emphasis on hell.”

You laugh and grab his collar, pulling him in for the kiss that seals this deal.

You realize a few things in the moment: a) You don’t have to play roulette to find love, b) You don’t have to pick your poison to find love, and most importantly c) Love is right where you make something of it. Fate is still not in your good books but if it bends to you this way, you don’t mind at all. If Jaehyun kisses you like this every day, you don’t mind one bit. 

[klaissance]

and then the paladins ARRIVE the doors swing open and there's a wave of interest across the room because the paladins of voltron are lowkey a big deal

keith scans them all briefly feeling simultaneously more whole than he has in months and also so blasted to smithereens it's insane

his eyes fall on lance and he physically cannot tear himself away

drinking in the sight of him like a man in the desert

allura is clowning on him so bad and he doesn't even care he's down so BAD

lance is actually a little shy, hasn't made eye contact with keith just yet

he did a scan of the room, knows keith is there, can guess he's probably looking

but it's that thing where you haven't seen your partner in so long and you're a little afraid to find out if something has changed or not, feeling queasy like they're a stranger, and it's silly but the butterflies dont care to be rational about it

so lance is running his hand through his hair repeatedly and fiddling with his fingers and looking back and forth between hunk and pidge like a lifeline

hunk is here for the drama he clocks keith Fast and is like dude,,,, he's so in love with you omg

lance has that funny feeling though and maybe doesn't want to crowd keith, steers the group of himself hunk and pidge towards a table with snacks and other important people to make conversation with instead

and lance is good at this part, loves this part of saving the Universe, but tonight he is flighty and distracted because his every atom knows keith is Right Over There In This Very Room Oh My God

keith's mouth has gone dry doesn't remember how to blink he's actually so fucked

finally, finally they make eye contact across the room

and that funny nervous buzzing melts away into Warm and Good and I Missed You and it is suddenly very clear that they have to go be together right now immediately and everything will be okay, that the time spent apart didn't change anything

but wait ! the dinner is officially starting people are being directed to their seats ! oh no !

lance makes nice with whoever it is who's next to him but keeps looking down and across the table at keith

keith is useless he just looks at lance the entire time

hunk is kicking his feet giggling pidge is fake retching

shiro is dragging a hand down his face because jesus christ keith ur actually so embarrassing

allura clears her throat and rises to stand at the head of the table, all eyes on her

she's about to start the first of her prepared remarks when suddenly lance is also standing

she blinks at him and he blinks back and everybody at the whole event is glancing back and forth between them

she's like "...yes, lance?" but not in a judgy way that's her bestie she just wants to know what he wants

lance also would love to know why he stood up he's not really sure ngl did not think this one through

he looks at keith and down at his hands and up at allura and back at keith

hunk is holding his breath pidge is covering her mouth with both hands shiro might just pull his hair out he should be at the CLUB

lance goes "one sec 'lura" and then he's stepping aside, grabbing the back of his chair, and starts dragging it with him as he marches down the length of the table

IT MAKES THAT TERRIBLE SQUEAKING SOUND AS IT DRAGS THE WHOLE WAY

IT'S SO AWFUL EVERY JAW IS ON THE FLOOR

THE PALADINS ARE DYING PIDGE IS CRYING REAL TEARS SHE'S TRYING SO HARD NOT TO CACKLE

keith's jaw is also on the floor as he watches his boyfriend round the far corner of the table and continue in his direction

allura is biting down something fierce on her lower lip god she loves them so much

lance finally, finally arrives near where keith is sitting and bends down to whisper to the alien next to him, asking them to please scootch over just a tad thank you so much

it's literally so awkward

keith is grinning so hard it hurts even though he's pretty sure hunk is videoing this whole thing from across the table

lance wedges his chair in next to keith's and plops down

hasn't even really acknowledged keith yet but they're so close their thighs are pressed together

lance just smiles up at allura and is like "alright carry on" angel emoji prayer hands emoji

indulgent established klance long-distance boyfriends coalition paladins/BOM keith reunion event GO:

keith gets to the dinner early

he had to ask kolivan to put him on the list as one of the BOM agents going and if that dude ever laughed at anything keith would swear he was laughing at him when he uninvited somebody else to put keith on the list

it's this gorgeous bigass hall with lovely vaulted ceilings and the biggest longest table keith has ever seen

aproned aliens are in set-up mode, scurrying around setting utensils and plates and namecards and chairs all around this table

keith has his mask up and everything and he nods respectfully at some of the staff as he starts to walk the length of the table

it's been too long since he saw the team he knows that and they know it too

he knows they miss him, knows it in his bones that they miss him at least some fragment as much as he aches for them (which is so much all the time)

pidge hacked a touchpad to let it transmit through the signal jammer outfitted at the BOM base so he does get to message and call home sometimes but tbh he's not on-base very often before he's jetting off to the next crazy mission halfway across the galaxy

anyway he's in this hall scanning the namecards and letting his mind wander while he waits for the guests--but mostly his former team--to show up

he finds his own card next to kolivan's, only it just says "blade of marmora guest" anonymous and replaceable, just like usual

allura is set to be seated at the head of the table with the other important people and key speakers

keith smiles despite himself at the thought of allura pacing the halls of the castleship this past week, running through versions of speeches for anyone who will listen

the smile turns into an ache when he thinks of lance, perched on the kitchen counter, legs swinging, or draped across the lounge couch, head tipped off the edge, listening and humming appraisingly at all the right moments

turning those warm brown eyes to the ceiling and pretending to think hard on it when allura asks him if he thinks she's ready

"of course princess" he'd say, placing a hand on her shoulder and squeezing gently

"I think you were born ready"

because lance has always been good at that, at making you feel like the most capable person in the Universe

halfway down the opposite side of this grandiose table, keith finds what he hadn't known he'd been looking for: four name placards right in a row, each labeled with a name and "Paladin of Voltron"

takashi shirogane, pidge holt, hunk garrett, and lance mcclain

keith frowns sourly at the next name, some alien duke or duchess or whatever the fuck, somebody important who has just won the diplomacy dinner lottery by being offered the seat next to the blue paladin

he looks across the table from here to his own seat, looming positively miles away across and down this long ass mcfreaking table

who made this chart anyway???

keith is still grumping about it as people begin to show up and he shrinks a little into himself, scanning the room for those familiar faces, the anticipation buzzing under his skin

he's so lost in the looking that he forgets himself and gets totally ambushed by a voice right up against his ear

"Getting on just as socially as usual, I see"

he whirls ready to FIGHT but it's allura !!! and the relief and joy at seeing her in person for the first time in multiple space-months is such whiplash that he pitches straight into her open arms and holds tight

when he recovers he takes down the mask and squirms awkwardly

allura is gentle and kind, knows he hates the diplomacy part, knows he's only here because he misses all of them, one of them in particular...

they do small talk for a bit, allura growing worse and worse at hiding her amusement as keith continues to turn and stare at the door with increasing frequency

her eyes are sparkling the way they do when she gossips and she asks him point blank "so, you must be excited to see your boyfriend again"

keith's mind goes blank "n-no" yknow like a liar

she's downright snickering at him and he still can't resist scanning the room

she throws him a bone, tells him the other paladins are running late coming back from the parade but will arrive soon

keith is like coolcoolcool no doubt no doubt but really cannot stop staring at the door and feeling like he might throw up and is his hair okay he didn't really think about this before he showed up, hasn't even seen it in actually days because he's had the suit on, and the suit is DUMB what the fUcK--

they get approached by other diplomats from various coalition planets and allura turns on the schmooze

keith checks his touchpad--there are three messages from lance

"SORRY BABE RUNNIGN LATE"

"c u so SOON :3 <33333333"

"*RUNNING"

" :D "

[kythed]

“almost funny”

synopsis: suna rintarou thinks you’re out of his league, and you think he’s out of yours.

tagged: general dumbassery, fwb-to-lovers, some profanity, sexual references but nothing explicit.

commitment level: 5.6k words.

It’s almost funny, really. It’s funny how what started out as a purely physical transaction has now transformed into a one way ticket to Simpville with the name Suna Rintarou stamped on it in big red letters. Suna runs a hand through his hair in frustration as he stares down at your sleeping form, curled up in his SF Giants tee that fits you like an oversized nightgown. He loves how you look there, wearing his clothes, bed head resting on his pillows. It’s almost embarrassing how much he loves it. How much he might love you. 

He doesn’t really remember when he started seeing you as more than a good fuck. Maybe it was that time you told him he looked pretty with your lipgloss smeared across his mouth. 

“That’s a nice shade on you,” you’d laughed as he wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “You should wear it more often.” 

Then, before he could respond, you’d yanked him back in by the collar, licking into his mouth, deep and dirty. He shivers now even just thinking about it, recalling the taste of that lipgloss. Strawberry lemonade, the sort that comes in little bottles at the dollar store. However “pretty” he might’ve looked in that moment, he’s sure you looked a hundred times better. You always do, and you don’t even have to try. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, even in your worst moments. 

Or maybe it was the time you remembered his birthday when no one else did. January 25th; all his friends had taken off on their ski trips or tropical vacations, but you showed up to his apartment toting a cupcake and a single candle, belting a loud, out of tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ until he shut you up with an impulsive kiss on the lips. You’d been surprised, but not so surprised you couldn’t kiss him back. Suna’s pretty sure most friends-with-benefits don’t do that sort of thing. They don’t sit across from each other at the kitchen table, splitting a vanilla cupcake and laughing over matching frosting mustaches. They don’t hug each other goodbye after two hours of scrolling through YouTube and nothing else, content to linger in that air of tentative familiarity and pseudo-friendship. 

Whatever the reason, whenever it happened, all Suna knows now is you’re more than just a fuck buddy. He doesn’t even want to associate the term with you — it feels disrespectful. He wishes he could just stop pretending. Stop pretending he doesn’t want you to be his. 

“Hey.” 

Suna grins at your low, throaty morning voice. It’s cute. 

“Hey,” he responds, reaching forward to flick your shoulder. “You slept in.” 

“Did I?” You blink the sleep from your eyes and squint at Suna’s bedside clock. 9:06. “Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit.” 

You fly out of bed, wiggling into your jeans and tossing your hair into a careless ponytail before frantically scanning the room. “Have you seen my sweater anywhere?”

Suna exhales through his nose before getting up and walking over to his closet. “I hung it up last night so it wouldn’t be wrinkled.”

You freeze in your tracks, slowly turning with a teasing grin plastered on your face. “Oh? How considerate of you.”

Suna shrugs, avoiding your gaze. He feels a flush rise to cheeks and desperately hopes it doesn’t show. “Just being polite.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you had a little crush on me,” you crow before taking the sweater from the hanger and slipping it over your head. 

“You wish,” he snorts, but all he can think is you’re absolutely right. 

You ignore him and begin shoveling all your things into your purse: a compact mirror, lipstick, house keys. You glance at the clock again. “I’m gonna be so late to this lecture. Damn. Maybe I can text Aiko and ask her to record the first part for me.”

Suna raises an eyebrow. He remembers your friend Aiko from a party last year, before you and he began your… arrangement. She’s outgoing, friendly, and probably the flakiest person he’s ever met. “She’s not gonna do that. Just let me drive.”

“No, it’s fine,” you automatically brush him off, heading into the bathroom to splash your face with lukewarm water. “You probably have your own shit to take care of.”

Yeah, you, he thinks, but instead he says, “Not really. Plus, you’ll probably miss the whole thing if you try to bike to campus. Let me take you in the car. I’ll strap the bike onto the back.” 

You give him a look. “Are you sure, Rin?”

“It’s really not a big deal,” he says, throwing on a shirt. “Outside in five, and I’ll have you there by 9:30, easy.” 

After a few more weak protestations, you finally agree, and as he drives you to your university, he lets himself pretend you’re his girlfriend sitting there in the passenger seat. He turns on your favorite artist’s Spotify mix on the aux and smiles to himself when you hum along, watching the city fly past out the window. What he wouldn’t give for that reality, one where he can love you without all these restrictions, these tricky boundaries between friends and lovers. When you jump out of the car, calling a cheeky “I’ll text you!” over your shoulder, he pretends it’s an affectionate “I’ll see you for dinner tonight!” instead. He pretends that instead of rushing to get away from him and into the lecture hall, you kiss him on the forehead and squeeze his shoulder, reluctant to leave.

“Fuck me,” Suna says angrily before slamming his palm into the horn, scaring a few freshman walking to class. “And fuck you too!” 

He’s not sure who “you” is. Maybe the universe. 

No, Suna Rintarou doesn’t know why or how it happened, but he’s in too deep now. And he’s pretty damn sure you’ll never feel the same way. 

+

You slide into your seat beside Aiko just as the guest lecturer pulls up his power point, breathing out a sigh of relief. Aiko shoots you a grin, waggling her eyebrows. Suna? she mouths, and you roll your eyes, nodding nonetheless. Aiko can hardly wait until after the lecture to start pestering you about it. 

“So,” she says as you leave the auditorium together. “Did you tell him yet?” 

“Tell him what?” You dig in your bag for your water bottle, groaning when you remember leaving it on the edge of Suna’s sink last night. 

“Tell him that you’re in loooooove,” Aiko sings, nudging your shoulder. 

You scoff. “Okay, first of all, I don’t love him.”

“But you like him,” Aiko persists, and you hold up a finger. 

“And second of all, even if I did, I would never tell him.” You yawn, rubbing your eyes before realizing you hadn’t taken your makeup off and thus probably have awful raccoon eye bags. “He’s so out of my league it’s not even funny. It’s kind of pathetic for me to think he’d ever like me back.” 

Aiko scoffs. “If anything, you’re out of his league. You could pull any guy you wanted to. And when I say any, I mean any. Like, I bet you could even get Jake Gyllenhaal.” 

You laugh. “Why specifically Jake Gyllenhaal?”

Aiko shrugs. “Dunno. Just the first hot guy that came to mind. But forget him. My point is, Suna Rintarou is definitely yours for the taking. All you have to do is —”

“I know, I know,” you interrupt. “All I have to do is confess.” 

“Exactly,” says Aiko. Before she can open her mouth again, you cut in. 

“Okay, but listen, Aiko,” you say. “Suna’s the kind of guy who doesn’t let himself get attached. He fully admitted to me when we first hooked up that he’d never had a girlfriend. And that’s obviously not from lack of female interest. It’s because he doesn’t want one.”

“Or maybe it’s because he hasn’t found the right person yet.” Aiko starts heading towards the campus coffee shop, and you follow her. 

“Sure,” you say, getting in line. The cafe is crowded with students getting in their daily caffeination, inhaling sugary lattes and bitter espressos just to stay awake through their next class. Ah… college. “Or maybe he just. Doesn’t. Want. One.” 

Aiko keeps arguing all the way up until you reach the cash register, where you realize you haven’t even decided on what to order yet. 

“Hey there,” says the cashier, smiling sunnily. “What can I get for ya?” 

You blink. He’s attractive. Very attractive, actually. Bleach blonde, a crooked grin that screams trouble in the best sort of way. Miya, says the little name plate pinned to his shirt. “I, uhh…”

“Take your time,” he says leaning forward like he’s about to tell you a secret. “Between you and me, we have an excellent mocha latte. Not too sweet, y’know?”

You find your manners. “Oh, um, yeah. That sounds great, actually.” 

“One mocha latte, then?” he asks, picking up a cup, and you nod. “And to whom do I owe the pleasure of serving today?” 

When you tell him your name, he smiles to himself and scrawls it on the cup. “Pretty.”

You flush and pay, hands shaking a little when you slide your card down the side of the machine. The cashier notices and shoots you a knowing look. Five minutes later, when you pick up your drink from the other side of the counter, you see not only your name written on the lid, but a phone number, too, along with a tiny winking face. 

“What’d I tell you?” exclaims Aiko shrily when you leave the shop. “Any. Guy. Period.” 

You shake your head in exasperation, but you can’t help but throw a final glance over your shoulder, meeting the eyes of the cute cashier one more time. Maybe Aiko does have a point. 

+

That weekend, Suna’s stretched out on his couch, dangling his feet over the armrest and staring up at the ceiling. It’s one of those lazy Saturday afternoons, and usually he’d be enjoying his alone time. Not today, though. Today there’s something — someone — on his mind, and that someone is spelled y-o-u. His phone pings, and he snatches it up with embarrassing speed, groaning when he sees it’s just Atsumu. 

“Bastard,” he mutters, not even bothering to open the message. Probably just asking for the O-chem lab answers. 

Suna rolls over onto his stomach, pulling up your contact name. What he really wants to do is see you, but how is he supposed to do that without sounding weirdly desperate? Hey, he types out. Wanna come over and watch a movie? He pauses for a moment before adding, Pizza’s on me. 

He buries his face in his hands and deletes the text. That makes it sound like he’s asking you out. Well, that’s what he does want to do, but you can’t know that. He’s fairly certain if you knew how he felt about you, you’d freak out. Girls don’t like to be tied down, he reminds himself. Suna groans again, grabbing two fistfuls of hair in irritation. 

“Why are women so complicated?” he says aloud, letting the words echo in his empty apartment. He takes a couple seconds to close his eyes, take a deep breath, and unlock his phone again, this time settling on a simple Come over. Short, sweet, and to the point. Well, not exactly. That makes it sound like all he wants to do is sleep together, when he’d really rather just… talk. Spend time with you. 

“Oh, God,” he mutters. “I’m so done for.” 

It takes what seems like forever for you to arrive, breathless from biking, hair slightly mussed. Suna grins, biting his lip. You’re so beautiful, he thinks, pulling you in for a hungry kiss. Even if all he can get is the sex, then he’s sure as hell going to appreciate it. You smell like lavender laundry detergent, he notices when you press yourself into him, fumbling to close the door behind you without breaking the kiss. 

“Well, hello there,” you laugh when he finally breaks away and draws in a shaking breath. “Somebody’s eager.”

Suna rolls his eyes. “As if. You just took so long to get here.” 

You cock an eyebrow. “You texted me like half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, and you’re half an hour too late.”

You snort and hurl a pillow from the sofa at him. He catches it and smiles, taking your wrist and drawing you in for another messy, open-mouthed kiss.

“Sorry that I don’t have the power of teleportation,” you quip, laughing when he pulls you into the bedroom. Suna resolves to take his time with you today, undressing you carefully, trailing his lips down your sternum and collarbones, grinning to himself whenever you gasp. He almost catches himself saying “I love you” at one point as you cling to him, mumbling his name, but he placates himself with kissing you extra hard at the end instead, pulling you into his chest and falling back into the pillows. 

Usually, you’d take a few minutes to lay in silence, tracing shapes in his skin, and he’d lean back with closed eyes, imagining what it would be like to be loved by you. Slow early morning kisses, skin on skin, whispering and giggling and everything cheesy he used to hate but now wishes he could experience with you. Today, though, you peel yourself off of him and grab your phone as soon as it buzzes, fingers flying in response to whoever had texted you.

“New boy toy?” he jokes, almost choking when you don’t immediately say no. Oh, shit. “You’re kidding.”

“Just a guy I met the other day,” you say casually. Suna stares, slack jawed. “Works at the coffee shop near the quad.” 

“Coffee shop?” He furrows his brow. Doesn’t he know someone who works there? He internally scowls, digging into the back of his brain. Aran? Osamu? 

“Mm,” you say, suppressing a smile as the nameless suitor sends another text. “His name’s Atsumu Miya.”

Suna’s heart nearly falls right out of his chest and cracks at his feet. “No.”

You look up, raising an eyebrow. “No?”

“Not him,” Suna says, forgetting himself, forgetting the nature of your relationship. 

“I didn’t realize you were in charge of who I can and cannot be interested in,” you say bitingly. 

Suna sits up. “I’m not. It’s just, Atsumu… he’s not your type.” 

“You know him?”

“Yeah,” Suna says, thinking back on his days observing the Miya twins’ antics. “He’s not your kind of guy, trust me.”

“Pray tell then,” you say. Oh, fuck. You’re irritated. “Who exactly is my kind of guy?” 

Me, he thinks. I’m your kind of guy. “I don’t know. Just trust me though, okay? Atsumu… he’s difficult.” 

“Thanks, Suna,” you say, tone tinged with sarcasm. Suna cringes. You only ever call him by his surname when you’re upset with him. “But I think I can go out with whoever I want to go out with.” 

“Fine.” The word tumbles out more harshly than he’d meant it to. 

You stare at him in disbelief. “What, are you mad at me or something?” 

Suna exhales heavily. “No, I’m not mad. It’s not like we’re dating or anything. I just wanted to give you a little guidance. As your friend.” 

“As my friend?” you repeat. “My friend?”

Now it’s Suna's turn to be confused. “Are we not friends?”

“I don’t know, Suna,” you say, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, pulling your clothes on. “You tell me.” 

“I’m not sure what you want me to say here,” he says, watching as you struggle to pull your shorts back on. He knows what he wants to say. No, we’re not friends. We should be together. Isn’t it obvious? 

You huff, grabbing your bag and the water bottle you’d left behind the other day. “You know, I don’t really know either. Forget I ever said anything. I guess I just thought…” 

You trail off and shake your head, heading towards the door. Suna scrambles out of bed to follow you, pulling on his pants as he hops down the hall on one leg. “What’s that?” 

“I said forget it,” you call over your shoulder, trying to slam the door, but Suna catches your wrist. As you stare up at him, he thinks he sees your lip quivering, eyes shining with half-formed tears. “Let me go.” 

“I’m serious,” Suna says. “What did you think?” 

You draw in a deep breath, and for a second, Suna thinks you’re about to say the words he’s always wanted you to say. Then you look away. “Let. Me. Go.” 

Slowly, Suna releases you from his grasp, and you stumble backwards, wiping your eyes on your sleeve. 

“Don’t call me.”

“Wait, no —”

“Don’t call me, Suna!” you say loudly, before turning on your heel and speed walking down the stairs. 

Oh. Oh. Suna stares in shock at the place you were just standing on his doorstep. “Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

When he heads back inside, head empty but for the single thought, I’ve just lost the best thing that ever happened to me, he glances at his phone on the counter. In an instant, he’s opening up his messages, pulling up Atsumu’s. 

Met a cute girl LOL. Gonna bring her to that party on Friday. 

Then, in a separate bubble — Btw: chem answers? 

+

“And then he called me his friend,” you say angrily, handing Aiko the box of Oreos. The two of you are sprawled on the floor of her dorm room. “Just like we were two bros who got together to play XBox every once in a while, instead of two people who had literally just banged.” 

Aiko takes a cookie before handing them back to you. “Asshole.”

“I mean, I know technically we were ‘friends with benefits,’” you say, stuffing an Oreo in your mouth. “But I guess I thought we could be something more. I thought there was no way he could kiss me like that, look at me like that without feeling something. Guess I was wrong.” 

“Screw him,” Aiko says. “You’ve got boys lined up around the block, and he thinks he can treat you like rubbish? Absolute bullshit.”

“I don’t have boys ‘lined up around the block,’” you remind her, smiling regardless. “Just one.”

“And that one is hella cute!” Aiko says. “You’re way too cool to pine over some guy who thinks you’ll just answer his every beck and call without even committing to a relationship.” 

You sigh. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s just… ack. I don’t know. Am I jumping to conclusions? He seemed like he wanted to talk to me more, but I kind of stormed off without saying anything.” 

“Seems like he was pretty clear,” Aiko says with a shrug. “Your call, though. If I were you, I’d forget about him. Plus, you have Atsumu now. That’s a promising route.” 

You smile down at the Oreos, thinking about the cheery bottle blonde. “Yeah… he invited me to a party this coming Friday.” 

Aiko gives you a look and nudges your knee with her own. “You’d better wear that black dress.”

“You think?” you laugh, momentarily forgetting about Suna. 

“Oh, definitely. Gotta look your best on the first date.” 

“Right, and then after that I can just dress like a bum,” you joke. You purse your lips. “Rin might be there. Apparently he and Atsumu are pretty close.” 

“Even better,” insists Aiko. “Make him suffer a little bit. He won’t like seeing you all dolled up on Atsumu Miya’s arm.” 

“I’m not gonna try to make him jealous, Aiko,” you say, and Aiko shakes her head.

“No, I just think he needs to understand what he lost,” she says. “You don’t even have to pay attention to him at all, though. You should try and get to know Atsumu a little better.”

“Yeah, okay,” you say, before reaching down for another cookie. “Oh. We’re out.”

“Gas station run?”

“Gas station run.” 

+

When Friday rolls around, you’ve successfully managed to avoid thinking about Suna the entire day. You have a calculus exam in the morning, and then a club meeting in the afternoon, and by the time you get done with everything it’s already time to get ready to leave for the party. It’s across town at someone’s loft apartment, so Atsumu offers to give you a ride, rolling up in a shiny Lexus, a sharp contrast from Suna’s old Chevy. 

“Hey,” he says, getting out to open the door for you. “You look great.”

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you say. “Although, I might prefer the work uniform.”

“Oh, please,” Atsumu says with a grin. “That apron does nothing to flatter my figure.” 

“Mhm.” The ride there is a slightly awkward one, but that’s normal, you tell yourself. You’ve gotten so used to the easy, teasing camaraderie you and Suna have that you’re rusty in regards to flirting. Atsumu has a different sense of humor, too, nothing like the dry sarcasm Suna’s such an expert in. You shake your head. Stop thinking about him. 

Even sitting next to a new guy, you can’t help but run last weekend’s drama over in your head. The past few months have been a jumble of mixed signals, and last Saturday was no different. How he tenderly brushed your hair from your face as he hovered over you, how he pulled you into his arms afterwards … how he seemed almost jealous when you mentioned Atsumu. Was it really jealousy? Exactly how much does Suna Rintarou care for you? You roll the numbers inside your head, trying to quantify the soft touches and lingering stares. He’s not easy to read; trying to understand Suna is like trying to decipher Greek without ever taking a single class. 

Even trying to get a measure on how much you care for him is difficult. You definitely like him as more than a friend. The only reason you agreed to the whole friends-with-benefits thing in the first place was because of a little crush that grew, that fed on that intimacy… but you’re not so sure now. 

“Here we are,” says Atsumu, jolting you from your contemplation as he pulls up alongside the curb. When you climb out of the car, he takes you by the hand, flashing you a quick smile. Your heart trips over itself, and you smile back. “Let’s do this.” 

+

Suna doesn’t show up to the party. He spends most of Friday busying himself at home, paying off a couple electricity bills, cleaning out the fridge. He even does a load of laundry. That’s how bored he is. By the time the clock strikes eight, he feels as though he’s Swiffered every single kitchen tile, folded every shirt, and wiped down every counter in the entire apartment, all to avoid stewing over you and him and all the ways he keeps messing up. But after doing everything on his to-do list and watching a movie and cooking his own dinner (unheard of!) he finds himself pacing around the living room, biting at his nails and thinking about you. More specifically, you and Atsumu. He hopes you’re not wearing that little dress you wore to the club with him a couple months ago. Not that you don’t look great in it — you do, and that’s the issue. The better you look, the more likely Suna will never get a chance to be with you again. 

To be fair, he’s not entirely sure how much of a chance he’s ever had with you. You’re incredible, plain and simple. Gorgeous, intelligent, the best player two on every video game he’s ever played with you. You’re not especially adept at the games themselves; no, there’s just something about you. There’s always just been something about you he can’t seem to find anywhere else. 

“Damn it,” Suna grunts aloud, flopping down on the couch. It’s nearing half past eleven now. He wonders what you’re doing. Dancing to some shitty music in some crowded living room. Sipping a can of cheap liquor. Letting Atsumu touch your waist, his hand dipping lower and lower until — 

Suna buries his face in the couch cushion. He’s usually not one to let his imagination run away with him, but tonight seems to be one of many recent exceptions. If only there was a way to know where he stands with you, or at least where you stand with Atsumu…

Well, there is a way, actually. Almost of its own accord, his hand inches towards his phone, sliding it open and somehow finding its way into his Snapchat. Fingers shaking, Suna clicks on Osamu’s story. It’s dimly lit, a mass of bodies, loud, drunk guys and scantily clad girls. The music is too loud, even through the phone. Suna squints at the screen — there’s Aran, even Kita’s there, quietly sitting in the corner, but no sight of — Suna’s eyes nearly pop out of his head. Because there you are, and you’re not alone. You’re sitting on Atsumu’s lap, but he can’t see your expression because Atsumu is kissing you sloppily, and — oh, God — it looks like you’re kissing him back. 

And you’re wearing the fucking dress. 

“Damn,” Osamu says in the background. “Looks like he’s getting some tonight.”

Suna throws his phone across the room like it’s a grenade, staring down at his empty hands in disbelief. This can’t be happening. Not to him. Not to you. 

For the first time, Suna Rintarou thinks he understands what it really means to want someone. Not in a sexual way, but in the deepest sense of the word. Want. He wants you, and he’s pretty sure he’s never wanted anyone or anything quite so much in his life. 

All of a sudden, before his brain even has a chance to catch up, Suna finds himself shrugging on a jacket and snatching his keys from the table, dashing out the door like he’s being chased. If he leaves now, he thinks, starting the car and nearly slamming the door on his foot, he can get to the party before you leave. And then, well, then he’s not quite sure what he’ll do, but he’ll do something. 

Again, though, it seems as if the universe might be against him, because there’s an accident on the highway and it takes twice as long to get across town as it should. Suna cusses loudly over the incessant honking and chews on the inside of his cheek until it bleeds. When the traffic lets up and he finally pulls up to the apartment complex, parallel parking in a spot that’s probably illegal, he races up the stairs and into the loft, grabbing the first partygoer he sees. The poor kid’s plastered beyond belief and stares at Suna like he’s an extraterrestrial, eyes glassy.

“You see a girl leave here? ‘Bout this tall, probably left with some douchey looking blonde dude?” 

The kid blinks, hard and slow, before nodding. “Yeah, man, you just missed her. That your chick or somethin’? Because she was sucking face with —” 

Suna spins on his heel before the kid gets a chance to finish his sentence. He’s lucky Suna doesn’t deck him the head, he’s so irritated. 

“Sucking face,” he mumbles, climbing back into the car. He has the route to your house memorized (although he’s not sure how), and he’s pretty sure he breaks about twenty traffic laws trying to get there, so it takes significantly less time to arrive, but to Suna, it feels like an eternity. How did he ever sleep soundly at night knowing other guys had a shot at you before this? He doesn’t know, and he hopes he never has to worry about it again. Not after tonight. 

He gets there just as Atsumu’s pulling out of the driveway. Suna flashes him a mental middle finger and resolves to kick his ass later. No time for that right now. You’re still standing on the front porch, and when Suna stumbles out of the car, you turn towards him, mouth agape. 

“Rin? What are you—”

“Give me a chance.” He’s breathless, eyes wide and hair whipping around his face in the cool breeze. His heartbeat pounds in his ears like it’s about to burst blood vessels.

“Huh?”

“Give me a chance,” he repeats, reaching forward to take your hand. Your palm is cold against his. “I can do so much better, I promise.” 

You furrow your brows. “What in the world are you talking about, Rin?”

The dam breaks. The dam breaks, and everything — the longing, the frustration, everything — comes pouring out in a waterfall of rushing words he doesn’t even have time to think over before they splash at your feet.

“I can do so much better than Atsumu. He doesn’t know you. I know you, and I, well, I’ve liked you since forever, okay? I know your favorite color and your birthday and which Chinese place you like to get takeout from on Saturday nights.” Suna clears his throat. “I know that you like to be hugged from behind and that you hate it when people see you cry. I know so many things about you, and I want to know more.” 

“Rin—”

He holds up a hand. “Just listen. I know we’re just fuck buddies, or friends with benefits, or whatever the hell you want to call it, but I want to change that. You mean so much more to me than the sex. God, even if we never slept together again, I would still love you.” 

You stare at him. “Love?”

Suna swallows hard. “Yeah, fuck it. Love. I love you. Whatever that means to you, it means to me. I love your stupid jokes and your stupid laugh. To be honest, I’m so in love it feels like I’ll never love anyone else.”

He stops to take a deep breath and a shaky laugh. “Pathetic, right? I know it is. I can’t help it. I’m well aware that Atsumu is way more charming and outgoing, and I was probably wrong when I said he wasn’t your type… but I just need to know if I have even the smallest chance of winning you over.” 

There’s a beat of silence. Then another one. You’re gazing at him, head cocked, and the seconds tick by. He still has your hand in his, growing warmer via body heat. Suna feels himself grow increasingly nervous at your expression, curious and almost apathetic — until a wide smile breaks across your face. You laugh, and he thinks it must be the best sound he’s ever heard. 

“You weren’t wrong.”

“What?”

“He’s not my type,” you say. “We didn’t click.” 

“But — I saw, uh — Osamu’s story,” Suna stammers. “Sucking face.”

“Sucking face?” You squint in confusion before chuckling again. “Ah. Yeah, I kissed him. It was part of some stupid game. He’s kind of bad at it.” 

“Atsumu’s a bad kisser?” 

“Well,” you say, drawing the word out. “I wouldn’t say bad. It’s just… you’re better.” 

Suna’s silent for a second, letting the words ricochet around his brain. He’s better. He’s a better kisser. It was just a game. You’re not into Atsumu. “So… does that mean…?” 

“I love you, too.” You smile, and it’s not like your usual cocky grin. It’s sweet and almost… shy. 

“You love me, too?” Suna repeats in utter shock. He hadn’t expected to get this far.

“That’s what I just said,” you say. “What are you, a parrot? Speaking of which, though, I think that whole speech was the most I’ve ever heard you talk.” 

Suna doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes a step closer and pulls you in for a hug. A real hug, not like the hesitant embrace you’d given him on his birthday, or the side hug he gave you after running into you at the grocery market a few weeks ago. No, this is a true, bona fide hug, and he translates everything he’s ever wanted to tell you but couldn’t into his arms wrapping around your waist. 

“So… wanna come in and watch a movie?” 

+

A little while later, Suna’s stretched out on your mattress with you between his legs, chin resting on the top of your head. You’ve changed out of your dress and wiped the makeup from your face, and Suna catches you yawning in the corner of his eye. There’s a trashy romcom droning on your laptop at the foot of the bed. To any outside onlooker, the scene is mundane, just a typical couple enjoying each other’s company. To Suna, though, this is paradise. 

It’s almost funny. It’s funny how, a week ago, Suna was a boy pining for a girl he thought he had no chance with. He looked at you and saw something unattainable, someone who would only ever want him temporarily. (And, unbeknownst to him, you felt the same way.) He experienced an overwhelming amount of want, heart knotting in on itself and twisting and turning until it pushed him over the edge, forcing him to confront his own desires. His own inadequacies. 

It’s funny how love is what everyone longs for, but it’s also the hardest reward to earn. It’s the most uncomfortable, heart-wrenching, nerve-wracking, anxiety-inducing pathway to happiness Suna’s ever seen. But still… he’d do it all over again if he had to. The months of headaches, the overthinking. It’s worth it. You’re worth it. 

Oh, well. What can he say? Suna leans down and presses a featherlight kiss to your temples, and you tilt your head up to smile at him. Love’s a funny thing. 

Fortunately, Suna’s always down for a good joke.