#please can my brain stop coming up with aus for FIVE MINUTES

[lykegenia]

Toying with a Wayhaven AU where UB are the vampire lords (gender neutral) ruling over the territory of Wayhaven: A and N make sure humans aren't killed - N because of self-tortured compassion and A because in the long term it's the best way to not have townspeople coming at you with pitchforks - and M goes along with it though they couldnt care less either way. F is a vampire noble from a faraway land who sought refuge with UB, who thinks the idea of not drinking humans to death is a peculiar novelty, but they see the benefits to it.

And then the MC shows up, escaped from Murphy, who wanted to use their blood to become a vampire high king or something. Rebecca is an old friend of UB and said they could be trusted, and there's not much choice when there's a supercharged vampire maniac on your trail. UB offer MC protection after seeing what their blood can do to a vampire's powers, but vow that none of them will take it because in addition to making them more powerful it would drive them mad and make them turn on the rest of their family.

Of course that's harder said than done when the temptation is right there and only growing stronger...

[thenasoneshots]

Lafayette Oneshot - Because Fuck You, That's Why!

Requested?: No

Prompt: 6."I-I'm pregnant." 7. "I'll be here for you, through the dark." 11. "You gotta stop doing that." "Doing what?" "Saying things that make me want to kiss you!"

Type of oneshot: Angst/Fluff

Timing: Modern AU

Reader's Relations: John’s Sister

Warnings: None If any of this is triggering, please let me know and I’ll warn for it next time!

Other notes: You live with John

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

I sobbed as I hid myself under the covers, forgetting that I hadn’t locked the door to my room.

“(Y/n)? (Y/n), what happened?”

“Hmm.”

“What exactly does ‘Hmm’ mean?” John asked, pulling the covers back so he could see my tear-stained face.

“It means ‘None of your fucking business’. Leave me alone, please,” I muttered, sending him the middle finger.

“(Y/n), I’m your brother. I am not leaving this room until you tell me.”

“I-I’m pregnant,” I spoke in an almost whisper, hoping he hadn’t heard, but when I felt a hand on my shoulder, I knew he had, “I’ll be here for you. Through the dark.”

I smiled slightly and dried my eyes, “T-thank you.”

“Do you know who the father is?”

I shook my head, “All I know is it’s some French guy.”

“Okay. That’s fine with me. I won’t judge you, (Y/n). Anything I can get you?” John asked, his normal cinnamon roll self returning after being concerned about me. I just shook my head, “Not right now, but thank you.”

--------------------------------JOHN’S POV

“What’s got you so worked up?”

“Nothing,” I replied, looking at my phone for the thousandth time that minute, my leg jittering uncontrollably. 

“Something’s wrong. John, we’re your friends, we can tell when you’re bothered by something.”

“Okay fine. I’m worried about (Y/n). She went out this morning and said she’d text me when she was nearly home. I still have not received that text, and I can’t help but think that something has happened,” I answered, wracking my hands through my hair.

“Oh.”

“Really? That’s all you say?”

Before anything else could be said, there was the sound of a door opening and some muttering. Then I heard a familiar voice, “Uncle John! Look what Mumm-” the young girl cut herself off before dashing out the same way she’d come.

YOUR POV

“Mummy! Why didn’t you tell me Uncle John had people over!”

“Huh? What are you talking about, Sweetie?” I asked, bending down to Marié’s level, and wiping the tears from her eyes.

“There’s people sitting in the living room with Uncle John and I don’t know who they are, or that they would be here!”

“It’s okay, Sweetie. We can ask your Uncle about it,” I replied, picking her up and walking into the living room, “John?”

“(Y/n)! I’m so glad you’re alright! Why didn’t you text me?!”

“Phone died,” I replied. I’ll put it on charge when I go upstairs. Sorry.”

“Mon ami, are you going to introduce us to this belle famme here or are we going to have to make assumptions?”

“Oh sorry. This is (Y/n). My little sister. (Y/n), Meet my friends; Alexander, but we all just call him Alex,” John spoke, pointing to a relatively short guy with dark brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail, “Hercules,” a taller male with a bandana wrapped around his head, and “And Lafayette. His name is too long, so we all just call hi-” John stopped talking when I let out a small gasp and turned around, running out of the room and up to my bedroom, letting myself slide down the door once inside and muttering to myself.

JOHN’S POV

“Do you have something to say, Laf?”

“Whatever do you mean, Mon ami? I’ve never seen her before.”

“Then why’d she run off the minute she made eye contact with you?” I asked, turning to him, raising an eyebrow, “She knows you.”

I could tell he was trying to wrack his brain, when I felt an arm wrap around my legs, “Uppy!” I bent down and picked Marié up. As the five-year-old started to play with my hair, I continued to stare Laf down. Then it clicked, “Laf, don’t tell me… You don’t happen to be Marié’s father, do you?”

“Mon ami, that is an absurd thought. I told you already I have never met ta souer before. How could that even happen?”

I sighed and sat down on the sofa again, Marié now happily sitting in my lap, “Laf, like how you can tell when something is worrying me, I can tell when you’re lying. (Y/n) knows you.”

Before he could reply, my phone pinged. I picked it up and looked at the message to see it was from (Y/n): “Can you ask Lafayette to come upstairs? He deserves to know…”

“Laf, my sister wants to talk to you. You ‘deserve to know’ something.”

YOUR POV

By the time I sent John a message, I was sitting on my bed, wracking my hands through my hair That’s when I heard a knock on the door, “Excuse moi, may I come in?”

“Yes,” I responded, trying to calm myself down.

“(Y/n)... John thought of something downstairs..”

“Yes. You’re Marié’s father. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you, but I didn’t know I was pregnant until I got back to America, and by that point, it was too late. “C-Could you ever forgive me?” I muttered, my shoulders wracking with the sobs I was letting out.

“Mon ami,” he replied, bending down in front of me and placing his hands on my shoulders comfortingly, “I should be the one asking for your forgiveness. I am the one who got you pregnant, and I haven’t done anything to help with the result of it.”

“You didn’t know she existed, Laf,” I muttered, reaching up and wiping a tear from his cheek, “You’ve got to stop doing that, you know.”

“Doing what?”

“Doing things that make me want to kiss you,” I answered, my face going bright red.

“Y-you want to kiss moi?”

“Y-yeah. Honestly, when we met in France, I fell in love with you, and the night Marié happened, I wasn’t actually that drunk. I’m sorry if this is creeping you out, I mean, I’m just your friend’s sister now. The past is the past, right?” Instead of a response, Laf just removed a hand from my shoulder and placed it on my cheek, “Mon ami, may I kiss you?”

And… my face was bright red again, “Y-you feel the same?” Again, there was no verbal response, only a nod. I nodded back and leaned in, kissing him, soon finding myself lying down on my bed, Laf hovering over me.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!”

I immediately broke off at the sound of my brother’s voice, as I turned to see his face; red with anger, “LAF THAT IS MY SISTER!”

“Et c'est ma petite amie,” Laf replied, causing me to blush for the third time in ten minutes. Due to my French knowledge, I knew he’d just called me his girlfriend.

“Fine. You hurt her, you’re dead, Laf.”

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

“Marié, how would you feel about getting a little sibling?” I asked the now eight-year-old as I fiddled with the ring on my left finger. Her face immediately lit up, “Really?!”

I nodded and she squealed, running off happily, probably to tell her friends. I stood up, however, I could feel eyes boring into me from behind, “Why are you asking Marié that specific question, (Y/n)?”

“Because fuck you, that’s why, John. My love life is none of your business.”

—----------------------------------END OF ONESHOT

Finally back to writing Hamilton oneshots hehe.

[ofallthingsnasty]

Can I get a ticket to the long night of museums with Sanji, please? Thank you!

Sanji, my love... Of course I had to get this done for my birthday today... He's both more and less intense compared to canon, you'll see what I mean 🤭 Modern AU as with Rosi! Thank you so much for playing!

🎂nasty's 2024 birthday event (open until April 6th)🎂

Your order:

1 x ticket to The Long Night of Museums with Sanji! (Adult only, exhibition might contain content such as stalking and heavy dubcon, proceed at your own risk.

Sanji knew exactly what he was doing when he asked to man the window after he started working in that tiny, decade-old restaurant right in the middle of the old quarter. He gets to have it all - he can both pursue his passion and feast his eyes on the hungry swaths of tourists that descend upon the city come the first sunny days of spring. Dressed in their finest, they hem and haw over the beautiful old buildings that look like they somehow fell through time into the 21st century, still as picturesque as ever. Always happy (because hey, they’re on vacation, right?) with pockets meters deep and insatiable after trekking through the whole town. It’s good for his pride to provide them with a hard-earned meal and bad for his heart because every beautiful smile breaks it after leaving, time and time again. Every fleeting fancy has him sighing as they turn around to new adventures while he stays right where he is. It has never really bothered him - such is life, he figures - until he spots you; round-eyed and hungry right at his counter, your accent a dead giveaway that you’re a foreigner.

It’s strange, really - maybe it’s because you eat his food with rarely seen awe or maybe it’s because you’re just the embodiment of the word cute - it doesn’t matter, he feels a little extra smitten with you. But as they all do, you leave, get lost in the crowd until he can't spot you anymore and the next customer waits for him, money in their hands. He takes a deep breath, erases the dozen little daydreams his brain cooked up in the five minutes the two of you interacted with and puts his best costumer service smile on.

And then you’re there again the next day, around the same time and he balks at the sight of you. Just like yesterday, wearing another (equally cute) outfit, with some cash already tucked into your fist. I had to come back, you say, a bashful grin on your face. Can’t enjoy this for long and it’s just so good! Oh, he’s done for, he just knows it. Fate gave him a second chance (or just confirmation?) and he’d be an idiot to ruin this.

It’s so easy to spot the card of your hotel when you fumble with it to get your wallet and even easier to wait in front of your little abode later that night until you stop by to freshen up and go out again. Of course you would, it’s only natural - you’re trying to wring every last experience out of your trip and a night out is what completes it. He follows you quietly, all the way downtown, smoking while you almost skip along the streets. Just what has you in such good spirits, he wonders - and he gets his answer when you finally settle in a little pub and he seats himself somewhere close when you’re not looking.

Turns out, it’s your birthday, at least that's what you tell the employee at the counter, a thousand-watt smile on your face that he can hear even through the cigarette smoke and old hard rock. He’s torn between feeling excited and a little sorry for you - you shouldn't be celebrating your birthday alone, you’re too kind for that. Then again, it provides him with ample opportunities; he gets to be the hero of the day if he saves your birthday, he just needs to be smart about it. So he waits. Smokes cigarette after cigarette and thinks about all the things to say to you, gets lost in his own head while you drink yourself through an array of liquors and beers. Poor thing, you won't remember a thing tomorrow morning, the way you're letting the alcohol flow. He isn't the type to use people when they are at their lowest but he can't deny that some lowered inhibitions are only beneficial to him. And really, he isn't planning anything bad. Just a little extra care for you, on your special day.

He knocks on your table once you've gone from beer to shots. It's cute how hard your brain is working because clearly, you recognize him, but it just doesn't know where to place him. Eventually, you do - and beam up at him with so much joy it's almost overwhelming.

Oh! It’s you! From the window!

Adorable, even when you're shitfaced. You're perfect. He sits down without asking but you don't mind, too entrenched in drinking and babbling about your day. You seem so happy to get all of this attention from him, a semi-familiar face in the middle of the night, and he just listens and smiles. You toast him and he tips his cigarette, enjoying the way your knees knock against his. Just one last drink, he can tell, then you're ready. Then you’ll be going with him, uneasy in the legs but happy in mind, then you'll pull him into your hotel room with a giggle and too much force.

And really, he isn't a bad guy, he knows that - but he can’t help himself when he’s already knuckle-deep in you, cooing while you drunkenly whimper around his fingers. It’s so, so sweet. You’re so, so sweet. Can’t enjoy this for long, he thinks and nips at your ear, as you struggle to cum because you simply had too much alcohol. It's a little birthday present to you, a little treat for him. And maybe he should think about moving, too. Or fuck you so good tomorrow that you'll never want to leave again.

He'll figure something out.

[jackhues]

bad reaction pt. 2 - mat barzal (au #1)

part one has been dubbed the 'bad reaction mat fic', so here's part two loll, also there's two ways i want this to go, so they're going to be aus of each other. here's the first one!

gif not mine!

mat was having an off-week.

that's what the whispers around him said. he was having a bad few days, and wasn't playing up to his usual standards.

nothing was wrong. it was just an off-time for him.

but mat knew it was deeper than that.

the moment you told him you were pregnant, his brain had shut off. the two of you had a silent, but mutual agreement, of having no kids. at least not until you had your lives figured out — whether you were going to spend it together or what.

when he heard you two were having a baby, he got mad. mad at you because out of all the girlfriends and flings he'd had, you were the last one he expected to baby-trap him.

but when he came home, late that night and for some reason completely sober, you were already gone.

the clothes from the dresser, the hair ties you left lying around despite mat's complaints, the jacket that had been sprawled on the back of mat's chair for a month now — every trace of you was gone.

and that's when he realized you weren't baby-trapping him.

that the pregnancy wasn't something you'd wanted, but something that had just happened.

that's when he realized he'd let you go.

"oh fuck," he muttered, rummaging through the drawers before finding his phone. in a rush, he'd left it at home.

he dialed your number, holding his breath and it reached voicemail. he tried again and again, even requesting your location, but it was radio silence on your end.

he dialed your younger brother, sighing in relief when he picked up the phone. his relief was short-lived as your younger brother didn't sound happy with him.

"the hell do you want?" he growled. "stop calling y/n, she doesn't want to talk to you."

"look, i fucked up, okay?" mat admitted. "i know that. i messed up, and i — i just want to explain to her. please. if she — if she wants nothing to do with me afterwards... i get it. i just want to talk to her. please."

maybe it was the desperation in his voice, but your younger brother sighed. "she's at my house. you have five minutes to speak with her, or until she kicks you out."

mat thanked him, running out the door and to your younger brother's apartment. when he finally reached, he knocked, leg bouncing as he wanted nothing more than to talk to you, to see you.

"she's in the room," your younger brother said, opening the door. "you have five minutes, and don't you dare make her cry."

mat gulped, rushing to the room. the door was open, and you were sitting against the bed, watching the princess diaries on the projector.

he winced. if you were watching the movie on the projector — it was bad.

"y/n?" he called out, voice cracking slightly.

your eyes widened as they met his, a part of you not believing your brother when he was mat wanted to talk to you.

"can i — can i explain myself?" he asked quietly.

you paused the movie, motioning for him to come in. "you can sit there."

he sat on the chair, trying to convey how guilty he was.

"i'm so sorry," he told you. "i — i was scared because this — what we have — it was realest thing i'd had in a long time. and i was scared that you were going to baby-trap me, and i'd fallen for it. i shouldn't have reacted they way i did. i should've listened to you and talked to you, and helped you through this. i want to be there for you. i'm here for you now. as long as you let me."

you were silent, digesting his words.

a part of you wanted to be mad at him, but you understood where his fear came from. he was a professional athlete, of course that would be one of his first thoughts.

you'd had over a week to come to terms with the pregnancy, while mat had barely had a day. you didn't blame him for his reaction, no matter how much you'd hated it.

"come here," you patted the bed next to you, allowing mat to sit. "i don't blame you for your reaction. honestly, i should've spoken with you earlier, and we could've talked it out together. but that's what we're doing now. we're communicating, and we're okay."

hearing that sentence come out of your mouth, mat tried not to cry.

he pulled you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead. whether you kept the baby or not, he was going to be there for you from now on.

he swore it.

-

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme ,  @svechnikovvv ,  @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots ,  @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila ,  @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy  ,  @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley, @hischierdevils , @jackhughesily  , @panarin10 ,  @equallyshaw ,   @power2myheart  ,  @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @hischierhaze, @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya ,  @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 ,  @emsully2002  ,  @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73 ,  @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 @hughesmedicine , @qwanelledingele , @mindless-rock , @ireadthensuetheauthors , @huggy-hischier94, @slaythehousedownboots , @diary-of-jj , @youunravelme

[tikus-library]

"The Look"

Avengers AU - Quick Fic

Characters: Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers, Reader

Posted: Jan 20th

WARNINGS: none, idiots being idiots

A/N: I was at the laundromat yesterday when I saw the gif and needed to write something- so gave this.

Like, Comments, & Reblogs are always appreciated and loved.

**Please Do Not Repost or 'Fix' My Work**

Leave kudos on Ao3

“Here comes Y/N! Do the thing- do the thing!” Sam elbowed him, shit eating grin in place.

Bucky sighed with his entire soul, “Sam, it doesn't do anything, it's just a look, that's all, it doesn't matter”

“If it doesn't matter then do it.”

“Why would I?” He shot back as Sam stopped, shifted his hip out and crossed his arms.

Sam rolled his eyes to Steve, “he won't do the thing!”

“Steve get your friend”

“He's more your friend than mine these days pal,” Steve chuckled.

“Here she comes… you should see how she reacts to it, you'd understand me Steve, this one here is just an idiot.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes as Steve shrugged, shook his head and raised his hands in classic ‘I don't know’ fashion. “fine-” he bit out, stepping out between them and tipping his head down and looking up at you.

Today couldn't get worse. Today everything was wrong. Today every file that was sent to you was backwards or upside down, some were even corrupted and Tony thought it was the funniest shit, as if you could be any later now you had to do a quick debriefing of the three stooges that were currently coming back in from a mission and really as if you didn't get enough shoved on your plate– wonderful, you perked up realizing the three were right there, together, you could get it done in five minutes as long as you heckled them.

You could just stare at Steve or Sam. They were good, wholesome, wonderful guys that were not the sergeant. Not that Bucky wasn't wholesome or handsome– actually he was very handsome, distractingly so, especially when he smiled, or put his hand through his hair, or just breathed in your general vicinity.

Speaking of the Sergeant you saw him step forwards and meet your gaze, head dropping, hair shifting forwards to frame his face, lips pressed down and bright blue eyes focused on you.

Your brain flat lined.

Y/N stopped in her tracks, her determined steps halting, Bucky cocked his head to the side and was surprised when she did an abrupt about face and practically RAN back in the direction she had come from. He shoved a hand into his face.

Great, now you were scared of him, as if he didn't have enough trouble figuring out what to say to you. Now you wouldn't show your face around him.

Steve guffawed, bringing Bucky back out of his depressed thoughts. “Good gawd Buck, I forgot the effect you had on a woman.”

“What?!” He demanded, “she ran out of here in fear for her life!” Sam cracked, a howl of laughter spilling forth, Bucky clenched his fists, “you think that's funny?”

Sam clapped a hand on his shoulder, “that wasn't fear man! That girl wants you, she wants you real bad.”

Bucky jerked back, blinking hard. “No.”

Steve nodded as he looked over at him. “That wasn't fear pal, that was panic, I can tell you this much – Y/N is quiet because when she does speak she can't keep her mouth in check, which usually tends to land her in hot water.”

Bucky turned to Sam, who was wiping away a few tears, “she has literally called us both hot, but said there was no way she would date us.”

“But when I asked her for her opinion on you–” Steve laughed, but sobered and leveled a look at him, “buddy, ya need to talk to her.”

“It was pretty colorful,” Sam murmured

“What did she say?” Bucky asked.

Sam shook his head, looking over at Steve, “did you see the way she shivered at the look?”

Steve nodded laughing as he moved around Bucky, “makes you realize what she said had to be true.”

Sam gasped as the two continued to walk, “Y/N! She really is full of surprises! Scandalous!!!”

“WHAT DID SHE SAY?!” Bucky cried following the two.

[mingtinys]

For Lovers Who Hesitate

pairing : jeong yunho x f!reader , (no gendered terms used)

angst , hurt / comfort , bittersweet ending , nonidol!au

warnings : language , mentions of alcohol

word count : 1.7 k

requested ? yes

a/n : this was written with the intention of a f!reader as per the request, but i think i actually ended up writing it without any use of gendered terms

Love, show me love If I can, if I only can I will shine a bright light on you

Yunho loves you. He always has.

He loved you hopelessly through childhood. From the moment you moved in next door to the day you held his hand at your high school graduation.

He loved you unapologetically throughout university. Through all the long nights you spent studying in the library. Through every gross, smelly, frat party he rescued you from after having a little too much to drink. Through his lowest points and his highest moments, his memories are filled with nothing but your comforting words and cheers for his achievements.

When you drunkenly kissed him at Hongjoong's New Year's party, he swore he loved you more than ever.

Yunho loved you selfishly through your first relationship and quietly through your first true heartbreak. He loved you recklessly and impulsively when your lease ended and he suggested you just come live with him. Even if he knew it was a bad idea.

And Yunho, unfortunately, still loves you the night his world crumbles.

You're still drunk, clinging tightly to Yunho as he struggles to hold you upright while fighting with his key and the lock. You groan out something about your head hurting. It makes Yunho laugh.

"Yeah, well that's what you get for challenging Jongho to a drinking contest." Finally, the key slips in and he's able to drag you over the threshold and onto the couch for the time being. "I don't think I've seen you drink that much since our sophomore year."

"I've learned my lesson, now please stop talking so loud," you whine, throwing your arm over your eyes to block out the harsh lights of the living room. Yunho forgoes mentioning that his voice is merely above a whisper and flips off all but the standing lamp in the corner.

"Thank you," you mumble.

"You've got ten minutes here before I'm dragging you to sleep in a real bed." He teases, knowing too well your habit of just knocking out on the couch and waking up the next day with complaints of your neck hurting.

"I really didn't mean to get this drunk, but Jongho just kept going. That guy is insane. You gotta admit though, I held up pretty well there for a while. . ." Yunho takes the end of the couch and lets you ramble. Finding your inability to filter out any thought before it reaches your lips rather entertaining.

"Not to mention I got five–" you hold up your palm with fingers splayed for emphasis –"bucks off of Mingi. Pff, asshole seriously thought I'd tap out after the fifth shot." Yunho bites back a smile, remembering the look on his friend's face as he begrudgingly slapped a five in your palm.

"–And I really just wanted to have one more memorable night with all of you before I leave–"

You keep going, but Yunho feels his world stop on its axis. The words "before I leave" are suspended in the air and making it heavier. He nearly chokes trying to take a breath only to find the air has left his lungs.

"W-What did you say?"

Your words taper out, and you lift your arm to peek an eye out at him. "Wait, which part?"

"What do you mean before you leave, Y/N?" The question comes out more desperate than he intends.

Your head pops up, and Yunho watches realization hit you like a bucket of ice water. Leaving you sober and wide-eyed. "I didn't mean to say that. . ."

Yunho so desperately hopes it was a slip of the tongue. Just your alcohol-laced brain mixing up your words. But the look on your face and the weight in the air snuffs out that last ember of hope. The conversation of what you told him last week about being interviewed for an internship resurfaces. The tab you accidentally left open on your laptop with price estimates for flights to Europe. Yunho can feel every single year of missed opportunities crash down on him in full force all at once. The tears well up in his eyes before he can stop them.

"I um," your voice wavers. "I was going to tell you. I just couldn't find the right time."

You give him a pause to respond, but Yunho doesn't speak. He can't speak.

"Do you remember the internship I applied for? They want me to take up my dream position at their office in France." Yunho's breath hitches at your words. You reach for his hand, taking it in both of yours, but Yunho finds it hard to take comfort in the gesture. "It wouldn't be forever! Three years max, two if it goes really well, then they'd transfer me back to Seoul for a permanent job."

"How long?" When he finally gains the courage to look at you there are glistening streaks down your cheeks. "How long until you have to go?"

"A week."

A week? A fucking week?

Yunho doesn't know how he should feel. Which emotions he should let bubble to the surface and which he should bury deep inside for your sake. Anger. Hurt. Despair. It's all too much.

"I haven't decided yet." It should make Yunho feel better, nothing is set in stone quite yet, but it doesn't. Because he has this sickening feeling you're about to ask him if you should go and he isn't positive he can give you a selfless answer. The answer he knows he should give. The answer that will simultaneously rip his heart into shreds.

So he speaks first, voice quiet and unsure. "It sounds like a really good offer. I'm not sure why you'd say no–"

"I would if you asked me to."

Time freezes the moment those words leave your lips. And it's in that lingering state that Yunho realizes he's waited too long. That maybe, just maybe, this whole time you've loved him just as much as he has you. That all those times he's convinced himself out of saying those three simple words were nothing but opportunities wasted. The regret of never being brave enough, of hesitating for reasons now null, is so overwhelming it nearly drowns him.

Yunho isn't sure if you remember anything you said in the morning. Because you tell him the news again over breakfast and it hurts even worse the second time around. But this time he's prepared, so he slaps on a mask of excitement and holds back the bitter taste on his tongue as he congratulates you.

Even as you ask him that question he's been dreading, he keeps the façade.

"Really? So you think I should take it?"

"It's been your dream since forever, it'd be pretty stupid to pass up something like this."

"Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Yun, for everything."

In fact, he keeps up the façade of selfless excitement for his best friend until the night before you depart. Until you seek him out in his room just past eleven.

"Could I stay with you tonight?"

What's he gonna do? Say no? When has he ever been able to deny you? So he nods and pats the spot next to him and sits with you until you're ready to talk.

"Nervous for tomorrow?"

You sigh. "Who wouldn't be? I'm leaving everything– everyone I know and love behind."

"Just for two years," Yunho reassures. Though the phrase is more for himself. It brings no comfort.

A silence falls, and in it you’ve drifted closer, knees bumping Yunho's and hand clasped in his. He feels your breath on his face before he registers what's happening. Your fingertips against his jaw, your nose brushing his, his heart violently slamming against his ribs. Yunho can feel every minuscule sensation like a storm brewing on the horizon and it nearly sends him spiraling.

But then, your lips press against his. The bed creaks under your shifting weight. Your touch is anguish and mercy all in one. Yunho's hand finds its place on your hip, anchoring him, and the rainclouds dissipate before they can pour down from above. Parting so that a bright light may shine down on you.

Yunho loves you. Always has. Always will. And as hard as he's tried, for your sake and his, for as long as he has, he can't hold it back anymore. Yunho's resolve is nothing but a shadow of what it once was. Even if you leave, even if you stay; in spite of it all, he will not delay the dream he's dreaming ever again.

"I love you."

For a moment, Yunho isn't sure if the words actually left his tongue. The only indication he has of their existence comes seconds later with a small gasp that leaves your lips as you pull away. Your eyes bore into his like you're searching for something in them. Yunho isn't sure if you ever find whatever it is you're looking for. Or perhaps you do, because your lips part and you whisper that same sentence that can make his heart stop in an instant.

"Tell me to stay. I will."

He wants to. You've no idea how badly he wants to be selfish. To utter that one simple word and have you in his arms forever, here, just like you are now. But he knows he can't.

It's unfair to you. To hold you back from your dream just because he was too cowardly to do something he should have long ago. Because he hesitated for too long. Because he was too stupid to see what was right in front of him all along. So instead, he bookmarks this moment. Takes note of the way you fit in his arms, the warmth of your lips on his, the moment when his heart finally felt full. He jots it all down under the chapter of things to never forget. And when the lingering feeling you leave becomes too much, when his lonely heart can't be soothed, he'll open this page and read it. Over and over. Until the day you return, he'll recite it like a poem.

"I'll wait for you," he says, with more certainty than he's ever felt in his life.

Then, when night comes  We will carve our own secret  I place a bookmark on the night that will become memorable, and open it up without anyone knowing 

[thezombieprostitute]

Alphas & Algorithms - Part 6 - Secrets

A/N: Continued from Part 5. Reader is female and is described as "tall". No other descriptors.

Warnings: It is a Dystopian AU. Food scarcity, hunger, mentions of families being separated. Discussion of non-consensual relationships and unwanted pregnancy. Bullying. Please let me know if I missed any!

--Part 1-- --Part 7--

--Series Masterlist--

Curtis was feeling a little dazed as Y/N led him to what she called "the community center" of the building. He knew it was the temporary mark and Y/N had made sure to make check that he was still okay, still himself. He couldn't deny the fake bite made him think of Y/N in a more romantic way, as evidenced by the fact that he grabbed her hand for their walk.

He was having to check his thoughts a lot more often than usual. Thoughts about how her scent was the most soothing thing he'd ever smelled. About how her smile made him want to smile. It was distracting from his primary goal, finding Stevie. It also made him worry about how brain-dead he might become if he did fully bond with Y/N. How much of himself would he lose?

She stopped and gave him a concerned look and he felt his heart beat faster, knowing she was worried about him. "I'll be okay," he reassured. "This temporary mark stuff is just hitting harder than I thought it would."

She nodded sympathetically, "for what it's worth, the "high" created from bonds, temporary or permanent, do fade. In the case of permanent marks, the high returns during heats and ruts, but you go back to "normal" in between those times."

"How do you know?"

"Because I've seen it with the other Omegas and their Alphas. I saw a bit of with my own parents." The last part Y/N mostly whispers. She hasn't told Curtis everything about her father but it's clear he was not a good man. Before Curtis can bring her in for a hug, she gently shakes herself, smiles and motions for them to continue walking.

Y/N had hoped that the Community Center would be empty. She didn't want the other Omegas to scare Curtis away. Unfortunately, as soon as they stepped inside, she knew Colin and Suzanne were there, too. Y/N took a deep breath and started showing Curtis all of the amenities.

It took all of five minutes before Colin came out of the pool area, "Nil! You've finally gotten yourself an Alpha!"

"Hello Colin. He is not my Alpha at this time. We're still in the courting phase."

Colin laughed, "Oh, Nil, of course you'd want to court. You're so boring and old fashioned. But, maybe when you'll "loosen up" after you finally get laid."

Y/N puts a hand on Curtis's chest. She can feel how upset he is and wants to keep him from starting a fight. The situation isn't helped when Suzanne comes out of library.

"Oh, Nil! You finally got yourself a toy! Care to share?" She takes a whiff and pouts, "oh, you gave him a mark? Ugh. That muddles up his scent. You're just no fun."

"A temporary mark is protocol," Y/N says.

"Yeah," Colin chimes in, "a protocol you set up because you can't handle a couple fights over toys."

"They're not toys," Y/N responds, "they're people. It's cruel to make sport of them like that."

Suzanne snorts, "it wasn't sport, it was just fun. How the hell do you grow up without a sense of humor?"

"Cruelty is not humor," Y/N whispers.

Curtis is enraged but he can feel that you don't want him to act on those emotions so he distracts himself, "why do they call you "Nil"?"

Colin pipes up, "it's a nickname I came up with, myself! It's shortened from "vanilla" for her scent and reminds her of how much we care about her." Suzanne snort laughs at that.

Before Curtis can even growl Y/N smiles at him, "I let them call me that because it's, legitimately, the most clever thing Colin has ever done in his life." Suzanne laughs even harder while Colin's smile drops. Curtis gives Y/N a look that said how proud he was of her that she wasn't just taking their bullying.

"Ugh," Colin interrupts the moment. "She gets one Alpha and she becomes a complete bitch. Unable to take a joke. You don't have to be so mean, Y/N." He stormed out of the center, as Suzanne chuckled.

"Actually, Nil," Suzanne said, "I owe you one." Y/N gives her a confused look. "That spicy Alpha you turned down has been a lot of fun to play with. I love breaking the smart-asses."

Y/N sighs, "I'll never understand the enjoyment from "breaking" someone. He's a person, not a thing."

"You play with your toys your way, I'll play with mine my way," she purrs. "If you ever want to get rid of this one, let me know. I'll happily take him off your hands." When Y/N did not react with a laugh, Suzanne huffed a bit and walked back to the library, murmuring something about "bitch needs to get laid."

Y/N looks deep in Curtis's eyes, "thank you, so much, for holding back. It really means a lot to me that you let me fight my own battles. That you trust me to defend you from them. That...that you'd want to defend me. Thank you."

"Are all Omegas such assholes?"

"One or two of us are decent folk. It's theorized that being a bully is a side effect of our inability to lie. I think that's just the excuse they use to say whatever they want."

"You can't lie?"

"We're...Omegas are..."trained" at an early age to never lie," Y/N tenses as she tells him this. "We can't help the AI if we tell lies. But, let's get back to the tour, yes?"

She takes a step away before Curtis can respond and shows him around the rest of the community center. At the pool Curtis makes a comment about not knowing how to swim and she quickly promises to teach him, if he's interested. But when she opens to the door to the gym, she freezes.

There's a tall, broad, dark-haired Alpha at the punching bags. As soon as he notices their scents, he stops. Y/N says, "so sorry, Frank. Didn't know you were in here. We'll leave you to it."

She closes the door to the gym and tells Curtis they need to get back to her apartment. He tries to ask what's going on but she promises to tell him when they're back at her rooms.

Back at the apartment, Y/N flies to the kitchen and starts getting into her herbs. Curtis follows, wary of some of the stronger smelling ones, and asks, "so what was all of that about? You weren't afraid of that Alpha but you're running away?"

"You're right," Y/N says, "I'm not afraid of Frank. It was more his presence at the gym indicates Peggy's heat is done and she'll need some teas to help with some post-heat issues."

"Isn't that supposed to be an Alpha's job? Or her Beta's?"

Y/N paused, looking sad, "if Frank and Peggy actually cared about each other, or were actually mated, maybe. As it is, neither of them want this relationship." She goes back to work with her herbs as she talks. "Peggy never wanted an Alpha. Never wanted a mate. She refused every scent the AI offered her, hoping she'd be allowed to just skip all of it. Instead, the AI selected the most biologically compatible Alpha and put them together during her heat. The problem is, Frank already has a mate. And children."

Curtis tensed at this information. Separating Packs was bad enough, but damaging mating bonds was unspeakable.

"Because her heats get so rough, she asked me to make some special teas to help her recovery. Her Beta should be around soon to pick them up, so please do keep an ear out for the door."

"Sure," Curtis nods. "I can't imagine bringing a pup into that kind of relationship."

"Well, so far, Peggy hasn't conceived. Per the AI's rules, if there's been no conception after four or five heats, the Alpha is returned to his Pack and another Alpha is selected."

"Does that happen often?"

"Not really. Maybe once or twice before."

Before Curtis can ask a follow up, there's a knock at the door and he goes to answer it. He opens the door and freezes. Stevie.

"Hi," he says, "I'm looking for Y/N?"

Curtis steps back to let him in as they hear Y/N sneezing a couple times.

"You okay, Y/N?" Stevie asks.

"Yeah, Steve, just had a bit of a mishap with some of these herbs," she calls from the kitchen. "This is Curtis, by the way! He's the Alpha that I'm courting."

Steve, not Stevie, Curtis thinks.

Steve looks at Curtis and introduces himself, as if they never knew each other before. He holds out his hand for a shake and, when Curtis grabs it, he feels the note pass from Steve's fingers to his own hand. As soon as he is able, he pockets it.

Y/N comes out of the kitchen, still sniffling a bit, carrying a small box of tea. As the two exchange pleasantries, Curtis gives Steve a hand gesture from ages ago. The hand gesture that asked, do you need me to step in? Steve responds with his own hand gesture, indicating, I've got this. A communication they created years ago when Stevie would keep getting into fights, calling out bullies. It's his little brother.

After Stevie (Steve, he corrects himself) leaves, Curtis feels a bit lightheaded and sits down. Y/N is instantly beside him asking if he needs anything. Asking him what's wrong. He just shakes his head and finds himself tongue twisted. Y/N hugs him and holds him until he can get a handle on his emotional state.

He tries to apologize but Y/N cuts him off. "You never know when you're going to encounter a trigger. Especially if it's of a trauma you thought you'd put behind you." She touches his chin and moves his face to look into her eyes, "I want you to know, if you want to talk, I will listen. If you don't want to talk about it, just let me know and I won't ask. I promise you."

"Why?"

"Not everyone is ready to talk about things. Not everyone wants to talk about things. In my own way, I understand that. And I want you to know, that I will always respect your right to stay quiet as much as I respect your right to speak."

"You really mean that?"

"Absolutely," Y/N nods.

"This might be a bit forward, might be the temporary mark, but," Curtis hesitates, "can I hold you on the couch while my head settles? Your scent is very calming."

"Of course," Y/N says as she leads him to the couch. She sits down and gestures for Curtis to sit next to her. When he sits he wraps his arms around her and brings her close, filling his mind with her scent, centering himself.

After a while he's calmed down and pulls himself away from her. He has to get home.

After the pups have gone to bed, Curtis takes out the note Steve had given him.

Everything said is heard. She protects our secrets. Please protect her so we can protect our Packs.

He shares the note with Andrew and Tanya. No matter how much he wants to help his little brother, he has to think of the Pack. He's not leaving them high and dry. It has to be a Pack decision.

"We'll have to make sure the pups understand on some level," Tanya whispers. "Any chance of making this a more gradual adjustment for them?"

"Her heat isn't for another couple of weeks, that's all the time I could promise."

"Can we get it so that you move with us," Andrew asked. "At least at first, to help the kids with the transition?"

"I don't know. I'll have to ask," Curtis is relieved and frustrated. He had hoped they'd be understanding but part of him had also hoped he wouldn't have to leave. That they'd still ask him to stay and he'd get off the radar of both the AI and the Revolution.

"What do you think he means with that, "She protects our secrets" bit?" Tanya asked. "You said Omegas can't lie, right? And their whole job is to rat out people to the AI."

"The tea," Andrew whispered. "She would've smelled the connection between you and Steve but she just conveniently had a mishap with the herbs she's got years of experience with?"

Tanya perked up, "and some of that tea might be helping get Frank back to his mate. At Peggy's request from the sound of it."

Curtis thinks about everything that happened today. Y/N never said anything untrue. The temporary mark kept the other Omegas from possibly identifying him as related to Steve. He had a lot to think about between now and when he saw her again.

--Part 7--

Tagging @every-username-is-taken-damnit, per request.

[miscelunaaa]

flurious | ksj

pairing: seokjin x female reader

genre: college au ig. slice of life?? really I have no idea tbh

summary: it's fine, you're not mad at your best friend at all! in fact!! you're so fine that you're going to work off some steam just to prove how fine you are!!

rating: T for too much swearing

word count: 3k

warnings: Based On Real Events™️ (at least in part). Reader can’t ice skate. Lots of swearing. Reader is a stubborn piece of shit (affectionate). Himbecile Namjoon (derogatory). Unrequited crushes if you squint. Very cold winter environments. Small college vibes. Lots of talk about falling on one’s butt and bruises and common impact injuries associated with learning how to do coordinated things like ice skating for the first time; reader’s a tough nugget, she’s doing great. She might also have a slight pain kink oops. Vague prejudice against tenors I’m sorry. Crack if you squint. Angst if you squint. The only thing fluffy about this fic is Jin’s coat tbh, it’s intended to be more of a slice of life than anything else.

notes: Hi. It's missing Seokjin hours in the emothy household so have a short oneshot that I started months ago and randomly finished last night when I couldn't sleep. This really is actually based on a real experience I had, but that's all I'm going to say about the matter alksjhfalsjkdh

For once, I’m not feeling super long winded, so we’re going to leave it at that! Enjoy <3

my masterlist | my disclaimers | read on ao3

The student union is vacant when you walk into its warm, welcoming arms. It’s perfect. No one can judge you for what you’re about to attempt and that’s exactly what you want.

“I’d like to rent a pair of skates please,” you ask the student worker at the desk. 

She blearily looks up from a thick textbook and asks for your shoe size before standing to fetch them from the equipment closet. In return for the skates, you leave your student I.D. The entire exchange takes mere seconds. You haven’t even regained the warmth in your nose before you’re stepping back out into the cold night and stomping off to the shabby, makeshift ice rink on the quad. 

It’s a clear evening. The stars flicker coldly above, making the eerie yellow light of the campus’s many lamp posts seem warm in comparison. It’s a Saturday evening; no one’s wandering around the tiny college at this strangely late hour, not with a foot of snow pack on the ground, so there’s no one around to watch you angrily try to teach yourself to ice skate. 

Anger comes naturally to you. It’s easy, if not outright comfortable, for you to just sit and stew in the emotion. Yet still it’s all to your detriment, making you feel frazzled and out of control. Times like this call for full body distractions, and what’s better than teaching yourself something you’ve literally never done before?

Falling on your ass is the perfect distraction from your asshole best friend’s bullshit right now. It’s fucking perfect and nothing is stopping you from doing this, least of all him. After all, he’s the one who came back from winter break with a fancy new hair cut and now allll the girls are like “uwu Joonie you look so nice without the perm.” While he’s getting all that attention there’s nothing to stop you from sneaking away, because why on earth would he pay attention to you, his fucking best friend, when he could be paying attention to girls far cuter than you even if they’d thought he was gross when he had the perm? God he’s so fucking stupid. 

It doesn’t bother you at all. You don’t really see the difference anyway. He’s still a total freak even without the perm so you don’t really get the hype. It’ll take five minutes for the fawning to cease because in that time he’ll open his big dumb mouth and anyone with two brain cells to rub together will see how much of a dweeb he still is. Even so, the people continue to come in flocks and crowd you out. There’s alway someone new who wants to look at the newly pretty boy. 

Fuck ... being ignored like that (to your face!!) fucking hurts. Anger is always preferable to the sting of being ignored. The anger means that you’re at least trying to be productive, even as you hide yourself away from the world. The cold is as good a shield as any. 

You sit on the rickety edge of the rink and kick off your boots. Carefully, you pull on each skate and lace them up tight, making sure that your ankles have no room to roll. You find yourself swearing angrily as your gloved hands struggle with the laces, but your anger bolsters your persistence. Nothing can take you down from this high, not even the threat of absolutely biffing it like you know you’re going to.

It takes a moment to talk yourself into standing once you’ve set the blades to the ice. “Just stand to start” is what you tell yourself. After a few moments, and a flash or two of dimples in your mind’s eye, you get yourself to stand. 

With arms flailing, you stay upright for a good ten seconds. Your fatal flaw, however, is hubris. In your hubris you thought you could take a tentative step forward. 

As it turns out, ice can smell fear and has an impact play kink. 

You stare up at the sky for a moment after your first fall. Your ass hurts and will probably ache like a bitch tomorrow, but honestly you’re kind of a masochist; you’re not not into this. Why else would you be in this situation, so angry with your annoyingly cute freak of a best friend that you can hardly function? You knew he was handsome underneath the questionable aesthetic choices, and you knew he was dumb enough that he’d start ignoring you to talk to people he was more romantically interested in as soon as he fixed his appearance. You always knew this would happen, and yet you invested time in him anyway. You always rate last; experiencing this pain was only a matter of time. 

And yet, the seconds tick by. You steel yourself and carefully stand, avoiding a second slip, but only just. You narrow your eyes at your goal: the rink wall opposite of where you started. You’re going to fucking do this, falls be damned. It’s like ten yards. You can totally do this. You’re going to make this stupid ice your bitch.

Eight seconds later, you’re on your ass again. But hey, you made it a few feet forward. Progress is still progress in spite of accrued costs.

And so you stand again. You try doing that pushing thing with the blade of the skate, but something in your body doesn’t expect to move, so you wobble unsteadily for a moment. A breath, and then another push, more gently this time. Ah, you’re doing it! Yet another push and—

Well ... At least the stars make good company. Your elbow hurts this time; you must’ve whacked it in the fall. Feels like it’ll bruise but that’s just the cost of doing business with this rink and your own stupidity. You carefully scramble up, and try again. 

When you finally make it to the other side of the rink, you’re so excited that you trip into the little wall. At least you can catch yourself with your hands this way. And hey, moving to a sitting position isn’t so hard! The cold soothes your achey butt as you let yourself relax for a moment. 

Maybe this was a stupid idea. You can feel the high of white hot rage beginning to cool. You’re not sure if it’s the pain or the exertion. Maybe it’s time to pack up and return the skates. It’s getting late after all, you probably need to at least try to sleep. 

You’re so mired in your thoughts that you almost miss the backlit figure appear, exiting the student union. Whoever it is is wearing a big puffy coat, and they have something odd looking in their hands. After a moment you realize, heat crawling up your neck, that the item in their hands is a pair of skates, and they’re walking across the quad to the rink.

You stand quickly, albeit unsteadily, as if to show that the rink is occupied, but alas, they seem undeterred. Shit. The only thing that could make this worse is if you were to suddenly loose your balance.

Lo and behold, fate has a sense of humor, and you do just that before you can think to do anything else.

You grimace as you sit up. You weren’t expecting an audience for this. As the figure approaches, you see that it’s one of the guys who works the student union’s cafe some evenings. He’s always seemed nice enough and ugh, he’s cute too. He’s got these broad shoulders that your friends love to stare at while they wait for their drinks to be made. Definitely not the audience you’d prefer if you must have one. As you scramble back upright, he sits at the edge of the rink and starts to unlace his boots. 

“Hello,” he says quietly, glancing up as he pulls on a skate. His voice is low, with a rich timbre you didn’t expect. He sounds like he might be a tenor. You hate tenors. You hate musicians. Namjoon’s a musician too, the bastard.

“Hi,” you reply flatly, trying not to grit your teeth in frustration. You don’t even look at him when he looks at you; you don’t need his approval, and looking at him will just make you shy. You don’t have time for that shit, damn it. With care, you try to push forward again, before stopping, arms flailing. You only just manage to preserve your balance and straighten up so you can try again.

The intruder watches you warily as he starts to pull on his rented skates. You can feel the press of his curiosity on the back of your neck and you don’t know how to politely ask for him to simply not.

You’re pretty sure you see him flinch when your skates suddenly, but inevitably, slip out from beneath you, leaving you sprawled out on your ass, the ice beneath cold yet soothing for your bruised buttocks. And yet, he says nothing as he pushes off from the side of the rink, gracefully no less. He says nothing as you pull yourself up again, only to fall again as well, just as you were finding your balance. You take a deep breath, fog slowly coming from your lips as you let it out. Once you’re to your feet again, and without falling this time, you can’t help but let yourself smile, just a little, just to yourself. 

Giving up whomst? You could never. 

For a moment, you just stand on the ice, breathing and letting yourself feel the skates wrapped around your feet and ankles. Just a small push now. Can’t let this rando see you sweat now, can you?

The stranger watches, his handsome face blank but for curious eyes, as you make it a whole fifteen seconds before slipping and falling again, this time onto a knee and your hands. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him grimace as you look at your hands and dust them of with a huffed little “fuck.”

He’s literally skating circles around you. It’s fucking obnoxious, but damn it, you want to be able to skate like that too. So you stand up again, and vicious cycle begins anew.

“You okay?” the stranger suddenly asks. It startles you, the wobble almost sending you to the ice with a crack yet again. 

“I’m fine.” Your tone is clipped with frustration. You sure as shit don’t sound fine.

He drifts across your field of vision, going fucking backwards on his skates. It’s like it’s nothing! Fucking show off. What a fucking d—

Alright. That fall kind of hurt for real. Your poor elbows. They might be having a worse time than your knees. Did you just knock the wind out of yourself with that one?

His words come from a little closer this time. “Are you sure you’re—“

“—I’m fucking fine.”

You didn’t mean to snap. You really didn’t. Everything was fine until this dude just joined you out here out of the blue with his stupid face and his stupid talent and—

“You’re really scrappy, you know that right?”

You glare at him as you push yourself back to your feet. His plush mouth splits into a heart-rending smile. Fuck, he’s cute. Bitch, do not do this to yourself.

He keeps talking as you struggle aright. “I mean it. I’ve never watched someone keep falling like that just to get up and try again.”

You’re not even sure what to say to that. You’re glad you’ve got the built in focus of trying to do something out of your comfort zone and skill set, so an immediate reply isn’t expected. But you do have to say something in reply eventually. The comment was just ... kind of unexpected. And honestly, you think he meant it well, and it’s hard not to let the pride push a smile to your face. You fight it, of course, because you’re supposed to be angry, not pleased.

“I’m too stubborn for my own good,” you finally grit out. “But thank you.” Ah, that was good. Keep that shit up, and maybe he won’t think you’re a total freak by the time one or the other of you leaves. 

“There are worse things to be.” His smile is warm enough to melt the ice beneath the blades of your skates. Cold? What cold? You feel nothing but blistering heat creeping up your neck. You’re not used to this kind of attention from anyone, if you’re being honest, let alone cute barista boys in puffy coats. “Tenacity isn’t a bad thing.”

“The bruises on my ass say otherwise.”

When he laughs, it’s low in his chest, velvety like the milk he steams for the cute folks that come to him for lattes and London fogs. You’d be swept away by his charms completely as well if you weren’t too busy being swept off your feet by your own stupidity. 

You hardly feel the thump when you hit the hard surface of the ice this time. You’re not sure if it’s because you’re cold or if it’s just you’re used to falling now. The numbness of either is the same after a certain point; that’s the point of numbness, after all.

For a moment, you stare at the sky. It gives you a moment to catch your breath. Watching the stars twinkle and flicker as if they’re laughing at something reminds you that, right, you’re not alone out here on the ice. You hope the stars aren’t laughing at your shitty attempts to flirt with this stranger. 

When you pull yourself up to sit, you see that the cute stranger is carefully skating backwards, his head turned and tilted so he can see where he’s going. Good lord, he’s handsome, even like this. In the grimy street lamp light, you can see that his face has been kissed by the cold, but it doesn’t do much to make him look less attractive. The focus on his face makes it almost look suggestive as he bites down on his plush lip. For a moment, you allow yourself to watch, thankful that he’s not looking at you.

When he glances at you, still sitting on the ice with your legs spread haphazardly, your eyes meet his. He smiles at you. Suddenly, the air leaves your lungs as if you’ve fallen again, the wind knocked from them like you’ve taken a blow. And then as soon as it happens, it stops, for one moment he was smiling at you, and the next he was sprawled on the ice with a thud and the smallest, cutest “fuck” you’ve ever heard in your life.

The look of surprise on his face is so aghast that you can’t help but laugh. 

“I’m so—“ wheeze “—s-sorry, I shouldn’t—“ fuck, that’s hilarious “—laugh b-but the look on your f-face!” 

The shock fades, only to be replaced by a pout that cracks at the edges as he tries not to laugh with you. 

You start to push yourself forward him, half crawling, half crab-walking. Soon the pout breaks into a smile as you sit beside him and poke his cheek with a gloved finger. Where on earth did that fucking come from?? You’re poking strangers now?? 

“How does it feel to be a mere mortal?” you ask. Maybe the question will distract from the ... random face poking? Maybe the cold really is getting to you. 

“Never said I was good at skating,” he says, still smiling at you. “Though I can’t say I feel like getting up and trying again after that.”

You scoff. “You’re giving up too easily. What’s the opposite of tenacious?” 

“Cold.”

“That’s fair. I’m not even sure if I can feel my ass at this point.”

He laughs, and the deep sound seems to rumble in his chest, just like it had when you’d first heard it. But then he does the unexpected, and holds out a hand to you. “I’m Seokjin, by the way.”

You shake his hand and introduce yourself in kind. “You work at the cafe right?”

“Yeah. It gets hot back there, I like doing something in the cold after a shift if I can.”

You nod. “I get it. I’m out here because a friend pissed me off and I needed to work through it.”

“Can’t kick their ass so you’re letting the ice kick your ass instead?”

Not even the heat of embarrassment can heat up your cold cheeks at this point. He’s read you like a book. You’re poking strangers, and he’s reading you like he probably reads his homework. 

“Alright, it’s getting really fucking cold out here,” Seokjin suddenly says. He pulls himself towards the nearest sideboard and sits on top of it. “I’m calling it a night.”

You don’t expect his expectant look. “What?”

“You’ve been out here longer than me. Can you even feel your fingers at this point?”

“Um.” There’s some small part of you that doesn’t want this to end, but lying about it feels futile when you know he’s going to see right through it. “No.”

“I think it might be a good idea for you to head in too ...” he says, and then: “I could sneak back into the cafe for some hot water. Want to have some tea to warm up? Maybe you could talk about this friend who pissed you off.”

It’s late, if you’re being honest. You should probably go home and lick your wounds. But as you pull yourself up onto the sideboard with Seokjin, you decide that staying out might be worth it. Staying out in the first place is what got you on the ice. Staying out kept you here, which in turn meant you got to meet Seokjin. Staying out meant you got to talk and have this moment. It’s a relief to just be able to talk, rather than fight for someone’s attention.

What’s another few minutes?

“Sure, I’d like that.”

Thank you for reading! Drop me an ask and tell me what you think. Find me in various places at my carrd :)

©miscelunaaa 2022. My work is only found on this blog and under my ao3 pseud. Do not, under any circumstances, copy or repost my work. Thank you.

posted: 12.6.2022

[nehswritesstuffs]

Double-Date from Hell

Y’all ever think of something so hilarious that you HAVE to write it, and then it just spirals out of control? Yeah, this is it.

8941 words; I’ve seen versions of this general joke going around and it’s still pretty funny in my brain so please just humor me; I guess it’s a Modern AU w/No Devil Fruits, but Brook is still a skeleton and Minks and Fish-men exist… somehow…? idk; SO MANY PEOPLE ARE ALIVE IN THIS AU THAT SHOULDN’T BE but you know what this is my story too damn bad I mean it’s already set in a quasi-Midwest metro; this took me so long to write because I kept cracking the fck up and I’m sure you’ll be able to tell where

Double-Date from Hell; Law has a new girlfriend. Cora-san’s got a hot date. Nami’s shagging a doctor. Things might be easier if Bell-mère had mentioned to her daughters she’s actually bi before she reconnected with an old flame. [modern!AU, LawNa, Bellazón]

Shuffling into the kitchen, Law blearily went into the fridge and began to poke around almost absentmindedly, hunger the only reason as to why he was currently existing on the mortal plane. What had supposed to be a twelve-hour shift in Logue Town General’s emergency room—as a favor, no less!—had turned into a twenty thanks to the perfect storm of call-offs and reckless pieces of bullshit trying to copy a social media trend. It reminded him of why he never wanted to stay down in Emergency full-time—fuck… doing clinicals there had been bad enough…

“Oh, there’s the sleepy-head!” Law jumped at the sudden confirmation that his father was in the room as well. He took a container filled with leftover noodles and popped it in the microwave oven with a bit more aggression than was necessary. “Rough night?”

“I remember when social media was used to share pictures of cats with poorly-spelled captions and complain about the accuracy of the fantasy book-to-movie pipeline, not to show off doing handstands in dangerous places and getting high off lip balm.” He glanced at his father to see he was dressed rather nice—that was a risk, considering how clumsy the older man was—though most things were better than his current pajama-pants-no-shirt-tousled-bedhead-at-four-in-the-afternoon look. “Cora-san, you know what happens when you wear a tie.”

“I know, I know, but I need to look nice tonight. What do you think?”

“That you look like a man about to turn forty who can’t so much as wear a tie without catching it on something every five minutes.”

“Well, yeah, but the shirt’s nice, right?”

An extremely pale pink with a red heart pattern; the tie was black, though his trousers were white.

“It’s… you.”

“I’ll take what I can get.” The microwave oven beeped at Law and he took the container out to stir. “Probably won’t be back until late, if I’m back at all tonight, so don’t worry if I’m not in.”

Law stopped mid-stir and stared at Cora. “Why would you both be alright, but also not come home tonight?”

“What, you can’t tell?! Your old man’s got a hot date!”

The silence that fell over the kitchen was simply unbearable. Law did not currently have the reserve mana to process that the grinning goofball he referred to as his foster father—foster roommate, on particularly irritating days—had anything even close to a potential sexual encounter lined up. He put the noodles back in the microwave oven and turned it on again.

“You don’t have to lie to me, you know,” he grumbled. “You know I don’t care what you do—we’re both adults now.”

“Oh, come on… you aren’t even the least bit happy for me?”

“I can’t legally be happy until I get at least six cups of coffee and these noodles in me, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine, fine; spoilsport.” Cora sat at the table and pouted, watching his son put together some coffee. He knew he was tired when he brought a mug of it over, as well as the noodles still in the container he heated them up in. “It’s not like I’m an old man—can’t I take inspiration from the fact my son got himself a cute girlfriend?”

“You’ve never met her, so there’s nothing to get inspired from,” Law replied dully. He twirled some of the long pasta on his fork and scowled. “No, this is not an offer for you to meet her either. I want to make sure of this one before that happens.”

“You make it sound like I’m embarrassing.”

“You picked me up from school in clown makeup.”

“It wasn’t that bad…”

“Multiple times.”

“It kept things interesting.”

“Kids recovering from near-terminal illness don’t exactly enjoy being interesting.”

“The assholes that were scared of clowns never bothered you after that.”

“Okay, that I’ll give you.” Law shoved more pasta in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “You know, I think I’ll go out tonight too—bound to be something going on.”

“There you go,” Cora beamed. “Here we are: a couple of young stallions, ready to make the night theirs!”

“Never again say those words in that order again, by all that is good in this world.”

“Spoilsport,” Cora scowled. A devilish grin then flashed across his face. “We should double-date!”

That too was a resounding, firm no.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was the generally-accepted consensus that there was no party like a Straw Hat party.

They weren’t all rowdy affairs that got the cops called at two in the morning—they reserved those for when the on-duty officers were ones likely to just turn the music down and bring their own drinks—but it was always the collection of people who were there that boggled Law’s mind. He had only started attending such shindigs recently after a weird series of events led to him pulling the charismatic teen out of the bay and helping make sure he was still alive. Luffy had declared them friends and that he now had an obligation to hang out, which would have been a one-and-done thing if it wasn’t for the people he collected in the nearly-rural house hidden amongst trees and actual property.

The East Blue kendo and archery champions? A world-class chef? A teenaged medical prodigy? The preeminent Void Century historian turning academia on its head? One of the most sought-after mechanical engineers in the world who also moonlighted in architecture? A living rock music legend? The man that kept literally all the trains in the region running smoothly? That didn’t even get into the kid’s brothers, or people outside of his innermost circle…

…and it certainly didn’t get into Nami.

He had originally begun talking to the redhead after observing her at that first party he attended. She was very level-headed—especially compared to Luffy despite that not meaning much—and knew precisely the situation they had going. It was the modern equivalent of the Enlightenment salon, where people got together and exchanged ideas and made changes happen. It was a counterculture hotbed with significantly fewer hard drugs and way more bellyflop competitions between people who couldn’t swim in the backyard’s in-ground pool. It was the next generation figuring shit out, getting ready to usher in a new age. Except, not only did the weather-and-surveying whiz keep everything running, it was very easy to say that she was the brains of the entire operation, making Luffy’s natural charm work for something. The next thing he knew they were chatting amiably, then kissing, and—after a considerable blackout—woke up very naked in bed with her the next morning.

It was a little awkward as they put everything together after that. They both thought the other was older than they really were (he thought her only a couple years younger than him instead of the actual six, and she thought he was well into his thirties (to be fair, he did say he was an actual surgeon while flirting)), and there was the wolf whistles that came out of some of the other Straw Hats as they went down to breakfast, but they settled into something… comfortable after that. The “crew” generally accepted him and he found their antics… tolerable, he guessed, especially considering what putting up with them meant for his love life…

“Oi! Witch! We need you to stop sucking geriatric face for two minutes and rein in Luffy!”

Nami groaned into Law’s mouth in frustration before breaking the kiss to glare at Zoro from across the large, open-concept living room that thankfully only contained the main Straw Hats crew aside from the man beneath her. Law knew to not remove his hands from her waist and rear, else she get pressured into something more involved. “What happened to someone saying he could handle him?”

All she got in response was a one-eyed glare.

“If she’s not back in two minutes like you said, Roronoa-ya, I will make you regret that age comment,” Law warned, voice dripping in sarcasm. Zoro flipped him his middle finger, which he returned.

“Boys, behave,” Nami sighed as she left the room. Law took it as his opportunity to see if there was any food available yet, shuffling over to the kitchen island where Sanji was working. A mug of coffee was already waiting for him as he sat down and watched the blond at work.

“Thanks,” he muttered, drinking the coffee gratefully.

“Just keep her happy,” Sanji replied. He and Law were in a tenuous sort of agreement, both men recognizing they were from the same Blue from the moment they met. Neither of them talked about it much, but it was clear that they were both in the East because it was not the North, and that was all they needed.

“If not, then you know it won’t be from lack of effort on my end.”

“True. Oh, Nami-swan told me the other day you don’t eat bread. Is it a gluten thing, or…?”

“Nah—just don’t like it. I physically can eat it, but just haven’t wanted to for a while now.”

“Not since home?”

“Something like that.”

“Okay, good, because I remember you eating breaded things the last few times you were over, but I have a special coating I can use if it’s a gluten issue.”

“Nope—just a preference.” Law sipped his coffee and watched the other man work, his hands nimble as he prepped and cooked. It reminded him of himself at his own craft, in a way, mesmerizing him until he felt a pair of arms warp around his midsection from behind. “Luffy tamed?”

“For the time being,” Nami murmured in his ear. “He’s going to be a handful next week when his brothers are over.”

“Not entirely sure how you do it,” he admitted. “Then again, I don’t know how any of you do it.”

“Luff just has that magnetism, you know?” Sanji chuckled. “When we’re all together, it’s because he knows we need to be in order to move forward. It’s why we’ve even got old-timers with us, as you know.”

“Nami, your friends are childish.”

“People wonder why I don’t date boys,” she replied. “That would just set both parties up for disappointment.”

“How true your words are, Nami-swan,” Sanji crooned. “We are all but mere amateurs compared to your beauty and grace. The fact you decide to honor us with your presence is more than we deserve.”

Fuck… to be that idiotically horny again. Law tried to remember the last time he said anything as stupid as the heart-eyed cook and, to be honest, couldn’t remember anything of the like. Seas… was he really that old…? No, he decided… just… busy during those years. He would take busy… as though busy was having an impact on him now…

“Sanji-kun,” Nami said sweetly, “I’m going to bring Torao upstairs for a little discussion before dinner, if that’s alright with you.”

“As you wish, Nami-swa~a~n,” the blond swooned. He blew her a kiss as she winked and pulled Law onto his feet.

This place was so fucking weird.

Heading up the stairs, Law silently followed Nami as she led him through the house he was already strikingly familiar with. They slipped into her room and she locked the door behind them. Finally—peace and quiet.

“Don’t you think you were a little rough on Blackleg-ya?” he asked as she unbuttoned his shirt. “I only meant it as a joke…”

“Don’t you worry about Sanji-kun,” she hummed, pressing kisses along his neck and collarbone as her fingers went over his toned abdomen. She guided him down to his knees before sitting on the edge of the mattress. With his hat long-forgotten in the living room, she was able to gently card her fingers through his fluffy hair as he turned his attention to her legs. He gently massaged her calves with his expert hands, wandering up her thighs. He went under the hem of her skirt and his eyebrows rose at what he discovered.

“Nothing…?” he smirked. “Naughty.” He lifted her leg to hook her knee on his shoulder before slowly tracing a line of his own kisses down her inner thigh and towards her hot, wet core. Hiking her skirt a bit higher, she let her other leg fall a bit more to the side, opening up for him. He lapped at her experimentally, smiling smugly at the noise she made.

“Fuck me good, Law-kun,” she ordered. “Make him hear me scream.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was quarter past four in the morning before Law actually left the house at 1000 Sunny Road, dragging his ass into his car and wishing it was quieter as he pulled away. The only consolations to his pre-dawn walk of shame was that he slipped out when all the other Straw Hats sans Nami were asleep and that he could still taste his girlfriend the entire drive back. She had seen him out after some additional, varied rounds in her bedroom, kissing him through the open car window.

“Don’t be a stranger now,” she had smirked. Fuck… she had him on a leash and they both knew it. Her taste had almost faded by the time he pulled into the driveway at his dad’s. He killed the engine and leaned back against the seat—a few hours of sleep and he could be back into something of a normal rhythm for when he went on day shifts the following week. It was all he could do to haul himself out the car and into the house, blaming his exhaustion on the twenty hour ER shift from hell messing with him and not his girlfriend fucking his brains out.

As Law walked through the dimly-lit house, he heard a snore come from the living room. He took a peek and saw Cora-san laying on the floor again, having passed out after some sort of fall. Again. Law hefted the other man onto his shoulder and helped him up the stairs to the main bedroom, where he deposited him on the mattress with little fanfare.

Wait a second… were those bite marks…? He looked closer at the bit of Cora-san’s chest that was exposed—buttons undone while his tie hung loose around his neck—and sure as shit, there were bite marks and smeared lipstick on both his chest and neck. It was a burnt-orange, which was definitely not a color that was in the house, lending credence to the “hot date” theory as much as Law shuddered at the thought.

He left a container of salve on the nightstand and made sure the other man was at least fully on the bed before going to sleep himself—with any luck, he wouldn’t have to hear a thing about the date and they continue on with their lives in peace. The less he could think about his father and sex, the better things were going to be.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“So… this old man you’re fucking… he at least cute in some weird geriatric way?”

“Ugh, what has Usopp been telling you?” Nami groaned. Her sister Nojiko chuckled at her from across the table, drinking her tea smugly. One of her rare mornings home and she was already being grilled. It was too early for this shit. “I’m not fucking an old man. He is in his twenties, thank you.”

“Turning thirty next month, is he?”

“He is twenty-six, for your information. He just looks a little rough because he’s got tattoos and is already a surgeon. Med school, clinical rotations, and residency are all vampires.”

“Sounds fishy to me,” Nojiko frowned. “I can’t be worrying after both you and Bell-mère now.”

“Bell-mère is a lesbian who just started reconnecting with an old flame from her Marine days,” Nami reasoned. “The circumstances are completely different.”

“You keep telling yourself that, sis,” Nojiko teased. “I still have on great confidence that he’s older than dirt, and that’s despite the fact you hang out with a man so old he’s a skeleton.”

“I am going to kill Usopp!”

“It wasn’t Usopp…”

“Who the fuck are you talking to behind my back?!”

It was then that their adoptive mother shuffled into the room, still half-asleep from the looks of things.

“I was woken by the sound of mockery; show me the object of ridicule,” Bell-mère grunted. She looked at her daughters and knew instantly what was going on. “We calling out the Old Man Fucker for what she is?”

“BELL-MÈRE!”

“Honey, if you’re planning on becoming a young widow, then at least make sure he’s loaded first,” Bell-mère said, unfazed by her youngest’s ire. She poked her head in the refrigerator and frowned. “Nojiko, sweetie, did you get more milk?”

“Haven’t been to the store yet,” her elder daughter said idly. “Will take care of it on my way back from work.”

“Since we’re currently in the habit of wanting to know about each other’s love lives,” Nami growled through grit teeth, “how’s Cora? That was your date’s name from when you went out the other night, eh?”

“That tongue still knows its way around a clit, let me tell you,” Bell-mère grinned devilishly. Both her daughters grew pale at the admission and immediately excused themselves from the table, neither in the mood for the conversation to go from zero to a hundred in less than a sentence.

Fine—ask about details, then run away at the details. Bell-mère chomped on dry cereal and wondered how she got two prudes for daughters.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Please don’t embarrass me more than they already do,” Law warned. He had his three best friends piled into his sensible, bright yellow crossover—Polar Tang—in the middle of making the huge mistake of driving them to the Straw Hats’ lair on a Saturday morning. They were already on the freeway, headed from the city towards the outer suburbs.

“We get it, we get it: you’re in it for the tight-ass pussy,” Shachi scoffed from the back seat. Penguin hit his shoulder in jest.

“If he was in it for just pussy, he wouldn’t be bringing us to the weirdo, sus-as-fuck party house in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere he goes to get said pussy in,” the other backseat gremlin said, tone rather matter-of-fact. “We’re a nurse and a couple of techs—how would we be embarrassing to a surgeon?”

“By talking about pussy the entire time,” Bepo stated flatly. He looked at Law and saw his grip on the steering wheel was unusually clenched. “Do you want me to drive?”

“No… I just need to remember this conversation for the next time I get asked why those two don’t just bite the bullet and get full nursing degrees instead of being the most overqualified nursing techs in the East Blue.”

“This,” Shachi said, pointing at himself with the first two fingers on both hands, “being able to sign off on patient care-related shit, would be dangerous and you know it.”

“It’s best for everyone involved that we stay Bepo’s gofers, because that makes us available as your gofers, and if we suddenly have to worry about shit like responsibilities, then where would you be?”

“Able to have competence on all my shifts?” Law snarked.

While tuning out the indignant protests in the back seat, Law turned off the freeway and headed towards Foosha Township, where Sunny Road was located. It was generally a tranquil road, with clusters of houses now and then to breakup wooded areas and the occasional farm. The car was thankfully quiet as he turned down a wooded drive, with Penguin breaking the silence as the conspicuously large house came into view.

“Law? Is this Straw Hat kid, like, loaded?”

“I don’t ask, so you don’t ask,” Law sighed. He parked the car on the front lawn next to Franky’s turquoise muscle car and turned to fully glare at the hooligans in the backseat. “Strawhat-ya’s not fully legit, but I don’t think he’s technically breaking any laws, and the cops here like him for some reason, so don’t fuck it up.”

“I thought you said the kid’s nineteen,” Penguin frowned. “How are you not wholly-legit at nineteen?!”

“Like I said: don’t ask.” Law then unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the Tang, getting some cloth shopping bags and his backpack from the trunk before heading around to the back of the house. It was just Luffy and his brothers there, all three splashing about in the shallow end of the pool while wearing arm floaties and inner tubes.

“TORAO!” Luffy squealed in delight. He jumped out of the pool and ran towards the surgeon—floatation devices and all—who got a sopping wet hug whether he liked it or not. “I was hoping that you’d come over today! Ace and Sabo are here! And Auncle Iva’s coming later! Grunkle Rayleigh can’t though because Grauntie Shakky made him promise something, and…”

“Strawhat-ya, I want you to meet the friends I was telling you about,” Law said, turning so that Luffy could get a good look at them. “That’s Penguin and Shachi, they’re nursing techs on my floor, and Bepo there’s one of the floor and hospital’s best charge nurses. We’ve known each other for ages.”

“Any friend of Torao’s a friend of mine!” Luffy grinned. He wrapped the two techs in a noodly hug, making them gurgle. “Oh! Yeah! Ace! Sabo! Say hi to Torao and his friends!”

“Luff, you’re going to kill them with affection,” Ace smirked.

“Yeah,” Sabo agreed with a laugh. “I don’t think we have enough space to bury more bodies in the backyard.”

“Please tell me that was a joke,” Shachi squeaked.

Law opted to not respond to that and instead left Penguin and Shachi in Luffy’s clutches while he and Bepo brought the bags in. Sanji was already in the kitchen prepping, while Usopp, Franky, and Brook played a racing game on the television.

“Did you get the goods?” the chef asked, pointing at Law with a knife. Law put one of the bags down and pulled out a bag of white powder covered in Wanolese script, which he threw at the man.

“I feel like I just watched a drug deal,” Bepo deadpanned.

“Even better than drugs,” Sanji claimed. “I don’t use a lot of it, but I’m practicing dishes from Wano for whenever it is Luff makes good on his threat to temporarily kidnap the consul’s son again.”

“Say the word ‘borrow’; it’s less incriminating,” Usopp shouted from the living room, not even taking his eyes off the game once.

“It’s just MSG,” Law shrugged.

“Yeah, but the good shit,” Sanji emphasized. He helped Law and Bepo unpack the rest of the bags and put everything away—odds and ends that weren’t of much consequence, but would be dangerous if missing later. “Nami-swan’s with Robin-chan picking Chopper up from school, by the way. They won’t be in until after lunch.”

That made Law’s eyebrows raise. “Sakura U is in Drum County. Four hours just driving round-trip.”

“Yeah, I know; I helped move the kid in freshman year.”

“Nami never volunteers to go get Chopper… unless…”

“Sounds like her mom’s getting some speecy-spicy dating action this week and she doesn’t want to hear about it,” Franky laughed. “I give the woman credit; she’s super feisty.”

“My dad just started dating again too—I get it,” Law said. “There are just some things you don’t want to hear… or learn… or think about…”

“If my old geezer started dating again, I’d die,” Sanji admitted with a shudder.

“Saaaame,” Usopp chimed in. The race ended and the teen groaned. “Brook! You are literally older than video games themselves! How did you beat me?!”

“I guess I’m a gamer down to my bones… which is all of me!” Brook cackled. “Law’s friend! Would you like to join us for the next round?”

“Uh… sure…” Bepo said warily. He sat down next to Usopp and accepted the fourth controller. “Are there any bear characters?”

As Usopp explained the game mechanics to Bepo, Law took his backpack up to Nami’s room and began to set himself up for later that night. He took care of the shit like condoms and lube because he wasn’t a goddamned barbarian and didn’t want his girlfriend to get worried if in the chaos of everything she forgot her medication for a couple days. It was just part of being a responsible adult and not some skeezebag looking to fuck how he wanted and whom he wanted without thinking about repercussions. The thought of a physical consequence crossed his mind as he shut the nightstand drawer and shuddered—Cora-san as a grandfather of all things would be something he’d need more than a few months to brace for.

“Law, there you are, holy shit.” He looked over his shoulder to see Penguin and Shachi both standing there, looking precisely the amount of moist that would be appropriate if they had been dragged into the pool against their will. Not only that, but they appeared to be absolutely flabbergasted by the entire situation they found themselves in. “That’s the second-in-command of the Revolutionary Army in the pool… the national-level political party, not state-level!”

“I know, Penguin.”

“…and the other’s one of the lieutenants of the Moby City mayor!”

“I know, Shachi.”

“…and apparently the host of Impel Drag Race is ‘popping by’ later?!”

“…and the straw-hat kid’s referring to the former state lieutenant governor as his grunkle?!”

“…and the one in the kitchen you had us go to six specialty import stores for is sous chef and heir to the Baratie?!”

“…and apparently your girlfriend is currently on a fetch quest to haul over here one of the few who can out-prodigy you when it comes to medicine?!”

“…a kid, may I remind you, whose grandparents are part of the reason why we even have world-class medicine in Greater Logue Town, let alone the state?!”

“…and Bepo’s getting his ass handed to him in video games by the Soul King himself…?!”

“I get it: we stick out the least despite the fact you two hold multiple state-level swimming records each, I’m the youngest surgeon in all departments at Logue Town General by at least a decade, and Bepo’s a bear,” Law reminded them casually. “To consider this as anything close to a normal party house is sort of a disgrace to the very concept of a party house.”

“This place is batshit,” Penguin stated. “It also might break physics because it feels like it’s bigger on the inside.”

“That’s your crisis to work through, not mine,” Law said. He reached into the nightstand drawer and pulled out two single wrapped condoms, throwing them at his friends. “Be careful; if Hancock-ya shows up tonight, she’s going to bring the whole team, and I know how strong of a will you two have in front of a pretty face and thick thighs.”

“Wait, what…?” Shachi gaped. Law shrugged.

“The captain of the Amazon Lily roller derby team out of Kuja has a weird crush on Strawhat-ya that he doesn’t quite recognize and when she’s here, the entire team is here.”

“Law, have we ever expressed how much we truly appreciate your friendship?” Penguin said, his and Shachi’s demeanor clearly changed. They were in such awe that tears were beginning to well in their eyes. “This could honestly be the best night of our lives!”

“Step-on-me-pussy is literally the best pussy,” Shachi added with a sniffle. “We are in your debt.”

“Remember that next time I need changed dressings, blood draws, and vitals from everyone in the unit half an hour before shift change,” Law warned. His friends didn’t hear him—they were too busy imagining the possibilities for later on.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“What does it say about everything that you still don’t strike me as an adopt-into-single-fatherhood sort of man?” Bell-mère asked. She was at Cora’s for the evening, glad that the mysterious kid of his was gone with friends for the weekend. Picking up a picture frame from an end table, she looked at the image of her former comrade-in-arms hugging a sullen tween with Reverse Mountain National Park in the background. “Cute kid though.”

“Yeah, that’s from not long after I became his official guardian,” Cora said from the kitchen. “He was sick when I got him—didn’t think he’d make it past thirteen.”

“No shit. Now you said he’s in his twenties?”

“Yeah—went into medicine; his birth family was full of doctors and I think he wants to honor them that way. Works at Logue Town General and everything.”

“Who knows? He might know my youngest daughter’s beau.” Bell-mère went into the kitchen and sat at the table, watching Cora cook on the electric range—the only reason he wasn’t spontaneously bursting into flame while cooking their dinner. “She’s fucking some doctor who’s got to be closer to our age than hers if the intel we get from her friends is anything.”

“Possibly, though there’s a lot of doctors in LTG.”

“True.” She watched as he splashed some sauce on himself accidentally. “Sure you don’t need help?”

“I’m sure,” he winced. “So, what about you? Still never gave me an answer about the girls.”

“Something just clicked in my brain, you know?” she shrugged, taking it upon herself to pour the wine instead. “I’m sure you had a moment like that with your son.”

“Yeah, but Bell-mère the Beast? Adopting two little orphans while out on deployment?”

“You blew your cover on a covert job when you left, and the only reason you’re not dead is because it involved infiltrating your brother’s criminal empire and you both are worth more to him alive and unperturbed.”

“Technicalities,” Cora scoffed. He brought two plates of food to the table and sat down. “Things are still a little frosty between Sengoku and me for it, but I’d do it all over again and I’m sure you feel the same.”

“Beyond a doubt.” She ate some of the rice on her plate and chuckled. “At least fatherhood made you a decent home cook.”

“I’ll show you what else I’m still decent at after dessert,” he teased. She snorted in laughter—of course he would, because of course he was.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was late that night as Law and Nami both laid in bed, curled up together with their naked bodies flush against one another. The house was finally quiet and they could both just relax—a rare treat for the place they were currently occupying.

“Hey… Nami…?” He could feel her smile against his chest at the dropped honorific; something he did only when they were alone.

“Yeah…?”

“Is this… what you want…?”

She sat up and stared at him, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow in a curious arch. “What do you mean by that?”

“Having the extent of our relationship being sneaking off to fuck in the middle of a house party?” He tried to shrug aloofly, but was too taken in by the sight of her in the moonlight to do more than twitch. “Would you like to be… I dunno… more involved…?”

“Depends on your definition,” she replied. She hugged her knees as she looked at him, the very sexy and very naked man in her bed bringing a tattooed arm up in order to rub circles on her back.

“Seeing one another without any of our friends needing to be there,” he mused. “Showing up at one another’s workplaces as a surprise, meeting my dad… your mom and sister…” He exhaled heavily, avoiding eye contact by staring at her shoulder tattoo. “I’m not saying commitment, but…”

“I get it; you want to know what’s on the table, if you need to keep future options in mind.”

“I guess.” He paused, trying to find the words. “I don’t mind if we’re a temporary thing…”

“You can say ‘fling’. I won’t be insulted.”

“Okay, fine: I don’t care if this is a fling and we drift apart or we’re actually friends with damn good benefits or I’m just what you’re into for now and you drop me like a rock next month. I mean… I’m getting sex out of it… sex with you…”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she reminded him, patting the bit of blanket covering his dick. “This is working for more than just you, trust me.”

“What I’m saying is…” he swallowed hard, “if you’d like, I’m willing to start exploring what a life together might be like.”

“See if we like what’s being laid down?”

“Pretty much. We’d need to meet each other’s parents first—hiding you from my dad any longer than I have to will be torture.”

“Well, I’ve never tried the meet-the-parents routine with anyone except for friends, so if you want to try, I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

A small smile twisted the corner of his mouth upwards. “Yeah…?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Law exhaled, only then he realized he had been holding his breath. “Okay. We can do this…? We can do this. I mean, we’re adults.”

“We are.” She then laid back down, settling herself between his arm and his chest. “Let’s talk about it more after some sleep. Then I’ll tell my mom when I get home.”

“…and I’ll tell Cora-san.”

“Wait…” she giggled incredulously. “Your dad’s name is Cora?”

“It’s an old nickname,” he grumbled, “but it is what he prefers to be called. I’ll break that down for you later as well.”

“No, it’s just funny because that’s the name of the woman my mom’s dating. Sorting through the Two Cora Situation is going to be a group bonding exercise in of itself.”

“I guess so.” He closed his eyes as he felt Nami bring the blankets around them again, taking in the wonderful silence of the night.

Well, it was silent for people without really good hearing, as he could have sworn he heard Shachi sob through an orgasm in another room. Only his friends could ruin a moment and not even be there.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The following morning went the average amount of well an after-party morning could go. Most of the house denizens were some version of worn-out thanks to either staying up late, copious amounts of alcohol, or both. The pair of Kuja that stayed the night with Penguin and Shachi both left early—Law had still been on his first cup of coffee when they did—dragging along the smitten Hancock with them. The surgeon watched as his friends found their way into the back by the pool, plopping down at the little table next to him as he scrolled through news headlines on his phone.

“You’ve been holding out,” Penguin scolded.

“Yeah,” Shachi said, expression to be too relaxed to be anything but blissful. “We got them on social and everything. What took you so long to bring us here?”

Law shrugged through his coffee, which his friends refused to accept for an answer. They both glared at him, waiting for whole minutes until he cracked.

“I wanted to make sure of it… you know.” He contemplated his next sentence, thought better of it, and went through with it anyhow. “I’m having her meet Cora-san.”

“Oh, fuck,” Shachi cringed. “That’s… that’s a hell of a step for you.”

“The number of people that have both met your dad and seen your dick is extremely small, and the list even exists in the first place purely due to changing rooms and nothing sexual,” Penguin noted.

“Yeah, you think I don’t realize that?” Law fired back. “Nami-ya and me, Cora-san and his… lady-friend I’m surprised actually exists, and Nami-ya’s mom with her lady-friend—just going to tear the bandage off and get us all together.”

Shachi let out a low whistle. “Oooh… you got it bad.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Law grunted. “I’m putting up with Strawhat-ya to be with her, so might as well.”

It was then that Luffy, almost if on-cue, ran out of the house and did a cannonball into the pool, splashing water all over Law, but not Penguin and Shachi. The latter two tried to hide their giggles as a now-familiar shishishi echoed through the yard.

Yeah, he had it bad alright.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, it didn’t take long for Law to get a hold of everyone’s schedules. After looking at the family calendar and swiping her mother’s phone while she was in the shower, Nami was able to confirm that three weeks from that Tuesday worked well. He felt a sense of triumph as they coordinated the event, all the way down to the thumbs-up emojis that were sent his way when she asked her mom to join them.

Now, for the big one. It was luckily Law’s turn to make dinner that Monday, which meant that he was able to have everything ready by the time Cora-san came home from work. The older man raised an eyebrow when he saw his son in the kitchen with food nearly ready.

“Anything the matter?” he asked.

“Nothing’s wrong; just sit.” Cora did and Law brought over two plates of carbonara. “I just want a nice dinner for once.”

“Not complaining,” Cora nodded. He twirled some pasta on his fork and took a large bite, proceeding to talk with his mouth full. “So… you gonna tell me what this is about…?”

Fuck, busted.

“Okay, I’m going to need you to listen to me and not get too excited,” Law frowned. Cora perked up, his attention piqued. “Since we’re both dating someone…”

“…yeah…?”

“I thought it would be nice if we took a very non-committal step to clear the air and all meet one another.” Sparkles formed in the older man’s eyes and Law almost instantly regretted it. “She’s inviting her mom and mom’s girlfriend, while I’m supposed to invite you and… whatever it is that you consider a hot date. You know… be adults.”

“A triple date! How social of you! This young lady of yours must be doing wonders for your tolerance levels!” A thought then came to Cora and he instantly grew serious. “The crew isn’t jealous, are they?”

“Shachi and Penguin were both ‘stepped on’ by tri-state roller derby champions over the weekend and Bepo has decided that he’s determined to mentor this kid who we hang around now so he also doesn’t get the life sucked out of him by being a teenager in med school.”

“Then they approve! Excellent! Let the appropriate parties know and we can set up a day and time! Oh, this will be fun!”

“I was thinking three weeks from tomorrow, at a place near the hospital so it can be for lunch. We double-checked your schedules.”

“Not a dinner-date here…?”

“No, because I want to keep your shenanigans to a minimum, and that’s usually achievable when you’re trapped in a booth seat.”

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he admitted. “I’ll pass the word along tonight.”

“Thanks—let me know if anything comes up.”

“Oh, not a problem.” Cora couldn’t stop his wide smile as he looked at his son across the table. “You’ve come a long way, you know.”

“Yeah,” he blushed, “I know.”

“They’d be proud.”

“I know.”

“Now: does this mean I’m getting grandkids?”

It honestly took all Law had to not fling pasta in Cora’s face.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Later that night, Cora found himself having his final smoke of the evening before turning in for bed. Law was already asleep—kid’s circadian rhythm had always been fucked—and that meant that Cora was able to take his cigarette on the patio in peace without hearing his boy nag him about emphysema and other such things. He was nearly done when his phone buzzed: The Beast.

“Hey,” he answered, applying a suave tone to his voice.

“You said you wanted to talk about something?” Bell-mère asked. The text was actually a request to call when she was free, but he wasn’t complaining. “Is this about phone sex? Because I am actually in the mood for some phone sex…”

“We can do that later—there is something I want to get out of the way first.”

“Who’s dying?”

“No one,” Cora said cheerily. He stubbed out the cigarette and made his way back into the house. “It’s just my boy’s decided to coordinate something between us, so we can meet his girlfriend and her mom and mom’s girlfriend!”

“A triple date? With mostly people he doesn’t know? Kind of a lot for a kid that only tolerates hanging out with three people aside from his girlfriend.”

“Well, rumor has it that he met her at a party, and he tolerates her friends, so who knows?” Cora was beaming brightly as he looked at himself in the mirror next to the door—this was the sort of thing that was a rite of passage, wasn’t it? Meeting your kid’s significant other? Her mom? Oh, it was exciting! Was this a sign something more was on the horizon?! “He was thinking of going and doing something low-key: lunch at this restaurant that’s near the hospital.”

The line went quiet for a moment. “…Don Silver?”

“Yeah! I guess he and his friends go there during and after shifts a lot. It’s the kind of place that doesn’t need a reservation, but he’s asking them to set aside a table for us anyhow since he’s such a good regular.” Cora then paused, expression falling “How did you know?”

“My daughter wants us to meet her old-man-doctor-boyfriend, his dad, and dad’s girlfriend for lunch there. Tuesday at one?”

“…oh.”

Both Cora and Bell-mère were silent—no… it couldn’t be…

“Belle…?”

“Yeah…?”

“Did she tell you what the reservation was under…?”

“Her old-man-doctor-boyfriend’s name, but it’s not Donquixote…”

“I never gave him my family name, Belle. The adoption papers went through too slow for it to take effect before he started med school, even if he wanted to change it.”

“It’s a weird name, hold on, she wrote it down for me…” He heard a rustling of paper and then her grunting as she attempted to figure out how to pronounce it. “Tra… Tra-faye-el-gar?”

“Trafalgar; my son’s family name is Trafalgar.”

“Huh.” Cora began to chew at his fingernails and pace the kitchen as his mind began to race and the woman on the other end contemplated. He then began to pace and tug at his hair.

“Belle…?”

Nothing.

“Belle, answer me.”

Silence.

“Belle…?!”

“So,” she chuckled, “wanna fuck with ‘em?”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Don Silver was a well-patronized family restaurant within walking distance of Logue Town General, which made it the perfect location for Law to slip out to during his shift, but also to slip back in should an emergency arise. He left Bepo in charge of his patients until he came back, promising to stay late if he was out so long it threw everything off. When he walked into the restaurant, the owner simply gestured to the usual back booth he normally haunted with his friends, seeing that Nami was already there.

“Ah, there you are,” she chuckled, exchanging a quick peck as he sat down next to her. “Everything seems like it’s going as planned. Nojiko was a little irritated that she wasn’t invited, but she’ll get her chance.”

“Yeah, she will,” he agreed. Law felt as though his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“I know… kind of exciting, isn’t it?” She leaned in close and pressed a kiss to the back of his jaw, smiling as she saw how confused the owner was at the scene. “I should have you know that you might not be on the list of favorites after this.”

“Your mom that big of a menace?”

“More like Gin over there and Sanji have had beef since culinary school,” she chuckled. Law caught that the owner was staring at them and he shrugged—how could he have known? “Oh, hey, there’s Bell-mère!”

“…and that’s Cora-san,” Law noted. He watched has his foster father held open the door for Nami’s mother. “Wait a second… where’s their dates…?”

“That is… huh…” Nami trailed off as Cora and Bell-mère made their way to the table. Both parents decided to slide directly into the booth seating, with the leggy, clumsy one on the inside. “Do we need to wait for the others, or…?”

“There’s no others; what are you talking about?” Bell-mère scoffed. A waiter came over to deposit some glasses of water—a handled mug for Cora, as they were warned beforehand—and battered menus, leaving the four to their own devices for the time being. “It’s just us and our manfriends, although I’m honestly impressed you went as old as you did considering mine’s just a year younger than me…”

“Nojiko and I have been under the impression you’ve been seeing a woman named Cora…”

“Short for Corazón,” Bell-mère shrugged. “That was your codename out in the field, right hon?”

“It was, wasn’t it, Law?” Cora smirked. He tried very hard to not notice the deep sense of confusion his son was radiating. “You’ve been here a lot; what’s good?”

After some awkward deliberation, the waiter came back and took their orders and the menus while depositing a breadbasket. A silence settled over the table once the waiter left, one that made the younger couple hold hands underneath the table for strength, while the older couple decided to put their plan into action.

Operation Fuck with the Brats was a-go.

“We want to thank both of you for meeting us like this,” Cora said seriously, deciding to be the one to break the ice. He nearly couldn’t stop himself from bursting into laughter as he watched panic settle in on his son’s face. “It’s not exactly the sort of thing we want to talk about when I’m liable to trip while wandering around the house.”

“What…?” Nami wondered, cocking her eyebrow.

“Man’s a complete klutz,” Bell-mère said before Law could explain. “Let’s just hope it’s not inheritable.”

All the color left Nami and Law’s faces at once.

“What… erm… do you mean by that…?” the younger woman asked. Bell-mère shrugged.

“Eh, just putting shit down in the right places,” she replied. “Should’ve done it years ago, but never had the reason, until now…”

“Cora-san…? What is she talking about…?” Law asked, his voice faint. His foster father grinned widely.

“We wanted you two to be our Best Man and Maid of Honor!” he beamed. “You’d be perfect for the job! It doesn’t even get into being Emergency Guardians…”

“Oh I’m going to be sick,” Nami grimaced.

“Don’t you dare, you little shit,” Bell-mère warned. “I would think it’d be an honor. You did always want to be an older sister growing up.”

“…and we’re already on the older side for a baby, so having their older siblings be the ones to take care of them in case we can’t is perfect!”

Law sank into the booth, completely dumbstruck. Cora-san…?! And Nami’s mom…?! He was almost regretting not making this meeting at the Southern Blue pub down the street—at least they had a liquor license. “Does Doflamingo know about this…?”

“My brother wouldn’t know what to do with a kid if he had one walk in his front door,” Cora scoffed. “I know because I watched it happen. Multiple times.” The mortification on the younger couple’s faces was definitely worth the ruse; the kids seemed to be inventing new stages of grief. “Speaking of front doors—Bell-mère’s moving in since there’s more room, so you have the choice of staying in your current room or out elsewhere.”

“Nami, you and Nojiko get to fight it out over what to do with where we’re at now,” Bell-mère added. “Just don’t rent it out to any of your weirdo friends—I’d like the place to stay intact, thank you.”

“You have to be fucking with us,” Nami decided. She dug into her purse and whipped out her phone. “I’m calling Nojiko.”

“Go ahead, be that way,” Bell-mère said. She watched as Nami hit the button to dial her sister and held the phone up to her ear.

“So…? How’s it going…?” Ah, fuck, she sounded too smug.

“Nojiko, did you know anything about this?”

“…about what…?”

“…about why the hell our mom decided to meet my boyfriend so easily…”

“Ooohhhh, that,” Nojiko replied, a grin on her voice. “Yeah, she should have told us that her kinky reconnect was a dude before she got herself all prego. She offered me Maid of Honor first, but I said you can have it since you’d actually want to sleep with the geriatric Best Man…”

“I fucking hate you all,” Nami said before ending the call. She put her phone screen-down on the table and glared at her mother. “You are absolutely mortifying.”

“I am what I am,” Bell-mère shrugged. She then wrinkled her nose and looked at Cora with a frown. “Oh… the kid’s gonna be a Donquixote, isn’t it…?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

“Then how do you suggest we tell your brother? Ease him in gently or just let him discover on his own?”

“I honestly don’t know which would be worse.”

“Your brother—that’s up to you. Oh! Food’s here!”

Sure enough Bell-mère did notice their food coming out the kitchen as the waiter dropped off the plates cheerily. Both Law and Nami really didn’t feel like eating anymore, while their parents both began to pick at their fries…

…and laughed.

“Ah, fuck, we really had you going!” Bell-mère snorted.

“Your faces are priceless,” Cora added.

“So… you’re not having a baby…” Nami stated.

“…and you’re not getting married,” Law continued.

“Tch; don’t think I’m ready to settle down quite yet,” Bell-mère scoffed. “Besides, this klutzy nightmare? Fuck baby-proofing—I’d have to Rosi-proof.”

“Then you’re not seeing one another…?” Law knew it was dangerous to be hopeful. He was anyhow, only for his hopes to be dashed against the floor unceremoniously like a slippery water glass.

“Sorry to burst that bubble, kids, but I am one-hundred-percent fucking this goober despite all logic and reasoning telling me that I probably shouldn’t,” Bell-mère shrugged. “Didn’t think I’d be with a man again after we last hooked up in the Marines, but I have to admit he’s improved with age.”

“Belle…” Cora giggled, blushing furiously. “That’s still my son and his cute girlfriend…”

“…and that’s my daughter and her geriatric manfriend,” she replied. “They’re adults; I think they can handle it.”

To be honest? Neither Law nor Nami wanted anything to do with anything at that very moment.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It was actually a fucking gorgeous day as Law laid face-down on the grass in the backyard at 1000 Sunny Drive. He hadn’t thought it was particularly appropriate to show his face at Luffy’s sus-as-fuck party house in the middle of buttfuck-nowhere after what had happened earlier in the week, but Bepo and the goons insisted. While the bear chatted amiably with Chopper and Kaya (how the fuck did Usopp of all the kids got himself a girlfriend? That he wasn’t having sex with yet? No one really knew), Penguin and Shachi were biding their time before the Amazons Lilys showed up (and let’s be real: the nursing techs knew they were the lay-conquest), while Law… he was just trying to not die of embarrassment.

“So…” a voice said, almost consolingly. “You fucked your sister.”

“She is not my sister, Roronoa-ya,” Law replied. He didn’t need to look to see the kendo genius standing there, nor that it was the chef who nudged him in the side with his foot.

“Well, your parents fucked before you did, so that makes you siblings.”

“That does not make them siblings, mossbrain,” Sanji scoffed. “Come on, Law. What do you think you’re going to achieve by doing all this sulking?”

“I’m touching grass; go away.”

“I don’t think that’s what they mean, but keep telling yourself that. Besides, you know the marimo never learned about sex-ed, birds or bees. I bet his old man would have reproduced via budding if he could and skipped the adoption paperwork.”

“Yours probably wishes he could bake himself a less pervy son.”

“Fuck off, you overgrown grass stain,” Sanji hissed.

“You realize none of this is helping, right?” Law said into the lawn.

“Eh; worth a shot.” Law heard Sanji flick open his lighter and the familiar smell of cigarettes hit his nose—the man smoked the same brand as Cora.

“Get away from him, you vultures,” scolded a very familiar voice. Zoro chuckled lowly as Sanji pulled him away. Once the clowns had dispersed, Nami sat down on the grass and sighed, hugging her knees.

“I blame Bell-mère for getting Nojiko in on it,” she reminded him. “She’s the reason any of these morons know anything… well, that and Sanji not having Gin blocked on social.”

“I know—it doesn’t make it any less embarrassing.”

“True, but it does mean that we’re probably going to spend holidays together at the very least, whether we’re fucking or not.” She reached over and began scratching his scalp, eliciting a heavy whine. “Look at it this way: they could have not been joking.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t still happen,” he replied. “Pregnancy can occur all the way until post-menopause, and many are accidental.”

“Shhhh…” she soothed, smoothing his hair. “Don’t think about it.”

All he could do was squeak out a pained groan—he was a doctor… all he could do was think about it.

[majorproblems77]

Fanfic Master post!

Hey! Thanks for your interest in my Fanfics. It means the world to me.

I've written a variety of fanfics, One-shots, short multi-chapter stories and a few larger series.

I post all of my Fanfics on AO3, under the username major_de_speed which can be found

Here

This post is gonna be a long one so fair warning. Feel free to browse to your heart's content! Please do let me know how you feel about everything you look into, it does mean the world to me.

Stories below!

Kept under the line for your feed's sake

You clicked it? Thanks! :)

Have a cookie!

One last thing...

Here for my Whumptober 2023 fics? I've got a master post for that, here you are!

Whumptober 2023 master post

One shot fanfics

Thunderous consequences

This was my first work and was inspired by @/kikker_oma's artwork Thunder - Found here. It was super fun to write for it.

Summary

When Sky and Hyrule get ambushed on patrol, a bad decision has Thunderous consequences.

Homesick

A shorter piece based in Wind's Hyrule about Sky feeling homesick.

Summary

Sky's been a little out of sorts lately. He's distracted, unfocused. Arriving at Wind's humble home he finds he needs some space. It's no one's fault of course he just misses home.

He misses her.

No sword, no magic rod, no problem

This one was written for the LU WTIYS put together by @/breannasfluff, It's a Legend-centric story where he is tasked with collecting some materials for Purah.

Summary

Part of the LU WTIYS!

Legend was tasked with getting some flint and Luminous stone. Not a difficult task for a seasoned adventurer like him. So let's make it fun, a challenge if you will. No swords, no magic rods, no bow. Only the power of punch.

Don't tell Hyrule?

Five days, Five months, Five minutes, Five years

A four part story on my take on the Wild leaves the chain for TOTK. This obviously comes with TOTK spoilers.

Summary

Five days since Wild heard the call Five months since he left them Five minutes since entering the portal to Wilds Hyrule Five years without them

Exploring the different lengths of time between Wild leaving the chain for Tears of the kingdom, and him returning much later. For him at least.

Midnight ride

A short fic I wrote cause I was desperate for Sky fluff. Very fluffy Sky and Crimson fluff.

Summary

It was midnight, on the anniversary of his defeat of demise. The chain were in his Hyrule, much to Zelda's delight.

Taking notice

This is an ongoing story I am writing with @/uniquevoidflowers it's a Legend and Sky-Centric story that we are writing as a pair.

Summary

Legend's trauma comes to haunt him one night, resulting in Legend's behaviour to change drastically. Sky notices this, and tries to get the veteran to open up, so he can comfort Legend. Will Sky succeed?

Eyeliner

This one is a short story I wrote for @/Ikashire, it was a surprise for them as I have and continue to have brain rot about they're modern au. It's inspired by some art they did, which you can find here.

Summary

Legend helps Sky get ready for a photoshoot.

Channeling starlight

This one I wrote as my contribution to the @/Ikashire DTIYS, there's been some amazing stuff come out of it and I was super happy to join in!

Summary

 “Hey, Legend, now we’ve got wild alone.” Hyrule looked to Wild, who had stopped his movements looking at him with a quizzical look on his face. “Do you think we can start looking at that spell?”

“Yeah, we should.”

“What would we need?”

Tumblr suggestion box!

Here is the place I put all those suggestions I've written from the lovely people from here! either short drabbles, requests and the like!

One of the many reasons Sky hates dungeons

This one was suggested by @/unexpectedstormy and is a short story based around Sky meeting Redeads for the first time.

Unravelling series

A series of stories written about Sky's struggles with his mind. The guilt of not only the curse but the sword and other's opinions of it.

TW for depression, attempted suicide, suicide and dissociation in a big way. Please do take care if you're going to read this one.

Gift of Silence

After a bad confrontation with Time and Twilight, Sky goes off alone Unarmed and stuck in his own head he makes a decision, and someone needs to stop him.

TW for attempted suicide and depression

Inspired by @/Kikker_oma's art piece Sunshine - Found here.

Summary

Words said hurt, But sometimes... They hit in just the wrong way. Sometimes all they want is the Gift of Silence.

Struggles in the aftermath

The next piece to this series, written from Wind's perspective, This covers Wind's reaction to what he's seen. And the support that he gets from his older brothers.

TW for attempted suicide and depression - spoken about

Summary

Sky had made it back to camp alive. But Wind. Wind had seen it. Sometimes there are struggles in the aftermath, for those who witness it.

Unravelling

Currently my main ongoing project, after the events of struggles in the aftermath the chain gets separated into an unknown Hyrule. With Sky's mind unravelling he needs help.

TW for suicide, depression and dissociation.

Summary

A slight tug is all it takes to unwind a ball of wool, The same can be said for people. A slight tug, a bad word, an action. With Sky's life on the line, they have to stop that ball from unwinding any further.

Hopefully, it's not too late.

[neocitybooty]

I Choose You. [M]

Genre: Smut, Office AU, Multiple Partners, Fluff, Angst, M/F

Pairing: Jaehyun x Johnny x Original Character

Word Count: 2.6k 

Warnings: Oral sex, Sub/Dom dynamics, bodily fluids, masturbation, vulgar language, choking, rough sex, multiple partners, unprotected sex

Summary: Carmella requested a transfer within her company and moved to the other side of the world. She soon realizes she bit off more than she can chew once she starts working at the home branch...

A/N: Okay, I was def supposed to post this like last week ;__ ; But it's okay, it is here now! I’ve been really sick these last few days and I am happy to be doing better. I’m pretty sure it was the flu. Took me out for FIVE days. Oh my LORD. Also, has anyone watched Dear M? I watched it and I have a lot to say but I'll keep it to myself cuz I don’t want to put out any spoilers just yet. I also think y’all need some more time hehehe. But anywho, please enjoy this first chapter! I appreciate you all for reading and I hope you enjoy the roller coaster that is this story. Swear to God, you will hate someone by the time we finish. Hopefully it’s not me ;_____ ; 

Chapter 1

Come into my office in about thirty minutes. Alone. And get rid of that underwear.

Mela stared at her screen. Her boss was absolutely insane. A pain in her side. Her ass. Every part of her body.

Your request isn’t appropriate.

They never were.

I don’t recall asking if it was.

Mela’s heart momentarily stopped as her brain scattered to formulate some type of excuse. In the end, she had nothing. And she knew he wouldn’t ask again.

My apologies. Sure thing.

“Mela, please prepare the spreadsheets for the end of day meeting.” Ju-Ri said, not even looking at Mela but continuing to walk through the food court to get to the lobby. Her heels clacking as she hurried off.

Mela slightly dipped her head to bow and then she shut her MacBook. The work culture at this job was going to be the end of her. She couldn’t even get through a thirty-minute lunch break (that was very late) without being summoned and/or assigned a new task. And she already worked well over eight hours every day. It was becoming exhausting.

A whistle hit Mela’s ears and she turned around, in search of the source.

Jeong Jaehyun.

“What a pleasant surprise.” His smooth and deep voice nearly put Mela into a trance. “I was wondering why you weren’t in your office. You’re not trying to keep your distance from me, are you?” Jaehyun was slowly approaching Mela’s table as the nearby employees scrambled to grab their belongings and scurry away.

“No, I am taking a lunch break. If I can even call it that.” Mela scoffed.

“You’re taking your lunch break and I didn’t even get a lunch today. Oh, you’re quite the secretary.” Jaehyun laughed as he pulled up a chair and sat too close to Mela for her liking.

“Your lunch is catered to you every day, you’re being unreasonable.” Mela started packing up her lunch. She now had fifteen minutes to prepare spreadsheets for the biggest meeting of the day and then she was to rush to meet with, once again, the manchild that is her boss.

Jaehyun put a hand on her arm to stop her. “I’m not being unreasonable. I’m being serious.” He tugged at Mela’s arm, signaling her to face him. “I’m hungry and I want what you’re eating. Feed me with your spoon.”

Ain’t no way. Mela thought to herself. Jaehyun was the most interesting character she had ever met in her entire life. This wasn’t meant to be a compliment, by any means.

Jeong Jaehyun was twenty-six years old and the only son of the CEO of one of the biggest communications companies in the country. Being the only child, he was next in line to take over, once his father retired. He graduated at the top of his class from both high school and college campuses, spoke multiple languages, and was a highly skilled pianist. There was no record of him ever dating anyone and he kept his private life out of the limelight. To the untrained eye, he was the most eligible bachelor of their generation. But to Mela, the unlucky secretary that was assigned to him, Jaehyun was the worst thing to ever happen since One Direction’s disbandment.  

Jaehyun was attractive, confident, and spoiled. The worst combination. Mela replayed their first meeting at least once a day.

7 months ago

“Miss Jones, you will be working with Mr. Jeong. You are to report directly to him and accompany him on all business trips.” The older woman said to Mela on her first day. At least that is what Mela believed she said. She skipped out on one too many Hangul classes and in result she had a difficult time understanding and reading numerous verbs and more. But it wasn’t a cause for concern. She was to continue studying while in the company and Jaehyun was fluent in English after spending four years in America. There were also other employees, like Ju-Ri for example, who spoke English as well.

Jaehyun looked at Mela, scanning her from head to toe. His eyes showed an extraordinarily high level of interest and the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, forming a soft smirk.

“Carmella Cindy Mae Jones.” Jaehyun said in a low voice, once he was left alone in his office with his newly hired secretary.

Who also happened to be the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. Lucky him.

She was breathtaking. She had big, brown eyes and dark, long curly eye lashes. Her long, black, hair was very thick and full, resembling black wool. Her skin was smooth and porcelain-like except the color was closer to a dark copper. Jaehyun didn’t know how to properly describe her. She was truly a type of beauty that needed to be seen in order to be understood. He was certain that if she stood in the sun, she would glow. A dimple formed on her right cheek as she smiled and it drew attention to the small mole on the top of her lip.

Jaehyun couldn’t help but notice all of the details that made her. She was his for the taking, after all.

“Yes, but you can call me Mela.” Mela’s voice sounded like heaven to Jaehyun’s ears.  

He walked towards Mela, closing in on the space between them and leaned over so that he was next to her ear.

Mela felt her body freeze as she inhaled his cologne. It smelled expensive and made her heat up in her sensitive area.

“I’m hoping you will enjoy this as much as I will.” He said before standing straight again and walking over to his desk.

Mela stood speechless.

“Oh, you can take the rest of the day off. I’ll be seeing you bright and early tomorrow morning. Use this free time to make sure your wardrobe is to my liking, will you? See Ju-Ri for your personal black card on your way out and make sure to check your email. The handbook was sent there.” He then sat and immediately started typing.

“Uh ok, bye!” Mela awkwardly bowed and exited Jaehyun’s office.

Jaehyun chuckled after the door shut.

She was so cute.

Present day

“Sorry I’m a bit late. I had to do some last minute revising. It was-“

“You always have an excuse for everything.” Jaehyun cut her off as he waved his hand away to dismiss her statement.

His suit jacket was off and his shirt was unbuttoned to mid chest, with his sleeves rolled up. His tie was loosened and would probably come off soon. Finally, he held a glass of whiskey in his hand, indication that his day had been hard.

“Tell me Mela, has it ever occurred to you that maybe I care more about you showing up and not so much about the timing?”  He set down his drink and sat on the edge of his desk.

“With all due respect, if I decided to not finish my task, you’d only penalize me for it later.”

Mela’s first few months were complete hell. There were many days in which she regretted asking for the transfer from New York to Seoul. She was surprised they even accepted her. She was a high performer at her former location but that was to their standard. Now she was essentially a rookie at headquarters. She caused a stir when she miswrote a staff memo and confused the word “fuck” with a number during a morning announcement over the intercom, she double booked Jaehyun for numerous events and meetings, and was constantly missing deadlines.

Jaehyun had a soft spot for his dearest secretary, but he knew that his father wouldn’t allow her to stay in the company if he didn’t whip her into shape sooner rather than later.

His idea of fixing the problem was longer hours with him and his strict training methods were not for the weak. Although, she hadn’t had any hiccups for a very long time, the idea of getting in trouble with Jaehyun was enough to awaken Mela’s anxiety.

“I just wanted to spend some time alone with you.” Jaehyun ignored Mela’s remark. He set his glass down on his desk and walked towards Mela with his arms open. “It’s just that it’s been so long. May I hold you?”

Now he was standing in front of Mela, towering over her as he looked down and directly into her eyes.

Mela nodded and felt Jaehyun’s arms snake around her waist.

“That’s all you can do.” She adds in.

“Hmm?” Jaehyun pulled his head away from the top of Mela’s head. He then started to massage her ass, very slowly, pulling up her skirt in the process. “But, I’m afraid I want more.”

“Jaehyun, please we can’t.” Mela started to protest.

“We can do whatever we please.” Jaehyun then lifted Mela’s chin and kissed her long and slowly, inserting his tongue almost immediately.

Mela moaned into Jaehyun’s mouth as he pulled her into a tighter embrace.

Goodness, I’m losing. Mela thought to herself. Jaehyun let go of Mela, but kept his mouth attached to her own, and started to unbuckle his belt.

                                                       *

About four months prior, Mela did the one thing she swore she would never do.

She slept with her boss.

Not only once, but numerous times.

They were consistent for weeks until everything suddenly started going downhill. They started fighting. They couldn’t find common ground for many issues and a lot of women from his past just kept popping up, out of the blue. They never made their relationship official, but Mela was bothered by the thought of Jaehyun still involving himself romantically with other women. In the end, they cut things off and the ending was hard on both of them.

Mela and Jaehyun’s intimate relationship began on a week-long trip to Italy. Jaehyun was to attend a conference and Mela, per her job description, was required to accompany him.

Jaehyun had no intention of doing what he did, but he let his jealousy get the best of him when they were walking to the opening banquet and an Italian man looked at Mela and said “Bellissima!” He then proceeded to give her a rose. Mela giggled shyly and accepted without a second thought.

This angered Jaehyun and he made sure that she knew.

Before entering the banquet, he stopped Mela.

“Throw the rose away.” He said sternly.

Mela looked at him and frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t like repeating myself. Why do you think it’s okay to accept things from other men? Are you trying to make me angry?” Jaehyun blocked the doorway.

“Maybe I am.” Mela said, holding on to the rose. “Besides, It’s not like you’ve ever gotten me any flowers.”

Jaehyun was taken aback by Mela’s sassy tone. She wanted flowers? He refrained from giving Mela gifts and special treatment in fear that the other employees would see. But after this, he didn’t care anymore.

As soon as they were seated, Jaehyun texted his male assistant, Joo.

Do me a favor and bring me the prettiest bouquet of flowers that you can find to my room tonight.

That same night, Jaehyun found himself in front of Mela’s hotel room with a bottle of wine and a bouquet of fresh roses.

Mela opened the door and gasped. She truly didn’t think Jaehyun had one romantic bone in his body.

“Um come in. I just need to finish sending this text to my friend” Mela let him in and continued typing out her text.

BITCHHHH. HE JUST CAME TO MY ROOM WITH ROSES AND WINE. FJAOHFGJKAEVG.

Jaehyun gave me her a soft smile, just enough for a dimple to make an appearance.

“You actually got me flowers.” Mela said, only slightly leaving her state of shock.

“This is my apology. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I just-“Jaehyun didn’t know how to explain his feelings. This was extremely exhausting for him. Why couldn’t she just want him in the same way that he wanted her? He didn’t understand why things were difficult. She had been working with him for months and although he had authority, he knew she wasn’t his in the way he wanted her to be.

“Please finish.” Mela said, moving closer to take the bouquet from his hands.

Jaehyun pulled it away from her reach.

“Carmella. I’m not good at this.” He started. “This isn’t something that I’ve done before. I’m not sure how to say this.”

Mela sat on the bed and looked at him intently. “Just tell me what you’re feeling. I’m here to listen.”

Jaehyun didn’t join Mela. Instead, he mentally searched for the right words as he started to pace back and forth.

“I just- I just need you to know that I acted in the way that I did because I really like you. And I know that you know this but it isn’t just a simple crush, Carmella. I want you. Ever since I first laid eyes on you…” Jaehyun trailed off and set the bouquet on a table.  “…I cannot bring myself to stop thinking about you.”

Mela did not know what to say. Her theory was that he just wanted to hook up and get it over with. But after hearing him speak, it was evident that Jaehyun wanted more. This was the first time Mela had seen him so…vulnerable. It took him a while, but he continued and eventually opened up to Mela about everything. He never had an official girlfriend- only hookups. Jaehyun barely had a childhood, missed many social milestones, and never learned how to properly date. Neither did he care to. What was the point, if his parents were going to choose his spouse anyway? But after meeting Mela, his mindset had changed.

Mela was in awe. There was so much about him that she didn’t know. It was nice to speak with him without the stress of her tasks looming over her head.

So she let him stay.

They ended up having sex twice that night.

They woke up the next morning with their bodies intertwined.

“Oh my God.” Mela groaned.

“Stay still, I’m very comfortable like this.” Jaehyun said, still half asleep, with his face in the middle of Mela’s chest.

“You need to leave.” Mela said. “We cannot get caught. People will start looking for you and they cannot find you here.”

“Fine.” Jaehyun got up and put on his pajamas and robe.

He walked out and thought nobody saw him, but Ju-Ri silently watched him from a corner, as he walked out of Mela’s room and towards the elevators.

                                                           *

“Jaehyun, please. You have to stop.” Mela pleaded.

It’s not too late to fix things between us.” Jaehyun said kissing Mela’s jaw and then proceeding to leave a trail of kisses down her neck.

“Jaehyun, I am seeing someone!” Mela shouted as she pushed him away.

Jaehyun wiped the lipstick from his lips and looked at Mela. The hurt in his eyes made Mela avert eye contact to look at the floor.

“Oh.” He said, with a nod. “Um. I understand. You can go home now. Thank you for telling me.”

“Please I-“

“I said you can go home.”

Mela gave up and made her way to the office door. She turned away before closing the door behind her to see Jaehyun sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

[dienamights]

Ex’s and O’s | K.Bakugou

» Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x Fem!Reader.

» Word count: 6.7K

» Genre: hurt/comfort, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

» Summary: Its bad enough that you’re spending your ex-boyfriend’s birthday curled up in bed, wearing his merch, drinking away your sorrows, but what’s even worse is having your eardrums pierced by the blaring music upstairs at the party thrown just for him.

» Warning(s):  Smut 18+ MDNI please, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol, dubcon since reader is under the influence while getting dicked down, drunk sex, oral sex and fingering (female receiving, we getting fed tonight), one pussy slap lol, manipulation, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy)

» Author’s notes: Hello! aaaah I’m actually pretty excited about posting this fic! First of all, its Bakuhoe’s birthday! and what better way to honor it than to feed you all some good ol angst sprinkled in with some good dickin’ down. Its been years since I’ve written smut and I’m actually really fuckin proud of it, yet real nervous but I hope you enjoy! Secondly, this fic is a part of Bakugous Birthday Bash! I’m so excited to read everyone’s work, thank you everyone for holding this event and allowing my ass participate to create this with you all ♡ be sure to read everyone’s contributions, I know it’ll be more than amazing since everyone worked so hard!

Happy Birthday to our favorite King Explosion Murder♡♡

Lastly, I wanna thank everyone for their support and helping me reach 200 followers already! You guys are the cutest thing ever and I promise I’ll update more frequent the minute I’m out of uni late june fml, thank you @tteokdoroki for giggling with me when i wrote cock for the first time lol

» Masterlist | Requests

Rolling out of bed and flailing onto the floor as a start of your day ensures you that the following 24 hours will ultimately suck ass. Getting up and readying yourself for the day by looking through one of your cardboard boxes for your favorite Dynamight hoodie, the back of your mind keeps nagging you, trying to remind you of something buried deep in your subconsciousness, and you have half a heart to try and remember, because for some odd reason, you feel so fucking weary, as if the few steps from your bed to your bathroom are somehow now endless miles, almost making you breathe out in relief after finally reaching it.

And as you are making your coffee, that odd feeling keeps annoying you again, prodding at your brain to remember something, something. And ultimately, that's when your eyes fall to the counter. You knew this day was coming and you were dreading it for months, so as you look at the calendar on your kitchen counter, you frown, the quote of the day you always love reading so much long forgotten when your eyes fall on the date. 

“You’ve gotta be kiddin' me.” You mumble at the calendar on your counter hatefully with furrowed eyebrows, as if it would either reply or change its date, it doesn’t do either, and your lips curl downwards even further. As in immediate response, you pick up your phone, your coffee pot tossed aside as you dial the number of the only person you could think might help you right now.

“G’morning y/n -” you hear Kendo’s voice through your phone, and you honestly want to sob right then and there, but you hold yourself, barely and speak over her overly cheery voice first thing in the goddamn morning. “It's Kats- Bakugou’s birthday” you whimper at the slip up, being so used to the first name basis you were in with your now ex-boyfriend.

“Yeah, was kinda hoping you would’ve forgotten.” She sighs, tugging at her bangs and pulling back her phone to check the time. “Tell you what, I get off work in an hour, then I’m spending the day with you. I’ll get tequila, I know you love your shots.” 

“Ken, it's like 10 right now..” you can’t help but pout, having alcohol in your system as an escape to help you forget about the entire day still sounding better than the urge to cry and crawl into a hole, even if it's at the start of your day. “Y'know what? Get those gummy worms I like too.” “Bet.” you hang up with a sigh, moving back to the kitchen to sift through your bubble wrapped kitchen utensils, barely forcing yourself to prepare breakfast as to not have your liquor on an empty stomach.

You loathe the fact that you remembered his birthday, always reminded of him no matter how long ago since you’ve last seen him, being the center of the media’s attention for years as the number 6 hero in japan has its perks, well, in his case, but to you? Nothing but trouble and heartache as every channel you flip through plasters his face, whether it be about some big rescue mission he partook in or a new rumor about a potential lover to the explosive hero, followed by him almost attacking a reporter, yelling to them about ‘needing to mind yer goddamn business and keep my fuckin’ name outta your mouths’. Therefore, you opted long ago to stay away from the TV to avoid seeing him, his captivating rubies for eyes, covered by that goddamn mask you like to push up to his forehead, sweeping his bangs away and exposing his sweaty forehead that he bumps against yours as he makes love to you, still in his hero costume, all battered and dusty and so incredibly hot you have to- 

You grip your coffee mug tighter, almost to the point of breaking the handle off of it, placing it rather roughly onto the table before pushing your food away, appetite gone with the thought of whatever paradise you were thinking you were in before now long gone and never coming back, all because of you, of your action, of your mistake.

Kendo walks in with a bright smile on her face, as if her overly cheerful attitude will balance out the void you’re slowly but surely falling in. She shakes the bag of snacks in your face as you blink your eyes back into focus. Dragging your heavy feet across the floor to get to your kitchen to retrieve the shot glasses. Only kissing her cheek in thanks when you snatch away whatever it is she brought with her to lift your mood.

She eyes the boxes by your kitchen, the four placed haphazardly in your living room and the one you're using as a stool while filling your shot glasses, tongue sticking out to try and fill each one to the brim without spilling any on the new coffee table that she failed to notice before is still wrapped in bubble wrap that prevent any damage during the moving process.

“y/n…” you hum in response, a frown falling on your lips as the third glass spills a bit and the liquid pools on the plastic.

“Don't you think that you should’ve probably unpacked a while ago? Hasn't it been, what, five months?” 

“I didn't know you were gonna come here to harass me about my life choices, Kendo”

She flinches away, your tone venomous, almost feeling it as a slap to her face, before leaning in when she sees your eyes start to water.

“If I did, that just means it's true… that just means it happened, and I did the stupidest thing- you know what,” you wipe the few tears that managed to escape away with the sleeve of your sweater, looking down at the shots in front of you. “It, it doesn't matter anymore just- can I just drink and try to forget about how my life has gotten nothing but fucking worse since the day I left him?”

You questioned your worth that one time, that one time all those months ago. Thinking that by doing what you did and leaving, he’d drop everything and run behind you, chase after you and win you back, but he didn't, and as you sit surrounded by the evidence of how much of a failure you find out you are without him, you regret ever questioning it, ever questioning him. Because to you, living in denial was so much better than whatever hell this is.

So all you could think of is to just drown yourself in alcohol until your mind is too numb to think of the possibilities of how you could have avoided this, how you could’ve been a less of shitty person, and stop imagining how your life would be now if you just swallowed all your insecurities and just stayed. Despite the neglect, despite not being prioritized, because in some weird twisted way, those lies held you with warmth that you were never able to find after uncovering the ugly truth you’re living in right now. 

You lay on your living room floor, the alcohol swirling in your system and clouding your vision as you trace imaginary shapes in your ceiling, the voice of Kendo muffled as she rambles on and on about her day, the amount of outlaws she bitch slapped - a term she uses to get a laugh from you - and how she considers herself the unluckiest being in the whole world for having Monoma as a partner of all people, seriously contemplating who she should beat up first between him and the villains.

“Must be nice,” you voice, low and slow, scared of how Kendo would react to what you’re about to say, yet your intoxicated self unable to stop your mouth from uttering the words. “To have a purpose in life, to not be quirkless and lost like us.” your face twists in an ugly scowl at your ceiling, but mostly to yourself for putting a downer on whatever mood your friend is trying so hard to build, proven by the hitch of her breath before she enters your peripheral vision when she leans over you, all upside down and pouty.

“What’re you talki-” the shrill ringtone of her phone breaks you away from each other as she leaps to fetch it and silence the god forsaken thing by answering the call. “Battle Fist here, yes sir, I was partnered up with Phantom Thief for the patrol at area B, n-no sir I wasn’t informed.” Kendo breaths out in irritation, pinching the bridge of her nose as she starts tapping her feet aggressively on the floor, eyes falling onto yours when you look up at her all weary and sad, knowing what she would tell you once she hangs up. “That dumbass is gonna be the end of me I swear.” She crouches down to your level and kisses your forehead, promising to be back in the morning with hangover food, before she leaves and locks the door behind her. 

Now you’re left all alone, back aching from laying on the hardwood floor and eyes watering as you feel your loneliness eating you up inside, the god awful music thumbing loudly in your ears followed by the cheer of people as you-

Music?

You sit up abruptly, groaning at the dizziness of the swift movement as your hands fly to cover your ears, a failed attempt of ensuring your brain doesn’t begin to spill out from them, because of the loud voices, the bass shaking your entire fucking apartment by how strong it is, and you curse yourself for falling for the scheme the landlord pulled you in, paying half of the rent everyone did, just because you lived right below the penthouse that hosted the loudest parties in the area, 4 days out of the fucking week. 

The money hungry shameless bastard praised the apartment the minute it spiked your interest all those months ago, selling it so well you actually moved in the next week, anything to stop feeling like a burden to Kendo as you couch-surfed her apartment. Only to realize within that first week from your downstairs neighbors that he rents the penthouse to host parties of all sorts, and due to its location in the city, it was pretty popular, yet you didn’t have the money to move out again, nor the heart to concern your friend with your problems, as she was a hero with other responsibilities aside from taking care of your hopeless self.

So you get up, barely gathering yourself onto that elevator to tell off whoever the fuck will answer the door first to turn the music down. You pound the door with your fist repeatedly the minute you reach it, the door opening so suddenly you almost punch the man standing in front of you in the chest, the cool air created from the door cooling your warm cheeks as you squint at your victim for the day.

“Welcome!”

“Listen here, you buttfaced moron” you start to chew the person’s ear out, your sight blurring yet still able to notice how bright his hair is, how fiery and familiar it looks, and you’re certain you’ve seen it somewhere before. “I’m trying to drink away my regrettable life choices and cry over my ex-boyfriend, so if you would just turn down the-”

“y/n?” oh, that’s where. Your stomach drops as Kirishima looks down on you, the bright smile he flashed to whoever he was welcoming now dropped with his eyes almost bulging out at your presence, you both stand in silence, the boy unbuttoning the collar that suddenly feels like it has a chokehold on him while you cross your arms and hope the floor would swallow you a floor down back into the comfort of your home.

Kirishima basically is shutting down the second his eyes lay on you, breaking a sweat as your eyes never waver, despite how you fail to stay standing straight, what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey we’re throwing a birthday party for your ex-boyfriend because he's been feeling depressed from the day you dumped his ass’ ? No!  He wouldn’t do that to his friend, but what was he gonna say now?

Well, he didn’t have to really think about what to say to you, because his other friend didn’t hesitate to push him forward, slurring something along the lines of ‘lettin the hot ladies in so they can take a look at the prettier blond, aka moi’. In his moment of panic, the redhead stumbles forward, his cup slipping from the tips of his fingers and meeting its doom by the floor, whatever was filling it now staining your pants as you both look at the mess between you.

“Woah bro, we said you gotta get’er wet but not- '' Denki's cackle stops him from continuing whatever filth he was gonna spew out - thankfully - before his eyes drop down to your chest, or more like what was covering it. “Hey! You a Dynamight fan? Hey Bakuhoe, comere for a sec.” 

Dear God, move, for the love of all that's pure in this god forsaken world, move! Run!

All you could do is shake and breathe in short segments as your widened eyes meet his unamused ones, the garnets in his eyes glistening at your sight, he stands straight and so tall, suited up in his usual attire. Dressed for the occasion, words aren't able to describe his beauty. You try not to let your brain be dazzled by how incredibly handsome he looks. He is wearing a dress shirt, in the deep color of wine that complements his eyes, dress pants hugging his long legs, not to mention the open collar, and no tie. He looks like a long, lean Lothario. 

At that your eyes drop down to the floor, specifically the now stained carpet, your hands wrenching the end of your hoodie to distract yourself from the piercing rubies that haunts your dreams.

You build up some courage, enough of it to lift your head to continue what you came here to do, so you open your mouth, and drop a few IQs while you’re at it. “The m-music is loud and m’tryin’ to sleep,'' you mumble, noting how Kirishima leans down to make up the words you are saying over the sound of the blaring music while Bakugou narrows his eyes at you as if disregarding his sight will make him hear you better. “So, if you could turn down the heat, that’d be,” 

“You squiffed?” The blond grunts, leaning his face close to yours to inspect it, and he catches a whiff of alcohol in your breath, his eyebrows furrowing at your response. “No I'm not squinting-” 

“Yeah you’re drunk alright,” he huffs at your less than intelligent reply, pushing his glass of whiskey - you figure since it's always been his drink of choice - against Kirishima’s chest, telling him to lower the fucking volume and grabs you by your bicep. “C’mon, I’ll take you home.” you stumble at the force used against you, no matter how weak it actually is, before you barely straighten yourself to push his hand away. “I can walk down all by myself, thank you.” Of course you’d expose where you live, you dumbass.

He doesn’t question your integrity, just continues to basically drag you to the elevator before pushing your apartment door open when you choose your floor, irked to find your misplaced trust in the people of the complex by not locking your door after leaving. He barges into your bedroom and tells you to change out of your fucked up pants and proceeds to saunter to your kitchen to get you water, eyeing the boxes that he comes across during that small trip.

He stands awkwardly by the door when he sees you standing in the middle of the bedroom, sifting through countless moving boxes with your pants on the floor, thrown next to a pile of clothes that he can only assume that its supposed to be your laundry ‘basket’, until you opt against wearing any since you can't seem to find anything to replace them. And when he asks you if you just moved in, his expression sours when you shake your head no and explain to him that you’ve been living for months in this space, after chugging that cup of water like you’ve been parched for days.

“Birthday party?” You ask out of the blue as you play with the strings of your hoodie, your ears perking up at the confirmation hum you receive. “Hmm, thas’cool… I-I guess.” 

Bakugou’s impassive as he gently pushes you onto your bed, eyes meeting yours as he covers you up with your blanket. “Get some rest, I’m leaving.” He said, slowly stalking away from you and barely reaching your door as your big mouth talks on its own. Your body sitting up and facing his retreating back.

“That's what you always do, you always leave”, you utter and you see him stiffen his shoulders before he spins to face you, so fast you almost want to check up on him about getting a whiplash.

“Hah?” it's one syllable, but it shakes your very core, that one sound making you almost shake, overwhelmed by the amount of emotions, the amount of pain that one sound has. He steps closer to your bed, the stomps of his feet sounding like gun shots in your ear, and you pathetically lift up the blanket to cover yourself up, cowering behind it like it's some pseudo shield that might protect you from him.

“I’m the one that leaves?” he growls at you, his eyes sizing you up when you react to his forceful approach, leaning back to look down on you, but his lips are still curled in a frown, he tries to hold himself from blowing up at you, his feelings oddly enough still raw in his chest the moment he lay eyes on you the first time since you left, threw him away and walked away, probably finding someone better, probably finding someone who you tolerated, unlike himself, but when he sees you straighten up your back to rebuttal him, an automatic response to whenever he raised his voice at you from all those years ago, he knows he is in for a fight. 

He snarls when you nod at him, your eyes hard and glaring up at him, not knowing that your silence is by your better judgement since you don't trust your voice, knowing it’ll fail you, probably crack and show him how much he actually is affecting you by his closed off posture and demeaning look down at your frame.

“Real fuckin’ rich of ya, y/n.” He snaps back, his hands brought up to his hair, tugging at it. “As if you didn’t pack your shit,” he kicks at yet another cardboard box fucking spewed in your room, noting its heavy weight when it didn't move but an inch by his action. “Dropped your keys by the fuckin’ door,” as an emphasis, he throws your apartment key at you, making sure it doesn’t actually hit you, but falls onto your lap. “And left. Without a single fuckin’ word, like I'm some lowlife who didn't deserve an explanation, like I didn't deserve anything! And-” that hurt, goddamn it. 

Exhaling deeply, he focuses on how your eyes look a little less glossed over, a little more sober, but holding fear, and he almost steps back and out when he looks at how you’re fighting tears, almost wanting to bust his own kneecaps than to see you like this, always wanting nothing for you but to be happy, to never upset about anything no matter how small it might be.

Then why did you leave him? Left him to drown by his lonesome self, waves of his insecurities and sorrow crashing into him, pulling him even further down to his inevitable doom.

Despite the fact that you both yearn for each other, long to feel one another, engulf yourselves in the others presence. You both stand your ground, eyes glaring despite the emotions hidden behind them, mouths shut and curled into ugly scowls regardless of the words you wish to speak to each other, whispers of promises into each other's ears about being together forever, in spite of not knowing what the future holds.

Bakugou breathes out again, recalling all those months worth of coping mechanisms to exercise when placed in anger inducing situations like this one, the time in therapy spent to better himself, to control himself, to be the best version of himself, for you, hoping that one day you’ll pity him enough to want to come back, knowing full well he would never hold a grudge against you and welcome you back with open arms, intending to never repeat whatever it is he did that made you think of him as so unbearable you couldn't spent another day with him.

You on the other hand, are barely holding in the tears, wanting him to just leave your sight, so you can go back to the world of denial where he didn't look like straight out of a magazine, looking as captivating as always, as if your absence did not have an effect on the hero, of course it wouldn't, why would a quirkless extra have an effect on the great Katsuki Bakugou, that's what he used to call them, right?

“Just leave, Bakugou-” his ears pick up the way your voice breaks at his name, the way you utter it sounds so horrendous, because you aren’t meant to call him Bakugou, you’re meant to call him Katsuki, Katsu, Suki, your Suki. Not- “I hate you.”

The room suddenly spirals. The floor panels misalign themselves into zigzags. Bakugo’s eyes shatter like a glass window. He tries to hold himself against the tears that threaten to fall, stomach wrenching as if reaching from inside of his body, but it’s useless. He brings his hand up close to his chest and sinks his head, letting the words overtake him.

Oblivious to his internal struggle, you pile whatever courage you have left in another attempt to ask him to leave, aware that your body wouldn’t aid you in pushing him away physically, you open your mouth, only to gasp after a moment of silence when he pounces on you and grabs you by the neck, sliding a hand behind your head and leaning your face impossibly closer to his “you fuckin’ hate me? show me you hate me then,”

Then he's pressing his lips against yours, your half foggy mind all too surprised by the flow of motion you can only try to keep up with his feverish kisses, you try to pull away, to push him away, to no avail, Bakugou only stopping his assault on your lips to growl at them again “Show me then, hah?” 

But he wouldn't even let you, his grasp on your neck loosening to circle around your back to push you to him even more. His kisses get more and more aggressive, trying his best to show you how much he was hurt by what you said, by what you did, after all this time, almost begging you to not let him have to voice out whatever he’s feeling because he would do so much of a worse job than he is doing now.

The hands you placed on his chest in a failed attempt to push him away are now just placed over his pecs, welcoming their warmth and the way they flex under your touch, your right hand clenching over where his thumping heart is, and he almost sighs in relief, the movement feeling like it holds together all the broken pieces of his heart to make it whole again.

Almost like that gesture calmed him down, Bakugou’s rough touches start to soften, very caring as they glide to your hips before sliding underneath your - oh my God it's your special edition Dynamight hoodie! His amused chuckle tickles your lips as he pulls away when he feels you stiffen at the realization, barely letting you breathe in ease until he places his lips against your ear. “Love how m’still the only one sprawled over yer tits.”

“But I still want the real thing, lemme see ‘em, hm?” And just before throwing a dumb retort and embarrasing yourself even further, the article is tugged eagerly off of your body and thrown haphazardly on the floor. Earning yourself a low whistle when he realises you’re wearing nothing underneath. Bakugou all but shoves you onto the bed, spreading your legs when you try to rub them against each other for any friction, wedging his body neatly between them as his teeth gently bite your soft buds, pulling them slightly before captivating the nipple entirely.

His tongue flicks against your hardening nipple while keeping a watchful eye at the sinful expressions your face makes, his one hand toying with and twisting the other nipple while the other slides down to tease your needy cunt, pressing his fingers against your -fucking soaked- panties, swearing under his breath at the feeling of your walls trying to clench around his fingers just from that one movement. Sitting on his haunches, he lifts your hips with ease to pull your panties right off, eyes travelling between your heaving chest and your exposed pussy. Before lowering himself and finding comfort in biting and sucking your nipples again.

Bakugou’s smirk grows with your moans as his tongue dances over your sensitive nipples, he presses his finger against your walls, and you immediately keen at the prodding feeling that almost feels foreign after all this time apart. His thumb pushing your pussy lip to the side to see you suck his finger in like the good girl he knew you always were.

“Ba-ba-ba,” you struggle to talk, your drool collecting at your lips, stopping you from forming any words as you feel a breeze hit your spit covered tits, whining at the feeling and wanting him to pull your nipples in the warm cavern of his mouth again. Bakugou’s eyes focus on the spit line connecting his bottom lip to your nipple before disconnecting it to smash his lips against yours in an effort to shut your blabbering up.

“Ba-ba, what? y’better not be callin’ me Bakugou with my fingers deep in yer pussy baby, its Katsuki for you, yeah?” he taunts with a fake pout that immediately turns into a grin at the way you hold your pathetic sobs, pressing another finger in your tight cunt, reveling in the wet sounds your pussy makes as he thrusts his fingers in and out of it, soaking his fingers in your slick as he curls them, eager to hear the squelching sounds it would make when his cock is shoved deep inside you. “Or better yet, lemme hear you say Suki, hmm?”

“Suki- p-please, eat me out” you throw your head back and bring your hands down to play with your clit, showing him where you want his lips to be, as if the blond doesn't already know where it is, and he scoffs at the thought, slapping your hand away and giving another slap to your clit, earning a moan from you from the sharp pleasurable pain.

“Yea, yea I fuckin’ know already, needy slut,” he growls, keeping eye contact as he circles your clit with his tongue before sloppily eating out your cunt, making a mess of both drool and your arousal, mumbling “my needy slut.” to himself, and you do hear it, yet you brush it off with the thought that your lust must be messing with your brain.

Your chest still flutters at his words and your walls clench in on his fingers as he curls them again in a way you didn’t know would make you yelp like it did. He thrives off of how your body responses so easily to him, your back arching and the squelching getting louder as his fingers pick up speed, his tongue so skillful in drawing circles around your clit before sucking it again. A whine escapes you when he draws his head away from you, only for you to see the way his eyes darkens, his chin glistening from your arousal when it catches the light.

“Let go for me princess,” he whispers uncharacteristically, making you question if the glint in his eyes is from his desire for you or something else. “Lemme see you fall apart for me, alright?” the way he’s almost begging you to come undone for him takes you by surprise, and your body curls in on itself so fast, not realizing your orgasm was creeping up on you until it hits you. The knot in your stomach breaks as you gush around his fingers, white crossing your vision as he slows his pace to help you come down from your high. 

Your shuddering body lays on your bed, eyes unwavering as they meet Katsuki’s, his fingers stuffed in his mouth as he moans around them at your taste. It's all a blur after seeing that unravel, and you’re so woozy that you don’t register him discarding his clothes until he lays above you. Placing himself between your legs as he pumps his cock, hardened from seeing you fall apart on his tongue and fingers, his tip leaking precum and burning a bright red.

His movement is almost too quick for you as he dips his head into your leaking hole before pulling right back, a breathless chuckle escaping him when you whine and roll your hips and try to suck him in again, wanting to feel the stretch of him inside of you.

“Didja wanna say somethin’ princess?” he taunts you, one of his hands holding you down by your stomach while the other is wrapped around his length, teasing you in the ways that he knows drive you crazy, he leans in, using the tip of his cock to spread your pussy lips open and running it along your slit to coat it with your arousal.

“Katshu, p-please I-” you hiccup, your fists tightening on your bed sheet as you try to rock your hips up get more than just his leaking tip, but your begging is always interrupted when he isn't hearing what he wants you to say.

“Say you love me.”

You freeze at his demand, your widening eyes looking up at him before you pout your lips, not thinking about surrendering to him, no matter how much you want your cunt stuffed full of him right now.

“I don’love yooou-” you gasp as katsuki’s grip onto your waist tightens and you feel as he gives a thrust into your sopping cunt, arching your back at the burning stretch of being filled up by his thick cock. Katsuki’s hand traces down your left thigh before cupping behind your knee, hiking your leg up and out, close to your chest to expose more of yourself to him, wanting nothing more than to see his dick seething in and out of your tight pretty pussy, and by almost muscle memory, you did the same thing with your right leg, replacing his hands with your own, presenting yourself to him.

“Y’see that? Fuckin’ know you like the back of m’hand, y’think someones gonna- ah, take the fucking time to work you like I did?” he's right, absolutely right, he ruined you for any other potential lovers and he loved it with every fiber in his being, knowing this means you’re always going to be wrapped around his finger. You moan as he pushes more of himself into you, bottoming out and holding one of your tits and squeezing when he feels your walls do the same to his cock.

You hate it, after all this time, you’re still a blubbering mess the second he was one fucking inch deep in your pussy, sucking him in and clawing at his back begging for more. No self respect, no dignity, you hate it, how come after all this time he gets to come here and fuck you like you belong to him, like you’ve belonged to him despite everything that has happened.

You only realize that your eyes are closed when Katsuki’s breath hits your face, and you open them wide, noting how wet your lashes have gotten from your tears, only for him to kiss at the tears gliding along your right temple and licking the ones on your left. He breathes out a chuckle and when he leans to look at your eyes, the humor and menace you expect to see in his eyes are nowhere to be found, clouded by a solemn look instead.

“What? Yer cryin on me now, huh? Y’think a few tears are stoppin’ me?” His voice is masked so well, because he sounds like he was simply enjoying a game, like an imp that had branched from a demon. “C’mon, not gonna tell the birthday boy you love’em?”

“I don't love you, I hate you, h-hate you-” you keen as drool pools at your lips, your body betraying you as it shakes from pleasure, letting go of your legs to wrap them around his slim waist, to bring him in closer, if that was even possible, stopping his deep thrusts that were brushing up against your cervix, it feels pathetic, denying him the pleasure of telling him you love him while clinging onto him like he's your last breath of fresh air, because in a way, you feel like he is, like him leaving would just collapse your lungs and stop your heart from beating, you know that he’s gonna leave you. While your spent body would lay on your bed and you'd cry because you didn't tell him you love him, yet you wouldn’t ask him to stay, knowing deep down that you don't deserve it, you don't deserve him.

You feel his weight on top of you as he rests his elbows by your head, his lips brushing against your ear as he repeats again with every shallow thrust into your warm insides, his cock twitching from time to time in your walls. “You love me.” he says it once, twice, thrice. Every time his voice lowers more and more to a broken whisper, almost a plea instead of the cocky taunt he started off with.

Your legs are starting to ache from the grip they have around him, so you loosen up, your mind easy since his thrusts haven’t been rough nor painful. And when you do, you notice two things immediately, first, your thighs are so soaked from how he's making you feel, probably ruining your bedsheet at this point, second, he pushed his chest away from yours to look you directly in the eyes, one hand molding around your thigh to keep it from wrapping around him again while the other is placed on your stomach, his thumb inching closer and closer to your clit, wanting to toy with it, toy with you, but not ready to give you any satisfaction until you admit to him, please just tell him, that you do still love him. All insecurities, all battle scars, all emotional constipation as layers he covers himself with, that no one gives a fuck to peel off, to see who he really was, except you.

His red eyes lock onto yours as your chest heaves with breathless sobs at the lost of his warmth, and when you think he's lowering himself back down, he pulls out suddenly, sending a  shiver down your spine as you gasp, now feeling like you're frozen over, your tears coming from lack of both pleasure and warmth.

Suddenly your face is met with the pillow and you feel his hands on your hips as he lifts them up and off the bed, your half intoxicated, half aroused mind barely registering that you’ve been flipped over on your stomach until you feel his cock prodding at your cunt, easily sliding in like they’ve been made to be warmed up in there, when you know Katsuki would argue that your pussy was made just for him and to warm his dick.

He presses his chest against your back, pushing you onto the bed as he thrusts his hips roughly, pulling out fully before seething himself right back in, your moans and whimpers muffled by your pillow from being pushed down by his hand as his other holds your hips firmly. 

Then what happened next probably shocked him more than you, despite how delirious you’ve become due to his relentless thrusting, his dripping tears feel cool on your bare warm shoulder, one by one as his groans and moans turn into strangled sobs, before Katsuki digs his teeth into that shoulder, to both hear you scream and to muffle his cries from you. 

“because I love you” he sobs, detaching his teeth from their grip and kissing the bite marks before resting his forehead against it, but his thrusts never cease, getting sloppier, as if the confession is pushing him off the edge. Dragging the tip of his nose from your bitten and bleeding shoulder to the back of your ear, his own face flush and warm against you as he breathes harshly against your ear and kisses along it.

“So-” he moans again, the hand behind your neck now turning your face so he could see your fucked out expression, the tears streaming down your face and the drool that pools under your cheeks, with your tongue lolled out and your eyes barely focusing on his form.

“You better say you do too, becau-”

“I love you.” you gush, like saying it is a breath of fresh air, your eyes never leaving his teary ones, your gaze so intense and fixated on him with no regards to the way the snapping of his hips against yours is shaking your entire body against the bed. 

With new found vigor from your confession, Katsuki grabs onto the meat of your ass, hammering into you from behind with force that pushes you against the bed even further, your pulled hair jerking your head back so he can listen to the lewd noises you are making, long forgotten the will to cover your pleasure and hiding your moans.

Your ass heavily slaps against his thighs as he grabs your hips with both hands and pounds into your sopping wet cunt, relishing in the way you’re begging for him. “Y’like it when I fuck you baby, hmm? Like it when I stuff you so fuckin’ full of me?” He growls, feeling you push your ass back every time you repeat ‘yes’ to his questions. “Yes, yes love it, love you, please please don’t stop, please ‘Suki. Yes, gonna cum ‘Suki please” you weep, your head pounding from the grip he had on your hair and your eyes crossing as you feel his thrusts stutter, getting sloppier when you bounce your ass against him, his hand coming down and slapping it.

“That's fuckin’ right, cum on this cock, c’mon baby” he brings four of his fingers to rub your clit with urgency, and you can’t help but arch your back as your orgasm hits you again, screeching as you feel your walls tightening on him, squeezing him for what he’s worth. “F-fuck ah, y-you’re so- Fuck” his heavy weight falls on you as he fills you to the brim with his milky seed, forehead pressed against your shoulder as he rocks his hips against you, pushing more of his load inside before slowly pulling out, gaze flutters down to where your bodies were once joined, seeing your mixed arousal seeping out of your hole and he has half a mind to push it back in with his fingers.

But he flips you over effortlessly, the sight of your crossed out eyes and wet cheeks squeezing his chest at the realization he might’ve been too rough on you, so he wipes your cheek with the palm of his hands and revels in the way you lean towards him, turning your face to kiss his palm. “Say it again.” barely a whisper, as you flip his hand and kiss the back of it as well, and he almost repeats himself, thinking you didn’t hear him, but your hands reach up and cup his face, bringing him towards you. “I love you Katsuki” and goddamn if that wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever spoken. “Again,” “I love you, Katsuki” “Again,” you giggle, and he knows that's probably what angels sound like.

Your thumb brushes over his warm cheeks, red from showing vulnerability, and you pull him even closer, “Happy birthday, ‘Suki.”

“Yea,” He breaths out, his lips barely brushing against your bitten and bruised ones. “It really fuckin’ is.”

aaaaaaaaah! Hope you enjoyed it! Lemme know what you think of the smut, I also changed my writing style from past tenses to present tenses or tried to at least

Borrowers (taglist):

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

[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. 

[jungshookz]

smitten: y/n's note is in jungkook's bag and she needs to get it back like, right now

➺ pairing; jeon jungkook x reader

➺ genre; smitten!miniseries!! bff!kook & smitten!y/n!! university!au!! honk honk humour!! the boo hoo angsty wattpad-energy fic of your dreams!! unrequited love!! it hurts so bad but that's what makes it so good!!

➺ wordcount; 7.1k

➺ summary; y/n realizes her meticulously written i love you note is burning a hole at the bottom of jungkook's bag and the mere thought of him finding it is enough to make her feel sick to her stomach.

➺ what to expect; "well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that."

➺ smitten: part one [the almost confession]

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

[previously, on smitten...]

what?

where the hell is it?

you reach into the side pockets and you're disappointed when you end up pulling out old tissues and empty gum wrappers

it's not in the front pocket either — just your keys, a pack of bubblegum, and a small bottle of hand sanitizer

your brows knit together in deep thought as you settle back against your seat, your eyes flickering to the side as you-

you immediately pale

oh my god.

you're positive that your heart stops beating for three whole seconds the moment you realize where exactly the note is — because no, you idiot, you didn't shove it into your own bag earlier-

the note is in jungkook's bag.

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

the next thirty or so minutes of class seem to drag on at a snail's pace and you find yourself checking the time on your phone every five seconds to see when you can finally dart out those doors

your first instinct was to immediately get up and leave because of course you wanted to immediately get up and leave, but with only twenty-ish people in the class and the fact that you're seated near the front... well, it would be a little awkward to just pack up your things and trek up towards the doors without a legitimate excuse (you were tempted to tell your professor that your stomach wasn't feeling very good but the thought of your peers associating you with explosive diarrhea quickly changed your mind)

so, you decided to be a good student and wait it out — but, being perfectly honest, you haven't really been paying much attention to the professor since the thought of you shoving your hi bestie, i'm head-over-heels in love with you note into jungkook's bag instead of yours contaminated your mind five minutes ago

...

you let out a little huff before shaking your head to yourself

how could you be so careless?!

you don't even know how it happened

your bag was sitting on your right thigh, jungkook's bag was sitting on your left thigh... so how the hell did you manage to shove it into his bag??

on the bright side, at least you know where it is, right?

it's in the right side pocket of the bag, so all you have to do is unzip it and stick your hand in and out really quickly without jungkook noticing you rummaging around in his belongings

...but what if he's already read the note?

your foot taps impatiently against the carpeted ground and you reach up and start tugging at your earlobe anxiously, your eyes flickering up towards the dusty analog clock hanging on the wall

c'mon... c'mon...

your grip tightens around your pencil as you continue to trace circles aimlessly on the page, the paper crinkling slightly from the amount of pressure you're putting on it

the stress that's currently eating away at you is probably going to take ten years off your life

"-so, that's pretty much it from me for the day!"

you don't think you've ever been so happy for a class to end as soon as the screen goes black at the front and you waste absolutely no time in packing up

you probably look insane trying to shove your laptop and your notebook into your bag at the same time but you couldn't care less at this point because you need to get the hell out of here

"-please remember to contribute to the discussion threads online... at least four responses, please, and none of those bullshit 'yes, i agree!' responses. i'm definitely not going to count those as participation marks-"

you close your bag with a sharp ziiiip! and you hurry to fold the squeaky desk back into place, a couple of people turning to glance at you for the sudden abundance of clattering and knocking coming from your direction

"excuse me, pardon me-" you pull your backpack on as you step over multiple sets of legs, trying your best not to trample on any feet or knock anyone's tooth out with your bag, "sorry! excuse me-"

you can feel the adrenaline pumping through your veins as you jog up the steps two at a time, your brain immediately mapping out the route to the library jungkook said he'd be at

best case scenario: he hasn't found the note and your friendship with him is still very much in tact

worst case scenario: he found the note and is currently reading it at this point in time and your friendship with him is starting to crumble but you still have a chance to swoop in and pick up the pieces

the absolutely worst case ever in the entire world scenario: he's found the note, he's read the note, he's processed the note, and your friendship with him has been completely annihilated and now he's planning to change his name and leave the country so that he doesn't have to confront you about it

you use your shoulder to shove the doors open before bursting out into the open air, ignoring the concerned glances you're starting to receive from your obviously frazzled state

"oh god, oh god, oh god-!" your backpack flops wildly against your back as you rush down the narrow brick steps leading towards the main boulevard

realistically, jungkook's probably found and read the note, so all you have to do is come up with a short monologue about how all of it was fake and that the note was just a sick, twisted prank of some kind

i know that the note makes it seem like i'm telling you that i'm in love with you, but that's not the truth at all!

"woah, watch it-!"

you accidentally knock into someone's shoulder while sprinting down the lane and you turn around for a second just to hold a hand out while flashing the stranger a sheepish smile

"sorry! so sorry-" you turn back around, reaching up to keep your glasses secured on the top of your head as you continue to sprint, your sneakers slapping down against the pavement

as you read in the note, i made a point about how since we're friends, we should be honest with each other... and honestly, there are nothing but lies in the note! and there's a lesson in that, you know? words can be full of lies but we, as human beings, should be full of truths-

"nope, hate that-" you shake your head and immediately scrunch up that mental piece of paper before tossing it into your brain's garbage bin

you'd sound like an obnoxious philosophy student if you hit him with that explanation

it was a prank! i want to start a prank war with you and this is how i'm kicking things off!

that... that could work, right?

that's not bad!

just tell him that you wanted to start a prank war with him so you decided to go big or go home with an i love you, best friend note to see how he would react!

"so stupid-" you mutter to yourself, slowing down to a jog as you approach the doors to the library, "so, so stupid-"

the Super Epic Prank War ROFL XD™ explanation isn't the greatest excuse but it's the best you can do on such short notice

thankfully, it doesn't take you very long to track down jungkook considering the fact he always sits in the same area every time the two of you come here

your feet come to a screeching halt the moment you spot him and you quickly step to the side to hide behind the wall

you slowly lean over a little to peek at him

he has his headphones on and he's busy typing away at his laptop and you can tell he's concentrating really hard because he has that cute frown on his face and occasionally he'll mutter something to himself

jungkook in intense focus mode is something you find to be very endearing :-)

...

you quickly shake your head to snap yourself out of your daze before focusing on jungkook's face again

he certainly doesn't look like he just read an explosive love letter...

hm

you could still be safe!

...for now, that is.

"okay, y/n-" you stand up straight and let out a breath, giving yourself a mental pat on the head in an effort to calm your nerves, "better sooner than later, right? just- you just have to rip it off like a bandaid-"

your anxiety seems to build with every step that brings you closer to jungkook and you can almost hear the jaws theme song playing all around you

da-dum

jungkook, i swear i have a perfectly logical explanation for this...

da-dum

i know the note does a very convincing job of making it seem like i'm in love with you, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

da-dum, da-dum

consider this your initiation into our very serious prank war, my friend!

dadumdadumdumdumbdumbdumbthisissuchadumbdumbidea-

"hi!" you greet a little too enthusiastically, trying your best not to make it seem like you just sprinted across campus to get to him even though you very clearly did

"sorry, seat's reserv- y/n?" jungkook looks up from his laptop before frowning, quickly glancing back down at his screen to check the time as he pulls his headphones off to hang around his neck, "aren't you- didn't your class end, like, literally a minute ago? why are you so- did you run here??" he asks incredulously, getting up from his seat as his brows knit together in concern

"no, no! of course i didn't run here, silly- oh, god, give me a sec-" you wheeze, bending down and gripping onto the back of the wooden chair in front of you as you try to catch your breath, your chest still falling and rising at a concerning pace from the physical stress of sprinting and the mental stress of the current situation, "it was more of a- of a brisk walk, if you think about it- jesus, i think i'm gonna throw up-"

"okay, you need to drink some water- come and sit next to me-" jungkook reaches out to help lead you around the table towards him, "god, i don't know why you thought you had to run over, it's not like i was planning on going anywhere-"

"i'm fine, kook, it's fine-"

"you're, like, literally radiating heat," jungkook turns you around and pulls your bag off your back before pulling out a chair and helping you into it, "and your face is all red!" he frowns, setting your bag down on the table and unzipping it to pull out your water bottle

"my face is always this red!" you force out a casual laugh, waving your hand to dismiss him as you lean back against the seat, "i'm fine, it's fine-"

"shut up and take a sip-" jungkook untwists the cap of your water bottle before shoving it into your hands and gently lifting it up towards your mouth, his head tilting up a little so he can check and see if you're actually drinking anything, "c'mon, hydrate yourself-"

you swallow a couple gulps of water before pulling the bottle away and reaching up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "god, i love water-"

"yeah, i bet." jungkook chuckles, visibly more relieved now that he knows you won't be passing out from exhaustion anytime soon

as you put your water bottle away, your eyes lower towards jungkook's backpack slouching against the leg of his chair and almost immediately the anxiety that you thought you'd just swallowed down bubbles right back up

"so, are you going to tell me why you're acting like the cops are after you?" jungkook jokes, taking his seat before pulling his headphones off and setting them down next to his laptop

"i just, um-" you press your lips together as you slowly start to lean down, stretching your arm out towards the pocket, "i just wanted to see you, buddy!"

"i don't believe that for a second." jungkook snorts, turning to look at you

you shoot straight back up and pull your arm up and behind your head as if you're in the middle of a good stretch, "hey, what's with that tone? it's not a crime for me to want to see you-"

"you saw me at lunch! and that was only like an hour and a half ago-" jungkook turns his head to look back at his screen and you quickly revert back to your mission impossible secret agent mode

the forced smile drops from your face and you lean back down, your fingers blindly feeling for the cool metal of the zipper

"you know, you actually came at just the right time-" jungkook speaks up again and you pause just in case you need to pull away from his bag, but he makes no move to turn and look at you, "ji-eun was about to leave for her class but now you can meet her before she goes off!"

"uh-huh..." your tongue pokes out in concentration as you unzip the pocket in one swift movement, immediately sticking your hand in and feeling around for the balled-up piece of paper, "sounds gre-"

hold on, what did he just say?

you shoot back up

"did you just-" you choke and reach up to pat your chest gently, "i'm sorry, did you just say that ji-eun was here?"

"uh-huh!" jungkook nods, "i didn't know she had a spare at the same time as i did so i was surprised when she came over to say hi- it turns out our schedules are, like, sort of similar which oddly makes me kind of happy-"

it's at that moment that you notice the cherry-patterned tote bag slumped in the chair sitting across from you and you let out a nervous chuckle as you shift in your seat, "great! great, that's so- great, it's great that i'm meeting ji-eun today, out of all days..." you trail off, glancing around warily as you try to come up with some kind of an exit strategy

you're just really not in the mood to meet the love of jungkook's life today

you've already been hit with so many blows and it's only two in the afternoon-

"sorry that took so long! i couldn't find a bin but i bumped into my friends and they said they'd throw it out for me-"

oh, you have got to be kidding me.

your eyes widen in mild panic upon immediately recognizing ji-eun to be the girl who had overheard your entire monologue in the bathroom earlier today — and from the way her eyes flicker, it seems as though she remembers exactly who you are as well

"oh, no worries!" jungkook beams at ji-eun before pointing to you with his thumb, "this is my friend, by the way. the one i was talking about earlier! y/n, this is ji-eun."

you stay quiet as you continue staring up at ji-eun, your mind racing a mile a minute as you consider your current options

you can pretend like you've never met her before or you can make things awkward by telling jungkook that you met her today after she'd emptied her bladder

"...y/n?" jungkook lowers his voice, nudging you with his elbow before letting out a nervous chuckle, "please say something."

"i- yes, hello!" you blurt out, the feet of your chair scraping against the rough carpet as you get up from your seat to stick your hand out towards ji-eun, "it's- ah- it's- it's so nice to meet you! i'm y/n."

ji-eun stays quiet for a second before her lips turn up in a polite smile and she reaches towards you, gently taking your outstretched hand in hers (for the record, her hands are shockingly soft and supple), "it's lovely to meet you... as well, y/n. i love your glasses!"

you can't help but notice the immediate warmth that seems to surround ji-eun and suddenly it makes a lot more sense as to why jungkook's attracted to her

you're about as comforting as stepping into a puddle of water while wearing socks

you feel a slight sense of relief seeing that ji-eun is playing along but your new concern is whether or not she's connected the dots that your monologue in the bathroom was dedicated to jungkook

you didn't actually say his name when you were talking out loud, so you might be able to get away with this...

"oh, these old things?" you reach up to feel the glasses sitting on top of your head before flicking your hand at her, "i bought them on amazon. they're blue-light glasses- i can totally send you the link if you want."

"that would actually be great!" she gasps, nodding enthusiastically, "i desperately need a pair of blue-light glasses- seriously, i stared at my laptop screen for, like, ten hours straight today and i really feel like they're about to roll out of my head-"

"oh my god, don't even get me started. at this point it'd probably feel better to rip them right out of their sockets-"

"ji-eun, you ready?"

"let's gooo, i wanna get an iced coffee before we head off to class."

you and ji-eun don't get a chance to continue bonding over the pain of sore eyes when you're suddenly interrupted by two new voices

you look up to see two guys approaching the table and you subtly push your seat back a bit as you prepare yourself to say hello again

"oh! yeah, i'm ready, sorry-" ji-eun gestures towards you with a smile, "this is- this is jungkook's friend, by the way. y/n, these are my friends."

"hi, hello-" you get up from your seat again to stick your hand out, offering the two (very handsome, might you add) strangers a friendly smile, "i'm y/n, jungkook's friend- but you- you already knew that because that's what ji-eun just said-"

"i'm taehyung! you can call me tae-" the corners of taehyung's mouth immediately raise in a bright grin and he gives your hand a firm shake before nodding next to him, "and this is jimin!"

"hi..." you trail off, turning to give jimin a handshake as well, "so nice to meet you!"

"oh, i just- i actually just washed my hands, so-" jimin chuckles, looking down at your hand before taking a small step back, "but it's nice to meet you... jungkook's friend."

ooh

is it just you or did it suddenly get a little icy in here?

"oh, no problem! um, yeah, you too." you pull your hand back before swallowing nervously and forcing the polite smile back on your face, "i like your jacket, by the way! it looks really cool."

maybe it's because he's wearing giant sunglasses indoors but you can't help but feel slightly intimidated by jimin

you can't see his eyes but you can certainly feel them on you and you're definitely getting the vibe that jimin is already not the biggest fan of you for some weird reason

"thank you." he responds curtly, smoothing a hand over the leather before looking down at ji-eun, "so can we go now?"

"mhm!" ji-eun gets up from her chair before pushing it back into place, pulling her tote back up onto her shoulder before flashing a sweet smile at jungkook, "see you later, alligator."

"in a while, crocodile!" jungkook responds enthusiastically, watching with twinkly eyes as she turns and heads off towards the exit with jimin and taehyung glued at either side of her

god

she even walks prettily

and you were literally clomping down the boulevard like a feral caveman a second ago

you wait until they've disappeared to turn and face jungkook with a raised eyebrow, "...jimin was kind of a bitch."

"hey, play nice!" jungkook frowns, reaching over to give your arm a gentle whack, "he's a fashion major! ji-eun says being snooty is part of the degree requirements-" he grins, shaking his head slightly before leaning back against his chair, "she's, like, super funny."

"mm." you hum, still feeling a little uneasy about your interaction with jimin

you just hate it when first meetings don't go well and that first meeting definitely wasn't super great

but it wasn't like you did anything wrong, right?

you were great!

snooty jimin was the one who was being rude

whatever

hopefully you won't have to hang out with him too often if jungkook and ji-eun become an item

maybe you can just stick with taehyung!

he seems to be a lot friendlier

"oh, by the way, i-" you're suddenly reminded of your main mission and you turn to point down at jungkook's bag, "it's not a big deal, but i- i accidentally shoved something in your bag earlier and- could i just get it back from you?"

"you did?" jungkook frowns, leaning down to pick his bag up before unzipping it all the way and pulling both flaps open, "what was it?"

"it was- uh- just some notes on a scrap piece of paper!" you immediately feel the weight lift from your shoulders at jungkook's cluelessness to the situation, "i put it in the right side pocket-"

"wait, are you talking about, like, a balled up thing of paper?" jungkook pauses before looking up at you with wide eyes, "oh, shit- was it important??"

"um, i wouldn't call it important-" you snort, shaking your head, "is it not there? i swore it was in the right side pocket-"

"no, no, it was there! it was there, i just- ji-eun needed to spit her gum out and i thought it was one of my scrap pieces of paper-" jungkook winces, grabbing his phone and unlocking it with fumbling fingers, "i'm so sorry, y/n- let me text ji-eun and ask her which garbage can she threw it into and i can go dig it out-"

"no, no, it's okay!" you nearly let out a screech of delight knowing that your note now has a slobbery wad of gum in it and is living at the bottom of a trash can, "it's fine, i just- they were just boring notes for something. i just wanted to see if i had really shoved it into your bag or not."

"oh, okay-" jungkook's shoulders immediately slump and he sets his phone down on the table, "you're sure it wasn't important?"

"100%." you hold both hands out with a chuckle, "i needed to throw it out anyway so i guess ji-eun actually did me a favour-"

"okay, phew." jungkook sighs, zipping his bag back up and plopping it back down on the ground next to his feet, "anyways- i'm actually glad you're here because now you can help me plan out my date! i was working on it but then ji-eun came and obviously i couldn't have that google doc open in front of her-" he turns his laptop to show you all of his hard work with a grin, "check it out! i have a list of things i need to buy, i have outfit ideas, i even went on pinterest for inspiration-"

"wow, kook-" your eyes bulge out for a second at the sight of the extensive and shockingly organized google doc before you reach over to pull his laptop closer towards you, "i... i really don't think i've ever seen you... even make a google doc before-"

he even has the sunset time written down for the date

why would he need to know what time the sun is setting??

"i have everything planned for next week." jungkook pulls his laptop back to him as you settle back against your seat, "i already emailed my landlord to ask if i would even be allowed to hang out on the rooftop and he said it would be fine! he also reminded me to keep a brick wedged between the door so that i don't lock us up on the rooftop-"

"so you're definitely going with the rooftop picnic, then?"

"oh, i'm actually changing it to a rooftop dinner instead of a picnic." jungkook shakes his head before giving you a half-hearted shrug, "i think a picnic is cute but i really wanna try to impress her, y'know? i ordered this thing on amazon just now- basically, it's a medium-sized inflatable bubble tent! the description says it's perfect for two people and- i'm gonna, like-" he pauses and looks away from his screen towards you with a smile, "well, you know, i'm gonna do what you said and i'm gonna stuff it full of blankets and pillows and... hopefully i can string up fairy lights and stuff on the inside... so that after the date we can go in there and just talk and not have to worry about getting attacked by mosquitos!"

"wow, that's-" you cross your arms over your chest before leaning back and looking up towards the ceiling, "huh. that's actually a cute idea, kook. i wouldn't have been able to come up with something like that. i didn't even know transparent tents existed."

"i know." jungkook gives you a smug little smile before bursting into a grin, "but yeah, that's it! all we have to do is go and pick up all the supplies and stuff."

"we?" you frown, looking back down at jungkook, "i... wasn't aware i was part of this plan..."

"what? of course you are!" jungkook snorts, looking at you as if a third eye just sprouted from your forehead, "obviously you have to help me-"

"well, i just don't know if that's-" you chuckle uneasily as you rub the back of your neck, "i really- i don't wanna get in your way, you know? maybe you should- maybe you should just take care of all of this yourself! i mean, you basically planned everything already-"

"what? but- but you're my-" jungkook deflates and you instantly feel bad upon seeing his eyes suddenly turn sad, "okay..."

you press your lips together and wait for him to say something else but the next few seconds are filled with nothing but awkward silence and the faint buzzing of the fluorescent lights hanging above you

you'd jump off a cliff if jungkook asked you to but helping him prepare and set up his date is something that you,.., definitely would not enjoy.,.,

but then again, this isn't about you, is it?

this is about jungkook, your friend, and he needs your help to set up this very important date that-

oh, damnit.

"i'm-" you clear your throat as you sit up in your seat, reaching over to give jungkook's hand a pat, "no, of course i'll help, kook. i just thought that- well, this date seems so important to you that i thought you wanted to take care of all the details yourself!"

the bright smile immediately returns to jungkook's face and you resist the urge to call him out on so blatantly guilt-tripping you like that-

"yes! you're the best!"

"i know."

»»————- 🖤 ————-««

although you and jungkook are practically inseparable on campus (and some would say it might be healthy for the two of you to give each other a little bit of space) — you don't think you'll ever say no to hanging out with him downtown

of course, hanging out with jungkook downtown would be a lot more fun if it weren't for the fact that the two of you have basically spent the entire day shopping for all the things he needs for his date

and if it weren't for the fact that he paid for lunch and treated you to a cake pop and a venti-sized iced coffee, you would probably be livid about having to carry everything for him because you really feel like your arms are about to pop right off in about two seconds

fancy cutlery, porcelain plates, fluffy throw pillows, a giant blanket, fairy lights... at this point he might as well buy an entire house for ji-eun

and look, you know you probably sound bitter and that-should-be-me about this whole situation, but that couldn't be farther from the truth!

it's just that listening to someone you like gushing about the person that they like for an entire day while you're carrying bags full of things for their date can get a little mentally and physically exhausting so if you're grouchy right now it's really not your fault

"i think we might have to call an uber back to your place, jungkook-" you mutter, adjusting the hefty tote bag over your shoulder with a grunt as you trail behind him on the sidewalk, "bringing all of this on the bus is going to piss people off-"

you stumble over your feet a little when the bag in your right hand knocks into a garbage can and you curse to yourself while resisting the urge to kick the damn thing over

"okay, grumpy, we'll call an uber home-" jungkook spins around with a smile before raising the notepad in his hand and tapping against it with his pen, "i just have one more thing i have to take care of and then we can go!"

"okay, well-" you set the bags down onto the ground with a fwump! before rubbing your sore palms together, "what else do you have to get?"

jungkook offered to help carry a couple of things but you insisted that you'd take it all and that he should just focus on ticking off all of the items on his list

you wince at the sight of the pinkish-red imprints now embedded into your palms from the straps of the bags

obviously you've now come to regret your generous offer

"flowers!" jungkook chirps, using his pen to point to the flower shop a couple of shops down, "i have to greet ji-eun with a bouquet of flowers as pretty as she is-"

"yeah, i understand-" you adjust the two bags on both shoulders before bending down to pick up the other two on the ground, "also, i'm not a genius or anything but i'm pretty sure the flowers aren't going to survive until the date if you buy them now-"

"duh, obviously not- i'm going to place an order now and then pick them up on the day of the date!" jungkook tsks, waiting for you to join his side before he begins walking towards the flower shop, "thanks for doing all of this for me, by the way. you really are the best." he hums, hurrying over to open the door for you

"i... yeah, of course, kook." you feel yourself soften slightly as soon as you see the sweet little smile on his face and you quickly scold yourself in your head for being so curt with him all day, "that's what friends are for, right?"

"mhm!" jungkook slaps his hands down on your shoulders from behind before giving them a squeeze, "and i am so letting you choose whatever you want for dinner tonight-"

"hello!"

"oh, jesus-" you and jungkook are immediately greeted by an overenthusiastic employee as soon as you step into the shop and you honestly probably would've knocked him out with one of your shopping bags if they weren't so heavy-

"are you two looking for anything in particular?" he smiles kindly before gesturing towards the large selection of flowers all around you, "we have flowers of all kinds! roses, tulips, lilies- i can even show you flowers from our new tropical selection-"

"actually-" jungkook nudges you aside before glancing down at the employee's nametag, "seokjin, i'd like to place an order for a custom bouquet, if that's okay."

"ah, a custom bouquet!" seokjin claps his hands and rubs them together enticingly, "what are you celebrating? i need to know so that i can help pick out the perfect flowers for your bouquet."

"well, i don't know if it's a celebration-" jungkook chuckles, his cheeks pinking slightly as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck, "it's for a first date."

"a first date!!" seokjin gasps excitedly before turning his head to look at you, "you must be so-"

"-oh, not for me!" you let out a laugh before shaking your head quickly, "it's- it's definitely not for me. i'm just here to provide moral support and-" you lift one of the bags to show him, "muscular support."

"ah, i see... okay, well- why don't i take you around and introduce you to the different candidates you could consider for your bouquet?" seokjin turns back to look at jungkook, "each flower you choose will be very important in showing your future lover how much you care about them-" he pauses when he notices you hovering behind jungkook and he leans over a little with a bright smile, "why don't you go and wait by the front counter, darling? you can put everything down there and take a little break. there's some cucumber water and fresh puff pastry apple roses up at the front if you're interested!"

"well, i can't say no to free food." you snort, nodding before turning to head towards the front counter, "i'll just wait for you over there, then..."

you nearly let out a moan of relief as soon as you set all the bags down and you twist your upper body to the right and to the left until you feel the a satisfying pop! of your spine cracking back in place

your body was not made to carry heavy things

in fact, you'd like to argue that your body was made to lie down and do nothing

you take a seat on the wooden stool before turning to look at the apple roses sitting prettily in the display case and you almost feel like you shouldn't touch them even though seokjin offered them to you

even the pitcher of cucumber water looks too nice to touch

this place is awfully fancy

you didn't even know flower shops could be this fancy

you prop both elbows up on the counter before leaning back comfortably, your eyes lazily scanning around the store

"$15 for a single rose?" you gawk at the little wooden sign poking out from a large bouquet of neatly wrapped long-stem roses before making a face, "god."

you can't even imagine how much a custom bouquet is going to cost if a single rose is fifteen bucks

"-also write a note for you and attach it to the bouquet, if you're interested in that. it'll be an additional five dollars, but we handwrite it on the highest quality card stock with the most beautiful calligraphy and we even spray it with perfume-"

you perk up when you hear seokjin's voice and you look to see him and jungkook coming over to you

you have to admit that seokjin is great at his job because he's doing a good job at milking every dollar out of jungkook-

"yeah, that would be great!" jungkook nods enthusiastically, pulling his backpack off before unzipping it to grab his wallet, "i think a small note might be cute-"

"oh, that reminds me!" seokjin stops in his tracks right as he's about to lift the wooden slab to get behind the counter, "would you be interested in purchasing a teddy bear as well? if you add a teddy bear to your order, i'll give you a slight discount on the flowers."

"ooh, a discount!" jungkook gasps and you turn your head slightly so seokjin won't see you rolling your eyes at how much he's forcing jungkook to buy

you respect the hustle but this is too much

"where are the teddy bears?"

"right by the flowers!" seokjin smiles, wrapping an arm around jungkook's shoulders and spinning him around, "we can round back and take a look-"

"okay, i think i have to cut in here-" you chuckle, reaching out and grabbing the back of jungkook's elbow, "you don't- you don't think a bouquet of flowers and a teddy bear is a little too much for a first date?" you clear your throat quietly before offering a shrug, "i feel like that's just... a lot, kook. i mean, i would be overwhelmed if-"

"well, i guess it's a good thing i'm not taking you out on a date then, right?" jungkook teases, wiggling his arm out of your grip before turning back to look at seokjin, "onward to the bears, my good man!"

ouch

"yeah." you can't help but frown as jungkook and seokjin head back towards the flowers, "thanks for the reminder."

"that's gotta hurt."

"god-" you jump at the sudden appearance of an employee standing behind the counter and you place a hand over your chest before letting out a breath, "you scared me!"

"sorry." he shrugs, "we polished the floors this morning so my shoes are making, like, no noise."

"oh."

a moment of silence passes while you turn to face away from him again, but all of a sudden-

"so he really can't tell that you like him, huh?"

"you-" you immediately straighten up and your head spins around so fast that you're surprised you didn't complete decapitate yourself, "excuse me??"

"what? it's obvious." the employee snorts, spraying cleaner onto the counter before reaching up to yank the tattered rag off his shoulder, "it's painfully obvious, actually-"

you can feel your entire face starting to go red as this complete stranger continues to rip you a new one and you hold a hand out to shut him up, "no offense, but i-i don't think this is any of your business, sir-"

"it's yoongi." yoongi looks down at his apron for a second before frowning, "huh. i forgot to put my dumb name tag on again-"

"well, yoongi-" you place emphasis on his name in an effort to intimidate him and make him go away, "you don't know what you're talking about and i suggest you mind your own business-"

"you should tell him before it's too late." yoongi doesn't seem to be all that affected by your biting tone and you roll your eyes at the way he rounds back to the topic

"what are you even talking about?"

"well, i assume you're going to be his best man at his wedding. from the way it's looking, you're certainly not going to be the bride," yoongi purses his lips as he folds up the rag into a neat little square, "you don't wanna wait until you're fixing his tie at the wedding to tell him that you love him."

"what makes you think i lo-" you cut yourself off quickly before that word slips out of your mouth, "like him?"

"if you didn't, you wouldn't be here right now." yoongi points out with a tilt of his head, "and from how smudgy your eyeliner is, it looks like you've been working hard all day."

your jaw drops slightly and you can't help but scoff

the nerve of this guy!

"who do you think you are?!"

"i'm yoongi." yoongi raises a brow, "i told you that like a second ago- wow, you are not a good listener-"

"do you usually do this with all of the customers who come here?" you interrupt, crossing your arms defensively before leaning in slightly, "you're awfully nosy-"

"i only do this with the ones that seem to have something juicy going on." yoongi hums, leaning down to put the spray bottle of cleaner under the counter, "this is a flower shop. the most exciting part of my day is watching a bumblebee choose which flower to land on."

"well, nothing juicy is going on here so-" you twist back around before sticking your nose up in the air slightly, "sorry to disappoint."

"alright, fair enough." yoongi nods to himself, letting out a sigh as he slowly backs away from the counter, "i guess i'll just leave you to... wallow in self-pity... and continue staring at your friend with cartoon hearts floating around your head-"

"'you should tell him before it's too late-'" you swivel around and slap both your palms down on the counter, "why would you- why would even say something like that?! i can't tell him. are you insane?!"

a smirk twitches at the corner of yoongi's mouth at your sudden confession and he lets out a sigh before stepping back up towards you, "and why can't you tell him?"

"because- i just can't! he's-" you clear your throat before leaning in and lowering your voice, "he's literally taking someone else out on a date- we're here to buy flowers for his date-"

"so what?" yoongi interrupts, "it's just a date. it's not like you're stopping his wedding."

"so what? because he doesn't like me back, so what's the point?" you hiss, resisting the urge to reach over and smack some common sense into this very nosy and very stubborn stranger, "this isn't a romantic comedy- and even if it was, i'm very obviously not the main character-"

"you don't know that he doesn't like you back."

...

well now he's just toying with you

"i... i can't tell if you're kidding or not-"

"do i look like i'm kidding?" yoongi asks, pointing to his poker face before shaking his head, "you don't know that he doesn't like you back. you've obviously never asked him."

"oh, please." you scoff, turning around to lean back against the counter again, "trust me, i know it."

"well, did he ever explicitly say that he didn't like you?" yoongi leans over to peek at jungkook over your shoulder, "do you have a definitive answer to this particular question?"

"no, but he doesn't have to... we're just friends." you frown, your eyes wandering over to the back of jungkook's head, "he doesn't like me. i know he doesn't. we're just friends."

we're just friends.

(saying it out loud is a lot more depressing than you thought it'd be.)

"well, maybe the reason why you're just friends is because the two of you won't allow yourselves to be more than that," yoongi suggests, your head tilting to the side slightly as you force yourself to consider his surprisingly wise words, "it's obvious that you have a solid friendship so it would suck if a relationship ruined that- so maybe he does like you and is only asking someone else out to try to force himself not to like you..."

you feel your heart skip a beat when jungkook turns to glance at you over his shoulder with a soft smile while seokjin continues rattling off about the vast choice of teddy bears available for purchase

you bite back a giggle when he mouths a desperate 'help' at you before raising his hand and twirling his finger next to his head to tell you that seokjin is fully crazy

"...so i guess what i'm trying to say is that you're never really going to know how he feels about you if you don't ask him," you tune back in to the end of yoongi's little speech and you turn your head slightly to glance back at him, "but what do i know, right? i just polish counters at high-end flower shops."

🎙️tell jungkook he's being an idiot or tell y/n to get a backbone (send in an ask!)

✨why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? (full fics!)

💫or perhaps you want something shorter to read? (drabbles and mini series like smitten!)

🌟or something even shorter? (teeny tidbits!)

[dearestminyoongi]

To be natural – is a training exercise | 3 |

‣ summary: As a result of the recent dating rumours spreading around, you are forced by your agency to resort to a very popular practice among idols: adopting a hybrid to draw the attention of your fans to the adorableness of your new platonic partner and not the scandal on the verge of breaking out. But it’s hard to get used to having a second shadow when you’re accustomed to being on your own, especially if your new companion is hell-bent on having all your attention directed at him. Constantly.

‣ pairing: Jimin x female reader

‣ genre: hybrid au; idol!reader; fluff; hurt/comfort; slice of life; sassy!reader

‣ word count: 14.5k

‣ chapters: 1 / 2 / 3

Notes: Hitomi is your idol/stage name! OKAY I’m very sorry, but the reader eats some things in this chapter which are animal derivatives, but! There are vegan options of those, so if you have some differences in your eating habits, you can pretend the food to be of your preferences. You also eat some vegetables, vegan meat and a Korean chicken soup. Also you drink coffee here. If you don’t in real life: think of it as decaffeinated, or as just orzo? I tried to keep it really vague. This is the only warning. Oh! Also: cuteness, hurt/comfort. Lastly: if you catch some mistakes, please notify me!

You’re mentally listing the things left to do in your morning routine, toothbrush dangling from your pursed lips while you’re applying the eyeliner when suddenly you remember you’re not alone in the flat.

To be more precise, your train of thought goes as follow:

Finish brushing my teeth (should buy new toothpaste)

Search for the new mascara and that berry blossom-scented hand cream

Air dry hair (no-one will berate me since today I’m not leaving the agency. It’s important that Jimin can get used to the place)

Change purse to match the outfit

And then there’s a sudden jolt in your sleepy brain when the image of your cat hybrid flash in your mind. You promptly choke on the toothpaste and swallow down some of it. You hurry to pull out your toothbrush and wash out your mouth, drinking the water straight from the tap.

When you raise your face your disgusted expression greets you in the mirror, along with a pretty, thick, black line that from the corner of your eye reach your temple. You don’t really have time to fix that, so you pick up your make-up remover and just decide to go bare-faced.

You don’t even spare a look at your hair and just return to your room, retrieve the handbag you used yesterday and rush out. How could you forget him? To be sure, you’ve grown used to be on your own, and you learned to appreciate your alone time, but after all that happened yesterday, especially that exchange right before you went to sleep–

You halt in front of Jimin’s door and put a stop to your thoughts. Right now you should focus on the important things and make sure he’s ready to come with you. Quite honestly you should’ve already integrated him into your morning routine, planning for his presence, now you fear you’ll be running late. Officially you need to be at the agency by 8 A.M., but you usually meet up with Lee beforehand to grab a quick breakfast together and catch up on the day’s agenda.

The wristwatch tells you it’s a quarter to seven. Could he be already up?

You raise your hand and knock gently against the door, calling his name in a voice that’s little more than a whisper. His sensitive ears should be able to pick that up, but you receive no answer. You try again only to get the same result. Shuffling a little on the spot, you wonder if he’s still asleep, if you should inch your way inside his bedroom and wake him up.

He’d be quite sleepy, you imagine. With his beautiful hazel eyes lidded and his pupils like pinpoints from the morning sunlight entering from the window, his squishy cheek pressed on the pillow, his fluffy ears hidden in his messy blonde hair. Maybe he’d try to burrow under the blankets, mumbling about just five minutes or maybe he’d smile languidly at you the moment he recognizes you, greeting you with a groggy voice. You wonder if he’ll still have that higher-pitched, melodious tone or if, perhaps, he’d have a lower, more rough timbre.

You’re itching to find out for yourself, heart speeding up at the prospect and after hesitating for a few seconds more, your hand grips the door handle. You have opened it just a couple of inches when suddenly in the still, windowless hallway, you feel a gust of air brush against your nape, whispering delicately near your ears. Then a touch against your damp hair, something resembling a nudge, and a puff of air warm the back of your neck.

You freeze on the spot, fighting a shiver. There is most definitely someone behind you; someone who is… smelling you?

You can almost feel him humming when he asks you: “Were you searching for me?”

Almost in auto-pilot, you close the door in front of you, then spin yourself and lean your back against it. And here, in front of you, stands Jimin in all his glory. He’s already dressed in a pair of tracksuit black pants and a white t-shirt, feet clad in soft socks. His hair is brushed neatly, covering his forehead, and his ears are tilted up in mild interest. He’s watching over you with a slight smile on his plump rose lips, and the longer you look at him the more it seems to want to bloom in a full-fledged grin.

He doesn’t look sleepy at all. You don’t have time to suppress the stupid, nonsensical sense of disappointment that rise in you, never mind pretending to have the presence of mind to formulate an answer or even a greeting, before he’s leaning towards you.

Even if there’s still much space between you two, your breath hitch and you almost choke – for the second time that morning – on your spit. You swallow and you swear his eyes follow the movement. But then Jimin’s gaze locks with yours and he keeps you pinned down under his laser-focused attention.

His soft lips open delectably – your eyes almost flicker down to watch them, but you barely resist – and he asks you: “Did you have sweet dreams?”

Usually, you’re quite proud of your composure, the way you can withstand the worst interactions and malicious comments with a straight poker face, sometimes even a polite fake smile if the occasion calls for it. However, you are not accustomed to being subjected to such a devastating attack so early in the morning, in what should be your safe space, where you let down your guard and relax.

You feel yourself getting hot in the face and you hope that he’ll somehow miss the blush colouring your cheeks, while you ponder the apparent fact that Jimin is going to be the mean of your end, one way or another. What a way to go, mumbling half phrases and unable to maintain his gaze.

Your head is filled with the clear memories of the night before, of the text he sent you and the answer you gave him; in the spaces between those recollections sits the strong impression and vague reminiscence of the sweet dreams you indeed had.

They were filled with sunlight, a lot of greenery and you were surrounded by soft and almost impalpable fabric which hugged you tight. Your fingers were playing with the stems of some flowers and you were trying to work on a crown made of bright yellow buttercups, but something resting in your lap kept snagging your attention with its cute gestures. It had fluffy ears, blonde hair, lidded hazel eyes–

You clear your throat, before asking him: “Were you just sniffing me?”

While it’s the most unsubtle change of topic you ever saw, it does its trick: Jimin blinks once, before opening his eyes wide in a bewildered expression and he straightens up at once. You didn’t even notice he was inching closer to you until he did that.

Now he’s the one to blush. And he’s either a fast learner or just better at making an exit, but he inform you in a dismissing tone that he ‘started on breakfast; c’mon let’s go before it burns’, then he turns around, tail swishing agitatedly behind him and hurries down the hallway towards the kitchen, without waiting for you.

You make use of those spare seconds where you’re alone to regroup and calm yourself a little bit. There’s no reason for him to try and bring up the topic during the rest of the day, not if he wants to avoid being questioned about his behaviour. Which is in all probability completely normal by hybrid standards, since they are so susceptible to smells and whatnot. Still, you’re going to exploit that slight weakness to the best of your ability, because you do not want to feel so caught off guard again.

When you enter the open kitchen Jimin is in front of the stove, turning a golden omelette in the pan, with the table already set for you two. In fact, you can see he has already placed a poached egg on each of your plates, alongside– yeah, those are scrambled eggs and kale.

“Uh,” you utter, because the possibility that Jimin is only able to cook variations of eggs is not something you took into consideration.

His ears twitch and he spares you a look from behind his shoulder, smiling bashfully at your perplexed face.

“Your fridge is really empty,” he informs you lightly. “And the expiration date of those eggs were today, so I thought we could do a breakfast made of only those and kale. Is that okay?”

“Of course! You thought right, let’s not waste them,” you hurry to say, walking to the fridge to see if there is something to drink that isn’t energy drinks. The desolation inside squash your hopes, and you start to feel bad: not only he prepared breakfast for the two of you while you were busy forgetting he existed, but he did so when his options were so limited it was bound to be frustrating to conjure up anything. You close the fridge’s door and go to your coffee machine, only to see there is already a smoking cup sitting there, ready to be drunk.

Jimin brushes close to you when he goes to place the omelettes on your plates. He glances at the hot drink you took in your hands.

“That’s yours,” he tells you. “I tried to do it the same way you took it at lunch yesterday, while we were at the mall. I don’t know if I succeeded, though.”

“No, that’s… It’s perfect, thank you so much Jiminie,” you answer.

You feel kind of choked up, which is absolutely stupid and inevitable when you have such a sweet, caring, darling person who tries to accommodate you, even when it’s not their job nor their responsibility to do so. It’s been a while, since the last time someone took care of you in any form without it being related to their line of work…

Jimin laughs at you, even if he’s blushing again at the use of his nickname. He sits down at the table and watches with lidded eyes and a grin as you round it to sit in your place.

“You don’t know that, yet,” he points out. “You haven’t even tried it!”

So you bring the cup to your lips, blow air on it for a couple of seconds and take a sip. The rich flavour washes over your taste buds, warming your tongue. While the capsules you have are definitely not like the ones from your favourite café, it’s strong and delicious. You think that you wouldn’t mind switching your routine and stop going out for breakfast every morning, not when the alternative presents you with an eager and considerate hybrid sitting in front of you, watching your every move to see if you like what he did for you.

You hum, delighted. “It is good,” you reaffirm to him, before drinking again.

He smiles back, before taking his fork and gesturing to you to try out his food, too.

And you have to admit that, even if he indeed was only able to cook variations of eggs, at least he was great at doing so. They were golden, crisp and seasoned just lightly; once in your mouth, they immediately melted in a delectable way.

You are lost in contemplation, trying to appreciate the first warm homemade meal that you ate in quite some months, when Jimin begins to talk.

“I’m glad you like them,” he says, his fluttering eyes averted from yours, while he shyly smiles at his plate. “I woke up early today because I was so excited and I just couldn’t wait for you to get up, too. It felt like an eternity, so I chose to busy myself in the meantime.”

You blink back, baffled. Early, he says. As if you don’t set your alarm to 6 A.M. sharp every day and are such a late riser.

He seems to read your expression from beneath his long lashes, and he giggles. “You know,” he begins, before flicking his ears and catching your attention with their movements. “Cat genes. Sometimes in the middle of the night, I wake up and I’m filled with a nervous energy so strong that it’s useless trying to go back to sleep. It’s better if I just do something to dispel all of that build up exuberance.”

Jimin has the zoomies, is the first thing you think. And then it’s a struggle moving on from that thought. You try to keep your face blank while he continues eating, none the wiser to the series of adorable images that are following each other in your head.

You clear your throat to focus back on your breakfast, inadvertently catching his eyes. “Won’t you be tired during the day, then?”

“Oh, yes,” he answers, shrugging his shoulders. “I usually take several naps in the afternoon and late evening.”

You wish you could do that, too. But on a more serious note– You try not to frown and for a couple of minutes, you limit yourself to eat the kale and the scrambled eggs. It’s when you’re almost done with your meal and you’re sipping the remaining coffee, that you point out the thing that had you preoccupied.

“I wonder… would you rather stay here, today? So you can rest, since you slept so little.”

Immediately Jimin looks on high alert, with his eyes opened wide and ears straight upon his head. He’s so agitated that his nervous tail hits one of your legs under the table; he doesn’t even seem to notice, as focused as he is on what you just said.

You can’t imagine why he seems so caught off guard. Of course, you’d rather he went with you so you could, for starter, get to know him more; then you’d feel better knowing he’s not alone in your messy apartment free to discover the complete state of disarray it verses on and, lastly, you’re pretty sure it is expected of you to take him with you so that he could get used to the agency and your job.

However, this is his first day out of the shelter, he admitted he’ll get quite tired and you don’t think he’ll have many opportunities to nap in another brand new place surrounded by strangers. That seems to matter very little because your consideration appears to have been regarded as a distasteful offer.

“No!” Jimin promptly denies your suggestion vehemently, while shaking his head at you. You swear the fur on his velvet ears is raised in alarm as well. “I’ll be alright, totally okay really, I’ll sleep once we get back and– and tonight probably I won’t be compelled to get up, so I’ll get used to your schedule just, uh, fine!”

Now you’re the one taken back by such a strong reaction, but you quickly shrug it off when you see your phone light up with a text message. A quick glance informs you that Lee is asking if you’re running late or if he should just wait for you at the building. Swiftly you write back ‘omw to agency w/ J’, before rising from your seat.

Seemingly on instinct, Jimin follows your lead. When he gets up he takes the dishes and puts everything in the sink, watching you with a light furrow between his brows while you check your appearance one last time on your pocket mirror.

You put it in your purse, then turn and smile at him. “Then let’s go, it’s time to start the day.”

His face relax in an easy grin, with soft rosy cheeks and gentle hazel eyes, all signs of preoccupation wiped away as if they never even existed. “Show me the way.”

It’s 7:45 in the morning when you get out of the company issued car in front of your agency. Jimin follows you with a picture-perfect expression of curiosity colouring his face, brushing against your side when he starts to walk with you towards the entrance. You can already see Jeong-hoon through the glass doors, curved on his phone by Jin-eu and you certainly can spot the way his lips are downturned, the distinct two lines on his forehead that appear every time he’s holding back some kind of negative emotion.

You conceal your sigh.

In a matter of seconds, you have passed through the entrance and are headed towards the receptionist, who is already scanning Jimin up and down. Fortunately, there aren’t many people around, and those present are all busy doing their job, so he isn’t on the receiving end of too many double backs. But he seems to catch on to her curiosity and he stops looking around, marvelling at each new aspect he finds interesting, to look back at her with a more guarded expression.

Jin-eu simply smiles at him, before greeting you by your name, thereby snatching Lee’s attention, who hurries to send one last text before raising his head up. While he straightens his suit’s jacket and fidgets with his cufflinks, as if he could ever be caught dead in any kind of unkept, it becomes blatantly obvious that he had already contrived a plan of action for today and that he had sought a helping hand to facilitate everything.

In fact, Ms Yi doesn’t waste any time before she turns her pretty black eyes on the only hybrid present. “Hello, you must be Park Jimin,” she deduces, before pointing at her own nametag in lieu of introducing herself. “I’m sure you’re aware that, as the companion of Hitomi, it’s quite expected of you to tag along in most of her endeavours.” She barely waits for his nod of confirmation before proceeding, a polite smile firm on her ruby red lips. “For you to be able to do this you’ll need to have your own badge, so anyone will be able to identify you and there won’t be any unfortunate mistakes. Since we have already taken the liberty to fabricate everything you’ll need with the information we were provided, we only need your approval and your signature on a couple of documents.”

On her organized desk appears the items she hinted at and in the next blink Jimin is holding a pen in his hand and he’s looking over the written words presented in front of him, a slightly bewildered look upon his face. He doesn’t seem too bothered, however, because his ears are relaxed back and his tail is flicking just a tiny bit.

When you turn around, manager Lee is pointedly trying to send you a hint by making eyes at his own phone and then at you. You retrieve your own device just to see he indeed texted you. It must have been the last message he sent, too, because in his hurry he butchered some words.

i distracr Jimin you ned to talk to mangment, it reads.

You raise an eyebrow at that, sending the most deadpan expression you can manage before you answer him: I’ll talk to mangment, but stop being inconsiderate and don’t overwhelm him.

He doesn’t read it, but you know he can be a sneaky one when he wants, and he’ll do it without being discovered as soon as possible. In the meantime, he looks appeased, probably guessing you’ll do your job anyway. You try to be likewise pleased, knowing he’ll heed your words and treat the hybrid nicely enough, but still, it’s unlikely you’ll see him for the rest of the day and it’s hard being gratified with that knowledge.

In your line of work, there’s seldom a break and there aren’t many parts where your input is taken into consideration, and since the idea of adopting had been brought up by the PR’s director and the order was issued directly by the CEO, you suspect that all the important people already know of the new addition. Whether he likes it or not, your hybrid has just been dragged in this world and you doubt they’ll ever let him go.

Jin-eu’s voice puts a momentary end to your mopey thoughts: “Perfect! Please remember to keep the badge on your person every time you come here, because even if people will soon start to recognize you as Hitomi’s partner, you’ll still need it to access some upper-level sections that are otherwise restricted to lower-ranked personnel.”

“Yes, thank you,” says Jimin, with a little secretive smile on his full lips and a light blush colouring his cheeks. Now that, is something to wonder at. What could Ms Yi have possibly said to make him react to that? Did you miss something important?

That idea unsettles you, and you immediately try to stop your abnormal and useless fretting. For once someone is there to help with that.

“Mr Park,” begins cordially the man at your side. When the hybrid turns to look at him, he extends his palm and you watch them shake hands. “I’m H’s manager, my name is Lee Jeong-hoon. In case you’re in need of anything or have any worries that need to be assuaged, please know I’m here to assist you to the best of my ability. If you’re not sure how to do something or are uncertain of one particular aspect or another I’ll be glad to help you whatever you’re struggling with, as well.”

“Nice to meet you,” says Jimin. Then, looking a little awkward for being put on the spot, he sends you a rapid glance, before blurting out: “I have your number on my phone.”

Silence wrap all of you in its suffocating embrace for a couple of moments.

“Ah,” answers Jeong-hoon genially, before giving a single nod. “Good.”

Then Ms Yi helpfully interjects: “Mr Lee, since you’re such an accomodating manager, could you give Mr Park a tour in my stead? I’m afraid I don’t have much time to spare, certainly not enough for giving justice to every floor and you’ll be the most adept to answer any questions regarding Hitomi.”

You wonder if your dear friend deliberately asked the receptionist to kiss his ass as much as she could, or if she’s always been so good at offering platitudes. For a moment you even contemplate the chance that she’s coating her every word in irony before she turns to you. While you have only exchanged greetings and little else with her, Jin-eu regards you with a kind expression that appears completely genuine, as far as you can ascertain.

“I was instructed to inform you that the director of management is expecting you in his office. The meeting with the marketing team that was cancelled yesterday has been rescheduled to start in half an hour in CONF_303,” she informs you. “I’m sure Mr Lee will have finished by then and he’ll bring you back Mr Park along with the rest of your timetable. Have a nice day, all of you.”

That said Jin-eu turns her attention back on her tasks, and starts typing furiously on the keyboard as if engaged in a personal vendetta against whichever thing has her now preoccupied. Taking her plain dismissal for the clue that is, Jeong-hoon doesn’t waste any time before taking back the reins.

He claps his hands together a single time. “Well,” he starts. “Looks like we all have our things to do before meeting up again.”

You imagine that Lee is expecting everything to go smoothly from that moment, but it appears Jimin has another idea. He almost scrambles to be by your side, eyes wide open and pleading. Not only it seems like he’s beseeching your approval, but it’s as if in his frenzy he forgets he’s in a public place. In a matter of seconds, you find yourself plastered to a hybrid, all his firm muscles and soft curves pressed against you, his head pushed firmly to yours, and you're left immobilized and staring straight ahead of you.

Jeong-hoon brows furrow and even Ms Yi raises her head from her work the time necessary for arching one of her slim, perfectly plucked eyebrows. You silently share their bewilderment.

“Wha–”, you start, forcing yourself to not struggle away from the sudden embrace. Like a prey frozen in front of apparent danger, contemplating the chance to dash off, you know rationally that it’d be best for you to remain still, but you’re itching to race away. Surely there must be a reason why he’s acting like that and putting distance between you two seems like the thing he’d hate you to do most. You try to focus on that thought instead of your agitation.

“I told you yesterday,” Jimin interrupts you, with a barely-there voice. You don’t think he’s deliberately trying to conceal what he’s saying to you from the others, it looks more like he’s currently unable to reaffirm himself. “I told you I would follow you all day long. That I looked forward to it. I… I don’t want to leave.”

“Ah,” you muster, patting the arm around your waist in a vague attempt to supply comfort. “But you won’t leave the building, I’ll be there–”

“No,” he cuts in, again. He pushes his head even firmer against your hair, strengthening his hold on you. “I don’t want to leave you.”

You raise your eyes to the ceiling, either asking for divine intervention or trying to catch a glimpse of his face, you’re not sure. Your beating heart definitely didn’t skip a beat and you’re not flustered. Not at all. When you lower your gaze you catch your manager’s, and you try to compose yourself to at least give the semblance that you know what to do in this circumstance.

“Jimin,” you say, your voice on the point of being suffocated, trying to remain lax in his hold.

You should be able to find comfort in it, but you aren’t used to… to that. Nowadays if you hug someone it's an event that's over in a matter of seconds, blinks of time that flow by you before you could register the feel of it. But he holds you steadfast, and he’s warm and solid, no figment of your imagination. He’s strong – you can feel it in the way his arms are tensed around you, the sinewy energy hiding just under your fingertips – and he’s also so deliberate in the way he pulls you against him: he secures you to him, but in doing so he remains careful, not putting any pressure around your ribs.

It should be nice.

In the dream you definitely didn’t dream last night, it was nice.

And yet you have to suppress the want to fidget, to slip away and put distance between you. So that you can catch your breath and refocus. You, who have spent almost a decade painstakingly training your body to move each of your muscles as you desire, that has worked to have efficient control of every part of yourself, feel lost. You don’t know what to do with yourself and it’s a struggle to even think. In a queer, unfathomable way, it seems like you’re an outside force looking on the scene, with no power to alter anything, just a spectator of your own life. While you don’t want to hurt his feelings, while you want to address his worries and reassure him that there’s no reason for him to panic, all you can concentrate on is how long is he going to hold you for, what you should do, what everyone around you is thinking about that. How to put an end to it.

You don’t say anything else, but he seems to catch up. In a gesture that appears reluctant, he lowers his arms, passing his nose near your ear in a last nuzzle, before taking a step back.

Breathing in and out, internally counting to calm yourself, you turn to look at him. He looks deflated, his fluffy ears trying to hide between his blonde locks, his eyes downturned. Even his tail is mostly still and gives a sudden, rapid flick when his gaze meets yours. You don’t know him as well as you wish, so you can’t be sure what emotions are turbinating behind his eyes, but you could swear he somehow perceived your unease.

“Jimin,” you start again, before clearing your throat when you notice your voice still sound a little bit smothered. His ears raise up in attention. “Let me show you the map of the building, for starters. So you’ll know where you’re more likely to find me if you’re searching for me.”

Lee reads the room easily and nods. “Yeah, good idea. I’ll double-check that the paperwork is in order, just give me five minutes.”

You barely register what he told you, taking Jimin by his hand and gently leading him towards the nearest floors plan, hoping that the few meters distancing you from the reception desk will lend you a little privacy.

While you walk there you can feel his grip around your hand tightening, his tail brushing against your side. You can also hear Ms Yi asks Lee if he truly has so little faith in her and her competence that he feels the need to check her every move, and his amused voice is clear when he quips back that while he’s sure she is a wonderful, hardworking receptionist, maybe the heavy workload could bring her to make some mistakes. And he just doesn’t want her to embarrass herself, isn’t he such a sweet and attentive person?

Vaguely you wonder to yourself if they are actually closer than what you were brought to believe at first glance, or if they are just exceptional in faking cluelessness; maybe their ability to avoid awkward situations is mandatory for their job positions.

Once in front of the building’s plan, you halt, and Jimin comes to your side, taking care to hold a slight distance between you two that has never been there before. You keep ahold of his hand, brushing your thumb back and forth in a vain attempt to reassure yourself him, but you remain facing forward.

“This is where my personal office is allocated,” you begin, pointing it out easily with your free hand. Then you show him where you usually go to practice, where the communal canteen is, where is your studio. You do so almost automatically, taking your time to ponder how to approach the topic you truly want to discuss with him.

When you start to run out of places, you take all your courage and start: “I would like for you to be near me during most of my workday and to make this possible you need to know where everything is, where you can go without being questioned and where it’d be better for you not to follow me. I don’t think they’ll like you very much, my superiors I mean, if you were to accompany me during important meetings where all my concentration is required. If you were there I would have to resist talking to you, and frankly that sounds like a very difficult thing to ask of me. Allow me to be selfish and ask something difficult out of you: please don’t tempt me with a good time.”

This pries a tentative giggle out of him, and you are run over by a powerful wave of satisfaction and relief, feeling as if you can return to breath more freely. In your renewed confidence, you find the nerve to tug him towards you; he easily follows your lead and you bump his shoulder with yours. You never relinquish your hold of his hand, finding the way his palm press against yours reassuring.

“We’ll be there five days per week, for most of the time, this will be your second home in all but feeling and fact, so it’ll make me feel so much better if you were able to move around, never running the risk of getting lost and being in need of help.” And then, looking at the way he starts to frown, you hurry to add something a little cheeky. “Far from being the only idol present, I can certainly image you running in someone prettier and kinder, who will be there to rescue you and catch all your affection, and then what will I do? You’ll ask to leave, and I’ll have to get back to a very empty apartment, all by myself, surrounded exclusively by the chaos I’ve made with no motivation to clean it, with no one to share my meals with.”

Jimin’s airy, Tinkerbell-like laugh rings out before you’ve finished talking but even so, he’s already shaking his head at the depressing scene you painted for him.

“No,” he denies between breaths. “I would never run off with the first person who is nice to me.”

You hold your tongue, not wanting to point out the obvious – because he had run off with you, hadn’t he? - and instead, you conspiratorially smile back at him: “Ah, I see, you won’t follow the first, but there’s no telling with the second or the third who will help you out in your moment of need.”

Jimin vehemently protests against that notion, but you dramatically sigh and continue: “There’s no helping it, with such a sweet hybrid like you I’m going to have to ward off many people, but surely you can try to ease my fears and learn to move in this place so as to not get lost?”

You know you are not fooling him, and this isn’t your intent, but the back and forth seems to have relaxed him enough that, if not ecstatic, at the very least he looks resigned to get it over with.

You take care not to mention the reason behind your previous discomfort, not wanting to shift the scrutiny on you.

And how would you have explained it away, besides?

You couldn’t come out and declare: ‘Ehy, it’s totally fine. It’s not you, I mean it. It’s just that I’m so touch-starved that continued exposure to intimacy easily overwhelms me.’

Because that sounded absolutely normal, and not a bit much to unload on the second day of your acquaintance with someone. You would at least let the first week pass, before trying to talk to him about your fucked-up boundaries or whatnot. If you could get away with it, you wouldn’t talk of it, full stop. Sadly, that wasn’t an option, because you were a responsible adult that didn’t shy away from displeasing talks.

Ugh.

Talking about being adults… You spy Jimin’s ears raise up in alert from the corner of your eye, and soon enough Jeong-hoon is clearing his throat from behind you. He must have checked his watch and concluded you had enough time to talk it out.

When you turn around he smiles, but you can see that he’s starting to fret, and while you usually would agree that making any director wait was something you should strive to avoid, this time you think you had a valid reason for your potential tardiness.

“Jiminssi, are you ready?” He asks anyway, even if it’s evident that he expects to hear only one answer and he won’t accept any other. The hybrid spares a quick glance your way, as if to gather all the assuredness he can, then he gives a quick nod and when Lee starts to walk, he follows him.

You have to let go of his hand and all the time – while you’re watching his figure disappears in an elevator, while you take your own lift to go to the director’s office, and even while you are knocking at the mahogany door once there – you have to flex your fingers, to try to get rid of your nervous energy.

You already miss his palm against yours, the way his fingers perfectly fits in the empty spaces, so perhaps you’ll have to find out why you like his touch so much and rationalize it, before telling him that you do your best to avoid all superficial contacts. Maybe… maybe he could eventually be your only exception.

It became apparent that separating from Jimin had been a good decision when, five minutes in your private consultation with the management’s director, it turned out he doesn’t have any patience or consideration for the feelings of other people, nevermind hybrids’.

If it makes you uncomfortable hearing strangers speak of Jimin as an asset and being listed the myriad of ways the company can work him to benefit them, you can’t imagine how that would affect him.

That conversation and the subsequent meeting with the marketing team couldn’t have been over sooner and even if just an hour went by, you felt as if they had leeched out all the energy you had in store for the day. To be completely sure you are going to be dead tired by the time lunch rolls around, your considerate manager informs you through text that your schedule of the day sees the regular three hours of training placed immediately after.

You’re only half an hour in, when Jimin reappears, looking the part and acting as a mirage; you certainly feel like a desperate lost soul in search of a reprieve.

You have just completed your extensive warm-up, already in need of a break and utterly dishevelled, when you see the door of the practice room inch open. You watch through the mirrors lining up the wall the way his ears peek inside, soon followed by the rest of the head. He’s got a tentative smile and a somewhat circumspect expression about him, as if doubting his welcome.

“Hi,” he greets you when he meets your reflected gaze.

“Hi,” you call back, with a decidedly breathier tone, combing back the astray hair that escaped your scrunchie to achieve a semblance of order.

He takes that as his permission to walk inside. Once in he checks his surroundings, probably categorizing away all the oh so interesting particularities of the bare, empty and generic room. Usually, there are more people utilizing the same place, working side by side, but currently, you are the only one that is preparing herself for a tour, and most know you like being on your own when you need to concentrate, so it’s just you two.

Like when we came back home yesterday, you think unhelpfully to yourself, while you’re sipping your Gatorade. Quick as lightning, your mind replays the way he brushed his lips against your wrist, the intense expression on his face when he told you to dream of him, the erratic beating of your heart. How he made you feel alive, present, living the moment to the fullest, even if that moment lasted only a few seconds.

So, anyway, you end up sputtering out some of what you were drinking. Yeah, not your brightest moment, but at least he doesn’t witness it, since he’s checking out the playlist on your phone. The speakers let out a catchy pop song, and you’re somewhat surprised when you see him humming the harmonies to himself.

“I recognize some of these, I think,” he tells you promptly, scrolling through them while you covertly try to regain your breath without coughing up your lungs. “Are any of them yours? I’m sorry,” he bashfully sends you a rapid glance, just as you’re placing down your bottle, his tail flicking nervously behind him, and you force yourself to focus on what he’s saying. “I know more about classical music, and it’s been a while since I’ve listened to anything modern so I’m out of the loop. I don’t even know much of what’s it like, being an idol. I promise I’ll listen to what you put out.”

“Oh,” you say, surprised he even thought that was a topic which he should have done his homework on and therefore that any apology was in order. As if he was lacking on that front. “Don’t worry, yes it’s my job, but you don’t have to know everything I’ve ever done in my career to show your support. As for your question, uhm–” you halt, thinking back.

You don’t really pay much attention to what is in the background when you are just doing basic training, as it’s the case today, and not working to get down a choreography.

“Probably,” you start tentatively, “there are some that are mine…?”

Jimin raises an eyebrow at your unconvinced tone and unsure expression. Fair enough.

You shrug at him: “This is just for me to build back my stamina and get back to the best shape possible. We’re preparing for a comeback, so it’s imperative that I’m at the top of my form when it’s time to face the upcoming tours, even if they’re two months from now and we haven’t released the single yet, nevermind the album. And the dance instructor and choreographers are still working on the moves, as well.”

His vacant eyes make you wonder if he actually caught anything that you told him, or if he’s in the middle of processing it. You awkwardly move to silence the alarm when it rings out, signalling the end of your five minutes break. You raise back the volume and when you get back to look at him, he is again with his feet down to earth.

“Since I’ve got no plan to go anywhere else, can I watch you while you train? Maybe you can answer some of my curiosities while you’re at it,” he asks you.

“Oh, sure,” you rush out while taking position in front of the mirror. This isn’t to be vain, because there is little worth being checked out when you are sweating like a pig, but more so to look over your form and be sure you are doing your exercises the correct way. “I don’t know how much I’ll be able to actually speak. After this one hour session, I’ll have to go to the gym to finish everything off.”

“Mmh,” he ponders out loud, stretching leisurely directly on your right so that you can look at him both through the mirror and the corner of your eye. “Sounds tiring. Maybe I’ll take a nap while I’m waiting for you to be done with it.”

You raise your head from the floor where you are already cursing the seemingly infinite series of situps you have to do, and yes, Jimin’s looking at you with an impertinent grin decorating his face. You huff, before putting down your head again. You stare at the white ceiling before you, counting the reps, a sleepy hybrid by your side that’s already started with his purring, and wonder how your life has come to that.

Two hours and almost a half later, you’re almost done with your morning schedule and, unsurprisingly, your life as well. The gruelling time you spent working on your body has been rendered even more brutal by the fact you haven’t put in any serious work since your last comeback, nearly nine months ago.

If this wasn’t enough, Jimin’s presence was a hard test all by itself. Being an idol means getting used to the spotlight and owning the stage, but somehow it was a different story with him and even if he shouldn’t have put you off so much, he truly unnerved you. Not only you were extremely conscious of every loud grunt and relieved sigh you let out, all this without even counting your messy appearance, but his intense, laser-focused eyes made you feel self-conscious even when all you were doing was drinking your stupid Gatorade.

Under his watchful look you had to wipe off, multiple times, all the dribbled liquid you managed to get on your chin and throat. It got so embarrassing even Jimin averted his gaze and pretended to be busy cleaning his nails, and you appreciated his effort, truly, but it was quite apparent he felt some kind of second-hand embarrassment by the blush that coloured his cheeks.

‘Any deity available that feel up to it, please hurry to rescue me. Or end me,’ had become your cheerful mantra.

While you can’t ascertain for sure the existence of a God, you believe there are some small mercies in this world. One of those is the fact that, right now, you’re the only ones surrounded by the gym equipment. There were a gaggle of other people before, but they mostly kept to their activities, drenching their curiosity with only sporadic, quick glances towards the hybrid always laying on the nearest bench to you. Now, finally finished with all your cardio, you’re ready to just go to eat.

Heeding your growling stomach, you send a quick text to Lee, asking him to retrieve a couple meals. There’s no way you’ll go to the communal cafeteria without showering first, but there’s also little chance you won’t just faint if you catch a quick one before eating something.

You immediately get down to stretch, gladly welcoming the way your muscles are loosening up, feeling the sweat you worked up beginning to cool off.

It’s ten minutes in and you’ve just stabilized your breathing, you’re sitting down, futilely struggling during one of those stupid exercises where you have to touch your toes and feeling like if you stretch some more your spine is going to break, when Jimin wakes up from his nap and immediately chooses violence.

Like the naive little fool you are, you don’t even notice his approach, and your fate is inevitable.

You have just straightened up a little, to catch the momentum and use it to rapidly get down and try to go beyond your ankles, when a wall encompasses you from behind. A sharp intake of breath and the next moment you find yourself curved over your extended legs, fingers well over your toes, folded like a pretzel and with an unmoving weight pushing you down.

The first thing you notice, truth be told, is the burning muscles screaming for being forced to go well over the usual breaking point, so for the first few moments, you’re a little busy internally cursing up a storm.

But then, all the other senses get their moment to shine and, little by little, in a painful gradual way, you become distinctly conscious of him.

Jimin’s chest is pushed against you, de facto acting as a wall of muscles against which you have no chance to resist; Jimin’s arms surround you, cocooning you in their circles; Jimin’s light hair and Jimin’s warm breath are brushing against your face, one moment touching your nape and the next one against one of your cheek; Jimin’s muscular thighs are folded over, pressing against your sides and encapsulating you in a little place: underneath you the floor and your own trembling legs, all around you– him.

Botton line: Jimin is sprawled on your back.

You have just come to terms with that fact (that’s a lie, you’ll be thinking about this specific moment for the next few months, wondering if that truly happened to you and being devastated by the fact that it must indeed have happened) when he lets up and like a spring that was restrained, you bounce back, sitting up as if electrified.

“Careful,” he giggles from what seems a mile away, so loud your heartbeat is resounding to your own ears. “You almost caught my nose there.”

“Nice,” you sputter out, frazzled. “I almost caught a heart attack over here.”

His laugh rings out, but your concentration is broken, your composure vanished, your self-awareness is on an all-time high. Your own skin itches, as if your body is an ill-fitted suit, rubbing your exposed nerves and scratching uncomfortably against that nagging feeling inside you, snagging on it, catching on that uneasiness which never leaves, ready to raise up like goosebumps every time you're touched, that makes you feel so wrong. You’re left feeling like a misplaced object who mistakenly found itself inside a person, somebody who is receiving tenderness while being painstakingly conscious that you are unworthy of it.

You wish you could’ve enjoyed it. You suddenly are frustrated and angry because here is your cheeky companion, your friendly hybrid, trying to get closer to you, seeking out the physical affection his instincts demand he finds to be assured of his place in the pack. A pack that is new, because you’ve just picked him up and placed him in an unknown territory, and therefore he’s in need of all the reassurance you can spare. You know that, you want to be able to withstand it, you are mostly sure you want the closeness as well and yet, you recoil.

Oh, this moment that lasted a half minute is going to live in your thoughts forever, because you’re going to think about it, yes. And you’re also going to dream of it. But that’s it. You’ll be left wanting, yearning for several other moments like that, longing for them and dreading their very own existences the second they’ll happen. You’ll wish for that eternal fraction of time resting in between the instant you’re taking in the love bestowed on you and the bit where you realize it’s all a mistake.

You stand up.

The stretching session is over.

Stop thinking, stop feeling. Focus on now. Now.

You’re fumbling with your bag, searching for a towel to wipe off the sweat beading your forehead. You did so before you started your cooling off routine, but now you’re again a shivering and overheated mess. As if you normally aren’t a disarray of–

But no, that isn’t the thing you should be thinking of.

You check your phone (Lee sent you a grumbling text, but he did manage to pick up your lunch), and your skin is prickled: you can feel Jimin’s eyes on you, the questions hovering behind his silence, the suspects you nurture that tell you he knows something is up, that he can feel it.

It’s okay, he’s too nice to press you, he’ll let you tell him everything when you’re ready. No, not when you’re ready, because you’ll postpone it forever… next week, that’s what you decided on. How will you even start? How can you explain something so– so stupid, really. You’re a baby, you seriously can’t even handle an extensive hug? But no. It’s not next week yet, now is now, so: stop thinking about it!

You let out a quivering sigh, and then you laugh it off.

“C’mon, Jimin. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving” you say, shouldering your bag, and sending him a smile. A beat passes, and he grins back at you. But his ears remain folded sideways, and the questions are still lingering behind his eyes.

However, he is nice, a dear really, so he gets up and comes to you without voicing them. You walk side to side to your office, and on the way, your nerves settle down enough for you to reach out and hold his hand. He squeezes it back immediately, so you see: it’s okay, nothing happened.

Plastic bags were ruffled open, box and little containers were taken out, wooden chopsticks got separated and soon you were both busy eating all that you could get your hands on, sipping from cold drinks directly from the can.

For a while in your little office were you, in truth, seldom remained for any considerable stretch of time, there were only the satisfied murmurs and hums of two people appreciating their hot meals.

However, after the initial ravenous hunger had been sated, you initiated the conversation.

“You know,” you began, while dabbing a thin napkin on your mouth. Jimin looked up from his bite, ears pointed up in attention, slitted eyes focusing on you. “I usually eat with other idols and singers in the canteen. But I must admit this is quite a nice change of pace: here you could actually hold a conversation with the person in front of you without shouting.”

The hybrid, sitting in the comfy, leatherbound office chair usually reserved for you, regaled you with an arched eyebrow and a quick, almost sly grin. “Then we could make it a habit. So I won’t have to share you.”

That said, he went to lay back, no doubt attempting to casually recline against his seat and look upon you with all the condescension he could manage, sure he left you scrambling to regroup your neurons to coordinate an answer. Sadly, he didn’t take into account your society’s needs to add luxury options wherever it could to make more money, and he wasn’t ready when the backseat reclined down with him, leaving him to be the one scrambling about.

A loud hiss resounded. You immediately hid your smile behind your hand, pretending to be chewing something. His tail all puffed out and eyes enlarged for the fright, he gripped the desk so tightly you were sure he’ll leave behind the imprint of his sharp nails.

You’re thankful for his misfortune, because you don’t have to contemplate why he’s so eager to have you all to himself. Still, for his sake, you pretend nothing happened, and continue on: “I don’t think manager Lee would much care for your proposition.”

It would be nice, of course. You don’t mind the others, checking in how it’s going, lamenting about minor things and occasionally bouncing off ideas on each other can be fun. But the lot of them are more out-going than you are, almost as if they were born to land on the pedestal they found themselves on; they’re there to engage everyone, to talk and to listen, always. So, cutting out a moment for just you, and of course Jimin, to relax a little without having to worry about keeping up any appearances sounds– delightful.

Your private office is quite secluded, made up of three solid walls which are supposedly soundproof (you never had the occasion to put that to the test since the loud action is exclusive to your studio) with a fourth made of glass, overlooking the city. Or, to say it like it actually is, presenting you with the thrilling view of all the other taller buildings surrounding you and the almost ever-present fog and smog, always ready to blur the landscape in an eery, dim illustration taken straight out of a gothic story.

If one were to act ostentatious, the interior could be described as minimalist. There’s the wooden desk, on one of its sides is the leatherbound chair where Jimin is currently fidgeting and absorbed in a thorough investigation with a suspicious look upon his face, two beige armchairs opposite. Some abstract paintings on the walls of artists you perhaps should know of, but struggle to recall, a mini-fridge that’s always empty because you’re never here, a pretty bookshelf half-empty with some classics and ornamental curiosities ready to attract a bored eye and all the dust they can. A plant in a corner that you suspect is fake, because during the last three years it went on remaining completely the same; a lush blue carpet in the middle of the room complete the desolate picture.

That’s it.

Excluding some personal knick-knacks undoubtedly lost in the drawers, you could leave this office tomorrow to someone else, and they wouldn’t need to get rid of anything before settling in.

You clear your throat. “Speaking of Jeong-hoon… this afternoon is going to be pretty boring, nothing out of the ordinary. I’ve got meetings after meetings before my appointment with the vocal coach. We’re still going to return home quite late, so I think if it’d be better to take advantage of the early afternoon to go grocery shopping so that we don’t end up like this morning.” You try for a smile, but he’s already frowning at you before you even finish your proposition. “Would you like to go accompanied by Lee?”

He doesn’t answer you. Verbally, at least. The glare he’s directing towards you speaks by itself, and it looks like he’s trying to intimidate you in a sudden change of heart.

“You can take everything you want,” you try to soften him up.

He doesn’t hesitate. “Ok, I want to take you with me.”

Aw, c’mon, Jimin, you silently lament to yourself at that. Don’t do that.

But it’s to no use, he’s already pouting. Pushing around the last scraps of his lunch with his chopsticks, almost glowering at it with downturned ears and slanted eyebrows, he makes for quite a pitiful vision.

It doesn’t last. He lets out what appears to be a long-suffering sigh and relents: “I was just joking.” You both know that’s a lie, so he goes on, and explain: “I’ll be fine with manager Lee. I just wanted to hear you sing, too.”

You reach over the desk, patting him amicably on his unoccupied hand. As you expected he immediately turns it around to hold yours, the gesture appears as a blur so fast are his reflexes.

“It won’t take much time,” you’re quick to reassure him. “You’ll be able to come back and listen to me, if that’s what you really wish.”

“That’s what I want,” Jimin nods decidedly.

“Of course,” you indulge him. “But, consider this: it will also be nice to do things on your own, so that whenever you have to come with me at the agency you won’t be confined to this building and to the inevitable boredom that will assault you. You can just go out, do whatever you want without having to wait for me all the time.”

He listens to what you tell him, just like he lent his ears this morning when you calmed him down in accepting your temporary separation. Still, it looks as if it’s a struggle, on his part, to accept his own independence, the fact he exists as a whole even, if not especially, when he’s detached from you.

“Even if you think it’s boring, it’s all new to me,” he says at last. “I like seeing you here, in your element, being confident and doing what you love to do. I don’t want to be anywhere else, when I’m here with you.”

He’s grown quite attached in an extremely short period, it is now too apparent to pretend he’s just the most affectionate person in the world you ever had the pleasure to meet. You don’t know if you’re exaggerating or projecting, but it feels as if he’s trying to desperately clutch at you, seeking all the attention you can provide, maybe even endeavouring to tempt you in a codependent pseudo-relationship. After all, if you start to wish for his affection, it’s less likely you’re going to give him back to the shelter. Not that you have the intention to do that, of course, but… it would explain everything, wouldn’t it? Why would he exert himself to cultivate a reciprocate fondness, nourishing it with constant vigilance and lovely touches, if not to gain something out of it?

It hurts to think like this of Jimin. But in your experience, no one gives out any form of love just for the sake of it. And you? Why would you ever deserve it?

“Don’t think I don’t want you here,” you start, trying to stop your harassing thoughts. “It’s just that… this is my job, yeah I love it most of the time, but it’s not easy or always exciting. And even if you’re really patient, well-mannered and sweet, I’m going to worry about you.” You stop to draw a breath and confide to him: “I’m going to be anxious, thinking: is he really doing okay? Does he wish to do something else? Is he going stir-crazy? It would put my mind at ease to know that if you want you can walk out and do other things.”

Jimin looks at you straight on, hazel eyes gradually vanishing while his pupils slowly expand, remaining stock-still. He seems still a little unsure, so you squeeze the hand still in his unyielding hold and add: “Then, at the end of the day, once we’re home, you can tell me all the things you did when I wasn’t around, and if you saw something you wanted to try out with me in our free time. You know, ideas for our quality time.”

He brightens at that. “And you would do it? You would accompany me?”

“Of course, if that’s what you want,” you answer, sounding like a broken record. Because: does he want you around? Or does he just needs you to like him enough to be free? And can you begrudge his possible facetiousness in face of the blatant fact that, in his eyes, it could very well decree his likelihood to attain more rights?

So it’s settled. And your accordance is sanctioned with your request to buy more cleaning products.

(“To be quite honest, I’m not even sure where the last ones I bought ended up.”

“Do you often misplace things?”

“I mean, I know they’re somewhere out there. If I really want to I can find everything. The problem is that I can’t be bothered, so yeah, I have lost things for months on end. But then they always turn up somewhere.”)

By then, you’ve gathered the trash, wondering where you’re going to stash it since your beautiful, unused office actually lacks a garbage can, of all things. You still have twenty or so minutes before you’ll have to hurry up and put yourself together, so maybe you’ll just find someplace to discard it safely on the way.

Jiminoffers no help to your dilemma, limiting himself to slow blinks. He’s clearly holding his head up only thanks to the support of his hand. He must be growing sleepy, but you watch him stubbornly fight against his lowering lids; he gives a little shake of his head and lets out an almost imperceptible growl anytime he catches himself on the point of headbutting the hardwood. It’s really endearing, so obviously your amusement lasts less than a Mayfly’s life. The moment you put the plastic bags filled with what remains of your meals on the ground and sit down again in one of the guest’s armchairs, he is at attention.

He gets up, fluidly, as if he never was two minutes away from drooling on your desk, and walks towards you. He stops from a moment in front of you, swishing tail cutting the air behind him, with his languid eyes fixed on yours.

Then he just plops on the left armrest, almost crumbling in your lap, stretching one of his arms behind the backseat, with the hand of the other searching for your palm. Afterwards, seemingly content to remain perched on the furniture in such an unlikely posture, he lands his head atop yours and let out a content sigh against your forehead.

You’re stuck there, flabbergasted, confused and quite possibly also a little tiny bit flustered.

Anticipating your questions, Jimin mutters: “Can’t trust the office chair for naps.”

“Ehm,” you intelligently answer him, before pointing out: “There is another unoccupied armchair identical to this one precisely beside us.”

“Mmh-mmh,” he murmurs, pushing his head even harder against yours. Now it seems he’s actively trying to headbutt you.

Since what you’ve just told him appears bereft of any interest in his eyes, you try another approach: “Also, I’m still sweaty and gross.”

Jimin crowd you even more at that, letting his nose trail against your temple and cheek, before nudging against your throat. He breaths evenly for a little while, but just when you start to ponder if he just fell asleep on you, he sighs on your skin, searing it hot with his breath and your blush.

“You don’t smell gross, trust me,” he assures you in a whisper.

After that, twenty minutes go by inexorably slow and breathlessly fast.

You are half an hour into your singing session, struggling to not get frustrated every time you have to restart, when in the corner of your eye you see the door hitch open and a fluffy tail appears.

Jimin sneaks into the adjourning room accompanied by manager Lee. While the hybrid wastes no time before sitting on the couch, eyes pointed at you through the glass, Jeong-hoon nods in your direction just once, places a couple of documents on the low-end table in front of the sofa and takes his leave.

You don’t have time to ogle Jimin for very long, for you devote all your concentration to the session. Kang Eunseo is a kind coach, but she wants her demands to be met: she likes to pretend you’re already recording when you sing with her, so she books the recording studio and goes back and forth between the live and control room. She is a professional through and through, focused in her craft and in continuing to better your voice; she doesn’t spare even a glance to the new visitor, and simply walks around him, instructing you.

Since you don’t wish to be reprimanded nor do you want to be a source of disappointment, you keep your focus until the end. And even if you’re conscious of his presence, somehow he doesn’t discompose you as he did when he was beside you in the gym.

It’s when the clock is signalling 7 P.M. and your workday is officially over, that Ms Kang points out at the hybrid with her head and gives a chuckle.

Jimin is leaning against the couch’s arm, head tilted back and eyes closed. His lips are barely open, like a flower bud about to bloom, and even his tail, curled on his lap, is still. You turn off the lights in the live room, closing the door behind you; once you reach him you start to hear his low purrs.

Eunseo dons her jacket and shakes her long ponytail free from her backpack straps, then she bids you farewell with a silent wave and a slight smile. She tries to leave inconspicuously, but you both know how heavy is the door of the recording studio, and the noises are inevitable: even still, his ears don’t twitch when the coach takes her leave.

That must be a good nap, you think. You know you’re smiling, and you also know there’s no use to hold it back.

You sit beside him and for a while, you two remain there. How does Jimin look early in the morning, swaddled in his soft blankets, with the rising sun shining on his golden locks is still something you could only imagine. But now, even if it’s under the cold lights of a windowless room, even if he must be hardly comfortable with his head pushed so far back, he still paints such a pretty picture. He’s even smiling in his sleep, making you itch to know what his dreams consist of.

He’s irresistible, and you know you aren’t doing yourself any favours by staying there, watching him enraptured, looking and acting like a creep. But you don’t have the strength to wake him up.

You have finished with your day, yes, and usually that meant a mad dash to go back home, to bask in the sweet loneliness of an empty place, to decompress and breath more easily. Just to start all over again. It’s uncharacteristic of you, this wish to remain longer. You send a text to your assigned driver, telling him not to wait for you.

Feeling awkward and not wanting to make Jimin uncomfortable, you divert your eyes and, by chance, you glance at the documents Lee left behind. Glad of the distraction, you lean over to take them in your hands, and those soon sober up any giddiness you were experiencing.

It seems he’s already done his homework: here is the paperwork you’ll have to bring to the city hall to formalize what you’ve done yesterday. There’s a printed copy of the Acquisition of Hybrid lease you signed, other two forms – already filled in, because of course, Jeong-hoon won’t leave anything up to chance – full of “I, the undersigned” and things you’ll have to accept so that, once you’ll give them Jimin’s temporary documents, they’ll hand you back the Certificate of Adoption. And on his ID there’ll be written your name, too, under the label of ‘Guardian’.

There’s also a yellow sticky note, that reads: “You have a work permit for Friday, starting 2 P.M.”

So here you have it, the day in question. You won’t be able to turn back from that, it’ll be truly official. His future will depend on you, on what you’ll do to help him achieve what he set his eyes on and on how you’ll help him navigate this troublesome world.

You return to look at him, admiring his soft features and lean figure, for a couple more minutes. Sighing, you get up to put the documents in your discarded purse. There’s no use remaining here, keeping watch over him, stressing over the inevitable. You know you’re going to be a nerve-wracking mess the day of, but you’ll gladly spare yourself the anxiousness, for now.

Luckily, you have an idea to distract yourself. Jimin and Lee must have done their grocery shopping as well, and they must have stored everything in your private office, downstairs. Sparing a last glance at the snoozing hybrid, you leave the recording studio.

As you suspected yesterday, you aren’t much of a cook. After retrieving the ingredients that looked like they would withstand better your mistreatment, you made use of the communal kitchen reserved for the higher-ups. There, sure of the privacy, you required and with nothing else to lose but your dignity, you got to work.

Currently, you’re in front of the recording studio’s door, facing a struggle. See, you’ve been good: you’ve put your pan-fried vegetables on two plates with a couple of vegan hamburgers, then got them on a plastic tray together with the two bowls of Korean chicken soup and two closed bottles of water. Your taste tests while you cooked everything told you the food was edible, so you took a fortifying breath and decided to face Jimin’s judgment.

You managed to take the elevator, not even you are quite sure how, but the heavy door you’re currently braving is another matter altogether. A saviour comes to rescue you unexpectedly when someone opens it on the other side.

“Oh, thank you, Jimin,” you empathetically burst, ready to enter and place the heavy tray on the low-end table in front of the couch. What you didn’t expect was his reaction.

“You’re here!” He exclaims back to you, sounding surprised and relieved at the same time. His ears are pushed down against his head and his tail is all puffed up, as it was yesterday when he unexpectedly found those fans with you, in the shop.

He looks eager, as if he’s a moment away from jumping on you, but even in his confusion and panic, he still manages to notice you’re struggling, and comes to your help. Jimin takes the tray from your hands, hurrying inside to put it down, all the while continuing to turn his head back to look at you, as if to check your presence.

You follow him inside, closing the door, wondering why your hybrid – with eyes still crusted with sleep and a veritable, adorable bedhead – is more agitated than a mother of four kids, who has risen late and has little time to waste.

“You fell asleep, so I went to prepare us dinner after I was done with the training,” you hear yourself say, trying to justify your absence. You tentatively sit on the couch.

“Yes, yes of course,” he answers promptly, but he appears mollified by your explanation, and he immediately relaxes once he takes his place beside you.

Silence settles once again: on your part, you don’t know how to waddle through the tension in order to start a conversation, and Jimin appears completely fine steaming in the lingering awkwardness. So you watch him start to eat, munching on the passable food you gifted him. At least he’s not grimacing while he gulps down his bites, so you tentatively count it as a win.

But his behaviour doesn’t escape your notice: he keeps glancing at you every few minutes, progressively getting antsier, nevermind the fact that he’s trying to scoot towards you with all the nonchalance he’s able to exert. His efforts are in vain, for the leather material of the sofa squeaks and groans his displeasure each time he fidgets in your direction. And the strangest thing of all is that he keeps twitching his nose: you’d think he’s caught a cold with the amount of sniffing that’s going on.

You’re halfway done with your meal when Jimin quietly slurp down the remaining broth in his bowl and place it down. He sends you another zealous look and then, seems to come to a decision. A blink later, the hybrid slides towards you, closing the distance, before proceeding to rest his head against your shoulder, eyes closed.

You’re getting better at this, after a full day around him, you think, because you freeze for just a couple of moments, before relaxing. You even nudge against him, letting out a breathless laugh.

“Are you still sleepy?” You ask.

“Yep,” Jimin answers you blandly, seeking out your warmth by pushing his face near your neck. You can almost see by a third point perspective the blush that’s raising on your throat, and you certainly feel the heat spreading underneath your skin, lighting you up.

You push a piece of spinach around, wondering how in the world are you supposed to eat when you’ve got someone plastered to your side, breathing in and out against you, nuzzling his head with his soft ears pressed against your jaw.

“So,” you begin, trying to not get distracted by the way Jimin hums to let you know he’s listening. You swear you can feel his soft lips glance your skin. “How was your grocery shopping?”

A lame question. Something that is obviously not really what you’re currently thinking about. You expect him to laugh at you, but he gives a pause.

“It went well,” he says, at last, sounding bashful.

The hybrid doesn’t offer anything else, and you’re left with a vague curiosity. Did manager Lee say something out of line? Did they even talk, or was it just a painful, boring and tiring outing?

Quiet descends once more. In the next ten minutes, you try to finish your meal without disturbing him, a question or two get asked and answered by turn, whenever either of you remember something you wanted to know.

At last, you can’t withstand it anymore.

Jimin’s warm and soft, gentle in the way he still has most of his weight off you, only placing his side, shoulder and head against you. But the prolonged contact starts to be overbearing. He keeps pushing his nose against the hollow of your throat, to then follow a line that snakes towards your ear where, invariably, his pillow-soft lips end up brushing against the lobe. He sighs, he inspires so keenly it seems he’s taking his last breath before taking a plunge in the dark ocean and then, in the last couple of minutes, he started to purr as well.

It’s agony.

“C’mon,” you strain to say, mustering up the courage to get up. Jimin almost slides sideways once you raise, but in a fluid motion, he regains his balance. He looks up at you questioningly, with a petulant pout on his plump lips. He doesn’t look sleepy, at all.

You resist the urge to gulp. “Let’s go home,” you smile at him, offering your hand.

He halts his sulking at a moment notice, promptly capturing your palm against his.

“Mmh, let’s,” he acquiesces.

After spending the whole elevator ride reassuring him you won’t disappear and leave him behind, you briefly separate ways: you go back to the communal kitchen to place what you used in the dishwasher and he goes to retrieve the grocery in your office.

You meet back at the hall, where he insists on carrying it, even if the sleepiness is back and his eyelids are half-closed. “I’m right here, let me do it,” he pleads, so you don’t insist, even if the taxi you called takes its sweet time before arriving.

Perhaps you fell asleep on the journey back, because everything is a blur: you know you must have tipped the taxi driver, you’re pretty sure you greeted the concierge and you definitely also managed to open the door to your flat.

You know that because you’re in the kitchen, surrounded by plastic bags, busy putting away product after product, directing Jimin in what cupboard goes that one thing and scrubbing your eyes to fight against the urge to just fall asleep against the sink.

Usually, you have complete faith in Lee. But the hours of training he scheduled for you did a number on you: you can feel now how sore your muscles are, the numbness seeping out all the energy you’d usually have, because honestly, it’s still quite early in the evening. You’re 24, and you feel like an elderly woman who strained herself too much by taking a lengthy walk.

If tomorrow I wake up with an excruciating back pain…, you ominously think to yourself, while you go in the living room to place the cleaning products on the table, in plain sight. You dare them to disappear.

You give a little stretch, wondering… maybe you could find the time to luxuriate in a bath, before preparing to leave for work. Full of bubbles, with your favourite scents, hot and with classical music coming from the speakers of your phone.

The thought is lovely enough, so with your spirit somewhat restored, you turn back to Jimin. He followed you like a duckling, and now he blinks back at you, tail whishing lazily behind him.

You can’t resist the smile his adorableness calls forth. “Let’s go to sleep early, so we’ll be ready to face the day.”

Jimin walks to you, push forward his hand in a silent gesture, and follows you once you have it clasped in yours. You guide him to his room, already compiling a list in your head of the things left to do before you can rest: brush your teeth, check on the emails, tend an ear on the gossip mill…

“’night, Jiminie,” you tell him, halfheartedly suppressing a yawn. You give his hand a last squeeze and then you let go, walking to your room.

As a human being, your actions can be founded on fallacies. Right now, for example, you are acting on the wrong belief that you’ve done everything you had to do. You ate dinner, returned home in one place where you put things in their places and you bid your flatmate to sleep well, and now you can go back to focus on yourself.

Until yesterday, that would’ve been logical.

But your roommate isn’t an introvert, a temporary guest, wishing for the same things you want, and after such a busy day, half spent away from you a ‘’night, Jiminie’ just isn’t cutting it for him.

He teaches you that lesson at once.

You don’t even manage to open your bedroom’s door, because the moment you go to push the handle down, a palm appears on the doorframe. For a moment you look at it without understanding, because you didn’t even hear his steps, so all you register is: there’s a hand on my door?

A split second later you’re the one almost plastered to your door, trying to comprehend what’s going on. You’re trapped between the solid wood in front of you and the likewise firm body of the cat hybrid from behind. Just like that morning, you feel his breath on the back of your neck, but it seems this isn’t enough: his lips soon follow, brushing the tingling skin, tracing a path to one of your ears.

Deliriously you wonder what’s his deal with your them and the whole of your throat, too. Nevermind your wrists.

Because while he puffs there, nuzzling his head against yours, his other hand sweep down your side, skipping your wristwatch until he reaches your palm, soft fingers stroking your inner wrist as if he’s trying to clean a non-existent stain.

Then in his groggy voice, Jimin whispers to you: “A night isn’t enough. I want you to dream of me all the time.”

He raises the hand he��s got in his hold and you vaguely catch his profile from the corner of your eye when he reaches over your shoulder to kiss the palm. His lips are searing hot against your cold skin, and for a crazy moment, you think he just branded you with them.

The hybrid turns his head, holding your palm against his cheek, wanting you to cup his face. In the dark hallway, all you can see are his hazel eyes, lidded but sharp, pointed right at you. It should be an uncomfortable position (any possibly existing diety be merciful, you were internally complaining about sore muscles just ten minutes and an eternity ago and now–), but the only thing you’re aware of is him.

“Even if you do, even if you manage to think of me and meet me in your dreams, it won’t be enough to catch up to me, you know?” Jimin tells you in an undertone, as if he’s a conspirator sharing dangerous, life-changing secrets. You would compare the feeling to be akin to what a priest in a confessional must experience when he’s hearing the most shocking admissions – but your emotions aren’t quite what a man of faith should endure. “I want to spend all the time with you, with your attention on me. And since you’re such a busy hardworking woman, naps have just got even better for me.”

You’re struggling to follow his sentences, him asking you to discern the meaning behind them is too much. What could make a nap look even better for a cat hybrid? And where do you enter the equation in that?

Jimin nears you, and you swear you feel his pillowy lips brush against your cheek when he goes to whisper in your ear: “There I can be with you.”

“Oh,” you breath out, as if he truly swooped your feet from beneath you and showed the meaning behind a troublesome problem that plagued your existence until then.

He delicately leaves your hand, nuzzles his head a last time against yours and then you feel his chest, his warmth, break away from your back; he leaves you with a sweet, innocent: “Goodnight.”

You don’t even hear him retreating, and you notice he’s gone only when the door of his room opens and closes. While it doesn’t give you any credit, you must admit that you remain there, staring blankly in front of you, for a couple more minutes.

Then, frazzled, almost senseless, you go to your bedroom as well.

Did he do all… that, just because he was dissatisfied with the way you bid him goodnight? Did he want to be reassured you’d dream of him again? Was he just feeling like it? Did it mean anything to him?

You scramble to think back on the list of things to do that was so clear cut in your mind, following its directives numbly. You try not to watch your face in the mirror when you brush your teeth, because yes, your face is on fire, your eyes are shiny as if your soul is grappling to find an outlet to glint through. Your emails would bore you to tears, but there are so many mentioning ‘the new asset’ and ‘the cat hybrid you and Manager Lee acquired’ and ‘legal documents regarding your companion’, that you skim through them at best. Social media are even worse: everywhere you go you find the photos you took with those fans plastered, cut to show only you and Jimin, smiling, holding each other.

You set your alarms and leave your phone to recharge.

Laying in your bed, at barely 10 P.M., the sweet detergent on your soft pyjamas trying to fight off the lingering scent which you’ve come to associate with Jiminie in a day and a half of being acquaintances. Still reeling from the strong emotions he makes you go through, every brush against your hyperaware body that mean so much to you and that maybe for him are less than nothing.

If he’d have been taken in by anyone else, would he have acted the same?

You turn off the lights and curl yourself, bringing the covers up, over your head.

You tell yourself it’s a moot argument: he’s here with you. He just told you, and in a manner that was all but conviction itself, he had dreamt of you all day long, whenever he took a nap. In the gym between busy exercises, sprawled on the nearest bench, when he wasn’t watching you intently. After lunch, when he sat against you on the armchair, saying you didn’t smell gross (that was a fat lie, you can’t imagine otherwise) and purring loudly. Even when you were done with your vocal training and you watched him sleep on the couch, his head tilted back, and you were wondering what he was smiling about, he was dreaming of you.

You groan against your pillow, closing your eyes tight. You’re going to think about that every time you’ll see him sleeping, you just know it.

Did he do it on purpose? Does he want you to wonder, constantly, what’s going on in his head?

He told you he gets random bursts of energy during the night, and you can’t help but wonder if he also gets bolder with his tiredness, if you’re destined to battle against his suaveness every time the sun goes down.

No matter how much you try to force yourself to focus on anything else, it’s an exercise in futility, and you fall asleep still thinking of Jimin.

If you liked it, please Reblog and Comment!

Your support would truly help me and I’d like to hear from you!

Thank you so, so much for reading all that, and for waiting for the update. It took half my life to write it, and while there are some bits that I really love, others seem lacking to my eyes. Even still, I didn't want to overthink too much.

A remainder: English is not my first language, so please tell me if you notice any blatant mistakes. Also, I copied and pasted everything and double-checked, but there might be some words put together where there should be a space in between: please ignore it? I'll re-read the chapter ten more time, eventually, and fix it.

Two things, before I leave you.

Jimin leaves you to have his tour with manager Lee. This you??

Ok, it's not a question, it's a fact. That was you. Can't blame you ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Also, the stretching scene should have reminded you of this:

Lastly, the dear, sweet people who asked to be tagged:

@4evahevah @sevenpersona @cloverblogs @thedyingwriter

Thank you, see you soon~ (｡●́‿●̀｡)

[vidalinav]

Stu(died)-Chapter 3

Summary: Cassian takes care of a sick Nesta

Nessian Modern AU-university setting. 

Masterlist, Stu(died) Chapter List 

(Rolls eyes hardcore) I am continuing this fic for literally five people. Smh. 

~

Nesta comes to their tutoring session late and that’s the first thing that tips him off. Already his phone is in his hand ready to call 911. He has Nesta’s number in his phone saved. The first person listed in his text log under Nerd. He can always text or call her. He belongs to The Rat Pack in Nesta’s Snap Chat group, and he knows he can always contact Emerie or Gwyn if something is truly wrong. Yet he dials in 911 and his thumb hovers over the call button.   

If she doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes, Cassian swears he’ll call.  

Nesta’s never late. In fact, she’s annoyingly early. She practically has a stop watch in her hand at all times, counting every minute she waits. When Cassian comes running in five minutes later, as he so often does, panting with some excuse, Nesta doesn’t even bother looking up from her textbook. She merely gestures to the seat, a heavy sigh on her lips, like she’s running out of time to bore him death even as she fascinates him to pieces. 

Her books should already be splayed onto the table, her pencils straight and neatly lined up. Today, the table is empty. 

He’ll give it fifteen minutes and then he’s calling.  

But Nesta shows up before another minute ticks by. She steps out of the elevator wearing that grey polo he’s seen on her a million times. She lugs her way to him, dragging her feet with the weight of those textbooks he’s sure are in her bag. 

She’s wearing a mask, today, and that’s another thing that sends his brain screeching somethings not right here! It covers half of her face, and her eyes look tired from where they peak above the fabric. Cassian doesn’t even bother waiting for her to settle. Already he’s crossing his arms, his brows crinkling with concern and something like irritation. 

How dare she think studying is more important than her health.  

“Go home,” he says as she nears. Nesta only blinks as if as not understanding his words. The fact that she doesn’t immediately argue is enough for him to start gathering his things.  

“What are you doing?” She says as he stuffs his notebook in his bag, “You have an exam in two weeks.” Nesta sets down her own, it slaps at the table with a heavy thump. Cassian can hear the zipper unzipping but not as well as the cough that roars out of her mouth.  

It’s loud and wet, and Nesta pauses as if to get her bearings, covering her mouth with her arm. She coughs and coughs and Cassian lays a hand to his own chest. He can almost feel how much it hurts, how she gasps. 

Cassian shakes his head, “No, I’m taking you home.”  

Nesta’s brows furrow and she gets that look in her eyes. He just knows she’s going to fight him on this. “I--”  

Cassian cuts her off, “please, save your breath. You’re going to make everyone sick.”  

“I’m wearing a mask!” Nesta argues.  

“It’s almost midterms.” Cassian gestures to the other occupants in the library. He sees one person with their hoodie pulled up over their head, clearly sleeping... and moves on to someone else. A group in the corner who’s standing by a whiteboard. “You want to take your chances with sleep deprived students?” 

Nesta seems to think about that. While she does, Cassian zips up her bag and throws it over his shoulder. It’s as heavy as he thought it might be. Briefly, he thinks of making a joke about how she must have stuffed a body in here, but he doesn’t think she’d appreciate it, given how quiet she is.   

Mentally, he starts making a list of everything she needs. Medicine? He’ll get the pills and the syrup, never mind if she scrunches her nose at the taste. He’ll get her soup. Not the canned. Cassian will buy the ingredients. He’s sure he can make something appeasing. Vaguely, he can remember his mom’s recipe. Beef broth and cabbage and squash. Hopefully she can stomach it. Never mind, the salt will be good for her.  

“Hey,” she whines, blinking up at him slowly, “give me my bag.”  

“Have you not heard me? You need to be home lying down. Not here, helping me study. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? I’m taking you home.”  

Nesta crosses her arms and the intimidation tactic seems ridiculous with her face half covered and her endless sniffling. “You can try, but I’ll just refuse to tell you my apartment number.”  

Cassian scoffs, “I know where you live. I can see your room from the house when you study at night.”   

“Who says that out loud?” Nesta shouts. 

She must be terribly ill if she’s yelling in a library. That’s all he can think as he gestures to the elevator, bags in hand. 

“Never mind that. Let’s go,” Cassian says, walking ahead without her. 

He can’t hear her shuffling though, so he turns back to find Nesta leaning on a chair, holding her stomach. He can already feel himself sighing.   

Cassian rushes back just in time for Nesta to rip off her mask, and move to the closest trashcan. It’s situated under one of the bulletin boards and as Cassian sidles up to her, rubbing at her back and pulling her hair away, he looks to the papers tacked to the board.  

Join the rowing team. Looking for tutors. Research participants wanted.  

He can hear the retching and Cassian reads on. 

Babysitter wanted for professor, transportation needed.

“I haven’t thrown up since middle school,” Nesta says pathetically. She frowns as he hands her his bottle of water. Her nose and cheeks are red and for some reason he thinks of Rudolph, lighting the way for Santa through the storm. 

He feels bad for little Rudolph...

“Now will you let me take you home,” Cassian sighs. He hopes it doesn’t sound like an ‘I told you so’ but she should really be lying down. He lays a hand to her forehead, but she brushes him off, moving towards the bathrooms.  

“I’ll wait right here,” he says, but Nesta moves ahead as if she doesn’t hear him at all. Cassian can’t find it in himself to mind. A sick Nesta is guaranteed to be a stubborn Nesta, he just knows.  

When she gets out, she looks surprised to see him and that’s another look that just proves how sick she must be. It’s a fairly obvious prediction that he’s going to wait next to the girl's bathroom, counting ceiling tiles. It’s a perfectly ‘Cassian with Nesta’ thing to do.  

“You’re skipping class?”   

Nesta coughs again, and she looks perfectly pitiful as she blinks her tired eyes. Cassian can feel his lips frown, and he shifts her bag more securely on his shoulder if only to keep himself from reaching out for her. Already he can feel his hands bunch into fists because he wants to grab her own and squeeze it until she's reassured. He wants to hug her until she feels better.  

But he can’t.  

Cassian lists every action he wants to do. Kiss her forehead where Nesta rubs her hand, because she must have a headache from how sick she is. Put on her favorite movie, so she can fall asleep to its sound. Run to every store, raiding every Walgreens and CVS until he comes back with a pharmacy.  

What might she allow now that she’s sick? Will she let him fuss like he wants to?  

But Nesta rolls her eyes in that haughty way of hers. “You can’t do that.”   

“I can’t do what?” Cassian asks and he wonders if she can read his thoughts. If she studies him so well, reads him like one of her textbooks, memorizing facts and facial features.  

“You can’t skip class,” she argues. “Why am I tutoring you if you’re going to skip class?”  

At the words, all Cassian wants to do is sigh. She’s thinking about attendance at a time like this...   

“Nesta, there is no class more important than you.” 

Her brows crinkle at the center like she’s going to start arguing, but Cassian allows himself one touch. He places his thumb there, between her brows, smoothing out the lines. Nesta rips away, blinking up dazed and all too confused. Cassian would laugh at the look, if he didn’t need the distraction.   

He juts his head to the elevator quickly. “Let’s go. We can walk slow, so don’t overexert yourself.”   

Nesta scrunches up her nose, so cute and red, but she follows him anyway albeit a little petulantly. She holds her hand out for her bag, but Cassian turns toward the doors, pretending not to see.   

“How does me being sick make you bossy?”   

Cassian doesn’t dare to respond. He doesn’t know whether he’ll admit that he wants to take care of her, that’s he’s so worried a knot twists in his stomach, or if he’ll make some joke, he knows will make her mad. Maybe that’s the better option, he thinks. He can handle a mad Nesta. He likes a mad Nesta, but a Nesta who so easily rejects him?   

Cassian doesn’t know about that.   

“You don’t have any classes left this week, right?”   

Nesta coughs into her sleeve before answering. Though she means to sound queenly, she only sounds sick, “you know where I live, and you also know my class schedule... seems suspicious if you ask me.”   

“I’ve known you for two years.” 

“And murder victims are three times more likely to be killed by someone they know." 

Cassian huffs out a laugh, shaking his head, “Do you still go to sleep watching SVU? Or have you switched to Lifetime movies where the babysitters always try to kill the wife?”   

“People should be wary about the people they know,” Nesta shrugs as if that’s answer enough.   

Cassian snorts, “well you don’t have to be wary of me.”   

As the elevator doors open, Cassian gestures for her to go first and Nesta does, but not before crossing her arms.   

“That’s just what a murderer would want me to think.” She squints as if dissecting him, limb by limb. “You kill me, and I’ll haunt you. You won’t be able to sleep at night without thinking of me.” 

Too late, Cassian thinks.  

It’s much too late for that.  

~

Rudolph has the patience of a five-year-old when she’s sick. Cassian learns this fairly quickly when he runs inside a Walgreens on their way to Nesta’s apartment.  

There’s a bench that she can sit on, where she can wait if she feels tired, but no. Nesta decides she needs to run errands. She has an entire basket filled by the time he finds her again. She’s by the greeting cards, holding three open at a time. Cassian huffs with a receipt and medicine in hand.  

“Here,” he says, giving her the cough medicine. “Take some of this.”  

Nesta doesn’t even bother with pouring. He watches as she rips the cap away, taking a swig right out of the bottle, gulping it down.  

“That’s way more than the suggested amount,” he cries, “you can get drunk on this stuff!”  

“Good, maybe I’ll forget this day ever happened.”

Cassian sighs... it seems all he does is sigh when she’s like this. A sick Nesta is a petulant, irritated Nesta with a permanent furrow between her brows. 

“I know you feel sick,” he tries to placate, “but I bet you’d feel a whole lot better if we get you home as soon as we can... so you can lie down and sleep.”  

Nesta only picks up another Halloween card. She ignores his suggestion, laughing under her breath as she reads whatever inane joke is written there. Soon, she’s coughing though, and Cassian reaches for the basket just to stop himself from rubbing a hand down her back, combing his fingers through her hair.  

Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn, his thoughts scream.  

Cassian looks to the contents to distract himself from her watery eyes, and that’s when he notices what she’s grabbed. It seems that while he was in the cold and flu aisle, Nesta was raiding the snacks. 

“What is this?” He gestures to the basket. Two boxes of cereal. Caramel corn. Baked Lay’s and cans of Arizona tea. Cassian takes one and holds it up. “Really Nesta?”  

“What it’s green tea!” she argues, shoving another card back in its slot.   

“This is all... junk,” he tries to explain, but Nesta’s already glowering. 

“Look I don’t question your decisions. You don’t question mine.”  

Cassian gives her a bland look. “You question my decisions all the time. Before we came in here, you literally said ‘why are we going in here, Cassian? Weren’t you supposed to take me home.’ You said that.”

Nesta simply raises her chin, pulling out another card. “I recall no such thing.” 

“Fine,” Cassian grumbles, “if you want to eat yourself to an early grave and ignore everything that could potentially make you feel better than that’s just fine with me.”  

“Good,” she says, putting back the other cards. Nesta settles for a pop-up that sings Monster Mash when she opens it. She sets it in the basket he holds, walking ahead without even looking back. “I’m ready to check out.”  

“Really?” Cassian jokes, mockingly. “Are you sure you raided the candy aisle?” 

Nesta stops in her tracks, peering through the section with printer ink and paper as if she can see the other side. He swears he’d facepalm if he wasn’t carrying all this stuff. 

“You’re right,” she says, nodding. 

“Wait!” Cassian calls. “Where are you going? Nesta!”  

Too late. He can already hear crunching bags. 

The variety packs.  

Cassian sighs, lugging their things to the aisle next door. 

~

“Can I use these vegetables?” Cassian asks, as Nesta shoves open the door to her room. He’s surprised she’s not still by the freezer. When they first get back to her place, she sticks her head in there and he wonders if he should suggest taking her temperature, or if she’s doing it just to show him she’s annoyed.  

Perhaps her ears bleed from the sound of his voice.  

That seems like something Nesta would say.  

“They’re Emerie’s. Why?”

“To make soup,” Cassian explains, rifling through the contents. There’s zucchini and summer squash. Onion, fresh parsley and carrots. Cabbage and lettuce. Fresh fruit. He can make a nice stew out of this.  

Nesta scoffs, “I don’t need soup.”  

She enters her room, shoving the door back behind her until it leaves only a crack.  

“You can leave now,” she yells. “I’m home like you wanted.”  

“Are you lying down?” He asks, crossing his arms sternly though she can’t see him.  

Nesta sighs loudly, “you’re annoying!”  

“Maybe if you got some rest, I’d be less annoying,” Cassian sings brightly.  

He can hear the soft sound of her voice. “Doubt.”  

Cassian shakes his head with a smirk. He opens his snapchat where The Rat Pack is the first on the list, but the group name has changed... to People I Tolerate.

That’s got to be Nesta.  

Cassian laughs under his breath and types. Can I use your vegetables? Making Nesta soup.

Emerie’s bitmoji pops up at the bottom, but the person who texts back first is not Emerie, but Gwyn.  

You’re at our house?

Cassian can almost hear her voice. Stern and cautious. He’s almost certain she doesn’t like him. Gwyn looks at him with even more disdain than Nesta when he's around. That stay away from my friend look.  

He sighs. Yes, Nesta’s sick.  

Gwyn’s quick to respond. I can come home early. I need to drop off a paper, but I can be there in 30.  

Cassian rolls his eyes and types, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of her.  

Nesta’s face pops up. I can take care of myself.  

“No, you can’t!” Cassian yells.  

“Yes, I can!” Nesta yells back, but then she starts coughing again and he can hear her groan in the other room. Cassian raises a brow at her door.  

I’m going to make soup. I’ll make enough for all of you, but can I use stuff from the fridge? I’ll replace it all.  

Emerie’s face pops up and then disappears quickly. He’s about ready to go to the store himself or at least next door to the House, but Emerie’s text appears.  

I have no objections to this.

Cassian smiles in relief, and he’s about to set down his phone when another notification appears. It’s Emerie again.  

And if you make good soup, you can stay indefinitely.  

Cassian sends a winking emoji. Nesta sends back the emoji with the straight mouth and eyes. Before he can frown at what that means, Cassian sees that the group name has changed... to Three’s Company.  

That’s got to be Gwyn.  

Stone cold, Emerie texts back.  

Cassian decides he’s going to ignore that for the moment and focus on the objective at hand.  

Soup.  

Cassian pulls out the vegetables and looks through the cupboards. Emerie, it seems, has all the good spices. He finds the broth packets stored in the back, and he pulls out some beef from the freezer. It’ll need to defrost but he can start the broth now, get the vegetables soft, and brown the beef later. It’ll take a couple of hours anyway.  

Occasionally, he hears a cough as he works. Then a sweet laugh... followed by a cough and a groan. Cassian feels bad for her he does, but he can’t help but find the whole situation amusing. She should be resting and yet she seems to be wide awake.  

Nesta doesn’t come out of her room though. It’s as if he’s not even there, and he takes that time to look over her shared apartment. There are three doors, each with a letter at the front. The N is blue, the E, green, and the G, pink. He doesn’t know how it’s possible to have a living room that looks like all three, but somehow it works. It’s studious and bright. Colorful, but subdued. There are way too many throw pillows and books scattered everywhere, but there’s also a TV with a fireplace under it. He can just imagine Nesta laughing at scary movies. Some slasher fic she’ll watch like she’s taking notes.  

He can imagine Nesta everywhere, in fact.  

This is where she eats. Where she sits. Where she studies. This is where she trips over shoes if they’re not neatly lined up and where she complains about dirty dishes. This is where she cooks... if she does cook. Cassian doesn’t know.  

Maybe he’ll get to find out one day.  

Once the water starts boiling and the meat is in the microwave to defrost, Cassian goes to check how Rudolph is doing.  

He knocks on her door lightly, pushing it open. “Nesta?”  

Cassian’s never seen her room before, say for when she sits by the window with her curtains wide open, and just like then, it seems like an invasion of privacy to do so now. But Nesta’s plopped on top of her bed, tucked beneath her blue comforter, and she sets down her phone when he appears at the door.  

Her whole room is filled with blues and creams, and it looks exactly what he imagines Nesta’s room to look like. The large calendar, an agenda on the desk, bookshelf after bookshelf lining her walls. There are also things he doesn’t know of her yet. Pictures and posters and a.... stuffed lobster? Cassian holds it up.

“Would you stop looking around?” Nesta groans. She has her arm resting over her eyes, and he wonders if it’s because she doesn’t want to see him looking or if she feels that bad that the light is bothering her.

She should be getting some rest, he thinks.  

“Where did you get a stuffed lobster?”

Nesta coughs out her response.

The sound makes Cassian grimace, his chest ache with need, but he doesn’t rush over like he wants to. This is her house, her room... and this is Nesta who doesn’t like to be coddled by anyone.

“It’s a heat pack,” she says at last, after she catches her breath.

“A heat pack?” Cassian looks to the soft red claws that dangle. He’s never seen anything so soft be a heat pack.

“For cramps,” she says as if it’s obvious. Nesta must take his silence to mean ignorance for she lifts onto her elbows, raising a judgmental brow. “Please tell me you know what periods are or am I am going to have to go back to teaching you biology?”

“No,” Cassian draws out, “I know what periods are.”

Nesta mumbles a thank god and Cassian watches as she shifts under the covers, pulling them up until they hover just beneath her mouth.

“Are you cold?” Cassian asks, looking around her room. He spots his burgundy hoodie neatly folded and nearly yanks it from her desk. “Here. Wear my sweatshirt.”

“I just washed it,” Nesta whines, “I was going to give it back to you.”  

Cassian’s confused by the words, but he merely gestures for her to budge up. He’s thankful when she doesn’t argue. He rolls the sweatshirt over her head and Nesta fits her arms through the sleeves.  

“You didn’t have to wash it,” he says, watching as she pats down her hair. If only he could pull it up for her, comb his fingers through it. She could use his scrunchie too, if she wanted.

Nesta rolls her eyes, and he can only imagine what she thinks. He can practically hear the words. Of course, you wouldn’t care about clean clothes.

Her expressions practically give her away--everything she feels and thinks. Cassian wonders if he knows how open she is to the rest of the world. He wonders if she’d hate him if he told her this.

“It was going to smell like me,” she frowns.

Cassian wants to huff out a laugh. That is perfectly fine by him.  

“Stop laughing,” she whines, “I’m being serious.”  

“Yes, you’re being very serious.” He can’t help his smirk as he gazes up at her. He doesn’t even realize he’s on her bed, sitting to the side of her all bunched up in red. Her nose to the fabric. He almost wants to say she looks cute in his hoodie, all sick like that, but he knows she’ll only bite at him, remarking about how he has some weird fetish for sick girls. 

Cassian holds back a laugh as he hears the microwave ding. He needs to turn the meat around, so it doesn’t cook through, but Nesta grips his arm. His head whips towards her and... Nesta’s gazing up at him. Her eyes are a soft blue. Just like her room.  

“You’re warm,” she says. To explain herself, he thinks, and why she holds him as if she doesn't want him to move.   

Cassian’s lips raise lightly, and he places the back of his hand on her forehead. “You must be worse than you’re letting on if you're okay with me being in your bed.”  

Nesta scoffs, “you’re on it. Not in it. I’ll make that distinction very clear.”  

“You can’t be that sick then,” Cassian shrugs, smiling. “If you’re making everything sound like a tutoring session.”  

Her cheeks flush a bright pink and Cassian thinks she must have a fever. He wonders if he should search for an ice pack or make one, so she doesn’t get too hot.  

“Are you tired?” He asks, noting how slowly she blinks. “You did drink a lot of cough syrup.”

“I also took a NyQuil,” she says, closing her eyes.  

Cassian huffs, “remind me to teach you how read warning labels when your fully coherent.”  

He can hear the microwave ding again, and it reminds him of an alarm. Wake up! It seems to say. Being in Nesta’s room does feels like falling asleep. Rather dream-like and hazy. The microwave dings incessantly, but Cassian doesn’t want to wake up just yet. 

Her hand is still on his arm. It’s so much smaller than his and he wants to trace the skin there and see if it’s as soft as it looks. Cassian doesn’t dare look at her, in case she doesn’t just bang together two loud cymbals and tell him to get up and out and away. 

Cassian looks ahead instead, fixing his gaze on the stuffed lobster on her desk.  

“Nesta,” he starts and then swallows. He feels nervous, his hands clammy. “Nesta, I really think you and I... we’d be good together.”  

Cassian takes a breath, and he stares at the lobster as if it’s her face. “We’ve known each other for a long time now and I... I haven’t hid how I feel about you.” His heart is beating way too fast, and he doesn’t feel any freer from speaking the words, but Cassian decides it’s time to rip the Band-Aid off. “I thought maybe... we could try it out. See if you might be comfortable with it. If you might like me... too?”  

He doesn’t know why he words that like a question, but Nesta doesn’t say a word. Cassian looks back, hoping there’s no disgust in baby blue. He doesn’t know what he’d do if she just outright says he’s trash and she’ll never like him. 

But Nesta’s fast asleep.  

Cassian doesn’t bother sighing as he grips her limp hand, setting it on the blanket. He doesn’t bother being disappointed when he tucks the comforter around her. Her cheeks are a lobster-red and he rubs a thumb lightly there, wondering what it would be like to hold her face in his palm and kiss at her nose. Would she complain as he pecked her lips? You’ll get sick Cassian.  

Then we can stay in bed together, Nesta.  

No. Cassian’s not disappointed at all. 

He’ll tuck away his dreams where tomorrow lives. 

Today, he’ll stick to what he’s good at, so Cassian heads to the kitchen to make soup.

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Mwahahahaahah

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In case you missed, here’s the stuffed lobster in the flesh.

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Tagged: 

@arinbelle @my-fan-side @sophilightwood @nestaarcher0n @duskandstarlight @soitsgorgeous @swankii-art-teacher @lordof-bloodshed @thewhelk @daisy-in-danger @highqueenevankhell @lovelynesta @sirendeepity @champanheandluxxury @ladynestaarcheron @moodymelanist @teagoddess99 @spoilersteph @angelic-voice-1997 @bo0kmaster69 @drielecarla @generalnesta @cozycomfyliving08 @confusedfandomslut @dread3r @sv0430​

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"Why am I still writing this fic?" I say angrily, as I angrily type it in my angry word document.