#should he weigh the two against each other and decide which matters more in that moment? it would be weird timing when

[anonprotagging]

one half of my brain: you changed a lot of things about the volo-gene reunion. most of them actually. you should change the end to your idea of gene confessing to guz too <3

the other, ruder half of my brain: but what if he doesn't and instead tells him about geoshenge in a display of emotional vulnerability & also to make the Plot Point make more sense <3

[lonewolfel]

Lightning that makes her Kingdom Fall: Chapter 5 - Leaving

Chapter List

On AO3

Ares was sitting on Apollo's couch not pouting no matter what Aphrodite, Apollo, or Asclepius say.

"I crushed his enemy for him and this is the thanks I get. He'd rather go to Athena then me," Ares complained.

"They both care for each other," Aphrodite reassured.

"I can care!" Ares exclaimed.

Aphrodite pat his shoulder. "I know love."

"Can you stop whining I'm working here?" Apollo huffed.

He had his lyre in his hands. Apollo was clearly trying to focus on his music instead of his family. Keyword is trying.

"I am not whining," Ares protested.

"Sure," Apollo said.

"Are you even paying attention?" Ares snapped.

"Yeah, lets see one of the mortals that Athena has been following around like a lap dog likes her better than you. Just like everyone else," Apollo said.

Ares stood up. "What does that mean, Song Bird?"

"Simple, like two gods ever liked you. One of them is because you are a good fuck and the other is your mother. Most if they want a war god they go to Athena," Apollo said.

"Well at least I'm not a bastard child like you and your sister," Ares said.

"Guys," Aphrodite tried to break in.

"Oh wow the only thing you have going for you is the fact Father for once fucked his wife," Apollos said.

"If you are just going to bicker then you can leave," Asclepius said.

He looked up from where he was monitoring Athena.

"Exactly," Apollo said.

"I meant both of you," Asclepius said.

"But this is my temple," Apollo said.

"Yes, but you aren't even trying to heal Athena. If you are going to be a distraction then it is for the best that you leave," Asclepius said.

Apollo opened his mouth to argue. He then closed it deciding against it. "Fine then I'm going to hunt with Artemis since my presence isn't appreciated," With that he stormed out of the room.

"Love," Aphrodite said. "You can be a bit intense at times. I know you mean well but you can scare mortals so easily. Perhaps you should try a different approach and maybe not share your rage this time."

"Different approach. I can do that," Ares said. He walked out with a determination that kind of concerned Asclepius.

"How is she?" Aphrodite asked now that it was just the two of them.

"She's stable, everything else we will have to figure out when she awakes," Asclepius said. "I must say I'm shocked that you care. I had been under the impression that you two hate each other."

"Oh, we do," Aphrodite said. "Well we did I'm not sure about now. She just always acted so high and mighty because she was immune to my gifts. I had honestly thought that she was incapable of loving anything at all, but during the games. She loves those humans. I don't want her to die when she was just beginning to understand love."

Aphrodite then stood up. "I should probably check on Hephaestus. He probably thinks that I'm making love to Ares again and we don't want another net incident."

Asclepius turned back to the unconscious Athena. She has made some surprising shock waves through some of the gods. It was both inspiring and concerning.

~~~

It has been a day sense he has left Calypso's island. Odysseus had nothing but smooth sailing which set him on edge. He didn't dare hope that Poseidon after all this time would have given up on killing him. Poseidon had to not know that Odysseus was back at sea which meant that he had to arrive home before Poseidon figures it out.

Selene's chariot was absent in the sky making it more difficult to see. Exhaustion weighed on Odysseus but he didn't dare go to sleep. He knew that sooner or later he would come across a foe and he couldn't be caught unprepared and he had to ensure that he was going the right direction.

Then he felt the water shifting below his raft oddly. Odysseus had to brace himself to stop himself from falling overboard to be dragged down to Poseidon's cold domain. Then he heard a loud roar and saw something glow beneath him.

"Fuck," Odysseus hissed.

It's mouth opened and Odysseus instantly knew what monster it is. Charybdis, the sea monster that sucks in the ocean to catch it's prey and then spits the water back out. It looks like Odysseus was the monster's prey tonight.

It's glow was enough to see the vortex of water being sucked down the ocean. Well Hermes did say that this was going to be dangerous. Odysseus wasn't about to back down or die. After so many years Odysseus has gone too far to be stopped from going home.

Odysseus moved the raft around one of Charybdis' large tooth.

Then an idea struck Odysseus. Eventually, Charybdis is going to have to spit out the water and when it does he can use the blast to escape. The force of it if timed right could shoot him far enough away that he wouldn't have to worry about a repeat performance.

Though all of this was risky. He had to be close enough to the mouth to be hit by the blast but not close enough to be sucked in. The raft got caught in the currents of the whirlpool. Odysseus began to turn the raft to get out of the currents. The force of it turned the raft onto its side sending what supplies Odysseus had gathered flying into the murky depths.

There was a slight pause in the sucking of the water. Odysseus moved to the center of Charybdis' mouth. If he was wrong about it being about to spit out water that meant that Odysseus would become it's food. It turned out that Odysseus had timed it perfectly.

There was a rumble underneath him. The water began to rise rapidly. The raft was shot out of Charybdis' reach. The raft skipped over the water. Odysseus let out a laugh of relief. He had survived one of the tests.

~~~

Telemachus turned around. There stood Mentor one of his father's most loyal guards that remain here in Ithaca.

"Mentor?" Telemachus asked.

"What are you doing here on the docks, my prince?" Mentor asked.

"I'm leaving Ithaca," Telemachus said. "Don't try to persuade me otherwise."

"Very well, follow me," Mentor said.

"Wait what? Where are we going?" Telemachus asked.

Mentor was already walking away. Telemachus quickly began to follow after him.

"I have a ship. If you want to leave Ithaca I can take you to another island," Mentor said.

"Wait are you going with me?" Telemachus asked.

"Of course, prince, I cannot abandon you," Mentor said.

"I'm not a prince anymore," Telemachus said.

"You are," Mentor said. "Do you want the ride?"

Telemachus nodded his head. He followed Mentor to a ship. The ship was setting sail to Pylos. He didn't have any objections to going there.

[get-lost-in-fanfiction]

I have been rewatching Lost and I love your writing! Can I request a soft Ben fanfiction, maybe where the reader is tending to his injuries? Thank you!

Ask and you shall receive <3

Because You're Injured

Paring: Ben Linus x F!Reader Word Count: 943

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The Island's night held an eerie calmness as you carefully tended to Ben's injuries. His usually confident demeanor was subdued by the pain etched across his face. The flickering light from the campfire painted gentle shadows on his features as you cleaned the wounds with utmost care. You didn’t speak about how he got injured like this, it scared you too much to think about what it would mean for you, your friends, and the Island.

"Does it hurt?" you asked softly, your voice carrying concern., distracting yourself from your thoughts of impending doom. However, the feeling still swooped in your stomach.

Ben winced slightly but managed a faint smile. "I've had worse, believe me."

Your fingers traced over the bandages, making sure they were snug yet not too tight. You had a lot of practice, helping Jack for all that time. It’s not like you had no medical training; you had taken some classes before the crash. Not that it mattered anymore; it felt like a lifetime away. His gaze met yours, gratefulness shining through the pain, making your heart ache almost painfully. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the rustle of the trees.

"You don't have to thank me," you replied, brushing a strand of hair away from his forehead with shaking fingers. "We take care of each other here."

Silence fell between you, the crackling of the fire filling the space. In moments like these, the barriers came down, revealing the vulnerability hidden beneath Ben's usually guarded exterior so few got to see. You felt a powerful emotion rise up in your chest, so you busied yourself with fussing over his bandages again to distract yourself. If you were being honest, you were scared of the attraction you felt for Ben. You didn’t begin on the best of terms, but now? Now he had become an ally and a trusted friend, at least to you; the others still didn’t like him as much. You couldn’t help to trust him, though.

"You're good at this," he remarked, his eyes fixed on the side of your head, which was the only thing he could see. 

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words against your will. You decided to take a chance and look at him. "Just practice,” you try to shrug as noncommittally as possible, “I've patched up more scrapes and bruises than I can count too."

Ben's hand found yours, a silent gesture of appreciation and perhaps a touch of vulnerability. Despite the impending doom that clouded your thoughts about the Island, in this intimate moment, it felt like the two of you were the only souls existing in that universe.

"You should rest," you suggested gently, noticing the fatigue weighing down on him.

"I'll be fine," he insisted, though his eyelids betrayed his weariness.

"You can be stubborn, you know that?" you teased lightly, earning a small chuckle from him.

Moments like these brought an odd sense of tranquility amidst the chaos. After all that had happened recently, you didn’t think you get another moment of peace like you did during the Dharma Days. As the fire crackled, painting dancing shadows around you, you remained by Ben's side, watching over him with a mix of concern and an unspoken affection.

The night deepened, the stars sparkling above like distant beacons, their serene light a stark contrast to the turmoil of the island. You adjusted the blankets around Ben, ensuring he was as comfortable as possible under the circumstances. His breaths came steady, hinting at the slumber that beckoned him, despite his stubborn resistance.

"You're not invincible, you know," you murmured softly, a gentle reminder.

A faint smirk played on Ben's lips, he opened one of his eyes. "You'd be surprised," he quipped, his voice barely above a whisper. You just laughed.

The tension that usually hung between you both seemed to dissolve in the night's quietude. You found solace in the shared silence, a language of understanding that didn’t require words. Despite the uncertainty that loomed over the island, here, under the canopy of stars, a fragile sense of peace enveloped you.

"I'll keep watch," you offered, your voice low but resolute.

Ben's gaze met yours, a hint of gratitude glinting in his eyes before he finally surrendered to sleep, his features relaxed in slumber. You sat beside him, keeping a vigilant eye on the surroundings, the fire crackling as the night deepened. As much as you were tired, you weren’t really sure what could happen in the cover of the night. While considering Ben's injuries, you planned to find the others in the morning. It would be difficult to trek through the jungle with the state he was in right now. But you knew that god healing sleep would help any soreness ben had greatly, even if he was sleeping on the ground.

At this moment, with the weight of the Island's still looming mysteries bearing down on you both, you found a strange sense of unity. Perhaps it was the vulnerability shared, the unspoken trust forged through adversities, or maybe it was simply the solace found in companionship amidst the unknown. You thought maybe something more could happen between the both of you, despite the idea scaring you beyond belief. Intimacy wasn’t your strong suit, after all.

As the night drifted on, you remained steadfast, a silent guardian in the shadows, watching over not just Ben, but the fragile semblance of peace that enveloped you both. You steeled yourself for another day, another fight, another journey. You would be ready for whatever would come because you had Ben by your side. 

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Please let me know if you'd like to be tagged for oneshots!

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Ian Millhiser at Vox:

The Supreme Court handed down a strange set of opinions on Monday evening, which accompanied a decision that largely reinstates Idaho’s ban on gender-affirming care for minors. The ban was previously blocked by a lower court. None of the opinions in Labrador v. Poe spend much time discussing whether such a ban is constitutional — although Justice Brett Kavanaugh’s concurring opinion does contain some language suggesting that he and Justice Amy Coney Barrett will ultimately vote to uphold the ban.

Rather, seven of the nine justices split into three different camps, each of which proposes a different way that the Court should handle cases arising on its “shadow docket,” a mix of emergency motions and other matters that the Court decides on an expedited basis — often without full briefing or oral argument. The Labrador case arose on the Court’s shadow docket. Indeed, Idaho’s lawyers did not even attempt to defend its restrictions on gender-affirming care on the merits. Instead, they argued that the lower court went too far by prohibiting the state from enforcing its ban against any patient or any doctor. A majority of the justices agreed with the state, ruling that the ban cannot be enforced against the actual plaintiffs in this case, two trans children and their parents, but that it can be enforced against anyone who has not yet sought a court order allowing them to receive gender-affirming care.

How the justices divided in this case

While none of the justices discussed at much length whether they think the Constitution permits Idaho to ban transgender health care, every justice but Chief Justice John Roberts and Justice Elena Kagan joined one of three opinions laying out how they think the Court should respond to parties asking them to provide relief on the Court’s shadow docket. Ordinarily, the Supreme Court waits until a case has been fully litigated in the lower courts before weighing in on a case in any way. Under its normal process, the Court also typically receives hundreds of pages’ worth of briefing on a case, hears oral argument, and spends months deliberating on how to decide it. Cases on the shadow docket, by contrast, ask the justices to bypass this ordinary process, typically to block a lower court order before the case has been fully resolved by a lower appellate court. The justices used to grant shadow docket relief very rarely — most often in death penalty cases where the inmate would be executed if the Court did not intervene swiftly — but it started granting it very often in the Trump administration after Trump’s Justice Department started routinely requesting shadow docket relief.

The justices divided into three camps in the Labrador case, with each camp joining concurring or dissenting opinions laying out how they think shadow docket cases should be resolved moving forward. Justice Neil Gorsuch, joined by Justices Clarence Thomas and Samuel Alito, faulted the lower court for issuing a “universal injunction” that prohibits Idaho from applying its anti-trans law to any party. Gorsuch argued that courts should issue more limited orders when a state or federal law is successfully challenged, which only prevent the state or the federal government from enforcing its law against the specific plaintiffs who brought the successful challenge. Kavanaugh, joined by Barrett, argued that, in shadow docket cases, the Court often “has little choice but to decide the emergency application by assessing likelihood of success on the merits.” That means the Court’s decision to grant shadow docket relief will often turn on whether they think the party seeking such relief should ultimately prevail when the courts reach a final decision in the case.

That’s potentially very bad news for transgender children. Though Kavanaugh's opinion does not discuss whether he thinks Idaho’s law is constitutional, the fact that he voted to reinstate the law (except with respect to the two plaintiff families in this case) suggests that he thinks Idaho has a “likelihood of success on the merits” when the ultimate question of whether trans health care bans are legal reaches the Supreme Court. Finally, Justice Ketanji Brown Jackson, joined by Justice Sonia Sotomayor, argued that the Court should show more “restraint” when it is asked to grant shadow docket relief. She argues that “our respect for lower court judges — no less committed to fulfilling their constitutional duties than we are and much more familiar with the particulars of the case — normally requires an applicant seeking an emergency stay from this Court after two prior denials to carry ‘an especially heavy burden.’” Although neither Roberts nor Kagan joined any of these opinions, Kagan briefly indicated that she would have denied the request to reinstate Idaho’s law in its entirety.

SCOTUS handed down a shadow docket decision permitting Idaho's law banning gender-affirming care (HB71) to take effect while Labrador v. Poe is still being litigated in lower-level courts. #SCOTUS

[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. 

[wlwmarvelenthusiast]

Can u write an au where carol’s cat (goose) keeps sneaking into fem!reader’s apartment and so carol and reader communicate with each other thru notes they put on goose’s collar and they eventually fall in love (((:::::::

Goose's Best Friend

Summary: After a stranger's cat injured in your apartment one night, you decide to attach a short note to its collar to give your apologies. They lead to something you could have never expected.

Pairing: Army Pilot!Carol Danvers x Reader

Warnings: language

Word Count: 2,792

It was the middle of the night, 2:57a.m., to be exact, when a loud crash shook you from the clutches of sleep. You sat up with a groan, rubbing your eyes to clear your vision enough to look at the clock on your nightstand. You swung your legs off the bed, eyes catching the shattered lamp on the ground. Fighting off the temptation to leave it on the ground for tomorrow, for fear that you might forget about it and slam your bare feet into the shards scattered around the floor, you slid your legs into some sweats and stood up.

You weren’t expecting, when you turned on the light, for something to move. When something darted around the corner you actually let out a high-pitched yelp, flying backwards and hitting your elbow hard off the corner of the nightstand. You felt tingling rush into the tips of your fingers as you tried desperately to comprehend what had just happened. Your breathing had already increased, and your heart was racing inside your chest. You took a hesitant step forward.

Despite being alone in the apartment, you flushed beet red in embarrassment when you found the creature you’d been so terrified of. The orange tabby cat stared up at you with wide eyes, letting out a quiet mew. Immediately your heart softened, its beat slowing down to a normal pace. When the cat made to step toward you, though, you immediately noticed the limp. Your eyebrows furrowed and you knelt down, letting it come to you. You reached out for its front leg, and it let you take it into your hand.

“Oh, sweet baby,” you muttered softly, wiping a bit of blood out of its fur with your thumb. “Come on. I think I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

It surely didn’t understand what you said, but it followed you when you stood up. It limped into the bathroom behind you, settling once it reached the tile floor. You reached into the cupboard under the sink and pulled out the red case, propping it up on the countertop and opening it up. Quickly, you located the roll of bandages and the scissors that came with it. You pulled it out and got some wet paper towels. Once more you knelt down on the ground next to the tabby.

A black collar around its neck caught your attention. You reached out for the silver tag that hung from it and spoke aloud. “Goose. Well, Goose, there’s no phone number here for your owner. Guess I’ll have to fix you up and trust you can find your own way home, huh?”

He meowed in response.

You continued to wrap up his leg. When you finally finished, you tucked the first aid kit away again. You clicked your tongue a couple times in an attempt to get him to follow you again. The both of you headed toward the kitchen, where you rummaged through the fridge for the leftover chicken from dinner the night before last. You pulled some out and set it in a small dish on the floor, a sort of apology for your lamp having done such damage to the poor animal’s leg. He helped himself quickly. Meanwhile, you dug through one of your drawers.

You popped the cap off a pen and cut a small strip of paper, struggling to keep your writing small enough to fit.

There was no number on the collar, so I opted for this. Goose found his way into my apartment and had an unfortunate mishap. I patched him up and gave him a treat. I hope that’s okay. He should be alright.

Hope he feels better soon.

You rolled the note around the tabby’s collar and taped it in place. He’d finished his treat by now, so you led him back to the apartment door. When you opened it, he cast one glance back at you, eyes shining as if in gratitude, then scurried down the hall. Just as he turned out of sight, though, someone else moved into your peripheral vision. You could have scoffed when you saw who had wandered into the hallway. She spoke before you could close the door.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“Fuck off, Danvers.”

“Captain Danvers,” she hummed, a wide smirk on her face as she twirled her keys around her finger.

“In your dreams,” you scoffed. “And next time you’re using your stripes to get random women in bed, be a little quieter, would you? Some of us around here have self-respect.”

You closed the door before she could respond to that.

You and Carol Danvers had hated each other for as long as you’d lived there. The two of you were like hot and cold, or night and day. She liked loud music and late nights whereas you liked a nice book and an early night. You were quiet and soft-spoken, and Carol was a bully. In fact, she was your bully. You’d never endured such teasing and taunting from anyone else before. It wasn’t her harsh words that got to you, though. In fact, you weren’t entirely sure what it was that got to you. Maybe it was her arrogance, or maybe it was her ignorance for anyone around her. It didn’t matter.

Carol Danvers brought out a side of yourself that you didn’t know existed. You’d only have to hear a single word fall from her lips or see a glimpse of her from the corner of your eye, and instantly any semblance of a good mood would dissipate and fade into annoyance. The hatred you held for her made your blood boil in your veins at the mere sight of her stupid, cocky smirk. You sometimes wished you could just reach out and slap that stupid smirk off her stupid face.

You pushed the blonde from your mind, heading back to bed. Hopefully, the coming day would be one that didn’t involve the blonde captain.

*

It was three days later that a quiet meow caught your attention. It tore your gaze from the TV, and you glanced toward the source of the sound. The face that was watching you immediately brought a smile to your face. You pat the couch beside you and the tabby jumped up, settling onto the blanket. You ran your hand across his head, watching his eyes close in content. You were about to turn your gaze back to the TV when you noticed the paper around his collar. It wasn’t the same one you put there. You reached out for it and removed it, careful not to rip it, and unrolled it. You flicked on the lamp.

Sorry about him. He wanders around the building. This isn’t the first time he’s gotten into someone’s room. If you fed him, he’ll probably come back to you (which I don’t mind, so long as you don’t mind that he’ll keep coming back). That’s how I know you’ll get this. So, thank you for patching him up. The vet would’ve cost more. You were right. He was just fine.

Rolled up with it was a twenty-dollar bill. You chuckled, immediately standing up off the couch. You pulled a small treat out of the fridge as you passed it, Goose trotting into the kitchen at the sight. You handed it to him and he took it happily, chowing down as you stood up straight again and continuing on your journey toward the notepad on the counter. Once again you ripped a small piece of paper out of it, ripping the cap of the pen off with your teeth and holding it there as you brought the pen down to meet the paper.

It seems so. You were right. He came back. He’s a sweet boy. I truly enjoy his visits. I don’t get many of them, so he’s welcome here whenever he pleases. And I don’t need this. Keep it.

You knelt down on the ground to Goose once again. He sat still for you as you wrapped the bill around his collar, wrapped the note around it, and then taped them both in place. Once more, you led him back to the apartment door, opened it up for him, and let him into the hallway. He rubbed his head against your calf once more before dashing out of sight. You shut the door behind him.

*

You huffed as you stormed into the lobby of the apartment building. Work had not treated you well that day. All you wanted was to head upstairs, put on your coziest pyjamas, order takeout, cuddle into the couch, and watch a movie or two. It was all you needed to wash away the horrible day and ease the stress that was weighing so heavily on your chest. You only wanted to pick up your mail before you did, but apparently, the universe had other ideas.

“Looking for some mail from your mommy?”

Danvers was the last person you wanted to deal with today. You didn't even bother to grumble a response to your neighbour, who was still in uniform as she stepped up beside you and unlocked her own mailbox. You were going to step away without a single word, but once more, you didn’t get your wish. Carol snickered at something, making you slam your box shut with far more force than necessary.

“What, pray tell, is so fucking funny?” You snapped.

“Oh, nothing. Nothing. Nice keychain.”

The keychain was a souvenir one you’d gotten from your trip to Disney with your family a few years ago. It was a picture of you and your brothers all wearing Mickey Mouse ears and sticking your tongues out at the camera. If anyone else had said the words, you would have blushed and thanked them. When Carol said the words, you shoved the keys in your pocket and shot a glare so harsh that it would have killed if it could have.

“You’re a dick, Danvers.”

“Captain Danvers,” she corrected once more.

“Look, this whole army pilot thing might work on those girls you pick up from god knows where, but I’ve met you,” you sneered. “You use this uniform for detestable things, Danvers. It’s disgusting.”

You stormed away.

When you unlocked your door and stepped into your apartment, however, you found that you wouldn’t need pyjamas or takeout or movies to make you feel better. Your new best friend was sitting on your couch as if he had been waiting for you to arrive home. You dropped your bag at the door and moved to sit with him immediately. After stroking his head absentmindedly for a bit, you noticed the new note.

Take it. Please? Come on, you’re going to make Goose sad if you don’t. You’re going to make me sad if you don’t.

Attached with the note, again, was that same twenty-dollar bill. You rolled your eyes as you moved into the kitchen once more, handing Goose a few of the cat treats you’d bought for him. He accepted them happily as, for the third time, you prepared to write a note for Goose’s mystery owner. You didn’t even bother to sit down, hunching over the counter in a way that your back probably wouldn’t have thanked you for. You scribbled on the paper.

I’m sure Goose won’t mind at all. As for you? Well, I don’t really know you, do I? Just keep the damn money, will you? You know, Goose is going to gain a few pounds if you keep sending him back here.

Sincerely, Goose’s new best friend

After a few pats to the head, you sent Goose off with that. He was back later that day.

Goose’s best friend,

Goose does mind. He wants you to keep it. Please? Besides, if we keep attaching it with scotch tape to a wandering cat, it’s going to get lost. You wouldn’t want that, now, would you? I sure wouldn’t. As for the treats, I’ll make sure to walk him a bit more. Wouldn’t want to lose my new favourite pen pal over a couple extra pounds on the cat.

- Goose’s mom

This time, there were two twenties attached. You chuckled at that. Goose was gobbling down his treat as you wrote.

Goose’s mom,

I think that’d be quite a sight to see, you walking Goose down the street. Guess if I ever see Goose leashed and with some random woman on the street, I’ll know what you look like.

- Goose’s best friend

P.S. Just donate the money. Seriously.

As if it were habit by now, you reattached the bills, added your note, and sent the tabby out the door once again. You headed back to what you’d been doing.

It wasn’t long before the next reply.

Goose’s best friend,

Here, I’ll help you build the image. I’m 23, blonde, and about 5’6”. I’m in the army, so I’d probably still be in uniform after work. Oh, and Goose’s leash is blue, and he has a grey harness for walking.

- Goose’s mom

P.S. I split the $40 between the humane society and the local shelter

You once more had to laugh at the stranger. Of course, you immediately moved to respond. As much as you didn’t want to kick Goose out, you wanted her to get your answer as soon as possible. You grabbed your notepad.

Goose’s mom,

You sound cute.

- Goose’s mom’s best friend

It was a short note this time. You were having fun, though, and you wanted to tease your new friend a little. You attached the note to Goose and let him run off.

Once more, Goose returned with a new reply.

Best friend,

You didn’t give me anything in response. I’m offended.

- Goose’s mom’s best friend’s best friend

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the way she’d signed her newest note. A pang of confidence hit your chest. You scribbled on the note.

Goose’s cute mom,

Let’s go for coffee then. 2B. I’m free when you are.

- Girl with a crush

*

You regretted sending that last note. You’d never gone more than 12 hours without communicating with the mystery note sender. You’d grown quite fond of the little pieces of communication you’d exchanged with her. It was actually the highlight of your day, on most days. Since sending that last one, though, you’d yet to hear back from her. It’d been four days now. You were quite upset about it, and decided the best way to fix that was some loud music. Maybe it’d piss Danvers off as much as she pissed you off.

When there was a loud knock on the door, you immediately assumed that you’d sure pissed someone off. Of course, they’d complain about you and not her. Everyone loved Carol fucking Danvers. You wished you could whirl the door open and shout at whoever was on the other side, but knew yourself better than that. You’d probably open it up and apologize, then turn the volume down and wallow in your misery to the sound of softer music.

That is, if it were anyone but Danvers.

“What? Just now realizing how damn annoying it is to hear loud music blaring from the apartment directly below yours?” You rolled your eyes. “Fuck off, Danvers.”

You went to slam the door, but she stuck her hand in. It must’ve been a little harsher than you meant to, because she shook her fingers out when she retracted them. You didn’t apologize, because you didn’t even feel bad. She deserved it after giving you two years of hell having to live in the apartment below her. You’d not have been surprised if one day she invited an elephant into her room just so she could make as much noise in your apartment as possible.

As you were about to make another snarky remark, though, you noticed something. That cocky glint that was usually shining in her brown eyes was missing. She wasn’t even meeting your eyes. Her gaze was cast to the door beside your head, locked to the bronze numbers that were screwed into it. You raised a single eyebrow, waving your hand in front of her face to get her attention. She blinked as if coming out of a trace, looking back to you.

“What do you want, Danvers?” You snapped when she wouldn’t speak.

She didn’t answer. She only held out a small piece of paper. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, but took it from her. The handwriting was one you’d seen so many times.

Goose’s best friend,

Coffee it is. But I’m paying. I still owe you.

- A girl who also has a crush, Carol Danvers

[rocksinmuffin]

Preview for Twisted Wonderland Oneshot

Okay this is just like the first four pages and I still have a lot I need to write to actually finish it but I am impatient and craving validation so here’s a little taste

And, yes, the reader/mc does not know that their weird friend who prowls the campus at night looking for gargoyles is actually Malleus Draconia and they use the English version’s nickname of Hornton because I think the English one sounds stupider which makes it funnier.

“It’s good to be home!” you exclaim as you step inside the dusty entryway of Ramshackle Dorm, crossing the living room to plop face-first into the couch, and never have you meant the words more than you do right now.

You’d just spent the last four hours decorating the gym with the other house wardens and, while hanging streamers doesn’t sound like it should be too much work, it’s a different story when there are no ladders to be found on campus and you are the only one who can’t use magic to do the dirty work so you have to rely on stacking furniture on top of each other like a jenga tower and pray. Even more so when someone who can use magic decides their energy is better spent with their feet safely planted to the floor telling you the streamers look crooked. It turns out that Vil is even more of a perfectionist than Riddle and bossier to boot.

Really, it’s not fair that you’re being held to the same standards and expected to share the responsibilities of the rest of the house wardens—all powerful mages and the best their dorms have to offer—when you got your position because your only competition is a talking cat who eats rocks off the ground. You’d almost think people forgot you were working without magic if they weren’t constantly bringing up the fact to drag on you.

“Finally, you’re back!”

You lift up your head to turn to Grim, a little warmth stirring in your chest at the thought that the little monster missed you. Rock-eater he might be, it’s nice to be with the people who truly appreciate you.

“We’re out of tuna and I’m starving. Go pick some up for me. And make it snappy!”

You frown, the warmth in your chest snuffed out like a candle in the breeze. “Could you at least say the magic words?”

“…Abra cadabra?”

You were thinking please and thank you but, sure, why the hell not. You’re used to doing everyone’s busy work anyway, what’s one more menial task to add to the pile? You groan as you pull yourself up from the couch, stretching your arms up over your head and wincing as your back cracks. Grim, deciding you are not treating this matter with the urgency it deserves, pushes at your legs and ushers you out of the dorm. The second you cross the threshold, the door slams shut behind you with enough force to send a rush of cool air tickling along the back of your neck.

You take two steps off the porch before you hear Grim call your name. You turn back to see him hanging halfway out the front window. “Don’t come back unless you get the premium tuna!” he shouts before promptly slamming the window shut and locking the latch for further emphasis.

With a tired sigh and a wallet that will soon become much lighter, you embark towards Sam’s Mystery Shop.

~*~

When you return to the dorm, your arms are weighed down with bags filled to the brim with canned tuna and a single candy bar for yourself, handles of the plastic bags discoloring the flesh of your palms where they dig into your skin. Hands full, you bump the metal gate open with your hip, shuffling in as quick as you can manage. Unfortunately, the side of one your bags catches on the fence and you can do nothing but watch in resigned disappointment as the thin plastic tears, sending several cans spilling to the damp ground and one particularly heavy can on top of your big toe.

You hiss through your teeth, ignoring the sting as you bend down to pick up the fallen cans. As you reach for the fourth, your hand brushes against a set of gloved fingers that have wrapped themselves around the can seconds before you. You jolt backwards before your brain even registers who has appeared before you in a flurry of lights like green fireflies.

“Hornton!” you shout, a little out of breath and hand on your chest. “You startled me!”

“Child of man,” he greets you, slight twitch at the corner of his lip that you have come to recognize as a genuine smile. It drops when he notices the shakiness of your arms and the bags under your eyes. “You look exhausted.”

“I am exhausted,” you sigh. “Risking life and limb to tape pastel-colored tissue paper to the ceiling will do that to you. But it’ll be worth it when I’m making an ass of myself dancing the funky chicken in the middle of the gymnasium with spiked-punch-induced lowered inhibitions.”

And you mean it. Despite your complaints and sore muscles, you are genuinely excited for the upcoming dance. It’s the most normal thing that’s happened to you since you woke up in a coffin to a talking cat trying to steal your clothes.

Hornton raises a single thin eyebrow. “The college is holding a party?” He tries to look disinterested, eyes focused on the can of tuna he turns back and forth in his hand, but he sounds genuinely surprised. Which is odd considering the entire campus is littered with fliers advertising the event. That and everyone and their grandma hasn’t shut up about it for the past week.

It’s a little strange but you try to give Hornton the benefit of the doubt. You never see him on campus outside of his nightly gargoyle tours so it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assume he spends most of his time outside of classes holing up in his room. Kind of like Idia but way less sweaty.

“Yeah, this Saturday. It’s some kind of ballroom sort of event that happens every year. Or something,” you shrug as best as you can with your arms weighed down.  After all, you’re just a freshman. Being an upperclassman, he should know more about it than you. “Apparently, it’s a pretty big deal.”

Hornton gets a look in his eyes that’s hard to decipher; a flash of something soft and quiet that feels a little melancholy, a little lonely. But then the look is gone so fast you wonder if maybe you’re just projecting. Not so much these days, but you remember a time when it felt like it was just you against the world. Either way, you know more than anyone what it feels like to feel all alone and out of your element.

“You should come and see the fruits of my labor. I promise you’ll never see a better-hung streamer.”

“Are you inviting me to join you?” he asks, slow and cautious and—dare you say—optimistic.

You had just meant in general, but Hornton has seemed to take your invitation to mean you would go together. You had already promised Ace and Deuce that you and Grim would go with them as a group and you think Hornton would probably understand if you told him that you had made a prior commitment. Still, there’s a hint of something like hope in his eyes that sparkles behind the amusement and you can’t quite bring yourself to dash it. Instead, you nod your assent.

“You always manage to surprise me, child of man. To think you are brave enough to invite someone like me.”  Hornton brings his fingers to his chin, smirking down at you.  His other hand gently places the can of tuna he’s been holding into your palm as if he is presenting you a gift, despite it being something you bought yourself with your own money. “It would please me to join you at the dance. And see these expertly-hung decorations.”

And with that, he disappears in a glow of green fireflies, as suddenly as he had arrived.

“So dramatic,” you sigh as you return to your task as tuna deliveryman, being careful of the damaged bag as you haul the cans back to the front door.

Tomorrow, you’ll break the news of your sudden change of plans to your friends. You feel a little guilty but you think you’re making the right decision. After all, you only ever see Hornton by himself so he might not have any other friends to go with. Grim won’t mind as soon as he sets his sights on all the tuna you brought him. And the others? Well, Ace and Deuce will understand.

~*~

“WHHHAAAAT?! What do you mean you got a date to the dance?!”

You flinch, sliding down in your seat as several tables turn their heads towards you. “Gee Ace, could you say that a little louder next time? Some people in the back of the cafeteria might not have heard you.”

Ace pays your sarcasm no mind, slumping down in his own seat and pressing his cheek to the tabletop. “Awwww maaaan! I can’t believe the magicless student managed to snag a date while I’m stuck going stag.”

“What? Are you surprised?” Grim asks with a mouthful of grilled chicken, bits of food clinging to the fur around his mouth and chin damp with grease. “I’d think you’d be used to being single by now.”

“Huh?!?!?! What’s that supposed to mean?!”

Grim grins unkindly through a mouth of sharp teeth and pre-chewed chicken. “Exactly what you think it means, incel.”

Deuce scoots his lunch tray a couple inches to his right, hoping to protect his meal from the cartoon fight cloud forming as Ace and Grim flail their arms and slap at each other with limp wrists.

“It’s not even that kind of date,” you sigh, too desensitized by their nonsense to be very bothered by it. “Hornton and I are just friends.”

Deuce chokes on his sandwich. “Hornton?”

“Not his real name, don’t worry about it.” You turn from him back to Ace. “Listen, I didn’t do this to bail on you guys. It’s just, you and Deuce and Grim have each other and, well, if I’m being completely honest, I think I might be this guy’s only friend.”

Ace breaks from his fight to offer you a deadpan, “Gay,” before pulling Grim into a chokehold and going in for a noogie.

“Does this mean I’m stuck going with just these two?” Deuce asks, thumb jutting out to point at Ace and Grim as the former tries to pull the latter off his back, Grim’s claws embedding themselves into Ace’s school jacket making the task easier said than done.

“Sorry,” you smile in apology, “But it’s not like we won’t still meet up at the dance, right?”

Deuce sighs dejectedly, eyes closed and head hanging so low his chin nearly falls into his plate of mashed potatoes. You offer a nervous laugh and a pat on the shoulder.

Without warning, you feel the hair on the back of your neck stand straight.

Gooseflesh begins to rise as a shiver passes through you. It feels like you’re being watched but a quick survey of the room shows that everyone went back to their own business after Ace’s earlier outburst. All but a single pair of blood red eyes that look at you from the complete opposite end of the cafeteria.

Once he sees you’ve noticed him, Lilia Vanrouge—upperclassman and vice warden of Diasomnia dorm—waves coyly at you. You have only spoken to him on three different occasions since you have been at Night Raven College. While not on bad terms or anything, you would not consider the two of you on friendly terms with one another either. Certainly not to the point of making eyes from across the room. Still, when he makes no sign of looking away, you finally wave your hand in an awkward, half-assed manner.

Satisfied, he flashes you a fanged grin before abruptly turning his attention back to his fellow dormmates.

Weirdo.

[disasterofastory]

Three times when you fall asleep on Ivar (Ivar x Reader)

Three times when you fall asleep on Ivar Ivar x Reader Warnings: none

I.

Your life is busy and tiresome between training and your energetic brothers. The little pests can’t sit on their arses for one minute. If they are not on your heels, then they are somewhere else getting in trouble. You love them to death, but your days would be so much calmer without them.

You sit next to Ivar while his brothers train. They dance around each other, laughing and chatting about a slave girl.

“Who are they talking about?” You ask the youngest son of Ragnar.

“Margarethe,” he hisses with clenched jaw. His blue eyes are burning holes in his brothers.

“Why are you angry?” You ask him. “Are you interested in the slave too?”

“No, she is just a slave,” he shrugs.

“Then what is your problem?” You ask stubbornly.

You know the brothers since childhood. You spent most of your time with Ivar when his eyes were deep blue, and everybody was afraid to play with him because of his bones. He was never interested in the other sex. At least not until now.

“Why do you care?!” He snaps at you.

You stay silent. You are too tired for his moods.

Your eyelids start to get heavier and heavier till you can’t open them anymore and blackout. You lean on Ivar’s shoulders, your folded arms against your chest and your legs in a small spread. He hears your breathing, and your hair tickles his neck. He is annoyed. He doesn’t like your weight against his, and he doesn’t know what to do. Should he move? Or wake you up?

He moves.

He crawls out under your slumber form, and you fall to the ground where Ivar was a few seconds ago. He doesn’t even look back at you when you yell at him.

“You are a dick, Boneless.”

II.

The second time you dare to fall asleep on Ivar is during a sacrifice. The sun is long gone from the sky, the torches are on fire, and Aslaug speaks about the Gods and the next raid against the Christians. Your face is painted with black coal, and your hair is braided for battle, although you know you won’t fight tonight. You sit next to Ivar on a barrel. You enjoy his face while he looks at the sacrifice. He is in awe.

The voices start to fade away, and your body moves to Ivar again. For a few minutes, he doesn’t even notice, and when he does, he does nothing about it. He has a better plan. He waits for almost ten minutes for the bowl with the blood in it. He paints his face with it, then reaches above you and pours the whole liquid onto your hair. You gasp at the warm feeling which goes down on your face and neck.

“Ivar!” You shout at him, straightening out.

Of course, blood is an important part of your customs, but you don’t want to bathe in it if it’s not on the battlefield.

“What?” He asks innocently, but his sly smirk betrays him. “I think the red looks good on you.”

“Sometimes I don’t even know why I’m friends with you,” you murmur, offended. You stand up and don’t wait for his answer. You just want to go home, wash down the blood and go to sleep.

He looks after you, and his smile slowly fades away.

III.

After the first two times, you are careful around Ivar. In reality, you don’t even have time for him. You train and help with the chores around the house when you don’t look after your siblings.

One day you busy yourself in the garden when you look up and find Ivar behind the fence.

“What?” You ask him, surprised. You didn’t talk with him for a few days.

“Are you still angry with me?” He asks you impatiently. He doesn’t like it when you don’t seek him out, and he hates it when he has to apologize to you.

“No, Ivar,” you answer, and you are mean it. You are used to his mean behavior. “I’m just busy.”

“Busy enough not to come to the feast?” He asks. He sent Hvitserk to ask you about your plans tonight, and when his brother came home with the news, Ivar knew he has to come to get you himself.

“Yes,” you answer shortly. “I already told Hvitserk.”

“But you have to come!” He demands. “I’m your prince!”

“Ivar, just stop!” You tell him. “I won’t go, deal with it.”

“Tell me, why!”

“Because my parents want to look for a husband for me!" You burst out. “And I’m tired! And I want to sleep! And I can’t do that because I always have things to do, and if I can lay down, I can hear my parent working on to have more kids and my brothers noisy even when they are asleep!”

Ivar's eyes widen while he listens. He didn’t even know about your problems, but it’s not a surprise after all. Whenever you two are together, you are the one who listens to his complaints about his brothers, the slave girl, and his useless legs.

“Then you have to come!” He decides.

“What? Did you hear me?!” You ask him angrily.

“You need a night to relax, and I make sure after the feast you can sleep calmly.”

He will be damned if he let another man have you.

Before sundown, you dress up and braid your hair. You wear a burgundy dress with silver decors and a warm pelt on your shoulders. You still don’t want to go, but you know Ivar will be furious if you don’t show up.

When you arrive, the hall is already full. It seems everybody has a great time. Yeah, you wish you could go home and relax.

You see the brothers at the main table with Aslaug and an Earl from the neighborhood. Your eyes lock with Ivar’s, and he beckons you to come, sit next to him. You greet the others before you sit down next to the dark-haired Viking and look at him suspiciously when he starts to pile up foods on your plate.

“What?” He asks. “You worked all day, I’m sure you are starving.”

“Thanks,” you tell him cautiously. You know Ivar rarely shows his affection or care to others, so you have to be careful about him if you don’t want to anger him.

You start to eat, and he is right. You are starving. The food you thought is too much is gone before you know it.

“Ivar?” You ask him more warily when he puts his arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer to him.

He looks at you almost pleadingly. It’s hard for him to show his feelings and even harder for him to speak about them. His blue eyes search yours to find his answer.

“I can’t let you marry someone else,” he tells you quietly so the others can’t hear him.

“Since when?”

“Does it matter?” He asks you, and you shake your head no.

For a few minutes, you are still a little bit frozen. You never imagined a future with Ivar, but you couldn’t imagine a future with someone else.

When he notices you start to doze off, he pushes you softly to his room.

“Go, change your clothes. I ordered the thralls to bring you some clothes for the night.”

“Ivar, if it’s a prank…” you warn him.

“It’s not, I promise. It’s warm and comfortable.”

You smirk, and he immediately looks you over suspiciously while you lean closer to him to whisper into his ear.

“Your one of your tunics would be enough.”

When you lean back, you see his face is red, and his lips are slightly open.

You turn around and go to Ivar’s room to change and make yourself comfortable on his bed. The wood burns and crackles on the fireplace and the furs make you warm as you lay down waiting for the Viking.

You hear him crawling to the door and slowly opens it to let himself enter.

“Is it comfortable?” He asks you.

“Yes,” you answer.

He climbs up to the bed and changes his clothes as fast as he can. You saw his legs countless times, but he still tries to hide them. You don't like it, but you understand him, and this talk can wait.

He lays down next to you, but he is rigid.

“You can get comfortable… you know?” You tell him patiently. You would be lying if you would say you don’t enjoy his haunted figure.

“Of course, I know,” he snaps at you. “This is my bed.”

“Okay… Mighty Bed Owner,” you laugh at your joke.

He doesn’t answer, and you start to doze off again. You feel warm and comfortable and tired. So tired.

Ivar waits almost half an hour to make sure you are asleep before he moves closer to you. He doesn’t even have to do much, you unconsciously lean to him till you almost on top of him. He feels your breath on his chest where the tunic doesn’t cover his skin, and your arm weighs on his stomach.

How could he let any man feel this?

[powdermelonkeg]

I'm really sorry about sending this (no pressure if you don't want to answer!!) but you seem like the only person in all this whos talking about it without yelling. Why are you against jojo even after she gave two apologies?/gen

I've been thinking over this ask for a little while now, so I'm sorry for the delay in answering; I really wanted to word this properly and considerately to all parties involved.

Yes, Jojo did give two apologies regarding the issue. And a large cut of the community is frantically gesturing to these apologies and going "See? She apologized! What more could you possibly want?"

Therein lies the issue.

An apology is not an order. An apology is an acknowledgement, tied to a request—"I messed up. Can you look beyond that so we can continue our relationship?" And as a request, there are a million ways to interpret it.

"Okay, I believe you, let's be friends" is a valid answer to this request. But so is "I don't think you're sincere, so no," or "I don't think this is a big enough deal to warrant an apology," or "even if you've learned from this, I'm hurt, please don't talk to me again."

A request does not demand a straightforward answer. A request depends wholly on the interpretation of the person receiving the request, and whether or not they WANT to fulfill that request.

An apology is not, and should never be, transactional—you should not expect forgiveness if you give one, and you should not be required to forgive if you get one. My mother could write me the most sincere and touching letter that she means from the bottom of her heart, and I'm still allowed to tell her "no."

When I was little, my parents had a rule about my siblings and I when we'd hurt each other—if my little brother hurt me, he had to say sorry, and I had to say I forgave him, and end it with a hug. In the end, it made me question whether someone ACTUALLY meant it whenever they said sorry to me, and made me feel bad for not forgiving them right away—which means that it wasn't ever really forgiveness, just a way to end the moment. I've had to fight hard to unlearn that, and that means acknowledging that sometimes, things hurt, and I'm allowed to FEEL hurt.

The thing about Jojo's apologies, though, is that they are not for me. I'm a singlet—i.e., a person without Dissociative Identity Disorder—and thus, what Jojo did in her recent update does not affect me.

Let me break it down into more simple terms, for clarity.

For me to act like the apology WAS for me is the same as if someone hit you, apologized for it, and then the person NEXT to you said "oh, don't worry, they forgive you!" before you even had a chance to speak.

For me to act like those affected SHOULD accept the apology is the same as if someone hit you, apologized for it, and the person next to you pulled you aside and said "you're going to forgive them, right? It would be absolutely awful of you if you didn't. Look how bad they feel about hitting you."

In both scenarios, it's not that person's place. They weren't hit, and they don't get to decide if you, the person who DID get hit, have to accept anything.

"She apologized, what more do you want?"

You have to accept that, for some people, the answer is "Nothing."

⠀

As for where I, personally, stand on this, it's a little more brief.

Yes, I do have opinions on how this was handled. Yes, I do think the community should have approached it differently.

But what I think should have happened isn't my place to say.

I don't consider myself to be someone that was affected by this. Even if I WAS a system, I don't think I'm active enough in Jojo's community to weigh in on this—hence why I didn't post about the wayback machine snapshot, despite being trans. It doesn't impact me, SPECIFICALLY me, in any way I actually feel hurt by.

But I also recognize that I'm not everyone, and my experiences are not everyone's. What should matter here are the people that this DID hurt, above everything else, and supporting them simply because they WERE hurt. You can disagree with the interpretation those people have of Jojo's apologies, but in the end, it's not your apology to respond to.

I'm removing myself from Jojo's works because, VERY simply, the things I've read about her tell me that she's not a person I would want as a friend. I personally think her apologies were padded with unnecessary details, and it detracted from how sincere she was. I personally think that, given her track record, this indicates a mean streak that she reins in when it isn't socially acceptable. I have standards in the company I keep, and I have boundaries I don't want crossed. So this is me drawing the line on what I find okay. And if I don't like a person, it's my decision to not interact with them, no matter what they say or do.

You're free to draw your own interpretations. Maybe you think this is all being blown out of proportion. Maybe you think she's genuinely sincere, or that she's trying her best. And that's YOUR decision—I'm not going to tell you what you can or can't think, or who you can or can’t interact with. Just know where I stand, and respect the boundaries of the people around you.

[bcdwhcre]

Suggestion coming!! 🙈 If you are not comfortable with writing this it's completely fine! ❤ I was thinking maybe something fluff that turns smutty in the end with Levi.. Maybe Levi comes back from an expedition and goes to his cabin in the woods( extra points if it's snowing ❄). There he saw his soul mate crying because she thought Levi was dead because of some false information. He comforts her.. And eventually shows her how much she means to him.. 😊

This is actually my first suggestion so sorry for any inconvenience! 🖤

“Wrongful Death,” Levi x Reader

Summary: You heard rumors of Levi and his entire squad being dead from their expedition but when he comes home to you upset, he comforts you.

Warnings: angst to fluff then smut

.

.

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The long week with Levi being gone was already a lot for you to handle. You always hated when he went out on long expeditions because there was no way to communicate or to know if he’s alright or that he’ll be coming back safely.

Even though you always had full confidence in him and knew just how good he was at being a Scout, you still couldn’t help but worry or have doubts lingering inside of your head as you lay in bed alone.

One day in particular you had gone out in the town just to grab a few things you needed, including some food to make something special for him when he returns which should be relatively soon, he never stayed out longer than a week.

It was starting to slowly snow as you walked about, the cold air becoming thicker as the clouds roll in and sprinkle down the white substance onto the ground, making it stick. You had made a mental note to hurry up with the shopping before it got too cold to handle.

But as you looked down at the vegetables, picking out the best suited ones, you had heard the MPs whispering about near you and once Levi’s name was brought into it, you had stopped what you were doing to listen in on their conversation.

“I heard this expedition was one of the worst ones.” One of them said, making you slowly start to worry at where the conversation was going.

“Yea, I heard Levi’s squad all got wiped clean- no survivors.” In seconds your heart had dropped all the way down to the pit of your stomach, the instant panic that came straight to your head.

You had stopped what you were doing, completely ignoring what you were getting and started to turn back to walk home. You started to feel light headed the faster you had tried to get back to your place, not wanting to fully give into your emotions out on the streets.

The wind started to pick up on your way back, making you tug the big coat around you tighter as you tried to walk faster towards the small cabin you two had shared.

You didn’t want to fully believe what the MPs were saying but you had a gut feeling that they would know what happened out on expeditions before anyone here and that had made you believe that maybe Levi was dead, maybe this expedition was too difficult for him.

As your shaky hand unlocked the front door with the key and opened it up to the empty cabin, your heart started to shatter more, your breathing becoming heavier as you sat on the couch and started to let your emotions overpower you, making soft sobs leave your lips at the thought of him being dead.

His voice kept repeating in your head about him promising you he’ll be back home. The constant reminders he would give you when you both laid in bed before he had to go, always telling you how much he loved you and how he’ll always come back home, it only made things harder to wrap your head around.

You didn’t have anyone else, you didn’t have family, you only had Levi and now that you were fully alone, or so you thought, it broke you apart bit by bit. As you stood up after crying on the couch for a few minutes, you had decided to turn on the fireplace and take your coat off.

All you did was grab a blanket, some hot chocolate and sat back on the couch to cry out your emotions, your face flushed and full of your own tears as you stared out at the wall, almost emotionless.

All while Levi rode his horse back into the walls and towards the base to drop his things off and head back home to you. He was drained from the long week and he was glad it was finally over so he’ll have a relaxing weekend with you.

The snow now became thicker and covered up every inch of the ground, seeing his breath as he grabbed his things and made his way towards the cabin as the sun started to set as it hid behind the clouds.

He didn’t realize how fast he was walking back, he was impatient and he was dying to see your face. He didn’t want to think about the long week he had endured and he didn’t want to think about what had went down including the lives they sadly lost.

He quickly walked up the steps, opening up the door and stomping his boots on the ground to knock off the snow before fully stepping inside the warm cabin. His eyes instantly landed on you on the couch as you turned to see who opened your door, almost startling you.

When he saw your flushed cheeks and your red tear filled eyes, he became worried and shrugged off his coat before making his way over to you. You were completely stunned because you’ve been sitting here crying, thinking he was dead and now he was standing inside the cabin, his worried eyes meeting yours.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asked but you quickly wrapped your arms around him and embraced him in a tight hug, more tears spilling out.

“They said you were dead, Levi. I thought you were dead.” You mumbled quietly, feeling completely dumb for believing the rumors you heard.

“Who did?” He was confused, pulling you back to look down at your red eyes.

“The MPs, they said no survivors.”

“And you believed those lazy idiots?” He scoffed, cupping your cheeks and wiping the remaining tears off your face.

“Yeah, sounds stupid now that I think about it.” He cracked a smile, continuing to swipe his thumbs across your cheeks to get rid of the tears that slipped.

“You know I’ll never leave you, right?” He said softly, sighing under his breath at the mess those MPs caused for letting a silly rumor slip.

He was angry but he couldn’t show it, he knew that it wasn’t worth the trouble arguing with those idiots and considering you’re sitting here upset and have been for a few hours, he knew that you needed someone just for a little bit, you needed that comfort to reassure you that everything is okay.

So he sat there on the couch, holding onto you as your head laid there against his chest, hearing his heartbeat thump repeatedly, reminding you that he was here and alive, it wasn’t your imagination.

You could still feel the sadness weighing down on your heart, the sighs leaving your lips so casually as you continued to imagine Levi getting killed on a mission. You couldn’t stop the anxiety that replayed in your mind, it was torture and he soon caught on to your dozed off state.

“You know you mean the world to me, Y/N.” He mumbled, giving you small words of reassurance to comfort you some more.

“I’ll never leave you behind, even if I was out there bleeding out- I would still crawl back home to you.” It wasn’t the best choice of words but you understood what he was trying to say.

“I know, I just get worried.. you’re all I have left.” It was a scary feeling to always worry about him and whether or not you’ll be attending a funeral because he didn’t make it out alive, especially a funeral without his body to bury- it killed you slowly.

“I love you.” He said quietly, his vulnerability leaking out of him to show you just how much he cared about your feelings. H wanted you to know just how much you meant to him.

He decided to get off the couch after kissing the top of your head. He knew that what he went through the last week didn’t matter, not when you were in a state like this. You were first above all, his first priority and he wanted to make sure you were happy and healthy before anything else.

So, he had decided to make some tea and take you to bed where he piled as many blankets as he possibly could to get you warmed up considering it was snowing down pretty hard outside and it was becoming increasingly chilly.

He set your cup of tea on the side table beside you, his lips landing on top of yours for a quick moment, something he’s been thinking about since he left on the expedition. All he thought about on that mission was your warm lips that fit perfectly with his and the way your fingers would always comb through his hair when you both were laid up intertwined with each other.

This all made him happy, the small butterflies exploding inside of his stomach as he slipped under the covers and embraced you in his arms, making you feel safe and more than happy to see his face again. You shivered slightly, your fingers slipping up and tangling in his hair before the both of you started to kiss which got heated pretty quickly from how much you both had missed each other.

It didn’t take long for his body to be hovered over yours and his lips molded with your own to make your skin feel hot underneath all the blankets that had surrounded your bodies.

“Let me show you how much you really mean to me.”

.

.

.

.

Oh lord here’s another sad post about me being back but at least I posted a writing while I was at it :p

• AOT Masterlist •

• Main Masterlist •

[sassyhobbits]

rowaelin with their first child and they get into that stranger anxiety phase and cry with everyone except when they're in their mothers arms and it's exhausting but also adorable but rowan sometimes feels like a bad dad because his kid doesn't want to be held by him so aelin has to reassure him and then some day this phase is finally over - prompt 😢🥺

ok i adored writing this one. dad rowan is so much fun to work with. i hope everyone enjoys!!

~~~

In his over 300 years, Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius had been awoken by many different things. Whether it was a call to battle while sleeping in a war tent, a summons from his queen late at night, or a lover trying unsuccessfully to disappear quietly before dawn. Yet, none of these manners of waking up had filled him with as much dread as he felt currently.

He was woken in the middle of the night by a shrill shriek coming from the room that adjoined the one he shared with Aelin. In the recent months, what had once been a leisure room had been converted to a nursery for their new baby girl.

It took three years after Aelin’s coronation before they decided to start trying to have a child. It took another year before they were successful. Rowan counted his blessings. He had seen plenty of Fae couples take decades before they finally conceived.

Eliora was four months old now, which meant four months of troubled sleep for both him and his mate.

Rowan was instantly on alert at the sound of his daughter’s cries. He knew that they were no more than a normal babe’s troubles, but his instincts made him tense anyways. He quickly sat up, looking down at his wife quickly to see if she had woken up. Luckily, she still slept, likely beyond exhausted from the mix of raising a child and ruling a kingdom. If Rowan was successful, she wouldn’t have to wake up at all.

He got out of bed and swiftly stepped into the nursery, coming before Eliora’s crib. Her tiny face was pinched up in dainty outrage, small limbs flailing as she cried. Rowan took a deep breath, sending a prayer up to the gods more out of habit than faith at this point, and picked his daughter from the crib. Hopefully, this would be the time he could get her to stop crying.

The little princess shrieked and protested whenever she was in anyone’s arms besides her mother’s. Rowan’s included.

“I’ve got you, my little light,” Rowan whispered to his daughter, cradling her tiny body to his bare chest and lowering himself onto the rocking chair they kept beside her crib. “Everything’s alright.”

Despite his soothing words, Eliora still continued to cry. It broke Rowan’s heart to hear, broke it even more to know that nothing he did could seem to calm her down.

“Please stop crying, love,” Rowan pleaded, threading his fingers through the fine, silvery-blonde hair growing on his daughter’s head. “Your mother is so tired and needs her sleep.”

Unfortunately, even begging didn’t seem to work.

Over the sounds of Eliora’s cries, he heard the door hinges creek, and the sound of bare feet scuffing over stone. Rowan glanced over, finding Aelin walking towards him. Exhaustion weighed down her beautiful face, but her eyes were still full of fondness at the sight of the two of them.

Rowan looked to her apologetically before his face crumpled in defeat. “I can’t get her to stop crying. I’m so sorry, Fireheart.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love,” she whispered, leaning down and pressing a kiss to his hair. “Give her to me.”

Rowan handed the squirming bundle of blankets to his wife. Aelin situated their daughter in her arms before she lowered herself on Rowan’s lap, allowing him to wrap his arms around her waist, press a kiss to her shoulder, and begin to rock them.

Quickly, Eliora’s cries began to fade away. Her face unscrewed, looking at Aelin with those wide, Ashryver eyes that she had.

Aelin began to sing a low, Terrasenian lullaby as he continued to rock the three of them. It never ceased to amaze him how good she was with their daughter, how quickly she was able to sooth her temper. He only wished that he could do the same, that Eliora would look at him the same way she looked at Aelin and not scream and scream and scream.

Rowan’s heart was full of love as he watched Eliora’s eyes begin to droop shut at the soothing rocking motion and the sound of her mother’s voice. It wasn’t long before she was once again asleep, the night perfectly silent.

Rowan helped Aelin stand, keeping a hand against her back as she brought their daughter back to her crib and laid her down. Perfect. She truly was perfect.

A gentle hand on his arm drew his attention away from the slumbering babe. Aelin nodded her head towards their room and Rowan dutifully followed, shutting the door quietly behind them.

“I’m sorry, Fireheart,” Rowan said again, drawing Aelin into his arms and kissing her forehead. “I know you’re exhausted.”

“No more so than you.”

Rowan could only sigh, pressing his lips together tightly. His emotions were troubled, and he should have known that Aelin was going to notice. She leaned back slightly, peering up at his face.

“I know what you’re thinking, Rowan, and you’re wrong,” she said matter-of-factly.

Rowan wanted to believe her, but he couldn’t help but ask, “What am I doing wrong?”

He had faced many challenges over his years. Wars and battles and tortures. He had survived them all and came out victorious. And yet, the thing that brought him to his knees, was the fact that he couldn’t bring comfort to his own daughter when she needed it. A baby had finally defeated him.

“You know you’re not doing anything wrong,” Aelin said firmly. “The nurses said this happens sometimes. It’s not your fault.”

Rowan had heard this what felt like a thousand times. It did little to soothe his troubles.

Rowan was good at many things. He was a warrior and a general, had stepped confidently into the role of king consort. His hands could kill and heal and build, but they couldn’t get Eliora to stop crying. He couldn’t help but feel that, perhaps, being a father… wasn’t something that he was made for.

It broke his heart to think. He remembered how excited he was when they found out Aelin was finally pregnant, how they cried and kissed and clung to each other, whispering about the future. He had been ecstatic, but also terrified. He knew Aedion, who had welcomed his own son into the world a year before Aelin got pregnant, had felt the same before he was born. But, Aedion hadn’t had the troubles Rowan did. He had stepped into fatherhood gracefully, and his son loved him immensely.

“Hey,” Aelin said, a bit snappily. She put her hand on Rowan’s cheek and urged him to look at her. In those eyes was a familiar fire. “Stop that. I know what’s going through your head. You’re a wonderful father.”

Rowan sighed and hung his head, pressing Aelin’s hand more firmly against his cheek. “How can I be a good father if I have no idea what I’m doing?”

“Do you think I’m a bad mother?”

“What? Of course not.”

“Well, I don’t know what I’m doing either,” Aelin said. “Neither did Aedion or Lysandra. No new parent has any idea what they’re doing. It’s part of the job.”

She made it sound so easy. Aelin had always had a knack for that.

“I wonder if there’s some secret behind it,” Rowan mused as Aelin tucked herself back into his chest and wrapped her arms around his torso.

He felt his wife shrug. “I don’t know… but if there was, I think it would be to love them. To support them. To do everything in our power to make sure they’re happy.”

“I love Eliora more than life. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for her.”

“I know, love.” Aelin rolled on the tips of her toes and brushed a soft kiss against Rowan’s mouth. “Now, all you need to do is have patience.”

He chuckled. “Look at you. Who would have ever guessed that Aelin Galathynius would be lecturing me on patience.”

Her grin was a slash of white in the dark. “I’ve been told I’m wise beyond my years.”

“Who the hell has ever told you that?”

“People. Now, will you come back to bed with me?”

“Of course, Fireheart.”

They climbed back under the covers, pressing their bodies close. Aelin fell back asleep almost comically quickly. Rowan wasn’t far behind, holding his wife tightly throughout the night.

…

Another month went by and little changed. Both Rowan and his wife were getting little sleep during the night, leading to some groggy mornings. He had seen Aelin taking short naps at her desk or dozing off when an advisor spoke for too long. She would, of course, deny it if Rowan ever brought it up, so he wisely stayed silent.

Eliora still abhorred being held by anyone except Aelin. The fact that it wasn’t just him brought Rowan a bit of solace. His daughter cried when held by Lysandra or Fenrys or Elide. She had a particularly nasty meltdown last time Lorcan had held her.

“I know, sweet girl,” Aelin had murmured, taking Eliora from Lorcan. “I wouldn’t want to be that close to him either.”

Still, Eliora’s reactions didn’t deter Rowan from trying to hold and soothe her, though he had not yet been victorious. Patience, Aelin had said. It was easier said than done.

The sun had set below the Staghorns hours ago. Eliora was asleep in the nursery, Aelin was treating herself to a long soak in the tub, and Rowan sat in one of the plush armchairs they kept in their room, sharpening and polishing some of his blades.

It was an easy practice to get lost in. The simple, repetitive movements were a welcome distraction. A good way to cool down before bed.

However, his hands froze when he heard a tiny whimper sound from the nursery that quickly morphed into a shrill cry. Eliora.

Rowan placed his blades down on the low table before him, pushing to his feet and quickly striding into the nursery.

Eliora was wiggling as she wailed. Rowan wished he could read her mind so he knew exactly what was bothering her and how he could help. But, all he could do was take a deep, bracing breath and scoop his daughter into his arms.

“What’s wrong, little light?” Rowan whispered, carrying her over to the rocking chair. “What is it?”

Eliora’s only response was to continue crying.

Rowan sighed, wondering how much longer he had before Aelin got out of the bath and came in to calm Eliora down. He had seen Aelin do it countless times. She would take Eliora into her arms, smile down at her, start to whisper nonsense or sing a low lullaby. She made it seem so easy.

“Everything’s alright, Eliora,” Rowan murmured, switching to the Old Language. “I’ve got you. I’ll never let anything happen to you, little love.”

And then, something amazing happened.

Slowly, Eliora’s cries began to fade away to a whimper and then, to nothing at all. Rowan held his breath, worrying that one wrong move would put her back into a fit of hysterics. His daughter slowly opened her eyes and peered up at him.

Rowan smiled down at her. “You’re just as lovely as your mother. Just as stubborn, too.”

And then, as if she understood his little joke, Eliora flashed him a gummy smile. The shift in expression floored him. She had never given him a smile before.

Rowan felt his throat tighten and his eyes begin to burn, but he smiled back at the tears welled up. A tiny laugh escaped his throat. Finally, finally, he had done it.

Eliora’s chubby arms reached up. Rowan held out a finger, letting her wrap a tiny hand around it. He always forgot just how small she was.

“I love you more than you could possibly know, Eliora.”

He was too distracted by his daughter and the little grip she had on his finger to notice that Aelin had entered the nursery until she was almost upon them. Rowan looked up at his wife, knowing that his eyes were still watery and there were likely tear tracks streaking down his cheeks. Regardless, he beamed.

“It would seem, once again, that I was right,” Aelin said with a triumphant smirk.

“As you often are, my love.”

She laughed and dropped a kiss to his forehead before draping her arms over his shoulders, leaning over and watching their daughter, who was studying them with wide eyes. Once again, Eliora smiled. Rowan would never tire of the sight.

“She looks like you when she smiles,” Aelin mused.

“You think?”

She nodded slowly, reaching out and running her knuckles along the smooth curve of Eliora’s cheek. “I still can’t believe she’s ours. She’s just so… perfect.”

“Like her mother.”

Aelin snorted. “Kiss ass.”

“Maybe a little.”

They faded into silence, simply standing there, wrapped up in their little, blossoming family. They stood there until Eliora’s eyes fluttered shut once more and she drifted off into a peaceful sleep. One she enjoyed for the entirety of the night.

Rowan didn’t know what he had done to deserve such bliss, but he knew it must have been something good.

[nerdyfangirl67]

With a Little Help From the Team - NCIS Reader Insert

Pairing: Tim McGee x fem!reader, Gibbs x daughter!reader (brief/vague)

Word count: 2717

Warnings: this was a pretty fluffy piece! (not gonna lie), mild language, reader is Gibbs’ daughter

Request: @ncisfan​ “Hello! I saw your post from this morning saying you didn’t have any requests for ncis at the moment and I wanted to make a request. If for some reason you don’t want to write it that’s okay but here’s my prompt,(Idk what to call it) The reader and McGee have been dating for years and McGee has to tell the whole team (Tony, McGee, Bishop, Gibbs. That team please!) including her dad (Gibbs, cause why not?) when he wants to propose. You can decide on if they say yes or no but I hope you’ll write it. Sorry if I’m overwhelming you I just wanted to make a request”

A/N: I know I’ve told you this @ncisfan​ , but I absolutely love this idea! And a McGee x reader? Yes please! I did put this in both McGee’s and the reader’s point of view and changed it up a bit. (Yeah, I got super involved in this one and it got longer than I thought…and took far longer than I thought) I hope you enjoy it darling!!

Tim stands in the bullpen, nervously trying to find the right words to tell the team about you, the team of which just so happened to include the one man capable of making him feel like a young schoolboy still wet behind the ears, especially since that one man had a lot to do with what Tim was about to say.

Tim takes a deep breath to gather his last bit of courage and confidence, which promptly fades away the moment he starts talking.

“I uh…well you know that I’ve been seeing, no dating…dating Y/N.” Tim stutters out as his nerves get the better of him, completely fumbling the carefully planned out speech he had come up with prior to meeting with Gibbs.

Gibbs narrows his steely blue eyes as he wordlessly nods his head, telling Tim to continue.

“Things have been going well, really well actually. And I’ve been wanting to, or meaning to…not that I was putting it off, because I wasn’t. That’s the last thing-”

Gibbs cut him off with a “Spit it out McGee.”

“What I’m asking is for your permission, no..that’s not - I want to propose to her.” He was speaking so fast, his words were nearly running together, his sentences jamming together into one that didn’t make much sense.

Gibbs doesn’t say anything at first. Instead, he continues to stare at Tim, looking for any trace of deception in his face. “Why?” He asks gruffly, startling Tim.

“Wh-why?” Tim squeaks out, an uneasy feeling weighing on his chest as he tries to find the right words to answer a question he hadn’t prepared for.

“Yes, McGee. Why? Why do you want to marry my daughter?” Gibbs pauses, still evaluating Tim and his reaction. “Why should I want you to marry my daughter?”

Tim takes a deep breath, a sudden burst of confidence washing over him as he realizes that the answer to such a question was right in front of him. “Because I love her… honestly, I have for a long time, even before we started dating. And, more than anything, I want to spend the rest of my life with her. I want to spend every day that I have left in this life showing her I love her and cherishing her the way she deserves. I can’t imagine my life without her in it.”

Gibbs surprises him then, with a small smile and a hearty clasp to his shoulder. “Alright then, probie. Now all you have to do is tell her that and of course, ask her to marry you.”

Had it been any other girl, McGee might not be struggling as much to find the words. But you weren’t just any girl. You were not only Gibbs' daughter, something that caused him far more fear than he’d ever admit (he was dating the boss’ daughter after all), but you were also close with the other members of the team, which made this whole ordeal all the more nerve wracking.

You had come to know the members of the team through your job as a technical analyst for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, meaning you spent most of your time hunting down case leads in a cubicle. Then, as you grew better at your job, and closer to Abby (who had had something to do with getting you on Gibbs team, although she’d never admit to it), you had been moved from that cubicle to a desk in Gibbs’ bullpen, unceremoniously joining the team, although not full-time as you still worked with the cyber/tech unit, your father thought so highly of (something he would never admit out loud, even to you).

You eventually became just as close to Abby as your father was, something Abby always attributed to ‘a Gibbs thing’, - “It must be a Gibbs thing because Y/N is just as great as Jethro and we just click.” Many times, if you weren’t working on a case, you could be found hanging out in the lab with Abby.

You and Tony were best friends, spending hours talking about movies and pranking each other. And, despite your “geeky background” of tech analysis, Tony never once teased you (a courtesy Tony had never given him). In fact, he had become something of a big brother to you, filling a role in your life you hadn’t ever thought you’d needed filled.

And then Ziva had joined the team, filling in little by little that hole that had been left after Kate’s death. Even with the high tension existing between Abby and Ziva, you and Ziva had hit it off right away, becoming fast friends. Eventually, despite the perceived oddness of your friendship, you, Abby, and Ziva became an inseparable trio, even occasionally ganging up together against Tony or Gibbs.

Suffice to say, you were important to the team, just as they were to you. And now Tim was faced with telling these people that he not only had been dating you (a relationship the two of you had decided to keep relatively quiet because of your line of work and the fact that you were often times coworkers), but that he was going to ask you to marry him, a proposal of which he was seeking the team’s help with.

“So, uh...I-well, I’ve been seeing, er...dating-” Tim starts, his mind scrambling as he tries to form a coherent sentence.

“McGee, the chickadee is out of the bag. We all know you’re dating Y/N.” Ziva says matter of factly,

“Cat, Ziva, the cat is out of -” Tony starts reflexively, before pausing and turning to Tim and then to Gibbs, his mouth hanging open. “Wait-what? You’re the one Y/N has been dating?” He asks incredulously.

Gibbs takes a step forward, slapping Tony on the back of the head. “Close your mouth DiNozzo.” Tony’s jaw snaps shut at the command.

“Keep talking McGee.” Gibbs says gruffly, his piercing blue eyes settling on Tim.

“I’m going to ask her to marry me.” Tim blurts out.

“We kind of knew that McGee.” Abby states, her lips pulled into a satisfied smirk. “I mean, you haven’t exactly been stealthy about ring shopping. Or buying the ring. Or getting it inscribed.” Abby lists off, earring a few incredulous looks from the other members of the team. “Y/N’s my best friend, okay? I had to make sure the ring was a good one.”

Tony turns to McGee. “McRomeo getting married? Why is this the first I’m hearing about it?” Tony steps forward to give Tim a good-natured shoulder shove. “You like it so you’re putting a ring on it, huh?” He asks with a Cheshire Cat-like grin on his face. Ziva is the one who moves to slap him in the back of the head this time.

“Ow, Ziva. What the hell was that for?” Tony asks, a hand already rubbing the spot Ziva had just smacked on the back of his head.

“When will you ever shut up and let McGee finish?” She questions, giving Tony a pointed glare. He opens his mouth to respond, but a hard look from Gibbs keeps him quiet.

Tim timidly clears his throat before continuing. “I’d like to do it here. And, um...I’d like to do it here, with all of you.” Smiles spread through the group at Tim’s words, several ideas already being blurred out by the more enthusiastic members of the team (it was Abby. Abby was already excitedly sharing ideas with the person sitting next to her, which just so happened to be Gibbs.)

——— You squeeze Tim’s hand before letting go, reaching for the handle to your car door. “See you at work.” You say with a soft smile before turning back towards your car.

“Let’s, um, let’s ride together today, to work I mean.” Tim stammers nervously, a hand on top of your driver’s side door, stopping you from leaving.

“Are you sure? I thought we were trying to keep this, us, quiet.” You ask, stepping away from your car and closer to him. He cups the side of your face with his hand, leaning forward to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips.

“Just once, okay?” He asks quietly, a sheepish smile on his face.

You let out a small laugh. “Just this one time, alright Agent McGee?” You say with a smile, letting him take your hand and lead you towards his car. He opens the passenger door for you, closing it behind you before getting in the driver’s side. The entire ride into work is marked with Tim either giving you a huge dopey grin or a quick nervous glance, which only serves to make you suspicious, as if the insisting to ride together didn’t already.

Tim pulls into his usual parking spot, shutting off the car before turning to you. “How about we walk in together?” He asks hesitantly, a shy smile accompanying his question.

You quirk an eyebrow up at his question before responding, “Tim, it might make it pretty obvious what’s going on between us if we do that.” “Let’s do it anyway, Y/N.” He reaches over to squeeze your hand before climbing out of the driver’s side of the car and making his way to your side of the car. He opens the passenger door for you, offering you a hand to help you out, which you graciously accept. He continues to hold your hand after you are out of the car and as the two of you walk into the building, only letting go as the two of you go through security.

The two of you are the only ones on the elevator and for the entirety of the short ride, you can almost feel Tim vibrating beside you with some sort of nervous energy. You bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a gentle kiss to it before murmuring, “You okay?” He gives you a tight nod in response just as the elevator dings, announcing its arrival on your floor of the building.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Have a good day Tim, I love you.” You say, moving towards the open doors of the elevator. Tim reaches a hand out, grasping yours and stopping your exit out of the elevator.

“I, uh, I’ve got to give you something. It’s in my desk drawer, in the...bullpen.” He stammers out, quickly retracting his hand to wipe it against his suit jacket.

“Oh, can I get it at lunch?” You ask, turning back towards the front of the elevator and pressing the button to reopen the doors.

“No.” He shouts, startling you enough that you take a step back away from the sliding doors. “I mean, come with me?”

“What is up with you today Tim?” You demand, his unexplained, unnatural behavior causing your suspicions to rise, a million questions running through your head.

“Just...please.” His voice is thick with emotion, his words coming out barely above a whisper.

You silently nod your head, stepping back into the elevator and allowing the doors to close as you press the button for the floor that the NCIS team resided on. You spare a look over at Tim, whose is rubbing his hands up and down his slacks, his face turned towards the ceiling of the elevator and his lips moving in silent words.

“Tim, what is going on? You’ve been acting weird all morning and I just-” The elevator dings, announcing your arrival on the floor of the bullpen and effectively cutting you off.

Tim puts a hand over the doors, stopping them from closing as he looks at you, his kaleidoscopic eyes pleading with you to understand and to trust him. You give a small nod, taking his outstretched hand in your own and following him to the bullpen.

Right away, you notice the lights over the area of the office you’d come to know as your father’s, as Gibbs’, were off. A flash of fear settles in your chest as you begin to picture all the possible scenarios as to why your father’s part of the office was empty and dark, none of them positive. You start to walk faster, almost pushing past Tim, to get to the bullpen. You suddenly stop short when your eyes fall on Tony’s desk.

Instead of finding your best friend seated at his desk or even finding his desk empty, you see that Tony’s desktop is covered with picture frames. Your curiosity wins out over the rising fear in your chest and you step closer to the desk to inspect the framed photos.

“Oh,” A breath of surprise leaves you as you realize that they were photos of you and of Tim, taken at different times in your relationship. A series of pictures of the two of you from your second date, taken in one of the photo kiosks that you find at the mall. The two of you making goofy faces at each other in the bullpen. You and Tim bent over a computer, faces serious as you both stare at the screen. You turn to Tim’s desk next, finding it filled with vases of flowers in your favorite color.

You move towards them, leaning down to inhale their fragrant scent, your gaze landing on your father’s desk and the photos scattered across the desktop, similar to Tony’s desk, except these were pictures you’d taken of the two of you. One of the pictures from your first trip together, from the date when Tim had told you he loved you, and the first case the two of you had worked on together and a series of selfies you’d taken with Tim at various times; all laid out like a timeline of your relationship.

After a few long moments, you lift your gaze towards Ziva’s desk, curiosity seizing you as you find her desk almost empty. You quickly make your way to the front of the desk, your eyes landing on the single piece of white paper, with only one small paragraph scrawled out in the middle of the page.

Y/N,

I love you and I have something I have wanted to tell you, or rather ask you, for a long time now. I know you’re probably wondering what that question is, so if you’d turn around, I’d like to ask you it.

You slowly turn around, the paper clutched to your chest and your heart racing in your chest as your eyes find Tim’s. He gives you a small, honest smile as he takes a step forward, his hands clasping around yours before he kneels down on one knee in front of you. Your breath catches in your throat as you realize what is happening.

“I’ve loved you for years. First, as a friend, and then as a boyfriend, and now...now I want to love you as your fiance, and eventually as your husband. Would you, Y/N Gibbs, do me the honor of being my wife?” In his hands is a modest red velvet ring box, a platinum band adorned with three small diamonds nestled on the inside of the open box.

A lump forms in your throat and as you try to speak, to say yes, nothing comes out. Instead, you nod your head vigorously and close the distance between the two of you. Tim stands fully just as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in against you. You vaguely register noise in the background, noise you later learn is from the various members of ‘your’ NCIS team, as you feel him kiss your cheek.  

“I love you.” You whisper softly before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, savoring in the feeling of his lips against yours.

“And I love you.” He gives you a deep kiss in return, leaning in to cup a hand along the back of your neck. After a moment, you pull back enough to smile widely at him, the realization that this man would become your husband, the man that you got to spend the rest of your life with, starts to dawn on you, filling you with elation and excitement, not only for your wedding but for the future you’d had with the man you loved.

Tagging:

@madamsnape921​ @ncisfan​ @thisiscalm-andits-doctor​

[sourholland]

A Royal Convenience || Tom Holland

| Series Masterlist |

Part Two

AN → You might all be wondering where I’ve been, I honestly just needed a bit of a break for my mental health! I’m sorry, I’ve missed taking to you all <3

Summary → When an alliance is made between England and France, you are sent away to marry the crown prince and heir to the British throne. Except both you and Prince Thomas despise each other at all odds, subjected to the hand of the monarchy and unable to stand each other.

Pairing(s) → Prince!Tom x Princess!Reader

Warnings → None

Word Count → 2.0k

“Could one of you run off and find out if my son is planning on gracing us all with his attendance.” Nicola’s voice was assertive, dripping with irritation at the Prince’s tardiness.

A man holding a closed box with an assortment of rings stood off to the side of the drawing-room. He was stiff, awkward even, in the presence of not only the Queen, but the Princess and future Queen of England. His eyes were trained on the freshly polished floors, clutching the velvet.

Behind you stood your newly introduced ladies in waiting, there were three: Lady Eloise, Lady Charlotte, and Lady Andrea. They were very young, pretty, and had very clearly come from aristocratic backgrounds. Each of them held a title, meaning they’d soon enough marry. You’d planned on meeting them for tea, but Queen Nicola figured it would be better to bring them in before you chose an engagement ring.

“Apologies, mum,” Tom came through the double doors, his hair skewed and his shirt disheveled. He bowed, taking a spot beside his mother and averting his eyes from you.

“Thomas, wonderful of you to join us,” she drawled. “Do begin, sir,” she said, motioning towards the man.

He opened the box a bit shakily, dozens of diamonds gleaming. They ranged from color to carrots of gold, each holding a different and more interesting background. You couldn’t help but to reach out and pick up one with a deep sapphire.

“That was once worn by the late Queen Elizabeth l,” he droned on, continuing to tell you about the long history of where the ring had come from and what it signified.

“What do you think, Thomas,” Nicola asked. She was practically beaming at each ring you slid onto your finger. Like no matter which one you chose, none would be the wrong choice.

“It is not I that will have to wear the dreadful thing,” he replied shortly. “Therefore, I should not be the person deciding which one she chooses, though I wish you’d quicken the pace a bit.”

“Since you’ve made it clear that you have no intention on weighing in on the decision, I ask you kindly, Prince Tom, to please refrain from commenting,” you quipped. He took a step back irritably, pulling at the collar of his undershirt.

You reached into the box once more, pulling out a large European cut diamond ring. The several diamonds displayed at the golden band left you lifting your hand, staring at your ring finger absentmindedly. It was classic, yet had too many diamonds to be considered simple. A royal staple, much like the tiara you’d eventually choose to wear on your wedding day.

“This one,” you said. “This is the one.”

The Queen drifted towards you, biting back excitement as she assessed the ring. It was clearly too large and would need to be sized, yet still had the same effect. She held it up as you had done, clutching your hand and motioning towards your ladies to come and look.

“That’s absolutely darling,” Charlotte mused.

“It’s stunning,” Andrea agreed.

The Prince soon enough took his leave, slipping out of the room before Nicola could notice his absence. She looked disappointed when she looked over and was met with an empty space where he’d just stood.

“He’ll come around soon enough,” she said, this was less reassuring to you and seemed more comforting for herself.

-

“Do tell me about yourself, Andrea,” you murmured on, arm in arm as you both perused the large gardens.

“Well there’s not much to know, miss,” she replied swiftly.

“Please, I wish you’d call me Y/N in private company,” you laughed a bit. “I’ve never had much of a thing for titles.”

“Her Majesty would simply chastise me.”

There were blooming flowers and the grass was slowly becoming more and more green. The air was a bit brisk, the cloak draped along your shoulders thinner than you’d like. The soft breeze felt nice, though. Andrea was simple looking, pulled back brown hair and a heart-shaped face. She explained that she was one of three girls, the third daughter of an earl.

“I must admit, I do wish we’d have met under different circumstances,” you mused, plucking a lily from the shrubs.

“I’m not sure what you mean, miss,” she looked over at you a bit sideways.

“I just mean—well under the circumstance that I wasn’t being pawned off on the Prince.”

You fumbled at your skirts for a moment, pressing at the fabrics of your afternoon dress. It was ivory, beautiful, really. Though, much different from anything you’d have worn in France.

“I’m sure His Royal Highness will be as pleased as everyone else once you are both wed.”

“That’s hard to believe,” you chuckled. “He has hardly said a word to me since I arrived in London.”

She looked nervous, like she was afraid to say the wrong thing. Her cheeks flushed lightly, the glint in her eyes a bit brighter. Andrea just looked over to you and gave a soft smile, as if to say everything would be alright.

“Do you think that Prince Thomas is handsome?” You asked, curious of her opinion. You watched her cheeks redden, an awkward laugh escaping her lips.

“That is not for me to judge, miss,” she answered almost immediately.

“No—but, I just want your opinion, do you think he is handsome?” You asked once again.

She hesitated for a moment, “yes, I think the Prince is certainly very handsome.”

You thought for a moment, of his brown hair that had been swept back and so carelessly skewed about earlier in the morning. The way his freckles scattered lightly across his nose like a constellation, you’d only known this from when he’d pulled you in so closely the night before. He wore his signet ring proudly, this amongst what looked like another ring with a crest on it.

“Yes, I suppose he is quite handsome. Though, if I’ve learned anything, it is that looks count for almost nothing when you’re forced to spend everyday with a person.”

-

The quiet clattering of silverware sounded throughout the large room, beside you sat Prince Tom. Down the table were the two older princes, assuming the youngest, Prince Patrick, was still too young. At the head of the table was King Dominic, at his right was Queen Nicola. Occupying the rest of the table was an assortment of dukes and duchesses, earls and ladies.

It had been too late to join everyone for dinner the night before, so tonight was the first time you’d been in everyone’s company. The room was large, grand even, gold trim and deep royal red walls filled with paintings dating back centuries. Candles burned while you ate, attempting to steal a glance at the Prince while he spoke with his brother Harry.

It had taken you weeks studying the British monarchy to completely grasp their political and traditional protocol. You had to learn who to curtsy to and who not to, and then in what order, how to determine the sovereign and whether or not to address someone with a title or not to.

“Tell us, Y/N, how are you finding England?” The Queen chimed, staring at you from her seat across the table.

“Well, ma’am—I haven’t seen much of it, I do hope to see more. It is far different from France, though.”

A quiet murmur spread across the table, “I’ve always found the French quite curious,” a duchess, whom you could not recall the name of, said lowly.

“Curiously dreadful,” Tom laughed to himself in a whisper you were sure only you could hear.

“I’m sorry?” You turned towards him, the sound of your cutlery against the plate louder than you’d liked. “I thought you said something, sir.”

The King looked up at you, the scornful way in which you looked at Tom, seething at his teasing words. You felt the heat in your face spread when you noticed an almost surprised look from a majority of the long and stretching table.

The rest of dinner you kept quiet, avoiding the looks from the prince at your side. He seemed quite bothered, you put your head down and braced yourself once the King stood. Once the King finished his meal, everyone else was finished as well. He stood soundly, the paleness of his skin off-putting, the deep purple crescents underneath his eyes prominent in the candlelight.

You stood with everyone else, retiring to your chambers in a fleeting moment once it was appropriate to get away. The long, narrow halls were ages older than you, the artwork clearly showing that. You recognized past monarchs, the kings and queens of the years earlier. The twists and turns reminded you of a labyrinth, easy to get lost in.

Once you reached the double doors to your chambers, you pulled at them quickly, shutting them behind you soundly and sinking against the wall. The room was still filled with burning candles, the servant at your vanity looking at you curiously.

She curtsied quickly, motioning you off of the floor in a maternal way. You said nothing, letting her help you slip out of the evening gown and undo the tight lacing of your corset. You breathed deeply as she slipped the white nightgown over your head and took down the silver pins from your hair.

“Are you alright, miss?” She asked, the look on her face a bit concerned.

“Yes, just tired,” you excused. “I can put myself to sleep, thank you.”

“Are you sure, miss? I really do not mind,” she trailed off as you waved her away laughing stiffly.

“I am sure, thank you, Anne.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, brushing through your hair as you sat. Anne had long left, the doors shut tightly and the guards posted at them for the night, however, you turned quickly at the sound of them creeping open.

“How thick in the head must you be?”

Prince Thomas.

“You should not be in here,” you warned. “It’s bad enough to be caught alone in the daytime without a chaperone, but at night—in my bedroom!” Your tone was sharp, your arms wrapping around yourself. His eyes scanned your bare ankles, the curve of your legs underneath the thin material.

“You need not be concerned about your virtue, not after what you decided to pull at dinner tonight, before mother and father! I mean seriously, it’s like you enjoy humiliating yourself in front of the whole family!”

His cheeks were flushed in anger, his eyes fixed on you. You hair was undone, your eyes stuck on him. The silence was deafening, the space between the both of you closing when you stood up and marched over to him.

“I have been here a day. A day! And you cannot allow me the luxury of my own chambers, parading in here like you were not the one who provoked me!” You rammed a finger into his chest, gaze not faltering as you looked up at him.

“I told mother, I told father. You are nothing but a child, a little girl with no clue what she’s getting herself into,” you flinched at his voice.

“I will be your wife—”

“You will be the Queen of England!” He shouted, “the way you acted tonight was not that of a queen, but an eighteen year old girl in way over her head.”

He grabbed the hand that had jabbed into his chest, skewing it to the side. “Do not forget yourself, Y/N. I can promise you this, if you cannot at least act like you have any idea what you’re doing, this engagement is off. I will not tarnish the name of my country, nor title or reputation for a French princess that I had no desire to wed in the first place.”

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[queenshelby]

Time for Change – Part Four

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 1,888

Notes: Not based on Cillian’s life. This is fiction guys! 

YOUR POV

It has been just over a week since you saw Cillian last and not one night went by during which you didn’t think about him and the incredible sex you had with him.

Whilst you had agreed that this was a going to be a one-night stand, you couldn’t help but fantasise about him over and over again.

Even when you were lying next to James who, two days ago, had returned from New York, you were thinking about Cillian’s body on top of yours and all the naughty things that he would do to you.

You wanted him, more than as a friend or casual lover. But you knew that, this was never going to be possible.

As far as James was concerned, you didn’t address his infidelity yet. You needed more proof and you desperately needed to see a lawyer to ensure that James couldn’t take Chloe away.

James and Chloe were both US citizens, but you were not and Chloe did not hold an Irish passport. You applied for one, but the Department of Immigration was taking a long time to process through the adoption papers. Chloe was adopted by you both when you lived in the US and Ireland was slow in recognising it. This meant that you were stuck with him for now if you wanted to remain in Ireland.

With that being the case, you ran into the problem of James wanting more from you than what you were willing to give. You knew that he was fucking at least one other woman and, therefore, you had no intention of being intimate with him. It disgusted you.

In the same vein, you had slept with another man, a man who was still on your mind and who had satisfied you more than James ever could, raising the stakes quite significantly.

You kept making excuses, telling him that you weren’t feeling well, had a stressful day or a headache. You hoped that, eventually, he would find someone else, perhaps even someone at his place of work.

CILLIAN’S POV

As for Cillian, he also had not spoken to Danielle about his intention to divorce. He struggled with the idea and the fact that he wouldn’t see his children every day if they separated.

Danielle had threatened to withhold the children many times over the past few years after endless allegations of affairs, none of which were true. She told him that, due to his line of work, she would seek full custody and he knew that she was likely going to be successful if he wasn’t home for several months at the time.

Her behaviour was relentless, even to the point where one of his old personal assistants had resigned due to her constant allegations.

Then, a year later, she went so far and shared her allegations and concerns with Cillian’s mother, causing Cillian to leave her for several months, which is when she made her threats real and withheld contact to his children until he came back to her.

In addition, his agent had advised him against moving forward with the separation until the next season of Peaky Blinders is released. In his mine, with nothing else being available for his followers to get their hands on, his separation would likely be dragged through the mud by the papers, making it more difficult for his career.

Cillian liked to stay out of the media as much as he could but, depending on where Danielle was to take this, this might not be possible and he started to weigh up his options.

Yet, he felt the same about the night you had shared. The images of you in bed with him drove him crazy and, whilst him and Danielle no longer were intimate, he felt guilty for sneaking into the bathroom almost every single night to masturbate with you on his mind.

Making a Date

To his surprise, at 8 o’clock on Thursday night, he received a text message from you, asking him whether he wanted to meet up with you and, of course, he did.

He was reluctant at first, knowing what was at stake and not knowing how far things would go when you met up again.  

He didn’t know what your intentions were and why you wanted to meet but, when you responded to his text message by asking whether you should get a hotel room, it became pretty clear to him that you were after intimacy.

Cillian was torn about it. It was cliché, that’s for sure. It even reminded him on a movie he had starred in a few years ago. But, the thought of being alone with you in a hotel room drove him crazy and his reasonable thought process came to a standstill.

‘Alright. Let’s meet at the Westin 5 o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I will book a room’ Cillian typed, before deleting it and then retyping it all again. He knew it was wrong, no matter how bad things were between him and Danielle.

Eventually, he decided to send it and you were quick to respond, agreeing to his proposed time and location.

The following day, you told James that you were meeting up with friends in town and might stay over at Emily’s house.

Cillian did the same and told Danielle that he was going out in Temple Bar with some of his friends and, whilst James didn’t mind and bought your excuse, Danielle was frustrated with Cillian for leaving her with the kids.

‘You better don’t come home drunk Cillian’ she growled angrily, causing Cillian to roll his eyes.

‘If I have too much, I will crash on my brother’s lounge’ he then responded, causing Danielle to huff and swear.

‘Seriously Danielle? You disappeared for a fucking week and you have a problem with me going out for one night?’ Cillian said, shaking his head before he slammed the door behind him.

The Hotel

‘Room 307. I left a key at reception’ Cillian texted as you were sitting in the back of the taxi.  

‘Can’t wait to see you. I didn’t bother wearing panties. I hope that is okay’ you texted back, teasing Cillian.

‘Good call. They would just have come off within minutes of you walking through the door’ he responded.

The texting went back and forth making you more and more excited. With each chime of your phone your pussy throbbed more and your ten-minute drive felt like it took forever and the short walk up to the hotel room was torture.

Your clit was so aroused that even the motion of your legs as you walked teased your pussy and made you just crave Cillian’s touch even more.

When you knocked on the door Cillian answered very quickly. He was wearing only a towel on his hips and you could see his freckle covered chest and the tops of his hips.

Quickly you entered and turned and locked the door behind you. You grabbed Cillian and kissed him passionately. As you did, moans escaped your mouth and you could feel Cillian's already hard cock press against you as his towel fell to the floor.

‘Fuck’ Cillian groaned as he saw you and, in one quick motion, he ripped your dress to the floor, kneeling in front of you as you stepped out of it. Without losing any time and before you could even have said hello to each other, Cillian pressed his face against your deliciously wet pussy and began to make circles around your clit with his tongue. He then slid one finger inside you and left it still.

‘Oh, fuck Cillian, please’ you begged as you craved more and moved your hip so that his finger teased you gently. Cillian then added a second finger and he curved them upward just slightly so that the tip of his fingers stroked your g-spot.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned, wanting even more. Your body began to shake and your legs began to weaken as you grew close to orgasm.

You leaned your back against the door to prevent yourself from crumbling to the floor. Cillian then began to suck on your clit and as he did you screamed out. Your legs shook and you had to grab a hold of the door handle to prevent yourself from falling to the ground.

‘Oh my god, I'm cumming’ you screamed with passion and lust in your voice.

Cillian kept teasing your pussy after waves of pleasure rolled through your body. You gained control of your balance again and became steady on your legs. You then grabbed Cillian by the shoulders and pulled him up to kiss him, tasting your juices on his lips and tongue.

‘Well, it’s good to see you’ he finally grinned as your lips drifted apart.

‘Now this Mr Murphy, was a nice welcome’ you said before kissing him again passionately.

‘Now it’s my turn’ you then said as you pushed him back towards a chair in the corner of the room and made him sit down.

Within seconds, you pushed his legs apart and went down on your knees in between them and took his cock in your mouth.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned as, first, you just lightly sucked on the tip of his cock, flicking your tongue on the tip.

This was something Danielle hadn’t done to him in a very long time and it didn’t take long for another small growl to come out to the back of Cillian's throat.

With this encouragement you took his entire cock into your mouth devouring all seven inches of his amazing cock. You deepthroated his cock starting off slowly and as you got quicker Cillian pulled your hair encouraging you to go faster and faster on his cock.

‘Jesus Y/N’ Cillian groaned as you tilted your head back to catch your breath and stood up.

After you gave Cillian another passionate kiss, you climbed on top of his lap, facing him and allowing him to play with and suck on your breasts while you lowered yourself onto his cock with a loud moan.  

You rode his cock slowly at first and worked up to speed, panting as your clit rubbed against his hips. You could feel your pleasure building inside you as you could feel yourself becoming ready to orgasm again. Cillian continued to play with your hard nipples until finally he slipped his hand between your legs and rubbed your clit in a circular motion. This sent you over the edge and you started cumming again.

‘Fuck, Y/N, that’s it’ Cillian groaned as your walls contracted around his hard cock, milking him and sending him over the edge as well.

You came in sync and could feel Cillian filling you with his warm cum, coating your walls and cervix as you rode out your orgasms.

‘That was amazing’ you huffed out eventually and Cillian kissed you again passionately.

‘I fucking needed this’ he chuckled after your lips drifted apart.

‘Me too’ you giggled. ‘So, are we going to make use of this amazing spa tub?’ you then asked as you slowly lifted yourself off Cillian, causing a large amount of his cum to leak out of you and onto Cillian’s lap.

‘I would say let’s have a bath, then order some room service and then have some more sex’ Cillian suggested.

‘Sounds like a fabulous idea’ you smiled.

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[huihuiheart]

Limit Break - Wonwoo

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Seventeen Masterlist

Pairing: Wonwoo x Female Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Summary: Part 2 of Limitless - Your relationship with Wonwoo has gotten more complicated since that fateful night, and you’re not sure how long your heart can take this for.

Warnings: Friends with benefits, mutual pining, things get muddied, cursing, emotional sex, crying during sex, dom/sub themes, both sides of dom Wonwoo, alcohol, drinking, bars, oral (f! recieving), protected sex.

Word Count: 2,137

Panting you watch with hooded eyes licking your lips, “Can’t you just fuck me now...or are you afraid you’ll cum before you can get two out of me?”

Wonwoo chuckles a little knowing your teasing is playful, before returning it as he crawls over your form leaving a small peck to your lips nipping at the bottom with a low growl.

“Oh, love....we’re just getting started.”

Sitting at the bar your focus was on the drink before you, not able to will yourself to look at the crowd again and see Wonwoo dancing with that other woman all over him. Junhui came up beside you and leaned against the bar.

“You don’t have to be here, you know. You don’t have to let him do this to you or be subjected to seeing it. Just say the word and I’ll take you home, nothing else needs to be said.” He offers seeing how much this seemed to weigh on you. 

You shake your head softly, “It’s fine, I’m the one who agreed to the arrangement anyways...I knew it might mean seeing him with other women. I just had hope...but now I need to face reality.” 

Junhui looks at you brows furrowed, “I still don’t know why you two agreed to that...you both like each other...why do a friends with benefits thing anyways. It’s not like you’ll stop being friends if you get together. You two are too close for that.”

You shrug slightly, “We have our reasons...it just apparently sucks more than I expected.”

Junhui hums, downing his drink before offering you his hand, “Come on.”

You look at him confused, “Jun, I said I was staying here. I’ll be fine, seriously.”

Junhui scoffs rolling his eyes at you, “First off, I know you aren’t fine. Secondly, we aren’t leaving. We’re going to remind Wonwoo that if he’s free to be with other people, so are you. We’ll see if he likes feeling the same way he makes you feel when he does this.” 

You’re a little uncertain as you take his hand, but you do it nonetheless looking between him and Wonwoo, “And what if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he just likes fucking me?”

“Well then consider this your chance to find out which it is. If he gets jealous and irritated and acts up, you know it’s emotions. If not then it’s just a fuck to him...though I doubt that’ll be the case.” Junhui insists, pulling you out to the dance floor. 

You couldn’t deny the logic to his words, or the curiosity it peaked in you. Sure, you weren’t over the feelings induced by seeing Wonwoo dance with another woman, but this could give you some of the answers that you were seeking. You weren’t going to hold anything back, but at the same time, you decided to ease into what you did while dancing with Junhui...on the off chance that Wonwoo did break you wanted to know just what it was that made him do that. 

It was only a matter of seconds before Wonwoo's eyes found yours, his gaze hardening as he watched you grind against Jun. Locking onto where Junhui’s hands held your hips he swore he saw red, forgetting about the girl he had been dancing with and heading straight for the two of you. 

“Come on Y/N. I think it’s time to leave.” Wonwoo tells you, holding his hand out to you glaring daggers in Jun’s direction. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes as you place your hand in his, letting Wonwoo lead you out and to his car. His hands gripping the wheel so tightly that his knuckles whiten. 

“What was that?” Wonwoo practically growls making your brows furrow.

“What do you mean? I was only dancing like you were.” You insist, shrugging softly and he scoffs. 

“Oh, so that’s what this is about, hm? You were jealous so you decided to try and make me jealous too.” Wonwoo's eyes are focused on the road, but you could tell they were swirling with clouds of anger and lust.

You shrug instead of vocalizing a response, not caring if it only further fueled the fire burning in Wonwoo to not know what your response was. Letting it fester inside him through the whole drive, brewing a storm you'd face when reaching your apartment, yet that didn't matter at this moment. Not to you anyway.

Wonwoo pulls up to your place, getting out and heading towards your door, grabbing the spare key you'd hidden by it that he knew about. He lets himself in, leaving the door open for you as well, only to press you against it the second you close it. His body radiating heat as it presses against yours keeping you pinned in place, while his head falls to nip at your throat with a soft growl.

“If you wanted me to yourself tonight you could have just said so, but no...you had to get me all worked up like this didn’t you?” The way you mewl his name when his tongue flicks over the sensitive area where his teeth just nipped at you only encourages Wonwoo, “Don’t worry sweetheart you’ll learn just what happens when you make me jealous.” 

He’s pulling back in a flurry of limbs, kisses, and clothing as he dragged you towards your bedroom. His patience wears thin due to the jealousy raging through his bones. So much more than he was expecting to feel seeing you dance with another man.

"Why would you go to him of all people when I was standing right there? you couldn't just ask me for what you wanted? you had to go and find it from someone else?" Wonwoo growls, laying you down on the bed. Crawling over your frame his eyes have darkened more than you've ever seen, desiring to show you that he can do better to you than anyone else could. That he was the only man you'd ever need. Something that he didn't think he should be feeling considering the arrangement between you two and yet here he was unable to do anything other than to have an almost primal urge to prove this to you. 

His lips captured yours before trailing lower until he rested between your legs, breath fanning hotly against your core as his eyes focused on your face. His tongue flicking over your clit and taking your breath away. Your head falling back, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure engulfs your senses. His mouth is always skilled at making you forget about anything else and escape to a world where it’s only the two of you. His lips gentle as they kiss over your folds, it is the only chance you’re going to get to catch your breath before he becomes impatient again. His tongue curls into you searching for as much of your taste as he can get. That same desire also encourages him to push you towards your orgasm, eager for anything and everything he can get from you. It came naturally to him too, for the both of you. You two clicked together, chemistry and passion blooming into a perfect and unmatched mix and yet you both still denied that it was the case. Even when it was as clear as day to anyone. 

Wonwoo effectively shutting those thoughts out for you by bringing your orgasm crashing over you. Drowning you in pleasure despite the way he tries to ride you through it all, only pulling away after and giving you a moment as you pant for air and attempt to recover. Going to retrieve a condom and returning to gently rub his hands over your thighs to calm you down further. Only the heated feeling of his large hands on your skin has the opposite effect, bringing up the emotions he had so easily pushed away before. Now though those feelings were too much and before you could register what was happening your cheeks were already stained with tears. Wonwoo’s eyes widen when he sees the tears, not knowing how to react to seeing you crying right now. 

  “Y/N? What is it? What’s wrong? Did I do something that hurt you?” Wonwoo’s thumbs brush away the tears on your cheeks, gently cradling your face in his palms. His eyes only leave your face long enough to search for any sign of what might be wrong. 

“Woo...I...I don’t think I can do this anymore.” Your emotions run amuck through you and screw with your voice. An anxious bout of hiccups setting in as you choke out the words.

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at you, “Okay. But just tell me why, please? What’s wrong? I don’t want to upset you anymore. I...I don’t want you to hate me or anything.”

“That’s just it Wonwoo...I can’t hate you. Even when you piss me the fuck off...even when I’m jealous of the fact that you’re going to other women. I just can’t fucking hate you!” You sniffle anger weaving in amidst the heartbreak, “ I’m in love with you Wonwoo. God, I love you so fucking much that even the thought of you with someone else makes my heart shatter...and yet I’ve had to watch that and act like I’ve been fine for months while you’re carrying on cluelessly...I can’t do it anymore though...if it happens one more time I don’t think I’ll be able to pick myself back up from it again.”

Wonwoo’s palms are firm as they continue to hold your face, despite the fear he had of your fragile state. He wanted to be sure you were looking at his face when he spoke though. Wanted to open the door to his soul for you. So that you wouldn’t have to worry about a thing after what he had to say.

“Then I won’t let it happen again.” Wonwoo promises, leaning down momentarily to let his lips kiss away your tears, “I’ve been suffering the same way...but had I know that you were in this state too I never would have let you suffer like this....Y/N I’m in love with you too...and I’m not just saying that to spare you from heartbreak. I’m saying that because tonight when I saw you with Jun it felt like I’d been hit by a truck. Like my soul was been stripped from my body as I watched you with him...with someone besides me...I thought I had no right to say anything at the time though because I thought I was the only one like this...the only one trying to project my feelings for you elsewhere so I wouldn’t have to feel the pain of you leaving without being mine again.” 

Your tears slowed as you listened to what Wonwoo had to say. It wasn’t able to heal your wounded heart so easily, but it was able to bring you some semblance of calm at this moment.

“Then what does that mean for us Wonwoo?” You question quietly, almost afraid to ask, still fearfully of what the outcome of all this might be.

“That means I want us to be more than friends with benefits. That means I want to date you Y/N. I want you to be the only one for me and for me to be the only one for you. Can we do that...or is it too late now?” He tries not to put you on the spot, however, your feelings are too important for him not to ask. He wants you to make the final decision, to be sure that whatever you want happens. He’s broken you too much at the point to be able to bear if he did it again, even if he hadn’t known before.

“It’s not too late Wonwoo...not yet.” You admit reaching up to cup his cheeks and bring him into a kiss. One with emotions long overdue to be revealed, admitting to each other what even words could not. Speaking a language that only the two of you could hear at this moment.  

Wonwoo only pulls away when he feels you working to undo his pants, his hands moving yours away gently, “I don’t think we should fuck tonight Y/N, not with the emotions right now.”

“Who said anything about fucking? No...I want you to make love to me Wonwoo...I want us to prove to each other that we’re really all the other person needs. Can we do that?” Your question is soft-spoken as you slowly reach out to work on the buttons of his shirt this time, knowing that might be at a better pace right now.

Wonwoo sucks in a break, shuddering at the thought as he helps you with his clothes until like you, he’s left in nothing. Reaching to grab the condom again.

“That we can do.”

[xbunnybunz]

Jealousy [Lelouch x Reader]

Summary: You love Zero, Lelouch loves you. Lelouch is Zero, and you are none the wiser.

Genre: Fluff, Angst

Date: August 10, 2014

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“S-sir?

A meek voice echoed through the storage room, seeking the leader of the black knights.

Lelouch blinked from behind his mask and looked away from some paperwork, wondering who had confronted him. Could it possibly be...? Yes. Of course it was.

There you stood, fiddling with your hair and cheeks tinged pink, avoiding eye contact with your leader. Yes, as much as Lelouch had tried to convince you otherwise,  you had become a member of the Black Knights. ‘The problem is that Lelouch had tried to tell her, and not “Zero”’ Lelouch thought, aggravated. Lelouch recalled a particularly bad day in school; his identity was almost revealed by a mere cat, and after he had expended his energy into chasing the rotten animal, he nearly fell off of the school roof. So when you told him about your intention to join the Black Knights, he was anything but happy. Perhaps he had taken it a tad too far, because he could still remember how bitterly you had reacted after he told you to “get a hold of yourself;” that “a dangerous job like being a Black Knight was not meant for delusional fangirls like yourself.” Looking back now, he wished he had just taken his anger elsewhere. “What do you know about me,  Lelouch?” You snarled, stepping away from him. “Just because you knew me since childhood doesn't mean that you can judge my feelings toward Zero! You have no right to call me delusional-” “-Yes I do!” Lelouch narrowed his violet eyes, glaring a hole into your skull, “How can you say you love him if you've never even met him before? You’re risking your life for someone who will reject your feelings!” He watched as you froze and cast your eyes downward, red flooded your cheeks. “Yeah, Lelouch, is that what you think? That he's going to reject my feelings?” You ask, looking up at him, eyes shining with sorrow. “Well, that’s alright. He wouldn’t be the first time I was rejected, right?” Lelouch’s eyes widened slightly in disbelief; were you still hung up about that? "I'll be going now." You say, turning away from him. He wanted to reach out and stop you, but he didn't. He couldn't. He could lead an army and take down several nightmares with a single command, but he didn’t have the fortitude to stop a girl from leaving a room. Pathetic. Footsteps. Door. "Click." Then silence. Lelouch heaved a small sigh behind his mask and turned his body to face you. "What is it, soldier?" You winced at his words and shifted uncomfortably, pink turning to red on your cheeks "W-well, sir, I've been wondering about something..." Lelouch's purple eyes watched your face turn varying shades of red, scowling. Why didn't you act this way around him at school? Why did you blush and fidget in front of him now, when he was under a different name and a different life? Was the normal Lelouch missing something?! No… You had done this, but not anymore. Lelouch was touched. You had fallen for him twice, if that wasn’t love, then he didn’t know what was. Regrettably, he couldn’t accept your feelings, especially not here- not with this side of him. "Uhm..." You diverted your gaze from him, instead deciding to stare at an empty crate. "I've been wondering why you call me 'soldier' all the time, sir." Lelouch raised an eyebrow, which you couldn't see, of course. "Are implying that you not one of my loyal soldiers?" You quickly scrambled to defend yourself, "N-no sir! It's just that... That you call the other Black Knights by their real names, and- and-" You bit your lip and looked down at your shoes, feeling quite stupid for bringing up such a mundane question. "I'm sorry, sir. Never mind." Your cheeks were lit aflame. You were talking to Zero one-on-one at last, but you had only made a fool of yourself. Why would he call you soldier? Because you were a soldier, of course! Such idiotic questions... What kind of answer were you anticipating? "And you?" You blinked stupidly, taken by surprise. "Huh? Me?" Zero continued, standing up and leaning against a large crate next to him.  "Why do you call me 'sir,' and not Zero?" He recalled how you said Zero's name in his presence at school. You spoke it with awe, respect, and sometimes, to his chagrin: love. The name "Zero" never failed to pull compliments and praises from your lips- and although Lelouch should have been feeling pretty darn good about that- dammit all! That was not how it was supposed to be! You were supposed to love him, Lelouch! Not his alter-ego! He watched as you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, tempting him to claim those lips as his. How long has he been waiting for a kiss from you? A week? A month? A year? Goodness, who knew? He lost count a long time ago. Ever since he had declinced your romantic advancements in school, he found himself getting interested in you as well- a bit more than he was comfortable with. However, as anyone who was rejected would do, you were slowly getting over Lelouch. Unfortunately for the boy, your confesion had only ignited his interest in you- and it was swallowing him whole. What had caused your fondness of him? Why would you approach him about such a trivial topic? You couldn’t have found out about his true identity, right? At first, it was just these factual questions; nothing that would harm anyone. But in due time, he began wondering how you would react in certain situations. What would she do if I told her that I liked her as well? How would she react if I hugged her? Held her hand? Kissed her? Soon, he found himself thinking of you whenever he was able to; whether it be in class, while doing his homework, or during Student Council meetings. His curiosity had developed into a near obsession- or dare he say, an attraction. Lelouch had managed to suppress thoughts of you while he was with the Black Knights, and thank goodness for that. He couldn’t imagine the chaos that would ensue if you managed to worm your way into his mind, then. But now… There you stood, twiddling your fingers and chewing your goddamn lip in front of him. Lelouch couldn’t deny it. He wanted you, and he always got what he wanted… Just not like this. He didn’t want it like this. He couldn’t have you interferring with his plans to destroy Britannia, and he definitely didn’t want you to love Zero. In order to prevent any kind of intimacy between you and his alter-ego, he began referring to you as “soldier” instead of by your name. But damn it all to hell if it worked, because it didn’t. Each time he called you “soldier”and you called him “sir,” the tension between you two would double, and triple, and exponentially rise, driving him to the brink of absolute madness. You distanced yourself from Lelouch at school, and he knew that you were trying your best not to make things awkward between the two of you- he knew that you were trying to move on, but the more you pulled away from him, the less he wanted to let go. What was there to move on from, if he loved you back? Before he had a chance to recalculate his relationship with you, you had managed to slip out of his grasp… And right back in. Unbeknownst to you, you had fallen head-over heels for the same person twice. But this time, oh, this time, it was so much stronger. Your feelings of love, admiration and respect had mixed into one unidentifiable goop of emotion that was directed toward the leader of the Black Knights. And as if the world wasn't enough of a paradox, Lelouch found himself jealous of… Himself. His geass couldn’t help him here. He had sat down one day, completely weighed down by your flurry of emotions as well as his own. He was desperate for the tensions between you two to stop, and although he was ashamed of it now, he had written out a list of commands he could use to make you love him, and not Zero. Of course, it was in vain. He was Zero, and Zero was him. They were one and the same person, no matter how much Lelouch wished it wasn’t true. A single command would either make you hate Lelouch and Zero, or worse- love both at the same time. In the past month, Lelouch’s jumbled thoughts brewed faster and faster inside of his mind, whipping up into a horrible storm, and he had no one else to blame but you. What in the hell had you done to him? “That-” You say, yanking him out of his exasperating thoughts, “That would be inappropriate.” Lelouch took a moment to recollect his thoughts. Oh, right. He had asked you a question. “Tell me,” He said, his voice coming out raspily from behind his mask, “What makes you think that calling me ‘Zero’ would be inappropriate?” “W-well,” You stuttered, “I’ve only known you for a year, sir.” “A lot of things aren’t necessarily appropriate, are they?” Lelouch asked, ignoring your answer, “Because of their morals, humans cage themselves into a dead end. Wouldn't it be easier to forget them all and break free?” Break free… “I guess so…” You mumble, looking at your shoes modestly. “_______,” Lelouch tasted your name on his tongue, enjoying the sweet, yet acerbic taste it left in his mouth, “You say you’ve known me, Zero, for a year, correct?” You answered, surprised that he even knew your name. “Yes, sir- Erm, Zero…” You blushed upon saying the name, much to Lelouch’s distaste. He ignored it. That’s all that he could do, for now. Suddenly, you heard a loud “BAM!” The sound was harsh, and it grated upon your ears, echoing within the closed space that both Zero and you had occupied. You flinched and closed your eyes, preparing for the worst. When nothing came, you pried your eyes open, stunned to see one of Zero’s arms against the wall next to you, caging your body with his. With his other hand, he calmly pressed a button on the side of his mask. You stood, bewildered and astonished as you heard the whirring of gears, signalling the retraction of the back of his mask. “Z-Zero- what are you-!” “Humor me, _______.” He cut you off,  “Is one year enough time to fall in love?” Because I've known you my whole life... “O-one year… One year can do a lot…” You gulped, watching as Zero adjusted his mask to show his mouth. “Then, hell.” He whispered, leaning into your lips, “I must be completely infatuated.”