#i’m fine but also i’ve never been more insulted in my entire life

[starbuck]

lord give me the strength to not be a massive cunt at work today

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Please tell me if this question is too intrusive and you don’t want to answer, or if I’ve phrased it poorly.

What makes you see Dabi as the sub/switch, and Tomura as the top in their dynamic and in other dynamics they are in? I’m curious what parts of their characterisation led you to seeing them in this way.

So first off, I'm always going to apply sub/dom dynamics to everything because that's what interests me the most in regards to sex so one of them was going to get assigned a role no matter what!

Shigaraki has been groomed to wanting to be in control/have power his entire life, is incredibly self-assured without the need for validation from outside sources, he has no shame and doesn't even seem capable of feeling embarrassment, he isn't burdened by taking command of others and instead takes to that role readily and is willing to make sure that the people who have put their trust in him and followed him are taken care of first and foremost. To me, all of those aspects led to him being a solid choice to be a dom. Additionally, I noticed a lot of sub!Shigaraki content that already existed that focused on his earliest appearances in the show and manga that were reliant on him being a spoiled brat who was getting put in his place or was a blushing fumbling virgin because of his perceived lack of social skils, all of that is totally fine and a solid interpretation of his character, but I personally did not find that appealing and wanted to focus on the other layers of his personality that come into play post-Kamino.

As for Dabi, he has a massive superiority complex after being told in his early life he would be amazing and then developed an even bigger inferiority complex when he wasn't able to live up to those expectations. He desperately craves validation in the form of the entire world being forced to see him and the wrong that was done to him and his desire to get his revenge on a public stage so that he can feel seen after being unjustly tossed aside. He is a hard worker and overachiever, even when he doesn't care for the person who is giving him the order because of his desperate need to feel useful and like he is moving towards his goals as seen when he is the 'only person doing his job' pre-My Villain Academia. He has limited social skills, as seen in the SNAP comic, where Magne tries to flirt with him only to have it go completely over his head. He is extremely emotional and feels things deeply, which makes him much more volatile than his early-series 'cool guy' persona suggests. With all of that in mind, I headcanon him as a switch because I think that in a dynamic with someone he would resent having power over him (for example, Hawks), he would not want to give that person power over him in the form of submitting to them in the bedroom and he would push to show he was 'better' than them by being the dominant partner. I also think his volatile emotions and tendency to react to even the smallest insult with immolation would make him a very dangerous person to be in a dominant position because he could be more prone to letting a scene go too far or pushing a boundary to assure himself that he is the one in control, something that would get worse the more out of control he gets.

However, specifically in a dynamic with Shigaraki, he would be much, much happier in the role of sub. Shigaraki is someone he already submits to in the form of following him, and he knows that Shigaraki trusts him because Shig never makes him do anything he doesn't want to and let's Dabi have his secrets and go off and do whatever he feels he needs to even if it means he might not be around when the League needs him. Shigaraki recognizes his abilities and gives him command in his stead very early on into their relationship, which would assure him that he sees the value in his existence. All of those things would make it easier for him to submit in the bedroom, and I headcanon that being a relieving experience for him because it offers him a chance to let himself feel his emotions so intensely in a safe space where he knows that no mater what goes right or wrong , he's not going to be abandoned again. His dom will take care of him. He'll keep loving him even if he breaks, and then he'll stick around to put him back together, and he knows that Shigaraki is one of the few people in the world, especially by the PLF arc, that can actually handle him at his absolutely worse and stop him if he needs be.

This isn't an inappropriate question as long as no one tries to harass me into changing my mind or writing their dynamic differently (again 😒). You don't have to agree with me, but this is my blog and how I will continue to discuss and portray their characters!

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting back into gardening?

There’s a story to this I swear I swear.

So. My friend got introduced to the game Omori! I’ve been a fan since it was in development and have been slowly trying to convince them to play the game to have brainrot with me.

And, like many people, my friend grew to love the character Basil when they played it. He’s a shy, sweet boy who loves plants.

My friend has now entirely changed themselves and acts as if they are pretending to be Basil in real life. They bought new outfits that mimic the ones he wears, they’ve suddenly started growing plants, etc. it’s very strange.

This is totally fine may I add! Baffling, but it’s not hurting anyone and I am actually very happy for them if this is genuinely how they want to express themselves. What is not okay is how they’re… trying to stop me enjoying gardening..?

I love plants and after a longwinded medical issue, I’m feeling less shitty I’m back into it actively. I have a thriving aloe vera with babies, cacti, succulents, a fig tree, apple tree, pear tree, herbs, raspberry bush, blackberry bush, loganberry bush, tomatoes, potatoes, etc etc. you get the picture. I really love plants! And I decided since I’ve been feeling better, hey, why not plant some new stuff too? So I’ve got some sprouts of various plants growing.

As I enjoy plants and they also do, I figured it’s a good common thing to bond over! I thought since they were a beginner I could help them when they got stuck or needed advice. So I’ve been talking to them a lot about their plants, offering some stuff to them when I harvest it, like strawberries and raspberries and apples, etc. and also being a generally open person if they need advice.

I have discovered over the past month or three that it seems my friend can not keep a plant alive to save his own skin. It’s okay, he’s new to it, plants die, it’s life. But when I offer some help (eg: “take some of my flower food, it will really help you get more blossoms when the time comes,” “you need to prune this part, it’s dead and it will spread to the rest of the plant”) he acts like I’m speaking down to him or insulting him. And he keeps killing plants.

Eventually I actually got upset with the amount of plants he was killing. They are living things and deserve a fighting chance, just like any person or animal does. There is no reason not to treat a spider plant with the same care you would a tree. So I was like hey if you want I can help you set up a watering schedule / help you find out which plants need more shade or more sun and stuff so you can keep them alive longer and he just blew up at me. I’m talking like screaming that he knew what he was doing and it’s NORMAL for plants to die and i “didn’t even care about plants until [I] started so why are you copying?!” It threw me for a loop and actually made me cry because you know… I don’t like getting yelled at lmao. After I cried a little bit I told him that I wasn’t going to talk to him until he apologises for treating me like that because it was uncalled for and really hurtful, I was only trying to help him with his hobby so we could talk about plants together and maybe share some propagated sprouts or something when his plants were old enough. He complained about me online for about a week but no one really listened because it’s very common knowledge I’ve been gardening since I was literally about four years old. He’s since stopped complaining about it but still refuses to apologise.

I’m worried that I might have been an asshole by offering my advice and help? I never pushed it onto him or anything, just offered helpful tidbits and gave him some plant food once, but he might have taken it in a different way than how I meant it.

AITA?

~🌿

What are these acronyms?

[hyacinth-sims]

Il mio raggio di sole

Summary: A Mercutio Monty character study. Often seen as the jokester who is second in line to the Monty throne, many don’t know what lurks beneath the surface.

Warning: Vague descriptions of death, SAAAAAD :(

Pairings: None, Even more vaguely implied past Tybalt Capp/Mercutio Monty, Past Consort Capp/Patrizio Monty

Word Count: 1.8k

Author’s Note: I really didn’t know if this one would be as sad as Tybalt’s but I think it is, oops! I’m also amazed at the fact that Mercutio’s character study and Tybalt’s are almost the exact same length, maybe give or take 5-10 words. While I feel like I’ve always “gotten” Tybalt, Mercutio was a bit more of a challenge but I feel like I really learned a lot about what I think of him through writing this 😁 Also if you have any one shot ideas (preferably VV/Tycutio) for me, feel free to send them! I’ve had so much fun with my current iterations of Tybalt and Mercutio (does that make me a sadist?) and I’m excited to see how they’ll interact with each other. 

There were a few important facts about Mercutio Monty. He spoke English and Italian fluently but mostly kept the Italian within the family. He wanted to master the electric guitar before the age of 25 and the acoustic guitar before 28. His favorite food was calamari with a spritz of lemon juice. All of the romantic poetry he’d written in his literature classes wasn’t actually about anyone but rather some cool bugs he’d seen outside of his house. He liked tall men and women of any height and liked it if both looked as if they could kick his ass. He’d only let his hair be as short as just beneath the chin and as long as his collarbone. And most importantly, he never wanted to be the Monty heir. 

He was fine with letting that responsibility fall onto his younger brother, Romeo, who seemed rather excited to one day lead the family. Mercutio, on the other hand, couldn’t imagine being tied to Veronaville for the rest of his life. He wanted to see what else was out there for him, past the rolling hills, dividing rivers, and the feud that hung over his hometown like a dark cloud. 

It would be impossible to talk about himself and his life without mentioning ‘the feud,’ as it was aptly yet uncreatively called. It started long before he was born, and much as he wanted to believe otherwise—it would likely continue on past his death. Mercutio never wanted any part in it, but it seems as though his pure existence as a member of the Monty family was enough to be involved. Of course, he would defend his family when insulted, but the entire thing was just stupid. 

It initially started generations ago over a geographical dispute; both families wanted to claim the lands by the river as their own. Clearly, it was never resolved because it only gave way to more violence and more death. The current iteration of the feud began with his Nonno and Consort Capp on the other side of town. What was interesting, though, was the fact Consort was not born a Capp. They were matriarchal on their side of town, and the feud started before Consort even married into the family. Supposedly, it was due to their shared business going under, but plot twist—Nonno was actually dating Contessa Capp, and Consort had stolen her from right under his nose. That’s not all, though, double plot twist! Consort and Nonno had actually been a thing before the entire thing with Contessa happened. Nobody else knew about this except for Mercutio and the eldest generation, of course. He really had no idea who he’d tell or if it was worth talking about at all. 

Even after this, though, there were ebbs and flows of the feud. The most peaceful the town had been in a long while had been during his childhood. There were no fights in the streets, no murmured threats, and even some positive interactions were had between the Montys and Capps. His parents often encouraged the latter, allowing their children to have playdates with the Capp children on occasion and rebuking Nonno and Nonna’s disapproval of it. His father had even been childhood friends with Cordelia Capp, the heiress before her untimely death. 

He recalled times on the playground as children, hitting each other with foam swords and playing pretend—as if they were the Capp and Monty heiress and heir, respectively, in 1600s Veronaville. 

Things had seemed to be on an upward path throughout his early years, with his father on the Monty side and Cordelia on the Capp side. Neither of them was interested in continuing the feud, and there were even talks of peace in the future. It all seemed too good to be true, and it turned out to be just that. There was a fire in their home, and the kids had managed to escape without any scratches somehow—but Cordelia and Caliban had not been so lucky. 

Mercutio was 12 years old when this happened, and he wanted to attend the funeral. He knew Cordelia and Caliban; they had never been anything but nice to him. He wanted to show his support and make sure that the Capp siblings were okay. His parents were both wrecks; leaving the house seemed nearly impossible for them. His Nonno yelled at him for even thinking of such a thing.

He wasn’t able to go to the funeral. 

There were whispers on the other side of town that the fire was deliberately caused by a member of the Monty family. Mercutio never wanted to imagine that someone he was related to was capable of something like that. Whether or not they were true, they had brought back the feud in full force. Friends he thought he’d made had become strangers again, and the town had become more divided than ever. 

It caused a particularly bad falling out, one that had yet to be topped. Childhood crushes should never be affected by adult problems, but the feud seemed to truly want to take over every aspect of his life. 

His parents were never quite the same after the fire. His mother was becoming heavily pregnant, but she was also growing sicker. She was bedridden most days and often in too much pain to even speak to Mercutio. There was a feeling of impending doom that hung over their home; they all knew that something bad was going to come eventually.

Mercutio found her. She was still in bed, but she no longer looked in pain. For the first time in months, she looked at peace, but he still had tried his hardest to wake her up. 

Olivia Monty had passed away during the night. The doctors said it was due to something called eclampsia, something she had never discussed with her children before. Everyone was too distraught to plan a proper funeral for her, especially his father. Mercutio did not know the man his father had become during his last 6 months of life. He was withdrawn, solemn, as if he had lost his will to live the day his wife had died.

Claudio Monty passed away exactly half a year after his wife. They called it broken heart syndrome—it seems even his body didn’t have much of a reason to go on either. Mercutio was lucky to have not been the one to find him, but he’ll never forget the wails of his grandmother as she begged for him to come back. 

The funeral was one for both his mother and father. There was no burial or casket, and his father had wanted to be cremated alongside his mother. He made that very clear before his death. It was a quiet affair inside his grandparent's home, and he’d chosen to block out most of his memories of it except for one. 

His nonno had pulled him aside as his brother and sister cried and cried. He’d told him that while he was taking them in now, he and Nonna would not be there forever. As the oldest, it was now Mercutio’s responsibility to look out for his younger siblings. He needed to guide them, to protect them, to lead them through the dark and uncertainty of what life would bring now.  

So Mercutio stood by them as they cried, his face unwavering as he tried to be the image of strength and resilience. Ever since that day, he had cried only maybe twice more in his life. His grandparents never seemed to be too concerned with his well-being, taking his positive attitude at face value. It was as if they had forgotten that Mercutio was the one to find his mother dead, not Romeo or Viola. 

Nonna would call him il mio raggio di sole, her ray of sunshine. She said their home wouldn’t be as bright without him, as he brought the light into what became a deeply dark period of time for them. It was at that very moment that Mercutio knew what he was born for. Romeo was born to be the heir, to become the leader of their family and take up that responsibility. Viola was born to be doted on, the youngest girl with two older brothers with a coy smile and a face identical to their mother’s.

Mercutio was born to keep everyone happy. He was born to pretend that he was fine, that if he could be nothing but jokes and laughter after such a tragedy—maybe the rest of the family could heal as well. But as with many things in Veronaville, it was all a facade.

More often than not, Mercutio couldn’t get the image of his deceased mother out of his head. He wanted to yell at the urns of his mother and father, asking just why they couldn’t hold on for their children. Why his mother couldn’t take better care of herself during her pregnancy, why his father couldn’t have found a will to live through his struggling kids, just why, why, why. 

He never spoke about his parents, not to anybody. He knew he’d fall apart if their names left his lips. He never wanted to be that vulnerable, he never wanted to cry, and he never wanted to show that side of him to anyone. 

Mercutio wrote love poems about bugs. He wrote a sonnet about an orchid mantis on the blooming flowers in their garden. A haiku about a ladybug that had made its way onto the dashboard of his car. A ballad about a butterfly that had fluttered around his head for what felt like a lifetime. It was easier to lie, to lie and say he was letting his guard down through the writing he submitted to his literature teacher. 

He kept everything that was real locked away inside a leather-bound journal, which was gifted to him by his Nonna after his report card showed an A- in Literature. He wrote about death, despair, hopelessness, depression, about how he really felt. He wrote about love, about what it would mean to let someone fully in, about freedom, about escaping this hell hole that threatened to destroy him before he could graduate. The leather-bound journal held the key to his very soul, and he would never let anyone see the inside of it. 

Not now, anyway. 

[livebeginning]

Whoops here's more about my boy Mio, from my fic Pretty Little Pet where I ship him with Raphael! Some thoughts on:

Mio’s name

Raphael and Haarlep (specifically their relationship in my fic)

Mio and Haarlep

Mio’s name

When Raphael asks him what to call him he says “Whatever you want”. And when others ask who he is, he says that he’s Raphael’s pet. So, Mio hasn’t told anyone his name. This isn’t intentional btw, Mio isn’t aware of this.

Raphael only ever calls him “pet” and Haarlep calls him by various nicknames, eventually settling on “kitten”.

I think the contract Raphael made with Mio’s parents doesn’t mention his name, only referring to him by “first born child” because then the contract still works even if Mio changed his name.

All of this means (and I’m not sure yet if I’m making this canon) that it’s entirely possible Raphael doesn’t know Mio’s name. And Mio doesn’t know that Raphael doesn’t know. I just think that’s funny ^^’

I got the name from Astrid Lindgren’s “Mio, my son”, I never read the book but I watched the movie as a kid and just liked the name.

Raphael and Haarlep

(This is specifically about Raphael and Haarlep’s relationship within my fic, not necessarily an interpretation of canon, although I’ve tried to keep it canon compliant.)

When Raphael first received Haarlep he binds them to secrecy with a contract or spell. He still suspects that Haarlep might find a way to tell Mephsitopheles things so he takes care not to let them know anything he wouldn’t want Mephisto to know. (He doesn’t know that Haarlep isn’t there to spy on him, they were literally just sent to distract him from some scheme of his that was getting on Mephisto’s nerves.)

Raphael uses them for sex, which suits Haarlep fine. At some point they both figure out that Raphael is a total sub and while Raphael denies this at first because he’s embarrassed, he eventually accepts it, convincing himself that it’s only because he’s always in charge during his day-to-day life, so of course reversing roles during sex would be a good outlet and let him relax (and yes, that’s part of it, but he also just enjoys being submissive). Haarlep doesn’t actually care about Raphael being a sub and doesn’t think anyone else would either. And while this secret getting out wouldn’t ruin Raphael, it would still embarrass him.

They’ve been together for centuries, Haarlep probably knows Raphael better than anyone else. They’ve been having sex together for so long they’ve become bored of each other. While Raphael has sex with other people as well, he doesn’t want him being submissive to get out, so he keeps it pretty vanilla with other partners and doesn’t have any long term sexual relationships. This means that Haarlep is the only person who can fulfill his needs for when he wants to be submissive. He lets/makes Haarlep dom him all the time, they don’t really have any other kind of sex anymore, even though Haarlep would like to switch it up sometimes.

Haarlep can sometimes really get on Raphael’s nerves, but he can’t easily get rid of them because they were a gift and releasing or killing them would be considered an insult. While he doesn’t really care about what his father thinks of him, killing Haarlep isn’t worth finding out what Mephisto would do in retaliation. Haarlep knows this and likes to push the boundaries, Raphael will punish them if they go too far but sometimes, punishment is better than boredom. 

Boredom is really Haarlep’s biggest problem. As a personal incubus they’ve got it pretty good as far as possible positions for succubi/incubi go. They have at some point convinced Raphael to let other people have sex with them as well, as Raphael didn’t use them often enough and they need at least some “sex energy” to stay healthy, if not alive.

Raphael made them take his form when he was much younger, so that’s why Haarlep looks slightly different from him. Raphael makes them have sex with people who want to fuck him as part of their contract (he words the contract in such a way that it doesn’t actually have to be him). Also the thing where the people whose form they have taken can feel what they feel is something they can turn on and off at will.

Mio and Haarlep

Haarlep doesn’t really care about Mio at first. Raphael will often play around with mortals for a few weeks or months before he loses interest and they disappear. They still like to tease and play with Mio and are a bit annoyed that they aren’t allowed to touch (or have sex with) him. They don’t break this rule because they would be punished too and they would rather keep playing with Mio.

Mio doesn’t really know what to make of Haarlep either. He knows they’re teasing him but at least they aren’t outright mean to him. They are also one of the few people in the HoH, aside from Raphael, he can have any kind of longer conversation with. Mio thinks of Haarlep as a kind of coworker, one who’s been working the job for ages and can be asked for advice, although they might not necessarily help him.

Things change a bit when Mio starts having sex with Raphael. Haarlep is pretty glad to have someone else to take care of Raphael’s sexual needs and give them a bit of a break. Which means they now have an interest in keeping Mio around and at least happy and healthy enough so he can keep Raphael satisfied enough in bed.

Raphael is pretty busy with work (writing fanfiction, stalking finding potential clients, torturing unfortunate souls, etc.) and doesn’t have time to keep either Haarlep or Mio entertained. Which ends up with them spending a lot of time together just talking, playing lanceboard or Haarlep teaching Mio a few tricks to use in the bedroom.

So, while Mio and Haarlep aren’t necessarily friends, they get along pretty well, keep each other company while Raphael doesn’t need them and Haarlep wants Mio to stick around as long as possible so he doesn’t have to visit Raphael’s bed as often anymore.

___

I've also already written 1.5k about Mio, sex and bdsm but that's for another post!!

[unlikelyphantombread]

Before the Morning

CHAPTER 2 - The Disastrous Dinner WORD COUNT: 3664 Words Wattpad: @screamingcamren

Chloe Isabella Stalin @ItsYoMainBitch Apparently, Ella Robinson spilled that having sex with Lauren Jauregui is like having a sex with a dead person. Stoic. No thrill. Boring. And guess what, folks? Ella didn't stop there. She also revealed that vibrator and a fake dick can make her orgasm more than Lauren can. Yikes! Vanilla person spotted! Lucky for her her savior who's name rhymes with Camila Cabello will be throwing her a "All hot boyz" party tonight! If you want to see Georgina and I then you know where to find us. #UselessDickGirl Kisses. 22,646 likes, 21, 543 reblog

"I knew it! I fucking knew it! Ella is Camila's posse!"

Normani laugh, "Shocker! I know it hurts but you'll get over it soon."

I rolled my eyes, "You are the best dick I've ever tasted, Lauren! Oh god! You are so good it makes me go crazy. Proceeds on orgasming 100 times every time. That doesn't sound like a boring sex to me.

"Fun tip: Next time don't fuck Camila's posse."

My eyes keeps wandering around the computer room thinking how can I get back from the embarrassment Camila caused to me.

This won't sit on me. I need revenge. I need my damn payback.

And then my eyes landed on the computer screen in front of me and smirk quickly formed on my lips.

"I know that smirk, you fucking vanilla."

I glare at Normani and she laugh, "Stop calling me vanilla!"

Since the accessibility in this computer is limited I do my computer whiz talent and crack up a few codes before I'm able to access the greatest site of all time.

Pornhub.

I type Latina brown eyes in the search bar and a lot of videos pop up. I started scrolling through each videos looking for a girl that looks exactly like Camila or somewhat close to her appearance.

"Does this look like her?" I asked my best friend as we watch the 4 foot Latina girl being fucked hard by some random white boy.

Thank god we're sitting at the very back.

"She doesn't look nowhere like Camila. And Lauren," Normani pause the video and look at me, "Are you seriously going to spread Camila's fake sex tape video?"

"I've never been this sure my whole life, Mani."

"This is so low."

"Be it lowerst, I don't care. I'm still doing this."

"Lowest, Lauren." Normani corrected.

"Whatever!" I dismissed her, "She insulted my S game, Mani! And my dick is hurt badly! I need to avenge it or else I'll lose sleep."

I snatch the mouse from Mani's hand and continue scrolling through thousands of porn videos.

"Cause maybe it is?"

I stopped and gave Mani a disbelief look, "How dare you! Look, the only reason I got bad reviews in bed is because Ella is one of Camila's tentacles. And I don't take bad reviews very well."

"I don't think that's a good idea. Look, I know it will hurt you so much hearing this but I'll say it anyway. Camila's a smart ass bitch. If you threw her a bomb her first instinct is not to run but to defuse the damn bomb."

Smirk shoot across my face the moment I found a video that looks similarly like Camila.

"Payback's a bitch, bitch!"

I immediately signed in my account, which is premium membership by the way, and downloaded the video.

Normani laughing the entire time.

She gets up from her seat and grab her stuff, "I love the fact that your brain is actually working on this but sleeping during classes."

So that's why she gets up from her seat quickly because she's about to roast the shit out of me.

"Come here you fucker!" I try to reach Normani but she quickly dodge it and run away while laughing.

"We'll post that shit together! Don't you dare do it without me!"

"Fine! Whatever!"

I connected my phone to the computer to transfer the video and then deleted it before I grab my stuff and walk out of the computer room.

I headed to the smaller building of West High where Ally's department is aka the elementary department to fetch my sister. She's a 5th grader and I'm gonna say my sister is the most genius shit ever. And suddenly I can hear Normani's "What happened to you?" monologue speech in my ears.

That idiot.

Little kids like Ally are scattered around the place. Others are playing while some are waiting for their fetchers. I found my sister playing with her two best friend Sofia and Maggie.

"Hey, cupcakes!"

"Lolo!" Taylor immediately stand  up and gave me a hug.

"Hi, Lolo!" The other two little cute girls greeted.

"Sup, Maggie and Sofi! Your fetcher's not here yet?"

"Kaki's probably still in her dance practice."

I furrowed my eyebrows, confused whether they're talking about their brother or sister.

Taylor seemed to understand my confused face. "They're referring to their big sister."

"Oh," I chuckled, "So your sister's a dancer, huh? Sophomore?"

"Kaki's a senior." Maggie answered.

"Great! So we're both senior then. What's her name? I might know who your Kaki is."

"Her name's C—"

My phone suddenly rings interrupting the beautiful Sofia from talking.

"Hold that thought," I told her as I pulled my phone out from my pocket. It was mom calling.

"Hey, mom." I greeted.

"Where are you?"

"Still in school. I just fetched Taylor."

"Go home now and help me prepare for dinner."

"Got it! We'll be home soon."

"Okay, drive safe. Love you!"

"Love you too, mom." I ended the call and slip my phone back to my pocket.

"We really need to go ladies. We'll chat next time, yeah?" I gave the two little girls a hug before I swing Taylor's bag pack on my shoulder.

"Babye Maggie and Sofi!"

The three of them shared a long sweet ass hug before Taylor fetch my hand as we walk towards the parking lot.

"Those two looked hella cute. I bet their older sister is beautiful too. And it's a major plus points that she's a dancer."

"She is, Lolo. I saw her once when she fetch Maggie and Sofi."

"Really? Lucky hooman! You get to see her before I do!"

Taylor tugged my hand and she's wearing a teasingly smile, "Are you crushing on their older sister?"

"What?" I chuckled, "Of course not. I haven't seen her yet."

"Yes you do, Lolo! You knew her."

Now that spikes my attention.

"I do?"

Taylor nodded, "They're the ones who's coming over for dinner later."

A smile shoot across my face. Finally I can get another replacement girl for Ella.

"Now I'm excited for dinner."

I open the passenger door for Taylor and she quickly hop in. I place her bag down beside her feet before I put her seatbelt on. I close the passenger door and jogged to the driver's seat.

"Wait, so you said I know their sister. What's her name?"

I turn the car around and started to drive out of the parking lot.

"Camila."

I think I fucking choke.

"What?"

"Camila Cabello."

Oh. My. God.

I bet their older sister is beautiful too. And it's a major plus points that she's a dancer.

Now I'm excited for dinner.

Every appraisal I've said about Camila is like a ghost. It fucking haunts me and I feel like I'm gonna puke the shit out of me.

I called her beautiful. Fuck! No, this isn't happening. I didn't said that. I will never call Camila beautiful. No.

"You're not serious... right?" I asked hoping my sister will say that she is but instead I got a confused look coming from her.

"Oh god, you're really serious. Fuck." I mumbled the curse word. I may have a "malfunctioning" brain but at least I am a good sister.

"What's the matter, Lolo? You don't like her?"

I laugh, "Trust me, Taylor. What I feel for her is beyond that."

"Why do you hate Mila though? She seemed nice."

And she have a nickname for her. Great!

"She's nice to you because you're not me and probably don't have an idea that you are my sister."

"Why do you hate each other though?"

"Because she's a..." I don't know how to describe Camila without associating her name to every curse words out there. "It's a very, very long list why but the bottom line is she's a mean girl. Like, I'm one of the Powerfuff girls and she's the Mojo Jojo."

Taylor make that "Really" face, "That bad?"

"Yeah, that bad."

Throughout the whole drive Taylor told me everything about this Cabello-Jauregui friendship that's been happening between the adults and the little siblings I don't have any single clue about (And I bet even Camila). I learned that our parents have been best pals since high school and the moment they drift apart is when mom and dad moved in California.

And now I'm starting to think the reason why they moved back in Miami is this. I'm really happy that they're best friends and everything but what I'm not happy about is out of all daughters Mr. and Mrs. Cabello could produce, why Camila? Why did their egg and sperm cell decided to create a fake ass bitch that is Camila? The same Camila that I anger the most?

And now it all make sense to me why mom didn't confront Camila in the school earlier. This is the reason why.

I park my dad's car straight to the garage while Taylor burst the door open and run towards the porch. I trailed behind my sister and I saw my parents already organized everything for the said night dinner with the Cabello's.

I helped my mom a little in preparing because god knows what will happen to me if I don't. I baked some cupcakes and muffins for the kids and roasted a turkey and ordered 4 boxes of pizza. I really wish I could know what flavor of pizza Camila's going to eat so I could spit on it and sprawl it with some water coming from the toilet. Unfortunately, I can't tell.

I've been wishing for the hours to go slow or that the wheels of their car flat broke. I'm honestly not prepared to pretend I'm excited and happy to see Camila when in fact all I wanted is to punch her hard in the face until she fell down on the floor unconscious.

But luck is not on my side because as soon as the clock strikes 7:30, the doorbell rings.

"Lauren Michelle, go get the door."

I groaned as I drag my feet towards the front door. I took a deep breath before I open it and I was greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Cabello with a huge smile on their faces. Behind them is Camila and her two little sisters.

"Lolo!" The two girls launch themselves to me happily then turn their attention to Camila, "Kaki, she's the one we're talking about. The beautiful Lauren!"

Camila cringe at the word, "You should've called her the brainless Lauren so I'll immediately know who she is."

Her parents looked at Camila. Their eyes telling her to shut up and the brown eyed girl look back at them innocently, "What?"

"You guys should've called your sister my insecure fan who won't shut the hell up rather than Kaki so I'll immediately know who she is too."

I look at Camila with a smile while the brown eyed girl scoff irritatedly.

"I'm your fan? Please! Nothing about you is pleasant to see. Wake up, you're just a sore in my eyes!"

I watch her parents and sisters look back and forth between Camila and I with a questioning look on their faces. They probably expect us to be a loving friends like them.

But sorry to crash the dream, we're not.

"Oh, Camila! That's why we are best friends! C'mere and give me a hug. I missed you."

I walk over and gulp Camila into a big hug which sent every hair on my body to stand. The disgust that runs through my entire body the moment I hold her is extreme and overwhelming. I'm sure she feels exactly the same way.

A devious smirk appeared on my lips as I whisper to her ear, "I wonder if parents know that their oh-so-holy virgin daughter dated almost the entire guys in school."

"Try to open your big filthy mouth and I'm gonna kill you!" Camila whispered and I laugh as I pulled away.

I face Camila with a fake smile, "You're my favorite sight to see, Camila."

I took advantage of her incapability to fight back by flickering her forehead. Hard. Hard enough to leave a red mark on it.

Camila groaned and glare at me while her parents and sisters are laughing thinking we were both being playful.

Oh, if they only know.

"They are so cute together, Maggie!"

"They are!"

Both little sisters gush while the parents are giving us their warm smile.

"I know Clara's trolling me when she said that you and Camilita doesn't get along well." Mr. Cabello said, completely awe at the sight of us being all buddy buddy

"You guys are so cute." Mrs. Cabello said, "And you must be the famous Lauren. Your mother always talks about you."

"I hope she's saying good things."

"Don't worry she is."

"Shall we?" I motioned through the door, "My parents are very excited to see you guys already."

"We'll get going then." Mrs. Cabello let her kids and husband inside.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Mrs. Cabello."

"Thank you, Lauren. I swear you're the cutest."

"Thank you. I swear you're the prettiest woman I've ever met. Second to my mom, of course."

She look back with a smile and I heard Camila mumbled a "Sucker much?". I watch her parents step inside the house. The moment they disappeared from my sight, I turn look at Camila.

"Actually Lauren, I have something for you." Camila slips her hand inside her jeans then  pulled it out seconds later with her middle finger sticked in the mid air.

"From the bottom of my heart... fuck you."

Camila smirk smugly, "Everybody wants to fuck me, sweetie. But to fuck a game you gotta be a coach, and they were all just average players. But you Lauren, you're below average and it's actually disgusting how stupid you are."

I laugh, "Oh Camila, I don't exactly hate you. But if you were on fire and I had water, I'd drink it."

"If you listen closely you can hear me not caring." Camila smirk before walking inside the house.

I followed her and everyone's already settled in the dinning area. Our parents talk about tough cases they handled today, and that's one of the few more things I learned from them; both of our parents are business partners in our law firm so basically they both owned it which I have no fucking idea with.

Proceeding to the little offsprings, Maggie, Taylor, and Sofia are so lost to their conversation on what they will be playing after dinner.

Only Camila and I are the ones who doesn't have a say on anything during dinner. It's not like I will initiate a conversation with her anyway. One fact is clear here— it doesn't matter how much boredom kills us or if the world is falling apart or we're the last people remaining on earth. I'd rather have my tongue cut off than to talk to Camila and Camila would rather talk to a tree than to have a conversation with me. That's that.

"You know I'm your best friend Lauren," Camila suddenly spoke while slicing her steak.

I bite my pizza and started chewing not giving a damn fuck on what she's going to say.

"And I'm always here if you need me." She lift up her eyes finally meeting mine. She smiled devily, "I heard you FAILED FIVE SUBJECTS and it's okay. I'm here to help you cope up."

I almost spit out the pizza.

Everyone's conversation stops and all eyes landed on me and Camila at how the words " failed five subjects" are so well-emphasized.

This fucking bitch!

"Lauren, is that true?" My mom inquired.

I can feel her eyes boring a hole at the side of my head but I didn't look back at her nor answer her question. I'm just looking at Camila with a deadly glare. The bitch pretended to be shock that she dropped the bomb at the "wrong" fucking time.

"Oh god! You didn't know, Mrs. Jauregui?" Then she turns her brown eyes on me. Her face screams the most fake ass apologetic expression ever, "Oh Lauren,"

"No, I didn't. But thank you for telling me Camila. You are so kind—"

"I didn't failed five subjects, okay?! She's lying!"

"I have proof though."

"Are you fucking serious?!"

"Lauren, your mouth!" Both of my parents called me out.

Camila took her phone and showed the screenshot of my academic card to my parents.

Okay, first of all, how in the hell did she manage to snap that out?

"Don't take this in a wrong way, Lauren. I'm just concern to you. I'm your best friend and I wanted to help you out."

Her face screams a fake concern expression but her eyes are smirking devilishly.

"We're gonna have a talk after dinner, Lauren."

"I'm just concern to you too, Camila. But tasting every guys in school is not good."

Camila's entire demenour changes making me smirk. I shift my eyes on her parents who looked completely shock.

"Es eso cierto, Camilita?"

"No. Por supuesto que no, Papa."

"Whoops! Parents didn't know? I'm so sorry, Camila. I thought they knew all of your sexual activities inside and outside the school."

Camila's boiling in anger at this point and I'm loving every seconds of it.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little slut. Name one guy you haven't fucked." I sing out loud with a smirk.

Camila quickly fires back.

"I'd like to see things from your point of view, but I can't get my head that far up my ass."

I laugh, "I'm so sorry you were offended when I called you a slut. I didn't know it was a secret."

"And I suppose you having an STD is not a secret too considering you're a skank."

"Good story Camila, but in what chapter do you shut the fuck up?"

Camila laugh, "You're hurt to hear the truth and that's fine. But I have to say this— if idiots could fly it's no surprise that you'll be the damn airport. You know why, Lauren? Because you are the epitome of stupidity!"

"You know why I can't stand you, Camila?! It's because you're the most asshole fake ass bitch I've ever met!"

"Maybe if you weren't so fucking stupid then maybe I won't be a damn bitch around you!"

"F the fucking Y I, Camila! My IQ is much higher than your retarded brain!"

She laugh angrily, "Please! My goddamn dog is much more smarter than you!"

"You know what?! Fuck you!"

"Okay, stop! We heard enough of this banter!" My mom yelled, stopping both Camila and I. But the death glare that we're giving each other didn't. "We get it. You two are not friends. You two hate each other. We get it. No need to say a very inappropriate words in front of the little ones!"

"See?! This is all your fault!" Camila and I said at the same time while pointing fingers at each other.

"Enough!" Now it's her mother's turn, "This feels weird to know that the adults are friends, the little siblings are friends, and... well, except for the older sisters. What's happening in here?"

"Camila fucking Cabello happened!"

"Lauren!"

"One question Mr. and Mrs. Jauregui. There's a lot of stupid people in the world, why did you decided to add one more?"

"Camila!"

"Your mother should've swallowed you!"

"And your father should've wiped you on the sheets!"

"You talk so much shit, I don't know whether to offer you a breath mint or a toilet paper!"

"Please, Lauren! You couldn't pour the water out of a boot if the instructions were written on the heel! That's how stupid you are!"

"Ladies! Aren't you tired fighting with each other? Look at your younger siblings. They're much more matured than the two of you!"

"Lolo and Kaki would be a great friends if they ever get along." Tay suddenly butt in out of nowhere earning a loud disgusting scoff from the both of us.

"Friends? I prefer killing her instead!"

"And I prefer chopping off your damn tongue if that will stop you from abusing the privilege of being a stupid moron!"

"And you guys would be good looking couple too." Maggie commented, earning a smile from both the adults and younger ones.

Camila scoff, "Please! I don't do relationship with a dyke! Let alone a brain dead dyke!"

"I would rather fuck a lifeless body than to be in a relationship with a bitch like you!"

"Ladies! Oh my god! What did I say about the inappropriate words? And could you two please calm down?" It was my mom and she's already giving me a death glare which is not a good sign at all.

I guess I already consumed too much of my freedom of speech in this table so I just slide down from my chair a little and shut my mouth.

"We and Taylor are like that at first but when we finally get to know each other well we became best of friends." Sofi started and both our parents agreed.

"Maybe if Lolo and Kaki get to know each other too then they'll be friends too."

Camila's about to open her big dirty mouth when Mrs. Cabello cover it.

Thank fucking god!

"Thank you, Mrs. C—" Taylor covered mine as well.

"The kids have a point. Maybe you guys need to get to know each other more." My dad says.

"Spend a lot of time together." Added Mr. Cabello.

"What do you have in mind, Ale?"

"I don't mind sending Camila off to a dorm as long as she's with Lauren. Right, Sinu?"

Mrs. Cabello immediately nod her head. "Yeah, and Camila's 18 already and it's also practice for college."

"We don't mind sending Lauren off too." My mom says.

Wait, what?! Are they seriously proposing THAT?! No way! No fucking way I will live in one house with this fucking asshole!

I immediately push my sister's hand, "No, okay?! I would rather live in a house full of cockroach than to live with this asshole!"

"Lolo! Your mouth!" My sister called out, slapping my thigh.

"It's only right that you live along with your species."

"Camila!"

"Oh yeah?!"

"Aww I hurt your feelings by being blunt? Boo hoo! Maybe you should cry me a river, build me a bridge, and grow the fuck up!"

"You know what, Camila?! You are the reason why God created a middle finger! So fuck you!"

"Okay, that's it! That's enough! Starting tomorrow you two will live in one apartment. That's it. That's final."

Oh hell fucking no!

[chaseadrian]

entitled writers on tumblr: beg for notes 24/7, hold fics hostage and won’t continue until they get a certain amount of notes, complain about the like reblog ratio 24/7

also entitled writers on tumblr: only promote their own work, don’t support other writers and don’t look for other fics, don’t appreciate likes even though those are still notes, don’t update fics regularly, block urls they don’t recognize, block blogs that are too new as though we’re all supposed to have been here since 2013 or something, constantly insults the reader audience, get mad if people tell you they liked it so much they wanna part two, get mad if comments aren’t up to your exact specifications



let me go point by point to prove you’re a fucking idiot.

your entire first paragraph: writing takes a lot of effort, and the ratio has changed over the past few years, largely because of new users that don’t exactly understand how tumblr works. that’s fine, we learn, but listen to people who’ve been on this site for years. we are well within our rights to express disappointment and feel discouraged over low note count, especially when readers demand new work without showing appreciation for what’s there.

“only promote their own work, don’t support others, don’t look for fics” i have never seen a writer do that. i know several writers that have entire separate blogs for fanfic recs. i have one! and if you check the #fic tag on my blog, guess what you’ll see? comment after comment on fics i’ve read. and i don’t even read fic that often, like ppl i’m following definitely read more than i do and my dash is full of them reblogging fic with lengthy comments. i make it a point not to follow writers who don’t support their fellow writers. bc we all understand the struggle.

“don’t appreciate likes even though they’re notes” a like tells me exactly nothing. it tells me you SAW my work. i don’t give two shits about note count. i would take a 40 note fic where 38 of the notes are comments/reblogs over a 10k note fic where 9.8k of the notes are likes. many writers would.

“don’t update fics regularly” again. writing is hard. it takes effort. and we’re all fucking adults with college, jobs, family, illnesses, life in general outside this site. you as a reader are not entitled to scheduled updates, you are not entitled to fic period.

“blocks urls you don’t recognize etc.” blogs that get blocked are often A. ageless/minors or B. completely blank with the default icon + theme. they look like bots. i only block minors on sight, but blogs that block blank/ageless blogs are well in their right to do so.

“constantly insult the reader audience” if you’re insulted by posts encouraging reblogging, take a look at how you interact with fic. the call is coming from inside the house.

your entire last point about comments: demanding more content is not a compliment. if all you say is “when’s part two??” or some variation then you are putting unfair pressure and burden on a writer who delivered you something that took time, effort, and talent. a demand ≠ a comment. writers are happy with a simple keysmash, so i don’t even get your point about “exact specifications.”

to sum. writers owe you jack shit. and if you have neither the capability nor the willingness to write your own fucking fanfic, then you don’t have a voice in this conversation. sorry.

[lilydoeswrite]

THE MERCILESS SIREN | CHAPTER FIVE

wattpad link previous chapter series masterlist next chapter

summary: It is the 66th Hunger Games when Oceana Fontaine is reaped as tribute, and at just thirteen years old, the odds are certainly not in her favour. As much as it is seen as an honour for Oceana to represent her district in the games, it is also practically a death sentence. But Oceana knows she needs to go home and is determined to, no matter how low her chances are and with the help of her mentors, she might just do that. But if she is to win, she will have to learn where her biggest strengths start to turn into her biggest flaws and weigh her options carefully as she starts making choices that pushes her morality and the lengths she will go to for love.

tags: slow burn (finnick x oc), eventual violence, the usual stuff when it comes to the hunger games, not sure what else

I’ve been lying on a bed and staring at the ceiling for what feels like forever when the woman who introduced herself as Emmaline finally speaks up. “Last one, Oceana!” She says, smiling. She has hair so light it looks white and a gold piercing near her eyebrow, above all she has gold tattoos all over her arm. I will never understand Capitol fashion, but I guess if that was what made them comfortable I’ll try not to judge. I instantly bite the bottom of my teeth as she yanks the fabric from my leg, the hair below it tears off as I slowly recover from the pain. 

“Are we done?” I ask, turning my head to the side to glance at her before glancing at the clock. I’ve spent the past three hours in the Remake Centre and the last hour or so lying on the bed in a thin robe which is so thin you might as well not wear one as Emmaline rips my hair out of my body. No wonder I feel like I’ve been here for an eternity.

“Almost,” she smiles before calling the rest of my prep team over. “You’re doing very well.”

Almost? It’s been three hours and I’m still not ready to change into my costume for the parade. How much is there to do? I glance over at the rest of my prep team. There’s a lady called Nessa who has silver tattoos all over her arms, she has pink hair and all sorts of piercings on her ears– I suppose she’s the one that looks the most normal in contrast to some guy called Ryker who has his entire body dyed a pale shade of orange. 

They rub me down with some kind of lotion which stings for a while before it soothes my skin before pulling me from the table to remove the robe. I’m completely naked at this point and I can’t help but feel self conscious as I stand in the centre of the room awkwardly, watching as they circle me, wielding tweezers as they inspect my body closely, looking for any leftover hair. I probably shouldn’t feel as self conscious as I am right now, afterall, they’re only doing their jobs, but I can’t help it. Emmaline must’ve taken notice of it as she places her hand on my shoulder and gives a reassuring smile. 

“And we’re done!” Ryker claps his hands together, “you look excellent my dear, and I’m sure you’d look even more dazzling in your dress!”

“Thank you,” I smile, looking at Nessa who passes me a silk robe to wear out to the dressing room. 

“Doesn’t she look beautiful?” Emmaline squeaks in her high-pitched voice and her funny Capitol accent. “Oh, my darling, you have such incredible potential when it comes to your looks! I’m so glad we’re going to manage to reach it!”

I’m not sure whether to take the last part as an insult or compliment but it doesn’t matter as I make my way out into the sitting room and take a seat on one of the velvet seats that are so comfortable I can fall asleep on them. I run my fingers through my hair. If only I was back in District 4 with Aurelia. My mind starts to wander off as I think about mother who’s probably worried to death and father who is probably carrying on with life just fine. Mother…The dress mother had given to me! I now remember about it and my lips turn upside down into a frown as I remember that I had left it on the train– not thinking about bringing it with me into the Capitol. 

I hear the door open and I turn around to see Valeria. The soft curls in her pink hair bounces up and down as she makes her way to me excitedly, there’s a big smile on her face as she looks at me, although it fades away when we make eye contact with each other. 

“Why the frown, Oceana? Did the prep team not do a good job?” She asks, slight concern lacing her voice. 

“No,” I force a smile. “They did a brilliant job.” I’m not sure how true the statement is, but Valeria seems to agree regardless.

“Then why the frown?” She asks, combing through my hair. “You should smile more, you have the sweetest smile!”

“I was just thinking about home,” I vaguely reply. 

“Well, I’m sure your family will be watching the opening ceremony from home!” Valeria says, smiling. “Now, let’s enjoy some food, shall we?” She presses a button on the side of the table. The top splits and from below rises a second tabletop which holds our lunch. 

Large pieces of salmon are in a dish with fresh toppings of tomatoes and olives on it. There is some soup that comes with the dish as well. I take a plate and cut some salmon onto it before breaking the delicate flesh with my teeth. I almost tear up upon tasting it. It tastes like something mother would make for Aurelia and me back home for one of our dinner parties. She would go to the market early in the morning to get the best pieces of salmon she could find whilst I go surfing. Then, she’d ask Aurelia to set up the table and chairs in the back garden where you get a nice view of the beach as she prepares the food. Then, in the evening, the guests would arrive and our house would be filled with laughter and joyful chatter as we gather outside to eat as we watch the sunset. 

I finish eating whatever I had taken and look up to find Valeria’s eyes on me. “You miss home, don’t you?” She says, her voice soft and gentle. It’s as if she’s read my thoughts. 

“I do,” I admit, biting the inside of my cheek as I look at her. 

“I’m sure you do,” she says. “So, Oceana, let’s talk about your costume for the opening ceremonies. My partner, Ophelia, is the stylist for your fellow tribute, Gill. As you know, it’s customary to reflect your district’s culture.” 

I nod. For the opening ceremony, the costumes that the tributes wear should be something that suggests your district’s industry. District 1, luxury. District 2, masonry. District 3, factories. District 4, fishing. District 5, power. District 6, transportation. District 7, lumber. District 8, textiles. District 9, grain. District 10, livestock. District 11, agriculture. And District 12, mining. This means that Gill and I will be in some kind of ocean-themed and fisherman-themed costume since we’re from 4. Thankfully, District 4 usually got the better costumes, so I’m not exactly worried.

“So I assume it’ll be something similar to last year’s costume?” I ask and Valeria instantly shakes her head.

“Oh, no. Much better than that, Oceana!” She says. “Ophelia and I are meant to make you unforgettable! The crowd will remember you, I’ll assure you of that.”

A few hours later, I am dressed in the most sensational and majestic costume in the opening ceremonies. I’m in a blue and purple dress with so many layers of ruffles I can barely count them. It’s adorned with pearls, seashells and gemstones, the straps are made out of several chains of pearls and diamonds. In other words, the dress is mesmerisingly beautiful and it’s the small attention to detail Valeria had put into it that makes it so incredible. I’m wearing a pair of heels which I’ve learned how to walk in. My makeup makes me look older than I am with heavy eyeshadow and eyeliner which apparently helps my green eyes stand out and highlighter. My hair has soft, flowing curls in them with a couple of small braids completed with some seashells attached to my hair. It’s completely different as opposed to my usual pin straight hair and ponytail.

“The audience will remember you,” says Valeria as she helps me put on some pearl earrings and a necklace as a finishing touch. “You look like a siren, and I’m sure you’ll be a deadly one in the arena.” She clasps the necklace around my neck and adjusts my hair slightly when I see Gill walking over. 

“Hi, Gill,” I smile. He’s in a similar costume to mine, a golden necklace of a starfish hangs from his neck. He’s accompanied by his stylist, Ophelia, and his team, which all congratulate Valeria who seems a bit giddy as she accepts it. 

“Hi, Oceana,” Gill smiles, walking next to me as we’re brought down to the bottom level of the Remake Centre which is practically a gigantic stable as chariots pulled by teams of four horses are lined up in an orderly manner. “Excited?”

“More like nervous,” I remark.

“What’s there to be nervous about?” He asks, striding towards our chariot, helping me up. 

“I don’t know,” I sigh, “I guess it’s the sheer amount of people here tonight.”

Valeria and Ophelia make some last minute adjustments and position us carefully as we continue to talk to one another. The opening ceremony is about to start as I see the other tributes being loaded into their respective chariots. 

“Look, you can hold my hand if that makes you feel less nervous, alright?” He offers, which I gladly accept. “You just need to make sure the crowd remembers you. Smile and wave, if you want, if not just at least smile.”

“I’ll do whatever you do,” I whisper, making Gill chuckle.

I look at the horses which our chariot is attached to. They’re so well trained that there’s no need to guide their reins. They’re grey in colour with spots of white across their body. Soon, the opening music begins. It’s easy to hear and impossible to miss as it’s blasted around the Capitol. The massive doors slide open to reveal rows and rows of packed seats filled with buzz. The Capitol citizens are all excited about this as they immediately shift their gazes to the tributes from District 1 who ride out in their chariot pulled by ink-black horses. The roar of the crowd immediately follows, it’s obvious that they’re the favourites. District 2 follows them in position and in no time, Gill and I are approaching the door. 

“Let’s do this,” Gill says and it’s the last thing I hear before I hear the cheers and shouts of “District 4!” Everyone is paying attention to us and our striking get-up. I catch sight of myself on a large television screen and smile at how breathtakingly amazing we look. Under the bright lights, our extravagant costumes make us shine and catch the attention of everyone as the gemstones and diamonds on our outfits shine brightly. 

Smile and wave. I hear Stella’s voice in my head. The audience will remember you. I hear Valeria’s voice in my head. I give my sweetest smile and wave at the audience as they continue cheering for our district and our first names which they’ve bothered to find on the program. The crowd is going crazy as Gill gives a swoon worthy smile and blows a few kisses to the audience. I’m sure I don’t have enough confidence to pull any of that off so I continue to smile and wave which seems to do the job just fine as the audience continues throwing more flowers our way. I can hear “Oceana!” being shouted from both sides so I figure I’ve done my job well as we enter the City Circle. Slowly, I let go of Gill’s hand and turn to look at the remaining carriages that fill the loop of the City Circle. The buildings which surround it are packed, and through the windows you can see the most prestigious citizens of the Capitol. 

I catch sight of us on television as the president gives the official welcome speech from a balcony above us. It is tradition to show each of the tributes during the speech and to give them air time, but I can tell we’re getting more of it than planned. The national anthem plays and each pair of tributes are shown again quickly. Our chariot then parades around the circle for a final time before we disappear into the Training Center. 

Once the doors are shut, Gill and I are both engulfed by our prep teams, whose words you can barely decipher as they shower us in praise after praise, babbling about how well of a job we did out there. I glance around, most tributes are glaring at us as they show us dirty looks which confirms my suspicion that we had outshone all of them. But some of them, like District 1 and 2, are giving us warm smiles when we return back. I’m confused as to why, but I figure it’s because we’re all Career tributes. 

Valeria and Ophelia help us from our chariot, continuing to praise us and I look at Gill who seems pleased with himself. 

“You did well,” he comments, smiling at me. “The crowd loved you.”

“They loved you too!” I laugh as we walk away from the chariots, but not before I pet one of the horses which led our chariot as a thank you.

“I could hear your name being chanted everywhere, even more than mine,” Gill comments. “It’s not as scary as you thought, right?”

“Yeah,” I chuckle shyly. “Thanks for letting me hold your hand, I think I would’ve collapsed if not for it.”

“It’s nothing,” Gill shrugs. “It’s my job to help you out, we’re in these games together…Besides, you remind me of my little sister, it’s only right that I do.”

author's note: hello! once again, thank you for reading all the way! i really appreciate it! if you like this, consider commenting or reblogging if you want to :) thank you and any constructive criticism or feedback is welcomed!

[jouska-the-deer]

Sonic Frontiers Spoilers

Alright so I have the feeling I’m coming up on the end of the second island and I have some thoughts. 

Gameplay; I love 90% of it. The 2D stages can go eat whatever the hell this this. Otherwise, I’m smiling the entire time I’m just running around collecting things. Despite unlocking fast travel I’ve never used it because I prefer to get to places on my own. This is the first Sonic game where I feel like we’re getting a taste of what everyday adventuring is like for Sonic. 

The music is good so far. We all knew it was going to be. I was pleasantly surprised at there being an actual metal song in there, though. If some people thought Infinite’s theme was too heavy, I wonder how they handled Undefeatable. I also want to say Kronos island’s music reminds me of the Gaia gate music from Sonic Unleashed. Kinda in the instrumentals, but more in the atmosphere they give off. 

Negativity incoming.

Everyone is saying the writing in Frontiers is amazing. I think it’s alright. There have been a few bits of dialog that felt stilted, with unintentional end rhymes and awkwardly repeating words. The most notable thing about the dialog is just how... not notable it is. It’s very subdued... even in places where you’d expect characters to be freaking out. 

One of the biggest things I see people praising is the voice acting, or more accurately, the voice direction. Every single character, Every, Single, One, talks more calmly now. Honestly, to me, the lack of energy is extremely jarring in places. Casual conversations; That’s fine. But, I feel like Sonic would normally freak out a bit more at losing all his friends. I feel like he should be a little angrier at the person being openly hostile to him. I feel like he’s handling all of this... a bit too well. 

So, as I watched the cutscenes, something that really stuck out to me is how mature everyone is acting. Even the various let’s players I’ve watched have pointed this out. They have a decent amount of emotional maturity and are capable of having level-headed conversations in times of stress like reasonable adults. ...The problem is that they’re all children. Like... Amy’s supposed to be 12 and yet she’s acting like a young woman, staring into the distance pondering a greater purpose in life. Sonic had his character flaws laid out to him by Sage (being short-sighted and short-tempered) yet he’s been acting the opposite so far. Knuckles has similar flaws, yet he’s been pretty mellow too. Was there a time skip? Why is everyone so different? 

I’m kinda worried, honestly. On the first island, Amy made a comment about wanting spread love to the world, and Sonic replied that he’d be waiting for when she came back, with the entire scene being framed as really important. My thoughts were, firstly, that what Amy just said was vague and meaningless no matter how profound the line was read, and secondly, that Sonic was weird to say he’d be waiting for her to come back after finishing such a vague task. Then, I got to the second island, and Knuckles commented on possibly going on adventures sometimes, and alarm bells starting ringing in my head. 

I hope, so much, that they’re not going to pull that dumb ass trope of the friends going their own ways at the end of the story. Not only is it just a cheap way to snag unearned tears, but for Sonic games specifically, it is an insult to the very core of what they are. Sonic values his freedom to run off on adventures, but he also loves his friends and trusts them to have his back when it’s time to save the day. As cheesy as it is, The Power of Friendship is at the core of 90% of the franchise. If they toss his friends aside for a cheap bittersweet ending (and probably due to idiot “Sonic’s annoying friends” critiques) I’ll be extremely pissed.

That’s a lot of time talking about characterization, now... lore... It’s fine so far. I bought all the Egg memos and it’s mostly just continuity clarification like in the TailsTube videos, with a mild amount of exploration into Eggman’s relationship with Sage. The memos and cutscenes so far make it seem like the writers are trying to get all their ducks in a row. It’s obvious that this game is supposed to be The Big One and they’re probably trying to catch up new fans while clearing things up for old ones. Not to be sacrilegious, but I’m not particularly lore hungry, so I don’t care much. I’ve always been more into the current struggles of main characters rather than the past struggles of long dead randos. If they do something neat that’ll actually affect the main cast, then I guess I’ll have a reason to care.

Anyway, that’s all I think I had to say. Now, I’m off to save my million screenshots of the game to my PC while continuing to wonder when the writers will remember that Knuckles is supposed to be guarding the master emerald outside of side gags. 

[bastillewolf]

Shinigami Eyes (II)

Pairing: Corpse Husband / Reader

Summary: After you distastefully kill Corpse in a game of Among Us, he wants you to make it up to him and invites you to come over for the week.

Notes: Thank you so much for the love on the previous chapter, I’ve never gotten this many notes before. I hope you enjoy, and maybe leave an ask if you want to? I can’t promise I have time to do them, but I’ll pick out a couple.

Also, I might rewrite this. I kinda rushed it because I wanted to finish it by tonight, but there will be a final and third chapter to this afterwards. Please do let me know what you think.

Tag list CLOSED!

Shinigami Eyes - Pt. II

5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

Impostor

You were teamed up with Sean.

Your fist violently slammed down on the desk. “Goddammit! I don’t want to be impostor anymore! This game has no compassion for my poor nerves.” It was the third time in a row now, and you were really craving to do normal tasks now without all the scheming. “Fuck it, I don’t care if they kill me. I’m just gonna do my thing without thinking about it.”

You decide to follow Toast for a bit to watch him do some task. You kill him in Laboratory. You vent back to Launchpad and take your time walking towards MedBay while the kill button restores. You meet up with Corpse, and follow him while pretending to do wires in the Y-hallway. You watched the green bar go up, and continued. Sabotaging and then fixing lights, you made sure your place with Corpse was settled. Then the body of Lily was reported.

As you expected, Corpse easily vouched for you as he’d seen you do a task. The round was skipped, though Rae was sussed for ‘chasing’ Sean, by his own words.

“Corpse, you’ve grown weak,” you muttered to chat.

You were in Greenhouse, and decided it would be best to kill him there and sabotage Reactor. “Sorry baby, but I can’t keep following you around.” You quickly set off Reactor and murdered him in front of the plants. “Your blood shall keep the plants hydrated.” You did an evil laugh. “Pretty sure that’s not how it works, though.”

You vented down to MedBay and as you walked out you met up with Rae. She’d be the vouch who would confirm you weren’t anywhere near Greenhouse. “I’ll just have to fix my own sabotage so they’ll never suspect me.” You helped her with the handprint, and noted Sykkuno and Felix being there. Sean sabotaged lights, you killed Sykkuno, and ran out to follow Lily into Laboratory. Felix reported the body.

“Holy shit,” Rae gasped. So far, five people had died. You only needed to kill one more person. “It was Felix!”

“Wait, what?” the man in question asked. “I was fixing Reactor!”

She mentioned that only you, Sykkuno, Felix and herself had been there and that you’d helped her do handprint. “Sykkuno must have fixed it, and then you killed him!”

Sean asked if you’d seen anything.

“No, the lights were out. I followed Rae into Laboratory after the scan.” Your voice didn’t tremble or raise, a tactic you’d taken up from the best lair in the group. Well, the one who was now dead. Oops. “I haven’t seen Felix this entire game, though.”

He was evidently at a loss for words, so the group was quick to vote for him.

Pewds was ejected.

Victory.

You thanked Sean for a good game who was laughing his ass off. “I can’t believe you did Corpse like that! Poor guy!”

“I deadass thought you were innocent,” Corpse replied, “I’m hurt.”

“Why do you still sound dark and menacing when you say something like that?!”

You agreed with Sean heartily, “He’s just salty I’ve bested him at his own game.”

“Hey now, no need to actually insult me.”

The group laughed. You decided to call it for the night, right before Corpse did the same.”

 ***

He was calling you again. “What is it this time, you salty?”

“Salty? Nah, never,” he said, but you weren’t convinced.

“Then why you calling?”

“What, I can’t call my friends after playing a nice round of Among Us?”

“Not when you lost the game and you call the person who you lost to. Kinda sus, dude.”

“Alright, maybe a little salty.” You smirked.

“Aw, you need me to make it up to you?”

He laughed. “What did you have in mind?”

A bunch of thoughts, most not rated PG-13, crossed your mind. You were suddenly starting to feel uncomfortable. This was probably just something innocent, which got twisted in your fucked-up mind. You shrugged, “Uh… I don’t know.”

“I got an idea.”

“What is it?”

“Come over this week. You said you needed a break, right?”

“That sounds more like you’re doing me a favour instead of me making it up to you.”

“I don’t have any friends. You’d be making it up to me by being the first physical person here in years. I usually don’t invite people over.”

“Wow, I’m flattered. So, you don’t consider me to be your friend after all?”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” he chuckled.

“Sure, sure. Tell me that again when my presence suddenly brightens your life making you not want to get rid of me, ever.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

 ***

You walk through the gates following a hoard of people, all the while still feeling drowsy from not getting any sleep during your flight. At least you didn’t have any turbulence and landed safely. Glancing around here and there with no result, you figured Corpse would be waiting outside, until you spotted a figure clad in black a little ends away by the escalator. You were glad you were still awake enough to have found him, because he appeared to silently linger halfway behind a fern.

At least, you hoped it was him. The only indications were his clothes, mask and dark hair. You saw him run a hand through it, and identified the chipped black nail polish and familiar rings. Oh yea, that was him alright.

He seemed to be paying more attention to the floor until he saw two feet appear in his line of sight. “Hey,” you awkwardly greeted. A bit taken a back, he replied, “Oh, wow. Hey.” A mask was covering the bottom of his face, but as far as you could see his eyes were a very dark shade.

“Wow?” you repeated. He chuckled, scratching the back of his head. “Yea, sorry. It’s a compliment.” You held your elbow out in a safe-distance gestured hello, but he shrugged you off. “You’re gonna be staying with me anyways.” Suddenly in a daze, you felt him wrap his arms around your waist and instantly hugged him back. His baggy sweater felt warm and soft to the touch, and strands of hair tickled your face. You very much tried to repress your smile and blush, but how could you? Hugging someone wasn’t supposed to feel this good. When he pulled back he reached down to take your suitcase from you. “I don’t own a car, is it okay if we take a cab?”

“Y-Yeah, of course,” you stuttered, “But it’s on me. Same with food and stuff.” “Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “No, you’re letting me stay with you and a hotel would’ve been a lot more expensive than this. It’s my treat.” “Yeah, we’ll see.” He gave you a look and even with the mask you could tell he was smirking underneath it.

It’s about half an hour drive to his apartment complex, and it’s rather nice. “All that YouTube money paying off, huh?” you asked in amusement. “You’d know,” he replied. You insisted on carrying your suitcase up the stairs yourself, which he silently shook his head at, until after a few flights he noticed you struggling and settled on carrying the thing in between the two of you. “How many clothes did you bring?” “Oh, it’s mostly filled with bricks I might need to throw at your head.” He laughed at that.

His apartment was simple, but cosy. “Home sweet home,” he said, almost sarcastically. You furrowed your brow at him. “I’m sure you could’ve had it a lot worse.” He reluctantly agreed.

He helped you set down your luggage in what appeared to be his bedroom, where the curtains were still closed and the black bedsheets fresh. He had a few pieces of fanart up on his wall, and some on his closet. You turned to him and gave him a look. “You’re not sleeping on the couch.”

He quickly shook his head, “You’re not sleeping there. If you won’t let me sleep on the couch I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“If you’re sleeping on the floor, I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” he murmured. “What?” “Nothing.”

He suggested playing video games as you were both too tired to do anything else. You’d landed quite late yet were still confused about what time it actually was. Flying is weird. You hopped onto his couch and grabbed a controller.

He sat down next to you, but suddenly seemed tenser than before.

“You okay? You can just go to sleep if you want to.”

He shook his head, “Nah, I don’t sleep a lot. It’s fine.”

You didn’t stop looking at him, though. He was still wearing that mask. “You don’t have to take it off, if you don’t want to. I understand if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not that, I just…” He took a deep breath. You hadn’t expected him to take it off then and there. You stared at him, your mouth slightly agape, controller barely held by your numb hands.

“Disappointed?”

It was as if he was expecting you to make a face or something, but you didn’t give him anything, except for a blatant “Nope” and an “Are we gonna play now or what?”

“You don’t have anything else to say?”

You shrugged, and looked him up and down again. “You’re kind of what I imagined you to be.”

“What’s that?”

“Handsome.”

Neither of you could stop smiling for the rest of the night.

You eventually forced him to sleep in his own bed, even going as far as to shove him into the room and keep your weight against the door so he couldn’t get out, so he eventually relented. “Inviting you here was a mistake.” “How come? All I’ve done so far is look after you!” “You’re a nightmare.”

You mostly stayed in for the week, which you didn’t mind at all. Being in such a closed-off environment with someone you got along with was nice. He attempted to get you to lift the weights in his room and succeeded for around fifteen minutes until you nearly dropped a dumbbell on your foot. You ordered take-out from his favourite restaurant, watched horror movies until you adapted to his sleeping schedule because you were too scared to close your eyes now, and even streamed a bit together with your friends.

“Wait, is Corpse with you?” Rae had asked.

“No, I’m at Corpse’s. He’s sitting across from me so I can’t see his screen but we’re gonna have to share the Discord unless you want to hear an echo.”

“Ah, man! You got to see his face, too?” Sykkuno whined.

“Stop simping, Sykkuno. You get enough attention from him already.”

“Don’t worry, I still love you,” Corpse said.

“Huh?”

It was probably a good thing that you got teamed up again, because you could indeed start to see his hands shaking right as the word ‘impostor’ appeared on the screen. You reached over and stroked it with your thumb. He smiled gratefully back at you.

“Just please,” he pleaded later that day, “Sleep in the bed. If only for one night.”

“No. I’ve heard about and now seen your sleeping habits. If you take the couch you’re never going to get any sleep.” You made a real effort to show him how comfortable you were – even though your back had started to hurt already after the first night – by crawling underneath your blanket and rubbing your head into the soft pillow. He snorted.

Next thing, you feel yourself being lifted by an arm underneath your knees and one around your back. “Corpse! Put me the fuck down!” you shrieked. You knew he lifted weights, but how the hell did he still have the energy as an insomniac? He ungracefully dropped you onto the matrass and turned the lights off. “Good night.”

You quickly got hold of the back of his hoodie before he could leave and pulled. He fell down next to you with a low huff. “Fine, I’ll sleep in the bed. But only if you sleep here too.”

“I snore.”

“Don’t care.”

For some reason, there wasn’t any tension or awkwardness. You were comfortable, and the soft rhythm of his breathing seemed to soothe you. He called out your name, to see if you were still awake.

“Hm?”

“…Thanks for coming over.”

“Any time.”

This was how you would spend the rest of the nights, and whenever either of you woke up suddenly curled up around the other, you didn’t mention it or move away from it. It was the first time in years Corpse got a few nights of complete rest.

[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. 

[stagemanagerssaygo]

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney’s Hyperion Theater

by Cooper Howell

Heaven and Hell: or my experience being a person of color in Disney's Hyperion Theater. #holdingtheateraccountable Im just gonna go ahead and be straight up. This is pretty scary to share. HEAVEN: Once upon a time Liesl Tommy cast me as Prince Hans in Frozen: Live at the Hyperion. And I was gooped. GOOPED. There was nothing in my prior history that gave any indication this was possible. Up until then every role I played had to do with my race. Every. Single. One. And even ones where it didn’t (Shakespeare or classical pieces mostly) I was always made aware that the novelty of me being a poc in that role that gave me the part. So much did I not expect to get this part that when I got the callback I rolled my eyes and didn’t take the actual callback seriously. I mean, there was a zero percent chance that Disney would ever let me play a Prince, especially when the dude in the movie is a ginger. But then I got it. And immediately everything I thought was possible about my career changed. My whole life I’ve never inwardly felt black. I’ve never inwardly felt white. I’ve always felt like I was Cooper, you know, on the inside. But whether it was every single white human in Utah reminding me that I was “the whitest person they ever knew/saw” (which DIDNT mean how white my skin was. It was how white I ACTED) or Mr. Johnson, my 7th grade drama teacher, telling me that he “wanted to put Velcro on the ceiling to see if I’d stick” or Mr. Smith, my high school drama teacher, saying “finally we can do black shows” as soon as I entered high school and then not casting me in roles because of the "optics" of it, or even my best friend in high school Tanner Harmon who called me "blackie", I was always reminded that I was an other. So imagine getting paid good money to put on that $10,000 costume and waltzing out to 4000 people a day to play a really amazing part. A fantastic, evil, complicated, person who sings a killer duet and then grabs the show by the throat with a vicious about-face monologue... and not once was my race ever mentioned cuz it didnt matter. What was being prized was Cooper, my talent, not my skin color that I never asked for. Heaven. Liesl MADE SURE, almost overly sure, that the poc’s in the cast felt equal. The kingdom of Arendelle, after all, is a make believe place. It can be whatever. From having Disney executives come and tell us that they were happy to have us there, to side conversations with John Lasseter, we were made to feel overly welcome playing the parts we were playing. She encouraged us to dive deeper into the script of a cartoon that I didnt really think much of until I was in it. We were encouraged to ask why. We felt seen as talent and not commodities. There were, of course, detractors. Gosh, I remember people at a party of cast members from "Mickey and the Magical Map" another show at Disneyland which features a princess and the frog number and many of those casts mates angrily claiming that “if that black girl Tiana Okoye can play Elsa than I should be able to play Princess Tiana” and then looking at me to confirm that was okay to say, not realizing that a) she’s one of my best friends, b) that I’m in the show with her also playing a role that wasn't created to be a poc, c) how racist that sounded, and d) why there's a difference there and why that wouldn't make sense. On Liesls final night I came up to her and said “I don’t know why you did it but thank you so much for casting ME in this part” to which she replied “you mean why would I cast a handsome, talented person in this role?” And I stuttered something like “well, I mean, I’m black. You know...” to which she tilted her head to her side and said “no. I don’t know why. Tell me why that matters.” And I had no answer. Seeing that I had no answer she smiled. That was the answer. There was no reason. On the spot my outlook about myself changed. Windows into what I thought was possible for me opened. -------------------------------------- HELL: And then Liesl went back to NYC and she was replaced by a man named Roger Castellano as show director. Rogers task, he told us on the first day, was to "change the show". We were not told what needed to be changed or even why, but that changes were on the horizon. You've got to understand: to a full cast of actors who had just spent more than three months dissecting a 60 page Disney script with a Tony nominated director like it was Shakespeare, we were initially emotionally/mentally/spiritually resistant to changes. But then it became clear that the spirit of collaboration was over, and the show changes were to be given without the same care, consideration, and thematic explanation of why they were being made. Everyones initial reaction was to push back, but when people who questioned their notes or their changes started getting days removed their schedule or being replaced entirely by a new actor, the Hyperion theater became a place where no one was allowed to speak out. Injustices were happening left and right and no one felt they could do anything for fear of losing their livelihood. And that's when the Frozen: Live at the Hyperion became a living hell. In my first note session with Roger he pulled me into a room with Domonique Paton, my best friend and incredible costar who played princess Anna in the show I was in. She just so happens to also be black. Almost all of Prince Hans’s scenes in the show are with her character and so most of my notes would be primarily based on those interactions with her. Earlier in the day I performed with a different (white) actress but it was the show with Domonique that I had a note session about. Imagine my surprise and dismay when, with how Liesl set up the show experience, we were told this: “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER ITS TOO… URBAN.” Urban. What else could that have meant, do you think? He could have said maybe “too contemporary” emphasizing that we were maybe too modern in our speech patterns or movements. We weren’t. He could have said “too lax” or “too loose” meaning that maybe we were being unprofessional and goofy up there because we’re really good friends. We were not. The best me and Ms. Paton could think of was a 8 count moment of improv dance that me and Domonique decided to use as a synchronized moment of unity. It happened to fall on the line “our mental synchronization can have but one explanation” and thought, with the freedom that Christopher (the original choreographer) had given us, was appropriate, especially considering everyone behind us was doing the robot. As in the 80s robot. But he didnt clarify. He just said “WHEN THE TWO OF YOU PERFORM THE SHOW TOGETHER IT’S TOO… URBAN” And when asked what he meant he smiled with a little shrug and said "you can figure that out. You're smart." And thats how I became Black Hans and Domonique became Black Anna. My every moment onstage afterwards became about the optics of being a poc in that show. It was if I was suddenly made aware that I was LUCKY enough to be there and under any normal circumstances, or this new directors circumstances, me getting this part would have never happened. But the message was clear. It was especially clear when me and Domonique Paton shows together durastically decreased and made even more clear when the vast majority of the new hires were not people of color. But no one said anything. And made even MORE clear when, over the next few weeks, both Domonique and I got COPIOUS notes, ten times that of our coworkers that played the same parts. It was almost a game. In fact we did turn it into a game, seeing who would get the least amount of notes from him in a day. Our costars would even joke about it onstage with us, during the ballroom scene, and jokingly whisper "The shows been up 15 minutes. How many do you think you got today?" But no one said anything. And the notes were about all kinds of things. How we held our hand. If our inflections went up or down on a word. Which side of a couch we leaned on… which was fine! When you're an actor, thats the gig... until we started comparing our notes with the actors that played our same parts and none of them, NONE, would get the same notes. Our notes would be outrageously longer, the note sessions sometimes lasting 10/15 minutes. Others would get the “Oh hey, try doing this or that next time, okay bye” walk-by notes. Sometimes I would sneak into the audience and watch as some of the other Han's, some of whom changed lines, changed entire intentions of scenes, some of whom adding in all types of vocalizations and cackles and dance moves and what have you, and would receive ZERO notes. But I was watching them to see what was wrong with me. What was my performance missing? What am I actually doing to feel this singled out. And then I realized that the thing that was wrong with me was that I was a different color than the 5 other white Hans's they cast. And then I started getting notes about my penis. Most of the time these “penis sessions”, as I called them, were given in private rooms without another stage manager present. It was incredibly unpleasant and unprofessional. In fairness, those Prince Hans pants are TIGHT! And yes, Mr. Howell is indeed a party in the front and a party in the back, but so were a lot of those fellas. And thats where I put my foot down. If Disney was going to provide me with a costume it is not my responsibility to fix their problem, especially when other of my (white) costars had been given a dance belt for the same thing. But they never got penis notes. Private session notes about what their penis looked like in that show. Over and over again I was told to fix it, to not make it (my dick) so apparent, and that “if my daughter were younger I wouldn’t want her to come to a show you were performing at" all the more insulting considering his daughter, a cast member in the show, was a friend of mine and the loveliest person. He started demanding that I buy a dance belt. It was “my fault”, “my responsibility” …and thats where I took my stand. And then it really became hell. Penis sessions were now done out in the open. Once, he screamed at me, in the green room in front of all of my costars during lunch, about how incredible unprofessional I was, about how he was tired of seeing my dick, and that if I didnt go buy myself one I didnt deserve to be there anymore. Followed by a huge litany of notes. That doesnt compare to some of what Domonique went through and I invite her to share them if she’s willing. During this time I went to every stage manager in the building and told them about being singling out and about my penis. They all told me to write a complaint report and it would go to some place called "HR". Which I did. Numerously. More months passed. Nothing from "HR". Multiple cast members who witnessed my note sessions encouraged me to go to the HR themselves. I didnt honestly know what an HR was. As soon as it was explained to me by my allies even what an HR was I went to the head of HR at Disneyland herself and waited outside of her door. I asked her if she got any of my HR reports and she told me that she had received no HR reports from the Hyperion. Ever. And then asked me to fill out a HR form. As we went over it, she asked me some questions, and then set up a second meeting. On the second meeting she said that in order for my report to be given credence I would need witnesses to give their testimony. The witnesses, in fact the very people that told me to go to HR in the first place, said no. They didnt want to lose their jobs. In retrospect that might be the thing that hurt the most but, whatever... anyway, I was told "“well… without testimonies we’ll do an investigation and we’ll call you when we’ve completed it.” I never received a phone call. With absolutely zero protection from the stage managers from both the sexual harassment or my obvious racial targeting I (and others) were experiencing, not to mention that HR reports were doing nothing, aka not being forwarded, I thought about quitting. And when a white stage manager made a show mistake and laughed it off to the cast by saying an entirely offensive lynching joke, I quit. I didnt matter to Disney. How I felt and what I was being put through didnt matter. I was a commodity. My departure was unceremonious. Bizarre. 100% un-magical. I hung up my costume one last time and it was given to a new Hans, one who looked very much like me oddly, and stepped out of the theater. The park was playing “every wish your heart desires will come to you” and I remember laughing at how dead that song felt. The director has since moved on but still works as a musical theater director in Southern California. This one time 4 years ago I got to feel something other than my color for the first and only time in my professional career. It lasted from about March 2016 to July 2016 and never again since. I will never forget in those early days looking at all the beautiful princesses I got to woo and thinking “wow. I’m a prince right now.” Im sure that sounds stupid. But it didn't feel stupid. And a Disney prince! Yeah, a shitty prince kinda... I mean, he's a sociopath... BUT still a Prince! Especially special was being able to look in Dominique’s eyes and I could see the same glimmer of “can you believe we get to do this right now” reflected back. We never knew it was in the cards for us. My race always has and will always be part of my career equation and a determining factor of its projection. It will always be a determining factor in how im treated, by creatives, by people, by the those in authority over me, including the government and the police. #wasitmyskin

Copied in its entirety here from Cooper Howell’s public Facebook post: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10163696376095054&set=a.10151302685610054&type=3&theater

[mid-weast]

Will you keep it down? | Jeon Jungkook

Summary: You and Jungkook attend the same university and have been neighbors for 3 months now. It drives you crazy that he plays loud music at 2AM, and it drives him crazy that you barely acknowledge his presence.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female!Reader; Black!Reader

Words: 2.6K

Genre: enemies to lovers, student!jungkook, student!reader, fluff, mention of smut, angst? (in the form of bickering back and forth).

Authors note: Hi hi! This is the first fic I’ve ever written so if it’s bad I’m sorry. Also it is unedited so if there's grammar / spelling mistakes I'm sorry again! Also this is catered toward the reader being Black but I hope it can be enjoyed by everyone. Thank you for reading! Feedback is appreciated ok love u bye!

“Y/N? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??!? Open this door RIGHT NOW!”

Even though you were studying in your room, his knocks were so loud you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had expected a reaction, but not a full-on explosion.

You and Jungkook have been apartment neighbors for about three months now, and a constant problem is that he blares his music hella loud late at night. Of course he’s a music major so he listens to music a lot, but at this point you don’t care. It doesn’t even seem like he’s working on composition homework anyway, just being an asshole with no regard for his neighbors peace. Now don’t get yourself wrong, you're not just some uptight bitch who complains about everything. Well, you do have several pet peeves but over the years of going to school in Korea you’ve picked and chosen your battles very wisely. In most cases you let things slide. You wouldn’t care at all about someone playing the music loudly, but it is 2 AM, and while you’re up studying you know a lot of your other neighbors are trying to sleep.

You tiptoe toward your front door and twist the knob slowly. You only open the door wide enough to be able to see his face. It’s not that you’re scared that you’re in danger or anything, and you rarely back down from people giving you a hard time. But you were tired, wearing a big ass t- shirt and short shorts (your regular sleep attire), and it was late at night. So if anything was going to pop off you felt pretty vulnerable. Even though you’re the same age, he towers over you and you find his size kinda intimidating.

As usual, you have to crane your neck to see his face, and your view of him is limited by the narrowness in which

you opened the door.

“Can I help you, lil boy?”

From what you can see of him, right away you can tell that he is pissed. Dawning his usual attire of a black sweatshirt with the hood up, black sweats, and stomp a hoe boots, he stood extremely close to your apartment door with his arms crossed. His usually wide, puppy dog eyes are now pressed in narrow slits. His normally pouty lips are formed in a hard line, and his jaw is so clenched you could carve an ice sculpture with his jawline.

"Who the hell do you think you are? You called the cops on me? Are you INSANE???" Jungkook shouts.

Obviously he's mad, and despite the amount of times you've gone back and forth he's never raised your voice at you. The old you would have screamed back at him, but over time you've tried to respond to anger with calmness. Also, you were a little scared because this mf is kind of big.

"I already told you if you keep blaring your music at 2AM, I was going to do something about it!" You respond in a hushed whisper, slightly concerned that your elderly neighbors will be even more disturbed by the noise. "I've told you this a million times, and you barely do anything about it. If anything, it's gotten worse like you're doing it on purpose. People are trying to sleep and I'm trying to study, why is this so hard for you to understand?"

He sucks his teeth. "You're such a little snitch. And I've already told YOU that YOU can't tell me what to do."

"I know I can't...but they can," you nod toward the exit, referring to the police officers that most likely just left out that way with a tiny smirk growing on your face.

If it was possible, he clenched his jaw even harder and you think that he's going to pop a blood vessel. He pushes his way into your apartment, which sends you stumbling back and you grab the door handle to regain your balance. This causes you to close the door shut.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're-"

He steps right up to you and leans down into your face.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, seriously??? Why are you such an annoying little brat? Just because you're a nerd with no friends who gets no play doesn't mean you can take your bitterness out on me.”

You have to laugh in his face at this point because hello??? First of all, who is he talking to? Second of all, you have told him a BUNCH of times to turn his music down late at night. You didn't think that was too much to ask. As far as you were concerned, being aware of your noise level when you live in an apartment is the universal bare minimum for being a human being.

"ME? Who do you think YOU are? Actually let me tell you. You're an entitled little rich boy who thinks he runs the world. I don't give a fuck about how popular you are on campus, how many people fall at your feet to be around you, and how many hoes you have, you cant talk to ME like that. And how are you going to try and tell me about myself when it's too much of a task for you to be a decent neighbor? I've never done anything to blatantly bother you, so why can you just.." You started to panic because usually when you raise your voice out of anger, your voice cracks and tears threaten to pool out of your eyes, but you tried to get a grip and not back down..."why can you just be nice to me so we can live in peace? Is that too hard for you???"

He looked kind of taken aback by your question. Being nice to you? It never crossed his mind. Also, you kind of had a point. When the semester started and you both moved in on the same day, you would shoot him a small, friendly smile in passing but you never seemed interested in getting to know him. He always wondered why that was. It's not that he had a problem talking with girls, since all he had to do was breathe and girls would come flocking around him, but you would flat out ignore him. Even at all the major parties at the beginning of the year and on Thursday nights when students take over the clubs in the city, you'd barely even acknowledge him. He KNEW that you had seen him too, since you would make eye contact, but you acted like he was just another guy at the club.

And he'd be lying if he said you weren't fine. You had thick thighs, a beautiful face, nice curves, and always wore outfits that hugged you in the right places. He always wondered what it would feel like to wrap his arms around your body and press it against his own. He would constantly sneak peaks of you throughout the night at the club, but something stirred in him when he saw that you were chatting up other guys. Was he...jealous? Jealous that you were so eager to pay attention to these dudes who, in his opinion, were decent looking but they were nowhere near his level, and you never even gave him a second thought? One night he even saw you leaving with a man he knew through mutual friends, and he had to physically stop himself from breaking the glass he was holding, because that guy, while objectively handsome, was nothing compared to him. Jungkook wasn't blatantly cocky, but he let his talent, charm, and looks speak for themselves. He was THEE Jeon Jungkook, and nothing ever really bothered him....except you.

Was he....interested in you? Nah, that can't be it. You were some random chick who happened to be his neighbor, who also is one of the only girls he's met that doesn't give two fucks about even having small talk with him, and that infuriated him for some reason. So the first time you came knocking on his door in an adorable pink satin pajama set with a matching bonnet complaining about his loud music, he knew the game he had to play.

He's still standing over you, centimeters away from you face, but you notice that his eyes soften a little and so does his jaw. He unclenches the fists he was holding crossed against his chest

You continue, “I don't care what you do, and I'm DEFINITELY trying to run your messy ass life. Believe me," you scoff, "you don't have enough money to pay me to do that. But when your dickhole behavior fucks with MY life is when it's a problem. And it's BEEN a problem."

He rolls his eyes. "Whatever, little girl, maybe I should call you little mouse now, since now I know that you'll go squeaking to the cops now, don't fuck with me or my music again.”

Without moving your head you look him up and down with a confused expression. "Am I supposed to be scared of you? No seriously, you look like you cry during Disney movies while wearing footie pajamas, and now here you are throwing a fit because I forced you to stop bothering the entire wing with your music?"

Girl...what are you saying??? This man just barged into YOUR place, is in your face, and is strong enough to pick you up and throw you, and you’re insulting him? But you figured if he's going to be rude, you'll throw it right back because you're tired of his bullshit.

Whatever softness he was feeling for a fleeting moment immediately left, and annoyance once again washed over. He straightens up a bit and puts on that annoying confident smirk he wears when he thinks he's won arguments between you two.

"You should be nicer to me, all it will take is for me to tweet one thing about you, and you'll be the most hated person on campus."

At this point, any suspicions that you had about him annoying you on purpose were confirmed. You've concluded that this mf is a bully and you, small and shy but not one to take mess, will put him in his place to-motherfucking-night.

You take a step toward him, now crossing your arms tightly against your chest, but he doesn't even move a hair backwards.

"Clearly you need a rude awakening so here it is. I don't know what type of people you've dealt with all your life, always saying yes to you, letting you boss them around and taking whatever bullshit you dish out, but let me tell you I am not the one. Never have been and never will be. Unlike the other fools around here who cream their pants at the mention of your name, I don't care about who you are. You'll respect ME and MY peace as long as we're neighbors, you get me?"

Now y/n, you have never so boldly stood up to someone, where did that come from, babes? You've tried to not let this entitled little boy get to you this whole time, but with him standing in front of you in the middle of your apartment with that extremely annoying, yet handsome, smirk on his face, and after all the crap he's said tonight, he had you all the way fucked up.

After you said that, he just laughed and looked away. Now you’re standing there fuming and confused...was there a joke you missed? You were being dead serious!

"Something funny?" you ask, narrowing your eyes.

"Nothing, just thinking about how I want to face fuck that annoying little mouth of yours so you finally shut up.”

Your jaw almost dropped to the floor. You've never had a guy say something so blatantly rude and vulgar literally inches away from your face. But again, you weren't going to back down.

"Oh really?" Scoffing and tilting your head to the side a bit while narrowing your eyes even more, "I'd very much like to do the same. Maybe then you'll learn your place."

"Oh please, princess, you probably blanch when someone around you even mentions the word sex." He chuckles and leans down close toward your face again and cocks his head to the side, scrunching his nose and in a pouty voice said, "you're fooling no one, but keep trying, maybe you'll get there.”

You're even more annoyed than you were before, if that was even possible. But if he wanted to play this game, you might as well go there with him. It's true, you were a bit more prudent than more, but it pissed you off that he could tell. Regardless, you do know some things to say that could have him leaving with his tail between his legs.

You pouted your lips and in a babying tone said, “Aww sweetheart you have no idea. You think you're big and bad but like I said, you probably cry watching Disney movies. The same way you'd be crying, begging me to let you cum down my throat as I mercilessly toy with your cock for hours.”

Now it's his turn to go pale. Y/n, his stuck up neighbor who has barely even spared him five seconds of her time just threatened to edge him into submission? He has to pinch himself because he must be dreaming....

“Well I-“

“But I don't even think we’d make it that far, hun” you continue, “because in order to humble your egotistical, disrespectful ass, I'm gonna have to ride your face until you suffocate. And when the paramedics come and I have to explain how you died, I won't even hesitate to tell them that you were a punk ass loser who LITERALLY drowned in my pussy!”

You don’t know who this person speaking is, but it is not you. All of the pent up hostility you’ve held towards him just flooded out of you and you couldn’t stop the words from coming out. To be honest you shocked yourself, but you still stood there with your arms crossed and your face unfaltering, just waiting for him to say something smart back.

He stared at you silently, eyes wider than you’ve seen before and his mouth hung slightly open. He wasn’t expecting you to respond with so much fire, but now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until the image you painted came true. His brain said fuck it, and his lips crashed down onto yours. The kiss is sloppy but passionate, and you swore you heard him quietly whimper.

When he feels you starting to kiss back, he smirks into the kiss. Your lips are moving against each other in tandem, and all thoughts about how much you despise the prick fades away. As you uncrossed your arms and placed them on his chest, you could feel his heart beating wildly. Was he as nervous as you were this whole time? You wonder. You knew he was a player, so he was experienced. But the thought that you made him nervous gave you a tiny confidence boost. His hands slowly slide up the sides of your body to sneak behind your back, to pull you further into his chest. As much as your brain was telling you to resist him and push him away, you couldn't help but fall victim to how soft his lips felt against yours. Suddenly you feel airborne as he swiftly reaches down behind your thighs and picks you up. You instinctively gasp but he doesn’t miss a beat, simply biting your lower lip and locking your lips together again.

“Maybe we should test that scenario of yours, and if it comes true, that wouldn’t be the worst way for me to go” he says, doing that annoying but soul-crushingly handsome smirk he likes to wear as he carries you off to your bedroom.

[anonymousfiction211]

Handcuffed Together: 16

Not again ‘I- what?’ you asked groggily.

‘Just here, take some water. Take it easy for a few minutes’ Loki said while handing you a bottle of water.

You opened the bottle and took a sip. You closed it and handed it back to Loki. Closing your eyes you let the headache past, while leaning against the side of the transparent box the two of you were in.

‘(Y/N)?’ Loki asked

You didn’t respond.

‘(Y/N)?’ he tried again. ‘Please say something’ he said after you still didn’t respond.

‘Don’t’ you finally answered.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked

‘Like I have the worst hangover in my life. The fact that I’m handcuffed to you, doesn’t make it any better’ you grumbled.

Loki stayed silent for a while. You were focusing on how your body was aching, your head still pounding and how you wanted nothing more than to closer your eyes and sleep.

‘I thought you would be happy to see me again’ Loki softly spoke.

‘Fucking thrilled’ you replied sarcastically.

‘Can you drop the attitude for one second and actually talk to me like an adult?’ Loki snapped.

‘WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? TALKING LIKE AN ADULT? WHEN ALL YOU DO IS LEAVE LIKE THE SCARED LITTLE CHILD THAT YOU ARE’ you yelled at him.

Loki visibly flinched at your anger, and a part of you wanted nothing more than to cuddle closer and work it all out. But the other part, the part that had waited five months for Loki come back, contact you or at least give you some sort of sign that he was okay, couldn’t be ignored.

‘I did it for your safety’ Loki answered.

‘My safety?’ you scoffed. ‘And how did that work out…’ you gestured at the box the two of you were sitting in.

‘It not my fault that you followed that second-rate sorcerer to the Collector!’ Loki defensively said.

‘It’s not? The only reason he was going, was because he heard that you were here. God, what the hell have you been up to all this time?’ you asked.

‘Well, trapped in a box. In case you hadn’t noticed’ he sarcastically replied.

‘Seriously?’ you shot back. ‘And who was able to catch the great God of Mischief and running away?’

‘Thanos’ Loki replied sharply.

‘What?’ you asked in disbelief

‘Thanos got to the Collector first. Apparently there is a price on my head, and yours too. In case you forget the promise that was made to me’ he looked away from you, staring at the empty box beside yours.

‘I haven’t’ you whispered.

‘Well anyway, even tough we’re in trouble, we’re together. Isn’t this what you wanted? As long as we are together’ he mocked.

‘If this was so inevitable why leave?’ you hissed.

‘Because that was the only way to keep you as safe as possible. And I didn’t leave you alone, the whole team was there. I’m sure by now there is half a plan in place? Can you tell me about it?’ he asked.

Now it was your time to look away. ‘I don’t know’ you shrugged.

‘You don’t know?’ Loki asked surprised.

‘No, I don’t know’ you bitterly answered.

‘Why don’t you know? What have you guys been doing for the last months?’ he asked.

‘Never mind’ you said.

He grabbed the side of your cheek with his free hand to make you look at him. ‘I hope you and your team have not underestimated this threat’ Loki said. You saw the anger filling his eyes.

You slapped the hand resting on your cheek away. ‘Of course, we haven’t! The team has been working really hard. It’s insulting to suggest otherwise’ you said.

‘Then, why don’t you know?’ Loki asked again.

‘BECAUSE, I haven’t been part of the team a few weeks after you left. HAPPY NOW?’ you half yelled.

‘WHAT?’ Loki asked in disbelief.

‘Never mind, I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to get some sleep. How do you even sleep in this tiny excuse for a prison’ you grumbled. The prison box had coloured see through glass. It was about two meters high, but only 2 by 1 meters wide. With two people, it didn’t give you much room to sleep.

Loki just shrugged. ‘I laid down on the ground. You can sleep if you want, I will sit here and wake you if anything happens’ he said.

You didn’t bother to reply, but laid down on the floor as he stayed sitting up. When you laid down you shuffled as far away from him as possible. If it weren’t for the cuff you would have turned your back. The only thing you could think of was sleep and holding back your tears.

 A horrible scream woke you up. Frantically you started to look around. The room was dark, but there were some lights here and there. Loki put a hand on your back.

‘Sshh, it’s okay’ he shushed you. Rubbing slowly up and down your back.

‘Who is screaming?’ you whispered.

‘I don’t know, but it isn’t you, so I don’t care’ he replied.

‘How are you so calm?’ you asked.

‘I’ve been here a while and there is sort of a routine’ he said.

Loki explained that the Collector collected valuable objects and in these boxes were his entire collection. Sometimes he needs information from his objects that he can sell, if they don’t give it he has other ways to make them talk. In the morning the boxes would move in different positions. He often had tours through his collection, but he never showed Loki. Afraid that someone will try to capture him and bring him to Thanos. Food and water were provided in the morning and at the end of the day by the slaves that were responsible for it. There were scheduled bathroom times and every two days there was the option to take a shower.

He told you that he was on Sakaar for a while, but had to leave, because he had run out of favour with the person running the place. After that he was on Asgard for a short while, but couldn’t tell Thor about it. When he was stealing some food for his next destination, he heard Thor talk about the Collector. The idea that this men had one of the stones didn’t sit right with Loki. He had planned to take the stone and bring it to the Avengers. But Thanos beat him to it, and before he knew it he woke up in this box, where he has been this entire time.

‘Do you know how late it is now?’ you asked.

‘About three o’clock in the middle of the night. You should really get some more rest, kitten’ a small smile appeared on his face.

‘Firstly, don’t call me that. I have a name. And secondly, don’t you have to sleep?’ you asked.

‘What? Kitten? I thought you liked that name’ he purred. ‘And I wanted to give you some space. If I also lay down, things will get very cosy. Not that I mind of course’

‘I’m not going to let you fuck me into another relationship. I’ve spent the last five months getting over you and did that very easily. So, do what you want’ you sat as emotionless as you could.

‘You do know I’m also the God of Lies, right?’ Loki mused.

‘Just shut up. And how is the temperature controlled in this thing?’ you asked, starting to shiver from the cold a bit.

Loki smirked before answering your question ‘It’s an automatic system. I’m afraid there is not much we can do about it’ he said.

‘Fine, just stay away or go to sleep, I don’t care’ you said before laying back on the floor again. Trying to keep your shivering to a minimal.

For a moment Loki didn’t move. Once your breathing was even and slow he moved. You weren’t asleep but were too tired to respond. He had laid down two. Your face was close to his chest and your cuffed hands were almost touching. The both of you were on your sides. Ignoring the closeness, you fell asleep.

You woke up again, getting used to your new environment was not doing much good for you sleep schedule. Loki had put his arm underneath your head and you were with your head against his chest. On one side you wanted to leave, on the other side, you had missed this. That’s when you noticed Loki’s jacket, he had wrapped it around your body as much as the handcuffs would allow it. You closed your eyes and fell back asleep again, deciding to make a decision about Loki in the morning.

Permanent taglist: @delightfulheartdream @the-best-phineas @theaudacitytowrite @pescadoavocado @taurusbeing​ @theestorm @justacripple 

Story taglist: @l0nelyasian​ @mrsdarcyinlovewithbuckybarnes​ @ragweed98​ @thehornytitties​ @morganmofresh​ @saiyanstars​ @rahne85​ @charistory​ @not-your-bitch​ @kamrynnnnn​ @kokinu09​ @dustychinchilla74 @clarawolf22 @citrineasguardian​

[peaceoutofthepieces]

Could you do No. 23. for Sterek? From the kissing prompt?

I cannot thank you enough for this ask

23. now-or-never kiss

Stiles figured if he was going to die, doing so in an abandoned building with none other than Derek Hale was a pretty unsurprising and not-too-bad way to go, all things considered. It really seemed to surmise the course his life had taken the past few years, that he was past the point of allowing this to cause a panic. After all, he wasn’t actually dead—he wasn’t, in fact, even injured—and they had escaped worse situations than this. It wasn’t all over yet.

It wasn’t entirely reassuring that Derek was their more likely method of escape and he was slumped and panting in the corner, sure, but panting meant he was breathing, so really, Stiles wasn’t too worried.

They weren’t even locked in, a lack of precaution that was honestly a little insulting, in Stiles’s opinion.

“Okay,” he said, more to himself than Derek because Derek was, well, still slumped and panting away. “This is fine.”

“How is this fine?” Derek grit. “No one knows where we are.”

“There’s not even a door. It’s just a bit of mountain ash. Do they not know I’m human, or do they just think we’re really dumb?”

“They know it doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t get far.”

Stiles squawked, waving his arms as he shot Derek an offended look. “Why the hell not?”

Derek gave him a very deadpan look.

“Okay, fine, so maybe I’d struggle on my own. But all we need to do is wait for you to heal, I’ll break the barrier, you go all grrr, and we’re free.”

“I won’t heal.”

Stiles paused, swiveling slowly from where he’d been eyeing the mountain ash barrier to eye Derek instead. “Come again?”

“I won’t heal.”

Stiles stared at him, then flailed again, stomping over to where Derek was slouched and leaning down to hiss at him. “Tell me you didn’t avoid telling me you were injured with wolfsbane. I swear to God, Derek, if you tell me you’re freaking dying—"

“I wasn’t,” Derek growled, though it was really more gasp-y. Which was somehow not as appealing as the growl, in this particular context. Any other occasion, and Stiles could probably get behind eith— “Injured with wolfsbane, that is.” He peeled his hand away from his side just long enough to show Stiles the ordinary, bloody bullet wound, no concerning poison-symptoms in sight. He reapplied pressure with a pained grunt. “Dying is looking higher on the list of possibilities, though.”

“If there’s no wolfsbane, why the hell won’t you heal?” Stiles grit out, lowering himself to his knees barely a foot from Derek’s side. “Because I know for a fact you had enough power to maim with both teeth and claws on our way in here, so we’re not doing that whole thing again. So you need to just spit out whatever it is because you’re bordering on Deaton levels of cryp—"

“Maybe if you stopped talking long enough for me to get a word in, you’d already know by now,” Derek snapped, which Stiles would let him get away with on this one occasion when he was, in fact, bleeding and grimacing quite a bit. “I wasn’t shot with it, but it’s—I can feel it, everywhere.”

Stiles leaned back on his heels, brow furrowing. “What? What the hell does that mean? Like the air…?”

Derek shook his head. “I don’t know. My guess is they’ve somehow lined the walls with it. Or it’s buried, under the ground.”

“And it’s enough to stop you from healing?”

“Looks like it.”

Again, Stiles would ignore the tone, just this once. “So the literal building is going to be how you die a slow and painful death? By the way, I’d watch the tone if you think I’m about to save your wolf-y ass.”

Derek huffed, but the accompanying smile was more exasperated fondness than condescending, which was a lot of progress. It also wasn’t helping the state of Stiles’s heart, which wasn’t sure if it should burst out of sheer panic or shrivel on the spot. “I’d love to hear how you’re planning on doing that.”

“I’ve done it in arguably worse situations before,” Stiles pointed out, but it was too wavering, too tinged with softness to be considered defensive.

Derek softened in the face of it, and his free—though still bloody—hand settled over one of Stiles’s, gripping gently. “I know. But someone—someone will come in enough time. I’m—“ He did gasp, this time, pained and a little wet, and Stiles squeezed his hand tightly, wishing for once that he wasn’t so human if only it meant he could take someone’s pain. “I’m sorry you’re still the one who thinks you have to. I’m sorry I failed you again.”

“You never failed me before,” Stiles bit, though his voice betrayed him by cracking in the middle. “You don’t get to do that. We’re even. You’ve helped me just as much, that’s what we do.”

Derek lifted his hand from Stiles’s long enough to raise it to Stiles’s face and thumb away the tears before dropping it back down. “Stiles, your heart,” he said softly. “You need to calm down.”

“Do not tell me to calm down when you’re saying stupid shit and holding my hand because you think you’re going to—“ Stiles cut himself off this time and took a steadying breath. “What do you expect me to do?”

“Scott will come,” Derek said insistently. “He always does.”

“And what if he doesn’t? You said it yourself, no one knows where we are. By the time they even realise we’re gone, it’ll be too late, even for me. If there’s a chance I can save both of us, I have to try.”

“I can’t let you die for me,” Derek whispered.

“And I can’t let you die,” Stiles said harshly. He shifted a foot under him and scooted closer, now down on one knee in the world’s worst proposal. “Look, even if Scott and the others got here, they’d have the same problem as you, right?”

“Argent, or even Theo could—”

“Theo could get past the mountain ash, not the wolfsbane, and if you think I’d rely on him to save your life, you’re even d—”

“Stiles—”

“Derek. We’d have no way of knowing they’d even bring Argent or anyone with them if they actually managed to find us, and that’s a big if. Meaning our best luck would still be me, maybe Lydia if we’re lucky. Why can’t you admit I have to be the one who does something?”

Derek stared silently back at him, the grip on his side growing tighter. His golden skin had paled, no longer offering much contrast to Stiles’s.

“Come on, Derek. Don’t you trust me?”

“Maybe I just don’t want you to go,” Derek said. “Maybe I just want you to stay here.”

The ‘with me’ was unspoken, but implied, Stiles thought, which really made this whole horrible situation all the more horrible. “I wouldn’t leave you behind,” he argued, raising his hand to Derek’s cheek in a reverse of their earlier exchange. “I’m taking you with me.”

Derek shook his head, his stubble brushing Stiles’s fingers. “Do you even have a plan?”

“Do you trust me?” Stiles reiterated. When Derek only leaned wordlessly into his touch, he went on. “I did actually pick up a few things on my FBI training, you know. Plus I have the bonus points of a few years’ life experience with this pack. All of whom I’m pretty sure I’ve saved at one point or another, you know.”

Derek let out a pained sigh, but softly admitted, “I know.”

“I’m not leaving you behind,” Stiles repeated. “You know the lengths I’d go to. You really think they’d be able to stop me?”

Derek finally laughed at that, a choked, wet sound that had Stiles’s heart fluttering all the same. “I really think you’d surprise them, and me.”

Stiles surged forward, moving his hand around to the back of Derek’s neck as he pressed their foreheads together. “Trust me,” he murmured. “Tell me I can do it and I will.”

Derek’s lashes fluttered, then his gaze steadied on Stiles and he nodded. “Go.”

Stiles nodded with him, giving Derek’s neck one tight squeeze before rising to his feet, mind already whirring. “Are your senses still working enough to suss out the place?”

He waited, listening carefully as Derek did his best to tell him what heartbeats were where, how many there were, and together they worked out which route he could take that would be easiest to clear. If he could free up one single pathway long enough to come back and get Derek out and free of the wolfsbane walls, he’d be back up and growling and they would have a fighting chance.

As far as plans went, it wasn’t their best, though Stiles was willing to bet they’d had worse. The fact they hadn’t been killed on the spot instead of imprisoned suggested that worse case scenario, they were prepared enough for the probability that Stiles would try to escape and simply planned to toss him back in.

It was this or nothing, and Stiles had to do something if he wanted Derek to survive.

When he was finally moving to break the barrier and go, he looked over his shoulder and met Derek’s gaze. His heart froze for a moment as the unwanted memory surfaced, and then kicked into overdrive. Derek heard it, if the concerned furrow in his brow was any suggestion, and suddenly Stiles couldn’t.

“Yeah, not doing this again,” he muttered, which only seemed to deepen Derek’s confusion as Stiles marched back to him and dropped to his knees once more. His hand once again raised to Derek’s cheek, and as Derek’s eyes widened in apparent understanding, he thought, well, chances are it’s now or never.

Then he leaned in and kissed him.

Derek returned it with all the strength he seemed to have, free hand coming up to cup Stiles’s head and thread through his hair as he pressed immediately and insistently closer, and Stiles let out a breath.

“Oh, thank God,” he gasped, and Derek only swallowed it up, licking into Stiles’s mouth with surprising finesse for someone who was covered in their own blood. Just when Stiles had been thinking he couldn’t love the asshole any more.

He really couldn’t let him die. Which meant he should really go and work on saving them. Then, hopefully Derek would let him try this again, when there wasn’t any chance of it just being driven by the thought he might never get to kiss anyone ever again and Stiles would do for a last taste.

Not that Stiles didn’t dream of being just that, but he hoped it would be years down the line. He hoped he got to taste a lot more of Derek a lot more before then, and vice versa.

So Stiles should really go, but as he leaned back, Derek’s grip on his hair tightened, and he followed. And Stiles would never allow anyone to call him weak, but he was also only so strong. Derek Hale was kissing him and didn’t seem to want to stop, and Stiles wasn’t stupid enough to argue with him before it was absolutely necessary.

Which it became about ten seconds later, when Stiles heard the distinct sounds of gunfire.

Only, Derek was still kissing him.

Stiles pulled back with a small noise that was half-protest, half-warning, and still Derek followed. “Derek,” Stiles got out, a moan-gasp that didn’t really convey the urgent need to stop. “Derek, dude, don’t you hear that?”

“You just had your tongue in my mouth and you’re calling me dude?”

“That’s what you—can’t you hear that? Your senses were fine a second ago! Oh my god, are you dying? If you’re dying—”

A familiar roar cut across Stiles’s panic, and his eyes widened as Derek’s brows rose.

“That, I heard,” Derek said. Then, “And there’s nothing worse about my senses. You’re just more distracting than the wolfsbane.”

The words took a moment to sink in, and then Stiles couldn’t fight a dopey grin, or the urge to lean in and kiss Derek again. He was pretty sure he had time now, after all, and Derek still seemed very much like this was something he actually wanted, if the increasingly-sloppy but dedicated response was anything to go by.

“Stiles? Stil—oh, shit.”

Stiles whipped around in time to see Scott freeze beyond the doorway, eyes caught on them and lips parted in surprise. When his eyes met Stiles’s, they widened and he winced, shrugging at his best friend in an apologetic manner. “Sorry,” he said awkwardly.

“What are you apologising for?” Derek said dryly. “Saving our lives, again?”

“I mean, he did steal my opportunity to prove to you that I can do that just as well, so maybe he shou—ow.” Stiles cut off as Derek released his hair and smacked him upside the head, whipping around to shoot him a look of betrayal.

Scott looked like he was swallowing laughter, which did not do him any favours in Stiles’s book. “When I actually get you out, you can thank me.”

Then he stepped forward, smack-bang into the mountain ash barrier. “Shit, fuck. Stiles, what the hell? You can break this. You guys aren’t even trapped, why are you—”

Stiles moved out of the way and gestured emphatically to Derek’s wounded side, then their general surroundings.

“Oh,” Scott said. “So I was feeling that right, wasn’t I? There’s wolfsbane somewhere.”

“Everywhere,” Malia called, as Theo appeared at Scott’s side. He paused there, eyes flickering from Scott to Stiles and Derek. He smirked slightly and scuffed his foot through the mountain ash.

“How did you all even get in here?” Stiles demanded.

“Stiles,” Lydia sighed, marching to Scott’s other side and barely blinking at the way Stiles and Derek were still folded together. “The door is like ten feet away.”

“And there were only two guards at it,” Scott shrugged.

“Was harder to get the ones in here,” Liam called. “But still fine, because none of them actually know how to even throw a punch.”

“And you have plenty of experience,” Stiles muttered, causing Derek to huff beside him. Stiles turned back to him and couldn’t help the uptick of his lips before he realised the older man had basically turned grey with the blood loss. “Yeah, okay, we gotta go.”

Derek grimaced and nodded at him, and it was somewhat gratifying that no one moved to ‘help’ as Stiles hoisted him to his feet. Derek leaned on him heavily, but it was nothing Stiles couldn’t take. It was only more motivating when ‘now or never’ was slipping into the possibility of forever.

kiss list

[brittanyslibrary]

Small Victories ➤ Levi Ackerman

Summary: The special training course you opted into was fast paced, exhausting, and downright brutal. Even so, you were determined to become a sorely needed field medic for the Survey Corps, knowing it would most likely lead to your demise.

You couldn’t lie, a part of you also just wanted to prove to Captain Levi that you were far more than just Titan bait…

You knew, going into this, you’d be on the front lines. Commander Erwin had informed you the day he went over your file that you would be stationed close to the Special Ops squad; where you were needed most.

You knew that, and yet, as you watched a soldier’s flailing legs disappear into the 10 meter’s mouth, heard his deafening screams piercing the humid air, smelled the irony scent of blood, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d been in over your head.

Perhaps Captain Levi had been right about you.

“All you medic types are the same,” he’d told you the first time he’d ever met you. “Self sacrificial, stubborn, and fucking stupid”

It was then that you decided you would prove him wrong.

You leaned over a fallen comrade, clinging to life despite the gaping chunk taken out of his thigh. He couldn’t have been older than seventeen, openly weeping for his mother as his body trembled.

I can’t leave him, I can’t leave him, I can’t leave him.

The rumbling of titan footsteps shook the ground beneath you, but you knew you’d lose your nerve if you turned to look at them ambling towards you. So, you opted to keep your face set as your hands worked on instinct.

His eyes were wide and pleading as he searched your immediate surroundings for any sign of the Special Ops Squad. You’d been separated from them when you saw the kid, amidst all the chaos, nearly lose his entire leg to a four meter titan.

You were grateful they’d taught you how to slay the ugly bastards, but you could hardly perform your medical duties while killing the titans that were heading straight for you.

And if you didn’t stop the bleeding soon….

“You’re alright, you’re gonna be fine,” your assurances left your lips like a mantra while you wound thick, cotton bandages over his thigh.

“They’re coming…they’re coming straight for us,” he wailed.

“Let them come, but I’ll be damned if you’re gonna give up when we’ve still got a fighting chance” you snapped, tying the bandage as tight as you could. “You’re gonna have to lean on me and use your other leg. I can’t carry you to the cart like this” you informed him.

By now, both of your clothes were soaked in his blood. As he hobbled to the abandoned cart, where your horse was waiting to pull it, you could practically feel the titans on top of you.

You could picture their smiling faces, eager to devour you.

The boy, who’s name you learned to be Asmund, scooted as far back onto the cart as he could with his busted leg. Hope bloomed in your chest as you tossed your supply bag beside him.

You were going to make it.

He was screaming again, but not for the sorry state of his leg. He was screaming your name, urging you to hurry because there was a titan directly behind you and if you didn’t get your ass onto the horse it was going to-

You felt its fingers wind themselves around your shoulders, upper arms and torso. It squeezed you in its palm, causing your eyes to bulge and silencing the scream that sat poised on your tongue.

You were done for, you knew that much. All that was left to do was close your eyes and think of him, the man who would, no doubt, blame himself for the loss of your life.

The first time you’d offered to help the Captain with his paperwork, he’d scoffed at the notion and told you to leave him alone.

You brought tea the next time, and he finally allowed you the allotted space in his office, giving you your own personal stack of papers to date and check.

“Your lack of sleep is going to catch up with you, Captain” you’d told him as you dipped your pen in the ink well. “You’re pushing your body too far when you only allow it a few hours’ rest. I’m surprised you’ve made it this long without fainting, truthfully”

You worried for him the way a spouse would worry after their partner, but you never wanted to admit that to yourself.

“Yeah? So what?” he paused his furious pen strokes to level you with a glare.

“You should take better care of yourself,” you murmured gently.

“You should mind your own damn business” was his curt reply.

You weren’t certain if it was the reflection of the candle flame or the shadows on his face playing tricks, but you could have sworn you saw a blush rise to his cheeks.

“Nice work!” Petra commended you with a slap on the back and a grin on her face. Out of Levi’s Squad, she was by far the most welcoming.

“Yeah, you almost beat my time. Too bad I’m far more skilled than anyone here” Oluo smirked from his seat against a tree trunk.

You’d done well for yourself in training, only having two years to complete your cadet training rather than the usual four granted to everyone else. You were much older than them, as well, and stuck out like a sore thumb. So, admiring your handy work in the form of slain titan dummies, you were rather proud.

“You used too much gas,” Levi drawled, coming up to kick at one of your near empty canisters.

His eyes were narrowed as he glared at you, waiting for a proper response.

“I’m sorry Captain, I..I guess I hadn’t realized how much I’d been using” you winced as his glare sharpened.

“You didn’t realize, huh,” he circled you like a predator, eyeing your taut form as he did so. “Perhaps you’ll realize it when you’re halfway down a disgusting titan’s gullet. Perhaps you’ll realize when you’re stranded in the middle of an open plain and crushed under one of their feet”

He stopped, suddenly, directly in front of you. He was so close you could make out the dark circles under his eyes and the lines at his brow.

“A stupid mistake, I can always count on that from you” he spoke your name as if it were an insult. All the while, his face showed no sign of anything but irritation.

You hated that you cared so much about what he thought of you.

“I’ll do better next time” you whispered, voice hoarse.

“Outside the walls, there won’t be a next time!” his volume had grown steadily, as he was all but shouting now. “You get careless and then you’re dead. You get yourself killed out there, and we lose you, and then that’s another fucking life…wasted”

The others had enough sense to ditch this situation when it first began, which had left you and Levi by yourselves between the trees.

He quickly turned away, crossing the grounds swiftly enough that you barely had time to analyze what the hell he’d just come out with.

The Captain cared about all his soldiers, you assured yourself to quell the pounding in your chest.

It probably meant nothing.

You heard your name again, this time from a completely different direction.

.. The titan’s jaws were just below you as you dangled from its grasp. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t even think of anything besides the smell of the gaping mouth you were about to be shoved into.

And Levi, your Captain, a man who was so gentle if you could just break through the tough outer shell he hid behind.

He was calling out to you, desperation you’d never heard from him before apparent in his shouts.

You caught a glimpse of him, swords drawn and determination set in his grey eyes. He was fast, but you knew he wouldn’t be fast enough.

You accepted this as the hot tears fell slowly down your cheeks.

.. “I enjoy your company, Captain Levi” you confessed to him from your seat at the other side of his desk. The paperwork lay abandoned in front of you, as you had far better things to look at than the ink on those pages.

Levi coughed and nearly dropped his pen at your sudden proclamation. His eyes had grown wider than usual, and he outright refused to look at you, acknowledge what you’d said.

“You don’t have to say anything, I understand” you spoke slowly, solemnly. “It’s just..you aren’t like anyone I’ve met before. You try so hard to shut people out with your harsh words and constant glaring, but you care far more than you let on. I think, I think you’re the first person in this damn regiment that actually gave a shit about me”

You noticed his knuckles had turned white with the force that he was gripping his pen.

The expedition was tomorrow; you might never get a chance to tell him this.

“Maybe in another life, maybe if we had more time, maybe….we could have loved each other” you pushed the seat out from under you, standing straight as a pin.

Once the words had left your lips to hang tensely in the air between you two, you were unable to gather enough nerve to look at him.

“I just wanted you to know that, in case something happens to me when we-“

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you” he rasped, head bowed over the page, pen still gripped in his hand.

“How can you be so sure?” you smiled sadly.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you, because I….because I won’t let it”

The conviction laced in his words left no room for you to doubt him.

You’d done your duty, left with no regret about stopping to help that young cadet that had an entire life ahead of him.

But you did regret leaving behind the Captain, leaving him with your awkward confession and never, ever getting to find out what his lips tasted like.

As you fell into the titan’s mouth, you thought Levi probably tasted like the tea he drank.

Everything ached and burned when you came to. Your eyes blinked heavily at a dark ceiling, your lips parting slightly as the warmth from the sunlight streaming in soaked into your cold skin.

You must have been back home, back inside the walls. The thin, white sheets and itchy cot you were laying on was enough to know that. How could you have possibly made it back?

The titan ate you, didn’t it?

“I told you,” you jumped at the figure beside you, groaning as your body protested the sudden movement.

You turned your head slowly, shocked and incredibly relieved to see none other than the Captain himself sitting on a wooden chair beside your bed.

His body was hunched forward, arms folded over his knees and shoulders pulled forward. His eyes immediately softened when you smiled at him, and he let out a ragged breath.

“How?” was all you could manage to choke out. The familiar stirring in your chest had become an erratic rhythm of pounding and fluttering.

“I almost didn’t make it in time,” his gaze fell to his lap. “You were in its mouth by the time I made it to you. If I’d sliced its jaw open a moment later, you would have been down its throat” he squeezed his eyes shut, as if the memory was replaying before him.

You sucked in a breath, wondering just how far he’d gone to ensure your safety.

“You saved me….when anyone else would have thought it to be a lost cause. You didn’t give up on me..” you trailed off as your vision began to blur with unshed tears.

The silence that followed was deafening.

Just when you thought he’d take his leave, he spoke again.

“I don’t know what love feels like, but I know that I don’t want to fucking lose you”

All that brutal training, all those insults when you’d made careless mistakes, all those nights spent filling out paperwork at the same desk, they all finally had meaning.

How could you not have read the signs before? How could you have not noticed the subtle way he cared for you?

You reached a shaky hand forward, grasping his calloused one in a gentle caress.

“You don’t have to,” the promise in your eyes when he finally spared you a glance grounded him.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he stuttered, a fierce blush over his pale face. “I’ve never been good at this bullshit” he muttered.

“We can learn together..if you’d like to move forward with this” you bit at your lower lip, face hot and heart lodged in your throat.

Levi’s lips curved up into the tiniest smile you’d ever seen, but it was a smile nonetheless. A small victory.

“Fine, just…don’t tell Hange. They placed a bet with Erwin, and I don’t wanna give them the satisfaction of winning….”

** did tumblr always have this stupid word block limit bc that's whack. I tried to make this as gender neutral as possible without being vague, hope y'all enjoyed !! **