#Do you ever actually think about how they just had all the angel actors drop a plastic poker out of their sleeve and that is the extent of | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr posted its first advertisements in May 2012 and subsequently earned $13M in revenue.

#Do you ever actually think about how they just had all the angel actors drop a plastic poker out of their sleeve and that is the extent of

colourstreakgryffin · 2 months

Note

Hi I’m the anon who submitted the ‘Hi! I hope you’re having a good day, I was wondering if you could do a platonic fanfic with parental Husk and Angel dust with a teen reader who tries to sneak out to prove their ‘adult’ enough to go out on their own. Maybe they get caught w a secret S/O 🤔’ ask and to answer your question I think a Huskerdust parental duo would be killer, thanks!

Hmmm… okaaay! That can work! This is my first Angel Dust writing as well! Let’s just pretend HuskerDust isn’t built on sexual harassment and that these two get married after a healthy relationship— just a little AU for a, could be, cute couple… if it’s handled better! Also, sorry… this is kinda short

Husk and Angel Dust- Growing Up

Before anything starts. Let’s establish how these two gay dads treat their adoptive teenage child!

Husk is a doting and caring but also strict and wise father. He gives off the most brutal but truthful advice and reality facts. He is a loving parent and won’t tolerate his child being mistreated or bullied so you can always turn to him when upset or in need for help, he is emotionally intelligent and protective after all

Angel, on the other hand, is the most affectionate and mindful father you’ll ever meet and have. He isn’t the one to deal out the punishments, he’s the fun one. Playing with his child, giving them unconditional love, support and encouragement but he is also quite protective. He will come running at the drop of a hat

Whilst both Husk and Angel encourage their kid to be independent and not rely so much on them, they aren’t a fan of letting you out on your own. You are still fifteen and therefore, completely vulnerable to this nightmarish hellfire realm called H E double hockey sticks

However, you’re determined to prove to both of your dads that you’re capable of defending yourself and be an adult so you’ve been recently sneaking out of your home and going around Pentagram City. On your own, no protective powerful Overlord father or protective infamous actor father

You’ve been doing it for weeks now. Going behind your dads’ back to prove to yourself, then to anybody, your complete and utter independence… but of course, all good things must end

And both of your dads had caught you escaping the house through the window and your beloved partner, a demon you fell in love with and begun dating in secret, just waiting in the backyard of your home whilst you climb out

Husk is very annoyed and ordering you to explain yourself, not at all happy with what you’ve done whilst Angel is dragging you off the windowsill and is resisting the urge to cry since his heart is broken

Your dads fend off your lover, not wanting to deal with them at this moment whilst they are trying to scold their child for doing this… and yes. This causes a big old fight with your parents. You just wanted to prove that you can handle yourself whilst your dads aren’t happy that you did something so reckless and harmful to yourself

Husk takes a bit longer to own up to his accident. Making you cry and angrily go to bed. You’re nearly a legal adult and they are shackling you… Angel can sense how you feel and immediately apologies for his lashout and tries to encourage his husband to do the same thing

When they do. They talk to you, accepting and encouraging, to try make a compromise inbetween you wanting to go outside at night to have fun with your lover, and talking to them and informing them about your location so you three will be happy

Husk lays down the must text them rule with this accommodation himself and his husband have made for you, their precious baby, that you must follow this at all causes whilst Angel is actually excited about you going to have fun on your own but begs you to inform either himself or his husband if anything bad happens to you

They just love you… please. Give them a break, they’ll try their best to let you do whatever you want on your own… as long as they know you’re okay

“Heartthrob. Do you have your present for your partner? Yes? That’s good. When you get to the party, text me or your father so we know you’re okay. That’s all we ask now. Here, let me finish rolling you up before you go”

“Fluffball! Fluffball! Fluffball! Aww! You look so precious! You’ll blow the competition off the dancefloor and you’ll make that partner of yours’ jaw drop! Make sure to shoot me or your dad a text when you’re there, ‘kay?“

313 notes · View notes

farfaras · 11 months

Text

Steddie week. Day 1: Pining. 1.2k words. Ao3 link.

Have some fluff! Also, written from the point of view of the non-pining person.

Steve is not sure how he got here. Although he’s actually not complaining. But after the end of the world part 4 (and hopefully final), Eddie Munson seems to be… courting? Wooing? Him? Whatever, he’s trying something. He was already kind of flirtatious during the apocalypse, at first Steve thought that was just a defense mechanism or just how he is. To a degree, he does have a flirty personality. But he does not treat everyone else like he’s treating Steve.

Steve is almost 99% sure that he has not opened a single door while Eddie’s around. Every time he goes to leave a room, suddenly Eddie is in front of him opening the door for him. It’s a miracle he doesn’t bow or some shit equally as embarrassing. Steve can feel the party’s eyes on them, and he doesn’t know why Eddie seems so unaware of it. In similar fashion, Eddie picks up everything he drops (he’s a klutz, sue him) so quickly that it almost looks like he hurts himself a little.

Are all the seats taken? “Have my seat, Stevie.”

Steve forgot a jacket? “You look cold, here’s my jacket.”

Steve mentions being thirsty? “I’ll get you some water!”

His car was in the shop one time, so Eddie picked him up for movie night at the Wheeler’s. When he dropped him off, he didn’t just make sure he got inside from the comfort of his car. No, no, that wouldn’t suffice. Eddie walked him to the fucking door.

Also, the pet names. God, there’s so many! One would think Steve is a fair maiden in the 1800s with the amount of terms of endearment he’s subjected to on a weekly basis. Angel, sweetheart, darling, honey, love, and even goddamn beloved. Who the fuck uses beloved? In this day and age?

Steve has not had this much attention, since, well, ever. Eddie seems to notice every single thing he does or says. One time he mentioned in passing how much he likes cool ranch Doritos and the next week Eddie showed up at Family Video with a sandwich, a bag of cool ranch Doritos and his favorite flavored soda. “Here’s your lunch, sweetheart.” Steve could only say thanks before he walked out with a wink, leaving him confused as ever.

He’s very much not confused now. He knows what Eddie is doing.

Every chance he gets, Eddie makes sure he knows how good he thinks Steve looks. He even compliments his outfits, which at first Steve found hard to believe it was sincere because come on, why would Eddie say he likes his polos and jeans if not to just get him to like him? But the more he did it, the more Steve started to notice the look on his face. If he wasn’t being sincere he was a hell of an actor because Steve could swear his eyes almost shined with fondness and/or adoration.

There’s a corner on his desk that he has designed for little trinkets Eddie has been gifting him. This has to be the weirdest part of it all because why would Eddie give him a piggy keychain? A freaking I <3 NY magnet? Has he even been to New York? Where did he get that? Steve’s favorite is this bracelet that spells ‘lovely’ surrounded by green and blue beads. Because of course Eddie knows what his favorite colors are. Ah shit, did he make that himself? Eddie should stop being this adorable, because now every time he enters his room and glances at this pile of [perceived] junk an involuntary smile starts to bloom.

Whenever they go out to eat together (as friends, Robin!) Steve goes through the same argument when Eddie insists on paying. Steve rarely wins that battle.

It all feels, weird. Steve doesn’t know how to feel about all of this. On one hand, does he enjoy all this attention? Of course. I mean, who wouldn’t. Steve is sure that if he asked any girl if they enjoyed the attention from guys that they didn’t particularly wanna date, they’d say yes. Right? It seems logical. Everyone likes to feel special. On the other hand, how is he supposed to react to all of this?

Robin’s told him that he needs to say something. That it’s gone too long. Just to reject him already, or something along those words.

Steve hasn’t.

He can’t seem to bring himself to burst this bubble. To break this kind of spell that he apparently has on Eddie “the freak” Munson.

A freak, though? Eddie’s not a freak at all. If the people that gave him that god forsaken nickname got to know him, they’d sure regret it. Steve’s sure. Because he’s a lot of things, but not a freak. Incredible considerate, for one. Thoughtful and passionate. He’s amazingly kind, and so full of love it sometimes looks like he can’t even contain it all. Most of all though, he’s ridiculous. Greatly so. How does someone go this long, treating a person this special, wooing, basically spoiling them, without asking anything in return? Steve has been sure for a while that Eddie Munson has been trying to get him to like him back. He’s going about it in a ridiculous way.

Eddie Munson is ridiculous.

He’s so so ridiculous.

What’s even more ridiculous is…

It’s kinda working.

“What’s your approach here?” Steve questions. Eddie’s over at his house tonight. They were watching a movie and Eddie just randomly got up, brought over some popcorn and a blanket. Which he put on Steve’s feet because somehow he knows they get cold easily.

Eddie sits beside him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you’ve been doing this for a long time. Are you ever gonna…?” Steve trails off. He may have started this conversation, but he really doesn’t know how to ask what he wants to ask.

A flash of recognition crosses Eddie’s face but he quickly schools his expression. “Am I ever gonna… what?” He smirks. The fucker.

“You know what.”

“I really don’t.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “I know you know I know what you’ve been doing. Don’t play dumb.”

“That’s a lot of knows.”

“Be serious.” Steve gives him a look that he hopes conveys how much he wants answers.

“Just say what you mean, then.” Eddie looks down, he looks kinda nervous and Steve feels just a tiny bit guilty about how abruptly he brought this up.

“Are you… gonna ask me out? Anytime soon?” Eddie looks up and although he seems taken aback for a second he just smiles after it.

“Do you want me to?” He tilts his head and puts on his most innocent act.

Steve hums. “What if,” he clears his throat and looks away, “What if I say no?”

Eddie nods like he’s considered this and every other scenario. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not asking you out yet.”

Steve frowns. “Then why…?” His brain catches up and takes notice of the last word of that sentence. “Not yet?”

Eddie shakes his head no. “If I do it,” he searches Steve’s face. Steve doesn’t know what he’s looking for, it takes a few seconds but he seems to find what he needs to say, “When I do it. It’s gonna be because I’m sure you’ll say yes.” Steve doesn’t know what to say. Or if he should say anything. He feels breathless. “And it’ll blow your pretty little mind, honey. Can’t believe you thought I’d do it with karate kid on the background.”

They settle back down, and that seems to be the end of that. Eddie seems content with that for now.

Steve though? It seems like his insides have started bubbling with anticipation. Without asking him for permission, no less!

@steddie-week

#it’s still the 22nd where I live #literally 10pm I barely made it #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #eddie x steve #steve x eddie #stranger things 4 #stranger things #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddieweek2023 #mer writes sometimes #ficlet #will I do the whole week? idk #steddieweekprompts

249 notes · View notes

trashc-anon · 2 months

Text

hazbin hotel is polluting my mind so if I were the editor's intern: reco

• either stretch the season into 16 episodes or cut the plotlines in half;

• definitaly cut Alastor's screen time in half (if not more)

• make up your mind how much of the pilot is canon (especially regarding Lucifer)

• episode 1 is good as is, a soft reboot from the pilot without getting in too much detail and I love hating Adam, "Hell is Forever" is banger (i hope the music writers were properly paid and Disney learns why AI is a bad idea!)

• episode 2 is a problem, because Sir Pentious presence is only because of the V's, make that episode 2/2;

• ep 1/2 - Charlie and Vaggie leave the hotel to recruit; Sir Pentious attacks, all on schedule

• Charlie or Vaggie save some of the eggs from being crushed; when the "battle" is over, Pentious is cautiosly agrees to entertain their hospitalty; angel is untrusting;

• "Starts with Sorry"

• leave the Vs as unseen foes, and Alastor's only appearance is his shadow at the end of the episode (Overlords are mysterious unseen threat)

• episode 2/2 - Vs are anxious that Alastor is with the princess;

• see, the first couple of episodes make sense, but they take away from the girls and the hotel

• but "Stayed Gone" is sooo good! maybe use at a later date?

nevermind

• "Stayed Gone" is a fun song, BUT it doesn't make sense for Alastor, mysterious serial killer, to have childish rivalries; why didn't he kill Vox back when he rejected him and Vox got 'pissy'?

• either make Vox less pathetic or less there;

• soooo, episode 3/1 is would be trust exercises

• i actually liked Angel's plan with BDSM, he's not wrong and I wished he had the chance to be an adult that LIKES sex separate from the victim that uses overtsexuality as a defence mechanism

• each character could have their own moment to show what trust means to them; trust comes in different shades;

• between Angel and Maggie we see sexual intimacy and surviving extreme situations; Husk has issues with openess; Niffty with intrusive thoughts;

• IN FACT! actually stablish WHY Husk and Niffty are part of the exercises! they're not guests, Husk says as much, they are employees LOANED by Alastor; they're not there to earn redemption; *vague hand gesture in confusion*

• OKAY - Overlord meeting... ehhhhhh

• i still want to cut Alastor's screentime! whats the point of the meeting? screentime for the overlords, the dead angel (which we know, but main cast won't until episode 7) Carmila being responsible is important, we need to know who to ask for help, but ugh. I get its also, prelude that you need love to fight and win against angels, but its never stablished in canon, Carmila says it to Maggie to use as internal compass to keep her fighting beyond pain and fear; bloodlust is distracting, love is focused;

• my delight with Zestial being all dark and yummy need to take a hike for the sake of - what am i even doing any more?

• I can't help but think how much of these decision are also based on Voice Actor salaries; because Keith David (Husk) gotta be expensive and for a character that is literaly always presented he almost never talks; and just, ALL of them being expensive and ~ahahah better make fewer episodes if you want big names in your projects~

• ughhhh that's when you know a series has issues, when trying to fix you run into a thousand more problems;

• i would respect how much they put into 8 episodes, ONLY IF it's true they didn't know they would get season 2. Because in that case a bunch of these plot lines needed to be dropped, I don't care how fanfavorite the character is;

• the Vs serve no purpose what so ever, you can easily have Valentino as a lone villain (also less confusion about hells social rules about SA and abuse);

• Lucifer should've been the last big name to enter screen; work up to the trial with Heaven for S2E01 (why even a trial)

• just how PLOT heavy is this series that Viv needed Lilith's bomb to drop in season 1? which is a major inconsistancy for a series based on the theme of redemption, a CHARACTER heavy theme;

• as it is, i don't see how Sir Pentious being redeemed is a good thing, because he died before entering Heaven, so other souls need to die too and hope it's not forever? wouldn't that fuel Exterminators cause to kill in name of 'clensing'? (holy shit, the more I write the worse it gets)

• IS there an primordial EVIL to scare the angels so badly?

• omg I hope they won't try to bring actual GOD into the series; I know there is concept art floating around, but please, do not;

• Supernatural barely got away with it in Season 5 because it was a funny 'what if' and made it got bad in Season 10 (?) (no series should ever emulate Supernatural, its a warning I mean it, don't, not worth it, you don't have 10+ years of dead horse to beat)(the fans, me, stayed out of, idk, regretfull loyalty)

• my english is not good enough for this... KAY IM DONE NOW! BYEEEE

#hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel critical #vivziepop critical #i know im late to the party #just needed to work the brain muscles myself and leave it at that

41 notes · View notes

sjsmith56 · 8 months

Text

How I Really Feel About You

Summary: Bucky’s writer girlfriend moves into the Tower with him. He questions her about her love for Jane Austen’s novels, specifically Pride and Prejudice. For the next movie night he insists they watch Bridget Jones’s Diary and Pride and Prejudice. His reaction and the reaction of the other Avengers surprises her. First person POV.

Length: 3.25K

Characters: Bucky, unnamed OFC, Sam Wilson, Yelena Belova, Kate Bishop

Warnings: Imagine Bucky walking across the field as Mr. Darcy (sigh), implied smut.

Author’s notes: I love Pride and Prejudice and while watching the movie again envisioned Bucky Barnes as Mr. Darcy. This is the result.

The movers were scheduled to arrive the following day and I still had so much to pack for my move to the Avengers Tower. After a year of dating when Bucky Barnes, current Avenger and my boyfriend, finally asked me to move in with him into a larger apartment, I said yes. He was everything I ever wanted in a man; just old-fashioned enough to treat me with courtesy and respect, but modern enough not to be threatened by my career that took me away every so often on research trips as I flew around the world, becoming familiar with places I would write about in my novels. Sometimes, he even came with me for a time, or met me there after finishing his own mission. There wasn’t much writing done during those times but his presence certainly added to the romance of those locations, which always made its way into my books.

Being drop dead gorgeous didn’t hurt either, as I still couldn’t believe this man with the body of a god and the face of an angel, had eyes only for me. I could spend a lot of time listing off my own perceived deficits, but Bucky didn’t want to hear them from anyone’s lips. In his eyes, I was perfect, beautiful even when I was on a tear while writing, had bloodshot eyes and stringy hair, while wearing my sweatpants that were a little too tight, so my muffin top was visible. Maybe it was part of his being a 1940s man, but he seemed to like a little padding on a woman’s body, and he certainly liked mine.

Right now, he was helping me finish packing for the move, something I had procrastinated about for several weeks as I finished a final draft of my latest novel before sending it to my editor for fine-tuning. He offered to pack my bookcases, filled with my eclectic and diverse collection of books, memorabilia, and knickknacks, doing a good job until he came to the last one.

“How many different versions and souvenirs of Pride and Prejudice do you need?” Bucky asked.

He was standing in front of what I called “The Shrine,” my collection of all things related to Jane Austen’s masterpiece. It included several different collector book editions; a hardcover one, in dark brown leather with gold gilded letters, a cloth bound edition in red with silver lettering, a special illustrated hardcover edition with protective sleeve and my paperback edition that I actually used to read whenever I felt the need to resume my acquaintance with my favourite title. There were DVDs of all the movie and television versions, including the special collector’s edition of the BBC/PBS series starring Colin Firth, and Jennifer Ehle. Then there were the literary texts about Pride and Prejudice, followed by the knickknacks, souvenirs, and the photo album with the photographs of the various actors that I always took with me to comic cons, premieres and any other occasion where I might run into one of said stars, in the hopes of getting their autographs. It was my obsession and until Bucky started packing the individual items into boxes, I don’t think he realized how much I loved the book, the series, and the movies that I couldn’t watch enough times.

“Says the man with a bookcase full of Hobbit and Lord of the Rings books and the DVDs,” I replied from the linen closet. “But I’m fine with that because I know you love them and they’re good books, good movies, and your Gandalf action figure is pretty cool.”

He appeared in the hallway, leaning against the wall, with his arms crossed. His face was so serious and for a moment I wondered if he was offended that I brought up his own obsession. From the floor I looked up at him.

“What?” I asked.

“How come you’ve never asked me to watch any of the movies?” he asked. “I know you’ve seen all of the Tolkien movies. Yet, you’ve always saved your Pride and Prejudice movies for girls’ night. Is there something I should know? Are they like Bridgerton and you watch them for the sex scenes?”

“No, there are no sex scenes in Pride and Prejudice although I’m sure there is a porn version somewhere if I Google it.” I shuddered. “I would hate to think what they would do with it. Have you never read it?”

His eyes rolled. “Of course, I’ve read it, well some of it,” he clarified. “What’s the big deal?”

“What do you know about Jane Austen and the times in which she wrote?” I countered.

“Not much,” he admitted. “Enlighten me.”

I stood up as this required my full attention. “She was born in 1775, one of eight children of a clergyman,” I replied, knowing the famous author’s background well. “Well educated, she was also born into a social structure that saw a woman of her status as suitable only to be the wife of a gentleman, and mother of his children. Most marriages of the time were arranged, although her parents were a love match, and a woman was considered the property of her husband. The only women who worked for a living were in the working class. If a higher-class woman had to work because of circumstances it was seen as a drop in her social status, as governess was likely one of the few suitable jobs for her. Jane Austen began writing as a child but by the time she wrote her first published novel in 1811 it is known she had been engaged once but changed her mind and never seemed to be involved with anyone after. It doesn’t mean she wasn’t; it just was never made public. Yet her stories of life for a woman in her social sphere gave a real insight into the pressure women had to marry well, and not necessarily marry for love. Most of her heroines did just the opposite, marrying for love.”

“She didn’t write about sex at all?” asked Bucky, puzzled.

“She didn’t have to,” I explained. “It’s referred to in very genteel terms. A character in Pride and Prejudice runs off with a man who has no intention of marrying her, and although it’s not said that they did the deed, they refer to her ruination, and how that will affect the marriage chances of her sisters. In another novel, there is a reference to a teenage girl who runs off with a man, is discarded by him, and finds herself pregnant after. Because he’s a gentleman, and of a higher status than her, his standing is considered more important than hers. She’s the guilty party even though he sweet talked her into bedding with him.”

“I would have kicked his ass,” said Bucky, his face set in stone. “Talking a young woman into sex then leaving her behind with his child. Too many guys like that even in my time.”

Running my arms around his muscular middle I squeezed him hard until his face softened and he kissed me. He was my knight in shining armour with his still strong belief in how men should treat women.

“There were plenty that would but rich, handsome men of a certain status in those days often took advantage of sweet young girls that they saw as objects to satisfy their desires,” I replied. “It’s a universal truth even now, and Jane Austen was well aware of it. That’s why there have been so many versions of it in both books and movies.”

“How many books did she write?”

“Six major novels, all of them adapted into movies or TV series. There are many shorter novels, I don’t quite remember the number and one of them called Lady Susan was turned into a hilarious movie called Love and Friendship.” I placed my hand on his cheek. “Would you do me a favour and read Pride and Prejudice all the way through? Then, when I’m moved in with you, we’ll watch the most recent movie together. It’s a good adaptation, although it cuts out a lot, but it brings some aspects to the story that I like, and we can talk about the differences. Then someday, maybe on a rainy day, when I’m not writing, and you’re not on a mission we can binge watch the BBC series. It is the definitive version and delves so well into the characters. It’s what made me fall in love with Jane Austen’s writing, and certainly pointed me in the direction of writing as a career.”

That beautiful smile of Bucky’s broke out and he tilted his head at my admission. Ever since we met, and he found out I was a writer, he had often shared his admiration of those who lived by the creation of the written word. Of course, his favourite author was J.R.R. Tolkien, but he was also open to many others, and we often spent time on the couch reading together. One of us would be on their back with their feet or head on the lap of the other; it was interchangeable who was where. It was one of the many things I loved about James Buchanan Barnes, that he considered reading an important part of his life.

A week later, I was completely moved into the large apartment in the Avengers Tower. We had three bedrooms, one for us with our own ensuite, one for guests, as my family liked to visit New York at least once a year, and one to use as my writing office. We had a large living / dining area with a kitchen, although we took most of our meals in the communal kitchen with the other Avengers, some with spouses and significant others. Sam had just made a big pot of jambalaya, and everyone was crowded around with a bowl, eager to get some of the culinary treat.

“So, movie night tonight?” asked Kate Bishop as she walked away with her full bowl. “I’m feeling like we need some action movies.”

“Pride and Prejudice,” stated Bucky. “I want to watch it and then watch Bridget Jones’s Diary.”

Sam nearly spit out his drink and I threw a kitchen towel at him. He grinned at Bucky, ready to unleash his wit on him.

“You want to watch some chick flicks? The human cyborg, former Terminator, the Tin Man wants to watch a couple of romance movies?”

“Asks the man who hasn’t had a girlfriend in how long? Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Bucky didn’t even look at Sam when he said it. But you know when two guys are sizing each other up in the school yard and they begin with low level insults then one says something that the other can’t respond to? We were at that point. If Sam’s skin was lighter toned, I’m sure he would have been blushing. Everyone watched the two of them to see what would be said next. Bucky looked Sam in the eye, almost daring him to say something.

“Alright, White Panther, we’ll watch them,” said Sam. “I’m sure they will both be very informative on how to get a girlfriend. The bigger deal is how to keep one.”

Bucky put his arm around me and with a shit-eating grin looked at Sam. “I seem to be managing quite well in that department as well. Don’t I, Darling?”

I grinned at Sam then gave Bucky a long kiss. “You’re a wonderful boyfriend. Why don’t we watch the Bridget Jones movie first then watch the source material second.” I looked at all the others. “Everyone has to watch both movies. If I have to watch all of the Fast and Furious movies, you can watch two versions of Pride and Prejudice.”

I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting everyone to laugh so much at the Bridget Jones version. They especially seemed to enjoy the fight scene between Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver, hilariously critiquing the fighting styles. By the time the movie ended even Sam admitted he had been mildly entertained.

“Take it,” whispered Bucky. “It’s likely all he’ll admit to.”

“What about you?” I asked, quietly. “What did you think?”

“I gained some insights into modern dating that I could have used before I met you,” he said, as he gazed into my eyes. “Maybe I wouldn’t have floundered so much. The double standards certainly haven’t changed from the 1940s.”

We kissed as Kate brought up Pride and Prejudice in the TV menu, noting there was a movie version and a series version. As she looked at the series information, she recognized Colin Firth from the Bridget Jones movie.

“Wait, he played Mr. Darcy in two different versions of the story?” she asked. “Maybe we should watch the series.”

“That’s a whole rainy day of watching that you would have to commit to,” I stated. “It’s more faithful to the original book and it’s best viewed with others who want to watch it with you. The movie is a good adaptation and there is a scene near the end that should take your breath away. If it doesn’t then perhaps Jane Austen isn’t for you.”

“Who’s Jane Austen?�� she asked.

“The woman who wrote the original book in 1813,” interjected Bucky. “You should read it.”

I wanted to kiss him again for that. With a shrug she queued up the start of the movie and everyone went to the bathroom, refilled their drinks, and restocked their popcorn and candy. Then Kate started the movie and I let myself become immersed in it.

“He’s hot,” I could hear someone whisper, when Matthew MacFadyen first appeared as Mr. Darcy.

“Isn’t she on Yellowstone?” Someone else asked that when Kelly Reilly appeared as Caroline Bingley.

“Shhh,” was the answer and I inwardly grinned.

When Mr. Collins arrived, there were groans at how awkward and clueless he was.

“Reminds me of some guys I grew up with,” deadpanned Kate, then she yelped when Yelena elbowed her to keep quiet as she leaned forward, taking in everything.

There were some comments at the incredible music score, which I had the CD for, as well as a digital version on my playlist. Finally, we got to the scene between Elizabeth and Lady Catherine. There were whispers of “Bitch” at Judy Dench’s portrayal of Mr. Darcy’s aunt. When Elizabeth sent the old woman on her way I settled back, knowing that my absolute favourite part of the movie was coming. Sure enough, there was Lizzie walking in the early morning mist in her nightgown and housecoat. Intellectually I knew it was highly unlikely the daughter of a gentleman would do that but visually and romantically I could feel the emotions in the scene when she turned to see Mr. Darcy walking towards her in the same mist, his overcoat flaring out as he walked, his chest partially visible through the open top of his shirt. His manly stride was just … perfect.

“Damn,” Sam’s voice was loud enough that I almost giggled.

Several audible exhaled breaths showed the scene had hit the mark and I looked up to see Bucky watching the TV screen intently. There wasn’t even a kiss between the characters while they were silhouetted in the morning sunrise, just them touching their foreheads together. It was magic. When the final scene ended, and the credits began to roll I started to turn around then felt Bucky’s face next to my ear.

“That was good,” he whispered. “We’re going to our room right now.”

Before I could respond he pulled me up and practically dragged me down the long hallway to our apartment where he pressed into me against the wall, kissing me feverishly. It wasn’t until we were both laying on the messy bed after, our legs splayed across each other, that he finally said something about the movie.

“I never knew how romantic it was,” he said, then he shook his head. “It’s not even that. They were so constrained by the morals of the time and the expectations to marry at or above your station, but all of their desires just raged under the surface.” He sighed. “That part at the end when Mr. Darcy comes out of the mist. Did you hear all the gasps? Even Sam was affected. I know that it was in the script but it just ….”

His voice trailed off and I lifted my head, propping it up on my hand as I gazed at him, while running my fingers over his chest.

“Do you remember when we met?” I asked. “I was driving all night to get to New York, and I had the flat tire. There I was, out on the highway, in the dark, the fog coming in and not a vehicle in sight. There was no cell service, and I couldn’t even get the first lug nut off the flat tire.” He raised himself to look at me, propping his head up on his hand and gently caressing my arm with his other hand. “Then out from the dark there you were, dressed all in black in your combat gear, your rifle slung over your shoulder. I should have been afraid, but you just strode right to me and looked at the flat tire.”

“It’s not safe for you here,” he stated. “That’s what I said, isn’t it? I remember. Somehow you had suffered a flat tire right in the middle of our stakeout and I just wanted to get you to safety.”

“Every time I see that scene of Mr. Darcy walking through the mist I’m taken back to that night when you helped a lady in distress. You walked me back to the quinjet and told me to stay there until you were all done with your stakeout. When you had your suspects, you changed the tire and strode through the mist just before dawn to get me. It’s how I really feel about you, Bucky. You’re my Mr. Darcy, in the flesh, except we liked each other from the start. We didn’t have to get through our prejudices to find out that we belonged together.”

“That makes you my Lizzie Bennett, doesn’t it?” He smiled. “My beautiful, smart, incredible girlfriend.”

We slept in each other’s arms, secure in the certainty that we were meant for each other. In the morning, after a quick shower, we headed out to the kitchen and found everyone else already up. As Bucky poured us each a coffee, Yelena came up to us and gestured out the window.

“It’s a rainy day,” she said bluntly. “Perhaps we can watch the miniseries of Pride and Prejudice. You did say it is more faithful to the original book.”

I looked at all the others, who had obviously delegated Yelena to the task of getting our participation. Even Sam was there, looking a little sheepish. But she was right. It was a rainy day and the episodes, if we ran them without interruption would take over 5 ½ hours to watch. There were perhaps better ways to spend the day but to me, there weren’t many. Bucky heated up several breakfast sandwiches for himself while I grabbed a muffin, some yogurt, a banana and a coffee. We settled into a spot on the sofa, as did everyone else. Then Yelena started the playback, the lights dimmed, and we all lost ourselves into the life of a Regency family with five unmarried daughters once again.

One Shots Masterlist

Tumblr Masterlist

Please like and reblog if you enjoyed this.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #sam wilson #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes / pride and prejudice crossover #pride and prejudice

22 notes · View notes

coupsie-daisies · 2 years

Text

Silver Screen Soulmates | Park Jimin

Pairing: Park Jimin x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Enemies to Lovers (one sided), Actor AU, kinda hurt/comfort

Summary: Being Jimin’s leading lady is a big task, and being in Park Jimin’s shadow is absolutely insufferable. Jimin can’t understand how you’re in his shadow when you shine brighter than the sun itself.

Word Count: 11.8k (I’m so sorry)

Warnings: Lots of alcohol, Reader gets hate online, lots of cussing, Reader is messy

A/N: So it’s a tiny bit late because the header was giving me problems, but here’s my contribution to the clownracha monthly prompt for July; Lights, Camera, Action. Enjoy!

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @felixtok // @sunnytaes // @burningupp // @bunnypig18 // @chrswolfie // @ferrethyun

This fanfiction and the header attached are property of @/hobi-is-golden, reposting on any platform without explicit permission is prohibited

"Cut,” The director called, and you sighed. Whether it was a sound of relief or frustration was still up in the air. You loved acting, it had taken over the depths of you. It was your co-star who always seemed to give you problems.

Jimin was a good actor, a great actor even. Not that you’d be caught dead saying something like that near him. There were a lot of things you’d learned about Park Jimin since you’d first met him, and if you were to describe him, it would sound like praise.

He was hardworking, the most dedicated man you’d ever met. He was a perfectionist, and that might be one of the biggest understatements ever. Actually, he was sweet, sickeningly so. He never wanted to see anyone frown, and he would do damn near anything for damn near anyone.

Park Jimin was, at best, an angel. And at worst, he was your worst fucking nightmare.

“Can we do that one more time?” Jimin asked with a charming smile. It was the same one he always used with the press when he tried to get on their good side or make a perfect impression. You groaned, not even bothering to hide your exasperation as you shot the director a pleading look.

“Again? We’ve shot this scene like a hundred times.” You said, completely ready to stand your ground on this one. You completely understood only wanting to put your best on the big screen. But you were already behind schedule, and it was because of Jimin’s perfectionism. “Please, there’s got to be enough good takes already.”

You heard Jimin scoff beside you, his hands landing on his hips. You shot him a side-eyed glare.

“I know we’re nearing the end of the shoot schedule, but we should still be putting in one hundred percent effort.” He said. Your jaw dropped. Surely he wasn’t implying that you were slacking off on your work.

“I’m putting in just as much effort as you are, thank you very much.” You jabbed your finger towards him. “I just don’t think it’s necessary to keep rerunning the same scene over and over. It’s a waste of everyone’s time, energy, and money.”

“You’re saying it’s a waste of time to film a good movie? Isn’t that what we’re here to do?”

You rolled your eyes. Low fucking blow.

“You know that’s not what I’m fucking saying.”

“Well that’s what it sounds like. I know you’re not a quitter, and you do too, so why are you acting like one?”

“Don’t talk about things you don’t know.” You snapped, hands curling and uncurling at your sides. The tension sparking between you and your co-star was becoming stifling.

“Alright, let’s all take 15. We’ll pick up with the next scene then..” The director dismissed everyone, and you glared at Jimin again as you turned to leave.

You were dialing your best friend’s phone number before you were even to your trailer. It rang a few times, and you dug in the back of your brain for what his schedule should be looking like. He was a model, so he tended to be busy, much like yourself. When he finally answered, you sighed in relief.

“You’re a go for Hoseok,” He said. On any normal day, you’d be teasing him for his dorky answer. Instead, you jumped straight into your rant.

“I hate him so much,” You announced. “Are you free for food tonight?”

You heard him laugh on the other end of the phone, completely used to your tense relationship with Jimin. It was hard not to be since the two of you had become a matching set when you were only kids. Ever since then, the universe had been dead set on making you deal with him.

“Uh, my night should be clear after my next fitting. That should be over and done with in a couple of hours. So yeah.” He told you. “Not having fun playing house with Jimin today?”

The teasing lilt of his voice only irritated you further. You probably would have said something about it had it been anyone but him. However, you were used to the fact that tormenting you was one of Hoseok’s favorite pastimes anyway, his way of showing his affection. Convoluted motherfucker.

“Understatement of the year, actually.” You said, letting yourself into your trailer and collapsing onto the sofa inside. “I know he’s the media’s golden boy, that’s all great and whatever, but I swear he’s out to get me. I’ve never even done anything to him, I’m just never good enough.”

You could hear voices in the background of the call, and you knew you were being childish, calling and disrupting Hoseok’s already busy workday over something as stupid as a little tiff with Jimin.

As previously mentioned, Jimin was the golden boy of the acting world. He’d made his debut when he was only nine, and he was a quadruple threat; He could act, he could sing, he could dance, and he was downright beautiful to boot. Saying something to the wrong person could cause an uproar and sink your hard earned career without so much as a second to rebut.

And that was yet another thing that had always bothered you. You were used to it, sure, but it was sickening and absolutely terrifying knowing that your entire career was riding on the way the media swooned over you and Jimin as a pair. At first, when you were much younger, it was flattering to be deemed Jimin’s silver screen soulmate. After all, he was perfect and had been acting for several years longer than you had. So it must have meant something that you’d managed to get tied to him so tightly. But the older you got, and the more you tried to branch out, the more frustrating it became to be pigeonholed like that. You were never praised on your own merits, only on your association with Jimin. The first time you acted on your own, in a movie with which he wasn’t even connected, all of the headlines only referred to you as ‘Park Jimin’s leading lady’, and maybe that left you more bitter than you’d expected.

“I know you’re busy, and I have to be back soon. I’ll text you when we wrap up for the night, okay?” You said. Hoseok made a small noise of surprise, clearly expecting for you to have carried on with your story about your ruined day.

“Oh yeah, sure. I’ll talk to you later then.”

“Yeah. Bye, oppa.” You hung up, closing your eyes and heaving a heavy sigh. You were ready to be finished with this movie. Maybe you’d talk to your manager about taking a bit of a break.

Once your day was wrapped up, you’d made your way to Hoseok’s place. He’d gotten your favorites, a scattering of takeout boxes in front of you. You were both kicked back on his plush couch, a movie playing on the television that you’d both seen a hundred times before. It was what you’d both always put on after a hard day.

“So he made you shoot it again?” He asked, bringing his noodles to his lips to blow on them. You nodded, chewing your own mouthful of food.

“Yeah. And I know he’s talented, and he’s more experienced than me, but the absolute disrespect to accuse me of half-assing my job?” You said, motioning with your chopsticks and stabbing them back into your rice. “I don’t know why he’s such a little brat! I have never slacked off on set. And I actually worked hard to get where I am, unlike him.”

You knew you weren’t exactly being fair, you knew that Jimin worked harder than most, and he made sure to work extra hard to make up for the fact that he’d had it fairly easy in his career. His mother was a well known screenwriter, his father the head of a production company. It only made sense for him to end up in the industry as well. But you? Your parents had always worked overtime at mediocre, mid-paying jobs just to make ends meet and allow you to study and chase your dreams. You sighed.

“I’m not overreacting, am I? I mean to say something like that in front of so many people is just…it’s humiliating.”

Hoseok reached out, rubbing your leg and giving it a small squeeze of reassurance.

“It’s reasonable to be mad that he’d say something like that. I mean, I’ve never known you to half-ass anything, much less on camera.”

You raised your eyebrows, pausing halfway through bringing more food to your lips. Oh, you most certainly sensed a ‘but’ coming.

“But?”

“But…maybe he really is just trying to shoot a good movie. I mean, we both know that he’s never satisfied with his work, so maybe it’s not just about you. Maybe he’s, I don’t know, maybe he’s projecting or something.” Hoseok shrugged, stealing a piece of your steamed broccoli. You didn’t swat at him like usual, trying to take in what he’d said.

Projecting? You’d never considered that the words Jimin threw at you weren’t actually about you. And even if they were, there was something in you that refused to let that be a good enough reason to talk down to you. You were just as good as him, he’d told you once that you were the best actor he’d ever worked with in your age group. And as an amateur no less. So how could he look you in the eye now and say that you weren’t trying?

You huffed, setting your food aside. You really didn’t feel like eating anymore.

“I just can’t wait to take a break. Maybe I’m just getting burnt out.” You picked up your phone, deciding to shoot your manager, Seokjin, a text asking if he could work out a little time to yourself. At least a week before you accepted another role.

“You deserve a break. I’m pretty sure you work harder than anyone I know.” Hoseok agreed.

You relaxed, turning your attention to the movie and grabbing one of the pillows you two had moved aside to cling to. You were grateful for this sort of normalcy that you really only found with your parents or with Hoseok. He’d clawed and climbed his way into the top modeling agency from nothing, so he understood your struggles and your insecurities better than anyone else you’d met.

He didn’t judge you when you broke down after a hard day, or when you wondered if you even deserved to be as well known as you were. And in moments like this, when everything was upsetting you and there really was no answer, he was good at sitting with you and not trying to rationalize.

“Hey, you know that you’re a really good actor, right?” He said. You smiled.

“Thanks, oppa. I know,”

And you laid back against his couch, eyes turned to the ceiling. You didn’t know why you cared so much about what Jimin had to say when it came to you, or why you were so dead set on being good enough for his unreasonable standards, but your naturally competitive nature. and the way that he never failed to get on your nerves meant you had to do better. And you knew you could if you worked at it. You sighed, hugging the cushion tighter. Just a couple more weeks, and filming would be over. Then it was on to promotions, and eventually the premiere. Hopefully you’d have a breather between projects, a little vacation sounded nice.

A few more hours passed you by, and movies were swapped out. The lights had been turned off, leaving just the flickering light of the television screen and the glow of your phone since Hoseok had long since dozed off, sprawled across his side of the couch. You scrolled your social media, flicking between your personal accounts and your professional ones, keeping an eye on the tags for the movie you were working on.

Most of the time you enjoyed reading the newest tweets. It was nice seeing so many people from different backgrounds rallying around something you were pouring your heart and soul into. Seeing their excitement brought energy back to your weary mind. And even the hate comments usually made you giggle or spurred you on to prove them wrong. Especially since the support well outweighed the hate.

But maybe, and you really should have known this, reading hate tweets when you were already hating yourself wasn’t your best idea, especially in the middle of the night when you were tipsy and couldn’t sleep.

‘Y/N isn’t even talented, Jimin probably just felt bad and now he’s stuck carrying her dead weight’

‘It’s pathetic that Y/N Y/L/N has to be in movies with Park Jimin just to get publicity’

‘Jimin could do so much better, I don’t know why anyone thinks they’re together. She’s not even half as hot as he is’

You locked your phone and tipped your head back against the pillow you’d propped under you. Even with your social media put away for the night, the words spun in your head. Tryhard, social climber, talentless, mediocre. You choked on your own insecurity, your stomach turning sour. Maybe late night margaritas were a bad idea. You put your phone aside.

You knew better, or at least you told yourself otherwise. You weren’t worthless, you were a good actor, a good person, a hard worker. Everything you had you’d worked for. Your words didn’t seem to do you any good as you tossed and turned and tried to fall asleep. You wondered, though rather bitterly, if Jimin thought those things about you too? Had his words of praise throughout the years just been a smokescreen? A means of kindness regardless of honesty?

You threw your arms over your eyes, blocking out the light and forcefully counting your breaths in your head, determined to fall asleep, even if only to stop thinking about what everyone else may say behind your back.

The anxiety was easier to stomach in the morning than it had been the night before. You took advantage of Hoseok’s kindness and his couch, spending most of your day off lounging on the plush cushions and keeping up with your social media. Reading your socials was easier this time than it had been before when your emotions were running rampant. Still, Jimin was in the back of your mind. He usually was actually, so much so that Hoseok was half convinced that the media relationship the two of you had was infiltrating your actual emotions. But there was a vast difference, you’d always remind him, between admiring someone and seeing why the world puts them on a pedestal, and having feelings for them. He liked to argue that the line wasn’t nearly as wide as you were making it out to be. You wondered if his sweet nature extended to people he didn’t like, if he was pretending with you all this time. You sincerely hoped he wasn’t pretending.

The next week of filming had you wondering. Which was infuriating, quite frankly, because you really had been prepared to focus on yourself and muddle through. Over-analyzing your feelings wasn’t on the schedule, especially since you thought you’d left your stupid little schoolgirl crush in your teenage years. But the more you paid attention, the more you noticed the way Jimin hovered around you. The way your heart would skip a beat when he waved at you from across the set, or the way you’d find yourself smiling when he’d bring you coffee in the mornings, just the way you liked it. When he’d memorized your order for all your favorite places you weren’t sure. And when exactly you’d begun feeling like you were in the presence of the sun itself around him was another big question mark in your mind. But it all pointed towards one earth-shattering realization.

You were in love with your worst nightmare.

“Hey, are you with us?” Jimin asked you, and you shook yourself out of your daze. The director had been talking to the both of you, and you’d at least caught most of it. Confession, yada yada, something, something, chemistry. Yeah, you got it.

“Yeah, I’m here, sorry. I just need another coffee or something. But I’m here.” You told him, giving him a pressed smile when he locked eyes with you. You almost felt a bit uneasy being under his gaze, it was as if he were trying to see right through you down to your soul. You cleared your throat and looked away, passing your script to one of the assistants and asking if she could please have a coffee ordered for you.

A few adjustments were made, the director walking through where the scene was going to start, how he wanted you two to run it. You nodded, letting yourself fall into your comfort zone. This was natural, you were good at this. You were good, you realized, at pretending to be in love with Jimin.

You took your places, allowing yourself to reconnect with your character. She was different from you, less fiery and less unforgiving. She wanted to trust people and it got her hurt often. You tried hard to remember that as the cameras began rolling.

You walked to the table that was set up, sitting down and looking at your hands in your lap, feigned indifference. The scene pictured a quaint garden patio with only the two of you. Jimin was pacing, looking up when you sat down.

“You came.” He said in disbelief. You nodded slowly.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” You ask in response, letting out a soft laugh. “You said you wanted to talk, so I’m here to talk.”

He nodded, stopping in front of you. He took a deep breath, and you watched his chest rise, then fall.

“Why did you tell me to marry someone else?” He asked after a second. You paused, making sure to look taken aback by the question.

“I think that should be obvious. Your sister hates me, your parents tried to sabotage every opportunity we had.” You shook your head. “There are dozens of other women you could be with. People who could make your family shine much more than I can.”

He shook his head as you stood up.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come. But I know you can do better than me, and I know you’ll find someone better suited to….all of this.” You looked around at the garden, a show of wealth from Jimin’s character.

“Wait, please don’t leave me like this.” You felt a tug in your chest as he caught your hand in his, you both lingered there a moment before you turned to face him.

“Don’t make this harder. You’ll be fine, I’ve seen the women waiting for a chance with you. Your mother has a list as long as you are.”

Jimin reached up, cupping your cheek. The way his thumb brushed along your cheekbone made something unpleasant tug in your chest again, and you fought a wave of nausea.

“Don’t say things like that. It’s always been you, you have to know that. No matter who comes or goes, my heart is yours.” His whispered voice was sharp along the edges with desperation as he delivered his line.

A line, part of a script. Someone else’s words, not his own. On cue your eyes began to sting with tears, and you blinked.

“But if it was always me,” You began as a few droplets slipped down your cheeks. “If it was always me, then why did it feel like I always came in last? Like you expected me to be someone else?”

He hesitated, always the perfect actor, and you swallowed around the lump in your throat as you looked up at him. You desperately wanted to know if he could see through your tears, through your character. Could he see the way your chest was ripping open with every line he recited?

“I never meant to make you feel like that. I thought I was doing what was best for you, for both of us.” He said, shaking his head. You could feel your control slipping, tears coming faster and breath growing increasingly hiccuped.

“Don’t. Don’t act like you know what I want or- Or how I feel. It hurts,” You snapped.

There it was, a silent shift in the atmosphere on set. You went off script. That wasn’t unusual for an actor, but everyone knew how Jimin felt about improv, and you knew as Jimin’s usual scene partner that it was the fastest way to bring out his attitude. And you were a professional, you could practically hear your manager’s voice in your mind, gently scolding you for letting yourself crack.

Jimin stared at you, his hand falling away from your face and leaving your cheek feeling uncomfortably cold. You lowered your gaze, blinking a few more times to unblur your vision which was being obscured by your tears. Your stomach was churning anxiously, waiting for someone to call cut. But apparently the director liked what he was seeing. Probably the authenticity he’d been saying was lacking since day one of shooting.

“I don’t know what you want, you’re right. I just wanted to help and make this easier.” He attempted, clearly trying to get the situation back under control, but you were too far gone. The tone of his voice wavered, and you didn’t know if it was hurt, or irritation, or if it was all put on just like every other thing he’d ever said to you. A show for the cameras. You weren’t a huge fan of any of those options.

“Everything is always about you, isn’t it? It’s all about how you feel, what you think, what you want and I can’t–”

“Cut!”

You took a couple of steps back from him, your chest heaving as you fought to calm yourself down. It was hot, and your head was spinning.

“I’m sorry, can I…I need a break. Can I just, um…” You stumbled around the sentence, shooting Seokjin and the director a desperate look. They shared a silent glance of their own before waving you off.

You turned fast, booking it out of the building. You needed air, you had to pull yourself together. Never in all your years of acting had you ever done something so monumentally stupid. You sniffled, patting away your tears with a special care not to completely fuck up your makeup since your team had worked so hard on it.

“Stupid fucking feelings. What the hell, Y/N?” You hissed to yourself. You were so wrapped up in your own head that you didn’t hear the door open behind you.

“Hey, what the hell was that?” His voice caught you off guard, and you groaned, curling in even further on yourself.

“I really don’t need to hear it, Jimin. I know I’m wasting everyone’s time, I know I’m being unprofessional, okay? I know.” You snapped breathlessly, trying to ease the way your chest was aching.

“When the hell have I ever disregarded what you want?” He asked, continuing to press closer. You glared at him through teary eyes.

“When haven’t you? You never consider how I want a scene to go, how I want to deal with the media. I’ve never even had a chance to escape you because everything I do is all about how good I look with you. Dammit, Jimin, I’m just as important as you are. I’m just as talented, and I’m just as passionate. And maybe if you could see that, everyone else would too.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d ever snapped at Jimin, but it was the first time he’d seen you so worked up. He furrowed his brow. Did you think he didn’t know all of that? Did you think he didn’t respect you? Sure, you never saw eye to eye, not since you were both children, but if there was one person who was unwaveringly on Jimin’s level, it was you. It had never occurred to him that you didn’t know how far out of his way he went to work with you.

“You’ve never told me what you wanted. You can’t blame me for taking the lead when you don’t.” He said coldly. And then he was beating himself up because that really wasn’t what he was trying to say, but he wasn’t very good at letting it slide when his pride was hurt. He clenched his fists at his sides. “You shouldn’t come back until you’re ready and able to have an efficient shoot.”

He turned away, and your stomach churned. How was it that you could bare your soul to him, tell him how he’s been hurting you, and all he can give you in return is a scolding for being unprofessional and not stepping on his toes? You covered your face, blinking back tears that left a burning sensation behind your eyes. The sooner you could stop crying, the sooner you could move on with the shoot and leave all of this shit behind you.

You stayed outside for a while, allowing your tears to dry and your mind to calm down. You must have been gone too long, because they sent Jin out to come get you. He tried to calm you down and brush it off as if nothing had even happened, Jin was kind that way. And he was also good at pep talks, something that you found very helpful. So with one more coffee downed in a minute and a half, and a serious pep talk from Seokjin under your belt, you were shuffled off to get your hair and makeup touched up and then it was back on. The scene didn’t hurt as much the next time around, you had gotten your frustration out already. And the whispers on set about your outburst stayed behind closed doors. You wondered why, but you weren’t ungrateful for the calm.

The next week went by in a blur, and before you knew it filming was over. No matter how many complaints you had about the entire process, you knew you were going to miss it. Even the frustrating parts, or the exhaustion that kept you in bed on your free days. This was what you did, you weren’t even sure what it was like any other way.

As requested, Seokjin had managed to book you a couple of weeks of down time before your next project, and the spare time flew by. And your next project was a much smaller role, which was of course fine by you. Then you were accompanying Hoseok for a few events. The chaos of your schedule resumed, and for a long while you’d completely forgotten about the whole fiasco with Jimin.

Eventually your luck ran out and you were thrust into interview after interview. They were always your least favorite part of the process, dealing with probing questions, some horribly shallow and others diving way too deep into your personal life. And you were expected to always smile and laugh, flirt for the sake of looking sweet and charming. You were a good actor, but sometimes interviews just had you feeling fake.

You had a couple with Jimin, but not once did your slip up on set come into the conversation, during your interviews or behind the scenes. Actually, you were pretty sure Jimin was avoiding you. There were no snack or drink deliveries like there had been in the past, or check-ins after particularly uncomfortable interviews. As grateful as you were that he didn’t decide to bring up your emotional outburst, you found your heart sinking in your chest every time he walked past with nothing more than a smile or a nod of acknowledgment.

It was after yet another interview that you were sitting with Hoseok again, curled up on his sofa in the comfort of your pajamas and fuzzy socks. You and Jimin had both recorded interviews, separate but to be aired together, and you were reluctantly watching them now, sharing a snack bowl with your friend. So far the interviews were pretty average, if a bit boring, but your ears perked up at the mention of your name.

“How do you feel working so closely with Y/N given all the rumors that surround the two of you?” The interviewer shifted in her seat, leaning towards Jimin across the table they were sitting at as if they were sharing the juiciest gossip of all time.

Jimin laughed, that sweet sound that always charmed women and men alike.

“Y/N is great to work with, and we’ve known each other for so long. She really is such a wonderful person, easily the most caring and supporting actor on every set she steps foot on.” He said with a bright smile.

Your heart nearly skipped a beat at his kind words. You knew that he was lying, especially after the way you’d acted before. But it still made you happy to hear.

The interviewer smiled knowingly, tapping her pristinely manicured nails against her arm before continuing.

“So you don’t agree with the opinions flying on social media about Y/N’s skill on the big screen? Or lack thereof?” She asked. Jimin tensed, a surprised chuckle passing his lips, but it was humorless.

“Any implication that she is untalented, or that I’ve had any hand in her success is ridiculous. She’s one of the most talented actors I’ve met, and she’s worked hard to be. If anything, I’m honored that she chooses to work with me on so many projects.”

You were admittedly surprised to hear him so quickly shoot down his own fans, or to raise you above him. You huffed out a shocked laugh. What was he thinking?

You grabbed for your phone as the interview continued on. He’d continued defending you, talking about your skill and the light you brought onto set. You couldn’t believe the confidence he had telling his own fans, telling anyone that they shouldn’t talk about you in a negative light. Didn’t he know that telling people what to think could damage his reputation? Didn’t he know that he was speaking too highly of you?

“What are you doing?” Hoseok asked as you scrolled through your contacts.

“I’m calling him.” You answered as if it were obvious. You pressed your phone to your ear, letting it ring.

“What? Why?”

“Because he’s being an idiot, that’s why. I can’t fucking believe-”

“Hello?”

“Park Jimin, what the fuck were you thinking saying those things about me?” You snapped. You heard him sigh on the other end, and you wondered if he’d expected you to call. Your twitter must be exploding with people speculating about his affections for you. If the dating rumors weren’t flying before, they’d certainly be ramping up now.

“I was just telling the truth.”

“I don’t need you to defend me! I can defend myself.”

“I know you can. You weren’t. There’s no point in yelling at me over it, it’s done now.”

“Fuck you, Jimin. Fuck all of this. I don’t need you to defend me, you didn’t have to do that.” You weren’t entirely sure why it was bothering you, maybe it was the way you hated being pitied, or maybe the fact that you couldn’t stand hearing him say things that you didn’t believe.

“I’m not defending you because I have to. I’m defending you because I want to. And you can say whatever you want to me, but I don’t intend to stop. Goodnight, Y/N.”

The silence after he hung up was deafening, and your stomach felt like a restless sea. You lowered your phone, staring at his contact photo. When did things change between you two? When had they gotten better? Or had they gotten worse? You ran your hand over your face, pushing your hair back and sinking lower on Hoseok’s couch.

“Good chat?” He asked. You shot him the sharpest glare you could muster, but he just laughed.

“Shut up. I hate him.”

You were grateful for the lack of interaction over the next several months. You did have a few interviews or promotional appearances with Jimin, but for the most part you barely had to talk to him. And you knew, if you pushed aside your pride and your own stubbornness that you were being childish again. You had overreacted, and he’d stayed ever calm and patient with you.

Now though it was premiere day, and avoiding Jimin for the entire evening (plus the after party that one of the other cast members had roped you into) was going to be damn near impossible. Especially with the way you were all but expected to play up your chemistry for the cameras. Luckily for you, you’d at least have Hoseok to drag along with you.

“How do I look?” You asked him, stepping out of your room where Hoseok was not so patiently waiting for you. Mostly because your driver would be waiting on the both of you if you took much longer. Of course you’d have stylists touching you up before you even faced the public.

“Like a goddess, can we go now?” Hoseok said, not even looking up from his phone. You huffed.

“Oppa,” You whined. “I need your opinion, you’re the one working in the fashion industry, not me.”

He sighed, looking up finally and smiling.

“You look amazing, you always do. You don’t really think I’d let you leave this house looking bad do you?” He asked, standing up to adjust the laces on your brand name heels – damned things were nearly impossible to tie on your own.

“Thanks. Come on, I know you’re itching to go.” You nudged at him once he’d finished fixing your shoes, grabbing your clutch and following him out the door and to the sleek black car awaiting you both.

Once inside, you sighed, wishing you could fiddle with your hair to relieve the nerves. You settled instead for toying with one of the rings that adorned your fingers.

“Why are you so nervous? You’ve gone to, like, a million of these things.” Your friend questioned, helping himself to a tiny bottle of champagne from the mini fridge. You shrugged.

“I guess that shit with Jimin is getting to me, and everything with people attacking me on the internet. I think I’m just ready to be done with this movie.” You tried to explain. And you wanted to go on to explain that you really were grateful to have been given the opportunity you were, but you knew that Hoseok understood without you tripping over your words to explain it.

“Well, you’re almost done. Let’s get this premiere over with.” He offered you a drink, and you greedily took it, thankful for something to smooth the nerves even a little bit.

The ride to the premiere was surprisingly long, plus you had to have your hair and makeup touched up before being delivered at the end of the media walk. Hoseok got out first, meeting you with an arm extended which you took with a smile. It wasn’t your usual smile, this was a smile just for the press.

The two of you walked the length of the carpet arm in arm, stopping to say hi to friends or coworkers and answer a couple questions for interviewers. This was always the most chaotic bit, everyone scrambling for everyone’s attention, camera flashes going off left and right.

When Jimin arrived, everyone knew it, even just from the screams of fans beyond the barriers trying to catch a glimpse of everyone. You tensed, your head instantly turning to see him coming. You knew the cameras were focused on the two of you now, even more so when he rushed through the carpet to catch up with you.

And dammit if he didn’t look stunning in an all black ensemble, his makeup lightly done, and his hair styled perfectly away from his forehead. You swallowed, smiling as he wrapped an arm around you in greeting.

“I got caught up with some other co-stars, I thought I was gonna miss her.” He said, not to you but to the cameras that were trained on you. “Can’t walk the red carpet without my leading lady.”

The simmering irritation at his charm was still there, and the taste of playing up a flirtation for the cameras was sickening. He greeted Hoseok too, and when his arm slipped away from around your shoulders you nearly sighed in relief.

Getting through the rest of the media went quickly, you and Jimin bantering and answering questions as vaguely as you could about the movie. Yes, you were super excited to see everyone’s hard work pay off. No, you couldn’t imagine things going any better. Yes, you were very grateful to work with your crew. Obviously you were nervous. No, you wouldn’t say your parts were any better than anyone else’s.

Finally you were ushered inside by staff. You hadn’t seen Seokjin since you’d gotten in, and you desperately wished you would. Just one more person to play buffer between you and Jimin. But even inside, Jimin’s kind nature didn’t falter. He smiled, telling you both again how wonderful you looked.

“I’m gonna say hi to a few people, but I imagine we’re seated near each other. I’ll see you both in a while.” He flashed a smile, and then he was sweeping off towards where a few of your fellow actors were chatting over complimentary drinks.

“I think that’s the most he’s said to me in months.” You admitted, grabbing a drink from a waiter’s tray and flashing them a grateful smile. You took a sip, and it took a great deal of your self control not to down it all at once. You weren’t normally a heavy drinker, but you were entirely prepared to drink your night away. After all, what is a movie premiere if not a pre-after party?

Once you were surrounded by friends and peers, your anxiety lessened. So much so that you temporarily forgot that you were stressed about the shambles of your relationship with Jimin at all. You chatted and talked with so many people that it half became a blur, catching up with friends from projects you’d worked on years ago. But finally, the movie was set to start, and you had a chance to relax even for a moment.

The movie came out better than even you had expected, though you were hardly surprised by that. The applause and cheers as the movie came to an end and the credits rolled brought on a sense of joy that you couldn’t find anywhere else. Pride, and excitement, and relief all rolling into one big starburst that exploded in your chest.

Hoseok hugged you tight, and you hugged him back, and were given congratulations from many of the guests. One step after the next until, finally, you were all dispersing for the after party.

The after party was held at someone or other’s hotel, with lights dimmed low and music pounding through the speakers. It reminded you of the sorts of things your friends had thrown in college but on a much bigger scale and with much more expensive booze. Which you were admittedly grateful for as you were given a mixed drink by one of the bartenders serving everyone.

You’d lost Hoseok somewhere with some guy who you were sure you’d met before but couldn’t quite recall. So you were happy to be settled by the bar, your phone in hand and eyes scanning the crowd. Every once in a while you’d find yourself chit chatting with other cast members, like Sammi who was getting a refill and decided to chat with you about her on again off again relationship with a dancer from Europe who you’d met maybe once or twice, or Max who was desperately trying to get you on their team for a drinking game they were playing on the other side of the room.

Now, however, you were chatting it up with Namjoon, one of the assistant directors on the project and a film prodigy really. He was sipping a cola, you’d heard that he hardly drank. And it was a nice conversation, discussing your relief at how well the film had come out and how you hoped it would be received.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Namjoon asked you after a while. You were on your third drink just since getting to the hotel, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t walking the line of intoxication, nearly toppling headfirst into the deep end. You nodded, sipping from the margarita in your hand.

“Sure, I’m an open book.” You agreed. He nodded, still seeming to mull over the question in his mind.

“I don’t mean this to be taken the wrong way, but that day on set,” He began. You tensed on the barstool beside him, shifting and smoothing your hand over your thighs. “Where did that emotion come from when you went off script? It was so powerful to watch back, and I was curious if it was maybe something that could be harnessed and used in scenes.”

His question was innocent, a genuine question from someone wholly passionate about their work, and you could respect and appreciate that. It made you smile. You tapped your fingers against the stem of your glass.

“I guess…I’d had a realization recently about the way my relationship with Jimin works, and I sort of let the irritation I felt in that moment get the best of me. I’m not sure if that was because of stress or exhaustion, but I don’t usually let things bother me like that.” You took a drink, thinking over his thought process. “I guess it could be used in a scene, the intensity of it. But I think anyone who has ever been overcome with emotion can pull that out with practice.”

Namjoon made a sound of amazement beside you, and you laughed. You hadn’t meant to sound all wise or anything, so you waved it off.

“Okay, we need shots. Then you’re dancing with me. Yeah?” You pointed to him, already turning to get a bartender’s attention before he could answer. This night was supposed to be fun, and most of your friends – Hoseok included – were on the dance floor that took up a great deal of the room.

You would have known that three shots of tequila in a row was a bad idea had they not been chasing several other drinks. But the looseness in your body was nice, and so was the way that the drinks made your anxiety stop spinning in your head. The music was loud, and you’d probably have the worst hangover in the morning, but you didn’t care as you danced in the crowd, your back pressed to Namjoon’s front as you both moved to the steady beat of the song and giggled into each other’s ears.

Hoseok appeared in front of you after several songs spent in your own little world with Namjoon, and you beamed at him.

“Hoseok oppa!” You cheered, reaching to grab his arm. He smiled back, looking over your shoulder at the man who was still holding you tight by your waist.

“Hey, sunshine. Good to see you’re having fun.” He said, holding his drink out of your reach when you reached for it.

“Give.” You ordered sternly, and he laughed, this time in your face with all the scornful mirth of an older brother.

“You look like you’ve had enough. It’s getting late, maybe I should get you home.” He said. You shook your head.

“No, we’re dancing! Right, Joonie? I can’t go home now.” You said, dragging the older man into your conversation. He opened his mouth to speak, but Hoseok held up a finger to stop him.

“Can I borrow her for a bit, Joonie?” He asked with a charming smile. Namjoon looked at you for a second before nodding and taking a step back. Well, as much of a step as he could with the crowd of people you were in the middle of.

Hoseok grabbed you by your arm with the firm but gentle grip that you’d learned meant he meant business. You followed his lead, weaving out of the crowd into the open space along the wall. It wasn’t as stuffy in the open air of the room, and the music didn’t seem to pound as hard, but it sucked the adrenaline you were riding on with it, bringing instead a sleepiness that you weren’t fond of. Maybe it really was later than you realized.

“I was having fun. Party pooper.” You pouted. He pouted back.

“You wouldn’t be having a whole lot of fun if your arch nemesis decided to cause a scene. He’s been glaring at Namjoon like he wants to kill him for the past half hour.” He pointed out. You didn’t even process how quickly your eyes flickered around the room for Jimin, and you deflated when you didn’t find him.

“Seriously, Hobi, I’m fine, I just want–” You paused, swallowing and then turning to look at him. “Actually I’m gonna throw up. But then I’m gonna go have fun.”

He didn’t get a chance to speak before you were bolting through the crowd, and he was following after you as best he could. However he could only go as far as the restroom door.

Alcohol, you decided, was much nicer going down than it was coming up. And even then, it wasn’t great. You heard Hobi’s voice from the door, calling in to check up on you. And eventually you managed to haul yourself off the floor and rinse your mouth before going back out to meet him. Your stomach was churning uneasily, and your skin was a little sticky with sweat, but you were determined that this was not going to ruin your night.

“I’m fine, oppa, I just wanna go dance.” You begged as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You would have fought harder if you’d had it in you. But fighting was just wasting your energy, and the tiredness was getting harder to ignore.

“There’ll be other parties. You’re going home. And you’re gonna call me to thank me in the morning.” He said. You were still arguing as he herded you towards a wall you could lean on while he grabbed both of your jackets.

“Hey, is she okay?” A voice asked, and you looked up so fast that it made you dizzy. Jimin. He was standing beside you, looking more concerned than you’d ever seen, and it made you giggle.

“Yeah, she’s just really drunk. And we both know she doesn’t hold her liquor well.” Hoseok explained, moving to wrap your jacket around you. As you stood up away from the wall, your body began to topple forward a bit, and Jimin grabbed at your waist to steady you. You looked at him, eyes wide as you realized the proximity between the two of you.

“Right. I can take her home. If you want. She’s closer to mine than yours. And there were some people who wanted to talk to you inside.” Jimin told Hoseok, still holding you up. His grip wasn’t particularly tight, but it nearly felt possessive. And there was something in the shared gaze of the two men that you missed, a desperation on both ends. Jimin clearly wanted to help, and Hoseok knew that even if you hated him for it, you needed the opportunity to talk.

“You have my number. Text me when you get her in, call if you need anything.” Hoseok told him, slowly letting go of you just to lean down to your level. “Behave yourself, don’t give the kid too much trouble.”

You nodded. You could smell Jimin’s cologne, it was the one you’d gotten him for his birthday during filming. Did he wear it with the intention of you noticing? Did he even remember that you’d gotten it for him? You leaned into his chest, your eyes closing for a minute. You exhaled slowly.

“Come on, let’s get you into a car and back to your house.” He said. His voice was soft, and it made you smile dreamily. He cared. Somebody properly cared.

“Okay.”

Getting you out of his car and into your house was one of the most difficult tasks that Jimin had ever been faced with, but he was patient with you as you giggled and hung on him, settling you down on the edge of your bed and leaving you alone to get you a glass of water.

He’d only been in your home a couple of times before, but despite its size and the overabundance of name brand furnishings, it was pretty easy to find his way around. He returned to your room to find you clumsily climbing back into bed, having managed to wiggle out of your dress and into a t-shirt. He sat the glass down on your bedside stand.

“Hey, before you sleep, let me help you take your makeup off.” He said, pointing at you and waiting for you to nod so he’d at least know you’d heard him. He nodded back, heading for the bathroom attached to your room and trying not to find anything he shouldn’t as he dug through your drawers. Finally though he came out with a package of makeup remover wipes, sitting at the edge of your bed. By the time he came back, you’d already gulped down most of the water.

You blinked up at him as he leaned forward, his finger tucking under your chin to guide your face. You closed your eyes as the proximity began making you feel a bit sick to your stomach. You really didn’t feel like throwing up again.

Jimin was careful as he diligently wiped off every trace of makeup you had on your face. He’d seen you bare faced before, but this was different. Seeing you without makeup, in your pajamas, and curled up in the safety of your own bed was too intimate. Especially when you were drunk and probably would have told him to get out had you not been.

He watched as you grabbed the stuffed dinosaur that sat on your pillow, huddling it to your chest and curling up beneath your blanket. He reached out, smoothing the fabric up around you nicely. You smiled at him, and he had to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“Are you comfortable?” He asked you, carefully removing the hair pins that he could see with you laid down, setting them in a pile on your stand. You nodded.

“Mhm, ‘m so comfy.” Your voice was slurring, but you sounded happy at least, and he liked that.

“Alright. I’m gonna catch the light. You can call my phone if you need me.” He smiled affectionately as he flicked the light off. You made a soft noise at the change, rolling over to look at him.

“Jimin,” You called. He stopped in the doorway to look at you. “Will you stay with me?”

His lips parted like he was about to speak, but your desperate look was enough to shut him up. He nodded, padding his way over to your bed and sitting at the edge. You reached out, whining until he scooched close enough for you to touch him.

It was quiet for a while as he sat leaned against the headboard, your hand holding one of his arms in the dark. What was there to say anyway? He was just happy that you were making an attempt at resting, and you were happy that you were finally getting the opportunity to be close to him. A dream come true.

After a few minutes, Jimin was convinced you were asleep, your eyes had closed and your grip on his arm had loosened, but when he tried to move, you grasped at his shirt again, eyes opening to look at him like a kicked puppy.

“It’s really late, I should be going home.” He said softly. You looked away, slowly letting go of his shirt.

“You said you’d stay.”

“You’re drunk, you don’t know what you’re doing right now. It wouldn’t be right of me to take advantage of that. I’ve been selfish enough with you.”

“I’m drunk, not stupid.” You huffed, curling up tighter on yourself. “You make me so angry, do you know that?”

Jimin chuckled.

“Everyone knows that, sweetheart. You don’t exactly try to hide it.” He said. You smiled. Yeah, you didn’t try to hide it, but he wasn’t understanding what you were trying to say.

“You don’t get it. You are so kind, and so talented, but you’re so insecure about it and it makes me angry. Then you take it out on me. Do you know that? You always have to criticize me.” You huffed as Jimin moved to stretch out on your bed, folding his hands behind his back. “You always criticize me and nobody else, and it makes me feel like maybe I’m the problem. Am I the problem?”

He closed his eyes.

“No, you’re not the problem. I’m the problem.”

“You’re too good to be a problem. You’re my problem. You make my head all stupid and I can’t focus when you’re around.”

“I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being serious. You didn’t really care at the moment.

“I like you so much and I shouldn’t. That’s not fair to me. I can’t like you when that’s exactly what everyone expects of me. I’m only popular because of you, did you know that too?”

He had heard, though it was impossible for him to actually believe. Not when you were talented and stunning and so ambitious it physically hurt. No, you paved your own way, he was grateful to even be associated with you at all. But you didn’t see it that way, he knew that. But other people didn’t know you, and you were never very good at giving yourself proper credit.

“That’s not true.” He told you.

“But everyone else thinks it’s true. So isn’t it true? That’s how that works, Jimin. If enough people believe it, then it doesn’t matter what is actually true. And everyone believes that I’m only where I am because of you. So I am. I don’t even know what it means to not be in your shadow. For as long as I can remember it’s been Jimin and his leading lady. It’s never been just me. I don’t know what it means to just be me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. You didn’t mean to think about that, it made your chest feel hollow.

“I hate all of it. I hate that I can’t stop thinking about you, and that I want to impress you so badly, and I hate that I know I’m in love with you.”

Jimin stopped, his breath catching in his throat. Love. You love him, and you were hurting, and he was helpless in fixing it. You didn’t want him to fix it, and somehow that was the part that made him smile. He knew you’d rather fight your own battles, he’d always admired you for that.

“I think you should sleep now, it’s late.” He said. You nodded, stifling a yawn and scooting closer until you were pressing against his arm.

“You’ll stay?” You asked.

“You’ll be angry with me in the morning.” He said. That was just a fact, he knew that whether you remembered tonight or not, you’d be feeling a lot of things all at once in the morning. You didn’t answer, already sound asleep. He sighed, closing his own eyes. The morning’s arguments were best left for the morning. You clearly needed rest more than anything, and he wasn’t going to leave your side if you wanted him there.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” He whispered, not wanting to disturb your sleep. “I’ll try to make it up to you.”

The morning came with a terrible hangover, which was to be expected. It was early afternoon before you woke up, burying yourself in your blankets to hide from the midday sunshine filtering through your window. You didn’t really remember a whole lot of the night before, let alone how you’d gotten home. Hopefully you’d managed to not make a complete fool of yourself, but there weren’t many things you’d put past your drunk self.

You stayed hidden away under your blankets for some time before finally poking your head out and finding your phone. Your head was throbbing, but hiding wasn’t going to make that go away. There was a glass of water and a couple painkillers on the bedside stand, and you smiled a bit. Hoseok, you figured. He was usually the one to take care of you when you were intoxicated – not that this happened all the time. You took the pills, downing the whole glass of water in one go.

There were about a hundred notifications on your phone, most of them from your various social media, pictures and videos from the after party and the premiere. And a voicemail from Seokjin that you had every intention of ignoring for the day. There were also a few from Hoseok checking in on you and scolding you for drinking so much when you knew you couldn’t hold your liquor. But the one that caught your eye was a single one from Jimin.

I let myself out this morning, you seemed pretty well out. Sorry for intruding last night, let me know you’re okay when you wake up.

You stared at the words on the screen, trying to make sense of them. There was a brief memory from the night before, dancing with Namjoon while Jimin watched, preening at the fact that you’d managed to make him jealous. Then another; waking in the middle of the night to Jimin’s arms wrapped around you, your head on his chest. You swallowed. Had you gone home with him? Had things taken a turn for the worse?

You did the obvious and called Hoseok before you even read all of his texts. He picked up, sounding much more chipper than you were at the time.

“Did I go home with Park Jimin?” You asked quickly before he was finished with his hello.

“You know, you sure interrupt a lot for someone who is calling me on my only day off this week.” He scolded, and you could hear his smile. You rolled your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“Hoseok, please.” You said. You couldn’t hear him, but you imagined he was frozen in place given the long silence that followed your begging. He wasn’t accustomed to hearing you say please, not to him anyways. You’d both dropped that pretty soon into your friendship.

“He drove you home, you were really drunk.” He told you after a minute. You nodded. You weren’t wearing the same clothes as the night before, those had been discarded on your floor. You didn’t remember changing, and your stomach dropped at the idea that you and Jimin may have…

“I gotta go. Thank you.” You said, barely catching him asking you to wait as you hung up. You felt sick, partly from the anxiety, and partly from the hangover you were suffering from. You stared down at your phone.

You didn’t talk to anyone else for a while, just trying to wrap your head around whatever had happened the night before. You knew drinking so much was going to be a terrible idea, but you weren’t always the best with self control when you were as stressed as you had been. You considered texting Jimin, but you never did, too afraid to interact with him now that you were sober.

Whatever you’d been feeling for him was pointless, and you didn’t see any reason to embarrass yourself more by pushing the point. And maybe he had just harmlessly brought you home, you wouldn’t put it past him because even when he was tearing you to shreds, Jimin was so entirely good. He wouldn’t do anything you hadn’t wanted him to. Which was the reason you were worried actually, there were so many things you wanted Jimin to do. And sometimes people regret their actions in the morning light.

Later in the evening when you had finished eating your dinner and were forcing yourself to think about anything other than the empty space in your memory where the previous night should be, you listened to Seokjin’s voicemail. He’d been contacted about getting you on a new movie. And so soon after your last premiere. You texted him back. No promises, but you’d hear it out.

You should have known. You stared at the paperwork that had been passed to you and Seokjin. Mostly so you wouldn’t have to look at Jimin who was sitting on the other side of the long table you were sitting at with his own agents.

The role was one you could easily pass on, but the pay would be nice, and it was different from what you were used to. You wouldn’t be playing directly opposite Jimin. All in all, from your own experiences, it was a good deal. But there were still reservations in your mind, a nervousness that you couldn’t shake.

“I don’t think I’m right for this role. I’m planning on taking some time off anyway after my last big project, but I think you can find someone better for this.” He said after a few moments of quiet. The entire table looked at him in disbelief then. It wasn’t the first time Jimin had ever turned down a role, but it was certainly a surprise for him to turn down one that could be big for him.

“Jimin,” You said. He looked over at you, and your heart leapt into your throat at the look in his eye. You’d never seen this side of him before, the vulnerable part that he tried so hard to hide. “You should think this through.”

“I have. I’m sorry, but I can’t accept this role.” He stood, bowing his head politely towards the table, then turned to leave with his manager and agents hot on his heels. You stood quickly, shooting Seokjin an apologetic look, but he waved you off. You followed Jimin’s lead, apologizing quickly to everyone and heading for the door.

“Jimin, wait. Can we talk?” You called. He was stopped at the elevator down the hall, turning to look up when you spoke. “Get coffee with me? There’s a cafeteria downstairs.”

He nodded, turning to speak to his team before letting them step into the waiting elevator, leaving just you and Jimin in the hall. You felt small in such an open space, about to be open with him about your emotions. Not your favorite thing to do anyway, actually.

The walk to the cafeteria was silent between the two of you, neither one of you ready to broach the subject until you were sitting down and had something to sip at. You were actually sort of grateful for the couple of minutes to gather your thoughts in a somewhat coherent manner.

“You can find a seat, I’ll get drinks.” Jimin said as you both entered the room. You smiled a little bit just at the sound of his voice. He sounded more relaxed now than he had been in the meeting room. That eased your nerves a little bit, or maybe it was just being close to him that made your mind quiet down.

“Right. Thank you.” You found a table in the corner with a decent view out one of the windows. It wasn’t important to have a nice view necessarily, but the flowers blooming in the small courtyard beneath a stunning blue sky would make a good distraction from the uncomfortable conversation you were going to be having soon.

You watched out the window at the birds swooping through the sky, tapping your fingertips against the table. You wondered what flying felt like; being able to go, and do, and be without worrying about anything tying you down. You hadn’t had a taste of actual freedom in so long, and you wondered if you’d give up your career for it.

You looked up as Jimin pulled out his own seat, placing your coffee in front of you. You thanked him, bringing it up to take a sip and humming. Just the way you liked it.

“You wanted to talk.” Jimin said, half questioning and half reminding you. You nodded a tiny bit, training your eyes on the outside. If there was a choice between opening up like this to Jimin and death by 1,000 cuts, you’d take the cuts. Unfortunately for you, there wasn’t such a choice.

“You should take the role if you want it.” You said. That wasn’t all you wanted to say, but it seemed the most important at present. Jimin shifted in his seat, mulling over his words.

“It’ll be better if you take yours. And I figure…I mean, you wanted space from me. You don’t want it to seem like you’re relying on me to get ahead. So I’ll stay out of your way.” He said. You scoffed.

“I don’t need you to forfeit your roles for me.” You told him.

“It’s not my role until I accept it. And I didn’t accept it.”

“Stop arguing over wording. You know exactly what I’m saying.” You shook your head. “No, I’m not accepting the role. I didn’t want to anyway. I’m taking a break.”

“A break?”

You nodded, tracing your fingertips along the side of your cup.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll give something else a try.” You laughed a little. “I’m not even sure what I like outside of acting. Maybe I’ll become a photographer. I used to want to be one when I was little. Before we met.”

“If this is about the whole ‘I don’t know who I am in your shadow’ thing that you said after the party, I’ll stay out of your way. Don’t quit your dream because of me.” He said, leaning forward. There was still a table’s distance between you, but having him press that little bit closer had you swallowing hard. Had you said that? That you were in his shadow, that you didn’t know who you were? It wasn’t a lie.

“That’s not…I don’t want you out of the way, okay? I don’t know what I said that night, or what you think I want, but I don’t want you to leave.” You told him firmly, meeting his eye almost desperately. After all of this, the last thing you wanted was Jimin gone.

“I don’t want to discredit you just by existing with you. And I don’t want you to think that I do.” He said, pushing away his untouched coffee like the thought of drinking it was entirely disgusting.

“I don’t think that, Jimin. I don’t think I ever really did, but I didn’t know who else to blame. It’s easier acting like you were the bad guy. At least then I had someone to take everything out on, and I think I was jealous. I was sick of everyone putting you on a pedestal and treating me like I wasn’t even good enough to be seen in the same films as you.” You rambled before stopping in taking a deep breath. “It was immature, I’m sorry. But I know you don’t mean anything bad.”

Jimin took a moment, watching as you rambled on about your own insecurities. He’d never realized you’d hated him so much, maybe because he was blinded by his own admiration for you. And now you looked so broken as you sat across from him, brimming with nerves and frustration at your own thoughts. He laughed.

“You didn’t ever change, did you know that?” He asked. You paused where you were in the middle of bringing your drink to your mouth again. “You still ramble on when you get nervous, and you get angry when you’re insecure. Just like when we first met.”

You glared at him, biting your tongue to keep from snapping at his unnecessary observation. No need to prove his point by getting an attitude.

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids. I had just given up on you seeing me as anything more than a rival.” He looked positively giddy, and you were struggling to wrap your mind around what he was hinting at.

“Jimin, I…I don’t know what to say to that.” You admitted.

“Say you’ll go on a date with me. I know you love me, you’ve told me so. And you clearly respect me. And you know I would do anything to help you chase your dreams. As an actor or as a photographer. You could clean animal stables if you wanted and I’d still do anything to support you.” His confession was catching you entirely off guard. You hadn’t come here to confess to him, not exactly, but your heart was beating out of your chest. “Tell me what you want from me and I’ll do it.”

“I want you to do what you want.” You said after another few beats of silence.

“I want to be with you. No matter what the media, or fans, or anyone else has to say about it. At least try it out.” He said, reaching out to touch your hand. He brushed his fingertips along the back of your hand before intertwining your fingers.

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’ve never been this sure of anything in my life.”

You couldn’t stifle your smile anymore, a swarm of butterflies erupting in your stomach and tickling a giggle out of you.

“I’m still not taking that role. I don’t need people thinking I get all my roles because you’re in love with me.”

Jimin laughed, and you swore you’d never heard a sound so pretty in your entire life. You smiled.

“I don’t care what roles you take, I just care that you’re happy.” He promised. And for the first time since you’d met him years before, you actually believed every single word, no hesitations. He wanted you happy, and you wanted him even happier yet.

239 notes · View notes

tys-kitty · 2 months

Note

It was quite a lot of my mother's side of the family, my grandma (81, absolutely bonkers) and my aunt are going to Poland to visit my cousins (my aunt's eldest child, his wife and their daughter, Angel) for a week, so we gathered to say goodbye and give them any presents we had for Angel (she's had a birthday since the last of us went to Poland). It was less of a dinner and more of a "bring a plate of finger food" but I don't see them often because I work nights so catching up was nice.

I watched the new PJO last night actually! I waited until it was all released before I watched any of it (anxiety and cliffhangers don't mix well (I knew what would happen but anxiety doesn't care)) Oh my stars, those kids all did so well!!! It was a joy to watch from start to finish!! (for me at least, I know fan opinion is split)

Oh you ask the hard questions, don't you? My favourite TSC characters (I'm gonna cheat and say 2) I would have to say is Ty and Alec. I relate to both of them a lot. Ty was the first character like me (autistic) I ever saw in the media and there just aren't words for how much that meant to me. Alec I related to a lot as well because all he wants is his family safe and happy, even if he has to change the world to do it.

What about you? Who's your favourite of the TMI gang?

-☀️

Oh that sounds so wholesome! Is is okay if I ask from which country you‘re from (you don‘t have to answer)? Omg you work nights?! I could never do that! I‘m a day person through and through and have to be at bed by 10 pm like a grandma haha.

That‘s actually so smart (even though I would have been way too impatient to wait that long to watch it haha). I loved the show so much, but I still understand certain critique points like the pacing. As you said the actors did absolutely amazing (The angst in episode five?!? They are the perfect Percabeth). I literally screamed and needed to pause the episode for 5 minutes when the first „Seaweed Brain“ dropped. And the last episode was just crazy good! What was your favorite episode or scene?

They‘re two of my favs as well! And it‘s so amazing that you saw yourself representing through Ty! (I think that also shows how important it is to write characters that people can relate to).

So I actually have quite a lot of characters I love but my absolute favourite has to be Kit. I was simply so moved by his story and that even though he had a tough and unloving childhood, he‘s a such a gentle and kindhearted person and never truly loses hope.

My favourite TSC gang would either be the TLH or the TMI gang. I can‘t even really explain why but I just love them so much.

What about you? And here‘s another tough question: Which is your favourite TSC book?

Happy Valentine’s Day btw! I really love chatting with you!

Love you lots! 💕

#asks #☀️ <3

2 notes · View notes

tutuandscoot · 2 years

Text

The Falling Angel

Analysing MR series

This is one of my most favourite pieces of chore they ever did (I was so bummed they had to change it) this is based on chore from the ballet Manon and specifically the final pdd where she is dying (I’ve already done two posts about it and there’s also this in where DW confirms that was the inspiration for Satine’s death scene).

I love the way it moved across the ice, really the whole scene from the curve lift to him sitting her on his lap, then the falling angel and into the last lift is just so exquisite. I’ve heard the comparisons between skating and ballet (in general) and where skaters argue you don’t get the flow of movement, the speed in ballet, I would say skaters don’t have the same ethereal weightlessness and freedom of movement that dancers do. EXCEPT OF COURSE VM..

Let’s break it down.

The quality of movement and story telling:

The way Tessa moves is unmatched in her sport in general. I legitimately believe she is dying- she makes me believe it. What she does here is she has this amazing ability to completely abandon all her limbs yet remain so strong in her core. She has the most exquisite port de bras (arm carriage) in that she doesn’t just let her arms flop, she doesn’t do anything to exaggerate the movement, it’s like she is slowly letting her limbs weaken and not simply loose control of them. I believe she is in kind of a dazed trance and I believe that she actually thinks she is as well-like she’s good enough of an actor to let herself feel that daze, that look in her eyes where there is still emotion coming out but it’s past the point of recognising the pain she’s in. It’s not like she drops and pops back to life again after each fall. This whole sequence is like she’s slowly leaving the world, but in the faintest, softest way is still communicating with him. The first arabesque as she looks up, it’s like she’s telling him she wants to go that way, or there’s something over there he needs to see, but she’s slipping in and out of consciousness.

This whole scene is all about her but it would not be what it’s is without Scott being the best, most talented, most intelligent and stunning dancer himself. The way he matches her gaze as she looks up. He (both him and his character) are listening to everything she’s still saying, he doesn’t react to her falling until she’s actually fallen- he doesn’t know she’s beginning to die until then. He gives equal value to saving her from falling and what she is trying to tell him. I can feel from him each time he catches her a little ‘gasp’ or softly exclaiming ‘no!’ It’s not like he’s saying it but it’s through his breath (esp that one in the 4th gif from HPC). He acts it like he instinctually knows where and how to catch her- like how you would actually be trying to save the love of your life- he prioritises catching her head and not allowing her neck to break (bend) back hard (which btw, obviously this is choreographed but I don’t even think they would have to tell him how to actually catch her coz it’s the exact same way he holds and cradles her in general even when they’re happy).

Partnering:

As mentioned above, Tessa’s iron core is what makes this movement possible. But it’s what Scott does though out all of this that makes it magical and never ceases to amaze me. Both the instances of them practicing/performing it on the floor; watch how he matches her arabesques as her leg goes up. There is absolutely no reason for him to do that when practicing it on the floor because it can’t be done/isn’t what he does when skating it. This is a prime, obvious example of just how good they are, what a phenomenal partner he is and specifically his attentiveness to her and her movement. He even matches her when it’s not necessary. It also just for me in my little ballerina feels a *clutches heart* moment because that’s exactly what male partners do with their women when performing any classical pdd. I don’t know the extent of their ballet training (in regards to skating, together, both of them) but it’s very very obvious he was paying close attention to all the little things in ballet class as it relates to partnering especially, but also the importance of finishing his own lines- turn out, pointed feet (LOOK HOW POINTED HIS FEET ALWAYS ARE). I just know that every day they were at the barre he was matching her lines down to the millimetre. No excuses for being a boy and not being/needing to be as flexible or not needing high legs- it’s obvious in all their programs just how flexible he is and the importance of being both completely aware of himself and of her. Like he wouldn’t (need to) look in the mirror to check is own lines- Tessa was his mirror so as long as he matched her he was doing it right. That he knows intuitively to match her arabesque lines off ice, then when skating where his foot work is completely different, still complements her in all the other ways is just………I’m in love with the guy I think that’s obvious at this point.

Another thing about their partnering in general which I think I’ve figured out how to word after making this post, is that balance they have between doing every lift-kind of movement together- feeling as though she’s lifting herself so its not on him to get her anywhere, and how they let it appear as though he is a actually guiding her through every movement- leading her, not letting her dictate the musicality or where anything goes. A time he does ‘lift’ her it’s so light and there is never any struggle. It’s that their cores are (one step removed from literally) connected to each other’s. And it comes from them connecting their breathing (as soft and lovely as the hug™️ is, this is the actual physical result and purpose of doing it). You can see it (it’s very subtle) in the way he goes with her as she falls. He doesn’t resist his movement against her’s as to counter her body falling. Look in any of the gifs above (on/off ice) how far off-centre she goes before he even makes contact with her. Off ice it’s starts with him matching her arabesque, on ice it’s matching her gaze, loosing her out of his line of vision for a brief moment, her (choreographically) trusting he will catch her which allows her to go so far off balance but from a character perspective she doesn’t know what will happen, she just falls cause her body is weakening. The first time he doesn’t know she’s going to fall, then you can see on the second side he stays closer to her and actually checks her body to know if happens again where he needs to be to save her. As she falls he moves with her, and they use their breath to create that circular motion, that flow to get her back on her feet. It feels so light for both of them, just to watch it, I don’t feel like she’s heavy and he has to heave her to get her to stand up again. They’re able to do this both when she’s further away from him (the first fall) and when has her so much closer to him the second time.

Detail:

I use to try so see if I could figure out whether when she falls if he actually helps her off her skate by nudging her a bit off balance, or whether it’s just her letting her weight fall to the outside edge of her blade and turning in a bit to loose her own balance. It’s kinda hard to tell- in all of these instances it differs. I think more than likely it’s just her controlling her tipping point but I also think it’s interesting, like with the matching arabesque lines, how on the floor she will go to a full or half relevé and (in the studio- mural version) and fall over her demi pointe, in the rehearsal version she stays flat until the last second then rises up. The difference with this is one is more of a ‘performance’ and the other they aren’t going ‘full out’ so I don’t want to get too specific. The main point of this (which there’s not really a point to but I thought I’d explain it anyway) from a dancers POV is the way she falls off balance in her skates is the ‘correct’ way you’d be doing it as a dancer if on the floor. To get into and out of the floor with these kinda off-balance things is to go off the side of the ankle and roll down through the calf muscle- you never go over the arch of the foot as she kinda does in the last one. I just think it’s interesting coz she uses the correct (dancer’s) technique to get off her skates as we would on the floor, but on the floor she does more of a ballet version of it which you would only be doing in pointe shoes- falling forward off the block. The over the ankle (the skating version) can be quite tricky and dangerous for people that aren’t used to it coz you essentially have to deliberately roll your ankle. It’s much safer for her, given the huge differences in ankle/foot pliability skaters have compared to dancers, for her to go to demi pointe- obviously knowing she doesn’t actually have to fall to the ground.

Lastly, the way they make sense of this scene for themselves and how they want to play it. They literally talk through what is happening in the story and transfer that into their bodies. This is all normal stuff for dancers of their standard, it doesn’t surprise me, but I just love listening to it because I speak their language and I know exactly what that feels like- to transfer an idea, a verbal queue into the way you move your body, and in their case who they move together to tell us what is happening:

The way he looks at her as he talks through how to play it. T really doesn’t lie when she says how he just feels so much and just has this huge heart and puts everything into what they do together. Always thinking about how he can make her look better and play to her. So she knows when he’s gonna come in to catch her. It’s so beautiful to watch them move together like this- watching them figuring it out, how they physically just know how to respond to each other instinctually.

#fd: moulin rouge #part of a long series of breaking down everything thi k about this magical piece of art

22 notes · View notes

mlobsters · 6 months

Text

supernatural s11e6 our little world (w. robert berens)

crowley is stronger than amara? okie doke. so does cas's janky wing situation mean he still can't zap around? (presumably to add tension or whatever not being able to teleport over to save the day etc). anyway.

always interesting when they choose to have someone be traumatized by the traumatic things they've done/had done to them. this surely isn't the first time cas has beaten dean up, or killed a bunch of people/angels.

remember the days when i grumped about them not even acknowledging the mystery spot trauma for sam? well, i still grump about it. but now that's like a drop in the flood of traumatic experiences that get passed over.

anyway. we'll see how they do this ptsd/agorophobia situation.

too many plotlines/characters ugh. rowena in the wind, metatron popping up, cas doing whatever, crowley trying to control amara, amara out there partially eating people. a good chunk of why 11x04 was good for me was there wasn't all this bullshit going on :p

at least sam and dean know about amara and crowley now.

SAM No, no, no. Dean, wait. We can exorcise him. DEAN What? SAM Save his meat suit.

look at that, they remembered! :p also feels like the perennial excuse for not having to exorcise people is demons are all running around in dead bodies they're keeping alive. they're all dead anyway, huzzah, stab away

SAM Wouldn't it be smarter to keep her in Hell? DEAN Yeah, but then he'd have to spend more time there, and he hates that place. SAM Oh, right. I keep forgetting about you and Crowley's summer of love.

lol it needed to be said! bring that bitchy energy, sam. i'd seen gifs of that, definitely requires one to capture the vibe

unfortunate hair styling choices. 90s prom? beauty pageant? weird.

SAM No, that's not what I meant. We're going in to kill Amara. Are you ready for that? DEAN Why wouldn't I be? SAM Because we don't know the first thing about her, Dean. We don't know her powers. We don't know how to take her down. Hell, you know what? We don't even know if she can be killed. DEAN I know. But she's too big of a threat to wait. I say we go in there and we hit her with everything we got.

maybe i'm a doofus but i didn't consider until now that dean is trying to get to amara for other reasons? blugh. cat'll be out of the bag though if sam's around when they find her though surely. i'm tiiiired

haha take that credit, bro (honestly i can't even remember)

he has a fine actor but i am *so tired* of metatron. i hope he gets taken out of the equation sooner rather than later. i guess the opportunity to beat the shit out of him fixed cas's mental health situation. tada.

remind us of demon!dean days so we'll remember the context of the voicemail :p cute nonetheless. oh i bet that's in the recap too. i dunno why netflix doesn't have the beginning of the episode recaps anymore, started in s10. scrimp on music licensing?

OF COURSE they have to split up and just dean is going to amara.

CROWLEY Do you know how disturbing it was to realize that I couldn't bring myself to kill you? I've had tons of chances over the years, some you don't even know about, but, still... I made my peace with it, embraced my softer side, learned to accept that there was just too much going on between you and I–bromance.

not sure why dean looks surprised by that but ok

CROWLEY But you know what? I think I am gonna kill you today. I feel different somehow, ready. What can I say? Fatherhood changes a man.

feel like that was just a setup so amara could show her ~bond~ to dean (oh actually this is dredging up vague memories of a fic i read a long time ago, hmmm ok. chance to pick sam over amara). anyway point i was thinking about was wondering if they'd ever have crowley seriously try to kill dean at any point going forward

right, sammy's gotta save these rando demon guards meatsuits, hope they're not just walking corpses

think you need to be lookin the other direction, sam

for whatever it's worth, jackles did a good job looking vulnerable with amara being creepy

CASTIEL You said you were close. Dean, how'd she get away? DEAN I'm sorry, what part of "God's freaking sister" did you not understand? She overpowered me -- end of story.

i'm just so tired of it because it's happened so many times. we just did this last season. and before that and before that. i'm exhausted. you make the brothers and their relationship the lynchpin of the show, and then you have them do this over and over and over. like, so tired and frustrated it made me cry a little bit. just like. COME FUCKING ON. not like we're lacking for conflict or plot. i can't appreciate if it's better executed this time (compared to i dunno, stabbing jewel staite) because i'm so FUCKING sick of this. maybe if this went down several seasons ago, i could appreciate it more.

i appreciate they made the cage aesthetic here like the little tiny glimpse we got of dean in hell. again wondering if sam didn't remember the cage after he got his hallucifer stuff fixed. i assumed he did. sure makes a different in characterization if he's not toting around x amount of years of torture like dean.

abrupt segue into girl you'll be a woman soon. can't really hear that song without thinking of pulp fiction. this is me just realizing it wasn't the neil diamond version in the movie?? it's urge overkill lol (also the version used in the episode). wild

youtube

and update on what the baby episode did to my brain, i was listening to the guitar man and getting weepy and thinking how that totally could be a j2 edit/fic/something song lolsob ridiculous

#supernatural #spnwatch #spn 11x06 #spnwhinge #music #Youtube

1 note · View note

crimsonfluidessence · 2 years

Text

Prompt 26: Break A Leg

It was a simple conversation with Alise, back in the days of the war, when she asked a question. “...Do you think the Garleans ever plan on coming back?” “Probably. And it’ll be awful when they do.” “Eh, we’ll definitely kick their asses.” "I'd love to kick their asses myself if I wasn't so occupied with Ishgard." “You’ve got frost bitten asses to kick instead.” Esredes chuckled at this comment. “You’ve got frost bitten asses to kick instead.” “Ah, you liked that?” She giggled. “How about this. You’ll cut through the bone better than any chill wind.” "Oh, I do like that. I'm going to have to use that someday." “They’ll try to put you on ice but you’ll just bring the heat. Man, I’m a goldmine of sayings.” "I'll use the heat to melt them into liquid that will then be frozen back into ice." “Eh, you can do better than that.” She smirked at him. "What, is that not good enough for your standards?" He squinted at her. "Well sorry. It takes effort to think of these." “Oh c’mon! I was joking!” And she laughed even more. Esredes crossed his arms. "You're not funny." “Aww don’t be mad.” She gently poked his arm. “I thought you had thicker skin than that. Literally.” "I do have thicker skin than that in both senses. It's a lot tamer of an insult than I am used to." “I definitely didn’t mean to insult you. I’m sorry.” She gently patted his shoulder. “Forgive me? Pretty please?” This earned her a scoff. "I know it was a joke, I was reacting that way on purpose. Don't worry, you're fine." “Hey- I was actually worried I hurt your feelings there. Your act was too convincing.” "Really? Then I suppose I still have some tricks up my sleeve." He smirked. “Then I expect to continue to be surprised.” "Believe me, you will be. I consider myself a decent untrained actor." “If you didn’t turn heretic, would acting have been your next big career choice?" She asked. "I’m picturing musicals.” Esredes made a face. "...No. Not at all. Acting and singing are definitely not my passions." She laughed again. “But it’s so fun. The singing, the dancing, and capturing the audience. Not that I was ever in one, mom just took me to see a bunch.” He'd definitely seen them too. It was majestic and perhaps even magical in its own way- entertaining indeed. But for him? "And you really think I have the appearance to pull that off? No way. I would not captivate anyone." “With that sharp face and the way you hold yourself, you’re dead wrong. Also you got that, what’s it called? That Elezen charm. You could make a compelling villain.” ...Lovely. Another scoff escaped him. "Maybe, but even then, I told you I don't have that charm. And I can't sing at all." “Have you ever tried singing?” "No, and that's why I can't." “You should try it some day.” "But why would I?" “I dunno, it’s fun? Passes the time?” "I think I can accomplish that other ways just fine." “Suit yourself. I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna take a seat by the fire. You’re free to join and warm up.”

And that was the end of that discussion. There was nothing else to say, as Esredes believed. He was dramatic, but not theatrical. He could only practically act, not... stage act. And he'd never remember his lines- theatre was a pleasant performance art he went to watch, not something a soldier could ever involve himself in.

It wasn't like he ever dressed up in a costume.... and showed himself to a group of people, while acting in character. No, because Bee Club was not a real place, and it definitely didn't have an All Saints party, in which Esredes was dressed up like a fallen angel with the fake wings on his back and everything, and they definitely didn't have a costume judgement section where he had to present this costume.

In that moment, Esredes had taken a step forward when it was his turn, stretching his arms out from his body and shutting his eyes. He crossed a leg over the other and dropped in a half bow, and his arms fell slowly to his side, graceful and serene as he hoped it was appearing. He was adorned in a long black and red long robe, with feathered gloves and a feathered chain headpiece, and of course, those wings strapped to his back fighting to stay in place. "I am a Fallen Angel." He began. "A shepherd of souls to the Heavens above, a protector of all that is good and holy. Alas, purity comes at a cost, and some angels are born with a black heart shrouded in white. Even the greatest and holiest of beings, cannot hide their true nature. So I was cast down, and so I fell to my death- only to wake up far down below." Esredes slowly rose up as he spoke, raising his arms up to be held with his hands above himself. He smiled in a slightly... unnerving manner. "Now you have heard my story, and have stumbled upon my domain. Tell me, do you believe that my wings still work, and that I may guide you to heights you've never known... or to depths you fear to reach, dear little mortal?" Elouan, in all of his beloved processing delays, only grasped the monologue several moments after Esredes had finished. "I believe they do, and take me high, and high, and highhhh up to touch one of the stars!" He went on his tip toes in demonstration, and Esredes smiled back at him. "Right then, angel," Yvesoix said as Esredes talked. "What do the 'eavens look like, and what do y'wish y'could 'ave from 'em again?" Esredes turned his head right towards him. "The Heavens are a place of gilded streets and silver linings," he said without missing a beat. "When I was amongst them, the words came easy off my silver tongue, and I was as beautiful as any other angel. Be it all but a veil, I would wish to dip right into silver liquid and bathe myself once more in their essence, if only for a moment before my skin burned me alive."

There were a variety of reactions from the audience. "G-Gods....." "Oooooh! Cool concept, Esredes!" "...Cool beans."

"Thank you, I didn't come up with it." Esredes replied back.

"Nicely done, Esredes!" Elouan clapped. "That's super cool....I've not met an angle before! Or a fallen one, uh....I guess it's time for Xavierre, now!" Meanwhile, Rusty was digging the earwax out of one ear the whole time. "Y'know, I felt it in my gut. This role is natural to you, for real." "Well, it fits." "That bein' said, if that's what your idea of Heaven is like, I'd rather go to Hell."

Except if he saw Esredes in any of the seven, Esredes knew he would eat those words alive at the mere thought of being stuck with him forever.

The rest presented their costumes, and then Elouan looked all around and clapped. "Ah, it was really hard to choose from all the amazing costumes! I loved them all and the effort put into it, but only one can win tonight...We've decided on Esredes!" His eyes went wide. "Thank you, fallen angel, and for all your effort involved! It shows and you should be proud," he said with more applause following. "R-really?!" "Aye! Congratulations! It was super hard, y'know, deciding between everyone....If we had more prizes, I'd give 'em out to everyone," Elouan was sulking. "Congrats, Esredes. Your actin' really sealed the deal." Rusty said. "Ah, I... I never really thought I would be even close..." Esredes said. "Thank you..." "I loved everyone's costumes and you should be proud, yes! I liked it all and uh, the descrptions were super cool. I'm inspired by you guys." Elouan beamed and cheered. The others began to join him... Elouan came over and hugged the angel, and the others began to chant for a speech. Elouan ran to the kitchen, returning with a carnation that he handed off to Esredes. The big smile Esredes had as he took it bordered on goofy.

"Well, I have Victor to thank for the idea in the first place, a certain anonymous individual for the wings, my coworker Heilyn for making the costume, my own life for the inspiration, and Elouan and the rest of this club, for existing. Thank you all for being wonderful individuals to make the world a little more like one of the Heavens, and letting me share in it despite everything." Elouan clapped happily. "Aw....That's a wonderful speech! Love you, Esredes, and congratulations!" "Being a commander pays off." It was not natural for someone like Esredes to smile this much. Not at all.

After this the group moved on to campfire stories, but Esredes was still elated, genuinely and purely elated, for the whole rest of the event. He never believed he could have ever genuinely won a costume contest, no less on his second attempt at ever dressing up.

Who knew a thinly veiled metaphor for your whole life could make for such good acting?

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2022 #yvesoix #elouan #rusty #xavierre #victor #in action #fallen angel costume #alise #screenshots #community center

6 notes · View notes

wincore · 3 years

Text

romeo roulette | jung yoonoh

pairing: jaehyun x fem!reader

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

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

words: 21.2k

warnings: language

song recs: playlist here !

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

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

Jung Yoonoh. Get your act together.

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

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

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

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

This whole charade dates its beginning to a week ago.

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

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

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

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

“And I get what out of this?”

“Me? Temporarily, that is.”

Jaehyun laughs in amusement and you drop your smile, almost offended. If you were a gift, you’d certainly be an attractive, spicy, hot one—he doesn’t have to look at you so incredulously. In a neat business suit, Jaehyun is as kempt as ever though his tie could do with some more work. As an HR assistant, his appearance pleases you. However as a person, the perfection annoys the hell out of you. He could show himself to be more human. It would make your job (both the actual and the metaphorical) easier.

“I’m leaving,” he announces with a nonchalant exhale. “You keep messing around during work hours like this and people are going to think you’re jobless.”

“Wait!”

You jog up to him and block his path, crossing your arms as you huff at his indignance.

“I said no,” he repeats, and when he tries to evade you, you push him back with your palm flat against his chest. Jaehyun doesn’t show any more discomfort than usual, biting the inside of his cheek.

“You haven’t found your soulmate, right?” you say, taking a deep breath. If you have to resort to psychological warfare, so be it.

His smile wavers and he straightens, no longer leaning against the printer desk. “No. How does that matter?”

“It matters because you’re going to be my pretend-soulmate. Now, don’t be a pussy.”

He opens his mouth and closes it, furrowing his eyebrows. “You can’t always trick me into doing what you want.”

“I’ll ask Doyoung if you say no.”

“See—enough with the tricks, they don’t work anymore. I’ve known you for two years.”

“I really will ask him.”

“Not convincing enough. You don’t even talk to Doyoung outside work.”

You groan into your hand, taking a few moments to come up with another plan. How is your obvious charisma not enough? You certainly can’t tell him how rejected you feel with the whole Dongmin situation even if his rejection hasn’t officially come yet. It’s too embarrassing for a grown adult to go through. You don’t mind being lonely for the rest of your life if you’re successful. There’s a price tag on each decision you make anyway.

“I’ll treat you to lunch every day. I’ll pay.”

You cross your arms, tapping your foot in anticipation. They say the way to a man’s heart is through the stomach. Besides, Jaehyun hates spending his lunch money on himself. This ought to do something.

Jaehyun places his hand in front of his mouth in mock surprise. “Oh no, out of your beloved paycheck? That’s kind of scary, honestly.”

“Jaehyun. Stop messing around. I’m being serious.”

He purses his lips, hesitation across his face. You don’t like the way he thinks, with quiet, lost eyes and no clear giveaways on his lips.

“Okay. I’ll do it.”

You smile in relief though you try somewhat to not let it show on your face.

“On one condition.”

Your eyes dart across his face, nothing that tells what he might suggest next. You hate when you don’t get to decide on things.

“You have to come visit my family next month and pose as my soulmate—”

“No way.”

“—and when this whole game you’re playing is over, you’re going to say I rejected you.”

You stare at him, weighing the odds.

“Fine,” you say finally, voice pitched in slight annoyance.

Jaehyun shrugs.

“But I tell my parents that I rejected you. Or they’ll come after you with a task force or something.”

You mutter the last part.

He grimaces, holding his breath for a good few seconds and then letting it go.

“Alright. It’s not like mine and your parents know each other—or will ever meet.”

“Fine then,” you say. “We have an agreement.”

“We have an agreement,” he repeats.

Now, back to more pressing matters. The people in front of you aren’t a stupid lot—even if you've seen Doyoung spend $500 on plush toys, seen Sicheng absentmindedly walk into a desk and pretend to not be in pain for the next five minutes and Soojin somehow convinced a senior to get her coffee because she thought he was an intern (in her defence, it worked).

The only way is to act through. You clear your throat.

"We… we discovered it last week. Our signs match."

Technically, you drew an arrow with a permanent marker over Jaehyun's tattoo in an attempt to resemble yours. It's not awful, but perhaps not perfect.

“Discovered? Like just happened to find out?” Doyoung asks.

“Isn’t Jaehyun’s on…” Soojin leans in to whisper hurriedly in your ear. “On his butt? Did you guys sleep together?”

You contort your face in disgust. “The what? What? Who told you that? And no.”

Soojin makes an ‘ah’ sound and leans back. “I should stop listening to office rumours then.”

"You should." You glare at her.

Sicheng is the only one without questions at the tip of his tongue but the look on his face worries you most.

“I’ve never seen your tattoo, now that I think about it,” he muses, turning to Jaehyun. “Although we’re roommates.”

Jaehyun clears his throat, looking around with shifty eyes. "Why is… why is everyone looking so suspicious?"

"It's just… so sudden," Soojin says, looking around at the others.

"Yeah," Sicheng mutters.

"Soulmate fraud is a big deal too, you know that right?" Doyoung informs. "You could get put in jail."

You throw up your hands in exasperation. "Why would we pretend? We don't have any reason to. And, uh, you're sure about the jail thing?"

You look at Doyoung, hoping your question didn’t come off too squeaky.

"You’re right,” he says, sighing. “It’s so unlikely for soulmates to work in the same company, let alone the same building.”

“Oh, yes, I’m so lucky,” you mutter under your breath.

Doyoung sighs. "Look, we're happy for you. It's just that… it's a little sudden."

"Literally what I just said," Soojin says.

"Literally what she just said," Doyoung agrees quickly, not wanting to pick a fight. Sometimes you wonder who the real boss is.

"Look, just because we don't even acknowledge each other or find each other remotely attractive or wouldn't even be each other's office Christmas card candidate—"

Jaehyun nudges your side with his elbow and gives you a look that seems a lot like "You're making it worse".

You clear your throat. "That's what happens to most soulmates! You think you're going to land the perfect one and boom. You get a chump from marketing."

Jaehyun makes a sound of protest. "I didn't want a snob from HR either."

The two of you glare at each other, and you find that clenching his jaw makes Jaehyun slightly (around 0.05%) more attractive, or at the very least more bearable to look at.

Doyoung gasps. "Okay, I get it. You're having adjustment issues. I know a guy for that. He's helped every newly found soulmate couple adjust with each other."

"We don't need that," you interrupt, offering your fakest smile.

"You do," Doyoung responds, his smile equally fake. "I'll drive you this weekend if you're free. He’ll give you one free session. No more, because we all know how capitalism works."

People have got to stop copying your fake smile. You wish you could have it copyrighted because after all, it’s the same smile that tricks interviewees into thinking they got the job. It’s not evil if you say it isn’t. You open your mouth, look at Jaehyun doing the same and when you can't come up with an excuse, give up and nod.

"Don't look so resentful," Doyoung says, tone slightly complaining. "I'm not doing this as your boss. We were friends in college and I'm just doing you a favour. A friendly favour."

Soojin hums in deep thought. "I feel like this is some sort of nepotism."

"I feel like you should open a dictionary once in a while," Doyoung mutters, only to get a vaguely threatening look from Soojin.

"Anyway," Sicheng diverts, eyes curious when he turns to Doyoung. "Why did you call us here?"

"Ah." Doyoung's eyes widen. "I heard promotion rumours."

Sicheng lets out a loud huff of annoyance. "You summoned us here for company gossip?"

Doyoung crosses his arms. “So, you’re not interested?”

“Who said that?” Sicheng responds quickly, leaning in.

The five of you huddle closer in a circle, looking as conspicuous as a cult.

“You guys know that Jinyoung’s leaving, right?” Doyoung starts.

Soojin gasps audibly only to get a smack on the arm from Doyoung. “Why’s he leaving? He's like employee of the month every month. ”

A few chuckles pass through the group at her discontentment from months of losing out on the title.

“I heard he found his soulmate. Lucky ass gets tax benefits too now,” Sicheng complains. “Why is he leaving?”

“Oh, look who’s interested in gossip now,” Soojin coos.

Sichengs turns red in the face and looks away, clearing his throat. “You’re gonna answer my question, Doyoung?”

“Oh! Right.” Doyoung looks up from a text. “He got rejected by his soulmate.”

Soojin covers her mouth this time when she gasps and you can’t say your jaw doesn’t drop as well.

“Rejected? Like our picture-perfect Jinyoung got rejected?” you repeat, trying to process the information. “Please don’t tell me he decided to be an idiot and sign a mutual rejection.”

“No, he didn’t lose his senses,” Doyoung responds with a duh undertone. “He’s getting the compensation money.”

You sigh. “Man, I feel bad for him.”

Jaehyun hums in agreement. There’s a hush over the group and you feel fear rise in your chest. You don’t want to be rejected. You’ve seen how happy Dongmin looks with his girlfriend—he’d reject you in a heartbeat. Of course, you could just receive the compensation money from the one-sided rejection and get it over with but you refuse to. It hurts to not be wanted. It hurts to not be wanted by someone who’s supposed to want you. To be specific, it hurts your pride. Every time you see the damn arrowed heart on Dongmin’s wrist, which he tries so hard to cover with his watch, you feel like throwing up. You’re glad yours isn’t as easy to spot—resting right above your hip bone.

“Anyway, someone’s getting promoted to that HR specialist position.”

You gasp. “Is it me? It’s me, right?”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes and you elbow him. “What’s with you?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he says, shrugging. “Isn’t it stupid to get your hopes up over a rumour?”

Doyoung breathes out. “Wow, (name) really sucked the life out of you, Jaehyun.”

You glare at him when Soojin breaks into a fit of laughter. “You- you know what that- you know what that sounds like, right?”

Your face contorts into disgust and you shake your head. “Let’s be more professional, alright, Soojin?”

She clears her throat and straightens her clothes, like a teenager being reprimanded. “I’m your senior. It’s embarrassing when you say that to me.”

Jaehyun speaks up and turns to you. “I think lunch break is almost over.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So?”

“You’re forgetting something.” He smiles, dimples showing, but his eyes come off menacing.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You forgot about that stupid lunch promise.

“Hey. Professional,” Soojin warns.

You groan and link your arm through Jaehyun’s, making him bite back a smile. What is it with men and getting weirdly happy about lunch?

“We’re gonna go get lunch,” you announce.

“Ooh, (name)’s ditching quality time with coworkers for dates now,” Soojin coos.

You roll your eyes and exit the office, stopping to wait in front of the elevator.

“I think that went well,” Jaehyun says, shrugging lightly.

“Shh. What if they hear us?”

“Do you think they’re X-men? We’re a long corridor and closed doors away.”

You huff, crossing your arms. “Still…”

Jaehyun’s smug smile makes you want to smack it right off and this isn’t the first time you’ve felt this way with him. You swear he’s not as bad as some of the guys you’ve met but Jaehyun is simply annoying. An A grade nuisance. You can trust him though. If Soojin says he’s a reliable guy, you’ll believe her—she doesn’t bluff when it comes to seeing right through men, though she does have a tendency to believe stupid rumours.

“Your acting was shit though,” you snipe.

Jaehyun lets out a low sardonic laugh. “At least I was subtle when I was messing up.”

You cross your arms and huff. “You know what? You can take the next elevator ride.”

“Huh?”

You step into the elevator just as the doors open and quickly jam your finger to the close doors button. The look of betrayal on Jaehyun’s face is subtle but it’s enough to satisfy you. As the saying goes, when one door closes, another one opens—it’s very applicable to elevators. He can take the other one.

However, almost immediately after, the elevator doors open and you groan, opening your mouth to send a sarcastic congratulations to Jaehyun for pressing the button on time.

Your words hitch on your tongue. Dongmin greets the two of you with a smile, standing beside Jaehyun, who has his eyes averted from you.

“Hey,” Dongmin greets. “Congratulations. I heard the news.”

“Thanks,” you croak, clearing your throat with a bit of heat on your cheeks. Jaehyun looks like he might burst into a fit of laughter any moment and you shoot him a subtle glare.

“Where are you headed to?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m going to grab a sandwich from the cafeteria.”

“We’re also headed to the cafeteria,” Jaehyun declares, with a smile that’s almost devilish.

“No, we’re not,” you say quickly, making Dongmin raise an eyebrow. You hold back a groan. If only Dongmin weren’t raised to be the politest man you know and a little bit more of an asshole.

You hum and turn to Jaehyun. “I told you about that new cafe. Remember, honey?”

Dongmin makes an ‘o’ with his mouth. “Nicknames, already? Ah, I’m so jealous. It must be great to get along with your soulmate.”

Oh, the sweet summer child that Dongmin is.

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “Oh, won’t it take too long, darling? We have—”

He makes a show of checking his Rolex, a gift he received from his superior that he spares no chance to flex.

“—Around ten minutes left.”

You hold back a groan and plaster on your smile. “Come on. Now is the best time.”

“That sounds like a load of—”

You elbow Jaehyun hard in the gut and a restrained sound dies in his throat, eyes widening in the sweet look of discomfort taking over his features. You smile triumphantly and turn to Dongmin with an immediate change of expression.

“I’ll see you in office later,” you say, bowing slightly.

Dongmin nods and gets off on the fifth floor. You watch in quiet relief as the elevator door closes and turn to your dear companion, irked.

“Did you have to do that?” Jaehyun asks, voice raspy with pain.

“You deserved it. Don’t you dare make this a bigger mess than it already is.”

“You came up with it.” Jaehyun straightens, finally. Apart from the few loose strands of his neatly parted hair, he doesn’t seem all that disgruntled.

“And we’re going to set some ground rules,” you declare, closing your arms.

Jaehyun straightens to his full height, the space between the two of you diminishing.

"Okay," he agrees. "Then we both get a say in it. It's a contract, after all."

"Fine. First rule, no being weird around Dongmin."

Jaehyun chuckles. "I think you need to be more careful about that than I do."

You pat his cheek. "Focus. Just don't- don't be around him for too long."

Jaehyun purses his lips. "Why are you so uncomfortable around him? I thought you were doing this because you didn't want to reject him."

You glance away, feeling uncomfortable. "It doesn't matter. I just don't want him to know."

Jaehyun hums. "Fine. My turn. No calling me a chump."

Your cheeks puff up as you try to contain your laughter. "It bothered you that much, huh?"

Jaehyun furrows his brows. "No one's ever called me that before. It's always 'oh my god, he's so handsome, who is he?' or 'ooh, I might faint from how hot he is'."

You giggle. "Alright, handsome."

Jaehyun exhales, his puffed cheeks making him look like a resentful five year old instead of a grown man with a professional job. You pause before you get back on track.

“No nicknames,” you blurt. “It’s weird when you call me something endearing. And your flirting feels kind of threatening.”

“What do you mean, baby?”

“See! You’re doing it again.” You cross your arms at the look on his face; anything close to victorious over Jaehyun’s features is unbearable to you.

He raises his arms in exasperation. “How are we supposed to make this work if we act like we don’t care about each other. Guess why Doyoung’s taking us to couple therapy?”

You huff, slightly pissed off. “You’re saying it was my fault?”

“I’m saying we could have avoided that with better acting.”

“You think you’re so—”

The elevator door opens with a ding on the first floor and you turn to find a bunch of interns back from their lunch break. It would be much less of an awkward affair if you and Jaehyun weren’t well into each other’s personal spaces, noses almost touching and with a mutual glare which could be easily mistaken for a look of something more sensual. You jump away from Jaehyun and leave the elevator as fast as you can, feeling far too conscious of yourself. With long strides, you exit the corporate airs of the building to a sunny, fairly populous sidewalk.

Jaehyun catches up to you, bending and trying to catch a glimpse of your face with an incredulous smile over his.

“Don’t say a word, Yoonoh.”

“Ooh, you’re saying my name now.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“I find it plenty funny.”

“That’s because of your trash sense of humour.”

“Mhm.”

“Don’t look so smug.”

Mondays are the days that make you want to scream in agony, not Thursdays—though they are pretty high up on the worst days of the week list. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe pretending to be in love with someone you simply cannot be in love with is an awful idea.

Soulmates don’t need to be in love with each other, you think to yourself. There’s plenty of soulmates who are just in it for the financial benefits; you can just pretend to be one of them. This dilemma is starting to fray your nerves and Jung Yoonoh, with his lax disposition and dimpled cheeks, is making it worse. And to top it off, you now have to take him to your favourite (kind of secret) cafe in the name of the lies that slipped your tongue. It was supposed to be a quiet comfort spot for you.

You blow a puff of air out and dismiss the thought. Comfort spots aren’t real anyway when you’re all grown. There’s bound to be a breach.

However, you will not let the (lacking) romance department of your life get sorted out by someone who doesn’t even know you. Lady luck would be an acquaintance to you at most. If fate is a game of chance after all, you might as well be the one spinning the roulette. You look at Jaehyun, piecing together the perfect plan for this seemingly frivolous play-pretend. The game is in your hands now.

You blink at the figure of Jung Yoonoh under February sunlight on a modestly busy sidewalk. It’s not something to be surprised at—however, the stark contrast in attire makes you stare longer than you intend to. Wearing a black graphic hoodie and pair of worn out jeans, Jaehyun looks about as casual as you can bear. It’s always weird to see coworkers out of formal clothing.

“Are you just going to stare at me till Doyoung comes and picks us up?” he asks.

You roll your eyes.

“You look nice,” he says, and you glance down at your outfit with a flush of heat over your cheeks. It’s just a short A-line skirt, stockings and a sweatshirt. This is as basic as you get. What’s worse is that his comment didn’t sound sarcastic.

“You- You look nice too. I guess.” Once in a while, you will say something extremely stupid and pretend it never happened. The frequency increases around Jaehyun for some damn reason.

“You guess? I’m pretty sure I look more than nice.”

“And how long did you look at yourself in the mirror and practise catchphrases this time?”

Jaehyun’s ears turn the shade of cherries and you press down your smile. You knew that time you caught him talking to himself in front of a car window would play to your advantage.

“What’s that you’re holding?” you ask, eyeing the plastic bag he’s holding.

“Ginseng,” he answers, staring blankly at the cars passing by. “I heard the couples therapist is in his sixties so he might find it useful.”

“Oh, old people stuff,” you muse quietly. “That’s quite thoughtful of you.”

You should’ve brought something, you think for a moment before realizing that couples probably don’t give separate gifts.

“Thanks,” you mutter.

He raises an eyebrow. “For what?”

You shake your head. “Anyway, we might as well kill some time. Twenty questions. Let’s go.”

He laughs. “What are we, in college?”

You wrinkle your nose. “Don’t make us sound like we’re thirty. I bet you’re the kind of guy who has his retirement plan figured out.”

“Wrong,” he emphasizes, face leaning closer.

“Fine. I’ll start the questions, you unsalted block of butter. How many relationships have you been in?”

Jaehyun opens his mouth and closes it, ears turning red. “That’s your first question?”

You roll your eyes. “Okay. I’m guessing it’s single digit and on the lower side.”

He rolls his eyes. “How many relationships have you been in?”

You shut your mouth. There’s a moment of silence, a breeze passing you by, carrying winter away in its arms to make room for spring.

“Never found a relationship worth it,” you mutter, glancing away.

Jaehyun hesitates before opening his mouth. “Me neither.”

“Good thing for us, eh? Love makes people crazy.”

Jaehyun faces you with a clipped smile. Never did you think Jaehyun from marketing would be relating to you on a personal matter.

“Oh, but I’ve had enough hookups and I can bet you’re mediocre at best in bed.”

Jaehyun glares at you. “I am not and I can prove it to you.”

“Is that an invitation into your bed? No, thanks.”

He opens his mouth to retort but is interrupted by the Hyundai Grandeur pulling up to the sidewalk and rolling down the driver window to reveal Doyoung. He looks as overworked as usual, but his eyes are more tired, a bit of makeup covering the dark circles. You’ve heard his soulmate is a makeup artist for an idol group and wonder how they even came to be. Does fate throw darts randomly and pick its choice?

“Get in. Quick,” Doyoung instructs. “I have to drop you off and head home. My family is visiting. I didn’t even get a warning and they think I’m in a gay relationship with Taeyong because we still have our friendship rings from college.”

You want to laugh and agree but Doyoung looks rather pissed off so you hold it in. The two of you do as told, getting in the backseat and shutting the doors in sync. The car smells rather leafy mingling with the scent of fresh clothes and you eye the jar dangling from the rear-view mirror. You open your mouth to ask what scent that is when Doyoung’s voice rings out.

“What’s that?” Doyoung signals to the bag with Jaehyun.

Jaehyun looks down. “Ginseng extract.”

“Oh, the gift pack?” Doyoung asks.

Jaehyun nods and Doyoung chuckles, shaking his head. “If that’s for Mr. Lee, forget it. He hates gifts. Something about inward appreciation and shit.”

Jaehyun groans, massaging his forehead. “What do I do with this then? Is this guy a priest?”

“Give it to Doyoung,” you suggest. “His family’s visiting.”

You hear an audible hum of approval from the driver seat and turn to Jaehyun making a face of reluctance. Maybe he isn’t so magnanimous after all, you think smiling.

“You’re both quite tame today,” Doyoung remarks, just when the silence is starting to swallow the inside of the car. “Makes me wonder if you need Mr. Lee after all.”

“We actually don’t…” You shake your head. “We’re here and it’s free so why not?”

Jaehyun shoots you a questioning look. It’s not like you can cancel when you’re in Doyoung’s car and already on the way. You’ve known your boss long enough to know the wrong answer to his questions. You look outside at Seoul streets and sigh.

Jaehyun looks at you, your focus elsewhere and wishes this would end already. He has no idea what overcame him to accept your ridiculous offer but he must be just as ridiculous. At the very least, he finds you quite lovely to look at—not that he’d ever admit it to you. The foundation to this weird bickering friendship (if he can call it that) would be ruined by that. His ego, however, has been boosted up a few notches from the fact that you called him for help. He looks outside the window, holding back a smile. It’s a sunny day.

The therapist, Mr. Lee’s office building is a fancy one with an even fancier lobby. Baby pink leather couches cushion your bum nicely as you wait for your appointment. The architecture is that of a corporate firm and you feel quite at home with the large glass walls by the revolving door. This therapist guy must be rich as hell. The receptionist wears a formal uniform; her blouse is light pink with a grey pencil skirt and you like the look of it. You wonder if asking her where she bought it is time-appropriate. More couples sit around you and you, unfortunately, have to scoot closer to Jaehyun as a result. You do not want to catch that disease they all have. Why are they even here for therapy if they’re smiling at each other in that sickly enamored way?

Now that you’re here, you’re starting to feel that this arrangement was ill-decisive. You should’ve done a better job of acting. You wonder if you can get a refund for that college course on acting, pouting as the ticking wall clock gets on your nerves. Even the marble floors are pink; the walls are mahogany red and there’s a heart-shaped wall clock, and should you glance around more, you’re going to nauseate yourself. This guy certainly takes his job seriously—or just really likes pink-red themes.

A woman in her early thirties exits the elevator and announces your names, and you click your tongue at the fact that she used Jung for your surname. It sounds distasteful.

You follow her, starting to get nervous. You really hope this Mr. Lee isn’t as good as Doyoung says he is. Your fraud falling apart within three days is too embarrassing a defeat, not to mention bordering on illegal if found out. What the fuck does the government care about broken hearts and beneficial relationships? It’s so nosy. You understand the financial situation in case of happily bonded soulmates but apart from that, there really shouldn’t be this much discrepancy in the name of love.

Love drives people crazy. You’d rather not lose your good sense in the name of something so inane. After all, money makes the world go around, not love.

Restricting a gag at the deep red heart on the door, you push them open with Jaehyun to find an old man sitting on a similar baby pink couch as in the lobby. He gets up to greet the two of you, the wrinkles on his face deepening when he smiles. Despite everything, he has a sort of grace to him, the one that comes with growing old elegantly. An upbeat song plays on a record player attached to the wall, although at a very low volume, and the tune reminds you of Animal Crossing.

“Doyoung told me about the two of you,” Mr. Lee says, gesturing at the two of you to sit down. “How long has it been since you found out?”

“Six days,” you answer at the same time Jaehyun answers, “Four days”.

The two of you look at each other.

“Four-Six days. We didn’t keep track.”

“Ah,” Mr. Lee says. “How do you propose to celebrate your anniversary?”

You hesitate opening your mouth and declaring that you don’t really need to do that crap. Mr. Lee notices your expression and breaks into gentle laughter.

“I’m kidding. Anniversary dates don’t matter,” he laughs. “It’s okay to celebrate your 100-day on the wrong day. Don’t worry.”

You purse your lips. To your dismay, Jaehyun isn’t as bothered by the sickly pink environment and Mr. Lee’s relaxed demeanour.

“I have a hundred percent success rate,” Mr. Lee assures the two of you, looking directly at you.

“That’s what I’m worried about,” you mutter under your breath and get a nudge from Jaehyun, who has his politest smile on.

You can’t believe Jaehyun has a better customer service mode than you do. If you didn’t know him, you’d be fooled into thinking he’s the nice guy character every office has. Unfortunately, that one goes to Dongmin. You hate getting stuck with nice guys (unless they offer financial stability).

“I think Doyoung might have been exaggerating,” Jaehyun explains calmly. “Whatever he told you.”

“He told me the two of you have a bickering problem. And staring at each other when the other isn’t looking.”

You cough. “That is not true. The staring part.”

Jaehyun narrows his eyes at you. “I knew you were checking me out,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes. “Keep dreaming, Jaehyun.”

Mr. Lee laughs. “Your bickering seems to be quite affectionate. I don’t know what that boy was worried about.”

You press your lips together into a thin smile, annoyed that anyone would ever describe your interaction with a man as affectionate. It makes you feel like an idiot. You were always better off alone—the universe was wrong to assign Dongmin to you. Maybe you needed to see the apparent love of your life clearly in love with someone else to snap you to reality.

“However, what is a playful lover’s fight in the beginning can turn into real fights.”

“Right,” you mutter. “It’s all fun and games in the beginning.”

“The two of you have almost no animosity—you’ve known each other before you discovered the soulmark, right?”

The two of you nod, having already reconciled yourselves to this session. It’s a one-time thing, you tell yourself. It will be over soon.

“The soulmate information shouldn’t influence the relationship you already had. If anything, it should be drawing you closer. First time awkwardness is common.”

He’s starting to sound a lot like your high school sex ed teacher. You get the idea to pretend to be sick and get out of this early.

“Company policy too,” Jaehyun mutters. “Unofficial company policy makes office romance out to be some sort of sacrilege.”

“You know, I was the CEO of your company so I do know the policies,” Mr. Lee says, smiling in the confident, reserved way senior citizens offering wisdom do.

You choke on the water you were taking a sip of, a coughing fit overcoming you and Jaehyun hesitates before awkwardly patting your back.

“Huh? CEO? I’m sorry?” you manage.

Mr. Lee lets out a loud, hearty laugh. “I stepped down two years ago.”

“That’s when I joined,” you and Jaehyun say at the same time.

Mr. Lee smiles at the two of you wordlessly. “I have an idea for the two of you. Why don’t you try turning your ‘I’s into ‘we’s? Do some activities together and when you talk about it, you’ll find yourself much closer.”

You narrow your eyes. “You know, Mr. Lee, I’m a little curious about your relation with the company—”

“My recommendations won’t help you get promotions faster.”

“Dammit.”

Jaehyun chuckles beside you but a glare from you turns it into a suppressed smile. The one thing that wouldn’t be a waste of time opened its door and closed it right back.

“But you know how promotions work,” you press, leaning forward.

An alarm rings, so pleasant in tone that you know it’s a Samsung. Unfortunately, it’s the ugly flip model and you question Mr. Lee’s taste (and wealth).

“Oh, look, time’s up,” Mr. Lee announces, and you think you catch a hint of nervousness in his voice.

Jaehyun springs up before his ears turn red, embarrassed by the gusto with which he himself got up and looks at you expectantly. You get up, sighing.

“Next time, Mr. Lee,” you warn. “I will get those details.”

“I charge by the hour.” He smiles.

“Stop threatening the therapist,” Jaehyun mutters to you, taking your arm and turning to leave.

“Oh, and,” Mr. Lee calls. “It’s always better to be honest than to pretend.”

You blink in surprise when Jaehyun tugs at your arm, bowing in thanks and leaving the room with you.

“Was it just me or did he see through us?” you whisper to Jaehyun.

He shakes his head, whispering back, “There’s no way he could tell. He’s probably referring to something else.”

“Like what?”

Jaehyun doesn’t answer.

“Tell me, are you always so domineering towards strangers even?” he asks. “I just thought you liked to press my buttons because I’m easygoing.”

You scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not as cool as you think you are, especially since you get so hot and bothered by me.”

“It’s just you,” he whispers earnestly and your pulse rises. “No one else.”

You cough to kill the awkward silence and walk faster to the elevator. Jaehyun follows at a leisurely pace and it’s never occurred to you before but the sound of someone’s footsteps can also be annoying, proof currently standing beside you.

The elevator doors open, and much to your appallment, a young couple happens to be full blown making out inside the elevator, hands where there certainly shouldn’t be in broad daylight. Jaehyun whips his face away, clearing his throat loud enough for the couple to detach themselves from each other and hurriedly exit, fixing their clothes on the way.

“So he wasn’t lying about the success rate,” Jaehyun states quietly, a look of resigned horror on his face.

You can’t even respond for a few moments, following him into the elevator and shaking your head to get rid of the thought that inevitably jams itself inside your head. It might have a point, however.

"Maybe we should kiss too," you think out loud.

Jaehyun stiffens, looking at you with wide, fearful eyes. "No."

"We have to kiss, we're dating!" You exclaim, hands on your hips.

"We're not actually—ah, whatever. It’s not worth bickering with you."

"Why? Afraid you'll fall in love with me?”

Jaehyun shakes his head, and you’re suddenly aware that your bickering keeps drawing you closer to each other, your faces nearer than you’d realized.

"If anything," he starts with a confident smile. "You better not fall in love with me."

"Oh, please. You're taking this way too seriously."

"You're the one that wants to kiss me."

Your cheeks heat up. "You're- I- That's not—argh, fuck you."

Jaehyun looks smug, and you have the unstoppable urge to punch it off his face. You take a deep breath. Violence is not the way, (name).

“If we were a few years younger, you’d be begging for mercy under me,” you seethe.

Jaehyun’s eyes shift over your face in confusion, ears burning bright red with each passing second. Before he can open his mouth, you let out a short yell.

“Not like that, you pervert,” you say, leaning away from him.

“I didn’t even say anything. On an unrelated note, were you a delinquent in school?”

You roll your eyes. “Kind of. I had a temper and a sharp tongue.”

��And now you’re a people pleaser. That’s quite the development.”

You smack his shoulder. “You’re getting on my nerves, punk.”

He makes an ‘oh’ with his mouth before smiling. “You totally did the delinquent accent.”

“I’m guessing you were the shy, little boy who flushed red at conversations about kissing.”

Jaehyun clears his throat in annoyance. “I was not. I was quite popular in high school and college, you know?”

“Yeah,” you mutter. “It’s that face of yours.”

“Sorry, what? I didn’t catch that.”

“Oh, look, we’re on the first floor.” You exit the elevator, leaving a puzzled Jaehyun to follow in stumbling steps.

“I don’t think Doyoung’s picking us up,” you state. “You take the bus? Or do you have a car to flex? I don’t ride in anything below a Tesla, unless it’s Doyoung because he’s technically my boss.”

“You’ll have to do with good old rented Hyundais,” he answers.

You exhale. Maybe he’s getting used to you. The bus stop is opposite the building, the structure squeaky clean and a bunch of people waiting on the seats. It’s a busy place and you wonder if the scammy-therapist-slash-your-former-ceo’s business has anything to do with that. You sit the first chance you get, shoulders pressed against Jaehyun’s for the lack of space and admiring the passing traffic. Seoul really just depends on the lenses you see through. Work days make the screen tinted grey and blue and you hate them often but some days, it’s good to experience those. Weekends are brighter, sunny and usually not with Jaehyun but he doesn’t really put a damper on them either.

You scan his side profile, a little envious when you realize that his confidence isn’t misplaced. You might have trained yourself to be more of a pleaser over the years but he’s the sort of person people come to like naturally. Moreover, his skin is perfect and his hair is always looking styled even in a mess. Fate and Life are partners in crime when it comes to being unfair.

Jaehyun turns to look at you and you snap your head to your lap, turning on your phone and staring at the homescreen for a good few seconds.

“Twenty questions,” Jaehyun announces. “Let’s play again. I’ll go first. Do you check me out when I walk away?”

“What is this, playing my own cards against me?” You scoff. “You’re so full of yourself.”

“So, yes or no?”

“Sometimes,” you mutter. “But it’s not the good kind of checking out. I’m checking out how terrible you look with your mess of a tie.”

Jaehyun laughs, the sound a hearty rumbling sort and you can’t help but smile back at that. It’s kind of cute when he laughs—the sound of it and the way his cheeks are dusted pink.

“My turn,” you say with a cheeky smile as you lean in to whisper. “Have you ever had a wet dream about me?”

Jaehyun chokes on air, coughing out the surprise as he stares at you dumfound. You stick the tip of your tongue out and throw him a wink, thoroughly enjoying this victory against him. It feels great to fluster someone like Jaehyun.

“No,” he says with clear emphasis.

“Even the night you said I was so unbearably hot very loudly to Sicheng?”

Jaehyun leans back sighing, covering his face with his hand. “I was tipsy. And it was my first night out with coworkers. Give me a break.”

You giggle. “Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. There were worse incidents that night. An intern threw up on Doyoung’s shoes—I can’t even imagine the horror the poor girl experienced.”

Jaehyun shakes his head, smiling through his hand.

“Have you ever sent nudes?” you ask, wiggling your eyebrows.

He sighs. “Maybe. Have you?”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know?”

He curls his lips. The answer seems to be no but you’re at least seventy percent sure he would be attracted to you in a world where your personality traits weren’t being nosy and annoying.

“Do you think you’re a good kisser?” Jaehyun asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“Definitely.”

He scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You cross your arms.

He shrugs, leaning in slightly as though flirting (if he had the audacity). “We could test that.”

You feel your cheeks heat up. “What happened to no kissing in the contract?”

“It’s not officially there.”

You roll your eyes, glancing away. “You know, I’m starting to believe you were some sort of desperate fuckboy in college.”

“I- I was the hottest dude on campus and if we went to the same college, you would be pining after me. I literally had the Campus Prince title and girls would follow me to see me in class.”

He crosses his arms, a frown tugging down his lips.

“Ooh, Jung Yoonoh’s getting fired up,” you say in a monotonous voice. “Wonder how many girls you pulled with your chewed up fuckboy dialogue.”

Jaehyun scoffs but he clearly finds your accusations amusing, as hinted by his unbothered smile. He asks a question again.

“What’s more important to you—truth or happiness?”

The question catches you off-guard. Jaehyun’s eyes are delicately curious, nothing too strong and even so, you find yourself holding your breath under his gaze.

“Huh?”

“Twenty questions. We were playing?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

“Right.” You clear your throat, rubbing the back of your hand. “I… I’d choose happiness, I think. I’m… I’m not sure.”

“Really?” He doesn’t look too hellbent on taking apart your answer so you breathe out. He’s starting to pry into you finally. “I think the truth will make you happier.”

“That’s not- that’s not always true.” You look away, hoping the quietness of your voice ends the conversation there. You don’t know how to talk about it—you never really have. You’ve ugly cried over the lack of your love life to a stranger after five shots of whiskey but you don’t think you can talk about things like this sober. You don’t even know why you answered. Jaehyun makes you feel oddly comfortable.

Jaehyun shrugs, getting up when the next bus halts in front.

“What did you major in?” you ask, following him.

“Business,” he answers before thinking. “Kind of hated it. But I started out with IT and that was somehow worse.”

You gasp, taking a seat beside him on the bus. “I started with IT too! It was a nightmare. You took that Database Management course?”

Jaehyun smiles. “It was like the course equivalent of reading the back of a Wi-Fi Router.”

You laugh. Maybe he isn’t so different after all.

“You know, you do look like a business major,” you hum, furrowing your brows as you pretend to scrutinise him.

“So, you’re indirectly saying I either look like a rich kid or a jackass.” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

“They’re both the same thing.”

The laughter from the two of you makes an old woman behind you grunt in displeasure and the two of you apologize. It’s nice to talk like college kids again. The Seoul sunlight shines on Jaehyun’s face and you bite back a smile when his dimples appear. They aren’t all that bad. If you get along like this, there’s no reason to worry about fate and the universe and other superfluous things offered to you on a boring old ceramic plate. It’s a smooth ride.

Your eyes drift to Dongmin’s workspace instinctively and you shake your head. This is exactly why you were avoiding him and even started the entire fake relationship with Jaehyun. You’d choose fake dating a (good-looking) chump from management over embarrassment and possible heartbreak any day.

You groan internally before glancing again and find the desk empty. Surprised, you blink and turn only to scream at Dongmin’s figure behind you.

“Shh!” he says urgently. “Don’t move. And don’t panic when I say this but there’s a bug on your shoulder.”

“What the fuck? Get it off, please,” you say, voice choking up.

Dongmin rolls up a stack of papers and you let out a low screech. “Don’t kill it on my shoulder!”

“Sorry,” he says and your eyes soften as he gently pushes the paper against your shoulder and takes it away. You breathe a sigh of relief and he signs you a thumbs up as he wiggles the paper in the air outside the window.

“You saved me,” you say, smiling.

He returns it, his most beloved eye smile making you wonder if you made the right choice. Wouldn’t it be fun to just crash everything and watch it burn? You know you want to. Benevolence and grace were never your style. However, it’s his smile again that stops you. Maybe you don’t really want to be the bad guy after all. You’re sparing him from confusion and dread.

You’re sparing yourself from rejection and inevitable loneliness (yay).

It’s been a week, discussing details with Jaehyun before the both of you collectively decided to just wing it and hope you’re not caught. After all, there’s no real way to prove you’re not soulmates if you’re careful enough (the same way you can’t prove someone’s cheating if they’re careful enough but that’s quite a depressing analogy). Perhaps if you renounce the soulmate benefits (and Dongmin didn’t smile as often at you), it would be less morally taxing. You, however, are greedy. When you want something, you’ll do anything to get it.

You stare at the computer screen and sigh, cross checking the employee records for incorrect data and your eyelids start to droop. Of all the days, you just had to be assigned the most boring task on a Friday. You also should’ve gotten sleep instead of getting mad at Jaehyun’s dry responses to your plan of action. It was perfectly viable; unnecessary, but perfect nonetheless.

Soojin rolls her chair backwards into yours. “We’re going drinking tonight. Wanna come? You can bring your boy-toy too.”

You roll your eyes. “As much as I’d love to call him that, he’s still the chump from marketing for me.”

“Or,” Soojin emphasizes. “Your actual soulmate. How lucky is it that you work in the same building, in the same company?”

“I’m not sure if you’re being ironic.” You scroll through the database with trained eyes.

“I’m not. A lot of soulmates don’t even get to see each other because of their line of work. It’s so tragic.”

You’d be glad if you didn’t get to see Dongmin ever too. But you’ll keep that to yourself. You hum in response and hear a sigh from behind you.

“Let’s have fun,” she whines. “Is Jaehyun that much of a downer? He’s one of the hottest dudes in the building. I thought you’d be cheery.”

You pause and think to yourself. She does have a point. You’re definitely supposed to look happier. Your soulmate has the looks of a model and fifteen year old you would fawn over him no doubt.

“It’s the work,” you answer. “I’m working overtime to compensate for my rent.”

You work overtime anyway because you hate heading home to an empty apartment.

“Ah, you signed a new lease, right? Near Songpa?” Soojin looks at you with pity and pats your shoulder. “You know what? I’ll treat you to drinks tonight. You deserve a day off, missy.”

You smile. “Thanks, Soojin.”

“And,” she adds in a singsong voice. “The love of your life is here.”

You furrow your eyebrows before tilting your head and almost sighing in exasperation at the figure of Jung Yoonoh outside the glass door. He may not show it, but you know distress when you see it. You’ve seen enough squirming undergraduates at company interviews.

You quickly get up from your seat, praying that he didn’t mess something up. However, you find it cute when he looks like this, the urge to fluster him even more presenting itself to be rather tempting.

“I think you have a sick obsession with me, Jaehyun.” You cross your arms after closing the door behind you.

He exhales, closing his eyes for a moment before taking your arm and pulling you away from the door.

“Woah, this isn’t high school. You can’t just pull me into a corner to make out.”

Jaehyun’s ears flare hot red and he clears his throat. “You’re in high spirits today.”

You weren’t, actually. Somehow, teasing Jaehyun gives you the same rush as caffeine. You just love when the nonchalance on his face turns into discomposure.

“I came to give Doyoung these files. Or you, since you’re practically his assistant.”

You ignore his comment. “There’s clearly something else.”

“The team sports event is coming up,” Jaehyun starts, hesitating. “I’m not managing it this year. I have to participate.”

“So?”

“So Dongmin has a higher chance of finding us out. What if he sees my mark in the changing room and it all goes to shit?”

“Great! He’ll think you’re his soulmate and I’ll be spared from this nonsense.”

“I’m being serious. It’s already difficult living with Sicheng and having to change with my doors locked. It’s kind of suspicious.”

“Do you guys sleep naked with each other or what?”

“No, but I do sleep with my shirt off.”

“Ugh. Why would you give me that image?” you complain. The image isn’t bad per se but it’s not what you need right now.

“You clearly liked it,” he mutters.

You furrow your eyebrows. “You’re not doing this just to give me a load of unnecessary anxiety, are you? Do you know how swamped with work I am?”

“No, of course not,” he answers, no indication of which question he answered. “Also, is there a reason Soojin’s glaring at me?”

You wave your hand in dismissal. “It’s just the haven’t-warmed-up-to-coworker’s-new-boyfriend glare. Don’t worry about it.”

He doesn’t seem too relieved but you have more anxious thoughts invading the privacy of your Friday evening. You have to keep up your composure. It could happen one way or another, perhaps in a situation better than a team sports activity, but you have to figure it out. You reject your soulmate anyway—the same way he would.

Glaring at Jaehyun one last time, you get back to your desk. Jaehyun looks at your receding figure and finds himself checking you out, the largest blow he’s taken to his dignity. He shakes his head, breathing in and out. This is so not like him. He’s supposed to be the suave, handsome guy who people can’t seem to get to and yet—yet, you do it so easily. It’s unfair. He swallows his heart and tells himself he’s too old to feel this way. He’ll just drown himself in work and pretend love is a commodity like everyone else with a corporate job is supposed to.

“You know,” Soojin starts when you get back. “Jaehyun kind of looks high if you look at him long enough. Weed is illegal though but who knows? Maybe he’s a bad boy deep down after all.”

“Which rumour have you been paying attention to now?” You sigh deeply.

Soojin laughs. “It’s funny to hear everyone’s opinions. Even if most of them turn into scandalous tall tales.”

“Anyway,” she continues. “I’m clocking out. I’ll get Jaehyun to take you to the sake bar.”

You look at her, puzzled.

“You’re a matching set now,” she follows up and you groan.

“Don’t give me that cr—”

“Toodle-oo! Let’s have some fun before we’re grey and old, eh?”

You sigh and nod. Maybe you should look into a caffeine fix, even if it costs you a mental power outage at the end of the rush. It’s not like you to be so down on a Friday but alas, Fate is as miserable a woman as you are. The sake bar is starting to sound good.

Or, you could always watch a few ASMR cooking videos instead of staring blankly at the employee records. Either way, this Friday better improve by tonight.

“This is going great,” Soojin says, louder than she probably intended after her fourth shot.

“Of course it is,” you mutter.

You haven’t yet had a chance to drink more because of two reasons: one) Soojin is hogging the alcohol and two) it would be embarrassing to get drunk in front of Jaehyun. Adding to your misery, Soojin has been gushing over her soulmate and the way she always makes breakfast for Soojin, listing off every single recipe she’s made. You would love to listen but you’re a tiny bit past your limit.

“Wooh, Jaehyun, you look hot,” Soojin whistles, in more of an older sister manner. “I can almost see your tattoo. Why don’t the two of you show us at the same time and we can take a commemorative picture?”

You cough loudly. “Mine’s on my waist, Soojin. I’m not ready to expose skin.”

“Right. Sorry.” She turns back at lightning speed to bother Dongmin with her stories, who smiles at her politely. It seems so genuine that you’re slightly enamored with it for a moment. There’s Jungwoo from marketing beside him, some more HR employees and thankfully, no interns. Doyoung is the only one partly miserable in the lot, talking into the phone for half an hour now.

“Shit.” Jaehyun nudges you and whispers, “I forgot about the tattoo. This T-shirt makes it very visible.”

You look at him, alarmed. You fix his jacket, startling him, and pull the zipper all the way to his neck, making sure to backhand him on the chin.

“There.”

“It’s hot in here.”

“What do you want me to do about it? God, you’re like a child.”

“I’m like a—okay. Just cover my tattoo with foundation or something.”

“You think I carry around a whole bottle of foundation?”

Jaehyun blinks, deeming it safer to keep his mouth shut.

“Okay. Fine. I have an idea. Come to the washroom with me.”

“Oh my, this isn’t your making out in the corner type of thing, right?”

You glare at him and he shuts up, following you quietly to the surprisingly clean restroom. The fact that it isn’t gendered makes you very glad. You make Jaehyun sit on the low enough basin counter and push your knee against it to balance yourself as you take out a permanent marker from your bag.

“I hope Doyoung doesn’t fire me for sneaking away,” you mutter angrily. “He didn’t even make me receive his calls all day.”

Jaehyun scoffs lightly. “Please, Doyoung adores you and your work ethic. He talks about it more than what I need to overhear. That and Taeyong’s detailed aquarium maintenance rules.”

“He does?”

Jaehyun clears his throat and you hold back bombing him with more questions till you’re done with painting an arrow into his tattoo.

“Isn’t it weird?” He looks at you with round, curious eyes. “Yours is a heart. Mine’s a pierced heart.”

“Hm. Funny coincidence.”

“Do you have to sit on my lap for this?”

“I’m not sitting on your lap,” you hiss. You are kind of close. You train your eyes on his collarbone as you pull his neckline down.

It would be so embarrassing to be caught like this. You’d rather be caught making out with someone in the broom closet. You hold back a pained sigh. Jaehyun has some nerve speaking to you when you’re already annoyed with him. Couldn’t he just have worn his business attire? Why does he get to go home early? Taeyong is far too lenient a boss. You start swearing internally, getting nervous when you think about the consequences of your actions.

“Has anyone ever filed a complaint against you?” Jaehyun asks, and you nudge his chin upwards to draw the line on his tattoo.

“For what? Being perfect and successful?”

“For that attitude. The ‘take what I want’ attitude.”

You roll your eyes. “No. You’re saying it like I’m awful to the core for trying to take what I want. I haven’t got such a bad soul, you know, as souls go. You wouldn't write articles about how good a soul it is but… it’s well enough.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow and you avert your gaze from his eyes. This sort of proximity shouldn’t be bothering you, you shouldn’t be rambling.

The door opens right then and in a fit of panic, you do the unthinkable. You press your lips to Jaehyun’s and pray that whoever walked in has no idea who you are and more importantly, can’t see the permanent marker in your hand.

“I’m so sorry!”

You know that voice. You half regret it when you hear it. Dongmin exits the bathroom as quickly as he entered and you pull away to look at the empty space. Beside you, Jaehyun stays so still that you forget he’s there for a moment. You breathe out in relief though part of you still feels a heavy ounce of regret.

You turn back to Jaehyun and find his doe eyes soft and lost in thought.

“I get it now,” Jaehyun whispers. “It must hurt. That he doesn’t care about the system.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That he’s so reckless about discarding you.”

You separate yourself from him further, standing up and brushing your clothes. “You’re overstepping.”

“Sorry,” he responds quietly.

There’s a pause.

“Did you just kiss me right now?”

“Shut up. I didn’t want him to see us and especially this.” You wave the marker in front of his face.

“You just kissed me in a fit of panic. That’s the first time I’ve seen someone respond to panic this way.” Jaehyun looks a little too smug.

“What are you implying?”

“You wanted to kiss me.”

You scoff. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”

You want to knock the smile right off his face but you stick to flicking his forehead, his yell of surprise satisfying. This Friday night was supposed to get better. In fact, you are going to make it better if life won’t. The soju won’t drink itself and you deem that Soojin has had enough.

Ignoring Dongmin’s confused look, you order far too many soju shots to be considered healthy. As you promised yourself, you are going to make this Friday better.

You just had to go and get drunk. Jaehyun stares at you, blinking slowly and wondering just how much you can embarrass yourself before it becomes a burden for him. He has to get you home; you’re practically a matching set now. But are the halves of a pair supposed to take care of the other when they get drunk?

“You know what, guys?” You announce, standing up abruptly and immediately getting pulled back to your seat by Jaehyun. It doesn’t stop your mouth however.

“I hate the stupid system,” you continue. “To tell the truth—”

He smacks his hand over your mouth. Jaehyun has had enough of the silent mini heart attacks you give him. The rest look at him with puzzled looks and he can’t even bring himself to give them a polite smile before dragging you out of the bar. The night breeze is cold enough—maybe it’ll sober you up.

"You're so annoying, Jaehyun," you mutter, massaging your forehead. "Did you know that?"

Or maybe it won’t.

"Never heard that before."

"How do you always keep to yourself and still be the center of attention?" You cling to his arm for balance.

"Have you considered that maybe a polite man isn't as scheming as you think he is?"

You curl your lips. "Stop using big sentences. I hate that I barely know you, and I know everyone."

Jaehyun purses his lips. "You just enjoy the power that comes with figuring people out. Don't you?"

"Whatever you say. I want life to be a nice and smooth ride but then again, I can't even face my soulmate." You let out an airy laugh. "I didn't really need one though."

Jaehyun laughs in disbelief. "You look like you're dying of loneliness."

"Ooh, that's a big claim, Yoonoh."

"You say I keep to myself but what about you? You like hiding, don't you?"

You laugh. "Is this the part where I say we're nothing alike?"

He purses his lips, shaking his head in dismissal. He's just tired of chit-chat with someone who smells like she robbed a liquor store in Itaewon.

“You must think I’m some sort of selfish, vapid, work-obsessed overachiever,” you continue, tilting your head with a blank look in your eyes.

“Well, not exac—”

“But guess what? Your opinions are invalid, Jung Yoonoh. You’re just some chump from marketing. A very good-looking chump but still.”

Jaehyun swears under his breath as you fling your arms open in the same manner a speech-giving patriot fighting for freedom would. Unfortunately, the freedom struggle is private in this day and age, and you just smacked him in the nose instead.

You sigh deeply and he looks at you again, warily now as he holds his nose.

“You’re not exactly wrong either. I’m so empty. Like a bottle of soju with no soju. Could you bring me some?”

Jaehyun massages his temples and solidifies his resolve. He’s had enough stares from people on the sidewalk. With delicate concern, he holds you up with one arm around your waist, balancing your weight evenly so you can stand. Promptly, you bury your face into his neck and an embarrassing, high-pitched squeak evades the filter of his mouth. You’re just so adept at making his days (and nights) worse.

Jaehyun tries his best to carry you to the parking lot without any signs of struggle but good lord, are you uncooperative. Once he’s down lugging you to the passenger seat, he breathes out in relief at long last and makes sure you don’t fold in over yourself dozing off the seat. Getting you to sit up, he finds himself smiling the slightest bit at your smudged lipstick. Even like this, you’re quite pretty.

Realizing what thought came over him, he shakes his head vigorously as if he’s committing a horrible crime. He just has to get you home—Soojin had texted him the address prior to the outing just in case—and then he can go back to pretending whatever he even is supposed to.

The sports event is really just HR and Management trying to one-up the other in a more quantitative way. You’re not really fond of the sweat and heavy breathing that comes with physical exertion if it’s for the sake of competition. Competition is such a childish, masculine way of handling things, especially emotions.

HR is leading in wins, however and that means you have something to rub in Jaehyun’s face. You hate participating but you’re not allowed to opt out without a medical certificate. At least one competition, and you had to choose the three-legged race. All these potential partners, and Dongmin had to choose you.

“I’ll win,” you tell Jaehyun, stopping by him once you exit the changing room. The indoor stadium is usually a recreational facility for senior employees but on sports day, it’s closer to a gladiator arena. The seats are green and occupied by grinning employees, most of them glad for a day off but also upset they don’t get to attend their personal affairs in it.

Jaehyun stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Shouldn’t it be a ‘we’? You need a partner. Oh, are you sad you can’t pick me?”

“Not at all.” You cross your arms, annoyed at his mock pity.

Right then, Dongmin jogs up to you in a blue tracksuit. His hair sticks to his forehead because unlike you, he takes sports very seriously. Jaehyun, on the other hand, just seems to enjoy the competition. As a guilty pleasure, you’d like to see the two of them compete one day. That would be a competition worth betting on.

“I’ll have to borrow your soulmate.” Dongmin laughs. “The race is starting.”

Life strikes again with its poorly timed irony.

“Don’t mind me,” Jaehyun says politely.

The race is easier than you thought it would be considering most of the other employees struggle with teamwork. You’re the HR team for a reason. But then again, you feel a certain hollowness pervade you while you’re pressed to Dongmin’s side. Wouldn’t it be nice?

All you can think is that Dongmin and you are perfectly in sync. The realization comes off as sad despite your victory and the wide grins on both of your faces.

Jaehyun purses his lips and gives the two of you a nonchalant look. He’s avoided getting caught in the changing room quite well. For some reason, he’s glad that you’re winning but also dissatisfied about it. He would certainly feel different if he were participating in that race, wouldn’t he? He would win. Losing a competition is a huge blow to his ego. Lately, he seems to be losing a lot of races. The two of you have been growing closer and he doesn’t mind late night discussions about flawed systems and childhood memories; but the fact that you’re growing on him is something for him to be on edge about. He’s never felt so close to someone, and still so far.

“Oh, they have good chemistry, don’t they?” Doyoung comments beside Jaehyun, before taking a sip from his bottle.

“What chemistry?” Jaehyun snaps and Doyoung almost chokes on the water.

“Chill out, man.” Doyoung eyes Jaehyun’s figure in concern. “She’s like officially yours.”

Jaehyun refuses in a series of sputtering responses. “That’s not what I meant. I’m not jealous. I’m not that kind of man.”

“I didn’t paint you as that kind of man either,” Doyoung mutters before speaking up. “But love, Jaehyun. Love’s a weird thing.”

Jaehyunn ignores his comment and walks down to the grounds, jogging up to you. He immediately forgets to say anything at all. Smooth move, Yoonoh.

You just stick out your tongue at him subtly.

“I told you we’d win,” you say.

Jaehyun crosses his arms. “Congratulations. I thought you, quote, hate this stupid competition for dunces.”

You clear your throat and Dongmin laughs beside you. Before he can offer his bottle, Jaehyun offers his own in a rush. You raise an eyebrow but don’t question it.

“You guys really are a perfect pair.” Dongmin laughs. “Sometimes I wish Mijoo was my soulmate.”

You give him a pitiful smile. There go your happy feelings of victory.

“But I’m happy this way.” Dongmin nudges your shoulder with his. “Don’t give me that look.”

That is not the look he thinks you were giving. You smile.

“What about this? We can go on a double date! Those are fun, right?” Dongmin muses, crossing his arms.

“No,” you and Jaehyun refuse in a panic, and Dongmin blinks in confusion at the overwhelming response.

“I'm more of a homebody,” you explain.

“Yeah, me too,” Jaehyun agrees.

It makes Dongmin laugh aloud. “Oh, fate didn’t go wrong with the two of you.”

Your smile wavers. Did it go so wrong with you and Dongmin? Jaehyun’s hand brushes yours and you look at him. A perfect side profile and flushed hot cheeks with dimples to die for. You wouldn’t mind being in love with him. You don’t mind love much at all.

Shaking off the thought, you watch as Dongmin leaves the two of you to run to the changing rooms. Eyeing Jaehyun’s red team sweatshirt with “Management” in big typography over the chest, you look back up to his face.

“Why did you jog over here so desperately?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “Jealous?”

“Yes. I am irreparably in love with you.”

He leans in quickly and you flinch, making his dimples show up.

“Asshole,” you curse. “I’ll file you for harassment. Don’t do that again.”

“Isn’t it harassment when you feel me up while you draw—” Jaehyun leans in to whisper. “—the soulmark?”

“I would never have my hands near your greasy existence if I could,” you huff, scandalized.

But the thing is, Jaehyun is getting better at this game of flustering each other and you don’t like it one bit.

“Hey, you know Dongmin’s girlfriend?” he asks suddenly.

You nod. “Kind of. I’ve seen her pictures on Instagram.”

Jaehyun pauses before humming in realization.

You cough. “Not that I was stalking them or something. Obviously.”

Jaehyun gives you a knowing smile but doesn’t question anything, much to your aggravation. It would’ve been better if you had a chance to prove you weren’t stalking them but then again, that is exactly what you were doing.

“Well, we went to the same college. Same major too.”

“Are you serious? Wait, how do you know? Does this mean you stalked their Instagram too?”

“Too?”

“Shut up.”

There’s a beat of silence.

“She’s not exactly the evil homewrecker type,” he says.

“I know that,” you snap. If anything, you feel like the evil homewrecker even if Dongmin’s supposed to be your soulmate.

They’re so reckless. Jaehyun was right—you do blame them in a way. They don’t care who they trample under their nauseating parade of romance. But then again, that parade is better than a personal rejection.

“I’m just saying… don't hold it against them.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice, Jung Yoonoh.”

Jaehyun shrugs, dropping the issue. The preparations for the next race is starting and it has something to do with passing balls from basket to basket—you get bored already when you see Doyoung stretch before shaking hands with Taeyong.

“Wanna get ice-cream? We funded the food truck this year.” Jaehyun looks expectantly at you.

“Sure.”

You contemplate holding his hand for a moment but let that thought bury itself. You don’t have to pretend right now.

Much to your despair (or delight) however, Jaehyun takes your hand absentmindedly as he walks towards the exit. It’s not that you’ve never held hands before, it’s just that Jaehyun’s skin is soft against yours.

“I can’t believe you and Mijoo were in the same course.”

It seems she’s ahead of you in every direction you look to tread on. Of course, you will not be telling Jaehyun that. You don’t exactly feel jealousy—can’t feel jealousy when your life is perfect as it is. And for Jaehyun? You hate to admit it but you’d trade places with Mijoo any day.

“Well, she didn’t really like socializing back then so I didn’t know we were in the same program either.”

You chuckle, glancing down at your intertwined fingers despite your best efforts. It feels nice like this. It feels nice to be wanted by someone—even if it’s a lie.

“Do you think- Do you think they’re brave?” You ask. “They didn’t even hesitate to disregard the system.”

“I think people in love are always brave.”

You hum, looking down at your feet. All the more reason the system fucked up. You were never even supposed to be partnered up. You’re not brave—the face you put on is. The idea of love seems to get further and further away from you.

Just then, Jaehyun tugs at your hand, walking slightly faster and making you complain as you jog to catch up with his long strides. The food truck is fairly large, on the street outside to the stadium entrance. February is catching up with its heat and you curse at global warming for this hot winter day.

“You can take up to five scoops of different flavours,” he informs you, grinning sheepishly. “I guess the cups aren’t large enough for beyond that.”

“I didn’t know you were this passionate about ice-cream,” you say.

“Sicheng rubbed off on me.”

You laugh. IT must have given Sicheng enough stress to develop a sweet tooth. You love the HR Department when you look at the others in your company.

Jaehyun has a nice smile. You don’t know why you think that but you do and now you can’t focus on anything apart from the pink dust sprinkled over his cheeks and the handsome dimples that accompany. You don’t want to stare but clearly, Jaehyun must have been blessed by some divide being if not for fate. Maybe he’s a mess up like you. As far as you know, his soulmate doesn’t exist. That little red heart is so simple that none of the soulmate designs match it.

A rather repulsing part of you is happy about it. You like the feel of Jaehyun’s hands. You like the way he looks at you. You wouldn’t mind it if he were yours.

Jaehyun’s house is as cosy as his mother makes you feel. It’s been a while since you’ve been home and if you were perhaps less emotionally constipated, you would have tears welling up in your eyes. There’s quite a few relatives too but then again, every Asian family jumps at the chance to celebrate something as mediocre as engagements and marriage and soulmate findings. Apparently, hormones are perfectly fine to them once you’re not teenagers anymore.

This isn’t so bad. What was so scary about meeting parents again? Jaehyun’s dad did challenge you with a questionnaire but lucky for you, you know exactly how interviews work. You’ve got enough information on Jaehyun from the man himself for this visit. The briefing he gave you was boring though; you already know what you need to know about Jaehyun.

You sit at the table, while most of the other guests work in the kitchen. Jaehyun’s mother asks you questions about your life, friendly and welcoming in every way possible. Mothers are truly god-sent. You wonder how she produced someone as far from divine as Jaehyun. (Except in looks, perhaps.)

You say that out loud and get a sharp quip from Jaehyun, his mother’s eyes lighting up at your childish interaction.

“Oh my, fate is never wrong!” She remarks with a wide smile. “I’ve never seen Jaehyun open up so much with anyone before. He was such a shy boy in school, you know? All the girls would send letters and confessions and he would just turn red in the face.”

“Mom.” He smiles all too sweet at her but you can see the panic in his eyes.

She rolls her eyes before turning to you. “Darling, you have no idea how proud I feel to see him this at ease. I was honestly getting tired of all the ‘your son is so polite and well-mannered’ comments. Some bickering ought to do him good.”

“Mom,” he repeats, straightening. “I think auntie needs some help setting up the table.”

“Don’t shoo me away yet. I have to tell (name) about the time you were elected class representative in middle school. And all those sports and acting awards.”

“You don’t have to advertise me, Mom,” he says, dropping his face into his hands to rub at his eyes, already growing tired. “I’m already- I’m already hers.”

His mother coos and apart from the expected deep red flush on Jaehyun’s skin, you find yourself feeling hot in the face too. Jaehyun’s aunt calls for his mother right then and you watch as she makes her way to the kitchen entrance, the two women glancing at you and giggling to each other over some shared words.

Jaehyun takes the opportunity to grab your hand and walk away to a more obscure part of the house upstairs. With significantly less relatives, it should be a good hiding spot unless discovered by his giggling cousins that he refuses to introduce you to.

“Aw, what a shy baby,” you coo, smiling at the thought of a younger, easily-flustered Jaehyun.

His ears are bright red and you think that he’s still easily flustered. He just doesn’t show it much anymore—there’s only one dead giveaway.

“Forget everything my mom said,” he instructs. “It’s not important information.”

“Oh, no, darling. Your mother is a gold mine of vital information. You know what? I’m going to go chat her up right now. I’m sure you were quite the teenage dream I should know about.”

Jaehyun grips your wrist before you can escape, pulling your closer.

“Don’t.”

You don’t know if it’s the proximity or the fact that there are most definitely a few family members that could walk in right now—but you find yourself embarrassed as you look at his face. It’s very pleasant, handsome even, and the strands of his hair look irresistibly soft from this distance. You reach your hand out and brush the hair out of his eyes, almost instinctively.

“You have nice eyes, Jaehyun,” you say out loud, not sure why. He doesn’t fluster this time but it makes you all the more aware of your nearness.

Your eyes glance at the bottom of the staircase to see a little girl, around nine, hiding from behind the wall that separates the dining room and the kitchen. You return your gaze to Jaehyun with a smirk.

"We should kiss right now. Your little cousin's watching."

Jaehyun looks mildly disgusted. "Why would I want to kiss you in front of my cousin?"

You roll your eyes. “You don't get it, do you? The fastest way to convince a family is through rumours.”

Jaehyun raises an eyebrow. "So?"

"Oh my god, you're an idiot. Nosy cousins are the most effective way to spread rumours."

"Ah." Jaehyun looks enlightened enough for you to continue.

"Okay, but first you need to have these mints." You take out the emergency mints from your purse.

"What? I don't need mints. I have nice smelling breath.”

"Everyone needs mints, Jaehyun. Especially men."

Jaehyun sighs heavily. You take the opportunity to grab his wrist and pull him into a corner.

"Have this mint or else."

You hold his face between your thumb and forefingers, cheeks squishing under the pressure as you force a mint in. He lets you do it for some reason, looking lost as he gazes at you.

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh my, you're enjoying this. Pervert."

"Wha—what? You have to stop thinking you're hot shit, oh my god. I just got distracted for a bit."

"By me, right?"

"No! I just zoned ou—you're enjoying this."

You bite down your smile but a giggle escapes you anyway. Jaehyun rolls his eyes though he smiles, looking far too close to irresistible when his dimples show.

"You can't keep teasing me," he says, voice low.

"I've been doing it for two years. I'm pretty sure I can do it for at least two more."

Jaehyun scoffs, laughing at your statement. "You know what? I'm going to get back at you from now on. I've been so lenient."

You snort before pressing the back of your fingers to your nose. "You? You're going to get back at me? You’re good at lip service, Jaehyun."

“Huh. You might be right about that.”

There's a beat of silence and you look at him expectantly. In the next beat of your heart (or lack thereof), he cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours, surprising the life out of you as your back hits the wall. It's not just a touch either, his mouth moves over yours and when your knees feel weak, you reluctantly admit that the rumour about Jung Yoonoh being a good kisser is true. Maybe his body count isn't a lower-end single digit after all.

He pulls apart with a short smile tugging at his lips. "Satisfied?"

You sputter out a response before clearing your throat. “I- I don’t think anyone really saw us in this corner.”

Jaehyun makes a low humming sound. “Or you could just say you want me to kiss you again? I know I’m a good kisser.”

“Fuck off.” You punch his chest, eliciting a quiet grunt from him.

You move away from him, peeking from behind the wall. Oh, she saw it alright. The giggling gives it away and the fact that a few more younger cousins have gathered. This is ridiculous. The fact that you wouldn’t mind more is even worse.

You turn back to Jaehyun with steel-set eyes. “No more kissing. Ever. Never again. Kissing is officially banned.”

Jaehyun looks perplexed. “I thought that was a good kiss. Did you not enjoy it? What do you mean no kissing?”

“And I take it back.” The heat on your face is still burning steadily.

“Oh, I see. You liked it so much that you’re embarrassed.”

“You’re such a pain in the ass.”

“So I’m right?”

You roll your eyes and quickly walk down the stairs, a few words of complaint left hanging in the air as Jaehyun follows behind, stumbling over the steps.

Jaehyun likes how comfortable this is. He doesn’t mind glaring daggers at each other but this is fun too. It’s like he doesn’t have to be careful about the lines he might be crossing—there aren’t any damn lines at all. He can’t call it love, at least not by definition, but something is there. Something that is solid enough and heavy enough. Something he would be ready to hold on to.

You laugh at a joke Jaehyun’s dad makes. A family is the only place to feel at home. It might not be yours but maybe at the end of the night, you can convince them to disown Jaehyun and adopt you as their child instead. His cousins seem to be interested in the same things you were as a high schooler and it surprised you. Your job lets you advise the older cousins in a fairly friendly fashion. The little ones seem to like your dress and you find them far too adorable with their pink cheeks and dimples, much like Jaehyun’s. Speaking of which, he definitely got them from his dad. You look around and wonder how Jaehyun has so many female cousins and not an inkling about how women work.

It doesn’t hurt anymore that Dongmin discarded you so recklessly.

He’s wrong. Jaehyun’s wrong. It doesn’t hurt—didn’t hurt right now at the very least. When Jaehyun kissed you, you didn’t think of Dongmin or his girlfriend or anyone else. You thought that Jaehyun’s skin is somehow always the right temperature.

You shake your head. Jaehyun drives your getaway car and you shouldn’t get too comfortable in its worn-out leather seats. This shouldn’t be any different to you; you aren’t supposed to find love in every corner. This was all a survival instinct.

The more stories Jaehyun’s mother shares with you over dinner, the more you find it comfortable to be here. You don’t feel this welcome in your own apartment (although, there isn’t exactly anyone else living there but you and the goddamn pigeon that wakes you up at six in the morning). The more the night progresses, the more you want to believe in this lie. Jaehyun glances at you from time to time, his gaze neither uncomfortable nor harsh and you smile at him when he does. Right now, there is no loneliness and the air is warm and smells of freshly cooked food; the way familial love works is such a mystery. You feel content.

“Why are we doing this again?” you lean in and ask Jaehyun, eyes focused on the TV as he tries to fix it.

“Because I need to get out of work, and fulfilled soulmates get a day off on Valentine’s day.”

You nod. “Your apartment kind of stinks. I feel sorry for Sicheng.”

“This is clean,” he defends, pointing at the lack of any visible mess in his room. His work table, however, has too many items scattered over it to be called neat. There’s a fairly large TV attached to the wall and you’re a little jealous about it. You only ever watch shows on your (quite beloved albeit small) laptop. The blinds aren’t fully closed, the evening city lights trying their best to pry their pervasive fingers in and add something more to the peach hue of Jaehyun’s room.

The doorbell rings just in estimated time for food delivery, a sigh leaving your mouth along with a ‘finally’. His place is strangely comfortable and much less of the war zone that you expected. There’s no reason to feel awkward, really, or even the bubbling in your stomach. You’re not seventeen, in your crush’s house. Jaehyun isn’t even someone you like that way.

It’s just two friends hanging out and watching a movie and doing other friendly activities. Two friends hanging out on Valentine's day. Two friends who have kissed more than once.

What do lovers do anyway?

This thing with Jaehyun has turned into clandestine smiles at the office building, subtle texts of ‘did you eat?’ and ‘good morning, idiot’, racing hearts at brushing hands on the occasional off-work hangouts (you refuse to call them “dates”) and overall, a lot more pink hearts floating over his head when you see him. It’s positively appalling.

You don’t mind it one bit.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” The delivery man wishes as he leaves and you feel a sudden rage bubble up in you.

“Ah, does he think every couple celebrates Valentine’s day? And just because we’re in the same apartment means we’re a couple? Wow.” You cross your arms, scoffing. “Who’s he to wish me?”

“Why… Why are you getting mad?” Jaehyun asks quietly, slightly confused.

You glare at him, your anger not quite dissipated and walk back into his room, placing the box of confectionaries on the bedside table with a loud thud. Jaehyun follows, placing the drinks rather clumsily beside it. He gives you one last look of concern before settling down on his bed.

You let out another huff of complaint.

"Does everything have to be heart-shaped?"

You stare at the nauseating display of baked goods delivered in a pretty heart-shaped box. The brownie is in a clear plastic box that has a tiny bouquet of hearts atop it, the coffee cups have heart stickers around the rim, and the pastry itself is heart-shaped or rather, two halves of a heart. One of them is strawberry pink and the other chocolate brown.

“You seem… suddenly fired up,” Jaehyun comments quietly.

You don’t really care if you look crazy to him right now; he’s already seen the worse parts of you. You’re just so annoyed at all this red and pink that was delivered. Aren’t cafes supposed to stick with that beige-cream palette?

While you contemplate, Jaehyun tears the little sugar packet and attempts to open the lid of the cup at the same time, your blood pressure rising at the sight because you were half sure he’d spill the drink. After much difficulty, he shakes the packet trying to get just enough sugar but of course, like the clumsy oaf he is, he misses almost entirely, spilling sugar over his coffee table. It’s oddly endearing but that’s a thought you’ll keep to yourself.

He turns to you with a sheepish grin and you give him a look of distaste.

“You are a sorry excuse of a person, Jaehyun.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t mess this up.”

You turn to look him in the eyes, the honey shade alluring under warm apartment lights. They really are pretty.

“I, and every other sane human being, would not mess up adding sugar to a cup of coffee.”

“You faltered for a moment there.”

That was not the reason you faltered. You roll your eyes and look away, taking a sip of your drink and sighing at the taste.

“How do you even like Americanos? Don’t you like a bit of cream and sweetness?”

“I don’t really care for bitterness,” he answers.

“Wow, you must be a masochist.”

“And it’s quite obvious you’re a sadist.”

You snicker. “That makes us quite the pair.”

“I would like that sentence in a non-BDSM context, thank you.”

Jaehyun turns on the TV and the Netflix logo animation pops up. You raise an eyebrow at his ‘Continue Watching’ list, eyeing Bridegerton and Sweet Home, and wondering if he could be any more of an enigma. You can’t possibly figure him out at this point. You groan when he picks a title.

“Ugh. Do we have to watch a romantic comedy?”

“What? They’re funny. And I thought you liked those 2000’s movies.”

You believed in unicorns and sock goblins and love back then too. These days, you hate to see other people in love, especially when it’s fake. The movies you loved are now the movies you hate. The couples you eyed with delight at parks and cafes are now the bane of your existence. In fact, you’d go as far as to say that you enjoy the digital fireworks from a couple having a massive online breakup. Things falling apart are entertaining when it’s not happening to you.

You purse your lips. Can't you see other people happy without wanting to tear it down for yourself?

“Fine. But I’ll pick the 2000’s romcom.”

Jaehyun shrugs and hands over the remote. You see Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds on the poster and click on it immediately. The Proposal has a good enough comedy to romance ratio, in your opinion.

“I’m kind of surprised you came,” he says quietly.

“Why?” You raise an eyebrow. “Is it because of the suggestive nature of visiting someone’s apartment on Valentine’s day? Did you think we’d be doing something… more fun?”

You lean in and bat your eyelashes suggestively, although you’re clearly joking.

“I think you should know better than to get mouthy with me,” he answers as he leans in further, making your heartbeat hike at the proximity. Maybe he’s figured you out. Wouldn’t it be so nice to figure each other out at the same time—like puzzle pieces fitting together?

You move away from him. “Well, it’s not like I can go anywhere else. And I didn’t want to stay in my own apartment.”

“Maybe you enjoy my company?”

“Look, I would be sipping my coffee at a perfectly aesthetic cafe if it weren’t Valentine’s day.”

He raises an eyebrow at your nonsensical declaration and you sigh, trying to explain yourself.

“Cafes just terrorize the single folk on Valentine’s day. You should always go with Netflix,” you say.

“And chill?”

“Do you even know what that means?”

“As I’ve told you so many times, I am not stupid.”

You inhale, an idea presenting itself.

“Hey, since we’re technically a couple, shouldn’t you be sharing your Netflix password with me?” you ask, pressing your lips into your cutest smile.

“No.”

“You’re so stingy,” you mutter. It was worth a shot.

Jaehyun laughs, your hand reaching out to poke his dimples but you stop yourself. You weren’t supposed to get this comfortable. This wasn’t your place to be. Lost in thought, the moving screen leaves you unfazed and you can’t look at him anymore. However, Jaehyun reaches out right then and wipes at the space beside your lips, your focus lifting from the beginning scenes of The Proposal and latching onto Jaehyun’s lips.

There’s a pause, your head clearing itself of thoughts when you make eye contact with him. Soft hair, doe eyes, full lips and dimples—he’s so damn attractive, it hurts your existence. Does he have to be this close to you? You have mixed feelings about that look in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers suddenly.

“Yes,” you answer.

If you look from a rational point of view, you should not have said that. You should have said anything but that. But you don’t want to think right now. Jaehyun’s touch is warm over your skin as his hand rests under your jaw and the other on your waist.

You should not have said that. But you feel loved.

Somewhere along, you find yourself parting only to kiss again, the feeling of skin so delightful in a way you’ve never experienced. Your shirt hikes up and you see Jaehyun eye the little heart with the arrow—the sign you so despised with a gentle smile.

“It’s pretty,” he whispers.

It’s pretty but it isn’t his. He doesn’t have to look at you like that—he’s come a long way from nervous glances and now he’s the one making you nervous. Just say it isn’t love and it will be alright.

You part, sobering up for a moment and you disentangle your limbs to sit at the side of his bed.

“What’s- What’s wrong?” Jaehyun whispers.

You exhale.

“All my life, I wait and when it comes, it’s all wrong,” you say, staring at your lap. Self-pity is the most disgusting kind of pity to feel. You’re past crying at things like this. You’re past crying for an ounce of romance, every time you listen to a love song on the radio or look at an Instagram post of a couple or pass by lovers on the sidewalk content with each other. You don’t even have cats to return home to. Modern loneliness is wearing you down but you can’t believe in fairytales anymore.

He scoffs, smiling bitterly. “I don’t even know if this is worth losing my dignity over.”

“Jaehyun—”

“We can’t pretend anymore—I can’t pretend anymore,” Jaehyun exhales. “I want you enough to forget the system. Give me an answer. Please.”

You don’t mind forgetting the system right now. Jaehyun’s lips are always the right temperature; the warmth of his body seeps through his shirt as you press yourself to him in a hug. He’s perfect and right now, you want to believe he’s perfect for you—even if he isn’t, you want to believe it into existence.

You cup Jaehyun’s cheeks, unsaid emotion in his doe eyes, and kiss him. This time, you mean it with every ounce of your being. There’s no more flustering each other, just the hot flush of intimacy when you feel skin that doesn’t burn you. It’s just the right feeling. There’s no way this can be wrong.

Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? You wish the voice would pipe down. It’s a coward, fearing fate just as everyone else does. But you are better than that, and this feeling is too enjoyable to let go. You don’t want this to fade.

Just then, Dongmin’s face comes to mind and you think that maybe if you kiss someone else with all you have, you don’t have to think of your shortcomings ever again.

Jaehyun pulls apart and you miss the warmth.

“You’re not… You’re not thinking of me, are you?” he asks.

You don’t answer, even if the silence is overwhelming.

“I’d rather not have you close your eyes and think of someone else when I’m in front of you.”

“I’m sorry” is all you can say.

“You can at least pretend to love me.” His voice is a hoarse whisper. “Could. It’s not like this was ever supposed to work out.”

You gulp, looking away. “Jaehyun, come on. That’s not like you. We were- we were just… having fun.”

He takes a deep breath. “It hurts to not be wanted by someone you want. You know that. So why are you doing this to me?”

Because misery likes company.

“I’m sorry.”

It seems the phrase you barely uttered when you were younger is tumbling out of your lips in a mixture of grief and pity. Perhaps it’s karma. Perhaps it’s fate. Perhaps it’s just the consequences of your mistakes.

Jaehyun parts his lips, a sigh departing. He leans in again, pushing away all of his thoughts. A little more hurt won't kill him tonight. How and when did you bring him down to his knees?

However, he's stopped by your hands against his shoulders, his lips hovering over yours.

"Let's stop," you say. "You're right."

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

“I don’t- I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”

You wish you could be brave enough to burn the instruction pamphlet from destiny. But right now, you need to get away from Jaehyun, away from any more misery business.

“I’ll get going,” you say, gathering your stuff.

Jaehyun hesitates but doesn’t stop you. He would never stop you, can’t stop so how could he even dream of stopping fate? This can never work out. It felt right in the moment but you don’t know anything more than that. You can’t close your eyes and pray everything disappears. No one else will solve your problems for you, you know that.

It’s time you start fixing the mess you made. You leave with a polite goodbye and hear a loud sigh behind you once the door is closed. Blinking away the urge to walk back in, you take long and quick strides to the elevator. You’re going to fix this.

Maybe if Lady Gaga’s ‘Poker Face’ wasn’t blasting at full volume at this stupid office party, you could be thinking a little straighter.

He was right. You can’t pretend anymore. There were thousands of ways this could have gone better. You didn’t have to pretend to be soulmates when you’re not. You could’ve discarded your belief in the whole system like Dongmin and Mijoo and dated someone out of spite. You didn’t have to drag Jaehyun into your sorry mess. You need to take out the nail you hammered into your own foot.

It’s the first time you’ve visited the rooftop restaurant from the company’s subsidiary chain of high-end restaurants but you imagined it would be bigger. It’s the news’ fault for making this place seem like a football field. However, you might be feeling that way because the distance between you and Jaehyun is suffocatingly small as is the distance with Dongmin. You don’t need to see Jaehyun tonight.

You don’t intend to make your confession a public affair and you certainly don’t believe in tack things like atonement. However, improvement begins with a step in the right direction. Maybe you’ll be a better person after this. Maybe you’ll still be as annoying and pushy as ever. You need to get it off your chest so you can proceed with the already tedious journey that comes with a soulmate rejection. You wonder why there’s so many man-made laws about soulmates when fate has made it complicated enough as it is. Love is the same as legalese when it comes to this system.

You flit about the crowds, smiling and greeting people and swerving away from Jaehyun every time he tries to approach you. You’re trying to make a good decision for once. He better not intrude. You’re wearing pink too, for the first time in a while: a satin shirt, pants and blazer set in dull pink.

“Dongmin,” you say, pulling him by the sleeve of his blue tux, and away from the rest of the HR team. “I have to show you something.”

“Hm? Show me?” He blinks at you.

You get him to follow you to the inside the premises, stopping when you’re far into a

“Uh?” Dongmin looks around before leaning in to whisper. “You’re not plotting to murder me, are you?”

You blink, and he laughs at you incredulously. “Why are you so serious?”

“I was lying,” you rush. “With Jaehyun. He’s not my soulmate. You are.”

Dongmin blinks in confusion. “Are… you joking? That was a weird joke but it could pass as funny—”

“Dongmin.”

You pull out your shirt from your pants, exposing the tattoo on your hip. It’s the little arrowed heart that has been plaguing you for years but now when you look at it, you feel no animosity. After all, it’s been through the same things you have.

Dongmin’s face falls into stunned silence, eyes fixated on your waist.

“That’s- That’s my—what is this?”

Russian roulette is certainly not the same without a gun.

“I lied, Dongmin,” you answer, fixing your shirt back in. “I was so afraid of your rejection that I made an even larger fool of myself.”

His initial shock seems to have partly subsided.

“You… Why didn’t you tell me?” He looks momentarily hurt.

“You have Mijoo, Dongmin. I can’t ruin something like that.”

A love that doesn’t need fate to fix it.

Dongmin glances away in guilt and sighs, though the sound is croaky. This must be more than what he can take.

“I’m sorry,” he says, haltingly. “I hurt you, didn’t I? When I thought I was being brave, I hurt you instead.”

You smile bitterly. “We all hurt someone, Dongmin. I still have to fix that one for myself.”

He scans your face, lips trembling slightly as unspoken words die on them.

“We’ll tend to the legal stuff later, hm? No compensation. We can file a mutual rejection.”

“But—”

“Shh. I’m happy enough as coworkers and I get paid more than enough for this job. Might get a promotion soon too.”

You wink at him with an added finger gun, trying to play it cool. Despite everything, a weight feels lifted from your shoulders. Now that you are truly alone, you might as well embrace this growing loneliness crawling under your skin. Discomfort could be something you can get used to.

When you get back to the warmly lit rooftop, the HR team looks at you curiously. You have the most self-destructive thought you’ve had in a while and tell yourself, you might as well if you've come this far. This is it. This is your social death. Honesty is the best policy, unfortunately.

“Dongmin and I have the same soulmate mark,” you announce. “We’re soulmates but we’ll sign a mutual rejection.”

Doyoung looks almost like he’ll faint and Soojin’s mouth is so wide open, you could practice throwing some mini basketballs in. This is your team—almost a second family, and it’s time you stop trying to hide yourself or disguise your feelings as something they’re not. They’ll get over it, as will you.

“J-Jaehyun?” Soojin looks to your side and you turn to find Jaehyun frowning.

“You could’ve discussed this with me,” he says, an odd sound of relief in his laugh.

It hurts to look at him but you muster up your strength.

“I’m sorry,” you say, facing him. “I didn’t want to drag you into this hell with me.”

Into this loveless hell made for you.

“(name).”

It’s so painfully quiet in this corner; there are so many eyes on you and only the hurt taking shape in Jaehyun’s eyes knock some sense into you.

“I’ll leave first,” you say, bowing as you take your leave.

You brisk up your pace and exit the venue as quickly as you can and into the building corridor.

Unfortunately for you, you recognize the pair of footsteps that follow you—both of them having their timings wrong. Boys don’t chase after the girl when she’s walking away. Boys should leave a girl alone when she feels like she’s about to cry.

You turn to face two men and groan internally. This is the worst possible situation—you’d rather crawl into a hole than look at either of them. The corporate light shines harshly on either of their faces but the look on them is so earnest, you want to close your eyes and scream. You don’t mind being alone. You were overstepping when you wished you weren’t.

“(name),” Dongmin starts. “I’m sorry it turned out this way. If you’d told me, we could have talked this out.”

A light scoff leaves Jaehyun and Dongmin purses his lips. It’s kind of funny watching both of their tall frames in hesitant postures and you cross your arms. You’re going to deal with this quickly like you always should have. If you’re dealing with fate, you need to have a clear head—and fortune doesn’t favour fools. Being with Jaehyun was nice but he is not yours. Dongmin may have been assigned to you but you’d rather not ruin someone’s relationship.

“What would we have talked about?” you ask. “Compensation charges? Apologies?”

You see a hint of positivity on Jaehyun’s face and turn to face him, frowning.

“And you. Don’t look so smug. You’re the reason I realized this crap. It hurts. Like hell.”

He opens his mouth but no words come when he’s far too taken aback. He can’t offer consolation now, not after everything. You knew this would happen. You would undoubtedly end up wishing you didn’t fall in love with him on the day you leave.

“(name). Listen to me,” Dongmin calls again, voice gentle.

Jaehyun sighs. “We’re both fucking this up, dude.”

Dongmin takes a sharp breath.

“You know, soulmates can be platonic,” he reasons, looking only at you. “People are made for each other differently and maybe you and I—”

“You’re just making her feel worse,” Jaehyun cuts him off.

“How do you know that?” Dongmin asks, finally turning to him. “Because you’ve spent a month or two with her? I’m her soulmate.”

“I think a month or two is much better than a stranger with the same damn birthmark.”

“Oh come on,” Dongmin scoffs. “The system exists for a reason.”

“I don’t give a shit about the system. The same as your girlfriend—oh, sorry, did you forget about her already?”

“It’s not like that.” Dongmin quietens. “We’ll figure something out.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. They’re worse than you are—honestly, you don’t know what you expected from the timid emotional maturity of men. Both of their polite facades have melted and you’re starting to miss their sweet-tempered work demeanour.

“Come with me,” Dongmin tells you.

He wraps his hand around your wrist and tugs, Jaehyun visibly tensing up at the gesture. He presses his tongue against his cheek in annoyance but refrains from doing anything rash. You feel sorry when you look at him.

“Dongmin,” you whisper. “Can we- can we have a moment?”

Dongmin nods in understanding and exits the hallway to cool off with a few splashes of water in the washroom.

“Would you go with him?” Jaehyun asks, jaw clenched. “An acquaintance as most? Are you willing to run into the arms of fate that you hated so much?”

He looks bitter and you can’t think of a sugar-coated response. You’ll just have to tell him how you feel.

“I need to sort things out, Jaehyun. This—”

You point from him to yourself.

“Couldn’t work out thanks to fate. Dongmin and I will never work out because he’s braver than I am. You know he’s doing all of that just so I don’t get hurt, right? He’s not suddenly in love with me.”

Jaehyun purses his lips, looking down to his feet. Is it so bad that he let jealousy get the best of his mouth? Envy isn’t so awful. He looks from your eyes to lips and wishes he were young enough to believe in fairytales.

“You don’t have to be brave,” he whispers. “You don’t have to be so brave to fall in love. You don’t have to be brave to stay with me.”

“We tried, Jaehyun. And we can’t cheat fate. That, at the very least, requires bravery.”

You press your lips into a thin line. It hurts. It hurts so bad to look at him and face the consequences of this flawed design. It’s unfair. It’s unfair that you have to follow the rules even after trying your best to break them.

“You wish you never met me, don’t you?” you whisper. “I made a mess.”

Before he responds, you bow in a short goodbye and walk towards the elevator. There’s no footsteps behind you, no Prince Charming. It’s just you and your high heels clacking against the cold marble as you head back to an empty home. You always thought freedom would feel different, that distance would give you perspective. It just feels awful when no one is around you at all. When you have no one to pick up morning calls from, receive texts from asking if you ate, spend time in peace without uttering a single word—are you free or are you lonely?

The rules state that the two of you are different. It is true. You are as different as love in real life and love in the movies; and neither of them have happy endings now.

You wish you drank some more last night if you were going to embarrass yourself like that. Thankfully, it’s the weekend and you have two more days to figure out how to face your coworkers. You frown when you think of Jaehyun. Were you wrong to tell him that you simply couldn’t choose him? What if fate is right and it falls apart? You stir your morning coffee, the will to drink it fading slowly. It’s already fallen apart—and it wasn’t fate who did that, it was you. Should you have taken his stupidly warm hands and asked him to follow you? You don’t understand how it works at all.

Centuries of questioning what love is, poking and prodding at it like a lab sample, and there’s still no perfect answer. Love is blind. Love is cruel. Love is a fever. Love is temporary insanity. Love is acceptance. Love will set you free. There’s just too many variations. You can never tell if fate is meant to make it easier or worse.

No one questions you at the office and you're not sure if you’re glad or aggravated. Only Doyoung shoots you a pitiful look which you brush off and immediately get into work. Embarrassment is only real if you acknowledge it. However, every time Dongmin tries to talk to you, you ask for space and even alone in your thoughts, you don’t get it. They just have to drift to Jaehyun.

You wonder if what he said was true, that he wanted you enough to forget the system. It’s clearly ruined now. The spiral of thinking has you zoning out during work more often than not and even Doyoung ends up reprimanding you for your lack of focus. Sometimes you want to snap but other times, you’re just hopelessly reciting the events over and over in your head. This was supposed to happen, wasn’t it? You don’t even have the strength left in you to blame it all on Jaehyun.

You pace in the corridors after work, contemplating popping by the Marketing Department. What could go wrong? Sure, it was a little dramatic of you to leave like that but everything can be fixed, right? You groan. What you were supposed to be fixing, you made worse. Are your hands cursed or something? You shake your head, returning to your desk to gather your belongings and head home.

Unfortunately, the sight of Doyoung sitting in your chair alarms you and you stop a foot away.

“If you’re going to reprimand me for watching cat videos instead of checking the employee records, I can assure you my efficiency is still top-notch.”

“You’re—what? Never mind.” Doyoung shakes his head. “Can you give this ginseng pack to Jaehyun? I owe him.”

Oh no. You know where this is going.

“You know I’m going to keep that for myself, right?” You make a face. “I’d rather die than face Jaehyun right now.”

Doyoung shrugs. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll be the one running to you. This is in case of an emergency.”

You give him a fake smile and Doyoung shakes his head. “Good to see you’re still great at pretending to be fine.”

You sigh. “Thanks for looking out for me, bossman.”

Doyoung blinks, hand covering his mouth when an audible gasp leaves him. “Woah. I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you thank me. But don’t call me bossman ever again.”

“Noted,” you say, taking your bag and leaving with a short goodbye. You’re lucky he lets you off work early, even if you never took it. Employees usually can’t leave until their superiors does and if you were a senior employee, you’d be giving your juniors quite the hell.

You seem to be good at concocting hellscapes. Perhaps, you should look for job openings in the underworld. One last thought of Jaehyun exits your head and you take the bus home, admiring the city you live in and the warmth of people and their relationships. You don’t feel jealous; you just bask in them for the time—be it a mother and her son or two bickering sisters or a lovely old couple. That’s how it’s meant to be, then. That’s how love works.

Jaehyun smacks his head against the sofa armrest for the fifteenth time in a row.

“Dude. You’re going to permanently ruin the fabric.” Sicheng says, eyes trained on his laptop screen.

“I should’ve said something more.” Jaehyun’s voice is so zombie-like, he thinks he should cast himself in the Train to Busan sequel as an extra.

“I’m glad I’m not you,” Sicheng mutters.

“Can you give me some sort of consolation, at least?”

“That’s not what I’m your friend for.”

Jaehyun sighs and resumes smacking the back of his head against the armrest. He really needs to figure this out. After all, he can’t really Google the solution to this.

“One thing doesn’t make sense,” Sicheng says, finally looking up from his screen. “Why do you have the same mark as (name)’s if you’re not soulmates?”

“You’re so incredibly—but adorably—stupid, Sicheng. She drew it in with a permanent marker. She kissed me too! It was sudden and weird but I didn’t mind it.

“Yikes.” Sicheng makes a face. “So… you didn’t take a shower for how long now?”

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows. “What?”

“The ink hasn’t washed off. I heard you singing in the shower yesterday, how could you not have washed that off? Ugh. Don’t tell me you miss her.”

Jaehyun’s eyes widen as he jumps up and rushes to the washroom. Looking into the mirror, the tattoo poking out from his T-shirt resembles yours a lot more than his. The arrow is still drawn in. Jaehyun’s shoulder slumps. He doesn’t know what he was expecting. Turning the tap and letting the water flow, he wets his hand and rubs at his collarbone to remove the arrow.

Except it doesn’t budge. His skin turns painfully red from the rubbing but the ink, which usually washes off in less than five minutes has no intention of leaving. Did you use a different brand of marker the last time? When was it anyway?

Jaehyun breathes out, firming his resolve. He needs to be with you.

Sicheng blinks in surprise as Jaehyun grabs his car keys, not even bothering to change from an all-black getup of a T-shirt and jeans like some emo teenager, and shuts the front door behind him. Not even a ‘goodbye, I’m leaving!’

Sicheng sighs. Love makes people crazy. He’s not falling into that trap when his soulmate literally doesn’t exist, the same as his soulmark. It seems the contestants in this game are full of exceptions.

You hit your head against your pillow. To visit Jaehyun or not to. You haven’t left your bed since you woke up around seven in the morning, and now it’s ten. Your bedsheets are a mess because you’ve rolled around too much on them (in despair, not with someone unfortunately).

You need the quiet sometimes to let your mind rest, to let your heart rest. You needed time. But maybe it’s been long enough and now you’re just searching for excuses to hold on to your last shred of dignity.

You lift your head up and glare at the box of ginseng on your table. Should you? You reluctantly get up, feeling a sting of pain in your back for lying in that awkward position for so long. Right when you’ve put on your slippers, the doorbell rings and you groan. How did the package you stress-ordered last night arrive so early? These deliveries are getting faster and faster.

You walk to the front door and open it thoughtlessly, freezing up at the sight. Your first reaction is to cover yourself. You’re not exactly your best-looking version at the moment. Jaehyun’s dark circles almost match yours but he’s better dressed than you are—in a black T-shirt and jeans while you’re wearing a Gudetama pajama set.

“We’re not just friends,” he blurts. “We’re not soulmates but we’re not just friends.”

“Huh? Oh my god, this is the most embarrassing I’ve looked.”

Jaehyun furrows his eyebrows in a question look.

“That’s not important! Look—”

He pushes you inside, closing the door behind him. His hair is so disheveled and messy, he barely even looks like the same well-maintained marketing employee you know.

Jaehyun tugs at his T-shirt, pulling down to reveal his tattoo—albeit with your marker-drawn arrow through it. He does have a pretty well-built chest, you note before chiding yourself for getting distracted.

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you, uh, need help scrubbing it off or something?”

“No.” Jaehyun lets out a huff of exasperation. “It won’t wash off. If it’s what I think it is—”

“Miracles don’t happen to people like us, Jaehyun,” you say quietly.

He gulps. “I don’t know about miracles but… I just needed an excuse to see you, I guess.”

You look up, a rose blush over Jaehyun’s bare face, and run your finger over the tattoo, sighing at the warmth of his skin. Your hand travels up to his cheek, resting atop it while you muster enough courage to look Jaehyun in his chocolate brown eyes.

You pull away. This isn’t the time. You still have an internal crisis to sort out. Are you even deserving of love? It makes much more sense if the answer is no.

However, Jaehyun pulls you in by the waist, his right palm warm against your cheek.

“I don’t care what anyone says.” He runs his thumb over your cheek in a painfully fond manner. “You’re worth more than the price I pay for this.”

He leans in and presses his lips to yours swiftly, your head clearing of thoughts almost immediately. It feels so right, you can feel the spark, the red thread around your skin, hear the bells. This kiss was far more perfect than it was supposed to be.

You part, gasping. Jaehyun blinks at you, breathing heavily.

“Kiss me again.”

Jaehyun does as told and you might just believe in miracles this way. With his hand around your waist and in your hair, his lips over yours and the low rumbling laughter that parts the two of you—you might just believe in miracles. You might just believe that love isn't something you deserve by earning.

“I like this,” Jaehyun comments. “I like the way this is.”

You press your finger to his lips. “I think you should shut up and kiss me some more.”

Jaehyun rolls his eyes. “I know you’re sexually repressed as of now, but that’s no reason to take advantage of me.”

You scowl, punching him on the shoulder and moving away from him.

“Come back,” he complains in a quiet voice.

“I am not going to do that.” You cross your arms.

“Come on,” he mutters, inching closer as you inch away, till your back hits the couch and you tumble backwards onto it, your legs on the headrest. Jaehyun laughs at your position, leaning in to keep his hands on either side of you, a doting look over him.

“Hey, did you know if I kicked my leg up, it would hit you in the balls?”

“Please don’t do that.”

You giggle, Jaehyun’s nose rubbing against yours in a bunny kiss.

“Is your place usually this much of a mess?” Jaehyun raises an eyebrow.

You sigh heavily. “I was having a bad day, okay? Or… a bad weekend.”

“Do you even have food?”

You look away, crossing your arms. Jaehyun sighs and shakes his head.

“We should go grocery shopping. How do you live like this?”

You scoff. “Oh, spare me the lecture. I’ve heard enough horror stories about your room from Sicheng. You can’t hide from me by sweeping your clothes and belongings into his room.”

“Snitch,” he mutters under his breath.

You can’t help the giggle that erupts from your mouth and you immediately cover it. Jaehyun smiles at you fondly and you look away, unable to bear that gaze of his.

“It really won’t wash off, by the way,” Jaehyun states, scratching at his collarbone.

You narrow your eyes, smacking his arms away to roll off the couch. Taking his wrist, you walk into your bathroom and turn the tap on. Something’s strange. But also strangely right.

“Look, I already tried—ow! Don’t rub that hard!”

You blink in confusion, trying again despite Jaehyun looking like his soul already left him. It doesn’t work. Your marker isn’t even that permanent. At least his regenerating skin cells should get rid of that arrow. Unless the ink was deep enough to pierce all the layers, as in a soulmark.

You gasp.

“You were right!”

“I told you s—”

"That's the point, isn't it?" you say, realization dawning as your eyes widen. "To see if people will question the system at all."

Jaehyun shrugs. “Maybe.”

"Oh, all those unhappy marriages that could have been saved," you say as you exhale.

Jaehyun chuckles lightly. "I think that the point was, people can be happy without their soulmates. It's whoever you make one out of. Or I Googled too many articles on anti-soulmate propaganda."

You smile, leaning in to press a kiss against his cheek. Watching his ears turn bright red is the cherry on top.

“Okay, fake-boyfriend-turned-real-soulmate.” You give him a cheeky smile. “Did you rethink your decision about sharing that Netflix password with me? I get the girlfriend free pass, right? Right?”

“I didn’t even share it with my mother.”

You whack his arm, him possibly used to it by now, judging from his lack of response.

“Idiot.” You cross your arms. “We can Netflix… and chill then. God, I can’t believe I said that.”

Jaehyun breaks into a chuckle. “You’re so pushy.”

“And you like being pushed around, nerd.”

“Who said that?”

Jaehyun wraps his arms around you, spinning you so that your back hits the door. He leans in to kiss you again and you smack your palm over his pouted lips. You laugh at his face, his eyes brimming with confusion.

“You’re in my apartment. I make the rules here. Think twice before you start a game with me, Mister.”

His shoulders droop. “Fine. Can you at least let me kiss you four times a day?”

“Five times, if you ask.”

He laughs before leaning in again. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Wasn’t it obvious?”

“You are one hell of a woman. Emphasis on hell.”

You laugh and grab his collar, pulling him in for the kiss that seals this deal.

You realize a few things in the moment: a) You don’t have to play roulette to find love, b) You don’t have to pick your poison to find love, and most importantly c) Love is right where you make something of it. Fate is still not in your good books but if it bends to you this way, you don’t mind at all. If Jaehyun kisses you like this every day, you don’t mind one bit.

2K notes · View notes

quindolyn · 3 years

Note

hi can i request the maurauders going to see the reader do a musical like heathers or mean girls and they are just confused and turned on bc they didn't expect it to be this dirty (can lead to smut or not). luv you and hope you are taking care of yourself, if not go get something to eat, drink some water, take a nap, or do somthing you enjoy. or dont not trying to be pushy :)

Creature of the Night || Poly!Marauders

Word Count: 3029 (excluding song lyrics)

A/N: I think I liked how this turned out? I didn’t make it smut but it’s certainly suggestive, I went with Rocky Horror, I know that the musicals mentioned in the request are more modern but I fucking love Rocky Horror and I think it works with the request. When I first read this request I smiled so much because I love live theater, I don’t perform as much as I used to because as I progress with my education I’m focusing more on the stuff I can use to pad my resumes for college and stuff but I still love going to see productions. One of the worst parts of the pandemic for me has been not being able to go see shows, I miss it so much.

Warnings: theatre enthusiast reader, erections, suggestive material, song lyrics, slight teasing, wearing very little clothing in front of an audience, I believe that that is it

Masterlist

500 follower celebration

antici-

The magic of the stage was second to none. Sure, Hogwarts may have had witches and wizards, subjects like Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and ghosts that spent their time meandering about the halls but there was always a part of you that looked forward to the summer between your years at Hogwarts. Because no matter how magical Hogwarts was, the theater always made you feel completely and utterly alive.

Every summer since the one after your first year at what all of your muggle friends thought to be a very prestigious boarding school up in Scotland, you’d taken part in your local youth theater’s productions. Your parents both being muggles thought that it would be a great way for you to be able to stay in touch with your muggle origins.

The first year you’d been far too nervous to actually audition for a role, the very thought causing bile to churn in your stomach and threaten to make you sick all over your kitchen floor when your father first pitched the idea. So instead you’d done costumes and it was the most wonderful experience of your life.

Who needed drugs when you had live theater? The hustle and bustle behind the scenes was electrifying but after two summers of costuming, of quick changes in the wings, learning how to use the ancient sewing machines they stored in the depths of the storage rooms, and pulling pieces for the actors to try on you decided that you wanted to try something more.

The moment you had stepped onto the stage it was like you’d come to life and you cursed yourself for not taking the risk earlier. You belonged on the stage, with the harsh stage lights on you and pounds of makeup plastered onto your face you could feel the magic thrumming through your veins and it was addicting.

If it was possible, you were even more excited to perform this summer, the previous school year you’d finally gotten together with your long time best friends the Marauders, turning them from friends to your boyfriends.

When your mother had sent word of the production being put on this summer you’d squealed while seated next to James and across from Remus, who had Sirius hanging off of his side. After explaining to them, mostly Sirius and James really, just what live theater was their first reaction was to ask if they could come see you perform.

“I don’t even know if I’m going to be cast,” You had explained gently, not wanting to get their hopes up in case you weren’t cast this year.

“Bull shit of course you’re going to be the cast,” Sirius had contested through a mouthful of jam and toast, waving his hand theatrically through the air, watching him that day was not the first time you’d considered how the way he acted often reminded you of an over enthusiastic theatre major.

Remus, the only one with any knowledge on muggle theatre had snorted, wrapping an arm around Sirius’ waist to pull him closer to his body, “She’s not going to be the cast Pads, she’s going to be casted,” He’d corrected gently, pressing a kiss into his long, dark tresses.

“Whatever,” The smaller boy had grumbled, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

Which brought you to where you were right now, five minutes to curtain touching up your make up in the mirror of the shared make-up room.

“Hey (L/N),” One of your cast mates called settling into the makeup chair next to you as she plucked a tube of dark red lipstick from the small canary colored makeup bag she had previously abandoned on the counter, “Your boyfriends coming tonight?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

“Yeah, they are,” You responded, applying mascara to your lashes.

“Excited to meet them, that photo you showed us,” She smiled, fanning her face with her hand, “Smoking,” She smiled, making eye contact with you in the mirror.

Rolling your eyes you ignored her comment, “It’s five minutes to curtain, you’re just now doing your make-up?” You chuckled, noticing her black face.

“Oh, shove it,” She laughed as you pushed yourself from your chair, traipsing out of the room, giving her the middle finger on your way out.

“Break a leg!” She called after you as the door latched shut.

You weren’t usually this nervous before a performance but knowing that your three boyfriends were sitting out there somewhere in the audience had you pacing back and forth backstage wondering what they were going to think of the whole production.

“Rocky Horror?” Sirius’ confusion evident in his voice as he plopped down in his seat next to Remus, throwing his arm around the werewolf’s shoulders, drumming his fingers on his clothed shoulder hidden behind his knitted cardigan.

“Yeah,” James collapsed into his chair on the other side of Remus, tucking one leg under his body, “No clue what it’s about but I’m sure our angel will be wonderful. Can you guys see her?” He straightened himself up in his seat, craning his neck in attempts to catch a glimpse of you.

Remus being the only one with any ties to the muggle world knew a bit about the show and had to do his very best to suppress a smirk from overtaking his face as he knew exactly what he and your other two boyfriends were getting themselves into.

“Just hush up you two, the show’s gonna start any moment,” He scolded, patting his large, scarred hand on James’ thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Rem,” Sirius whined, puckering his lips and closing his eyes, signaling to his boyfriend that he wanted a kiss.

“My needy baby,” He crooned, leaning in to connect his lips with Sirius’ in a quick liplock before pulling back, allowing Sirius to drop his forehead to smear against his shoulder.

“That’s mean,” Sirius murmured discontentedly.

“Poor baby Pads,” James cooed mockingly.

“Both of you,” Remus hissed as the lights in the theatre dimmed, “The show’s about to start, be good for me and be quiet yeah?”

Their response came in their silence as the crowd started settling down and the music from the orchestra pit began a voice coming from somewhere out of sight as it was played through the speakers,

“Michael Rennie was ill

The day the earth stood still

But he told us where we stand”

Not 20 minutes into the show all three of them were as hard as rocks, James had already made Remus check the playbill for the name of the character you were playing, not being able to remember what you’d told them as all of his concentration was focused on a certain place.

Janet Weiss.

Remus couldn’t remember either, but he was almost certain that’s the name he could make out in the dark theatre, printed next to a picture of your smiling face.

When you’d stripped down to your underwear the boys could barely focus on the plot line of the show, only being able to watch the way your bare skin shone under the harsh light of the spotlights. Watching as sweat glistened on your skin, making you shine as you moved about the stage.

Enchanted by the melodic cadence of your voice they all felt a certain jealousy burning deep in the pits on their stomachs at the thought that there were dozens of other people packed into that theater, all observing you in your vulnerable state of under dress. Only they got to see you like that.

Sirius missed much of the first act glaring at members of the audience who he deemed as looking at you for too long for his liking, but if you were being honest a 4th year smiling at you in the hallway was sometimes too long for his liking.

It wasn’t like any of them had never seen you naked before, in fact they’d all seen you naked more than their fair share of times but something about you on that stage in a white bra with a matching slip was driving them all crazy.

Especially Remus, whose ultimate weakness was seeing you in anything white which was one of the reasons you’d been so excited to invite them in the first place, knowing that they would be horny messes the entire time.

On stage you did your very best not to look out into the audience looking for them, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to stop a ginormous grin from forming on your face and you couldn’t afford to break character. Not if you wanted the night to go your way.

As the opening notes to “Touch-A, Touch-A, Touch Me”, rose from the orchestra pit you had trouble stopping a small smirk from pulling at your lips as you opened them, inhaling deeply before singing the first words of the song,

“I was feeling done in, couldn't win

I'd only ever kissed before”

Despite yourself you caught a glimpse of long dark hair in the audience, quickly taking a glance at Sirius’ face, eyes glazed over in lust, legs shifting uncomfortably with his mouth hanging wide open.

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed another raven-haired boy’s mouth dropping as you shrugged off of your robe

“I thought there’s no use getting, into heavy petting

It only leads to trouble and, seat wetting

Now all I want to know, is how to go

I've tasted blood and I want more”

It was impossible to miss the way Remus’ jaw clenched as you laid your palm against Rocky’s chest, he was being played by your good friends who’d been working with the same theatre company as you since forever, he was like a brother to you. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t lay it on extra thick tonight with your boyfriends in the audience.

Tracing a dainty finger down Rocky’s chest you pushed your body against his singing out the next lyrics of the song,

“I've got an itch to scratch, I need assistance”

You turned you and your cast mate so that looking over his shoulder you were able to meet Remus’ eye, sending him a quick wink before focusing back in on Rocky.

“Toucha, toucha, toucha, touch me

I wanna be dirty

Thrill me, chill me, fulfill me

Creature of the night”

Pressing your back up against Rocky’s chest you guided his hands with yours to your breasts, squeezing them as you followed the choreography you knew by heart.

You ripped your slip from your body with the help of Rocky leaving you in only your white bra, matching panties and a pair of small heels as you paraded around stage, belting the suggestive lyrics into the theater.

“Then if anything grows, while you pose

I'll oil you up and rub you down (down, down, down)

And that’s just one small fraction, of the main attraction

You need a friendly hand, oh i need action”

You smirked, thinking about all of the action you’d be on the receiving end of later that night as you sunk to your knees in front of Rocky, your hands grasping his thighs. Deciding to tease them perhaps a little more than necessary as you went through the number, curling your leg around his and pressing your bodies together so that there was no space between your two questionably clothed bodies.

As the number was brought to a close it was impossible for you to ignore the excitement bubbling up inside of you as you continued your way through the show you kept throwing glances at your boyfriends, always finding their eyes already trained on you. More often than not, on some body part other than your face.

If your boyfriends thought that they had a bit of a problem before that song they were in a terrible predicament now.

Remus caught Sirius on multiple occasions trying to move the hand that he was holding to grope at his crotch as he tried to buck up into his boyfriend’s hand. And much to his own dismay, Remus would pull his hand away, thinking it probably wasn’t the best idea to give his boyfriend a hand job in a crowded theater. Knowing that he wouldn’t have to worry about James touching himself because he would never dream of disobeying him, Remus divided his attention between you on the stage and keeping Sirius in check.

Each of the boys were counting down the seconds until the show came to an end and they could get out of there and relieve some of their tension. As the curtains were pulled closed they all breathed a sigh of relief before they reopened, leaving all three of them bewildered and slightly annoyed, even more so when they noticed everyone around them standing as they applauded the actors.

Remus forced both of them up when you rushed to the front of the stage, curtsying as the crowd went wild, your boyfriends most notably. As you took your bow you blew a kiss to your boyfriends taking note of the uncomfortable way they all stood, trying to adjust their erections to make them less noticeable while simultaneously applauding you.

As you cleared the stage after curtain call you took your time, doddling towards the dressing rooms where you had left the clothes you’d arrived at the theater in along with a special outfit you’d brought for after the show. Usually you were one of the first actors to clear the theater after a show but tonight you took your time. Hanging up your costume with more care than anyone really should treat any garment with and certainly more than what it needed.

You smirked mischievously as you pulled the you’d brought outfit from your bag and shimmied it up your legs before slipping the delicate straps up your shoulders. You glimpsed yourself in the mirror, the red satin of the dress clinging to your curves in an attractive manner, short enough to display miles of legs and low cut enough to show off a decent amount of cleavage and perhaps a sighting of the matching red bra you were wearing beneath it.

Slinging the back of your black heels over the heel of your feet you snatched your purse from the armchair in your dressing room before striding out to go meet your boyfriends in the lobby, where you’d told them to wait for you.

Their heads all turned as they heard the clacking of your heels against the tile of the floor, “Boys,” You greeted as they unabashedly took in your new appearance.

As he most often was, Remus was the first one to collect himself, “Puppy, you were wonderful,” He praised, walking to meet you as you approached him, leaning down to smear a kiss against your cheek, “You did amazing up there, so proud of you,” He threw his arm around your waist as you walked towards Sirius and James.

“We got something for you,” He explained, his grip on your waist tightening, “Jamie give it to her, yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” The smaller boy grinned, remembering the bouquet he held cradled in his arms as he handed it over to you, “Here you go angel.”

“Thank you Jamie,” You said as you took it from him, closing your eyes as you buried your nose in the sweet smelling flora. As you opened your eyes you made eye contact with Sirius, who stood across from you, practically drooling as he took in your appearance without any shame, “They smell wonderful.”

“You okay Si?” You asked, looking up through your eyelashes, batting them innocently.

“Like you don’t know exactly what you did up there to us (Y/N/N),” Remus whispered in your ear, pressing his nose into your temple.

“You guys are the ones who wanted to come,” You lilted, rubbing one of the velvety petals between the pads of your thumb and forefinger.

“Could’ve warned us,” James mumbled, his eyes not leaving your thighs as he licked his lips, if it were anyone else you would’ve been uncomfortable but you couldn’t help but feel flattered whenever any of them ogled you.

“And what’s with the dress Pup?” Sirius nodded his head appreciatively towards your dress, obviously admiring the way it hung on your body.

“What, you don’t like it?” You asked with fake hurt in your voice, knowing that he more than liked it, he fucking loved it.

“S’not that,” Remus mumbled, nosing at your jugular, “Just that whole show, got us a little bit worked up. We didn’t expect it to be so sexual Puppy,” He nodded towards James and that’s when you noticed the erection he was still sporting.

“Got us really worked up, can we go home now?” James asked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, trying to distract himself from his little problem.

“Jamie,” You whined, smiling wickedly, “I wanted to celebrate, I was thinking we could go eat somewhere, I was thinking maybe Thai food?”

You watched as Sirius ground his teeth, conflicted between needing to get home and not wanting to deny you from what you wanted.

“Having fun teasing us Bunny?” Remus asked you with a sly smirk, knowing exactly what you were doing.

“M’not teasing,” You insisted, turning indignantly to your other boyfriend.

“Sure you aren’t,” He chuckled, “Thai sounds great (Y/N), wanna talk with you about the show,” The idea of teasing Sirius and James even longer was very appealing to Remus and he was ready to make the sacrifice of being teased himself, knowing that he’d be able to get back at you later that night.

“But-” James began.

“You wanna argue with me Jamie?” Remus challenged, raising a singular eyebrow.

“No,” He moped, “Of course not.”

“Good,” Remus said, nodding his head approvingly, “We wouldn’t wanna deny our Princess would we?”

James shook his head, eyes pleading, desperately seeking Remus’ approval.

“Pads?” Remus challenged, turning his attention to the other raven haired man.

“What? Oh um, of course not,” He agreed distractedly, dragging his eyes from your form to meet Remus’, his reluctance evident in his voice.

“Good,” Remus said pointedly, his eyes cold, daring Sirius to question him. When he didn’t the werewolf continued, “Let’s get going then, there’s a nice little restaurant a couple blocks away yeah?”

As you all hummed your consent you made your way to the exit, “Ten galleons if you can make James cum in his pants at dinner,” Remus whispered in your ear quietly enough so that James and Sirius trailing behind you wouldn’t be able to hear you, you could hear the smirk in his voice as you exited the theatre.

“Deal.” This was going to be fun, you considered that you might have to invite them to come see the show again.

-pation

tagging: @randomoutsiders @weasleyposts @kittykylax @amourtentiaa @superbturtlemakerathlete

1K notes · View notes

ptergwen · 3 years

Note

can i put in a request, where the reader and tom having a huge fight, giving each other silent treatment for a whole day, until one of them breaks.. maybe when they're sitting together, tom like touches the reader's fingers before slowly turning into them hugging??

damn this one was so :(

warnings: swearing and angst throughout

“this is so fucked! it’s becoming every day with you!” you shout at tom, throwing your hands up in disbelief. “i don’t care, i don’t give a shit what rdj thinks or whose designer fucking brand you’re wearing clothes from.” tom chuckles bitterly with his arms crossed over his chest. “you know, most people would.” giving him a smile that has nothing happy behind it, you shrug. “well, i guess i’m just different.”

“yeah, you fucking are,” he agrees and looks you over in the most judgy way possible. “you think you’re so interesting, y/n/n? guess what, sweetheart? i don’t wanna hear about your shit either.” you scoff, rolling your eyes up to the ceiling. “oh, the vacuum’s broken! we’re out of milk!” tom mocks you, which makes you laugh at how incredibly inaccurate he is. “i don’t even use the vacuum.”

humming sarcastically, he drops his arms to his sides. “maybe you should, then. do something besides cry about me having a life that’s actually worth fucking mentioning.” that was too far. before it was just snide digs everyone has made one time or another. now, he’s getting personal. you can, too.

“you’re not that fucking cool, tom. you’re another actor out of the how many in hollywood?” you purse your lips, watching him go from smug to pissed off. “you aren’t leonardo dicaprio, no matter how much you wanna be.” tom takes a step back from you with a clenched jaw. “fuck off already. you’re so annoying sometimes, jesus.” he starts to leave the kitchen, but not without you getting the last word.

“ok, so are you!” you yell back. tom shoos you off with his back to you, then he’s disappearing into another part of the house. that wasn’t as satisfying as you thought it would be.

hours pass by while tom stays locked in the room designated as his office. he’s probably on the phone with robert, talking shit about you because that seems like something he’d do at the moment. maybe he’ll get a second opinion from jake. you take over the couch and find a movie on netflix, since you’re so boring and have nothing better to do. you’re too distracted by both yours and tom’s words to pay attention.

it’s a little after midnight, over half a day since your fight, when you hear tom’s office door creak open. that was the last time you two spoke. you’re still stowed away in the living room, a blanket thrown over you as you stare at the tv and retain nothing from it. tom wordlessly takes the spot at the other end of the couch.

his eyes are puffy, knuckles rubbing at his red nose. he’s been crying on and off the whole day. he feels so beyond awful about what he said to you, and what you said really stung him.

you pretend not to care that tom is in here, that you haven’t been regretting the gross things that came out of your mouthes and wishing you two could make up for them. you look straight at the dumb comedy playing in front of you. you’re not so sure what the right way is to approach all of this.

tom glances over at you, you discreetly picking up on it from your peripherals. he inches closer to you ever so slightly. your arm rests on the cushion between you two. testing the waters, he reaches down and puts a hand on the back of yours. you don’t pull away. he carefully threads his fingers through yours, a dry sniffle leaving him once your hands are connected.

you finally look at tom for the first time in too long. your chest gets tight all over again at how completely broken he seems. everything you assumed had been wrong. you let go of his hand, instead tightening both arms around his neck. he instantly hugs you back by your waist, face nuzzling into your shoulder, eyes closed in relief to have you back in his arms.

“i’m sorry, y/n/n. i’m so sorry,” tom mumbles against you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “i’m sorry, too. we were both wrong,” you reply quietly and lean your head on the side of his. he moves away enough to meet your eyes, hands staying on either of your sides. “your life is worth mentioning, all you do is. i don’t know what the fuck made me say it wasn’t.” your lip starts to wobble, so you bite down on it.

“i’ve been... a huge dick lately. i guess i’m just, i’m spending too much time in the spotlight. no excuses, though.” tom pecks the corner of your lips gently, right as a tear makes its way down your face. he kisses that away also. “and the stuff about you vacuuming, that was so... so sexist, and- and misogynysic. i’ll never say it again.”

you’ve never heard him use those words correctly before, so he must have looked them up in your time apart. the thought of that makes you let out a teary laugh.

tom smiles a little, pulling you into his chest for another hug. “you okay?” he checks. you only nod and grab at his torso. you look up at him with a frown still stuck on. “yeah, and thank you for everything you just said. makes me feel a lot better. i love you.” he brushes his lips against your forehead. “i love you, too.”

you let go of him so you can properly apologize next. “i’m really sorry, tom. god, i sounded so jealous and shit, but i’m not. i’m happy you found your people because i know that’s not easy to do. you’re allowed to be excited.” tom shakes his head, you nodding in protest. “and, comparing you to fucking leonardo dicaprio... who does that? that just wasn’t fair.” you both share in laughter at that.

bringing it back to a more serious note, you give him a squeeze. “you’ll get there someday. you’re you, and that’s gonna be enough when it’s time.” tom rubs at your back in gratitude and smushes his cheek against your head. “thank you, angel. that means a lot, really.” “you’re welcome,” you sigh out and give him a small kiss on his chest.

“let’s never fight again. i mean it. we should always just talk like this,” he suggests, you grinning at him, a real grin. “yeah, just like this.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland angst #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fic #tom holland request #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader

680 notes · View notes

spencersawkward · 3 years

Note

hi i love your writing sm, could u do something w having sex w mgg in his trailer🦋

oh yes i can most definitely do that. i just did a blurb that included something similar but i have a whole other fantasy for this one that i think would be so hot. this is just like filthy smut i might have done a lil too much lol.

summary: reader goes to visit her friend, Matthew, on set. when he catches her doing something dirty in his trailer, he offers to help.

word count: 4.2k

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, masturbation, dirty talk, face-sitting, degradation, Cocky Matthew, some semi-exhibitionism.

masterlist

my toes curl over the sheets and I let out a dissatisfied groan as I throw the abandoned vibrator onto the side table. ever since flying home from visiting friends in New York, I’ve been absolutely, embarrassingly... horny.

usually, my trusty toy is able to work wonders; this week has been rough, though. maybe it’s something to do with my stress-levels or maybe my body just doesn’t feel like cooperating. it doesn’t help that I have about an hour before I’m scheduled to visit my friend on the set of his show.

I haven’t seen Matthew in almost a year. between his shooting schedule and my own job getting more demanding, spending time together really hasn’t been possible. I miss his laugh and the way our conversations always flow so easily. whenever we hang out, it’s like we pick up right where we left off. and now, as I give up on trying to get one off before seeing him, I start to wonder what to expect. a tour? meeting his castmates?

to be completely honest, I don’t really want to do any of that. I’m sure they’re all very nice people and we’d have a good time, but the last week in the city was so full of group interactions that I’m really hoping to sit across from each other and just... talk.

there’s no point in speculating, though. instead, I glance over at my disappointing toy and sigh. maybe next time.

when I get there, Matthew texts me to wait for him so he can bring me to his trailer. everyone is bustling around, moving according to their own chaotic schedules. a couple golf carts occasionally roll through the space, toting actors and other personnel. it’d be overwhelming for anyone who isn’t used to it.

“Y/N!” Matthew’s voice cuts across the din of the set as he waves. he’s leaning out of the side of a golf cart that he’s driving, which makes me nervous as he pulls up to me. I raise my eyebrows in surprise as he stops the cart and hops out to wrap me in a hug.

he smells good, like expensive cologne and cool air. as he withdraws, he sets his hands on my shoulders and grins at me.

“you look great! how are you?” as usual, he’s talkative. I smile back, though, and take in his appearance. he’s always been handsome, but right now Matthew is looking especially good: the breeze has swept his curls, he’s got on a colorful button-up short-sleeve with parakeets on it, and there’s some stubble growing on his face that’s new. he looks older, more mature.

kind of sexy.

“I’m really well. cool ride you’ve got.” I nod to the golf cart and Matthew laughs.

“you wanna know a secret?” he smirks. I raise my eyebrows and he leans down a little to reach my height. “I’m not supposed to drive that.”

“how’d you get it?” I frown. knowing him, he probably managed to charm his way around the rules, but I’m sure there’s a funny story behind it as well. he’s full of weird anecdotes.

“one of my cast mates distracted the guy who runs the warehouse where they keep them.” he winks, then gestures for me to follow him. I slide into the passenger seat and before I can really process what’s happening, he’s swerving in a wide circle and speeding off.

“I’ve been meaning to call you,” he practically yells over the sound of the motor. “but I know you’ve been busy.”

“yeah, I actually just started writing for this new show.”

“you’re downtown, then?” he glances over with a smile and then we’re slowing to a stop. an enormous trailer sits among rows of other enormous trailers, presumably for his cast mates. he turns off the cart and turns his body to face me while I talk. zeroes in on me in a way that makes my stomach flip.

“for right now, yeah.” I can’t help the smile. it’s been a while since I’ve worked in Los Angeles; I was working as a writer on one of Matthew’s independent films when I got an offer in New York and decided to relocate. and even though it was amazing there, I missed California sunshine and I missed him. we were inseparable before I left.

“so, what I’m hearing is that you’re now legally bound to hang out with me.” he grins in that dazzling way of his. I laugh and nod, climbing out when he does. he opens the trailer door for me. “I have to go back to work in about twenty minutes, but afterwards I wanna take you to dinner.”

“oh, I could have come later. I’m sorry.” I turn to apologize, but he’s quick to wave it off.

“it’s fine. as long as you don’t mind spending an hour in here, it shouldn’t be too torturous.”

I peer around the space, noticing the little ways in which Matthew has made this place his own: aside from all the complimentary gift baskets and notes, the trailer is occupied by strange trinkets that he’s collected, random books and notebooks that scatter the couch and what looks like an attempt at a desk.

“wow.” I say. he sidles up next to me, sighing and realizing that it’s a bit cluttered.

“sorry about the mess. I haven’t really had time to clean up.”

“no, no, I meant ‘wow’ in a good way.” I walk over to the couch and sit down, patting the spot next to me. he smiles, pushes an acting theory book out of the way, and sinks into the cushions a safe distance from me.

“tell me about this job, then.” he immediately starts. I shrug.

“it’s nothing huge, just a teen drama. everyone I work with is brilliant, though.”

“that’s amazing. have you had a chance to work on your art?”

I think back to all the times when Matthew and I would spend free afternoons doing doodle competitions of the crew, usually on random scripts. they were judged by other cast mates, anyone who would take the time to look. I don’t think I was supposed to be on set as much as I was, but it was worth it.

“I wish. my schedule is so busy now, I barely have time to make dinner for myself.” I laugh. he leans back into the corner of the couch, resting his arm on top of the back. I pull one leg beneath me and mirror his actions.

“that’s too bad. I was looking forward to seeing some new stuff.”

“I don’t think any of my co-workers would particularly enjoy the representations I do of them.”

“sour sports.” he says. the strangeness and vehemence of the sentiment makes me snort and I glance at the notebooks around the room.

“how about you? any new masterpieces?”

we go on like this for a while, just catching up and slipping into our inside jokes and memories as if they aren’t from a different time in our lives. although I was excited to see him today, there was a lingering nervousness about it going as planned. sometimes you try to reconnect and the spark is just... gone. but Matthew is still Matthew, and I’m still me.

he ends up leaving to go shoot sooner than I can believe, time passing quickly, and tells me to feel free to read any of his books or look through his sketchbooks. he never hides anything, and it’s admirable.

once he’s gone, I settle onto the couch with a used Ray Bradbury anthology that I found beneath a bag of sour candies and start to read.

my mind wanders, however, as I try to concentrate on the page. I think about how Matthew looks now, how the stubble makes his jaw even more defined. those wide, hazel eyes that always seem to glitter with enthusiasm. I don’t know if I’m still frustrated from the unsuccessful session with my vibrator earlier, but the thoughts begin to turn over in my mind and mingle with other ones.

there were moments with him that I remember, quiet ones where we’d be about to say goodnight or moments where he’d fall asleep on my shoulder in my apartment, where I’d look at him and consider the possibility. we get on so well, and he’s arguably one of my best friends. distance hasn’t changed that. there are things I would tell him that I haven’t told my other friends.

and when he’d brush against my skin, or grab my arm to get my attention, and my imagination would run wild. heated kisses and closed doors. finding the way to my bed in the dark, his hands on my waist while he crawls on top of me. things that never happened but that I imagined as if they were real memories seared into my mind.

and now, sitting in this trailer with this book and on this couch that smells like him, those feelings return like something lost, then found: rushing, feverish, overpowering. the images come in a flux, his weight on top of mine and his teeth dragging over my tits. on this couch, that’s all I want.

there’s a blush on my cheeks as I drop the book on the floor and undo the button on my pants. it won’t take me long; I can feel how wet I’m getting and I haven’t even thought that much about it. the pent-up excitement from earlier will overtake my senses. he said I have an hour, and this might take ten minutes tops.

as my fingertips brush over my panties, I close my eyes and imagine they’re his. curious, gentle, teasing before reaching below the waistband and cupping me. I whimper, starting to trace over the wet folds of my entrance with an eager hand. it feels good, right, and the heat of my body tells me that this time, it’ll work. my head is full of thoughts of him, and I dip a finger in, clenching around the digits. the heel of my palm presses into my clit and I moan, starting to work myself.

I imagine Matthew coming in here after he’s done and kissing me like he’s wasted enough time waiting; like he can’t wait another second to be with me. my pace quickens at the memory of his hands, veined and strong and sure, pumping into me. taunting me.

“Matthew...” I whine, removing my fingers to circle my clit with a hurried pressure. every second burns across my skin, reminding me that what I’m doing is wrong. I shouldn’t be touching myself in his trailer while he works, especially not when he’s coming back soon.

but it’s hot, too, and the rhythm I create is impossible to resist. I switch between fingering and toying with my bundle of nerves while clenching my free hand in the couch cushion. my eyes are squeezed shut as I get closer to orgasm, the knot in my stomach tightening with every moment.

“o-oh my god,” I hum. “Matthew--”

the sharp intake of breath makes my entire body freeze. my eyes fly open to see the bastard himself standing there, lips parted. he can’t seem to figure out where to look: my face, which was just contorted in pleasure while I moaned his name, or my pussy, which is almost completely on display now that I’ve managed to push my jeans down to my knees.

“oh my god.” I stutter, immediately removing my hand and sitting up. my cheeks are on fire and everything around me seems surreal. this can’t be real. “y-you weren’t supposed to be back for an hour.” I say stupidly. shit ton of luck that hour did me.

“we, uh, wrapped early.” he averts his eyes, then glances cautiously at my face. “I promise I walked in here before I knew. I never meant--”

“no, it’s fine.” I pull up my jeans, still too shocked to make any sweeping movements. he doesn’t seem quite sure what to do with himself, and I speak to break the silence. “sorry, I know I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I wonder what you’d have done with an actual hour.” he says it like he’s attempting to lighten the mood, then winces as he realizes that he shouldn’t have said that. “sorry, bad joke. I’m just-- surprised.”

“Matthew, I’m so sorry--” I start. there’s literally no other direction to take this conversation. I feel like I’ve ruined our friendship within the span of a few seconds.

“were you saying my name?” he asks, eyebrows slightly raised. I would like to sink into the floor and never come up again, I think.

“well, the thing is--” I take a deep breath. “I don’t normally, um... do that in people’s trailers?” my frown makes him smile a little as he relaxes. now that I’m fully clothed, he doesn’t seem so daunted. I scoot up on the couch and glance between the open spot and him to get him to sit. standing only makes it weirder.

he obliges, watching me pull my knees into my chest before I start to explain. guilt is building in my chest now, so much more real after being caught.

“I don’t wanna make this even more awkward than it is, but I feel like I should make it clear that there’s a reason why I was doing it in here and I’m not some freak who, like, contaminates people’s space. like, I was just gonna be super quick about it and be done because-- and now I’m justifying it, which is even worse--”

“hey, Y/N, relax.” Matthew reaches out and touches my wrist, his fingers soft as they pull my attention to his. when I finally muster the courage to look him in the eyes, he’s got a small smile on his face. “I’m not mad or anything.”

“okay.” I sigh, spine going a little less rigid.

“you were moaning my name, though, right?” he smirks. my eyes widen.

“don’t get too cocky,” I try to play it off. “I haven’t been able to get off for the past few days and I only tried it to see if it would work.”

“looks like it did.” he glances between my flushed cheeks and the hand that was playing with myself, which is now sitting on my jeans. how is he being so fucking smooth right now?

“whatever.” I turn my face away, knowing that anything else would be damning.

“are you still... frustrated?” he asks. his voice is low. my face snaps up, jaw dropping. one of his hands is covering the crotch of his jeans, trying to hide something.

“why?”

“I can help you out. only if you want to, of course.” he says this in complete seriousness. my gaze passes over his features once again to make sure I’m not absolutely dreaming. every line in his face, the intensity of those pretty irises, feels too real to be fake.

“like...” I think about his hands, about what he’s offering. it’s heavier than just sex, but also maybe not. it doesn’t have to be; we’re adults. our friendship wouldn’t be shattered by one encounter.

“like I’ll eat you out right now and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” we’ve moved closer on the couch, our faces inches apart while he says it so quietly that I wouldn’t hear it otherwise. the way he licks his lips, stares at me, tells me that we’ve already passed the point of no return. there’s no use in holding back anymore.

“mhmm.” I nod. if I say anything more, I’ll reveal more than he wants to know. that I’ve wanted this for a while, even though I tried to forget the way he makes me feel.

“come here, then.” he beckons me forward and I impatiently crash my lips to his. he responds immediately, threading his fingers through my hair and pulling me to him. he’s greedy, but not in a way that overwhelms. like he’s trying to enjoy the moment. his nose brushes my cheek when he deepens the kiss, my hands looping around his neck. he begins to bite on my lower lip, tugging to get me to moan. I let him explore me, those features that he’s seen so many times but has never touched.

we’re hopeful in our embrace, and my mind feels like spring and how I imagine the earth feels when it’s in full bloom. excitement in my veins as we get more heated. when his fingers unbutton my jeans, he pulls away to take a moment.

“sit on my face.” he breathes out, feverish. I nod, getting up to shrug off my jeans. he watches, licking his lips when I pull down my panties and step out of them, then take off my top and bra. he leans back as if to sink down onto the couch for me, but I shake my head.

“take off your clothes first.” I tell him.

“you wanna see me naked?” he knows the truth, but wants me to say it. the smirk on his face makes me annoyingly aroused. I just start to go for the buttons on his shirt.

“yeah, I wanna see you naked.” I reply. this makes him grin and he helps me out by working on his jeans. we strip him down and then we’re both there, looking at each other.

“c’mere, beautiful.” he grabs my hip and pulls me closer until I get on the couch and position myself. he lies down flat, gesturing for me to scoot up his chest until my core is right above his face. “perfect.”

I’m about to poke a little fun at him for being so confident when he reaches up, wraps his hands around my thighs, and pulls me down against his face.

I yelp, overwhelmed by how he moans against my heat and starts to eat me out. his tongue moves expertly, lapping at the wetness that’s gathered between my legs before teasing my entrance. I release a series of noises that are downright sinful, but the red marks he’s leaving in my thighs tell me he’s loving my reaction. his nose brushes against my clit and I start to roll my hips against his face, falling apart already as he switches between sucking, licking, and sliding his tongue inside me. I grip onto his hair, mumbling like a prayer.

he takes the opportunity to quickly slap my ass before returning to my thighs, burying his face and working with a divine acuity. I can’t believe how good it feels, throwing my head back and arching my spine while I hold my tits. Matthew moves my hand and massages one while he stares up into my eyes, lust evident in every sound and motion.

“Matthew, please--” I gasp. “don’t stop.”

he groans, running his nails down my stomach while I ride his face. I’m needy for him, only uttering his name and more pleas for his tongue. and the sensation of him holding me down like he can’t get enough makes the knot from earlier return easily. I lean back a little, swirl my hips, and then it comes like a white-hot wave.

“oh my god—“ I can barely get it out, moving with abandon. “it’s so fucking good.”

he lets my body slow to a reasonable pace, drawing out the high until I’m swallowing all the air I can get and pull myself away from him. Matthew’s grinning, mouth glistening while he sits up a bit.

“such a wet little pussy.” he tells me, licking his lips. I’m pretty much resting on his chest and I start to move off of him when he quickly straightens himself, wraps his arms around my waist, and pushes me so I’m laying on my back at the other end of the couch with him leaning over me.

I brush his curls out of his face, appreciating the hunger in his face. he craves more of me, and the erection he’s pressing into my inner thigh is proof. I look up at him.

“you’re good.” I concede. he shrugs, smiles. butterflies.

“I just think about it a lot.” the response is simple, but it’s the right one. I blush and he grabs his dick, pumping it a few times before lining it up at my entrance. I search his eyes, those widened pupils, as he shoves into me.

“shit.” he moans, jaw dropping once he’s reaching the hilt. “give it to me, baby.” I can feel him deep inside, cock twitching against my walls as he settles. one of his arms is over me, supporting himself on the arm of the couch, while the other holds my waist.

I don’t speak, only bite down on my lip and whimper through the initial shocks of him. it isn’t until he pulls out that I get more vocal. he starts to roll his hips, never breaking eye contact while I arch my back and moan.

“harder.” I whisper. he tightens his grip on me and slams himself inside. my body instinctively moves up away from the pressure, but he brings me right back down.

“is this what you were thinking about?” he breathes out. “me fucking you like a slut?”

I nod urgently, but he uses an index finger to tilt my face back to his.

“tell me who you belong to, little slut.” his tone is low, laced with lust when he bites his lip and watches my reactions to his cock.

“you.” I whine quietly, grabbing his shoulders for stability while he plows into me.

“louder, sweetheart. you were plenty sure before.” he mocks, pausing after to moan in my ear like he’s absolutely losing it. he roughly tugs me further against him and the sensation makes me cry out.

“y-you-- fuck!”

“c’mon, baby.” he pants. we’re definitely rocking this trailer with the way he’s ramming my body right now. I can feel him like he’s in my ribs.

“Matthew, oh god--”

“show me how you cum, Y/N. lemme see you fucking break.” the final word is punctuated by him bottoming-out within me, his noises their own stimulation to my senses. I’m trying to breathe but it’s so hard with all the thoughts firing in my brain. he doesn’t go easy on me.

“I’m cumming.” my hips jerk up into his, pussy fluttering like it’s trying to push him out. but the tension only makes him thrust harder, further, chasing his own release as I claw at his back and squeeze my legs around his torso.

“can I fill that tight little cunt up, baby?” he moans into my ear, our bodies like undulating waves. I nod and buck against him, which drives him mad as his thrusts get sloppier. we’re filthy together and it’s otherworldly. “good girl.”

he lets out a whimpering sound while he stills inside my body and cums. I feel him twitching, shooting his load into me. I’m writhing while I clench around him, both of us falling apart. for all his cockiness, he’s lovely when he’s orgasming-- mouth open, eyes rolling back into his head before focusing intently on my face, a sheen of sweat that glows on his cheekbones.

when he finally withdraws, leaving me naked and panting on his couch, his eyes run over my body appreciatively.

“that help?” he smirks as he straightens. I glare at him, kneeing him in the ribs, and he leans down to kiss my cheek, giving me a tender look. “I’m joking. are you okay?”

“more than okay.” I smile. he doesn’t say anything for a moment, closing and opening his mouth as if debating whether or not to say something else.

“you’re really beautiful, you know that?”

“thanks.” as if this man hasn’t already fucked me senseless, I blush, look away shyly. he grabs my clothes from the floor and hands them to me.

“do you want some water?” he’s worried about giving me space. there’s a question lingering between us that I’m afraid to ask, especially now that he hasn’t. Matthew has always been the more bold between the two of us.

“uh, sure.” if it means he takes his eyes off me long enough for me to regain my bearings, yes. I watch him pull on the rest of his clothes before standing and going over to his mini-fridge. I’ll need to clean up soon.

“so...” his voice is measured, hazel eyes slipping over my form.

“so.”

“dinner? and then breakfast?” he suggests. my eyebrows raise at the second question, one that he hasn’t mentioned until now. the implication makes me laugh.

“you think you’re getting this again?” I try to act nonchalant, as if I’m not already imagining it.

“oh, wait--” he frowns, hesitates. “that’s not what I meant.”

“what did you mean?” there’s a grin taking over my face, hopeful as I await his response. I guess we’re about to answer that question after all.

“I wanna finally take you on a date.” he smiles softly, surprisingly shy. I don’t even hesitate to answer.

“I’m in.”

#mgg smut #mgg #matthew gray gubler #rpf #criminal minds #mgg oneshot

508 notes · View notes

realcube · 3 years

Text

HQ BOYS REACT TO YOU FAKE CRYING

characters ♡ yaku, kenma, kayegama & iwaizumi

content warning ♡ fake crying, mentions of murder, hurt/comfort, fluff & timeskip! iwaizumi (no mature themes, just domesticity)

credit ♡ thank you to 🍦anon for this request

morinosuke yaku

♡ why did you need to need to practise in the bedroom?? in his bedroom, no less

♡ your show was quickly approaching and you recalled the scene where you were to burst out into tears on stage, and you hadn’t yet rehearsed how you were going to do that

♡ honestly, you were under the assumtion that yaku would have no problem with you practising while in his bedroom bc he has ran lines with you in the past and this was hardly any different

♡ so sat, thinking about the most horrible, morbid, grotesque things you possible could, all while keeping your eyes wide open and not blinking so soon enough, the tears started rolling

♡ proud of yourself, you smirked before burying your face into your hands; now to add sobs!

♡ it started out with mere snivels but then as you got more confident, it built up to full on bawls which were loud enough to gain yaku’s attention from the kitchen

♡ he was quick to rush over to his bedroom, his soul audibly leaving his body when he saw your upset weeping figure on the bed

♡ he basically pounced on you and engulfed you with his embrace, ‘dear! what’s wrong? are you alright? who hurt you?!’ the questions were fast falling off his tongue as cradled your head, leaving no room for you to speak without being muffled by his chest or arms

♡ and when he noticed that you were trying to speak, he simply hushed you, ‘shh! it’s okay, dearest.’ and continued to whisper ‘comforting’ stuff like that in your ear

♡ he thought he was helping but really he was just preventing you from getting you point across

♡ eventually, you managed to escape his steel grip and gasp, ‘yaku! i’m fine! look — no tears!” you gestured to you damp cheek, “i was just practising for my role! i’m not actually sad. though, it’s cute that you care so mu--”

♡ as soon as yaku heard the word ‘practising’ he immediately recalled how you mention you have a sad scene where you need to cry and his natural reflex was to lean backwards, grab a massive teddy bear that sat behind him which he had won at a carnival for you but you insisted that he keep it bc you didn’t want to carry it home

♡ ...and he threw it straight at you, causing you to fall backwards and burst out laughing at how you were currently being straddled by a big teddy bear

♡ ‘(y/n)! i thought you were hurt! you can’t just fake cry without telling me first- i was so worried! like i thought it was real and--’ this went on for an elongated amount of time, yaku ranting while you added a faint ‘sorry!’ whenever you saw the opportunity

♡ eventually, he stopped only to take a deep breath, visibly calming doing as his chest heaved, ‘alright. what’s done is done; it’s fine. you worried me though, (y/n). i thought you were being for real, what then?’

♡ you nodded, smiling at his softened expression as your lips twisted into a smirk at his final comment. cocking a brow, you purred, ‘so...you think i’m a good actor? tha--’

♡ pow! another plushie to the face! K.O!

kenma kuzome

♡ as a joke, you dabbed water under your eyes a few times so you could send your friend a snap of you ‘crying’ and ofc kenma had to walk in at exactly the wrong time

♡ you were over at his house, chilling on his couch while he was upstairs talking to kuroo over the phone— he said he’d only be a moment but almost half an hour had passed and he still showed no sign of coming back downstairs, though you couldn’t blame him as kuroo does have a tendency to be overly descriptive when spilling tea

♡ anyway, as soon as you had sent your snap, you placed your phone down and scanned the room in search of some tissues to wipe you eyes with, when kenma barged in

♡ ‘hey, (y/n). i’m sorry that took so lo--’ when his gaze shifted from his phone onto you, sitting on the couch with tears streaming down your cheeks, he immediately cut himself off

♡ at first, you were frozen, simply staring at each other; as if he had just walked in on you committing a violent act of homicide in his living room

♡ honestly you were too stunned to move at first but if you could, you’d probably say something along the lines of ‘this isn’t what it looks like’ but before you could even open your mouth, kenma edged towards you until he was able to outstretch his arms and wrap you in his warm embrace

♡ with your cheek pressed against his warm hoodie, basking in an uncommon blissful silence, you postponed your explanation until you were finished enjoyed how his nimble fingers caressed your back

♡ you hummed, your lips curling a smile at how comfortable you felt in his arms and how nice his hoodie smelt, since it usually reeked of an unholy mixture of body spray and monster energy

♡ he planted a kiss upon your head, murmuring into your hair, ‘baby, what’s wrong?’

♡ you were quick to swipe away your ‘tears’ with the back of your hand, ‘i’m fine, don’t worry.” you chirped, beaming at him to reinforce this point, ‘it’s just water, for a silly video i sent to my friends.’

♡ kenma blinked rapidly, staring down at your seemingly genuine smile

♡ honestly, you expected him to tease you or be irritated that you made him reveal a hidden soft side of himself for no reason, since he’s usually quite private with his emotions

♡ but instead, the corners of his lips just lifted into a slight smile as pushed your head back against his chest, then resting his head upon yours, ‘oh, that’s cool.’ he breathed, his warm, calming voice causing your eyelids to become heavy — that and the fact you had went on a run not too long ago

♡ kenma felt your eyes flutter shut against his chest so he slowly leaned backwards, holding you against his hoodie as he laid down, allowing himself to doze off with you snuggled up on his heaving torso

hajime iwaizumi

♡ you were making iwaizumi dinner, cutting onions and cooking curry

♡ so it was not surprising when tears started brimmed at your eyes, eventually slipping from your lashline and trickling down the soft skin of your cheeks, leaving you to blink rapidly to lubricate your burning eyes

♡ iwaizumi had just came out the shower, he had dried off but when he came downstairs and peered into the kitchen, he was wearing just a towel which was draped around his hips, ‘mm, something smells good. whatcha cookin’, baby?’

♡ he didn’t plan on staying downstairs for long, which is why he didn’t throw on a shirt; all he wanted to do was get to the bottom of what that magnificent aroma was that he smelled from upstairs, then once he figured it out, he’d go back upstairs, get changed, then head back down for dinner

♡ but his plan was cut short when he noticed crystalline tears pouring from your red, puffy eyes

♡ without thinking or taking into consideration why your eyes are red, his immediate reaction was to dash over to your side and slip his arms around your waist, puling you in so that one of your hands had no choice but to rest on his back while the other continued to stir the pot

♡ noticing that your watery eyes were still fixated on the curry, he took your chin inbtween his fingers and forced you to cook at him, ‘why’s my angel crying? hm?’ he cooed, features painted with genuine worry and concern

♡ you lifted a brow, stifling a chuckle at how silly he was being, ‘what do you mean?’

♡ before you could process anything else, iwaizumi bought you in for a passionate kiss with the his hand pressing against the small of your back, only pulling away so he could rest his head on your shoulder and hum into your ear, ‘you can tell me anything, angel, so what’s on your mind?’

♡ you bottom lip quivered at his intimate action — you might just start crying for real

♡ biting your bottom lip, you resisted your tears and forced out a laugh, ‘what’s on my mind? well,’ you started, momentarily letting go of the ladle so you could hug back, ‘i have to make dinner for my himbo husband, but the onions and spices are burning my eyes. pray for me, iwa.’

♡ it took him a moment to register what you just said. he’d been in the kitchen many times so by now he was basically immune to the way onions and spices affect the eyes, so he completely forgot that stuff like that happens. he honestly, wholeheartedly thought that you were crying real tears of sadness while making dinner

♡ he impulsively pushed you away, crossing his arms over his chest and his initial kind expression lowering into a scowl, ‘who are you calling a himbo?! i just forgot that some people have weak-ass eyes. bye.’ he spat, clearly trying his best not to laugh as he stormed off to his room, keeping a firm grip on his towel the whole time

♡ don’t worry, though. he was back ten minutes later — fully clothed — to eat dinner with you :))

♡ but don’t mention it ever again or else he’ll blush and tell you it ever happened

tobio kageyama

♡ you were scrolling on your fyp and found a video of a person explaining how to cry on command and you didn’t believe it’d actually work so you tried it

♡ as it turns out, it does work and now you are sitting on your bed with tear stained cheeks and a dry throat, completely zoned out until kageyama came marching into your bedroom

♡ it was in that moment that you recalled that you had invited him over for a movie night and you had left your front door unlocked for him, hence he must’ve invited himself in

♡ ‘sorry i’m late, but i brought doritos.’ he spun on heels after closing the door, doritos in hand but not for long because as soon as he noticed your cheek glistening the lamplight, he instantly dropped them to rush over to you

♡ ‘eh? (y/n)? are you crying?’ he asked with a harsh voice, which wouldn’t help if you really were crying. instinctively, he reached out for your hand and began pressing kisses to the back of it

♡ he wasn’t really too sure on what exactly he could do or say to comfort you, so he recollected on the time you tried to cheer him up after he lost a big game. you lay beside him on his bed, humming a distant tune that matched the one playing in his ear from his earbuds. one hand threading through his hair while the other cupped his cheek so you could press occasional, soft kisses on his cheek while he set to himself. it was calming, and it definitely worked in making him feel better. usually, it’d take him months to recover after a devastating loss like that, but with you by his side and giving him support, he was back to his normal self in a couple weeks

♡ well, as normal as it gets for kageyama

♡ you gently shook your head, admiring his adorable actions and allowing his to continue as you used your spare hand to wipe away your artificial tears

♡ ‘oh, sweetie, i love you so much.’ you mused, thinking up a way to start your story without sounding foolish

♡ but perhaps you shouldn’t have began your explanation with a term of endearment as his impulse with to promptly throw his arms around you, holding onto your torso tightly

♡ you were taken back for moment, wheezing slightly as kageyama squeezed the air out of you but finally able to speak once he relaxed his arms, ‘tobio! nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. i was just testing to see if i could fake cry or not. i’m not actually crying.’

♡ kageyama’s eyes widened and he paled

♡ you weren’t actually in need of comfort? then why did he just get all soft? for nothing?

♡ ‘no.’ was his simple response which he punctuated with another kiss on the back of your hand

♡ you couldn’t help but giggle, taking advantage of this opperuntiy to reach out and ruffle his hair, ‘yes. i’m seriously okay. i’m happy, actually, because i get to spend my evening watching movies with you!’

♡ surprisngly, he didn’t glare at you for messing up his hair — since it was already untidy — and just took a seat beside you, keeping ahold of your hand as if it was a fragile gem, ‘i don’t believe you.’

♡ you laughed, realising that he was clearly making excuses for openly showing affection and being soft so you just let him, hopping to your feet and tugging your hand away from him so you could grab the doritos he dropped, ‘whatever you say, tobio.’

♡ he pouted but it was only brief as he was soon able to take your hand once more, ‘yeah..’ he grunted, averting his eyes so you didn’t see the blush creeping onto his cheeks, ‘whatever, just put on the stupid movie...stupid (y/n)...i love you..’

375 notes · View notes

mortifyingideal · 3 years

Text

rewriting the script

“It can’t have been that bad,” Anathema said, folding herself into the corner of the sofa.

“It was,” Newt sniffed, wondering if the Thundergun had another round left in it. Would it be difficult to shoot himself with it? Maybe Anathema would do it for him, put them both out of their misery. Since Armageddon hadn’t happened, the two of them had found themselves at a bit of a loss. Shortly after they’d burned the second book, the new tenant had shown up to Jasmine Cottage and insisted they vacate the premises immediately. Newt had offered her a place to stay in London, and then had panicked the entire drive over about whether it was worse to take her back to Shadwell’s place, or put himself through the ordeal of introducing her to his mum.

They’d been squatting at Shadwell’s ever since. Or, well, Newt had been. Anathema had taken over Tracy’s flat, finding keys for each flat stuck in an envelope addressed to both of them that had been taped to Shadwell’s front door. It had been nice, actually. Taking it slow. Being friends, properly, after the— after everything that happened on the day the world didn’t end. They’d even found a new project to work on together, one that didn’t require anyone to take their clothes off or face down several malevolent supernatural entities before tea-time.

It was funny, when they’d eventually thought of it. They’d both been desperate to think of some way to occupy their time, but also were unable to shake themselves of the knowledge that nobody else in the world remembered what they did. That’s when it had hit Newt. Nobody else remembered what had happened. He’d proposed it to Anathema, who had said “like that awful Beatles movie?” and Newt had said “well, er, yeah maybe a bit, but better because Ed Sheeran won’t be in it.”

“Will you just tell me what happened?” Anathema rolled her eyes, picking up the script and flicking through it. “Did they give constructive feedback on why they rejected it?”

Newt groaned, curling up tighter on himself.

“They didn’t.”

“Rude. It’s common courtesy to just give a little—”

“No, Anathema,” Newt unfolded, deciding he just had to get this over with. “They didn’t reject it. They loved it. Said they want to get us on board ASAP. Think they might be able to get some sort of partnership with Amazon, something about appealing to an international audience.”

Anathema’s face turned slack with surprise, and she hit him with the wodge of papers in her hand. “Newt! Oh my god, that’s amazing! Why didn’t you lead with that, you big dummy?”

He was happy she was so happy. Really, he was, and she was right. It was amazing. First pitch, first script— Newt had never had anything come so easy to him in his life.

“Anathema, they want to make changes.”

“Well, yeah, that’s standard, I expected that. And I mean, it is a kinda fantastical story, right? There were parts of it we weren’t actually there for and had to fudge, I knew the angel and demon love story through the years would be a hard sell, but—”

“They loved all that stuff,” Newt laughed sadly, shrugging. “It’s me, Anathema. They don’t love me.”

“You’re my co-writer, I’m not doing it without you,” Anathema was instantly sharp, and Newt was grateful for the loyalty he wasn’t quite sure he’d ever done much to earn.

“No, not me— me,” he specified, tapping the script. “They said that all the other characters had something to them, but that Newton Pulsifer was… a bit of a wet weekend.”

“A… what?”

“A drip. A waste of space. A character no decent actor would ever want to play. ‘All the sex appeal of a Mini Milk that’s been dropped into a pile of cat hair’ one of them said.”

“So they want to… what, write out your character?” Anathema said, frowning and taking his hand. “But then how do they think they’ll be able to resolve the storyline about Agnes and Adultery? The central theme of breaking away from the predestined path and living your own life? Or the computer thing, or—or—”

“They want to make me a sexy lesbian!” Newt finally burst, unable to hold it in anymore. “You too, I mean, both of us. Together. You, you and me. Lesbians. In the show. Sexy, sex-having lesbians.”

“Huh.”

“They said they thought they could get that Fleabag woman for it.”

“Huh.”

“I mean, do you think I’d be more interesting if I was a lesbian?” He asked, and instantly regretted it when he saw the way Anathema wrinkled her nose in response. “Oh my god, I’m going to be a lesbian, aren’t I? You’ve already decided. This is happening.”

“If it helps at all,” Anathema said, patting his knee consolingly, “I think you’re going to make a great lesbian.”

#NEWTON PULSIFER STANS ARISE #am i writing an entire newton pulsifer character study fic?#yes yes i am don't look at me #look i just think he's neat #the line about the mini milk and the cat hair is because of my absolute horror at seeing jack whitehall's naked torso #good omens ficlet #good omens #newton pulsifer #anathema device

236 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

dianashortbank

Diana Shortbank

tsumusamu

welcome ♡

snorespot

half asleep writing

davidalessimdfacs

DAVID ALESSI, MD, FACS

snorespot

half asleep writing