#i recommend headphones for this one but it's still probably not for everyone

[justslowdown]

Once when I came to you,

I already used you, come to my conclusions

So I remain in two, one for self and one for you

#sufjan stevens #i recommend headphones for this one but it's still probably not for everyone

[starlightkun]

➥ word count: 28.9k ➥ warnings: cursing, side character makes one (1) kms joke (“walk into traffic”), probable overuse of the word skeeze for a couple scenes ➥ genre: angst heavy at the beginning then fluff, science fantasy au, soulmate au (red string), speculative fiction, star crossed lovers, a little mystery-ish, artist sungchan ➥ author’s note: omg i’m sooo excited for this one! had a lot of fun with the worldbuilding and such, and as always, with characterizing sungchan. unfortunately due to tumblr’s 1000 block limit (which was created to hurt me personally), i had to do some modifications to this in order to make it fit (i was like 150 blocks over and really didn’t want to split it into two parts for no reason). if you want the authentic, unadulterated experience with original formatting and one extra scene, i highly, highly recommend reading it on ao3

To your horror, the string completed itself, connecting seamlessly to the pinky of the stranger in front of you. The young man looked at you with wonderment, a wide smile coming to his features, brightness and recognition in them. He opened his mouth, presumably to say hello, or whatever soulmates did when they met, but before he could utter anything, you dropped the book and took off at a run.

Humming along to your music, you watched the city pass by, felt the bus start and stop, and were vaguely aware of the same passengers as always getting on and off. You took the same bus every day, Monday through Friday, as you had for the past two years, since you’d been promoted and moved to better accommodations that you could afford with your new pay.

There were regulars on your commute, such as the elderly couple who got on one stop after you on the first Monday every month, and got off at the stop that you knew was closest to the art museum. They sat in the row behind you, and explained to you once that they had been passholders at the museum for years, and that was when new exhibits were rotated in. Or in the front of the bus, a pair of sisters that you had inadvertently seen grow up over the years, who got on some time before your stop, and got off two stops before you in the morning, close to a nearby private school. You could sometimes hear the older one helping the younger with homework, or making last-minute fixes to her hair or uniform.

There were of course lots of office workers as well, who all rushed on and off the bus with promptness at their stops. You recalled fondly the primary school teacher who used to sit next to you, young and always dressed in fun, colorful prints. She had blurted out one morning that she was pregnant, and you were the first person she was telling, even before her husband. She didn’t know how to tell him yet, but was so excited and had to share the news with somebody, even a stranger that she only knew for a few minutes a day on the bus. You’d watched over the months as she started to show, then told you one morning she was just going on a short maternity leave to have her baby boy but would be back sooner than you’d know. She never got back on again. You hoped her son was beautiful and healthy, and still thought of them every so often when you’d look up and pass by her stop.

And then there was you. You sometimes wondered what they thought of you, if any of them did. It would be strange if they didn’t have at least a passing opinion of you. Not because you yourself did anything remarkable on your daily commute. You got on, took the same seat every day, listened to your music with your headphones in, and got off at the same stop. But no matter how normal your routine was, how quaint your occasional conversations with your fellow commuters were, there was something that set you apart.

As signified by the strawberry red jumpsuit you donned five days a week, you worked at The Soulmate Factory. It was technically called the Bureau of Interpersonal Affairs, but everyone just called it The Soulmate Factory, even the employees. Not the most popular place to work, but the work that was done there had to be done nevertheless. All Factory employees were ineligible for matching, in order to maintain the integrity of the Bureau’s image. Your family could never understand why you’d accept a position there; never getting a soulmate of your own, never getting the one person destined for you. But you didn’t see it like that. It’s not like you could never fall in love, find a partner to spend your life with, or be fulfilled in any millions of other ways.

The bus jerked to a stop again, and the doors swung open. You stood up and hurried off. You were the only passenger to depart here, as usual. A building loomed in the distance, all flashing windows and pink marble. Following in a few other coworkers in matching red jumpsuits, you hurried up the stairs, catching up to a familiar head of hair on the way up.

“Morning, Jaemin!” You chirped, nudging his arm with yours as you fell into step with him.

“Oh, hey, Y/N! Morning!” He offered you a bright smile, stepping off at the same floor as you and walking over to your neighboring desks.

“Hey, did you ever read that book I leant you?” You asked, dropping your backpack off at your desk before heading for the breakroom together. There was always a quiet buzz in the morning that you liked, when everybody was still mellow from waking up, but excited to start the day.

He hissed regretfully, a sheepish smile already coming to his face, telling you everything you needed to know, “Well...”

“You haven’t touched it since the day I gave it to you.”

“I’m going to! Promise!”

“It’s coming up on my re-read list,” you warned him, starting a fresh pot of coffee. “I only have like four books ahead of it. That gives you like, four weeks max.”

“You need to rot your brain with some TV or something.” He shook his head teasingly, reaching up into a cabinet and pulling down a box of cereal.

“Hey, isn’t that—”

“Na Jaemin, if you value your life, you’ll put that box down now.” The stern voice of Huang Renjun cracked through the air.

Jaemin turned around, hiding the box behind his back as he offered your other coworker a sickly sweet smile. “What box?”

“Come here, you son of a—”

“Hey, let’s not commit homicide before the weekly agenda meeting, maybe?” You suggested loudly over their squabbling, as Renjun had just grabbed Jaemin by the collar. “Because I’m pretty sure if you kill Jaemin, they’ll just reassign you his work, Renjun. Might want to see what your workload is like first.”

Renjun yanked the box of cereal out of Jaemin’s hand then, holding it to his chest protectively and scowling. “Fine. You better hope that you’re on data synthesis, Jaemin.”

He walked out still clutching the box to his chest.

“He’s just going to eat it dry by the fistful, isn’t he?” You sighed, starting to pour yourself a cup of coffee.

“Definitely,” Jaemin confirmed. “And I’m suddenly really wanting to do some data synthesis this week.”

After getting dismissed from the weekly agenda meeting—during which Jaemin was assigned data synthesis, and Renjun got profile compiling—you headed back to your desks. You weren’t assigned anything because your job was the same every day. You were on a very specific career trajectory at The Soulmate Factory after showing promise in the typical six months of entry-level training for new employees. Following those six months, your fellow trainees went on to start their jobs, while you went through an additional two and a half years of specialized training for your position: matchmaking.

You didn’t sit down at your computer when you got back to your desk, simply placing your nearly empty coffee cup on it before taking off down the hall to the room in which you actually did most of your work.

Swiping your badge at the access panel, the door clicked to unlock, and you pushed it open. There were a couple of other matchmakers already in there, who didn’t offer you a single glance or any indication that they were even aware of your presence. Sitting at your station, you were face-to-face with a quaintly archaic-looking computer. Compared to the newest monitors at every desk in the main bullpen, which could display images in a resolution so crisp it was hard to tell the difference between that and real life, the small, square glass and pixelated text that was in front of you seemed so out of place. But this was the system. Pressing the Enter button on your keyboard, your screen came to life, already giving you your first match.

N!#83LPd5D4ZR$PYQ^KLT6WnY##4GYVm74v^f@96#q#hheeRYgLLf3Ft9KQw

‘Matchmaker’ was a misnomer, really. You didn’t set people up to be soulmates whatsoever. The computer gave you the results, all you did was read them. Take the seemingly random string of letters, numbers, and characters, and parse out the meaning. Your training consisted of watching other matchmakers work, then trying your hand at doing some on your own, being told that you were wrong or right, with no explanation as to why either way—until you stopped getting them wrong. And whenever it would be your turn to train a matchmaker, that would be exactly how you’d train them. Because there was no way to tell them what exactly you were seeing, or how to do it. They just had to do. The longest part was looking up the profile numbers in the program, selecting them, and sending off the match results. As soon as you submitted that one, your next match came up.

jkD%NVSC3%JCacN%vWS5#k!Z4GqGW#ZfMyqGUfc@wQT5L5vK2uWU5N*5Lg&6

Your body moved as if by itself, in understanding with the machine, the program. The matchmakers often talked about entering a sort of trance when working, becoming one mind with the computer, completely unaware of their surroundings, time, or bodily needs. Only the next match. That’s why all of your screens had to be simultaneously forced into a shut-off at lunchtime, or else none of you would take a lunch break, then again at the end of the workday.

Blinking a few times to readjust from the hours spent interfacing with the program, you looked around you at the other matchmakers slowly getting up from their seats as well. With a sigh, you stood up and shuffled out after them. Jaemin was still at his desk when you got back to yours, fervently clacking away at his keyboard. You grabbed your coffee mug, went to wash it out in the breakroom and set it up to dry, then returned to your desk. Swallowing in an attempt to wet your dry throat, you asked him, “So how was your thrilling day of data synthesis?”

“Not over yet,” he groaned, scrolling down in his spreadsheet. “Hey, wait up a minute, would you?”

Checking the time on your watch, you nodded. “My bus doesn’t come for another twenty-five. They let us out early again.”

“Yeah, I heard the Director on the phone to somebody a while ago. He sounded pissed. Apparently, there’s some concerns over the Factory’s energy usage. They must be cutting you guys a few minutes early every day to try to help since you still use old hardware, right?”

“Mm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Yeah, could be.”

“You’d think we’d be the one agency that wouldn’t be hit with budget cuts,” he scoffed, clicking a few things before his monitor displayed the login screen again. He spun around in his chair, giving you a wide smile. “Alright, ready?”

“Sure.” You grabbed your backpack from your seat. Jaemin and you headed down the stairs, awash in pinks and oranges from the sunset streaming in from outside.

“So, I already know what the answer is going to be, but I have to be able to say that I asked, alright?” Your coworker began, making you scrunch up your face in confusion. “My sister wanted me to ask if you’ve done hers yet? Na Minhee?”

You sighed, “Jaemin, you know I don’t know any of that—” “I know—” “—it’s all just… stuff. And you’ve compiled profiles, those are completely anonymous.”

“I know, I know,” he reassured you. “I just needed to be able to tell her that I asked, and that’s what you said. She wouldn’t take my word for it.”

“She’d know if hers has already been done, anyway.” You held up your hand, wiggling your pinky finger. “Why ask you?”

“Because she’s impatient.”

“Well, I can’t help her.” You shrugged. “It’ll happen when it happens.”

“I’ll tell her that. Thanks!”

“Yeah, no problem, dude.”

“When does your bus come?”

You checked the time again. “Fifteen minutes or so.”

“You want me to wait with you?” He offered, looking around the empty bus stop. “Kind of dark.”

“I’m alright, thanks. Go break your sister’s heart, champ.” You gave him a mock punch on the shoulder.

On your own again, you took your phone and headphones out, popping one earbud in your ear as you went to choose your playlist. As you scrolled, tapped, and swiped through your phone to try to pick the perfect song, some fuzz fell from your jumpsuit onto your right pinky finger, and you absentmindedly shook it off as your focus stayed on your music library. But it was stubborn, and the red fleck didn’t budge. You wiped the digit on your pants, eyes on where you had finally gotten the perfect choice, the song starting up as you lifted your now-clean hand back up.

Except it was still there. You looked at your hand for the first time, really looked at it, and felt your stomach drop. A thin, bright red string, the same color as your jumpsuit, was tied around your right pinky finger, just above the juncture where the finger met your hand. The string hung off in the air, becoming transparent and disappearing altogether less than a finger’s length away. You turned your hand over, palm to back to palm to back, and the string moved with it, the end fluttering with each of your movements. Stupidly, you tried to grab it, as if to pull it off, but when you took hold of the silken thread and gave it a yank, it didn’t budge. For a split second, amputation came to mind, but you quickly pushed those thoughts away. There were stories of people losing fingers or entire limbs and their strings reappearing on the other hand, or in new places altogether if they had no hands at all.

You looked around for any of your coworkers. Nobody else except the two people on either end of the string could see it, but you still didn’t want anybody to be observing your behavior, and then have to try to explain said behavior right now. It was easy to explain why you were doing what you were doing—you just got a red string; but not how—you weren’t supposed to get one. Ever. The area around you was empty, the majority of your coworkers driving, taking the subway, or not having left work yet. You looked over your shoulder, at the pink marble building looming in the distance.

The squeal of brakes and hiss of compressed air as the doors of a bus were flung open made you turn around. Rushing up the steps onto the bus, you then plopped into your usual seat, keeping your backpack on your lap and instinctively tucking your right hand between the bag and your body to keep the string hidden. You didn’t know who could possibly be your soulmate now, you had to be vigilant. You didn’t relax until you were safely tucked away in your apartment, door locked behind you, no plans to see any other humans for the rest of the day.

The next morning, you kept your right hand hidden away as much as possible on your commute, in your pockets, behind your bag, under your thigh. You didn’t feel remotely safe until you were in the matchmaking room, at your station. Even then, it took you longer than normal to stop from looking at your pinky and actually focus on the first match up on your screen. Once you had, everything else faded away like usual, and you could only think about reading the matches.

vLZD%v7^XftyvnM6HcxszgUbT6EaPaza41tJtv%#HFby%5Y2rWdujYUj8X21

At lunch, you typically would’ve taken your packed lunch to a nearby public park to eat, but that was too risky. So you took it to the breakroom, sitting at the small table and taking out one of your books from your bag. A few other coworkers came in and out to use the microwave or retrieve their own lunch from the fridge, but nobody bothered you as you read. You finished your food rather quick, and found yourself a bit too distracted to focus on your book. The red string on your finger was back in the forefront of your mind. Checking the time, you saw that you still had over half of your break left. With a sigh, you shut your book and walked back over to your desk next to Jaemin’s.

The floor was pretty empty, only a couple of your coworkers left who either took early or later lunches. You turned on the desktop computer, waiting for it to start up before quickly signing on. Opening up the program where profiles were compiled to be fed into the matchmaking system, you chewed on the inside of your cheek thoughtfully, clicking around on the controls. During the basic training you’d received over five years ago, you’d been shown how to compile and enter a profile into the database, and you obviously searched them up from your matchmaking station. But these were all profiles that hadn’t been matched yet, that didn’t have red strings. You needed to get into wherever the profiles that had been successfully matched were. If they were kept somewhere at all.

After poking around some more in the application, you determined that either you didn’t have the technical know-how to access that information, the administrative access to do so, or that information wasn’t stored in the first place. Exiting out of the program with a sigh, you dropped your chin into your palm, scrunching your eyes and nose up as you continued thinking. It felt like it was right there, right on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t grab it for some reason. The weekly agenda meeting, something about the weekly agenda meeting—Jaemin was assigned data synthesis. They compiled information on all kinds of stuff regarding matched soulmates: average time to meet after the strings appear, get married, have kids, how many kids, length of time they’re together prior to death, the list goes on. That couldn’t come from nowhere. They had to keep track of soulmates somehow, right?

You quickly opened the Internet browser, going to the Bureau’s website and finding the ‘Studies and Statistics’ page. All of the things you were thinking about were there, complete with fancy little graphics. It didn’t tell you anything about where this stuff was stored internally, but this meant that it had to be, somehow, somewhere. Which meant that your match had to be somewhere, and if you could just find it, then you could—

What? Undo it somehow? It had to be possible. But first you had to find out how it happened in the first place, which meant laying eyes on the match itself, at least. You needed some kind of starting point, and that felt like as good as any.

At the end of the day, the matchmakers were let out early again, and you waited up at your desk as Jaemin was still working. He looked over his shoulder at you curiously. “You need something, Y/N? I don’t have your book, sorry.”

“No, I have a question. But you can finish your work first.”

He made an interested noise, and turned back to his screen. After entering a few more things into his spreadsheet, he pressed save, then exited out with a satisfied groan. He shut down his computer and leaned back, audibly cracking his back. “Fucking finally! If I ever have to look at another number again, I’ll walk into traffic.”

You chuckled as the two of you set off. “Data synthesis that bad?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed one of his eyes. “Anyway, what’d you want to ask me?”

“It was actually about data synthesis…”

“No!” He whined, shaking his head fervently.

“One question! One question!” You begged.

“Fine…”

“The data that you use, how do you get that? Like, where do you get it from?”

He looked at you, squinting with confusion. “From soulmates that have already been matched?”

“Then the Factory keeps records of matches after the strings have been triggered.”

“Yeah, we do.”

“Where? Is it a separate database from the one that you enter new profiles into? Or is it part of the matchmaking program?”

“I mean, it’s probably its own thing? I don’t know, I get the numbers in my data synthesis project assignments. If I need more, or something different, I tell the project manager and he gets it for me.”

“Huh.” You kept the disappointment off your face, as well as curiosity. While he didn’t know a lot, what he didn’t know actually was helpful to you. “Okay, thanks.”

“That was more than one question.”

“Right, sorry.”

“What’s going on? Why the interest in data synthesis all of a sudden?”

“Just curious, since you guys seem to hate it so much.”

“It’s… mind-numbing, to say the least.”

“Here’s hoping next week you’re on profile compiling.”

“Fingers crossed,” he sighed. “Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

The next few days passed without incident. Your intervals of snooping around on your desktop computer during your lunch breaks were fruitless in finding wherever completed matches were stored, and soon it was Friday evening, and the work week was over. Not even a crisis like this could make you work late on a Friday. You realized when you got home that you were out of groceries, and ordered delivery to your apartment. Can’t risk someone at the restaurant being your soulmate.

Saturday morning you woke up and left early to go grocery shopping, hopefully before most anybody would be out and about. Well, before one person in particular would be awake—your soulmate. Only problem was, you didn’t know who that was, so you had to avoid pretty much everybody. As you walked through the streets keeping your hands crossed and tucked under your arms, you kept your head down, eyes focused only on your feet. If you couldn’t see anybody’s hands and couldn’t possibly see a red string, hopefully they wouldn’t see yours.

Except as you rushed through the streets, you passed by your favorite small bookstore, with its doors wide open, and a sign out front on the sidewalk advertising a huge sale, 70% off a table of books right by the doorway. You couldn’t help but stop—just for a second—to check it out, spotting a title by one of your favorite authors that you’d been meaning to read but hadn’t yet. Picking up the book to look at the price and turning it over in your hands to skim the blurb on the back, you were barely aware of the sounds of some young men playing with a Frisbee at the park across the street, their yells fading into the din of the waking city.

That was, until the purple, plastic disc came skittering across the pavement to a stop right at your feet, and a tall man jogged up after it, still calling to his friend over his shoulder, “Nice aim, Anton! You almost took this poor woman’s head off!”

You missed what his friend said in response as you were already looking up from the Frisbee with the intent to tell him that you were quite alright, then your eyes got caught on a thin red loop around his pinky finger. Snapping your gaze down to your own hand, which was still holding the book, then back to his as he stood now right in front of you, your eyes widened with alarm.

To your horror, the string completed itself, connecting seamlessly to the pinky of the stranger in front of you. The young man looked at you with wonderment, a wide smile coming to his features, brightness and recognition in them. He opened his mouth, presumably to say hello, or whatever soulmates did when they met, but before he could utter anything, you dropped the book and took off at a run. You sprinted away, turning down streets at random, until your legs were burning and you had a stitch in your side. Ducking around another shop, you hid behind the building to catch your breath, sure that you had lost him. Your heartbeat was thudding loudly in your ears, and you habitually tried to shake off that stupid, pesky red string again.

“Look—” A voice suddenly registering right over your shoulder made you jump and scramble back. The man had found you, holding his hands out in front of him like he was trying to calm a wild animal or a spooked horse. His chest was heaving as he was as out of breath as you were (presumably from running after you). There was a bewildered, confused look in his wide eyes as he kept himself between you and the only way out of the alley you had unintentionally backed yourself into. “I don’t normally chase women through the streets, sorry.”

You stayed silent as you looked between him and the exit. The red string hung between you, painfully obvious.

“I just… wanted to talk, you know,” he continued, gesturing to said string. “I’m Sungchan.”

You shook your head, clenching your jaw tightly to avoid making any kind of sound.

“What?” He tilted his head. “You… won’t tell me your name?”

You stared at him, unmoving.

“You know what, we got off on a bad foot, and clearly this is not a good time for you.” Sungchan stepped away from the alley entrance entirely. “Bye for now.”

Taking hesitant, shuffling steps, uncertain that he was actually going to let you leave, you kept your eyes laser focused on him until you were out of the alley, at which point you promptly booked it down the road again. You didn’t stop until you could no longer breathe, your legs shook and threatened to give out any second, and you had tears streaming down your face from the wind blowing into them.

That day you looked up how to get rid of a red string. You knew it was stupid, impossible to do at home. You literally worked at The Soulmate Factory, you were a matchmaker, for fuck’s sake, you were the one giving them out in the first place.

None of it worked, of course. Not meditating, praying, attempting to light it on fire, soaking your finger in a mixture of various oils and herbs from your spice cabinet, scrubbing really hard with the coarse side of a sponge, or crying for thirty minutes straight (that last one was just you being frustrated, no Internet listicle or sketchy guru suggested that). It was still there after everything, as pristine as when it appeared less than a week ago. Less than a week ago. Much faster than average, according to the statistics that you had just looked up the other day. The average time from getting the red string to meeting was seven months and eighteen days, with some taking several years. And yours just had to be within five days. You felt like you could cry again, if you didn’t already have a throbbing headache from how much you had done that earlier.

Now, you were sitting under the spray of your shower, holding your knees to your chest, trying not to look at it. You couldn’t look at your finger, at the red string, but if you closed your eyes, you just saw his face—Sungchan.

On Monday, you continued your investigation with renewed vigor. When you swiped into the matchmaking room, you didn’t go to your station, instead you headed for the back, where there was a short flight of stairs up to an office. Knocking on the door, you waited for the familiar voice inside to beckon you in.

“Come in.”

Pushing your way in, you nodded politely to your supervisor, “Good morning, Ms. Kwon.”

“Good morning, Y/N.” She brought her hands down from where they had been poised over her keyboard to rest in her lap. “How are you?”

“I’m well,” you lied. “How are you?”

“Fine. What brings you to my office this morning?”

“I… have sort of a weird question, if that’s alright.”

She gestured to the two chairs opposite her. “Of course.”

You sat in one, making a conscious effort to keep your knee from bouncing nervously.

“What is your question?” She prompted you.

“There’s never any mistakes, right?”

“Mistakes? No, you’re all trained right.” Ms. Kwon arched an eyebrow. “Do you think you’ve made a mistake, Y/N?”

“No, not the matchmakers. I mean… the computer does whatever it does with the information it’s given, right? That we collect?” You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you were about to say. “What if… it gets the wrong information? Wouldn’t it all be wrong if it’s given the wrong stuff in the first place?”

“The profiles we compile are extremely rudimentary, and that isn’t all the information it uses. The computer does more than we can ever know.”

“But what if… there’s an extra profile in there that was never supposed to be in there?”

“Like a person that doesn’t exist? How would a fake person even get created in the first place?”

“No I mean like—You know how Factory employees are taken out of the program? What if somehow, someone got missed? Like, their match happened right before their first day or something crazy. So they got matched up when they weren’t supposed to.”

“I’ve never heard of that happening.” She shook her head, leaning back in her seat and crossing her legs at the knee. “As soon as we receive someone’s application, their profile is removed from the program. If they’re not hired, their profile is put back in. If they are hired, the data is permanently destroyed.”

“Where’s it stored when it’s temporarily removed during the application process, then?”

She didn’t answer your question, her face turning concerned instead of simply confused as before. “Y/N, what’s going on? Do you know of a Factory employee who’s been matched up?”

You shook your head, trying not to deny it too quickly or with too much fervor. “No, I just—Got a brain itch about it, I don’t know. Seems too… uncertain.”

“I can assure you, no Factory employee has ever been matched up. Accidentally or otherwise,” she replied smoothly, a reassuring smile coming to her features. “You can rest easy; no mistakes are made here.”

“Can you just… answer my question? Please?” You pleaded, picking at your nails to avoid messing with your pinky. “I won’t be able to sleep tonight.”

“Alright, to soothe your brain itch,” she agreed, sounding amused. “It’s another list in the profiles database that we import into your matchmaking program, except only personnel with a certain clearance can view, add, and remove profiles from the list. Once a round of interviews has been completed, the applicants on the list are either marked as hired or not. If they’re marked as hired, their profile information is permanently destroyed upon their first day of training. If they’re marked as not, it’s returned to the main database that everyone has access to.”

“One more thing?”

“Sure.”

“Once a match is made, where does that information go? Like, the reports, the profiles, is it stored anywhere?”

“We maintain all of those records in another program. Those with higher clearance have access to it, for security purposes, since profiles are de-anonymized in it. Data synthesis uses them for reports frequently.”

“Okay, thanks.” You offered her a feigned, relieved smile, then tacked on a quick fib, “Just wanted a little refresh, in case we got any new hires anytime soon.”

“Already looking to train, Y/N?”

“Oh, maybe…” You laughed nervously, as if shy about being caught with your eye on a promotion already and not anxious from having to discretely interrogate your supervisor.

“You always were ambitious. And wanting to learn more about the program and the Bureau… I like it.” Ms. Kwon nodded her approval. “Feel free to ask about any other brain itches you get, okay?”

“Right, thanks.” You stood up, giving her a polite bow. “I should get to my station. Thank you again, ma’am.”

As you hurried down to your matchmaking station, you easily came to the realization of what you’d need to do next. There was no way you’d be able to just wait until you were promoted to a position with high enough security clearance for the post-matched program, that sounded like it would be people of Ms. Kwon’s position and above. You’d have to get into the program using one of their access points. Somehow. But you didn’t have time to brainstorm a plan for that at the moment, you had matches to read. You sank down into the comfortable, posture-saving chair, and let your mind mesh with the computer as the first one loaded up on the screen.

The next day, you waited at your bus stop, leaning against the shelter and eating your apple one-handed. Pedestrians would occasionally pass by, but your area was mainly young families, so most residents drove their children to daycare or school, then either returned home, or went to work themselves. There was the occasional parent who would jog by with a stroller, or pulling a stroller hitched to the back of a bicycle, but for the most part it was just you and your apple, which you were nearly done with. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a lone jogger approaching, and took a step back to allow him to pass, eyes still down on your phone and apple as your bus hadn’t arrived yet. Except this jogger slowed to a stop in front of you. You followed the red string from the hand that held your apple core up to a somewhat familiar face, looking down at you in mild confusion.

He was admittedly sweatier now, pieces of hair curling and sticking to the skin at his hairline, and his t-shirt sported a damp spot starting at his collar going down the middle of his chest. But this was definitely Sungchan, as signified by the red string connecting your right pinky to his left. He lifted the hem of his shirt to quickly pat drops of sweat away from his face and took one of his earbuds out as he offered you an easygoing smile.

“Hi. Feeling better?” He asked, his tone light and teasing.

“Why are you here?” You practically snapped. You thought you’d be safe at your bus stop of all places, which you were at every day. You knew your neighborhood, the people on your bus, but he still somehow showed up. “I-I take the same bus every day, at the same time, and I’ve never seen you jogging in the morning!”

“Oh, yeah, I stayed at my sister’s place last night, she lives around here.” Sungchan casually gestured over his shoulder at the general vicinity. “So I had to take a different route than normal for my morning run. You live in this area?”

You stared at him, jaw clenched.

“Sorry, probably sounded a little weird asking you that, huh?” He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Uhm, it’s just that you said you’re at this same bus stop every day at the same time, so I figured you, uhm… never mind. I’m Jung Sungchan, I realized I didn’t properly introduce myself last time. I’d offer my hand or hug you or something but I’m a bit sweaty…”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to think of how to politely phrase the everything you had to tell him, but he just kept talking.

“I’d like to uh, you know, know your name, too. Since we’re uhm, you know… soulmates? And uh—”

“Sungchan!” You cut him off, and he immediately shut his mouth. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t need to know my name.”

“What? What are you talking about? But we’re—”

“I’m not supposed to have a soulmate!” You gestured wildly to your uniform. “This was a mistake! An error! I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have ever happened. I’ll get it fixed, okay? I’ll figure out how to undo it, and make sure you get put back in.”

He frowned thoughtfully. “I thought the Factory didn’t make mistakes.”

“The computer doesn’t. But somehow, somebody must have put a paper in the wrong stack, or not deleted something when they should’ve, I don’t know! But I’ll fix it.”

The bus finally arrived then with its usual screech of brakes and hiss of the pneumatic doors, and you stepped away from Sungchan towards it.

“I have to go.” You told him with finality, tossing your apple core in a nearby trashcan and boarding the bus without waiting to hear if he had something else to say.

Without having to avoid the entire world now, you actually took your lunch today. But as soon as you stepped outside of the building and turned from the front doors, you spotted a familiar tall figure standing awkwardly off to the side, no longer in sweaty running gear. You made a beeline for Sungchan, grabbing him by the elbow and pulling him to the most secluded corner of the open space as you could, away from all your coworkers who were heading off to take their own break.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You hissed at him, constantly glancing around to make sure nobody was close enough to hear you two.

His face did look genuinely regretful, though exasperated at the same time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know how else to find you.”

“Why are you trying to find me?”

He held up his left pinky. You pushed it back down. “I’m working on it!”

“No, I—” He let out a frustrated groan, rubbing his face. “Can we like… I don’t know, talk, or something?”

“Why?”

“Don’t you think I should get a say in you undoing this?”

You inhaled sharply. “You’re right, Sungchan. I’m sorry. We should talk.”

“Finally, thank you.”

Checking the time for a moment, you then offered, “I have fifty-five minutes left of my lunch break. Do you want to join me?”

“Sure, sure.”

You led him away from The Soulmate Factory, along a familiar path. There was a riverside public park nearby, and on days when you packed your lunch, and it was nice out, you would eat outside.

Sungchan broke the silence, “Will you ever tell me your name?”

“Y/N. Y/L/N Y/N,” you informed him flatly. “Happy?”

“Y/N,” he repeated, as if savoring your name. “Okay, thanks.”

The park was only a couple minutes’ walk, and you had a very specific destination in mind once you two got there.

“I packed a lunch today, sorry,” you said quietly, sitting down on the wall overlooking the river, your feet swinging in the air.

Sungchan sat down next to you. “That’s fine. I can grab something later.”

Opening your lunch bag, you grabbed your sandwich and held out half to him. He accepted it gingerly. “Thank you.”

“I haven’t figured out how to undo it yet, but I can enter a profile into the program easy, so once I do undo it, don’t worry about me putting you back in. You’ll be all set,” you reassured him, taking a bite.

“You’re still talking like this is a done deal. Undoing it.”

“I’d be fixing someone’s mistake, Sungchan. That’s what you do at work. When you see a piece of paper is misfiled, or a decimal is in the wrong place, or a typo on a presentation, you fix it, even if you didn’t do it.”

“It’s just… human error?”

“Yes.”

“That’s all that’s happened here, you think?”

“Whoever was supposed to take my profile out didn’t for some reason, and the computer got it when it wasn’t supposed to,” you confirmed emphatically.

“How does it work, the program? And the profiles, and the computer? All of it?” He questioned.

You gave him as simplified of a version as you could, “Profiles and a bunch of other data points get put into the program, which imports them into the computer. The computer spits out the resulting matches, I—we, matchmakers read them and submit the match reports, triggering the red strings.”

“So it wasn’t given any incorrect information about you or me? Nobody tampered with the system to force it to match us, or falsified a match?”

“No, you can’t do that. It’s impossible.”

“The only hiccup, in your opinion, was that it was given your data at all.”

“Yes, Factory employees aren’t allowed to—”

“Whose rule is that?”

“The Bureau—”

“So, it’s literally just bureaucracy?”

“I like my job,” you huffed, frustrated that he wasn’t seeing the blatantly obvious mistake that had happened. “It’s a rule for a reason. Factory employees are taken out of the program so the public doesn’t think employees are rigging their matches.”

“Can’t rig your soulmate if you don’t get one,” he scoffed.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“You say that like having one would be the worst thing in the world!” Sungchan replied incredulously.

“It is for me! Because do you know what would happen if people at the Bureau found out this happened?” You looked at him with wide, pointed eyes. “Just losing my job would probably be the best outcome. And who knows what would happen to you!”

“But—”

“I’m sorry, Sungchan. I’m sure you had imagined all of this, your red string, and the person at the other end of it, going a lot different. And I’m sure it will, when I fix everything.” You stood up, cutting your conversation and lunch short. “Don’t come to my work again, okay? For both our sakes.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry,” he muttered, looking out at the water.

Back at the Factory, you finished eating your lunch at your desk, then shuffled back to the matchmaking room. After swiping in, you realized that you were pretty early, the first one back. Curious, you peered up at Ms. Kwon’s office. She was in there, of course. No way would you be able to attempt to use her computer to access the higher-clearance data. You sank into the chair at your station with a deep sigh. Drumming your fingers along the desktop, you let your eyes flutter shut. You’d have to wait for the others to get back from lunch for the power to be returned to the screens. In the meantime, you could just ruminate.

“Y/N?” Ms. Kwon’s voice came from the direction of her office. “Back so soon?”

You opened your eyes back up, turning to look at her. You nodded sheepishly. “Quick eater…”

“I feel like I’ve seen you in the breakroom with a book before. Nothing today?”

“Forgot it at home.”

“Alright, well… have fun, I suppose.” She turned to go back into her office.

“There’s no way to undo a match, is there?” You blurted out, stopping her in her tracks. She turned back around to look at you curiously as you continued, “Once we press submit on the computer, that’s it?”

Ms. Kwon cocked her head, leaning against the railing at the top of the stairs. “You should’ve been told this in training… No, there isn’t a way to ‘undo’ a match. We aren’t even matching them, just reporting on what the computer says. All the reports do is trigger the strings. The two people are soulmates regardless of the computer. We just intervene so they can find each other.”

You gulped and nodded. “Of course. I knew that… I… I don’t know. Thank you, Ms. Kwon.”

“Another brain itch?”

“Yeah, I guess,” you forced out a couple of chuckles to cover up the dread you felt on the inside.

“Alright. Remember, ‘The Soulmate Factory’ isn’t very accurate. We don’t make soulmates here, they’re already out there.”

“Right, yeah. Terrible nickname, huh?”

She shrugged. “It’s cute. Good for branding. I’ve got a few things to work on, unless you have any other burning questions for me?”

“No, Ms. Kwon, that’s it. Thank you, again.”

“No problem, Y/N.” And with that, she retreated into her office once more.

Dragging your feet back out to your desk at the end of the workday, you chewed on your bottom lip, contemplating pretending to have extra work so you could stay late and try to sneak onto Ms. Kwon’s computer to access the matched profiles. But her office was behind a door with swipe access, it would log that you swiped in after hours. A digital breadcrumb trail.

“Hey,” Jaemin got your attention as you sat in your chair and stared at your screen. You spun your chair around to look at him, lifting your eyebrows in a silent question. “Who was that guy?”

Your blood turned cold. “Huh? Who? When? What guy?”

“Oh now that wasn’t suspicious,” he snorted. “The guy that was waiting for you at lunch whose ass you looked like you were about to kick.”

Oh God. Jaemin saw Sungchan. Who else saw him? You had to assume everybody. You stood up from your chair hastily, fully intent on running away. “Just—Nobody, it doesn’t matter.”

Jaemin gasped, then dropped his voice, “Y/N, you didn’t...”

“Didn’t what?” You squeaked, now ready to stick around. You had to know what he knew, which was obviously the truth.

“You totally did.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue. “Never a good idea, getting involved with people who are destined, even if they don’t have their string yet. Because one day they will.”

Of course. He thought, perfectly reasonably, that you had dated, slept with, done something with somebody who was going to get their red string someday, while you would remain without it forever. You swallowed down your sigh of relief, and instead crossed your arms over your chest, quickly switching trains of thought to follow this new cover story.

“And that’s what I told him, Jaemin, I swear,” you whispered insistently.

Your friend finished up and switched off his desktop then, giving you a frank look. “How many times, Y/N?”

“I told him like a hundred times—”

“No. You know what I mean.”

You hurried down the stairs, Jaemin right with you, rolling your eyes as you tried to think of a number that wasn’t excessive, but messy enough to possibly warrant a guy turning up at your work. “I don’t know... a few! A girl’s got needs, Jaemin!”

He chuckled and shook his head again, pushing the front door open for you. He turned suddenly, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning you around to face the building with him, then gestured grandly up and down the entirety of The Soulmate Factory. “A whole ten floors to pick from, Y/N. No messy red strings to worry about after.”

“Yeah, just awkward encounters at work,” you scoffed.

“I heard Park Jisung on the second floor thinks you’re cute.”

“What is this? Middle school?” You elbowed him to get him off of you, ducking out from under his arm and taking off towards your bus stop at a speed walk.

He easily kept pace with you. “I’m just looking out for you. Rule Number 1 of dating with no soulmate: Stay away from people with one.”

“Uh-huh, noted,” you replied shortly. “You done?”

“Are you?”

“Yes! God!”

“Alright.” He was still grinning, clearly finding the whole scenario amusing overall. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Bye, Jaemin.”

A couple nights later found you rooting through the frozen section of a corner store. You’d gotten home from work after yet another day of getting nowhere with this stupid red string and had wanted nothing more than to wallow in misery with a pint of ice cream. Except you had none in your freezer, and your usual corner store was out of your favorite flavor, so you had to go to one several blocks over.

After paying for the ice cream and grabbing a plastic spoon from the available utensils, you hurried out of the shop. Turning sharply onto a side street to take a shortcut back to your apartment, you nearly tripped over somebody sitting on the sidewalk curb, their feet in the street. They were wearing a hoodie with the hood up, and you jumped back as you went to apologize. Then they looked at you over their shoulder, and you stopped your apologies, flabbergasted and a little pissed off at the universe at this point.

“Oh my god, again?” You stared at Sungchan, eyes bugging out of your head.

“Okay, ouch,” he retorted. He had his own pint of ice cream and plastic spoon in hand, about two-thirds of the way done.

“Sorry, I was just… I wanted to drown my sorrowsin ice cream alone.”

He turned away from you, resting his arms on his knees as he went back to looking down at the pavement. “Well, I’ve got dibs on this street corner for sadly eating ice cream.”

You winced. “Sungchan… I’m…”

Sorry? Was that it? Not for wanting to undo the string. Sorry that this all happened to him in the first place, and that he was now sadly eating ice cream by himself on a street corner? Absolutely. Even though you wanted to remove your red string that connected you two as soulmates, you still felt for the guy as a person, and you felt bad just leaving him here. In a different set of circumstances, you could see the two of you being friends. Against your better judgment, you sat down next to him on the curb, opening your pint of ice cream. He looked at you suspiciously out of the corner of his eye, and you caught a glimpse of his damp, bloodshot eyes in the light of the streetlamp above you two before he focused them back down on his own ice cream.

He shoveled a spoonful into his mouth before speaking again. “We’re going to keep running into each other, don’t you get that?”

“Yeah, I know, the string always gets tighter again. But I didn’t think our string would be like a fucking rubber band.” You shook your head, licking the lid of your container clean. “Honestly, this is kind of ridiculous.”

There was a moment of awkward silence as he ate another bite of ice cream.

“The computer doesn’t make mistakes.” He stated bluntly. “That’s what you said the second time we met. Do you actually think that? That what goes on in there is making soulmates? Finding them? Whatever.”

“I-I mean, yeah.” You carefully carved out your first spoonful from the pristine surface. “We do analytics and data gathering post-matching and… yeah, it works.”

He was quiet as you took your bite of ice cream into your mouth.

“Then we’re soulmates.”

You couldn’t swallow quickly enough, mind reeling at you tried to think of anything to say. “But my profile—”

“Whatever may have happened before the computer got our data doesn’t fucking matter, it still did all the same stuff that it does when giving you all the matches that you read,” Sungchan cut you off, and you saw a fresh tear catch the light as it rolled down his cheek. “And it figured that we were soulmates. But suddenly you’re doubting it? Suddenly it’s not right? What’s so fucking special about you?”

“I…”

“Has somebody’s profile even been through the computer twice? Ever? And you want to just stick me back in there. What if it rejects me because it already processed me once? What if I don’t get another match? What if it breaks the whole damn program? The whole fucking Factory?” He wasn’t yelling, but his voice was strong and hoarse at the same time, and you froze up as you felt the anger and hurt in him.

You didn’t have an answer for him. You always had an answer. You always knew, at work, when reading the matches, you just always knew, but you didn’t now. You had nothing, it was all blank, empty in your mind. You swallowed thickly, staring at him as he looked over at you furiously. White hot shame and guilt made your skin prickle.

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly.

Sungchan put his pint down on the pavement, then covered your hands with his. Even as you held onto your ice cream, you could feel that his skin was colder than yours. “I’m trying to understand you, Y/N, but this isn’t making any sense to me.”

“I thought I’d have a choice,” you told him shakily, slowly pulling your hands away. “I thought I’d be able to choose…”

He blinked, and his face twisted up with pain as he took his hands back. He grabbed his nearly empty carton, standing up and blotting out the lamp light as he towered over you.

“Trust me, you’ve got a choice. A big one.” He sighed bitterly, tossing his container in a nearby trash can. “I’ve said my piece. Goodnight.”

“Where are you going?” You called after him as he started down the sidewalk.

“Somewhere. When you’re ready, you know how to find me.” He lifted his left arm up and waved his hand, his end of the red string fluttering back and forth in the air with the movement.

You watched him continue to walk down the street, not slowing down or looking over his shoulder once. It was only when you could no longer see him that scalding tears welled up in your vision and stung your eyes. You didn’t bother wiping them away as they streamed down your face and fell onto your shirt, leaving dark patches in their wake. Despite the ice cream being your original intent for coming out, you suddenly didn’t have an appetite, burying your face in your arms to cry alone on the curb.

What’s so fucking special about you?

Sungchan’s words were still in the squeal of the bus brakes in the morning, and the hum of strangers’ conversations, and the shuffle of leaves as the wind shook tree branches. You stared at the grooves of the hardwood floor in the breakroom, hearing his voice in the gurgle of the coffee machine as it ran on the counter behind you. You didn’t even need your usual morning cup, still wide awake, as you had been all night. Fingers snapped in front of your eyes, and you lazily dragged your gaze up to the owner of the hand, Renjun.

“You look like shit,” he deadpanned.

You took a long, deep sigh, not even having enough in you to react to the comment as you usually would. “Do you ever think about your soulmate, Renjun?”

“Uh… no?” He lifted an eyebrow. “Because I don’t have one? Remember?”

“I know, Factory employees get taken out of the program. But doesn’t that mean that the computer is really working with incomplete data or whatever? Since it doesn’t actually have every single person in there?”

He crossed his arms over his chest as he seemed to think about this for a moment. “I guess.”

“If we were all in there, we’d get matched up with somebody. Our soulmate. We’re not all in there, but whoever we would be matched with still is. So they just… get their second-best match?”

“What is it that matchmaking lady always says? ‘The computer does more than we’ll ever know?’”

“Ms. Kwon?”

“Yeah, her.” He nodded, turning around to get his cereal down from the cabinet. He answered your question over his shoulder, “No, I’ve never thought about this, Y/N. But you have clearly been doing a lot of thinking about it.”

“Too much,” you groaned. “My head hurts.”

Your coworker’s voice was a bit softer as he offered, “You, me, and Jaemin—Drinks after work?”

After work you ended up on a rooftop bar with Jaemin and Renjun, nursing your second beer of the night as you stared out at the lights of the city. The two of them were chatting about some movie that was coming out this weekend that they were interested in, and all three of you had your feet kicked up on the ledge of the rooftop.

In a lull in their conversation, a finger poked your head from the left. “What’s wrong?” Jaemin asked.

You sighed. “It’s… ugh.”

Another finger poked the right side of your head. “Come on,” Renjun insisted. “You’ve been weird all week.”

You took a swig of your drink, then let out another deep sigh. “Why did you guys start working at the Factory?”

“What?” Renjun scoffed lightly, as if he couldn’t imagine why you’d even ask that.

“Why did you start working at the Factory?” You repeated. “I mean, accepting a life without a soulmate.”

“My parents met at the Factory, actually,” Jaemin said.

“Wait, really?” You turned to him curiously. You knew that Factory employees dating each other wasn’t off-limits, and theoretically that meant they could settle down and have lives sort of like soulmates, but you’d never heard much about it actually happening.

“Yeah, they weren’t soulmates. So it was one of those things where, I don’t know, I got to grow up knowing that there was another way to live.” Jaemin shrugged casually. “I didn’t even really think about the no-soulmate thing when I applied, they just always talked about how much they loved their jobs, it sounded like a cool place to work.”

“I applied at a bunch of different places, this is the first one that called me back,” Renjun gave his own answer.

“Why did you start working here?” Jaemin turned your question back on you.

You tapped your fingernail against the side of your bottle. “Pay’s not bad… And I didn’t… hate the idea of having a say in my love life, you know? Instead of this string showing up one day and telling me who I’m supposed to be with forever. Getting to choose on my own.”

“Sounds like you don’t think the computer knows what it’s doing,” Renjun snorted.

“No, it does! It does! I just… didn’t mind the idea of never knowing.”

Jaemin furrowed his brow curiously. “What do you mean?”

“Like… I can wake up tomorrow and have cereal, or eggs, or buy breakfast on my way into work. There could be someone new on my bus in the morning. I can get a haircut, or dye my hair. It could rain tomorrow, or be sunny, or overcast. Life is always in flux, always changing, new, different.”

“Knowing who your soulmate is, would be too… certain?”

“Some people like having that constant in their life,” Renjun pointed out. “Or so I’ve heard.”

“I don’t know, like what if you get your soulmate and they kind of suck? Then you kind of have to ask yourself what did you do to deserve someone who kind of sucks? Because that’s literally the best you can do,” you ranted, gesturing around to the night sky with your bottle. “At least without a string, there’s always a chance that there’s someone better out there.”

“Ah, you’ve got the Boy Scout mindset,” Jaemin said knowingly. “Just in case. Just in case it rains, I’ll bring an umbrella. Just in case whoever you’re seeing now kind of sucks, you can always try again.”

You crossed your arms defensively. “What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, since you don’t have a string.”

“Very polite way to say she has commitment issues, Jaemin,” Renjun snickered.

“Rude!” You smacked his arm with the back of your hand.

He wasn’t dissuaded by your minor battery, however. Bringing his two feet back down to the ground, he leaned his elbows forward on his knees and looked over at you, “Sounds like to me, you want infinite second chances. Just in case.”

“There’s only so many of us at the Factory, really,” Jaemin pointed out. “Wouldn’t a soulmate actually be infinite second chances? Since you know you’re destined to be with them, you can kind of mess up as often as you want?”

You frowned, thinking of Sungchan walking away from you. “You really think so? I mean, they’re still a person. Wouldn’t they stop putting up with you after so long? Even if they were your soulmate, I’m sure being alone would be better than having a shit soulmate.”

“Well, then you have to ask: What is a soulmate? Just the best you can do? Or someone who’s going to make you better? Is there such a thing as a shit soulmate?”

“There has to be, right? There’s bad people, and those people have soulmates.”

“Are they bad forever? Are they bad people to their soulmates? Or do they also have shit people for soulmates? So, relative to each other, they don’t even realize that they have a shit soulmate?”

“My head hurts again…” You groaned, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples.

A long silence passed as you three each finished off your beers. Renjun shrugged and leaned back in his chair with a satisfied grunt. “Thank God we’ll never know, huh?”

Your Saturday was spent walking. Walking all over town, from your apartment to your bus stop, to the park where Sungchan had been playing Frisbee before, to the corner store where you’d last seen him, and everywhere in between. You kept your head on a swivel, straining for any sign of his tall head over the crowd. But you couldn’t see him anywhere.

When you finally gave up mid-afternoon and went back to your apartment for a late lunch, you knew that you were actually relieved that you hadn’t found him today. If you had ran into him, you didn’t even know what you’d say, where to start, where to end, what to say in the middle. Your head was a jumbled mess, simultaneously too full and too empty. There was no way you’d be able to articulate a single comprehensible word when you yourself didn’t know a shred about anything that you were thinking or feeling.

Sunday you were kept busy with Sungchan’s lingering question. What’s so special about you?

In the moment, it felt like he was asking why you thought you were special enough to be exempt from something that everyone else experienced: getting a red string and finding their soulmate. But as you went about mindless chores in your apartment, doing the dishes, folding laundry, you thought about him.

What’s so special about Sungchan? What would make him your soulmate? And you wondered if he was asking himself the same questions about you.

Monday morning you almost missed your bus. You’d been so distracted going about your morning routine that you ran straight from your apartment building onto the bus, the doors closing right after you. The elderly couple was on today, and you plopped into your seat in front of them, offering them a breathless smile and greeting.

“Tough morning, dear?” The woman asked you knowingly.

“Oh, a bit,” you laughed. “Tough couple of weeks, honestly. But I’ll make it. What’s the new exhibit for this month?”

“It’s a contemporary artist who does large-scale mixed media collages,” the husband explained.

“That sounds so cool! Is there a particular theme for the collection on display or it more eclectic?”

“Oh, we don’t read up much before,” she said with a shake of her head. “We like to go in blind, no presuppositions or expectations, good or bad.”

You continued chatting about the museum with them until their stop to get off, and watched fondly as the man helped his wife up, the both of them bidding you farewell before departing. As the bus peeled away, you were able to glimpse them starting arm-in-arm down the sidewalk together.

After dropping your backpack in your chair, you headed towards the breakroom, where you found Jaemin hunched over something at a counter, his back to the door.

“Renjun’s cereal?” You surmised immediately.

He jumped in place, turning around clutching his chest. “Fuck! You scared the shit out of me, Y/N! Don’t sneak up on a guy like that!” He did in fact have a familiar box in his hand, clearly having been pouring some into a cup.

“I wasn’t sneaking. You just flipped out because you know you’re being a little cereal thief right now.”

He quickly closed up the box and put it away. “There. Like it never happened.”

“Why don’t you just bring your own box of cereal?”

“It just tastes better if it’s free.”

“Stolen.”

“Synonyms.” He grinned slyly, shooting you a wink as he walked out.

As you were milling about, trying to gather everything to start the first pot of coffee, Renjun entered, heading straight for where his cereal was stored. You watched out of the corner of your eye as he grabbed it, froze midair, and tested the weight of it in his hand.

“Na Jaemin…” He hissed, slamming the container onto the counter.

“Suggestion—” You announced, turning around to look at him with your arms crossed over your chest. “Keep the cereal at your desk instead of leaving it here unattended where he steals it all the time.”

“I never keep food at my desk. What if it attracts ants?”

“Padlock.”

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “You may be onto something there…”

Renjun wandered out of the room, still musing over this with the cereal box tucked under his arm. You realized you didn’t really want a cup of coffee and put the empty coffee mug away.

The weekly agenda meeting was short and sweet, and you were slow to follow the other matchmakers down the hall after. You were the very last one to swipe in, and to take your seat at your station. Everyone else was already reading their matches, but you just stared at your blank screen, not even turning it on yet. At some point, two weeks ago, someone in this room, one of your coworkers—or maybe even you—had read a match result, looked up a bunch of numbers, and submitted a match report that had changed your life forever. You listened to them clacking away at their keyboards, dozens more strangers’ lives being irreparably altered like yours was.

“Y/N?” Your name was called from across the room, and you whipped your head around to look over at Ms. Kwon, standing in the doorway of her office. She gestured for you to come over. “A moment?”

“Oh, of course, ma’am.” You rushed to stand, hurrying up the stairs and following her into her office.

She closed the door behind you, sitting back down behind her desk, and offering the chairs across from her for you. You nervously took the one closest to the door.

“Is everything alright with you?” Your supervisor asked gently. “You’ve been sitting at your station for the past fifteen minutes and haven’t turned the screen on…”

“Sorry…” You winced, self-conscious as you pictured Ms. Kwon watching you stare at a blank screen for fifteen minutes. “I’m uhm… I…”

“Have something on your mind?”

“It’s worth it, right? Giving up your soulmate to work here?”

Ms. Kwon took your question in stride, folding her hands together over her desk as she answered, “It’s good work that we do here, Y/N, don’t get me wrong. Necessary. But choosing to live without a soulmate, that’s not a noble sacrifice on our part. We’re not any better than anybody else because we choose to work here and they don’t. I don’t know a single executive here who would talk about it like that.”

You could feel all façades slip off your face, your eyes widening slightly and your mouth parting, though no sound came out.

At your apparent speechlessness, Ms. Kwon continued, “We’re not... monks or nuns taking some holy vow, Y/N. It’s morally neutral. Neither good nor bad. It just is.”

A split-second of rage burst inside you. “Then why would any of you choose it? Why would anybody go without a soulmate?”

“Why did you?” She asked you calmly.

“I... was afraid to know,” you admitted quietly.

“Everyone here is sort of like that. They have some other reason. It’s usually not a good one, but they never have to confront it. Ever.”

“So the Factory... is the easy way out?”

“Y/N, listen to the words I’m telling you: It is neither good nor bad to choose to work here. It just is.”

“Is it good to have your soulmate, then?”

“I am not the arbiter of good or bad in your life. I’m just your boss,” she replied, sounding a bit tired now. “Look, you’re very smart. That’s why you were chosen for matchmaking. But I’m urging you to stop this line of thinking here. This is how you end up—”

“I’m resigning,” you declared, and suddenly all of the noise in your mind was quiet.

“That is what I was afraid of,” she sighed. “May I ask why?”

“I… have a soulmate.”

“Of course you do.” Ms. Kwon smiled placidly. “All of us at the Factory do. But quitting now will not put your profile back in to get matched with them.”

“No, I—I was matched. Somehow, I don’t know how, but… I have a red string, Ms. Kwon.” You held up your right hand, pointing to your pinky, even though you knew she couldn’t see it. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sudden lightness of your shoulders. “I have a soulmate, and… this is just a job. It’s a good job, and I love it. But there’s other jobs. I don’t have another soulmate.”

She was quiet for a moment, simply looking at you intensely. After a moment, she reached out to hover her hands over her keyboard. “Would you mind if I took just a moment to confirm? It’ll take less than a minute.”

“Sure, go for it.”

Ms. Kwon quickly typed away and clicked a few things on her mouse as you quite literally twiddled your thumbs over your lap. Just a few seconds later, she took her glasses off, rubbing between her brows as she let out a deep sigh. “So it seems you have been…” She sat back in her chair. “Have you… found them?”

“Uhm, yes, ma’am,” you nodded awkwardly.

“This is why you were so interested in undoing matches as of late, I presume.”

“Yes… but not anymore.”

She sat there for a few more moments, eyes closed, before putting her glasses back on and sitting up straight again. “I accept your resignation, Y/N. With a heavy heart, might I add.”

“That means a lot, Ms. Kwon.”

“There will need to be an investigation.”

“I figured.”

“I expect full cooperation from both you and your soulmate.”

“Oh, uh, sure, sure.”

Ms. Kwon looked at you oddly. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“We’re not… exactly… friendly… right now…” You admitted quietly. “And it’s completely my fault…”

She let out a few soft, wistful chuckles. “He didn’t take too kindly to you attempting to ‘undo’ your string, did he?”

“No, he didn’t.” You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek regretfully.

“The string will tighten again, Y/N,” she reassured you, her voice kind. “The computer doesn’t make mistakes.”

“Right. Thank you, Ms. Kwon.”

She cleared her throat, becoming formal and businesslike again. “Provided the investigation turns up exactly what I think it will, I’ll also write an excellent reference letter for you, if you would like.”

“What do you think the investigation will turn up?”

“A mistake. Something was misfiled. A paper was put in the wrong stack. A name left off an email. I don’t think you tampered with the program somehow to put yourself back in. Did you?”

“No, ma’am, not at all.”

“There we go.” She shrugged. “Do you have anything else for me?”

“I get my severance pay and all that, right?”

“Of course.”

You stood up, set your key card on the desk, and shook her hand before leaving her office, walking right out of the matchmaking room as the others kept at it at their stations. Making a beeline for your desk, you could see several heads of your coworkers popping up to peer at you curiously before looking back down at their computers. One remained up and focused intently on you from further down your row, Renjun.

As you stopped next to Jaemin and opened your backpack at your desk, he took his headphones off to turn to you. “Uh hey…?”

“Hi,” you replied cheerily, beginning to grab personal possessions off your desk and load them into your bag.

“What are you doing?”

At this point, Renjun had stood up from his desk and stalked over to you two, eyes wide as he took in what you were doing. “What’s going on?”

“I quit!” You informed them, not being particularly quiet about it.

“What?!” “Seriously?!”

“Seriously,” you confirmed, unplugging the receiver for your personal wireless mouse, and putting it back inside said mouse, before chucking the whole thing into your bag. “Resigned. Quit. Handed in my zero day notice.”

“Why? I thought you loved this job!” Renjun sputtered out, his hands on his hips.

“Yeah! Like, I thought you were going to be Director one day!” Jaemin nodded. “What happened?”

You looked around the wide-open bullpen, still having enough tact to not want to blab about your string in front of everybody. Zipping up your backpack and throwing one strap over your shoulder, you asked your friends innocently, “Walk me out?”

They practically dragged you down the stairs, flanking you on either side, none of you saying a word until you were outside.

“What’s going on?” Renjun demanded as soon as the front doors closed behind you. “Is it something we need to know about? Should we be looking for other jobs?”

“Did you ask for a raise or something and they wouldn’t give it to you?” Jaemin asked. “Or a promotion? Or—”

“No, it’s nothing like that. You guys are fine,” you promised them, lacing your two hands together in front of you. Taking a deep breath, you admitted, “I have a red string, and I found my soulmate.”

Their jaws dropped, and they looked at each other, flabbergasted, then at you, then each other again, then stared at you. Renjun was the first to shake himself out of his stupefied state, “How did that even—”

“I don’t know, and I don’t know how much I can even say until the Factory finishes their investigation, so…” You trailed off. “Yeah, that’s why I quit. And Ms. Kwon didn’t ask me to stay.”

Jaemin’s eyes widened comically as he pointed at you accusatorily. “The guy at lunch, was he your—”

“Yeah, that was him.” You rubbed the back of your neck nervously. “Anyway, you guys can’t say anything to anybody else at the Factory, okay? Just let management handle this however they want to. Keep your noses out of it.”

“So what are you going to do now?” Renjun asked.

“Uh… try to find him? Again?” You said sheepishly.

“You lost him?” Jaemin asked in disbelief. “Like, in a well or something? How? What?”

“We kind of had a fight… Let’s just say the ball’s in my court, and I don’t know how to play.”

He patted you on the back. “You’ve got this, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you nodded to him gratefully. “I should let you two get back to work now. Thank you both, again, for being the best work buddies a girl could ask for.”

“Hey, don’t talk like you’re going off and dying,” Renjun scoffed, poking the right side of your head.

“Yeah, we’re your real buddies, too.” Jaemin poked the left side of your head. “I still owe you your book.”

“You two have got to make sure you don’t kill each other over cereal in the mornings on your own now. I won’t be there to referee,” you warned as you took a step back, facing them.

“As long as Jaemin keeps his grubby mitts to himself, no problem.” Renjun nodded.

Jaemin grinned. “No promises.”

You laughed, going in to give each of them a hug. “Bye, guys. I’ll see you around.”

And you proceeded to walk. From the riverside park near the Factory, to the curb where you’d eaten ice cream together, to your favorite bookstore. You walked until your feet ached and your stomach growled, and even after that. You found new parts of the city that you’d never seen, never had any reason to go to before. As you came up to a street of small shops, you peered into each window carefully as you passed by. Your feet skidded to a stop all on their own and your heart leapt to your throat as you inadvertently made eye contact with a patron right on the other side of the glass of one store. The exact person you’d been looking for.

While Sungchan froze in place, you ran for the entrance to the shop, throwing open the door and ducking around shelves and displays to find him still glued to the same spot, staring out the window at the pavement where you used to be. You grabbed his left hand with your right, watching the string complete itself, and pulled him around to face you.

“Sungchan!” You said his name breathlessly, a relieved smile on your face. “Found you!”

“Y/N…” His voice was guarded, uncertain, gaze trailing over your red jumpsuit that you were still in. “Are you… on your lunch break?”

“No, I uh, I resigned this morning,” you told him, not an ounce of remorse in your tone.

His eyes widened, and his demeanor immediately changed as he looked down at you with concern. “What? You didn’t have to—Y/N, what happened? Oh my god, what are you going to do?”

A throat was very conspicuously cleared from nearby, and you snapped your head over in the direction of it, spotting a group of several guys leaning against shelves further down the store, a few trying to look busy and not like they had just been listening to your conversation. One stood at the front of them, looking directly at Sungchan.

“Oh, sorry, guys,” Sungchan waved them off. “Go on without me, okay?”

And with that, he set down the merchandise he had been browsing—which you were now seeing was a stack of old magazines; it looked as though you were in a thrift store of some kind—and pulled you out the door by the hand. Just a little ways down the street was a bench overlooking the river, and the two of you stopped there.

“I wouldn’t have been able to keep working there with a red string, Sungchan,” you explained. “If I didn’t resign, I would’ve been fired whenever they found out. I wanted to tell them myself.”

He frowned. “When I said you had a choice…”

“I chose to keep the string, and stop looking for a way to undo it. I know that’s what you were asking me.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask…” he sighed. “What made you change your mind?”

“A lot of different things, but… I think realizing that I’m not that special.”

“Y/N, I—”

“No, I mean, I kind of had this complex about working at the Factory. Thinking that it was some sacrifice for the greater good, me giving up my soulmate so I could help other people find theirs. But like… it was just a job.” You laughed at how ridiculous that sounded now, even just a few hours after resigning.

Sungchan smiled a little at that, but still looked pensive. “So what are you going to do for work now?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted quietly, but couldn’t keep the giddy grin off your face. “That’s really scary… but it’s kind of exciting, in a weird way, right? I’ve had the same job since I got out of school, and now I can do anything.”

“We’ll find you a job. That’s like, Priority One, okay?” He reassured you. “We’ll do some brainstorming, find some job listings, we’ll figure something out.”

“We?”

“Yeah?” He said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not leaving you out to dry after all this.”

“Thanks, Sungchan.” You fidgeted with your fingers, eyes gracing over the finished red string again. “And uh, if that’s Priority One, then Priority Two is probably going to have to be the investigation.”

“The what?”

“The Bureau has to investigate how this even happened, our match. Me resigning was just the beginning, not the end. They’re expecting our full cooperation.”

“What are we going to have to cooperate with, exactly?” He crossed his arms.

“They’ll probably just want to ask us some questions. Me more than you, since I’m the one who actually worked there. Ms. Kwon—my old boss—made it sound like it’d be more a formality than anything else. I’m sure they’re already auditing all my match reports for the past two years, and looking through my key card log, and going through my computer as we speak.”

“Alright, yeah. Fine.”

With his agreement, the two of you were quiet for a moment, and you felt an air of uncertainty. You’d found each other, you were soulmates, you weren’t trying to undo your string anymore, and yet you were still practically strangers. Where did you go from here?

“So… what’s your favorite color?” You asked.

“What?” He blinked, seeming confused at the sudden change in topic.

“I don’t know anything about you…” You said quietly, feeling your skin get warm with embarrassment. “I don’t know, that’s just the first thing that came to mind. Forget it, it was stupid.”

He chuckled and answered anyway, “Purple. My favorite color is purple.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“What’s yours?”

“Pink. Uh, cotton candy pink, specifically.”

“That’s good. That’s really good.” He was still laughing, more than your awkward question warranted.

“Okay, what’s so funny? Other than me being stupid.”

“No, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just…” He reassured you, trailing off as he seemed to be trying to put his thoughts together. “There’re all these books, and magazine articles and stuff, you know. 15 Things to Not Do When You Meet Your Soulmate. 10 Best Opening Lines for Meeting the One. I Met My Soulmate and It’s Awkward: Now What? How to Get Over First Meeting Flutters. And you’re nothing like that. You’ve probably never even read anything of that sort of stuff, have you?”

“No…” You shook your head, then squinted at him suspiciously. “Have you?”

He held his hands up defensively. “Well, call it morbid curiosity—”

You couldn’t help but giggle, attempting to cover it with your hand, having the perfect image of him lying on his bed on his stomach, legs kicking up behind him as he scrolled on his phone late at night reading cheesy internet columns about love.

“And that’s funny, yeah, okay. I didn’t fool you with the… yeah.” Sungchan laughed again, this time at himself, and you were quickly starting to think that it might be your favorite sound.

“It’s cute, it’s cute!” You promised. “I’m uhm, sure me running away really threw a wrench in whatever great opening line you had planned.”

“Yes and no.” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You were really pretty, and when I looked at you, I suddenly forgot every word I knew. And then you ran away, and I was just confused at how I had messed it up before opening my mouth.”

Your body burned on the inside and outside twofold from him simultaneously saying you were so pretty it made him speechless, and also the shame at how stupendously you had fucked up your first meeting. You squeezed your eyes shut, covered your face with both hands, and shook your head as you groaned out an apology, “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine, really— Helped snap me out of it, you know?” He chuckled, and you were glad he could at least see some humor in it now. “Looking back now, completely understandable for you to do that. Sorry again for chasing you through the streets, I’m sure that didn’t help.”

“Also understandable on your part,” you said. Before you could scramble for another thing to ask Sungchan, your stomach rumbled loudly, and you cringed, knowing full well that he had definitely been able to hear that. “Sorry…”

“I was supposed to grab food with the guys anyway.” Sungchan stood up. “Let’s get you something to eat, hm?”

You followed him to a small café a couple streets away, and after grabbing your food, you two sat at a table outside. “So what do you do? For work? Or are you a student? You know quite a bit about my old job, but…”

“Oh, I’m an artist.”

“What kind? Like, what medium? Is that the right way to ask that? I guess I’m asking what kind of stuff you make?”

“Don’t worry, those were all good questions. Different questions, but good.” He smiled warmly, taking a sip of his drink before answering. “I mostly focus on making mixed media collages. Sometimes I source my materials from other places, but sometimes I make it myself. Take my own pictures, paint it myself, put the clay on myself. Just depends. So I work with a lot of different materials and mediums, too.”

“Oh!” You immediately thought of the couple you talked to on the bus that morning. “You should totally check out the art museum on 2nd this month! I heard they have an exhibit showcasing mixed media collages. I haven’t been, but there’s this couple on my bus in the mornings who goes every month, they told me about it today.”

“Did they say the artist?” He asked mildly, picking at his food with his utensil.

“No, they don’t do any research before, they like to go in blind.”

“Yeah, uhm, that’s my exhibit,” he practically whispered the last two words behind a napkin as he wiped his mouth with it, looking down at his plate. His ears were bright red, and he grabbed his drink to take another long sip.

Your eyes widened. “Wait really?”

“I understand if you think I’m lying, it’s on the exhibit webpage on the museum website, but yeah…”

“Sungchan, that’s so cool!” You exclaimed, even as you brought out your phone to bring up the website. Not because you didn’t believe him, but just because reading the headline of how the museum was proud to feature ‘New Local Artist Jung Sungchan’ in an exclusive exhibit was practically surreal. He, however, still couldn’t seem to meet your eyes. “Why do you look like you want to die?”

“I didn’t want to use my real name, but my… manager thought it would be a good idea. And obviously I had to tell you.” He rubbed a hand over his face, making everything from his forehead to his neck pink. “I just hate people looking at my art and thinking they know me. They can look at my art all I want, project onto it, feel from it, call it stupid, say they could have done better, I don’t care, I just don’t want them to know it’s mine and think they know me because of it.”

“Who’s your manager that made you use your real name? Don’t artists use pseudonyms sometimes?”

“My sister’s husband. He’s good at his job, and he’s done a lot for me. I’m really thankful for him, honestly. It was more like when I was first starting out, he thought that using a pseudonym would make me seem sort of pretentious. People would like a regular guy a lot more.” Sungchan sighed. “I agreed, and have regretted that decision with every art show I’ve attended since.”

You nodded slowly, tapping your fingers on the tabletop in a rhythm as you thought. “So… why do you think you make art, then?”

“I have to,” he shrugged. “Not making art would be worse. People connecting with my art… I like that. But I don’t like when they try to assume things about me because of my art. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, it does,” you assured him. “Death of the collagist.”

His face cracked into a grin. “Exactly.”

“Would you mind if I went to your exhibit sometime?” You asked. “You totally don’t have to come, I’m sure that’d be weird for you. But I’d like to go see it, and not make any assumptions about you at all.”

“It’s a public museum, I can’t stop you from going.”

“Well, yes… I don’t know, it’s still your art, and I’m not just a member of the public, am I?”

Sungchan’s eyes held a softness as he looked at you across the table, and he shook his head. “No, you’re not just a member of the public to me.”

“And you’re not just some random artist to me,” you responded.

“I wouldn’t mind if you went, on one condition.”

“Mm?” You prompted, expecting it to be something along the lines of ‘don’t tell me what you think’ or ‘don’t ever mention it to me.’ Nothing at all in the realm of what he actually requested.

“I go with you.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Wait really?”

“Really.”

“Okay, yeah, of course!”

“Then it’s a date.”

You nodded, suddenly feeling shy at him calling it a date, turning your eyes back down to your food. “Yeah, okay. A date.”

You ended up spending the whole day with Sungchan, just getting to know each other. And browsing online job listings for you—turns out he wasn’t kidding about that being Priority One.

He used revising your résumé as an opportunity to learn more about you. Education—Oh where did you go to school? What did you study? Which devolved into you two telling stories about classes you liked, professors and teachers you loved and hated, and old school friends. Work Experience—So what actually was your official title? What were your job responsibilities? Which led to you fondly reminiscing in your times at the office with Jaemin and Renjun, talking about your training to be a Systems Analytics Specialist, and his disbelief in how exactly you even did your job. It was when you got to the Skills portion that you balked a little bit. It felt like your only skills were specific to the Factory: reading the matches from the computer, inputting match reports, keeping Renjun from killing Jaemin over a box of cereal. Sungchan helped you get a bit creative with your technological experience, creative thinking, quick learning, and conflict resolution skills.

As he walked you back to your apartment after getting dinner together, you were still asking him your never-ending stream of questions. “So what were you supposed to be doing with your friends today?”

“I was collecting.” He craned his neck up, and you followed his line of vision to look up at the few specks of light in the sky that you could see against the brightness of the city. “Gathering materials for collages. Thrift stores are pretty good for old magazines, books, newspapers, photo albums, all kinds of stuff. The guys were tagging along, they wanted to get lunch and do some shopping too.”

“Oh. Sorry for taking you away from them.”

He gave you a funny look. “No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re not going to apologize for that.”

You blinked at him in confusion. “Uh… I think I already did?”

He stopped you two in the middle of the sidewalk, devoid of other pedestrians, holding your eye contact very seriously. “Thank you for finding me today.”

“Oh,” you chuckled nervously. “You’re welcome. Thank you for… everything else about today. The look on your face when I found you—I was sort of afraid that you were going to run this time.”

He laughed, continuing to walk again. “Did I really look like that?”

“Through the window, yeah. When I came in the shop, though, it was more like… you thought you were dreaming. Like you were going to pinch yourself at any moment, just in case. Or you thought I was pranking you.”

“Well, you’ll have to understand why I didn’t want to get my hopes up too high; all our previous meetings didn’t quite have fairytale endings.”

“No, they didn’t,” you agreed.

“But this time felt different. So I let myself be a little hopeful,” he admitted with a grin, nudging your arm with his. “And I was right.”

“How’d you figure that?”

“You didn’t act like finding me was a terrible inconvenience, first.”

You winced. “Mm-mhm.”

“And the smile on your face when you ran in and grabbed my hand.”

“What about it?”

“I’d never seen you smile before that.” He then added a teasing, “I didn’t know if you could.”

“Hey! I wasn’t that bad.”

He snickered, affectionately bumping his elbow against yours again. You rolled your eyes, smiling as you elbowed him back. You arrived at the main entry to your building soon, and you stopped there to say goodbye to Sungchan. He looked between the door that you were standing in front of, and the familiar bus stop just a few meters down the road, well within view.

“Oh wow, it must have really freaked you out when I jogged by your stop, huh?” He commented, scratching the back of his head.

“Yeah, you can imagine the ‘ready to fistfight the divine universe’ energy I had in my body at that point.”

He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Pretty sure I witnessed some of it, too.”

You looked longingly at the bus stop, holding yourself, and sighed. “It’s going to be weird not getting up and going to work tomorrow.”

“So what are you going to do tomorrow? With no work?”

You passed a bubble side to side in your mouth as you thought, then shrugged. “Sleep in?”

“Great way to start the day.”

“And then… send my résumé to some of those places we found?”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Probably read outside somewhere if it’s a nice day?”

“Ooh, sounds nice.”

You dug your toe into the ground. “I don’t know, what are you doing?”

“Sleep in, and I promised Shotaro I’d help him with this thing, but then… if you don’t mind the company, I think reading outside sounds pretty lovely?”

“What are you helping Shotaro with?”

“Taking Instagram pictures.”

You let out a short round of giggles. “I’d like to spend time with you tomorrow too, Sungchan. Just let me know when you’re done helping Shotaro with that thing.”

“It’ll be the quickest photoshoot he’s ever done in his life.”

“No, still do it right!”

“It’ll be right, just quick.”

You shook your head disapprovingly, but the fond smile on your face very obviously negated that sentiment. “Goodnight, Sungchan.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

And with that, you unlocked your building door and gave him one last wave over your shoulder before closing and locking it back up behind you. Alone in the stairwell, you let out a sigh of contentment.

The next morning, you slept in on a Tuesday for the first time in a while and didn’t put on your red jumpsuit after getting out of bed. Instead, you shuffled out to your kitchen and made yourself breakfast, which you slowly enjoyed with a cup of tea. After taking your sweet time in a nice hot shower, you got into a t-shirt and pants, and sat on your couch to start sending in applications to new jobs. As you typed on your laptop, you’d catch the occasional flash of the red loop around your pinky finger, but instead of filling you with you dread or apprehension, it now made you smile a bit, and push on with your task, knowing you had someone right there in your corner just on the other end of that string. After a couple hours of filling out applications, searching through more prospective job listings, and finding a few new ones that had been posted since you and Sungchan looked yesterday, you deemed that to be plenty for your first morning of job hunting. It was nearly lunchtime, and you hadn’t left your apartment yet. Looking outside, you saw that it was sunny, with a few passing clouds creating occasional patches of shadow, and breezes gently rustled the leaves on the trees. A perfectly lovely day.

Gathering up a couple books, you packed a light going-out bag, then headed out. As you passed your bus stop, you thought of the regulars on your morning commute, and wondered if they noticed your disappearance this morning, and if they thought anything of it, like you thought of the primary school teacher sometimes. You hoped the sisters got to school okay, and that the elderly couple liked Sungchan’s exhibit, and even that the office workers who you had never spoken to had good days at work—not too terribly stressful. As you had just arrived at your destination and picked out the perfect spot to read, your phone buzzed with a text.

[sungchan: done! with a satisfied customer, might i add]

[you: oh good! i’m done with my applications for the morning too! out reading right now]

You sent your location, then took your book out as there was another buzz.

[sungchan: omw :) ]

You were so caught up in the chapter you were reading that you didn’t realize Sungchan had arrived until he set his bag down next to you. You jumped a little bit, closing the book on your thumb as you clutched your hand over your heart, which was now beating wildly out of rhythm.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to give you a scare.” Sungchan didn’t look that sorry, as he had a clearly amused smirk on his face as he looked down at you. “I did call your name.”

“It’s alright, sorry I didn’t hear you.” You waved off his apology, then nodded to the spot beside you for him to sit down. “Lovely day out, huh?”

“It is,” he agreed, stretching out his long legs as he settled in against the large tree trunk. He reached into his bag, and you looked with intrigue at what book he was going to read for today.

You perked up with interest as you recognized the cover immediately. “Oh, I’ve been wanting to read that book! I love that author. Just haven’t picked it up yet.”

“Yeah it uhm—” he cleared his throat awkwardly. “It was the book you were looking at when we met. The one you dropped.”

“You…”

“I didn’t know how long it was going to be until the next time I saw you, so I went back and bought it. You know, sort of hoping I could learn something about you in the meantime.”

“And in the meantime, I was scheming to undo our string…” You muttered, eyes falling to your lap.

“Which you, no offense, failed at,” he clicked his tongue and elbowed you teasingly. “I’ll speedread so you can borrow it after me, okay?”

“No, read it right! That author’s so good, you’ll miss stuff!”

“I’ll read it carefully! Just also super fast.”

“Those are literally antonyms when it comes to reading!” You insisted.

“You’ve never seen me speedread then.”

You smacked your open book over your face, despite knowing that he was joking. “Oh my god…”

Two weeks later, and you and Sungchan were going to The Soulmate Factory for your interviews. You were sort of surprised it had taken them this long to talk to you, but at the same time, that it was happening this quickly. It felt weird going to the Factory not in your jumpsuit, but you knew that would’ve been possibly the worst choice. So you instead put on something nice, presentable, but not overly formal. After all, it wasn’t your job interview again. Sungchan was wearing a button-up shirt, a stark contrast to the rather casual attire you’d always seen him in before. As the two of you entered the lobby of the Factory, you could see him looking around at everything with an air of suspicion.

You stopped at the front desk, giving the attendant a polite smile and starting to introduce yourself, despite having just been colleagues a few weeks ago, “Hi, uhm Y/L/N Y/N and Jung Sungchan, here for a 9:00 appointment with Ms. Kwon?”

“Of course,” she nodded, looking between you and Sungchan with a strained smile of her own. “You… two can have a seat. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Leading Sungchan over to sit on a settee nearby, you looked around, taking a few deep breaths as your knee bounced up and down nervously on its own. You had gotten the two of you here fifteen minutes early, so you already knew that you’d be waiting for some time.

“Why did she say it like that?” He hissed to you under his breath.

“Say what?” You whispered back, looking at her out of the corner of your eye to see if she was listening, but it looked like she was taking an incoming call.

“You two can have a seat.” He repeated snidely. “And the way she looked at us? Looked at you? Like we’re the weird ones for being soulmates?”

“I told you, Sungchan, there’s a reason Bureau employees don’t get soulmates. People will think I rigged it somehow. Even other employees.”

“You said it was impossible for you to have messed with it. Shouldn’t they of all people know that?”

“Well, with me being a matchmaker…” You tried to think of how to succinctly sum this up without telling Sungchan too much stuff that he wasn’t supposed to know right before his interview. “Even other Bureau employees don’t know what goes on in the matchmaking room. I’m sure there’s been rumors since I’ve left.”

“But you didn’t do anything. What’s the point of working here if you’re just as bad as the people who don’t?”

“They also probably think that when this gets out I’m going to give the Bureau and the employees here a bad rep, make the public distrust them for a while. Even the employees that don’t think I did anything will probably hate me at least a little for that.”

“Well I still don’t like it,” he huffed, resting an arm along the back of the furniture behind you.

“You’re allowed to not like it. I’m just saying there’s not much we can do about it.”

He proceeded to focus his hater energy on making comments about the décor being tacky, and you couldn’t help but giggle quietly and join in. You never really thought about it much before, but being called The Soulmate Factory and having a color palette of red, pink, and white was a bit much. You two also had a small game of how many “subtle” red lines you could find in the designs of decorative throw pillows, rugs, carpeting, and pieces of abstract art on the walls. Finally, you heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and looked up to see a somewhat familiar face. It wasn’t Ms. Kwon, as you had hoped for, but Lee Jeno, one of the executive assistants that you often saw when he was sent down from the ninth floor on important errands by his bosses.

“Jung Sungchan?” He called, looking directly at Sungchan.

“Yeah, that’s me.” He lifted his hand that had been resting on his leg between pointing out tacky décor. He ushered you up with him with the hand that was behind you on the couch. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

“Sorry, just Mr. Jung right now,” Jeno clarified with a slight wince.

Sungchan looked like he was about to argue, but you patted his arm reassuringly. “It’ll be fine, Sungchan. I’ll see you in a bit, okay?”

He sighed, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Alright, fine. I’ll be back soon.”

“Be good.”

“Always am.”

You watched him follow Jeno up the stairs, Sungchan casting you one last glance over his shoulder before the two of them fully disappeared from your view. It was then that you finally sat back down, and started chewing on your thumbnail.

Only fifteen minutes later Jeno came back down the stairs. Alone. “Y/N?” He addressed you more casually.

You stood up and didn’t hide the concern on your face as you looked around behind him. “Where’s Sungchan?”

“Mr. Jung has been moved to another waiting room. You’ll see him after your interview.”

Letting out a breath, you tried really hard not to shoot the messenger as you responded. “Fine. Lead the way, Jeno.”

The fact that you were going up the stairs and not to the elevator was interesting. You must not be going to his bosses’ floor, unless they wanted you to collapse on your way there.

“It’s good to see you again, by the way,” your former coworker said quietly. “I had to hand-deliver a memo to Ms. Kwon the other day and the matchmaking room was weirdly empty without you at your station.”

“Thanks.” A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “I wouldn’t have even noticed your presence if I was there but… it’s nice to know that someone noticed my absence.”

“Well, we did our intro training together. You don’t forget those people.”

“No, you don’t,” you agreed. “Us, Jaemin, Renjun, Donghyuck in Budgeting.”

“Is it nice? Your life now? Don’t tell me anything specific, I can’t know.”

You laughed. “I haven’t lived much of it, honestly. I’ve only been gone a few weeks.”

“That’s true. There’s just been so much that’s happened, it feels like a lifetime.”

“Yeah, it does.”

“But has it been good at least? Overall, you think?”

“Yeah, it’s good, Jeno. He’s good.”

“Of course he is. The computer never makes mistakes.” And with that, the two of you stopped in front of a conference room on the second floor. He nodded politely to you. “This is where I leave you. If I don’t see you again, I wish you the best, Y/N. With everything.”

“Thank you. Bye, Jeno.” You smiled at him, knocking on the door as he pivoted on his heel and walked down the hall.

“Come in.” Came a familiar voice from within. Opening the door, you saw two figures stand up from the small conference table. Ms. Kwon, and a man who wasn’t familiar to you at all.

“Y/N, hello,” Ms. Kwon nodded to you. She didn’t even let you open your mouth to greet her back, gesturing to the man with her. “I’m not sure if you ever had the pleasure to meet AD Yang of Risk Management while you were here.”

And in one curt sentence, she had told you everything you needed to know about the situation: This was the assistant director of the risk management department at the Bureau, aka the legal department, which meant that this was serious serious, this would not be some quick interview to check off boxes, and she had only been let in because of her job title and as a professional courtesy to her, she wouldn’t be in control of the processions. But most importantly—she was on your side, for whatever that was worth. And honestly, it was worth a lot to keeping your composure as you turned to face the man.

AD Yang was deceptively young, you wouldn’t have pinned him as being as high up in the Bureau as he was just by looking at him. He only looked to be maybe ten years older than you, not a touch of grey in his pristine black hair, and only a hint of the beginning of worry lines on his forehead. He wore a suit, as all Bureau Executives did—it was only the lower level workers like you who wore the red jumpsuits—though his looked just a little too big on him, and his red tie was a little loose and slightly crooked, as if he still hadn’t mastered tying it yet. Both these things only aided in making him look younger and inexperienced. But the air of caution Ms. Kwon had about the whole situation immediately let you know not to underestimate him. You were thinking maybe his dress choices were intentional, so people would do exactly that, let their guards down around him.

AD Yang offered you a practically boyish smile as he held out his hand across the table, which your former supervisor hadn’t even done. You gingerly shook it as he introduced himself. “Please, just Mr. Yang is fine. Ms. Kwon is always so formal, you know. And I’ll call you Ms. Y/L/N, so we’re all on the same level here.”

You nodded.

“I don’t think we ever did have the pleasure to meet, Ms. Y/L/N,” Mr. Yang kept talking, his tone conversational. He then said as if it were a joke, “People usually only see me when they’re in serious trouble, you know?” He laughed, the only one to, then reassured you, “That isn’t what’s happening here, don’t worry. We’re just going to ask you a few questions, then you and Mr. Jung can head on out and off to your new life together, okay?”

You nodded.

“So, why don’t we sit, hm?”

The three of you took your seats, the two of them on one side of the conference table, you on the other. Mr. Yang took a moment to shuffle his papers, then smacked his hand to his forehead as if he’d suddenly remembered something. “I’m sorry, would you like some water, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“No, thank you.”

“Alright, let’s get started then.” He reached for a small device in the middle of the table. “I’ll be needing to record this conversation. Is that alright, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Sure, yeah.” Not like you could really say no.

“Great.” His boyish smile disappeared as soon as the recorder clicked on. He started by listing off the date and time, then addressed you. “This is AD Robert Yang, interviewing Ms. Y/L/N Y/N. Also present is Ms. Kwon Siyeon, Supervisor of Systems Analysis and Reporting. Ms. Y/L/N, you are aware that I’m recording this conversation, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yes.”

“A few formalities before we begin: Since I have the recording going, I ask that you let me finish my question before you answer, even if you think you know what I’m going to ask. Cross-chatter is a bit difficult to parse out when you have to listen back to it.”

“Okay.”

“I also want you to answer everything aloud. No nodding or shaking your head, or ‘uh-huh’ or ‘nuh-unh.’” He showed the motions as he did them, and you could tell he had done this spiel many times before. “The non-verbal cues don’t translate great in an audio format.”

“Will do.”

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat, clicked his pen a couple of times, then looked up at you to begin with his first question. “Now, can you tell me how long you worked at The Bureau of Interpersonal Affairs prior to your resignation?”

“About five years.”

“Do you remember when your first day was?”

“Of training or on my own?”

“Training. After being hired.”

“Probably… spring five years ago. May, after I graduated.”

“Okay, good, good. And so you were hired, did your six months of standard training, right?”

“Right.”

“Then what happened?”

“I did more training to be a Systems Analytics Specialist.”

“How much?”

“Two and a half years.”

“So three years of training total, then you got to start on your own as a… Systems Analytics Specialist.”

“Yes.”

“I believe the other name for that position is matchmaker, correct?”

You bit down on your tongue to keep back an eyeroll. All of you in this room had to be aware that he was feigning ignorance right now. He might as well have asked if the Bureau was also sometimes called The Soulmate Factory. “Yes, we’re often called that as well.”

“More than Systems Analytics Specialist?”

“Yes.”

He jumped topics. “So why did you start working at the Bureau?”

“It sounded like a good place to work.”

“How so?”

“It seemed like the Bureau did good work. Helping people find their soulmates.”

“And you didn’t want to find yours?”

“I was willing to give that up for something bigger than me.”

“Did you join the Bureau with the intent of manipulating your soulmate match?”

“No.”

“Did you sign up to be a matchmaker with the intent of manipulating your soulmate match?”

“No. I didn’t sign up to be a matchmaker in the first place.”

“You didn’t?” He arched an eyebrow curiously.

“No.”

“How did you become a matchmaker?”

You glanced over at your former boss. “Ms. Kwon chose me at the end of my six months of basic training.”

“Why you?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged.

“She didn’t tell you?”

“No.”

“You agreed to two and a half more years of training for a specialized position that doesn’t even recruit one new person a year without being told why you were suited for that position?”

“Yes. I was young and it paid better. I didn’t need to know.”

“When you were working as a matchmaker, were you ever asked by friends or family to manipulate their matches in any way, shape, or form?” He switched topics again. You weren’t sure if he was trying to disorient you, or if he simply decided that he was done with that line of questioning and wanted to move on with the next one.

You opened your mouth to say ‘no,’ then suddenly thought of the sisters on your bus in the mornings, recalling a day when the younger one had been crying as you got on, and her sister stopped you specifically. Tilting your head, you replied, “I once pinky promised a little girl that I wouldn’t match her with this smelly boy in her class. Does that count?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

He made a show of scribbling something down on his notes, of which he had already filled up the first page of a large legal pad. AD Yang flipped to the next page as he announced, “I’m going to skip forward a little in time. When you found out you had the string, what did you do first?”

“Went home.”

“Went home?” He repeated.

“It showed up after work. So I went home.”

“Where were you?”

“The bus stop outside of the Bureau.”

“Around what time of day was this?”

“Between five and five-twenty.”

“That’s a pretty specific time frame. How do you know that?”

“It was after work ended but before my bus showed up.”

“So the Bureau was still open, then. There were still people inside that you could have reported this to, such as Ms. Kwon here?”

“I don’t know if there were people in the building, and certainly not if Ms. Kwon specifically was still in the building, since I was outside and could not see inside of the building,” you answered frankly.

“Right, of course.” He gave you a close-lipped smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Do people usually stay after five here, at the Bureau? To your knowledge?”

“Some people, sure, on some days.”

“So, it would have been a good guess, that there would’ve been somebody inside, when you realized that you had a string?”

“Possibly.”

“Then why didn’t you go back inside?”

“Honestly, I panicked,” you admitted, closing your eyes for a moment as you thought back to that night again. “I thought it was impossible for me to get one. I thought I might’ve been able to figure something out on my own.”

“Figure something out? Like what?”

You opened your eyes and gave a half-hearted ‘I-don’t-know’ gesture with your hands that had been resting on the tabletop, despite his prior instructions to keep non-verbal cues to a minimum. “Like what happened, what went wrong.”

“And did you?” He prompted.

“No. I didn’t.” Not even a little bit.

“And is that when you told Ms. Kwon? When you gave up?”

“No.” You told her when you decided you wanted to keep the string. Not because the dead-ends had frustrated you.

“Why did you tell her? Why not continue your renegade investigation?”

“You’re asking me why I followed proper protocol?”

“I’m trying to piece together what happened. All the events that happened, and exactly in what order. What happened that caused you to tell Ms. Kwon at the time that you did? Did you even tell her? Or was it found out? I’ve been assuming, I’m sorry.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, but consciously relaxed your face back into a pleasantly neutral expression. Ms. Kwon would have obviously had to do her own report including all of the details of your conversation with her. He should know all of those particulars. Was he trying to catch Ms. Kwon in a lie?

“Yes, I chose to report it. Because I had done some self-reflection. And I don’t think there’s anything further to be said that is of import for the Bureau to know.”

There was a moment of still air as he held eye contact with you. Out of the corner of your vision, you saw Ms. Kwon’s lips part, as if she were about to say something, then she closed her mouth again, waiting. Mr. Yang cleared his throat.

“Sorry to jump around like this, I’m sure it must be disorienting, but I’m going to go back in time now.” He was very clearly not sorry at all. “Did you know Jung Sungchan before this incident?”

“No.”

“Had you ever met, seen, or heard of him in passing?”

“Not to my recollection, no.” Sure, you could have walked by him on the street before, but you had no way to know that.

“It’s my understanding that he’s an artist, you may have seen some of his work? Heard of him that way?”

“No.”

“So there was no reason that you would have wanted to manipulate your match with him?”

“No.”

“How soon after getting your string did you meet Mr. Jung?”

Now you felt like he was messing with you. “You have that data.”

“I’m asking you.”

“The string appeared on Monday evening, we met that Saturday morning.”

“So, less than a week?”

“Yes.”

“Quick.”

“I suppose,” you replied noncommittally.

AD Yang hummed a single note in the back of his throat as he looked over one of his papers, then his sharp eyes were back on you. “How many times did you meet before reporting your string to Ms. Kwon?”

You had to take a moment to think before answering. “Four, including the first meeting.”

“I’d like to return to your job, for a moment. Now, I have Ms. Kwon here with me not only because she was your boss, but because I obviously have no clue what goes on in that room when you guys work with the computer. Really, from what I’ve heard, it’s some incredible stuff. So she’s kind of here to help me out in case I go way off the mark with what I’m asking you with some of this.” He let out an imitation of a nervous laugh, grabbing a piece of paper from his stack. He pushed it over to you, asking, “Now, can you take a look at this for me?”

It was a nearly blank piece of copy paper, except for one long string of characters printed across it.

jkD%NVSC3%JCacN%vWS5#k!Z4GqGW#ZfMyqGUfc@wQT5L5vK2uWU5N*5Lg&6

“What do you see here, Ms. Y/L/N?” Mr. Yang questioned.

You looked up from the paper, having to consciously choose not to slip back into reading it and instead focus on the conversation at hand. “It’s raw match data from the computer. This is one match.”

“Does it look familiar to you at all?”

“I mean, it looks like every other match I’ve ever read.”

“So you don’t remember reading this specific match at all?”

“No, I don’t remember reading this specific match.” You didn’t even need to look at it again. Of course you didn’t remember it, they were all just a bunch of stuff that you read practically in a trance, there was no way you’d be able to remember any of them.

He grabbed another paper from his folder to show to you, a clipping from a spreadsheet of some kind, several columns showing a date, time, and eight-digit code that was unfamiliar to you, except for the letters appended to the end of it—your initials.

“According to our audit logs, this match was read at, and the match report submitted from, your station in the matchmaking room.”

“Okay.”

“Is it safe to assume, therefore, that you submitted the match report?”

“Was it during business hours?”

“Yes.”

“Was I swiped in?”

“Yes.”

“Did Ms. Kwon see me at my station during that time?”

“Ms. Kwon?” Mr. Yang prompted her without breaking eye contact with you.

“I do not have specific recollection of this day, so I cannot say in the affirmative or the negative,” she spoke for the first time since you had entered, and you had to suppress your smile at her response.

The man lifted his arms up and then down in a sort of ‘oh well’ motion. “We don’t know.”

“The electronic data does make it seem likely that I read this match and submitted this match report,” you finally said.

“This is your match with Mr. Jung.”

You tried not to show your utter shock on your face—you knew he wanted to get some kind of reaction from you—but you couldn’t help the sudden jolt forward in your seat as you went to pull the piece of paper closer to you again, your eyes drinking in the characters once more.

jkD%NVSC3%JCacN%vWS5#k!Z4GqGW#ZfMyqGUfc@wQT5L5vK2uWU5N*5Lg&6

There was still no way for you to distinguish specifics, but just knowing that somewhere in this seemingly meaningless string of nonsense was you and Sungchan, you kept rereading it, desperately wishing for it to feel special now.

“And how do you read the matches? Walk me through the process.” AD Yang’s voice brought your focus back to the present.

You exchanged a knowing look with Ms. Kwon. “I really can’t…”

“Trade secrets?” He said humorously. “It’s alright, I work at the Bureau.”

“No, I mean, it’s impossible to describe. I can’t tell you what I’m reading or how I know. I just do.”

“Then how do you know it’s right?”

“Because it is.”

Ms. Kwon stepped in then, “Mr. Yang, I’m advising you that you are getting close to questioning the computer and the program itself, not Ms. Y/L/N.”

He held his hands up in a sort of surrender. “Well that is certainly what we are not here to do, hm? Let me just take a look at my notes, and make sure I’ve covered everything. Should only be a few more minutes of your time, Ms. Y/L/N.”

AD Yang kept you in there until you started watching the sun begin its journey downwards in the sky. At some point, you started going in circles, and you knew he was just trying to catch you in lies, or confuse you, or get you to admit more than you had before out of exhaustion, or in hopes that he’d let you out. But you gave no different answers, no contradictory or new information, and you knew he’d eventually let you out. After all, there was no proof anywhere that you had done anything wrong, because you hadn’t. The most they could really get on was not telling someone at the Bureau sooner when you’d gotten your string but what could they actually do? Fire you?

When Mr. Yang finally declared the interview over, and turned the recorder off, you had to keep in your groan of relief. Instead, you maintained your composure, standing up when they did in order to shake their hands.

“Thank you very much for your time, Ms. Y/L/N. I do apologize for taking so much of your day, that had not been my intention,” Mr. Yang once again laughed as he shook your hand. “But this was very helpful, and I promise, yours and Mr. Jung’s answers are going to help us here at Bureau improve the way we do things in the future.”

“Right. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Yang.” You nodded politely to him, then turned to your old boss, a genuine smile coming to your face. “It was good seeing you again, Ms. Kwon.”

“Jeno had something to do, so I’ll show you out, Y/N.” She informed you, gesturing to the door.

The two of you were quiet as you walked through the halls of the second floor, until you finally reached a small waiting area on the other end of the building, made up of only a few uncomfortable-looking armchairs. Sungchan was the only person there, slumped down in a chair and bouncing his leg as he cracked his knuckles. He looked up when he heard footsteps, jumping to his feet as soon as he saw you, and while you would’ve felt a little weird about running in an office, he clearly didn’t care, taking just a few long strides to reach you and wrap his arms around you.

“God, Y/N! There you are! What the hell? Why the fuck did they keep you so long? They wouldn’t tell me anything, just that you were still being interviewed and I could either leave or keep waiting. I wasn’t going to leave but—”

“I’m fine, Sungchan, I’m fine,” you reassured him, hugging him back despite the slight awkwardness you felt with Ms. Kwon still definitely being right there. “We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

He didn’t say anything else, just kept holding you as you turned around in his arms to address Ms. Kwon.

“Uhm, we’re good to leave, right? Do you need anything else from us?”

She was clearly fighting back a smile as she replied, “I ask that you wait just a little bit longer, okay?”

“Okay, sure,” you nodded. “What is it? Something for me to sign? An NDA or something?”

“Just a moment, okay?” And with that, she left.

“God, I fucking hate it here,” Sungchan grumbled into your shoulder. “Let’s just go, whatever NDA or whatever the hell they want you to sign is going to suck and be coercive as shit and not worth it. It probably won’t even be enforceable or whatever.”

“I can’t even tell how much of that is even good or bad legal advice. I think all of it was probably bad?”

“It’s definitely going to be written by that fucking skeeze who interviewed you for like seven hours straight, which means it’s going to be bad.”

“What if it’s stuff for my severance pay and benefits? Ms. Kwon also said she’d write me a letter of rec if the investigation went well—”

“Y/N!” “Y/N!” You were cut off by two familiar voices calling your name from down the hall, and whipped your head around to look, your jaw dropping in disbelief. Jaemin and Renjun were rushing towards you, waving all four of their arms wildly, as if you could miss them. You squealed, darting over to them and throwing your arms around their necks.

“Oh my god!” You laughed as they hugged you tightly. “I wasn’t expecting to see you guys today!”

“We were specifically not told when you were coming,” Renjun admitted. “I even got blocked out of the Executive calendars for the month.”

“Ms. Kwon just came and got us,” Jaemin said. “Though, word had already spread.”

“Are you sure you want to be seen with me?” You double-checked, looking around despite being in a rather empty corner of the building. “I don’t know what people have being saying, but based on the less-than-warm-welcome we got at reception, it doesn’t seem like it’s been good.”

“Do we want to be seen with our friend?” Renjun poked the right side of your head.

“Duh.” Jaemin poked the left side of your head.

“Yeah, I didn’t miss that.” You scowled at them.

“It’s so weird seeing you in normal clothes,” Jaemin commented, making you really look between their jumpsuits and your blouse and pants.

“It’s still a bit weird being in normal clothes,” you sighed.

“So… you going to introduce us?” Renjun nodded to where Sungchan was still standing awkwardly by himself in the waiting area.

“Yeah, come on!” You grabbed them by the arms to drag them over. Sungchan looked up from where he had been busying himself with a loose thread on his dress shirt, eyes landing expectantly on you. You let go of your friends to loop your arm with his. “Sungchan, this is Jaemin and Renjun, we used to work together. Jaemin’s desk was next to mine out in the bullpen, and Renjun was a few desks down from us. Guys, this is Jung Sungchan, my soulmate.”

You could hear your voice pitch up with giddiness as you introduced Sungchan in that way, and watched as his face relaxed into a smile as soon as you had called him your soulmate. He offered his free hand out to the other two.

“Nice to meet you guys,” he said sincerely. “I’ve heard good things from Y/N.”

“Then she must’ve been talking about a different Jaemin,” Renjun snorted.

“And a different Renjun,” Jaemin agreed.

“So, what are the wild theories about how I did it?” You asked. “Not the official one, I know you two don’t know that. But the breakroom gossip, the water cooler chat, the cereal death match chatter.”

“Rumor has it…” Jaemin lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. “You were desperate to reunite with a long-lost childhood love and that’s why you applied to be a matchmaker.”

You snorted. “Cheesy.”

“I heard one about Ms. Kwon being in on it because you’re her secret daughter,” Renjun grinned.

“Ooh, that one’s good.”

“With someone with a string.”

You mock gasped. “Scandalous.”

Jaemin added, “I heard a version sort of like that, but you were Ms. Kwon and the Director’s secret daughter, which is obviously how you had enough pull to get it to happen.”

“Then how did I end up with my parents? Did they pay them off to adopt me?” You frowned, trying to figure out this bonkers drama plot of your fake life.

“Get this…” Jaemin paused for dramatic effect. “Your dad is the Director’s secret brother. So your parents are actually your aunt and your uncle.”

“I should’ve thought of that!” You shook your head, laughing.

“A lot of people don’t think you did anything, though,” Renjun assured you. “Seriously, most of the stuff I’m hearing is people being surprised that it hasn’t happened before.”

“That’s good to know.”

“PR is going to have a hell of a time,” Jaemin chuckled.

“Sucks to be Mark Lee right now, huh?” You grinned.

“Oh, I know that man has been sleeping under his desk for the past two weeks.”

You wrinkled your nose. “God, the seventh floor has got to be fucking rank by now. Please tell me Jeno and Donghyuck have at least been making him go home to shower.”

“Chenle did.” Your friends said in unison, making you burst into laughter at the mental image.

“God, I would’ve paid money to see that.” You chuckled. As much as you loved seeing your friends again, this wasn’t where you belonged anymore, and you had skipped lunch in that unnecessarily long interview. So with a sigh, you announced, “Anyway, it was so good to see you guys again, but we need to get going, and I’m sure you have work to finish up.”

“Unfortunately,” Renjun sighed.

“We’ll get drinks—dinner and drinks, the usual place—all four of us,” Jaemin declared as he went in to hug you goodbye. “Okay?”

“For sure,” you agreed with a grin. “You still need to give me my fucking book back, Na Jaemin.”

“He’s just a fucking thief!” Renjun complained as he went to hug you as well. “Bye, Y/N. See you again soon.”

The guys all exchanged a final wave and ‘nice to meet you,’ before your former coworkers headed back. You looked up at Sungchan, about to ask if he was ready to go, and saw him already gazing down at you thoughtfully.

“What?” You asked instead, furrowing your brow.

“Now I get how you could stand working here for five years.” He rubbed your back. “It wasn’t the Factory itself; it was the people you found here.”

“W-Well yeah. I liked my coworkers. But I also liked my job.”

“Yeah, but I like my job too, and I work alone at my studio. I like that. I prefer that. If I had to make small talk with a bunch of different people all day on top of doing my job, I think I’d start biting people,” he explained. “You didn’t just make small talk, you made friends.”

“I guess I’m a people person,” you shrugged, never really thinking about something that was so normal to you. “Is that weird?”

“No, it’s good. Just want to make sure you have people around that you like at your new job too.” He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to him. “Now come on, if your lunch in there was anything like mine out here, then it was approximately four saltine crackers and some water.”

“Where are we going to eat?” You asked as the two of you headed towards the stairs.

“I live nearby. I want to talk about whatever the fuck that skeeze did in there for seven hours.” His voice was tense again at the mention of the interview. After a beat, he tacked on almost nervously, “If that’s okay. We can go somewhere else if you want.”

You encircled an arm around his waist as the two of emerged into the empty courtyard. “Your place works for me. I agree, we shouldn’t talk about that out in the open.”

Despite Sungchan both picking you up and walking you home from seeing each other many times over the past couple weeks, you had yet to actually be in each other’s homes before. You hadn’t even seen the outside of his place. You knew the general area of where he lived, as he had mentioned it while giving context for some stories he’d told you. The two of you also hadn’t been this… touchy before. Whenever you saw him, it always felt sort of like you were hanging out with a friend, if you ignored the string. You didn’t hug hello or goodbye, didn’t hold hands, nothing other than the little teasing elbow digs. It never occurred to you to really bring it up to him before, that technically, according to Bureau statistics, you two were taking it slow, because that would be a fucking weird thing to say—and also, you didn’t mind. You didn’t mind doing this at whatever pace it happened at.

But now, all of this all at once, it was making you a bit dizzy. In a good way, if that was possible, but still off-kilter.

Sungchan stopped in front of the door to a townhouse in a long row of townhouses, each one with a different, colorfully painted door. His was pistachio green. When he finally opened it up and pulled you in by the hand, you immediately started looking around with eager eyes. He said he hated people looking at his art and making assumptions about him, but he said nothing about his home.

“Kitchen, living room, and laundry room are on the first floor, bedroom and bathroom are on the second,” he told you over his shoulder, taking you through a narrow entryway before emerging into the connected living room and kitchen area. You already knew his studio was at a different location from his home due to the sheer scale of the pieces he made.

His walls were all filled with art, but you immediately figured it wasn’t his. They were drawings, paintings, doodles on napkins, anything and everything. It looked like dozens, maybe even hundreds of different artists in all sorts of styles. Some professional, but most clearly not.

“Everyone who comes to my place has to pay,” he explained. “They owe me a piece of art.” Walking over to the very first wall that your eyes would see upon entering, he pointed to a piece of copy paper with random crayon scribbles on it that was displayed dead in the center. He grinned. “Not even babies are exempt. My nephew.”

“What happens when you fill up your walls?” You asked curiously, following him into the kitchen, which had even more art.

“Guess I’ll have to find a bigger place with bigger walls.” He seemed to be searching for a specific piece, then pointed to a small napkin drawing of seven cartoon heads grinning. “Sohee. Guy said he couldn’t draw then busted that out after some soju. With a pen! I know you haven’t met the other guys, but it looks just like us. Guess which one’s me.”

You hummed thoughtfully, then pointed to a face in the top left.

“Yep!” He beamed proudly, as if it had been his own drawing. He started naming all the other guys in the drawing. “Shotaro, Wonbin, Sohee, Seunghan, Anton, and Eunseok.” Then, he drew your attention to what looked like an invoice for air conditioning repair services, with a pencil sketch of an older woman in the corner of it. “A/C repair guy. Just pulled that out of nowhere. It’s his wife, they met when he went up to her in public saying she was so beautiful he had to draw her. That was before they had their strings. He said he just knew, would’ve known without the string anyway. His art didn’t take off, hence why he was my A/C repair guy.”

“So is it a piece of art every time a person comes over, or just one piece of art, and that’s the toll paid forever?”

“One piece of art per person, debt is cleared forever,” he clarified, opening his fridge to root around in it. “I’ve had some artist friends defer their pieces for future visits because they wanted to make a proper, good piece. You know, put real time into it.”

“It’s good, Sungchan,” you grinned, still looking around at more of the art on the walls. “I love it all.”

“I know, now I don’t have to worry about my furniture matching my décor.”

“Yeah, but it’s also…” You breathed in happily as you tried to figure out how to say it. “You called me a people person earlier. You are too, just in a different way.”

He looked around doubtfully. “You think so? I literally said I would bite people if I had to talk to them. I don’t know if my people skills are really up to par for being labelled a people person.”

“Your entire house is wallpapered in art from just ordinary people that you’ve met. Your friends and family, an A/C repair guy. Call me crazy, but I think you like people.”

“Huh. Never thought of it like that.” He grabbed a few more things from the fridge, then the pantry. “Anton just calls it a weird powerplay, and one time Eunseok said he thought I like ‘asserting my dominance.’”

You laughed, “Maybe you’ve just got weird friends if they think you asking them to make you art is you trying to dominate them.”

“Not going to argue with you there.”

“Can I defer my art to another visit?” You requested. “I mean… I’ll probably be over more than once, right?”

He smiled softly. “Probably. And sure, you can defer. But you’re not getting out of it just because you’re my soulmate. If anything, I think that means you definitely owe me something I can point to when people come over and say, ‘my soulmate made that one.’”

After getting a quick and simple lunch together, you and Sungchan took it to his living room to eat, as he didn’t have a dining table. You sat with your back against the arm of the couch, facing Sungchan as your legs were criss-crossed under you.

You started, “So, what did AD Yang—” “Who?”

“The guy who interviewed us? The man with Ms. Kwon?”

“Oh, the skeeze.”

“Yeah. So what did Mr. Yang—” “Who?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting to keep the amused smile off your lips. “So what did the skeeze ask you? I want to know that first, before we talk about mine. Because like, when I think about the amount of time it took Jeno to walk you up there, introductions, goodbyes, then for Jeno to take you to the waiting room, then come get me… I mean, that whole time was like fifteen minutes. So you probably only talked to them for a few minutes, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, it was just a bunch of stuff they probably already knew.” He shrugged. “When did I realize I had the string? When did you and I meet? Did I know that you worked at the Factory when we met? When did I learn that you worked at the Factory? Did I know you before the string? Did I know anybody else at the Factory who could have manipulated the match for me? Then… that was it.”

“Makes sense. You didn’t have any ties to the Factory other than me.”

“So what the fuck happened in there that the skeeze thought he needed to take seven fucking hours?”

“I don’t think it would have taken that long, except…” You scratched your head awkwardly. “I’m the one who read our match and submitted the match report.”

Sungchan’s eyes widened. “Wait, really? But how did you not— Don’t you look that stuff up?”

“Reading the matches, and looking up the profiles, it’s all anonymous. It’s not like I saw it and my brain read it as ‘Jung Sungchan and Y/L/N Y/N.’ It was just… sort of like, the impression of profile numbers, I guess? It was like any other match to me, there was nothing special about it to me.” You screwed your face up as you desperately tried to both explain the matchmaking process to someone who had never been near the process at all, and as you tried to recall anything about that specific match at all, which you of course couldn’t. “And the profile numbers when I looked them up, it didn’t show me names or pictures, or any sort of identifying data when I would do that. It’s all completely anonymous, for good reason.” When you opened your eyes again, Sungchan was still staring at you, and your stomach dropped as you realized what you had just said. “Sungchan, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that you’re not special, of course you are, but when I would be matching, you’re sort of not yourself and—”

“Woah, woah, sorry, I didn’t mean to zone out and make you worry like that,” he apologized, setting his bowl aside and turning to fully face you. “I was just thinking… How many people get to say that their soulmate was the one who gave them their own red string? Like, that’s so cool.”

“Uh… nobody? We’re probably the only ones.”

“Exactly. It doesn’t matter if it felt special to you in that moment or not. Because it still was. I mean, did it feel special when you decided to stop and look at that book at the bookstore? In the split-second that you made the decision?”

You shook your head. “No, I just, wanted to look at the book.”

“And me running after the Frisbee when Anton missed for like the sixth time that morning didn’t feel special in that second. But both of those things were, because it took both of them happening at the same time for us to meet.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, looking down at your food, then up at Sungchan. Setting your bowl aside as well, you then asked, “Is that what a soulmate is, then?”

“What? A Frisbee nearly hitting you in the face?”

“No,” you chuckled. “I mean—Jaemin, Renjun, and I were talking one night, and we were debating about what a soulmate really was. I was in an existential spiral over our red string, they were having a fun little philosophical discussion. They didn’t know about the string yet. We couldn’t decide if a soulmate was just the best that you do, or somebody who would make you better, or infinite second chances.”

“So what do you think a soulmate is now?”

“Someone that makes all the nooks and crannies in your life special, even if they wouldn’t usually be. Just by being there.”

Sungchan absolutely beamed, nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah, yeah. I… like that.”

“What do you think a soulmate is?”

“I’ve always figured every pair of soulmates needs something different from each other,” he replied. “And I think you figured out what we need from each other. To make all the nooks and crannies of our lives special just by being there.”

“Okay…” You agreed softly, a fond smile coming to your lips as he offered his hand out, palm out. You set your hand atop his, your chest squeezing your heart at the same time Sungchan squeezed your hand.

“Now… tell me everything that fucking skeeze said. Everything you can remember.”

“Oh my god, Sungchan.”

“You were in there for seven hours, Y/N!”

“He asked me the same one and a half hours of questions like five times. I was going to start biting people by hour three.”

[sungchan: omw :) ]

[you: okey!]

[sungchan: :( ]

[you: okey! :) ]

[sungchan: :) ]

Laughing to yourself at Sungchan’s attachment to emoticons in texts, you grabbed the last few things that you’d need for your date today. It was the last week that his exhibit was available at the museum, and between your hectic schedule of interviews, and phone interviews, and callback interviews for jobs, in addition to his own schedule, this was finally the day that you two had been able to arrange to go together. A few minutes later, your phone lit up again.

[sungchan: outside :) ]

[you: omw down <3 ]

You saw him start typing, but then he stopped, presumably figuring that he’d be able to tell you whatever it was to your face in thirty seconds. Rushing down, you threw open the front door already with a smile that only grew tenfold as you looked up at Sungchan.

“Hi!” You greeted him, locking up behind you before giving him a hug.

“Good morning.” He readjusted your jacket, pulling it more snugly around your collar for you. “You going to be warm enough in that?”

A cold snap had come through last night, dropping the temperature and forcing you to get your fall wardrobe out early. You raised an eyebrow, looping your arm with his to pull him over to the bus stop to wait. “The museum is heated inside, isn’t it?”

“Well yeah…”

“Then I think my biggest problem would be having to carry a heavy jacket around the museum the whole time.”

When the bus arrived, you were just a bit disoriented by there being completely different passengers—after all, it was a different time of day than your previous daily commute, and you and Sungchan went to sit in a different row. You took the window seat, always loving to watch the passing scenery, and to give Sungchan the extra leg room of the aisle. As the bus took off, you squinted, unable to see much through the fogged-up glass. Sungchan reached a hand past you, and you watched with interest as he drew a heart in the condensation on the window. You giggled and took your own pointer finger to the empty space in the heart, carefully tracing out JSC, then your initials, then a plus in the middle, feeling very much like a preteen doodling on your math homework.

When you looked back at him, you saw that his ears were pink, and you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or not, but he grabbed your right hand with his left, both of your index fingers still a bit chilly from drawing on the window. He rested your linked hands on your lap, and though you couldn’t quite see it from this angle, you knew that the string that connected your pinkies was complete. You leaned your head on his shoulder to look out the window, through the lines made with your little heart.

At the art museum, you excitedly stuck your visitor sticker to your shirt before pulling Sungchan in further by the hand. You looked up at the huge skylight in the main atrium, providing an abundance of natural light on a large abstract sculpture in a bold orange color. “It’s beautiful in here.”

“Have you ever been to this museum?” Sungchan asked curiously as you stopped to watch a cloud pass over the skylight.

“No, I haven’t,” you replied quietly, turning your gaze down to the sculpture in front of you. “I’ve lived here my whole life and it’s one of those places that I’ve always been meaning to go to but, I don’t know, I just haven’t yet.”

“Yeah, I’ve got some places like that,” he said in understanding. “Let’s make a list, both of us. And we’ll cross them off together.”

“Okay, yeah.” You smiled at him, squeezing his hand. “Together.”

Sungchan’s exhibit was in the first gallery past the lobby atrium, and you two had gone at a pretty perfect time for it to be empty of everybody except the docents. You came to a stop as soon as you entered, unsure of where to put your eyes first. When you heard large-scale mixed media collages, you weren’t sure if you had really processed how large ‘large-scale’ was. The gallery was probably fifty meters across, the longest wall being taken up entirely by one single piece. There were only five pieces total in the gallery, one on each wall and one suspended in the middle of the room. You were sure that you could spend hours just looking at one of them.

You decided to start at the one closest to you, and work your way towards the back, where the entrance to the next gallery was. There was a plaque with information about the piece and the artist on it, which you entirely discarded. You commented on things you liked or found interesting as if you were just talking to yourself, not expecting Sungchan to respond at all. And truly, you were just talking to yourself, mostly gasping and muttering all of these things under your breath with delight—after all, you were in a museum, you had to use your inside voice. He’d sometimes chuckle or hum with interest, but that was the extent of him engaging with your commentary, just following you as you slowly trailed down the pieces, then sometimes jumped back to a place that you had already looked over as you made a connection, then went down again. Until you finally made it to the behemoth piece.

Despite being the largest, it had the most fine detail, the smallest individual parts making it up. And that almost felt intentional. Part of you wanted to ask Sungchan that, but you bit your tongue. Instead, you raked your eyes over every square centimeter, drinking in as much as you possibly could. The docent who was standing in the corner switched out while you were looking over that piece, and for a brief second, you wondered if any of the employees had recognized Sungchan. It had never occurred to you that random people on the street would, but in the art museum where he quite literally has an exhibit displaying his art, under his real name… If they did, nobody had made any indication as to such.

Then your attention was sucked back in by the collage in front of you. By the time you were finished, you weren’t sure how much time had passed, only that your feet hurt. You didn’t say anything to Sungchan, only gave his exhibit one more proud look before turning the corner into the next gallery. This one had a dark, heavy curtain dividing it from the rest of the museum, and you immediately knew why. There was a sign at the beginning, the letters lit up so you could read it: ‘The Beauty of Light’

The building’s main overhead lights were completely out, so that the only light provided was from a few along the floor so you could see your step, and the exhibit itself. There were mirrors, glass panes, and colorful lights set up all around the room, refracting all sorts of seemingly impossibly arrays of colors and designs along the surfaces.

“Woah…” You breathed out, reaching out to catch a rainbow on your palm, immediately laughing with wonder.

“It’s interactive,” Sungchan informed you, adjusting the equipment making the rainbow so that there was a whole starburst of rainbows all across you.

“Okay, that’s really fucking cool.” You could feel the huge grin on your face.

“I really didn’t want to see you reacting to my art, actually. I usually hate seeing people looking at my works.”

You looked up at him, confused. “Then why did you want to come with me?”

“I knew they had this exhibit here, and I knew I had to be there when you saw it.” He moved the glass just a bit more, and you weren’t sure where the rainbows had ended up now, but he seemed satisfied as a tender smile came to his lips. “Beautiful.”

“It’s incredible,” you gushed, looking around the room at more of the cool effects being done with lights, then back to Sungchan. You held your hand out towards him, and he walked out from behind the equipment, taking your hand again. Now that he was next to you, some of the rainbows were sticking to his skin and clothes, and you couldn’t help but smile as one caught on his nose.

“Thank you for bearing through the horror of seeing somebody see your art to experience this with me,” you half-teased, swinging your linked hands. Though your words were exaggerated, your sentiment was sincere.

“I said I usually hate seeing people look at my works, but I liked watching you in the exhibit. It didn’t feel like you were performing for me,” he said with a grin. “I could probably watch you watch paint dry.”

“You’re being hyperbolic,” you scoffed.

“I’ve got some paint at my place, want to find out?”

“As thrilling as that sounds, maybe later,” you snorted. “I’m not done with the beauty of light.”

“Hey, no complaints here.” Sungchan ran his thumb over your cheek, still looking down at you with an unbelievable tenderness in his gaze. “Hm…”

“What?” You whispered, your voices suddenly sounding too loud in the empty gallery. The docent had stepped out, and another hadn’t come back in. It was just you and Sungchan in this room.

“Tried to wipe the rainbow off your cheek…”

“Let me guess, didn’t work?”

“Well, it did, kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Moved to your mouth.” He traced the bottom line of your bottom lip with the very tip of his thumb, and you felt like you weren’t breathing, waiting for him to do something, anything.

“Sounds like a problem.” You put your hand over his, pushing it to your face so he was cradling your cheek.

Sungchan was smiling as he kissed you, you could feel it in the sweet press of his lips to yours, the soft tilting of your chin up to meet his. You squeezed the hand down by your side even tighter. He broke the kiss as gently as he had started it, still smiling down at you. You suddenly shot up to your tiptoes and wrapped your hand around his neck to pull his head down so you could peck the bridge of his nose, giggling when you had released him and he stood back up with a confused but affectionate look on his face.

“And what was that for?” He asked with a chuckle.

“You had a rainbow on your nose.” You told him very seriously. “We’ve established that you have to kiss them off, obviously.”

“Well in that case—” He proceeded to kiss your forehead, cheek, hair, and mouth again in quick succession.

You were laughing, your entire body buzzing from head to toe as you leaned against him both in a bid just be closer, and also because you felt like your knees might just give out. When you heard footsteps enter the gallery again, you bit your lip to stop your giggles, and Sungchan left you with one more fleeting peck to your temple before standing up straight and bringing you over to the next area of the exhibit.

Groaning and sleepily rolling over onto your back, you were vaguely aware of the fact that you had rolled directly back into someone’s chest, and contentedly snuggled further into your position. An arm snaked around your waist, pulling your hips flush to theirs, and you smiled to yourself as you started drifting back off to sleep.

“Y/N?” Came a low rumble of your name from behind you.

You were nearly asleep again, and decided to just pretend you didn’t hear him.

“Baby?” He whispered, a little louder.

“Shh, Sungie,” you hummed. “Still sleeping.”

“Y/N…”

“Sungchan, my love, shut the fuck up and let me sleep.”

Deciding your discussion was finished, you rolled onto your front again and pushed your face into your pillow. He just followed you to that side of the bed, and you felt the pillow dip as he rested his head on it as well. Sungchan ran a hand up and down your spine, the covers dropping lower with his movements.

Realizing that he wasn’t going to be letting you sleep in today, you lifted your face out of your pillow and propped yourself up on your elbows to glare at him. “What is so important that I can’t sleep in on a Saturday when I don’t have to open?”

“You said you wanted to go to that breakfast place, and it closes in an hour,” he informed you quietly, face reminding you very much of a guilty puppy in that moment.

You looked at the time on his bedside clock, and flopped back down with a groan. “Well it’s too fucking late now. Next week.”

“Sorry, baby.” He squeezed your shoulder. “I would’ve woken you up sooner, but usually you’re the one who wakes me up for this kind of stuff. I just woke up a couple minutes ago.”

“Mm, it’s okay, Sungie,” you sighed and turned onto your back, offering him a sleepy smile to let him know that you weren’t mad at him at all. Now in a particularly lovely and warm patch of sunlight, you couldn’t imagine even getting up to go to the bathroom, much less a restaurant. “I think my sleep schedule from working at the Factory is finally gone. My body isn’t used to getting up for a nine to five anymore.”

“Oh, hold on.” He reached for his phone off the nightstand, and you immediately knew what was coming based on his change in demeanor. With a half-resigned, half-endeared sigh, you threw an arm over your face to hide it as he stood up to start taking pictures of you. He called for you with a slight whine in his voice, “Baby…”

“I have bedhead and morning breath, Sungie.”

“You can’t tell if you have morning breath in a picture.”

“And the bedhead?”

“So? Prettiest bedhead I’ve ever seen.”

“Subject gets to decide if you see her bedhead.”

He was quiet, but his pout was deafening as he continued taking pictures of you laying in the morning sunlight.

“Actually…” There was a curl of a smile in his tone as he plopped back down on the mattress. “I like it. Reminds me of those Baroque statues of Greek goddesses.”

You dropped your arm from your face and shuffled closer to be able to peer at his screen. The similarity of the pose was uncanny, but it also reminded you of something else.

“Or Ophelia…” You snorted.

“She doesn’t have an arm over her face.”

“Yeah but like, the general vibe, you know?”

He laughed, sinking into the pillows to make a few minor edits to the color toning. You settled your head on his chest to mindlessly watch him work, knowing that at least one of these photos would be printed out and added to the wall.

When you had admitted to him one night that you felt a lot of pressure over what piece of art to make him to put on his walls as part of his house rule, he suggested that the two of you make one together. So far all of his guests’ art had been relegated to the first floor, so the walls of his bedroom were entirely blank. Starting in the middle of the largest wall, above the long side of his bed, you two had begun a collage. Adding pictures that you two took of each other, pictures other people took of you two, pictures you took of places that you went on dates together, and any miscellaneous thing from your time that had acquired fond memories and Sungchan could figure out a way to stick to the wall. It had slowly started growing, and sometimes you liked to just lay in bed and look at it. One time you’d asked Sungchan what he was going to do when he moved out of this place, and he’d said cut out that section of wall and take it with him. At the time, you had laughed, but now you weren’t so sure it was a joke. Honestly, they could just put more wall in, right?

“There,” Sungchan murmured with finality, and you heard his portable photo film printer start whirring to life from his desk in the corner.

“Put it up later,” you requested, wrapping an arm around his middle and burying your face in his neck. “Don’t want you get up…”

“Fine by me.” He hugged you to him tightly, readjusting you so you were practically on top of him. “Are you on the afternoon shift or the closing shift?”

“Ahrin had her sister’s wedding today, so I’m doing afternoon and closing.”

“God, nobody else could take her shift?”

“I needed the money,” you shrugged. “Severance pay is gone and amazingly, part-time bookstore clerk doesn’t pay as well as full-time matchmaker at the Factory did.”

You’d been having a difficult time finding a job since quitting the Factory. Despite companies and organizations seemingly tripping over themselves to want to interview you, it was crickets when it came time to actually follow through after that. Even with your immaculate letter of recommendation from Ms. Kwon. At most of the interviews, you got the distinct impression that they just wanted a chance to meet the Factory employee who “rigged it,” and not actually interview you. After all, who would want such a dishonest and untrustworthy employee at their company. The only place that had offered you a job was your favorite bookstore by the park, which you were more than grateful for.

“I told you, you can live here,” Sungchan reminded you gently.

“I already practically do,” you retorted. “But I still have a lease on my place, and have to pay whether I’m here seven days a week or not.”

“Then why don’t you cut your lease? Isn’t there an early leave payment or something? That has to be cheaper than continuing to pay for the next however many months when you don’t even live there.”

“I—” You swallowed thickly, your voice getting smaller. “You really mean that?”

“Of course I mean that.”

“Me actually moving in?”

“Yes, you actually moving in.”

“Okay.” You beamed into his shirt. “I’ll look into the early leave payment.”

“Send your lease to Jihun to look over,” he suggested, referencing his sister’s husband.

“He’s not a lawyer.”

“No, but he’s got a couple. And he’s good with contracts and haggling. Bet he can get that fee payment cut in half.” You lifted your head, about to argue with asking for favors like that, when Sungchan cupped your jaw and tilted your chin so you were looking right at him. His red string hung in the air just in the corner of your eye. He held your gaze steadily. “It’s what family does, Y/N.”

“Okay,” you murmured, nodding against his hand. “Yeah, family.”

He pulled you forward and up to crash your lips together, his fingers tangling in your hair, and your hands flew to his chest to keep yourself upright. You felt your love for him filling every nook and cranny of your body, and you knew it was something special, because it was yours.

➥ masterlist

#sungchan x reader #riize x reader #sungchan imagines #riize imagines #sungchan #sungchan imagine #riize imagine #nct x reader #nct imagine #nct imagines #jung sungchan #i: sungchan #f: tsf #writing #text #mine #bias tag #*100 #*200

[the-au-thor]

HEEEEY what about the bestfriend blurb with Spenceeeerrr

Im dying here you know

have a great day

I appreciate you screaming the hey out of me. Am at the hospital because this almost-27-year-old-little-girl discovered she is a chronic asthmatic :) I don't wanna die and I don't want you to die sooo, you asked you'll receive.

Note from this author: This is more than a blurb, but we will still call it a blurb. It contains delicate topics so, I recommend reading the warning contents here AND I'm a pretender and delusional writer, and a super cool nurse answered my creepy questions last night during his shift. There's a bunch of medical terms I'm using here that are probably so very erroneous so my apologies, play along with me, please.

Also theres a part 1, 2 and 3

Bestfriend Blurb #4

Summary: You and Spencer are best friends and colleagues who are deeply in love for each other but oblivious at the same time. Let's see how much it takes for them to find out.

Words: 1.3 k

DELICATE CONTENT read the warning

You had put on your headphones; that was a clear "not to disturb" signal for everyone around. Something that slightly bothered Hotchner was that you were indeed doing so in the middle of a police station during an investigation into a series of murders. He didn't say anything because, at least, you had gone to get them decent coffee (not the one the sheriff's secretary made), and you were reviewing on the map the locations where the child abductions were occurring and where the unsub had left the bodies.

Your brow was furrowed, and you hadn't added sugar to your coffee; Spencer observed this from a distance with curiosity. You always added sugar, especially in the morning. They had been sent to Maryland after a case involving an unknown subject who kidnapped infants and left them in public places for everyone to see a day or two later. It was a complicated case, especially because they were children, and the time between abduction and death was so short that it seemed hopeless for the families.

"They just kidnapped another child. Tommy Gibson, three years old," Sheriff Saget entered the room they had been given for the case investigation. You turned, taking off your headphones, paying attention for the first time to something other than the points marked on the map. Spencer could hear Janis's raspy voice coming from your headphones even from a distance. "Same victimology, same modus operandi; he killed the person he was taking care by, his godmother, and took him from the scene in broad daylight. His parents arrived two hours after leaving him and recognized the signs from the news. They immediately called the police to report it," he added, "We've sent everything to your analyst, and she'll be investigating it," he announced, and as if on cue, their phones started ringing, indicating the influx of information that Penelope was undoubtedly sending them.

Hotchner hurried to contact her and put her on speaker to bring everyone up to date.

"Does it say if there was any kind of violence?" J.J. asked.

The sheriff nodded as Penelope grimaced with displeasure.

"Yes, the door was smashed, but there wasn't much violence in Tommy's godmother's death. The blow was gruesome but effective."

"He killed her with a rigid object, a poker; an investigation is underway right now," Rossi remarked, focused on the police report.

"He used a knife and a hammer for the previous ones," Derek added with technical expertise.

"Because he doesn't care about them. The nanny, the grandmother, and the godmother were just a means to an end," you murmured, leaning your hands on the table and looking directly at Rossi.

"I'm getting permission for public security cameras," Penelope rushed to inform. "Crosses social lines, but so far, he has stuck with the same race; Caucasian boys between two and three years old," Derek said with technical experience.

"Tommy's parents are on their way to give their version of the events," the sheriff informed Hotchner, who nodded.

He turned to Penelope, "Anything else, Garcia?"

"So far, there isn't much connecting the children except their age. I'll be looking into them a bit more. There has to be something in common," Penelope said her goodbyes and immediately started gathering information, ending the call.

Everyone looked at Hotchner, awaiting his directive. He looked at J.J. and Prentiss.

"J.J., you and Emily will go with Tommy's parents. David, Derek, and I will go to the morgue to find out more informationabout this unsub." Then his eyes landed on you, and you knew exactly what he would say next. "You and Spencer will go to the crime scene and figure out what connects Tommy to the rest of the abducted children." You nodded, stretching your back and getting ready to leave. "One more thing; take your camera and leave those headphones."

You felt your cheeks warm with embarrassment, swiftly removing the headphones, nodding.

"Yes, sir," you mumbled, starting to leave the place, trying to focus on the case and not the recent slight embarrassment.

"Are you okay?" Spencer hurried to catch up with you, concerned. You nodded, but that didn't satisfy him. "Is it because of the children?"

"Wait!" both of you heard from behind, turning to see a police officer stopping you with excitement. "The sheriff told me to go with you and see your work."

You sighed, looking at the pretty blonde approaching, you finally answered Spencer "Of course, it's about the children."

If Spencer hadn't been too busy answering the officer's incessant questions from the back seat of the car, he would have realized that it wasn't about the children. In fact, the real issue was much more humiliating. Apart from hating cases involving children, the real problem was that you knew there was something you weren't seeing right in front of your eyes, and it wasn't due to something serious. No, the culprit was, in fact, sitting right behind you, smiling at your best friend while polishing his red apple . You gripped the steering wheel, trying not to make it obvious that her presence was irritating you.

But if you were honest, much more honest; it wasn't just that. You recognized in the young officer the enthusiasm and curiosity you felt when starting your career at the academy. You could even understand her annoying infatuation with Spencer's intelligence or how she couldn't help but gravitate toward him like Peter Pan's little Tinkerbell. What irritated you in a wild and unprofessional way was that Spencer seemed to enjoy it. You had never seen him smile so much in the past few hours since arriving in Maryland, and that made you furious because you couldn't remember making him smile like that ever.

"It's incredible that he graduated so young from college, and the FBI considered him for an elite position," the girl mentioned with an admiring sigh, then turned to you, "Isn't that amazing?"

"Astonishingly breathtaking" you ironically murmured under your breath but unable to deny it.

"Is there anything from fieldwork that has been a real challenge for you?" she asked.

"I can think of a few," you replied quietly, of course, unable to avoid glancing at her sideways through the rearview mirror with an ironic tone.

"I'm sorry; I know I'm sometimes too enthusiastic. But you guys are my heroes; the FBI is the main reason I wanted to join law enforcement in the first place," she replied somewhat embarrassed.

You wanted to scream in frustration because the girl was nice and entirely innocent, and you were unloading your unreasonable anger on her for no reason.

"Don't apologize. It's that spirit that will lead you to save people and do a good job," you allowed yourself to rectify that uncomfortable impasse caused by you. It was the least you could do after sending tranquilizing darts through your eyes since you met her.

You tried to avoid Spencer's concerned gaze until you reached the Gibson's house, but you couldn't simply stop watching them. You knew something about that didn't sit right with you, but you turned your attention back to the officer's interested gestures and Spencer's animated smile to bury the splinter that had been constantly pricking your insides, almost leaving you breathless. You heard her laugh, then her hand squeezed Spencer's arm.

"Agent, you're so funny."

Okaaaaaay. That's it. You're done. Adiós

Without warning, you turned around, showed your badge to the officer guarding Tommy's house, and started taking photos inside without knowing what you were really looking for. Well, you were trying not to think about the officer and her enthusiastic hands on Spencer's biceps.

"What's wrong with you?" Spencer's question made you jump as you took photos of the kitchen where the child and his godmother were presumed to have been when the unknown subject surprised them.

"Nothing; just doing what Hotchner asked me to do," you announced, bringing the camera to your face and taking another photo of the broken chair and plates on the floor, "and your admirer?" you asked with a trembling voice, looking at how the photo turned out and examining the details.

Spencer furrowed his brow, you knew even if you couldn't see it from your angle. But he approached you with his hands in his front pockets.

"She stayed chatting with her colleagues at the entrance. What's bothering you about her?" You frowned and looked at Spencer, almost offended.

"What's bothering me...? Nothing! She's just a bit annoying, but it's okay; I understand her," you quickly replied, walking through the room and looking around with curiosity.

"Yeah, because that's why you'd be blasting Janis Joplin so loud that even a cow would be startled." You sharpened your gaze, looking at him through your lashes.

"I'm surprised you had time to notice anything with all the giggles she was getting out of you." You wanted to hit yourself; cut off your damn tongue or something.

You should have changed the subject; raised the white flag of surrender, but instead, you gave the most perceptive person on the planet material to soon draw the most accurate conclusion; that you were so jealous.

"What are you talking about?" Spencer asked, his face contorting into a confused and almost disgusted expression.

"Forget it," you snapped almost like an order.

"No; you said it. You have to explain it now."

"Spencer..." you murmured, rolling your eyes at his insistence, but you knew he wouldn't give up on this.

"No. I want to know what you mean."

"Nothing!" you grunted. "Just that you're smiling," you pointed, looking him in the eyes, feeling defeated just by saying it. "All morning you've been talking to her, and you've been happy and smiling, and...I've never seen you like this with anyone, and it's...weird," you admitted and finally downplayed it with a wave of your hand, "Forget it," you sighed, "it's not your fault."

"My fault for what?" You looked at him again.

"That a police officer who barely knows you knows better how to make you laugh than I, your best friend, do," you muttered, feeling your emotions reaching their limit and your irrational anger and jealousy starting to sting your eyes with tears. But you wouldn't cry.

Spencer furrowed his brow, his gaze suddenly a bit more relaxed, and the sparkle in his eyes indicated that he was understanding better how you felt. And then came that gesture of pity, and you refused to let him feel that way for you. "Hey..."

"Agents, do you think you've gathered enough evidence? I have officers on an extended shift who will collapse from hunger any minute now. They haven't eaten anything for hours, except for that gluten-free hummus and cookies the Gibsons offered them when they arrived," one of the officers entered the kitchen, interrupting the conversation.Thanks to the Universe.

"That's it, officer," you replied, turning off the camera and starting to walk towards the door with Spencer. Then you stopped, extending your hand and gently tapping Spencer's abdomen, halting his steps too. "Hummus and gluten-free cookies," you looked at Spencer. "Richard Collins, the first victim. Didn't his family consume fruits and vegetables without pesticides from their own greenhouse?"

It took him only a few seconds to analyze what you were saying. "And Bobby's family had a sustainable irrigation system," he recalled the first victim. "Call Penelope, something in this has to be connected."

"The results of the forensic analysis indicate a high production of Interleukin-1," Spencer spoke into the phone as you, he, and his cheerleader were already settled in the car, heading back to the station. "However, these kids had never experienced high fevers in their lives"

Their families were all anti-vaxxers. Despite leading healthy lives, and their parents being very responsible with their children's health, they hadn't taken them to their measles vaccination appointment.

"If they didn't have the vaccine, do you think the unknown wanted to simulate a measles outbreak?" Penelope asked on the other end of the call.

"It's possible; then he doesn't have access to the virus but to the medical records," Prentiss responded.

"An anti-anti-vaxxer?"

"Exactly. We could be talking about a paramedic or even an administrative worker with access to records but not to the laboratories," Derek spoke thoughtfully.

"How do you induce fever without making a child sick?" Tinker bell asked from the back seat.

"There were high levels of Cefuroxime, an antibiotic used for bronchitis or even gonorrhea. That explains the fever, but not the death," Spencer intervened.

"He needed a trigger," you murmured, trying to remember everything you've learned, but the information tangled in your mind. "There were also traces of the same measles vaccine in the children's blood sample, right? Sometimes it's contraindicated if the patient has any dermatological problems, fever, or seizures," you recalled.

"If the unsub caused the child's fever to simulate a measles attack and then applied the vaccine, it's likely that it caused the death," they heard J.J's voice "He didn't hydrated them, he didn't feed them. He just left them tobdie alone and in pain"

"It doesn't take much for such a young child to die from fever. Seizures after a vaccine are caused by fever, especially if it's not controlled. He made them boil until their bodies couldn't take it anymore," you muttered, annoyed, trying to control your urge to press the accelerator to the maximum.

"It has to be someone who can easily access medications and has some minimal experience in medicine. It doesn't take much knowledge. We're looking for someone who has an extreme opinion about anti-vaxxers. Someone who has expressed excessive anger on social media. Surely, he's proud of the murders and shares news about the topic online," Derek told Penelope over the phone.

"I'm narrowing down the search, but look; Do you know how many people cancel anti-vaxxers on social media daily? Many of them are healthcare workers."

"We're talking about a narcissistic vigilant," Rossi added. "He's between 40 and 50 years old, probably lost a child of that age relatively recently. Maybe he was very responsible with vaccinations and feels it's unfair that the children of people who consciously decide not to vaccinate them are still alive."

"That's terrible, but..." they heard Penelope typing furiously until she found the only name that blinked on the screen. "...we have Martin August. A Caucasian man, 45 years old. He works for a supply company. Coincidentally, he delivers medications to the three hospitals in the area where Bobby, Richard, and Tommy are treated."

"What about the family background?" Hotchner asked.

"You got it right. He lost his two-year-old son, Charlie, three years ago, and he was very strict. He never missed any medical appointments. I'd say the child practically lived in the hospital."

"But if he died three years ago... What triggered him?" J.J asked.

"Good question." She decided to check the civil records and found a divorce certificate. "Martin divorced his wife when his son was just one year old. The thing is, she remarried and recently had a baby."

"He must feel that she forgot about Charlie and is rebuilding her life," they heard Prentiss say.

You and Spencer looked at each other alarmed. "He's going after his ex-wife's son," you said with certainty, knowing that if the man killed Tommy, he wouldn't wait at all to go after his next victim, and you suspected that with her, he wouldn't hesitate to cause even more harm.

After an hour and a bit more, you and the team found Tommy. He was in a very dangerous condition; undoubtedly, Martin had taken it out on him, probably rehearsing everything he would do with his ex-wife's little baby. However, the doctors were positive about it, and you decided not to leave the hospital until you knew the child would be stable. J.J had stayed there, and you had promised to accompany her; you knew how tough child cases were for her. Both drove back to Washington, and you made sure Will was informed of the situation and would accompany her that night with his famoustea and a good conversation. From there, you continued alone to your apartment; Penelope had helped you find it, and it was a couple of blocks from hers. You started walking towards the reception of the building when you found Spencer sitting on one of the lobby's chairs.

You looked at him somewhat surprised; the tension of the case had dissipated all the previous events; it had been effective in making you forget that you had ever been jealous and that you had had that conversation where you practically admitted hownyou were feeling.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" you asked, leaning on one of your feet, tilting your head. "What are you doing here?"

He got up from his seat and approached you with a strange look; there was doubt on his face but determination in his gaze.

"Do you remember that strawberry punch you make?"

You raised your eyebrows. "Spencer Walter Reid wants to drink alcohol?"

"With you," he added with a half-smile. "I want to drink alcohol with you."

You stared at him; the circles under his eyes were more marked than usual. You knew he was tired; you couldn't just send him home and deny him a peace punch. You nodded your head and pointed to the elevator, greeting the building manager just before the doors closed.

Spencer stood still beside you; you could feel his warmth colliding with your body. It was crazy and sent confusing signals through your spine.

"When Officer Williams praised me, it made me feel good," he murmured. "Not everyone has the patience to hear everything I have to say all the time," he added, watching the numbers indicating the levels of the building move up on the screen.

"I listen to you always, J.J listens to you always, Prentiss does, so Penelope and Rossi. Derek and Hotchner sort of listen to you all the time," you reminded him.

He nodded, stretching his lips into a thin line, still not making eye contact with you.

"I know."

"Not like that, though," you added. "We don't flirt with you."

You saw his cheeks blush, and then you knew you had hit the mark.

"I think we all have an ego to feed, right?" he murmured. "You were right, but you're also wrong," he finally looked you in the eyes, this time not breaking eye contact for a second. "Yes, I smiled with the things she said, they made me happy. But you... I don't need you to do or say anything; I am happy because of you. I don't smile with you; I do it because of you."

Of course, hearing him say that sent a warm signal through your body; it was as if suddenly you were wrapped in a satin blanket, and your feet didn't hurt, and thatpast case didn't happen. You never went to Maryland and now you are floating. And despite how good it felt, you knew you shouldn't get used to it.

"Spencer, you don't have to..."

"No. I know I don't say it often because saying it out of nowhere and without context would sound strange, but it's the truth; I don't need words, or places, or anything to be happy when I'm with you. I could be vegetating by your side, and I would be the happiest man alive" he admitted this time, looking at you with such intensity, and his words being so real that they touched the most sensitive and hidden nerve in your depth.

Your eyes stung, but you knew you wouldn't cry. Instead, bravely, you stretched your hand towards Spencer, and he took yours with confidence.

"I don't need anything else either, Spence."

And like a stroke of magic, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened. The moment had started and ended in the same location, but just like the elevator had done, you knew that conversation had left you in a different place, yet you didn't feel strange. In fact, you couldn't wait to explore it.

Part 5 and 6

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #spencer x bestfriend! reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid bestfriend blurb #spencer reid x jealous! reader #aaron hotchner #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #penelope garcia #derek morgan #david rossi

[hey-kae]

Already So Perfect

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x female reader

Request: hi! if you take requests could u maybe write about best friend!charles turned into boyfriend!charles and before the next gp, pierre goes to your hometown to help u with a surprise for charles and after the surprise you make the relationship official?

Warnings: Language, Monaco GP 2022.

Sidenote: I rewrote this about 4 times before i ended up with this version, what explains how long it took for me to post it, but i ended really liking how it turned out so i hope you do too! Strongly recommend listening to Dandelions by Ruth B. while reading cause it came on while i was writing it and my heart went 💥

Monaco Grand Prix 2022:

After that one awful pitstop and the expletives that spilled out of Charles' mouth in pure anger and frustration as he got back on track, it all seemed unsalvageable in the monégasque's eyes. It was set in stone in his mind that this weekend would be nothing but a disappointing memory that he would have learn from only to store it away and ignore it for the rest of his life after that.

For now, he didn't really know how he'd end up dealing with the painfully fresh memory, but he knew one thing for sure: he didn't expect to look back on the weekend with a satisfied smile.

You had been watching the race from the pit lanes, switching between the Alpha Tauri garage and the Ferrari one so you would be able to listen to your two best friends' team radios. Your eyes furiously came back to the grid positions every few seconds as the race neared its end, anxiously watching for any changes in the positions.

You were in the Ferrari garage, red headphones on your ears so you could listen to Charles' radio when he was asked to box. That's when shit hit the fan and a rather good race turned into a disaster. Your body acted on its own, ripping the headphones off you ears, simply not bearing to hear Charles' angry, pained voice screaming curse words like he had nothing else to say. Because, let's be real, he probably didn't.

Your eyes closed as you realized how bad this was. It was almost painful, the silence that took over the room as Charles' name dropped down to P4. The thought of how much disappointment Charles was dealing with right now squeezed at your heart and made your throat dry.

You just let your legs carry you out of the Ferrari garage and you walked in silence towards the Alpha Tauri one, knowing that the atmosphere there wouldn't be much better but still desperately wanting to escape the heavy aura of the red-dominated room.

You stayed there until all the cars passed the checkered flag and Pierre appeared amongst his team members. He shook everyone's hands, a consoling attempt from both sides, then he finally reached you giving you a quick friendly hug that showed how much he appreciated your presence there.

You never knew what to say in these situations, so you just settled for a small "Hard luck." and a sympathetic smile. Pierre responded with a small nod and a half-hearted smile.

Seconds of silence dragged on as you and Pierre stood there.

"Vas à lui. Il a besoin de toi maintenant." Go to him. He needs you right now.

It was slightly selfish, but your heart wouldn't bear being around a disappointed Charles. You just knew you'd end up blurting out anything that would make him feel better, even if that meant spilling things you wanted to keep to yourself.

"He has Arthur and his mother with him. You're alone here, Pierre."

"No, y/n. He needs you by his side after today." He emphasized the 'you' in his statement. Even after the bad race he had, a glimmer of mischief sparkled in the French driver's eyes, twisting the meaning of his words in many confusing ways.

The questioning looks you gave Pierre made him give you a little push and a small, encouraging "Go!"

For some reason, Pierre's insistence made you hurl to the bright red garage, only to find it mostly empty except for some team members. Enough time had passed since the race. Charles had probably already passed by here and was probably even done with the media and press duties he had post-race.

Your shoulders slouched in a short-lived moment of surrender before you started sprinting to the motorhome, knowing that would be where you'd find Charles.

Thankfully, you were right. Charles was in his driver's room. He seemed to be picking up a few things and packing them in a duffel bag so he could head home.

"Charles..." You started but quickly found that your words were crushed under the weight of the situation.

He turned to look at you the second his name rolled off your lips. It might sound dramatic, but you could almost see his guard being let down, the unreadable look on his face quickly getting replaced by an honest, vulnerable one. He finally allowed his body to relax and he sat on the massage table behind him.

"I'm so sorry about today." You managed, taking a cautious step towards him.

Charles, when upset, usually kept to himself and bottled up all his feelings, so it was safe to say that you didn't expect his hand to wrap around your wrist nor for him to pull you in to stand between his parted legs.

"J'en ai marre de ça, y/n." I'm sick of this, y/n. He mumbled, pulling you close and hugging you around the stomach.

"Je sais." I know. You didn't have the right words to say so you just rubbed circles on his back with one hand and ran your fingers through his tangled hair with other, not caring that it was still slightly damp with sweat.

You hoped it helped him feel a little better, but you highly doubted that so you just let him stay wrapped around you for as long as he needed. You didn't mind staying that way until he decided he okay to pull away.

The staff, on the other hand, had other plans.

"Charles, i'm really sorry but they need to start deconstructing the motorhome." Someone spoke from outside the room. Charles pulled away, his expression scarily impatient, his eyes closed as he took a deep breath in attempt to calm himself down.

"C'mon." He disguised the urge to ask you to come home with him with the small word but you understood him and you didn't find one reason to why you shouldn't accompany him. If he needed you by his side, even if it was just as a friend, that is where you were gonna be. At least for today, you were willing to ignore your feelings for the guy that was currently guiding you out of the Ferrari motorhome towards the outdoors.

Once you were outside, you felt his hand wrap around yours. It shocked you enough that your gaze immediately shifted down to look at your hands. Charles, apparently just as surprised by his gesture, studied your face, trying so hard to read you expression and understand how you felt towards that. You didn't really know what reaction he wanted so you concealed all the feelings this gave you, keeping your expression neutral.

His lips pursed and he started making his way towards his black Ferrari. You followed him with a head swirling with a million thoughts.

The drive to his apartment was overruled by a comfortable but confused silence. Fans had stopped him on his way out of the parking space, waving at him but keeping a distance, clearly aware of the race results.

Once you reached your destination, Charles told you to make yourself at home before he disappeared into his bedroom.

"I'm gonna take a quick shower." He appeared in the doorframe, shirtless with a towel draped over his arm.

You nodded, looking away as you felt your cheeks blush. You saw him disappear again out of the corner of your eye.

Letting out a breath you were holding, you rid yourself of your light jacket and headed towards his kitchen to make him something to eat.

It was shocking how fast Charles' quick shower was. You didn't expect him to walk into the kitchen so soon, but there he was, hair still wet, watching you from one of the chairs by the kitchen table.

"You don't have to make food."

"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry about it."

He nodded and thanked you before the room fell back into silence.

You were reaching to grab a plate when you heard Charles' voice again.

"I don't know why i feel like this is the right time to say this but I can't see you as a friend anymore."

His words immobilized you momentarily but you quickly recovered and spun around to face him.

"I'm sorry, what?" You didn't know if you were confused or hurt. Whatever it was that you were feeling, it wasn't good.

Here you were, keeping him company in his apartment after a bad race and making him food, trying to make up for his bad day and he still had the audacity to tell you he didn't see you as a friend anymore.

"I just can't be friends with you anymore," you didn't wait for him to finish. You dropped everything you had in your hands onto the counter and quickly started making your way back to his living room so you could grab your phone and get going.

However, his damn fast reactions kicked in and his arm wrapped around your waist just as you were gonna pass him.

He stood up before he continued his previously interrupted sentence.

"... i like you too much to be okay with being your friend. Je veux être beaucoup plus que cela." I want to be way more than that.

At this point, he didn't need to hold you back from walking away. That thought was long gone and instead, you quickly turned to face him. Your mind didn't register it fast enough because it just sounded too good to be true.

Pierre's insistence that you go to Charles after the race instead of staying with him suddenly started making sense.

You stared at your best friend in disbelief, you mind still processing the fact that he just said the words you thought you'd never hear from him. It seemed like you brain was too busy memorizing this moment instead of busying itself with coming up with a response.

You just stood there admiring the guy you've liked for so long, since both of you were children begging your parents to sleep over at each others' houses, and the look on his face as he expressed feelings you could've only dreamt he felt.

"Now would be the time to say something." He grimaced awkwardly, his mind already running over the list of ways this weekend could tumble even lower down the scale of catastrophe. He was desperately trying to get insight on wether or not this was a good idea.

Without even realizing what you were doing nor thinking the action through, your arms reached up and wrapped around his neck, inhaling the comforting scent of his shampoo and basking in the the comfort of being so close to him. At that moment, you literally felt him relax and exhale in relief, his own arms wrapping around your waist in a delicate embrace while he hid his face in your neck.

The fact that you could feel his heart beat against your own body gave you goosebumps all over. However, it seemed like for now the only thing you cared about was how amazingly safe you felt in his toned arms. It felt like that's where you belonged in the first place. It felt like home.

After that, Charles decided that eating on the table would put too much distance between the two of you so you ended up on his couch, your legs draped over one of his and two plates of food in your laps as he ranted about his day before he made sure to ask you about yours.

As it neared midnight, you started getting anxious about leaving alone this late, especially since you were getting sleepy.

"Charles, i really need to leave." You started getting up, but he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer.

"Leaving? Why? Just stay here."

Previously, there were moments in your friendship with Charles where the limit lines blurred and you ended up cuddling in bed until both you fell asleep. You never thought it was weird since you had grown up around Charles and the both of you grew up thinking it was normal. Therefore, it didn't really make sense to him that you were planning to leave tonight after all that happened.

It barely took any convincing from his side before you were dressed in his sweats and cuddled up with him in his bed.

The night passed in a blur of confessions and sloppy kisses and before you knew it, sunlight came into the room uninvited, reminding you that even if you felt like the two of you were the only ones to exist in this world, reality still says otherwise.

You woke up to two text messages from pierre.

"I haven't heard from both u and Charles since yesterday so i guess last night went like i thought it would." The first text read, the other one being a string of winking emojis.

You didn't have time to respond since Charles, still mostly asleep, grabbed your phone out of your hand, dropped it onto the mattress and pulled you back into him as you giggled.

Silverstone Race week 2022:

A full month since monaco. A full month since you and Charles started dating.

Precisely, on the Wednesday before the british race, the 29th, a full month would've passed.

It was the Monday just before that. Charles was flying to you tomorrow, planning to spend the day here before the both of you head to Britain. Pierre, on the other hand flew in on Sunday just like you asked him to.

Throughout the past month, Charles had gone out of his way to spend as much time with you as was possible. The amount of dates he had managed to sneak into his schedule was absurd, especially since the dates involved one of you flying to the other. You wanted to do something nice for him. That's where Pierre, who was ecstatic when he found out the two of you were dating, came into play.

While watching a movie with Charles once, there was a scene where the two main characters went on a date on the beach right as sunset started. He had said that he's always wanted to try that so, naturally, you were planning to recreate that for him.

You saved up some money and rented out a section of a beachside restaurant, spilling some additional cash so they would give you full privacy and control over the space for a few hours. You insisted on the privacy part of the deal since your relationship with Charles was still a secret. No one other than Pierre and your families knew.

Along with your french best friend, you went shopping and got all the things you needed, from cooking ingredients down to small candles to decorate with.

Pierre stared complaining once he realized he was going to have to help you with all the cooking, but he still did it nonetheless, telling you that he expects any future Leclerc children to hold his name due to his big contribution in making the relationship happen.

"Dude, what the hell? We've been dating for a month! Easy on us, please." You had replied.

Tuesday noon, you climbed into your car and headed straight to the airport to pick up Charles. He met you in the parking lot and gave you the biggest kiss once he settled in your passenger seat.

As was planned, Pierre was nowhere to be found when Charles and you returned to your apartment. He was probably already finishing up the preparations of the things you had bought yesterday.

As sunset neared, you started bugging Charles that he should get up and get dressed because you wanted to show him a spot you discovered. After some bickering about that, he ended up putting on some white shorts and a loose beige button down. You couldn't help but smile as you realized he had unknowingly picked out the perfect outfit for what you had planned and that the color of his shirt was almost identical to the color of your sundress.

Halfway through the drive, you stopped on the side of the road to blindfold Charles with a bandana you brought with you. You also sent Pierre a quick message telling him he should disappear from the restaurant in about 5 minutes, then you resumed the journey.

"I don't like this, y/n. I'm getting nauseous." Charles had complained many times, even after you had parked your car and started helping him out of it.

"5 more seconds, i swear." You assured him as you guided him down the beach. Luckily, there was a pavement that gilded through the sand so he hadn't picked up on where you two were yet.

Once you reached the spot you and Pierre prepared, you turned around to make sure everything looked good before telling Charles to take off the blindfold.

It looked golden, in a way.

The sun was just about to start setting, its light harmonizing perfectly with the one coming from the littered candles and the lanterns paving the way to the dinner set up. Instead of setting up a table, you had used a big white tablecloth directly on the sand and placed many pillows and cushions on its edges. Right in the middle was the food Pierre had helped you prepare, distributed neatly on white plates. In a big bucket of ice on the side, there was a bottle of white wine ready to be served and just beside that, there was a bouquet of red tulips and white baby's breaths, the only pop of color that meets the eye.

You had chosen the tulips because they meant 'thank you' and you were thankful for Charles. The baby's breath, on the other hand, was a different story. The florist told you it symbolized everlasting love, and even though you have not said it before, but you loved Charles in a way that felt like it would most-literally define the meaning of the word "everlasting".

"You can open your eyes." You spoke after intertwining your fingers with his.

You watched Charles as he ripped the bandana off with his free hand, his expression completely changing as his eyes met the sight in front of him. His lips were parted and his eyes were glistening, his hold on your arm tightening.

"Oh mon dieu, y/n." Oh my god, y/n. He gasped.

"I don't know if you remember when you told me you wanted to go on a beach date, but i wanted to surprise you with one. Plus, tomorrow is the 29th, so it's been a month since Monaco, what means that we've-" he cut off your rambling with a passionate kiss, his lips feeling perfect against yours, an amazing combination of sweet and firm.

"Je n'comprend pas comment tu es si parfaite. Ça- Ça c'est magnifique, et toi... Mon dieu, tu es tout ce que j'ai toujours voulu." I don't understand how you're so perfect. This- this is amazing, and you... My god, you're all i've ever wanted. He said after breaking the kiss, pulling you as close to him as was possible, planting small kisses on your forehead between his words.

"Tu merite bien plus que ça, Charles." You deserve way more than this, Charles. You kissed his cheek and snuggled into his chest while he continued staring in disbelief.

Seeing him smiling like that was all you wanted out of life. Seeing his eyes glimmer with so much happiness made you want to spend forever making him happy. You were never superstitious nor religious but, standing right there with him made you want to beg every higher power and wish on every shooting star, passing airplane and dandelion that you'd get to spend the rest of your life with this man.

He looked over at you, his gaze making it hard to breathe while also setting your soul free and making your heart dance with utmost joy.

If the kind of love that comes once in a lifetime and sticks around until your very last breath actually existed, this was definitely it for you.

"I love you, Charles. I think i was already starting to in Monaco, but now i feel it so strongly and i just can't hold it in anymore." The words spilled out of your mouth once your body felt like it was overflowing with the love you felt for the man stood beside you.

To your relief, the words made Charles' smile grow.

"I love you too, mon ange." My angel. He kissed the top of your head. "Je t'aime tellement beaucoup plus que je ne le pensais possible." I love you way more than I thought was possible.

His words had such a strong effect on you. They made your heart want to escape its cage and leap towards his. You've just never felt happier.

After that, you both sat and ate.

Charles literally blushed when you gave him the flowers and explained their meanings to him. It nearly made your heart burst, seeing him so flustered over something you did.

You were sat between his legs, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a loving embrace when he propped his phone up on one of the cushions beside him without you noticing, immortalizing the moment perfectly in a photo. You had your head tilted back slightly, your eyes closed and one your hands wrapped around his arm while the other reached behind you to cup his face as he kissed your cheek, your surroundings illuminated softly with the glow of lanterns and small candles.

The moment he showed you the picture, you fell in love with it, making him smile.

"How about we use it to let the world know? I just want post it in my story and brag about having you in my arms." He suggested in a tone that made it clear that he was just testing the waters. He wasn't going to pressure you into anything but he just wanted you to know he was ready to share this with everyone.

You quickly turned to look at him. You found him waiting for a response with full seriousness.

"You actually want to do that?"

He nodded, "As long as you want it too. We don't have to do it yet but I'll probably end up using this picture no matter when." He chuckled, looking back down at his phone screen.

You admired his smiling face and his blushed cheeks and asked yourself why you were hiding the fact that you get to call him yours from the world anyway. Looking at him alone made you grin like a lovesick idiot, for God's sake.

"Post it." You smiled and he looked up at you with so much love it nearly made you squirm.

"Tu es certaine?" Are you sure?

You nodded and kissed him.

Less than a minute later, he put his phone away, signifying that your relationship was now as public as it can get. You heart beat faster as both excitement and nervousness coursed through you, but Charles touch on your skin was quick to dispose of any negative thoughts.

When you were back home, you logged into instagram and hundreds of notifications rolled in.

You ignored them and just clicked on Charles' story to see what he had posted. Sure enough, the picture from earlier appeared on your screen, the only addition being very few words Charles added on the bottom corner.

"I don't think it gets better than this." The small text box read and right below it was your username, signifying that Charles had mentioned you.

You heart swelled at the little sentence he had chosen to add and you found yourself replaying the story over and over again before finally sharing in onto your own profile, the grin never leaving your face.

After that, you sent Pierre a quick message, inviting him over for breakfast tomorrow, thanking him repeatedly for his help and letting him know that everything went well.

"I know."

"I just liked his story." He replied, shamelessly referencing the many internet memes about him liking posts on instagram. It was funny, you couldn't deny that.

You sat and thought about the upcoming race weekend while Charles' singing voice sounding from the shower filled the apartment, grounding you and assuring you that this was in fact your reality, even if it felt too good to be true.

This weekend, you'd finally get to walk around the paddock with Charles without going out of your way to look like platonic friends like you had done the previous race. This weekend, you'd finally get to walk around with his hand in yours and with the whole world knowing that he was your boyfriend. The thought alone made your stomach fill with butterflies,

It seems like Charles was right after all. It doesn't get much better than this, does it?

How can it get better when this is already so perfect?

#charles leclerc imagines #f1 imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc oneshots #f1 x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc blurb #f1 fic #f1 oneshots #f1 one shot #f1 x you #f1 imagine

[nonotnolan]

Gym Merchandise

Few experiences in life are as terrible as having to move to an entirely new town.  It was a hill that Wyatt was prepared to die on.  The move had allowed him to escape his overbearing parents, so regret wasn’t quite the right word, but... getting used to the new roads, having to meet new people, trying to figure out which stores could be trusted... it was exhausting in a way that was notably different from standing at a cash register for eight hours.

His coworkers were far too nice to help him make any sort of decisions.  “Oh, I use the dentist on 8th St, but I hear the office on 15th is also good.”  “No, I just take my car to the auto dealership for repairs, I’ve never had any reason to find a separate mechanic.”  “All of the doctors in town are pretty good, I would just pick one that’s close to you.”  If it wasn’t for Reddit, he probably would have never been able to find a good gym.

Wyatt still couldn’t believe how unanimous the advice had been.  His new city’s subreddit was a dumpster fire of angry yelp reviews and people complaining about their neighbors.  And yet, when he made a post asking people to recommend places for a new resident, everyone told him he needed to check out Friday’s Gym.  “Even if you’ve never made exercise a priority before, you should check this place out.”  To their credit, it did seem like a really nice gym-- there was an attached spa-like area with massage chairs and tanning beds, and free headphones for the regulars.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t see you there,” Wyatt said, as he accidentally bumped into a guy wearing a red tank top.  The man said nothing in response.  “Hey, are you using this bench?  I don’t really feel comfortable using those machines yet.”  The man made no reply.  Wyatt walked around the loose weights at his feet to stand in front of him, but the man in the red tank top did not even blink.  He continued to stare at a point off in the distance, with no concern for anything around him.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.  Wyatt couldn’t help but blush as he did so-- the man’s shoulder was impressively firm, and yet his skin was so soft and well maintained.  It was the exact sort of body he would love to have, but had never wanted to devote the time it would take to earn it.  The man shifted in place, like a large tree rustling in the breeze, but he remained unmoved.  The hairs on the back of his neck started to stand on end.  Was the man braindead, somehow?

“Sir, please don’t jostle the merchandise.”

The staff member graciously allowed Wyatt a few moments to collect his breath, having managed to scare him half to death.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you like that,” he said, with what Wyatt assumed was a cheerful smirk.  “We don’t usually tip our hand until after the tenth visit or so.  But Derrick here went into trance a bit earlier than we expected, and we really don’t like moving the merchandise once the reprogramming starts.”

Wyatt’s gaze shifted back and forth between the two muscular men.  “You keep referring to him as merchandise.  Do you normally treat your customers like they’re objects and not people?” he said, crossing his arms in irritation.

“I do when they’re wearing our special headphones,” he said, with a hearty chuckle.  Whatever reaction Wyatt had been expecting from the bare-chested staff member, it certainly wasn’t that.  “It’s not your tenth visit yet, but we might as well give you the full tour,” he said, dropping the bands down on the nearest weight bench.  “Follow me into the back, if you would-- we’ll walk and talk.  Here at Friday’s, we pride ourselves in being the gym for the everyday people.  I’m sure you heard that during the initial orientation.  What you did not hear is that anytime we get a hulking beast like Derrick here-- not just someone who has a jock’s physique, mind you, but someone who is truly a massive asshole-- we take it upon ourselves to... intervene.  My current body, for instance-- Frank used to be a racist ass destined to work whatever manual labor job hadn’t fired him yet.  With me in control, he’s the daytime manager of a successful gym, and we’re working on getting a second location opened.”

“Or how about Mathias over there?  No one misses the old, homophobic version.  But the new one, who came out of the closet and owns the jewelry store downtown?  Now that’s a man who’s contributing to society.  Looks great in cardigans, too”  Frank opened the Employees Only door and gestured Wyatt inside.

Wyatt glanced around the break room, which was half consumed by wires, tubing, and a pair of helmets which presumably assisted with the body swap process.  “So, what happens your old bodies?  I feel like the police would notice pretty quickly if a bunch of missing person all happened to have memberships to the same gym.”

Frank gave him another hearty chuckle.  “I suspect you’re right, yes.  That’s what the headphones are used for-- it makes them pliable for reprogramming.  The old Frank is currently inside of my body, living my life... but he has no memory of his past life, and he has no memory of this gym’s existence.  If you decide to take over someone else’s body, it would be the same for you.  Assuming you want to go through with it,” he added.  “For all we know, you’re perfectly happy with your current life.”

It was Wyatt’s turn to laugh.  “I’m not.  If I’m gonna be stuck in a minimum wage rut, at least I can be stuck in a rut while I have some sick abs.  So... you’re not turning me into Derrick, are you?”

“I am not,” Frank said, shaking his head.  “Derrick’s already been spoken for by someone else.  That said, we will happily put you on the waiting list.  It would be two to six weeks, depending on how susceptible your new body is to our reprogramming.  What do you think about Peter, here?”

One look at the broad-shouldered beauty, and he was already starting to daydream about life in the man’s body.  Wyatt couldn’t help but to match Frank’s sincere smile.  “I think he’s the exact sort of high quality merchandise I would like to own for myself.”

#male body swap #gay body swap #casual body swap #after the swap #nerd to jock #male body theft

[arafergirl-artdump]

(eng/jpn/rus) Starter pack when you discovered you're autistic.

(Little disclaimer: This was made totally based on my own experience. Also, i mainly write about things related to autistic experience, but it's not exclusive to it. It possibly can help ADHD/ADDers, high sensitive people and everyone who have any relation to some autistic traits)

Hi there! If you are reading this, i can assume you recently discovered you're autistic. Well, it can explains a lot of what happened in your life, but sure you're thinking "what's next? Will it change something in my life?". For this i need to explain what is masking.

From Wikipedia: "In psychology and sociology, masking is the process in which an individual camouflages their natural personality or behavior to conform to social pressures, abuse, or harassment". So, basically, it means you're hiding some traits of you and your personality by (in neurodivergent case) mirroring others. It can start in very young age. I can assume you're older than 8, so you can consider as late-diagnosed, so you probably masked a lot. Later (or even now) you can notice that your behaviour changes: you notice how loud, bright, smelly, ect. things can be, you do more repetative movements (it's called stimming, it can be not only physical. Listening a lot of music can consider stimming too, for example), you maybe start to talking about things you like a lot, like, A LOT. It means you are unmasking, maybe some thing are not so noticable for you, that's fine, every autistic experience is individual. I mean, if you already notice those things, i can advise you some things that helped and still helping me.

Let's start with clothes. Sure you know this feeling when you're in some itchy clothes and it's so itchy you want it to pull off immediately. Well, now you know the reason why you felt it! But where you can buy clothes that will NOT give you this feeling? The only brand that never gave me this sensory hell is UNIQLO, plus their clothes are genderless. But if you can't buy their clothes or prefer other brands for reason, just make sure this piece is have a huge percent of cotton, lien, bamboo or any othere sensory safe fabrics.

So, what about other senses? Well, there's a poll in here that shows that most neurodivergent people are mostly sensitive to noises (of course it's not an offical research, it's just a Tumblr poll). You propably should get some noise-cancelling headphones. Also you can get construction headphones! I actually have ones, it's good for going outside, but isn't if you want to lay down because of how big they are. Well, i recommend get both and use them at the same time. Also you may have problems with lights, so get yourself a good glasses if your eyes will be tired. There's nothing i can recommend for smell and taste, well, you probably already have safe food even if you don't recognise it yet, so find foods that are safe for you.

And not so first need things! They can help you in the future, but some isn't nesecary if you don't have needs i have. So, in short:

weighted blanket - good for sleep or when you're feeling anxious. If you can, buy it, but you can make it by yourself.

fidget toys - good for stimming, but some of them are can be loud, so my ultimate recommendation is Tangle. But only you know what's good for you!

AAC app - good if you don't like use your voice much. Currently i use "Card talk" and it's good for communicating, but there's bugs with created cards' audios, it can become too fast or too slow. You can fix it by closing and opening the app again, but it can be a bit annoying.

I hope it can help you with living your autistic life comfortably! Reminder: it's based on my experience, so i'm sure there's somenthing that bother you less and bothers me a lot. Well, i said everything i wanted to, so have a great day!

(Damn, this post is long)

(PS: "Card Talk" is so buggy i need to make new audio for created cards. If you aren't multilingual as me, better find other apps)

(PPS: I just found one that is good for multilinguals, it's "Cboard"! So if you're talking in more than one language, this app is pretty good!)

#autism #self help #advice #aac device #noise canceling headphones #fidget toys #article #actually autistic #neurodivergent #30 notes

[russellsppttemplates]

You really don't see it do you? (Lewis Hamilton)

Note: english is not my first language, I have never written something that was requested by somebody else so I suddenly feel like I can't write, also first time doing anything remotely angsty (maybe it's not even that and I have executed it poorly) so pls bear with

As always, any specific knowledge here is what I know and have researched a bit, apologies if it is incorrect

Feedback is appreciated 🤍 and although I'm not taking requests per se, if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: curse words, mentions of allergic reaction and needles

In the Mercedes hospitality, the team and guests were having lunch, trays of food displayed beautifully around a big table as everyone grabbed what they wanted in order to stay fueled for the Qualy afternoon ahead, "Y/N, you have to try these! They're some sort of pastry, you have to try it, they're to die for", Angela said, a tong in hand as you placed your plate forward so she could place the pastry on it. "So Lewis, how are we feeling for today?", you asked, already sat at the table, everyone digging into the food on their plates, "I feel confident we can get in the top 5, the car seemed good yesterday", he said, "that's good, I can't wait to see you! It's been awhile since my last GP", you smiles slightly, things around you turning slightly wobbly, your chest heaving as it got harder and harder to breathe in and out. Lewis noticed it right away, "You okay, Y/N?", earning a shake from your head once you couldn't get your words out, "Angela, grab my bag over there", he said pointing to the back pack on the sofa, "It's okay, I've got your meds here", he said comforting you. As Angela got him his wallet, he pulled out the adrenaline pen you took when this was happening, "There we go, sorry darling", he said, lifting your midi skirt a little bit upwards so he could pin the needle on your skin and inject the liquid in your body. A few minutes passed as you laid against Lewis' chest, eyes closed as you got back to your normal state, breathing back to normal and colour back to your face, "I'm fine, I'm fine, thanks Lew", you said, now appreciating his nagging when he insisted that he was present in the demonstration of how to use your new pen and that he should have one just in case. "Did that have soybeans in it? Because she's allergic to that", Lewis asked, "It's a vegetable pastry, so probably, we'll have to check with the caterer", someone said, "I'm sorry, I didn't know we had people with food allergies today, we're usually careful about it", one of the managers apologised to you. "It's fine, don't worry. I'm good already", you said accepting a glass of a sugary drink as you tried to reassure everyone in the room whose eyes suddenly were on you. After everyone resumed to their meals, you felt okay sitting on your own chair, "You weren't kidding when you said these were to die for", you joked looking at Angela, trying to rid her face of the frown she had, "I'm okay, Angela, there's no way you'd know. Now, please, smile again, will you?", you said holding out your hand so she could grab it, "I'm never recommending food again", she said, letting out a nervous chuckle, "I think Y/N has broken Angela, I've never seen her so quiet", you heard Toto jokingly say. "I'm so sorry Y/N, I really am", she apologised profusely, "I'm fine, honestly! This happens every now and again, it's okay", you said as they resumed their meal. So your best friend carried an epi pen for you, no big deal right? Your heart didn't feel the same, as you felt his worried look on you, checking how you were and making you fall in love with him a little bit more.

"You're sure you're feeling okay? You can go to my room and rest", Lewis said as he fastened his race suit, "I'm fine Lew, I'll sit here if it makes you feel better", you reassured, "yeah, good idea, you sit here", he said as he grabbed a chair for you so you could still watch the screens and have your headphones in. Things were going well for Lewis, qualifying in 4th place and in general feeling hopeful, "Great guys, that was great! I think tomorrow we have a food shot at podium", Lewis heavy breathing was heard through the radio, "thanks guys, thanks team. Also, can anyone tell me how Y/N is?", he asked. One of the engineers flipped you channel in so he could hear you, "I'm fine, already feeling better. I just ate some biscuits too", you told him as everyone smiled at his concern for you, knowing fully well where it all came from.

You were sitting in Lewis' living room, a healthy roast split between the two plates on the coffee table, Roscoe snoozing by your feet and a documentary playing on TV. This was your usual Thursday plan when you both could make it, being a tradition that started at least 4 years ago. "Did I tell you we're doing this showcase for Mercedes on the weekend? It's going to be absolutely insane, they have all these cars to show and interviews too!", Lewis said excitedly, sitting next to you on the sofa and grabbing his plate. "Does it take up the whole weekend?", you asked, wondering wether he had forgotten your new office's launch. You had recently taken a huge step career wise, managing to become and independent worker and essentially your own boss, and the new place you were opening on Friday was having a little celebration with a few friends, family and clients as well as some local press. "I think so, I fly early Friday morning and get back on Sunday night, since we have no race it's easier", Lewis answered.

"So you're not coming to the office launch?", you asked, disappointment clear in your voice as you looked at the TV. You had planned it accordingly to his schedule too so he could attend as well, wanting to have someone you felt so dearly for in this important milestone.

"Ah, shoot. I forgot about it", he said, "I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you, I promise", and you don't know wether it was the insane amount of pressure you were in to succeed on your own or the whole planning, but you burst "do you know how much that meant to me? That you said you were able to come and support me? And you're not gonna be there? I know things get crazy, but you could have told me...". You and Lewis had always been honest with eachother, never letting anything brood over too much and tackling any issues together, talking about them as they came up, and not only did it hurt you because he didn't tell you, but also because he was not going to be there... "Y/N, I'm sorry, I really am. Things at Mercedes are going well now, we can't disappoint sponsors and besides I can pop back in on Monday, I'm sure you'll have a full house on Friday anyway!", he reasoned despite your side, "I go to every race I can, even the ones on the other part of the world and you can't make this arrangement? Don't even bother coming then". And as soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted every single one of them, you were being unfair to him, and mostly, mean without any reason other than wanting him with you. He had his things to do, job demands that couldn't wait and you had always respected them, "Is that how you feel? I have been here day in day out since you started this, every study session, every work proposal, during the signings and this is it? Just because I'm missing one thing? It's not like it's that important", Lewis said, touching a particular subject you both knew too well not to touch. And he knew he had messed up too, knowing how much it meant to you and how other people had failed to support you the way you deserved. "I think this is going too far so I'm going to head home, thanks for dinner", you said getting up and petting Roscoe, heading for the door, a pang on your chest from not hearing a certain voice call your name.

6 am. Lewis and Angela were up and running already, trying to sweat his frustration off, "What's going on wirh you today? Even this is early for us", Angela said trying to catch her breath as the stopped by a park bench, "something you want to share?". Lewis sighed, taking his earbud out, "yesterday I was with Y/N, and I told her about the weekend and she reminded me of her opening and, I don't even know how, but I was so angry with myself when she said that she wanted me there that I just burst out and said awful awful things to her", he said. Angela's jaw could have dropped, she had always known Lewis to be calm and collected, especially when it came to you, "when are you going to tell her? How you truly feel? Have you wondered that maybe you reacted like that because of your feelings for her?", she reasoned. It was no secret to Angela that he had profound feelings for you, and until now he seemed to keep them at bay, "I think it's time you talk to her about it, and apologise to her. She's such a sweet woman and you and I both know she doesn't deserve that", prompting Lewis to think long and hard about how he would take things from then on.

Even though you told Lewis to not bother coming to your opening, you were missing him. Your nerves were needing a pep talk from Lewis saying everything was going to go alright, that there was probably food to feed a whole army and that it all looked lovely, but he wasn't here, making you confirm the idea that your reaction had been a little bit too much. He had never failed you, standing in the crowd when you got your qualifications, holding you when you got negative answers job applications and cheering you on no matter what you did. As you let out a long sigh, you heard your name being called, "Y/N, they're ready for you, it's go time!", your secretary called. Putting on your best face, you remembered your efforts and a rush of pride flooded in, you really had done this, had finally reached where you envisioned yourself all those years ago and you'd be damned if you didn't make 17 year old Y/N proud and enjoy this moment. As you spoke, you ran your eyes through the room, noticing some familiar faces of friends and family, until it landed on a special one. Lewis was here. He came all the way to support you. Smiling as he looked back at you and flashed you one of his smiles. You looked beautiful, the suit he helped you pick looking amazing on your body, your presence in the room and the way you spoke making people hang on to every word, much like he was right now. "I'm here to support my friend in this amazing achievement of hers so if you have any questions about it I'll happily answer but I'm not answering race or car questions today", Lewis said politely as an interviewer questioned him about the latest advances in his car, excusing himself and making his way to grab a bottle of water and look for you after you had finished talking.

"So, you still came", you started, "I didn't thi- thank you for coming, I appreciate it", hugging him, "I missed you so much, I'm sorry I did what I did, it was uncalled for". When Lewis hugged you back, your muscles relaxed, knowing it was all good, "Don't you worry about it angel, I'm sorry too. We both said things we didn't mean", he reasoned, earning a nod from your head that rested on his chest, "we'll talk later about it okay?", you both agreed on.

Everyone had already left, it was just you and Lewis sat in one of the sofas, "Can we talk about it now? I really did not enjoy going to bed knowing we were not talking", you forwarded, "I'm sorry for going about it the way I did, you really didn't deserve this, but why did you say that? I can't lie, it really hurt me. I accept your apologies, you were stressed but was it all from that?", you said looking up. "You really don't see it, do you?", Lewis started, "How I look at you like you hung the stars and the moon just for me, how I get furious everytime some guy comes to you and looks at you like a piece of meat because you're so much more than what's available to the eye, how I always lend you a jacket when you rub your wrists because that's the first thing you do when you start getting cold, how in every room you are in that is where my attention goes, doesn't matter who else is in there", he finished, making you lift your eyes slightly, hoping he was saying what you have been wanting him to say. "You're so kind, selfless, smart and overall amazing, and so beautiful, so gorgeous I can't believe I get to spend my days next to you, damn woman, it's just so hard not to fall in love with you", Lewis sighed, then lifting his head so he could lock your gaze in his. "You fell in love with me?", you braved once your thoughts connected to your voice, earning a chuckle from the driver, "yeah, a long time ago, an I was so mad at myself that I had failed you like some before me, and how I had failed to support you, goodness, I never want to see that disappointment in your face again, let alone caused by me". And your heart jumped truly, no matter how crazy the day had been, all of those years wanting a little bit more from him, refraining from doing so because you didn't want to ruin your friendship.

"I fell for you too. I think I have loved you since I met you almost", you let out, "and I never believed you would reciprocate my feelings. I have watched your from afar getting everyone's attention, talking about failed romances and knowing that I could give you so much more only if you let me".

Grabbing your face with his hands, he nudged your nose in his before you took the chance to press a kiss to his lips, the feeling so much better than any of the times you imagined kissing him, "how about we save this for one of our places, hm? We can catch up on lost time before I go tomorrow, or maybe you can come with me", Lewis said, "was it not cancelled? I thought it was cancelled since you were here", you looked up at him, "I'm only absolutely needed there tomorrow morning apparently, and I needed to make things right with you... so what do you say to a nice first date on the clouds at 6 am?", he cringed slightly. Pressing a final kiss to your lips as the both of you looked at eacother, content with how everything turned out in the end you answered him, "I'll go anywhere at anytime as long as I'm with you".

#lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton fic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

[soldez]

would u recommend working w kids? they are so so sillay. also leo being second oldest is very real to me and i love that your vibes for her are summer camp counselor

HI!! that's a complicated question because it really depends on who you are and what your needs are. kids are adorable and hilarious and i find their company extremely fulfilling, but they're also LOUD and EXHAUSTING, and you need to have a certain tolerance for screaming, grabbing, bluntness, and (if you work with toddlers like me) the occasional poopy situation. if you have sensory issues like me, I'd strongly recommend establishing a set time and place to recharge every day, (or even bringing headphones if you're able to) and setting clear boundaries, like "my body needs space right now," "i don't like being touched there, thank you," etc. (which also teaches them consent/setting their own boundaries as a bonus). if you've never really worked with kids before, you might look for opportunities to substitute, or even volunteer at libraries and whatnot to get a sense of how it feels for you. i feel like everyone remembers a teacher from their childhood who just hated their job and made it everyone's problem, so don't be that person. i guess what I'm trying to say is that it's important to put your wellbeing first, or you'll be miserable, and that will rub off on the kids.

personally, i love how kids are naturally curious and blunt. they will just say whatever. and it IS extremely exciting and fulfilling to watch them learn and grow in real time, because they absorb information SO FAST. it's important to be observant and patient and non-judgmental and kind, because they WILL emulate your behavior. every single day I'm delighted and surprised by one of them saying something sweet out of nowhere, supporting or comforting a friend, resolving a conflict on their own, pronouncing a word like CRUSTACEAN that's way beyond their usual reading level, or randomly asking to hold my hand or sit on my lap when they've never done that before....

HOWEVER. do not tell my employers i said this, but I'd eventually like to work with slightly older kids, like 6-8 year olds, because i feel like that's the age range where they've kind of had a chance to develop personalities and hobbies and interests (beyond favorite colors and animals and whathaveyou), and they're starting to learn how to make jokes and insult people but they just go about it in the funniest way possible. and their imaginary games have extended plotlines, and theyll sometimes just decide to write an entire comic book or movie script in an afternoon. and you can actually hold a conversation with them, wheras toddlers will often just lose interest and walk away if they don't immediately grasp something. you also have to be very direct with toddlers, which is something I'm still getting used to just because i really dislike talking down to people of any age or size. like do NOT get me wrong, i LOVE my 3-5 year olds, but i do miss babysitting 8 year olds from time to time. and age is something to consider, again, especially if you're squeamish about bathroom stuff. *shudders and stares off into the distance*

anyways that was probably a way longer answer than you wanted and just a bunch of nonsense words. tl;dr the answer is Yeah. If you want. ❤️

#also i know ive been saying this for weeks but i am drawing another child whisperer leo comic Very slowly #I'm just working every day this week and don't have the energy to draw afterward for the reasons stated above

[revivemyreverie]

Yooo if ask is still open I would like to rq 💘 for Alastair

Ah, you’re lucky! I stopped art rqs but let writing asks stay open until today! And as always, please tell me if I got the character writing wrong!

Alastair

“Evenin’! You Alastair?”

Startled by both the loud voice and its accompanying country accent, Alistair looked up to see a radiant face adorned in a cowboy hat and matching scarf, the teen’s left cheek covered by a star-shaped bandaid. 

“Y-yes.” He replied, wishing he hadn’t agreed to the idea of a blind-date by Cater and instead spending his night ensuring his brother’s safety. Especially now that a lightbulb dressed as a cowboy ended up being his match.

“Cool! Name’s Winston, sorry about my attire by the way, I would have changed if I didn’t have outfit-editing duty today.” the cowboy introduced himself before sitting down at the table.”Although, you probably knew that already. Everyone I meet seems to have visited Toytoriya on my practice days!” He grinned.

Alastair glared, both confused and somewhat peeved. “I didn’t actually, and I’ve never been to Toytoriya’s realm either.” He snarked, only remembering the glittering charms and plushies covering the dorm's entrance in the Hall of Mirrors. Winston, oblivious to the sarcasm oozing out of his date, looked at him with a stupefied face.

“Really?!” Toytoriya’s star yelled, before remembering where he was and lowering his voice. “You’ve never been? Oh, I’ve got to invite you over! We got plays, a playroom, fireworks,” He paused, “although I recommend wearin’ headphones if loud noises freak you out. Oh! And sometimes we get to borrow animals from clubs for performances! Man, it reminds me of my farm back home, we got pigs, horses, chickens, cows and a duo of cute rabbits!’

Alastair’s head perked up at the name of the last animal. “Oh jeez,” Winston stopped. “Sorry about that, I’m ramblin’ all over the place and not giving you any space.”

“You have rabbits?” Alastair asked, ignoring Winston’s words. “What kind?”

“Uh, well, they’re my twin’s, really.” Winston shyly laughed. “But, I think one’s a checkered rabbit and the other’s some kind of lop bunny. What about you, ya got any rabbits?”

“O-oh,” the Heartslabyul student stuttered, “I do, just one, though.”

“Well, ya can’t just leave me hangin’, tell me more!” The cowboy smiled as he leaned on the table, interested in his mystery date’s affection for animals. 

Feeling his shoulders relax at his date’s apparent fascination, Alastair allowed himself to continue on. Soon enough, the two were having a full conversation, chatting about their day-to-day lives as their dinner arrived.

#Crashes my head into the ceiling #HEAR ME OUT alastair whos lost his childhood vs winston whos dream it is to recreate that feeling DO U HEAR ME()&W*(&^^ #ok i sleep now #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #ask game! #winston herdsmen

[pauputoot]

re your tags on this post: "i post for the girls who used to read obsessively but can no longer pick up a book and also are no longer girls" - yes i would love some advice

How I started reading again, a guide by someone who read voraciously as a teen, stopped reading in college, but was able to pick it up again at age 27

1)Read the things you used to read when you liked to read. This one comes from TikTok, and is probably the best piece of advice here. You don’t have to read books for adults, whatever that even means. If you devoured a John Green YA novel back in the day, either reread the one you liked, or read one of his newer books you haven’t read yet. I fuckin DESTROYED the Hunger Games back in high school, so the Hunger Games is what I read to get me back into it.

2)Read the things you like to read as an adult. A corollary to the above, but like, I realized I like romance books. Teen me would have HATED that I like romance books. Suck it up, past me, we’re in the melodrama zone. This also works the other way. Maybe you loved h*rry p*tter as a kid but the terf-who-must-not-be-named has ruined it for you now, so skip those. Tip: Graphic novels, comics, and fan finction all count as reading!

3)Momentum is important. This manifests in a few ways.

3a)If you’re not feeling a book, HIT DA BRICKS. You don’t have to finish every book (or even most books!) you read. Even if you think you Should like it. Even if you’re like “well maybe this will get better,” but the thought of picking it up to look at it again feels like a chore. It’s not worth it. Remember how I reread Hunger Games? When I got to Mockingjay, it felt like a slog, so I put it down. Not worth it. Even though I had read it before and knew I liked it, I wasn’t feeling it! So I hit da bricks!

3b)Have a book already lined up to read and in your possession after the one that you are on. That doesn’t mean you have to keep the same order - so like, if you find a new book you’re excited about, but you already had one on deck, don’t be afraid to put the exciting one on deck instead. For me, this means grabbing a bunch of books by an author I know I like, or a series. (*But don’t buy a series or author until you know you like them! Because if you buy/borrow a ton of books, and you read the first one and realize you don’t like it, you’ll have a pile of Guilt Books staring at you and that isn’t good for anyone). Having a book on deck also helps keep momentum if you have to Hit da Bricks.

4)Sensory Considerations - hello fellow neurodivergent friends, this one is for you, especially. (Though it truly does apply to everyone!)

4a)Read where you’re comfy! I recommend this reading light because it charges easily, has a bendy neck, and clips on wherever you need it, so wherever your comfy spot is can now be your reading spot.

4b)Read what feels good, like, to your senses. For example, I know I prefer paperbacks because hardbacks are hard to hold (tactile). I also know I prefer owning a new book to borrowing from the library because library book smell bothers my nose.

4c)Hear what you want while you read. If you like silence, maybe this means investing in some active-noise-cancelling headphones if that’s something you can afford (this is a reasonably-priced pair that I own that works beautifully, maybe check for sales). If you like music, put that on. There are a lot of places to find chill wordless reading mixes online. But, if you have the particular brand of brain that I have, you’ll want something more upbeat that still does not have words. I suggest video game soundtracks! Darren Korb of Supergiant (Hades, Bastion) is a go-to for me, or Krelez on YouTube has great chiptune mixes.

Congrats! You’ve made it to the Book Rec Zone.

I’m not going to overwhelm you with a big list here. Rather, this is a choose-your-rpg-class kind of situation.

Romance

First Book: Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston. Twenty-something son of US President and the youngest prince of the UK hate each other… until they don’t.

On Deck - Any other Casey McQuiston book.

Sci-Fi

First Book: The Long Way to a Small, Angry Planet, by Becky Chambers. Space opera with a lot of focus on the social differences among alien cultures, and how that plays out on a multi-species crew.

On Deck: A Closed and Common Orbit by Becky Chambers (Next book in series. Have not actually read this yet bc I’m still waiting on my dang delivery from bookshop.org to come in)

Magical Stuff

First Book: The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune. Also have not read this one yet, but it was a rec from a friend as an easy, devourable read, and I trust her. Gay love story between adults that take care of magical children, I think.

On Deck: Next book in series

Non-Fiction

First Book: Team Rodent: How Disney Devours the World by Carl Hiaasen (yeah, the guy who wrote Hoot, which you probably read in middle school). This is super short (90 pages!) and was written in 1997, but is a really interesting dive into how weird and manipulatively shitty Disney can be. Good if you like Defunctland.

On Deck: Fight Like Hell: The Untold History of American Labor by Kim Kelly. Exactly what it says on the tin. Roommate is reading this and is a fan.

#gifted kid burnout #reading #book recs #hunger games #casey mcquiston #i put links in this so it probably wont show up in tags but oh well #also i hope this formatting is ok #was having some trouble with the post editor #asks #nebuvoid #qwopping thru life

[lawain-dimensional-heroes]

"Miku! Happy Birthday! How was it? Did you do anything great? Sorry, I got a little bit busy with work but... I did manage to get you something, from one idol to another, not to mention I'm guessing you're getting alot of cake. But still, let's see..."

"First of all, four travel vouchers. You can invite friends and use it for a discount to wherever you like. I recommend say, maybe someplace like a tropical resort, or someplace in the West? Now the other thing I want to give you, is..."

And he's putting a bag in front of her. Something which he believes would fit her color scheme, really.

"Ta dah! A Travel Bag! It's a nice bag for sure, but... the thing about this bag is that there's actually a secret compartment at the back, so you can store your clothes inside."

"Say you think you're being followed, but you don't want to start any trouble in public. You get in the bathroom, quickly change out into different clothing, preferably with a cap, then walk out. Still, I hope you like it, and... well, happy birthday!"

"Ah, Eri~ Thank you!! It was a birthday I could not forget-- really! I couldn't have asked for a better day after what this year had to offer. I'm probably going to share the cakes with a lot of people if there is a lot of cake. Can't become fatsune Chonku just yet or at all! Or was its Hatsune Thiccku? Ah, who cares~ Sharing cake with everyone is something I loved to do anyway. I know I have cake I'm going to share~"

Having an idol congratulating her birthday always was something that brightens her mood-- not that she wasn't in a good mood to begin with, even going so far as to joke around.

"Hearing a fellow idol remembering my birthday means a lot to me-- really! I hope you're doing well with your work and I hope you're taking your breaks when you feel like you need to. Better not push yourself and take good care of yourself, amirite?"

As for the gifts, what is there to say?

"While I will pay one ticket for myself, that will allow me to bring my boyfriend and his sister along with the twins too! They had helped me bring a lot of my presents back to my own bedroom studio."

In a way that was a gift back to them for helping her out. She knew it would cost a lot and that it was heavy.

"Oh that bag seems very classy and a lot of stuff can get in! My Laptop, small peripherals and my headphones to help make music with-- and the hidden compartment, wow, you really did think of everything for a fellow idol!"

Miku couldn't help but give Eri a big ol' hug, prolly a tighter hug than she was used to giving, but a hug nontheless.

"Oh-- right, you asked me if it was my last concert. Actually, that's kinda a lie? I've decided that I'm going independent actually! Of course I'll perform with my fellow colleagues, but this will allow me to get more freedom to do what I want, like music production! I always wanted to make my own music, even if it's part of my idol career, so the bag gift was definitely a surprisingly useful one so thank you very much Eri!"

#ask answered #Vocaloid-02 | Hatsune Miku #alchemistdetective

[chuulord]

My Experience in Loona's Mexico City's Show!

First of all I gotta say, I'm still crying over everything that happened yesterday. Both in a happy and a sad way. I'll be talking about all the good and the bad in a chronological way.

Just as I arrived I felt Orbit's incredible atmosphere and energy, we were all just filled with love for them and you could feel it a block away. There were posters of Chuu around with "Have you dreamt of this woman?" and the overall love was felt. Even as we were told that Hyeju and Yerim wouldn't be able to join the show there was a purple and grey sea of lightsticks and the cheers the entire show never ceased for any of them. We where all respectful when they talked and cheered as loud as we could when it was time to cheer.

So we start the show with nine of them. Now, I... How can I even put this into words? They are a thousand times more gorgeous in person, I was bawling my eyes out the instant they stepped foot on the stage. It's just, seeing my personal supports there, in person was overwhelming. And for that one concert, and especially with their physical and mental condition in mind, it felt like I could return that to them, even for a bit.

You could tell they were tired, I even commented that Yeojin didn't really look well and probably wouldn't be there the entire show. And even if I was unfortunately right, I would rather see her take a break and I was still incredibly thankful she endured as long as she did just to see us.

Nonetheless, they were all lifted by the energy at the venue. Before the heavier choreography songs block Yeojin was seen happy and smiling and jumping around. There were times Haseul couldn't contain herself and stood up to dance a bit with the girls because you could see the excitement in her face. Yves usually ran back between songs, but you could see she didn't want to, Vivi, Kim Lip and Gowon also exited the stage a few times. Heejin, Hyunjin, Jinsoul looked the more energetic during the entire show, but you could tell they wished to feel better.

I want to give an special shout out to both Jinsoul and Haseul, because you could tell they were trying their entire best to, as they said it themselves, 'Fill the empty positions of the missing members'. Wouldn't be surprised if the show drained them the most.

And I'm not complaining with or about the girls at all. It feels like I'm somehow married to them because I know I'm with them in sickness and in health, the good and the bad. I love them so much and I, and the entire venue, really enjoyed our time in there with them. We really did. I think both sides truly want to see each other again, but they taking care of their health right now would be the best present they could give us.

When Playlist started playing and we raised our proyect banners, not only the girls were crying, we were too. It was our promise. That no matter what we would stay with them. They said they would be back, we promised we would never leave, and at least on my part I don't think that's happening ever ever.

I'm pretty sure Gowon and I made eye contact once, Hyunjin has now ascended to my bias list and honestly I fell a thousand times more in love with Heejin. And like I didn't even know that was possible.

I just don't think that a lot of you know, but Loona saved my life. I don't like to base my happiness on others, but when I was on one of my lowest points in life, somehow, I was recommended one of their music videos. "Do not accept the fate of the moon," it said, "Burn Yourself" it said. So I did. And to everyone that eventually left my life because of it I said "So What."

I walked the trails of life that I feared with their songs on my headphones, and always stepped forward to their rhythm. And while everyone was vibing and shouting around me, I was sobbing my soul out. There was around 8,000 orbits right there, without them... Only the world would know there would be 7,999.

They girls kept asking themselves if they really deserved all that love. They saved my life, I'll give them as much love as I am able to give out for the rest of it.

And of course, I'm just glad Heejin got to eat her esquites. If she didn't I was going to personally take her for one, no matter the cost.

To end in a sweeter note... I only recorded once. The ending. And that's a moment I'll forever cherish in my heart.

#AshRambles #Sorry if this gets a bit sentimental towards the end. #I just can't really get over it

[skyshardmusic]

Endless Labyrinth and ambiance from The Borderline.

So, basically this blog is my thread from Twitter but in all in one!

The idea is to talk about some of my music once in a while, tell interesting details and stuff. So here we go.

I re-discovered this ambiance piece recently, when I was re-listening some of my stuff with new headphones.

This headphones are way more professional than what I used, and its a huge jump forward, I'm still getting used. The main feature is that I can now hear the bass placement correctly, since my previous headphones (Sennheiser HD 251) lacked bass.

Anyway, I was expecting most stuff to be bad, but to my surprise the quality amazed me. I think my monitors helped a lot during the mixing.

The point is that I could hear stuff that I tried to do but couldn't say if I nailed it or not yet, with my old headphones. Very spatial audio, anxious automation of the sub-frequencies (really, makes ya feel anxious), good placement for different FX and stuff which was happening on the "scene" and all of that pretty clean too.

My goal with the ambiance pieces from The Borderline was to give the feeling of an horror game. For example, if you play any Silent Hill game without sound, it doesn't fill scary at all. The secret is in the sound. Messing up with your brain to induce a feeling of discomfort, anxiety, fear. Make you feel like you're in a bad place ya know?

And I think I got kinda close to that. Y'all can tell me better if you got uncomfortable while listening. If you did, then great! It means I kinda nailed it!

Of course The Borderline is not all about making you uncomfortable. The horror ambiance is mixed with melodic and chill songs before and after, to advance the story and give a sense of calm before or after the scary parts.

But in overall I think so far those might be my best works on ambiance. Stuff like "The Other Side" too, I was expecting it to be bad on this studio headphones, but I found out its actually pretty well nailed.

I probably could do better now with automated binaural movement, but I think not everyone will hear it since we're going into deep audio territory.

One day I would love to mix a horror ambiance piece on a Dolby system. That would be so nice to do ~

But ye, that's what I wanted to comment today on my stuff. If you haven't heard it, The Borderline is free/pay-what-you want on my Bandcamp page.

With that said, this Friday is Bandcamp Friday, if you want to support me with any amount and getting The Borderline in your collection. I strongly recommend getting it on FLAC/WAV, however I can proudly say that the MP3 320kbps sounds pretty good too.

So ye, that's all for today, and I'll be back another day with another thread about another song.

Be good to each other. Behave. Don't drink too much cider. Peace.

#music #ambiance #horror #audio design #electronic music

[booksandwitchery]

Thoughts on DIY Magic

I’ve finished DIY Magic by Anthony Alvarado. Loved it. I can’t wait to try out some of the tips that I learned. I would recommend this book to just about anybody because it doesn’t adhere to any specific subjective beliefs--for the most part, this book offers psychological tricks to help you in life (which, to be honest, is basically how I currently define magic). 

Main takeaways:

1. I found Alvarado’s explanation of tarot cards to be refreshingly rational compared to the belief that the cards retain some kind of mystical power. He compares the use of tarot cards to sprinkling white sand over invisible objects--there is knowledge retained by our subconscious that we can only access when prompted, right? It’s kind of like when you smell something and it reminds you of something you haven’t thought about in years. The tarot cards help sprinkle the sand over the invisible objects of your subconscious, giving them form and shape. The power was in you the whole time, the cards are merely a method to bringing it out. He writes that “the placement of the cards is completely random. If we allow no sentience or autonomy to the way the cards land, then the information derived from the cards is not inherent in the cards themselves but in the interpretation given to the random spread of symbols.” Alvarado also compares the use of tarot cards to getting a friend’s perspective on something. Sometimes the friend merely helps by allowing you to see something from an angle that you haven’t thought of yet.

2. The book recommends “time travel” by choosing a time period and using only objects that were available in that year/age for an afternoon or a day. I thought this would be a really cool way to get some insight on how people from different time periods might have felt.

3. Automatic writing--Alvarado recommends writing without thinking, which could serve as an antidote to writer’s block if you are able to turn off your inner critic and just write whatever words come to you in the moment. I think this is just a pretty cool creative exercise in general.

4. Ornithomancy: bear with me here--this is technically divination but similar to Alvarado’s earlier explanation of how tarot cards work. Ornithomancy is simply deriving ideas or creative insight from observing birds. That’s right, I said birds. Of course, as I’ve been saying, the magic is inside you already--the birds merely inspire. For this one, I urge you to stop taking yourself so seriously and just observe some birds. See what happens.

5. Burroughs’ Invisibility Technique: In public, give everyone around you the first look--subtle and firm, intentional but disinterested. It works to establish a power dynamic and makes other people far less likely to notice you.

6. Ganzfeld Technique: The scrying of sensory deprivation--this one is a little odd but I still want to try it. Similar to how Eleven in Stranger Things uses sensory deprivation, the Ganzfeld technique involves putting halves of ping pong balls over your eyes and playing white, brown or pink noise through headphones.

7. Bibliomancy: We’ve all probably done this one at some point. Bibliomancy is where you ask a question and then flip to a random page and sentence in a book you own (particularly a good one). 

Quotes I liked from DIY Magic:

I. “It you want to do something, the first step is to imagine yourself doing it.”

II. “You must sidle up to reality gently, like a friendly kitten. Like attracts like.”

III. “Magic works via power of imagination. Imagination works by metaphor.”

IV. “The mage seeks out the truth, that which works, in the high and low, in the commonplace and the obscure, with equal diligence.”

V. “Life is an experience that can be played with endlessly, and we should learn how to play in every register and octave of our instrument possible, and not just stay put in one spot that is thought of as normal.”

#books #book #book review #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #women writers #writers of tumblr #she writes #writing #write #litblr #bookblr #reading #book worm #bookworm #occult #diymagic #secular magic #secular witchcraft #secular witch #neopaganism #sympathetic magic #search for meaning #spirituality #wicca #witches #witchy #pagan #paganism

[oldblackpeacoat]

hi danny! i saw in your about you collected cds and was wondering what albums you considered essentials to own and also what you would still like to collect. i am wanting to start collecting myself 😌💿 have a nice day! 💕

hello, thank you for your question!! i'm glad you wanna start collecting - i think it's very important own physical media, though i am biased as i am the child of librarians.

firstly, i need to preface and say there is no wrong way to collect. you can collect however you want. however, contrarily, you shouldn't regret buying a cd nor should you think "well, everyone else has it so so should i".

personally i consider anything you love an essential to own. if it's an album you have on-repeat, is by an artist you love, have nostalgia for or whatever it may be, i think you ought to get it. a cd collection should be something you love and are excited about.

i recommend scouring charity shops (or the equivalent in your country), using ebay, amazon's buy second-hand feature or musicmagpie (or equivalent) for older or more popular releases and supporting your local record shop for newer ones. this is what i do but it is not gospel. i also, personally, avoid discogs... and there is no shame in getting a "best of" cd.

getting a good cd player (and burner - make physical mixtapes!!) is important; i'd invest in a good one as it can (and should) last you many years. the one i have that's just had it was owned by the ppl who owned the house before us and is probably a good fifteen years old. it had a audiojack and that was amazing to listen to albums in bed with good headphone off of cd.

i don't think these are essentials but i love these very much. my chem's three cheers lived in my player before i gave out as did jeff buckley's grace. i will always recommend everything and anything aaliyah - start with her singles; most good record shops stock her "best of" in the RnB section. as for classics, joy division's unknown pleasures, the stone roses's the stone roses and the cure's disintergration all tend to get a lot of playtime. nick cave’s abattoir blues / lyre of orpheus and kate bush’s hounds of love are what we play a lot of in the car when we aren’t on 24hr smashing pumpkins, tindersticks and electric eel shock lockdown. also, tatsuro yamashita’s for you is a fucking spectacle of an record as is yves tumor’s heaven for a tortured mind.

as for albums i want: bowie's station to station has been something i keep meaning to pick up, physicals of rina sawayama’s work, tally hall's good and evil and legend of zelda physical soundtracks as well. they have pikmin ones but they're so fuck-off expensive i just couldn't. mars argo's technology is a dead bird physicals are so rare they might not even exist. i'd like to own an original print i brought you my bullets as it has a message printed on the cd that is not in later prints although i already own that and spent far too much on it so that is something for if i ever get super fuck-off rich and can afford it AND a morgage.

i hope this is coherent and helps. love to you today and always <33

#asks #anon

[dzpenumbra]

3/30/23

Today was a pretty cool day. I thought I caught up on sleep, but apparently I didn't because I've been exhausted all day. I did that yoga routine I enjoyed yesterday again, it was just as nice today. Ate on the floor and watched YT, then showered. Then I called back the health center. They had left me a message this morning, they got me in with a new doctor. I got set up with an appointment tomorrow at 3:15. Just a 15 minute get-to-know-you kinda thing, I guess... same as before... But I strongly doubt they do more than 15 minutes for anything but surgery anymore. Shit's crazy. So yeah, we'll see how that goes.

Then, I strapped my new board to my backpack, got on my hybrid board and rode up to the local skatepark. It was only about... idk, less than 2 miles, I'd say. Uphill the whole way. But... my electric board made quick work of that.

I tried riding in the bike lane... and accidentally hit someone's side view mirror with the wheel of my board strapped to my back. I felt really bad. I didn't mean to. I just... there was only one lane on the left side, and I ride regular... and the board is on my back... and the lane is like... really fucking narrow... I don't think it did any damage, I just... I felt bad. It made me anxious.

I found the park very easily and it was just... complete DIY thrown together hometown crust park. And I was totally cool with it! It reminded me of the park I skated growing up in my hometown. And it was tucked away on what used to be an old tennis court, and it was really set back into nature, so it was nice to be around trees again and all that. When I got there, a kid came over to me. It was the kid who sold me my board and recommended the place! XD He and a friend were skating. They were really good, I was impressed. And humbled. And I just sorta... did my thing. Second session of the season, first one at this park, just... trying to find things I felt comfortable doing.

I think I was there close to 2 hours. I got nosemanual-shuv back, which was a cool feeling. Which should mean nollie shuv isn't far off. Which means pop shuv is somewhere in the ballpark eventually. Nollie is coming back slowly, ollie is getting really dialed in. Front 1s are going okay, there was this really beat up old funbox there and I did one off the side of one of the kickers. It took a few tries, I was feeling really unsteady landing fakie on loose trucks, it's still a new experience for me, but I got it there. I got a few BS noseslides on a little concrete curb, and on the coping of a low manny pad too, which was cool. I have BS so much better than FS, they feel so different. I honestly don't know how to carry my weight on FS, I think I sit way too far "forward" (while moving backwards) and I just slip out... or I sit all my weight entirely on top of my nose and it just stalls and I basically pivot quickly to fakie. I'll have to play around with my weight a bit, I think, I'm guessing that's probably what's doing it.

More and more people started flooding in, which I was not used to at all. And after a while, I realized I was just kinda... standing around and not really skating much. I was pretty anxious. I had headphones in, everyone else there seemed to know each other, for the most part. I was the oldest one there by a fucking longshot, and it made me a bit self-conscious. I feel like when people see someone in their mid-30's at a skatepark, they expect them to like... be good. And I'm really not that good, honestly. Just being realistic. I have experience, I can do some tricks, but I wouldn't say I'm... "good". So... since I was feeling anxious, I went over to the opposite side of the park from where I had been camped, to just... go outside my comfort zone.

I started skating that manny pad, it was like... 8 inches tall? I really wish they had an even lower one, but it's a nice height. So... I decided at one point... "I'm going to ollie up onto it." Not really the most "impressive" thing in the world, since I can literally ollie like... I don't know, more than twice that height. But I didn't go for it because it was "impressive", I went for it because I was scared of it. I was scared of hanging my back trucks, as always. Or... just some unknown fear of like "you're gonna fuck it up and wreck" or something, that force that just glues your shoes to the ground. And I was just like... no... No... I really just didn't want that to fucking win. And I wanted to push against it and prove it wrong. So I did one tiny practice ollie over a crack in the pavement and said fuck it and went for it and did it first try. No problem at all. No one even noticed! XD Of course, I mean... what would they be noticing? They had no idea the battle going on in my head, for all they knew that was an everyday trick for me.

Most of the ramps had big puddles of water and crap at the base of them, but I found a few skatelite ramps that were clean and dry and tucked away at the back of the park, so I went for it. I was playing around with different powerslide and pivot powerslide combinations. I like them, they're weird. Drifting powerslide rotations on skatelite feels similar to doing what I used to call "spin slides" on snowskates, but it has a lot more grip and friction so you can actually control it a lot more rather than just kinda dialing in how much force you need to throw into the rotation and then praying to all the gods you choose to worship. I did a lot more than I was planning. I can pretty comfortably do both FS and BS powerslides on a bank now, and BS pivot powerslide is one of my go-to fun tricks so that's definitely in the bag. What I tried to do was basically... I over-rotated one of the powerslides and I realized that with more force I could probably keep the rotation going. So I took the FS powerslide and tried to turn it into a full 360 powerslide, coming back down the ramp fakie. Again... I had the whole... not used to riding loose trucks fakie problem. But... I did land it. One or two were a bit segmented, like powerslide... split second pause... second powerslide. But I did get a pretty smooth one. And I did one where I reversed the rotation and rewinded it, which was cool feeling but I have no idea how it looked.

That session on the ramp was pretty fun and I really started getting creative and trying new things. The ramp was much steeper than anything I've really ridden before, definitely steeper than the banks back at the old hometown park. But I started to get used to it pretty quickly. Oh, and I also did ollie to fakie and FS 1 on it, so that was cool. I really think I just need to put in the hours to get comfortable and used to being on a board in a lot of different positions. That made a huge difference with snowskating. Just cruising and getting used to my boardfeel in different situations. Like... two of the best things I did just in general for snowskating were to 1) just cruise the sidewalks and bomb the hill at the park, and 2) practice landing ollies with a decent amount of speed. Getting used to how it felt to be on the board at different angles and different speeds, with different foot positions was very helpful all-around, and with the ollies, landing... practicing landing on a super low-friction object and riding away with a decent amount of momentum helped a ton in overall confidence in landing shuvs and flips at any speed. So... I need to build up that familiarity with my board, and that will come in time. Especially if I keep riding my electric board too, being on a board will be complete second nature to me if I use it to travel literally everywhere.

After all that, I decided to call it. There were storms predicted tonight, and the prediction did come true. And I was just... exhausted, and knew I still had to ride home. So... off I went. And the ride back was all downhill, which was nice. It was fine. Until... I came across a broken needle in the fucking street. And it just... really upset me. Because I felt a lot safer than I expected to throughout the day. I had been building up so much anxiety and paranoia, and then I went and it was like... college kids and people walking their dogs and shit. And I was just like... "wow, these are like... normal people." And then those fucking junkies had to throw my anxiety one fucking shred of evidence. Which is all that fucker needs sometimes. Ugh. So... I can plot out a different route there if needed? I can try, at least? Maybe it's just that one section of town that's a bit run-down, I don't know. Ugh. It just left a bad taste in my mouth, you know? So yeah, I just... had to look past that, I guess. And keep my eyes forward.

Since I got back, it's been pretty chill. I'm exhausted. I did more desire path project work, up to 60 runs now, the path is still not forming in-game, but my map is coming along nicely. I think I'm going to shoot for 100 runs, then maybe start a new path from one of the established points or something. Not sure yet.

And while I was making dinner, I tried to make a salt solution so I can try to grow my own salt crystals. It's been on my to-do list since the week I moved in. I followed the instructions and everything, I'm just... there was a TON of salt leftover, so I don't know if the solution will be saturated enough? But we'll see, I guess. It's going to sit and separate tonight, then tomorrow evening I'll filter it and then probably set up my first batch and then... in a few weeks, I should have some homegrown crystals. Pretty cool.

And yeah, that's pretty much the day. New doctor visit tomorrow, therapy after, then who knows. But for now, I'm gonna go try pass out.

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts