#I have No clue who took that first photo I got it off their social media

[till-death-us-do-part]

Chris Harms on the catwalk for designer Tom Rebl.

‘Rock Fashion Night 2010’ at Universal Hall in Berlin. January 22nd, 2010

📷: IMAGO & Chriz Lohn for aedt.de

📹: Heiko Seifert, Patrick Müller / Panikers, LocationTV

[inkblotsinkblots-alt]

My experience with [band]

My experience with [band] and [band]'s management starts in April 2022. I had emailed the band's business email that used to be in their bio in December 2021, and in April 2022 I got a response. I had been asked if I was available within the next couple of weeks to come down to Brighton and do a photo shoot with the band. Management really liked my work, and wanted to work with me. I was asked to provide my rates and any expenses that would incur. I had asked if I would be at least credited for these images on social media (tagged etc ...), and management said that they could not commit to that at that time. This photo shoot did not happen.

I worked with [band] for the first and only time in January 2023 and photographed / videoed their set.

I was completely blindsided by the fact that this could’ve been a huge opportunity for me, and it could change my career completely. When I got the email inviting me to work with the band, I screamed and actually worried my parents for a few minutes. I agreed to terms that I shouldn’t have (not a full written agreement, but various statements in emails). In hindsight I had no clue what some of them meant (and I think the band’s management knew that).

There was no formal contract, only emails. The band would own my photos 'in perpetuity' and when I asked what that meant, they (management) said that 'the band have the freedom to use them however they please'. Making money off of my photos, and putting them on merch that they would then sell out of, was not mentioned. I was under the impression they would only be using the photos on social media as I did not get any clarification, even though I asked for it. I wanted to press for a more detailed answer, but I was afraid that I'd lose the job.

This was never about the money that I'd potentially make from having my photos on merch, it's that I didn't even know it was happening. I was also 'allowed' to upload '3-4' photos to my social media from the gig, even though they were my photos. I was stupid enough to agree with this. Again, I felt as though if I challenged this I would lose the job.

At the end of the show in January 2023 I was promised at least a couple of shows on the upcoming tour, as '[I was] great to work with. Such a pleasure.' I have no evidence that I was offered shows during that tour as it was said to me in person. I was then let down at the beginning of March (after multiple follow up emails) with 'I don't think there is the additional need for your services also' when I asked about discussing the tour. I was devastated.

I was offered photo passes* to subsequent Manchester gigs and I took them as they had no strings attached, and the band would not own my images (that's why you've seen a lot of them on my socials).

I met a bunch of well-known creators, musicians and photographers while working with [band] and they were all so very sweet. Some of which I am still in contact with today, and some I am good friends with. I am very grateful for this.

I fully support Shelby, she is so incredibly brave for talking about her experiences, and it's because of her bravery that I felt confident enough to share my experience - although very different in nature.

I fully believe that [band]’s management wanted to take advantage of fans who wanted to photograph [band]’s gigs. And pay them as little as possible with no consistency in pay between photographers or how many photos they were allowed to post. (This is my own opinion)

I am not the only one that has had a negative experience with [band] and their management as a photographer / creative, but those are not my stories to tell and if they want to comment then they will. Please don't speculate on who these people are or harass them on social media, they have every right to not want to talk about their experiences. Please respect everyone involved.

Massive love, take care of yourselves.

am

(*Photo passes are offered to press photographers and non-touring photographers. They shoot the first three songs from the photo pit and then leave. Either to go into the crowd for the rest of the gig, or leave the gig entirely.)

please do not edit this post or reblog, do not take screenshots and post this on twitter or any other social media platform, thank you.

[ladythornofrivia]

popsicle

pair: sanzu x reader

warnings: cheating, sanzu being naughty, and toxic husband with profanity, secret affair, mentions of depression, mentions of insecurities, sanzu being h*rny and flirty, sanzu being a douchebag, but still lovable in his own way.

a/n: sorry being inactive. i’ve been obsessed with Getou, hence I changed my username. oh yes, i also have an ao3 account, yay!

• On a hot summer day, you stayed at the house, waiting for your husband to come home. It happens quite often when you’re bored and repressed by the expectations of what it means to be a good wife. Cleaning, pampering, and the means of being a “tidy wife”.

• Your husband didn’t come home that night. The food you prepared went into the fridge or at the trash bin, sometimes you ate the whole meal to a point where a husband shames your big appetite. Kept bragging about how the girls in porn magazines have much better figure and features. You couldn’t help but to feel down. You know that in your heart the girls in magazines have more plastic than the ocean combine.

• One morning, you overheard him talking in his sleep, moaning, even. You didn’t want the noise so you slept on the couch. Though when you went to the bathroom, you overheard your husband talking, awake. You have no clue to who he was talking to, but his expression said otherwise. And it wasn’t promotion.

• The next morning, your husband was nowhere to be found. And feeling a little lonely, the urge to touch yourself from the tightness in your pajama pants, so you quickly went onto the couch, took off your clothes, and tried to find a pornographic video you could find on your phone. From there, you stumbled across the video, also in the couch, you find yourself watching a gorgeous man with long pink hair and teal eyes under the long white lashes, brutally pounding his dick inside the girl’s cunt. With a girl’s whiny moans, it was almost a deal breaker, but with a gorgeous man before your eyes, he winked at the camera and sped up his thrusts against her. You finger coated with cum, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more. You wanted to be in the same position as the girl on the video.

• And with that, you found yourself lucky with enough time in the house, wanting to be seen on the internet. At first you posted videos and selfies on the account, taking three shots until finding a perfect photo, but decided to upload all of them together. Then you decided to become as a part-time cam girl. Doing a first video of masturbation was awkward at first. So you took a shower and put a lot of skincare to make an effort of looking flawless on screen first. The moment the awkward tension has gone down, you sat down, without undergarments, with your spread legs, your fingers dipped down into the hole as your breasts bounced for every movement shifted. Coming down from a high climax was real accomplishment, thus planning to have more brand new lingerie to tease the audience.

• The next morning, your account on the cam website blown up. Your cam girl views went viral through pornographic websites, your figure is and your skin are lustrous and flawless. Even on the tweets, you have gone viral—your body has gone viral. Many likes and many comments. And all the pornstars wanted to collab with you. Most of all, what got your attention is when Sanzu subtweeted your videos and commented on every single pictures you posted, praising you with dirtiest comments.

• Everything is perfect. Except the efforts of keeping secrecy from your husband, living as a double life will be impossible, unless blurting out that you’re making good money from the elicit websites. With your husband ignoring your existence, it should be easy, despite being hurtful by his intentions. At night, you waited for him to fall asleep to do your naughty sessions online. More views had gone up, and with your social media accounts, pornstars have bombarded you with not so flirting and thirsting. You ignored all of them except for the gorgeous man with pink hair who goes by the name of Sanzu. Sanzu is the most popular pornstar/camboy. Although you’ve seen him from the screen, you wanted to know what he sounds like.

•Even in your dreams, you dreamt of him fucking you in you and your husband’s bed. Everything were hopes and dreams, but then days changed when your friend decides to set up a group hangout, you and your friends hung out at the department store to wear for the karaoke. Accidentally bumping against a tall frame, you apologized immediately, you looked up and saw tall men in suits. When one was about to grip on your shirt, the other man stepped in and told the other guy to back off. You immediately noticed the long pink hair, but you have never seen a gorgeous face with diamond-shaped scars. Maybe you’ve mistaken the man for Sanzu. Maybe he isn’t Sanzu. He looks like him, but he looks terrifying.

• Though you weren’t the only one checking him out. Sanzu checked you out with a long teasing glimpse and gave a smirk. For a while it’s been awkward full of groups, but eventually you and Sanzu hit it off, hanging out and singing in the karaoke. Sanzu wanted to be alone with you; he figured out who you are based on your birthmark on your neck; your hair style tucked at the backside. He couldn’t help but to flirt with you more as you separated your ways from the group. Luckily your husband wasn’t home.

• Sanzu bought two popsicles—both strawberry flavored—a perfect way to savor the sweet, hot summer. As you relished the taste of popsicle, Sanzu couldn’t help but noticed your tongue swirling on the tip, then trailed down at the length. When he cleared his throat, you looked up at him, realizing what you’ve done, thus behaving like a good girl.

• You and Sanzu talked until he said, “I know who you are. I did my research after my own live stream. You’re (y/n), the girl with good grades and reputation, never drink or do drugs, never had sex, even with your husband. Your husband won’t be home for a while; he’s out with his mistress. He always leaves early and arrives here later at night.”

• You staggered, licking your lips as you stare at Sanzu drinking and eating the sight of him like a popsicle. “How did you know?”

• Sanzu chuckled, trailing his fingers onto your skin. “I know my ways of knowing everybody. You’re aware of the organization that controls the area you’re living in right now. I kill traitors and cheaters alike. Sanzu, second commander in Bonten, to King Mikey.”

• You figured it was Bonten, the infamous group who tries to patrol every street and buildings. Living in a shelter is too much of getting your naïveté to grow.

• “Open yourself up to me, and I can show you ways of what it means to have a man inside you,” he coerced, lifting your leg inch by inch.

• With a comply, you let Sanzu ripped its way into you with his cock, rocking his hips as your couch creaked. Moaning, your arms strapped around his muscled body, breathing and moaning into his ears. Sanzu chuckled, kissing your neckline. “Hold onto me, kitty. It’s going to be a bumpy ride. Just for a record, I don’t have condom with me.”

• His efforts on making you feel satisfied, your needs of pleasure came soon to an end, but you don’t want it to end. Sanzu felt sadness in you, so he gave you his phone number. But since you don’t have a smartphone—restricted by your husband, he gave you his spare phone, and has another one in his other pocket. And within days, you and Sanzu talked, as if you guys have known each other for a long time. Each time you texted Sanzu, you feel elated as if single. But feeling guilty each time your husband’s footsteps came. Hiding your double life and a phone from Sanzu wasn’t easy. Your husband wanted to spend time with you, but you declined and said you’re heading out for shopping groceries and clothes, when all you did was fucking Sanzu in his penthouse.

• After months on spending each other’s company, you came back into your house and your husband beaten you almost to death, saying how unreliable and liar you are. The next day, you couldn’t face Sanzu, but Sanzu figured out your husband beaten you up to a point he ordered his men to kidnap your husband and kill him without remorse. After that, for a while you haven’t seen your husband, not that you care, of course, and Sanzu eventually came into your place, notifying you of your husband’s passing. You knew your husband’s dead, and delved into Sanzu’s arms, crying.

•Kissing at the top of your hair, Sanzu said, “You should move in with me. Pack your most valuable things and we can fuck each other as long as we like. I can treat you better than that man. You’re special to me, (y/n). And I don’t ever plan on letting you go. I’ve seen the way you lick the popsicle, and I can’t help but feel a little jealous.” Thus he unveiled his mask, and kissed onto your lips, with a following of slow and sensual fucking—no cameras and live stream involved. Your life is in content with Sanzu, and with Sanzu, your freedom has been granted more than ever.

• “Get down on your knees,” he said, gripping your hair softly. “I want you to lick me like a popsicle.”

[yanderecyberpunkimagines]

Good luck with your new blog! Royce with an obsession who is the daughter of a massive corporation’s rich CEO? Bet its impossibly difficult for him to get her! But I’m curious how it can go. We need more Royce.

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

Creative ask! And thank you very much! I’ll try to post things whenever I can, although very slowly as some may have already noticed.

And you are right! Underneath *normal circumstances*, I believe it’d be impossible for a gang such as the Maelstrom to kidnap someone of such a tremendously high profile. But, considering how V’s adventure went down, perhaps nothing is really impossible right at this point. Counting double in the glorious world of fanfiction. Of course, I wrote it in such a way what the risks are, and how big the chance would be in the way this universe works in my eyes. I also made a little scenario in case he manages to pull part of it off.

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

Warning: Gun violence, mentioning of gore!

Simon “Royce” Randall

All it took was the simple mention of your name in some magazine article as he surfed the net, looking for information about your father/mother's gigantic company and the latest high-end microchips and associated hardware and firmware they were about to release.

As a precaution, because he didn't quite know how intertwined you would be with corporate affairs surrounding your parent's company, he sought you out through various sources. Flawless skin, a pure smile, sparkling eyes and a youthful and innocent aura surrounded you with the surprisingly scant amount of photos he found about you, in addition to some minor details about who you approximately were like as a person…

You eventually got him hooked as heavily as a partygoer who snorted up their very first line of synthetic coke....

Getting to you directly is an impossible task for a notorious gang leader such as Royce. He doesn't have the right technology, the money, the influence, the reputation, the experience, the delicate skillset and the natural charm and social skills needed to even be able to get anywhere near you, let alone take you away underneath some pretense. Nor do any of his underlings or any of his direct contacts. He is smart and barely tactical enough to realize this, but not smart enough to spend any length of time viewing and observing the bigger picture, for he is incredibly impatient, aggressive and impulsive to the titanium synth-bone.

Still, his tough, ballsy and unpredictable nature might be the desired trait that could be his little blessing in a situation like this. Although there’s a huge chance that it could quickly become his unbreakable curse if he doesn't play his cards right. Especially because he’s about to play them in the middle of Night City, where even the air itself is under constant watch by almost every corporation out there.

Still, the very first thing he does is convincing his fellow gang members that you should be kidnapped anyway and used as a bargaining chip for large amounts of money, hardware and important information through some sort of an intermediate construct. Anyone who even thinks about questioning him about his crazy plan is eliminated almost immediately, causing the rest of the Maelstrom to automatically fall in line, not knowing that he intends to never let you go at all, especially when you somehow end up falling for the black-hearted Maelstromer in return.

Just to prepare for your kidnapping, he will cash in a lot of favors from various sources, try to get a rival corporation of yours to help him in some way and he will work his subordinates until they leak synth-blood to finance the operation itself. A little bit of extra manpower; especially a small group consisting of at least one experienced netrunner, the right corpo rat from your family’s corporation, one techie and two seasoned solos would be needed to successfully take you to him in a relatively short amount of time without leaving behind too many clues that his gang’s about to be involved in it. The ones who are not cheap at all, but whom he will drop and forget as if they are a very bad habit. As long as they get the job done without a single minor flaw, that is. He will randomly try to kill at least one of them in the most brutal fashion he can think of at the time if they do, without caring about the consequences, whatsoever.

Speaking of consequences; the chances of him successfully catching you are still very, very slim at this point. If anything, he will crash, burn and take most of the Maelstrom with him if they don't figure out soon enough what he is actually trying to do. If they do and realize what his actual plans are, then they’d love nothing more than to put him down like the murderous animal he already is that he has become when antagonized for the actual reason he’s set up this very risky, dangerous and downright psychotic operation.

If he by a wonder manages to get you, there’s still a lot that needs to be done.

First of all, your tracker would needs to be surgically removed and destroyed by a relatively skilled and trustworthy ripperdoc who isn’t too well known. A woman who he currently has at his disposal at Clean Cut clinic.

He also needs to find a way to vastly alter your biomonitor data- make you a completely different person than what’s recorded at NC’s MedCenter with an expired subscription up to boot. A person who obviously doesn’t exist in direct comparison to their records, but a creative plan of action for the time being. If it fails, he’ll just force the ripperdoc to disable, or preferably remove and/or replace it like he already planned to do with almost any other non-vital piece of [L/N]’s company chrome that may be embedded inside of your body. He wouldn’t want you to summon the Trauma Team; and even the S.W.A.T. and the [L/N] company’s private military forces to an extent, when the former realizes who it is they need to rescue from the abandoned All Foods factory after you may deliberately manage to hurt yourself somewhere in the short long run. 

One wrong move from the doc though, and an accidental ping from either your biomon or your tracker’s transmitting signal to the local open network may bring in a whole different kind of hell for the Maelstrom. Of course, Royce already planned that out too, although not at all in detail because he obviously isn’t the type who’d think too far ahead about any potential possibilities. He’ll throw the entire gang to the dogs as a pathetic attempt just so that he has a bit of a smoke screen to leave Night City as soon as he can, forcefully pulling you along with him with a rough sketch of a faraway destination already in mind.

In a way, it’s remarkable how a man who’s ended up having a large part of his frontal lobe removed managed to plan, organize the mission and execute it in the way he did the second he developed a severe crush on you. Of course, he’ll never lose his highly aggressive edge and has the distinct lack of being able to self-monitor and control most of his own actions. Actions which are often brutal and bloody by nature. Of course, he isn’t the smartest tool in the shed during certain situations, either.

Ending on that note; what if he magically manages to make the first few steps of his original plan to actually work? I imagine it goes something like this;

~Short scenario~

Your father/mother ultimately had a premonition of what the city's underworld was about to do with the information that the company's private security department had eventually gathered through trusted business associates and from the streets through the use of their company's ever-present undercover agents.... Although they could not yet determine exactly which gang would be the ultimate mastermind behind the up and coming attack.

Yet, the safest place for you to be at would be within the company's highly secured penthouse at the very top of one of the mega-buildings found in Night City’s City Centre, right between Biotechnica and Arasaka tower. You had to be transported from your family's private property in the middle of North Oak by air. They decided it should happen on the hush hush, so they believed it’d be better that no other company aerodynes with an unique set of extra bodyguards should circle around yours during transport. It would catch too many unwanted attention…

Unfortunately, it happened so quickly and from such strange angles, in meat- as in cyberspace, that they barely had time to firmly increase security around your well-being and to think this plan of action through with their private advisors, nor to fully prepare for a proper counterattack as a precautionary measure.

The company's aerodyne was struck by an unexplainable malfunction during flight, practically forcing it to land somewhere in the middle of an intersection barely on the outskirts of Japantown. Your personal group of bodyguards immediately arranged for reinforcements because of this sudden change in circumstance. One that seems almost perfectly orchestrated as black cars and SUVs swiveled through the string of suburban vehicles that have long since screeched to a halt at and near the surrounding traffic lights.

Or at least, the bodyguards tried to call for reinforcements just before the high-security communications line, normally used by the company's private security, was hijacked by an outside source. Apparently, your private tracker was also turned off, and you couldn’t get it back on after you ran your systems diagnostic and repair software, the latter somehow being corrupted by a virus.

This was the moment when everyone, including yourself, knew 100% that you were all currently under attack by a party that knew exactly what they were doing.

With the special locks activated and your group’s netrunner having hacked into the local network to determine the angle of the overall attack through the cameras, your bodyguards eventually instructed you to follow two of the guys as soon as they would unlock the left door, while the rest would cover your retreat by firing back from either sides of the AV. The final destination would be the exact coordinates of a S.W.A.T. team’s armored hovercraft that would meet you somewhere halfway, and had already been summoned for your immediate extraction the second the flying AV got struck. The rest of their cavalry would also soon arrive, including a fraction of your mother/father's private company army.

Your organic heart hammered indiscriminately against your ribcage the moment you saw a bullet fly by, followed by a pained scream echoing from somewhere across the other side of the aerodyne as you were pulled along.

Plenty of people scurried from their cars the second the shoot-out started, screaming in fear instead as they did.

With a quick glance, all you could see was that the people who were attacking you most definitely didn’t belong to the selfsame group. A group that clearly is not of the ordinary sort. Still, their disguises fully prevent you from seeing who they actually are.

"Eyes forward, Miss [L/N]!"

You obediently do as told, letting yourself be guided towards one of the side streets. From afar, you already see a bunch more people scrambling away for their lives after you’d rounded the corner- obviously haven heard the loud, distinct pops of gunfire from afar.

They escort you into a narrow side street, trying to bring you round back in order to avoid any vehicles that could have been zeroing in if they’d decided to take the main sidewalk directly towards the supposed destination instead.

Alas, the enemy took this scenario into consideration as a spray of blood suddenly washes over you just as your group entered some inner court between three skyscrapers.

 The bodyguard who walked in front of you slumps to the ground with a wide gape torn through his neck. You completely froze in place, eyes wide with fear and your nose instinctively crunching up at the distinct smell of warm iron.

The other who ran behind you pushes you to the side, ready to attack, only to be hit in the leg. He screams, still stands upright, and manages to take aim at one of three attackers. He shoots. As another bullet hits his selfsame leg- crippling him, his bullet pierces through the skull as they fall backwards. Dead.

Panicked, you try to help up the man, but he simply pushes away your arms. “Just go!” he screams, taking aim again.

Decided with a heavy heart, you start running back to where you came from, and look back. Another shot. This one hits the helmet of a mysterious guy who decided to rush forward with a shotgun.

A violent exhale of air escapes you, however, as your widened eyes rolled over the revealed face of one of your many attackers, showing you only a deep red set of LED optics.

Does this mean that It is the Maelstrom who is involved in your possible abduction? The most brutal and dangerous gang currently known to Night City? This is bad… Very bad…

He shoots the badly injured bodyguard in the head - and officially finishes him off, before coming after you like the devil is on his heavily modified hind legs.

Without losing another second, you run even faster and curve into one of the alleyways that directly leads towards the open road, already making a second attempt to turn on your personal tracker, but in vain. You needed admin access to turn it back on again.

It is certain now. There is a big rat lurking in your family's business. A rat that has somehow found the right software and protocols needed to remotely disable your tracker and overwrite it’s attached user access almost instantly.

With clenched teeth, you run in hopes of reaching the S.W.A.T. team that should be lurking somewhere nearby by now. But before you could round a corner, you are suddenly pulled back by the collar of your bloodied, expensive designer cardigan.

A lanky mechanical arm clamped you and both your arms against the attacker's larger body, before something was jammed into your neurosocket after being pried open, closely followed by a shard being inserted into your neuroport.

You kicked behind you, screamed and threw your head back at least once as an endless series of code and warning signs flashed before your fear-ridden eyes. The few blows you managed to land might as well mean nothing, for he was strong enough to take all your desperate hits. A man clearly jacked up by subdermal body plating and with bones long since replaced by a metallic endoskeleton.

Alas.

The world slowly turns to black after that as your body weakens by each passing second.

The last thing you could make out was the goon calling someone through a burner agent before you completely lost consciousness; “Caught ‘er, boss. We’ll be heading towards the meat processor straight up. Meet ya there halfway.”[1]

1 = I somehow stumbled on https://cyberpunk.fandom.com/wiki/Agent whilst searching for something else, and came on the idea that the Cyberpunk universe must have something similar to burner phones. I also bet that the Maelstrom’s smart enough to make use of such things during their most brutal and/or risky kidnappings and hit jobs.

[thelonesomequeen]

I'm confused like they got engaged but she's not wearing the ring , why ?

I think there’s really 3 easy answers here that immediately came to kind for me.

1. She looked like she was in pajamas when the picture was taken. A lot of women do not sleep with their engagement rings on. I never did and I still don’t. It’s very easy to bend or damage a prong in your sleep which can compromise the safety of a diamond (or whichever stone) and cause it to fall out. It also took me scratching my own face with it accidentally two nights in a row when I was first engaged to decide I was done wearing my ring to bed. When the pajamas go on, the rings come off. I put them back on when I get ready for the day the next morning. I also personally don’t wear my during cooking, cleaning, yard work, in the pool, or travel and a lot of women are the same way. This option seems to be the most likely to me because I don’t think we saw any other photos of Alba from the weekend? Just the one of her in pajamas. In that case, we have no way of knowing if she didn’t slip the ring back on later.

2. They aren’t ready for gossip rags or tabloids to pick up the engagement. Whether you all believe it or not, when there is gossip about a specific celebrity, magazines have interns and writers watch specific fan spaces or social media accounts to look for clues to link things together. Think back to the Just Jared Pumpkin article. They wrote that whole article based on fan speculation and gathering the picture proof of the matching pumpkins from Alba’s mom’s Facebook and Chris’s IG post. Think back to DM trying to connect the two of them together during that New Years and Vegas trip. She mentioned almost all of the connected people (Scott, Tara, Justin, etc.) on her podcast. If tabloids are looking for a scoop and want to be the first to drop it (an engagement article would be huge) they know who to keep an eye on to find clues. A simple picture with friends where a ring is clearly seen would be proof enough for them to run with a headline that said something like “Alba Baptista spotted with ring amid engagement to Chris Evans rumors.”

3. Are her friends attention seekers? Based on fan commentary, I think a large majority of this fandom would say yes. There might be a lot of things that all of us disagree on, but the one thing this fandom seems to be united on is agreeing that her friends are attention seekers. Now I know that we don’t know them personally, but if there is even an ounce of that statement that could be the truth, I can also understand why she would choose not to wear a ring around her friends. All it would take is one of them taking a picture of her with the ring in clear sight without her knowing and sending it off to a tabloid with a short story for some cash. And the sad part about it is she might not even be able to pinpoint which friend betrayed her. While I think this is the most unlikely option, I’m also not gonna pretend like friends and family have not to be trade celebrities to tabloids before for a payday.

Now I do understand that some people will refuse to believe that they are engaged until they can see the ring for themself. I can understand that mindset. People want solid evidence and I don’t think that’s really unfair. However, a photo only depicts one short moment of someone’s life. Not their entire life or even their entire day. A photo is not always the best source of proof in some situations. I mentioned above how I frequently take my rings off to keep them safe and protected. Does that mean if somebody takes a picture of me when I have them off and you can see that I’m not wearing rings that I am not married to my husband? No. Of course not. Do we see the issue with that logic now? While that picture isn’t showing you what you want to be seeing (proof of the engagement) it also might not be representing the truth of the situation ��either.

There are also plenty of times we do have picture or video evidence of them together and people still try to scream it isn’t true. Alba and Chris showed up to the Ghosted premier together. They were photographed in Portugal together. Let’s also not forget all the times that they were together that he showed us proof of himself via his Instagram stories. She didn’t do that, her friends didn’t do that, he did that. He is the one that shared proof that they’ve been spending time together (some in locations none of us had even known they’d gone) and people still refuse to take it as the truth. So what good does evidence even do when there are so many people that refuse to believe the truth anyway? Or at the very least, the truth that he wants you to be believing. 🦎



[ochalife]

Exactly a year and a half ago, I broke off a 5 year relationship. I thought that the breakup was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with and move on from about that relationship, but then turns out I was very wrong because the aftermath of everything was the most difficult part of it all.

My ex-boyfriend and I have been together since I was in grade 11 and we went to the same school for college but broke up before the summer after my 2nd year, so obviously that was one of the things I dreaded after the breakup because that meant I would have to deal with the possibility of seeing him on campus everyday. Which I did see him a lot, even crossing paths with him as early as 6:30am in the school parking.

How the relationship ended is a deep lore, because everything isn’t how I thought it was and the missing pieces only came together almost a year after the breakup. We broke up on good terms by the way, no other girl (that I knew of at the time), we just had to come to the fact that the relationship just wasn’t working anymore and we were too tired and drained to keep on trying.

Anyway, in short, he got together with the girl I was suspicious about 6 months after the breakup. The girl was someone who was very close to him even when we were still together, who tried to befriend me even though I had a bad feeling about her, so I repeatedly kept telling my ex to stay away from her because I had a gut feeling she was into him but he couldn’t be bothered to push her away even if I asked.

Seeing them together hurt me for the longest time, even more than the breakup or coming to the realization that the relationship itself was super shitty and I wasn’t treated that well in the first place. I felt incredibly betrayed because I never thought that someone who I shared 5 years of my life with could be ever do that to me. Also embarrassed because literally everyone knew what was up with the 3 of us even when we were still together so their whole relationship had my name tied to it even if I didn’t want to. It was painful, I cried so many times over it and I was bitter because I couldn’t believe it.

We went no contact the day after the breakup and very thankfully, no one broke it. I blocked him on every social media earlier this year for the sake of my peace, so I don’t have a clue what goes on in his life. Honestly, he’s dead to me, like buried 6 feet below the ground dead, so I don’t really care what he does with his life anymore.

Yesterday, I went out with a friend who was still mutuals with him on Instagram and caved in to the curiosity of taking a peek at his posts. He posts his new girl on there a lot as my friend had said and when I looked at his highlights of her, they seem go out together on so much dates too. They look happy and for a second there, I even thought that they were cute together.

Which kind of caught me off guard. Never in a million years would I wish my ex and his new girl well because of what they did to me, the betrayal and hurt that they caused me for the longest time, but here I am, genuinely wishing that they’re happy with each other. I wasn’t hurt when I looked at their photos together, not even a sliver of bitterness or ache in my chest. Nothing.

Nothing. Turns out nothing instead of anything or something is an entire blessing in itself too.

Only means: I’ve moved on, for real. Something I never thought I’d be able to do. It took longer than I wanted, but here I am anyway, a year and a half later. When I realized it today, I felt like crying because who would’ve fucking thought.

Turns out there was no reason to be bitter about someone else’s life if you’re happy with yours. Ever since the breakup, I’ve found peace and healed by surrounding myself with people who love me and by loving and taking care of myself too. I haven’t been in a relationship since that last one, which is okay because I recently realized that I may be on the aroace spectrum so I’m not really interested with intimate connection anymore.

I love my life. My family and friends love me and they always seek my presence so they ask me to hang out all the time. I’m able to spend my time the way I want and I never, ever feel lonely even if I’m alone most of the time. My energy is reserved for myself and the people that actually matter to me and I never have to worry about or consider someone else when it comes to anything. I picked up writing as a hobby again since I never wrote after getting into that relationship, so that’s a win.

So turns out it’s true that time heals. Life is insane, I’m so serious. I never expected my life to turn out this way because I was so sure that the guy I was going to spend the rest of my life with was him, so my future was set in stone from the start. But then life had other, better plans. I wouldn’t have life any other way :)

[lightxsheep71]

jesus christ i am so sorry about that weirdo? coming for you when they were the one who cut you off like wtf kind of crazy shit is that?

right..? like, i wouldn't have hardblocked them or even cared if they just softblocked me once. but they literally. kept. fucking. doing it. the first time they softblocked me i was confused as to why they would follow a second time, but figured maybe the first time they sb'ed was an accident that they didn't realize, and left it at that. but when it kept happening MULTIPLE times on MULTIPLE blogs and platforms (they unfriended me on discord as well) i was like, this shit is clearly on purpose and i'm not gonna put up with it? make up your mind, do you wanna be my mutual or not? i'll be cool with whatever you decide but i do not have the patience or mental energy to keep breaking and reestablishing contact with the same person over and over????

something that was really weird to me was that when they softblocked me, they also would keep dm'ing me before even refollowing me? so straight-up, they would just... decide that they didn't want to be mutuals anymore, but continue acting like we were. like fuck off, you don't get to enjoy my presence while simultaneously acting like you want nothing to do with me. i CANNOT deal with all the mixed fucking signals bro

the unprompted venting was definitely uncomfortable, but not unforgivable. i feel like maybe part of the reason they got jaded with me and softblocked me was that they felt like i didn't do enough to help when they were unloading their baggage onto me without asking if it was okay first fdgfdgjfdhgs... look man i don't know what people expect from me but i have low empathy in general and that's extra true if you're not close to me. if someone who has only ever addressed me by my url and never my actual name starts suddenly whining to me about their mommy issues, i am Going to be weirded out and not know how to respond. but yeah, it was weird and awkward, but whatever, some people are just bad at reading the room and understanding that certain things aren't exactly appropriate to discuss with people you don't know that well. but i mentioned to them that i have a specific phobia (which i will not name), and their response was verbatim, "you're scared of *** *****? lame," and to then send me a photo of that thing, with the text "********** jumpscare." like... what the actual fuck. i wouldn't tolerate that shit from my wife or any of my closest friends, let alone a perfect stranger. i think this person mentioned somewhere that they're autistic, and i'm not so i'm not even gonna pretend i understand what that's like, but i feel like that's not even just missing social cues at that point, that's quite literally just being actively fucking malicious and sadistic

and i'm sorry but telling someone with bpd and c-ptsd that they have "terminal burns bridges disorder" is just... such a depraved thing to say. it's an awful thing to say to anyone, of course, but ESPECIALLY someone who has a personality disorder and trauma stemming from repeated abandonment by loved ones. i never spoke to this person about my struggles with mental health (because unlike them i have the tact to not fucking traumadump to randos) but i do make vent posts about it fairly regularly (some of which they liked/responded to). so clearly they saw that i was struggling to reconcile my extensive trauma based around people exiting my life, and that i had a lot of insecurities and self-loathing surrounding that aspect of my past, and took it upon themself to just... tap that nerve. this person really just gets a kick out of exploiting people's triggers, i guess. is this some kind of weird need for power and control over others? no clue. but like... for ONCE in my life, i finally had the guts and the self-respect to take it upon myself to sever ties with someone who was hurting me, instead of putting myself in a position where they could continue to hurt me only to ultimately end up leaving me and thus make me believe i must have done something to deserve that. but then they come back and try to get into my head and convince me it was all my doing anyways. no, it couldn't be the case that i blocked you because you acted in ways around me that made me feel frustrated and anxious. i blocked you because that's how all my relationships are destined to end. with one person blocking the other. i am wholly incapable of maintaining close interpersonal relationships, and that is why we are no longer speaking. your own actions had nothing to do with it. the only reason is that i just suck at keeping people in my life. that's all.

the specific choice of wording stings so fucking badly, too. an illness being terminal means it is incurable. an illness being terminal means it will result in death. i know i said earlier in this post that i have low empathy, but even i truly cannot fathom the lack of compassion one would have to have in their heart to type that out and not pause for a moment and think to themself, "wow, this is actually a really fucked up thing to say to someone. i don't think i should send this after all." i feel like i'm not even allowed to vent in my own space anymore. even on my own personal blog, i apparently do not have the right to lament the ways my mental illnesses and trauma affect my functioning on a day to day basis, because someone will take the thoughts and feelings i finally feel un-self conscious enough to so painstakingly share, and weaponize them against me. i am being punished for expressing my own emotions in a space that i created for myself. let me reiterate that i am not on social media at all. i deleted all my accounts years ago because i kept getting into situations like this and realized that the only way to guarantee my own healing was to just completely withdraw from all of it. i came back to tumblr because this was the only site i still felt safe on, and now i don't even feel safe here anymore, either.

edit to add: i just wanted to point out, clearly in order to have discovered that they had been hardblocked, this person would have to have visited my blog, which meant they were either A) planning to kickstart yet another cycle of our on-again off-again acquaintanceship or B) hatereading my blog. so. if that doesn't cement that i am DEFINITELY not the fucked up one here, idk what will

[softykooky]

the habits of a broken heart.

☾ genre : soulmates au, unrequited love, art student!JK, english student!Y/N, angst, fluff, subtle enemies to lovers

☾ pairing : jeon jungkook x reader

☾ summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. 

alternatively,

“You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”

☾ word count: 26.3k (my biggest one yet!)

☾ author’s note: this took forever oh my gosh! i really hope you like it! it’s my first time writing such a big single piece, and trying a different style. thank you so much for your support, always! please let me know what you think ♡

The first time he had his heart broken, Jeon Jungkook had been 13 years old. He was fresh out of middle school and so ready to face his freshman year with an impressionable mind and plenty of voice cracks to earn him months worth of teasing. You see, at the age of 13, Jungkook wasn’t something to swoon over. He had yet to grow into his ears and Dr. Park assured him that his braces would be off as soon as she could get them. He was a little lanky and a bit too reticent to be considered social. So when a girl in his grade comes up to him, nervous and stuttering, and asks him to go to the heavily romanticized homecoming dance, Jungkook has already come to the conclusion that she might be his soulmate, even if he was far too young to get his mark yet. 

Her name was Mina, and Jungkook is confronted with this memory every time he visits home and his mother makes the family flip through the photo albums dating back to his high school years. He grimaces every time he sees the picture of them together. Him in a pink button-up to match her offensively ugly ruffled taffeta dress. 

Mina broke up with him three months after that picture was taken, through one of her friends no less and in front of his entire gym class. Jungkook couldn’t remember how long he cried for while he felt the pain from his first heartbreak would never go away, regardless of how much time passes. He held onto his mother and sobbed out the agony and humiliation of Mina not wanting to be his girlfriend anymore, and how he had lost his soulmate before he even knew it was her. His mother assured him that without the mark, there was no way to be sure and that there was hope. But back then, all Jungkook could think of was ways to avoid Mina the next day, especially when they sat next to each other in 3rd period biology.  

At 13 years old, Jungkook thought he would never find love again. 

He is 18 when he stands alongside his parents in a pale examination room and awaits his destiny. He’s leaving for college the next day, yet the only thing that’s making him nervous is the mark that will inevitably appear on his wrist in the next few minutes. The same one he would find on his soulmate’s, and Jungkook wonders if there is the possibility of scaring everyone away when the first thing he’ll ask on a date is: can I please see your wrist? 

To say the least, Jungkook is petrified. Because that mark on his wrist is going to serve as a constant reminder of his missing piece, and Jungkook knows he’ll always feel lacking until he finds them. It’s a crescent moon. Small and black and nestled comfortably on his skin. He knows many times the marks don’t have any correlation with the couples, but Jungkook wonders if you are an astrologist. Or an astronaut. Or just had a weird affinity for the moon. He smiles when they congratulate him and can’t stop himself from thinking that he might be in love with you already. Wherever you are. When he leaves for university, he feels less lonely when there is a crescent moon to accompany him. 

Contrary to the beliefs of his 13-year old self, Jungkook does fall in love again. Hard. This time, it was a girl with brown hair and big eyes and a smile so pretty he could see it from across a crowded room. She was a grade below him; a frazzled college freshman with no clue to where her lecture hall was, and he: a sophomore who had a compulsion of changing his major every other month. When he met her, it had been chemical engineering and three weeks before that was film composition. Her name was Yoojung, 18 years old while he was 19.

 Her soulmate mark is a single star, and even though he knows she is not his soulmate, he can’t help but to think how perfectly their marks complement each other. How they would make a perfect night sky. 

They had met at a frat party, no less, and the combination of cheap booze and bad hiphop music had made her look so incredibly gorgeous under the dim lighting. They had their first kiss in a random person’s living room, highly intoxicated and much too irresponsible and Jungkook had barely even remembered it in the morning until she showed up at his doorstep and invited herself in. Yet it wasn’t too long before he made a perfect space for Yoojung in his life.

 Each day after his physics lecture, he’d go to her dorm and they’d chat over breakfast until she had economics at 10 o’ clock. After she was done, he’d insist that they go get a greasy hamburger at the joint his friends took him to when they got high and, she’d end up dragging them both to the health food restaurant that prided themselves on only using organic. Leave it to Jungkook to find himself a vegan girlfriend. 

Sometimes though, when he looks at Yoojung, his mind drifts to his actual soulmate and a little flower named guilt blooms in his chest. But he is so young and his other half could be anywhere in the world, so Jungkook thinks there is no harm in allowing himself to indulge in a little affection. These days, it wasn’t completely abnormal for soulmates to part ways, and when Yoojung is in his arms, Jungkook likes to think that his soulmate would understand. They would want him to be happy. In the middle of synchronizing their busy student schedules and sneaking in quick kisses through cramming for finals, he had found it unnervingly easy to fall in love with her. 

Deeply and blindly in love. 

Yoojung brought him home to her family on fall breaks and the occasional winter vacation and Jungkook had melded perfectly into their dynamic. The son I never had, her father would tell him over the dinner table while her mother constantly made sure his plate was piled high. Her little sister was visibly in love with him, and would ask Yoojung where he was every time she came home from university, yet avoiding him at all costs when he was there. 

Jungkook’s own family, however, was a different story. To put it delicately, they had liked it more when he came home by himself and left her at school. It had put a strain on their relationship sure, but at the end of the day, Jungkook loved her. A simple love. 

Every day he remembers that their marks do not match. But if this is love and he feels like he is on cloud 9 with every moment they are together, Jungkook begins to doubt if the universe’s will is truly divine and successful. Maybe Yoojung was his soulmate and it did not matter what was on their wrists. 

He loved her intensely, and she did him. She was the first thing on his mind when he woke up and manifested in his dreams when he slept at night. To Jungkook, Yoojung could do no wrong. Like some sort of divine being or angel that the heavens sent just for him, and he found himself thinking maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life beside her. 

But he would come to learn that the higher the climb...the harder the fall. 

Jungkook and Yoojung were together for the better part of 4 years before she cheated on him with a guy that she’d supposedly met a couple weeks ago. When Jungkook screams at her asking why she had been disloyal, Yoojung shows him her wrist. Her single inked star. 

“I found my soulmate, Jungkook. And I love you so much, you know I do. I didn’t know how to tell you so I…”

The rest of her words fade into white noise and all Jungkook can do is look at her and commit every detail to memory as he feels her fade farther away. Her teary and remorseful brown eyes. Her plush lips. The fan of her eyelashes and the mole on the side of her temple. He’ll never get to see her like this again. 

“I was ready to be with you, soulmate or not. I know it’s not fair but I wanted the same from you”, he whispers, falling down on the couch and burying his face in his hands. 

“Soulmates be damned, the universe was wrong. I was so hideously in love with you. How could you not at least tell me when you met him?” Jungkook feels his heart collapsing in on itself with every word of resignation. Of burgeoning acceptance. Yoojung can only mirror his desolate expression and stares down at the star on her skin.

 Jungkook wishes it were a moon. 

“Just go, Yoojung.” 

It would have hurt less if it was only a one night stand with a stranger she did not know the name of. He was in love and spineless enough to move past a one night stand. However, Yoojung had found her soulmate and fallen in love with him. Jungkook had merely acted as a placeholder for the real deal to come along and sweep her off her feet. 

This time he doesn’t cry. Just stares out the window of his living room and wonders what it would be like to disappear altogether. When the door is slammed shut, and he is left to nurse his aching soul, Jungkook apologizes in advance to the person that shares the same mark on their wrist as him. He no longer believes that soulmates exist. 

When Jungkook looks back at his 13 year old self with the innocent construct of what heartbreak feels like, he wants to laugh and maybe slap that stupid boy upside the head. Yoojung had destroyed him. Destroyed the innocent and starry-eyed person that he’s tried so hard to preserve. Destroyed his vulnerability and bright outlook on life and in their place, cultivated walls of rock and steel meant to keep everyone out and him safely tucked inside. In her wake, Yoojung left behind a shell of a man who pushed his emotions so deep he became numb and forgot what it was like to feel. 

So Jungkook does what he always does to push away the hurt. He changes his major; to art history this time. He stacks up bracelets on his wrist to forget the mark of a moon. He scrapes up his rainy day money and treats himself to the most expensive pair of Saint Laurent boots he’s ever worn. He tests the limits of the human liver, and takes advantage of the biceps and jawline he’s acquired since high school to establish a reputation. 

To his friends, Jungkook remained raucous and always down to order infinite rounds of shots until he couldn’t see straight. To those that looked even closer, Jungkook was so completely shattered he didn’t even feel it anymore. 

The second time he had his heart broken, Jungkook was 23. He promised himself he wouldn’t let it happen again. 

◐

“For the last time, Jimin, I’m not going to give you a blowjob so you can pay for my student loans.”

You don’t know how many times you’ve had this conversation with your roommate. Most of the time, it was convenient to have a roommate whose parents were loaded and sent him monthly installments that looked more like small loans than allowances. You knew he just wanted to help. Heck, he probably would be willing to pay them off for you without the promiscuous favor, but you had made it clear to Jimin that you wouldn’t be riding off of his charity. 

“Ugh, Y/N you’re really no fun”, he sighs, falling backwards onto your twin-sized bed and feigning devastation. You reward his melodrama with a giggle, ruffling your hands through his fried hair. Jimin had a knack for changing his hair color as quickly as his mood. 

You look at the bill that’s staring back at you from your computer screen, and it feels like it’s just reached out and punched you in the face. “Hey do you think it’s a common mistake for bank tellers to add a few too many zeroes?” 

“Y/N.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m rationalizing as a self-defense mechanism.” Sometimes it was annoying that your roommate had a degree in psychology. Then again, Jimin was making more money than you and your degree in English. 

You sigh deeply and look up at the ceiling in attempts to quell your tears of frustration. And also because it is a plea to whoever is up there controlling your destiny: please I’m begging you. Melt my debt away. 

You and Jimin sit in comfortable silence and he plays with the hem of your worn comforter while you scroll through the emails you have been ignoring in your inbox. You want to smash your head in at all the deadlines. Times like these, there is one thing that brings you comfort and always has since you turned 18. 

The quaint little crescent moon that sits right atop your radius. 

You had a habit of pressing your thumb against it and feeling your pulse against the mark, stupidly wondering if your soulmate’s heartbeat has synched up with your own. If he was out there somewhere, touching his mark and wondering the same about you. He was taking his sweet time, that’s for sure. Jimin sees your nervous tic and sighs again.

“You’re so hopelessly romantic it makes me want to barf, Y/N.” You scowl at his words and chuck a pillow at his unsuspecting face. 

“I don’t understand you, Jimin. Your soulmate is out there and you’re not the slightest bit curious? You don’t want to do anything extra to find them?” Jimin looks at you with a knowing smile.

“That’s exactly it, though. I know they’re my soulmate and I’ll find them when the time is right. So why worry about it? It’s better not to force anything.” His statement is followed up with a grin and his fingers reach out to pinch your cheeks. This was the dynamic of your friendship. He is easy-going and flows like a careless river. You’ve read one too many books to not vie and daydream for the moment you lock eyes with your soulmate. 

Your mom always said that you’ll know just from a look. It’s like getting hit over the head with a ray of sun, she said. Like suddenly their eyes are the only eyes you ever want to look into again. Since then, you’ve dreamt for the day you find someone with that same moon on their wrist. For now though, you had more immediate concerns more along the lines of crippling debt. 

“What do I do, Jimin? Should I be a stripper?” He laughs and the thought makes you groan. You couldn’t even walk in heels, much less try to dance or look like you didn’t have two left feet. Stripper life just wasn’t for you. 

“Hm...I could call in a few favors for you at the office. Get you an internship or secretary position.” 

“Maybe. Too much nepotism. Your father owns the office you work at”, you remind him, and his eyebrows crease further in thought. God, maybe you do have to be a stripper.

“Wait!” Jimin yelps so suddenly you almost fling the computer off your lap. 

“I think I know someone. He’s been looking for a model for his art portfolio or something, and he said he’s willing to pay.” Jimin reaches for his phone and his thumbs type up a storm while you watch from the sideline. 

“I think he mentioned it’s about a month-long project. You’d just have to be on call whenever a stroke of genius arrives.” 

“That sounds great! I’m an amazing model!” you crow, to which Jimin giggles again.

“The several candids I have in my camera roll tell a different story, Y/N.” Naturally, he receives another pillow to the face. But you follow up with a cheery kiss to his cheek as you rejoice in the new opportunity for cash flow by a celebratory dance, which looks more like a wiggle when you remain seated on your bed. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, you chirped, “I owe you one.”

“Hey...I know how you can repay me.”

 When you look towards him, his eyebrows are raised inquisitively and there’s a devilish smirk on his lips.

Jimin gets a third pillow to his face that day. 

◓

Jungkook’s favorite type of arguments to get into is whether Neo-classicism or post-impressionism had the most impact on European art and architecture. Call him a snob, but he loves to prattle on about Degas and Caillebotte until his opponent tires or concedes out of pure exhaustion. Jungkook regards it as a battle strategy: bore your enemy so that they stop fighting. 

He’s in the middle of a heated debate with his classmate from graduate school when he receives a phone call from Park Jimin. Now, Jungkook has no idea how or when Jimin became an installment in his life, or how he’s roped his way into his inner circle. He just remembers waking up one day with a killer hangover and finding that there was a pink-haired stranger lying on his floor. When he tried to shoo him out, the stranger shoved a wad of money in his shirt pocket, muttering “just five more minutes”, and Jungkook was in no position to deny easy cash. Jungkook now considers Jimin one of his close friends. 

“What’s up, Jiminie?” He laughs into the microphone. 

“I told you not to call me that, you brat. I’m older than you.” 

“I’m taller than you.”

“My dick is bigger.”

“I-okay fine you got me there.” He hears Jimin wheeze over the line as he tries to rein himself in to say what he needs to say. 

“In all seriousness, though. I have a proposition for you.” Jimin lilts in a mischievous tone, which makes Jungkook nervous enough to get up from the café table he had been sitting at with his friend and careen to a quieter corner. 

“Shoot.”

“Okay, so you know how you were telling me about your portfolio for the gallery. The one you have to submit by the end of the season? How you needed a model on call 24/7 in case inspiration struck?” 

Jungkook wants him to spit it out because he has been searching high mountains and low valleys for someone that would be willing to be his muse for a month or two. Constantly at his beck and call so he can finish this damn portfolio and get his name out there in the art world. Maybe start debating post-impressionism with the cream of the crop. 

“I think I’ve found someone to do that for you.” Jungkook exhales in relief at his words.

“She’s my roommate and she’s super low on cash and unemployed with a bachelor’s in English literature, so she’s got time to spare.” Perfect. That way, Jungkook can call her whenever he needs to.

“That’s amazing, Jiminie. Can she meet me at the art building tomorrow at noon? We can start right away.” Jungkook breathes through the phone, a small weight coming off his shoulders now that another thing had been accomplished. One less thing he had to worry about on the journey to his goal. Jimin confirms the plans and they exchange pleasantries before Jungkook hangs up as the man on the other line starts screaming about his burning lunch on the stove. 

Jungkook catches sight of the mark on his wrist when he looks down, and quickly rearranges his bracelets so that it is once again covered to his eyes. Out of sight and out of mind. 

The gallery portfolio had been a thorn in his side. It had been months in the making and if he allows himself to reminisce, Jungkook remembers the nights he and Yoojung stayed up until dawn and talked about his blossoming interest in art. How he wanted a space of his own to display his works. Back then, she listened to him with stars in her eyes and basked in the afterglow of post-coital cuddling, promising that she would help him achieve it. 

His heart sinks at the memory of the imprint of her tresses of hair spilling on his bedspread. He burned those sheets the second she left. 

Jungkook represses his intrusive thoughts about Yoojung and wills her to get out of his head. He forces it down until it feels like he’s just dumped ice water over his heart and vomited out any semblance of emotion. He makes his way back to the cafe table with a sly smile that hides the internal ache he’s promised himself to never let anyone suspect of. 

“So what were you saying about Renoir’s Moulin de la Galette?”

◑

The art building is situated besides a library, with a bakery flanking its left. Two years spent at the university, and you’ve never once stepped foot there. Maybe it was the daunting abstract sculpture on the front lawn or the prejudices you held against annoying art snobs on their high horses, but you often found yourself subconsciously avoiding the space in intimidation. 

“Okay, Y/N, you’re going to do this so you can pay off your loans”, you whisper under your breath, words meant for your ears and no one else’s. “And if he asks you to pose nude, you run the opposite direction.” 

It was easy to get lost in the building. For art students that know how to draw, they really took advantage of abstractionism to make the most confusing map you had ever seen in your life. Luckily, with some direction from the vapid front desk secretary and some intuition, you were able to to find room 62B. You don’t think you’ll be able to forget the number 62B if you tried, Jimin had screamed it to you so many times as you left the apartment. 

The door soundlessly opens with a nudge of your hand and you stick your head inside.

“You know when Jimin told me he found me a model, he didn’t mention her lack of punctuality.” His voice is calm and subdued with no lingering annoyance, even if his words are uncourteous. You whip around to him and the first sight you see of Jeon Jungkook is merely a tuft of brown hair behind a vast canvas. And some expensive looking leather boots that anchor his feet to the ground. 

You clear your throat and approach with an outstretched hand and the shiniest smile you can muster. 

“I’m Y/N. Jimin’s roommate. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You can call me Jungkook.”

It is when he steps out from behind the canvas that you finally understand what your mother meant when she said meeting your soulmate feels like getting hit over the head with a ray of sunshine. You can’t describe it any other way, but that’s exactly what it feels like. Like the air becomes so sweet in your lungs it turns to viscous honey. Like suddenly the person standing in front of you is Valentine, encapsulated. 

You know he feels it too, yet you don’t know why he forces himself to remain blasé, and if you hadn’t seen his widened eyes and heard the gasp from his lips you would have never suspected anything at all. Stranger courtesy is abandoned and you forcefully grab his wrist, turning it over to find his mark while pulling up your sleeve to reveal your own. 

A little black crescent moon.

Right on the pulse point.

Just like your’s. 

When you finally muster up the nerve to look into his eyes again, you wonder if it is healthy for the human heart to beat so fast and so thunderously it feels ready to jump out of your chest. Jungkook, however, still wears that same expression on his face. Flat and cold, not even a glimmer in his eyes. He stares at you disinterested and wrenches his wrist from your grasp. 

“Wait, Jungkook...aren’t you….”, you sputter through a desperate smile, “aren’t you happy?” He stays silent and trains his attention on the canvas in front of him, but you can see the conflict that swirls in his iris. 

“I’ve been looking for you for so long! And I’ve finally found you. In the art building no less, just my luck that-”

“Y/N, I don’t know what you expect from me but I’m not looking for anything right now.” 

There were no objectively ugly words. But you think the ones that have just spewed from Jungkook’s lips come pretty close. They stoke a fire in your chest.

“What do you mean? We’re soulmates”, you faltered, sinking deeper into confusion as you stare at the unaffected man in front of you, whose only concern is the conglomerate of paint on his palette. 

Jungkook sighs monotonously. Almost as if he had better things to do than be here.

“It’s only a mark on your wrist. And we just happen to have the same one. Amazing that you still think somehow one single person was made entirely just for you.” His words are bored and he doesn’t even have the decency to look you in the eye when he speaks. You think you might want to punch him if you weren’t so speechless.

“Look”, he sighs as if you were inconveniencing him, “I’m not going to sugarcoat it and tell you that I’m the one you’ve been looking for this whole time. We have the same mark, but...I’m not the guy you want.”

“B-But...I’m your soulmate. We-we’re made for each other.”

Jungkook scoffs harshly, and you want to sink into the ground. “That’s just a silly myth.” 

“So you don’t...believe in soulmates?” The words felt wrong to say when all your life, finding your soulmate felt like the ribbon at the end of the finish line. But here he was now, and you felt so small under his gaze. Like you weren’t meant to be there and standing in the same room with him was a concoction for heartbreak.

“No.”

Jungkook’s syllable pangs in your ear, and you think it might be your least favorite sound. Then you leave. And if it was hard for you to meet your soulmate - the person who you’re destined to be with - who doesn’t believe in you, then walking away from him was a different cross to bear. 

You take the bus home and ignore the glare of strangers when you burst into tears at a red light, and cry the rest of the way back. Your mother hadn’t described this. She prosed on and on about the feeling one gets after finding a soulmate but never mentioned to you how it feels when you find out they want nothing to do with you. What do you do when you realize the person you’ve been chasing for forever has been trying to run away at the same time? 

Jimin holds you together that night on your bedroom floor, while you break apart and scratch at the moon on your wrist until your skin breaks. He listens to the words you sputter; as much as he can decipher when they are drowned out by the painful sound of your sobbing. Jungkook’s beliefs bleed into your consciousness. Perhaps he is right and perhaps there is no such thing as true soulmates, and the marks are obsolete. 

However, when you fall asleep in your friend’s arms from the physical fatigue of violent crying and the sheer mental exhaustion of meeting Jeon Jungkook, your mind comes to a more painful conclusion. 

A more truthful conclusion.

Your soulmate only needed to meet you to decide that he did not want you.

◒

Jungkook doesn’t believe in soulmates. He thinks they’re a stupid coy to give people false hope. An illusion to feign happiness and to take Yoojung away from someone she genuinely loved. Though in the hours of the night, when he is by himself and the bed feels too big for one body, Jungkook wonders if there is truly a reason why someone has an identical moon on their wrist. But he is still so broken and unhealed from the wounds Yoojung left behind.

 So instead of soulmates, he thinks about what she must be doing. If she’s eating well. If she’s moved in with her own soulmate and if they’re happy together. Jungkook is an involuntary masochist and he pays for it with every pillowcase that becomes stained with his tears. 

He sighs out an expletive after downing a shot of whiskey, relishing in the familiar burn as it slides down his throat. Alcohol doesn’t seem to be working efficiently, though. He’s only barely tipsy after years in college building tolerance, and he can still see your face each time he blinks. Like you are imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Jungkook wonders why Jimin had cancelled on the group tonight. 

There is a little devil called remorse and it stands atop his shoulder, unseen by everyone but him, and Jungkook decides he will get rid of it by calling another round of shots. From his seat in the dirty booth, he can see Min Yoongi and his soulmate practically dry humping on the dance floor. If anyone asks him if he ever gets jealous seeing soulmates happy and in love, he’ll laugh in their face and tell them he pities people like that. People that are so blinded by the system. But loneliness is a stern mistress and it makes him think of you. How lovely the moon looks on your wrist. How your hand felt so warm when it caressed against his skin. 

He tips his head back again. Vodka this time.

“Dude, are you okay?” 

To his right comes Kim Taehyung, designated driver extraordinaire, and he looks at Jungkook with friendly concern laced with amusement. Jungkook nods contentedly. 

“Soulmates are so bullshit, Tae”, he snickers, fingers tracing the rim of the shot glass and smirk on his face to mask the bitterness of both the alcohol and his heart. Taehyung spares a knowing glance, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder with the weight of knowledge of Jungkook’s past. 

The night is young and so is he. He drinks until he can no longer taste the liquor and forgets altogether about what had happened only a couple of hours before. Until the crescent mark on his skin just looks like a shapeless black blob, and it makes him smile. He thinks he likes it better that way. 

Taehyung drops him home and personally tucks him into bed while he is still in jeans and his shirt smells like the bar. His sleep is dreamless that night. When the morning comes and his friends tease him about how he begged Taehyung not to leave, Jungkook will laugh and blame the alcohol for his foggy memory. He won’t tell them that he does remember, and that he was only grasping at any warm body to soothe his aching loneliness.

◐

Usually when he first opens his eyes in the morning, Jungkook is thinking about the next class he has to attend and if he is late (which is usually most of the time). This morning, albeit morbidly hungover, Jungkook thinks of the apple strudels they sell at the bakery next to the art building. Mrs. Kim always gets the pastry to filling ratio just right. But when he opens the door with a jubilant smile on his face and the scent of baked goods already in his nostrils, Jungkook has a feeling apple strudels will have to wait. 

There you are. In all your messy-haired glory, huffing like a caged bull in the doorway of his apartment, fiery gaze directed completely at him and all he can think to say is:

“How do you know where I live?” Jungkook schools his face expressionless in your presence. He hopes this will discourage you, but it only makes you angrier. 

“Park Jimin”, you snarl. 

Of fucking course, it’s always Park Jimin. Jimin who drunkenly sleeps in his bedroom and now Jimin who is leaking his address to any stranger.

“Um”, Jungkook stammers and takes a step back, “what are you doing here? Didn’t I get my point through yesterday?” He can see the statement catching you off guard, and the fury in your eyes dwindles to dejection. Only for a millisecond though, before you are aiming your wrath at him once again. 

You take a deep breath. “What is wrong with you?” 

Jungkook can think of a lot of answers to that query. He opts to interpret it as a rhetorical question and keep his mouth shut. 

“You just...found your soulmate! I’m your soulmate! And you don’t even want to get to know me? At all?”, you scream exasperatedly. Jungkook catches the gaze of a middle aged lady who is not-so-discreetly staring at the two of you, and pulls you inside his apartment by your arm. If you weren’t so frustrated, you would have been flustered at the physical contact. 

“Listen. Soulmates don’t end up together all the time. I’ve told you I’m not really interested in anything right now and it’s not a priority”, he takes a breath through his passionate monologue, “and I’m sorry that that’s not something you expected, but I….don’t want a soulmate.”

Maybe...he just doesn’t want you. 

When he says them out loud to a living breathing person, Jungkook realizes how cruel it sounds. He can see it in the way your eyes have become glossy under his living room lights and the way you shrink into yourself as self-defense against his blows. He rationalizes that he’d rather tell you the truth than lie to you now, only to hurt you later. Really, he’s doing you a kindness. Right?

You turn your back to him to gather your thoughts, and wipe the tears that you refuse to let him see. The salty drops sting the raw skin of your wrist after last night, and you are brutally reminded of the current reality. His brutal honesty makes you want to abandon all hope, but you were a woman with a plan. You came here for a reason, not to just lose your temper in your soulmate’s apartment and tell him what you really thought about him.

“I have a proposition for you”, you asserted calmly, staring Jungkook in the eye as he remains unbothered. 

“Now I reckon something’s happened to you to make you lose all your faith in soulmates, so I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Your eyebrows furrow when you speak focusedly.

“We don’t have to be together. That’s your will. But…”, you hesitate, pushing past the uncertainty and fear of another rejection from Jungkook, “will you let me at least try? You don’t have to promise anything. Can we just start as friends?” 

Naturally, Jungkook wants to shoot down your offer, kick you out of his apartment, and pretend like he never met anyone by the name of Y/N. Call it divine intervention but when he looks at you, pleading for any semblance of connection, he feels a tug at his heart strings. So Jungkook makes another promise to himself. He would let you “try”, whatever that entails. But there was no virtual possibility of letting you any closer than necessary. 

You both stand in contemplative silence before he lets out a resigned sigh. “On one condition”, he responds slowly, but there is already a premature grin growing on your face and you don’t think you could stop it even if you tried.

“You still have to be my model for the art portfolio.”

You agree before he even gets to take another breath. 

“Deal.” 

When you finally make your way out of Jungkook’s apartment, parting ways with an awkward number exchange and a ‘see you later’, there is a simultaneous feeling of hope and desolation. The optimism for Jungkook combines with the insecurity that perhaps you, just as you are, is not nearly enough to make someone fall in love. Especially someone who disregards their soul connection to you. 

You walk back to your apartment with a heavy heart that warms with embers of determination. Jeon Jungkook was an enigma. A Bastille fortress of self-defense mechanisms and destructive tendencies, and you know that there is unresolved pain. Call it a soulmate instinct or something, but you see it in his eyes. You see it in the way his face begs to show emotion but his mind refuses to acknowledge. 

You know Jungkook is not obligated to accept you after the dust settles, much less fall in love with you. Under the peach blossoms of the campus sidewalk, you make a promise anyway.  To yourself and to your soulmate and the silly little mark on the inside of your wrist. Even if he does not love you, you vow to help Jungkook learn to love himself.

◓

When you are harshly woken up at 5:30 in the morning, the last person you expected to be blowing up your phone was Jeon Jungkook. If it weren’t for the pure exhaustion seeping through your bones, you would have been excited about your soulmate calling you. Alas, slumber was your soulmate now. Jungkook would have to step down. 

On the other side of the paper thin wall, Jimin is frustratedly banging from his room, your ringtone reverberating throughout the entire apartment. You pick up his call without even opening your eyes.

“Hello?” 

“Y/N I need you to come to my apartment as soon as you can.” There is no sleepiness in his voice. Just clean and cold like it always is and he has hung up before you get the chance to scold him for waking you up at this unholy hour. You’re about to give him a piece of your mind but you remember he is paying you very handsomely for your efforts, and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed to call an uber. Thank god he doesn’t live too far away otherwise you’ll stick a foot through his canvas for the transportation bill. 

The front of Jungkook’s apartment door is strangely therapeutic, and you find yourself falling asleep standing up after you’ve rung the doorbell. Either time passes too slowly when you are sleep-drunk or Jungkook moves to get the door as quickly as your grandfather does. Whatever the case, you are about to pass out on his doorstep if he doesn’t come soon.

“Y/N, why are you just standing there? The door has been open.” 

“Jungkook. Why are you making me do this so early?”, you yawn, pushing inside the apartment. 

Jungkook takes in your discombobulated appearance, and almost wants to laugh. You were still in your pajamas, and the bun on your head now looked more like a heaping blob that drooped down your temple. It was obvious that you had just rolled out of bed and he almost feels bad for disturbing your sleep, but he does not decide when his strokes of inspiration spontaneously appear. 

The living room is bombarded with Jungkook’s art supplies and stray canvases, and you take note of the clay sculpting table that blends in as furniture next to his kitchen. You plop yourself down on the stool across from Jungkook’s easel, eyes still half closed and impossibly tired.

 In this moment, Jungkook wipes the fact that you are his soulmate from his mind. He needs to do the portfolio. That is all he’s keeping you around for, and the only reason he agreed to your plan was so that you would remain his art model. 

In the silence of his makeshift art studio, Jungkook paints whatever comes to his mind, referencing your figure on the stool for the curves he can never get right without a model and need for a human presence to translate onto his canvas. You become more lucid as time goes by and the sun starts to rise from outside his window, sitting up straighter and paying more attention to his concentrated face as Jungkook pours himself into his creation. 

Looking at him in this light, you realize that he is beautiful. And not just because he’s your soulmate. Jungkook’s hair is scruffy and stubbled, undereyes sporting impressive dark circles. But the way he caresses the paintbrush and the way his body moves to the beat of the painting is poetic. He glances at you sporadically, eyes darting to and fro to capture as much as he can before the creativity burns out. He is beautiful and it makes your heart ache to know that he does not want you. In spite of the bond the universe has created. 

You wonder if in his focused hazed, he notices the new glaze across your eyes and the silent sound of your soul calling out for his. You wipe away the first dripping tear as quickly as it came. You know Jungkook sees, but does not bat an eye and you can’t tell if you’d rather prefer him to acknowledge it. 

It’s 8:00am when he puts the paintbrush down, takes a step back, and surveys his work. His eyes trail over each organic line and areas where he decided to use burnishing instead of cross hatching. It’s far from perfect, but it’s enough. 

“Okay. You’re free to go”, he announces, plucking the painting off the easel and resting it against the wall, hidden from your eyes. 

“W-What? That’s it?”, you sigh disappointedly, “you’re not even going to let me see it?” Jungkook shrugs. His detachedness makes you want to rip your hair out and sob into your pillow at the same time. You don’t understand how a person could be so unfazed. 

“S’not ready for debut. Thanks for showing up, though.” He doesn’t spare you another glance. Just goes back to cleaning his brushes and dumping out the glasses of murky paint water. You ignore the twinge of hurt in your chest and slide off the stool. 

“Okay, fine. Now it’s my turn. Would you like to go have some breakfast?”, you smile expectantly to Jungkook, who stares at you with an indifferent gaze. His first instinct is to make up a half-assed excuse to get out of this, eager to detach himself from you as much as possible and avoid any more interaction. However, he was insanely hungry, and the glimmer in your eye just looks so hopeful even Jungkook couldn’t bear to shoot you down.

He sighs with resignation. A little breakfast couldn’t hurt, and he wasn’t going with you necessarily. You were just...going to the same cafe in the same direction as him and likely sitting at the same table. Yeah, that’s it. 

“Hurry up, I’m hungry.” 

“Wait...actually?”

You blinked in shock at his lack of resistance. 

“Yes. Now come on. I know a place with really great apple strudels.”

You weren’t aware that by ‘breakfast’, Jungkook actually meant sitting in complete silence and wolfing down food like your life depends on it. You want to be grossed out when he inhales 3 apple strudels in less than 10 minutes, crumbs flaking on his shirt without a care in the world. Yet you just feel endeared. The sight makes you smile. And maybe if Jungkook did not detest you, you would have leaned over and kissed the cinnamon sugar right off his lips. 

“So….”, you sip on a sweet coffee, “Jimin told me you’re going for a masters in art history?” 

Jungkook nods halfway through a bite of his pastry. “Yup.” 

“Is it something you’re really passionate about?” you inquire, desperately wanting the conversation to delve into something that wasn’t so surface level.

“Uh huh.”

“What are some other things you’re interested in besides art?”

“Totally.” 

Jungkook is completely clueless. He only spares glances to the windows and occasional looks to his oh so precious breakfast treats. You want to slap him and be angry, but you only sigh. It shouldn’t be so hard to talk to your soulmate, yet it felt like trying to pull teeth when he was so completely disinterested in you. You wonder if this is worth it.

You look up at him from your steaming cappuccino cup and use your wildcard. 

“In my opinion, Botticelli’s Birth of Venus did little for the Italian Renaissance movement.” 

Your statement almost has Jungkook falling backwards in his chair and choking on a piece of fruit filling, eyes growing as wide as saucers when he finally processes what you just said. A flaming insult to the entire art historian community. 

“What do you know about Botticelli?”, he sneers, and you internally celebrate for this is the most emotion Jungkook has shown since meeting you. 

“I know that his work supposedly epitomizes the spirit of the Renaissance”, you swirl the coffee in your cup nonchalantly, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “But if you ask me, Bellini’s San Giobbe Altarpiece did much more to encapsulate the values of 15th century Italy.” 

Jungkook’s speechless expression is one that you want to take a snapshot of and frame it to your wall. It is glorious, and arguably more artful to you than Botticelli himself. So what, you had conveniently forgot to mention to him about the class you took junior year of college, with a professor that made you engrave the fundamentals of Italian painting in your brain. It’s so much more gratifying to see him stunned silent. 

Across the table from you, Jungkook feels a warm smile itching to display itself. Before it can appear, he disguises it as a cold smirk. He feels something akin to a butterfly at the pit of his stomach, but blames it on indigestion and the inhuman pace at which he devoured his breakfast. Yeah that must be it. There was no way he was feeling butterflies. 

He cracks his knuckles, raises his cup to gulp down a lukewarm green tea, and rests his elbows on the table separating the both of you.

“I don’t suppose you could tell me your thoughts on the influences of neo-classicism in the 18th century?” 

◑

“No, Y/N, turn to your left a little”, Jungkook frustratedly sighs behind the camera lens.

“Your left or my left?”

He pauses. “....left.” 

To any outside eye, you and Jungkook look like two buffoons trying to take pictures on what might possibly be the windiest day of the season, under the peach blossom trees. Jungkook had called you earlier that day and stressed about how he needed mixed media in his beloved portfolio, and photographs were the next topic of interest. Though you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just set out a fruit bowl on his windowsill and call it still life photography.

Jungkook stares down at his camera, dissatisfaction clear on his face. You almost want to apologize for your abhorrent modeling skills but hey, he was the one that chose you. 

“Hmm...try staring at that boat in the distance”, he dictates, standing beside you and aiming the lens at your side profile. You do as he asks, but don’t hear the shutter of the camera. Jungkook sighs again and leans forward, so close you could feel his warm breath hitting your skin. You hope he doesn’t notice the beet blush on your cheeks.

Jungkook’s hands meet your chin when he uses it to slightly tilt your face downwards. He positions you in the way that he wants you to pose and you finally understand why photography is considered an art. Because it’s almost as if Jungkook is molding you like clay, to get the silhouette he wants to capture with his camera lens. The day is brisk, but his skin on your’s lights you on fire. 

“Okay, that’s…..that’s perfect”, Jungkook breathes, hurriedly picking up the camera that had been hanging onto his neck by the strap and angling it. At the moment his index finger presses down on the button, there is a gust of wind that surrounds the both of you.

The breeze loosens a strand of your hair and it falls into your eyes. You let your eyes drift close for a second, smiling into the cold air that tingles on your skin. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat and he thanks the skies for the howling wind so you wouldn’t be able to hear his thumping heartbeat. But surely it’s only because it’s cold. And absolutely nothing else. Jungkook coughs inconspicuously to snap himself out of his trance, sighing in relief when he realizes your eyes are still closed and that you hadn’t noticed his internal struggle. 

He drags you to a bridge next and makes you lay on the cold wood to which you vehemently object before you remember that he’s paying you and that you want him to fall in love with you, not dislike you more than he already does. After the bridge, Jungkook makes you kneel beside the park pond and dip your hand in the icy water and you find yourself wanting to do the same thing to his precious camera. 

Before the two of you have realized, the sun sets into the horizon and tinges the sky in a combination of purples and pinks that Jungkook himself has a hard time replicating on canvas. He aims his lens at the clouds and takes a picture that he knows won’t make it into his gallery. He just felt the need to have something to remember this day by. For no reason in particular…

A buzzing coming from your coat pocket alerts you both of the time that has passed and how the sky has considerably darkened since you began the session. When you fish your phone out, Jimin’s contact photo is staring back at you while the marimba ringtone continues playing. You put the phone on speaker.

“Hey Jiminie”, you smile and Jungkook catches a glance of it. And the discomfort in his chest is definitely, 100%, not jealousy. Not at all.

“I told you not to call me that! What is with you younger people and your disrespect for the elderly?” The corner of Jungkook’s lips twitch into a subtle smile at the similarity of your’s and his conversations with Jimin. 

“Okay, okay, grandpa. What’s up?”

“Can you come home ASAP? I may or may not have broken the stove trying to make soup.” 

The redundancy of his confession makes you sigh, as Park Jimin desecrating your shared kitchen space was not a rare occurrence by any means. 

“I’ll be right there”, you chided through the line, “please do not cook anything else before I arrive.” 

“Thanks Y/N-ie, you’re the best!” Jimin’s voice is far too cheery and you make a mental note to nag him a little extra when you get home. The phone call is ended promptly and you turn around to Jungkook, eyes widening in surprise when he has already packed up all his photography gear. The sky had turned dark and the streetlights had been turned on to illuminate the park. If you had craned your neck upwards, you would have noticed the stars that awoke again to shine down upon the city. But you didn’t. You only saw the stars that were twinkling in Jungkook’s eyes. 

“Uh”, he stammers, “I’ll walk you home. It’s late.” 

“Oh! Uh...Thanks.” Though he was still cold and indifferent, your heart jumped in elation. Perhaps this could be considered baby steps. 

The trip home is quiet, only the sounds of your tandem footsteps on pavement and the rustle of a breeze through tree leaves fill the space of silence. But the quiet is not uncomfortable. Just a bit awkward as you two try to figure out how to be around one another. Jungkook’s hands are shoved in his pockets and your fingers itch to intertwine themselves around his own. To press your soulmate marks together and feel them calling out to each other. But you and Jungkook are anything but normal soulmates. For you are already head over heels in love with him and he is adamant on not sparing you a crumb of affection. 

To your disdain, the apartment was closer than you thought and the short walk with Jungkook ended before it really even began. You could practically hear Jimin’s impatience emanating from the third story of the building. 

“So I’ll see you later?”, you smile meekly. Jungkook readjusts the strap of his camera bag before nodding. He is walking away before you turn around to enter the apartment building and even though it was something small and mundane, you wished he would have waited to see you get in safely. You make your way inside, more downcast than you had been before.

You don’t see when Jungkook turns around. You don’t feel the reassurance that washes over him when the door shuts safely behind you. 

That night, Jungkook is reminded far too much of Yoojung. When he goes to make his usual chamomile, he finds her mug at the very back of the tea cabinet. She must have forgotten it when she packed up her stuff. When he spoons in the sugar, he remembers how Yoojung drinks her tea with honey instead. And when he feels himself start to fall apart, he remembers how Yoojung is not there to keep him together. 

Jungkook pushes away his pain, abandons the lukewarm mug of tea, and opts for an early bedtime to sleep away the ache. The camera sitting on his nightstand, though, beckons him to look over the photos you both had taken that afternoon. 

In the moment, he had been dissatisfied with the pictures, always thinking there must be a better angle or a better position you could shift into. However when he looks down at his camera now, in the quiet and solemnity of his bedroom, Jungkook can’t help but to think they are absolutely perfect. 

He doesn’t know whether to credit his own artistic skill or you; for breathing life into his photographs. It’s the lines of your hands, the slope of your nose, and the stray strands of your hair that makes his pictures more human. 

The ones he ends up picking though, are not perfectly  staged and not the ones where he made you change the position of your stance for 10 minutes. No, the best pictures were the ones he took without you noticing. When you had just been enjoying the cool breeze or admiring the beauty of peach blossom season. When you point out a cool looking bird and when you stared annoyedly past the cameras lens (at him no doubt). 

Yoojung is gone from his mind for just a tiny fleeting moment. For little reason at all, Jungkook finds himself smiling. And there is only the company of the moon to see it. 

◒

 It is ten o’ clock in the morning and Jungkook comes to a realization that in the couple weeks since he has met you, he has sighed more times than he has in the past 23 years of life. Jungkook sighs when you text him first thing in the morning about the dream you had the night before and describe it in painfully vivid details. He leaves them unanswered. Sometimes he wished you would just email him the google document instead. He sighs when you fidget in your seat when he’s trying to paint and keep focus, but you are only interested in asking him the snacks he has in his fridge or when he’s going to finish. He sighs when you and Jimin collectively trash his art studio by spamming his $1,000 camera with ugly face pictures and sword fighting with his sable paint brushes. Jungkook often has a hard time believing that both of you are in graduate school. 

Today, he sighs when you bombard into room 62B of the art building; what is supposed to be Jungkook’s completely zen and peaceful creative space. You are tiptoeing around him as you always do, scared that you’ll do something to set him off and your soulmate will disown you for good. He glances at you once, eyes quickly darting back to the sculpture he is molding on the clay table and saying nothing. 

“There’s a new cafe that just opened right across from the apple strudel place”, you gulp tensely. “I was gonna go check out the competition.” Your words seem deaf to Jungkook’s ear and he only furrows his eyebrows, fingers fussing over the mass of clay. There was just something he couldn’t get right. He didn’t know what it was. 

Jungkook pushes away the sculpture frustratedly, wipes his hands on his apron, and finally looks at you. Maybe he did need a break and come back to it with fresh eyes. That’s all it was, though. A break. He wasn’t going because you asked him to. 

“They better have blonde roast otherwise you’ll be compensating me for my time.” Jungkook is as ruthless and blunt as ever and you decide to look past it as you always do. Him agreeing to go with you was a mini success. 

“Welcome in! You’ve stopped by at the perfect time. The strawberry scones have just been taken out of the oven!” The cafe employee is far too enthusiastic for receiving minimum wage and greeting grumpy people off the streets who just want to be caffeinated. His name tag reads Jung Hoseok. 

“Oh, strawberry is my favorite”, you whisper, the statement only meant for your ears but Jungkook picks up on it anyway. He declines to tell you that strawberry is his favorite as well. Hoseok’s eyes light up when you and Jungkook approach the entrance, like he finally succeeded at luring a customer. 

The cafe isn’t anything special. A bit more modern compared to the one across the street and you think you prefer the latter because this new one doesn’t have the owner’s handsome son standing at the cash register. He may not be your soulmate, but even you had to admit Kim Seokjin was a beautiful man if there ever was one. However, this cafe is warm and has ceiling length windows that let in an obscene amount of sunlight. Jungkook makes a mental note to try some pictures here in the future. 

Jungkook’s phone buzzes in his pocket and you are already leaving him behind in the dust, walking straight to the counter and peering up at the menu deep in thought. You turn around to see that he is immersed in mysterious conversation, and take it upon yourself to order him a drink. 

“I’ll have a matcha latte. And uh…”, you decide, trailing off as you wonder what kind of drink Jungkook would enjoy. “And an iced vanilla mocha latte, extra whipped cream, extra chocolate syrup. Do you guys have rainbow sprinkles?” 

A little sugar never hurt anyone. Especially someone so often bitter like your one and only soulmate. 

When Jungkook hangs up and makes his way to the corner table where you are situated, the sight of the concoction on the table is enough to give him an instant cavity. You hide your smile behind the mug of matcha. He grumbles and sits down swiftly, sticking the straw past his lips in defiance and you can only watch expectantly. 

“Well…do you like it?” 

This is when Jungkook realizes you didn’t order this to spite him. You just had completely zero idea what he liked and disliked and chose the first thing you thought was best. As cold as he is, he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that when he drinks coffee, he likes it black. No cream, no sugar, and the darkest roast with the most caffeine to push him through those nights spent in front of a canvas or over a clay table. 

Jungkook fights to keep steady from the ambush of sugar and wills himself to swallow it down. There is sticky chocolate syrup on his hands and it feels cosmically more uncomfortable than paint. But Jungkook manages to look up at you and nod, to which you reward with a smile. 

“I knew you would like it”, you say smugly, giving yourself a mental pat on the back. “You look like you have a giant sweet tooth.” There is a mellow giggle that follows your statement. Jungkook feels a flutter at the bottom of his stomach, and convinces himself it’s only because it sounds so much like Yoojung. He catches sight of the moon on your wrist, and pushes the feeling away even farther. 

The two of you spend the rest of the midday there, tucked away in a corner of a cafe and losing track of time as you always do. Jungkook finds himself forgetting about the mountains of work he has to do to finish his art gallery portfolio, and the unfinished sculpture back at the studio that’s just not right. 

Today, he allows himself to enjoy your presence and get to know you more. Your favorite color is yellow. You had a dog named Benny when you were a child. You detest beer with a passion, but enjoy a nightly glass of pinot grigio. Jungkook barely notices when the entire cup of coffee has disappeared. Every last rainbow sprinkle.

On second thought, he feels that maybe there was something sweeter than his unexpectedly delicious iced vanilla mocha latte with extra whipped cream. Maybe that something was sitting right across from him, rambling about the fundamentals of English literature with unexplained vigor. 

Jungkook’s soul feels lighter when he goes to bed that night. And when he finally succumbs to Morpheus, his last lucid thought is of you; sun beams coming from the large cafe windows that comb through your hair. He looks at you through his mind’s eye and all he can see is the potential heartbreak you have the power to put him through. The fan of your eyelashes. The curve of your smile. The plush of your lips. All he can see is Yoojung as she crushes his soul in her bare hands. 

Yet in the midst of his internal conflict, Jungkook’s subconscious allows him to fall in love with you a little bit. Perhaps not love just yet, but affection. Like a toe dip in uncharted waters or sticking his finger in a bowl of creamy cake batter just for a taste. The walls he has built are still there, strong as ever, but perhaps a couple bricks look a bit askew. He doesn’t know, but his soul calls out to your’s through the fortress.

◐

“Y/N I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea.”

“Oh hush, just close your eyes and point where your heart tells you to.”

In the lobby of a train station, facing a map and an ETA board is where you and Jungkook will be embarking on your next “date but not really because you don’t believe in soulmates so let’s just hang out”. It had taken a good two hours of nagging and whining on your part to convince him to abandon his portfolio for just a little bit to go an outing. Now standing here, with you excitedly bouncing next to him and a mystery destination, Jungkook feels something akin to utter regret. 

“What if I choose somewhere that’s a thousand miles away? Or just in the middle of nowhere?”, Jungkook groans, still putting up an unbothered and cold front. 

“Well then we will go somewhere that’s a thousand miles away or in the middle of nowhere”, you quipped back at him. Jungkook had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one. 

He reluctantly places a hand over his eyes, sighing with resignation before pointing to a random spot on the map. There is a giggle that sounds to his left and Jungkook finds himself wanting to hear more. 

“Wonderful choice”, you smiled, “couldn’t have picked it better myself.” 

Jungkook peeked his eyes open one at a time, scared of seeing what his intuition has chosen for your guys’ spontaneous destination. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees that his fingers landed on a town on the outskirts of the city, 20 minutes away from the university. He silently thanks the universe for not sabotaging his wallet and time. 

“We’re never doing this again, Y/N”, Jungkook speaks as you are in front of him, skipping happily to the front desk to buy two train tickets. 

“Wasn’t it fun, though? The thrill?”, you chuckle at his demeanor, to which he only shakes his head vehemently. You note the newest thing you’ve just learned about Jungkook: he has an aversion to uncertainty and spontaneity. 

The train ride was as brief as it was uneventful. You spent the time rambling to Jungkook about all the quips and quirks about yourself and he only listened. Though he kept quiet, his face was free of any annoyance or indication that you were speaking too much. Jungkook only stared at you and unknowing to you, he soaked in every bit of information like a sponge. If anyone asked, he could tell them what foods you were allergic to, what colors wash you out, and what vegetables you hated the most. 

“Wow you didn’t have to pick somewhere so far away, Jungkook.” You muse as the two of you step out of the train car. So far away in fact, that if you were to crane your head up enough, you would be able to see the university from a distance. 

“Hey, you were the one who made me choose”, Jungkook spares a rare smile, “Would you rather we have shelled out our wallets to go on an 18-hour train ride?”

“Okay, fair point.”

The city was as abundant as it was big, and the both of you walked aimlessly from avenue to avenue, stopping occasionally whenever you see a dog you just can’t help but to pet or whenever Jungkook complained about his sore feet. As cold and indifferent as Jungkook made himself out to be, you’ve quickly come to realize that he’s actually a big baby. He still hasn’t let you in or even lowered his walls by a tiny centimeter, but you like to think that even agreeing to go anywhere with you could be considered significant progress.

Jungkook doesn’t notice the pounding of his heart whenever his hands graze against your’s, walking side by side so close he can feel the heat emanating through your coat. He doesn’t notice the peace he feels, just the synchronicity of his feet as he places them on the pavement. 

The fraught wind that blows straight at Jungkook’s face prompts him to look up from where his eyes were cast on the ground. He almost staggers at how strong it is, but finds himself weak in the knees for a completely different reason.

Of course.

Of all the days, of all the times, of all the people in this entire city.

Of course she had to be the one that was currently staring at him from across the intersection. 

The red light seems to go on forever. Either that or time has just spontaneously frozen, Jungkook can’t tell. But his eyes are fixed on hers and his feet bolster him to the concrete when all he wants to do is sprint the other way and forget he ever saw this ghost from the past. 

Yoojung looks as beautiful as the day she left him. 

She’s gained some weight and her cheeks have filled out, but it looks healthy on her now (Jungkook always chided her for forgetting to eat). She stares at him with a combination of shock and guilt and something he wants to overthink into affection but he won’t give himself that satisfaction anymore. She dyed her hair. Light brown looks good on her. 

She looks...happy. As happy as anyone can look when they’re rushing through thick crowds of a city, traffic horns blaring like a dilapidated symphony. 

In the heat of it all, it’s impossible for you not to notice Jungkook’s sudden change in demeanor or the way he has suddenly stopped breathing. When you follow his gaze, there is a girl on the other side of the street that shares the same starstruck expression and even from the outside looking in, you can feel the weight of something painful in his eyes. In her stature. 

When the lights turn green, the throngs of city dwellers migrate across and you stay beside Jungkook when he doesn’t move a muscle. Not even a finger twitch. But she does. And he can only fight to keep the ache away when Yoojung gets closer with every millisecond. Until she is standing right in front of him and he can smell her familiar vanilla perfume. 

“Jungkook”, she speaks, apprehension in her voice. “It’s been a while...how are you?” 

Yoojung only spares you a side glance while keeping attention on Jungkook and you only grow more curious as to who this strange woman is. 

He wants to speak so badly but his tongue remains frozen. He turns to you with flabbergast in his eyes and shakes his head to snap out of the daze of confusion. Of seeing the love of his life again. Or who he thought was the love of his life. 

“Could you give us a minute, Y/N?” 

You didn’t know why but the words that came from his lips made you feel disappointed. Perhaps you were just stupid for thinking he would introduce you. Tell her that you’re his soulmate and scream it at the top of his lungs with sheer pride. But your imagination has hurt you countless times and you had a feeling this one wouldn’t be the last. You manage a curt nod and push away the twinge in your heart. There was a boundary between you and Jungkook and today was not the day to cross it and introduce yourself as his soulmate to any random stranger. 

Once you are out of vicinity and have found solace in a bookstore 10 feet away, Jungkook allows himself to breathe in Yoojung’s presence. 

“I didn’t know if you were still in the city”, he falters, voice coming out quieter than he would have liked it to. But what was he supposed to sound like confronting the supposed love of his life. 

“I never left, Jungkook...my entire life is here.” She sighs, smiling lightly with eyes seeping with guilt. 

He scoffs. “I don’t know Yoojung, you seem to leave behind important things pretty easily.” Jungkook feels himself getting angrier and resentful by the second, and though he knows it is unfair of him, Yoojung’s mere presence brings back all the wounds he never truly healed from. 

Granted, on a concrete sidewalk next to a traffic light pole was not the best place to have a heart to heart about failed relationships. But when has the universe ever given Jungkook the best things in life. He is devastatingly cynical for someone who dedicates his career to art. 

Yoojung wears a frown on her face, but there is no vindictiveness there. Just an overwhelming sense of remorse that Jungkook communicates as pity. 

“I don’t know how else to say that I’m sorry”, she sighs, eyes falling to the ground. Jungkook wishes it would just open up and swallow him whole. 

“Then don’t say anything.” He turns to walk away.

“Wait! Jungkook can we...can’t we catch up or something? For a couple minutes?” Yoojung is visibly desperate, and her hands are outstretched as if wanting to touch him but keeping herself from overstepping the line. 

Jungkook glances through the window of the bookstore, and you are situated on a chair, already nose deep in a hefty book. He wants to smile and tease you for being such a nerd, but the weight of Yoojung’s presence makes him reinforce those walls of indifference tenfold. 

He exhales frustration and inhales temptation, looking back into Yoojung’s familiar eyes and nodding. Jungkook walks to a nearby bench and sits down with no words exchanged, looking forward coldly even when he feels her warmth next to him. A couple months ago, Jungkook would have set all his canvases on fire to feel her beside him again. Now, he’s not so sure.

“So…”, she starts, “who’s that cute girl you were with?” 

“No one.” He shoots out a little too soon with no hesitation. Yoojung gulps.

“You know Jungkook, it’s okay to find someone. I-I know I hurt you, but I’m glad if you’ve found someone who doesn’t.” Jungkook doesn’t say anything so she continues.

“I’m really happy for-”

“I never really forgave you Yoojung.” He stares blankly at the passersby and tries to ignore the ache in his bones. The one that’s been there the day she left and took a piece of his heart with her. 

“And I don’t want to blame you for my decisions but I want you to know that I push away a lot of people because of you. People that don’t deserve it.” From the corner of his eye, he can see her nod solemnly to his words and fidget with her hands in her lap. Part of him feels guilty for unloading on Yoojung. Part of him feels like maybe he deserves to. 

“What you did was really shitty. Astronomically fucking shitty. And I’ve spent the past eternity hating you and maybe I still do, but…”, Jungkook takes a deep breath, “I want to forgive you now. If not fully, then partially. I hope you can understand that.” He finally tilts his head to look at her and though the smile on her face is as beautiful as he remembers it to be, Jungkook no longer feels the longing. No longer feels the sting that he usually does when his thoughts take him back to the years they spent together. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to call it closure, not yet anyway. Sitting here on the bench, he still wants to scream and yell and tell Yoojung of all the nights he’s spent alone since she left. He still wants to drag her back and wonder if she could love him again like she used to. 

But he doesn’t. He listens when she tells him about her new job and her new apartment right by the lakeside. They share snippets of their separate lives. Just deep enough to rekindle something warm but shallow enough to not invite anything else in. 

When he walks away from the bench and into the bookstore, Jungkook stills feels the walls that he has built around himself. He is still scared of opening up and being vulnerable but the anger held for Yoojung for so long is no longer a raging fire. More so a wickering flame. 

When he spots you, though, he remembers why he built those walls in the first place. He remembers how easy it used to be for him to climb a high peak and fall to his demise. Your eyes widen when you catch sight of him, lips curling into a wide smile and clear excitement in your expression. The book in your hands is tossed aside and tunnel vision reserved for him and him only. Something blooms in his chest and he can’t remember the last time someone’s been so elated to just simply see him...aside from his dog. Jungkook reminds himself to act uncaring. If he pretends long enough, he’ll start to believe it himself. 

◓

The train ride home feels longer than the one there. The minutes drag by and perhaps it is because of your drooping eyes or the way Jungkook is looking at you with a different tenderness than he has been before. His stare is not harsh. It’s soft and sweet, but subtle enough for you to wonder if you are just imagining it. The night has always been unforgiving and cold even in the spring, but perhaps all that’s needed to breathe some warmth, is a 15 minute train ride and a wrist with a crescent moon.

Yet every time you become more smitten with Jungkook, there is a harsh reminder that follows you everywhere like a designated storm cloud. 

Jungkook does not love you. And you are trying and you will continue to try but his eyes tell you something he is too courteous to say. You see it now as he sits across from you and admires the skyline from the window. It makes you wonder if it is soulmates he doesn’t believe in, or if it is just you that he can’t bring himself to accept. With every cold glance and wall that he puts up, you start to convince yourself that it is the latter.

“We’re here, Y/N”, Jungkook speaks quietly, interrupting your drifting thoughts. He turns around and leaves the train car with hands tucked in his coat pocket. Did you expect him to escort you out and hold your hand? Of course not. But you were tired of Jungkook being so indifferent to your existence. 

You follow him glumly out the doors that slide close after you step through. Then it zips off again and you wonder where it would have taken you if you just stayed in your seat. If Jungkook would have even noticed that you hadn’t followed him when he left. 

You sigh into the night air and wish it was winter so that your breath could be visible as a white cloud. Maybe then Jungkook would notice that you were a living being beside him. 

“Who was that girl that we met back there?”, you murmur hesitantly. Jungkook nearly chokes on air. 

“No one”, he responds curtly, effectively cutting off the conversation then and there. It makes your heart sink. She must be important and all you want to do is know every single detail about their relationship, but the look in his eyes warn you to not pry. 

You don’t think you can forget the way Jungkook looked at her from across the street. Like he had been lost this whole time and she was the North star. You saw the way his eyes twinkled in the midday sun and sparkled even more when she came closer. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to have that effect on him. 

“Hey, next time you should pick a place you and I both do not live in”, you giggle, nudging his shoulder with your own. It makes him smile and even though your heart feels heavy in your chest, Jungkook looks so beautiful when he smiles. 

The two pair of feet subconsciously carry you both to the front door of your apartment building and the scene is too familiar from the last time. You expect him to turn around and whisper a hushed goodnight under his breath, and you’ll have to watch the back of his head disappear down the street. But he doesn’t. Just stands across from you quietly and waits for you to say something. So you do. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry if I brought up something you didn’t want to remember. I don’t really know your story but it seems you two have a lot of history.” You want to tell him how hard it is for you to be his soulmate when he is so clearly vying for the warmth of someone else. Someone who didn’t have a crescent moon on her wrist. 

“I know you’ll tell me whenever you’re ready, and if that’s never then I’ll keep waiting until forever. But I’m here if you want to talk or unload and I already know I can help because…” you fidget with your hands and look around nervously. 

“Well, because I’m your soulmate.” 

When you say it loud and explicitly, Jungkook thought the statement would have made him recoil. But it doesn’t. It just seeps through his consciousness and feels warm when he thinks about the weight of those words. You are his soulmate, regardless of if he believes in such a thing or not. You carry the same mark as he does on your wrist and somehow, by some intangible factor, the universe had decided that you were created for him and he for you. 

And when he looks at you. Really looks at you. When Jungkook processes your sincere words and how you manage to deal with his insurmountable boundaries even when you barely know him…

Jungkook has never wanted to kiss you more. 

So he does. 

Your lips taste like mint chewing gum and the ghost of words you wish to tell him but can’t. He feels you stiffen until you completely melt in his hold, and Jungkook cradles your face with both his hands, pulling you closer to him until there is no barrier between you but the clothes on your back and the emotional distance. You feel so far away even when you’re this near. Was it a trick of your imagination when you felt the moon on your wrist tingling? 

It doesn’t last as long as you would’ve liked it to. Jungkook yanks his hands from you like your skin scalded him and takes several steps back. His chest rises up and down violently when his breath comes out ragged, posture stiffening as the gravity of what just happened finally absorbs. You’re there, he knows you’re there and standing in front of him. So why is it he can only see Yoojung. Yoojung and the star on her wrist and apologies on her lips. Yoojung and the tears in her eyes when she walks away. 

You can only stare confusedly when his body goes rigid, and a sudden coldness envelops you both. 

And in the haze of post-embrace, like any two normal lovers, you catch something in his eyes that sets a heavy feeling in your stomach. Before you can confirm if it’s just a trick of the light, Jungkook is already running in the opposite direction and you can only see a shadow of sullen love that follows him. He is gone and you are standing alone, wondering how moonlight could feel so cold even on a spring night. 

You don’t get any sleep that night. Every time you close your eyes, there is only the sight of Jungkook’s disgust and regret to lull you to dreams. 

20 minutes away from your apartment, there is a boy who doesn’t sleep either. He won’t text or call to tell you that he can’t shake off the feeling of your skin on his and your breath fanning his cheek. He won’t admit to himself that tonight, when he looked at you, he felt the possibility of falling in love. He won’t tell you that the moon on his skin longs to be traced by your hands. No, he just shares those secrets with his pillow as its linen soaks up his tears. 

In the midst of it all, there is one verdict that becomes clear to him.

Jungkook wishes he had never told Jimin he needed a muse.

◑

The next three weeks is dedicated to trying to get in touch with your soulmate. Through the whirlwinds of utter confusion and desperation, you try texting, calling, emailing, even showing up at his art studio and apartment to no avail. It seemed he had a talent for avoiding soulmates. 

It hurt, to say the least. That he left you high and dry after giving you the most intense

kiss of your life and doesn’t even have the decency to let you know he’s alive. The feeling of his lips still burns on your skin and you wonder if you are a complete fool for being so smitten with a person who, quite possibly, hasn’t spared you a single thought after that night. You just want - no you just need some clarity. 

Jungkook makes you wait another week before replying. 

It is an impossibly sunny day when you wake up. Your neck is stiff from sleeping like a contortionist and your heart aches even more than your muscles with every passing morning with radio silence from your soulmate. You want to call him and tell him you’re sorry. That you’ll forget anything ever happened. It hurts to even think about it, but for Jungkook, you would go through a little more pain so he would let you into his life. 

Outside the hall, Jimin is singing along to a familiar melody of a song you don’t know the name of and judging by the aroma that wafts through the cracks of your door, he has successfully made a pot of coffee. He has been an anchor throughout this whole thing, and sometimes you make a secret wish to the stars that Jimin had been the one with a crescent moon on his wrist instead. Perhaps that way, you wouldn’t have to go through the agony of chasing love that is constantly sprinting away from you. 

Your phone lays on the bedside table and buzzes innocently to start the morning. When you reach over and scroll through notifications routinely, there is a name there that makes your heart pang. Makes you want to throw up and celebrate at the same time. A text from Jungkook. Your fingers shake as you open it. 

I no longer need a model for the portfolio. Thank you for your involvement. Compensation will be provided promptly. 

The day you met him, you already knew that Jungkook was cold. He never dawdled around a painful truth or toed the line between bluntness and sparing feelings. Jungkook spoke his mind, collateral damage be damned. But this is a different type of cold. This one feels more like dry ice on warm skin. Like the numbing chill of a fading hope. Like winter’s first snowfall when autumn had promised you it would forever stay. 

Phone in your hand and tears threatening to drip down your cheeks, you wish you would have waited a bit more before opening his text. Perhaps that way you could have spent the rest of your morning basking in the spring sun, drinking Jimin’s inevitably bad coffee, having hope that Jeon Jungkook would grow to care for you. Perhaps if you hadn’t opened it so soon, your soulmate would still seem in reach. 

Jimin’s mug nearly drops out of his hand when the door of your bedroom is slammed open. He flings it to the side when he notices your red-rimmed eyes and the shaking hands that clutch onto a cellphone. You scream and sob at the universe, at anyone, asking why it was you that had to experience the chaos of longing. Jimin was there to hold you, as he always is, and helplessly listen to the sound of your heart breaking once again by the hands of Jungkook.

◒

Room 62B of the art building is a place you hope to never have to visit again. Though it’s walls contain memories of you and Jungkook, and the evenings navigating his gallery portfolio along with your convoluted relationship, the wallpaper bleeds with a longing ache. A yearning pain. And if those walls could talk, you don’t think you would want them to say anything at all. They would only murmur what you are slowly accepting to be true.

Jungkook, your soulmate, wants nothing to do with you. 

When you hesitantly rap on the door with a fisted hand, the sound of him rustling from inside makes you want to run the opposite direction. It opens before you get the chance to change your mind and the sight of him nearly takes your breath away. He is beautiful as he always is, hair ruffled and mussed from undoubtedly running his hands through it compulsively. His lips are pink from biting on them and the dark circles under his eyes tells you of the dreams he has deprived himself of. 

Jungkook is painfully gorgeous and painfully not yours. 

“Y/N...I sent you a text earlier.” His voice is saccharine but the words taste so bitter. 

“I know. I read it”, you murmur, shrinking in on yourself. 

“I....Can we talk, Jungkook?” 

His eyes dart around nervously at your question, chewing on his bottom lip and tapping the toe of his shoe as if he was impatient and you were bothering him. And you have known that simply being around Jungkook hurts but the light at the end of the tunnel only continues dwindling. 

You understand why he is acting so restless when your gaze drifts past him and into the room. There is a girl perched on a stool, across from a canvas and easel that you know awfully well. You don’t recognize her but it’s only in your nature to begin comparing every aspect of yourself to this stranger. She sits on her hands and swings her legs back and forth, head in the clouds and eyes trailing the ceiling. She isn’t aware of the weight of her presence in the studio, nor the turmoil she has brought to you, who is standing just outside the door. 

The oxygen in the hallway thins and the breath you’ve been waiting to release since knocking catches in your throat. Coming here, you prepared yourself for a long and inevitably heart-wrenching talk with your soulmate. But you hadn’t prepared for the possibility that he had replaced you overnight. 

The only thought that blares through your mind is that this is your fault. For letting yourself think you were worth more to Jeon Jungkook than any other stranger. You can no longer find it in yourself to be angry at him. Just yourself. 

“You…”, you gulp down a whimper, “you replaced me.” 

Jungkook follows your vacant stare past him and sighs, realizing you had most likely deducted what this scene looked like. You would be right. Between the weeks of trying to understand what you were to him and the impending due date of the portfolio, Jungkook was sure the best way to move past this confusion was to just speed full steam ahead. That meant finding another muse. You were no longer an option.

You only stare down at the floor, but Jungkook begins speaking anyway. 

“Y/N, I…I’m sorry.” You scoff at his words, feigning anger when inside, you truly didn’t know if you could piece yourself back together this time. 

“Look, Y/N. It’s not you. It’s just that…”, he breathes deep, not knowing why it was so hard to say. “I’ve stopped believing soulmates were truly a thing a long time ago. I’m sorry.” 

It’s not the first time you’ve heard these words but it doesn’t mean they hurt any less.

“I didn’t want to initiate anything, Y/N, but you did and I let you and that was my fault to let anything start. I shouldn’t have when I knew nothing would come of it.”

It was a fault to him. It never should have happened. 

“So you just thought you would kiss me and decide that I meant nothing to you afterwards?”

“It was a mistake.” It was painful to think it but when you hear Jungkook say it, you experience a new kind of ache. A humorless chuckle bubbles past your throat.

 “I really thought you would grow to love me. Now I know it’s not your fault that I’m a complete fool. To fall head over heels for my soulmate who wishes he had never even met me. Much less share a mark.” 

You can see Jungkook’s eyes widen at your confession, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It was the truth. He deserved to hear it. 

“You shouldn’t. You can’t.” He reaches up to pull at his hair frustratedly.

“Can’t what, Jungkook? Love you? You think I want to be in love with someone who wishes I didn’t exist?” You hate your voice for breaking, but its impossibly painful when he does nothing to deny your statement. 

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? What can I say to make this better?”

Try: I love you too.

“I don’t need you to say anything you don’t mean, Jungkook.” 

“Then shouldn’t you leave?”

Jeon Jungkook is cruel even when he doesn’t mean to be. There is oblivion in his gaze, and his question is one of genuine curiosity. But it still stabs you exactly where your heart is most tender. Yes, I should have left. 

“I guess I thought you were worth the pain, Jungkook. When you pushed me away and wanted nothing to do with me, I thought you were worth hurting for just to try a little more. Worth the uncertainty of being around you but never getting to actually be with you”, you numbly mutter, uncaring about the rivulets of tears down your face. Not like it wasn’t something he’s never seen before. There is more to come on the tip of your tongue, and Jungkook stays quiet to let you speak. There is conflict in his vision, but you don’t want to give yourself the false hope that he cares for you. 

Look where that has gotten you before. 

“You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”

Saying the words are revelation for you as much as it is for him. All this time, you’ve been running away from the truth in the pursuit of your soulmate. You hadn’t realized that the chase led you astray. 

“And I know that loving me is not easy. I’m…”, you force the words out so he can at least hear your turmoil by his hands. “I’m never really good enough for anyone. Why did I expect that I would be good enough for you?” 

Jungkook’s expression crumples into a frown. “Y/N, no, that’s not what I mean-”

“You don’t have to tell me what you mean, Jungkook. I meet you and the first thing you say is that you don’t believe in such a thing. I try to get close to you and all you know to do is push me away. And I try so hard to be enough but how can I when Yoojung still has your heart? So you don’t have to say it. I know what you mean.” You’ve stopped crying but the ache relents, and you can only look desperately at the boy who’s slipping from your grasp with every passing second. 

“I’m sorry.” The message is redundant.

“I can’t…” Rip off the bandaid. 

“I just can’t love you.”

The words make their way past his lips before he can stop them, and they shoot through your core ruthlessly. A sharpened dagger to soft flesh. It manifests itself in a physical pain that reverberates across your chest, and when the last strength left in you is used to stare at Jungkook through a pained and teary gaze, you are deaf to everything but those four words.

I can’t love you.

I can’t love you. 

I can’t love you. 

You’re not sure what he is sorry for at this point. If Jungkook is apologizing for not loving you, you don’t blame him. If he is sorry for entertaining the possibility, you don’t blame him. If he is sorry that you are the one with a crescent moon on your wrist, well...you don’t blame him either. All your life you cherished it like some kind of gift from the universe. Now, nursing your crumbling soul in front of Jungkook, you wish it had never appeared in the first place. 

You shake your head, tucking your lip in between your teeth to stop the sob in your chest from escaping. Through the crack of the door Jungkook hadn’t shut fully, the girl was still there, patiently sitting where you were supposed to and making herself scarce after inevitably hearing you bare your heart to a boy who had no interest in it. 

Humiliation goes hand in hand with heartbreak, and the embarrassment that comes with confessing your love and insecurity urges your feet to run home. But even you cannot deprive yourself of looking at him one more time. 

His wavy head of hair. The scar on his cheekbone that makes him look even more beautiful, if that were possible. The gloss in his dark brown eyes, and the way he looks at you through stone cold walls. You commit it to memory, however painful, before you walk out of his life. 

“Be happy, Jungkook.” 

You truly mean it. 

◐

 The sound of your footsteps getting farther away from him is a sound Jungkook thinks he’ll remember for a long time. It almost prompts him to run after you, cradle you to his chest, and profess how sorry he is again and again until you can truly feel the sincerity. But he doesn’t. Only remains behind the self-procured walls and watches when your figure disappears down the hallway. 

Cold. Unbothered. Indifferent. That’s what he had always told himself when it came to you. But the hallway feels so lonely and the ghost of your presence feels even lonelier, and Jungkook wonders if he had been wrong. 

He walks back into the studio, permanent frown on his face and shoulders hunched over in stress. The paintbrush feels like a stranger rather than an extension of his arm, as it always does, but Jungkook begins painting anyway. Looking at the girl in front of him, he is reminded of the look on your face when you realized he had replaced you completely in the span of three weeks, without even giving you a notice. Her presence in his art studio suddenly feels entirely suffocating. 

“Mina, Get out.” 

“What?”

“Get out of my studio. I don’t need you as a model, anymore. Thanks.” His voice cut through the tension of the room, like a hot knife to butter. He recognizes it as the voice he always forces himself to use around you, and grows even more aggravated. 

The girl scoffs annoyedly, snatching her handbag from the floor and rushing out of the room. Obviously she had thought something more was to come from Jungkook’s art arrangement. He made sure to let her know that was not the case. 

There is a gnawing in his chest. Deep and subtle, but it becomes more prominent as the window view from his studio turns from blue to black. He ponders about spending the night in here, instead of going home to his bedroom where he is forced to consult with the agony of solitude. On top of everything today, Jungkook doesn’t think he can handle that. 

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the pain in your face when he tells you that he can’t love you and he hears the shaking in your voice when you tell him the things that weighed on your soul. He thought the word “wither” was only reserved for flowers. Jungkook didn’t realize a person could wither until he saw it right in front of him. 

In truth, he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he could love you or not. And to Jungkook, that was already a feat in itself. He’s spent so many months convincing himself that his emotional fortress was impregnable. So many nights over whiskey bottles telling himself that love was only for fools and pretenders. To be uncertain about love, now, well...that’s something he is not yet ready to admit to himself. Much less admit to you. But letting you any closer was a fatal game. 

Being uncertain about love means being uncertain about getting hurt. Jungkook has a feeling he wouldn’t make it out in one piece if his heart fell into wrong hands. 

He does end up returning to his apartment that night. But the walk feels far too long and the air feels far too frigid, or perhaps is it because he can’t hear the tread of your footsteps beside him? 

Whatever the reason, tonight feels more lonely.

The stars tell him it’s because he does not like the person he’s alone with. 

Back in room 62B, there is an abandoned painting on a rickety easel. He hadn’t even had the will to wash out his paintbrush, and he’s sure he’ll pay for it the next day. Looking at the piece now, his professor would tell him that there’s too many colors. Too much contrast and nearly not enough depth in his strokes. But what was he to do when he had kicked out his new model and couldn’t get the image of your visible heartbreak out of his brain? 

A familiar wrist with a quaint crescent moon sits on the canvas, and he sure as hell didn’t use Mina as the inspiration. Jungkook reminds himself to throw out the painting tomorrow morning. 

◓

The grease on Jimin’s skillet pan is always so hard to clean. The dish soap never truly cuts through the oil, and no matter how much you rinse it over with scalding water, it still feels soiled. On a normal day, it wouldn’t frustrate you so much. Today, a month-and-a-half after your soulmate made it clear to you that you had no place in his life, you want to throw the pan out the window and cry on the kitchen floor until it collapses with the weight of your tears. 

You settle for throwing down the sponge and making Jimin wash his own dishes.

The phone-that you usually now tend to ignore-buzzes on the counter, and you groan at your complete lack of desire to answer it. But the screen lights up with your roommate’s name and you hit the green button. 

“Y/N! How are you feeling, lovebug?” Jimin’s cheerful tone on speakerphone makes you want to cry. You can only imagine how terrible it is for him to be your roommate when all you know how to do now is mope and cry about a boy who probably hasn’t thought about you since. But he’s been holding you through all your breakdowns, and even sets up the air mattress on the floor of your bedroom when some nights are a little bit harder than most. 

“I’ve had better days”, you glare at the pan in the sink. “What’s up?’

“So I have a friend…”

“Jimin, no.” 

He sighs over the phone understandingly, but still not satisfied. “I know it’s only been a month Y/N, but it doesn’t have to be anything. He’s not looking for anything serious either. But maybe it would be good for you to take your mind off things.” 

It’s been a month. Four weeks. Roughly 31 days, and you still remember every word he said to you in the hallway of the art building. Every pause and quiver of his breath, and the way he looked so completely indifferent to your pain. Was one month enough for you to let go even after finding out Jungkook never planned to hold on in the first place?

“Look, you don’t have to decide now. I’m sorry for pushing you if you’re not ready.” His mumbling is apologetic and it makes you realize that Jimin genuinely means well. Maybe you weren’t ready to move on from Jungkook yet. Maybe you never will be. He was your damn soulmate, after all. But maybe a distraction couldn’t hurt.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll do it.” 

You can practically feel him smiling like an idiot over the phone. “Really?!” You sigh into the speaker and Jimin knows better to continue talking before you change your mind.

“His name is Namjoon, he works with me at the office. Super cute. Super hot. Super smart. Checks all your boxes!”, he rambles on about the nitty gritty details and though a part you is proud that you’re making the decision to move on with life, you can’t help but to realize that no one will ever be able to “check all your boxes”.

Not if they’re not Jungkook. 

“He sounds great, Jimin.” Anyone can tell your happiness is disingenuous, even through the phone. Jimin tells you that he had already planned a date (without your knowledge), and sends you on your way with a quick goodbye when his taxi arrives. The silence of the apartment after the conversation leaves you feeling even more weighted, but hopeful for the possibility of a distraction. You had a feeling you won’t be able to forget the likes of Jeon Jungkook if you tried. But, if only for a night, you were to forget the pain of loving him, you’ll take that chance. 

◑

“What do you mean they all ‘feel the same’?” Jungkook is exasperated. He had drafted a complete version of his portfolio, working through the nights by the sweat of his brow. Now his professor was telling him that all his pieces felt the same and Jungkook thinks he might commit arson to the art studio.

Professor Sejin sighs contemplatively, taking off his glasses and throwing them on the table, all too familiar with Jungkook’s periodic art tantrums. 

“I mean that your pieces lack any variegation. The portfolio is well done and coherent, but the completed package is one-noted. It’s consistent. But too much so.”

Professor Sejin’s words make him fall back into the chair dejectedly, shoulders slumped and disappointment in his eyes at the critique of his art. Though it is hard to hear, Jungkook always welcomes productive criticism. The older man sympathizes with his downcast eyes and the visible stress on his back. 

“Look, Jungkook”, he affirms sincerely, “you just need to find some dynamic. Something to make people know that you can do more than one tone of art.” It’s obvious that the professor has a soft spot for the boy in front of him, who looks like his entire world is collapsing. The portfolio folder is handed back to him and Jungkook has the urge to burn it and not hear the word “gallery” again in the next decade. 

“I have faith in you. You’ll figure out what it is that you’re missing.” The smile on the man’s face is congenial. Genuine. And even though he has an ambitious amount of work to do, Jungkook finds the will to nod, haul himself off the office chair, and begin the trek back to his studio. 

The pinnacle of spring is approaching and the sun shines brighter with each morning. Not that he would know or care. He’s spent the last month locking himself inside, dedicating every fluid ounce of energy towards completing his project. It’s been surprisingly easier, and Jungkook finds himself finishing paintings, sketches, and sculptures with ease. Like untapped inspiration had revealed itself to him suddenly. Yet it still wasn’t enough...at least not according to Professor Sejin. 

Headphones drown out the cacophony of hustlers and bustlers with the laughter of children as accompaniment. He doesn’t allow himself to enjoy the music of the city. Not anymore. It gives him too much space to think, and Jungkook has a feeling that’s not good for anyone and definitely not good for him. 

The sight of a familiar bakery with particularly delicious apple strudels is enough to stop him in his rush, feet winding down until he is standing outside, staring at the door and wondering if he could go in without being reminded of you. Well, it might be too late for that anyhow, but further signs of protest are halted when he hears his growling stomach. 

Jungkook had morbidly underestimated your presence in the memory of his favorite cafe. You are everywhere. He sees your smiling face when he looks up at the chalkboard menu, soul vying for you to be next to him and excitedly choosing a new fru-fru drink that would undoubtedly have excessive sugar. He hears your giggles ruminating through the cafe while the other patrons only hear the music over loudspeaker. He practically feels you near, but that doesn’t matter now. It’s better this way. No one gets hurt this way. 

Jungkook plops himself at a corner table and buries his face in his hands, fingertips soothing over his pulsing eyebags and wrinkles he’s gotten from sleep deprivation. He desperately needs an espresso shot. Or five. 

“Hey…”, a voice makes him snap his head up. Jungkook recognizes the stranger as the owner’s son, who always stands guard at the cash register. The tag on his lapel reads Kim Seokjin, and Jungkook has a distant memory of you gushing over how nice Seokjin’s hair was. He had acted unbothered back then, but Jungkook would die before telling a soul that he was annoyed and jealous when you thought the cashier was cute. 

“Jungkook, right?”. He has a kind smile and a natural air of invitation. Jungkook nods. 

“I’ve seen you around a lot. Where’s that girl you always come here with?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business”, he nearly hisses, antsy at the mere mention of you. He instantly regrets it though. Seokjin looks like he’s been cornered with a blunt weapon, and it makes Jungkook sigh at his own asshole-ishness. 

“I’m sorry”, he mumbles, “just not a good day. At all.” 

There is a pause and hesitation before the boy speaks. “Do you...wanna talk about it?” Seokjin’s question is met with silence. 

There is a predictability about Jeon Jungkook. He doesn’t open himself up to anyone. He pretends that he doesn’t have problems so well, people start to become convinced. He avoids new connections like it’s the plague. But there is something so idiosyncratic about Kim Seokjin that makes him want to talk. Makes him want to trust a complete stranger. 

So Jungkook nods, depositing his black backpack besides him and lets himself breathe deep. 

“Her name is Y/N….”

In the lukewarm air of the café, Jungkook tells Seokjin about you. About the tiny crescent moon on your wrist that identically matches his - even unwraps his cloth to show it - and how he pushed you away hard enough to put an ocean’s worth of distance between the two of you. He tells Seokjin about Yoojung and the stars on her skin that have been plaguing him since the day she left. He tells him about that damn portfolio that refuses to be finished; one that he apparently has to start over because Professor goddamn Sejin says it's too boring. He allows himself to unload, and wow is it easier to breathe when you talk about your feelings. Jungkook reminds himself to do that more often. 

The “conversation” seems to stretch for hours (if a conversation can be considered one person unleashing all their hidden baggage on the other while they sit in silence). Jin listens intently through the entire ordeal, offering occasional nods and encouragement for him to continue. When Jungkook finally finishes with a deep breath, falling back on the chair looking completely worn out, Jin fixes him with a hot tea before speaking.

“The portfolio is important to you, Jungkook. If it’s important to you, you’ll find a way. Something tells me that you’re not one to give up so easily”, he quips with a playful lilt in his voice. Jin’s genuine faith in him makes Jungkook believe in himself.

“And as for Yoojung, well, I can’t speak on your pain. You are the only one that narrates your experiences but as much as she seems like a villain in your story, perhaps she has opened a door.” Jungkook thinks his voice sounds far too wise to be coming from a guy in his 20’s.

“Would you have known how to nurse a broken heart had it not been for her? I’m sorry she did that to you, Jungkook, but..Yoojung is your past. And I see so much in your future.” 

Jungkook only stares into the abyss of his tea cup. The reflection that stares back is someone he desperately wants to learn to love. When he looks up again, there is a sad glimmer in Seokjin’s gaze. Something so despondent that he feels second-hand pain. 

Jin pulls up the sleeve of his knit sweater. On his wrist sits a faded marigold, so blanched it almost blends in with his skin and makes him wonder if it will just disappear one day. Jungkook feels his blood run cold.

“It’s been two years since she died”, he stares solemnly at his skin, “I don’t think a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about her.” 

Jungkook’s thought about his soulmate mark disappearing before. Even hoped and prayed for it the days after Yoojung left. But now, when he sees it up close on Seokjin’s wrist, Jungkook doesn’t want to wish that loneliness upon anyone. 

“She was so damn...persistent”, Jin laughs, fondness dripping in every word. “Like your Y/N in that way, I suppose. She had a goal and was hell-bent on achieving it. She was so kind and strong and much more of a badass than I could ever be. I loved that about her.” There is sorrow in his voice when he uses the past tense, and Jungkook feels even worse for pouring his heart out about his very alive soulmate. 

“She was studying to be a doctor, you know? Ironic that even the best doctors couldn’t have saved her in the end.” His sentence trails off and he loses focus gazing out the window, fidgeting with the ring on his left hand with a faraway look in his eyes. 

“I don’t mean to ramble about my dead soulmate for no reason, Jungkook. And I’m in no position to tell you what you should or should not do regarding Y/N. But if I could restart this life with my soulmate, there wouldn’t be one second I would waste not at her side.” Jin’s tone is not accusatory or convicting. Just honest.

“It’s normal to be scared and apprehensive. Hell, I would be more concerned if you weren’t going into it with a shit ton of skepticism. I was terrified. Yet out of the billions of people that could’ve had my mark on their wrist, just knowing that she was that one was enough for me to love her.”

The cup of tea has long gone cold. Jungkook only manages to stare at the mahogany table, thoughts too heavy to voice aloud, so Jin continues. 

“I think I would give anything to know that such a person still exists for me. Someone out there that was chosen by an unknown, cosmic force for an unexplainable reason just for me. To see a mark that matches my own. Well…”, Jin breathes deeply, tears welling in his eyes but not falling, “I think that must be the most wonderful thing in the entire world.”

◒

Seokjin’s words stick with him long after he has departed from the café. Long after the tea has settled in his stomach along with the weight of what a soulmate means to this stranger whose life story he has learned in the course of an evening. 

Even so, Jungkook’s not sure what he should feel. The fear of vulnerability still feels like a designated thundercloud above his head, and the thought of letting you past his walls makes Jungkook want to run the other way.

At the same time, the trepidation doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. It’s still there, and he can’t pinpoint exactly what happened but when he sees your smiling face behind his eyelids, Jungkook doesn’t feel scared. When he focuses on what you look like under sunlight, or your eyes staring at him through a camera lens, there is no fear of the broken heart you could leave him with. Just something warm. Something that feels an awful lot like...love?

 But what does Jungkook know about such things? 

He shrugs it off his shoulders, and readies himself for a night of inevitably restless sleep. He blames it on the impending due date of his beloved portfolio, but really, it is you. You and your insistence on trying every single coffee shop in the city. You and your convoluted idea of a date; letting your partner choose the location with their eyes closed. You and…

Just everything about you. 

He falls asleep well into 4am. The thin strap of cloth sits on his bedside table. Even if it is only for the night sky to see, Jungkook lets his soulmate mark breathe. 

◐

It’s been so long since you’ve dressed up or cleaned up to go out anywhere, the reflection that stares back feels like a stranger. You’ve opted for a bold red lip, meticulously applying your makeup so that even the wing of your eyeliner was sharp enough to kill. Jimin forced you to curl your hair too, of course. The girl in the mirror looks beautiful. You know that she is beautiful.

So why is it that you can only see the face that is not enough for Jeon Jungkook? A person that he is unable to love. No, not even foundation can cover the face of longing.

“Y/N”, Jimin sing-songs, “hurry! You don’t wanna be late do you?” No, you don’t want to be late. You want to not go. Maybe retreat to your bedroom and cry the night away again. But you won’t tell him that when he is so clearly ecstatic that you’re spending a night out for the first time in months. 

The restaurant looks like it is entirely out of your budget. Well, you reckon any restaurant is out of your budget with all the debt that looms overhead and your painfully apparent unemployment. Waiting for Namjoon is less than exhilarating, and you spend the time fiddling with your bracelet that conveniently covers the crescent moon. These days, you can’t bear to look at it anymore. Your eyes are glued to the little mark, before a voice sounds from across the table.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was insane. You must be Y/N, nice to meet you.” You weren’t sure what you expected Kim Namjoon to look like but were pleasantly surprised. Namjoon looks like he takes care of himself, neat and clean and sporting a very shiny watch that looks like 4 months’ worth of rent. 

“And you must be Namjoon. Likewise.” 

When he pulls out the chair to sit down, you can’t help but to notice the cloud on his wrist. It was smaller than yours but you had no doubt it felt just as heavy. If Namjoon felt your gaze on his skin, he did nothing to show it. 

“Hey, I know I just got here but…”, he sighs and takes a look around the room, “do you wanna get out of here? Find the cheapest and greasiest food we can?” His request makes you smile, and you grab the purse that rested on the table. 

“Namjoon, I think that’s the best idea you’ve had yet.” 

You and Namjoon manage to find a diner that wasn’t far from the fancy restaurant, and you thank the skies that you didn’t have to pay $50 for a salad tonight. Just some pocket change for quite possibly the best and oiliest hamburger you’ve ever had. 

By conversation that happens through mouthfuls of food and faces smeared with milkshake residue, you come to learn that Namjoon is an unsurprisingly nice guy. He studies poetry, but is working as a secretary at an office, hence his connection to Jimin. He loves to garden and talks about his bonsai plants to you like they’re his kids, even pulling up pictures on his phone and gazing down at them fondly. It makes you smile. He plays the piano, and likes to take long bike rides when the weather permits. 

It’s nice to have someone reciprocate your effort. It’s something you haven’t experienced in a long time, all credit to one Jeon Jungkook. Namjoon is warm in all the corners where Jungkook is cold. 

In a word, he is pretty damn perfect. And if he had a crescent moon on his wrist, you probably wouldn’t bat an eye or have a lick of doubt in the universe. He encompasses everything you want, so alike you in so many aspects it makes you wary. If Namjoon had your matching soulmate mark, you would already be in love with him. 

But he doesn’t. And that thought alone keeps you from feeling anything but platonicity. He is not Jungkook. You don’t think anyone can make you feel the way Jungkook does. You want to curse the stars for making this so. 

It’s well into the night, and you both remain planted in the diner booth, chatting and chuckling over a plate of french fries. It’s when you drift off while he’s talking about his latest attempt at focaccia that Namjoon sighs and sits back in the seat. 

“What?”, you confusedly ask after he suddenly stops speaking.

He smiles. Stays silent for a couple seconds. Then speaks. 

“So what did your soulmate do to you?”

His question catches you off guard and you can only stare at him, frown on your face and words lost on your tongue. 

“You’ve been staring into space every 5 minutes this whole night, and fidgeting with your bracelet so much I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen off”, he explains, tenderness and sympathy in his tone. 

“Every time I speak, you have this sad look in your eyes and I have a feeling you’re imagining someone else’s face, Y/N. I’ve enjoyed talking to you...a lot. But I can tell you want to be somewhere else so”, Namjoon places his elbows on the table and gazes at you endearingly, “tell me about your soulmate.” 

You stare at Namjoon through shocked eyes, glistening with the onset of tears that you manage to keep from escaping. Gosh, you were pathetic. Already wanting to cry at the mere mention of him. Or maybe the fact that someone could see through your facade. You take a deep breath. 

“His name is Jeon Jungkook.” Your voice quivers, and Namjoon continues listening intently. You are reluctant to continue because you know that once this conversation begins, there is a chance you might have to confront yourself again with the pain of loving someone who doesn’t want love. You internally apologize to Namjoon in advance, for you might cry on this first date. 

“I…I’m completely head over heels in love with him  but after everything, I’m not sure I have the slightest clue what love is. Because what sane person can fall in love with a person who has made it clear that that love wouldn’t be reciprocated from the get go?”

You fiddle with the plastic straw in your milkshake, searching for the courage to go on and tell him about every thought that you have denied yourself the satisfaction of verbalizing. 

“He loves apple strudels, you know. Eats them every time like they’re the last apple strudels he’ll ever have and he doesn’t give a damn who’s watching”, you chuckle, gaze drifting off to space. There is a fondness in your eyes as you speak, and Namjoon does not miss it. 

“He’s as punctual as the day is long. One time I was late to a photoshoot and he almost made me cry lecturing me about the importance of being on time. But now I’m never late.” 

The memory makes you, as well as Namjoon, smile. 

“He paints like his life depends on it, and he’ll get oil paint on his face without noticing and sometimes I just want to reach out and wipe it off. But I think he’d murder me on the spot.”

“How come?”, Namjoon offers his first words in the midst of your monologue. You’re not sure what to say next. 

“Well...I think Jeon Jungkook might be the coldest person I’ve ever met”, you dejectedly sigh. Reality tastes bitter even with remnants of whipped cream on your lips. 

“Every time I was around him, it felt like I was willingly breaking my own heart just for the chance to know that he was next to me. That in this entire world of billions of people, the one with the same moon on their wrist was next to me. And...I guess I didn’t really need him to love me yet”, your gaze locks onto Namjoon and you find he is already staring at you with utmost curiosity and subtle pity. 

“Jungkook alone was enough. I just wish he could have felt the same about me.” 

Perhaps the reason why the truth is so painful to speak is because people have a tendency to run from it. Then when it catches up to you, it’s a harsh trip and fall to the rocky ground. There is no cushion when you land. 

Namjoon doesn’t offer advice. Doesn’t dish his own experiences to relate to your own or even make any comments from his perspective. He just sits and listens in silence, but it doesn’t feel like he is disregarding you. No, his eyes tell you that he soaks in every word. You hope you’ll get the chance to do the same for him...if he ever decides to share his story with you. 

The two of you leave the diner with a prospective to be friends, and no plans of a future second date. You had a strong feeling that spending the entire evening talking about your unrequited soulmate love had something to do with that. Nevertheless, though Namjoon didn’t work out as a distraction, you were glad to have met him. It made you realize something.

Even if Jimin thought you were ready to move on. Even if you thought you were ready to forget. It might be a lifetime before you finally let go of that boy.

◓

The morning reeks of rain and dew, humidity nearly clawing its way through his window and turning his apartment into a swamp. When he wakes up, it is not to his blaring alarm clock, but the uncomfortable sensation of a sweaty shirt sticking to his back. Jungkook groans, already tired of this day. It seems hopeless from the beginning. 

As much as he wanted to stay home and crank up the air conditioner so much that his landlord would come running, Professor Sejin’s voice reverberates through his eardrums.

You art is too one-noted, Jungkook.

Be better, Jungkook.

You’re talentless and will never succeed, Jungkook. 

Of course, these are not Professor Sejin’s verbatim, more so Jungkook’s own mind that twists his teacher’s constructive criticism into something else. He is a master at feeding his insecurity.

Jungkook chugs down a lukewarm cup of black coffee, and his stomach growls for something with a little more sugar and maybe a dash of rainbow colored sprinkles. He guesses he has you to thank for that. The art studio is always a daily destination, and this day is no different. Jungkook has a plan to dedicate himself to fixing his portfolio and maybe finish that clay piece he never got around to. 

The studio is too cold for his liking; Jungkook can’t remember how many times he has begged the superintendent to lower the AC. The cold he can deal with. The loneliness, however, is a different story. Jungkook is always alone. Alone when he’s in his apartment. Alone when he’s in class. Alone when he’s in the art room. These days, aloneness feels more haunting when he knows he had the option to escape it, but chose to stay. A part of him is ready to admit that it’s because of you. 

Jungkook hums a random melody that had been stuck in his head since the morning, fingers gliding over the slick sculpting clay. The days are easier now. He doesn’t think about you so much when the sun is out and there is the bustling of the busy city to distract him. The nights, however, are just as difficult as they have been. Jungkook’s last drifting thought is of you, and your face torturously carries over to each dream. Like his entire being misses you but he refuses to accept it. 

He takes a deep sigh in relief once the sculpture feels finished. Professor Sejin wanted something more dynamic, so there: his very own realist clay piece drawing inspiration from Praxiteles’ sculpture of Aphrodite. He sits back in pride, admiring his own handiwork and giving himself a mental pat on the back. It looks great. Perfect even. It looks….

It looks like you. 

Jungkook pales at the realization as the clay face stares back at him. No, this was supposed to be Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love, inspired by the ancient Greek artist that sculpted her. Then why does she have your nose? Those eyes are definitely your’s and even those cheeks are identical. Jungkook hadn’t even realized that in the rhythm of his art, he got lost and accidentally sculpted your face instead. 

He walks away from the clay table and hurriedly yanks off the soiled apron around his waist, confusion swimming in every cell of his body. How had he just...made a sculpture of you? With no knowledge that he was doing it?

Jungkook leans with his back against the sink, staring down at the floor with furrowed brows and a thundering heart. With a sudden epiphany, Jungkook leaps from his position and pulls out all the canvases, printed photographs, graphite drawings, and clay pieces he’s made for the past few months. Everything he can grab in the small studio space. 

It is then that he comes to the daunting realization:

Holy shit.

Professor Sejin was right.

 Everything feels the same. His whole portfolio has one note and no dynamic or diversity because...well, because all of his pieces are of you. Not you, necessarily, but your breath has come alive on his art in some way, shape, or form. 

The multimedia painting he made two weeks ago using polystyrene sheets was supposed to mimic sunlight through a stained glass window, but Jungkook hadn’t even noticed he'd drawn the window of the café you dragged him to on its opening day. And the colors of the glass is just the twinkle of your eyes when they stare back into his. 

The photoset he spent hours taking around the city, after taking a 15 minute train ride, were just repeats of all the places you two went to that one day. The book store. The park. The streetlight where Yoojung stopped him. He hadn’t even realized he only saved the photos associated with a subconscious memory of you. 

Jungkook can’t explain it, but he feels you in every single picture. Every piece of art that his hands have manifested since you walked into his life, stupid smile on your face and that little moon on your wrist. He feels it...and call it artist’s intuition or something but perhaps that’s why Professor Sejin could feel it too. 

Even though he stopped making you his muse months ago, you are still the root of inspiration for whatever he’s produced since. And if that’s not enough to finally tell him what he needs to hear. Finally make him realize that he’s fallen in love with you without even knowing it, the universe doesn’t know what will. 

The minutes it has been since he realized your place in his life melts like slow dripping honey, feeling like an eternity when it is mere moments. Jungkook regains his focus in the haze. He knows what you mean to him now, but there was something he had to fo first. 

He swipes all his paintbrushes and palette knives to the side, sweat on his brow as he furiously rearranges his portfolio. He takes out the pictures of Mina - no one would miss them anyway - and trashes all the photos he took before he met you. He only uses the art he’s created post-Y/N and tucks them in the manila folder so rapidly, there’s paper cuts on his fingers. But he doesn’t feel them. Jungkook has only one objective. 

He snaps a picture of the new clay sculpture he’s just finished. The photo goes into the portfolio with the name ‘Aphrodite’, but Jungkook knows better about whose face that truly belongs to. Not that anyone would bat an eye. He thinks you are as beautiful as the goddess herself. 

The trip to Professor Sejin’s office is short, unsurprising though, since Jungkook sprints the whole way there. When he arrives, and the professor can only stare as he’s bent over and huffing violently trying to catch his breath, Jungkook reminds himself to spend less time at the studio and more time on the cardio. 

He throws the portfolio onto the man’s desk unceremoniously, nearly collapsing on the chair across from him and not ready to speak yet. Professor Sejin confusedly rifles through the folder quickly, too quickly, and sighs, ready to offer Jungkook yet the same critique again. 

He opens his mouth, but Jungkook cuts him off. 

“Before you say anything…”, he gulps, finally ready to admit the truth to himself. 

“I want you to know that I’ve met my soulmate, a-and there’s a reason why you feel that my portfolio is all the same. There’s a reason why you feel it’s all one-noted or that there’s no progression.” Jungkook takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, and you are there behind his lids. 

“It’s because she sowed the seeds for all of them. Everything. Those paintings and photos and sculptures are just symptoms of what I’ve been feeling this whole time after meeting her. She’s practically the artist, not me.” Professor Sejin stays silent at his monologue, gaze unreadable but eyes sharp and trained solely on Jungkook. 

“Maybe...Maybe art doesn’t need to be super variegated all the time. Maybe it’s supposed to be a cohesive unit and the pieces should string to each other. Maybe paintings should have a relationship to photos and them, to sculptures. Maybe you’re just...wrong.” 

He is exasperated and passion flows out of him through every pore. Jungkook looks expectantly at his professor, who has the open folder in his hand and still in the process of taking in his words. When the adrenaline starts to fade, he realizes that he just dissed his venerable teacher. 

“With all due respect…”, he coughs, “sir.” 

Professor Sejin lets Jungkook spend the next couple minutes in complete torturous silence so that he can finish reviewing his portfolio. The tension is cut with the sound of the man’s hands slapping together as he closes the folder. Jungkook prepares himself for a stern lecture.

However, when he looks up, there is a smile on the man’s face. There’s no malice there, or even disdain. He pulls off his glasses, sets them on the table, and sits back in the office chair, arms folded over his chest. Jungkook can feel his heart threatening to pound past his rib cage. 

“Jungkook…”, Professor Sejin declares, “I think you’ve got a contender for the gallery spot.” 

◑

If someone had asked you what Jeon Jungkook meant to you, you would look them in the eye and tell them that he meant nothing. Because it’s easier to pretend that someone does not mean anything to you after they pretend that you do not exist. That the universe had not given you both matching marks and deemed that your souls were meant for each other. Jeon Jungkook is a stranger to you. One that you wanted so badly to love. But you’ve come to learn that no matter how hard you try; you can’t love someone who doesn’t want to love at all.

So the days trickle by as they usually do. Painstakingly slow and viscous with memories of a boy named Jeon Jungkook and the way he has hurt you enough to last a little bit over forever. 

“I understand why you don’t want to go, Y/N. But aren’t you the least bit curious? Especially after that fancy invitation in the mail?” Jimin’s query is innocent. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make your blood boil. 

“I don’t know...the thought of going to my soulmate’s grand art gallery when the last time we spoke, he told me he can’t love me, just doesn’t seem appealing Jimin”, you snark, burying your face into the bowl of cereal you are now spooning far too aggressively. 

“But...it’s been months. And he wouldn’t have sent you an invitation if he didn’t want you to come.” 

This conversation has happened too frequently since that red envelope arrived at your apartment. You cried your eyes out when you opened it, both out of pride for Jungkook and the fact that no matter what you did, the universe found a way to keep you from moving on. 

A sigh heaves through your chest, and the cereal is abandoned by your loss of appetite. “I’m not going to show up there and have him tell me again all of the reasons he can’t be with me. I barely survived it last time.” 

“But what if, Y/N?”

There is a glimmer in Jimin’s eye and he radiates so much hopefulness for you, you can’t help but to feel it too. 

“Isn’t the what if already enough? You used to tell me that Jungkook was worth anything. Isn’t he worth the risk this time too?”

You don’t have anything else to say after that because as much as you hate to admit, perhaps Jimin is right. Jungkook is worth going through anything for, even if he wants to stay as far away as possible. Call it a fluke in the postal system that the invitation to his gallery landed on your doorstep, but can you allow yourself to read between the lines and dare say that he sent it himself? Can you put yourself through such a perilous thing like optimism?

Jungkook has left you battered and broken for the past months. But you would give your heart to him to break all over again if he asked. 

◒

To say that you did not fit in with those dawdling around the art gallery was a gross understatement. You didn’t just not fit in. Your entire presence and aura defied every expectation, and suddenly, watching the upper echelon of the city mingle with champagne and gaze critically at Jungkook’s art, makes every breath feel like an insecurity. 

The boy in question was nowhere in sight, and you now regret not dragging Jimin with you. The invitation had specifically prohibited plus one’s, and though Jimin whined to no end about his hurt feelings and emptily promised never to talk to Jungkook again, you managed to keep him home. Now, you wish you were back at the apartment with him.

The pieces were, in short, completely breathtaking (to no surprise, of course, this was Jungkook you were talking about). Though you knew he always held doubt in himself, in the short time he allowed you to be in his life, you had never once thought he was anything less than spectacular. Yet you could not allow yourself to completely enjoy them. Each brushstroke and paint color you remember from his palettes, or the filters on the photos that you helped him with, was agonizing to look at. 

You are standing in front of a canvas titled “Windowlight” when a man comes up beside you. He nurses a flute of bubbly champagne and makes no move to gain eye contact. Unknown to you, Professor Sejin knows exactly who you are. He’s seen your face in his student’s portfolio one too many times. 

“Artful use of mixed media, isn’t it?”, he mutters.

“I suppose so.” 

“He’s quite the prodigy. Have you met him yet? I’m sure he’s lurking around somewhere.” The man takes a sip from his glass, smirk on his lips hidden from your eyes that still blankly stare ahead.

“Yes. He’s a...friend.” We share a soulmate mark. He hates my guts. 

He hums a sound of affirmation and you ignore the weird feeling it leaves in your stomach; one that tells you this stranger sees right through you. 

“Ah, how rude of me. Professor Sejin. Arts director and senior advisor.” He spares you a brief glance, but you make no move to shake his hand or pretend to be courteous. You don’t have the energy for it tonight. Just being in this building, surrounded by everything Jungkook has touched, makes you want to collapse into yourself. 

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” He speaks nonchalantly, and you almost miss the fact that you never told him your name. Your brows crease in confusion and you are ready to turn and interrogate the stranger, but he is already walking away, gliding smoothly across the gallery. Before he gets too far, though, Sejin cranes his neck and makes eye contact. 

“Oh, and be sure to visit the one called ‘Moon’. It’s upstairs, next to the Aphrodite sculpture on the second level exhibit”, he entreats, a suspicious lilt in his voice.

“Something tells me you’ll appreciate its…sincerity.”

Honestly, you’re not sure what you expected when you came to Jungkook’s art gallery tonight. But to be approached by a stranger who already knows your name, who dubiously instructs you to seek out a mystery art piece, was not on the list of expectations. Still...Professor Sejin’s words made you curious. 

Through the night, your eyes subconsciously seek out that familiar head of fluffy brown hair and a tall gait that always seems to stick out, even in a large crowd. It was as if Jungkook versed himself in complete camouflage, so much so that you began to doubt that he was even in the building.  

The traipse through the gallery is done in silence and solitude, and you tune out the sounds of popping champagne and raucous laughter coming from the second floor, as the patrons undoubtedly banter over which piece to auction off. You hope he keeps them. You’ve never seen someone appreciate art the way that Jungkook does. 

You catch sight of a few pieces that you recognize, ones that you remember him showing you when he had finished. You always excitedly told him every single one was a masterpiece, and Jungkook only rolled his eyes and made minimal effort at hiding the blush on his cheeks. Your steps falter when you come across a set of photographs in black and white, set in consecutive frames next to each other and it feels so warm despite the lack of color. Jungkook just had that special talent when it came to photography. 

It’s the bookstore. In the city during the impromptu train ride you had coerced him to take. Your heart catches in your throat as you recognize all the other ones immediately because well...you’ve been to all those spots. A familiar pressure builds in the back of your eyes, and you swallow down a whimper of pain. 

The urge to leave becomes too strong. But not strong enough to quell the slow burn of curiosity from Professor Sejin. There is a chance that you might not run into Jungkook at all tonight with the vast space and people bumbling through the corridors. It hurts to think that you might never see him again at all, but you’ll allow yourself another indulgence. Something is calling you. 

Moon. He titled it Moon? You grip onto your wrist reflexively and run your thumb over the mark, like you did when you were younger and still had hope for soulmates. The pulsepoint there beats under your finger and lets you know how alive you are. Compels you to give into your curiosity, even if it might decimate your already crumbling heart. The stairs that lead up to the second floor are short, but the trek feels like it knocks the wind out of you, or perhaps that was just the anticipation of what was waiting for you on the other side.

You were right to be scared. Because right in the smack dab center of the circular room is where you see it, and your gasp is one that can be heard from each wall and corner. 

A painting of you. A portrait from the waist up, with oil paint and so much detail, Jungkook has even managed to line the shallow wrinkles by your eyes when you smile. You have never considered yourself beautiful in any sense but the way he has captured you on canvas starts to make you believe that you truly are. You feel Jungkook in each streak of the brushstroke where he hadn’t spread the color evenly. It is as if the painting is alive, and though you are staring at yourself, it doesn’t feel like the way it does in the mirror. Doesn’t feel like a reflection. 

No, this feels like looking through Jungkook’s eyes. It is what he sees in you, rather than what you see in yourself. And what he sees is beautiful. Through the haze of shock and confusion as to why he chose this as the centerpiece, you don’t notice the warm presence that lurks behind you. The one that has watched your every move since you walked into this building. 

“Yeah, that’s my favorite one too.” 

You whip your head around so quick it nearly gives you whiplash, but the sight of him is the nail in the coffin. Jungkook is cleaned up in a black suit, and an unfamiliar smile on his lips he rarely lets you see. A genuine one that he’s tried to hide so many times but now that it’s clear and up close, you resent him for keeping it from you. 

Jungkook is just as gorgeous as the day you lost him. 

But looking at him hurts. You don’t know why you’re even here, and why he sent the invitation, or why he was standing in front of you now and there is not a sliver of antipathy in his eyes. You don’t know why your face is plastered in the center of the gallery. Most of all, you don’t know why you are still weak in the knees for Jeon Jungkook. 

“Although, I have to say, it was a close race between this one and the pictures I made you take at the lake, when you nearly dunked me in the river because it was so cold”, he breathily laughs but you aren’t able to get through the shock just yet. If Jungkook notices your starstruck state, he doesn’t let it affect him. 

“And I definitely have to give some credit to the one I painted after you told me about your dream”, Jungkook prattles on, “where you were a mermaid who planted peaches under the sea, remember? That’s an honorable mention.” 

These memories make you want to smile but in this moment, the best you can do is try to hold yourself together when your eyes begin to warm with tears. Jungkook stays silent when you do. He notices you haven’t said a word and your gaze refuses to meet his. 

“Why are you doing this, Jungkook?”, you curse yourself when your voice cracks. “Why are you telling me these things? Haven’t you hurt me enough?” Jungkook’s smile drops off his face, and for once, you can see your own pain reflected in his eyes. 

He takes a deep breath, hands hanging limply at his side that itch to wrap themselves around yours. To feel your skin. Feel your mark. 

“I…”, he hesitates in his words, “I remember that day every night when I go to sleep, Y/N. Every time I shut my eyes, I just see your face when I told you I can’t love you, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt such aching before. Not even when she left me.” Jungkook’s voice is tinted with desperation but it just makes your walls rise higher. 

He’s lying to you. Your tongue wants to protest, but he continues. 

“I see you in everything”, Jungkook breathes out, like he is also admitting it to himself. 

“The paintbrushes I can never put down to the black coffee I force myself to drink nowadays because the ones I actually like, the ones with too much whipped cream and vanilla syrup, just reminds me of you.” His brows are knitted, and his feet vie to step closer to your quivering form. But you look like a caged animal about to bolt at any moment. 

“And when I’m reminded of you, I am reminded of…”, he gulps down the fear, “I’m reminded of how I am utterly in love with someone who deserves so much more than what I have put them through.”

The blood that runs through your veins drops to subzero temperatures, and you swear in the split millisecond that you have absorbed what he’s just said, your heart ceases its beating. The world stops turning, and the waves still for a brief moment. You can’t find any words just yet, but Jungkook can see straight through you and your stupefied expression. 

“Y-you’re lying to me, Jungkook. Stop lying.” 

“I’m not lying, please…” Jungkook knows he’s losing you by the second, but he’s promised you he would persist. He just wants you to listen. Wants you to feel how sorry he is, and how his soul screams to be next to your’s. 

“I can’t explain how it happened. Like it was an epiphany. Like someone has been screaming at me and I had been ignoring them, and that someone was my own heart.” Jungkook doesn’t stumble over his words once. He does not stutter because it is the plain white truth. 

“Stop, Jungkook.”

“It’s been knocking on the door of my chest and when I finally let it in, it just yells and shouts ‘oh my god, you’re in love’ and then I realized oh my god, i’m in love. In between painting you and convincing myself that soulmates meant nothing to me, I’ve completely and unquestionably fallen in love with you, Y/N.” 

Jungkook can’t decipher the look on your face. Something between the lines of disbelief and heartbreak, and it makes him want to split at the seams at the pain he’s put you through. How he’s convinced you you’re impossible to love. He vows to make it right again.

“Jungkook-”

“And you’re wrong, you know. You’re not hard to love. Hell, I was dead set on never loving again and you managed to make me so smitten, I can’t paint or draw a damn thing without including some aspect of you in it.” Jungkook steps back and gestures to all the canvases and photos that hang on the wall. 

“Take a look around, Y/N. It’s all you. Every piece.” Once he says it, you finally notice Every piece of art in this room can be traced to you, or a memory you two share. It’s so clear, you don’t know how you missed it before. You feel yourself in the art Jungkook has poured his soul into. Instead of making you feel elated, these words that you’ve been waiting your entire life to hear just ignites the sting. 

“Just stop. Please.” It is only a weak whisper through your lips, and he ignores it. 

“If you can’t forgive me, I get it Y/N. I can’t forgive myself either. But can you just know that you are enough. You are more than what I deserve. And I know you told me to be happy, but there is no way I can possibly do that without you.” 

When your gaze falls to the floor, you notice that his wrist is clean of any bracelets or watches. Come to think of it, this is one of the first times you are seeing it clear and in the flesh. Jungkook doesn’t tell you, but nowadays, he doesn’t allow anything to impede on the sight of the crescent moon.

When your guard is down and you are distracted, he finds the perfect time to finally reach forward and take your hand in his. His touch is gentle when it wraps around your wrist, tugging off the ribbon that circled it, and revealing the matching mark. Your pulse jumps under his fingers, and skips a beat when he runs a thumb over the moon. You are already melting with such simple contact, and you almost allow yourself to succumb. Almost.

It’s as if suddenly his skin was scalding, and you snatch your wrist from his grasp at lightning speed. The tears that have strayed down your face are wiped away as quickly as they came. The surprise on his face is missed by your eyes because before he can comprehend what is happening, you are bolting down the staircase and out the glass doors of the gallery. No, you cannot forgive him yet. What would you do if he hurt you again? You don’t think you would survive. 

You ignore the pain of seeing his art pieces as you run, now that you know you are the muse behind them all. The only noise is the sound of blood rushing in your ears, and you are oblivious to the racket of Jungkook’s shoes clapping against marble flooring as he chases after you, expertly dodging the other patrons and butlers holding trays of champagne. 

And Jungkook? Well, he is oblivious to the complete turmoil that runs through your every nerve. He only sees your back, and not the way you bite your lip painfully to keep the sobs from escaping. Not the way your pain is exhibited clear as day in the crease of your eyebrow and the wrinkle of your nose. 

The air outside is so cold it bites at your nostrils, but makes it easier to breathe. The wind calms the thundering heart in your chest.

He must be lying. There was no way he had a change of heart now, not when he was so rooted in his belief before. There is no virtual possibility, on any plane of existence, on any dimension where Jeon Jungkook has fallen in love with you. 

Right?

The hand that circles around your wrist tightly to keep you from getting any farther tells you that you are wrong. He did come after you. Jungkook’s strength forces you to stop running, but you can’t find the courage to turn around and face him just yet. But you don’t make an effort to pull away, and he takes it as progress.

“You can run if you want, Y/N. You can walk away from me and from us, but don’t doubt that I’ll always be chasing after you. For as long as it takes.” He is panting and speaking through heavy breaths, but you hear him. Loud and clear. 

“I won’t let you leave again. Not like last time.”

There is no malice. No coldness, and for the first time since you’ve met him, his words feel like warm honey instead of monotone ice. He is utterly distraught when you turn around slowly, hesitant like you’re afraid he will break your heart right then and there. 

His heart shatters at the wetness at your waterline, and the way you look up at him; completely vulnerable and scared. 

“Do you promise?” 

There is a lot of weight in your three-word question. It’s not as innocent as meets the eye, and Jungkook knows it. He feels it. When you ask him if he promises, it is an invitation back to you. You are offering him your heart, which he has already broken and bruised, and trusting him to be careful with it this time around. Jungkook already knows he loves you. And if you let him, he’ll spend the rest of his life making sure this promise remains unbroken. 

“I promise.” 

It’s a commitment. One he used to be terrified of making, but it seems so easy when it’s for you. 

And when you fly forward to wrap your arms around him, Jungkook feels like home. Like the stars twinkle a little brighter and the earth stops spinning for a mere second, just for the two of you. You feel him squeeze you closer, just as tightly, and Jungkook wants to kick himself for depriving you both of a simple thing called love. 

You are here, souls and now bodies intertwined, and Jungkook lets the pain of past hurt fall away. Pain is so miniscule when you are by his side. When you pull back, Jungkook frowns at your red-rimmed eyes, and the tears that still persist. He wipes it away oh so softly, as if you were delicate clay and he, a sculptor. 

“Please don’t cry anymore, princess, it breaks my heart. I’m so sorry.” It is the softest, most sugary tone you’ve ever heard out of him. But hearing affection from his lips makes you feel that perhaps all of this sorrow, this longing, has been worth it. He has been worth it. He always has. 

“I love you, Y/N.” Jungkook’s words are almost as beautiful as he is. 

His lips are familiar when you lean forward and kiss him. Yet they are different. This time, the hands on your waist hold you a bit more carefully, even closer if that were possible. You can feel his thudding heart as it beats against your own, learning to match rhythms with each other, and Jungkook cradles your face in his hand like you are the only artwork he has truly been proud of. 

And it’s true. All the canvases and paints and camera film seem wasted now. Nothing he ever makes will be quite as alluring as the art he holds in his arms in this moment. 

“I love you too, you goddamn idiot.”

You meant it all those months ago, and you mean it now. If Jeon Jungkook was the sun, you would gladly change your name to Icarus. If Jeon Jungkook was the moon, then you are the tides that he pushes and pulls. If Jeon Jungkook belonged to you, well...you don’t have to imagine that anymore. He is your’s, as you are his. 

Old habits die hard, but they are not immortal. They wax and wane, and remind you that in the cosmic vastness of things, you are only human. Humans whose hearts beat in tandem and souls made to complete the other. Humans with identical crescent moons, lost but now found.

Old habits die hard. But you have learned to fix those of a broken heart. 

☾

[justwonder113]

Halu! Saw your post, and I'm looking forward for your future works. Can I request a Dad! haikyuu scenarios? Cause I'm really into that. When he and his pregnant s/o, went to the hospital for feral ultrasound. And the obstetricians revealed there’s 3 heartbeats. Which mean, they are having triplets. I wanna know their reactions so bad 😂 When I think of triplets, I'm thinking those character who most probably have strong genes. (Bokuto, Osamu, Atsumu and maybe, Ushijima?)

Oh my god this is such an adorable scenario. Ngl I keep reminding myself that I'm too young to have kids now (not that I have a bf or anything lol). Thank you very much for requesting, I really hope you will like it.

Hearing that you're going to have triplets

includes: Bokuto Koutaro, Miya Osamu, Miya Atsumu and Ushijima Wakatoshi.

Bokuto Koutaro

Honestly you were so thankful that you had Bokuto with you, he was the most amazing partner you could ask for. Always supportive and kind, never failing to make you feel deeply appreciated and loved.

Especially since he found out you were pregnant. The man was over the moon! You hadn't even finished the sentence he already had you in his arms spinning you around while proclaiming how happy he was.  You felt silly that you were even worried about his reaction. You had never seen him more happy. 

You just knew he would be the most amazing father.

He was always with you and helped you with whatever he could, say goodbye to even holding stuff. Cleaning and sometimes even cooking were immediately off your shoulders. And whenever you tried to tell him that you were more than capable of doing stuff he immediately shushed you saying that he was more than happy to help.

 He didn't know much about pregnancy, tho he read everything with you and listened to you whenever you explained things to him, he just wanted to support you.

I see that he would also change his diet for you. It's important for pregnant women to have a healthy lifestyle during pregnancy. So when he saw that you tried to cut off junk food and other unhealthy food he immediately gave up on them too. If you stopped drinking coffee he would stop to, everything to support you.

When you told him that you had to go to ultrasound to make sure everything was right he immediately called and took a day off. You were so thankful for it, you told him that you could go alone but honestly you were terrified, this was your first pregnancy. You read almost everything and asked so many questions too and did everything you were told, but you were still beyond terrified on what the doctor would say, so having him around was really a big deal.

Especially when you noticed slight furrow on doctor's face. Your grip immediately tightened around his hand. Your mind immediately went to most terrible stuff in seconds, it didn't even cross your mind that you might be having triplets. You wanted to ask what was happening, but you didn't have courage, thankfully Bokuto got the clue and asked what was going on." I had to make sure, congratulations, you will be having triplets, I can hear three completely healthy heartbeats." The doctor beamed at you." Three heartbeats... Triplets..., oh my god Kou we're having triplets!" you couldn't believe your ears, heck you didn't even know what you were even feeling. You were thrilled yes but at the same time... Being mother of one kid seemed already hard, but triplets? Would you do a good job? What about Kou? Was he happy with the news?

You returned to reality after you felt two strong arms wrap around you tightly. Bokuto was beaming like crazy." Oh my god Y/N! We're having triplets!" He cheered loudly, startling both you and the doctor. "That's so amazing! We would have like half of a volleyball team! That's so cool! I never even thought we could have triplets, thank you so much, you really make me happiest!" He kept rambling on and on, pressing millions of kisses on top of your head. You never even realized when you started crying… "You're happy?" You asked quietly, almost a whisper."I'm beyond thrilled baby, this is going to be awesome! Don't worry about anything, we're going to do great you hear me!" He immediately assured you and planted another kiss on your head making you giggle as well. He was right as long you had each other you were not afraid of anything. You would do amazing!

Osamu Miya

I feel like he would be the most amazing husband. Really doting and caring.

Would also really try to help you with everything he could. Both around the house and with whatever you needed. Just imagine being able to taste Samu's cooking every day. (And I just know he would try and come up with new recipes just so he would keep things interesting for you, like you hate some food, and it's hella healthy and is good for pregnancy, you bet your butt he would try and come up with a recipe, so you could eat it that way and not gag. Alsosatisfying your cravings with his cooking would be like a challenge for him, he would be excited to try out new things.)

I think that after you told him the news that you were pregnant he knew that he had to change things. Like he already felt bad when he worked all this long days at his restaurant leading to sometimes neglecting you. He was thinking to hire an assistant, but was reluctant because he didn't think they would do as good of a job as him. But when you told him the news all the hesitation went through the window. Like hell, he was going to leave you alone, especially now that you were pregnant.

You were glad you could spend more time with your husband still you felt guilty because you knew how much his restaurant meant to him, and sometimes you couldn't help but think you were interfering with it. Osamu reassured you million times that it definitely wasn't like that and that he was beyond happy that you were going to be parents even thought you weren't planning it just yet. He never failed to show you how appreciated and loved you were but the thoughts still lingered.

When doctor told you the news you felt your breath hitch. Osamu's grip on your hand tightened. You wanted to look at him for reactions, but you couldn't force yourself. 

You were terrified. What if he wasn't happy, what if he didn't want so many children. Your mind felt like a thread mill, you didn't even notice when the doctor left the room to give you two few minutes. You had your chaos going on in your brain. What if...

your chain of thoughts were interrupted when you felt the pair of lips clash against yours. You let out a startled  noise but returned it. Osamu cupped your cheeks, and rested his forehead against yours.

"Sorry for startling you love."He said and pinched your cheek playfully, giving you a heartfelt smile. "I'm so happy, I don't know what to say." He gave you another peck making you smile. "Three kids! This is going to be amazing love! And I bet your cute butt Tsumu's going to be so jealous!" He snickered and planted yet another kiss on our face. "You have no idea how happy you make me! You're the most amazing thing that has happend to me." The last comment made you crack and you let out all your emotions. Motherhood really scared you especially now that you knew you were going to become a mother of three. But still, you have never felt happier. What more could you ask for? You had the most loving husband and you would have three most amazing children.

"Thank you Samu..." You couldn't even stop your tears now, but you were grinning from ear to ear and Samu was returning the smile.

"No, thank you Y/n. Thank you for being in my life! You're everything I could ever ask for and so much more more. I know you're scared and so am I but we're going to do amazing you got me? Don’t worry your pretty head about anything"  He reassured, you nodded and kissed him passionately, your hands rubbing away his tears. "That's my girl. Come on let's rub it in on Tsumu's face!" He grinned mischievously, making you giggle. 

 He was right you two were going to do amazing, you just couldn't help but wait until you could hold your kiddos in your hands.

Atsumu Miya

If you thought that Atsumu was clingy before you should have seen him now that he heard you were pregnant. He was basically glued to your side.

Not gonna lie the man probably cried when he heard that you were pregnant. And you felt silly that you were worried about his reaction to begin with.

He would try his best to help you with everything, but for the love of god don't let him near the kitchen. (I think out of these four characters he is the worse cook. I headcanon that Osamu learned how to cook because Atsumu couldn't cook at all and it was pretty much pointless to turn to him when he was hungry and there was no food at home, and I'm pretty sure he caused a kitchen fire at least once.)

Really supportive and tries to do everything for you, at some point you really have to make him stop because you can hold your own purce. I can clearly imagine him carrying everything for you, whispering reassuring things and proclamations of love whenever he can.

 And don't let me started about him showing you off. One would think that his amazing pregnant wifey is the only thing that he talkes about. All his social media would be filled with pictures of you too. Just imagine having all those cute photo sessions with him!!! ( Yes I have a baby fever now)

"Congratulations, I hear three completely healthy heartbeats. You're going to have triplets!" The elderly woman announced to you with a warm smile. You just stared at her dumbfounded cuz like 3?  You would have 3 little Atsumus walking all over your house?

Before  you could even react your husband engulfed you in the biggest hug ever, almost knocking you out of the chair. "Oh my god, baby we're going to have triplets it's so amazing! We're going to have three kids! This is so cool!”He gasped as he realized something. “Soon we could have like our own volleyball team! Oh my god, Samu's going to be so jealous. As long as we're out I'm going to rub it in his ugly face!" Let's say you had to drag your hyperactive husband out of the doctor's office after he also almost tacked her too thanking her for the news.

He just wouldn't stop rambling how much he loved you and how thankful he was to have you in his life. And let's say in a matter of minutes everyone knew you two were going to have triplets.

Also let's just say that at some point you really had to shut him up with kisses, because as much as you love him and felt happy he was this amazed, it was still 3 am, and you wanted to sleep

You sure as hell scored yourself one heck of an amazing family.

Ushijima Wakatoshi

Precious baby!!!

He was so happy when you announced him your pregnancy! He spend whole night hugging your belly whispering all the sweet stuff and how he couldn't wait to meet your kid, and how he would teach them everything he knew. You couldn't stop your tears it was such a happy sight.

I just imagine him being on his tippy toes whenever he's around you, bacause he's so large and strong he's fraid he's going to hurt you or the baby.

Also have I said that he would do anything for you? You would be like "Toshi..." And he's like "on it!" No matter which weird craving you have he would bring you everything without a single thought. Your wishes are his top priority.

He would also read books about pregnancy, just so can he know what's happening, and he would also ask you questions so he can understand everything better.

He would also help with your healthy diet, he would bring you all kinds of stuff saying "I heard it's good for pregnant women." (He's such a sweetheart I can't.)

He would also give best massages whenever you feel sore or tired. Anything to make you feel comfortable.

I think that his love language is through acts of service and trust me when I say this, he makes sure you feel loved and appreciated every day.

When the doctor told you the news he gave you the sweetest and warmest smile, immediately washing away all your possible worries. He grabbed your hands and littered them with softest kisses. Muttering to you how happy he was, how he loved you and how much he coudln't wait until they were born with tears on his eyes.

Let's say the doctor had to give you few minutes to yourself because now you were a sobbing mess and were clingling to your husband like your life depended on it. You were just so happy!

The same night he would bring you all sorts of magazines and would help you choose whatever you needed just so the triplets could have the cutest nurcery. (He let you choose anything, he just made comments then and there as he had you in his lap all cutely, snuggled against his chest. His warm hands securely on your belly, softest smile on is face.)

So this is it, I really hope you like it, this was my first time writing headcannons like this; Sorry if it has any mistakes, English is my second language and I still make mistakes. if you have any other requests don't hesitate to ask, I will be glad to write them^^

[hopefullystillatheatrestudent]

i'm so excited about you taking asks again ahhhh okay so. if you'd absolutely had to choose. what would be your top 5 cockles moments, and why? thank you ily <3

here’s the thing: there are so many routes i could go down with this, because cockles moments come in all shapes and sizes and formats. these include moments from their panels, their bloopers, the footage we get when they don’t even know they’re being recorded, stories being passed down from photo ops & autographs(one of my personal favorite ways to get cockles, tbh, because they’re all insane), and social media(tweets to each other, instagram posts & comments, etc.). 

SO! since many a list like this has already been made, and i want to stand out from the crowd, what i’m gonna do is definitively give the number one spot to each of these five categories.(i might even throw in honourable mentions because they’re so despicably in love that they warrant that. i really put my whole pussy into this, guys, i hope you’re happy.) 

disclaimer: these are my own personal opinions. but that also means i’m right. so. enjoy. 

number one: top cockles panel moment

so we’re starting off with a bang, because how do you even BEGIN to rank what atrocities jensen and misha commit at jibcon. every single one they’ve had is damning in it’s own right, for different reasons.

however, considering just how much unabashed fuckery they’ve given us to sift through, it’s a good thing i do have a personal favorite despite it all. it’s heartwarming, the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen, AND it’s jarringly cinematic - mainly because it has a whole ass arc to it that was years in the making. it might even be surprising to some people, but my favorite cockles panel moment, and what i consider the one that encompasses their entire gut-wrenching journey from 2008-2013 in the most sweepingly romantic gesture possible, is this one.

i want this burned into my retinas. i am not even joking. when i'm through with my explanation, let me convince you why this is thee most romantic cockles moment of all time.

first, some history: people call this the resume off, but many seem to forget the botched attempt at a resume off a year prior. and yes, you guessed it: it's during their break up. it's a juicy time period for a reason, guys. it came across as exceedingly one-sided and VERY awkward. let me refresh your memory as to just how bad it was, and just how hard jensen was trying and ultimately failing at winning misha over: the funniest part of the whole resume off in 2013??? every joke/bit had literally already been made/done. they were just going through the motions again, but the difference THIS time...is that misha reciprocated jensen's energy. it. is. fascinating. i want to get into it more detail in another post, and i'll link it here when i'm done, but the main takeaway, i think, and the main difference that showcases how much they've grown in a year, is that in jib 3, misha flat out refused to do an accent, and this time around, he indulges jensen for literal minutes. when i tell you they're crazy, they're crazy. i can't wait to actually dive into it later.

ANYWAY, the resume off culminates in this moment here. and, like, a million things happen in this gifset. actually, more like a million and one. the music starts playingneediremindyouthatthesongissingingintherain(h e l p), misha starts dancing, jensen 'perpetually fake grumpy' ackles lets misha think he's not going to join, misha sits down defeated, but no!!! that was jensen's plan all along(look at his stupid fucking smirk) and he offers his arm to his dance partner who immediately grins like a fool, jensen then leads misha into their kick step, they perfectly synchronise and let loose, and are then very clearly having the time of their lives, hanging off of each other with joy and ease. from their expressions alone i can tell that this moment is so. so. so. so! much more than what initially meets the eye. i mean-misha is fighting back the biggest smile i've ever seen. to me, it reads like jensen is offering something to misha, something that misha kind of gave up on expecting, and him offering his arm like that is like, a surprise to him in the best possible way(and it's so not platonic, let me just say that.) as soon as jensen did that, it ushered in a new era of cockles. this panel is jensen and misha's favourite for a reason, and i think this moment is the biggest clue as to why.

whew!!! ok. that took a lot out of me and that was only point one. moving on,

number two: top cockles blooper moment

cockles bloopers hold an extremely special place in my heart, because it shows just how fucking disastrous jensen and misha are. they are so goddamn infatuated with each other that they HOLD UP PRODUCTION ALL THE TIME TO FLIRT WITH EACH OTHER(???). let me repeat. let it sink in. jensen ackles; arguably one of the most professional actors on that show who puts everything he has into each scene, with mountains and mountains of notes to prove it: would rather hold up production to flirt with misha collins. this sounds fake. it's not. he does it. all. the. time. and here's the thing guys!!! i'm gonna let you in on a secret!!! misha loves it. he loveesssss it. on top of that-misha collins: overlooked because he's pranked and people assume he's unprofessional as well, but his only pranks are in retaliation/off-set, and he rarely if EVER causes problems if he can help it....lets himself get carried away when it comes to jensen making kissy faces at him!!! are you actually kidding me!!! i mean. misha. it's just a face. you've seen it a million times. i don't buy that it triggers something in you that strongly....you like it, and you like jensen's reaction. you can't fool me!!! lisa berry's face in that one gifset shows just how fed up the crew is with their gross, coupley boyfriend antics.

i could pull up so many examples. sooooooo many. but my favourite was sealed since the moment i saw it.

i actually already wrote an analysis on it but i can't find it :(((( which SUCKS because i really unpacked the whole thing. i'll try to summarise.

basically, a backstory is part of this too!!! jensen and misha both had a really really hard time with this scene(because it's explicitly romantic there i said it), they sat down for hours and poured over their scripts together, they were super super nervous going into filming, both of them, jensen especially, were super hard on themselves for their performances not being true to their characters but they both complimented the other's work(boyfriend moments fr). so, yeah. they weren't confident going into shooting. and how do they get themselves to feel better???? by cuddling each other, apparently.

a lot. a LOT. happens in this specific blooper. to the point that i saw it years before i knew about cockles and it raised all sorts of flags for me.

1) stop pulling my face towards your crotch(as a thinly veiled request that misha would, in fact, move jensen's face towards his crotch, considering it was jensen moving himself there in the first place. also, why so comfy down there guys???) 2) you're my baby daddy i know(in the most intimate voice i've ever heard please) 3) i know, i know, i love you too i didn't say i love you i know but you wanted to say it etc. misha's right, of course. that's what jensen meant.

it just reeks of comfort, familiarity and intimacy between the two, and it's a moment that is extremely sweet and silly at the same time. they're so <3

number three: top cockles found footage moment

WONDERFUL category. truly the culmination of the cockles experience. many people have said that shipping cockles doesn't work because 'they're just onstage you dummies!! they're playing it up for the audience!!!' here's the thing, love. i could not disagree with you more. once you climb your way up the cockles ladder, you soon learn that they are, in fact, playing their dynamic DOWN, not up. they really are just Like That™, and they could not care less about the paying audience, if we're being honest, considering how much time they take to giggle with each other and refuse to let the audience in on the joke. and i love them for it <3

anyway, my point is that this category is for all you naysayers out there, all you 'jensen and misha's relationship is just for show and is real life queerbaiting'(?????lordhelp???) oh yeah? ok, explain this.

he. he. he calls jensen sweetheart. literally enough said. there's nothing to really add here, except, misha and jared then immediately engage in damage control. jared's method is distraction and misha's is retconning('get out of the car, dude') this was what got me to buy into the cockles dumpster for GOOD good. you don't call your buddy sweetheart accidentally and sound so completely earnest while doing it! especially not when that buddy is jensen ackles!!! you think he would let any of his friends call him that? do you?

one more thing; if it was a slip of the tongue, little mouth thing or whatever, you think jared wouldn't have jumped on it immediately??? i can hear it now. 'did you just call him SWEETHEART???' yeah. that's what i thought. you know why he didn't? because it was too revealing.

number four: top cockles autograph moment

i mean, i think we all know what it's gonna be, and if you don't, well, do i have the piece de cockles resistance that is gonna send you over the edge.

if you haven't heard of this story by now, as a cockles, truther, i'm gonna go ahead and get you to read it, because there is no possible heterosexual explanation for any of it, and you're fooling yourself if you think otherwise.

spoiler alert: it's the story where phones weren't allowed in an auto session, jensen nuzzles himself in misha's hair, leans his full body weight onto him, holds his hand, etc. etc. i'm imploding just repeating this back, actually. also, just, the sheer amount of stories from photo ops where they tackle hug each other or slap each other's asses or sing romantic songs to each other or almost kiss is, frankly, a lot. if i could wish for anything, it would be to witness them in person.

and finally,

number five: top cockles social media moment

this one is super difficult, because there's obviously a lot to choose from. but you know what? full send, i'm going with this one:

i just. what to say about this. how often do misha and jensen watch sunsets together for it to qualify as ‘always’ ??? why are sunsets synonymous with their relationship??? that’s like??? a very romantic thing????? ‘this guy’??? the fact that it’s a CANDID??? i don’t know guys.

that could have been better but i am TIRED so. there you go rose ily

[mandareeboo]

SU Music Rankings

Bc I can and I wanna start some Disk Horse rip. These are all in order of preference, with explanations, etc. It’s a long bitch. That said, I’m not counting little short jingles or small joke songs like Little Butler. This is the meat and potatoes of SU music- just under 30 songs. I might do the rest if people like my takes lol.

I scored it mostly on three bases- how dear it was to my heart, how much/often I relisten to it, and also what it means to the plot. That said, little fun songs don’t automatically go farther down than big, plot-heavy songs either! It’s a strange little balance.

Special Note: I don’t dislike any of this music! I love SU and that includes its bumps and glitches. I just pick favorite children lol.

1.) Change

Was there ever a more Steven moment than when he wiped the blood off his face and kissed it into sparkles? I think not. 

If “Be Wherever You Are” is an ode to young Steven, then this is teen Steven’s. Talking about change, and how much and how little it can do. How he holds his arms up for Spinel to hug him, so trusting. How he seems able to just. Break into soft tears at will, and not to be manipulative- it’s just his kind nature. The warmth in his voice. Fuck yesssss.

2.) Change Your Mind

This song is only fifty five seconds and it’s EVERYTHING to me. It really felt like someone was speaking the words I’d always held deep inside of me, unsure of how to say. It feels like a goodbye to someone who never really loved me. 

As much as I enjoyed Future, if this was the finale of SU, I would’ve been perfectly okay with that.

3.) Drift Away

This song gave me legitimate shivers the first time I heard it, and it still haunts me to this day. Spinel stayed, and waited, and all she got was a transmission thousands of years later. Fuck.

4.) Here We Are In The Future

THE MOVIE IS SU AS ITS BEST AND I WON’T BE SWAYED ON IT. Steven being a teen who loves his weird family but is growing just a bit sarcastic to their drama. The adorable love he and Connie share. His slow realization that he will always be working, always have things to do, is both somber and real. The Crystal Gems won’t be safe with one epic battle. They’ll be safe with years of hard work and love. HIS LITTLE HANDSHAKE WITH AMETHYST.

This is a helluva bop and a great way to summarize the main character’s backstories.

5.) Let’s Only Think About Love

Did ya’ll know that Zach Callison killed his throat with that last note? He gave his all for this performance in a vocal range he no longer comfortably do and by god did it SHINE. The FLAIR. The FORESHADOWING. All of the Gems all being awkward about Rose and Steven trying to bring them to the present. Peridot having a mini-existential crisis in a cute yellow dress. I love Zach Callison’s normal singing voice but man is that a fucking bop. Nothing will ever beat it.

6.) Here Comes A Thought

This bad boy helped me out a LOT with some mental issues I was dealing with in high school. I was unmedicated, unsupervised, and full of anxiety. I’d have break downs when I tried to speak about certain things. I couldn’t function. This song inspired me. It helped me feel okay with my intrusive thoughts.

And the episode! -chef’s kiss-. Once again bringing up the morally gray area of training child soldiers. Connie expanding her social group. Steven’s trauma hauling ass in that second half. The ANIMATION. Stevonnie’s gorgeous singing voice. GOD yes.

7.) It’s Over Isn’t It?

Just barely squeaking above Stronger Than You, this ballad is everything gorgeous. The whole episode is. I think Mr. Greg stands in the top five of my episodes for the entire show. It even got nominated!

There’s just so much about this song that I love. The gentle melancholy of Pearl’s voice. How the crew had to redo the shots for this bit bc Deedee went so fucking hard. The hard cuts between Pearl, remembering the love of her life, and Steven, who has begun to feel like he took her away. I’d recommend this song to anyone, regardless of what they do or don’t know about SU, simply bc it tugs so many heartstrings of love, loss, and responsibility.

8.) Stronger Than You

Did you realize this episode aired SEVEN years ago? This bitch was what got me into SU! Hearing about Ruby and Sapphire made my little gay heart so happy inside, and then getting a whole song confirming that they were a couple, that their love powered the strongest Gem on the team? Aaaaaaaaa

To this DAY I get excited when I hear Estelle start singing. This song is timeless. This song will live in media history. God I fucking love this song.

9.) Other Friends

I’m not the biggest musical person, so I hadn’t heard of Sarah Stiles before her casting as Spinel, but JESUS CHRIST the lady went hard. She went SO fucking hard. Sarah Stiles started on 100 and somehow just kept CLIMBING. You can just hear the sheer manic energy building in her voice, the anger and resentment. 10/10 Sarah Stiles is a queen.

10.) Independent Together

This made the list entirely bc the crew was like “you’re gonna get a himbo ass Steven-Greg fusion singing with Opal while Garnet flies across the moon on Lion while floating” and I am forever thankful to them for it

11.) Who We Are

Bismuth deserved more songs. ‘Nuff said.

12.) Peace and Love (On the Planet Earth)

It Could’ve been Great is EASILY one of my favorite s2 episodes. I love the entire concept of this song. Of Steven making music to reflect how much Earth means to him and his family. Of him teaching Peridot some self-care. Also Peridot’s singing voice is really cute and squeaky. 

I know it’s silly, but I would’ve really enjoyed a flip around of this in Future! Like Peridot reminding Steven how much he loves music, that he needs to take time to relax for himself, maybe with a new verse or just a remix of the original song!

13.) Something Entirely New

I watched this episode as it aired, and I legitimately almost cried. I love Charlyne Yi’s voice so much ya’ll- her raspy, not perfect singing voice against Sapphire’s deep soothing lull is great.

And to have Ruby and Sapphire’s meeting be the way it was- for Ruby to bemoan Sapphire losing Homeworld, to being stuck with a single Ruby, while Sapphire is a noble who has always been taught everyone in her “caste” is vitally important (and has, in her own mind, taken that to mean every Gem, as she should) and how they come together and make each other happy. Good shit good shit.

14.) I’m Just a Comet

The fact that Greg’s music career never really blasted off pisses me off to this day bc Tom Scharpling’s voice is fucking BUTTER. Also the song really feels like a jab at his parents now that we know the kind of dynamic he had growing up. “This life in the stars if all I’ve ever known” is definitely him wiping away their existence after reminding them (and himself) the things they used to say about him.

15.) Do It For Her

This episode. This fucking episode. This episode got me permanently hooked on SU. I’d just binged season 1 and was kinda meh about it overall after the bop of Stronger Than You. “Oh,” I thought to myself, foolishly, “I’ll probably just casually watch this from time to time.”

Like three days later Sworn to the Sword aired and that was it. I was hooked! Pearl’s gentle training song turning darker and darker, Connie’s accompaniment from nervous to determined to fully into such a toxic mindset. The fact that SU had the BALLS to discuss the repercussions of training child soldiers, now and later. This episode was everything to me, STILL is everything to me.

Six years and well over 100 fanfics written later, I think it’s safe to say this show swallowed me whole and never let go.

16.) System/Boot.pearl_final(3)

I debated putting this on the list because it’s not anything crazy important, just a way to show things are Wrong, but I had to do it entirely bc Pearl is so damn SALTY.

Like telling us about the Gems makes sense, she felt like she was given a duty, but she went so damn petty. WHY is that Ruby alone. Gross. This Amethyst is a trash dump. Wtf are you people.

17.) Full Disclosure

This episode really feels like a turning point for SU. Before, the show had its dark moments- but now we’re in the thick of it, and it’s not going away. Full Disclosure felt like an rebuff to the idea of returning to any normal we’d established in season 1. Gems are actually a giant species now. Gems tried to kill us now. There’s this Yellow Diamond bitch who got namedropped. Something about a Cluster. 

The song itself is BALLER, with its ingenious use of Steven’s ringtone and photos as he tries to decide whether to clue in Connie on all this nonsense. Meanwhile we, the audience, already know damn well Connie about to yeet some common sense into him.

18.) What’s the Use of Feeling Blue?

I’mma admit it- I’m a Yellow Diamond stan. I’ve always loved her- her anger, her poise, her hardworking nature. I actively argued against the “Yellow Shattered Pink” theories back in the day. But, man, when this arc leaked? I got so overexcited I was too jittery to watch it for like two days. It’s easily my favorite arc of the series. The sheer alien nature of the zoo, the Famethyst, and absolutely Patti Lupone’s beautiful ballad. Goddamn. Yellow singing to Blue to try and help her regain her old status, the warble in her voice as she reminds Blue she misses Pink too, the movement of the bubbles as she talks about attack. It gives me shivers to this day. FUCK.

19.) Tower of Mistakes

This is, fun fact, that only SU song I have completely memorized. The story itself is kinda funny! See, we lost internet at my house for a solid 5 to 6 months when these episodes aired, so I only got a very brief window to view them all. But this was the first Amethyst song in a long while, and I didn’t want to forget it! So I keep replaying it in my head for ages. And that’s still definitely a thing.

Anyway will never not be sad that this entire song was about making it up to Garnet for Amethyst’s perceived slights with Sugilite (which was a two-way road), only for Garnet to pressure her into fusion later when pissed and never discuss it again bc Garnet probably never thought twice about it and Amethyst has the emotional openness of a clam that’s just been told its ugly. Helluva way to make someone feel like shit, G. Helluva way to bottle that shit, Ames.

20.) On the Run

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: Amethyst! Needed! More! Songs! 

The dichotomy between Steven’s play and Amethyst’s honest desire to run away from home is so well-done, especially when you consider a lot of Steven and Amethyst’s actions are playing together. The song is also near and dear to me simply bc it’s my favorite Amethyst episode to exist (well, maybe second to What’s Your Problem, but not by much). Moments like these are all the proof I need that they were right to fuse first.

21.) Be Wherever You Are

This tune really just feels like an ode to who Steven was as a kid. Trapped on an island with no way home, and he’s just happy to be with his friends. The stars are beautiful and not oppressive. Also that one animatic with Lars and the Off Colors playing in the Homeworld Kindergarten to this music was iconic and made this song get stuck in my head for a solid month.

22.) Familiar

I ADORE how the crew use bright neon colors to show how alien Homeworld can be. And Steven recognizing that the Diamonds treat him how the CGs used to, and how prepared he is to “fix” a broken family. It’s a soft, gentle tune about melancholy. Also the Pebbles are beautiful.

23.) Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart

Such a cute little love ballad, but every time I listen to it now I just imagine the heart attack Rose must’ve had at the line “And if we look out of place/Well, baby, that's okay/I'll drive us into outer space.” like there’s a Vietnam war flashback if I ever heard one

24.) What Can I Do?

I’m kind of neutral on this one? Rose and Greg both have great voices, but the song itself lacks many lyrics. I think it was definitely a good way to show Rose’s flaws in thinking.

Also, I’m shocked they managed cram that much vaguely sexual innuendo into two minutes, followed by how Not Hetereo that dance between Rose and Pearl was, and not get their asses chewed by it. You go guys.

25.) Cookie Cat

I love a lot of the vibes this song has. The lyrics are so damn prophetic, but they also sound like the kind of weird 90s commercials I grew up on. It’s been like two decades since I saw the Shirley Temple commercial but I’ll be damned if I don’t remember “Animals crackers in my soup! Monkey and rabbits loop-de-loop.”

26.) Giant Woman

I am. NOT the biggest fan of Steven’s original singing voice. I feel bad saying that, since it was just Zach Callison as a kid, but he never jived well with me for some reason. So I wouldn’t listen to this on the fly. 

The song itself is still really good though, with all sorts of fun animation of Amethyst and Pearl being bitchy to each other. It’s a bit sad in hindsight to see tiny Steven trying to get his moms to get along. Ahh, season 1.

27.) Strong in the Real Way

This song has SUCH a strong start. Pearl reflecting on Sugilite’s problems, but the show making sure to show us that Pearl’s lack of enthusiasm towards her also lends itself to jealousy as well as just general malaise. How much she cares about Steven, and wants him to grow up strong. 

And then Steven just kinda. Ruins it? I appreciate his enthusiasm for tryna bulk up but to take what was starting as such a rich, personal song and broadcasting it to random strangers just makes me a bit sad. Almost a bit angry on her behalf?

28.) That Distant Shore

I KNOW this is gonna create some discourse, but I’m just not the biggest Lapis stan. I love her voice. I love the visuals of the song. And I get why she felt afraid and needed to flee.

But Lapis never got to take responsibility for her own actions. And, in the end, the song feels hollow to me- because we all know she’ll never talk to anyone about it, know she’ll burst back in and destroy the barn, and no one will ever question it. I like Lapis a lot, but I feel like her arc never was fully finished. She never got help. She never learned to feel safe.

29.) Dear Old Dad

I’ve yet to meet a single human being who likes this episode tbh. There’s some great discussion about what kind of parent Greg is from it, and what kind of dynamic he has with the Gems that he felt he had to fake an injury to hang out with his son. Honestly the first half was fine and dandy. It’s just that then they Greg just went out of his way to drag Steven away from missions and such. It never jived well with his character before or after.

Also, is it just me, or does Zach himself sound like he hates the song as he sings it? There’s no passion or heart in his voice. It sounds like they told him to read off cue cards and he did. Tom Scharpling’s best attempts didn’t save this one for being a skipper. But the episode, unfortunately, isn’t, so it gets a spot on here.

[princessofprocrastination]

I Messed Up, Didn’t I? (Dream)

MASTERLIST

PART ONE!

pairing : dreamwastaken x singer!reader

summary :  after the breakup, he sees that you’re growing as a singer, while he’s suffering alone, but you don’t think that about him, seeing he’s growing on youtube. (PART TWO)

a/n : aaannnddd here’s the final part! 

a full year passes. 

you thought the pain in your chest would leave after a while. but maybe it doesn’t work that way since clay and you were together for a couple years. 

you were kept busy with the voice each week, every weekday, you were told to keep working on a new album. 

but whenever you had time alone in your house, you couldn’t help but think about it all. 

the cuddles on his gaming chair whenever you felt lonely at times while he played his games. 

or when you’d care for him whenever he would get sick since he would act like a baby. 

or that time when you both went to get fast food at 4am in the morning because you craved something that would be bad for you. 

or the little banters or debates you two would have about politics. 

or when he’d dive on the bed on top of you when he was in need of cuddles. 

it all comes back to the reason you broke up. 

you didn’t blame him. you didn’t blame yourself. 

you didn’t know who to blame. you couldn’t blame the internet since you got your job from it too. 

you were glad that you found a job that was your hobby. whenever you were mad or sad, you’d write it down, and send it to your team, and suddenly, it would become a song. 

you are glad that you have such supportive team and found yourself amazing friends. 

speaking of friends, you bought tickets for your two bestfriends to come see you and live with you for a while. 

you told them that you needed the companion and that your house has too many empty guest bedrooms that are waiting for people to sleep in. 

they accepted the invite and offered to buy their own tickets since you were already giving them a place to stay, but you told them you had already bought them tickets and that they didn’t have to worry about it. 

you knew they could afford it, they were just too humble to say it to their fans, but you knew better. 

hours before you had to pick them up from the airport, you made sure their rooms were fully ready. you picked the bedrooms most closest to yours because why not right? 

what those two didn’t know was that you had bought full gaming sets for them, monitors, keyboards, a pretty nice gaming chair. it was a pretty nice gaming set up, if you say so yourself. 

you bought them because you knew that those two cannot live a day without playing games or streaming. 

at first, they were hesitant on coming since you told them to stay for a couple months. they both knew they had to stream and post on their channels. it’s their jobs, after all. 

but you assured them that you’d find a way and to not worry about anything, and just worry about getting on that plane on time. 

you saw the time, took a photo of the gaming set up as you took a photo of sapnap’s earlier and walked out of george’s room, grabbing your car keys and leaving for the airport. 

you parked your car in the airport carpark and quickly went to the arrival hall to find those two crackheads. 

you were almost jumping at how excited you were. you couldn’t believe that this was going to be your first time meeting them ever. 

you waited at the side, making sure you still had a view of the automatic sliding doors of the arrival hall. 

you heard someone calling your name from behind you. as you turn your head, you saw a masked man holding a camera that was pointed at you. 

paparazzi’s can be annoying at times but you actually knew this guy pretty well and he is definitely not annoying. 

“what are you doing here?” the man asked you. 

“what do i look like i’m doing in front of the arrival hall, hm?” you sassed him a little, laughing towards the end of your sentence. 

“okay, who are you waiting for then?” he asked again.

your phone pinged a notification from the groupchat of you, george and sapnap. 

“just wait and see, they’ll come soon.” you told him, winking at the camera. 

you saw the two walk out of the automatic doors and you jumped slightly on your feet, waiting for them to come closer before you could give them the biggest hug. 

it didn’t take them long to spot you. you attracted a lot of attention, with the man with a very large camera next to you. 

as they came closer with their noticeably large luggage, you couldn’t wait anymore, running towards them to give them a bear hug. 

as you crashed into the two, they fell slightly back from the impact. 

you could hear the loud camera shutters as you hug two of your bestfriends. 

you three hugged for a while more before you moved off to answer some questions from the line of paparazzi’s.

you felt bad for attracting the crowd. people must be so confused on what’s happening. 

you three answered some questions, until you couldn’t wait anymore, you were excited to show them their room. the anticipation was killing you. 

“sorry, i think we need to go. i can’t wait to show them their rooms.” you told the line of paparazzi’s in front of you. 

a string of questions came out, asking what rooms and where and why was i so excited. 

“you’ll see soon, stay tuned on our social medias!” you told them before pulling your two bestfriends’ hands to walk out the airport to your car. 

they said their goodbyes and walked by you to your car, confused on why you had been so excited. 

george sat at the front with you, sapnap at the backseat. 

“dude, you own such a cool car.” sapnap said, admiring the details of your car. 

“close the door and you’ll see something cooler.” you told him. 

to which he closed his side of the door and waited. he looked up onto the car roof to see that there are stars on them. they light up as the car doors were closing. 

“holy shit damn.” george said, looking up as well. 

as you drove back home, you three caught up with each other’s lives. 

you found out that they still had been anxious about not posting anything for a couple months, but they’re happy to see you and stay with you. you smiled to yourself knowing how happy they’d be later. 

“i just can’t wait to see your house, honestly.” george said, from beside you. 

sapnap let out a big laugh, you and george soon following after. 

you parked in front of your house’ front door while the two stared in awe that their bestfriend lives in such a house. they’d often forget that they’re friends with such a rich singer. they only saw you as their friend, not someone famous. 

you laughed at the two, before exiting your car, to get their luggage from the back of the car. 

while they were still looking at your house, you took their bags out one by one, carrying some into the house. 

“you wanna come in or not?” you asked the two. 

they snapped out of their trance, taking their bags before following you to inside the house. 

“what the fuck.” “holy shit this is amazing.” were what the two said when they walked in. 

“so since we’re here, let’s put your bags into your rooms before we go get food. you guys can go shower too if you want, there are bathrooms in your rooms.” you told them, excited to see their reactions of the rooms. 

“there are bathrooms in our bedrooms? dude game over i’m moving in.” sapnap told you, still in awe of the house. 

you lead them to one of their room, telling them which room was which behind closed doors, not opening the door yet. you told them that your room was between theirs and if they needed anything, to ask you. 

you stopped at sapnap’s room, on the left of your room, and told them to wait. 

“before i open this door, i just wanted to say that i appreciate you guys dropping everything to come here. so here’s a little something for you two, i definitely didn’t forget about your jobs.” you explained to the two before opening the door. 

as you opened it slowly, you saw that they were confused. they still had no clue. good. 

sapnap’s gaming setup lit up as you opened the door, making the room look like a tiktok room. 

“holy- no way. you didn’t” sapnap said, turning to you, still in shock. 

“uh yeah i did, and there’s one of george in his room too.” you told them. 

“WHAT? no you didn’t.” george screamed in your ear. 

“go look in your room. i’m not lying.” you told him. 

he runs to open his room door, leaving his bags in front of sapnap’s room. sapnap and you followed to see his room. 

as george opened his door, his room too, lit up, just like sapnap’s.

“NO FREAKING WAY.” george jumped at his position in his room, staring at his set up in awe. 

“i had to, you guys dropped everything to be here. you still need to make videos. tell me what’s missing and it’ll come tomorrow.” you told the two boys, who were still in shock. 

“WHAT’S MISSING?, this is more than enough, thank you!” the two said in unison before running to you to give you the biggest hug. 

-

after that whole fiasco, the two boys got right into work with setting it up. you left them for the moment as you went to the kitchen to get dinner going. 

you thought since they just reached california after a long flight, they might not have the energy to drive all the way out to get dinner, so you just settled with making them dinner. 

while waiting for your pasta to cook and chicken to fry, you went on your phone. 

you weren’t surprise to see people shocked to see that sapnap and george flew to meet you. your feed was filled with photos and videos of your interactions in the airport. 

you smiled seeing the cute photos, screenshotting a few to post on your own instagram. 

you remembered the gaming setup photos that you took. you opened instagram to post them o your instagram story, along with videos of their reactions of seeing them. only in a matter of seconds, your tagged photos sky rocketed. 

now they knew that the two boys would definitely stay for longer. 

-

dream knew what was going on. he was tagged in a lot of the photos. your fans thought he was there too, for some reason. some knew dream wasn’t there but asked why he wasn’t there. 

dream was happy to see that his friends are happy with you. they might as well move in with you. 

dream knows that you hated staying at home alone. maybe that’s why you called the two over to stay with you. 

with the gaming setups, dream knew the two boys would stay for a while. he felt a pang in his chest. 

he wanted to meet you. he wanted to make things right again. not because he saw you happy without him, not because he saw how successful you have become, not because he saw how happy you were with his friends but not him, but because he felt alone without you. he needed you. 

-

you could hear george and sapnap screaming. you smiled, knowing that they were probably streaming or recording something, along with dream since you heard them scream “dream” a ton of times. 

they had to eat lunch so you brought it upstairs to their room, knowing they won’t end their gaming anytime soon.

you knocked on sapnap’s door first. seeing as he’s not using his facecam, you walked in and put his plate of food next to his keyboard, along with a bottle of his favourite drink. 

he thanked you as he told his chat what was going on. you ruffled his hair as you walk out his room, to george’s.

you didn’t bother knocking his door since you knew he was too deaf to hear it anyways. you slowly opened the door, not wanting to interrupt his stream and nicks.

he notices you coming in. “hi! come here!” he told you. 

you smiled at him, walking towards his desk, with the plate of food and bottled drink in your hands. 

“i just came to gave you lunch cause i know you too well.” you told him, almost sarcastically. 

“awh, oh my god thank you, this looks so good.” he thanked you just like nick did. 

“my chat wants to say hi.” he tells you. 

knowing he has his facecam turned on, you walked to him to stand behind his chair to wave at the camera. 

“so this is my favourite person in the world.” george said to his chat, pointing to you. 

you blushed and put your hand up to cover your mouth at how cute that was. roll in the ship comments. 

“i’m leaving you with the ship comments, gogy.” you told him as you walked to the door. 

-

a couple more weeks go by, and the two idiots are still living with you. they actually are thinking about staying here for good. to which they asked you if that’s okay. 

obviously you would let them stay here for good, you loved the company. 

they were your distraction to everything going on. the heartbreak, the hurt that never left your chest. they were all still there and you didn’t know how to get rid of them. but for now, your two bestfriends were there for you. 

lately you have been getting flower and chocolate arrangements to your doorstep. at first you thought it might be the boys trying to do something nice but they had told you that they wouldn’t have even thought about being that romantic. 

you laughed it off and set it aside. the flowers did look good in your living room, after all. unless it was from a stalker fan, you didn’t mind it. you found it a little romantic. 

-

george and sapnap knew exactly what they were doing. the moment they found out your address, they sent it to dream. they knew clay deserved everything that has happened to him. but at the end of the day, he is still their friend, and they can’t abandon him. 

everyday of the week. flowers arrangements came. you asked george multiple times if he knew what was going on. 

he was the only recent person you remember telling your obsession of flower arrangements to. 

at first, he told you he didn’t have a clue, and soon enough, he cracked. he told you he knew, but it was your task to find out who. 

the first couple days of knowing that, you tried brushing it off, making yourself busy with music or cooking for the two boys. but soon enough, you couldn’t run away from it anymore. you were curious. 

a full month after your first flower arrangement came to your doorstep, you heard a knock on your door. since you thought maybe you had a package, you didn’t think much of it. 

you were surprised to see the person in front of your front door. 

dream. 

it was your ex boyfriend. 

what was he doing here? you haven’t seen him in so long, that seeing him felt weird. he was on the internet but his face wasn’t plastered on his profiles. 

“what are-” your question was cut off by him. 

“just please listen to me first. i swear i will give you all the time in the world to talk later but please, for now, just listen to me.” 

your actions stopped. it was as if your brain stopped functioning. 

you hesitantly nodded to him, signaling him to continue. 

“i’ve waited so long for this. i’ve stayed in that house we first shared alone while you moved here, to pursue your passion. i saw you all over the billboards, all over my phone, my computer, even the flyers outside my house had your face on it.” you laughed at the end. 

“but i chose not to do anything just yet, i wanted to see you happy, happy with your career, even if it meant me not being by your side to support you. i am incredibly proud to see that you’ve grown into such an amazing and successful woman.” you goes again. 

“but i don’t think i can wait any longer. everyone thinks i’ve been happy with my own life, but how can i be happy, when i still live with the guilt of taking advantage of your kindness, taking you for granted. how can i live happily with the guilt of letting you go that day?” he continues again. you try to keep your face emotionless, trying not to cry. 

“i know it feels so sudden, me coming here. but i can’t live anymore not having you anymore. please, take me back?” he finishes, tears going down him cheeks. 

you started to tear up, almost sobbing.

“why did it have to take this long, stupid?” you whined, running to hug him. 

he moved back slightly from the impact, not expecting you to talk to him, yet touch him . 

you two heard your two bestfriends come down the stairs, laughing and faking their vomits from behind your backs. 

“i fucking knew it. you two are so sneaky.” you rolled your eyes. 

-

time flies by fast. a whole year has passed. one whole year since dream knocked on your door. one whole year since he has moved in with you and the other two boys. 

yes, living with three boys can be super chaotic, but you liked it. you absolutely love the joy it brings you, even if they often steal your snacks from the pantry.

oh yeah, you had to get a full gaming set up for dream too, for making him jealous with george. 

[creativeashproductions]

A Distant Dream II // Luke Patterson

Summary: In 1994 seventeen year old Luke Patterson had once again tried to ask out the girl that held his heart. With the belief he would see the younger Mercer girl the next morning he decides wait to confess his feelings. Only to have soft music bewitched the reader into an antique wardrobe with lots of history.

Warnings: Swearing, talk of pregnancy, cops, strict parents, and angst 

Words: 3.1k

A/N: I’m thinking maybe four or five more parts following this. I really fell back into a Narnia hole recently.

Part One

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

Julie Molina didn't mean to snoop in Luke's things at all, but her elbow had bumped his backpack to the ground. A worn picture had escaped the open bag to float next to her foot. Her deft fingers picked the photo of Alex standing with a girl laughing at something out of frame. The jacket the girl wore was familiar to Julie as she had seen Luke wear it.

Her throws furrowed as she turned the picture to the back to see the writing on the back in legible black sharpie.

Y/N and Alex Mercer, Downtown Los Angeles 1993

Julie's took a guess that the girl was-

"What the hell Julie?" Luke's furious tone took the girl by surprise, but it was the rush to yank the picture from her hand. The guitarist flooded with the familiar grief that was never too far from his mind, it had been one a year to him instead of twenty-six.

The picture was cradled in the guitarist's hands as he pinned a nasty glare on his living friend as if she had kicked his puppy. Behind him stood Alex and Reggie becoming quiet at the picture in Luke's hand. The tears started to fill Alex's eyes as he vividly remembered the night when the picture had been taken.

Alex slung his arm around his sister's shoulders with the identical grin on display as Bobby and Reggie slumped over a paper. You had a feeling it was a song that Reggie had written and Bobby loved being able to give his input on the music. Something he didn't get to do with Luke. With that name in mind, you turned to the guitarist lazing around on a couch.

The band had finished a three-song set for a local club that often turned their cheek to minors walking in. It had taken a lot of manoeuvring, but you had been able to sneak inside to add the band to the list.

"Can you believe this?" Alex gleefully laughed, looking around the packed backstage room they had snagged. They had it for another five minutes, and the band ate it up as if they had already made it in the business.

"I can't believe you guys actually made this happen." You breathed before a laugh escaped your mouth at Reggie, pulling a face at you. The blinding flash bringing your attention to the boy holding the camera you had received as a gift.

"Always a great candid with you!" Luke announced shoving the camera in his backpack with a cheeky grin aimed directly at you, "We better split before security catches us."

"I thought they knew we were here!" Alex exclaimed rushing to grab his things with all bad ideas conjuring in his head. Being in the band annoyed your parents so if he ended up arrested he'd be shipped off to a behavioural boarding school.

He saw himself in a prison cell after being arrested. His mind going to the worst-case scenario instead of only being kicked out instead.

"If you knew the truth, you wouldn't have been able to sit still." Luke retorted as the sound of footsteps sounded outside the room. Luke's eyes scanning the room for any kind of solution to their problem.

 With no safe exit, the five teenagers shuffled into the small bathroom with a big window that opened. Luke was quick to push Bobby and Reggie out first. He went next stationing himself to catch you before Alex was pacing in the bathroom alone.

"C'mon man!" Luke whispered to the blonde drummer glancing between the open window and the door separating him from security.

"If our parents have to pick us up from the cops, we are dead, Luke!" Alex hissed wincing at the loud knock on the door, "They barely condone being a band let alone getting arrested. We'd be in boarding school before you could say Orpheum!"

"Then get your ass down here!" Luke retorted jumping in place as Alex debated his options, but he slipped out the window with a sigh. The group running off with the sound of security hanging out the window screaming at the teenagers. His hand encased in Y/N Mercer's own soft hand.

"That's Y/N." Alex's voice was soft to the Puerto Rican's ears with his eyes a more delicate blue giving Julie the impression he was mostly lost in thought, "My little sister."

Julie's eyes shifted between the three ghostly boys all quieter than anything Julie had ever encountered with them. The only other time Julie had seen Luke so sad was when Alex and Reggie brought her to Luke's childhood home. It was unsettling to see the usual happy go lucky boy drained of energy.

"Did you find her?" Julie asked recalling that Alex had been the only one so far to not attempt to find his family. Reggie had told Julie how his house turned into a bike shack but other than that the subject wasn't brought up.

"She disappeared in 1994." Luke choked out, clenching his eyes tight at the last smile he saw on your face. The one that was seared in his mind with the regret of never taking his chance with you.

Twenty-six years didn't wipe the deep feelings he still held for the girl who had disappeared with his heart. Attempts to find her futile leaving her state just as unknown as back in the '90s. The case had been long cold with the years erasing her memory from people as they moved on.

"Did she-"

"We don't know. One night she just disappeared with no clues." Reggie supplied finding himself to be the only one able to speak. Luke and Alex overtook by the flood of grief and guilt that came every time they grew strong enough to mention her name.

"I can look for her if you want." Julie offered to the trio, "If she's living she may have social media. More likely Facebook with her age but if I can get-"

"No." Luke and Alex spoke at the same time with equal passion in their voices, but it was Luke that continued, "I don't want to know."

Julie's lips parted, but Luke already left with Alex in tow by the grasp on his distressed jean jacket. The Mercer boy sending a smile of gratitude, leaving Reggie alone with her.

"I'd like to know." Reggie softly spoke, meeting the gaze of the living girl, "Maybe that's why we're here too. To find the truth about her disappearance and if we find something, we can tell them."

The shadowed pain in his eyes creating a yearning in Julie's heart, "Of course. Can you tell me about her? I could build a portfolio on possible places she's been."

"Her disappearance was a catalyst for a lot of things that happened." Reggie admitted breaking his usual carefree and clueless demeanour, "Alex and Y/N aren't twins. She was a year younger than us but where one sibling went, so did the other. They understood each other more than the band could ever know."

"Why hasn't Alex talked about her?"

"It's hard. The world in the '90s is very different from this time. We've mentioned bits and pieces of our lives, but you don't know the darker pieces."

Julie listened intently as Reggie was the most serious she had ever seen him, showing her that there was more to Reggie Peters than he let on. Julie felt honoured he trusted her enough to drop his guard that he held up strong.

"Mr. and Mrs. Mercer had certain beliefs that their family should hold and show the rest of the world. Before the band, Alex and Y/N were shells of their real selves laced into designer clothing, perfect grades, charity galas and their futures already written."

"So, they came from money? Galas and designer clothing." Julie rolled her eyes, "What was so bad about that?"

"Just because they had money didn't mean they weren't suffering. Anything less than 98% was a failure to Mr. Mercer. By the time Y/N was thirteen, she was trained on how to be a perfect lady. Alex wasn't supposed to play the drums, both he and Y/N were classically trained on piano and violin." Reggie recalled, "The first time Alex held drumsticks it was like he shattered the glass window of the tank he was drowning in."

"What about Y/N?" Julie questioned, wrapping her arms around her knees as she watched Reggie melted into the memories he fondly held dear in his heart.

"She stayed in her tank drowning, so Alex didn't have to be alone." Reggie simply replied a fond smile reappearing at the days you would dedicate to solely to him.

Reggie didn't like to talk about the things that went on behind the doors of his idyllic beach house. You just knew and gave him days that let him step out of the fear of the unknown. He didn't have to put up his front like he did with the guys, he got to be unapologetically Reginald Peters. The boy that had wished his parents would stop fighting and be that happy family once more, but his wishes never got answered.

"She sounds like a really cool person."

"Luke and she had this unspoken relationship that never evolved into more. Both too scared the other didn't feel the same. The night she disappeared, he was going to tell her he loved her. When it didn't happen, he was going to do it the next morning."

 "But she was never found. What do you think happened?" Julie questioned the Peters boy who's smile dropped. His mind flipping through all the what-ifs that had lived in his brain for the entire year before he died.

"I think she ran into trouble and couldn't find a way out. I only hope if she passed away, it was easy and quick." Reggie finished instantly flipping the switch back to his usual oblivious façade used as his coping mechanism.

"I was thinking we could work on that song?" Luke piped up as he and Alex both poofed back into the studio as if the last hour hadn't happened. Both their pain neatly placed back in that box in their brains the light barely caught a glance at.

As Sunset Curve poured themselves into the song, they worked on together deep in the basement of the Molina's a sound lightly filled the space. The sound of a celebration heard with the backing of upbeat trumpets followed by a laugh. A soft golden glow lighting up the dark basement through a sheet protecting an antique piece of furniture.

The Golden Age, Cair Paravel, Narnia

The House of Pevensie ruled fairly and justly for a decade and a half together with High King Peter and his Queen, you, by his side. Never one to cower from a battle you were often found by Peter's side holding the sword and the bow strapped over your back. Both items gifts from Father Christmas back during the Winter Rebellion against the White Witch.

Unfortunately, all good things come to an end. In the year 1015 of the Golden Age, the Kings and Queens of Narnia set out on a hunt. Leaving the daily duties to their court, the Pevensie family decided to hunt the magical White Stag. It was a break from the stress of ruling and failing to provide an heir to the kingdom for you and Peter.

"How are you?" Susan questioned slowly to a trot beside you and your horse Mercer. The question flaring frustration once more in your body.

"I am fine, Susan." You sighed looking ahead to where Peter was speaking with Edmund and Lucy animatedly. His blue eyes raising to meet yours with the fondness that had evolved from the love.

The courtship that turned into marriage had mellowed from the way it had been in your early '20s. At thirty-one, you found that what you had thought was everlasting love was simply just two teenagers with mutual attraction. The only two that understood each other coming from a different place than Narnia.

You still loved Peter, but something made you feel as if he wasn't the first man you had loved and certainly not as much as this nameless person. Overtime Peter and you came to the same conclusion, you ruled as before. You loved each other but not as fiercely as before with the kingdom's responsibilities, placing the relationship on the back burner.

You had years to fix it, however. That's the excuse you always told herself when the guilt of thinking of another.

"The last person to the White Stag has to sit through O'Rielly's draft of his speech," Edmund called out before racing off with his trusted horse Philip taking the lead. Only momentarily as Peter first overtook him.

Mercer swiftly brought you up right behind Peter with a grin on both of your faces.

"Ed, as usual, makes his declaration and can't keep up!" You called over your shoulder at the twenty-eight-year-old King.

His response is a teasing eye roll as he leaned over to caress Philip, "Are you all right, Philip?"

"I'm not as young as I once was." The dashing dark brown horse huffed to his rider as he shifts on his hooves returning to his confident stance—the other royal horses returning to Edmund's side as well. Mercer immediately stepping up on Philip's left flank with a soft sound of acknowledgement.

"Come on, Ed," Susan spoke barely giving Philip a look as she had known for a while that it may be time for Philip to retire. For Philip to choose his successor to serve his King, but it was hard for Edmund to think of Philip retiring.

"Just catching my breath," Edmund informed his cheery older sister patting Philip once more before sitting up straight in the saddle. His brown eyes scanning the surroundings hugging the family in warmth reminiscent of his mother's arms.

"That'll be all we'll catch at this rate." Susan retorted copying Edmund by patting her horse's head earning a thankful neigh in response. The teasing grin lighting up Susan's pretty features that had many a suitor at the castle for her hand in marriage.

"What did he say again, Susan?" Lucy inquired with rosy cheeks from the autumn wind hitting from the exhilaration of riding. Coming to a stop beside the youngest royal, your hand found a home in Peter's calloused one.

"I believe he underestimated us as usual." You inserted sharing a smile with both your sisters-in-laws, "I can't quite recall the words…Susan, would you recall them?"

"' you girls wait in the castle. I'll get the stag myself' were his words with his cheeky smile." Susan replied. Unlike when Edmund was thirteen, he joyfully joined in the laughter filling the woods of Narnia.

Your eyes scanning the area that tickled a faint memory of a girl wearing unusual clothing in the kingdom. A shirt that bared your skin in the dead of winter. The shirt paired with a short skirt of a similar colour to another young woman. Your attention brought Peter's to the landscape as well. So curious the High King dismounted his horse and helped you down. 

 "What's this?" Peter inquired stepping closer to a tall pole with a lamp lit up with a flame. Covered in vines it was nearly invisible to the eye unless you looked up, "It seems familiar. Love, do you know what it is?"

"I don't remember it. I've seen it but how I did evades me." You replied, stepping closer to the lamppost. Susan was quick to step up beside you just as confused.

"As if from a dream?" Susan spoke, earning a mute nod from you as that same faceless man flickered in your memory. The one that haunted your dreams with the odd cameo of a blonde man.

Your eyes returning the horse you named Mercer as the name held an emotional connection you never understood. Often you would have a memory tickle your brain before disappearing with tasks to be done at the castle. When you saw the back of a blonde in crowds, you felt sad and lost. Or feeling Peter's hand in your own fluttering your heart until your e/c eyes found his bright blue and the fluttering died down.

"Of a dream of a dream," Lucy spoke, turning on her heel to the vast trees concealing the beyond. Lucy spoke barely louder than a whisper, "Spare Oom."

With that, the youngest Queen raced off through the woods with her family on her heels. 

"Lucy!" Peter admonished the retreating form of his little sister in her blood-red dress. A deep sigh pulled from your lips as the free-spirited woman ignored their calls.

"Every time. I swear she's still a kid at heart." You spoke jogging alongside Edmund behind Susan and Peter. Your midnight blue dress barely touching the grass of the forest floor.

"You're a kid at heart as well." Edmund merely replied, keeping his eyes on the bright colours of the royal garb his siblings wore.

"Come on!" Lucy's voice called out through the branches that slowly but surely turned softer and the trees tapered smaller.

"These aren't branches!" Peter called out in his deep voice that temporally turned higher before it went back to the gravelly tone. You swore with everything inside his hands became softer and harder to grasp.

"Keen observation there." You retorted taken aback at the attitude you found infused in your voice as if you a teenager once more. Peter's surprise quickly found in his blue eyes that glanced over his shoulder.

"Ow! Ooh!" Edmund hissed as a branch scraped his cheeks and the pain vanished with the soft touch of fur on the scratch. The sudden change of texture startled him almost as the switch of his voice to the high pitch of his thirteen-year-old self.

"They're coats! Fur coats!" Susan gasped startled by the odd shift between the forest and whatever this place was. 

"Mrs. Beaver would throw a fit over th- Ow! Lucy, you elbowed my ribs!" You whined stumbling into Peter's side as the others complained at each other hitting, stepping and kicking as the area became smaller and smaller.

Your eyes raising to meet Peter's blue taken aback by his appearance back when you had fought side by side against the White Witch. The eyes that kept rapt with yours at the coronation fifteen years ago and then your wedding ten years previous. 

Then behind the siblings in front of you, a door opened to a large empty room with windows behind framing a rural countryside. Then your husband and in-laws were gone, and you fell out with memories from a lost life hitting you full force as you tripped out of the wardrobe. 

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

@safehavenmuse @siennanoelle01 @whiterose291 @mell-bell @blackhood5sos @ficrecsideblog @ifilwtmfc @deadpoolgirl23 @crappy-unicorn @sunsetcurve-h @elioelioeli0 @lovesanimals @popcrone818 @lolychu @deepsleepnat @tenaciousperfectionunknown @aunicornmademedoit @just-a-writer-here @simp4reggie @faithiebrock01 @overlyhypedup @differentsoulrascalsalad @aesthetic-lyss @versaceapa @carleywhittaker @lostgirl219 @itsalexx21 @elllaoo4 @merxxleighann @mediocremunge @fantomlovesjuke4ever @dpaccione @oswin05 @kaylinfayezink @aberette13 @faithie-brock-gillespie01 @eharvey0218 @overlyhypedup @benstormy @auriandthepussicats @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @whothefuckstolemykeds  @siriuswvrld @princessvader15 @xoxbloodreinaxox @heimdoodle @joshy-obx @lovesanimals @oopsiedoopsie23 @am3l1a-24 @flying-solo-without-you @jaskiers-sweetkiss @lostrandomfangirln @must-be-a-weasley-92 @jatp-holland @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch @dxlanhxlland @dasexydevitt13 @ifilwtmfc @arianagrandes-things @kinda-really-lost @marinettepotterandplagg @ssprayberrythings @morgandamrose @thedarkqueenofavalon @zukoshonourr @crybabyddl @spooky-season-bitch @kcd15 @morganayennefertyrell @magnet-girl @all-in-fangirl @kinda-really-lost @tenaciousperfectionunknown @badwolf00593 @blowakissbabe @talksoprettyjjx @thesweetestsinner @kaitieskidmore1 @writerinlearning @aiofheavenandhell @sageellsworth05 @link-102 @thesweetestsinner @merceret @imsydneywalker @sunsetcurvej @nicoledawson5604 @merceret @kexrtiz @biqherosix​

[thebrochtuarachs]

All That Was Good - Chapter 3

A/N: This story has just been a delight to write. Thank you to everyone who loves and comments about this story. It absolutely warms the heart. <3 As always, comments and suggestions are always welcome. :) Stay safe!

This story is also on AO3

xxxxxx

Faith.

It was as natural as breathing when Claire knelt and caught her daughter in a tight hug. 

“Ma!” Faith chimed and it swelled Claire’s heart. She couldn’t stop the tears that feel even if she tried. Seeing her photo in the wallet and now, in the flesh in the span of 5 seconds was more than enough to break Claire down. 

But it was definitely more for Jamie, who by now, has completely lost it. He was openly crying in awe and disbelief for the daughter he’s never seen or met but prayed with all regret that he could’ve. After everything that happened in Paris and even though they have settled it between them, deep inside his mind and heart, Jamie blamed himself for her loss. 

Hearing Jamie sniffle and wipe his nose and face, Faith turned to him and quickly reached out her arms, requesting him to carry her. Without hesitation, he picked her up and held her close to his heart. 

Pushing herself up from his shoulder, Faith turned to Jamie with a question. “Da, sad?” 

“No, no, not sad. Da is verra verra happy right now.” he quickly assured his daughter with the biggest smile on his face. “We’ve just missed you so much” 

Faith mirrored his smile as Jamie continued to take her in. “She has your eyes.” he remarked to Claire. 

“And your everything else!” Claire jokingly scoffed back at him. She then, squinted and too, shook her head in wonder. “Jamie, I - “

“I know. I can’t believe it either.” Jamie finished the sentence. He opened his free side to her and she quickly slided in, wrapping Jamie and their daughter together in her arms as close as she could. 

The next five minutes have been the most blissful time yet.

-

If the Beauchamps or the Frasers noticed Claire and Jamie’s puffy eyes and tear-streaked faces when they came to the dining hall, they (thankfully) didn’t mention it. 

To Claire and Jamie, everything was new - but to the foursome in front of them and the baby between them, it was practically routine and regular. 

Brian, Ellen, Henry, and Julia were talking about the latest in business and social events they were planning to attend. Claire and Jamie tried to keep an ear out to get some clues on what their families may be doing at this time but it was proving to be hard when there’s a two-year old, red-headed Fraser calling your attention every minute whether it was giving her food, her giving them food, wiping her clean, and listening to her stories in the past week she was with grandparents. Between the two, Jamie and Claire focused on Faith, savoring everything about her. Everything else can wait. 

They were taken out of their focus when Ellen asked Claire a question. “So, Claire, darling, what was the news ye had to tell us?” 

Claire swallowed the food she was chewing and looked at Jamie, a silent conversation ensuing between them. Jamie looked at her belly and maybe got her answer. It was the only thing of significance they could think of at the moment. 

“Oh, our news” She put her utensils down and everyone followed suit waiting to hear what’s next. “Well, Jamie and I are very happy to share that little Miss Faith here…” she tickled Faith’s belly resulting in a short giggle. “...is going to be a big sister.” 

They waited with baited breath for any reaction and hope that it was information they haven't told before. A few seconds later, all four grandparents erupted in celebration with the news, standing and looping Jamie and Claire into taps and hugs. 

“How far along are you?” Julia asked. 

“About two to three months. We just found ourselves.” Claire replied. 

“Have ye told anyone else?” It was Ellen’s turn to ask. 

“No, you guys are the first to know” 

“Can we tell the rest of the family, then, give them a quick call?” Brian chimed. Jamie and Claire nodded even thought they weren’t sure the extent of it. However, Brian offered the list immediately after. “We’ll call Willie, Jenny and Rabbie. And of course, we’ll reach out to your Uncle Lamb.” 

Jamie quickly clutched Claire’s hand and she did the same. Their entire family and more. 

It wouldn’t be far fetched that Claire and Jamie might think that they may have died and gone to heaven because this was everything. But until that reality falls down upon them, they will take this experience and make the most of it. 

“We should plan to get everybody here together and celebrate, maybe in another month’s time?”

“I agree, plan for a proper celebration. Plus, I think Lamb would also like to be out of the house once in a while.”

“It’s a date then!” 

The parents made all the arrangements and Claire and Jamie were just left to happily agree. 

-

The four grandparents continued their catch up to the library and Claire and Jamie decided to explore the estate. They brought Faith with them, not wanting to part with her just yet, even though the little girl was napping on Jamie’s shoulder. 

“Uncle Lamb must be in his 80s now but from what I gathered from my mom, he’s still strong but prefers to stay at home these days.” Claire shared, pulling out a cloth and wiping a drool from Faith.

They’ve checked the family photos and deducted what they could. In this time, William Fraser was married to Mary McNab, Jenny and Ian are together and already have wee Jamie and Maggie, and Rabbie is still in uni finishing his studies. 

Further reviewing the contents on both their wallets, what they’ve found so far are: Lallybroch is a whiskey distillery, Jamie and Claire are based in Glasgow, where Claire’s a nurse, and Jamie heads the Glasgow branch of the business - thankfully, jobs that are not necessarily out of their range. 

As for how they met, their past, and other information to their present, nothing much on that end yet. Maybe once they head to their own home, they’ll find more answers. But for now, they believe they have enough information to process but more importantly, let go a bit to focus more on Faith. 

The day passed rather quickly, with Jamie and Claire coming back to the house to cool off. They made their way to the living room, laying Faith down in one of the solo sofa chairs while they settled on the other. 

Jamie pulled Claire beside him and kissed her temple in reverence. She, in turn, cuddled closer to him, crossing her legs on top of his. Soon, sleep took over both of them once again, a much deserved nap as they adjust to today’s time. 

-

Jamie and Claire were woken up when they felt something trying to grab or climb at them.

“Oh, hi, darling. Did you have a good nap?” Claire asked Faith, she herself sitting straight and waking. 

“Yes. Are we going home now?” Faith asked as she bear hugged her mother. 

“Not yet. We’ll stay one more night and go tomorrow.” 

It was nearly dinnertime and one of their parents might’ve opened the lamp to give the space some light. Claire turned to Jamie and found him tenderly looking at the both of them. 

“I dinna have the words, Claire.” Jamie sighed and began. “I ken meeting our parents is one thing but meeting her, seeing her, feeling her, talking to her…” he reached to brush Faith’s hair. “Seeing what it is of her or me that is in her, watching ye become a mother…” Jamie shook his head. “I could talk about it all day, Sassenach. But after ye, this has been the best blessing in my life. And I promise ye, I wilna take it for granted.” 

“We won’t take it for granted, Jamie.” Claire reiterated their commitment. She, then, turned to their daughter to ask “Do you want to cuddle with Da next?” 

Sure enough, the little lass pulled out of Claire’s embrace and proceeded to go to Jamie’s. He put his nose in her head and breathed her in. “Mo nighean ruadh, tha gaol agam ort”. He grabbed Claire’s hand and placed a kiss on her knuckle. “Mo nighean donn, tha gaol agam ort” 

“I love you, too, Jamie.” she replied, squeezing his hand in agreement.

“Love too, Da” Faith said so simply and Claire and Jamie could just not stop the tears from flowing. 

Unbeknownst to them, outside the door, Ellen accidentally overheard their unusual conversation when she was coming to get them for supper. Throughout the day, she’d observed some things are rather different but nothing to be alarmed of. However, the chat did leave her a bit confused.

Letting the thoughts pass her mind, she knocked on the door loudly and got the family for dinner.

[tobesobri]

Bust | Part Three: Carve (5.5k)

content warning: body image, fatphobia

She wasn’t sure what gave her the boost of confidence to trek up goddamned Justice Hill for the second time today, but she was here. And she was glancing through the windows to find Harry up at his front desk. His cup set aside while he focused on a mound of clay in front of him that roughly took the shape of some humanoid object.

Without giving herself time to second guess, she pushed through the front door and got his attention immediately.

He sat up a little straighter, opened his mouth and then closed it. Loosened the knot between his brows and then tightened it. All while she just stood at the back of the room catching her breath and just staring at him.

“Wh-” He started but it was too late.

She turned right back around and left again.

In which Y/N is an annoyance in Harry’s sculpting class.

story masterlist | my masterlist

She already regretted letting her doubts and her nerves get the best of her while she sat in front of Rose and wished it was Harry instead. Maybe he would have said yes. It was just coffee and she knew he drank it. Nothing had to happen from there. She even could have invited him to come with her and Rose, to make it a little less stressful on herself. But she just�� did nothing.

“Hey I guess great minds think alike.” Rose commented, glancing over Y/N’s head. And when she turned to follow her gaze it was like the universe was giving her a second chance.

Harry stood in line behind an older couple, his white jumpsuit a thing of the past as he now wore a pair of joggers and a long-sleeve t-shirt with tour dates printed on the back of some band she’d never heard of. She wondered if he took a spare change of clothes with him to the studio. If sometimes he stayed late and had them just in case. If he stayed late, fixing her sculpture in his spare comfy clothes while playing his music throughout the empty studio.

“I’m going to ask him to join us.” Rose was gone before Y/N could protest, not that she really wanted to anyways. She wanted Harry to pull up a third chair at their little round table. She wanted to hear his voice again up close. Feel the heat radiating off of him. Compare her hands to his while he gripped his own cup of coffee. She just wanted him around in general.

And that was so very not typical of her. To care so much about someone.

So when Rose returned without Harry trailing her, she was a little disappointed at first.

“He said he’d come over for a bit once he orders.” She reassured then and it was all sunflowers and daisies in Y/N’s head again. She just hated that Rose had to be the one to ask him because she was too much of a coward to do it herself.

Rose made room and Y/N flipped her head around when he got close, pulling the chair out Rose had readied for him. He sat down with a smile and his cup in hand, placing a little bag on the table in front of him.

“Do you guys want some?” He asked, noticing both girl’s preoccupation with what was in the bag, “It’s a blueberry scone.”

In unison, they gave two completely different answers. Rose agreed eagerly while Y/N politely declined. And the second he pushed the bag towards Rose and watched her pull the delicious little pastry out of it, Y/N regretted a second thing that night.

“So do you like, stay late at the studio or something?” Rose started, making casual conversation with him in a way Y/N wished she was capable of.

He nodded, “Sometimes, if I’m working on something.”

“And are you?”

He stared at the table and blinked a couple times before shrugging, “Sort of, I guess.”

Rose looked up at him confused, “How do you sort of work on something?”

He laughed at himself and sat back against his chair after having been hunched over the table, “Well I don’t really know if it’s going to turn out. So I don’t like to get my hopes up.”

“What is it? If you don’t mind me asking.”

And maybe she just imagined it, but Y/N swore she saw him glance at her. It was brief, barely even a second that he looked her way.

What the fuck did that mean?

“Um,” he coughed into his hand and cleared his throat, “well I sculpt a lot of figures of women so… it’s that.”

“Anyone in particular or do you just make them up?”

“Depends. This one’s in particular.” He explained quietly and for some reason it made Y/N’s heart fucking burst through the roof. Like Harry would ever make a fucking piece of art after her likeness.

“Well, that’s cool! Will we ever get to see it?”

He shook his head abruptly, “They take me at least a month to complete, and we only have two and a half more weeks.”

“Oh… well do you have social media where you post them when you’re done?” Rose asked and Y/N hid her face instantly behind her coffee cup, pretending to genuinely be thirsty when she really just wanted to avoid the topic of her already being fully aware of Harry’s Instagram.

“Yeah, um, I have Instagram.”

“What is it?” Rose picked her phone up from the table, readying herself to search his username when he gave it to her. And Y/N could sense the bit of reluctance just before he did, like he either didn't give it out often or didn’t really want Rose to know about it.

“This one?” She asked, pointing at the top of a list of potential Harry accounts and he nodded.

They both watched as Rose scrolled through his photos in a way Y/N had already done. Harry was sitting in a pit of nerves because he never really enjoyed being in front of someone while they saw his work for the first time. He had no idea what she would think of it or why he even cared. But he did. He always cared. And Y/N, well, she just hoped Rose wouldn’t notice that Harry already followed her.

She wasn’t sure if there was a way to easily see that on Instagram, but if there was, she prayed Rose didn’t know about it either.

Instead, Rose tilted her head to the side, looking a little confused. “Oh… you do um…”

Both Y/N and Harry leaned in a little to see the photo Rose had clicked on. It was one of his sculptures. One of the female figures that was most definitely not skinny. Y/N bit the insides of her mouth and prepared for the worst.

“Plus sized women…”

Y/N didn’t move a single inch. Not even to blink. The connotation laced in Rose’s words said everything and she had no prior clue that Rose was so bothered by fat people before.

“Well, I do different body types, yeah.” Harry corrected. He did sculpt plus sized women, but not in the sort of light Rose was making it out to be.

“Sorry,” she glanced between the both of them, “I just didn’t realize.”

“Is there something wrong with that?” Y/N finally spoke. Finally did something other than sit in her fear and anger.

“No. I mean… it kind of glorifies like… being overweight don’t you think?”

Y/N thought she was going insane. How did she manage to have a friend who thought that way? How did she go all this time not realizing Rose felt that kind of hatred towards Y/N’s own body? She couldn’t help but feel a wave of embarrassment and panic.

Harry scrunched his face and sat away from her again. “No.” He stated bluntly. “Too many times in art thin bodies are glorified as some sort of ideal.” He argued and Y/N fell madly and deeply in love with him right on the spot because he wasn’t just speaking out of his ass. He wasn’t just blindly following some trend. He poured all his love into his work and he meant every word. “That’s more damaging than the small selection of art focused on trying to correct the way we view beauty… don’t you think?”

Y/N wanted to bow down to him. To sing his fucking praises. To get down on her knees and kiss his fucking shoes.

Rose stared at him a bit stunned for a moment before she glanced at Y/N like her friend might help dig her out of the hole she was in with Harry. But Y/N did no such thing. So, Rose shrugged and put her phone down.

“Guess I never thought of it like that.”

“Right, um…” Harry started gathering himself and it was the first time within the past couple minutes he did something Y/N didn’t approve of. “Thanks for the chat. I’ll see you guys on Saturday.”

When he left, it was awkward between the two like some real truths had finally come out. Y/N didn’t blame Rose for what she said, she probably just genuinely didn’t understand it. She didn’t get what it was like. And frankly, neither did Harry. But at least he made an effort.

“Think he despises me now.” Rose downed the last bits of her coffee in one go.

“No. He doesn’t really seem the type to hate anyone.”

Rose rolled her eyes, “Well after I made a complete ass of myself, I’m sure he’s willing to learn.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, just a little. Because Rose did, in fact, make an ass of herself and Y/N was just glad she was painfully self-aware.

“You ready to go?” Rose asked, pulling her jacket from the back of her chair.

“Um, actually I’ll catch up with you later. I’m going to hang out here a little while longer.”

“You sure? It’s not safe walking home alone once it gets dark.”

Y/N nodded anyways even if Rose scared her a little with that harsh reality. “Yeah. I’ll text you when I get home.”

“Okay well, be safe. I’ll be home trying not to murder myself.” Rose stood, looking genuinely disappointed in herself as she tugged her jacket on. Y/N didn’t really know what to say, so she just said goodbye and left it at that.

Although, within about five minutes of Y/N being alone in the cafe, she was leaving too. Tossing her nearly emptied cup into the bin on her way out of the cafe and then fast walking her ass up the hill again until she reached the studio.

She wasn’t sure what gave her the boost of confidence to trek up goddamned Justice Hill for the second time today, but she was here. And she was glancing through the windows to find Harry up at his front desk. His cup set aside while he focused on a mound of clay in front of him that roughly took the shape of some humanoid object.

Without giving herself time to second guess, she pushed through the front door and got his attention immediately.

He sat up a little straighter, opened his mouth and then closed it. Loosened the knot between his brows and then tightened it. All while she just stood at the back of the room catching her breath and just staring at him.

“Wh-” He started but it was too late.

She turned right back around and left again.

He pushed away from his chair and followed her this time, and went right back outside without a jacket and without his shoes on until he caught up to her before she fast-walked her cowardly ass back down the hill.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he grabbed her arm once he was close enough, luckily not having strayed too far off from the studio so that the lights on inside still illuminated her face when she turned around. “What was all that?”

She stared blankly at him. She had no clue what it was. She had a million things on her mind and the second she was alone with him it was like everything that wanted to come out just completely ditched her. Her head went empty and she panicked.

“I, um… thank you.”

He was even more confused. “For what?”

She blinked, shivering when the cold breeze got to her, “For what you said back there.”

He easily glanced right over her head, down the hill at the little coffee shop, wondering what had happened to Rose and why Y/N was alone now.

She took a deep breath and got his attention again, “I uh… to be honest,” she stared at her feet, trying not to distract her train of thought by his lack of shoes, “when I first saw your sculptures they made me feel… seen. If that makes any sense at all.”

“It does.”

She glanced up at him quickly, “Right well, um… I just wanted to say thank you.”

“I know… you told me that already.”

She nodded like she had more to say but never got around to it.

“What happened to your friend?”

Y/N twisted around slightly, glancing down the hill, “She went home. Which is what I’m going to do now… because I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one night.” She cringed at her own rambling even though it made Harry smile.

He grabbed her hand when she turned to walk away from him however. “Actually um… would you mind if I walked you home? It’s not really safe, you know?”

She didn't even think twice before nodding. There was no way she could disagree to spending more time with him, especially not with the way he was smiling at her now.

“Okay, well, give me like two minutes to get ready… you can come in.” He walked backwards and grabbed the door of the studio, pulling it open for her. It was profound character development when he didn't cut in front of her like the last time he held the door open. Instead, they just shared loved-up smiles as she walked past him and into the warmth of the studio.

He walked up to the front of the room while she stayed in the back and quickly slid his feet back into his shoes. She watched him the entire time, too, while he grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and pulled his fingers through his hair as he grabbed a set of keys from the top drawer of his desk.

When he returned to her end of the studio, it was with that same old smile, “Ready, then?”

After flipping the Open sign and turning off the lights, he locked the front door and they made their ways down Justice Hill together. It was just past eight-thirty now, and definitely a time of night she didn’t like walking alone in, no matter how much she tried to convince others she could handle it.

His knuckles brushed hers when they reached the bottom of the hill and when she glanced at him, he pulled his hands into the pockets of his jacket. She was reading way too much into things again. He’s your instructor, she reminded herself, he’s just being nice.

Even so, all the words they’d exchanged the day Rose had the flu flashed through her head again. Surely he didn’t talk to other students the way he had with her. He didn’t follow them on Instagram and slide into their DM’s, did he?

She sighed and wrapped her arms around herself when they turned the corner onto Main Street, their backs facing the ocean as the temperature dropped.

She kept her eyes on the cement beneath her shoes and didn’t notice he was pulling himself out of his jacket until it was too late.

“Here,” he handed it to her, leaving him in just his long-sleeve.

“Oh… I’m alright. You’ll get cold.”

He shook his head and insisted, “I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, she took it from him. It was a brown suede jacket that clashed horrendously with her outfit, but she wasn't too worried about that. Not as much as she was worried about it even fitting her. Swallowing and hoping for the best, she swung it around her shoulders while they walked and, by some miracle, fit her arms into it.

All the times she refused jackets from men because of her fears were a total waste.

He smiled and buried his hands into the pockets of his joggers, not exactly convincing her that he was, in fact, fine, but she wasn’t quite done obsessing over the scent of his cologne overwhelming her senses.

“So, um,” she started, fiddling with the zipper on his jacket as she desperately racked her brain for something to say after her mouth had opened without her being fully prepared to spark a conversation. When something finally came to mind, she praised jesus. “How long have you been sculpting?”

He chuckled and she swore she heard his teeth clattering. If she didn’t know he would refuse to take his jacket back, she would have already returned it. “Um… well professionally since I was nineteen.”

“And before that?”

“I apprenticed in a studio where we made pots and plates and stuff like that.”

“Isn’t that professional?”

He tilted his head, “Not really. I was still learning. I did traditional art before getting into sculpting when I was thirteen, and I was really bad at it for a long time.”

She was quiet for a moment, thoughtful, which he appreciated. He’d never really known her to think about what she was going to say first before she opened her mouth. “What made you want to make things?”

It was a good question, and one he never really thought about much. He hummed as they continued down Main Street, passing all the little shops that were just beginning to close for the night. “I don’t know really. Just liked making things I thought were beautiful, I suppose.”

That made her heart flutter. All the plus-sized women, according to Rose, he sculpted were things he considered beautiful. Maybe he didn’t actually plan on dating someone who wasn’t thin, but it was the thought that mattered.

“I guess um,” he continued when she was silent, “I got into sculpting people about three years ago. My first attempts were worse than yours so I gave up on it. But then…” he trailed off and right when she glanced at him to ask him to continue, he did, “I met this girl and I fell in love with her and she convinced me to try it again.” He smiled at the memory. “I made her model for me and taught myself by watching videos so I could get her face just right.”

“Are you still together?”

His smile faded, “She…” he huffed, his eyes dropping to the ground and Y/N prepared for the worst when he opened his mouth again, “she had cancer.”

There was a sharp pain in her chest, like someone dug their fingers in and slowly ripped her heart from its cage. She didn’t know what to say and ended up saying the most useless thing to say to someone in his situation.

“I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “It’s alright. But I think what I make now… it’s because of her.”

Y/N nodded and then mumbled about them needing to cross the street at the next light.

Once they were on the other side of the road and headed into her neighborhood on Saltwater Avenue, he changed the subject. “So what do you do for a living?”

She sighed, “I work in marketing.”

“Sounds like you hate it.”

Shrugging, she became very much aware again that she was wearing his jacket and that they were only three houses away from her house and she didn't want Harry to leave yet. “Sometimes… I just really hate capitalism, you know?”

He laughed, the sound of it echoing through the quiet neighborhood and making her shiver, not because she was cold, though, but because it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard, even more so than the other times she’d made him laugh.

“I do know what you mean, yeah.” He agreed, pulling his hands from his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest, “Why stay, then?”

“Well… I kind of have a marketing degree…”

He nodded, “So? A degree just means you’re educated. You can do what you want with it.”

She wasn't sure he knew how degrees worked, but it didn’t matter when she saw her front door fast approaching, “This is me.”

He stopped just as she did in front of the little beach house with white paneling and a bright red door. It was cute and the second thing he noticed after the door, was the barking from the other side of it.

“Think Max was missing you.” He said, just seconds before he realized what knowing her dog’s name implied. He didn’t even know why he said it, either. But he’d gone through one too many photos of her mini Australian shepherd that the dog almost seemed like his now too.

“See someone’s been stalking my instagram.” She lifted an accusatory brow while slipping out of his jacket as they stood in front of her picket-gate.

“S’only fair.” He retorted, bringing up the ghosts of her past that made her internally cringe again.

Handing his jacket back, she rolled her eyes, “Touché.”

He took it, folding it over his arm as a quiet moment passed between them.  Then finally, he glanced up at her front door and then back to her, “Well, um, it was nice talking. I’ll see you Wednesday?”

He glanced at her lips while she nodded, while she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down on it. It would be the most cliche way to kiss her, if he even had the guts to do that. He had to repeatedly remind himself that… well… nothing. He had no reason not to kiss her, he supposed. Other than her not wanting him to. And he didn’t have the guts to ask her if she would want that.

“Yeah, Wednesday.” She confirmed, giving him a polite smile before reaching around to open her gate and step into her small front yard. She glanced at him before turning away to walk up the short path to her front door and then once more when she waved at him just before disappearing into her house. He waited until she locked her door before he left.

*                                              *                                 *

She fell into the trap of his Instagram again once she was in bed. It wasn’t to check if he’d posted anything new, though, it was to go back even further in his feed to see if he’d ever posted the sculpture he made of his ex-girlfriend. And it took quite a lot of digging, in fact, when she found herself at the very end of his posts. But it wasn’t in vain when she spotted the sculpted face amongst a bunch of old posts about vases and bowls.

Pulling the photo up, it was clear she’d found what she was looking for. Except, there was more than one photo. The first was of his completed sculpture, and according to his caption, his ex-girlfriend, Juliana, had already passed. She swiped left on the photo and was met with one of him and her. She had a beanie on, but it was still obvious Juliana had cancer. The thing that stuck out the most, however was that Juliana was not, in fact, thin. She was beautiful and had the same kind of body Y/N had and Harry loved her enough to sculpt her out of something he could keep forever.

Max jumped up on her bed then and pulled her out of her thoughts. Just the mere possibility of being Harry’s type filled her head with way too much hope. She clicked her phone off and set it on her bedside table. He had all the time in the world just now to make any sort of move and he didn’t. And there was a reason for it, she was sure. It crossed her mind a few times since he’d said what had happened that maybe… Harry was one of those guys that never moved on. She wouldn’t blame him, everyone grieved in their own way. She just felt horrible herself for hoping she had a chance with him when he’d been through something like that and probably wasn’t even emotionally available.

He hid it quite well if he wasn’t. Either way, as she pet Max while he curled up beside her, she completely convinced herself to give Harry some space.

*                                              *                                 *

Rose switched seats for the day to sit beside Julian, who she’d apparently been getting to know quite well the past week without Y/N’s knowledge. So that left Y/N on her own with the few others that sat in the very back of the studio. She leaned on her elbow and doodled on a scrap piece of paper while Harry gave another lesson. Most everyone was at the point of adding limbs to their bodies but Y/N had a really hard time focusing when all she could think about was Harry. And it didn’t help that the only voice she heard was his too.

Frankly, she’d feel like a complete bitch for telling him how she felt after learning about his previous relationship. Even if he had moved on and grieved, it still didn’t feel right. It felt like she’d be taking advantage of something. And with Harry in no hurry to tell her if he even liked her, she was stuck. And it hurt more than she’d like to admit.

She continued doodling while everyone listened, while she glanced at Harry, found him already looking at her, and then went right back to her piece of scrap paper again. She didn’t look up from it either, not when he dismissed everyone to get to work and not when he made a bee line, as nonchalantly as he could, to her table.

“So your friend has a boyfriend now?”

Y/N lifted her head just enough to glance Rose’s way and then retreated to her doodles without giving Harry any attention of his own, “Were you interested?”

His brows furrowed as he watched her, something so completely different about her than the last time they’d been together but he couldn’t figure out what. His eyes scanned down her arm and watched while she drew literal scribbles that he couldn’t make out into any solid thing. “No I was just… making an observation.”

She nodded absentmindedly and he grew frustrated.

He glanced to the people sitting beside her, making sure they were fully engrossed in their projects before he leaned in and whispered just for her to hear, “Are you mad at me?”

That finally pulled her eyes from the desk and onto him where she immediately shook her head, “No,” she said genuinely, hating that he’d gotten that impression. She didn’t want him to think she was mad. He hadn’t done anything. “Why would I be mad at you?”

He blinked a couple times and then opened his mouth but no words ever got the chance to come out.

“Harry! Can you help me please?” Another student shouted from the middle of the class and he turned around to assure that he’d be right there. And when he faced Y/N again, she was back to scribbling.

“If you’re not going to do anything here,” he began, “maybe you should go home.”

She stopped when he walked away. Her entire body immobile. He wanted her to leave. She wanted to leave. She hated that she was upset over what she was upset about and seeing Harry only made her hatred for herself that much worse.

While he preoccupied himself, she packed up her things and left. On her way down Justice Hill, she texted Rose that she wasn’t feeling well.

*                                              *                                 *

It was just past eight-thirty when there her doorbell rang and while she sat on the couch as Max jumped up to bark at the noise, she checked her phone to see if she’d missed a text from Rose saying she was coming over. With her phone empty of any notifications, however, she proceeded with caution.

She picked Max up, mid-bark, and opened her door after unlocking it to find Harry standing on her front porch looking at her with his brows furrowed as he ripped his fingers through his hair nervously.

“Harry what are you--?”

“I’m sorry,” he cut her off, “I’m not sure what I did to upset you, but I’m sorry that I did.”

She glanced down at his feet, finding his same old white vans that he’d recently cleaned all the scuff marks off of, before she faced him again, sighing. “You didn’t do anything, it’s just…” She paused, hesitating. When his eyebrow tilted curiously, she sighed and just came out with it. “I like you. And after what you said yesterday, I just felt stupid for thinking you were into me if you’re still dealing with that.”

He was stunned into silence for an entire five seconds until he cleared his head, “I’m not.” When he saw the way her face fell in disappointment, he clarified, “Still dealing with it, I mean. I’ve had another girlfriend since then. It was hard, but I did move on.”

“Oh.” She readjusted Max in her grip.

“And I am… into you.” He assured. “I was when I first saw you, but then… you opened your mouth.” He laughed optimistically and even though she pretended to be insulted, she couldn’t help but be embarrassed by her past self.

“God, I’m sorry for being so annoying. It was nothing personal, I just--”

He stepped forward and, to Max’s dismay, grabbed her face between his hands and kissed her. Without talking himself out of it this time, but he just didn’t want to listen to her be self-deprecating for one more second. She kissed him back once she was out of the initial shock, and brought her free hand up to the back of his neck to pull him in.

She took a couple backward steps until he was fully in her house and he closed the door shut behind him. Pulling apart for less than five seconds, they never took their eyes off each other as she put Max on the ground finally and then came crashing right back into Harry. The only sound apart from Harry’s moan around her lips as she pressed him into the door, was Max’s nails as he walked across the hardwoods to his spot on the couch again.

He broke away first, a few moments later, with his hands still on either side of her face, pushing her back and giggling when she pouted at him for doing so.

“Sorry, I just wanted you to stop talking,” he whispered while tucking her hair behind her ear softly, so much that just feeling the tip of his fingers on her skin like that gave her goosebumps.

“Well, you’re welcome to shut me up anytime you’d like if that’s how you go about it.” His forehead fell onto hers while he laughed and she did too, breathlessly like Harry had taken all of the air out of her lungs when he kissed her.

“I, um…” He mumbled once they were done laughing and then lifted his head again and began removing his hands from her, “I didn’t close up the studio so I have to go back.”

“Oh,” Y/N nodded, taking a step away from him, “Yeah, you should go do that. I have work in the morning anyway.”

“Can I see you sometime… before Saturday I mean?” He asked and her heart fluttered at just the mere prospect of seeing Harry outside of their regularly scheduled meetings. She’d gotten into the habit of looking forward to her Wednesdays and Saturdays because of him, and it was overwhelming to think of seeing him on a Thursday or a Friday.

“I get off for lunch tomorrow at eleven-thirty to twelve-thirty.” She offered, knowing she’d want to see him again before she was off of work at five. And then she rambled on about why that was her only free time. “I have meetings on Thursdays after work and then I’m too tired to do anyth—“

He cut her off again.

It was quick this time though, but when he pulled his lips from her it didn’t matter, because she stopped. “Eleven-thirty’s fine.”

“Okay.” Was all she said, even though in hindsight she probably should have kept rambling just to get him to kiss her again instead of what he did next.

Which was, reaching behind himself to grab the handle and ease her front door open.

“I’ll slide into your DMs later then…” he stepped aside and pulled the door open just enough to be able to fit himself out of and she stepped back to give him room to do so even if it made her heart ache to see him leaving. And when she seemed confused about why he’d be in her DMs, he clarified. “About where we’ll meet.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.” She smiled at him finally and stepped closer again to grab the door from him while he stood in the space between it and her small front porch. They stared at each other for a brief moment, her looking up into his eyes while everything that just happened finally began sinking in and him, glancing at her lips before leaning down to kiss her one last time before he ran off.

[snelbz]

Swipe Left {Rowaelin Fluff AU}

A/N: We’ve been writing some aaangsty shit lately, and we needed a break to get some fluff out. Enjoy!

As always, written along side the loml, @tacmc​.

Attention, all passengers. All flights departing from Adarlan have been delayed, due to inclement weather. Please see the nearest information screen for more details.

Aelin dropped her head in her hands and groaned. She knew she should have taken the direct flight from Wendlyn to Terrasen, rather than booking the one with a layover in Adarlan. She knew she should have, but instead she decided to save a few bucks, and booked the cheaper flight, with the longer travel time.

And now Adarlan was experiencing some of the worst weather she’d ever seen.

As she looked around for an information board at her gate, a brilliant flash of lightning raced across the sky. The accompanying rumble of thunder shook the airport and Aelin begrudgingly accepted that grounding the flights may have been the right thing to do.

She sighed and pulled her phone out, noticing a text from Lysandra. She opened it, finding a picture of her feet shoved in the sand and a drink in her hands, with a text that read, Got my beach, got my beer. All I’m missing is you, bitch. What time do you get in?

She sighed and replied, Flights out of Adarlan we’re just grounded. No clue.

Her best friend’s response was short, sweet, and to the point:

Fuuuuuuuuck

Aelin laughed to herself, but closed out of her messages and began to peruse her social media apps, eventually opening Tinder.

She made a face, looking around the airport and thinking about how stupid it would be to thumb through her possible matches while in a another country. Especially one she wasn’t staying in for very long.

And then decided, why the hell not.

A blonde man who looked far too much like her cousin was the first that popped up.

No, definitely not.

Then a young man with striking blue eyes, raven black hair and a mischievous grin graced her screen. Mmm, maybe…, she thought to herself, scrolling down to read through his bio. Loves dogs, an avid reader, and-.

Nope, to the left he goes. A doctor. 

Aelin wasn’t sure she could handle dating another doctor.

On and on she went, finding a flaw in nearly every profile she looked at.

Muscle head. Swipe.

Drinks too much. Swipe.

Doesn’t drink enough. Swipe.

Too old. Swipe.

Too young, she thought, swiping left at the photo of a teen in his high school basketball uniform. He’d definitely lied about his age to get on here.

And then she was pinned in place by the most striking pair of green eyes she’d ever seen.

And those cheek bones, by the wyrd, she was jealous.

She scrolled through his pictures, wondering if the silver hair was natural or if he had to dye it to keep it that shimmering hue.

Gods, he was gorgeous. She looked through his pictures again, every single one of them a candid, but couldn’t help but hear that little voice in the back of her head.

What’s the catch?

He’s definitely too good to be true.

Scrolling down, she decided to read through his bio.

Rowan, 28

11th grade history teacher by day.

Whiskey aficionado and trivia extraordinaire by night.

Aelin blinked at the short and sweet description the man had written for himself and after swiping through his pictures one more time, decided there was no way this guy was real.

She was sure that whoever this Rowan guy was, he may have been an eleventh grade history teacher, and he may have been kickass at trivia, but there was no way in hell he looked like that. No, she was sure that was just some poor, unsuspecting model, with the most kissable, gorgeous face she’d ever seen, who’d had pictures lifted from his personal Instagram. She even thought about trying to reverse image search the model to see if she could figure out who he was. If she did, it would only be fair of her to let him know.

But until then, she wasn’t exactly in the mood to be catfished...again.

She swiped left, sending him to the pile of men she’d rejected.

“Ouch, so that’s a hard no, then?”

The voice came from behind her and Aelin whirled, so fast that her blonde hair fanned out around her.

That hair. Those eyes. That damn bone structure.

Aelin blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

The man - Rowan, she realized - chuckled. “Can’t say it wasn’t entertaining watching you swipe left on the entire male population of Adarlan.” He smirked. “But after spending so long on mine, I thought you’d at least swipe right.”

Aelin was still stunned. “Fuck, you’re not a catfish?”

A silver brow arched and he chuckled again as he said, “No, definitely not a cat or a fish. All male.”

“So you teach teenagers?” She asked, gesturing to him. “So that’s your real job, even with a face like that?”

He asked, “A face like what?”

“You’re gorgeous,” Aelin said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, then she realized what she’d said. She covered her face with her hands, feeling her cheeks and the tips of her ears reddening.

But his grin only widened as his eyes narrowed, the most ridiculously handsome, smug look crossing over his face. “Do you judge everyone so harshly? What? I can’t be pretty and smart?”

Aelin’s hands slid off her face as she met his gaze, once again. “I never called you pretty.”

“But you called me gorgeous,” he countered, and at her scowl he breathed a laugh. “I’m Rowan.”

“I know,” she said, and held up her phone. “I cyber stalked you, remember?”

“Ah,” he said, leaning forward. “I can’t deny I did the same to you, Aelin.”

Oh, she liked the way her name sounded on his lips. His voice alone, that accent, had her toes curling.

“Did you swipe right?” She asked, slipping her phone in her back pocket.

Rowan smirked. “Guess you’ll never know, since you decided to swipe left.”

He adjusted the laptop case on his shoulder and winked, before walking over and sitting down at the closest plug, leaving Aelin staring.

————

How to unswipe left on tinder.

The question she typed in her browser mocked her and she sighed.

She picked at her unappetizing chicken - she thought it was chicken, at least - she’d picked up in the airport food court and looked around. The place was packed, travelers from everywhere stuck here until the storm passed. Almost every table was occupied, though she had gotten lucky and found one of the small ones by the wall. She was inclined to stay here until her flight finally departed, but she figured she could at least go to the bar until her flight and give someone else her table.

She was putting her trash on the tray, getting ready to get up when a head of silver hair sat down at the table across from her.

She blinked, watching his every movement as he plopped his tray down on the tabletop. He, unlike Aelin, went with burrito. After consuming her chicken...ish lunch, the burrito looked wonderful. She eyed it with envy.

“May I join you?” he asked, not bothering to wait for her to reply as he unwrapped the burrito from the foil and taking a bite.

Aelin opened her mouth to reply, but her lips snatched shut. She had already finished eating, was ready to go waste her time elsewhere. “I was headed to the bar.”

Rowan nodded, slowly, as he took another bite. He waited to swallow before asking, “So, first you swipe left, then you don’t want to eat with me? Apparently I need to take a hint. Then again...you did say I was gorgeous...so.” 

Aelin was caught somewhere between wanting to run and hide, and wanting to jump his bones. The latter was more appealing, but the former felt easier, all things considering. 

She pursed her lips. “Did you swipe, right?”

The gleam in his eye was wicked. “Have lunch with me.”

She exhaled through her nose. “Fine.”

Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Don’t act so excited about it.”

Aelin closed her eyes and sighed. She was being a bitch.

Well, she was a bitch, but she was letting her bitch show.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “You kind of...caught me on an off day.”

He looked around while he chewed,at their surroundings, at the people around them. “Yeah, I think we’re all having an off day.”

Aelin let Rowan eat, not asking him questions every few minutes, despite wanting to, though she did respond to his while he quietly ate.

He asked what she did for a living, she said she didn’t know because she was on the way home from graduating college. He asked what her degree was in, she said literature and English education.

He was balling up the aluminum foil and standing when he asked, “So you have a degree in education but you don’t know what you want to do for a living?”

They grabbed their various bags and carry-ons and she shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so.”

He said, obviously, “Have you thought about teaching?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course, I have, but I have more passion for literature and English than I do for standing up in front of a classroom full of kids only to be disrespected and unappreciated.” 

Rowan looked at her, thoughtfully. “I had the same fear when I began, once I got my degree. But, I fucking love history, and my kids, for the most part, are great. If you choose to become an educator...well, the vibe of your classroom is in your hands.”

Aelin’s eyes narrowed but she didn’t protest. “Come get a drink with me.”

Rowan arched a brow. “Is this a date?”

Aelin put a hand on her hip. “Did you swipe right?”

He tilted his head. “Let me buy you a drink.”

“You said you’d tell me if I had lunch with you,” she laughed.

“I didn’t, actually.” He was smirking and Aelin wanted to wipe it off his handsome face, in whatever way she could. “I just mentioned that you should eat with me after I asked and you chose to.”

Aelin opened her mouth to disagree but then snapped it closed. He was right. “You tricked me.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

She stopped walking and he stopped and turned. She narrowed her eyes at him and said, “Tell me if you swiped right and I’ll have a drink with you.”

He smirked. “Deal.”

She crossed her arms, waiting.

Rowan just arched a brow. “Come on. I’ll tell you after the first drink.”

Aelin’s mouth fell open, but Rowan was walking away, down the terminal. Aelin wanted so desperately to grab him by the shoulders and shake him until he confessed, but she didn’t. Unable to control herself, she only walked after him, intrigued.

“What gate are you flying out of?” Rowan asked as she caught up to him. 

She knew exactly which gate it was, but she wanted to see if she could make him squirm. “C.”

She kept her head straight, didn’t glance over at him as he looked at her. She just asked, “You?”

That half smile returned and she knew that he knew she was trying to mess with him. “C, as well.”

They got to the bar and sat down, being waited in quickly, despite the larger than normal crowd. Aelin ordered a jack and coke and Rowan a 7&7.

The bartender gave them their ID’s back and said, “Thank you, and happy birthday, Miss Galathynius.”

She cringed as Rowan turned to look at her. “It’s your birthday?”

She lifted her hands and gave a half-assed attempt at spirit fingers. “Surprise.”

He stared at her for a moment before he said, “You should’ve said something.”

“What’s the point?” she muttered.

Rowan blinked, still watching her through his side-eye. “What do you mean?”

Aelin snorted as their drinks were slid in front of them. “I was supposed to be celebrating my birthday at home, with my best friend on the beach; but, instead, I’m here, stuck at the airport. I don’t even remember the last time I’ve had an interesting birthday.”

Rowan nodded. “If it makes you feel any better, I spent my last birthday in the hospital.”

“What?” Aelin asked, sipping her drink. “How?”

“Horrible food poisoning,” he laughed. “I’ve never been that sick in my life.”

Aelin shook her head. “Maybe we can celebrate our birthdays together.”

Rowan chuckled. “My birthday was five months ago.”

Aelin took another drink and set her glass down. “And?” She shrugged. “It’s someone’s birthday everyday. Why not make it yours?”

Rowan eyed her for a moment, his lips teasing the edge of his glass. Then, he said, “Alright. Fine. Today is both of our birthdays, what should we do?”

“Raise hell, obviously,” Aelin answered, shrugging, as she took a sip from her glass.

Rowan only grinned. “And what does raising hell look like to Aelin Galathynius?”

She smirked, but a thunder clap drew her attention to the windows they sat across from, to the storm raging outside. A crease formed between her brows. “Definitely doesn’t look like an extended layover in Adarlan.”

Rowan watched her, wanting to brush back the hair that slipped from behind her ear. He turned to the bartender and said, “Two shots of Gentleman’s.”

Aelin’s eyebrows raised. “Well, that’s one way to wake hell up.”

The small glasses were set in front of them and Rowan said, “To raising hell, Miss Galathynius.”

Aelin rolled her eyes and threw the shot back.

The bourbon warmed her entire body and she shook her head, blowing out a sharp breath. Rowan was watching her, a small smile on his face. He paid up their tab and they made their way over to the information board by the bar entrance.

“Has yours been updated?” Rowan asked, scanning the flights.

Aelin found hers instantly. “No, still just delayed.”

He nodded. “Mine too.”

“So,” she began. “What’s next on the birthday agenda?”

An easy smile spread across his face as he said, “Presents.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Presents?”

They walked over to one of the small convenience stores tucked in between the Starbucks and the restrooms. “Since today isn’t actually my birthday, I don’t get anything. But you do.”

She looked at the glorified gas station snacks lined up in the fancy shelving. “Oh goodie, a Snickers bar and the latest issue of Erilea Weekly.”

“Is that what you want?” He asked.

She laughed. “Not really. I don’t need anything though.”

“Everyone needs something on their birthday.” Aelin glanced up at him and he was looking down at her.

You could kiss me, she thought. That would be a pretty good gift.

Instead she said, “Okay, then surprise me.”

Rowan’s smile grew. “Gladly.”

Rowan took a step and Aelin followed, but then he froze, and blinked. “What are you doing?”

“What do you mean what am I doing?” Aelin asked, taking a step back, confused.

But Rowan only arched a brow and grinned. “If I’m going to surprise you, you can’t see what I pick out. Go away.”

Aelin snorted but sighed. “Fine. My gate is C-17. I’ll be there when you’re done.”

Rowan’s smile was triumphant. “See you there.”

Aelin headed back to the gate, sitting by the window and watching the storms swirl around them. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket. It was Lysandra, but no picture accompanied her text this time.

How goes the long, boring wait?

She sighed. Long and boring. I have company though.

The text immediately showed “Read” and the grey typing bubbles reappeared.

Company? How?

Where? The airport?

Is he hot?

How did you meet?

Aelin smirked and typed back. I swiped left on him.

The bubbles reappeared and left and reappeared. I’m not following.

He’s gorgeous, so after hardcore staring at this face, I decided I didn’t want to get catfished.

So I swiped left.

And then I turned around and found him standing there, looking just as pretty as his pictures.

She hit send and waited, anticipating Lysandra’s next question.

What’s his name??

She laughed, knowing that Lysandra was probably driving Aedion insane with her commentary.

She replied, Rowan. And no, I don’t have a last name, but I think he’s flying into Orynth and he’s a history teacher.

The message sent and Aelin waited for her reply. The message was read, but nothing came in.

Twenty minutes later, when Lysandra hadn’t texted back and Rowan hadn’t shown, Aelin began to chew on the inside of her cheek.

She suddenly felt ridiculous. Most likely, Rowan had used it as an excuse to get rid of her. They were strangers, and nothing more. He wanted to get her a gift? Bullshit. He probably thought it was pathetic that she was spending her birthday alone in an airport and was getting a laugh out of the whole scenario. 

Aelin rose to her feet with the intention of grabbing her bag and going to the ladies room just for something to do, but then she saw him coming toward her, a shopping bag in hand.

“Going somewhere?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

She dropped her purse back into the seat she’d been occupying. “Just to the ladies room.” She smiled sweetly, hoping he didn’t realize she’d been about to bail.

Granted, she thought he’d bailed on her.

He nodded. “Well, then, I’ll be here.”

He sat down in the spot next to the one she vacated and smiled at her.

Aelin began to walk away, but she turned and looked back at him. “By the way, you’re not, like, a serial killer that’s going to sell my organs on the black market, right?”

Rowan laughed, the sound rich and full and reminded Aelin of a bonfire on a crisp Autumn evening. “No, I’m not a serial killer and no, I won’t sell your organs on the black market.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Or the white market?”

He shook his head, chuckling, “How about this? I have no intention of causing you any bodily harm or removing your organs from where they already are.”

Aelin smiled and nodded, and continued into the bathroom. When she was washing her hands, her phone vibrated again and upon she pulling it from her pocket, she discovered why Lysandra had gone dark.

His name is Rowan Whitethorn. He’s twenty-eight, fit as fuck and looks like he could fuck you into a fit. He’s a teacher at Orynth Prep, where he’s also the coach of the varsity baseball team. His birthday is January seventh and he has a kitten named Snowball.

Aelin sighed and shook her head, laughing at her best friend.

You’re terrifying sometimes, you know that, right?

Her phone buzzed again.

Enjoy, bitch.

Then about twenty pictures flooded her inbox.

She had done a thorough job, Aelin had to admit. The few pictures she sent of Rowan shirtless certainly proved her “fit” comment. She didn’t feel the least bit shamed as she zoomed in on his washboard abs.

Aelin couldn’t help but stare, and gape, before she shoved her phone back into her pocket and went back out toward the gate, where Rowan was still sitting, scrolling through his phone. The second he sat her coming, his phone was put away.

“I was beginning to think you got lost,” he said, cocking his head to the side. 

Aelin cleared her throat. “I- yes, I did.”

His eyes flicked to the bathroom, which was a direct line to where he was sitting.

She sat and tucked the loose hairs behind her ears. “So what’s my present?”

She smiled and he couldn’t fight the tugging on the corners of his own lips. He handed her the shopping bag. “Happy birthday, Aelin.”

She opened it up, first pulling out a stuffed teddy bear, that was red and gold, the colors of Adarlan’s flag. In the center of its stomach was a big gold heart. She laughed. “Cute.”

He shrugged as if to say, I know.

She reached in and pulled out a t-shirt that read I’d rather be spending my birthday on the beach, but I’m stuck with a hot piece of ass at the airport.

Aelin threw her head back and laughed. “Where did you find this?”

He was chuckling himself. “You can convince people to make anything for the right price.”

She shook her head and pulled the last item out of the bag. It was a glass shot glass. Aelin didn’t even read the text printed, because Rowan said, “I was hoping you’d take a shot on me and let me take you to dinner.”

Aelin stared at him, blinked, then howled. Rowan watched her as she laughed, heartily, his slow grin spreading.

Once she calmed down, she wiped at her eyes and said, “Well, I can’t say no to that, can I?”

Rowan’s eyes were soft as he said, “I was hoping not.”

Aelin put her gifts back in the bag and said, “Thank you, really. This was sweet.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, softly. “Is that a yes to dinner, then?”

She smiled, and took his hand, resting on his lap. “It’s a date.”