#an entire family on vacation took pictures with me they were so happy

[myballsitchaurghouchie]

Oh to live in a country where Halloween is a big event

[no-144444]

mishaps online- o.piastri (81)

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summary: oscar accidentally posts a nude online the night before your big concert and launch. oops.

pairing: oscar piastri (no.81) x singer! fem! reader

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As you stared at the screen in front of you, your eyes filled with horror. Oscar Jack Piastri, your boyfriend of 3 years, had just posted a nude to his instagram story. 

What the fuck. 

You immediately sprung into action, calling him since you were in Berlin for a concert. He didn’t pick up.

You called Lando next, knowing they were in the same hotel, especially since it was 3am in the fucking morning. You were already getting bombed by tweets and messages, from friends and fans, all asking if you’d seen it. 

“What?” he groaned, groggy from being woken up.

“Lando! Go into Oscar’s room right now please,” you pleaded, happy that you had gotten ahold of someone. 

“What?- Why?” he asked, but obliged all the same, getting out of bed. “You know we're supposed to be on vacation right? He can go to sleep.”

“Is he awake?” You asked, ignoring his complaining. 

“Osc?” he called as he knocked. “Y/n’s on the phone, she wants to talk to you!” 

“Huh?” you heard a yawn from Oscar, then shuffling as he got up. Of course Oscar would send you a nude, then immediately fall asleep. For fuck’s sake. “Baby?” He took the phone out of Lando’s hand and held it to his ear. “You alright?”

“You posted a nude on instagram, please go delete it now,” you blurted out.

He stood still for a moment. “W-what?” 

Lando laughed so hard he fell over. “There’s no way!” 

“I-I didn’t,” he panicked then lowered his voice. “I sent it to you.”

“Well, you sent it to me and your instagram story,” you explained. 

Lando was on the floor, cackling as Oscar almost tripped over him to get to his phone and delete the photo. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he repeated as he went through his phone, taking down the photo. 

“You are such a muppet!” Lando cried, breathless from laughing. 

“Shut up!” Oscar replied. “This is your fucking fault! You told me to send the picture!”

“To Y/n, not the fucking world Osc!” he chuckled.

To be fair, you understood where Lando was coming from, this was objectively funny. You’d probably be laughing if you weren;t his girlfriend, and if you wouldn’t have to explain this entire situation to your family, including your parents. God, just thinking about it made you sick.

“Is the photo down?” you asked.

“Yeah, it’s down,” he sighed. “I’m so sorry baby I just-”

“Let’s not have this conversation with Lando in the room,” you stopped him and he chuckled. 

“Good idea.”

“Zak’s probably going to call you, and I’m going to go call Margaret now. I love you Osc, talk later?”

“I love you too,” he sighed. “Talk later.”

You hung up the phone and let yourself scream into your pillow for a few seconds, then dialled the number of your manager, Margaret. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong?”

“Oscar posted a nude on instagram by accident,” you sighed. “He’s sorry.”

She took a deep breath. “You know how I love you, right?”

“Yeah?” You answered hesitantly. 

“And how I love you and Oscar and how happy he makes you?”

“Yes?”

“Well right now, I fucking hate him and want him dead. Please give me a few hours to work on this before I can properly face you again, alright?”

You smiled, happy she was taking care of it. “Thank you, and sorry- again.”

She hung up the phone with a groan of frustration. 

Next, someone else called. Oscar’s mom. 

“Hey Nicole,” you tried to keep calm as you spam-texted Oscar about the situation. No way his mother was calling you about this. 

“Hey Y/n,” she smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,” you nodded. 

“Is my son really stupid enough to accidentally post a nude picture of himself to his instagram and leave it up for a whole 5 minutes?”

“Apparently so,” you shrugged, slightly laughing. 

Nicole chuckled. “Are you laughing?”

“If I don’t laugh I’ll probably cry, so, yeah.”

She laughed at that. “I’m logging off the internet for a while, tell Osc to text me, yeah?” 

“Of course,” you smiled. “Sorry about this.”

“Jesus, it’s not your fault, don’t worry. How are you?”

“Shocked,” you answered truthfully. “And a bit scared of what’s coming next.”

“I just hope you two are ok,” she added. “I need you as my daughter-in-law.”

You smiled a genuine smile. Nicole was always so welcoming and lovely. “We’re all good, don ‘t worry.”

“Good,” she smiled. “I’ll leave you to it, love you, talk soon.”

“Talk soon,” you smiled and she hung up. 

Immediately, Lando called you.

“I thought you’d be back in bed,” you teased. 

“Trust me, being in the room for Zak and Oscar’s call was worth the missed sleep,” he chuckled and you heard Oscar sigh in the background. “He’s gotten his phone taken off him!” You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, they’ve given me a fucking flip phone instead,” he revealed. “How’d it go with my mum?”

“She’s not ecstatic with your choices, but she’s alright. She mostly wanted to know if we were alright, which we are, in case you were wondering,” you explained. “She wants you to call her.”

“Now?"

“Nah, maybe tomorrow.”

“How are you?” He asked, worried about what you’d say.

“Not an ideal situation, but I’m not mad at you. It was an honest mistake, seriously darling,” you reassured him. “Plus now the internet knows why I constantly have a bruised cervix,” you added, wanting him to loosen up and relax. It was a mistake, an honest mistake. 

You heard Lando laughing, and you got a chuckle out of Oscar, which was enough for you. You stayed on call with them for a while, then turned off your phone to get some rest.

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You woke up to about a million messages from hundred of different people. Family and friends teasing on the various groupchats, management and your record label freaking out, and Oscar just being upset.

Osc <3: I feel like such an idiot. I cannot believe I did that, especially the night before the start of your tour, and the night of the launch. I'm so sorry baby.

You: It's alright Oscar, I promise. Margaret is already sorting something out right now. It's ok, I swear.

Osc <3: I still feel awful. I'm so sorry.

You: It's alright. Did you at least get your phone back?

Osc <3: Yeah but no social media on it anymore. I can't even look at your instagram :(

You: I think you'll survive lol :) I love you

Osc <3: I love you too.

You got up and out of bed, tired from the stressful night. The concert tonight, the launch tonight. What were your fans going to say?

comments:

ynsbff: something as big as oscar's d-

-> user12: GIRL

user56: girl is bouncing back fast from the shocker last night was

-> user29: fr i'd still be shook my boyfriend posted THAT

landonorris: legend 💙

pierregasly: 💙💙💙

logansargeant: can't wait 💙💙💙

lewishamilton: burning it down and shining on 💙

-> user58: ????? what does this mean????

-> user80: the return of XNDA????

russellgeorge: 💙

valterribottas: 💙

mclaren: 💙🧡

user23: why is the entire grid in the comments with blue hearts?

-> user82: literally? like what do yall know?

danielriccardo: don't know what's gonna hit 'em 💙💙

mercedes: 💙

user13: why is oscar the only one with pink hearts?

-> landonorris: he's not allowed his phone, it's his publicist 😁

-> user90: DAMN. exposing ur bro like that is crazy

-> landonorris: so is posting a nude 🤷🤷🤷🤷

kmag: 💙

charlesleclerc: 💙💙💙

maxverstappen: can't wait 💙

fernandoalonso: Mi favorita💙

lancestroll: it's going to be a wild one 💙

alexalbon: legendary 💙💙💙

lilymhe: my girl 💙💙💙

-> alexalbon: *cough* i'm ur boyfriend? *cough*

-> y/ny/l/n: bless you? do I need to call u a doctor?

zhouguanyu: 💙💙💙

carlossainz: 💙

nicohulkenburg: 💙

estebanocon: 💙

-> landonorris: plz don't crash into this bro 🙌

-> y/ny/l/n: HAHHAHHAHHA

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You stepped onto the stage and the crowd went crazy. This was it, your first world tour. You were living your dream.

"Hello!" you cheered into your microphone. "I am so happy to be here, thank you all for coming!"

The crowd went wild again.

"Now, before we start, I have a pretty special announcement to make..." you paused for dramatic affect. "My next album 'Curious' drops tonight at midnight! And a very special feature from one of my very good friends, XNDA!"

As the crowd screamed over you and Lewis, who just came on stage, the opening of 'Save your tears' played. You two danced around the stage as you sang, excited with the reception from fans. For the rest of the concert, Lewis stayed on (since he was on another song, but also because he helped produce the album) and you two had so much fun. The concert ended at exactly midnight, and you came off stage on such a high. And there he was. Your Oscar, with a wide smile on his face and his arms open for you to jump into. Which you did, happily.

"Congratulations," he smiled, holding you close.

"Congratulations to you too," you smiled.

He pulled back, a confused look on his face. "What for?"

"Listen to 'Stargirl Interlude'," you shrugged, a smirk on your face. "And tell your mom not to listen to it, yeah?"

He smirked. "Whatever you say baby," and with that, he kissed you. His large hands holding your cheeks as you kissed him back, happy to be in his arms again.

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comments

user15: OMFG 'STARLGIRL INTERLUDE' WHAT IS GOING ON

user12: wishing i was y/n rn....

landonorris: being horny on main? cringe.

-> y/ny/l/n: not winning for 6 years? cringe.

-> maxfewtrell: HA

lewishamilton: we told yall 🤷🤷🤷

pierregasly: kika has not stopped playing this 💙💙💙

-> user51: as she should.

danielriccardo: since when was my back replaced with oscar's y/n???

-> oscarpiastri: sorry mate, just better 🤷🤷🤷

-> y/ny/l/n: at least daniel's better at keeping his pants on online 😁

-> oscarpiastri: ok I deserved that.

-> landonorris: HAHAHHAHAH

alexalbon: RELAX I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT UR SEX LIFE.

-> y/ny/l/n: bitch ik all about urs too. lily tells me everything.

-> alexalbon: brb, having a breakdown.

logansargeant: @ oscarpiastri first i had to see your dick and now this? mate leave us alone.

-> oscarpiastri: SHUT UP I APOLOGISED.

-> logansargeant: NOT ENOUGH.

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comments

lewishamilton: mr. stargirl interlude? mr. billie boss nova? mr. the diner? mr. chihiro? is that you?

-> oscarpiastri: hush

logansargeant: @ oscarpiastri hate club leader

-> landonorris: can I join?

-> y/ny/l/n: lando you've been singing chihiro all day. stfu.

-> landonorris: ...

-> user37: were you silent or silenced?

y/ny/l/n: MY BEAUTIFUL BOYFRIEND

-> y/nsbff: thirsting on the main?

-> y/ny/l/n: what have i become?😥

user89: ok, but who is 'i didn't change my number' about?

-> y/ny/l/n: @ logansargeant actually wrote it about williams 😥😥😥

-> logansargeant: Y/N. TOO FAR.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[garbinge]

Welcome Home

Tyler Owens x F!Reader

Summary: After not being home for years, you come back and find yourself feeling everything that kept you from coming home to begin with. But that doesn’t stop you from calling an old friend and taking a trip down memory lane with him.  Created a playlist that inspired a lot of these scenes, some even mention the songs briefly. Welcome Home Playlist. // Word Count: 5k 

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Angst. Grief. Trauma. Dead Sibling. Talks of a break up, of drunk driving. No use of y/n. Mentions of having a sibling who has a name in this fic. Happy Ending. A/N: I… this was something that just poured out of me. I couldn’t stop until it was done. I can’t just simply write a one shot without giving reader so much background and backstory it becomes over 4k apparently LOL. Twisters Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @kmc1989 (let me know if you'd like to be added!)

Being back home brought back up a lot for you. It’s why you hadn’t made any where home yet. The weight of the word was just as heavy as being back here. Your parents had gone out, taken the family to some line dancing event. It took plenty of convincing for them to leave without you, but eventually you and your sister gave them enough flack that they did. Now you sat alone on the large farmland on the back deck watching the sky turn pastel as the sun just began to set while your sister went inside to her room. After a couple minutes, you brought yourself inside, taking in all the things that never changed about home. The blankets, most of them were the same ones that you spent hiding under with your best friends when you watched scary movies. The furniture, the living room still had the same sets you’d make forts out of with your siblings. The pantry and fridge, your family was still an ingredient one so if you opened the fridge for a snack, you had to take the time to put something together instead of just grabbing and going. The pictures, there were new ones, ones that you and your sister both sent back home from your new lives away from here, but the old ones were in the same spots. Memories of building the back deck, going on vacations to Eureka Springs, high school graduations. This part of home was warm, it was welcoming, it was safe. As you entered your room, that’s where things got heavy. It hadn’t changed. There was no changing things into sewing rooms or storage. Everything was left untouched. 

It felt the same as downstairs. Only difference was your sister had been blasting Leon Bridges loud enough that you could hear it on the entire second floor. But besides that, pretty much interchangeable with the first level feeling wise. The blankets, most of them were the same ones you spent tangled in with him. The furniture, the loveseat facing the large bay window was where you spent most nights looking out of your telescope with him, not looking at the stars but looking at the clouds in the sky. The drawer in your nightstand, one that you jokingly called the pantry that held tons of quick non perishable snacks you’d find yourself sharing with him and even your sister when she would knock on your connected door asking for something. The pictures, those memories of who was with you helping build the back deck, who drove you down to Eureka Springs that one summer, who graduated alongside you. Then there were the ones that only the young group of you had memory of. Sneaking out to the swimming holes late at night, cow tipping because you had to see if it was a real thing or not. It wasn’t, instead you ended up drunk in a field with him and your sister. The party where you got violently ill all over your shirt and he gave you his. That was the photo you were staring at now. You, with the widest grin on your face in the backseat of his red dodge RAM, his green button shirt, only done up halfway, your white bra peeking out from it, your right hand with your thumbs up right next to your face, your hair drenched because he and your sister thought the hose from whoever’s house would wash the smell and stain of vomit from it. Your sister was next to you, her hands covering her face as she laughed and in the right corner was a blown out blob from the flash. The only visible markings you could make out was the top of dirty blonde hair and the slight of a blue green eye, but the same thumbs up as yours just closer and blown out similar to his face. As you picked the frame up, another photo fell out from behind. You bent down to pick it up and you realized it was from the same night, it was you and him, someone had taken this picture from behind you both, probably your sister. His arm was around your shoulder, the green shirt still on your back and him just in a white t-shirt. He was pointing at something and you were mesmerized by it.  While there was no way of telling what your face actually looked like from the photo, you knew you were because Tyler Owens always mesmerized you. Opening your dresser drawer to put the photo in was when you saw the same green shirt from that night folded under a couple old tank tops of yours. 

You swore it still smelt like him, which was impossible, you most definitely washed it after your drunken night but again, home had a weird way of holding feelings captive in objects. 

Without thinking, you draped the shirt on, leaving it unbuttoned, making your way over to the oval shaped full body mirror that was tucked in the corner of your room. One you had covered the frame with stickers and the stand with cardigans. As you stared at yourself in his shirt, you lifted your t-shirt to see not the same but the same color bra you had in the picture from all those years ago and you let out a chuckle and a head shake. As your body moved, so did the shirt, falling off your shoulder and without a second of hesitation, you plopped down on your bed, crisscrossed and searched your phone for his contact. 

Two rings. You’d thought it’d be disconnected, voicemail at best. You thought you’d hear a more matured tone of his voice than you could remember, telling you to leave a message after the tone, but instead you heard him answer and he sounded exactly the same. 

“Hey, storm girl.” 

There it was. Suddenly you were 16 again, and if you didn’t have recollection of every terrible thing that had happened in the last handful of years it would’ve been easy to fall back to that. Sitting in the room you grew up in, in your high school love’s shirt, your sister blasting Leon Bridges throughout the house, and Tyler answering the phone speaking a nickname you hadn’t heard in forever. 

“Didn’t think you’d pick up.” Bringing your knees to your chest, you rested your chin on them, again swearing that scent of him was still stained all over the shirt you still had casually draped over you. 

You could tell he was smiling through the phone. In spite of it having been years, there were just some things that you’d always be able to tell about someone you knew so well, so intimately. 

“Didn’t think you’d call.” His southern accent was so strong and it made you wonder if being away for all these years made you lose yours in a way that only he would notice.

“Just because I called you, doesn’t mean I miss you.” 

“Oh, well of course not.” 

And just like that, you were back in the teasing rhythm you always had with Tyler Owens. 

“You were just on my mind.” You replied. 

“Funny, I think I found you somewhere in mind recently too.” 

You smiled, and you knew he could tell you were smiling. “I found that shirt you gave me after I puked at that house party our graduation night in my bedroom.” 

“Asher Levi.” A laugh filled the speaker of the phone. “It was Asher Levi’s house party. I remember because a few of us took his jeans and created a zip line type of thing into his pool. I think that might’ve been what made you puke, that mixed with the drinking.” 

“Levi’s levis.” You remembered it so clearly, it was definitely less of a zip line and more just a single monkey bar if you recalled correctly, but it was definitely possible you didn’t with how much you drank. 

“Did you say in your bedroom?” Curiosity was littered all over his tone as he spoke. 

“I did.” Your eyebrows raised like you were shocked by the statement too. 

He was nodding, a nod that held so much emotion but he decided to answer with something a little more light hearted because he knew how hard it probably was for you to be where you were. “I thought I heard Leon Bridges in the background.” 

You laughed at that, it was your sister’s thing, and he would’ve known that better than anyone else. 

“Where are you right now?” You weren’t exactly sure what response you were expecting, but the one he gave definitely wasn’t it. 

“A motel on the coast of Oklahoma.” He sounded so amused, like he knew his sentence was going to leave you wondering how to answer.

“Oh.” Was all you could come up with, your mind was jumping through all the reasons why Tyler Owens was at a motel right now, some good, some bad, some you wished you didn’t think of, some that led you even more intrigued than the statement itself did. 

“How many scenarios just flashed through that pretty little head of yours?” He knew you too damn well. 

“Wasn’t counting but probably at least 17.” 

“Tell me one.” You couldn’t see it but he was kicking his feet up on a cooler as he sat back in a lawn chair. 

“I’ll tell you three. First one, hooker.” 

If he had a drink in his mouth, he would have spit it out, but instead just brought his feet down and sat up so he could let out a belly laugh. “A hooker?!” 

“I don’t know, maybe your game went down over the years, Owens. I don’t judge. Sex work is work.” 

“While I don’t judge either, I am not and was not with a prostitute.” 

“I know.” You agreed with him. “My second one was a little more upsetting. I was worried you got uprooted.” You were referencing a tornado, something so common where you grew up. 

“No, I’m not uprooted.” All joking tones were gone now as he reassured you. “What’s the third one you wanna share.” 

“I think it’s the right one.” 

“Well this I gotta hear.” There was that intrigue again. 

“You’re chasin’ storms.” You knew him too damn well, too. 

He opened his mouth in a smile, his tongue playing with the inside of his mouth knowing you were right on the money. “Ever since you left, I’ve been searchin’ for ‘em.” 

“Took a break to ride a few bulls, though.” You showed your cards with that one. 

“You’re cheating, you’ve looked me up.” 

“To be fair, you showed up on my instagram news feed a while back, something like ‘all the motivational phrases from hot cowboy Tyler Owens as he preps for his bull riding competitions’.” 

“Sounds about ri–wait so you don’t even follow me?” There was fake hurt coming through the phone towards you now. Realizing you were talking about a post from some news account, not even his own page.

“You don’t follow me! How can you be mad that I don’t follow you.” 

“I follow you. I liked your last post. Surfing in Sayulita.” He had you there. 

“You’re just looking at it right now.” There was actual defensiveness in your tone now. There was no way you didn’t realize Tyler Owens followed and liked your posts. 

“I feel kind of offended. I feel like I’ve been in contact with you this whole time you know, like I’ve been a part of your life from a far while you’ve just cut me out cold.” His cowboy drawl was strong in that sentence and you felt embarrassed almost. It was a reminder of the guilt you felt but it wasn’t something you’d discuss on the phone, this was meant to be reconnecting, fun, that Tyler Owens banter everyone knew and loved. And he knew it because he was following it up with more fluff. “If it makes you feel better, my instagram is all PR, Youtube stuff. I got a finsta for my cool stuff.” 

“Why do I picture you imitating the sunglasses emoji while you said that?” Your nostrils flared as you grinned.

“Because I did.” 

Now it was your turn to let out a belly laugh. 

“That’s probably why you didn’t realize it was me that was liking your posts.” He pulled his phone away from his ear and pulled up instagram to shoot you a DM. “There I just sent you a message so you can follow me back.” 

You saw the sunglasses emoji pop up on your phone alongside CloudTy. A play on Cloud nine,  the nickname you gave him. “Nice finsta name.” 

“Yeaaaa, someone cool gave it to me a bunch of years ago and it just stuck.” He was leaning back in the lawn chair now and he realized he hadn’t lost the smile on his face since he picked up the phone. 

“You want to pick me up?” You shocked yourself with the question and your boldness, but with how Tyler answered, that feeling of being 16 and in love again filled your heart. 

“I’ll be there in 20 minutes.” 

And just like that, your favorite Leon Bridges song came on. Appropriately titled, Coming Home. Falling back on your bed, you wished this feeling was one you could have drowned in forever. There were only a few people in this world where you could pick up where you last left off, and the list was short. Your family was a handful of them, but the difference is you always picked up at the same memory. The one each one of you were stuck reliving when you all came together. The reason you were back home to begin with. Tyler on the other hand, you picked up where it felt safe, familiar and just freeing. 

The door that led to your connected bathroom where your sister's room was to be found on the other side was opening and your head lifted up to see her one hand grasping the doorframe and the other still on the doorknob. “Uh, I think Tyler Owens just pulled into our driveway.” Her smile was hesitant and muddled as she waited for a reaction from you. 

“Okay, thanks.” You were jumping up, not eagerly because you weren’t stupid enough to act that way in front of your sister and open up the 20 questions. 

“Okay, sorry, I shouldn’t have worded it that way, why is Tyler Owens in our driveway?” She repeated her question in a different manner. It seemed like the 20 questions can opened up anyways. 

“He’s picking me up.” Again, said so nonchalant to throw off any more questions you weren’t sure you really had the answers too. You began gathering your stuff and ignored the full out beaming look your sister had on her face as she followed you downstairs. 

Opening the front door, your eyes fell on the same red dodge RAM he had in highschool, except now the truck was completely storm proofed. But you didn’t bother paying attention to the truck, your attention was on Tyler. His white cowboy hat matched his white t-shirt, his hand moved up to tip the hat down in a greeting and his smile was contagious.

“Okay, actually, I think my real question is, why is Tyler Owens in our driveway in a truck that looks like it belongs at a Monster Truck Rally?” You realized your sister was next to you and it broke your concentration. 

“You coming with us?” You were adjusting your stuff as you asked, breaking eye contact with him as you tucked your phone into your pocket. 

“No.” She answered quickly. “I’ll let you have your moment. Am I lying to mom and dad?” 

Wow, you really were 16 again. “No.” Your face twisted up, why would you need to lie to your parents, you were an adult. That’s when you heard the muffle sounds of the Luke Combs song, the guitar strums, although muffled, were enough to get your attention back on Tyler who was nodding his head to the beat. Suddenly, every bad thing you ever did with Tyler was running through your brain on loop. “On second thought, yes.” 

“God, for once I wish my life would present opportunities like this.” She mumbled under her breath as she wrapped her sweatshirt around her torso and ran up to the passenger window of Tyler’s truck. Shortly behind her you followed, hearing Tyler greet your sister and their quick conversation as she hung on the door through the open window, her feet on their tiptoes to reach. 

“Nora.” He greeted her. “How goes it.” 

“It goes.” She was looking around in his truck at all the modded technology. 

“You comin’ with us?” Tyler wasn’t asking in annoyance, he was asking because you knew he genuinely wouldn’t care if she tagged along, the invite was always there. 

“Nah, I’m running interference.” 

That earned you a look now from Tyler, he greeted you first before anything though, your name falling off his tongue with that extra drawl that managed to send chills down your spine. “Interference, huh?” 

“Every morally gray thing we’ve ever done flashed through my head and while I’m an adult, I think it’s better to fill my parents in on my whereabouts when I’m back.” 

Tyler chuckled with a nod. “What you plannin’ on tellin’ ‘em Nor?” His head fell back and his wrist rested on the steering wheel as he asked the question. 

“Could just say one of her girl friends took her to a party, maybe she went out to a last minute dinner with friends?” Your sister shrugged, it had been a while since she came up with a lie for you. 

“Dinner with friends. I think that’s a good one, not too far from the truth.” Tyler was teasing now and as much as you enjoyed the banter, you weren’t going to stand there all night. Squeezing past your sister so you could grab the door handle, she backed up and let you climb in, not stepping back too far though. “Tell you what, Nor, why don’t you just tell your parents, I took your sister storm chasin’.” He shrugged with his tongue playfully sticking out as he joked. 

“Be safe.” Your sister tapped the truck and started to head back inside. Suddenly, you didn’t feel 16 again, the butterflies of getting in your boyfriend's truck and the nerves of what was going to happen weren’t anywhere to be found. It was replaced with comfort and well, like the old feeling of being home. 

“Windows down?” Tyler asked as you hit the country roads after a few turns to get off your parent’s property. 

“Yea, windows down.” With your head out the window, the wind blew against your face. It was breezy but humid, you could see the clouds moving against the now pink sky as the sun continued to set. Even though home didn’t feel like home, this was as close to the feeling you had gotten in a while. Those Arkansas sunsets against the endless plains of land just brought you a feeling that felt like no other. 

“How are things?” His eyes were on the road as he asked. No teasing, no show, no banter. Just a genuine question. 

“I don’t know.” A genuine answer. 

He let the silence comfortably move in, the sounds of the road filling the space instead. 

“How about you?” It was a few minutes later when you asked him. 

“They’re alright.”

The road noise continued the conversation again. The wind howling became your voice and the thunder in the distance was Tyler’s as he continued to drive through the roads you both traveled on so much as kids. Music was still playing in the background, Tyler always had a knack for choosing the perfect driving playlists for each car ride you’d ever taken together, all based on the adventure and this was no different. 

“Why’d you come?” Your head was back in the car now, leaned against the headrest as you looked over at him. 

“Why wouldn’t I have?” Still one hand on the wheel, while the other was hanging out his door catching the wind. 

This conversation was going to be different from the one on the phone. The one on the phone was easy going, one that if you didn’t have the opportunity to see eachother it could’ve ended amicably and open to more down the road. This one was going to be facing all the things that couldn’t be said on the phone, only when you were sharing the same space. “We didn’t exactly leave things on the best terms.” Your head tilted slightly, like it was obvious why you were asking the original inquiry and he was still questioning it. 

“You didn’t exactly leave on the best terms.” He was correcting you but it was done so gently, giving you grace in some of your worst moments. 

“So you’re telling me you never held it against me? This entire time?” It was like you were begging to be punished for how you left things. 

“Never.” There wasn’t any doubt in his voice, and Tyler wasn’t the type of person to say anything he didn’t mean. 

“I don’t know how you do it.” WIth a deep breath you looked away from him and straight ahead on the road. 

“What’s that?” He asked, again the witty responses were long gone, this was the Tyler you fell in love with, not that the wild jokester wasn’t lovable either. That’s what pulled you in, but this, the real tender moments where sharing things without really actually saying them straight out was understood by him and when you did have it in you to really explain how you felt, things felt sacred. That’s what made you wonder if you ever truly fell out of love with the man driving. 

“Pretend like it never happened. I said awful things, Tyler. Awful things. And this whole time you’ve never held it against me? You’ve just–I don’t know what or how you do it.” 

Now he got what your question was. How could he be happy to pick up the phone to your call, how could he fall right back into rhythm with you, offer to pick you up, how could he not remember that last night you saw him. 

“We have so many great memories, one bad one isn’t going to just erase them all from my mind.” It was half an answer to your thoughts. “You were–” he stopped at that word, it felt weird referring to it in the past because if he was being honest, he still felt that way. “You are an important part of my life. We grew up together, you know.” There was another part answered. But you were waiting for that last bit. “I don’t pretend like it never happened. I could tell you exactly what you said, exactly what I felt when you said it, but it doesn’t change everything you said before, everything I felt before.” 

That should’ve been enough for you. That should have melted you, and if you were in a romance movie, maybe it would’ve. But you weren’t, and as much as you wished you could accept that and drop it you couldn’t. 

“I told you I couldn’t love you anymore.” You said it not to repeat the words, but to prove your point, and it broke you to even utter it out loud again. 

“You told me you couldn’t love anything anymore.” He corrected you again, his knuckles white as his grip tightened on the wheel and the loosened as the memory replayed in his head. “And when I asked you, ‘even me?’, you said ‘even you’.” 

The scene practically flashed in front of you like a slide projector. The rain, pouring down in your driveway, something that used to bring you so much joy, just added to the list of things ruined that day. Your tears mixed in with the drops of rain. Your black dress drenched, Tyler’s suit just as soaked. You were yelling, something you never did towards each other unless it was in a cheer of excitement. Granted, the rainfall was loud and your voices had to carry to be heard over it. As your eyes shut to get rid of the memory, you almost saw it clearer. The look on Tyler’s face when you said it. Like you had just gone inside his chest and ripped his heart out with your bare hands. 

“I–” You didn’t even know what to say, the guilt of it all eating at you at this moment. “I said awful things.” You repeated the same sentence as earlier, hoping that was enough to get across your sorrow, even though he didn’t need any of it, he knew even before you called. 

And so, he said what both of you were tiptoeing around. Not because he had to, you both knew why, you both knew the reason. But maybe talking about it or saying it outloud would do something about how you felt.

“You had just lost your brother.” 

And there it was. Grief had a funny way of popping up. Especially the first stages of it. And when your older brother died, from driving drunk on the freeway, two nights after your graduation, everything felt tainted with his memory. It was too much for you to deal with on top of dealing with mourning. You decided to leave home the night before the funeral. And to really add to the shittiness of the funeral day, you decided to solidify it as the worst day possible by also making it the day you broke up with the guy you were in love with, alongside of the day you buried your brother and the day you left home. 

“I lost everything.” Now it was your turn to correct him. Tyler wasn’t an asshole, he wasn’t going to say what you were thinking. How losing everything was on you, it could’ve just been one thing, one really awful thing but you had to go and make it worse. But that was just the thing. Tyler would never say that because he didn’t think it at all, you did. 

“I like this song.” You leaned forward to turn the speaker up. “What’s it called?” “Aimless.” 

You let out a snort. In your attempt to change the conversation, avoid the awkward and painful topic of this all, you managed to just end right back in the middle of it. “Kind of perfect.” 

“I figured you hadn’t found home yet, noticed you were kind of all over the map.” The kindness of this man. Despite knowing exactly what you meant, he still was giving you the grace to talk about travel, and while it still was dancing around the point of what you meant, it was giving you an out if you didn’t want to take the bait. And while you wanted to take it, to avoid this uncomfortable feeling, you didn’t. 

“Home has been hard to find since that day.” 

Tyler nodded in agreement, understanding why it would be. “S’why I don’t hold any of that against you.” 

And that’s when it really sunk in, Tyler got it. He had lost things too, knew how unpredictable the unravel of it all was. It didn’t make it right, it didn’t make it okay, but it made him see you. This entire time he saw you through the fog, while you were dead in the center of it, blind to it all. 

“Where we headed?” The lightness in your tone was more a product of feeling less heavy than when you arrived home versus wanting to change the topic.

“You’ll see, Storm girl.” His smile grew back on his face, the same lightness you felt was traveling over to his side of the truck, too, it seemed. He was shifting too, his left hand moved to the wheel while his right leaned on the center console. Your eyes fell down on it, staring at it as he mindlessly tapped to the beat of the next song playing, one he clearly listened to a lot to know the bass beats. That’s when you really took in where you were, back in Tyler’s life, and him back in yours. Without thinking you brought your hand to his and intertwined your fingers in his. He didn’t even flinch, or take a look down, he just opened his palm and welcomed you back in. No judgment, no pushback, no hesitation. And then, he squeezed it. Four times. Like a beating heart. The gesture you’d do when you were 16 and weren’t able to say anything. At parties, in the midst of the crowd, when you’d jump off those swimming hole cliffs, at dinner with your parents, and now, when the conversation felt itself hard to be had or maybe even just finished. 

It was then that you realized, he was driving up a mountain, the plains were fading in the rearview as he trekked up the trails. You knew exactly where he was taking you. Within minutes you were parking on an overlook ledge. The sky in its last stages of a sunset, the last chance to take a look at the cloud silhouettes, you could see the sunset on one side and the storm that was thundering on your way over on the other. It was your favorite spot to come and watch the storms brew years ago, sometimes the clouds would be low and dense enough to be gathered around the overlook. In fact some of them were currently, and you jumped out of the truck, looking up as the moisture was just an arms length away, moving towards the overlook where the view was a little clearer. Leaning forward against the rocks, you smiled and turned around to see you were alone in the dense cloud. In an instant your smile dropped until you heard Tyler’s voice. 

“I see you, I’m comin’.” 

He did see you. All along. When you were in the fog, he was always there. 

When he pushed through the moisture, he grabbed your hand, then brought it with his own over your head and then rested it across your torso, his body coming up behind you and intertwined in a hug as you looked at the storms. His head ducked down and pressed a kiss to your temple before standing straight up and pushing you back against him so you could feel his chest vibrate as he spoke the two words that allowed you to realize maybe it was time. 

“Welcome home.”

[leah-lover]

Reward. Mary earps x reader.

Smut 18+

Mary being an ass girl.

After training your day was very chill. You would usually divide the house shutters between you and those girlfriend Mary in order to get them done quicker.

This day though has been even more quiet than usual. You finished your pigeon of the work way before Mary did, so you decided to lay on the couch and wait for Mary tho be done. Little food you know that that decision will change your entire day.

Mary was upstairs doing laundry, when her phone beeped and the lock screen opened. You usually don't pay attention to Mary's phone believing that in a relationship people deserve privacy.However, what you saw shocked you.

You knew that the goalkeeper had a thing for your ass. She would touch, slap, tease, and squeeze it whenever she could. She didn't mind that you were in public or with your friends and family. Putting her hands on your ass felt like an impulse she couldn't control. You often used this weakness over hers to your advantage. You would coarse her to change her mind or do something that you wanted just by offering her full control of your ass. In sex she lived fucking you from behind offer just ticking your ass whenever you wanted to be closer to her and when you make her nad she punishes you by spawning you until your ass was red.

So your girlfriend's lock screen wasn't as much of a shock than a surprise that caught you off guard. Mary had put a picture she took off your backside on the beach when you were on vacation in her lock screen. Your ass was zoomed in and out took the entire screen.

This gesture surprisingly made you happy so you decided to reward your girlfriend for it.

So you left the couch and went straight to the bedroom closet. You put on a pair of sexy red lingerie, just like your girlfriend liked. These lingerie were a bit special because your ass was completely bare. You then did your hair and makeup pretty quickly and situated yourself on the bed.

It didn't take long after you finished for Mary to be done too. She expected you to be on the couch as usual and when she didn't find you she started talking for you.

“Baby where are you?”she asked

“Upstairs in the bedroom, love .”you responded.

Upon getting in the room her jaw was on the floor.

“What did I do to deserve this?.”she asked.

“Well baby I was your lock screen and I thought I would reward you for it. Tonight you can do whatever you want with me.” you said seductively.

Mary didn't waste any time. She quickly took off her shirt and got on top of you. She kissed you roughly, like your lips were gonna disappear.

“ You are so fucking beautiful.” She whispers in between kisses. She then moved on to your neck marking it so that everyone knew it was hers. She sucked your purse point harshly while moaning your name. You were already crazy for this girl but her actions make you go crazier. After she was done with your neck leaving enough bruises on it she took your bra off.

“You are so fucking sexy baby “she whispers again her voice full of lust.

“fuck Mary.”you moan as soon as she had your nipples in between her teeth. She gave each breast a large amount of bruising which only resolved in you being a moaning mess and the juices between your legs to drip down to the sheets.

“Baby please, I need to feel you inside me.” You moan out loud.

“ I want to you too come while I am fucking your beautiful juicy ass.”she ordered.

She then got up and went to your toy drawer and picked out the biggest strap you had. You only took that strap once and you remembered it being a rough challenge.

“Mary, I don't think I can take this.” You say hesitantly

“ Of course you can, baby.” she doubled down, fixing the strap to her core.

She then flipped you s on that your ass was in the air. She then situated herself behind you and slid the tip in. You whined and squirmed at the size of it but mary didn't flinch. She slowly pushed the whole strap in.

“That my good girl who takes what I give her “she praised you. She quickly loosened you up, thrusting faster and stronger.

“ I don't think I can take it “ you moan.

“yes you can baby you can take it “she cooed her hand on your back soothing you.

You knew Mary had pace but today she reconfirmed it to you. She thrusted harder and stronger in you by the second. She would occasionally squeeze your ass giving it a few slaps.

“I want you to touch yourself slowly “she ordered. You obliged to the order and you started touching your puffy needy clit while moaning Mary's name.

“ Move faster baby I am gonna come and I want us to do it together “ she said.

It only took a few minutes before you both came at the same time.

“ do you want me come in your ass baby “ she said a few moment before her release.

“ Yes baby, please come in my ass please.” You pleaded before yours.

After you both came down she gave you as a few kisses before she asked

“Who does this ass belong to ?”

“To you. my ass belongs to you “ you confirm while panting from your orgasm.

[senditcolton]

Forever I'm Yours, Forever I Do

Always calling each other cute pet names very casually and quite often but because of that you can tell when they are being serious because they address you by your name.

part of my Valentine's Day prompts requested by anon | word count: 0.9k | warnings: none!

Throughout your entire life, summer was always filled great memories and long-standing traditions. One of the most recent traditions being the annual family summer vacation that you and Tyson took.

The walls of the lakeside cabin were full of mementos from the previous three summers you spent there. This was the place Tyson first introduced you to his family and they welcomed you with open arms. It was where Tyson told you that he loved you.

This trip reminded you of everything that you loved about summer and your boyfriend Tyson, all rolled into one.

You sigh, looking out over the lake from the back porch of the cabin, a cup of coffee in your hand and blanket around your shoulders as you watch the sun rise. Being in this beautiful oasis, surrounded by your family and Tyson’s always made you happy. The smile on your face only grows when you feel Tyson’s arms wrap around your waist, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder.

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss on your cheek.

“Hey, Tys,” you respond, leaning back into him. “What are the plans for today?”

“Nothing crazy. Maybe a hike, swimming in the lake, stuff like that.”

“Oh, so the usual.”

“Exactly.”

“Should I get ready?”

“If you want to, sweetheart,” Tyson says. “It’s all up to you.”

He gives you one final kiss before his arms fall from your frame, retreating back into the house. You finish up your coffee and return to the bedroom, completing your morning routine.

The rest of the day goes exactly as planned: hiking through the forest, stopping at some nearby rivers, laughing with Kacey and Tyson, walking back to the lake house, and spending the rest of the day lounging by the lake, the sun warm on your skin. All throughout the day, Tyson was looking after you. He was always attentive, but today, he seemed even more attuned to your needs.

Sweetheart, careful on the rocks.

Here, take my hand, let me help you, sweetheart.

You look beautiful today.

Do you need any sunscreen, sweetheart?

I love you.

The dinner with your shared families is wonderful, filled with laughter and joy. Tyson’s hand is constantly on your thigh, giving you gentle squeezes from underneath the table. After dinner, you stay at the table, chatting with Kacey as Tyson disappears from the kitchen. Once dinner was completely cleared, Tyson reappears next to your chair, extending his hand to you.

“Do you want to walk down by the lakeside with me, sweetheart?”

“I would love to, Tys,” you reply, giggling as you take his hand.

You let him guide you outside, the gravel of the pathway crunching beneath your feet as the two of you make your way to the dock. You smile, your body leaning against Tyson as you step onto the wooden deck, the string lights bright above you two.  

Your eyes take in the pinks, oranges, and blues of the sunset, your lungs filling with the cool breeze blowing in from the lake. You can feel Tyson’s hand fall from yours but you don’t mind, assuming that he is taking his phone out from his pocket to take a picture. The evening air is filled with the sound of nature and you sigh, your eyes closing as you take in the moment.

Tyson’s voice cuts through the quiet with a soft call of your name. Your full name. Something that he has only addressed you by a maximum of three times in your entire relationship.

You turn to face him and you have to adjust your gaze downwards, Tyson now kneeling on the hardwood dock, a small ring box in his grasp. Your hands fly immediately to your face, an involuntary reaction to the sight of him in front of you.

“Ever since I met you four years ago, I knew I loved you,” he says, his bright eyes staring up to meet yours. “Even before we spoke those three words to each other, I just knew. Loving you wasn’t a possibility, it was an eventuality,” Tyson says, the practiced speech flowing from his lips.

“Tys,” you whisper, the tears already forming in your eyes.

“I love you, more than anything in the world,” he continues. “You’re my best friend and I can’t imagine life without you. Seeing you every day is the best part of waking up in the morning, and hearing your laugh is music to my ears. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, sweetheart, will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?”

“Yes!” you exclaim, a joyous laugh falling from your lips. “Yes, of course I will!”

You don’t wait for him to rise up, choosing instead to drop to your knees to meet him. Your hands cup his face, pulling him close to press your lips against his. Tyson’s arms wrap around your waist as he deepens the kiss, your body leaning backwards.  

The two of you break apart and both of you look down to box in his hands. Tyson pulls the ring from the cushion, his hand slightly shaking as he slides piece of jewelry onto your finger. You smile grows as you look back at Tyson, before leaning in to kiss him again. A chorus of cheers break through the evening air, coming from the direction of the cabin. You look over to see your combined families celebrating from the back deck of the lake house, having watched the whole thing unfold.

This beautiful lakeside retreat held so many memories. And you knew that this moment – kneeling on the dock with Tyson’s arms around you, an engagement ring on your finger, and your family looking on – was going to be your favorite of them all.

[harveybwabbit92]

{Akari showing photos of herself along with Mile and Nayaka and few other UFG members, one picture stands out to Leo who decides to poke fun at her.]

Leo, points at a teenage boy: Who's that? your boyfriend?

Akari, looks grossed: Ew, no! that's your grandson, dude! I used to change his diapers!

Leo, blinks:............My w-what?

{Akari gets an oh crap look on her face, when she realizes Leo didn't know about Mile's son.]

Akari: Okay, I just remembered I have this thing... to do... at this place, bye! *runs away*

Leo:

{Later]

Mile, singing under her breath: I don't want to set the world on fire....I just (Sees Leo sitting in her living room) Eek! *Ahem* Hey dad, everything okay?

Leo: Why didn't you tell me I had a grandson?

Mile: How did- *Leo holds up the photo of Akari and Mile's son* Oh.

Leo: I supposed your married then, what's he like does he treat you well?

Mile: I'm not married, dad. And the boy's not actually related to you I adopted him. of course calling him a boy a bit of a stretch since Kouki's a grown adult now with a child of his own.

Leo: I'm great-grandfather?!

{Mile pretty sums it up for him, when she was still part of the UFG's rescue unit she found a large house that was caved in she could already tell there were dead bodies in there, the smell gave it away... But what she wasn't expecting was the sound of baby crying.

Mile was in a panic as she dug into the rubble before finding a small niche where the body of a woman lay her bottom half was crushed under the rubble, but a few inches away; just out of her outstretched arms reach was baby boy covered in dust and scrapes, Mile carefully picked up the baby up and got him to the medics but a few days later she couldn't get the kid out of her head she checked in on him and found his entire family was wiped out.]

Leo: The whole family?

Mile: Yeah, it was some kind of family event and that's why they all there in one place, and then I took Kouki home.

Mile: Nayaka was soo against it. She said "Milene, we hardly know how to look after ourselves, what makes you think that you can take care of a baby?!" we didn't talk to each other for a while after that, we both used Akari to spy on each other, until she got sick of it and told us to to grow a pair and sort our own crap out..And we did.

*Points at a photo of Kouki's elementary school graduation with Nayaka and Commander Sato in attendance with Mile.*

Mile: Then a few years down the line he met a girl and got her pregnant before he finished high school... That's where your great-granddaughter Kairi came from. Kouki's raising her by himself, I won't talk about her mother, that woman is undeserving of the title. But Kairi is the sweetest little girl, She's only 3 and like to draw dinosaurs as astronauts. She says she wants to join the UFG when she's older though I'm not holding my breath, a kid's mind can change after all.

Leo: Why haven't I met them yet?

Mile: They're on vacation right now, but are due back tomorrow.

{The next morning Mile and an anxious Gen waited at the airport for Kouki and Kairi to arrive, Mile nudge her dad when she spotted her son and granddaughter among the crowd disembarking passengers. Kairi was the first to spot her grandma and ran into her arms as Kouki told her to slow down. Mile greeted them both, then Kairi noticed Gen standing off to the side.]

Kairi, points at Gen: Who dis?

Mile: This is Gen Otori, my dad. your grandfather.

{Gen nervously greeted his grandson and granddaughter and needless to say. they both took a shine to him very quickly, Kairi in particular became very a attached to grandpa lee whenever Leo visited Earth she always had something to show or give him pictures she drew which he proudly hangs in his room back home.]

_meanwhile_

Zoffy: You don't have any secret children I should know about, do you?

Nayaka: I'm too busy for kids...But, wait and see maybe someday.

Zoffy: Right. someday.

{Someday came in the form of a steamy "I'm so happy you're alive!" moment between Nayaka and Zero and a few months after that Alto was born.]

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

{Mile is short for Milene}

[rocknrollsalad]

🎄 A quick little thing for the steddie holiday drabbles and steddimas Christmas / Christmas traditions

🎅 just some christmas traditions with the boys. the ending wasn't known to me at any point, I swear, but I love it.

🎁 content/trigger warnings: less than great christmases, poor family dynamics, family struggles

🎄 word count: 1838

Christmas was such a weird time of year. In truth, Eddie wasn’t a fan. Magical things like the elves being behind on presents, and not expecting Eddie to earn anything other than coal, so they had to take things back to the North Pole to make them work properly turned out to be the police taking back stolen goods. Al told him, at the ripe age of six, that Santa was a con. He didn’t exist and it was better for everyone if Eddie knew that.

It wasn’t better for all the kids Eddie told once they returned to school. Unknowingly, Eddie ruined a lot of Christmases. Al Munson was who ruined them, really, but it took Eddie a long, long time to realize that. To realize that man had ruined more than major holidays.

Wayne tried to repair the magic but in the years Eddie would have been gullible enough to buy in, he was too enamored with his father to think he’d do anything wrong. Never mind whatever he’d do to have Eddie with Wayne, that didn’t count. Year after year.

The other problem is that Christmas is for the rich. The Munsons couldn’t afford all that extra electricity to light their homes. Inside or out. A big bushy tree? Only that one year Eddie chopped it down himself. Al was proud but Wayne talked a lot about permits and private land. It was the first Christmas season the cops came for Eddie.

Worse than all the decorations, the family vacations, and the meals were the presents. Stealing them was the only way the Munsons could afford a Christmas like on TV. Other than that it was a knockoff GI Joe from the food basket because what else does one get “boy: aged seven”? It was a bit better than the football, at least.

New bikes and big old hams were for people with money and Eddie learned quicker than anything else, that did not include him. Still, he had friends who were in the same boat. They got together and made fun of the food that didn’t even have a brand and Barbie-like dolls with crooked eyes. They shared the pain of being too old to get toys, like hitting the teenage years meant one stopped liking things.

More importantly, bonding over the donated goods was Eddie’s first taste of “family is what you make it”. They may not spend the holiday itself together but why would a day on the calendar dictate a magical gathering?

By high school, it was cool not to care. Eddie cared passionately about so many things but glad tidings and stockings hung with care weren’t on the list. His home life was more stable though not entirely conventional. Still, it provided its own little attempts at tradition and Eddie kind of liked filling a stocking for Wayne to see when he came home from work.

Now he’d fight demons from another dimension. Santa Claus and a few reindeer almost felt believable again but more important than ever before. Wayne said it was that new lease on life and that he felt similar when he came back from the service. The first year, he said, he wanted nothing to do with holidays but the next five years had him pulling out all the stops.

Eddie skipped over the year of wanting nothing. He wanted to host the biggest Christmas gathering Hawkins had ever seen. All of November was spent trying to master cookie baking, something he managed to get worse at. Wayne put a stop to it when Eddie burnt through a cookie sheet.

Only December said the work was for naught. The Byers had plans as a whole blended family. The Wheelers were the picture of Suburban Happiness. The Sinclairs were actually a happy family, shopping for another town to live in. The Corroded Coffin boys had all moved away slowly after the town cracked and fell into the pits of hell, each gone before Eddie checked out of the hospital. It was smart and beyond their control. They all sent each other Christmas cards but it wasn’t quite what Eddie was looking for.

He now had money for the biggest, bushiest tree and everything to hang on it. Dinner could be purchased if not cooked. Gifts? He still bought them for everyone. Perhaps his first and last Christmas with these guys, he didn’t know, but it wasn’t going to stop Eddie.

Gifts were easy, Eddie could buy or make something for everyone. Almost everyone. In all his thoughts and fuss about the holiday, Eddie had glossed over Steve. To a lesser extent, Robin as well, and they were their own weird family but not lumped in with others. It was easy to think about The Wheelers because Eddie hung out with Mike. Not easy to think about Steve, a guy he only seemed to spend time with in big gatherings.

Not through Eddie’s doing either. He’d survived the Upside Down with a newfound respect for Steve and what he thought would be someone gunning for best friendship. Or maybe more but Eddie blamed that fantasy on the drugs they gave him at the hospital.

So Eddie showed up a few days before the actual holiday, generic gift in hand and ready to spread holiday cheer. Steve was shocked but immediately apologetic that he didn’t have a gift in return. Obviously, that wasn’t the point of the holiday but it stung the slightest bit. If Eddie had any clue what to get Steve beyond snacks and liquor, it’d have stung more.

They chatted on the porch for a while. Steve’s parents were home and not into entertaining company, Eddie understood. When he asked what Steve’s plans were for Christmas, he learned there weren’t any. Steve’s parents would go through the expected Christmas morning stuff but they were so burnt out from all the other holiday obligations that the rest of the day was spent separately. Something Steve said was a lot more fun when he was a kid. Hidden away in his room with mounds of new toys.

These days gifts were socks, t-shirts, and things he needed, things he wanted, but couldn’t play with. Occasionally he’d get a book or a movie but after the family breakfast, it became another day.

With Eddie’s changed outlook, that wouldn’t do. So, he did the only thing he could think of and invited Steve over. Wayne was going to work because no one was turning down time and a half, so Eddie would be all alone. They could watch movies, play cards, and eat the dozens of candy canes Eddie acquired throughout the month. An offer Steve wasn’t jumping at but Eddie wore him down and he agreed.

And when the time came, Steve showed up. Bags of chips and homemade cookies in hand. So, Eddie lived up to his promise. They watched cheesy Christmas movies and fought over whether Gremlins should be included in that. They ate way too much junk food and Eddie beat Steve at poker so many times he wished they were playing with money. The night ended with them passed out on the couch, woken up by Wayne returning from work.

Maybe not the most textbook of Christmases but it was about that jolly spirit and having a good time with others, right? Surely there was some good quote in that Muppets movie to apply here. Eddie didn’t care about caroling or eggnog or tinsel on the tree.

For a while, it brought him and Steve closer but they quickly fell back to the buffer of all their other friends. Eddie squashed that old crush and made peace with being acquaintances. Until December rolled around again. This time Eddie went over without a gift and invited Steve over. Nothing had changed in Eddie’s life and it didn’t look like anything had in Steve’s so why not hang out and not spend the holiday alone?

Steve agreed. No puppy eyes, no annoying pleading, just immediate acceptance. So they watched their movies, ate their junk food, and played fun little games. Wayne woke them up and this time he brought breakfast.

The next year, Steve asked “are we getting together?” and Eddie felt a warmth in his chest he’d never known. It was almost enough to make him cry, something he really didn’t understand, but he nodded and promised to rent some new movies this year.

It also brought them a little closer. The organic push they needed. Saving the world together was too high pressure, too overdone in Steve’s life. Eddie earned friendship through perseverance and bad jokes. They started hanging out without their common friends and Eddie found out he liked being around Steve. A lot.

So when another December showed up they didn’t even need to ask. Steve just showed up. Wayne left them a bottle of whiskey and two blankets a coworker crocheted. They watched the same old classic movies and played board games. Steve still brought fresh baked cookies and things felt like Christmas.

Snow started to fall and they paused things to go out and enjoy the peace and stillness in red and green. There’s a special way the world quiets down when it snows, even with all the family dinners and arguments. In that snow, Steve kissed Eddie for the first time. Leaving Eddie to wonder if Santa was really out there, reading his letters.

They fell asleep cuddled together for the first with an alarm set to wake up and make breakfast for Wayne. Eggs, bacon, toast, fresh squeezed juice, the works. The last pieces of the holiday had clicked into place.

By the next one, Eddie and Steve were living together. They had their own apartment, their own little lives they were cultivating, and they still went over to Wayne’s to watch movies and play games. He left them whiskey and blankets and they made him breakfast.

For years this went on. Unconventional but their own, this was what said Christmas to Eddie. Even with the tree set up in their apartment and the Christmas Eve Eve dinner with the other couples in their friend group, Eddie looked forward to cards, to board games, and the same VHS.

The same year Eddie and Steve’s family grew was the last one Wayne was going to work. He’d be retired by next Christmas. Which they all celebrated by going above and beyond. Everyone did a little extra to pretend they didn’t know how things would continue.

And things morphed, as they did when a couple turned into parents. Nowadays, the kids go over to Grandpa Wayne’s where they watch silly cartoons, play games, and eat too many cookies. Eddie and Steve drink and spread magic around their home. To keep with tradition, Wayne brings the kids back home Christmas morning to wake up a passed out Eddie and Steve. Only now it’s not the whiskey that does them in, it’s building dollhouses and bikes. They wouldn’t have it any other way.

[mvalentine]

૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა rawr!

HI AGAIN!!!!!

Sooo... this ask was me; again, HI 💖

Here are my asks for youuuuuuuu, no pressure though!

if your OCs could only use one kind of writing/notetaking method for the rest of their life, what would it be and why? (pen and paper, digital, etc.)

2. on special holidays/occasions, do your OCs call anyone in particular? why or why not?

3. would your OCs hold the door for anyone else? OR would they slam it in the person's face, especially if they hate that person?

4. if your OCs met you, what would be their first impression of you? and would they ever interact with you again in the future?

that's all i have for now, buh bye queen!!!! have a good whatever the hell you're doing rn!!!!! 💕💕💕

hellooo <333 omg hi first of all thank you so much for that ask you sent me, it genuinely made my entire night 💘 & ahhh these asks are so fun!! im gonna answer for lana (my oph mc) & audrey (my trr mc) because they’re my current hyperfixations atm!!

1. lana: okay so i think lana would very much go the digital route. as a doctor & someone who went to med school- efficiency is key & we all know that pen & paper take way longer. she’s an incredibly fast typer, & she likes the fact that she can have all her files & data stored in one space— plus shes not the most organized & is highly likely to loose her handwritten notes!

audrey: now audrey on the other hand is very much the opposite — she’s a pen & paper girlie through and through <33 she enjoys the artistry of making pretty notes, of using different colors & markers & trying out different fonts and styles. she went to business school & her notes were always top tier, and she was nice enough to share with her classmates in need. she’s also an art enthusiast & later goes on to get a second degree in art history (it’s what she wanted to do initially but didn’t feel as though it was ‘legitimate’ enough) so that could be where her fondness for handwritten notes stems from.

2. lana: she’s not big on holidays & vacations and is definitely not the type to go all out, atleast for herself. i think part of it stems from holidays always being a time for excessive opulence & extravagance, as her family was like quite wealthy & used these holidays as a means to host fancy galas & events rather than bond as a family. once she cuts ties with her family (there’s a long messy backstory to that that i won’t bore you with <3) she starts making her own traditions with her best friend dom & her best friend isabella. she always calls dom, he’s her family. bella unfortunately passed away (another long & messy story that i won’t get into rn <3) but her daughter alana is actually lana’s goddaughter (hence their names) & so she always calls alana & her dad up to wish them. she used to be close to isabella’s family until she passed away & then sort of became very stiff & formal with them because she blamed herself for bella’s death (bella took her own life). i think a few years down the line after she gets with ethan, she reconciles with them (they never once blamed her & always considered her a second daughter) because she deserves happiness too yk <3

audrey: audrey’s mom was never in the picture, it was always just her & her dad. audrey loves any holiday & will take it as an opportunity to dress up and go all out. unfortunately, her dad passed away when she was 17 (why do i give all my ocs such traumatic backstories like what’s that all about?), so she can’t exactly call him. her best friend talia is the one she always calls on any holiday, and she’s still big on celebrating all holidays although her birthday now is more of a bittersweet one, something she just likes to celebrate by herself & later on with drake. nothing fancy, just a bottle of whiskey & a night of reminiscence.

3. lana: i mean, she wouldn’t go out of the way to hold the door open for people. if someone happens to be behind her then i mean yeah, she would hold it open for them & wait for them to pass. but she’s definitely not one of those people who’s gonna be holding open the door for like 5-10 people, like do it yourself people she’s busy & got things to do. oh & she would 100% slam the door in someone’s face if she doesn’t like them, and i say good for her <3

audrey: once again, she’s my sweet baby angel. she’s sarcastic & witty and doesn’t let anyone get away with their bullshit— but she’s also a genuinely kind person. so yeah, she would definitely hold the door open for several people, even if she didn’t like them (unless she really really hated someone yk?)

4: lana: you know i have come to the sad conclusion that lana wouldn’t really like me all that much. which is incredibly sad because she is literally my first & favorite oc. she would find me super loud & overly nice (not because im overly nice i just love meeting new people and get really excited) & wouldn’t really want to interact with me in the future (PLEASE THIS IS SO SAD). if we met at a night out though, we would be besties <333 she’s way more fun & easygoing when she’s hammered oops (also when i say besties i mean for that one night only yk like those girls you meet at the club & you’re glued to the hip for that one night but then never speak to each other ever again after the fact? yeah.)

audrey: now audrey on the other hand, oh yeah we would be besties. we have all the same interests— gilmore girls, taylor swift, cheesy teen rom-coms, 2010 boybands etc. audrey is a very special oc for me because she represents the feeling of owning who you are & not being shamed for having quote unquote girly/basic interests. she used to be embarrassed about what she liked, especially because she dated an older man when she was like 18/19 who really messed with her sense of self & self esteem— but she’s actively worked on herself & gotten therapy and isn’t ashamed of what she likes (i mean she’s got a lot to work on with letting people in on who she really is behind the unflappable & confident facade but that’s a story for another day.) so! i think in the beginning she would find me fun to hang out with, just someone who’s easy-going & fun-loving. i think overtime she would also realize that our friendship could be more than just a ‘fun friendship’ but rather something deeper because i mean i like to think that im a good listener & a decent friend so yeah <333 we would be besties we would have movie nights, we would go to a bar & just talk for hours on end, we would give each other dating advice & just yeah ugh i love her sm!!

[kandadiff]

took us a while to get home the ride marred mostly in silence. My father kept a close, observant eye on you, scrutinizing your every move. Robin noticed and held your hand in his. 

The road soon became blocked by fire trucks and police whirling past us to get to the restaurant. The limo smelled of blood, the copper scent hung heavy in the air. 

“Can we crack a window?” Cordelia asked but my mother shook her head. 

“It’s still too light out,” she said referencing if anyone saw us all covered in blood it would raise to many flags. “we’ll be home soon.” 

If it wasn’t so macabre, then the scene would be pretty funny. All of us were slick with blood, the red slowly turning brown. Almost like we had a paintball fight and all of us lost. But none of us were laughing. All of us feeling the weight of what just happened. Someone had not only found our vacation house, but also were watching us closely enough to find where we were going and surrounded us. Someone who had no problem murdering every single person in that restaurant. the only one who had a smile on his face was J and like my father he was eyeing you. 

“Who do we think it is?” Theo asked breaking the silence. No one answered. Frances, laying her head on his shoulder, her entire front covered in blood.

“I didn’t recognize a face.” I said picking pieces of brain out of my hair. 

“Me neither.” Cordelia agrees and Emmy nods, making a picture on her legs from the blood on them. Like a twisted finger-painting. 

“Mercenaries, maybe.” Meadow suggested “hired help?” 

“They ruined my vacation.” Rhea grins, wincing at the stitches in her side. 

“I’ll fix you up when we get home.” I say and she nods trying not to show how much pain she was in. But I knew she was in pain. The stitch job was quick and fast.

Robin grabbing your hand catches your attention. “I’m sorry.” He whispers bringing your hand to his lips and kissing your knuckles. “You weren’t… supposed to this side of… the family.” 

"Little too late for that." J grins from the end of the limo but my mother glares at him and he rolls his eyes with a smirk and goes silent.

The rest of the ride home is silent all of us moving quickly out of the car and back into the house. I pull Rhea into another room to redo her stitches, Robin moves to go upstairs with you to shower but it is my father that calls out to you.

"Arianna," He calls in the threshold of his office. "Can we talk?" Robin looks at him then you and starts to walk with you there but my father gives him a curt shake of his head. "Alone, Happy."

Robin's jaw tightens and he loos at you to check if you want him to leave or not and he's a bit ticked off when you follow his father into his office and shut the door.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Robin kept close to the office but tried not to be too obvious. He wanted nothing more than to head back to the relative safety of home where he had more control. Here, it was too unmanageable and too unpredictable which made it dangerous.

He looked down at his phone and lit a cigarette. He had already booked the tickets home, just wanting for this very loose interpretation of a family vacation to end already. He looked up when he heard a door open and his head instantly shot up.

But it was just me walking out from the room I took Rhea in, discarding my gloves and handing them to one of the servants, none of whom was the least bit surprised when we showed up at the house covered in blood. He wondered when they became so desensitized.

In an attempt to distract himself from the pit of uncertainty in his stomach he asked "How's Rhea?"

"She's got enough pain killers in her to knock out an elephant." I grin, "She'll be fine." He nods but his eyes flicker to the door of my dads office. "She'll be fine too." He doesn't say anything, instead takes a long drag off his cigarette. "follow me." I say but he doesn't move. "Dad isn't going to do anything to her and the more you watch the door the more it drags on."

He huffs and moves to the nearby balcony with me. It looks over the private beach the was only open to residents who owned houses here. I leaned against the rails and looked at him.

"You know she'll be fine." I said watching as he took a spot next to me. "She knows who I am and now, who you are."

"Doesn't mean I wanted her to experience this shit." He says offering me a puff of his cigarette. "I care about her, I protected you as much as I could growing up - I don't want her to experience even half of the shit we saw growing up."

"She's not a baby." I said taking the cigarette from his fingers and bringing it to my lips. "She went through her own shit. It was a bit different but trust me, everyone in this house is some form of traumatized." I chuckle darkly. "Not just us."

"Exactly." He says. "My heart broke when she told me what her horrible cunt of a mother did to her. Why would I want to pile on with my own shit? Shes bound to see some shit and this time I'll be responsible. Then what?" I sighed without an answer and handed him back the cigarette. "I want to protect her from this, not walk her right into the fire."

"If she doesn't want this," I say turning to him with soft eyes. "She'll let you know."

"Shes got a soft spot for me." He says with a fondness in his voice I haven't heard in a long time. "She might not make that decision to spare my feelings..." He took the cigarette from my fingers and puffed on it. He didn't say anything else about it but I can tell he was deep in thought.

We stood there in silence for a few more minutes, passing the shrinking cigarette between us before I broke the silence. "I miss this." I admit my voice light. "I hate when we don't talk for a while."

"It's been busy at the company." He says, his eyes on the waves of the ocean crashing on the beach.

"Don't give me that bullshit, I'm not mom." I roll my eyes. "Whats the truth?" He says nothing. "Hello, jackass. I'm not just going leave, you can't ignore me." I say poking his side. He chuckles.

"I miss you too." He confesses, "But I can't worry about you and Arianna and the company. I think J knows that, he was the reason father gave me the company instead of Theo. I thought it be easier if I don't speak to you." he looked at me, "I know you and you're probably doing something reckless." He chuckled. "And it looks like I was right, you're working with Rhea and J?"

"I'm being safe."

"There is no safety with J." He says and sighs "what are you really doing?"

"I thought you said you didn't want to worry about me." I tease but his face remains stoic. "I'm working for the family, like you. Just in a different way. Simple infiltration."

"Of who?" He asked his voice oddly calm. But I didn't answer him.

"It doesn't matter. Just trust, I'm being safe and I have Rhea and J if anything." he gives me a look. "Trust me, with this J is keeping a close eye on me. He doesn't want this one to fail."

He sighs and hands me the cigarette again. "I'm leaving tomorrow. I got three tickets."

I smiled. "You driving all the way up to Redding from San Diego?"

"She wants to see her sister before we go back, she lives close to you." He says and I nod.

"Yeah, I know Maddy." I sigh "I'd offer for you to stay with me but-"

"You're undercover?" He asked and I nodded. He made a face at that. “What are you getting involved in?” I grin but don’t answer, he grimaced. "It's fine, i'll get a hotel room."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

My father takes a seat before you at his desk. The paper work on it is scattered with scribbles of names and numbers. It’s a chaotic mess but it fits with him. You linger by the door. “Sit please.” He orders softly and you do. He laughs and you watch his face fall.

“I want to talk to you, you have the disorder too don’t you?” He asks then shakes his head “you don’t have to answer that- I know you do. I hope you know my wife hold you in high regard and honestly I didn’t get it at first but…” he smiles “now I do. You have safety in this family and a place in here. With or without Robin.”

~ ~ ~

[journalingonline2023]

my unforgettable trip

My most unforgettable Trip occurred about 3 years ago during the summer vacation, when I and my sister were embarking on our journey to Spain due to relocation. The day of the trip I laid in bed thinking about the friends of mine whom I was going to leave behind. Thoughts kept coming in. A night before we planned the journey from a city in Nigeria to the capital to catch the plane the next day. We didn't book to take a van.

So thought of waking earlier to get to the station were they hire cars and taxis for travelling because we could drive down due to the far distance. So the day came when we had to travel and got to the station as planned.When we arrived at the hire station we seemed to have some problems with our luggage because they were too much for a car our taxi so we had to book for a van to be able to take our luggage.We waited for a long period of time to find the perfect car that would fit our luggage but they seemed to too small or parked up.

My aunty who was going to accompanied me and my sister to the airport got so angry because she tend to get very hot tempered because we didn't have a very long period of time to waste before our plane could take off because the journey from were we where to the airport was about 3 hours long. And we had to be their before 7pm. It was about 12pm we hungry so we went for food everyone looking frustrated at the time hoping we leave soon.

We where about to leave to another hire company when they assigned us to the perfect van that could take us to the place and fit our entire luggage. Before leaving we had to pray, and I felt very bad because I was going to a different country and was going to miss all my friends and family. I was not comfortable and I cried and wished I never moved. I then got used to the fact that I could come and visit them often and call them.So we took some pictures and we where very happy.

The journey was almost perfect but they rain started and it was extremely heavy the drivers driving couldn't see as far due to the rain and that caused a huge traffic jam. I was sitting close to the window with my can of coke and eating my lunch which I had purchased earlier on from the shop. My aunty and my sister fell asleep.

During that time I was bored and thinking about other things that were bothering me. My eyes moved into seeing the hill at were in font of us.A bus suddenly came into the picture and which was very close to us. Every car speeding by passing, no limit what so ever. At my side I could say lakes which were very deep inside: I wondered to myself 'what if something someone fell in side it' Then suddenly the bus that was in front of our van suddenly stopped, due to the rain and the speed those cars where taking no one could see what was going to happen and, 'Boom' we smashed into each other. Our car tumbled and we were in luck that the car didn't stumble into the lake.

People came across to help us get out of the car because we where stocked and the driver was half dead. We struggled to get out of the car and our entire luggage went lost. Everything was very strange; I had never had that kind of experience before. It was like watching a horror movie. Some people who also participated in the accident started crying, looking for their children, tears beginning to increase, and my leg was deeply injured, my aunty was seeking some help, and my sister was full of injury. It almost seemed that the strategy was never going to end. It felt that I was dreaming and was confused.

I was losing a lot of blood and then the emergency aid came and took me and some other people to the hospital where we where treated. We had to pay for some fees but someone came to our aid and did the payments. That was miraculous because we didn't have any money on our hands. We finally got to where we where headed to. And rested but didn't miss our flight. We were happy that we made it through because someone could have lost their life.

[14buddy22]

Made Your Life Beautiful

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!reader

WC: 3.3K

Warnings: Angst, Pregnancy, Hotch and Jack go into WITSEC

Masterlist / Part 2

“Even though there are people who don’t stay in your life forever, maybe they made your life beautiful in some way, and that is important to remember.”

Aaron had been pacing your bedroom. He had been anxious the entire night and you don’t know why. There wasn’t anything big coming up, you were already married to him, and Jack was okay, so, what was going on?

“Aaron. Come here.”

He looked at you and continued to pace. Fine, if he wasn’t going to come to you, you’d go to him. You hopped off the bed and walked over to him. Placing your hands on his waist, you got him to stop moving.

When he finally looked into your eyes, it was only then that you noticed the tears threatening to spill from them. It broke your heart to see him so upset over something, but you didn’t know what.

“Aaron, What’s Wrong?”

“I have to go into WITSEC. He’s come after Jack and me. I don’t know how long it’ll be, but I want you to move on.”

He pulled divorce papers out from his desk and put them on the top. You couldn’t believe he wanted a divorce. He was crazy, but maybe you didn’t understand how drastic this was.

“Aaron, I am not signing them.”

“I don’t know how long Jack and I will be there. But, we’re going to have new identities. I don’t want you to wait for me.”

“Aaron Hotchner, I’m waiting for my husband. I chose you. I will always choose you and Jack.”

“But I’m telling you, you may never see me again. You have so much life to live. You can settle down with someone who can give you a family, have a normal 9 to 5 job, who’s not being hunted by serial killers.”

“Stop, I don’t want that. I want you. Let me come with you.”

“I’m sorry, they won’t. You can’t leave your life. You’re close to your family. I won’t be the one to pull you away from that.”

With that, he quickly began to pack everything into a suitcase. He took all of his things from his side of the closet and went to grab one of your favorite shirts that he loved. He grabbed your shampoo from the bathroom, went into his drawer, and grabbed pictures of you and Haley.

Everything that was in his bedside drawer was part of his safe space, while his gun was kept in there, he had pictures of Haley, you, Haley’s wedding ring, and just small things that made him happy. Something to give him hopes that when he reached for his gun in the morning, he would see the good things that he was going to come home to, what he was working so hard for.

“I love you, I want you to sign the divorce papers. If you still haven’t found someone to love when I come back, I’ll track you down, and I’ll marry you again.”

“I’m not signing the papers.”

“I’m leaving them here. They’re signed already, I’ve left you everything, the house, money that I’ve been saving for you, and our vacations.”

“I don’t want the money or the house, I want you.”

“If you’re not going to sign the papers now, that’s fine, but when you do, drop them off at Rossi’s office, he’ll take care of it.”

“I’m NOT signing the divorce papers, Aaron! I will wait however long I need to for you and Jack to come back! I love you!”

“I can’t keep you safe! I can barely keep my own son safe, damn it!”

You heard a sniffle and yours and Aaron’s heads turned directly to the door. Jack came into your room and he was holding a stuffed animal that you had gotten him.

Seeing him so upset, you sat on the bed and Jack rushed into your arms.

“Oh, Jack.”

Aaron’s grip tightened on his suitcase as you held Jack in your arms. You kissed his forehead and you looked up at Aaron. You looked at him through your blurred vision and motioned for him to come next to you.

He sat next to you and wrapped his arms around you and Jack. You wish you could freeze the picture at this moment. You wish time would freeze so you could hold onto your boys a little longer.

Aaron’s phone rang and he let out a deep breath. You knew what that meant. He and Jack had to leave. You were losing your family. You weren’t ready for it.

“Jack, we-we have to go.”

Aaron stood up and zipped his suitcase up. He took a picture of you and Jack hugging and you looked at Jack.

“I love you so much, Jackers. I promise when this is all over, I want you to come find me. I’m going to be here, Jack. Don’t you forget about me. I promise when your birthday comes, I’ll go eat cheese pizza and get chocolate ice cream. I know I can’t talk to you but when you get sad, listen to our favorite song and dance it out. And you have to take care of daddy, right?”

Jack hugged you again and you kissed his forehead. He said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Jackers.”

Jack walked out of the room and you looked at Aaron. You completely lost it. You were going to be losing the love of your life in less than 5 minutes. He moved closer to you and wrapped his arms around you.

“I love you so much.”

He kissed you and rubbed your back. You felt his tears fall onto your cheek and you looked at him.

“Aaron, I’m not ready.”

“I’m not either, but I have to go to keep my son and me safe. And to keep you safe, too. I let Haley down, I can’t let anyone else down again. I promise that I won’t move on unless I know you’ve moved on. Don’t wait for me. You’re the last girl I will ever love, Y/n.”

“Please take care of our little boy, Aaron. Take care of yourself. I want both of my boys to come back to me. I want you to smile, even on the darkest days.”

“Every day is a dark day.”

You put your hand on his face and said, “You better be smiling every. damn. day.”

“I love you with my whole heart, Y/n. Please don’t wait for me. I want you to be happy. I’m sorry I promised you forever, and I’m breaking that promise. I never wanted this to happen to us, but.”

“You need to protect Jack, Aaron. He’s the only thing left of Haley that you have. You need your son. I understand that. I am not mad at you, I do not blame you one bit. You need to be safe, promise me you’ll keep yourselves safe. Promise me that you’ll smile and be the best father that I know you are.”

Aaron sniffled and said, “I promise.”

You and Aaron kissed. At that moment, you lost track of time. You were lost in that moment. You then heard someone clear their throat.

“Hotch, we have to go.”

Aaron held onto you tighter and kissed you more passionately than ever before. A kiss so full of need, sorrow, apologies, everything you can think of.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

You watched Jack and Aaron put their shoes on and Emily and Dave stood next to you. Jack and Aaron grabbed their suitcases and you all hugged one last time.

There was not one dry eye in that room that day.

As you watched your boys enter the car, you sat next to Dave, immediately beginning to cry. You hadn’t even had a chance to fully process what was going on. All that you know was that your family was being ripped apart and you couldn’t even go with Aaron and Jack.

Dave pulled something out of his suit jacket and said, “He couldn’t bring himself to give this to you. He just wrote it in the car.”

You took the letter out of his hand and Dave said, “You know where to find me when you need me.”

“Promise me you’ll catch him?”

“I promise.”

With Dave leaving, you grabbed one of Aaron’s sweatshirts that he left for you and you sat on the couch. You just stared at the letter. You weren’t ready to read it. Not prepared for any more sadness on this day.

But you opened it anyway. You cried at the sight of his handwriting. All the promises and apologies in the letter. What you didn't expect was for him to say go into the camera roll and look at the pictures from the day.

When you scrolled through the pictures, you saw the last pictures of you and Jack, you then saw a video of yours and Aaron’s final goodbye. You began to cry even harder. He recorded everything and took pictures.

He knew this could possibly be the last time any of you could see each other again. You didn’t want to think about that, but you were just thankful that you had this memory.

You continued to scroll and then saw a picture of Aaron kissing you, but not from the angle that Aaron had recorded. You then thought back to when Emily had cleared her throat. She caught the moment that you’d hold onto for nearly a year.

You don’t remember when, but you had fallen asleep. You woke up praying that it was all a bad dream, but when you saw the letter on the table and an empty house, you knew this was your reality. How could you and Aaron go from talking about starting a family to your family being torn apart? You would never wish this on anyone, not even your worst enemy.

Weeks had gone by, the divorce papers still in the same place Aaron had left them. You were not signing them. When you married Aaron, you promised him to love him “death do us part”.

You were in this for the long run, no matter how long it took, you just wanted Jack and Aaron back safely, whatever you needed to do to get through it was what it was going to take. Your one love in life was Aaron, not another man. And you hate that Aaron was off somewhere probably thinking you’re with some other guy. There’s just no way you could do that to Aaron and Jack.

The past 3 weeks had been hell, you were slowly coping, picking up extra coaching and scorekeeping jobs at the school you taught at. You went to watch the band play, school plays with students in drama, choir concerts, sporting events, whatever it took to keep you busy.

But you didn’t expect that when you went to your doctor’s office for a check-up to find yourself 6 weeks pregnant. You cried. Bawled. Your life just became 10x worse. You had always wanted a child. Hell, you wanted a big family. That was thought before you met Aaron, but seeing him as a father to Jack only solidified it more.

But now that you were pregnant, didn’t know where Jack and Aaron were, and if you’d ever see them again, you hated this. How could you bring a child into the world when their father and brother weren’t even going to get to know them.

When you found out you were pregnant, you didn’t know where to go except your brother’s. You were extremely close to him. When you showed up crying to your brother, he didn’t know what was wrong. He thought something had happened to Aaron and Jack. He loved Jack like his own biological nephew and loved Aaron like he was the brother he never had.

“Y/n, what’s wrong.”

“Nick, I’m pregnant.”

Your brother didn’t expect that, but he helped you calm down at least. Well, calm down for you to just take a breath and realize that there was a small good thing about this; you were finally getting your family, a baby that you and Aaron had created.

But if God forbid something did happen to Aaron, this baby would be the one thing you’d have left of him and Jack.

You documented everything from your pregnancy. Putting photos and videos into a special photo album for him. You also saved every ultrasound photo you had. Every milestone you could think of during your pregnancy, you documented.

Your baby’s first kick was special to you. It came when you least expected it, you were just sitting and watching one of Jack and Aaron’s favorite movies. In some crazy way, it was maybe Haley’s way of letting you know that Aaron and Jack were okay.

You didn’t find out the sex of your baby, you remember countless conversations and promises to Aaron that you would never find out if you got pregnant. While he didn’t count on him going into WITSEC, he always said that you should be surprised about whether it was a boy or girl.

You remember him clear as day saying “women aren’t surprised when they are pregnant, they usually find out in the bathroom after peeing on a stick and then they tell their significant other in a fun way, it’s only right that you get to be surprised finding out if it’s a boy or girl.”

You swore when he told you, you wanted to have his baby right then and there, but that was almost 2 years ago. Now you were pregnant with his baby and he was not where he should be.

Your brother and sister were so good to you, you don’t know how you’d do it by yourself. Props to everyone who was a single parent with no help, because you didn’t even have a child yet and were worried about what you were going to do.

Your brother had really brought your baby’s nursery to life. You turned the guest bedroom into a nursery for your baby. Painting a light gray with a yellow accent wall. The nursery was so cute, it made you tear up knowing that you were bringing a baby into this world, but you were going to have to do it without Aaron.

You feel like your pregnancy was fast, even though it was 9 months that you were pregnant. The thing that hurt the most wasn’t the fact that you were in labor, but the fact that you were bringing a child into the world, not knowing where Aaron and Jack were, scared you.

You called your brother to bring you to the hospital. You and he had been over a game plan multiple times of what was going to happen when you were getting close to giving birth. You were closer to your brother, you wanted him to be there while you were giving birth. You loved your sister, but her life was so busy that you wanted her to be there in the aftermath.

After 10 hours of labor, you finally gave birth to your baby. Tears began to run down your cheek as the doctors placed your baby on you. You held your little boy and your brother kissed your forehead.

“Good job sis. I’m so proud of you. Aaron and Jack would be so proud of you, too.”

2 Hours.

Your little boy was 2 hours old. Both of you were cleaned up, just bonding together. The nurse came in and asked for a name for your baby. You had thought long and hard about a name. But you know Aaron had one name that he really loved when he’d talk about it in hypothetical situations.

You looked up at him and said, “I want to name him Ryan. Ryan Hotchner.”

Your brother said, “It’s a perfect name, sis.”

When you heard a knock at the door, your brother went to answer. You didn’t expect to see Aaron’s team show up with balloons and baskets for your baby. Penelope was so excited that you and Aaron were having a baby, have a baby, everyone was, but everyone was just as upset as you that Aaron and Jack weren’t here with you.

“Dave, is there any word on Aaron, does he even know that we have a baby?”

“I’m sorry, he doesn’t know, we still haven’t caught Lewis.”

“Dave, I am begging you, please let me see him. Just for 5 minutes. Let me talk to him, I - I can’t, I can’t be a parent, I don’t know how to raise a kid. Aaron does, he raised Jack.”

You didn’t know what you were doing. You needed Aaron. Pregnancy was relatively fine for you, but that’s because there wasn’t necessarily a baby outside of your body to take care of, now you did have a baby to take care of.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You don’t know how long you were crying. Just long enough to know that once Aaron’s teams got some cuddles in with your baby boy, they had left slowly, one at a time. It broke them just as much as it broke you. They couldn’t see their unit chief, you couldn’t see your husband.

Later in the evening, you were feeding your baby. He was perfect. The perfect mix of you and Aaron, you couldn’t be happier with how beautiful your baby was. But sitting, alone, in the hospital room with just your baby made you miss your husband and Jack so much.

You were looking at pictures of Aaron and Jack. Your son was looking at you and you showed him a picture of his father and big brother.

“Ryan, you have the best daddy and big brother in the entire world. I promise that I’ll talk about them every day. I wish they knew about you. I wish I knew where they were.”

Ryan had Aaron’s eyes and dark hair. You and Aaron made a good-looking kid, you wish you could have 10 more of his babies.

Two weeks had gone by. Two weeks of figuring out a schedule for you and your little guy. Two weeks of figuring out how you were doing this without Aaron. Two weeks had felt like a lifetime, but it wasn’t.

You got a letter from the Bureau, but it’s not the letter you wanted. It was a letter from Aaron. A letter confirming that the divorce needed to be finalized. You didn’t realize why, until you realized that it’d been almost a year and a half since you’d last seen him and Jack.

Aaron probably met someone. That’s why he’s asking for a divorce. You were raising his child, a child he’ll never know, and it upset you.

You posted a picture of Ryan and you and photoshopped a picture of Aaron and Jack into it. You captioned the photo and said, “Even though there are people who don’t stay in your life forever, maybe they made your life beautiful in some way, and that is important to remember.”

Aaron leaving you made your life a living hell, but he did make your life beautiful. He gave you Ryan. A glimpse of Aaron, even if you never see him again.

Your son was now a year old. 1 whole year of being a single mom to him, praying you were raising him right. He had the Hotchner glare, it runs in the blood apparently.

Your day started off like any normal day, you got up, made breakfast, ate, fed Ryan, did laundry, and cleaned up. You were having your brother come over to help you set up for Ryan’s first birthday party. You had a lot to do.

Your son was walking around the house, helping you pick up his toys and when there was a knock on the door, he was racing off. You were surprised your brother was knocking, he usually just walked right into the house, this place becoming his second home.

You picked your son up and opened the door. You expected your brother, you didn’t expect him.

“Aaron.”

Part 2

[redheadspark]

Paradise

Paradise 🌺

Summary: Kingo gives up one of his vacation homes to the Female Eternal as a peace offering for not helping stop the Emergence.  She reluctantly goes, and she’s not alone.

W/C: 6,131

Warnings: Fluff with a HINT of Steam (NO SMUT AT ALL!)

A/N: tried to make it a one shot but it BLEW UP when I was writing it!  LOL so this is only part one as a TEASE for you!  

I don’t write SMUT, I’m not comfortable for that just yet!  This work will be steamy with tension there too!  Part Two will come very very soon!

This piece was inspired by the GLORIOUS picture of Barry in those pink shorts out in the beach!

Part Two: Breathtakin’

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2 hours after Emergence

You sat on the beach, legs folded in front of you and your arms resting on your legs as you were watching Phastos, Makkari, and Sersi attempt to fix the Domo that was still damaged on the beach.  The sun was setting over the ocean, tainting the area in oranges and blue hews while the wind was whipping through the beach and giving a low whistle.  Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Thena consoling Sprite, who was still heartbroken over all that happened. You were too, so many things that came to light and were snuffed out.  Losing Ikaris to Arishem's plan with the Emergence, almost having the entire world end, and you nearly saw the death of one of your friends at the hands of Ikaris.  When you fought together against Ikaris, you were strong enough then.  When you all noted in the Uni-Mind with Sersi, your energy was halfway there.  And once it was all said and done, you felt like you were about to collapse.  

Your entire body was beyond tired, on the brink of exhaustion with your nerves feeling so frazzled and your skin feeling beyond sensitive in pain and tenderness.  Your head even felt heavy, almost like a lead balloon that was swaying back and forth. It only took you the motion of sitting down on the beach to suddenly feel the wave of fatigue and being drained.  This was the first time you truly felt empty, physical and almost mentally.

You heard steps walking up behind you, stopping to your left, and then a body sitting down next to you.  You were still watching the Domo, seeing the damage that Ikaris made on it mere minutes beforehand.  The ship that was once your home was almost in shambles, making your heart sink a bit more while you were watching it with heaviness in your eyes.  You felted weighted to the ground, even your cosmic energy was feeling low.

"It won't be ready to fly for another few hours.  At least that's what Makkari told me,"

Druig was sitting next to you, barely having his shoulder next to your shoulder while you looked over at him.  He was sporting a small wound on his cheek, a gash along his cheek that contrasted against his pale skin and the flushness in his skin tone.  He also looked tired, yet you felt way more exhausted in your rooted spot in the sand.  You remembered the moment you thought he was gone forever, that flicker of a moment that you thought you lost your friend.  You already lost two of your family members, and almost losing a third nearly made you blow over onto your knees.  

You wanted to be happy that you were all okay, that you were all alive and you saved the world, but there wasn't anything inside of your entire body.  It felt like someone pulled the plug on you, making it almost near impossible to do any kind of movement.  It was your ability that made it that way, and it was always a struggle for you to juggle with and handle.  You could absorb energy, both organic and made, to use as a weapon, which in return took some of your own energy in the process.  With the assault on the beach and the Uni-Mind combined, you had nothing left in you.

Druig gave you a small smile, having you try to grin back at him before another wave of fatigue slammed into you hard with a brush of the wind.  You grimaced, slammed your eyes shut, and took in a long breath.  It was getting harder to just sit still on the beach ground, you've never felt this much emptiness after using your ability.  

"Hey, you okay?" Druig asked, sounding a bit worried as you pressed your forehead against your forearms that were on your knees.  

"I'm so tired…" you replied weakly.  It wasn't just the physical exhaustion that was killing you and making you so weak, you were also slowly losing your strength mentally.  So many things were piled up on you in the last few days, the quiet life that you had alone for the last several hundred years was not amplified with your family reunion and the world almost ending.  There was no time to pause and drink it in, or absorb and take notice.  Now there was, and you couldn't even muster up a strategy in what to do next.  

"I haven't used up this much energy….ever," you confessed, your voice sounding lethargic and almost winded as you were taking in another breath.  In other times, you would use a great chunk of the energy that you both absorbed and that you had yourself.  It would usually take you a few hours to recover, being able to be back to normal in no time.  Yet on that beach, this was different.  That drained sensation you were experiencing was almost painful for you.  

"You're gonna fall over.  Here, rest against me," Druig said to you softly, almost in a gentle command as he was against your side. You stayed still for a second more, not wishing to have Druig take on that weight that you had but no longer could feel.  Sure you were about to collapse on the beach ground and sink into the sand, but the last thing you wanted to do was have Druig take on your weight.  

"Come on, lean over," Druig urged, placing his arm around your shoulders and was moving you before you could protest.  You were leaning against him, his armor against yours, and his head against your hair as you sighed deeply with your head on his shoulder.  So many things were making you so tired, so worn down to the bare minimum.  It was hard to pinpoint one thing and try to release it.

Ajak and Gilgamesh dying. Ikaris and Sprite betraying your family. The world almost ending and the birth of a Celestial. Being with your family again.

"It's gonna be okay, you know," Druig reassured him calmly as you were dozing in and out of his embrace, having you take in a sharp breath and shiver a bit in the breeze, "Let's look on the bright side of this whole thing,"

"What bright side?" You croaked out, leaning against Druig a bit more.

"Well for one, we stopped an Emergence from happening and saved the human race from extinction," Druig explained lightly, trying to liven the mood between the two of you.  You hummed, having to agree with him on that statement as he went on, "And secondly, I got to hit Sprite over the head with a rock."

With the mention of her name, you cracked an eye open to look over at Sprite and Thena, seeing them both still in a serious conversation with one another.  You had to snort, not being able to hold it back as you even heard the lightness and cockiness in Druig's tone when he said it.

"Druig, that's terrible," you mumbled in a snort as Druig chuckled.

"It's not," he replied smoothly, "You don't know how long I've wanted to hit her over the head, having to hear all of her woes and sarcasm.  It got nauseating.  I'll give you a hint: it's been centuries," You grinned, not being able to help yourself with the image of Druig hitting Sprite with a rock.  Although you weren't there, Druig told you about it when you reunited on the beach right after you stopped Tiamut, to which you were shocked and yet amused at the same time.  You sighed then, feeling only a pinch better with the humor that Druig was trying to give you.

You two were already playful together, ever since you woke up on the Domo at the very start.  There was a lightness with how Druig teated you, it was never intense or strenuous.  You liked to joke together constantly,  always laughing together and having joy between the two of you.  

Throughout the years, watching the rise and fall of civilizations together side by side, you soon realized that there was more to Druig than just his jokes and his brand of sarcasm and aloofness.  There was a deep sense of humanity in him, you saw it in him more than the others.  Even more thank Ajak and Sersi, the other two Eternals that adored humans.  Druig's was organic, with no need for structure for his adoration for the human race.  He was more than his mind control, and you were slowly finding feelings for him throughout the years together.  But when the Eternals split up, which Druig started himself, you decided to bury those feelings and not think about them again.  It took you some time, only thinking of it as some kind of schoolgirl crush and nothing more.

It was for the best anyways.

"How long until you think you'll get your strength and energy back?" Druig asked you calmly, his gentleness was back with you as you felt some sleepiness come over you then.

"Not for several hours," You mumbled back to him, "I can't even move from my spot…"

"Well, we'll be here for a while so you don't have to move.  Rest against me until we get the ship fixed," Druig said to you gently, "I'll stay here with you and keep you company,"

"Thank…you," You hummed, your head against his shoulder now as there was no more once of energy left in you.  You fell asleep against his shoulder, the gentle wind on your cheek and his arm around you almost like a blanket.  You never had a real deep moment with Druig in the past, but you also knew that Druig had a heart. He was a bit of a softie in secret, never showing it in front of a lot of people including you.  But you knew he was, you saw it when he thought no one was looking. It was one of the things that made you fall for him: The gentleness about him and the way he cared.  

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Maldives 2 Days Later

Sleep was a blissful thing you always loved.  

It was a running joke in the family: you loved and craved sleep.  Sleep was the main way of recovering from your cosmic energy loss, sleeping for several hours at a time just to get some energy back in your system.  Sprite even called you a Sloth at one time, able to fall asleep in any spot and any position when you knew your energy was low.  If Druig was the heavy sleeper in the family, then you were the stone-dead sleeper.  There were at least 3 earthquakes and 1 typhoon you slept through, so it was no surprise that you craved a deep sleep every once in a while.  

You noticed the sheets under you were white Egyptian cotton, crisp against your skin and it kept you cool in the very slight humid air that was around you.  The sweet smells of the flowers growing outside your window and the ocean spray coming into your room made you finally wake up.  Your other senses were waking you up before your sight, the sounds of the waves, the feeling of the warmth of the island air, it was all there.  Slowly, with a deep inhale through your nostrils to finally breathe in the flowers, you opened your eyes.  

From your spot in the white bed you were in, the bedroom door was held slightly open.  The ceiling fan was slowly rotating, having you hear the creak with every turn.  You looked around the room, seeing some of the expensive yet tasteful trinkets and paintings on the walls in the master suite you were in.  Sitting up in the bed, you slightly stretched out your limbs and felt a wave of relief coming through you from your slumber.  Compared to the bed you were in and the expensive decor that was in the bedroom, you felt very out of place.  Slowly, you slipped out of the bed and grabbed the navy blue thin robe to throw on over your pajama shirt and boxer shorts.  Even the robe felt like luxury having you peer down and see the golden "K" on the left side near the top.  

"Dang, Kingo," you hummed, walking over to the bedroom door that slide open with ease.  

There was a living room and combined kitchen in front of you, a modern-looking setup with a hint of island decor and some rustic style too.  Something you would see come out of a celebrity magazine, which made sense since this place belonged to Kingo.  The pristine kitchen with plenty of gadgets on the countertop, the living room with fresh orchids in a glass vase on the coffee table with a massive flat-screen TV with one too many remotes for your liking.  The tan and white walls, the picturesque view of the private beach right outside, and down the few steps from the bungalow, it was all paradise.  Everything about this place screamed success and wealth, and yet you were sporting an old shirt and pajama boxers.

Kingo, after hearing about the success of stopping the Emergence and feeling guilty for not helping, offered his vacation home as an olive branch or a peace offering.  The rest of the family had no ill feelings against him, they knew he was conflicted in not wanting to participate because he felt Arishem was right.  Kingo didn't want to hurt his family in the process, so bowing out was his best case.  

When he offered his vacation home, one of his 5 vacation homes to be exact, the rest of the team declined.  Makkari was keeping an eye on Thena while Thena decided to stay for a while at Ajak's farmhouse in South Dakota, Sersi was going to take Sprite back to London for Kingo to watch over, and Phastos wanted to go back to his husband and son in Chicago.  

Knowing you had nowhere else to go for the time being and the sound of sleeping away in peace and quiet was extremely tempting, you took the offer.  And you weren't alone.

"Mornin' sleepyhead," Your head moved over to the hallway near the kitchen, seeing Druig walking out of the hallway with a small smile on his face.  He was already wide awake in comparison to your sleepiness that was still in your eyes, sporting a clean gray shirt and dark shorts.  It was a contrast to the black attire he has worn since you found him in the Amazon a week prior, but he also looked more relaxed and almost calm.  It took you by surprise for a brief moment, seeing him watch you while he walked over to the kitchen to the very expensive coffee machine.

After you took the offer to come to Kingo's hidden bungalow, Druig agreed to the offer too.  Sure it shocked you that he would want to accompany you, he would be the last person that would want to come to a place like this, and with you.  When would you ever picture yourself being alone with Druig for a solid week?  Especially in a place that was pure paradise.  Yet you also knew there was no real harm in having someone else there with you, not being there completely on your own for several days.  Druig was never bad company anyway, so what was the worst that could happen?

"Morning," You said in a soft tone as you walked over to the kitchen island, sitting on the stool while Druig was getting two cups of coffee ready at the counter, "How long was I asleep for?"

"Well, we got here yesterday at around 2 pm…. and you passed out by 2:30.  So….since then," Druig answered as he passed you your coffee mug.  You wrapped your fingers around the mug, the warmth coming against your fingertips through the ceramic surface while you were doing the math in your mind.

"Over 15 hours," You breathed out, taking a long drink from your cup.  Even the coffee tasted expensive, you were so used to the watered-down Mr. Folgers in your 20 dollar Mr. Coffee maker.  

Druig gave a low whistle, almost in shock himself as he was gazing at you, "I think that's your new record," Druig commented while he leaned back on the counter with his arm crossed, drinking from his cup.  You shook your head as you placed your mug on the surface.

"Remember The Plague?" You asked him, seeing him pause with the mug against his lips, "I was out for 19 hours in that barn after stopping three Deviants wipe out that entire village in the middle of the night."

"Oh yeah," Druig said with raised eyebrows, having you grin sleepily, "Totally forgot about that.  Kingo thought you caught the Plague when you didn't wake up after 13 hours, he had to check if you were breathing.  It was kind of awkward, up until you nearly punched his lights out when you woke up and he was right at your face,"

You laughed lightly from the memory, seeing Druig grin from the memory as well before you cocked your head at him.

"What were you up to while I was asleep?" You asked him, purely curious since you knew Druig was more of a loner than anything, "Don't tell me you got bored in this home since it looks like Kingo has anything and everything,"

Druig snorted, shaking his head before he pointed with his mug to the opening out to the beach, "I explored the area a little bit.  It's a cool little island out here, we have it all to ourselves, you know."

"I wouldn't expect anything less from Kingo.  In that case, I'll have to explore it today after I wake up some more," you comment before you took another drink.

"I'll join you," Druig said in agreement, making you pause for a split second from hearing that Druig was willing to come along with you.  Druig saw you pause, almost shifting against the counter and feeling a bit uneasy now before he clear his throat, "Unless you don't want me to,"

You weren't betting on having Druig join you out on the island, yet you weren't against it.  It surprised you in all fairness, it didn't seem like Druig to be out on a private island in a luxury bungalow.  He was more down-to-earth, humble in his way of life.  You saw it in the village he created and ran for 500 years, not taking a single thing for granted.  Such a contrast to Kingo, yet you love them both the same.

"I would love for you to join me," You reassured him, seeing him give you a grin as you leaned forward a bit in your stool, "By the way Druig, thanks for coming out here with me.  I know this whole thing," You paused to gesture to the amenities and setting of the room around you, "It's not your scene.  It's not mine either, but I'm glad you're here with me.  You didn't want to go back to your village?"

"They don't need me anymore," Druig replied with a shrug before he placed his coffee mug on the countertop and ruffled his hair, "I've never fully controlled them anywho, they could leave whenever they pleased.  I've done it for 500 years and maybe it's time for a change.  Besides, I wanted to spend time with you,"

The last part made you smile sweetly at him, almost feeling butterflies in your lower stomach in chairing that he wanted to spend more time with you.  Druig was very selective in who he wanted to be friends with and to confide him.  Makkari was one of the rare ones that were in his inner circle, probably the only one.  That never bothered you in the past, yet now it felt like he was wanting to let you in a bit more and perhaps truly get to know you after being around each other for 7,000 years.  So being there, alone with Druig on a private island, was the perfect opportunity to do so.  

You just saved the world from ending, and with no threat to worry about, the next 7 days should be a cakewalk.

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The island was tiny enough to walk around on but big enough to find plenty of things to explore.

It was a private island that was nestled against a bigger resort that was 10 miles away, the only access was a boat.  Kingo has owned the little island for at least 100 years, using his other aliases throughout the decades to pass it down and keep it under his "name".  According to Kingo, it was very rare that he would have someone stay at his bungalow, you and Druig were the first ones in the last 20 years.  

The bungalow itself was nestled in the floral jungle ground, the white sands touching the front porch that lead to the prestige and private beach that stretched out left and right of the small home.  You were staying in the Master Suite, feeling a bit bad that Druig was in the second bedroom.  Although in your opinion, there was no real difference between the two, you still felt bad that you had the suite to yourself.  So you offered it to Druig, but he didn't mind the second room and letting you have your own space.  

There was a dock about a quarter of a mile away from the bungalow, the only way to and from the island with a boat being a phone call away from the resort.  Kingo left you and Druig only a page of basic information, phone numbers to call for an emergency. A number he left was for someone at the resort so they could deliver you anything and everything either of your wanted or needed.  For the first few days, you both made up a basic grocery list and called it in early in the morning, seeing a small boat coming in an hour later with your food and some other amenities.

The first two days were spent just lounging around on the island itself.  You found yourself outside most of the time when you weren't in bed and deep in positive slumber.  Having the white sands in your toes and collecting sea glass that was hidden away in the nooks and crannies of the shore, seeing so many different species of flowers and vegetation that you wished you knew their Latin names, and just feeling the sun against your skin to give you a hint of a sunburn on your cheeks and shoulders as you walked along the beach.

One of your favorite things to do was to place your feet in the water during the sunset, touching the water along your feet and near your ankles while you were seeing the sky in the extra colors that reminded you of an oil painting.  You thought you've seen beautiful sunset before, but the sunsets you saw on the island blew the rest of them away instantly.  You saw so many shades of pink and purples swirl together in patterns and smooth textures up above you.  The water underneath you was crystal clear and showed no blemish or stain to it, calming you down from the first touch of the water against your toes.  You would spend perhaps an hour or two out on that shore, just watching the sky and breathing in all in to release what was congesting inside of you.

Druig went off on his own from time to time just like you did. You heard him get up early in the morning, way too early for you to wake up yourself, to go on a jog around the perimeter of the island a few times.  You never pegged Druig to be one for being fit or staying physically fit, then again he was running a village out in the Amazon on his own for the past 500 years.  Because of that, you did notice the change in his physique, the lanky arms and legs that he had in the past earlier in your time on the planet were long gone.  There were muscles along his arms and calves, and you are trying not to notice too much when he would walk past you or sit next to you in the earlier afternoons with a book in hand.  

Druig has changed since you saw him last, and jogging was very new.  

"Since when do you jog?" You asked him on the second morning when you were perched at the kitchen island eating some breakfast.  Druig was drinking some water, changing loose pants and a loose shirt after jogging that morning.

"Since I've woken up at the brink of dawn the past 500 years to run a village and community," Druig hummed back smoothly, taking in another drink from his water bottle before he shrugged nonchalantly, "It's a habit I never got rid of,"

You both had meals together in the evening, taking turns in making dinner and swapping meals that you both learned and mastered.  You were a fan of spice, being able to take some heat when you were throwing in spices in the pain.  You made a particularly hot dish that you picked up over in Asia, setting the plate in front of Druig on your first dinner together.  You saw him take a bite, seeing his face morph from comfort into almost pain as he rushed over to drink a tall glass of milk to calm down the heat in his mouth.  You laughed, seeing him give you a playful glare as he chugged down 3/4 of his glass.  

Where you were spicy, Druig was sweet.  Druig had a massive sweet tooth, you remembered plenty of times centuries before when Druig would always have candy in his hands.  He ate everything in general, making you remember to hide your snacks in the Domo so that he wouldn't find them.  Yet now he had no trouble in finding the snacks that were in the kitchen of the bungalow.  He was excited when there was a small stash of chocolates in the pantry, which led to him eating the chocolate out of a bag while lounging on one of the lounge chairs on the front porch.  You grinned from the sight, Druig sporting his aviator glasses in a tank top and shorts with the bag of chocolate on his lap.  

"You look like an old retiree eating your bonbons.  it's a good look on you," You had to joke with him, seeing him slow to react for a moment before he reached down to take a piece of chocolate, throwing it at you in retaliation.  You snatched it in the air and popped it in your mouth, grinning in the process.

There was a new rhythm for the two of you by the third full day together.  He would run in the morning and you would make breakfast, you both would read books out in the sun until lunchtime in silence and peace, almost comparing notes with each other on the certain books you were finding in Kingo's living room and snorting from the scenarios being read. Druig then would make lunch while you would quickly throw out texts to the others to catch up with them and see how they were.  After lunch, you would go swimming in the ocean while Druig would find himself out exploring some of the caves that were on the other side of the smaller island.  By nightfall, you both met up back at the house and made dinner together, then you were winding down on the front porch to look at the stars and call out each constellation by heart.

Druig was an easy person to be around, his soothing nature and the way he walked made you feel like time was slowing down for you. At first, you blamed the island and the luxurious little home you both were in together to almost bring you two closer together as friends, or maybe it was the lost years that you missed getting to know Druig.  But you two were finding yourselves talking about everything and anything together.  The topics you two spoke about were all different: From old Deviant battles that were fought back in ancient times to new inventions that amazed either one of you.  

You were seeing a new side of Druig, almost like a new shade that you've never seen before.  he was exposing himself to you in simpler ways, nearly subtle.  You could see how he was comfortable there with you, telling you all that happened since he left you and the others 500 years ago.  You listened on bated breath, hearing all the triumphs and struggles he went through on his own and you were amazed he still seemed so strong and his true self.  In return, you talked about how to travel everywhere in the world on your own, backpacking through every continent and settling down yourself within the Swiss Alps. You preferred the quiet cooling sounds of the mountains and trees compared to the city, seeing Druig listen to some of your traveling stories with undivided attention.   You two grew close in those moments, and you considered him a good friend.

Day 4 changed everything.

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

You were FaceTiming Makkari that late morning, wanting to gossip with the speedster about the bungalow itself since you never got the chance to take pictures and send them to her.  You knew she was back on Ajak's farm with Thena still, and it was the perfect time to talk to her.  Makkari was always good at letting you in on the latest gossip with the others, she was notorious for keeping you in the know in the earlier years since she was too quick to be caught eavesdropping.  

"Look at this!" You said and signed to her as you were showing Kingo's personal closet in your bedroom.  You showed the screen in the closet, giggling at some of the shirts and outfits that Kingo had stored in there.  So many bright colors and patterns that were so loud in comparison to your own attire, yet it fitted Kingo perfectly.  

You turned the phone back, seeing Makkari's face on the screen as she was gigging on her own of the call.  

"How man shirts does the guy have?" She asked with her signing as you rolled your eyes.

"This is Kingo we're talking about," You explained as you propped the phone up on the dresser to use both of your hands in your signing while you spoke, "But this is a bit much for an island.  You don't want to see what he has stored in his dresser when he brings a girl here….eeww,"

Makkari made a face as you grinned and kept talking to her, "Anywho, how's Thena doing?"

"Better," Makkari signed back smoothly, "She's been riding the horses a lot throughout the day to put her mind at ease."

"She needs peace in her life," You commented to her, giving Makkari a kind smile, "I'm glad you're there with her."

"I'm glad too," Makkari said in agreement, "I missed her a lot when we were all away from each other.  We both have been talking about the chance of other Eternals out in the universe,"

"Other Eternals?" You questioned.

"There has to be since there are other Celestials out there too.  Thena thinks that the other Eternals are on other planets, doing what we have done all this time.  She thinks…..she thinks they need to know their nature.  To find out like we did,"

You said nothing, thinking about what she just said.  There were other Celestials out there, somewhere out in the deep parts of space.  Arishem was just one who made you, so knowing there were other Eternals out there too seemed logical.  What Thena was right?  What if they had no idea they had a choice and could choose life over death?

"She wants to wait until you and Druig come back from your little vacation to tell you, but she's thinking of maybe going out there to find those other Eternals herself," Makkari explained to you with her fingers moving smoothly in front of the screen as she too propped her phone on something to use both of her hands,

"What do you want to do?" You asked her, seeing her look a bit conflicted for a few seconds.  You could see she was about to answer you when you heard the front door of the bungalow opening.  You held up a finger to her to stop her.

"Hold on," you signed and said to her, moving away from the phone and over to the master suite door that was slightly open.  Once you were in sight of the front door, you were frozen in your spot and your mind was short-circuiting  Your eyes went wide and you felt instantly flushed.  

Druig was there, clearly wet from being in the water, and was only sporting swim trunks.

You finally saw the muscles that were hiding under his shirt, clear muscles that were toned and tan from being out in the sun.  There were obvious muscles in his legs, from his mid-thighs down to his ankles.  You saw every curve and every distinct line, making your heart stop for a split second when your eyes went from his legs up to his chest.  

Druig had abs.  When in the hell did Druig get abs?

You were suddenly gasping for air silently seine Druig like this, glistening from being wet after a swim session and his swim trunks clinging onto him.  This was throwing you off, how seeing him like this for one split second made you feel as though you were about to melt to the ground or burst into flames for thinking of Druig in that nature.  It didn't help how his wet hair was falling slightly over his eyes, his bright blue eyes that were twinkling at that moment from the reflection of the water.  You had never felt this while looking at Druig before.

You found him insanely attractive.  

This had something snapped in your gut and chest, those past feelings that you had for Druig were flooding back from just seeing him in simple swim trunks.  You remembered the small glances you gave him, laughing wholeheartedly from one of his jokes, the fluttering in your chest when you sat next to him at meals or heard him give you praise after you subdued a Deviant.  You thought you buried it so long ago, that small school girl crush that would evaporate as time went by.  

Those feelings were back, and you were freaking out.

You heard a tapping on your phone, making you fly back into your bedroom before you could make a sound or have Druig see you.  Once you were back in your room and out of sight, the tapping on the phone continued.  You looked to see it was Makkari, who was tapping to get your attention.  You took in a long breath, trying to shake it off and not show it with her.  She looked confused, not seeing what was going on as you were back in the frame.

"What in the hell?" She signed with an exaggerated look on her face.  You immediately shook your head.

"Nothing," you signed and replied, though she raised an eyebrow at you on her end of the video call, "I just…I had a moment,"

A knock was on the door to your room, making you look over in that direction quickly and too abruptly.

"Hey!" It was Druig on the other side of the door, "I just got back from swimming.  Did you still need some help with dinner for tonight?"

"Y-yeah, I'll be right there," You called back out, trying to sound as normal as possible as you were hearing him walk away from the door.  You sighed in relief, then finally looked at Makkari who was still on the video call with you.  Instead of the look she had previously, she was sporting a new stare at you. Maybe she saw the flushness in your cheeks and on your skin, or how you looked flustered just talking to Druig through a thin door, but she was smirking with her eyebrow still raised.  You grimaced, knowing that you got caught with her.

"Spill!"  She signed in at a fast pace.

And you did.

To be Continued.....

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

A/N: And there is part one for you!  Part Two is on the way with the steam!  Let me know how I did! 

Taglist: 

@bubblyyz , @reallysparklychaos @alessandriapost @tanyaherondale @wooya1224  @spideyswebshooters @vinvantae @hottpinkpenguin​ @mothdruid

[asirensrage]

Title: Where All Roads Meet Rating: T Pairing: Steve x OC x Bucky Fandom: MCU/Avengers Warnings: Soft!Dark!Steve. Soft!Dark!Bucky. Technically sortaDark!Tony? Kidnapping. Biting. SoulmateAU (implied). Summary: For most, finding soulmate is impossible. Which is why when soulmates are found, they trump everything - including your emergency contacts and even guardianship. But soulmates reap what they sow. If you're not happy, neither are they. - She doesn't know why they took her off the street, but their first mistake was refusing her coffee.

Notes: Please READ THE WARNINGS. To be honest, this came from a dream about escaping and then going about my day.

She must look a sight. She knows this and yet she’s far too tired and irritated to care. All she wants is a cup of coffee and one of those chocolate croissants she sees behind the glass. Thankfully she managed to hide her debit card. She’s not entirely sure why they didn’t check her socks but whatever, she’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. She figures they didn’t expect her to be a threat, especially with the way they pulled her off the street. They were looking for someone to keep. She didn’t bother asking why. 

“Are you…okay?” the barista asks. It’s sweet of the girl to ask. 

“Yeah, just fell on my way here.” It doesn’t look like the kid believes her but she didn’t lie. She just didn’t completely tell the truth. She fell…out of a window. She also managed to shimmy through a gap that they probably didn’t think she could. She ripped part of her shirt and the tights that they let her keep on. 

The kid finally hands over the coffee and she takes a sip, ignoring how it burns just so she can taste it. Sweet relief. She takes the croissant and sits down, facing the door. She’s not close enough to the window that she’ll be easily seen if they walk by. She can’t make it too easy. 

She probably should be more concerned about the fact that she was basically stolen by a bunch of heroes but if she’s honest, it felt a bit like a vacation. She didn’t need to worry about work because they had locked her in a room. Sure, her family was probably worried sick but they didn’t talk every day regardless so hopefully there was a bit of time before that. She’s not sure how long it’s been since they found her, since they mentioned giving everything to the world and wanting something in return. Not that she knew why she was apparently part of that plan. She’s seen pictures in the news. They could have whoever they wanted. 

She muses on the thought and orders another croissant and coffee once she’s done the first. She should probably eat something more substantial but with what she’s been through, she deserves it. At least in her opinion. 

 She’s considering what her next step is going to be, when an arm reaches past her heading for the croissant. She turns and bites down, as hard as she can. 

“Shit!” 

The arm yanks back and she digs in just enough to break skin before she lets go. She turns back to her coffee, grabbing the croissant and taking a bite if only to help wash the taste out of her mouth. 

“If you liked it rough, all you had to do was ask.” The person who made the attempt to steal her food moved, lowering themselves into the seat across from her and lounging as though he belonged there. 

She stared at Tony Stark. “Aren’t you rich enough to buy your own food?”

“You really put us out for a spin,” he said, ignoring the question. “Rogers demanded I get Friday to look for you. You know, cash would have been a better option if you wanted to stay under the radar.”

She knows. She could have swiped someones wallet, stuck to the side streets and gotten someone to order for her. She doesn’t say that though, sticking to drinking her coffee. 

 He peers at her over his glasses. “You know I’ve been told people wanted a piece of me but I don’t think they meant it as literally as you did.” 

She ignores him. It must grate on his nerves because it’s not long before he’s leaning forward, still staring at her. 

“You could have gone anywhere. Gone home, I mean sure, first place they would have looked, but why here?” 

“I wanted coffee.” They had refused to give it when she asked. Sticking to water and other healthy alternatives. She was pretty sure it had been drugged but she took what she could and left as soon as she was able. It’s not her fault they weren’t good kidnappers. 

He stares at her like he doesn’t understand. “Huh.”

She glances around. People are staring and talking to one another, likely wondering why Tony Stark is sitting across from a woman who looks homeless. Oh the things she could say. She’s pretty sure someone is recording. She waits. 

Stark seems to notice the others as he pulls out his phone and starts typing. She’s not sure if he’s contacting the others or disrupting any feeds that showcase them as they are now. She knows she’s not getting out of this, but she didn’t expect to. Not when she knew who had taken her in the first place. 

She tunes Stark out as he starts talking. She’s sure she could probably pick apart some of what he says, but they’re in public and despite the image he presents, she’s pretty sure he knows there are things they shouldn’t say…like how they know each other. Sort of. She’s never actually met Tony Stark before this moment. She can’t say that she missed much. 

A hand touches her shoulder and she looks just enough to see that Captain America has joined them. He leans down and kisses her cheek. She doesn’t lean into it but she also doesn’t recoil and she sees his pleased smile at that. 

“Here you are,” he says. “We’ve been looking for you, sweetheart.” 

She stares at him, a little amused at the slight frustration she hears in his voice. She wonders how long it would have taken them if she didn’t use her card. 

A chair scraps forward and she feels her chair shift, just enough so that there’s one on each side of her. She’s being blocked in and she has no doubt there are others. Not like she could get away from the two supersoldiers guarding her. Not like this. James Barnes sits on one side, silent but present and carefully watching the other patrons of the place. Steve sits on the other, turned slightly so he can face her. He looks as though he’s going to try and give her his patented disappointed look that she’s seen on youtube videos. The ones they showed teenagers in school. 

“Gotta watch this hellcat,” Stark says. “Already took a bite out of me.” He shows them his arm which she notices still has her teeth marks. She tries not to look too pleased at that. 

“Shouldn’t touch things that aren’t yours,” she says. 

The men all look at her in surprise. She hasn’t said much through the whole experience, preferring to watch, listen and wait. 

“Tony…” she hears Rogers say. “You touched her.”

Stark somehow looks like he lounges further into the chair. She’s tempted to nudge it. See if he falls off. “Please, I’m innocent. I went for the food, not the girl. ‘Sides, Pepper would kill me.” 

It’s interesting, she notes, that he’s afraid of Pepper for touching her but not for being a part of this thing. He’s not worried about helping them.  

Rogers turns back to her, glancing over her as she sips at her coffee. She’s going to push this as far as she can, make sure she can at least enjoy this cup if it’ll be her last. 

“Why did you leave?” 

“Why did you kidnap me?”

“We didn’t-” she pins him with a look, cutting him off. Rogers takes a deep breath as they both ignore the amused billionaire across from them. “It was explained.”

“I didn’t listen,” she says. “I left because I was refused coffee.”

“You didn’t go home?” Barnes asks quietly. 

“I wanted coffee,” she repeats. 

“You boys caught yourself an addict,” Stark says. 

She remains silent. Even as Barnes puts his arm on the back of her chair. She can feel the heat of it. At least it isn’t the metal one. She’s not sure how that would work against hair and she has no desire to test it out and end up with a bald patch. 

“Sweetheart,” Rogers says. “You can’t just–”

“Do you know my name?” she cuts him off as she asks. 

“Know you–of course we know your name.” He gives it with ease, as though he’s said it a thousand times before despite her hearing it from him now for the first time. It answers some of her questions. They know her. She wasn’t a sudden choice, being just unlucky enough to walk by. She was chosen because they know her. She takes another sip of coffee, thinking about that. 

Rogers’ knee knocks against hers as it presses closer. She’s more closed in than before, with each man next to her shifting closer. It’s almost as though the walls are pressing in on her. It’s not unexpected though. Not since she was locked in that room. 

The soldiers radiate heat. It’s not uncomfortable, at least not yet, but it lulls her into a state of complacency. Or it would if she hadn’t drank two cups of coffee after not having caffeine for how long. 

“Well, isn’t this cozy,” Stark says, looking at them. “Who knew your plan would work? I mean she’s not running. I would have expected her to run though. Further than this. Not that it would have mattered.” 

“Stark,” Barnes’ voice was hard. “Leave.” 

“Alright, Terminator, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

“Tony.” Rogers’ does not sound impressed. 

Stark rolls his eyes and gets up. “Sure, only call me when you need to track someone down. You sure you don’t want to chip her?” 

“I’m not a dog,” she says, deadpan. 

Stark turns to her, looking like he’s about to say something, when Rogers’ stands up. “I’m leaving, I’m leaving.” 

She focuses back on her coffee, ignoring the quiet conversation that sounds like threats between the two men standing. Would they let her get another? Maybe a latte? Something with cinnamon….

“How many have you had?” 

She looks at Barnes who is staring at her. “Hmm?”

He frowns slightly but nods towards the table. “Just the two?”

She narrowed her eyes back at him. “Three once I get the next one.” 

His gaze darts down. “Not four?”

“It’s still early.” 

He grins at her and her breath catches. He looks younger when he smiles, more carefree. Even as his arm moves slightly closer to her shoulders. If they were alone, she knows that he would not hesitate to touch her. She’s surprised he’s holding back now. He doesn’t have to. Not with the laws that are in place. 

Rogers sits back down next to her. “You scared us, doll.” 

“You locked me in a room,” she replies. She doesn’t look at either of them. Instead she looks over the others in the coffee shop. They’re still staring and talking. She wonders if any of them have figured it out yet. Or they think she’s been rescued by them. 

“Just for a bit,” Barnes says. “Had to make sure.”

She doesn’t bother responding to that. 

“Sweetheart,” Rogers leans in slightly closer. “Come home.” 

She needs a shower and she should probably eat something else than just croissants and coffee. Not that she’ll ever admit it out loud. 

“We’ll make you coffee.”

She looks at Barnes next to her out of the corner of her eye. “What kind?” 

“Whatever you want.” 

“Well…” Rogers trailed off as she noticed Barnes look over her head at him. “Only the good stuff. We can steal it from Tony.”

She snorts slightly into her cup. “Can’t fault that,” she murmurs. She sighs slightly and looks at the men she’s stuck between. “You kidnapped me.” 

“We did,” Rogers agrees. She looks at him in surprise. She wasn’t expecting him to admit it this quickly. “You know why.”

“Hmm,” she doesn’t admit that. “Do you drink coffee?” she asks, diverting the subject. 

“Yeah.”

“How?

“Black,” Rogers says. 

“Same here, doll,” Barnes agrees. 

“Ugh,” she stands up. They follow until she waves them down. “Wait here. I’m ordering more. If we’re going to do this, we need to expand your horizons.” 

She can feel their eyes on her as she orders a couple different drinks, one super sweet just to see their reactions. There’s no way to slip out of here undetected and no use to sound an alarm. So she’ll wait. They might not underestimate her as much, but they’ll get complacent and then she’ll have another chance. If only to keep them on their toes. 

taglist: @raith-way  @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @booty-boggins @residentdormouse @delicateblackrose @stanshollaand @cantfighthemoonknight @chrissymunson 

[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. 

☾

[shiftingwithava]

𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐢'𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐫

dr: chris evans youngest sister

a/n: this was not posted by me, it was posted by chris in this dr. my origin story is based on a dream that i had when i was stuck on my backstory. i didn't script that i made this, but i thought it was one of the sweetest things ever, and wanted to include it on the blog. *picture is not mine, it is from pinterest and the closest one i could find to the one he actually used (it actually included all my older siblings and i) tagging @natashasera

chrisevans tagged: avabug, scottevansgram

liked by octaviaspencer, scottevansgram, and 2,379,802 others chrisevans I know I’m not the most open person in the world when it comes to my family, but I think it’s important that I tell you about the worst thing I’ve done in my entire life. 

This right here is my little sister Avalea, Ava for short. She was born February 23rd, 2006, when I was 28 years old. To say that I wasn’t shocked to become a big brother again at almost 30 would be a lie, but it didn’t make me love them any less. She was the most beautiful baby I had ever laid eyes on, and I vowed to protect them with my life. 

I didn’t do that. When she was 3, I got the role of Captain America, and the day I started preproduction also marks the day I disappeared from their life completely. 

I completely lost touch with her. Even when I was in front of them, I wasn’t present. I wasn’t the brother they needed, more importantly, I wasn’t the brother she deserved. Even during quarantine when I was just down the road, I never made an effort to see them and rationalized it by telling myself it was to keep her and her immune system that isn’t as strong as mine safe.

A week ago, I had just finished filming Ghosted, and was getting ready to fly to Orlando for a family vacation, and see my little sister for the first time in over 2 years. Then, my flight was cancelled. A little annoying, but nothing that my Ma couldn’t solve. It was decided I would ride down with her, Ava and Scott. 

I felt instant guilt when I saw her again. They’d grown so much, and I’d missed it. She wasn’t the toddler I’d left behind, they were a teenager. A beautiful 16 year old who barely knew me. No longer was she the sweet little 6 month old that I took to L.A. during preproduction for Silver Surfer, and bought her too many designer clothes and she definitely wouldn’t look at Tigger like he was nuts when we went to Disneyland on that trip. 

I knew I’d fucked up big time, but I didn’t know how to fix it. I thought that if I was just myself, everything would be fine, so I did just that. 

What I didn’t realize was in my “being myself” I was sending her into sensory overload, and then a meltdown. 

One of the most important things I missed in my years without her was that they have ADHD and are possibly autistic. Ma mentioned it to me a few times, but it flew over my head that was preoccupied with everything but my baby sister who needed me. We were in the hotel room in Nashville a few nights ago, and I was trying to make her laugh. I had been messing around with Scott, and decided to poke them to coax out a smile. 

It had the opposite effect. They were immediately sent into a meltdown, all because of my absence, ignorance, and attempt to make her happy. Being absent, I’d never seen her meltdowns and shut downs, and I won’t say that it wasn’t a shock when they kicked and pushed Scott away. 

Ma came in a moment later and took over, and all I could do to help was hand her their weighted blanket. I felt useless, but what made me feel

like the worst human in the world was when Ma asked her to say thank you to me for the blanket in an attempt to calm her down and get her breathing in check. She shook her head, and said no. When Ma asked her why they said “because he doesn’t like me. He’s never wanted to spend time with me and he probably hates me so why should I say thank you when it won’t mean anything to him?” 

I knew instantly I’d messed up beyond repair. I’d made them think I hated them. That I didn’t care, that I didn’t want to spend time with them, when that was far from the truth. 

My sweet, sweet, Avabug. I love you more than anything. When I see you, my heart explodes with love for you. You and I used to be best buddies. You were my baby girl. I’m not a dad, I don’t know if I will ever be a dad, but you made me feel like one. I’d never felt such happiness and love before you, and I haven’t experienced it with anyone else but you. I completely failed you sweetheart. I made you feel worthless and unloved. I made you think I hated you, when that was far from the truth.  You are my entire world. You always have been. I wish that you could read my mind because if yoj did, you’d be able to see and hear everything. Even when I was absent, I never stopped loving you. I never stopped rooting for you. I was here, separated from you, but waiting for those messages from Ma, Carly, Shanna, and Scott telling me that you won your dance competition. I was on the other side of the world, trying to compose a happy birthday message to you, but failing because I didn’t have the words. Because I didn’t know you. I am so sorry for what I did, my darling. I’ve had so many chances to fix this and I haven’t, and for that I apologize. Just looking at you, sound asleep next to me, while I type this is making me wish I actually was Steve Rogers so I could go back in time and fix the mess I’ve made. I love you, my sweet Avalea. you’re my bubba, my sweetheart, my baby. I’m going to try and fix this, no matter what that takes. I love you, my sweet baby girl. 💙

[billyrussohaven]

For your requests I just know you’d kill something super tension filled that ends in them finally sleeping together. Like they’ve been friends for years and there’s always something like boyfriends or work/army whatever but there’s been sexual tension for years. My fave is long standing lust where no one acts on it then one day someone gives in

A/N: Ooooh! Kinky! Me likey! I hope you enjoy this and that my French ass didn’t make too many English mistakes! ox

Summer Retreat

Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: Explicit 18+

Warnings: Swearing, Smut, Angst, Billy Russo… XD

Hold on to your panties and follow me!

"Sup Munchkin!" Billy said, grinning at you and hugging the bejesus out of you, lifting you off your feet.

"I think I outgrew that nickname, Billy," you chuckled, grinning and hugging him back tightly. He put you back down and helped you with your luggage.

"Holy shit, Russo. You've certainly outdone yourself this year," you said, taking in the "cottage" he had rented for your yearly retreat. It was the fanciest cottage you've ever stayed at…

You've known Billy for years now, you two meeting in school, always being stuck in detentions together. Then he joined the Marine Corps, you went to college and it had been hard to hang out as often as you'd both liked. But once a year, you'd plan a couple of days together somewhere nice and sunny to relax and catch up.

Sometimes he'd bring his partner of the moment, sometimes you'd bring one if you were in a relationship. You remembered one year he even invited his friend's entire family, the Castle's, to come hangout with you two. Billy had worked very hard to be where he was now, ex-Lieutenant, owner of his own company with money coming out of his ears.

You used to split the vacation bills together but in the last few years, you've stopped bothering to fight him on this. He just wouldn't take your money.

You've shared your lunchbox with me for years in school so I wouldn't starve to death. You've shared your home with me when I had nowhere else to go. You've even fuckin' clothed me for prom for fuck's sake,Y/N! You've taken care of me since the day we met at the park, two assholes runnin' away from class because we'd rather be in detention for a week than deal with the 'Bring your dad to school' bullshit. Please, let me take care of you now. Let me spoil you...

You remembered that moment like he said it yesterday. It touched you, how he seemed to remember every little detail of your friendship through the years. So here you were, somewhere in Florida on the front porch of some fancy ass place he had surprised you with once again.

This year was gonna be different though. It'd only be the two of you. As much as it made you happy to spend some quality time with your oldest friend, it made you slightly nervous. You'd be lying if you said you didn't find him ridiculously attractive now. He aged like a fine batch of whiskey, improving as time went by.

You weren't too bad yourself either. You took a few pounds... maybe some new curves here and there adorned fine stretching lines marking your body as time passed. But it was who you were now, a normal woman with normal women's problems. Of course, every girl you've ever seen him with were everything but normal looking. You were glad not to have one parading around this year. You'd be able to forget about how you looked in your swimsuit and just relax without feeling self-conscious.

You walked in, trailing behind him, looking around the place. He dropped your luggages in the bedroom next to his own stuff. You didn't miss how you'd sleep in the same bed this year, sharing the master bedroom. You didn't comment, your attention now to the open doors leading directly outside to a porch and a wonderful view of the Atlantic Ocean.

"Private beach, figured you'd enjoy the privacy and calm," he said, his eyes trailing down your neck to your bare shoulders. The cool salty ocean breeze fanning your hair back in a picture perfect way. Your chest rising upwards as you took a deep breath, his eyes glancing down to a nipple poking through your light summer dress.

"I love it, it's perfect," you said softly, turning to give him a warm smile. He gave you a small hug with one arm, pleased you were happy with the place he had picked. He had missed you dearly but seeing you, touching you had him realizing just how much... His chest filled with warmth as he beamed down at you.

"Come on, let's go enjoy the beach for a bit. I'll go make us drinks," he suggested with a smirk. He already had his swimsuit on with a light shirt. He stiffled a groan at the thought of you in a bikini. You've always been beautiful, blessed with natural beauty all your life. He found you irresistible nowdays, the few pounds gained and your womanly looks pulling at something deep inside him. He wished he could run his hands over your curves, grab at your-

"Huh?" He said, snapping out of his thoughts with you looking back at him amused.

"I said, put extra cherries in mine," you repeated with a small snort. He always did that, space out, lost in his own head.

"Oh! Yeah 'course," he said, smirking. He turned to give you some privacy and walked to the kitchen to make drinks.

You watched him go, closing the door behind him to change. You opened up your suitcase and picked your favorite bikini. You had bought a few for the occasion knowing you were gonna spend a lot of time, if not all the time, in swimwear. You undressed quickly and slipped the small vibrant royal blue bottom and tied up the crisscross wrap top of the same color around your breasts. You tied up a light sheer shawl to your hips and put your sunglasses on. You gave yourself a good look in the mirror satisfied with your appearance and reopened the bedroom door.

"I'll be outside!" You said loudly to Billy walking out with a beach towel and sunscreen under your arm. You flopped down on a comfy lounge chair exhaling a long breath. This was going to be perfect, you really needed the time off.

Billy opened and closed the screen door with his foot. His hands full with two drinks he couldn't wait to sit down and enjoy with you. He groaned quietly at the sight of you laying down all spread and inviting. You had one arm above your head caressing your long hair and the other hand was twirling around the strings holding your bikini bottom. He bit his lower lip putting the drinks down on the small table between the two chairs. You had your eyes closed looking peaceful and serene. He smirked, reaching inside his drink for an ice cube. He put it inside his mouth, enjoying the cold feeling of it before leaning over your body and dropping it right between your breasts making you yelp and curse.

"Really?! You fucking…" you growled at him, throwing the melting ice cube missing him by an inch. He laughed, taking his t-shirt off and throwing it on your face playfully.

"What can I say, I've missed pissin' you off, Munchkin," he teased, laying down on the chair next to you. You threw the shirt back at him with a snort. You did miss the son of a bitch too, quite a lot actually.

After finishing up your second drink, you went for a quick dip in the water and returned to lay down on the lounge chair. Billy was inside the cottage probably preparing a third round of drinks. You rolled on your belly and untied your top off not wanting tan lines. You might have moved the bottom part an inch or two here and there to tan the butt a bit.

Billy cursed under his breath seeing you half-naked and rolled his shoulder.

"By all means, make yourself at home," he teased, sitting back on his own chair.

"What? Don't tell me you never sunbathe naked on your porch up that fancy ass penthouse of yours," you said, moving your sunglasses down your nose to look at him.

He put the glasses down and gave you a challenging look.

"Who says I wasn't planning on doing that here?" He smirked back at you pulling at the string in front of his swimsuit.

You turned your face away when he yanked down his shorts, sitting back down to lay on his own lounge chair. You hid your face in your hands, shocked at his boldness.

"Billy! What the heck!" You said, trying to forget about seeing his short dark pubes before closing your eyes. You felt your cheeks flush and you groaned.

He snorted at your reaction, covering his cock and balls between his legs with the discarded swimsuit. When everything was safely tucked in and hidden, he turned his head to look at you.

"Alright, alright. I'm decent now," he said with a grin, taking a sip of his drink.

You took a peek and sighed. It wasn't much better really but you did your best not to stare.

"You're gonna fucking kill me Russo," you said shaking your head at him.

"Naa...You love it," he chuckled, licking his lips.

***

The day passed by quickly, filled with laughter and lots of alcohol. Maybe a bit too much alcohol.

"It's too fucking hooot! Why can't we turn the A/C on?" You complained, sprawled down on the couch enjoying the foot massage Billy was giving you. He snorted at your complaining, giving your big toe a playful nip.

"'cause we enjoying the nice weather and the beach, brat," he answered, switching to your other foot. He was looking at you, drinking in the little sounds you made as you relaxed under his hands. You were so beautiful lost in the pleasure he was giving you just from massaging you. He wished very much he could be pleasing you another way, a much more satisfying way.

You sat up and yanked your summer dress over your head, leaving you in your bikini. He gave you a sly smirk, raising an eyebrow. He let go of your foot and watched you walk away to the beach. It was night time, the porch lights barely lighting your way. He stood up and watched you from the house, leaning on the doorway. You swam for a while, cooling down in the salty waves looking up to the clear night sky.

Billy groaned watching you walk back to the house dripping wet. The alcohol had loosened you and you had an irresistible sway to your hips. He licked his teeth tilting his head to one side devouring your body with his eyes.

"Eyes are up here," you said steppin' onto the porch looking at him staring at you. The arousal in his eyes made something purr deep inside you. A part of you wanted to push him against the wall and kiss him.

He stayed quiet, his eyes still on you trailing upwards from your hips to your breasts. You heard a small moan escape his lips as he saw your nipples hardening under the cool wet bikini top that hid them.

You stared at each other for what felt like an eternity before you reached behind your back with a shaky hand, your nerves hitting you hard for what you were about to do.

Billy took a few steps forward, closing the distance between the two of you but didn't touch you. His heart was going a thousand miles a minute. He wanted to kiss you, he wanted you but he didn't want to lose you.

You tugged on the knot holding your bikini top, the cloth now barely covering your breasts. You heard him inhale sharply and he looked up into your eyes. He didn't want you to do anything you weren't comfortable with but fuck he wanted to see them. He reached towards you to rest his hands on your hips, barely touching them like he was scared you'd run away.

You looked into his eyes as you reached behind your neck to tug on the knot there, your wet bikini top dropping to the floor between the two of you. He didn't dare look away from your eyes. He was frozen in place for the first time in his life. You swallowed nervously and moved your hands to your hips, placing them over his.

"Y/N...I," he said, resting his forehead against yours. He never finished his sentence as he groaned feeling you tug at both bows holding your bikini bottom. The other piece dropped to the floor next to your forgotten top. Billy closed his eyes tightly, ripping his gaze away painfully from your wet naked body, still not daring to look at it.

His reaction made you frown and feel slightly self-conscious. It had broken the spell over the two of you and you felt the sting of rejection hit you hard.

"I..I'm sorry. I'm-I'm gonna go," you mumbled covering your bare breasts.

"Y/N…" He said but you cut him off, your chest tight and painful.

"Don't. I get it. I'm not perfect looking enough for you," you snapped, picking your discarded bikini up and walking past him to the bedroom.

"Y/N! Stop! Please," he said hurrying behind you, wanting to explain, wanting to tell you everything. You slammed the door behind you but he caught it before it shut.

"Please, listen to me," he tried again softly, looking at you put a light robe on to covering your naked body.

"What is there to tell anyway," you mumbled angrily as you started to pack your things up to leave.

"I hesitated because I don't wanna lose you!" He said loudly, imploring you to stop and listen to him.

"Because I-I love you," he said softly. He hated himself for saying it the second it came out. His lip quivered as he exhaled loudly. You whirled around to look at him, surprise all over your soft features.

"Why do you think I've never settled down with anyone? Cuzz they weren't you! Every single one of 'em, Y/N. I'd always compare 'em to you and not a single one was good enough.  Cuzz they were you Munchkin, they weren't you," he said, his voice wavering near the end making him turn his face away for a moment.

"Billy," you whispered, reaching to caress the side of his face so we'd look at you. You hated to see the pain in his dark watery eyes, how vulnerable and scared he was. He reminded you of the boy sitting alone at the park with his snail pet.

"Don't tell me we've both been in love with each other for the past decade, too scared and stubborn to come out with it first?" You said with a sad chuckle, knowing that was exactly it. He chuckled, the sound wet and filled with pain.

"Takes one to know one, huh?" He said sniffling and rolling his shoulder.

You stared at each other's, the tension building up as time itself seemed to stop for a moment. You moved at the same time he did, yanking you to him and kissed you deeply. He put everything he ever felt for you into that kiss. All his love, his lust, his need for you over the years. He kissed you like he meant to since the day he met you.

You kissed him back with the same hunger, the same passion. Your hands cradling his face and caressing his soft dark hair. You broke the kiss gasping for air, your forehead resting against his and he held your body close to his. You opened and slid the robe off your body, offering yourself to him for a second time that evening.

He growled, taking his shirt off and devoured your lips once more. The kiss was dirty and needy, all the pent up lust of the last years surfacing. He kissed your neck, your shoulders, grabbed at your breasts like you were the first woman he'd seen after a decade. It was in a way. You hurried to help him out of his swimsuit kissing him languidly as he walked you backward to the bed.

You broke the kiss to move up on the bed and lay down. He smirked darkly down at you, kicking his shorts before crawling on top of you like you were his prey. You gasped seeing him naked in all his glory. He looked even better than you had ever imagined in your best wet dreams. He caged you under him, his strong arms on each side of you.

"Please, take me Billy," you whispered, caressing his chest, your hips rubbing against him. He groaned almost coming undone at your words.

"With pleasure," he growled. He grasped your jaw tightly and kissed you hard, grinning.

"...Right after I'm done eating that pussy," he said in a deep voice filled with arousal. He sat back on his heel between your open legs.

You bit your lower lip as you looked at him caress your inner thighs. He hummed, spreading your folds with his fingers before diving right in. He moaned when the taste of you hit his tongue. It felt like heaven, his face buried between your legs kissing and licking every inch of your wet cunt.

You moaned loudly, grabbing at his hair. Your beautiful face flushed, your lips parted as you moaned and gasped at the heavenly pleasure.

"Oh God! Yes! Fuck me. Fuck my tight little cunt," you mewled between loud gasps.

A sly smirk appeared on his face at your words. Looks like his Munchkin had a dirty mouth on her in bed. He fucking loved it.

"Yeah? You think you deserve my cock, brat?" He asked, slapping your ass hard.

"Yes!" You exclaimed, your hips grinding your pussy over his face. He chuckled over your clit, giving it a playful nip as he sat back on his heels.

You whined loudly and moved up on your elbows wondering why the fuck he was stopping. He opened his arms in a welcoming gesture and offered his dick with both hands, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

"All yours baby girl," he said, raising an eyebrow up in a challenging manner.

You chuckled, pouncing on him like all the times you played roughhouse together. You rolled down to the bed straddling his lap still grinning like an idiot. You rubbed your pussy over his dick and it felt glorious. You bit your lower lip and closed your eyes at the feeling. You moved your hips around, rubbing the head of his cock to your opening.

"Please remain seated and fasten your seat belt," you said with your best flight attendant voice.

He bursted out loud laughing under you and gasped loudly feeling your tight pussy around his cock. He chuckled a bit more, thrusting upwards violently, almost making you fall off his lap with a small squeal. He loved this. He loved how you two were still the same idiots together. Two idiots very much in love and finally together.

"Seat belts, baby," he warned with his usual smirk. You chuckled and held on to his shoulders as you found a matching pace. A beautiful frown of pleasure adorned your perfect face as you rode him hard.

"Look at you, fuckin' yourself on my cock like a needy little brat," he teased, moving his arms up, hands resting behind his head as he let you do all the work.

"Look at you being all lazy letting a brat take over your cock," you teased back knowing very well he was gonna be pissed.

His eyes snapped wide open and he glared back at you.

Oh…

He grabbed you by the throat and rolled you off his lap, pining you under him. You were face down, laying on your belly, one of his hands pushing your head into the mattress and the other on your back. He pulled your head back by your hair making you gasp.

"How about I remind you who's boss here, Munchkin?" He warned in your ear.

You rubbed your ass against his cock and nodded quickly, soft little whines leaving your lips.

"Yes. Please, put me in my place," you whispered rubbing back against his hard cock.

He groaned, moving his dick to your opening and sliding back in with a long moan.

"Fuck. You feel so fuckin' good around my dick, Munchkin," he groaned. You whined, urging him to start moving, start fucking you already.

He moved to a push up position over you and started thrusting. It was fast and shallow, his hips barely brushing your buttcheeks before sliding back out. You moved your ass up, whining loudly under him,

"Please! Fuck me deep, claim me, fill me," you begged trying to snap your ass to his hips. He laughed delightedly at how much of a little needy whore you were in bed.  He moved, yanking your ass upwards by the hips roughly and slammed himself back into your cunt making you scream loudly.

"Yeah? Babygirl wants to get all filled up?" He asked, his voice raw with desire and pleasure. He gripped you by the hips and fucked you hard, slamming into your cunt with obscene wet sounds.

"Yes! Fuck!" You screamed, moving on all four to meet his hard thrusts. It felt amazing, he felt amazing finally taking you after all this time.

He felt his orgasm building up deep inside him and he moved you around on your back. He slid back into you, holding your face between his large hands kissing you.

"I love you," you said breathlessly, wrapping your arms and legs around him, moving in perfect sync with him pressed to your body.

"I love you too, Munchkin. I've always loved you," he whispered, resting his forehead on yours with a moan. He was so close, too close. He reached down to rub hard at your clit but slowly. You made small noises of pleasure as your climax build up with each thrust.

"Come for me baby, let me feel you," he whispered over your lips, nuzzling your nose. He felt you clench down hard around him and you came in loud gasping moans under him. Your pussy tightening up pushed him over the edge with a loud gasp. He pressed his forehead to yours as you rode your orgasms together, kissing and panting.

He flopped down on top of you, being careful not to put all his weight on your body. You hummed pleasingly at the feeling, you felt so safe in his arms, so in love. He moved up slightly to look at your beautiful face, running his hand in your messy hair.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmured before kissing your soft lips again. He could stay here in bed kissing, cuddling and making love to you for the rest of the vacation. You grinned and kissed him back languidly, ready for more.

"How about a blowjob on the beach?" You proposed, licking his lower lip.

He groaned.

Maybe he wouldn't stay in bed after all...