#head in my hands.. her father left 10 years ago but she still believes in him and goes HES NOT A TRAITOR

[ankhisms]

have i mentioned that i love rinne so much. i love rinne

[ryeriy]

slipping through my fingers | lewis hamilton

-> summary: Lewis is watching is daughter slip away through his fingers

-> pairings: dad!lewis hamilton x mom!reader

-> a/n: this was a really cute idea in my head but I hope it turns out okay 😭

mamma mia series

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15 years ago, January 29th

It was just a few hours ago that little Savanna was born into this world. She had already been adored by both of her parents that loved her so much in these first few hours.

"She's quite cute isn't she?" Lewis said while looking down at the baby girl in his arms. Savanna was swaddled in blankets and being held by her father. Y/n looked over at Lewis as he held their newborn daughter. Even though y/n was very tired, she couldn't help but to slightly smile.

"Probably gets that from me." Y/n let out a soft laugh. Lewis laughed too.

"I couldn't agree more with that one," Lewis smiled at the baby in his arms that's his.

He couldn't believe that something this perfect and tiny was his. He has a child now and if felt so unreal to him still. It felt like to him it was only yesterday she was showing him the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, now he was holding his baby girl in his hands.

"I wish I could just freeze this moment and treasure it, it's so peaceful."

"Me too..." y/n agreed.

Y/n looked over at Lewis holding their daughter smiling at the sigh of it. They're finally a family after nine whole months of waiting. Their lives couldn't have been any better.

10 years ago, September 1st

"Okay, do you have everything you need Savanna?" Y/n asks as she grabs her daughter's Hello Kitty backpack, putting it onto her back.

The five-year-old nods her head and looks up at her mom. "Yes, mommy, you asked me that before we left the house too!" Savanna giggled in response. "I know, I'm just making sure!" Y/n smiled at her daughter and pulled out her phone from her pocket.

Lewis was standing next to y/n looking at Savanna and smiling at her. He leaned down to kiss her head and ran a hand through her hair. Savanna clung to Lewis hugging him.

"Okay fine...just one more picture though!" Y/n let out a soft laugh opening her camera.

"Mommy! I've got to go!" Savanna giggled again putting a smile on her face. She pulled away from Lewis standing in front of both of her parents.

"Just one more hug?" Y/n asked looking at Savanna getting down to her level to hug. Savanna ran up into her mother's arms embracing her mom. Y/n kissed her forehead and smiled at her. "Okay, okay! Just have fun and we'll pick you up after school?"

"We can even go for ice cream later!" Lewis exclaimed as he kneeled in front of Savanna. Both of them were smiling ear to ear pulling her into a tight hug.

"Yay!" Savanna exclaimed wrapping her arms around Lewis' neck.

Savanna pulled away one last time and looked around seeing other kids laughing and playing. She looked eager to go meet new kids and looked back up at her parents. Lewis and Y/n were standing next to each other. Lewis had his arm wrapped around y/n as they both had their eyes on Savanna. "Go, go have fun!" Lewis said to her and y/n smiled.

Savanna smiled at them and ran off to the entrance of the school where the other kids were. She turned around looking back at her parents, waving to them. "Bye, mommy! Bye, daddy!" She smiled and ran up to a group of kids.

Lewis and Y/n waved back and softly smiled at Savanna. They couldn't believe that she was growing up so fast. It was their daughter's first day of school and she wasn't looking back and rethinking.

8 years ago, July 25th

"You'll do great, sweetheart," Lewis hugged Savanna.

Today was Savanna's first big gymnastics competition. She's had competition before but nothing this big. There were so many other girls her age competing. It was quite intimidating, especially for a seven-year-old girl. Lewis and y/n would be there though to support their daughter even if they had to watch her from afar, they were still supporting her.

"You promise?" Savanna looked up into her father's eyes.

"I promise you, me and mom are going to be in the stans cheering you on the entire time, okay?" Lewis comforted her. He gently brushed a strand of curly hair out of her face.

Savanna hugged Lewis and y/n with a wide smile on her face. She took her water bottle and her bag with her and ran off to go with her team. Lewis held onto her hand until she started to turn away from him. Both parents were proud of their daughter and how far she's come along.

Savanna placed fourth overall in her events. Even though she didn't get first place, she still got a medal and a proud smile on her face.

"Mommy! Mommy! Daddy! Daddy!" The little girl came rushing up to her parents smiling at them. Savanna barely had her bag on her back and her water bottle hanging her tiny fingers. "Look! Look! I got a medal!"

"Oh, look at that!" Lewis looked at her and hugged her tightly. He placed a kiss on her forehead. "You did really good sweetheart."

"We're so proud of you, baby!" Y/n said as she looked at her daughter and smiled.

"Can we get some ice cream now?" Savanna looked up at Lewis and y/n with puppy dog eyes.

"Yes, we can go get ice cream now," y/n laughed softly and kissed her daughter's head.

Savanna smiled widely and let out a giggle. She was so excited to go get ice cream after a well-deserved day full of gymnastics. "Yay!"

Present Day, January 29th

"Happy birthday dear Savanna, Happy birthday to you! Blow out your candles, sweetheart."

Y/n smiled as she took a photo of Savanna, who was sitting in front of her cake with fifteen lighten candles on top of it. Lewis was next to y/n smiling at his daughter as blew out all fifteen of the candles on top.

"God, you're so old now!" Y/n joked as she smiled and looked at Lewis and Savanna.

"It's like yesterday you were in my arms for the first time and your mom was fawning all over you!" Lewis laughed and so did y/n while Savanna cringed.

"You guys are acting like it's a big deal, I'm only fifteen!" Savanna said as she looked at her parents.

Only fifteen.

That was the only thing Lewis could think of. He didn't realize it but his little girl was growing up right in front of him. He remembered thinking back on the day she was first born, when he said to y/n, "I wish I could just freeze this moment and treasure it, it's so peaceful." He wishes he still could.

[laurasimonsdaughter]

Could you send me a link to your sequel to The Swineherd?

Ehhhh, I wrote that a full 10 years ago, at the end of 2014. I think I did put it up on FictionPress once, but I took it down ages ago.

You're very kind for asking and I will put the story under the read more, but...the passage of time etc. etc.

Also, it doesn't include the story that came before, so it will make more sense if you read Andersen's tale first.

What of the banished princess?

The emperors daughter, driven off by her father, abandoned in the woods, sat down sadly and bowed her head. Her cooking pot and magic rattle did not bring her joy now, she was all alone and so desperate that big tears ran down her pretty face.

She was so engrossed in her own misery that the princess did not hear at first that a set of wagons was approaching. When she finally looked up they were quite close. The wagons were laden with cloth and timber and heavy trunks and a cheerful looking couple smiled at her from the first of the two.

“Look here, look here,” said the plump woman sitting on the wagon box. “A fine lady sitting all alone on a tree stump.”

The wagons halted and the woman and man looked at her. They did not seem unfriendly, but the princess was scared nonetheless.

“Who are you then, fine lady?” the man asked cheerfully.

The princess dared not say she was the emperor's daughter. They would not believe her, and besides, she could not go back there. So perhaps she wasn’t the emperors daughter any more.

“I am an actress,” she said. “But…but I’ve been left behind by my company.” She knew actresses belonged to travelling companies, for there had been a few performances at the palace.

“Och, dearie” the woman said sympathetically. “But then you are in good company, for we are all of us performers. Your troupe must have gone on to the next town, climb up and perhaps you will still catch them.”

The princess climbed up on the wagon box and smiled weakly at the couple. “Thank you,” she said.

“They’ve had you playing the princess too long!” joked the man. “You sound right posh!” And he roared with laughter.

The woman merrily laughed along and the princess tried to look amused. The man urged his horses and called to the wagon behind and so they all set off together.

The princess listened to the happy chatting of the travelling company until they reached the town the woman had spoken of and the wagons stopped at the inn.

“There we are, girly,” the woman said. “Now, where might your company have gone?”

The princess summoned all her courage. “To be honest I had much rather stay with you, if I may,” she said. “They were never very nice to me and you are.”

The woman laughed heartily. “Life’s too short to be unpleasant to people,” she said. “But we don’t do much in the way of fine acting, girly. We do farces and tricks, things to make the folks laugh. Is there anything you can do in that line of entertainment?”

The princess wasn’t quite sure what she meant, but she thought of her playthings that she still had with her, now wrapped in her fine silk shawl.

“I can predict what people are eating all over the city,” she said. “And I have a wonderful rattle that can play every waltz and jig you’ve ever heard of.”

The woman clapped her hands. “Well that surely is a good start!” she said. “You can gather a crowd with your fortune telling and we shall see about your music for in between acts. We don’t perform any fine dancing, but every crowd likes a jig!”

Before the princess could answer the doors of the wagon opened and four children tumbled out.

“There you are, my sleepyheads!” the man called out. “Go and great girly over there.”

The children crowded around the princess and asked her who she was and where she came from and what she could do. And when she’d told them they asked to see her rattle and asked to see her predicting cooking pot and they would have asked a million things more, had their mother not told them it was time for them to go into town and advertise their presence.

So the children, clad in brightly coloured clothes, ran down the streets, yelling and laughing and jumping like acrobats.

“Come along,” the woman told the princess as the motley crew began to take the trunks off the wagon. “We’ll get us some rooms and you out of that cumbersome costume.”

So the princess changed out of her clothes of satin, silk and lace and put on borrowed clothes.

“You look just as fine as I did when I still fit that dress,” the woman laughed. And she took down the princess’ elaborate up-do and braided her hair sensibly down her back. When the princess looked at herself in a small mirror she hardly recognised herself.

“The children will be back before long and the lads will have put up the stage soon enough in this fine weather, let me see what that rattle of yours can do and see if we can’t make some music to draw a crowd.”

The princess had much rather stayed inside, but she told herself: “I am a performer now and these people are very nice to me, so I must go out and try to be entertaining.” The princess had never needed to be entertaining before, because a princess must always be entertained by others.

But she bravely went out onto the town square where the stage was being built and started to swing the rattle. Wonderful dancing music streamed through the air. Soon the children came running and started dancing and frolicking. The princess laughed and she started dancing herself. She swung the rattle high above her head and whirled round and round with the children.

Passers-by slowed down to watch them and a small crowd began to gather. The man climbed on top the still-bare stage and called out in a strong, melodic voice:

“Come one! Come all! Come for the music, stay for the comedy!”

The children darted into the crowd and took people by the hand to dance with them. Some young men led laughing girls into the clearing and soon lots of people were dancing and laughing and whirling.

The man and woman who led the theatre troupe were very pleased. They could tell the princess was not used to this kind of thing at all, but she made the most wonderful music and she was pretty and merry, and that is worth a lot in entertainment.

The play was a great favourite with the crowd and in between acts there were tumblers and jokes and juggling, and the princess cooked a stew in her magical pot until the little bells started singing and the princess mysteriously waved her fingers through the smoke and then said:

“Your wife is cooking you meatloaf, sir,” or: “The maid is letting the roast apples burn, ma’am.”

And the people all laughed and told her that they’d see about that when they came home, but they tipped her very well. After all, predicting the future was one thing, predicting what’s for dinner is quite another.

So the first performance was a great success and they could all return to the inn with high hopes for tomorrow.

The following performance was even more popular. And so many people asked to see the girl that could predict so accurately what was being cooked for dinner, that the princess stood stirring her cooking pot until the very moment the first act began.

The woman was extremely pleased. “You’re a great addition to our company,” she said. “I’m not sorry you were left behind in that forest!”

The princess was not really sorry any more either. She liked the band of actors, who were all so eager to be on stage. She liked the hustle and bustle of laughing people and wondering children. She even liked the stains on her skirt and the runs in her stockings, for that meant she needn’t be so careful all the time.

The troupe left the town and went on to another and the princess stayed with them. She laughed and sung with the children. She tried her best to help the woman with cooking and laundry and dishes, even though she was not very good at it.

In this way the princess went from town to town and as time passed she began to forget the pleasures of life at court. She cut up her silk and satin clothes to make costumes for her new companions.

The princess learned to proclaim and sing, but also to clean and cook. She learned many things and they replaced her perfect vowels, cross-legged curtsies and even the one song she could once play on the piano.

After a while the woman was less anxious to always keep the princess by her side and sometimes she rode in the wagon with the other actors, or walked behind it with one of the young actors, who was so good at fine speeches and tumbling somersaults. He was a kind, cheerful fellow and the princess liked him. He taught her how to join in the puppet show, which could perform even where there was no room for a stage. And he saved the best bedding for her whenever they were obliged to sleep on the road for a night or two.

One day the young man said: “We’ll be passing by the emperor’s palace and pa says we might try to get a gig there.”

The princess felt very strange, but she said: “Oh, I would like to play the palace. I played there once before.”

He had always thought that the pretty girl must have been a very fine actress and he asked what her part had been.

“I played the princess,” she answered. “And very convincingly too.”

“I’m sure you did!” laughed he.

The closer they got to the palace, the more nervous the princess became. She wondered if her father would recognise her and then she wondered even harder if she would want him to.

The wagons stopped in the palace courtyard and several servants and their children ran out to hear news from far away and to see if there was any novelty to be had.

The emperor heard the consternation and said: “What is all that racket?”

“A theatre troupe, your highness,” a footman said with a bow. “Actors, dancers and acrobats, come to amuse the court with your permission.”

The emperor walked to the window and looked down. He saw the wagons and besides them he saw a rag tag of cheerfully clad people. They were laughing and bowing and jumping about. Men were cracking jokes and children were playing and a merry girl sat atop one of the wagons, swinging her bare feet.

“Send them away!” the emperor ordered, turning his head from the sight of such dirt poor happiness. “I am in no mood for their antics!”

The footman bowed and hurried downstairs.

So the theatre company piled into their wagons again and left. They laughed at the grumpy emperor and waved at the cheering children that ran with them for a while.

“His loss,” laughed the young actor.

“And who needs him!” cried the princess, sitting beside him on the wagon, and she laughed with relief.

So now they laughed together, nicely side by side on the wagon box and the woman riding behind them thought they looked uncommonly well together.

The young actor must have thought so too, because a week later he brought the princess a stray kitten that he had found and asked if she’d like to go dancing with him.

The princess was delighted, she’d always wanted a kitten and she the young actor more than any other, and laughed at him for thinking she might not want to go dancing with him.

So out dancing they went, and come back laughing they did. And one fine summer day a wedding was held with bright colours and loud voices and merriment all about.

Only the bride frowned one frown, when she thought of her old father. But right at that moment a nightingale burst out into a sweet song and chased the frown away. So the bride laughed and danced and the groom leaped over the bonfire for joy.

And if the mirth at the wedding is any indication for happiness in married life, it is sure to say that neither the bride nor the groom would ever want for anything from that day on.

[bookloover35]

Legolas Greenleaf X Fem reader- Skinchanger.

Legolas Pov:

War, with a very unhappy ending.

That's the only thing that will happen if we don't get more help.

But who?

Gandalf: I know one person who can help us win this war once and for all.

King Theoden: Who.

Gandalf began to tell us that seven years ago he met a young girl and a skinchanger and that they are still best friends to this day and apparently she saved his life and a very famous dwarf king Thorin Okenshield and his company.

He also told us that she managed to wrestle away 10 goblins who tried to chain her.

Legolas: I remember her.

King Theoden: But I thought all skinchangers were dead.

Gandalf: Not all there are some left out there but very few and she is one of them.

Aragon: Is she strong?

Gandalf: In her wolf form she is stronger than an entire army and in her normal human form she is stronger than a thousand men.

Also more he talked about her also more I remembered her, I never got the chance to talk to her but I definitely remember her strength.

I remember when she fought the white orc by herself.

Gandalf: And believe me when I say this she is also very good at hand on hand comebat, it also includes swords, archery and throwing knives.

Gimli: Gandalf, can you get her here?

Gandalf: of course i can.

TS.

Yns pov:

Run faster I have to save Gandalf that was all I could think of while in my wolf form, how lucky I am so much faster like this.

I'm not going to lose my oldest friend and someone who is a very dear family member.

I have known Gandalf ever since I was little he knew both my parents my mother was a very beautiful wood elf and my father was a Skinchanger.

Legolas Pov:

Yn: Gandalf in your message you said it was easy to find here luck that when I'm a Wolf my sense of smell becomes a thousand times stronger than normal.

We all turned towards the young woman's voice and as soon as I saw her all the memories came back her long red hair and her eyes which were two different colors.

(If the hair doesn't match you, you can think that she has the same hair color and length as you).

Her left eye was Silver and her right eye was purple wow she is beautiful.

The wizard and the wolf girl hugged each other and then Gandalf said.

Gandalf: Yn, thank you for being able to come and help us, I had actually planned to come and see you but this happened instead.

Yn: You are family, of course I would come and help.

They both then turned around and we all got a good look at her and she was dressed like she was ready to go into battle, she had black and blue armor.

Gandalf: King Theoden, let me introduce my dearest friend Yn Stormheart.

And Yn this is King Theoden, and the others are Aragon, Gimli and Legolas.

She waved slightly at us and said hello.

Then the questions started to be asked and then I mean there were a lot of questions and then we asked if she could show what she looks like as a Wolf.

She smiled at us and asked us to back off and before you could even blink she had transformed from being a young woman to a wolf the size of a full grown horse.

I have to admit that I am very impressed but one thing is for sure that I did not want to make her angry in this form, she looked at me and I could hear her voice in my head.

Yn: Are you impressed?

Legolas: Very, and I have a very good feeling that we will win this with your help.

The end.

[0nlyn3l]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐱 𝐏𝐨𝐜!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞

𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝟒𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐚𝐲, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟒

𝐋𝐨𝐬 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬 📍

Y/n shifted uncomfortably; tugging at the black turtle neck she wore as she listened to her professor, uninspired by the repetitive History lecture he gave.

She leaned over to Charlie who was surprisingly writing notes and taking the titanic incident into full detail.

“Charlie, can we leave, you can retake this class next year” She asked him; her amber eyes staring into his matching ones.

“If you weren’t my sister, you’d be dead by now”

And with that, they got up from their seats and left the room.

After that harsh rejection from the doctor that was now at the back of her mind, y/n had accidentally turned her older brother; blinded by her lust for blood and unaware of the consequences.

Once Charles had turned and the siblings realised they were threats, they both packed their belongings with a large sum of money and caught a carriage to Scotland without informing anyone; leaving only one single letter with the words “We love you, we’ll be fine”.

In Scotland, they did feed off of human blood before encountering a group of vampires who taught them how to live among humans and survive off of animal blood as an alternative.

And since then, it had just been the two of them, moving around every 5-10 years.

They had now been in LA for 2 years and had both picked a history course in the University of California; both regretting their decision and trying to avoid lessons.

~

It was now the next morning and the two siblings were sat on the table in their shared apartment; Charles pretending to read his newspaper while y/n painted her nails.

“You know, I was thinking we quit uni and move again” y/n started; painting her last coat of red on her pinky.

Charles looked up at her nonchalantly.

“I’m bored of it. I wanna work” she explained.

Y/n found it difficult to concentrate at school.

Growing up as a human, she never got the opportunity to learn normal things like maths and English; only being taught how to be a lady and how to speak different languages.

Piano too.

This made her dispute anything school related; her brother just told her she hadn’t found her ‘thing’ yet.

~

“Earth to Carlisle” Edward shouted at his adoptive father; snapping his fingers in his face.

“You’ve been so out of it lately, what’s up” Rosalie asked him as she lifted her head if Emmett’s shoulder; blonde locks gracefully falling down.

Carlisle stood up from his seat, smile in his face as he brushed off his worries.

“I’m fine guys. Just work”

However, Carlisle was not fine.

On his way back from work yesterday at the hospital, he decided to stop by the university and pick Jasper and Alice as a tempest since he ended early.

However, unexpectedly, he saw a head full of thick, long curls next to a taller head of shorter ones.

He didn’t believe it was them at first but was taken aback as the faces turned and he saw the familiar sibling duo from centuries ago.

Y/n.

His y/n was there.

She looked so different.

She still had long hair but kept it down and big. Much more volume than back then.

She wore a white skirt with a lack turtleneck and unlike before, her eyes were now a vibrant amber shade, matching with his old best friend.

He notices Charles tell her a joke making her throw her head back in laughter as he admired her radiance.

How the the face of this ‘phantom’ haunted him like a little boy.

Carlisle was brought back to reality at the sound of a gasp and everyone running to Alice’s side; calling her attention.

However she did not answer and instead started drawing with the pen and book she previously held in her hands.

A good minute had passed before she was brought back into reality and she regained consciousness.

“Alice honey, what did you see” Carlisle persisted.

She slowly rose her head towards him, stuttering quietly.

“Who’s y-y/n”

~

“So, you mean to tell me that you had a whole ass girlfriend who, bare in mind, was your best friend’s sister. Then turned her, left, then saw her again after centuries” Emmett stated, disbelief written all over his face.

“I never knew you could be that cruel. We can go visit her!” He finished off before getting a slap on the arm from his wife.

“You idiot, it’s more complicated than that”

After Alice’s question and explanation of her unclear vision, Carlisle had told his family of everything that had happened with y/n and how he left her in denial of his feelings.

Everyone was in shock that Carlisle had a romantic fling as it never worked out with Esme.

When Carlisle had turned Esme, everyone was sure they were mates. However, the feelings never came. And about 20 years after Esme was turned, she met Philip Jones, an African American vampire who was utterly in love with the woman.

Not long after, they got married and Esme was introduced as Carlisle’s sister.

“Carlisle, you really need to think this through bro” Phil told his friend as he smoothed his moustache down in thought.

Carlisle paused.

There was only one resolution. He was gonna leave again.

“I need you all to go pack. Now!”

And in the blink of an eye Carlisle was in his room; his family looking at eachother curiously.

~

“I’ve got it. Atlanta!” Charles stated jumping up high from the library seat in front of the computer.

“Shhhhhhh!”

The old, miserable librarian raised her wrinkly finger to her lips as she death stared the boy.

“Perfect Charlie. How about Thursday ?”

~

Y/n hated airports.

They were too busy and unorganised. She found it irritating.

Her and Charles had just gone through security as they made their way to the duty free shop; passing time for their flight in two hours.

“You’re an actual nit-wit. Making us leave early” Charlie told her with a frown.

“Pussy” she muttered as she picked up the latest vogue edition, accidentally grabbing someone’s hand instead as they reached for the same one.

Y/n turned to her left as she made eye contact with a beautiful blonde; slightly shorter than her.

“Oh my goodness, completely my fault” y/n told her as she lifted her head to hold eye contact.

“Don’t worry, I’m such a klutz” The blonde replied as they both realised that they were both vampires at the unusual eye colour.

“Anyways, I better go back to my family. You have a nice day” Rosalie stated, hurrying back to Emmett to tell him the news.

Y/n made her way to her brother after getting her magazine as they both made their way to the till.

“Rosalie, give me your magazine, I’ll pay”

Y/n recognised that voice from somewhere.

It took her a minute, but when she remembered the voice of the doctor with the blonde hair, she froze and snapped her head straight to her right, where he was by the till next to her.

Carlisle was standing right in front of her. A sight she prayed she would never see again.

He had not changed one bit.

He still had the same haircut. However, he was now wearing a grey button up shirt and black scarf; the top 2 buttons undone for effect.

“Carlisle ?” Y/n questioned in disbelief making everyone around them to stare at him.

Carlisle had not even realised she was there.

She was the reason he was leaving.

“Y/n” he muttered in a soft whisper as he held eye contact with her. The one position he tried to avoid in the past couple centuries.

“Don’t you dare. Back off now!” Charles stated as he stepped in front of his sister and payed the woman at the till.

Ever since y/n told Charles what had happened to her word for word, he loathed Carlisle as if they’d were never best friends at any point.

He hated the state his sister was in.

Crying night and day, no longer laughing at the joys of life. Just numbness for about two hundred years before returning back to normal.

“Hey bro, calm down, we mean no harm” Emmet said twisting his baseball cap; a minor smirk adorning his face.

“Sis, I’m out, but don’t forget the crap he put you through”

Charles stormed out of the shop without looking back, leaving his sister in awkward silence.

“I-uh” She started; unable to form words.

“I gotta go” Carlisle said, not counting the stack of cash he gave the cashier as he walked out with his family leaving the girl alone. Again.

History repeats itself I guess.

[graciegoeskrazy]

love it if we made it

Pairings: Matt Murdock x Queer!Teen!Daughter!reader, Karen Page x Queer!Teen!reader

Warnings/Content: so much fucking angst, queer teen - sexuality is not specified although reader is dating someone who uses she/her pronouns - mentions of coming out, catholicism, being catholic and queer, yelling, cursing, crying, mentions of self harm, protective matt murdock, matt is a shitty dad for a bit, mentions of absent mother, queen karen, LET ME KNOW IF I MISSED ANY PLEASE

A/N: Although it’s shorter than what I was envisioning and definitely not perfect, this might be my favorite thing I've written lately. This thing is ANGSTY AS HELL but i've been told that's my specialty. Little storytime - I went to an all catholic school for 10 years of my life but stopped going to church and stuff soon after I left that school. That was about 4 years ago and I have changed immensely since then. Recently, I’ve been trying to reconnect with my faith and what not but whatever church I go to they can’t seem to grasp that the girl they once knew is bisexual and has different ideas then they do. All I want is to have a better connection with my faith but wherever I go it feels impossible. This idea popped into my head recently with everything that happened and I need more dad mm in my life so - two birds one stone lmao. I don’t mean to push catholicism on anybody or make fun of catholics in any way btw. Trust me the last thing I want is anyone telling anyone that what they believe and are doing is wrong. This is just where I'm coming from and how this fic came to be. Love you all lots, no matter who or what you believe in or who or what you love. Xoxo gossip girl

Matt’s phone rang a 2nd time but he quickly silenced it again. “Do you need to take a call Mr. Murdock? We don’t mind.” A man at the table said, a slight edge in his voice. Before Matt could answer, the phone rang again.

…Y/n…

…Y/n…

…Y/n…

“Uh- I’m so sorry. It’s my daughter. Just give me a minute.” The rest of the men gave unamused looks as he excused himself. (Not that Matt could see it or anything)

“Hello?”

“Dad, It’s me. I need you to come to school.”

“Why? What happened?” Annoyance more than worry showed in his tone, making you cringe even more. You sighed before continuing. “I got into a fight at school.” Your father couldn't believe what he was hearing. “What? Y/n Murdock! What the hell were you thinking?” Although any parent might react that way, you didn't expect that reaction from your father.

“They were making fun of me, dad! They made comments about Jane and I. They just wouldn't shut up about the fact I’m gay, even after I politely told them to stop several times, they wouldn't. She and I had enough. It’s not exactly ideal being one of the only queer kids in an all catholic school.”

“That is absolutely unacceptable behavior, y/n.”

“Say’s the guy who runs around punching people in a devil costume!”

“That is completely different.”

“No it isn’t!” Your voice raised quite a bit, having enough of your fathers words. You tried to take a few breaths to try and calm yourself. “Whatever. Look, I need you to come and pick me up. I’m right outside the principal's office, they want to talk to you.”

He let out a large sigh, making you anxious. “Okay, I'll be there in 15.” He hung up not saying an ‘I love you’, or even a ‘goodbye’. Not that you thought he meant it when he did say it, but still, it meant you were in for trouble.

You sat outside the principal's office by the front desk, legs crossed, toes tapping, slumped in a chair, waiting for your fathers arrival. Your eyes caught sight of the man with red glasses strutting towards the door with a cane in hand. You sat up and opened the door to guide him in. “I’m sorry.” You said. He didn’t reply, only kept walking. You followed behind. “Dad, I said I’m sorry.”

“I know you did, y/n. Stop talking.”

Okay jeez. This was gonna be tough.

…

You sat quiet during the entire meeting. You knew what was coming and thought it wasn't worth putting up a fight. It was no secret that you did something wrong, you were very conscious of that, but come on, you weren't the only one that deserves a punishment. Those catholic bitches would not stop taunting you. It wasn’t only today. The bullying had started years ago with usual pointless remarks to anyone and everyone, but when word spread about your sexuallity, that's when all hell broke loose. All eyes were on you. Teachers, students, and faculty had heard about you being gay. Those who were supportive looked at you with awe and inspiration. Most however, looked at you with disgust, including the girls who got you in the spot you were in today. Most quickly forgot about it and moved on with their lives. Some teachers made a point to bring your father in to suggest ‘help’ for you, but he quickly said he would sue the school and report every individual teacher who made another comment about you to the school board and superintendent. Yeah, he was catholic, but your happiness was (usually) first priority for him. Although, it didn't feel like it today.

The verdict was a week of suspension followed by 3 days of detention. Your dad and yourself made your way out of the building and on the way home. The commute to your apartment was only about a 5 minute walk. You stayed quiet most of the time. Until he spoke up as you entered the building and made your way into your apartment. “You're not gonna give your side of the story.”

“I tried to at school and you told me to shut up.”

“You sure it's not because your side of the story isn't worth it? You sure stayed pretty quiet during that meeting.”

“Because I know you would tell me to stop fighting it anyway. Look I know I was in the wrong, but I wasn't the only one. And talk about me being quiet? You barely said anything to defend me! You just sat there and nodded. And don’t tell me you were speechless or something, you're a lawyer for christ’s sake.”

“Yeah, I was speechless. I didn't expect it. It’s embarrassing, y/n.``

“Of course it’s embarrassing. Everything I do is a disappointment to you.” You said, putting up your shoes and jacket by the front door, quickly trying to head upstairs to your bedroom.

“Hey- I never said that.”

“No, but you think so. Me being queer, me being into arts, me being into all the things you hate. You're the successful, up and coming lawyer who all the ladies thirst over, while I'm just an inconvenience. And don’t say otherwise, I don't have to be able to listen to heartbeats to know when you're lying.”

“Come on, that is far from the truth, y/n. It’s not you, it’s your actions.”

You quickly turned back to face him. “Now that is the most bullshit excuse I've ever heard.”

“Language, young lady!”

“Oh fuck language, and fuck you!”

“Enough! I will not let you disrespect me like that! Whatever you're going through, do not pin it on me.”

“Of course, how could I? Because it’s never your fault, it's always mine. I’m the problem. I’m the fuck up, the stupid mistake you made and have to repent for.”

“Don’t say that, y/n. You know that’s not true.”

“Of course it’s true! Don’t say it’s not. That's why it’s embarrassing for you. Because I ruined your meeting with a bunch of classy, a-list, New York assholes because you had to pick up your daughter who is nothing but an inconvenience for you and a constant reminder of the worst mistake you ever made.”

“Y/n, stop-”

“Stop what? Saying the truth? I bet you wish I wasn’t here sometimes. I bet you wish that car wouldn't have hit her. Then maybe I wouldn't be such an inconvenience to you.”

“Yeah, Maybe.”

Your breath hitched. You always knew the truth. You always knew how you ended up here, but never in a million years did you actually think he would admit it. 15 goddamn years on this earth and never once did you actually think your father would take back a single moment. You didn’t cry or become angry, instead the feeling that rushed over you was some sort of loss. At a loss for words or a loss of movement or the loss of knowing what to do. All you wanted to do was give up, fall limp on the floor and lay there for however long you needed to. Long enough for all of this to wash over. Some would call it giving up. To you, it was the only solution you had left. Too long you’ve spent trying to patch up the holes between you and your dad, all for the sake of this shitty family. You’ve had enough. Enough of the fighting, enough of the lonely nights staying up hoping and praying that your father would come home without a bullet in his head, enough of being tired. Tired. That’s what you were feeling. You had felt it for too long and were sick of it.

Your voice cracked as you continued to speak. “I don’t know what to do, Dad. Those people hate me because I simply exist, and apparently you do too, and I don’t know how to make it better other than changing myself completely or ending my life because apparently you and several others would be just fine if I wasn't here.” A single tear made its way out and down your cheek. Your father stood in front of you like a deer in headlights, he had stayed that way since those last words left his mouth, realizing how bad he had messed up. You didn't know what to say anymore. Hopelessness showed its face once again. You rushed upstairs and into your room, not wanting to stand in front of your father any longer.

…

Later that night, your phone rang. It was Karen calling to do your daily check in on you. You answered.

“Hey sweets! How was school today?” You just groaned in response. Karen’s curiosity grew. “I heard your dad had to leave the meeting early to pick you up, you doin’ alright?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m okay.”

“You sure. You sound…different.”

You sighed. There was no harm in telling her. Karen was family and whether she liked it or not, she was stuck with you forever. You trusted her with everything. Might as well tell her…

“I got into a fight today?”

“What? Are you okay?”

That was the kind of reaction you expected from your father, more worry than angry. Of course Karen reacted this way. Maybe she was the parental figure you always needed…

“Yeah. I'm fine. It’s just some stupid kids making fun of me and I had enough.”

Karen could tell something else was off. She paused for a second, then continued. “What else?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on kid, I know when something is bothering you, I’m practically your mother.”

A smile came across your face.

“Ok so, my dad got really upset at me, and I basically told him that he probably regrets having me, and how I know I'm such a disappointment to him, and he agreed and it really blew up.”

“That mother fucker.”

That made you laugh. It was good to know she would be on your side through all this.

“Do you want to come to my house for the night? I’ll pick you up and we can have a girls night and stuff and you can tell me more.”

“No, I'll be fine here. I’d rather just cry in peace in the darkness of my room, to be honest.”

She sighed, “Jeez girl. You better call me if you need a single thing.”

“I will. Don’t worry.”

…

You heard your father come up the stairs and quickly shut off your phone and rolled over on your side facing towards the wall, away from your father.

“I know you're awake, n/n.”

Your eyes shot open. How do I keep forgetting he has super hearing?

“Worth a shot.” You kept your direction towards the wall.

Matt took a beat before starting. “Karen called me. She said if I ever hurt you again she would go daredevil on my ass.” He took a seat next to your bed, not wanting to get too close just yet, but still wanting to let you know he was there. “I’m sorry. Really, really, truly sorry.”

“It’s alright, dad-”

“No. No, it’s not. I messed up…really badly.” He moved some of your hair behind your ear in an attempt to comfort you. “I never meant to hurt you. I never want you to question my love for you ever again. I love you so so so much, baby girl. More than anything or anyone.”

A tear escaped down your right eye. You flipped over and faced him. “I love you. No matter who you are or who or what you love, and I didn't do a good job of showing you that, and I'm sorry.” He sucked in a large breath before he continued. “You are the farthest thing from a mistake. Yes, you were unexpected, but I would never, ever take back a single moment of being your father. You are the only girl I ever needed, and I love you so very much.”

You opened your arms and scooted back to make room for your dad to snuggle next to you on your bed. He brought you close to him, letting you lay your head on his chest. You mumbled “I love you too.” as he brushed through your hair with his fingers, in an attempt at some sort of calming peace offering.

This would be fine. This would be okay. You both would be okay.

[lyriquette]

Old AU description from the Frosen Steel server 1/23/2021

This is where Salem also does the Ozma reincarnating thing. And they both end up in the same place, Penny's brain. I've fleshed out the beginning part in the Good RWBY aus, I believe, but I left the original piece here too for my own reference if I want to expand this. I don't think any one on Tumblr saw part 2 though.

I think this was around the Penny hack, so some of us in the server may have been a little salty about that. 8\

---

lilac — 01/23/2021 8:24 PM

An AU where Salem is forced to do the reincarnation thing as punishment instead of immortality, and Ozma gets punished all the same. They still wage their secret wars on each other using their reincarnations all the same.

After thousands of years, they finally meet each other on the greatest battlefield yet: Penny's brain.

lilac — 01/23/2021 8:46 PM

They both somehow reincarnate into Penny, and the first thing they notice when they awaken is that Penny's mind is unlike anything they've ever encountered before. Whereas most people just have a dark blank area to represent their unconscious mind where they typically hang at, Penny's mind is organized like a giant mansion filled with memories that occasionally transverses into the strange and magical depending on what fiction Penny has read for the day.

As soon as Salem realizes who she's stuck with, she immediately tries to murder Ozma on sight. Ozma meanwhile isn't taking Salem's shit after a couple of millenia. After failing to kill a beaten Ozma despite her best efforts , Salem just decides to wipe the mind she's in and take her chances with the next reincarnation.

Her magic wipes the entire mindscape into barren land, and the mansion filled with precious things disintegrates in her rage.

Nothing was left beyond the death she brought to this world. However, what awaited her was not the disorienting feeling of entering a new body but..

With a strange staticky effect, the world quickly reverts back to how it was before except a dark shadow now looms over the lands.

Salem looks up for just a moment and learns that she's not the one in control.

A giant hand as tall as her yanks her by the scruff of her robes and pulls her into the sky above the clouds. And soon she finds herself eye level with a giant red-eyed redhead staring at her with annoyance.

Salem tried to use her magic but all she could do was cast sparks, her powers suppressed by the clearly godlike being in this domain.

The girl just stared at Salem for a long time before making her decree.

"Stop that." With that said, the being vanishes, and Salem falls a couple of kilometers of height into the ground with a painful crunch. Hearing her once loved, now most hated foe laugh at her plight, she knew this lifetime was going to suck all kinds of awful.

-----

lilac — 01/23/2021 10:07 PM

The next day, Penny wakes up somewhat confused inside a half-derelict shack in Mantle. Surrounded by scraps and mechanical parts, she slowly drove herself over towards her both creator and father. Unlike canon, Pietro Polendina never gets a chance to show his genius to the people of Atlas. With Salem out of the picture, the Grimm were more of a nuisance than world-ending threat. Even a civilian militia can take them down with dust rounds, and thus more villages existed in Remnant.

Her father accidentally gave life to a mechanical android he scavenged several years ago with his Semblance and then chose to take responsibility for the life he created. Most of her torso and head had been retrofitted for more human-like features over the years, though her arms still needed work and her legs needed to be replaced for actual legs instead of the treads she kept hidden inside long skirts – and made others think she was gliding rather than walking. She guiltily accepted her dad’s gifts, knowing they didn’t come cheap – the technology such as the synthetic skin likely came directly from Atlas. Her dad was just a poor engineer who repaired Mantle’s heating devices and machines, helping customers who didn’t have much themselves. Her dad wouldn’t let her refuse – called her “the only thing he’s done right in his life” – so she chose to try and help him out to decrease his burdens.

Unlike her dad, she didn’t have the specs to doing anything dexterous; she was operating on extremely old hardware – the only saving grace was that the part that seemed to hold her soul, a strange amalgam of broken vacuum tubes and microchips, didn’t actually need to function for her to command her body – perhaps the only sign that she was not a robot and was actually a real girl. So instead, she helped more on the software end of things; unlike others who had to sift through lines and lines of code to find something wrong, she could literally see where the code broke down and generated errors.

In the tiny world that was her and the code, she was its goddess. Modifications and repairs didn’t take her much more than a thought or two. Sometimes she was sorely tempted to leave a bug in the software, so people would be forced to return to their shop in regular intervals. But it was just a thought; she liked to think she was her father’s daughter, and her father was an honest, trustworthy man.

Lately, she’d been working on design and animation, an unprecedented game that would run on a Scroll and connect to other Scrolls using the CCT. It was a project she’d been working for a couple years now, mostly during her sleep cycles.

She vaguely recalled some sort of catastrophic error occurring in the game world she’d been creating over the years. Those occasionally happened when she was implementing major changes like a physics engine or environmental damage, which she was implementing at the time….but she didn’t expect it would require a complete revert to reverse the damage. She had wanted to send the prototype game to her online friends, but the error had set everything back a week or two. She’ll look into it later.

Ring. Ring.

<IceQueen> and <CrescentRose> have joined the chatroom.

Speaking of….

---

lilac — 01/23/2021 11:17 PM

Penny’s known Weiss for two years now, ever since she popped into their shop with her younger brother in tow. She remembered that day clearly - how the fresh snow layered upon the ground unbroken as everyone stayed inside and celebrated the Vytal New Year.

She left her door open to air out the scorched scent of fried electronics she’d been experimenting on: it didn’t bother her, but her dad didn’t like it.

By the time she came back downstairs, she found the door closed with both Schnee siblings covered in blood.

From what she heard on the news later on, the Schnee’s shuttle had been hit with a rocket, and they crash-landed into Mantle. The whole thing apparently was a kidnapping attempt by the White Fang who were trying to go for Jacques Gele: the man had abandoned his kids in his escape and left them to fend for themselves. While most of the White Fang chased after the Schnee patriarch, some went searching for the Schnee kids through the city of Mantle.

--

After Weiss told her tale and about people chasing them, Weiss glanced at the flecks of red on her hands and suddenly realized something, her face becoming pale with fear.

“Whitley, stay here with the nice girl,” Weiss said hurriedly as she prepared to go outside, “I’m going to get help, alright?”

“But Weiss…” Whitley tried to stand up from the chair he was sat on, but his broken leg prevented him from doing so.

“I’ll be back, alright?” Weiss said with a smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. She turned to Penny. “Please take care of my brother.”

Penny placed a steady hand onto Weiss’s shoulder, sitting her back down onto the chair she sat on.

“What are yo-“

“I won’t let you sacrifice yourself. You’re both going to survive this. We’re all going to,” Penny said resolutely as she rummaged through the junk pile near the door.

“But you’ll be in danger too!” Weiss retorted, “This isn’t a joke! They have guns!”

Her hand clenched around a familiar textured handle.

“So what?”

Penny smugly said, projecting more confidence than she actually felt. The blaseness of her answer stunned Weiss silent.

Knock knock knock!

“We know you’re in there!” a gruff voice called out from outside, “Will you do this the easy way or the hard way?!”

Before Penny could interject, Weiss yelled out, “Alright! Alright! I surrender! Just...just don’t hurt anyone.”

“You’re not in any condition to make requests, Schnee,” the gruff voice retorted. “We’ll give you three seconds to come out or else…heheheh,” said a second voice from outside the door.

“One!”

“Whitley, hide under here. Don’t make a sound,” Weiss ordered.

“Weiss…” Whitley got out before Weiss placed a hand over his mouth.

“Two!”

“…I’m sorry to have brought you into this,” Weiss said with a downcast look as she stood up and made her way towards the door, “...I’m Weiss. I never did get your name.”

“Three!”

“I’m Penny Polendina,” she replied.

Before Weiss could reach the door, Penny lifted a hand to block her. The long sleeves of her shirt fell onto her elbow, revealing the dark shiny gloss of metal. Weiss’s eyes went wide at the sight as Penny grasped onto the hilt of her weapon with both hands.

“And I’m not an ordinary girl.”

--

Crack!

The blow that broke the door open was not the pair of kicks from the henchmen outside but from the wide swing of the baseball bat she wielded. The full force of her swing carried both door and henchmen through the streets and crashing straight into a stone wall - a flicker of Aura signaled that she put her assailants out of commission.

Meanwhile, a pair of awe-filled gazes from the Schnee siblings before her made Penny feel extremely self-conscious.

“Ummm…maybe we should call the police now,” Penny awkwardly said.

------

[thatonewatching]

Church Boy-RegretsTW

TW

Then I saw them.

The metallic, shiny razors. I know I shouldn't, but I wanted to see it. I picked up the razor from the corner of the sink and put it to my wrist. Before I moved it any closer, I locked the door and then immediately put my hand back over the sink. 

I glided the razor over my skin, watching as it broke, and the crimson-colored regret started flowing out. "Sinners deserve this." I tell myself, hoping that eventually I'll believe it, so this won't feel bad anymore. 

My blood seeped down my hand and coated the porcelain sink. I smiled as the tears streamed down my face and into the sink as well.

They always told me blood was thicker than water. 

Now, I can't tell as they mix together.

After I finished and I couldn't see the lines from previous episodes because they had been replaced with new ones, I left. Rolling down my sleeves, I walked back into the room with Sal and Larry. "I'm going to see Cassie." I informed. "Who?" Larry asked. "Gibson." I muttered. "You okay, Trav?" Sal asked. "Don't call me that." 

"Sorry."

"Shut the fuck up."

*Time Skip*

I walked to Ms. Gibson's room and knocked quietly. After a second, the door creaked open and there she was. "Travis? What happened, kid? Your daddy been beatin' you again?" she asked, her southern accent heavy and thick. 

(Ms. Gibson's name is gonna be Cassie)

"Sometimes. That's not what this is about, though."

"What happened?"

"I did it again."

"Oh fuck."

"..."

"Come in."

"Okay..."

I walked in and she lit up a cigarette. "Let me see," she demanded. "What?" I ask. "The cuts, let me see." she repeated. I lifted my sleeves and moved my arm to where she could see. She sighed deeply and started. "Why?" she asked, running her fingers over the marks. "I... don't know..." I lied. "Another episode?" she asked. I nodded, silently holding back tears. "Your father...is a sick man..." she commented, grimacing and tightening the grip on my forearm. "I know..." I agreed, letting the tears fall.

She let go of my wrists and pulled me into a hug. She smelled of cigarettes, cheap perfume, and booze. I wasn't used to it. When I was younger, she and my mother were very close. She knew of my father's discipline but never approved. 

I don't get why. Of course, his discipline against mother often made her bleed, but she would always say she would get better. Every time, that's what she said. And, every time, father would hit her until she was on the floor and bloody. 

Often, she would take me with her to Ms. Gibson's apartment. She would stay there until morning and then would drive me to school. One day, she drove me to school and when I got home, she wasn't there. My father said she left and wasn't coming back. 

I was hurt. 

Now, I hated her. She left me and didn't take me with her. She fucking left. No note. No goodbye. That morning, she had sat with me and before she let me out of the car at school, she took her cross and put it around my neck.

*10 years ago*

"Come on, sweetheart." my mother called, grabbing a napkin and walking to the other side of the kitchen, over to me. "Almost done!" I replied, hurriedly trying to finish chewing my breakfast. My mother bent down and wiped the corners of my mouth, smiling gently. 

"Let's go, we don't want to be late, do we?" she asked. I shook my head, still chewing. I quickly finished my food and walked my plate over to the dishwasher, loading it in. My mother scooped me up into her arms and peppered me with kisses all over my face. I giggled as it tickled me. 

"Come on, sweetheart." she said, carrying me to the living room. My mother sat me down and slung my backpack over her shoulder. I looked up at her, her brown hair was straight and silky. Her eyes were green and vibrant, contrasting with her tanned skin. 

"Thanks, Cassie." my mother said, hugging her friend. "Thank you, Ms. Gibson!" I chimed in, smiling. "Of course, Dana." Ms. Gibson responded, pulling away and ruffling my hair. "We better get going, I'll miss you." my mother said, her smile shrinking just the slightest. 

"I'll miss you, too. Is it necessary? I..."

"Yes, Cassie. It is. I can't do it anymore."

"I know."

"..."

"..."

My mother grabbed hold of my hand, gently guiding me to the door. "This isn't goodbye, Cass. It's see you later." my mother said, closing the door behind her as we exited the apartment. "Mommy, what's the difference?" I asked, yanking her arm to grab her attention. "You'll understand when you're older." she answered, monotonous and deadpan. 

I was curious but decided not to ask again. She already gave me an answer. As we loaded into the car, she put my backpack on the passenger floorboard as she buckled me in. 

*Time skip*

The ride was silent and awkward. We created an unspoken tension between us. I remember seeing a few tears fall and her quickly wipe them away. When we arrived, I unbuckled and she handed me my bag. I opened the door and tried to get out but she grabbed my arm. "Travis," she said. 

It caught me off guard. She never called me by name. I didn't like it. I felt like I was trouble. "Yea?" I ask, closing my door. "I want to give this to you." she said, sliding off her cross and holding out her other hand. I did the same and she gently placed it on my hand, curling my fingers around it as the chain fell loosely from my grasp.

"You're giving me this? I thought..." I said, confused and nervous. "Yes, Travis, I am." she said, letting go. "Now, have a good day at school." she said, kissing my forehead and smiling softly so her lips quivered. "Remember baby, it's not goodbye," she stopped.

"it's see you later."

(originally posted March 18th 2023 on Wattpad)

"Church Boy." - Regrets - Wattpad

[silverhallow]

19-"Do you believe that?"

Tears fell down Sophie’s face, sitting in the middle of a field, staring out over a lake, her heart felt like it was broken into a million pieces.

Heartbreak, deception, it had been coming and she’d been foolish enough to think he was different, that he actually loved her.

If she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes she would not have believed it. She’d not believed Rosamund when she said she was going to steal him from her, that she was nothing, that she’d come from nothing, her parents weren’t married, she was a bastard. Rosamund spent the last 5 years telling her she was only part of the school because her father felt sorry for her.

First she’d lost her father 6 months ago and now she’d lost her boyfriend. The one person who had shown Sophie what she thought love was. The one person she had been so sure loved her…

But then she’d seen him pressed up against Rosamund’s locker, Rosamund’s lips attached to his…

She’d not even stopped when she heard his cries of her name, she’d ran out, she’d turned on her worn converse and ran as quickly as her little legs would carry her.

She was small, she was quick, she found running easy and so she’d just kept going. Out of the sixth form grounds, tears falling down her face, as her heart shattered, her world falling apart.

Everyone left her in the end. It was what Araminta had always told her and now it was coming true.

Her father had died and they were still trying to locate his Will so until it was found she was stuck with her step-mother.

Eventually her legs started to hurt, her lungs were burning and the need to sob hit her like a truck and she crumbled to the floor.

The soft grass cushioned her fall and she curled into a ball and pressed her head into her knees as she sobbed.

“Sophie…” came an out of breath sigh, about 10 minutes later.

Sophie didn’t even need to look up to know who it was, “go away Ben. I don’t want to talk to you” she replied, each word a heartbroken sob.

“No, you need to listen to me, it’s not what it looked like!” he pleaded, his voice getting closer. He’d placed his hands on his hips as he wheezed.

He was not a runner, he was a rower, he’d lost her for a bit but knowing the direction she was running, he knew where she was going.

This was their spot. He’d seen her crumble, and he felt horrible. He’d not been anticipating Rosamund pouncing on him.

He’d been walking down to meet her, with the news that his Uncle had found her father’s Will, he’d been almost giddy, he had no idea of the contents but the fact it had been found meant she’d be able to find out if she was stuck with Araminta or if she’d be free of her wicked step-mother once and for all.

But as he walked past Rosamund and her friends, she’d grabbed his arm, and before Benedict had a chance to do anything, before he’d even realised that Sophie was there, Rosamund had pulled her into him, he’d lost his balance and his hands fell either side of her locker as she’d wrapped herself so tightly around him he’d not been able to escape until he’d heard the scream, followed by the sob and he knew what was going on.

He’d shoved Rosamund hard, Kate had seen the entire thing happening and promised to take care of the bitch as he ran after his girlfriend.

It’d nearly broken him, he knew how much that would have hurt Sophie seeing that. Knowing her for as long as they had, being best friends before they’d taken the leap and given in to their feelings for one another, knowing her past…

He knew her better than any other soul alive and he knew… he knew how much this would have hurt her and it was why he’d gone running after her. Determined that he’d not let her run away, not let her shut him out. That he would explain.

Once he was there, he panted her name and the way she told him to go away nearly broke him, nearly caused him to break down in tears himself.

“It’s not what it looked like?!” she’d screeched at him, “it looked like you were kissing my step-sister! In front of the entire school, Ben!!!”

“I wasn’t kissing her! She grabbed me! She grabbed me as I was coming to meet you! I’d nipped into Art this morning, Kate and I went to hand in our project as we didn’t want to carry it around the school all morning! Kate will tell you! Rosamund grabbed me, i lost my balance and before I knew what was happening her lips were on mine and she’d wrapped me up so tight I was trying to wriggle free but it wasn’t happening… I didn’t want to kiss her, she’s literally the last person in the entire school I want to kiss” Benedict said passionately

Sophie shook her head “Rosa told me she was going to take you from me… that you’d go… that you were just using me to get to her…”

“Do you believe that?”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore! I never thought you’d cheat on me!” Sophie sobbed

“Sophie… I… I didn’t… she ambushed me. You are the one that I love, you are the one I want to be with, the only one that I want to be with… i’d rather cut my cock off than be with her. She’s jealous of you. She’s always been jealous of you. You’re beautiful, you’re kind and clever and she’s got to sleep with people to get her homework done, she tried to sleep with Professor Livingstone to get her english grades changed…”

“She… she…”

“Henry told me when he’d overheard it all, but Sophie… Please believe me, you are the only girl for me. You are the one who has my heart, you’ve only ever had my heart, from aged 13 you’ve been the one I wanted. You’re the one I want to build a life with. You’re the one I can’t wait to go to Uni with, getting our own place, growing older together, getting married, getting a dog, having babies. I want it all Soph and you’re the only one I want it with… not her.” he said

“But… i saw… she…”

“I know what you saw and I can’t take that away, I wish I could but I did not kiss her, I wedged my lips shut. Kate was going to kick her arse whilst I was coming after you… Rosamund has exploited your weakness, the things that upset you, your worst fears, her and her vile mother have done nothing but tried to make your life miserable and even more so since your father died… but I love you Sophie. They can’t change that. They’re never going to be able to change that. Even if you wish to never see me again, if you want me to go away and leave you alone, it won’t stop me loving you.” he said passionately.

“You… you really didn’t?”

“No. I swear down on my star wars collection that it was unwanted attention, I was coming to meet you, I was coming to see you so we could go to English together, as usual. If I hadn’t gone to Art with Kate none of this would have happened, it was just… bad timing and she’s obviously been waiting for a moment like this… but i promise… it was unwanted attention, the moment she heard you scream she let up and I was off her, and running after you… Kate promised to sort it out, she will back me up. I promise” he explained, begging her to understand and hoping beyond hope that she’d believe him.

Sophie sniffed and lifted her head and looked at him for the first time, her green eyes red and puffy. She looked at him, taking in his face, wanting to see if he was telling the truth, wanting to see the truth in his eyes, she knew his face and knew when he was lying, when he was telling the truth and as she looked into his blue eyes, she saw the truth, the hurt she could see, the pain that he was going through because of the pain she was going through, and she knew he was telling the truth “i… I believe you” she said softly.

Benedict let out a sigh and moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly, “thank you. It won’t ever happen again. I promise, i’m going nowhere near that girl, English is the only class we share with her so you will be by my side, she’s a leech, and I promise I'm not going within 100 feet of her.”

Sophie sighed into him “that’s a bit excessive but if Kate’s been left to sort it… i’m sure Rosa won’t go anywhere near her but going home tonight is going to suck…”

“Come to mine, Mum will love to see you as will the girls, and Uncle George rang last night, he’s located your dad’s Will, you can see him tonight about it” Benedict said

“It’s been found?”

“It has, so come back to mine after school, and maybe we can find out that you can be rid of the witch once and for all” Benedict said hopefully.

“That would be nice” she replied as she rested her head on Benedict’s shoulders, letting herself enjoy his warmth and his touch. It had been an emotional morning, it would be an emotional evening but right now, she just wanted to feel safe in the arms of the man she loved.

[anthonymcdaid-divergentpractice]

EVALUATION

BA Hons Contemporary Arts Year 4

Anthony McDaid

Wool, thread, mod roc, leaves, polymer clay, resin

https://www.tumblr.com/anthonymcdaid-divergentpractice?source=share

You Keep Me Hanging On

This was created in response to personal situations involving myself. I lost my Mum over 10 years ago and always had vivid dreams of her that felt so real, panic attacks and depression were amplifier in the run up to the anniversary of both her birthday and death but in 2024, I forgot her Birthday which really upset me.

This is also personal due to my own circumstances, I've a long history of depression and anxiety and wanted to end my life so many times but never could due to the guilt I felt leaving behind initially my Mum but then as I became a Father, my Son.

I always look for how humans can be connected and string is a great way to represent that connection, it can be made strong but it is also so fragile and can snap and be lost so easily, much like our memories can fade over time. 

I opted for minimal art as it allowed both the negative space surrounding it to represent the emptiness felt after someone is gone but also it gives it a quiet, more solemn feel to the work. 

As well as my own personal emotions, I referred to how these subjects have been approached via music and TV/movies. 

I've never worked with string/wool before in this manner so I wasn't sure how it would look but my initial ideas were exactly what I wanted and knew I had a solid foundation to build on.

I thought of how both the scenarios I talked about felt to me, my Mum who suffered cancer and leukemia for 20 years was finally being freed from that pain and with her strong religious beliefs, she soared to the heaven's and that's where I thought of a kite soaring high but still visible of we look up. 

With the the other idea, I always felt weighed down, both due to my emotions and the pressure of keeping myself and leaving loved ones to deal with my death and obviously that made me think of how diamonds are made through pressure as well.

Mixing the use of thread and wool helped add that representation of strength and fragility.

I selected colours that represented myself, my Mum and my Son to make it personal to me but added in the coloured brooches to allow the viewers to make it personal to them. 

I explored the idea of colour further in varying ways, with coloured hand sculptures, screen prints and plastic strips and I loved the different outcomes of each and although they weren't used for the final exhibition piece, they gave me insight in to how I can display colour in so many ways, especially when connected to emotions. 

One thing I was disappointed in not seeing the results of was the head sculpture that would be filled with coloured wax and melted on to paper/screen and possibly turned in to screen prints. Unfortunately my budget was severely restricted due to personal circumstances but it is something I definitely want to attempt in the future as I truly believe these would provide incredible works.

As for the final piece itself, I will never be happy with it as it is a piece dedicated to my Mum and Son's impact on my life and feel no matter what I done, it would not have been good enough. 

Restrictions due to college health and safety rules meant the idea of lanterns could never be used to but even more frustrating was the fact I couldn't add more wool to the walls/ceiling, which would have provided a juxtaposition of the piece, with the celebration of life being represented by so many bright colours. 

With what I did finish with though I am as happy as I could be. I feel the heart was a great addition to the sculpture and the threads of life being limited to represent life being slowly depleted whilst the heart was being kept in with what was left. 

The bundle of leaves at the bottom was a great choice for representing those memories that had been scattered and looking like they had gone further but there's glimpses of them being there, through the colour added to the dried leaves and also the brooches that could be found and worn. 

I've shown a more focused and direct approach to my development this time around as well, whereas before I would be trying too many ideas that showed no consistency so I'm happy I've managed to do that as it can be a struggle for me at times with how my brain works. 

I've managed to overcome my fears when it comes to minimalist work and not pushed to keep adding and adding to my work which I'm really happy with and developed more confidence around.

With restrictions due to the college rules, I never could see my ideal plan come to fruition which was disappointing and hopefully if I ever get my own exhibition in the future, I'll have a bit more freedom to actually show what I want.

This was my first attempt at work of this kind and loved the possibilities it could provide, not just for art pieces but how it could be used to enhance a room and provide additional emotion to the work on display.

[kudosmyhero]

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (vol. 1) #11: True Stories

Read Date: May 28, 2023 Cover Date: June 1987 ● Writer: Kevin Eastman ◦ Peter Laird ● Pencils: Kevin Eastman ◦ Peter Laird ● Inks: Kevin Eastman ◦ Peter Laird ● Letters: Steve Lavigne ●

**HERE BE SPOILERS: Skip ahead to the fan art/podcast to avoid spoilers

Reactions As I Read: ● I haven’t seen the first TMNT movie in ages, but reading this issue brings little memories back—such as April’s journaling ● omg, I’d forgotten the insult-war, too!

● 👏👏👏👏

Synopsis: The issue opens with April having nightmares about being attacked by ninja monsters who look similar to the Turtles and the Shredder. April wakes up screaming and then heads off to write in her diary. The diary becomes the framework for this issue.

Jan. 15, 1987 Yes, it's almost three A.M. again… My Night Mare alarm went off Big time tonight. It's been over two weeks now, with no relief… I was hoping to shake them before this… I think—The last time I closed my eyes and actually slept (and I believe exhaustion had a hand in that) was on the trip here… Even then my awakening was a shock… April recalls Casey startling her awake during the trip from New York City, wanting her to see downtown Northampton, Massachusetts. She is underwhelmed by the sight.

Considering my state of mind, my reaction was a few notches below "I couldn't care less." I guess I should've looked around a little; I hear that Northampton's nice… at least it might have afforded some kind of comfort for my next sight… From the road, Casey's late grandmother's house looked like a classic old New England farm house—big old barn, family-sized house, sheds, trees and rolling hills; you know, postcard material. That was from the road… Casey is full of nostalgia seeing the Jones Farm, but April is introduced to a dilapidated old building with broken windows and a front door falling off its hinges. April wants to start a warm fire and to get the still-injured Leo into the house. But she is fatigued, and falls asleep on a chair inside.

Jan. 25, 1987 Winter remains with us… snowed two days straight… Clear today. Leonardo's still pretty out of it. The battle tore him up terribly in both body and mind. Physically he has healed incredibly well, but mentally… I'm afraid has a lot of catching up. He's always put himself in front of the rest of the guys; taking charge, bearing the extra weight playing the Big Brother… When someone like that feels they've failed they fall hard! He's recently developed an intense obsession with the surrounding forests and spends all of his time there… I hope he finds what he's looking for and comes out of this depression soon… We all need him back. Leonardo, dressed in an improvised winter hunter's garb and armed with a yumi, stalks a stag through the forest without much success. The stag ambushes him, knocking him down. Leo pulls out of a knife and charges the stag head-on, but the powerful creature instead grabs the turtle with his antlers and throws him over and behind. Leo sits feeling defeated as the stag runs off.

I guess I could never know for sure how he feels inside. But I do know what losing your home—and everything that you own—feels like… Those things that you felt gave you a sense of being and strength in this world… Belongings that touched memory chords of loved ones. Father… I know he's hurting. Feb. 10, 1987 Everything is so strange… I feel like I've never looked at myself or the guys before; we're all so different now I try to identify the people I used to know with those that surround me now… and it's hard. Don isn't doing too badly, although he does work obsessively at the huge amount of repairs that need to be done here. The place has been vacant since Casey's Grandmother Left four years ago, it was pretty run down then. Besides a million little things, Don's rebuilt the windmill to pump water, devised a water wheel that creates enough current for lights and the fridge, and also installed a wood stove for better heating, all around. His most recent undertaking will—if it works—satisfy a craving we've all had lately… …Hot running water! Feb. 15, 1987 Success! Showertime! Everybody's going nuts! Feb. 17, 1987 Feeling strangely depressed lately… I guess I expected Don to rest a bit after the last hard-won victory… No such luck. I heard him rummaging around in the attic early this morning… who knows what he's working on now. Feb. 17, 1987 Don's Writing Too! He must have found an old typewriter in the attic yesterday. I awoke to the tapping of busy keys around seven A.M. and he's been at it ever since! I wonder what he's writing about… is it a journal, like mine? I'd love to know… Donatello is shown in the attic room with the typewriter…and a trash can filled to overflowing with crumpled up pieces of paper.

Feb. 26, 1987 Michaelangelo worries me the most Mike, who could find a joke in just about any situation, doesn't laugh much anymore. Except for some half hearted goofing around with Casey and Raph, he's been almost painfully solitary lately it's so unlike him. But then all of us seem to have a need to be alone these days. Has what's happened made us unable to be close? I don't know… Mike's chosen a back section of the barn for his sanction… cleared a lot of junk out and created a little work-out space. The other day I happened in on one of his sessions. He was already on edge. Michelangelo is shown repeatedly kicking a punching bag until it breaks completely off its chain. He bashes and destroys a workbench with his arms. Unsatisfied, his takes his rage to the barn wall, ripping a hole out of the wood. He rests his arms on the new hole and groans.

We all feel so much pain and confusion— Each of us keeping his personal torment bottled up inside… Each seeking relief in his own way. The cure hangs plainly, clearly in front of our faces, but who will be the first to reach out? We Need Each Other! March 2, 1987 Raphael scares me. The rest of the guys I can feel for, worry for… but not Raph. Raph runs Hot and Cold… very unbalanced, unpredictable. I keep my distance. Lately I've noticed he doesn't sleep much. He's always always the first up and the last to bed. I think I've heard him Leaving the house late at night, too. I wonder what he's doing… standing guard? Late at night out in the cold on top of the barn, standing guard is exactly what Raphael is doing. He judges the front of the farm clear, then flips several times across the barn rooftop to the back, and judges the back of the farm also clear.

March 10, 1987 I've known some odd characters in my time, living in Brooklyn most of my life, But the likes of Casey Bernid Jones is beyond compare. I believe that in Casey's mind there's a petulant, mischievious ten year old waging constant war with a somewhat mature, Bright young man… unfortunately the ten year old wins far too often. Casey spends all of his time with Raphael, fighting, or "doin' projects, doin' projects!" as they say— usually more damage. What next? In the barn, Casey is trying to repair the engine of an old pickup truck while Raphael sits behind the steering wheel. As they work, they carry on a debate.

Casey: Not even close—The Professor and Maryann, without a doubt, married! Raphael: No frick'n way! Gilligan was her main man, everyone knows that! Casey: Bug off! He was a geek. Raphael: You're a geek! Casey: Get a life, no mind! Raphael: Spasmo! Casey: Puke brain. Raphael: Clayhead. Casey: Duck fart. O.K. Turn it over. Raphael: Yawn… Yup. Gack face. Casey: This piece 'a junk will never start!

Raphael: Sounds good! Casey: O.K., O.K., ease off, this thing's ancient! Check the hand brake so it won't roll… …Ease off already! Raphael: Don't worry! {yawn} Casey: Ut-oh… Raphael: Oop! Casey & Raphael: It's in gear!!

The truck speeds toward the barn doors, bashing them open.

Casey: Ease down, dude! Foot off gas pedal!! Raphael: The throttle's stuck!!—Wide open! Casey: Use the brake—the brake!!

Raph struggles in vain to steer the vehicle into control.

Raphael: No control!—

The truck scrapes the side of the farmhouse's front porch.

Raphael: —it's the snow—no traction!

The truck rams into and destroys the windmill just before it crashes head-on into a hillside. Raph gets out safely, but the truck is a wreck.

Casey: I hated that Jeep anyway. Raphael: Have they seen the windmill yet? Casey: Couldn't miss it. Raphael: Mad? Casey: Saw 'em carring gun and a noose! Yuk, yuk! Raphael: Eat worms and die!

One day later in the month, April is out walking on the ice of a frozen lake. But the ice cracks under her weight, plunging her into the freezing water. Leo is hunting nearby and hears her shouts. At the edge of the lake, he takes off his hunting garb which unrolls into a long strip of cloth. He stakes one end of the cloth into the lakeside with his katana, and crawls out onto the ice holding the other end of the cloth, successfully pulls April to safety, and carries her back to the farmhouse.

Back inside, April is resting and recovering from hypothermia. Splinter, the turtles and Casey are gathered around her.

Splinter: She'll be fine. But we must let her rest. As for you, my sons, enough time has passed… Your spirits have drifted far too long. Come, we have much to do.

Splinter takes his four sons out into the wilderness for training.

Splinter: You must work harder! This winter has seen the diffusion of your energies… With the spring, you must rebuild your group spirit… For now, set aside individual pursuits… Your healing requires collective focus!

May 1, 1987 I can't believe it's been over a month since I fell through the ice… and even longer since I've picked up this journal. I almost didn't this time, either. it all seems to mean so little now. I started this book to rebuild all I had lost in the fire. I guess after my mid-winter swim (HA, HA) I realized how little my life long accumulation of possessions had. I thought I was all I had in this world. Not true. I've got me, and I've got memories. I also have friends, real friends that I care for and that care for me. I'll always be there for them and they for me; we have each other, we are a family… one. This will probably be my last entry. I guess I just wanted some kind of final word …sort of wrap up all I had written so far. Life is Good… and Life Goes on. After a day of training, Splinter and his sons are gathered around a campfire.

Splinter: You've done well, my sons… Your spirit glows bright and pure this night. Although I sense an almost peaceful nature throughout… Something still lingers. Yes, we were attacked by our past, Leonardo nearly killed… But we all feel the real cost was to April, a burden we shall always bear. Yet, our experience teaches us, in all the universe change is the only constant. Thus, the way of harmony is to accept change, we make choices in life—and our karma is to accept the changes those choices bring. Just as April chose to take us all into her life, she knew there would be changes… … I believe that April has gained more by her choice than she has lost… And I believe that she knows this. Life is good… And life goes on.

April wakes up in her bedroom to the sound of creaking. Is this another nightmare? She is pleasantly surprised by the four turtles: One serves her breakfast in bed as another prepares to give her flowers and another opens the window blinds to let in the morning light.

(https://turtlepedia.fandom.com/wiki/True_Stories)

Fan Art: TMNT by Kuvshinov-Ilya

Accompanying Podcast: ● Shellheads - episode 16

[mcrcosantos]

Marco glanced down at his hands in his lap. He knew this question was coming, had decided before he'd even made the appointment how he would navigate it. But still, he could feel pinpricks of anxiety starting to build within his chest. This part had to go perfectly. He had no idea if you could tell your lawyer, or rather potential lawyer, that you had basically perjured yourself. "I was charged with breaking and entering." he finally answered, keeping his gaze on his hands for a moment before looking up at her. "I found my brother breaking into someone's house one night, so I went in after him to get him out. But the cops showed up and they found me." It was the truth, just minus the part that he had intentionally taken the fall so his brother could escape. That was what killed him the most about this situation. He'd taken the fall in the hopes that Juan would step up and use the second chance Marco had given him to be a good father to Gabi. Instead, he had wasted it. Marco's sacrifice had truly been for nothing.

"I served five years out of a seven year sentence and was let out early for good behavior. I've had weekly, scheduled check in's with my parole officer, whose card I can give you if you'd like to speak with them, and passed every impromptu visit they've made." he answered. He hated that this was his life now, justifying to everyone he met his 'goodness'. But then she asked about Gabi's mother and that was a topic he found much easier to talk about. "Gabi's mother ran off as soon as she healed from her c-section. She left in the middle of the night with a note that said, "I just can't do this." and we've never heard from her since. I don't think Juan, my brother, even knows where she is now. Gabi is six, so that was almost six years ago. Her family were never really in the picture, as far as I know. She lived with a friend of her mother's, I believe. But I don't know why." Poor Gabi didn't deserve to have such crappy luck in regards to who her parents were, but she did.

His family's situation was a lot easier to explain. "My grandparents raised Juan and I from when I was 10 and Juan was 7. My mother died when I was 5 and my father struggled taking care of the two of us on just one salary. So when he got a really good paying job that required him to travel a lot, he asked my grandparents to take care of us so we wouldn't have such an unstable childhood of moving around a lot." he explained with a shrug. It had hurt at the time, but eventually Marco came to understand his father's decision. "My brother came to see me a few times while I was in jail, but once he heard I was getting out early, he split. I think he knew how pissed I'd be at him because I told him over and over to use this time he'd escaped from being in jail to be a good father to Gabi. Neither me, nor my parents have heard from him since I've been out. I've been staying at his apartment and he hasn't been home since. It's been almost six months, so I dunno if he's coming back." Marco couldn't help the disgusted shake of his head as he explained his brother's cowardice. He didn't know what he'd do if he ever found Juan again, but it wouldn't be a fun time for the youngest Santos, that was for sure. "A few years into my sentence, a friend of mine, who I'd asked to keep an eye on Juan and Gabi, showed up at Juan's and found Gabi crying in her crib by herself. Juan wasn't home. Nobody was. She could tell Gabi had been there for a while, so she called my abuela and they came to take Gabi away. She's been staying with them ever since." Once he had finished explaining, Marco let out a breath. This was the furthest he had gotten with a lawyer. No one had even given him the chance to even explain his situation before. He appreciated her hearing him out. "I know the odds are stacked against me, Dilan, but I've got to try." he added, a determined look on his features.

Dilan was silent, only taking some notes as he spoke and revealed the whole story to her. Finally, when he was done, she leaned back in her chair and thought for a moment before she spoke. "I won't lie, you having gone to prison before will make custody matters hard." Dilan informed him. Typically they didn't even help a mother or father, and he was an uncle trying to get custody. "I'll need to know all the details of your time. From what you were accused of, tried for, and the details of your time served. Also, any contact with any parole office you had or may have." Dilan needed to now all the details of his criminal record before she could fully say if it would be impossible or not for him. "Next, what happened to the mother? And to her family?" He said his brother was out of the picture, but there certainly had been a mother at some point and she needed to know what she and her family were like as that would come into play. Never mind that judges tended to like giving custody to the mother or to her family. "And finally, let's talk about your family. You said your brother has disappeared. Do you or anyone know where he is? You mentioned your grandparents, but never any parents. What happened to your parents? And if your brother has disappeared, where has your niece been staying, and how long has he been gone for?"

[justsomegalwhoshere]

Daddy’s Small Hero

Note: I’m back with another dad Bakugou fic bitches 😎 this time it’s Baku with an absolute chonk of a baby. Again, this entire thing was inspired by @hanji-is-life and the people who sent the amazing asks there. I can’t stop, they’re so good 😩 also idk how fast a baby’s development is. My little sister was a baby but that’s was 11 years ago- Criticism is welcome as always.

Warnings: cursing cuz bakugou, but just fluff overall. Not prof read

‘Had to go to the hospital quickly for an appointment! Katsumi and Sakura are at school already. Take Katsuo with you to the agency please!

-Y/N <3’

Bakugou sighed as he put down the note and headed to the living room where his son was. He woke up and was surprised to see you weren’t there in bed with him, and was only even more surprised he saw his son was awake in his playpen doing his thing. After finding the note tacked on the fridge however, he understood the situation.

Bakugou looked into the playpen and smiled. His son Katsuo. He looked exactly like his dad, ash blonde hair, red eyes, and an absolute monster of a baby. It’s not that he cried a lot, in fact he hardly cried at all. He was just extremely chunky. He was in 6 month clothes at 3 months old. He was a chunky baby, a chubby tummy and rolls on his arms and legs. Hell, he even had rolls for knees! He was currently in toddler clothes at 10 months old and was trying to shove his fat fist in his mouth. He took notice of his dad and started making grabby hands up at him.

Bakugou chuckled. “Hey squirt, ready to start the day?” His son gurgled.

Bakugou lifted his son up with a soft grunt. “Jesus, did you grow overnight? You get heavier every day.” His baby slapped a drool covered hand on bakugou’s cheek. “..I deserved that.”

After strapping on the baby carrier and putting Katsuo in front of chest, he began making breakfast. Starting with Katsuo’s. Sure, it was time consuming making breakfast for his infant son, but he refused to let him eat that processed shit from the store. Bakugou placed a strawberry and a banana on the counter. He wasn’t sure why he did this, but he let his son choose what fruit he wanted in his breakfast. He read somewhere it was good for development. “K, choose one brat,” he said softly. Katsuo stared before grabbing at the strawberry. “Good choice,” Bakugou responded before dropping a few strawberries in the blender and starting his breakfast. The entire time, he stirred up conversation with Katsuo.

“So what did you dream about last night?”

“Da!”

“You fought Endeavour himself and won?”

“Ba-da-ba!”

“No shit, what did you do after?”

“Baaab.”

“Nice. I’ll make note of that the next time I train then.”

…

After a quick breakfast and a diaper change, Katsuki made his way to the agency, baby bag in hand. It should be ok to take Katsuo today. All he had was paperwork and an interview. Katsuki didn’t want just ANYONE working for him. He needed to make sure those who were hired were reliable people. Bakugou stopped in front of the building and addressed his son in the harness, “this is where daddy works. He runs his own agency. Isn’t that cool?” Katsuo blew a little raspberry.

Almost all eyes were on Bakugou as he entered the building. They went from neutral to confused seeing a drooly baby harnessed on the pro hero’s chest, and even more confused seeing a baby bag in hand.

Ignoring all the prying eyes, Bakugou approached Kirishima, who also was gawking at the baby in the harness.

“What? It’s not a fucking alien, get a hold of yourself.” Kirishima’s eyes snapped back up and looked at Bakugou. He put a hand behind his head sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m just not used to seeing you with your son that often.”

“Hah!? Are you calling me a terrible dad?” Bakugou questioned as his eyebrows furrowed more.

“No! Just drop it, look the candidate for receptionist is already with the interviewer. Just make it quick, ok? And don’t send them running away in tears!” Kirishima called out as Bakugou grunted and walked towards his office. Bakugou stopped in front of his office door and addressed his son once again,

“This is daddy’s office. You excited to step inside?”

“Aa!”

“Well, today I am too.” Bakugou opened the door and saw some interviewer extra behind his desk and a female sitting across from it.

“Ah, you’re here Mr. Bakugou! Please, take a seat!” The interviewer chirped. Bakugou sat down in a chair on the side of the desk and unclasped the harness. He set Katsuo on a sitting position on the desk and dumped some toys there for his son. Katsuo took a chunky plastic block and immediately began to chew on it.

The female blinked. “Umm… is the baby staying here the entire time?”

Bakugou growled lowly. “He has a fucking name. It’s Katsuo. And yes, he is. That a fucking problem?”

“N-no, im sorry sir,” she replied as Katsuo cooed.

“Let’s get this started. What’s your name?” Bakugou said, calming down.

The female cleared her throat. “Akane, sir.”

The interview went along fairly smoothly, Akane answered the questions well and seemed reliable enough to work here, Bakugou noted as he played a bit with Katsuo. Still, Bakugou needed more convincing. He didn’t need another receptionist crying into his coffee cup in the mornings. The more the interview progressed, the more impatient Bakugou became.

“Can we hurry this shit up? It’s almost tummy time for Katsuo!” Bakugou barked. Both Akane and the interviewer jumped at the sudden outburst.

“Sorry Dynamight sir, just one more question and we’ll be done here.”

Bakugou huffed and put Katsuo on his lap, who was trying to shove the block in Bakugou’s face. He chuckled. “Stop that shit, that’s fucking gross, wasn’t it in your mouth?” Katsuo gurgled in response, still shoving the drool covered block in his dad’s face. Akane was distracted at this display. Dynamight, the number 2 pro hero, softening for someone? She didn’t think it was possible. Bakugou looked back up, scowling as he realized no one was talking. “The fuck are you looking at?” He growled at Akane.

Akane yelped and cleared her throat. “N-nothing! Just- just looking around” she said hurriedly as she straightened herself.

Bakugou squinted his eyes and looked down at his son. “What do you think of her, Katsuo?”

Katsuo was currently transfixed on shoving two chubby fingers in his own mouth. Once he finally did babble again, he slapped his thighs while bouncing up and down, making “da” sounds over and over. Akane thought the display was cute before Bakugou spoke up again.

“My son says you’re a terrible liar and that you’re on thin fucking ice.”

Akane shivered a bit. She was going to be here a while longer, wasn’t she?

…

A few more exchanges like that back and forth (Katsuo cooing and bakugou interpreting as a a threat), the interview finally ended.

Akane slumped on the wall outside the door and slowly sat herself down. God, that went terribly! She kept getting distracted by the baby! There was no way she was getting this job! She blew it-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a high pitched laugh. Akane registered it was coming from the office. Silently, she got up and peered through the door, which was slightly ajar.

Bakugou was blowing raspberries on his baby’s stomach while Katsuo laughed hysterically. Akane stood there dumbfounded. She never thought Bakugou was the fatherly type. Bakugou kept doing this and laughed along with the baby until he put them down in a sitting position. “Alright brat, it’s tummy time,” he grumbled as he spread a blanket on the desk and laid his son down on the blanket, back facing the ceiling. His son thrashed his limbs around a bit before calming down. Bakugou chuckled and pulled a couple toys out of his bag and settled them around Katsuo. His son tried moving around to grab the toys, cooing all the while.

Akane left before she was noticed. She was confused by this secret side of Bakugou.

…

Despite her doubtful thoughts earlier, Akane managed to land the job as the receptionist at Bakugou’s agency. She liked talking to the people she met everyday, and even met his wife a couple times.

Akane was typing away and noticed someone approaching from the corner of her eye.

“Hello, Mrs. Bakugou! How are you?”

You looked at Akane and smiled, carrying your son. “I’m just fine, thank you! I’m just wondering where Katsuki is!”

“Right here,” a gruff voice responded. Both females turned around and saw the hero approaching both of them.

You gave your husband a kiss and handed him Katsuo and a box wrapped in cloth.

“You forgot your lunch again, I’m starting to believe you’re doing it on purpose” you scolded.

Bakugou laughed and pecked your cheek. “I might start doing it intentionally if I get to see my beautiful wife and son more often at work.”

Akane observed this exchange before Katsuo turned his head towards her, looking at her with wide red eyes and made grabby hands that Bakugou paid no kind to. Akane, however, shivered and turned back towards the computer, typing more feverishly. Those red eyes that looked exactly like his father’s creeped her out ever since that interview. Sure, Katsuo was adorable, but what came out of his mouth was scary.

[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. 

☾

[deadlyflames]

Swanfire Month Day 13: What made you start to ship Swanfire?

Short Story: 

Over 10 years ago, I started writing this fic based on the Baelfire = Henry’s Dad theory after the Return came out. This was way before Tallahassee aired, so we didn’t know anything about Neal.

I would scour old episodes for hints about Henry’s dad and obsessively rewatch Baelfire’s scenes. I got so invested coming up with head-cannon's on how these guys got together that it was impossible for me not to ship it.

I was like 15 when I wrote this fic, and looking back on it now, it’s super cringy and not well written. There's a lot I would do differently now, but for something I wrote as a teenager, I guess it could be worse.

But I’m still proud of 15 year old me for being one of the first Swanfire shippers.

( Neal C./Baelfire and Emma fanfiction sorted by publish date.)

Anyway, even though a lot of my theories were off, I’ve been on this ship ever since.

Long Story under the cut:

Strap in, this is a long explanation featuring a lot of my past tinfoil hatting.

Late April ish - early May ish 2012: I can't quite remember

So I was really hung up on Rumbelle way back when, after ‘Skin Deep’ came out.

I can’t remember the name (and I cant freaking find it!), but I remember reading a Rumbelle fic that mentioned Henry spilling hot chocolate on Mr. Gold’s suit or something. And the narration made an off hand comment that Mr. Gold was more lenient with Henry because he had similar coloring to Bae (dark hair, brown eyes).

And that one little statement made my mind go wild.

This was right after ‘The Return’ aired. We knew Baelfire went to a land without magic and we knew Mr. Gold made the curse to look for him, so it was likely he was going to feature in the future somehow.

Ouat: 1x19

We also knew Henry had a mystery father. We knew he was probably alive given how Emma talked about him. And we knew he didn’t know that Henry existed.

Ouat : 1x01

"And the father?"

"There was one."

"Do I need to be worried about him?"

"No. He doesn’t even know."

Ouat: 1x09

“Henry’s father was no hero. And trust me, he does not need to know the real story.”

We also know he’s probably got the brown hair and brown eyes (dominant genes) that Henry inherited, since Emma has blonde hair and green eyes (recessive genes).

So we’ve got the son of a major character. The reason that this big curse was created and the reason Rumplestilskin manipulates everyone around him. Currently MIA.

And we’ve got Henry’s mystery dad. Emma’s past love interest who did something bad to her and the betrayal cut her deep. Also MIA.

And we know both these characters have brown hair and brown eyes.

So I put on my tinfoil hat and made a whole damn fic about how these two guys could possibly be the same person.

Truth or Lie: published May 28th, 2012

So at this point, there are a few people that were believing the Henry’s Dad=Bae conspiracy, but it wasn’t a super common theory from what I remember. I remember seeing a few posts about it and there were at least these three fics that came out before mine that featured it.

(As far as I remember, Happily ever after by Earthia was the first fic that featured Bae as Henry's dad. (And it was published right after the Return came out too, like damn. they were on the ball)

I went through all the season 1 episodes and came up with all these head-cannons. And when you spend so much time on something you get pretty emotionally attached to the idea.

I remember scrambling to think of a reason how Baelfire left the Enchanted forest 300 years prior and was still alive in the real world. I mean, Rumplestilskin thought he was alive, given how he thought Bae was August. My mental explanation was that, as Rumple said, the bean made him cross the barriers of Time and Space.

Ouat: 1x19

Turned out to be wrong but whatever.

I thought Henry’s dad was the married guy Emma kept mentioning. She seemed pretty forlorn about it, she mentioned that the married guy she dated wouldn’t tell her his real name and she hadn’t known he was married until later. Figured it was a big enough thing that it would explain her anger towards him and the fact that she never told him about Henry

Ouat: 1x05

"You're smart, you know not to get involved with a married guy. It's not worth the heartache. Trust me."

Ouat: 1x14

"See, I have a policy. I won't go out with guys who won't tell me their names. I find it weeds out the ones who like to keep secrets. Like their already married or they store body parts in their freezer."

That also turned out to be wrong.

I thought maybe they had known each other in the foster system. Considering they were both orphans, both abandoned. I thought it would be cute if they knew each other growing up.

Ouat: 1x09

"I spent a lot of time with kids in your situation."

Also wrong. Though I think this was a missed opportunity but whatever.

I noticed the swan pendant that Emma always wore and I thought maybe it was a gift that Baelfire gave her. I even put it in my fic.

Ouat: 1x09

That actually turned out to be right. Yay.

Ouat: 2x06

And I also thought Baelfire was the person August called in the beginning of the Return. I thought they were somehow working together to get Emma to break the curse. Seemed like a reasonable-ish explanation on how he knew about the dagger.

ouat: 1x19

This was probably wrong? Did we ever find out who August was talking to?

September 30th, 2012: When the first episode of season 2 came out, I was utterly convinced this random guy in New York was Bae.

Ouat 2x01:

Truth or Lie: chapter 16: published Oct 2, 2012

November 4th, 2012: When Tallahassee aired and I realized how off I had been I was a bit frustrated by that XD

Truth or Lie: chapter 23: published November 11th, 2012

After that, even though I turned out to be wrong on most of the details of the Swanfire love story, I was still on the Neal = Baelfire ship and still shipping them like crazy. And after Manhattan came out, I was absolutely ecstatic.

Nearly a decade later, I've really grown to prefer the canon story. I love the chemistry and relationship between Emma and Neal in Tallahassee. Two homeless kids finding home in each other. Meet-cute via robbery. That’s damn beautiful.

I also loved the extra stuff that happened in Bae's past (the Darlings, Hook, Neverland, growing up in our world as a thief). It adds a lot of intrigue to his character, even though a lot of it wasn’t explored to its full potential.

So that’s my very long explanation of how I got obsessed with this ship and then never got off of it.

[the-grimsqueaker]

Ok @greencheekconure27​ let me know your thoughts. Because I’ve kind of only gotten up to here so far, and there’s a loooooooooot more in my head. It’s concerning.

The Kymeria is a lost colony ship from Earth's first foray into space, centuries ago. Willow, Sorsha and Mads found what remained of it on a mission, drifting in deep space. The only survivors on board were an old woman and a baby, and the old woman died soon after. The crew of the Kymeria were exposed to a high level of Photon particles that fused with their DNA. Whilst still, technically, human they are immune to the dark and corrupting effects of the Wyrm, and Elora seems to possess some other abilities from this (MAGIC). The ship The Kymeria, referred to in logs found on board as the Kymerian Empire (the colony lost hope of finding a suitable planet to colonise, so they had a floating colony instead) encountered the Wyrm centuries before Bavmorda, and were fleeing from it.

Willow retired as chief medical officer of the USS Tir Asleen a decorated hero, and lives with his daughter on a small outer planet away from the Federation drama. He offered to take Elora with him and raise her where he could try and hone her inate abilities but Sorsha and Mads refused, and there was a little bit of resentment there. Not that Willow doesn't care about Elora (he does, a lot), but he's sure there's something inside her that will help combat the evil Bavmorda was trying to spread. 

Galladoorn was another colony, and they basically isolated themselves from Earth for centuries, believing themselves to be the "purer" humanity. A couple of generations ago they tentatively reopened trade, with purely humans from Earth (no other races), and eventually the royal family of Galladoorn reached out tentatively to align with the Federation (not necessarily join), for whatever purpose (probably nefarious). Graydon was sent as an emissary of his father, and immediately joined Star Fleet, to his father's displeasure. However King Hastur came around remarkably quickly and tries to utilise his son's connections within Star Fleet for Galladoorns own purposes. Galladoorn has a wrym-hole (a small conduit directly to the Wyrm where-upon it can release it’s elixir and slivers of its essence).

Jade is half human/half Romulan. Ballantine, a Vulcan Federation officer, found her, as a toddler, and her dead mother in an escape pod that was being pursued by the Wildwood, a D'deridex-class Romulan warship once commanded by General Kael, a Romulan fanatic of the Wyrm who worked for Bavmorda when she attempted to overthrow the Federation. Nothing is known about who captains the Wildwood in the wake of General Kael's death at the hands of Madmartigan in a legendary battle. It is known that the Bone Reavers, leftover militants from Kael's crew are deadly should they be encountered. Though no one has had reliable reports on the whereabouts of the Wildwood in years. It's almost an urban legend. 

Kit and Airk have been in training for Star Fleet practically since birth, their father Madmartigan is a legendary pilot who left the planet of Galladoorn at a young age to enlist and see the galaxy (he found Galladoorn to be too close minded) and their mother rose to the rank of Admiral and had a decorated career after the defeat of her mother Bavmorda (where she obviously joined the side of the Federation, a key piece in their victory). The twins are very close, and there's natural sibling competitiveness where they try desperately to outdo one another, pushing the other to further success. When they are young, maybe 9-10 years old, their father disappears on an away mission, along with his whole team, and they throw themselves even harder into their training, Airk so that he can prove it'll never happen to him and Kit so she can find her father whom she still believes to be alive.

A few years after Madmartigan disappears Admiral Sorsha Tanthalos is advised that the young ensign on Mads’ final mission, who was presumed lost as well (one Thraxus Boorman), has been found aboard a Ferangi trading vessel and he is immediately bought back to Earth for questioning. He won't (or can't) tell the council what happened and is imprisoned. Sorsha championed this outcome, because the other option was exile and she wanted to keep him close out of both a sense of remembered fondness and also should he be willing to talk about what happened to Mads she wanted him nearby.

Kit meets Jade in grade school and a firm and fast friendship blossoms. This develops into a romantic crush that they both refuse to acknowledge as they enter adolescence. Jade because she's half-‘Vulcan’ so that's illogical, and Kit because that's her best friend obviously she loves her, duh. 

Jade and Kit spar every day, have done since school. Usually hand to hand combat, but they both love Klingon warfare and train with the Bat’leth also. Kit is confident in her use of the weapon, unaware that Jade lets her win 98% of their matches. Jade doesn't know why she does this, it's illogical. Couldn't have anything to do with the way Kit's eyes light up in delight when Jade hits the mat, and the cocky grin that makes her look 300% more beautiful than she already is. Not at all. 

Star Fleet promote Kit, Airk, Elora, Graydon and Jade to ensigns upon graduation, they're all top of their respective studies and classes, the cream of the cadet crop as it were. For the first time in their lives the twins are separated and put onto different ships to commence their careers. They're not happy about it but orders are orders. Airk is posted with Graydon and Elora aboard the USS Harbinger, Kit is posted with Jade (yay!) aboard the USS Eclipse. A couple of months into their assignment there is a report that Airk and Graydon's vessel was attacked by an unknown craft and Airk has been taken (the only member of his crew to be so). Graydon saw the whole thing, as did Ballantine who was injured, and was rushed back to Earth to give testimony to the council (and Sorsha). Kit, as a close family member, is also given leave to return to Earth, and Jade goes with her. Elora snuck back with Graydon, she wants to help.

Ballantine was assigned Chief of Security aboard Airk's vessel. After Airk goes missing there's a mutiny aboard, and most of the crew are killed. Ballantine takes the vessel and disappears. This is discovered by the one distress call that made it back to the Federation. A warrant is posted for his arrest, but it's also freaking Sorsha out personally because she has known Ballantine since she was a junior officer and this is very out of character for the stalwart Vulcan.

Kit volunteers to lead the mission to rescue Airk, which her mother swiftly shuts down. Kit hasn't had the experience to lead. That goes to Captain Kase, an officer that served with her parents in the Nockmaar Uprising and whom the twins have known their whole lives. Kit can go though, Sorsha knows well enough she can't stop Kit from doing that. Jade volunteers immediately, as does Graydon as he was there (he feels bad). Elora as well. Sorsha says that they will likely need advanced medical knowledge as there's no way to know what Airk will be going through, so they need to find Willow. And an experienced pilot, for which she volunteers Boorman, who trained under Mads. 

Kit - Wanted Helm, got Science Officer (she's mad about it, she wants to be a pilot but they have Boorman, science was what she was next best at. She does little projects aboard the ship, trying to enhance stuff like the shuttles etc, and generally getting in Graydon's way about things. They do become good friends though, once she stops blaming him for what happened to Airk.)

Jade - Security Officer (she feels her feelings very deeply, and believes that the discipline of the role will help her keep that calm logic Vulcan's are renowned for, believing the difficulty comes from her half-human side. She's yet to learn of her half-Romulan bloodline)

Elora - Medical (also likes cooking. To save on replicator rations as the journey continues she offers to cook for the crew. Also has a very cool head when it come to medical emergencies.)

Graydon - Engineering (put that boy in a position where he barely has to talk to anyone and he can tinker with stuff, he'll be happy. Also plays the flute and writes in his spare time.)

Boorman - Helmsman (has some issues. slow to trust anyone, but does seem over-protective of Kit whenever he's put on a mission with her, like he's worried she'll disappear and it'll be his fault.)

Willow - Medical (then captain. mad about it, he's retired damn it!)

There are other members of the crew, many of whom die in the first encounter when Kase is also killed. They're basically running their ship, the USS Fellowship (Intrepid class ship a la Voyager), on skeleton crew. 

Bavmorda found the Wyrm initially, making that connection to the darkness, a living presence that corrupts any and all who encounter it, warping them to it's will. It's one big space virus! Bavmorda was tainted, spread that (minimally) to Sorsha and the kiddos. Now the Wyrm is dying (maybe?) and needs to reabsorb that essence, to feed and rejuvenate itself and that's why it sent its minions (who are infected but it’s tainted, for some reason combining with human DNA is purer and closer to the Wyrm’s original makeup) to get one of its previous subordinates’ offspring. The Wyrm lives beyond the Great Barrier and only accessible from the Delta quadrant. There is a small wyrm-hole that it can feed its’ influence through, which is what Bavmorda found. There are several tinier holes around the Alpha and Beta quadrants, one on Skellin. A new one formed when Mads was leading his mission and he was transmatted out, and Boorman and Allagash crash-landed, each blaming the other for the accident where their craft was practically destroyed and they almost died. Allagash actually loses an eye.

The USS Fellowship is damaged in a run-in with the famed Wildwood, where Kase and a large majority of others are killed. Blows out a warp coil! They flee the larger war vessel for now. They have to make repairs, Graydon suffers very bad plasma burns! The only M-class planet they can land on is Nockmaar, which they do to fix the ship and Graydon. Kit feels insecure because of her grandmother’s legacy. Nockmaar is a dreary planet basically designed to be antagonistic towards any who enter there, it is an atmosphere that breeds fear and paranoia. Graydon was infected with the Wyrm intentionally by his father as a child, Galladoorn are attempting to complete what Nockmaar started (and gain ultimate power and totally not be slaves to the Wyrm.) This infection takes place as the alchemical warding that was placed on him is burned off by the plasma burns, and he attempts to kill Elora before being neutralised by her abilities (he's fine). Fixing the ship turns out to be a lot harder, and while they are stranded on Nockmaar they are set upon by Ballantine and his infected crew. Elora, with help from Willow, manages to neutralise the taint but they're too far gone to be saved and Ballantine asks Jade to kill him. 

They utilise spare parts from the USS Harbinger to repair the Fellowship. After leaving Nockmaar they are pursed by the Gales, who are attempting to kidnap Kit and destroy Elora. They evade the Gales in an asteroid field, and find themselves trapped by the Wildwood. The vessel is scanned and they are locked in place by a tractor beam. Six people (guess who? Obviously it's Jade, Kit, Elora, Graydon, Boorman and Willow) are transported out, onboard the outlaw vessel. The Bone Reavers are intimidating, a mix of races and half-races, led by the confident and cool half-Romulan Scorpia. She has Elora and Kit taken to the brig, Graydon and Willow are taken to the cargo hold (just to split everyone up I think) and Boorman is locked in her quarters (tied up of course). Jade is restrained in the galley. Similar events as the show. Rool and Ganush are aboard, and assist Willow and Graydon to bust out, as Rool is an old friend of Willow's (not Federation but just in general, they are fleeing something happening on the brownie home world which is a thing).  After a daring duel, where Jade loses to Scorpia, it is revealed that they are sisters.

During this reunion Kit and Jade have their fight. Jade asks if Kit knew she wasn't Vulcan like she'd always believed, Kit says she suspected but couldn't be sure. Then they have their confession scene later. In the midst of this the ship is attacked by a stealth group of Cardassians who are seeking slaves for their mines on the planet of Skellin. Kit is transported away by one right in front of Jade, Willow was grabbed as well, along with a whole bunch of the crew of the Wildwood.

 The USS Fellowship requests the aid of the Wildwood to find their comrades and any others who have been taken in the raid, and Wildwood agrees, also reveal this isn't the first time they've been raided by the Cardassians. The reason they are so close to Federation space at the moment is because it seemed like the safest option. Combining their scanning power they are able to track and locate the planet and the life-signs of their friends but they are unable to transmat directly into the mines. They instead transmat a small party (more would be detected by the mines superior defences) to the planets surface some distance from the mines, and they guerilla their way towards a maintenance entry which Boorman seems to know intimately. 

 Inside the mines Kit and Willow are separated and taken to an interrogation chamber, where they find Allagash. Allagash is cagey about how he got there, he's impersonating Madmartigan to the Cardassians, and Kit is taken in by his charm and the fact that he knew her dad. 

The Cardassians attempt to interrogate Kit, I think some actual torture may be involved. Meanwhile the others are infiltrating the mines. They take out a small purifying party, find the purification chamber where the elixir is being processed. Realise the mine is being used to procure the raw elixir, that Bavmorda made use of in the Nockmaar uprising. Scorpia leaves the party to rescue the rest of the slaves, hoping to get them all out the front door. Gives Jade an ultimatum and bounces. Elora and Graydon have a conversation about the events on Nockmaar while Boorman and Jade take out another couple of scouts, then Elora accidently blows up the refining tank. They all change into the slavers gear and commence the search.

Kit is tortured for information about Elora Danan, which confuses her. Will also make her come to resent Elora later, as the focus point for physical pain as well as emotional. Willow and Allagash are both pleading for it to stop, but it doesn't until Elora accidently blows up the refining tank several floors above distracting the Cardassians who leave to track down the infiltrators.

Kit is compus-mentus enough to slip one of her wrists out of a restraint, and using a tool breaks free. Allagash has to wait patiently for his turn to be released (Kit is not up to hauling anyone up from a ledge). They make their way down several floors to where Allagash swears there's a way out. Kit helps eliminate some alien opposition. 

Everyone convenes in a chamber several floors below the last alien encounter, and Jade and Kit reunite. Graydon has been wrangled into assisting the aliens take out the suddenly rebelling slaves. Problematic. Boorman and Allagash fight each other. Realise they have all been suckered down here because this was once a vent that had blasted open when they flew over, and where Mads had disappeared. They're looking for the flight data, to see if it could clear their names.

Ideas for a Willow Star Trek AU

(Just the ideas, sorry.I suck at putting words on paper so if anyone wants to pick this up,I'm begging you please do.)

Jade is a half Romulan and half Klingon. She was adopted and raised on Vulcan by commander Ballantine, a Vulcan Starfleet officer and a close friend of Admiral Tanthamore, who found her after a mission to escort some colonists had gone very, very wrong.He does genuinely love her, but has never once told her about what happened back then.Despite knowing about her romulan heritage he raised her as half-Vulcan instead, as he believed things would be easier for her if she didn't know.Nor has he ever told her about a certain exiled Klingon general by the name of K'ael, who may or may not be her biological father.

(K'ael was not a nice guy. He was a charismatic political extremist who had some good points, but also committed many war crimes. Best let his legacy rest)

Jade went to Starfleet academy to follow in her father's footsteps and met Kit there.

Sorsha Tanthalos was born in a colony of descendants of the genetically enhanced supersoldiers of the Eugenics Wars (like Khaan & co) led by her mother Bavmorda.Never quite managing to meet her mother's ideals of "perfection", she ran way and joined Starfleet, making a dazzling career and eventually becoming an admiral.She is known for her diplomatic skills and is often called in for negotiations, though deep down she's tired and really would go back to being an explorer instead, not that she'll ever admit it.Sorsha despises her mother's legacy and everything associated with it, which at times leads her to make some questionable choices.

The Bone Reavers started out as a group of renegade Romulans fleeing from their government, but evolved into a mixed-species tribe of space nomads hanging out on the fringes of colonized space. They got by through trade, hauling cargo, salvage, and other odd jobs, as well as the odd bit of contraband ans space piracy.

At some point in time a newcomer called K' ael took over as their leader.Under him the None Reavers managed to rise considerably in power and wealth (and infamy) by serving as space mercenaries to whomever paid well, eventually allying themselves with an ambitious warlord called Bavmorda.

Unfortunately for them Bavmorda's downfall dragged the Bone Reaver's down as well: due to their indiscriminating attacks on border settlements, as well as Bavmorda's and K'aels atrocities, they became hated by pretty much everyone, making them pariahs and leading them to resort to criminal activities more often than before.

Scorpia is the leader of what remains of the Bone Reavers.She's seeking a home for her people away from the Federation or any other major power.

The Galladoorn is a humanoid alien species (hey, it's star trek) which recently allied themselves with the Federation, though they're not looking to join.They have an empire of their own, and are quite powerful, but appear to be fairly peaceful and benign at first glance.However as the series progresses they will gradually be revealed to have a dark side.

Madmartigan was a captain in the Galladoornish navy.He was court-martialed and formally exiled from all Galladoornish territories for reasons he refuses to discuss.He then joined Starfleet instead, earning the rank of captain incredibly fast, and got put in charge of an spaceship specialising in exploration and first contact much like the Enterprise did. Madmartigan often claimed to be the best captain in the history of Starfleet. The admiralty's opinions on this are ...mixed.

Airk Thaughbaer was Madmartigan's second in command in the Galladoornish navy, who took over his post as captain after his court martial.Last time Mads talked to him he was a vice admiral.Airk was killed soon after.

Madmartigan met Sorsha on a joint Starfleet mission and married her.She was promoted shortly after.They were happy.However about ten years in Madmartigan went MIA during a mission under mysterious circumstances.Sorsha had been the one who suggested him for the mission, and she never quite forgave herself for that.

Thraxus Boorman,the rather traumatized rookie ensign that was accompanying him was found only years later after escaping from a Cardassian prison, nowhere near the last place they were seen.The third member of the away team, Lt. Allagash, was never found and is believed to have been killed in action.Boorman refused to tell anything about what happened and resigned from Starfleet. He pops up on Sorsha's radar occasionally, usually to ask her to bail him out (again).

Willow Ufgood was Madmartigan's second-in-command and chief science officer. He stayed in Starfleet for awhile after Mads disappeared, became a captain, then promptly resigned over a"political disagreement" and returned to his home planet, where he became a renowned professor at a local university.

Kit and Airk joined Starfleet as early as they could, much to Sorsha's chagrin, as she's terrified they'll vanish just like their father.

And then Airk did just that.

Zivian Hastur is the current emperor of Galladoorn. A few years ago, he visited Earth for negotiations, and Kit, Jade and Airk got assigned as tour guides for his son, Prince Graydon.This somehow *accidentally* resulted in Graydon running off to join Starfleet.For diplomatic purposes, as a symbol of cooperation between the two powers, off course ,and definitely not because his father kept suggesting they seal the treaty with a personal union between him and the admiral's daughter.

Graydon joins the search for Airk as a science officer

Jörgen Kase is an experienced captain and Kit and Airk's mentor who gets put in charge of the search party.One last mission before he retires...yup, you've guessed it, he gets killed in the pilot episode.

Ensign Brunhild "Dove" Davids is Airk's girlfriend who asks her commanding officer for "personal time off" and then promptly sneaks aboard the search party's ship as stowaway to go look for Airk. She's a talented medical officer who likes to cook in her spare time. Her file says she was born on earth, but there are some odd discrepancies, and all records of her are a decade old at most.Also both Willow and Sorsha seem to know her even though she's never met them...very weird.

Willow only joined this mission as a last favour to Sorsha and because he's known the twins since their birth and is fond of them.But Kase dies unexpectedly and he's the most experienced officer on board so he's captain now. He is Not happy about this.

Boorman gets pulled out of whatever prison he's landed himself in this time by Sorsha to serve as their guide, being an expert on the area where Airk and his team were last seen.He eventually takes over as the crews navigator/ pilot

Jade is the security officer

Kit is the (somewhat self-proclaimed) second-in-command after the original XO, Silas, gets killed

Kenneth the mudmander is a non-humanoid telepathic alien of a previously unknown species that tried to hijack the ship to escape from slavers. He forms a strong bond with Graydon and eventually takes over as their guide after they leave known space (insert plot convenient wormhole)

Airk switched between divisions (and girlfriends/boyfriends) so often that nobody took him too seriously when he settled for command, claiming to want to become an even better captain than his father was. (he meant it, though).He's a bit of a jack of all trades, and a pretty good engineer, though he doesn't really believe himself to be particularly good at anything.He also gets trapped in holodeck malfunctions A Lot.

@the-grimsqueaker wyd think?