#i tried to paste a photo the other week and my girlfriend LAUGHED at me

[vaniloqu3nce]

when were y’all gonna tell me we knew bacteria was mutating to live in space and SOME of it can be found outside of the ISS

When was the science community of tumblr going to tell me about space bacteria. You were just hiding it, huh? You wanted to keep the space bacteria all to yourself!

WELL I FOUND OUT! ME! AN IDIOT! SO AHA!

THE NERDS HAD ALIENS FOR LIKE THE PAST THREE YEARS AND NOBODY TOLD ME!!!! i feel so left out!!!! This is so cool!!! And I know its not technically aliens cause these bacteria can be found on earth but they’re MUTATING!!!!

BACTERIA IS SO COOL!!!

[razorblade180]

A Quiet Home

Jaune:*walks in* Hey, I’m back.

Weiss:*writing*….

Jaune:I umm, got some food. Saph said she always makes too much so-

Weiss:You should’ve turned it down. Your nephew is a growing boy.

Jaune:She wouldn’t have offered if she couldn’t help. How’s rent looking?

Weiss:Despite my colossal fuck up on the mission, it’s covered.

Jaune:Hey, what’s important is-

Weiss:Jaune, don’t patronize me. I screwed up, got my leg hurt, got the client hurt, and lost the target. *puts pen down* Thankfully I found another high paying one. It’s a three weeks long and I’m-

Jaune:Actually…I put in a request to take that mission too. Client said he’ll think it over.

Weiss:*turns around* Excuse me? You’re taking my job line ups? You went in the last two missions. It’s my turn to-

Jaune:You need a break.

Weiss:Tsk, not this shit again. I just had a break!

Jaune:Crunching bill numbers is not a break. Weiss, your head isn’t in the game, and that’s fine. After all, your mom…

Weiss: “My mom” nothing we aren’t talking about this. There’s nothing to talk about. She lived drunk and died drunk. Predictable ending.

Jaune:Weiss-

Weiss:Give me space! And cancel your request while you’re at it. You’re in no condition to go on another assignment so quickly.

Jaune:…I’m not letting you go on that mission.

Weiss:Sorry, you’re not letting me? *stands up* I don’t remember needing your approval.

Jaune:That’s not what I-

Weiss:No it was, or else you wouldn’t have applied for the same mission despite our agreement. I made one mistake and now it goes out the window?

Jaune:You’re angry.

Weiss:Of FUCKING course I’m angry! I’m trying to keep these lights on and not burden others while you’re bringing in leftovers and stopping my job!

Jaune:You’re not doing your job! You’re running away from your problems!

Weiss:Oh you’re one to talk! The only reason why you’re here is because moving back in with your folks would be too much to handle.

Jaune:I moved in with you because you needed a roommate! My girlfriend was cutoff and alone and I could help! All I’ve been doing is trying to help!

Weiss:I didn’t ask for your help! I was handling things just fine!

Jaune:You were struggling.

Weiss:AND I’M NOT NOW!? Does it make you feel a little better to say you tried. Can’t help but I want to fix things huh?

Jaune:That’s not fair.

Weiss:Oh now we want to be fair? After intentionally making my job harder? For someone who is “trying to help” it never really works out for you now does it!? Not for me not for P-

She immediately covered her mouth, scared and shocked from the venom that almost slipped past her lips; this carelessness was given back with a stare of contempt that ate at her.

Weiss:I-

Jaune:There was a never a second I thought you were broken, or needed to be fixed. Guess that was my fault. Looks like your father did a number on you after all.

Her blood went cold. Weiss’s cheeks began to burn red as her anger boiled over.

Weiss:And yours never cared to do a swing to begin with.

Jaune:Speaking from experience?

Weiss:Get. Out.

Jaune:….

Weiss:I SAID GET OUT! I DON’T NEED THIS FROM YOU! I DON’T NEED YOU!

Jaune:…Good, cause you don’t have me. Sell my stuff for all I care.

He reaches in his pocket and throws his key at her. Weiss catches on reflex before hearing a thunderous boom as Jaune slams the door on the way out that shakes the room and cause a picture to shatter. The room is deathly silent as Weiss stares at the door.

Weiss:F-FINE! RUN BACK TO YOUR FAMILY!

………..

Not knowing what to do, Weiss simply grabbed her broom to clean up the mess Jaune made. Glass was half hazardly swept aside as she picked up a broken frame holding a photo of her laughing with Jaune, their face covered with cake from their house party with a banner overhead.

“A year of memories and miracles”

Weiss’s hand began to tremble until the picture slipped from her fingers. A giant pit filled her stomach and threatened to gag her as her knees fell to floor and her hands covered a ghastly wail. Finally, her breath was robbed and tears broke through shaking eyes filled with dread over the reality that was flooding in. The miracles were gone, and the memories, now bittersweet.

[wileys-russo]

alanna kennedy, “my left side is my best side”, golden hour beach

golden hour II a.kennedy

"mac gimme a piggyback!" you launched yourself onto the taller girl who grunted and stumbled forward slightly, hurrying to grab your legs as your arms wrap around her neck.

"can't your girlfriend do this?" the goalkeeper sighed, alanna a hundred or so metres ahead deep in conversation with ellie and hayley.

"don't act like you don't miss me when we're not on camp maccy." you cooed pinching her cheeks, the other girls turning to make their way down the stairs and onto the beach.

you'd grown up playing football with the goalkeeper and it was her who introduced you to alanna long before the two of you even started dating, but from day one you couldn't help but be drawn to the tall blondes confidence.

"right freeloader off! rides over." mackenzie dropped you down to your feet, racing onto the beach after caitlin who had taken peach off the leash, all of you playing a friendly in wollongong against portugal the coming weekend.

"don't you dare!" you stopped mid step, foot hovering above the sand as your girlfriend appeared. "my vintage dunks are not getting sandy or wet." alanna warned sternly as you gave her an innocent smile, forever raiding her extensive closet which may as well have been just as much yours as hers.

"piggyback then? turn around." you gestured as the blonde simply scoffed. "yeah you wish babe, sit." you nearly fell backwards as her hands fell to your shoulders and pushed you to sit on the stairs.

"lani!" you protested as your girlfriend pulled your shoes off, swatting your feet away as you tried to kick her away. "seriously? i'm not walking around barefoot its freezing!" you scowled as she shrugged.

"stop stealing my shoes then." the blonde smirked, holding them hostage in one hand as the other was extended for you to take. "give me yours then, they're already sandy." you bargained nodding down to the shoes on her own feet.

"why should i walk around barefoot? like you said babe, its freezing." the blonde scoffed as you fixed her with a firm look. "would you like to get laid in the next two weeks alanna?" you warned, her smile dropping and you could have laughed at the speed in which her shoes were stripped off and shoved onto your feet.

"you're like a horny teenage boy." you shook your head in disbelief, accepting her hand up. "well when your girlfriends as hot as mine is, you just can't help it babe." alanna smirked, lightly smacking your ass and stealing a kiss before you could tell her off.

stepping down onto the sand you watched a look of disgust cross the blondes face as she did the same. "why didn't you take your socks off you freak!" you laughed as she groaned.

"fuck i don't know i didn't think about it." she moaned in annoyance, handing you the shoes you'd previously been wearing and bending down to slip her socks off. "lani!" you shrieked as she tossed them at you with a grin.

"you're such a child." you shoved the shoes into her chest and took off walking, hearing her follow after you with an amused chuckle.

"work it for the camera, work it!" caitlin yelled out in a funny accent, mackenzie off running with peach and ellie as hayley posed for photos in front of the water and you all gassed her up. "oi el!" the brunette yelled as the defender zapped past and pushed her, sending her tumbling onto her ass.

"fuck now my jeans are all wet. ellie!" hayley took off after her with a growl, peach sprinting with them. "let me guess. you want trio photos?" you sighed as three phones were thrust toward you, the sunset meaning for optimal lighting as the mostly empty beach was bathed in a soft golden glow.

"would you like me to take these before its dark?" you smiled in amusement as the three girls bickered back and forth about how to pose and who to stand, finally falling into some sort of agreement as you snapped at least fifty pictures.

"okay. our turn!" alanna clapped, grabbing your hand as you hastily passed the phone to caitlin before you were dragged into your girlfriends strong hold.

"c'mere sexy." you squealed as suddenly your legs were wrapped around her waist and you clung onto her shoulders as she teasingly pretended to drop you. "now kiss me like you love me." the blonde grinned before puckering her lips expectantly.

"wait! my left side is my best side." alanna pulled back right before you could kiss her, your eyes rolling as did her best friends as she turned so her left side faced the camera.

"babe that was your cue to go 'oh lani baby you don't have a best side, they're both equally as gorgeous'." your girlfriend reminded, making a face as she clearly awaited the words to fall from your mouth which only curled into a smile.

"just shut up and kiss me you freak."

[keeponquinning]

Yes, Professor — Part One of Three.

Joseph Quinn x Erotica Novelist Fem!Reader. 18+

Word Count — 4.6k

Summary — slightly based on this, but mainly. You're Joseph's secret writer girlfriend who you met amidst the start of his convention tours, things are hot and heavy between you two, though strained for the inconvenience of not living in the same city and not being official. You're forced to spend a week apart but plan to meet up with him back in London on the last day of his Con appearance, and after teasing him for his Professor type choice of outfits, well, you just couldn't resist showing up dressed as your professor's favorite student, now could you? We thought not.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Part One — He's in London, you? Are not. In a party for you best friend's boyfriend, you manage to get him in a call, hearing his voice, laughing, conversations wishing to see his face, but you can take what you can get.

Preview —

Warnings — Not too many, nothing really smutty happens this part, maybe some dirty talk. Established relationship, it is a big ol' RPF and my first attempt. If not your thing, that's valid AF, just don't be mean / a dick about it. I am but a drop in this massive ocean called Tumblr, just swim on past and enjoy the waves without me if it bothers, I beg. There's also cursing. 18+ so minors, PLEASE, DNI!

Notes — Oh, this came out sooner than my last one, huh?? Mainly because I decided to split this into three parts instead of one big ol' one shot. I def learned my lesson lmao I had a lot of fun writing this, dialogue and banter are my fave things and there was a lot of that in this. Kinda fell in love with these two and planning on doing an actual multi-chaptered fic with them, how they met, all that jazz, let me know if it's something you'd want. Or not, if I get just one person like "yes, please" I'll do it bc people pleasing tendencies fuel me. I've left Reader pretty vague and ambiguous but we do have her mentioning Joseph's British-ness and obviously not living in the same continent because transatlantic romance is so rom com it hurts, but, feel free to ignore that and implant your own background on her, kinda the point, right?? Alright, hope you like this! Like, Reblog and Comment, they fuel me and make my heart go pitter patter!

Taglist — @lunaapis , @munsons-mayhem28 , @inourtownofhawkins , @hopperscock ( i fucking love this url you have no idea )

"What are you wearing?"

You hear an amused chuckle on the other end of the call, along with a distinct clicking of tongue. "...don't I get a hello first or are you missing me that much?"

A snort comes out your way, totally undignified, but he'd never call you out on it. "I mean, I am, but... Shut up." He's cackling now, that laugh that makes you smile stupidly and you're glad you're on an audio call rather than face time — though you wouldn't mind seeing his stupidly pretty face. "I'm serious, what are you wearing?"

"Why are you asking?" his voice strained, amused, but strained. He must be smiling, his laughter barely dying down.

Taking a deep breath, you explain, "Because I haven't seen you in a week and from the photos I've been seeing of you all day today... I need to prepare myself for when I see you tomorrow."

"I need you to repeat that, not the nonsense about my clothes but the...seeing me tomorrow bit."

Your eyes closed, lips stretching in a smile that, in the crowded room you were in the middle of, you tried to suppress. Teeth biting your lip, eyes cautiously looking around the party you were attending but your mind being on a man across the pond as it were, you let out a soft scoff. "....I need to prepare myself for when I see you tomorrow."

"Damn fucking right you will," his voice low, almost a growl that was...unfortunate, considering your surroundings. But more important, his tone was wistful. You heard the sound of gentle squeak, taking to mean that he sat on his bed, one that you missed very much at the moment. "I can't wait for that, and you will be needing to prepare yourself once we're alone... I fucking miss you."

"Mmm, your voice notes kinda gave that impression, yeah," you chuckled, hearing his as well. "Though I enjoyed hearing them when I wake up. It's lame, but, I do miss hearing your voice first thing in the morning." You hear him take a deep breath, exhaling with a soft hum. "Among other things. Hotel beds are just a bit too cold without you."

"Mhm, feeling the same way with my own bed, darling. Have to remind myself it's just been a week, but, feels a bit longer. Can't wait to have you back, though I know, temporarily."

"I know," this time it was you that sounded wistful. You knew you shouldn't, it was a good reason you'd be away from him. The latest in your book series was out there, digitally and in a week, in physical form. The gap between that and the previous book a bit too wide for your liking, or that of your publisher and readers. It was good that you finally finished it, but in that, included a tour of the book, which meant away from him, your sort of boyfriend. "At least you'll have me for a week, well, between your filming, anyway. Enough time for your friends to get sick of me and then wish I went away to have you to themselves again and for my friends to miss the me that isn't attached to your hip."

"Hah," he scoffed, a sound of a stretch that you could only assume was him laying down on his bed. "My friends are sick of me now, keep complaining about how I miss you. Even have Wes saying if I'm this needy without you, can't imagine how you handle me by your side, so, you've somehow got their sympathy and on your side, I'm the problem now, apparently." You couldn't hold in the laugh that barked its way out of you, and you could hear the offense even from the other line. "Oi. Don't laugh, you knew I was needy from the get go, I made no attempt to hide that."

Recovering from the laugh, you have a nod, though you knew he couldn't see, "Yeah, you are a bit of a clinger." Your smile still lingering, eyes soft, "But... It's...kinda one of your more endearing qualities, so... I'll take it."

"Oh, how gracious of you, accepting that I fucking adore you to the point of being miserable enough without you and getting on my friends fucking nerves"

He always made you laugh, you didn't even know if he intended to, but you could hear him laughing alongside you, so he must have, right? "God, hearing you curse is the best, y'know? You seem like a nice, proper boy, but then you curse and it..." You shake your head, "Makes me miss you more."

You heard him scoff, a wet sound, and you could almost see him licking his lips with a smile. "I know, dead sexy and all that... Hard to resist."

A shrug of your shoulders, more to yourself, of course, "...it kinda is. Makes me wanna do things to you to make you curse more..."

He groaned, which was also a lovely noise on its own. "Don't say things like that when you're not in grabbing distance, it's not fair."

You smiled, almost wickedly, eyes catching sight of your best friend, the only reason you were away from him at the moment. "Yeah, well, at least you're alone on your bed, I'm surrounded by people in my pretty dress, not getting grabbed and kissed by you and..." you trailed off as said best friend stopped in front of you, a pointed brow arched. You cleared your throat, smile still in place, "Which is totally fine, because I'm here to support my best friend and her crazy talented boyfriend on his birthday and album release and I'm totally fine with it."

"Mhm," she let out with a nod, "What I thought. Hi, Joe, can you two say goodbye because said boyfriend is gonna start up in a few minutes and I will not have you two have phone sex while he's performing, thank you."

"Excuse me!"

"You're not excused! You're so not excused — you're not allowed."

"That's just—" you were about to say rude when you very clearly hear the cackling on the other end of your call. "Stop laughing! You're not allowed to laugh right now, that's not fair."

"I'm sorry!" he let out, his voice thin, high, and you could hear an attempt to calm the laughter — but an attempt he did not win as more laughter came rolling out, making your lips twist and wanting to laugh despite yourself. Why did his laugh have to be so infectious sometimes? "I'll stop, I swear..." he continued, making you roll your eyes, looking at the smirking face of your best friend. "....oh, god... Tell Jen I said hello."

You couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, looking over at her, "The painfully British one says hello, because manners maketh the man I'm sure."

Jen cackled as well, shaking her head, "I'll give you two like, ten minutes, tops. You're introducing them, remember?"

"Of course. Ten minutes." A mock salute given, you watch as she turned toward the stage of the intimate venue, just a smaller group of closest friends. Taking a deep breath, directing your attention to your phone, "J o e."

"Oh, no, not Joe. I'm always in trouble when I get Joe instead of your usual Joseph."

"Damn right, that was not cool, I know we're not official, but, you have to have my back. It's the most chivalrous thing to do."

He snickered, "I'm... I'm sorry, I'm sorry! But, well," you heard him release a soft laugh, then heard, "...not to point fingers but you did start the conversation asking me what I was wearing... So was that...not where this was heading...?"

You clicked your tongue off the roof of your mouth very disappointingly, kind of. "No, you perv, I just wanted to know if my sort of boyfriend is going to continue dressing up as a slutty professor so I can figure out how to handle seeing that in person."

"I—" he started, but words cut off with a snicker, and then a proper laugh. "You—Okay. Several things. Don't fucking call me your sort of boyfriend. I am your boyfriend, just.... Well. Secret boyfriend. At least for now—"

"—until your publicist deems me worthy of being known to be dating you."

"No, just... Until we're more established, is all. And I am looking forward to that, taking you to events and such. I'd love to go to the book tour with you, show off how fucking proud I am of you and this book. But... I also don't want to overshadow your accomplishment, the way it's so mad right now. But I am your boyfriend, I know you say it in a joking manner with Jen and our friends, I get it, but... And it's fine to joke about it. Really. But I need you to know it's real for me and I hope it is for you, too. It... It is, isn't it?"

You smiled softly, his words warming your heart more than they should, once again blown away by his sense of sincerity. You never really dated anyone like that before and sometimes, it honestly takes you by surprise. "... Yeah, I know. And I don't mind it, honestly. I'd end things if I did... You're my boyfriend and I'm your girlfriend and...if my joking around hurt you in any way, then I'm sorry, you know I don't mean it. Not with something like this. You...mean a lot to me in a very short amount of time and...it's kind of overwhelming sometimes."

There was a soft sigh, a pleased one, from the other end of the call. "I know. I feel the same. Was never expecting you, or anyone, not like this. And no, you didn't hurt me, not one bit. There's no worry of that. I just needed you to know, I'm in this with you."

Though you certainly didn't need to hear it, there's a lightness from within your chest at his words, a light ease in your breathing and your soft smile grew wide. You didn't need him to confirm what you already knew, but, it was lovely to hear. "Me too. I'm in this, too. Especially if you're going to be sweet like that," you end with a light chuckle, joined by his own. "Not fair on your part. But, I'll let it pass."

"My girlfriend is very gracious like that, I'm so lucky to have her."

"Don't you forget it. Okay. I'm assuming you had more to say?"

"Yes, thank you for that. Was quickly getting side tracked... I just wanted it to be known that I am severely disappointed that phone sex is off the table, that broke my heart since we've been in an almost constant state of phone tag, its ridiculous," you giggled at that, actually giggled which was rare. And he knew it, you could hear his chuckle, and though you couldn't see him, you knew he was pleased with that smug little smirk on his lips. "But, I'll survive that. Also. Slutty professor? I've no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, come on. You dress like a romantic, slutty professor to these things and you know it."

"I think someone's too far into their own erotica stories and confusing some things, I... Dress as a professional. I have to. My stylist deems it so and I just...do as I'm told."

"...Joseph. What were you wearing today, and don't lie, I've seen the pictures. I just wanna hear you say it."

"You're being absolutely ridiculous, I... My loafers, my favorite ones, trousers, erm... Blue button shirt and... Well, a cardigan..." There was a pause, and you knew he was rethinking it all. "...beige cardigan and.....my dark grey...coat—okay. Maybe... Maybe it was a bit professor-ish. You...might be on to something there..."

"Uh-huh. Dressed like a professor who cares and has long office hours for any of his students to come by to unwind..."

"Stop that," he let out with a laugh. "That should be your next book."

"Oh, who says it won't be? I'll dedicate it to you, for inspiration. I'm assuming you'd be open for me to come to you for...brainstorming? Test out scenes, just, y'know, for the sake of art and authenticity?"

"Morning, noon and night, yes, I'm all yours and your....creativity." He chuckled, softly, there was a lingering silence between the two of you, and then a groan from his end. "Just out of curiosity... Would... I dunno, say...a sweater vest, erm... Like....Oof, a grey one with a dark jacket, that um... Is that slutty professor chic, you think?"

"I fucking knew it."

"Hold on! It was... It was a thought... Are you into the slutty professor look, though?"

"Why do you think I called you in the first place? Yes, of course I'm into it. Do you know what it's like, seeing your pics all over my social media, people sending me pics of you with that cardigan and long coat and just... Do you?"

You could almost hear his smug smile as he let out an even soft chuckle. "I do, actually... You're wearing that burgundy dress aren't you?" Your brows rose, though you didn't say anything, not yet. A soft little hum buzzing into your ear through your phone. "I've been stalking your instagram the past week, so I saw the picture you posted today. It's that burgundy dress I like. The one with the bow at the hip and the... The matching choker with the jewelry that you think is almost tacky but... I like it. Gave me something to look at the other time you wore it, remember that? Was it New Years? Took you to an empty room right before countdown, lifted your skirt and—"

"S t o p, we're not doing that, not now," though you smiled, remembering the moment quite clearly, feeling your skin flush especially as he laughed then. He had such a nice, deep, warm laugh sometimes. "...okay, so, yes, I'm wearing that dress... It's not the same, though, like, aside from that choker you love so much, it's pretty tame in comparison..."

"Mm, not for me. I love that color on you. I love anything on you if it means I can take it off of you. And—a cardigan's tame. A long coat is tame."

"The hell a long coat is tame, that's... Anyway, you wear the slutty professor really well and it's not fair. Especially if you're going to to do tomorrow. After being away from you a week... That's cruel, baby. I won't even be able to touch you until the con's over." You heard him hum, probably thinking the very same. A thought comes, making you chuckle suddenly, "I should retaliate."

"...oh god," he let out, clearly recognizing when a wicked thought comes to mind. "Pray tell, how?"

"Why... Professor..."

"....Oh, fuck."

"Yup. By dressing up as one of your favorite students, of course."

"....jesus fucking christ." You heard a small groan, "God, you would, wouldn't you? I don't know if I could take that. It's been a week, body going in withdrawal without you and the sight of you with knee high socks..."

"Hmm. Telling that the knee high is the first thing you go to. Noted."

He chuckled, "Yes, well... The thought of you in knee highs is rather... I wouldn't take them off. Not the entire time."

Your smile widened, biting your bottom lip. "Yeah? Mmm. Well, good, because I'd definitely wear your favorite colors, just for you, Professor."

"Fuck off," he said softly, though, and when you laughed, you heard him let out a breath. "Shit. I can't shake the image, now. My favorite student, dressed so pretty for me. Looking nice and soft...with uh..." He exhaled, "Burgundy knee highs, snug and soft..."

You kept a careful eye around you, trying so hard to suppress your smile. But the sound of his voice was so...alluring, finding yourself squeezing your thighs a little bit. "Keeping up with the color theme, I see..."

"It is my favorite color at the moment, especially on you."

You hummed, "Okay. Question, knee highs or thigh highs?"

"No," his voice instant, "Gotta be the knee highs. I'd want... I'd want your thighs absolutely bare. For my fingers to run and roam over the skin... And...then, y'know... I wouldn't be able to resist to kiss you there as well. Gentle ones of course, but, being away from you this time...wouldn't be long until I start biting..."

A breathless laugh escapes you, now not even caring if anyone looked or listened in on you. It had been a while since you talked to him in real time, without having to push play, it was too good to cut away from. "For someone that says they can't write for the life of them, you're not doing too bad, Professor. You might give a run for my money if you ever decide to go into the erotica business."

"Mmm, tempting, but no. I'll leave that to you. It'd just be a novel of me fucking you and I'd rather have the real thing. But... Was I good enough to get you wet for me, darling?"

It shouldn't make you blush, you built your whole career in literary dirty talk and seducing your readers with your words... But when Joseph did it, his words and voice always struck you deep. Much deeper than any other partner had, which was slightly scary and mainly thrilling. You felt the heat creeping up your neck, a soft giggle being awarded to him. "....you know you are." You heard a pleased sigh from him, taking in a deep breath as you try to calm yourself. That no, sneaking off wasn't an option, that the growing ache between your legs would have to wait, even if you wouldn't have him talk you through it, guide you toward climax in the only way he could. But. "You got me wet and feeling it now every time I walk around in my pretty burgundy dress in a room filled with people."

"Well... I'm alone in my lonely room with a very bothersome hard on and... Probably feel lonelier still when we say our goodbyes and I'll only have my hand and thoughts of you in your pretty burgundy dress, wet, wishing I can feel just how wet you are."

You let out a breath, closing your eyes a moment. "...and I'd wish it was my hand, my mouth, on that...bothersome hard cock," you heard him groan, making your heart flutter, as well as your cunt. "Like I've been fantasizing this past week."

He took a deep breath, you could hear the exhale produce static on your end, a soft hum. "Same here, love. Suppose we'll be doing the same thing tonight..."

With a dejected sigh, you have an affirming hum, "Our ten minutes are about done. Otherwise I'd sneak to a room somewhere and..." You chuckled, "Tell you in excruciating detail the things I'd do to you to make you curse." His laugh comes out at that, making your smile spread further on your face. "But. I am due on stage to introduce my best friend's boyfriend and his band, so... She'd kill me if I missed that, and then would go and kill you, and no one wants that."

"No, no, we do not. That's fine. More to release when I see you tomorrow. Probably keep you to myself for the rest of the week, fair warning, darling."

"Yes, Professor. I'm very okay with that."

The way he groaned at that made your heart flutter again, as well between your legs. You did miss him, terribly, your fingers and toys did little to satisfy you, not without his warmth, his kiss, the moans you'd swallow and hunger for more. "...keep that up and I won't want you to call me anything else."

"Is it bad I kinda like it? P r o f e s s o r?"

He gave a helpless laugh, "Shit, it is. It's very bad of you. Naughty, even. Wicked. My poor coc—"

"Tomorrow, only until tomorrow. And then I'll make it up to you, in any way you want me to. I'll call you professor if you want me to."

"I knew there was a reason you're my favorite student..." You smiled and you could feel he was smiling too. "Okay. I'm going to give you back to your best friend, again. Thank her for me, for letting me have you to myself for this long."

"I will, she'll expecting nothing less. Think of me?"

He chuckled, and you could picture him shaking his head. "When am I not? Especially right now, left to my own devices... Until I have you to myself again." You heard him take a sharp intake of breath, "Have fun, yeah? I love you."

You felt like a teenager again, at the sound of those three words, said recently, right before you left. A slip of the tongue, but meant with sincerity from you both. "I love you, too. I'll see you... Bye."

"Bye, darling. I can't wait."

There was a heaviness that weighed on you as you ended the call, knowing it had to be you, otherwise you wouldn't end it at all. The warmth of his voice lingered, the image of his face imprinted on your brain, curling your fingers around your phone. A thought hitting you like lightning, going to messages and tapping quickly.

Send me a voice note. I wanna hear you.

He liked it.

Your smile widening as you turned around, dumping your phone into your purse and with your heels, made it toward the small stage where the band were setting up. Hands went to Jen's shoulders, hugging her from behind. "I'm all yours, now. He said thank you for letting him have me for the call."

She scoffed with a roll of her eyes, "Gross, you guys are gross."

"Shut up, we're cute." Jen seeming unconvinced. "Whatever, I'm happy."

Your best friend gave a shrug, "Then that's okay." You pulled away and stood beside her, and she took a breath. "He does seem to make you happy and... I don't hate that. Just the whole...secret relationship thing gives me pause." Crossing her arms, she looked to you, raising her brow. "Be honest.... You really okay with it? Because if you are, I'll back off and be one hundred percent for you guys. Because he is nice and seems crazy about you and I haven't seen you this happy in a while... I just don't want you hurt, y'know? I'm not being a bitch—"

"You're never a bitch—" you interjected, pausing as you two looked at each other, and you smirked. "Okay, well, yeah, you are, but for good reasons. A boss bitch, through and through." You paused a bit, giving a shrug of your shoulders. "I dunno. We talked about it... I kinda get it, he kinda blew up overnight and doing...so many things and I... I can't even imagine. I got booktok and like... Well, this book tour, but, obviously nothing on his level. He seems more concerned about if it came out, he'd overshadow my book and the press for it." Which you did appreciate, you worked hard, but part of the reason you got the book done as fast as you did was his encouragement. Being the first to read your pages, his excitement over the story you crafted holding a huge part. "It would have been nice to dedicate the book to him, but, since we aren't....out, didn't really feel right."

"Mmhm..."

"But. I don't know, at first it was kind of fun, sneaking around, dodging photographers, you know. Secret affair type of thing except not being horrible with spouses to cheat on, that kind of thing? And we were casual at first, seeing other people, until... We weren't and...not casual anymore. I mean, it's kind of still fun but also...not."

Taking a deep breath, she sighed. "And how long until it's not kind of fun for you?"

Looking over at her, you frowned, hating that she had a point. "I don't know. I'm not there yet... And I'm hoping it doesn't come to that because... I'm really fucking happy with him." Raising your brow, you give her a reassuring smile. "I'll be careful. And if I'm not, you can kick my ass about it."

"Deal," she agreed to, seeming a little lighter about the situation. "So, is he still going to dress all Mr. Darcy as a Professor when you see him?"

"I swear, he's a walking Jane Austen leading man, like it's just straight up Professor without him even trying." She laughed, you joining in. "It's gotta be a British thing, it has to." Laughing a bit harder, "I teased him with an idea, though, dressing up like a student."

"Oh? Oh, that'd be perfect. Are you meeting him after that con or...?"

A sly smile comes across your face, then, looking at her with a slight chuckle. "Mmm... Don't laugh, but... I actually planned on surprising him at the con?" Your smile widened as she gasped, looking at you agape. "I bought a photo and autograph with him. I knew there'd be no chance on the day of and I thought it'd be cute, you know? He doesn't know."

"Oh, God, I hate to say it, but that's fucking adorable! And kinda genius." Her eyes widened, "You know, though... I mean... The set up's too perfect, you have to dress all slutty student."

"Hey, slutty is for Halloween, I'd be dressed as his favorite student, with knee highs, he seemed very into that."

If her eyes could widen even further, Jen's would, letting out a bark of a laugh. "Oh my god, knee—no, no," shaking her head. "You are doing this. You are gonna do this. Listen...we're gonna make this happen."

"We don't have time, I'm getting the red eye, remember? And by the time this is over—"

But she was determined, shaking her head, "Nope, look. You're gonna introduce the band, because you are my amazing writer friend and words are your thing. We'll stay for a few songs, and then I'm going to take you shopping, okay? I'm making this happen, I'm gonna make this happen for you."

"I thought he gave you pause and you're gonna work this hard to make a fantasy come true for him?"

She wagged her finger from side to side, "Oh, no, no. Not for him, for you. Look, he seems great and he probably is, and maybe there will be a time where he's like a brother to me, but right now? I believe you when you say he makes you happy and that you're happy with him, I see it, so, I'm doing this for you. Because you are my best friend and that's love, bitch."

"I love you. Like... You'll always be my first love, in a totally platonic kind of way. Only because of the fact that you're annoyingly straight."

Jen sighed, "I know, it's a pain, but, we'll always have each other's backs and our hearts, before anyone else." Her gaze going toward the stage, her musician boyfriend giving her a nod, releasing a soft smile. "We didn't do so bad, though. You're up. Make me proud of my boyfriend, okay?"

"Oh, yeah, how do you want me to go about it? Soft and emotional, very serious or...roast him but from the heart?" You both looked at each other for a moment, the answer quite clear.

"Roast him."

for your consideration....

[pommpuriinn]

flowersㅤ#⃞͏✿ㅤᕱ⑅ᕱ 2024 DREAM WEEK ‘OUR HOUSE’

✩°｡⋆⸜synopsis✩°｡⋆⸜ it’s the 5th anniversary of tomorrow x together and it’s time to reminisce on past memories with the group. 

outfit | hair | makeup | nails

୭ৎ “they brought so much snacks, I love it.” The set was a cozy one with lots of snacks for the members to enjoy while recalling memories of each other throughout the five years they became a team. “Before we party should our co leader do a congratulatory speech?” Kai wanted to tease Joohyung. “Shouldn’t it be our leader Huening?” Joohyung gave him a playful side eye.

୭ৎ before they fully start the door bell rang meaning they received a package, and it was a black board with the purpose of creating new rules for 2024. “Jooie wrote a good one!” Yeonjun looked at the staff with big eyes. “Ok, I wrote rule #4 paid vacations.” The whole group cheered making the their staff laugh. “We all work hard even our staff so why not. We all deserve it.”

୭ৎ “do guys remember our first win on the music show?” Kai asked. Everyone immediately recall that important moment. “I got really emotional backstage after we won because at that time I had lots of doubts, not for the group but for myself.” Joohyung remembered those feelings clear as day. She felt like she didn’t fit in with the group’s imagine and even wanted to pull out, but after the members helping her overcome that obstacle those doubts washed away.

୭ৎ Joohyung gasped at the pre debut photos taken in 2018, “we were such babies back then.” Joohyung looked at how skinny they were with baby fat on their cheeks and no muscle.

୭ৎ seeing their media showcase photos and all of them doing the crown pose made Joohyung ‘awe’. “We were so nervous. I even remember noona hiding her hands because they were shaking.” Kai chuckled at the memory. “It was the first time so many eyes were on us. I couldn’t help it.”

୭ৎ next were the M countdown debut stage and it’s where Yeonjun and Soobin were crying after the group was done recording. “Look you can see me clenching my fist cause I didn’t want to start crying too.” Joohyung laugh at her younger self. 

୭ৎ “wango tango was the worse for me because I kept on overthinking everything and I was scared that no one was going to cheer for us because we were so new to everything.” Joohyung sighed. “We basically had to force feed noona because she was so nervous she couldn’t eat.” Taehyun added.

୭ৎ “the floor move for ‘can’t you see me’ hurted my head because when I slide up I would basically yank my head back since I was laying in my hair.” The hair stylist at the time didn’t want to put Joohyung’s hair up because it “didn’t fit the concept” that day.

୭ৎ next was ‘0x1 love song’ era which was definitely Joohyung’s favorite era still. “I remembered I was so happy that day.” Beomgyu shared. “Why?” Yeonjun turned to look at him. “Because I-oh can I say this?” Beomgyu was having second thoughts. “Tell me first.” Joohyung cupped her ear. “It’s when I asked you to be mine girlfriend.” Beomgyu whispered into Joohyung’s ear. He pulled away blushing and have his :> smile. Joohyung tried not to blushed and proceeded to nod, “you can say it.” Beomgyu turned to the camera, “I asked Joohyung-ah to be mine girlfriend.” All the members gasped. “Woah, romance.” Yeonjun shook his head and clapped happily for the couple.

୭ৎ after looking through group photos of their time together, they decided to reveal unseen photos in their gallery. “I personally don’t have any funny ones because my members are the ones to take them. Like this one-“ Joohyung shows a picture Yeonjun took while she was sleeping. “And this one is from Taehyun-ie.” it’s another sleeping photo. “I was really stressed this day.” Joohyung chuckled, as she showed the group who bursted out laughing. “Ya, were you yelling?” Yeonjun tried catching his breath. “I honestly don’t remembered.” Joohyung laughed. “Noona you always look so cute when you’re sleeping.” Kai complimented. “She always curls up in a ball.” Soobin tried to show the cameras how Joohyung sleeps.

୭ৎ the staff collects all the letters moas wrote for txt, so they could read all their encouraging words and how with txt music and their love for moas they feel less stress and burden on them. “Noona’s turn~” Beomgyu finished his letter. Joohyung hated being emotional and with these letters it wasn’t helping her case. “Wow! It’s already been 5 years with tubatu~ I have been supporting you guys since the beginning. I have seen all of you grow and become such talented artists that moas are proud of. You really bring joy into my life and without you my life would have been so dull, so I’m so grateful that we cross paths. Us moas will always stay by your side and continue with flowery path. Fighting~” Joohyung made sure to read in a stable voice, as her emotions were getting the best of.

୭ৎ the best surprise did it for Joohyung because it was letters from their parents. Speaking of parents it’s a very touchy subject to Joohyung because she was basically disowned from her parents when she decided to travel to Seoul and start her path to becoming an idol. Her grandma was her mom, but with her passing back in 2020 she had no one expect for her members. But during their last tour Joohyung’s aunt from her mother’s side surprised her by attending the LA concert. Ever since then they have kept in close touch.

୭ৎ after listening to Soobin and Beomgyu’s letter it was her turn to read. “Um, can we leave me for last?” Joohyung wasn’t really ready to open her letter yet. All the members agreed and Yeonjun rubbed her back for support. Yeonjun got a bit teary eyed reading his causing Joohyung to start wiping her eyes, but what she done it was seeing her baby Kai cry reading his mother’s letter. Joohyung crawled behind him and gave him a back hug. Kai cling on to Joohyung’s hand, as he kept on reading shaking with heavy emotions.

୭ৎ “do you want me to read it?” Yeonjun offered to Joohyung. He saw how nervous she was getting looking at the envelope. “It’s ok. I can do it, but hold my hand.” She giggled nervously. Beomgyu also laid his head on her shoulder trying to comfort her. Joohyung opened the envelope to find a cute decorated letter with cute stickers. “Who is it from?” Soobin asked, leaning over to see. “It’s my aunt.” Joohyung immediately took notice the hand writing. “To my beautiful talented niece, I wish was there to see you from the beginning. I could’ve been there during your hardest times and make sure to tell you not to worry and that everything was going to work out. I wish I was there to give you strength when not a lot of people gave it to you. In a way I was always on the side lines supporting you with hearing all the great stories from grandma.” Joohyung voice cracked. “She so proud of you Jooie-ah~ I’m so glad she rised someone so perfect like you.” Joohyung started quietly crying and hiding her face with the paper. “Aw, Jooie.” Beomgyu slowly pushed Joohyung towards him, hugging her. “Can you finish it?” She mumbled and held the letter towards Yeonjun. “Of course.” He patted her head and continued. “I’m also grateful that you have the members you do. They take such good care of you and treat you with so much care. It warms my heart knowing that you are being taken care of. With much love, auntie.” Yeonjun finished while wiping his eyes again.

୭ৎ “why does she always make me cry.” Joohyung mumbled with a pout on his lips, still hiding in Beomgyu’s arms laying on him. The members laugh at Joohyung’s cute whines. “Even though noona always says we’re her babies, I think noona is honestly our baby.” Taehyun laughed.

୭ৎ “I truly hope tomorrow x together stay together forever.” Joohyung finally sat back up. “And I hope moas will always side by our sides through everything. Thank you to my aunt for supporting me along with my members who I love dearly, and yeah.” Joohyung finished her mini speech. “I think it’s time to wrap up.” Beomgyu smiled. “Yes it is, thank you again for the gifts and this have been tomorrow x together bye~”

[ericshoney]

Out of love~ Hwang Hyunjin

Yandere AU 

Warnings: shouting, violence, delusional! Hyunjin, crazy!Hyunjin, knives, blood, carving into skin, manipulation, dark themes!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I did this out of love! I'm doing this out of love!"

Those was the words he shouted.

You was pinned against the bedroom wall, blood covering you clothes, your body weak and shaking under his towering frame. He seemed much taller with you being so scared.

How did you get here, you ask? Let's take a step back and remember.....

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You was sat in your bedroom, the one you share with your boyfriend Hyunjin. When you first got together, he was shy, quiet and gentle, kind and happy. However, the past few weeks you noticed a change in him. How he got more angry quickly, didn't really hang out with his friends as much, got upset with you mentioned them. 

You tried to ignore it the best you could, thinking it was just work stressing him out or he'd had a fight with his friends, you tried to support him without angering him. But when Hyunjin came home from work, throwing his bag down, swearing and looking angry. You knew you had to talk to him, see if you could help.

"Babe, come sit down, talk to me." You said as he came into the bedroom.

"Work is shit." He said bluntly, placing his jacket on the chair.

"Okay, what about a guy's night with others?" You suggest.

"Will you fucking stop talking about them! If you want to get into their beds all you had to do was say!" He shouts, throwing his hands up.

"H-Hey I'm not like that...I was just asking." You reply carefully.

"Your not? Your always asking about them!" He growls.

You stand up carefully, walking over to your boyfriend, you place your hand on his shoulder gently.

"I'm your girlfriend. I'm worried about you." You said gently.

"Do you love me?" He asks quietly.

"Of course, if I didn't, I would have left by now." You answer.

Hyunjin falls quiet, which scared you slightly. He then began laughing, not a happy, joyful laugh. A dark, menacing one. You remove your hand, taking a step back from the male. You watch as he turns around, a smirk on his face. You take a sharp breath, as you notice the shiny, large knife in his hand.

"B-Babe, put the knife down." You stutter, trying to stay calm.

"Babe, oh babe. Cut it out." He chuckles, stepping closer to you.

"You know, the guys are always asking about you at work. Behind my back. Yes, how they would love to kiss you, touch your body, much, much more. But your mine! You said you love me!" He adds on.

"I-I didn't know! The others are just friendly!" You shout in defence. Mistake one.

Hyunjin grabs your arm, slicing the knife right across the middle. You scream in pain as he does the same to the opposite arm.

"I see how you look at them! When you laugh! Touching their shoulders and arm! Especially Chan's! Well baby, you don't have to worry about him ever again~" He said, pulling out his phone.

Through teary eyes, you looked at his screen, the image making your stomach churn. A photo of Chan's cut up body, laying lifeless.

"How could you do that!" Your scream. Mistake two.

Hyunjin pushes you up against the wall, running the knife down your cheek, to make a ever so small cut, it bleeds, making him smile darkly.

"I killed all of them~" He whispers menacingly.

You felt your body run cold, his words going to your bones. Your eyes full of tears, body shaking under his gaze.

"How could you?" You bravely ask, looking up at him. His once warm, brown eyes, a now cold, darker shade. No sparkle, just black orbs.

"I did this out of love! I'm doing this out of love!" He shouts.

Your weak body, covered in blood, your body shaking in fear. This isn't the man you fell in love with. You close your eyes, hoping it was all a sick, twisted dream. But as you hear his chuckles and the coldness of the knife, you realise it wasn't a sick dream, it was a sick reality.

You opened your eyes, tears running down your cheeks, as you look at the crazy male. His hand rests on your throat, putting slight pressure on the sensitive area. You gasp, holding onto his arm as his grip tightens. You start seeing stars, your head going fuzzy, body getting tired, eyes drooping. The smirk proud on his face, being the last thing you see for the night.

Hyunjin places your passed out body in the bed, not caring if there was blood on the sheets. He runs in his hand over your cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out your face. You was his sleeping beauty, you was his to tease, hurt and love forever and ever, you wouldn't ever leave him, even if you tried.

[aurorafables]

From the Grey, Chapter 12.

Hello there! Now it didn't take that long :)

I looked up at her and shook my head helplessly.  “I've never been interested in a guy.” “Except him.” “Except him. But I don't even know when it started."

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Nicholas Ruffilo

Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Angst, Past character death, Suicidal thoughts

Tags: M/M, M/F, Slow burn, Childhood friends, Friends to lovers, Family drama, Band fic, Masturbation, Accidental Voyeurism, P in v sex

Word Count: 3.9k

Cross-posted: AO3

12.

“I don't want you to go back on tour in January.” Danni hugged me so tightly that I could barely breathe.

The past few weeks have been too good. It's like we're still kids. For sure, the best thing I did during the break was to help Danielle move into a new apartment. I've had too much crap in the past period, and assembling IKEA furniture late into the night, flipping through our old photo albums, snuggling, and eating ice cream have all been good for me. We installed a shelf on the wall, on which family photos will be displayed.

“Chris will come over to help at any time, you just have to ask him.” I smoothed a strand of hair from his face while looking into a pair of greenish-gray eyes that were very similar to mine.

“Chris already has a fiancee. I can't ask him to sleep here and watch movies until night while we eat popcorn or ice cream,” Danni answered sadly. “And anyway... you were always my favorite brother, but don't tell anyone” she stuffed a handful of gummy bears into her mouth.

“I won't,” I answered laughing. I turned back to the wall and drilled the last hole we needed.

“And… What is it like without Maya?” she asked unexpectedly when I put the drill down. I turned to her, and it must have been written on my face that I was surprised by the sudden change of subject. She raised her hand defensively and I got the chance to steal a piece of gummy from her. “When you came home, you asked me to come back to this subject later. It's been two months, so…”

I lifted the shelf and adjusted it in the right place.

“Would you hold it while I screw it in?”

Danni took over the shelf from me and I got to work.

“In the first few weeks, it was strange that I didn't have a girlfriend. But I'm pretty used to it now.”

“So, in the past weeks, you didn't even miss Maya, but a random girlfriend.” Danielle remarked.

“I want to be honest with you. But that doesn't make me feel any less shitty,” I answered bitterly. “A huge stone fell from my heart when it turned out that she was not pregnant.”

“This is completely normal, you were not meant for each other. By the way, you said last time that you sometimes called each other since then. I just want you to remember that she scammed you with this child thing.”

I screwed in the third screw, thinking about Danni's words as I did so.

“You couldn't know what was going on until you did the test.”

Danielle snorted.

“Of course, she also accidentally forgot to take the medicine for weeks. Nick, let's be honest with each other… Maya tried to trick you with the age-old "I'm pregnant with your child" thing when she sensed that things were starting to go wrong between you two. There is nothing to beautify this.”

I might have pulled the shelf a little harder to see if it would hold. Then I started packing up the tools. 

“Maya almost kissed Noah before she got together with me,” I blurted out. “After the breakup, Jolly told me that,  when he was not completely sober. Of course, Noah didn't say a word about it for months,” I couldn't hide the disappointment in my voice if I wanted to. I turned to my sister. “I have nice friends, I can say.”

Danielle took a deep breath.

“I felt that there was something wrong with that girl” she shook her head angrily. “But I forbid you to fight with your friends because of it. It's not worth it, you hear what I'm saying?” she squeezed my arm tightly.

“Calm down, Danni, I can fix these things myself,” I took her hand and smiled a little. “I needed some distance from the others. I needed time with you.”

Really, it was a huge step forward that I didn't have to worry every day, every hour about how I really feel about Noah. Danielle distracted me, we did programs together or just enjoyed each other's company. Of course, then came the evening and the minutes before falling asleep, when my brain just couldn't turn off and started projecting memories with my best friend. A wonderful smile, a lingering touch, his closeness, his smell... And the control of my fantasies sometimes slipped out of my hands. I felt a little ashamed again when I remembered what I had done one night when Danni had gone out to have fun with her friends and I was alone in the apartment. 

Noah initiated the group call because there were some topics we needed to chew on as we prepared for our European tour earlier this year. The whole conversation promised to be dead boring, so I prepared myself a large mug of coffee in advance, settled myself comfortably on the sofa, and if necessary, I also added my thoughts to the given topic. Organization and measures were not my world, I was just waiting to play with the guys on stage again. For a while, everything went as usual: Noah said things and waited for our opinion. Or he just brought up something that he needed to make a decision about and was waiting for our help. We were talking about renting stage lights and Jolly was speaking when something interrupted the discussion.

“Ahh, shit! Fuck!” Noah moaned, and my arm got goosebumps from his voice. “Jesse, I swear I'll kill you when I'm done here!” he added a few seconds later. “Jesse decided to shoot me in the back of the head with a water pistol while we were talking,” he explained to us, but it was clear in his voice that he was not so angry and was already half smiling.

From then on, all day long I could think of nothing but that sweet, high voice. Maybe the two beers I had that night contributed to the fact that I didn't even try not to think about Noah in the shower as I ran my palm over my stomach and purposefully moved lower and lower. I could recall his voice from the shower as I unsuspectingly opened the bathroom door at the lake house and paired it with the moans on the phone, which was more than enough to make my cock hard before I even touched it. I let out a tortured laugh and turned my face to the ceiling, shaking my head as the water ran through my hair, patting the wet curls against my back. This is all unbelievable. It's like I'm a teenage boy who needs only a tiny little spark to ignite. I bit my lip and carefully wrapped my fingers around my cock because I was starting to feel like I didn't know exactly how my body was going to react when it came to Noah. I didn't want to end like in the house by the lake, lying on the wooden floor, not knowing about my world. I let my imagination run wild and at the end, when I said his name, I realized that it was perfect that way. Noah - it's all a sweet sigh that slipped out of my mouth with infinite ease during orgasm.

“Noah!” I woke up to my own desperate voice and reached frantically to the other side of the bed to feel the cold mattress. When I realized it was all just a silly dream, I sat in the middle of the bed panting, my heart beating painfully.

The knock startled me and I buried my face in my hands as I realized that I had probably woken up my sister. 

“Nick, can I come in?” Danni asked from the other side of the door. I raised my head to answer. Some light was already shining through the blinds, maybe it wasn't that early.

“Yes,” I answered weakly, and I saw how she stuck her disheveled head through the opening of the door.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, blinking at me with sleepy eyes.

“Yes, come in,” I invited again, and she finally entered the room. She stood by the bed, wrapping her arms around herself. I lifted the corner of the blanket a bit and that seemed to be all she needed because she immediately snuggled up next to me and let out a contented sigh as she successfully occupied one of my pillows as well.

I wanted to go outside to smoke, but I changed my mind, because as much as that dream upset me, it was good that I was no longer alone. 

“A bad dream?” She turned her face towards me. I also lay down facing her, pulled the blanket over my shoulders and curled up on my side.

"I had a dream that Noah was kidnapped by some crazy fans," I admitted because I was sure she heard me call out my best friend's name.

Danielle pinched her lips between her fingers, and her lost look made it look like she wanted to say something, but didn't know how to say it. 

“Nick, how long has this been going on?” she asked, getting my heart rate up again.

“What are you thinking?” I asked back and swallowed a big one, but the lump still remained in my throat. 

Danni sighed and closed her eyes tiredly.

“No matter what I think. Why don't you visit him if you miss him? You are no longer with Maya, there is no one to ask permission from.”

And I think that was exactly the problem. The gap closed between the two of us, and I was afraid that there was nothing that could stop me from doing something crazy when Noah and I were together again. Maybe that's why I pushed myself away during the last days of the tour. I was afraid of losing him, just like in my dream, which started with us hugging each other. I couldn't see his face, but I could smell him, feel the heat of his skin, and I'd never felt so safe as I did in that silly dream. Then suddenly more faceless people came and tore us apart.

I thought back to the day Noah decided he didn't want to live with me anymore. That he doesn't want to go to work with me anymore, he doesn't want to fight over which of us takes a shower first, he doesn't want us to sip coffee together on our day off tired, half leaning on the kitchen table, he doesn't want to listen to Contact with me before falling asleep, he doesn't want sleeping in a bed with me where we can snuggle to save on the heating… And he doesn't want to wake up next to me in the morning.

I was just making dinner for the two of us when Noah stepped out of the bathroom with his hair still wet and stood leaning against the counter. As he bent forward, he was almost lost in the black T-shirt he was wearing. I felt that something was bothering him that day, but I also knew that I had to be patient with him, and he would tell me anyway if I needed to know.

“Could you taste it, please?” I asked him, referring to the tomato pasta sauce. When he nodded, I took out a clean spoon and dipped it into the sauce. “It would be tastier with beef, but we didn't have it at home, so…”

"Nick, we need to talk," Noah cut in, and when I looked to the side, I saw that his whole face was gloomy.

“Okay, but first tell me if it will be good like this.” I gave him the spoon, maybe just to kill time. Noah finally tasted the sauce, then shrugged.

“I think it’s delicious… Why are you even asking me? You are much better at cooking.”

“Because the two of us will eat it, and if I guess correctly, you also have taste buds,” I answered and took the spoon from his hand, then turned back to the stove to sprinkle some more spices into the food. Noah just sighed, then sat down at the table and started typing on his phone. Meanwhile, I cooked the pasta, then leaned on the open window frame and lit a cigarette.

“You are in a bad mood all day. Is this what you want to talk about?” I cut in when I felt that if I continued, I would only prolong the suffering of both of us. Noah put his phone down and reached over to my cigarette case to take out a cigarette and light it. He only spoke when he flicked off the first batch of ash.

“I'm moving out at the weekend.”

I laughed at the strange feeling that shot through my chest. Noah looked at me confused with his brown eyes. A pained smile spread across my mouth and my limbs began to shake, probably from shock. But it wasn't as unexpected as it seemed. Noah had been looking at apartments for rent for months, but he hadn't revealed that he had found one for himself. I propped the window frame with my forearm—mainly to keep myself from falling to my knees on the pavement, not to try to look casual—and brushed my hair back from my forehead with the hand holding the cigarette. I didn't care if I set my curls on fire either. I was numb, desperate, and utterly mortified.

“On the weekend? And you're just saying now?” I moaned out my completely meaningless questions. Noah is moving out. Noah will no longer live with me.

“I... it only came out a few days ago, and you worked until the evening all week, then fell into bed dead tired. We didn't have a chance to sit down and discuss.”

I can't watch him sleep anymore. I can't listen to his breathing.

“This is important enough to sit down and discuss at any time. Even at night,” I muttered weakly.

Noah stubbed out his cigarette in exasperation and now it was his turn to run his fingers through his hair as he put his elbows on the table.

“Don't be angry... Until now somehow... I couldn't bring it up.”

I can't take care of him if he needs me… I won't smell him in bed…

“It doesn't matter. The point is that you found a good apartment.”

I also stubbed out my cigarette and stepped away from the window. I trusted that my legs would hold me.

"It's just acceptable," Noah snorted. “But finally something that I can call my own.”

I nodded, my smile finally genuine. I tried to put all my pain in the background, which was triggered by his announcement.

“I'm proud of you. You've worked hard to be able to do this.”

I went to the stove and grabbed the pasta to put on the table. While Noah was picking for himself, I went to the fridge and took out the wine I had received from one of my lovely tattoo guests as a token of his satisfaction. It didn't seem to be the cheap variety, and we'd had it for weeks, just waiting for it to come out on some big occasion. I closed my eyes for a moment and counted to three with the bottle in my hand. I can do it. This is an important moment for Noah, I can't let my selfishness come to the fore. I went back to him and poured some of the wine for us to toast with before dinner.

The night before the move, I woke up to Noah's soft sniffles. I thought he was having a bad dream, but then he snuggled up to me and hugged me like a koala. We were horribly hot and probably neither of us slept a wink, but we still lay huddled together as the first rays of dawn broke through the thick material of the blackout. 

When the band was formed, it gave us another opportunity to spend more time together, even though most of the time the guys were there with us. There was a short period with our first album when the five of us moved into a small apartment, where we pretty much lived on each other's backs with amplifiers, instruments and everything else, and it was obvious that this could not be sustained for long. Eventually, Jolly and Noah decided to move to California, and then we were no longer just a few streets away, but states. 

Just like that morning when I watched Danielle go back to sleep next to me in bed. I reached for my phone. Dad sent a picture of our song playing on the radio in the morning as he went to work. I smiled, wondering what they would say if they found out? What if my family finds out that maybe Noah and I are more than friends? I glanced back at Danni. We never said it, but we've talked about it so much that it's impossible for her not to know what's going on... but the strangest thing is that she wasn't even surprised by it and talked about it quite naturally every time. I decided there was no need to dwell on it. Maybe I'm just misinterpreting the whole thing. But I'm sure I'll have to find out somehow. 

I started looking at airplanes and decided not to wait until Christmas. I bought a ticket for the plane that left two days later, then quietly climbed out of bed and, after a quick shower, went to the kitchen to make ourselves pancakes for breakfast. 

Just Pretend soared and brought attention to the band. Our European tour was sold out weeks before it started, which resulted in many fans not even getting tickets. Since everything was booked well in advance, it was impossible to expand or reorganize the venues. As Danielle and I went for a Saturday afternoon coffee after lunch, two girls first stopped me on the street to take a photo with me, which until now really only happened at concerts and festivals where we performed. It was a strange situation, I was also a little tense, and I began to understand what Noah must be going through as our popularity grows. At the cafe, the waiter asked me which band I play in because he knows me from somewhere. He didn't ask for a picture, but noted that he loved The Death Of Peace Of Mind and wished us the best of luck going forward. And that was just one afternoon in town.

“I think you have to get used to this slowly,” Danni commented with a smile when the waiter went back to place our order.

“I will be forced to,” I answered, glancing towards the window. It was only four in the afternoon, but it was already dusk outside. “You know, this is the part I would leave out,” I looked at her. “But at the same time, it's so nice to see how happy they are with a picture.”

Danielle nodded.

“I'm proud of you, you're doing very well so far,” she tried to encourage. The waiter arrived with the requested coffees. “And now you tell me why you brought me here?”

I laughed, skimming the milk foam from my cappuccino. 

“Why can't I invite my sister for a coffee?”

“We could have made one at home. I have the most professional automatic coffee machine.”

“I wanted to go out,” I snapped at her. “I wanted to come here with you because you've always loved this place and... and I'm leaving tomorrow afternoon.”

Danielle raised her head and tucked a long strand of dark brown hair behind her ear as she grinned like a maniac. 

“You know I love you, but if you don't do it sooner or later, I'll take you to the airport myself and put you on the first flight to Los Angeles.”

“I needed some time to think things over,” I looked at her seriously. “It was especially good that I was away from them.”

Danielle nodded in agreement, then took a sip of her coffee and sighed in satisfaction.

"From him," she corrected. “The coffee is still divine here. And I understand you. Not so long ago you broke up with your girlfriend, with whom you had been together for almost a year, it is quite natural that you needed time. But the delay now seems more like suffering to me.”

“I don't know what he wants,” I muttered to myself while folding the tip of the napkin. “I might come back after a day or two.”

“Of course you don't know, maybe he doesn't either, because he's just as confused as you are. But no,” Danni shook her head, laughing. “I don't know Noah as someone who will put you on the street. And anyway… it would be quite outrageous after sharing your apartment with him for three years.”

“We don't know how things will turn out…”

“Nick, are you listening to me? For as long as I've known Noah, he always has been looking for you with his glance. He looks at you like you're his savior. And let's face it, you kind of were just when he needed a savior the most.”

“Doesn't it bother you?” slipped out of my mouth because I didn't understand.

“What exactly?”

I groaned and with a big sigh leaned closer to my sister over the table so no one could hear us.

“That 's about my best friend. That… that he's a… man,” I whispered through gritted teeth.

“Are you implying that why I didn't freak out that you're bisexual?” Danielle asked back, her big, gray-green eyes boring into mine. I just blinked and looked down at the table. “Because you're still my Nicky. Do you know that?”

I looked up at her and shook my head helplessly. 

“I've never been interested in a guy.”

“Except him.”

“Except him. But I don't even know when it started. Can I show you something?” I asked, driven by a sudden idea. “I need to know if I'm just imagining it.”

When Danielle nodded, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the Polaroid photo I'd been looking at all morning to see if I could decipher it. The picture with Anne, my ex, and a sad Noah in the background who looked just like his heart was broken. I pushed the picture in front of my sister and anxiously waited to see what she thought. 

“Noah hated Anne from the bottom of his heart, and he never told me why. There was a possibility in my mind that he wanted her for himself, but… I just don't think so. My instincts don't tell me that.”

Danielle looked at it thoughtfully for a moment, then slid the picture back in front of me. A half-smile crossed her lips.

“If he feels just a small part of what he felt when the picture was taken, he will never let you go back to Virginia.”

[satansapostle6]

The Man Who Sold The World | Luke Castellan

Spotify Playlist Link

Katherine. She was the one who started it all for Luke Castellan, the reason he did what he did.

Warnings: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen: Nights That Don’t End

In the past few days, Luke hadn’t slept much. Most of his nights were just spent watching Katherine as she slept, making sure she was sleeping peacefully, which didn’t happen often these days, or simply staring up at the cabin ceiling. Even when he slept, Luke either dreamt of things that tormented him in his sleep, or just simply didn’t remember what he dreamt about.

But that night, he actually had a good dream as he slept throughout the entire night, one that he wished would never end.

“Okay, really good, just try that one more time, but even harder,” Luke instructed as he held his sword still in his hand. “Think you can do it?”

“Yeah,” the nine year-old nodded, breathing hard.

“Alright! Show me what you got!” he encouraged him.

Luke made the first move, swinging his sword just in time for the small boy to slash his own at the blade in retaliation, this time hitting back with an improved intensity.

“Good! You’re doing great!” he exclaimed proudly.

“Luke?” the little boy in his dream asked him once they finished training.

“Yeah?”

“How did you get that scar on your face?” the child asked him, purely curious.

“Well,” Luke sighed, trying to put a more positive spin on the traumatic memory, “I went on a quest. To retrieve a Golden Apple from the Garden of Hesperides. It’s from the dragon; Ladon.”

“Did it hurt?” the ADHD-ridden child asked him.

“It didn’t tickle, kid,” Luke sighed.

“Do people think you’re ugly?” the boy blurted out as Luke tried not to laugh.

“Uh… I don’t know,” he admitted. “But my girlfriend doesn’t mind. That’s enough for me.”

“You have a girlfriend?” the boy asked, getting a nod in return. “What do you actually do with a girlfriend?” he asked, as Luke tried his best to maintain his composure.

“No one ever talked to you about this stuff, huh? Or, any stuff?” he quickly realized.

“I’m nine,” the child pointed out.

“Fair enough. Uh… I don’t know. Depends on the person, but for me… My girlfriend’s just like my best friend,” Luke remarked. “We tell each other everything before we tell anyone else, and we always wanna spend time together. And she’s just also really pretty,” he tried to explain.

“And she likes being your girlfriend, even if you have a giant scar on your face?”

Luke nearly snorted with laughter. “Yeah, I guess you could say that… But hopefully, after tonight, she won’t be my girlfriend anymore.”

“You’re breaking up with her?!” the boy cried.

“No, no,” Luke chuckled, “I’m gonna ask her to marry me.”

*****

“Katherine? Will you marry me?” Luke Castellan asked, on one knee with the most beautiful diamond ring in his hand that he could find.

“Yes,” she gasped, “Yes!”

He quickly jumped up to kiss her, ring box still in his hand as he forgot about it for a moment.

*****

The wedding was held in Rome, during the day on the shore of a beach that looked just like paradise. It was a beautiful wedding, with a small guest list of only the most important people in their lives.

The incredibly romantic wedding ceremony and reception was followed by a two-week long honeymoon in Italy, resulting in a new development that came with an ultrasound photo on the refrigerator in their new home.

“Oh, I can’t believe my little boy’s gonna be a father!” May Castellan gushed as she and Katherine sat at the table while Luke prepared dinner. “I just wish we could’ve met sooner! I would’ve wanted to get together before you became my daughter-in-law!”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Katherine sighed, “Luke and I were just always so busy…”

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetheart, I get it,” the woman promised her. “You don’t have to feel bad.”

“So, May, do you have a guess as to whether it’s gonna be a girl or a boy?” Katherine asked.

“I don’t know, what do you think, honey?” Luke’s mother asked curiously.

“I think it’s gonna be a boy,” she explained, “Luke thinks it’s gonna be a girl.”

“I see, are you hoping for anything in particular?”

“I really don’t care, I’m just happy we’re having a baby,” Katherine responded truthfully, smiling at Luke as he cooked. “But, later down the line, we’re hoping to have both…”

“Oh, that would be wonderful! You know, I’ll have to look at you when you’re further along. You can tell by the shape of the bump, whether it’s gonna be a girl or a boy,” May Castellan remarked.

“Oh, wow,” Katherine nodded.

“So, Luke, you think it’s gonna be a girl?” his mother asked him.

“Yeah, that’s my guess,” he nodded, setting plates of food down on the table as he sat beside his new wife, squeezing her hand. “Obviously, I’d be happy with anything, but I really want to have at least one girl…”

“He’d make such a cute girl dad,” Katherine beamed.

“Oh, yes he would!” May agreed. “My Luke… so sweet and gentle. You know when he was little, and I used to try and kill the spiders in the kitchen, he used to pick them up on a newspaper, and stick them outside?”

“Aw, I believe it!” Katherine sighed, affectionately kissing Luke’s cheek as she nuzzled her head into him, listening to the stories.

“You two look so happy,” the older woman gushed, seeming emotional. “Look at you, Luke, so handsome, just like your dad.”

“He is handsome,” Katherine agreed, looking up at him like he was the coolest person in the world.

With Katherine, Luke felt like Brad Pitt.

“I’m so proud of my son. Camp counselor, beautiful wife, beautiful baby on the way.”

Luke smiled softly as he looked down at his wife, and then over at his mother, who was happy and healthy, fully content with everything. He took in their smiling faces, and the beautiful sounds of their gentle laughter, treasuring it forever.

“This isn’t how it happened,” a loud, nightmarish voice violently cut through his good dream.

“What?” Luke looked up.

His blue eyes widened as everything slowly disappeared him, his lovely home, his healthy mother, and his beloved wife. Everything in that idealistic fantasy was stripped away from him until he was left alone in an empty room of darkness.

“This isn’t how it happened, Luke Castellan,” Kronos’s voice shrieked in a pitch that was both far too low and far too high.

Luke began to panic as the invisible room he was in started to make him feel claustrophobic, suffocating and not existing simultaneously.

“You didn’t leave the camp. You didn’t marry the girl. You didn’t save your mother,” the Titan’s voice reminded him. “You didn’t even keep the baby alive.”

“No!”

Luke started to twitch, remembering his unborn child as he flailed about out of instinct.

“Remember who your allegiance is to,” the voice reminded him, returning him to a new, all too familiar memory.

It was one of the earlier dreams Luke had had about Kronos; it was the dream in which he decided he’d join the father of the gods in destroying the world they currently lived in. In the dream, Luke had been showed every single ounce of suffering caused and enabled by his father, Hermes, along with all of the other gods, which basically amounted to just about everything he’d ever witnessed.

In the dream, he’d walked into an empty, almost ceremonial sort room, which was dark and empty, except for Kronos’s golden sarcophagus. Luke had touched a hand to the ancient artifact, in complete awe of the raw power emanating from it as he dropped to his knees subserviently.

“I pledge my eternal allegiance to you, Lord Kronos,” Luke vowed as he was told to. “My mind, body, and soul belong to you. I am your servant.”

“Well done, my boy,” the voice said in a saccharine tone, trying to entice him, “You’ve done well.”

All of a sudden, he looked down at his clenched fist as a beautiful Celestial bronze weapon began to appear in his hand. It was a sword, a glorious weapon he could only describe as befitting a warrior. One side of the sword, it seemed, was made from Celestial bronze, only capable of killing monsters or other mythical beings, while the other edge was steel, capable of unspeakable destruction.

This was the sword Luke had named ���Backbiter’, capable of killing just about any creature in existence. It was one thing for a demigod to brandish any weapon made up of Celestial bronze, as killing monsters was in the job description, but in the demigod world, even just giving oneself the opportunity to kill mortals was an absolute taboo.

The sword, Luke knew, was a true instrument of death. He had received a flawless instrument of death from Kronos in exchange for becoming one.

“Why do you hope to be happy?” Kronos’s voice echoed through his empty head. “Why do you believe that this is possible?”

Luke was completely broken by the question.

“Your loyalty isn’t to yourself. You don’t serve your own happiness, or hers; you serve me,” the Titan said. “Just as I can reward you with happiness for doing as I say, I can take it back. Remember that.”

His eyes opened with a start, and he all but jumped up in bed. Katherine was woken by the sudden movement, looking over at her boyfriend as she slowly sat up, trying to shake off her own exhaustion.

“Another dream, baby?” she asked worriedly.

Luke nodded slowly, not realizing that he had already been crying in his sleep. Overwhelmed by the nightmares, he buried his face in his hands, failing to collect himself.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, rubbing his back as he held his knees up to his chest for comfort. “I’m right here, okay? Just let it out. You’re safe.”

Luke hadn’t felt safe at all in the past several days. Losing the unborn baby he’d only gotten the chance to grow to love in the past three days was the final straw for him, the very last chance he had to have hope for good in the world, or his world, at least. Ever since losing the baby, if it could even really be called that, Luke had clung desperately to Katherine even more so than before.

She was the last good thing he had, but even she had almost been taken from him by Kronos, on multiple occasions. Luke draped himself over her body, laying his head down on her chest as she held him. Her movements were slight but deliberate, as she slowly went from allowing him to sink down onto her lap to gently stroking his hair as he let out small, painful cries.

“You know how much I love you, right?” she asked him sadly.

Unable to stop his weeping or steady his breathing, Luke just nodded, hanging onto her every word as he prioritized her smooth voice over the relentless screaming in his head.

Later that day, once the both of them were feeling up to actually leaving the cabin, they decided to walk the strawberry fields, in a more quiet outing.

“I don’t know if this makes sense, but… I miss the baby,” Katherine said softly. “I know I never gave birth, but… I still had it with me, you know?”

“That makes absolute sense,” Luke promised her, a poignant look in his eyes as he felt exactly what she had meant. “I miss him or her too… I know there’s no point in saying ‘him or her’, but it just makes me feel more connected to it, actually imagining a ‘him’ or a ‘her’.”

“I wanna know what I would’ve had,” she thought after a pause. “Do you?”

“I, uh…” the question triggered a deep longing in Luke. “I wanna think so. But I don’t know if I could handle it,” he confessed guiltily.

Katherine nodded, considering his point of view.

“I wanna know… But, the thought of missing a little girl, or a little boy, as opposed to a little fetus with no identity… It makes it too real,” he forced out, a pained grimace on his face.

“Yeah,” she nodded, feeling the same pain.

“But, don’t we owe it? To what would’ve been our kid?” he asked her.

“Luke,” Katherine stopped, trying to speak as delicately as she could. “I feel the same guilt you do. I do. But, life is also for the living. I don’t want you to feel like you have to grieve a certain way, just because it would’ve been our baby.”

This caused a long, thoughtful pause as she started to wonder whether she’d said the right thing.

“Maybe you’re right. But, I don’t know… I was just really looking to having a kid, and getting to know it,” he stressed. “And I think I still wanna get to know it. Any way I can.”

“I just can’t believe this. I just can’t,” Katherine breathed, “I mean. So many things in my life, in our lives, have gone wrong. We’ve both been through so much fucking shit, it doesn’t even sound real. But, when we found out about this baby, I just…

“I don’t know. Maybe I was just dreaming, but I thought we might actually get the chance to do something right for once. I thought we’d actually get the chance to contribute something genuinely pure, and meaningful, to the world,” she expressed.

“I so wanted to have a baby with you,” Luke sighed, the look in his eyes a gut-wrenching mixture of love and trauma.

“I wanted to have a baby with you too,” Katherine agreed, tears in her eyes. “I didn’t even know that that’s what I wanted, but it happened, and then I wanted it! And then it all got taken away, so fast, and I don’t know what to do!”

He said nothing as he looked at her, the beauty of her features upstaged by sadness.

“I killed our baby, because I don’t have a soul!” she exclaimed, face contorted with disgust at herself. “I killed our baby, but I can’t even fully access however the fuck I feel about it, because I don’t have a soul!”

“Katherine, you didn’t kill the baby,” Luke promised her, taking her face into his hands, “Listen to me. It wasn’t your fault, you did not kill that baby. You loved the baby. So much. I saw it in your eyes every day,” he reminded her.

“I don’t see anything in my eyes!” Katherine sobbed, her voice almost pouty like a child’s. “I look in the mirror, and I don’t recognize the person I see! I look at the memories in my head that are supposedly mine, and they don’t feel like mine! I feel like a—like a decoy someone made! Like people are just meant to look at me and then wonder where the real one is, while the person who this life actually belongs to runs away!” she exclaimed.

Luke’s brows furrowed in sadness for her.

“I really wish you could see what I see every day,” he exhaled, “I wish you could see the way you love me, and the way you loved the baby.”

Katherine looked at Luke for a moment, noticing the way he seemed a thousand times more upset when she expressed her own feelings of sadness or pain, as if his hadn’t actually mattered. She noticed the focus with which he looked at her, as if he were only a camera recording everything she did as some amazing feat, and the sheer love that he had for her when he looked at her.

He loved her so much, more than anything, and without a soul, Katherine was afraid that she couldn’t dream up enough ways to show him that he was everything to her. After all, she was more than willing to have a child with him, despite the current state of the universe, or her own uncertainties toward the idea.

She knew that she’d opened herself up to the opportunity for something truly great, only to have it ripped away. Life, it seemed, was cruel even in comparison to death.

“God, why do we do this to ourselves?” Luke scoffed. “Why do we risk everything serving a Titan who doesn’t care about us anymore than he cares about his own children? Why are we so convinced that his new world order is gonna be so much better than what we have now?” he demanded.

Katherine paused for a moment, recognizing his fragility in that moment.

“I don’t understand why we do this to ourselves,” Luke admitted emptily, momentarily staring at nothing. “I don’t know why we put people above us who treat us like we’re disposable.”

“Because, honey, that’s just how things work,” she concluded. “You and me, we’re just people. We’re demigods, but we’re just people. We’re just not capable of implementing change ourselves; so, we hitch a ride with whoever’s gonna make the changes we want. And rarely will that be someone who doesn’t treat everyone like shit,” she pointed out.

“How is Kronos any better than any of the gods, then?” he demanded out of frustration.

“It’s not about being better,” she responded. “It’s about results. The gods won’t lift a finger for their kids, because Zeus says so. And the only one capable of bringing Zeus down is Kronos.”

Luke didn’t say anything for a moment, knowing she was right. About everything. Like she always was.

*****

“I know this has all been beyond hard on you. And I know I’ve been tired, and hurting, and spacey… But just know, I wanna make it all up to you,” Luke said softly, looking down at Katherine as they stood in one of the showers together.

It was the middle of the day, and no one was around.

“You don’t have anything to make up to me,” she said softly, an apologetic look on her face.

“Come here.”

Katherine turned as Luke gently ran his fingers through her long hair, lathering in the lightly fragrant soap for her. When Luke was tired and didn’t know how to communicate, he would often offer to wash or brush her hair, a very primitive form of affection.

Katherine never refused, always appreciating the way his hands slowly worked through her hair, as he was terrified of snagging it.

“You have the most beautiful hair,” Luke murmured, lightly planting a kiss on the base of her neck. “You’re so beautiful.”

She closed her eyes as she felt his hands still working, washing the last of the soap out of her hair as they traveled down to her shoulders, massaging them with care. She felt beyond safe with him, to the point of feeling like she was on some sort of floating cloud.

Katherine sighed internally as she felt his strong, taut chest pressing against her back. Luke, she had always thought, was built like a god. And she would’ve much rather worshipped him than Zeus, or Hermes, or whoever.

“You know,” Luke murmured as she turned back around to face him. “When I first sensed the baby, like how Chiron said Hermes is actually associated with fertility and stuff like that… I felf so happy,” he expressed.

She nodded silently, understanding the feeling.

“Before I even knew what I was sensing,” he added, sighing wistfully. “I miss that feeling.”

“Me too,” she sighed, as Luke held his hand to her cheek, thumb lightly tracing back and forth as he tried to stop her budding frown from spreading.

-

Chapter Eighteen

[edgessunflower]

Can you do a Bianca Belair request pls

Yeee

Early memories

Pairing: Bianca Belair x Fem reader

Description: You share memories with your father Kevin Nash to your girlfriend

You smile pulling photo albums out with your girlfriend Bianca next to you excited to tell her stories of your life growing up. You were the daughter of Kevin Nash and boy what a life journey being the child of a famous wrestler, you have wonderful memories of watching your dad's matches in the crowd, backstage, and ringside with Scott Hall, Shawn Michaels, or Hulk Hogan who were uncles to you growing up always being with you when your dad was in the ring or training, you smile sweetly seeing the picture of you as a newborn in your dad's arms looking at his tear stricken and happy face "I remember when mom told about me that he was so happy when I was born he broke down as soon as I was in his arms" she giggles looking at pictures of you as a kid. "Oh my god Dom! I need to get these copied so I can give them to him and Aalyah" you smile seeing pictures of you and Dominik Mysterio as kids since Rey and your dad were longtime friends, you, dom, his sister aalyah, and your brother practically grew up like siblings and always spent time together backstage or ringside with Edge, scott, one of your moms, or Eddie always being brought in the ring when the event was off the air and wrestle with each other still being in each other's lives to this day being dom's number one supporter when he debuted and ever since the start of his career, she is in awe of seeing pictures of you not only as a child but teen feeling the unconditional love and real sense of family through the pictures and listening to the stories you tell her. "Hey baby girl what are you up to?" you smile big laughing in joy hugging your dad as bianca watches with a smile holding a picture of you and him when you were 12, you see the picture immediately giggling "This is one of my favorite pictures of us" you show the picture to him making him smile big and kiss your forehead "I remember that day close to my heart, that was one of my favorite days ever" things had been rough for you and your dad during that time, you hadn't seen each other in months both from his schedule and problems between him and your mom that really went down hill after an argument leading her to not let you see him for awhile until one day on the way home from school you called him on a payphone and found out he would be in town later that week and telling your mom whether she wanted you to or not you were going to spend the day with him. You walked down to the corner market after arguing with your mom when she tried to not have you go, you squealed quietly with a smile and cried with joy when you saw him get out of his truck running and jumping in his arms "There's my babygirl! Oh Lord I missed you so much" the two of you ate, went to the park, went to the movies, watched his match at WCW, and had dinner before he dropped you off at home where your mom stood on the door step "Mom I know your mad but if your not gonna let me see dad then i'll just go with him or stay with Grandma" she stops you before you could walk past apologizing to the two of you and after you saw each other every day even just for a few minutes he always made sure to hug you and say he loved you. The rest of the evening is spent of stories being told while looking at pictures followed by having dinner together smiling and melting seeing bianca and your dad talking with each other making you truly love your dad even more and not only fall in love with bianca but want to marry her even more than you did as you all watch tv before he hugs both of you saying his usual "Love you babydoll" before heading home seeing her stare at you "What?" she wraps her arms around you kissing you sweetly "Just can't wait whenever I marry you so I can have another wonderful dad" you smile big and laugh sweetly feeling warmth at the statement.

[crinkled-emotions]

Day 29: Daggers adopting baby aviators

I forgot that I'd already put this on my AO3! (I cbf tagging, that'll be fixed now)

This is only the first chapter of... four I think? I have three finished so far. I'll publish the remainder once I finish days 30 and 31

How crazy is it that it's February- I still don't want to talk about it 😂

I finally did my make up exam this morning and I'm tired as hell considering I didn't get home from work until 11:45 last night but it's done and I feel surprisingly okay about it? I refuse to jinx it though.

-

“Do you think she’s scary?”

“Who?”

“Captain Trace. Phoenix.”

Juliette “Cowgirl” Ryder snorted, doing up the zip on her flight suit before turning to Zoe “Pigtails” Harries.

“She’s not scary; she’s terrifying.”

Pigtails’ eyebrows shot up under her bangs and Cowgirl laughed.

“I heard there’s never a dull moment in hers and Captain Floyd’s class. C’mon, let’s go, I don’t want to be late to Admiral Mitchell’s debrief.”

Cowgirl and Pigtails left the women’s change rooms, bumping into the other members of their TOPGUN class on the way. Benjamin “Shades” Kerner was waiting on the opposite wall to the door; Hudson “Posh” Miller, Cooper “Curse” James, Wesley “Titanium” Torres and Aaron “Soggy” Scott weren’t far behind him.

“Remember; show no fear,” Soggy hissed to the rest of his team as they all grabbed their notebooks and manuals to head into the hangar. Their eyebrows raised when they realised the Daggers were already standing up the front of the classroom, looking as much the elite squad they were.

“I think I just peed a little,” Titanium confessed as he slipped past Cowgirl with a hand on her arm. The moment they were all seated they heard footsteps and faced forward, already nervously sweating. It was TOPGUN; everyone was sweating.

“Good morning, aviators.”

The man, the myth.

The legend.

Admiral Pete “Maverick” Mitchell.

-

“Phoenix, you do realise there are separate changing rooms for a reason right?”

“Nothing I haven’t seen before. Seresin!”

Phoenix dodged Rooster’s arm, catching Hangman by the arm and pinning him to the lockers. For a woman standing at 5’7, she was surprisingly strong. Well, not surprising, considering her career.

“Repeat after me; I know I just came off paternity leave and I’m missing my baby but I will not be an asshole to these kids.”

“I- what? Slow down, I’m sleep deprived.”

Phoenix sent him a look and he groaned.

“Okay, fine. I know I just came off paternity leave and I’m missing my baby and wife but I will not be an asshole. Happy?”

“It’ll do. Now show me the photos!”

The Daggers all gathered around to see the photos of Hangman’s daughter- his first but by far not the first of the Dagger group. It had been eight years since the Dagger mission and it felt like they’d gone through major life changes one after another.

First, they’d all been promoted within three weeks of one another. Then again. And again, until they were all Captains. Next, the baby boom.

Payback and Coyote were already in long term relationships prior to the uranium mission but they’d married and had three kids between them (Payback’s wife had twins) within a year; Coyote and his wife had a beautiful baby boy and Payback had shown off their twin boy and girl with pride. Bob had snuck off to Florida to marry his boyfriend of three years, apparently waiting for him to come home from the mission, and they’d happily adopted a little girl after their 1 year anniversary. They were now talking about surrogacy. Fanboy had met a beautiful woman one night at the Hard Deck and they’d stayed together long enough to have their son, but it hadn’t worked out for a multitude of reasons. They were now great friends and had the poster for good co-parenting. Rooster, to everyone’s surprise, had a long term girlfriend back in Virginia Beach and she’d flown out to be with him in San Diego. They tried to start a family for almost two years without any luck, going through a couple of miscarriages, before they finally had their eldest son. He’d taken it hard but respected it when they started talking about not having another baby, only to find out his wife was pregnant when their baby wasn’t even three months old. Their daughter was born the month before their son turned 1 and the Daggers never let him forget it. Hangman was probably still laughing about it somewhere.

Even Phoenix took a breath and let herself find happiness. She cried for three days straight when she found out she was pregnant but Maverick had been quick to reassure her that her job would be waiting for her when she was ready to come back to work. She had her second baby- another boy to Rooster’s amusement- the previous summer.

Hangman had taken the six weeks paternity leave then a little extra when he saw the way his wife was struggling with recovering and caring for their new baby. It wasn’t her fault at all, it had been revealed she was suffering from severe anxiety prior to the birth and it had only worsened afterward. The last thing he wanted to do was stress her out more and he didn’t even have to beg Maverick who signed the paperwork for more time off without question.

“Daggers, let’s get a move on!” Maverick called into the change room and they all exchanged a look, scrambling to grab their helmets and go.

“Hey, Tasha, before I forget... thanks for coming by and helpin’ out, we both really appreciated it.”

Phoenix bumped Hangman’s waist.

“Yeah. You got it.”

-

The younger aviators were already seated when the Daggers walked up to the podium between the seats. They stood to either side of the lectern, leaving Maverick to do the introductions. Nervous energy was electric in the air, and Bob leaned over to whisper to Phoenix.

“Wonder if Mav’s gonna toss the manual again.”

“God I hope not, they’re expensive as fuck,” Phoenix replied. They shared a smile then returned to standing to attention when they heard those familiar footsteps. The younger team members stood as well, backs straight and hands by their sides. Maverick appeared, walking up the aisle himself to settle in front of the lectern.

“Good morning, aviators. My name is Admiral Pete Mitchell, callsign Maverick.”

“Mav,” Rooster prompted between his teeth.

“Thank you, Rooster. I’m also the Air Boss for this Naval Base, so everyone here reports to myself and your designated Captains. From left to right we have Captain Trace, callsign Phoenix. Captain Floyd, callsign Bob. Captain Fitch, callsign Payback and Captain Garcia, callsign Fanboy. Captain Machado, callsign Coyote, and Captain Seresin, callsign Hangman. Lastly Captain Bradshaw, callsign Rooster. Welcome to TOPGUN.”

The Daggers watched the reactions in the room and internally smirked to themselves. They’d worked hard to be here, they deserved to be a little cocky.

“First thing’s first; I assume you’re all familiar with the jet manual?”

“Yes sir,” echoed around the room and Maverick hummed, holding up the manual. Phoenix internally grimaced.

The manual went into the bin.

“Forget it. My version of TOPGUN means we’re going to use our brains and we’re going to test the limits of our aircraft; but we’re going to make sure we’re doing it in a way that means we’re not risking ourselves in the process.”

It may have been thirty-six years since his dad died but Rooster still dropped his gaze to his boots for a split second. Hangman bumped his shoulder and Rooster nodded at him, attention back on Maverick’s speech. The others would probably check on him later.

“Alright, team; gear up and get out there. You’ll be doing a hop with two Captains; three if it’s a two-seater. Keep your eyes open and don’t look down. Dismissed.”

The TOPGUN students scrambled out the door and Maverick glanced around the Daggers.

“Scared ‘em, right?”

“Ah c’mon, Mav,” Rooster said, “be nice. Ground crew hates cleaning out puke, you do know that right?”

“Thanks, Bradley,” Maverick deadpanned. The team all fell in behind him as he made an exit out of the classroom.

-

A few days passed and the Daggers had taken every opportunity to wipe the floor with the new kids; there had been plenty of panicked sounds and pushups. So many pushups.

“Hey, Shades, wait up!”

Shades whipped around, finding Rooster jogging up to him. He paused mid-step, waiting for the older man to catch up.

“I wanted to ask; have we met?”

“I’m not sure, sir. Have you served in Oceania or Milwaukee?”

Rooster’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, no, but I was actually referring to- uh.”

“Uh?”

“Ron Kerner... any relation?”

Shades’ face softened and he lifted his sunglasses from his eyes to prop them on top of his head.

“My grandfather on my mom’s side; kinda saved her ass and then mine too. Why?”

“Huh. Uh, your grandfather was one of my dad’s best friends. Crazy- hey, your mom’s Maya right? How’s she doing?”

Benjamin shrugged.

“Fine, I think. We don’t talk all that often, I don’t think she loves the idea of me being here.”

“My mom didn’t either.”

It just fell out of Rooster’s mouth, the fact he’d wrangled out of Maverick after the mission under the premise of tears and begging to know the truth. Benjamin frowned.

“Oh, no, we’re just... it’s personal.”

“I get that.”

A pregnant pause. Finally, Rooster cleared his throat.

“Thanks for clearing that up. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes sir.”

Shades returned to walking down the hallway whilst Rooster reached for his phone and flicked through his contacts.

“Hey Mav. No, I’m fine- can you meet me in your office? I need to have a look at Shades’ file. No- yeah, Benjamin. Kerner? Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

-

“Captain Trace?”

Phoenix glanced up at the call of her name, smiling at the younger women standing by the door.

“Hey guys; how’s it going? Please, Phoenix is fine.”

Cowgirl and Pigtails hesitantly stepped into the room and Phoenix finished fixing her boot, standing in front of them.

“Everything okay?”

“How do you do it?” Pigtails blurted, “be a kickass naval aviator, keep up with the boys’ club and be a mom?”

Phoenix blinked. Snorted.

“Well, uh, I don’t always. I have a great husband and we talk openly, and the guys here aren’t so bad. Don’t worry about Captain Seresin, he’s gone soft in his old age.”

“Isn’t he only 38?”

“Good answer, we’re the same age. What can I do for you two?”

“Nothing, we just- uh. You’re kind of a legend at the academy, Phoenix... it’s surreal to be learning from someone like you and we’re really grateful for this opportunity.”

Phoenix smiled.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you to say.”

As she headed for the exit Pigtails and Cowgirl followed like lost puppies, finally taking the opportunity to confirm some gossip.

“Phoenix, we were wondering if you knew how Captain Bradshaw got his callsign?”

Phoenix snorted.

“I gave it to him.”

They stared. Gobsmacked. Phoenix sighed.

“Okay no, it’s nothing like that... did you guys ever hear about the can opener on Suits?”

Cowgirl and Pigtails exchanged a look, and Phoenix grinned.

“Exactly; no one knows except me and Harvey Specter.”

-

“They’ve been staring for, like, five minutes, man.”

“Were we ever like that?”

“You were worse. For the record.”

Hangman and Coyote jolted apart when Maverick interrupted their gossip session, glaring at the Admiral.

“Maverick, why the sneak attack?” Hangman complained. Maverick grinned, gesturing toward Posh and Curse who were standing off to the side in the dining hall, pretending they weren’t staring at Hangman and Coyote from a distance.

“You could ask them if they wanted to eat with you,” Maverick suggested. Hangman scoffed and Coyote grimaced, which earned a snort.

“Okay, c’mon you two, I’ve read your files and you two weren’t angels at TOPGUN either. The least you could do is make sure they’re adjusting to this okay. It’s elite training, they’re probably scared as hell.”

“I wasn’t, I got in there and I kicked ass,” Hangman rebutted, but the hand on his shoulder stopped him from walking away.

“Those two are from the same town, they spend all their free time together and Posh is Curse’s wizzo. Ringing any bells?”

“I’m not his wizzo,” Hangman complained at the same time as Coyote sighed.

“Yes, sir. We’ll go make sure they’re handling it alright.”

“That’s what I want to hear. Report back if there’s any issues.”

“Thanks Mav.”

Maverick went to merge back into the crowd of aviators but Hangman called out at the last second.

“Hey, you seen Bradshaw anywhere?”

Maverick hummed.

“Something about Shades, he’s reading his file back in my office. I left him to it.”

Hangman and Coyote exchanged a look, a silent agreement. Hangman got up to go and check on Rooster whilst Coyote rounded to the table with Posh and Curse, greeting them with a relaxed smile and a joke.

-

“Captain Garcia?”

“Lieutenant Torres, is everything alright?”

“Sir, I think I need to... request a new pilot.”

Fanboy sat up at his desk, gesturing for Titanium to take a seat in front of him. The WSO did as told, wringing his hands together.

“It’s okay; just start from the start.”

“I- uh, well...”

Fanboy put down his pen and locked his computer’s screen.

“You wanna go hang shit on Payback and talk about what’s going on?”

Titanium blinked.

“Sir...”

“C’mon; it’s that or we find Captain Bradshaw and he puppy-eyes you into telling him all of your life’s secrets. He might be scary as fuck but he’s also scary good at it. Trust me.”

Fanboy stood, gesturing toward the door. Titanium hesitantly followed him into the office adjacent where Payback glanced up.

“What are you... uh, Lieutenant Torres, is everything okay?”

“He said something about a new pilot and I thought you and I could weasel the story out of him, no Bradshaw eyes needed.”

Payback leaned back in his seat, a knowing look crossing his face.

“That’s probably a good idea. Alright, Torres, what’s going on?”

“I- uh... Cowgirl- I mean Lieutenant Ryder- and I... we have known each other for a really long time... before we even flew together.”

Fanboy leaned back in his seat, smirking. Payback’s eyebrow raised.

“Okay...? I would have thought it would make you a good pair-“

“-Payback, man, they’ve been-“

“-and that’s why I think we should be separated. I know it complicates things, especially because we made it all the way to TOPGUN, but... yeah.”

Fanboy and Payback exchanged a look, then Payback nodded.

“I’ll talk to Maverick about it; have you mentioned this to Ryder?”

“She... doesn’t get it.”

“Hm,” Payback and Fanboy mused at the same time.

“Do we have to mention it to Admiral Mitchell, sir? I don’t think he’d appreciate knowing that I slept with my pilot.”

“Maybe; maybe not. It’s not professional conduct from either of you, but Maverick’s a wild card. He’s been in the Navy a really long time and it’s probably not the first time he’s heard of this happening.”

“It’s so rare than women and men aviators are paired together for this exact reason, Captain Fitch.”

“Yeah, maybe so, but you’d be surprised. You leave Maverick to us.”

“Us?” Fanboy hissed. Payback waved him off.

-

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost, honey.”

Rooster glanced over his shoulder at his wife, sending her a soft smile when she put a hand on his back then stood beside him at the dining table. He had Shades’ file out in front of him, clearing his throat.

“Uh, well. I think I might have. Kids already down?”

“For now. Did something happen at work?”

Rooster hummed, leaning back in his seat.

“You might want to sit down for this one... or help me do the math.”

“Okay...?”

She took a seat, reaching over to take his hand.

“No more secrets, Bradley, remember what the marriage counsellor said?”

“I know. Uh, so, the Kerners- you remember Ron Kerner and his wife Sophie? They had a daughter and she was a couple years older than me, Maya. We... were a thing.”

“Oh no, is this one of those things about your first love? I don’t need to know about the first time you got laid-“

“-we were together for over a year, I barely turned 16 and she was almost 18 when her dad decided to leave California after Iceman- Tom Kazansky- was promoted to Admiral and he wasn’t going to be flying anymore. Ron and Sophie took Maya with them and that was the last I heard from them because soon after I had my fight with Mav and got the fuck outta town.”

“I’m following so far. What does this have to do with work?”

Rooster gestured to the file in front of him, Shades’ headshot and a brief typed description of his accomplishments. Neatly typed into the box lay his date of birth, and Rooster’s wife sucked in a breath.

“You’ve got another kid? He’s an adult?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say anything, but I don’t know if he knows. Do I ask him? Do I see if I still have Maya’s number? Shit, this is complicated. The dates kind of match up I think but Maya would have said something. I thought she would have called...”

Mrs Bradshaw stood, dropping a kiss to his temple before leaving to get one of the kids yelling for her. In the meantime, Rooster reached for his phone.

Rooster: we need to meet before work tomorrow morning

Maverick: that’s so early

Maverick: I’m an old man now

Rooster: it’s important and I’ll bring coffee

Maverick: See you at 6:30

Maverick: everything okay?

Rooster: kind of

Maverick: that’s mildly daunting

Rooster: see you at 6:30

-

[boldlyvoid]

Wheels Up

Characters: Spencer Reid, Reader (Y/N), Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Savannah Hayes, Emily Prentiss, Elle Greenaway, Tara Lewis, Jennifer Jareau, Matt Simmons, Luke Alvez

Summary: JJ goes on maternity leave, Spencer falls in love with her replacement that he's supposed to be mentoring, Emily Prentiss and Elle Greenaway work a case together that brings Simmons and Alvez in for help...

Warnings: Genius!Reader, mutual pining, idiots in love, drinking, star gazing, lots of fluff, mentions of past assault, grooming, drug addiction, spencer's trauma, Abductions, Rape, Murder (typical canon violence)

word count: 9.4K

a/n: this is for @starry-eyed-spence and @simmonsmilf CM fanfiction week, Day One: Favorite Character... only I couldn't pick just one.

To say Spencer fell in love at the least opportune time was a bit of an understatement. Everyone he’s ever come close to admitting his love to has either left him or died. Now he’s stuck with loving someone in secret, keeping it to himself and hoping that one day she’ll love him back.

He fell in love with a co-worker once again… which wasn’t the worst thing, office romances happen and it’s quite frankly all Rossi’s fault that they even had to worry about fraternization policies. The part that makes liking Y/N so difficult is that he’s supposed to be her mentor, he’s 5 years older than her, and if he was to ever make a move she would feel inclined to reciprocate in order to keep her job because that’s the unfortunate truth behind office relationships with significant differences in positions.

And worst of all… she doesn’t like him that way at all. She’s called him the brother she always needed, a best friend, the best mentor ever. She wasn’t interested in him in the slightest.

“And why would she be?” He’s said this to everyone who knew about his crush on her. “I’m old and boring and she’s so cool?”

But he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand that every time she asked him to hang back to help her file something, or when they would buddy up in hotel rooms to discuss cases all night and end up down some star trek rabbit hole instead, every time he talked to her she was falling in love with him right back.

It once again all circles back to Rossi, if it wasn’t for him, Spencer wouldn’t even know her. She wouldn’t have ever been introduced to the unit, he wouldn’t be attached to her at the hip and he probably wouldn’t be as happy as he is with her in his life. Even if she wasn’t his girlfriend.

He’ll never forget the day Rossi asked him to meet her, to help her settle in…

“Spencer, can I talk to you for a minute?” Rossi called him into his office.

He sighed, putting his book down and walking up the stairs to his office. He closed the door behind himself and smiled awkwardly, “what’s up?”

“Sit,” he gestures to the chairs in front of his desk, where Spencer pulls one out and proceeds to sit down, anxiously. “As you know, both Kate and JJ will be out of the field in the next few months to have their babies and we need to bring someone in to fill the void until they return, so I reached out to the academy to see if they have any up and coming Dr. Reid like agents that they could loan us.”

“Why?” Spencer laughs at the choice of words.

“Well, honestly, why get new 2 agents when we could have two Reid’s? JJ will be back after a month or 2, it’s better to have more brains than brawn.”

“So they found someone and you want me to be their chaperone?” Spencer clues in. “Who are they?”

“Y/N Y/L/N, she’s a wonderful agent, but she’s pretty quiet, I don’t know much about her personally.” Rossi prefaces. “She’s a genius, high IQ like yours and just a plethora of knowledge inside that mind of hers. You’ll like her.”

“Alright,” he nods. “When do they start?”

“When JJ’s water breaks, but I’d like you to meet them and maybe even have them shadow you for a day?” Rossi asks, “I’ve actually arranged for you both to get dinner at a friend's restaurant?”

“Is this an arranged date or purely business? Don’t send me in there blind,” he worries. “I need at least a week's prep before I go on a date again.”

“It’s not a date, kid,” Rossi laughs. “She's just a lot like you were when I met you, and I know from watching you all these years that it’s not easy to do it alone, so can you just walk them through it?”

“Of course.”

That first dinner Rossi set up for them was more exquisite than either of them prepared for.

They spent the whole night discussing dissertations and their independent journeys through becoming a genius. He understood perfectly why Rossi and the Academy would think she was a lot like him, she was a genius, but she was awkward. It took a while for her to break out of her shell and open up, but by the end of the night, he already knew they were going to be friends.

“So,” she smirks, “would you mind telling me honestly how hard this job is?”

“Why?”

She sighs, “I’ve heard a lot about Thee Doctor Reid and how you were the youngest hired to the BAU and all the shit you’ve been through.”

“What are the rumours these days?” He awkwardly smiles back, rolling his eyes slightly.

“That you were brain dead in a cemetery from an overdose and yet you’re so smart you came back from the dead to kill the unsub and escape…” she looks more and more disappointed in the rumour as she tells it.

His tongue hits the roof of his mouth as he opens it to speak, making a tsk noise as he shakes his head. “Well, I did OD but it was the unsubs main personality that resuscitated me.”

“Holy shit,” she whispers.

He nods, “what about you? I’m sure you have a reputation based on a rumour?”

She presses her lips together the way he always did, just as awkward. She sighs, huffing the air out of her nose and looking fed up. “I was groomed and assaulted by an older boy who then told kids I had a stalkerish crush on him so if I was to ever tell anyone what happened, then no one would believe me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer knows the words don’t make up for what happened. “I’m guessing that’s why you wanted to get into profiling?”

She nods, “I got away with some PTSD and trust issues, most girls go through much worse… they deserve someone who gets it to look into their cases.”

Spencer nods. “That’s how I felt after my kidnapping too. It took a while for me to look at crime scene photos and not think about how they felt, and wonder why I lived when so many die?”

“I’ve never been a religious person,” she prefaces. “But I do believe we are here for a reason. Whether you choseto be here after your last life or this is some learning opportunity, or God is actually real? And you’re supposed to do good.”

“In narcotics anonymous, they reference god a lot, it’s helpful for the addicts, but I never get into it,” he opens up with her more than he’s ever opened up with any friend. “If my Devine purpose is to suffer in order to relate to those I’m supposed to help that’s a load of bullshit… honestly, I can get pretty angry thinking about why I’ve gone through what I’ve gone through doing this job, but it’s not as bad as what happened to me growing up, and it leads me to believe that I probably wouldn’t have had an easy time no matter how I live.”

She nods, “I know, I get that.”

“Sorry,” he snaps out of it. “I didn’t mean to trauma dump on you.”

“It’s exactly what I asked for actually,” she reminds him with a soft smile. “If you can still come to work every day, after all that, you must be incredibly strong— and if I’m anything like you the way people say I am, I guess I can do it too.”

He had no idea she would end up being his best friend.

She shadowed him just once in the office, picked up everything right off the bat and immediately made a name for herself in the unit. Derek tried multiple names on her before one stuck, and they knew it stuck when even Hotch called her Baby Genius.

She brought a different knowledge base to the team, similar to Spencers but visibly younger. She fit in with the crowds of kids they had to interview, she understood why kids reacted the way they did to trauma and abuse, and she was still a kid at heart. It was the reason Spencer fell for her.

She allowed him to feel free again. They went out together outside of work, going to events he always wanted to go to with a partner but never had a chance. She loved all the same things as him, and she takes him to places he’d never imagine enjoying before her.

Like laser tag… that was an afternoon he’ll never forget with her.

When JJ went into labour, that’s when Y/N started full time and Hotch hired Tara Lewis in the same week. The team barely had time to adjust to being undermanned before they were restocked.

Joining Spencer every morning for every case, she waited out front of her apartment for him to pick her up most mornings, sticking to his side throughout the long days and nights until he drove her home again. Even at work, they were partnered up for everything: heading to the M.E. together, bouncing facts back and forth at the precinct, playing good cop bad cop with perverts, and her personal favourite… Making the geoprofile.

And Spencer liked doing that part with her as well. Because it typically meant they were completely alone in a room, spreading out a map and leaning in close to each other as they placed every sticker and marker. Brushing hands, bumping shoulders, longing glances as they made connections… he also just liked to watch her hands move.

She was delicate and careful and precise… and he was falling in love with everything about her as the days went by.

Everyone on the team had noticed. It was really hard not to when they’ve all known Spencer for almost 11 years now. He was so different with her in his life, he was happy and giddy and dressing even better than before. His hair was perfect and he was glued to Y/N’s side. Or she was glued to his.

Even though they were mentally similar, physically they were polar opposites. Y/N wore all black and was a lot more outgoing than they expected. Rossi thought she’d be quiet… But she was constantly talking. To Spencer, to other officers, to witnesses, she never stopped talking and starting conversations, and thank god she did because she’s cracked 4 cases that way.

The biggest surprise the team learned about her happened on a case in Florida, a shooting in a local park in broad daylight with lots of witnesses meant the whole team was on the boardwalk asking questions. She went out to do her thing, talking to the local skaters, asking them if they knew anything but they didn’t want to cooperate.

They were too cool for the feds.

“Can I see your board?” She asks, “if I do some tricks will you answer some questions for me and Doctor Reid?”

“Knock yourself out,” one of the boys laughs as he hands her his board.

She hands Spencer her gun and shoots him a wink before taking off to do a few tricks. The whole team watches in awe then as Y/N showed off. Cruising along the halfpipe effortlessly like she was a professional.

“Okay Tony Hawk,” Morgan teases her, “where did that come from?”

“Skateboarding is easy, it’s just physics,” she shrugs. “I can figure skate too…”

“What do you want to know?” The boy takes his board back. “We always see some sketchy guys around here.”

Morgan pats Y/N on the back with a smile, applauding her ability to get anyone to open up before leaving her to take the statement.

“Agent?” One of the girls pulls her aside just before they are about to leave, “how did you do that kickflip? I’ve been trying to learn and the boys won't help me.”

“Sure thing,” she takes the girl's board and demonstrates a kickflip first.

“So, you see as I start the kickflip I bend my knees?” She shows her another kickflip all while explaining it. “Much like the with an ollie, I’m building pressure so I can apply it to the tail, making the board pop. The one thing that makes this trick different from the ollie is that instead of sliding my foot up, I just flick my toe out to the right of the board, by doing this, the board flips in a 360-degree motion.

She demonstrates again and it’s another flawless kickflip, and a huge smile on her face as Spencer watches her.

“How fast the board spins depends on how much force I put into it when I flick it out. As soon as the board flips in a full 360, your feet should connect and drive the board back to the ground.”

She hands the board back to the girl, “your turn.”

She takes a deep breath and shakes her nerves out before taking off on her board, looping around and carefully bending her knees, she follows every step and it’s a flawless kickflip.

“Flawless!!” Y/N claps. “Those boys better watch out, you’re a natural.”

“Thank you,” she wraps her arms around Y/N and gives her a hug, “it’s taken me so long to be able to do that, you’re so cool.”

“You’re welcome,” she smiles. “Good luck out there.”

She waves as she takes off on her board, leaving Y/N with a smile as she turns to Spencer. “I miss being that age and thinking everything is so cool.”

“You are really cool,” he agrees. Smiling softly as a blush fills his cheeks. “You’re always surprising me. Is there anything you can’t do?”

She laughs, “yeah the one thing I want to do the most.”

“Which is?”

She sighs, “maybe I’ll tell you someday.”

—

He’s sitting beside Penelope and Savannah, watching Derek and Y/N get drinks for what’s left of the group as the night drags on.

“When are you going to tell her?” Savannah asks.

“What?” Spencer pretends he doesn’t know what she’s talking about.

“You have a crush on the new girl…” she pokes his cheek as he blushes and gives it away. “Tell her, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“She could feel forced to say yes because I’m a supervisory special agent and she isn’t and she wants to keep her job so she feels like she needs to,” Spencer worries. “I want her to like me back because she fell for me and I want her to initiate it because then I’ll know it’s not just a power dynamic issue.”

“Have you tried asking her, genius?” Penelope teases. “Because if you asked her then you’d know she has a crush on you and she’s afraid you’ll turn her down because you’re an SSA and she isn’t.”

“When did you hear that?”

Penelope pretends to lock up her lips and throw away the key, making Savannah laugh loud enough to get Derek's attention at the bar. When he and Y/N return, that’s when the questions start.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Spencer gets up and leaves the booth, walking out towards the smokers' exit at the back of the bar, getting a moment of semi-fresh air to think about what Penelope said.

“Spence?” She calls to him from the door, “are you okay? Can I come out here?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Sorry, I needed some air, it’s nothing.”

“Do you need a hug? I read it helps the most when people are stressed out,” she plays it off with a shrug.

“So you do have a crush on me?”

“She told you?” Her face lights with fury, “what the fuck, Penelope?”

“She didn’t mean to,” he tries to cover it up. “It was only brought up because I have feelings for you as well.”

Her eyes widen, her brows raise and her mouth slowly opens as she freezes.

“Y/N?”

She blinks a few times and shakes her head, “impossible. There’s no way.”

He laughs, “I’ll take that hug now?”

She lunges for him and wraps her arms around him so tight. Breathing him in, her hands wander his back as she takes in every second if it and he does the same. He can’t believe she’s that close to him, her hair smells nice and she’s so soft in his arms.

It’s quiet outside, they can hear the music behind the door, the people in the ally talking and the crickets in the night. It’s just them outside, holding each other in the smoking section with smiles on their faces, amazed that it’s finally happening.

“Can we keep this between us?” She whispers into his ear. “Just for a bit? I don’t want to go through all the paperwork and have to separate in the field if it doesn’t work out?”

“Wait,” Spencer pulls back. “Are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”

She nods, “well yeah isn’t that what happens when two people have a mutual crush? They date?”

“Okay,” he smiles, staring at her lips and then flicking his gaze back to hers with a blush. “I have more than a crush on you, I really, really like you.”

“Prove it,” she teases, “let's go on a real date soon?”

“You know what, let’s get out of here. I have something I want to show you,” he takes her hand and waits for her to nod.

“Take my lead okay? You don’t feel good and you’re going to wait outside while I say goodbye,” she has a plan right away

“After you,” he holds the door open for her and lets her inside first.

—

“I’m taking Spencer home, he’s not doing well,” she’s a much better actress than Spencer expected, patting his back and watching him leave the bar before her like she asked him to do. “He’s really anxious?”

Penelope looks worried, “oh no, I fucked up. I told him you like him.”

She just shrugs, “if he didn’t know that already then I guess he’s not as smart as he pretends to be.”

“See,” Derek looks at Savannah. “I told you everyone else also thinks he’s faking being that smart.”

“Shut up,” she shoves him and turns her attention back to Y/N. “Go make him feel better, he’ll like your company.”

“I’ll see you guys at work on Monday,” she waves them goodbye, surprised they bought it as she rushes her way back outside to Spencer.

He’s already in his car, engine running and waiting for her with a smile. “Come on,” he hurries her inside and is taking off down the road before she even has her seatbelt on yet.

“What’s the rush, Spence? It’s only 1 in the morning I’m sure tones of places are open still?” She teases.

“You’re going to like this, I used to go here all the time when I started with the bureau,” he explains, leaving the main road to take a back root, and eventually they’re driving on gravel.

“If you’re taking me here to murder me this is a dumb way to do it because they all know I left with you,” she teases. “At least when you go to get rid of me, do yourself a favour and dig 6 one-foot holes instead of one 6 foot hole…”

He laughs, “would you really give your murderer tips?”

She nods, “my goal would be to piss him off so much he either lets me go or murders me quickly. I don’t want to go through all the pain.”

“It’s not fun, that’s for sure,” he shrugs it off but she knows it hits too hard.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, reaching her hand out for his to hold by the gear shift. “I think you’re like the strongest guy in the world, you know that, right?”

“Why?” He asks as if that's a preposterous thing to say.

“I think if I got kidnapped and tortured at 24 I wouldn’t still be working in the FBI,” she admits. “I barely made it through the academy, I know this job is intense but I don’t think I could handle being in that situation.”

“If it’s up to me,” Spencer squeezes her hand tighter and brings it to his lips for a kiss. “You’ll never experience anything like that.”

He’s so good at making her feel safe that she almost believes he has the power to do that. He would do anything and everything to move fate for her safety.

He turns down another back road then, around the edge of a lake and towards a clearing. He follows old tire tracks and parks by the dock. “I found this spot one night on a random drive to clear my head.”

“I thought you hated driving?” She quizzes him.

He shrugs, “I like to drive at night when no one else is on the road because then I don’t really have to worry about anyone else. I hate driving because I can’t always anticipate other drivers' movements. If I could read minds, then I’d drive more.”

“Valid,” she nods, “now why is this such a special spot that you needed to show me right away?”

“Well, I have a telescope and it’s been in my trunk for the last 13 years so that every time I come here, I can look up at the moon…”

“You brought me here to look at the moon with you?” She swoons, “that’s so cute.”

“You think?” He looks like his heart is doing the same swelling as hers.

She gets out of the car before she can lean over and kiss him the way she wants to. In his trunk, he does have a telescope, and a blanket, which they set out on the dock and sit upon.

The sound of the lake, the loons in the distance, frogs and crickets and music travelling from somewhere down the lake. The moon was big, the stars were amazing, and this was the closest she has ever seen them. It's amazing, and of course, it was Spencer showing her everything.

He was everything to her.

And it didn’t take long for him to become everything to her either.

Joining the BAU was a dream to many at the academy, but Y/N never thought that she would get the job, overjoyed that she did. They were a family unit; they got the job done, they protected each other, and it was a wonderful environment to be a part of. She obviously liked Spencer the most out of everyone. He took her in, he made her feel comfortable and safe and she opened up more with him than she has with anyone she’s labelled a “best friend” in the past.

She liked everything about him. The way he talked with his hands, how his sweater, vest, shirt and tie always match, his gun looks a little out of place on his belt, like it’s too big for him, but it’s cute. His hair’s been getting longer too, sometimes he wears glasses and sometimes if she’s lucky, he doesn’t shave every day.

She can’t take her eyes off him when he’s busy and won't notice, just to then move her focus away when he stared at her. She only wishes she could see the way he stares at her in awe, because if it’s anything like how she looks at him, he must love her.

She keeps her hand in his, trading the telescope back and forth in turns, her face was close to his every time they switched and she kept getting bolder with each exchange. Letting Spencer look, she kept her face close to his, kissing his cheek softly as soon as he was busy peering up at the moon.

He turned to her with a gasp, “what was that for?”

“You’re cute,” she shrugs. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a while.”

“How long?” He teases, leaning in closer and kissing her nose to make her laugh.

“Since you dropped me off at my house after that first dinner…”

“So this is me,” she nods out the window, “thank you for the ride, I appreciate not having to be in an Uber all by myself.”

“Anytime you need a ride, you can give me a call?” He asks. “Seeing as we’ll be going to the same place anyway.”

She nods with a smile, “I’d love that, do you live close to here?”

“Just up the street,” he nods. “So we could carpool?”

“I can drive some days if you want?” She asks, “I know you mostly take the subway, and I know that because I’ve seen you reading on there before.”

He can’t help but smile, “so you never thought to say hello?”

“No,” she shakes her head, “you looked peaceful, and I’m sure you don’t get many moments like that in your line of work.”

He sighed, knowing she was right. “If it ever gets to be too much for you, please never feel like you have to pretend to be okay? None of us expect you to be stone cold, none of us are either. The job gets to us, just tell me if it gets to be too much?”

She looks from his lips back to his eyes and over again, “thanks, Spencer.”

He does the same to her, “anytime. Should I walk you to your door?”

She shakes her head, “that’s okay you’ve done enough for me tonight.”

“Fair enough,” he laughs. “Have a good night Y/N.”

“You too, Spencer,” she smiles before she exits his car, smiling at him from her porch before he drives away.

“So it’s been mutual this whole time?” He shakes his head at the absurdity. “I’ve been so lonely for so long and then I found you and you make me feel like I don’t need to be alone anymore.”

“You complete me too,” she makes one more comment before connecting their lips.

It’s like the world stops then. It’s silent and serene and everything she thought kissing Spencer Reid would be.

She pulls back with a smirk, “oh no.”

“What?” He worries.

“I’m going to want to kiss you all the time now…”

“Good,” he mumbles the words against her lips before reconnecting them.

—

At work on Monday, it’s very hard for them to look at each other without remembering that they’ve kissed. Spencer’s practically glowing with admiration for her that he gives it all away. He’s overly happy, offering to do things for others, standing way too close to her and bringing her coffee all morning.

“Okay, pretty boy,” Derek takes him by the scruff of the neck and redirects him into his office. “What’s going on with you today, I know you’re not this happy for JJ’s return?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did you get laid or something?”

Spencer laughs, “no, you know I don’t get laid. You actually remind me of that fact quite often.”

“You’re so happy I’m worried you’ve moved to crack,” he says it. “Okay, you were acting weird on Friday, you missed brunch on Sunday and now you’re waaay too happy.”

“I’m not on drugs again,” Spencer assures him. “I’m just letting myself enjoy my time with Y/N, if she falls in love with me in the meantime that would also be nice.”

“Oh, so you’re doing this to get laid,” Derek teases him again. “That’s good, I’m sorry if I triggered you by asking, but I had to make sure you’re okay.”

“No, no,” he places his hands on Derek's shoulders, “thank you for caring.”

“Always—“

“Guys!” They hear Hotch yelling from the bullpen, cutting the tender moment short, saving Spencer from spilling the truth.

Rushing back, he sits beside Y/N at the briefing room table. “We have a bad one,” Emily Prentiss of all people walks in the door, followed by Elle Greenaway.

“We’ll have time to mingle in a minute, right now there is a woman who needs our help,” he announces.

Spencer quickly reads over the case files, recognizing Elles handwritten notes, she was a private investigator now. “With Penelope’s help, I’ve been able to set up alerts in College chatrooms in the area so that I can help to missing and assaulted women right away.”

“She’s alerted when someone reports a missing woman and she has advertisements for people to reach out to her for help,” Penelope explained.

“I’ve been working on these cases for the last 9 years,” Elle announces. “This morning Aasia Desai called me saying her sister Bahni never showed up for lunch and it’s not like her, we know she went clubbing last night and so far Penelope’s tracked her down an ally and then she’s gone.”

“Her parents are British diplomats so Interpol has asked me to join, luckily I was just in Ontario so it was a short trip over,” Emily adds. “JJ will be here in half an hour for her first day back, and we will celebrate when we can, but I see we have some new faces here?”

“Special Agent Y/N Y/L/N,” she waves, still glued to Spencer’s side. “I’ve heard a lot about you both from Doctor Reid.”

“Doctor Tara Lewis,” she stands and shakes Emily’s hand, and then Elles.

“So it says here that the first missing case was in 2006 just after you left the BAU?” Spencer changes the subject before anyone can pry into why he would be telling her about the women who worked there before her.

“I did,” Elle nods. “I was too late for her, by the time her parents realized she was missing and called me in the case was cold. I started this as a way to get ahead of it.”

“How long has she been missing?” Tara asks.

“She was last seen at 1:07 this morning,” Elle confirms. “We have 25 hours, maybe, to beat the odds.”

“Reid,” Hotch cuts in, “I would like you and Elle to go check out the street she was last seen on, find any private cameras or anyone who might have seen something.”

He turns to Y/N who just shrugs in silence; “it’s fine.”

“Tara and Derek, I’d like you to interview Aasia when she and JJ get here, Garcia can you do a deep dive into Bahni’s spending and academic records?”

“Sure thing,” she starts clicking away on her computer immediately.

“And Y/N,” Elle looks at her. “I need you to go over the footage of the man who followed her to the alley and get familiar with his face. We’re using you as the face of the investigation to hopefully draw the unsub out.”

“How would she be able to do that alone?” Spencer gets defensive, a way he used to with JJ when she was the media liaison.

“If she goes on the news and makes Bahni seem like a person while describing the unsub as someone who can help solve the case, it will draw him out,” Emily explains for Hotch, who is glaring at Spencer for second-guessing the plan already.

“And she’s college-age,” Elle adds. “If that’s who he’s been going after all this time he will want to come in and talk IF he can talk to her.”

She places her hand on his leg under the table, “it’s a good plan.”

“It is,” Hotch agrees.

“What do you not have a saying to replace wheels up when they stay in town?” Elle teases him.

“Wheels away?” Emily joins her, “that works?”

“just get to work,” Hotch tries not to smirk at them.

Spencer stands up to leave with Elle, “can I just talk to Spencer before he leaves?” She carefully asks Hotch.

“Make it quick,” he agrees reluctantly and lets her follow him down to his desk.

Spencer rests his hands on the back of his desk chair, holding it tightly in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I’m going to be fine,” she assures him. “I don’t think the guy on the tape took her, we’d see him leave if he did.”

“Unless he lives in the alley,” Spencer combats. “Can you ask Penelope to do a background check on all the cars coming in and out of the campus and that street between midnight at 2 am?”

She nods, placing her hand on his gently. “Good luck out there, okay?”

He nods, “it’s been 2 days they’re going to know by the end of the week.”

She laughs, “so be it.”

He says fuck it right then and there, wrapping her up in a hug and kissing the top of her head as the team watches in the briefing room. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yes you will,” she smacks his side as he lets her go. “If you’re going to make a scene at least give me a real kiss.”

“Hmm,” he teases. “No cause then I’d have to sign some paperwork and I’ve got to go…” he starts to back away.

“Coward,” she teases.

He just shrugs, meeting Elle by the door and heading towards the elevators in silence.

She doesn’t ask, not even when they get to the garage or inside the SUV. They’re driving down the road for maybe 2 minutes when Elle finally brings it up. “So—”

“What do you want to know?”

“It's that easy now? What happened to you?” She teases. “You’re so different from the baby Spence I left.”

“Well you missed my drug problem, my dad being a possible child molester, getting shot in the knee, getting shot in the neck, my girlfriend dying, and now my mom might have Alzheimer's so you know… I had to grow up a bit,” he lays it all out for her to ask any question she wants.

“Why don’t you ever call me? I would have been there for you through anything,” she reminds him.

“I know that,” he reaches over for her hand, “thank you. But I was a big fan of suffering in silence… and now I have Y/N and she makes me feel normal?”

“That’s good, you deserve some fraction of normal in your life and she’s really cute,” Elle smiles back at him before returning her focus to the road. “How old is she?”

“27,” he smiles. “She’s the best.”

“You love her,” Elle notices it.

He presses his lips together to fend off a smile as he nods, “I think I do.”

“Tell her, you deserve to hear that someone loves you back.”

—

She’s anxiously tapping her foot as she waits for the elevator to arrive with the suspect, Rossi standing just behind her. Only 15 minutes after being on the news, the man that was in the security footage contacted them. Making his way over for a voluntary interview.

He looks Y/N up and down with a smile, “I heard you were looking for me.”

“I sure was,” she plays along with it, smiling and making him think she’s interested as well. “I knew you’d get the message, we just need all the help we can get right now.”

“Of course,” he has his ego stroked so well that they can roll with it.

“Would you mind coming with me and Agent Rossi to talk about everything you saw?” She batts her lashes at him, really selling it.

“Sure,” he follows them down the hall.

Rossi opens the door and lets them in first, letting her get him settled and a glass of water. “So you can tell me everything from that night?”

“Sure,” he nods, explaining his taxi job, his run for the night and his alibi.

“So why did you step back into the doorway?” She asks as she sits in front of him. Straight-faced as she catches him off guard.

“Excuse me?”

“You stepped out of the way to let her pass and then followed her, she made no motion to say she wanted your services, so I’m just wondering why you would follow her before she disappeared?”

“Huh,” he suddenly feels played and his personality switches. “I thought this was just a chat?”

“I’m simply asking you questions? If you don’t have answers that makes you suspicious. An innocent person would have given me an answer,” she fights back.

“She’s right, you got very defensive very fast,” Rossi finally speaks up.

He shakes his head with a huff. “I was going to ask if she needed a ride, she looked pretty messed up. And then some guy came over and wrapped his arm around her and they walked off. They seemed to know one another. I thought she was safe in his hands.”

Only his tone doesn’t match the words. He sounds jealous— It’s not like she would have been a large tab, he wasn’t jealous because he lost a customer. No, he’s jealous like someone stepped in and prevented him from snatching an easy victim.

“Fair enough,” she pretends to believe him. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

“I can go now?” He changes right back to confused.

She nods, “I’ll escort you down if you’d like?”

“Thanks,” he stands and follows her to the door where Rossi stops her.

“Are you sure?”

She nods, “I’ll be back up shortly.”

She catches up with him by the elevators, “did you have to drive far to get here?” She makes small talk.

“Not really,” he shakes it off. “I like your necklace.”

She touches her necklace and her face drops, “thanks.”

“Necklaces are my favourite.”

“You don’t wear any?” She notices in the form of a question.

He shakes his head as the elevator opens at the ground level. “I think they’re nice gifts.”

She nods along, pretending that didn’t set off every ret alert and alarm in her mind, “well here you are. Thanks again for all the help.”

“No problem,” he goes to leave, turning to stop and block the doors from closing. “If you want, later tonight I can show you everything I saw at the alley?”

“Yeah, sure,” she agrees with no plan to go.

“8 pm? At Cafe Linda?”

“See you then,” she agrees and he steps back letting the door close and then she loses her cool.

Feverishly smashing the floor 6 button, and begging to make it back up to Hotch to tell him everything. But she also just wants to cry but she holds it in as she makes it to their floor matching past Rossi and right into the briefing room.

“He may not be our unsub but that man is a creep,” she announces. “He not only complimented my necklace but he asked me to come to the alley tonight so he can walk me through what he saw.”

“You’re not going,” Hotch announces.

“I didn’t plan to,” she snaps. “I think we need to look into him because he’s either giving little girls necklaces to keep them quiet or he’s taking necklaces after he kills women.”

“Kathy’s parents said she was in a necklace when she went missing,” Emily adds. “His connection to this case and being at NYU right before she went missing gives us enough probable cause for a search warrant.”

Hotch sighs, “fine. I’ll call a judge, you and Y/N can go and search his place.”

“So shouldn’t we arrest him before he leaves the building?” Morgan asks.

“He’s still in the garage, I’ve let the security know to stop him and arrest him at the gate,” Garcia adds, listening in and planning in advance.

“Thank you,” Hotch smiles at her, “you’re always reading my mind.”

Garcia smiles back at him, “always, sir.”

“Okay, let’s go,” she looks at Emily and waiting for her to turn to leave the room.

“Let’s,” she motions for Y/N to take the lead and follows.

The drive to his house is so weird… she doesn’t quite know how to talk to Emily, knowing only slightly about her and her knowing nothing about Y/N.

“So how long have you and Spencer been dating?” Her first question just gets right to the point.

She laughs awkwardly, “3 days…”

“Oh…”

She hums as she nods along, looking out the window and avoiding Emily’s eye contact. “It’s new, we’re both pretty infatuated with each other but we’re taking it slower than most people because I’m afraid to let my feelings change how I do the job.”

“Makes sense,” Emily replies. Her voice is so sweet, she has an aura of calm that follows her and lets Y/N feel safe. She gets why Spencer said she was his best friend on the team before her.

“The necklace comment… why did it make you so wary of this guy?”

“When I was in middle school a guy gave me a necklace while he was grooming me,” she whispers. Looking out the window and pretending it doesn’t bother her now. “It’s fine, I don’t have it anymore, but I knew this guy had that same vibe.”

Emily put her hand out, letting Y/N interlock their fingers and hold it. “I know I just met you, but you’re family now. I’m here if you’re ever suddenly not fine with it anymore…”

“Thanks,” she smiles. “Let’s get this fucker.”

—

By the time the warrant went through, Spencer and Elle had joined them to search the first suspect's house while Emily left to help the rest of the team with suspect two. Tracking all the license plates in the area like Spencer suggested lead them to a Chinese food delivery driver in the area.

That didn’t stop Y/N from destroying her suspect's house. They tore the house apart, searching every nook and cranny for any answer that would make sense. She was tempted to lift the floorboards up, call in SCSI to run ground-penetrating radar and search the fucking walls if they had to.

But then she found it.

A small metal box in the laundry room contained some tools and when she lifted up the fake bottom, she found 5 necklaces.

“Elle!!” She yelled through the house.

They both came running down the hall to her, “is this Kathy’s necklace?”

“Oh my god,” she whispered with a nod.

“I want to kill this guy,” she mumbles under her breath as she places the necklaces back in the box and closes it up.

“Spencer doesn’t need another girl he has a crush on to murder someone and get kicked out of the bureau,” Elle teases.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“Way to go,” Spencer nudges her.

Y/N stands up with the box and slides it into a large evidence bag before taping it up. “I guess he has a type then.”

“I don’t,” Spencer tries to cover up. “I mean, if I do then it’s people who are nice to me…”

She smiles at him, unable to even pretend to be jealous or mad. “It’s hard to be mean to you when you’re so cute.”

“Ew,” Elle announces her disgust as she leaves the room.

“Let’s get out of here before I end up kissing you in a murderer's laundry room,” Spencer teases, taking her hand and leading her out of the house as the rest of the forensics team takes over the bagging of evidence.

“Guys,” Elle rushes back to them with her phone pressed to her ear. “We have a bigger problem than we thought with Bahni.”

They rush into the SUV, putting the team on the speaker to hear the most unthinkable. “So I did what Y/N suggested and searched every single driver coming in and off-campus and the last street she was seen on,” Penelope explains back. “And I came across a man who was delivering Chinese food under the name Tom Larson… and it’s ironic his name is tom because he has a plethora of peeping offences and general creepiness alongside a metric shit-ton of abuse from his dad and dead mother.”

“Okay?” Elle follows.

“Tom Larson lives near Bahni,” Emily explains, “I was just at his house where I found him and his father had been murdered.”

“So we have not 1 but 3 creeps in this case, and none of them are who took Bahni?” Spencer rubs his eyes. “Please tell me we know who was in Tom’s car last night.”

“That’s where it gets tricky,” Penelope says with the doles tones of keys clicking behind her words. “We were just contacted by the fugitive Taskforce because they believe one of the murderers they’ve been tracking took Bahni… but he has ties to a much larger scale global sex trafficking ring.”

Elle flies through the streets with their lights on, pulling back into headquarters and right up to the security check. “So who is this guy?”

“Once you get back up here, Agent Simmons and Alvez will explain everything,” Hotch confirms. “I’m taking Derek to see Cruze, we need to tell him what’s going on.”

“Sounds good,” Elle hangs up and throws the SUV in park.

Y/N hesitates, staying put and taking a few breaths as Spencer watches. Elle’s left the car and is already on her way to the elevator. “What’s wrong?”

“Can I just have a hug real quick?”

“Yeah,” he wraps his arms around her and holds her close. “Are you okay?”

She nods against him, “yeah it’s just good to have at least 8 hugs a day.”

“Hug me whenever you need to,” he whispers against her hair, kissing the side of her head before she pulls back.

“Kisses are helpful too?”

He smiles, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers, mumbling against them, “how many?”

She hums, “10?”

He pecks her lips 10 times and counts each one, making her giggle, it takes so much effort to hold her smile back to keep kissing him but she feels much better.

“Thank you,” she beams and she can swear Spencer's eyes sparkle as he smiles back.

She pulls him into another hug, “I hate that we have to go catch a killer right now.”

“Come on then, as soon as we get him we can go on another date somewhere?”

She shakes her head, “after this case I think we should take a nap together… I’m exhausted and I don’t want to let you go.”

Spencer shakes his head in amazement, “you really like me?”

“Yeah, maybe I do,” she teases him. “You should get used to it because it’s only going to get more intense and I will smother you with love.”

He just shrugs, “it’s about time—“

They’re startled with a knock on the window, “we get it you’re in love, can we go now?”

“Sorry!” Y/N calls back with a giggle, pulling him in for one last kiss before getting out. Spencer follows with a deep blush that everyone will see when they get back upstairs, but it looks cute on him.

Luke Alvez has been trying to catch one criminal for the last 2 years. Simon Garrett has been a pain in the ass for the FBI, the CIA and DEA. He first showed up on their radar when his DNA was found on 14 women’s remains, all of who had been missing for at least 5 years.

His DNA was then traced to his son in the foster system, who’s been off the radar for the last 10 years. Everette Garrett.

“Now he’s interesting because I’ve been investigating his sex trafficking ring between Canada and the United States,” Matt adds. “All 14 women his father's DNA was found on were thought to be in his ring, which means when they get too old he hands them to his father to take care of.”

Y/N shakes her head as she listens, “so if you’ve been looking for them for this long what makes you think we can find them in time to save Bahni?”

“We’ve been tracking him for a while, we knew that he had a new girl on his radar and when we heard it was Bahni Desai we knew it was time to get you guys,” Matt explains.

“So far we know that she has to be taken to this warehouse in Alexandria before she goes any further, we’re going to intercept them before they make it to the warehouse and then use their car to gain access to take the whole thing down,” Luke rolls out a map of the facility then.

“We need to have the place surrounded for any runners, SWAT is getting prepped, we’re going tonight at 3 am,” Matt adds. “Morgan, Hotch, Prentiss, Alvez and Myself will be running a team at each of the 5 exits. Once inside, each team's swat unit will deploy gas to carefully knock everyone out, from there we need someone to cuff everyone at least until we know who is a victim and who is working there.”

“We’re taking everyone alive?” Spencer makes sure he hears them right.

“We need to know what the step after this warehouse is if we want to rescue more victims,” Luke’s voice is gentle yet stern as he explains. “I’ve seen this man take too many women from good homes and ruin their lives, I’m not letting him slip out of my fingers.”

“We’ve had this planned for months, we just needed to wait for the next confirmed drop-off.”

“Who’s driving?” Y/N asks, having a feeling it was her and Spencer.

“He’s Reids age,” Hotch announces from the door as he walks in with Cruze, “so we’ll replace Everette with Reid and Bahni with Y/L/N.”

“Rossi and Elle will be there to apprehend Everette, we’re setting up a fake traffic spot to irritate him and inhibit him from running. You two will be in a duplicate car arriving at the warehouse at the arranged time,” Emily confirms. “We just have to prep SWAT and then we can leave.”

“Alright, let’s get ready.”

—

Pretending to be kidnapped in the back of a car driven by her boyfriend was possibly the weirdest way to spend a Tuesday morning. Driving the exact make and model as their unsub, her heartbeat was loud enough to cover the sound of the engine and distract her from the long drive. She was overly anxious, and rightly so, it was her first sting.

And she was doing it all without coffee. Tired but full of adrenaline, she wanted to close her eyes and drift off but she knew she needed to be ready to apprehend the men at the gate with Spencer.

She feels the large bump, indicating they just went over a speed bump and she knows what that means. The car slows and she can hear the muffled talking before swat steps in, soon enough Spencer is cracking the trunk open and reaching in for her.

“Are you okay?” He helps her to her feet and makes sure her bulletproof vest is on right before handing her, her gun and watching her clip it on.

“Yeah, what happened?”

“The guards are down, Swat moved in as soon as we arrived, now we have to stand here and wait for them to clear the building,” Spencer explains as they walk to the front of her car.

She draws her gun and keeps it pointed low, guarded as they watch the front entrance for anyone to escape. “Do you know if Bahni is okay?” She whispers towards him.

He nods, “they radioed in that they got her, she’s being airlifted to the hospital with JJ right now.”

She nods with a deep breath, “okay good.”

“It’s going to be fine, we have enough SWAT here to take the government,” he tries to joke, getting a laugh from one of the officers… very strange to see someone laugh while holding an assault rifle.

One of the swat side steps towards Spencer, “I’m hearing on the line that they’ve cleared every room. They’re cuffing everyone, you’re free to enter.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replies.

The high-pitched screech rubber gripping asphalt in an attempt to stop draws their attention backwards. Elle and Rossi jumping out with their guns drawn, ready to join even though the exciting part is long over.

“No runners?” Elle asks, holstering her weapon. “Aw man, I was excited.”

“Not a one,” Y/N adds, watching the front entrance for the rest of the team to start funnelling out with the unsubs.

Luke exits first with a big smile on his face, Simon Garrett cuffed and barely stumbling out the door in front of him. He finally got him.

“well done,” Elle congratulates him. “Let me help you get him in SWAT van.”

“I think she has a thing for Luke,” Rossi leans into Y/N to gossip. “she wouldn’t stop asking about him on the drive…”

“Ooo,” Y/N teases, getting more and more tired as her adrenaline drops. Her eyes are heavy and Rossi can tell.

“Why don’t I bring you and the good doctor home, I don’t think they need all of us for the wrap-up,” Rossi pats her back. “You’ve had a long night, kid.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, holstering her gun and turning with him towards the SUV. “I’m so exhausted.”

“Well you’ve been on the job for almost 24 hours now, you’ve officially made it through your first overnight sting op,” Rossi congratulates her like he’s her grandpa.

She turns back when she doesn’t hear Spencer following her, “Spence? Are you coming?”

“Um,” he has something to ask as he follows then but he doesn’t say it. “Yeah, sorry.”

“It’s okay, come sit with me in the back?” She asks, sliding in beside him and resting her head on his shoulder as soon as their seatbelts are on.

“Did you still want to have a nap together?” He whispers, feeling her nod against his shoulder before she pulls back.

“Come here,” she tugs him in against her chest, snuggling in as best as she could in their sitting position. Holding him close and feeling him drift off in her arms. She has no problem following suit.

When she wakes, Rossi is parked outside of her apartment, “here you go, Y/N.”

She hums as she comes to, shaking Spencer awake too, “Spence, come on, let’s get to bed.”

“He’s going with you?”

She nods, “don’t tell Penelope. She’ll have a field day, I just want a nap.”

“You better get more than a nap,” Rossi orders. “You guys need to actually rest before you come back to work on Wednesday.”

“Thanks, Dad,” she teases him. “We will.”

“Bye Dave,” Spencer whispers as he gets out of the car. “Thank you for the ride.”

“Anytime kid,” Rossi waves them off, waiting for them to enter the building before driving away.

“Finally,” she sighs, dragging Spencer down the hall and towards her apartment. “I’m so fucking tired.”

“me too,” he barely says.

He follows her inside like a lost puppy, taking off his vest and shirt, slipping out of his pants until he’s in an undershirt, boxers and his mismatched socks. She’s amazed by how comfortable he is with her, but she has known him for 3 months, it’s enough time to fall in love with someone… right?

She’s loved him since she started working with him. When she realized he valued her opinions, he looked at her as a person and he genuinely loved her company. She felt a real connection with him, not just childish infatuation. He was everything to her.

She slides into bed beside him and snuggles in, wrapping an arm around his middle and resting her head on his chest.

“I guess I really can do everything,” she smirks.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

She pokes his chest and giggles away the awkwardness, “the thing I wanted to do most, the thing that I couldn’t do… that was to fall in love with you, but I did it anyway.”

“Well, then I guess I can do everything too.”

She pulls away to look at him, “I love you, Spencer. I don’t know if it’s too soon, but I’ve loved you for a while.”

He pulls her in for a kiss, shocking her as he breathes her in and holds her there. “I love you, more Y/N.”

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[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. 

☾

[rafescoke]

Maybank ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

Part #2

Read part #1 here

masterlist

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Sometimes both sides are in the wrong.

Warnings: More angst, mentions of substance, gaslighting!

A/N: you know the drill. . . send requests!

(Y/N) isn’t one to feel jealous easily.

When she dated a certain boy from her school a few years ago, she wasn’t even phased when she had found him kissing another girl at a party.

She simply didn’t care.

But the aching feeling in her when she saw her current boyfriend sniffing a line on the back of a random girl with the perfect house and the perfect clothes and the-

“(Y/N), do you want to come down to the beach with us?”

(Y/N) finally looks up from her novel in which she wasn’t even reading in the first place. Her mind was somewhere else, and her thoughts weren’t put in the context of the book.

“No. I’m not feeling well.”

JJ sighs, fixing his cap backwards and placing himself beside her. He looks over her lap, reading the first few lines of the book his sister’s reading and sighs. 

“I never read, so I do not understand how this whole novel thing works. But I’m pretty sure reading about getting over a breakup won’t do you any good.”

(Y/N) rolls her eyes, snapping her book with a shut. The last thing she ever wants is for JJ to lecture her. She had enough bawling her eyes the past 2 weeks. 

“What time are you supposed to go again? Go.”

She’s grateful, of course, for JJ. He was there for her the whole 2 weeks when she didn’t feel like eating or taking a shower or anything that involved getting out of the bed.

But she feels better now, her hair perfectly up in a hairdo and the red color of her cheeks returning.

She’s not sad anymore.

The feeling evolves into anger.

Of course, (Y/N).

You’re nothing but a pogue.

If there’s one thing Obx is famous for, that will be the annual bonfire. It’s an excuse for every teenager on the island to let loose and to free themselves after a year of studying.

For (Y/N), it’s just another party for Rafe to ignore her.

But she’s not coming down to the beach with him a few distance away, hell, she doesn’t even know if he’s coming.

“What the fuck! You told me you’re not coming,” JJ laughs, giving his sister a side hug. “You look good. You don’t look pale anymore.”

“I’m gonna be sick if you keep saying nice things to me,” (Y/N) rolls her eyes, though her insides are beaming. JJ has always been her number one supporter, and she loves her brother with all her heart.

“Just don’t go to the other side of the beach, okay? All your friends are here.”

And we’re back to him protecting her.

She gets it, really, but she doesn’t feel like a night full of JJ and his friends becoming some sort of bodyguards to her.

The last thing she ever wants is for Rafe to think she’s still weak.

“J, I know.”

He holds both of his hands up, “I’m just saying. I’m by the fire if you ever need me, okay?”

It’s funny how the boy who cried to her over his scraped knee is the same boy who’s trying his best to protect her. Growing up in a dysfunctional family, all (Y/N) and JJ has is each other. 

(Y/N) walks to the music booth, getting so tired over the same artist being played over and over again. She doesn’t feel like listening to Drake all while trying to forget a certain brunette boy from the back of her head.

“Hey, can I get something different? Play the Euphoria soundtrack if you must. Anything other than the songs you’re playing.”

The DJ looks up to her and gives out the widest grin. (Y/N) tries to look away from the charming smile, but her eyes are glued to a pair of blue ones.

“Not a fan of Drake?”

“Nah.”

“Why? Trying to move on from an ex?”

She gulps, “No. Just have a good taste in music.”

The guy licks his teeth, “Touche. The name’s Nate.”

(Y/N) gives him a small grin, “Hm. Can we change the song now?”

Nate raises a brow because god; no one has ever disregard him. 

There’s something about the girl.

“Is Party In The USA good enough for you, princess?”

Her breath hitches. The last time someone has ever called her princess was probably a few weeks ago. 

This is not helping her to get over him.

“Whatever. You’re the DJ, right?” she answers, turning on her heels. “Oh wait, Nate?”

He smiles at her again, and (Y/N) has the urge to slap the smug look off his face.

“Don’t call me princess. You’re not my boyfriend.”

For the past 40 minutes, no Drake song has been playing. The crowd begins filling the empty space in the middle to dance with each other, and (Y/N) has to look away from the couple getting close and leaving kisses down each other’s necks.

She makes her way down to the drinks counter to get herself a beer because she really doesn’t feel like watching another friend of hers kissing their partners while sober. She decides that if she has to stay for another hour of people making out with each other, it’s better if she’s intoxicated.

“Hey.”

(Y/N) turns her back, expecting to see a drunk friend of hers, but the sight of the same DJ from before greets her.

She rolls her eyes, “I’m not asking you to change the music.”

“I know, I guess I started off wrong just now. Let me reintroduce myself. You deserve to know the real me.”

(Y/N) laughs, because this whole thing sounds like something out of a corny Netflix movie. He’s cute, sure, but she’s just not interested.

He removes the beanie he’s been wearing all night, revealing a blonde buzz cut underneath. (Y/N) tries not to stare.

Okay. Screw cute. He’s handsome. 

“Hi, I’m Nate. I’m from New York, and I just moved here.”

She smiles, finally, because he fits the exact image she has of every male teenager in New York. Blonde buzz cut, an unbuttoned blue shirt with a peak of his toned body underneath, and a pair of red shorts. 

A new kook.

“Nate, your kind and I don’t match. You’re a kook.”

He scrunches his face, “They’ve been telling me that shit since the first week I’ve been here-” he steps closer, and (Y/N) can smell his expensive cologne. It’s not the same one she favors on Rafe, but it’s close. “-don’t tell me you believe that stuff.”

Oh.

She grins, “I’m not rich, Nate.”

“So?”

Oh.

“The name’s (Y/N),” she smiles, extending her hand. Nate beams, because finally, after a whole night of watching her from his booth, she finally expresses the most beautiful smile there is. 

“(Y/N), I feel like we’re going to get closer soon.”

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

“I’m not a Drake’s fan either.”

. . .

(Y/N)’s hesitant. 

She doesn’t believe him in one bit, not even when he flashes her the most charming smile ever. 

But he’s not afraid to show her off. She went on a date with him a few nights ago, and she distanced herself from him upon the entrance of the restaurant.

“What the fuck are you doing? C’mere.”

(Y/N) looked up to him, “You don’t have to stay near with me.”

Nate turned to her with a confused expression. “Why? I’m buying you dinner, remember?”

He held her hands in his, and she let him.

Nate pokes her side and suppresses a giggle when she yelps from the sudden touch. He fails, however, when she falls from his bed onto the floor. 

“You’re too ticklish,” he says and helps her up to her feet. Her eyes wander to the band posters on his wall again, being so amazed and surprised by this boy’s taste in music and movies.

“I don’t even listen to half of the bands you listen to,” she says finally, pulling herself down to the empty space beside him. “Do you know who’s Ariana Grande?”

Nate rolls his eyes, “Ha-ha. No. I don’t. Is she the one who sang Despacito or something?”

(Y/N) laughs and her heart suddenly soars. She feels at ease, and there’s lightness in the air, even when they’re in public.

(Y/N) stands up, taking the full room into view again, and walks to the shelf full of pictures of Nate and his family. There’s a picture of him in a soccer jersey, a picture of him playing the drums and then an electric guitar, and-

“Oh my god, is this your girlfriend?” (Y/N) exclaims, picking up a photo frame with a beautiful brunette girl smiling back at her. “She’s so pretty.”

“(Y/N), put it back,” Nate rolls his eyes, standing up from the comfort of his bed and walking towards her. (Y/N) laughs, liking the way his eyebrows scrunch in distress and hides the photo frame behind her.

“(Y/N). . . I’m not playing.”

“No one is playing, Nate,” she laughs, taking a few steps back as he motions forward. “I can’t believe you have a sweetheart back in NYC, Nate.”

“(Y/N), put it back.”

(Y/N) pulls a confused expression, “Put what back?” she brings the frame forward, and expressed a fake sigh. “Oh, this? I was just checking this out-” Nate charges for her and she squeals, running towards the end of his room and watching as he runs in her direction. She panics, looking around for a place to hide, and as her eyes meet his bed, Nate has the same idea in his head.

He pushes her over his bed so she topples over, the frame still in her hands. She yelps, leaving the frame alone and using both of her hands to push his chest away. 

Nate hovers over her, being so close he can smell her sweet scent now, and she looks so good under his yellow lights and in his bed and that goddamn smirk on her face-

“Is she your girlfriend, Nate?”

“None of your concern, princess,” he answers. Her eyes snap down to the cross dangling from his neck, and he can’t do this anymore; not when she looks so pretty under his gaze.

(Y/N) can feel the sudden change in the air now, and the chasing game they’ve been playing suddenly doesn’t look like a chasing game.

He’s like a predator waiting to attack. 

(Y/N)’s eyes look up to him again. “Is she your girlfriend?”

And he connects his lips with her. She gasps from the sudden touch, but after a few seconds, he can feel her kissing him back. 

And for once, she feels okay again. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him close to her and letting his warmth engulfing her.

She feels at peace.

“Rafe,” she whispers, letting the blonde boy trails down to her neck.

Nate pulls away, his lips sore and red after their brief makeout session.

Chest heaving, he steps away. “Rafe?”

(Y/N) sits up, groaning and fixing her hair. “God, I’m so stupid. I don’t mean that, Nate, I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.”

Nate pulls a disgusted face, and it’s the same look Rafe had put in the party a few weeks ago to her and she can feel herself losing again. 

“I’m going out. You can stay here if you want.”

“Nate-”

The door closes behind him, and (Y/N) groans. 

Way to go, (Y/N).

. . .

She hates how bad she feels for Nate.

He has been nothing but a total sweetheart to her, and there she was; moaning another guy’s name and letting him walked out of his own home.

So that’s the core reason as to why she’s standing outside of his house at 10 p.m. on a Friday, letting the heavy rain soaks her whole outfit because of course she would forget to bring an umbrella.

She knocks again, with her fists this time, because she’s certain he hadn’t heard her. For a moment, she’s afraid his father or mother would open the door but after remembering how they’re going to be away for a business trip, she sighs in relief. 

The door opens midway of her banging on the door, revealing a shirtless Nate with nothing but green sweatpants complimenting his legs.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” he groans, tugging her arms in and closing the door after her. (Y/N) attacks him in a tight hug, slightly shivering from the cold rain outside, and after a few seconds, Nate hugs her back.

“You’re okay?”

“Can we talk in your room?”

“Uh, I don’t-”

(Y/N) doesn’t let him give any excuse and she pulls him into the living room, but before she can reach the space, he pulls her to a halt.

“Hey, we can’t go there, I’m kinda, um, doing something. What’s wrong?”

She sighs, “Nate, I’m so sorry, okay? I didn’t mean it when I called you someone else’s name and that’s the stupidest thing I ever did but please don’t go, okay? You’re all I have.”

Nate laughs, “God, you’re really worried about that? I get it, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

“It is, really. But tell me one thing, though-” he pulls her arms, and pins her against the wall. (Y/N) smiles, staring into his blue orbs. “Is this Rafe more handsome than me?”

“Hey man, we really can’t wait-” a voice starts from the direction of the living room, and before (Y/N) can move away, the voice rings again. “Ah. Of course.”

Oh my god.

She misses him too much. His hair is messier than ever, his eyes bloodshot and his nose red. (Y/N) wonders how many lines he did, but judging from the distant look in his eyes, she’s guessing a lot.

“Rafe,” she whispers, getting closer to the boy she missed and letting his smell engulf her. 

“Rafe?” Nate quirks a brow because this isn’t making any sense. Why would she called his friend the name-

Of course.

Rafael is Rafe.

So this is the guy.

His childhood friend is ‘the Rafe’ of the girl he’s starting to fall for.

After so many hours of trying to find the Rafe she accidentally called him, he hadn’t thought of his own childhood friend to be the guy all along.

Growing up, he have been told to call him Rafael up until the day he moved to New York. 

He can’t believe it.

“Rafe,” she calls again, this time following Rafe out to the living room. “Rafe, listen to me.”

“You moved on too fast.”

“I haven’t moved on, Rafe, fuck, I swear I haven’t,” she expresses. “Please. Listen to me.”

“You were mad at me for doing a line from some bitch’s back and you’re, you’re o-out here, under my own fucking friend’s arms and- did y’all fucked?”

“What?” she gasps, “God, Rafe, no. No. I will never fuck anyone other than you.”

“Yeah?” Rafe raises a brow and lets out a shrill laugh. “God, I don’t even know if I can trust you.”

“You can, Rafe,” she steps forward, trying to reach his face with her cold fingers. The anger she felt before suddenly dissipates into the thin air because god, she did not realize how much she has been missing this boy more than anything in the world.

Her everything.

Rafe flinches away, “Stop. Do you know how miserable I am the past few weeks without you?”

“Don’t turn this on me now, Rafe.” “And you’re out here with fucking Nate Hamilton. Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Rafe, it’s not like that,” Nate suddenly steps in, and (Y/N) gives him a warning look not to say anything more. He ignores her, “Are we not going to talk about how you disregard her just because of her status on this fucking island?”

“God, always with your equality shit,” Rafe groans. “You guys deserve each other. I can’t believe you will ever do this to me, Nate.”

What hurt Rafe more isn’t the fact that she was all pinned under his arms, but it was because Nate knew about their relationship. Rafe had told him everything about her ever since they first started dating, and he hadn’t just lost her tonight.

He lost his childhood friend too.

“I’m leaving,” he says, rubbing his nose and sniffing. Rafe isn’t sure how many lines he has done, but his mind is getting lighter and lighter and the lights are turning blurry. 

He can’t stand being in the same room as them. He will fucking drive if he has to.

(Y/N) bites her lips, trying to stop herself from bursting into tears. So they know each other? Why won’t Rafe ever tell her about him? Is this still her fault? She wasn’t even cheating on him. They’re not together.

Right?

Are they together?

“Hey, you’re okay?”

(Y/N) pulls her hands away, stepping away from the blonde boy and walking towards the exit. She has to leave this house as soon as possible. The once comforting bright color of the wall seems so dull and suffocating now, and she longs for the familiar blue paint of Rafe’s room.

She wants Rafe. 

No one else.

Just him.

“Just me?” Rafe smiled. “Hey, hey, I got a surprise for you.”

“Rafe, I hate surprises,” (Y/N) groaned, throwing her head back against the headrest. “You bought me a dress before!”

“Look-” he smiled, showing her a gold ring in a small velvet box. “It’s a ring.”

“Oh my god, it looks like yours!” (Y/N) exclaimed, clutching his hand with the ring and comparing the color. 

“Of course it’s the same ring. You’re my wife, I’m not going to buy you a different kind.”

“Wife?”

“What? Am I not your husband?”

(Y/N) wishes for nothing but Rafe. 

She presses on his contact again, turning her phone downside and moving the speaker nearer to her lips.

“Rafe, please call me back. I miss you, and we can fix this, okay? I didn’t know about Nate and I was so, so stupid. I can never replace you, Rafe. You’re mine, remember? Please. Call me back. I miss you.”

She sighs, setting her phone down on her lap and watches as the rain patters down her front windscreen heavily.

Love is a hell of a drug.

-

@okayshoto @joselyn001 @onceuponateenagetrash @dyingsleeping @iwannabeapogue @meaganjm @rafesobxs @flossy2929 @unfortunatekiwitrash @scottybitch @asimpwriter @amaya124 @tommy-tommo @thatshithurted8 @fallincindy @marvelwhor3 @rafeswh0ree @kookap @supernaturallydc-blog @blank-velvet @alaniskauany @kiiim8 @witchywrter @kaitlyn2907 @heyimflo @overcookedpastasause @tsukkiswifeey @spidey-d00d @anonymousobxfan @gotmeinloveagain @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @lexi-writes @classydragonthingknight @belongtoyou-u @badbussylol @savannah-elliott @angelreyesgirl100 @haterpenny @beehappyyy @alwaysclassyeagle @maybankslut @kayleea122 @clearbolts @lovelyxtom @christianaevans @jemimah-b99 @opierdalacz @dangerdolns @wildflowerliv @classygirlything21 @pogueslandia @alwaysclassyeagle @rottenstyx @wxn-drlst

[otptings]

Claws

▷Idol: Lee Jeno

▷Requested: Yessss Hiii another request again hehe sorry lawl but while I was getting acrylics I thought of a request lawl 😭😭 can you do something about when jeno saw the readers nails he thought about them scratching him and choking him and asking the reader if they can live out him fantasy lawl but because the reader doesn’t want to hurt him jeno whines and begs and tries convincing the reader it’ll make him feel good lawl Jdjdjdjjd it works lawl and they live it out 🥸🥸 I hope that makes sense

▷Genre: Smut

▷Word Count: 3.9k

▷Warnings: Yuna is mentioned once, sub!idol, nail kink?, mentions of crying, mentions of teasing, servicetop!Jeno, hand job, multiple orgasms (Jeno deserves it) , unprotected sex, cum eating, established relationship, overuse of the word puppy and pup (it's Jeno can you really blame me), cream pie, cockwarming, aftercare

▷Synopsis: Treating yourself is more than a habit, it's a life style. How were you to know that Jeno would be a little too into your acrylics?

▷A/n: Bonjourrrr everybody, my house arrest has been going greatly (jokes my cars just in the shop) and I had a lot of fun with writing this request. I actually did this whole thing from 4 am - 8 am (it is currently 8 am while im typing this, no I have not slept) so if there any mistakes it will be fixed later today after I get some sleep. I also did this backwards for some reason starting with the end before working on the beginning I really hope you that you like this and thank you for requesting. If you liked this please like, reblog or donate to my Ko-fi in my bio it'd mean a lot to me. Requests are open for NCT, SVT, and Treasure. Rules for requests are on my master list which is pinned. Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy

Treating yourself was one of your worst habits by far. Spending hundreds of dollars each week on clothes, skin care products, and various objects that you thought you needed but would surely forget about a few days after purchasing. With your spending habits it was a shock that you hadn’t run out of funds yet - and that your savings account was still intact. It was a bad tendency you had, buying whatever you wanted purely because you had the money for it, as a means of temporary happiness.

This newest thing you’ve treated yourself to was by far one of your favorites, and despite saying that often as an excuse for your various purchases this one held true to you. You got your nails done. Your past job hadn’t allowed you to get them, worried about the ‘safety concerns’ so you couldn’t get them without the risk of being written up. This new job you’ve gotten, thanks to Mark, working underneath of NCTs main choreographer, allows you to get your nails done as long as they aren't too long.

Within 24 hours of getting your first paycheck you were dragging Yuna - who thankfully had a free day - to the nail salon, walking out 2 hours later with your nails done.

“That’s such a pretty color.” Yuna nodded before sighing, upset that she was only allowed limited choices due to her upcoming comeback.

“Yours are prettier though. You could choose the color that you wanted.” Giggling you lifted your hands up, loving the way the color was brighter in the sun.

“I didn’t really choose them. Jeno did. By the way, can you take a picture of my nails? I really wanna show him.” Yuna took your phone from your outstretched hand, snapping multiple pictures of your nails, some to seriously show off your nails and others just to hopingly make Jeno laugh during dance practice.

Your photos may have had some unintended consequences.

Jeno was always happy to see a text from you, no matter how busy he was. So when he grabbed his water bottle, and saw a notification from you he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips.

“Aw look at Jeno smiling. His girlfriend probably texted him back.” Jeno only shook his head, flipping Haechan off and ignoring his group members' teasing and comments over being ‘whipped’. When they distracted themselves with some other random topic Jeno opened your message, taking a sip from his water bottle. A sip that he came to regret due to him choking on it as soon as he saw the various pictures that you’d sent him. Jeno was a very simple man, with very simple tests and a very healthy sex drive. Which is the only reason why when he saw his girlfriend’s nail, done in his favorite color, wrapped around a drink can his mouth instantly went dry and he attempted to expel the water from his mouth. He would never say he has a hand kink, but seeing that made his dick go to half chub extremely quickly. He couldn’t ignore his thought of your hand being wrapped around his dick the same way they were wrapped around the can, only now with the pretty shade complimenting it.

“Jeno you okay?” Mark was the first one to check on him after almost choking to death. Jeno could only raise his hand, giving him a thumbs up and a smile that he was hoping was convenient enough. It was, because Mark only gave him a half hearted pat on the back. “Come on, our breaks almost  over.” Jeno quickly turned off his phone, taking a proper sip from his water before standing up. Praying that practice would be over quickly.

It was not.

For the remaining three hours of practice Jeno couldn’t focus properly, his thoughts were solely about you and your new nails. Primarily how they’d feel when you wrapped them around his neck, scratching lightly on the skin of his neck. You always loved to leave bruises on him, sucking on his neck and scraping your teeth across the sensitive skin directly underneath his ear, how would the blue look with the purple and red bruises? Or how would they look when you dragged your nails down his abs, scratching over his skin before playing with his nipples, pinching them and gently biting on them. They’re sharp enough to definitely leave scratch marks, how bad would they hurt if you broke the skin.

“Aight good job today guys. Your next practice is on Monday because of your performance on Tuesday. It’ll be two hours as normal. See you then.” Jeno snapped back just in time to bow to their choreographer, muttering a quick thank you. After packing up his stuff in an astounding three seconds Jeno breezed past the boys, ignoring all of their invitations for dinner - getting drunk - and their inquisitive looks. Something they would surely be questioning in the groupchat later tonight. Jeno didn’t care. All he was concerned with was rushing back home, ignoring the curious and dirty glances thrown by the people who he just barely missed hitting in passing.

Jeno was rushing home. You on the other hand?

You were already at home, sipping on your green tea while waiting for Jeno to get back home. Fridays were movie nights, something the two of you looked forward two with your hectic work weeks. Even though you occasionally worked together this time alone was important for the both of you. So you were patiently waiting for Jeno to get home, Netflix was already set up on the tv in your room, and all of the snacks were already ready to be made on the kitchen counter.

That was until Jeno barged into the apartment as if something was chasing him. You weren’t shocked for Jeno to appear in the doorway, but it was a shock for you to see him in this state.

“Jeno puppy, are you okay? Your face is bright red,” Setting your cup of tea down on the nightstand you walked up to him, placing your hand on his cheek, feeling how hot his skin was to the touch. There was a slight height difference between you two, so you had to stand on your tiptoes to properly brush his hair out of his face. He seemed to be trembling, and your concern was only growing by the minute. You slightly fell forward, Jeno grabbed your waist to help you keep your balance and whimpered slightly.

That wasn’t normal. Then you realized what the problem was, you couldn’t hide the smirk that spread over your lips.

“Oh. My puppy’s just hard, hm?” Standing flat on the ground you placed your hand over his erection, that was properly straining against his sweatpants by now, squeezing it. Jeno swore that he felt as if he was struck by lightning when you did that, his knees buckling almost forcing him to the ground. He hadn’t realized just how hard he’d gotten since practice, but with the fantasies constantly running through his head he wouldn’t be surprised if the boys called him out on that too in the groupchat. “Is there a reason?”

Jeno couldn’t bring himself to speak, still too turned on to breath properly, and only able to nod his head. That was enough for you to lead him over to the bed, changing your positions so that when you pushed him the back of the bed hit his knees, forcing him to sit down. Straddling his waist you loosely draped your arms over his shoulders, fighting the urge to just take him then and there at his poor attempt at stifling his groan from you hovering over his erection. You started to lean forward, hovering your lips over his, forcing Jeno to meet your lips if he wanted a kiss. He never disappointed.

For once Jeno was needy. As soon as your lips met he was trying to deepen it, licking at the seam of your lips in an attempt to stick his tongue in your mouth. Sliding your hand into his hair you yanked it, causing him to let out a loud whimper. “Who’s in charge here?”

“You.” Jeno whined.

“Good, so behave.” All that left his mouth was another whine, much to your satisfaction when you kissed him again he didn’t try to deepen it, allowing you to have full control. Now that Jeno was relaxed, your lips moved in perfect sync, an easy byproduct of dating for a couple months. Loosening your grip on his hair Jeno sighed into the kiss, especially at the way that you nipped at his bottom lip. Mindlessly Jeno opened his mouth, allowing you to slide your tongue in and map the inside of his mouth. You decided to try something new, and gently scratched his scalp causing Jeno to shudder. Pulling away from the kiss you smiled in a way that could only be described as feline before dropping down to his neck, mouthing along the expanse of clear skin.

“Baby.” Jeno let out a breathy moan, squeezing your waist tightly at the feeling of your teeth scraping over the sensitive skin of his neck. You were careful not to leave any marks, but the feeling of your sharp teeth was enough for his hips to buck unconsciously, causing you to let out a quiet moan at the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your clothed cunt.

“You’re so hard puppy. What were you thinking about?” You leaned back enough so that you could see his expression, knowing that he tends to be shy about expressing himself sexually. Placing your hand on his cheek you rubbed it sweetly, waiting for him to get the confidence to tell you. “Is it something new?” Jeno’s lack of answer was all the answer that you needed. His lack of eye contact started to get to you, so you gently grabbed his chin forcing him to look at you. “I’ll only go as far as you let me, okay? You don’t have to tell me, but if you don’t we won’t be able to do it.” Jeno took a deep breath, before muttering out his fantasy.

“It’s about your nails.” You nodded, showing him that you were listening. “I want you to choke me, and scratch me.” You struggled to keep your neutral expression, not wanting to discourage him but you were very shocked.

You’ve only recently started having sex, and it’s only been a month of your new sub and dom arrangement. The furthest you two have gotten in your little game of cat and mouse was discussing your boundaries, and that talk had taken over an hour of coaxing from an extremely nervous Jeno. You hadn’t experimented with the bdsm aspect of your sex life yet due to Jeno’s extreme shyness over being submissiveness, due to this sex is typically sweet and loving. Now Jeno was actually asking you to try something in bed? You were definitely going to nurture his confidence.

“My puppy has a little fantasy about my nails?” Jeno nodded as his brush started to darken along his cheeks and spread to the tips of his ears. “You’ll have to guide me through your fantasy pup. Are you okay with that?” Jeno looked a little apprehensive at that aspect. He wasn’t a big talker in bed, opting instead for his whines and whimpers. You were going to make him as comfortable as possible during this process, which starts simple.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Matcha.”

“If you want to slow down, what do you say?”

“Yellow.” A sense of pride went through you as you nodded her head. Just the thought that Jeno was comfortable enough to try something in bed made you happy.

“If you are uncomfortable at any time, say either of your safewords. I may be your dom, but you’re the one in control. Understand pup?” Jeno mumbled a quiet yes and you couldn’t help but to pull him into another kiss. It was a little sweeter than the situation called for but you needed him to understand how proud of him you were. Pulling away from the kiss you ran your fingers through his hair once before deciding it was time to treat your puppy.

“How does your fantasy start?” The blush seemed to come back ten times worse at that and you had to fight the urge to giggle, not wanting to discourage him.

“With you running your nails down my chest.” Grabbing the hem of his shirt you helped him take it off, tossing it across the room. You didn’t wait to carry out his request, gently scratching your middle finger down his pecs. Dragging your nail lightly around both of his nipples before making your way down to his abs. Seeing the goosebumps erupt over his skin was incredibly pleasing, accompanied by the shudder as you made your way back up to play with nipples.

“What next pup?” When it took too long for Jeno to answer you glanced up, seeing the nervous look again. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with this puppy?”

“You played with me.” His rushed answer surprised you.

“Gotta be more specific than that. What’s next?” Jeno swallowed the saliva that seemed to be pooling in his mouth.

“My cock, you jerked me off.” Hearing your sweet boyfriend say such vulgar words did something to you, but you just brushed it, knowing you’ll have your chance later. Wasting no time you pulled down his sweatpants and boxer, tossing them in the same direction as his shirt. Normally this is where you’d do all of your teasing. Leaving hickeys on his unmarked thighs, kissing and biting the pale skin until he was crying and begging for more. Tonight you’d treat him sweetly instead.

The sight of his pretty cock was something that you’d never get used to. There was no reasoning for his cock to be just as pretty as he was, everything about Jeno was perfect. He was a nice length, hitting deep inside of you with every thrust, and he was so thick that sometimes when you were rather impatient and wouldn’t let him properly get you ready it was a stretch that you could and would feel for days. Now looking at the pretty pink tip with a perfect bead of precum at the tip all you wanted was to have it in your mouth. But today you were listening to Jeno, and he said that all you did was jerk him off. Opening your hand you offered it to Jeno who just looked at you confused.

“Spit. Unless you want me to jerk you dry?” Jeno shook his hand, spitting in your hand which you quickly followed behind doing the same. Wrapping your hand around his thick cock you savored the way his breathy moan, you had barely touched him and he was already this affected. You started to jerk him off, making sure to watch his expression with every slow stroke. You could never get enough of the way that he bit his lip trying to hold back his moans, or the way that he balled up his hands in order to resist the urge to touch you. The steady flow of precum from his tip was helping lubricate your strokes. It finally hit you what Jeno was staring at, he was staring at your nails the whole time you were jerking him off. “Aww does puppy like the way my nails look around his cock?” A loud whine left his mouth as he closed his eyes for the first time. Bingo.

“You like the way the blue looks against your cock? I chose it just because of you baby.” That was all the talking that Jeno needed apparently because before you knew it he was spurting out thick ropes of white cum, whining so loudly that you wouldn’t be surprised if you got a noise complaint. You giggled at the sight in front of you, his cum coating his stomach and softening cock, skin flushed from his orgasm. You wiped the cum off of his stomach, placing your cum covered fingers at his lip. Jeno obeyed easily, sucking your fingers into his mouth and cleaning the cum from them. You allowed Jeno a couple of minutes to relax from his orgasm.

“Was that all to your fantasy baby?” Post orgasm seemed to bring back the shyness in Jeno, as his cheeks started to look pink again. Jeno shook his head before staring down at his lap.

“Do you want to finish it today? We can always do it another day.”

“Can we please finish it?” Nodding your head you stood in between Jeno’s legs, placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

“What happens next puppy?”

“You choked me while riding me. And then you scratched me hard. Hard enough to draw blood.” This time there was no hiding the shock on your face. Jeno actually wanted you to hurt him? Enough to draw blood? You were all for fulfilling his fantasy but this was not anything like you were expected. Choking was a part of the boundaries you’d talked about, Jeno would tell you when he wanted you to. That was inevitable. But he wanted you to actually scar him?

“Are you positive Jeno?” Jeno nodded his head quickly.

“Please. This is what I want.” You shook your head.

“I can’t hurt you. We can do everything else, but we need to talk about your boundaries after this Jeno.” The pout covering Jeno’s voice was enough for you to want to cave but you knew you couldn’t, not with something as serious as this. “Jeno if you pout we won’t do anything else. You know I don’t reward brats.” That got Jeno to behave, dropping his pout and nodding his head in understanding.

Shaking your head you dropped the conversation, focused on helping fulfill the rest of his fantasy. It didn’t take long to get Jeno hard, just simply stroking his cock and nipping along the sensitive skin of his neck and chest was enough to get him rock hard. Standing up you quickly get rid of your clothes, being entirely too overdressed before settling back on his lap. Just from taking care of Jeno you were soaking wet.

Riding Jeno is always a task, powering through the stretch from Jeno’s thick cock as you start to bounce on it, feeling it go so deep inside of you that you swear if you looked down you’d see it in your stomach. You couldn’t help but clench around his cock, causing him to whimper from the sensitivity that was still there from his previous orgasm. Placing your hand on both of his shoulders you used it as leverage to start fucking yourself on his cock faster, twirling your hips, pulling moans out of the both of you. You almost forgot about the second part to his fantasy, the choking. You slowed your bouncing, only swirling your hips and grinding down on Jeno’s cock. Running one of your hands over his chest you flicked his nipple. Loving the whimper that he let out before sliding your hand up the base of his neck, swiftly grabbing the sides of his neck and squeezing gently. You didn’t know that Jeno would like being choked this much, especially not enough for his eyes to roll back.

The pleasure from riding Jeno always outweighed the physical cons. That’s why despite your hips and thighs starting to burn from the overexertion, and your legs shaking you continued to ride him, the drag of his cock against your walls too pleasurable for you to even think about stopping. The only thing keeping you going is the tight grip you have on one of Jeno’s shoulders, trying not to put too much pressure on his neck.

Jeno must’ve realized how shaky your pace had become because he flipped the both of you. A loud gasp left your mouth when your back hit the soft blanket. You attempted to call out his name due to the shock, but his first thrust made it come out as a breathy moan.

When had Jeno gotten brave enough to take control? That was only a  fleeting thought because after that each of his strokes were filled with determination. To be in control? To pleasure you? To make you cum? None of it mattered truthfully, the only thing that mattered was you wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a kiss. An extremely messy kiss that left saliva over both of your mouths but a kiss nonetheless. In this new position he could only give you short, aborted thrusts but each thrust rubbed against your g spot perfectly causing you to cry out in pleasure.

“Close. S’close.” You dug your nails into Jeno’s back at the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you, steadily bringing you closer and closer to your orgasm. Jeno groaned at the feeling of your nails breaking the skin just like he asked, he knew that you didn’t mean it but it brought him closer to his orgasm all the same. “Puppy, cum in me.”

That phrase must’ve hit deep with Jeno because before where his thrusts were determined but still a little shy, they were now powerful. His hips slapping against yours with his newly adopted brutal pace that caused tears to come to your eyes. All you could feel was overwhelming pleasure at the feeling of being fucked so deeply. You weren’t fully aware of when you came, blacking out slightly from your intense orgasm, but you were aware of the feeling of Jeno’s warm cum filling you up and his soft groans as he fucked it deep inside of you, riding out both of your orgasms.

Jeno couldn’t bring himself to properly pull out of you, instead rolling over and pulling you close to his chest. Snuggling your head into his chest you ignored the disgusted feeling of sweat over both your bodies, focusing on getting the strength in your legs so that you could force your gigantic puppy of a boyfriend into the bathroom for some well needed aftercare especially to his back.

After about five minutes you could not ignore the uncomfortable feeling of his cum, and his softening cock rubbing against your sensitive walls. Plus the sheen of sweat was starting to make you feel grimy.

“Come on Jeno. We both need a bath.” Jeno groans before allowing you to pull him out of bed and into the bathroom. Turning on the water and allowing it to fill the tub before adding bubble bath and some epsom salts - kept around for Jeno’s after practice soreness. Climbing into the bathtub with Jeno between your knees, keeping your arms wrapped around after gently cleaning all of the cum and sweat. Placing sweet kisses to his forehead, and making him turn his head so that you can place even more to his lips. “So sorry for scratching your back so hard, I didn’t want to do that before talking about boundaries but I lost control.”

“I asked for it.”

“But we needed to have another talk about your boundaries before it happened. But I’m proud of you for being comfortable with me baby. I am so happy that I have the sweetest boyfriend who’s always willing to try new things. I love you.” Jeno’s blush came back ten times harder, accompanied by him playing with your fingers before intertwining your fingers.

“I love you too. Thank you for trying my fantasy.” You place a kiss on his hair before gently dragging your hands over his chest, giggling when he smacked your hand away before it could reach his nipple.

“Maybe I should get my nails done more often.”

[idy-ll-ique]

His Lovely Girl.

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x F!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Requested: nope

Warnings: insecurity

Summary: Sebastian spoils her all the time. What has she ever done for him? When someone leaves a rude comment under her Instagram post, she can't help but rethink her entire relationship with the handsome actor.

Author's Note: Hiya peeps! We're back to Marvel lol, enjoy!

---

"I'll see you later, dove, have fun!" Y/N grinned when her boyfriend leaned over, pressing his lips to her forehead. "Bye, Seb, I'll miss you," she whispered and he looked down at her, his heart swelling in his chest, full of appreciation for her. He loved her so much. "I'll miss you too, Y/N, but I'll only be gone for around 6 hours." Y/N pouted and he couldn't help it.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers in a chaste kiss. "I know. Go now, I don't want to be the reason you're late." He laughed heartily when she pushed him away with a smile. "Oh, doll, everyone knows about us, they'll know anyway." With that, he waved at her and left the apartment they shared. Y/N had moved in with him 2 years into dating.

Sebastian Stan; let's just say, he was a busy man. Y/N sighed and got up from the bed, feeling hungry. They had started dating 4 years ago, and what years those were; the most blissful ones in both their lives. They loved each other to death, and they knew that. Y/N waddled into the kitchen and looked around the various cabinets, finding a box of Mac and Cheese.

It was a funny story, actually, how they met. Y/N, at the time, was working as a barista at Starbucks. One day, Sebastian had walked into the Starbucks where she worked, and she was the one who took his order. He was extremely polite, funny and a bit awkward and just like that, she fell in love with him all over again. Y/N was a Marvel geek and Sebastian had noticed.

"I really like your hoodie, doll, where'd you get it?" he had asked her after telling her his order. And she had looked down, seeing the custom-made hoodie she wore. It was black in colour, but one of the sleeves was silver and had a red star on the bicep, just like his arm from the movie Captain America: Winter Soldier.

Bucky's trigger words were printed on the front of the hoodie. She had blushed furiously, simultaneously cursing and thanking her fate and coincidence. "I had it custom made," she had told him at the time and he had grinned so wide he thought his mouth would tear open. That was the moment where he, too, realized that he was getting a crush on the pretty barista.

And he hadn't hesitated to ask her for her number. He had taken a tissue paper, scribbled his number down and had written what's yours? ;) underneath. When he went to pay for his coffee, he purposely made sure that he wasn't giving her any change. With his notes, he slid her the tissue and she took it, giving him a confused look.

When she read it, her breath hitched. While pulling out his change, she had discreetly written her number down on the tissue, saved his on her phone and had given the tissue back to him with the coins. Both of them had grinned widely at each other when he left. While walking home, he had taken out the tissue and had seen her number written neatly under his. And his heart raced, Y/N is worth it.

---

*@yn_yln posted a photo*

4,583 likes

yn_yln Mac and Cheese, anyone? :D

Y/N smiled and logged out of her Instagram account after posting the photo. She just couldn't resist; she looked good that day, one of those days where she felt confident enough to post a picture. She kept her phone away and sauntered into the sitting room to watch something on the television. An hour passed before she yawned, feeling tired.

2:05 pm, her watch displayed. Well, there's no harm in an afternoon nap, am I right? Sebastian wasn't home anyway, and it's not like she had anything to do. Grabbing her phone off the dining table, she walked into hers and Sebastian's shared bedroom, plopping down on the bed. She decided to check her Instagram before falling asleep and opened the said app.

She went through the page that displayed all the likes and comments, pausing at one comment. Her heart dropped as she clicked on the comment, her entire being filling with an uneasy feeling. You're only dating him for the money, admit it. Until then, she had never even thought… about that. Throwing her phone to the side she sat up, breathing heavily.

Y/N was currently jobless. After they started going out, she continued working at Starbucks until last year; Sebastian had suggested that she leave the job and work somewhere better, earn a higher salary. Y/N had discarded the idea at first, since the job paid enough for her to go about her daily things and where would she even find another job?

Starbucks was okay. But Sebastian wouldn't hear it. So she left the job, now jobless. She had applied to a few places but hadn't received any news as of yet. They're right. I'm living off of him. I don't even have a job. What does it look like? A broke woman dating a rich, handsome guy? Oh my God, am I leeching off his hard work? All those thoughts rushed through her head in a span of a few seconds.

The more she thought about it, the more she teared up. Blinking the tears away, she lay back down and curled up under the comfortable blankets. His blankets. She closed her eyes, trying her hardest to fall asleep but the tears were proving it to be difficult. Fortunately, she drifted off into an uneasy slumber 15 minutes later.

---

"Baby, I'm home!"

Silence. Sebastian frowned, carefully walking into the house. "Y/N?" he called out but there was no answer. Keeping the bag he was holding away, he walked further into the apartment, stopping at the doorway of their bedroom. "Aw," he whispered under his breath, smiling, stepping into the bedroom. He gently sat next to his sleeping girlfriend.

His knuckles traced her cheeks but he froze. Why is she so cold? His soft touch was enough to wake her up, because she stirred and blinked up at him. "Seb, hi, welcome back." Her voice was hoarse. "Y/N? Did you fall sick?" he asked worriedly as she sat up, distancing herself from him. "I'm not sick," she muttered but Sebastian wouldn't buy it.

He reached out to cup her cheek, feeling like he had been stabbed multiple times when she leaned away from his touch. "Y/N?" She shook her head and looked out of the window, bringing her knees to her chest. "Just wanna be alone right now." She didn't want to send him away. She wanted to sit in his lap, listen to him rambling about his day…

But she also didn't want to be near him. Do I even deserve him? "What happened?" he insisted, his eyes going wide when she glared at him. "Go. Away." He scrambled off the bed without another word, softly closing the door behind him as he walked into the sitting room, running a hand through his hair. He sat down on the couch and looked around.

What happened in those 6 hours that he was away? Sebastian knew she wasn't on her cycle, it still had another week to come. So it wasn't mood swings. His eyes landed on the empty bowl of Mac and Cheese sitting on the dining table but they skimmed right past it, not knowing that that bowl was the reason for Y/N's sadness. Then he stared at the designer handbag on the opposite couch.

Picking up the bag, he strode back to their room, knocking on the door. Maybe seeing a pretty purse would lighten her mood? "What?" Y/N called out from inside and he opened the door, holding the purse up. "I brought you a gift." Y/N's heart started thudding in her chest and tears glistened in her eyes anew as she stared at the bag with utmost resentment.

"I don't want it."

Sebastian went rigid. She never rejects my gifts. "Y/N—" She started shaking her head. "No. Return it. I'm not taking it. I don't want it," she repeated, her glare now directed at him. "But doll…" he tried, freezing when her jaw clenched. "Get out." Disheartened, he walked out once more, more confused than anything. Now I have to know what happened.

Inside the room, Y/N sobbed silently. The bag was so pretty, her favorite color, the sleek design… she wanted to keep it so bad, but she knew she wasn't worthy of it. Sebastian brought her gifts all the time. Most of them expensive as shit; he had the money to blow off. What had she done for him? Nothing, really. He spoiled her heartily, never once allowing her to do the same.

"You're mine, baby girl, mine to love, mine to cherish, mine to spoil."

She was definitely leeching off him. Outside the room, Sebastian took out his phone and texted Y/F/N, who was Y/N's closest friend. They rarely spoke, but Y/N told Y/F/N everything and he knew she'd have answers.

hey, do you know what's up with y/n

why what happened

she's in a really bad mood

she's angry at me and I brought her a gift but she won't take it

she usually loves them but today…

OH WAIT

I know what happened

she texted me in the afternoon

something about a comment on Instagram or something

ig that's why she's in a bad mood

oh

thanks

I'll check it out

He ended the conversation and opened Instagram, seeing a new post from his dear girlfriend. Sebastian couldn't help but smile as he liked the photo, commenting a heart emoji. There were only around 22 comments on the post, so he decided to go through them. Which comment had triggered her? He found it instantly and his nostrils flared.

Replying to the fairly rude comment, he typed, how about you fuck off and mind your own damn business? If you don't like her, unfollow and leave. There's literally nothing else you need to do. After hitting send, he kept his phone away and, determination shining in his eyes, ran back to the bedroom.

He threw open the door and a sob escaped the lips of the startled woman. He started taking off the annoying clothes he was wearing until he was just in his boxers, sliding into the bed next to her. She attempted to push him away but the strong man didn't budge, holding her on his lap as she thrashed. Soon, she gave up the fight and melted against him, crying her eyes out.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again and again, her breath hitching. "Hush, baby, it's okay, I'm not mad," he whispered, rubbing her back, helping her calm down. She rested her head on his shoulder, her arms tight around him. "Tell me the truth. What happened?" he asked even though he knew the answer. Tiredly, Y/N narrated everything; from the comment to all her insecurities.

Sebastian gently cupped her cheeks, wiping her tears off. "Y/N, you're mine. I love taking care of you, I love spoiling you, and I don't do it because I expect something in return, I do it because I love you. Don't listen to strangers on the internet, what better work do they have? Nothing but lowlifes. You don't have to do anything for me. I don't want you to do anything for me."

"But Seb…"

"No. No, you're my girlfriend and only the best for my girl. I love all the gifts you get me. I cherish them wholeheartedly. Just you being my girl is a gift better than anything else in the world, to be honest. But I'm going to continue looking after you whether you like it or not. You don't even have to go to work, I'm here for you. I love you." Y/N teared up again.

They were happy tears.

"I love you so much," she cried weakly and Sebastian pulled her to him, cradling her head, breathing her in. "I love you too, doll. Now will you take my gift, please?" She nodded against him and he gently lowered her on the bed, going outside to get the bag. Once back in their room he handed the bag to her, smiling at the way her eager hands reached up to accept the gift.

As he watched her admiring the bag, he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her, till death do them part.

His girl, his lovely girl.

---

A/N: Leave a like if you enjoyed, thanks for reading!

[christowhore]

Making You Mine

pairing: chris evans x professor!fem!reader, chris evans x oc!female (brief)

summary: you and chris have your first date.

word count: 3.0k

warnings: !!! 18+ minors dni !!! slight smut, fluff, age gap (reader is 28, chris is 39) suggestive conversation, two dorks in love, alcohol consumption, heavy making out, dry humping, orgasms, rpf

notes: ngl to y’all i didn’t even mean to make it include some smut, but i ended up getting carried away. this is the second part of the ‘Pining for Professor’ series. i hope you all enjoy it and make sure to let me know what you think! *i do not give consent for this fic to be reposted or translated*

join my taglist !

MAIN MASTERLIST • SERIES MASTERLIST

The next few days that passed after your encounter seemed to fly by. You were busy working on your dissertation while Chris was attending ASP interviews.The two of you would text from time to time, just keeping the other updated about your life.

Chris had planned the evening out. Before considering what meal he wanted to make you, he made sure to ask you about any dietary concerns or allergies that you might have, and he was thankful that he did. You informed him that the only food allergy you had was apples. Part of him thought you were joking because he never heard of that being a restriction one could face, but after sending him a photo of one of your allergic reactions, he trashed every single apple he had stored in his fridge. A dramatic reaction, yes, but he wanted to make sure you were both completely safe and comfortable.

He decided on making a simple pasta dinner, something easy that he believed he couldn’t possibly mess up. It wasn’t until he was googling wine pairings when he remembered the woman he was supposed to have this same evening with just a few days ago; Lindsey.

Chris had been so preoccupied with you that he completely forgot about the woman. Looking at his phone and opening their messages, he saw that he had been accidentally ghosting her for the past three days. Not knowing how to deliver the news, he decided it would be best to break things off over the phone than through a text.

Clicking on her contact, he dialed her number and listened to the dial tone ring in his ear. He was pondering on what to say when he heard her voice through the phone. “Hey stranger, I was wondering when you were gonna call me back.”

“Hey Lindsey, sorry I got a little busy with life. Can we talk?”

For about the next five minutes, Chris tried his best to not give the cliche ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ excuse, but in the end he had to explain to the woman how he met somebody else, you, and that he didn’t want to string her along any longer. The call ended with some harsh words from her which he expected. Even though he hated that he hurt her feelings, in the end all he kept thinking about was you.

A couple miles away from his home, you were at your house going through your entire wardrobe trying to find the perfect outfit to wear. Did you want to go the fancy route and wear a nice dress or something casual like jeans and a blouse? Even though Chris told you the plans he had scheduled for your rendezvous, you were still feeling nervous about the whole affair.

Thankfully with the help of your friends, they were able to ease your worries and help you out with your ensemble.

The night before the planned evening, the two of you lay awake, plagued with nerves. Worried about messing up and ruining the chance to be with the other.

With how his morning started the day of his previously planned affair, Chris made sure that nothing could stand in the way of tonight. He had his suit pressed, the ingredients needed for the meal prepped, and a bouquet of red roses bought fresh from the florist resting in a vase of water. Scott went with Dodger over to his sister Shanna’a house, leaving the home to himself.

The day proceeded quickly and soon enough it was time for the date. You agreed to drive over and meet him at his home, arriving there around eight in the evening.

Walking up to the home and knocking on the door, you kept cracking your knuckles, a nervous tick of yours whenever you got anxious. Once the entryway was opened and Chris stepped into your sight, all of those pesky jitters suddenly left your body.

Chris was clad in a tailored black suit that clung to his frame. The white button up he donned was crisp and clean, you could make out a few of his tattoos peeking through the material. Accessorizing his attire, he wore a black and silver watch, the silver in the band matching the Saint Christopher medallion clasped around his neck showing through the opening of his top. His hair was perfectly gelled, making him look fresh out of a photo shoot.

He looked absolutely delectable and part of you didn’t even care about the meal, you just wanted to know how the material of his clothes felt against your skin.

When Chris opened up his door he knew you’d be there, beautiful as ever but he didn’t expect the sight that he was met with.

Your regularly curly hair was straightened, cascading off your shoulders and perfectly framing your face. The makeup you applied made your features light up. He took notice of the lipgloss you put on and all he wanted to do was grab you and taste the substance that was lucky enough to touch your lips.

Looking your body up and down, he noticed your black silk dress, a tie in the middle cinching the material together. The material stopped at your mid thighs revealing your velvety smooth legs and high heeled shoes. Thoughts of him trailing his hands up the sides of your calves while he pinned you below him flashed in his mind. Quickly he shook the image out of his mind to put back all of his attention on you.

“You look absolutely breathtaking,” he whispered in awe.

“You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As you entered his home, he placed a hand on the small of your back tugging your frame into him so he could place a kiss on your cheek. The same butterflies you experienced when he pecked you that night in the parking lot reappeared by the dozens.

The smell of sautéing onions and garlic filled your senses, instantly making your stomach lurch around. “Whatever it is you're making smells amazing,” you commented to the brunette.

He bashfully smiled, “Thank you, I’m almost finished, though I should let you know I’m not the greatest cook.”

You laughed at his comment, unconsciously placing your palm against his upper arm. “It’s alright Chris, at least you have your looks right?”

It was his turn to laugh, your playful matter had him buzzing.

The two of you made your way through the kitchen, him to the front of the stove while you sat in the high chair behind the counter top. Before he returned to cooking the vegetables, he grabbed the bouquet of red roses he had ordered and handed them to you, a smile instantly appearing on your face.

You thanked him for his generosity and the two of you continued on in lively conversation while he focused back on finishing dinner.

Laughter filled the room while you two chatted in his living room. You two had finished dinner, Chris making a wonderful shrimp scampi that even he was surprised tasted good.

Even though you spent three hours talking that evening in your office, you two didn’t have any difficulty finding new topics to explore.

You spoke about your family and how life was growing up without siblings. How it felt being at an advanced academic level at such a young age, which allowed you the opportunity of being employed at the university at 21. Surprisingly, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around the man, something that you had never done before. It was something about his demeanor. His presence was inviting and captivating, and all you wanted to do was continue to be around the actor.

Chris was at a loss of words with how to describe how you made him feel. You had such a hypnotizing way to yourself. He would listen to your laugh and drink it in as if it were the last time his ears would be blessed with the sound. Your smile was so genuine, stretching from ear to ear and all he wanted to do was keep that look on your face till the end of his days. He didn’t know he was staring at you until you waved in front of his face, regaining his attention.

“Earth to Evans. Are you okay there?” Your eyebrows were slightly furrowed while you stared intently into his eyes, waiting for his response. He didn’t even think about the next words that came out of his mouth when he spoke.

“I know that we just met last week, and this is only our first date, but would you do me the honor of being able to call you my girlfriend?”

The statement that was rushed out of his mouth had you choke on your glass of wine. Regaining your composure, you set the drink down and looked up at Chris.

There wasn’t any humor in his eyes, just determination as well as a bit of trepidation.

You were about to speak when he started up again. “Usually when meeting someone, I go on about two to three dates with them. Get to know them and go through the ‘what if’s’ possibilities. But with you I realized I can’t wait that long. The only thing I care about is being able to see that smile on your face, and have the melodic sound of your laugh ingrained in my life. And I don’t want to waste another second trying to determine ‘what if’ we’re not a match when I already know that you’re the one for me.”

This time you were the one at a loss of words. Emotions wrangle throughout your body. You were nervous, but the nerves that stood on end were due to the fact of being scared of how quickly you were falling for him.

Without saying anything but donning a beaming grin, you nodded.

Chris immediately leant forward and molded his lips with yours. The kiss was soft and delicate. His right hand slightly cupped your cheek, and in that moment you felt safe, you felt at ease. There was no other place the two of you wanted to be than right there in each other’s embrace.

When you pulled away it felt like time was at a standstill, nothing else mattered but the two of you being together. Even though he wasn’t a photographic person, Chris felt this overwhelming need to document this moment.

He quickly pulled out his phone and asked you if it were okay to take a photo of the two of you, a personal keepsake so to speak. You nuzzled into his side, shoulders touching, breaths fanning across each other’s face. Chris extended his hand with the camera app open and aimed towards the two of you. Though you were looking at the screen, a beaming grin stretched across your features, he was only looking at you. Admiring you as if you were his entire world, which you were slowly but surely becoming. Snapping the photo, he locked his phone and tucked it away back into his slacks.

With the close proximity you two shared, he took advantage of the opportunity to kiss you again. He was desperate to feel you, touch you, taste you. The flavor of your strawberry lip gloss inviting him in.

You melted into him, hands gripping the lapels of his jacket pulling him closer into you. He leaned into your touch, causing the two of you to lay back against his couch.

His hips were slotted in between your legs, crotch rubbing against your warm core. The friction drawing out a low moan from your chest.

He continued to feverishly attack your mouth. This kiss was different from the first. This was pure hunger. You two were desperate to feel the other. His tongue slotted into your mouth, tasting the leftover remnants of the Pinot Grigio you consumed. Notes of grapes and honeysuckles on your tongue made him push deeper. The intoxicating taste and the effects of the alcohol had him unconsciously grinding into you, rubbing his cock against your covered mound.

You ran your hands across the expanse of his body. Rubbing his arms, slightly gripping his ass, tangling your hands into the brown tuffs of his hair, you couldn’t get enough. He felt amazing against you. The rubbing of his hips were drawing out moans that you didn’t even try to suppress due to the unwavering desire you felt towards him. You felt him lift your leg up, giving himself more room to rut against you. The movement caused your dress to hike up, showing the lace of your black thong to your now boyfriend.

The two of you continued with your actions. Tongue slapping against each other as you sloppily tasted the other. The movements of his hips against your cunt accelerated to a rigorous pace when he felt a wet patch growing on your panties.

You felt like honey teenagers, dry humping each other like a pair of desperate virgins, but in that moment it was perfect.

Drawing away from each other, Chris nestled his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath sending shockwaves of arousal straight to your core.

You were both close to reaching your respective peak, your moans were getting wilder and his hips were becoming unruly.

It only took a few more bumps of his crotch against your covered clit for you to gush in your panties. An erotic moan left your lips and filled the room while your back arched, pushing your breasts against his chest.

Hearing the near pornographic sound that left your body, while feeling your peer nipples press against his front allowed him to reach his release as well. Biting down against the column of your neck, he came in his pants, filling his boxer briefs with his seed.

Chris collapsed on top of your panting body, the two of you trying to regain a steady breath. He lay there in your arms, your nails dragging along the nape of his neck.

When he finally regained composure, Chris raised up on his palms and looked down at you. And as if your minds were synced up, you both erupted in a fit of giggles.

After coming down for your laugh attacks, you excused yourself to the bathroom to freshen up.

You stood in front of the mirror, examining your reflection. There was still some adrenaline flowing through your bloodstream causing your hands to slightly shake. Your lips were red and swollen due to the attack on them moments prior. But what you couldn’t ignore was the dopey smile that seemed to take permanent residence on your face. You felt like a giddy schoolgirl, though you weren’t complaining.

Your recently ended relationship with your ex Justin was not great. The reason for the break up was due to the fact that he didn’t make you feel special. Looking back at it now you don’t even know why you agreed to start dating him in the first place. But you were thankful it concluded, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, with a man who looked at you like you hung the moon and placed every star in the sky yourself.

Back in the living room, Chris paced around the living room for your return. Happiness surged through him, making him pump his fist in the air like he was John Bender in The Breakfast Club.

He's been with plenty of women throughout his life, even getting engaged to one, but it was in this moment he realized he had never been so infatuated with someone until you entered his life. You made all of the hairs on his body stand up just by looking at him. It elated him but also scared him. It scared him due to how fast he was falling for you. But he didn’t care. Though this feeling was foreign, he had no problem welcoming it with open arms.

After a few moments consisting of composing yourself, you made your way out of the bathroom and back to Chris. You two stood there, just smiling at each other like idiots. It was him who finally piped up.

“So that was some first date.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his comment.

“Tell me about it,” you replied.

The two of you conversed some more before it got late and you decided to call it a night. Making sure you had all of your belongings, including your roses, he escorted you to your car.

Resting against the door, you couldn’t resist temptation so you pulled him into you, attaching your lips to his once more. This kiss wasn’t the apprehensive one you first shared, or the hungry and desperate one that came after. This kiss was full of passion. It was the type that made you breathe out a sigh of relief into the other's mouth, glad that your bodies were in union in such an intimate manner. Neither of you wanting it to end.

When you finally pulled apart, Chris rested his forehead against your own, trying to savor the moment a while longer.

“I’ll call you when I get home, alright?”

Repeating the actions yet again of your first meeting, he went to open your door, waiting for you to slide in before shutting in. After turning on the engine, you rolled the window down allowing Chris to rest against the frame on his forearms.

“See you later, girlfriend.”

“Right back at you, boyfriend.”

Giving you a fleeting kiss goodbye, he stood up and watched as you pulled out of his driveway and back to your home.

Chris stood there in his driveway for a while. He thought about how the date went twenty times better than any other one he’d ever been on. How you made him feel like the greatest man in the world. The way your lips met his and how it was like they were made to be caressed by his. The smile that crept on your face when he called you his girlfriend. And he thought about how now nothing else in this world mattered except for keeping you in his life and making sure that wonderful smile never left your features.

A/N: so the song True by Spandau Ballet is the song i envisioned when Chris opened the door. it’s that one slow 80s song they play in movies where it’s goes like ‘ah ah ah ahhh ahh’ it's all romantic and what not, y’all know the song i’m talking about, that one. cheesy i know, but i works.

anyway baby, i know there’s not a lot of dialogue, i’ve come to the realization that it’s one of my weakness but i’ll be working on it.

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* dividers credit: @firefly-graphics *