#oh boy it's angst o' clock
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The fact that Lilith still has nightmares of the Fall.
She didn't do anything wrong. All she did was fall in love with Lucifer. The Garden depressed her, she hated herself, she was depressed, and try as he might, Adam couldn't make her happy. She was wasting away in the Garden before Lucifer came. Before Lucifer gave her a reason to keep going.
Lilith didn't know physical pain until the day the angels dragged her from the Garden and threw her out, and forced her to miscarry. She didn't understand why she was forced to lose her and Adam's only child. She had done what they wanted, hadn't she? And this was her reward, to scream and wail and bleed, to be left to die in the wilderness?
The apple was an accident. She had experienced a taste of Heaven's cruelty for not being perfect. All she could think about was Adam, how terrified she was that her brother could be harmed, because of her. She had begged Lucifer for a solution, and he brought a fruit from Heaven itself to grant knowledge and free will. Breaking into the Garden again took so long that Eve had been formed and was already pregnant; how could Lilith grant the apple to her brother and not this sweet innocent girl too? How could she look Eve in the eye and leave her alone in the Garden? So of course she offered the apple to Eve first.
Except...how wrong it went... Not seeing the danger, until it was too late. Not being able to fix it no matter how much she begged. Not being able to do much of anything, except jump after Lucifer after Sera opened the portal to suck him into the Pit, knowing she might die and not caring because she already lost Adam, she couldn't lose Lucifer next.
The agony of the transformation. The way she lost her breath when they made contact. Her skull splitting open as her horns burst from her head. How Lucifer screams echoed in the wasteland when he regained consciousness, his wings broken, golden blood everywhere, and how he kept screaming even as Lilith wept and tried to comfort him. How they held each other in the cold darkness until the red sun started to rise. How they struggled to survive until their supporters Fell next, and the Rings began to form.
All of this...because Lilith wasn't "perfect", no matter how hard she tried, no matter how many times she tried to fix herself without knowing what was wrong in the first place. The pain echoes in her body. Lucifer's screams still echo in her ears.
The Fall will never leave her. Escaping the trauma is impossible.
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Web of Shadow and Light (Part III)
Sequel to Webs of Fate
Miguel O'Hara x SpiderSun Reader
words: 5.2 K
warnings: secret pregnancy trope, swearing, angst, heartbreak, grumpy/sunshine
Part I Part II Part III
The Spider-HQ echo with an unsettling symphony - a child's piercing cries and the hushed whispers of concern from some of the multiverse's bravest Spider heroes. They stand clustered around the smallest yet most powerful disturbance they've ever encountered - a baby boy. His wails have been echoing through the HQ since Miguel left the room, leaving the baby and dozens of Spider-man behind. Each cry is a call for help that pulls at their hearts, demanding attention, challenging their patience.
After much deliberation and coaxing from the rest, Miguel gave his team an ultimatum - they have until dawn to find an alternative solution, before Gabriel has to be eliminated, before the universe collapses on itself. His voice was a cold whisper when he spoke, "Figure out another way by tomorrow morning, or..." Nobody dares to complete the sentence, not even Miguel, the unsaid words hanging heavily in the air. And with that Miguel was gone, and the baby immediately started wailing and hasn’t stopped since.
Now Gwen, with her brows knitted in worry, rocks the baby with desperate gentleness. Her blue eyes are bright with unshed tears, a look of sheer helplessness painting her usually confident face. Beside her Peter B. is attempting to cheer Gabriel up but his efforts as pointless as they are endearing. The usually funny and charming Peter B seems to be losing a battle of wits with a one-year-old. It would've been humorous, had the situation been any different.
The sight of the little baby boy weeping his heart out, oblivious to the chaos his presence is causing tugs at their hearts, binding them in a collective resolution - they must protect this child. The shadows and the light, entwined in this web they’ve all been thrown into. And the clock is ticking.
Hobie scoops up the little boy, cradling him close in an attempt to soothe his relentless tears. "See, the cow says muhhhhh," he coos. His tiny cries falter, curiosity momentarily replacing distress. He gazes at Hobie with wide eyes, intrigued by the cool looking man. "And the butterfly," Hobie pauses dramatically, "well, the butterfly don’t say nothin’." He continues his little game, while rocking the baby gently in his arms. "And the pig says-"
Miles chimes in with an eager grin, "Oink, Oink."
"Nah, bruv," Hobie laughs. “The pig says, ‘You have the right to remain silent!’”
Gabriel’s face scrunches up, and the waterworks start again. Hobie chuckles, "Fair enough, little fella. Cops make me wanna cry too."
Meanwhile Jessica Drew, clad in her black and white Spider-Woman outfit, her dark locks cascading around her shoulders, is leaning against the doorframe, half entering the room, her eyebrows raised. "Well? I assume he didn’t stop crying?“
Beside her Peter B. with his shaggy brown hair and five o’ clock beard just shakes his head.
“This is nuts. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is working.“ Gwen states.
In the background, the cries of baby Gabriel cotinue, little fists flailing as he continued his tantrum. Jessica, arching an eyebrow, comments, “He’s still going at it?”
Hobie Brown, just gives her a quick nod. “Oh yeah, the kid has got a set of lungs.”
Suddenly, Pavitr Prabhakar, yelps as a makeshift toy, made out of wood and spiderwebs, hit him square in the forehead. "Ow! And one hell of arm throw."
Methodically, Jessica starts running through a mental checklist. “Diaper?”
Peter B. Parker nods. “Clean.”
“Food?” Jessica glances at Miles who holds a baby food jar and a bent spoon.
Miles, in his black and red suit, shrugs. “Kept smacking the spoon out my hand.”
“Nap?” Jessica's questions further.
The entire room answer in unison, clearly frustrated “Literally the first thing we tried.”
Pavitr smirkes at them. “Jinx.” But his joke is short-lived as Gabriels screams become even louder.
Gwen, then takes charge, “Ok, we have to do something,” her eyes flicking around the room with determination. She points to Jess, “You have to talk to Miguel. You’ve been around him the longest, maybe you can get through to him.”
Jess looks hesitant but nods.
“And Peter,” Gwen turns to Peter B who’s still juggling items in his hands, to entertain the baby and stop his crying. “Get Mayday’s toys. Maybe the baby’s just bored.”
Peter gives a thumbs up. “You got it, boss.”
“And Pav, Hobie,” Gwen instructs, her voice steady. “You need to rally the other Spider-people. We need everyone on board to protect this little guy.”
“Margo, you’re with me, girl. We are paying our old friend Lyla a little surprise visit. Something’s a little fishy with her.” Margo nods eagerly.
As everyone scatters into action, Miles stands there, looking slightly lost and raising his hands. "Hey, guys, you forgot about me! What am I supposed to do? How can I help?" he calls out to the rapidly moving group.
Pav whirls around and points at Miles, "You, take care of the little guy, newbie," he says, as Hobie thrusts the still crying baby into Miles' arms.
"Great," Miles grumbles, balancing Gabriel on his hip and looking down at the squirming bundle of tears.
He starts to bounce up and down gently, trying to imitate what he's seen in movies. The baby continues to cry, unfazed by Miles' efforts.
“Alright buddy, let’s figure this out together. I can swing through New York, so how hard can babysitting be?” Miles whispers to the baby.
Hours drag on and Gabriel's relentless cries continue to echo through the HQ. Despite his earnest attempts, Miles, armed with only his spider powers and limited babysitting experience, is unsuccessful in calming the baby. He’s tried everything he can think of – makinf funny faces, telling funny stories in a soothing tone, gently swinging him back and forth with his web-slinging skills, and even humming a little tune (it was Humble by Kendrick Lamar, but the thought counts, right?). At one point, he even tried to entertain the baby by creating animals out of webbing, but that didn’t work either. The baby is relentless, and his cries only seem to get louder.
In the meantime in Miguel’s office, the echoing cries penetrate through the walls. Migel is sitting behind his desk looking at some documents, while Jess stands in front of him.
“Please, Miguel, it’s a baby boy. How did you imagine doing this, huh?” Jess exclaims, her voice rising. “Did you plan to build some sort of machine to just vaporize him? Or did you think of strangling him with your own bare hands? I know you’re not a monster.” But Miguel's face remains stoic, his eyes never leaving the papers on his desk.
“And look,” Jess continues, pointing vaguely in the direction of where the baby’s cries are coming from, “this baby is already older, and nothing has collapsed yet. The universe is still here.”
“I can’t risk any more lives, Jess,”Miguel responds coldly, finally looking up at her.
“But what if there is another way? We haven’t even tried everything. We have brilliant minds here. Let’s...let’s figure something out that doesn’t involve.. that,” Jess pleads, her voice softening.
Miguel looks at her for a long moment but his expression remains unreadable. The cries of the baby continue to fill the air.
Jess then turns her gaze towards Lyla, , who is stationed nearby, her holographic interface flickering with data. “Lyla, what are the kid’s powers? Run a genetics test, a DNA test. We need something to work with.”
Lyla’s synthetic voice answers in an eerily calm tone, "I have already processed the genetic information, Jessica. Thanks very much, genius. As per my findings, the child’s power attributes remain undefined. In regards to the DNA test..."
Lyla hesitates just a fraction of a second, but enough for Miguel to notice. It's an unexpected response from an AI that's programmed to be efficient and direct. A strange tingle rises within him but he pushes it aside, refocusing on the matter at hand.
“is inconclusive.” Jess squints at Lyla. “Inconclusive? What do you mean? Is he an anomaly or not?”
“He’s an anomaly, certainly. However, the DNA analysis is...complicated,” Lyla maintains her composed tone. “Complicated how?” Jess presses on. “Just...unfamiliar and intermingled genetic markers,” Lyla responds vaguely. “The child is an enigma.”
"Miguel, please" she continues, turning back to Miguel, clearly frustrated with Lyla's vague responses that are not helping her case. Her tone is still serious, "this isn't some variation of a monster, this is a baby."
For a moment, Miguel’s gaze flickers, his usual icy aura briefly wavering. "It doesn't matter," he finally grunts, closing his eyes as if to physically shut out the argument. Jessica's voice turns unexpectedly brittle. "I didn't join the Society to kill innocent kids."
Miguel clenches his jaw hard. "We do what we have to do for the greater good. No exceptions." Jessica takes a deep breath, her next words coming out almost in a whisper. "What if there was my Gerald or a version of your-" she begins, but is quickly cut off.
"DON’T. Don't even go there, Jessica" Miguel growls, his hand forming into a tight fist. "And why the hell is it still crying?"
Jessica's gaze softens slightly. "That child, that little boy, probably misses his parents. Parents who are going through hell right now, searching for their baby." Miguel's fist tightens further, a spark of something, maybe regret, guilt, flashing in his eyes. Jessica presses on trying one last time to convince him. "He was found in 586, right? Maybe we can reconnect with Su-"
"No," Miguel interrupts sharply, his voice a final command. “Until tomorrow morning, Jess,” he finally says in a low voice, putting an end to Jess’ outburst. “That’s all. You can leave now.”
There’s a heavy silence, where the only sound is Gabriel’s distant crying.
Jessica looks at Miguel, her gaze piercing. "Think about what you’re doing, Miguel," she whispers and leaves the room, closing the door softly behind her.
In the heart of the HQ, Margo sifts through the labyrinth of Lyla's concealed data. She uncovers a file that captures her attention – the baby's DNA results. "There you are," she mutters to herself, an air of triumph in her voice. As she opens the file, her eyes widen in disbelief, "Oh no…“
"What is it, Margo?" Gwen asks making her way over to Margo.
Margo's voice trembles slightly. "So, while looking through the hidden data, I found the baby's... there was a parental match."
Gwen's heart skips a beat. “I knew something was was off with Lyla. Of course she knows more. Well, who are the little guy's parents?"
Margo hesitates, then blurts out, "Miguel and Sunny."
Gwen stops dead in her tracks, her mind reeling. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"
"The baby's mother is Sunny, and the father is Miguel," Margo reiterates, her voice steady.
Gwen eyes widen. "But... are you sure? I know Sunny's baby. I was there when baby Gabriel was born!“
"Yes, I'm sure. There were two parental matches for the baby in the spider DNA logs:Sun Spider and Spider-Man 2099. When was the last time you saw the baby, Gwen? Babies change quickly at that age." Margo confirms.
"Miguel and Sunny? That's not possible... how have we never noticed that there's something going on between those two?" Gwen's mind whirls with confusion.
"Oh, I noticed," Margo's voice holds a hint of smugness, "The way he was sneaking into her room at night? And the way he looked at her every time she set foot in a room, like a lovesick puppy. It was adorable. Wait, nobody else noticed?"
Gwen splutters, taken aback, "What? No, I... well, he's all 'we need to sacrifice ourselves to protect the multiverse. No more traveling for fun'" she imitates Miguel's voice with a teasing lilt, then she adds, "And Sunnys is literally the personification of a warm embrace."
Gwen's mind whirls but she continues, “ Woah, okay lets focus on the important part. I mean, I knew something was wrong with Lyla, but why... why would she do that?"
"There's more, Gwen," Margo says, her voice shaking slightly. "I found another thing in her data. It's... it's about how she's processing information."
Gwen frowns, "What do you mean?"
Margo takes a deep breath before explaining, "In simple terms, Lyla's been teaching herself new things. She's changing, growing beyond her original programming. Her code is self-evolving."
"And the data about the baby?" Gwen asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
Margo sighs, "She's been... twisting it, making the baby seem more dangerous than it actually is."
Gwen's mind reels with this new information, the world around her seeming to tilt. "But why?" she finally manages to ask. "Why would Lyla do this?"
"I don't know, Gwen," Margo admits. "But we need to find out and warn Miguel. And soon."
Meanwhile in Miguels office, the wailing becomes louder, almost as if piercing through the walls, trying to reach something, or someone. Miguel's face betrays his discomfort, as if the cries are tugging at his walls around his heart. There's a weight on his chest, something unidentifiable that makes it hard to breathe.
Suddenly Lyla’s holographic interface hums. She begins to show the outline various strategies for eliminating the child. Her voice, analtytic but almost cheerful, fills the room. “So, we could create a temporal displacement field, effectively erasing the child from existence. Or perhaps expose him to a slow-acting molecular destabilizer..."
"Based on the trial," she continues unfazed by Miguel’s lack of response. "the device should work as intended, wiping out any of its DNA and trace. Be like the anomaly never existed." There's a hint of satisfaction in her words.
Miguel, until now staring blankly at the wall, finally turns towards Lyla, his complexion pale and his eyes wide.
His insides twist painfully, the mere idea of bringing harm to this innocent child becoming now unbearable.
“Stop,” Miguel chokes out.
“Apologies, Miguel. We must consider all options for preserving the multiverse. You out of all people should know that,”Lyla retorts.
But something within Miguel snaps. His ice-cold distant facade crumbles. Rising abruptly, his chair clatters loudly onto the floor.
Without saying another word, he strides out of his office. “Miguel? Are you listening? Where are you going?” Lyla calls after him, but her words are unanswered in the empty room.
Walking down the hallway, Miguel slows down as he passes the room where the infant's cries come from. He pauses when he hears Miles' pleas inside.
“Little dude, if you stop crying promise I’ll get you some cool kicks. Maybe some baby Jordans? Please, please just stop crying,” Miles pleads, his voice sounding desperate and utterly exhausted.
After a moment hesitation, Miguel pushes open the door and steps into the room. His gaze, sterner than ever, as he takes in the scene: Miles looking near defeat, his energy spent trying to soothe the wailing child, his spider suit rumpled and hair disheveled.
"Enough," Miguel comms sharply.
Miles looks up from where he's been pacing with the baby, his eyes wide like he's just been caught stealing cookies from a jar. “You,” Miguel points at Miles, who is holding the still-crying baby. His voice booms with authority. “Put him down”
Miles, slightly dumbfounded, obeys and carefully lays the child down on his makeshift bed. “I need you to return to Earth 586. Get some of his belongings - toys, blankets, anything you can find," he orders, his tone leaving no room for argument.
"But Miguel--" Miles startsbut gets cut off immediately.
"Now," he says, his red eyes flashing dangerously. Miles opens the portal hastily and disspears to your universe.
The crying has subsided to whimpers, and Miguel finds himself kneeling next to the little one, who reaches out for him. As if on autopilot, Miguel’s hands scoop him up abruptly from the bed.
"Quiet, niño. "Miguel growls at him with a low and threatening tone. "I could just... do it right now." His irritation gets the better of him, and he bares his fangs at the little one. This sight shocks Gabriel into silence for a moment, his big, teary eyes widening at the sight.
But then, to Miguel's surprise, the baby breaks into a fit of giggles, the sound infectious and joyous.
Gabriel suddenly mimics Miguel, baring his own little teeth – two tiny milk teeth and the beginnings of baby fangs peeking from his gums, causing Miguel to stiffen in shock.
Caught off guard Miguel's hold slips and Gabriel lands back on the web-shaped bed with a bounce. The baby's laughter ends abruptly and is replaced once more with tears and cries.
Still in shock, Miguel stumbles back a step, but Gabriel's cries soon pull him back into the present. With a sigh, he picks up the little boy yet again andGabriel immediately snuggles into the crook of Miguel’s neck, his tiny arms winding tightly around his throat. Miguel swallows hard, unsure of what to do next.
Then, almost instinctively, he starts to hum a tune he thought he'd long forgotten. "Tú eres mi sol de la mañana, el sol que brilla..." His voice is barely audible, the words shaky. Gabriel's little body relaxes against him, a content sigh escaping his lips followed by a quiet yawn. He nuzzles closer to Miguel, his tiny breaths falling into sync with the rhythm of the song. "...alegra todo, mi corazón," Miguel coninues softly, his mind flooding with memories. He sees a bright, lively girl with the same curious eyes as the boy in his arms.
"Daddy," Gabriella asks, her large eyes bright with curiosity as she looks up at him, "why do you call me your morning sun? I'm not yellow."
Miguel chuckles at her innocence, his fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. He cradles her against his chest, looking into those eyes so full of wonder. "No, mija" he replies, his voice soft with affection "you're not yellow but you are my sunshine."
"But why?" She wrinkles her little nose, her childish curiosity making Miguel's heart fill up with love.
"Because, mijita," he begins, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple, "just like the sun, you light up my world. You chase away the darkness with your laughter and your love. You are warmth, you are joy, and just like the morning sun, you are a new beginning, a promise of a brighter day."
Gabriella blinks up at him, her lips curving into a small, and she hides her smile in the crook of his neck. "I like that, Papi," she whispers, "Sing the song again, please?"
“brilla, conmigo, brilla que brilla, alegrandome esta cancion. Tu eres mi sol de la manana…“
Eyes closed, Miguel draws Gabriel unconsciously closer, his heart full, and for the first time he’s feeling a sense of contentment he hasn't experienced in years.
The moment is shattered by the sound of a throat being cleared, pulling him abruptly out of his peaceful trance.
Peter B is standing in the doorway, arms loaded with various dolls. "Wow, he's finally asleep," he remarks, looking between Miguel and the now sleeping Gabriel with a relieved smile. "I was starting to think that was impossible."
Without responding, or even sparing a glance in Peter's direction, Miguel turns away from the door and heads to the bed. He gently places the sleeping toddler down, pulling a small blanket over him. Once he's confident that Gabriel is settled, Miguel quietly leaves the room, his demeanor as frosty and aloof as ever, making no acknowledgment of Peter's presence.
Peter B is quick on his feet, rushing after Miguel. "I brought him toys from Mayday," he blurts out. "She won't miss them. She's not too good at sharing, but I guess she won’t mind in this case."
Miguel continues his stride, not giving Peter so much as a backward glance. "Que maravilla," he mutters under his breath, his tone dripping with sarcasm. Ignoring the dismissal, Peter B. reaches out and places a hand on Miguel's arm, stopping him in his tracks. Miguel raises an eyebrow and glances back at him half-heartedly, clearly not interested in a conversation.
Peter takes a moment, his gaze intensifying. "Hey, boss," he begins, his voice shaky yet determined. "We can't let anything happen to this boy, right?"
At Peter's words, Miguel closes his eyes and takes a deep, steadying breath.
Back on Earth 586, you're in the throes of a meltdown. Your little boy, Gabriel, is nowhere to be found. You've scoured the whole city of Nea Yorkey, every nook and cranny you can think of, but there's no trace of him anywhere. Desperation gnaws at your insides, and fury bubbles up, hot and fierce. Your mind is in turmoil, swirling with anger and fear, clouding your ability to think straight. One thing is crystal clear though: whoever dared to touch your child will pay dearly for their actions.
You're frantically trying to find a way to contact anyone from the Spider Society, while simultaneously considering every possible avenue to traverse the multiverse yourself. Alchemax - the multinational conglomerate known for its cutting-edge research and technological advancements - seems to be your only hope. As you're about to make your way there, a sound from Gabriel's room stops you in your tracks.
Your Spider senses, already on high alert due to the unexpected circumstances, seem to kick into overdrive. Every instinct within you screams that something is about to happen. Your heart pounds in your chest like a wild drum as you slowly approach the room.
Meanwhile, in Gabriel's room, Miles is having his own share of troubles. In his haste, he stumbles over a toy car that starts making an assortment of noises and brightly lit animations. "Ah, this stupid toy!" he curses under his breath.
A thought suddenly crosses his mind and he wonders aloud, "Wait, does he need a blanket?" Just as he's about to reach for a small bunny stuffed animal that lay discarded on the floor, an intense blast of sonic energy sweeps across the room.
Caught by surprise, Miles finds himself flung across the room, his back hitting the wall with a thud. Before he can even let out a gasp, a spider web shoots out, pinning him securely against the wall. There he hangs, suspended, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. His breath comes in shallow gasps as he attempts to comprehend what just happened. Well its safe to say he didn’t saw that coming.
Miles, still stuck against the wall, manages to blurt out, "Who are you?"
"Who am I?" you echo, incredulity lacing your tone. "You break into my son's room and ask me whoI am?"
Your mind races as Miles stammers, "Wait, your son's room? Wait, are you...are you a Spider-person aswell?"
Ignoring his question, you stride towards him, an aura of threat radiating off you. "Stop talking!" you command, "I ask the questions!" In your hand, a ball of solar energy forms, crackling with power and casting a glow across the room.
"Why are you here? Where is my son?" The words are more of a growl than a question, the motherly instincts in you sending waves of danger rippling across the room. "Your son is okay, please don't hurt me!" Miles pleads with a shaky fear laced voice.
Squirmy and visibly frightened, Miles stammers out his confession, "We-we took him...it was our mission... He's an anomaly...we needed to get him out of this universe, send him to his own, so it wouldn’t collapse and interfere with the multiverse...but he doesn't have one, and I'm so sorry..."
His voice dwindles to a murmur, words tumbling over one another in his haste. Amidst his ramblings, your icy inquiry slices through like a blade, "Who instructed you?"
A sharp wince contorts his face, betraying his fear. "Our boss..." he starts, his voice barely above a whisper, "Miguel... Miguel O'Hara."
The energy in your hand dissipates, leaving only shock in its place. It's almost too much to take in - the idea that Miguel, your Miguel, could have done something like this. "He's okay, we... we didn't know he was the son of a Spider-woman. I'm Miles Morales, by the way." he introduces himself, attempting to inject some normalcy into the situation.
"I'm Spider-Sun," you respond automatically, your voice sounding distant to your own ears.
"Wait … you?" Miles' eyes widen in recognition. "You're Sunny?" When you give a numb nod in response, he continues, "You look more like 'Stormy' if you ask me." Your gaze snaps to Miles, the intensity of your death glare immediately silencing his attempt at humour. "Sorry, sorry," he stammers, raising his hands in surrender. "I just...I've heard Gwen and Peter talk about you."
"They never stop talking about you," Miles continues, trying to regain his composure. "They always say you have such a radiant personality and how much they miss you. They take care of your son, don’t worry. Hes safe for now.”
"What do you mean he's safe 'for now'?" you cut him off abruptly, your voice cold and hard. Miles gulps nervously before responding.
"Eh...we have until morning to find a solution for this...anomaly," he stammers. You interrupt him, seething with a fury that makes him cringe. "My son's name is Gabriel. He is not an 'anomaly'," you spit out the words like they are poison, hating the way they make your sweet little boy sound like some kind of mistake.
"Eh, yes, for Gabriel," Miles corrects hastily, "because, eh... if we don't find an alternative, they need to, eh...eliminate..." He trails off, speaking so quickly and softly that you almost don't catch his last word.
"ELIMINATE?????" You scream and for a split second, Miles is sure he sees your eyes blaze with a terrifying, luminating light.
"We can stop them. We can talk to them and say it's your son," Miles says quickly, desperately hoping to calm you.
"I don't talk. Bring me to my son," you demand. Without wasting another moment, you order him to open the portal. "Y-yes, right away, Sunn... eh, Mrs. Sun, eh... Ma'am," he stammers, visibly trembling under your steely gaze.
It takes him two shaky attempts before he manages to successfully open the portal, his hands still unsteady from the encounter.
Back at the headquarters, Peter chases after Miguel into his office. "Boss, all I'm saying is, what if Lyla is wrong?"
Miguel is pinching the bridge of his nose, a deep sigh escaping his lips. The weight of the situation is quickly becoming too overwhelming and he feels himself teetering dangerously close to his breaking point.
Just at that moment, Gwen, Pav, Margo and Hobie burst into the office, their faces set withdetermination. "Miguel, there’s something you need to know. Please hear us out. Margo and I, we found something.Lyla is - ," Gwen starts but Miguel is quick to silence her with a raised hand.
Just as Miguel is about to speak, the lights flicker, casting an ominous glow throughout the room. Hobie looks around nervously. "Is that eh...normal?"
Peter quirks an eyebrow. "Did you forget to pay the electricity bill?"
The lights flicker even more violently, plunging the room into a dance of shadow and light.
With a violent burst, the door is flung open, and a brilliant surge of light blinds everyone. You stand in the doorway, an ethereal aura glowing around you.
"O'Hara!" Your voice thunders through the room, heavy with wrath and revenge. As Miguel turns around to face the source of the sound, a massive, lightning-tinged sonar blast slams directly into his chest. He's pushed backward, knocked off balance before he can brace himself for the attack. He tries to recoverr, to shift into defense mode but he doesn't get the chance. You're relentless, a solar goddess in human form, hurtling blast after blast at him. Miguel has no time to regain his stance, each attack landing with more force than the last.
Gwen makes to step forward, her instincts screaming at her to intervene, but Peter grabs her arm, pulling her back. "That's Sunny," he says, his voice a mixture of awe and concern. Hobie's eyes widen comically. He cocks his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "Our Sunny, eh? Blimey, I never knew she had it in her. That rebellious firecracker," he mutters, a distinct note of admiration creeping into his typically laid-back British drawl.
Miles bursts into the room, breathless and disheveled. He stumbles towards Gwen, his voice hurried and concerned, "I tried to stop her, but she was...she was furious. Woahhh, I've never seen Miguel get beaten like this before."
And he wasn't exaggerating. Miguel was fighting back, his fangs bared, his claws out and ready but he was no match for your rage-fueled attacks. You were right up in his face, delivering punch after punch at a brutal pace
"Where's my son, O’Hara? What have you done to him?" you demand, your voice cutting through the chaos like a blade.
At your words, Miguel's movements falter. His defense wavers, and he barely manages to gasp out, "Your son?" He doesn't dodge your next blow, doesn't attempt to shield himself or strike back. Instead, he allows you to continue.
Miguel is shocked. His reflexes kick in as he sees the next punch coming and he grabs your wrist, halting your next powerful punch aimed for his face. He locks eyes with you, his gaze holding an emotion you've never seen in him before. Is it fear? No, it's much deeper, more profound.
As he stares at you, your luminescent eyes gradually lose their fiery intensity, shifting back to their human form.
"I... I didn't know," Miguel stammers, his voice a trembling whisper. "Lo – lo siento. I – I didn’t know.”
His breaths are ragged, and you can see a war waging inside him.
"But...how?How didn’t I know?" His voice is choked, your wrist still securely in his grip. “Your son?” Miguel continues,his voice is barely above a whisper. His eyes search yours and all he sees is raw, untamed anger with an aching pain that pierces his soul.
“Yes, MY son!” your voice echoes through the room like a whip. “Did you think that you could just take him from me? That I wouldn't come for him?”
Miguel’s grip on your wrist loosens as he stumbles back. His heart feels like it’s about to explode as realization dawns on him. The dark curls, the small fangs the baby had bared at him –pieces of a puzzle start falling into place. His own blood runs cold.
“Where is he, Miguel? Where’s myGabriel?” your voice breaks as you say the name, and it feels like another punch to Miguel's gut.
“Gabr...” Miguel chokes. “No... no...”
His voice is barely audible, the air knocked out of him by the significance of the name. His knees buckle, and he falls on the floor. "NO."
“You, who I thought would protect any child, wanted to eliminate my – our – flesh and blood!” Tears, full of anger and hurt, stream down your face, but your voice doesn't waver one bit.
Miguel, still on the floor, looks up at you with tear-streaked cheeks. “I didn’t know. I swear on my life, on Gabriella’s memory. I-I wanted to do the right thing. I- I never, -Lo siento.”
There’s a moment of tense silence as you look down at the shattered man before you,the love of your life, the father of your child, who almost made the most horrifying, unforgivable mistake.
Just then, from another room, the faint sound of a baby's cries pierce through the heavy atmosphere. You abruptly yank your wrist out of his grasp and towards the door to leave.
Your heart clenches as you break into a run, following the pitiful cries. You don’t look back.
Miguel remains on his knees. He doenst follow you, he doesn’t dare to move, anchored by the crushing weight of what he's done, as the sounds of Gabriel's cries fade into the background.
"Gabriel," he whispers, the name escaping his lips like a vow. A promise of redemption. And with that single word, Miguel knows he'll move heaven and earth to protect his child.
Part 4 "Webs of Redemption"
Hello, you wonderful souls! I want to say a big thank you for your patience and kind words about this series. I really appreciate each of your sweet comments and messages – they mean so much to me. Thank you all for the insightful ideas and suggestions you contributed for part 3. I've incorporated as many of your concepts as I could because they're simply brilliant. I'm eager to hear more of your thoughts, criticisms, and proposals for part 4. I also want to give a special thanks to Jess, @wolfjessedragon . Her inspiration and amazing ideas were the driving force behind Part 3, and I couldn't have written it without her! love you guys, keep being awesome!
#miguel ohara#spiderman 2099#miguel x reader#across the spiderverse#miguel x you#miguel o hara#atsv miguel#miguel o hara x reader#spider man#miguel o'hara#oscar isaac fanfiction#oscar isaac#oscar isaac imagine#miguel o hara x y/n#miguel ohara imagine#miguel o hara smut#spiderman 2099 spiderverse#spiderman into the spiderverse#miguel o hara x you#miguel spiderman#miguel o hara fanart
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love is in the (chilly) air | psh
pair: figure skater!sunghoon x gn!reader (inspired by en-o-clock ep 20) | g: fluff, bit of angst, comfort, humor! figure skating au | wc: 1.6k | cw: insecurities about sunghoon choosing you or his love for the ice, no injuries but a soft landing in the snow, cheesy cheesy couples (why can’t we have nice things)
a/n: if you recognize this it's because i revamped it! I wanted to add more, and change a few things. still a personal fave <3
“I’m going to look like an idiot, hoon.” you mumble, fumbling with the zipper of your jacket before looking up to witness his reaction.
your boyfriend tries his best to convince you to join him.
“you won’t,” he argues, and you feel your heart flutter. “you never have.” sunghoon’s words are spoken in earnest, and while they make you realize how lucky you are, they do little to calm your nerves.
still, you doubtfully consider your choices, and sunghoon can sense your hesitation from a mile away. “okay, how about this,” he proposes, holding both of your hands in his and leaning down to make eye contact with you. “i’ll show you the basics, and if you still don’t want to, we can go back home.” you honestly don’t want to go home now that you’re already bundled in your crisp clothes- you want to see sunghoon having the time of his life, but you also want to preserve your dignity.
this idea is better, you think, and after what feels like years, you nod. a bright grin lights up on the boy’s face, and he excitedly drags out outside to the sidewalk. “it’s snowing.” you mutter, trying to find any excuse to go back.
“if snow was…” sunghoon trails off, letting out an excited ‘oh!’ once he knows what he would have said. “if snow was an indicator for how much i love you, it would be a blizzard in my heart.” he declares, smiling as he drags you along the bustling streets. he seems proud of himself for an analogy so romantic, and you hand it to him in your head. he knows just how to make you feel special all the time.
you tell him, however, for the sake of having fun, “for me, it would be midsummer.”
“you wound me.”
“it’s what i do best.” you deadpan, smiling nonetheless.
sunghoon frowns dramatically and lets go of your gloved hand to cross his arms. “you’re terrible!” he retorts, starting to walk faster and leaving a trail of booted footprints. “all i want to do is shower you in my love and affection and then you pretend you’re not in love with me.” he declares, placing the false narrative that you do not reciprocate his feelings. you smile at his antics, reaching to fluff up his hair before grabbing his bicep, intertwining your fingers and leaning on his shoulder when you finally catch up to him.
“i do love you, sunghoon.” you murmur. the boy beside you smiles when he hears it.
“i know.” he says, a smug look on his face. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”
scowling, you take your hand out of his pocket. “you m-“ sunghoon shushes you immediately, raising his eyebrows as he watches your confused expression morph into a concerned one.
“what?”
he smiles before kissing your forehead. “i just wanted to say i love you too, silly.” he rolls his eyes, and continues along the path.
by the time you reach the park, and venture past the playground to the lake that’s frozen over, sunghoon reaches inside the bag he’s been carrying and pulls out two pairs of ice skates, with a mischievous glint in his eye. “come on.” he tells you, and starts to put on the skates as quickly as he can. “you promised.” you didn’t, but you also can’t afford to see your boyfriend so dejected if you disagree.
the ice makes you feel like bambi. how does sunghoon do this three times a week? he grabs your flailing arms, laugh as he holds you close. “i got you.” he reassures, a happy grin on his features. when you look up, you realize that there’s nothing sunghoon loves more in this world than you, and the ice.
ever since the daunting young age of six, the boy’s found solace in the frozen surfaces he glides across. but amongst the trophies, medals, and perfect scores across the board, however, he’s found room in his heart to accommodate you, someone who he can’t remember a life without, and as he patiently guides you across the slippery planes of his love and adoration, you can’t help but fall more in love with him.
“hey! are you even skating anymore?” he playfully scolds you, letting go of your arms unexpectedly. the lack of support renders you a fumbling mess as your shift in balance almost causes you to topple over, face first into the frozen water. instead, you fall towards your boyfriend, who holds you tight and lets you regain your balance. “easy there, tiger. don’t want you to ruin that pretty face of yours.”
“oh my god, i think i just saw my life flash before my eyes.” you tell him, ghastly look on your face, and sunghoon giggles at your reaction. he smooths out your hair the best he can with his gloves on, running his fingers through your locks and stopping to pat your head.
he switches to a different topic. “are you okay, though? you were zoning out and i wasn’t sure what to do.” he confesses sheepishly. your eyes widen before you nod vigorously.
“yes-yes, i’m fine.” you reassure him, but your words seem to fall on deaf ears as he looks at you worriedly. “it’s embarrassing if i tell you what i was thinking about!” you defend.
“say it.” he prompts you. you sigh defeatedly.
“i just think you’re so cool across the ice, hoon, and sometimes i wonder why you decided to even love me when all you needed was figure skating. like, you’ve gone for so long doing this,” you stop to motion at the ground where the indents lay in the marks of the ice. “and you’ve perfected it, so sometimes, it feels like i have this unknowing competition between me and skating, and i’m worried you’ll have to choose someday.”
he hums at your words, soaking in your insecurities before reaching to hold you close. “i think that i’ll never be able to choose. you make me happy in a different way than figure skating does, y’know? I feel passionate when i skate, and i feel like i’m always chasing towards something better.” he pauses, and his hot breath materializes in the white air. “with you, though, i feel like i’ve finally been able to sit down, and take a break. i feel like you make me realize it is not so hard to be with the thing you love, and of course our relationship takes effort. but it’s a different kind of effort. it’s not the effort I have to force myself to wake up to do sometimes. i’ve skated for years on end, but you make me feel whole, you make me understand some of the best things i can about myself, and make me feel like i can carry the world in the weird way that ice can’t. loving you is one of the easiest things i’ve done.” he says it all in this genuine way that you know and love about him. sunghoon’s an open book- you know when he’s mad but you know when he’s honest, and right now is one of those moments where you’ve seen him bear his heart on his sleeve, just for you. your love for him is boundless, and you feel like you can never truly stop caring for a boy like him.
sunghoon’s cute when he rambles. sunghoon’s also the love of your life, and sunghoon makes you feel special. all you can do is smile through your teary eyes and kiss him as the snow slowly descends from the sky and you loop your arms around his neck. “thank you,” you whisper, the white air puffing into his cheeks. “thank you, sunghoon.” it’s a tender feeling, to hold him so close, and to feel so warm despite the cold weather.
there’s just one key component you’re missing. your balance here is terrible.
you let out a yelp as you feel yourself start to tip over and bring sunghoon down with you- the boy scrambling to ground himself as he eases your fall. thankfully, you land in the snow, and both the cushioning and your boyfriend’s grip eases your head on the way down. “alright.” you say, wiping off the snow that’s gotten on you. “i’m done for the day. or the month, or year.”
you sit on the ground and watch sunghoon travel across the frozen surface, with an elated smile on his face and a professionalism that meshes together into an adorable childlike wonder. you marvel at his skill, eyes following every twist and turn, even as he does a triple axel out of nowhere. “that’s not fair!” you cry out. “you’re just showing off, now.” he laughs before doing another spin.
the boy makes his way over, catching his breath as he sits beside you. he lets his head fall into your lap, and you take the opportunity to comb through his hair. “yes.” he says out of nowhere, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. he continues. “i was showing off.”
-
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#enhypen#enha#enhypen au#enhypen fluff#enhypen imagines#enha fluff#enha imagines#enha x reader#sunghoon#park sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon#sunghoon fluff#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon fluff#enhypen sunghoon#enha scenarios#enhypen scenarios#sunghoon imagines#sunghoon enhypen#kpop fanfic#sunghoon fanfic#park sunghoon x you
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Don’t break my heart part 4 with reader and drew finally kissing ❤️🤭
part one, part two, part three
damian priest x reader (platonic), rhea ripley x reader (platonic), the judgment day x reader (platonic), drew mcintyre x reader
‼️ angst, comfort, liv morgan as a warning, some fluff, family issues, a lot of family issues, crying and panicking , mention of sexual things but nothing happened (yet) - part 5 will be sadder and general worse‼️
likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated
don’t break my heart - part 4
it’s been a week since your first “date” with drew and you couldn’t lie if you said you didn’t like him. you probably developed a crush for the man but you tried to keep it as private as possible, fearing rhea or damian would find out, or, worse, fearing that drew would find out.
in the same week you’ve been texting more and more, talking about the silliest things. he even changed his work schedule just to train with you - and rhea and damian.
he didn’t mind them as long as they weren’t keeping you away from him. in this week he got to realise how much they cared for you and even if he wouldn’t hurt you, after you’ve been through, he knew that they still would be over protective with you.
you started talking with drew more and more about private and personal things. you didn’t fully open up to him, especially not via text, but somehow he understood that apart from damian and rhea, you were completely alone.
he felt for you.
you were a nice person to hang out with and he couldn’t understand why the other girls didn’t want to befriend you.
rhea and damian knew something was going on with you. they weren’t stupid, they knew something was going on between you and drew but they didn’t know how to bring up the situation because they didn’t want to upset you.
after rhea saw drew kissing your cheek from the hotel window, she knew she should have done something but at the same time she knew that if she intervened in something that didn’t belong to her, you would have gotten mad, and losing you too wasn’t an option.
so she talked about the whole situation with damian and they both agreed to talk with you after raw ended.
while driving to the arena, damian and rhea kept exchanging glances, noticing how happier you were. they knew it was because you were going to see drew and they hated that he was the reason of your happiness.
“i can’t wait for kicking some asses” you said smiling, making both of the adults laugh.
“yeah, i really can’t wait for my fight against carlito…he’s been a real pain in the ass these past weeks” damian added.
“what about liv? just the sound of her voice irritates me” rhea smirked making you chuckle.
you were extremely excited that you were going back on stage. you didn’t have any match yet but you were there to support damian ringside with rhea. you knew that finn or jd would have done something to make damian lose and you couldn’t allow that.
“how much do i have to get ready?” you asked rhea, watching the clock on your phone.
“about an hour…don’t be late” she winked at you, knowing that you were always ready on time and she was the one who was always late.
while moving to your changing room, your eyes met drew who waved at you smiling. you waved back, smiling at him.
you felt like a teenager in love and you hated yourself for that. you’ve never had an actual teenage crush, all the boys you liked, never liked you back and so you had no idea of what to do with drew, without talking about the age gap between the two of you.
you wished you could talk to rhea or damian about this but if you told them you had a crush for drew, they would probably kick your ass too.
while finishing getting ready, you smiled seeing a text from drew popping up on your screen.
can’t wait to see you kick finn’s ass out there! be careful <3 see you after the show!
he wanted to see you?
he wanted to see you!
“oh my…he wants to see me!” you almost screamed like a baby.
“y/n! ten minutes!” one of the managers screamed from outside the room and woke you up from your little dream.
you weren’t supposed be on the ring until rhea finished her promo so you waited backstage, watching her from a screen. she was showing confidence, something you’ve always admired from her. she was showing the world who was in charge and definitely weren’t dom or liv.
but then liv started talking about how she took everything from rhea. not only the title but how she took dom and the rest of the team from her. how she replaced her in the family she thought she had found and you could see hurt in rhea’s eyes but she was trying her best to not break.
you, on other hand, were deeply hurt from her words and a tear fell from your eyes. you couldn’t understand how someone could be so cruel. you couldn’t understand how finn and dom were siding with her. you couldn’t even understand why dom was treating rhea that way, he always loved to be her puppy so making her feel guilty after she’s the reason he became who he is today, it just wasn’t right.
damian was capable of bringing a smile into your face when he appeared from behind and started attacking dom.
“finally” you whispered getting ready to go in the arena.
just a few minutes later and damian’s match against carlito began. it was an easy match for damian and you knew that he would have won easily but when you saw jd ready to attack him you couldn’t stay back.
rhea held you, whispering that it wasn’t time yet.
“i just wanna delete his existence from the face of the earth” you whispered making her laugh.
“let damian win and then we can go” she said.
after a few minutes damian won his match and was in that exact moment that jd attacked him, making you even more angry “okay, go…” rhea looked at you with such pride in her eyes. she watched you run into the arena and began your attack on jd, trying to separate him from damian.
the crowd screamed of happiness when they saw you.
just a few seconds after and liv was attacking you from behind “wrong team y/n” she whispered. her words only made you laugh.
with a quick move you were able to free yourself and to pin her down, making her yelp from pain.
“wrong person to attack, you bitch” you whispered.
she was surprised at how fierce you were feeling tonight “you know, with this temper, you would fit perfectly with me and the guys” she whispered making sure no one heard.
“in your dreams” you said while blocking her arms down.
the moment rhea came to stage, dom was quick to shove you apart to save liv. so you stayed there, watching with damian how terrified everyone was of rhea.
out of nowhere, finn tried some moves but he was about to get hit by damian when he moved apart and sacrificed jd to get that hit.
“what a coward” you screamed into his face making the whole crowd chant with you. as a result of their cowardice, you, damian and rhea were happily celebrating inside the ring.
both for damian’s victory and for your ability to face the team, you were happily getting backstage. damian in the middle with you and rhea on his side, his arms around your waist while the crowd happily cheered for you.
once backstage you couldn’t contain your happiness “oh my! that was amazing damian!” he happily hugged you when he saw how excited you were.
moments like these were rare so they cherished every single moment when you were happy.
“i’m going to take a quick shower and change…uhm…if you want to go back to the hotel i will see you there” you smiled, trying to avoid that topic.
rhea understood what you meant and even if she wanted, she couldn’t hold you back.
“okay, be careful” she said in a serious tone “and don’t hesitate to call if something happens okay? even if you need a ride back”
“okay, i will, thank you” you said happily before coming back to your changing room. you were quick to take a shower and change in some clean clothes cause you didn’t want to lose drew segment.
seeing him on the screen always made you feel butterflies in your stomach. his confidence, his voice while speaking on the mic, his personality and charisma, that you were kinda shocked to see how different he was with you, almost embarrassed to messed things up.
“ouch!” you almost screamed when you saw punk hitting him with his belt. you knew there were going to be bruises and you were kinda worried for him. you knew he had much worse but still, punk probably went too far.
you took a protein bar out of your bag and happily eat it while watching the rest of the show when you heard his voice through the corridors “funking punk!” he screamed.
that made you laugh.
you reached for your door, wanting to see if he was doing okay when you stopped in front of his changing room. he was trying to see the damage left by punk while looking in the mirror.
“need help with some lotion?” you softly asked. his face soften when he saw you standing in front of his door.
“can you take a picture first?” he asked and you nodded.
he made sure to show the bracelet he stole from punk “you’re being petty” you joked while taking the picture.
“i’m the worst, kid” he laughed. you handed him his phone back and he thanked you.
you saw he was looking for some wipes to clean the blood off but you moved first and took a sanitary wipe from the bag you had on your shoulder “here, this should help…” you handed him the wipe but he turned his back on you, hinting that he wanted you to clean him “are you sure? i don’t wanna hurt you”
“you have feathery hands, trust me, you won’t hurt me more than punk did…” he laughed, convincing you.
you moved cautiously, don’t wanting to hurt him, you cleaned the blood that came from the bruises before gently applying some oil on his skin. he swore he could get used to your touch. kind and gentle, definitely not what he was used to.
“and we are all done…” your voice came out as a whisper. standing so close to drew while he was half naked was completely different from having date lunch with him or texting him.
he turned back to face you again and maybe, just maybe, you were a little too close. the height difference between the two of you was crazy, your eyes were fixed on his chest, too shy to watch him in the eyes as you felt them on you.
“too shy kid?” he said smirking when you lifted your head up.
“i’m not a kid…” you whispered back, making him chuckle.
“you are my kid though…” his hand gently lifted your chin up so you couldn’t escape from his gaze “i could stay like this forever” he whispered.
yes, definitely different from the past week where you’ve been texting nonstop.
“really?” his statement took you back and you wondered if he really wanted to stay like that forever.
“really. you’re so kind and beautiful, and it pains me that people don’t see you the way i do…” his hand gently stroking your cheek “i like you y/n…yes, maybe all of this was unexpected and i definitely wasn’t expecting to fall in love with the judgment day’s protégé but here i am…i really, really like you” his accent made everything even hotter.
you weren’t good with words. especially not when you were still getting to know him well and even if you knew you liked him too, you had no idea of how to tell him so you simply acted of gesture.
you brought his face down so your lips could meet his but he was stronger so he lifted your body up from your waist so now you were the one on your toes, your hands behind his neck while you were still kissing him.
it was a soft yet passionate kiss. something you’ve been wanting for years. you felt all the emotions exploding in your stomach.
drew’s hands moved from your waist to hold your back and your neck, while his lips were still moving upon your soft ones.
your hand went involuntarily into his hair tugging them. he almost moaned into your mouth but when you opened your eyes and saw his look, you thought you might have hurt him “sorry…”
“don’t apologise love, tug on them all you want” he said smiling against your lips.
“can we do that again?” you said trying to catch your breath.
“absolutely” he said before capturing your lips again. this time he was fighting for dominance, gently biting your lower lip, making you smile into the kiss. his hands wished they could touch everywhere on your body but he didn’t want to scare you away, he still was a gentleman so he kept moving them from your neck to your waist and from your waist to your neck even if he wanted to feel the skin under your jumper.
once you both needed to catch your breath, your eyes met and there was like an unspoken rule between the two of you.
you wanted him as much as he wanted you. both sexually, physically and mentally. there was a connection between you two.
“drew?” your side voice woke him up from his trance.
“mh?”
“do you really want this? want…me?” you were hesitant as you didn’t know how actually felt feeling wanted.
“as long as you want me y/n…” he replied.
“i want you drew…i want this and i want to get to know you but…but i feel like once you know the real me, you’re gonna leave…” you didn’t wanna sound weak but there was a lot going on in your life and you didn’t want to open up to someone who might leave, not again “drew…my head’s a mess and i don’t wanna scare you away”
drew’s heart broke when he heard how scared you were of opening up to him “y/n, love, i promise you, i’m here to stay…whatever you might tell me, won’t scare me away, i’m here for you”
you couldn’t find words to thank him enough so you simply hugged him, trying not to mess with his back “let me put on a clean t-shirt and then i’ll drive us both to the hotel” he smiled and you nodded.
once he was ready, you both went into his rental and drove back to the hotel. he complimented your presence inside the arena, telling you how much confidence you were gaining.
“will you ever get back that bracelet to punk?” you asked laughing.
“probably not” he said making you laugh even more.
once parked outside of the hotel he helped you with your bags and put them on the floor.
“which room are you in?” he asked.
“uhm…405, you?”
“320…different floors…well, love, let me take you to your room so i can proper kiss you goodnight” he said, making you blush “oh so you are shy now?”
“i’m not shy…”
“right…” he chuckled, calling the elevator while still carrying his and your own bags.
once inside, he gently moved your bags from the floor to the table on your left and took his time in admiring you underneath the moonlight “you are so pretty” he whispered making you blush even harder.
his hands moved some of the hair that laid in front of your face and his thumb gently caressed your lips “goodnight y/n” his lips captured your lips one last time before he went back to his room.
you couldn’t really fully register what just happened but in less than two hours drew confessed to you, kissed you, told you that he was gonna stick by your side and let you take care of him.
maybe life wasn’t so bad at all - you thought but then you remembered that you left the remote at the reception to let them fix it as it wasn’t working this morning, so you would have to go and get it from them.
“hello, i’m here for the tv remote please…” you smiled at the lady who was working at the reception. she kindly gave you the remote back but before you could go back to your room, a very irritating voice caught your attention.
“y/n” liv morgan happily called your name.
“liv…” you weren’t in the mood for talking.
“can we please talk? just for a minute?” she asked but you quickly said no and turned your back to her “well, that’s sad…you know, you could have your own spot with us…we could be your new family…it’s not gonna take long before rhea and dam abandon you like your own biological family did” she laughed.
how did she know that?
“how do you?”
“how do i know?” she interrupted you “finn told me…finn told me everything” she smirked “he told me about your family, about how they kicked you out when you were only eighteen, how you had no place to go, how lonely you felt…” tears were forming in your eyes but you didn’t want to cry in front of her “i know you’re still in therapy due to all the things your family put you through….i had no idea they tried to reach out when you got famous, pretty sure not even damian and rhea know…” she kept smiling knowing she was breaking you apart “finn practically told me how much of a crybaby you are…how you needed damian or rhea everytime you were feeling down, finn told me about all the times you bothered him with your own stupid problems…trust me y/n, if your family abandoned you, if the judgment day abandoned you, it’s just a matter of time before rhea and damian abandon you too…” she said before going away.
leaving you there, alone, with tears in your eyes and a mind who couldn’t be trusted.
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never thought this would be a series but i can’t wait for part 5 cause is gonna be really really angst and i promise you rhea and damian will be more present
#wwe#wwe x reader#wwe imagine#wwe x you#wwe imagines#wwe x oc#wwe one shot#damian priest x reader#damian priest#wwe damian priest#damian priest x oc#damian priest imagines#damian priest x you#rhea ripley one shot#rhea ripley x reader#rhea ripley fluff#wwe rhea ripley x reader#wwe rhea ripley#rhea ripley#the judgment day x you#wwe the judgment day#the judgment day one shot#the judgment day x reader#drew mcintyre x you#drew mcintyre x reader#wwe drew mcintyre#drew mcintyre x oc#damian priest imagine#rhea ripley x oc#drew mcintyre angst
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masterlist ・:*+.\ ☆ = personal fav ; drabbles , smau
CHOSO K.
nice n clean — fluff
choso-nii — smut, DARK
durian — smut, request
MAKI Z.
#1 fan — smut ft. yuuta o. ☆
a not-so great teaching method — smut ft. yuuta o.
MEGUMI F.
enjoy the silence — smut
very specific taste — smut, hcs
thank god for birth control — smut
tiny girls — smut, request
i wanna see your peacock — smut, hcs
magic words — smut / angst ☆
pretty pretty boy — smut
glass eyed — smut, request
SATORU G.
sleepyhead — smut ☆
TOGE I.
very specific taste — smut, hcs
very good morning — smut / fluff
doctor pepper — smut ft. yuuta o.
i wanna see your peacock — smut, hcs
TOJI F.
big baby — fluff
YUUJI I.
very specific taste — smut, hcs
mind your business — smut
big ole freak — smut
i wanna see your peacock — smut, hcs
heart o gold — smut ☆
YUUTA O.
too much or not enough — smut
come taste me — smut
very specific taste part 2 — smut, hc, request
#1 fan — smut ft. maki z. ☆
tears of... joy? — smut, DARK
oops! the clock is wrong — fluff ☆
doctor pepper — smut ft. toge i.
i wanna see your peacock — smut, hcs
oh, angels have pink hair! — fluff
normal — smut, DARK ☆
a not-so great teaching method — smut ft. maki z.
blood & all — smut, request
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“S e c o n d c h a n c e s”
Synopsis: You and Katsuki are past lovers who didn’t have the best relationship nor mental stability for a relationship. When you come cross eachother at his family owned coffee shop, you both take the chance to reconnect.
Warnings: This is not nsfw!! It is Angst!!
Tags: GN!Reader, facialhair bakugou 🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦🫦, breakup, adult!Bakugo adult!reader
The clock struck 5:00 and despite all the workload and stress that you felt you should be focusing on, the only thing you craved was a cup of coffee. Naturally so, you decided to pause your 3 hour work bender and take a walk down to the coffee shop for not only your desired coffee but also a nice fresh of air. I mean, It was 5 in the morning, who was going to be out this early?
Five, ten, twelve, and so on. You always counted the murals around town on your walk because it helped pass time quicker. After all, there’s only so many things to keep you entertained when you’ve decided to sacrifice paying your phone bill. Times are getting hard but you manage, somehow. With the shop that you were going to, you frequented there since middle school, being a close customer to the Bakugo family, the family who owned the shop. Every time you went, it was a wonderful experience of laughing and sweet conversations about life that never seemed to get awkward. When you first began to go back to the shop around three years ago, 2 years after the breakup, you always had a thought in the back of your mind that you would run into your ex, Katsuki. Sooner or later, that feeling subsided as each day you made your way into the shop and was only introduced by Mitsubishi and Masaru Bakugo. Some days, it was other employees they hired, fired, and replaced over time. It wasn’t something that made you sad. In fact, it was bittersweet. You didn’t have to worry about awkward interactions with a boy you once cried for because he was off pursuing his dreams of being a Hero.
As you made your way into the coffee shop, the chime of the bell signaling your arrival, you noticed it to be a few other people in the coffee shop. The look on some were exhausted, tired, and worn out. On others, it was smiles and laughs among a small group. You stepped up to the counter after the person in front of you was done, your head down, preparing to pull out a couple dollars, the amount u always spend. “Didn’t expect for it to be anyone but me.” A small laugh following your statement. A raspy, almost familiar voice rang out. “Yea, not sure, might be some kind of special day.” Even though the voice sounded assuring, you couldn’t bring your eyes up from your hands, scared it was indeed the face you associated with that voice. “What can I get for you today?” “Iced coffee, oat milk please.” Your tone was stern and though the people in the shop were still laughing, working, and living, the ambiance in the room shifted, everything felt awkward. “…..$5.00” you slid him the money, ignoring his tone which almost sounded reminiscent, and standing off to the side of the counter.
As you stood off to the side, you couldn’t help but watch him make your drink. It had indeed been him. Even though his hair was slick backed and he no longer had that look on his face that made him look like he never was content with life, he still had those same beautiful eyes you fell in love with. You couldn’t help but think that his new look was actually a step up from the last time you seen him: The way his rolled up sleeves accentuated his muscles, the conspicuous goatee that you can tell he takes prestige care of, and his sculpted eyebrows which you always had to fight with him to trim. It was all things that were oh so subtle but just so important and prominent to you. All things you tried to deny you missed.
“Here you are.” He handed you your drink. You decided to finally look at his face, taking the cup from his hand. However, he wasn’t looking at you, he was looking down. Just like you were. “Thanks.”
You decided to drink at one of the outside tables, needing time to come to terms with your emotions before you decide an appropriate approach. “Should I approach him?” “What if he doesn’t miss me like I do?” “Bullshit, he obviously does.” “But what if he doesn’t?” Too many thoughts at once, which you knew could only be soothed with a distraction. Work. “I’ll just go home and finish up that essay, worrying about this won’t do much.” You thought to yourself. It had been a prominent trait for you to avoid things unless it was psychically productful no matter how much your feelings yearned for otherwise. You got up with a sigh and made your way back down the street. You were a good distance from the cafe before you heard a calling: “Y/n.” That voice…
You hesitantly turned around to the sight of Katsuki only a couple feet behind you, breathing rapidly in an attempt to collect himself. Was this real life? “I just.. I had to say something, Y/n… I don’t want to act like I don’t know you.” His anxious tone provoked something in you. You wanted to say something back, anything, but your mind couldn’t come to a conclusion as fast as you could open your mouth. “I know I was the worse but I just want you to know I’ve never stopped thinking about you. Never” He paused. Almost looking as if he regretted what he said. “I know it doesn’t mean much to you because we’re adults now and you probably hate me, but every time I’ve been on the brink of death,” he swallowed “And even now… i think of you.” You smiled at his speech, it was a bittersweet feel. The boy who u cried over for not communicating enough was now a grown man who was admitting to you his feelings. You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, wondering where he’d learned that.
“What an approach… but I like the new look you got going on.” A soft smile creeped its way onto your face. It wasn’t that you dismissed what he said but you knew you couldn’t handle a conversation like that. Not so sudden, not now. “Oh this… yea, you know, I’ve changed… a lot.” His tone was soft, but just loud enough for you to hear. “Yea the hair changed drastically!” “Hey! It’s just to look presentable for my parents.” You both giggled like you were little teenagers again, sitting at the playground together because with you both going to two separate high schools, it was the only time you two met. Once the laughing segment was over, Katsuki had that look again, that sad look. “Y/n, please. I need to know, do you think about me too? Just as much as I think about you?” He paused, his jaw seemingly locking up. “Y/n.. do you hate me?” His voice trembled more and more. “Slow down..” you hushed him with a reassuring laugh. “Katsuki, I could never hate you.” You took a couple steps closer to him, hesitation in every step. “I’ve thought about you too. All those days walking home, stopping at that shop after school just to see you.. free coffee as well but also yk, the days where you cried in my arms about how tired you were of UA…” you took a deep breath to keep the tears from flowing. “We were kids, Katsuki.” You couldn’t resist the urge to take his hand, your hot hand grabbing his, cold. You fondled with his fingers whilst the sun rose, peaking through the clouds. “Tell me, y/n. Can we do It again?” His eyes closed, his head resting on top of yours. A big part of you wanted to say yes, do it over again and do it right. But the other half of you knows that it won’t be the same. The days where you stood outside his house, waiting for him to come outside just for him to text you saying he forgot about the plans and went out with friends instead. It won’t be the same, for the better. But is that a chance you’re willing to take? “I’m not sure, Katsuki.” Your tone was sniffled though you weren’t crying… yet. He intertwined his fingers with yours, taking your hand to his mouth. “I’m sorry.” He said with a whisper as he planted a deep kiss on your hand. “I was dumb and stupid.” He placed another. “But if it’s not what you want, I won’t force it. Just know that I love you y/n. Always will. And I feel like a fool but I miss you so so so much. if I had a chance to get back that pure love you gave me, I would take it without hesitation.” “Me too… me too.” You closed your eyes too, leaning into him whilst taking in the moment for what it’s worth because you both understood sooner or later, you had to let go.
“Bye.” His words struck you as he untwined his fingers, retreating himself from you. As you watched him walk the opposite way, you could feel the tears in your eyes start to form. There was so much more you wanted to say but it would amount to nothing, so much you wanted to tell him. You shrugged it off and turned away from him, continuing your walk back home against your will. Five, ten, twelve, and so on. But one thing that struck you on your walk now was that he wasn’t by your side. After all, before it was just you waking alone, it was him teaching you how to use the murals as direction, and in the back of your mind you sometimes feel 16 again, with him counting by your side.
#mha bakugou#bnha bakugo katsuki#bakugou katsuki#bakugou x reader#katsuki x y/n#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki angst#bakugo angst#mha#mha x reader#mha fanfiction#katsuki x you#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki bakugo imagine#fanfic#x reader#canon x you#gender neutral y/n#gender neutral reader#gn reader#gender neutral!reader#facial hair !bakugo#bakugo katuski#bnha bakugou#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x you#katsukibakugou#first fanfic#light angst#mha angst
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introducing me
summary: in which harin meets someone new
set: mid march 2005
word count: 3.6k
warnings: mention of food, vomit, diet; slight angst
an: dialogue in bold are english, dialogue in bold italics are italian. i fought through writers block to complete this so if it’s not spectacular, theres the explanation. feedback and reblogs are much appreciated 💐
harin’s masterlist
“And that’s one of the vocal training rooms,” the company staff member said, pointing at the door where the faint sound of someone singing could be heard. “You’re a vocal trainee, so you’ll mostly be in one of these rooms.”
Harin nodded, looking around her at the different rooms.
The staff member checked the watch on her wrist, sighing lightly. “I have to get going now because I have a meeting, so I’ll have to find someone to finish the tour with you…” she looked around them, feeling despaired at not seeing any trainees. Just then, the door to the bathroom opened, revealing a young dark-haired girl. “Oh! You there,” she called out, pointing at the trainee, who quickly rushed to the staff member.
“When is your next class?” The staff member asked.
The trainee looked around the hallway walls for the nearest clock, shaking her head when she didn’t see one. “My next class is at quarter past five, seonsaengnim.”
The staff member checked her watch once more. “Okay, that’s in ten minutes.” She put her hand on Harin’s shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “This is Jang Harin, she’s a new trainee. I was just giving her a tour, but it took longer than expected and I have a meeting, so I need you to finish giving her the tour.
The trainee eyed Harin as if just noticing she was there. She nodded her head after some time. “Okay, seonsaengnim.”
“Good, good. Don’t forget to ask any questions, okay?” She directed the question to Harin before leaving quickly.
Harin nodded awkwardly as she assessed the girl in front of her. She looked to be around the same age as her, both girls having a bit of a youthfulness to their faces. “I’m Jang Harin,” she introduced herself.
The girl nodded, bowing her head in greeting. “I’m Kwon Yuri,” she said. “How old are you?”
“I’m fifteen internationally. So that’s… seventeen in Korean age,” she said with a nod.
“Ah, are you from out of the country?”
“Yes… I lived in Italy and the UK.”
Yuri gasped softly. “I don’t know any Italian,” she muttered under her breath. “Um… What rooms have you seen already?”
Harin stared at Yuri for a second before answering, “I’ve seen the vocal ones.”
“Okay. Thi–This way.” Yuri pointed down the hall and began walking. “Dance room.” She pointed at one of the doors that they passed. “Boys’ room.”
“I forgot to ask you, but how o–”
“Speak English,” Yuri interrupted her. “You speak English, fine.” She did a thumbs up. “You are… foreigner, so it’s okay to not speak Korean. Don’t force yourself to speak Korean.”
“Okay,” Harin said, making sure to speak with a London accent, “I’ll speak English. How old are you?” She asked her question again.
Yuri gestured between the two of them. “Same. December.”
“Ah…” Harin nodded before pointing at herself. “November.”
They finished the rest of the tour within seven minutes, Yuri trying her best to explain the various rooms in English — she ended up saying half of the sentences in Korean, but Harin didn’t say anything about it — as they walked on.
Yuri clapped her hands when she finished showing Harin around. She pointed over her shoulder. “Dance class,” she said.
Harin nodded, understanding what she was saying. “Okay. Thank you for the tour.” She bowed politely, Yuri reciprocating before leaving in a rush. Harin sighed, watching as the girl ran off. “She’ll have to run down the stairs to make it in time for her lesson,” she muttered to herself. After frequently changing schools growing up, Harin became amazing at memorising building layouts, the SM Entertainment building being no exception.
She made her way to her vocal class that started in ten minutes, deciding to just be early. When she entered the room, she saw three other girls sitting inside, none of them talking to each other. She took a seat against the wall, near the door, smiling timidly at the other trainees. All but one ignored her, sending her a polite smile in response before continuing to hum to herself. Harin didn’t take it personally, she already knew that not everyone would be friendly or particularly excited to see a new face — that’s just one more person to beat out for a chance to debut. She just crossed her legs and began to warm up her voice.
There weren’t usually that many trainees at the company so early. Since she went to an Italian international school, her school day ended at 13:30, meaning she would be at the company early, as opposed to most of the other trainees, whose school days ended at 16:00. So she was shocked to see a group of eight girls in the cafeteria, having a late lunch at 15:13.
She wordlessly put food on her plate, making sure to avoid all of the seafood options. Sitting down at one of the many empty tables, she opened the book that she was reading in her free time.
“Oh, Harin-ssi!”
She looked up to see a girl approaching her excitedly, much too excitedly. Her hair was in pigtails and she had a slight sheen of sweat on her forehead, a dark tint on her lips, probably lipstick. The girl sat down next to Harin, panting heavily as she regained her breath.
“How are you?” The girl asked after some time.
“I’m good,” Harin responded hesitantly. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. I didn’t have school today because I wasn’t feeling well this morning, but I felt better after some time so I decided to come here early.”
“Did you just have a class?” She asked, eyeing the sweat on the girl’s face.
The girl shook her head. “I just arrived right now. I was planning on going to stretch a bit before working on my monthly evaluation dance.”
Harin nodded every so often as she listened to the girl speak, trying to identify her. Her voice didn’t sound familiar, and she had no distinguishing facial features. She just silently prayed that the girl would mention something about how they knew each other — maybe they shared a class?
“My stomach was a bit sore, so I figured I’d just grab a quick lunch,” the girl continued speaking, “but now that I’m in the cafeteria, I don’t really want to eat anything. Maybe I’m not hungry.”
“Or maybe you have a stomach bug,” Harin offered. “You should have some water just to check.”
The girl nodded in agreement. “Ah! I should. Let me go get some.” She tapped the table rhythmically before going to pour herself a cup of water. In the time it took her to do so, Harin quickly finished her lunch and went to return her tray to the designated area.
As she walked away, she saw that the girl was holding onto her stomach, a grimace on her face as she leaned against the wall near the exit to the cafeteria. Harin approached her, placing a tentative hand on her shoulder.
“Are you okay?” She asked. The sweat on the girl’s forehead was more noticeable, along with the deep breaths she was taking.
“My stomach suddenly got so sore,” she groaned.
Harin looked around the room, the other trainees had already left to go to their classes and the cafeteria staff were in the back. She put her book on the nearest table before returning her focus to the girl in front of her. Harin placed her hand on the girl’s forehead, feeling her temperature. It was a bit higher than normal, indicating a fever.
“I think you might have to go to the hospital and get some fever pills,” Harin said.
The girl shook her head. “I feel fi–” She stopped talking as she leaned forward and emptied her stomach, some of her vomit landing on Harin.
I can’t be a doctor, she thought to herself as she heard people gasping. She felt someone pat her with serviettes, trying to wipe the vomit off of her.
“Is she okay?” Someone asked, patting Harin repeatedly with a serviette.
“Does she look okay?” Harin questioned.
One of the girls held the sick girl up when she began to sway a little. “Yah, are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Hyoyeon-ah. Just a little sick.” The girl shook her head.
“That’s very clear,” Harin said. She looked down at herself, the two girls patting her down did a good job of cleaning the vomit off of her jeans and shirt. Judging by the expressions on everybody’s faces, it must’ve smelled bad.
“Maybe she needs to get an IV drip,” a girl with light brown hair suggested.
“You might also have to go with her to make sure you don’t catch whatever she has.” That comment was directed at Harin by a girl she didn’t know.
Harin nodded. “Yeah. Okay.” When nobody moved, Harin asked, “Am I going with her now?”
“Oh. Yeah.”
A taxi was called to take the two of them to the nearest hospital and they were both given jackets to wear. Harin tried to stifle her laugh when the taxi driver rolled down all the windows in the car when they entered. She failed.
The drive to the hospital was incredibly long. So long that Harin managed to read another sixty-three pages of her book — she had packed it in her backpack before leaving — occasionally rubbing the sick girl’s head that was in her lap. Once they made it to the hospital, Harin helped the girl out, supporting her by putting her arm around her shoulder. When they made it into the reception area, Harin told the receptionist what was going on, the sick girl chiming in every so often. They were given a hospital bed in the general ED, the nurses hooked the sick girl to the different machines so that they could monitor her vitals.
After twenty minutes, the curtain was pulled open and a male doctor walked in, closing the curtain behind him. “Hello,” he greeted, holding an iPad close to his side. He briefly glanced at the sick girl, who was lying with her eyes closed, feeling a bit groggy. “The nurses told me a bit of what happened, but can you tell me again?” He asked Harin, who nodded.
“Yes. We’re trainees at SM Entertainment and I was eating lunch when she walked in and she was sweating a bit, but she said she hadn’t done any physical activity. She also said that she was feeling sick in the morning so she didn’t go to school. Um, she said she went to the cafeteria to have lunch because of a sore stomach, but that when she got there, she lost her appetite. Then I suggested she drink some water, I can’t remember if I said it should be warm or not. She went to get water, I don’t know if she did, but she was leaning on the wall holding her stomach. There was more sweat on her forehead and her temperature was high. Then she vomited on me and we came here,” Harin told the doctor.
“Okay, okay,” the doctor nodded. “I’m her doctor, Park Seungho. What is her name?”
Harin pursed her lips, trying to remember if she was told the girl’s name. “Hey, who are you?” She asked the girl.
The girl opened her eyes, looking at Harin with a weak offended expression. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t know who you are,” Harin said.
“Yes, you do. I’m Yuri! I gave you a tour of the company.”
Harin nodded her head. “Hi, Yuri,” she said before facing the doctor again. “Her name is Kwon Yuri and she was born in December of 1989,” she told him, watching as he wrote the information down on his iPad.
Walking over, he looked at Yuri’s vitals. “Her temperature is quite high,” he muttered. “I’ll have a nurse come draw her blood and take it to the lab,” he said before leaving.
“Yah,” Yuri weakly called out, pointing an accusatory finger at Harin. “How could you not know who I am?”
“Humble yourself. I have facial blindness,” Harin told her. “You look like an entirely different person.”
“Facial blindness? What’s that?”
“I can’t recognise people.”
“Not even your parents?”
“Well, if it’s someone that I see often, like my parents, then I pay attention to any distinguishing features they might have. Like, my mom has a beauty spot in her cupid’s bow and my dad has a scar by his jaw from when he was young. I also pay attention to their voice, footsteps, hairstyle, and clothes.”
“Ah… And their scent?”
Harin shook her head. “I don’t have a sense of smell.”
“You can’t smell?”
The loudness of Yuri’s voice shocked Harin a bit.
“Yeah. It’s nothing worth paying attention to.”
“So you don’t know what tteokbokki smells like?”
Harin stared at her in shock. “N–No. No, I don’t.” She shook her head, pretending to be upset.
“Not even kimbap?”
“N–Not that either.”
“What about–”
“I don’t know what anything smells like,” she interrupted. “Anything, so…”
At that moment, a nurse came into the room. “I’m here to take her blood,” he told Harin.
“Oh, yes. I’ll get out of your way.” She walked out of the curtain to stand outside. A few moments later, the nurse came out. Harin popped back inside, going back to standing in the corner. Yuri looked like she was falling asleep, her head lolling to the side every few seconds.
“Yuri,” she whispered as she picked up her bag. The girl looked at Harin, a questioning expression on her face. “Scooch over.”
“What?”
Harin repeated herself, “Scooch over. There’s nowhere for me to sit and I’m tired of standing.”
“Okay.” Yuri shifted to her right, creating space for Harin to sit on the hospital bed.
Harin dug around in her bag for the book she was reading before joining Yuri on the bed. She began to read it again, focusing on the words on the page.
Yuri cleared her throat. “Read to me,” she requested.
“What?”
“I’m bored and I don’t have anything to do. Read to me,” she repeated.
Harin shook her head in disbelief. “Okay then.” She sighed and began to read her book out loud. She managed to read five sentences before Yuri spoke again.
“What is this book about?” She asked, displeasure coating her tone.
“Cardiology,” Harin answered. “It’s what I’m going to study in university, so I’m reading this book about the basics.”
Yuri hummed monotonously in acknowledgement, her facial expression not changing. “Okay.” She sighed. “It’s boring,” she said, interrupting Harin as she was just about to continue reading.
“I can’t really do much about that.”
“Do you have any other books?”
Harin nipped her bottom lip as she thought. “I have Matilda,” she offered.
Yuri thought for a second before nodding her head. “Okay.”
Harin stood up from the bed to retrieve the book from her bag. She returned to the hospital bed and started reading from the first page. She made it to the second chapter before Yuri started groaning.
“You smell really bad,” she whined.
“You vomited on me,” Harin dismissed her complaint.
“Ew,” Yuri groaned, blocking her nose with her fingers.
“I should be the one complaining,” Harin muttered under her breath. “Should I read to you or not?”
Yuri quieted down as she thought. “Read.”
“Okay.” Harin continued to slowly read the book to Yuri, stopping every now and then whenever the sick girl started groaning. After another five chapters, the doctor returned to the room. He told the girls that Yuri had a stomach bug and would just need IV and to rest when she got home. When he told her not to go to training until she was totally okay, she pouted a bit.
“Doctor,” Yuri called out just before the doctor left, “is there a Lost & Found here?”
“Yes, there is. Why do you ask?” Seungho tilted his head in curiosity.
Yuri weakly lifted her hand to point at Harin. “I vomited on her and she smells bad.” Harin resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Is there anything she can change into?”
Seungho looked at Harin, his eyes widening as if he just noticed the dry vomit on her shirt and jeans. “Oh, I’ll ask one of the nurses to bring you something to change into.”
“Thank you.” Harin bowed her head as he left. She continued reading the book, only stopping when a nurse came by with clothes for her to change into. Once she returned from the bathroom after changing, she put her clothes in her bag.
After some time, a nurse checked on Yuri’s IV, and offered her something to eat for dinner. Realising the time, Harin stood up.
“I think I’ll go now,” she said.
“Really?” Yuri gasped.
“Yeah, it’s getting late and I have training and homework, so…” She trailed off as she shouldered her bag. “Where should I go to pay?” She asked the nurse, who directed her to a part of the hospital.
When Harin got to the payment centre, she pulled out her debit card. When she left Italy to come to Korea, her parents gave her €200 to convert to Korean Won. They told her that they would give her a monthly allowance of €100, which she didn’t use very often since she was still only a student. Thus, she had most of her allowance and was able to pay Yuri’s hospital bill with no problem.
Harin went back to Yuri’s room to tell her that she paid for everything and to get better soon before leaving. She got on a bus to the SM Entertainment building, getting off a few blocks early. Walking up to a pay phone, she called her dad’s number and listened to the ringing sound. It ended up going to voicemail and she sighed.
“Please answer,” she muttered under her breath, calling him two more times, but he still didn’t answer. She bit her bottom lip, looking around the park, the setting sun casting a golden light everywhere. Knowing she only had only one option, she took a steadying breath before dialling a different number.
“Hello?” Eunkyung answered after the third dial.
“Hi, mum. It’s me.”
There was silence for a while. “Hi. How are you?”
“I’m good, I’m good. How are… How are you?”
“I’m good.” There was some more prolonged silence. “Look, Harin, I’m really busy, so–”
“Yeah, yeah, um… I just wanted to tell you that I used some of my allowance today. It wasn’t a lot.”
“Okay. Is that all?” There was impatience in her tone.
Harin sighed. “Yes, mum. That’s all.”
“Okay. Bye.”
“Bye. Say hi to dad and Harrison for me.”
Eunkyung hummed before ending the call. Harin put the phone back in the holder, her shoulders sagging. She hadn’t really spoken to her mom since coming to Korea, only to her dad. She knew her mom was angry with her for wanting a career in the arts instead of in medicine, and she just couldn’t deal with the constant disappointment and judgement.
Not for the first time, she thought of Matilda, born in a family that didn’t understand her. But she had a Miss Honey, someone who cared for her and supported her. Harin likened herself to Matilda a lot; her dad understood her but didn’t necessarily support her, her brother supported her but didn’t necessarily understand her, and her mom… cared for her in her own way, though Harin never felt it. Not for the first time, Harin prayed for her Miss Honey, someone she wouldn’t have to constantly prove herself to.
Shaking herself from her thoughts, she took a shuddering breath and rolled her shoulders back, continuing to worry on her bottom lip. She made the short walk to the SM Entertainment building, ready to attend her singing lessons, getting one step closer to her dream.
bonus:
A few days later, Harin was in one of the vocal rooms; she had booked it to have a private session. She was in the middle of a song when she heard a knock on the door. Pressing pause on the backtrack, she went to open the door, seeing a girl dressed in black leggings, a red, cropped shirt, and blue sneakers. Her hair was in a high ponytail and she had a bracelet around her wrist.
“Hi!” She greeted energetically, the bracelet jingling as she waved. “I’ve been looking for you the past few days, but I couldn’t find you anywhere. I wanted to thank you for taking me to the hospital the other day,” she said.
Harin nodded, finally knowing who the girl in front of her was. “It’s no problem, Yuri.”
“Yeah, I’m just really thankful an–” She abruptly stopped speaking, a confused expression taking over her features. “You speak Korean?” She asked, pointing an accusatory finger at Harin.
“Yeah.”
“I thought you didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because you told me that.”
“I didn’t,” Harin denied, slightly shaking her head. “You assumed I couldn’t speak Korean and I didn’t feel the need to correct you. Besides, we were speaking Korean when we were at the hospital, and when I was reading Matilda, it was in Korean,” she pointed out.
“Oh. I– Anyways, I wanted to thank you,” she said, putting her hand down. “And to say that if you ever need help with something, then you can come to me.”
“Thank you, Yuri. I’ll keep that in mind.” Harin flashed her a genuine smile, which she reciprocated.
“Great! I’ll let you get back to…” She gestured at the room as she started to back away. “Bye.”
“Bye.”
tagging: @lyskooluv [send an ask or dm to be added to or removed from the taglist]
©️ jang harin
#ficnetfairy#snsd 9th member#snsd ninth member#snsd oc#snsd addition#snsd added member#snsd extra member#snsd member au#snsd imagines#kpop oc#kpop addition#kpop added member#kpop extra member#kpop imagines#kpop au#harin :: rinyul#harin :: scenarios
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alrighty i told myself i was allowed to watch ep 2 during dinner so:
oh joke is proper-proper besotted. i honestly thought joke had just recently noticed zo, maybe had a tiny crush, but i'm beginning to think the timeline has to be longer. this boy is deep in the feels. now i'm really curious: what was with the whole freshman year animosity?
ohhh okok interesting, so at first i thought p'wave had a thing for zo and had clocked joke's interest, but now i'm wondering if its because there's something going on on the mentor level. is this like... romeo & juliet but with college department mentor-mentee pairs?? xD the almost insultingly obvious 'danger' music playing when the mentor is talking to joke is... well i guess they wanted to make it clear that there is a -gasp- hidden agenda going on.
(ngl i thought the hidden agenda was just going to be that joke likes zo. like i thought that was it. i guess its nice that the stakes will be slightly higher.)
like in some sense joke is being incredibly blatant and clear. like i know zo's going to get upset at some point about whatever joke's hiding, but in his defence he's laying some really obvious clues down about the genuineness of his feelings. is zo not picking up on any of the signals because he assumes that joke is straight because of his dating history?
okay let me just say, on some subconscious level zo must trust joke because if someone reached for my glasses without explanation or warning you better believe it i would slap their hand away so fast like you don't mess with the only thing giving me the ability to see. D:<
also omg lets just appreciate joong's little pout!!! *O* also also, the whole "you have a crush?? tell me who!" "no." "i promise not to tell!!" "no." convo was very cute. <3
so interesting choice of words here. "can't" not "won't". is that an accurate nuance i wonder?? also, you can't tell anyone? just how bad is this secret??
oh we are just flying through all the cheesy romantic tropes aren't we?? *U* listen i'm a simple girl at heart, yes this kind of thing does it for me and i won't apologise. <3 (please tell me at some point there's going to be a piggyback ride. its gotta happen.)
so far the show has teased:
some kind of backstory/fight/misunderstanding between jokezo in their freshman year
some kind of history (antagonistic) between their mentors
joke has a 'hidden agenda' (secret) which could be related to either or both of the above that he "can't" share with zo (yet)
this is a nice set of possibilities for a good amount of extremely low stakes angst and fluff so i'm very happy. ^w^
i am hoping for zo to get more depth soon because right now he's a bit of an unknown. i'm used to having a better handle on both leads by the end of ep 2. i guess we learn that he likes debating and has aspirations to win that award, but we haven't learned why. like for now i care about him solely because he's being played by dunk and joong is very good at looking at him like he hung the moon and stars in the night sky.
#hidden agenda#hidden agenda the series#jokezo#joongdunk#i was promised a joongdunk feast and so far the show is definitely delivering <3#ok back to reading about education theory i guess T____T#hidden agenda ep2#rambles about shows i'm watching
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𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇♡𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄. ⁰¹
summary. he's like a living legend. but he still has only eyes for you. crazy, right?
content. highschool au, fluff, slowburn, childhood friends to lovers, umemiya may seem ooc, little angst.
wordcount. ~1.63k.
❨📁❩ ← previous. ❨🗂️❩ → masterlist. ❨📁❩ → next.
TIREDLY you yawned as you stared at the two lonesome figures infront of the gate, silently wondering what they're talking about while you waited for a certain swept-back white-haired boy. Now you were pretty damn curious, but you have an Idea about the main theme of their conversation. You watched as he turned his back to her and started to walk up to you. Only to be stopped by a little yell from the persistent girl.
Your head went up to the someone who stood infront of your table as you were seated on your chair. You slowly stopped doodling all over your notebook while waiting for the girl to speak up her issue. No way in hell would she want to voluntarily talk to you. Because you recognized her as one of your classmate you don't have much contact with. So why is she standing there silently?
"Is there something I can help you with?" you spoke up first, impatiently waiting for her to say anything.
"O-Oh. [lastname]-san. I heard you are a good friend of Umemiya-san, so I wanted to ask you if you can... introduce me to him." her gaze was everywhere but on you.
But you couldn't blame her. You literally drilled two holes in her head with your [e/c]-colored eyes. And after hearing her reason to approach you, you deadpanned at the mention of his name before sighing out tired. This isn't the first time someone approached you to ask about that white-haired guy. Even people you never saw in your entire life reached out to you to meet him or to get a glance at him.
Was he some kind of legend or what?
If you answer no then she'd probably keep pestering you to meet him, you know with only one look. Another sigh left your lips as you stared at the clock. "Yeah sure." you muttered, watching how her eyes lit up and how she began to wear a bright smile. Just when you thought you were done with school and thought you can stay longer to doodle in your notebook, this girl came into the picture and ruined your plans.
Maybe if you've stayed a bit longer to do your own things, he would've gone home by himself. But as soon as you looked out the window, you grimaced slightly. "Ah. I thought wrong again." you turned away and packed up your things. Damn yourself for thinking like a naiv child. And damn him for not leaving you alone. "What did I ever do wrong to deserve this. Luck is never on my side..."
“—Umemiya-san, please let me thank you.”
The white-haired boy let out a melodic chuckle as he waves his hands around. He looked at the girl who was bowing down for saving her from some creeps last time. "Oh no. I did something natural as a Bofurin member. No need to thank me for it, really!" he smiled at her. The sun was shining down, but it pretty looked much like the rays of sunlight were only meant for him.
She stood up straight again to look at him again. The grip around her schoolbag was getting tighter. "No! I don't know how I'd end up if it wasn't for you. I really want to thank you somehow. Uhm— I heard you like the Café Potos. Maybe I can invite you to a meal?" she offered with her rosy cheeks. The man infront of her was really handsome. And it was hard for her to not blush around him.
"Please don't waste your money on me." he still wore the smile, his eyes softened. "Well then."
With that he turned his back to her. But she immediately got panic as she reached out for him. "Wait please!" she yelled, making him stop as he turned around again. "M-May I get your contact info?" she asked timmidly, holding up her cute decorated phone. "I... really wanna stay in contact, you know?.." she added, looking away to avoid meeting his eyes. The hot feeling in her stomach made her feel like exploding anytime.
"I'm sorry." Umemiya got the hint and apologized with slight frown. "There's a woman I already like."
"Oh." she froze on her spot, the hot feeling of embarrassment grew as she lowered her gaze.
"I've liked her for a long time. I don't think I'll fall out of love..." he explained, rubbing his neck. "I'm really sorry."
Blue eyes landed on his own hand. On top of his palm is a pressed withered flower, now a part of his necklace. The flower which was once a rose with a beautiful light-pink color. A memory of a bewitching, beautiful lady flashed in his mind. Shining [h/c] hair. Glittering [e/c] eyes. A graceful girl watering her pretty plants in the garden. But no flower can match her beauty at all. He'll never forget that.
With that being said, he turned around again and slowly made his way to you. His frown immediately was replaced with the happiest smile as he quickly ran towards you with open arms, attempting to let you feel his warmth and wrap his arms around your body. "Gross." you furrowed your eyebrows and dodged. "You dare to keep me waiting and now you want to hug me? Yeah, no way."
"Awh! [name]-chan, don't be like that!" he smiles at you brightly. "You're so mean!"
"Yeah of course. I just have something against you." you shrugged your shoulders and began to walk away.
"[name]-chan, don't leave me! I need to show you my cute little plants!"
The left behind girl stared at the boy who, just seconds ago, seemed like an independent man follow you with his phone in his hands while you calmly walked down the sidewalk, not really interested in whatever he was showing you. You, the girl who despises violence hanging up with the leader of Bofurin? You, the girl who always stood in the background. What kind of joke is this.
She noticed. You're the woman he talked about.
─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─
"You know. One day if your girlfriend sees how you keep clinging onto me, she wouldn't be happy about that." you sighed for the nth time this day.
"What am I hearing? Are you worried about my future girlfriend not liking you?" he tilted his head to the side.
"No, i'm just saying so you'll stop sticking against me." you said without taking a glance at him. "Aren't you worried about your love life?"
"Nah, i'm in love with the most beautiful woman on earth."
As soon as he said that, you pulled out your phone and began tipping before stopping to show him your phone. "It is said that Bella Hadid is the most beautiful woman in the world." you showed your search results. He froze and stared at you while sweatdropping. "I don't think you're in your crush's league." you sighed. "Please give her up, yeah? Crush on someone else, Umemiya."
"Please..." he smiled at you again and gave you his hand. "Call me by my first name. And give me the answer. Taking my hand is yes, rejecting means no."
You eyed his calloused, rough hand. It's a bit dirty. Was it the soil from gardening? Or was it dirt from fighting? You don't really like to touch dirty things. At all. You were a bit of a germophobe when it came to touching things. So you hesitated. But in the end you lifted your hand and placed it on top of his, while your gaze laid on your now interwined hands. His hand was warm compared to your cold one.
"Hajime." his given name rolled out your tongue smoothly.
The excitment was visible on his face, as he bit his quivering lip. The smile grew to the biggest and brightest one. "Yeah?" he lifted his eyes from your hands and to look at your rather stoic face. The warm sun engulfed your both figures into it's depth, while the wind was blowing gently, letting your hair dance with it's rhythms. Perfectly in harmony with the shining. The silence was bearable, comfortable even.
"Is there anyone else who gets to call you by your first name?" you asked quietly.
"No. Nobody does. They call me by my nickname »Ume« or »Ume-chan«. Why?"
"Just wanted to make sure that I'm the first one." you answered before turning away. "I'm pretty special, aren't I?"
"Yeah, of course you are." only you can let him feel the same fuzzy feeling, of course you're special.
"Sometimes I wonder how you can keep up with this. Me." you're pointing at yourself, at your stoic personality as you kept walking further, him following after you.
"Don't know. You're special." he still smiles happily. He always smiles. But that's fine. You can always look at him, and he would look at you with the same warmth. He is much more special. More than you'll ever be.
"[name]." he called out your name.
"Hmm?"
"Do you like yourself?"
"Most of the time."
"Then you don't need to worry about my girlfriend not liking you."
"What? I think she'll hate me for touching your hand first."
"Uh huh. Sure."
At this reply, you furrowed your eyebrows slightly and your eyes went to him. He was still looking at you while following every step. "What are you even talking about, stupid?" you sighed. "Sometimes you're talking bullshit." and weirdly enough, you like to listen to his rant about—he can rant about anything and you'll listen, even though you don't understand. You avoided his stare.
While his eyes never left you, not even for a second.
- NAN0KA [ may 30th, 2024 ]
#windbreaker x reader#wind breaker x reader#wind breaker#hajime umemiya x reader#umemiya hajime x reader#umemiya x reader#umemiya hajime#hajime umemiya#anime#manga
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#VENTI SEEING HIS PAST SELF AND JUST. “hoo boy how do i deal with this one!”#“i know exactly how badly i was handling everything back then” (this and all other tags are via @lanternlightss!)
Exactly sdfgfdsg Like there's the moment of short circuiting at seeing *yourself* but also just. I know first hand just how messed up I was and man how do I approach that-
#PERHAPS THIS IS WHAT RAGNVINDR FELT#aqua. aqua. aqua im going to fucking bawl#and if the other sees something in his expression they do not comment on it what if i EXPLODE. into PIECES
I am. A fan. Of those Venti looks at his own reflection and sometimes it fucking gets him angst I also think that part of the reason Ragnvindr left and their relationship remained tense even if I see them reconciling somewhat is because Venti shares the bard's face and watching the face of someone you know is long gone stay unaging and express hurt is painful.
Sure at this point in the future I do think that Venti has gotten better at dealing with it and understands why Ragnvindr did what he did. But ho b o i seeing it first hand outside of a reflection would probably still throw him for a loop.
Oh also I imagine past Venti to still be in archon robes so that's how present Venti clocked which part of the timeline that one is from so fast. But on the flip side, past Venti might have thought and hoped that it was the bard, if only for a moment. And maybe, just a little bit, they pretended that it was.
#past venti seeing the future and seeing that it turns out okay in the end#AUGHHH#DOES IT GET BETTER. DOES IT STOP HURTING#IM GOKNA CRY#PAST VENTI IS NUST HESITANT HOPE HUH
I imagine that post rebellion Venti was just A bundle of nerves
Like yeah they won the battle against Decarabian, but they also lost so many loved ones, they have to deal with divinity and a new form, they had to rebuild Mond. They're new to all this too! So the uncertainty of the future was probably terrifying (Dunno if they know all the songs at this point but I feel like that would be another mess of powers to sort out with their newfound godhood tbh) So yeah! Seeing future Mond, and seeing how it appeared to be thriving was a big relief. And so Venti allows themself to relax a little bit, and to tentatively begin to hope.
#he had never spared himself that mercy in the past#like. what if i just wailed.#ITS A LOT HARDER BEING RUDE TO YOURSELF#When it’s an entirely separate being!!!!#points LOUDLY#like looking into a mirror but they are so confused looking back#and you just. cant bring it in yourself to be cruel. to say the same things you once had told yourself at one point#you want to be kinder so they may turn out the slightest bit better
POINTS BACK AT YOU!!! EXACTLY!!!!!
It's a lot easier to be kind to others than yourself and you know, the whole "that person looks exactly like someone I care about dearly" probably doesn't make it any easier to be mean lol
#a promise of gentler winds. im gonna vanish into dust
I really wanted venti to do some kind of comforting gesture and since they're already at windrise and I'm a sucker for how cecilias have been through hard times but many of mond's other specialties have never known that harsh wind So like what if flower symbolism What if Venti gave the anemo archon flowers that love the wind and grow exclusively in areas with a gentle nourishing breeze. What if past Venti got some love and care
#“barbatos smiles” may i ask if this is what you felt with the “i love you?” im gonna disintegrate
I've said it before and I'll say it again "I love you" left me in literal fucking tears I had to put down my phone I will never emotionally recover-
But that aside fun fact! I left the last line a little ambiguous on purpose! There are 3 ways you can interpret it (and they can absolutely co-exist!)
The first way is probably the most obvious. Where it's a direct callback to the line "They say nothing as they drink in the future, but they almost smile." Now finally comforted, past Venti finally smiles and lets themself hope for a better future.
Something you can note for this take is that Venti is referred to as "Barbatos". Before this point in the fic past Venti has been referred to as "the other" in some way. I don't know if it's clear but this is present Venti sort of removing himself from the situation. It's easier to be nice to someone else and all that. Past Venti being finally referred to by name in present Venti's pov? In a way, that's also Venti acknowledging that they are the same, and coming to the realisation that yeah, maybe he deserved more kindness too.
The second is that present Venti is the one smiling, because he's finally figured out what to say to the other, and in the process feels a little bit more at peace with himself. Something something healing your inner child and realising that you deserve to be treated with kindness even by yourself (especially by yourself)
And the last one is basically a combo of the two! Both of them are smiling and "Barbatos" is used as a shared name to refer to them both (cuz it felt a tiny bit confusing to use Venti when that's been used for present Venti specifically in the fic lol)
Venti was at a loss for what to do.
That was…that was him wasn't it? The figure on the floor? The one looking around lost and afraid? That was him, right after the rebellion. And now they were looking right at him.
Venti would like to think that he was good with people, good at reading them and comforting them. Thousands of years of practice will do that. But what does one do with the person in need of comfort is one's past self?
Archons, I was a wreck back then That was his first thought.
Ah but seeing someone with that face, seeing them so distraught, as an observer…perhaps this is what Ragnvindr had felt. Venti helps the new god up. And if the other sees something in his expression, they do not comment on it.
________
Windrise has always brought Venti comfort. Yet somewhere so important to him held no sentiment to the other. It’s strange to think about. Regardless, the elemental energy did help them relax a little, as he had hoped.
The new god looks to the skies and sees the birds soaring free, watches the flora sway in the gentle breeze. They say nothing as they drink in the future, but they almost smile.
________
"Does…Does it get better?"
There's a hesitant hope in the question. One that doesn't expect much in response but can't help but hope anyway.
"Does it stop hurting?" is left unspoken.
"..."
For the first time in a long time, Venti does not know what to say.
He thinks back to all that has happened, thinks back to the things that are yet to come for the other. He thinks about the darkness brewing in the present, the songs yet to be sung in the future. He finds his heart hurting for the younger god. Hurting for the pain that will come. And hurting for the pain that has already happened. Strange. He had never spared himself that mercy in the past. What a difference viewing your past self as a separate person makes.
"It will. Eventually." He says, finally. And he hopes that it will too.
"And…it still hurts, sometimes." He admits, not wanting to lie, and watches the other nod. They expected that. His heart breaks a little more.
Venti picks a windwheel aster, carefully tucking it into his younger self's hair. A promise of gentler winds, of peaceful moments in the breeze. "But I promise that it won't always be like this. I promise that it will get easier to deal with in time."
Barbatos smiles.
________
I may have written a little something based on this post about Venti meeting his younger self
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Chapter Two - Dream a Little Dream
Pairing: Bully!Dabi x Fem!Reader, (3rd Person)
Summary: If a boy is picking on you, it means he likes you. She could almost laugh. By that logic, Dabi must’ve been fucking in love with her. That thought was what finally made the tears start to spill. Not because of how ridiculous it was or how isolating it felt.
But because it was exactly what she wanted.
CW: Alternate Universe - No Quirks (My Hero Academia), Dubious Consent, Unhealthy Relationships, Bullying, Manipulation, Humiliation, Childhood Friends, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Power Play, Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Drugs, Alcohol, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Attempted Sexual Assault. Future Tags: Rough Sex, Hate Sex, Smut, Porn With Plot, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst and Porn, Sadism
Read Full Chapter on AO3
[excerpt]
She skipped cleanup duty. The second the clock on the wall hit three, she was bolting out the classroom — not even waiting to hear if the bell had rung or for her homeroom teacher to ask her to hang back and talk about today’s “incident”.
It was the sort of thing she never did at her old school, in her old life, but she had no choice.
Dabi hadn’t come back to class.
Of course, it’s not like that was uncommon. Dabi was a serial skipper even by this school’s standards. It was a strange day when he and his friends actually stayed in their seats for a whole day. She should’ve been used to it by now. And yet, every single time she couldn’t help but panic, couldn’t keep her mind from wandering.
What if he wasn’t just skipping? What if he left the city? Ran away and changed his name a second time? Erased himself from her life for good?
No, she couldn’t stand the idea of losing him like that. Not again. The thought was just too much for her to bear, especially on days like this, where he wasn’t just skipping gym or rolling into English late and high. Where he just took off for the rest of the day. It had her wondering lately if on days like this, she should just skip class too.
Panic filled her chest when he wasn’t in his go-to spot on the roof. It boiled higher and higher when the other spots — behind the P.E building, the defunct gardening club’s abandoned tool shed, the convenience store across the street — all turned up equally empty.
That panic was threatening to spill out of her mouth by the time she’d finally found him and his friends holed up in an alley about halfway between school and the train station.
She nearly collapsed from relief when she saw them, grabbing her knees and doubling over so she could catch her breath, “Th-Thank God…”
The two blondes looked thrilled to see her — Jin with entertained glee, like his favorite trashy reality show just came on — and Keigo with an air of something else entirely, something she really couldn’t discern. But she knew she didn’t like it.
Dabi was the only one who didn’t look happy to see her. He didn’t look especially unhappy either. There was almost a sense of boredom in those heavy-hooded eyes.
He looked at her like she was nothing.
“See, aren't you glad we picked a new spot?” Keigo nudged Dabi and turned back with a grin, “Look how cute and worked up she is.”
Breathing steadied, albeit still a bit flushed, she rose back up to try and plead with Dabi not to scare her like that again, but the words caught in her throat when she saw the joint in his hand.
She looked back towards the traffic of students on the main road. Truth be told, they weren’t that deep into the alley, and there were still a lot of people out, including what looked like a teacher or two.
Just what were they thinking?
“Oi.”
She jumped, attention back to Dabi. He motioned for her to come towards them. With one last nervous peek over her shoulder, she obeyed.
“You look nervous.”
“O-Oh really? I-I’m not, um, I mean—”
“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Dabi taunted before taking a long hit.
“Of course I am!” she cried, quickly catching herself when he scowled at the volume. She dropped her head submissively. “I… I just don’t think you should be doing… that . Especially out in the open like this—”
She held down a gag as he blew a long, steady stream of musty smoke directly into her face, trying to ignore the sting it brought to her eyes as his friends snickered.
But her resolve was rewarded, it seemed, when he reached forward and caught her chin between his long, sturdy fingers.
“Awww ,” he purred, “Is someone worried I’m gonna get caught?”
Her heart jumped straight to her throat as he tilted her up to look at him, completely gripped by the endless sea in his eyes just inches away from her. She’d dreamed for so long to be this close to them again. And yet now that she was here, she could barely handle it. There was an intensity to them that was almost too much to look at.
She squeezed her eyes shut and nodded nervously.
“Well, in that case...”
Her eyes flew back open as she felt his thumb run slowly up her chin and bottom lip. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to see. The hopeless romantic in her had hoped it would be his own eyes closed as he leaned in to kiss her. The realist expected a painful flick on the nose to punish her for having such childish daydreams. But the actuality she was met with wasn’t either of those things.
It was the joint.
“...I guess you better smoke it for me.”
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#dabi#touya todoroki#dabi x reader#touya todoroki x oc#touya todoroki x reader#dabi x oc#dabi x female reader#bully!dabi#smut#dabi smut#touya todoroki smut#touya smut#quirkless au#mha#bnha#mha dabi#bnha dabi#mha smut#bnha smut#burnt bridges fic
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FAILED SURPRISE
PAIRING: Jung Wooyoung x M!Reader
GENRE: Angst/Fluff
WARNING: insecurity, the f word
SUMMARY: It was yours and Wooyoung's anniversary and the older haf planned to surprise you, only yo fail in the end.
You thought sometimes maybe being in a relationship with your one and only best friend would be a bad idea, fully knowing that both your faithful boyfriend and funny best friend would be lost all at the same time if you did decide to break things off with him. You just can't help, but to feel really conscious of yourself whenever you're around Wooyoung.
Every time you were with Wooyoung, you always felt like you were his shadow. Only following and hid behind him, while Wooyoung interacted with many of his friends both girls and boys. Although, from time to time, Wooyoung would introduce you to them as his boyfriend and boasted about how kind you were to him and how he is so lucky to have a boyfriend slash best friend like you, but still you didn't like being the center of attraction, since you don't know what's going on inside their heads. For all you know, they're already thinking of many ways to murder you, due to the fact that these people all love Wooyoung and saw him as more than just a friend.
Some girls would pick on you and call you names like 'fag' or 'cum dumpster' or something of the same sort, but his male friends were really kind enough to stand up for you seeing how you were to scared and weak to do it for yourself. You were even lucky to befriend some of them after a few months of being in the relationship with Wooyoung and the latter couldn't be more happier.
As of now, you were waiting for Wooyoung to arrive at the place where the older had told you would be the venue for your date. You looked at yourself and thought that maybe you were overdressed for the occasion and maybe should've just decided to get dressed up by yourself not with the help of San who likes to doll you up in every fashionable ways. "It's already past 12..." You mumbled to yourself whilst your eyes was fixated at the clock on your phone.
You stored air into your lungs as you leaned yourself away from the table and onto the backrest of the chair, letting all the air out through your nose. You checked if he was somewhere outside of the place, but to no avail. "I can wait... a little longer." You encouraged yourself, arms now rested on top of the table as you placed your head on it unconsciously drifting off to sleep.
You don't know how long you've been asleep, but you awoke to the feeling of your world shaking around you only to find out that one of the employees of the restaurant was trying to wake you up. You fluttered your eyes open and slowly moved your eyes up towards the female who was glancing down at you with a warm smile on her face. "Oh, sir? Hi, hello, I'm sorry for disturbing your much needed sleep, but I'm afraid you have to get going, now. It already is our closing time."
You averted your eyes from her towards outside of the restaurant and saw that it was already getting dark, your lips forming an 'o' shape in realization. "Oh, have I kept the place open for too long?"
The girl shook her head. "Nope. I only stayed to keep you company, since I guessed you were very tired from being at school for five consecutive days in a week and having no time to rest at all." She answered you with a chuckle, you exactly doing the same before you lifted yourself up from where you were sat and gave her a grateful bow and a 'goodbye' as you left the place with a broken smile.
You were checking your phone for any messages from your boyfriend or his friends, but unfortunately you weren't able to find any. "Maybe... maybe..." You tried to trick yourself once more with any type of excuses you could make up with your brain, but you were so hurt that Wooyoung didn't show up that all the pain you felt in your chest was so overwhelming that your tears bursted out of your eyes as you shamelessly wailed and cried as though your life depended on it, you halting from your tracks as you hid your face on one of your arms, covering your face from being seen by prying eyes.
It took you a few good minutes to finally calm yourself down, after a skater who was passing by you happened to see you and had offered you a drink and snack as he guided you to a bench near where you stood. He didn't stay so long and had to leave, since he had a competition to attend to. Finally thinking that you were fine, you continued your way back home, your cheeks stained with tears and eyes bloodshot.
You soon arrived to your shared home with Wooyoung and wondered why you were even there. Your hand was already on the knob of the front door and opted to open it, but you decided to stay outdoors for a little while to take a breather after a few mishaps that had happened to you in just a day. "He seriously decides to hurt me when I'm feeling at my worst and damn it, he doesn't even know I feel hurt with what he'd done."
You moved down the stairs and into one of the swings that was at the front yard of the house and started to play there all by yourself, unaware of the people waiting for you for so long already inside of the house. "Hyung, hyung. Wait, N/n. Why is he crying?" Jongho asked the older male who had also no idea why there would be tears in your eyes.
"He is? Let me see." Wooyoung said, not believing what Jongho saw, but widened his eyes when he was able to confirm that you were indeed crying. "Oh, shit. My poor baby!" Wooyoung exclaimed and moved as fast as he can to get to you even when he was just in his boxers. He just really didn't like to see you crying. It makes his heart ache. "M/n, baby!"
Upon hearing your name getting called, you snapped your head towards the direction of the voice with tears dripping from your eyes and saw Wooyoung only in his tank top and black boxers. Nonetheless, despite the pain he caused you, you stood up from the swing and ran into his arms, Wooyoung taking you in immediately and rested his head on top of yours, caressing your hair with so much care as his face showed all the evidence of his worry and concern for you. "Youngie, why didn't you show up?"
"Show up where?" Wooyoung sounded clearly confused and took his time to look at you as he wiped the tears away from your eyes.
"At ATEEZ Dine-in Cafe. You left me there waiting." You answered Wooyoung, the black haired male about to tell you he didn't tell you anything about meeting somewhere until he remembered about Mingi telling him that you would be away for the meantime, so there was a lot of time to prepare.
Wooyoung sighed and placed your head back down onto his chest and hugged you tighter. "Baby, this was supposed to be a surprise, but for the sake of my explanation, Mingi had to come up with the stupidest idea to text you using my phone to keep you away for a while since I was planning to surprise you on our anniversary." Wooyoung explained to you everything and held your hand as he guided you inside of the house, all the lights turning bright while you got your sight to get accustomed to the light. "This was what I had in store."
"And you plan to do it with just a sleeveless shirt and boxers?" You mocked him, your voice nasally due to your crying.
"I-uh, well, you, I kinda thought you'd like it, since you always told me I look hot wearing only these." Wooyoung sheepishly answered, before he received a slap on the arm by you. "Ow, what was that for?"
"I just realized something." You started with a small glare at the older male. "If Mingi-hyung had texted me through your phone, couldn't you have at least checked it?" You, then raised him a brow, him shamefully looking away from you. You let out a smirk and whispered into his ears. "No sex for a week, then." You said, Wooyoung's mouth falling agape as he watched you waked towards his friends with a regretful look.
"M-M/n, do please think it over." Wooyoung begged, a hand on your arm trying to convince you. "You know how hard it is for me to resist you."
You rolled your eyes at him. "Fine, if I get to top."
Wooyoung was about to say something, but decided not to say it anymore. Just these few words. "On second thought, masturbating while looking at your photos is enough." The statement got everyone cringing, as they all looked at Wooyoung in disgust.
"Good, boy."
#x male reader#bottom male reader#bxb#male reader#idol x male reader#fanfiction#kpop#angsty#ateez x male reader#ateez#ateez wooyoung x male reader#jung wooyoung x male reader#wooyoung x male reader
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and he kissed me right here
pairing: modern!bucky barnes x reader
word count: 6,100
summary: I've always been sure that all I ever wanted was a glamorous life.
warnings: Cuss words, mentions of the Afghanistan war (Bucky is a veteran), angst, happy ending, cheesy romantic confessions, age gap
a/n: This is based on the song 'Stars and the Moon' from Songs for a New World! It's the first one shot in my musical series! This is written in first perspective, but there is no physical description or use of a name in this!
Twenty-Two
I sighed as I tossed a few more dirty plates into the dish window, wiping my brow. After a shitty dinner rush and an even shittier rush around two in the morning consisting only of drunk ass college kids looking for some sort of carb to suck up all the alcohol in their systems, I was ready to go the fuck home.
“Sweetheart, you head on home now,” the head chef insisted as he watched my head nod slightly as I tried my best to fight off sleep. “Ain’t nobody comin’ in before Melissa gets here. No point in you staying on your feet any longer.”
Louis was a godsend. At sixty-seven years old, you’d think he would rather be anywhere but a diner at almost four in the morning.
“Nah,” he had said when I’d asked him a few months after I’d first started. “My Ginny died a few years back, and since she’s been gone, I don’t really have the stomach to sit around that house all alone.” He had laughed, but there’d been a deep sorrow that had come over his deep brown eyes. “Kids are worried, but… Sleeping the day away is better than laying up at night staring at her side of the bed…”
“You sure, Lou?” I asked even as I headed for the back room where all the employees clocked in and kept their possessions in their own little cubbies. I did my checkout in view of the security camera, just like always. I didn’t want anyone to be able to say I stole anything.
Everyone who knew me knew that I wouldn’t, but I’d worked at two many places where the girls tried backstabbing each other and sabotaging everyone else to get them fired.
Though people were a lot nicer in Louisiana than any of the other places I’d lived.
Louis chuckled as he set a to-go box in the window, nodding towards it. “Mmhm. Long as Buck is getting you home safe.”
I gave him a joking eye roll as I took the to-go box gratefully, grinning at my name written in all caps with green Sharpie on top. “You know you don’t have to make me dinner every night.”
“Yes, I do,” he said, shooting me a look. “How else do I know you’re getting enough food in you, huh?” He pointed his rag at me. “Now you go ask him to get you home. Tell him I said he can clock out, and that he’s supposed to text me when he sees you safe inside. You better not say you’re gonna ask him again just to walk yourself home.” The old man shook his head as I headed for the back door, muttering to himself, “Damn girl thinks I’m gonna believe she’s feeding herself good enough when she’s risking her damn ass walking home alone.”
Despite the fact that I’d put off asking for Bucky Barnes’s service, I really did appreciate how fiercely Louis cared about me.
It had been a real long time since anyone had cared so much.
I hesitated at the back door of the diner, my hand resting against the cool metal.
What if he said no?
Granted, he most likely wouldn’t. But what if he said yes, and he secretly thought me some dumb little girl that couldn’t take care of herself?
What did I care if he thought that?
“I don’t care what he thinks of me,” I huffed as I straightened my shoulders, holding my chin a little higher.
“Stop talking to yourself and get going!”
I jumped in surprise, before shooting a glare in the direction of the kitchen. “Stop listening in on my private conversations!” I demanded before storming outside with new found vigor.
Only to freeze when Bucky looked up from where he was sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette.
God, he was handsome.
“You okay, doll face?” He asked, his New York accent a sharp contrast to the southern drawls you were used to.
“Um… Y-Yeah,” I said faintly, glancing back at the door that I’d come in from. “Um… L-Louis wants me to ask you… Can you walk me home? Or give me a ride? I don’t… I don’t know if you drive…”
“I do drive.”
“O-Oh. Okay. Great.”
“But I don’t have my car on me.”
I peered at him curiously. “Oh. Um… I can just walk by myself. I don’t wanna… I don’t wanna be a nuisance…”
He stood up, tossing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out. “Don’t be ridiculous, darlin.’ Come on. I’ll walk you.” He shoved his hands in his pockets as he began to head for the street. “Besides… It’s a real nice night.”
“Oh…,” I said in surprise at how ready he was to be of service. “Okay. But only if you’re sure.”
A faint smile graced his lips as he glanced at the ground, letting out a faint chuckle that rumbled deep in his chest. “I’m sure, darlin.’ But you gotta lead the way.”
I was surprised by the rapid pitter patter of my heart beat as we walked side by side down the street, the chorus of ‘Yellow Brick Road’ getting stuck in my head on a loop.
Bucky was an enigma that I found myself wondering about more often than not, but I always ended up talking myself out of going there. After all, he was an older man. A much older man. At least fifteen years older than my own twenty-two years, or something along those lines, not that he looked it. The man looked like some kind of rugged Greek god. Like Hades if Hades was born in the eighties. His dog tags clinked together under his shirt as we walked, his metal prosthetic glinting in the moon.
“So how did you end up in NOLA?”
It took me a moment to even realize that he was talking to me, my heart skipping a beat and my face going hot in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” I asked.
His bright blue eyes flickered over to look me over. “How’d you end up in New Orleans?”
“I actually don’t know,” I snorted, avoiding his eyes as I kicked at a few broken up pieces of asphalt. “I just… Picked a bus ticket and ended up in one of the Carolinas. Then I picked another bus ticket and ended up in Minnesota. And then I picked another, and another, and another, and then I actually just… ended up here.” The months I’d spent alone on those Greyhounds felt both so long ago and also like it was just yesterday. “The diner was the first place someone recommended for food that’s good but cheap, and as I was eating my mountain of cheese fries, I saw the flyer that said they were hiring. So here I am now…”
“Huh,” he said, his brows furrowed. “I didn’t take you for the type of person to run off on your own… riding buses all over the country…”
Head tilting to the side, I gave him a long look. “You didn’t? What kind of type did you peg me for?”
Bucky gave me a long look, a single brow raised as though silently telling me that I jumped to conclusions. “Just that jumping from place to place can take a lot outta someone,” he said slowly, his voice low and soothing. “Hell, if you were my girl—” He broke off as his cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink, his long hair falling in his face.
I swore my heart had stopped inside of my chest, and I swallowed thickly around the lump in my throat. “Oh?”
He rushed to try to correct his wording. “I-I just mean, a lady should be comfortable. And if I had a g-girl like you, well… You’d never want for anything,” he stammered, stumbling over his words like a flustered school boy. “Hell, I… I’d give you the stars and the moon…”
I was shocked into silence, staring up at him like he was the sun itself. “Bucky…”
“No, no, don’t say anything. I… I know that was a lot,” he insisted quietly, unable to meet your eyes as he stared up at the shitty apartment building you called home. “Hell, you probably don’t want a gross old man hitting on you.” His metal hand, glinting in the low light of the street lamp, reached up to brush against my cheek for just a moment before it quickly dropped. “Just let me walk you home each night so I can make sure you’re safe, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I breathed out, unable to take my eyes off of him as he took a few steps back.
There’s a somewhat playful smirk on his lips as he watched me stumble up the steps, continuously glancing back at him. “Goodnight, baby doll.”
“Goodnight,” I said, barely audible before I finally headed inside.
Bucky kept his word. He walked me home every night, and honestly, there wasn’t a moment that I wasn’t thinking about what he had said, about if I was his girl.
What if I was his girl?
But… with that meant I’d have to give up the life I’d dreamed for myself. I wanted luxury, to never worry about bills or where I was gonna get my next meal or if I could afford to buy the nice work shoes or if I could only get the cheap ones that would fall apart in three months and then I’d just be right back where I started.
I wanted the life that celebrities lived. Hell, I wanted to go to parties on the same yachts the Kardashian-Jenners did, even if I couldn’t fucking stand them.
And with Bucky… I wouldn’t have that.
“So why’d you go on the run anyway?” Bucky asked one night as we sat on the curb, eating ice cream in the Louisiana heat. “I know you told me how you got here, but you’ve never told me why.”
“You’ve never told me how you ended up here or why either,” I shot back, nudging his shoulder with my own.
Somehow the age difference seemed non-existent as we sat there. Honestly, I felt like we were just a bunch of dumb teenagers, shooting the shit and enjoying each other’s company.
Bucky took in a deep breath, his shoulders sinking in a way that made it look like he had all the weight of the world on his shoulders. “I was over in Afghanistan for a long time,” he admitted quietly. “When the war first started, I was 19. I had no idea where my life was going and I had no options except my dad’s mechanic shop. So I enlisted with my best friend, Steve. The one I told you about.”
It’s completely silent except for the sound of an occasional car horn off in the distance.
“Neither one of us knew what we were doing. We realized very quickly that we had no reason being over there, but… but there was nothing else,” he said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. The ice cream he was holding was melting in his trembling hands. “I didn’t know how to do anything else, so I stayed. Steve moved up in the ranks, but I stayed pretty low… I didn’t mind. Kinda liked being the older guy all those young kids could talk to, could rely on… Because they were just like me, getting into a fight that wasn’t theirs because they had nothing else.”
My heart was shattering inside my chest as I scooted a little closer, my knee knocking against his as I tried to give him some sort of silent comfort. He’d been through Hell and made it through.
Bucky let his head rest against mine, his eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of my perfume. “They eventually moved me to some kind of specialized team… Called us the Howling Commandos. I found out that Steve was heading it and he picked me to be part of it. That’s how I met Sam, because he was on some sort of similar team with the Air Force, except it was just him and his friend, Riley,” he continued, taking a bite of his chocolate fudge brownie ice cream. “I am proud to say that I didn’t kill a single person while I was over there. I just couldn’t. Hell, they’re people just like me, terrified and unsure of what’s going to happen.” His lips pressed against my forehead, letting it linger. “But then about five years ago, I was on a mission with the Commandos, Sam, and Riley, and… this bomb went off while we were playing a game of soccer. I wasn’t even in a fight. That thing took my arm and it took Riley.”
Tentatively, I let my fingers find his, holding his hand and squeezing reassuringly.
“Sam decided to come home with me.” There was a forlorn look in his eyes, as though he was right back at that game of pick-up soccer. “After losing Riley… he couldn’t find a reason to be over there. And then Steve decided to stay, and hell, he’s still over there, leading that fucking team…” Glassy baby blue eyes finally found mine, the both of us doing our best to not cry. “I couldn’t face my family for a long time, so Sam asked me to come stay in Louisiana with him and his family, and I haven’t left since.”
“Have you gone to see your family?” I asked slowly, almost like I was scared I’d frighten him if I spoke too loudly, like a wild animal. “Let them know where you are? That you’re safe?”
He turned to look at me, his baby blues shining. “You worried about me, baby doll?”
“I can’t help it,” I said honestly, unable to tear my eyes away. I hadn’t opened up to someone like that in so damn long. “I can’t help but worry about you.”
The way that I felt about Bucky absolutely terrified me, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. It snuck up on me, like a train coming around a bend.
I hated it.
“What do you want out of this life?” Bucky asked on one walk home, his arm linked in mine. He’d become so much more… tactile. If anyone took a moment to look at us, they’d think we were a couple on a romantic stroll.
Perhaps we were.
But I couldn’t help but grin as I looked up at the sky, taking in the warm air. “I wanna live like how the movie stars do… I want a big house on the beach and twenty cars and a yacht and… and…”
He looked at me long and hard. “And you never wanna have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, if you’re gonna have a place to sleep at night…”
For some reason, I’d felt a bolt of panic over whether or not he’d understand. Whether or not he’d think differently of me, but I should’ve known that he wouldn’t. Hell, he knew me better than anyone else.
“You understand,” I said quietly, my hand squeezing his bicep gratefully. “I want to live how the other half lives for once. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”
A small smile graced his features as we shuffled along. “There isn’t. But… What about love?” He asked.
“Love?”
“Love.”
Love.
Could I even have love? Did I want it?
“I don’t know if there’s a lot of room for love in my plans,” I admitted after a long moment. “In my experience, love has always just been a lie. A word used to manipulate and eventually abuse.”
Letting out a snort, he let his fingers tickle down my tricep until his fingers intertwined with mine. “I’d show you it’s not… I’d show you what real love is,” he said. “I’d give you every part of me, give you all my strength to help you grow into who you wanna be, even if I don’t particularly care about being famous or rich…” He brought my hand to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’ll give you a love story, a life, that’s a million times better than any recycled Hollywood plot… I’ll give you the stars and the moon, if you would just let me.”
I hated the way that he made my heart beat faster, the way my breath hitched. “Jamie,” I breathed out quietly, the two of us having stopped in our tracks to just… take each other in. Live in each other’s presence for a moment. “I…”
“You want a big life… one a lot bigger than little old me,” he said simply, shrugging. His blue eyes were so honest, so loving. So warm. A warmth I hadn’t ever experienced before. “I know. But that doesn’t change that I’m in love with you. And if you ever change your mind…” Bucky reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, pressing it into my free hand. “This is where you can find me. I figure it’s time for me to go home.”
We’d come to a stop in front of my building, and I was shocked at how tight my chest felt. My eyes watered as I stared at him long and hard. “Jamie, please… I⏤”
“Don’t say it. It’s okay,” he insisted as he cupped my cheek, letting his thumb run over my skin as though he was memorizing it. “I just want you to be happy, darling. You got that?” His lips pressed to my forehead, letting it linger. “Go get that life you’ve been dreaming of.”
Twenty-Three
I left New Orleans the next day, grabbing a bus ticket after throwing all of my belongings into my old duffel bag. It was time to move on.
But God, did it hurt.
I didn’t stop crying for weeks, fighting the urge to go right back to Louisiana and tell Bucky to take it back, to get him to beg me to stay with him.
But what kind of life would that leave me with? Working in the diner day after day? Never getting anywhere?
But you’d have James, a voice inside my head reminded me snarkily.
Then again, he most likely wasn’t even in New Orleans anymore, if what he said was true when he gave me the business card of his father’s mechanic shop. Was he really planning on going home to New York City?
A few months later, and I’d worked my way all through the southwest to Santa Fe, where I met Pietro.
My heart was pounding as I pressed in the familiar numbers, having memorized them from the business card now soft and faded from how often I held it in my hands like a lifeline. “Come on… Pick up… Pick up…”
“Barnes Tires and Motors, this is George,” a man said in a gruff voice when he finally picked up. “How can I help you?”
“H-Hi, is James there? James Barnes? Bucky?” I stammered out, hands trembling so bad that the old payphone was almost rattling.
There was a pause, and then muffled talking away from the phone.
And then I heard it being picked up. “This is Bucky,” he said.
It felt like the wind had been knocked right out of my lungs. How had I gone so long without hearing his voice?
Breathing in sharply, I tried to figure out the words to say. But my throat was dry and it was like I’d suddenly forgotten the entire English language.
That was all that it took for Bucky to realize it was me. “Baby doll? Baby doll, is that you?” He asked quietly. “I…” He took in a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. “You don’t gotta say a thing, sweetheart… But just know that if you’re in trouble or you need help or… or anything at all, you better call me…” His voice wavered, as though he was fighting tears just like I was. “God, I miss you so much, baby doll. I love you.”
I love you, too.
I hung up before I could actually say the words. “God, I’m so fucking stupid,” I whispered as I leaned back against the wall of the gas station I’d found myself at, rubbing the heels of my hands into my eyes.
My dumb ass had decided to wander from the bus station, and I’d walked over a mile away. Unless I was staying in Santa Fe for a bit, I’d need to start making my way back.
“You okay?”
In my distress, I hadn’t even heard the rumbling of the motorcycle or noticed the handsome man making his way to me. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine,” I said even as I wiped my nose with a pathetic sniffle.
He eyed me for a long moment, his eyes roaming over my figure. “You hungry? I know a great little place nearby. My treat.”
And well, I was never one to turn down free food.
Even if that ‘little place’ ended up being a food truck.
“You know, when you said it was a little place, I didn’t picture it having wheels,” I said teasingly, licking salsa off of my lower lip. “Though, it is the best food I’ve ever gotten from a food truck before.”
“Oh, come on. This is the best food of all time!” He laughed, shaking his head.
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” I snorted, finishing off my flautas.
Pietro looked at me long and hard. “So, are you gonna tell me what the hell was going on to have a pretty girl like you all teary eyed?” He asked, his head tilting to the side.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “Was this your plan all along?” I asked. Wiping my hands off on a napkin, I did everything I could to avoid his eyes. “Get me all fed and then question me?” But at the same time, the thought of being able to finally talk to someone about it was so appealing… After a long moment of hesitation, I finally gave in. “I fell in love with a man, and he let me go because he knew that I want a life he can’t give me,” I said. “And I was a bitch who didn’t even tell him I love him back when he said it to me.”
Pietro took in a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “Damn. You really are a stone cold bitch, aren’t you?”
“Hey!” I indignantly threw a chunk of tomato at him, glaring. “I just opened up my heart, you dickwad.”
“Dickwad?!” He said, blinking at me in shock. “No one’s ever called me a dickwad before.”
I raised a single eyebrow at him. “Maybe not to your face, but they definitely have.” He gave off the vibe of a fuckboy, of a really, really bad fuckboy.
“Well, since you’re running away from your feelings, how about you spend a week or two with me on the road?” He asked with a grin.
I couldn’t help but blink at him in shock. “What?” I let out a laugh, pulling one of my legs up to my chest. “Do you throw that line out to every girl you meet? Or am I just special?”
Pietro threw a chip at me, and I barely managed to dodge it. “No, I don’t. But… You remind me of me. Needing adventure. A life bigger than four walls and a fence.”
Instinctively, I wanted to snap back that sometimes, four walls and a fence could be an adventure, could be the biggest life there was, as Bucky’s face flashed across my mind.
But I couldn’t do that. Not when I wasn’t ready to face the truth myself.
“Come on, sweet cheeks,” he teased as his foot hooked around mine. “Just think of it. The open highway, a rhythm beneath your feet… Nights full of passion and days of adventure…” Pietro’s voice was deep and husky, as though he was trying to lure me in. “No strings… just warm summer rain soaking us to the bone before we find some cheap motel to huddle down in…”
Plastering on a smile, I stood up and brushed myself on. “Thanks, but… I’d rather be drinking champagne, and the quicker I get to LA, the sooner I will be.”
He let me go with a kiss on the cheek and his cell number pressed into my hand, with a promise to come and pick me up the second I rang.
And despite how sweet he was, how wild and funny and charismatic, there was only one man I wanted to call.
Twenty-Four
I sipped at my martini as I sat at the rooftop bar, absentmindedly watching the television that was mounted on the wall as people droned around me. I’d been in Los Angeles for a year, and I’d spent my time finding the best places to find a husband who could give me the life I dreamed of.
As much as I didn’t want to admit it, it took connections to build a career, and the best way to get a foot in the door when nepotism was so rampant was by marrying someone in the industry.
My silk dress was the most expensive thing I owned, something I’d saved up for months for, had skipped meals for. And fuck, was it worth it. I could feel the stares, the lingering gazes on the little bit of thigh that was exposed by the slit in the dress.
I’d already turned away several men, able to tell just from their expensive watches and cheap suits and shoes.
It was amazing how all the up and coming finance bros thought they fit in with the truly big dogs.
“Well, hello, gorgeous.”
I turned to see who was speaking, my heart skipping a beat when I realized who I was speaking to.
The world famous (or infamous) director, Tony Stark.
“Hello, handsome,” I said smoothly, my lashes fluttering innocently as I took a sip of my horrible drink.
I fucking hated martinis. Always had.
But ordering a martini was more sophisticated than ordering a frozen strawberry margarita.
“Is this seat taken?” He asked as he motioned to the empty bar stool right next to me, even as he was already sitting down. “Let me buy your next round.”
“I can’t think of anything better,” I said, feeling as though my dream life was already in reach.
Twenty-Eight
“Tony, where are you taking me?” I laughed as I let my boyfriend lead me to the private dock at our Malibu mansion.
Well, his mansion. I just happened to also live there.
It had been a whirlwind of a year since I had met Tony, and he’d bought me that second round. He’d taken me all over the globe, anywhere my heart desired.
But I made sure to avoid New York City, though he never understood why. I would never tell him.
Not when I was so close to my dream. I could practically taste it.
“Come on, come on. I have a surprise for you,” he said, keeping his hands over my eyes. He was sure to keep me from tripping and busting my ass, thank god.
The ocean waves were so comforting as they hit the shore, a sound I’d gotten used to over the past year.
He finally brought me to a stop, quietly telling me to keep my eyes closed. “Okay,” he said finally. “Open them.”
My eyes slowly opened, adjusting to the bright light of the California sun. But I was more shocked by the sight of Tony on one knee in front of me, holding out a box with a sparkling diamond ring in it. “Tony?”
The ring was the size of a fucking meteor. It was easily the biggest ring I’d ever seen.
“You know, I never thought I’d meet someone like you,” he said quietly, his dark eyes shining. But his voice was steady. “Someone who understands me, who doesn’t expect me to change into someone I’m not. You accept me as I am, and that’s why I want to give you the world.” He couldn’t help but grin as he nodded to the right. “Starting with that yacht you’ve always dreamed of.”
I hadn’t even noticed that there were two yachts at his private docks instead of just the one. The new one had SS Princess emblazoned on the side, and I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh… Tony…”
“So, what do you say?” He asked, bringing my attention back to him. “Will you be my wife?”
“Yes.”
Thirty-Two
Swallowing nervously, I looked down at the business card in my hand for the millionth time, the stock paper soft from how often I’d looked at it in the past ten years.
Hell, just how often I’d looked at it in the past six should’ve made it fall apart by now. Not that I didn’t have it memorized.
I’d finally ended my marriage after being miserable for so long. I’d gotten my yacht, my fancy houses, my career, all the jewelry that I could dream of, and none of it made me happy. Tony and I… never grew. And I never dreamed. Every day was the same, and every day was torture as I realized that I didn’t have the one thing that actually mattered.
The garage in front of me was busy, music blasting and the sound of men shouting to each other as they worked.
Suddenly I felt absolutely ridiculous wearing a Chanel dress and Gucci heels, an Hermés bag on my arm.
BARNES TIRES AND MOTORS was lit up along the top of the shop in bright red letters, though the lights in the ‘r’ of ‘motors’ were out.
I felt like a fool. I had wanted the life I had so desperately that I gave up everything for it. I got the movie star life, my name on billboards and my face on magazines.
But it wasn’t ever enough.
My heels clicked against the blacktop as I slowly made my way towards the front area of the shop, bells clinging above my head to let them know someone was there.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” A man asked as he came around the corner.
He looked so much like Bucky, it punched the air straight from my lungs.
“H-Hi. I’m looking for James Barnes. Is he here?” I asked after a long moment of hesitation. There was no way that the man was Bucky, but I didn’t doubt he was related.
The man raised his brows, wiping his hands on a rag. “My son’s in the shop. I’ll take you to him.” His full head of hair was white, his thick facial hair matching. Even with all the wrinkles on his face, he was a handsome man. Holding open the door for me, he led me into the loud shop, some eighties rock song blasting over the speakers.
I couldn’t help but smile as ‘Rock You Like a Hurricane’ by Scorpions came on. It was one of Bucky’s favorites back when we worked in the diner together.
“BUCK! YOU GOT A VISITOR!” The man shouted, causing several people to look our way.
My cheeks felt hot as I avoided their gaze, hoping they wouldn’t recognize me. I didn’t want to be a famous movie star anymore, a celebrity that had to beg for scraps of privacy.
My mind went numb, my heart stopping inside my chest as he stepped around a gray Ford Escape another man was working on.
He was even more handsome than he was the last time I saw him.
“Can I help y—” He broke off, his blue eyes going wide when he realized that it was me. “Hi.”
All of a sudden, everything I’d planned to say flew out of my head. All of the eloquent words I’d strung together were gone. And I just proceeded to word vomit.
“Did you know that, uh, when you marry someone you’re not in love with, you won’t… you won’t grow into it?” I asked, my voice shaking. “Um… I married a man who could give me a life I thought I always wanted, and he just… sucked.” Eyes stinging, I fought back against tears. “And I thought that all I ever wanted was the life I have now, was the life movie stars and the Kardashians lived. But… But I hate it. I hated every second I was away from you.” I let out a weak laugh, unable to stop the tears. “I wanted to turn around the second I got on the bus in New Orleans, but my stupid stubborn ass didn’t. I should have. I should’ve gotten off and just run right back to you because I… I love you, James. I always have.”
The garage had gone almost deadly quiet, and my heart sank when I realized Bucky looked almost frozen in shock.
“I know that I shouldn’t have showed up like this,” I scrambled to say. “But I… I’ve been trying to get my divorce finalized for two years and I finally did, and I kept telling myself that once it was done, I’d never hold myself back from what I really want ever again. From who I want. If… If you want me.” My face felt like it was on fire, my hands shaking. I shook my head as I took a step backwards. “What am I thinking? There’s no way you’re not married. I… I’m so so—”
Before I could finish the word ‘sorry,’ Bucky had closed the distance between us, his hands cradling my face so gently. He held me like I was made of fine crystal as he kissed me. He kissed me like his life depended on it, like I was the one source of oxygen.
And I kissed him back just as fiercely. “I love you. I love you so much,” I breathed out in between kisses, unwilling to let him go as my Hermés bag fell into the dust and oil on the concrete below.
Bucky smiled into the kiss, his arm wrapping around my waist to keep me pressed to his chest. “I love you so much, darlin.’ God, I’ve missed you…” His nose nudged against mine as we finally broke for air, both of us breathing heavily.
My knees felt like Jell-O as I held onto him. His grip was the only reason I hadn’t fallen to the ground already.
“I’m sorry I was a dumb twenty-two year old,” I said, snorting as he stole another kiss.
“No… Don’t be sorry,” he insisted, his fingers massaging my scalp as our foreheads pressed together. It was like he was scared to stop touching me, like I would disappear at any second. “You were young… You had to go out and make your own mistakes… I’ve just been waiting for the day you were ready.”
All the years apart melted away and all that remained was the two of us, two souls so intertwined that there was no way to truly separate us.
Our lips were half molded together as I said, “I’m never leaving you again. I promise I swear on everything…”
My heart almost stopped inside my chest as I heard someone clearing their throat, looking to see Bucky’s father staring at us with his arms crossed over his chest. “M-Mr. Barnes, sir…”
He gave a crooked smile that was so reminiscent of Bucky that I couldn’t help but grin back. “The Mrs. will wanna know if you’re staying for dinner.”
“Yeah,” I said as I looked up at Bucky, toying with a strand of his hair. “That sounds perfect.”
Later that night, Bucky and I laid in his bed, a mess of bare limbs as his fingers ran up and down my back soothingly. “What do you want from this life, baby girl?” He asked absentmindedly.
Humming, I traced shapes on his bare chest, sometimes pressing a kiss to where his prosthetic met his shoulder, on the tender scar tissue. “You.”
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth, despite the already mischievous look on his face. “Really? Not even the stars and the moon?” He asked teasingly.
I knew he’d give it to me anyway, give me all that he could. But I was sure now that the only thing I wanted from this life was his love. “Not even the stars and the moon.”
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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.
☾
#btsguild#jeon jungkook x reader#bts angst#bts fluff#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook fanfic#jeon jungkook#bts fanfiction#bts soulmate au#bts enemies to lovers#bts reader insert#thoabh#bts imagine#bts scenarios#jungkook imagine#bts one shot#jungkook one shot#jungkook soulmate au#jungkook reader insert#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook fanfiction
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Sirius black pls
Am so sorry for all the requests
A/n: no worrys i love requests <333 sorry if there’s any misspellings also i went a little over board but i had fun
Warning: alludes to sex , friends with benefits , a bit of angst , smoking , and a few metions of fmab reader and she/her pronouns
Your song 505 by arctic monkeys
I looked at the stone ceiling smoking my cigarette as i layed naked on my best friends bed . I turn to my side and see the boy that i knew so well my best friend, sirius black. At this point i dont know if were still best friends or if were more but thats a conversation for another time. For now he was naked and asleep . I got off the bed putting on the clothes i was wearing the night before. Crushing my cigarette in the ashtray on his side table. I stared blankly at the wall putting in my clothes. since i woke up i cant stop thinking about how things used to be.
Before i was keeping secrets from my best friends , before he kissed me , before i started fucking sirius black , before it all.
Sometimes i wish i could go back to before the day he kissed me and go back to just playfully flirting with him , playing board games , and planning pranks . We still do those things but they feel different now . But Other times i wish we could go back to last night cause he was amazing , the way he treats me the way he acts with me , the way we are together . Its just amazing . The way he looks at me the way he says my name made me blush , but ive always hated the feeling of having to put on my clothes sneak out of the room and pretend nothing happened around our friends . Maybe I’ll end it with him
*a few days later *
I woke up again.......naked in my bestfriends bed . I couldn’t end it. I was planning on it but when i was gonna tell him something he flashed that smirk and suddenly i forgot all words, no thoughts except him no words but his name. We had been playing a prank when he whispered “505” which is his dorm number the number that meant “meet me at my dorm” . I really was planning on saying i wanted to go back to how it was , but at the i wanted him more.
I stared blankly at the wall as i put out my cigarette and put on clothes, clearly very used to this cycle already .it was already burned into my brain . What u didn’t account for was the open bottom drawer of Sirius’s dresser. My leg slippeed as i was putting on my pants hitting the open drawer causing a loud thump . Sirius began to stir .
“Fuck” I whispered . I rushed on my shirt and grabbed my things . Shoes in had i started to walk to the door
“ where you going” sirius said in raspy freshly morning voice
Fuck.....the morning voice one of my weekness . Very few things could break me , but without fail sirius’s voice and smirk always could .
“Going to class , didn’t mean to wake you”
Sirius looked at the clock on his side table “ at 5am “
“Its on...morning blooming flowers”
“ oh “ Sirius said as he sat up
“ yah so imma go “ i said pointing at the door
“Stay for a smoke” Sirius said holding a red back of cigarettes and smirking . The classic Sirius smirk
“ ok “ i said walking over to the bed and sitting on the side of the bed
We sat and smoked for a few minutes in comfortable silence i had learned to love. I layed my head on his shoulder and he had pecked my forehead before i knew it the cigarettes were half way done
Sirius broke the silence “ we need to stop doing this, we need to end what ever this is “
“ oh” was all i could say, Sirius was rhe one to break it off . the one who initiated it so often before o was i shock or relieved......no i was in shock.
“ im gonna go shower” he said blanky as he gor up
“ i should go” i finally spit out. I rushed out the dorm passing james and renus who were extremely confused on why i was there in the first place . I ran to my room and layed on my bed trying not to let the tears spill. I heard on a knock on my door
“ fuck its the boys” i thought to my self
I asked who it was and sure enough
“ its remus and james....love are you alright” remus said in a worrying ton
“ mhm im fine” i said in the calmest vouce i could make under these circumstances
“ i don’t believe you and coming in” james said
I love my friends but they never did understand social cues i got under the covers hoping i could fool them into thinking i just wasnt feeling well.
James sat on the edge if my bed as remus stood behind him
“Whats going on why were you running, are you alright” james said clearly worried
“Like i said earlier im fine just a little head ache.”
“ your eyes are red....we’re you crying” remus said
“ no, just a head ache imma take a bap see you guys later” i turned to my side hoping they believed it
It fooled james but didn’t pass remus
Remus rushed out of my dorm and ran to Sirius’s
“ what did you do” remus said in a stern voice
“ what do you mean” sirius said as he dried his hair
“ what did you to y/n shes in her room trying to me and James about her being sad when shes clearly crying and she ran out if your dorm so what the fuck did you do”
“ fuck” sirius said lowly almost whisphering
“ explain” said remus
Sirius explained everything how it started what just happened and everything in between
“ why would you break it off if you loved it so much” remus said
“ i ended it cause she deserves more than that. She tried ending it before i could tell in the way she looked at me but i would always tey to distract her hoping she wouldn’t leave me but i know she wants more, more then me . She deserves more “
“ you need to go talk to her explain that you live and you never wanna lose her and that you were such a dumb bloak that you had to push her away cause you were scared, dont be a idiot Sirius i see the way you look at her and i see the way she says your name you guys love each other and meeting in this room every few days just to fuck clearly isn’t the inly thibg you guys want, so make that clear to her instead if pushing her away” remus said
Sirus nodded and rushed out of room 505 before he knew it he was frantically knocking at my door
“ busy” i yelled hoping my voice didn’t sound of tears
“ please let me in i messed up”
“Sirius ?” I walked up to the door and opened it
The door opened and i saw y/n standing there her eyes red and cheeks stained with tears, fuck im a idiot. I didn’t have words to express my slef i hated seeing her cry . Even worse if it was cause if me .
Before i knew it sirius pulled me into a hug whispering “ im so sorry please dont cry love im a idiot and i only ended things cause i was scared and i dont want lose you”
“ Sirius i cant keep doing what we were doing” i said
“ i don’t expect you to darling i want to go on dates with you i want to have dinner and go in picnics what im trying to say is y/n would you go on a date with me “
“I’d like that sirius”
#sirius black x reader smut#james & peter & remus & sirius#sirius black x reader#sirius black headcanon#sirius being sirius#mauraders#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#harry potter#hp headcanon#remus fluff#remus lupin headcanon#send requests#seriously send a request#james potter headcannons#james potter x reader#regelus x reader#regulus black moodboard#regulus x reader#i also write for fezco and elliot#i also write for spencer reid and other criminal minds characters#andrew garfield x reader#harry potter blurb
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Hate Is A Strong Word
◠◡◠◡。・:*:・゚★,◠◡◠◡
Title: Hate Is A Strong Word
Warning(s): cursing, maybe a bit of angst? (Not a lot), fluff, arguing, fighting, ect..
Pronouns: They/Them
Synopsis: you and Karl hate each other (or at least you both thought) until it was leaked to the smp that he had feelings for you.
Pairing: c!Karl X gn! Reader
Word count: 1.7k
Note: this is my first sfw fic 😍😍
- if this gets enough attention then I might do a part 2 with some nsfw.
* This is unedited and I didn’t rlly proof read it so if this story actually makes no sense at all than I’m rlly sorry 😭
◠◡◠◡。・:*:・゚★,◠◡◠◡
Your eyes narrowed and you furrowed your eyebrows as you noticed Karl in the distance, he looked as if he was moving towards you so you were wondering what business he was up to.
“Karl! What’re you doing?” You called out to him but he snubbed you and ignored your question “Fine, ignore me then asshole!” You scoffed and returned to what you were doing, you try to act nice and he doesn’t play along!
You went back to crafting, putting the sticks together and cursing yourself once you realized you didn’t have all the correct materials. You sighed and held onto your nose bridge in annoyance “I can’t believe I forgot to get the red stone!” You grumbled.
This meant more work for you today and you were already tired of it, you sat down and tried to think of a way to get out of doing more hard labor for the day. You got an idea and stood up, there’s got to be someone on the server with red stone right?
You exited your humble house and approached the first person you saw outside which happened to be Purpled “hey! I’m sure that you’ve probably got some on you so I was wondering if I could borrow some red stone? Or just take it from you..” you asked politely “oh I Uh- I actually ran out, I used the last of it on this build right here!” He stood back and presented the stupidest thing you’ve ever seen.
You nodded “oh alright then- thanks anyways” you passed him and walked down the trail, perhaps Eret had stolen some off of someone and could let you borrow a few? You walked up to him and smiled “greetings! Do you have any spare red stone that I could please use?” You bowed down slightly.
“Oh no, I’m afraid that I don’t have any! I know who does have a whole supply of red stone though!” Eret’s voice sounded condescending and almost patronizing “oh really? That’s great! Who is it?” You smiled excitedly “It’s Karl!” Eret replied.
Your face fell and you frowned, your happiness was wiped from your face and you gave Eret a deadpan look “why does it have to be him?” You groaned “oh I’m sure someone else will have some, you’ll just have to check around..” Eret then scattered away.
You knew that Eret is normally right, she won’t let anyone prove them wrong, so you knew that Karl was probably your best bet at retrieving some red stone. You wiped your face and made your way over to Karl’s whereabouts.
You knocked on the door of his house and waited for him to open the door, you watched as Karl peeked through the curtain and then quickly ran away to pretend that no one was home. You banged on his door angrily “Karl, open up! I just need some red stone!” You yelled out.
“No ones home!” He screamed back at you, you sighed and lowered your head “what a fucking idiot..” you thought out loud, Karl gasped and opened the door “that’s quite rude, don’t you think??” He crossed his arms and huffed. “Oh great- you’re home, can I have that red stone now??” You gave a fake smile “what makes you think I’m gonna give it up so willingly?” Karl rose an eyebrow. What a pretentious fuck.
“Because if you hand it over now then I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the day!” You had hoped that your plan would work “who says that I want to be left alone? Maybe I want to pester you all day!” Karl teased “oh come on! I just need the red stone, give it up!” You held your hands up in defense “oh nuh-uh! That belongs to me!” He blocked the doorway.
You pushed him gently and tried to steal his red stone but he tackled you to the floor, you kicked him off you and then stood back up to dust yourself off “listen here- if you do something for me than I’ll happily give it to you” Karl offered.
“Fine, asshat, what is it?” You had already expected him to send you doing something horrible or incredibly dangerous “I need you to just give this to Quackity, he said he needed it” Karl handed you a bag full of just dirt “he needs a bag of dirt? This seems like the most useless task ever!” You exclaimed.
“It’s not useless if you’re getting something out of it, come back here when you’re done” he shut the door on you and left you to go on your quest. You knew it’d be an easy task, so why did Karl send you to do it? Did he not think you could do it? Did he underestimate you?
You walked back to your house and equipped yourself with some leather boots, they should help your feet with the long walk. You got back up and got back onto the trail, you flung the bag over your shoulder and coughed as some of the dirt came out.
You arrived in Las Nevada’s pretty fast to be honest! Your eyes glanced over the beautiful sight, Las Nevadas is a wonderful place! If you weren’t a traveler than you’d like to settle somewhere like this.
“Quackity!” You came up to the building and called out for him, yelping and jumping back when a little green man appeared behind you “AH!” You screamed and dropped the bag “Oh! You have my dirt! Thank you, Mx. Jacobs!” He ducked down “what?! What did you call me??” You bent down.
He popped back out of the dirt “Mx. Jacobs, Karl Jacob’s partner!” He smiled cheerfully “I’m not dating Karl! And my name is Y/n!” You spat out “oh really, you’re not?? But I heard Karl talking about how much he loves you! I must’ve misunderstood, goodbye Y/n (not the partner of Karl Jacobs)!” He sunk back down but you pulled him back up.
“Hey- no! I wanna talk!” You desperately spoke “oh sure! I have time to kill anyways!” He stuck his tongue out “who are you?” You asked curiously “I’m Charlie slimecicle! You’re Y/n the traveler, Karl’s partner!” Charlie stated incorrectly.
“Hey- no. I hate Karl” you crossed your arms “really?? I was getting the impression that you liked him from the way that you stare at him lovingly from afar” Charlie shrugged “WHAT- HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT? I DONT DO THAT!!” You quickly tried to defend yourself.
“Don’t defend yourself, I already said that Karl likes you too!” Charlie was a chill guy “then why does he purposefully irritate me so much?!” You complained “I dunno! I’m gonna go with my bag of dirt now..” Charlie disappeared and this time you weren’t able to catch him.
You continued to sit there for a while, just thinking to yourself about things ‘does Karl really like me?’ You thought. You shook the feeling off “hold on- I don’t even like him! Charlie was talking non-sense!” The words coming out of your mouth did not match the way you were feeling.
Your heart was in your mouth, your chest was sore and your lungs were gasping for air as your hair was beating faster and faster “oh god- shit.. maybe I do like him! I mean.. those times that we don’t fight are really nice” you were conflicted. You decided that it’d be better to just confront your problems so you stood up and went back home.
You knocked on the door of Karl Macon’s house, he answered immediately and snickered “great, you made it back, thought you might die out there” he teased you. You rolled your eyes “cut the shit, Slime boy told me all about you” you accused “oh yeah? Told you what?” Karl backed up a bit “he told me that you had a little crush?” You leaned against the doorframe.
“Maybe I do, what about it?” Karl looked away and lowered his head a bit “well maybe I like you too. I don’t know, I still find you annoying and irritating!” You confessed “I wouldn’t like it any other way. Would you consider dating me?” Karl reached out and grabbed your hand gently “oh fuck-“ you cursed.
“If you’d of asked me any other day than my answer would be so clear! If you’d asked me yesterday than I’d say no but- maybe I like talking to you and arguing with you a little too much to just be your enemy.” You dropped your head and started to blush.
This was a very embarrassing situation for you and you didn’t know what to do “so you’re not sure if you like me or not?” Karl asked “correct. I mean- I’d stare at you from far away and blush but that doesn’t necessary mean that I like you, right?” You hesitated.
“Are you afraid that you might like me?” Karl walked closer towards you “maybe a bit. We’ve been enemies for so long, I’m afraid of what will happen between us if we stop” you answered “I’m sure we’ll still find things to fight about when we’re together” Karl smiled “well- than yes! I’ll go on one date with you” Karl squealed with joy.
“Yes! You’re making me the happiest man alive!” He hugged you “yeah, yeah, am I gonna get that red stone anytime soon?” You pestered him “sure thing! Can I pick you up later tonight?” Karl asked you “8’o clock and no time later than that” you replied before walking off with his red stone.
“Hey wait!- can I kiss you? Just this once?” Karl had started to annoy you with the way he was trying to explain why it’d be better to kiss him now instead of on your first date so you decided to shut him up. You grabbed him by the collar and pressed your lips against his.
This relationship of yours was gonna be a real hassle but you knew you’d make it out alive (not sure about Karl tho)
#mcyt x y/n#mcytumblr#mcyt#mcyt x reader#dsmp x reader#dsmp#dream smp x reader#dream smp#karl jacobs#karl jacobs x reader#c!karl
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