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oddinary4bts · 1 year ago

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Emotions of the Soul | knj

☆summary: when Namjoon reappears in your life after thirteen years of absence, you find yourself unsure of what he means to you, and of what you mean to him. Anxiety reigns over you, but will it be enough to drag you away from Kim Namjoon?

☆pairing: Kim Namjoon x artist female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: childhood/teenage lovers to strangers to lovers, idol!au, smut, angst, fluff

☆warnings: alcohol, anxiety, a reference to the reader in Now We Reign if you guys can catch it, cursing, stupid teenage threats of m*rder, an appearance from the reader in Forever, pet names, paparazzi, imposter syndrome, an ugly teenage breakup flashback, explicit content: mentions of blindfolding, switch!Namjoon, big dick!Namjoon, switch!reader, oral sex (male and female receiving), jerking off, dirty talking?, balls fondling, face riding, breast play, fingering, protected sex, praise, hair pulling (ish), ass slapping, tummy bulge (? lmao), choking, cumshot, cum eating, unprotected sex, he calls OC a slut once or twice I think

☆word count: 36.3k

☆a/n: Oof I don't know why but writing this was so so hard?? I'm happy I finally managed to finish it tho! It delves into the subject of anxiety and its effects on people, so it's a little heavy, but I hope you'll still enjoy it <3 As always, thank you to @moonleeai for her incredible work as my beta reader! You’re the best <3

☆Read the other installments in the Life Goes On series here!

☆☆☆☆☆

The music in the gallery was loud. It probably fitted a club better than an art exhibit, the upbeat melody having more than one person dancing and nodding their head to it. The atmosphere was warm, stuffy, even though the front doors had been left open in the hopes of getting the fresh November air in. It failed majestically, and you were sweating in your too-tight dress by the refreshment table in a corner, watching over the crowd.

You had never seen so many people in your gallery before. Had never thought your art would attract that amount of people, but it seemed the art enthusiasts of Seoul had flocked to your gallery tonight, looking to experience the art of a new talent firsthand.

At least that was what the journalists were saying, even though you had been an artist since you were a middle schooler. Fingers always stained with ink, teachers scolding you for never paying attention…

Middle school had seen your love for art blossom the way azaleas blossom after a long winter. With bright petals, vivid with life, though your art had first been the colour of the darkest nights. It had taken you years before you had incorporated colours into it, and now you were proud to see the myriad of shades painted on your pieces.

You sighed, and you reckoned maybe the mask you were wearing was the reason why you felt so stuffy. But you weren’t going to risk being recognized – no, you liked enjoying your exhibits in the anonymity of an art enthusiast. Rare were those who knew who the artist actually was, and you felt like it was the best way to have actual feedback on your art.

No one coated their words with sugar when they spoke with just another art enthusiast. So tonight, you wore the mask of the artist, the one people knew you for. It preserved your identity but also allowed people to know who the artist was when they had to. Like tonight, considering that it was the opening of your newest exhibit, The Colours of Fall.

You ordered a glass of apple-flavoured soju mixed with beer, bowing your head in thanks at the employee behind the table when they offered it to you. When you turned back around, your eyes trailed to the wall of windows on one side of the room. Though some pieces were hung there, with spotlights behind the windows to create shadows into the pieces, you still were able to see the black Sedan that was parking outside.

Paparazzi outside started flashing their cameras as someone walked out, and all you could see from where you were was a mop of black hair. More than one celebrity was in attendance tonight, so you didn’t pay attention to the person arriving more than necessary, instead focusing on the exhibit once more.

It was going well. Far better than you had first imagined it would. You had already sold numerous pieces, and your brain was running a mile a minute with ideas of what you could replace them with.

Your mask only hid the top part of your face, so you easily took a sip of your drink, inadvertently bobbing your head to the music. It was good music, it really was, but you couldn’t wait for the actual playlist you had chosen to begin.

Which wasn’t going to be for a whole other hour, unfortunately. After you said your speech and the lights turned to red, orange, and the rich yellow of autumn leaves.

Your manager moved closer to you, and she offered you a wide smile. You nodded your head and watched as she ordered the same drink as you, before standing next to you.

“The celebrity scene is going crazy over your exhibit,” Na Sooah said. “Most of those invited showed up.”

“I still can’t believe you invited the whole celebrity scene,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “Most of them know nothing about art.”

Sooah laughed. “Not all of them! Kim Namjoon just arrived.”

Your throat went dry, and the hand clutching your glass tightened at the mention of Namjoon’s name. Kim Namjoon. Your childhood friend Kim Namjoon. Your first kiss, your first time… and a member of the most famous boy group in the world. More than that, Namjoon was a fellow art enthusiast.

Namjoon’s love for art started at the same time as yours. He had been enthralled by your drawings, believing that you had a gift that needed to be nurtured and protected. Like his love for music, though his comparisons most often made no sense. To you, that is.

Namjoon had been your first heartbreak, back when every emotion felt deeper than the ocean, when anger, pain, and sadness ran longer than eternity. Back when he hadn’t even joined Big Hit yet.

“Kim Namjoon,” you repeated, tasting his name in your mouth for the first time since that ugly October night when you had told him you hated him more than anything in this world, and he had left without even a single look back.

You had never spoken after that. You had never talked about him anymore either, not to your friends or family. And when you had begged your parents to change school, they had caved in, letting you attend the same school as your cousin Miyoung.

Miyoung had been your closest friend since then, until Sooah had come into your life to form a trio with you and your cousin when you had attended college in arts.

“Yeah, he’s created quite a commotion outside,” Sooah commented, and you remembered the mop of black hair.

Could that have been Namjoon?

“And when he RSVP’ed, he mentioned that he would like to have a talk with the artist, so I hope you’re ready,” Sooah added, teasingly.

You glared at her through your mask. “You couldn’t have told me before?”

“No.”

You rolled your eyes once more, not so playfully this time, taking another sip of your drink. “He’s Kim Namjoon, you could have let a girl prepare.”

At that, Sooah laughed out loud. “Got a little crush?”

“Quite the opposite,” you said through gritted teeth.

You hated Kim Namjoon.

You noticed him then. He was dressed simply, yet it was elegant, somehow. Or maybe it was the way he carried himself, with his large and tall frame, that made him elegant. Because you doubted a pair of jeans with a gray cardigan over a light blue polo was supposed to be this elegant. His long coat matched the colour of his cardigan almost to perfection, and he flashed dimples to the employee at the coat check as he took off the coat, revealing more of his large frame.

Needless to say, Kim Namjoon didn’t look like he could rip a log in two with his bare hands back when you had first known him. No, he had been a thin, gangly teen, with arms that seemed too long for his frame.

When he was rid of his coat, he moved to the side to let the man behind him give his coat away, and then the two of them started walking together.

You had no idea who the other man was, but from the looks of it, he was a friend, as Namjoon laughed along with him.

One of your hands moved to your face, gently grazing your mask to make sure it was still well-fitted. It was like one of those masks people wore at the Venice carnival. It matched the theme of your exhibit, with autumn leaves craftily molded into it. It was a piece of art in and of itself, like all the masks you wore as an artist.

He wouldn’t recognize you. You were positive he wasn’t going to be able to recognize you with just the lower part of your face on display, especially after so many years apart. Your voice had changed to – matured, aged, like your features, quite honestly.

After all, the last time Kim Namjoon had seen you, you had been a crying, yelling, angsty fifteen-year-old.

Sooah left you to a couple that was looking to buy one of the backlit art pieces, and you explained to them the process behind the creation of the art they had chosen, eyes once in a while flitting around to make sure Kim Namjoon wasn’t in your vicinity yet.

He wasn’t. He was perusing around the gallery, stopping to talk to other celebrities once in a while, and so far, you weren’t even sure he had looked your way. Which was a good thing, because that meant maybe you’d make it to your speech before he actually tried talking to you.

You could leave immediately after your speech, right?

“And what about the subject of autumn interested you so much?” the older man in front of you asked.

You blinked out of your reverie, offering him a practiced, easy smile. “If you had to choose, would you want to witness the beginning or the end?” you asked.

It was the catchphrase of your speech. Though people could argue that the year ended and began in the winter months, you had always seen a finality in the months of fall and had portrayed it in your art.

The man seemed taken aback by your question. He cocked his head to the side, before glancing at his wife. “The end carries weight,” the wife said pensively. “It carries age and wisdom.”

You offered her a polite nod. “Exactly. I find beauty in the end and chose to portray it with the months of autumn. When life seems to come to its end.”

“Fall is beautiful,” the man agreed. “But wouldn’t you argue the start holds more beauty? With all the possibilities that it carries.”

“A different kind of beauty. Which, maybe it’s going to inspire my next exhibit,” you teased, secretively, and the couple laughed.

You talked to them a little more, and it seemed life had salvation to offer you because Sooah was the one that came to you first, and not Kim Namjoon. You said goodbye to the couple, before following your manager to the spot where you were to say your speech. As usual, nerves wracked your whole body at the sight of the standing mic, and you had to resist not to bring your thumb to your mouth to nibble on the nail. It was a habit you had gotten rid of only recently, and you really didn’t want it to come back.

Especially not in front of a crowd such as this one, in which you knew Kim Namjoon was standing.

Sooah stopped in the crowd, pushing you forward gently, inciting you to walk the rest of the way yourself. Your heart beat out of your chest as if it was about to escape your ribcage, and you took a deep steadying breath before moving out of the crowd.

The music stopped, and the lights immediately dimmed, until all that was left was a single spotlight, which shone on you as you stopped next to the mic. Back turned to the crowd, eyes skimming over the biggest piece of your exhibit. Ilsan lay before you, draped in the colours of autumn.

You breathed in and out one last time, and then you turned, stepping in front of the mic.

“If you could choose,” you started, voice steadier than you expected it’d be. “Would you choose the end or the beginning?”

The couple you had been speaking to smiled wildly at your sentence, and you let the silence linger long enough for people to whisper their own answer. Music started with low traditional instruments replacing the upbeat melody from earlier.

“There is a form of beauty in the end. In knowing you’ve seen it all, and that rest is at your door,” you continued. “There’s beauty in looking back, in wisdom, and in the Colours of Autumn.” You paused, looking over the crowd. You noticed Namjoon standing at the back, listening politely. “My exhibition carries this: the end of the year, of the cycle of nature. The beauty of fall, of leaves and October nights and November rains.” You wondered if people could tell that your hand was slightly trembling, where it held the mic. “When the wind catches and leaves blow, it is time to look back. So tonight, I want you all to take a step back, to look back on your lives and ask yourselves, ‘Have I found the wisdom of The Colours of Autumn?’”

The spotlight turned off, and you walked away from the mic to the crowd. When you turned back to look at the piece of Ilsan, a projector came to life and the story you had prepared started.

You tuned it out: you had seen the shadow and light projections so many times already they had lost all sense to you. It often happened – if you stared at your art for too long, it lost all its meaning. So you usually didn’t look back on a piece right away. You waited for the end, for the concretization that came with your exhibits, and only then did you look back.

Except the lights and shadows. You had watched those fifteen times yesterday only to make sure that everything was perfect. And you were quite the perfectionist, you knew that they were.

While everyone was watching, you slowly made your way to the back of the crowd. You surprisingly still had your drink in your hands, and you took a careful sip as you finally slipped out of the big of the crowd. The drink was flat now, and you tried to head towards the refreshment table in order to rid yourself of it.

It seemed your calculations had been wrong, because Kim Namjoon stood in front of you, in all his tall glory.

All his infuriating glory, as dimples graced his cheeks at the sight of you. They stopped you in your tracks, and you gazed up at him, eyes connecting even through the dim lighting. His friend was standing next to him, and your eyes flitted to him once before looking at Namjoon again.

Namjoon nodded his head, politely, before taking a sip of the beer he was holding. You nodded back, and then you resumed moving, thoughts spiraling like leaves in the fall wind. You made it all the way to the small door that led to the stairs to your studio before you were stopped by a large hand on your elbow.

You knew who it was without having to turn around, and you would have cursed him for not watching the show had applauds not sounded, indicating that it was over anyway.

“Hi,” Namjoon politely said when you were finally facing his way. His hand had long returned to the pocket of his jeans, and he looked infinitely nonchalant, standing there in front of you. “Sorry for the intrusion, but your manager told me to be quick to speak to you at the end if I didn’t want to miss you.”

Sooah could go to hell.

You offered a polite chuckle, though to you, it sounded like you were choking on air. Because frankly, you felt like you were. “I do usually slip away in the night,” you answered. You glanced at the door, hating that your salvation had been so close yet so far. “You caught me right before I was to leave.”

When you faced Namjoon again, you noticed the confused look on his features. His brows were furrowed over his eyes, his lips were slightly parted, and he had tilted his head to the side in confusion. His eyes, slightly narrowed, made him look like some sort of dragon, and God were you well placed to know Namjoon could breathe fire if he wanted.

At least when he was a teen, he could.

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you,” Namjoon admitted. “Your manager said to come here if I wanted a chance to talk to you.”

You cocked an eyebrow, though the mask hid it from view. What the hell could Namjoon want to speak to you about?

“I’ve noticed you portray Ilsan in your art a lot, and since I come from there, I wanted to know if I could buy a piece,” he added to your stunned silence.

“You didn’t have to talk to me to ask for that,” you said, and you glanced around at the employees on the floor that were in charge of the actual selling.

“I wanted to have the artist’s insight on which piece she’d believe would fit best for me,” he continued, and he seemed to realize then that this was weird. He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders a little. “Or maybe even have one made personally?”

Now, you remembered why you hated Kim Namjoon. “I do not take commissions,” you flatly replied. “If you wish to buy a piece, you can auction for one with one of my employees.”

“Sorry,” Namjoon quickly said. “I didn’t want to sound rude. Like at all. It’s just… there was this piece I really liked from your last exposition, Winds of the West? I couldn’t buy it in time.”

“I do not remake pieces.”

Silence followed your statement. Had he only then noticed how cold you were towards him?

“Right,” he eventually said. “How unfortunate. I think the person that bought it is here today. Might as well go talk to them.”

It was said like a joke, but you didn’t bite, remaining entirely stoic in front of him. Kim Namjoon didn’t seem to like it, as if he was used to people bending to his every wish, and he probably was.

“Might as well,” you agreed, hoping that it was going to make him leave.

It seemed it did the trick, because he looked over his shoulder, probably searching for the person in question. When his eyes settled back on you, he said, “Guess I’ll let you escape through the night.”

You pursed your lips, nodding once. And just because you wanted to preserve your artist image a little, even though you reckoned you had been rude to him, you said, “Good luck with getting the piece.”

At that, he lit up, and the dimples appeared.

You hated that after all these years, they still had an effect on you.

“Thank you, Maehwa,” he gently said.

Hearing him say your artist’s name had you freezing on the spot. You hoped he didn’t see the panic in your eyes, and the colours draining from the half of your face visible to people. He did furrow his eyebrows once more though, looking pensive, but you didn’t give him a chance to say anything else. Indeed, you quickly wished him good night, before turning around and stepping through the door.

Once you were in the cool darkness, back pressed against the door you’d just locked, you took another deep steadying breath, like the one you had taken before your speech.

Maehwa had been Namjoon’s nickname for you, all those years ago. Because back then, you had mostly been drawing flowers and had been attracted to the maehwas, the blooms of a plum. But maehwas were common and loved, and there was no way he could have connected the dots. He didn’t seem like he had, or else you were pretty sure he would have approached you in an entirely different fashion. Indeed, back then, he had told you he’d kill you if he ever saw you again, which, in your fifteen-year-old heart, had been quite the threat.

Once you were calmed, you walked down the stairs, breathing in a sigh of relief at the sight of your studio. Right now, it was pretty much empty, save for the painting you had started for Miyoung’s wedding next summer.

She wasn’t even engaged yet, but her boyfriend Doyoon had let you in on the secret since you were going to help with the proposal in a few weeks. You glanced at the painting, almost wishing to work on it a little just to get your mind off things. But it was late, and you’d rather be at home, with your cat Gabi.

Was it your fault if memories of Kim Namjoon swam in your head until late that night? You highly doubted so. And looking back, you couldn’t see any beauty in your ending. You, who preached that all endings held beauty. Had you just been too immature then? You thought perhaps you had been, but it didn’t really matter anymore though, did it? It couldn’t.

Why, then, were you unable to shake Kim Namjoon out of your thoughts, until troubled sleep found you in its embrace?

*****

December was grand. With showers of fluffy snow that left a blanket on the world, and Miyoung’s engagement party. You painted, stained your fingers with blue and purple to match the colours of the winter landscape, and by the time January came, you had all but forgotten how Kim Namjoon had just reappeared one evening in late November.

Your studio was cool at this time of the year, and the windows at the top of the walls had iced with frost. You were wearing a thick sweater, with a pair of leggings you had long stained with paint, back when you were working on the fall Ilsan piece.

Indie music was playing in the background, a new artist that had been taking over Seoul and South Korea with her music. It was sad, but Miyoung had insisted that you listen to it, saying that the artist had been rookie of the year at MAMA last year. You had been supposed to accompany Miyoung to the singer’s stadium show too, but you had ended up being sick, and Sooah had gone in your stead.

The music was lonely, nostalgic, but the lyrics were powerful and inspiring. So you kept on painting, as the light of the rising sun slowly melted the frost on the window, though the corners clung to it like one clings to a lover just returned from war.

You hadn’t slept last night. Had stayed up working on your current piece, and exhaustion was slowly catching up to you, even though the inspiration hadn’t worn off yet. So you kept working, head tilting to the side whenever you finished a small part, waiting to know what the next step in the journey was.

You had a fist on your hip when Sooah and Miyoung both appeared at the top of the stairs leading to the basement, voices cheery and loud in the relative calmness of your studio.

“Please tell me you haven’t been up all night,” Miyoung scolded you, and your gaze slid to where she was walking down the stairs, hands holding up two coffees.

She handed one to you when she reached the basement floor. You took it gladly with the hand that was previously on your hip, shrugging your shoulders. “I was almost done.”

Both Sooah and Miyoung looked at the piece.

“Clearly,” Sooah sarcastically said.

Your eyes also slid back to your piece. You took a step back, and clearly, you were far from done. You had been working on the middle portion all night, but you still had only a vague drawing for the rest of the canvas. You sighed, putting down your brush.

“I meant I’m almost done with what I wanted to finish,” you specified.

Sooah nodded her head, before plopping down on the couch in one corner. Miyoung glanced once at her, before resuming her attention on you.

“Why did it take two months for me to know Kim Namjoon came to your exhibit?” she asked, with the most innocent voice.

Your mouth fell open. “What? It was all over the news.”

“You know I don’t watch the news!” Miyoung exclaimed. “Sooah mentioned it while we were getting coffee.”

“I-“

“And why did you never tell me you dated that guy when you were younger?” Sooah interjected, not letting you finish your sentence.

“Mimi!” you burst, and you jumped towards Miyoung, fully in the hopes of tackling her to the ground.

“The art!” Miyoung screamed as she escaped you. “Be careful with your art!”

You stopped in your tracks, electing to glare at her instead. “Why did you tell her? I was fifteen!”

“Still counts,” Miyoung replied, the innocent act still on.

But you wouldn’t be fooled. “It clearly doesn’t.” You turned your head towards Sooah, who watched with a giddy smile from where she sat. “Right? Who cares about a teenage ex?”

She laughed. “Clearly, you, if you get so worked up about it, what, thirteen years later?”

You frowned, shaking your head. Instead of replying, you took a long sip of your coffee, hoping it would give you something to reply to that.

“I don’t care,” you said when the sip was swallowed, and you couldn’t really wait anymore.

Sooah nodded, getting up from her spot on the couch to head in front of the painting you had been working on. You watched her go, an eyebrow cocked inquisitively.

“Well then,” she said once she was standing there, with her back turned to you. She smacked her lips once, the only way you knew she was up to no good. “You won’t care if I tell you he asked to film something in the gallery, and I said yes.”

You loved your friends. You really did. But sometimes you hated them too. Like right now, as your brain immediately started planning their murder.

“What the fuck?”

Sooah finally turned towards you, acting as if she didn’t just announce the worst news of your life to you. “Yeah. The pay is going to be worth it, and it’s going to give a lot of worldwide visibility to your art. It really is worth it.”

“But Kim Namjoon?” you complained. “Couldn’t you have chosen… I don’t know, some cool indie artist?”

“He’s a cool artist,” Sooah stated, shrugging her shoulders.

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. “Is he really?”

“His music is good,” Miyoung cut in innocently.

Your head snapped towards her. “You listen to his music?”

“Yeah, the album he released in December is good.”

And that was how you found yourself sleep-deprived, listening to a music album made by your teenage ex, as your manager explained to you the deeds of the project Namjoon was going to film in the gallery. Even though Sooah was one of your closest friends, you couldn’t really say no when she asked you to do job things. You trusted her entirely on her choices, had always did, but today you regretted it just a little bit.

Luckily enough for her, your exhaustion won over your will to fire her – or worse, to murder her – and you headed home when you finished listening to the album, repeating time and time again to you didn’t think Namjoon’s music was good.

It had led to Miyoung innocently mentioning that your breakup had been ugly, and really you had to get out of there before you committed the irreparable. It was only a few hours later, after a well-deserved nap, that you realized something.

Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery didn’t mean you had to be present, right?

*****

Kim Namjoon shooting a video in your gallery actually meant that you were going to have to be present.

You had been too tired, that day with Sooah. Had entirely not assimilated that the project he was filming was a series of short episodes where he met up with various local artists, presenting their craft to the world. He had chosen you for the painting episode, even though you were quite convinced there were way better artists out there that he could have chosen from. You didn’t really have a say in this – what Sooah wanted, Sooah got.

Still, you were given a reprieve – the date chosen for shooting was still in a week, and so you took to arranging your gallery the way you believed would work best. And though you were pretty sure it was ready, some late Thursday afternoon you found yourself moving around some paintings, deciding to change the location of the Ilsan piece that had been the vehicle of the shadow and light projection you had shown at your exhibit in November.

You watched as two employees moved the piece where you had asked them to, fists on your hips, when bells rang, indicating that someone had walked in. You didn’t dare look behind you, instead giving directions to the employees as one of them carefully climbed the two first steps of a stepladder to hang the painting where it needed to be.

You surveyed them until the painting was safely hung, almost forgetting that someone had walked in. You only remembered when you felt a heavy gaze on your profile, and a silhouette appeared. You glanced their way then, and almost let out a startled scream that would have clearly made the windows explode.

Kim Namjoon offered you a tight-lipped smile.

“Are you Maehwa?” he asked.

You put a hand over your chest, trying to keep your heart from going into arrest. “You can’t just sneak on people like this,” you grumbled.

Then, the weirdest thing happened. He started smiling, wide, flashing his insufferable dimples, and his eyes lit up from within.

“It really is you.”

You gulped. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You wanted to scold yourself for saying that, as if you wouldn’t know who Kim Namjoon was, even if he wasn’t your ex from so many years ago.

“Y/n, don’t play this game with me,” Namjoon said, teasingly. “I was pretty sure it was you in November, and now I have the proof.”

You scoffed. “What do you want?”

This time, his smile only allowed one dimple to appear, and you hated it even more. “Your manager told me that I could come over today to prepare for shooting. She said you were setting up the gallery.”

You would really need to fire Na Sooah, wouldn’t you?

You looked around, though it was pretty much ready. The filming crew was supposed to come at the beginning of next week to set up the spotlights and everything else they might need, as filming was only supposed to be Wednesday next week.

“Yeah,” you replied flatly. “What do you need to prepare?”

He tilted his head to the side. “We haven’t seen each other in years, and that’s how you speak to me? I remembered you to be a lot warmer.”

The nerves on this man…

“It’s been over ten years, I’ve changed.” You clenched your jaw once, before taking a deep, steadying breath. There were employees around, after all. “What do you need to prepare?”

He just smiled, mysteriously, before glancing around once. “Do you have an office somewhere around here?”

You looked up to the ceiling, rolling your eyes so far back you thought they were going to stick to the back of your head. “I have my studio downstairs,” you grumbled. “Follow me.”

He nodded, dimples flashing, and followed you as you made your way to the door through which you had escaped from him in November. Only this time, there was no escaping.

Namjoon’s heavy footsteps followed you down the stairs, and you braced yourself for the inevitable comments he was going to make about your studio. To your surprise, he remained silent, and you realized that he, too, had changed through the years.

No one remained quite like their fifteen-year-old self, didn’t they?

You moved towards the sitting area, vaguely motioning to an armchair. “Have a seat.”

You glanced over your shoulder, only to see Namjoon was looking at your current work-in-progress. It made you feel insecure, somehow, and you cleared your throat.

Namjoon’s gaze trailed to you. “Sorry.”

He walked towards you, and you felt small as he stopped right in front of you, still with that same infuriating, warm smile on his lips. “Your art has improved a lot through the years.”

You fled his gaze, motioning to the armchair again. “Do you want coffee? Or a tea?”

“Just water would be fine,” he replied, his smile falling for the first time since he had appeared in the gallery upstairs.

You nodded curtly, and as you headed towards the kitchen area of your studio, Namjoon got comfortable in the armchair. You brought back two glasses of water, mostly because you knew you were going to need something to hold to keep your nerves at bay. Namjoon accepted his with a slight bow of his head, and then you sat on the couch.

You exchanged a look, as you waited expectantly for him to say something. He remained silent, a pensive look on his features. It threw you off, as he had been the type to talk a lot back then.

“You’ve changed,” he stated out of the blue, and it made you cock an eyebrow.

“Obviously,” you drawled. “I would expect someone to change after thirteen years.”

Those stupid dimples appeared for half a heartbeat. “Yet you haven’t changed at all.” At your obstinate silence, Namjoon specified, “You’re still just as petty as I remember you to be.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you here to insult me or to prepare for shooting your show?”

He chuckled, a deep sound that had you busying yourself with a sip of water. He mirrored you, before saying, “I don’t mean to insult you at all”.

Should you call him out for his bullshit? Back then you would have, but you had grown up. So you remained silent once more, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s just weird to see you again,” he said, and he motioned towards you with the hand holding the glass. “You look… good.”

Not at all what you were expecting. It made you gulp, and you hated that your cheeks were burning. “It is weird, right?”

He nodded once, eyes trailing away from you to look down at his glass. “I’m happy your dreams worked out.”

Now, the pang in your heart was unwelcome. Kim Namjoon shouldn’t have the power to make you feel like this, not after all the years.

“I worked hard,” you replied carefully. “As you have, I presume.”

At that, he chuckled, tilting his head to the side. “I sure have.”

Another awkward silence and you glanced at him as he took a sip of water.

“So, what did you want to prepare?” you asked once you couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

“Oh,” he let out. He sat back in the armchair, looking way too at ease with his thighs slightly spread. “I wanted to give you the list of questions that I’m going to ask so that way you can prepare in advance,” he told you, offering you another one of those disarming, dimple-flashing smiles.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You couldn’t have shared them by email?”

Another chuckle of his had you looking away, focusing on your project.

“I could have. But I wanted to see if my inkling was right at the same time,” he explained. “Before the day of shooting, that is.”

You sighed, before looking back at him. His eyes were already on you, and it made you gulp once more.

Namjoon had gotten really intimidating, after all these years.

“Well, now you know,” you said. “Was there anything else you needed?”

He seemed surprised at the dismissal in your tone. “Not… really.” He wet his lips, watching you carefully. “I just thought it’d be great to catch up.” His gaze moved to your surroundings, before settling back on you. “To get to know how you managed to get such a nice studio and all that. I haven’t heard about you since we broke up.”

“Because I wanted it to be this way,” you replied. “And why do you have to say it like you didn’t believe I’d make it?”

“Wait, no,” he quickly said. “That’s not what I meant.”

You couldn’t help the roll of your eyes. “Of course not.”

He laughed. “Really? After all these years, you’re still mad at me?”

“You did tell me you wanted to kill me,” you reminded him in a grumble.

He seemed surprised. He frowned, and his head once again tilted to the side. “Did I?”

“You don’t remember?”

At that, you were the one to be surprised. It had been such a pivotal piece of your existence, back then, that you expected it to be marked into his brain the same way that it was in yours.

He shrugged. “Not particularly. I got super busy with being a trainee, and I just… I guess I forgot.”

“Oh,” you let out. The silence that followed was heavy, awkward, and you hoped it was enough for Namjoon to get the cue and leave.

Maybe he was still just as dumb and clueless as he had been then, because he said, “I was intense, wasn’t I?”

You pursed your lips. “Yeah.”

You held his eyes for a few seconds until your gaze dropped to your glass. You hated how you couldn’t look at him anymore, but gosh, he looked a lot better than he did then, and you had already found him attractive all those years ago.

“I…” he trailed off, nibbling at his bottom lip. “I was wondering if I could have your phone number, to send you the list of questions.”

“Uh…” You scratched the back of your neck, shrugging your shoulders. “You can send it to my manager, she’ll have it sent to me.”

If he was disappointed, he didn’t let it show. “I guess I’ll see you next week, then?”

You nodded once, before clenching your jaw. Because why did some stupid part of you not want him to leave right away?

“Did you eat? I was about to order fried chicken.”

He looked almost startled by your invitation. “I… have eaten, actually,” he replied truthfully, never one to lie. “But if you want company while you eat, I can always stay.”

You shook your head. “Nah, all good. I was just asking to be polite.”

He didn’t call you out on your bullshit, instead offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Then I guess I’ll see you next week.”

You walked him back upstairs, teeth nibbling at the inside of your lip as you tried to ignore the weight of the awkwardness between you. He wished you a good day, flashing those dimples of his, and he left, without once looking back.

You watched him as he climbed in a company car, and your gaze dropped to the ground as the car drove away, quickly disappearing from view.

What the hell had just happened?

*****

Namjoon’s list of questions was good. Mostly, it was centered around what you used as an inspiration, which other artists did you look up to, and what kind of music you listened to while practicing your art, if you listened to any at all. There was also stuff about where you grew up, and how it might have affected your art.

Nothing too personal, yet the fact that the questions were from Namjoon felt incredibly personal, and your hands were clammy, heart beating out of your chest, by the time the day of shooting came. It didn’t help that there was some problem with the cameras, which was only solved a few hours after the shooting was first supposed to start.

This meant you spent the most awkward, long hours of your life in Namjoon’s company, barely even talking because, frankly, you had nothing to tell him. He seemed fine with the silence, or maybe he just sucked at small talk just as much as you, and he didn’t say anything, just sat there scrolling on his phone until the director came to get the two of you.

And when filming started, Namjoon started asking you his questions, and you tried not to be a blushing mess as you answered. Tried and succeeded, you liked to tell yourself, because you were used to being interviewed.

The fact that you were starting to be renowned in Seoul’s painting scene helped, clearly, because you made it through the introduction and first few questions without stuttering.

They were the easiest ones, after all.

“At what age did you start painting?” Namjoon asked as you sat on the little balcony outside of your gallery, looking over the Han River.

Your breath turned into a cloud as you exhaled, and you followed it with your eyes as it moved up towards the sky. “I started when I was seven. But at first, I only drew, and then started painting when I tried it for the first time in middle school and fell in love with the craft.”

Namjoon was there that day. Had ruined your painting when he had fallen next to it, feet getting tangled in the pots of paint. You had been furious, but you had also been two laughing messes by the time class had finished.

You had started dating half a year later, making the decision right outside of the art class, where it had all begun if you were honest.

“What do you like so much about painting?”

You met his gaze, not really knowing how to answer that question. You had been searching for what to reply for hours the day before, and all you had been able to come up with was, “It allows me to create, to evacuate emotions and to make something that is worth looking back at.”

You weren’t sure it was the answer he was looking for, but you still said it. He offered you a secretive smile, as if it made all the sense in the world to him.

You hoped the camera didn’t catch your eyes flicking to his lips, before getting stuck in the dimple on his cheek.

“I think that’s understandable,” he replied truthfully. “Creating music feels a little like that, at least for me.”

You pursed your lips, not really knowing what you could say to add to the conversation. Namjoon took it in stride, following with his next question.

And it went like that for the whole interview. At some point, you moved inside, with the aim of talking about certain art pieces of your choosing. Namjoon asked questions about your latest exposition, about what it was like compared to your first one, and frankly, you didn’t see the time go until the director cut the tape for the last time, telling Namjoon that it was closing time.

To your surprise, Namjoon had one last question for you.

“As we bring this interview to an end,” Namjoon said, eyes finding yours, “I have one last question for our artist.” He waited a few seconds, as if to give emphasis to his words, before adding, “Why did you choose the name Maehwa?”

You stared at him, he stared at you. You were pretty sure he could read the answer in your eyes, and you were pretty sure you didn’t want to say it out loud. It felt awkward, and this time you doubted the makeup they had put on your skin before filming could hide the blush on your cheeks.

“Uh,” you let out, coughing a little. “When I was younger, a friend of mine used to call me that. I liked the nickname, and I guess it stuck around?”

‘A friend of mine translated’ to him, to Namjoon, and you hoped he couldn’t tell just how much you were spiraling, like a leaf caught in the whirlpool of a leaking sink. Because you were caught in the current, feeling like you were stupid, to have held onto a stupid nickname that meant nothing, that never should have meant anything.

“It’s a pretty name,” Namjoon reflected.

His eyes were heavy on you because, of course, he knew that it was him. Of course, he remembered the days of youth where you had learned about love, by his side.

He had been there after all.

“Thank you,” you replied, a little breathlessly.

After that, Namjoon closed the interview, and when the cameras turned off, you let out a long, wavering sigh. It made him chuckle, as people buzzed around you to put everything away.

“Everything okay?”

You offered him a no-bullshit look. “You didn’t tell me about that last question.”

It sounded accusing, and frankly, you were accusing him. He recoiled, just a little, losing the small smile that was gracing his lips.

“I honestly thought it up during the interview,” he admitted. “I should have warned you.”

You clenched your jaw for a few seconds, before releasing yet another sigh. “It’s whatever. Why did you even want to know that?”

“Because I gave you that nickname…” he said, looking suddenly ashamed.

As if he was a child getting scolded for making a mistake. You didn’t like that look on him, even though he entirely deserved it, so you softened your expression before saying, “You did.”

He held your gaze, and the space between you filled with memories, with his laughter and the rain that early June night when you had kissed for the first time. It made you long for the warmth of his honey-toned skin, taking you by surprise.

Yes, you had once loved Kim Namjoon, but that had been thirteen years ago, when you were too young to actually know what love was.

“Do you…” you started, not knowing where you were headed.

Yet it was like he knew. “Do you want to get dinner with me sometime this week?” he asked, finishing your sentence.

You smiled, looking down as if that would hide the blush on your cheeks. “Only if you take me somewhere nice.”

“You deserve the best,” he said, nodding once. “I know just the place.”

You met his gaze again, and the smile grew like flowers under the sun. “Then yes, I’d like to grab dinner with you.”

At that, he offered you an award-winning smile, with the infuriating dimples creating indents in his cheeks. “For a moment, I was convinced you were going to refuse.”

The blush on your cheeks deepened as you asked, “Why?”

“You haven’t been…” he trailed off, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to the both of you, but most people were busy putting away the lights and mics from the set. “You haven’t been very warm,” he finished as his eyes settled back on you.

You nibbled at your lower lip, nodding curtly. “Right.” You held his gaze for a few seconds, and then you found you were too much of a coward, fleeing his dragon eyes to look at the tiles of the floor instead. “We didn’t part on exactly good terms, you know?”

“Yeah.” He took a step towards you, extending his hand in front of him as if expecting you to shake it. When he added, “I’m Kim Namjoon, it’s nice to meet you”, you understood that he was, in fact, waiting for you to shake it.

“What are you doing?” you asked, ignoring the hand.

He stubbornly kept it there. “Pretending that this is my first time meeting you,” he explained, even though it made little to no sense. When he saw the confused look on your face, he clarified, “So that way, we can pretend that the past never happened, and we can start again on better grounds.”

It made you giggle, a shy little sound that had you finally cave in, your small hand closing around his large one. “I already agreed to grab dinner with you, but…” you trailed off, finally meeting his gaze again. “Nice to meet you, Kim Namjoon. I’m Y/n.”

He held your hand for a second longer than necessary, before letting it go. Your fingers twitched as if wishing he had held on longer, and you hid it by hiding your arm behind your back.

“You come here often?” he asked, adding your name at the end. “I’ve never seen you around.”

You cocked an eyebrow, and you both burst out laughing at the same time.

“You’re bad at this,” you teased him. “We’re in my studio, of course, I come here often.”

He nodded. “Ah, I apologize. It’s my first time around, after all.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him in the shoulder. It just made him laugh again, and there was something so familiar, so warm in his laugh that you turned wistful. He immediately noticed the shift in you, and his smile slowly died down to be replaced by a serious look.

“I’m serious,” he told you. “It’d be great to start on new grounds.”

“I know. I fully agree,” you said. “It’s just… who would have thought I’d accept to grab dinner with the first boy that broke my heart.”

He didn’t reply. Just turned a little apologetic, though you reckoned you had broken his heart too. You both had been young and dumb, there was no way to deny it. And it was strange indeed, that thirteen years later, you had met again. Both of you having changed, having grown until you weren’t sure you really recognized him.

Except for the dimples. The dimples were the same, a never-changing feature that you didn't doubt had stolen the heart of a million of his fans. It had stolen your heart back then after all.

“So,” he said after his manager told him that they were ready to leave, breaking the bubble of the little dimension you both had fallen in. “This time, I assume you’ll allow me to write down your number?”

You snorted, holding out your hand between the two of you, a little like he had done earlier though you were waiting for him to give you his phone. “Sure, I’ll put it in your phone.”

He pouted, looking like the child you had known all those years ago. “I lost my phone.”

“What?”

He repeated sheepishly. “I think I left it in the company car that dropped me off here.”

That was such a Namjoon thing to do you found your heart growing warm once again. “Okay then, I’ll write my number on a paper, and you text me when you find your phone. That works?”

The bright smile returned, and he nodded his head. “That works for me.”

You held his gaze for a few more seconds, before moving away to go get paper in your studio downstairs. When you came back up, he was still waiting, though this time his manager was next to him, looking somehow a little pressed. You felt bad, assuming that he was upset because you were making him wait, so you jogged to Namjoon.

“There you go,” you said, handing him over the paper. Your eyes glided to the manager, before returning to Namjoon. “Text me when you can.”

“I will,” he said.

It sounded like a promise, just as much as it sounded like a beginning.

*****

“You are shitting me,” Miyoung said, eyes wide like flying saucers.

Cheeks burning, you avoided her insistent gaze. “No…”

“You’re grabbing dinner with Kim Namjoon?” she repeated, and the words sounded so foreign in her mouth that you winced a little.

“Huh,” you let out. “Yeah, seems like I am.”

She shook her head in disbelief, before chuckling lightly. “I can’t believe him. You’re supposed to hate him. You didn’t even want to listen to his music, and now you’re going out with him?” She paused to laugh again. “Sooah won’t believe this.”

“Come on,” you whined. “It’s nothing.”

“Shut up,” Miyoung said as she grabbed her phone. “I’m texting Sooah right now to let her know.”

You tried to steal your friend’s phone from her hands, but she darted away, out of your reach, long enough for the message to be sent. You were pretty sure your cheeks had gone purple now, and all you could do was fold your arms on your chest as you glared at Miyoung.

“It’s just dinner,” you pointed out. “Nothing to freak out about.”

Miyoung narrowed her gaze, eyeing you suspiciously. “Why are you even grabbing dinner with him? What are you hoping to achieve?” Her gaze widened before you could even speak. “Are you only going because he’s RM of BTS?”

You rolled your eyes, looking at the ceiling of your studio. Miyoung had come over when you had texted her about the dinner earlier, claiming that she needed to see for herself if you were just playing with her.

“No?” you said. “I don’t care that he’s RM. I accepted the offer because… I don’t know, at the end of the day, he’s a childhood friend.”

“A childhood friend? He was your first everything.”

Touché. Today, you felt weird whenever you remembered that he had taken your virginity, when you both were so young you shouldn’t even have been thinking about that. You had regretted it for years after – mostly because you had started hating him so bad, but also just because you had been so young. It felt wrong somehow.

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “I only told you because I don’t know how to date. I never really go on dates.”

She laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Oh my God, it is a date, right?”

You felt yourself flush red, furiously, and your gaze fell to the floor. “I mean, I think so? Don’t you?”

“I thought it was just dinner with a childhood friend,” she mused, hands going behind her back as she rocked on her feet. She was teasing you, and you glared at her. “Alright, alright,” she let out after a few seconds of holding your gaze with a shit-eating smirk on her lips. “First, we’ll need to figure out what you need to wear.”

You nodded, nibbling at your lips. “He mentioned dinner at a restaurant.”

He had. Namjoon had texted you the night after the shoot, claiming that he had indeed forgotten his phone in the car. He had also sent you the link to a famous restaurant in Gangnam, one that you were pretty sure was way over your budget even though you were relatively well-off financially. He had told you he knew the owner, and that the restaurant had private rooms where you could eat without fearing for fans or paparazzi seeing you.

“So then you want to dress nicely,” Miyoung said, nodding once. “A nice pair of dress pants with a cute blouse would do. Or maybe that long black skirt you have that ends right over the knee? You could pair it with…”

“Y/n!” Sooah yelled from the top of the stairs, startling both you and Miyoung. “How dare you not tell me you’re getting dinner with a celebrity?”

Your gaze widened in fear as you watched your manager walking down the stairs, purpose filling her every move.

You were pretty sure the purpose was to murder you.

She pointed a finger at you in affront, her cheeks a little red from the anger. “This is manager business. You can’t just decide…”

“Cut it,” Miyoung interrupted. “You literally bet with me last week that it would happen.”

Sooah dropped the act, face cutting into a bright smile. “I sure did, and I won.” She held out a hand towards Miyoung, who begrudgingly took ten thousand won out of her wallet to put it in Miyoung’s hand. “Thank you,” your manager said. “Now, what’s the plan?”

“They’re getting dinner at a restaurant,” Miyoung declared before you could speak. “What’s the name again?”

You didn’t remember, so you grabbed your phone to look at your text conversation with Namjoon. “Huh…” you trailed off, scrolling up to when he had sent the menu. “Seasons of Seoul.”

Sooah’s mouth fell open. “The Seasons of Seoul? That’s one fancy-ass restaurant.”

You startled at the sound of the curse in Sooah’s voice, before bursting out laughing in time with your friends. “It is,” you said, voice lilting into a whine. “It’s definitely above my budget.”

“Namjoon seems like a gentleman,” Miyoung pointed out “I’m pretty sure he’ll pay.”

“For sure,” Sooah agreed. “When’s the date?”

You blushed, shrugging your shoulders. “We haven’t decided on a day yet.”

“Just tell me when and I’ll clear your schedule,” Sooah said. “I don’t care about any interviews when you can be going on a date with Kim Namjoon.”

You rolled your eyes, though a playful smiled teased the corners of your mouth. “You’ll be the first to know.”

“Yah, I believe I should be the first to know since I was helping you plan what to wear!” Miyoung interjected, which led to your two friends bickering, and then to them helping you out with what to wear. It was a little hard since you weren’t at home and couldn’t rummage through your walk-in closet. Since it was already running late, Sooah suggested heading over to yours, and that was how you found yourself sitting cross-legged on the floor of your living room, back against the couch, as you ate fried chicken and drank soju with your friends.

You were definitely a little buzzed by the time you finished eating, washing your hands at the kitchen sink before you aimed for your closet, where you started pulling out outfit after outfit.

You said no to all of your friends’ suggestions, mostly because it didn’t feel right. Sooah, growing annoyed, suggested to go shopping on the morrow, which made Miyoung jump in excitement, which in turn scared your cat Gabi away.

“Yes, please, please, please!” Miyoung exclaimed. “We haven’t gone in forever. It’ll be like when we were in college procrastinating studying.”

You laughed, brain swimming with alcohol. “As long as you don’t bring me to those fancy stores,” you said. “I hate when people talk to me while I’m shopping for clothes.”

Both your friends threw you no-bullshit looks.

“Come on,” Sooah let out. “Maybe we can even get you another nice outfit for the launch of your next exhibit.”

“I’ve barely even started working on it, it’s not going to be for another full year, at least,” you pointed out. “No need to shop for an outfit now.”

“Pleaseeee,” Miyoung begged. “It’s going to be fun. We can even go to that Samoyed café you like so much.”

The perspective of seeing the Samoyed puppies suddenly made a shopping trip all the more interesting. “Mmh,” you hummed. “I’ll consider it.”

“Bitch!” Miyoung burst, punching you in the shoulder hard enough to hurt. “We’re going tomorrow, just accept your destiny.”

You rolled your eyes as you massaged the spot she had hit, before finally nodding. “Alright, we’ll go. As long as you don’t make me spend my entire paycheck on clothes.”

“Your entire paycheck is like five times what I make so, shut it,” Miyoung pointed out.

“You did sell a piece for over 50 million won last week,” Sooah reminded you.

They had allied against you, hadn’t they?

“Right,” you let out.

“So you have nothing to say for your defense,” Miyoung said sternly, fists resting on her hips in mock authority. “We’re going tomorrow, and you’re coming with us. And,” she added, nodding forcefully, “And you will enjoy yourself.”

You laughed at how dumb she looked. “I’ll try. But I can’t guarantee anything.”

To your surprise, you actually enjoyed yourself the next day. Miyoung and Sooah were great company, had always been, and it really had been a long time since you had spent time together like this. The whole day was spent laughing and gossiping and just enjoying yourselves, and you did end up buying a lot more outfits than you probably needed. Which would be a problem when it came to what to choose for the date, but you didn’t really care.

It was late in the afternoon when your phone buzzed on the table of the Samoyed café, and you picked it up as Miyoung cooed at the fluffy dog she was playing with.

It was Namjoon, asking you if you would be willing to go out with him this Friday.

“Oh my God,” you let out, and you felt your cheeks burning as your outburst had attracted the attention of other clients of the café. “He texted me,” you whispered then for only your friends to hear.

Sooah yelped, clapping her hands. She looked so far from the fierce manager you knew her to be you burst out laughing, slightly shaking your head.

“What did he say?” she asked.

You didn’t answer for a time, letting suspense hang in the air between you and your friends. When Miyoung got up, clearly aiming to grab your phone out of your hands and read the text herself, you finally spoke. “Looks like you’re going to have to clear my schedule this Friday night.”

Sooah shrieked as Miyoung grinned wildly.

“Consider it done!”

*****

You were anxious. Had been anxious all week, and it had shown up in the painting you were working on. It had turned into a hectic mess of colours, inching closer to a dark cloud than to anything else. It represented your mental state well, even though you tried to keep reminding yourself that it was just Namjoon. If there was such a thing as just Namjoon.

Gosh.

You sighed, looking at yourself in your standing mirror. You were wearing one of the designer outfits you had bought earlier this week, and the skirt hugged your frame well, enhancing your curves. You had curves, you were aware of it, but you weren’t sure they were supposed to look this good. Paired with the white blouse and black blazer, you looked like you were going on a date with a CEO, and not Kim Namjoon.

Though, nowadays it felt almost as if one was a synonym for the other.

You liked the fit, you really did, you were just afraid Namjoon would think you were overdoing yourself. But somehow, you felt really comfortable, ready to conquer the world if need be. Maybe just not Kim Namjoon.

But it was too late to back out of the date. Indeed, the doorbell rang, indicating that he was here, and you met your gaze in the mirror one last time before going to open the door.

Namjoon looked … incredible. With a pair of dark dress pants along with a pale cardigan over a yellow polo. Over that, he was wearing a long coat that looked way too expensive, yet still fit the look. It was more of an artist look than yours, and yet it suited him perfectly.

He was an artist, too, after all.

Most of all, he was holding a bouquet of pale flowers – rose and white and lilac – and he handed it to you as he took in the sight of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he complimented, and he flashed you a corner smile that had just one of his dimples appear.

Your cheeks burned as you nodded once. “You as well,” you said, grabbing the flowers. You hesitantly inhaled them, satisfied with the sweet floral scent that took over your nostrils. You glanced over your shoulder, before opening the door wider for him to come in. “You can come in, I’ll just go put these in water.”

He nodded, stepping in as you retreated into your home, searching for an appropriate vase for the bouquet. Once it was safely tucked in a vase with room temperature water, you moved back to where Namjoon was still waiting, right next to the door. You smiled, a little awkwardly, before putting on the high heels you had chosen for the date.

Namjoon patiently waited for you, and once you straightened, you put on your winter coat, grabbing your purse where you had left it on the table near the door.

“Ready?” Namjoon asked when your gaze finally met his.

You nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Yes. Let’s go.”

He smiled his dimple smile, and he opened the door for you. You walked outside, waiting until he had shut it behind him so you could lock it. The cold air hit you right in the face, and you hid your face in the flaps of your coat. To your luck, Namjoon had picked you up in a company car, considering he didn’t drive, and you climbed in first, quickly followed by him.

You sighed at the warmth in the car, and watched as Namjoon leaned forward to tell the driver the address, before sitting back comfortably next to you.

Conversation was somehow awkward at first, mostly because you struggled holding Namjoon’s gaze. In all truth, you reckoned the awkwardness stuck around until you got to the restaurant, and even still as you were led to the private room Namjoon had rented for you both.

He helped you out of your coat, ever so the gentleman, hanging it before taking off his own and putting it beside yours. You just stood for a time, not knowing what to do as you took in the elegance of the restaurant and the dim, private atmosphere that reigned.

You felt like you had stepped right into a palace and, frankly, you weren’t sure you belonged in such a place.

“Sit!” Namjoon quickly said as he noticed you were still standing. And then he rushed to pull the chair for you, making you chuckle embarrassingly.

“You don’t…” you trailed off as you caught a whiff of his cologne.

A dark, masculine smell that made your head a little dizzy. You couldn’t tell why you hadn’t smelled it before – maybe it was because of the coat. All that you knew was that the oaky smell wrapped around you comfortably, refusing to let you go.

“What?” he asked as he sat in front of you, offering you an encouraging smile.

You took a deep breath, chest moving up and down as you tried to regain your composure. When you felt like you could speak without embarrassing yourself further, you said, “Since when are you such a gentleman?”

That made him laugh, full of dimples again, and he slightly shook his head. “Wasn’t I a gentleman when we were dating all those years ago?”

Not at all. He had been an awkward teenager, and you both knew it. As such, you cocked an eyebrow, a teasing smile growing on your lips.

“Were you?”

He winced, chuckling again. “Not at all. But I grew out of it.”

He sure had. He barely held any resemblance to the boy you had once known, except for those damned dimples that were making it hard for you to focus. And now the cologne? You were done for.

“Bangtan changed you, didn’t it?”

He nodded pensively. “I think that, having to be the leader of all these kids? Yeah, it really made me mature faster than I thought possible.”

You furrowed your brows in question. “I don’t know a lot about Bangtan but… isn’t Seokjin older than you?”

Before he could answer, a pretty waitress walked in, pulling a cart with different wine bottles on it. She greeted you two, stopping next to the table before asking you what you wanted to drink. You glanced at Namjoon, who offered you an encouraging smile, as if saying, ‘I’ll have whatever you have’.

“This Cabernet is actually my favourite. So we’ll take this one, please,” you asked, and the waitress offered you a bright smile as she picked up the bottle.

You watched as she put it on the table, eyes trailing to Namjoon longingly. A fan – she was clearly a fan. Namjoon offered her a professional, practiced smile, and she flushed red as she grabbed a wine opener to uncork the bottle. She carefully opened it, before pouring you two a glass.

It was awkward, somehow. And it was only then that you noticed there was jazz music playing in the background. It felt odd that you hadn’t noticed it before – had the beats of your heart been too loud for you to hear it?

When the waitress finally left, offering Namjoon one last look over her shoulder, you cocked an eyebrow, trying not to laugh.

“What?” he asked.

“Does this happen often?”

He chuckled, fingers playing with his glass as he evaded your gaze. “More than you can imagine.” He met your gaze then, and you watched his features as they softened. “But you don’t have to worry about us being here getting out in the media. The owner of the restaurant is an old friend, and she assured that all of her staff can be trusted.”

It hadn’t even crossed your mind, but you weren’t surprised that he had thought of it.

“That’s more of a relief for you than it is for me,” you pointed out.

He nodded, a warm smile on his lips. “You have a reputation too! You’re an artist, just like me.”

That made you snort as you shook your head, eyes falling to your untouched glass of wine. “I don’t think I am in the same category as you, Kim Namjoon. I’m just a painter.”

“You’re much more than just a painter, Maehwa.”

Your throat went dry at the way he said the words, as if they held so much meaning they were heavier than the world. And you wouldn’t be surprised if they did – Kim Namjoon had always been a poet, after all.

“I’m not a member of the most popular K-pop band in the world, though,” you reminded him, and dimples answered you as he humbly smiled.

“Evidently not.”

A comfortable silence moved between you – the first of the evening, you reckoned – and your eyes once more fell to your wine glass. You picked up, spinning the wine to bring out the aromas of it.

“Want to taste?” you asked him, motioning to his own glass.

He picked it up, nodding his head. “Please. I’m surprised to know you have a favourite wine.”

“Trust me, it’s worth it.”

He chuckled, and you clinked your glasses together before taking a sip. You let the rich taste roll on your tongue, appreciating every milliliter of it until you swallowed, and even the aftertaste was good.

A really good wine, indeed. Way too expensive, in your opinion, but you had always liked expensive things. As your designer clothes could tell, and as your date across the table could tell, too.

Not that you were a snobby artist – you were far from it. But you had learned how to appreciate the good things in life long ago when you had first discovered art.

“I like it,” Namjoon commented as he put down the glass. “Nice choice.”

You smiled, relieved that he indeed liked your choice.

As wine flowed between the two of you, you found conversation with Kim Namjoon was a lot easier than you had initially expected. He put you at ease, like he did when you were younger. Together, you reminisced about middle school and high school, about that time he had spilled hot chocolate on his uniform and you had helped him clean up, which had brought you guys closer.

Until he had kissed you as you were doodling maehwas on his arm, and the rest was history.

“No, but,” he insisted, his cheeks turning a pale shade of pink as he closed his eyes in embarrassment. His dimples winked at you, and you looked at him as he collected his thoughts. “To be fair, I never planned to break it. It wasn’t even my fault.”

You cocked an eyebrow. “You were the one holding it,” you reminded him.

You were referencing a fragile plate your mom had offered Namjoon, from her collection of nice plates she usually only displayed during fancy events. Namjoon had broken it a whole hour after he had been gifted it, and to this day, you still couldn’t understand how he had broken it.

“You tickled me!” he burst out, narrowing his eyes at you. “It was entirely your fault.”

You playfully rolled your eyes, before chuckling lightly. “I barely even touched you.”

He glared at you, though it didn’t last, melting into a soft smile that had you looking down at the table.

Right at the same time, a lean girl walked in, clad in a chef’s outfit, holding up the food you and Namjoon had ordered earlier. She offered you a polite smile, and it turned nostalgic as she looked towards Namjoon.

Namjoon said her name, before turning to look at you. “This is the friend I told you about.”

She was beautiful, in an easy, elegant kind of way. Her shoulder-length hair swayed nicely when she walked, and you had half a thought that she probably should be wearing something to make sure no hair could get in the food. Then you figured she probably had taken it off to come here, and you only realized that she had spoken to you when both she and Namjoon settled their gaze on you.

“Nice to meet you too,” you replied, because you were 75% convinced that that was what she had said.

You were relieved when she smiled knowingly, eyes trailing back to Namjoon. They talked a little more, and it took you a moment before you understood that she was one of Namjoon’s friends’ ex. They continued speaking after that, as you listened politely, nodding whenever she looked your way to encourage her to continue.

She looked sad. Nostalgic. Whoever her ex was, you had the intuition that she still loved him.

“Have a good evening,” she told the two of you about a minute later, bowing.

You bowed your head back, as Namjoon wished her good evening, and then you watched her walk out of the room, hair prettily moving around her head.

“She’s Seokjin’s ex,” Namjoon let out pensively once she was out of earshot.

Your eyes widened, and you looked back towards him. “Your bandmate?”

He nodded. “They broke up a few years ago, during the pandemic,” he explained. “They were engaged.”

You weren’t sure Namjoon was supposed to tell you any of that. It sounded personal, and he seemed to get the cue as you remained silent, eyes falling to the steaming plate in front of you.

“Anyway,” he said, chuckling awkwardly. “Shall we eat?”

“Yes,” you immediately replied, a little too quickly.

It had both of you laugh, and the awkwardness lifted to be replaced by that same familiarity the evening had held until Seokjin’s ex had come in. It had you fall back in your nostalgic memories, as you ate the delicious food on your plate.

When you were done eating, Namjoon suggested dessert, and not really wanting the evening to end yet, you accepted. It led to you both drinking a little more, your inhibitions slurring as alcohol rushed through your bloodstream, making you feel young and alive.

The feeling lingered with your lively chatter, with the exchanged laughs and long looks. Sometimes, Namjoon’s eyes burned on you, and you found you were too afraid to hold his gaze, too afraid to let it mean anything. Whenever it happened, you looked down at your glass, and the tenth time that it happened, you found the glass to be empty.

No salvation for you there. Especially considering that dessert was eaten and long gone, and all that had been left was the bottle of wine.

“So,” Namjoon said as he, too, took in the sight of the empty glasses and bottle. “I…” He chuckled, ears turning pink as his dimples flashed on his cheeks. “Thank you for tonight.”

You couldn’t help your own blush as you replied, “I’m glad I said yes.”

He met your gaze, eyes darting to your lips once. When they settled back on your own gaze, you swallowed a sudden lump in your throat.

“We should…” he started, falling silent as he scraped his throat. “We should do this again.”

The lump dissolved into nothingness as you smiled, softly. “I would love to.”

“What about on Sunday? There’s this exhibit I’ve been meaning to visit, thought you might want to join?”

“You want to bring an artist to another artist’s exhibit?”

He seemed surprised at your question, as if it hadn’t even crossed his mind. And truth be told, you liked visiting your fellow artists. There was just something about a shared passion that made you feel calm, understood. As if, no matter the sorrows your life could hold, there would always be someone out there who understood. Someone who could share the burden, who’d offer you a helping hand in the form of art whenever you needed it.

So you quickly added, before Namjoon could say anything, “I’m kidding, yes, I’d love to accompany you.”

He looked so relieved something warm blossomed in your chest, and your cheeks burned.

“Well then,” he said, smiling that dimpled smile. “I should get you home, it’s getting late.”

The perspective of the date ending made your heart squeeze in your chest, for a reason you couldn’t quite understand. “Right,” you agreed.

It was all you said before you both got up, moving to retrieve your coats by the door. After that, you walked towards the outside world, and when Namjoon’s hand accidentally grazed yours – or perhaps it was on purpose – you hooked a finger around his pinky.

Looking up to him, you caught him looking down at you already. From so close, he towered over you, though there was nothing threatening with his height. It felt comforting, safe, as if you were under his protection.

By the warmth in his eyes, you knew you truly were.

You waited in the lobby for the car to come pick you up, Namjoon with his back turned to the people. Though no one looked your way, no one acknowledged your presence, and for a second, you wondered if you really were with a worldwide famous singer or if Namjoon was just a normal person.

Someone like you, someone who could revel in anonymity wherever he went.

“The car is here,” Namjoon told you as you were looking behind him, observing the patrons slowly exiting, laughing about a joke only they knew.

You smiled up at him, before letting him grab your hand properly this time as he led you outside. His large palm engulfed your small one, warmed it up, and your fingers were tingling by the time you reached the car door that Namjoon opened for you.

He really wasn’t a gentleman when you were younger. There was something oddly relieving to see him act in such a way now, showing you that he had grown since you were sixteen and too dumb to actually know what love was.

You settled in the car, reveling in the warm vehicle as Namjoon sat in the seat right next to you. And when the car jostled forward, you became all too aware of the place where Namjoon’s thigh rested against yours, and of where his arm pressed against yours.

You turned your head to look at him, admiring the soft glow on his features induced by the neon lights outside. He met your gaze, offered you a smile, and you felt yourself leaning forward. As if there was a pull between you, something that was inevitable. You had never been good at resisting, so you let yourself be pulled, let yourself find him.

He met you halfway, lips infinitely and surprisingly soft even with the cold January night out there. He sighed against you, shifting slightly so he could angle his head better, deepening the kiss.

And kiss you he did, with memories and yearning and nostalgia that had you part your lips when his tongue swiped at your bottom lip, only to meet it with yours. You remembered days of early art, of words whispered in the dead of night when nothing seemed like it could bring you apart, when you believed it was you and him against the rest of the world.

Your breakup flashed in your thoughts as he rested a hand on your thigh, carefully, but you pushed it away, refusing to let the memory stain this moment with him.

As much as the kiss was unexpected, bubbling out of neon lights on Namjoon’s soft features, it was also expected. As if fifteen-year-old you had expected to find him again, somewhere, even though you had fled to an entire other high school.

As if the story had just been put on hold then, to resume once the time was right. And as much as you usually were wary in your relationships, tonight felt right. It felt right in all the ways that mattered, in his arm on your thigh and the soft smile he offered you when he pulled away, reminding you that you weren’t alone in the car.

You chuckled, blushing deeply, and your hand landed on top of his on your thigh.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

You leaned into his touch, sighing dreamily. “I don’t know if it’s the wine,” you said, low enough to make sure only his ears could perceive your words, “but I really want to kiss you more.”

That made him laugh, and his hand fell away from your cheek. “Not here,” he said, head motioning to the driver. “You’ll have to wait until Sunday.”

You pursed your lips, thought about it for half a second before you said, “Do you want to sleep over tonight?”

His grip on your thigh slightly tightened, the only indication that your words had had an effect on him. “You’d like that?”

You parted your lips, tongue darting to wet them. “Yes.”

It was no wonder Namjoon ended up pinning you against your closed door as soon as you walked in, locking you between his strong arms as his lips ravished a hungry kiss on your mouth. You grabbed at the lapels of his coat, trying to pull him closer, right as he slipped one of his large hands to arch your back, pressing your front against him.

The second he left your lips to press open-mouthed kisses on your jaw, you fought against his coat to rid him of the clothing. He sucked on your jaw as he helped you, and soon enough, the coat was abandoned on the floor, right as he pulled you in.

You kicked off your shoes, lips meeting again in a kiss that had your head spin, right as you wrapped your arms around his neck. He groaned when you bit on his bottom lip, and then picked you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He put you down on the decorative table near the door, and in an attempt to rid him of his shirt, you pushed a vase.

The sound that it made when it shattered on the floor startled both of you, and Namjoon looked down, eyes wide.

“Oh no,” he let out.

You caught his startled gaze, breathing raggedly. “Don’t worry, it was just a cheap vase.”

He looked down at the mess, nodding once. “I’ll buy you another one.”

And then he was finding your mouth again, sucking on your lower lip as he started to fight against your coat, trying to get you out of it. He shortly had to pull away, brows knitting together in concentration because, as much as he tried, the zipper of your coat wasn’t budging.

“Hold on,” you said, putting your hands above his.

Much gentler than him, you managed to unzip the coat, and he helped you slip out of it, throwing it towards his. His eyes dropped to your thighs, where your skirt had ridden up to reveal more skin, though you were wearing pantyhose. He ran his hand along your thighs, head hanging low. You watched him do so, watched his jet-black hair falling in his eyes until you couldn’t resist anymore, reaching between you to push it back.

The strands fell right back in front of his eyes, but it attracted his gaze. He looked at you through his hair, dragon eyes burning a hole through you, and you grabbed his cheeks to pull him into yet another heated kiss.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, and he subconsciously grinded against you, though the skirt and the fabric of his own pants kept you from feeling anything.

“You think we can make it to my room,” you whispered as he moved to your neck, kissing a hot kiss just below your ear.

“You’ll have to show me the way.”

You chuckled, gently pushing on his chest until he finally disconnected from your neck and took a step back. It allowed you to plop down from the table on which he had sat you, and you grabbed his hand, right as he dipped his head to kiss you again.

You kissed him back, moaning softly when his large hand cupped your ass, grabbing at the meat hard but not enough to hurt. It had even more heat pool at your core, liquid lava that was slowly making you unravel, and you needed more.

You pulled away from the kiss begrudgingly, mostly because you wanted to stay here, to be consumed with the passion Namjoon’s lips were carving against you.

You had to make it to your room before you went insane. So you pulled him behind you, not once looking back, or else you wouldn’t get there at all. Luckily enough, you held on strong, but the moment you crossed the threshold to your room, Namjoon pulled you against him, large hand resting on the base of your neck to keep you from moving away.

It took all of three seconds before your brain zeroed in on the spot where his hard dick was pressing against your back.

“Can you feel how much I want you?” he asked, voice low and husky, sending shivers all over your body.

You nodded, tilting your head to the side to give him access when he lowered his head. Too tall, he didn’t quite reach your neck, but his breath skimming over your skin made goosebumps erupt on you.

“I want you too,” you replied breathily.

You could hear a dangerous smirk in his voice when he said, “Take that skirt off”.

Something settled deep inside of you, making you into a puppet he could control. Stepping away from him, your hands went behind your back to unzip the skirt, and you let it fall to the floor. It pooled around your ankle, but when he stepped closer again, one hand squeezing the flesh of your ass, you found yourself unable to do anything.

“You should take off the pantyhose, too, before I rip them”, he added.

You didn’t doubt that Namjoon often miscalculated his strength. Even when he was just a gangly teenager, he already struggled with clumsiness. So you pulled the pantyhose down your legs, and you stepped out of the pile of clothing, waiting for him as he moved closer again.

This time, his hands slipped to your front, and he looked over your shoulder as he started undoing the buttons of your blouse, not even caring that you were still wearing the blazer. His breath skimmed on the side of your face as he did so, and your eyes fluttered closed as you focused on every brush of fabric against you while he worked his way down your blouse.

He pushed both the blouse and blazer off your shoulders when he was done, and they fell on the floor behind you. He didn’t seem to care as he wrapped his arm to your front, moving up until he grabbed your breasts through your bra, squeezing slightly.

“Get on the bed,” he commanded then, and still the good puppet you did, walking to the mattress and sitting down, eyes finally finding him again.

He didn’t say anything as he slowly undressed, pulling his cardigan off. It fell somewhere next to the pile of your clothing, and then he attacked the polo, taking it off in one swift motion that revealed the expanse of his wide chest.

His honey skin seemed to prettily gleam in the moonlight, where it was pulled taught over the big muscles of his chest. He looked sculpted in marble, big and buff, and you closed your thighs in reflex at the thought of his weight over you.

Needless to say, he didn’t look like that when he was a teenager at all. Adulthood looked good on him.

He unbuckled his belt next, taking his time as you just surveyed him. Even in the dim light from the full moon outside, you could see the bulge in his pants, and you salivated at the thought of wrapping your lips around him, of tasting him and making him feel good.

The belt fell with a thud to the ground, and your lips parted as he palmed himself, enhancing the size of his bulge. Your eyes widened slightly – he looked far bigger than you had initially thought he’d be, though you weren’t all that surprised with his large frame.

“Take off your bra,” he said next. “I want to see your breasts.”

You nodded, hands going to your back as you unclasped the bra. You slowly took it off, nipples perking when cold air hit them. You shivered once again as his eyes roamed over you, and even more so when he said, “Beautiful” as if you were a piece of art made for him to admire.

And with the way he was looking at you, you thought maybe, maybe you were.

He took a few steps towards you, and your eyes darted towards the lamp on your bedside table. Namjoon caught your motion, and he tutted lightly. “Not tonight,” he told you. “Tonight is about feeling, not about seeing.”

For some reason, you had expected him to be a lights-on kind of partner, but you weren’t mad about his will to stay in the dark. Because you knew all too well how much pleasure could course through your blood when your sense of sight was taken from you. As an artist, you relied on it far more than a lot of people – the loss of it made you weak, in a burning kind of way.

If you were honest, you enjoyed being blindfolded a lot, but you didn’t see yourself asking Namjoon to do it today. Lights off seemed the closest thing to it, so you didn’t argue with him as he used a knee to part your legs in an attempt to get closer to you.

He grabbed your chin, making you tilt your head back so he could catch your gaze. His eyes were dark, even in the silvery moonlight, and you gulped as he gently patted your cheek.

“You’re going to feel good for me, mmh?”

You nodded, entirely unable to use words right now. Mostly because you were but a puppet, and he the puppeteer. He smirked, satisfied, before unbuttoning his pants. Your eyes dropped, and you watched him do it expectantly, teeth gently digging into your bottom lip in apprehension.

The good kind, the one that made you burst into an explosion of flames.

“You think you can wrap your pretty lips around my dick?” he asked.

For a reason unknown, all you were able to mutter back was, “Namjoon.”

“Yes, baby?”

You gulped, and you looked up at him again. You didn’t watch as he took his pants and underwear off in the same motion, didn’t budge your gaze as you heard the slap of his hard dick on his abdomen. From the way his arm moved, large bicep popping slightly, you knew he was jerking off, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look down. Couldn’t bring yourself to gaze away from his eyes as they burned on you, searing their mark right on your soul.

“What is it?” he asked again, with a barely concealed warning in his voice.

He wasn’t one to have to repeat, was he? No, you were pretty sure Namjoon was used to being obeyed, with being the leader of a boyband like BTS. Pretty sure he expected to be obeyed, and somehow that turned you from puppet to puppeteer, as your hands rested on his thick, muscular thighs.

“You want me to suck your dick?” you asked, voice sultry as you moved your hands up, never touching him where he so visibly wanted.

His lips parted, though he remained surprisingly silent. He clearly didn’t expect you to take control of the situation, but from the way his features darkened even more, you knew he liked it.

“Want me to suck you dry?” you added. “Want to come down my throat?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, and he grabbed the base of his dick to gently tap it against the corner of your mouth. “Better get to work, baby. You’re a lot of talk for someone that hasn’t touched me yet.”

“Say please,” you teased, and you let one of your hands move between his legs so you could cup his balls. They sat heavy in your palm, seemingly ready to explode.

“Fuck,” he repeated, adding your name at the end. “Who would have thought you had this in you?”

Emboldened by his words, you licked at his tip, collecting the precum on his slit. “That wasn’t please.”

He clenched his jaw, eyes shutting in frustration before he finally said, “Please, baby. Please suck my dick.”

You sucked on his tip once, tongue swirling around it, before pulling away. “Good boy.”

That was Namjoon’s undoing. He let go of his dick, grabbed your head, aligning his dick with your mouth as he repeatedly cursed under his breath. You liked him like this, liked the power you had over him. So you resisted, just to piss him off further, but it only seemed to turn him into a whiny mess as begging mixed with cursing.

Only then did you finally start sucking him off, jaw straining from how big he was. It hurt, and your eyes watered as he reached the back of your throat with not even half of him in your mouth. All you could think of was that he was going to be quite a stretch down there, too, as you looked up at his features, casted in the soft silvery glow of the moon outside.

You pulled almost all the way out, but the hand on the back of your head held you in place, forcing you to keep him in your mouth. You played with the head of his cock with your tongue, swirling it around it, teasing the slit as the salty taste of precum filled your mouth. You moaned, softly, and Namjoon cursed once more, before falling entirely silent as he watched you take as much of him as you could again.

Once he hit the back of your throat, you swallowed, eyes watering again as you tried to hold in your gag reflex. It didn’t really work, and when you choked, Namjoon pulled out of your mouth.

“You okay?” he asked.

“You’re so big,” you praised, and you grabbed his dick with a loose grip, jerking him off slowly. Mostly, you spread your saliva on his length, wanting to make sure he was well-lubricated for what was to come.

“Why don’t you sit?” you told him, letting go of his dick.

He looked conflicted for about a second before he did. You readjusted yourself so you were kneeling between his powerful thighs, and the new position allowed you to bite at the hard muscles of his abdomen. He hissed, hand going to the back of your head as he guided you towards his dick once more.

“Suck me, baby,” he said, still sounding just as whiny.

Feeling like a brat, you replied, “What do I get in exchange?”

His forehead creased as he furrowed his eyebrows, searching for something to reply. Though Namjoon was not a man of many words, always choosing his words carefully, right now, it seemed he was entirely silenced.

“I’ll fuck you good,” he finally answered, voice low. He bent a little, grabbing your face, and his thumbs stroked your cheeks. “I’ll fuck you good until your legs shake and you can’t walk anymore. Is that a good deal?”

You bit your lip as he let go of you, once again grabbing his dick so he could hold it up for you. Not moving towards it, you rested your head on his thigh, before reaching between his legs to cup his balls. They were heavy in your palm, and you gently massaged them, earning you a soft grunt from him.

“Careful with the balls,” he warned you.

You pouted before leaning between his legs. You avoided his waiting cock, instead aiming for the base of his dick, right between his two balls. You then licked a long stripe towards the top, and Namjoon cursed as you swirled your tongue on his frenulum.

“My bad,” you then apologized, letting go of his balls as you made a mental note that they probably were too sensitive for him to enjoy. “Let me make it up to you.”

He cocked an eyebrow in question, but the second your lips wrapped around the tip of his cock and you sucked hard, he threw his head back, cursing out loud. It finally convinced you to get to work, and you replaced his hand on his dick so you could jerk him off in time with the bobbing of your head.

As big as he was, you found you couldn’t keep going for much longer. So instead of taking all of him in – or as much of him as you could – you focused on his tip, jerking him off faster after having spit in your hand. Looking up at him, you noticed his teeth digging into his lower lip, a clear indication that he was enjoying himself, and then you closed your eyes, focusing on the job at hand.

Focusing on pleasuring Kim Namjoon.

You sucked him off for a while, long enough for his dick to turn rock hard under your ministrations. Long enough for him to be a panting and cursing mess, long enough for your jaw to hurt so bad you almost thought it was going to dislocate. When the pain grew too intense, you sat back on your heels, and stroked his dick, twisting your wrist as you reached the tip.

“So big I can’t even suck you properly,” you commented.

“I’ll stretch you wide open, baby,” he said, and he leaned back on his hands as he looked down at you. “I’ll stretch you so wide you’ll cry my name.”

It was so crass your hand slowed on his dick as you clenched your thighs. “Fuck, Namjoon.”

He smirked, dimples dangerously decorating his cheeks, but an expert motion of your hand had him close his eyes, mouth falling open on a low moan.

“Should I ride you?” you asked him. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

“You’ll need me to get you ready,” he answered once he was able to look at you again. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You almost wanted to tell him that you were going to be okay, but he wasn’t wrong. Fucking yourself on him without having been previously fingered would definitely hurt like a bitch.

“Ride my face?” he suggested as you debated what to do.

You wet your lips, desire pumping through your blood before you told him, “Lie down.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, and you quickly climbed on top of him, straddling his face. His large hands cupped your ass, squeezing and parting your cheeks as he licked a long stripe from your entrance to your clit. He flicked his tongue against the bundle of nerves, and you hissed, fingers getting lost in his hair as you pushed it out of his eyes.

You maintained eye contact as you lowered yourself on him until you were properly seated on his pretty features. His tongue parted your folds, dipping in your entrance, and you instinctively grinded. He pushed the wet muscle deep inside of you, as deep as he could before arching it, searching for your sweet spot.

When you let out a soft moan, he flicked at the same spot again, and you grinded into his face once more.

“Fuck,” you told him. “Right there.”

He understood right away, and he started fucking you with his tongue, hitting that same spot again and again, making the corners of your vision blurry. All you could focus on were his eyes between your legs, and you moaned his name as his fingers dug into the skin of your ass. It hurt a little, and you wondered for a time if he was unaware of his strength.

You wouldn’t be surprised – he was a lot stronger than you had imagined he was.

As Namjoon kept working on you, eating you out and lapping your juices, you palmed your breast, rolling the sensitive nipple between your thumb and index. The added sensation had more of your vision turning blurry, making it hard for you to focus on Namjoon. So you closed your eyes, focusing on the pleasure moving through you, and soon enough, a knot started tightening in your core.

Instinctively, you started grinding into his face, following the rhythm of his tongue inside of you, and the knot tightened and tightened, almost painfully so. When Namjoon landed a surprising slap on your ass, you lost it, knot snapping as your orgasm hit you.

You came hard, walls pulsating around Namjoon’s tongue, and he milked all of your orgasm out of you, lapping your juices as you dripped on him. When you started getting oversensitive, you moved to sit next to him instead. Namjoon didn’t move right away, catching his breath, but when he did move, it was to wipe his chin with the back of his hand. He sat up after that, catching your lips in a quick kiss that left you breathless, mind spinning with the taste of yourself.

“Now I’m going to fuck you,” Namjoon promised.

All you could do was moan as one of his large hands moved between your legs. He pushed two fingers in, and they slid right in with all the lubrication your orgasm had just brought out of you. He fingered you for a few seconds as he littered small kisses on your shoulder and up your neck, and he nibbled at your ear once he reached it.

“You’re going to take all of me, mmh?” he asked right in your ear, voice so low and husky your walls clenched around his fingers.

“Yes,” you answered.

He pulled away, smirking in satisfaction before saying, “Get on all fours. I want to look at your ass while I’m fucking you.”

“You’d like that?” you teased him. “You want to see my ass bounce while you pound into me?”

Your two sentences were enough to silence him once more, and all he managed to do in reply was nod. It made you chuckle, and before you got into position, you crawled to your bedside table, fishing a condom out of the half-empty box you owned from a previous relationship.

“Put this on,” you told Namjoon as you handed him the condom.

He looked down at your hand. “What size is that?”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Regular.”

He laughed before shaking his head at you. You were about to argue when he got up, moving to his discarded pants so he could grab his wallet. “I need bigger than that, baby,” he told you as an explanation, and you rolled your eyes playfully as you put the condom back in your bottom drawer.

Namjoon fished an appropriately-sized condom from his wallet, and he was quick to get it out of the wrapper and put it on his hard length. He hissed a little as he rolled it down his dick, but once it was in place he moved back to the bed, kneeling behind you as you propped your ass up, keeping your face down.

“Gosh, you’re so sexy like this,” he praised you. “Ever since he saw you again, I’ve been wanting to see you like this.”

A drop of warning clouded your senses for a few seconds, but when he rubbed his dick between your folds, pushing it against your clit, lust took over once more. You grabbed at the sheets as he teased the sensitive bundle of nerves again and again, and when you had enough, you cursed.

“Fuck me,” you told him. “Fuck me before I change my mind.”

He slapped your ass. “You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

Before you could reply, he pushed the fat tip of his cock between your folds, and you moaned at the burning sensation. It was the good kind of burning, the one that left stars dancing behind your eyelids and on the periphery of your vision. It made you clutch the sheets harder, and then Namjoon pushed in, embedding himself deep inside of you.

He grabbed your hips, fingers digging into the supple skin so hard you were pretty sure they were going to leave marks behind, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you did was moan loudly, especially as he pulled almost all the way out before slapping his hips forward again.

It was rough, and your body jerked forward from the impact of his pelvis on your ass. You couldn’t think, couldn’t feel anything other than the stretch between your legs, and when he started pounding into you, you felt him so deep you cried out his name.

“That’s it, baby,” he encouraged you. “You take me so well.”

He slightly slowed down, but his hips still snapped forward in quick and harsh thrusts as he leaned forward, adjusting the position. When he was satisfied by the new angle, he resumed his previous speed, as one of his hands grabbed at your hair, pulling it in a makeshift ponytail so he could keep you in place.

He didn’t pull on your hair harder than that, didn’t force you look back at him, and for a moment, all that could be heard in the room was the sound of skin slapping on skin, and the moans and grunts you two were making. It was loud, and you were glad you lived in a house and not an apartment – you were pretty sure your neighbours would have heard otherwise.

When Namjoon landed another slap on your ass, you cursed loudly, and it made him still halfway out of you. He massaged the spot gently, soothing the skin with his warm fingers. “Do you want to switch position?” he asked.

As much as the current position felt good, you knew this angle would never make you cum. So you nodded your head, and Namjoon pulled out of you, sitting back on his heels. You turned towards him, and your eyes fell to his hardened length. To your juice coating the condom, and you got an idea.

“Lean back on your hands,” you ordered.

He cocked an eyebrow in question, yet he still obeyed. When he was properly positioned, you climbed on top of him, grabbing his cock to guide it towards your entrance. You help onto his shoulder with your other hand, and you slowly sunk on him until his cock hit your cervix. It hurt a little, the angle different from earlier yet making you feel so much more, and you grabbed onto his other shoulder.

“Shit,” you cursed.

“You okay?”

You nodded. “You’re so fucking deep.” And then you leaned back a little, and both of your gazes dropped to the space where your bodies were connected. To the bulge in your tummy as you slightly leaned back. “So fucking big we can see you in me.”

He moaned and threw his head back as you moved up, only to slam back down a second later. He put all of his weight on one hand, and his other settled on your waist, following you as you established a slow and sensual rhythm, rolling your hips whenever he was deep inside of you. It had his big cock rubbing against that sweet spot inside of you, and when the corners of your vision turned white, you started moving faster.

You grabbed onto his neck, not squeezing, and you felt him swallow under your palm. Your pleasure increased tenfold as the hand on your waist moved to cup your breast, and when he squeezed your nipple, you clenched your walls hard against his dick.

“Fuck,” he let out, and he looked at you.

The moment his gaze met yours, you started choking him, increasing your speed to chase your orgasm. His mouth fell open, and his dick reached deep inside of you as you kept going, kept splitting yourself on him.

When your orgasm hit, you wrapped an arm around his neck, burying your face in his shoulder. He circled your waist, fucking up into you as much as he could in this position. He rode you through your high, and you were a shaking mess when he finally slowed down, hand rubbing your back soothingly.

“Lie down for me,” he gently said.

You were too lost in ecstasy to argue, and you craved his dick the second it was out of your pussy. He wasn’t out for long, and he kneeled between your legs, holding them to his chest as he pushed in in one powerful thrust. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head with the sensation, and you moaned out his name as he established an unforgiving rhythm.

When his teeth sunk into your calf in a clear attempt to muffle his own moans, you clenched hard around him, and it was enough to get him close. To your surprise, he pulled out of you, quickly taking off the condom, and he pumped his dick, emptying his load on your stomach and pelvis. The feeling of every hot spurt on you had you reach between you, and when some landed on your fingers, you quickly brought them to your mouth, getting a taste of him.

Namjoon grunted, and he slowly decreased the rhythm of his jerking off until he was just holding his dick over you, one last drop of cum meeting the rest on your stomach. You didn’t move for a long time, both of you trying to catch your breath. It took a while, but once your pulse had stopped racing, you propped yourself up on your elbows, looking at the white mess on your stomach.

“You made quite a mess,” you teased him.

“Sorry,” he sheepishly said. “Was that okay?”

You nodded. “As long as you clean it up, yes.”

He laughed, bending so he could retrieve some tissues from your nightstand. He first cleaned his fingers, and then your stomach, making sure not to leave a single drop behind. Still, you felt sticky, and when you offered him to take a shower, he agreed right away.

You let the warm water run on your body, taking with it your sweat and Namjoon’s cum, as you ran your hands through your hair. You sighed, opening your eyes to the sight of him as he looked down at you, a fond smile on his lips.

“Can you pass me the shampoo?”

He nodded, but instead of giving it to you, he motioned for you to turn. “I’ll wash your hair.”

The domesticity of the action had your cheeks burning, and all you could do was hope he hadn’t noticed. You still turned, and when he started massaging your head, you shut your eyes, sighing in contentment. When he was done, he made you turn around so he could wash the shampoo out of your hair, making sure you didn’t get any in your eyes. After that, you switched place so he could wash his own hair, while you busied yourself with cleaning your body, erasing what was left of the action that had transpired between you and Kim Namjoon.

You didn’t speak more in the shower, though you did exchange a slow kiss once you were both entirely clean. Namjoon’s lips seemed more hesitant now, but as you wrapped your arms around his waist, it was his turn to sigh in contentment. His kiss grew more affirmative now, as if he was trying to tell you that he, too, felt a certain way with you.

Because right now, you felt like you were floating, like you were an astronaut in zero gravity. It was dizzying, but in a beautiful way as you held onto him, and he held onto you. It was filled with memories of the past, yes, but also of promises of the future.

That was when you remembered what he had said right before you had started having sex. How he had been imagining you like this ever since you had met again, thirteen years after you’d disappeared from his life. The previous wariness returned, and you pulled away from the kiss to rest your forehead on his chest. He let you do it, unaware of the drop of doubt that was solidifying into lead in your stomach.

After the shower, you lied in bed, Namjoon by your side, unable to form a sentence. Unable to breathe your worries into words, unable to share with Namjoon that you were afraid he only wanted you for sex. And you tried, you really tried to speak, but all you could do was slowly breathe in and out, trying to calm your racing heart before it burst inside your chest.

Right when you thought you had gathered enough courage, Namjoon softly snored next to you, and you realized that, after all, it was too late to share your concerns.

*****

You stared at the scenery out of the window. You hadn’t been to Ilsan in a long time, but when Namjoon had mentioned he was going to visit his family, offering you a ride – a company official ride, considering he couldn’t drive – you hadn’t been able to say no. So you watched Ilsan from the window of your parents’ kitchen, remembering growing up.

Remembering days of childhood innocence, and of teenager crushes. Of teenager fights, and breakups that had shaped who you had turned out to be. It was strange to think that you were going to circle your way back to Namjoon, that you were going to come here to Ilsan, with him.

You hadn’t told your parents. When they had seen you arrive, they had asked how you had gotten here, considering your car was nowhere to be seen. You had lied through your teeth, saying that you had taken the train, and they hadn’t pushed, knowing that you indeed often took the train anyway, in an attempt to clear your head and sketch some ideas for your next art piece.

Instead, you had been at the back of a company car, chatting the ride away with Kim Namjoon as if it wasn’t only the tenth time you had seen him again after your breakup thirteen years ago. It was like you had never parted – complicity between Kim Namjoon and you was easy as breathing, as natural as the sun shining in the sky overhead. And the sun had shone all the way home, as if to tell you that your worries meant nothing.

But your worries were still haunting you. Hadn’t stopped haunting you since you had sex with him, chasing you through your days, taunting you through your nights. You weren’t able to escape them, especially not as he acted the way that he did.

That is, as if you were far closer than you were. As if the years hadn’t come and gone, as if thirteen years had been just the blink of an eye. It was strange to you, stranger still, that whenever you were with him, you tended to forget too. Tended to bask in his warmth, and it was no wonder your relationship was so physical.

Indeed, sometimes you even thought that it was all there was. Because each time you had seen him after your date had been physical, his body on top of yours as he fucked your brains out. As you climbed on top in an attempt to gain control, but you doubted you’d ever have the control when it came to Kim Namjoon.

So you looked outside the kitchen window, trying to remember who you were. Trying to remember what you wanted, and trying to figure out what you should eat for dinner later.

You were here for four days, and though you had brought supplies so you could paint here, hoping your childhood home would bring you inspiration, all you had been able to do was worry about Kim Namjoon and what he meant in your life.

You weren’t sure it mattered. Because even though your relationship was purely physical, it still brought you satisfaction. Always left you swimming in ecstasy, always made you sleep soundly for a few days.

It had been weeks since your date. Almost two months, actually. Namjoon had texted you regularly, though the conversation never really delved into subjects that mattered. He was too busy to hang out often, but he made you feel as if he was making time for you. Yet you couldn’t shake what he had said out of your mind.

Did you want to just be someone Kim Namjoon saw when he needed to fuck? When he needed to paint himself on you, to bring more confusion into the mess of art your mind had been since the date?

The answer was easy. No, you didn’t wish to be just that. You’d never been one to have fuck buddies, and every time you saw Namjoon, the impression was reinforced. Perhaps because he made small comments, about how he was glad he could fuck you, glad you were in his bed.

Glad you moaned out his name whenever you came, and evidently, he made you come plenty enough. But yet you needed more, and you hated yourself for it.

Why complicate something that was so easy? So you remained silent, never said anything, though you did hold onto him as much as you could when you slept in his arms, trying to remind yourself that if he just wanted sex, he wouldn’t sleep over, or ask you to stay.

Would he have offered to drive you to Ilsan if you were nothing to him? You highly doubted so. Especially considering how he had talked to you, how comfortable he was next to you.

You sighed, looking away from the window as you turned towards the living room. Your father was napping on the couch, and your mother had gone to the market, declining your offer to come with as she had claimed you needed to work on your paintings.

You had been staring at the canvas for an hour before you had come to the kitchen to grab a glass of water, and you had already finished it as you had watched the world outside the kitchen window, lost in thought. You figured taking a walk would help clear your mind, and you hoped you’d find inspiration by the time you were back home.

Though the weather was warmer outside than it was weeks ago, when you had your date with Namjoon, you still wrapped a thick scarf around your neck, burying yourself in the warm coat you had brought here. You put on your Chelsea boots, and the minute you stepped outside, you loosened the scarf.

The air smelled fresh and hinted at spring. There was no snow, most of it having melted under the peculiar warmth, and by the time you made it to the end of the street, you unzipped your coat too, feeling too hot.

You turned to your left, bowing your head slightly at the older couple that you passed. They reciprocated, but you didn’t pay attention to them more than necessary as you walked towards the park behind your middle school. The middle school where you and Namjoon had first fallen in love when you were dumb and young.

Ten minutes later, the building came into view, and memories swarmed in, chasing Namjoon out of your thoughts. Well, chasing current Namjoon out of your thoughts as you remembered your classes, and the teacher that you had always hated. As you remembered sitting on the bleachers of the soccer field, chatting the evening away when you were supposed to be home.

It was no surprise that you found yourself making your way to those bleachers, and you sat as high as you could, eyeing the empty field. It was the middle of the week, and the soccer field was empty save for birds searching for worms in the wet grass.

You leaned back on your hands so you could look up, gazing at the few clouds in the sky. Wind played with your hair, blowing it in your face, but you ignored it, focusing on the fresh air. Your eyes fluttered shut, and you inhaled deeply.

You were calm and content... until you let out a startled cry as someone said your name. Your eyes flew open to the sight of Kim Namjoon at the bottom of the bleachers, looking up at you.

“You scared the shit out of me,” you told him, hand on your racing heart. “What are you doing here?”

“I was just out on a walk,” he informed you. “Didn’t expect to run into you.”

He walked up the bleachers, sitting next to you before you replied. “Your parents are bothering you?” you teased, gently nudging him.

“Nah,” he said, laughing. “I’ve been songwriting since I got here? Can’t get this song right, so I decided to walk. Thought it’d help clear my mind.”

Of course, he was out and about for the same reason as you. Because you and Kim Namjoon were far more similar than you wanted to believe it. Sometimes, it led you to think that you were two of the same person, and usually, whenever you thought that you had to rein yourself in, reminding yourself that all he did with you was have sex.

“Couldn’t paint,” you admitted.

“Your parents are bothering you?” he asked, repeating your question with a corner smile and a single dimple.

This time, you pushed him, laughing before replying, “You’re annoying.”

He grinned, though you both fell silent as your gazes moved up to the sky, and you enjoyed the afternoon warmth. You knew the night would get cold, but you still had a few more hours of sunlight before the world gave way to darkness.

“You know,” he said as your eyes chased a white cloud on the cerulean expanse of the sky. “I was hoping we could hang out, while we’re here?”

He said it like a question, as if asking for permission, and it had your heart race in your chest. “Aren’t you afraid of your parents asking questions?”

“Not really,” he answered. “They know that you came with me. They want me to invite you over for dinner.”

Your gaze widened as it dropped to him. He was already looking at you, a small, hopeful smile on his lips. “Is that something that we’re supposed to be doing?” you enquired.

It seemed to take him by surprise. “What do you mean?”

You reckoned now was a good time as any to voice your concerns. Perhaps because the scene was familiar, safe, and you couldn’t deal with the concern gnawing at your nerves anymore.

“What are we, exactly?” you said, softly, finally giving voice to the worries.

Namjoon’s eyes went round as blush crept on his cheeks. “What?”

The drop of lead from that first date grew inside of you. “It’s just… we’ve only been hanging out for sex, correct?”

“Is that what it is for you?” he enquired after a few seconds of silence, of him just watching you with a somber expression.

You chuckled awkwardly. “To be entirely honest, I don’t do this. So no, I’d hope it’s not that, but…” you trailed off, eyes falling to the field in front of you. “You haven’t really made me feel like you’re in this for more than just sex.”

He leaned forward as if trying to gain your attention. As your gaze remained stubbornly on the empty field, he said your name once. His voice was soft, gentle, and that, more than anything, made you turn to look at him.

“I thought we were… dating?” he admitted. “I… I’m sorry if I just… assumed?”

It was such a Namjoon thing to do that you couldn’t even blame him. His revelation made the lead melt away to be replaced by a sweet warmth much like the one the sun rays carried. “Oh?”

As you didn’t say anything else, Namjoon straightened, putting a little distance between the two of you. “Unless that’s not what you want?”

In truth, yes, it probably was what you had been wanting since the beginning. Since he had arrived at your house with the flowers before the date, and since his lips had found yours for the first time again after thirteen years apart. You had been wanting him, more than just physically.

“I mean…” You chuckled awkwardly again, shrugging your shoulders. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

He grinned, dimples flashing blindingly, even more so than the sun in the sky up above. “Good. So you’ll come over for dinner?”

This time you laughed, and you cocked an eyebrow. “With just a few hours notice?”

“Yeah?” He shrugged. “My parents already know you, what does it change?”

And when you held his soft gaze, you decided why not? Why not dive in feet first, and not care about the consequences?

You doubted there’d be anything negative to come out of a dinner with Namjoon’s parents. And turned out you were right – both of them were happy to see you, and Namjoon’s mom kept repeating how proud she was that Namjoon had found you again, in Seoul. To Namjoon’s dismay, she told you about just how much Namjoon had cried after your breakup, and about how much it had encouraged him to become a rapper. Namjoon was red up to the tip of his ears as you looked at him, yet he didn’t scold his mother, didn’t tell her to stop.

And this, most of all, was the Namjoon you remembered from thirteen years ago. A shy, sweet boy who was always good to his elders, always polite and ready to help. He did help his mother, doing the dishes along with you after you’d eaten, and when it was time for you to leave, his father scolded him and told him to walk you home.

Namjoon grumbled that he was already going to do so, and you said your goodbyes to his parents before walking out into the night. It was a lot colder than it had been during the day, and you buried your hands in the pockets of your coat as you walked close to Namjoon, his arm brushing yours with every step that you took.

“Sorry about that,” Namjoon apologized.

You glanced up at him, gazing at the aura around his head caused by the streetlight behind him. “About what?”

He shrugged. “The dinner. I didn’t expect my parents to be weird about it.”

“They weren’t,” you reassured him. You walked in silence for a time, eyes moving back to the street in front of you. It was empty, even though it wasn’t particularly late at night. Perhaps it rendered you bolder, because you said, “I’m really happy I said yes. I missed them.”

He smiled, softly. “They missed you too.”

A comfortable silence moved between you, and you basked in it as you made your way home, with your teenage lover by your side. It was hard to believe that he was next to you right now, and just like that, you knew what you were going to paint when you were home.

“The night is beautiful,” Namjoon said softly. “Makes it feel like we never left, you know?”

“Like it hasn’t been thirteen years, right?”

He nodded. “The weight of the years does feel lesser since we’ve reconnected.”

His words had warmth blossom in your chest, heating up your body in the cold early spring night. They had you glance at him, and when you found him already looking at you, you stopped. He stopped just a step ahead of you, turning to look at you.

“Do you think we were just right people, wrong time?” you asked. “I’ve been thinking… it’s been so easy with you, since our date. It’s strange to believe that it would be, no?”

“The years haven’t changed us as much as you’d imagined they would,” he agreed. “Like…” he glanced up at the sky, searching for words to voice his feelings. “BTS came into my life after you. I’d say it changed me, made me grow up far faster than I thought I would. Being the leader and all, I had a lot of responsibilities on me, you know?”

You nodded, not really knowing where he was going.

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be the leader,” he continued, revealing something you weren’t sure he had said out loud to anyone before. “I wish I didn’t have this weight on me and… in November, when I saw you again, I was going through a hard time. I didn’t entirely recognize you at first, but I was drawn to your gallery again and… I tried to find a reason to visit. To find a reason to talk to you.”

His eyes met yours again, and you almost balked at the intensity of his gaze.

“I felt lighter with you than I’d felt in years. So, when you say right people, wrong time, I think you’re right. I think thirteen years ago was all fucked up for us, but I think we were always meant to find each other again, through all the craziness of the world.”

You didn’t hesitate. You grabbed the lapels of his coat, pulling him down in a kiss. He kissed you back instantly, though his lips were slow against yours. Soft, anchoring you in this moment, in this space that had used to be yours when you were younger. He kissed you like time had slowed for you, like you had all night to stay right here, in this spot.

Your heart found a soothing rhythm in your chest, one echoed in his own ribcage, and his large hands found your waist to pull you closer. When he slipped his tongue in your mouth, you sighed dreamily, the taste of him so heavenly now that the lead in your stomach was gone that you thought you were going to start flying right here, right now.

Namjoon pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, and your breaths moved up in the sky, forming a single cloud over your heads.

“Had I known that you were worried I wasn’t into you like this, I wouldn’t have had sex with you every time we hung out,” he admitted, softly.

That, more than anything else, finished reassuring you.

“Hey,” you let out. “It’s okay. I should have spoken to you about it before.”

He pecked your lips once more before pulling away. He offered you his hand, and you gently took it as he smiled at you, his dimples so familiar on his cheeks that you wanted to drown in him.

“Let’s get you home,” he said. “I wouldn’t want your parents to worry.”

“I’m an adult now,” you reminded him, earning a laugh as he pulled you towards your house.

He shrugged. “They are still your parents; they’ll always worry for you.”

His words held truth, so you didn’t resist as he finished walking you home. You stood in front of the gate, looking at each other, and Namjoon gently brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers grazed down your face until they rested on your jaw, and he leaned down to press another gentle kiss on your lips, one that had you wish you didn’t have to part with him for the night.

One day, you liked to believe you wouldn’t have to part at all.

*****

Being in a relationship with Kim Namjoon was easy. The weeks following your trip to Ilsan had you growing ever so closer, and you accompanied him to a dinner with all of his members. There, you saw what it meant for him to be the leader, but you kept your hand in his, bearing the weight of it along with him, even though it wasn’t like he had to keep them in check in private.

You had left early as you needed to go to your studio early in the morning, but had been unable to part with Namjoon, which wasn’t all that surprising to you or him. You both liked sharing a bed, liked the closeness that it allowed you. So you stayed the night, and the next day you made your way to your studio level-headed, ready to paint all day after your meeting with your manager. Your phone was dead, but you knew she wasn’t one to miss a meeting, and you figured you could always charge your phone when you got to the studio.

To your surprise, Sooah wasn’t alone when you got there. There was a suit-clad man, and he bowed his head at you respectfully as you walked in. You threw a curious look to Sooah, and the expression on her face made your heart drop to your ass, if that was possible.

“Hi,” the man politely said. “I’m glad you’ve finally showed up.”

He sounded annoyed, and it grated your nerves right away. You cocked an eyebrow before saying, “To whom do I owe the pleasure?”

“I am Jo Jonghyuk,” he answered, offering his hand for you to shake. “Hybe representative.”

You let out a nervous chuckle. “What’s bringing you here?

Sooah was the one to answer. “There’s been leaked pictures of you and Namjoon,” she informed you carefully. “They are… all over the media this morning.”

A drop of cold sweat rolled down your spine. “Excuse me?”

You hadn’t noticed it before, but the man had a briefcase. He quickly opened it, getting a stack of papers out of it that he handed to you unceremoniously. You looked at them, eyes widening as you saw the series of pictures, all of them of you and Namjoon.

And your face was far too recognizable. You couldn’t pretend it wasn’t you, couldn’t pretend you had no idea what the man was talking about. So when he asked if there was a space where you could sit down to discuss, you let Sooah suggest heading downstairs. You followed them with fear in your gut, and even when you were sitting on the couches downstairs, you still couldn’t stop your heart from racing in your chest.

“So,” the man said. “We’re aware that our artists have lives outside of the company.” He paused, watching you carefully. “But we need to preserve their image. I’m sure you can understand?”

Sooah saved you by replying. “What is that supposed to mean for Y/n?”

“Namjoon is currently in a meeting with other representatives. He will be asked the same thing as you,” the man offered as an explanation.

You cocked an eyebrow. “And what is it that I’m going to be asked?”

“Keep the relationship behind closed doors.” The man motioned around you. “As an artist, I’m sure you understand how one’s image is important. The stocks are going to be impacted if it is said that Kim Namjoon is in a relationship, and not for the better. We are going to release a statement later in the day to refute the rumours.”

It wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be, yet you still felt sick, down to your very core. “And this needed an early morning meeting?”

You’d like to think that you sounded arrogant, defiant, but your voice was filled with nerves, shaking pathetically.

The man offered you a polite smile. “No. I’m here to have you sign an NDA.”

That made more sense. And still, it wasn’t as bad as you expected it to be – it wasn’t like you were going to scream about your relationship with Namjoon. After all, it still was fairly new, and you also wanted to preserve your anonymity.

In that instant, as the man pulled out said NDA from his briefcase, you understood something. Your anonymity was gone, gone like the winds of winter as the world outside slowly turned to spring.

Your face was visible in the pictures. People had seen you around the gallery, outside of official events, when you wore your mask.

You signed with a trembling hand, barely recognizing your own name on the paper, and the man offered you a copy of it before saying that he had to go. He thanked you for your cooperation on the way out, and when he was gone, disappearing at the bend in the street, you turned towards Sooah.

“I’m fucked,” you said.

She pursed her lips, concern moving on her features. “You are not. There’s no indication that people will associate you with Maehwa. I don’t think this will affect the gallery.”

You shook your head. “You don’t understand.” You scoffed, gaze dropping to the floor as the lead you had felt after your first date with Namjoon rematerialized, turning into a reality you didn’t think you were ready to gaze at. “It’s just a matter of time. His fandom discovers everything. They will know it’s me.”

“Then we’ll use it as publicity.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at your manager. “You can’t be serious.”

“Your art is beautiful,” she reminded you. “You’ve been building your reputation for years. Why would you being a human, having relationships, impact it?” She paused as if to give weight to her question. “It’s just going to put emphasis to the emotion in your art. People won’t see you as a masked individual anymore, but rather as the person behind the artist.”

You didn’t want to hear her. Knew she was being rational, yet couldn’t bear the truth in her words. Perhaps because you had always loved your anonymity. Always wanted to keep it, to use it to protect yourself from the world of fame, a world you had never wanted for yourself.

No, you just wanted to make art. To enjoy the science behind the pieces, the emotions that made you create. You were afraid it was going to be taken from you now. And who were you to blame? It was just a question of time before people connected the dots between you and Namjoon, thanks to the pictures, yes, but also to the interview that had yet to be released.

“Deep breaths,” Sooah said calmly, cutting through your spiraling. “I promise it’ll be okay.”

“What if it’s not?” you asked. “What if I can’t paint anymore?”

“You’ve been painting your whole life,” she reminded you. “You won’t suddenly stop because of rumours about you.”

See, that was the logical way to think about it. You clung to the words, held them close to your heart and let them replay in your head. It eased the anxiety that was building inside of you, and soon enough, your frantic breathing returned to normal.

“Shit.”

Sooah raised her eyebrows, waiting to make sure your spiraling truly was over. When you didn’t say anything else, she nodded once, patting you on the shoulder. “It’s all going to work out. And besides, congrats on your relationship with Namjoon?”

She said it like a question because, frankly, you hadn’t told Miyoung or Sooah a lot about you and Namjoon, except that you were taking things slow. It was the best you had been able to come up with, back when you thought he was only seeking carnal union with you, and you hadn’t changed the narrative after you and Namjoon had made it official in Ilsan.

And later, as you worked on the painting you had started in Ilsan, you pictured the cold night, when he had kissed you under the streetlamps. When you had realized that you had truly been wrong all along, that life was a cycle bringing you back to him. Back to where it had all started. You remembered his soft lips on yours, and that, most of all, finished calming you down from the anxiety.

Every stroke of your brush on the canvas, every new line, meant a thousand words, as you painted. As you created art from nothing but the memories your art held, as you put them together to form the image that had come to you that cold night. It was beautiful, in a heavy kind of way, because the emotions were heavy. The love, the recognition and the knowledge of life and the cycle of it, all entwined together to form something that only you and Namjoon could understand.

And as you worked, forgetting all about the world outside, all about the threat to your anonymity, you believed everything was going to be alright…

Almost.

*****

“Thank you,” you thanked the young girls after they were done perusing your gallery.

It had taken all but a few hours for your artist self to be associated with Kim Namjoon and your gallery. On the same day, you had received more visitors than you had ever had, and though you had donned your mask, you knew it was pointless.

Knew from the looks and the whispers that people knew. Still, for the next following days, you kept wearing your mask. Kept trying to ignore how people weren’t here for your art anymore, but rather for you as a person. For your connection to Kim Namjoon, for what you meant to him and what he meant to you.

Namjoon had been understanding when you had told him how anxious the situation was making you. Had suggested avoiding public spaces altogether, and so far, you had only been able to see him once for dinner two days ago.

The dinner had been spent in far more silence than usual, while you both contemplated what this meant for you. You had settled on really taking it slow, letting the rumours die of their own volution instead of doing more about them. Because Hybe had released a statement, and already Dispatch was on the newest rumour, forgetting all about your possible connection with Kim Namjoon.

Except for the fans, that is. Because the fans came to your gallery, complimented your art, though you did see them snickering in your back. Before, you had believed you were above this, above petty gossiping and jealous bullying, especially coming from younger people. After all, younger people were that – young, and youth often held an amount of stupidity that was rarely found elsewhere.

As it had been the case for you and Namjoon, thirteen years ago.

Still, you found you were increasingly anxious, and instead of expecting Namjoon’s next message, his next call, you started dreading them. It was vicious, poisoning your blossoming relationship without him even being aware of it.

How could you blame him? He was used to this life, after all.

You sighed in your mask, hating the way your eyes burned. They burned more now that you wore the mask more often, drying out whenever you breathed out too strongly. You had gotten artificial tears, and you couldn’t wait to be able to lubricate your eyes as you watched the last few people milling about your gallery.

It was almost closing time, and you were looking forward to it more than you usually did. Mostly because you wanted to bask in calmness and silence for a while, if only to be able to get a grip on the anxiety.

Two older women approached you, hands behind their backs, where you stood by the big painting of Ilsan. They bowed politely, and to your relief, asked you if one of the pieces was for sale. Art enthusiasts, then. It was reassuring to see some of them in your gallery, even after all the recent events.

“Yes,” you answered them politely. “It’s currently on auction for the month. You can put in your own bid if you’d like.”

The smallest one pursed her lips, tilting her head to the side. “How expensive was the last bid?”

Even though this was supposed to be Sooah’s job, you still had access to the app where the bidding took place. So you took your phone out of your pocket, heart dropping in your chest when the screen lit up to show you three texts from Namjoon. You ignored them, swiping the phone open before clicking on the app.

As it loaded, you looked up to smile at the women. “Just a moment.”

They nodded in understanding, yet one of them looked over her shoulder as if annoyed. You felt bad, but it wasn’t like you controlled the technology. All you could do was wait, and the second the app opened, you scrolled down to the current bidding.

You hadn’t checked it since the bidding had started. Lowest bid had been set at 5 million won, but right now, the number you were reading on the screen didn’t even make any sense.

“Huh,” you let out, and you looked at the women, chuckling awkwardly. “It seems the bid for this piece has gone out of the roof.”

That was putting it lightly. Because, looking at the amount on your phone, you believed the bid had been sent to outer orbit.

The smaller woman winced. “How high?”

“1.2 billion won,” you replied. You checked your phone to make sure and even showed the screen to them.

“Oh,” she said. “We can’t afford that.”

You offered them an apologetic smile. “I have more pieces that are on sale and not on auction if you want me to show you.”

The one that seemed like she wanted to leave suddenly widened her gaze. “Oh, that would be lovely.”

They ended up buying a smaller drawing, saying that they were sure the value of it would skyrocket if they ever wanted to sell it. You wanted to tell them that it probably was just a bubble caused by the rumour and that it’d soon burst. Evidently, you couldn’t tell them that, both because of the NDA and because you were growing tongue-tied with the praise they were sending your way. Instead, all you did was offer them a wink, saying that you hoped they’d hold onto it dearly, and then you walked them to the door as it was closing time anyway.

When the door was locked behind them, you leaned against it, sighing shakily. With trembling hands, you fished your phone out of your pocket, and you went through the different pieces you had on auction. Half of the profits were going to a charity for abused women, and still, it’d leave you with much more money than you ever thought you’d own.

You called Sooah, but it was her day off. You didn’t expect her to pick up, as she had told you she was going to be busy tonight, and of course, she didn’t. You still sent her a text to tell her to check the auction app, and then you pushed up from the door, heading to your studio downstairs.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, amidst the brushes and pots of paint you had left hanging around, not really caring about cleaning after yourself when you were in the arms of inspiration. But right now, the mess was making you feel like an imposter, like people would soon find out that you weren’t worth it.

It was then that you finally checked what Namjoon had sent you.

I hope all is well, his first message read. It was followed by, I’ll be in the studio until later tonight, but would you like to hang out after? Finally, his last message was, I’m going to come over to your studio after closing hour with take-out

For some reason, the thought of him coming here made you want to disappear through the floor, but it was already too late. Indeed, your phone started vibrating in your hand with an upcoming call, and his name on the screen taunted you, telling you that, yes, you were just an imposter.

You picked up, hands shaking slightly as you brought the phone to your ear.

“Busy night,” Namjoon said as a greeting.

You let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. You’re on your way?”

“I’m outside,” he admitted. “Just waiting for some people to walk away before I come in. I assume it’s locked?”

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “I’ll come open for you.”

There was an awkward silence as if he expected you to say something more. When you didn’t, he said, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, and cringed at yourself. You weren’t a liar, hated lying, and lying to him felt like you were eating something foul. “Just tired.”

“Well, I hope you’re excited for some take-out. I got your favourite.”

Now, your heart ached in your chest. Because that was Namjoon. Namjoon would always get your favourite food, would always know what to do to cheer you up. Tonight, it felt wrong, as if you didn’t deserve it.

And really, did you deserve it at all? Did you deserve the attention that he had brought to you? Did you deserve the shine in the spotlight?

You highly doubted so.

Walking upstairs felt like a trek to the top of Mount Everest. You were aware that it was anxiety, that you probably shouldn’t listen to the thoughts right now. But they were taunting you, haunting you, a thousand little ghosts spinning around your head in dizzying circles until all that was left was a broken piece of you.

The sight of Namjoon, hood up and mask on, on the other side of the door wasn’t a relief. It was a hand clutching your throat, choking you up until you were left gasping for air on the ground. You stalled for a few seconds, and you wondered if he could feel your hesitancy. If he knew the spirals you had been going down, if he knew you were questioning everything.

You clenched your jaw, sighed deeply, and somehow a small spark of light split the darkness. Because this was Namjoon. This was the same Namjoon as a decade ago. The first boy you had ever loved – could he still really just be that today?

Finally, you walked over to the door, unlocked it and opened it for him. His dragon eyes were unreadable, but they were questioning. You felt as if they were asking questions to your soul directly and, ever bared in front of him, you were pretty sure your soul was answering.

“Hey baby,” he greeted you as he walked in, and you quickly shut the door and locked it behind him.

“Hi,” you said, voice vulnerable in the midst of your anxiety.

“You’ve been busy?” he asked, the soothing tone of his voice dragging a gentle hand on your back, telling you that maybe, maybe if you could let go of the anxiety, everything would be okay.

But could you, when its talons had sunk so deep into your heart you couldn’t quite tell if it was still beating?

“Yeah,” you answered. “I’ve been working on a piece and… didn’t see the time fly.”

He nodded understandingly. “Of course. That’s why I brought food.”

And that was how you found yourself sitting next to him on the couch in your studio, eyes trailing to your piece of art. You wondered if he could see your anxiety in the swirls of darker colours on the canvas. Could he tell you were haunted?

Could he be the solution?

“I think my album is going to be good,” he said as he swallowed the fried chicken he was eating. “You’re going to love it.”

You pursed your lips, not willing to tell him that you’d always loved whatever he made, even back then. “Of course.”

He flashed you a smile, but you could see that it wasn’t quite reaching his eyes. He didn’t say anything though, and you both finished eating in silence. When you were done, Namjoon sat back in the couch, letting out a long sigh as one of his hands gently landed on your thigh. You immediately tensed, and his hand slid away, fingers flexing as if they wished they could hold onto you, but knew it was best not to.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, his deep voice surrounding you, echoes reverberating through the fabric of your soul.

Could you tell him? Could you be honest with Kim Namjoon, or would it make him run away?

A scary thought formed in your mind, coming from the dirtiest part of your soul. Would it be better if he ran away?

“A lot,” you admitted, unable to hide the truth from him. “Quite a lot.”

You met his gaze for a few seconds before finding solace in your painting again.

“You know you can talk to me,” he gently said.

“I know.”

But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to have to tell him that this was all too much for you. That it was too quick, that you felt like you were stuck in a train aiming for a wall at top speed.

“I’m sorry,” he said after the silence had stretched so much, you thought it was about to rip the fabric of reality itself.

“What for?” you asked, genuinely wondering.

He leaned his elbows on his knees, pulling at some calluses on his palm that he got from working out without gloves on. “We haven’t really talked about the rumours.”

You hadn’t. Hadn’t even mentioned anything once, preferring to act as if it had never happened. Foolishly, you’d hoped that it would preserve your anonymity, even after it was gone. Even after the first fans stepped foot in your gallery, even after you’d seen articles about you in the press.

“Yeah.”

“Is that what’s on your mind?” he asked, and he turned his head towards you.

From this angle, it was entirely too hard to avoid his gaze. Instead, you latched onto it, hoping it would make everything better.

“It might be,” you said. You sighed, wetting your lips before you added, “It is.”

“How have you been feeling?”

You weren’t sure there was a way to answer the question. Because you didn’t want him to know just how bad the anxiety had gotten, didn’t want him to know that your life changing so much in such a short amount of time was the scariest thing that had ever happened to you.

“Stressed,” you answered, deciding to use a lesser word in the hope that it wouldn’t hurt him too much. “Especially now that the anonymity is gone.”

He nodded. “I was expecting that to happen.”

You cocked an eyebrow, but found yourself unable to say anything else.

“I’m sorry I took that away from you,” he murmured, and a flash of pain in his eyes told you that he really was.

That Kim Namjoon felt guilty when it came to you, more than he had probably ever felt guilty about anything in life.

“You didn’t mean to,” you reassured him. Because it was the truth – you couldn’t be angry at him for what had happened. You had been part of it just as much as him.

“But it’s still my fault,” he added. “It’s because of me if the media has been after you.”

“It’s not because of you.” You paused, searching for the right words to convey the meaning you wanted. “It’s not you as a person, but rather what you mean to the world.”

You slightly winced, convinced that you had somehow landed on the wrong words after all.

“Possibly,” he said. He sighed, before once again sitting back on the couch. His fingers twitched before he clenched them on his thighs, visibly resisting the urge to do something.

To touch you, you assumed.

“Possibly,” he repeated. “But it’s hard to separate the person that I am from the person that I mean to others. To me, it’s just me, both of these.”

You nodded, because you already knew that. Namjoon was authentic through and through, with everything that he did and was. With every single one of his words – he was a cool-minded reflective person, and it was one of the things you liked the most about him. Maybe because it was such a stark contrast from when he was young, blood boiling at any minor inconvenience.

Maybe because it was an anchor in an otherwise stormy life.

“I know,” you said. “And that’s why I don’t believe it’s your fault. You didn’t mean for any of that to happen. And neither did I.”

“Still sucks that it did.”

You’d never heard a truer sentence before. And it was rhetorical, didn’t mean for a reply. All that you could do was nod, gaze escaping from his to find your wriggling fingers in your lap. A new silence stretched between you, still as heavy. Heavier than gravity – was it going to form a black hole between you and him?

“What’s that painting you’ve been working on?” he asked.

You glanced towards the art. Observed the paler backdrop, the painting that you had started in Ilsan. Your anxiety had splashed swirls of darker blue over it, adding melancholy to it that you’d never really visited in your art before.

“Something to get my mind off the edge,” you admitted. “I’ve been trying to pour my thoughts into it. To escape reality for a time.”

Maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Weeks later, you’d look back on this moment and realize that it was the catalyst to the destruction. But right this instant, you couldn’t even think past the words.

“To escape?” he prodded.

You nodded. “Don’t you use music as an escape?”

“Yeah,” he said, but somehow his voice was flat.

It brought your attention back to him, and you noticed his eyes on you. Noticed the grief that your words had instilled behind his pupils, hiding somewhere in the deep brown of his gaze.

“So I assume you must understand.”

He didn’t answer right away. Held your gaze as if time had stopped, and maybe it should have. Maybe time should have been kind to you and him, in its chronology.

“If you need an escape from this,” he said, motioning vaguely between you and him, “maybe we shouldn’t be doing it at all.”

Your heart stopped in your chest, turning cold. Anxiety flooded in, washing away everything that you once were. You felt naked, young, as if you’d gone back in time and were watching him walk away again.

“I never said I needed an escape from us,” you said, and the venom in your voice surprised both you and him.

“Are you happy right now?” he enquired. In a whisper, as if it was the scariest thing. And scary words could never be uttered too loud – wouldn’t they just break everything in their wake?

“I’m not sure.” You saw the flash of hurt on his face, and you quickly rushed to add, “I’m just so anxious.”

“I’ve been making you feel anxious?”

You shook your head. “No. Not you. The situation. The sudden fame. The spotlight and my art being sold at crazy prices. The fact that I have to worry about paparazzi, about what I do or say. It’s so sudden.”

Namjoon didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked at you, gaze heavy with feelings you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Maybe it was understanding – because of course he’d understand what you were going through. He was going through it too, though he’d known this life for years now.

“I’m sorry I brought this to you,” he eventually chose to say, carefully. As if he was aware you were fragile glass right now, one wrong move and you’d explode into a million tiny little shards. “I can take it away easily,” he claimed.

You cocked an eyebrow, because was he offering you salvation? You highly doubted he could.

“How?”

He pursed his lips, features turning apologetic for a time. “We break up. We go our separate ways, I get the rumours off your back. No one’s going to be after you anymore if they think I’m with someone else.”

The loudest sound in the universe was your heartbeat, in that instant. It was so loud even your thoughts became distant little specks, unable to break the wall of sound.

“What?”

He sighed, shrugging. As if he was giving up, as if he’d given up even before he’d gotten here. “If being with me makes you so anxious,” he started. “And by that, I mean not me as a person. What I mean to the world, or whatever it is that you said earlier. If it makes you too anxious, I’m just going to remove myself from the situation.”

Were you stupid, for being unable to reply anything other than ‘what?’ again? Perhaps you were. Especially as he scoffed this time around, and something started aching in your chest, differently than it was before.

“I think it’s better for you if we break up,” Namjoon explained. When you remained silent this time around, he slowly shut his eyes, head hanging low. “I don’t think I could reassure you enough when it comes to your anxiety for us to be able to be together.”

Your heart felt as if it had slowed down in your chest, so much so that the world surrounding you turned silent, soundless. You heard the breath of air that you took in, cringing as it did nothing to ease the slowly rising panic in you.

“I don’t want us to break up,” you said, murmured, though the moment the words crossed the threshold of your lips you realized that perhaps this had been what you were aiming for all along.

“I can’t date someone that gets so anxious just because they’re with me,” he answered, and he looked truly apologetic. Guilty too, as if he had committed the worst crime humanity could witness.

And perhaps breaking a heart truly was the worst crime out there.

It felt unlike Namjoon. You’d gotten the impression that he was someone reliable, someone cool-headed who’d be able to support you, to help you go through your anxiety. But as you stared at him, sitting there on the couch in your studio, you realized that he, too, struggled with his own anxiety. Had probably struggled with a lot of it in the past, so much so that he couldn’t afford to put himself in a situation where he’d only get bad again.

The only solution appeared like a dark cloud looming over the horizon of your conscience. You wished wind could blow it away, wished you were strong enough to manage your anxiety without losing him, but you knew it’d be easier once he was gone. Knew your sleep wouldn’t be as troubled, knew you’d be able to dwindle away into anonymity once more.

You had to let him go. For your sake, mostly, but for his too. Because he deserved someone who could shine with him in his spotlight, someone who’d be able to accept all of him, including his fame. And that just wasn’t you.

“Namjoon…”

“It’s hard for me too, you know?” he added. “To watch the person that I love getting worse every day, knowing that I’m the cause of it. Y/n…” he paused, and this time he was the one to look away. “I haven’t even seen you smile in weeks. Ever since the rumours.” He shook his head. “Even before that. I’m not sure you’ve been happy since we started dating.”

“That’s not true,” you declared, trying to put as much conviction in your words as you possibly could. “I was happy in Ilsan. I was happy when we came back, too. It really is just the sudden fame that’s been throwing me off.”

You were relieved you’d finally found words to explain your anxiety. And somehow, them slowly falling out of your mouth eased the anxiety, eased the fear.

But you knew you were going to let him go.

“Then we take a break,” he continued. “I don’t want to be the source of something negative in someone’s life. We take a break, let the rumours dwindle away, and when it’s safe, we can try again.”

Your eyes blurred with tears. If he saw them, he ignored it, instead focusing on the calluses in his hands again.

“If that is what you want, I’m not going to force you to stay with me,” you said, voice small in the enormity of what was happening.

He scoffed. “What I want is just impossible. This is just second best.”

“Breaking up with me is second best?” you asked, anger and bitterness swirling under the surface of your ache. “It’s that easy for you?”

He frowned, meeting your gaze again. “Who said it was easy?”

“You’re the one that claims it’s a good thing. Second best.”

At that, he rolled his eyes, slowly shaking his head again. “This is not what I meant.”

Maybe your anxiety was winning against you, maybe the knowledge that you had to let him go was stronger than anything else. Because you couldn’t watch him anymore. Couldn’t gaze at his deep brown eyes anymore, knowing that they’d become ghosts in your memory in just a few moments.

A few moments of breaking, of a glass heart dropped to a stone-cold floor.

“Then leave, Joon,” you said, voice unwavering even though you felt like ice was clutching your entire being. “Let’s take this break, let’s see if it’s better for both of us.”

The dark cloud rolled closer, engulfing you. Especially as he didn’t fight more. As he nodded his head, got up and motioned towards the stairs. As if that was enough when he was dropping you, giving up on you.

But weren’t you giving up on him just as much?

That night, you sat cross-legged in front of your canvas, watching the opened paint pots littering the floor around you. When your eyes slid back towards the canvas, a single tear escaped the confines of your eyelids, rolling along your cheek.

Deep brown eyes looked back at you, shining with their own unshed tears, reminders of where you failed in the timeline of your life.

*****

Thirteen years ago

You were going to kill Kim Namjoon. You would kill him, and be happy about it.

You’d heard from a friend of a friend that he had been hanging out with a certain Jeon Yuri, a beautiful, popular girl that had every reason to be liked by a guy like Namjoon. It was understandable – everyone loved Yuri.

Only, Yuri hated you. Always did, and took to insulting you in that covert way of hers that made people think she was complimenting them. But you saw right through her – you knew she was just a conniving rich girl. So you hated her back, with all the hate your little heart could summon.

To think Namjoon was hanging out with her? You’d kill him for it.

So you waited outside the gates of your childhood home for him to show up. You had been waiting there for a while already – partly because you needed to cool off, but also because you wanted to avoid your parents’ questions. Because obviously they loved Namjoon.

Everyone loved Namjoon, and everyone loved Yuri. You knew you were going to hate the both of them.

Namjoon arrived with a smile on his face, dimples flashing as if they’d get you to fold, to forgive him. To be fair, he did not know about your history with Yuri, as you never spoke about it to anyone. But when he saw your features, his smile immediately crumbled, replaced by worry.

“What’s wrong?” he instantly asked as he stopped in front of you.

“What’s wrong?” you repeated, before scoffing. “Why did I have to hear from Kim Haru that you’re hanging out with Jeon Yuri?”

His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with hanging out with her?”

Your eyes widened and your fists landed on your hips. “Everything? She’s just a bitch.”

“Excuse me, what?” Namjoon let out, and you could tell by the reddening of his cheeks that he was already getting worked up too. “You told me to never call a girl a bitch and now you’re doing it?”

You rolled your eyes so far back you thought you could see your brain. “It’s not the same thing.”

He scoffed, in that condescending way of his that he always used when he wanted to win an argument. And you saw red. You saw blood red, scarlet like you were but a bull attracted to a flag.

“Don’t you fucking condescend me right now.”

“Don’t you fucking curse at me.”

“No seriously,” you continued. “I don’t want a guy who’s only after popular girls.”

“I am not,” Namjoon drawled. “I’m tutoring her and Park Seojin in maths. You already knew this.”

As a matter of fact, you did not. “You never told me.”

“Because you never listen to me,” he spat. “You’re always just drawing your fucking drawings as if that’ll lead you anywhere in life.”

“Kim Namjoon!” you burst. “And you’re always just going on about how you want to be a rapper. You’re a kid, dude, stop chasing after pointless dreams.”

He stepped closer to you, towering over you. You stood your ground, crossing your arms on your chest. “You’ll be sorry you ever said that. Oh, you’ll be so fucking sorry.”

“I don’t think I will. I don’t even think I’ll remember you.”

It was a low blow, and you could tell it hit him right in the gut. “You’re breaking up with me over such a stupid thing?”

“I’m breaking up with you because you’re a liar. You said you were with your friends, and then I learn that you were with Jeon Yuri?”

He sighed for a long time, shaking his head in frustration. “Oh, so this is really what it is about? Maybe there’s a reason why I didn’t want to tell you I was tutoring her.”

You scowled. “Why?”

“Because I knew you’d throw a jealousy fit. You think you’re entitled all of my time.”

“Fuck you,” you growled. “Fuck you. I have all the rights to be jealous when my boyfriend hides stuff like that from me.”

“Boyfriend? I thought you broke up with me.”

Your gaze slightly widened. “What?”

“I’m not your boyfriend anymore,” he said, adding your name like it was an insult. “Get over me already.”

“Do you even love me?” you replied, your anger suddenly dying down to be replaced with gut-wrenching pain.

But you knew better than to expect his anger to ever die down. It took forever for Namjoon to calm down, and you feared you had crossed a line tonight.

“Not when you get mad at me for no valid reason.”

His words hit like a slap to the face. “I just don’t like her. Can’t you tutor someone else?”

“No.”

The simple negation brought back a shade of anger to you, and you said, “Then perhaps we really should break up. Maybe I can find someone that actually respects me.”

“Because I don’t respect you?” he said, hands moving around his frame in anger.

“Clearly not.”

“You’re right then,” he continued. “I don’t respect you. I don’t love you either, apparently, so I’m done.”

“Joon…”

“No, Maehwa,” he said, and this time the nickname broke your heart in two, splitting it right in the middle. “You don’t say my name like that.” He slowly shook his head, seething. “As a matter of fact, I don’t want you to ever speak to me again. To ever look at me. I don’t want someone that acts like a fucking child.”

“You act like a child all the time,” you interrupted, but he ignored you.

He ignored you, in favor of turning around to walk away. You watched his back, before taking a step towards him, yelling his name again. He stopped, but didn’t turn to look at you. Instead, he said, “I’ll kill you if you follow me.”

You scoffed. “Oh please, as if you’d ever hurt me.”

“I’m serious, I’ll fucking kill you if I ever see you again.”

It felt enormous, to say such a thing. And perhaps youth was that – enormous in its drama. So you replied, “I hate you more than I hate anything in this world.”

He shrugged his shoulders, and then he walked away.

He walked away into the October night, and your cleaved heart shattered in a million tiny pieces.

☆☆☆☆☆

Read the rest of the fic here bc tumblr sucks and now we can't write posts longer than 1,000 blocks

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kyri45 · 7 days ago

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✨ShadowPeach Bio Parents Bio AU Q&A! 30/12✨

Welcome to the Q&A! A space where I can answer related or similar question about the Shadowpeach Bio Parents AU! If you submitted your ask anonimously, then you’ll have to check the whole post if it’s answered here, if it’s not, worry not! Your asks might have been used for a future comic or just in the queue~

@pandorainabox ha chiesto: Hope this isn't a dumb question,but do you plan to/already are posting the bio parents ah anywhere where it can be viewed all in one piece? With the between posts in tumblr,it gets confusing and I still don't quite know how to navigate it so I was curious if I could binge read it anywhere all in one clean read? (I constantly want to re-read it lmao,it brings me so much joy,its so damn cute!!) Anyway apologies for the random question!! I love your work,you're doing so good and I hope you have an absolutely wonderful rest of your day/night! Thank you so much for taking your time to read and respond if you do so!! 💚💚🌙

i mean… I THINK the masterpost is the easiest way to read it for now (and once you read one chapter you press “NEXT” at the end of it.)

if I would put it, let’s say, on Webtoon (which I can’t) it kind of would be the same thing. A list if chapters, when you click on one it opens the chapter with the 10-20 panels and then you click the “next” to go to the next one.

i don’t think putting all chapters from one part would be nice since it would be a super duper long list of panels (and the page would take a lot to load with so many medias) and one Part of the comic contains multiple arcs.

i’m open to suggestions though!

@robinpika ha chiesto: I was just wondering why is wukong kaiju form unstable? What inspired you to go that route

it was an headcanon of my of why we never see it in the show, even though it is present in JTTW AND war forms are… well normal in LMK, so I figured he must have a reason why he didn’t use it, considering it could have spare them a lot of trouble giving its power.

@imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: I can't find the option to ask anonymously oof— Enyway this is Tumblr and that's what I'm here for. Ever made a design for a Red son and MK kid? From your AU I mean (ignoring every nature law for a second). Also, where did you got that name for MK from? Is something from Jurney to the west? Mainly thanks to your AU I am going to try and read that book (has more them a 1000 pages :') )

we all subconsciously agreed that the spicynoodle lovechild is Kai from lego ninjago and MK real name is his name in the chinese dub.

@avencaeheng ha chiesto: Can you reccomend any websites to watch lmk? 🙏

You can find MOST of the episodes on youtube. BUT you need also the specials to understand the story. If I link you a site in 2 weeks it will be down. The best is that you join the Lego Monkie Kid Fanspace discord. They have links to see the show and they update them every once in a while.

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: Another silly headcanon <3 Since MK unlocked he’s monkey form he started teething like a baby monkey but… adult. I don’t know how baby monkey teethe but when dogs teethe they get a lot more bite-y and the bites hurt a lot more than before teething. I can imagineMK getting a lot more bitey with things, like chewing food longer then needed be and maybe when he’s play fighting with the baby monkeys he bites one and it chirps and Wukong is like: ! One of my children is in need! And he discovers MK is teething and does something idk yet. After having given my evidence… Do you think this would happen? Does MK have fangs in his human form like how some people draw him?

hi! I guess he did have a period in which he had a little teething.

no, his human form doesn’t have fangs, because his human form is just a kind of glamour/shapeshift. In the AU the monkey form became his normal form (since it always has been his original form to begin with)

toomanylegos ha chiesto: Hey, I just want to say I absolutely adore your ShadowPeach comic and the beautiful art with it. I went through nasal surgery on the 19th, and seeing an update from you really helped soothe my nerves about it, so thank you! I can't wait to see more updates throughout my recovery :D burry-penguin ha chiesto: As a spicynoodle shipper I love your work sm and what ur doing for this community KEEPING US FEED FOR DAYSSS!! 🔥🍜 🔥🍜 You’re so amazing and keep doing what you’re doing because you’re a damn good story teller and artist. You’ll go so far someday! You’ve helped put a smile on my face on my best and worst days just from seeing each new update and going absolutely fuckin feral over it and I thank you for that 🫶 imafluffycupcakey ha chiesto: Not really a ask. I would just like to say I inhaled your AU comic like a vacum cleaner in less them a day, also big fan of the art style. Anonimo ha chiesto: I'm recovering from a toxic relationship and the shadowpeach bio parents au is helping me think through everything ,, The love these monkies show me how relationships are supposed to make you feel good... thank u

turtlewearingclothes ha chiesto: Howdy! I just wanted to say thank you for making your amazing comic, and being the reason I got into Lego Monkie Kid. I've heard of the show, but I never watched it. Then I came across your comic like, 2-3 weeks ago? And after binging it, I decided to watch the show, and now I'm obsessed lol. Thank you!

AWWWW THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE LOVE!!!♥️♥️♥️

@selfdestructivecat ha chiesto: Hey so I recently binged your LMK comic because I absolutely fell in love with your ISAT x COTL comic and knew anything you made would be amazing. I’ve never seen LMK though so I’m sure I lost some of the context (it was still so good though, I’m really rooting for everything to work out for the characters!) But I decided to give the actual series a try because of the comic! And here was where I planned on writing you a message after a few episodes to thank you for getting me into a new series, but… I’m on episode one. I only watched the intro. Dude. IM ABSOLUTELY HOOKED. THE ANIMATION! THE STYLE! THE CHARACTERS! I’m so so excited to watch more (which I’m gonna do now!) but thank you so much for bringing this series to my attention!!!

ahaha welcome to the club!, now you can enjoy both comics!

@therivergirl ha chiesto: I remember back in the beggining of eclipse arc you mentioned that Mac feels insecure about his body being part of the reason he's hesitant to take of his clothes even in front of Wukong and it being part of the reason (aside from basic decency) that Wukong looked away. And now in this part Mac appears butt-naked to help Wukong out, adding yet another layer of vulnerability...gah! (Maybe I should finally watch LMK because I feel I would be doubly obsessed with this comic then...)

For Mac being exposed was the last of his issues considering that what he was seeing was Wukong at his lowest and most naked. Now excuse me while I cry.

@astro-lmk-enjoyer ha chiesto: You probably know Chang’E’s story from LMK, but did you know there is a second version of her story that I like better? In the second version Chang’E and her husband(I forgot his name), are getting used to living as mortals after being kicked out of heaven. But someone hears of the immortal elixir they have and try to steel it while Chang’E’s husband is out hunting. After getting beat up a bit she decides to drink the elixir so the robber couldn’t get it. But she instead went to the moon so she could be closer to her lover. Her husband dies because he’s still mortal, and Chang’E is left be herself. I have silly little headcanon the day MK and the others went to the moon was her and her husband’s anniversary 🙃 Bye <3

AH. OK.

Anonimo ha chiesto: Do you think that wukong and macaque act like cats?

as in they would purr? I moslty think Wukong wants to cuddle and stroke his head on Mac neck like a cat, while Mac is that one cat that sometime is annoyed when people touch him but eventually let them do it.

Anonimo ha chiesto: ✨Hear me out :3✨ MK can hear the past. He heard the fight of of prentice and held his eye like he was getting hurt by Wukong and not Macaque. So now picture this: MK has a vision again, his this time it is about how the monk used the circlet on him :3

AHAH. NOW HE CAN’T SEE TANG THE SAME WAY AGAIN. FUCK.

Anonimo ha chiesto: When I first found your comic in your TikTok account, I thought it was something very silly... How very VERY wrong I was.(As I get shot 57 times.) I hope you are taking very good care of yourself because when I downloaded Tumblr to keep myself updated to your comics(which was somewhere around 13-16 December probably) there are a LOT of panels. I enjoyed the newest and most recent parts of the shadowpeach bio parent au and can't wait for the next!!! Don't work yourself to the bone too much! Remember to take mental and physical breaks.

AGHDMHSMFYS THANK YOU!!!

Anonimo ha chiesto: Are there others who flirt with MK ? He looks good, is very powerful and has a sunshine personality. I bet there are others who are interested in him

I guess there haven’t been any for NOW.

Anonimo ha chiesto: After reading the post about swk's circlet, I srsly want him to look at mk and say "oh, hey we're matching!" ... "OH SHIT WHY ARE WE'RE MATCHING?!"

NOOOOOO!!

@delightfulcupquakequeen ha chiesto: Hey there!!! Been awhile sincenI've written an ask, just wanted to send love and being greatful that you are doig this amazing AU!!!! Appreciating ever pannel you make and gosh dammit hitting me right in the korokoro!!!! Keep being your fabulous self!!! Until next time!

THANK YOUUUUU

@l1br4rycrypt1d ha chiesto: Feel free to ignore this if it's spoilers for the comic, but are we gonna get to see the Gold Star of Venus? Just curious, since you reblogged the meme post that mentioned him during the takeover

There will be a small space for them as well, yes.

@kaothedemon ha chiesto: Fun fact, while I doubt Pigsy has all of Zhu Bajie's powers, his ancestor did have a kaiju form, which he could use if he ate a fuckton I'm sure it's not gonna appear in the story, but the idea of Heaven having to deal with 3 Kaiju dads (+ theoretically a sworn uncle) is extremely funny to me (picture courtesy of OSP's latest JTTW episode cause even when I read the book there weren't any illustrations of this)

I SAW THAT!! Man now they must add it to the show. Yeah I don't think he has ALL of Zhu Bajie's powers (I don't think he would ever want to have them) but it would be interesting if it was a high stake situation

@roseltelle ha chiesto: I think Macaque would actually enjoy working/ volunteering at the playhouse specifically doing shadow plays. But he does regular plays as well. His favorite days are when classes of children come in for field trips. Wukong often paints the backdrops, scenery, and other items for plays. They both enjoy their hobbies.

Awwwww yeah I think Macaque would totally love that.

@lmk4ever ha chiesto: Can you imagine Wukong just being out of it after he distracted the celestials for too long in his war form?

I think that as soon as he sees Macaque again he immediately switch back and become behaved again.

@peach-fury ha chiesto: I think I know the answer but theoretically... Who's war form/kajiu is stronger Wukongs or Macaque's and how would it go? I don't know it started as a thought. Now I can't stop laughing.

Wukong's is stronger.

blbllblblblll ha chiesto: do you know the pronunciation of xiaotian? ive been stuck on how to say his name for so long 😭

I know that the "Qi" is pronunced "Chi" and I think "xiao" is pronunced the same as you would read it, while I THINK the "t" in "tian" is more of a mix between a t and a c/k? I aint chinese and the way I pronounce things or read them is probably different from u cause I'm italian.

eerieqloss ha chiesto: Okay question, is Wukong's war form bigger/taller than MK's?

it's taller.

@elliboom ha chiesto: I was wondering, will Erlang Shen ever appear in the Shadowpeach parent series? (And questa domanda la scrivo in italiano giusto per levarmi un’altra curiosità in futuro, preferisci che le domande vengono scritte solo in inglese o vanno bene anche in italiano? So che non ci sono molti italiani ad essere fan di LMK e JTTW, posso capire la scelta di scriverli solo in inglese per rispetto e far capire ai altri fan, e generalmente per scrivere le domande uso google translate, perché faccio pena con la grammatica inglese, mi scuso se in futuro farò domande con qualche errore 🥲🥲)

Si apparirà. Manda pure in italiano shalla ahah.

#ask box #shadowpeach bio parents au

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alvfr · 5 months ago

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you asked for it! im forcing you!

how about a scenario on that particular AU you have cooking around? between nightwing and a spiderperson that is marooned in the black and white gotham city

we love to see it

posting this like you haven't already read all of it >.< a/n: the funniest jokes are princess-marida's and she is a blessed saint that endures my long ramblings about wips, including this one. i know it says a scenario, but this turned into a longer project (shocker) so here's the first part of chapter 1 (eventual) paring: dick grayson/reader rating: m (swearing)/sfw cw: spider-woman!reader who never stops talking, no use of y/n, superhero violence summary: for years, you have been the one and only Spider-Woman of your world. However, after being recruited to the multiversal Spider-Society, you learn that there's a version of you in every other universe too.At least that's what you thought until something goes wrong and you end up in a world with plenty of superheroes, but no Spider-Man. You're stranded, alone and glitching. You need to find this world's Spider-Man and restore your link to the Spider-Verse before you disintegrate completely - easier said than done with both a local detective and a hot vigilante on your tail.

Out of the Spider-Verse (and into Gotham)

All right, guys. Let’s start at the beginning one last time.

Your name is definitely not Peter Parker, but you were bitten by a radioactive spider, and for the last few years, you’ve been the one and only Spider-Woman. At least, you thought you were until another Spider-Woman showed up to recruit you to the multiversal Spider-Society and you realized you were one of many, many, many Spider-things from all kinds of universes. It was a sweet gig, getting you out and about some, meeting new people, doing team-ups and group work, and your leader was a decent enough guy. A little intense. Borderline scary. Easy on the eyes though. Really easy on the eyes.

And one day, you’re hanging out at the headquarters minding your own business, totally not gossipping about boss-man, when the order comes to capture one of your fellow Spider-Men. Next thing you know, you’re caught up in the whirlwind of Spider-Beings chasing after someone called Miles Morales, and somehow, in the chaos, you slip.

A fluke, really. You never slip. You’re Spider-Woman! You literally stick to walls and ceilings, and somehow, you lost your footing and took a tumble into darkness.

Real darkness. Where bright flashing lights and psychedelic colors had accompanied you all the other times you hopped through dimensions, this time, you fell into a black pit of nothing. Reflexes had you shooting out webs, desperate to get an anchor point. They disappeared into the void with an embarrassing swish, and you did not even have time to scream before you smacked into something undeniably solid.

Concrete, probably, based on the cloud of debris and dust that rained over you as your body dug several feet into it, knocking every cubic inch of air from your lungs with an oof. Yup, you determined as you lifted your now gray arms to study them. Definitely concrete. You dropped your head back into the rubble and made a face under your mask. Concrete dust was a real bitch to get out of the suit, and you would be forced to cosplay as whitewashed Noir Spider-Man until you could get it dry-cleaned.

Read more on AO3

#dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #batman fanfiction #spider verse fanfiction #out of the spider-verse #my writing #asks #requested #requests open #how do i tag this so i can find it later #ao3

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nauticaltrain · 14 days ago

Note

your themed slang for stex you did in that one post is really interesting could you elaborate on them?

oof yes i love themed slang so much (og post here)

Train slang is not super complex, merely a blending of regular old human culture, real railroad slang, and their own esoteric references. Most rolling stock have a remarkable skillfulness in the art of arguing, and will talk shit to hell and back. As a result, their vernacular is increasingly creative in an effort to really get their points across.

Some examples (including the ones in that post and some more!)

Dries my crown - a steamer saying, referencing the crown sheet that covers the top of the firebox. The crown must have a layer of water on top of it at all times to prevent damage to boiler, and potential implosion. So, saying that something "dries my crown", means it's really irritating to the point of outrage

Keep your tender on - calm down, relax. Another steamer saying

Blow it out your stack - fuck off and leave me alone. Started as a steamer thing and has gradually shifted over to the diesels as a derogative

Chassis - A chassis is the load bearing framework of rolling stock (and many other pieces of machinery). In the context of train slang, it's vaguely sexual? They're about as anatomically correct as barbie dolls and have a limited understanding of sexuality. But that doesn't mean the counterfeit replication of the human mind that makes up the rolling stock psyche can't catcall and talk dirty!

Pumps my pistons - see above

Get out of my cab and it's variations - stop micromanaging me!

Tarblood/coaleater/crummy/hog/scrap/tea kettle/etc. - slurs and name calling. Trains love to insult each other

Rumble - a human term that was co-opted by the rolling stock. Someone is gonna throw down and it's gonna be a big event, let's go watch two idiots beat each other up. Usually references altercations between engines

Less than a hundred miles under you - you're a newbie, you don't have a lot of experience

Wheelslip - In real railroading, wheelslip is a phenomenon where if too much force is applied to the wheels and there is not enough friction, the wheels will turn without there being movement of the train. In train slang, it's the equivalent of saying "butterfingers" when someone drops something or "you good?" when someone trips

Ticking over - not really slang, but more of cultural thing. On a real engine, ticking over is idling. In the musical, tickovers are the set of movements each character does when they're not doing anything specific (Rusty's little arm rotations, CB's salute, Greaseball combing back his hair). In the context of my weird psychological automaton au, it's a visual representation of them processing information. Train stimming, basically.

Oh also, they have a non-verbal sub-language in train form (if one subscribes to the transformers-esque headcanon), which includes brake clenching, whistle/horn variations, metal creaks, and light signals!

#i could talk about train culture all the live long day #ask #anonymous #starlight express #stex #factoanthropology

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kiss4noo · 5 months ago

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his palette – n.rk

꒰ 🎨 ꒱ A NISHIMURA RIKI [니키] ONESHOT!

genre. soulmate au, fluffy fluffy fluff! .˚⊹ pairing. non-idol,,artsy ni-ki x artsy fem reader. ໒꒱ warning(s). bumping into each other cliche meets classmates 2 lovers. word ct. 869

synopsis .ᐟ in which people see the world in shades of black & white until making contact with their soulmate.

꒰ 💬 ꒱ mi note. remember, this is a work of fiction. i did not proofread, so please excuse any mistakes.

if you enjoyed this fic, please like and reblog! it's always appreciated :)

enjoy, my lovely readers. xoxo, mi. ‹𝟹

NISHIMURA RIKI was the quiet, loner type at decelis high, considering the fact that his best friends were all upperclassmen that had since graduated. he often sat by himself during lunch period, headphones on blast as he drew in his small sketchbook. his art was beautiful to anyone who had the privilege to see, yet it lacked one element; color.

the boy greatly envied those who had gained their palette, straight from the source of interacting with their soulmate; to which he had yet to meet. at least that’s what he believed, since he’d never came in physical contact with them.

currently, he was sat beneath a tree in the courtyard, hoping to sketch the scenery of campus, humming along to a track playing in his ears. his legs were entirely outstretched, laid before him as he used his thighs as a surface to draw upon.

a figure, obviously in a rush, had approached with hurried steps through the grass, tripping over his limbs with a soft ‘oof’. glancing up in surprise, riki’s gaze met the back of your kneeling figure. he recognized you immediately, as you shared multiple art classes throughout the years, and many labeled you as the campus sweetheart.

but…

wait, your outfit was a different sprawl of hues from the generic blacks and whites that he could see. in fact, his view was anything but grayscale. he assumed that you’d realized the same, your head tilting a few degrees in curiosity as you stared at the green grass beneath your palms.

pulling himself from the initial shock, the boy removed his headphones, placing them and his sketchbook aside to help you gather what had fallen from your grasp, knelt beside you.

“are you okay, y/n?” the boy questioned, his fingertips grazing yours as you’d reached for the item. when your eyes met his, he felt the air leave his lungs, your features far more angelic than people had described. his sight was one that people would’ve fought for, and yet he had the privilege to witness you in such beautiful color. your expression mirrored his, the honey of his skin, the blush of his lips– it was an exquisite change, leaving you in awe.

“y/n?” his voice drew you from the daze of his beauty, causing your eyes to flutter in rapid blinks that showcased your nerves.

��s–sorry, riki.” you murmur, reaching to take your sketchbook from his hands, only for him to pull it back. leaning your upper half forward, you found yourself a mere few inches from him– your breath mingling with his.

“y/n.” riki called with a low tone, causing you to gulp, averting your gaze. his fingers reached up, gently caressing your chin as he turned your head to meet his eyes.

“why were you in such a rush, bunny?” he questions, his brows furrowing in worry of any possible injury you may have gotten. flustered by the pet name, your cheeks flushed an adorable shade of pink, catching his interest as he waited patiently for a response.

“well.. well i wanted to..” you begin, stumbling over your words in embarrassment. you were actually on the search for him, hoping to find a vantage point in which you could draw him for the day. your fingers reached to grasp at the sketchbook, your name sprawled across the front; only for riki to cheekily grin at you.

“what’s in here, hm?” he questions with a playful wiggle of his brows, glancing down at the sketchbook to flip the front page.

“w–wait!” you attempted to protest, only for his lips to part in surprise, having found a drawing of… himself?

“y/n…” he whispers in disbelief, his eyes casting between the drawing and you, his gaze landing on the paper once more. his fingers gently flipped through the pages, finding a multitude of sketches you’d made of him; most of them during lunch period, where he peacefully sat alone.

“oh, pretty...” he murmurs, folding the sketchbook shut before placing it aside, practically tugging you onto his lap. “stop admiring from afar.” he mutters, pressing gentle kisses against your cheeks, to which your skin flushes even further. he was honored to have been the apple of your eye, as you were his.

after all, his staring sessions during class were rather obvious to everyone but you.

“riki!” you squeal in shyness, hands pressed against his chest as he lovingly smothers you.

“see, it's a sign that you should’ve joined me all along, baby.” he coos, glancing up at the sky and pointing with his index finger; the colors sprawled across your vision as you turned your head.

“not only can you see colors, but you have me to grace your presence.” he grins at you, ticking your sides as a giggle falls past your lips, your gaze returning to his.

“oh, yippie!” you sarcastically respond with a playful smile, earning a gasp of feign hurt from the boy; to which you place a gentle kiss to his lips.

now it was his turn to be flustered, your action catching him off guard before he pulled you in once again, your smiles meshing as you expressed your affection, no longer hidden.

꒰ 📎 ꒱ taglist. @greentulip @nshmuras @wonsdoll

how to be added to my taglist : click here!

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kittysimp-daycareauart · 2 months ago

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Thought I’ll post some WIP stuff since, well, I haven’t actually posted in like a week or somethin’… So here!

Blood moon twins because yes, I guess. I started this one like a month ago, but I’m really getting to it now, lol. (TSaMS) ⬆️

I started this one a while ago too. Actually the around the same time I posted that angst piece about Ruin after the episode about his past happened. Still wanna beat Nexus for that one, no touchie the cute British boy! Lol. (TSaMS) ⬆️

This is meant to be a little wallpaper for the flip phone 5. I have that specific phone so I’m basically drawing this mostly for myself, and I’m gonna post for anyone else who wants to use it for their phone, or just snatch it because they like it in general. (Not TSaMS, just *a* Sun) ⬆️

I love Sun X Moon, this is a piece dedicated to that. Look at them be wholesome and cute! Also, yes, I adore The Sun and Moon Show and I would say I’m a big fan, but Sun X Moon. So just everyone is aware, when I make this ship it is NOT Sun and Moon Show related, and I will make that bluntly clear. They are *brothers* in the show, so that would be gross. (Obviously NOT TSaMS) ⬆️

This is a God AU of mine based, mostly, on EPIC : The Musical. In this AU, Sun and Moon are not brothers, but instead romantic partners. Also, I was kinda of inspired by the song "The Moon Will Sing" by The Crane Wives for a lot of their dynamic. If you know that song, then you should be able to tell that these two are wholesome little husbands who absolutely adore each other. I definitely want to actually make stuff for this AU when I have fleshed out the story more. (My God AU) ⬆️

‘Anyway, that’s all I have for now. Well, with the stuff I want to certainly work on. I have so many more WIP pieces, it’s not funny. This is what happens when you think of too many ideas and don’t have enough time to do them all, nor motivation! Oof. Well it’s 12:48 for me. I should get to bed for real before I don’t want to wake up tomorrow for school. Goodnight! (Or good- whatever time you’re seeing this)

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nectardaddy · 7 months ago

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falling - inumaki toge

cw: language, drinking, drinking in anxious situations, drunkenness, allusion to bickering/arguing, really cheesy flirting lol

notes: written with fem in mind (no pronouns used though), ex inumaki, non-curse au (we got him speaking lads!!), giving college au vibes, request by @inumakisser I changed a few things up though oof, I also just kinda gave up on editing at the end so if you see mistakes in the last couple of paragraphs no you didn't

"Is that who I think it is?"

Turning your attention towards the feminine voice, you raised a brow to the red head next to you. Rolling her eyes as she saw you look to her instead, she motioned towards the figure adjacent to the doorway. "Yuuji- you didn't," she warned.

"Ah fuck," the man began, groaning as he sat back in his chair further. "I always invite him," he began lowly, earning a sharp smack to his head from the woman next to you. Letting out a yelp, and holding his head, and tried to defend himself. "He's never shown up before! How was I supposed to know this time was different?" Another smack, "ouch! Jesus, Nobara! Okkotsu probably forced him out, not me!"

Tracking their gaze, your heart sank to your stomach to the figure that stood adjacent to the doorway. Platinum hair and stark violet eyes catching your attention, you suddenly felt incredibly small. "I need another drink," you suggested to the pair, desperately trying to shy away from your own emotions.

The red head let a chuckle pass her lips before rising from her seat, offering her hand out to you as she did. "Forget the drink, let's get you a shot!" Smiling at you through her words, "hell, get drunk and find a whole other guy - forget about him." Her words earned a cheer from Yuuji, but you contemplated leaving the party all together.

It was easy to say forget, but once put into motion was incredibly difficult. It had been three months since you had even seen the man, whisking himself away as if it were too easy. Leaving your heart in shambles, a rather nasty break, that Toge seemed all too comfortable with. He never texted, never called; while you yearned on late nights to do only that. It was as if you were a complete stranger again - a stranger that still, after all this time, had feelings for him.

"Fuck it," you shrugged and cast your eyes upward to the woman. "Let's get drunk," you announced with a chuckle, finally deciding to take her hand.

As the night continued on, as did your growing intoxication. The effects of the shots and drinks Nobara, relentlessly, handed you, hit you in your now swimming mind. Your eyes were blurry and your skin felt scorched, the sticky, humid air around you clinging to you. It was, supposedly, a small party; the people that drunkenly lined the walls and danced amongst the living room proved otherwise. It made the room inconceivably warm, too many people in such a small area.

Nobara was no where to be found, gone off with Maki earlier and hadn't yet returned. Yuuji on the otherhand, sustained his presence with you, a cheerful smile the entire time. However, the poor soul hadn't found his tolerance for alcohol, finding himself draped across a couch at his own party, completely out cold. With a sigh, and another sip of the liquid what only further made you woozy, you leaned against the wall.

"I'm surprised you're here. You always hated parties," a lower voice next to you catching your attention. Turning, much to your dismay, you saw the only man you fervently did not wish to speak to. Slender fingers wrapping around a bottle, and violet eyes looking you over. You wished you had felt more anger in the moment; something, anything, other than the void of emotion. Too drunk to care, but too drunk not to say something.

"Says the guy who never went to them," you quipped. "A shut in can't critique a wallflower." You couldn't hide your obvious intoxication, booze hindering your speech to slow, methodical statements rather than sly, quick witted, remarks. Part of you wanted to step away right then and there, the other desperately craving any conversation the man would allow.

"Yikes," he grimaced, now placing himself next to you. A foot of distance between the two of you didn't feel like enough, truly you wanted him as far away as possible. "I'll give you that one," he spoke, tipping the bottle to his lips before sighing. "How have you been?"

"Did you really come over here to ask that, Inumaki?" You asked, taking a small breath and letting out through your mouth. The huff of air, and use of his last name, caused him to recoil subtlety, internally regretting his own decision to come speak to you. The conversation, or lack there of, gave you a sense of panic. Not knowing what he wanted, as it surely had to be something, you took a large sip of the contents in your cup.

He watched as you tipped the cup back, taking down the liquid as if it were your lifeline in the moment. He knew better than to speak to it; he couldn't tease or poke fun anymore, knowing it might very well lead to a slap in the face. So he sucked in a breath through his teeth, swallowed his pride, and faced his reality. Toge wanted nothing more than to talk to you again, craving it so deeply it itched. But he could never find the right words, how could he possibly when things ended so terribly? "I'm regretting it now," he mumbled.

You only managed to let a hum pass your lips, biting the side of your cheek as to not let anything further slip. You wanted to tear into him, rip him piece by piece with your words - just like old times. But now you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of merely pissing you off. Without a second thought you tipped your cup to your lips once more. Sipping the drink, the tangy taste of shitty fruit punch and liquor invaded your senses.

He noticed as you blinked hard from the taste, watching you teeter from foot to foot to keep yourself stable, and knew your words were sluggish and off. "Jeez- you're fucking trashed, aren't you?" He asked, genuinely not meaning for the words to leave so harshly. "You ok?"

"You're caring now?" You proded, your words biting a bit harder than you first imagined. "I didn't know you knew how to do that. Why's it matter anyway?" You shrugged, looking over to him with blurred vision.

"I've always cared," he retorted. "Don't be such a-"

There was a moment of pause between the two of you, a heavy silence hitting you both from the weight of the words, or lack thereof. He desperately wanted to back track the conversation, to take all of his sly remarks back - too late now. He knew it was too late as he heard a laugh pass your lips, a pained chuckle forcing its way out from his words. "Bitch?" You asked rhetorically, "go ahead and say it. Didn't stop you before."

"Alright, alright" he began before taking a small breath. "There's a lot of things I shouldn't have done," he admitted begrudgingly. "But that's a conversation to have when you're not piss drunk." Albeit, he didn't want to have the conversation at all. The feelings that prickled inside from having to admit his wrong doings made him wretch, add alcohol to the mix and he wanted to vomit right then and there.

"I can't believe I actually missed you," a drunken slip of the tongue, the statement so casually leaving your lips. Realizing immediately what you had uttered, you closed your eyes and groaned. You wanted to regret saying it, but the gentle nag at your heart said differently. Completely blitzed, you couldn't find a single care in the world left on what you said. "Seems stupid admitting it out loud," you chuckled, a silly, alcohol induced, smile on your lips.

He felt his shoulders slump at your statement, realizing you didn't feel much different than he. Two idiots still hopelessly attached to each other despite such a murky break; a classic situation of 'right person, incredibly wrong time.' While he wasn't inebrietated, the bottle in his hands warm as he held onto it throughout the night, he felt his mind scatter at the thought. "It's not stupid," speaking as he shook his head. "You always were a sap," he added, a smirk daring to grace his lips. He toed the line gently, testing waters to see if he dared tease you once more.

"What does that make you?" You asked, deciding against your better judgement to play along. But he made it so easy, so comfortable, an aura so warm and inviting he made it hard to stray away from - ex lover or not.

"A god damn moron for letting you go," he spoke with a small chuckle. But he was far from comedic with the sentiment. He missed you whether he liked it or not, an urge so deep down in his soul he simply couldn't ignore it. He often found himself wanting to call, to text, to simply do something; he second guessed himself often. He didn't want to be that guy, more often than not believing he would make matters worse if he were to speak to you.

"Oh-" you snorted, "that was smooth I'll give you that." Your musings made him chuckle in response, leaning against the wall next to you and feeling a bit less on edge. "I still miss you, y'know?" Liquid luck was the only reason you allowed yourself to say such things, sobriety would have you double down and wholeheartedly deny as such. "Dumbass," you added with a small, genuine smile.

"Yeah?" He asked rhetorically, a playful smile pulling at his lips. "This is a first. You compliment my pickup lines and you say you miss me?" His teasing tone returned, one of which he thought he could never have again with you. He would be lying if he said it didn't make his heart swell.

"I can take it back, Toge," you quipped, and to his words you tried to nudge him, but you drunkenly misjudged his distance from you. Although he wasn't far from you, the distance was enough that your body weight started to fall from the lack of contact with him. He quickly grabbed your arm to center you, but couldn't help himself as a loud laugh passed his lips.

"The jokes write themselves!" He spoke between laughs, "looks like you're falling for me again," he noted between giggles. He watched as you shot him a mischievous glare, resulting in him only laughing more. "Oh come on, I never stopped falling for you," he admitted with a smile. "Was only a matter of time before you did it too."

might make a part 2?? idk but I really enjoyed writing this!!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #inumaki toge #toge inumaki #inumaki toge x reader #toge inumaki x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #inumaki x reader #inumaki fluff #jjk fluff #non curse au #college au #I really enjoyed writing this #despite how long it took me to actually write it #also I can actually write a lot??#I usually write drabbles but look at me go damn

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notherpuppet · 5 months ago

Note

Hey, man. How are you?

Any updates on the upcoming comics and what can we expect?

Hey, man. I'm good!

I guess I've got updates for anyone who is looking for some! I'm starting grad school next week and with the start of the school year, I will be working again. Two different jobs wahhhh. So you can probably expect me to not post as much as I have for these past months. (I just have no idea how much time I'll be able to allot to this hobby! But I really hope I can play in the universe as much as possible).

Even if I end up posting less, I have totally accepted that I'm in a long-term relationship with Hazbin Hotel, especially given that we're getting so many seasons and animation takes A LOT OF TIME. So I plan to be here with y'all the whole time hahaha.

I have SO MANY WIPs, so whenever I get the chance to draw them, I'll be working on those and posting them :) Just as usual, the schedule for comics or fanart is whenever I post it lol. Some comics/fanart that's all cooking right now includes: 🍳 -Hazbin Hotel filler 🏨: Comics and fanart that focuses on Alpha Universe's characters and/or things that I think could have possibly happened in congruence with canon. I like drawing demons. -My Deer Nanny AU 👨🏽👱🏻‍♂️👧🏼👪: More chapters, but nothing as long as Let's Dance so far. Mostly day-to-day insights into Alastor, Lucifer, and Charlie's lives in that universe. Lots of moments to see how Alastor and Lucifer's relationship continues to develop as they continue living together. Even though the chapters are much shorter, there's A LOT more of them. Like, I think I've already drafted 50 more pages oof. -Guardian Angel AU 👼🏼🩸: This AU is a Radioapple and Chaggie AU, where I want to focus on both of those relationships simultaneously in the story. So, expect more comics in this AU! -Devil Lucifer/Human Alastor AU (Title: Deux Démons) 😈👿: I just started making ideas for this AU, but more keep coming, so I think I may have some more radioapple dynamics in this sense. This one is a much more ludicrous shipping scenario than the others I think haha. -Vaggie Fanfic🎀🪽 : I did write a Vaggie focused fanfic when I was slacking off at work the other day. But it's PROSE, which is so crazy to me. I'm not much of a writer in that medium, so it's not very long. I just have one artwork that I'm pairing with that fanfiction and I will probably post it this week. Thanks for following me! Always excited to share the fanart I make for this show I'm deeply obsessed with :)

#answers #what's to expect from lil ole mare #a giant hazbin otaku #and old man yaoi fujoshi #dedicated to yuri propaganda #vaggie stan #alastor stan

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mae-gi-writes · 2 months ago

Text

sweet like nectar | hyunjae . theboyz | (1)

"Run, run, baby, where I go? Closer and closer to you I'm addicted, I'm addicted to you" - NECTAR, THE BOYZ

In which you and Hyunjae only have 24 hours to enjoy life before it's time to grow up and go your separate ways.

Genre: fluff, a bit of angst, slowburn! teasing!Hyunjae. friend!Hyunjae, friends-to-lovers, idiots-to-lovers au. ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

------- part one | part two -------

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Anything you wanna say?"

You were tired. Every muscle in your system was screaming at you to lie down and get some rest. But the doe-eyed boy before you, it seemed, had other ideas. He gazed down at you unblinkingly, that same teasing smile playing across his lips as he sat, cross-legged, in your room waiting for you to give him an answer that would satisfy him.

It was the last day of university -- your very last lecture had concluded an hour ago -- and you had already packed your bags to head back home. London was beautiful and mesmerizing, but with that beauty came the struggle to get a job, meaning that you had no other choice but to return back to your homeland while your visa would hopefully renew itself. That, or a company would sponsor you.

The latter seemed probably impossible. Not when there were so many other willing candidates with so much better grades than you did.

Which was why your friend Hyunjae was taking it upon himself to act as your makeshift guardian as of right now, having helped you pack your bags for the last two days and ensuring that the rest of your things would be delivered at his flat. He'd keep them for now, was what he'd stated when you protested you'd just be cluttering up his space.

"It's fine," he'd waved away your worries, "as long as I can sell them, right?" and had winked at you, causing you to roll your eyes and huff at the stupidity.

Hyunjae had been friends with you since the start of your freshman year, courtesy of his dorm room being right next to yours. And so due to the fact that your roomate back then had been an unlivable nightmare -- always eating junk food and tossing its wrappers and cardboard takeaways on your side of the room, never doing her laundry and staying up so late you barely managed to sleep -- you'd automatically sought out Hyunjae's room, considering that his roommate was never there. It was the only saving grace from first year, the blessing in disguise that had brought you a friend so special you wouldn't have known how to navigate university if not for him.

And now, in less than twenty-four hours, you were parting ways. Maybe for a week. A month. For good?

You really didn't hope so.

"Do we really have to do this?" you whined as you allowed your spine to rest against the corner of your bed, legs splaying out before you as you watched the sunlight stream through your windows and flicker along Hyunjae's hair.

It cast him in a golden glow, almost making him look ethereal.

Life was unfair. Why was he this pretty? You'd never understand that logic.

"Yes we do," he said firmly, "now come on. You have one chance to let it all out--" he threw his arms out by his sides dramatically, "--before you close this chapter of your university life--OOF!"

His words were interrupted by a pillow -- namely your pillow -- hitting him straight int he face. Hyunjae choked on his breath, falling to the floor and wailing as dramatically as a newborn baby, "man down!" he yelled, "man down! I'm hurt! I'm injured--"

"Shut up Hyun," you rolled your eyes, "stop being so dramatic. Is the driver here yet?"

At your words, Hyunjae stilled beneath the gigantic pillow and mumbled through it, "you're no fun, Y/N. I'm just trying to make your last days as memorable as possible and here you are--rainining on my parade."

"You have no parade going on, hotshot."

Hyunjae growled at you, "and you're no fun."

Giggling and reaching over to pry the pillow from his face, you were greeted with the sight of him, all disheveled and grinning up at you as he pushed himself upright, "so, it's your last day here. What shall we do?"

"Don't you have things to do? I thought you had a shift today."

"I did," Hyunjae held up his phone in triumph, "not anymore. I switched with Kevin."

"I could've accompanied you to your shift."

"And do what? Stare at me serve tables?" then, his lips pulled into a smirk, "actually, I think that's a great idea, you staring me down and appreciatng my--"

You slapped his shoulder and the young man whined in pain, "stop it, you're so not funny. And I was saying that to be nice. You were the one who said that you needed all the money you could get."

"Y/N, one day won't kill me you know," his smirk softened into a grin, "and once I get rid of your sorry ass, I'll be as free as a bird."

You scowled, "you think you can choke on this pillow if I shove it up your mouth?"

"I wouldn't recommend it," a notification pinged and your friend dug for his phone, swiping it open as you laid back against the bed and closed your eyes. Some peace at last. Maybe if you didn't talk, Hyunjae would forget about making the most out of today--

"Right," you heard his phone lock up and forced your eyelids open, "let's go. I know exactly where to bring you."

"I thought you were going to answer that," you motioned for his phone.

Call it imagination, but you swore you spotted something that looked like annoyance flicker through Hyunjae's eyes for a millisecond, before his grin was back on. He was a master at hiding what he truly felt, after all. You'd learnt it the hard way, always having to dig in deep to understand what really went on behind those toffee-coloured eyes that haunted your nights too many times for you to count.

Hyunjae's words brought you back into the moment, "i'll answer it later. Come on," he made a grab for your hand, pulling you along with him towards the door, "we don't have all the time in the world."

This was going to be a long day.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"Oh my gosh Y/N, you should see your face!"

"Shut up!" You wiped at the water droplets coating your skin, trying your best to get as much of it off with the back of your hand and your t-shirt sleeves. Hyunjae could only laugh, his boyish giggles exploding through the otherwise silent room as weird, curious glances were directed your way.

"This is your fault," you were red in the face by the time you managed to wipe all the water off, your scowl so deep that it would've sent anyone running. Hyunjae merely whistled in that cheerful way of his, bumping his shoulders with you before linking with your arm and tugging you towards another aquarium pod, "I think you just got on that sting ray's bad side."

His brilliant idea was to spend some time at the London aquarium, which -- granted -- you hadn't visited despite the four years of living in this place. So far, you were amiably surprised by the variety of animals and species on display and if it weren't for that sudden splashing incident with that sting ray, you would've been quite a happy girl.

"I think you were the one that annoyed it so much, so it decided to take it out on me," you snarled back as you approached the octopus section.

"Nonsense, I'm too cute to be annoyed with," Hyunjae gave you a pout that caused your arm to whack his shoulder in retaliation. He whined in pain, holding onto his shoulder blade and muttering how violent you could be whenever things didn't go your way.

"You're the one being dramatic," you scolded and folded your arms across your chest, your eyes finally diverting towards what you were supposed to be focusing on from the start. The octopus gazed back at you, its tentacles moving in unison like a mermaid under water.

You weren't a fan of anything with tentacles, but even you had to admit that the octopus was beautiful, mesmerizing even. So much research had been conducted on these animals that it was hard not to sympathize with them, with the fact that they were currently holed up in tiny spaces that didn't allow them to grow and flourish as they should've.

"It's really pretty," you murmured out mostly to yourself, though Hyunjae was close enough to hear.

"Yeah," he mumbled back, nose practically pressed against the glass. From this angle, the blue light reflected off the planes of his face and softened his features like a child. Hyunjae looked almost -- almost being the keyword -- angelic, "do you think they know people stare at them all day long?"

"Well I suppose they have eyes for that."

"Yeah but maybe they just like minding their own business."

"I think if you stare at them like you're staring at them, they're definitely going to notice."

"He's so cute," Hyunjae reaches up with a finger, brushing it over the glass pane that separates him and the octopus, "d'you think we can bring him home?"

"I don't have a home anymore, Hyunjae."

His eyes narrowed up at you in a pout, "I meant my home. Why are you being so mean to me?"

"The same reason you're mean to me," you shrugged with a grin, "because it's fun."

You moved on to the deep sea section after having managed to pull Hyunjae off the octopus' aquarium, sending an apologetic smile to a bunch of schoolkids that had been waiting for their turn since the moment he'd decided to stick his nose to the glass wall. The deep sea was scarier, with types of fish that you weren't used to seeing. Together, you and Hyunjae observed the various species, crying out in delight when you managed to match the pictures to the actual creatures swimming in the tank.

After that you moved on to the sharks, where your friend decided that mimicking them was the best sort of entertainment. You couldn't help but laugh as you snapped pictures of him making the same ugly, open-mouthed face as the creatures of the deep end, while Hyunjae urged you to strike a pose so that he could capture memories of you instead.

"Wait wait, don't move--" Hyunjae tipped his head to the side, away from his phone to look at you in annoyance, "Y/N, can you please just smile?"

"Well you're the one taking ages to take one single picture," you'd replied through gritted teeth, a smile plastered on your face with such force you felt your jaw ache with effort.

"I'm just trying to get the best shot of you--"

"Just take the damn picture!"

"Wait--" before you knew it, he'd closed the gap between you, one hand reaching up to brush a few of your hairs back and curling it behind your ear.

The action was so sudden it took you by surprise, causing a small breath to escape your lips. You looked up at him, only now noting the closeness of his body to yours, and Hyunjae did the mistake of glancing down at you only for your eyes to lock.

"There," his voice was loaded with something you couldn't quite explain as he kept on pushing your hair over the curve of your ears. His eyes softened as they met yours once more, the glimmer of a smile playing across his lips, "that looks better."

Your lips parted, "I--"

"Now smile!"

With that, he jumped back and did a pose so comical you couldn't help but chuckle. You held up your hands in a peace sign, grinning at the lens as you heard the shots being taken.

It was just for a brief moment. So brief you swore your imagination was playing tricks on you, getting you to memorize the warmth of Hyunjae's body and the closeness of his face to yours, the gentle brush of his hand. You shoved down all thoughts and feelings that seemed to want to fester, quickly putting it out with logic and rational thought.

Today was just about having fun with your friend, and you were not going to let anything else ruin it for you.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"How long do you think they had to stay like that?"

"It depends," you cocked your head to the side in contemplation, "do you think they'd need the toilet, standing like that for so long?"

"Oh definitely. I don't know about girls. But guys?" Hyunjae scoffed beside you, "there's no way they'd go a whole six hours without peeing. Trust me, I have my sources."

You couldn't help pulling a face at him, "you're disgusting, you know that?"

"Only for you, princess," he winked.

Hyunjae's next stop was the Portrait Museum, which according to you was a complete scam. The Palace was beautiful enough; with curved marble arches, beautiful marble flooring to match and lovely gold-ornated surfaces. The ceilings were adorned with paintings of all kinds of scenes; from jesus's uprising to the european war raging from one end of the corridor to the other. There was nothing to say about the architecture; it was a stunning piece of the work.

The portraits found in it though? You weren't quite so sure.

You walked past one of them now, a gnarly-looking man sitting atop a velvet couch, with his wife behind him looking as dutiful as anyone would in that time period, her hand placed strategically on his shoulder as a way to demonstrate his power, her allegiance to him.

You snorted. This didn't interest you in the least, and you turned to tell that to your friend--

--Only to find him measuring someone's willy with his fingers.

"What the fu--Hyunjae!" you stormed over with barely concealed rage, grabbed a hold of his hoodie before tugging him off it. Your cheeks blazed red as your eyes darted around, glad for once that the place seemed void of people as you shoved Hyunjae forward.

"What in the world were you doing?!" you hissed with narrowed eyes.

He shrugged, "I was just curious! You know, apparently greek gods loved small willy's. It was a sign of--"

You clapped your hands to your ears, "I don't want to know what sign it was," scowling at him, "just don't do that kind of stuff when you're with me."

"Stop being a prude Y/N," he waved you away with a smile, "I'm sure you'd want to know--"

"I do not!"

"Okay okay," he laughed, the sound bouncing against the corridors of the museum and echoing through the room. He clasped your forearm before he pulled you along with him, his hands hot on your skin and sending goosebumps skittering along its surface, "I'll try to be on my best behavior. But! -- No promises."

"Yeah," you tried not to focus on the lingering touches of his hands along your skin, "you--you do that."

You stumbled yet another corridor filled with portrait paintings, this time seemingly of royal families that had taken over the English Court over the decades. Poring over the same boring hairstyles, the same accessories, similar dresses the women donned, your nose couldn't help but crinkle up in distaste as you thought of how uncomfortable the material must've felt. Forget running around in a playground, how were you even supposed to sit in this thing? It looked like it would choke you from the inside out!

Hyunjae found great joy in coming up with all sorts of stories for these paintings. According to him, the picture of a soldier and his wife was that they weren't in love, merely wed by duty, and that the man was actually relived to be heading off to leave his wife alone, knowing that there would be heaps of whores in the vicinity of the battlefield to keep his bed warm.

Another portrait of a woman with her two children had Hyunjae believe they were actually escaping London and that the artist had captured them in mid-action. Their wide, horrified eyes could tell of the fearful stories encapsulated in the aggressive brushstrokes rending the image into reality.

"Aren't you the storyteller," was what you mused, grinning playfully at your friend who seemed all too intent on creating stories out of his head. He was having way too much fun for someone who claimed to find paintings "boring."

"I gotta keep myself entertained somehow," he pulled out his tongue at you childishly before he beckoned you over. This time, it was a landscape filled with lush fields of green. A maiden, seemingly your age, basked in the shadows of an apple tree, her face tilted up towards the sun as she sat underneath by its roots, looking serene and beautiful.

"What's her story?" you nudged Hyunjae's arm.

He hummed under his breath and you took that time to admire him. Sure, Hyunjae was probably one of the most handsome men you'd ever met, there was no denying that. From, the soft bristles of his hair falling into his eyes and the small pucker of his lips to the permanent gleam in his eyes that told secrets held only just for you. He was the perfect package.

How you guys turned out to be friends, you'd never know.

"I think that--" but no sooner had he spoken that his phone chimed. Hyunjae grumbled, reaching for the device from his pocket while you watched his expression contort slightly into one of sheer annoyance.

It was impulse that made you ask, "is everything okay?"

Hyunjae bit the inside of his cheek. His gaze never leaving his phone, you watched his fingers fly over his keyboard.

"Hyunjae?" you prompted in the silence.

"Huh," Hyunjae's eyes flickered back up to your face, "yeah. Yeah everything's fine."

"Are you sure?" you probed as he dropped his phone back into his back pocket with a decisive finality that had you wonder what more he was hiding. His face seemed neutral enough, but you knew him a little more than that, to know whenever something was bothering him.

"Yeah, it's--" he ruffled his hair, a habit of his whenever he was nervous as his eyes quickly flickered between you and the window at the end of the hall, "--it's Jinhee. She's not too happy."

"About us hanging out?" Guilt instantly filled you, mixed in with the pain of knowing that you had to share him. Yes, you forgot for a while; that Hyunjae had never been yours to begin with.

"Yeah, she's...well, we were supposed to go on a date today. You know how tricky it is for her to get days off," he grabbed onto your forearm as he spoke before ushering you out of the museum. It seemed as though your visit had been cut short.

There was urgency in his movements now, a sort of fleeting panic that hadn't been there this morning.

"Maybe you should go back to her," you said as you exited the building. The sun beat down upon your, its midday shine causing sweat to build along your temple, "I don't mind. You've spent enough of your time on me."

"Hardly," he bit back without looking at you, "and we barely have time to hang out. This is your last day here. I can go on a date with her anytime--"

"Hyunjae," you pull at him, making his feet halt along the pavement. Tugging at his t-shirt so that he had no other choice than to face you, you forced your lips into a small, hopefully understanding smile, "it's okay, really. I'd rather you go make it up to her rather than her misunderstanding that--"

"There's nothing to misunderstand. I've already told her countless times that today wasn't going to be possible."

"Then why is she still mad?"

"She's not--It's--" Hyunjae huffed, let out a breath before his hands landed on his hips in exasperation, "it's complicated."

"You're making it complicated--"

"I just want to spend time with you," he cut you off then, eyes boring down into yours with such intensity you felt like you had to make yourself small underneath his gaze, "is that so much to ask? Why are you being like this?"

"I'm not--" you swallowed, "I'm not being like anything. I just don't want you to have a hard time after--"

"I'll deal with the consequences afterwards," and with that, he made another grab for your forearm before tugging you along, resuming your walk down the street, "there are still many things on the agenda, so stop moping and walk with me."

Maybe it was hateful of you to feel a bit of relief, to know that Hyunjae had inevitably chosen you instead of his girlfriend for once. God knew how long they'd been together, having been joined at the hip since their last year of high school, you'd gotten to know Junhee just as much as Hyunjae, though never really managed to get close due to her constant need to steal all of Hyunjae's attention.

Not that you minded. She was, after all, the most important person in Hyunjae's life. There would be no one else that could take that spot apart from their future child.

And yet, part of you was happy that he'd chosen you over her.

Yes, it felt like a cheap shot. You felt like a cheap shot. But it was uncontrollable, the sudden rush of giddiness at the thought that he was yours alone. At least for these few hours stolen under the midnight sky.

For now, that will do.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"This is the best pizza I've eaten in my life."

"No kidding. I still think that the campus pizza was the best one we had."

"That's just because it was one pound fifty a piece."

You and Hyunjae bickered back and forth over which pizza was the best while sharing the ginormous slices offered by the current food stand standing just a few meters away. George's Pizza was what it was named as, its fluorescent green and red letters not providing any comfort whatsoever in its advertising. Nevertheless, after some wheedling and whining, Hyunjae had managed to drag you over before buying two slices under your nose.

The food market was always a busy place, bustling with people, buyers, sellers, the scent of food wafting through the air like a permanent beacon pulling you in all--too--many directions. But that was what you loved about it. There was a certain sense of community, a sense of no judgement, where people loved and just appreciated what others did without hate or complaint. The food market was a happy place indeed.

Currently seated on one of the bar stools paired with a few makeshift wooden tables that seemed to have been made out of crate boxes, you shifted and crossed your legs over the over. Night had fallen and the sky was currently oozing in shades of orange, pink and blues. It extended over your heads, a beautiful midnight sky in the distance bleeding into the evening like watercolors, and the cold air soon seeped into your skin with the night that came with it.

"How much do you think he makes?" you asked Hyunjae as you motioned towards the said pizza guy from George's Pizza. He was red in the face, currently juggling orders like his life was on the line. Sympathy filled your chest at the sight.

"Dunno," Hyunjae's nose scrunched up in that adorable way of his every time he was thinking, "maybe thirty pounds, give or take, every day?"

"Is that a lot?"

"Depends on what you define by rich,” Hyunjae shrugged, “but I suppose he’s happy doing that. He’s doing his thing and it’s—well, it’s working right?”

You let out a soft breath, “yeah, he’s definitely better off than I am. I don’t even know what I’m going to do after this.”

“You’re fine Y/N,” Hyunjae said firmly, “you’re still young. Stop talking like you’re forty-five and past your prime.”

“Easy to say when you’re the one with the job lined up after graduation.”

“Hwy hey, no one told you to go into Engineering when Accounting was a safe bet okay?”

You tsked under your breath, “nerd.”

“Hey watch it,” Hyunjae scowled, “that nerd is going places.”

“Yes, in a ginormous corporation where you’re gonna spend all your youth trying to climb the corporate ladder, only to blink when you’re thirty with no kids, no woman—“

Your friend huffed in protest, “You underestimate me."

Chuckling, you just throw a chunk of tomato you’d picked out from your pizza and he yelped, ducking as the food flew right over his head.

“You’re disgusting.” Hyunjae said.

“Do you really think that you'll be happy being an accountant till the day you die?"

"Yeah," he said it without missing a beat, "why not? You know, jobs aren't like--something that needs to fulfill you. Jobs are just--jobs. They're part of life, and they're tiring. And yes, you'll hate it at some point."

"Yeah but I just want to hate it less."

"Tough luck with that, my friend," polishing off the rest of his slice, Hyunjae wiped at his mouth with a napkin just as you shoved your last bite into yours. He chuckled at the sauce smeared at the corner of your lips and his arm reached out as if on autopilot, brushing at your lips with the said napkin.

The action caused you to jump slightly, having not foreseen such tenderness from the young man. Hyunjae, frowning, was fully focused on wiping away the sauce, "jeez Y/N, you eat like a pig."

Noticing that you weren't saying anything, he made the mistake of glancing up, only to see you already gaping at him like he'd grown an extra pair of eyes.

His hand dropped like he'd burnt it. Looked away.

You cleared your throat, "well, what's next on the list then?"

"Uhm--well--good thing you said that because--" he fumbled a bit with his words, as though this small interaction with you had caused his brain to short-circuit. It was cute, though you knew it's effect wasn't the same kind that you went through with every touch of his searing across your skin.

"We are going to ...drumroll please?" you proceeded to stomp along the table with your hands. Hyunjae joined in with a cackle and burst out, "--we are going to! The! Amusement! Park!"

"What?"

"What do you mean, what? Amusement parks are fun! You said you've always wanted to ride on rollercoasters!"

"That was before I went through that whole Halloween escapade thing where my seatbelt wasn't tight enough and I had to hang onto the rail for dear life," crossing your arms over your chest in refusal, you shook your head at his puppy-dog eyes that seemed to have increased tenfold as soon as the word 'no' came out of your mouth.

"Come on," Hyunjae pleaded, clasped his hands together and looked like he was about to cry, "come on? Pleasepleaseplease. For me? It's our last day? Do you really wanna just--go back to the flat and just--that's it?"

"Hyunjae, it's anything but Amusement Parks," you whirled your hands around to prove your point, "what about cat cafes? Why can't we go there?! Or dog cafes, even better!"

"You know I'm allergic to cats."

"You have medicine for that, stop being a wuss."

"Y/N come oooon!" he grabbed your arm and howled so dramatically a few heads turned your way. Your face flamed with embarrassment. This boy was going to be the death of you. Either that or you'd murder him, "I already bought tickets too! Do you know how expensive they are for foreign students?!"

"No."

"Please."

"No. It's a definite no. Don't you listen to me when I talk? I'm traumatized by--"

"I'll keep you safe from the zombies, I promise!"

"No is a no, Hyunjae!"

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

In the end, you'd had no choice.

Hyunjae was definitely a force of nature, one that collided with every single being and environment and unleashed his magical powers in order to control what and who was around him. He was magnetic, with features so doll-like and beautiful that it was impossible to ignore him across the street. That, paired with that amazingly suave personality, garnered him so much attention back when you two were freshmen that you'd steered clear away from him.

You weren't the type to spend your nights drinking away, unlike most of your dorm mates. Which was probably the main reason why they thought you were weird in the first place. Who went to university and got to bed at nine-thirty in the evening?

No one. No one but you.

So when Hyunjae had accidentally gotten himself partnered up with you for a project in your marketing class -- the only class you had together -- you'd given him a total of ten minutes before he'd start to insult you in that passive agressive way young adults liked to sneer and sneak in comments nowadays.

But Hyunjae wasn't like that.

He wasn't like that at all.

Respectful, friendly and just taking his time to listen to what you had to say, he was the one that prodded you with questions so that you had to answer in order for him to leave you alone. He'd find you in the hallways in-between classes, talking so animatedly about his day sometimes you thought he was just trying to render himself interesting to you, the way baby horses had to make a point about being good stallions. But contrary to what you'd thought, Hyunjae had kept in contact with you even after the project, and when people started snubbing him because he was hanging out with a 'weirdo' and a 'loner', he'd just flick them off with his magical finger, wiggling it in the air for all to see.

You still were curious to know why Hyunjae had been so adamant on being friends with you back then. Of course, growing through university had changed you both. You managed to make some friends with like-minded people you enjoyed hanging out with, and Hyunjae was just the same dazzling young man everyone fawned over. And yet, time had gone by so fast that you were now full adults, already graduated and ready to embark on your new adventure.

Maybe that was the reason you always managed to lose in arguments with him. Maybe that was the reason he was able to push you to do things out of your comfort zone. And you let him. Because at the end of the day, Hyunjae had been there through the darkest nights, where the storm had hit you and broken down every single inch of your confidence.

Maybe that was why you were tolerating him, right here. Right now.

"Come on Y/N! I really wanna get that plushie!"

"You have tons of them already," you wrinkled your nose in distaste at the flurry of bright, neon colored plushies lining the inside of the claw machine that Hyunjae was currently 'oohing' and 'aahing' over. A bunch of primary school kids were just in vicinity, throwing him concerned looks flickering with fear.

You grabbed his shoulder, hauled him away from the claw machine and a five-year-old girl that looked like she was about to cry at the sight of him, "you're terrorizing the children," you muttered under your breath, loud enough for him to hear.

"Nonsense. Everyone likes playing that game," he wriggled out of your grip then, pressing his nose right against the window pane. The small girl had already inserted her coin and was now playing to catch a large pikachu, practically half your size, "you're doing it wrong, girlie. You gotta move towards the left."

The girl looked stricken, blinking up at Hyunjae in fear. Her lower lip trembled, hand shaking on the console.

You slapped Hyunjae across the head, "OW!"

"Shut up Hyunjae, nobody asked for your opinion," you leaned over and pushed him out of the way in the process, "don't listen to him, sweetie. You're doing great. Just make sure to press on that green button."

In the end, she didn't win.

"Right," Hyunjae was first in line to grab the console, "thank fucking god, it took her five entire minutes to press on the button can you believe--"

You swatted him once more and he cried out in pain, "OW Y/N WILL YOU STOP?!"

"You stop, you big oaf. Stop bullying these little kids."

He pouted, "but I just wanted to win a present for you, is that so bad?"

"You could just buy me one and I'd happily--"

"That's not the same thing," his pout deepening, Hyunjae wasted no time inserting a coin. His tongue stuck out unconsciously as he moved the console with practiced ease, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as you watched by his side while trying not to mind the growing queue behind the pair of you.

God, just give him a plushie so we can move on, you begged at whoever was listening out there. You really couldn't stand in the cold any longer than you needed to be. And plus, your stomach was getting antsy without food.

"Alright," Hyunjae rubbed his hands together. He blew on them for good luck and straightened so that he could catch your eye, "this one's for you, Y/N."

And then he winked.

Your heart swelled.

Butterflies erupted through your stomach. You dropped your gaze, cheeks flushing with heat as your friend smacked his index on the button.

What was that? Your brain was rambling, running, scrambling together bits and pieces of thoughts at the wink that was just directed at you.

It meant nothing. No.

It meant everything.

It meant nothing.

It couldn't mean anything.

He was with someone, dammnit.

Get a grip Y/N.

A fucking grip--

"YES!"

Hyunjae's holler burst your thought bubble and before you knew it, a large pikachu was thrust into your arms and you were swung into the air, half-panicked as laughter erupted from the young man holding you up by the waist.

"Wha--Wha--What are you doing?!" your cries were barely heard over the way your friend was twirling you around as bubbles of laughter kept escaping his lips, "Hyunjae!"

"I'm celebrating! Can't you tell?!" he whooped and looked up at you. And you swore that in his eyes you saw stars that made your chest quiver and your heart ache in more ways than one.

He must've noticed your sudden change in demeanor, for his face fell. Setting you down on your feet gently, he blinked as you stumbled back from his hold. You held onto the plushie with both arms as your stomach filled with a tightness that made you want to vomit everything you'd just eaten.

The way he was looking at you wasn't helping. As if there was something more he'd like to say. As if being here with you was something he enjoyed a little too much.

"What's wrong?" Hyunjae asked.

You shook your head, tried hard to keep your lower lip from trembling. When you answered, your voice was a strained murmur, "nothing. I just--I think we should go back."

"Are you okay?" he took a step towards you. You stepped back. Hurt flashed across his face, "Y/N?"

"I'm fine," you replied a little too quickly, "just--it's getting late and my flight's early tomorrow morning."

"What? No no--wait, we agreed that we'd spent the entire night together," Hyunjae was rushing to catch up with you as you started walking back towards the entrance as you felt your heart swell int he back of your throat. It was getting hard to breathe, too hard. So hard that you had to fight against the sudden invisible hand pressing down onto your chest.

"Y/N, just tell me what's wrong. Are you feeling sick? Is that it--"

"No!" you whirled around. The emotions were getting too hard to bear. Hyunjae's face came into view and that hurt even more, to see the sympathy on his face, the echo of worry and concern etched into his features. As if he cared enough. As if.

Chest heaving, you continued, "No Hyunjae. I just want to go back home and sleep until my flight. I--I'm sick of hanging out."

It felt like a slap to him. You could see it in the pain that flickered in his eyes. He took a step towards you uncertainly. He mumbled a few incomprehensible words, before finally asking, "did I do something wrong?"

"No you did nothing wrong," tears suddenly filled your eyes. You turned your head away, "you never do anything wrong."

"Stop--why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" you sniffed.

"You're lying to me," Hyunjae took a step towards you, causing you to stumble back, "you're always lying to me and I can't figure it out."

"I'm not lying to you."

"Stop that. You're not doing yourself a favor," his hand grasped your wrist, his thumb finding a soothing spot that he kept brushing over as he tugged you a little closer to his chest. His eyes flickered with emotion, dark and molten like lava, and suddenly you felt like you were a little too close for comfort.

Not that Hyunaje seemed to notice. His other hand reached out to wipe at your cheek and it was only then that you noticed you were crying.

"Why Y/N?" Hyunjae tipped his head to the side so that he could get a look at you, so that your eyes had nowhere else to stray, "why are you crying? Did I say something that upset you?" his nose wrinkled then, "wait--it's not the plushie is it? I mean, you could've just told me you wanted another one--"

"No," you blubbered, laughing despite it all. That was so typical of him you couldn't help but grin, "no it's nothing to do with the plushie."

"Then?"

"I--" you swallowed, bowed your head to the ground, "I don't wanna leave."

It took a moment for Hyunjae to register your words. The silence weighed heavy on your shoulders amidst the screams and excited cries from the amusement park.

When he spoke next, his voice had softened to a murmur, void of any of comedy, "I don't want you to leave either."

You looked up. At him, at the way his eyes shone in the dim light of the park. It was dark now, practically impossible to make out his angular features.

"Look I know it's not that simple to just brush it off. You're leaving after all," Hyunjae brushed away the rest of your tears as they now fell shamelessly, trickling down your cheeks and creating paths of glistening wet crystals as his hand unconsciously wound around your elbow to pull you closer, "but no one said it's the end of the world. You can always come back, apply for a permit. Heck, you can apply to other countries and travel all over the world. You life isn't over yet Y/N. It's starting. Just starting, okay?"

You didn't answer, favoring silence as you allowed yourself to be selfish only for this night. Wordlessly, you wrapped your arms around his waist before you buried your head into his chest. Hyunjae froze for a second. His body tensed up, before he melted and hugged you close to him. His chin came to rest at the top of your head as he rocked you back and forth, ignoring the weird looks and curious glances cast his way. He'd rather allow you to have this moment to yourself, this moment of peace and quiet despite the bustling environment.

It was late by the time you two made it back to the dormitory. The streets teeming with people going out to clubs or parties. You lost count of the number of girls in miniskirts and already-drunk guys that passed you by as you walked side by side in silence, taking in the beauty of London for what it was. Hyunjae was surprisingly just as quiet as you were, as if your tears had subdued him, and impulsively your arms tightened around your plushie at the thought that maybe you had made it weird by hugging him. Friends hugged too right? It wasn't that surprising, right?

You were almost at Hyunjae's flat when his phone rang once more. Spotting the way his face darkened slightly, you didn't protest when the said young man tossed you his flat keys and mumbled something about coming up soon. Something told you that it was probably Jinhee, mad and annoyed that Hyunjae had ditched her, and so quickly trudged up the stairs to avoid overhearing any unwanted conversation.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

"I told you I was going to be busy today."

"We've barely had any date nights since the start of semester!" Jinhee's voice boomed from the device and Hyunjae flinched back, pulling his phone away slightly with a scowl. He could still hear Jinhee screeching on the other side, "and--what? you decide it's better for you to hangout with Y/N than your own girlfriend? Don't you think there's something wrong here?"

"Jinhee like I said, it's her last day. Can you cut me some slack?" his jaw tensed.

"As if! She's coming back in a few months. Why are you babying her so much?"

"I'm not babying her," anger rumbled through Hyunjae's chest. He loathed it when Jinhee turned into this crazy girlfriend that obsessed over his every move. That wasn't what had made him decide to date her, and this possessive attitude was starting to piss him off, "she might not get her visa to come back. Who knows what method this stupid UK government is gonna use to kick her out of the country for good?"

"I don't care," Jinhee spat, "this day was supposed to be ours. Why are you--" she choked up in a sob and unease shifted in Hyunjae's chest, 'why are you being like this?"

"Let's talk later," Hyunjae glanced back at his living room where you were currently swathed in a sea of blankets. Yes, it was unfair, that his girlfriend was currently all alone and crying over the fact that her boyfriend was ignoring her existence. But it wasn't like he was ignoring her. He'd asked her to come over so that he could spend time with them both--and yet she had flat out refused, been offended even.

"I can't really have this conversation right now," he continued on through her blubbering protests, "I'll call you tomorrow morning okay?"

"I hate you," he heard Jinhee's blubber. His heart tightened, but he pressed his lips together and said his goodbyes.

The line went dead.

Hyunjae sighed, leaning back against the outer corridor in hopes that you hadn't heard anything. That was the least of your worries right now. You were upset too, for unknown reasons that escaped his notice, but your lips were sealed and he didn't want to give you any more reasons to feel bad.

His fingers flew over his keyboard as he texted Jinhee a small "I'm sorry" before walking back through the flat, closing the door behind him with a gentle push as he went.

The TV in the living room was still playing, its volume turned down low as he entered only to spot you -- or rather, your head -- swathed in a blanket fort.

You glanced up as he approached, and something in his heart squeezed tight. He couldn't help but grin; you looked like a child wearing adult clothes, all bundled up and cozy.

Adorable.

“Everything okay?” Of course you were checking on him. You always did.

“Yeah yeah, it’s… fine.”

“Define fine,” you frowned.

"Honestly, I really don’t feel like talking about it,” he slid onto the couch next to you, careful to keep his distance lest he did something he might regret.

After the small incident at the park, he wasn't going to take any chances.

There had been tension, the kind of tension that Hyunjae had wanted to ignore blissfully, a wound that he'd tried to ignore by slapping a cheap band aid in hopes that he'd forget about it.

There was always going to be that 'what if' popping at the back of Hyunjae's mind now and again. It wasn't like he was blind. You were a girl, he was a boy, and you two had the kind of chemistry that everyone envied. You hated his guts most of the time and he loved nothing more than to harass you till you stormed off, all angry and throwing him the middle finger.

Everyone loved to ask whether you guys were dating. Multiple times during your friendship had others questioning whether the line wasn’t being crossed in more ways than one. Multiple times he’s had to rebute that in fact whatever you two were having was just platonic, and that people should be minding their own business.

But that didn’t exclude his own feelings, or the way his heart felt whenever you looked at him for too long.

It was a curse, was what he thought. A curse that he’d be haunted with for the rest of his life.

He even moved on and got himself a girlfriend. Jinhee was nice and kind, quiet in ways that you were brash, cute in ways where you weren’t. And she never gave him trouble. So sweet, so docile, everything that Hyunjae had been looking for in a woman.

But his mind would always come back to you, no matter what. His heart would always tug in your direction, if given the choice.

And he hated that.

The movie ended at quarter past one and you had succumbed to the call of dreamland at that point, casually drooling onto one of his pillows as he rearranged them all to make it more comfortable. He pulled up the comforter to your chin, gently brushing away a few strands of hair from your face as he let out a soft sigh.

You looked so angelic. Like a dove. Like a kid, someone that he’d never be able to hurt.

And Hyunjae would live with the regret that he hadn’t held on to you hard enough. Because you were surely going to find your own piece of happiness. Out there, without him.

Your plane was at seven in the morning, so when your alarm blared at fifteen-past four, you were more than surprised to find that you had dozed off on Hyunjae’s couch.

“Shit,” you muttered, quickly brushing your hands through your thick locks as you heard footsteps pad into the living room.

“All awake your highness?” It was Hyunjae, freshly washed from his shower and looking like a glistening morning angel even in the dim light of the room, “I think it’s time we get a move on, or we’ll miss your plane.”

“When did I fall asleep?” You tried not to yawn as you joined him in the kitchen. He bustled about, popping two pieces of bread into the toaster and placing the butter on the countertop.

“Don’t know,” he cocked his head as you hopped onto a nearby stool, “maybe around one? You were sleeping like the dead.”

“Sorry. But to be fair, you woke me up early this morning.”

“So that you could enjoy your last day,” Hyunjae replied with a pointed look. The toaster pinged and he took the bread out, sliding it onto a plate before setting it down before you, “so don’t blame me. Anyway, you can sleep all you want on the plane back.”

“You’re right.” Just the mention of the plane had your shoulders deflate.

To think that you’d be back on the motherland after god knew how long. And without Hyunjae. That was weird.

You weren’t sure whether you’d spent an entire day without him, the moment you stepped onto campus. He was probably your strongest pillar in this whole world, and yet you were parting ways with him, with no guarantee of ever seeing him again.

“What’s that face for?”

“What?” You blinked in surprise, only to see a cup of coffee in front of you, from yours truly, “what face?”

“That face,” he squinted down at you, “when something’s not good. Like there’s something bothering you.”

“If I can just remind you, I’m going to be leaving soon?”

“Nothing’s stopping you from coming back though, right?” Hyunjae slid into the seat opposite as you both dug into your breakfast, “just apply as an international working visa the moment you land.”

“It’s such a hassle,” you mumbled through a mouthful of food, “I’m not really sure I wanna go through that.”

“That’s up to you to decide, isn’t it?”

You decided to change the subject when you felt the familiar sting of tears in your eyes, “how’s Jinhee?”

Hyunjae visible stiffened. He looked away, “still upset, it seems.”

“Do you want me to apologize on your behalf?”

“That will just make her even more upset.”

“I’m sorry, Hyun.”

“You don’t have to say sorry,” his face was an impassive mask, and yet you saw through the cracks. The way his mouth tensed just at the thought.

You quickly helped him wash the dishes before bundling up and setting out to the airport. Hyunjae ordered an Uber that drove you straight to the first terminal and you were glad for the lack of people there, for who wanted a crowd to see you breakdown for the nth time that day?

He helped you check in, your heart constricting as you allowed him to move your bags onto the rolling mat while you presented your passport to the desk worker. She babbled on about what you shouldn’t have inside your luggage and which gate you would be posted at, all necessary information that flew right past your ears because you were too busy trying not to let your feelings get the better of you.

Your chest felt tight. Like someone was squeezing you out like a wet towel. It took every ounce of your self control to keep yourself from launching into Hyunjae's arms.

Your thoughts flew back to last night when he'd held you close. He smelled good, had a kind of strength about him that made you feel safe. You'd wanted to burrow closer, to stop time just so that you could bask in it.

"All good?" he asked when you got your printed ticket and exited the queue. The place was still void of activity, the only sounds coming from the comforting thrum of the aircon above.

"Yeah, all good--" you were struggling to shove your passport into your bag and Hyunjae tutted, swooping it out of your hold so that you could unzip it properly, "thanks."

"I don't know about you but I really need a coffee," Hyunjae slid the passport in, carefully closing the said bag as you walked over to the food area. He nodded towards a nearby Costa, "wanna keep me company? You have a bit of time before check-in."

"Sure." as if that would make a difference when your heart was already breaking.

The worker who took your order was clearly smitten with Hyunjae's looks, the way she kept on sneaking glances at your table long after you'd gotten your cappuccino and his double-shot of espresso. Hyunjae seemed to have gotten used to whatever attention he brought with him. You? Not so much.

"Do you have to be this pretty?" you meant it as a mutter but his ears were better than you'd thought, for he perked up and asked, "what?"

You sighed in defeat, "do you have to be this pretty?"

"Are you calling me pretty?" Hyunjae snorted.

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Can't you just say I'm handsome?"

"Isn't that the same thing?" you sipped your coffee and the taste exploded along your tongue.

"No, no it's not. Being pretty is for girls. I'm not a girl--or haven't you noticed?" he flicked his imaginary hair over his shoulder and you couldn't help the chuckle bursting from your mouth, "you're ridiculous, do you know that?"

"Yes I know. But thank you, I'll take it as a compliment," he took a long swig of his drink and leaned back into his chair, "so what are you going to miss the most about here, d'you reckon?"

You pressed your lips together, "I don't know. I think the food. Maybe the lifestyle. I really like living in London. Everything's just so...lively."

That was when your eyes fluttered up, only to lock on his and realize that he'd been gazing at you over the rim of his cup this entire time. You dropped your gaze like he'd burnt you, holding your drink with two hands and allowing its physicality of it to calm the sudden hammering in your heart, "and--well, I--I think I'll miss you a little."

You said the last few words so softly that it probably came out as a hushed whisper. But it seemed like Hyunjae heard you all the same, for something in his eyes softened.

"I guess I'll miss you too Y/N," he murmured, "who am I going to bother now that my favourite teasing toy's gone?"

"Hey," you narrowed your eyes at him as he chuckled, "I'm more than just your teasing toy."

"You're right," Hyunjae grinned and without warning, reached out to ruffle your hair, "you're much more than just that, aren't you?"

Too soon, it was time for you to enter through the gates. Hyunjae walked with you all the way to the separation panel, shoulders brushing with yours and your bag slung around his other shoulder as you chatted about nonsensical stuff. Anything to try to get away from the reality of it all. It was coming too soon, too fast, and already you felt like you were about to lose a part of your heart.

"Well," Hyunjae stopped a few paces before the security guards before he turned to you, his face unreadable, "I guess that's a goodbye for now."

He had on an easy smile that didn't reach his eyes, and that made your chest squeeze with emotion, your throat tightening as you grabbed your bag from his hold and murmured your thanks.

"You'll come back as soon as possible, right?" he asked, lips quirking up at the corner. Yet, you thought you'd caught a glimpse of restrained emotion in his eyes.

"I'll try," you mumbled out. You couldn't look at him, for fear that you'd burst out crying.

Instead, you found a random spot on his shirt, right along his chest, that suddenly became of extreme interest as Hyunjae continued, "don't forget to text me when you land."

"I will."

"And eat a little, will you?" he nudged your forehead with a finger, causing you to yelp, "otherwise I'll have to fly over and cook for you myself."

You'd want that. You'd want that so much that it made your heart hurt. Swallowing thickly and trying hard to keep the tears at bay, you managed to croak out, "I hope that everything will be okay with Jinhee."

"Oh it'll be fine," something in his jaw twitched, "nothing that can't be fixed. And I'll see her soon. Whereas you..." he trailed off, his words echoing around you with a hollowness that had you suck in a breath.

As if on cue, the call for your flight sounded from the speakers, making you suck in a breath and doing the mistake of looking up at your friend. His delicate features, those eyes that made you feel all warm inside...all these things that you would miss terribly now that you were going to be separated by hours and flights.

You felt like crying.

Was this what heartbreak felt like?

"Alright then," your voice was heavy, muffled with a thickness that couldn't hide the tears glistening at the corners of your eyes, "I guess that's my cue to get going."

Hyunjae nodded. He pressed his lips together and patted your shoulder, "safe flight, Y/N."

"Yeah," you nodded back, threw him one last look to etch his face into your memory, before you turned towards the gates.

You took a step forward. And another, and another.

Your stomach was in knots. You felt sick, your throat burning with effort to keep it all inside.

And then, Hyunjae's voice like a soft melody.

"Y/N."

You couldn't stop yourself.

You swiveled around and threw yourself headfirst into his arms.

It was his scent that hit you at first. Musky with a hint of mint and something else, something that you couldn't quite place as the warmth of his arms enveloped you like a cocoon. You all but buried your nose into his chest as your own arms laced around his back and clung on for dear life. You could probably count the amount of times you'd hugged Hyunjae from the moment you'd first met, and this was probably the first time you had allowed yourself to bask in his presence for so long, letting that selfish part of you -- the part that didn't want to let him go -- take over for just that small moment.

Everything felt right when you were in Hyunjae's arms. As if all the evil in the world was replaced by none other than him, his heartbeat beating against the shell of your ear. The soft breaths tingling along the side of your forehead as he pressed his cheek to your temple.

"I--" you tried to stop the trembling in your voice but it was impossible, "I--I'm really going to miss you."

"Me too Y/N," his voice was a caress against the back of your head. He tightened his grip ever so slightly and your ryes fluttered shut.

You didn't want this to end.

You wanted to stay here until the end of time.

Because this felt like home. This was home.

Hyunjae had become the pillar in your life that you made your way back to no matter what. And now, he was being wrenched away from your hold.

Another announcement about your flight made you pull back ever so slightly, looking up as he did the same. You lost breath at the proximity of your faces, your heart stuttering when his nose brushed yours ever so slightly.

You gazed at him with a question. He gazed back, a swirling mass of emotions on display, tenderness and warmth that made you weak in the knees.

He was so close that you could see all the freckles dotting his chees, the mole along the side of his eyes, the way his lips were parted.

If you were to lean in. Just a little, you could even--

NO.

Your arms took a life of their own, propelling you back before you made a mistake.

Your chest heaved. A sour taste filled your mouth at the realization of what you -- almost -- did.

You couldn't. You can't. This was your friend, and he had someone else.

He loved someone else.

A burst of pain echoed through your heart at that. Something snapped inside your heartstrings and you let out a soft, quiet gasp as you stumbled back a few steps.

"Y/N," Hyunjae was reaching for you but you quickly ducked out of the way as you breathed, "I--I'm sorry Hyun. I--I need to go. I--" you turned, already starting to walk away in hopes that it would calm the mass of feelings roaring through your body like a tidal wave. But the current was so strong it made you short of breath. You were halfway already through the door before you looked back over your shoulder, a lone tear streaming down your face.

Hyunjae was still there, looking like someone had punched him in the gut. It made you want to sob, and you clamped your lips together as you spotted a faint smile, a wobbly one at that, pull at his lips.

"Goodbye Hyunjae," you mouthed.

He raised a hand in goodbye and turning so quick so that you wouldn't feel the guilt of leaving him behind, you walked past the gates without a backward glance.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

part two >>

38 notes · View notes

forever-rogue · 2 years ago

Note

Hey lovely! How are you? I was thinking of requesting some sort of soulmate au with a protective soft din djarin x reader? I’m a big fan of the au where you share an eye color with your soulmate as in one eye is yours and the other is theirs so that would mean din would know before reader and you can choose to have them find out or keep it a mystery! I just know you’ll do great!

AN | I don’t think I’ve tackled a soulmate!au before but this was so much fun! Enjoy🥰

Warnings | None

Pairing | Din x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 3.1k

Masterlist | Din, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Din Djarin had never seen his eyes in anyone else.

And he looked - he spent so many years looking for them but he had yet to find his soulmate.

The advantage of being behind a mask meant that no one could ever see the disappointment on his face when he realized they weren’t the one.

As time wore on he started to wonder if the one was out there for him. He’d heard tales of poor unfortunate souls that were destined to be alone. Maybe their soulmate had met an early end or maybe they never wanted to be found. He was almost positive that was going to be him as well. It was rare for people to get so far in years and still remain without their soulmate.

He was a lone Mandalorian making his way through the galaxy and life with only his son at his side. Maybe his heart was meant to be alone too.

He hated the idea of that.

So much that he was completely lost in his own thoughts as he followed Grogu through one of Nevarro’s markets. So lost that he didn’t even notice you until he walked right into you and knocked you over.

You landed on the ground with a soft oof as Grogu babbled at his father in what could only be described as a scolding tone.

“I am sorry,” and he felt genuinely terrible. He was no small man and covered in armor made it only that much worse. He crouched down in front of you held out a gloved hand, “are you alright?”

“I think so,” you felt dizzied but alright otherwise. You looked up at the Mandalorian and offered a small smile in response, “nothing hurts so that’s a good sign.”

You put your hand in his outstretched one but he was frozen and didn’t help to pull you up to your feet. You raised an eyebrow in concern - maybe he was the one that needed help.

“Are you alright?” your soft question seemed to pull him out of his trance as finally hoisted you up. You could tell that he was studying you intently and that made your entire face flush with warmth, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he almost choked on the words as Grogu looked between the two of you. The little one was already well aware of what was happening, “sorry again, it was my fault.”

“No worries,” you looked between the two of them before taking a step back, “I, ugh, I should go. Take care, Mandalorian.”

He watched you go for a moment before Grogu’s soft protest urged him to move forward, “wait!”

You turned around at the sound of his voice, a bemused little smile on your face, “Din Djarin. My name is Din Djarin. And this is Grogu.”

“Hello Grogu and Din Djarin,” you repeated and oh. He liked the sound of you saying his name. In exchange you offered your name and gave him a proper handshake, “is there something I can help with?”

“Do you live here?” you thought the question was odd, but you received no bad feelings from him so you didn’t think anything of it. He fell into step with you and you felt a jolt of electricity run through you.

“I do,” you stopped to look at some fresh fruit, “you are not from here.”

“I am not,” he confirmed, “but we live here now.”

“Welcome to Nevarro,” you quickly bought some of the fruit and handed a piece to the excited and curious looking child, “I hope you’ll like it here. If you need anything, I’m around.”

You turned to leave again and this time Grogu pulled on your pant leg to hold you back.

“Your eyes,” he blurted out suddenly and that caused you to stiffen in surprise, “the color-”

“I don’t have a soulmate,” you answered without another word before turning on your heel. You were most decidedly not going to do this right now with a virtual stranger, “take care Din Djarin.”

He opened and closed his mouth a few times, unsure of what to think or feel at that moment. That was not how he had expected this to go.

Maybe he was wrong, maybe you - no. He wasn’t wrong, he was a lot of things but not wrong. Your eyes were just like his, mirroring them almost exactly.

You were his soulmate.

And yet you didn’t believe you had one.

He was going to change your mind…hopefully.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You didn't look back until you were home and alone. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest and your mind was racing.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, taking in your wild and frazzled appearance before staring at your eyes. You'd looked at them a hundred million times before but never like this. Dark brown but golden and honeyed with flecks of warmth. They'd always been unique and you'd never see another pair before.

And yet…maybe you'd just met your soulmate. It wasn't totally out of the question, right? The universe usually worked to push soulmates together. Maybe that was what was happening now? Maybe - no.

You hadn't even seen his eyes. What if he was just making a comment about yours? But…you'd felt so drawn to him, so safe and comfortable without hesitation. Like your heart felt at home.

You gasped out loud at the revelation. After so long of searching and waiting and hoping you actually have a soulmate, your wish might have come true.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"I know," the Mandalorian looked at his son and sighed in exasperation, "I didn't know what to do in the moment."

Understanding babbles met his ears as he picked Grogu up and started to walk to his bedroom. He settled him gently in his bed and looked at him fondly, "perhaps I am wrong-"

Grogu blinked at him owlishly, absolutely telling him off. The little one was far wiser than people gave him credit for.

"Even if I am not, I can't just…" he waved his hand around, at a loss for words, "I have to figure it out. If I even see her again."

He bade his small son a good evening, mind anymore but in the present moment. When he walked into the fresher, he stood in front of the mirror and studied himself. He looked the same as always, or so he supposed, as he didn't tend to look extremely closely most days, but his eyes seemed to stand out a little more.

With hands braced on the counter, he leaned and looked at their color and depth. There was no mistaking it - you had the same eyes.

You were his soulmate.

Now he just had to convince you of the same…somehow.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Several days passed before you came across the Mandalorian alone. You felt relieved at not having seen him, but felt an even larger rush of relief when you did see him.

He found outside of the small shop you worked, his son in tow. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of them. Oh. Something was definitely going on.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said as he looked at him in surprise, "for the other day. I didn't mean to scare you off."

"It's okay," you promised softly, "I'm sorry for how I acted too. I shouldn't have…done that."

“You were scared,” he hated the idea that you were scared in general but especially of him. He felt the urge and pull to protect you, and he’d vowed to himself to do that, whether you accept him at your side or from a distance, “I’m sorry.”

“I wasn’t scared so much as…surprised,” you shrugged sheepishly, “no one’s ever said anything about my eyes before so I just assumed that you were…anyways, it doesn’t matter.”

“You can tell me,” he gently encouraged you, desperate for you to say the words he was yearning to hear, “you don’t have to be worried.”

“I shouldn’t have assumed that you were going to say you were my soulmate,” your cheeks warmed up and you bit the inside of your cheek, keeping your gaze focused on the ground, “I don’t think that person exists. It’s been so many turns that I’m sure I would have met them already.”

“And what if I told you I was?” that piqued your interest and you looked at him in wonder. Your lips formed a pretty little pout and he couldn’t help but already dream of kissing them.

“I wouldn’t believe you,” you admitted quickly, “it would be too…I can’t see your eyes. How would I know without seeing you? I know you cannot take off your helmet in front of me, Din Djarin. I’d be going on your word only.”

“I would not lie to you-”

“I want to believe that you would not,” more so you didn’t want to be some sort of mistake because that might crush your heart, “as far as my understanding goes, you can only show your face to your spouse or children.”

“You are correct,” really he was ready to whip off the mask and show you his face but he refrained, “let me prove it to you.”

You laughed, a lovely, magical sound that went straight to his heart, “you want to prove you are my soulmate?”

“I do,” he promised with a fervent nod, “because I am not wrong.”

“Say you manage to… convince me that you are right,” you articulated a lot when you spoke, a trait that he found endlessly endearing, “and we…marry or whatever allows me to see you fully and we find out we’re not soulmates, what then? Have we wasted our time on each other and set up the possibility for a lifetime of broken hearts?”

“You think people who are not soulmates can fall in love?”

“I believe that anyone can fall in love,” you shrugged, “there have been instances when soulmates weren’t right for each other.”

“And what if we fall in love despite not being soulmates?”

“What if we did and then one day one of us meets our intended soulmate?” you hated that idea almost as much as you disliked the idea that he wasn’t your soulmate, “that might be even worse.”

“We would have to figure it out then,” he mused in agreement, “but you don’t have to worry - that will not happen.”

“You are so convinced,” you did enjoy his persistence, you would not deny that, “are you always right? Or just stubborn?”

“Perhaps a bit of both,” you looked into the black T of his visor and you just knew that he had a smile on face, “what do you say? Let me try to show you.”

You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling. This was a lot he was asking of you, but also a lot he was doing as well. But you couldn’t deny the pull you felt towards him either…maybe that was something after all.

“Yes,” you whispered softly, “show me.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And show he did.

It started out slowly at first, the two of you forming a friendship that felt so natural and easy - like you’d always been friends. The two of you had a lot in common, but were also very different but found that you fit together almost perfectly. One of the things you both shared was the love for his son. And Grogu loved you just as much in return.

You realized soon just how very much you cared for them the first time they left to go on a job. The idea of them being gone for any amount of time was enough to make your heart ache, but it wasn’t like you could do anything. You had thought about asking to go with them but he quickly shut that idea down; he insisted you stay behind where it was safe and he knew you’d be taken care of. He promised the next time he was certain there was no danger you could go with them.

You never argued and the few times you had disagreements it was over something silly or trivial, and it was resolved quickly. You liked being around the two of them and found yourself always gravitated towards them as they often did to you.

They were gone for a little over two weeks; you felt like a part of you had gone with them and you were left to wait and wander listlessly. When they got back you almost refused to leave them.

You’d experienced such a pull towards the Mandalorian from the start and that feeling was only growing, day by day and bit by bit. Part of you was ready to give in and admit that he had been right from the start but another part of you was still scared to have everything fall apart. So you danced around each other, but over time it was becoming harder and hard to ignore. Something was going to have to give.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

And something did, about a year after you’d meet the strange Mandalorian and his son.

“I-I think you might be right,” the two of you were sitting around a fire in the backyard, enjoying the cool shift of summer into fall. Grogu still had enough energy to be running around and playing with some stray lothcats. Din regarded you curiously, tilting his head in your direction.

“About what?” you knew that he knew exactly what you were talking about. You huffed lightly before gesturing vaguely. He wasn’t going to give you the easy way out on this one.

“Stop,” you buried your face in your hands, feeling butterflies flutter wildly in your tummy as you tried to tone down your nerves, “you know what I mean.”

“I do,” he nodded in agreement, “but I want to hear you say it. Please.”

“I think you are my soulmate,” you whispered just loud enough for him to hear over the merrily crackling fire. For a moment he almost wasn’t sure if you’d said anything but he heard you loud and clear. When he remained silent you began to panic…maybe he’d changed his mind and just hadn’t told you. You swallowed thickly and tried to get a read on him, “say something, Din, please.”

“What made you change your mind?” he slowly rose to his full height before walking over to you and sitting down at your side. You could practically feel the excited but nervous energy flowing off him. You shifted slightly so you could face him, “hmm?”

“It’s just…everything,” you reached up and touched his helmet, right where his cheek would be, “I think I’ve always known. When I didn’t realize.”

“Are you not afraid of being wrong?” but he didn’t ask it in a cruel way. He was genuinely curious and wanted to make sure you knew the potential implications of what you were saying.

“I was,” you confessed softly, “but I realized that even if for some reason, we weren’t…that whatever we had was still real. But I’m also sure you’ve been right all along.”

And yeah. It was all really real.

“Do you trust me?” this time he touched your face, after pulling off his gloves and letting his warm skin touch yours. You’d gotten peeks of his skin here and there but having him touch you so tenderly was an entirely different thing. He’d grown more physically affectionate with you over time, but something about this felt so different, “even if-”

“I do,” you leaned into his touch as he brushed his thumb over your cheek, “I trust you more than anyone else. I think the rest, Din Djarin, is up to you.”

“It is not just up to me to decide if we should marry,” he insisted gently, “you have to be part of that decision as well. I’m sure, cyar’ika, you know what my answer is.”

Your whole expression softened as you looked at him and nodded softly, “I want that too.”

“Even if you haven’t seen the proof yet?”

“Even if I haven’t seen the proof,” you laughed softly, “I know you’re right.”

He put his hand under your chin and turned your face up to his, “close your eyes.”

You wanted to protest, to give him a little bit of push back as you loved to do. But this time you decided not to do it, to just go with it. You breathed out softly before closing your eyes. He pulled his hand away from your face and you frowned at the loss of his touch. It was quiet for a moment before you heard him moving around and setting something down. Oh.

Your heart was beating so wildly it felt like it was going to burst out of your chest.

“Open your eyes.”

You inhaled sharply, taking a moment to breathe before doing as he said. Slowly you opened your eyes and you were pretty sure you stopped breathing.

Looking back at you was a sight you had never expected to see - your own eyes reflected in your soulmate’s face.

You gasped in surprise before leaning in and taking his face in your hands. He’d been right this whole time; he’d always been meant for you. You’d been made for each other.

“Wow,” the whisper escaped your lips despite your best efforts and Din couldn’t help but chuckle fondly. He turned his face slightly and pressed a kiss to your palm, “your eyes…you were right. Maker. You’re so handsome…on top of everything else.”

“I told you I’d prove it to you,” he sounded even more golden and honeyed when he was unmasked. You could definitely get used to hearing it for the rest of time, “do you believe me now?”

“Yes,” you beamed at him, “I think I did from the beginning, even if I didn’t fully realize it. But wait - your face! We - we’re not-”

“Will you marry me?” he asked and you nodded without hesitation, “then I believe this is allowed.”

“Says who?” your eyes widened as he grinned at you.

“Says me,” he leaned in so his lips were almost brushing against yours. Your heart felt like it was going to burst with pure unadulterated happiness, “what do you say?”

“Yes. A million times yes.”

“Then I have one more question for you,” he ghosted his fingers along your jaw as you made a small sound, “may I kiss you?”

And you definitely knew the answer to that, just like you’d known all along.

“Yes.”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x fem!reader #pedro pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin imagine #din djarin one shot

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sarafinamk · 8 months ago

Text

Fallen Angel (Reader Insert) Incorrect Quotes Part 3

The Smiling Critters Space Riders Au and the character "Z" belongs to @onyxonline

If you haven't checked out the Fallen Angel (Reader Insert) series, you can check it out here. The reader will be referred to as both (Y/n) and Archangel. Enjoy!

Warning: Cursing

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Bobby: Don't break someone's heart, they only have one.

Archangel: Break one of their bones instead, they have 206 of them.

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Crafty: Do you guys ever have a civilized conversation that doesn't require insulting each other every time you get a chance?

Z: No.

Archangel: No.

Crafty: Didn't think so.

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Archangel: I've invited you here because I crave the deadliest game...

Hoppy, nodding: Knife Monopoly.

Archangel: I was actually going to play Russian Roulette, but now I'm really interested in whatever knife Monopoly is.

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Archangel: I found a note in one of my old logs that said Note to self: Get revenge on Captain Dogday.

Archangel: Except I couldn't remember what I was supposed to get revenge for.

Archangel: But I trusted my own judgment, so I went with it.

Dogday: Hmm... I don't know what you were supposed to get revenge for, either.

Archangel: I can only assume you got what was coming to you. Not 100 percent sure, though.

Dogday: Well, whatever I did, I guess I deserved it.

Archangel: Let that possibly be a lesson to you.

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Archangel: The only thing keeping me from running away and hiding from society for the rest of my life is spite. I could disappear forever, but there are some bitches whose downfalls I have yet to witness, and I wanna be around when that happens.

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Poppy: Your archangel was in a fight.

Dogday: Oh no, that's terrible!

Catnap: Did they win?

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Dogday: Did Z just tell me he loved me for the first time?

Archangel: Yeah, he did.

Dogday: And did I just do finger guns back?

Archangel: Yeah, you did.

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Archangel, watching Hoppy do something stupid: Kickin, you're officially only the second highest risk here...

Kickin: Hell yeah! I'm gonna-

Archangel: Don't finish that sentence, you'll move back up.

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Archangel: How do ethical philosophers feel about murder?

Bubba: Well, it's frowned upon.

Archangel: Okay, but what if the reason you want to murder someone is to make your life easier?

Archangel: That's okay, right?

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Bobby: And now for a gay update with Captain Dogday and Z.

Dogday: Getting gayer.

Bobby: Thank you, Captain.

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Bubba to Archangel: We call that a traumatic experience.

Bubba, turning to Catnap: Not a "bruh moment."

Bubba, turning to Kickin: Not "sadge."

Bubba, turning to Hoppy: And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO."

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Archangel: Why do you look like that, Captain?

Dogday, laying face-first on the floor: Like what?

Archangel: Like you're dead.

Dogday: It's because I'm dying. Leave me here to perish.

Catnap: Dogday accidentally called Z "babe" in front of everyone today.

Dogday: *sobs into the floor*

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Archangel: What's this?

Bobby, hugging Archangel: Affection!

Archangel: Disgusting.

Archangel:... Do it again.

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Kickin: You know, (Y/n), when you generalize, you tell general... lies.

Archangel: ...

Archangel: Are you trying to teach me moral lessons through puns?

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*One of the many, MANY fights before the events of Fallen Angel*

Dogday: You tricked me!

Archangel: I deceived you. 'Trick' makes it sound like we have a friendly relationship.

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Archangel: Here's a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Dogday: (Y/n), no.

Hoppy and Catnap: Mistlefoe.

Dogday: Please stop encouraging them.

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Archangel: I have a plan.

Dogday: No murder!

Archangel: ...

Dogday: ...

Archangel: I no longer have a plan.

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Archangel: If I die, you can have what little I own.

Bobby: Wait. What do you mean "if" you die?

Archangel: My unending existence is fueled by pure spite, that of which the painful experiences of life have rendered me full.

Bobby:

Bubba, sighing: Let me call your therapist again.

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Archangel: I'm bored, any suggestions?

Catnap: Sleeping is nice.

Archangel: I acknowledge your suggestion, and I'm deciding to ignore it.

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Hoppy: You think you're smarter than everyone else.

Bubba: I don't think I'm smarter than everyone else. I know I am.

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Kickin: So, I MEANT to say: "Oh crap, I left my phone my car," but what I ALMOST said was "Oh no, I left my cone in my phar," and damn, wouldn't that have been embarrassing, but I caught myself, and what I ACTUALLY said was:

Kickin: "Ah, my fart cone."

Kickin: So, anyway...

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Archangel: I know you don't have to listen to me...

Z: Glad we agree on something.

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Dogday: Do you have any skeletons in your closet?

Archangel: You mean literally or figuratively?

Dogday: Honestly, the fact that I have to specify...

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Dogday: (Y/n), I am questioning your sanity...

Hoppy: I never questioned it. I knew their sanity was missing from the start.

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Catnap: Why is Hoppy rolling on the floor laughing? And what happened to Kickin's head?

Archangel, sighing: Kickin was about to hit his head on the door frame, so I told him to duck and he quacked at me.

Archangel: And then he hit his head.

Catnap: *wheezes*

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hellfire--cult · 1 year ago

Text

Baring Teeth {Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader} - Ch. 12

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️This chapter contains: Angst, billy x reader, nervousness, eddie crying

wc: 7.6k

A/N: Sorry for taking so long! and oof... next chapter is where everything goes coo coo

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

Taglist is closed

<- Prev. chapter - Next chapter ->

CHAPTER 12

It started out of a pure mistake.

Your phone dinged with a notification from Instagram, a direct message from… You looked at the screen with an eyebrow raised up in confusion as you saw Eddie’s username and then ‘sent a video’. You haven’t talked privately with him since Jonathan's. Why would he send you a video? You put down your glass of wine on the counter and opened the message to see he sent you a meme.

You snorted loudly when it was a compilation of screaming cats with screamo voices from metal bands. At the third cat you threw your head back in laughter and then another ding caught your attention, getting out of the video with a smile on your face, small giggles escaping you as you kept remembering the screams.

“I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND IT TO YOU”

That explains a lot. You snorted again as you double tapped the video to give it a like, to then reply back to him.

“I laughed so I forgive you 😆”

“Oh, so does it mean we have the same sense of humor Peach?”

“Don’t get your hopes up Munson.”

But the asshole was right, and the memes he sent to you made you laugh each time, and it came very apparent that you two did share the same sense of humor. You sent a few memes back to him, and then it was a back and forth thing, just memes being exchanged.

So now, you were giggling after a full week of just sharing videos with Eddie as you stirred the onions on your pan to start preparing lunch. You had the wooden spoon on one hand, and the other was holding your phone as you looked at the new video Eddie sent you with the words ‘This was us.’ And it was a video of two corgis just barking at one another aggressively and non stop, one on the couch, the other on the floor.

Spot on.

“What are you laughing about?” You heard Billy ask as he walks into the room with just a pair of sweatpants on, drying his hair with the towel, shaking it all over his curls. You turned your head as you kept giggling, showing the video to him.

“My friend sent me a funny video.” You say and the word friend sounds quite too much for someone like Eddie Munson, but it would be difficult to explain the relationship to Billy. Your boyfriend leans to see what you were showing to him only for him to tilt his head in confusion and then back at you.

“Why are they being that aggressive with each other?” Right, he doesn’t know the context of why you were laughing, so you put the phone away as you shook your head.

“It’s just funny to me.” You reply to him and in all honesty, Billy and you didn’t share the same sense of humor. He liked… dark humor. You weren’t going to deny that one joke here and there made you giggle or snort, but he liked heavy dark humor, and about topics that didn’t make you that comfortable, mostly about ho–

“Oh, you’re making pasta baby?” He asks with a smile to his face as his arms wrap around your waist from behind and you feel like melting under his touch, a smile spreading on your lips.

“Yes I am.” You say proudly to him, and he nods as he puts his chin on your right shoulder as you keep steering the onions on the pan, waiting for them to turn into a golden color.

“My friends loved you by the way.” Your breathing hitched slightly at that. You met his friends yesterday at one of their luxurious apartments, and it was just a few people, not that many, and you were happy to see Billy expressing himself with his friends and to see him in that new light. You were sort of relieved you had caused an impression on them…

Even if they didn’t cause one on you.

Billy’s friends were really narcissistic. Everytime you said something about your job, they always repeated the same thing: ‘You wouldn’t have it if we didn’t model’.

You wanted to rip Tommy Hagan’s head off.

Then Heather Holloway kept pestering you about getting her a column in your magazine so she could get more deals with important brands and the worst part is that Billy didn’t acknowledge any of it. He didn’t see the problem of what his friends were saying to you, nor what they were asking for.

So you didn’t tell Billy how uncomfortable you were at that place, not that he actually asked you what you thought about his friends. It’s okay, your opinion didn’t matter really, they were his friends and he wasn’t going to change them for you. You didn’t want him to do that of course, and you wouldn’t ask for that in a million years because you just weren’t like that at all.

“Really? I’m glad.” You say with almost a bitter tone, hoping he wouldn’t catch it, but of course, you were wrong.

“You didn’t like my friends?” He asks you as he lifts his head from your shoulder and you sigh, shaking your head.

“It’s not that, I just now met them. Can’t really say I like them or dislike them.” You say to him without taking your eyes off the pan in front of you. You didn’t want to start an argument right now, and much less today when it was Billy’s turn to meet your friends.

“Hmm…” He replies back and you clench your eyes knowing that he was already mad. This is another side Billy has. Whenever he is mad he simply shuts off and he is the one that decides when the argument or fight is over.

“I told you yesterday that some comments made me uncomfortable. I don’t share their same humor, so it’s just a matter of getting used to it.” You cringe at your words because it was the last thing you wanted to do, but you needed Billy to be in a good mood today. You wanted him to be in a good mood. You heard him sigh as he pressed his chin against your shoulder again, making you sigh out of relief.

“Yeah, I know… They are a lot to take sometimes.” He chuckles at his words and you melt at his voice. You wiggle in his arms as you laugh from how his stubble is tickling the bare skin of your shoulder.

“C’mon, get me the tomato sauce and put water in a pot.” He laughs at you and lets go of your waist to follow your instructions but then you jump up with a gasp as a loud smack could be heard across the room.

“Don’t order me.” He says to you in a hungry tone as he rubs your right ass cheek before walking towards the cupboards. You shake your head at him as you hear another ding of your phone going off.

It must be another cat meme.

You were nervous.

Scratch that. Really nervous.

You didn’t know where else to clean to calm your nerves. These were your friends, they don’t care at all how everything looks, but you were just fidgety. What if Billy doesn’t like them? What if they don’t like Billy? What if there is an uncomfortable moment at one point? What if your friends don’t include him in conversations, or what if Billy starts a topic no one is interested in and–

“You okay?” Your boyfriend asks as he walks into the living room with a nice black flannel, his hair tied up into a small bun, freshly shaved but keeping his distinctive mustache on, and you were hit by his fragrance which already made you melt away in the matter of seconds. You walked towards him and wrapped your arms around his neck to then dive your nose in the crook of your neck, making him chuckle as he held you close. “Needy?”

“Very much.” You pulled away to look at him. His blue eyes locked with your with a warm smile on his lips, and put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“Now, why were you pacing around the room like a crazy person?” He asks you and you cannot help but bite your lip in embarrassment, sighing at your mind for being the bitch it was being right now.

“I just– I want you to like them and I want them to like you too, and, you’re the first boyfriend I introduce to them and I–” He cut off your rambling by placing a small peck on your lips and pulling away with a grin on his lips.

“Everything is going to be fine.” You take a deep breath at his words and you nod slowly at his reassurance. He takes a moment to look all over at you, a smirk appearing on his lips. “Though… I mean, we can always postpone…”

You rolled your eyes at him, giggling at his idea as you shoved him lightly by his shoulder. You were wearing a nice simple short black dress, thin straps over your shoulders and some low heels. It was a little formal for your friends, sure, but you felt like being an extravagant host today. You shake your head at your boyfriend who was still smirking at you with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“No, they should be here at any–” The doorbell rings and you raise your eyebrows up in surprise, looking at the door and then back at Billy. “Minute.”

“Spooky.” Billy says with a roll of his eyes and you squint at him as you take a deep breath to walk towards the door. This is it. This is another barrier you will break with Billy. Another step that solidifies your relationship even more than before. Your hand grips the handle of the door and finally opens it to reveal five people smiling at you with drinks in their hands.

“Wassup amiga?” Argyle is the first one to greet you and you giggle at his excitement. You move aside to let everyone in, and you frown when you see Steve, Jonathan, Nancy, Robin… No sign of Eddie.

It’s not like you invited everyone personally, one by one. You just sent an invitation to the chat group you're all in and he didn’t say either yes or no, but somehow you were expecting him to be here tonight. You closed the door once Robin finally walked in as she wiggled her eyebrows at you. You turned to find everyone introducing themselves to your boyfriend with big smiles on their faces. You sighed with relief as you walked over to them and stood next to Billy.

“So, Billy, are you taking care of our girl?” Steve asks and you send him a murderous stare. Out of them all, the one you were scared the most of making things awkward was Steve, and here he was, not even ten minutes in your home and he was already making stupid questions. Billy frowned as his cheerful face fell for a second to a more somber one.

“I am.” You frowned a bit at the change of Billy’s tone and Steve noticed it too, making him start to open his mouth again, only for Jonathan to interrupt him.

“Baby, don’t strangle the guy with questions already.” Billy’s ears perked up at Jonathan’s voice and looked in between him and Steve.

“Baby?” He asks and you jump up in realization, making Billy look at you in confusion.

“Right, Jonathan and Steve are going out with each other and…” You look at Robin, raising an eyebrow up in question, and she just looks at Nancy and wraps an arm around her shoulders, making the curly headed girl blush an intense red.

“And we are in the works of it!” Robin cheerfully says and you giggle at how Nancy acts around Robin. She is usually cool and even when she dated Jonathan in the past she always looked like she was the calm one while Jonathan always blushed in embarrassment.

“Well, Robin and Nancy are in the works of going out.” You giggle and look back at Billy and your face fell as he looked at your four friends who were in their own world as they talked to each other with smiles on their faces.

There wasn’t a smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“I am a lone wolf.” Argyle was standing next to Billy with two beers in his hands and your boyfriend looked at the long haired man and then down at one of the drinks. He took a bottle and immediately took a long sip of it, making you frown with worry. Was he upset you didn’t tell him before about the relationships in your group? Maybe if he’d known he could have started some type of conversation first?

You ordered some pizza for everyone, except Billy who had prepared some salad for himself that afternoon. He didn’t want to eat flour two times in the same day. You understood that because he is a model after all, and he often does it when he is with you. You would eat a burger while he ate grilled chicken and veggies. Or you would eat fried chicken while he ate an omelet and a salad.

“Don’t you want a slice?” Robin asks him again, just to make sure and Billy could only give her a small smile as he shook his head.

“No, I’m good.”

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want, but don’t you have cheat days? Or–” Robin continues and you want her to shut up, you really did. At this point Billy hadn’t talked that much and just let everyone be and often listened to some conversations, so you just assumed he was mad at something that happened, or something you did.

“I don’t forbid myself from eating… It’s just that today we ate pasta for lunch, so that would already be my cheat meal of the day.” You didn’t want to think badly of your boyfriend, but the way he responded to your friend, almost annoyingly, had your skin crawling for some reason. Robin seemed to get the picture and gave you just one glance before going back to the pizza.

Your nerves start setting in as you realize that… your friends do not like Billy, not asking him any more questions or even including him in conversations… but your boyfriend doesn’t like your friends either, messing with his phone as you all shared stories about one another and he didn’t even ask questions about their jobs or how they all met each other, or anything to get to know them.

You clenched your jaw and you excused yourself as you stood up and walked towards your coffee table to retrieve your cigarettes and lighter and go into your balcony, shutting the blind behind you. You didn’t know when the night went so wrong, you couldn’t pinpoint it, but the anger against Billy was slowly rising each second it passed. You didn’t like his friends at all, but still made small talk with each of them even if you cared shit about their life. You made the effort and he isn’t even trying.

You lit a cigarette and took a long swig of it as you took your phone out of your dress pocket. You looked behind you to see Billy talking to Argyle, and it seems he is the only one that actually got a conversation out of your boyfriend. You shook your head and looked down at your phone again, and you sucked in your cheek as you went to Eddie’s direct messages with you.

YOU: Why didn’t you come?

You send the message as you blow the smoke out of your lungs. You look out into the city with a frown on your face, still trying to think of why everything went to shit. Your phone dinged after a minute and you looked at the screen to see Eddie messaging back.

EDDIE: Maybe you didn’t stroke it well.

You snorted at the answer and almost choked on the smoke. You shook your head at how immature he was and typed back to him.

YOU: What are you, ten?

EDDIE: Inches? Not even close.

“Oh for fuck sake.” You say out loud this time with a suppressed laughter. The fact that he was replying fast meant that he really wasn’t doing anything else, so the question popped up again and you typed it out to him.

YOU: Why didn’t you come to my house?

EDDIE: Didn’t think you’d want me there.

You frowned at the answer until you remembered that you and Eddie only bonded a week ago after a year of going at each other's throats. And the fact that you only bonded through memes made the friendship even thinner. You licked your lips as you took another swig of your cigarette and you sighed as you typed your answer.

YOU: Well, glad you didn’t, it’s a shit show.

EDDIE: What do you mean?

YOU: They don’t like him, he doesn’t like them.

You were becoming teary eyed each word you typed out and you took a deep breath in to keep the tears in, and another drag of the cigarette went into your lungs.

EDDIE: Seriously?

YOU: Yep. I don’t know why, but fuck, I hate that he is not doing the same thing I did for him.

EDDIE: Explain?

YOU: His friends suck Eddie. They are fucking stupid, and the most insufferable people ever, but I at least made conversation with them, not show my distaste in their faces.

It felt good to let all of that anger out, even if it were to Eddie, but somehow it felt right. You turned to see what was going on inside, and you could see Billy talking with Jonathan now. You could only guess that Jonathan was doing his best to include Billy into the group, but from your boyfriend’s face you could see that it wasn’t working.

EDDIE: Sorry sweetheart, but your boyfriend sounds like a dick.

YOU: He isn’t. I don’t know why he is acting this way.

EDDIE: Maybe talk to him afterwards? See what his problem was or is?

You sigh at his response and you were already planning on doing that, but you would have to wait until everyone is out of your home to do so and your anxiety was eating at you to know what was going on in your boyfriend’s head.

YOU: Was planning on doing that. I know the rest don't like him because he is being unlikable right now.

EDDIE: Damn, if I were there I would make his night a living hell, just talk his ear non stop. 😝

You snorted at that knowing Eddie would definitely bug the shit out of Billy if he were here. You sighed, wishing that Eddie had actually come and were doing exactly that and maybe, just maybe, the tension wouldn’t be as thick as it is now.

YOU: Sorry for ranting out to you.

You bit your lip at your message. You really didn’t expect to go into Eddie’s messages to actually talk to him about your feelings right now, but for some reason you felt he was the one you had to talk to at the moment, someone who wasn’t in the scene that was happening inside your home.

EDDIE: It’s alright, I don't mind it.

You took the last puff out of your cigarette as you put it out in an ashtray that was on the little table in your balcony. You gulped as you looked at your screen, fingers hovering over the letters. Would it be too much? Would it be too forward? Well, he was the one that followed you first last time, so might as well have the same amount of balls that he had.

YOU: Okay, but I prefer phone messaging rather than instagram DMs.

EDDIE: Is this your way of asking for my number?

YOU: Is it working? 👀

You wondered what Eddie’s face was behind his screen, your heart racing a little in nervousness, feeling as if you were overstepping this new relationship you two had, but the message you received made you smile again.

EDDIE: Surprisingly, yeah

You were washing the last bit of dishes as you heard Billy tidying up the room, putting the chairs back in place as well as the couch and throwing away the pizza boxes. He hasn’t talked to you since everyone left ten minutes ago. You put the last glass on the drying mat and then dried your hands with a kitchen towel. You turned around to see Billy turning off the TV and you crossed your arms over your chest.

“What happened?” You asked him and he looked at you with that same blank look he had all night.

“What do you mean?”

“You… You didn’t even try to socialize with my friends, and whenever they did try to talk to you, you replied in the most… disgusting of ways.” You replied to him and he sighed, shaking his head at you.

“I didn’t sound like that.” And you rolled your eyes at him, which made him frown at you.

“It did. You acted like a jerk all night! I didn’t like your friends either, but I at least tried to get to know them!” He scoffed at your response and paced around the living room as he kept shaking his head.

“So? We have different ways of acting towards people we don’t like.” What?

“You disliked them from the first moment you saw them! I at least got to know them first! How do you dislike someone without knowing about them?” You knew your voice was elevating itself, gradually, and Billy wasn’t talking in his same low tone either.

“Oh for the love of– I don’t care what you did with my friends. I don’t have to act the same way you do.” This was the first ever big fight you had with Billy, and you weren’t liking where it was going at all. Your heart was breaking slowly as you stared at him.

“Then… If I don’t like your friends, but I do try to keep it civil… And you don’t like mine but you don’t even put a single ounce of effort… Then what’s the point Billy?”

At that, Billy finally stopped his pacing and turned to face you. He inspects your face and his shoulders relax when he sees a tear rolling down your face and his heart was about to jump out of his throat. He didn’t want to lose you, not because of this. He sighed and started to slowly walk towards you.

“You’re right. I should have… tried a little harder.” He almost winced at his words, but he really didn’t want to leave you because you were the best thing that has happened to him in a while, and if he had to make a small sacrifice to keep you, then he would. “I just, didn’t feel connected to them so I–”

“It’s no excuse… I didn’t feel connected with your friends either, but you didn’t see me grimacing at every single thing they said!” You yell out and he clenched his eyes in frustration, giving a nod towards you and you felt your heart racing and something deep in your gut was telling you something was wrong. Something isn't adding up but you couldn’t pinpoint what it was.

“You’re right, you’re right, you’re right… I promise I will make the effort next time…” He tries to tell you and you are listening to him but the tears were filling your eyes as you remembered how badly he treated your friends. You cover your face with your hands, and all you could think about was that it felt too good to be true. Billy was too good to be true. Something had to happen for this happiness to shatter into pieces sooner or later.

He came rushing to your side, getting hold of your cheeks into his hands, trying to lift your head up in order to look at your teary eyes, his heart breaking a little bit more because he was the reason for them. He sighed and pulled you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head.

“B-Billy…”

“I promise, I will do better… I don’t want to see you get hurt, so I will get my stupid personality a kick in the ass for you.” You couldn’t help but giggle into his chest as he talked, a smile breaking on his lips at the sound. He pulled away from the hug but kept you close with his arms still around you. “Seriously though… I’m sorry, and I will apologize to your friends as well.”

“Oh…” Your heart melted at that. You didn’t really expect him to apologize to your friends, but here he was, offering it completely. You smiled up at him and got on the tip of your toes to land a soft kiss on his lips, in which he smiled into. “I would like that… Thank you…”

“Anything for you sweetness… Anything.”

And he really meant anything.

The next time he met your friends he apologized to every single one of them, telling them he didn’t have a good day, which was a lie, but he just didn’t want to upset them. Argyle immediately wrapped an arm around Billy to cheer with him as he started telling him about everyone and how they met.

You were really grateful to have Argyle in your group.

You knew he didn’t like Billy either even though he was the most talkative with him, but it didn’t mean he was pleased with the way he treated your friends and how he treated you. Argyle now was the one that is trying to mend the group back like a bandaid, and it is slowly working as Billy listens intently to each of your friends. He was surprised to know that Jonathan had dated Nancy before Steve, and now Nancy is dating, or going out, with Robin.

He also found out that there is a missing friend in the group. A friend you’ve been talking to for the past week through messages.

After the successful night with Billy and your friends, you were headed towards the mall to actually get some new foundation and maybe a new mascara as well. But of course, everything couldn’t go to plan because your lovely car had started making a really weird noise. You were afraid of driving any further and you wanted to at least leave the car at a mechanic’s so that you wouldn’t have to wait for a tow.

You bit the inside of your cheek and you shrieked when smoke started coming out from the side of the front of your car. Your eyes widened when you spotted a mechanic’s shop in the corner of the street and you were begging your car wouldn’t explode as you rode it towards the entrance of the shop. When you killed the engine, the car made a ‘poof’ sound and you got out of it to go to the front.

You winced when you still saw some smoke going up and you knew you would burn your hand if you pulled the hood up without a glove. You turned and saw the Shop’s name, making you scoff at your luck.

‘Munson’s.’

“Just my luck.” You say and you walk over to the door and stare at the doorbell but then you see the garage’s door slightly open and you look around to check if there was anybody outside. You slowly walked over to it and pulled the door open, stepping inside the modest shop. There were car parts hanging on the sides, a car in the middle with the hole at the bottom to fix it, cranes.

You made an approval nod to all of it as you scanned the room, actually impressed by Eddie’s shop. You didn’t think it was like this at all. You believed it was a shop in the middle of the dirt with the walls made of cheap steel and wood. But you were met with concrete, cement floors, the appropriate emergency fire extinguishers and the exit signs beaming in red.

“Hello?” You muttered, but heard no response at all. If the door was open, someone must be in here, right? You stop in your tracks. What if there was a robber? What if you just walked into a burglar breaking in? Oh, fuck, shit! You turn on your heel to make a run for it only for a deep voice to stop you.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Your eyes widen, stopping you completely from bolting away and you turn around to find Eddie, leaning against the doorway of an office, arms crossed and… his eyes are red. Glossy even. Had he been crying? Did something happen to him?

“I uh– My car… It just… poof?” You were at a loss of words, completely. He blinked at you a few times, shaking his head in confusion.

“Poof?”

“Poof.” He stands there, mouth agape as he stares at you. Were you serious right now?

“Okay, rewind a bit with me–”

“Have you been crying?” You ask out of nowhere and he stills again. He licks his lip as he looks away, clearing his throat.

“Is your car outside?” His low voice made you take a step back and realize the boundaries you still had with one another. You look down at the floor in shame, your stomach turning a bit.

“Y-Yeah… I managed to drive it here… Smoke came out.” You say in a small voice and Eddie looked at you again, sighing and heading over to his table to put on some gloves. He then grabbed a tool box and walked out of the garage, you following right behind him. You didn’t know how to interact with Eddie in person. It was different from talking on DMs or text messages, and him giving you a cold shoulder was not helping your nerves.

He popped the hood of your car and he coughed as black smoke came out, fanning all around and you stepped back, covering your face with your arm in order to not inhale any of that smoke. Just what the fuck happened to your car?

“I realize now what you meant by ‘Poof’.” He says with a chuckle and a cough, and you almost sigh of relief as he breaks the ice for the both of you. You walk over to him, still covering your mouth and nose with your hand.

“Yeah, it was making a weird sound and it suddenly, literally, did Poof and then it exploded as I put the brake here.” You try to explain the best you can but you’ve never seen anything like this happen to your car before. He tilts his head and leans forward to check on something.

“Who put in this battery for you?”

“Uh– I think Rick’s–”

“It’s a rigged battery.” Your mouth falls open as you look down at it and back at Eddie.

“What do you mean?”

“He sold you, what he claimed to be, a brand new battery from a known supplier most likely… This is just… a cheap off brand battery.” He finishes and you stand there shocked, looking at him. You were scammed!? What the actual hell!? Fury engulfs you as you curse at the sky.

“Jesus fucking christ!” At your curse, Eddie chuckles and you couldn’t help but sigh. You hadn’t slept that well and now you couldn’t get the foundation you needed at all and the beers you were going to drink to relax at home by yourself.

“I just know Rick. He rips people off.”

“This was the last thing I needed today.” You scratch your forehead in frustration as you look at your car. “Did it break anything else?” Eddie leans forward and puts his hand in to start checking the rest of your car carefully, and he hums in approval.

“No, thankfully. Just the battery exploding, but the cables might be busted as well.” You groan to the sky and you lean back onto the wall of his shop while looking at your busted car. You cursed at nothing because your pay might have to go all the way into the car now, fucking amazing.

“Great… I just wanted to go get some foundation, maybe a purse, go home, have some wine and relax in my solitude and now.” You finish by banging the back of your head on the wall in complete defeat. Eddie took off his gloves, inspecting you, and then sighed.

“I may not have wine, but I do have some beers inside.” Your eyes almost widened. This would be your first private gathering thing with Eddie. Alone. Just like you sometimes do with Steve, or with Robin. But you were tired, not wanting to overthink it, so you simply nodded at him. He guided you both back into the shop and then into his kitchen area for him and his workers. You looked at the nice fridge, the microwave, the coffee pot, the utensils… Eddie had everything for his colleagues.

“Wow… I didn’t think it would look like this.” You see Eddie opening the fridge with a frown to his face as he takes two beers out, closing the door and looking at you.

“I take offense to that. Did you think my shop was trash or something?” He asks and you shrug, taking the beer out of his hand and you couldn’t help but smirk at him.

“Maybe.” He only shook his head at you, opening his can and taking a sip out of it. He walks out of the kitchen area and then heads up on some stairs you didn’t see before. You frown in confusion until you reach another door on the second floor, and he opens it up to reveal his office, where all the archives of his clients are, a desk in the middle, computer atop of it, and it was all decorated with posters and car parts. “Holy fuck…”

Eddie looked at you and he almost spat his beer as he saw the amazed yet confused expression on your face. You really thought his shop was just a garage with some tools. He also thought it was like that, until inspections came up and he had to start upgrading everything with a kitchen, emergency exits, fire extinguishers, first aid kid, and even having CPR lessons for him and his workers.

“I take that, once more, as an offense.” He walks over towards his desk, grabbing onto his chair and pulling it at front with the other one he has. You were still amazed, looking around as you slowly sat down on the chair, absentmindedly taking another sip of your beer. He scoffed at your reaction and sat down in front of you with a huff.

“Well, this is a… huge surprise to me.” Your eyes go back to look at him and he shakes his head as he takes another sip of his drink.

“Took a while, but I got it right.” You nodded in acknowledgment and looked down at your hands as you kept drinking your beer. Eddie could see there was something in your mind, he could sense it even. “What’s on your mind?”

“I just– You didn’t come last night either.” You looked up at him, and he was frowning at you in doubt.

“I… something came up.” He softly says and you noticed the twitch of his eyebrows and he hid it by taking a long sip of his beer. What was going on in his head?

“Well… Yesterday went smoother… Billy talked with everyone, gladly…” You inform him in a cheery tone and his eyes meet yours, a small tug of his lips on the side.

“Told you he would make things right.”

After that night where you DM’d Eddie about the situation with your group and your boyfriend, your conversations escalated to private messages. You were looking for advice on how to make the night go smoother, and how could you know if Billy actually liked your friends or was faking it.

He explained to you that no man would fake something like that. If his dislike is apparent, he would have made it known by now since he got to know them a second time. Billy got to his senses of his bad behavior and he redeemed himself and asked for forgiveness to your friends instead of you, and that says a lot.

“Yeah… I just hope that it’s real.” Eddie can still sense the doubt in yourself, in your boyfriend. He doesn’t have any advice for that, other than she should just trust Billy.

“I bet it is, but you can’t expect them to become besties who talk about their dicks in just one night.” Your eyes widen at that and you look at him who had a smirk on his face, waiting for your response.

“I bet you would make it your job to make him uncomfortable if you ask something like that.” You giggle at him and he chuckles, giving you a nod. This interaction didn’t feel strange at all. It felt natural, funny, as if you were talking to a long lost friend that you never lost the trust in.

“Of course! That’s why I can’t wait to meet him next time we all get together.” Your excitement grew at that. He was formally accepting the next invitation you give him to meet your boyfriend. You smiled at him and took a sip of your beer. His eyes locked with yours for a second and he shifted in his seat as he took another sip himself. Your smile faded and you inspected his face as he looked at the top of his can. Your curiosity was winning the best part of you, and you bit your lip, hoping that you wouldn’t go over the line.

“Why were you crying?”

Eddie’s breathing stopped at your words. For some unknown reason, he felt his chest start to put pressure on his lungs, his throat closing in as his guts turned with anxiety. He gulped the lump in his throat but he could already feel his eyes burning. Why were his walls crumbling so easily with you? It shouldn’t be this easy. It shouldn’t happen this quickly, not after the whole year of despising each other's guts thing.

“I don’t…” And you realize that you may have stepped on a line that you don’t have the right to, at least not yet. This is a territory maybe Steve can go into, but not you.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ask something like that–”

“It’s my Uncle.”

You freeze at that and you keep your eyes on his face as he keeps looking at the top of his opened hand. His uncle… it couldn’t be… He talked about his uncle two weeks ago, how could it be possible?

“What… happened?” You were afraid of asking, really afraid, but you didn’t want to assume the worst.

“He had a stroke yesterday. That’s why I couldn’t go to Robin’s.” He finishes saying and you can see him clutching onto his can. Your heart beats in pain for him, not knowing you feel this way with him, but maybe you two were meant to have this friendship all along, and that’s why it’s natural, that’s why you felt his pain, and his sorrow at this very moment.

“Eddie… I’m so sorry…” You raised a trembling hand up towards his which was resting on top of the desk that was next to you both. He flinched slightly at your touch and you almost drew back from him, but you were surprised when he gently got hold of your fingers with his.

A year ago you would have never guessed this is where you would be standing with Eddie Munson today. Never imagined you would be holding his hand, tenderly, in order to console him as you see his eyes fill with tears, threatening to spill out.

“He is fine… I just had to drive to Hawkins to sign some papers… But…” He winced at how weak he is feeling. He didn’t intend to break down in front of you, hell, he never intended for it to happen ever in this lifetime. He feels your fingers holding his even tighter, and the first tear slips out of his eye. “God, I am just… not ready to face it all alone.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You always saw Eddie as this strong, big and intimidating man… but now you realize he is the same as everyone else. He can cry, he can be afraid, he can do good, as well as bad… Your heart sank at his words, and you shook your head at him.

“No… No, you aren’t alone.” You try to talk to him but he simply shook his head and his eyes locked with yours. Brown eyes, filled with water, showing you a pool of sadness behind them.

“He is the only family I have… There’s no one else.” He saw how your eyes became watery as well, and he sighed as he tried to swallow another hard lump down his throat. You exhaled a shaky breath, putting your can on top of the desk so you could grab his free hand with both hands in order for him to pay attention to you.

“You are not alone… You have more family. Steve, Nancy, Robin, Jonathan and Argyle…” You didn’t dare to say your name. You don't really think that you deserve to be in that spectrum of Eddie’s life, even if he is telling you about it. “And they are all going to be there for you, no matter what.”

Eddie kept looking at you, frowning in his eyebrows, and your eyes were still locked with his. He felt fire in his hand at your hold, but it was something warm, something inviting. He felt safe with you. That’s why he could be vulnerable right now, that’s why he would let the walls fall down. He didn’t care anymore that they did, and he wasn’t going to question it either.

“You know what Wayne asked me when he could talk to me again?” He suddenly says and you tilt your head.

“What?”

“That I put my shirt on backwards.” Your eyes widened at him and he suddenly snorted, wiping his tears away. “I was in such a hurry that I put my shirt on backwards. I didn’t even put socks on and I mismatched my shoes as well.”

You couldn’t help but let out a snort of your own at the image that came to your head. He started laughing alongside you, feeling his chest slowly decompress from the anxiety and pain he was feeling from yesterday, remembering that small moment with his uncle, that even in his worst state, he still manages to rile Eddie up in some way to show him that he is still kicking.

“Well, he does seem like he still has many other things to say to you.” You smile up at him and he just stares at you in amazement. Is this what platonic soulmates were like? Like Robin and Steve? He stared a bit at your face and then down at his hand which was still being held by yours. You followed his gaze and a deep blush spread on your cheeks as you pulled away and got hold of your beer can again.

“Um…” He cleared his throat. “I have batteries here, and the cables. I can probably have it fixed by tomorrow.”

“Huh?”

“Your car that went poof.” He chuckles at the word and you bite your bottom lip to hold in a smile.

“Thank you. You don’t have to do that on a weekend, really.”

“I just guessed you needed it for work on monday.” Your heart definitely thumped at that. You looked up into his eyes and he was gazing at you with a look you couldn’t quite describe, but it wasn’t uninviting, or evil at all. It was kind and understanding.

“I– Yeah… thank you.” You reply to him and he gives you a nod, taking a long sip of his beer can and putting it on the desk.

“I’ll tell you how much it is later. I’ll text you, alright?” You quickly nod at him, finishing your own beer and placing it next to his can on the desk. You stand up from the chair and he does the same but gets hold of your shoulder to stop you from walking.

“Huh–”

“You didn’t say your name.” You blinked at his words in complete confusion. He sighed at you and continued. “When you mentioned everyone else, you didn’t include yourself.”

Oh…

“W-Well… I didn’t think it was my place yet… to include myself in there.” You humbly say to him and he understands your doubts but–

“Well, we’re friends now… right?” Your heart stopped at that and an immense happiness rushed through your body. You didn’t think you would be this delighted to be his friend, but here you are, almost jumping up and down at the new category you have in his life.

“Yeah…” He just kept looking down at you, a soft smile on his face and you felt your knees buckling a little bit at his brown eyes. You cleared your throat and decided to change the mood. “Do friends get discounts?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him and he chuckles, pushing you away by the shoulder he was holding.

“So you’re becoming my friend to get benefits from me?”

“And beer, don’t forget the beer.”

End of Chapter 12

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A/N: Reblogs always help more than likes. Please support artists that way! Oof, what do you guys think is going on with Billy?

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