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mgparker · 3 years ago

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another chance [pt. 2]

[peter parker x f!reader]

NO WAY HOME SPOILERS

summary: an evening in your apartment makes peter realize that your soul was beautiful enough to fall in love with twice

warnings: NWH SPOILERS, ANGST ANGST ANGST, mentions of death, some vulgar language but not rlly, POV switch kinda, peter absolutely not knowing how to act (again), f!reader

part one, part three, part four, part five series masterlist

no way home spoilers below the line, don’t look at tags.. you have been warned <3

pairing: tasm!peter parker x reader

“Okay,” Peter started, barely giving you a chance to recover after your very fast swing through the boroughs of New York City. “So how old are you again?”

“I never told you,” you said, trying to catch your breath and open your apartment door at the same time. Clearly, you were bad at any level of multitasking.

Peter grabbed the keys from your hand, and you marveled at his audacity as he opened the door swiftly. “It’s just that you have an apartment…”

You rose your eyebrows at him. And?

“… in New York City.”

“Not without difficulty,” you admitted, tossing your coat over the rack by the door and slipping your shoes off. Peter made a sound of acknowledgment behind you. “I go to NYU and have a few jobs on the side around here. I’m also pretty lucky that my family helps out so…”

“NYU? Isn’t that a bit far?”

“Yeah, but it’s cheaper here than Manhattan. I also didn’t want to stray too far from home.”

The two of you settled on the living room couch, remote in hand and turning on the TV as soon as your body hit the cushion. Peter watched you with an amused expression, surprised by how quick you just accepted his presence.

“Odd sightings of mysterious villains spotted throughout the state of New York. Is this the doing of a certain Spider-Man or is Peter Parker going to sit this one out and let the villains destroy what little peace and safety we have left? Public enemy number one!”

The TV was quickly shut off again before Peter could get a good look at the low-quality videos sent in by various witnesses. “So… how do you know me?”

“What?” Peter had been lost in thought about the mysterious villains mentioned on the news.

“How do you know me?” You repeated, crossing over to the kitchen and grabbing a bag of pretzels from the pantry. “Were we friends or something?”

Friends. “Uh—yeah, friends—mhm.”

“Oh God, that was an awkward response,” You shoved a handful of pretzels in your mouth as you joined him on the couch again. “Did we fuck or something?”

Your vulgar language threw him off again, bluntness not really a main feature in his version of you. Before he could answer, you shoved your bag in his bubble. “Sorry, they’re just plain pretzels. I ran out of my—”

“Famous cheese and pickle dip?” Peter finished with a nostalgic smile, accepting your offer.

Your expression switched from one of suspicion and then excitement. “Yes! You like it?”

“Not really,” Peter admitted, holding back a laugh when you suddenly glared at him. “But it grew on me… eventually.”

“Of course, it did,” You smugly agreed. “I bet every version of me makes a mean pickle dip.”

Peter agreed with a chuckle. The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, chewing on the slightly stale pretzels. While your brain was preoccupied with the mess that your Peter had gotten everyone into, the other Peter sat in front of you wondering how different you truly were from his version of you.

Did you still love photography like he did? Did you only drink tea—hot, “none of that iced stuff!” you would say—and detest coffee? Did you have someone here?

Oh. The thought made his heart plummet, though he knew he couldn’t get his hopes up. You weren’t her. It was hard to admit and while he knew it in his head, his heart was telling him a different story. The longer he looked at you munching away carelessly on the couch next to him, the more he realized that it would be hard – no, impossible – to leave you again when the time came.

Your hair looked the same, curly pieces falling out of the bun that you secured on the back of your head with… were those bobby pins? Peter had to stretch his neck to really get a good look, but they were bobby pins. Little gold ones to be exact. And your eyes were definitely the same, though he tried not to meet them in fear that it would take him back to the night when your eyes lifelessly stared back at his… and your lips were as beautiful as he remembered.

“Do you…” Peter mustered up the courage to just ask. “Are you – um—are you single?”

Your laugh made him want to shrink into himself. Are you single? Seriously, Peter?! That’s definitely not creepy and weird to ask. What are you doing? Asking her on a date or something? God. Stupid, stupid, stupid-- “Uh, yeah,” you interrupted his self-berating thoughts. “Yeah, I am.”

A sense of relief flooded his senses and he nodded in response. His cheeks were a bright red from embarrassment, and he wished that he could be at least a little smoother around this version of you. But it seemed that your presence was always meant to turn him into more of a socially awkward mess than he usually was.

“And… your Peter?” He’s already making a fool out of himself; he might as well just ask.

Your eyes widened in a comical fashion, letting out an amused wheeze and shaking your head furiously. “Peter? No. No.” You told him flatly. “He’s dating our friend, MJ.”

“Mary Jane?” Peter asked, having faint flashbacks of the MJ that he went to high school with. She and Gwen Stacy were good friends if he recalled correctly.

“No, Michelle Jones,” you eyed him strangely. Speaking of, MJ still hadn’t answered your text. You pulled out your phone, prepared to dial her number before a message came through.

‘We’ve got 3 bad guys here… strange thinks we have them all but we’ll have to keep an eye on the news… lmk if you see anything.’

Moving your gaze up to Peter Parker and then back to your phone, you quickly typed out a response.

‘Well I’m definitely seeing something right now… call me when you can.��

“Is everything okay?” Peter sensed your spike of anxiety as soon as you put your phone down.

Having too much to say but not enough energy to say it, you simply nodded. Taking a moment to appreciate this new Peter Parker, you scanned his face unashamedly. You’d think that his awkward demeanor would throw you off, but it only made him more attractive. It’s like he knew he was hot shit but the second he allowed himself a bit of confidence, he quickly shut it down.

He looked a little older than your Peter and even yourself but not by much. You were a sophomore college student, having taken some early college courses throughout your senior year. Minus the five years of the Blip incident, you had graduated high school about a year ago.

“Oh! You want to change out of that suit?” You realized that he had probably been wearing that suit for hours now. “I think I have some stuff that’ll fit you.”

Peter looked grateful for the offer, following you down the hallway and standing by your bedroom door as you looked through your drawers. “My brother leaves some stuff whenever he comes to visit,” you pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Thanks,” Peter smiled. He changed in the bathroom at record speed and met you in the living room once again. The TV was back on this time, playing a random sitcom that Peter swore reminded him of a show back in his world called ‘Pals.’

God, what should he say? It’s been two years… two years since I’ve seen your face and there’s nothing more I want to do in this moment than kiss you senseless? No. Maybe: I know you don’t know me and I’m basically a stranger who you’ve graciously welcomed into your home—thanks by the way—but I loved you more than anything on my world and I still love you now?

... But it wasn’t really you. He knew that but the sight of you alive and in front of him made it nearly impossible to keep from professing his undying love and how sorry he was for your death.

“Tell me about yourself, Peter Parker.”

Your voice snapped him back into reality. It was warm and still had that slight deeper tone that he cherished.

“Um—my name is Peter Parker,” He racked his brain for some worthy piece of information, catching your blank stare and he realized that you obviously knew that. “I recently graduated from Midtown Science—uh—”

“Dude, no way. Me too!”

“Really?” He tried to feign surprise, though his voice came out a little weak. If you already graduated, it wouldn’t be too long before… No. Peter wouldn’t allow history to repeat himself. Though he had no idea when he would return to his world, he knew that he had to put all his efforts into at least saving one version of you while he had the chance. “When?”

“Last year,” You shared, blissfully oblivious to your other version’s fate. “But my school is called Midtown School of Science and Technology. Same difference, I guess.”

Peter cleared his throat, ignoring the sting behind the back of his eyes and tried to focus on all the good memories he had of you at Midtown. “I’ve been Spider-Man for a few years now.”

You seemed very focused on his words, nodding every few seconds as he divulged a simplified version of his life story. He seemed careful to avoid any mention of you, though you clearly remembered him stating that he knew you on his world, and mostly talked about his friends Gwen Stacy and Harry Osborn.

“Wait, back up. Harry tried to kill you?”

That was the moment Peter realized he had backed himself into a corner.

“No, he tried to get his revenge on Spider-Man.”

“Which is you.”

“…yeah.”

You were confused when Peter had tried to dance over the subject as quickly as possible. How did it make any sense that his childhood friend had went from being a buddy to attempting murder to just living his life like nothing happened? “Well, what happened?” You pressed.

You watched as Peter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and grabbing the back of his neck. It was easy to sense that he was feeling uncomfortable and you felt bad for being so nosey. “Hey, nevermind you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want—”

“It has to do with you,” admitted Peter, his voice hoarse and guilty. You kept silent, trying to allow him the liberty of discussing what he felt comfortable with. But you had to admit that your curiosity was killing you. It was his first mention of the other version of you.

Then, Peter began a confession that would haunt you for a long time. “You were—you were very important to me, and I let you down. I knew that my work was dangerous but I was too selfish to let you go… that night when Harry showed, he didn’t know who Spider-Man was. But then… then he saw you and he put the pieces together.”

Peter choked on his words, not daring to look over at you. He knew you well enough to already envision the look of sympathy in your eyes. He guessed that there would be a hint of guilt in them too—you would probably feel somewhat responsible for his grief. Even though your death was caused by your remarkably similar doppelgänger.

“You paid the price for my mistake.” Peter felt grateful that you hadn’t interrupted. “If I had just been a little less selfish—”

“No,” you finally said. Peter’s anguish felt torturous to watch and while you knew the person he was talking about was practically a stranger, you still felt a compelling urge to comfort him. “No, Peter. I may not be her or know you apart from tonight, but I can tell you this.”

Your hands intertwining with his forced Peter to finally look over at you. His red-rimmed eyes broke your heart a little more. “If she was anything like me, she wouldn’t want you to blame yourself. She made a choice—to stand by your side regardless of whatever danger that could bring because she loved you. And if she were anything like me, she would do it again without a second thought.” Your experience as Spider-Man’s best friend helped the words spill from your lips truthfully.

A sniffle was your only response, so you continued. “It’s okay to grieve, Peter. But it’s also okay to live. Live for her and spend every moment celebrating those minutes that you did have with her.”

You wanted to say something else but hesitated. It could be crossing a line but the muffled sobs that were coming from Peter who had now covered his face with both hands were enough for you to put it all on the line. How could you not? When a version of you had him so torn up right now? A man who you could tell had a heart of gold and a larger-than-life capacity to love.

Fast as it may seem (call it fate or destiny or whatever it may be), you could understand why his you fell so deeply in love with him, that the great possibility of death couldn’t pull you away.

“I forgive you, Pete.”

As the words left your lips, Peter’s sobs were cut off by a raw gasp. As if those words were everything that he needed but would never allow himself to accept.

But hearing it in your sweet, precious voice was enough for some tiny part of him to finally forgive himself for his failure.

Your familiar hand slipped over one of his that were clutching the skin of his face, while another rubbed the shirt covering his back. He felt you shift closer until your knees were touching. “Can I hug you?” You whispered gently, resting your head on his shoulder and crossing one leg over the other to face him fully.

Oh God yes. As if he could ever deny any touch you’d offer to give him. His nod was all you needed before you were embracing him. An embrace that held more affection than you’d usually shown anyone before because in your heart, you knew that he needed it.

You felt his arms curl around the small of your back, holding you with a respectful distance between your bodies. His respect was endearing, as you could tell that the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. But you threw all boundaries aside and wrapped your arms tighter around his neck, bringing him as close as possible. He quickly mirrored your actions, tightly pressing you against him until there was no space between you.

His hold was comforting, the feeling of him being a complete stranger to you melting away as you began to feel more at home with him than ever. A few tears soaked the sleeve of your shirt, and you could hear his whispers of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘thank you.’

The embrace eventually ended by you slowly pulling away, rubbing his back as you cupped his face and smiled at him warmly. “This suddenly got very dark and gloomy, Pete. How about we go make some cheap hot chocolate and watch A New Hope?”

Chuckling through his tears, Peter nodded while painfully realizing that you were absolutely the same soul on this world and his. “You know I can’t say no to Star Wars.”

“I know!” You smirked. Peter Parkers, at their core, were the same.

Peter smiled back, following you to the kitchen. I think I love you already.

part 3 is up!

wow okay sorry for any inconsistency, i tried my best to have this out for you all by tonight,

it might be a little more of a slow burn (not really, i mean anyone can tell that these two are meant for each other on any universe and even they know it)

there will probably be 2-3 more parts of this little series, I just really wanted to give peter a backstory of his time on this universe before showing up in ned’s house via portal

also, I haven't been able to rewatch no way home so i’m a bit confused on the timeline ( especially since andrew’s peter announced that he had arrived in their universe yesterday when I could’ve sworn the movie’s events happened within a day?? idk just bare with me)

taglist:

@idli-dosa @sarcasmismyonlydefense24 @aspicynugget @swaggysposts @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @saturnsgo @vanillacoffeeaddict @sloanna @munchyungwon @taina-eny @aleksanderwh0r3 @plutoneu @xoxoloverb @coolnessisoverrated @anakins-angel @qwertyblo @carmoocentral @infp-t-rhi @weirddominatrixpop @elizaphantandroses @book-fic-reader @kaaylvst @lizzieann143 @iceaesthiexs @lcvebuckybcrnes @elinedjarin @nerdgirl1004 @reveluvvs @steviebunny @tsukilover11 @absurdos @peanutbuttermoony @silverwindptv @poeandtheporgs

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btsqualityy · 3 years ago

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Fools Rush In: Chapter 3

Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Strangers-to-lovers, age gap!AU (reader is 30, Jungkook is 23), Angst, smut, fluff

Summary: You deliver the news to Jungkook and he makes his own decision.

Warnings: None to note.

WC: 2.1K

Two weeks later, you found yourself staring blankly at the large number “25″ that was on the front door of what you had recently found out was Jungkook’s apartment.

You had come to Seoul to compete in the Korea Open so you decided to try and look Jungkook up. You had Yoongi get in touch with some of the organizers of the French Open in order to get his information and luckily, he lived in an apartment right in the city.

Even though you had made the decision to keep the baby and raise them alone if you had to, you did feel as though Jungkook deserved to at least know so that he could make his own decision. That’s why you had been standing in front of his door for the better part of 10 minutes, trying to work up the courage to knock on the damn door.

Just as you raised your hand to knock, the front door flew open, almost making your heart beat out of your chest.

“Are you the delivery woman?” A tall, broad shoulder man asked and you shook your head as you lowered your hand.

“No. I’m actually looking for Jeon Jungkook,” you replied.

“Ah, he’s inside,” the man told you. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes, thank you,” you smiled, waiting until the man had stepped aside before you walked inside and slipped off your sandals.

“I’m Jin, Jungkook’s roommate,” Jin introduced himself as he shut the front door.

“I’m Y/N L/N,” you said.

“Wait, you play tennis right?”

“Yeah, that’s me,” you nodded.

“I though you looked familiar!” Jin exclaimed, making you laugh. “What are you doing here to see Jungkookie?”

“Uh, I’m just,-”

“Hey hyung, was that the food?” Jungkook asked as he strolled out of his bedroom, walking over to the front door before freezing in his spot when he saw you. “Y/N, hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled, lifting your hand and waving a little.

“What are you doing here?” He wondered as he paced over to you.

“I’m sorry for just popping up like this but I needed to talk to you,” you stated seriously as you looked at him and although you could tell from the raising of his brow that he was confused, he turned to look at Jin.

“Can you give us a second hyung?” Jungkook requested and Jin nodded.

“It was nice meeting you Y/N,” Jin smiled and you nodded to him before he walked away and stepped into another room next to the one that Jungkook had come out of. Once the door closed behind him, Jungkook looked at you again.

“Do you want to come sit down?” He offered, gesturing to the couch.

“Sure, thanks,” you murmured as you walked over to the couch, sitting down on the edge and Jungkook sat himself down next to you.

“So, how have you been?” He wondered. “It’s been like three months since the French Open right?”

“Yeah, and I’ve been ok,” you shrugged. “Just getting ready for the Korea Open.”

“Oh, you’re competing in that?”

“Yep.”

“You’re gonna kill it,” he smiled and you couldn’t help the way that your cheeks warmed up at the praise.

“Thanks,” you chuckled. “What about you, how have you been?”

“Good, good, can’t complain,” he said. “Just been working a lot but that’s it really.”

“Still doing photography?”

“Yeah, that’s what helps pay my half of the bills,” Jungkook laughed. “I’m sure you didn’t come here just to ask me about photography though.”

“I didn’t,” you giggled awkwardly. “So, do you remember the night of the French Open, when we spent the night together?”

“Don’t I?” He smirked. “I was a little miffed that you left without saying goodbye but I figured that the whole “drunken one night stand” thing wasn’t typical for you.”

“It’s not and I’m sorry for that, by the way,” you apologized. “I kind of panicked when I woke up.”

“I get it, don’t worry about it,” he waved his hand dismissively. “But why are you asking if I remember that night?”

“Well, um, I kind of...maybe....might’ve gotten pregnant that night,” you revealed.

“Yeah right,” he laughed loudly. “Be serious Y/N.”

“That’s the terrifying thing Jungkook, I am being serious,” you insisted. “I’m pregnant.” The smile slowly slipped off of Jungkook’s face as he realized that you weren’t joking, and you watched as he abruptly stood up from the couch and began to pace the length of the living room.

“What the fuck?” He muttered. “We used a condom.”

“It had to have broken.”

“You’re a woman that plays sports, wouldn’t you be on birth control?”

“I haven’t been in a committed relationship in two years and I don’t do the whole “one night stand” thing, remember?” You explained.

“You literally disappeared on me and had me wondering if the whole night that we spent together even fucking happened and then suddenly, you show up and tell me that you’re pregnant,” he huffed, pausing his pacing in order to look at you. “I’m just supposed to accept this?”

“I know it’s a lot to take in and it’s out of nowhere,” you began. “It only takes one time though. So yes, I am pregnant and you’re the father. I thought you deserved to know.”

“So does that mean you’re going to keep it?” He questioned and you nodded your head.

“Yes, I am.”

“I don’t think I can be a father right now Y/N,” he sighed, resuming his pacing. “I just graduated from university and I’m up to my eyeballs in fucking debt that I only just started paying back and I’m only 23! I can’t be anyone’s father at 23!”

“Look, you don’t have to be involved,” you said and he stopped in his tracks. “I only came here to tell you. I can raise the baby on my own if I have to.”

“And what, I’m left to be the big bad guy who isn’t in his own kid’s life?”

“Any decision that you make going forward is your own,” you told him. “I didn’t want you to find out somewhere else because I am going to have to go public with my pregnancy eventually, and I didn’t want to keep the baby from you if you did want to be involved. I just wanted to tell you so that you could make an informed decision, that’s all.”

Just then, a door opened and Jin walked back into the living room.

“Hey Jungkook-ah, Taehyung said that he wants to go out for dinner so I canceled takeout, that ok?” Jin asked and it took Jungkook a few seconds to focus before he looked over at his hyung.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Jungkook agreed easily.

“I should get going,” you suddenly said, getting up from the couch and reaching into your purse, pulling out a card before walking over to Jungkook and handing it to him. “This has my number and the address of where I’m staying for the next few weeks on it. Take all of the time that you need to think things through and then let me know.”

“Alright,” he replied and you gave him a small, closed mouthed smile before walking to the front door and letting yourself out.

......................................

“Y/N’s pregnant,” Jungkook confessed, two bottles of soju deep into dinner, which caused both Jin’s and Taehyung’s eyes to widen. “And I’m the father.”

“Tennis legend Y/N L/N?” Taehyung asked for confirmation and Jungkook nodded.

“That one.”

“How the hell did you hook up with her?” Jin laughed.

“Met her at the French Open, we talked for a little bit, and then went back to my hotel room,” Jungkook replied. “I woke up the next morning and she was gone so I didn’t think much of it. It was just a one night stand, you know?”

“Is that why she showed up and why you’ve had a bottle of soju in your hands since we got here?” Jin wondered and Jungkook nodded again.

“Yep.”

“Well, are you gonna be involved?” Jin asked.

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, yelping when Jin reached over and smacked the back of his head.

“What the hell do you mean, you’re not sure?” Jin scoffed. “You can’t just have a child out in the world that you don’t know.”

“Wait hyung, just because Jungkook consented to sex doesn’t mean that he consented to having a baby,” Taehyung pointed out.

“He consented to the possibility of having a baby when he didn’t protect himself and wrap his dick up,” Jin shot back.

“Actually, I did but it broke,” Jungkook muttered before taking another gulp of soju. “It’s not like I don’t want to be there though. In fact, my first instinct is to call her and tell her that I’ll be there for whatever she needs.”

“What’s stopping you then?” Taehyung questioned.

“She’s just...she’s one of the biggest athletes in the world and she’s gonna go down in history as one of the greats while I’m just a 23 kid who doesn’t even know where my life is going. She has it all together and she doesn’t really need me. Hell, she might even be better off without me.”

“It’s not about if she needs you or not though, it’s about you being there for your child,” Jin told him.

“She said that she could raise the baby alone if she had to,” Jungkook mentioned.

“Just because she can, it doesn’t mean that she should have to,” Jin stated and for some reason, that sentence stuck with Jungkook as he swallowed down the rest of the soju that was in the bottle.

......................................

A few days after you showed up to his apartment, Jungkook couldn’t get you or the baby out of his mind. He never expected to be in this situation at only 23 years old but the more that he thought about it, he realized that he wasn’t completely...afraid of it like he first thought he was.

Sure, he somewhat freaked out when you first told him and then went into catatonic shock afterwards but the more that he thought about it, the easier it became for him to warm up to the idea.

Jungkook always wanted kids and even though the two of you weren’t married and weren’t a traditional couple by any means, he knew that you could be a good mother. You were determined, hardworking, and passionate and those were all qualities that he admired in a person. He figured that if he were going to have an unexpected baby with anyone, then why not it be you?

He was also a person that believed in fate and destiny. If he managed to get you pregnant despite the two of you using protection and you still chose the keep the baby even before knowing if Jungkook was going to be involved or not, it all had to be a part of some larger plan that neither of you were privy to.

In the end, that was the thought that he decided to put trust in and that led to him finding the card that you had given him, dialing your number.

“Hello?” You answered a little breathlessly.

“Y/N, it’s Jungkook,” he said. “Did I call at a bad time?”

“Not at all, I was hitting the ball around with my coach,” you chuckled. “That’s why I’m out of breath.”

“Ah ok,” he nodded. “Well, I just wanted to call you because I’ve been thinking a lot about you and the baby, and I’ve decided that I want to be involved in their life.”

“Really?” You gasped softly.

“Yeah. I mean, I can’t just let you raise them by yourself when you didn’t create them by yourself,” he sighed.

“I don’t want you to feel forced though, Jungkook,” you explained. “I know that this is a weird situation but I don’t want you to resent me or worse, the baby. I meant it when I said that I can do this own my own if need be.”

“Just because you can do it on your own, doesn’t mean that you should,” Jungkook pointed out, echoing what Jin had told him and you just smiled softly to yourself. “You’re gonna have to be patient with me though, because I don’t have the slightest idea of how this whole parenting thing goes.”

“That makes two of us,” you giggled. “But we’ll figure it out together, ok?”

“Alright,” he agreed.

“I have my first doctor’s appointment in three days, on Thursday and you are welcome to come if you want,” you offered.

“You haven’t had a doctor’s appointment yet?”

“I couldn’t get one in the States before I had to leave to come here for the Open so I just figured that I’d wait,” you told him.

“Oh ok. Well, yeah,” he replied. “I’d love to come.”

“Cool. I’ll text you the details, ok?”

“Ok. Bye Y/N,” he said.

“Bye Jungkook,” you smiled before hanging up the phone. As Jungkook pulled his phone away from his ear, he couldn’t help but to feel oddly at ease about the whole situation. He felt deep down that everything would be ok, and he just hoped that it actually turned out that way as well.

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loousir · 3 years ago

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[Merman] From a Distance

Popular Octomer Male x Photographer Male Reader Part One

Cassian

Warnings: Octoboy flirting

•︎☆×【Ｐｒｉｄｅ】×☆•

2 of 7 The Seven Sins Series

Masterlist | Part Two | Part Three

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

*Click*

The snap of a camera lense sounded as you took one of soon to be many pictures. The breeze blew gently, ruffling your clothes and getting some loose strands of hair in your face. Even though it was early in the morning, the coast line shops were pretty busy. You walked down the street, snapping the occasional picture here and there.

"Oh, um, excuse me!"

A shy voice called out. You turned back to see a short brunette with soft freckles littering their face. "Were you calling for me?" They nod as they stop in front of you. "Yes, s-sorry for stopping you but... Are you a photographer by chance?" They asked softly. You smiled a little and nodded. "Yeah. Need me to take pictures of something?" You asked with a small laugh which made the other smile.

"Actually, yes. Our photographer cancled last minute and we have a shoot in 10." They started to get a little frantic, trying to convince you to take photos for them but just the chance to take pictures had you hooked. "I can take them. And if we need underwater shots I can do those. The camera's Mer-tech and I was planning to do some later."

You smiled more and the other was beaming. They grabbed your hand and shook it. "You're perfect!! Thank you so much! I'll pay you double for this!" They said before pulling you towards where their photo shoot was.

"Hold on a second." You said as you readied your camera. The other looked back at you, about to ask what was wrong when you took a few pictures of them. They seemed shocked and a blush covered their face. "Sorry, we can keep going." Their blush didn't let up but they kept a hold of your hand none the less.

The photo spot was a beautiful cove cave that was one in a million. Your photographer instinct kicked in and you saw so many photo opportunities as you walked deeper into the cove's cave. "Is this where we're taking photos?" You asked as they let go of your hand. They nodded. "Yeah, have you ever worked with a Mer before?" You shook your head when they looked back at you.

"We're taking photos of a Caribbean Reef Octomer for the Mid-Human Monthly. He's gonna be on the cover page and have two dedicated to him so we need a few different pictures." Your eyes widened slightly and you nodded. 'He must be impressive then...' You thought to yourself.

A few moments had past which let you get introduced to the crew that you would be working with. A blonde pygmy satyr woman came up to you and slapped a hand on your shoulder making you jump slightly. "So you're our new camera guy." Her accent gave away that she was from the south. You nod and she has a grin on her face for a moment before getting semi-serious.

"Can I see some of your pictures." "Oh, yeah," You said pulling out your phone and opening up your "portfolio" folder. "I can also show some of the ones I took today." She scrolls through the pictures and has an impressed look on her face. "These are really well edited." She commented as you pulled up some of the pictures on your camera. "Oh they're not edited or anything yet. That's just the camera and some setting tweaks." You mumbled out mindlessly while scrolling to the cameras gallery.

She looked back up to you and you looked to her. "You got these pictures, with that camera?" You nodded and showed her some other pictures but also the best one that you took of the one who recruited you to be a stand in photographer. "I'll be damned. It really is unedited." She hands you back your phone and you close out the gallery app before turning it off and slipping it back in your pocket. "I look forward to working with you and depending how this shoot goes, working with you in the future." Your eyes widened slightly as you shook her extended hand.

"Well I sure hope it goes great then!" You said as she guided you over to the deep pool in the middle of the cove. There was a deep river/crevass that lead out to the open ocean which allowed merfolk to make their way in here as well. "Do you have a change of swim clothes in that bag?" She asked, referring to the bag over your shoulder. "Actually, yeah, I do. I was planning on going under the pier later today. Is there somewhere I can change my shorts?" She nods and motions towards a familiar nb brunette who was fiddling with some papers. "Dakota can take you over to our temp makeup room. It'll give you some privacy to change."

You nodded and thanked her before walking over to the other who you now knew as Dakota. They looked up to you when they heard your footsteps crunching against the gravely ground. "Oh, um, hi." They still seemed nervous from when you took their picture. "Could you show me where your makeup room is? I'm gonna change so I can take pictures." They blushed softly and nodded, leading you over to a curtained, box like structure. "I'll wait outside so no one comes in." They said softly as you stepped into the box.

"Thank you, Datoka." You said as you disappeared behind the curtains. After a few minutes you re-emerged and walked over to Dakota. "Could I also ask you to watch my stuff?" They looked up to you and nodded. You bowed slightly out of habit and thanked them before going over to the director. "I'm ready when our model is." You said, holding your camera close. She nodded and motioned for someone else to come over before walking off to do something.

A tall guy with what looked like a bottle of alcohol came over to you and cautiously poured a glass. "Don't worry, it's not what you're thinking. It's so you can go take pictures easily without drowning. I'll drink some too of your worried about it." You looked at the glass he was holding out to you. It was a light blue drink with some bubbles in it. It looked and smelled like some sort of tropical soda drink.

"Plus we are a professional company, we have rules and regulations to follow regarding things like this. But once you drink up and sign these papers," He said while handing you two pages and a pen, "You'll be ready to go get started with Cassian. He should be here..." He said, dragging his words a bit as he looked around the water. You scanned over the information and it was a simple agreement term for taking the potion.

After confirming there was no sketchy things, you signed and drank the potion. It was like a tropical drink.

Before you knew it, right when you had handed the stuff back, a tan muscular torso with long blonde hair, breached the surface not too far in front of you. You watched as he brushed the lose, wet hair from his face, making a few people in the crowd blush.

'Lucky bastard. He's one of those guys that can do anything and make it look hot.'

You thought to yourself before the guy standing next to you started to talk. "You'll be good for about 6 hours and you'll be able to communicate like on land. Oh also, that, is Cassian." He said, referring to the blonde that you were looking at. Cassian was making casual conversation with some of the group before the same Satyr lady came and talked with him.

You watched for a moment longer before the two blondes looked over to you, making your heart jump slightly. Before you knew it, the tall guy had left your side and the blondes were making their way over to you. You walked a little to meet them halfway.

"I don't think I properly introduced myself!" She said looking up to you. "I'm Siv Penningfon. I mostly do freelance director work for Mid-Human Monthly." You bowed to her slightly. "(Y/n) (L/n), I just moved here but I do freelance photography. If it's a gig that pays I'll take it." You said with a small laugh, making her smile more.

"Of course we can't forget who we're here to take picture of. This is Cassian. I'm sure Dakota told you about him so I'll spare you the details." You smiled, laughed, and nodded before walking over to Cassian to shake his hand. His hands were strong and callous, clearly saying he did some sort of physical work. "Nice to meet you, (Y/n)." He said with a soft smirk. You instantly knew what he was playing at and simply brushed it off with a soft smile and nod.

'I know how to play that game Cassian. Don't go getting full of yourself now.'

"Right! I do believe you are ready to go take pictures right?" You nodded again as you pulled your hand away from Cassian's and looked back to Siv. "Yeah, where are we gonna go first?" Siv thinks for a moment. "I have some spots but it's still a bit early for them. How about you pick the first spot?"

Your eyes lit up, knowing the perfect place for an early morning picture. "Yes! I know somewhere."

A few moments had passed of you leading the other two over to a place near the entrance of the cove. "The way that the sun shines through the water is perfect. It'll frame his figure nicely and offer an enhancement to his already strong contrast to the waters colour." You mumbled out to yourself before stepping into the water. "Well, I'll let you get to work. You've got an hour in this spot but if you're done before then, we can move on." You nodded to Siv before going under.

It was a weird sensation. You hesitantly took a breath, not inhaling water but oxygen. Carefully, you got used to this whole underwater breathing thing before swimming over to Cassian who was messing around with the kelp. You snapped a few pictures of him as he was distracted by something on the floor before noticing you and looking up, half smirking, showing off his sharp canines. You took some more pictures of his little show before guiding him on what you wanted for the pictures.

'For being so full of himself, he listens well. Kinda shocking.'

Cassian looks to his left, holding out his hand as if to hold some of the sun's rays. His hair was floating beautifully around him, the sun framing his facial structure. You snapped a bunch of pictures of him as he continued to pose. You stopped for a moment to mess with some of the camera settings and Cassian saw this as an opportunity to mess with you. He carefully made his way over to you, gently wrapping one of his tentacles around your ankle.

You looked down to his tentacle before looking at his octopus half. It was gorgeous. The way it faded from his tan skin into a much darker brown that steadily spotted and faded out into a bright blue that still held heavy contrast to the more greenish blue water behind him. His tentacle slowly moved up your leg to your thigh but before it could get any further you slapped it away, looking up to him unamused. "Let's maybe wait until we arent working anymore." You said to him with a small wink before going back to what you were doing. Cassian blushed softly and pulled his tentacle back close to his body.

The two of you were under the water for the rest of your hour time limit, racking up hundreds of pictures before you decided to head back up to the surface, Cassian following you. Once you got to the sunny surface, you moved your hair from your face and looked around. You weren't too far from the cove, being on the outside of it just past the entrance on the opposite side of the first photo spot. "I just noticed, I don't think you've even said anything to me since we met." He shrugged and thought for a moment. "I guess I haven't. Not much to say I suppose."

Right as he finished his words, Siv came over to the both of you to show the spot she was talking about. "Cas, if you need a private area I can get you one." Cassian shakes his head. "Don't worry about it, just give me a few and I'll meet you over there." He said, knowing which spot she was talking about. You followed Siv over to a small, foliage covered area. You were confused as there was nothing more than a small pond that Cassian would definitely overflow. Siv seemingly noticed your confusion and decided it might be a good idea to explain the situation. "Cassian is one of the lucky mer-folk that can shift. So he should be getting changed and heading over here soon." You nodded your head and messed with the camera settings again.

A few moments had passed by and a quite tall, yet familiar blonde came over to the two of you wearing a white button-up shirt that had the top three buttons undone, a slim pair of nice dress pants, and a pair of simple leather slip-on dress shoes. His hair was still loose but he had a hair tie around his wrist. "Good lords." You mumbled under your breath before looking away with a blush. Siv seemed to have heard you as she gently pat your back. "This is the last spot unless you wanna take some more pictures. I'm sure the two of you got more than enough pictures while you were under." You smiled and nodded.

"I'd say that's up to Cassian. If he wants to take more pictures somewhere else then I would be down to do it." You said turning back to look at him, only to lock eyes with his bright blue ones. Cassian smiles. "I can't think of anywhere off the top of my head, but if I do think of somewhere while we're taking pictures, I'll let you know." You nodded and looked back to Siv who waved to the both of you as she walked away to leave the two of you to synergize.

He looks at you with furrowed brows for a moment before asking. "Why didn't you change?" You looked up to him and responded, "I'm gonna dry off before I change. I kinda have to put these back in my bag and I don't wanna do that if their wet." Cassian nods and hesitates to say something before changing his mind and not saying it. "Let's go over to the gazebo first."

You followed him over to the gazebo where the two of you took many pictures before moving on to some other spots. After 30 or so minutes, Cassian had stood up and walked over to you. "Are you not wearing sunblock?" He asked, looking at your shoulders. "I was but I guess I have to reapply."

"Well how about you sit in the shade and I go grab a shirt and some water for you." He said with a handsome smirk. You smiled cheekily back to him as you sat in the shade before watching him walk off. A few moments later he returned with a seemingly large shirt and two bottles of water. "Dakota was being protective over your bag so I just grabbed one of my shirts." You nodded as he handed you the sunscreen he pulled from his pocket and the water.

"Do you need help putting the sunscreen on?" You thought for a moment before shyly nodding. "I would appreciate it... I put it on before I left this morning but apparently it wasn't very well done..." He smiles and takes the sunblock back. You sat down on a rock nearby and he popped the cap and put some on his hand before asking you to hold the bottle for him.

He started with your arms, going shoulder to wrist. His hands, though calloused, were soft in rubbing the sunscreen into you skin. You blushed as he continued on and put some on your face, starting from your forehead and moving down. His hands cupped your cheeks, rubbing gently under your closed eyes. "Can I tell you something?" He asked quietly.

You looked up to him and tilted your head slightly. You may have only known him for a few hours but the fact that the confidence he carried so boldly had disappeared had you confused. "Is it odd to say I've never felt this way before? I've never had anyone treat me the way you have." You furrowed your brows after he said that. "What do you mean?"

Cassian shakes his head. "Sorry... I don't know what I'm saying." You didn't press him any farther so you decide to just nod and let him do as he pleased. He put on a smile and said, "Let's keep taking pictures after you put the shirt on." You nodded and slipped the shirt on as he drank from his water bottle. The shirt was much bigger than your frame, going down to about your mid thigh.

The two of you continued the photoshoot without incident. About another hour passed before Siv came to grab the both of you. "That's just about all the time we have for now. Cas, you've got some interviews as well soon. And (Y/n), I'll have you go over some documents for both pay and legal permissions. I'll let you head back on your own but just be back before the hour is over." Both of you nodded and you looked up to Cassian. "Hey Cas?" He looked down to you, cheeks flushing slightly when he did.

"Would you wanna come to the festival this weekend?"

---

3050 not proof read

#monster x male reader #male monster x reader #x male reader #monster male #monster male x male reader #mxm #m4m #octomer x male reader #merman x male reader

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

Text

Perfectly Fine

Prompt: Hi! I would love to read something from you featuring asexual Remus! - anon

it is project onto fictional characters hour my dudes

Read on Ao3

Warnings: discussions of the reality of being a sex-repulsed ace in a very allo world, nothing explicit

Pairings: none you heathens

Word Count: 1358

It takes them longer to figure it out than it should have and honestly, that’s on them.

But Remus is Remus, and that's perfectly fine.

It takes them longer to figure it out than it should have and honestly, that’s on them.

So it’s no secret that Remus’s particular sense of humor is equally as derived from what he finds funny and what makes the others the most uncomfortable. Logan did an analysis of it once and the results were 49%-51%. Which one is which varies but the quantities are incredibly consistent.

The trick is figuring out that the balance applies to Remus too.

And sure, the idea of Remus being uncomfortable is…difficult to remember sometimes, given that, you know, he’s Remus, but it’s there! It’s worth remembering! He’s a Side too! But considering his metric for ‘uncomfortable’ is wildly different from everyone else’s, it’s easy for them to overlook it. Maybe he gets some excitement out of grossing himself out too, maybe there’s a sick thrill in seeing just how close he can get himself to vomiting, honestly, who knows. Remus is Remus and that’s perfectly fine.

So here’s the big one that, again, took them way too long to figure out.

Remus is asexual. Not just asexual, sex-repulsed asexual.

Let’s reiterate: Remus is Remus and that’s perfectly fine.

It just…took them by surprise, is all.

“Wait,” Logan says, adjusting his glasses, “you’re asexual?”

“Those are the words I used,” Remus says, his head hanging off the couch.

“I—I heard you, I am…simply surprised,” Logan settles on, closing his notebook and setting it aside. “I would not have guessed that Thomas’s Sides would have different sexualities or romantic orientations.”

“What does it matter, Pocket Protector?”

“It doesn’t, it’s interesting to me.”

“Does that mean that all of us could potentially have different sexualities?” Patton’s head pokes above the counter as he digs for the good muffin tray—not the one Janus swiped three hours ago, of course not—in the cabinets. “Or no?”

Logan shrugs. “I imagine it would be possible, though I find it likely that at least some of us share Thomas’s.”

“My ears are burning,” Roman announces, plopping onto the couch next to his brother, “what incredibly gay thing are we talking about now?”

“Yeesh, Princey,” Virgil mutters, recovering from flinching horribly into the chair, “don’t do that, you scared the hell outta me.”

“Sorry, Virgil.” Roman taps Remus’s leg, hanging up over the back of the couch next to his head. “Why’re you upside-down?”

“Why’re you right-side up?”

“Remus…prompted a discussion on sexualities,” Logan says carefully, sparing a glance at Remus, “and we were debating the question of if we, as Thomas’s Sides, all have different sexualities.”

Remus kicks Roman in the head. “Told them I’m ace.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.”

“Really, and here I thought Remus beginning a complex introspective conversation was the height of character accuracy.”

“Payback,” Virgil sniggers as Roman startles horribly as Janus appears from behind the couch. “All jokes aside, I’m with L, I, uh, didn’t expect Remus to be ace.”

“Why not?”

Janus scoffs. “Couldn’t be the number of sex jokes you make on a daily basis, not at all.”

Remus shrugs.

“I think it’s just surprising considering how comfortable you are making the jokes, kiddo.”

“The fuck makes you think I’m comfortable with them?”

“Lang—what?” Patton’s head pops up again.

“A wild Patton appears!”

“Has Thomas…ever been interested in Pokémon?”

“What do you mean, comfortable?” Patton tilts his head, focused entirely on Remus and not the others making Pokémon jokes. “Are—are you not comfortable?”

“Remus isn’t exactly known for his ‘comfortable’ sense of humor, Padre,” Roman says, leaning back on the couch to make eye contact around Remus’s legs.

“But—but that—hold on.” Patton stands up—“ah! More Wild Patton!”—and puts his hands on the counter. “Remus, why would you make jokes that make you uncomfortable?”

Remus eyes him from upside-down. “Why does anyone do anything?”

“Sheer, absolute boredom, yeah, yeah, we get it,” Virgil sighs, “but it’s a good question, Remus.”

Remus just shrugs, only for it to dislodge him from his precarious position and slide toward the floor. Roman watches him collapse into a graceless heap and rolls his eyes, lying down on the couch.

“Hey! You stole my spot!”

“You’re the one who moved. Hey—!” Roman squawks in surprise as Remus throws himself on top of him. “You’re squishing me!”

“Too bad for you.”

“Remus,” Janus says softly, “are you…does sex make you uncomfortable?”

“Like maggots are crawling through my bones!”

The living room is quiet for a moment, enough to make Remus push himself up and stare around at them.

“What?”

“Sex isn’t something shameful, Remus,” Patton says patiently—and wow, isn’t that a surprise— “I promise.”

Remus rolls his eyes. “I know that, it just makes me want to rip all of my skin off and start over.”

“Why?”

“It’s bad enough I have to live in this meat sack,” he grouses, flopping back down and eliciting a soft ‘oof’ from Roman, “don’t need to be consciously reminded of it.”

“...‘meat sack?’”

“Oh, sorry, Lolo, ‘flexible container of mostly water.’”

“That’s not—well, yes, I suppose that is more accurate,” Logan says as he adjusts his tie, “but why would you choose to refer to your body as a meat sack?”

Remus shrugs. “’S not like I’d choose to be in this fucking thing. Evolution fucked up when it made us this way, at least we aren’t fucking horses. Oh, hey—“

“No,” Roman interrupts, “no jokes about that.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Remus?”

“What do you want, Snake-Face?”

“Are you…uncomfortable with your body?”

“Every day! It’s awful! I wish I didn’t have one!” At Janus’s muffled noise of heartbreak, Remus cranes his neck to look up at him. “Oh, relax, I’m fine, discomfort is part of my existence.”

“But it shouldn’t have to be.”

Remus huffs a sigh when he realizes that everyone else is looking at him with a similar amount of concern. Well, except Roman, but Roman gets it so that makes sense.

“I may or may not be being slightly dramatic, I am fine.”

“Can confirm,” Roman hums lazily, “comes with the Creativity gig.”

“Look, I just don’t like that it’s—it’s—“ Remus’s gaze lands on Patton— “look, Cookie Monster over there is allergic to cats, right?”

Logan frowns, glancing back and forth between them. “Yes, what does—“

“He’s not gonna die from it and he can still be around them, he’s just hyperaware of when there are cats and he can’t spend a lot of time around them without being really uncomfortable, right?”

Logan blinks in surprise. “Yes, I understand what you’re saying. Very clever analogy.”

“I am Creativity, you nitwit.”

He rolls his eyes fondly. “Of course.”

“So,” Virgil says cautiously, waving a hand at him, “you’re…good?”

“Yep. Goody-goody gumdrops, that’s me.”

“As long as you never say that again, fine.”

Roman gives him a hug. “I’m proud of you, Re, coming out is hard. Especially when you have to give people a vocabulary lesson when you do it.”

“Thanks, Ro-Bro.” Remus’s grin widens. “Does that mean I get to pick the movie for tonight?”

“What? No! It’s my pick! Hey! Hey!” Roman squeals as Remus starts to poke his belly. “Don’t! Dohohon’t!”

“Let me pick!”

“No!”

“Boys,” Janus sighs, reaching out and using his six arms to separate the twins, “that’s enough. Roman, what movie are we watching?”

“Pacific Rim.”

“Hey, wait, that’s what I was gonna pick!”

“See? There you go.”

Logan perks up immediately. “Does this mean we finally get to watch a movie with no romantic subplot?”

“And batshit physics.”

“We can overlook the batshit physics.”

“Whoa, L, what happened to you?”

“I…may have a greater appreciation for the cinematic depictions of the machinery.”

Patton just rolls his eyes and gets back to searching for the muffin pan. No movie night is complete without fresh baked goods. Ah, there it is, although he could’ve sworn he looked there a few moments ago…

Anyway, they end the conversation in the same place it started.

Remus is Remus, and that’s perfectly fine.

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#dragonbabbles #fic #sanders sides #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #ace #asexual #asexuality #sex-repulsed asexual

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binxyu · 4 years ago

Text

He was obsessed with the beauty of colors. Even if he could not see them without you, he adored the way they showed up on his canvas. His biggest fear was losing them and, with that, you. Too bad his biggest fear came true...

>>Pairing: Park Seonghwa (dom) x fem!reader (sub) ft. Jung Wooyoung | artist!seonghwa x photographer!reader

>>Word Count: 4.9k

>>Genre: Mini Series / Requested / Smut & Angst

>>Warnings/Kinks: Begging, blood play, breast play, choking, creampie, cumplay, degrading, hair pulling, light bondage, marking, mess, mirrors, oral (giving + receiving), overstimulation, praise, scratching, size kink, spanking, spitting, unprotected sex, and voice kink

next part ->

The bitter sweet taste of your coffee hits your tongue as you look at the artwork, a vast array of architectural models, photographs, paintings, and sculptures greeting you as you walk into the museum.

You didn’t particularly like coffee. It’s primary purpose was to keep you awake from a long night of editing.

Your heels clinked against the tile and you waited for your boyfriend with a smile, his sluggish steps only making you giggle. You knew he hated this type of thing but he did like you so he was going to get through it.

“You really didn’t have to come”, Wooyoung pecked your lips and shook his head. You knew he’d answer the same way he always did.

“I wanted to. You always look so happy here”.

Bingo.

Sometimes you wished Wooyoung had something else to comment back. That he would describe the colors of everything to you since you’ve never seen them or say how beautiful and unique the abstract art was. Anything else but that he did it to make you happy.

Lots of people questioned your interest in the arts when you couldn’t even see the colors. Why choose it as a career? Why spend so much time staring at black and white filled frames?

Well, you always knew you’d meet the person to introduce those colors one day. That and the fact that, even in dull black and white, you could still admire the technique and beauty of the art.

You always had an eye for detail and could tell if anything had changed on your favorite pieces, even the smallest drop of ink from an employee’s pen. That’s why you stayed awake on most nights, dwelling over the smallest imperfections in your photography.

All of your photos were black and white and you supposed you had chosen that to show that the world was beautiful. Beautiful even in only two shades.

“I’ll be back. I’m going to go to the bathroom”, you nodded and watched as your boyfriend walked away. You took another hesitant sip of the coffee, cringing at the taste but it seemed to disappear as you noticed a new painting on display.

Your head tilted as you admired it. It was definitely unique, an organized mess, and you had to assume it was meant to be abstract. Your eyes lingered to the signature in the corner, small but neat.

“PS?”, your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to rack your brain for any recognition of the initials. You found none.

“Park Seonghwa. He’s a new artist I’ve heard”, you didn’t respond to the man behind you, only staring at the painting as an attempt to figure out the meaning behind it.

“Is he any good?”, the man behind you chuckled at the question and you heard his footsteps approach, standing beside you to stare at the painting too.

“Not sure. Why don’t you tell me?”, the question had you humming in thought, sipping your drink as you analyzed the art.

“Well, I can’t comment on color but the landscape is a masterpiece. It’s symbolic of the chaos of the world. However, I don’t believe it goes with the contrast of the sky. It’s too... calm”, you finished, finally finding the right words to say your opinion.

“You do realize most people only come here to stare and act smart, right? You actually seem interested”, you smiled at the man’s comment and raised an eyebrow, “what do you think the artist should do to make it better?”.

“I’d work on the sky more. Draw the painting together with something more related to the message. If you’re doing chaos you might as well go all out, right?”, you laughed a little and looked to your side when you felt a familiar presence there.

“What’s wrong, baby?”, you didn’t see but you addressing Wooyoung that way had the stranger frowning in disappoint. You hadn’t even given him a glance.

“Work. They said it’s urgent”, you frowned too, not having been able to see the rest of the new works, “you can stay. I just have to go” you shook your head and held his hand in your’s.

“No, I’ll go with you. I can always come back tomorrow”, you gave him your most reassuring smile you could muster and walked beside him out of the museum, too focused on the memory of that painting to hear the question of the stranger. He only wanted to know your name.

Like promised, you did come back the next day. The only difference was that you did not spend the whole time staring at that painting to try to figure out it’s deepest secrets. You looked at everything else first.

A different painting had caught your attention. Well, originally thought to be different.

The longer you seemed to stare at it, the more familiar it became.

It all became clear when you looked at the signature in the corner.

“PS”, you mumbled and you looked over the painting again. It was eerily similar to his last painting but it was perfect.

A slightly different landscape but a sky full of delightfully done destruction.

“He really outdid himself”, you smiled, but then you realized.

“I did, huh?”, this time you did turn to look at the man, admiring his side profile. He was attractive. Actually, attractive was an understatement.

“You’re Park Seonghwa?”, you were a little taken aback, never having seen one of the artists actually in the museum looking at their work. Much less asking strangers for their opinions of it.

“Yeah. Amateur artist”, he chuckled and shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. Everything about him did scream struggling artist. From the vivid patches of paint on his whitewashed jeans to the array of pens sticking out of his pocket.

His work, however, screamed the opposite.

“Your work doesn’t show it”, you shook your head as you looked back at the painting, admiring how he had taken your advice to heart.

“Thank you”, you took the time of those words to listen intently to the gracefulness of his voice. Everything about him was some form of art. Perfectly made.

“I’m y/n, amateur photographer”, he let out a small snicker at that and you turned your head to look at him.

“Sorry- it’s just funny that we’re both amateur-“, his words were cut off as he locked eyes with you. The world seemed to freeze as color suddenly flooded it, filling the museum with so much vibrancy that you had to squeeze your eyes shut. It was overwhelming.

“Amateur soulmates?”, you joked half-hearteningly as you opened your eyes again, slowly taking in the world around you. Seonghwa was doing the same, looking at every piece of art in such a new light. A new light in a world full of darkness.

“Seems like it”, he nods, looking at his own work. It was the only one still familiar, made entirely of black and white oil paints. That was the world you had both been in for so long.

“Shit”, you cursed without realizing, finally piecing it together in your mind that this was your soulmate. Not Wooyoung. It was never Wooyoung.

“What? Aren’t you supposed to be happy? Look at it all!”, Seonghwa waved around the room and, you did have to admit, it was breathtaking. All you wanted to do was stare at it all for hours. Take in every new detail imaginable.

“Remember my boyfriend?”, your words were like a slap, an awakening call to a once extraordinary moment.

“Yeah, I suppose you’ll have to tell him”, for some reason that pissed you off. Why wouldn’t you tell Wooyoung? You had to. You weren’t just going to ghost him.

“What? Do you expect me to just ghost him?”, your arms crossed across your chest and you lowered your gaze, finding it too much to finally see someone’s face in full color and gloriousness. The familiar black and white greeted you as you stared at your shoes.

“No. Definitely not. I just... assumed you’d be as excited as I am. That’s all”, oh how correct he was. You were beyond excited. You could finally see the world in all its shades and textures with someone that wanted that too.

“I am! I really am, Seonghwa. I need time is all”, his eyes lit up at that and you admired them. It was cute how they widened. The warm color of them almost drawing you in, an invitation to run away with him. To create the most beautiful art with him.

“Keep coming back and I’ll be here. I’ll wait”, you nodded when you noticed his hand hovering over your’s. He smiled softly and took it into his, squeezing it and you felt engulfed with warmth and comfort.

“Till next time then amateur. I’ll look at your photo so you can paint with color”, the artist chuckled and shook his head, already knowing that wasn’t going to work. He liked the intuitive though.

“Bye my amateur soulmate”, your heart seemed to swell in your chest in an almost painful way. You found yourself almost forgetting Wooyoung even existed and that... that was an awful realization.

“You told him?”, the artist asked as he painted, delicately applying the brush where he deemed necessary. You weren’t sure what he was painting, his easel turned away from you and towards him.

“Yeah, we agreed to just stay friends. I think we were already falling out of love anyways”, Seonghwa’s eyebrows furrowed at that and he looked back at you. Color flooded your world like it always did when he looked at you, but it still caught you off guard each time.

“Why do you say that?”, you kicked your legs back and forth softly as you sat on the counter, the question clouding your mind as you racked up an answer.

“We didn’t really have common interests. I was into art while he was more a business man”, Seonghwa nodded and looked back at his work, making the world go dull again. You hated that. You wished all the colors would just stay so you could see him in all his glory all the time.

“Wait- can you look here again?”, your request was quiet and shy, but the man did hear you. He looked back up at you and you let out a sigh of relief as you got to see the beauty of the room again. His art was hung up all over the walls and you just loved to look at it, examine it.

“You know... I’ve never seen your photography”, Seonghwa thought out loud as he looked at you. He hid one of his hands behind his back and walked over to you.

“Want to see? I have some of the photos saved on my phone”, you started to dig in your purse for your phone but you felt a cold sensation on your cheek, making your head whirl around to look at the man.

“You- you did not just smear paint on my cheek”, the artist gave you an innocent smile as an answer and it was all you needed to jump off the counter and start running for the paint buckets.

Colors flew around the room as you both threw the paint at one another. The both of you ended up looking like living abstract artwork by the time you ran out of paint.

“This is not comfortable”, Seonghwa laughed at your comment as his eyes trailed down your body. The wet paint stuck to your body and he respectfully looked away, not wanted to look somewhere that would make you uncomfortable.

“You can look at your mess”, you giggled as you tried to wipe away the bubblegum pink on your cheek that was way too close to your mouth for your comfort. The artist had some good aim.

Your words made him swoon. Your mess.

“My beautiful mess”, your cheeks went redder than the paint on your chest and Seonghwa chuckled, loving the sight of your flush. This time, his eyes admired your body fully. How the palette of colors contrasted to your skin, how your eyes lit up as you looked at him, and how your wet clothes clinged to your body.

“Can I?”, you nodded, loving that he always asked first before he did anything. You were both new to the emotions that filled you when you were together.

His large hands rested on your waist and then traveled downwards to rest on your hips, memorizing every curve as if you were the most complicated sculpture he had ever seen.

“Can I?”, you repeated the question as you eyed the lewd sight of his bare chest showing through his flimsy shirt. He nodded, his eyes never leaving your body. Your own hands went to his chest, ghosting over his nipples before they arrived at his stomach.

“Do you work out?”, the muscle beneath your fingers was hard to ignore and so was the way Seonghwa’s hands had trailed up to cup your breasts, feeling how your nipples got harder from just that feeling.

“Yeah, I do sometimes”, you wondered why he gave you such a blunt answer but then you realized he was staring at your face now. Well, more specifically your lips.

“Creative and athletic. Anything else I should know to keep me attached to you?”, Seonghwa shook his head and you finally connected your lips together. His lips were soft and plump. They felt so perfect against your own and your bodies pressed together in such a feverous way that you worried your legs would give out underneath you.

His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him, rubbing his crotch against your core. The heat ran through your veins all the way to your thighs, soaking the skin there with arousal.

“How about we make use of this paint?”, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before your eyes followed where Seonghwa was staring, finding a lone canvas in the corner of the room. It was huge and your mind seemed to click with the artist’s as the same idea pops in your head.

“We’re definitely not selling this”, Seonghwa laughed and nodded in agreement, his hands gripped the hem of your shirt and pulled it up over your head. He wasn’t surprised to find no bra underneath. You were adamant about the fact that if you didn’t have to then you wouldn’t.

“Oh yeah, most definitely not. This is all mine”, his hands gripped your ass and you jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist tightly and your arms around his neck. He was so intoxicating and your body ached for me, wanting nothing more than to be used by him.

“All your’s”, you nodded and connected your lips again, tasting your own distinct coffee on them. This time, however, you didn’t cringe at the taste. On his lips, it felt right. Bitter and sweet.

Seonghwa used his feet to maneuver the canvas, causing it to lay flat on the tilt. It was inviting, calling out to be covered in the love, chaos, and art your two bodies could make together.

He laid you back onto it, your back already applying a variety of colors to the canvas. Your silhouette would definitely be the most distinct shape in the painting.

“It’s already a masterpiece”, the artist hovered above you, adoring your rosy cheeks and the way your body perfectly fits on the canvas. He would never forget how you looked in this moment.

You noticed how his fingers were playing with the waistband of your skirt and you gently gripped his wrist to stop him. He looked up at you like you had just told him off.

“You can have me. Take me, baby”, his expression immediately relaxed and he leaned up to kiss you, his tongue exploring your mouth as his fingers trailed up underneath the skirt. It was ticklish and slow, a teasing game you knew he was playing.

“Oh come on. Don’t be a fucking tease”, you smiled against his lips and he pulled your panties to the side, trailing his finger up your slit. He pulled it away and you whined from the loss of contact, but that whine was cut short when you watched him like your juices off his fingers in the most lewd way. He sucked on his digit as he maintained eye contact with you, moaning as your taste coated his tongue.

“You’re delicious”, his eyes were blown out with lust and another wave of arousal went to your core at the sight. Seonghwa’s hands gripped your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the canvas, making you yelp before his head was buried under your skirt. His tongue circled around your drenched pussy and your hand immediately found solace in his dark hair, watching as the bright orange paint on his hands spread on your thighs.

“Please, Seonghwa. I need you”, you tugged on his hair, shivers going up your spine from the wet paint and the feeling of the artist’s cold breath so close to where you need him most.

He doesn’t need to be told twice as he plunges his tongue into your cunt, swirling it around to hit your walls as his finger works magic on your clit, rubbing it in figure-eight motions.

A sweet moan left your lips and your back arched, hands gripping the edge of the canvas behind you. You knew you were scratching up the canvas and leaving any color there on your hands, but nothing mattered at the moment except the pleasure Seonghwa was giving you.

Now your moans were his favorite sound, striving to hear more of them as he curled his tongue inside of you. You were absolutely ravishing. Perfect with every sound, smell, and taste.

“Fuck! I’m going to cum!”, your head rested back on the canvas as a knot began to form in your stomach, begging to be released. Seonghwa continued his pace until your love juices coated his tongue, an even more addicted taste entering his life.

He pulled away, spitted on your hole, and pushed his tongue right back in. Your legs began to shake from the overstimulation as the man mercilessly lapped at your pussy, wanting every last drop of your delicious cum in his mouth.

“You might just be my favorite food now”, your tongue poked your inner cheek in annoyance when you saw his teasing smirk appear, no longer hidden beneath your skirt.

“Might be?”, you scoffed playfully as you tried to calm down from your orgasm. Seonghwa chuckled mischievously and kissed you, the taste of your own release welcoming you and you moaned into his mouth.

“Definitely are”, he corrected himself and you smiled proudly as Seonghwa’s hands tugged your skirt off and he threw the fabric to the side.

“Hold on, I can’t be the only one naked here”, you stopped him with a hand on his chest before he could remove your panties. You sat up and looked him in the eye as you unzipped his jeans painfully slow, feeling his erection grow harder beneath your hands.

You gasped when his hands suddenly gripped your hair and pulled your head back, the sting making your head hurt momentarily. Seonghwa held your hair in a tight grip to keep you still as he removed his jeans and boxers himself, the clothing joining your own in the corner of the room.

“Just for that you’ll return the favor, doll”, he pulled you up by your hair onto your knees, the paint on the canvas sticking to your calves as you eyed his erection. Your mouth practically watered at the sight of his angry cock begging for attention.

“Get to work”, it seemed like such a simple and innocent command but Seonghwa managed to make it sound like the most absurd phrase known to man. He forced your head to his cock by your hair and you opened your mouth like a puppet hanging by strings. Tears sprung up in your eyes as his tip hit the back of your throat and he stayed still to allow you to get used to his size.

You patted his thigh as a sign he could move. Seonghwa started to move your head back and forth by your hair and the sensation of your warm mouth wrapped around him caused him to let out a hefty groan. It was like music to your ears and you sped up, moving your head on your own now.

Your hands gripped the muscular flesh of Seonghwa’s thighs, scratching the smooth skin. You could feel blood start to stick to your fingertips and drip down onto the canvas, but it only soaked into the array of colors already there.

“You feel so good, baby. You want my cum?”, you desperately nodded your head as you looked up at him, locking eyes with his as he came down your throat. Your eyes closed shut as you swallowed him, a citrusy bitter taste exploding in your mouth.

“Pineapples?”, you smiled up at him after he took his dick out of your mouth. He laughed and nodded, running his fingers through your hair softly, a entirely different feeling from his grip there before.

“Mhm, addicting huh?”, the artist smiled and you nodded immediately, collecting some of the cum on your chin that had slipped out of your mouth. Seonghwa watched as you sucked on your fingers, igniting a new fire within him that wanted nothing more than to absolutely ruin you.

“Hands and knees”, you didn’t have to be told twice and you turned around to get in position like a trained bitch, your ass in the air and your back arched. The feeling of your bare nipples rubbing against the cold paint made another gush of wetness rush down your thighs.

“These panties are practically useless at this point”, Seonghwa’s lust-filled chuckle made a shiver run down your spine as he looked at how they just stuck to your folds and he pulled them down your legs. Silence filled the air as he admired you, gaze drifting all over your body and how ready you were to allow him to search it.

“Are you ready?”, his tone was soft as he looked down at you, waiting patiently and rubbing circles into your hips. You felt comfortable and safe with him, pushing your hips back to hear a low groan from him.

“Yes, I’m ready”, you nod and look back at him over your shoulder. He was happy to see you in all your glory again now that you were looking at him as he pushes himself into you, stretching you out deliciously. He watched as your eyes widened and the color within them darkened with lust.

“Loosen up, baby. I’m not even all the way in”, Seonghwa chuckled as you clenched around half of his length that was inside of you. You could’ve sworn that was what you normally took. How was he this big?

“Just relax, I’ve got you”, and you did as you were told, trying your best to relax your walls and allow him to stretch you the rest of the way. Your body shook in ecstasy as his tip caressed your cervix, finally all the way inside of you. You swear you can feel him in your stomach, looking down under you to see if that feeling was right. It was.

Right in your lower belly was the bulge where Seonghwa’s girth sat, waiting to destroy you as your body molds to accommodate for his size. Your legs were shaking and already threatening to close, a sight noticed by the artist.

“Hold on, princess. Hold them open for me”, you nodded as you finally began to adjust, feeling a little less overwhelmed. You felt the raw burn of a rope against your ankles and looked behind you again to see Seonghwa tying them to two cans of paint, keeping your legs widely spread for him.

“Much better”, he realized you were ready and started to move slowly in and out of you, knowing you were already overwhelmed. His hands trailed down to rest on your belly, feeling his bulge go in and out of that spot.

“Fuck, you have such a tiny cunt. I can’t wait to fill it up and see how much it swells up your tummy”, his words made you moan loudly, some tears running down your cheeks as you feel the warmth in your tummy. It was begging for you to release it, but you wanted nothing more than to have your own cum mix with Seonghwa’s inside of you. You waited.

Seonghwa gripped your hair and pulled your head back, watching your facial expressions in the reflection of a mirror across from the room. You were his good little whore. All his.

Every time the man snapped his hips against your ass, you could see paint flying off of you both in droplets onto the canvas below you. This was going to be Seonghwa’s way of having a constant reminder around that you are his.

His hand moved from your hair to your neck, squeezing the sides of it. The lack of air mixed with so much pleasure had your eyes rolling backwards, your mouth hung open as you desperately tried to hold back your orgasm.

“You’re such a good whore. Want to cum with me?”, you nodded embarrassingly quickly and he smirked sinisterly as he watched your body thrash against him. He pulled you back against his chest and thrusted up into you, planning to bury his seed as deep as he can inside of you. His arms wrapped around you to keep you still as you both came.

The warmth exploded into your body, coating your walls and cervix in white. You looked down as he pulled out and there was indeed a bump there where his cum stuck.

“Holy shit”, you wheezed once his hand was off your throat and he laughed before kissing all over your neck and shoulder. His hands occupied themselves with untying your ankles and you were thankful for it, the skin there swollen and red from the rope burn.

“Are you okay?”, Seonghwa asked softly as he looked down at the masterpiece you two had created together. Your body shape was imprinted as the background with drops everywhere of almost every color imaginable. It was gorgeous.

“Amazing”, you reassured and offered him a weak smile, wrapping your arms around him as your mixed cum leaked out of you and onto his thighs and the canvas. It just seemed to deep into the canvas too and replace the colors with what looked to be the white of the background.

“I’m definitely hanging this up in the lobby”, your hands immediately whacked his chest in protest and you shook your head.

“No you are fucking not”.

You stared gobsmacked at the sight of the painting in the lobby.

“You’re an asshole”, you huffed as you turned around to greet your soulmate. His hands wrapped around your waist and kissed you softly despite your sarcastic protests.

“I know. I’m your asshole though”, he smiled into the kiss and your heart felt off. It didn’t swell with joy like it usually did.

You opened your eyes after you pulled away and there was just dullness. No vibrant red walls. No blue sky outside. No abstract fucking painting.

Just black and white.

“What’s wrong?”, you looked at him and his own eyes looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening.

“Look away”, he gently ordered you and you nodded, turning your back to him.

“It’s back!”, he exclaimed and you excitingly turned around only to continue seeing black and white.

“Turn away”, this time he obeyed and color rushed into your world again, but it only made the world seem more broken.

“Seonghwa... it’s back. It only comes back when we see each other”, your heart broke as you realized what was happening.

Oh, fuck you universe.

“We have to choose. Color or each other”, you had heard of this happening before in an article but it was rare. Well, soulmates were rare as they were but this? This was rarer than most genetic illnesses.

“No, we can have both, baby”, he held your hands and squeezed them but you felt so empty now when you didn’t see the beautiful coffee brown that filled his eyes or the brightness of his teeth when he smiled.

“You’re an artist, Seonghwa. Your most popular works are in color now. You can’t let go of that”, you shook your head and stepped back, turning your head so you were no longer looking at him.

The sound of his familiar gasp as all the colors of life flooding his system only added to your despair. It was true.

“I love you. I’m sorry”, you left the studio before he could stop you, jogging outside to your car. You couldn’t deal with this. You wouldn’t let him give up his career for you.

“I love you too...”, he whispered as he watched you drive off, the screeching of the wheels making his body shake as tears ran down his face.

He’s realizing that without the colors, he was just the artist in love with chaos.

Without colors, maybe you don’t really love him.

Solemnly, Seonghwa turns back around and looks at the painting on the wall covered in the love you two made.

Then, he ripped it off the wall and tore it to shreds.

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levantea · 3 years ago

Text

Bachelor’s Button pt 2 | h.hyunjin

Pairing: art club president aka soulmate!hyunjin x photography club vice president aka soulmate!y/n

Genre: fluff, soulmate!au

Rating: PG

Warning: none

Word Count: 3.8k

Author’s note: this is the part 2! hopefully the story make sense haha i was worried if im overthinking… and i dont know why my story is getting longer as i have many ideas so im trying to make it flow! ><

Part 1! | Flower series navi🌷 | Masterlist 🦋

———————————————————————————

Later that night

Kakao: one message from 현🦋

who the hell is hyun?

You clicked open the application to see a message coming from an unfamiliar number. As you read the message, then you realise it is your partner for the collab who approached you.

“Hi y/n, i am Hyunjin, nice to meet you!” The text messaged shown. Maybe it is a girl’s habit, you added his contact first and roam around his profile pic. You thought you could see his face but all you saw was a drawing of a blue bachelor’s button, with his watermark below.

He must be very artistic, you praised internally.

“Hi, im y/n, nice to meet you too ~” you replied.

“Actually… before we start discussing, i want to apologise if i surprised or shocked you 1 week back, when i asked for your name… if you can still remember… i didn’t mean to appear rude or offensive, but i was just really curious about you, im sorry TT,” subsequently he sent 2 stickers to show his apology.

Initially when you read the message you were shock that how on earth did you got paired up with him but the initial bad impression did change for the better, slightly.

At least he apologised right?

“Ahh, its you, oh it’s okay haha, i felt abit uncomfy initially but thanks for letting me know, we are all good now?” You decided to forgo that incident as, you do not want to make any predetermined judgements before knowing one, as it may not turn out as what you thought. Furthermore you both will be working on this collab for 3 months, you wouldn’t want to build a bad rapport with him.

“Yes all good now! It’s 10pm, im sorry did i disturb you?” He replied courteously.

Add value to good impression.

“Nope, i just finish showering haha still got sometime before turning to bed.” You simply typed into the text box and wipe your hair with the towel covering your hair.

“Ohhh, okay! was thinking that maybe we should chit chat abit and get to know each other more first, before we proceed with the collab? would be nice if we can be friends :D”

Well, i guess making friends isn’t that bad right? Since i don’t have many guy friends as well…

“Yeap sure! *nodding sticker*” you replied.

Eventually you both chatted for 2 hours straight and you managed to know him more, and you realised he is definitely not as bad as you thought initially. He is very courteous in his replies and definitely not like those ‘popular’ guys who always try to flirt with every girls they see or trying to use pick up lines. Hyunjin is someone who is very down to earth and humble even though he is talented - he dances, he sings, he raps, he draws, he take nice photos, you name it he has it. He also shared with you his art pieces and not gonna lie, his works are fabulous.

“It’s kinda late, and i think we should go to bed soon, btw, do you want to meet up soon to discuss on where what we can do for our collab?”

“Yea sure, where and when?”

“Hmm, maybe in 2 days time? i end school at 1, how about you?”

“Just nice, i end at 1 as well, then shall we meet at xxx cafe near the auditorium?”

“That would be great, alright sleep tight and goodnight y/n *sleep emoji*”

Still unsure why, when you see the last message popped infront of your eyes, including that sticker, you felt your heart pounding harder than the usual heartbeat when you placed your hands over your heart area.

I only met him once? But why did he left such a deep impression in my mind?

—

2 days later

Somehow you ended your lesson slightly earlier and you slowly make your way to the cafe. Thankfully there wasn’t much crowd, so you are able to freely pick your favourite seat, which is by the window.

“I’ve ended early, what do you want to eat or drink? I can get it first!” you texted Hyunjin who is probably still in class until you heard a voice behind.

“How about what do you want to eat or drink?” you turned your head to see the owner of the husky voice walking towards you, flashing his iconic smile.

Thump, thump, thump, my heartbeat is getting faster again?

“Oh hi, thought you are still in class,” you awkwardly scratched your head as you realised you were staring at him for abit long.

He wore a plain white long sleeve shirt with a knitted cardigan over, with a black jeans and a beret hat covering parts of his hair, and most importantly a pair of black boots.

He is just a walking wardrobe and he look so good in that outfit.

“Nah, i ended early today as well, i was behind you,” he chuckled as he sits opposite you.

“Oh? Then why didn’t you call me?”

“I want to admire your backview,” he replied instantly while staring into your eyes. You coughed a little as you heard his response and diverted your attention away to hide your shyness, and landed on the menu that is above the counter.

“Shall we get drinks first?”

—

After around 1 hr of chatting with him, you both have decided to visit the botanic gardens to see if there are any flowers that attracted both of you. You both setted a date on this Saturday to visit them since it’s a free day.

“Hey, shall we go? i think it’s raining soon and i’ve got work later,” you looked out of the window to see the sky is darkening.

“Oh yes, where do you work at? I’ll send you there,” Hyunjin asked as he stood up from his seat after you sling your bag over your shoulders.

“3 stops from our school, im afraid it is inconvenient for you though,” you spoke as you both started to speed up to exit the building. Your school is insanely big and it takes around 10 min to reach the main entrance of it.

“Anything for you y/n, there is no such thing as inconvenience for you,” he answered so casually which makes your heart skip a beat again.

Was he always this good in his lines?

“Ahem, alright then- oh shit the rain is pouring,” before you can even reply in a complete sentence, rain just started pouring heavily on both of you as you both took shortcuts to cut across the school field instead of going round about the different buildings.

Hyunjin immediately took out his cardigan and place it on the top of your head, even though it is not waterproof but at least it serves some protection?

“Im fine without it since i can go home and change, but you got work y/n,” Hyunjin spoke softly into your ear and placed his hands over your shoulders as he pull you closer to his body. Just mere centimetres apart, you can hear his heart beat clearly.

His heart is beating so fast, you thought.

You both ran out of school and to the nearby bus station that is few metres down the road and you were half drenched. Looking at the one beside you, he is almost fully drenched already.

“y/n, you are half drenched already, i don’t think it would be feasible for you to go to work right now in this, you will be sick, do you want to go home and change up first? is there still enough time?” the latter looked at you with much concern in his eyes as he tried to wiped the rainwater off your hair with his cardigan while he himself is dripping wet from top to bottom.

You shy away your face as you saw the contour of his body, since he is wearing a plain white shirt. You cheeks are flushing as you saw the nearly visible abs through his shirt and you can’t help to admit that, his body proportions are so good, with the addition of his wet black hair.

“Oh, uh, yea i still got 45 mins before my shift starts, i guess i can go home and change first since it is near my workplace, erm, if you don’t mind, do you want to go my house and change up?” you asked sheepishly as you thought you sounded weird to ask a guy over to your house, when you both just got closer abit.

“Oh, will your family members..?” he asked carefully as he looked at your facial expressions.

“Ah, usually in the day my family members are not home, they are working, so not to worry,” you assured him as he heaved a sigh of relief.

“Okay, i didn’t want to freak your family members out haha, im a good boy,” he patted his shoulders twice as he chuckled at his own sentence which caused you to laugh as well.

How can a guy who is so attractive and alluring from the exterior is so cute on the interior?

—

“Ah, uhm hold on for abit, ill get my brother’s clothes for you, i think they suit,” you opened the door and guide Hyunjin into your house.

This is my soulmate’s house… he thought.

“Okay, thanks,” he nodded at your sentence while his eyes are still wondering around your house. He smiled like a fool when he saw your fetus pictures and not gonna lie, his love for you just escalated from the moment he met you till now. The unexplainable fond towards you makes him feel like a love sick boy and the more you both interact, the more he wants to claim you as his but he knows that, he want you to like him for him, not for the stupid tattoo that’s on his bottom right abdomen.

Yesterday he looked at himself in the mirror with his half body naked and realised the bachelor’s button on his skin has turned blue while burning abit when he touches it. His lips curled up as he caresses it. Ever since the day he knew you are his soulmate, he already told his group of guys about it and they were very supportive of his idea, which is to chase you first. He didn’t chase you because other than he wanted you to like him for who he is, but also because he has been eyeing you since the start of freshmen year, without knowing you are his soulmate then.

Hence, it validates the rumour that was spreaded that Hyunjin, as the Art club President, who has more than 100 members and almost 3/4 of them are made up of girls but he was not attracted to anyone at all, not even giving chances for them. The side of Hyunjin that you always sees is only shown to you. What you didn’t see was how he always put up a resting bitch face infront of people, especially girls who always come close to him and he did not hesitate to brush them off. All his friends said that he don’t look like the loyal kind of guy but well, he is the rare one then.

“Here you go!” you passed him a clean set of outfit - a hoodie and a trackpants. You sweared that you were searching for the past 15 min for some decent clothes from your brother’s wardrobe and finally found this set that you thought would suit him, at least. Before you can even react, the guy infront of you already took out his soaked top. You were flustering when you saw his upper body and you don’t know where to see so you were practically staring at his body.

The awfully familiar print on his bottom right abdomen catches your attention. It looks exactly the same as yours on your left collarbone and you were in shock. But what is different is, his print has already turned blue.

“Oh, uhm, i, didn’t meant to see like you know, but, uhm, you met yours already?” you silently cursed at yourself for stuttering so much infront of him as he looked at you pointing at his print.

“Oh this? Ya i met her already,” his lips curled up as he touched the print on his body, which makes him extraordinary sexy.

When you heard the response, you felt your heart dropped. God’s knows why you felt like that but you just felt upset.

He’s taken… you told yourself.

“Oh…, uh i’ll go shower first, you can use the first bathroom to shower as well, i don’t want to leave you sick too,” you changed the topic and turned to your heels and walked into your parent’s room that has a toilet. You noticed your tone also dropped when you finished your last sentence, ignoring the latter behind you who was dumbfounded.

Is she… jealous? He mumbled to himself.

—

After all the hassling, you managed to get to work on time with Hyunjin sending you till the doorstep, causing all your colleagues inside the shop looking in awe.

“Thanks for today and sending me here, get home soon and drink more warm stuff,” you waved at the latter, while still feeling abit down from what he said when he was in your house.

“Yeap i will, take care too y/n, text me when you reached home later,” he ruffled your hair lightly and watched you enter the shop before he left.

It feels illegal now to fall for someone who is already taken, but you just can’t help it.

Throughout your work time, you were still engrossed in the conversation you both had earlier and you felt bothered by it. Ironically, he is just a friend that you know for only 1 week?

All your colleagues were bombarding you with questions and they were mostly asking if the dude that sent you here earlier is your boyfriend. Hah, how you wish that is true, but it isn’t.

Until your work has ended, you were contemplating if you should text Hyunjin. It feels wrong to do so as he already has a partner but you also want to do it.

Hyun🦋’s calling.

“Speaking of the devil,” you hissed at yourself and picked up the call after the third ring.

“Y/n, have you knocked off?” the person from the other side of the phone asked.

“Yeah, just ended, why did you call me?” you asked.

“I predicted that you will be hesitating to text me, so i called you,” he calmly replied with tinge of confidence in his answer.

Fuck, how did he even know what i am thinking about?

“Wow, how did you even guess it?” you walked towards a nearby bus stop to go back home while on the call with Hyunjin.

“Haha, i study psychology y/n, incase you did not know earlier,” the latter answered.

“Alright, you win then, is that all?” you sighed as you boarded the bus that has arrived on time.

“No, i miss your voice, even though it was just 5 hours apart.”

Again, Hyunjin, again, stop making my heartbeat like crazy when you already have your soulmate.

“Hyunjin, do you know what you are saying? You have a soulmate, and how can you say that?” you answered with an annoyed tone. You were pissed because you felt like being toyed by him and not forgetting to hate yourself for falling for all this despite you know the truth.

You allowed your head to rest against the window panel as you looked out of it. You were already starting to feel dizzy and headache due to the rain falling on you earlier and now Hyunjin is saying things that is making you getting more confused and frustrated.

Silence.

You have the strong urge to hang up the call instantly as you already sense your head pounding badly. Right before you press the red button, the latter replied which makes you paused in your action.

“Y/n, you pabo, why don’t you get my hint? I really don’t want to say this so soon but, im afraid if i don’t say it now i will really lose you, my soulmate is you y/n.”

Pang, you felt like a thunder just striked infront of you. You did suspect if Hyunjin was your soulmate but when you looked into the mirror earlier on, your print is still black and white, while his has already turned blue.

Why?

“Time to get off the bus y/n,” you heard the other end reminded you softly into your ears and you looked at the surrounding outside of the bus and you saw Hyunjin standing a distance from the bus stop.

You quickly take your bag and alight the bus before the bus driver close the door. You looked at him who is standing infront of you with an extremely puzzled face, with the phone still on your ears.

Speechless, confused, puzzled, surprised, shock, all sorts of emotions are flooding in your heart right now as you continued to stare at the unresistable guy.

You didn’t know how to process all the information right now. The guy, that you fell for, is your soulmate, and he was once a guy that you disliked, and now you both recognised one another as you felt your print burnt on your collarbone.

Subconciously you reached out to your collarbone and tried to suppress the burnt feeling but you ended up hissing in pain the moment your hands come in contact with the print. Fortunately it subsided after awhile and you turned to look at Hyunjin again, seeing him walking towards you.

“Why-“ before you could even finish your sentence, all you know was he crashed his lips against yours while tilting your chin up to meet his.

Most dumbfounded day. You tried to push him away but he ended up locking you in his embrace tighter by wrapping his hands around your waist and kissed you harder to prove his affection for you while trying not to hurt you.

Eventually, you gave in to him and responded the kiss. When he sensed that you are reciprocating, he deepened the kiss by letting his tongue further explore the inner walls of your mouth, gently sucking and licking on them. Passerbys were judging the both of you but you couldn’t care less but throw your hands around his neck, pulling him closer to you.

After awhile, you both pulled away from each other to catch some breath, while he did not forget to give you a one last kiss on your lips. You finally feel yourself coming back to earth and realised what have you done. You hide your face in between your palms as you leaned against Hyunjin’s chest, making him hug you tighter.

“Dude… we are in public, omg, if my parents saw it they will kill me,” you spoke in his chest, causing him to laugh at your cuteness while he soothed your back.

“It’s okay, im sure they will understand it, even if they don’t im willing to tank the responsibility,” he whispered into your ears and left a gentle kiss on your earlobe, resulting your cheeks to flush even more.

“Y/n, im sorry i did not tell you earlier that i’ve already know that you are my soulmate. I didn’t want to get close to you because of this identity but i want you to know or fall for me for who i am. Of course, it was also because, i’ve already had a crush on you since freshmen year… i don’t know if you remember but, there was one day where i got into a fight with someone and i was quite badly bruised, you came to me and offered to help me clean up my wounds and bought me drink to cheer me up when i was at my worse… girls around me were all chasing only after my visuals and talent but no one actually understands the toughness and pain i gone through, but you were sitting there patiently listening to me and trying to empathise… but i think you couldn’t recognise me because i had longer hair then and my face was injured, but i never forget how you treated me then. I thought i wouldn’t see you anymore but i happened to see you in school with your friend…i was always around you y/n…until i met you again in the art room, which was when i don’t want to lose you anymore…” He confessed into your ears fondly and vulnerably while continuing to embrace you which made you teared up.

You hugged him for a little bit more before he pull you apart gently and cup your face in his palms. He leaned in and make his forehead touch yours after giving a soft kiss on it.

“I like you y/n, and i always do regardless of that stupid bachelor’s button.”

That was the best night you ever had in your 20 years.

—

The saying goes:

“eventually you’ll end up where you will be”

just like how you are born to be, living the life you are supposed to be, working in a job that you are meant to work in, studying in a course that you would love to be in, as well as joining a club that you are interested in.

“with who you are meant to be with”

just like how you are born to be with your parents, making friends with people that may come and go, sticking by your besties that are with you through your ups and downs, meeting classmates and colleagues that you will work with and lastly, meeting your soulmate, or the love of your life that you are fated to be.

“doing what you should be doing”

just like how you are born to play and learn when you were a kid, entering kindergarden and primary school to hone your cognitive skills, entering secondary and high school to enhance your knowledge and social skills, entering university and working to strengthen your foundation and find a direction in your life.

Being a daughter, granddaughter, classmate, friend, best friend, colleague, lover, is all your duty as a human but you never complain about them.

Similarly, the bachelor’s button that is etched on your skin is destined. Although you hated it years back, but now you can’t explain how grateful you are to have this so that it guides you to meet the love of your life.

—

“I like you too Hyunjin, and i always will.”

You spoke so softly that it was only heard between the both of you, and that is all it matters.

“You walked into my life like you had always lived there, like my heart was a home built for you.”

— i think i kinda flopped the ending omggggg 🥲 | ++ im gonna take a break from the flower series becuz im working on a short series now !! Hopefully it will turn out well and receive love from u guys :)

#hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin ff #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin x reader #stray kids #hyunjin fluff #skz #skz hyunjin #straykids hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids

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supernovafics · 4 years ago

Text

𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐋𝐈𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐇

pairing: tom holland x fem!reader

summary: in which tom is your ex-boyfriend and a night in vegas for your mutual friend’s birthday leads to a surprising drunk confession

warnings: explicit language, drunkenness, so much angst, (italicized means flashback)

word count: 2.9k

author’s note: first time ever posting any kind of writing on here but i’m actually very proud of this so i hope you all enjoy! things gets berry berry angsty and sad in this so i’m sorry in advance </3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Against your many drunken protests, the night was coming to an end. You did not want to leave the club you were in along with Zendaya and the friends she invited, so you pouted at the girl, knowing that since this whole Vegas trip had been for her birthday, she would be able to make everyone stay.

“Come on, Z. We should all have a couple more drinks,” You told her, words coming out slightly slurred, showing how inebriated you were.

“No way, Y/N. I think you’ve had enough drinks for the night,” Zendaya responded, and instead of verbally responding to her, you simply pouted again.

You felt upset that you had to leave, but the tiniest part of you that was sober knew you would thank her in the morning for making you do so.

Zendaya turned her attention to Tom, who was sitting at the table that the group of friends had been occupying for most of the night. “Tom, since you and Y/N are staying at the same hotel, can you make sure she gets back to her room okay?”

Tom turned his gaze away from his phone and nodded at Zendaya’s request. He looked at where you were now standing by the bar, animatedly talking and laughing with Jacob and Harrison. Seeing how happy you looked with them reminded Tom of the situation the two of you were in.

For the past two days of this Vegas trip, you both had barely spoken any words to each other. This avoidance wasn’t necessarily purposeful, it was just something that happened, and it honestly made sense. With the way things ended between you two, there was bound to be some lingering awkward tension, especially since this was the first time you guys had been in the same vicinity of each other since the breakup, which happened a little over six months ago.

Neither of you hated the other, but you definitely weren’t going to initiate anything more than some simple small talk.

However, tonight was much different than the past two days in Vegas had been. You were drunk, and anytime you were in this intoxicated state, you became overly friendly and a little too honest, a mixture that almost always led to some type of disaster.

• • •

The beginning of the elevator ride up to your floor was fairly quiet until you started drunkenly rambling to Tom, acting as if there wasn’t any awkward tension between the two of you. It was mainly because the drunk version of you gave zero fucks about the awkwardness that had been lingering for so long.

“We should’ve stayed for just one more drink. It would have been really fun,” You said to him, grinning widely as you leaned back against the wall of the elevator. Tom was standing right next to you. He had been like this the entire way to the hotel just in case you tripped or anything else; he had seen you drunk enough times before to know some of your usual mannerisms.

“You’re already pretty drunk, though,” Tom responded, chuckling lightly.

Even though his words were true, you still gasped, offended. “No, I’m not!”

Once again, Tom laughed, and the sound made your heart simultaneously flutter and ache.

His laugh was your favorite thing about him, not only the soft and happy sound of it but the way his mouth turned up in a wide smile as he did so too. And hearing that oh-so-familiar laugh right then made you realize that this was the first time you’ve heard it in a while, and it also made you desperately want to listen to it again.

“I still love your laugh so much,” You told him, knowing you would not have said that if you were any hint of sober.

As the words spilled from your lips, you noticed the corner of Tom’s mouth perk up the tiniest bit in a smile. “And this honesty is how I know you’re very drunk right now.”

You rolled your eyes, and a full smile took over your features. “I didn’t see you drink at all tonight.”

Tom simply shrugged. “Wasn’t really in the mood.”

The grey elevator doors then opened up to the nineteenth floor before you could say anything in response to Tom’s statement. Both you and he exited the elevator, and you began walking in the direction of your hotel room. That was until you noticed that none of the numbers was the one for your room, and instead of the room numbers on the doors decreasing to the one that was yours, they were actually increasing.

“Wait, fuck. We’re going the wrong way.” You quickly turned around and started walking in the opposite direction. The abrupt action caused you to trip over absolutely nothing but your own feet. Tom attempted to reach for you, but you hit the ground before he could even get the chance to grab your arm.

“Shit, you okay, Y/N?” Tom asked as he knelt down next to you.

You nodded at his question as you laughed a bit and sat up on the carpeted floor, crossing your legs under you. “I’m okay. Can we actually sit here for a sec? The floor is pretty comfortable.”

Tom smiled amusingly at your drunken actions and proceeded to sit down across from you on the carpeted floor of the hallway.

It was quiet for a few moments, and things mainly consisted of you silently admiring his face and him attempting to decipher what you were thinking.

“How are you and Lily?” You asked him. The question randomly came to mind, and before you could stop it from coming out of your mouth, it was blurted.

To say Tom was confused about your words would be an understatement. He hadn’t posted anything about his new relationship yet since it was still slightly recently, and he was nowhere near ready to do so. When you two were together, it took over ten months until you both decided to “go public” with your relationship.

“We’re good,” He answered after his brief moment of confusion. “I didn’t even know that you know about Lily and me.”

Your shoulders lifted in a simple shrug. “I was talking to Harrison about a month ago, and he accidentally mentioned it.”

That conversation was something you remembered all too well. Specifically, the bittersweetness you felt when Harrison told you that Tom was with someone new. You knew that it was a good thing, and overall you were happy for him, but you couldn’t help but feel the tiniest twinge of sadness, knowing that Tom being in a new relationship meant that things were truly over for the two of you.

The thought made you feel a thousand times more upset than you knew you would’ve felt if you were sober. And it also made you feel like an idiot because you were the one who ended things all those months ago, so you shouldn’t be feeling sad at all. But if you considered the circumstances which made you end things, your emotions entirely made sense.

“Hey, are you okay?” Tom was quick to notice how upset you looked, and his voice was full of concern.

God, now you absolutely hated the fact that you were drunk. It made the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes feel uncontrollable.

You ultimately swallowed back the tears and sad thoughts, letting your drunken mind roam to a place that was much less depressing. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I just— Nevermind. Hey, do you remember that time we went to Disney and became completely obsessed with the churros? I swear we both had like five that day.”

You had no idea how your mind brought you to thinking about and bringing up that story, especially because it was something you hadn’t thought about in forever. But the memory always made you laugh, just as you were doing right then.

Tom laughed too as he nodded his head. “That feels like it happened so long ago, but yeah, I remember that. Honestly, I’d go back to Disneyland just for the churros.”

The more you thought about that memory, the more you missed those times with Tom. It made you wonder if he missed that as well. Does he miss me too?

Even though you were drunk, your brain was smart enough not to ask that question. However, it was sadly not smart enough to stop you from saying the next thing you said.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Once again, a confused expression took over Tom’s features. He had no idea where you were going with your question, but he still nodded his head, quite curious about what you were going to tell him. “Sure,” He said along with the nod.

You leaned a tad bit closer toward Tom and dropped your voice to a whisper. “Sometimes I wish that I didn’t lie to you at the airport by saying I wouldn’t do the same for you, which was basically me saying that I didn't love you. Because I really did love you.”

Your softly spoken words lingered in the air between you and Tom for many moments after they fell from your lips.

If you somehow remembered what you just told him in the morning, the smallest part of you that was sober knew that you would completely regret the confession you made.

However, you were unsure if you’d regret the confession more than the actual lie you had told Tom all those months ago; because that was something that the deepest part of you regretted every day.

• • •

The next time you two would see each other was very uncertain. Tom was getting on a plane to London, which was what led you to drive him to LAX, and it was a flight that you would’ve taken with him if there weren’t some things you needed to handle in Los Angeles for the next week.

You were both pretty good at making set plans on when you would see each other next, especially considering how busy your schedules could always be. But, this time was much different. A photography job was going to be taking you to New Zealand for the next six months, and Tom was going to start filming a new movie in Canada in a couple of weeks. It felt like your lives were moving in two completely different directions.

You had known that fact for a long time, but you loved him so much that you always pushed away all of those doubts and worries that would flood your mind.

The past week was when you finally decided to stop. You couldn’t halt the thoughts that took over your brain, and quite frankly, you didn’t want to. Mainly because of how much sense they made. Both of your respective careers were exponentially growing, with your nature photography becoming more recognized and Tom receiving more acting jobs. And those facts were something that you knew would only continuously draw the two of you farther and farther apart.

“So, I’ll see you soon?” Tom’s questioning words pulled you out of your thoughts, and you turned to look at him as he began gathering his things from your car, knowing that the drop-off point you had to park in front of didn’t allow for too long goodbyes.

You were quiet for a few moments, having absolutely no idea how you wanted to word your next statement. Tom looked over at you with curious and hopeful eyes, and that expression made what you knew you had to say feel a million times harder.

“I don’t know,” You finally said, the words coming out soft and almost too quiet, but Tom was still able to hear them.

His eyebrows furrowed in immediate confusion, and he stopped his actions of attempting to make sure everything was in his carry-on backpack. “What do you mean?”

“Next week I’m going to New Zealand for six months, and you’re going to film in Canada. And then after that, there are probably just gonna be more jobs that will push us further away from each other. Our lives are moving in two completely different directions, Tom.” Your words came out rushed, but that didn’t change how true they were.

“We know how to make things work, though. We just had to do a long period of long-distance a few months ago when I had to be in France for a month, and you were here, and we made it through that,” Tom told you, and there was that hopeful look again, making your heart lurch the longer you looked at him.

You pulled your eyes away from him and turned your attention downward for a brief moment. “Yes, we did, but it was still so hard, and we both knew it. And even then, we at least had a set date when we knew we would see each other again. Right now, we have absolutely no clue, and it’s just going to continue to get harder.”

Tom wanted to rebuttal your statement, but he didn’t know the exact thing to say right then, so instead, he opted for the dreaded question, “So what does that mean for us?”

A beat of silence went by before you answered him with, “I think we both know what that means.”

“Just say it, Y/N,” Tom said, and you could already see the hurt that was brimming behind his features. It made you hate the fact that you'd become able to read him so well. You turned your gaze away from him and instead focused your eyes on the Nevada license plate of the car that was in front of you.

This was it. There was nothing more you could do to tread around the words that had to be said.

“I think it would be best if we broke up.”

Silence prevailed in the small space of your car for what felt like hours but was actually just barely a minute. A car honking from behind you put an end to the quiet, and you finally turned to look at Tom.

“You should go. You’re gonna miss your flight.” The fact that you were still processing the last words that you just said to Tom made your voice sound distant and quiet.

Tom was quick to shake his head. “I don’t care about the flight right now. You can not expect me to give up on us so easily, Y/N.”

You didn’t know what to respond to him with, so instead, you just gave him the smallest shrug.

“I love you. We can figure everything out and make it all work,” Tom told you. “If there are times where I need to give up an acting job to make sure that we’re not away from each other for months at a time, then I’ll do it. I really don’t need to take on every role that is offered to me, and I won’t if that means I don’t have to lose you.”

You knew exactly how true those words were, and that was what scared you. In a heartbeat, Tom would give up any acting job if that meant he would get to spend more time with you, and you would do the exact same for him. However, you knew that that was not a good thing. You had always been someone that thought about things long-term, and you knew that regret would eventually spur from both ends if the two of you continuously did that, and that regret would lead to resentment. That was exactly what you did not want to happen.

Once again, you were quiet, not responding to his words with anything, so Tom took that as his cue to continue on, saying something that almost mimicked your previous thoughts. “I know you’d do the same for me too, Y/N. We love each other so much.”

You did love Tom so much, sometimes maybe even too much. And you also knew that he loved you the same amount too; it was a fact that was easily confirmed from the current pleading look in his eyes. However, as much as it hurt, you knew exactly what you needed to do.

“No,” You said with the slightest shake of your head. You took a shallow breath and disconnected your eyes from Tom’s before you finished off your sentence. “I wouldn’t do the same for you.”

There was no need to look at Tom to gather his reaction to your words because you had a strong feeling what it was. Hurt and heartbreak. And that was something that you really did not want to see.

The sound of a car honking again behind you broke the growing silence again, and Tom took that as his cue to finally exit your car. He said nothing to you as he slung his bookbag over his shoulder, grabbed his suitcase from the backseat, and then headed into the airport.

You had just told him something that was a complete and utter lie, and as much as you wanted to chase after him and tell him that your statement had been just that, you didn’t. As you watched his figure become smaller and smaller as he continued inside the expansive airport, you noticed that he did not turn to look back at you once. That was what let you know that the damage was done.

Your heart hurt like hell right then, a completely self-inflicted wound, but you knew that in the long run, your actions would prove to be the right thing. The pain from it all would ease up eventually.

• • •

Tom had absolutely no idea what to say in response to your confession. He was beyond confused and had no idea if you were even telling the truth; he honestly hoped that you weren’t.

That day at the airport was fucking heartbreaking for him, and if it actually had all been just a lie, he wouldn’t know how to feel.

Before he could utter any type of response to your previous words, your drunken mind moved to a completely different place, disregarding everything that had come out of your mouth less than a minute ago.

“I’m really tired,” You said and stood up from the cross-legged position you were in on the floor so that you could start heading to your hotel room.

Tom wordlessly followed suit, and less than a minute later, the two of you were standing in front of your door. You pulled your key card from your pocket and managed to unlock the door after receiving some help from Tom. Using the card was something that had already been slightly difficult to do sober, so adding your drunkenness to the table did not make it any easier.

When the door was opened, you began to step inside the room, but you stopped when you decided to pull Tom in for a hug. He felt completely awkward and tense at the action, but that was something that you didn’t at all notice due to your inebriated state.

“Goodnight, Tommy,” You said to him once you pulled back from the embrace. The nickname you used to always call him, slipping out way too easily.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Tom responded, forcing out a small smile. His mind was still completely stuck on your drunk confession, and he knew that he would be thinking about it all night.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know your thoughts! <33

#tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x fem #tom holland x original character #tom holland x oc

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new-sandrafilter · 4 years ago

Video

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The Making (and Re-Making) of Timothée Chalamet

BY DANIEL RILEY / PHOTOGRAPHY BY RENELL MEDRANO

He found superstardom and artistic acclaim instantaneously. Now, with unique candor, the actor of a generation reveals what it’s like to come of age in our very upside-down era.

The day after the Oscars in 2018, everything that had changed, changed back again. Timothée Chalamet had spent the previous months becoming known. He had acted in a film, Call Me by Your Name, which was critically acclaimed as well as an instant object of cultish admiration—and his performance had made him, at 22, the youngest person nominated for best actor in 80 years. He had, simultaneously, been transformed into the rarest of pop confections—fawned over by younger women, older men, and every demographic in between. And he had traveled without pause on the awards circuit since early autumn, back and forth from New York and Los Angeles, practically living out of the first-class lounge and the lobbies of the Bowery Hotel and the Sunset Tower.

But the day after the Oscars, the moment the clock struck midnight and his carriage turned into a pumpkin, Chalamet was right back where he'd been before the whole fantasy had begun: in New York, with no credit card, no apartment, and no longer any structured demands on his time and attention. Outsiders who had witnessed the arrival may have regarded this 22-year-old as being in possession of wealth and clout, but he was suddenly back on his own dime, which amounted to maybe five or six dimes, reticent to stay with family and friends whose lives he felt he was disrupting with all his new baggage. Of course they couldn't possibly comprehend the chemical reaction that had just transpired. They were still hydrogen and oxygen, and Timothée Chalamet was all of a sudden water.

And so, for three weeks, he disappeared into the wallpaper of the Lower East Side. Specifically, the wallpaper of a little apartment that the French street artist JR kept for visiting collaborators. Chalamet holed up against the ugly New York weather of late winter, and did the only thing he could think to do: learn lines. The King would be his first film since his pivot into fame, and he was anxious to get back to acting after such a long stretch of merely talking about acting. Even more, he needed to blot out the unrecognizable icon the internet was already beginning to make of Timothée Chalamet.

I met Timothée for the first time at the onset of that initial blush of fame, when all of us were being introduced to an actor who had both rare talent and the un-engineerable it that chings like an audible sparkle off a jewel in a cartoon. I wrote a story for this magazine about that first chapter in the arrival of a film star. This is the second chapter, the story of what's happened since. It wasn't evident yet, but those three weeks in New York in 2018 were the starting line of what would amount to a 30-month stretch of four new films, two new Oscar campaigns, some refreshing romance, an incessant awareness of the confusing image of himself as—what else to call it?—an emerging global movie star, and a constant concerted effort to figure himself out as both a young actor and a young person in the unceasing spotlight.

This summer, we were talking about all this on a little screened porch out back of a modest cabin in Woodstock when Chalamet recalled those three weeks. “My world had flipped,” he said. “But if I kicked it with my friends, things could still feel the same. I was trying to marry these two realities. But I don't even think I knew that was what I was doing. That dissonance was real. And thank God. Because I feel like if I'd caught up to it immediately, I would've been a psychopath or something.”

Out on that porch, I asked him a version of the same question over and over: What had the last two and a half years been like for him, as a human being? His response was a multi-hour monologue that I would characterize as: intense. He expressed unadulterated gratitude for his great good fortune. But he also expressed confusion and tension. He is firmly in a moment when he is concerned that everything he says or does or thinks will look or sound wrong. He backtracked a lot (“Wait, let me try that again”). He jumped on and off the record (“Sorry, sorry, sorry, this is just for you…”). It was important for me to know, he said, in order to communicate the context of his experience, if not the specifics.

“I want to get back to the undefined space again. I'm chasing a feeling.”

He lives in the same world all of us do—only with the potential for adoration and blowback turned up to 11. He seems, at once, to trust his own instincts while also second-guessing most thoughts the moment he's convinced of them. It is an exhausting way to be. At times, when he was up on his feet, in his T-shirt and shorts, pacing around the little screened porch, hands tugging at his mane, I could feel the gears grinding to the point of smoke. He wanted so desperately to get this right, to express what he really meant, to feel the right feelings, to live the right way, to be the right kind of man for the people in his life that he knows he can and should be, despite everything else, despite the noise. He's doing his best.

Timothée had rented the house for the month of July, as a little escape but also as an opportunity. He was slated to play Bob Dylan in a new biopic. No telling when it might film, given everything, but for now he had more time to himself than he'd had in years, which meant time to maybe huff the vapors of some Woodstock Dylanalia. “It's not like I'm suffering from lack of connection otherwise,” he said, “but it just really feels like I'm connecting to something here.” When he arrived, he discovered that his little house had a wall devoted to Dylan—to the albums he'd recorded in the run-up to his timeout in Woodstock in the late '60s. Timothée relished happening upon that wall his first day in the Airbnb. The universe offered signs if you nudged it toward coherence.

He knew what the cabin might seem like—like some young actor taking himself way too seriously, “treating himself like an artist.” But he was back and forth between Woodstock and New York all month, bombing up and down the interstate in the Honda sedan he'd rented from Enterprise. (He learned how to drive on Beautiful Boy.) All the while Dylan was top of mind. Timothée was late to the party but helplessly obsessed. He quoted him generously. He fixated on both the art and the persona. He marveled at the way the artist could be out there so much, making such an impact, while also keeping the real person obscured behind the music, the characters in the songs, the language. In the city, we spent time walking around Greenwich Village, Timothée in an identity-concealing face mask and bucket hat and sunglasses, able to search out old Dylan addresses in an invisibility cloak. He ran from site to site, with notes he'd kept while reading Dylan's memoir, Chronicles: Volume One, barreling up stairs and peering into windows. He was a 24-year-old actor, taking advantage of the pause between the second phase of his career and the third and thinking hard, daily, about how to play the next few years.

He rented the house in Woodstock, too, so that he could have a little space all to himself. He craved the privacy to try things and to fuck up. To make small mistakes now, out of view, when it was just him, when he was still young, so that he didn't have to worry about it later. At one point, he stood up and slapped an empty water bottle off the table so that it clattered against the screen of the porch. “I want to know what that sounds like!” he shouted. He hadn't taken many missteps yet, and it made him uncomfortable, wary, that he would someday. The month felt like a controlled burn. In the most innocent way, that was what Woodstock was about. He got to practice his guitar and harmonica in peace, cook himself his “shitty pasta” without judgment, permit himself space to keep growing up. So much was in the spotlight now. But in that cabin, he could sit on the couch for a while and re-familiarize himself with “the crease in the cushion” that he'd lost touch with over the past few years. The quiet. The stillness. That sunlight there coming through the trees. He could breathe a little. Sleep a little. It had all been so good for him so far. But the goodness made him anxious. When will the other shoe drop? Not there. He'd deleted Instagram off his phone. He'd stopped posting on Twitter. He was reading again. Listening to albums all the way through. Slowing down. What was it like to have lived these past two and a half years? It was like a lot of things, but here at the end of it, it just felt good to sleep.

Back at the start of the 30-month run that led to Woodstock, Timothée turned over the keys to JR's studio and went to Europe to shoot The King. The role was like none of the films he'd just received notice for. “Here I am on set with all these Hungarian men with scars on their faces, and they're like, ‘You're the center of the shot, you're the badass! And we know you tried to put on all this weight, but like: You're wearing all the chain mail.’ If they took the chain mail off, my throat is still this big…” There he was trying to keep in perspective this new fame, this new validation, this new temptation toward ego, all while being thrust into the center of “something called The motherfucking King.”

When he returned to New York that summer, he skipped off the atmosphere again with another awkward reentry. One moment he was on the battlefield of the biggest-budget drama he'd yet experienced, the next he was “back in New York, on the A/C/E at Port Authority, just like, What the fuck is going on?” It was a pattern over the past few years. The calmly intense immersion into work, the “thud of lost purpose,” as he called it, when the work ended. It happened the same way in the fall of 2018 with Little Women—reunited with Greta Gerwig and Saoirse Ronan and the crew from Lady Bird. There was just an ease with which he plugged in with them, “a vocabulary of friendship” that existed there.

Timothée's career thus far has been filled with these sorts of friendships, notably those across generational lines. Even a casual observer may have picked up on it. Those glommings-on to older people in his life. Armie Hammer. Kid Cudi. Greta Gerwig. When I asked Gerwig to comment on the arc she's witnessed up close, from Lady Bird to Little Women, she wrote a note about “my friend Timmy”: “It's hard for me now, because I'm his friend, to see him strategically.… I love talking to him. We can get on the phone and talk for an hour or more without even realizing it, just skipping from subject to subject, making jokes, me feeling old and happy and him being funny and anxious and delightfully all over the place.” It's an odd gap he finds himself in—forced to be more accelerated than most 24-year-olds while also having not lived enough life yet to fit in absolutely with the people he enjoys spending time with most. On a recent visit with his grandmother in New York, she surprised him by saying, “I wish you would hang out with people your own age more often. It must be so weird.” It made him chuckle. Even she'd noticed. She might be right. But how could he resist the orbit of these creative geniuses he'd so long admired and who were filled with so much knowingness?

“I'm confident in the way I'm trying to approach things now, how I'm setting up the angles.”

In the winter of 2019, another Oscar campaign left him feeling disoriented all over again. Everything, Timothée said, was exactly the same as the first time except him. He'd put in this undeniable performance, but maybe one that sparked a little less for Oscar voters than that first kiss with a stranger. Now he was in all the same rooms as before, the same lunches and dinners and cocktail parties, shaking hands with the same Academy members who showed up at everything to get a little nibble of the freshest biscuit, growling ominous things at him, like: You don't have my vote yet.… “I really don't know how to talk about this stuff, man,” he told me, “because my experience of it is at the center of it. There's just some dark energy at these things, and this time around I felt like I could see it. And yet I'm thinking, Why isn't this going the exact same way?”

He wasn't nominated for Beautiful Boy, but the fresh air came, as it always seemed to, on the set of the next film: Wes Anderson's The French Dispatch. The movie is about a fictional English-language magazine (based on The New Yorker of the midcentury) and is structurally organized like the magazine itself, featuring short pieces at the “front” of the movie and a triptych of long features at the back. Timothée costars in the second feature, about a May '68-style student-protest leader named Zeffirelli and the middle-aged magazine journalist (Frances McDormand) assigned to report on his cause.

“I had seen Timmy in Lady Bird and Call Me by Your Name,” Anderson wrote to me, “and I never had the inconvenience of ever thinking of anybody else for this role even for a second. I knew he was exactly right, and plus: He speaks French and looks like he might actually have walked right out of an Éric Rohmer movie. Some time around 1985. A slow train from Paris, a backpack, a beach for 10 days in bad weather. He's not any kind of type—but the New Wave would have had a happy place for him.”

The privilege of early fame that Timothée most appreciates is the ability to choose the directors he works with. His role in The French Dispatch is a minor one, but it's a Wes Anderson movie—it's as simple as that. Due to the episodic nature of the film, some of the other “stories” were already being shot when Timothée arrived in Angoulême, a town that reminded him of the one he spent time in growing up, “so French it was like a caricature,” he said. Timothée had the opportunity, then, to hang with some of the elders he doesn't act with, like Jeffrey Wright, Bill Murray, and other seasoned members of the Wes Anderson troupe. “It was immediately as if it wasn't his first time with our group,” Anderson explained. “He was somehow already part of the family. The youngest member.”

Timothée had seen McDormand around for years, but he'd never felt like she was someone he could approach. “We'd shared an agent,” he said. “And it was no disrespect to me, but I hadn't been in any movies yet. What business do I have talking to Frances McDormand? But now, and this is the gift of acting, I really feel myself coming into my own as a community of thespians, as opposed to actors. And man, that sounds pretentious, but I just mean it's not about the fucked-up ladder of success and un-success, and being the guy or the girl, and then being off the list… That's not what I'm talking about with her on set, that's not what she's espousing to me. She's talking about a long career. She's talking about marriage with a creative partner and consultant. So to be able to have conversations like that and then a story line in the movie where they're kind of on an equal field? Even if she's an experienced, wise woman and he's an idealistic, naive boy? That's the exact relationship of exchange I want with my intergenerational peers.”

There's a particularly memorable scene in The French Dispatch, reporter and subject having fallen into bed together, when there's a knock at the door. Timothée looks at McDormand, anxious about who's there, mortified when McDormand informs him it's his mother. There, in that scene, we see all the desire of Zeffirelli—this energetic young man with all the right intentions, who strains to be intellectually and emotionally riper—clash with the reality of his age. It felt familiar to me, and no doubt to Timothée. It was some of my favorite acting in the film. I asked McDormand if there was anything in their scenes that struck her as particularly mature for someone his age. “Maturity is not something a fellow actor is the most concerned with,” she said. “Playfulness, discipline, and rigor. I do recall, during our scene in bed, the crew responding to his work with true respect for his focus. He was bringing it and we sat up and paid attention.” Anderson added: “I think my favorite moments with Timmy during a scene were the ones where I saw him pause and find a new attack. A new angle, which he does very clearly and assertively. What I love is how he will surprise you with something new, completely unexpected and perfect.”

One night, while McDormand was shooting a scene without Timothée, her husband, Joel Coen—he of the Brothers—asked Timothée if he wanted to go out for a steak. Over dinner, Timothée grilled Coen about Dylan. He knew Coen was a fan and had steeped in it on Inside Llewyn Davis. “He almost seemed weary of even talking about this stuff, it was so big and potent,” Timothée told me. But Coen noted that the truly incredible thing about Dylan was not so much the quality, which was obvious, but the quantity—the rapid amount of work in short succession, one groundbreaking album after another, in those early years. That takeaway resonated deeply with Timothée. Especially as he reflected on it from summer 2020, during the pause, during the moment of no work. That gush from Dylan made him want to work—harder, longer, better, more.

A week after our conversation in Woodstock, Timothée and I were in New York City, sitting on a bench along the Hudson, talking about what he's looking for when work resumes. “I want to get back to the undefined space again,” he said. “I'm chasing a feeling. When you think you're doing some great thing, it's probably something you've done before, and when you really fucking have no clue, that's when you're doing something on the edge, good or bad.”

Timothée's mask had slipped down his face as he was saying this, and two young women, about his age, approached cautiously. “Would you mind if we got a…,” they asked, and he hopped up without hesitation. “How'd you recognize me?” he said, friendly, but genuinely curious, as if he hadn't just been shouting about art in a voice that sounded a lot like Laurie from Little Women or Timmy from late-night shows.

“Was it the scrawny limbs or the hair?” I asked him as he sat back down.

“Definitely the first.”

From France, last spring, it was straight to Hungary—right back to the exact apartment in Budapest he'd stayed in while shooting The King—to start work on Dune. Very few actors had become as famous without a blockbuster. And while he'd really gotten it down how to act on an indie set, how to make every second and every take count, he knew this would be something altogether different. It wasn't just the shoot that would prove taxing. A film of Dune's scale would likely be the can opener to a whole other stratum of Hollywood prominence.

Director Denis Villeneuve told me Timothée was his “first and only choice” to play Paul Atreides, “the one name on the page.” When they met to discuss the prospect, Villeneuve told Timothée how happy he was to finally meet the young actor. And Timothée had to remind him that they'd met before, when Timothée read for Villeneuve's Prisoners. “ ‘Of course!’ ” Villeneuve remembered. “He did a great audition, but he didn't physically fit the part. He was probably swearing at me because I didn't take him.” Timothée was party to so many stories like that one—glancing interactions with these heroes of his before he'd broken through. It reminded me of the relationship between freshmen and seniors in high school. The freshmen remember everything about the seniors; the seniors hardly notice the freshmen. But we all become peers eventually.

“I felt there was one being on this planet right now that would be able to portray Paul Atreides,” Villeneuve said—referring to the hero of the 1965 Frank Herbert novel, who transforms from an unassuming heir into a messiah figure, a charismatic outsider and commander of men and women (and sandworms). I read Dune for the first time this summer and was shocked by the source material, how much I'd consumed in culture that had borrowed from it. Star Wars. Alien. The Matrix. Game of Thrones. Paul, therefore, is a type we're familiar with but also possessing singular characteristics Villeneuve wanted Timothée for: “He has a deep, deep intelligence in the eyes. Something you cannot fake. The kid is brilliant. Very intellectual, very strong. And you see that in the eyes. He also has a very old soul. You feel that he has already lived through several lives. And at the same time, he looks so young on camera. Sometimes he'd look almost 14 years old. He has this kind of general youth in his features and the contrast with the old-soul quality in his eyes—it's a kid that knows more about life than his age. Finally: He has that beautiful charisma, the charisma of a rock star. That Paul will lead the whole population of a planet later. Timothée has that kind of instant charisma onscreen that you can find only sometimes in the Old Hollywood stars from the '20s. There's something of a romantic beauty to him. A cross of aristocracy and being a bum at the same time. I mean, Timothée is Paul Atreides for me. It was a big relief that he agreed, because I had no plan b.”

“If I get hit by a truck next week, I'm looking at 20 to 23, I don't know if you can top that.”

I asked Villeneuve if he noticed Timothée struggling at all to adjust to the larger-scale production. “It didn't show when he was on set, but I think for him the big thing was to learn how to create his own bubble on set. So that he would not have to try to be the friend of everyone. When you're on a smaller set, when there's 25 people, you can be friendly with 25 people. When there's 800 people around, you cannot be friends with 800 people.” He chuckled. “It's too much. So how to save your energy, how to focus, how to give himself permission to be in his bubble and make sure that his bubble is respected.”

As ever, Timothée had a special affinity with those people on set who were a little older, a little wiser. Villeneuve said Timothée was constantly speaking with him and his wife in this open, vulnerable way about his concerns, his fears, how to deal with certain pressures. Villeneuve also described for me Timothée's relationships with his fellow actors, particularly the trio of Josh Brolin, Oscar Isaac, and Jason Momoa. “I felt like Timothée was deeply seduced—or maybe not seduced, but I just felt it was like a kid being with older brothers,” Villeneuve said. “He was younger, he was the little one on set, and everybody loved him. There's a scene in the movie where Timothée runs into the arms of Jason Momoa, and Jason grabs him like a puppy and lifts him into the air like he was a feather. And that's real! They really loved each other. It was very beautiful to see this young man being influenced by these people he admires.”

“His positive energy is infectious,” Zendaya, his nearest peer in the film, told me. “He really is so much fun to be around. We have very similar humor, and we can keep a joke going for a long time, but when the cameras start rolling and it's time to work, you can see it's game time, and he just taps into this brilliant intensity. It's awesome to witness.” Villeneuve underlined the energy as well, describing for me just having seen Timothée the night before we spoke, and marveling at “that beautiful, strong candor.”

“I will say that looking at Timothée working, I had a deep feeling that I was watching the birth of something,” Villeneuve added. “Not that it's for me—I say that with humility, because I feel that birth in all the movies he's done so far. I'm feeling it's someone that has insane potential. When I say potential, I don't want to reduce what he's doing right now, not at all. It's just that sometimes you are in front of somebody and you have the feeling you are in contact with a strong artist and that artist, his identity is still growing, building itself, learning its boundaries, learning how to protect some part of it. I think that we are witnessing something beautiful right now.”

At the end of summer 2019, Timothée finally resurfaced from Planet Dune. He had been on social media only sporadically while shooting for most of 2019, and so, for his vast base of fans, it was an overdue glimpse of the object of their affection. First up was the Venice Film Festival and the premiere of The King. There were clothes and Kid Cudi cameos and charming red-carpet interviews. It was an example of the sort of stretch, in the gaps between shoots, when Timothée could indulge his passions for hip-hop and fashion and all these things he'd loved all his life that were suddenly accessible. It was another of the delirious disorientations of the past few years—the way that people who were once subjects of his intense fandom were suddenly a part of his life as friends or acquaintances happy to have him around. He might still embarrass himself at times, helplessly rapping back lyrics to his hip-hop heroes or gushing like a broken dam about new music or clothes or art made by the makers in his life, but they were cool with him so long as he actually kept his cool.

Timothée also spent the end of last summer promoting The King, alongside his costar Lily-Rose Depp, whom he'd been dating for about a year. He is serious about keeping his former relationship with Depp to himself, but he did share one very sweet, very funny, very sad anecdote that encapsulates the spectrum of great and terrible that accompanies the private life of someone new to mega-fame like Timothée.

After Venice, he and Lily-Rose took a few days for themselves in Capri, where they were photographed by paparazzi. One image, in particular, circulated in which they were making out on the deck of a boat. Timothée is contorting himself into the kiss and looks a little awkward. Many people had their laughs. And some even suggested that the photo was staged for publicity. “I went to bed that night thinking that was one of the best days of my life,” Timothée told me. “I was on this boat all day with someone I really loved, and closing my eyes, I was like, indisputably, ‘That was great.’ And then waking up to all these pictures, and feeling embarrassed, and looking like a real nob? All pale? And then people are like: This is a P.R. stunt. A P.R. stunt?! Do you think I'd want to look like that in front of all of you?!”

This was how things worked now. He'd disappeared into those four straight films and emerged into a new paradigm—one that followed him into the holiday season of last year and a whole new level of exposure with Little Women. Here was this film about sisterhood, female intimacy, and a feminist critique of art and commerce. And yet Timothée was still the shiniest object in the set for so many fans. “I'm very used to answering questions about Timothée's hair from 15-year-old girls,” Saoirse Ronan joked with me. “I imagine that's probably what you're going to ask me about?”

Ronan has the unique perspective of having filmed and then promoted two movies with Chalamet during the past three years, and has as clear an eye as anyone onto this early phase of his career. “He's had such incredible opportunities, and he doesn't let the reality of that pass him by,” she said. “He's incredibly gracious and grateful in relation to his work and the people he works with. I think he's become more open as an actor. He knows his instrument more. I think he works even harder now because there are projects that are on his shoulders in a way that they weren't before. And of course he's been totally catapulted into this whole other realm of attention and notoriety. So he's also having to balance the incredible fame and attention, which would completely freak me out if it was something I had to go through.”

“I've realized that as much as these heroes of mine mean to me, and as grateful as I am when they offer me advice, even they acknowledge it's just a different thing now.”

When Timothée and I were sitting by the Hudson that afternoon back in summer, there were those two young women who approached him for a photo. But there were also two other young women who caught an eyeful of his profile as they strolled by and then surreptitiously positioned themselves out of his sight line but still in mine. They did that thing where one pretends to take a picture of the other while actually shooting back over her shoulder in selfie mode. That charade went on for five minutes or so while Timothée exercised his guts about reuniting with Gerwig and Ronan on Little Women, and though I was nodding along, I was also marveling at the lengths to which those two fans were willing to go to get a picture of him.

I asked Ronan what she's noticed about that level of attention, sitting beside him for so much of it. “I'm always kind of shocked by those things—when any one person can just completely take over people's lives so much,” she said, laughing a little incredulously. “But I'm also not surprised. There just aren't many other young male actors out there like him, who are able to hold an audience in the way that he does. His look is so magnetic and beautiful. One of the things that we spoke about a lot when we were doing Little Women, in terms of our characters, but also in terms of myself and him as people, is that we both have this masculinity and femininity equally. And I think that that's one of his strengths, is that he can be incredibly sort of feminine and sensitive and sensual, and also he's a guy that, you know, girls fancy. So he covers so much ground in terms of popularity. But at the end of the day, he's always gonna have this skill. He can be cute, but that only gets you so far.… And so I've seen him learn how to separate himself from all that other stuff when he's on set, when he's working.”

In Woodstock, Timothée had described to me with greatest admiration the way that Ronan can act in these films, at this highest level of acclaim and attention, but also remove herself, uncomplicatedly, from all the fuss: “She is like a superhero when it comes to this sort of thing, going through it so healthy—with the asterisk being excellent work across the board and four Oscar nominations. I think her, like, DNA of self is really morally right.” She knows herself extremely well, he said, and has the confidence to give up only so much of herself. Whereas he feels he is calibrating constantly how much of his true self to reveal. “Saoirse's one of my best friends in the world—at least I think we're best friends. And she's never judged me for…the Coachella of it all.” That is, the part of him that can't resist fanning out backstage with his favorite musicians or occasionally allowing himself to be in the spotlight even as he talks about preserving his privacy.

“He's 24, and he's gonna have a great time, and I would never judge him. I've been to Coachella; I just never got photographed at Coachella,” Ronan said, chuckling. “But yeah, we talk about that sort of stuff all the time. We've weirdly gone through this together for the last few years. We've both become more accessible. But he's had one sort of attention—I do feel like boys get it on a whole other level. I know that ultimately what he wants is to be good at his job. And that will always steer him on the right path. I've always let him know, and he's always let me know, we can talk to each other, and we do. He has good people around him, and I'm one of them, and Greta as well—we all kind of look out for one another.”

Timothée spent late May and early June asking questions of himself: What can I do? What is my role in all this? He felt conflicted when he sprang to action and conflicted when he stood still. But never did things feel less uncertain, less self-conscious, than when he was marching, anonymously, alongside hundreds or thousands of others in Los Angeles in the wake of the murder of George Floyd. It was an active way to participate—meaningful action, without being showy, without flexing any of the levers of fame or power. He was going to get hit no matter what he did, so he tried to follow his instincts of what felt humble, responsible, right.

“This idea,” he said, “that power is the mass body politic organized—and how many bodies can you get together—that makes sense to me.” He didn't disappear but, rather, stripped himself of his him-ness and became one body, among many, taking up space and participating in an unequivocal statement. “With a mask, a hood, a hat, glasses—my face is deleted,” he explained, “and I'm literally presenting a physical form, you know?” A single body in space that, like a vote cast in an election, is democracy embodied, but anonymous. The same unit of power as anyone else. “People might find it disingenuous, but I found it really grounding,” he said. “It was Oh shit, I don't feel out of place—and yet I haven't been in a crowd like this for years.”

He spent much of the summer talking with others about how a person should be in a cultural and political moment such as this one. “After a day of protests,” he said, “I'd ask friends if they ‘felt good.’ If we do, is it a good thing to feel good, or does that mean we're doing it for the wrong reasons? How much do I want to put on social media? Is it a virtue signal to put it on social media? But all social media is performative, right?” I heard him ask dozens of self-interrogating questions like these. He cares so genuinely about doing the right thing, about doing well by his family, his friends, and his fans. But he didn't want to misuse his privilege or his platform, to overreach so that the gravity of his fame sucked up anything from anyone else whose moment it was to speak. He didn't want to take up room; he wanted to help center other voices. On Instagram, he posted videos each day during the first week of marches in Los Angeles—no directives into camera, just an implicit charge to his followers: Show up. Listen. Be a body.

“I have so many thoughts on so much of it,” he said, “but I don't see the benefit of putting it down for consumption until I've really worked out exactly how I feel about it all. Who benefits from my half-baked ideas?” Who cannot relate to this in 2020? Who would want any of their dinnertime conversations with family and friends these past months chiseled into the stone of the internet? “I care so much about this stuff. But I would never want my caring to be misconstrued. I don't want my caring to be about me in any way.”

God, this stuff twisted him up. He knows how much has gone his way. But from the summit of good fortune and power, is it better to speak constantly—or to shut up, put on the glasses, pull down the hood, and live and act according to one's convictions as one individual among many individuals? To march. To vote. To speak through action rather than words. Staying in motion, showing up, being a body—it's a good place to start while he works out the rest of how he's meant to live a life true to his values with everyone watching.

He's seeking out the right path, the right people—with help from his “intergenerational peers” and Dylan and anyone else he can find. He wants the benefit of their knowledge and experience, and he's okay if it's slow going to accrue it. He's open to playing the role of the novice still. But there have also been things in his life these past of couple years that have made him realize, as he puts it, “adults are just kids a little bit older.” When he returned to New York from Los Angeles this summer, it wasn't to his childhood apartment or to a borrowed living space of an acquaintance. It was to his very own apartment, his first, in a little wedge of Manhattan he loved for being nowhere, but on the edge of several somewheres. He relished the mundanity of setting up his own place. To hear him talk about a first trip to CB2 was like hearing another person talk about their first trip to a movie set. “But I think if people saw what my apartment looked like, they'd be like, ‘Oh! This kid has no fucking clue what he's doing.’ ” He is so young and he is so old. It is his gift. He is so patient when he can suppress being so restless. So careful with the long arc of a career when he can resist obsessing over the instant. He is so confident when he centers on the work and so searching when he gets sucked down into questions about the rest of his life. Will he always be this way? This pliable and open? This self-reflective and intentional? He trusted so little of his new life, but he trusted his talent. That was the key. He knew he was as good as anyone at playing other people, even if he was still figuring out how to play himself.

We spent a good amount of time in Woodstock and in New York City and on the phone talking about where his career might take him from here. With great humility, he acknowledges his skill. But he has been thinking a lot about the difference between preternatural talent and mastery—the work that's required to ascend from that floor of young greatness to the ceiling of realized potential. That said, he's wise enough to know that his career could pivot in an entirely different direction—that the world could change or the opportunities could dry up or “eventually there's gonna be an Oscar Isaac in his 30s who's gonna bust out of Juilliard who's gonna be the next great actor and make me feel like a piece of shit. But right now…”

He told me, “If I get hit by a truck next week, I'm looking at 20 to 23, I don't know if you can top that.” To show up with Call Me by Your Name—he knows that that film was a unicorn, the sort an actor works his whole life to find. And the immediate Oscar nomination had freed him up to not spend the rest of his career chasing a certain kind of role that might lead to a certain kind of validation. “I'm not gonna be bashing my head against a wall trying to prove that I'm an actor,” he said. “The train can run over my leg and leave a track forever, and yet the point of entry for me…,” he said, trailing. “That's a good feeling.”

He looks at all these careers—all the careers you might expect: DiCaprio, Bale, Phoenix, Depp. And he does his best to separate the strands of each of their careers that might still apply to his. But all of the rules for acting success that those performers played by, for how to be in the public eye, for career arcs and longevity—those rules are irrelevant now. Hollywood is different, the media is different, fans are different, movies are different, the world is different. “I've realized that as much as these heroes of mine mean to me, and as grateful as I am when they offer me advice, even they acknowledge it's just a different thing now.”

And so it's occurring to him that the next few years will be Timothée finding the path that's right for him. Lately, he's thought about this next phase as shining a flashlight into the dark. There are potential projects that excite him considerably, some of which he's had a greater hand in engineering. There is, of course, the Dylan movie. But there's the question of how to spend the rest of the year, when most Hollywood productions are still paused. “The rest of the year,” he says, “I'm just thinking about Trump, man.” But after that…maybe Europe for a while? The Woodstock experiment did what he'd hoped it would—a little space, somewhere else. He would love to just breathe some different air again.

He was at another pivot point, as he had been when he and I were first together for Chapter 1. In the winter of 2018, the work had been validated, the public profile had developed suddenly. But the temptations, the confusion, the money—those were all lagging indicators. By mid-2020, all had caught up. And the money, in particular, was on his mind one afternoon in New York. We were talking about how a person might stay true to one's roots with that sort of thing when the reality, for him at least, had changed with Dune. I told him that one of the things that seemed to differentiate him from young stars of the past, and perhaps was a feature of his generation, was the way that material possessions didn't consume him. He didn't buy much stuff. He didn't own a car or a house. He liked borrowing clothes, but not necessarily keeping them. He agreed with the characterization, but then got immediately twisted up about a potential future hypocrisy: “But Dan, what if I do grow to like fancy shit?!”

Boomeranging back home after the surreal adventures out in the world—that was a good and grounding thing for him. Over the weeks we were talking, he spent time with his folks, delivered some COVID groceries to his grandma, and was in touch with his sister daily. And in New York, he and I kept running into ghosts. One afternoon, when we crossed the West Side Highway at Houston Street, he gestured at the athletic complex at Pier 40, where he played soccer growing up. He scampered over to a vending machine there to grab a bottle of water. When he pulled open his wallet to pay, he had only twenties. “Bad metaphor! Bad metaphor!” he screamed, jumping away from the vending machine, as though it were one of the great threats to his selfhood. This was the sort of innocuous moment that will hum with outsize resonance for me when I think about Chapter 2 from the future. All the things that one would expect to happen had happened in the first two and a half years since the arrival of a comet, and yet he was suspicious of so much of it.

Here is another way I will remember him from this moment: sitting on that porch in Woodstock—breeze and birds in the trees, sunlight in the leaves—looking for a higher power. Or at least expressing openness, as a nonreligious person, to the idea of some central organizing force in the universe—because, given everything lately, there has to be or we're fucked, right? Some of these searching things he said to me could be mistaken as a person spinning out a little. But that wasn't it at all. There was such calm. There was such contentment with the grace that had been afforded his life and career thus far, and where each might take him next. He was questing, yes—but he was firmly at the controls. The flashlight in the dark. Someone moving forward with great confidence into the unknown, with eyes wide, mouth shut, and ears listening more than they ever had before. There were no models for how a person like him should be anymore. There were no longer any adults who weren't just kids a little bit older. There were no blueprints for how to shape a career—so much had changed. There was only a head and a heart, his, and a feeling for the moment. “Maybe I'll never do a great work of art again, but I just feel like I'm confident in the way I'm trying to approach things now, how I'm setting up the angles,” he said on that porch in Woodstock. “When you think about Dylan. When you think about what Joel Coen said about the rapidness of the art, I'm just like: Trust the beat of your own drum. Give this its best shot. Give your artistry its best shot.”

Daniel Riley is a GQ correspondent and the author of ‘Barcelona Days,’ which was published this past summer.

A version of this story originally appears in the November 2020 issue with the title "Wild Heart."

PRODUCTION CREDITS: Photographs by Renell Medrano Styled by Mobolaji Dawodu Tailoring by Ksenia Golub Produced by Wei-Li Wang at Hudson Hill Production

#timmy #timothee chalamet #gq interview #super long post

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