#it cracks me up though because i showed up freshman year and they were just like

[chaconnehoon]

Obsession- L. HS

✶ Heeseung x Fem! Reader

Synopsis- Who knew the shy, sweet boy from high school would change so much over a couple years? When you realized what you had been missing out on, you didn’t hesitate to show interest in him. Who knew what he really felt after finally having you to himself?

Word Count: 20k

Warnings: SMUT!! Lots of smut and mature themes in general, controlling parents, toxic relationship, stalker-ish themes, Heeseung and reader are both crazy and obsessive

Smut warnings: Kissing, oral(f&m), dry humping, unprotected sex, public sex, masochism, voyeurism, hair pulling, sadism, squirting, etc. that I forgot, I apologize

A/N: Lots of very dark themes, please don’t read if you’re looking for pure vanilla smut bcs this is not the place!! I had many, many ideas for this but decided to take it easy as it’s my first full writing, so look forward to more of my ideas in the future! This was also proofread so many times but I’m sure there are still a few mistakes I missed, pls ignore them :)

Taglist:

@haelahoops @rayofsunshineeee @wannieepisod @ke4s @jungwonloveer @cyberinnie @tasnim10 @hee-yunie @iamliacamila @bluesoobinnie @sumzysworld @blckvper @capri-cuntz @parksunghoonsgf @ladyartemesia @seokseokjinkim

This is fiction and the scenarios are completely fake and from my brain, none of the characters are like this in real life, MDNI!

For once in your life, you felt free.

The moment you came out of your mother’s womb, grumpy and crying, were thrown under constant observation. Every friend you made and every building you stepped foot into was to be researched and evaluated by your parents before you were given their permission to have a social life.

When you were in kindergarten you were accidentally pushed off of the play structure by another student, but stood back up with no serious injuries. However, when your mother picked you up and seen the cuts from the bark on your arm, she demanded you tell her who had hurt you and later requested that the teacher kept you and the boy separated for the rest of the year.

The next day, the same boy introduced himself as Jake and handed you a heart lollipop, asking you to be his valentine. And so you agreed, and you agreed every year after that, until he eventually stopped asking when you both knew the answer would stay the same.

Your mother disapproved of Jake, claiming he’s too mischievous and a bad influence on you. He was both of those things, but he never showed it, which is why you came to the conclusion that your mother just didn’t like him simply because he’s a boy. She had to put up with him though, because of your fathers undying love for your friend, claiming him as his “son he never had”.

Your friendship with Jake had blossomed since day one, and he was your one and only best friend from that point on, until you both started your freshman year of high school. High school was different; there were different subjects, different sports, different people.

So, when Jake showed up at your front door one day after school with two boys, one on either side of him, your mother slammed the door in their faces and called for you to come downstairs. She dragged you to the window and cracked the blinds open enough for both of you to see through, and then shut them before looking at you with her arms crossed. “Explain” she spat out and your eyes widened as you shook your head. “I don’t know them ma, I swear!” You put your hands up defensively and then she rolled her eyes before peeking through the blinds again.

She let out an unbelieving ‘mhm’ and you threw your arms in the air. “I promise! They’re probably just Jake’s friends, he’s a guy and he needs to have other guy friends too, you would know.” You hissed the last phrase at her and you could see her jaw clench before she turned to you again. “Don’t use that tone with me.” She remained calm while she spoke but you’re sure if you looked hard enough you could see the steam coming from her ears.

“I’m just saying” you started speaking before plopping yourself on the couch just below the window, “You always say I shouldn’t be friends with boys, especially the ones like Jake. So maybe he made new friends that are like him.” You looked at your mother as if waiting for her validation, but she just kept her eyes on the boys. You joined her again and appreciated the fact that they didn’t give up and leave, which was probably Jake’s idea considering he was standing with his arms crossed and staring straight into the door.

Before you could try to convince her more, your father was pulling up in the drive way, honking when he noticed the kids at his front door and you tried not to giggle when the three boys jumped and whipped their heads around. You seen Jake slightly relax at the sight of your dad walking up to them with his keys in his hand, and he was eventually unlocking the front door and letting them inside.

Your mother huffed before your father was pulling her into a nearby room and you heard him harshly scold her for being so immature. Outside of the room, Jake was squeezing you half to death in a tight hug, before letting go and whispering an apology for bringing two strangers along with him. “This is Jay” he turned to the boy on his left and put an arm around his shoulder, “and this is Sunghoon” he swung his other arm over the other boy’s shoulder, but had tilted slightly upwards due to the height difference.

You held your hand out and greeted both boys, looking them in the eyes and noting how Sunghoon was quick to avoid eye contact, instead looking at the floor. Jay on the other hand, was confident in himself and gave you a little smirk as you smiled at him. He had low, lazy looking eyes, but his smirk was sharp and showed off his dimple nicely. Sunghoon was shy, but he was nonetheless gorgeous and had the most beautiful eyebrows you’d ever seen. You were also quite fond of his dimpled smile, which shows his sharp canine teeth that resemble vampire fangs.

From that day on, Jay and Sunghoon were added to your friend group and were soon considered your best friends, along with Jake of course. Jake was your number one from the start and you will always see him as that, trusting him the most with your life.

So, when you were both 16 and upset that you hadn’t had your first kiss yet, you let Jake take that title as he kissed you behind the school after you had asked. He was pretty inexperienced himself, but being handsome from an early age allowed him to kiss a few girls in his life before having the pleasure of kissing you. This didn’t change anything in your relationship, staying as friends and promising to never cross that line.

Even if there were no strings attached, the kiss ignited something inside of you, having you crave more and more until you were satisfied. For the rest of your high school experienced, you had experimented relationships with a few people, even going as far as kissing other girls, but realizing you liked the spark you got from being with a man.

✶.

Your best friends were by your side throughout everything, giggling along with you while you talked about a new boyfriend, or supporting you when you wanted to egg the same guy’s car after he cheated on you. The boys were by your side when you fought with your mom about moving away for college, even helping you move into your apartment when you did. They were even by your side the day you started your third year of college and you had gotten accused of sleeping with another girl’s boyfriend at a party. But instead of encouraging you to fight her when she started putting her hair up, Jay had thrown a cockroach at her, resulting in the four of you running into a random classroom to hide.

“Seriously though, who even tries to start a physical fight anymore, we’re too old for that.” Jay was shaking his head and laughing through his sentence like it was the funniest thing he ever experienced. “Who throws bugs at other people!?” Sunghoon smacks Jay in the back of the head before speaking again, “We’re too old for that too!” Sunghoon’s voice sounds horse like he’s really stressing the situation as if he’s so mature himself.

“Oh come on!” Jake is speaking now, adding a whine to his voice, “Don’t act like you didn’t put that snake in a can prank in Heeseung’s backpack last year!” His recollection causes everyone to burst out laughing, and you try your best to laugh along despite your lack of knowledge of the situation.

“Right! Who could forget!” A fifth voice pulls you out of your thoughts as the five of you go quiet, slowly turning around to find where the voice was coming from. Your eyes widen as you mentally facepalm for not looking around the room before entering.

“Oh! What’s up Heeseung?” Jake is greeting him before you can even register who the boy a few feet away from you is. Heeseung sighs before walking up a few steps, “Hi Jake” he shifts his focus, “Jay…Sunghoon” he gives a glance towards the other two before locking eyes with you. “Y/N” he says lowly as if he held anger behind his voice.

You don’t understand why he would be angry at you. Perhaps it’s the fact that you stumbled into a random classroom, and maybe he’s busy with something that you interrupted. But with the way he’s looking at you, it feels deeper than your understanding.

“Heeseung! Hi!” You smiled softly at him, trying your best to not sound intimidated despite your breathy voice. “It’s been a while, huh?” You try making small talk and you hear Jay snicker next to you.

“It’s been three years.” Heeseung sounds snarky as he walks up the last few steps with his hands in his hoodie pocket and finally stands across from all four of you. “Right…three years.“ you nod your head and you hear Sunghoon clear his throat, “Look Heeseung, we’re not trying to start anything, and I apologize for what I pulled last year.” Sunghoon defends himself, standing up straighter as if he’s sizing up towards Heeseung.

A few silent seconds pass before Heeseung is throwing his head back and bursting out in laughter. The three boys around you all exchange quick glances before Heeseung is running a hand through his hair and speaking again, “You guys are too funny.” He takes one long step over, sticking out his hand like he’s offering it to Jake.

You look at Jake from next to him, watching as he swallows dryly while looking at Heeseung’s extended hand. You nudge his opposite arm slightly and he breaks his gaze, looking at you before looking at Heeseung’s face, which is now settled with a small smirk. You nudge him harder in hopes that he’ll take the hint, and he eventually does considering he’s quick to pull his hand out from his own pocket and dabs Heeseung up, a loud clapping sound following.

“Relax, Sim” Heeseung says lowly this time and you hear the rasp in his voice. Jake lets out an awkward giggle and retracts his hand, wiping the sweat off onto his thigh, “What are you doing in here anyways?” Heeseung looks around the room before turning back to your friend group, “Well, I wanted to get to know the location of my class before it started.” He raises a questioning eyebrow, “I’d assume you all were too if I hadn’t overheard your conversation.” Heeseung laughs to himself and you suddenly remember that you hadn’t found your class yet. “Oh! That’s right! Well I guess we should probably get going then.” You sweetly smile at Heeseung and the boys next to you all let out sounds of realization when they remember they still need to find their classes also.

“What classes do you guys have?” Heeseung sits atop one of the desks and you wait for the boys to speak up, but instead they’re all searching for their schedule on their phones. “Um…I have intro to music prouction.” You sound confident this time, but slowly loose the confidence once you see how deeply Heeseung is staring at you. “Oh! Me too!” Sunghoon smiles brightly and wraps an arm around your waist, which doesn’t go unnoticed by Heeseung. “Hey! Me three! Let’s go!” Jake flexes an arm proudly while patting Sunghoon on the back. “Well, looks like we all have it together!” Jay suddenly says and joins your circle of cheers.

Heeseung watches from the table he’s sitting on, noting how close you and the boys seem. Of course you’re close, you have been since you’ve met, but Heeseung still can’t help the feeling of jealousy he senses deep in his stomach.

“I guess we should go look for the room then.” Jake releases from the group and heads for the classroom door until Heeseung is speaking up again. “No need” he states simply and you all turn to look at him for the nth time. “This is the intro to music production room.” He says with a shrug, looking around the room. You again feel the need to mentally face palm as you failed to notice the set up of the classroom, but also feel thankful that you hadn’t knocked over any important and expensive equipment.

You all stand awkwardly for a few seconds until the bell suddenly rings and Jake lets out a small yelp. You giggle at him and you can see Heeseung’s jaw clench as he quickly stands up and then sits down at the same table’s seat. You glance around the classroom, too uncomfortable to sit anywhere but not sure if it would make Heeseung uncomfortable to sit next to him. Before you could make a decision Jake is pulling you into the seat next to Heeseung, and then sitting next to you with Sunghoon and Jay following.

You glare at Jake and he gives you big puppy eyes and juts out his bottom lip, pouting as an apology. You roll your eyes and stare back towards the front of the class, trying your best to focus on the people filling up the seats while Heeseung is looking at you through his peripheral vision. “So,” Jay’s voice startles you and you feel your knee bump Heeseung’s, but he’s quick to place a hand on it to keep you from moving further. You look down at his hand before looking up at him through your eyelashes, then quickly turn your attention towards Jay when he’s talking again.

“Heeseung, um, I didn’t know you take music production classes.” Jake and Sunghoon hum in agreement and you’re wondering how long it’s been since they had last seen him. “You did” Heeseung is quick to spit out, almost annoyed. “When you put the snake can in my backpack? That was in our ethnomusicology class.” He pauses and you can almost see a hurt look in his eye as he looks past you and towards your friends. “And the year before that was when we all had music theory together.” You widen your eyes at the realization that your friends are either very dumb, or very self absorbed to not notice him before. Possibly both.

“Oh right!” Jake snaps his fingers and points at Heeseung with a big smile on his face. “I remember now! Such fun classes.” He hums the last part as if he’s missing them while Heeseung seems to be feeling the quite opposite. He squeezes your knee with his hand that you forgot was touching you, and you look up at him with big eyes. This seems to calm him as he rubs light circles with his thumb before pulling his hand away and into his lap.

As if on que, the professor walks in and greets the class, introducing himself and starting a long synopsis of the course, and you soon find yourself forgetting all about the new yet old peer next to you.

✶.

You wouldn’t consider Heeseung as an old friend. In fact, you’re not sure he even has any real friends. Of course he has the occasional book worms that you would see him studying with in high school. However, that was years ago, and you just seeing him again now.

Which is why you’re now pushing the back of Jake’s head when you walk behind him as he’s relaxing on your couch, questioning why he never told you how much Heeseung had changed.

“Because? I didn’t think you’d care?” He looks at you in confusion as you lay on the couch next to him, throwing your legs across his lap and he places his arms behind his head. “You don’t think I’d care about how hot he is?” You scoff and Jake just shrugs while looking up at your ceiling.

You look towards Sunghoon and Jay who were raiding your fridge, then pausing like they were caught committing a crime. “Hey don’t look at us!” Sunghoon hissed before he turns and opens up your microwave, putting what you can assume is a bowl of ramen inside. “Yeah don’t look at us” Jay speaks in between taking sips of your two liter of coke, “We’re not your new eye candy” he teases and you roll your eyes, looking away and back towards Jake.

“I’m just saying guys,” you throw your arms in the air like you’re trying to make a point. “Last I seen he was a nerd with big round glasses and ears too big for his head,” you almost catch yourself smiling before you’re talking again, “and now? He has nice hair and the height of the green giant?” You hear Jake laugh and you watch as he picks his head back up and places his hands on your legs. “Trust me Y/N,” Jake shakes his head, “He’s still as much of a pathetic nerd as he always has been, he was just trying to act tough in front of you.” He lightly pokes your legs and you wiggle them away until you’re sitting up next to him.

“Well you know I do like pathetic men.” You smile to yourself, not even the slightest ashamed of your enjoyment of corrupting cute boys. “But why would he try to act tough for me?” You furrow your brows at Jake and he pressed his lips into a line like he’s disappointed in your question. “Are you serious?” Sunghoon is yelling from the kitchen this time, “He has like the biggest crush on you!” He’s crossing his arm and tapping his foot like a disappointed father, much like Jake.

You shake your head and laugh loudly, “That was in high school! I doubt he still does.” You try your best to sound sure of yourself, but the last sentence comes out quiet. “Bullshit” Jake slaps your thigh and you glare at him as he pokes your head. “You didn’t see the way he was looking at you earlier?” You shake your head and slap his arm away and he scoffs. “So oblivious” you frown at him while he’s talking about you as if he’s not talking to you. “Plus” he starts again and raises his eyebrows in a flirty way, “He’s been asking about you for the past two years, trying to figure out if he’d have a class with you n’ shit.” Jake shrugs and you scold him for not telling you before.

“What? So you like him all of a sudden?” Jay sinks into the couch next to you and extends an arm across the back, encasing you next to him. “Just because he’s cute now?” He kissed his teeth and shakes his head as if he’s disapproving. “He’s always been cute, just in a different way.” you start off but you’re quickly interrupted by shocked gasps from the three boys and a loud crash from the kitchen.

The three of you turn on the couch to see Sunghoon standing in the kitchen entrance with a bowl of ramen in one hand and the other hand clutching his chest, mouth agape in shock. “You did not just say that.” He whispers breathily like he’s just been told life changing news. “And you did not just break one of my favorite glasses.” You give him an offended look and point a finger at him, then towards your now shattered glass cup on the floor. “You’re cleaning that up and buying me a new one.” You quirk an eyebrow at him and he rolls his eyes, setting down his ramen before bending down to pick up the fallen glass. You tried your best to ignore the fake groans he lets out as if he’s too old and fragile to bend.

“Anyways” Jake claps his hands, “I’m taking a nap! You guys can either join me or stay awake and not break anything so she doesn’t kick us out.” You turn back towards Sunghoon to see him at the trashcan now, flipping Jake off without looking in your direction. Jake only makes it to standing for a second before you’re pulling him back down by his belt loops, resulting in him landing back onto the couch with a huff.

“No.” You simply state and poke his chest, “You’re gonna sit here and explain to me what prank on Heeseung you guys were talking about.” You cross your arms and Jake just whines and sinks himself into the couch more. “It’s nothing really.” Sunghoon sits on the floor in front of the three of you, now slurping his bowl of ramen. “You don’t get a say in if it’s ‘nothing’ or not.” You narrow your eyes at the boy and he breaks eye contact with you to stir his ramen.

“Seriously Y/N” Jay puts a hand on your shoulder, turning you to look at him, “We had bought one of those fake cans that have snakes that pop out, and Hoon was showing it to us. When he went to put it back, Heeseung’s backpack just happened to be the closest to Hoon at the time so he mistook it as his.” Jay tries to reassure you but you just sink yourself into the couch, the same as Jake. “Was funny as fuck though.” Sunghoon was adding on, almost choking on his ramen as he laughed.

You know they’re not lying to you, you’ve grown up with these boys basically your whole life and you know they’d never intentionally bully someone. You’re not sure why you care so much about Heeseung all of a sudden, and as if he could read your mind, Sunghoon is speaking up. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking about him like that.” He stands up and walks to the kitchen, making an audible tsk noise.

You sigh and tap your fingers against the couch, deep in thought. The last time you had really spoken to Heeseung he had fluffy, unstyled hair, and wore cute sweaters that he always looked so cozy in. His eyes were big and round, and sparkled no matter how dark it was. He also had cute pink lips with a pretty Cupid’s bow that pulled into a pretty smile. “I guess I am.” You sat up from the couch and Jake made a noise like you had woken him up suddenly. You turn to look at him and he widens his eyes, “I heard everything I promise! You were talking about how much you wanted to kiss Heeseung~.” He teases the last sentence like a middle school girl teasing you for having a crush.

You pushed his shoulder slightly and stood up from the couch, stretching your arms above your head. “Whatever, I’m also going to take a nap so don’t break anything!” You called out while walking up the stairs, hearing an offended scoff come from Sunghoon.

✶

You expected to show up to a frat party on the first Friday night of the semester and get black out drunk for the first time in a while. You didn’t expect to see Heeseung there as well. He was there though, surprisingly not standing out, but not quite fitting in either.

He was making his way towards the corner of the room, and that’s when you realized maybe he hadn’t changed too much. Since the first day you met him, he was always backed up into a random corner of any room, eyes wide and shoulders tense. However, now he looks slightly more comfortable, but not at ease.

Jay throws an arm around your shoulder, annoyingly pulling you close and you can already smell the alcohol on his breath despite just walking into the house 30 seconds ago. “What a surprise.” He says with raised eyebrows that quickly fall when he takes another sip out of the questionable cup he grabbed.

You face him and grab the cup out of his hands, setting it down on a shelf close to you. “You sicko! Where did you get this? You don’t even know what’s in it.” Jay shrugs at your words and respectably burps away from your face before replying, “Something with Rum. I know my baby when I taste it.” He giggles to himself and you scrunch your nose and try to push him off of you, giving up after realizing he’s somehow stronger when he’s intoxicated.

“Check it out.” You hear Jay lowly mumble into your ear, causing you to follow his gaze back towards Heeseung. This time, he’s talking to a girl with a bored expression on his face. You can hear the girl scoff offendedly before throwing her drink all over Heeseung’s shirt, walking away with a disgusted look on her face. “Oh…shit.” Jay’s voice drops and he seems to sober up slightly. “What the fuck?” You turn to look at Jay and he just shrugs at you, going back to grab his mixture of rum and mystery juice.

Before he can stop you, you’re breaking away from him and mumbling, “Go back with the boys, I’ll make sure he’s okay.” and then following Heeseung who is now making his way out of the kitchen and upstairs.

You find him in a bathroom attempting to soak up the alcohol with a bath towel, groaning when he realizes it’s not working. You knock softly on the open door and he looks up to make eye contact with you in the mirror, eyes wide and you catch a glimpse of the old Heeseung you use to know. “Hey” you greet him with a soft smile, like you’re trying to prove you’re not a threat, “I seen what happened and I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He nods slowly and moves slightly to let you inside of the bathroom with him.

“M’ fine. She’s just mad I rejected her” His words are mumbled as he keeps dabbing the towel on his shirt, “I’ll just change.” You furrow your eyebrows and he looks up to see your confused face, smiling at what he thinks is a cute reaction. “This is my house.” He reassures you and your eyes widen as you sit on top of the closed toilet, leaning your arm on the sink and placing your chin in your palm. The new angle has Heeseung avoiding eye contact and you smile to yourself at the realization that maybe your friends were right about his never ending crush on you.

“It’s a pretty house.” You say softly and he nods his head. “You live alone?” You think that this might be the most words you’ve ever directly spoken to Heeseung. He shakes his head, seemingly more shy and less verbal than he was the other day. “You don’t have to act tough in front of me you know.” You quirk an eyebrow and he pauses his movements, mentally cursing at himself when he realizes that you had caught on. “You don’t have to act cool.” You’re tapping your nails on the sink and before he can respond you’re speaking again. “I think you’re already cool.” You smile seeing his eyes widen before he clears his throat.

“Um, thank you? Or…I don’t know how to respond to that.” You giggle at his reaction, standing up and now staring at yourself in the mirror. You try not to move your gaze from where you’re fixing your hair, but seeing Heeseung’s doe eyes also watching you through the mirror makes your stomach flip. You see his mouth open before he closes it again, then open a second time as he starts speaking, “Do you wanna help me pick out a new shirt to wear? Not that I care what you think but- well I do care but I don’t-“ “Sure, Hee” you cut him off and he relaxes at your answer, nodding before he leads you out of the bathroom and down the hall to his own room.

As you pass the stairs, you see your three friends pause on the middle step and their jaws drop at the sight of you following Heeseung to his room. You bite your bottom lip to hold back your smile and you widen your eyes in a way to acknowledge that you know what they’re thinking.

The first step into Heeseung’s room is surprisingly refreshing, and not filled with the scent of a man in his early 20s. Instead, it smells almost warm yet fruity and sets you into a comfortable mood. You sit on the edge of his bed and watch as he opens his closet, shuffling through an array of different colored shirts. He grabs a light blue short sleeve and holds it up against himself, turning to see your reaction. You scrunch your nose and shake your head, telling him it doesn’t match the color of his cargo pants.

He models a few more shirts before landing on a black long sleeve, tilting his head to the side as he watches your reaction. You smile softly and nod your head, imaging how handsome he’d look in such a simple yet fitting shirt. He walks towards the bed before looking at you and then quickly looking away.

“Can you like, turn around or something?” He speaks softly, not wanting to hurt your feelings. You flash a pretty smile at him before poking his side. “Why? You shy?” You tease and he’s quick to shake his head and before you can tell him you’re kidding, he’s pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it on the bed next to you.

Your jaw goes slack and you analyze every part of Heeseung’s torso, too shocked to care if he catches you staring. He’s slim but well defined, with a broad chest and wide shoulders. His body is definitely more mature, but his face as he watches you check him out is the same as it always has been. His big doe eyes watch shyly and his pretty lips softly frown when you stare for too long, quickly getting insecure when he thinks maybe you’re judging him.

He’s quick to throw the new shirt on and you don’t miss how he suddenly caves in on himself, apologizing for being too comfortable. “No, Heeseung don’t apologize.” You swollow dryly, still in shock. “You’re beautiful.” You watch as his ears slightly turn pink and he fights to keep a shy smile off of his lips. You grab his hand so he looks at you and you pat the bed next to you, giggling as he stumbles onto the bed.

“You should be more confident in yourself.” You speak quietly as you play with his fingers of the hand that you’re still holding. “I mean it. You’re beautiful and you don’t need to try hard to show it.” Your words make him slightly perk up, feeling his ego inflate a bit. “Wish you could’ve told me that sooner.” This time he’s the one speaking quietly while he’s looking at your intertwined fingers. “What?” You ask but he’s quick to shake his head like he regrets what he said.

You bring your free hand up to his face, softly cupping his cheek as he looks at you with almost guilt filled eyes. Just as you’re about to ask him to elaborate, a loud pounding shakes his bedroom door that you didn’t even realize he had closed and locked, and he’s quick to stand up and open it. Sunghoon almost falls into the room as the door opens, being forcefully pushed by Jay who is holding a very drunk Jake.

“My apologies lovebirds.” Sunghoon sounds out of breath, seeming as if he maybe had to help Jay carry the body of your other limp friend upstairs. “Jake is already fucked and throwing up everywhere. We got him to the bathroom but he threw up in one of the plant pots in the living room before we could.”

Heeseung sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “I’ll have one of my roommates clean that. Thanks for letting me know though.” Sunghoon gives him a quick nod before turning to you and motioning his head towards the door this time. You try not to look disappointed as you get up from the bed and make your way to the doorway. Before you step out, you turn around and plant a quick kiss on Heeseung’s cheek, watching as he stands there stunned before you turn to help carry your friend down the stairs.

✶

You sat with your chin in your palm, staring at the side of Heeseung’s face similarly to the way you did at the party. You could tell he was trying hard to pretend like he’s focusing on what the professor was saying, but you knew his mind was running a mile a minute.

After the party, you couldn’t help but feel excited for the next time you’d see Heeseung, giggling to yourself at night over how cute he looked when he was flustered. Your friends begged you to tell them what had happened when you were alone, and begged harder to know how good he was in bed. You swore on Sunghoon’s life that nothing had happened, which resulted in Sunghoon playing dead after “having a heart attack”.

You somewhat wished that you could answer them, imagining what would’ve happened if they hadn’t interrupted your almost intimate moment with Heeseung. Your eyes grazed over his face, stopping at his lips. Your stomach tingled as you thought of how close you were to kissing him, how innocently he looked at you while you held his face. The urge to be close to him again took over, and you almost subconsciously shifted your foot to rub against his own.

You watched as he stopped breathing for a second, then swallowed harshly which dropped your attention down to his Adam’s apple. The way it bobbed every time he spoke or swallowed made your mouth water, wanting to lean over and take a bite out of his neck. You’re so lost in thought you almost didn’t hear him whisper out to you.

“S-stop staring at me.” He tries to sound stern but stutters and gives up, shaking his head in disappointment in himself. His reaction is cute to you, and you can’t help but reach out and poke his round cheek. ”Can’t help it, you’re too cute.” He blushes lightly and before you can retract your hand fully, he’s grabbing it and intertwining his fingers with yours, then dropping both of your hands into his lap.

Even if it’s not an intimate gesture, the idea of being so close to Heeseung in a public setting has you craving more. You’ve barely gotten to know him but he’s already addicting, and you wonder if he feels the same way towards you. You move your pinky that’s trapped between your hands and his thigh, and you notice how his body stiffens at the most innocent touch. You love the feeling of control you have over him, wanting-needing more.

You rub your pinky against his leg a few more times before letting go of his hand, and instead grabbing his thigh. He lets out a squeak-like noise, eyes widening as he sees Jake peek around from the other side of you, raising an eyebrow before smirking and nudging your side. You nudge him back and tell him to focus, all while rubbing your hand up and down Heeseung’s thigh, occasionally squeezing it lightly. The sight of him breathing heavily makes you squeeze your own thighs together, suddenly feeling very aroused by the shy boy next to you.

You struggle to pay attention for the rest of the class, tuning in when the professor brings up the first major assignment and then tuning back out when he starts talking about his failed marriage. Most of your brain capacity is taken over by the thought of Heeseung, getting giddy over the idea of him simply existing as if he’s not sitting next to you.

You hear Jake audibly groan when class is dismissed, muttering about how sore his neck ended up after Jay fell asleep on his shoulder. As your group walks down the stone pathway Sunghoon takes this opportunity to “massage” Jake’s neck, when in reality, a massage from Sunghoon means he tries to painfully poke his slim fingers into your pressure points.

Jake thrashes around as an attempt to get away from Sunghoon’s fingers, bumping into Jay who then bumps into you, causing you to fall backwards and into Heeseung. You collapse on top of him, pushing the both of you over and landing on his lap like a scene you from a cliché romance movie. “Woah guys!” Jay yells out, covering his eyes as if he’s so bothered by a position he’s in every other night. “Get a room horn dogs.” You just roll your eyes and stand up, reaching your hand out for Heeseung to grab.

As soon as he’s up, he’s quickly turning away and avoiding eye contact. You go to tease his shy behavior until you spot the bulge below his belt which he does a terrible job at hiding. “Oh dude.” Jay is trying not to sound amused, but the way Heeseung bites his lip looks all too much like he’s about to cry. You lean over to Jay and tell him and the boys to keep walking back to your apartment while you attempt to talk to Heeseung.

You softly grab the loose fabric of his hoodie sleeve and turn him to face you, stopping him from walking further but frown when he ends up staring straight at the ground. “Hey, Hee.” You cup his cheek softly like you did the other night and he leans his head into your palm.

You take this as a sign of comfort and slide your hand to his chin, grabbing it lightly and forcing him to look at you. “It’s fine baby, don’t worry about that.” His eyes widen at the nickname and he suddenly feels hot under your touch. “We’re just gonna go back to my apartment. Then maybe I can help you out there, is that okay?” He nods in response and that’s all the reassurance you need to grab his hand and speed walk home.

✶

The second you stepped foot into your house, you yelled for the guys to make themselves comfortable as if they didn’t practically live there with how often they were over, and dragged Heeseung to the kitchen. “You need water? Hungry?” You rummage through your fridge, wanting to take care of Heeseung first and foremost. He just shakes his head, nervous eyes darting around your house as he takes in the new unfamiliar area.

“Don’t need anything?” You ask now sipping out of a water bottle and placing it on the counter next to you. “No” Heeseung’s voice shakes, “Just need you.” He drops his head and you do the same, eyes landing right on his still painful hard-on. You look back up and he quickly looks away, and you realize you may never be able to make eye contact with him but making him flustered will always make you smile.

Taking his hand you lead Heeseung up to your bedroom, not even sparing a glance towards your friends as you hear them cheering and hollering behind your back. The way Heeseung’s hand feels hot and sweaty tells you that he definitely doesn’t have much experience, and it seems to arouse you more knowing he probably doesn’t have much to compare you to.

You open your bedroom door, pulling Heeseung inside before closing it and twisting the lock. You turn around to see Heeseung standing awkwardly, hands playing with each other as he looks at you shyly. Walking up to him, you grab both of his hands and look directly into his eyes and this time he doesn’t try to look away. “If anything makes you uncomfortable you can tell me, mkay?” You speak softly and he takes a deep breath hearing how gentle you’re being with him.

You bring him to sit on the side of your bed and sit next to him as you cup his cheek, a familiar position but in a different setting this time. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” You ask and you see the way his eyes flicker down to your lips before they find their way back to your eyes. “No…but I know you have.” His words make you feel a slight pang of guilt in your heart like you should’ve known you’d eventually end up with him.

“The boys told me about your little crush on me.” His eyes widen but he doesn’t deny it and you smile before shifting your touch on his face and using your thumb to gently play with his bottom lip. “Don’t worry” you move your hand to play with the hair on the nape of his neck and lean in close enough for your noses to touch. You can feel his lips brush yours when you speak again. “I think it’s cute.” You purr and gently close the gap between the two of you.

The first kiss lasts a few seconds before you pull away to check on him, but to your surprise he was pouncing back into you and kissing you harshly before you could say anything. You giggle against his lips and grab his shoulders forcing him off of you and he whines at the loss of contact. “Gentle, we don’t have to rush.” He immediately slumps into himself and you take this as an opportunity to push him down onto your bed.

You straddle his hips and smile down at him while he looks up at you with eyes already glossed over and hazy. You lean down, slotting his bottom lip between yours and gently sucking on it. He whines and both of his hands tightly grip your hips while yours land on his chest. He seems to pick up the idea of kissing easily, slightly speeding up excitedly when you quietly moan into the kiss.

You swipe your tongue across his lip and he parts his lips slightly, which allows your tongue to snake in while his does the same and you finally taste him. He lets out a loud moan and quickly pulls back like he didn’t mean to let it slip but you just pull him back in with a harsh grab of his hair. He moans into your mouth again but this time you feel his hands rocking your hips against his and that’s when you remember how hard he was and how badly he must be waiting for release.

“Let me take care of you, Hee.” You pull away from the kiss and he nods rapidly as if he’s been waiting for you to offer. You dip your head into his neck and gently suck and nip at the warm skin, trailing your lips down towards his collarbone as you hear another soft moan escape. You slide off of him and down onto your knees between his legs, tapping one so he gets the hint to let you between them.

He slowly opens his legs just enough for you to fit between and sits up to watch when you start unbuckling his belt. He sighs when you finally take it off and rub your hands on his thighs comfortingly before making your way towards the button on his jeans. You look up at him before unzipping them, looking for any signs of discomfort but all you’re met with is the sight of his bright pink cheeks and dilated pupils.

As soon as you get his jeans off of him you attach your lips to his bare thighs, peppering light kisses trailing from his knees to the hem of his boxers. You reach up to palm his hard-on and when your hand makes contact with him through his underwear, he lets out a whimper that shoots right to your core.

His hips buck into your hand impatiently and he goes to apologize when you’re suddenly grabbing his waistband and pulling his boxers down. He lifts his hips to help you get them down his legs, his cock springing up and catching your attention. He’s big and you don’t know why you’re so surprised considering how big the rest of him is.

He catches you staring for too long and suddenly covers himself up with his hands. “Is it okay?” He’s asking hesitantly and you instantly coo at how cute he is. “So pretty.” You hum and pull his hands away, placing them on the back of your head instead. He takes the hint and threads his fingers through your hair and tugs softly.

You place one hand on his thigh to steady yourself and softly grab his cock with the other, stroking him slightly before using your thumb to smear his precum across his tip. His hips buck into your hand again and you kiss your teeth and smile up at him. “Look at you.” You kiss the base of his cock before trailing kisses up until you reach his tip, kissing it even softer and licking the precum off of your lips. “Taste so good.” Your words seem to affect him strongly as he throws his head back and lets out a breathy whine.

“Please, Y/N, Please.” You’re not exactly sure what he’s begging for but you take it as encouragement to finally press your tongue flat against his tip, then guide yourself down to take more of him into your mouth. “Oh God .” He’s moaning louder this time and you know for sure that your friends can hear him from downstairs.

You pull off of him before immediately sinking back down, taking all of him in your mouth this time. The feeling of him sliding down your throat makes you moan around him and you feel his body jerk at the new sense of stimulation. You bob your head and feel the way his fingers tighten the grip he has on your hair, more moans and whimpers slipping from his lips.

Each sound he makes arouses you more and you don’t even realize that you’ve positioned yourself over his foot before you’re grinding down, moaning at the contact between his foot and your core. He opens his eyes and looks down at you in shock, not realizing how arousing the view from above was. The angle gives him access from the top of your head to your butt, watching how your seducing eyes flutter closed when you take him down your throat and the way your hips move fluidly while you grind down onto his foot.

You open your eyes and pull off of him, jerking him in your hand, eyes wide as you watch his brows furrow with flushed cheeks and his breathing turns uneven. “D-don’t look at me like that.” He sounds so close and you know he’s trying to hold back and impress you by not cumming too fast. “You sound so sexy.” You swirl your tongue around his tip while keeping eye contact with him. “Fuck.” He’s breathing harder and you know he’s seconds away from finishing.

“You going to cum for me baby?” The nickname pushes him right over the edge as he takes one last deep breath before letting out the sweetest whine, and you take the opportunity to take him back into your mouth, just in time to feel his cum spurting down your throat. You continue to suck until he’s lifting you off of him by your hair, and your mouth leaves his cock with an audible pop.

You lick any remaining release from your lips and make your way to stand up as he tucks himself back into his boxers and slide his jeans back up his legs. When he finishes buttoning them you’re climbing back onto his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck.

You kiss him softly, half surprised by the fact that he let you as if he didn’t care that you just had him finish in your mouth, and half aroused at the same time. “You did so good, Hee.” You praise him as you pull away and you don’t miss the way he still blushes at your compliments. “What about you?” He whispers against your lips and you give him a quick peck before pulling away to cup his face. “What about me?” You ask and he looks down at his lap and mumbles almost too quietly for you to hear. “Wanna make you feel good too.” Your heart warms at his words and you shake your head in response before kissing him again. “Taking care of you is enough for me, don’t worry about that.” Your voice is stern but caring and he nods before tucking his face in your your neck.

“I could go for a nap, you wanna join me?” You pick his face up and kiss the tip of his nose and he nods, letting you climb off of his lap and into your bed, then lays next to you as you tuck yourself into the sheets.

You turn to your side and he lays behind you, pulling you close with his arms wrapped around you, inhaling the scent of your perfume. Your breathing syncs with each other’s and you soon hear his soft snores coming from behind you, and you smile to yourself, wishing you could stay like this forever.

✶

The first thing you notice when you wake up is that it’s cold. Your bed is no longer kept warm from the heat of Heeseung’s body against yours, and your heart breaks a little at the idea of him leaving you already.

You’re not usually the type of person to keep contact after a hookup, but something about your relationship with Heeseung feels different. Even through the little time you’ve gotten to know each other, you feel like it’s been years- like the years you could’ve gotten to know Heeseung in if it weren’t for conflicting schedules.

Making your way downstairs you can hear your friends’ voices chatting away until they hear your heavy, sleepy footsteps. Rounding the corner, you find all three boys in the kitchen with Jay cooking ramen while Sunghoon and Jake sit at the table sipping on bottles of beer.

“Well good morning sleeping beauty.” Jay pats your shoulder as you grunt in response, opening the fridge and taking a long sip of cold water. “It’s like 5pm.” You rasp out as you take a seat sitting next to your friends. “It’s 8pm.” Sunghoon chuckles before taking a swig of his beer and turning to you, smoothing out your bedhead.

“What!?” Your eyes widen and you look around frantically before Sunghoon places his hand atop yours, pulling your attention back to him. “Relax, Heeseung left not too long ago- said he had something to get back to at home.” The three boys could see your frown forming and noticed the your eyes stayed glued to the table.

“Don’t worry, he left this.” Jake slaps a sticky note on the table in front of you, winking before getting up and grabbing another beer. You examine the sticky note and your jaw drops into a long ‘O’ shape. “He gave me his number!?” You squeal and almost jump from your seat, knocking your knees against Sunghoon’s.

“God, how are you so hyper after waking up.” He says it more as a statement than a question and you just give him a sarcastic smile before turning towards Jake instead. “Where did he leave it? Because I know he wouldn’t just leave it on the table for anyone to see.” You narrow your eyes at Jake in suspicion and he quickly darts his eyes away nervously.

“Jake.” You say his name sternly and you notice how he tenses and takes another sip of beer. “Jake were you snooping again?” You barely get your sentence out as he’s already defending himself. “I wasn’t I swear! When he left I went in your room to check on you and make sure you were okay and…clothed.”

Your face morphs into a confused disgust, “Pervert! Why would you care if I had clothes on or not!?” His mouth opens in shock as he shakes his head rapidly. “God, Y/N don’t make me say it!” He’s suddenly covering his face to hide his embarrassment while you’re sent into deeper confusion. “Say what!?” You’re standing up and hovering over the table, irritated at how difficult Jake is being.

“I wanted to make sure he didn’t just up and leave after fucking you! I wanted to make sure you actually had proper aftercare and he didn’t just cum and go!” Jake is slamming his hands on the table and you hear Sunghoon snicker beside you at the pun Jake may or may not have realized he used.

“What? Why would he do that?” You’re lowering your voice this time and it cracks softly while you speak. Jake sighs and taps his fingertips against the glass of his beer bottle. “Because every time you’re actually interested in a guy-more than just hookup, you’re left hurt when they leave not wanting more.” He’s making eye contact with you now and you slowly sit back down.

“Well” you start speaking but your voice comes out soft and weary. “How do you know that I want more than a hookup with him?” You immediately regret asking, knowing well that the boys can see right through you. “You wouldn’t just give a random hookup a blowjob and not expect anything in return.” Jake is giving you a “duh” face and you just gasp in shock.

“He told you!?” You’re perking up in your seat and you see Sunghoon cover his ears when you yell. “Are you never not yelling?” Sunghoon is wincing at his now ringing ears and you just mumble an apology before turning your attention back to Jake. “More like he forced the poor guy to confess.” Jay is setting the fresh ramen on the table and you roll your eyes at his response.

“Don’t tell me you threatened him.” Jake shakes his head with an offended look on his face. “Of course not! I was going to but I could see how shy he looked. He just told me you sucked him off and took a nap after.” Jake stuffs his mouth with food like a caveman after speaking, giving you time to reflect on their interaction.

“Why did you come check on me if he told you we didn’t have sex?” It’s your turn to stuff your face and Jake wipes his mouth with the back of his hand like a toddler. “You know I don’t quite trust him yet. Just had to make sure he wasn’t lying.” He gives you soft, caring eyes and you feel your heart warm at the sense of comfort. “Thank you, Jake.” You smile at him but it drops he shakes his head.

“Wasn’t just me.” He nods his head towards Sunghoon and Jay who pause suddenly. “They kept him from leaving while I checked on you.” The other two boys nod and first bump over the bowls of ramen. “I know you guys are caring and brotherly like, but he probably thought he was going to die.” You’re giggling at the thought of a wide-eyed Heeseung standing stiff against your wall with your two scariest looking friends staring him down.

Sunghoon laughs, almost choking on his ramen while Jay slides him a bottle of water to help soothe his throat. “He did! It was hilarious but I gave him a nice pat on the shoulder and he eased up a bit.” Sunghoon was speaking in between coughs and you rub his back, encouraging him to not irritate his burning throat more.

“Don’t worry about his phone number, I already called it while Jake was checking on you and his phone buzzed in his pocket so we know it’s not a fake pitty number.” Jay watches for your reaction and when speaks again. “So now I have his number in case of an emergency.” He teases and you slump in your seat with a heavy sigh.

“Geez, okay dad.” You tease him back and he grabs the sticky note, sliding it over and sticking it onto the table in front of you. “Now text him.”

✶

When you texted Heeseung and he responded right away, you weren’t quite expecting to stay up all night talking to him. You had asked him to call you around 1am and you giggled at how the read symbol stayed under your message for a solid minute until he was calling you. Even over the phone he would stutter when you ask him a slightly suggestive question or subtly flirt with him.

You had spent hours sending each other old photos from when you were younger, some even from the yearbook as you pointed out the different clubs and sports teams you were in. You laughed together when you pointed out how different you had both become, realize how long it has been since you had first met Heeseung. You had sent him pictures from your social media, bragging about the fun trips you took or the friends you had made.

You sat with a soft smile on your face when you sent him a picture of your three friends posing with bright smiles and bright silver hair. You had explained to him that during the past summer, you and your friends weren’t able to leave the city like usual so you all decided to dye your hair silver for fun.

Despite not seeing anyone over the summer, Heeseung can recall seeing your friend group return back to school with faded dirty blonde hair. You brag about how well you did for box dye, going on about how all four of you looked so sexy and that you think Jake’s looked the coolest because he kept the tips of his hair black. Heeseung gets quiet on the other line and you’d think he had fallen asleep if it weren’t for him suddenly clearing his throat and changing the topic, something about his older brother graduating a high ranking university soon.

When you both got quiet after a while and heard the soft snores coming from his side of the call, you whispered a goodnight to him and had a mental debate with yourself to decide whether or not you should hang up. You decided against the idea and fell asleep to the sound of Heeseung’s breathing.

You woke up to find that Heeseung ended the call not long after you fell asleep, but when you read his good morning text your heart warmed.

“‘Good morning beautiful, I’m sorry I hung up early last night, my phone died haha -sweating emoji- can’t wait to see you in class’.” A blinding smile was plastered on your face while you read the text out loud. You met up with your three friends to walk to class, texting the groupchat in all capital letters that you had something important to show them.

“Cringe.” Sunghoon scrunched his face in disgust, soon dropping it into a pout after you pinch him harshly. “It’s okay Hoonie I know you’re just jealous.” You tease, wrapping your hands around his arm and pulling him against you. “Stop it Y/N! You’re scaring the hoes.” Sunghoon pushed you off of him and into Jay who catches you with an arm around your waist.

“What hoes, Hoon? You lost your virginity last year and haven’t been with a girl since.” Jake is the one to tease this time, bringing up a funny memory for your friend group. “Oh my God that’s right! Were you that bad in bed that not one girl in this school wants to fuck you?” You giggle at your continuous attacks on your friend as he just gives an offended glare, opening up his mouth to speak before he’s interrupted.

“I think it’s because he has some slut clinging onto him and two other guys 24/7.” The four of you stop walking and turn to the closest bench, finding a group of girls with evil smirks resting on their too-perfect faces.

“What did you just say?” You harshly rip Jay’s arm off of your waist and make your way up to the friend group, your own following behind you. “Oh, did I hit a nerve?” The same girl fake pouts at you while her minions giggle to themselves and you clench your fists at the sneakiness lingering in her voice. “No but I’m about to hit you in the fucking face-“ You’re cut off by Jay who is covering you mouth with his hand and pulling you backwards towards your friends.

“Okayyy! I’m going to stop you right there, thank you.” Jay announces loudly, anyone who wasn’t aware of the situation before was definitely aware now with the amount of heads that turned in your direction. With a quick turn and an arm over your shoulder, you’re guided away from the group of girls who watch you leave with the same smirks that haven’t left their lips.

“Jay you’re embarrassing me.” You’re trying to shove Jay’s heavy arm off of you, which only results in you being tugged closer towards his body. “Oh, I’m the one embarrassing you?” He shoots you a disbelieving expression and then shakes his head. “You were about to rip her eyelashes off!” Jay pokes you in the temple as a sign of playfulnesses, showing you that he’s not actually that mad at you.

“Yeah I would’ve ripped out her falsies and then her real ones.” You finally wiggle out of Jay’s reach and stand on the opposite side of Jake, using his body as a barrier. Jake now looks at you and covers one of his eyes with his hand, muttering an ‘ouch’ and you just nod as if you were telling him that’s exactly why that was your chosen threat.

“Alright relax, I don’t think Heeseung would want his girl getting into fights over some rumors.” Sunghoon shoots you a somewhat reassuring glance along with his words. You just sigh and can’t help but wonder if they’re actually more than just rumors. “Speak of the devil.” Jake mumbles just loud enough for your group to hear as you open the door to your music lecture.

All four of you stop in your tracks at the sight of a bright sliver head of hair sitting at the seat next to your own. “Is that…” Sunghoon trails off in awe as Jake’s jaw goes slack “No way.” His thick accented voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper. “Heeseung?” You walk ahead of the group, laying a hand on Heeseung’s shoulder to catch his attention.

The boy turns and his eyes light up immediately at the sight of you. “Your hair…” you trail off as you reach up to run a hand through his hair. “Do you…do you like it?” You can hear the neediness for reassurance in his voice, like he only cared about what you think. “Yeah” you breathe out as if you were scared to express your true feelings, “You look sexy.”

His ears visibly darken to a deep red color, taken aback at your forwardness. “Damn right he does!” You hear Jake hype up Heeseung as he offers a fist bump before sitting in his seat next to you.

Throughout the lecture, everything your professor said went in one ear and out the other while your main focus was Heeseung. The way his new hair complimented his complexion perfectly was almost inhumane, and you felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him. Of course, you can’t just climb onto his lap and hold him down while you eat his face in the middle of class, so you opt to do what you do best with Heeseung; make him nervous.

After befriending and become more than just friends with the boy, you’ve learned just how sensitive he is everywhere. Any time you rest a hand even on his knee or slightly brush an arm against his, he stiffens and looks down expectantly. So, with the desire to feel something, anything, you softly place your hand on his thigh and lightly tap your fingers. Through your peripheral vision can see Heeseung peering down at you through his own, and you grow impatient with his lack of common response.

As you decide to trail your hand up his thigh, he suddenly grips your wrist almost painfully tight just before you reach the crotch of his pants. You look up annoyed at your failed attempt of teasing him and lock eyes as he shakes his head, as if he’s warning you, even daring you to try again. Placing your hand back in your own lap, he focuses back on the lecture and tries not to react to the way you’re suddenly shifting in your chair.

“Is it just me or is it a bit hot in here guys?” You whisper to your surrounding friends as you fan yourself as an attempt to make your question sound genuine. Sunghoon leans over the table and gives you a stern look before kissing his teeth and scolding you, “I told you that sweater was too thick for this heat! But no! You never listen to me!”. He’s whining in an aggressive whisper but you ignore him and grab the hem of your knitted sweater and bring it over your head.

As your thin black, very cropped tank top is now visible, you can’t help but smirk at Heeseung’s wandering eyes. You notice the way his prominent Adam’s Apple bobs when he swallows harshly, and the way he quickly directs his eyes away when you catch him staring down the area of your back.

“What’s wrong, Hee? You getting hot too?” You lean toward him on your desk, crossing your arms under your chest as the pressure enhances your cleavage. “Just a bit.” He states blankly, keeping his eyes staring straight towards the front of the room. You watch as his eyes flick down towards the watch on his wrist but before you can also check the time, he’s grabbing his backpack.

Just as you’re about to ask where he’s going, the bell rings and he shoots up from his seat. He collects his laptop and notebook quickly, and you wonder if you maybe pushed him too far if he’s that eager to get away from you. He catches you off guard as he suddenly grabs your backpack, also putting your things away before grabbing your hand and pulling you out of the class before your friends could follow.

✶

After becoming closer to Heeseung both emotionally and sexually, you were 99% sure that you could predict his every move. From the way he stiffens to your small touches or trails his eyes from your own down to your lips every time you speak, nothing he does ever surprises you anymore.

However, now that he finally snapped and pulled you into a room not far from your lecture, you’re suddenly questioning the soft, shy, submissive nature that you may have mistaken him for.

Pulling you into the indoor hallway behind him, you have no time to adjust as he’s pulling you into another room and you’re suddenly pressed against the closed door. Everything happens so fast, you’re almost unable to register the feeling of his lips attacking your neck, licking and sucking everywhere so that no area is left dry.

In fear of his sudden change in demeanor, you place your palms on his chest and push him off of you, just enough to look him in the eyes. “Heeseung, what are you doing?” You’re whispering harshly, afraid that anyone passing by in the hallway may hear.

“What am I doing?” He takes a small step closer but it’s still enough to have the tips of your shoes now touching his. “What are you doing? Touching me in class like that? Undressing yourself like that?” Your lip quirks up, realizing that your earlier teasing was working. “I told you, it was getting hot in there.” You look up at him innocently, softly running a hand through his freshly dyed hair.

“And I couldn’t help myself. Couldn’t keep my hands off of you after seeing this.” You harshly tug on his hair on the last word and he lets out a whimper, but he’s quick to keep himself from falling back into the same headspace. Unsatisfied with his reaction, you pull his hair harder and this time he bends down to crash his lips against yours.

He spins you around, walking you across the room until the back of your knees hit something and he pushes you down onto what you realize is a couch. He takes his backpack off of his back and sets it on the chair in front of the sound-mixing board, while you lay comfortable on the couch. Laying sideways on the furniture puts you in the perfect position to grab onto Heeseung’s belt, pulling him on top of you to quickly reconnect your lips.

Heeseung wastes no time, putting one hand on your waist and the other by your head to hold himself up as he pins you into the sofa. Using his advantage of being on top, he keeps you pinned onto the cushions as he rolls his hips into yours, groaning at the feeling of his hard-on making contact with your core. You struggle to kiss him back as your mouth parts at the new feeling, and he takes this opportunity to easily slide his tongue into your mouth, explore everywhere with his wet muscle.

You moan loudly as he keeps rolling his hips into you, and he seems to realize that you had both forgotten you’re in a public area. Without pulling away, he grabs onto your thighs and lifts you up, walking further into the room and up to another door next to the mixing board. One of his hands leaves your thighs and you hear a few clicking noises but before you can open your eyes to check what he’s doing, he’s opening opening the door and walking you inside of the small booth.

Pulling the chair by the microphone closer to you, he sets you down onto it and goes back to close the door. “This room is soundproof.” He walks back to you and drops to his knees, gripping your thighs and forcing them open before he settles between them. “Means you can be as loud as you want.” He’s rubbing his palms on your thighs the same way you did to him, then moves his hands to the button of your jeans.

“Can I?” He only speaks two words but you nod your head almost embarrassingly fast, lifting your hips so he can pull your pants down with ease. You recently started wondering how Heeseung would react to seeing you in your underwear, but nothing could prepare you for the way he grips your hips, pulling you almost all the way out of your seat. He grabs both of your ankles, pulling your legs to rest over his shoulders and you have to contain the squeal you want to let out as he bites down onto one of your thighs.

Licking over the bite mark, his hand comes up to slap the side of your ass as punishment. “I told you already, pretty.” He switches to the other thigh, biting down again and leaving a matching bite mark before soothing the pain with his tongue for the second time today. “You can be loud.” With his repeated permission, you whine at the feeling of him pressing a soft kiss to your clit through your underwear.

“Please Hee, I need it.” You grind your hips forward into nothing but air and grip the sides of the chair tight. “Yeah? Want me to eat this pretty pussy?” His hot breath fans over your covered cunt as he speaks, and you gasp when he’s shoving his face further, inhaling your sweet scent.

You watch as he licks a long stripe up your slit, still covered by your panties before he pulls them to the side frustratingly slow. Your whines turn into moans as he licks under stripe, the time without the thin panties in the way. He wastes no time, diving into your core and licking, sucking, slurping everywhere and everything.

Your thighs shake and clench around his head and he moans into your core as you reach with one hand to grab his hair. The same hair that caused this mess, the same hair that you coincidentally showed him an inspiring picture of the night before. You couldn’t think too deeply about it as one of his hands is reaching up to your tank top, pulling the front down along with the cups of your bra.

You throw your head back as the cold air hits your nipples, but is soon replaced by Heeseung’s warm and wet mouth. You look back down to see his lips attached to one of your sensitive buds while his eyes are wide and expecting as he looks up at you. Just the image of the doe-eyed boy you always knew makes another whine escape from your throat.

Heeseung is doing great as his tongue plays with your nipple and his fingers rub circles on your clit, but you need more. “Hee” you whimper and he blinks in response. “Use your fingers, baby. Inside me—please.” You roll your hips forward while Heeseung’s hand stops the previous movements and you come to the realization that he hasn’t actually done this before.

Lifting your hand that isn’t in his hair, you grab his wrist and guide him, rubbing his fingers over your slick before letting him push one into you. Even just one finger was enough to make your back arch, his large hands reaching places your own couldn’t. He experimentally curls his finger, grinning at the way your eyebrows furrow and your mouth goes slack. He continues his movements for a few seconds, then adds a second finger and you loose all ability to think.

With your back arching off the chair and your head falling back, Heeseung takes this as a sign to thrust and curl his fingers faster, attaching his lips back to your hard nipple while your own hand releases his wrist to play with the other sensitive bud. Heeseung’s lips leave your nipple to kiss down your body, making his way back to your cunt, licking and sucking almost painfully on your clit, all while speeding up the pace of his fingers inside of you.

His new rough touches send you over the edge, gripping the back of his head tightly, keeping it pressed against you while you grind yourself on his wet tongue. The sight of him sitting between your legs is so overwhelming, causing a knot to form in your lower belly. With his fingers pumping inside of you, mouth open with his pretty pink tongue sticking out for you to use for your own pleasure, and his somehow still innocent looking eyes watching your face as you lose yourself, you feel yourself becoming lightheaded as you come undone.

As soon as you think you’re having a regular orgasm, Heeseung wraps his lips around your clit again, sucking harshly. That’s all it took for you to squeeze your eyes shut, a loud moan of Heeseung’s name escaping your throat as you feel your lower half become warm and wet while Heeseung continues sucking and plunging his fingers in and out of you.

The overwhelming feeling doesn’t stop or even weaken and you open your eyes and look down, now realizing you’re squirting for the first time in your life. Watching as your juices seem to gush out of you, you can’t take your eyes off of Heeseung’s now soaking wet face. His eyes are glossy and shining, while his nose, cheeks, and chin are glistening from your squirt as he finally pulls away once you’ve come down from your high.

“Wow…” Heeseung seems dazed as he can’t take his eyes off of your leaking hole. You grab his chin with your fingers, leading him up to your face to capture his wet lips into a sloppy kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I’ve never squirted before, Hee.” You pull back to wipe his sticky wet cheeks and you swear you feel them heat up from your words.

“Guess we both had firsts today.” He pecks your lips and smiles at you and your heart aches at the proud look on his face. Feeling the urge to reassure him, you pull him into a hug and hover your lips by his ear. “M’ so proud of you, baby. Did so good for me.” He whines at your compliment, pulling away from the hug to bring you back into a bruising kiss.

✶

“So you’re telling me” Jake pokes a finger into your arm before before pointing it back towards himself, “That when Heeseung took you to the studio room, you just talked?” Jake shoves a fry into his mouth and sends you a disbelieving look when you simply nod your head. “Bullshit.” Jay is speaking from across from you after taking a giant bite out of his burger.

You roll your eyes when you catch a glimpse of his chewed up food and kick his leg under the table, “You’re disgusting.” Jay returns your kick causing a sharp pain in your shin and you mumble curses at him while rubbing the sore spot. Jay then sends a few verbal hits towards you after he finishes chewing his bite, “You’re one to talk! I’m starting to think you have a exhibitionism kink with how often you and your boyfriend get it on in public.”

You grab your cup and bite your straw in annoyance, avoiding eye contact as you’re ashamed your friend might be right. “First of all, he’s not my boyfriend, and second of all, we’re not ‘getting it on’ in public, I just sucked him off that one time at home and he only returned the favor in the studio room.” You quickly realize your mistake when Jake is slamming a heavy palm on the table next to you and practically screeching in your ear.

“Ha! I knew it! There’s no way your corruptive ass is able to hold a private conversation with a shy guy like Heeseung without pouncing on him!” On the other side of the table, Jay fist bumps Jake while Sunghoon is choking on his milkshake, eyes tearing up as it comes out of his nose. You scrunch your face up in disgust while handing a few napkins over to your poor friend.

“Whatever guys, so what if I’m sexually active with him? It’s not like he’s the first guy I’ve been with.” You once again bite down on the flimsy plastic of your straw, staring down at your fingers that are tapping on the bright red coloring of the old burger joint’s table.

Jay points a finger up in a “matter of fact” manner as he tilts his head in a playful way. “You know he’s the first guy you’ve been with that actually has a massive crush on you though. Just saying, obsession is not a joke and you know how dangerous some guys could be when they’re crazy about a girl.”

Jay’s word make you rethink your whole relationship with Heeseung, realizing that most of the guys you’ve been with were just casual hookups or friends with benefits situations. The types of relationships that took mutual agreements and setting boundaries in order to keep until eventually one of you got bored with the other. With Heeseung, you hadn’t discussed those boundaries and just assumed that’s what he had wanted. Now, with Jay shooting you a knowing look, you realize you may have fucked up.

“Well…what if he doesn’t want a relationship? I could just be a booty call to him.” You shrug and try to ignore the way Sunghoon and Jake both start rambling about how naive and oblivious you seem to be. “Y/N, I love you and all, but I genuinely can’t tell if you’re being a dumb bitch or being in denial.” Sunghoon pats your hand in a comforting way while the other two boys nod their heads in agreement. “Yeah you’ve seen how he looks at you! No man looks at his booty call with heart eyes.” Jake pokes your temple and you swat his hand away.

“He could also just be looking at me with ‘fuck me’ eyes.” You retort what you think is a reasonable answer, until Jay is speaking from across from you again. “But it’s Heeseung, I don’t think he’s even held a girl’s hand before. ‘Fuck me’ eyes could be a big deal to him if he finds sex more than just casual. He’s not like you and you know that.” Sunghoon wipes his fake tears and pats Jay on the back like a proud father, “I think that’s the smartest thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”

Jay rolls his eyes and takes the last bite of his burger, uncomfortable with his friend who is now pinching his cheeks. Next to you, Jake places his now empty cup down and turns to you. His eyes are burning holes into your face as you avoid eye contact, not wanting to continue the discussion any longer. “I know you’re internally freaking out right now.” Jake nudges your shoulder with his own, “How about you sleep on it and maybe talk to Heeseung about it tomorrow?”

He gives you his best supportive look and you feel grateful that at least one of your friends is actually trying to be helpful. You slowly nod your head, lost in your thoughts of Heeseung and you can’t help but feel nervous about having such a serious conversation with him.

“Alright!” Jay claps his hands and scares you out of your thoughts. “Let’s hit the road!” He quickly stands up from the table and Sunghoon squeezes out of the booth following him with a snort, “Okay what are you, a dad?” Your smile at Sunghoon’s comment quickly turns into a frown of disgust as Jay corrects, “Actually, it’s dad-dy, thank you very much.”

As Sunghoon pushes the doors of the restaurant wide open mimicking a grand exit, all four of you stop in your tracks as a very tall, silver headed and doe eyed boy is also stopping. “Heeseung? What are you doing here?” You curse yourself for asking such a stupid question, but you’re caught off guard by the boy’s perky answer. “Oh! I um- I was just here to pick up my cousin. He needed a ride home.” He’s looking at the floor and kicking the small pebbles, rolling them under his shoe.

Your mouth makes an ‘o’ shape and you nod, suddenly uncomfortable with the awkward atmosphere. “What about you guys?” Heeseung also asks a stupid question and you notice the way he disappointedly shakes his head at himself. “We stayed at school a little later to work on our projects so we just decided to get dinner here before they drop me off at home.” You glance shyly at the taller boy, still in awe of how angelic he looks with his new hair.

“Oh you must be tired then! I’ll let you get home, uh, see you tomorrow?” He stutters out and you smile to yourself. “Yeah, Hee, I’ll see you tomorrow.” You walk by him and pat his arm as your friends follow behind you. “That was so painful to watch.” Sunghoon shivers, which in return gets him demoted to the back seat of the car while you steal the front.

✶

“You’re not gonna kill me are you?”

Heeseung wishes he was joking but after you sent him the infamous ‘can we talk?’ text, he couldn’t stop sweating and overthinking what you could’ve possibly wanted to talk about. “If I wanted to kill you I wouldn’t be meeting up with you under a giant tree in the middle of campus.” You giggle as you sit down on the old bench, patting the spot next to you.

As Heeseung sits down, you can’t help the small blush that heats up your cheeks at how close he decided to sit. Close enough that he’s suddenly wrapping an arm around your shoulder and tugging you to sit with your thigh pressing against his. You turn to him with wide eyes and he immediately caves into himself, snaking his arm back towards his own body.

“Sorry- I just thought maybe you’d like that but I guess I should’ve known not to…considering I can guess the reason we’re here.” He mumbles while watching his hands fidget with each other in his lap, and you feel a pang in your heart at his sudden drop in confidence. “No, Hee.” You grab his anxious hands, holding both of them in between yours, “I did want to talk to you about that, but not for the reason you think.”

He visibly perks up, eyes bright and hopeful but his teeth are still nibbling nervously on his bottom lip. “I know we kind of started off fast- with this whole thing between us…” He nods attentively as you speak, “and I know I never really asked you what we are.” Heeseung’s heart beats faster with every word you speak.

“That’s just something I’m used to- having no solid labels on relationships but I understand if that’s not what you want.” Heeseung gulps harshly as he lets you ramble, already knowing his answer to your upcoming question. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I genuinely really like you, and if you wanna-“ Your confession is cut short by the annoying ringing of a phone, and you break eye contact with Heeseung to check who is interrupting your rant.

Of course, it’s Sunghoon screeching on the other line. “Y/N! The boys and I need help with our projects so we’re coming to you! Where are you? Under the tree? We’ll check there for you.” Before you can speak a word, Sunghoon is cutting off your argument, “But-“ “No buts! We’re on our way.”

You give Heeseung an apologetic smile that quickly falls when your friends are already walking up to you. “Do you seriously need my help? You guys have taken more music classes than me!” You stand up and dust off any dirt left on your clothes. “Well…we just missed you and wanted to work on our projects together.” Jay is wrapping an arm around Sunghoon’s shoulder and the younger groans. “I don’t know why this guy lied, we know you would’ve agreed either way.”

You roll your eyes and sling your backpack onto your shoulder, obviously annoyed at your friends who interrupted your moment with Heeseung, once again. “You’re lucky I love you guys, and I haven’t even started my project yet.” You walk away as your four friends follow behind, tripping over each others feet.

The five of you make it into the music building, making your way through the indoor hallway and decide to work in one of the recording studios. You shyly glance at Heeseung to see him already looking at you. “What?” He leans over towards you once you sit on the studio couch and pull out your laptops. “Flashbacks?” His hand finds your thigh and you’re quick to pull it off, just in time for your other three friends to turn around and start a conversation.

“So what is the project about anyways?” Jake had obviously not been listening during the past few lectures. Jay sets his laptop down next to Jake’s, opening up his notebook which was filled with different information on music theory and genres. “Just experiment with the tools and see what comes easiest to you. Personally, I find alternative rock a fitting style for myself.”

You look over at Heeseung and find him already staring at you, something unrecognizable lingering in his eyes. “Hee?” You nudge him and brush a strand of hair off of his face. “You okay?” Your voice seems to snap him out, and he blinks rapidly before apologizing. “Was just zoning out I guess.” He starts taping away on his own laptop and you giggle at the Toy Story picture he has saved as his background.

“What about you Heeseung? Did you start yet?” Jay asks while reclining in his chair, arms stretching above his head as his shirt lifts up to show a sliver of honey skin. “Uhh, yeah I did start actually. I only have a few bars done though.” Heeseung doesn’t move his gaze from his computer screen as he chews on his bottom lip, a nervous habit you’ve picked up on.

“Play it.” Jay motions towards Heeseung, giving him an expecting look. “Alright…” Heeseung still hasn’t taken his eyes off of his screen, adjusting the volume before pressing play. A deep bass is heard with a few vocal effects added in, and you’re all nodding your heads to the rhythm when your heart drops at a sudden beat change.

Within the first ten seconds of the song, a moan of Heeseung’s name is heard loud and clear, followed by a beat signaling to lead the song into a more R&B feel. You pause, a chill crawling up your spine as you look over at Heeseung who has a proud smirk relaxed onto his face.

The song ends and he presses the space bar to pause it, quickly glancing over to the four of you to find your reactions. “So?” He relaxes back on the couch that suddenly feels too small for the two of you. “What do you guys think?” He’s overly cocky, something you have yet to get used to. “It’s really good…” Jake is speaking hesitantly while looking next to him at Sunghoon, who just nods his head in agreement. “But…what was that at the beginning?” His question makes your heart pound, knowing exactly what he’s referring to.

“What? My producer tag?” Heeseung has a causal smile on his lips. “It’s sexy isn’t it? Of course I had some help.” He places an arm around your shoulder and winks at you, but you’re quick to shove him off of you and run out of the room.

You don’t get far when you hear the studio door opening, and then the loud shut of the door echoing through the music building hallway. “What’s wrong, pretty?” Heeseung lands a hand on your shoulder, spinning you around shoving you against the wall. He places his forearm above your head, leaning in uncomfortably close. You have tears pouring down your cheeks but your face is stone cold.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” He leans in and his nose brushes against yours. One of his hands is suddenly grabbing your chin, turning your face so his nose is nudging your cheek bone instead. You squeeze your eyes shut and feel his lips gently kiss your jaw. Heeseung then sticks his tongue out, licking a long stripe from your jaw to your eye, collecting the freshly fallen tear that had collected on your cheek.

The sensation of his warm, wet muscle dragging along your face makes your stomach turn in both disgust and something you’d be too ashamed to admit. “You wanted to be mine, no?” He brings your face back to look at him and presses a soft kiss to your quivering bottom lip. “Wanted everyone to know you’re mine?” His words make heat pool in your lower stomach and you subconsciously close your legs tight, rubbing your thighs together softly.

“Look at you.” He coos, running a hand through your hair. “You like this, hm? So dirty.” His words make you nod instinctively and he smiles at how easily you fold for him. “Why don’t we get back in there, don’t want to worry your boys.” You nod instinctively again, bringing a hand up to wipe your face and walk away as Heeseung follows behind.

You enter the room hesitantly, cheeks burning from embarrassment as your friends’ eyes are filled with worry. You avoid eye contact when sitting back down, immediately burning holes into the screen of your laptop so you didn’t have to face the awkward atmosphere. Heeseung sits next to you and places a hand on your thigh, fingers gently tapping to a random rhythm.

You let out a shaky breath and try to change the subject, hoping to get everyone’s eyes off of you. “Who wants to play theirs next?”

✶

Resentment

Anger

Shame

You couldn’t shake the embarrassment you felt for the rest of the day. Hanging out with your friends never felt so humiliating, even after you had gotten home and relaxed in bed, you couldn’t help the tears from falling. Yet, you weren’t finding yourself angry at Heeseung. Just angry at how embarrassed you had felt afterwards.

Of course, with such a close friend group there wasn’t such thing of hiding secretes or being “too extreme”. Your friends were your everything and had been there with you throughout all of your relationships, hearing every single detail from your side.

However, having your sexuality exposed by someone else felt humiliating and destructive. You knew Heeseung hadn’t necessarily meant to humiliate you in front of your friends, despite not knowing the actual reason for him using such a private moment in such a light manner.

No matter how embarrassed you felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to be upset at him. Even after you cried yourself to sleep that night, and even after you had spent the whole next day sulking in bed. Eventually your friends were sick of pitying you and decided to plan a movie night at your apartment; showing up with snacks and stacks of movies, grabbing you by the ankles and dragging you out of bed.

As you sat on the couch while your friends argued over which movie to watch first, you couldn’t help but zone out with your head flooding with thoughts of Heeseung. As if your brains Bluetooth connected, Jake leaned over to comfort you, something you’d never get tired of.

“I know you’re thinking about him.” He sends you a firm glance, communicating that you have no reason in lying. “Do you miss him?” You nod insecurely at his question, ashamed to admit it. “Why don’t you invite him? I know we’re doing this to get your mind off of him but maybe it’ll help if you just talk to him.” Jake rubs your back gently and you take a deep breath, releasing it as you whisper in agreement.

Now, you’re sat with Heeseung on your bed while your friends watch horror movies and eat the snacks they brought for you. “I don’t want them to interrupt us again so I’m just gonna get straight to the point.” You glance at Heeseung before looking away towards a poster on your wall. “I like you a lot, Hee. And I know you feel the same, and I know you want us to be exclusive. So, I think we have to set some boundaries and know exactly what we want in a relationship if you really want to be with me.” Heeseung nods along to everything you say, and you start listing off the expectations you have for him as he does the same.

You haven’t realized how much time had passed while talking to Heeseung until you notice the silence coming from downstairs, and you peek your head out of your door to hear three different sets of snores coming from your friends. You sit back on your bed and take note of how comfortable Heeseung looks next to you.

Of course, this isn’t the first time you had Heeseung in your room sitting on your bed. However, it was the first time you had gone this long with him on your bed without lunging at him. That didn’t last long though as you’re suddenly climbing onto his lap, pressing your lips harshly against his.

“Missed you so much.” You’re mumbling against his lips and he’s pulling back to laugh at you. “It’s only been like two days, you’re that obsessed with me?” His teasing makes you blush and duck your head into his neck. “You’ve literally liked me since high school and I’m the one obsessed with you?” You’re arguing back and now Heeseung is the one blushing.

Instead of responding, he connects your lips and flips over, laying you softly against the bed. Your tongue invades his mouth and he welcomes it eagerly, whining into the kiss as he sucks on your bottom lip. “For not having much experience you’re so good at kissing, Hee.” You compliment him and notice the way his eyes glimmer with confidence.

“Better than Jake?” His question catches you off guard and you’re confused until you realize what he’s referencing. “What- how do you know about that?” You’re sitting up now, slowly scooting away from Heeseung. “Well, it wasn’t exactly like you guys were hiding in a private area.” His hand finds your cheek and caresses it, thumb playing with your bottom lip.

You sit still in shock, not realizing that Heeseung had known one of your most private secrets for so long. “I mean, behind the school? You know so many kids go back there to do God knows what, I just happened to be back there and seen you guys.” As he speaks, your fingers are playing with your bed sheet nervously, twisting the fabric until your fingertips turn white.

“Do you know how upset I was?” He was puling you back under him by your waist, kissing you harshly with no time to react. “To see him get what I wanted? To see him touch what’s mine.” You’re looking up at him in pure shock, not realizing how badly he had wanted you for so long.

“That was just a one time thing- you know that!” You’re quick to defend yourself but Heeseung just caresses your cheek and smiles. “I know baby, I know you only want me now.” You nod against his lips as he kisses you again, before he pulls away for the nth time. “Wont let anyone else have you. You’re mine now.” One hand finds your throat and gently squeezes as the other still cups your cheek, feeling the way your jaw moves while your tongue laps against his.

Releasing your lips from his own, he kisses your from your chin down to your jaw and neck, gently sucking the warm skin before making his way to your collarbone. His hands travel up your sides, squeezing the flesh of your waist comfortingly and you ease into his touch.

“Heeseung…” you whine as he nips at the skin covering your collarbone, leaving small barely-visible teeth marks. “Heeseung, I need you.” He smiles against your neck, inhaling your addicting natural scent. Your hands grab his hips, pulling him closer as you shift your own upwards, chasing the friction of your bodies together.

He takes this opportunity to grind his hips down, immediately groaning at the feeling of your core against him. Your hands slide up his back and into his hair, pulling him down to kiss you again. As your lips connect, you’re caught in a mess of tongue sucking and teeth clashing while you amateurishly grind your lower halves together.

You pull away and feel yourself grow more aroused at the sight of Heeseung’s chin shining from the mix of your saliva, assuming yours also looks the same. “Need you now.” He nods and lifts your shirt up your chest and over your head, eyes widening at your lack of bra. “Not the first time you’ve seen them, Hee.” You remind him but you still feel slightly prideful that your body hasn’t become any less admirable to him.

He sucks and bites at the skin of your chest, one hand softly rolling your nipple in his fingers while his warm mouth finds the other. Your back arches off of the bed, pushing your body impossibly closer to Heeseung’s and he groans when you pull his hair harshly. “You like that?” You pull his hair again and he huffs a shaky breath onto your skin. “You like when it hurts?” He grinds his hips down in response, laying his cheek flat on your chest.

“No matter how cute you think it is, I jdon’t want to cum in my pants like a virgin.” Despite his words, he’s still grinding into you almost painfully rough. “But you are a virgin.” You cup his face and bring his face to look you in the eyes. “Not for much longer…I hope.” His eyes are sparkling and hopeful and you can’t help but place a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “It’ll be much longer if you don’t undress me right now.”

His hands move quickly as he rushes to tug your pajama pants down, only stopping for a moment to admire your cute panties before he’s pulling them down too. He notices the way you’re shyly grabbing a small blanket to cover yourself and sends you a worried look, only for you to point back at him. “You’re still fully clothed.” You giggle and push him away. “You haven’t even taken your socks off!” You tease him and he shakes his head before swiftly pulling his shirt over his head.

You watch in awe as he undresses, admiring his naked body for the first time. As you pull the blanket away from your own body, you assume he’s doing the same when you catch him almost drooling over you. With a beckoning of your hand, he’s quickly hovering over you again, this time with two fingers between your legs.

“Have to prep you, baby. Don’t want to hurt you too bad.” You can’t even respond as he slides a thick finger into you, curling it upwards while his thumb rubs circles in your clit. “More.” You’re quiet but Heeseung has always been good at listening to you, and he pulls his finger out slowly just to push it back in with a second one. You can’t help your hips from grinding against his palm as he has two fingers knuckle deep inside of you.

You grab his wrist and he looks at you in worry, just to be met with low, lust-filled eyes. “Cant wait any longer.” Your voice is seductive and Heeseung feels his heart hammering against his chest. “Fuck, okay.” He adjusts himself, ready to push into you until he’s stopping abruptly. “Condom. I don’t have a condom.” He sounds panicked, secretly worried that finally getting to have you will have to be postponed.

To his luck, you just shake your head and reach for his neck, pulling his lips down to yours. “Don’t need one. I’m taking one of your firsts today so I want you to take one of mine.” Heeseung’s feels his heart grow as he’s honored to be the first guy you take raw, and he will make sure that he’s also the last.

Lining up to your entrance again, he slides his tip against your folds a few times, coating his length in your slick that is now pooling onto your bed. He slowly pushes in, head falling forward to rest in your neck as the overwhelming squeeze of your walls sucks him in. “F-fuck.” He curse breathily and you can’t help but moan at how arousing just hearing his voice is.

He’s bottoms out fully and your back arches up, feeling him deep enough to know your cervix could end up bruised. He wraps an arm around your waist to keep your back lifted off of the bed as he slowly pulls out and then slides back in. Your eyes roll back, unable to form a single thought when he starts finding a solid pace, fucking into you gently.

“Harder.” You moan through the word and watch the way he lifts off of you, grabbing your hips and pinning you to the bed. As if something in him switched, he’s keeping you pinned as his hips snap almost painfully fast, hitting the most sensitive spots inside of you with each thrust.

“Oh-fuck, Heeseung!” You’re sure the three boys downstairs have been woken from their deep slumber by now with how loud you’re moaning and the sounds of skin slapping. “Fuck I’m so close already, I’m sorry.” Heeseung sounds pathetic as he whines into your neck.

One hand is digging your fingernails into his broad back as the other guides his face towards yours. You kiss him once before sticking your tongue out and looking him deep in the eyes. He’s unsure of what you’re doing before a lightbulb goes off in his brain. Wrapping a hand around your neck, he squeezes harshly as he lets his spit glide from his lips into your mouth, then connects your lips to his before you could swallow.

The disgusting amount of saliva in your mouth allows your tongues to glide together easily and Heeseung moans loudly at the feeling. “God-I think I’m gonna cum.” Just as the shaky words leave his mouth, you feel a tight knot form inside of you and hearing him sound so fucked out only made you crash over the edge. His thrusts are messy and his eyes are squeezing shut, hoping to last a little longer for you.

“Come on baby, cum with me, need it so bad please-.” You’re barely able to get the words out before you’re wrapping your arms around Heeseung’s neck and rocking your hips, cumming around him with a scream-like whine as your juices are squirting out of you. “Oh fuck-fuck!” Heeseung is groaning between clenched teeth, jaw tight as he struggles to hold back whimpers and moans but doesn’t last long when you’re trapping his bottom lip between your teeth.

He lets out the most pathetic, high pitched moan from his throat as he feels you suck on his lip while your cunt does the same to his cock still burried inside of you. He feels like he can’t stop cumming, spurts after spurts of warm liquid filling you up to the point where he’s forced to pull out of you.

As he does that, he watches the way your mixed liquids seep out of you, staining your bedsheets and thighs. You notice the way his whole abdomen up to his chest is glistening, feeling proud that he was able to make you squirt again but this time without his mouth.

He plops down next you and pulls you to lay your head on his chest. “I’ll clean you up right now, pretty. Just lay here for a bit.” You have never felt this happy after such an intimate moment, grateful that life had lead you to such a sweet and caring boy. You lay there for a few minutes until Heeseung throws his sweats on and finds a towel to clean you with, wetting it with warm water before wiping you up gently.

“Why are you the one doing this? I just took your virginity, you should be the one getting princess treatment.” You’re only half joking but Heeseung doesn’t care, kissing your forehead and removing the dirty sheets off of your bed and instead throwing together some random extra blankets he found. He cuddles up next to you, pulling your body so close to his that you think you can hear his heartbeats. “Doesn’t matter the situation, I’ll always take care of my girl.”

✶

Heeseung is a great boyfriend, even if sometimes he can be overly confident and grope you in public or wouldn’t stop bragging to your friends about how perfect you are, resulting in your cheeks burning red and hot to the touch. You’ve noticed the way he get protective over you even with your own friends; sitting between you and Jake or even eating all of the ramen before Sunghoon comes over just out of spite.

Even after two weeks of being official, having Heeseung still doesn’t feel real. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never been treated this well in a relationship, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve never had someone be this in love with you. So in love that he threatens to bite the hand of many who even looks your way.

So, when Heeseung finds himself back at another party, mixing up a concoction of random liquids, he barely notices the way his red solo cup is reaching it’s limit. Too focused on the way a way-too-friendly guy has been hitting on you all night, he doesn’t even care about the amount of alcoholic beverages he’s filling his cup with.

Sometimes he feels embarrassed by how badly he wants you, and now that he has you, he doesn’t know how to handle his jealousy. That’s why when the guy brushes a strand of hair out of your face, Heeseung takes the wrong road and decides he’s done being the pathetic and needy boyfriend you’re used to.

While you’re sitting on the disgusting frat couch with suspicious stains on the cushions, you can’t help but worry that Heeseung is taking too long to get another drink. Your other three friends are somewhere else, off getting shit faced drunk while you’re left alone to protect yourself from this man who has been following you around all night.

You noticed the way he would back off when you’re with Heeseung, but as soon as your boyfriend is a few feet away, you’re being flirted with and touched in uncomfortable ways. Now that Heeseung has been gone for a few long minutes, your struggling to fight off the man’s wandering hands that trail from your shoulder to your lower back, wincing when his hand doesn’t move even after you tug on his wrist.

He just laughs, pointing to the corner of a room and whispers uncomfortably close to your ear. “That’s your man?” You follow his finger, heart dropping when you watch the way Heeseung is towering over a small, almost too-perfect girl. The same girl who had the nerve to call you a slut in the middle of campus.

You don’t miss the way she looks over her shoulder, smirking when she catches you staring. She turns back to Heeseung with a pretty smile, reaching up to trail her fingertips across his arm and you feel your heart crumble.

You reach your breaking point, shoving the clingy man off of you so hard he stumbles against the stairs, landing hard on his ass. You don’t even glance back at him as you make your way around the house, eventually finding all three of your friends swimming in the backyard pool with their jeans and white shirts now soaking.

You hurry to them, explaining that you don’t feel well and that you need to go home. “Are you okay? Where’s Heeseung?” Your boyfriend’s name coming out of Sunghoon’s mouth was enough for you to break down, covering your face with your hand as tears spill from your eyes. “What the fuck happened, Y/N? What did he do?” Jay’s voice is stern and demanding but you know he’s not frustrated with you. “I’ll go find him-“ Jake is cut off when you grab his wrist, pulling him back towards your circle.

“I don’t want to see him right now, just take me home.” As if the universe is testing you, said boyfriend is walking up to your friend group with an unreadable expression before you can plan your escape. “Hey, pretty. What’s wrong?” His question infuriates you more and you find yourself rushing forward and harshly pushing his chest.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you!?” Your voice is horse as you cry, a few strangers now looking in your direction. Heeseung take’s note of this, suddenly grabbing you by the arm and rushing inside of the house. The lights and music blur your senses, and you’re unable to tell what’s going on until your back is being pressed up against a bathroom sink.

Heeseung’s lips quickly find their way to yours, biting and sucking harshly as you continue to cry. “Stop, Heeseung. I’m not in the mood.” You shove his shoulder and he pulls away with an irritated look. “Why not? Did that guy not agree to fuck you?” His words are sharp and mean.

You gasp offendedly, a hurt expression making its way onto your face. “What the fuck are you talking about? I don’t want to fuck him!” You’re yelling again and Heeseung presses his index finger to your lips. “That’s not what it looked like when you were letting him feel you up.” Heeseung is calm and it irritates you more at how confident he’s being despite being wrong.

You feel your eyes start tearing up again, looking away from your boyfriend’s angelic face. “I wasn’t letting him.” Your voice is quiet and weak. “I couldn’t stop him and you-you weren’t there to help me. You knew he was preying on me but you still left me alone.” You can’t stop the warm tears from sliding down your cheeks.

Heeseung takes a step back, eyes now softer and habitually nibbling on his bottom lip. “Fuck, baby, I’m sorry.” He cups your face with both hands, eyes locking with yours before he brings you into a tight hug. “I was just so mad that he was trying to get at you, I wanted to make you feel the same way. Didn’t even realize how uncomfortable you were, I’m sorry.” You swear you hear him sniffle as he apologizes, squeezing your body tighter.

“It’s…it’s fine, Hee. You’re new to this relationship stuff so I’ll just have to teach you, I guess.” You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, calming the both of you down. He takes a few shaky breaths before pulling back from the hug and kissing you again, soft and sweet like he’s thanking you for being so patient.

Maybe you’ll just have to get used to him having these ups and downs. Sure, he isn’t the most confident and might be immature and reckless sometimes, but that’s all a part of learning. You want to allow him to experience these harsh moments and teach him how to overcome them. Even if it hurts you in the process, you’ll do anything to be with Heeseung and he’d do anything to be with you, because after so long, you’re finally his.

#enhypen smut #enhypen x female reader #heeseung smut #lee heeseung smut #heeseung x female reader

[mikerztmf]

two ppl asked and i shall deliver!! so have a whole essay about jake-centric drake 👍👍

the natural place to start talking about jake's feelings about drew is near the start of their friendship: the freshman scene in ep9. i think this scene (and ep11) is one of the few points where you can really tell what jake thinks of drew. and to sum it up, he thinks pretty highly of him.

it's never super obvious, but when you think about it, drew really meant so much to jake. because drew was really jake's first friend after middle school, the first person to ever accept him so easily. BUT, he couldn't necessarily tell drew that, bc he'd be forced to open up about his past and his passion for music (which is like. the one thing he doesn't want to do)

and imo, jake caring about drew (and henriam ofc but this ain't abt them) and genuinely wanting to be friends is sort of... integral to who he is as a character, in a way. jake changed himself to keep drew, bc he cared about what drew thought of him. whether or not he was right, jake assumed that drew would bully him/drop him if he ever found out that he liked music. jake didn't wanna lose drew, so he kept quiet and lied. it obviously wasn't RIGHT, but still, it's what he does.

once he got closer to the music club, things got way more complicated though, because jake's lies became more than just lies of omission. and eventually, he grew distant towards drew around eps8-10. HOWEVER, i dont think he was really aware that he was doing it, or that he was inherently being an asshole/bad friend on purpose???

i think that's proven in the drake fight. like, jake lied to protect his friendship with drew, but it obviously backfired on him in the long run ("how am i supposed to know anything about your passion when you don't tell me anything anymore!?"). so jake only actually realised his mistakes, especially how badly he treated drew in the past month of canon, when they were thrown in his face by DREW HIMSELF.

and you see jake himself be surprised before quickly cracking, because he realised that drew was right. he has been lying for years. and it's sorta important to think abt the words here. "if you care so much about your friends, jake, why don't you spit out the truth already?!" ...quickly followed by jake spitting out the truth. not only did (and probably still does) jake care about drew, but he also considered them friends! WHICH ALSO EXPLAINS "nice to know we were never really friends." "that's not...! drew..."

jake trying to defend himself shows that even after everything, he still viewed drew as a friend, and wanted drew to hear him out and stay in his life. like, idk, after he came clean, jake still cared about what drew thought, and hoped that he'd want to still be his friend too.

i talked abt this in my last essay, but jake was so broken up after the fight. sure, it looked like he'd moved on, but the way he thought he saw the jomies at the competition + the right now mep part just kinda proved that he hadn't. and idk, i can only imagine that it hurts - losing your first friend, and only having yourself to blame because you lied to his face in an attempt to keep him.

LMAO SO IDK i think jake sort of did value drew as a friend, and that maybe, just maybe, drake is not as unrequited as people think?? imo their issue wasn't really that it was one-sided, but bc they never told eachother how much they valued eachother (for whatever reason)

#the music freaks #drake tmf #plum peach tmf #this was like 500-600 words im so sorry #i have my own thoughts abt the delusion of jake developing a CRUSH on drew actually #but i didn't wanna go too deep into it here bc i wanted to focus on what's canon

[betterbooktitles]

What makes a Jesuit boys’ school so entertaining is the irreverence in the face of certain damnation. There were adult authority figures, some imbued with the ability to forgive Mortal Sin, telling us we were going to Hell if we didn’t take our morality seriously. In response, we laughed and cracked jokes. We laughed so hard, in part, because the stakes were so high. If you could mock the Most Important Question, you could likely laugh off anything.

Humor was what opened me up to the idea that I didn’t share the values of the men teaching me to be a “good” person. Humor also taught me that I didn’t have to accept any of it.

The first time I heard shade thrown at the Theology department was during my freshman year when my favorite teacher sitting in a room in the fourth floor English department, in an entirely separate building from the Theology and History classrooms asked “what movie are they showing you over there this week?” It was true that for half the year, Theology teachers showed movies 40 minutes at a time to make important philosophical points. They screened The Matrix, Life is Beautiful (watched in tandem with our reading of Man’s Search for Meaning), and, my personal favorite The Shawshank Redemption which they showed to us in the summer before 9th grade to let us know what Jesuit school would resemble: something close to surviving solitary confinement. If you had music in your mind, you might make it out. I don’t doubt the efficacy of showing these movies to us to teach moral lessons. It was a better strategy than trying to force teenagers to read. I had never heard anyone mock the department, though, especially not another teacher.

To be clear, this scrutiny, at least of the lay teachers in the Theology department was justified. They fed us one-sided anti-intellectual drivel that had almost nothing to do with Catholic Dogma. Instead of learning about a biblical text, we spent hours listening to a guy tell us evolution was “just a theory,” that being gay was a choice, and that abortion was wrong in any instance (whatever your personal beliefs, understand that it’s kind of hard to hear both sides of that argument at an all-male school where the adult men were the authority on ethics). Then they showed us clips from Fox News of Terri Schiavo and told us the “correct” Christian response to the news.

One day, again in my freshman year when I was scared to question anything because of an inordinate fear that I could be thrown out of school at any moment, our Theology teacher pressed play on The Emperor’s Club (a 2002 Kevin Kline movie about a boy’s prep school that served in our teacher’s mind as some ethic antithesis to the more beloved (and frankly more entertaining) Dead Poets Society). A student in the back row raised his hand, and our teacher paused the movie. We sat in the dark room and rolled our eyes. Make this quick, buddy. We’ve got a movie to watch here!

“Jeff?” our teacher said, lifting his eyebrows.

“Yes, I was wondering about the prayer we read before class today,” Jeff said. He was a senior, a bit portly which was only noticeable because many kids did not bother buying new dress shirts every year. Once the stress of school forced you to eat your feelings four years in a row, you wound up with a gut putting pressure on your old shirts’ buttons. “It says in the prayer…” Jeff continued, “that Jesus descended into Hell. What’s that about?” 

“Well,” our teacher said, looking excited to finally talk about religion instead of answering some weird kid’s question about the ethics of having sex with aliens should they ever land on Earth, “according to scripture, we know the gates of Heaven were closed for a time, so when Jesus died he descended into hell first to free other righteous souls…”

“Yeah, a quick follow-up on that,” Jeff said, sounding interested, “does anyone believe this shit?” 

The cackles that erupted in the room nearly overwhelmed our teacher’s angry tirade. Jeff was sent to the Vice Principal’s office to await his judgment. It hadn’t occurred to me until that moment you were allowed not only to question those teaching us about religion but you were allowed to reject the faith altogether. 

From there, every argument began to collapse, mostly through funny moments:

A teacher tried to tell us IVF was wrong because “you have to jerk off into a cup. It’s not right.” One kid announced: “I’ve done weirder!” Guffaws. Cheers.

Another teacher claimed gay sex was always wrong because the sex itself was not ‘open to creating human life,’ to which a brave gay student volunteered “Oh, I’m open to it. I’ll keep trying and let you know if there’s a miracle.” Applause. 

When a teacher said video games could be considered a sin if they distract you from work, someone, half-asleep in the front row, let out a loud “Ah, shut up!” that made us all giggle.

My fellow students weren’t playing the game, arguing with the teacher on his terms, using logic. They were dismissing the arguments flippantly, and no adult could reply unless they were funny themselves. 

Read the rest here.

#funny #lit #lol #writing #dan wilbur #essays #essay #long post #long reads #atheist #atheism #religion #catholic #catholic school #literature #humor #better book titles #books #reading #memoir

[love-toxin]

Monsters viii. "You think I'm ugly, don't you? I don't blame you…" with a vampire Eddie? Who’s got fangs and wings and think he’s scary and a real freak now, and that you can’t love him anymore... 😣

🥺🥺🥺

viii. "You think I'm ugly, don't you? I don't blame you..."

(cws: vampire eddie, post-vol II, blood, smoking, burns, confessions, established friendship)

"It's me!" He had cried, flinching away from your panicked scream as you swung a hatchet at him, barely missing him by a hair. The pitch of his voice had shaken you then, stopped you in your tracks as you had reared up again, and....his heart cracked into pieces when that recognition flickered across your face. His name left your lips so softly, and had he not been listening, he wouldn't have heard it at all. "Yeah, it...it's me. It's Eddie, sweetheart."

You've been sitting in relative silence since then, poised on the back step of your house. Nobody's home and nobody's out at this time of night, and yet you perch there with a cigarette suffering between your lips, the poor thing draining fast as you try to suck some kind of release out of it. Some amount of nicotine that will calm your nerves enough to say something, to say anything.

"I...thought...you were dead." You mumble out into the silence.

"I was."

Your head swivels to look at him, finally, and yet he can't find the strength to look back at you yet. He's all too aware of how he must come off, his form already having proven to be a challenge too tough to swallow.

For one, his wings have sprouted--black and leathery, tipped with brutal claws, and showing veins as prominent as they would be on his skin if he had any blood left to run through them. His fangs are another problem, he's sure they're visible from where you're sitting because he's still getting used to having them in his mouth. He's paler. Colder. He can smell your sweat and your warm blood from where he's sitting.

And he wants a taste. Trying to keep it down. But it's so hard when you're right there.

"I was....dead...or as close to it, I guess, for a couple days. It was..."

Scary. It was so scary. He thought of you the whole time. Hoped you were still alive, hoped Steve and Nancy had managed to drag you out of that awful place--and secretly, he had hoped you hadn't forgotten about him. So seeing your first reaction to him like this, although he completely understands it, still stings whatever's left of his heart.

"....I was worried about you."

"Me?" You look back at him incredulously, the cigarette burning away in your hand. He just nods, but your reaction now sends a little shiver through him; your brow has softened, your features delicate, and you reach a hand out to close over his own. This time, you don't flinch, even though he's so cold compared to you. "Why?"

Why? It seems a simple answer, but it strangles itself into something tangled and confusing when it tries to leave his mouth. Something as simple as a silly crush should pale in comparison to facing his own death, but somehow, this is scarier. Eddie was always prepared to die--at some point, he expected it. But making his love for you a reality, accepting that his feelings are too big to keep hidden, trying for just a sliver of a chance that you might reciprocate the feelings he's had for you since freshman year.....that's the most terrifying image his mind can conjure up, demon bats and blood and dying in agony coming in second.

"Eddie?"

You push at his arm a bit, leaning in close to try and decipher that ponderous expression on his face--it isn't until you shuffle closer, and he feels your warmth closing in on him, that he lifts his head and meets your soft eyes with blood-red ones. You flinch back, but you come back to him, because you're...you're too sweet to say a negative word to him. But he knows. He scares you. He must.

"You think I'm ugly, don't you? I don't blame you..."

"Eddie-" As painful as it is, because he knows that otherwise he would relish in the feeling of your hand on his, he breaks your grip and moves as far away from you as he can on the step. He scrunches himself up as far as he can, making himself as small as he can manage despite his wings already being folded up behind his back. He draws his knees up to his chest, and wraps his arms around them to keep them tight, and even so he knows he's taking up too much space.

"...Did your date with that Sam kid ever work out? You were really excited about it. Have you got a boyfriend now? I-"

There's about a million more things he's got lined up in that still hyperactive brain, because he rambles when he doesn't know what else to do, when he's anxious and trying not to let you in to what he's really thinking, or what he really wants to say. Each word is a thin mask to throw over his true intentions, and he's not even really looking at you as he talks--that is, until a searing, yet momentary pain in his hand rips him out of his own head and punctuates the quiet air with a shriek. Looking down, you've dropped the flickering ember into the grass--you burned the back of his hand with your cigarette. The fire in your eyes rages harder and hotter, though, the frustration as clear as blood in water.

"I thought you were dead, Eddie," Your foot comes down hard on the smoldering cigarette in the grass, and your body follows by leaning on it as you stand up and off the step to tower over him. "You think I was thinking about some fucking blond in biology class?! I was mourning you!"

You shout, like you don't care about waking the neighbors at two am or even exposing Eddie's undead self to the townsfolk that pushed him towards his death.

"I don't think you're ugly," Your anger breaks with a sniffle, and this time his heart shatters that much harder as he watches your face contort as you try to hold back tears, and fail. "And I don't care if you're different now. I just wanted you back. I still do."

You might have collapsed into him where he sat, but Eddie's moving up to meet you, because he can't stop himself--you're so warm, you're blinding, and the moment his arms slip around you he feels the urge to sink his fangs as deep into your neck as it takes to draw blood. Such a violent urge terrifies him to his core, but it dulls quickly in the euphoria of touching you for the first time since then....since the day you hugged him goodbye, not knowing it would be the last time, and he regretted not telling you his feelings the second you turned to leave.

"I...I thought about how much I love you. I was worried you would never know. Every second..." He chokes, half on a sob and half a shiver of ecstasy at your body pressed up against his. "...I spent every second wishing I had kissed you, just once."

You shake your head while your face is still buried in his shoulder, before lifting it up to meet his gaze and watching as his eyes drop to your lips before they return to your own.

"Kiss me, then." Your voice crawls out, a whisper in the dark.

"I don't want to hurt you. I...I keep thinking about....your blood.." He answers, shaking gently like a leaf as he stands there, wishing he could just let his instincts win out and claim your lips right then and there. If he ever hurt you, especially in the way he is now, he would just want to throw himself off a bridge to atone for damaging such an angel.

"You can have it, Eddie." His attempt to turn away from you is futile, because you take your hand to his cheek and turn him back, fingers shifting to entangle themselves in his hair. And he soon realizes why--because it's the perfect grip for you to pull him in, and crush any more excuses with a kiss that feels as divine as heaven. No tongue or teeth or biting needs to be involved for him to get a shot of adrenaline straight to his rotted heart, his knees buckling to sink into the kiss like your touch is his lifeblood. And he knows, now. You are. "So long as you never leave me again."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie's angelface #vampire!eddie munson #st 4 #stranger things #ellie writes #ellie's halloween sentence starters

[thorfemmes]

Hii I got this idea because of seeing so many tiktoks of how the stranger things characters would react if they walked in on you changing and I was wondering how you think Eddie would react walking in on the reader naked or in the shower? Him and reader have been friends for a little while and he’s got a crush on them and then accidentally seeing them naked? Im sorry if this is stupid though😅 thank youu 💖

Hi! Thank you for the request. I'm lowkey obsessed with this one so I hope you enjoy!

a/n: both Eddie and reader have graduated high school in this and are 20+ years old.

Saturday nights were movie nights for you and Eddie. They have been since you met back in freshman year of high school and you discovered that you both loved Star Wars. This particular weekend, you had worked a double shift the night before and had basically slept most of Saturday.

When you finally got up, you had about three hours before Eddie was supposed to arrive (he was supposed to be at band practice at the moment, then he was going to swing by Family Video to pick up some movies for you to watch). You quickly ate a haphazardly thrown together meal, and set out the snacks and candy you got from your weekly grocery trip with Eddie.

It was kinda cute the little routine you both had. Mondays were saved for grocery shopping together, Saturdays were movie nights. Ever since you both graduated you had less time to spend together because of work so the little scheduled hang outs were cherished by you both.

Still having at least two hours, you hopped in the shower.

Meanwhile, across town Eddie was wrapping up band practice early. They didn't have a show next weekend and he was in a bit of a hurry to see you. But he was keeping it subtle of course, only checking his watch every 30 seconds to the point that Jeff called it in early.

Eddie rushed to Family Video, thinking it might be a nice surprise to arrive a little bit early. Anything to spend more time with you. He grabbed three VHS tapes so you had choices, darting the teasing from Robin and Steve.

When he arrived at your apartment he was surprised that you didn't answer the door right away. He could've sworn you didn't have work today. He reached up to the top of the doorway where you kept a key especially for him, and let himself in.

"Hey honey, I'm home!" He jokingly shouted throughout the apartment.

He didn't get a response, but heard shuffling in your room. He knocked on your bedroom door this time and still didn't get a response.

"Babe, you in there?"

He heard a muffled sound that sounded like "come in," so he quietly pushed your door open and was greeted by you with your headphones on and your Walkman playing, and your towel clad body just before you unwrapped yourself to get dressed.

"OH MY GOD!"

"OH MY GOD," You screamed, wrapping yourself back up again. "What are you doing?! There's no way it's five o'clock yet!"

"I was going to surprise you! Why are you listening to your Walkman wet out of the shower?!"

"My neighbors complained about my music!"

He looked you up and down, greedily enjoying your almost naked body. His eyes widened, realizing what he was doing. "Oh my God!"

He quickly shut your door and went and sat on your couch, sitting up straight and twiddling his thumbs like a child in trouble.

You cleared your throat to announce your presence. "So, what movie choices do we have tonight?"

He smirked at your ability to quickly change the subject. "Uh, we've got Little Shop of Horrors, Nightmare on Elm Street 2, and House".

"Ooh a horror night. Let's start with Little Shop of Horrors. Let me grab the snacks".

As the night went on, tension grew. While you'd usually be cuddled up together cracking jokes about the movies, you sat on opposite sides of your couch -stealing glances at one another. Halfway through the second film you'd had enough. Grabbing the remote and pausing it, you turned to look at him with a huff.

"Can we talk about it? You saw me naked".

"Yes I did, y/n," You cringed, he never called you by your name. "I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have been snooping. I shoulda waited in the living room".

"Yeah, but it happens right? Sometimes friends accidentally flash each other?"

"I mean, not really but, eh".

"Eh?"

"N-no! You're not 'eh'! Far from it!" He was rambling now. "You're actually kinda hot".

You raised your eyebrows. "I'm hot?"

"Very. I've always thought so, but that just confirmed it".

You didn't know what to say. Neither did Eddie, he was surprised that he even said anything.

"So I'm hot, and you've always thought so?"

"Yep".

"Okay".

You both sat in silence, taking in what he said.

"Look y/n, I just-" He took a deep breath. "I've always been attracted to you. I've liked you for a while now. I just didn't want to ruin what we have".

"How long?"

"Since sophomore year, when we went to that triple feature of all the Star Wars movies and I made you laugh so hard you choked on popcorn".

You smiled widely. Crawling over to him, you gently grabbed his hand and rested your head on his shoulder. "You know, I've had the biggest crush on you too. Pretty much since I met you, so it's really comforting to know you feel the same way. Even if it had to come out this way," You laughed and nudged his shoulder.

He laughed with you before going silent. Looking into your eyes with his large, kind brown eyes he quietly asked "Can I kiss you?"

"Please do".

And finally, finally your lips connected.

#Eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x y/n #ask #anon #writing #eddie munson x plus size reader

[leiawritesstories]

I've been playing with a prompt idea in my head, which could have all the fluff you want. Also it's not as much a prompt, as it is one sentence 😅 do as you wish with it, you always create magic with whatever you write ❤

"There's nothing like a natural disaster to bring two people together"

first of all, thank you so much, it made me tear up to know that someone enjoys my little stories this much ❤️❤️❤️

but enough sappiness! here have a lil fic!

word count: 2,324

warnings: language, idiots in love, thunderstorms

enjoy!!

Thanks To The Thunderstorm

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

There’s nothing quite like a natural disaster to bring two people together. 

And gods, Aelin had never thought she’d be thankful that she hated thunderstorms as much as she did. But it was her relationship with storms that had led to her relationship with her now-fiancé, so would she complain? Hell no. 

Rowan and Aelin had been best friends since high school, the two of them near inseparable after they were assigned to be conversation partners in Spanish class and struck up a friendship. They had very different life goals but ended up deciding to go to the same university, the University of Rifthold, and neither of them knew the other had decided to go there until college declaration day at their school, when they both showed up wearing UR gear, Aelin in a t-shirt and Rowan in a sweatshirt. 

A sweatshirt that was now unofficially hers. 

Though they’d met all kinds of people and expanded their friend group greatly during their freshman year, Rowan and Aelin stayed close, remained each other’s 2-am person, the one person that the other trusted to call or text in the middle of the night knowing they’d be there to talk. Perhaps it helped that Rowan was the one with the car, because he offered to drive Aelin home anytime he was headed back to Orynth during a break. 

At the end of freshman year, they decided to carpool home together, after Aelin moved a bunch of her dorm stuff into a storage unit that she shared with three of her friends. The drive was fifteen hours, so they decided to split it over two days and spend a night in a hotel in Perranth, which was just about the halfway point of their trip home. And they’d take turns driving, so neither of them got too tired at the wheel. 

Everything went smoothly, the first nine hours of the drive passing by relatively uneventfully, save for the handful of patches of congested traffic. Rowan grumbled under his breath when they got stuck in traffic, cursing that other drivers couldn’t bother to go the speed limit. 

“Ro, they can’t help being idiots.” 

“Can’t they be idiots going road speed?” 

Aelin snickered. “Obviously not, there’s not enough brainpower for that.” 

He cracked a smile. “Damn, I forgot about that. Guys only being able to think with one of their body parts and all that.” He wiggled his brows wickedly. 

She wheezed. “Shit, Ro! What, you spend a year with a bunch of horny freshmen guys or something?”

“Something like that,” he smirked. “Ae, you’ve met my roommate. Abd probably some of the girls he kept bringing in on the weekends.” 

Not just the weekends,” she reminded him. 

“Ugh,” Rowan groaned. “Thank the fucking gods I’m not rooming with him next year.” 

“Nah, you’re rooming with someone worse,” Aelin snickered. 

He shrugged. “Lorcan’s not a bad person, Ae, he’s just--”

“Grumpy?” 

“Grumpy,” Rowan agreed. 

Out of the last bit of congestion. they had a smooth drive to Perranth, arriving at the hotel around nine o’clock. The sky, gray and cloudy all day, had gone darker, the wind beginning to gust as if in warning, the threat of a downpour hanging heavy in the air. Rowan parked, turned off the car, and released a deep, heartfelt groan of relief. “We’re here.” 

“Oh thank all the gods,” Aelin sighed. “I was about to fall asleep in this seat, and trust me, Ro, your car and my spine would not agree.” 

“C’mon, then,” he laughed. “Let’s get you into a real bed, yeah?” 

She had to take a second to force down the sparks that Rowan’s casual words sent shooting through her nerve endings. Get your shit together, AAG! He’s your best friend, nothing more. “Simmer down,” she shot back, “some of us need to stretch out.” 

Rowan refrained from commenting, just waited until she’d climbed out of his car and then grabbed his backpack and her personal suitcase and headed into the hotel building with her, where he quickly checked in at the front desk, got the room keys, and handed one to her. “Room 411,” he said, leading her over to the elevators. 

“Ro, I’m more than capable of carrying my own suitcase,” she teased, pushing the elevator call button. 

He glanced down at the luggage in his hands. “I don’t mind, Ae.” 

“Such a gentleman.” 

He rolled his eyes. “Indeed, fair lady,” he deadpanned, putting on his fakest British accent. 

Aelin giggled and let him carry her suitcase into the elevator and down the hall when they got to their floor. “Oh, gods,” she groaned as she opened the door to the room. “Sleep!” She plopped her backpack atop one of the beds, waited for Rowan to put down her suitcase before unzipping it and grabbing her pajamas and toiletries, and then headed right into the bathroom, the shower turning on a moment later. 

She emerged about half an hour later toweling her damp hair, comfortable and sleepy in her old Nirvana t-shirt and sleep shorts, and gods fucking dammit, Rowan’s mind went to several truly impossibly places at the sight of her. Get your shit together, Whitethorn! She’s your best friend, and you’ve got no right to be staring at her or thinking those fucking things. “You about done hogging the one bathroom?” he teased, barely managing to mask the way his voice rasped. 

Aelin shot him a rude gesture. “Yes, and you can go primp now,” she returned. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone that I know how many products you use.” 

He sighed, grabbing his own pajamas and toothbrush before ducking into the bathroom. Where he took a shower that was significantly colder than he would have preferred, using the bracing temperature to ground himself in reality. By the time he emerged, Aelin was tucked into her bed, her adorably oversized reading glasses propped on her nose, buried in her current novel. She only murmured a good-night, she was so absorbed in her story. Rowan clicked off his bedside lamp and rolled onto his side facing away from her, left he fall asleep to the image of her face, least the sight of the girl who owner his whole heart worm into his dreams. 

Again. 

Aelin clicked off her lamp shortly later, exhaling softly as she settled into the hotel bed’s soft covers. Outside the window, raindrops began splattering against the glass, the first wave of the promised storm. She drifted off to the pattering sound, having always found the rain calming. 

Then jerked awake at the first clap of thunder not quite a couple hours later, the storm yanking her out of sleep. She shifted, tucking herself deeper into the covers, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths. “It’s just a storm,” she whispered, “just a storm. It can’t hurt me.” Her mother had taught her to speak those words when she was just a little girl, so terrified of the rumbling thunder and blazing flashes of lightning that she’d burrow into her parents’ bed whenever there was a storm, screwing her eyes shut against the onslaught and taking refuge in her parents’ arms. “Just a storm,” she whispered again, bracing herself against the stormy symphony. 

Lighting blazed across the sky, a streak of white breaking through the curtains for an instant. Aelin whimpered softly, curling tighter under the blankets, and started counting under her breath. One, two, three, fo--Thunder rumbled through the night, the storm a mere three and a half(ish) miles away. She tucked the blankets closer around herself, willing her breath to stop fucking heaving as she tried in vain to calm down her racing pulse. 

Across the room, Rowan’s bed creaked, shifting with him as he rolled over, half-awake, and cracked open his eyes to check on her. “Aelin?” he whispered, his soft voice roughened with sleep. And again, “Aelin?” 

Another blaze of lightning turned her planned response into a whimper. She screwed her eyes shut and started counting. One, two, three, four, five--five seconds before the thunderclap. 

“Aelin?” Rowan’s murmur was closer this time, paired with his padding footsteps as he circled around to face her, concern shining in his green eyes. “Are you okay?” 

She just shook her head, the movement as much as she dared. 

Rowan exhaled slowly, obviously working over his next words. “Can I--I mean, would it help if--” He sighed, mussing up his already-sloppy hair. “Ae, can I hold you? It--fuck, it scares me to see you like this.” 

“Yeah, you--ohh!” Her faint response cut off into a whimper as yet another streak of lightning flicked across the sky. 

“Oh, Ae,” Rowan murmured, swinging himself into her bed, instinctively opening his arms for her as he slid under the covers. She tucked herself into his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist, and buried her face into his shoulder, clinging to him like he was her safety raft. Impulsively, he wrapped his arms tighter around her, stroking one hand up and down her back in broad, soft lines, feeling the tension in her limbs slowly ease as he calmed her. “Do you need to count?” he whispered, unconsciously slipping his fingers into her hair. 

“Eight,” Aelin mumbled, tensing briefly as the thunder boomed across the sky, briefly drowning out the beat of the rain against the windows. 

“’S getting farther away, then,” he murmured, his hand resuming its path up and down her spine. 

The next thunderclap came at fourteen seconds, then twenty, then thirty. The farther the storm moved from them, the more Aelin relaxed, though her hold on Rowan never faltered. By the time the thunder had grown faint in the distance, replaced by the tattoo of raindrops on the glass and the façade of the building, her breathing had begun to even out and the crease in her forehead had faded away, her calmness returning as the storm dissipated. 

“Hate thunderstorms,” she breathed. “Always have.” 

“It’s pretty far away now,” Rowan reassured her, quietly reveling in the way she hadn’t tried to send him back to his bed. 

“Yeah,” she whispered, exhaustion making her all but sink into the bed, still curled into his warmth as sleep claimed her once more. As he breathing evened and deepened into sleep’s rhythms, Rowan couldn’t stop himself from brushing a featherlight kiss across her temple, one last little gesture of comfort before he, too, let the darkness of sleep take him. 

Aelin awoke to bright sunlight, the faint scent of clear, clean, post-storm air, and the warmth of someone’s arms around her, of someone’s body cocooned around hers. 

Not just someone’s. 

Rowan’s. 

He’d stayed. After the storm passed, he’d stayed with her, held her as she fell asleep, and unless she’d been dreaming at that point--which she probably had been, to be honest--he’d kissed her forehead. His barely-there kiss soft and warm and oh so longed-for against her skin. 

Rowan was in her bed, holding her in his arms, and damn it all to the hells, she wanted him to stay there for the rest of her life. 

As if her thoughts had awoken him, Rowan stirred, blinking into consciousness and realizing, like she had, that she was cradled in his arms, her limbs tangled with his, her head still lying in the crook of his shoulder and neck, her hair loose and splayed across the pillows. 

“Morning,” he breathed, almost like he, to, wasn’t quite sure if he was still dreaming. 

“Morning, Ro,” she breathed back, staring into his pine-green eyes and finding herself absolutely unable to look anywhere else. 

“I--” 

She cut him off before he could do anything stupid like try to move. “Thank you. For staying with me.” 

Rowan visibly relaxed, his arms subconsciously flexing around her. “I’m always here for you, Ae.” More emotion, more confessions packed into those few words than he’d intended. 

Her breath caught, but for an entirely different reason than it had mere hours ago. “Always?” 

“Always.” 

The corners of her mouth quirked. “Then...” She huffed out a short breath. “Rowan, then why haven’t you ever done anything about it?” 

“I thought you just wanted to be friends,” he mumbled, more than aware of the flush spreading across his cheeks. “You...you never made any indication otherwise, Aelin.” 

“You men and your denseness,” she sighed. “Let me make myself perfectly clear, Rowan Whitethorn. I am completely head over heels for you, even though I may have been trying to deny it to myself, and I literally cannot keep it hidden anymore. Thanks to the bloody thunderstorm.” 

Rowan blinked, momentarily lost for words. And then a grin brighter than the morning sun bloomed across his face. “Aelin Galathynius, I am completely and totally yours. If you’ll let me be.” 

Her smile matched his. “Are you asking me out, Whitethorn?” 

“Be my girlfriend, Galathynius.” Definitely not a question. 

“I thought you usually waited until after at least a few dates before you asked that,” she teased. 

“Not when I’ve been this dumb for this long,” Rowan grinned. “Yes or no, Ae?” 

“Yes,” she beamed, twining her arms around his neck. “Took you long enough to ask, Ro.” 

His thumb caressed her jaw. “Our parents are going to have the time of their lives when we get home, aren’t they?” 

Aelin’s laughter filled the hotel room with music. “They really are.” 

Five years, one overly enthusiastic dog, and a shared apartment later, Aelin and Rowan were--finally--making their forever official. They hadn’t had a picture-perfect relationship, mostly because those didn’t exist, but they had learned better than to go to bed angry, had learned to talk through their hopes and dreams and tears and fears rather than curl up alone and try to make it through the raging thunderstorm alone. 

No, Aelin reflected, there really was nothing like a natural disaster to bring two people together. 

Especially if those two people had been quietly, madly in love with each other for years. 

#my writing #aelin galathynius #rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #fluff #plus minor scariness #tw: storms

[hoardlikegoldenirises]

timeline of Peter Parker's Spider-Man suits for my AU

(part... One...! Handmade Suits)

with copious notes for myself lol

(i made a separate post for his web shooters)

You can see the original versions of some of these designs (here) but this post is now of course the most up-to-date version (though I did trace parts of the original so I didn't have to do too much extra re-drawing, which is why parts of it look wonky 😅(cough cough teen peter))

MANY closeups under the cut:

—🕸️—

First up is Peter's early costumes:

Peter's Very First Costume before he was technically Spider-Man. Now, is it stupid to have the name of your high school emblazoned across your back? Probably. But he only wears this for like... a month, month and a half. Extremely classic DIY shit, scrim eyes, no lenses, stolen tracksuit (no he's not evil in this au he's just a little monster) etc. This is what he's first using his Mk.I web shooters with before replacing them because they suck.

NOTE: TECHNICALLY WRONG: things are constantly shifting. not sure about web-shooters but this tracksuit technically isn't his costume for wrestling, it goes OVER his costume for wrestling, which is just a high-rise singlet over tights + the mask. but when he's not on the mat he's wearing the tracksuit to cover himself.

The shades of colors on this tracksuit match the shades on Flash's letter jacket btw. (posted here)

Some running shoes he probably got at Payless—IDK if those exact shoes I was drawing were actually cheap but they look close enough to a pair I could sort of see on Payless' website in the wayback machine for 2003 so it's good enough for me XD

can see a peek of peter's glove there lol. probably should have drawn him wearing them but he probably takes them off when he wrestles anyway.

And this is Peter's FIRST REAL Spider-Man costume which also uses his Mk.II web shooters (the ones that use a combo pulley-and-lever system) which he probably wears for the first time... the night his uncle dies. It's still very hand-made and the logo is screenprinted which means it is going to start cracking pretty quickly... multiple pieces much like 616... I mean this is basically the 616 costume. No face shell or anything so mouth and nose are kind of visible (and ears...) and it's basically standard lycra... not sports fabric or anything just basically thick-ass tights.

Still using scrim in the eyes but now with plastic lenses. Probably not ballistics grade though so... lol.

he repurposes the sneaker soles from his pre-spidey suit into his new boots, probably just sewn right on (or glued maybe) and he just... wears shoes that are too big so he can fit them in (either that or keeps them in his bag and only puts them on when he changes out of his regular clothes, which is feasible for a guy with a 10 second quick-change time) (I guess he could also wear boot covers made out of the original sneakers that make them look like regular shoes 🤔) (arguably the funniest option)

changed my mind he just has separate boots and puts them on since most solutions require him taking his shoes off anyway and he has that super reflex stuff lol

I haven't really posted much/any fics where Peter's at this age, except "I like our second first kiss better" (though he's not really shown in the suit in the snippets of that) though maybe I'll mention a flashback of him in high school. Oh I guess he was wearing this suit briefly in "These are not the clothes [...]" since that shows him getting the symbiote after fighting Ock.

this is of course the symbiote suit which Peter acquires in "These are not the clothes I had on when I went to bed" and keeps until "Last week [...]" So... 17-18 years old... (rather almost-18 to almost-19 years old as he gets it in the summer before college and loses it the summer between freshman and sophomore year of college)

it's more of a leather look than a latex look (esp compared to peter's black and white ff suit 10 years later) vs. Patricia's being more glossy

This stayed largely unchanged compared to the original version of these costumes I did.

and obv since it's a symbiote it's expressive, in contrast to peter's other suits which all have either fixed lenses or in the case of the diy suit is just fabric lol

not much to say here. sporty symbiote shoes.

This is the suit he makes at 18 during the summer between freshman and sophomore year of college, which I only briefly mentioned in "Last week I started over again" and prob should have maybe mentioned a little more in detail XD

Without the symbiote and being several inches taller than he was at 17 (not to mention more uh... full-bodied) obviously he couldn't just wear his high school spidey suit so he had to make a new one, and this is it. Bonuses are that he's more experienced sewing, used a nice breathable (and textured matte finish) poly-spandex sports blend for all of his spandex (instead of dance lycra) so it's breathable, added under-arm mesh (i stumbled upon that by happenstance and thought it suited this look very well) and used a mix of embroidery and heat-transfer vinyl to decorate his suit. Also perforated vinyl inside his polycarbonate lenses.

I think the back spider is just some high quality spandex sewn onto the other spandex blends, but the chest spider is def heat transfer vinyl.

which means it may or may not melt if he goes into a burning building, now that i think about it...

The plan for this navy and crimson suit is for it to be his standard suit for most of his 20s.

The boots are pretty simple here... They ARE boots though they're a little slimmer than most regular boots and the soles are removable through the magic of Rare Earth Magnets and possibly also his own sticking power and also I decided that he can stick through a few inches of material so I can justify his use of shoe soles but also tbh it makes sense even for regular barefoot wallcrawling to prevent him from just... peeling paint off walls and to not be totally fucked if it's a little rainy or dusty.

really i just like the way sporty spider-men with sporty soles look.

Not sure what the boot fabric is, I wrote "not spandex" but it could be like, lined or something. It's Something.

I didn't write this on the drawing but it's in my notes, the soles are dual-density with a polyurethane (PU) outer and an expanded thermoplastic polyurethan (ETPU) inner for durability, lightweight, good support and cushioning, etc. He doesn't have them like, in BULK but he has at least half a dozen replacement pairs of shoe soles for when they wear out.

Also didn't realize this when I was choosing materials but apparently PU is a thermoset which means it won't melt (only soften or burn) once it's set in shape which is super cool. TPU is a thermoplastic though, so it can remelt, but I'm not sure how ETPU would respond to high heat or flame since as an expanded foam it IS full of air bubbles (aka insulation) (then again, even FR treated foam insulation is usually considered a fire hazard...) —Well either way, I'm less worried about his shoes melting than I am about the rest of his suit (also the soles are removable so he can take them off if he needs to)

So basically, overall, This suit is NOT fireproof. Though polyester has a pretty high ignition and melting point (and polycarb is also pretty tough) it's not fire resistant or safe for fires because once you reach high enough temps it melts, so it's more likely to burn you more severely compared to natural fibers like cotton or silk. As you will see further down, Peter learns this the hard way in 2009.

some material swatches just for vibes and a diagram which is mostly for my own benefit, when I was figuring out how to draw those God Forsaken webs. I think I figured out a way that works well for me though.

the fabric is mostly matte and semi-matte cause I find glossy or satin-finished untextured spandex to look kind of... cheap... (which is why i'm not a big fan of the TASM2 movie suit, even though I love the lenses) (i prefer TASM2 lenses and TASM1 suit even though peter's head looks like a basketball in the first movie) (also the crotch is so low,)

Anyway, Peter's mask is padded with a thin layer of foam as a compromise with the fact that most irl cosplayers use rigid face shells to get the silhouette right lmao but I don't want him to have a hard shell under his mask cause... spider-man kisses... LMAO

also just realized giving him underarm mesh for breathability could be considered an homage to the armpit webs... (which, obviously, are not present on these designs... because they are ugly.) that was not on purpose though.

—🕸️—

Numbah Two

it's only... two... well two and a half cause of the way this worked out XD Actually it was only ONE before but I was like, fuck it, idk what his first electro fight will even be and electro hasn't shown up at all but i'll toss in an electro-proof suit, too, why not.

First I wanted to mention his updated default duds though.

He's been using the same pattern as the one he drafted in mid 2006 for the blue and red for a few years at this point, so if it's damaged he just... makes a new one... has soles (and probably lenses tbh) that he bought probably half a dozen identical pairs of, etc. The life of sports fabrics, after all, is only a couple of years before it starts to lose shape (and also it keeps getting shredded) so. Replacements. and you know he shreds those shoes to bits. He's gonna be so good at sewing lol

But in early 2009, well, he does something dumb—which is, he runs into a burning building wearing head-to-toe polyester. It's not fire-resistant, def not certified FR, and in fact, this is partly due to the fact that it's PTFE (Teflon) treated to be non-stick and those two treatments typically don't play nice together. (Teflon itself is pretty heat resistant but from my googling it sounds like Teflon fabric treatment does not render fabric heat resistant, which i guess makes sense, like, it's still gonna melt in there...)

So he runs into a burning building, ends up with something actively-on-fire falling onto him, and while it's not like, heavy or anything, it is direct heat and flame upwards of 900 degrees, well above the melting point of polyester and above the ignition point as well, so... he ends up with a third degree burn on his leg and many smaller first and second degree burns on the rest of his body from sparks melting tiny spots through his suit (as well as the vinyl heat transfer on his chest—the melting point of vinyl is only 200F, so even if he stays ground level (which he has to, because otherwise his polycarb lenses will hit their glass transition temperature (aka start to soften), and he knows this) it will likely be very hot or near melting directly against his chest (well, he has power mesh lining but that's really not enough to protect him from melting plastic)

So.

(ignore the thong that's from the unstable molecule lineup)

When Peter remakes his suit in early 2009 after getting burned, he does it with some more... advanced materials. (expensive ones, RIP, maybe he stole them) (or, you know, maybe johnny hooks him up)

Still using polycarb lenses, cause they are still the most durable and heat-resistant eyewear protection you can get from what I can find online. AFAIK things like polyether ether ketone (PEEK) and polysulfone aren't really used for eyewear, and a lot of really heat resistant plastic is naturally opaque (or amber in the case of polysulfone) (and much more expensive) or has other significant drawbacks so, he can't just make Teflon lenses or whatever lmao.

BUT

he makes a spare mask with aluminized lenses instead of his perforated vinyl sandwich ones so he can have an Extra heat resistant mask in case of emergencies

looks pretty slick if you ask me

As far as fabric goes, he switches to aramid fibers, which are more expensive but like... More durable than polyester spandex sports blends, more fire resistant, etc. and he knows Johnny Storm (like... budding friendship at this point) so Johnny can also probably hook him up with shit like racing gear, nomex hoods and the like.

I am considering Polartec's Power Stretch FR for later on but that was literally introduced in 2009 so Peter's def not using that yet, but afaict it's a rayon/modacrylic/aramid/spandex blend so I think Peter probably can find something that via like, Nomex/spandex blends and stuff, and Nomex itself has been around for a while.

also decided he switches to sewing the front spider on as well as the back spider.

anyway

next suit is Spidey Formalwear

Peter makes this—well he makes the mask and gloves—to wear to Johnny's wedding when they are still both in their early 20s in 2010.

This isn't exactly the same as what happened w/ Lyja in the comics but Johnny's not in a very good place atm

Peter can tell something's wrong but he can't figure out what it is (and neither can anyone else) It won't take long for Johnny to get a divorce though.

Anyway Peter's approach to formalwear as a weird 22 year old def falls under "if it's shiny, that makes it fancy" LMAO — i just thought it would be nice to take it a step further than tossing a tux on top of his regular suit, like, sure the stretch satin he got wasn't exactly expensive but he made the effort for his friend's wedding. He cares.

Look at him, wearing patent leather shoes.

anyway onward

So in 2013 Peter makes an electro-proof suit 👀

I put what some might consider an "unreasonable" amount of thought into this suit and indeed it's been driving me nuts for like three days trying to figure it out... but I finally figured it out.

it's a wetsuit. (actually, it's not, it's handmade, BUT it is a wetsuit pattern and materials, mainly double-layered neoprene rubber laminated with heat resistant fabrics)

That wasn't what was driving me nuts.

What was driving me nuts was the fact that I was trying to figure out how to get a conductive layer on top of it that didn't look like shit and wouldn't destroy my hand to draw.

Why? Well, it turns out that linemen working on power lines often wear conductive (so, ugly silvery gray) clothing to act as a kind of Faraday cage to protect them from arc flashes and other stray electrical outputs, in addition to usually insulated gloves and boots.

And I thought... I want to do that.

And then I spent a lot of time trying to make it work in a way that wasn't ugly and I was like, oh wow, they make conductive metal screen printing ink? and then i was like, oh never mind this shit is $200 for 100mL MINIMUM and while peter has a real job, spending hundreds, possibly thousands of dollars on nanoparticle ink is completely out of the question, friendship with the f4 aside (that would have been the easy way out XD) (i mean, they still might be helping him out w/ the neoprene hookup etc)

(at least the safety glasses are relatively inexpensive.... >things peter says to himself at 1 am while blind-stitching panels of neoprene together)

so i was like, ugh, maybe stainless steel thread? but it was just ugly.

BUT THEN

I REALIZED

Peter can just make his own conductive colloidal silver (and copper, and carbon black) screen printing ink at home and it will be the correct kind to print on synthetics (plastisol, instead of aqueous) and cost him like. $50. a FRACTION of the price. granted, i didn't factor in the cost of stretch additives etc but it's still significantly cheaper and Peter with a BS in engineering absolutely has the knowledge and equipment to do that in like. his kitchen. so that solved my problem and I solved the ugly dilemma by just having him use three different kinds of conductor for the different colors.

Now, is this a realistic and practical way to make a Faraday suit? I SINCERELY doubt it.

But it's fine. comic books. now he's got a fully insulated base layer with a semi-conductive top layer to guide electricity across the surface (rather than scorching it) (but it IS fire resistant neoprene) and more importantly it looks cool.

(i'm sure that was expensive too but a bunch of neoprene is probably still cheaper in the long run than buying a quarter gallon's worth of conductive ink (several thousand dollars in total) so it feels more justifiable to me that he could save up some side money to custom order nomex laminated rubber)

so basically, tldr it's an insulated faraday suit that also happens to be (mostly) identical to your average double-lined wetsuit.

Here's his shoes. They're grounded (which i think is mostly for anti-static purposes irl but i figured it would fit here well, like, oh the screen printed conductive dots guide the electricity over the aramid surface and to the grounding strip) and the soles are vulcanized rubber like his lens frames.

aaaand johnny gave him some expensive sweat wicking fire resistant racecar driving underwear to wear under there since it's sweaty and i kept seeing websites about linemen's protective gear mentioning FR base layers

it just so also happens to feature several EXTREMELY prominent Adidas logos (this is real btw you can google "Adidas Climacool Nomex racing underwear" and they existed in 2013 which i know because being unreasonable as i am i used the wayback machine to look at a racing supply website to double check because I REALLY wanted him to use the adidas one specifically because of the Climacool part on account of the fact that he is encased in several millimeters of completely non-porous rubber and he IS going to sweat like a pig in there especially in the middle of summer)

(also because i think it's funny to cover him in adidas logos)

lol

oh he also makes a set of Mk. III-E (for electro) web shooters that are double-insulated with a new formula of non-conductive, anti-static webbing (his normal webbing is extremely the opposite of both of those things) (and very flammable) so that Electro can't shock him through his web shooters.

aaaand

that's it for post one

post two (Peter's unstable molecule suits gifted by the Fantastic Four) is >HERE<

post three (Peter's suits after his aunt dies) is >HERE<

#spiderman #peter parker #spider-man #fanadiart #nadiart #arghdesign #shiny art #peterflash timeline au #came in through the window last night

[roman-cup]

You have pretty eyes

Garrance oneshot based on my PDH rewrite I didnt write yet

Posted on ao3 and quotev before, now its here

past garmau and garroth x ivy  mentioned

"You have beautiful eyes." Laurance looked over at Garroth, who clearly does not understand personal space, as he leaned VERY close to Laurance face. He blinked "..Thanks..?" He did not blush because that would be lame and he's a shadow knight hes not lame! Garroth nodded. He moved away and looked back at his work. Laurance stared to see if he would say anything else. He did not. Ok then? Laurance had hetrochromia. One eye blue one green. but, still? Unprompted?? "Uh...??? Elaborate?" "On what?" "Dude??" "Oh. You're eyes are pretty" he shrugged. "Like, the sun is hitting them right now and its pretty" Laurance, for some embarrassing reason. Responded to that by throwing his hand in front of his eyes. Which is stupid, because who cares if he looks at his eyes? Weird compliment aside. Lucky Garroth had just looked away again. -- It was there Junior year of high school and Garroth and Laurance have been dating for 1 year. "You're eyes are pretty" Garroth grinned as he put his head on Laurance shoulder, showing off his braces clearly. Laurance was finally able to get his braces off a few months ago. Maybe he felt bad eating popcorn in front of him, but all in all? Not his fault his boyfriend has to wear braces. Plus Laurance still has to suffer. The dentist said he has to wear a retainer?? Forever?? Garroth, competently unaware of Laurance internal monologue continues to speak "They're all shiny and stuff.." Laurance smiled and held his hand, but held a laugh. "Deja vu" "Whatt..?" Garroth looked up at him "You already told me my eyes were prettyyy" Laurance sung light heartily. Laurance is still not sure if Garroth was trying to flirt with him freshman year, or if he was just, like that. "No I didn't...oh no" Garroth sat up "You remembered that?" "I was supposed to forget?" He laughed. "Yes!" Garroth grabbed his shoulders "oh my irene.." he groaned "That has haunted me..," "Oh and I'm dramatic?" He elbowed him lightly "Come on, its not like I was gonna be upset that my -favorite person- and love of my life likes my eyes' Laurance tried to comfort "You didn't like me freshman year" he corrected, he crossed his arms, and cracked a smile. Still embarrassed. "You don't know that." Neither did Laurance, to be honest. When DID he start to like him? He knows he likes him now, obviously, but he didn't even notice until after GarroTh and Aph had broken up. "Well did you?" Garroth looked at him "If you did I'd feel bad, because I didn't" Laurance thought. Well, Laurance did flirt with him that year, and last year, he was joking thought...right? "Oh yeah I'm heartbroken, and it was so platonic and straight of you to tell me how nice my eyes were by the way" Garroth flushed embarrassed again. "My boyfriend thinks my eyes are pretty~" Laurance sung. To add to his shame. "Oh hush, come it was weird, that I said that!" Laurance shrugged. He definitely thought it was weird when he said it. He still hung out with him after though, so, he got over it. "So like,, why did you say it? I mean I know you said you didn't like me but like,, was that flirtingggg? Orr?" Garroth shrugged. "Who knows. I haven't seen two eye colors much, I figured it was cool" Laurance nodded. He held Garroth hand "Hmm." He hummed again and grinned "My boyfriend thinks my eyes are pretty~" Garroth groaned light-heartily "Oh hush you love me." Laurance laughed "Yeah I do" he laughed a bit.  "What?" "What? I didn't say anything, nope." "Nope don't do that." Laurance stared at him, flustered.

They hadn't really used the 'i love you' phase. Yes, nicknames like "love" "lovely" "love of my life" where definitely there, but the actual words? Nope. "You love me?" Laurance looked up him. He asked casually, or he tried very hard to, and that what matter right? A for effort? Garroth shrugged. "I dont..know?" He said honesty. "I feel like I do! But I thought I loved Aphmau too." "Oh yeah.." Laurence bit his lip. "But like" Garroth continued "We know that didn't like-" he put his own hands in the air to visually demonstrate and short line "go on for long." "Yeahhh-"

"And there was my relationship with Ivy freshman year,,poor girls still mad at me for it."

"I wouldn't call her a 'poor girl'"

Garroth rolled his eyes. "whatever, my point is- I'm scared."  Laurance looked up "offf-" he looked around like what he was saying was forbidden, and it kinda felt like it was "Saying I love you?" Garroth nodded. Relaxing and putting his head back on Laurance shoulder, Laurance put an arm around him. "I don't want to go on and saying things like that and have it end up being wrong again. I mean me and Aph are still friends thankfully, But-" Laurance just stared at him. He felt he should comment on this this speech, but he didn't want to interrupt. Plus, now he was wondering, did he love Garroth? "But- I don't really want to lose you- an-and! I,, currently would like to date you as long as you let me- but if-" Garroth held his hands up again to vaguely gesture as he spoke " if I say -that- I think it would be worse when you.. no longer want to." Garroth ended awkwardly. Then blushed "I am sorry for the speech, I ruined the moment, didn't I?" He chuckled. Laurance stared at him. Before he shook his head to get rid of his thoughts. He then shook it again. "No way!" He yelled. Then put a hand over his mouth and sighed. "You didn't ruin anything dude, don't worry about that. Plus,, I dunno that was kinda sweet.." "Its sweet that I won't say I love you..?" Garroth looked at Laurance weirdly. "I must have explained it was wrong then" Laurance giggled "No no, but like, I dunno.." he started using a hand to nervously play with his hair. It made it down past his shoulders by now. Geez. "I like knowing you wanna stay with me." "Well..yeah of course I do.." Laurence looked at him smiled and continued "By the wayyy, if that's the case, Then this relationship won't end because I am going to propose the moment I can..". Laurence, despite only being 16, nodded proudly. Fully trusting this statement. This didn't seem to shake Garroth, who is also 16, for long. He stared at him a moment before laughing "Oh please, I'll beat you too it." "Oh yeah?" "Yes!" "We will see..." "Well-!"Garroth looked ready to say something, then stopped himself. Laurence bit his lip nervously, did he cross a line somehow. Was marriage to much? "Well..what?" "Nothing,,nothing" Laurance frowned. "YOU..ok? Sorry I- oh my irene" he groaned " you just talked about not wanting to bring up 'I love yours and I bring up marriage, fuck-.sorry" he facepalmed. "What no no it was sweet!" Garroth looked at him "I'm not upset, I just paused because-" "Causeee?'" "I figured.. I could beat you too it if I do it -now- "You're ...proposing now..?" Laurance stated blanking. Yeah, he said it, but, seriously, they were 16. "Well no not that but.. I figured. We could get promise rings?" "Ohhhh- so like, a promise to stay together." "Yeah! When we are older,, well we will see..but- oh fuck that would be going to far again-" Garroth put his hands over his face. "See? Even I can't stop myself from going to far!" "I mean- we don't have to..butt.. I won't mind." Garroth looked up over his hands "Really?" Laurance nodded "yeah, really" he stared to grin. Laurance had no idea WHEN he started to like Garroth really, and maybe love was still a strong word, but Laurance knew he wanted Garroth to be in his life. Which, whenever Laurance thought of a future he though marriage. So? Why not? Garroth sat up and smiled "OK! I'll buy us rings! Oh wanna help or a surprise." "Surprise me!" "Ok!" Garroth seems to have calmed down. That was good. "Oh and by the way." Laurence started. "What?" "Back to the whole, love thing.. how about this.. we can say,, I love you,, if you want, but not in super serious way, yet yeah?" "Hmm yeah. Ok then. Should I say it now." "I'll say it back if you do." "Ok."Garroth took a breath "Laurance I love you,," he closed his eyes for a second, like he expected everything to crash right now, when it didn't he added" anndd your eyes are still shiny." he grinned.  "Pf-" laurance laughed "Well I love you too...anndd I love your eyes too." "Oh yeah?" "Yeah!" Garroth laughed, he kissed Laurance cheek "I think we are dorks" "Oh you are. I'm cool though" laurance nudged him "its ok though, your adorable" "Hmp,, okk Mr. Long bright orange hair." "You LIKED my hair" "Not relevant" "Also-" Laurance gestured to his hair, his brown roots growing out but the bottom half was definitely orange, just slightly faded. Still bright though "its STILL orange, dickhead" "So..I win?" "No, your a dork" "Damn it" Laurance grabbed his hand once again "Hey." "Hn?" "I love you" Garroth sighed "I love you too." 

#aphmau #garroth ro'meave #laurance zvhal #garrance #ti's pdh rewrite

[fauxkaren]

Guardian: The Lonely and Great God (aka Goblin) - 8/10

This was one of THEE most popular and most watched dramas of all time, so of course I had to watch it eventually! And honestly, I get it. I get why it had the public in its grip. It’s got a great OST. The actors are all charming af. There is a great balance of humor and drama. I think it’s a really solid drama. However, I’m not sure they managed to stick the landing. The last 3 episodes were kinda ???? for me.

Right. So. This is a modern fantasy drama. The central plot revolves around a goblin- a god of luck and wishes. He was turned into a goblin after his death circa 900 years previously when he. a successful general, was killed on the orders of the king. God resurrected him and he is cursed with immortality until the goblin bride is born because she is the only one who can remove the sword the pierces his heart and return him to nothingness. So that is the main conflict of the show, but there are other secondary conflicts related to past lives and how the goblin was originally killed. Plus, the goblin ends up being roommates with a grim reaper and it is PEAK comedy.

Even though I suspect the main draw for most people is the high drama romance and tragedy of it all, for me, the highlight was the Odd Couple roommate hijinks/reluctant friendship between the Goblin and the Grim Reaper. I know it’s cheap laughs, but all of their cellphone use wackiness legit cracked me up. I found the relationship between the Goblin and the Grim Reaper to be the most complicated and compelling relationship in the show.

Idk how unpopular this take is, but I was waaaaay more invested in the secondary romance than the main one. The main one is... hm. It’s cute enough and like, at least EunTak is a senior in high school when a centuries old immortal being starts creeping on her vs Buffy where she was a freshman when Angel started. lmao. But it’s still... idk. There’s obviously such a maturity gap there that it’s... it makes me feel a bit weird. So as a result, I was WAY more into the secondary romance. Possibly because Lee DongWook is SUCH an emotive actor, goddamn. Those silent tears? STABBED ME IN MY HEART.

So yeah, overall, enjoyed the show a lot. The actors really elevated the writing, imo. And it was just a good vibe of a show. I think it had some flaws though that stopped me from being 100% in love with the show, but I still really liked it and would recommend!

#guardian: the lonely and great god #goblin #karen watches kdramas

[strwbrryeyes]

𖦹°｡⋆ broken mugs and new beginnings

⟡ featuring: osamu

⟡ cw: reader is stressed, dramatic, like really dramatic, idk man i just miss my mug

⟡ a/n: the smallest of drabbles because i broke my mug today and it was my breaking point </3 so yes this is self indulging leave me alone. i also just felt like posting today even if it isn't either of the series im supposed to be working on (i swear im working on them)

"babe, can you please go wash your mug?" your boyfriend, osamu asks you referring to the pink mug that was sitting on the counter next to your sink. it had been there for a few days after you drank hot chocolate. the reason you hadn't washed it properly yet was because you let it sit overnight after you finished drinking it and the leftover residue had harden leaving you to let soapy water soak in it. the problem was...it's now been 'soaking' for three days. it's not like you've been lazy, you've just been busy and had a stressful week so lately you've just been moping around. osamu knew this but he thought that you getting up and doing something somewhat productive may pull you out of this funk. he would soo find out that he was so wrong.

"ahhh...fine..." you groan as you get up from the couch. it was only one mug and you knew osamu was only trying to help you, you knew he was worried about you so you just agreed and walked over to the sink where he was standing holding the mug filled with water. you take the mug from him and he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"thank you, my love" he then gives you a small peck "you got this, i believe in you!" osamu exclaims giving you a pat on the shoulder before walking back to the living room.

after a few seconds of standing doing nothing, you sigh and finally pour out the three day old soaking water and beginning to properly wash it.

'this is actually easy' you think to yourself slightly smiling as you admire the now clean cup. it's a small achievement but after the week you've just had, you felt like things were finally starting to pick up!

being proud of this little feat, you set it down quickly before you rush over to osamu to come drag him back into the kitchen.

"baby! come look! it's all clean!" you excitedly say as you pull him by the sleeve of his hoodie.

"really? that's so good! i'm so proud of you." osamu praises you as he looks at the freshly clean pink mug that you had picked up to show him in a fancy manner.

"thank you! you know," you start out as you turn around to open the cabinet where you would put the mug "this is what i needed. me cleaning this cup is just the start of thing starting to lo-" you're cut off by a cracking and crashing noise.

you slowly turn around to face osamu, whose face is in shock, eyes wide opened and everything, then look back to your hand- your now, empty, hand, and finally your eyes land on the ground only to see the pink fragments of ceramic shattered all over the ground. the mug had slipped out of your hand.

"baby-" osamu walks closer to you to try and calm you down but before he could reach you, you fell to your knees and buried your face in your hands.

"my whole day is ruined, samu." you sob out, all the stress form the past week finally floods out of your system, the breaking of your favorite mug being the thing to finally break you.

"no no no," osamu squats down in front of you, using his finger to lift your chin up "your day is not going to be ruined because of some stupid mug." he tries his best to reassure you but the words 'stupid mug' only trigger more sobs from you.

"i've had that mug since freshman year of college though!" you cry out clinging onto his chest.

osamu lets out a sigh. he knows how much you loved this mug and how long you've had it but he was still determined to make you feel better somehow. "okay, look, listen to me, yn" he says and a soft but stern tone causing you to whip your head up at him again. "i know you loved that mug, but look at it this way." he stands up and goes to get a broom from across the kitchen.

"not everything was meant to last forever, right?" he asks when he comes back to where you were sitting, next to the broken mug. you nod in response as you scooch over to give him room to sweep.

"exactly. so that means, this mug, was not meant to last forever. just like this awful week is not going to last forever." osamu says as he goes over to the trash bin. "so what we're going to do here is throw away the broken pieces of this mug, and buy you a new one." he dumps out the broken pieces.

he walks back over to you and your tear stained face and sits next to you "and then, we're going to take the rest of today, and forget about this last week, and look forward to the new week ahead of us." osamu says as he turns your face to look at him so he can brush your hair away from your face "sound like a plan?" he asks looking at you with love and care.

"sounds like a plan..." you respond quietly, crawling into his lap. you didn't care that you were on the kitchen floor. it didn't matter that it was cold or dirty from the cooking osamu had just done moments prior to the mug incident. all that mattered was that you had a loving boyfriend who could talk you down in any situation, who is always patient with you, and always looks for the good in every bad situation and you wouldn't have it any other way.

so instead of dwelling on the loss of your mug and all the hardships you've been through this week, you follow through with the plan of getting a new mug, and go into the next week optimistic and excited because you knew that this week was going to be so much better than the last and that osamu will do anything to make sure that happens.

#𖦹°｡⋆ 𝓃𝒾𝓃𝒾 #osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #osamu miya fluff #osamu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu #osamu miya #miya osamu #hq x reader

[maelstromdeparture]

i’ve seen a lot of videos of women in stem talking about the sexism they deal with on a daily basis recently and i find it highly entertaining honestly. because i go to a very very small state school in a very redneck state. and yeah i deal with sexism in my stem classes all the time. but my upper level physics classes are the bomb y’all. these boys have got this shit figured out since i showed up freshman year. 

like my two defining moments in my education for my physics minor are 

the semester that my very smart friend who’s double majoring in math would walk away from our lectures and ask me to explain what had happened as we walked back to the dorms. because he couldn’t follow the prof but understood the math and i could do both. 

and the time my electronics professor gave a tour of the physics department to a group of incoming freshmen and excitedly showed them the speaker i built on my own the day i was the only person that showed up at lab and apparently had all the seventeen year old girls in this group very excited because he told them i was the only girl in the physics department and also getting my degree in english 

my school has lots of issues and our computer science department is shit. but the physics department has it figured out y’all. the profs are awesome. the guys i have class with are great. and physics club is an absolute disaster but so entertaining. 

#our physics department is a fourth female #because there's four of us #i love my physics boys they're great #it cracks me up though because i showed up freshman year and they were just like #ope it's a girl no sexism here not at all we think you're cool thanks for joining us #the math department is sorta iffy on the sexism but they're generally good people just massive dorks #the computer department isn't great could use some help #they should talk to the physics department #i definitely spent two years telling a very nice computer tutor that i would let him know if i needed help #had him ask me if i needed help from a tutor for the class i was TAing as a freshman #but he helped me get my car out of an intersection when it broke down #and he once brought me an apple because he couldn't share his regular snacks with me like he could with his friend #so all is forgiven #he learned it just took him two years #also most of my english classes are in the science building because of construction #which means i'm the weird english major that stops to talk to the physics profs in the halls

[waitimcomingtoo]

This is Me Trying

Part one and two

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader enemies to lovers!

Synopsis: it’s time for secrets to come out

Masterlist

“How’s the project coming along?” You asked as you laid your head in Peter’s lap. You were in his room, like you always were, a month after you officially started dating.

“Just about done.” He answered you. “I made the periods bigger so we’d hit the maximum page length.”

“Ooo.” You snickered. “What a bad boy.”

“I’m really not.” He chuckled and began to play with your hair. “This is the most incriminating thing I’ve done all year.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you were.” You shrugged. “I like bad boys.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah. Remember that guy that like died in the war but then came back to life as an assassin? From a few years ago?” You asked as you looked up at him.

“The Winter Soldier?” Peter wondered.

“Yeah. Him.” You nodded. “I wanted to fuck him.”

The bluntness in your tone knocked the wind out of Peter’s chest. Nothing could have prepared him for what you had just said. You were too busy laughing to notice how shaken he was.

“W-what?” He stuttered as you sat up.

“I don’t know.” You laughed. “Like, I knew he was a murderer but I was into it. I wanted to spread him on a cracker.”

Peter pouted and folded his arms, his jealously getting the better of him.

“He’s not as strong as he looks, you know.” Peter got defensive. “And his hair is super greasy. It’s like a freaking slip and slide up there.”

“Hm. That’s a problem for me. I’m more into curls.” You smiled as you ran your fingers through his hair. “And how would you know how strong he is?”

Peter gulped, realizing he had said a little too much. Spider-Man knew how strong Bucky was, but you didn’t know about that.

“I don’t.” He lied. “I’m just assuming.”

“You don’t think he’s strong with that metal arm?” You asked as you pulled up a picture of him on your phone. “His biceps are like the size of my head.”

“They’re only bigger than mine because he’s older. A lot older.” Peter insisted. “Like, he’s geriatric.”

“Oh my God. Look at him!” You ignored Peter’s comment and showed him a picture of Bucky. “I want to suck on his thighs.”

“Ew.” Peter whined. “He’s like 400 years old.”

“So what you’re telling me is he’s experienced.” You raised your eyebrows suggestively. Peter let out an angry huff, jealousy bubbling in his stomach.

“Gross.” He groaned. “Why are you saying this in front of me? I’m your boyfriend. Not him.”

“I’m just kidding, Pete.” You chuckled and cupped his chin. “Plus, he’s basically a fictional character to us. It’s not like he’s some guy we know.”

Peter looked to the side, hating when he had to lie to you. Bucky was someone he knew personally, but you didn’t know that.

“Hm.” Peter mumbled quietly. You noticed Peter’s expression and climbed into lab, straddling his hips.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” You cupped his face and rubbed your nose against his. “I didn’t mean to make you all pouty. I’m only kidding about the Summer Soldier.”

“Winter Soldier.” Peter halfheartedly corrected you.

“Winter Soldier. See?” You shrugged. “I don’t even know his name.”

“You still said you would fuck him, though.” Peter pouted as he looked down at his lap.

“I said I wanted to. Past tense.” You corrected. “I had crush on him when I was like 14. I don’t even think of him or his thunder thighs anymore.”

“I have a hard time believing that.” Peter grumbled. You could tell he was still jealous so you pulled him in for a long kiss.

“It’s true. I only have eyes for you, Pete.” You whispered once you pulled away. He cracked a smile before rolling his eyes at you.

“Right.” He said sarcastically. “Just me and the murderer you want in your pants.”

“Come on.” You whined when he didn’t let up. “Can you even blame me? He works with the Avengers. You have to admit, that’s hot.”

Peter stopped pouting when he heard this. He may not be able to be the kind of bad boy you liked, but he was an Avenger.

“You really think that’s hot?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Duh.” You stated. “Don’t you like the Avengers?”

“Most of them.” He nodded. “But not Bucky.”

“Who’s Bucky?” You asked.

“Sorry.” He shook his head. “The Winter Soldier.”

“Why did you call him Bucky?” You laughed in confusion. You had no idea who James “Bucky” Barnes was. Unlike Peter, who sat across from him at dinner a week before.

“That’s his nickname.” Peter explained without thinking it through.

“I didn’t realize you and the Winter Soldier were on a nickname basis.” You teased. “What does he call you?”

“He doesn’t really talk to me.” Peter shrugged. “He’s really quiet, except when he’s with Cap.”

You sat back suddenly, looking at Peter like he was crazy. He was forgetting who his audience was and how you knew nothing of his double life.

“What?” Peter asked when he saw your face.

“Bucky? Cap?” You repeated his words. “Who are these people? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Bucky goes by, well, Bucky. And most of us call Steve, Cap.” Peter explained. “Well, except for Mr. Stark. He calls him Blondie most of the time.”

“So you’re hanging out with the avengers now?” You raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Well, yeah, when when I’m…” Peter trailed off when he realized his mistake.

“When you’re what?” You asked. Peter knew he backed himself into a corner here. He didn’t want to lie to you anymore, so he figured it was time to tell you the truth. Not that he has much of a choice.

“I have something to tell you.” He stated. “It’s kinda important.”

“Okay.” You nodded and held his hand. “What’s up?”

“Don’t freak out, okay?” He prefaced. “It’s not as crazy as it sounds.”

“Oh.” You gasped. “Are you gay?”

“What? No.” Peter answered immediately. “Why was that your first guess?”

“Well my first guess was steroids but I know how you feel about that.” You mumbled out of the corner of your mouth.

“It’s neither of those things. I’ve Uh…I’ve been bitten.” Peter began, not sure how else to phrase it. You smiled a little, thinking he was flirting.

“So have I.” You mumbled as you brought his hand to your lips to kiss the back of it.

“No. Not like that.” He waved his hand and your face fell. “I mean, yes like that. But that’s not what I’m talking about right now.”

“Then what is it, Peter?”

“They do a lot of experimental science at Oscorp. Genetic mutations, stuff like that.” He explained, beating around the bush.

“Why are we talking about Oscorp?” You wondered.

“I broke into one of the labs freshman year.” He explained. “I was trying to figure out some equation my father was working on.”

“Okay.” You said skeptically.

“I ended up in this weird room with all these modified spiders and one bit me. Right here.” He showed you his knuckles, which had a tiny scar on the center. You took his hand and examined the scar closer.

“What is this leading to?”

“After I was bitten, I could do all these things I couldn’t do before.” He told you. “I could climb walls, lift buses, and you know, my biceps grew.”

“You’re telling me a spider bite gave you muscles?”

“I’m telling you that I’m Spider-Man.” He said finally, making the room go silent. It was his first time telling a person on purpose, so it meant a lot to him. Your expression changed from skeptical to serious as you dropped his hand. You reached forward slowly and touched his face, staring at him like you were seeing him for the first time.

“Oh my God.” You whispered. “Peter, you’re…”

He put his hand over yours when you trailed off, anticipating the end of your sentence. Suddenly, you pushed his face away with a smirk.

“Full of shit.” You finished. “You are so full of shit. You almost had me.”

“I’m not.” Peter insisted. “I am Spiderman. I swear.”

“Peter. Be serious.” You whined as you got off his bed. “I thought you had something real to tell me.”

“I am being serious.” He told you. “This is the truth.”

“This is the truth.” You mimicked his voiced, like you used to. “Why would I believe that? Because you called the Fall Fighter by his nickname? Please.”

Peter was starting to grow frustrated. He always feared someone would find out his secret and he’s have to beg them not to tell. He never imagined he’d be sitting in front of his girlfriend, trying to convince her he was Spiderman.

“I know Bucky’s nickname because I know him.” Peter explained as he got off his bed. “It’s the same reason I know how strong he isn’t. He tried to punch me once and I caught his fist before he could. And that thing is made of vibranium. My hand hurt for a week.”

“I don’t get it.” You shrugged. “I don’t get the joke.”

“It’s not a joke. I really am Spiderman.” He insisted. “Mr. Stark recruited me back in 2016 to help him fight Captain America at an airport in Germany.”

“Yeah.” You nodded. “And I killed Princess Diana. I killed her and framed John-“

Peter grabbed your face and kissed you to shut you up, not wanting to hear your jokes when he was trying to tell you the biggest secret of his life.

“Can you shut up for a second?” He asked sweetly when he pulled away. “I’m trying to talk to you about something important. And we both know who really killed her.”

“No you’re not.” You snorted. “You’re trying to mess with me.”

“I’m telling you the truth.” He whined. “Why won’t you believe me?”

“Because you’re saying ridiculous things.” You chuckled as you walked over to your phone, which had been resting on his desk.

“May’s asking what we want for dinner.” You read her text off your screen. “Do you want Chinese again or-“

Before you could finish your sentence, Peter shot a web at your waist and pulled you towards him. You stumbled into his arms before looking down in confusion. You saw the web attached to your hip and tugged at it, but it didn’t come off. You looked at Peter with wide eyes for some answers.

“What the fuck?” You whispered harshly as you yanked on the web.

“Do you believe me now?” He asked as he held up his wrist. You saw the web shooter he had slipped on and touched it carefully. Between the web on your hip and his crazy story, you had no choice but to believe him.

“Well now I’m just embarrassed.” You mumbled sheepishly. “I was pretty sure I was right.”

“I told you you’d have to get used to be being right.” Peter smirked as he helped pull the web off of you. You put your hands on your hips and sighed loudly as you processes the information.

“Okay, wait.” You began. “How have you been Spider-Man this whole time? I’ve seen you fall up the stairs.”

“It’s different when I have the suit on.” He told you. “It gives me confidence.”

“Can I see it?” You asked, a childlike smile on your lips.

“The suit? Sure.” Peter went to his closet and pulled it out of his hiding spot. He brought it over to you, noticing your awestruck expression and smiling.

“Wow.” You whispered as you stared at the folded suit. “Can I touch it?”

“Go ahead.” He smiled, loving how impressed you were. He watched you fondly as you carefully ran your fingertips along the suit, tracing all the lines and details.

“It feels like a football.” You commented, making him laugh.

“Yeah.” He agreed. “I’m not sure what material it is. Mr. Stark made it for me.”

“Tony Stark made this for you?” You gasped.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “A few years ago.”

“Is that when he recruited you?” You wondered. “For Germany?”

“Is it. You listened.” He smiled happily when you remembered little details he had told you.

“Well I can’t tune you out anymore if you’re my boyfriend.” You winked at him before returning your attention to the suit. He blushed a little, appreciating how far you’ve come in your relationship.

“Can you put it on for me?” You asked suddenly as you looked up at him. Peter didn’t expect this reaction, especially not this request.

“Really? You want me to put it on?” He smiled shyly.

“Please?” Your eyes lit up. “I want to see you in it.”

“Okay.” He nodded as he tried to hide his excitement. “I’ll go put it on.”

Peter went into his bathroom and slipped into the suit. He didn’t know why he was as excited as he was to show you. Maybe because you hadn’t caught him in the suit like May and Ned had. He told you his secret willingly, and you asked to know more.

“Are you ready?” You called from the other side of the door. “I feel like I’m waiting to see you walk down the aisle.”

“I’m ready.” He called back as he pressed the center of the suit so it tightened against his skin. He gave himself one last look in the mirror before going back to his bedroom.

“Here it is.” He said sheepishly as he walked towards you. “What do you think?”

Your jaw dropped a little when you saw him. He seemed taller, but you realized it was just because he wasn’t slouching. In his suit, he looked more confident then you had ever seen him. He looked like a hero, and it brought a smile to your face.

“Holy shit.” You whispered as you walked closer to him. You reached forward to touch him, but quickly moved withdrew your hand.

“Are you scared?” He worried when he saw you pull away.

“No. Not of you.” You assured him. “But sometimes I find random glitter on my hands and I’m scared of getting anything on the suit.”

Peter chuckled at your reasoning and picked up your hand.

“It’s okay. You can touch me.” He whispered as he put his hand on his chest. Your eyebrows went up when you felt his warmth through the suit.

“Wow.” You smiled softly. “I didn’t think I’d be able to feel your heartbeat through it”.

“Well you make it beat pretty fast.” He told you as he put his hand over yours.

“Wait.” You pulled away a little. “If you’re Spider-Man, does that mean…”

“Yes?” Peter asked when you trailed off.

“You can set me up with Bucky.” You finished your sentence. “Do you have his number? Tell him I want to wash his hair.”

Peter let out a loud groan, not finding your joke funny. You laughed and tried to pull him back to you, but he kept pulling away.

“I’m kidding. I’m kidding. Come back.” You laughed and tugged on his arm. “Come here. I love you.”

Peter stopped pulling away and froze. When you saw the bewildered look on his face, your smile fell.

“What?” He asked, his voice coming out in a whisper. That shit eating grin you used to hate broke through, lighting up his features. You tried not to let your shock show as you realized what you had said.

“Hm?” You pretended not to understand. “What?”

“What did you just say?” Peter again, now unsure he has heard you correctly.

“I didn’t say anything.” You shrugged, trying to act like you didn’t just tell your boyfriend that you loved him. It’s not that you didn’t mean it, but you didn’t mean to tell him that soon.

“Did you just tell me you loved me?” Peter asked hopefully as he pulled your closer to him.

“Hm. No. Wasn’t me.” You shook your head. “Must have been the wind.”

“My windows are closed.”

“Air conditioning.” You corrected.

“It’s off.”

“Then I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t tell you I loved you. That would be ridiculous. How could I have fallen in love with the most annoying person on the planet?” You asked, questioning yourself more then him. You didn’t know how you had fallen for Peter in such a short amount of time. Just a few months ago, you couldn’t stand him. Now, you were standing in front of him, hoping he loved you back.

“I ask myself that every time I look at you.” He said, making your breath hitch in your throat.

“Are you saying you love me too?” You asked slowly.

“I thought you didn’t tell me you loved me?” He smirked, always taking a chance to tease you.

“I didn’t.” You lied, but you knew you were caught.

“Damn. That’s a shame.” Peter smiled softly. “Because I love you.”

“Yeah.” You smiled back once he confessed his feelings. “I bet you do, loser.”

Peter laughed at your never ending need to insult him before pulling you into a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him close. You could feel his gloved hands on the bare skin of your waist and shivered. When you pulled away, you kept your foreheads pressed together.

“I never thought it would be you.” You mumbled as you twirled one of his curls around your finger. “I never thought I’d fall in love with you.”

“It surprised me too.” He chuckled. “I’m glad this happened though. You weren’t just who I wanted to be. You were who I wanted to be with.”

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” You whispered. “I don’t ever want to get a call at three am telling me I need to come to the hospital. And I don’t want to start bringing three roses to the cemetery instead of two.”

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere.” He assured you as he held your face between his hands. He wiped your tears away with his gloves hands and kissed your nose. “I would never go anywhere where you couldn’t follow”.

“Ew.” You sniffled as you wiped your eyes.

“Why ew?” He chuckled.

“We’re gross.” You said. “We fell in love and now we’re gross.”

“It’s okay.” He smiled. “I like being gross with you.”

“I’m gonna throw up.” You gagged, making you both laugh.

“You’ll be okay.” He told you, and you believed him.

“Okay, now that we got that conversation out of the way, I have a lot of questions about all of this.” You said as you gestured to his suit.

“Ask me anything.” He said. “I’ll answer.”

“What did you wear before this?” You wondered. “I saw Spider-Man sightings on the news before 2016.”

Peter went to his closet and pulled out his original Spider-Man suit, the makeshift hoodie he used to wear.

“This. I made it myself.” He said as he handed it to you.

“No kidding.” You teased as you took it from him. “Did you sew this with your feet?”

“It was the best I could do.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m so lucky he made me a real suit. This one was not very protective.”

“Actually, I kind of like it.” You smiled as you held it up. It had bullet holes and tears everywhere. “It shows where you’ve been. And how far you’ve come.”

“I like your way of looking at it.” He smiled. “It’s yours, if you like it so much. I don’t need it anymore.”

“Why don’t you tell people that its you? This would make you famous. Like, Tony Stark famous.” You said as you put the hoodie on. “Don’t you want that? You know, since you’re such a loser at school.”

“Very funny”. He narrowed his eyes at you. “And no, actually. I’m safer this way. Plus, the bad guys can’t tell if I’m scared with the mask on. And it’s fun to have a secret. It gives me an edge.”

“Wow. I did not think me telling you I wanted to fuck the Winter Soldier would lead to all of this.” You poked fun at the situation.

“Me either but I’m glad it did.” He remarked. “I’m happy that you know. And I’m happy that you love me.”

“Well don’t make a big deal out of it.” You mumbled. “It’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed.” He laughed. “This is exciting. It’s all exciting.”

“We get it.” You teased as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You’re an Avenger, I’m in love with you, yada yada. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It’s the hugest deal.” He insisted. “I want you to meet them. Come meet my team.”

“You want me to meet the Avengers?” You gulped.

“Yeah. I’m supposed to stop by the tower later for a meeting. Why don’t you come with me? This is one of the rare days where everyone is in the tower.”

“Are you sure about this?” You asked him. “What if they don’t like me?”

“They probably won’t.” He said simply. “Since you’re so irritating and everything.”

“Shut up.” You shoved him playfully. “I’m serious. This is way more intimidating than meeting someone’s parents.”

“Don’t be scared. I’ll be holding your hand the entire time.” He said as he kissed your knuckles. “And they’re way less intimidating than they seem. I promise, you’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” You reluctantly agreed. “I’ll meet them. But if I see Bucket, I can’t promise I’ll be able to control my hormones.”

“It’s Bucky.” He corrected. “And I’ll know if you’re getting too, you know, hot and bothered.”

“How would you know?” You asked, and his face flushed.

“Well, one of the powers I got was super smell. I can smell when people are scared or happy or…” He trialed off, too much or a gentleman to say the word.

“Horny?” You asked with a dropped jaw. “You can smell when people are horny?”

“I prefer the term aroused.” He said sheepishly, making you laugh loudly.

“Oh my God. What a pervert.” You teased him.

“It’s not my fault!” He was flustered now. “I didn’t ask for this power.”

“Wait.” You realized. “Can you smell when I’m aroused?”

Peter didn’t answer, but his silence spoke volumes. Your jaw dropped as you playfully smacked him.

“You pervert!” You painfully scolded. “You could smell that and never told me?”

“It’s my my fault.” He whined. “Not all the time, anyway.”

“So when is it your fault?” You folded your arms and he gulped.

“It’s only my fault when I purposefully wear that one white shirt.” He said quietly. “Whenever I’m wearing it, I can always, you know...”

“Smell me?” You nearly screamed. “You wear that shirt just to get a rise out of me? You little slut.”

“I’m not a slut.” Peter laughed. “I could just smell how much you liked it, so I started wearing it more. And in the name of being honest, I can smell you right now.”

“Oh my God. You whore. You little minx.” You taunted playfully. “Using your body for attention like that. What a dirty little slut.”

“I’m not dirty or a slut.” Peter insisted. “You’re the one who gets worked up over a t shirt.”

“Excuse me?” You let out a shocked laugh. “Don’t turn this around on me, mister. I can’t control how I react to your erotic clothing. Especially when you’re the one who can’t even form a sentence around me when I wear that one red skirt.”

“Erotic?” He shot back. “It’s literally a $5 shirt from Target. It’s shapeless. And that skirt could not be shorter. I can literally see your ovaries in it.”

“You give it shape with your stupid spider muscles.” You said as you pointed an accusing finger at him.

“Oh my God.” He gasped. “You’re thinking about the shirt now, aren’t you?”

“No I’m not.” You said quickly.

“Really?” He cocked his head. “Smells like you are.”

Before you could respond, and you had a lot to say, Peter’s phone buzzed.

“It’s Mr. Stark.” He told you. “He said I should come now.”

“We’re finishing this conversation later.” You said as you grabbed your phone. “You’re still in trouble.”

“Whatever you say.” Peter chuckled as he lead you out the door. You thought you were going to the elevator, but Peter brought you to the staircase.

“I don’t walk there.” He said as he lead you up the stairs. He opened the door to the roof and gestured to the edge. “I swing.”

The next thing you knew, you were swinging towards the Avengers tower in Peter’s arms. You held on tightly to him as you tried not to scream in his ear. He was loving how he finally got to show someone what his life was like while you were fearing for your life. Finally, you landed on the balcony of the tower and Peter set you down.

“So?” He asked excitedly. “Did you have fun?”

“You tell me. Can’t you smell my excitement?” You jeered as you caught your breath. Peter knew you weren’t going to drop that for a long time. He took his mask off and lead you inside, not wanting to tell you that he could smell how scared you were.

Finally, he brought you to the conference room where the rest of the Avengers were. Their causal chatter came to a stop when you walked in together and all eyes were on you.

“Hey everyone.” Peter said shyly. “This is my girlfriend, Y/n. Shes gonna sit in on the meeting today.”

“Y/n?” Nat jumped in immediately. “The one who’s hair you used to stick gum in when you were little?”

“I thought Y/n was the girl who filled your locker with extra small condoms and the filmed you when they all fell out.” Sam chuckled, giving you an impressed smile.

“No, wait.” Bruce cut in. “I thought she was the one who started the rumor that Peter didn’t know how to swim.”

“You’re all wrong.” Steve sighed. “Y/n is the one Peter blamed losing the class pet on. Remember? The little rat escaped and he told the class it was her fault.”

“It was a hamster.” Peter cringed. “And it was my fault. Sorry about that.”

“I love you, but I will never forgive you for that.” You smiled softly as you stroked his cheek with your thumb. The team looked at each knowingly at this display of affection.

“Love?” Tony asked as he entered the room. “Are we talking about how much you all love me?”

Tony stopped in his tracks when he saw you standing there. You had forgotten to take off Peter’s original Spider-man hoodie, and it caught Tony off guard. He never thought he’d see that hoodie again, the one that brought him to Peter in the first place. The one he studied and tried to replicate when he made Peter a new suit. The corners of his mouth turned down as he appreciated how much Peter had grown.

“Oh. I see Peter brought a friend.” Tony remarked. “Please, make yourself at home in our top secret facility that no one unauthorized personnel is supposed to enter.”

“Mr. Stark, this is my girlfriend Y/n.” Peter introduced you. You held out your hand for Tony to shake, and he did so without taking his eyes off of you.

“Y/n?” He asked. “The one-“

“Yeah. Probably.” You nodded, making him laugh.

“Nice to meet you, Y/n.” He said as he straightened himself out. “You’re welcome to sit in on the meeting. But if you make any noise, you will be taken out by a sniper.”

“He’s kidding.” Peter whispered to you, but he wasn’t entirely sure. Peter took a seat and you sat on his lap, making him fight back a smile. He was now at an Avengers meeting with his former enemy sitting on his lap, wearing his clothes.

“Thank you, sir.” You smiled at him. “It’s nice to meet you too. All of you. I appreciate everything you guys have done for the world. You’re all really brave.”

“Your boyfriend is pretty brave too.” Steve commented. “He surprises me everytime we work together.”

“I was surprised too.” You agreed. “I didn’t think the biggest loser I knew was protecting Queens.”

Everyone raised their eyebrows at your subtle jab at Peter and it suddenly made sense why the girl he’d been complaint about all these years had the same name as his girlfriend.

“You let her talk to you like that?” Sam teased.

“She can say whatever she wants.” Peter shrugged. “And she does. Do you know how hard it is to get her to stop talking?”

“Not nearly as hard as it is to get you to clean up after yourself, put the toilet seat down, or show up on time for dates.” You replied with a cheery smile. Peter smiled back and took the loss, not wanting to get into it in front of his team. He turned back to Tony and gave him his full attention as the meeting began. You stayed quiet on Peter’s lap as the team discussed their next mission and who would be covering what territory. You made a small noise when Tony gave Peter his assignment, making everyone look at you.

“Whats the matter?” Peter asked as he bounced you a little on his knee.

“I just didn’t realize you were such an important part of the team.” You said. Peter had a big role that required a lot more responsibility than you thought he was capable of. He didn’t seem worried in the slightest, which told you he was used to this much responsibility. Something about Peter’s ambition and ability to take on Avenger level tasks for very appealing to you.

So appealing, in fact, that Peter noticed.

“Hm.” Peter said and he sniffed the air. You folded your lips in, knowing exactly what he was doing. The rest of the team had no idea what was happening, but you knew Peter was trying to get a rise out of you.

“What’s wrong?” Nat took the bait. You pinched Peter’s leg under the table as he took another loud whiff.

“Nothing.” Peter smirked. “It just smells funny in here.”

Tag List 🏷

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker enemies to lovers #peter parker angst #peter parker fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #marvel #spiderman

[michwritesstuff]

Late Nights (The Outer Banks: Rafe Cameron)

This song just gives giant Rafe Cameron enemies to lovers vibes! Also, Holy shit, this is my longest work ever! I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much I enjoyed writing it!

This takes place season 1, before Rafe kills Peterkin. Let’s just pretend he’s not a psychopath. He’s still the resident bad boy of Figure 8, but not a killer…

summary: female reader (she/her) x Rafe Cameron When Y/N finds herself abandoned by her friends at a house party thrown by no other than Kook King, Topper Thornton, she finds odd company in the form of her classmates and neighbors that she has taken very little liking to. She is surprised to learn that her disinterest in all things “kook-related” has sparked the interest of a particular kook. tw: mention of alcohol/drug consumption, slight smut (18+) word count: 4.1k

Y/N might’ve been a kook, but if it wasn’t for her consistent attendance to Figure Eight events you wouldn’t have known. She hated all the superficial bullshit and quickly found herself befriending a certain group of pogues who she would often run into while working on the Cut. Everything in her life had been so easy for her, and although she was grateful, she couldn’t help but feel guilty about the privilege she received while her friends had spent their life fighting for a chance. Being able to find an ally in Kie was all that Y/N had to look forward to as she continued to find a place for herself among the fight between class divisions in her small hometown.

Summer was coming to an end, and with a few weeks left you couldn’t help but just enjoy the moments with your friends. Sitting on the small boat as the sun slowly set, passing the blunt around while you all tried to keep a serious conversation going before blurting out laughing at some stupid shit JJ had said. You had even found an unlikely friend in the form of kook princess, Sarah Cameron. You had known Sarah Cameron for as long as you could remember, always greeting each other’s families at events and having at least one class together every year. But this was different, you had known Sarah but never gave her a chance to hang out. When John B mentioned her a few weeks ago and started to bring her around you and the other pogues were stunned to say the least. You knew that she was dating Topper Thornton, I mean everyone knew that, but what she had with John B was different, at least from what you had seen. “This was great guys, but I promised Topper I would meet him at his party. Keep up appearances, you know?” Sarah said unsurely. Everyone looked around, nodding in understandment, except John B. “I don’t like him,” JJ spoke up, standing up for John B who continued sulking in silence. “Yeah, him and Rafe are always doing some shit,” Pope also spoke up. “You guys have no idea,” Kiara replied while rolling her eyes at the thought of the kook boys she had known so well. You also nodded in response. “Yeah, well I would invite you guys, but I can’t imagine that going over well.” Once again everyone nodded in agreement, except John B. “What if Y/N goes with you,” he suggested. “Thanks for throwing me under the bus!” you exclaimed back at him. Sarah turned to you with a shy smile, “It’s not such a bad idea. I mean you would know almost everyone.” “Yeah, so does Kie, you don’t see her being volunteered to go,” you exclaimed again. “That’s because they actually like you,” Kie replied, smirking when you rolled your eyes at her statement, she was right. “C’mon Y/N it’ll be fun. You’ll have me to hang out with and if you absolutely hate it, we’ll make up an excuse and leave. Besides, it’d be nice to have someone there that I don’t need to be fake with.” You thought for a moment before slowly nodding your head, cursing under your breath as your friends cheered around you. “There’s our little kookie,” JJ stated, jumping away in defense as you attempted to punch his arm.

The bass of the music pounded in your ears as you walked up the driveway. If even possible it got louder once you finally entered the front door, you swore your eardrums were about to rupture. Finding the kitchen, you reached out for two truly’s, your disappointment in the night continuing as feeling they were just room temperature. They weren’t your first choice of alcohol to get through a night like this and seeing as though they weren’t even cold made it worse. You instantly cracked it open, downing as much as you could on the first sip. You handed the other one to Sarah, bumping your open can to her’s in an attempt to say cheers. She laughed at you, “I’m gonna go find Topper. You’ll be okay if I leave you alone for a few minutes?” You took another sip before responding, “Figured this would happen at some point, yeah I’ll be good.” Watching her leave your eyes scanned the kitchen, deciding you needed to loosen up some more you pushed off the counter, “I need something stronger,” you whispered under your breath.

Making your way through the house you scanned the room for unattended bottles you could mooch off. To your surprise you were pulled by the arm, “Omg Y/N, what are you doing here?” a girly high-pitched voice screeched. You turned around, already ready to use your preppy voice, “Hey Claire,” you responded in a mock happy voice matching hers. Claire was sweet, n just not your cup of tea. The two of you had always been civil, sharing a few classes here and there. “Mind if I?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle of Tito’s vodka in her hand. “Oh sure, just be careful. I’ve gotten fucked up with this shit more times than I could remember,” she laughed while handing you the bottle. You lift the bottle up to your lips, the taste on the rim barely making an impact on your tastebuds. But as you thew your head back and lifted the bottle you took one big swig. The alcohol ran down your throat, a warmth following the path it took as it settled in your stomach. “Ugh, Claire, that shit is just straight rubbing alcohol. How the fuck do you drink that?” you exclaimed, handing her the bottle as you wiped the back of your mouth with your hand. She laughed at your reaction, “Believe me, in a little while you won’t even care how it tastes. Just know that you’ll feel it.” You nodded your head while once again scanning your eyes across the room. A few feet away was a coffee table surrounded by teens. Claire noticed your interest and dragged you over. Looking up from the table was Rafe Cameron, Sarah’s brother, who on more than one account you had gotten into a heated argument about your choice of friends. The two of you made eye contact as he wiped the leftover residue from the line of cocaine he had just done. Classy as ever Cameron, you thought as you broke eye contact and examined all the other teens waiting their turn. Rafe greeted Claire with a smirk and half-nod before returning his attention to you. “Awww Y/L/N, get tired of hanging around those boring old pogues, and decided to have some real fun?” he mocked while gesturing to the lines set up in front of him. You scoffed at his suggestion, “Keep dreaming,” you responded. Living in your teenage years and drinking was one thing, but if your parents caught you doing drugs there was a good chance you wouldn’t have much of a life to live. Making eye contact with you he slowly lowered himself closer to the table, quickly doing another line before looking up at you again. Is this kid trying to kill himself? you thought to yourself. You reached out for Claire’s bottle, taking another swig before motioning it up to Rafe. “Always a pleasure Cameron,” you stated before handing Claire her bottle.

Leaving the room, you realized that you hadn’t seen Sarah for a while. Wandering around the house in attempt to find her you bumped into Topper. “Hey Top, seen Sarah anywhere?” you asked. “Uhm a little while ago, she said she went to go find you,” he said quizzingly. “Yeah, right. Just kidding, she went to the bathroom. I’ll go find her,” you quickly spitted out. Nearly running you got away from Topper as fast as you could before finding an empty spot on the wall. Leaning back against the wall, you pulled your phone from your pocket and found a few texts from Sarah and one from John B. “Hey Y/N, John B showed up.” “We just left, please distract Topper.” “I owe you one.” You responded back, “ughh ok, I’m on it.” Clicking on John B’s name you read his message, “sorry kookie, had to steal her. thanks!” You rolled your eyes at the dumb nickname him and the others decided for you, their attempt to always tease you about your kook lifestyle. You sent him the middle finger emoji and a yellow heart before turning your phone off and looking around for Topper. Spotting him talking to Kelce you kept your place on the wall. As long as you could see him and he couldn’t see you, there was no reason to suspect anything about Sarah. Besides, after about half an hour you could probably make a break for the exit, and no one would notice.

As you continued to scroll on your phone you were slightly startled by the presence of another human standing near you. Your eyes looked up to a boy standing in front of you. He was tall, but you couldn’t ignore how young and immature he looked. “Don’t even think about it freshman,” you said before he had the chance. He laughed while nodding his head. “Hey, I had to try. Should’ve known a girl as smart as you wouldn’t give me a chance,” he responded. You gave him a quizzical look as you quickly glanced him up and down. He wasn’t too dumb if he knew to compliment your intelligence over any physical feature. He reached his hand out to shake yours, “I’m Nathan.” You glanced at his hand for a second before reluctantly shaking it “I’m Y/N,” you replied. “I know,” he said a little too quickly making the both of you chuckle. “Mrs. Nichol said you were the captain of the mock trial team. She talked to you the other day about me joining,” he rambled on. You laughed at his apparent nervousness. “Oh yeah, well I guess it’s nice to meet you, Nathan. Not exactly the type of place to bring up extracurriculars,” you laughed while motioning to the number of teens, drugs, and alcohol around you. As you did you could feel the stare from a certain kook, no doubt watching your exchange with the boy in front of you. “Probably not, but it did get you talking to me,” he quirked back. Nodding your head in amusement at his reply you responded, “Touché.” As the volume of the music had apparently increased within the last few seconds of your exchange, Nathan leaned forward slightly so he could hear you better. “Can I get you something to drink?” He asked while leaning down. “I can take it from here,” you heard Rafe speak from behind you as he slid his hand around to the small of your back. Confused by the situation unraveling in front of you, you were quick to speak. “Uhm, actually Cameron, Nathan and I were having a lovely conversation about something you couldn’t possibly be interested in,” you stated attempting to distance yourself away from Rafe and closer to Nathan. “Yeah, I—” Nathan attempted to speak before being interrupted, “Seriously, Miller, beat it or practice on Monday will be hell.” You confusingly looked at Nathan and Rafe before finally understanding. Just like you would be Nathan’s captain, so was Rafe. “Water polo?” you questioned. “Yeah, you’ll catch a game?” he asked in return. “Yeah!” you said sweetly before a mocking scoff turned your attention to Rafe, to which your surprise still had his hand on the small of your back, it almost felt natural that you hadn’t noticed it was still there. Looking at him expectantly he pulled his hands away holding them up in an ‘ok I get it’ way. “Can I help you?” you asked expectantly. “Care to go for a swim?” he asked. You looked at him confused, you weren’t sure if it was your light buzz from your shots of vodka talking but he seemed just as surprised as you were as you answered, “yes!”

As he grabbed your hand, you quietly followed as he led you through the house. “I’m gonna need more alcohol before we do this,” you exclaimed as loud as you could, hoping he would hear you over the volume of the music. He turned to look at you for a moment before turning back and nodding, showing that he had in fact heard your request. Walking through the kitchen he left you at the counter while reaching into one of the cabinets, pulling down a full bottle of Tito’s. He motioned you from your spot and you continued to follow. “My parents got this as a gift for the Thornton’s but it’s not really their style.” You nodded understandingly, Topper’s parents didn’t really seem like the type to be chugging back vodka shots, they were more sophisticated. Following him through the house you were confused as you walked past the sliding glass door that led to the pool and the dozens of other teens who had the same idea you two had, or so you thought. “Where are we going?” you asked. Rafe stayed silent as you continued following him. Opening another set of glass doors, he let you exit first before quickly following. On the side of the house was a hot tub that apparently no one knew about, seeing as though you and Rafe were the only ones out here. “What the hell is this, Cameron?” you asked. He looked at you, confusion evident on his face. “You said we were going swimming. We can’t do that in a hot tub.” He laughed before handing you the now open bottle of Tito’s, watching you take a sip he replied, “What, did you plan on working on your breaststroke or something?” He said jokingly. “No, I actually planned on playing mermaids. Maybe it’s you who needs to work on breaststroke,” you responded wittily. He feigned shock and hurt, taking the bottle from your hand. “My breaststroke is amazing, just ask your friend Claire,” he winked as you scoffed in amusement and disgust. After taking another sip he handed the bottle back to you, removing his clothes he stripped down until he was in his boxers. That left little to the imagination as you could see the outline of his dick printed. Feeling your eyes, he gave you a smirk to which you sheepishly took another sip of vodka, shaking as you felt the liquid burn down your throat. Entering the hot tub, he sat with arms spread out to both his sides, resting on the edge. “Aren’t you going to join me?” he asked. You nodded, feeling your breath catch in your throat. You handed him the bottle, starting to undress as you felt his eyes drawn to your exposed skin where you had begun to lift your shirt. “Hey! Turn around Cameron,” you exclaimed. He put his hands up in defense, turning his head so his attention was drawn to the bubbles and pressure coming from the jets. Folding your shirt and jeans on to the table nearby you turned back around to Rafe examining your exposed body adorning a basic black sports bra and lace thong. You immediately turned red, not knowing how to react under his intense stare. As you entered the hot tub you slipped when placing your foot on the bench to step in, landing you a little closer to Rafe then you planned. He held your arm as you attempted to steady yourself. “You alright?” he asked. You were able to manage out a “mhmm” as you reached for another sip from the bottle. He gladly handed you the bottle, a lazy smile on his face.

You weren’t sure how you always ended up like this but something about being drunk and outside led to you staring at the moon and stars. ��What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Rafe asked, breaking the silence. You tried to remain calm with his choice of words, not wanting him to know the effect he was having on you. “Just thinking,” you responded quietly. “About what,” you scanned his face for a second, genuine interest radiating off him. “As niche as it sounds, life…I mean doesn’t this all seem so pathetic,” you stated as you continued to stare off into the sky. “Life?” he asked, laughing to mask his confusion. You chuckled along with him, “No, this…pogues vs. kooks. It’s all so fucking dumb. There are so many more problems out there, so many people who need help and we can’t even come together to help people in our own community.” He just hummed as you continued to ramble on, listening to what you had to say. “I can’t help but just feel guilty. I mean what did I do to deserve this type of life. I mean my parents work hard but they’ve had so many opportunities because of their parents and their parents, and it just keeps going. This sort of generational wealth and success…” you quietly trailed off as you realized who you were talking to. “But I mean you probably don’t care,” you said while looking at him. He shook his head with a smirk. “Now I know why Sarah never shuts up about how smart you are.” You looked at him more intently, “what?” you exclaimed. He nodded his head, before turning his attention to the sky like you had before. “I mean, I guess I just never thought of it that way. Kind of blind to the privilege that I have.” “Must be all the coke,” you mumbled to yourself under your breath. He shot you a warning look before chuckling, “might be the coke,” he responded. You laughed along with him before a serious tone washed over him. “I mean it Y/N, you’re just so attuned to the needs of others,” He exclaimed. “Well, you can be like that too,” you reassured him. “Yeah right, there’s not a lot of hope left for me,” he replied sarcastically. “That’s not true. I mean sure you have your flaws, but from what I’ve seen you’re a good friend, loyal and family is important to you. Those are good qualities, and I mean of course you’re not half bad looking.” He laughed at the last part. “Well, Y/L/N, you’re extremely caring, intelligent, and hot as fuck! So, you have that going for you.” It was your turn to laugh and turn red at his comment.  You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol dulling your senses, but as you looked into Rafe’s eyes you felt yourself being drawn closer. You both leaned in, lips barely brushing each other as your breaths slowed. “Can I kiss you,” he asked. You could barely hear him over the sound of your own heart beating in your chest. “Please,” you nearly whined. Your tone making Rafe swoon as he gently pushed his lips onto yours.

As happy as you were with his gentleness, the alcohol you had consumed throughout the night had made you far hornier than you liked to admit. Leaning deeper into the kiss you gently placed your hands onto his chest before lightly pushing him back to so you could straddle his lap. As you did so, Rafe took a large sip from the bottle, as you looked at him expectantly. He gave you a smirk before bringing the bottle close to your lips, tilting your head back, you let him pour some of the alcohol down your throat. Before you could process the liquid once again burning the back your throat you pressed a heated kiss on to his lips. As your hands moved up from their place on his chest to the back of his neck, playing with the ends of his hair, his hands move from where he was setting the bottle down to trailing around your waist and landing on your ass, holding you in place. As your tongues continued to fight for dominance, he pulled away slightly. Kissing down your jaw and starting to suck on your neck you slightly grinded down on to him while continuing to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. His hands left your waist, guiding your hips back and forth as you continued to grind on him. As he continued to work on your neck you moaned as he found your sweet spot, “Fuck Rafe,” you exclaimed. You could feel him smirk as he continued. Giving him a break, you leaned forward slightly, changing the angle to which you were grinding down on him and leaving marks over his neck and chest. “Fuck babe,” he stated. “Being so good to me,” he continued as he leaned in for another kiss. “Yes, sir,” you said, testing the waters. You could clearly tell that you were starting to drive Rafe crazy as he moaned into your mouth at your response. Roughly grabbing your hip, he speeded the pace of your grinding. As you continued to litter marks along his chest, he reached a hand up to pull your sports bra down far enough so that your boobs were spilling over the top. The pressure of the band along with the added sensation of Rafe’s mouth on your nipple was almost too much. Along with this you could feel how hard he had gotten under you. I mean, you knew he was big, but this was godly. Your makeout session was quickly abrupted as you both snapped your heads to the sound of the glass doors sliding open. Quickly removing yourself from Rafe’s lap and adjusting your bra, you sat silently, reaching for the bottle again. “What’s up Top?” Rafe asked nonchalantly. Topper looked at you both slyly, clearly knowing what he half-witnessed between the two of you. “Not much, I can’t find Sarah anywhere Y/N. And she’s not answering her fucking calls.” “Yeah, she wasn’t feeling well. Said she headed home; her phone probably died. Don’t worry Top,” you said as convincingly as the alcohol would let you. Topper seemed to accept your answer and reentered the house. Rafe looked at you unconvincingly. “She just left you?” he asks. Avoiding his gaze, you let your hands play with the water. Slowly nodding your head, you responded, “guess so…” “That doesn’t sound like Sarah,” he continued. “Well that’s what happened,” you snapped. Thinking about the conversation you would have to have with Sarah about how you failed to keep Topper distracted and the alcohol finally making its presence in your system known was too much to handle. “Ughh back to reality, I guess,” you groaned out. Rafe pulled you into his side so that his arm was around your shoulder and your head resting on his. “What are you up to now?” he asked. “Figuring how to make it home alive,” you chuckled dryly. He hummed in thought next to you. After a second, he spoke, surprising you in the process, “Stay with me.” “Rafe…” you dragged out unsurely. “Seriously Y/N, that way you don’t have to worry about going home right now.” You looked at him for a second before slowly nodding. Getting out of the hot tub he disappeared for a second before returning with a set of towels. As you both dried yourselves off and gathered your clothes you headed to Topper’s guestroom.

Stumbling around in your drunken state, Rafe grabbed the clothes from your hand. Setting them on a nearby table he turned so that you were facing each other. Reaching down slightly he grabbed your legs from under your thighs so that he was now carrying you. Feeling the warmth of his chest you pressed closer, wrapping your legs around his hips in the process. With each step you slightly bounced against him. The sexual tension from earlier quickly returning. Finally reaching the room Rafe laid down so that you were now on your back while he hovered over you. With your legs around his waist and arms around his neck you gently pulled him in, pecking a sweet kiss on your lips. “I need to shower,” you said shyly. He nodded his head, pulling away slightly so he was standing, and you stayed sprawled out on the bed. “I’ll go get us some water,” he stated as he slowly walked out the room. Leaving the door cracked enough so he wouldn’t bother anyone with the sound of it opening and closing you sat up, finally taking in your surroundings. Getting up and heading to the bathroom you folded your towel, pulling off your bra and underwear as you let the water run until it was hot enough. As you let the water run over your body you stood for a minute, just thinking about everything that had happened that night, you rub your hands down your face, muttering “fuck.” You weren’t sure what was happening, but it was a problem future you would just have to deal with later.

a/n: If you like my work please support by liking/reblogging. Also, feel free to message me about ideas. I haven’t written in a while because I don’t have a lot of time, but when inspiration hits i’ll sit down for hours :)

Masterlist

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[softykooky]

the habits of a broken heart.

☾ genre : soulmates au, unrequited love, art student!JK, english student!Y/N, angst, fluff, subtle enemies to lovers

☾ pairing : jeon jungkook x reader

☾ summary : jungkook and you are soulmates. so says the matching crescent moons on both your wrists. however, things are never as easy as they seem, and you are quick to learn that falling in love with someone who does not believe in love is a one-way ticket to heartbreak. 

alternatively,

“You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”

☾ word count: 26.3k (my biggest one yet!)

☾ author’s note: this took forever oh my gosh! i really hope you like it! it’s my first time writing such a big single piece, and trying a different style. thank you so much for your support, always! please let me know what you think ♡

The first time he had his heart broken, Jeon Jungkook had been 13 years old. He was fresh out of middle school and so ready to face his freshman year with an impressionable mind and plenty of voice cracks to earn him months worth of teasing. You see, at the age of 13, Jungkook wasn’t something to swoon over. He had yet to grow into his ears and Dr. Park assured him that his braces would be off as soon as she could get them. He was a little lanky and a bit too reticent to be considered social. So when a girl in his grade comes up to him, nervous and stuttering, and asks him to go to the heavily romanticized homecoming dance, Jungkook has already come to the conclusion that she might be his soulmate, even if he was far too young to get his mark yet. 

Her name was Mina, and Jungkook is confronted with this memory every time he visits home and his mother makes the family flip through the photo albums dating back to his high school years. He grimaces every time he sees the picture of them together. Him in a pink button-up to match her offensively ugly ruffled taffeta dress. 

Mina broke up with him three months after that picture was taken, through one of her friends no less and in front of his entire gym class. Jungkook couldn’t remember how long he cried for while he felt the pain from his first heartbreak would never go away, regardless of how much time passes. He held onto his mother and sobbed out the agony and humiliation of Mina not wanting to be his girlfriend anymore, and how he had lost his soulmate before he even knew it was her. His mother assured him that without the mark, there was no way to be sure and that there was hope. But back then, all Jungkook could think of was ways to avoid Mina the next day, especially when they sat next to each other in 3rd period biology.  

At 13 years old, Jungkook thought he would never find love again. 

He is 18 when he stands alongside his parents in a pale examination room and awaits his destiny. He’s leaving for college the next day, yet the only thing that’s making him nervous is the mark that will inevitably appear on his wrist in the next few minutes. The same one he would find on his soulmate’s, and Jungkook wonders if there is the possibility of scaring everyone away when the first thing he’ll ask on a date is: can I please see your wrist? 

To say the least, Jungkook is petrified. Because that mark on his wrist is going to serve as a constant reminder of his missing piece, and Jungkook knows he’ll always feel lacking until he finds them. It’s a crescent moon. Small and black and nestled comfortably on his skin. He knows many times the marks don’t have any correlation with the couples, but Jungkook wonders if you are an astrologist. Or an astronaut. Or just had a weird affinity for the moon. He smiles when they congratulate him and can’t stop himself from thinking that he might be in love with you already. Wherever you are. When he leaves for university, he feels less lonely when there is a crescent moon to accompany him. 

Contrary to the beliefs of his 13-year old self, Jungkook does fall in love again. Hard. This time, it was a girl with brown hair and big eyes and a smile so pretty he could see it from across a crowded room. She was a grade below him; a frazzled college freshman with no clue to where her lecture hall was, and he: a sophomore who had a compulsion of changing his major every other month. When he met her, it had been chemical engineering and three weeks before that was film composition. Her name was Yoojung, 18 years old while he was 19.

 Her soulmate mark is a single star, and even though he knows she is not his soulmate, he can’t help but to think how perfectly their marks complement each other. How they would make a perfect night sky. 

They had met at a frat party, no less, and the combination of cheap booze and bad hiphop music had made her look so incredibly gorgeous under the dim lighting. They had their first kiss in a random person’s living room, highly intoxicated and much too irresponsible and Jungkook had barely even remembered it in the morning until she showed up at his doorstep and invited herself in. Yet it wasn’t too long before he made a perfect space for Yoojung in his life.

 Each day after his physics lecture, he’d go to her dorm and they’d chat over breakfast until she had economics at 10 o’ clock. After she was done, he’d insist that they go get a greasy hamburger at the joint his friends took him to when they got high and, she’d end up dragging them both to the health food restaurant that prided themselves on only using organic. Leave it to Jungkook to find himself a vegan girlfriend. 

Sometimes though, when he looks at Yoojung, his mind drifts to his actual soulmate and a little flower named guilt blooms in his chest. But he is so young and his other half could be anywhere in the world, so Jungkook thinks there is no harm in allowing himself to indulge in a little affection. These days, it wasn’t completely abnormal for soulmates to part ways, and when Yoojung is in his arms, Jungkook likes to think that his soulmate would understand. They would want him to be happy. In the middle of synchronizing their busy student schedules and sneaking in quick kisses through cramming for finals, he had found it unnervingly easy to fall in love with her. 

Deeply and blindly in love. 

Yoojung brought him home to her family on fall breaks and the occasional winter vacation and Jungkook had melded perfectly into their dynamic. The son I never had, her father would tell him over the dinner table while her mother constantly made sure his plate was piled high. Her little sister was visibly in love with him, and would ask Yoojung where he was every time she came home from university, yet avoiding him at all costs when he was there. 

Jungkook’s own family, however, was a different story. To put it delicately, they had liked it more when he came home by himself and left her at school. It had put a strain on their relationship sure, but at the end of the day, Jungkook loved her. A simple love. 

Every day he remembers that their marks do not match. But if this is love and he feels like he is on cloud 9 with every moment they are together, Jungkook begins to doubt if the universe’s will is truly divine and successful. Maybe Yoojung was his soulmate and it did not matter what was on their wrists. 

He loved her intensely, and she did him. She was the first thing on his mind when he woke up and manifested in his dreams when he slept at night. To Jungkook, Yoojung could do no wrong. Like some sort of divine being or angel that the heavens sent just for him, and he found himself thinking maybe he wouldn’t mind spending the rest of his life beside her. 

But he would come to learn that the higher the climb...the harder the fall. 

Jungkook and Yoojung were together for the better part of 4 years before she cheated on him with a guy that she’d supposedly met a couple weeks ago. When Jungkook screams at her asking why she had been disloyal, Yoojung shows him her wrist. Her single inked star. 

“I found my soulmate, Jungkook. And I love you so much, you know I do. I didn’t know how to tell you so I…”

The rest of her words fade into white noise and all Jungkook can do is look at her and commit every detail to memory as he feels her fade farther away. Her teary and remorseful brown eyes. Her plush lips. The fan of her eyelashes and the mole on the side of her temple. He’ll never get to see her like this again. 

“I was ready to be with you, soulmate or not. I know it’s not fair but I wanted the same from you”, he whispers, falling down on the couch and burying his face in his hands. 

“Soulmates be damned, the universe was wrong. I was so hideously in love with you. How could you not at least tell me when you met him?” Jungkook feels his heart collapsing in on itself with every word of resignation. Of burgeoning acceptance. Yoojung can only mirror his desolate expression and stares down at the star on her skin.

 Jungkook wishes it were a moon. 

“Just go, Yoojung.” 

It would have hurt less if it was only a one night stand with a stranger she did not know the name of. He was in love and spineless enough to move past a one night stand. However, Yoojung had found her soulmate and fallen in love with him. Jungkook had merely acted as a placeholder for the real deal to come along and sweep her off her feet. 

This time he doesn’t cry. Just stares out the window of his living room and wonders what it would be like to disappear altogether. When the door is slammed shut, and he is left to nurse his aching soul, Jungkook apologizes in advance to the person that shares the same mark on their wrist as him. He no longer believes that soulmates exist. 

When Jungkook looks back at his 13 year old self with the innocent construct of what heartbreak feels like, he wants to laugh and maybe slap that stupid boy upside the head. Yoojung had destroyed him. Destroyed the innocent and starry-eyed person that he’s tried so hard to preserve. Destroyed his vulnerability and bright outlook on life and in their place, cultivated walls of rock and steel meant to keep everyone out and him safely tucked inside. In her wake, Yoojung left behind a shell of a man who pushed his emotions so deep he became numb and forgot what it was like to feel. 

So Jungkook does what he always does to push away the hurt. He changes his major; to art history this time. He stacks up bracelets on his wrist to forget the mark of a moon. He scrapes up his rainy day money and treats himself to the most expensive pair of Saint Laurent boots he’s ever worn. He tests the limits of the human liver, and takes advantage of the biceps and jawline he’s acquired since high school to establish a reputation. 

To his friends, Jungkook remained raucous and always down to order infinite rounds of shots until he couldn’t see straight. To those that looked even closer, Jungkook was so completely shattered he didn’t even feel it anymore. 

The second time he had his heart broken, Jungkook was 23. He promised himself he wouldn’t let it happen again. 

◐

“For the last time, Jimin, I’m not going to give you a blowjob so you can pay for my student loans.”

You don’t know how many times you’ve had this conversation with your roommate. Most of the time, it was convenient to have a roommate whose parents were loaded and sent him monthly installments that looked more like small loans than allowances. You knew he just wanted to help. Heck, he probably would be willing to pay them off for you without the promiscuous favor, but you had made it clear to Jimin that you wouldn’t be riding off of his charity. 

“Ugh, Y/N you’re really no fun”, he sighs, falling backwards onto your twin-sized bed and feigning devastation. You reward his melodrama with a giggle, ruffling your hands through his fried hair. Jimin had a knack for changing his hair color as quickly as his mood. 

You look at the bill that’s staring back at you from your computer screen, and it feels like it’s just reached out and punched you in the face. “Hey do you think it’s a common mistake for bank tellers to add a few too many zeroes?” 

“Y/N.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m rationalizing as a self-defense mechanism.” Sometimes it was annoying that your roommate had a degree in psychology. Then again, Jimin was making more money than you and your degree in English. 

You sigh deeply and look up at the ceiling in attempts to quell your tears of frustration. And also because it is a plea to whoever is up there controlling your destiny: please I’m begging you. Melt my debt away. 

You and Jimin sit in comfortable silence and he plays with the hem of your worn comforter while you scroll through the emails you have been ignoring in your inbox. You want to smash your head in at all the deadlines. Times like these, there is one thing that brings you comfort and always has since you turned 18. 

The quaint little crescent moon that sits right atop your radius. 

You had a habit of pressing your thumb against it and feeling your pulse against the mark, stupidly wondering if your soulmate’s heartbeat has synched up with your own. If he was out there somewhere, touching his mark and wondering the same about you. He was taking his sweet time, that’s for sure. Jimin sees your nervous tic and sighs again.

“You’re so hopelessly romantic it makes me want to barf, Y/N.” You scowl at his words and chuck a pillow at his unsuspecting face. 

“I don’t understand you, Jimin. Your soulmate is out there and you’re not the slightest bit curious? You don’t want to do anything extra to find them?” Jimin looks at you with a knowing smile.

“That’s exactly it, though. I know they’re my soulmate and I’ll find them when the time is right. So why worry about it? It’s better not to force anything.” His statement is followed up with a grin and his fingers reach out to pinch your cheeks. This was the dynamic of your friendship. He is easy-going and flows like a careless river. You’ve read one too many books to not vie and daydream for the moment you lock eyes with your soulmate. 

Your mom always said that you’ll know just from a look. It’s like getting hit over the head with a ray of sun, she said. Like suddenly their eyes are the only eyes you ever want to look into again. Since then, you’ve dreamt for the day you find someone with that same moon on their wrist. For now though, you had more immediate concerns more along the lines of crippling debt. 

“What do I do, Jimin? Should I be a stripper?” He laughs and the thought makes you groan. You couldn’t even walk in heels, much less try to dance or look like you didn’t have two left feet. Stripper life just wasn’t for you. 

“Hm...I could call in a few favors for you at the office. Get you an internship or secretary position.” 

“Maybe. Too much nepotism. Your father owns the office you work at”, you remind him, and his eyebrows crease further in thought. God, maybe you do have to be a stripper.

“Wait!” Jimin yelps so suddenly you almost fling the computer off your lap. 

“I think I know someone. He’s been looking for a model for his art portfolio or something, and he said he’s willing to pay.” Jimin reaches for his phone and his thumbs type up a storm while you watch from the sideline. 

“I think he mentioned it’s about a month-long project. You’d just have to be on call whenever a stroke of genius arrives.” 

“That sounds great! I’m an amazing model!” you crow, to which Jimin giggles again.

“The several candids I have in my camera roll tell a different story, Y/N.” Naturally, he receives another pillow to the face. But you follow up with a cheery kiss to his cheek as you rejoice in the new opportunity for cash flow by a celebratory dance, which looks more like a wiggle when you remain seated on your bed. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, you chirped, “I owe you one.”

“Hey...I know how you can repay me.”

 When you look towards him, his eyebrows are raised inquisitively and there’s a devilish smirk on his lips.

Jimin gets a third pillow to his face that day. 

◓

Jungkook’s favorite type of arguments to get into is whether Neo-classicism or post-impressionism had the most impact on European art and architecture. Call him a snob, but he loves to prattle on about Degas and Caillebotte until his opponent tires or concedes out of pure exhaustion. Jungkook regards it as a battle strategy: bore your enemy so that they stop fighting. 

He’s in the middle of a heated debate with his classmate from graduate school when he receives a phone call from Park Jimin. Now, Jungkook has no idea how or when Jimin became an installment in his life, or how he’s roped his way into his inner circle. He just remembers waking up one day with a killer hangover and finding that there was a pink-haired stranger lying on his floor. When he tried to shoo him out, the stranger shoved a wad of money in his shirt pocket, muttering “just five more minutes”, and Jungkook was in no position to deny easy cash. Jungkook now considers Jimin one of his close friends. 

“What’s up, Jiminie?” He laughs into the microphone. 

“I told you not to call me that, you brat. I’m older than you.” 

“I’m taller than you.”

“My dick is bigger.”

“I-okay fine you got me there.” He hears Jimin wheeze over the line as he tries to rein himself in to say what he needs to say. 

“In all seriousness, though. I have a proposition for you.” Jimin lilts in a mischievous tone, which makes Jungkook nervous enough to get up from the café table he had been sitting at with his friend and careen to a quieter corner. 

“Shoot.”

“Okay, so you know how you were telling me about your portfolio for the gallery. The one you have to submit by the end of the season? How you needed a model on call 24/7 in case inspiration struck?” 

Jungkook wants him to spit it out because he has been searching high mountains and low valleys for someone that would be willing to be his muse for a month or two. Constantly at his beck and call so he can finish this damn portfolio and get his name out there in the art world. Maybe start debating post-impressionism with the cream of the crop. 

“I think I’ve found someone to do that for you.” Jungkook exhales in relief at his words.

“She’s my roommate and she’s super low on cash and unemployed with a bachelor’s in English literature, so she’s got time to spare.” Perfect. That way, Jungkook can call her whenever he needs to.

“That’s amazing, Jiminie. Can she meet me at the art building tomorrow at noon? We can start right away.” Jungkook breathes through the phone, a small weight coming off his shoulders now that another thing had been accomplished. One less thing he had to worry about on the journey to his goal. Jimin confirms the plans and they exchange pleasantries before Jungkook hangs up as the man on the other line starts screaming about his burning lunch on the stove. 

Jungkook catches sight of the mark on his wrist when he looks down, and quickly rearranges his bracelets so that it is once again covered to his eyes. Out of sight and out of mind. 

The gallery portfolio had been a thorn in his side. It had been months in the making and if he allows himself to reminisce, Jungkook remembers the nights he and Yoojung stayed up until dawn and talked about his blossoming interest in art. How he wanted a space of his own to display his works. Back then, she listened to him with stars in her eyes and basked in the afterglow of post-coital cuddling, promising that she would help him achieve it. 

His heart sinks at the memory of the imprint of her tresses of hair spilling on his bedspread. He burned those sheets the second she left. 

Jungkook represses his intrusive thoughts about Yoojung and wills her to get out of his head. He forces it down until it feels like he’s just dumped ice water over his heart and vomited out any semblance of emotion. He makes his way back to the cafe table with a sly smile that hides the internal ache he’s promised himself to never let anyone suspect of. 

“So what were you saying about Renoir’s Moulin de la Galette?”

◑

The art building is situated besides a library, with a bakery flanking its left. Two years spent at the university, and you’ve never once stepped foot there. Maybe it was the daunting abstract sculpture on the front lawn or the prejudices you held against annoying art snobs on their high horses, but you often found yourself subconsciously avoiding the space in intimidation. 

“Okay, Y/N, you’re going to do this so you can pay off your loans”, you whisper under your breath, words meant for your ears and no one else’s. “And if he asks you to pose nude, you run the opposite direction.” 

It was easy to get lost in the building. For art students that know how to draw, they really took advantage of abstractionism to make the most confusing map you had ever seen in your life. Luckily, with some direction from the vapid front desk secretary and some intuition, you were able to to find room 62B. You don’t think you’ll be able to forget the number 62B if you tried, Jimin had screamed it to you so many times as you left the apartment. 

The door soundlessly opens with a nudge of your hand and you stick your head inside.

“You know when Jimin told me he found me a model, he didn’t mention her lack of punctuality.” His voice is calm and subdued with no lingering annoyance, even if his words are uncourteous. You whip around to him and the first sight you see of Jeon Jungkook is merely a tuft of brown hair behind a vast canvas. And some expensive looking leather boots that anchor his feet to the ground. 

You clear your throat and approach with an outstretched hand and the shiniest smile you can muster. 

“I’m Y/N. Jimin’s roommate. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You can call me Jungkook.”

It is when he steps out from behind the canvas that you finally understand what your mother meant when she said meeting your soulmate feels like getting hit over the head with a ray of sunshine. You can’t describe it any other way, but that’s exactly what it feels like. Like the air becomes so sweet in your lungs it turns to viscous honey. Like suddenly the person standing in front of you is Valentine, encapsulated. 

You know he feels it too, yet you don’t know why he forces himself to remain blasé, and if you hadn’t seen his widened eyes and heard the gasp from his lips you would have never suspected anything at all. Stranger courtesy is abandoned and you forcefully grab his wrist, turning it over to find his mark while pulling up your sleeve to reveal your own. 

A little black crescent moon.

Right on the pulse point.

Just like your’s. 

When you finally muster up the nerve to look into his eyes again, you wonder if it is healthy for the human heart to beat so fast and so thunderously it feels ready to jump out of your chest. Jungkook, however, still wears that same expression on his face. Flat and cold, not even a glimmer in his eyes. He stares at you disinterested and wrenches his wrist from your grasp. 

“Wait, Jungkook...aren’t you….”, you sputter through a desperate smile, “aren’t you happy?” He stays silent and trains his attention on the canvas in front of him, but you can see the conflict that swirls in his iris. 

“I’ve been looking for you for so long! And I’ve finally found you. In the art building no less, just my luck that-”

“Y/N, I don’t know what you expect from me but I’m not looking for anything right now.” 

There were no objectively ugly words. But you think the ones that have just spewed from Jungkook’s lips come pretty close. They stoke a fire in your chest.

“What do you mean? We’re soulmates”, you faltered, sinking deeper into confusion as you stare at the unaffected man in front of you, whose only concern is the conglomerate of paint on his palette. 

Jungkook sighs monotonously. Almost as if he had better things to do than be here.

“It’s only a mark on your wrist. And we just happen to have the same one. Amazing that you still think somehow one single person was made entirely just for you.” His words are bored and he doesn’t even have the decency to look you in the eye when he speaks. You think you might want to punch him if you weren’t so speechless.

“Look”, he sighs as if you were inconveniencing him, “I’m not going to sugarcoat it and tell you that I’m the one you’ve been looking for this whole time. We have the same mark, but...I’m not the guy you want.”

“B-But...I’m your soulmate. We-we’re made for each other.”

Jungkook scoffs harshly, and you want to sink into the ground. “That’s just a silly myth.” 

“So you don’t...believe in soulmates?” The words felt wrong to say when all your life, finding your soulmate felt like the ribbon at the end of the finish line. But here he was now, and you felt so small under his gaze. Like you weren’t meant to be there and standing in the same room with him was a concoction for heartbreak.

“No.”

Jungkook’s syllable pangs in your ear, and you think it might be your least favorite sound. Then you leave. And if it was hard for you to meet your soulmate - the person who you’re destined to be with - who doesn’t believe in you, then walking away from him was a different cross to bear. 

You take the bus home and ignore the glare of strangers when you burst into tears at a red light, and cry the rest of the way back. Your mother hadn’t described this. She prosed on and on about the feeling one gets after finding a soulmate but never mentioned to you how it feels when you find out they want nothing to do with you. What do you do when you realize the person you’ve been chasing for forever has been trying to run away at the same time? 

Jimin holds you together that night on your bedroom floor, while you break apart and scratch at the moon on your wrist until your skin breaks. He listens to the words you sputter; as much as he can decipher when they are drowned out by the painful sound of your sobbing. Jungkook’s beliefs bleed into your consciousness. Perhaps he is right and perhaps there is no such thing as true soulmates, and the marks are obsolete. 

However, when you fall asleep in your friend’s arms from the physical fatigue of violent crying and the sheer mental exhaustion of meeting Jeon Jungkook, your mind comes to a more painful conclusion. 

A more truthful conclusion.

Your soulmate only needed to meet you to decide that he did not want you.

◒

Jungkook doesn’t believe in soulmates. He thinks they’re a stupid coy to give people false hope. An illusion to feign happiness and to take Yoojung away from someone she genuinely loved. Though in the hours of the night, when he is by himself and the bed feels too big for one body, Jungkook wonders if there is truly a reason why someone has an identical moon on their wrist. But he is still so broken and unhealed from the wounds Yoojung left behind.

 So instead of soulmates, he thinks about what she must be doing. If she’s eating well. If she’s moved in with her own soulmate and if they’re happy together. Jungkook is an involuntary masochist and he pays for it with every pillowcase that becomes stained with his tears. 

He sighs out an expletive after downing a shot of whiskey, relishing in the familiar burn as it slides down his throat. Alcohol doesn’t seem to be working efficiently, though. He’s only barely tipsy after years in college building tolerance, and he can still see your face each time he blinks. Like you are imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Jungkook wonders why Jimin had cancelled on the group tonight. 

There is a little devil called remorse and it stands atop his shoulder, unseen by everyone but him, and Jungkook decides he will get rid of it by calling another round of shots. From his seat in the dirty booth, he can see Min Yoongi and his soulmate practically dry humping on the dance floor. If anyone asks him if he ever gets jealous seeing soulmates happy and in love, he’ll laugh in their face and tell them he pities people like that. People that are so blinded by the system. But loneliness is a stern mistress and it makes him think of you. How lovely the moon looks on your wrist. How your hand felt so warm when it caressed against his skin. 

He tips his head back again. Vodka this time.

“Dude, are you okay?” 

To his right comes Kim Taehyung, designated driver extraordinaire, and he looks at Jungkook with friendly concern laced with amusement. Jungkook nods contentedly. 

“Soulmates are so bullshit, Tae”, he snickers, fingers tracing the rim of the shot glass and smirk on his face to mask the bitterness of both the alcohol and his heart. Taehyung spares a knowing glance, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder with the weight of knowledge of Jungkook’s past. 

The night is young and so is he. He drinks until he can no longer taste the liquor and forgets altogether about what had happened only a couple of hours before. Until the crescent mark on his skin just looks like a shapeless black blob, and it makes him smile. He thinks he likes it better that way. 

Taehyung drops him home and personally tucks him into bed while he is still in jeans and his shirt smells like the bar. His sleep is dreamless that night. When the morning comes and his friends tease him about how he begged Taehyung not to leave, Jungkook will laugh and blame the alcohol for his foggy memory. He won’t tell them that he does remember, and that he was only grasping at any warm body to soothe his aching loneliness.

◐

Usually when he first opens his eyes in the morning, Jungkook is thinking about the next class he has to attend and if he is late (which is usually most of the time). This morning, albeit morbidly hungover, Jungkook thinks of the apple strudels they sell at the bakery next to the art building. Mrs. Kim always gets the pastry to filling ratio just right. But when he opens the door with a jubilant smile on his face and the scent of baked goods already in his nostrils, Jungkook has a feeling apple strudels will have to wait. 

There you are. In all your messy-haired glory, huffing like a caged bull in the doorway of his apartment, fiery gaze directed completely at him and all he can think to say is:

“How do you know where I live?” Jungkook schools his face expressionless in your presence. He hopes this will discourage you, but it only makes you angrier. 

“Park Jimin”, you snarl. 

Of fucking course, it’s always Park Jimin. Jimin who drunkenly sleeps in his bedroom and now Jimin who is leaking his address to any stranger.

“Um”, Jungkook stammers and takes a step back, “what are you doing here? Didn’t I get my point through yesterday?” He can see the statement catching you off guard, and the fury in your eyes dwindles to dejection. Only for a millisecond though, before you are aiming your wrath at him once again. 

You take a deep breath. “What is wrong with you?” 

Jungkook can think of a lot of answers to that query. He opts to interpret it as a rhetorical question and keep his mouth shut. 

“You just...found your soulmate! I’m your soulmate! And you don’t even want to get to know me? At all?”, you scream exasperatedly. Jungkook catches the gaze of a middle aged lady who is not-so-discreetly staring at the two of you, and pulls you inside his apartment by your arm. If you weren’t so frustrated, you would have been flustered at the physical contact. 

“Listen. Soulmates don’t end up together all the time. I’ve told you I’m not really interested in anything right now and it’s not a priority”, he takes a breath through his passionate monologue, “and I’m sorry that that’s not something you expected, but I….don’t want a soulmate.”

Maybe...he just doesn’t want you. 

When he says them out loud to a living breathing person, Jungkook realizes how cruel it sounds. He can see it in the way your eyes have become glossy under his living room lights and the way you shrink into yourself as self-defense against his blows. He rationalizes that he’d rather tell you the truth than lie to you now, only to hurt you later. Really, he’s doing you a kindness. Right?

You turn your back to him to gather your thoughts, and wipe the tears that you refuse to let him see. The salty drops sting the raw skin of your wrist after last night, and you are brutally reminded of the current reality. His brutal honesty makes you want to abandon all hope, but you were a woman with a plan. You came here for a reason, not to just lose your temper in your soulmate’s apartment and tell him what you really thought about him.

“I have a proposition for you”, you asserted calmly, staring Jungkook in the eye as he remains unbothered. 

“Now I reckon something’s happened to you to make you lose all your faith in soulmates, so I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Your eyebrows furrow when you speak focusedly.

“We don’t have to be together. That’s your will. But…”, you hesitate, pushing past the uncertainty and fear of another rejection from Jungkook, “will you let me at least try? You don’t have to promise anything. Can we just start as friends?” 

Naturally, Jungkook wants to shoot down your offer, kick you out of his apartment, and pretend like he never met anyone by the name of Y/N. Call it divine intervention but when he looks at you, pleading for any semblance of connection, he feels a tug at his heart strings. So Jungkook makes another promise to himself. He would let you “try”, whatever that entails. But there was no virtual possibility of letting you any closer than necessary. 

You both stand in contemplative silence before he lets out a resigned sigh. “On one condition”, he responds slowly, but there is already a premature grin growing on your face and you don’t think you could stop it even if you tried.

“You still have to be my model for the art portfolio.”

You agree before he even gets to take another breath. 

“Deal.” 

When you finally make your way out of Jungkook’s apartment, parting ways with an awkward number exchange and a ‘see you later’, there is a simultaneous feeling of hope and desolation. The optimism for Jungkook combines with the insecurity that perhaps you, just as you are, is not nearly enough to make someone fall in love. Especially someone who disregards their soul connection to you. 

You walk back to your apartment with a heavy heart that warms with embers of determination. Jeon Jungkook was an enigma. A Bastille fortress of self-defense mechanisms and destructive tendencies, and you know that there is unresolved pain. Call it a soulmate instinct or something, but you see it in his eyes. You see it in the way his face begs to show emotion but his mind refuses to acknowledge. 

You know Jungkook is not obligated to accept you after the dust settles, much less fall in love with you. Under the peach blossoms of the campus sidewalk, you make a promise anyway.  To yourself and to your soulmate and the silly little mark on the inside of your wrist. Even if he does not love you, you vow to help Jungkook learn to love himself.

◓

When you are harshly woken up at 5:30 in the morning, the last person you expected to be blowing up your phone was Jeon Jungkook. If it weren’t for the pure exhaustion seeping through your bones, you would have been excited about your soulmate calling you. Alas, slumber was your soulmate now. Jungkook would have to step down. 

On the other side of the paper thin wall, Jimin is frustratedly banging from his room, your ringtone reverberating throughout the entire apartment. You pick up his call without even opening your eyes.

“Hello?” 

“Y/N I need you to come to my apartment as soon as you can.” There is no sleepiness in his voice. Just clean and cold like it always is and he has hung up before you get the chance to scold him for waking you up at this unholy hour. You’re about to give him a piece of your mind but you remember he is paying you very handsomely for your efforts, and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed to call an uber. Thank god he doesn’t live too far away otherwise you’ll stick a foot through his canvas for the transportation bill. 

The front of Jungkook’s apartment door is strangely therapeutic, and you find yourself falling asleep standing up after you’ve rung the doorbell. Either time passes too slowly when you are sleep-drunk or Jungkook moves to get the door as quickly as your grandfather does. Whatever the case, you are about to pass out on his doorstep if he doesn’t come soon.

“Y/N, why are you just standing there? The door has been open.” 

“Jungkook. Why are you making me do this so early?”, you yawn, pushing inside the apartment. 

Jungkook takes in your discombobulated appearance, and almost wants to laugh. You were still in your pajamas, and the bun on your head now looked more like a heaping blob that drooped down your temple. It was obvious that you had just rolled out of bed and he almost feels bad for disturbing your sleep, but he does not decide when his strokes of inspiration spontaneously appear. 

The living room is bombarded with Jungkook’s art supplies and stray canvases, and you take note of the clay sculpting table that blends in as furniture next to his kitchen. You plop yourself down on the stool across from Jungkook’s easel, eyes still half closed and impossibly tired.

 In this moment, Jungkook wipes the fact that you are his soulmate from his mind. He needs to do the portfolio. That is all he’s keeping you around for, and the only reason he agreed to your plan was so that you would remain his art model. 

In the silence of his makeshift art studio, Jungkook paints whatever comes to his mind, referencing your figure on the stool for the curves he can never get right without a model and need for a human presence to translate onto his canvas. You become more lucid as time goes by and the sun starts to rise from outside his window, sitting up straighter and paying more attention to his concentrated face as Jungkook pours himself into his creation. 

Looking at him in this light, you realize that he is beautiful. And not just because he’s your soulmate. Jungkook’s hair is scruffy and stubbled, undereyes sporting impressive dark circles. But the way he caresses the paintbrush and the way his body moves to the beat of the painting is poetic. He glances at you sporadically, eyes darting to and fro to capture as much as he can before the creativity burns out. He is beautiful and it makes your heart ache to know that he does not want you. In spite of the bond the universe has created. 

You wonder if in his focused hazed, he notices the new glaze across your eyes and the silent sound of your soul calling out for his. You wipe away the first dripping tear as quickly as it came. You know Jungkook sees, but does not bat an eye and you can’t tell if you’d rather prefer him to acknowledge it. 

It’s 8:00am when he puts the paintbrush down, takes a step back, and surveys his work. His eyes trail over each organic line and areas where he decided to use burnishing instead of cross hatching. It’s far from perfect, but it’s enough. 

“Okay. You’re free to go”, he announces, plucking the painting off the easel and resting it against the wall, hidden from your eyes. 

“W-What? That’s it?”, you sigh disappointedly, “you’re not even going to let me see it?” Jungkook shrugs. His detachedness makes you want to rip your hair out and sob into your pillow at the same time. You don’t understand how a person could be so unfazed. 

“S’not ready for debut. Thanks for showing up, though.” He doesn’t spare you another glance. Just goes back to cleaning his brushes and dumping out the glasses of murky paint water. You ignore the twinge of hurt in your chest and slide off the stool. 

“Okay, fine. Now it’s my turn. Would you like to go have some breakfast?”, you smile expectantly to Jungkook, who stares at you with an indifferent gaze. His first instinct is to make up a half-assed excuse to get out of this, eager to detach himself from you as much as possible and avoid any more interaction. However, he was insanely hungry, and the glimmer in your eye just looks so hopeful even Jungkook couldn’t bear to shoot you down.

He sighs with resignation. A little breakfast couldn’t hurt, and he wasn’t going with you necessarily. You were just...going to the same cafe in the same direction as him and likely sitting at the same table. Yeah, that’s it. 

“Hurry up, I’m hungry.” 

“Wait...actually?”

You blinked in shock at his lack of resistance. 

“Yes. Now come on. I know a place with really great apple strudels.”

You weren’t aware that by ‘breakfast’, Jungkook actually meant sitting in complete silence and wolfing down food like your life depends on it. You want to be grossed out when he inhales 3 apple strudels in less than 10 minutes, crumbs flaking on his shirt without a care in the world. Yet you just feel endeared. The sight makes you smile. And maybe if Jungkook did not detest you, you would have leaned over and kissed the cinnamon sugar right off his lips. 

“So….”, you sip on a sweet coffee, “Jimin told me you’re going for a masters in art history?” 

Jungkook nods halfway through a bite of his pastry. “Yup.” 

“Is it something you’re really passionate about?” you inquire, desperately wanting the conversation to delve into something that wasn’t so surface level.

“Uh huh.”

“What are some other things you’re interested in besides art?”

“Totally.” 

Jungkook is completely clueless. He only spares glances to the windows and occasional looks to his oh so precious breakfast treats. You want to slap him and be angry, but you only sigh. It shouldn’t be so hard to talk to your soulmate, yet it felt like trying to pull teeth when he was so completely disinterested in you. You wonder if this is worth it.

You look up at him from your steaming cappuccino cup and use your wildcard. 

“In my opinion, Botticelli’s Birth of Venus did little for the Italian Renaissance movement.” 

Your statement almost has Jungkook falling backwards in his chair and choking on a piece of fruit filling, eyes growing as wide as saucers when he finally processes what you just said. A flaming insult to the entire art historian community. 

“What do you know about Botticelli?”, he sneers, and you internally celebrate for this is the most emotion Jungkook has shown since meeting you. 

“I know that his work supposedly epitomizes the spirit of the Renaissance”, you swirl the coffee in your cup nonchalantly, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “But if you ask me, Bellini’s San Giobbe Altarpiece did much more to encapsulate the values of 15th century Italy.” 

Jungkook’s speechless expression is one that you want to take a snapshot of and frame it to your wall. It is glorious, and arguably more artful to you than Botticelli himself. So what, you had conveniently forgot to mention to him about the class you took junior year of college, with a professor that made you engrave the fundamentals of Italian painting in your brain. It’s so much more gratifying to see him stunned silent. 

Across the table from you, Jungkook feels a warm smile itching to display itself. Before it can appear, he disguises it as a cold smirk. He feels something akin to a butterfly at the pit of his stomach, but blames it on indigestion and the inhuman pace at which he devoured his breakfast. Yeah that must be it. There was no way he was feeling butterflies. 

He cracks his knuckles, raises his cup to gulp down a lukewarm green tea, and rests his elbows on the table separating the both of you.

“I don’t suppose you could tell me your thoughts on the influences of neo-classicism in the 18th century?” 

◑

“No, Y/N, turn to your left a little”, Jungkook frustratedly sighs behind the camera lens.

“Your left or my left?”

He pauses. “....left.” 

To any outside eye, you and Jungkook look like two buffoons trying to take pictures on what might possibly be the windiest day of the season, under the peach blossom trees. Jungkook had called you earlier that day and stressed about how he needed mixed media in his beloved portfolio, and photographs were the next topic of interest. Though you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just set out a fruit bowl on his windowsill and call it still life photography.

Jungkook stares down at his camera, dissatisfaction clear on his face. You almost want to apologize for your abhorrent modeling skills but hey, he was the one that chose you. 

“Hmm...try staring at that boat in the distance”, he dictates, standing beside you and aiming the lens at your side profile. You do as he asks, but don’t hear the shutter of the camera. Jungkook sighs again and leans forward, so close you could feel his warm breath hitting your skin. You hope he doesn’t notice the beet blush on your cheeks.

Jungkook’s hands meet your chin when he uses it to slightly tilt your face downwards. He positions you in the way that he wants you to pose and you finally understand why photography is considered an art. Because it’s almost as if Jungkook is molding you like clay, to get the silhouette he wants to capture with his camera lens. The day is brisk, but his skin on your’s lights you on fire. 

“Okay, that’s…..that’s perfect”, Jungkook breathes, hurriedly picking up the camera that had been hanging onto his neck by the strap and angling it. At the moment his index finger presses down on the button, there is a gust of wind that surrounds the both of you.

The breeze loosens a strand of your hair and it falls into your eyes. You let your eyes drift close for a second, smiling into the cold air that tingles on your skin. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat and he thanks the skies for the howling wind so you wouldn’t be able to hear his thumping heartbeat. But surely it’s only because it’s cold. And absolutely nothing else. Jungkook coughs inconspicuously to snap himself out of his trance, sighing in relief when he realizes your eyes are still closed and that you hadn’t noticed his internal struggle. 

He drags you to a bridge next and makes you lay on the cold wood to which you vehemently object before you remember that he’s paying you and that you want him to fall in love with you, not dislike you more than he already does. After the bridge, Jungkook makes you kneel beside the park pond and dip your hand in the icy water and you find yourself wanting to do the same thing to his precious camera. 

Before the two of you have realized, the sun sets into the horizon and tinges the sky in a combination of purples and pinks that Jungkook himself has a hard time replicating on canvas. He aims his lens at the clouds and takes a picture that he knows won’t make it into his gallery. He just felt the need to have something to remember this day by. For no reason in particular…

A buzzing coming from your coat pocket alerts you both of the time that has passed and how the sky has considerably darkened since you began the session. When you fish your phone out, Jimin’s contact photo is staring back at you while the marimba ringtone continues playing. You put the phone on speaker.

“Hey Jiminie”, you smile and Jungkook catches a glance of it. And the discomfort in his chest is definitely, 100%, not jealousy. Not at all.

“I told you not to call me that! What is with you younger people and your disrespect for the elderly?” The corner of Jungkook’s lips twitch into a subtle smile at the similarity of your’s and his conversations with Jimin. 

“Okay, okay, grandpa. What’s up?”

“Can you come home ASAP? I may or may not have broken the stove trying to make soup.” 

The redundancy of his confession makes you sigh, as Park Jimin desecrating your shared kitchen space was not a rare occurrence by any means. 

“I’ll be right there”, you chided through the line, “please do not cook anything else before I arrive.” 

“Thanks Y/N-ie, you’re the best!” Jimin’s voice is far too cheery and you make a mental note to nag him a little extra when you get home. The phone call is ended promptly and you turn around to Jungkook, eyes widening in surprise when he has already packed up all his photography gear. The sky had turned dark and the streetlights had been turned on to illuminate the park. If you had craned your neck upwards, you would have noticed the stars that awoke again to shine down upon the city. But you didn’t. You only saw the stars that were twinkling in Jungkook’s eyes. 

“Uh”, he stammers, “I’ll walk you home. It’s late.” 

“Oh! Uh...Thanks.” Though he was still cold and indifferent, your heart jumped in elation. Perhaps this could be considered baby steps. 

The trip home is quiet, only the sounds of your tandem footsteps on pavement and the rustle of a breeze through tree leaves fill the space of silence. But the quiet is not uncomfortable. Just a bit awkward as you two try to figure out how to be around one another. Jungkook’s hands are shoved in his pockets and your fingers itch to intertwine themselves around his own. To press your soulmate marks together and feel them calling out to each other. But you and Jungkook are anything but normal soulmates. For you are already head over heels in love with him and he is adamant on not sparing you a crumb of affection. 

To your disdain, the apartment was closer than you thought and the short walk with Jungkook ended before it really even began. You could practically hear Jimin’s impatience emanating from the third story of the building. 

“So I’ll see you later?”, you smile meekly. Jungkook readjusts the strap of his camera bag before nodding. He is walking away before you turn around to enter the apartment building and even though it was something small and mundane, you wished he would have waited to see you get in safely. You make your way inside, more downcast than you had been before.

You don’t see when Jungkook turns around. You don’t feel the reassurance that washes over him when the door shuts safely behind you. 

That night, Jungkook is reminded far too much of Yoojung. When he goes to make his usual chamomile, he finds her mug at the very back of the tea cabinet. She must have forgotten it when she packed up her stuff. When he spoons in the sugar, he remembers how Yoojung drinks her tea with honey instead. And when he feels himself start to fall apart, he remembers how Yoojung is not there to keep him together. 

Jungkook pushes away his pain, abandons the lukewarm mug of tea, and opts for an early bedtime to sleep away the ache. The camera sitting on his nightstand, though, beckons him to look over the photos you both had taken that afternoon. 

In the moment, he had been dissatisfied with the pictures, always thinking there must be a better angle or a better position you could shift into. However when he looks down at his camera now, in the quiet and solemnity of his bedroom, Jungkook can’t help but to think they are absolutely perfect. 

He doesn’t know whether to credit his own artistic skill or you; for breathing life into his photographs. It’s the lines of your hands, the slope of your nose, and the stray strands of your hair that makes his pictures more human. 

The ones he ends up picking though, are not perfectly  staged and not the ones where he made you change the position of your stance for 10 minutes. No, the best pictures were the ones he took without you noticing. When you had just been enjoying the cool breeze or admiring the beauty of peach blossom season. When you point out a cool looking bird and when you stared annoyedly past the cameras lens (at him no doubt). 

Yoojung is gone from his mind for just a tiny fleeting moment. For little reason at all, Jungkook finds himself smiling. And there is only the company of the moon to see it. 

◒

 It is ten o’ clock in the morning and Jungkook comes to a realization that in the couple weeks since he has met you, he has sighed more times than he has in the past 23 years of life. Jungkook sighs when you text him first thing in the morning about the dream you had the night before and describe it in painfully vivid details. He leaves them unanswered. Sometimes he wished you would just email him the google document instead. He sighs when you fidget in your seat when he’s trying to paint and keep focus, but you are only interested in asking him the snacks he has in his fridge or when he’s going to finish. He sighs when you and Jimin collectively trash his art studio by spamming his $1,000 camera with ugly face pictures and sword fighting with his sable paint brushes. Jungkook often has a hard time believing that both of you are in graduate school. 

Today, he sighs when you bombard into room 62B of the art building; what is supposed to be Jungkook’s completely zen and peaceful creative space. You are tiptoeing around him as you always do, scared that you’ll do something to set him off and your soulmate will disown you for good. He glances at you once, eyes quickly darting back to the sculpture he is molding on the clay table and saying nothing. 

“There’s a new cafe that just opened right across from the apple strudel place”, you gulp tensely. “I was gonna go check out the competition.” Your words seem deaf to Jungkook’s ear and he only furrows his eyebrows, fingers fussing over the mass of clay. There was just something he couldn’t get right. He didn’t know what it was. 

Jungkook pushes away the sculpture frustratedly, wipes his hands on his apron, and finally looks at you. Maybe he did need a break and come back to it with fresh eyes. That’s all it was, though. A break. He wasn’t going because you asked him to. 

“They better have blonde roast otherwise you’ll be compensating me for my time.” Jungkook is as ruthless and blunt as ever and you decide to look past it as you always do. Him agreeing to go with you was a mini success. 

“Welcome in! You’ve stopped by at the perfect time. The strawberry scones have just been taken out of the oven!” The cafe employee is far too enthusiastic for receiving minimum wage and greeting grumpy people off the streets who just want to be caffeinated. His name tag reads Jung Hoseok. 

“Oh, strawberry is my favorite”, you whisper, the statement only meant for your ears but Jungkook picks up on it anyway. He declines to tell you that strawberry is his favorite as well. Hoseok’s eyes light up when you and Jungkook approach the entrance, like he finally succeeded at luring a customer. 

The cafe isn’t anything special. A bit more modern compared to the one across the street and you think you prefer the latter because this new one doesn’t have the owner’s handsome son standing at the cash register. He may not be your soulmate, but even you had to admit Kim Seokjin was a beautiful man if there ever was one. However, this cafe is warm and has ceiling length windows that let in an obscene amount of sunlight. Jungkook makes a mental note to try some pictures here in the future. 

Jungkook’s phone buzzes in his pocket and you are already leaving him behind in the dust, walking straight to the counter and peering up at the menu deep in thought. You turn around to see that he is immersed in mysterious conversation, and take it upon yourself to order him a drink. 

“I’ll have a matcha latte. And uh…”, you decide, trailing off as you wonder what kind of drink Jungkook would enjoy. “And an iced vanilla mocha latte, extra whipped cream, extra chocolate syrup. Do you guys have rainbow sprinkles?” 

A little sugar never hurt anyone. Especially someone so often bitter like your one and only soulmate. 

When Jungkook hangs up and makes his way to the corner table where you are situated, the sight of the concoction on the table is enough to give him an instant cavity. You hide your smile behind the mug of matcha. He grumbles and sits down swiftly, sticking the straw past his lips in defiance and you can only watch expectantly. 

“Well…do you like it?” 

This is when Jungkook realizes you didn’t order this to spite him. You just had completely zero idea what he liked and disliked and chose the first thing you thought was best. As cold as he is, he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that when he drinks coffee, he likes it black. No cream, no sugar, and the darkest roast with the most caffeine to push him through those nights spent in front of a canvas or over a clay table. 

Jungkook fights to keep steady from the ambush of sugar and wills himself to swallow it down. There is sticky chocolate syrup on his hands and it feels cosmically more uncomfortable than paint. But Jungkook manages to look up at you and nod, to which you reward with a smile. 

“I knew you would like it”, you say smugly, giving yourself a mental pat on the back. “You look like you have a giant sweet tooth.” There is a mellow giggle that follows your statement. Jungkook feels a flutter at the bottom of his stomach, and convinces himself it’s only because it sounds so much like Yoojung. He catches sight of the moon on your wrist, and pushes the feeling away even farther. 

The two of you spend the rest of the midday there, tucked away in a corner of a cafe and losing track of time as you always do. Jungkook finds himself forgetting about the mountains of work he has to do to finish his art gallery portfolio, and the unfinished sculpture back at the studio that’s just not right. 

Today, he allows himself to enjoy your presence and get to know you more. Your favorite color is yellow. You had a dog named Benny when you were a child. You detest beer with a passion, but enjoy a nightly glass of pinot grigio. Jungkook barely notices when the entire cup of coffee has disappeared. Every last rainbow sprinkle.

On second thought, he feels that maybe there was something sweeter than his unexpectedly delicious iced vanilla mocha latte with extra whipped cream. Maybe that something was sitting right across from him, rambling about the fundamentals of English literature with unexplained vigor. 

Jungkook’s soul feels lighter when he goes to bed that night. And when he finally succumbs to Morpheus, his last lucid thought is of you; sun beams coming from the large cafe windows that comb through your hair. He looks at you through his mind’s eye and all he can see is the potential heartbreak you have the power to put him through. The fan of your eyelashes. The curve of your smile. The plush of your lips. All he can see is Yoojung as she crushes his soul in her bare hands. 

Yet in the midst of his internal conflict, Jungkook’s subconscious allows him to fall in love with you a little bit. Perhaps not love just yet, but affection. Like a toe dip in uncharted waters or sticking his finger in a bowl of creamy cake batter just for a taste. The walls he has built are still there, strong as ever, but perhaps a couple bricks look a bit askew. He doesn’t know, but his soul calls out to your’s through the fortress.

◐

“Y/N I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea.”

“Oh hush, just close your eyes and point where your heart tells you to.”

In the lobby of a train station, facing a map and an ETA board is where you and Jungkook will be embarking on your next “date but not really because you don’t believe in soulmates so let’s just hang out”. It had taken a good two hours of nagging and whining on your part to convince him to abandon his portfolio for just a little bit to go an outing. Now standing here, with you excitedly bouncing next to him and a mystery destination, Jungkook feels something akin to utter regret. 

“What if I choose somewhere that’s a thousand miles away? Or just in the middle of nowhere?”, Jungkook groans, still putting up an unbothered and cold front. 

“Well then we will go somewhere that’s a thousand miles away or in the middle of nowhere”, you quipped back at him. Jungkook had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one. 

He reluctantly places a hand over his eyes, sighing with resignation before pointing to a random spot on the map. There is a giggle that sounds to his left and Jungkook finds himself wanting to hear more. 

“Wonderful choice”, you smiled, “couldn’t have picked it better myself.” 

Jungkook peeked his eyes open one at a time, scared of seeing what his intuition has chosen for your guys’ spontaneous destination. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees that his fingers landed on a town on the outskirts of the city, 20 minutes away from the university. He silently thanks the universe for not sabotaging his wallet and time. 

“We’re never doing this again, Y/N”, Jungkook speaks as you are in front of him, skipping happily to the front desk to buy two train tickets. 

“Wasn’t it fun, though? The thrill?”, you chuckle at his demeanor, to which he only shakes his head vehemently. You note the newest thing you’ve just learned about Jungkook: he has an aversion to uncertainty and spontaneity. 

The train ride was as brief as it was uneventful. You spent the time rambling to Jungkook about all the quips and quirks about yourself and he only listened. Though he kept quiet, his face was free of any annoyance or indication that you were speaking too much. Jungkook only stared at you and unknowing to you, he soaked in every bit of information like a sponge. If anyone asked, he could tell them what foods you were allergic to, what colors wash you out, and what vegetables you hated the most. 

“Wow you didn’t have to pick somewhere so far away, Jungkook.” You muse as the two of you step out of the train car. So far away in fact, that if you were to crane your head up enough, you would be able to see the university from a distance. 

“Hey, you were the one who made me choose”, Jungkook spares a rare smile, “Would you rather we have shelled out our wallets to go on an 18-hour train ride?”

“Okay, fair point.”

The city was as abundant as it was big, and the both of you walked aimlessly from avenue to avenue, stopping occasionally whenever you see a dog you just can’t help but to pet or whenever Jungkook complained about his sore feet. As cold and indifferent as Jungkook made himself out to be, you’ve quickly come to realize that he’s actually a big baby. He still hasn’t let you in or even lowered his walls by a tiny centimeter, but you like to think that even agreeing to go anywhere with you could be considered significant progress.

Jungkook doesn’t notice the pounding of his heart whenever his hands graze against your’s, walking side by side so close he can feel the heat emanating through your coat. He doesn’t notice the peace he feels, just the synchronicity of his feet as he places them on the pavement. 

The fraught wind that blows straight at Jungkook’s face prompts him to look up from where his eyes were cast on the ground. He almost staggers at how strong it is, but finds himself weak in the knees for a completely different reason.

Of course.

Of all the days, of all the times, of all the people in this entire city.

Of course she had to be the one that was currently staring at him from across the intersection. 

The red light seems to go on forever. Either that or time has just spontaneously frozen, Jungkook can’t tell. But his eyes are fixed on hers and his feet bolster him to the concrete when all he wants to do is sprint the other way and forget he ever saw this ghost from the past. 

Yoojung looks as beautiful as the day she left him. 

She’s gained some weight and her cheeks have filled out, but it looks healthy on her now (Jungkook always chided her for forgetting to eat). She stares at him with a combination of shock and guilt and something he wants to overthink into affection but he won’t give himself that satisfaction anymore. She dyed her hair. Light brown looks good on her. 

She looks...happy. As happy as anyone can look when they’re rushing through thick crowds of a city, traffic horns blaring like a dilapidated symphony. 

In the heat of it all, it’s impossible for you not to notice Jungkook’s sudden change in demeanor or the way he has suddenly stopped breathing. When you follow his gaze, there is a girl on the other side of the street that shares the same starstruck expression and even from the outside looking in, you can feel the weight of something painful in his eyes. In her stature. 

When the lights turn green, the throngs of city dwellers migrate across and you stay beside Jungkook when he doesn’t move a muscle. Not even a finger twitch. But she does. And he can only fight to keep the ache away when Yoojung gets closer with every millisecond. Until she is standing right in front of him and he can smell her familiar vanilla perfume. 

“Jungkook”, she speaks, apprehension in her voice. “It’s been a while...how are you?” 

Yoojung only spares you a side glance while keeping attention on Jungkook and you only grow more curious as to who this strange woman is. 

He wants to speak so badly but his tongue remains frozen. He turns to you with flabbergast in his eyes and shakes his head to snap out of the daze of confusion. Of seeing the love of his life again. Or who he thought was the love of his life. 

“Could you give us a minute, Y/N?” 

You didn’t know why but the words that came from his lips made you feel disappointed. Perhaps you were just stupid for thinking he would introduce you. Tell her that you’re his soulmate and scream it at the top of his lungs with sheer pride. But your imagination has hurt you countless times and you had a feeling this one wouldn’t be the last. You manage a curt nod and push away the twinge in your heart. There was a boundary between you and Jungkook and today was not the day to cross it and introduce yourself as his soulmate to any random stranger. 

Once you are out of vicinity and have found solace in a bookstore 10 feet away, Jungkook allows himself to breathe in Yoojung’s presence. 

“I didn’t know if you were still in the city”, he falters, voice coming out quieter than he would have liked it to. But what was he supposed to sound like confronting the supposed love of his life. 

“I never left, Jungkook...my entire life is here.” She sighs, smiling lightly with eyes seeping with guilt. 

He scoffs. “I don’t know Yoojung, you seem to leave behind important things pretty easily.” Jungkook feels himself getting angrier and resentful by the second, and though he knows it is unfair of him, Yoojung’s mere presence brings back all the wounds he never truly healed from. 

Granted, on a concrete sidewalk next to a traffic light pole was not the best place to have a heart to heart about failed relationships. But when has the universe ever given Jungkook the best things in life. He is devastatingly cynical for someone who dedicates his career to art. 

Yoojung wears a frown on her face, but there is no vindictiveness there. Just an overwhelming sense of remorse that Jungkook communicates as pity. 

“I don’t know how else to say that I’m sorry”, she sighs, eyes falling to the ground. Jungkook wishes it would just open up and swallow him whole. 

“Then don’t say anything.” He turns to walk away.

“Wait! Jungkook can we...can’t we catch up or something? For a couple minutes?” Yoojung is visibly desperate, and her hands are outstretched as if wanting to touch him but keeping herself from overstepping the line. 

Jungkook glances through the window of the bookstore, and you are situated on a chair, already nose deep in a hefty book. He wants to smile and tease you for being such a nerd, but the weight of Yoojung’s presence makes him reinforce those walls of indifference tenfold. 

He exhales frustration and inhales temptation, looking back into Yoojung’s familiar eyes and nodding. Jungkook walks to a nearby bench and sits down with no words exchanged, looking forward coldly even when he feels her warmth next to him. A couple months ago, Jungkook would have set all his canvases on fire to feel her beside him again. Now, he’s not so sure.

“So…”, she starts, “who’s that cute girl you were with?” 

“No one.” He shoots out a little too soon with no hesitation. Yoojung gulps.

“You know Jungkook, it’s okay to find someone. I-I know I hurt you, but I’m glad if you’ve found someone who doesn’t.” Jungkook doesn’t say anything so she continues.

“I’m really happy for-”

“I never really forgave you Yoojung.” He stares blankly at the passersby and tries to ignore the ache in his bones. The one that’s been there the day she left and took a piece of his heart with her. 

“And I don’t want to blame you for my decisions but I want you to know that I push away a lot of people because of you. People that don’t deserve it.” From the corner of his eye, he can see her nod solemnly to his words and fidget with her hands in her lap. Part of him feels guilty for unloading on Yoojung. Part of him feels like maybe he deserves to. 

“What you did was really shitty. Astronomically fucking shitty. And I’ve spent the past eternity hating you and maybe I still do, but…”, Jungkook takes a deep breath, “I want to forgive you now. If not fully, then partially. I hope you can understand that.” He finally tilts his head to look at her and though the smile on her face is as beautiful as he remembers it to be, Jungkook no longer feels the longing. No longer feels the sting that he usually does when his thoughts take him back to the years they spent together. 

Jungkook doesn’t want to call it closure, not yet anyway. Sitting here on the bench, he still wants to scream and yell and tell Yoojung of all the nights he’s spent alone since she left. He still wants to drag her back and wonder if she could love him again like she used to. 

But he doesn’t. He listens when she tells him about her new job and her new apartment right by the lakeside. They share snippets of their separate lives. Just deep enough to rekindle something warm but shallow enough to not invite anything else in. 

When he walks away from the bench and into the bookstore, Jungkook stills feels the walls that he has built around himself. He is still scared of opening up and being vulnerable but the anger held for Yoojung for so long is no longer a raging fire. More so a wickering flame. 

When he spots you, though, he remembers why he built those walls in the first place. He remembers how easy it used to be for him to climb a high peak and fall to his demise. Your eyes widen when you catch sight of him, lips curling into a wide smile and clear excitement in your expression. The book in your hands is tossed aside and tunnel vision reserved for him and him only. Something blooms in his chest and he can’t remember the last time someone’s been so elated to just simply see him...aside from his dog. Jungkook reminds himself to act uncaring. If he pretends long enough, he’ll start to believe it himself. 

◓

The train ride home feels longer than the one there. The minutes drag by and perhaps it is because of your drooping eyes or the way Jungkook is looking at you with a different tenderness than he has been before. His stare is not harsh. It’s soft and sweet, but subtle enough for you to wonder if you are just imagining it. The night has always been unforgiving and cold even in the spring, but perhaps all that’s needed to breathe some warmth, is a 15 minute train ride and a wrist with a crescent moon.

Yet every time you become more smitten with Jungkook, there is a harsh reminder that follows you everywhere like a designated storm cloud. 

Jungkook does not love you. And you are trying and you will continue to try but his eyes tell you something he is too courteous to say. You see it now as he sits across from you and admires the skyline from the window. It makes you wonder if it is soulmates he doesn’t believe in, or if it is just you that he can’t bring himself to accept. With every cold glance and wall that he puts up, you start to convince yourself that it is the latter.

“We’re here, Y/N”, Jungkook speaks quietly, interrupting your drifting thoughts. He turns around and leaves the train car with hands tucked in his coat pocket. Did you expect him to escort you out and hold your hand? Of course not. But you were tired of Jungkook being so indifferent to your existence. 

You follow him glumly out the doors that slide close after you step through. Then it zips off again and you wonder where it would have taken you if you just stayed in your seat. If Jungkook would have even noticed that you hadn’t followed him when he left. 

You sigh into the night air and wish it was winter so that your breath could be visible as a white cloud. Maybe then Jungkook would notice that you were a living being beside him. 

“Who was that girl that we met back there?”, you murmur hesitantly. Jungkook nearly chokes on air. 

“No one”, he responds curtly, effectively cutting off the conversation then and there. It makes your heart sink. She must be important and all you want to do is know every single detail about their relationship, but the look in his eyes warn you to not pry. 

You don’t think you can forget the way Jungkook looked at her from across the street. Like he had been lost this whole time and she was the North star. You saw the way his eyes twinkled in the midday sun and sparkled even more when she came closer. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to have that effect on him. 

“Hey, next time you should pick a place you and I both do not live in”, you giggle, nudging his shoulder with your own. It makes him smile and even though your heart feels heavy in your chest, Jungkook looks so beautiful when he smiles. 

The two pair of feet subconsciously carry you both to the front door of your apartment building and the scene is too familiar from the last time. You expect him to turn around and whisper a hushed goodnight under his breath, and you’ll have to watch the back of his head disappear down the street. But he doesn’t. Just stands across from you quietly and waits for you to say something. So you do. 

“Jungkook, I’m sorry if I brought up something you didn’t want to remember. I don’t really know your story but it seems you two have a lot of history.” You want to tell him how hard it is for you to be his soulmate when he is so clearly vying for the warmth of someone else. Someone who didn’t have a crescent moon on her wrist. 

“I know you’ll tell me whenever you’re ready, and if that’s never then I’ll keep waiting until forever. But I’m here if you want to talk or unload and I already know I can help because…” you fidget with your hands and look around nervously. 

“Well, because I’m your soulmate.” 

When you say it loud and explicitly, Jungkook thought the statement would have made him recoil. But it doesn’t. It just seeps through his consciousness and feels warm when he thinks about the weight of those words. You are his soulmate, regardless of if he believes in such a thing or not. You carry the same mark as he does on your wrist and somehow, by some intangible factor, the universe had decided that you were created for him and he for you. 

And when he looks at you. Really looks at you. When Jungkook processes your sincere words and how you manage to deal with his insurmountable boundaries even when you barely know him…

Jungkook has never wanted to kiss you more. 

So he does. 

Your lips taste like mint chewing gum and the ghost of words you wish to tell him but can’t. He feels you stiffen until you completely melt in his hold, and Jungkook cradles your face with both his hands, pulling you closer to him until there is no barrier between you but the clothes on your back and the emotional distance. You feel so far away even when you’re this near. Was it a trick of your imagination when you felt the moon on your wrist tingling? 

It doesn’t last as long as you would’ve liked it to. Jungkook yanks his hands from you like your skin scalded him and takes several steps back. His chest rises up and down violently when his breath comes out ragged, posture stiffening as the gravity of what just happened finally absorbs. You’re there, he knows you’re there and standing in front of him. So why is it he can only see Yoojung. Yoojung and the star on her wrist and apologies on her lips. Yoojung and the tears in her eyes when she walks away. 

You can only stare confusedly when his body goes rigid, and a sudden coldness envelops you both. 

And in the haze of post-embrace, like any two normal lovers, you catch something in his eyes that sets a heavy feeling in your stomach. Before you can confirm if it’s just a trick of the light, Jungkook is already running in the opposite direction and you can only see a shadow of sullen love that follows him. He is gone and you are standing alone, wondering how moonlight could feel so cold even on a spring night. 

You don’t get any sleep that night. Every time you close your eyes, there is only the sight of Jungkook’s disgust and regret to lull you to dreams. 

20 minutes away from your apartment, there is a boy who doesn’t sleep either. He won’t text or call to tell you that he can’t shake off the feeling of your skin on his and your breath fanning his cheek. He won’t admit to himself that tonight, when he looked at you, he felt the possibility of falling in love. He won’t tell you that the moon on his skin longs to be traced by your hands. No, he just shares those secrets with his pillow as its linen soaks up his tears. 

In the midst of it all, there is one verdict that becomes clear to him.

Jungkook wishes he had never told Jimin he needed a muse.

◑

The next three weeks is dedicated to trying to get in touch with your soulmate. Through the whirlwinds of utter confusion and desperation, you try texting, calling, emailing, even showing up at his art studio and apartment to no avail. It seemed he had a talent for avoiding soulmates. 

It hurt, to say the least. That he left you high and dry after giving you the most intense

kiss of your life and doesn’t even have the decency to let you know he’s alive. The feeling of his lips still burns on your skin and you wonder if you are a complete fool for being so smitten with a person who, quite possibly, hasn’t spared you a single thought after that night. You just want - no you just need some clarity. 

Jungkook makes you wait another week before replying. 

It is an impossibly sunny day when you wake up. Your neck is stiff from sleeping like a contortionist and your heart aches even more than your muscles with every passing morning with radio silence from your soulmate. You want to call him and tell him you’re sorry. That you’ll forget anything ever happened. It hurts to even think about it, but for Jungkook, you would go through a little more pain so he would let you into his life. 

Outside the hall, Jimin is singing along to a familiar melody of a song you don’t know the name of and judging by the aroma that wafts through the cracks of your door, he has successfully made a pot of coffee. He has been an anchor throughout this whole thing, and sometimes you make a secret wish to the stars that Jimin had been the one with a crescent moon on his wrist instead. Perhaps that way, you wouldn’t have to go through the agony of chasing love that is constantly sprinting away from you. 

Your phone lays on the bedside table and buzzes innocently to start the morning. When you reach over and scroll through notifications routinely, there is a name there that makes your heart pang. Makes you want to throw up and celebrate at the same time. A text from Jungkook. Your fingers shake as you open it. 

I no longer need a model for the portfolio. Thank you for your involvement. Compensation will be provided promptly. 

The day you met him, you already knew that Jungkook was cold. He never dawdled around a painful truth or toed the line between bluntness and sparing feelings. Jungkook spoke his mind, collateral damage be damned. But this is a different type of cold. This one feels more like dry ice on warm skin. Like the numbing chill of a fading hope. Like winter’s first snowfall when autumn had promised you it would forever stay. 

Phone in your hand and tears threatening to drip down your cheeks, you wish you would have waited a bit more before opening his text. Perhaps that way you could have spent the rest of your morning basking in the spring sun, drinking Jimin’s inevitably bad coffee, having hope that Jeon Jungkook would grow to care for you. Perhaps if you hadn’t opened it so soon, your soulmate would still seem in reach. 

Jimin’s mug nearly drops out of his hand when the door of your bedroom is slammed open. He flings it to the side when he notices your red-rimmed eyes and the shaking hands that clutch onto a cellphone. You scream and sob at the universe, at anyone, asking why it was you that had to experience the chaos of longing. Jimin was there to hold you, as he always is, and helplessly listen to the sound of your heart breaking once again by the hands of Jungkook.

◒

Room 62B of the art building is a place you hope to never have to visit again. Though it’s walls contain memories of you and Jungkook, and the evenings navigating his gallery portfolio along with your convoluted relationship, the wallpaper bleeds with a longing ache. A yearning pain. And if those walls could talk, you don’t think you would want them to say anything at all. They would only murmur what you are slowly accepting to be true.

Jungkook, your soulmate, wants nothing to do with you. 

When you hesitantly rap on the door with a fisted hand, the sound of him rustling from inside makes you want to run the opposite direction. It opens before you get the chance to change your mind and the sight of him nearly takes your breath away. He is beautiful as he always is, hair ruffled and mussed from undoubtedly running his hands through it compulsively. His lips are pink from biting on them and the dark circles under his eyes tells you of the dreams he has deprived himself of. 

Jungkook is painfully gorgeous and painfully not yours. 

“Y/N...I sent you a text earlier.” His voice is saccharine but the words taste so bitter. 

“I know. I read it”, you murmur, shrinking in on yourself. 

“I....Can we talk, Jungkook?” 

His eyes dart around nervously at your question, chewing on his bottom lip and tapping the toe of his shoe as if he was impatient and you were bothering him. And you have known that simply being around Jungkook hurts but the light at the end of the tunnel only continues dwindling. 

You understand why he is acting so restless when your gaze drifts past him and into the room. There is a girl perched on a stool, across from a canvas and easel that you know awfully well. You don’t recognize her but it’s only in your nature to begin comparing every aspect of yourself to this stranger. She sits on her hands and swings her legs back and forth, head in the clouds and eyes trailing the ceiling. She isn’t aware of the weight of her presence in the studio, nor the turmoil she has brought to you, who is standing just outside the door. 

The oxygen in the hallway thins and the breath you’ve been waiting to release since knocking catches in your throat. Coming here, you prepared yourself for a long and inevitably heart-wrenching talk with your soulmate. But you hadn’t prepared for the possibility that he had replaced you overnight. 

The only thought that blares through your mind is that this is your fault. For letting yourself think you were worth more to Jeon Jungkook than any other stranger. You can no longer find it in yourself to be angry at him. Just yourself. 

“You…”, you gulp down a whimper, “you replaced me.” 

Jungkook follows your vacant stare past him and sighs, realizing you had most likely deducted what this scene looked like. You would be right. Between the weeks of trying to understand what you were to him and the impending due date of the portfolio, Jungkook was sure the best way to move past this confusion was to just speed full steam ahead. That meant finding another muse. You were no longer an option.

You only stare down at the floor, but Jungkook begins speaking anyway. 

“Y/N, I…I’m sorry.” You scoff at his words, feigning anger when inside, you truly didn’t know if you could piece yourself back together this time. 

“Look, Y/N. It’s not you. It’s just that…”, he breathes deep, not knowing why it was so hard to say. “I’ve stopped believing soulmates were truly a thing a long time ago. I’m sorry.” 

It’s not the first time you’ve heard these words but it doesn’t mean they hurt any less.

“I didn’t want to initiate anything, Y/N, but you did and I let you and that was my fault to let anything start. I shouldn’t have when I knew nothing would come of it.”

It was a fault to him. It never should have happened. 

“So you just thought you would kiss me and decide that I meant nothing to you afterwards?”

“It was a mistake.” It was painful to think it but when you hear Jungkook say it, you experience a new kind of ache. A humorless chuckle bubbles past your throat.

 “I really thought you would grow to love me. Now I know it’s not your fault that I’m a complete fool. To fall head over heels for my soulmate who wishes he had never even met me. Much less share a mark.” 

You can see Jungkook’s eyes widen at your confession, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It was the truth. He deserved to hear it. 

“You shouldn’t. You can’t.” He reaches up to pull at his hair frustratedly.

“Can’t what, Jungkook? Love you? You think I want to be in love with someone who wishes I didn’t exist?” You hate your voice for breaking, but its impossibly painful when he does nothing to deny your statement. 

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? What can I say to make this better?”

Try: I love you too.

“I don’t need you to say anything you don’t mean, Jungkook.” 

“Then shouldn’t you leave?”

Jeon Jungkook is cruel even when he doesn’t mean to be. There is oblivion in his gaze, and his question is one of genuine curiosity. But it still stabs you exactly where your heart is most tender. Yes, I should have left. 

“I guess I thought you were worth the pain, Jungkook. When you pushed me away and wanted nothing to do with me, I thought you were worth hurting for just to try a little more. Worth the uncertainty of being around you but never getting to actually be with you”, you numbly mutter, uncaring about the rivulets of tears down your face. Not like it wasn’t something he’s never seen before. There is more to come on the tip of your tongue, and Jungkook stays quiet to let you speak. There is conflict in his vision, but you don’t want to give yourself the false hope that he cares for you. 

Look where that has gotten you before. 

“You still are, you know. Worth it.” You release a shaky breath. “But I was stupid to think that I am too.”

Saying the words are revelation for you as much as it is for him. All this time, you’ve been running away from the truth in the pursuit of your soulmate. You hadn’t realized that the chase led you astray. 

“And I know that loving me is not easy. I’m…”, you force the words out so he can at least hear your turmoil by his hands. “I’m never really good enough for anyone. Why did I expect that I would be good enough for you?” 

Jungkook’s expression crumples into a frown. “Y/N, no, that’s not what I mean-”

“You don’t have to tell me what you mean, Jungkook. I meet you and the first thing you say is that you don’t believe in such a thing. I try to get close to you and all you know to do is push me away. And I try so hard to be enough but how can I when Yoojung still has your heart? So you don’t have to say it. I know what you mean.” You’ve stopped crying but the ache relents, and you can only look desperately at the boy who’s slipping from your grasp with every passing second. 

“I’m sorry.” The message is redundant.

“I can’t…” Rip off the bandaid. 

“I just can’t love you.”

The words make their way past his lips before he can stop them, and they shoot through your core ruthlessly. A sharpened dagger to soft flesh. It manifests itself in a physical pain that reverberates across your chest, and when the last strength left in you is used to stare at Jungkook through a pained and teary gaze, you are deaf to everything but those four words.

I can’t love you.

I can’t love you. 

I can’t love you. 

You’re not sure what he is sorry for at this point. If Jungkook is apologizing for not loving you, you don’t blame him. If he is sorry for entertaining the possibility, you don’t blame him. If he is sorry that you are the one with a crescent moon on your wrist, well...you don’t blame him either. All your life you cherished it like some kind of gift from the universe. Now, nursing your crumbling soul in front of Jungkook, you wish it had never appeared in the first place. 

You shake your head, tucking your lip in between your teeth to stop the sob in your chest from escaping. Through the crack of the door Jungkook hadn’t shut fully, the girl was still there, patiently sitting where you were supposed to and making herself scarce after inevitably hearing you bare your heart to a boy who had no interest in it. 

Humiliation goes hand in hand with heartbreak, and the embarrassment that comes with confessing your love and insecurity urges your feet to run home. But even you cannot deprive yourself of looking at him one more time. 

His wavy head of hair. The scar on his cheekbone that makes him look even more beautiful, if that were possible. The gloss in his dark brown eyes, and the way he looks at you through stone cold walls. You commit it to memory, however painful, before you walk out of his life. 

“Be happy, Jungkook.” 

You truly mean it. 

◐

 The sound of your footsteps getting farther away from him is a sound Jungkook thinks he’ll remember for a long time. It almost prompts him to run after you, cradle you to his chest, and profess how sorry he is again and again until you can truly feel the sincerity. But he doesn’t. Only remains behind the self-procured walls and watches when your figure disappears down the hallway. 

Cold. Unbothered. Indifferent. That’s what he had always told himself when it came to you. But the hallway feels so lonely and the ghost of your presence feels even lonelier, and Jungkook wonders if he had been wrong. 

He walks back into the studio, permanent frown on his face and shoulders hunched over in stress. The paintbrush feels like a stranger rather than an extension of his arm, as it always does, but Jungkook begins painting anyway. Looking at the girl in front of him, he is reminded of the look on your face when you realized he had replaced you completely in the span of three weeks, without even giving you a notice. Her presence in his art studio suddenly feels entirely suffocating. 

“Mina, Get out.” 

“What?”

“Get out of my studio. I don’t need you as a model, anymore. Thanks.” His voice cut through the tension of the room, like a hot knife to butter. He recognizes it as the voice he always forces himself to use around you, and grows even more aggravated. 

The girl scoffs annoyedly, snatching her handbag from the floor and rushing out of the room. Obviously she had thought something more was to come from Jungkook’s art arrangement. He made sure to let her know that was not the case. 

There is a gnawing in his chest. Deep and subtle, but it becomes more prominent as the window view from his studio turns from blue to black. He ponders about spending the night in here, instead of going home to his bedroom where he is forced to consult with the agony of solitude. On top of everything today, Jungkook doesn’t think he can handle that. 

Every time he closes his eyes, he sees the pain in your face when he tells you that he can’t love you and he hears the shaking in your voice when you tell him the things that weighed on your soul. He thought the word “wither” was only reserved for flowers. Jungkook didn’t realize a person could wither until he saw it right in front of him. 

In truth, he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he could love you or not. And to Jungkook, that was already a feat in itself. He’s spent so many months convincing himself that his emotional fortress was impregnable. So many nights over whiskey bottles telling himself that love was only for fools and pretenders. To be uncertain about love, now, well...that’s something he is not yet ready to admit to himself. Much less admit to you. But letting you any closer was a fatal game. 

Being uncertain about love means being uncertain about getting hurt. Jungkook has a feeling he wouldn’t make it out in one piece if his heart fell into wrong hands. 

He does end up returning to his apartment that night. But the walk feels far too long and the air feels far too frigid, or perhaps is it because he can’t hear the tread of your footsteps beside him? 

Whatever the reason, tonight feels more lonely.

The stars tell him it’s because he does not like the person he’s alone with. 

Back in room 62B, there is an abandoned painting on a rickety easel. He hadn’t even had the will to wash out his paintbrush, and he’s sure he’ll pay for it the next day. Looking at the piece now, his professor would tell him that there’s too many colors. Too much contrast and nearly not enough depth in his strokes. But what was he to do when he had kicked out his new model and couldn’t get the image of your visible heartbreak out of his brain? 

A familiar wrist with a quaint crescent moon sits on the canvas, and he sure as hell didn’t use Mina as the inspiration. Jungkook reminds himself to throw out the painting tomorrow morning. 

◓

The grease on Jimin’s skillet pan is always so hard to clean. The dish soap never truly cuts through the oil, and no matter how much you rinse it over with scalding water, it still feels soiled. On a normal day, it wouldn’t frustrate you so much. Today, a month-and-a-half after your soulmate made it clear to you that you had no place in his life, you want to throw the pan out the window and cry on the kitchen floor until it collapses with the weight of your tears. 

You settle for throwing down the sponge and making Jimin wash his own dishes.

The phone-that you usually now tend to ignore-buzzes on the counter, and you groan at your complete lack of desire to answer it. But the screen lights up with your roommate’s name and you hit the green button. 

“Y/N! How are you feeling, lovebug?” Jimin’s cheerful tone on speakerphone makes you want to cry. You can only imagine how terrible it is for him to be your roommate when all you know how to do now is mope and cry about a boy who probably hasn’t thought about you since. But he’s been holding you through all your breakdowns, and even sets up the air mattress on the floor of your bedroom when some nights are a little bit harder than most. 

“I’ve had better days”, you glare at the pan in the sink. “What’s up?’

“So I have a friend…”

“Jimin, no.” 

He sighs over the phone understandingly, but still not satisfied. “I know it’s only been a month Y/N, but it doesn’t have to be anything. He’s not looking for anything serious either. But maybe it would be good for you to take your mind off things.” 

It’s been a month. Four weeks. Roughly 31 days, and you still remember every word he said to you in the hallway of the art building. Every pause and quiver of his breath, and the way he looked so completely indifferent to your pain. Was one month enough for you to let go even after finding out Jungkook never planned to hold on in the first place?

“Look, you don’t have to decide now. I’m sorry for pushing you if you’re not ready.” His mumbling is apologetic and it makes you realize that Jimin genuinely means well. Maybe you weren’t ready to move on from Jungkook yet. Maybe you never will be. He was your damn soulmate, after all. But maybe a distraction couldn’t hurt.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I’ll do it.” 

You can practically feel him smiling like an idiot over the phone. “Really?!” You sigh into the speaker and Jimin knows better to continue talking before you change your mind.

“His name is Namjoon, he works with me at the office. Super cute. Super hot. Super smart. Checks all your boxes!”, he rambles on about the nitty gritty details and though a part you is proud that you’re making the decision to move on with life, you can’t help but to realize that no one will ever be able to “check all your boxes”.

Not if they’re not Jungkook. 

“He sounds great, Jimin.” Anyone can tell your happiness is disingenuous, even through the phone. Jimin tells you that he had already planned a date (without your knowledge), and sends you on your way with a quick goodbye when his taxi arrives. The silence of the apartment after the conversation leaves you feeling even more weighted, but hopeful for the possibility of a distraction. You had a feeling you won’t be able to forget the likes of Jeon Jungkook if you tried. But, if only for a night, you were to forget the pain of loving him, you’ll take that chance. 

◑

“What do you mean they all ‘feel the same’?” Jungkook is exasperated. He had drafted a complete version of his portfolio, working through the nights by the sweat of his brow. Now his professor was telling him that all his pieces felt the same and Jungkook thinks he might commit arson to the art studio.

Professor Sejin sighs contemplatively, taking off his glasses and throwing them on the table, all too familiar with Jungkook’s periodic art tantrums. 

“I mean that your pieces lack any variegation. The portfolio is well done and coherent, but the completed package is one-noted. It’s consistent. But too much so.”

Professor Sejin’s words make him fall back into the chair dejectedly, shoulders slumped and disappointment in his eyes at the critique of his art. Though it is hard to hear, Jungkook always welcomes productive criticism. The older man sympathizes with his downcast eyes and the visible stress on his back. 

“Look, Jungkook”, he affirms sincerely, “you just need to find some dynamic. Something to make people know that you can do more than one tone of art.” It’s obvious that the professor has a soft spot for the boy in front of him, who looks like his entire world is collapsing. The portfolio folder is handed back to him and Jungkook has the urge to burn it and not hear the word “gallery” again in the next decade. 

“I have faith in you. You’ll figure out what it is that you’re missing.” The smile on the man’s face is congenial. Genuine. And even though he has an ambitious amount of work to do, Jungkook finds the will to nod, haul himself off the office chair, and begin the trek back to his studio. 

The pinnacle of spring is approaching and the sun shines brighter with each morning. Not that he would know or care. He’s spent the last month locking himself inside, dedicating every fluid ounce of energy towards completing his project. It’s been surprisingly easier, and Jungkook finds himself finishing paintings, sketches, and sculptures with ease. Like untapped inspiration had revealed itself to him suddenly. Yet it still wasn’t enough...at least not according to Professor Sejin. 

Headphones drown out the cacophony of hustlers and bustlers with the laughter of children as accompaniment. He doesn’t allow himself to enjoy the music of the city. Not anymore. It gives him too much space to think, and Jungkook has a feeling that’s not good for anyone and definitely not good for him. 

The sight of a familiar bakery with particularly delicious apple strudels is enough to stop him in his rush, feet winding down until he is standing outside, staring at the door and wondering if he could go in without being reminded of you. Well, it might be too late for that anyhow, but further signs of protest are halted when he hears his growling stomach. 

Jungkook had morbidly underestimated your presence in the memory of his favorite cafe. You are everywhere. He sees your smiling face when he looks up at the chalkboard menu, soul vying for you to be next to him and excitedly choosing a new fru-fru drink that would undoubtedly have excessive sugar. He hears your giggles ruminating through the cafe while the other patrons only hear the music over loudspeaker. He practically feels you near, but that doesn’t matter now. It’s better this way. No one gets hurt this way. 

Jungkook plops himself at a corner table and buries his face in his hands, fingertips soothing over his pulsing eyebags and wrinkles he’s gotten from sleep deprivation. He desperately needs an espresso shot. Or five. 

“Hey…”, a voice makes him snap his head up. Jungkook recognizes the stranger as the owner’s son, who always stands guard at the cash register. The tag on his lapel reads Kim Seokjin, and Jungkook has a distant memory of you gushing over how nice Seokjin’s hair was. He had acted unbothered back then, but Jungkook would die before telling a soul that he was annoyed and jealous when you thought the cashier was cute. 

“Jungkook, right?”. He has a kind smile and a natural air of invitation. Jungkook nods. 

“I’ve seen you around a lot. Where’s that girl you always come here with?”

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business”, he nearly hisses, antsy at the mere mention of you. He instantly regrets it though. Seokjin looks like he’s been cornered with a blunt weapon, and it makes Jungkook sigh at his own asshole-ishness. 

“I’m sorry”, he mumbles, “just not a good day. At all.” 

There is a pause and hesitation before the boy speaks. “Do you...wanna talk about it?” Seokjin’s question is met with silence. 

There is a predictability about Jeon Jungkook. He doesn’t open himself up to anyone. He pretends that he doesn’t have problems so well, people start to become convinced. He avoids new connections like it’s the plague. But there is something so idiosyncratic about Kim Seokjin that makes him want to talk. Makes him want to trust a complete stranger. 

So Jungkook nods, depositing his black backpack besides him and lets himself breathe deep. 

“Her name is Y/N….”

In the lukewarm air of the café, Jungkook tells Seokjin about you. About the tiny crescent moon on your wrist that identically matches his - even unwraps his cloth to show it - and how he pushed you away hard enough to put an ocean’s worth of distance between the two of you. He tells Seokjin about Yoojung and the stars on her skin that have been plaguing him since the day she left. He tells him about that damn portfolio that refuses to be finished; one that he apparently has to start over because Professor goddamn Sejin says it's too boring. He allows himself to unload, and wow is it easier to breathe when you talk about your feelings. Jungkook reminds himself to do that more often. 

The “conversation” seems to stretch for hours (if a conversation can be considered one person unleashing all their hidden baggage on the other while they sit in silence). Jin listens intently through the entire ordeal, offering occasional nods and encouragement for him to continue. When Jungkook finally finishes with a deep breath, falling back on the chair looking completely worn out, Jin fixes him with a hot tea before speaking.

“The portfolio is important to you, Jungkook. If it’s important to you, you’ll find a way. Something tells me that you’re not one to give up so easily”, he quips with a playful lilt in his voice. Jin’s genuine faith in him makes Jungkook believe in himself.

“And as for Yoojung, well, I can’t speak on your pain. You are the only one that narrates your experiences but as much as she seems like a villain in your story, perhaps she has opened a door.” Jungkook thinks his voice sounds far too wise to be coming from a guy in his 20’s.

“Would you have known how to nurse a broken heart had it not been for her? I’m sorry she did that to you, Jungkook, but..Yoojung is your past. And I see so much in your future.” 

Jungkook only stares into the abyss of his tea cup. The reflection that stares back is someone he desperately wants to learn to love. When he looks up again, there is a sad glimmer in Seokjin’s gaze. Something so despondent that he feels second-hand pain. 

Jin pulls up the sleeve of his knit sweater. On his wrist sits a faded marigold, so blanched it almost blends in with his skin and makes him wonder if it will just disappear one day. Jungkook feels his blood run cold.

“It’s been two years since she died”, he stares solemnly at his skin, “I don’t think a day has gone by that I haven’t thought about her.” 

Jungkook’s thought about his soulmate mark disappearing before. Even hoped and prayed for it the days after Yoojung left. But now, when he sees it up close on Seokjin’s wrist, Jungkook doesn’t want to wish that loneliness upon anyone. 

“She was so damn...persistent”, Jin laughs, fondness dripping in every word. “Like your Y/N in that way, I suppose. She had a goal and was hell-bent on achieving it. She was so kind and strong and much more of a badass than I could ever be. I loved that about her.” There is sorrow in his voice when he uses the past tense, and Jungkook feels even worse for pouring his heart out about his very alive soulmate. 

“She was studying to be a doctor, you know? Ironic that even the best doctors couldn’t have saved her in the end.” His sentence trails off and he loses focus gazing out the window, fidgeting with the ring on his left hand with a faraway look in his eyes. 

“I don’t mean to ramble about my dead soulmate for no reason, Jungkook. And I’m in no position to tell you what you should or should not do regarding Y/N. But if I could restart this life with my soulmate, there wouldn’t be one second I would waste not at her side.” Jin’s tone is not accusatory or convicting. Just honest.

“It’s normal to be scared and apprehensive. Hell, I would be more concerned if you weren’t going into it with a shit ton of skepticism. I was terrified. Yet out of the billions of people that could’ve had my mark on their wrist, just knowing that she was that one was enough for me to love her.”

The cup of tea has long gone cold. Jungkook only manages to stare at the mahogany table, thoughts too heavy to voice aloud, so Jin continues. 

“I think I would give anything to know that such a person still exists for me. Someone out there that was chosen by an unknown, cosmic force for an unexplainable reason just for me. To see a mark that matches my own. Well…”, Jin breathes deeply, tears welling in his eyes but not falling, “I think that must be the most wonderful thing in the entire world.”

◒

Seokjin’s words stick with him long after he has departed from the café. Long after the tea has settled in his stomach along with the weight of what a soulmate means to this stranger whose life story he has learned in the course of an evening. 

Even so, Jungkook’s not sure what he should feel. The fear of vulnerability still feels like a designated thundercloud above his head, and the thought of letting you past his walls makes Jungkook want to run the other way.

At the same time, the trepidation doesn’t feel so heavy anymore. It’s still there, and he can’t pinpoint exactly what happened but when he sees your smiling face behind his eyelids, Jungkook doesn’t feel scared. When he focuses on what you look like under sunlight, or your eyes staring at him through a camera lens, there is no fear of the broken heart you could leave him with. Just something warm. Something that feels an awful lot like...love?

 But what does Jungkook know about such things? 

He shrugs it off his shoulders, and readies himself for a night of inevitably restless sleep. He blames it on the impending due date of his beloved portfolio, but really, it is you. You and your insistence on trying every single coffee shop in the city. You and your convoluted idea of a date; letting your partner choose the location with their eyes closed. You and…

Just everything about you. 

He falls asleep well into 4am. The thin strap of cloth sits on his bedside table. Even if it is only for the night sky to see, Jungkook lets his soulmate mark breathe. 

◐

It’s been so long since you’ve dressed up or cleaned up to go out anywhere, the reflection that stares back feels like a stranger. You’ve opted for a bold red lip, meticulously applying your makeup so that even the wing of your eyeliner was sharp enough to kill. Jimin forced you to curl your hair too, of course. The girl in the mirror looks beautiful. You know that she is beautiful.

So why is it that you can only see the face that is not enough for Jeon Jungkook? A person that he is unable to love. No, not even foundation can cover the face of longing.

“Y/N”, Jimin sing-songs, “hurry! You don’t wanna be late do you?” No, you don’t want to be late. You want to not go. Maybe retreat to your bedroom and cry the night away again. But you won’t tell him that when he is so clearly ecstatic that you’re spending a night out for the first time in months. 

The restaurant looks like it is entirely out of your budget. Well, you reckon any restaurant is out of your budget with all the debt that looms overhead and your painfully apparent unemployment. Waiting for Namjoon is less than exhilarating, and you spend the time fiddling with your bracelet that conveniently covers the crescent moon. These days, you can’t bear to look at it anymore. Your eyes are glued to the little mark, before a voice sounds from across the table.

“Sorry I’m late, traffic was insane. You must be Y/N, nice to meet you.” You weren’t sure what you expected Kim Namjoon to look like but were pleasantly surprised. Namjoon looks like he takes care of himself, neat and clean and sporting a very shiny watch that looks like 4 months’ worth of rent. 

“And you must be Namjoon. Likewise.” 

When he pulls out the chair to sit down, you can’t help but to notice the cloud on his wrist. It was smaller than yours but you had no doubt it felt just as heavy. If Namjoon felt your gaze on his skin, he did nothing to show it. 

“Hey, I know I just got here but…”, he sighs and takes a look around the room, “do you wanna get out of here? Find the cheapest and greasiest food we can?” His request makes you smile, and you grab the purse that rested on the table. 

“Namjoon, I think that’s the best idea you’ve had yet.” 

You and Namjoon manage to find a diner that wasn’t far from the fancy restaurant, and you thank the skies that you didn’t have to pay $50 for a salad tonight. Just some pocket change for quite possibly the best and oiliest hamburger you’ve ever had. 

By conversation that happens through mouthfuls of food and faces smeared with milkshake residue, you come to learn that Namjoon is an unsurprisingly nice guy. He studies poetry, but is working as a secretary at an office, hence his connection to Jimin. He loves to garden and talks about his bonsai plants to you like they’re his kids, even pulling up pictures on his phone and gazing down at them fondly. It makes you smile. He plays the piano, and likes to take long bike rides when the weather permits. 

It’s nice to have someone reciprocate your effort. It’s something you haven’t experienced in a long time, all credit to one Jeon Jungkook. Namjoon is warm in all the corners where Jungkook is cold. 

In a word, he is pretty damn perfect. And if he had a crescent moon on his wrist, you probably wouldn’t bat an eye or have a lick of doubt in the universe. He encompasses everything you want, so alike you in so many aspects it makes you wary. If Namjoon had your matching soulmate mark, you would already be in love with him. 

But he doesn’t. And that thought alone keeps you from feeling anything but platonicity. He is not Jungkook. You don’t think anyone can make you feel the way Jungkook does. You want to curse the stars for making this so. 

It’s well into the night, and you both remain planted in the diner booth, chatting and chuckling over a plate of french fries. It’s when you drift off while he’s talking about his latest attempt at focaccia that Namjoon sighs and sits back in the seat. 

“What?”, you confusedly ask after he suddenly stops speaking.

He smiles. Stays silent for a couple seconds. Then speaks. 

“So what did your soulmate do to you?”

His question catches you off guard and you can only stare at him, frown on your face and words lost on your tongue. 

“You’ve been staring into space every 5 minutes this whole night, and fidgeting with your bracelet so much I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen off”, he explains, tenderness and sympathy in his tone. 

“Every time I speak, you have this sad look in your eyes and I have a feeling you’re imagining someone else’s face, Y/N. I’ve enjoyed talking to you...a lot. But I can tell you want to be somewhere else so”, Namjoon places his elbows on the table and gazes at you endearingly, “tell me about your soulmate.” 

You stare at Namjoon through shocked eyes, glistening with the onset of tears that you manage to keep from escaping. Gosh, you were pathetic. Already wanting to cry at the mere mention of him. Or maybe the fact that someone could see through your facade. You take a deep breath. 

“His name is Jeon Jungkook.” Your voice quivers, and Namjoon continues listening intently. You are reluctant to continue because you know that once this conversation begins, there is a chance you might have to confront yourself again with the pain of loving someone who doesn’t want love. You internally apologize to Namjoon in advance, for you might cry on this first date. 

“I…I’m completely head over heels in love with him  but after everything, I’m not sure I have the slightest clue what love is. Because what sane person can fall in love with a person who has made it clear that that love wouldn’t be reciprocated from the get go?”

You fiddle with the plastic straw in your milkshake, searching for the courage to go on and tell him about every thought that you have denied yourself the satisfaction of verbalizing. 

“He loves apple strudels, you know. Eats them every time like they’re the last apple strudels he’ll ever have and he doesn’t give a damn who’s watching”, you chuckle, gaze drifting off to space. There is a fondness in your eyes as you speak, and Namjoon does not miss it. 

“He’s as punctual as the day is long. One time I was late to a photoshoot and he almost made me cry lecturing me about the importance of being on time. But now I’m never late.” 

The memory makes you, as well as Namjoon, smile. 

“He paints like his life depends on it, and he’ll get oil paint on his face without noticing and sometimes I just want to reach out and wipe it off. But I think he’d murder me on the spot.”

“How come?”, Namjoon offers his first words in the midst of your monologue. You’re not sure what to say next. 

“Well...I think Jeon Jungkook might be the coldest person I’ve ever met”, you dejectedly sigh. Reality tastes bitter even with remnants of whipped cream on your lips. 

“Every time I was around him, it felt like I was willingly breaking my own heart just for the chance to know that he was next to me. That in this entire world of billions of people, the one with the same moon on their wrist was next to me. And...I guess I didn’t really need him to love me yet”, your gaze locks onto Namjoon and you find he is already staring at you with utmost curiosity and subtle pity. 

“Jungkook alone was enough. I just wish he could have felt the same about me.” 

Perhaps the reason why the truth is so painful to speak is because people have a tendency to run from it. Then when it catches up to you, it’s a harsh trip and fall to the rocky ground. There is no cushion when you land. 

Namjoon doesn’t offer advice. Doesn’t dish his own experiences to relate to your own or even make any comments from his perspective. He just sits and listens in silence, but it doesn’t feel like he is disregarding you. No, his eyes tell you that he soaks in every word. You hope you’ll get the chance to do the same for him...if he ever decides to share his story with you. 

The two of you leave the diner with a prospective to be friends, and no plans of a future second date. You had a strong feeling that spending the entire evening talking about your unrequited soulmate love had something to do with that. Nevertheless, though Namjoon didn’t work out as a distraction, you were glad to have met him. It made you realize something.

Even if Jimin thought you were ready to move on. Even if you thought you were ready to forget. It might be a lifetime before you finally let go of that boy.

◓

The morning reeks of rain and dew, humidity nearly clawing its way through his window and turning his apartment into a swamp. When he wakes up, it is not to his blaring alarm clock, but the uncomfortable sensation of a sweaty shirt sticking to his back. Jungkook groans, already tired of this day. It seems hopeless from the beginning. 

As much as he wanted to stay home and crank up the air conditioner so much that his landlord would come running, Professor Sejin’s voice reverberates through his eardrums.

You art is too one-noted, Jungkook.

Be better, Jungkook.

You’re talentless and will never succeed, Jungkook. 

Of course, these are not Professor Sejin’s verbatim, more so Jungkook’s own mind that twists his teacher’s constructive criticism into something else. He is a master at feeding his insecurity.

Jungkook chugs down a lukewarm cup of black coffee, and his stomach growls for something with a little more sugar and maybe a dash of rainbow colored sprinkles. He guesses he has you to thank for that. The art studio is always a daily destination, and this day is no different. Jungkook has a plan to dedicate himself to fixing his portfolio and maybe finish that clay piece he never got around to. 

The studio is too cold for his liking; Jungkook can’t remember how many times he has begged the superintendent to lower the AC. The cold he can deal with. The loneliness, however, is a different story. Jungkook is always alone. Alone when he’s in his apartment. Alone when he’s in class. Alone when he’s in the art room. These days, aloneness feels more haunting when he knows he had the option to escape it, but chose to stay. A part of him is ready to admit that it’s because of you. 

Jungkook hums a random melody that had been stuck in his head since the morning, fingers gliding over the slick sculpting clay. The days are easier now. He doesn’t think about you so much when the sun is out and there is the bustling of the busy city to distract him. The nights, however, are just as difficult as they have been. Jungkook’s last drifting thought is of you, and your face torturously carries over to each dream. Like his entire being misses you but he refuses to accept it. 

He takes a deep sigh in relief once the sculpture feels finished. Professor Sejin wanted something more dynamic, so there: his very own realist clay piece drawing inspiration from Praxiteles’ sculpture of Aphrodite. He sits back in pride, admiring his own handiwork and giving himself a mental pat on the back. It looks great. Perfect even. It looks….

It looks like you. 

Jungkook pales at the realization as the clay face stares back at him. No, this was supposed to be Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and love, inspired by the ancient Greek artist that sculpted her. Then why does she have your nose? Those eyes are definitely your’s and even those cheeks are identical. Jungkook hadn’t even realized that in the rhythm of his art, he got lost and accidentally sculpted your face instead. 

He walks away from the clay table and hurriedly yanks off the soiled apron around his waist, confusion swimming in every cell of his body. How had he just...made a sculpture of you? With no knowledge that he was doing it?

Jungkook leans with his back against the sink, staring down at the floor with furrowed brows and a thundering heart. With a sudden epiphany, Jungkook leaps from his position and pulls out all the canvases, printed photographs, graphite drawings, and clay pieces he’s made for the past few months. Everything he can grab in the small studio space. 

It is then that he comes to the daunting realization:

Holy shit.

Professor Sejin was right.

 Everything feels the same. His whole portfolio has one note and no dynamic or diversity because...well, because all of his pieces are of you. Not you, necessarily, but your breath has come alive on his art in some way, shape, or form. 

The multimedia painting he made two weeks ago using polystyrene sheets was supposed to mimic sunlight through a stained glass window, but Jungkook hadn’t even noticed he'd drawn the window of the café you dragged him to on its opening day. And the colors of the glass is just the twinkle of your eyes when they stare back into his. 

The photoset he spent hours taking around the city, after taking a 15 minute train ride, were just repeats of all the places you two went to that one day. The book store. The park. The streetlight where Yoojung stopped him. He hadn’t even realized he only saved the photos associated with a subconscious memory of you. 

Jungkook can’t explain it, but he feels you in every single picture. Every piece of art that his hands have manifested since you walked into his life, stupid smile on your face and that little moon on your wrist. He feels it...and call it artist’s intuition or something but perhaps that’s why Professor Sejin could feel it too. 

Even though he stopped making you his muse months ago, you are still the root of inspiration for whatever he’s produced since. And if that’s not enough to finally tell him what he needs to hear. Finally make him realize that he’s fallen in love with you without even knowing it, the universe doesn’t know what will. 

The minutes it has been since he realized your place in his life melts like slow dripping honey, feeling like an eternity when it is mere moments. Jungkook regains his focus in the haze. He knows what you mean to him now, but there was something he had to fo first. 

He swipes all his paintbrushes and palette knives to the side, sweat on his brow as he furiously rearranges his portfolio. He takes out the pictures of Mina - no one would miss them anyway - and trashes all the photos he took before he met you. He only uses the art he’s created post-Y/N and tucks them in the manila folder so rapidly, there’s paper cuts on his fingers. But he doesn’t feel them. Jungkook has only one objective. 

He snaps a picture of the new clay sculpture he’s just finished. The photo goes into the portfolio with the name ‘Aphrodite’, but Jungkook knows better about whose face that truly belongs to. Not that anyone would bat an eye. He thinks you are as beautiful as the goddess herself. 

The trip to Professor Sejin’s office is short, unsurprising though, since Jungkook sprints the whole way there. When he arrives, and the professor can only stare as he’s bent over and huffing violently trying to catch his breath, Jungkook reminds himself to spend less time at the studio and more time on the cardio. 

He throws the portfolio onto the man’s desk unceremoniously, nearly collapsing on the chair across from him and not ready to speak yet. Professor Sejin confusedly rifles through the folder quickly, too quickly, and sighs, ready to offer Jungkook yet the same critique again. 

He opens his mouth, but Jungkook cuts him off. 

“Before you say anything…”, he gulps, finally ready to admit the truth to himself. 

“I want you to know that I’ve met my soulmate, a-and there’s a reason why you feel that my portfolio is all the same. There’s a reason why you feel it’s all one-noted or that there’s no progression.” Jungkook takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, and you are there behind his lids. 

“It’s because she sowed the seeds for all of them. Everything. Those paintings and photos and sculptures are just symptoms of what I’ve been feeling this whole time after meeting her. She’s practically the artist, not me.” Professor Sejin stays silent at his monologue, gaze unreadable but eyes sharp and trained solely on Jungkook. 

“Maybe...Maybe art doesn’t need to be super variegated all the time. Maybe it’s supposed to be a cohesive unit and the pieces should string to each other. Maybe paintings should have a relationship to photos and them, to sculptures. Maybe you’re just...wrong.” 

He is exasperated and passion flows out of him through every pore. Jungkook looks expectantly at his professor, who has the open folder in his hand and still in the process of taking in his words. When the adrenaline starts to fade, he realizes that he just dissed his venerable teacher. 

“With all due respect…”, he coughs, “sir.” 

Professor Sejin lets Jungkook spend the next couple minutes in complete torturous silence so that he can finish reviewing his portfolio. The tension is cut with the sound of the man’s hands slapping together as he closes the folder. Jungkook prepares himself for a stern lecture.

However, when he looks up, there is a smile on the man’s face. There’s no malice there, or even disdain. He pulls off his glasses, sets them on the table, and sits back in the office chair, arms folded over his chest. Jungkook can feel his heart threatening to pound past his rib cage. 

“Jungkook…”, Professor Sejin declares, “I think you’ve got a contender for the gallery spot.” 

◑

If someone had asked you what Jeon Jungkook meant to you, you would look them in the eye and tell them that he meant nothing. Because it’s easier to pretend that someone does not mean anything to you after they pretend that you do not exist. That the universe had not given you both matching marks and deemed that your souls were meant for each other. Jeon Jungkook is a stranger to you. One that you wanted so badly to love. But you’ve come to learn that no matter how hard you try; you can’t love someone who doesn’t want to love at all.

So the days trickle by as they usually do. Painstakingly slow and viscous with memories of a boy named Jeon Jungkook and the way he has hurt you enough to last a little bit over forever. 

“I understand why you don’t want to go, Y/N. But aren’t you the least bit curious? Especially after that fancy invitation in the mail?” Jimin’s query is innocent. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t make your blood boil. 

“I don’t know...the thought of going to my soulmate’s grand art gallery when the last time we spoke, he told me he can’t love me, just doesn’t seem appealing Jimin”, you snark, burying your face into the bowl of cereal you are now spooning far too aggressively. 

“But...it’s been months. And he wouldn’t have sent you an invitation if he didn’t want you to come.” 

This conversation has happened too frequently since that red envelope arrived at your apartment. You cried your eyes out when you opened it, both out of pride for Jungkook and the fact that no matter what you did, the universe found a way to keep you from moving on. 

A sigh heaves through your chest, and the cereal is abandoned by your loss of appetite. “I’m not going to show up there and have him tell me again all of the reasons he can’t be with me. I barely survived it last time.” 

“But what if, Y/N?”

There is a glimmer in Jimin’s eye and he radiates so much hopefulness for you, you can’t help but to feel it too. 

“Isn’t the what if already enough? You used to tell me that Jungkook was worth anything. Isn’t he worth the risk this time too?”

You don’t have anything else to say after that because as much as you hate to admit, perhaps Jimin is right. Jungkook is worth going through anything for, even if he wants to stay as far away as possible. Call it a fluke in the postal system that the invitation to his gallery landed on your doorstep, but can you allow yourself to read between the lines and dare say that he sent it himself? Can you put yourself through such a perilous thing like optimism?

Jungkook has left you battered and broken for the past months. But you would give your heart to him to break all over again if he asked. 

◒

To say that you did not fit in with those dawdling around the art gallery was a gross understatement. You didn’t just not fit in. Your entire presence and aura defied every expectation, and suddenly, watching the upper echelon of the city mingle with champagne and gaze critically at Jungkook’s art, makes every breath feel like an insecurity. 

The boy in question was nowhere in sight, and you now regret not dragging Jimin with you. The invitation had specifically prohibited plus one’s, and though Jimin whined to no end about his hurt feelings and emptily promised never to talk to Jungkook again, you managed to keep him home. Now, you wish you were back at the apartment with him.

The pieces were, in short, completely breathtaking (to no surprise, of course, this was Jungkook you were talking about). Though you knew he always held doubt in himself, in the short time he allowed you to be in his life, you had never once thought he was anything less than spectacular. Yet you could not allow yourself to completely enjoy them. Each brushstroke and paint color you remember from his palettes, or the filters on the photos that you helped him with, was agonizing to look at. 

You are standing in front of a canvas titled “Windowlight” when a man comes up beside you. He nurses a flute of bubbly champagne and makes no move to gain eye contact. Unknown to you, Professor Sejin knows exactly who you are. He’s seen your face in his student’s portfolio one too many times. 

“Artful use of mixed media, isn’t it?”, he mutters.

“I suppose so.” 

“He’s quite the prodigy. Have you met him yet? I’m sure he’s lurking around somewhere.” The man takes a sip from his glass, smirk on his lips hidden from your eyes that still blankly stare ahead.

“Yes. He’s a...friend.” We share a soulmate mark. He hates my guts. 

He hums a sound of affirmation and you ignore the weird feeling it leaves in your stomach; one that tells you this stranger sees right through you. 

“Ah, how rude of me. Professor Sejin. Arts director and senior advisor.” He spares you a brief glance, but you make no move to shake his hand or pretend to be courteous. You don’t have the energy for it tonight. Just being in this building, surrounded by everything Jungkook has touched, makes you want to collapse into yourself. 

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” He speaks nonchalantly, and you almost miss the fact that you never told him your name. Your brows crease in confusion and you are ready to turn and interrogate the stranger, but he is already walking away, gliding smoothly across the gallery. Before he gets too far, though, Sejin cranes his neck and makes eye contact. 

“Oh, and be sure to visit the one called ‘Moon’. It’s upstairs, next to the Aphrodite sculpture on the second level exhibit”, he entreats, a suspicious lilt in his voice.

“Something tells me you’ll appreciate its…sincerity.”

Honestly, you’re not sure what you expected when you came to Jungkook’s art gallery tonight. But to be approached by a stranger who already knows your name, who dubiously instructs you to seek out a mystery art piece, was not on the list of expectations. Still...Professor Sejin’s words made you curious. 

Through the night, your eyes subconsciously seek out that familiar head of fluffy brown hair and a tall gait that always seems to stick out, even in a large crowd. It was as if Jungkook versed himself in complete camouflage, so much so that you began to doubt that he was even in the building.  

The traipse through the gallery is done in silence and solitude, and you tune out the sounds of popping champagne and raucous laughter coming from the second floor, as the patrons undoubtedly banter over which piece to auction off. You hope he keeps them. You’ve never seen someone appreciate art the way that Jungkook does. 

You catch sight of a few pieces that you recognize, ones that you remember him showing you when he had finished. You always excitedly told him every single one was a masterpiece, and Jungkook only rolled his eyes and made minimal effort at hiding the blush on his cheeks. Your steps falter when you come across a set of photographs in black and white, set in consecutive frames next to each other and it feels so warm despite the lack of color. Jungkook just had that special talent when it came to photography. 

It’s the bookstore. In the city during the impromptu train ride you had coerced him to take. Your heart catches in your throat as you recognize all the other ones immediately because well...you’ve been to all those spots. A familiar pressure builds in the back of your eyes, and you swallow down a whimper of pain. 

The urge to leave becomes too strong. But not strong enough to quell the slow burn of curiosity from Professor Sejin. There is a chance that you might not run into Jungkook at all tonight with the vast space and people bumbling through the corridors. It hurts to think that you might never see him again at all, but you’ll allow yourself another indulgence. Something is calling you. 

Moon. He titled it Moon? You grip onto your wrist reflexively and run your thumb over the mark, like you did when you were younger and still had hope for soulmates. The pulsepoint there beats under your finger and lets you know how alive you are. Compels you to give into your curiosity, even if it might decimate your already crumbling heart. The stairs that lead up to the second floor are short, but the trek feels like it knocks the wind out of you, or perhaps that was just the anticipation of what was waiting for you on the other side.

You were right to be scared. Because right in the smack dab center of the circular room is where you see it, and your gasp is one that can be heard from each wall and corner. 

A painting of you. A portrait from the waist up, with oil paint and so much detail, Jungkook has even managed to line the shallow wrinkles by your eyes when you smile. You have never considered yourself beautiful in any sense but the way he has captured you on canvas starts to make you believe that you truly are. You feel Jungkook in each streak of the brushstroke where he hadn’t spread the color evenly. It is as if the painting is alive, and though you are staring at yourself, it doesn’t feel like the way it does in the mirror. Doesn’t feel like a reflection. 

No, this feels like looking through Jungkook’s eyes. It is what he sees in you, rather than what you see in yourself. And what he sees is beautiful. Through the haze of shock and confusion as to why he chose this as the centerpiece, you don’t notice the warm presence that lurks behind you. The one that has watched your every move since you walked into this building. 

“Yeah, that’s my favorite one too.” 

You whip your head around so quick it nearly gives you whiplash, but the sight of him is the nail in the coffin. Jungkook is cleaned up in a black suit, and an unfamiliar smile on his lips he rarely lets you see. A genuine one that he’s tried to hide so many times but now that it’s clear and up close, you resent him for keeping it from you. 

Jungkook is just as gorgeous as the day you lost him. 

But looking at him hurts. You don’t know why you’re even here, and why he sent the invitation, or why he was standing in front of you now and there is not a sliver of antipathy in his eyes. You don’t know why your face is plastered in the center of the gallery. Most of all, you don’t know why you are still weak in the knees for Jeon Jungkook. 

“Although, I have to say, it was a close race between this one and the pictures I made you take at the lake, when you nearly dunked me in the river because it was so cold”, he breathily laughs but you aren’t able to get through the shock just yet. If Jungkook notices your starstruck state, he doesn’t let it affect him. 

“And I definitely have to give some credit to the one I painted after you told me about your dream”, Jungkook prattles on, “where you were a mermaid who planted peaches under the sea, remember? That’s an honorable mention.” 

These memories make you want to smile but in this moment, the best you can do is try to hold yourself together when your eyes begin to warm with tears. Jungkook stays silent when you do. He notices you haven’t said a word and your gaze refuses to meet his. 

“Why are you doing this, Jungkook?”, you curse yourself when your voice cracks. “Why are you telling me these things? Haven’t you hurt me enough?” Jungkook’s smile drops off his face, and for once, you can see your own pain reflected in his eyes. 

He takes a deep breath, hands hanging limply at his side that itch to wrap themselves around yours. To feel your skin. Feel your mark. 

“I…”, he hesitates in his words, “I remember that day every night when I go to sleep, Y/N. Every time I shut my eyes, I just see your face when I told you I can’t love you, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt such aching before. Not even when she left me.” Jungkook’s voice is tinted with desperation but it just makes your walls rise higher. 

He’s lying to you. Your tongue wants to protest, but he continues. 

“I see you in everything”, Jungkook breathes out, like he is also admitting it to himself. 

“The paintbrushes I can never put down to the black coffee I force myself to drink nowadays because the ones I actually like, the ones with too much whipped cream and vanilla syrup, just reminds me of you.” His brows are knitted, and his feet vie to step closer to your quivering form. But you look like a caged animal about to bolt at any moment. 

“And when I’m reminded of you, I am reminded of…”, he gulps down the fear, “I’m reminded of how I am utterly in love with someone who deserves so much more than what I have put them through.”

The blood that runs through your veins drops to subzero temperatures, and you swear in the split millisecond that you have absorbed what he’s just said, your heart ceases its beating. The world stops turning, and the waves still for a brief moment. You can’t find any words just yet, but Jungkook can see straight through you and your stupefied expression. 

“Y-you’re lying to me, Jungkook. Stop lying.” 

“I’m not lying, please…” Jungkook knows he’s losing you by the second, but he’s promised you he would persist. He just wants you to listen. Wants you to feel how sorry he is, and how his soul screams to be next to your’s. 

“I can’t explain how it happened. Like it was an epiphany. Like someone has been screaming at me and I had been ignoring them, and that someone was my own heart.” Jungkook doesn’t stumble over his words once. He does not stutter because it is the plain white truth. 

“Stop, Jungkook.”

“It’s been knocking on the door of my chest and when I finally let it in, it just yells and shouts ‘oh my god, you’re in love’ and then I realized oh my god, i’m in love. In between painting you and convincing myself that soulmates meant nothing to me, I’ve completely and unquestionably fallen in love with you, Y/N.” 

Jungkook can’t decipher the look on your face. Something between the lines of disbelief and heartbreak, and it makes him want to split at the seams at the pain he’s put you through. How he’s convinced you you’re impossible to love. He vows to make it right again.

“Jungkook-”

“And you’re wrong, you know. You’re not hard to love. Hell, I was dead set on never loving again and you managed to make me so smitten, I can’t paint or draw a damn thing without including some aspect of you in it.” Jungkook steps back and gestures to all the canvases and photos that hang on the wall. 

“Take a look around, Y/N. It’s all you. Every piece.” Once he says it, you finally notice Every piece of art in this room can be traced to you, or a memory you two share. It’s so clear, you don’t know how you missed it before. You feel yourself in the art Jungkook has poured his soul into. Instead of making you feel elated, these words that you’ve been waiting your entire life to hear just ignites the sting. 

“Just stop. Please.” It is only a weak whisper through your lips, and he ignores it. 

“If you can’t forgive me, I get it Y/N. I can’t forgive myself either. But can you just know that you are enough. You are more than what I deserve. And I know you told me to be happy, but there is no way I can possibly do that without you.” 

When your gaze falls to the floor, you notice that his wrist is clean of any bracelets or watches. Come to think of it, this is one of the first times you are seeing it clear and in the flesh. Jungkook doesn’t tell you, but nowadays, he doesn’t allow anything to impede on the sight of the crescent moon.

When your guard is down and you are distracted, he finds the perfect time to finally reach forward and take your hand in his. His touch is gentle when it wraps around your wrist, tugging off the ribbon that circled it, and revealing the matching mark. Your pulse jumps under his fingers, and skips a beat when he runs a thumb over the moon. You are already melting with such simple contact, and you almost allow yourself to succumb. Almost.

It’s as if suddenly his skin was scalding, and you snatch your wrist from his grasp at lightning speed. The tears that have strayed down your face are wiped away as quickly as they came. The surprise on his face is missed by your eyes because before he can comprehend what is happening, you are bolting down the staircase and out the glass doors of the gallery. No, you cannot forgive him yet. What would you do if he hurt you again? You don’t think you would survive. 

You ignore the pain of seeing his art pieces as you run, now that you know you are the muse behind them all. The only noise is the sound of blood rushing in your ears, and you are oblivious to the racket of Jungkook’s shoes clapping against marble flooring as he chases after you, expertly dodging the other patrons and butlers holding trays of champagne. 

And Jungkook? Well, he is oblivious to the complete turmoil that runs through your every nerve. He only sees your back, and not the way you bite your lip painfully to keep the sobs from escaping. Not the way your pain is exhibited clear as day in the crease of your eyebrow and the wrinkle of your nose. 

The air outside is so cold it bites at your nostrils, but makes it easier to breathe. The wind calms the thundering heart in your chest.

He must be lying. There was no way he had a change of heart now, not when he was so rooted in his belief before. There is no virtual possibility, on any plane of existence, on any dimension where Jeon Jungkook has fallen in love with you. 

Right?

The hand that circles around your wrist tightly to keep you from getting any farther tells you that you are wrong. He did come after you. Jungkook’s strength forces you to stop running, but you can’t find the courage to turn around and face him just yet. But you don’t make an effort to pull away, and he takes it as progress.

“You can run if you want, Y/N. You can walk away from me and from us, but don’t doubt that I’ll always be chasing after you. For as long as it takes.” He is panting and speaking through heavy breaths, but you hear him. Loud and clear. 

“I won’t let you leave again. Not like last time.”

There is no malice. No coldness, and for the first time since you’ve met him, his words feel like warm honey instead of monotone ice. He is utterly distraught when you turn around slowly, hesitant like you’re afraid he will break your heart right then and there. 

His heart shatters at the wetness at your waterline, and the way you look up at him; completely vulnerable and scared. 

“Do you promise?” 

There is a lot of weight in your three-word question. It’s not as innocent as meets the eye, and Jungkook knows it. He feels it. When you ask him if he promises, it is an invitation back to you. You are offering him your heart, which he has already broken and bruised, and trusting him to be careful with it this time around. Jungkook already knows he loves you. And if you let him, he’ll spend the rest of his life making sure this promise remains unbroken. 

“I promise.” 

It’s a commitment. One he used to be terrified of making, but it seems so easy when it’s for you. 

And when you fly forward to wrap your arms around him, Jungkook feels like home. Like the stars twinkle a little brighter and the earth stops spinning for a mere second, just for the two of you. You feel him squeeze you closer, just as tightly, and Jungkook wants to kick himself for depriving you both of a simple thing called love. 

You are here, souls and now bodies intertwined, and Jungkook lets the pain of past hurt fall away. Pain is so miniscule when you are by his side. When you pull back, Jungkook frowns at your red-rimmed eyes, and the tears that still persist. He wipes it away oh so softly, as if you were delicate clay and he, a sculptor. 

“Please don’t cry anymore, princess, it breaks my heart. I’m so sorry.” It is the softest, most sugary tone you’ve ever heard out of him. But hearing affection from his lips makes you feel that perhaps all of this sorrow, this longing, has been worth it. He has been worth it. He always has. 

“I love you, Y/N.” Jungkook’s words are almost as beautiful as he is. 

His lips are familiar when you lean forward and kiss him. Yet they are different. This time, the hands on your waist hold you a bit more carefully, even closer if that were possible. You can feel his thudding heart as it beats against your own, learning to match rhythms with each other, and Jungkook cradles your face in his hand like you are the only artwork he has truly been proud of. 

And it’s true. All the canvases and paints and camera film seem wasted now. Nothing he ever makes will be quite as alluring as the art he holds in his arms in this moment. 

“I love you too, you goddamn idiot.”

You meant it all those months ago, and you mean it now. If Jeon Jungkook was the sun, you would gladly change your name to Icarus. If Jeon Jungkook was the moon, then you are the tides that he pushes and pulls. If Jeon Jungkook belonged to you, well...you don’t have to imagine that anymore. He is your’s, as you are his. 

Old habits die hard, but they are not immortal. They wax and wane, and remind you that in the cosmic vastness of things, you are only human. Humans whose hearts beat in tandem and souls made to complete the other. Humans with identical crescent moons, lost but now found.

Old habits die hard. But you have learned to fix those of a broken heart. 

☾

#btsguild #jeon jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #bts fanfiction #bts soulmate au #bts enemies to lovers #bts reader insert #thoabh #bts imagine #bts scenarios #jungkook imagine #bts one shot #jungkook one shot #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook reader insert #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfiction

[troubatrain]

twisted in bedsheets - m. tkachuk

a/n: this is straight up smut.... like minimal plot mostly filth. but i hope you guys like it, i may give it a part two if anyone wants to see it but i don't know yet. big shoutout to my resident whores @hookingminor & @tkafuckit ily both sm

taglist : @barzysreputation

warnings: it's smush time (smut)

You almost wanted to make fun of him.

A part of you wondered, what did a single, twenty three year old, professional athlete who lived in a different country most of year need a house this big for? That wasn’t your business, and really neither was showing up two days after Matthew moved in with a bottle of wine and silly housewarming gift to make yourself feel better about where his little brother, also known as your best friend, was. You knocked loudly, hoping the car in the driveway meant Matthew was home and you weren’t wasting your time.

Matthew was inside, finally getting some peace and quiet after spending the day listening to his mother and the interior designer he hired argue about throw pillows. He jumped at the knock of his door, not used to the way it echoed through the house he bought on a whim. You were standing on the other side, bouncing on your heels with a bag in your hand and Matthew couldn’t help but smile.

Matthew always had a soft spot for you, Brady was your best friend and just like Matthew found himself watching out for Brady, he did the same for you. It was easy to keep it like that for years, Brady being far more possessive because you were his friend and not Matthew’s and not everything needs to be about you Matt, but it’d gotten harder lately. It was sudden, one summer Matthew came home and you were lounging by the pool and he swore his dick twitched in his pants, and it just wasn’t getting easier. It wasn’t easier when he tried to convince himself that there was an age gap between the both of you, even though it was barely two years and no one would blink an eye. It wasn’t easier when he beat the Senators and you quietly told him he had a good game because if Brady caught wind of it he’d lose his mind. And it sure as hell wasn’t easier when Brady mentioned your boyfriend constantly.

Your boyfriend who was having a party that Matthew knew for a fact Brady was at, but why weren’t you? Matthew couldn’t possibly get his hopes up, knowing if you were single he’d find some way to break your heart and you didn’t deserve that. That was the thing, Matthew ruined people and you were a far better person than he was to begin with. Matthew opens the door regardless, a smile on his face when he meets your eyes.

“Hi,” You beam, trying to play off like you were happy when you were just looking for a distraction that didn’t involve driving around and crying to Taylor Swift, “I, uh, congrats?”

Matthew chuckles, cocking his head to the side and opening his door a little further for you to come in, “Thank you, you really didn’t have to bring a gift.”

“It’s rude not too,” You scold, tapping Matthew in the arm and forgetting for a second you weren’t talking to Brady.

You pretended like you couldn’t feel it, the way his arms felt like a solid fucking rock and it was getting harder and harder to shove down that silly crush you’ve had since high school. You remember it so clearly, the moment Matthew went from Brady’s brother to just Matthew. You were a freshman, a dorky quiet kid who everyone knew not to mess with exclusively because Brady would kick the shit out of them, and you overheard a few girls in Matthew’s gossiping about how cute he was. Then it hit you, just as Matthew was leaning against his car to drive you home - he was cute. Cute turned into hot quickly, and you spent summer after summer wondering if you’d be bold enough to make a move.

You watched as Matthew pulled out the picture you’d framed for him, one his mother had taken of the three of you as kids. You were at the same ice cream shop you went to after every Blue’s game, chocolate ice cream smiles on your faces.

“You dropped your ice cream right after my mom took this,” Matthew hums, smiling at the memory himself.

“And you gave me yours because you felt bad for me,” You finish, hence the reason you chose that photo in the first place.

“You were crying,” Matthew nods, remembering the way his heart broke when he saw tears well up in your eyes. Even then, Matthew was a protector, constantly defending the people he held close to his heart, “Brady wouldn’t even share his… speaking of, isn’t there a huge rager you could be at right now?”

“Something about a party at my ex boyfriend’s doesn’t sound fun to me at all,” You sigh, hoping you wouldn’t have to explain it any further.

You didn’t have a boyfriend anymore.

It was all Matthew could process, his brain malfunctioning because he couldn’t believe it. Matthew gave you a sympathetic smile, “Let’s crack that bottle open then?”

You agreed, following Matthew into his yard to sit out by his fire pit, an early summer breeze making St. Louis unseasonably cold. He came back with two glasses, and you tried simply to ignore that his hands were big enough to hold both glasses in one, “So, Brady’s at a party at your ex-boyfriend’s place and you’re not mad at him at all?”

“I can’t be mad at Brady,” You explain, pouring yourself a glass of wine that was just a bit too big, “He doesn’t know what happened.”

“I thought you had no secrets,” Matthew questions, knowing that Brady knew everything about you and you were the same way. You turned your attention to the glass, swirling it in your hand while you seemed to shut down under Matthew’s gaze, “Y/N… it’s me, you know you can tell me.”

“It’s really embarrassing,” You whisper, “He cheated on me…”

“That’s not your fault,” Matthew scoffs, throwing an arm around your shoulders, “Why didn’t you tell-”

“He told me it was because the girl he was hooking up with was better in bed than me,” You whisper, Matthew closing his mouth immediately. He took a deep breath, his fingers scratching against your scalp while he looked straight ahead, “Please don’t tell Brady.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Matthew nods, his bottom lip between his teeth, “You’re perfect, and if he doesn’t see that he can go fuck himself.”

“What if he’s right?” You ask, taking a gulp of your drink. Matthew knew what road you were headed towards, one that was going to leave you insecure about this for the rest of your life if Matthew didn’t choose his next words carefully.

“He’s not,” Matthew shakes his head, hopping off the outdoor sofa you were on and kneeling down in front of you, “And you don’t need some douchebags opinion to make yourself feel good.”

“Would you sleep with me?” You ask, Matthew’s hand that had been rubbing your thighs gently stopped. You craved the validation, and a part of you always wondered if you had a shot with Matthew. If you were both able to drown out the noise from your friends and family, would he want you? Matthew’s hand crept up to your cheek, his thumb tracing your lip. You looked at him like this was the most important question he’d ever have to answer, and like if he said yes your lips would be on his, “And tell me I’m good.”

Matthew shut his eyes, running every possible scenerio knowing all of them include him fucking this up and hurting your feelings, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying. His lips ghosted over yours, stubble rough against your skin, “You’re sure about this?”

“Please,” You pout, not even bothering to give Matthew your best sexy face. You’d faked it enough, a year of trying to be something you weren’t to please some asshole who left for someone else anyways. Matthew’s hands slid on either side of you, his lips against yours and your hands on the back of his neck.

“Inside,” Matthew mutters against your lips, knowing if he didn’t stop himself now his new neighbors would get a show they didn’t ask for. You deserved better than that anyways. You snuck inside, your lips pressing kisses to Matthew’s neck while his arm stayed around your waist until you ended up in his bedroom. The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed, Matthew crawling on top of you, “I cannot believe that asshole let you slip through his fingers like that.”

“Make me forget about him then,” You let out a breath, Matthew smirking against your skin when you lit up that competitive fire he’d always had. You tugged at the bottom of his shirt, Matthew taking the hint and grabbing it from the back of his neck to toss off. Matthew’s hands slid under your shirt, unhooking your bra and swirling his finger around your nipples, pulling a moan from you.

“You even moan pretty,” Matthew could believe it, knowing just how many dreams like this, but really hearing it was something else entirely. Matthew shed your clothes quickly, leaving you just in your panties while he pressed kisses against your skin, murmurs of praise left in their wake.

“Matty,” You whimper, tilting Matthew’s chin up from where it was nestling between your thighs, “No one’s ever made me cum like this before.”

Matthew swore he was going to blow right there. The way your eyes looked into his, a trust that you were giving him that it was becoming clear you’d never given anyone. If it was anyone else, Matthew’s cocky nature would have broken through, a challenge accepted attitude that he couldn’t have with you.

You weren’t nervous but it wasn’t some secret that Matthew got around, and admitting something that seemed as trivial as what you’d told him was a big deal to you. Matthew’s blue eyes were soft, a small smile on his face, “We’ll go slow baby.”

And slow it was, Matthew was patient, trying to figure out what was going to get you off. His tongue was lapping at your core slowly, smirking at the way you squirmed whenever he got close to your clit. Your hands were in his hair, curling his overgrown hair around your fingers. Matthew’s tongue flicked your clit, your soft grip on his curls tighter, “Fuck, sorry-”

“Keep tugging on them,” Matthew groans against you, the vibrations sending a chill up your spine. His fingers were digging into your thighs, undoubtedly leaving a mark to worry about later, but you didn’t care. Matthew was eating your pussy like it was his last fucking meal, growing harder from the way you were moaning his name. You were close, your hips lifting off the bed and Matthew’s hands against your stomach to keep you right where you were. The only sounds echoing through that house were the ones from your orgasm, washing over you while Matthew finally pulled away. His finger swiped your core, sucking your cum off his finger, “Fucking delicious…”

You could feel the heat on your cheeks, holding your arm over your face from Matthew’s praise. He let out a light laugh, pulling your arm down and pressing a kiss to your forehead, “Don’t be insecure, when you’re with me you don’t have to be.”

You didn’t have a second to process his words, the way say with me like this was something meant to last more than a night, because Matthew’s lips were back on yours. Your hand snuck between you, palming him through his sweats and swallowing the groan with your lips, “I want to try something.”

Matthew’s brows raised, letting you push him onto his back without a fight. You’d never been the most confident in the bedroom, and you really never tried anything that wasn’t missionary, but something about Matthew’s praise had your head held high. You grind your hips against him, a smug smile on Matthew’s face, “You’ve never been on top before?”

You shook your head no, biting your lip and waiting for why have you had the most boring sex life imaginable laugh that should have followed. It never came, instead Matthew’s hands gripped your hips and lifted you up so he could kick off his sweats and boxers. His hand fell, searching through his bedside table for a condom, tearing it open with his teeth and rolling it onto his cock. He tapped your clit with the head, his thumb that was still gripping you was rubbing softly against your skin, “Whenever you’re ready babe.”

Matthew watched you sink yourself onto him slowly, biting his lip to stop himself from cumming too soon because this was hotter than anything he could have imagined. All of those fantasies included finding out you were secretly dirty as hell, but finding out you weren’t and the trust you seemed to give Matthew because he’d never done you wrong was even sexier. Matthew’s hands guided your hips slowly, his head thrown back from the pleasure, “Am I doing good?”

“You’re doing fucking wonderful baby,” Matthew groans, grabbing a fistful of your ass. You moan, falling forward and kissing Matthew’s jaw lightly. He threw his arm around your back, fucking up into you at faster pace, “I want you cum again, c’mon.”

“Matty, I-” You whimper, a protest that you didn’t think you had another one in you until your pussy clenched around him. Your legs were shaking, Matthew stopping himself before he got too rough with you. You caught your breath for a second, Matthew pushing your hair away from your face so he could kiss you. His kisses were gentle, a stark contrast from the fact that his cock was still buried inside of you. You tried to move, grind your hips against his to get him off like he’d just done to you, but your hips bucked from the sensitivity.

“Slow down babe,” Matthew hums, his large hand rubbing your back gently, “We’ll get there.”

Getting there wasn’t hard at all. Not after Matthew had you on your back so he could keep fucking you. You looked beautiful, moaning his own name below him like you’d never said anyone’s name like that. Matthew’s head was tucked into your neck, the sounds of his skin slapping against yours filling the room until he finally came with a loud groan.

When you finally came down from the after sex high, a realization washed over you. You’d had sex with your best friend’s brother. The same brother you’d spend years of your life with. Matthew walked into his bathroom, grabbing you a warm washcloth and a clean shirt from his closet. He got back into his room, glancing at the way you were looking around his room with his sheets over your chest unsure of whether or not you should leave. Matthew leans down, pressing a kiss to your lips, “I want you to stay.”

“You don’t have to let me-” You start to protest, a weird feeling in your chest you couldn’t quite describe. You were a relationship type, hook ups weren’t your playing field and you knew Matthew lived by them. You never forgot it either, the way he slugged back a beer and looked Brady and yourself dead in the eyes and told you he swore he wasn’t built to last more than a night. Matthew chuckles, cleaning you up and throwing his shirt over your frame. He laid down next to you, pulling you against his chest and kissing your shoulder.

“I want you to stay here,” Matthew assures you, smiling wide when you tucked yourself into his side.

Hey Matty?

Yeah?

Don’t tell Brady about this.

Secret’s safe with me Y/N.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

[ragingbookdragon]

I'm Only A Crack In This Castle Of Glass (Hardly Anything Else I Need To Be) PT. 5

Batfamily x Batsis Story!

Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Explicit Language, ALL THE ANGST. AND MORE TO COME! Tags!: @itsnottilly @cloudyskylines @starflyer-104 @iwillstaywiththemforever @justine-en @weirdgirlfromtx @notsostraightweeb @candlestudy @edlothia-baby @soul-end @willieoo @willowoo @peterxwade24 @the-atlantic-french-fry @bad-bouquet-of-emotions @vvipgot7be @pure-princess-97 @atomicsoulhumanspy

Author's Note: I have nothing to say for any of the emotions y'all are about to get from this. Enjoy!-Thorne

She wasn’t sure what she expected when she sat down, but the stretching silence growing between her and her estranged family wasn’t it. She tried to look anywhere but them, not because she was ashamed—far from it. But it was more than awkward sitting across from three brothers and a father she’d not spoken to in three years, let alone tell them she was even alive.

Her eyes found Wally’s as he sat down beside her eldest brother and if looks could’ve killed, he’d been dead and buried.

“Glare at me all you want, but I’m not going to apologize,” he shrugged.

Scowling, she turned her attention to the skyline. “Fuck you,” she spat, crossing her arms.

“At least talk to them, (Y/N).”

“And why should I, Wally?” she questioned, glaring at him. “I don’t have anything to say. If I did, I wouldn’t be here in Central.”

“You’re not leaving until you talk to them,” he finalized with a firm look and she growled low in her throat and resigned herself to her fate.

Her eyes darted to her father’s and she couldn’t for the life of her decipher what was in them. “I’ll talk for an hour,” she told him. “I’m not talking about what I’ve been doing in Central City, so don’t ask. I’m not talking about the life I’ve been living, so don’t ask. You’re only allowed to ask me about my departure and that’s it. But after one hour is up, I’m leaving.”

“Who said you get to leave,” Wally questioned, and she shot him the darkest glower she could muster.

“So help me God, Wally West you’ll either take me home or you’ll fix that fucking elevator and I’ll walk myself home. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell the world who every vigilante is at this table.”

For once she managed to stump him because his eyes went wide—so did her family’s but she didn’t care—and he finally nodded.

“Alright. One hour.”

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, she turned back to her family, more specifically her father. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

“Maybe for you to come home, (Y/N),” Jason answered, and she glanced to him.

“Not a chance. Next?”

“(Y/N), you don’t have to be hostile. We’re not going to force you here,” Dick said, and she looked at him now, eyes narrowing.

“The manipulation tactic isn’t going to work on me, Dick. I’m not here for to be tricked into coming back. I’m never coming back.” She cocked her leg over the side of the table and reclined, biting out, “Give me your anger. I’d prefer that instead of whatever this pitiful bullshit you’ve got going on.”

In the eighteen years they’d known their sister they’d never heard her say such a callous thing, but her words had practically slapped Dick across the face because hurt etched onto his expression, then immediately turned into anger.

“You want my anger? Fine.” He stood and pointed at her. “What the hell is wrong with you! Why would just up and disappear like you did! Do you have any idea how scared we were for you! How distraught!”

(Y/N) blinked at him. “Knowing how you like to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders because you can’t help but be a hero? Probably a lot.” She made a dramatic show of looking at her watch. “You’ve got forty minutes. Keep it up.”

Her eyes shifted to Bruce’s. “Did you let them read the letter? Or did you just throw it away after you read it?”

Dick, Jason, and Tim all turned to Bruce at that.

“Letter?” Tim repeated. “What letter?”

(Y/N)’s mouth made an ‘o’ shape and then she smiled knowingly. “Oh, you never showed them the letter, did you?” She looked to her brothers. “I wrote dad a letter the night I left to explain why I was leaving. It’s sugarcoated bullshit but it is the truth.”

Dick’s face contorted in anger. “(Y/N) left a reason behind and you didn’t tell us about it? Three years and not a single word?”

Bruce merely stared at her as he pulled the letter out of his coat pocket. “I was going to burn it when I found her again. Talk to her before anyone else could.”

Jason snatched the letter from his hands. It had faded a bit, softened around the hard edges, like someone had opened it and read it every day for three years.

His eyes scanned the paper, and he met her gaze, voice chock-full of hurt and she had to fight tooth and nail to keep herself from externally reacting. “You left because you thought we didn’t care about you?”

Dick reached over and took the letter. With furrowed brows and a frown, he started to read aloud, and Bruce gazed at (Y/N) as the memory came back to him.

***

Mornings at the manor were unusually quiet in comparison with the evenings. Everyone was typically too tired to argue so it accounted for a peaceful breakfast of soft words and chewing. Everyone had an assigned seat and every child had learned early on not to take the seat that belonged to another brother or their sister because there would be a fight about it.

Dick and Jason sat next to each other and (Y/N) took the seat at the end of that side; Tim and Damian took the other side—oldest to youngest, just the neat and even way Bruce liked it.

It was rare for any of the boys to be awake before him or Alfred and (Y/N) was usually the first kid to the table, the boys wandering in just minutes after her. Oddly enough, that morning she hadn’t come down for breakfast—which she always came to.

Bruce looked at Alfred. “Is (Y/N) coming down?”

Alfred hummed and gently maneuvered Tim’s arm to the side to he could set down the plate. “When I went to her door, it was locked, and I received no conversation from inside.”

Jason snorted and sipped his coffee. “Probably had a long night with her friends and is still out. I know I would be.”

“How would you know?” Tim interrupted. “You died before you got to the eleventh grade.”

“You’re one to talk, dropout,” Dick countered, and Damian sighed.

“Richard, you dropped out of college. The only son of Batman who has actually completed an entire bout of schooling is me.”

The three boys turned on him with scowls and retorted, “No one asked you, pipsqueak.” Damian glared back at them.

Bruce rolled his eyes, using the side of his fork to cut into his omelet. “Let’s try not to start a free-for-all here in the breakfast room, please.” He glanced at Alfred. “She’s probably tired from all the ceremonies. Let her sleep.”

Alfred nodded. “Of course, Master Bruce. She should be well rested this evening.”

But when the evening came, Alfred still hadn’t been able to get (Y/N) to unlock her bedroom nor speak to him. He certainly wasn’t worried, but it was off for her to be so reclusive. When Bruce and the boys came back from patrol, he mentioned it to him.

“Miss (Y/N) hasn’t come out from her bedroom, Master Bruce. Nor has she said a single word all day.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed and he tugged the cowl off, rising from the seat at the Batcomputer. “I’ll go check on her,” he replied. “You deal with…” his steel eyes drifted to Dick who had Tim in a headlock and Jason who was giving Damian a noogie. “Them,” he finalized, leaving the poor butler behind.

He knocked on the door to her room and pressed his ear to it. “(Y/N)? You haven’t come out all day. Is everything alright?”

Nothing. Not even a breath.

“(Y/N), are you in there?” he asked again and when he didn’t receive a confirmation, he raised his arm, running his fingers along the doorframe until he touched a small metal piece. He pulled it down and stuck it in the door, wiggling the knob for a second before it clicked, and he opened the door.

“Sweetheart, we’ve been trying to—” Bruce went silent when he saw the kempt room. Bed neatly made, everything organized and put away. Even her clothes hamper was empty.

He blinked and walked into the room, quickly heading to the bathroom to check for her there. It was empty as well, and just as clean, leaving him stunned as he exited the bath.

Wandering over to her desk, he saw an elegant envelope sitting on top of her laptop, his name written in beautiful penmanship. He picked it up and unfolded it, pulling out the multi-page letter. He drew his eyes along the golden lines, reading her words.

Dad,

I don’t really know how to start this letter. Truth be told I’ve written at least six before this one, and even then, I’m not entirely happy with it. But if you’re reading this, I’m not here anymore. I haven’t hurt myself in anyway, you don’t need to worry about Vicki Vale or Jack Ryder reporting the discovery of my body. I mean it in a literal sense—I’m not in Gotham anymore. Neither am I ever coming back.

Don’t think this is your fault. You’re a good father, the best I could’ve been given, and my brothers are good siblings. But the truth is that I’m not fit for this family of heroes. And I never have been. My best when trying to be what all of you are, was never good enough and I’ve spent eighteen years staring at your backs, waiting for you all to realize that I’m still here, that I still matter even if I’m not like you. And I don’t want to feel like a stranger in my own home any longer.

I don’t want you to look for me. I know you will, but I wish you wouldn’t. This isn’t some spur of the moment thing I decided to do the night after graduation. If you look at my bank records, I’ve been withdrawing cash from my savings since freshman year—this is four years of planning, so please understand that I’m doing this because I don’t want to be found—ever.

I’ll leave the story for the media up for you, though I doubt that they’ll care long enough to make a deal of it. It’ll pass like winter does spring and they’ll move on to the next bigger story.

Thank you for everything dad, and good luck with Gotham—keep it safe like you always have. And I hope that one day when you think of me, you won’t feel disappointment. I’ve only ever tried to be something that when you looked down on me, you’d only be proud, and I hope one day I’ll achieve what I always dreamed about. Eighteen is young to be on your own and I’m scared. But I’ll be okay—I always have been.

So do me a favor and don’t spend too much time over this. There are plenty more younger kids that need a parent’s hand on their backs to steady them like you once did for me. Find one and fill my spot. Let them shine brighter than I ever could. Let them be the one worthy to be a Wayne—I know I never was.

-(Y/N)

Bruce barely had time to grasp the back of her chair to keep himself from falling to his knees in shock. The letter was clenched in his hand and his lungs wouldn’t take in air like he wanted them to, his heart aching with each palpitation. He looked around the room to her dresser drawers, willing the strength into his legs to moved over to it. He opened every drawer and to his astonishment, they were empty. Hurrying to the bathroom, he noticed the drawers in there were empty as well. She was really gone. And he had no idea what to do.

***

Tears were in Dick’s eyes when he finished the letter and he looked up at her. “How could you ever think we didn’t care about you, (Y/N)?”

She didn’t want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to sit there and explain every time she asked her brothers if they wanted to do something with her and they conveniently had something else to do. Didn’t want to explain every school and extracurricular performance that went unattended and left a little girl standing in front of a crowd barely managing to stave off the tears as she bowed and thanked them for coming. She didn’t want to remember all the memories that chipped away at her heart with every disappointment that occurred. All she wanted to do was leave.

(Y/N) had earlier returned to her original position, hands in her lap and she clenched her fists until her nails bit into the skin of her palms, eyes directed anywhere but Dick’s.

“I think it’s time we call this little reunion done,” she said, standing to her feet. “We’re not going to get anywhere.”

“Not if you run again,” Jason muttered, unconsciously wiping a tear from his eye.

She pointed at him, hissing, “I didn’t run the first time, Jason. I left. On my own accord.”

“You ran instead of coming to us, (Y/N),” Tim said, and she threw her hands above her head in disbelief.

“What the fuck did you want me to do! Wander down into the cave and beg at your feet for someone to pay attention to me! To at least pretend like I was a sister! I did! Every day!”

(Y/N) picked up her purse and yanked it up her arm. “Cassandra seems to be fitting in better than I did. So go and dote on her as the younger sibling. I’m not interested in the position anymore.”

“It’s not a competition,” Dick explained. “We love you just as much as we love Cass.”

She paused and gazed at him, voice laced with disappointment as she disagreed, “Then you should make sure she’s content in the manor, because if you love her with any semblance of how you loved me? It’s not at all.”

Her eyes shifted to Wally’s. “Fix the elevator. Now.”

He stayed seated for a moment, the two of them staring each other down, then he nodded wordlessly and moved to the elevator, starting it again. Her family stayed seated, and she gave them one final look before she followed Wally, silently waiting for the doors to open.

When they did, she stepped inside and turned around, hitting the button. Just before the doors closed, Wally stopped them and murmured, “You’re making a mistake.”

“My worst mistake was becoming friends with you.” (Y/N) blinked at him, then reached up and shoved his hand away from the door and as it closed, she remarked coldly, “And you can go to hell for all I care.”

#batfamily x reader #batfamily x reader imagines #batfamily x reader imagine #batfamily imagines #batfamily imagine #batfamily #batsis x batfam #batsis x batfamily imagines #batsis x batfamily imagine #batsis imagines #batsis imagine #batsis #bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #jason todd #red hood #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #dc comics #dc imagines #dc imagine #dc