#but like my old school had maybe 10 black students and yet my school would go balls to the wall for bhm

[r3ally-bad-url]

I should've gotten a pic of this but my school has put out a bunch of blatant money grab black history clothing and so I'm leaving the gym yesterday and I see this sweater that says "black history month" but the history month is crossed out and says "and future" and for a moment I'm like oh okay this exercise class just killed my brain

And then I get in my friends car and she's like "did that just say black and future???"

#shut up harley #my school puts literally no effort into anything and itd be so funny if it werent so frustraying #i feel like arnold from magic school bus being like my old school #but like my old school had maybe 10 black students and yet my school would go balls to the wall for bhm #putting out emails every day with notable figures doing events for black students every day #the clubs would go wild #now i go to a school where 1/4 of the pop is black and they cant even do a sweater right lmaoooo

[odinsblog]

So I took an unexpected trip down memory lane today. Something I haven’t thought about for almost two decades…

After work, I decided to avail myself of the nearest happy hour with some acquaintances, and me being me, ofc the conversation eventually turned to politics (generally a no no for me, but what can I say - blame it on the alcohol, right?)

Someone I’ve known for some years now, a white person, abruptly asked me if I had ever seen an actual burning cross before. If I’m being honest here, my initial instinct was to be angry at them because we don’t know each other like that. We were in a large group, and while I know he didn’t intend to, it’s “innocent” questions like that that put Black people on the spot. Kinda like asking the only Black student in a classroom full of white people what their thoughts are on slavery. Don’t get me wrong, some exceptionally gifted Black people would knock that question outta the ballpark. But many of us, caught unawares, might struggle to find all the right words. Even though I’ve taken many such public speaking classes to prepare me for just such an eventuality (extemporaneous public speaking is part of my job, currently), not everyone is prepared to be an on-demand public speaker. And definitely not on such personal subjects.

Anyway, I was actually kinda vibing with the mood in the bar and I didn’t really feel like making a scene, so decided to pull my “friend” aside to answer him.

And here’s where I got dragged down memory lane.

I was in high school. I don’t remember the exact year, but it was before I graduated, so that puts it somewhere (maybe a year or two) before 2002.

I went to the great (racist) state of Alabama, and the city of Shorter, for a week long visit with my then-girlfriend and her folks. Absolutely NOTHING could have prepared me for the abject poverty I had read about but only then witnessed firsthand.

I was born in Florida. I literally have memories of walking blocks and blocks barefoot on hot asphalt to go to the nearest corner store. BUT … Imma city boy at heart. Because of my father’s job, we were constantly moving all up and down the West coast of the country. I’ve lived and gone to schools for at least a year in major metropolitan hubs like NYC, Boston, Raleigh, DC, Hartford, Philly, Atlanta, and Nawlins*, etc. When I arrived in Shorter, it was the first time I had ever seen dirt roads that were the major routes between (Black) inner cities. The very first night when I got there, THE FUCKING SHERIFF (literally the only white person I saw in my week long visit) made it a point to stop by my gf’s moms house because, “I heard we were getting a fancy out of towner here today,” and even though I wasn’t a full grown man yet, I can still remember the feeling of incredulity and utter disbelief I had in those few minutes of being interrogated by the mf sheriff, who btw, arrived at my gf’s moms house with his lights on and sirens blaring. If you’re wondering, yes, he was white, and if I had to do a sketch of him today, it would look EXACTLY like the sheriff from that old tv show with Bo, Luke and Daisy Duke. “Dukes of Hazard,” I think.

And later that evening, the first time I had to go to relieve myself, I asked my hosts where the bathroom was, half asleep , the youngest brother, a kid of about 9 or 10, took me by the hand, led me to the back door, and pointed into the darkness at some weird looking treehouse a few yards from the house’s back door—except there was no tree and whatever it was that I was looking at was on the ground. I said, “No, where is your BATHROOM?,” and still half asleep, again he pointed at the weird looking tree house and said, “That’s it.”

I walked out, still not knowing exactly what to expect when I got closer to whatever it was in their backyard, and when I got close enough to recognize the smell, I stopped dead in my tracks … was this … waitaminute … is this an OUTHOUSE??!! I held my nose and cautiously opened the door, and sure enough, yes: it really was an outhouse. Like for real. In real life. I didn’t want to be rude, but there was no fucking way in hell I was going to take a dump in an outhouse. I went back to the house and awkwardly asked if there was another bathroom, and I was a little bit amused when he said, “Yeah, if you want, I can walk you over to the neighbor’s house and you can use their outhouse.” It turned out that everyone in the hood had outhouses.

I’m not sharing this to dunk on Alabama, it’s just what happened and it was all incredibly jarring for me. Shorter, Alabama was incredibly poor at the time, and there was no possible way for me to be prepared for all of the abject poverty I witnessed firsthand. And, lol, it’s not like I grew up wealthy or anything. But this was the norm for where I was visiting. I would later learn that my gf’s mom sent her daughter to Florida literally for a better life that she couldn’t provide her. My gf lived in Florida with her (comparatively) “very wealthy” aunt and uncle, who lived in what was essentially one step up from the projects. Truly some heartbreaking shit. I was humbled, but this experience gave me perspective like no history book could ever do.

AND YET …… I was a young teenaged boy, who was far away from home with his girlfriend, who I believed I would one day marry, so I somehow managed to brush almost all of that aside, because while my gf’s mom had to work double shifts at the dog track, we were assigned a chaperone—and he was literally thee coolest older cuz’n everrrr. He went out of his way to make sure my gf and I had enough time alone to make out pretty much whenever the mood struck us! Things were a little rougher than I had anticipated, but the time I had alone with my gf made it worth everything.

And then one night, Cuz’n Feaster (yes, that was his real name) took us to a hole in the wall bar. Don’t worry, he didn’t take us inside or give us liquor or anything, he just went inside for about an hour and left two teenaged virgins COMPLETELY alone in the backseat of his Chevy. FOR AN HOUR!!!

And when I tell you that we went all the way, I mean we went ALL the way—to third base!! Hands everywhere exploring everything, heavy kissing and making out! WITHOUT ANY SEX. (We were both two good little Pentecostal kids who had taken a stupid “purity” pledge, what did you expect?)

HA! But I will never forget that night though. I can still hear “Do Me Baby,” by Prince playing on the radio. Good times, man.

But I was telling you about the first time I saw a burning KKK cross, right??

So when cuz’n Feaster finally came out of the “club,” it was super late and dark outside. I remember him and my gf laughing at me because my neck was craned up looking out the window like a dog with the window rolled down. There were absolutely no lights outside on the road. No streetlights, no road lights, no house lights, no nothing except for the headlights and the stars above. I couldn’t believe all the stars I could see. I even recognized part of the Milky Way. It was an amazing sight. An amazing ride home. And an amazing way to top off an amazing night.

I was young, I was in love, I was happy and holding my girl’s hand, the stars were out, and just… Everything was perfect. Perfect.

And that’s when we started getting closer and closer to …. something?? Burning in the middle of an open field? As we got closer and closer, for the second time on my trip, my eyes and my brain recognized what I must be seeing, but my mind couldn’t comprehend or accept what it was: an enormous burning cross in a field, with men in white pointy hoods. It was the Klan!! I couldn’t fucking believe it. This was something that I knew and understood existed, but that was supposed to be history book stuff, right? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

“Feaster, is that…”

-The Klan? Yup, that’s them. Leave them alone, and they’ll leave you alone.

Pfft! I scoffed. Messing with Black people who aren’t fucking with them is pretty much their job description.

And he and my gf were sO fucking calm about it. They acted like they saw that shit every day and twice on the weekend. BUT MY BLACK ASS WAS FREAKING THE FUCK OUT.

“Feaster, we’re all Black! What if-”

-Calm down. They do that all the time. And even if they wanted to, nobody can catch me in this car.

And my only thought was, we’re all gonna get lynched and die because this fool thinks his car is faster than bullets. We had to drive RIGHT BY that cross. I know it was probably my imagination working triple time, but it looked like it was 100 feet tall. It was less than a football field away, and that cross was burning so bright that it turned nighttime into daylight, disappeared all the stars, and I could very clearly see men in white robes holding guns. I was fucking terrified. Talk about sights you won’t ever forget. And Idk why, but the fact that Feaster and my gf were so damn calm about it just really added that extra something to my freaking out. It was unnerving af.

Me and my gf caught the bus back home to Florida the next day, but yeah, that was the first (but not the last) time I had ever seen a KKK cross before. Such a mix of emotions, that night was.

#a post about me #kkk #klu klux klan

[thedianadiary]

0005.

What is in the back seat of your car right now? just cleaned it yesterday so i think all that is left back there is in the sleeve of the seat and its the bluetooth speaker.

What was the last thing you threw up? gluten. 0/10 recommend

Menthol or regular cigarettes? i dont smoke

What is your favorite episode of Friends? gosh its been so long since ive watched friends. i always liked their thanksgiving ep and any of the ones with tom selleck because WOOF, papi.

Does anyone have any blackmail on you? no lol

If you could marry any celebrity today who would it be? i don’t really know any of the celebs outside of their performances so i dont think thats a viable reason to marry someone.

Have you been to a strip club? nope

Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you? my sports bra from K

Are you wearing socks right now? nope its hot out

What was the last thing you had to drink? ice water

What are you wearing right now? shorts and a tank

Last food you ate? a burrito omg it was so good.

Have you bought any clothing items in the last week? i came SO close to buying these short overalls ive been eyeing from old navy for weeks because they were half off and i just love them but i didnt.

When is the last time you ran? running is not it for me. it triggers asthma crap so bad for me.

What’s the last sporting event you watched? soccer

Last person’s house you were in? C’s

Last movie you saw? in theaters? the newest antman. outside of theaters? uhhh omg the awful wakanda forever. SO lame.

Who is the last person you sent a message to on Facebook? lol the chick who accidentally got my mail from K. 

Ever go to camp? just like day camps.

Were you an honor roll student in school? yes

Do you like sushi? no

Do you have a tan? yes but its the last day of it. tomorrow i put on a fresh one lol

How old do you want to be when you have kids? im past that age that i *wanted* to be pregnant by. soooo. thats going well. but maybe in the next 2 years ?

Have you ever drank your soda from a straw? of course

What is your age? 30

Are you someone’s best friend? yes

Where is your dad right now? i honestly wouldn’t know if his gf didnt just text saying he’s in the hospital for some heart stuff What was the last thing you said? after all this back and forth a fifth won’t do, well I finally got a handle, finally got a handle on you

What color is your watch? white band

What do you think of when you think of Australia? enormous spiders and the opera house

Ever ridden on a roller coaster? outside of the baby ones no lol

Favorite gemstone? oooo. i love a lot of them to be honest.

Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? lol i rarely EVER go in. 

Do you have a roommate? mom Do you have any bad habits? oh ya. im a little too sassy, i have horrible sleeping habits, etc.

What is your favorite number? 2 prob

Do you know anyone named Lori? yes actually

What color is your mom’s hair? its like black, silver, white.

Do you have a dog? sadly no. my beloved miller passed 2 years ago and i havent gotten a dog yet.

What happened to you in 1993? i was one year old lol

Does your first memory involve your dad? my first memory? no. my memories with dad arent all that wonderful tbh

Do you remember singing any songs as kids? yes of course! we have tons of videos of that lol

When was the last time you went swimming? last summer and man i miss it. i would honestly LOVE a freaking pool.

Has your luggage ever gotten lost? yes ahahaha definitely. but they recovered it eventually.

Biggest annoyance in your life right this minute? zero money.

Have you ever thought it would be cool to smash a guitar? nope

Do you like watching a bonfire? yes its pretty soothing. we were gonna do that today but theres a red flag warning so itll have to wait.

Are you allergic to anything? dairy and gluten HA

What is one thing you miss about your past? not having to worry about money

Do you ever get flu shots? i havent ever

Favorite shoes that you wear all the time? hmmm i need a good pair of sandals tbh

What is one thing you’ve learned about life recently? things work out the way they are supposed to

Are you jealous of anyone? mildly but not overwhelmingly. i would love to have a great bod and a dream career and a husband and kids but not all that worried about it.

Is anyone jealous of you? some are jealous over me, but of me probably not.

[meanwhileinstasiville]

These parades of vehicles are based on *something*, I don’t know

Dear motorola, since I get penalized for knowing you by other groups (lee expy at the library appears *side by side with ken burns* the second I log into this website), and yet seem to enjoy *zero* of the fruits of your system, I hope you can understand why it isn’t for me.

“Everything has a ring in its nose” to paraphrase a late friend, and I think these sorts of days at the library are looking for one of those for me. Either for religious purposes, or else the cartel kingpin’s son at the college; maybe both.

There’s a guy on 8 being helped by Ken Burns. Who got an assist from Cody (a lee expy, like the lee I worked with more that 13 years ago). There’s a Tony expy black guy sitting on 6 with yellow headphones and a black bandana. There’s a guy translating something and then writing it on paper on 10, who has chocolate milk and donuts; I don’t know what he’s doing. 

1 has the “PNW” shirt guy next to the Ryan expy on 2 but white and heavy set with “cat ears” as his new prop. A “furry” coated woman on 3 among a group of men who can’t smell that great who seems well to do and also old. A handsy guy with I don’t know what those Euro hats are called, sat on 4 last, costumed up with “shit kickers” as my uncle would call them. I don’t know what this is supposed to *do*. Word salad kid on 5 has become a daily thing that begins and ends when I arrive and depart specifically; today he’s whistling and saying “arthur” over and over again, but in the past, his salad had referenced my alcoholic cousin and his roommate’s blackout drunk ramblings. A gang specific sort of aside to no one in particular. 

I’ve seen a lot of “male expys” for lack of a better term, of women I’ve known, and also even women who have an irregular presence here going back a long way. Somebody seems to think that women and men are interchangeable, so far as “people to talk to” are concerned, at least potential ones because *its not going to happen*. Old grizzled guy from the washout alley up to Fairview replaced gap toothed throat clearer on 9 yesterday. When I reference spiral (Polly, we’ll say) there is alternately an affable seeming computer chess player who shows up to sit kitty corner to the terminal I’m using, else a van driving reference librarian who “started college at 15″ on loan from somewhere else. She resembles “spiral” in the hair and superficially in the face, but everything below the neck is Latino proportioned. And I should back up and say I used to use the internet at the library as a matter of personal preference, because of the hardback reference section and the sort of “untruth” of Snopes verified facts *Slightly Stoopid* shirt clad guy just appeared to need something at the reference desk, at *exactly* 12:50pm, for his laptop he walked over there. I guess people read these posts before I even post them, and even react to them. 

If I were going to call out a cartel Latino “joke” being made from a “skinner box” here at the library, I would say “Tenchi Muyo”. (Jail/Die Muy O). Also the long running “no need for...” because things get put in front of me that are supposed to be “convenient” and “easy” going back a lot of cartel years. No need to look beyond what’s been set in front, instead of getting shot among other things, for showing up elsewhere looking for alternatives, as it were. Which, like the translator guy sitting on 10, isn’t very white thinking. 

(In the five minutes or so since posting, this, the guy on 10 started munching donuts as soon at the “affable chess guy” I mentioned, took a seat on 9)

I don’t mind any of this stuff or really take any of it seriously because it was ~299 to 1 the student body vs me, when I was in elementary school. I don’t feel cowed. Or subjugated. I feel persecuted. What a crew.

[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

[yasminbenoit]

Yasmin Benoit in Cosmopolitan: “I’m the Unlikely Face of Asexuality”

I was 10 years old when I started to wonder if there was something wrong with me. I realised I was asexual around the same time as my peers realised they weren’t. In late primary school, the boys and girls didn't want to play together anymore - they 'fancied' and wanted to 'go out' with each other. I watched girls fighting over boy drama in the cafeteria and wondered what had gotten into everyone.

That’s when I decided I’d attend an all girls’ school under the naive belief that, in the absence of boys, none of the girls would care about sex or dating. I quickly discovered that a same-sex environment had the opposite effect.

By the time I was a teenager, my peers started to wonder what was wrong with me. The sexual frustration was turned up to 100, which made it all the more obvious that I wasn't reacting the same way as the other teens. While their sexuality was directed towards any nearby boy, a poster of a boy, or even each other, mine wasn't directed anywhere. And other people wanted to work out why that was more than I did.

Before believing that it was just my innate sexuality, it was easier to assume that I was gay and in denial. Maybe I was molested as a kid and I’d forgotten about it, but been left with psychological scars. I could be hiding a hidden perversion – my dad asked me whether I was into inanimate objects or children when I told him that I wasn’t attracted to men or women. I might be a psychopath, unable to empathise with people enough to deem them attractive. The theory that held the most weight was that I was 'mentally stunted', and I was treated as such. I started to wonder if they were right.

At 15, I learned the word asexual. It was during yet another analysis session of my sexuality at school. I described myself as not being attracted to men or women for the thousandth time, and someone suggested I might be “asexual or something.” With a quick Google search, I realised I wasn’t alone. Asexuality is a term used to describe those who experience a lack of sexual attraction and/or low levels of sexual desire towards others.

It wasn’t a mental or physical disorder, or a personality flaw, or anything related to my appearance or my life experiences. It wasn’t the same as being celibate, or anti-sex, or just being a ‘late bloomer.’ It was a legitimate sexual orientation characterised purely by a lack of sexual attraction or desire, meaning that it had no implications on whether an asexual could masturbate, or actually enjoy sex, or have children, or be in a romantic relationship. There were no limitations, just a way to bring a lot of people under one united umbrella.

I had finally found an answer to everyone’s question... only, no one else knew what the hell I was talking about. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop them from spewing the same ignorant views I had been hearing for years.

To an extent, I can’t blame them. It’s been almost 10 years since I discovered the term and it is barely part of public consciousness. It isn’t included in sex education or any conversations about sexuality. We’re left out of policies, pathologised in psychiatry and there is next-to-no representation for asexual people in the media. You can count positive examples on one hand. Most of the time, asexuality is either a fleeting reference, the butt of a joke, or a trait in a character that’s either an alien, robotic, or evil – a manifestation of their lack of empathy. Think your Sheldon Cooper, your Data from Star Trek, your Lord Voldemort.

Especially for women, it's seen as a symptom of their prudishness, unattractiveness or overall blandness, which needs to be resolved by the end of the plot so they can be complete, appealing, lovable people. After all, being virginal is a good thing, perpetual sexual unavailability is not, particularly when you need a loving sexual relationship to be whole. Even our non-fiction portrayals tend to conform to stereotypes and perpetuate a ‘woe is them’ narrative. And among all of these things, they’re probably white, occasionally East Asian, but never Black. Black people are hypersexualised to the point where that would become contradictory and confusing for the audience. And that’s what I would end up being.

When I first mentioned on social media that I was asexual, I had no intention of becoming a voice for the asexual community. It seemed too unlikely to contemplate. After all, I was a Black gothic student from Berkshire who got sat on at school because I was that invisible. On top of that, my work as an alternative lingerie model meant I was far from the girl/boy-next-door like the asexual activists who had come before me. But, apparently, that's what the community wanted. From there, my activism took off.

I quickly found myself becoming one of the community's most prominent - but unlikely - faces. I used my platform to raise awareness for asexuality, empower asexual people, dispel misconceptions and promote our inclusion in spaces we've traditionally been left out of. From incorporating asexuality into lingerie campaigns, speaking at government institutions, being the first openly asexual person to appear on LGBTQ+ magazine covers, and opening asexual spaces, my work has been intersectional if not a little controversial.

I had never experienced hatred online like I have since speaking openly about asexuality. Only through my work did I become aware of acephobia and the exclusionary discourse surrounding what at first seems like an inoffensive and discreet orientation. It’s shown me how important asexuality activism is, and it’s made me aware of just how diverse, powerful and unique the asexual community is. How they stand up for the rights of others even when we’re ignored ourselves, how they’ll never let their invisibility stop them from developing their own unique culture, history, and progressive understanding of human sexuality and love.

This week is Asexual Awareness Week, an occasion founded by Sara Beth Brooks a decade ago. It’s one of the few times in the year that the community demands to be seen and people start looking.

Don’t miss us, we have a lot to show you.

#yasmin benoit #ace week 2020 #asexual awareness week #ace week #cosmopolitan #asexuality #asexual #asexual pride #aromantic #ace discourse #acephobia #this is what asexual looks like #asexual awareness

[deluluass]

Then, the dam breaks.

Content warnings: rape/noncon; nsfw; dacryphilia; mild infantilization

Kuroo's not a bad person. 

Not even by a long shot. "Bad" is willfully stretching out a leg, hidden like a predator among the bushes; hungry for an unknowing soul who's naively secured with their surroundings and the crack that resounds when face finally meets floor.

Or, murder! Murder is bad, he believes.  

No, Kuroo isn't capable of any of those things. He might seem like he has a mean streak about him. What, with his sharp tongue and that incorrigible self-satisfied smirk (according to Yaku) and his words that may or may not sting like a backhanded slap sometimes. But that's all in good humor. 

Well-deserved, too, when given to the right asshole. And if he does manage to get under the skin of the wrong person, Kuroo's not above offering an apology. 

And he means it. (Occasionally.)

There's no pleasure to be had, if anyone would ask. Because, again , he's not a bad guy. He's sly: he knows that much, though he wouldn't taunt someone into visible pain just for the thrill of it.

There's a method to all this. A purpose. Not a profound one, but a reason all the same. 

So he has to admit he's feeling kinda lost figuring out why, of all people, it just really had to be you. 

There wasn't much of an option to begin with.

Art clubs had already been full. The other ones, you weren't much interested in. And by the time you realized your homeroom teacher would stop at nothing to remind you that this year was your last chance to do something other than study and prepare for exams, for once— well, it had already been too late to reconsider joining those.

Then a flyer was handed out to you.

"V-volley," the boy trailed off. 

Try as you might but you couldn't recognize him. A feat, that, considering his blond mohawk that you could spot among a crowd of thousands. 

He seemed like he'd caught a nasty spell that prevented him from meeting anyone's eyes, even as you deliberately searched his face for any sign that he'd explain himself to you. Surely, he must have a lot to say after he'd outright ambushed you from entering the cafeteria. 

"You...want me to join?" 

You were on the verge of asking for more details, focusing on the black cat (though it didn't look like it) drawn on the center of the curiously damp paper, only to find out that you'd been conversing with an empty hallway. 

A soft grumble left you. 

"Weird," you concluded, barely a whisper. "Weird, weird, weird ."

You were the volleyball team's manager since then. 

"She's not much of a talker."

Lev hunched to his knees again, sounding very much like he's running out of breath.

It should've been Kuroo's cue to gently ( gently) tell him off, that Nekoma's ace would handle a minute of catching a ball with their face with much more tenacity than he does, or that Nekoma's ace shouldn't have to catch the ball with their face in the first place, period.

" Zoning out already, Ace? " he'd planned on jeering, but instead he followed the direction of the overgrown 10 year old's gaze. 

Someone was talking to you. 

Apologizing , was more like it, if the other student's incessant bowing until his torso fell from his body was any indication. You were outside of the gym, clipboard tucked under an arm, so it was impossible to catch a word you were saying.

Not that you were saying much. Or anything at all. You only nodded. And nodded again. And after what seemed like the world's loudest "I'm so sorry, senpai!",you immediately went back inside to refill the water bottles lined atop the bench. 

"Hey," Kenma sighed, the ball in his hand aimed for a toss. "Focus."

And the cycle of Lev being an utter disappointment to the blond setter continued. 

Kuroo let out a noncommittal hum, eyes never leaving you, trailing like a lost pup as you handed out water bottles to Nobuyuki and the others. 

"Not a talker, huh," he muttered to himself. 

How long has it been? Two weeks? Three, maybe? Kuroo could scarcely remember for how many days you'd been showing up to this sweaty pit to perform your duties. On the dot. Always. Without fail. 

What he does remember was the first day.

Chin up; head held high. You strutted into their lives as if you were leading an entire militia to battle and had no time to waste.  

He teased you for it when you'd already busied yourself with clean up duty a few minutes after your (short) ( extremely concise) introduction.

("Slow down there, general," he told you with a wry chuckle. He expected any reaction from you, really.)

(He just didn't expect you to actually slow down on your cleaning and pick up on the Coach's remaining paperwork right then and there, going through it like a forest fire.)

It would take him a few more days to realize that that's just how you are. 

Even when you rejected a tongue-tied Yamamoto when he tried to ask you out. For a meal. With the other boys, of course.

Even when you took a hurtling ball to your leg and lost your footing and had the whole team scrambling for a stretcher, only for you to stand on your good leg, tell everyone "I'm okay," and walk to the nurse's office on your own.

(Kuroo doesn't think he's seen someone limp with so much grace before.)

His throat suddenly felt incredibly dry. 

Water . Water was what he needed. 

Right. 

You didn't see him coming from across the court. You were sitting on the bench and your back was turned, scribbling on that clipboard propped on your lap, yet— like clockwork, your idle hand shot out to give him the last bottle to your left before he could even finish asking for one.

He felt his lips curve as he muttered his thanks around the lid.

"Say," Kuroo began.  

You were reading the things you wrote back to yourself. 

"Mind telling me what was that about?"

You paused. You blinked up at Kuroo. 

The attention hits him like a freight train. 

That clear as summer sky gaze, unclouded and bright. 

It's nuts how unreal it felt. How can something so elusive be now all on him. 

(Just for him.)

"Earlier," he added, licking his lips and feeling silly for the way his chest tightened. "Seemed kinda intense."

"He borrowed my notes," you said. Then back to the clipboard again. 

Kuroo made himself comfortable next to you, elbow propped on his knee as he rested his chin against an open palm.

"Got a test coming up?"

"Cram school. He's in the same class."

Of course .

"Of course," Kuroo grinned. "What happened? Heard the guy apologize to you like you were about to kill him."

Laughter bubbled out of his chest. Unfortunately, you didn't seem to find it as funny as he did. Pity. 

He sighed.

"Nothing too bad, I hope."  

The noise of ballpoint pen scratching against paper halted. 

From way at the back, Lev was prattling Kenma's ear off again. Kuroo guessed they were about to leave, walking away from the court, away from the gym and to god knows where. The whole team, too, for that matter.

Everyone seemed to have gone, diminished in that second. He couldn't hear them anymore, didn't bother to see if they're still there.

He was looking at you, after all. Really looking at you. Your grip on the pen was a tad severe, he thought; fingers determined to squeeze the ink out of the barrel. 

Your face betrayed nothing. Indeed, anyone could spare you a glance and immediately guess that this is just another empty chat between acquainted individuals, conversation just for the sake of it. 

Kuroo wasn't just anyone, though.

Chin up and head held high; as you'd always done. But Kuroo's close enough to see it now, unlike before: the gulps you take in between breaths; the falter in those eyes that only ever looked forward.

Chin up and head held high, but Kuroo sees now that the neck he could easily break with one hand is so tense it's essentially a string pulled too tight that's on the brink of snapping. 

Oh.

"Oh," Kuroo whispered.

Oh .

"He lost it didn't he?" Kuroo realized. "Your notes."

And it did snap.

"Just..!" You looked down and bunched your pants in your fist. "No. Of course not. It's nothing," you huffed, putting the ball pen's cap back on. 

You were leaving.

Kuroo stood up.

"You look upset, manager-san," he said softly, his larger frame blocking your attempts of escape. "It is bothering you, hm?"

"My notebook got-got ruined, sure," you said. "But juice stains aren't bothering me, Captain ."

There it is. You were meeting his gaze again. 

" Too late for that ," Kuroo thought. There's a stutter to your words when there had been none. 

Your arms are trembling and you look  uncomfortable. He should stop. He knows he should stop , but whatever it is he said is chipping away at that impenetrable wall and he doesn't get what's happening now but damn, damn if that tingle running down his spine doesn't feel so fucking good. 

"My bad," he chuckled. "Sorry."

He raised both his arms in a show of defeat. 

"I'm- it's fine," you said through gritted teeth. "If you would just— excuse me."

Kuroo shrugged a shoulder. 

"Sorry about your notes, still," he said. "Must've been important to you. We all know how much you take your studies very, very seriously." 

Kuroo smirked. "You shouldn't have let him have it then." 

That made you stop in your tracks. 

"What do you mean?" you sought, confusion breaking your voice into what sounds like the smallest it's ever been.

Kuroo felt his breath catch in his throat.

"He needed my help, though," you rushed. "I can't just turn people away." 

"Really?" Kuroo sniggered, eyebrows lifting in fascination. 

"Could've sworn you were good at it," he said; whispered it so lowly, you couldn't have heard it. But you did.

You heard him, all right. Loud and clear.

Because it was just like watching someone take a bullet to the heart. 

First, the disbelief. 

Skin, muscles, and ligaments weren't made to be broken like that. A person wasn't created to bleed to death. And when it happens, well, all one can ask is: how could someone hurt me like this? 

So you stand before him, immobile, disbelief written in those wide eyes, because how could he hurt me like this?

Then—

Then, the dam breaks.

Kuroo doesn't think that you know it; that you're gaping at him with tears streaming down your face; that you're falling apart and stripping yourself bare the more you try to temper those quivering lips with that cute little nibbling you do.  

Kuroo doesn't think you know it, too.

That no one has ever been as beautiful as you are, right in that very moment.

You're not a good person.

Not even by a long shot. "Good" is an open hand, warm and soft and prepared to accept anyone in need of it. It's many things, goodness, but it most certainly isn't a dismissive attitude towards a well-meaning person who only wants to get to know you.

You hadn't gone this far in your uneventful life ignorant of what people say behind your back. "Frigid" is one. "Indifferent" on a good day. "Bitch" when someone feels like being mean. 

It's not like you're mad or anything; not as if you'd built up some sort of resentment within you that now you've settled for being perpetually friendless. You have plans, is all. You just can't afford to be a constant helping hand when you've got so much to do.

So you take it. 

Be a sport about it, was what you've always been told. Stiff upper lip, as they say. You remain silent about it and you endure and maybe you shed a few tears later as you lie in bed and maybe you entertain the possibility that you'll never see the end of this loneliness. 

But that's neither here nor there.

The point is, this time shouldn't have been any different.

(But sometimes even the strongest walls can crumble. All it takes is one crack, then the rest would follow.)

It was a bad day. 

You woke up late. You messed up the tally in the first set of practice games. You forgot the homework you'd stayed up all night to do. 

And the person whom you've lended your notes to for the college entrance exams lost it. 

He lost it. Conveniently just a month before the actual thing. 

"I- It's nowhere to be found, senpai," he explained. "I tried looking for it everywhere but- but I.." (You don't remember the rest.)

It's fine, you told yourself. You're fine. You can do something about a little inconvenience like this. You always have.

But then Kuroo Tetsurou asked. 

He's an amazing captain; even someone like you who only had a rudimentary knowledge at volleyball could understand the level of skill it requires to do what he does on the court while still managing to reign in the polarizing characters in this team together. And like most people, Kuroo Tetsurou has never cared for you. 

That's what you'd always thought, concerning him. Even when there had been times when he'd let slip what he thought about you. ("You're so cold, manager-san," he pouted once after you'd refused to eat with Yamamoto and the others.)

So it blindsided you, to say the least. 

The way he looked at you, as if he's privy to your darkest secrets, like he's seen you at your lowest and somehow knows you more than you did. 

When he'd jabbed and poked at what you'd only later realize was already a festering wound. (" It is bothering you, hm?" he said.) And before you could think about telling him to stop, to please, please let it go, it had already happened.

(" Could've sworn you were good at it ," he said.) 

This isn't news to you. Besides, there have obviously been worse digs. 

But hearing it from people who think you're not listening and being told about it to your face are two vastly different things. 

(Maybe it's because deep inside you'd always hoped that not everyone disliked you. That even though you're not a good person, you're not entirely bad either.)

Right in front of you, swift and without warning, he spoke only the truth.

You just weren't prepared for how deep it could cut. 

"I have to go," you murmured.

It took you a few seconds to realize that you'd been crying. And when you did, you immediately wiped your cheek with the back of your hand, turning away from him and the others still engrossed in their drills.

You let your feet do the thinking, allowing it to take you wherever they wished to go ( not here. not here. anywhere but here ), finding it impossible to do so yourself when your vision is clouded with welling tears. 

You moved forward, never once looked back, until you ended up inside the stark darkness of the gym's forgotten neighbor. 

The shed has long been abandoned and had nothing but dust, a couple of furniture in disrepair, and the occasional bug to keep it company. It was good enough for you. You didn't need much anyway.

Except for silence. 

The breaths that you'd desperately tried to control shook like dried leaves hanging onto frail branches, much like your legs, eventually collapsing at the slightest gust of wind. 

All you needed was silence.

Crouched down, the feeling of bones reduced to jelly was a lot more palpable. And despite the pins and needles that you know would eventually appear like a vengeful mistress, you stubbornly pressed your knees closer to your damp face.

Stuttering inhales and short-lived exhales  soon enough filled the gnawing emptiness of the shed as you count back to the moment you'd started the day to when your classmate told you that he'd lost your notebook to when you'd been told of how much of a shitty person you are and you wonder how you would've changed your decisions and how could it have gotten to this point how could it go wrong like this what did I do what did I do wrong what went —

"There you are."

You clamped your mouth shut, clenched your teeth so hard to stop their chattering. How useless. 

The creaking noise of the door being closed— punctuated by the sound of the latch clicking, rendered that effort futile. 

Kuroo Tetsurou locked the door.   

"C-can you," you panted. "Can you please leave."

"I need some time alone," you said, every beat of your heart like the ticking clock of a time bomb. "Please." 

You waited for him to do as you'd told. Maybe what happened earlier was a mistake, a slip of tongue that hurt more than it should've, and he's here to apologize. Of course. That's it, isn't it? Why else would he be here?

"I- If you want to say something, we can- we can— later." 

It was as if the entire world had gone still. He said nothing; neither could you hear any hint of movement. You turned around.

"C-captain..!"

He was right there. 

Right in front of you, crouched and staring right back at you. His face a hair's breadth away from yours. 

Your legs shot upwards. 

"What are you- ah !" You hissed, feeling every cell in your body being incessantly pricked. Finding it impossible to stand on your own, your hands scrambled to get a hold of something, anything, maybe the almost dilapidated table behind you— only to be caught in between large, strong arms.

"Careful, now," he murmured against your neck. His scalding breath like frostbite, chilling you down to your bones until you were numbed from the pain.

He slithered a hand around your waist. With blood thundering to your ears, you bit back a shriek and pushed him away with all your might. But have you forgotten? Despite that indolent swagger of his, you've witnessed how this boy pushes himself to exertion for each match and beyond. What made you think you could win against him? 

And when you attempted to open your mouth and yell, he effortlessly covered it with a palm while hauling you towards the table. The thing rocked under your weight. It is amusing, what the fear of falling does to you. One moment you're thrashing your way out; the next, you're holding onto your tormentor for dear life.

"No one's gonna come for you." He shushed you like how one would when placating a rabid animal. "You really believe they would bother? With an attitude like that?"

Down, down, his hand sank to your thigh, kneading the aching flesh until all you could do was mewl out a hoarse, "S-stop. I beg y-you."

Because it's all that's left for you. No one's going to save you. Or maybe someone would. But, who? And would they, really? 

(Go on, then. Try. See for yourself.)

"Kuroo-san," you whimpered. " S-stop ."

(Would they even believe you? It's your word against his. Him . Their beloved captain.)

"Tetsurou," he only said, dipping his hand lower, wrapping your freezing legs around him. "Say it."

He's everywhere. Lips tracing your chin, teeth grazing your throat; all the while your weak, pathetic arms stayed on his shoulders, thinking he'd regain his senses because he has to. He has to. He's not a bad person. He wouldn't hurt you, not in that way. 

Even when rough palms are already caressing the sides of your breasts and you feel a bulge rutting against your stomach, hot and rock hard and large, his hands grabbing your ass to bring your crotch closer to his—

"Cap- Tetsurou!" You cried, trembling hands back on his chest as you sobbed and pleaded please, please, let me go, I won't say anything, I-I'll keep quiet .

He did stop. But he didn't let you go. (You're a stupid girl if you think he would). Instead, with a forefinger under your chin and a thumb on your lower lip, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze. 

And when your murky vision adjusted to the shadows, the heart that wanted to escape from your chest ceased its clamoring, arresting your breath with it.

The afternoon sun peeked through the crevices of the shed's wooden walls. Red-orange light revealed a pair of iris swallowed by blown pupils, only for it to pass and shroud him back into the darkness. 

"Say it again," he whispered, deep voice cracking. " Tetsurou . My name."

You tried to speak and protest once again but only a croaked snivel left you, your babbling becoming less coherent when he began planting soft kisses on both tear-streaked cheeks. 

"You've been all alone, haven't you? Keeping everything to yourself all this time."

He kissed your forehead and it was so tender you wanted to die. 

"My strong, brave girl," he breathed. "I'll take care of you. I'll take care of you. I- I-"

You heard him chuckle as he pressed his forehead to yours, felt it crease on your skin. "I love you."

No. No, no, no . You shook your head and closed your eyes and prayed to anyone who's listening. 

"I love you," he repeated, strongly now, as if he only realized it this time around. 

And then he kissed you. Just a peck. And then he kissed you again, deepening it to probe a wet tongue into your mouth. And the hand sitting lax on your neck felt like a gun to your temple.   

You remained just as you were, like a plaything to do with as he pleased, as you felt calloused fingers creep inside your sweaty shirt.

"Such pretty tits," he grunted as he raised your bra over your breasts to brush your nipples, rolling and pinching and pulling them with his thumbs.

He muffled the noises you made with his own mouth still when he continued fondling you. You soon enough tasted the salt off of his palm when he left your lips to lick and pepper bites on your neck, on the valley and mounds of your breasts, sucking and lapping the stiff peaks until he was satisfied.

You tried counting, one to whatever. And when that did not work, you tried biting your own tongue to rid of the heat you fear would burst in your belly. 

All that went to waste when he reached inside your pants. 

"Not- not there!" you gasped, breaking your silence and wriggling out of his grasp.

He cooed. "You'll feel good. I promise."

After hooking long fingers over the hem of your panties, he briskly parted the hair and lips underneath to pull the thin cotton over the folds, over the throbbing nub trapped in the middle. 

"Your pussy's so wet, sweetheart," he sighed, the tip of his middle finger drawing light circles on your clothed clit. 

It was so lewd and dirty and the fact that your panties were soaked with slick was enough to burn you with shame.

"You like it, hm?" 

Perhaps you whimpered out a meek "no." You couldn't tell anymore, heaving out while he continued to toy with a sore nipple as he rubbed your slippery cunt, preying on your puffed out, swollen clit.  

"Feel what you do to me." He squeezed your wrist and forced your shivering hand on his crotch. "Take out my cock, baby," he whispered, scattering kisses on your neck.

"Tet-Tetsuro…san," you cried. "I can- I can't."

"Yes. Yes, you can ," he said, not halting the ministrations between your legs. "You're a big girl."

As if held by a string, he guided you, wrapped his hand around yours as he— as you stroked him, scorching and thick, up and down, just like that . 

"Good girl. My good little girl," he groaned, parting your panties to the side to tease your dripping hole. 

You wept harder, the inevitable only a few seconds away from you. A single finger, at first. And when he added a second one, you realized you preferred having a hand on your mouth than his lips on yours.

(Because then you wouldn't have to think of an excuse why you're suddenly swirling and brushing your tongue in time with his.) 

For a while there had been nothing but the sound of two wet lips pursing against each other (along with those embarrassing squelching noises). 

He treated you as if you were made of porcelain, your plush walls stroked oh so gently as he circled the sensitive bundle of nerves. Even when he ended the kiss and removed your hand from his cock, spit and pre-cum connecting you to him, he still handled you as if you would break at the drop of a hat.

That's why it snuck up on you, what happened, after he brought his mouth to your ear.

"Don't scream," he whispered. 

Then, he rammed his fingers in your mouth. 

You tasted yourself as he forced you on your back, slamming you down on the dirty table yet still carrying your weight all throughout, never letting go.

The bitter acceptance of it— that what began earlier can only conclude to this , did not prepare you for the feeling when he finally thrust himself into you.

They say it shouldn't hurt at first. If it does then he's doing it wrong. 

You hardly know if it's relief or horror that dawns on you when you realize how he stretched you out so easily, despite his size. Because, by all means, this should be wrong. This is wrong. 

"Gonna ruin you," he panted. "Gonna ruin you and— fuck put you back together myself."

He grinded his cock inside you deep and slow and when he hit that spot you couldn't control yourself from jackknifing so hard he had to hold you down. He does this mercilessly, pace growing more delirious until you're nothing but a choked and sputtering fool around his fingers.

"I won't ever leave you. I’m here," he cooed, stroking your hair and kissing your face as you bawled and shattered in his embrace. "I’m here ."

"So cry all you want."

#tw noncon #tw non con haikyuu #yandere kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #dark content haikyuu

[joansiefics]

I Actually Just Want To Sleep

NATASHA ROMANOFF X READER

SUMMARY: You have been training with Natasha for weeks on end. She is harsh in training and you barely have time to take a break. So one day it all gets to much for you to handle and you pass out, but luckily someone is there to catch you.

WARNINGS: Fainting, Fighting, Malnourishment

After a long, tiring day at school the bell finally rang making all the students bundle out of the classes, with teachers still trying to get in a few last words before everyone disappears through the doors to freedom. You stood up from your chair and bid your farewell to the teacher as you left class and started your 15 minute walk home.

It was a habit of yours to play your music on full blast through your earphones when you undertook the walk home to take your mind of things - from your day at school to the assignments and homework that awaits you at home. You just barely started listening to 'Nurse's Office by Melanie Martinez' when an uncomfortable feeling made its appearance. You didn't stop listening to your music but you were more aware of your surroundings. Goosebumps were now evident on your skin, but you couldn't make up your mind if it was from the chilly, winter breeze hitting your skin and blowing through your hair or from someone's eyes boring into the back of your skull. You shrugged of the second thought, trying to stop your paranoia.

You started humming to the next song 'Stressed Out by Twenty One Pilots' when a large, coarse hand grasped your shoulder and pulled you backwards, making you lose your balance. You quickly got back on your feet and put up a good fight, one that the man was definitely not expecting which gave you the upper hand. You threw a few punches his way and dodged a few of his, but your last punch knocked all consciousness out of him and he went tumbling to the ground.

You picked up your now cracked phone and straightened yourself up a bit to continue your walk home, unfazed by the fight, when you felt another hand touch your shoulder. This hand was smaller and more gentle than the previous one, but your adrenaline was still coursing your veins and you grabbed the hand, sending the person with a twist of their arm over to the ground. "What the heck do you all want with me!!!?" You yelled out of frustration "I just want to go home, finish my damn homework and sleep, is that to much to ask?!" You don't know why you just asked your attacker this, but you couldn't keep the pent up stress and anger in anymore.

"Are you okay?" The person you flipped to ground asked with a hoarse voice and a following groan as they pushed themselves to get of the ground and brushed of the dirt form their clothes. "Why are asking me if I'm okay, you're the one that was laying on the ground?" You ask very confused at what is happening. "I saw the guy attack you, I was just to late to help you take him down, but I see you took care of him very well" The person says gesturing towards the still unconscious man on the ground. "So you didn't want to attack me?" You ask raising your eyebrow at the person "No, not at all..." There is an awkward silence between the two of you before you introduce yourself, having made up your mind to trust the person: "Y/N...Y/N Y/L/N" you say putting your hand out for the person to shake "Natasha Romanoff" she shakes your hand.

"You really have skill Y/N,  I mean you just flipped and ex-assassin and current Avenger to the ground without even a bit of struggle" Natasha laughs "Ummm... thank you?" You say not knowing how to respond to this compliment, a compliment that no one has ever given you. "Do you maybe want to come back to the Avengers tower with me and I can introduce you to everyone?" She offers politely "Umm, yeah... sure" You mentally scold yourself for being so awkward.

It was a peaceful walk through alley crannies and idle parts of the town to the tower, but you enjoyed the calm feeling. "If you don't mind me asking, how did you get your skills Y/N?" Natasha curiously asked, but not wanting to invade your personal space "I just watched some self defence videos online and practiced them for rare occasions like today" You answer her question.  After a few more minutes of walking you arrive at the tower and enter the building "Here we are" Natasha says breaking the comfortable silence.

You were marvelled by the perfectly planned and designed architecture and interior design and let your eyes roam until Natasha cleared her throat to get your attention. "Y/N, I want you to meet the Avengers: Tony, Bruce, Thor, Wanda, Peter, Bucky, Steve and Hawkeye" She introduces while pointing to each and every one of them. You flushed with embarrassment and shyness as everyone greeted you, you didn't even notice them until Natasha cleared her throat. They already think I'm weird you think.

"So I wanted to introduce her to all of you, because you wouldn't believe the story I'm about to tell you if I didn't bring the key witness." Natasha smirked, knowing that she pricked their curiosity. "Well Y/N over here was being attacked by some old creep-" Before she could continue Steve interrupted her "Is she okay?" he directs the question to Natasha, then he looks at you "Are you okay, are you hurt?" He askes caringly. "I'm fine, thanks?" You say, still unsure why everyone is making it such a big deal. Natasha gives Steve a daring look, one telling him to shut his mouth for the rest of the story or he won't see dawn, before she continues: "So as I was saying before I was rudely interrupted... Y/N was attacked. I saw the fight and was on my way to go help her, but she knocked him unconscious before I could get there. I just wanted to make sure that she was alright before I left and I approached her form behind and tapped her shoulder. She caught me off guard and flipped me to the ground as well..." she took a small pause before exaggerating her statement "SHE flipped ME!!!"

Everyone wore a look of shock on their face now, which confused you even more "Why is everyone making such a big deal out of this?" You ask, not able to control your ignorance any longer. "Do you know what you did?" Tony asks "Did I do something wrong?" You ask still not catching the drift. "No, no, no, no, not at all... you just, ummm... well you flipped an ex-assassin, not many people are able to do that" Tony answers with a proud smile, even though he just met you, you made him proud. "What would you say to being an intern at the tower and train with us and then when you're ready, you can become one of us, you can become an Avenger?" Tony asks. This question definitely caught you off guard and you were gawking at him in surprise and excitement at the same time "Uhh, ye...yeah, sure....I would, ummm.. I'd ummm love...that" you manage to croak out. "Great, you start tomorrow after school" Tony says as he leaves the room and the rest of the team, except Natasha, follows after him.

The next day after school, Natasha came to pick you up and took you to the tower. You went up to the training room and once again took in all your surroundings. All of this felt like a dream to you, you couldn't believe that the Avengers wanted to train YOU. "You can get dressed into your training clothes in there and then we can start with your first training." Natasha said as she directed you to the bathroom.

The first training was something to experience. You were tossed from one side to another, making your head spin, you were punched and kicked and bent into awkward and uncomfortable positions - if this was the first training, you didn't even want to know how the next one, or the one after that, or the one after that would turn out. When you returned home, exhausted and sweaty you took a shower and immediately started on your homework and assignments that had to be done the next day, you were so busy that you even forgot to eat something and barely got some sleep.

Your days continued like this for at least a month. Your brutal training sessions included 4 hours of training directly after school, then one break of 10 minutes to eat, drink and catch a breath and another grueling 3 hours of training. By the time you got home it was nearly 21:30 and then you still had to complete all of your homework and assignments. By the time you were ready for bed it was 02:00 in the morning and you would get three and a half hours of sleep, before the next cycle of exhaustion started.

But the end of this routine was in sight, you just didn't know it yet. You were currently in your third hour of training with Natasha for the day and to say you were tired would have been an understatement. You couldn't dodge any of her punches, grab any of her kicks or maneuver yourself out of the death grips she held you in. "You're slacking" Natasha said sternly but yet concern covering her features. "I'm sorry, I guess I'm just really tired, but we should keep going, my break is in an hour, then I can rest" You said, not wanting to sound weak. You were given this internship and you were not going to disappoint Tony for giving you the spot. Surely if you had told Natasha about your lack of sleep and little eating she would have given you more breaks and less hours of training, but you never told her and that is why you were in this never ending cycle of enervation.

"Y/N, you should go home and sleep, we can continue tomorrow" Natasha spoke. "No, I'm fine, I can do this...please" You almost begged. The proposal of Natasha sounded so welcoming, but you couldn't stop now, you had to keep on training, you had to prove to them that you are worthy of being an Avenger. Natasha gave in and you both got into your fighting stances and you began training again. No matter how hard you tried to concentrate on dodging the punches, you just couldn't and one last medium blow to your jaw sealed the deal.

Your vision went form clear to blurry, decorated in black spots dancing in your eyesight. A wave of nausea hit you harder than a punch from the strongest super soldier. You could vaguely hear Natasha calling your name, almost as if you were underwater, before the earth started slipping from underneath you, though the fall didn't come. Your mentor, friend and motherly figure, Natasha, caught you in her arms milliseconds before your skull collided with the earth's lithosphere. Maybe she called your name again, but you didn't know. You were in good hands and let the unconsciousness consume you.

After you fainted, Natasha ordered FRIDAY to notify Bruce to get to the infirmary and rushed with you still tight in her arms to Bruce. Once she got there and put you on the hospital bed she told Bruce everything she knew: "We were training, but she wasn't dodging any of my punches or blocking my kicks so I told her she's slacking and she just told me that she's really tired. Then I told her to go home, but she wanted to keep on training and the next I know she starts falling to the ground" Natasha says trying to get her breath back. "Did she hit her head?" Bruce asks, concern of a concussion crossing his mind "No, I caught her right before she hit the ground" Natasha says with a proudness in her voice. "Okay, I'll stabilize her and then I'll do a few test on her to see if there are any other factors aside from tiredness that could have caused it." Bruce said getting to work.

Why is it so bright? When did I change my alarm sound? Am I even in my bed right now? These thoughts were all crossing your mind when you first got your consciousness back. The bright fluorescent lights were making it near impossible for you to open your eyes and you could only get as far as a squint before closing your eyes again. After a few more minutes your slowly open your eyes again trying to grow accustomed to the brightness. You let out a groan when you finally open your eyes fully and see that you are hooked up to all sorts of tubes and a heart monitor

"You're awake" Bruce says in a cheery tone, happiness apparent on his face. "What happened?" You croak out from your parched throat, furrowing your brows as you try to remember how you ended up in the infirmary. "You passed out while training with Natasha" Bruce answers, but the look on his face tells you that he wants to ask you something but he's to afraid to hear the answer. "There's something you're not telling me" You say, slightly scared at what he might say What if they don't want me as an intern anymore... "I promise I'll get back to training as soon as possible, please just don't take the internship away from me" You ramble quickly. "Is that why you haven't been eating or sleeping enough? Are you afraid that we won't like you or take the internship from you?" Bruce asks concerned

"No, well kinda yes....but no." You answer not sure how to approach the doctor in front of you "I'm going to need more than that Y/N" Bruce says, arms crossed over his chest. Just before you can start explaining Natasha walks into the room. The moment she sees you awake she rushes to your side and gives you a warm, comforting hug, but careful enough to not rip any tubes from your skin. "I'm so glad you're awake, how are you feeling?" She asks. She would never show this side - the soft side - of her to anyone, but you brought out the best in her. "I'm a bit tired, but I don't have any pain" You say. "She was just about to tell me why she hasn't been eating enough, but now that you're here and you're her trainer, she can tell both of us" Bruce says giving you a stern, disapproving look.

"It's not that I wanted to starve myself, I just didn't have time to eat." Natasha makes herself comfortable on the foot of your bed as you continue "Since I started with the internship I haven't had the best routine. I would wake up at 05:30 in the mornings to get ready for school, after school I would come here and immediately start training, then in my 10 minute break I would eat something for the first time that day, then get back to training. Then when I got home, I would take a shower and start with my homework and assignments, usually I'd finish at about 01:50 in the mornings and then I would brush my teeth and go to bed."

"Why didn't you say something Y/N? I could've changed your training schedule for you" Natasha says "I didn't want you guys to think that I couldn't handle all this and then I would never be able to become an Avenger" You say out of defeat "We already know you can handle all of this, what's important now is that you focus on living healthy once again, okay?" Bruce asks "Okay... thank you guys"

#natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #nat romanoff #romanoff #malnourished #bruce banner #bruce banner x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #hulk #tony stark x reader #tony stark #steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rodgers x reader #natasha imagine #Spotify

[rudystopit]

Looking for Someone

[aizawa x f!reader]

summary: aizawa is a PI looking a missing person. he notices a young women looking around the places the missing person was last seen. he starts following her.

warnings: nsfw, eating out, brat/tamer, unprotected sex, and overstimulation. 

wc: 5k

He sat inside his car. He would never the noticed the nasty smell of rotting food and his own body order. Old coffee cups, fast food wrapping and Chinese take out littered his passenger seat. He sat deep into the seat with a camera to his face.

He took pictures of a 19 year old girl, walking down the street. See that sounds weird but Aizawa Shouta is the best PI in the lower boroughs. His greasy hair is always tied up and his scuff leaves unshaved until he found it annoyingly long. He never seemed to smile. He always working on some case and buried himself his work.

This case was a missing college junior. Her black hair and deep brown eyes are plastered all over the city. The host parents contacted him after the police said it was likely she was dead. he never liked the police, that’s why he never became one after high school.

He clicked a few more photos of the girl before exiting his car to follow her. Her hair bounced as she walked down the busy street. She had been visiting the last places the missing girl was at. A small cafe, an old bodega, a drug store, and a bookstore. She had been down here five times in the last three weeks. She ordered the same green tea and walked to the other places. Aizawa figured out her name is y/n l/n. she’s a student at the local college. Art major. She had some pretty good pieces in the local art show last year.

He followed her into the cafe. She ordered her tea and walked to the other end of the cafe. She pulls out her phone and scans the cafe. Her deep e/c set on his. She smiled and went back to her phone.

“Black coffee,” his deep, raspy voice rang out. His eye contact never leaving the young woman’s figure. He soaked in every inch of soft small body. Her eyes darted over the screen.

“She’s pretty, right?” The young kid on the other side of the counter said. This snapped Aizawa out of his daze. “She’s been coming here more often. I hope she’s single,” the kid laughs, looking at the young woman. “$3.50”

He gave the kid a five and walked over to the other side. Her tea was done and she thanked the worker and walked out the cafe. His coffee was done a few seconds later. He didn’t want to lose her so he swiftly walked out as she quickly turns around and runs square into his chest. Her hair smelt like vanilla and it was softer than what he imagined. She backs up and apologizes profusely. She asked to buy him a new drink and grabbed napkins to clean off the tea and coffee.

“It’s fine, I need to shower anyways,” he jokes. She looks at him not laughing. after awhile of silence, she checked her watch.

“Shit, I’m late, I’m so sorry again,” and with that she was off.

Aiwaza climbed back in his nasty car and drive. She doesn’t know anything. It’s just a coincidence. He went to a small diner on the outskirts of the city.It was an old ma and pop diner with the old red paint and faded sign saying “jersey’s.” The ring above the door rang to announce the new arrivals. He sat in the old booth by the front windows. A woman in a yellow dress uniform walks over.

“Good morning, Shouta,” the young woman’s voice rang. He smiled and looked at her. “The usual?”

“Good morning Anne, yes, Ricky in the back?” He asked.

“Sure is. we were just joking that we were gonna put a ‘Shouta Special’ on the menu,” she laughed, scribbling down his name. Ricky knew what that meant. Black coffee, eggs, hash and hot sauce.

“Ha, no one wants what I eat,” he laughed as Anne walked into the back. Aizawa pulls out a notebook and a case file. He flips open his notes to scribble off Y/n’s name.

The pencil hovered over the beautiful name. Something about her perfect hair and shining eyes that put a weird feeling in his chest. She feels familiar to him yet also new. He had felt this before but never this intense.

There are never coincidences in this line of work.

He looked over his papers and shoved the food into his mouth. Anne sat down in the other booth. She liked watching him and today was slow and the other waitress said she needs the tips.

“So Shouta, tell me about this one,” she said.

“Missing person,” he mumbled scanning over the papers. His face stayed in a scowl and his eyes were dull until he thought he found a clue.

“Sometimes it helps thinking out loud,” Anne said, pulling the papers out of his face.

“Saito Yui, she’s a college student. Straight A’s. Pre-med. She’s top of her class. Barely parties. No boyfriend. But she misses Saturday brunch with her family. Then misses a hang-out with her friend, then classes on Monday. Police say she left. There’s no evidence that she was taken. No enemies. No stalkers and she never got on any one’s bad side,” he says. “There’s this girl though. She’s been in all the spots that Yui was before she went missing,”

“Do you think she knows something?” Anne asked, leaning in.

He pulls out his camera. He clicks through the photos and turned it to her. She took the camera in her hands. she looked at it with focus. Like she was trying to read her.

“I hope she’s innocent,” Anne finally said, handing the camera back. Aiwaza looked at her puzzlingly. “She pretty and has a lot to live for.” Anne always knew what to say, even if it wasn’t correct. She slides out of the booth. “See you tomorrow Shouta,” she waves and disappears into the back.

He looked back at his notes. The only connection between Yui and y/n was that they had a class together on Thursdays. Intro to sociology. He decided he would go and sit outside the class and wait for her to come out.

He watched the college kids walk around him. A lot of them didn’t notice him and the ones that did shot him a dirty look. The wide doors open and a young woman comes walking out out in a tennis skirt and a pull over with the college name printed on the chest. Aiwaza watched as she walked away. Her h/c bounced with each determined step. he leans off the wall and makes his way to her.

“miss l/n.” she wipes around and stares him down. her eyes held such intensity, it took aiwaza back. “i have some questions for you.” he says.

“aren’t you the guy from the cafe? are you following me?” she beginning to walk away from him. he reaches out and grabs her soft wrist.

“please it’s about yui saito,” his grip tightens as she pulls away.

“let go creep,” she spat. “i barely know the exchange student. she lived in my dorm, that’s all i know,” and she turn away.

aizawa sat on a bench and pull his head in his hands. “god i know this job is hard but i know she knows something.” he mumbled to himself. he got up and walked to his car. the young y/n was leaning against it on her phone. he walks up to her.

she looks up at him. he unlocks the car and climbs in hoping she was gonna move. she opens the passager side door. he looks at her with a questioning look.

“you’re right i know more but i wasn’t gonna tell you in the middle of my college campus,” she says with her attitude. he moves all the trash to the back seat and she jumps in. “your car reeks,” she says rolling down the window and pinching her nose.

“shut up brat.” he pulls out of the parking lot and goes to jersey’s.

“do you want to know what i know?” he glared at her. “then be nice,” the whole drive y/n was staring out the window. she watches the old victorian buildings turned small business fade into the american suburbs to a ratty diner in the middle of nowhere.

“jersey’s? never heard of it” she says sliding out of his car. she stretches her arms and heads to the door. aiwaza glares at her as she walks in and talks with anne. she shows her to his usual booth and pulls aiwaza aside.

“she’s way pretty in person,” she laughs. her tone drops to a serious one quickly, “reminds me of someone,” aiwaza knew exactly who she was talking about.

about 10 years back, he was working a case and meet a spunky accountant looking for something fun to do. she somehow became a target for some under organization and sadly she didn’t make it. but aiwaza had ready fallen in love with her. how her brown hair flowed in the wind as she always rolled down his windows. or how she always insisted that if he wasn’t going to dress professionally that she was. and she stuck to it. always wearing pencil skirts or dress slacks. aiwaza missed her but the woman sitting in front of him definitely had her attitude and curiosity on life.

he stay there and watched y/n look threw the menu. she mumbled to herself and pointed at some names. she twitches her nose and scrunches it up as read the descriptions. Anne comes over and takes her order which was just a plate of fries.

“are you sure?” anne asks. y/n just nodded. “black coffee i’m guessing?” she looks over at aiwaza.

“yeah,” he lets out. anne rushes away. “what do yo know,”

“well i was going through her stuff and i saw a necklace from this weird jewelry store downtown and it’s 100% a cult. i think they took Yui,” aiwaza sighed and leaned back.

“i know and they didn’t. i talked to them and they said they remember her buying the necklace but she didn’t join their pray list.” he rubs his eyes and looks at the woman.

her eyes looking over every inch of him. he felt his cheeks heat up a little. he pulls his hands on the table as she about the grab them anne comes with her food and his coffee.

“her host family said she didn’t seem like the type of girl to just leave without telling anybody,” he said bring the cup to his mouth.

“do you shower?” she asks in such a cheery tone. aiwaza chokes on his coffee and coughs. “maybe that’s why your not married,” she takes a fry into her mouth. “because you stink.” he hears anne laughing behind him.

“i shower and i’m not married because i don’t have time to meet anyone,” he glared at her.

“well the waitress seems to know you really well. you should ask her out,” aizawa’s cheeks gets red.

“shut up brat,” he puts down some cash and starts to get up.

“i’m sorry, please let me help you,” she asks.

“no,” he makes his way to the door.

“please! i promise i can help!” she follows him.

“no, do you need a ride back or can you walk?” he asks before getting in his car.

“yes i need ride. and i’m sorry for asking if you shower and saying you stink. please i want to help you. i’m really smart. i can help you,” she begs.

“fine,” he says driving back to the school. y/n talked the whole way about things she noticed about yui saito. like one time at a party she didn’t even drink or how she always showered super early in the morning.

“what’s your name?” she asked before getting out.

“aizawa,” he answers, staring at the students watching a young woman get out of his car. his cheeks flushed at the thought of what they were thinking.

“aizawa,” the way she says his name. silky smooth and he wished he could hear it again. “aizawa!” she yelled. he snapped to look at her.

“what brat?” she held her phone out. he took it and quickly punched in his number. He hands back the phone. She quickly sends a little hi.  

“I’m guess you already know my name, but I’m y/n,” she smiles and walks away.

Aizawa drives home and flops onto his couch. He stares at the ceiling and thinks about  today’s weird events. he thought about her h/c and how her eyes sparkled with curiosity. she is a smart girl. she beautiful in every sense of the word.

he didn’t even realize his hand slide down his pants. he was hard. he let his hand drift up and down the outline of his member. he thought about y/n’s voice and how she said his name. he thought about her spunky personality. his hand slips into his boxers. He closes his eyes and thinks about her small hands and pink lips. his hand moves across his hard cock. he inhales as he picks up the pace. he thinks about how soft her lips would feel against his. he thinks about if she was virgin and how tight she would be. his hand quickens. light moans escape his lips. he thinks about how she would look on her knees. he imagines her sucking him off. he clenched his jaw as his cum rolls down his knuckles.

he gets up and washed off his hands. his phone buzzes.

he rolls his eyes and opens the message.

he rolls his eyes and tosses the phone onto the table. he liked the little banters. he liked how she’s willing to speak her mind. he turns on the tv and flicks through the channels. NCIS. sure yeah not. he goes and makes himself a small dinner and sits at the table looking over the papers for the case.

‘yui didn’t seem like the girl to just leave without telling anyone,’ the host parents said. maybe she did tell someone or at least write a note. y/n said she went into her room. he wonders if she found something in there besides the necklace.

aizawa didn’t go to bed till early in the morning. so waking up and going to deal with the ever so cheery y/n was going to be a fun treat...

he threw on a tattered black t shirt and some jeans. his jet black hair pulled into a messy ponytail. the bags under his eyes could have held a weekend vacation worth of clothes. he got into the nasty car and drove to the cafe.

he saw her standing outside on her phone. her thumbs texting away. he was always so amazed at how fast teens can type. he got out and walked over to the distracted y/n.

“let’s go in,” he says in his deep raspy voice. it makes y/n jump slightly. his voice sends a shiver to the butterflies in her stomach. she follows in behind him. he orders his coffee and waits for y/n to order. he looks over his shoulder at her. his dull eyes looking into her bright ones.

“oh umm a chai tea,” she said walking closer to him. her shoulder brushes up against his. he looks down at her. her eyes dart around the cafe. she soaks in the area and walks to the pick counter.

“what did you find?” he asked while they wait for y/n’s tea.

“oh, yui used to write poems in her free time. one of them talks about a heart broken girl dropping everything and moving to colorado and starting new. she mets a wonderful man and they feel like they’re living the dream until one day he gets violent.” the guy calls out her name and she goes to get the tea. she drops her sleeve for her cup. she bends to get it, completely showing off the light blue panties. aizawa coughs and turns away. “sorry,” she says and sits down, “why is your face red?”

“nothing,” he shakes his head. “how is that a clue,” he watched as she brought the hot cup to her lips. she slowly sipped on it so she wouldn’t get burned.

“do you look at my underwear?” she laughs. “i knew you were an old creep,” his face drops into a scowl.

“shut up brat,” he said through gritted teeth.

“it’s fine, i don’t mind,” she said, scrolling through her phone, “here. i think she wrote that poem about him,” she shows him a picture of a 23 year from her school. he has his arm around yui’s hip. “that’s henry. they were seeing each other at the beginning of the semester, but one day yui comes in with a huge bruise on her arm and people asked he what is was about and she just answered with some vague thing like ‘oh i fell’ which is totally bullshit,” she takes another sip of her tea. “wanna try?”

“no i’m good,” aizawa answers. “do you think henry hurt her and she left to get away from him?” he watched as she typed something out on her phone.

“hm? yeah totally. i mean if i was getting pushed around by some frat boy i would totally disappear too,” she looks him square in the eyes. a little hue goes to aizawa’s face. “are you sure you don’t want to try it? you look like you only drink bitter sludge and gross greasy food for every meal,” she leans across the table.

“i’m serious. i’m fine with my bitter sludge,” he laughs. she smiles.

“i like it when you laugh. it’s calming,” she says. the phrase comes as a surprise to aizawa.

“aww you got a crush on an old man like me,” he says getting up. “come on kiddo.”

she gets up and follows. “maybe i do,” she whisper to herself.

“stop mumbling,” he says waiting at the door. they walk across the street to his car. “did the poem say anymore?” he asks unlock the car.

“i don’t know. i only got through a few when i texted you,” she said getting into the passenger side. she didn’t have her smile. he looks over at her. she stared out the window. her eyes didn’t have the spark of curiosity.

“what? are you mad at the joke? i’m sorry,” he said, started the car. she picks up her phone and quickly typed out a message and it sends with a bing. she rested her arm on the window and leaned her head against it. “y/n. seriously what happened? you were all jokes and laughing seconds ago.”

“it’s nothing, aiwaza.” with that he stopped asking. they drove in silence to his apartment. she followed him up the old stairs and he unlocks the green door. “cleaner than the car,” she laughs and flops herself on his couch.

“i guess make yourself at home...” he throws the keys on the table. he opens his laptop and looks up yui’s name. her twitter came up and he read through her poems.

‘even when he would yell

i would think about those mountains

how i could easily get lost in their trees.

how even if i never made it home,

the mountains would be there.

then i’m reminded

even the mountains can hurt me.’

“not the best one she’s written,” y/n says standing behind him. he’s snapped out of daze. she was leaning over his chair. her hair tickling his neck. her breath prickling his cheek. she smelt of vanilla.

“i wanna see you do better,” he sneers.

“hmm, your car smells like,” she brought her finger to her chin. “trash and you’re pretty much ash, and i think you have a rush, but your snash comments don’t bother me.” she laughs.

“haha real funny brat,” he rolls his eyes and looks about at the computer. y/n still laughing at her little poem. he reads through some more poems.

“did you ever check the ct tv camera or whatever?” she asks sitting on the couch again. “isn’t that like the first thing to do?”

“i did,”

“and?” she looks at him. he’s not looking at her. he was reading the poems and looking through pictures. y/n stands up and walks to him. she gets close to his ear and whisper “and?” his large hand covers her face and pushes her away.

“there was nothing,” he said as she scowls are her. he gives her a side glance. she was mad at him. “what?”

“you’re rude,” she huffs.

“what you wanted me to kiss you?” he laughs and looks back at the screen.

“maybe,” she mumbles.

“stop mumbling,” he says, not breaking away from the computer. “if you’re gonna say something, make sure i can hear it or else what’s the point in saying it.”

she moves to him. she yells “I SAID MAYBE YOU RUDE OLD MAN” he stops and his face goes pale. he swallows a hard lump. his heart is beating in his ears. y/n’s face gets all red. “um, sorry i’ll leave,” she starts to the door. tears fills her eyes.

aizawa gets up to stop her. he grabs her wrist. “don’t joke like that,” he pulls her close to him. “but please stay,” he wipes her tears.

“it’s not a joke,” she whispers. she looks up at him. he’s eyes soften. he kisses her forehead. she leans up to kiss him on the kiss but he moves away.

“i’m old enough to be your dad,” he goes back to the computer. she sits on the couch and goes on her phone.

“you cant be that old,” she says, breaking the silence. he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t want to ruin something as precious as her. “45?” he doesn’t answer. “50?” she gets up and sits across from him. leaning on her hands. she narrow her eyes. “23?” he looks up at her with a ‘really?’ look. “i know, i know, guess give me an answer,” she whined.

“no,” he scrolled along.

“40?” she says. still no answer. “100?” no answer. “fine i’ll look you up.” he looks at her. “aizawa... shit... what’s your first name?” she looks around for another with his name on it. she sees a pile of mail on the counter. she quickly lunges toward it. he gets up to stop her.  she grabs a piece before he could stop her.

“y/n!” he yells.

“what no brat this time,” she sneers. she looks at the piece. he tries to snatch it way. she leans against the fridge. he quickly grabs it and raises it above his head with the rest of his mail. “give it back!” she yells and jumps for it.

“it’s my mail!” he laughs. she grabs his collar and stands on her tip toes. she reaches for it. he places his other hand on the fridge to keep his balance. “stop y/n! you won’t get it!”

“i’ll stop when you tell me how old you are!!” she says trying to climb him.

“stop being a brat. i’m not going to tell you how old i am,” he smiles as he watches her try to get the mail.

“make me,” she stops and looks him in the eye.

“you’re playing a dangerous game, y/n.” he puts the mail on top of the cabinets and walks away. she instantly start climbing on the counter. he grabs her hips and pulls her done. he bear hugs her. “STOP IT!”

“NEVER!” she bites him. he lets go, “just tell me how old you are.”

“jesus, fine, 41,” he sighs and sits on the couch. she sits next to him.

“that wasn’t so hard now was it,” she laughs.

“you’re an absolute brat,” she leans her head on his shoulder. he puts his head on top of hers. her hand plays with his hand. tracing each vein and knuckle. she laces her fingered with his. he doesn’t pull away. all he does is whisper “please y/n, we can’t-“ she cuts him off by kisses his cheek.

“we’re two consenting adults. why can’t we,” she whines. she shifts to sit in his lap. she laces both hands together. he tries to control his breathing. he looks over every inch of her body. she just looks down at him. she leans down and kisses him. she puts his hands on her hips. her arms snake themselves around his neck. he breaks away.

“are you sure?” he asks.

“yes,” she breathes out. she leans back down and kisses him. his hands travels up her shirt and he undoes her bra. she pulls away and strips off the shirt and bra. he starts kissing down her neck, leaving red and purple marks. one of his hands moves to grope the soft flesh of her boobs. y/n arcs her back against his hand.

aizawa shifts and flips her onto her back. he gives her a quick peck then he leaves trails ok quick little kisses down to the waist band of her skirt.he wraps his fingers around the fabric and looks up at her. y/n nods.

“use your words bunny,” he says kissing her stomach.

“yes, please,” she says, tangling her fingers into his hair. aizawa pulls off her skirt. he smiles at the light lacy panties. he slowly slides them down. he kisses the bottom of her stomach. y/n’s hand yanks the collar of his shirt. he quickly takes it off. she sits up and creases every inch of his body. she soaks in all the little scars and muscles. he grabs her wrist and kisses the top of her hand. he leaves a trail of kisses down her arm and to her mouth.

y/n puts her hand back on his chest and pushed him back. she straddles him. she leans down and gives him light kisses everywhere while her hand slowly drifts to his pants. she rubs the forming bulge. he sucks on his teeth. she smiles down at him.

“damn you too good for me,” he whispers.

“damn right old man,” she laughs. he rolls his eyes and sits up. he pulls her closer. her clit grazing over his jean covered dick. she moans into his ear.

“fuck,” he whispers. her hands drive in between her legs and undoes his jeans. he chuckles. “so impatience,”

“shut up,” she sneers. he picks her up and brings her to his bed. he tosses her down. he pulls down his pants. “hmm boxer briefs guy,”

“i’ll leave..” he says. she laughs and pulls him onto her. they kiss and his hand makes it’s way to her heat. he spreads her folds. she moans into the kiss. he smiles. he drags his middle fingers from the bottom to her clit. y/n rolls her hips to his touch. he rubs small circles into the bud. she smirks under him.

“aizawa please,” she moans.

“shouta,” he whispers. his finger hovers over her entrance.

“hmm?” she looks up at him. he slides his finger in. she moans and grips onto the bed. he  kept his hand still, feeling her clench around him.

“my first name,” he whispers. she thinks for a second and opens her mouth to say his name, but he starts moving his fingers causing her to moan it. she hits his arm.

“you purposely did that,” she pouted.

“so what if i did,” he leans down. y/n can feel his breath on her ear. “i want to hear it again.” her face gets all flushed. he moves his finger at a slowly pace. after awhile of little mewls and light breathing moans, aizawa slips his ring finger in.

“shouta~” she moans out.

“that’s it, good girl,” he picks up his pace. she continues to moan. aizawa kisses her collarbone and attaches himself to her boobs. his tongue expertly swirls around her hardened buds. her hands tangled in his hair. she feels the knot in her stomach come undone as she comes on his fingers. he pulls them out and looks at them. she looks at him.

“don’t,” she says. he’s eyes flicker at her. “please don’t,” he smiles and sticks his two fingers in his mouth. he closes his eyes and moans.

“mmm sound good,” he teases. she throws a pillow at him.

“you suck,” she whines. he lays down on top of her and kisses her. she wraps her arms around him. he slides his hands down and brings her legs up. she wraps them around his waist. he sides his hand down his underwear and brings his harder dick out. he teases her entrance before pushing the tip in. she moans into the kiss.

“fuck you’re so tight,” he hissed into her ear.

“what? ever fucked a college student?” she laughs. until he slams his hips into her. she cried out in pain. “god, your a lot bigger than you seem, shouta,” she moans his name which makes him want to fuck her into the bed.

he pulls out them slams back in. “you better take it with out complaints. you’re the one who’s been asking for it,” he says threw gritted teeth. she does this breathing moan that sends him over the edge and into an absolute feral mindset. he holds himself up on his elbows and just pounds y/n into the bed. her moans turn into screams of pleasure as her legs squeeze around his waist.

the knot in her stomach reappears and she clenched around his dick. “fuck y/n, beg to come you fucking slut,” he groans out.

“shouta please.” he trusts even deeper. “fuck. god please shouta let me come on your huge dick,” she whimpers out, feeling the knot in her stomach snap.

“omg yes, y/n,” he moans as her pussy clenched around him. her beautiful moans escape her lips as her face shows nothing but euphoria. her pussy sucks him in, clenching around him, trying to milk him. he lets out a grunt as he paints her velvety walls white. he weakly thrust a few more times before collapsing next to her. he pants as she rolls over and puts her head on his chest. his large hand pets her hair as she falls asleep in his arms.

He whispers to himself,  “you’re the one I’ve been looking for,”

#bnha aizawa #aizawa x reader #shoto aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa smut #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fanfiction #bnha smut #mha #mha fanfic #mha smut #fanfiction #my hero fanfic #fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academy smut #my hero academy fanfiction

[sweeethinny]

Second son

Summary: ‘You ran away from home?’

‘When I was about sixteen,’ said Sirius. ‘I’d had enough.’

‘Where did you go?’ said Harry, staring at him.

‘Your dad’s place,’ said Sirius. ‘Your grandparents were really good about it; they sort of adopted me as a second son.’

or

Sirius runs away from home, and we see it through Euphemia Potter's eyes.

kind of inspired by @questions-forthe-marauders perfect art! HERE

AO3

-------

December 23, 1976 - 5:25PM

Euphemia did her best not to cry when Minerva's letter arrived at her house.

‘’Mia,

I know what I'm going to ask of you is totally irrational and you have every right to ignore my request and yell at me, but I don't see any other way out.

I've been noticing for a few weeks that Sirius has been acting weird and seems to be distant from everyone. A few days ago I noticed a bruise on the corner of his mouth, but I can't tell if it was a fight with his brother or someone else, you know how boys are at that age.

Anyway, I've noticed that it's been a few months since his detention has been signed by his parents anymore, and I've tried contacting them but Dumbledore keeps saying there's nothing to worry about - you know him, he's terrible at times.

I think there's something wrong with him, and I know Sirius comes to your house during the holidays because I always hear James talking about it, so I came through this letter asking that if you notice anything strange, please tell me. Or talk to Sirius to see if you can find anything.

I'm very worried.

Love, and I'm sorry to bother you with this,

Minerva.''

It hurt her heart more than she thought it would, noticing that the signs Minnie had said were all right there under her nose. James hadn't said anything about Sirius coming for Christmas, and he'd been there for two years now, even though she felt a little bad that he wasn't with his parents on that date. And James looked weird too; he was angrier than usual, and reluctant to talk to them and getting locked in his room.

When they were at the station, Mia noticed that Sirius had got off the train alone and looked guilty, not even looking in their direction as he walked over to where his parents were - who didn't look at all happy with his presence there.

He had already told Monty a few times that his parents didn't like him going to Gryffindor, and James had once told her that Sirius didn't get along with Regulus. But Euphemia always thought it was silly things that teenagers took too seriously, but now, she felt she should have given more importance to the signs.

“Sirius isn't coming?” she asked when she saw James coming down the stairs, an unusually sulky look.

"I don't know," was all he said, walking into the kitchen and leaving her alone in the living room. Her heart clenched, a bad feeling burning in her chest.

"Didn't he tell you anything?" James always liked to talk about everything with Euphemia, Monty said he was a big mama's boy, but she didn't mind at all. As long as he was going to look for her to get her opinion, Euphemia would be only too happy to help him.

"He just said he didn't know if he was coming." James walked out of the kitchen, a glass of milk and a cookie jar under his arm, but when he threatened to go back up to the bedroom, she stopped him.

"Come here." James didn't like being confronted, he'd inherited it from her, and he used to frown when someone demanded answers from him. But Euphemia had no choice but to do that, so he was going to need to spit it out. ‘’Is something going on? Did you guys fight?” she asked, folding the letter and placing it on the coffee table with Minnie's name down, not wanting James to know she already knew. This made it difficult for him to speak.

"No." He sat up, sullen as he always was when she did that. James didn't meet her eyes however, and that was a red light for her. He was one of those people who didn't mind looking anyone in the eye unless he was lying.

‘’You know you can talk to me, don't you? I care about you two.”

"We don't…" He sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back against the sofa cushions, the glass of milk and cookies forgotten on the coffee table. ''He was being an idiot the last few days, I don't know what got into him, but I was ignoring it because I don't know, he gets like that sometimes when he and Regulus fight, but then the christmas thing came up and I said if he continued in that mood he wouldn't be welcome here,'' James denied, pulling his hair angrily. ''I thought he'd know I was joking, of course he's welcome here, but then he got mad and told me he wasn't coming to bother me this year, and I yelled that it would be great so… I got mad, I wasn't thinking… so he got out of our wagon and went to Merlin knows where. I only saw him when we got off the train, and he was already going with his parents.'’

‘’Oh, son…’’

''I know I shouldn't have said that, but he was being an idiot, and now... I hope he doesn't hate me.'' Euphemia wanted to go to that hideous Black house to drag Sirius under her wing, force him and James to talk and make up, and bring him in with them. But Monty had already told her that this was illegal.

"He doesn't hate you, son." She opened her arms for James to hug her, stroking his hair and thinking about what she could do with the situation. "Did you say he and Regulus had a fight?"

"They...um," Of course James was too faithful to tell her about that. Too noble to betray his best friend. ‘’Kind of a fight.’’

“Does Sirius often fight with him a lot?” She remembered when they had once met Walburga and Orion at an event, and only Regulus was with them.

"Where's Sirius?" she had asked, because it didn't make sense to take just one child. And Sirius was what, twelve or thirteen at the time?

"He preferred to stay with my sister," Walburga said, smiling bitterly at Euphemia as if silently telling her not to meddle where she wasn't called.

She swallowed, thinking maybe she was seeing trouble where it didn't exist. Maybe he really wanted to stay with his aunt, she couldn't prove otherwise.

‘’Send him a letter later inviting him to our Christmas, okay? If you want,” she said, looking once more at Minnie's letter on the table.

"Fine."

December 24, 1976 - 10:54PM

It was snowing like never before outside, probably the coldest night this year so far, and the house was silent when she woke up to noises outside.

Monty jumped out of bed, wand in hand, just as she had, heart pounding in her chest and a motherly fear of protecting James at all costs from whatever was out there.

Ever since they declared support for muggleborns and as she and Fleamont began to increasingly advocate for minorities and help organizations of students who couldn't afford to buy supplies and clothing for the Hogwarts school years, they were marked as a target for the other traditional families, carrying a huge red flag where ''traitors'' was written in bold letters.

Euphemia couldn't care less about that, she was more than happy to be considered a traitor if it meant she was doing good.

“What was that?” James muttered, haunted brown eyes staring like he was going to war.

Her son didn't go to war, though, not when he couldn't even drink yet.

‘’Stay in the room, and get the portkey. Anything, use it!” She instructed him, but James seemed too stubborn to accept that. "James, enter your room now, and stay there."

“Three is better than two.” He continued to follow them, Monty further along and having already made a protective barrier between him and her and James.

‘’Not when one of them is fifteen. Now come in and stay there, me and your dad let's see what's going on.'

''Mom-''

"Don't make me need to use magic to get you to do what I want." She said authoritatively, and that caused James to fall back a few steps, looking at her startled. Euphemia mentally thanked him for that and walked downstairs, thinking that later she would apologize for talking to him like that, but that's because she wasn't risking her boy in that situation.

Monty raised his wand and opened the door, ready to attack whoever was there on the other side, but before he could, Sirius raised his arms and closed his eyes as if he too was waiting to be attacked. ‘’Sirius?!’’

‘’I'm sorry, I-’’

''What did we do on our last trip?'' Fleamont asked, and as much as Euphemia thought it was unnecessary - please just bring the boy inside he'll freeze! - she knew they were in the middle of a war.

''You tried to learn to surf with me and James, but you nearly broke your ankle when you fell.'' Sirius kept his arms raised, and she noticed that his lips were purple from the cold, and that jacket didn't seem to warm him. She didn't even wait for Monty to lower his wand and went over to him, pulling Sirius into their house and hugging him tightly, wanting more than anything to take away whatever inner pain seemed to haunt him.

He looked too terrified for a sixteen-year-old boy.

"What happened, Pads?" James ran up to them, looking worried about him too. ‘’You didn't even answer my letter and-’’

''I...I ran away from home.'' He shrugged and avoided looking her or Monty in the eye, Euphemia realized he had a backpack on his back. Her heart ached so much that she couldn't stop the tears. She pulled Sirius even tighter against her. "Mia, if I can't stay here, it's okay, it's just that I came walking-"

‘’Did you walk all the way here?! It's almost an hour and a half of walking, boy!” Monty yelled. "Someone could have tried something against you."

''It was okay, I,'' Sirius looked at James, and she knew he wasn't telling her all the details and he'd probably done something against the law to not die in the snow, but she didn't care about that now. "It was the first place I thought of coming."

‘’Of course, dear, of course. James, make him a hot bath, and Monty heat up dinner… are you hungry, Sirius?” He nodded, cheeks burning with embarrassment. ''Here, come sit in front of the fireplace… And of course you can stay here, please, I don't even want to think that you thought I wouldn't accept you.'' She sighed, walking with him to the sofa and taking off the wet jacket he wore, waving her wand so that the nearly extinguished fire began to crackle again, warming the room. "You can live with us Sirius, don't worry, you don't have to go back to those horrible people anymore." His gray eyes blinked with tears, and it was probably the first time she'd seen Sirius cry. ‘’Don't worry honey, you're fine now…’’

----

‘’Minnie,

I'm so glad you warned me about this, and I understand your concern.

Sirius ran away from home last night, he didn't want to tell us what happened and I think at some point I'll know, but the boy looks terrified now.

He's not okay, but he's going to be. And I've already sent a letter to Dumbledore telling him that now anything that happens to him is to call us.

I don't think Walburga or Orion will complain, they let their son run away in the middle of a blizzard and so far they haven't looked for him. But it's better this way, Monty would probably kill them if they showed up at our door.

You know that we always wanted to have one more child anyway.

With love,

Euphemia.’’

#james potter #marauders headcanon #marauders era #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #sirius black #my fic #the marauders era

[fluffi]

MY DETENTION BUDDY :: JAY

pairing: jay x gn!reader genre: fluff, badboy!jay, highschool!au, friends-enemies-lovers!au word count: 2k event: for @lovesick-net​​ and (early) jay day 200421 <3 author’s note: simple little one-shot for jay’s birthday (i wont be uploading anything for his actual birthday). i had to speedrun this fic because i kept changing the plot and this hasnt been proofread twice (unlike my other fics) T-T i hope it’ll still work out. warnings: (reader makes one bad decision)

Ring...ring...ring...ring..ring…

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring

Ringringringringiringringringring.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRRI-SLAM!

The alarm clock stopped its boisterous wailing

10 more minutes. I don’t have to style my hair today.

Thirty minutes passed.

RIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRIRI- SLAM!

Ugh. I’ll just miss assembly.

RIRIRIIRRIRIRI-

This time, the ringing stopped before he could slam his hand over the alarm clock.

“Jongseong, do you not have school today?” Jay could only make out a bush of black that stood above him as he sat up, dazed and drowsy.

“Yeah, I do. I’m about to get ready. Why?”

“It’s 9 am! You should be at school! At this point, you don’t even have to go anymore.” His mother huffed in disappointment.

It was an exaggeration, but she had a point. School started at eight in the morning. It was already an hour later but he was still sitting in bed.

“I’ll get ready now. 10 minutes. Good to go.” He shooed his mom away, already running to the bathroom to wash up.

“I’m leaving now Jay. You know darn well that I have an important meeting today and I can’t miss it just for you to not get a tardy. Heck, you’re already late! You’re-”

“Mom! I can’t walk to school! It takes too long.” Jay whined as he brushed his teeth, his muffled voice interrupting his mother’s speech.

“Young man, stop interrupting me. I told you a week ago about today’s event and it’s not my fault that my oldest son can’t take care of himself. You’re going to have to take another mode of transport, you’re old enough to deal with this yourself!” With that, his mother stormed out of his room, her feet obnoxiously thumping on the floor.

“I’m also your only son...” Jay muttered. 

Of all days, why did she have to have her meeting today? Monthly evaluations aren’t that important. Dangit, I should’ve been taught how to drive. Jay returned to his rapid multitasking, grabbing his school uniform while washing his face. He didn’t even look twice,

After taking the quickest shower he had ever taken in his entire life and shoving all of his essential (what he determined as essential, at least) belongings into his bag, he opened to door and dashed outside only to be met with…

Rain.

Rain everywhere. Drenching the front yard’s perfectly tended flower garden and creating heaps of watery mud. It was pouring at 9.15 am. There was thunder and occasional flashes of light zooming through the clouds. The city was in shambles.

Not like, shamble, shambles. It was shambles in Jay’s opinion as he groaned and stomped his way through the rain.

Screw school. Screw this stupid rain, screw my alarm clock, screw this-

“Dude, why are you running in the rain? You’re soaked. Are you heading to school?” A pink-haired boy in a red Ferrari shouted from across the street.

Jay sighed in relief, immediately running across the road to said Ferrari. “Choi Yeonjun. You are a life-saver. Could I get a ride real quick? I’ll pay back for engine fees and for soaking the inside of your Ferrari with rainwater.”

“Hop right in, and don’t worry about returning. Let’s have some fun with this baby.” Yeonjun smirked and revved the engine, swerving past cars and buildings like it was a little RPG game.

At this rate, I’ll make it to school in no time.

“Dude, I’m so sorry. I guess you have to walk.”

Just as he thought things were taking a better turn, Yeonjun decides to show off his new driving skills and zooms through roads at a rapid speed, so fast that he crashed the car by a tree. It was a miracle that both of them didn’t get hurt but as far as Jay was concerned, he could worry about that some other time. This was just slowing him down on his long and tedious journey towards his form of hell.

On the bright side, the rain had stopped and the sunshine was back as if nothing had happened.

“I’ll get going to school.” Jay internally groaned and started sprinting in the direction of his school.

“Hey, at least I helped you get closer to school! Didn’t I?” Yeonjun shouted from behind and coyly smiled.

Such a boastful punk, Jay thought. “Whatever, bro!” He turned back and gave his older friend a quick wave before dashing off.

“Park Jongseong! You’re late...again.”

“I’m aware.” Jay didn’t spare his English teacher an eye and slung his backpack over the chair, about to take a seat.

“Stop giving me attitude, I’m your teacher.Why are you tardy for the fourth time this month?”

“Alarm clock.”

“Alarm clock what? Are you afraid to speak up? I don’t see you acting like this in the hallways.”

Jay looked down at his feet and sighed before side-eyeing his teacher. “Overslept, okay? Sir if you could just let me off the hook you would be able to proceed with your Shakespeare nonsense.”

The entire class snickered. It was no secret that Jay loathed Mr. Jung, the English teacher. Who didn’t? Mr. Jung treated every student in school like they were incapable toddlers and it was a wonder that anyone would dare to stand up to his stupid remarks. Jay’s carefree attitude towards his horrible teachers was one of the reasons why he earned so many fangirls.

Not like you were one, of course. You watched as he pulled his chair out and sat next to you out of the three other vacant seats at the back of the class.

Mr. Jung rolled his eyes and continued writing on the blackboard. “Also, Jongseong,” he added, “you’re wearing your school shirt the wrong way round. See you in detention for your tardiness.”

A few of the girls in a few seats in front of him whispered rapidly, although whispering didn’t stop Jay from finding out about their gossip.

“Lol! So much for being the bad boy of our grade. He looks like a wreck today.”

“I know right? I wonder what the other fangirls will think of this. Should we send the pictures to the fan club?”

The second girl giggled. “Yeah, duh. Name it jay-park-wreck-images.”

So much for my reputation. Jay could only roll his eyes as he pulled out his supplies, ignoring the camera clicks coming from the seats in front of him.

“Oh, yay. At least I’ll have a detention buddy now.”

Jay eyed you up and down like your statement was some sort of monstrosity. “Detention? You, detention? Pfft.” He laughed.

“Yeah, Jay. Me, detention. Why are you so happy about it? Glad to be stuck with another girl?”

“What, no-no. You just...don’t seem like the type to be in detention. How’d you get it?”

“This..may be kind of embarrassing, but...” You turned to the side and Jay gasped.

On the sleeve of your uniform was a...rabbit? It wasn’t too obvious as to what the marker doodle was but it was apparent that you had intentionally spent time to draw on it.

“Look, I was bored in assembly this morning and found a spare marker in my pocket! Don’t judge, we all know how bad assembly can be.” You blurted just as Jay was about to ask why you had done what you did.

“You could’ve just drawn on your hand or done something else with the marker.” Jay sighed and shook his head at your dumb decision.

“I was out of my mind, okay? Ugh, Assembly always drives me nuts. I got called out for for the horrendous ink bleed when Mr. Jung saw as I walked into the classroom. He said it ‘didn’t follow school guidelines’.”

“For once, I agree with Mr. Jung. It was a stupid choice, you know? If you didn’t draw on your uniform then you wouldn’t have to go to detention now.”

“Jay Park, the bad boy of school, is telling me to be a rule abider. Biggest twist of the century.” You rolled your eyes.

Jay frowned and turned back at you, losing that little spark in his eyes that he once kept. “I’m not a bad boy you know? I just don’t like the system in place here.”

“As if anyone is going to believe that. Go hang out with another girl of yours. I’m not here to be your toy.”

“People like you are the reason why everyone thinks I’m a bad person. I thought you were different, you know?”

You had been preoccupied with taking notes for class, but now you looked at him with squinted eyes. “Well, I am different. Different as In someone who doesn’t fall for your useless charms. Go suck up to your fangirls or something.”

Jay rolled his eyes and scooted away from you. He thought he had been lucky to meet you, but he guessed not.

You always do this, you idiot. You were so close to making a new friend.

You put your hands in your head and side-eyed Jay, who seemed to be struggling as Mr. Jung blurted out an entire unit’s summary.

The boy hadn’t brought any stationery and was definitely on the wrong page of the textbook. You figured that he was this disheveled from his absolute lack of planning but you still felt bad.

His hair was a mess, it was still damp from the rain before. If only you could help him style it…

Why do I want to touch his hair? That’s weird and gross.

You were so occupied with thinking about Jay that you realized that he was still struggling in class.

Maybe you could make things better.

“I’m sorry.”

Jay was struggling to find the page you guys were on for class when a pencil blocked his view.

“What do you want?” He said as he tried to look past your pencil swinging.

“It’s a pencil for you since I realized that your table is practically empty and you’re going to need something to take notes with for later. Also, it’s page 153, not 53.” You leaned over to help him flip the pages.

“Oh, that makes so much more sense. I was wondering why we were relearning unit 3 when finals aren’t even near yet.”

You raised your eyebrows, looking up at a relieved Jay. “So you do pay attention in class.”

“Of course I do! I’m a student. You should stop using that stereotype on me.” Jay frowned and a tinge of disappointment shadowed his face.

“Right, I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to work on it, it’s rumors and assumptions that have built up over the past few years and I understand that it shouldn’t get in the way of our friendship.”

“Friendship? We have a friendship?” Jay chuckled and cocked an eyebrow up, teasing you.

Maybe it was that eyebrow slit or the weird tension that was building up between the both of you. You felt your face heat up. “I mean- yeah, friendship. Are we not friends?”

“I don’t know, hun. I thought we were something more.”

“Um...best...friends?”

It was perfect timing as the bell rang and you immediately started packing things into your bag, eyes glued to the clock instead of the amused boy next to you.

Jay laughed, running his hands through his blonde locks and watching as you started running out of class, your eyes occasionally looking back at him to see if he was still staring at you.

“See you in detention!” He called, drawing the attention of your classmates.

Jay Park needs to learn how to shut his mouth. Everyone was now staring at you and you were flustered, embarrassed, shocked, and confused. The weird mix of emotions were driving you nuts. All you could muster was a little nod and you dashed out of there as fast as you could.

“Today we’re going to learn about Murphy’s Law. It is where anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

“But everything that can work, will work.” Jay raised his hand and added, sparing a glance at you jotting notes in the back of the classroom, oblivious to his reference towards you.

“You’re right Jay. Murphy’s Law works both ways. Reversing it is considered part of science…”

Today morning was a storm (figuratively and literally) and everything seemed to be going wrong for Jay. Murphy’s Law prevails. but there’s always a rainbow after the storm. You were his rainbow and his lucky charm.

2021 © fluffi

#lsn.works #lsn: lucky or unlucky #kpopscape #kdiarynet #kdiner #hybenet #enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #jongseong imagines #jay imagines #enhypen imagines #park jongseong imagines #jongseong scenarios #jay scenarios #enhypen scenarios #park jongseong scenarios #jay fluff #enhypen fluff #park jongseong fluff #jongseong fluff #enhypen #jay park #park jay #park jongseong #jongseong #enhypen jay #jay enhypen

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Mist | Choi San | Chapter 6

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 14k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

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Seohyun woke up with a groan, her head feeling heavy. She opened her eyes, blinking as the events of last night came to her. San was no longer here though. She checked her phone, and there was a text from him, saying his parents had called him.

After a shower and a cup of coffee, Seohyun sat in front of the television, thinking what she was gonna do. It was Saturday so they had no school, and she'd caught up on her sleep. She wanted to go out, but it was risky. The ghost- that evil, evil thing could turn up anywhere. Plus, she had no idea where Gayoung and Youngjae were.

Seohyun bit her lip as she thought about solving this problem; there was no way this ghost would come to her senses with mere words. It didn't look like she had faith in god anymore too, so a simple exorcism would be difficult. So what could she do? She had never dealt with such a dangerous one before, someone who was hell-bent on killing her.

And this time, it made sense why the ghost wanted to kill her so badly. All the evil ghosts she'd encounter in her life had never had an actual reason to harm her except being angry at life and whatnot. But this woman; what she had said made sense. And if it was true...

She wished there was another mediator she could consult with. But there was the matter of it being an inherited-once-dead thing. She could consult with the shaman she knew. Maybe he could help her communicate with a wise old ghost who'd actually give her a few tips.

The ghost's words rang in her ears: Don't tell me you didn't know? When a mediator dies, there is a short time period during which there is no other mediator in the world. That's when ghosts can do whatever they want; trespass, interact with humans, and much more. She cursed the previous mediators for not making an account of their knowledge and findings. She made a mental note to write a mediator guideline for the next unlucky person.

Seohyun got up, deciding she'd go to the shaman herself. No point waiting; she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible. The shaman was not too far from where she lived. She would take a taxi, just to be safe.

Seohyun was wondering where those two siblings had disappeared off too. She had allowed them to come and go as they pleased; it was unusual for them to be gone so long. Seohyun reached the place where the shaman lived after 10 minutes, getting off and finding the doors locked.

"Just my great fucking luck," she sighed, going to the market right in front of that place and asking if they knew where the shaman had went. She found out he had moved recently. She mentally cursed herself for not keeping his business card with her; she would have to go home and check if she still had it. She usually made some other use of business cards, such as making airplanes and boats out of them. Her origami was going to be the death of her.

Seohyun was just calling for taxi when she felt her heart sink in, realizing the evil ghost was near. She quickly stepped into property instead of hanging around the street, but nothing appeared. Maybe she was going insane, finally.

After waiting for two solid minutes, she was about to sit in the taxi when she heard a voice say:

"I saw that pretty boy leave your house in the morning."

Chills ran down her spine as she finally met her eyes with the ghost. "And what of it?"

"I found it interesting that he has the sight. I was wondering how that could help me."

"What do you mean?" Seohyun paused- this was not happening.

"He can see me. He thought he saw me in the morning but I hid. So I, with the help of those two kids who were too scared to disobey me, led him somewhere. And if you are a decent human, you'd follow me."

"You're lying."

"Go ahead and check if I am," she countered.

With a wildly beating heart, Seohyun pressed call, once, twice, thrice. He was not picking up. She texted in the group chat if anyone had been in contact with San since today. And everyone replied they hadn't.

Seohyun sighed in defeat as she said, "Lead the way."

The woman howled with laughter, making Seohyun grit her teeth and want to strangle her, but she walked, taking her god knows where. Seohyun tried to ask if she really wanted to kill her, and if so, why wasn't she already doing it. Why wait?

They were out in a clearing, near the expressway where cars and trucks rushed in full speed. What was she gonna do, attempt a ritual? Seohyun didn't understand.

"Just tell me where San is. And don't even think about hurting me. You want me, you have me."

"Oh dear," the woman walked towards her, and Seohyun tried to keep her calm as she grew closer, circling her once before whispering in her ear, "I don't have you. Not yet."

Seohyun winced at her foul breath, the woman raking a nail across her neck, drawing out blood. "I can't give you a mortal wound. I can only hurt you so much. That's why you mediators have it so easy."

Even if Seohyun's neck was on fire from the pain, she felt a spark of hope in her heart. That would mean she could run- she could escape.

"But that doesn't mean I can't do it indirectly," the ghost smiled, baring her brown teeth, and it was the evilness in her eyes that made Seohyun gasp as she realized.

She had been stupid- but she had no guarantee that San was safe. That Gayoung and Youngjae were safe. She couldn't run, not exactly. The woman flicked her hand, and Seohyun winced at the sound of a car crashing. She turned sharply; the car had hit the truck. The car had crashed the other way, but the truck-

It was tumbling and was coming right for her- unnaturally.

Seohyun forgot about everything else and ran, but somehow the woman was able to control the movement of the truck. She jumped in an attempt to dodge, the woman was cornering her. She had no choice but to step on the road, but one of the speeding cars failed to dodge the crashed car and struck it, skidding across the road and hitting Seohyun with a tremendous force that sent her flying before her head hit the traffic barrier and everything went black.

The woman laughed even as she cried out in pain. She had emptied the last of her powers on this crash, and she screamed as she felt herself burn from the inside out. But Seohyun was surely dead- she had to be. If she was dead, this wouldn't happen to her.

The woman screamed one last time before disappearing into thin air- this time for good. But it was no good now. Seohyun lay unconscious on the road, bent in a painful angle as people surrounded her and called an ambulance. A student checked her pulse; it was growing weaker by the second.

Seohyun was rushed to the hospital as soon as the ambulance arrived; her heart flatlined once before she was revived again, having escaped death from a hair's breadth. She was put on hold for her surgery as they called her mother for consent.

Her mother had rushed into the hospital- face streaked with tears. She had only had time to touch her face once before she was taken to the operating room, and she sat on the waiting chair, motionless. Her friend, Aunt Yuri that Seohyun had always liked, had comforted her mother, making her drink water and relax a bit. All they could do was pray.

Seohyun's phone, which was now in Yuri's hand, rang. It was Yunho. Yuri picked the phone, inquiring if he was a friend, and when he assured her that he was indeed a close friend, Yuri revealed the accident to him.

Yunho had almost dropped his phone as he heard, terror washing over him as he realized it must have been the evil ghost's doing. He washed his face, sighing as he tried to control his trembling hands. He was not ready to lose a friend.

Yunho called and told each of their friends individually, keeping San for the last, frowning when he did not pick up. He decided to go to his home and check. Before he reached his home, he found San walking outside the house as if looking for someone.

"San, hey," Yunho rushed to him, "Why weren't you picking the phone?"

"I lost it, but then Gayoung and Youngjae admitted they had hidden my phone. I was just going after them; I don't know why they'd done so. What's wrong?"

Yunho bit his lip as he thought of how to reveal it to him. He told him then; Seohyun had been in an accident, and she was under surgery now. They weren't sure if she was gonna make it.

San put a hand to his head, shaking his head in disbelief. "Was it- is it because of the ghost?"

"Not sure," Yunho said, "But seeing how Gayoung and Youngjae hid your phone, it must be. Seohyun was trying to contact you all day."

"Shit. Shit!" San punched the air in frustration, his lip trembling. How had it come to this?

"Which hospital is she in? I need to go."

So Yunho and San took a taxi to the hospital, and Yunho kept a hand on San's trembling one the whole ride. He seemed intent to keep his calm. When they arrived, they asked the reception for Seohyun and rushed to the floor she was in. They saw two women right outside the operating room, and figured it had to be Seohyun's mother and her friend who'd picked the phone. They sat on a distance, and San put his head in his hands as they waited.

Yuri, who had noticed the two boys, came towards them, asking if one of them was indeed Yunho. "We're praying for the best, but the doctors say it's risky. You both should head home, this surgery might take a while."

"It's fine," San finally said, "I'll wait."

Yuri raised a brow but then nodded, saying she was going to grab some coffee for Seohyun's mother and she'd grab some for them too. After drinking and some comforting from both sides, having found Seohyun's mother fallen asleep, the boys decided to get some air.

They walked in the hospital garden which was pretty big, lit by several lamps, and some of the patients could be seen sitting or walking. San's eyes were on the ground; he was afraid if he looked up he'd cry.

Yunho patted San's back and he put his face in his hands, sighing. He'd never imagine this. And the way Seohyun had been last night, so scared, he should have known. The things she said, he should have believed it wasn't just her being paranoid.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa came along with Yeosang; the rest lived too far away and couldn't join at this hour. Yeosang looked visibly pale and he kept rubbing his hands as if he felt cold. Upon asking, Yunho told them she was still in surgery, and yes, her mom was here with a friend too.

They sat in the garden. Seonghwa had bought some sandwiches from home; he knew some of them wouldn't have had dinner yet.

"You should eat, San," he said, "We don't know how long the surgery is gonna be. It's no good if you're on an empty stomach." He handed him a sandwich and San halfheartedly nibbled on it. The rest of them were pretty much silent too, at loss for words. They found comfort in just being together.

After finishing, they decided to go up and check the situation and maybe go back home to sleep. San dusted his clothes as he walked, and stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a familiar voice call his name.

"San."

The rest of them paused, looking back at San, whose eyes were wide with terror. "What's wrong?" Hongjoong asked.

San dreadfully turned back as if not quite believing, and the water bottle he'd been holding slipped out of his hand.

It couldn't be.

In front of him was Seohyun, unscratched, smiling sadly.

She was a ghost.

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

"Seohyun?"

San couldn't believe his eyes. Seohyun stood unscratched in front of him, but it was not her. It couldn't be. She was in an accident, how could she be in front of him like this?

A cry of pain escaped from Yeosang as he realized, covering his ears as if that could mean he was wrong. Hongjoong and Seonghwa looked at each other, and Yunho stepped towards San, stopping when he found him staring in the distance.

"How are you... here?" San managed to ask, walking towards her, but she took a step back, leaving San's hand dangling in the air. His brows were furrowed in a pained expression.

"I don't know, San," Seohyun said, smiling sadly. San went for her abruptly, and his hand went through her.

"No... This can't be...." San's knees gave out and Yunho rushed to him, massaging his back as tears finally escaped his eyes. He sat down, his face in his hands, now almost touching the ground. Seohyun bent near him as if she could touch him.

"It's my fault," San sniffed. Yunho wiped his eyes, looking back Hongjoong- pale with shock, Seonghwa clinging to him, holding Yeosang's trembling hand.

"It's not your fault. It's that witch's fault. And you have to listen-"

"It's mine," San whispered. Seohyun bit her lip as she began to speak but was cut again as he said, "I'm sorry I didn't pick your phone."

"I know what happened, don't worry-"

"I'm sorry-"

"CHOI SAN LISTEN TO ME FOR A SECOND!" Seohyun shouted and San jerked, forcing his head up to face her. "I don't think I'm dead. Not fully, at least. You have to go and ask the details."

"What do you mean? You're a ghost, doesn't that mean-"

"Maybe not. Please do that."

San nodded, explaining to the others that there was a possibility she was alive, though it did not make sense to him. They started walking to the building, and Seohyun said, "And please wipe your faces. Don't show that you know anything. I don't want my mom to know that I'm a ghost, even if I'm dead."

San winced at that but did so, and they went upstairs in the waiting area, where Seohyun's mother was crying. Yuri was patting her back but looked okay. Upon seeing San and Yunho with other friends, she whispered something to Seohyun's mother, who casted a glance at them and nodded, and Yuri walked to them.

"Seohyun's alive for now. She's in a coma. The surgery was successful but this was unavoidable, so we can expect her to return sometime within 3 months or more, depending on Seohyun now. Can't say anything about that. You guys should go home. They'll let you see her tomorrow."

Seohyun sighed in relief despite herself, and the boys finally managed a smile and asked San if she was here. San nodded, looking at Seohyun. She smiled happily now for San's sake, but he was still gloomy.

"You're gonna smile back or I'm gonna haunt you in your dreams, Choi San."

San let out a short laugh. "I guess you can do that now. Let's go out."

They went to an empty street and San asked Seohyun what had happened. She told him how the woman had used San as a bait for her to call her out. San told her that Gayoung and Youngjae had only taken his phone, assuring her he'd been home all day. Seohyun assured him it was still not his fault, that sooner or later this would've happened.

"So where's the ghost now? If you're still alive, won't it come after you again?" Seonghwa asked.

"I'll have to ask around," Seohyun said. "I can actually teleport now. I'm gonna try and find Gayoung and Youngjae. They must have been pretty scared if they did her bidding."

"Stay safe, Seohyun," San said, and Seohyun brought her hand near his face as if she meant to touch him.

"I will. Don't worry. Go home guys, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, we'll tell the others too now," Yunho said, "They'll be shocked."

"San, please tell Yeosang to stop trembling. I'm alive!"

San looked at Yeosang. He still seemed pale and his hands wouldn't stop shaking. So he did what Seohyun would have done for him; took his hands in his own, telling him it was alright. Seohyun was alive.

"I just can't believe it," Yeosang said, "For a second- when you said her name- I thought-"

"Yeah, I know, me too," San admitted. "It's alright. She's okay."

They waved her goodbye as they went home, and Seohyun cursed as loudly as she could, now that no one could hear her. Then she decided it was time to teleport to that hill, Gayoung and Youngjae must be given an earful.

She closed her eyes shut and imagined being sucked into space. The familiar tingling sensation ran from the top of her head to the tip of her toes; one moment she was here and the next, cold wind hit her face. She was there.

She peeked into the 'cave', basically a home to the ghost siblings. She found them sitting with their knees close to their chest. It was crazy how much they were like each other.

Seohyun cleared her throat and walked in, and the two of them stumbled back, almost falling.

"Are you alive?

"Are you dead?"

"Neither," Seohyun replied, "I did not know going into a coma would make me a ghost."

"Seohyun, I am so sorry-"

"Don't," Seohyun put a hand in the air, shutting them up. "Just tell me what made you do this."

"She threatened to hurt our parents. She knew where they lived. They're who we're staying here for, if she hurt them... I'm sorry," Gayoung looked down in shame.

"She actually asked us to 'take care' of San. We didn't promise her anything, just that he wouldn't interfere," Youngjae added.

"Well, thank you for that," Seohyun smiled, sitting near them. "It must have been hard for you both."

The two of them looked at each other, on the verge of crying.

"I swear if a tear falls down your faces, I'm personally gonna kick you out of this ghost realm."

Gayoung laughed a little, quickly wiping her eyes, and Youngjae did the same. They were just kids, Seohyun thought. They shouldn't have had to think it was their fault or anything.

"But what happened with the witch?" Seohyun asked.

"After she thought she killed you, we saw her screaming. We had just teleported to you when we sensed you were in danger. She just... vanished. And this time I mean like dissipated in the air like ashes. I guess she died again..." Youngjae said.

"Wow. Serves her right!" Seohyun sighed in relief.

"Did you meet San?" Gayoung asked and Seohyun nodded, looking grim.

"I don't think you should leave him alone tonight. He's gonna take this badly."

Seohyun's heart sank. She was right. Seohyun expected San to be alright, but that was just her own expectation. She wasn't actually so sure he would be.

"I don't know where he lives," Seohyun said.

"We'll take you to her," Gayoung said, holding out her hand to her and squeezing it, muttering an earnest thank you. Seohyun nodded, and they teleported once again.

It was an average looking house, much like the ones along the whole street. But somehow it felt more like a home than Seohyun's plain house looked.

"Do you think I can enter?" She wondered out loud, and Gayoung grinned.

"You should try. You should be able to since you're a mediator anyway."

Seohyun shrugged, taking a careful step forward. Indeed, she was able to enter. It seemed like she did have special benefits being a ghost. "I feel like I'm intruding."

"Oh he's your boyfriend, just go," Gayoung waved her hand at her, dismissing her as Youngjae grinned, wriggling hi brows at her. The two snickered, waving bye and teleporting back.

Seohyun stood awkwardly at the front door, afraid she'd be intruding their privacy. She paced back and forth, wondering if she should call San, or just go up and give him a little scare in the process. He probably wasn't in the mood for fun and jokes. She'd seen his face when he'd thought she'd die, and it was something she wished she could erase from her memory.

While she was biting her nails in confusion, she heard the front door open, and for a second, she panicked. But it was only San.

"I saw you from my window," he said, holding the door open, "Come in."

Seohyun bit her lip and nodded, entering. San closed the door behind him and led her upstairs. They went past his sister's room before entering his. Seohyun looked around, his love for plushies obvious by his large collection.

"Which one is Shiber?" Seohyun asked.

"That one," San pointed at the bed. It was a shiba plushie. San slept with it, it seemed.

"Poor thing," Seohyun grinned. San gave her a little smile as he motioned for her to sit. He sat on his bed and Seohyun brought the chair close. "Not how I thought I'd come to your home."

San shook his head, looking down. Seohyun almost leaned forward to touch him until she realized she couldn't. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not, to be honest," San began, meeting eyes with her, "I really thought you... were dead. When you appeared like that. I'm still not over that feeling."

Seohyun felt guilty. She'd found herself a ghost at the site of the accident, right when they were taking her to the hospital. She'd made it there, but she couldn't bring herself to step inside the hospital. She'd spotted San and Yunho from there. "I'm sorry."

"Oh no, you don't have to be," San shook his head, "Not your fault. I just wish I could... touch you right now. Hold you so I'd know you're real and it's not me going crazy."

"I know San," Seohyun almost whispered, "Me too."

They looked at each other sadly, and Seohyun put her hand in front of him, and for a moment San thought she was gonna ask for a high-five. "Put your hand here," she said.

San put his hand forward, and before he could touch, Seohyun pulled hers a little back. "No touching. Just... close. Like this," she put their hands close until there was only a hair's breadth of distance between them. San could have swore he could feel her warmth.

She smiled at him and drew her hand back. "The sibling duo was threatened by that bitch too. I feel sorry for them."

"That explains," San thought, "they didn't seem the type to just turn away like this."

"They apologized thoroughly. But it's okay now. It's only a matter of waking up from that coma... If I can make it."

"Keep your hopes up," San scolded and she smiled sheepishly. "How do you feel though? I mean, now that you're... a ghost. Does it feel any different that being a human?"

"I don't exactly feel weird inside," Seohyun realized, "But there does seem to be something different about this world now. It's like there's a veil over my eyes. Everything is a little cloudy now. Like I have bad eyesight."

"Does that mean you can't see me clearly?" San wondered.

"No, it's like there's a filter now. You know like the ones in the camera where you can decrease the clarity? That's how it feels. Weird."

San nodded. "Will you sleep?"

"I honestly don't know," Seohyun admitted. "I'll watch you sleep though. Maybe that might put me to sleep."

"I don't think I can sleep with you watching me," San huffed. Seohyun let out a short laugh and asked, "Do you want me to go?"

"No- stay. Please," he said, getting up to turn off the lights so there was only light from the little lamp on his desk. He lied down on his bed, facing her, watching her as she stood by the window, peeking out.

She was a ghost, San thought. He wanted her to wake up as soon as possible. He wasn't sure if he could live if Seohyun, god forbid, died and remained a ghost. He couldn't even imagine it.

As if sensing his thoughts, Seohyun turned, staring at him for a moment, those cheekbones pronounced in the shadows. She walked towards him slowly as he watched, and dropped to her knees in front of him, resting her head on the little space on the bed near San, and he crouched too, until they faced each other. She tested once, let her hand hover over his, putting it on top of him- but it passed through, making San shiver a little. So she drew her hand a bit back, until it almost touched at the fingertips.

They stared at each other, and San's eyelid drooped, shutting as he fell asleep. Seohyun closed her eyes too.

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

Seohyun must have actually fell asleep because when she awoke, when she opened her eyes, she was not in San's room but in front of her body, lying still with tubes coming out of everywhere. Her mother was sleeping rather uncomfortably on the sofa.

Her mother. She looked disheveled, and it made Seohyun gasp a little with surprise. She had always seen her so composed, so calm and full of control. She couldn't bring herself to go to her mother when she'd seen her crying of relief, back when they'd heard that her surgery had been successful.

She was glad that her Aunt Yuri had kept her company. She would have to thank her when she woke up. If she ever did. Seohyun shook her head, ridding herself of such thoughts.

Seohyun figured this was where she was gonna wake up every time she slept. She peeked out of the window to see that it was already morning. She felt like she hadn't slept at all, which was weird.

Her mother groaned, rubbing her eyes as she woke up. She looked like she had forgotten for a moment where she was, and as she took in her surroundings, Seohyun saw realization hit her as she jerked violently.

Her mother stared at her for a long while, before sighing and throwing her head in her hands. She thought her state must have been a nuisance for her ever-busy mother, but then she saw the tears fall down her mother's eyes as she hastily wiped at them.

She fell back on her seat, laughing, probably at the situation. And then she spoke:

"When your dad left me, I thought nothing could break me anymore."

Seohyun's eyes went a little wide at the sudden mention of her dad, who had passed away due to his heart problem a little after Seohyun's birth. Her mother had told her fragments of her life with him; they had met at work and fallen in love, spending a few years together before marrying and having a daughter.

"Your dad... he had my whole heart. So you can't blame me for my lack of love because it went with him to the grave. I tried loving you, and I thought it would be very hard. But somehow... I didn't even realize that I already loved you, way before you were born. I loved the thought of you."

Seohyun's heart sank. She thought she was invading her privacy by hearing all this... But technically, her mother was talking to her, wasn't she?

"I realize now. Now that you're looking like your dad in his last moments, I realize how afraid I am to lose you. If you followed him, I'd just be an empty shell."

Seohyun wanted to hug her mom and tell her it was alright. She wanted to give her a sign that she was here... but she figured it would do more harm than good.

"I hope you come back, Seohyun. My little girl. I promise to be a better mother, just- come back."

Seohyun's eyes shone with silver as she smiled at her mother's word. So her mother really did love her. She watched as she got up, straightening her clothes. "I'm going to distract myself until you're back. And then I will give you all the time in this world. Take you where you want to. Act like a proper mother that I should have done years ago. I'm- I'm sorry for not doing that earlier."

She walked to Seohyun's body, planting a kiss on her forehead and Seohyun could have sworn she felt a tingle of it too.

Her mother left after smiling at her, and Seohyun inhaled. She needed to distract herself too.

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

"I'm making a video of this, and no one is gonna stop me."

"What if someone sees it, Yeosang?" Hongjoong asked, shaking his head.

"I don't care," he replied as he did exactly as he had said. Make a video of Seohyun drumming furiously.

Except you could not see Seohyun and it looked like the drums were playing itself.

"I could start a YouTube channel and earn money from videos like these," he smirked.

"If you start earning money because I'm on the borderline of death," Seohyun had stopped drumming now, "I'll actually haunt you for the rest of my life."

San, who was watching the whole thing while sulking on the sofa, told Yeosang exactly what she had said.

"Good. At least I'll have company for the rest of my life."

Seohyun threw the drumstick, aiming for his head, and it hit home as he yelled in pain, a few colourful words escaping his mouth.

"You deserved it," Hongjoong laughed. Yeosang threw the drumstick back and Seohyun caught it, putting it down. She was done playing. She took the notebook they'd given her for communication and wrote: If I do end up dying, I'll help you all make money. At least I'll still be useful after death, you morons.

She held the notebook for them to read, trying to hide the view from San, but he ended up peeking too, and shook his head again, sulking even more.

"Back with her death jokes," Hongjoong looked at the book with disapproval.

Seohyun threw the book back at the table and came to sit with San, mirroring his sulking position. "It's so boring to have only you to actually talk to, no offence."

"Some taken," San said, "Be grateful I can see you. Imagine if I hadn't followed you that day."

"Actually grateful for that," Seohyun grinned. A ghost of smile crept on his face.

She heard the door of the warehouse open as the rest of them arrived. "Is Seohyun here?" Wooyoung asked, looking worried.

Hongjoong said yes, and he looked around saying, "Wherever you are, I'm so sorry about the accident, Seohyun. I don't want you to die, please come back! I can't lose you!"

Seohyun picked the pillow and threw it with considerable force at Wooyoung, who screamed and Mingi laughed. "Glad to see you're in good spirits."

"Are you okay though?" Jongho asked, having realized she must be sitting with San, "Does it... hurt or anything?"

San told them she said it was fine, it was just like being alive except no one can see her anymore which is making her sad and bored. He skipped the part where she had said that San was kinda boring these days too.

"Glad to hear," Wooyoung put the bag of snacks on the table. "I bought snacks, but... can you eat?"

Seohyun decided it was time to test that theory. She hadn't felt the need to eat, but she supposed theoretically she should be able to eat. She picked a packet of chips and opened it, the rest of them watching her curiously. She picked one in her hand, and then slowly put it in her mouth.

She could eat.

She danced in victory, making the rest of them laugh as Yunho hooted, "Time to loot the stores!"

"Nice idea!" She yelled back, coming back to sit with San, offering him some. He refused first but she made him open his mouth and put one in it. "This feels good. It's like being able to touch you."

San smiled. He felt that too.

Seohyun got up, going to Seonghwa and waiting for him to open his mouth. He was confused for a second but then opened, and Seohyun put the chip in his mouth. "This feels weird," he muttered, but smiled.

One by one, Seohyun put chips in their mouths, making them laugh. Yeosang filmed the whole thing, saying he was gonna make a compilation video once she was back.

San watched her with a curious look in his eyes. She had been acting a bit... different. More cheerful than she should have been. Or maybe he was too gloomy? When Seohyun came back, San folded his arms. "Did something... happen today?"

Seohyun got quiet for a second before she told him about how she had heard her mom talk to her. San wished he could hug her. Even though she sat right next to him, she felt so distant. His heart ached.

"At least now you know for sure that your mother does love you, in her own way."

"I suppose so," Seohyun sighed, folding her arms, watching Mingi and Wooyoung have a little brawl over who was better at drums, "I haven't ever seen her like that. Makes me want to not... die. Not that it's in my control anymore."

"Don't think like that," San turned towards her, "Your willpower is important."

"Is it?" Seohyun countered, and San narrowed his eyes. "I'll have to test that theory-"

"Do not even THINK of trying something reckless-" His voice was raising.

"I'd like to see you stop me-"

"HEY!" San got up abruptly, and everyone turned to look at him, "Does your life mean nothing to you?"

Seohyun instantly got deja vu. He'd said something like this before too. She stared at him as he groaned and pinched his nose bridge in frustration, pacing back and forth and then stopping again. "I thought your life meant something to you now. You had friends- you had us. We love you and care about you so much. I care about you so much. Your mother does. But all you care about is yourself?"

"San-" Blood rushed to Seohyun's cheeks as she realized, "I didn't mean-"

"You did mean it, Seohyun," San sighed, "I- I thought you finally had something to live for."

"San, I do. Believe me, I do."

San looked at her, shaking his head, and Seohyun felt like she could disappear. "Think about it, Seohyun."

He turned and started to go, and Seohyun grabbed his hand- or tried to- but it passed right through.

"I need some time to clear my head," he muttered as he left.

Everyone watched San leave the warehouse, and their eyes went back to where San had been standing, where Seohyun now stood. She felt disappointed in herself. She slumped down on the sofa, the others realizing she was still here.

"What was that about?" Seonghwa asked out loud. Seohyun just clenched her hair as she groaned loudly, cursing herself, glad nobody could hear her right now.

Hongjoong came and sat near Seohyun, saying, "If you want to talk about it, I'm here."

Seohyun thought it was sweet of him. He'd brought the pen and notebook too, placing it in between them. Seohyun took it, scribbling in it.

I messed up big time

Hongjoong read it, scooting a little closer, the notebook seemingly in her lap. She wrote again:

I'm a disappointment to San.

Hongjoong shook his head, "You're not. Trust me, you're not." He took a deep breath, having figured out what the fight was about. "I know you've had it rough, and you're not used to all these new relations. But whatever happened, you can set it right. San won't stay angry, but he'll be truly disappointed if you don't."

Seohyun thought about, and didn't realize her tears were falling on the notebook. Hongjoong could see it.

"You haven't cried since the accident, right? You're very brave, Seohyun."

Seohyun laughed a bit as she realized, making her cry even harder. She scribbled Thanks in the notebook, putting it aside. She knew what she had to do. Apologize.

She got up, walking towards the piano. Seating herself, she tested the keys, giving everyone a little scare before she started to play.

It was the piece Joon Hyuk had taught her. It was utterly sad but beautiful, and it had took her months to get better at it. As she played, she realized her muscle memory was better now. So she lost herself in the sadness of it, her fingers dancing on the keyboard.

When she was finished, she opened her eyes, breathing. it took her a good minute to come back to reality, and when she did, everyone was staring at her. Or the piano.

"Tell me someone got it on their phone," Yeosang mumbled.

Seohyun threw her head back and laughed out loud as she watched the boys fight over why no one took the liberty of filming this moment.

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

That night, Seohyun was pacing in the park near San's house, wondering how she should make things right. A simple 'sorry' wouldn't suffice. She wished she could touch him, hug him. Maybe that would have put more depth to the apology.

She was out of options. And as she was muttering to herself about how much of a bitch she had been, San came walking in, stopping abruptly when he saw her still pacing and cursing. She hadn't noticed yet. So he shook slightly with laughter as he heard her rather colourful vocabulary.

Seohyun sighed, looking up, and finally saw San, her heart sinking to her feet. "Gosh, you gave me a scare," she put a hand to her heart as she breathed.

"It's not like you can die of a heart attack now," San said.

Seohyun paused, narrowing her eyes at him. "Excuse me?"

San shrugged, but lost his demeanor as he finally laughed. "Oh how the tables have turned!" Seohyun gasped, kicking a pebble at him, glad when it struck his leg and he winced.

She gave him a long look. "Are you okay?"

"I am," San said, motioning to the swings and they took one. As they bobbed lightly, Seohyun finally took a deep breath and said, "I am sorry, San."

"For what?" he asked, looking at her.

"For everything," Seohyun said. "I've been a terrible friend."

"No you're not," he smiled. "I just wish you'd give yourself more credit. You don't have to apologize to me. You should be apologizing to yourself."

"Damn, that's poetic," Seohyun said and she could've sworn she heard San mutter 'insufferable', but he still laughed. "Alright. I'll give myself more credit. I won't make death jokes again too."

"Now what would Seohyun be without her death jokes?"

"That is a very valid point," Seohyun smiled. "Alright, I'll just... be a better person. You know."

It seemed like San was enjoying her struggle to find words. "I know what?"

Seohyun's jaw tensed. "Be glad I can't hit you, San."

San smirked.

That cocky little-

Seohyun got up, searching for something to throw at San, who just laughed loudly as he ran away from her.

---------

Days passed. Weeks passed.

A month passed- yet Seohyun was not awake.

Every morning, Seohyun awoke at the hospital, no matter where she slept. She had made the warehouse her home now, since going back to her house was just a reminder that she was not alive, but not dead either.

She wasn't sure how she felt about this situation. The first few days, everyone had been super sensitive about what they said in front of her. But now, everyone was busy with school too. So Seonghwa advised her to attend school too, to not get behind her studies. But Seohyun said that technically, she was still in hospital which meant she could skip school now.

It took her one day without them, bored out of her mind, and she decided that yes, she would go to school too.

So everyday, she sat in her seat, not really paying attention to the lectures but still feeling like she was a part of this world. A part of the living.

And she'd help a lot of ghosts too. Ghosts didn't find her like they did when she was alive, but occasionally she'd stumble upon a lost ghost and help them out, saying she was 'experienced' in helping the fellow-dead.

She was out helping a ghost, a little girl barely 7 years old. She missed her mom and was still hanging on because she had to give her mom a gift, she had promised to. Seohyun's heart went out for the little girl, and she decided to help her.

Seohyun took the girl to her own house, and the little girl went 'wow' when she realized she could touch things now. So Seohyun gave her a nice page and colour pencils while the girl made a drawing. The gift to her mom.

Seohyun hadn't been home in quite a while now. She walked around her room, memories of San and Jiwoo coming to her mind. She smiled as she took the painting of Jiwoo in her hands.

"I'm done!" The girl said, and Seohyun placed the painting back, going to the desk.

"So your name is Yerim?" She asked and Yerim nodded. She had made a cartoon of herself and her mom, labelling it.

"That is a beautiful drawing, Yerim. I'm sure your mom would love it."

Yerim smiled and Seohyun pinched her cheeks. "Now let's give that to your mom."

Yerim guided her to her home, and they went inside, deciding to hide the painting in Yerim's room so when her mom would come, she'd find it, and think she had already made it before she died.

"Thank you, unnie!" Yerim hugged Seohyun and she marvelled at the feeling. She hadn't touched anyone since she'd been a ghost.

Seohyun picked the girl in her arms. "You're so light!" Yerim laughed and hugged her again. They got out of the house, walking randomly, Yerim still in her arms. The black cat started following them too.

"The cat can see you?" Yerim asked.

"Oh yes. When I was... alive, it was my friend. It's still my friend when I'm ghost."

"That's cool," Yerim said as she waved at the cat.

Seohyun asked, "Now that you have done what you stayed here for, you should go now. There's a better world, where you'll wait for your mom. She'll be there soon."

"Will she?" She asked and Seohyun nodded.

"Can we go to the park over there? I used to come there to play with my mom. It has so many flowers too."

"Of course," Seohyun looked at where she had pointed. The park was full of kids and their parents, playing around. "That's a nice place."

Seohyun dropped Yerim and she asked if she would be able to touch the cat. She squealed in surprise when she could.

"What's the name of this cat?"

"Ah. I haven't named it yet..." Was it Shiber or Byeol?

"You can call it Yerim!"

Seohyun paused. She got the strange urge to stretch her cheek.

"You're very cute, Yerim. I'll call her that," Seohyun smiled.

Yerim nodded, looking at the kids, and Seohyun watched her fade away. Feeling the sudden urge to cry, she shook her head and motioned for the cat to follow her.

After roaming around aimlessly, Seohyun reached the warehouse, finding it utterly dark. Not even the usual light was on.

"Where did everyone go?" She muttered, turning to go out, almost jumping out of her skin when she heard what sounded like a blast.

It was a party popper.

"Happy birthday!"

Seohyun turned to find everyone clapping and holding a cake, the only light in the room from the candles. San was laughing at Seohyun's horrified expressions. She truly had forgotten that it was her birthday. She shook her head, laughing.

"You guys, you're- how did you plan this?"

"It took us days to plan," San admitted, and Wooyoung said, "We had to think of a way you'd be busy today."

"But I was busy today because- no way. No way!" Seohyun looked at San in disbelief and he nodded. "I found her before you did and asked her to keep you busy. She was more than happy to."

"Wow," Seohyun shook her head, pinching her nose bridge but smiling at the effort.

"Blow the candles," Seonghwa said, and Yeosang took to his filming.

Seohyun felt strangely happy as she blew her candles, not bothering to make a wish. Hongjoong turned on the lights and she looked around, noticing the various gifts lying in the corner, and her favourite dishes on the table.

San led them to the table, where she cut the cake and made everyone take a bite from her hands. She couldn't thank them enough; this was the first time she had a surprise- or even a celebration.

"I wish the circumstances were different," Seohyun sighed.

San told them what she said and Yunho answered, "It doesn't feel any different. Only we can't see or hear you, so we have to visualize. Oh, and we get more jump-scares now."

Seohyun laughed, and they dug into the food.

After they all were done, they asked her to unwrap her gifts. So Seohyun grabbed the largest one first, which was from Yunho. It was a school bag, with space for laptop too.

"I noticed yours was kind of worn out," Yunho grinned. Seohyun scribbled on the notebook, saying 'Thank you for noticing! :)'. The others applauded him for the approval.

The next one was from Mingi. It was a beautiful leather band watch, which she loved, saying she wished she could put it on right now, and wondering for a moment that if she did, where would it go when she was back?

Yeosang had gifted her some chocolates from abroad, conveniently his father had been out of country. And since he knew her love for chocolate was one to be appreciated, he decided on it. Seohyun almost cried when she spotted her favourite ones.

"I do have another gift, but you'll have to wait for it," he admitted. Seohyun narrowed her eyes, scribbling 'It better be worth it' and moving on to the next.

Jongho had given her a scented set; shampoo, lotion and candle. Hongjoong got her a cap and sunglasses, rather stylish, and Seohyun had to admit she was impressed by his choice. Seonghwa had gifted her a black cat plushie- very, very similar to Yerim the cat. Seohyun admitted it might be her favourite gift. Wooyoung had gifted her a set of earrings, and she appreciated that it was just her taste. And San got her a couple ring, making everyone including herself gasp when they saw it.

"I didn't know what to get..." San scratched the back of his neck.

"No, I love it. It's so pretty!" It was just her style; a silver band with a tiny diamond in the center. Seohyun tried it on, showing it to San excitedly who laughed, approving. He wore his own too.

"Aw, this is so sweet. Except it looks like San proposed to himself," Wooyoung said, earning a smack from Seonghwa.

Seohyun took it off, handing it to San. "I'll wear it when I'm back."

"You wanna go for a walk?" San asked, and she nodded, getting up and asking him to convey her thanks to everyone, that they should keep this stuff here and she'll properly receive them and thank them when she was back.

After everyone said goodbye, San and Seohyun started walking aimlessly around, San telling her how it had taken them a whole week to plan, which included panicking over gifts too. Since it was their first time with Seohyun, it was more difficult to decide on what she'd like.

"I would have loved anything you gave me, even if it was stupid. I appreciate the gesture more."

"I know," San smiled at her. Seohyun was looking at him with a smile on her face, taking in the details on his pretty face, that she didn't notice a bike rushing and on its way to hit her.

Of course she wouldn't get hit, but out of impulse, San grabbed her by the arm and dragged her to the side, "Even if you're a ghost, you should be careful-"

"How- how did you did you just touch me?"

San looked at her, then looked down at his hands, then looked at her again. "Did I?"

Seohyun frowned. Slowly, taking a step towards him, she touched his face, and they sucked in their breath.

She could touch him.

Seohyun laughed in disbelief, touching his face, feeling every angle and curve of it, and San's hands went to grab her hands, marvelling at the touch. He hugged her, not quite believing it until he could feel her arms around her.

Seohyun broke the hug, joining their foreheads, for a moment forgetting everything else as she kissed him. God, it had been too long. They kissed each other in a frenzy, until San felt like someone dumped water on him and he broke apart.

"How did this happen?"

"I don't know," Seohyun breathed, "I don't know, I-"

Seohyun fell to the ground, clenching her head in her hands as she cried out in pain.

"What's happening?" San asked, panic lacing his voice, and Seohyun muttered that she did not know.

"I think I'm dying," Seohyun said, wincing because of the sharp pain, "Or something's happening. I'm being pulled back. San- I'm scared."

San was sitting down with her now, holding her in her arms, caressing her head, "It's gonna be alright," he said, pressing a kiss to her head, "It's gonna be alright."

He didn't know how long he stayed there comforting her as she breathed and faded. And he did not know how long he stared at the empty space in front of him, where Seohyun had just been.

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

It was utter chaos at the hospital- the doctors and the nurses were rushing around, everyone was borderline panicking. Seohyun was going into shock- her mother was crying hysterically as she watched the doctors go around her in a frenzy. A nurse told her to pray- she would either make it or pass away.

Her mother watched her heart beat flatline and the doctors resuscitate her. Her mother almost fainted as she watched the monitors- she was having flashbacks from the time her husband had passed away. Her friend Yuri came rushing in, leading her outside, rubbing her back and telling her it was better to wait and pray instead of watch what was going on.

Meanwhile, San, who had been staring at the empty space in front of him, where Seohyun had just been, slapped himself to reality and called Hongjoong, quickly telling him what had happened as he rushed through the streets, trying to find a taxi. The boys joined him, their faces pale, and they ran to the main street until they found taxis and drove to the hospital, not being able to calm their loudly thumping hearts.

As soon as they reached the hospital, they looked at each other once, nodding, scared for what they would get to hear. Most of them were trembling now- but they followed each other to the ICU, where they spotted the doctors coming out of the room.

Yunho spotted Yuri and ran to her, "How's Seohyun? What happened to her?"

Yuri narrowed her eyes at Yunho, "How did you know...?"

Yunho internally cursed himself before making up an excuse, "I was passing by here when I heard the doctors call the others to Seohyun's room- I called the rest. It wasn't looking good."

Yuri nodded, "She's okay now. She's awake, in fact. Look," Yuri pointed at the door that was slightly open, and Yunho saw her mother smiling through tears, holding Seohyun's hand, who was smiling too.

Yunho sighed in relief, almost falling on his knees. He thanked Yuri and motioned the rest to join him, and the rest knew it was good news with the smile on Yunho's face. They watched the mother and daughter smile and talk to each other, and they hugged each other in relief, their eyes wet.

Seohyun spotted the group of boys outside, waving at them. The boys waved back and they watched her say something to her mother, who nodded, getting up after kissing her forehead and coming out.

"I never thought Seohyun could have so many friends one day," Her mother smiled at them.

"It's good to meet you," Jongho said, and they bowed in greeting.

"You can meet her now- try not to be too loud," she laughed, waving at them.

The boys walked slowly to her room, taking in Seohyun's appearance- there were shadows under her eyes, a few scars on her face and hands, but her smile was the only thing they could see.

"Come here. I missed you all so much!"

Jongho went first, shaking hands with her, the rest coming one by one, holding back from hugging her or ruffling her hair because of the bandages on her head and everywhere else. They were all a little speechless, having seen Seohyun after so long now.

Even San was speechless- he had seen Seohyun everyday, but not like this.

"I thought you'd be happier to see me," Seohyun looked at San.

"I... I am, I just-" San shook his head, looking down as he trembled from trying to hold back his tears, "I really thought... that you were gone."

Seohyun sighed, pursing her lips. "I have given you all a hard time, haven't I?"

They all shook their heads, Mingi and Wooyoung rubbing San's back who was trying his hardest not to cry but ultimately failed. Hongjoong said they'd give them a moment and they left the room.

"San. Come on, look at me. San!"

San sniffed, wiping his eyes before looking at her. Tears formed in her own eyes and she wiped them.

"I'm so sorry, San. I'm so sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry for anything," San leaned forward, taking her hand in his- it had been too long. "Nothing to be sorry about, except scaring the shit out of me."

Seohyun laughed, "I scared the shit out of myself too, not gonna lie."

"I can't believe you're real," San admitted, bringing her hand to his face, reveling the feeling of her touch, "I am awake, am I not?"

Seohyun slapped his face lightly with her other hand. "Very much awake."

San took his sweet time not saying anything, just looking at her face, his lips on her hand.

"Say something, San. You're being weird."

San shook his head, kissing her hand. "I am never leaving you, ever. Get that in your head. No amount of death jokes are going to scare me away. You're stuck with me now until I die."

Seohyun flushed at the sudden confession. "Are you sure? I can make horrible jokes."

"As sure as I will ever be."

Seohyun smiled until she was laughing, tears running down her face. "God, I love you, San. I'm not leaving you too. Even if you're angry with me, disappointed in me, or whatever, I'll keep bugging you."

"Good to hear," San grinned.

"Come here," Seohyun motioned, and San asked her if it was okay. Seohyun just grabbed his collar and gave him a light peck on his lips.

"I can't hug you right now, but I can do this."

San smiled, returning the favour. They both stared at each other, smiling.

"Now that is a creepy sight I wish I will never see again. Tell me you got that on camera, Wooyoung."

"Right on," Wooyoung replied to Hongjoong, and Seohyun tried throwing her pillow at them, groaning in pain when she turned too harshly. San told her to calm down, throwing the pillow himself.

"It's our turn now, you've been seeing her for months now!" Yeosang shouted, and Seohyun laughed as she watched them push San out of the way, making him sit in the corner and pout while they sat in front of her, taking turns to talk to her.

"How did it feel while you were a ghost?" Wooyoung asked.

"Like I was alive, but not real?"

"Did it hurt when you became a ghost, or when you went back?" Seonghwa asked.

"When I went back, yes, I felt like my head was about to burst-"

"Can you still see ghosts now?" Mingi asked.

"I don't know yet-"

"Let her rest!" Hongjoong clapped once, "We'll have plenty of time to catch up when she comes home."

Seohyun pouted and Hongjoong patted her shoulder, "Glad you're back, Seohyun."

Seohyun smiled, wriggling her brows at him and they all waved at her before leaving, San coming to kiss her hand once before leaving. Seohyun sighed- he was being so soft.

Her mother came in, trying to stifle her smile but failing. "You have many friends now, it seems."

"I do," Seohyun nodded, smiling back, "I have a boyfriend too."

Her mother raised one eyebrow, putting her hands on her hips. "Lee Seohyun! Why didn't you tell me earlier? Which one was he?"

"The one who left last, San."

"Oh," her mother gave her a thumbs up, "How did it happen?"

Seohyun told her to sit because it was a long story, and then told her all about how she had met San, how he was able to see ghosts now too, because of her, and how they, at one point, started liking each other.

"Were you a ghost when you were in a coma?"

Seohyun bit her lip, nodding.

"And these friends knew?"

"They did. San could see me, but he couldn't touch me. At least not until tonight, just before it happened."

Her mother sighed, leaning back. "Is there a reason none of them, and not even you, bothered to tell me that you were a ghost?"

"I wanted to- I slept every night and woke up here, with you. I heard you talk to me. I couldn't break your heart, mom. Not when I wasn't sure if I was going to make it."

"I understand," She nodded, earnest, "How did this even happen?"

"It was an old ghost- a vengeful one. Apparently when you kill a 'mediator'- that's what they call me, there are a few moments before the mediator thing passes to another person. During those moments, ghosts can trespass and interact with humans and whatnot. At least that's what that bitch told me-"

"Language-"

"I'm talking about the ghost who tried to kill me."

"Oh, that bitch, go on."

"So apparently ghosts can't kill the mediators. So she tried doing it to me indirectly, which ended up killing her."

"Good riddance! But I hope you will have stopped seeing ghosts now. I don't want you to get in more trouble," her mother's eyes were full of worry.

"I don't think that happened, but at least nobody will try to kill me now."

The mother and daughter sat thinking for a few moments. Finally, her mother spoke, "You're getting discharged in three days. If you want to take a break from school, if you want to go on a trip, I can do that-"

"Thank you, mom," Seohyun smiled, "I just want to live like I had been living. Normally. We can go somewhere during the New Year holidays if you're free- otherwise, I just want to go to school, spend time with the boys, do normal stuff."

"I took extra days off," her mother nodded, "We can go visit your grandparents in the countryside."

"Sure! I haven't seen them in forever."

"You can go with the boys somewhere if you want to before New Year. I won't be home for Christmas- I have business in Japan. But if you want me home for Christmas-"

"Please, it's really okay, mom," Seohyun nodded furiously, "I won't be alone this time. Just promise you'll be home for New Year."

"I promise," she smiled.

"Done. I'll plan something with the boys."

Three days later, Seohyun was finally discharged, the bandages off her and she felt light. Seohyun took a look in the mirror when she got home- the wounds on her face would fade with time. She was alive, and that was all that mattered.

The boys had paid a visit every night, and it was time for her to return the favour. Seohyun decided she would buy something for them each- a Christmas gift, a gift because she woke up. She told them all to be there at night while she went shopping.

Two hours later, several shopping bags in her hands, she stood outside the warehouse. The air felt incredibly different now that she was alive.

Seohyun closed her eyes, relishing the feel of the wind on her skin, blowing the hair away from her face.

"Home."

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

"Hi guys!" Seohyun stood awkwardly, waving the bags in her hands. The boys all turned, hooting as they rushed towards her, and for a moment, Seohyun almost had a heart attack.

"STOP!" She shouted, and they stopped in their tracks, realizing their mistake. "One at a time, okay? Go back and sit."

They obeyed, muttering things under their breath and San approached her, taking some of the bags away from her.

"Can I hug you first?"

"Not fair!" Wooyoung shouted.

Seohyun laughed while San glared at Wooyoung, "We'll have plenty of time later, but here," She gave him a brief hug, sighing into it. It was the first time she was going to hug everyone after the accident.

She had been discharged from the hospital the next night, after the doctors made sure everything was okay. The bandages were off now, mostly. Some scars remained- one running down her temple as well. She had been home the past days, not being able to meet anyone, taking her time to get her energy back, only going out shopping with her mom.

"Alright," Seohyun placed the bags in front of the table where everyone sat, "This is going to be a random pick. I got you all gifts for Christmas, so I'm going to pick a bag. Here-" Seohyun picked one, "Yeosang!"

Yeosang got up haughtily, flipping his hair, motioning at them to applaud and they did, faces grumpy as he approached Seohyun and hugged her, almost picking her up in the air.

"Don't crush me!" Seohyun laughed, and Yeosang finally broke the hug, patting her head.

"We didn't get you anything for Christmas yet."

"You don't need to, you got me enough for the birthday-"

"We'll just give you food then," Jongho suggested.

"Deal," Seohyun winked at him, handing Yeosang the bag. "Open it."

Yeosang looked at her pointedly, opening the box to reveal a small flying drone. Yeosang gasped in surprise and Seohyun looked proud.

"I may have noticed you doodling drones in your notebook."

Yeosang laughed and thanked her, saying she knew him well. Seohyun picked the next bag.

"Seonghwa!"

Seonghwa pumped a fist in the air as he ran to Seohyun, hugging her.

"You hug like my mom does," Seohyun muttered.

"Glad you're back," he said, kissing her temple before he broke the hug. He opened the gift to reveal a set of-

"Hey, how did you know to get me these!" Seonghwa looked at Seohyun in surprise while the others tried to peek at what Seonghwa was holding, who took the boxes out to reveal action figurines. Seohyun smiled as she watched the rest laugh in approval.

"When you guys crashed my first date and took me shopping, I may have noticed you eyeing these in the shop- I don't know what category they are- I just memorized one of the toys of that set and went there and found it, to my relief."

"You're very observant," Seonghwa eyed her and she curtsied, earning another thanks.

"Can I come next?" Jongho said, pointing at the giant bear wrapped messily lying in the corner, "It's a bit too obvious now to pretend I don't see it."

Seohyun bit her lip, trying not to laugh, "Please do."

Jongho smiled, skipping to Seohyun, hugging her such that she was dangling in the air, arms flapping wildly at the side, and then the two skipped to where the bear was- it was about Seohyun's size. Jongho tore the wrappers and laughed-

"You really had to?"

Seohyun smiled at the apple necklace the bear wore- it was a special touch she added to Jongho's gift. "I mean, I could have gifted you a crate of apples-"

Yeosang laughed out loud, causing the others to laugh as well, "The apples wouldn't have lasted a day."

"It's not that bad!" Jongho sulked, dragging the bear to the couch and hugging it, pouting. Seohyun shook her head at him, picking the next bag.

"Yunho!"

Yunho hooted in victory, pausing in front of Seohyun for a second before spreading his arms, and Seohyun gladly hugged him, laughing because she barely reached his shoulders.

"Glad you're back, you dwarf."

"Thanks, you giant puppy," Seohyun shook her head, breaking the hug and handing him the bag. Yunho eyed her before fishing out a long box, unwrapping it.

Seohyun watched as his mouth opened in surprise, and he looked at Seohyun, then back at the boys, then back at her.

"What is it?" Wooyoung asked, "Don't make me get up now-"

"How did you get your hands on this!" Yunho laughed out loud, taking out a wand from the box, "This is Harry's wand, right?"

"Harry's wand!" Mingi wowed, and Hongjoong shook his head, "Isn't this too much! When did you get the time!"

"Actually, this wasn't a Christmas gift," Seohyun admitted, and Yunho looked at her in surprise, "You remember when we talked about Harry Potter all day in school when I was... alive? Before becoming a ghost, I mean-"

"I do," Yunho shook his head, "You're still alive, you know."

Seohyun waved a hand in dismissal, "Anyways, one of mom's friends was in UK, and I had asked her to get me a wand from there, so I asked to bring another."

"I don't know- isn't this too much?" Yunho looked at her hesitantly, and Seohyun rolled her eyes, looking at San who was laughing silently.

"Shut up. Next!" Seohyun announced, ignoring Yunho and picking another bag. "Hongjoong!"

"When is my turn!" Wooyoung wailed loudly, Mingi joining, and Seohyun watched as the two started playing rock papers scissors to bet on who would be next.

"How did you even bring all these here," Hongjoong asked as he hugged her, long and good, "Wasn't it too much trouble?"

"It's okay," Seohyun rubbed his back before they broke apart, and Seohyun handed him the bag. "Here."

Hongjoong looked at her pointedly, "This looks the smallest."

"I can assure you, it was the most expensive-"

"Hey!" Hongjoong laughed, "I'm not opening this."

"Stop being so dramatic, we're waiting!" Wooyoung shouted, Mingi doubling over with laughter.

"I'll do the honours," Seohyun picked the box and tore the wrapper apart. "I had to."

Hongjoong almost dropped the box as he held it- it was headphones- but high quality ones- ones he wish he could have to make him hear the sound betters when he composed in his laptop. "Seohyun-"

"Don't-"

"How can I accept this!"

"You know I could get you better things- my mom's loaded. She was all too glad when I told her that you were the guys I was buying gifts for. Please, Hongjoong, it's not much."

Hongjoong shook his head, "I know it's not much to you, but to us, it is. I'd appreciate it if you don't spend money like that again-"

"Shut up," Seohyun shook her head, "It's my first time getting someone gifts. First time getting someone something meaningful, first time I actually put thought into all of this. First time I was excited. Please," Seohyun wrapped his hands in hers, "Accept it."

"You're gonna make me cry now," Hongjoong laughed, bringing her in for another hug. "Thank you. I won't forget this."

"Thank you for accepting," Seohyun laughed, and Hongjoong went back, flaunting his headphones as he examined them.

"Okay, Mingi, you're next."

Mingi almost fell as he got up in victory, waving his butt at Wooyoung and earning a smack, skipping as he came to Seohyun and hugged her dramatically, picking her and actually making her scream-

"Drop me, you giant!" Seohyun slapped his arms repeatedly, and he finally dropped her, pretending she had hit her too hard. Seohyun slapped his arm again, finally smiling.

Mingi went to where his bag was- finding two boxes- his recent two favourite anime's action figurines.

"You remembered!"

"I also got you the recent volumes!" Seohyun fished out another bag from under the table and Mingi wowed, checking as if he couldn't believe it.

"You have good memory! When did I tell you which volumes I had?"

"Some time in school?" Seohyun smiled, "I didn't know what else to get you- I already gave you the drums, I could have waited till Christmas I guess-"

"Oh come on, they're yours-"

"They're yours now," Seohyun announced, and Yunho started clapping, "I mean, I'm a co-owner. Deal?"

"Deal," Mingi ruffled her hair, thanking her.

"Finally now, it's my time!" Wooyoung came singing, almost running to Seohyun as he crashed into her, spinning her and kissing her forehead, "I cannot tell you how happy I am that you are alive!"

"Even if I was dead," Seohyun began, "I feel like I wouldn't have been able to move on because of you-"

"Hush, now," Wooyoung shook his head, laughing. "Hey, mine is the lightest! Hongjoong!"

Hongjoong was too absorbed in his headphones to respond and San finally got up, telling Wooyoung to hurry up so they could have 'alone time'. Wooyoung unwrapped his gift-

"BTS' ALBUM!"

Seohyun flinched at how loud he was and San came to cover her ears as Wooyoung shouted in surprise and amazement, thanking Seohyun to which she nodded, still flinching as he ran around flaunting the album.

"You brought this upon yourself," San laughed, and Seohyun smiled as Wooyoung crushed her in another hug, thanking her again and again.

"You want me to take it back!"

"NO!"

"THEN SHUT UP!" Seohyun shouted as loudly as Wooyoung who only grinned.

"I knew there was something about you that I just had to make you friend-"

"Anddd that's enough," San slapped the back of Wooyoung's head, "Let's go to dinner after an hour, guys. Meanwhile, I'm stealing her."

With that, San put his arm on Seohyun's back, guiding her out as the boys 'ooh-ed', making her flush. Seohyun couldn't help but smile as San led her out of the warehouse, taking her at the backside where the boys had set up a small place with a tent and couches for when the weather was nice and they wanted to sit out.

"I wish we could go somewhere else, but I don't want to waste this hour," San said, leading her to the couches, pausing to look at her, his hands hesitant as he touched her face, "How have you been?"

"Oh please, it's not like we didn't call at nights the past two days- I'm fine, really."

San touched the scar at her temple, kissing it, making her flush deeper, "I'm glad to hear that."

Seohyun pushed San's chest, "You're being too... mushy."

"Mushy?" San raised an eyebrow, laughing as they sat on the couch, facing each other.

"You're sometimes too romantic for me to handle, you know that?" Seohyun folded her arms.

"I haven't even begun-"

"Exactly what I mean!" Seohyun shook her head, and San laughed, scooting closer.

"Tell me you missed me. Tell me you missed... us."

Seohyun bit her lip, scanning his face- the moonlight making his cheekbones appear sharper, his eyes dark.

"Can't say I didn't," Seohyun sighed, "Let me hug you first."

San brought her closer and she wrapped her arms around him, almost in his lap, her head resting on his chest as she sighed, melting in the embrace. "I definitely missed this. I could sleep right here-"

"Don't you think about sleeping now."

Seohyun smiled, burying her nose in his neck, inhaling the scent of him- it felt like nostalgia, like home. "I never thought I'd appreciate hugs one day- not being in contact for these two months really put me in my place."

San broke the hug, looking at her face, "I could tell. You got Jongho that bear- you know he doesn't really like skin-ship but watch him cling to that bear for the rest of his life. I realized then."

"You're right, I'm surprised you noticed," Seohyun admitted, "He and I are alike in that. I knew he'd love it. Oh, and also, I got you something, but it's not here yet."

"What did you get me?"

"Don't be too surprised when it comes," Seohyun grinned, "I wasn't too sure- yours was the hardest to think of, but it just happened-"

"Please, I'm curious now," San pouted, whining. "I won't be able to stop thinking now that you reminded me-"

Seohyun kissed him to shut him up, breaking apart to look at his reaction- satisfied to see his eyes wide in surprise and then narrow in challenge.

"I guess I could use a distraction. We do have an hour."

Seohyun laughed, kissing him properly this time, taking it slow- it was the first time they were properly kissing since she was back. San held her face delicately, letting her set the pace. Seohyun's hands were more urgent, running through his soft hair, caressing his face, his neck, roaming around his back and chest as they kissed lazily.

"Don't hold me like I'm gonna break, Choi San."

It was all San needed to hear- he kissed her with a force that got her arching back until her back hit the couch itself, and San broke apart to caress her face and draw her hair back.

"I love you, Seohyun. Merry Christmas."

"And I love you, you mountain," Seohyun smiled, "Now kiss me."

The rest of the hour went by as they kissed, murmured sweet nothings as they sat in each other's embrace, or just watched each other, hands caressing hands. The hour went by slow yet it felt like a flash once it was over and they were interrupted with Wooyoung shouting at them to come inside already.

Holding each other's hands, they went inside and sat with the boys to plan where to go for dinner. Yunho looked at the two and burst out laughing, Mingi joining him.

One by one, they all started laughing, leaving San and Seohyun who stared at them. Even Hongjoong and Seonghwa- the serious ones were laughing.

"Did you two only make out during that one hour?" Yeosang shook his head, "Look at how disheveled you both are."

San and Seohyun immediately looked down, but their clothes were straight, and their hair wasn't messed up-

It was only when all of them burst out laughing that the two realized this was a trick- and San covered his face as he laughed while Seohyun gaped at them, getting up in search of something- grabbing a small cushion and running forward to hit them-

"It was Yunho's idea, don't hit me!" Mingi wailed.

"You're still an accomplice," Seohyun laughed as she ran at all of them, hitting them once on their heads to 'get their brains to kick start'. "So what if we only made out? I'll ask you all when you finally have partners, you loners!"

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

It was the first dinner Seohyun had with the boys since coming back to her normal life.

And it was chaotic, to say the least.

People had mistaken them for being a bunch of drunks one too many times, the way they were hollering with laughter and talking about ghosts as loudly as they could. But everything was okay- Seohyun hadn't felt happier in a while.

After a very lavish dinner, they all walked around the town, making fun of each other and playing, and before Seohyun could decide to leave for her home and bid everyone goodnight, Yeosang told her they had one last surprise for her at the warehouse before she went home.

"And why couldn't I get this surprise when we were back at the warehouse just a few hours ago?"

"You'll know why," Jongho teased, "Just come."

Seohyun rolled her eyes, secretly anticipating just what they had in store for her, and followed them to the warehouse.

"We'll be right back- stay here," Wooyoung said, dragging Jongho and Yeosang with him while the rest stood outside, waiting.

"Can I have a hint?" Seohyun folded her arms.

"Uh, nope." Hongjoong was firm.

"Is it something about a musical performance or a dance performance-"

"Can you calm down and wait?" Seonghwa laughed.

"Is this going to be a prank?" Seohyun raised her eyebrow.

"If it was a prank I would have been inside with them," Mingi raised his hand and Seohyun narrowed her eyes at him.

"Me too!" Yunho grinned, and Mingi and Yunho shared a look which set Seohyun pacing due to nervousness.

"Calm down," San laughed, his eyes full of adoration, "You'll love it. It's all I am allowed to say."

Seohyun pouted, eyeing the warehouse, not hearing anything at all. Another minute passed by which Seohyun had scratched near her fingernails out of nervousness when Wooyoung peeked out, giving a thumb up.

"Finally," Seohyun exhaled, and San took her hand in his as they walked inside.

They were greeted by the Siamese cat that Seohyun had gifted San, who finally named her Byeol. Yerim was their stray cat and Byeol was their pet cat, who loved staying inside the warehouse- her home.

Seohyun looked around. Everything was the same, except there was a projector now set up in front of the couches. "Are we watching a movie?"

"A short movie, you could say," Jongho took her other hand, leading her to the couch and making her sit in the middle, San sitting on one side and Yeosang on the other, and Wooyoung made sure everyone was sitting in front of the screen before he put the lights out, grinning as he sat on the floor mat in front of Seohyun. Seohyun playfully kicked his back, earning a slap to the leg.

"Okay, I'm starting it."

Yeosang clicked a button and there was static for a few seconds before music started to play- music she realized was from one of the samples she'd heard from Hongjoong. She raised her brow at him, and he just winked.

Seohyun went back to watching the screen, which went black and then a video clip started playing- she frowned as she realized where it was from- school.

"Hi," Wooyoung said, "I made a new friend today, but she's kind of scary so I don't know when I'll be able to get a proper vlog with her- ow!"

Seohyun smacked Wooyoung's head. The teacher was about to come in. Wooyoung hid the camera and Seohyun said, "I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing-"

"Should I tell the teacher what exactly you were doing?"

"Boomer," Wooyoung muttered.

Seohyun laughed out loud, "I never heard you call me a boomer!" She smacked the back of Wooyoung's head again, and he laughed out loud.

"This is exactly why you didn't hear me!" Wooyoung laughed, rubbing his head.

The clip changed and Seohyun recognized the scene again-

"I win," Yeosang smirked.

"Next game, come on."

Seohyun drew another blank page and the two restarted another game of tic tac toe. This time, Seohyun went first and she won. Seohyun put a line on her tally count.

"This will go on forever," Yunho, who was watching them, said, "Whenever Seohyun goes first, she wins. Whenever Yeosang goes first, he wins. You both have this figured out- why don't you just shake hands and accept the draw?"

"No."

Yunho laughed as the both had glared at him and said no in unison, flipping the page and starting another game. Mingi, who was filming, turned the camera to himself and shook his head.

"They're never gonna stop."

"We did stop," Yeosang laughed, "Only because the teacher came."

"So who won?" San asked.

Seohyun sighed, smiling, "We shook hands and accepted draw."

The scene changed again, and it was from when Seohyun had first seen the warehouse and revealed that she knew how to play the piano- apparently Jongho had caught her playing the melody that she remembered from Hongjoong. It followed by the clips of the truth and dare game they had that night- the one when Seohyun finally told the boys that she could see ghosts. Everyone had a good laugh over it and Seohyun felt nostalgic as she watched Hongjoong's Billie Jeans imitation and Yunho's golden retriever. Seohyun had stopped them from filming the ghost evidence back then.

The clips that followed were all... ghost evidence. The boys used to play games with Jiwoo- like cards, tic tac toe, or such games, and Seohyun watched with her mouth open in disbelief as the amount of 'evidence' clips passed.

"Good thing Jiwoo's not here- if she was, I would have personally seen her out of this realm."

San rubbed her arm, laughing, "You never stopped them from filming."

Seohyun just shook her head, smiling as the clips changed to a compilation of their last day with Jiwoo, of them playing in the water, playing games and just laughing and having a good time. Seohyun felt bittersweet at the memories.

"Now here starts the fun part," Wooyoung winked.

And sure enough, fun it was.

"It appears my definition of fun differs from yours," Seohyun flushed as she saw a compilation of clips of San and Seohyun being the most obvious couple- looking at each other adoringly, holding hands, talking, etc. "I feel exposed."

"This was my idea- to put these in," San admitted, grinning at her flushed self, "I knew you'd like it."

Seohyun rolled her eyes but smiled, and they all watched the various clips from their outings together, until-

"Oh," Seohyun realized why this gift from Yeosang was late.

The drums playing itself, the piano playing itself, food flying in the air, cushions being thrown- all Seohyun as a ghost, and she had to admit the direction of this movie was clever.

"I'm going to wait till the end credits to comment," Seohyun muttered, watching the day of her birthday, smiling because it really looked like they had filmed the whole thing.

Seohyun's grip on San's hand tightened when she saw the clip from the day at the hospital when she finally woke up- the 'creepy sight' Hongjoong had referred to and Wooyoung had filmed- the sight being San and Seohyun staring and smiling at each other, their foreheads joined.

"You really had to add this?" Seohyun kicked Wooyoung's back lightly, making everyone giggle.

"This is like the epilogue of the whole thing," Mingi said.

The video ended with a picture of the 8- which Jiwoo had clicked on the beach. The end credits rolled, crediting everyone except Seohyun- even Jiwoo.

"Come on, I must have made at least one of the videos or pictures there-"

"In case you haven't noticed, you barely use your phone," Yunho retorted, and Seohyun pouted.

"So," Wooyoung turned, "What do you think?"

Seohyun couldn't stop herself from smiling, looking up as she felt her eyes burn, and the boys started chanting "DON'T CRY", making her laugh harder.

"This really is a gift from all of you- the memories, though I think I should thank Yeosang first," Seohyun smiled at him, taking his hand, "Thank you. You didn't have to waste your time on this."

"It wasn't a waste of time," Yeosang shook his head, "I had this idea when you were still... a ghost. So instead of making it bleaky with only ghost memories, I decided to do something like this. Wooyoung helped me a lot too."

"You all make me cry too much," Seohyun wiped the corners of her eyes, "I was never this emotional-"

"Oh please," Seonghwa shook his head, "If we had a clip from every time that you cried-"

"Okay, okay, I get it!" Seohyun laughed, "Thank you, all of you. This, us here right now, is the greatest Christmas gift I could have from anyone of you-"

"Now don't go being all sentimental on us, Seohyun-"

"Ugh, you guys don't let me breathe!" Seohyun glared at Jongho, who was doubling over with Mingi, "I'm saying it again, and you all better not interrupt. I really love you guys. It's been a great few months, despite the bad things that happened. I wouldn't have made it back without you guys. Thank you for everything."

They all smiled, Seohyun taking time to make eye contact with everyone.

"Thank you for sticking with us, I guess," Seonghwa grinned.

Wooyoung nodded. "I know we can be a loud bunch-"

"You don't say," Seohyun muttered.

"See, you interrupt us too when we're all sentimental!" Wooyoung turned to glare at her.

"Hey, who's idea was it to befriend me again?" Seohyun shrugged, "You brought this upon yourself-"

"It was because we thought a girl in our group would so us good! If I had known you talked and sat like a guy-"

Wooyoung shut up when Seohyun kicked his back, harder this time, making everyone howl with laughter at the two of them bickering.

"Hey, she can be girly when she wants to be-"

"You're not helping, San!"

"It's imitation time, Yunho!" Yeosang called his attention and Yunho bowed, getting up and preparing himself to act like Seohyun.

He walked a few feet away, rolling his sleeves up, which already had the boys laughing, stealing Hongjoong's cap so he could complete the 'Seohyun' look.

"So here's how she walks-" Yunho hunched his shoulders a bit, his eyes darting here and there as he walked with light steps- a habit Seohyun had to make as less of a sound while walking as she could.

"It's because I look out for ghosts!" Seohyun folded her arms, slumping back as the boys laughed at the near perfect imitation, almost howling when Yunho slumped in the chair, sighing, legs apart but feet together, arms folded.

"That's perfect," Yeosang managed to say between laughter. Seohyun clenched her jaw, trying not to laugh.

"I feel exposed..."

"But that's how you really are like, baby," San scoffed.

"I could have been like one of those girls who's always walking like a model, sitting like this-" She tried mimicking those formal sitting positions, "And has her lashes fluttering every second, and is always worried about how she looks."

"See, I knew you'd fit in well with us," Wooyoung grinned, and Seohyun threw a pillow at him as San and Wooyoung started to bicker about Seohyun.

Seohyun smiled as she pet the cat that was now in her lap, looking around at the boys, all smiles and laughter, no worries. Yeosang noticed her expressions and raised his brows.

Seohyun smiled.

"This really does feel like home."

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

Thank you for reading and supporting! <3

#choi san x reader #choi san angst #choi san fluff #choi san scenarios #choi san imagines #ateez au #ateez x reader #san x reader #san imagines #ateez imagines #san au #san fluff #san angst #san scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic

[believeitseeitdoit]

A Defiled Uniform

Steve x reader x Bucky , Steve Rogers x reader , Bucky Barnes x reader

Summary: the boys find a particular garment in your stuff, and set out to fulfill an old fantasy in the bedroom

Rating: 18+, don’t touch this if you are under age please, and sweet Jesus wrap it up folks,

Warnings: CW brief discussion of religion and old style school punishments, SMUT, 3 some, if it isn’t your style, don’t read (I’ll be less offended if you ignore it than if you read it and get cranky), blowjobs, spanking, man on man kissing, dirty talk, language, teacher kink … let me clarify the reader is 100% of age and consenting to the scene!!!

The boys are helping you pack up your apartment so you can move to the compound up North with them. Natasha is helping you wrap dishes in the kitchen while Steve and Bucky tuck your clothes into suitcases from your closet. Classic rock plays throughout, windows open letting fresh air flow, and you can hear Sam bickering with the spiderling about what order to pack your furniture into the moving truck. Nat hands you another champagne flute from the top rack when you hear Bucky call your name.

“Y/N! When did you get all these shirts?! You literally wear 3! And since when do you wear so many shoes???” He yells from the closet, tossing your stuff at Steve, who patiently chuckles and sets them down in his organized fashion.

“It’s called variety, Buck, you’re not a woman on undercover missions. I need options!” You chirp back at him and set the wrapped plate into the box.

Bucky continues to mutter over your items and sighs happily when he can finally see the other side wall of the closet. Only 2 hangers left to go, he thinks gratefully. He grads an aged, faded green hoodie with your university logo and puts it to his nose so he can soak up your scent on it. Your choice fabric softener and hints of your favorite perfume, Black Opium, waft through and he thinks fondly of how much he loves those scents. Tossing the top to his best man, Bucky grabs at the last hanger. Huh, never seen this skirt before, he thinks while holding it up to the light.

“Hey Stevie, have you ever seen her wear this? Looks awful small for mission gear.” Bucky aims the skirt at Steve, giving it a gentle shake for dramatic effect.

“No, Buck, can’t say I have. You know what it reminds me of though? Those uniforms they used to wear at the all girls school across the road from the park back in Brooklyn.” Steve looks from the clothing to his boyfriend suggestively.

“Oh yeah! Those nuns sure kept the girls in line, remember the stories Dot and Molly would tell us about the rulers and paddles? Shit today that’s corporal punishment!” Bucky pulls the skirt off the hanger and folds it, placing the garment in your overnight bag rather than the suitcase.

“You gonna do something with that?” Steve nods to the new addition to your bag.

“Just gonna ask a question later is all Stevie.” Bucky winks at his partner and smiles.

Later that evening, the apartment is signed away and no longer your monster to manage, and the three of you are celebrating the next step in your relationship and life with your men. Lounging on the couch between them, your back against Steve and your legs curled up on top of Bucky’s, sipping a whiskey coke. Steve reaches to your chin and tips it up to place a chaste kiss on your lips, while Bucky rubs up and down your calves softly. You return his peck by sliding your tongue across his teeth, asking for permission to deepen the kiss. As he obliges, he lets his hands drift around your waist to rub your breasts and knead at the full flesh.

In your lustful haze, you hear Bucky speak up. “So where in hell did a good Catholic student learn how to kiss like that? I’m pretty sure they didn’t teach you how to moan like that in school princess.” His eyes are dark with desire and he rests his hands on your knees, locking them in place. You turn your eyes away from one man to the other, bewildered and slightly warm.

“What do you mean Bucky?” You ask with genuine uncertainty. Regardless of the commentary, your arousal grows with the ministrations from both your lovers.

“Well see doll, we did a little research today while you were unpacking. Shield likes to keep full files, and boy was it satisfying to learn that our sweet girl was an innocent little catholic school student. Went to church twice a week and everything.”

Steve whispers in your ear while rubbing a nipple between his fingers.

“And what better detail to find than your old uniform hanging in the closet. Blue is really our favorite color princess.” Bucky adds while snaking his vibranium hand up the inside of your thigh. He ghosts a finger across the seam of your panties, and gives them a quick snapping tug.

You turn to hide your head in the couch cushions, an attempt to cover the blush spreading across your cheeks. They weren’t supposed to find it! How could you slip up with that , as a SHIELD agent??! That fantasy was to remain deeply hidden.

“Don’t hide princess, we want to see that face when Steve tells you what happens next.” Bucky continues working your mound with his metal arm while he previews the future of the evening.

“Now sweet girl, you are going to go upstairs and open your overnight bag. You are to strip out of these clothes, put on the items in there, NOTHING else. Understand me?” Steve’s voice drops an octave as his mind shifts toward his dominant state.

“When you’re ready, I want you to sit at the desk, ready for the bell to ring.” Bucky adds his request as you nodded toward the blonde.

You swing your legs off the couch, palms sweaty with the anticipation of fulfilling the fantasy of defilling such a symbol of purity and innocence. As you turn away from your boyfriends and head to complete your task, each man takes a palm to your ass and smiles. You yelp, and scurry to the bedroom to find your drag bag placed at the foot of the bed. With shaking hands you peel the zipper apart to pull out your wardrobe. A white button down blouse, white ankle socks, the soon to be defamed plaid skirt, and the most ridiculously padded fire engine red bra you’d ever seen. With a chuckle, you peel off one layer of clothes and begin re dressing with the second. Not knowing how much time you have until the “class” begins, you hastily throw your hair into a ponytail and slap a little lip stain on before sliding into the large desk chair and crossing your ankles.

Moments later, you hear heavy boots scuff the floor and the stairs creak under the weight of two super soldiers. Your thoughts drift to dirty places and you imagine seeing bucky’s vibranium hand slide under the skirt while Steve massages your flushed and heavy tits through the top half of your given uniform. A shrill school bell pierces your thoughts and a heavy thud from the door forces your eyes up.

“Now who do we have here? Looks like Miss Y/L/N was sent in for a dress code violation. Mr. Rogers, would you please identify the specifics on why you have sent this young lady to my office?” Bucky looks you up and down as if he were stalking his prey.

Steve looks over his reading glasses and gives you a once over. “Well Mr. Barnes, this young lady clearly has no respect for the rules. I guarantee that skirt is far too short, bet you can see her backside if she stands up.” He begins to circle you as well, and pulls at your blouse. “This shirt is practically transparent, I’d say that’s a bra redder than a sunburn on the Fourth of July.” He grabs a strap and allows it to snap sharply back against your shoulder.

Bucky reaches out to you, asking for your hand. “Now young lady, I am a pretty lenient man, but disrespecting the code of conduct is an inexcusable offense. Mr.Rogers didn’t even mention that lipstick you have on. I happen to know for a fact your lips are not that shade of plum.” He swipes a thumb across your lips to smear the stain. “I think we should allow him to assist in your punishment since he had to leave his duties to discuss this with us.”

“I haven’t used a ruler on this one yet, will that suffice Mr.. Barnes ? She looks a bit delicate for much else.” Steve comes up behind you and begins to caress your thighs, not yet going past the skirt.

“I think a palm should get the point across rather eloquently, perhaps 10?.” Bucky keeps hold of your hand and reaches for your other to pull you close to him.

Steve releases your legs and allows Bucky to take you away. With his vibranium hand, Bucky pulls you to the opposite side of the desk, and leans you across it bringing your chest flush against the mahogany. As he releases your hands he whispers in your ear. “Now princess, I want you to count them and just maybe this will be your punishment for not telling us about your dreams sooner.”

Your thighs clench as a wave of wetness rushes through you, and your breath comes in pants as you hear the pair of them come to face each other over you. Bucky grabs your hands again, and brings them together in front of you so he can hold you down, while Steve runs a hand up your legs and slots one of his between your knees.

“I knew this tight ass couldn’t hide under that skirt, such a bad girl princess,” Steve says as he pushes the skirt over the globes and gives each one a squeeze. “Damn Bucky, can you tell how turned on she is? Dripping all over the place, ready to cum still all dressed up.” He continues kneading your backside while ignoring your moans and wiggling frame.

“Wait til you’ve finished her punishment, bet she’ll be ripe and sweet like a peach for us to taste Stevie.” Bucky growls as he pushes you back down onto the table.

Distracted by Bucky’s words and touch, you nearly miss the sound of air moving as Steve’s palm cuts through it toward your ass. You Yelp again, and whimper at the prospect of not sitting for a week. Bucky taps on your shoulder, reminding you of your duty. “What did I ask you to do princess? Are you going to be a good girl and count for us?”

“Yes, One Sergeant.” You groan out the count.

Another smack comes down to the same spot, right above the crest of your cheek. You gasp into the desk and suck in a breath from the sting. “Two Sergeant.”

Steve continues doling out your punishment to your backside, by the time he hits nine tears are welling in your eyes from the sting and pleasure building in you. Your legs are shaking with effort from standing and your voice is wrecked from garbled use.

“Ten, Sergeant. Thank you Sir.” You whisper after Steve finishes his smacks and begins to rub the marks in soothing circles.

“Good job princess, you did that so well, now it’s time for your reward.” Bucky releases your arms and Steve pulls you up from the desk, the pair of them sandwiching you between them as you all move toward the bed. Your blouse is pulled over your head between frantic kisses with Steve, while Bucky strips his clothes. As they switch positions, you go to unzip the skirt and wrap your legs around Bucky, but he catches your hand and yanks it behind your back.

“Who said you were allowed to take that off? Class is in session, and you must be ready to learn.” His eyes glow with desire as he leans in to kiss you.

Once Steve has rid himself of his clothes, he returns to the bed and comes to lay behind you as Bucky sits you up. “Today’s lesson princess, is the art of how to keep sucking while you cum.” Steve is stroking his member while watching your eyes roll shut with want as he explains the plan to you. Bucky houses you forward into Steve’s chest and pulls your backside to him.

“Damn Stevie, those handprints won’t be gone for a week. She’ll have to find a softer surface to sit on.” He admires his boyfriend’s handiwork while getting his girl set. With your head down and ass up, Bucky slides his flesh hand between your thighs and begins to run two fingers along the outside of your slit. Using your arousal to coat his fingers, Bucky pushes two inside you and begins to work them slowly. He picks up speed as you begin moaning and looks up at his partners nodding to Steve to fill you from the other end.

As Bucky’s fingers move against your walls with vigor, you moan and writhe seeking out more friction on your clit. Steve takes the opportunity to place his hard cock against your open lips, and waits for you to begin sucking. No motivation needed, you lean into his groin and take him in one swallow. Moving your head back and forth, you swirl your tongue against the shaft, and as Bucky adds a third finger to your pussy, you let a moan vibrate through your body, sending a secondary shiver through Steve as well. You relax your jaw and allow Steve to begin fucking into your mouth as his own release builds, the sounds of skin slapping and your muffled moans driving him wild with want. Bucky withdraws his fingers and reaches under you to lift you higher onto your knees. With this motion, Steve lifts into a kneel of his own and makes eye contact with his boyfriend. You pay them no mind as greedily sucking down your boyfriend's dick takes precedence and the prospect of getting fucked by the other makes you giddy with anticipation.

Bucky grabs a fistful of your skirt and slams your ass into his hips, setting your pussy ablaze with the slide of his thick curved cock against your walls. You groan against Steve’s painfully hard member, and before you can take him all he grabs your ponytail and pulls you off. Bucky’s brutally fast and deep pace has you close to the crest and Steve wants you to remember the rule of the scene.

“What did we say about today princess, you need to be able to keep sucking my cock while Bucky makes you come. Don’t stop, go it?” He wraps his hand in the ponytail and as you nod he allows you to take him in your mouth again.

Bucky’s thrusts are getting frantic as he chases everyone's peaks, and he reaches his vibranium hand to your clit while grabbing Steve with his opposite hand to pull him in for a hard kiss. Both men are panting as they pound into you from both sides, a hand touching each body as your body grows tight with the desire to orgasm. Bucky pinches your pearl and he tells you to come, giving a final hard thrust as he feels your walls clench around him. Like a rubber band, you snap into oblivion, no longer aware of what occurs beyond the throbbing in your pussy and the perfect fullness that surrounds you. You feel the waves of pleasure crash through you, and still both men continue their chase. Hypersensitive and fuzzy, you relax your jaw again and take Steve all the way to the hilt, and you bob your head quickly, sealing your lips around his large base trying to finish him off. Bucky’s thrusts have gone shallow as your walls have him locked like a vice, but you feel him begin to shatter as well. With a final thrust from both men, they spill into you with heavy grunts.

Bucky pulls out of you and Steve lifts you off his softened member, laying you onto the pillows.

“Did we properly defile the uniform, princess?” Steve kisses your forehead as Bucky pulls the garment off you with a smile.

“Yes Sergeant. Thank you Sir.” You nod sleepily, thank each man, and curl into their frames as Bucky climbs under the sheets. “If I had had either of you for teachers, it would have been a shameful garment way sooner,” you chuckle as they share a kiss above you.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes #marvel #stevebucky #steve rogers #steve x reader #Bucky Barnes x reader #Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes #stucky #smut

[wolfstarsthirdwheel]

(I'm a proud Percy Weasley apologist and my birthday is soon, so what do I do? Right answer, I'm posting headcanons about Percy Weasley. I wrote them a few months ago and now I decided to share them. Enjoy

Also pls ignore my shitty grammar)

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(1)Have you ever seen Percy Weasley with short sleeves?

You haven't.

So my headcanon is that Percy Weasley was very overwhelmed by all his work because he always wanted to make his parents proud and be the best

And he was doing self harm from his third year on

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(2)There are

Bill and Charlie

Fred and George

Ron and Ginny

Right?

So Percy was on his own. And as we know, he didn't have that much friends in school

And he has good grades most of the time

So he obviously spends much time in the library

And who's in my headcanon also often in the library? Sad kids that have homesickness or are just sad in general

Maybe they're also overtaxed by the homework

And Percy basically becomes the therapist of the ✨sad library kids✨and helps them with everything he can

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(3)Percy always was disappointed by himself because he couldn't play Quidditch

Like, nearly everyone in his family was so good at it and he wasn't

He tried in his second year, he really did

But he doesn't have the talent

So he forced himself to study more then every other twelve years old student. He wanted to have something he was good at, even better then everyone else

And because he wanted to be the best student he made himself and outsider. He acts like he doesn't mind but he does

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(4)Percy Weasley was so fucking proud of his siblings. No matter what they did, and even if he would yell at them at first because THEY PUT THEMSELVES IN DANGER AGAIN, he would always make sure they now that he is there for them and supports them in whatever they want to do. Unlike Molly, he always believed that George and Fred were incredibly smart and that they would be successful with their plans. Before Harry gave his reward to them, he saved money for their shop

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(5)Percy gives tutoring lessons before the exams, but he never told his siblings because he didn't want to be the one who they made fun of

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(6)Percy was always jealous of Harry. Not because it his money, not because he was famous, not even because of his Quidditch skills. He was jealous because Molly loved him so much. He was jealous because Molly was always there for him, she was the perfect mother. Percy always wanted that

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(7)Percy never trusted Dumbledore

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(8)Percy always protected his siblings from bad rumors. Every time someone said something bad about his siblings Percy stood up for them, no matter who said it or who he made hate him

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(9)Percy Weasley after Fred's death.

Percy doesn't know how to express his emotions, he thinks he doesn't have the right to be as sad as Fred. He blames himself and thinks that everyone does. He has panic attacks and gets kicked out of the ministry for them.

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(10)Percy Weasley didn't label himself at first. Until he was in the third year, he thought he was absolutely straight. Then he met this handsome boy, one year older than him. He had black skin, long, dark curls and his smile! It started with Percy being unable to not think about his smile. Then he always wanted to be around him. Not even touching him, just sitting next to him, looking at him.

From then on he tried to figure out what was wrong with him. He hated the fact that he couldn't solve the mystery about his sexuality. And he is afraid of his outing. He never told anyone except for Bill. Bill told him it wasn't a big deal or false in any way, but Percy never truly accepted himself they way he is.

Now it's optional to add Oliver x Percy

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(11)Percy Weasley didn't spoke until he was almost five years old. Not because he couldn't, but because he just enjoyed listening to his family more.

Then, almost ten years later, percy doesn't talk much again. But this time there's Noone he could listen to. He's alone with his thoughts and doesn't know what to do. So he just writes everything that comes through his mind down. Somehow, his habit to write it all down turns into poetry. Percy Weasley was writing poetry without even realizing it. Then, one day Bill gets home and sees Percy's notebook, and he didn't want to, he really didn't! But his curiosity was stronger and he took it. He just flips through the pages, some filed with words, some filed with sketches, and he just goes like WOW and tells Percy how amazing it is and Percy's like 'no, it's just calming me down, noting special', and Bill leaves it by that. But every time he sees Percy he asks for a look at his newest pages

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(12)Percy has a nervous habit. He stabs his thumbnail in his forefinger until it bleeds. As far as Percy can tell, Noone noticed yet. He just does it when he feels uncomfortable and doesn't think much about it. Somehow, his nervous habit turns into something he can't control any longer, and the wounds at his forefinger are getting Infected with some kind of bacterial stuff and he's like shit. He tries to stop but he can't, it's like an addiction. One time, only once, the twins convinced Percy to have a sip of alcohol with them. Long story short, it ended with Percy leaving as quick as possible because his finger didn't just hurt. It burned, and Percy felt like dying. He didn't know what to do, so he just sits in the library and sobbs until there are no more tears. As he looks at his finger, unable thinking what he was supposed to do, he noticed that it had an unhealthy green, orange, red color. He doesn't exactly know what he should call it, but it defenetly does look concerning. The alcohol in his blood distracts him from finding a way to make the pain go away. He instead thinks of 11 different assignments he has to finish due tomorrow, and he's so overwhelmed with his own thoughts he simply breaks down. He's not crying. He's not shouting. He just sits in the library and doesn't move for nearly two and a half hours, staring at a wall with an empty gaze. The only things he hears are his own thoughts, and damn, they suck.

After his... Yeah, I consider it breakdown. After his breakdown, he can think a little more logical again. He forces himself to get up and walks to the hospitalwing weakly.

#percy weasley headcanon #percy weasley #headcanon #harry potter #Weasley

[siren-dragon]

After Eight -- The Cat Returns fanfic:

So... I had a Ghibli movie marathon recently and remembered my old childhood OTP of Haru and the Baron. Then I read a few fanfics by @catsafarithewriter and landed in another fandom abyss, lol. And that later spawned this au one-shot from a prompt I read. Anyway, this is my first time publishing anything for another fandom so hopefully it’s good. Enjoy! ^_^

AO3 story link

Human AU -- “I need to finish my term paper and you’re the only 24-hour internet cafe open. Help me.”

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The front door of their small flat closed with a soft click as Haru shrugged her backpack higher onto her shoulder and soon hurried down the corridor and out onto the streets with a determined step. To be fair, Hiromi and Tsuge did try their best to accommodate her as she stared helplessly at her computer screen within her bedroom while they giggled and chatted on the sofa. And though Haru managed to continue through her term paper despite the late hour; her concentration quickly began to wane while the tell-tale sounds of snogging managed to reach her ears despite the closed bedroom doors. So, she rather quickly decided to pack up her supplies and laptop, stuff them into her school bag, and exit the flat in an attempt to find somewhere quiet.

Of course, she didn’t really consider the fact that a) it was 10 in the evening on a Friday and b) she would need wifi if she were going to try and continue her paper.

“There has to be somewhere open…” she groaned, having passed another bar filled with her fellow college students enjoying the beginning of their weekend. “Why are there so many bars everywhere?!”

After traversing the streets for a good 20 minutes, all the while debating if she could chance stealing the wifi from a late-night McDonalds, the brunette soon found herself pausing to stare at the building her feet seemed to have led her to. It was a rather quaint building, reminiscent of European cafes with it’s white and green paint and black sunshade. Written beside the glass and wooden doors was a simple plaque with the words The Cat Bureau scrawled across in dark lettering. However, it was the petite sticker smacked boldly on the corner of one of the windows with a drawing of a cat on a laptop reading “free wifi” that nearly made Haru weep tears of joy.

“Oh, thank God; an internet café!” she beamed with delight before hurrying inside.

If she thought the outside was charming, the interior was spectacular. Alongside the windows were various tables with off-set white tablecloths and a small flower vase as a centerpiece, while opposite sat a wrap-around wooden bar complete with stools. The entire room was bathed in a warm, golden glow from the hanging antique light fixtures and Haru couldn’t help but be captured by the small café. “Wow, this place is beautiful…”

“You are too kind Miss,” an accented voice chimed, causing her to swivel to the source.

Standing behind the countertop was a man, perhaps a few years older than Haru herself, offering her a kind smile with a rag in hand. Though Haru was practically half-asleep due to exhaustion and the creeping energy withdrawals her last study-snack tried to prevent, even she couldn’t deny how attractive the man was. Slightly tousled tawny locks and vivid green eyes stared back at her with an intensity that caused her face to take a distinct pink tint. His attire was a bit formal, what with the crimson vest and collared shirt with a bowtie- though his black apron and rolled sleeves didn’t undercut the professional appearance.

“Erm, I’m sorry- were you closing soon? I can leave if you want. It’s just that I saw you had free wifi and I needed a space where I could finish my term paper…”

The man gave a gentle laugh, “no worries Miss, this is a 24-hour café; stay as long as you like. The Bureau doesn’t often receive customers on Friday evenings, what with many preferring venues that serve alcohol.”

Haru grinned, “you’re a life saver. And this place, I’ve never seen such an amazing café before.”

“Thank you, and please sit wherever you like. Make yourself at home. Is there anything you would perhaps like to order?”

Taking a spot at one of the tables near the window, Haru immediately glanced at the menu resting upon the table, looking over the pamphlet for something cheap that would keep her awake. She was rather impressed by the modest selection- ranging from teas and beverages to cakes, sandwiches, and even a few pastries. “I’ll just have a cup of the house blend tea, please.”

The man smiled, “as you wish.”

If the food wasn’t going to bring her back here, the charming waiter certainly was- though as quickly as the thought crossed her mind Haru prayed her internal feelings didn’t make themselves known with the reddening of her face.

Quickly pulling out her laptop and research materials, in an attempt to finish her work and not stare at the handsome waiter, Haru set to work on trying to finish her paper. The quiet atmosphere gave a rather calm and ideal setting, allowing the brunette student’s work to continue at a steady pace. On occasion Haru would steal a glance to the waiter as he set about making her order, humming a gentle tune under his breath before returning to her paper. It was only when the cup and teapot was set gently beside her did Haru startle from her concentration while another plate- this one bearing a slice of angel food cake with whip cream and strawberries found it’s place beside her tea cup.

“Oh! Um, but I didn’t order-“

“On the house,” the man smoothly replied. “Besides, nothing goes better with tea than some angel food cake.”

Haru giggled, saving her work before closing the laptop and setting it aside for the meanwhile. “Thank you very much.” Pour a dash of milk into the cup, she raised it for a tentative sip and blinked in surprise. “Woah, that’s got to be the best tea I’ve ever tasted.”

“You flatter me with your kind words, Miss.”

“Wait, did you make this from scratch?”

The waiter laughed, “indeed I did. That’s my own personal blend, though it tends to be a little different each time so I’m afraid I can’t guarantee the taste.”

“Well, it’s certainly better than the school’s local Starbucks.” Haru complimented, making the man grin. “Did you make the cake as well?”

“Unfortunately, no. While I am no stranger to the kitchen, that particular cake was made by our resident chef Muta. He has a penchant for sweets which has earned quite a following from the locals.”

“I don’t blame them, if the cakes are as good as the tea- I don’t think I’ll be able to go anywhere else.”

This time the man gave a teasing smirk, “and here I thought it was the free wifi drawing in customers.”

Haru laughed, “well, it certainly did help. I’d take a quiet café with wonderful tea over my small flat and a roommate making out with her boyfriend any day.”

“Well, that certainly would cause a bit of a distraction to a working student. If that’s the case, feel free to stay as long as you like Miss.”

“Haru,” she answered back. “My name, it’s Haru.”

He gave her a soft smile that made Haru’s stomach do nervous flips as bright green eyes met her own warm caramel irises. “Humbert von Gikkingen, at your service but please; call me Baron.”

Now it was Haru’s turn to give a small smirk. “So, Baron… this teapot looks like there is enough for another cup or two. Maybe, you would like to share it?”

This time it was Baron’s turn to flush the faintest pink before giving a rather delighted grin and retrieving another cup from behind the counter and taking the seat across from her. “I would be honored. After all, nothing makes a cup of tea better than sharing it with a rather fetching young woman.”

If Haru’s face wasn’t red before, it certainly was now- and judging from the slight mirth dancing in Baron’s eyes, the warmth of her face was easy to spot.

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“I didn’t even know we had a 24-hour internet café near the campus.” Hiromi commented in confusion, “must have been nice since you didn’t come back till after midnight.”

“Hey, I was giving you and Tsuge some space so I could work on my paper.”

Hiromi grinned, “uh huh, then why were you frantically typing this morning in an attempt to finish it? Maybe you got distracted on your little night excursion.”

“Yes, by tea and cake.” Haru answered dryly, trying to keep calm and prevent a tell-tale blush to creep up her face. “Trust me Hiromi, you’ll love the place.”

“Alright Haru, I- hey is this the place?”

The two girls stopped in front of the familiar white and green painted café, same black sunshade up though this time there were a few tables set up outside and a few more customers than the previous night. However, this time, a waitress with white-blonde hair and a pink ribbon around her neck was serving customers outside while inside a tall and thin black-haired man clad in the similar formal attire Baron wore yesterday tend to the waiting patrons. Yet she couldn’t hide the small frown at the lack of Baron’s presence, wondering if perhaps he only covered the evening shift.

It was then did she finally hear Hiromi’s laughter, when the chestnut-haired brunette pointed to a sign on the door. “Haru, you did read the sign before you went in this place last night, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

She merely silently pointed to the hours of operation, which clearly stated that the café was only open from 09:00 AM – 10:00 PM, with it opening later in the morning on Sundays. Haru felt her jaw drop slightly as her face turned cherry red while Hiromi merely laughed louder.

Of course, she did get a slight just desserts when the two friends were seated inside and Haru noticed Baron nearly fly out of the kitchen, hastily tying his black apron before catching her gaze. The black-haired waiter was whispering frantically to him while Baron looked to be offering some polite apology. Though when he caught Haru’s eye he couldn’t help the knowing smile on his face while Haru gave a rather sheepish look as he approached the table to take their order.

“Welcome back, Miss Haru. I hope your paper was a success.”

“Yeah, it really was…. Especially after the extra 2 ½ hours I worked on it last night.” She said with an embarrassed groan. “I am so sorry for butting into your café last night. If I knew you were closed I would have left and-“

“Think nothing of it, you needed somewhere to work and I was happy to help.” Baron replied with a kind, though slightly tired smile from the previous evenings unintentional long shift. “Perhaps… I could suggest another cup of our house blend in the name of bygones?”

Haru gave a shy smile, “yes please.”

“Make it two,” Hiromi added. “And whatever pastry you would recommend.”

“Certainly. I shall return momentarily, ladies.”

As Baron returned to the counter, Hiromi waited perhaps 2.1 seconds before whirling upon Haru with a large grin reminiscent of a satisfied shark. “Do you think he’ll write his number on the napkin for you to take home?”

While Haru didn’t make a point of causing scenes in public places, she couldn’t help flicking a sugar cubes at her friend’s laughing face. Though judging from the laughter dancing in Baron’s vibrant emerald eyes and the tint of pink dusting his cheeks, she wouldn’t be complaining if that was the case.

#the cat returns #neko no ongaeshi #haru yoshioka #baron humbert von gikkingen #haru x baron #one shot #human au #cafe au #fanfiction #my writing

[silverrstarrr]

Normal girl (2)

Note: i just edit this chapter a bit and added more dialog. Someone messaged me and helped me out with a few things, thank you!

Chapter 2:

Walking side by side down the stairs, you took a sip of your coffee and place your herd of keys the side of your book bag. yume was scrolling through her phone on tik tok, drinking from her coconut Carmel ice coffee. You didn't understand why she was drinking ice coffee in mid February, it was cold. It was surprising their wasn't any snow.

Grinning like an idiot, she shaked your shoulder, positioning her phone in front of you–you both watched the tik tok. You didn't laugh at first only smiling, yume kept gesturing you to keep watching, waiting for the punchline. Finally it came up and you both started laughing, you slowly shaked your head placing your hand over your mouth.

"NOOO, nooo. That was so wrong, yall are going to hellll" you whined out.

Yume wiped the tears from her face and continued down the last step. She opened up the door and slid out, you trialing behind her. You both proceeded to walk down the street, where all the park cars were out.

"We riding in rich today girlie, jump in," she lifted up her arm that held her drink, her other reached into her purse and grabbed her car keys.

"I thought we were gonna walk there? It's only 10 minutes." You headed towards her car as she unlocked it and sat in the driver's seat. She had a 2018 dark Grey Nissan altima. You remember her having this ever since junior year, you recalled her talking about getting a newer model since this one was old. Like girl what? Old your ass, if the car still functioning there ain't no problem. White people shit, man.

"Well, it's the first day of sweet college life," she dragged out the last few words, adding a sarcastic tone. Yume tossed her bag in the backseat through the open space from the front, She dropped her drink in the little cup holder as well. Catching up with her, you open the backseat's door and chucked your bag in there–immediately closing it after. You pull the passengers door open and sat down, closing it behind you. Yume did the same–letting out a large sigh as she used her long sleeve to rub her legs, which were freezing.

"Bruh, you were just cold. Shouldn't have wore that skirt knowing it was this cold. Your mother would be disappointed," you moved your head side ways, pretending to be disappointed. You dropped your dunkin' drink in the other cup holder next to hers.

"Y/n, shut upp." Rolling her eyes jokingly, She grabbed the buckled next to her seat and puts it on. You placed your seat belt on too. Automatically, her phone connected to the car, you check over at the screen in the middle. It had the time, the degrees outside and all that other fancy things.

"Wanna play something?" she inserted the keys into the ignition and started the car.

"Yeah, I'll type it in,"

You grabbed her phone, showing the screen to her to unlock it, automatically recognizing her face– the lock screen slid up, revealing all her apps. You went to spotify and played "C U Girl" by Steve lacy.

"OKAAYYY, MS. INDIE TIK TOKER." Yume said nodding her, jamming to song. It was only going to be a 5 minute drive, or 7 if you guys couldn't find parking. She swerved to the left, leaving her parking space and pulling off. You whipped out your phone and paused your music, rapidly switching to snapchat–you heard yume's loud singing.

"I WANNA SEE YOU GUURRLL, I WANNA PLEASE YOU GIRL....GO AHEAD AND BE YOUR GIRL," This girl was jamming her out heart out, steve lacy was her favorite along with Brent faiyaz and many others.

In response, you started cackling as you hit the record button—swiftly turning over it to the driver. Her black ponytail moving as she sang and motioning her head in all different directions. Eyeing towards your direction she sees the phone and leans towards the camera flashing a smile, moving her head side to side—still singing through the lyrics. Yume returned back to the road as she lightly taps the steering, avoiding the horn of course.

Once the quick little vid was done, you added a caption,

"I swear if we crash😭😭💕"

Your thumb jolted between posting it on your private or public. You decided to post on the public story because why not? The song was over pretty quickly as the next one played.

"Who knew white people had rhythm?!" It was obviously sarcasm. You knew she was half Asian but it was fun always calling out her white side.

"Naaahh, white people don't have any rhythm. What you saw there was my miki matsubara pop out". She eases down her breaks– the traffic light turns red. Miki Matsubara? Oh yeah, it's that woman who sung "stay with me". It was a good song, you were obsessed with the chorus mostly. 

You giggled a bit at her remark, you checked your socials once again.

"If this light doesn-" Yume sentence was cut off by the light turning green. She pressed her foot on the gas and carried on with attending class.

                                  ~~~

Pulling up to the parking lot, yume leaned towards her wheel, searching for a place to park. She slowly went down each isle searching for a vacant lot she could snag. You had your drink in between your lips, you took the last sip and shook the plastic cup trying to get a little more. All you heard was ice rattling against one another, dropping the cup back in the holder. You peer out the window looking at the campus, there were a ton of kids, like a lot. Anxiety began spiking up through your veins, this really is the college life, huh? Maria University. It was a school for literally anything, it was one of the biggest universities in the country as well being highly diverse. Yume would be allll the way on the other side of campus while you're slightly in the middle.

"Uggghhh! I regret not leaving earlier, I don't see any open slots." She whined. This was her 2nd time driving around the parking lot looking for a space.

"I said we should walk but nahhh, you wanted to be lazy and take the car." You rolled your eyes as yume, exaggerating, throwing your hands in the air. But you weren't going to be late on the first day. As the generous queen you are, you aided your roomie with looking a space to park. After analyzing for a few moments, you spotted a space and immediately tapped at the window, pointing towards it. Yume car swerved to the left, sliding right into the parking. Taking her keys out the hole, she grabbed her drink and headed out.

"No leaving trash in my car, miss L/n!"

You grabbed your plastic cup and opened the passenger door.

"Yes ma'am," you opened the backseat and grabbed the two bags and closed the door. Beep yume locked her car. She was sipping her coffee but gave a bitter expression when her sweet drink was watered down because of the ice. You looked at your phone, checking the time:

                             8:38 am

                 Monday, February 18th

                                                               38m ago

Kittykiller27, prettygirlnene liked your photo

                                                               45m ago

[Andyhas]: CRONA BECK started following you and 48 others.

Your phone was blowing up from insta notifications. It was time for class and you weren't sure how long it'll even take you to find your classroom. Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you handed yume her own, which she grabbed. You both were speed walking, despite her coffee being ruined she still continued to drink it. It was for the caffeine you guessed. Reaching the sidewalks, it was time to part ways. Yume turned her face towards yours pouting.

"We're leaving each other nooww," she stuck out her bottom lip staring at you. You grabbed her arm, pulling her closer to you. Her arms slithered around your waist, resting her chin on your shoulder–giving you a warm hug. You returned the hug by grunting and holding her tightly.

She started giggling and patted your back a few times, you released your grip and she started to jog in the other direction while looking back, waving at you. You waved back hollering a "BYEEEE!" A trash can was next to you so you dumped your empty dunkin' there.

It was now time for your own adventure, to find this damn classroom. You click the play button on your phone's lock screen, "baby powder by Jenevieve began playing. (Play the song whores👩🏾‍💻)

Walking downwards to the left side of campus, you searched for a pair of doors to go inside of. At this moment, you regretted not going to orientation. That day you were busy setting up your website for your makeup line. You haven't released any products yet, but you had plentiful of ideas and themes you wanted to do. Since it was black history month, maybe you'll drop something as simple as a face cream to help clear and brighten up the skin. But you discarded that thought because you weren't anywhere near ready to start your own small business. Plus, you had bigger things to worry about.

Standing in front of double doors, you grab the handles and pulled it back, you stepped inside while students behind you did the same. You came in slowly, admiring the interior. It was hella spacy with paintings and photos hanging along the walls. Students were roaming the hallways going back and forth from classrooms. Most of the students seemed to be in some sort of costume, or they were dressed fairly well like they were models. You didn't know the directions to your designated class, so you took up the courage to ask someone. You turned to search for someone who didn't seem busy, since most people were rushing to class. Finally you laid eyes on q girl leaning against the wall, typing on her phone. She had long pink acrylic nails, her blonde hair tied into a low ponytail, which complimented her pale skin tone. She had a gold nose piercing on the right nostril.

She seemed nice enough, so you decided to approach her.

"Um excuse me, do you know where Mr. Fargo's class is at?"

The blonde girl averted her eyes from her phone, now focusing on you.

"I'm not really sure—um, I believe it's down that way." She pointed to the right of her.

"Mr. Fargo, he's teaches cosmetic right?"

"Yeah," you replied

"Then I think it should be down there." She scrunched her face in a confusing manner, meaning not to take her word for granted. But you couldn't care less, it was worth a try.

"Ight, thank you." You bid her goodbye. Oop. You accidentally switched your lingo. You were used to speaking in AAVE but you knew how to change your tone and wordplay around others who weren't African American. The girl didn't seen to notice so you just continued down the hall.

"Down... here right..? Yeah this is the way," you murmured to yourself while you strut down the hall. Then turned left as the lady told you. You were now at a hall with multiple doors. Out of all them, you forget the most important, class started in five minutes. You looked to the left as your braids swayed with your movement, then searched to the right. You walked down the hallway, stopping at the fifth door on the left. You were hesitant with grabbing the door, you didn't want to make a fool of yourself walking into the wrong room as all eyes are on you. You pulled out your phone and texted yume.

(I did a different message format just in the previous was confusing)

                 colonizer but times 2🧑🏻‍🦲

       

                        I'm so lost, this is embarrassing.

Lost? What happened

                        

                               Idk where my class is

                             & its starting in a few

You don't know where?? Bruh

Ask someone, im sure they'll help you

                              I did...but she didn't tell me

                                    which class it was😭 all.

she said was "down the hall"

BYEE LMAOO

Uhh

Just open the door you think it is😋       

                      UH- HUH🧏🏾‍♀️ YOU SETTING ME

                               UP FOR FAILURE.

     

       Imagine going into the wrong class and

                 all you see are eyes 👁👁

Girl, half of the people won't even see you again on campus👩🏻‍🏫

If you don't recognize the teacher, try to ask a student close to the door for direction

         Okay, im blaming you if I make a fool.    

                           outta myself 😟

                        Read at 8:43 am

(Play quicksand by SZA rq 👩🏾‍💻)

You decided to take your roomie's advice and pick a class, which you already did.

You dropped your phone back into your jacket pocket and swung open the door–you were prepared for the stares. The classroom was vacant, not even a teacher in sight. Just a bunch of stools and white pull down screens. You saw a few cameras standing in front of these screens. "Was this the photography class or sum?" You mumbled to yourself.

And well, eyes were on you but it wasn't a herd as you expected, just one. Sitting on one of the stools in front of the door, was pale skin boy with long brown hair. It rested at his shoulders, some of it covering his face even. He seemed around 6ft, or 6 ft 2? You couldn't really tell since he was sitting.

He had on some black jeans with a black long sleeve sweatshirt as well with a beige greenish short sleeve unbutton shirt rested on top of it– a long golden key necklace dangled from his chest. His hands were sitting between his lap, you noticed sliver rings on them.(his outfit for people who need help visualizing) The teal eyed boy was also rocking black & white air Jordan 1 retro, literally the same as you.

You screamed internally at how fine this man looked and he had shoe gang? Uggghh. Class been started and you were going to be late on your first because this OBVIOUSLY wasn't your class. You decided to break the awkward silence and speak,

"Hey, um, is this Mr. Fargos class?" You stepped more into the classroom for the brunette male to hear you.

"Wrong one, babe. His class is in a totally different building." A different building?! You wanted to die right there and then, especially after hearing him laugh after his statement. Not just the wrong class but the wrong building? Bye–you're so stupid. His eyes scanned your body, his eyes lingered a bit longer at your shoes–it seems he noticed. A smirk appeared on his lips after finishing his quick outfit interrogation–wait, did he just call you-? I-, yes he did. You tried your best to hide your smile and not react.

"O-ooo, I got it. Thanks" Eren released a small chuckled seeing your reaction, he could tell you were caught up with the little pet name.

"I'll walk you over there." He got off his stool and walked towards your direction.

"I-, nah it's good, I got it." You said in defense not wanting to bother him. He didn't respond and just passed by you, exiting the classroom. He held onto the door, looking at you.

"You coming or no?" He was so nonchalant with it everything. You smiled a bit and walked out the class alongside with him. He released his grip once you were out and started trialing behind you.

You paused for a moment because you didn't know where you were going. You turned back to look at him, he caught on and let out an "ah". He quickly got in front of you as you proceeded behind him.

"So," he said.

"What?" You replied. Why did he start a sentence and not finish it? Was he expecting you to start the conversation, weirdo. You just wanted to get to class l.

"Oo, sassy are we?" He raised a brow.

"What—? boy, say what you wanna say."

Once again, he let out a chuckle, flashing you a small. God, was his laugh attractive.

"You're into makeup and stuff?" He questioned.

"Yeah, I'm into 'makeup and stuff' " You said the last few words in the mocking tone, referring to what he called cosmology.

"That's good, at least I'll be seeing you often."

"Often? Oh, are you in that major also?" You said.

"No...Do you really not know anything?" He made you feel dumb by his response. How were you suppose to know what he meant? You clicked your teeth and started walking ahead. You pushed back the door that lead to another hallway and walked towards the end to push the second door that lead to another building.

The brunette boy watched as you left him behind in the dirt, waiting for the moment you'll turn the wrong corner—so he could tease you about it then correct you.

It wasn't too long till you reached your destination, you both stopped in front of the class's door.

"Well, see you. I hope you don't make snarky remarks to every girl you meet."

"Nah, only you princess." He had a smirk on his face, ooo! You wanted to wipe it off.

You glanced at him and his eyes were already on you, you broke eye contact and reached for the handle.

"Wait–" you whipped your heard back.

"Yeah?"

He cleared his throat

"Name's Eren," you let out a small giggle, did he really just stop you to say his name? Puhleasee. Hearing your laugh, his face brightened up and kept his eyes on you.

"Okay, Eren~. Thank you for walking me, I gotten get to class now."

You opened the door and stepped inside. Eren didn't even get a chance to ask your name. Luckily for him, your major mingled a lot with his own, he could only hope to see you again around campus.

‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿‿

Authors note: UGHHH, I STAYED UP ALL NIGHT FOR THIS just to pass out a few hours before school started. 🥲 I wasn't even paying attention in English and math class, but hope yall enjoyed <3.

Pt 3

#x reader #attack on titan #eren headcanons #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager #anime #eren yeager x y/n #eren x black reader #eren yeager x you #aot x black reader #eren jeager #eren jaeger x reader #connie springer #aot season 4 #eren smut #fanfic #anime fanfic