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softykooky · 4 years

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the habits of a broken heart.

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

☾ pairing : jeon jungkook x reader

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

alternatively,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deeply and blindly in love.

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

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

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

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

But he would come to learn that the higher the climb...the harder the fall.

Jungkook and Yoojung were together for the better part of 4 years before she cheated on him with a guy that she’d supposedly met a couple weeks ago. When Jungkook screams at her asking why she had been disloyal, Yoojung shows him her wrist. Her single inked star.

“I found my soulmate, Jungkook. And I love you so much, you know I do. I didn’t know how to tell you so I…”

The rest of her words fade into white noise and all Jungkook can do is look at her and commit every detail to memory as he feels her fade farther away. Her teary and remorseful brown eyes. Her plush lips. The fan of her eyelashes and the mole on the side of her temple. He’ll never get to see her like this again.

“I was ready to be with you, soulmate or not. I know it’s not fair but I wanted the same from you”, he whispers, falling down on the couch and burying his face in his hands.

“Soulmates be damned, the universe was wrong. I was so hideously in love with you. How could you not at least tell me when you met him?” Jungkook feels his heart collapsing in on itself with every word of resignation. Of burgeoning acceptance. Yoojung can only mirror his desolate expression and stares down at the star on her skin.

Jungkook wishes it were a moon.

“Just go, Yoojung.”

It would have hurt less if it was only a one night stand with a stranger she did not know the name of. He was in love and spineless enough to move past a one night stand. However, Yoojung had found her soulmate and fallen in love with him. Jungkook had merely acted as a placeholder for the real deal to come along and sweep her off her feet.

This time he doesn’t cry. Just stares out the window of his living room and wonders what it would be like to disappear altogether. When the door is slammed shut, and he is left to nurse his aching soul, Jungkook apologizes in advance to the person that shares the same mark on their wrist as him. He no longer believes that soulmates exist.

When Jungkook looks back at his 13 year old self with the innocent construct of what heartbreak feels like, he wants to laugh and maybe slap that stupid boy upside the head. Yoojung had destroyed him. Destroyed the innocent and starry-eyed person that he’s tried so hard to preserve. Destroyed his vulnerability and bright outlook on life and in their place, cultivated walls of rock and steel meant to keep everyone out and him safely tucked inside. In her wake, Yoojung left behind a shell of a man who pushed his emotions so deep he became numb and forgot what it was like to feel.

So Jungkook does what he always does to push away the hurt. He changes his major; to art history this time. He stacks up bracelets on his wrist to forget the mark of a moon. He scrapes up his rainy day money and treats himself to the most expensive pair of Saint Laurent boots he’s ever worn. He tests the limits of the human liver, and takes advantage of the biceps and jawline he’s acquired since high school to establish a reputation.

To his friends, Jungkook remained raucous and always down to order infinite rounds of shots until he couldn’t see straight. To those that looked even closer, Jungkook was so completely shattered he didn’t even feel it anymore.

The second time he had his heart broken, Jungkook was 23. He promised himself he wouldn’t let it happen again.

◐

“For the last time, Jimin, I’m not going to give you a blowjob so you can pay for my student loans.”

You don’t know how many times you’ve had this conversation with your roommate. Most of the time, it was convenient to have a roommate whose parents were loaded and sent him monthly installments that looked more like small loans than allowances. You knew he just wanted to help. Heck, he probably would be willing to pay them off for you without the promiscuous favor, but you had made it clear to Jimin that you wouldn’t be riding off of his charity.

“Ugh, Y/N you’re really no fun”, he sighs, falling backwards onto your twin-sized bed and feigning devastation. You reward his melodrama with a giggle, ruffling your hands through his fried hair. Jimin had a knack for changing his hair color as quickly as his mood.

You look at the bill that’s staring back at you from your computer screen, and it feels like it’s just reached out and punched you in the face. “Hey do you think it’s a common mistake for bank tellers to add a few too many zeroes?”

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m rationalizing as a self-defense mechanism.” Sometimes it was annoying that your roommate had a degree in psychology. Then again, Jimin was making more money than you and your degree in English.

You sigh deeply and look up at the ceiling in attempts to quell your tears of frustration. And also because it is a plea to whoever is up there controlling your destiny: please I’m begging you. Melt my debt away.

You and Jimin sit in comfortable silence and he plays with the hem of your worn comforter while you scroll through the emails you have been ignoring in your inbox. You want to smash your head in at all the deadlines. Times like these, there is one thing that brings you comfort and always has since you turned 18.

The quaint little crescent moon that sits right atop your radius.

You had a habit of pressing your thumb against it and feeling your pulse against the mark, stupidly wondering if your soulmate’s heartbeat has synched up with your own. If he was out there somewhere, touching his mark and wondering the same about you. He was taking his sweet time, that’s for sure. Jimin sees your nervous tic and sighs again.

“You’re so hopelessly romantic it makes me want to barf, Y/N.” You scowl at his words and chuck a pillow at his unsuspecting face.

“I don’t understand you, Jimin. Your soulmate is out there and you’re not the slightest bit curious? You don’t want to do anything extra to find them?” Jimin looks at you with a knowing smile.

“That’s exactly it, though. I know they’re my soulmate and I’ll find them when the time is right. So why worry about it? It’s better not to force anything.” His statement is followed up with a grin and his fingers reach out to pinch your cheeks. This was the dynamic of your friendship. He is easy-going and flows like a careless river. You’ve read one too many books to not vie and daydream for the moment you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Your mom always said that you’ll know just from a look. It’s like getting hit over the head with a ray of sun, she said. Like suddenly their eyes are the only eyes you ever want to look into again. Since then, you’ve dreamt for the day you find someone with that same moon on their wrist. For now though, you had more immediate concerns more along the lines of crippling debt.

“What do I do, Jimin? Should I be a stripper?” He laughs and the thought makes you groan. You couldn’t even walk in heels, much less try to dance or look like you didn’t have two left feet. Stripper life just wasn’t for you.

“Hm...I could call in a few favors for you at the office. Get you an internship or secretary position.”

“Maybe. Too much nepotism. Your father owns the office you work at”, you remind him, and his eyebrows crease further in thought. God, maybe you do have to be a stripper.

“Wait!” Jimin yelps so suddenly you almost fling the computer off your lap.

“I think I know someone. He’s been looking for a model for his art portfolio or something, and he said he’s willing to pay.” Jimin reaches for his phone and his thumbs type up a storm while you watch from the sideline.

“I think he mentioned it’s about a month-long project. You’d just have to be on call whenever a stroke of genius arrives.”

“That sounds great! I’m an amazing model!” you crow, to which Jimin giggles again.

“The several candids I have in my camera roll tell a different story, Y/N.” Naturally, he receives another pillow to the face. But you follow up with a cheery kiss to his cheek as you rejoice in the new opportunity for cash flow by a celebratory dance, which looks more like a wiggle when you remain seated on your bed.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”, you chirped, “I owe you one.”

“Hey...I know how you can repay me.”

When you look towards him, his eyebrows are raised inquisitively and there’s a devilish smirk on his lips.

Jimin gets a third pillow to his face that day.

◓

Jungkook’s favorite type of arguments to get into is whether Neo-classicism or post-impressionism had the most impact on European art and architecture. Call him a snob, but he loves to prattle on about Degas and Caillebotte until his opponent tires or concedes out of pure exhaustion. Jungkook regards it as a battle strategy: bore your enemy so that they stop fighting.

He’s in the middle of a heated debate with his classmate from graduate school when he receives a phone call from Park Jimin. Now, Jungkook has no idea how or when Jimin became an installment in his life, or how he’s roped his way into his inner circle. He just remembers waking up one day with a killer hangover and finding that there was a pink-haired stranger lying on his floor. When he tried to shoo him out, the stranger shoved a wad of money in his shirt pocket, muttering “just five more minutes”, and Jungkook was in no position to deny easy cash. Jungkook now considers Jimin one of his close friends.

“What’s up, Jiminie?” He laughs into the microphone.

“I told you not to call me that, you brat. I’m older than you.”

“I’m taller than you.”

“My dick is bigger.”

“I-okay fine you got me there.” He hears Jimin wheeze over the line as he tries to rein himself in to say what he needs to say.

“In all seriousness, though. I have a proposition for you.” Jimin lilts in a mischievous tone, which makes Jungkook nervous enough to get up from the café table he had been sitting at with his friend and careen to a quieter corner.

“Shoot.”

“Okay, so you know how you were telling me about your portfolio for the gallery. The one you have to submit by the end of the season? How you needed a model on call 24/7 in case inspiration struck?”

Jungkook wants him to spit it out because he has been searching high mountains and low valleys for someone that would be willing to be his muse for a month or two. Constantly at his beck and call so he can finish this damn portfolio and get his name out there in the art world. Maybe start debating post-impressionism with the cream of the crop.

“I think I’ve found someone to do that for you.” Jungkook exhales in relief at his words.

“She’s my roommate and she’s super low on cash and unemployed with a bachelor’s in English literature, so she’s got time to spare.” Perfect. That way, Jungkook can call her whenever he needs to.

“That’s amazing, Jiminie. Can she meet me at the art building tomorrow at noon? We can start right away.” Jungkook breathes through the phone, a small weight coming off his shoulders now that another thing had been accomplished. One less thing he had to worry about on the journey to his goal. Jimin confirms the plans and they exchange pleasantries before Jungkook hangs up as the man on the other line starts screaming about his burning lunch on the stove.

Jungkook catches sight of the mark on his wrist when he looks down, and quickly rearranges his bracelets so that it is once again covered to his eyes. Out of sight and out of mind.

The gallery portfolio had been a thorn in his side. It had been months in the making and if he allows himself to reminisce, Jungkook remembers the nights he and Yoojung stayed up until dawn and talked about his blossoming interest in art. How he wanted a space of his own to display his works. Back then, she listened to him with stars in her eyes and basked in the afterglow of post-coital cuddling, promising that she would help him achieve it.

His heart sinks at the memory of the imprint of her tresses of hair spilling on his bedspread. He burned those sheets the second she left.

Jungkook represses his intrusive thoughts about Yoojung and wills her to get out of his head. He forces it down until it feels like he’s just dumped ice water over his heart and vomited out any semblance of emotion. He makes his way back to the cafe table with a sly smile that hides the internal ache he’s promised himself to never let anyone suspect of.

“So what were you saying about Renoir’s Moulin de la Galette?”

◑

The art building is situated besides a library, with a bakery flanking its left. Two years spent at the university, and you’ve never once stepped foot there. Maybe it was the daunting abstract sculpture on the front lawn or the prejudices you held against annoying art snobs on their high horses, but you often found yourself subconsciously avoiding the space in intimidation.

“Okay, Y/N, you’re going to do this so you can pay off your loans”, you whisper under your breath, words meant for your ears and no one else’s. “And if he asks you to pose nude, you run the opposite direction.”

It was easy to get lost in the building. For art students that know how to draw, they really took advantage of abstractionism to make the most confusing map you had ever seen in your life. Luckily, with some direction from the vapid front desk secretary and some intuition, you were able to to find room 62B. You don’t think you’ll be able to forget the number 62B if you tried, Jimin had screamed it to you so many times as you left the apartment.

The door soundlessly opens with a nudge of your hand and you stick your head inside.

“You know when Jimin told me he found me a model, he didn’t mention her lack of punctuality.” His voice is calm and subdued with no lingering annoyance, even if his words are uncourteous. You whip around to him and the first sight you see of Jeon Jungkook is merely a tuft of brown hair behind a vast canvas. And some expensive looking leather boots that anchor his feet to the ground.

You clear your throat and approach with an outstretched hand and the shiniest smile you can muster.

“I’m Y/N. Jimin’s roommate. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You can call me Jungkook.”

It is when he steps out from behind the canvas that you finally understand what your mother meant when she said meeting your soulmate feels like getting hit over the head with a ray of sunshine. You can’t describe it any other way, but that’s exactly what it feels like. Like the air becomes so sweet in your lungs it turns to viscous honey. Like suddenly the person standing in front of you is Valentine, encapsulated.

You know he feels it too, yet you don’t know why he forces himself to remain blasé, and if you hadn’t seen his widened eyes and heard the gasp from his lips you would have never suspected anything at all. Stranger courtesy is abandoned and you forcefully grab his wrist, turning it over to find his mark while pulling up your sleeve to reveal your own.

A little black crescent moon.

Right on the pulse point.

Just like your’s.

When you finally muster up the nerve to look into his eyes again, you wonder if it is healthy for the human heart to beat so fast and so thunderously it feels ready to jump out of your chest. Jungkook, however, still wears that same expression on his face. Flat and cold, not even a glimmer in his eyes. He stares at you disinterested and wrenches his wrist from your grasp.

“Wait, Jungkook...aren’t you….”, you sputter through a desperate smile, “aren’t you happy?” He stays silent and trains his attention on the canvas in front of him, but you can see the conflict that swirls in his iris.

“I’ve been looking for you for so long! And I’ve finally found you. In the art building no less, just my luck that-”

“Y/N, I don’t know what you expect from me but I’m not looking for anything right now.”

There were no objectively ugly words. But you think the ones that have just spewed from Jungkook’s lips come pretty close. They stoke a fire in your chest.

“What do you mean? We’re soulmates”, you faltered, sinking deeper into confusion as you stare at the unaffected man in front of you, whose only concern is the conglomerate of paint on his palette.

Jungkook sighs monotonously. Almost as if he had better things to do than be here.

“It’s only a mark on your wrist. And we just happen to have the same one. Amazing that you still think somehow one single person was made entirely just for you.” His words are bored and he doesn’t even have the decency to look you in the eye when he speaks. You think you might want to punch him if you weren’t so speechless.

“Look”, he sighs as if you were inconveniencing him, “I’m not going to sugarcoat it and tell you that I’m the one you’ve been looking for this whole time. We have the same mark, but...I’m not the guy you want.”

“B-But...I’m your soulmate. We-we’re made for each other.”

Jungkook scoffs harshly, and you want to sink into the ground. “That’s just a silly myth.”

“So you don’t...believe in soulmates?” The words felt wrong to say when all your life, finding your soulmate felt like the ribbon at the end of the finish line. But here he was now, and you felt so small under his gaze. Like you weren’t meant to be there and standing in the same room with him was a concoction for heartbreak.

“No.”

Jungkook’s syllable pangs in your ear, and you think it might be your least favorite sound. Then you leave. And if it was hard for you to meet your soulmate - the person who you’re destined to be with - who doesn’t believe in you, then walking away from him was a different cross to bear.

You take the bus home and ignore the glare of strangers when you burst into tears at a red light, and cry the rest of the way back. Your mother hadn’t described this. She prosed on and on about the feeling one gets after finding a soulmate but never mentioned to you how it feels when you find out they want nothing to do with you. What do you do when you realize the person you’ve been chasing for forever has been trying to run away at the same time?

Jimin holds you together that night on your bedroom floor, while you break apart and scratch at the moon on your wrist until your skin breaks. He listens to the words you sputter; as much as he can decipher when they are drowned out by the painful sound of your sobbing. Jungkook’s beliefs bleed into your consciousness. Perhaps he is right and perhaps there is no such thing as true soulmates, and the marks are obsolete.

However, when you fall asleep in your friend’s arms from the physical fatigue of violent crying and the sheer mental exhaustion of meeting Jeon Jungkook, your mind comes to a more painful conclusion.

A more truthful conclusion.

Your soulmate only needed to meet you to decide that he did not want you.

◒

Jungkook doesn’t believe in soulmates. He thinks they’re a stupid coy to give people false hope. An illusion to feign happiness and to take Yoojung away from someone she genuinely loved. Though in the hours of the night, when he is by himself and the bed feels too big for one body, Jungkook wonders if there is truly a reason why someone has an identical moon on their wrist. But he is still so broken and unhealed from the wounds Yoojung left behind.

So instead of soulmates, he thinks about what she must be doing. If she’s eating well. If she’s moved in with her own soulmate and if they’re happy together. Jungkook is an involuntary masochist and he pays for it with every pillowcase that becomes stained with his tears.

He sighs out an expletive after downing a shot of whiskey, relishing in the familiar burn as it slides down his throat. Alcohol doesn’t seem to be working efficiently, though. He’s only barely tipsy after years in college building tolerance, and he can still see your face each time he blinks. Like you are imprinted on the back of his eyelids. Jungkook wonders why Jimin had cancelled on the group tonight.

There is a little devil called remorse and it stands atop his shoulder, unseen by everyone but him, and Jungkook decides he will get rid of it by calling another round of shots. From his seat in the dirty booth, he can see Min Yoongi and his soulmate practically dry humping on the dance floor. If anyone asks him if he ever gets jealous seeing soulmates happy and in love, he’ll laugh in their face and tell them he pities people like that. People that are so blinded by the system. But loneliness is a stern mistress and it makes him think of you. How lovely the moon looks on your wrist. How your hand felt so warm when it caressed against his skin.

He tips his head back again. Vodka this time.

“Dude, are you okay?”

To his right comes Kim Taehyung, designated driver extraordinaire, and he looks at Jungkook with friendly concern laced with amusement. Jungkook nods contentedly.

“Soulmates are so bullshit, Tae”, he snickers, fingers tracing the rim of the shot glass and smirk on his face to mask the bitterness of both the alcohol and his heart. Taehyung spares a knowing glance, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder with the weight of knowledge of Jungkook’s past.

The night is young and so is he. He drinks until he can no longer taste the liquor and forgets altogether about what had happened only a couple of hours before. Until the crescent mark on his skin just looks like a shapeless black blob, and it makes him smile. He thinks he likes it better that way.

Taehyung drops him home and personally tucks him into bed while he is still in jeans and his shirt smells like the bar. His sleep is dreamless that night. When the morning comes and his friends tease him about how he begged Taehyung not to leave, Jungkook will laugh and blame the alcohol for his foggy memory. He won’t tell them that he does remember, and that he was only grasping at any warm body to soothe his aching loneliness.

◐

Usually when he first opens his eyes in the morning, Jungkook is thinking about the next class he has to attend and if he is late (which is usually most of the time). This morning, albeit morbidly hungover, Jungkook thinks of the apple strudels they sell at the bakery next to the art building. Mrs. Kim always gets the pastry to filling ratio just right. But when he opens the door with a jubilant smile on his face and the scent of baked goods already in his nostrils, Jungkook has a feeling apple strudels will have to wait.

There you are. In all your messy-haired glory, huffing like a caged bull in the doorway of his apartment, fiery gaze directed completely at him and all he can think to say is:

“How do you know where I live?” Jungkook schools his face expressionless in your presence. He hopes this will discourage you, but it only makes you angrier.

“Park Jimin”, you snarl.

Of fucking course, it’s always Park Jimin. Jimin who drunkenly sleeps in his bedroom and now Jimin who is leaking his address to any stranger.

“Um”, Jungkook stammers and takes a step back, “what are you doing here? Didn’t I get my point through yesterday?” He can see the statement catching you off guard, and the fury in your eyes dwindles to dejection. Only for a millisecond though, before you are aiming your wrath at him once again.

You take a deep breath. “What is wrong with you?”

Jungkook can think of a lot of answers to that query. He opts to interpret it as a rhetorical question and keep his mouth shut.

“You just...found your soulmate! I’m your soulmate! And you don’t even want to get to know me? At all?”, you scream exasperatedly. Jungkook catches the gaze of a middle aged lady who is not-so-discreetly staring at the two of you, and pulls you inside his apartment by your arm. If you weren’t so frustrated, you would have been flustered at the physical contact.

“Listen. Soulmates don’t end up together all the time. I’ve told you I’m not really interested in anything right now and it’s not a priority”, he takes a breath through his passionate monologue, “and I’m sorry that that’s not something you expected, but I….don’t want a soulmate.”

Maybe...he just doesn’t want you.

When he says them out loud to a living breathing person, Jungkook realizes how cruel it sounds. He can see it in the way your eyes have become glossy under his living room lights and the way you shrink into yourself as self-defense against his blows. He rationalizes that he’d rather tell you the truth than lie to you now, only to hurt you later. Really, he’s doing you a kindness. Right?

You turn your back to him to gather your thoughts, and wipe the tears that you refuse to let him see. The salty drops sting the raw skin of your wrist after last night, and you are brutally reminded of the current reality. His brutal honesty makes you want to abandon all hope, but you were a woman with a plan. You came here for a reason, not to just lose your temper in your soulmate’s apartment and tell him what you really thought about him.

“I have a proposition for you”, you asserted calmly, staring Jungkook in the eye as he remains unbothered.

“Now I reckon something’s happened to you to make you lose all your faith in soulmates, so I’m not forcing you to do anything you don’t want to do.” Your eyebrows furrow when you speak focusedly.

“We don’t have to be together. That’s your will. But…”, you hesitate, pushing past the uncertainty and fear of another rejection from Jungkook, “will you let me at least try? You don’t have to promise anything. Can we just start as friends?”

Naturally, Jungkook wants to shoot down your offer, kick you out of his apartment, and pretend like he never met anyone by the name of Y/N. Call it divine intervention but when he looks at you, pleading for any semblance of connection, he feels a tug at his heart strings. So Jungkook makes another promise to himself. He would let you “try”, whatever that entails. But there was no virtual possibility of letting you any closer than necessary.

You both stand in contemplative silence before he lets out a resigned sigh. “On one condition”, he responds slowly, but there is already a premature grin growing on your face and you don’t think you could stop it even if you tried.

“You still have to be my model for the art portfolio.”

You agree before he even gets to take another breath.

“Deal.”

When you finally make your way out of Jungkook’s apartment, parting ways with an awkward number exchange and a ‘see you later’, there is a simultaneous feeling of hope and desolation. The optimism for Jungkook combines with the insecurity that perhaps you, just as you are, is not nearly enough to make someone fall in love. Especially someone who disregards their soul connection to you.

You walk back to your apartment with a heavy heart that warms with embers of determination. Jeon Jungkook was an enigma. A Bastille fortress of self-defense mechanisms and destructive tendencies, and you know that there is unresolved pain. Call it a soulmate instinct or something, but you see it in his eyes. You see it in the way his face begs to show emotion but his mind refuses to acknowledge.

You know Jungkook is not obligated to accept you after the dust settles, much less fall in love with you. Under the peach blossoms of the campus sidewalk, you make a promise anyway. To yourself and to your soulmate and the silly little mark on the inside of your wrist. Even if he does not love you, you vow to help Jungkook learn to love himself.

◓

When you are harshly woken up at 5:30 in the morning, the last person you expected to be blowing up your phone was Jeon Jungkook. If it weren’t for the pure exhaustion seeping through your bones, you would have been excited about your soulmate calling you. Alas, slumber was your soulmate now. Jungkook would have to step down.

On the other side of the paper thin wall, Jimin is frustratedly banging from his room, your ringtone reverberating throughout the entire apartment. You pick up his call without even opening your eyes.

“Hello?”

“Y/N I need you to come to my apartment as soon as you can.” There is no sleepiness in his voice. Just clean and cold like it always is and he has hung up before you get the chance to scold him for waking you up at this unholy hour. You’re about to give him a piece of your mind but you remember he is paying you very handsomely for your efforts, and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed to call an uber. Thank god he doesn’t live too far away otherwise you’ll stick a foot through his canvas for the transportation bill.

The front of Jungkook’s apartment door is strangely therapeutic, and you find yourself falling asleep standing up after you’ve rung the doorbell. Either time passes too slowly when you are sleep-drunk or Jungkook moves to get the door as quickly as your grandfather does. Whatever the case, you are about to pass out on his doorstep if he doesn’t come soon.

“Y/N, why are you just standing there? The door has been open.”

“Jungkook. Why are you making me do this so early?”, you yawn, pushing inside the apartment.

Jungkook takes in your discombobulated appearance, and almost wants to laugh. You were still in your pajamas, and the bun on your head now looked more like a heaping blob that drooped down your temple. It was obvious that you had just rolled out of bed and he almost feels bad for disturbing your sleep, but he does not decide when his strokes of inspiration spontaneously appear.

The living room is bombarded with Jungkook’s art supplies and stray canvases, and you take note of the clay sculpting table that blends in as furniture next to his kitchen. You plop yourself down on the stool across from Jungkook’s easel, eyes still half closed and impossibly tired.

In this moment, Jungkook wipes the fact that you are his soulmate from his mind. He needs to do the portfolio. That is all he’s keeping you around for, and the only reason he agreed to your plan was so that you would remain his art model.

In the silence of his makeshift art studio, Jungkook paints whatever comes to his mind, referencing your figure on the stool for the curves he can never get right without a model and need for a human presence to translate onto his canvas. You become more lucid as time goes by and the sun starts to rise from outside his window, sitting up straighter and paying more attention to his concentrated face as Jungkook pours himself into his creation.

Looking at him in this light, you realize that he is beautiful. And not just because he’s your soulmate. Jungkook’s hair is scruffy and stubbled, undereyes sporting impressive dark circles. But the way he caresses the paintbrush and the way his body moves to the beat of the painting is poetic. He glances at you sporadically, eyes darting to and fro to capture as much as he can before the creativity burns out. He is beautiful and it makes your heart ache to know that he does not want you. In spite of the bond the universe has created.

You wonder if in his focused hazed, he notices the new glaze across your eyes and the silent sound of your soul calling out for his. You wipe away the first dripping tear as quickly as it came. You know Jungkook sees, but does not bat an eye and you can’t tell if you’d rather prefer him to acknowledge it.

It’s 8:00am when he puts the paintbrush down, takes a step back, and surveys his work. His eyes trail over each organic line and areas where he decided to use burnishing instead of cross hatching. It’s far from perfect, but it’s enough.

“Okay. You’re free to go”, he announces, plucking the painting off the easel and resting it against the wall, hidden from your eyes.

“W-What? That’s it?”, you sigh disappointedly, “you’re not even going to let me see it?” Jungkook shrugs. His detachedness makes you want to rip your hair out and sob into your pillow at the same time. You don’t understand how a person could be so unfazed.

“S’not ready for debut. Thanks for showing up, though.” He doesn’t spare you another glance. Just goes back to cleaning his brushes and dumping out the glasses of murky paint water. You ignore the twinge of hurt in your chest and slide off the stool.

“Okay, fine. Now it’s my turn. Would you like to go have some breakfast?”, you smile expectantly to Jungkook, who stares at you with an indifferent gaze. His first instinct is to make up a half-assed excuse to get out of this, eager to detach himself from you as much as possible and avoid any more interaction. However, he was insanely hungry, and the glimmer in your eye just looks so hopeful even Jungkook couldn’t bear to shoot you down.

He sighs with resignation. A little breakfast couldn’t hurt, and he wasn’t going with you necessarily. You were just...going to the same cafe in the same direction as him and likely sitting at the same table. Yeah, that’s it.

“Hurry up, I’m hungry.”

“Wait...actually?”

You blinked in shock at his lack of resistance.

“Yes. Now come on. I know a place with really great apple strudels.”

You weren’t aware that by ‘breakfast’, Jungkook actually meant sitting in complete silence and wolfing down food like your life depends on it. You want to be grossed out when he inhales 3 apple strudels in less than 10 minutes, crumbs flaking on his shirt without a care in the world. Yet you just feel endeared. The sight makes you smile. And maybe if Jungkook did not detest you, you would have leaned over and kissed the cinnamon sugar right off his lips.

“So….”, you sip on a sweet coffee, “Jimin told me you’re going for a masters in art history?”

Jungkook nods halfway through a bite of his pastry. “Yup.”

“Is it something you’re really passionate about?” you inquire, desperately wanting the conversation to delve into something that wasn’t so surface level.

“Uh huh.”

“What are some other things you’re interested in besides art?”

“Totally.”

Jungkook is completely clueless. He only spares glances to the windows and occasional looks to his oh so precious breakfast treats. You want to slap him and be angry, but you only sigh. It shouldn’t be so hard to talk to your soulmate, yet it felt like trying to pull teeth when he was so completely disinterested in you. You wonder if this is worth it.

You look up at him from your steaming cappuccino cup and use your wildcard.

“In my opinion, Botticelli’s Birth of Venus did little for the Italian Renaissance movement.”

Your statement almost has Jungkook falling backwards in his chair and choking on a piece of fruit filling, eyes growing as wide as saucers when he finally processes what you just said. A flaming insult to the entire art historian community.

“What do you know about Botticelli?”, he sneers, and you internally celebrate for this is the most emotion Jungkook has shown since meeting you.

“I know that his work supposedly epitomizes the spirit of the Renaissance”, you swirl the coffee in your cup nonchalantly, lips curving into a knowing smirk. “But if you ask me, Bellini’s San Giobbe Altarpiece did much more to encapsulate the values of 15th century Italy.”

Jungkook’s speechless expression is one that you want to take a snapshot of and frame it to your wall. It is glorious, and arguably more artful to you than Botticelli himself. So what, you had conveniently forgot to mention to him about the class you took junior year of college, with a professor that made you engrave the fundamentals of Italian painting in your brain. It’s so much more gratifying to see him stunned silent.

Across the table from you, Jungkook feels a warm smile itching to display itself. Before it can appear, he disguises it as a cold smirk. He feels something akin to a butterfly at the pit of his stomach, but blames it on indigestion and the inhuman pace at which he devoured his breakfast. Yeah that must be it. There was no way he was feeling butterflies.

He cracks his knuckles, raises his cup to gulp down a lukewarm green tea, and rests his elbows on the table separating the both of you.

“I don’t suppose you could tell me your thoughts on the influences of neo-classicism in the 18th century?”

◑

“No, Y/N, turn to your left a little”, Jungkook frustratedly sighs behind the camera lens.

“Your left or my left?”

He pauses. “....left.”

To any outside eye, you and Jungkook look like two buffoons trying to take pictures on what might possibly be the windiest day of the season, under the peach blossom trees. Jungkook had called you earlier that day and stressed about how he needed mixed media in his beloved portfolio, and photographs were the next topic of interest. Though you couldn’t understand why he couldn’t just set out a fruit bowl on his windowsill and call it still life photography.

Jungkook stares down at his camera, dissatisfaction clear on his face. You almost want to apologize for your abhorrent modeling skills but hey, he was the one that chose you.

“Hmm...try staring at that boat in the distance”, he dictates, standing beside you and aiming the lens at your side profile. You do as he asks, but don’t hear the shutter of the camera. Jungkook sighs again and leans forward, so close you could feel his warm breath hitting your skin. You hope he doesn’t notice the beet blush on your cheeks.

Jungkook’s hands meet your chin when he uses it to slightly tilt your face downwards. He positions you in the way that he wants you to pose and you finally understand why photography is considered an art. Because it’s almost as if Jungkook is molding you like clay, to get the silhouette he wants to capture with his camera lens. The day is brisk, but his skin on your’s lights you on fire.

“Okay, that’s…..that’s perfect”, Jungkook breathes, hurriedly picking up the camera that had been hanging onto his neck by the strap and angling it. At the moment his index finger presses down on the button, there is a gust of wind that surrounds the both of you.

The breeze loosens a strand of your hair and it falls into your eyes. You let your eyes drift close for a second, smiling into the cold air that tingles on your skin. Jungkook’s breath catches in his throat and he thanks the skies for the howling wind so you wouldn’t be able to hear his thumping heartbeat. But surely it’s only because it’s cold. And absolutely nothing else. Jungkook coughs inconspicuously to snap himself out of his trance, sighing in relief when he realizes your eyes are still closed and that you hadn’t noticed his internal struggle.

He drags you to a bridge next and makes you lay on the cold wood to which you vehemently object before you remember that he’s paying you and that you want him to fall in love with you, not dislike you more than he already does. After the bridge, Jungkook makes you kneel beside the park pond and dip your hand in the icy water and you find yourself wanting to do the same thing to his precious camera.

Before the two of you have realized, the sun sets into the horizon and tinges the sky in a combination of purples and pinks that Jungkook himself has a hard time replicating on canvas. He aims his lens at the clouds and takes a picture that he knows won’t make it into his gallery. He just felt the need to have something to remember this day by. For no reason in particular…

A buzzing coming from your coat pocket alerts you both of the time that has passed and how the sky has considerably darkened since you began the session. When you fish your phone out, Jimin’s contact photo is staring back at you while the marimba ringtone continues playing. You put the phone on speaker.

“Hey Jiminie”, you smile and Jungkook catches a glance of it. And the discomfort in his chest is definitely, 100%, not jealousy. Not at all.

“I told you not to call me that! What is with you younger people and your disrespect for the elderly?” The corner of Jungkook’s lips twitch into a subtle smile at the similarity of your’s and his conversations with Jimin.

“Okay, okay, grandpa. What’s up?”

“Can you come home ASAP? I may or may not have broken the stove trying to make soup.”

The redundancy of his confession makes you sigh, as Park Jimin desecrating your shared kitchen space was not a rare occurrence by any means.

“I’ll be right there”, you chided through the line, “please do not cook anything else before I arrive.”

“Thanks Y/N-ie, you’re the best!” Jimin’s voice is far too cheery and you make a mental note to nag him a little extra when you get home. The phone call is ended promptly and you turn around to Jungkook, eyes widening in surprise when he has already packed up all his photography gear. The sky had turned dark and the streetlights had been turned on to illuminate the park. If you had craned your neck upwards, you would have noticed the stars that awoke again to shine down upon the city. But you didn’t. You only saw the stars that were twinkling in Jungkook’s eyes.

“Uh”, he stammers, “I’ll walk you home. It’s late.”

“Oh! Uh...Thanks.” Though he was still cold and indifferent, your heart jumped in elation. Perhaps this could be considered baby steps.

The trip home is quiet, only the sounds of your tandem footsteps on pavement and the rustle of a breeze through tree leaves fill the space of silence. But the quiet is not uncomfortable. Just a bit awkward as you two try to figure out how to be around one another. Jungkook’s hands are shoved in his pockets and your fingers itch to intertwine themselves around his own. To press your soulmate marks together and feel them calling out to each other. But you and Jungkook are anything but normal soulmates. For you are already head over heels in love with him and he is adamant on not sparing you a crumb of affection.

To your disdain, the apartment was closer than you thought and the short walk with Jungkook ended before it really even began. You could practically hear Jimin’s impatience emanating from the third story of the building.

“So I’ll see you later?”, you smile meekly. Jungkook readjusts the strap of his camera bag before nodding. He is walking away before you turn around to enter the apartment building and even though it was something small and mundane, you wished he would have waited to see you get in safely. You make your way inside, more downcast than you had been before.

You don’t see when Jungkook turns around. You don’t feel the reassurance that washes over him when the door shuts safely behind you.

That night, Jungkook is reminded far too much of Yoojung. When he goes to make his usual chamomile, he finds her mug at the very back of the tea cabinet. She must have forgotten it when she packed up her stuff. When he spoons in the sugar, he remembers how Yoojung drinks her tea with honey instead. And when he feels himself start to fall apart, he remembers how Yoojung is not there to keep him together.

Jungkook pushes away his pain, abandons the lukewarm mug of tea, and opts for an early bedtime to sleep away the ache. The camera sitting on his nightstand, though, beckons him to look over the photos you both had taken that afternoon.

In the moment, he had been dissatisfied with the pictures, always thinking there must be a better angle or a better position you could shift into. However when he looks down at his camera now, in the quiet and solemnity of his bedroom, Jungkook can’t help but to think they are absolutely perfect.

He doesn’t know whether to credit his own artistic skill or you; for breathing life into his photographs. It’s the lines of your hands, the slope of your nose, and the stray strands of your hair that makes his pictures more human.

The ones he ends up picking though, are not perfectly staged and not the ones where he made you change the position of your stance for 10 minutes. No, the best pictures were the ones he took without you noticing. When you had just been enjoying the cool breeze or admiring the beauty of peach blossom season. When you point out a cool looking bird and when you stared annoyedly past the cameras lens (at him no doubt).

Yoojung is gone from his mind for just a tiny fleeting moment. For little reason at all, Jungkook finds himself smiling. And there is only the company of the moon to see it.

◒

It is ten o’ clock in the morning and Jungkook comes to a realization that in the couple weeks since he has met you, he has sighed more times than he has in the past 23 years of life. Jungkook sighs when you text him first thing in the morning about the dream you had the night before and describe it in painfully vivid details. He leaves them unanswered. Sometimes he wished you would just email him the google document instead. He sighs when you fidget in your seat when he’s trying to paint and keep focus, but you are only interested in asking him the snacks he has in his fridge or when he’s going to finish. He sighs when you and Jimin collectively trash his art studio by spamming his $1,000 camera with ugly face pictures and sword fighting with his sable paint brushes. Jungkook often has a hard time believing that both of you are in graduate school.

Today, he sighs when you bombard into room 62B of the art building; what is supposed to be Jungkook’s completely zen and peaceful creative space. You are tiptoeing around him as you always do, scared that you’ll do something to set him off and your soulmate will disown you for good. He glances at you once, eyes quickly darting back to the sculpture he is molding on the clay table and saying nothing.

“There’s a new cafe that just opened right across from the apple strudel place”, you gulp tensely. “I was gonna go check out the competition.” Your words seem deaf to Jungkook’s ear and he only furrows his eyebrows, fingers fussing over the mass of clay. There was just something he couldn’t get right. He didn’t know what it was.

Jungkook pushes away the sculpture frustratedly, wipes his hands on his apron, and finally looks at you. Maybe he did need a break and come back to it with fresh eyes. That’s all it was, though. A break. He wasn’t going because you asked him to.

“They better have blonde roast otherwise you’ll be compensating me for my time.” Jungkook is as ruthless and blunt as ever and you decide to look past it as you always do. Him agreeing to go with you was a mini success.

“Welcome in! You’ve stopped by at the perfect time. The strawberry scones have just been taken out of the oven!” The cafe employee is far too enthusiastic for receiving minimum wage and greeting grumpy people off the streets who just want to be caffeinated. His name tag reads Jung Hoseok.

“Oh, strawberry is my favorite”, you whisper, the statement only meant for your ears but Jungkook picks up on it anyway. He declines to tell you that strawberry is his favorite as well. Hoseok’s eyes light up when you and Jungkook approach the entrance, like he finally succeeded at luring a customer.

The cafe isn’t anything special. A bit more modern compared to the one across the street and you think you prefer the latter because this new one doesn’t have the owner’s handsome son standing at the cash register. He may not be your soulmate, but even you had to admit Kim Seokjin was a beautiful man if there ever was one. However, this cafe is warm and has ceiling length windows that let in an obscene amount of sunlight. Jungkook makes a mental note to try some pictures here in the future.

Jungkook’s phone buzzes in his pocket and you are already leaving him behind in the dust, walking straight to the counter and peering up at the menu deep in thought. You turn around to see that he is immersed in mysterious conversation, and take it upon yourself to order him a drink.

“I’ll have a matcha latte. And uh…”, you decide, trailing off as you wonder what kind of drink Jungkook would enjoy. “And an iced vanilla mocha latte, extra whipped cream, extra chocolate syrup. Do you guys have rainbow sprinkles?”

A little sugar never hurt anyone. Especially someone so often bitter like your one and only soulmate.

When Jungkook hangs up and makes his way to the corner table where you are situated, the sight of the concoction on the table is enough to give him an instant cavity. You hide your smile behind the mug of matcha. He grumbles and sits down swiftly, sticking the straw past his lips in defiance and you can only watch expectantly.

“Well…do you like it?”

This is when Jungkook realizes you didn’t order this to spite him. You just had completely zero idea what he liked and disliked and chose the first thing you thought was best. As cold as he is, he doesn’t have the heart to tell you that when he drinks coffee, he likes it black. No cream, no sugar, and the darkest roast with the most caffeine to push him through those nights spent in front of a canvas or over a clay table.

Jungkook fights to keep steady from the ambush of sugar and wills himself to swallow it down. There is sticky chocolate syrup on his hands and it feels cosmically more uncomfortable than paint. But Jungkook manages to look up at you and nod, to which you reward with a smile.

“I knew you would like it”, you say smugly, giving yourself a mental pat on the back. “You look like you have a giant sweet tooth.” There is a mellow giggle that follows your statement. Jungkook feels a flutter at the bottom of his stomach, and convinces himself it’s only because it sounds so much like Yoojung. He catches sight of the moon on your wrist, and pushes the feeling away even farther.

The two of you spend the rest of the midday there, tucked away in a corner of a cafe and losing track of time as you always do. Jungkook finds himself forgetting about the mountains of work he has to do to finish his art gallery portfolio, and the unfinished sculpture back at the studio that’s just not right.

Today, he allows himself to enjoy your presence and get to know you more. Your favorite color is yellow. You had a dog named Benny when you were a child. You detest beer with a passion, but enjoy a nightly glass of pinot grigio. Jungkook barely notices when the entire cup of coffee has disappeared. Every last rainbow sprinkle.

On second thought, he feels that maybe there was something sweeter than his unexpectedly delicious iced vanilla mocha latte with extra whipped cream. Maybe that something was sitting right across from him, rambling about the fundamentals of English literature with unexplained vigor.

Jungkook’s soul feels lighter when he goes to bed that night. And when he finally succumbs to Morpheus, his last lucid thought is of you; sun beams coming from the large cafe windows that comb through your hair. He looks at you through his mind’s eye and all he can see is the potential heartbreak you have the power to put him through. The fan of your eyelashes. The curve of your smile. The plush of your lips. All he can see is Yoojung as she crushes his soul in her bare hands.

Yet in the midst of his internal conflict, Jungkook’s subconscious allows him to fall in love with you a little bit. Perhaps not love just yet, but affection. Like a toe dip in uncharted waters or sticking his finger in a bowl of creamy cake batter just for a taste. The walls he has built are still there, strong as ever, but perhaps a couple bricks look a bit askew. He doesn’t know, but his soul calls out to your’s through the fortress.

◐

“Y/N I don’t know why you thought this was a good idea.”

“Oh hush, just close your eyes and point where your heart tells you to.”

In the lobby of a train station, facing a map and an ETA board is where you and Jungkook will be embarking on your next “date but not really because you don’t believe in soulmates so let’s just hang out”. It had taken a good two hours of nagging and whining on your part to convince him to abandon his portfolio for just a little bit to go an outing. Now standing here, with you excitedly bouncing next to him and a mystery destination, Jungkook feels something akin to utter regret.

“What if I choose somewhere that’s a thousand miles away? Or just in the middle of nowhere?”, Jungkook groans, still putting up an unbothered and cold front.

“Well then we will go somewhere that’s a thousand miles away or in the middle of nowhere”, you quipped back at him. Jungkook had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to get out of this one.

He reluctantly places a hand over his eyes, sighing with resignation before pointing to a random spot on the map. There is a giggle that sounds to his left and Jungkook finds himself wanting to hear more.

“Wonderful choice”, you smiled, “couldn’t have picked it better myself.”

Jungkook peeked his eyes open one at a time, scared of seeing what his intuition has chosen for your guys’ spontaneous destination. He breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees that his fingers landed on a town on the outskirts of the city, 20 minutes away from the university. He silently thanks the universe for not sabotaging his wallet and time.

“We’re never doing this again, Y/N”, Jungkook speaks as you are in front of him, skipping happily to the front desk to buy two train tickets.

“Wasn’t it fun, though? The thrill?”, you chuckle at his demeanor, to which he only shakes his head vehemently. You note the newest thing you’ve just learned about Jungkook: he has an aversion to uncertainty and spontaneity.

The train ride was as brief as it was uneventful. You spent the time rambling to Jungkook about all the quips and quirks about yourself and he only listened. Though he kept quiet, his face was free of any annoyance or indication that you were speaking too much. Jungkook only stared at you and unknowing to you, he soaked in every bit of information like a sponge. If anyone asked, he could tell them what foods you were allergic to, what colors wash you out, and what vegetables you hated the most.

“Wow you didn’t have to pick somewhere so far away, Jungkook.” You muse as the two of you step out of the train car. So far away in fact, that if you were to crane your head up enough, you would be able to see the university from a distance.

“Hey, you were the one who made me choose”, Jungkook spares a rare smile, “Would you rather we have shelled out our wallets to go on an 18-hour train ride?”

“Okay, fair point.”

The city was as abundant as it was big, and the both of you walked aimlessly from avenue to avenue, stopping occasionally whenever you see a dog you just can’t help but to pet or whenever Jungkook complained about his sore feet. As cold and indifferent as Jungkook made himself out to be, you’ve quickly come to realize that he’s actually a big baby. He still hasn’t let you in or even lowered his walls by a tiny centimeter, but you like to think that even agreeing to go anywhere with you could be considered significant progress.

Jungkook doesn’t notice the pounding of his heart whenever his hands graze against your’s, walking side by side so close he can feel the heat emanating through your coat. He doesn’t notice the peace he feels, just the synchronicity of his feet as he places them on the pavement.

The fraught wind that blows straight at Jungkook’s face prompts him to look up from where his eyes were cast on the ground. He almost staggers at how strong it is, but finds himself weak in the knees for a completely different reason.

Of course.

Of all the days, of all the times, of all the people in this entire city.

Of course she had to be the one that was currently staring at him from across the intersection.

The red light seems to go on forever. Either that or time has just spontaneously frozen, Jungkook can’t tell. But his eyes are fixed on hers and his feet bolster him to the concrete when all he wants to do is sprint the other way and forget he ever saw this ghost from the past.

Yoojung looks as beautiful as the day she left him.

She’s gained some weight and her cheeks have filled out, but it looks healthy on her now (Jungkook always chided her for forgetting to eat). She stares at him with a combination of shock and guilt and something he wants to overthink into affection but he won’t give himself that satisfaction anymore. She dyed her hair. Light brown looks good on her.

She looks...happy. As happy as anyone can look when they’re rushing through thick crowds of a city, traffic horns blaring like a dilapidated symphony.

In the heat of it all, it’s impossible for you not to notice Jungkook’s sudden change in demeanor or the way he has suddenly stopped breathing. When you follow his gaze, there is a girl on the other side of the street that shares the same starstruck expression and even from the outside looking in, you can feel the weight of something painful in his eyes. In her stature.

When the lights turn green, the throngs of city dwellers migrate across and you stay beside Jungkook when he doesn’t move a muscle. Not even a finger twitch. But she does. And he can only fight to keep the ache away when Yoojung gets closer with every millisecond. Until she is standing right in front of him and he can smell her familiar vanilla perfume.

“Jungkook”, she speaks, apprehension in her voice. “It’s been a while...how are you?”

Yoojung only spares you a side glance while keeping attention on Jungkook and you only grow more curious as to who this strange woman is.

He wants to speak so badly but his tongue remains frozen. He turns to you with flabbergast in his eyes and shakes his head to snap out of the daze of confusion. Of seeing the love of his life again. Or who he thought was the love of his life.

“Could you give us a minute, Y/N?”

You didn’t know why but the words that came from his lips made you feel disappointed. Perhaps you were just stupid for thinking he would introduce you. Tell her that you’re his soulmate and scream it at the top of his lungs with sheer pride. But your imagination has hurt you countless times and you had a feeling this one wouldn’t be the last. You manage a curt nod and push away the twinge in your heart. There was a boundary between you and Jungkook and today was not the day to cross it and introduce yourself as his soulmate to any random stranger.

Once you are out of vicinity and have found solace in a bookstore 10 feet away, Jungkook allows himself to breathe in Yoojung’s presence.

“I didn’t know if you were still in the city”, he falters, voice coming out quieter than he would have liked it to. But what was he supposed to sound like confronting the supposed love of his life.

“I never left, Jungkook...my entire life is here.” She sighs, smiling lightly with eyes seeping with guilt.

He scoffs. “I don’t know Yoojung, you seem to leave behind important things pretty easily.” Jungkook feels himself getting angrier and resentful by the second, and though he knows it is unfair of him, Yoojung’s mere presence brings back all the wounds he never truly healed from.

Granted, on a concrete sidewalk next to a traffic light pole was not the best place to have a heart to heart about failed relationships. But when has the universe ever given Jungkook the best things in life. He is devastatingly cynical for someone who dedicates his career to art.

Yoojung wears a frown on her face, but there is no vindictiveness there. Just an overwhelming sense of remorse that Jungkook communicates as pity.

“I don’t know how else to say that I’m sorry”, she sighs, eyes falling to the ground. Jungkook wishes it would just open up and swallow him whole.

“Then don’t say anything.” He turns to walk away.

“Wait! Jungkook can we...can’t we catch up or something? For a couple minutes?” Yoojung is visibly desperate, and her hands are outstretched as if wanting to touch him but keeping herself from overstepping the line.

Jungkook glances through the window of the bookstore, and you are situated on a chair, already nose deep in a hefty book. He wants to smile and tease you for being such a nerd, but the weight of Yoojung’s presence makes him reinforce those walls of indifference tenfold.

He exhales frustration and inhales temptation, looking back into Yoojung’s familiar eyes and nodding. Jungkook walks to a nearby bench and sits down with no words exchanged, looking forward coldly even when he feels her warmth next to him. A couple months ago, Jungkook would have set all his canvases on fire to feel her beside him again. Now, he’s not so sure.

“So…”, she starts, “who’s that cute girl you were with?”

“No one.” He shoots out a little too soon with no hesitation. Yoojung gulps.

“You know Jungkook, it’s okay to find someone. I-I know I hurt you, but I’m glad if you’ve found someone who doesn’t.” Jungkook doesn’t say anything so she continues.

“I’m really happy for-”

“I never really forgave you Yoojung.” He stares blankly at the passersby and tries to ignore the ache in his bones. The one that’s been there the day she left and took a piece of his heart with her.

“And I don’t want to blame you for my decisions but I want you to know that I push away a lot of people because of you. People that don’t deserve it.” From the corner of his eye, he can see her nod solemnly to his words and fidget with her hands in her lap. Part of him feels guilty for unloading on Yoojung. Part of him feels like maybe he deserves to.

“What you did was really shitty. Astronomically fucking shitty. And I’ve spent the past eternity hating you and maybe I still do, but…”, Jungkook takes a deep breath, “I want to forgive you now. If not fully, then partially. I hope you can understand that.” He finally tilts his head to look at her and though the smile on her face is as beautiful as he remembers it to be, Jungkook no longer feels the longing. No longer feels the sting that he usually does when his thoughts take him back to the years they spent together.

Jungkook doesn’t want to call it closure, not yet anyway. Sitting here on the bench, he still wants to scream and yell and tell Yoojung of all the nights he’s spent alone since she left. He still wants to drag her back and wonder if she could love him again like she used to.

But he doesn’t. He listens when she tells him about her new job and her new apartment right by the lakeside. They share snippets of their separate lives. Just deep enough to rekindle something warm but shallow enough to not invite anything else in.

When he walks away from the bench and into the bookstore, Jungkook stills feels the walls that he has built around himself. He is still scared of opening up and being vulnerable but the anger held for Yoojung for so long is no longer a raging fire. More so a wickering flame.

When he spots you, though, he remembers why he built those walls in the first place. He remembers how easy it used to be for him to climb a high peak and fall to his demise. Your eyes widen when you catch sight of him, lips curling into a wide smile and clear excitement in your expression. The book in your hands is tossed aside and tunnel vision reserved for him and him only. Something blooms in his chest and he can’t remember the last time someone’s been so elated to just simply see him...aside from his dog. Jungkook reminds himself to act uncaring. If he pretends long enough, he’ll start to believe it himself.

◓

The train ride home feels longer than the one there. The minutes drag by and perhaps it is because of your drooping eyes or the way Jungkook is looking at you with a different tenderness than he has been before. His stare is not harsh. It’s soft and sweet, but subtle enough for you to wonder if you are just imagining it. The night has always been unforgiving and cold even in the spring, but perhaps all that’s needed to breathe some warmth, is a 15 minute train ride and a wrist with a crescent moon.

Yet every time you become more smitten with Jungkook, there is a harsh reminder that follows you everywhere like a designated storm cloud.

Jungkook does not love you. And you are trying and you will continue to try but his eyes tell you something he is too courteous to say. You see it now as he sits across from you and admires the skyline from the window. It makes you wonder if it is soulmates he doesn’t believe in, or if it is just you that he can’t bring himself to accept. With every cold glance and wall that he puts up, you start to convince yourself that it is the latter.

“We’re here, Y/N”, Jungkook speaks quietly, interrupting your drifting thoughts. He turns around and leaves the train car with hands tucked in his coat pocket. Did you expect him to escort you out and hold your hand? Of course not. But you were tired of Jungkook being so indifferent to your existence.

You follow him glumly out the doors that slide close after you step through. Then it zips off again and you wonder where it would have taken you if you just stayed in your seat. If Jungkook would have even noticed that you hadn’t followed him when he left.

You sigh into the night air and wish it was winter so that your breath could be visible as a white cloud. Maybe then Jungkook would notice that you were a living being beside him.

“Who was that girl that we met back there?”, you murmur hesitantly. Jungkook nearly chokes on air.

“No one”, he responds curtly, effectively cutting off the conversation then and there. It makes your heart sink. She must be important and all you want to do is know every single detail about their relationship, but the look in his eyes warn you to not pry.

You don’t think you can forget the way Jungkook looked at her from across the street. Like he had been lost this whole time and she was the North star. You saw the way his eyes twinkled in the midday sun and sparkled even more when she came closer. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to have that effect on him.

“Hey, next time you should pick a place you and I both do not live in”, you giggle, nudging his shoulder with your own. It makes him smile and even though your heart feels heavy in your chest, Jungkook looks so beautiful when he smiles.

The two pair of feet subconsciously carry you both to the front door of your apartment building and the scene is too familiar from the last time. You expect him to turn around and whisper a hushed goodnight under his breath, and you’ll have to watch the back of his head disappear down the street. But he doesn’t. Just stands across from you quietly and waits for you to say something. So you do.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry if I brought up something you didn’t want to remember. I don’t really know your story but it seems you two have a lot of history.” You want to tell him how hard it is for you to be his soulmate when he is so clearly vying for the warmth of someone else. Someone who didn’t have a crescent moon on her wrist.

“I know you’ll tell me whenever you’re ready, and if that’s never then I’ll keep waiting until forever. But I’m here if you want to talk or unload and I already know I can help because…” you fidget with your hands and look around nervously.

“Well, because I’m your soulmate.”

When you say it loud and explicitly, Jungkook thought the statement would have made him recoil. But it doesn’t. It just seeps through his consciousness and feels warm when he thinks about the weight of those words. You are his soulmate, regardless of if he believes in such a thing or not. You carry the same mark as he does on your wrist and somehow, by some intangible factor, the universe had decided that you were created for him and he for you.

And when he looks at you. Really looks at you. When Jungkook processes your sincere words and how you manage to deal with his insurmountable boundaries even when you barely know him…

Jungkook has never wanted to kiss you more.

So he does.

Your lips taste like mint chewing gum and the ghost of words you wish to tell him but can’t. He feels you stiffen until you completely melt in his hold, and Jungkook cradles your face with both his hands, pulling you closer to him until there is no barrier between you but the clothes on your back and the emotional distance. You feel so far away even when you’re this near. Was it a trick of your imagination when you felt the moon on your wrist tingling?

It doesn’t last as long as you would’ve liked it to. Jungkook yanks his hands from you like your skin scalded him and takes several steps back. His chest rises up and down violently when his breath comes out ragged, posture stiffening as the gravity of what just happened finally absorbs. You’re there, he knows you’re there and standing in front of him. So why is it he can only see Yoojung. Yoojung and the star on her wrist and apologies on her lips. Yoojung and the tears in her eyes when she walks away.

You can only stare confusedly when his body goes rigid, and a sudden coldness envelops you both.

And in the haze of post-embrace, like any two normal lovers, you catch something in his eyes that sets a heavy feeling in your stomach. Before you can confirm if it’s just a trick of the light, Jungkook is already running in the opposite direction and you can only see a shadow of sullen love that follows him. He is gone and you are standing alone, wondering how moonlight could feel so cold even on a spring night.

You don’t get any sleep that night. Every time you close your eyes, there is only the sight of Jungkook’s disgust and regret to lull you to dreams.

20 minutes away from your apartment, there is a boy who doesn’t sleep either. He won’t text or call to tell you that he can’t shake off the feeling of your skin on his and your breath fanning his cheek. He won’t admit to himself that tonight, when he looked at you, he felt the possibility of falling in love. He won’t tell you that the moon on his skin longs to be traced by your hands. No, he just shares those secrets with his pillow as its linen soaks up his tears.

In the midst of it all, there is one verdict that becomes clear to him.

Jungkook wishes he had never told Jimin he needed a muse.

◑

The next three weeks is dedicated to trying to get in touch with your soulmate. Through the whirlwinds of utter confusion and desperation, you try texting, calling, emailing, even showing up at his art studio and apartment to no avail. It seemed he had a talent for avoiding soulmates.

It hurt, to say the least. That he left you high and dry after giving you the most intense

kiss of your life and doesn’t even have the decency to let you know he’s alive. The feeling of his lips still burns on your skin and you wonder if you are a complete fool for being so smitten with a person who, quite possibly, hasn’t spared you a single thought after that night. You just want - no you just need some clarity.

Jungkook makes you wait another week before replying.

It is an impossibly sunny day when you wake up. Your neck is stiff from sleeping like a contortionist and your heart aches even more than your muscles with every passing morning with radio silence from your soulmate. You want to call him and tell him you’re sorry. That you’ll forget anything ever happened. It hurts to even think about it, but for Jungkook, you would go through a little more pain so he would let you into his life.

Outside the hall, Jimin is singing along to a familiar melody of a song you don’t know the name of and judging by the aroma that wafts through the cracks of your door, he has successfully made a pot of coffee. He has been an anchor throughout this whole thing, and sometimes you make a secret wish to the stars that Jimin had been the one with a crescent moon on his wrist instead. Perhaps that way, you wouldn’t have to go through the agony of chasing love that is constantly sprinting away from you.

Your phone lays on the bedside table and buzzes innocently to start the morning. When you reach over and scroll through notifications routinely, there is a name there that makes your heart pang. Makes you want to throw up and celebrate at the same time. A text from Jungkook. Your fingers shake as you open it.

I no longer need a model for the portfolio. Thank you for your involvement. Compensation will be provided promptly.

The day you met him, you already knew that Jungkook was cold. He never dawdled around a painful truth or toed the line between bluntness and sparing feelings. Jungkook spoke his mind, collateral damage be damned. But this is a different type of cold. This one feels more like dry ice on warm skin. Like the numbing chill of a fading hope. Like winter’s first snowfall when autumn had promised you it would forever stay.

Phone in your hand and tears threatening to drip down your cheeks, you wish you would have waited a bit more before opening his text. Perhaps that way you could have spent the rest of your morning basking in the spring sun, drinking Jimin’s inevitably bad coffee, having hope that Jeon Jungkook would grow to care for you. Perhaps if you hadn’t opened it so soon, your soulmate would still seem in reach.

Jimin’s mug nearly drops out of his hand when the door of your bedroom is slammed open. He flings it to the side when he notices your red-rimmed eyes and the shaking hands that clutch onto a cellphone. You scream and sob at the universe, at anyone, asking why it was you that had to experience the chaos of longing. Jimin was there to hold you, as he always is, and helplessly listen to the sound of your heart breaking once again by the hands of Jungkook.

◒

Room 62B of the art building is a place you hope to never have to visit again. Though it’s walls contain memories of you and Jungkook, and the evenings navigating his gallery portfolio along with your convoluted relationship, the wallpaper bleeds with a longing ache. A yearning pain. And if those walls could talk, you don’t think you would want them to say anything at all. They would only murmur what you are slowly accepting to be true.

Jungkook, your soulmate, wants nothing to do with you.

When you hesitantly rap on the door with a fisted hand, the sound of him rustling from inside makes you want to run the opposite direction. It opens before you get the chance to change your mind and the sight of him nearly takes your breath away. He is beautiful as he always is, hair ruffled and mussed from undoubtedly running his hands through it compulsively. His lips are pink from biting on them and the dark circles under his eyes tells you of the dreams he has deprived himself of.

Jungkook is painfully gorgeous and painfully not yours.

“Y/N...I sent you a text earlier.” His voice is saccharine but the words taste so bitter.

“I know. I read it”, you murmur, shrinking in on yourself.

“I....Can we talk, Jungkook?”

His eyes dart around nervously at your question, chewing on his bottom lip and tapping the toe of his shoe as if he was impatient and you were bothering him. And you have known that simply being around Jungkook hurts but the light at the end of the tunnel only continues dwindling.

You understand why he is acting so restless when your gaze drifts past him and into the room. There is a girl perched on a stool, across from a canvas and easel that you know awfully well. You don’t recognize her but it’s only in your nature to begin comparing every aspect of yourself to this stranger. She sits on her hands and swings her legs back and forth, head in the clouds and eyes trailing the ceiling. She isn’t aware of the weight of her presence in the studio, nor the turmoil she has brought to you, who is standing just outside the door.

The oxygen in the hallway thins and the breath you’ve been waiting to release since knocking catches in your throat. Coming here, you prepared yourself for a long and inevitably heart-wrenching talk with your soulmate. But you hadn’t prepared for the possibility that he had replaced you overnight.

The only thought that blares through your mind is that this is your fault. For letting yourself think you were worth more to Jeon Jungkook than any other stranger. You can no longer find it in yourself to be angry at him. Just yourself.

“You…”, you gulp down a whimper, “you replaced me.”

Jungkook follows your vacant stare past him and sighs, realizing you had most likely deducted what this scene looked like. You would be right. Between the weeks of trying to understand what you were to him and the impending due date of the portfolio, Jungkook was sure the best way to move past this confusion was to just speed full steam ahead. That meant finding another muse. You were no longer an option.

You only stare down at the floor, but Jungkook begins speaking anyway.

“Y/N, I…I’m sorry.” You scoff at his words, feigning anger when inside, you truly didn’t know if you could piece yourself back together this time.

“Look, Y/N. It’s not you. It’s just that…”, he breathes deep, not knowing why it was so hard to say. “I’ve stopped believing soulmates were truly a thing a long time ago. I’m sorry.”

It’s not the first time you’ve heard these words but it doesn’t mean they hurt any less.

“I didn’t want to initiate anything, Y/N, but you did and I let you and that was my fault to let anything start. I shouldn’t have when I knew nothing would come of it.”

It was a fault to him. It never should have happened.

“So you just thought you would kiss me and decide that I meant nothing to you afterwards?”

“It was a mistake.” It was painful to think it but when you hear Jungkook say it, you experience a new kind of ache. A humorless chuckle bubbles past your throat.

“I really thought you would grow to love me. Now I know it’s not your fault that I’m a complete fool. To fall head over heels for my soulmate who wishes he had never even met me. Much less share a mark.”

You can see Jungkook’s eyes widen at your confession, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. It was the truth. He deserved to hear it.

“You shouldn’t. You can’t.” He reaches up to pull at his hair frustratedly.

“Can’t what, Jungkook? Love you? You think I want to be in love with someone who wishes I didn’t exist?” You hate your voice for breaking, but its impossibly painful when he does nothing to deny your statement.

“What do you want me to say, Y/N? What can I say to make this better?”

Try: I love you too.

“I don’t need you to say anything you don’t mean, Jungkook.”

“Then shouldn’t you leave?”

Jeon Jungkook is cruel even when he doesn’t mean to be. There is oblivion in his gaze, and his question is one of genuine curiosity. But it still stabs you exactly where your heart is most tender. Yes, I should have left.

“I guess I thought you were worth the pain, Jungkook. When you pushed me away and wanted nothing to do with me, I thought you were worth hurting for just to try a little more. Worth the uncertainty of being around you but never getting to actually be with you”, you numbly mutter, uncaring about the rivulets of tears down your face. Not like it wasn’t something he’s never seen before. There is more to come on the tip of your tongue, and Jungkook stays quiet to let you speak. There is conflict in his vision, but you don’t want to give yourself the false hope that he cares for you.

Look where that has gotten you before.

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

Saying the words are revelation for you as much as it is for him. All this time, you’ve been running away from the truth in the pursuit of your soulmate. You hadn’t realized that the chase led you astray.

“And I know that loving me is not easy. I’m…”, you force the words out so he can at least hear your turmoil by his hands. “I’m never really good enough for anyone. Why did I expect that I would be good enough for you?”

Jungkook’s expression crumples into a frown. “Y/N, no, that’s not what I mean-”

“You don’t have to tell me what you mean, Jungkook. I meet you and the first thing you say is that you don’t believe in such a thing. I try to get close to you and all you know to do is push me away. And I try so hard to be enough but how can I when Yoojung still has your heart? So you don’t have to say it. I know what you mean.” You’ve stopped crying but the ache relents, and you can only look desperately at the boy who’s slipping from your grasp with every passing second.

“I’m sorry.” The message is redundant.

“I can’t…” Rip off the bandaid.

“I just can’t love you.”

The words make their way past his lips before he can stop them, and they shoot through your core ruthlessly. A sharpened dagger to soft flesh. It manifests itself in a physical pain that reverberates across your chest, and when the last strength left in you is used to stare at Jungkook through a pained and teary gaze, you are deaf to everything but those four words.

I can’t love you.

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.

☾

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ventisehe · 3 years

Text

crying on their wedding day / genshin impact / part one

this was a request from my old account and i am only transferring it here. there is a part two to this but i got busy with school and organizing my new account, as well as thinking over deleting my old account.

since bennett is fifteen or sixteen, his part will be a little different from the others. with aether, he is hundred years old so his part if just like the rest. this is unedited and i wrote it at night when i was supposed to be farming so please bear with me hehe.

requested by: @bakuhoe-is-my-bakubro

includes: diluc, zhongli, childe/tartaglia, aether, bennett

warning: unedited, not proofread

part two

THOSE WHO WOULD SHED A SINGLE TEAR

DILUC

After losing his father and his horrible fall out with Kaeya, Diluc has become a firm believer that a man can truly live as an island, to some extent. As much as possible, he kept to himself and worked alone. Having people share his burdens with him did not appeal to him. In fact, it miffed him, as it made him feel indebted to them.

He limited his interaction with everyone, especially those who are part of the Knights of Favonius, favoring solitude above else. But of course, this did not entail bad social ethics to others.

He treated his maids and employees with civility and respect, the same can be said with his patrons whenever he worked behind the counter (it would certainly be bad for his business if he behaved aloof to them) and those he was once close friends with. He always behaved appropriately to them, although he must admit he can be quite insulting to the Knight, he always stood behind an invisible barrier, careful not to cross it and grow attached to anyone.

He has long given up with amorous relationships. After all, what good would he be as a lover if he could not provide his woman the love and care she deserved? Surely, he cannot let a maiden suffer with his inadequacy as a potential husband. He is aware of how hectic his schedule is (he hardly has enough time for himself so spending time with his lover would be proven difficult) and how poorly he expresses his feelings, thoughts, and emotions. In a relationship, in marriage, communication is the key for it to be successful, and already then, he has failed. He may be a cold man at first glance, but he will not put a woman in s distressing dilemma, not intentionally anyway.

Being the richest man in Mondstadt and being considered attractive by many, Diluc was not foreign to having women throw themselves at him, attempting to seduce him. If maintaining a relationship with a woman with his current tribulations was hard, finding a woman who truly love and understand him was even harder. He has no means of deciphering who were pure with their intentions and those who sought him for his money and influence.

And he accepted his fate without easily, without question. This was the way it was supposed to be in the first place. Diluc Ragnvindr - a lone man, who lived in too big mansion, sleeping on a bed too big for him. It was all he knew. The bright days of his childhood long forgotten.

But then you came to his life so suddenly.

"Master Diluc," Began Jean, a polite smile over her lips. "This is ( Your Name )".

All it took was for you to give him shy smile to have his walls broken down, and for his heart to yearn for what he has resolutely denied himself of for years. And it twisted him, and not in a way he welcomed.

Diluc tried so damn hard to push you away. He avoided your presence, and made it his point to show you he wanted nothing to do with you, and made no attempt to cover it and ignored how his heart broke every time your smile fell. He resolutely refused to yield to your sincere advances.

He treated you the same way be treated everyone, to show you how you were no different from everyone. You were just another dot in his life waiting to be erased and thrown in the back of his mind.

But the harder he pushed, the harder you pulled. In his brightest days and in his darkest days, you have never strayed far and welcomed him with open arms. You always went out of your way for him.

It was hard not to fall in love with you? Why did you have to make things so difficult?

It wasn't too long until he was falling asleep in his bed with you in his embrace, his heart feeling light, warm and content. He hasn't feel like this in a long time - safe, and at home. Diluc found home from someone he tried to push away.

The horror of what could have happened if he had been successful weighed down on him, and it took quite an assurance from you to make him remember that he has failed, and you were his, as he was yours.

Back then, he thought your persistence was bothersome. But as he stood at the altar right now, watching you enter with your white wedding dress, he was grateful you never gave up on him.

Diluc cannot describe how beautiful you looked as you graced everyone in the place with your presence.

Your eyes locked with him, and his heart soared in his chest. And when you smiled at him, an excited gleam in your eyes - he cannot help but smile back.

Time cannot be any slower, and the aisle cannot be any longer. And have you always walked this slow? Or were you just teasing him?

Diluc's breath hitched - Perhaps you knew how much he wanted to get this over with so he can have you all to himself in the comfort of his room.

And when he saw you smiling mischievously at him, he knew that he was right.

His words failed to describe how beautiful you looked. His words failed the joy he was feeling. May Barbatos have mercy on him

But the tear that escaped the corner of his eye explained everything.

"Oh, what is this?" His best man whispered beside him, a teasing tone lacing his voice. "Master Diluc is crying. Why, I never thought I'd see the day."

Diluc shot him a glare. "Do not make me regret making you my best man, Kaeya."

Kaeya laughed. "Ah, ah, ah," He chimed. "Your wife won't be pleased if we fight at your wedding day."

A warm and pleasant feeling coursed through him. His wife.

"She's not my wife yet." Said Diluc.

Kaeya looked at you as you walked down the aisle. "And in just a few minutes, I'll have two Ragnvindr to annoy." He patted his brother on the back, smiling a genuine smile for the first time. "Congratulations, Diluc."

ZHONGLI

Zhongli, or Rex Lapis for that time, has watched over Teyvat for thousands of years and has witnessed firsthand how kings and tyrants rose and fell, how kingdoms were born, how camaraderie are conducted, how romance makes a man foolish and blinded, how society flourished in the hands of mortals as Archons guarded them from their resting place, and throughout the tales of humans, his eyes has laid upon many beauties.

But you? Oh, even the most esteemed bard of all realms could never bring the satisfactory glory to your name and pulchritude.

How dearly Zhongli missed the unspeakable power, money and authority he had back before he revoked his own position as a deity, keeping a close eye over Liyue and his people. But if ever presented with the opportunity to return to his rightful place as part of the Seven, he shall graciously decline, casting his gaze away and simply returning to your side.

After all, what benefit would he gain from it when he already has his heart is content in the possession of a mere mortal, a mortal he loved and adored. He would dream of ever choosing his old power over you, and that can be affirmed when he asked for your hand as the two of you took an evening stroll outside Liyue.

He has fallen for you and he cannot rise again. A gentle and kind woman with an understanding and patience which knows no bounds. If not for his revelation that he has accomplished all his duties and has come to decide to resign from his reign, your existence may be another reason for him to take the form or a mortal and ask for your hand.

He can still recall that faithful day when he first met you at the harbor. He stood by a high balcony, overlooking Liyue Harbor with arms crossed. The sun beat down against Liyue grounds and his skin, but it also casted an ethereal glow on you as you exited one of the ships that stopoed at the docks. And may he boldly say the sun was outshined that day, and his heart has been taken.

Zhongli can only imagine how many men has chased after you, but failed to woo you.

Zhongli understood the concept of love. After all, Liyue and every living being that sought shelter in its walls were close to his heart, but never in his life has he felt the way he felt for you. It was the sort of phenomena he observed between lovers for centuries - unconditional love and care, a sanctuary in the arms of their beloved, an individual to trust and come home to whether the day has been kind or unkind.

What he thought were trivial matters and the means of mortals for survival he has tasted its sweet flavor, and it was by your hand did he receive it. And he was thankful that you have found him worthy of being with you, and soon, being one with him in the contract of marriage.

And thus came the faithful day, the very day he longed to come ever since you have accepted him as your husband to be, and the day you have dreamt of every night you laid with him.

Zhongli counted the months, weeks, days, and if he had the ability to, minutes until the day of your wedding. He has a calendar in his room and everyday, he enthusiastically crossed out every passing day, watching as his wedding with you grow closer.

And when it finally arrived, Zhongli followed a meticulous routine to prepare himself, using expensive oils and perfume to which the Fatui money has provided splendidly. After all, he wanted to look the best he can for you. You deserved only the best of things, and he shall not hold back on anything to please you.

Though Zhongli, most of the time, was a calm man even under the eye of tribulations, when he stood at the altar in front of his close friends and colleagues, he can't help but feel anxious.

Of course he has no doubt in your love for him. He holds on your every word of love and affection as true, and his love for you was as hard as stone. Rather, it was he who doubted himself and his capabilities.

He wondered if he would be able to take care of you, love you the way you should be, bring a smile to your lips, and a laugh out of your mouth. If he had been Rex Lapis still, he would have easily uphold his duties as your husband. After all, what can an Archon not do?

It would be Childe, his best man, who would console him. He would tell Zhongli he is more than capable to care for you. He has a stable job (not to mention his connection with the Fatui), he was eager to please you and give you about everything if he can, he has a kind heart, he was a man who can manage his time wisely and never choose his profession over you, and above all, he loved you. Not many men can afford the luxury of being this perfect, but Zhongli was no man, not originally at least.

He will be unconvinced of what Childe has said. This unease in him was hard to diminish. Not being enough for you will tear him apart. The thought of it just gnawed at him. Will he make you happy? Will you regret marrying him when you realized life married to him wasn't as you expected?

It was only when the doors opened, and his wide and anticipative eyes darted over to the other end of the place did every little doubt in his mind is erased.

You stood by the entrance wearing the white dress you have fought hard not to show him until this day.

That bright smile on your face, those eyes that shimmered at the sight of him, the faint red on your cheeks - Zhongli did not even notice how love stricken he looked, and nor did he notice a tear cascade from corner of eye.

It was only when Childe stifled a laugh and pointed it out did he feel the dampness at the side of his face.

He forgot how to breathe when you finally stood before him. Even a veil cannot conceal your beauty.

With twinkling eyes, you smiled at him - like he was the only person in the room.

"Are you crying?" You ask playfully.

Zhongli will let out a chuckle, and as he take your hands in his, he said, "In such a beautiful day like this with the loveliest lady in Teyvat before me, how can I not?"

Indeed it was a beautiful day, made better when your lips met his.

He can't stop a few more tears from slipping.

THOSE WHO WOULD BAWL THEIR EYES OUT

CHILDE/TARTAGLIA

Childe understood his duties as a Harbinger even if his playful and flirtatious facade may say otherwise. He kissed hands of women and paid them golden compliments until their mind went hazy with his feigned affection, but he was still a Fatui at the end of the day - a ruthless and greedy scoundrel who had too much Mora in his hands.

And it was because of his line of work that he decided never to commit himself. If he was to find himself infatuated with a woman and she reciprocated his feelings and desired to pursue a relationship with him, it would inevitably drag her to the dangers entailed to his position.

The last thing he wanted was someone to dear to him to be harmed, not to mention his lover could become his weakness, she could be taken by his enemies and be used against him, thus, making things more complicated and harder for him to fulfill his duties to the Tsaritsa.

To him, nothing is more important than seeing through his mission with the finest quality of work he can give.

So damn you for coming into his life and distracting him. Damn you for bringing another bright to his life. Damn you for taking care of his family when he was gone. Just - damn you for making him fall for you.

He hated this - the feeling of being weak, of being vulnerable, of laying his guard down. One touch from you and he's no better than the people he despised for being so frail and powerless.

How ever do you possess this prowess to make him so dependent on you, to relish in your voice when you sing to him as the two of you laid together in his bed, how he let his defenses crumble when you whisper his name, the tug of his heart when you he sees you getting along so well with his family.

Childe wanted you. He wanted you more than anything and anyone in Teyvat. He was going crazy thinking about you.

He refused to acknowledge his feelings at first, thinking perhaps he can use you to comfort him and his family in these troubling times. That's all you were supposed to be, a tool for him to make his family feel better whenever he goes off to accomplish his work as a Harbinger.

But he couldn't stomach the thought of using you like that. He didn't want you to treat like a toy. And it did not help that one day, when he was returning from a mission, you come rushing to him and blurting out your feelings and your worry for his safety.

You loved him. Did he hear you right? You love a Fatui, and a Harbinger, no less. Surely, you aren't that stupid to fall for him.

And yet he smiled a sincere smile at your confession, and he too followed your steps. That night, he was at his weakest. Just relishing in your arms and ridding all the responsibilities over his shoulders. He can forget all his faults for a moment, with you. A peace of mind and heart was found in you.

Childe watched as you played with his fingers, and then he spoke. “Aren’t you afraid?”

You hummed. “Afraid? Of what?”

Childe shook his head and held your hand which toyed with his digits. You looked up at him, puzzled.

“Of me.” Said Childe, pulling your hand and holding it close to his chest. He closed his eyes, almost terrified of what your answer can be. “Of what I can bring to your life. I’m a Harbinger, [ Your Name ]. Your life is at stake just being with me. Do you know what you’re in for for loving me?”

You gazed at him, and he can’t see anything in your eyes. He let out a small gasp when you leaned in and kissed his cheek.

“I’m not afraid of you or anything this world can throw at me.” You confessed. “You’re going to protect me, Tartaglia. I know you will. I trust you. I love you.”

And fucking hell, did he protect you.

He tried to hide you from his fellow Harbingers, and especially to his enemies. Not because they will use you to get the upper hand against him, a leverage. No, he wanted to hide you, as long as he can anyway (because it won't be long until his secret is out, walls do have ears), to protect you. No one will lay a hand or even get a single strand of your hair. May the Archons have mercy on anyone who dares put you in the middle of the dangers of his job, because he surely won't.

Because of this, you and Childe decided to get married in secret, with no one else but Zhongli, the traveler, and their floating companion to be your witnesses in becoming one. The two of you knew well of the consequences your decision shall birth, but it's the one you're making. Nothing in this can stop Childe from making you his wife, and treating you as such.

Childe could not wait for the ceremony to begin. Even with such a small crowd - very small indeed - he did not hold back to make this day special for you. The finest of everything is what you deserved, and if he could give more, he would. But for now, all he can give you is himself, and he dearly wished he was enough.

The whole time, as he waited for you to emerge from the doors of the small cathedral the two of you chose to be wed in, he kept imagining how his life would be like with you.

Waking up beside you was the thing he looked forward to the most. When the sunrays peeked from closed curtains and cascaded down your slumbering form, a gentle and even breaths leaving your lips, a soft expression of rest - the thought of it filled his heart with warmth, a kind of warmth only you can evoke from him.

Waking up at your side on his bed always reminded him thst you were indeed there, and his. Soon, he'll be waking up beside you with a soft smile on his lips, a reminder that you were there, but now as his wife.

Childe never really considered him emotional. It was part of his discipline as a Harbinger never to let his emotions get the better of him. But when you stepped into the cathedral wearing the wedding dress you personally chose and had hidden from him for so long, a veil over your face but the soft smile still just as bright as the morning sun, it all came crashing down to him.

Childe wanted a lot of things in life. But what he wanted the most was to spend the rest of his life with you - providing for you, protecting you, comforting you, falling deeper in love with your every single day. All this he will do until his dying breath, and he knew you'd do the same.

His dream was walking towards him, never taking her eye off him as she approached the altar.

He can hear Paimon clapping and the Traveler reprimanding her for being a little too loud. He can hear Zhongli saying something to him but he couldn't understand a word he said. But he was too lost in his realization that you're going to marry him.

You chose him, a man with too many faults and imperfections.

Just as you arrived at the small steps leading towards the altar, the tears Childe has been trying to hold back streamed down his face, small hiccups escaping his lips.

You stared at him, worried. "Tartaglia, are you alright?"

Childe would try to formulate an answer but through his tears and hiccups, he couldn't make a single comprehensible word. His posture was regal and proper, as though he was trying to fool everyone that he wasn't crying.

How can you ask if he was alright? How can his heart handle how beautiful you looked right now?

"Excuse me, ( Your Name )," Zhongli interjected as he stepped beside Childe. "It seems that your soon to be husband needs a moment to collect himself. Please, excuse us."

Zhongli led Childe back to his room, and the Harbinger did not fight back. He was still crying even when the doors has closed behind him. Zhongli stood by the door, watching the Fatui sit on his bed, trying to stop himself from bawling.

Childe can feel guilt crawling up to him as he realized what he had done. What was supposed to the most perfect day, your most perfect day, was ruined because of him.

He was scared to think what you thought of him now. Were you resenting him for what happened? Did you still wish to marry him?

If only he had controlled his emotions much better. He shouldn't have let his joy break through him in tears.

"She was crying too, you know," Spoke Zhongli.

Childe raised his head to look at the former Archon. "Huh?"

"Your bride, she - " He smiled at him. " - she was crying too. She's happy to be marrying you."

Childe can feel his heart hammering against his chest in delight at what he said.

"So don't keep her waiting."

Childe bawled his eyes out once more when the words - "I do," - left your lips.

AETHER

When his sister was taken from him, Aether was a lost and wandering soul in Teyvat with the sole purpose of finding her.

Throughout his journey, he met different people from different regions. He learned their values and cultures, he grew to love the world he used to be a stranger to, he was able to utilize different sorts of Visions, and yet, despite all of this, Aether was lonely. Paimon - bless her pure soul - tried her best to keep his spirits and bring a smile to his face (he assumed she too felt the hollowness inside of him) but it was all futile as he often find himself seeking solitude and gazing out in an open field wondering where his twin could be and how she was fairing on her own.

He will let the cool breeze comfort him, but all it left was a searing kiss of reality that his search might have been all for naught. That very concept his mind was conjured haunted him in his every waking days. Is he still journeying through Teyvat and reaching out to all Archons with a solid purpose? Was he no wasting his time looking high and low for someone who could not be looking at the sky as he?

"And what if she is?"

Your words is what got his attention. Aether met you in the evening when the stars and the moon was absent from the skies. He sat on a fallen log overlooking the city of Mondstadt, alone and cold. Paimon has insisted in him accompanying him, but he had snuck away before she can chase after him. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, and with the scarce time he has for himself, he has to make the most of every night that comes.

Lumine was in his mind, and worry was gnashing its teeth at him. He was deep in his own world, sinking to the hands of his tragic thoughts, that he did not hear footsteps trekking the hillock he was at. Nor did he realize he was speaking his own worries in the air, eyes distant and staring blankly at nothing.

"What if she's not even looking for me?" That's what he remembered saying that time.

Then you made your presence known with an answer that refuted his initial thought. He whirled his head to the side, wide eyes with surprise. You stood next to him with a faint smile, hands behind your back and the moon slowly peeking from the shroud of clouds. A light in the darkness, the moon was. And so you were you to him.

"Sorry," You apologized, sheepishly giving him a smile as you rubbed the back of your neck. "I didn't mean to interrupt. You were speaking out loud and-and I just had a feeling I needed to say something." You took in a deep breath, and Aether found the pink dusting your cheeks adorable. "I . . . I'll just go now - "

Aether didn't regret asking you to stay.

Before you came to his life, Aether did not know how much he was dwelling in the own hell he made. His inner tribulations, his worries, his insecurities - he only took notice the torture he was putting on himself when you keep saving him from his own mind.

At first, all he thought of you was a precious friend - someone he leaned on and entrusted with everything, whether it be secrets or help with his quests. He told you about his past, his twin, how exactly he was different from the people of Teyvat, how he and sister fought an unknown god, how she slipped from his fingers when he reached out for her, how much he wanted her back. He was terrified of what you may think of him when he told you these things, but to his surprise, all you did was wrap him in your arms and comforted him.

Along with Paimon, you were his dearest friend.

But as time passed, the longer you accompany him and Paimon in his travels, he noticed something strange. The way his heart skipped a beat when you smile at him, how he can't keep his eyes off you when you laugh at one of his tales, how his heart hammered ceaselessly when you press a chaste kiss on his cheek, the relief that seeps in his system when he sees you unscathed from a battle, how irritated he becomes when someone makes an offense against you, the joy that seizes him when he listens to you talking about something you loved, and how much he adored it when you scold him for being a little too reckless in fighting.

Aether, despite being older than he seems, did not know what to make of what he was feeling. It was strange, a good kind of strange - the kind of feeling that makes him feel like he was floating in the sky. All he thought of it was an overwhelming adoration for a friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

It wasn't until Paimon pointed it out did he realize what he was feeling for you.

Upon learning his feelings for you, Aether couldn't sleep for many nights. He was plagued with the desires of his heart and his insecurities. It was like falling back to the same hellish pattern before you came along.

He was in this world for one reason only - to find his twin. And when he does - and he fucking will - he will depart from here with her and continue their travels. Leaving you was the last thing he wanted. He couldn't bear the thought of it. It felt like leaving a piece of him behind in Teyvat, a hole in the shape of your name.

The solution he had for this is directly confessing to you. Of course, the blond was a nervous wreck when he approached you and asked for a moment of your time. Paimon knew of his plan and wandered away for the time being, wanting to give the two of your privacy.

If you did not share the same feelings as he, he can already imagine the pain he will have to deal with, but it'll be much easier to leave. At least then he knows you won't be as hurt as he thought once he takes his leave. He never entertained the idea of you reciprocating his feelings. It would be foolish to - surely you can't find anything appealing with someone like him ; to which you rendered him speechless and a bumbling mess when you pressed your lips against his when he was in the middle of his confession.

Aether shouldn't be this happy with you. He loved you too much to see you hurt when he tells you that he must leave. He was not welcome in this world, he was an outsider, a being not under the authority or influence of any Archons.

But still, he spent months loving you, caring for you, doing anything to come back to you no matter what is thrown at him. He loved having you in his arms when you slept, he loved watching the stars with you at night, he loved you even with the inevitable arguments you two have - Aether was utterly and hopeless in love with you.

And thus, he decided to tell you what will happen after he finds his sister.

He knew he would be heart broken in seeing you cry, but it hurt more to see you smile at to him so genuinely and embraced him, saying, "You used to doubt you'll ever find your sister. It broke my heart everyday seeing you so hopeless, and I - " You composed yourself, shaking your head as your tried to gather your thoughts. " - now look at you," You cupped his cheek, the corners of your eyes wrinkling as your smile broadened. "I always knew the day will come when you have to leave me. When you told me you weren't from this world, I knew then I'll have to let go of you someday. But until that day comes - Aether - "

What a shock it came to him when you got down on one knee and presented to him a glittering ring - there was unconditional love and hope in your eyes. It was like looking back at his reflection. "Marry me, Aether, let me make you happy for the rest of the days we still have remaining until you leave."

Aether can never say no to you.

To his surprise, Master Diluc has already agreed to host your wedding at Dawn Winery. Aether was puzzled as to why he seemed unsurprised by the news of his engagement with you, and the Claymore wielding male answered, "( Your Name ) came to me for help when she planned to propose to you."

Aether knew Diluc, as much as possible, wanted to be alone. A lone wolf, he was. But with gratitude for what he has done, he asked him to be his best man. Diluc was startled by this requests but obliged. The red head might not show it but he was immensely flattered by Aether asking him to be his best now (and now time to subtly show it off to Kaeya).

At the day of the wedding, contrary to what he thought he would feel, Aether woke up with his an ache in his chest. He found himself looking out the window of his room, torn between his happiness and sorrow.

In a few hours, Aether will be able to adorn a ring on your finger, symbolizing your promises with one another. He shall be granted the sole blessing of calling your his wife. It was something he was looking forward to - seeing you in your wedding dress, watching as you walk down the aisle -

But Aether's mind kept drifting back to his sister - She would have wanted to be here. He thought.

Aether felt like he was committing a crime when he decided to take a walk just hours before his wedding. But he needed to clear his mind. Lumine never left his mind. He always thought that they would always be there for one another, or at least in big moments like this.

And yet she was still nowhere to be seen.

Is she still alive? Have I been wasting time? Is she still in danger? Is she lost in Teyvat as well?

"Didn't expect to run into you here."

His body tensed when he heard your voice, and he twirled around only to have his breath taken away.

You stood before him in the white dress he had longed to see ever since you proposed to him. He thought he would see a frown on your face, dismayed for his impromptu walk, but you wore a soft smile - a soft and understanding smile.

Aether did know what to say to you. He just stared at you, overwhelmed.

He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't say anything. His shoulders slumped, and he sighed.

You approached him and kissed his cheek. He hummed in delight, eyes closing. "I hope you're not having second thoughts on marrying me." You told him.

Aether was quick to respond. He took your hand in his and kissed your knuckles. He looked into your eyes with affirming hues, "There is nothing I'm more sure of than marrying you."

You beamed at him. Seeing your face brighten up is always a beautiful sight for Aether, and it was enough for him to feel enlightened in the midst of his internal crisis.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Of course you can already tell something is bothering him. Aether shook his head. He has already ruined a small part of what is supposed to be a perfect day, he can't risk another mistake.

"I'm not going to push you to tell me anything." You stated.

Aether smiled. "Thank you." He replied. He gazed at you for a little while, taking you in. "Why are you out here anyway? And in your wedding dress too."

Your eyes widened and you looked down to assess his evaluation. "Oh Archons," You mewled. "I forgot I was wearing this." You let out a groan. "Great, now my surprise is ruined. I won't be able to see you cry when you see me walk down the aisle."

He laughed a little. "But still happy as ever to see you." He said. "So why are you outside?"

"Just . . . " You began, and Aether can detect a hint of nervousness in your voice. " . . . picking some flowers."

"I thought we already ordered flowers." Aether thought, frowning. "Did someone forget to deliver the flowers? I can call someone if - "

"No, I just wanted to pick some flowers, randomly. Like how you wanted to take a walk, randomly."

He looked at you with hesitant eyes. He didn't believe you. There was something hidden behind your motive to be out here. But like how you didn't press him with what was the problem, he did the same for you.

"Okay," He breathed out. "What flowers did you pick then?"

Aether's breath hitched when you pulled out a bundle of Windwheel Asters and several more flowers that was all too familiar with him.

He stared at the white flowers that combined with your Windwheel Asters, the very flowers that he remembered adorned his sister's hair.

"Aether? Aether are you okay?"

He stared at you with glistening eyes, his heart blossoming with adoration and gratitude. Without even meaning to, you managed to make everything alright.

"Yeah," He smiled at you. "I'm okay."

Aether thought when he stood at the altar, he would have Diluc trying to soothe his nerves as his insecurities slowly sink in his mind. But it didn't happen. Diluc merely stood by him with a relaxed expression, glancing at him every now and then.

"You don't look nervous at all." Diluc remarked.

Aether chuckled. "This is the only decision I fully know I won't regret."

Aether felt like it was his first time seeing you in your wedding dress. His heart was filled with the brim with utmost joy, but what caught his attention was the bouquet of flowers in your hands.

You told him before that you will have roses as your bouquet, but to his surprise, he can see the Windwheel Asters and the white flowers that reminded him of his sister.

His emotions was all over the place. He had no idea how he could look so calm. Somehow he managed to hold himself together until you finally stood before him.

When you stared at him behind the veil, he couldn't take it anymore. You were too perfect. How could he be so blessed with you?

Tears sprung to his eyes when you reached out to take his hands in yours. He retracted one of them to rub his arm across his eyes, wiping away the wetness that streamed to his face.

Why am I crying like a child in my wedding? Stop it!

He couldn't.

He only cried harder when you leaned forward, removed his arm from his eyes, made him look into your vibrant hues, to give a small peck on his lips - "You're okay, Aether."

BENNETT

Bennett understood his bad luck more than anyone. He had lived with and through it his entire life he graced the surface of the earth. It was almost pitiful to see the boy smiling ever so brightly as misfortune after misfortune comes hurtling his way, but to him? It was an everyday and normal occurrence, nothing he hasn't seen or experienced before. His spirits has never let their roaring flame vanish, however, and if it had not been for his bad luck, everyone would have been drawn to his warm, welcoming, affable, and cheerful soul.

But just because he was used to the constant array of debacle thrown his way, doesn't mean there were never days where he won't be upset over everything it brought to his life, and others as well, and wonder how long it will take until his unluckiness will lead him back to the very situation he was rescued from when he was a mere baby.

He forgot how long it was when he had experienced something good, miraculously so. The only time he can recall being so was when he encountered the Honorary Knight, convened with them as a temporary adventure team, and found a treasure chest containing items he has only dreamed of in his sleep deep within a domain. However, that was many moons ago, and nothing has ever compared to it ever since. The moment he departed from the Honorary Knight, his bad luck came instantly to bite him.

It was far too long ago. Sometimes, Bennett wondered if that would be the only good thing that can happen to him in his lifetime, and thank the Archons he was wrong because the very worst day that came upon him is a day he will never exchange for another - the day he met you. When it was raining, thunder in the distance, lightning striking trees and soil, his bruised and bleeding form hardly covered under a small and flimsy tent, you graced him with your presence, and an umbrella which you used to cover both of you.

He had never stopped admiring you ever since. His eyes always followed you, wide and shining. He remembered the warmth in his chest and the redness tinting his cheeks when you brought him to your abode and treated his wounds with care gentler than the Deaconess. When he told you what happened to him, he anticipated to he shoved out of the house immediately and have your front door slammed on his face, but you did not. When he warned you about his curse, telling you how you will be affected when you spend a little too much time with him, the look of fright did not cross your visage and you even insisted that he not leave your house until you were sure he was capable of moving without pain, even if you had instantly been affected by his unluckiness (you pricked your finger quite badly when you were stitching a deep wound of his. He always felt guilty for that and has not stopped offering his apologies whenever it pricks the corner of his mind).

Other than the team of adventurers who had saved him from peril when he was a baby, it was difficult to find someone who will stay with him, through bad times and more of it. One cannot simply imagine and comprehend the confusion and happiness that seized him when he found out you were spending more and more time with him, not out pity but because you enjoy his company (which was weird, but he'll take it).

You possessed no Vision, but Bennett never saw you in an inferior light. In fact, it impressed him how you can hold yourself without the aid of any power. Enemies took a little longer to eradicate but ultimately, you were always successful. He held you in high regard, and very much like a certain blond traveler, the poor boy thought it was merely friendship and respect he felt towards you. After all, wouldn't a friend accompany him in his adventures no matter what disappointing or gratifying the outcome is? Wouldn't a friend prepare meals for him before he goes off on a solo expedition? Wouldn't a friend stay up late up waiting for him to return after? Wouldn't a friend welcome him by the entrance of Mondstadt upon his arrival? Wouldn't a friend give him butterflies in his stomach? Wouldn't a friend make his heart pound in a way

It had taken the Traveler and his floating companion for Bennett to learn about how exactly he was feeling for you.

He liked you, and not in the way he liked the traveler or Razor - he liked liked you.

When he realized about his feelings, Bennett nearly short circuit every time you go near him. His face flush a rich color of vermillion, his confident posture stripped down to a coy and uncertain stance, his eyes darted and never meeting yours for too long, a sheepish smile painted over his brims - Bennett had never felt this way before. It was foreign to him - liking someone - and it was worse for him because you were his one of his few friends (you, Razor, the Traveler and their floating friend), and having you withdraw from him if you ever learned his feelings frightened him more than any Ruin Guard could.

He didn't bother entertaining the idea of you returning his feelings. With his bad luck, it was bound to end in a rejection, and he didn't believe he had the heart to accept the hurt that would come.

Bennett tried to keep his feeling a secret, he really, genuinely, did. He locked his feelings for you in a box and stowed away somewhere behind his mind. But it didn't take you too long to catch on. Bennett's theatrics wasn't as impenetrable as he originally thought because there was no other reason for you to corner him in a street in Mondstadt after he tried to avoid crossing paths with you, and admit your feelings to him.

"( Your Name )," Stuttered Bennett, eyes darting to the side to avoid your eyes as he pressed his back against the wall behind him. You gazed at him, a tint of red over your cheek.

Archon, how are you so adorable?

"Uh, hi," He greeted meekly, as he rubbed the back of his head. "I-I was just about to leave for an adventure - "

"Bennett," You spoke, and he froze at the tone of your voice.

He looked at you properly, gulping. Shy eyes, shy smile, shy, shy, shy - and yet somehow, Bennett thought the worse - that you found out about his feelings and was about to turn him down.

He almost got down on his knees and press his hands together in a praying position, head bowed, and beg to keep your friendship. It didn't matter if you did not share his feelings. You were more important than his stupid feelings. He can deal with the hurt of rejection that will soon to come, but losing you completely? Can he even come to terms with that?

But before he can do such humiliating display, you leaned in and pressed a kiss on his cheek,

It was almost too good to be true, and with someone like him, Bennett had to take a moment to comprehend what has happened. His feelings were reciprocated, opposite of what should have been considering his dilemma. How can this be? He was sure your friendship would be put to an end when you learn about what he felt for you. How did you even know that he liked you? Has he been too obvious? Surely not (he was). Perhaps you were merely toying with him, discovering his feelings and choosing to use it as a way to alleviate your boredom -

Horror struck him when he processed the message behind his doubt. How could he think so little of you? Someone as sweet and kind as you would be repulsed by the intention of the actions he thought you were presenting to him. Prideful as this may sound, Bennett believed he knew you enough to know you were sincere in everything you do.

But even if both your feelings are revealed to be mutual, the two of you agreed to wait until a certain age before forming a romantic relationship. The two of you are young and there are a lot more the world can offer outside Mondstadt. There are countless of opportunities to grow and be mature, to be able to have a set of qualities to take of one another.

But that didn't mean the two of you easily managed to hold back showcasing your favor for the other. Bennett will always find himself exchanging secret glances and smile with you whenever a third party joins in on your adventure. He would stick by your side in situations he think could potentially lead you to a major injury. He will attempt (and fail, unfortunately) to whip you up with something delicious when he has free time. And you did the same to him.

With you, there was never a time where his heart wasn't beating against his chest. He can't stop himself from bounding recklessly through his adventures whenever you accompany him, although he will still keep a close eye on you just in case something bad happens to you (but it's always him who ends up injured).

But what he liked the most are the kisses the two of you share. Short, chaste, and shy - whether it be behind closed doors, when others are looking away, or when the two of you set of on an adventure.

Bennett would lay in his bed with a smile on his face, his thundering heart preventing him from sleeping. He'll often find himself burying his face against his pillow, grinning from ear to ear.

This smile was different. This wasn't smile that he usually wore, the kind of smile that persevered through hardship after another. No, it was the sort of smile that was too carefree and too full of utmost joy, no worries or doubts in his heart. Everyday he always woke up to the excitement of adventure, but now, the excitement of it and seeing you once again always had him brimming with the want for the night to be over with so he can chase after his dreams with you. Chasing his dreams with you, what a life.

His world is full of a bad luck, but he thanked the Archons for giving him someone he can depend on in the troubling waters he always he seem to drown in.

Bennett, embarrassing it may sound, often laid on his bed imagining about marrying you.

He can see himself making a fool out of himself when he gets down on one knee and propose to you. It'll be set in the most beautiful place he discovered in one of his adventure, somewhere quiet. Like maybe on top of a mountain overseeing a vast field.

Because of his bad luck, he'll try to prepare for every outcome. To be very sure everything will be saved, he made sure he created a plan B for his plan A, a plan C for his plan B, and so on, and so forth.

He can imagine himself fumbling over his words, blushing a bright red was made prominent because of his white hair, holding a bunch of hand picked flowers a little too tightly, sweat pouring from his face, his suit and hair a little ruffled -

If you say yes (spoiler alert, you will), he will most probably go haywire with shock and happiness, causing him to drop the ring down the mountain, and the two of you will spend quite some time looking for it. But in the end, you two will find it somewhere deep underground or deep underwater (to which you will ask help to retrieve) (Bennett offered to go down to get the ring but you can’t take any chances) and then you can start planning the wedding.

If Bennett had backup plans for his proposal, then expect there'll be much more backups with your wedding. He needed this day to be perfect for you, and his bad luck won't stop him from providing it for you. Even if he had to fight through horde after horde of Hilichurls (please stop him when he does, he definitely will do that for you), making you happy is his top priority.

Bennett will be extremely anxious the day before the wedding. He'll be pacing around his room, and has half a mind of running over to your place and spending the night there to reassure himself that you still want to marry him, and that you’re absolutely sure you want to spend the rest of your life with him. It will be Razor - who the Traveler spent hours teaching the basic information of the role of Best Man to - who will calm his nerves. He’ll stop Bennett from reaching your house and carry him back to his own, and giving him a lecture (he did his best) like the best man he was.

Was he having second thoughts on marrying you? No way! He will just be nervous about how the wedding will go. With his bad luck, something horrible is bound to happen.

At the day of the wedding, Bennett can imagine himself constantly seeking reassurance from his best man.

"What if I mess up?" Questions Bennett to Razor, anxious hands fiddling with his tie.

"Messing up is . . . normal." Razor will reassure him, but Bennett will shake his head.

“But it's me. When I mess up, it's always . . . catastrophic . . . ”

Bennett hoped that at least for his wedding way, everything will go smoothly. A perfect day, for you and for him. He won't embarrass you or himself. He won't forget the rings, he won't have his clothes tucked inside out, he will not spill any food or drinks on himself or on his guests, there will be no random Hilichurl attacks - none of that.

He really hoped for the Archons to spare him from his bad luck.

He will be able to stand by the altar with confidence and a smile, waiting for you to walk down the aisle.

As Bennett is consumed with his thoughts, his eyes drew to the small table at the side of his bed and caught sight of the picture of the two of you perched on the surface. It was a picture you took with a kamera after one of his adventures. The two of you smiling happily as he showcased the loot of vegetables and wheat he gathered in numerous luxurious chests. It was good day, that picture was. He found more resources than usual. Of course, he learned from the Traveler that most of the chest they found contained treasures but hey, vegetables are better than nothing, right?

Bennett stared at your smiling face and can feel the heat creep on his cheeks as he imagined you in a pretty, white wedding dress, smiling at him so shyly and cute - oh, Archons, help him. May them have mercy on him. Of course, you always looked pretty to him - so, so pretty - but in your wedding day? Archons, he doesn't know if he can take that. It'll be too much for his big heart.

He can only imagine how your wedding will play out, but there is one thing he was sure of and that is that he will burst into tears once he laid his eyes upon you - and not the soft cry most men do in their wedding, oh, not at all like that. His heart is too big with too much love for you, and too soft to control his emotions properly.

Bennett will cry (bawl, actually), his tears of joy coming in streams, and it was loud enough for strangers to think he was grieving over a deceased loved one. He was hiccupping and sobbing, will probably be holding on to his vest tightly as if his entire lifeline depended on the pressure of how he crumpled the fabric. He hoped that in that time, Razor or the Traveler will lend him a hand and calm him down before he can ruin his own wedding.

Bennett, as he happily imagined that fateful day to come in the future (spoilers again, it will) did not feel a tear slip from the corner of his eye as he drifted off to a pleasant slumber with a beaming smile.

The boy absolutely adores you.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #diluc x reader #zhongli x reader #aether x reader #bennett x reader #childe x reader #tartaglia x reader

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andypantsx3 · 3 years

Text

subtle | shouto todoroki/reader

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

status: complete

length: 2,171 words

summary: Someone leaves chocolates on your desk. You're determined to track down the sender, certain it's a mistake, and Shouto Todoroki makes himself as unhelpful as possible.

tags: romance, reader-insert, fluff, valentine’s day

warnings: aged up characters (no smut though!!)

There was a box on your desk.

There was a box on your desk, and the sight of it was enough to instantly set you on edge.

The box looked normal enough, if a little fancy, maybe. Its lacquered top glinted brightly under the fluorescent office lighting, its smooth, polished sides waterfalling into the soft matte of your desktop underneath. You weren’t close enough to read the inscription, but you could just make out some elegant, curling script inlaid into the top of the box, possibly the name of whichever company had produced it.

The box looked very normal, in fact. Only, you knew it wasn’t. Boxes didn’t just show up in the middle of the Todoroki Hero Agency, a campus swimming with pros and armed with layers of security so deep it took even you--Shouto Todoroki’s manager--fifteen full minutes to get through screening every morning. It was something very much like being a prison guard at Tartarus.

So either this box meant the agency was dealing with a security breach the likes of which had scarcely been seen before, or someone had mistaken your desk for somebody else’s.

Which, considering it was Valentine’s Day, made a lot more sense.

Buoyed by the realization it wasn't a security risk, you crept closer, peering at the box, and the script resolved itself into the name of the extremely fancy chocolatier in Hiroo district that you made a point of drooling over every time you had to make a house call on Shouto. Their prices were literally insane, so you had never let yourself wander inside, unwilling to shell out an entire week’s pay for a tiny set of chocolates. Even if they did look absolutely fucking unbelievable from the window.

Your mouth watered.

That confirmed it--this was a Valentine's gift, and it was definitely a mistake. For the briefest of seconds, you’d wondered if maybe you had gotten obligatory office friendship chocolates, but this was too much. Some poor, love-sodden flop had gone out, spent their week’s pay on someone they were clearly very serious about, and then proceeded to fuck the entire thing up by plonking their gift straight onto your desk instead of their intended’s.

You frowned, quickly checking the box over for some kind of clue as to who had left it. There was no note included, nothing even mildly helpful that would give you the slightest hint of the person who'd left it here. Which left you with the question of how to return the box to the sender without knowing who they were, or how to pass it on to whoever they’d really meant it for.

You drew your bottom lip between your teeth, staring hard at the surface of the box like you could crack its code if only you glared hard enough. The box stared back at you, unhelpfully silent.

You were still skewering the box with your gaze some minutes later, determined to unravel its secrets, when a deep voice murmured from your doorway.

“You look puzzled."

You startled, whipping around to find Shouto propping up the wall, looking as unfairly handsome as usual. He was watching you intently, those heterochromatic eyes fastened to your face in that careful way he had, the one that always made you feel too warm and slightly unfocused. As usual, it was all you could do to remind yourself that you were a professional and he was something solidly between a friend and a coworker, and no matter how cute and attentive he was, you shouldn't get any ideas.

This morning, he was dressed in his hero uniform, tall and broad-shouldered, his distinctive hair only a little ruffled from his early patrol. It wasn’t often someone tried something in the districts he watched over anymore, probably too nervous to find themselves on the wrong end of the number four hero’s temper. You knew from the reports you received to your phone that the only trouble he’d encountered this morning was a pack of amorous school girls purposely misusing their quirks to draw his attention.

Thirty minutes ago, in fact, you’d almost spit out your coffee laughing at a photo of him looking wildly uncomfortable as he attempted to ice down some girl’s lava quirk with his right hand while fighting off her unfathomably enormous bouquet with his left. It was only right that he should suffer once a year, when every other day he got to stalk about as handsome as you please, oblivious to the effects his appearance had on every breathing person within a five mile radius.

You gave him an absent nod, gaze drawn back to the box on your desk.

“Somebody accidentally left something in here,” you told him, gesturing to it. “I’m trying to figure out how to track down who it was, or who it was meant for.”

Shouto made a small noise in the back of his throat, almost like a cough, and it was enough to startle you into looking up at him again.

“What?” you asked, peering at him. Was he coming down with something? It wasn't often he got sick, but when he did, he usually attempted to hide it and needed to be steamrolled into taking time off. You looked him over, trying to assess whether or not you needed to start badgering him now.

Shouto gazed back at you evenly, his expression deceptively bland. “...You think it’s not for you.”

You felt yourself blink at him, surprised by the comment and struggling to discern his meaning. What did he mean, you think it’s not for you? “Of course it’s not for me, Shouto, it’s from Grégoire Chardin.”

You knew he’d know the place, considering he lived in the same fancy rich people neighborhood as the chocolatier, but Shouto looked unimpressed.

“Why should that mean it’s not for you?” he asked, his tone dry.

The remark caught you off guard, as his comments sometimes did, and you bit down something like a smile. Bless his sweet, oblivious, rich boy heart. Either he overestimated your appeal to his agency staff, or he really did not understand the concepts of cost and return on investment.

“It’s expensive, it’s not something you would give someone as obligatory chocolates,” you explained, watching as a white eyebrow went up. His expression sharpened into something you couldn’t read well.

“It could be a secret admirer,” he said.

You stared blankly back at him, absolutely floored by the idea.

He thought you had a secret admirer? The idea sent an excited thrill all the way down to your toes, but you quickly squashed the feeling. So far, you'd never been on the receiving end of any furtive but romantic gestures, and you really didn't get any interested vibes from anyone in the office, no lingering glances or excuses to spend more time with you. The person who paid you the most amount of attention was Shouto, which was to be expected, considering how closely you worked together. And obviously he wasn't interested, he was just happy to stand in your doorway spouting wild conspiracies about his agency staffers like they were completely reasonable things to say.

“I don’t have a secret admirer,” you told him.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a thin line and he took an intent step forward into your office. “Is the point of a secret admirer not to be exactly that--secret? How can you be sure?”

You couldn’t help it--you gaped at him, your face going weirdly warm. Okay, was he--was he serious? You obviously weren’t the most unfortunate creature on earth, and you even had your good days, but nobody in their right mind was going to attempt anything with you when there were girls like Nejire Hado and Ibara Shiozaki roaming the hallways of his agency. Even several of the analysts and most of the support crew had you beat out in terms of appeal--literally bless this man for his obvious indifference to your appearance.

“I, uh--thanks for your confidence in me,” you said, fighting down a laugh. “But I assure you, it definitely wasn’t meant for me. I just have to figure out who left it and who they meant it for.”

Shouto shifted impatiently, like he was waiting for something.

“You’re so certain,” he said, sounding frustrated.

“Of course I am,” you waved at him vaguely. It was actually super cute that he thought you could net yourself a dude who was willing to shell out Grégoire Chardin dollars, but you were just wasting time now, lingering over the least important part of this entire affair. “Listen, Shouto. I know sometimes men talk in the locker rooms. If you--if you hear anything, will you let me know? I just want to return it, it looks way too good sitting here.”

It was actually taking all your willpower not to open it and avail yourself of Japan’s finest chocolate, considering you would never have another opportunity like this again. Maybe you should just pretend it was for you....Really, no one could fault you for opening something left in your own office. But...no. No, you knew better.

Shouto appeared indifferent to your internal struggle. He watched you for a long moment, his features impassive. “Under one condition,” he finally allowed.

You cocked an ear to show you were listening, rifling around with the paperwork on your desk to distract yourself from the chocolate. You were strong, a good person. You had willpower like steel. You did not need to eat it, no no no.

“If no one comes looking for it by the end of the day, you will open it,” he said, moving closer.

You glanced up at him, shocked. “Shouto, this is someone else’s gift,” you hissed. “I can’t just open it.”

He placed a large palm down on your desk, leaning over you slightly. “That is my bargain.”

“You want me to steal somebody’s shit in your own agency,” you accused him. You tried not to pay attention to how close he had gotten, how straight his nose was up close, the way his eyes seemed brighter and his mouth pulled into a pout almost too pretty for a man.

The rest of his expression slipped into something like annoyance, matching his pout. “If no one comes for it, then it must be evident that it was meant for you.”

You suppressed a derisive laugh. Now was not the time to get shirty with your own boss, especially when his delusions were kind of sweet. It was honestly just short of a miracle that a man who looked like Shouto did could possibly think anyone on earth would have a thing for you, regardless of his own tastes.

“What if they’re just too shy to ask for it back?” you asked, watching those heterochromatic eyes flick over you curiously.

“If it’s as expensive as you say, someone will come looking,” he said. Which was actually kind of annoyingly reasonable.

A smirk flitted across his maddeningly perfect face when you failed to come up with another argument. He had a point, and he knew it.

You let out a gusty sigh. “Fine, but only because I’m certain someone will come looking for it. Please be subtle when you’re gathering info, okay? I'm sure this is embarrassing for whoever made this mistake.”

Shouto looked almost offended. “I am perfectly capable of being subtle,” he intoned in his deep voice.

This time, you did laugh. He was quiet, maybe, very perceptive, and unobtrusive when he wanted to be, but no one had ever accused the man of possessing tact. “Yeah, okay. Just, try to channel more subtlety than you think you need, okay? No one else but the sender needs to know about the mix up.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Shouto was leaning over you more fully, eyes glittering strangely as his clean, fresh scent met your nose. You froze in your chair, brain going horrifyingly vacant as he leaned impossibly nearer. What the fuck was he doing?

“It will be like I’m not even asking,” Shouto promised, his voice light. “Not asking anyone at all.”

You tried to scrape your thoughts back into something resembling order, but the effort was all but futile. You needed to get him out of your space stat before you embarrassed yourself.

”Okay, then it’s a deal,” you said quickly. “Now go...flambé a villain or something.”

Shouto lingered for a long moment, his mouth curling a little at the corner, like he was being let in on a secret you couldn’t hear. His eyes brushed over you, almost like a physical touch. And then he was gone, pulling open the door to your office, looking annoyingly pleased with himself.

“You will see,” he said by way of farewell. “You will find out how subtle I can be.”

You stared at him in confusion, but he didn’t explain himself. He just smirked, and closed the door behind himself.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #shouto todoroki x reader

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latte-fairytaekwoon · 3 years

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𝚂𝚎𝚡 𝚃𝚊𝚙𝚎 (𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐 & 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒 𝚂𝚊𝚗) 𝚁𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚍

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: 𝙺𝚒𝚖 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐 (𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣) × 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 (𝙵𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎) × 𝙲𝚑𝚘𝚒 𝚂𝚊𝚗 (𝙰𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚣)

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝚂𝚖𝚞𝚝, 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏.

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚛𝚘𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚟𝚘𝚛𝚜, 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐'𝚜 𝚗𝚎𝚠 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚛𝚎𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚊𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚐𝚛𝚘𝚞𝚙 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚜.

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟻𝙺+

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚅𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚞𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚖, 𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚝𝚊𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 (𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝), 𝚎𝚡𝚑𝚒𝚋𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚜𝚖, 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚙𝚕𝚎 𝚙𝚒𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜, 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚕 (𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚏𝚎𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚎𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐), 𝚜𝚙𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚙*𝚜𝚜𝚢 𝚜𝚕𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚍𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗, 𝚞𝚗𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚜𝚎𝚡 (𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗), 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖𝚙𝚒𝚎, 𝚅𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚞𝚛! 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝙷𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚓𝚘𝚘𝚗𝚐 × 𝙳𝚘𝚖! 𝚂𝚊𝚗 × 𝚂𝚞𝚋! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: @seacottons @multidreams-and-desires @yunhofingers @yunhoiseyecandy @little-precious-baby @galaxteez @deja-vux @brie02 @couchpotatoaniki @rvse-miingi @daniblogs164 @a-soft-hornytiny

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The young female looked at the male in front of her in an appalled manner.

"Umm.....what?" She could not believe the words that just came out of his mouth.

Her boyfriend however didn't seem bothered by her reaction nor did the overly enthusiastic smile on his face brush off.

"How do you feel about helping me make a sex tape?" He repeated his previous request.

The girl raised an eyebrow at him, wondering if perhaps he was still drunk from the previous night in which he and some of the other members decided to act like dumb teens and got wasted in their dorm, resulting in him drunk calling his girlfriend and her coming over to help out the oldest and the tallest member control the other 6 men who were going berserk.

"When did you even get an idea like that?" She questioned him.

"Last night actually."

She threw her hands up and huffed.

"That's it. I'm not letting you anywhere near any alchohol for the next year." She swore to herself.

"Awww Y/N, baby, come on, don't be like that. Hear me out."

Taking one of her arms, he pressed her body against his, both of them still warm given it hadn't been long since they got out of the comfort of the bed. With one hand caressing her lower back and the other running itself through her hair, Hongjoong began to lazily press kiss across her jaw, knowing fully well it was a weakness to get her to give in.

"Think about how pretty you'll look. I'll edit it so you look even more beautiful. It'll be like one of those romantic adult films we watch together, and I know for a fact you like watching the explicit scenes."

Y/N let out a soft and shy giggle at being called out like that. She had often wondered, even out loud, how actors could actually go forth with such erotic scenes. She had to admit she admired their courage for doing them so effortlessly.

"Are you sure it's not something you wanna film to take with you whenever you're oversea? Watch a replay of you fucking me dumb?"

Now it was Hongjoong's turn to blush red. Y/N noticed how he swallowed hard, meaning there was something else.

"Hongjoong..... you were suggesting that you film us having sex...right?"

Hongjoong's eyes began to waver nervously.

"Well um...I was actually thinking more along the lines of....... someone else.....fucking you.." He stammered the last parts out.

"Are you serious?!" Y/N pushed him off her in a horrified manner, her hands fanning her face as she felt herself getting hot all of a sudden.

"Come on. You're acting like it's illegal or something. No one else besides us, and I guess the third person, will know about it." He tried to convince her.

"It's not illegal but it is insane. Who did you even think would agree to something like this?" She crossed her arms, waiting to hear what brilliant idea he came up with.

"I was hoping one of the guys would be a willing-"

"No way! That'd be even more embarrassing! It already gets awkward whenever one of them accidentally walks around with no shirt on around me, how could I possibly look at them in the face after we fuck?"

Not willing to listen to her crazy boyfriend, Y/N picked up her bag and reminded him to drink lots of water before sauntering out of his room, waving goodbye to Seonghwa who was in the kitchen and leaving before Hongjoong made things more embarrassing for her. Slumping down on the kitchen table, Hongjoong had a huge pout on his face.

"Lover's quarrels?" His same age friend asked as he began rinsing the dishes.

"Something like that." Hongjoong sighed.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure you two will figure it out. One of you ends up giving in sooner or later." He assured him.

Seonghwa was indeed right. Even if either one of you said no at first, you'd always, always, end up giving in just to try something new. That thought made Hongjoong lighten up and he began to think more about how to put his plan in motion. Firstly, he needed to pick one of the members who not only would be comfortable doing something like that, but would match the needed sex appeal.

"Jongho is out of the question. He's never even dated anyone." Hongjoong began thinking, evaluating in his head all his possible candidates.

"Mingi isn't a good choice either, he already has a lot to deal with so I'm not even going to bother with him."

Hongjoong then thought about Yeosang. He was good looking, but the problem was Yeosang was extremely reserved, not to mention he and Y/N weren't very close to each other. It would be bad chemistry. And his roommate and best friend Wooyoung was a strict no.

"I already know that little brat has a little crush on my girlfriend. If anything letting him fuck her would be like giving a little kid a candy shop all to themselves. I need someone who has absolutely no romantic inclinations so afterwards everything can go back to normal."

Turning his head, Hongjoong scanned Seonghwa up and down. He seemed like a possible choice. He was tall, very handsome, he and Y/N got along very well, in fact he was the one closest to her besides him. He knew for a fact Seonghwa was not innocent or pure in the slightest bit. And he'd be very professional about it. It seemed there was no question about Seonghwa being the best candidate.

"Wait! But they're close. What if this plan backfires and I accidentally ruin their friendship?"

Hongjoong groaned as he realized this was proving to be a lot harder than he thought. His mind then thought about Yunho. Yunho would be perfect in the more erotic sense given his size. He was tall, lean but well built and with defined muscles. And it'd be pretty interesting to watch and see if his girlfriend would be able to take a monster cock like that cause Yunho was definitely packing a lot.

Getting up, Hongjoong seemed decided as he walked down the hallway to have a little chat with his favorite donsaeng. Just before he could knock on the door to his room, it actually opened by itself, or more like, someone else came out right at that moment. It was none other than San, whose recently dyed blonde hair was messy. His skin had somewhat of a glow to it even if he was suffering from a major hangover. He was completely shirtless, his honey abs looking amazing as usual. The sweatpants he was wearing were hanging low on him, the V line near his pelvis poking out. And to top off the visual, his nipples were sticking out due to the piercings that he had recently gotten, a naughty secret that he had kept well hidden for a while til Wooyoung ratted him out. Hongjoong had never actually seen them, but now that he did, a light bulb went off in his head.

"Hyung.....my head is killing me." San groaned loudly, one arm weakly holding him steady against the doorframe.

That tiny sound that came out of the younger male's mouth sealed the deal for Hongjoong. San was absolutely perfect.

"Sannie....... when you're feeling better, Hyung wants to talk to you about something."

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"You're looking especially lovely tonight my dear." Hongjoong looked at his girlfriend who was sitting patiently on her bed, wearing a cute off white two piece lingerie set.

"You always say things like that whenever I'm going to suck your dick." She pointed out, although it wasn't meant to be ill intended.

Hongjoong simply continued to have that suspicious smirk plastered on as he finished setting up the last camera, having placed several ones on different parts of the room to capture different angles of the scene that was about to take place in those 4 walls. On a small stand, he had already installed his laptop so he could monitor more closely all the shots being taken and to start or pause anything if needed. Glancing at the time, he knew it was only a matter of time before their guest arrived.

"You're taking awfully long for someone who was aching to get their dick wet." She snorted, wondering how on earth could Hongjoong be so calm and collected.

Hearing a knock on the door, Y/N raised an eyebrow as she was not expecting anyone, but it seemed Hongjoong wasn't fazed at all. He actually sprinted out of his seat in lighting speed to open the door.

"Yeah but it's not my dick that's getting wet." He sent her a wink.

Before she could even ask him what he meant, San was already being dragged inside the room. He too looked puzzled when he saw his older friend's girlfriend on the bed wearing something so daring.

"Wow! Ok! I take it I got here too early?" San asked as he covered up his face with his hands.

"No San, you're not early. You're right on time actually."

Slumping an arm around him, Hongjoong pulled him into the center of the room.

"He's the one getting his dick wet."

Once she realized what was happening, Y/N grabbed a pillow and chucked it at her scheming boyfriend.

"Kim Hongjoong! You liar! You told me that we were going to be filming a sex tape between ourselves!" She exclaimed.

"A what?!" A confused San shouted, now more embarrased than ever.

"I knew that if I told you both what I really wanted you here for neither of you would agree and would probably think I'm weird or something." Hongjoong tried to explain himself.

"Oh I don't think, I know you're weird, wanting one of your members and your girlfriend to fuck each other just so you could make a porn out of it."

San reddened furiously at her words, eyes looking everywhere but at Hongjoong or Y/N. By now he had already opted for just staying quiet as he listened to the couple banter back and forth amongst themselves.

"What made you think San, out of all people, would want to even touch me?"

That caught said man's attention.

"Wait, hold on. What's that supposed to mean?" He squinted at her, eyes narrowing into slits. Y/N could feel the immediate change in his demeanor.

"Well you know just that.....it's you we're talking about San. Do you know how many girls thirst over you? Why would you even bother looking at someone like me when you look like that?" She gestured at his body and face, trying to get her point across.

San felt somewhat offended by her statement. She made it out to be like he was superficial or that he only cared about looks. Moreover, he didn't like hearing her talk about herself in that way. Brushing past his Hyung, San came to stand in front Y/N, eyes peering down at her. Feeling the intensity of his stare bear down on her, especially given her state of near undress contrasting his full dressed self made her feel self conscious. When she tried to cross her arms to cover herself, San was having none of that as he suddenly gripped her wrists and held them in front of her face.

"And do you have any idea how many of us have checked you out even though we know that you belong to Hongjoong? Do you think some of us didn't feel bad when we found out he decided to take you for himself?"

His admittance not only shocked her but her boyfriend behind them, who had thought only one member had been disappointed when they announced that they were dating. Noticing her shocked expression, San leaned in and smiled at her innocently.

"Don't worry too much about me though, I was mostly disappointed at the fact that I might never get a chance to tap that cute ass of yours." He expressed with no hint of shame whatsoever. San drew his gaze down to fully look at her, admire her silhouette for the first time ever since he walked in the room.

"But now that I know Hyung wants someone to fuck his girlfriend...well.... it'd be my pleasure." He let out a low chuckle before pulling her against him, hands caressing the sides of her torso. Taking one of her hands, he brought it up to his face to place kisses on her palm. Turning to the man that was forgotten for a minute, San raised an eyebrow.

"Tell me right now if there's anything you definitely don't want me to do, otherwise I'm going to have my way with her as I like."

Hongjoong thought about it for a second, wondering if there was something he did not want.

"You're absolutely not allowed to leave hickeys on her. I don't mind you leaving red hand prints or even cumming inside her since that can be cleaned up or will fade in a coupe's hours."

Moving back to go sit on the chair next to the laptop, Hongjoong leaned back and stared at San with a warning glare.

"But I want absolutely nothing that will last for days. That's only for me to do."

San scoffed at how silly Hongjoong sounded, but nodded nonetheless. Meanwhile Y/N looked back and forth at their exchange with fascination. It was arousing hearing them talk about her as if she was nothing more than a mere sex object, and she was loving it.

"Oh and San? Remember I'm going to film this. Try to make it as interested as possible. I mean... if you can that is." Hongjoong smiled slyly, sending challenge to the younger member.

"Oh trust me. I'll fuck her like she's famous." San bragged.

Y/N watched as San began pulling his shirt over his head. Raking her eyes over his arms, abs and chest, they widened considerably when they saw the metal piercings on his nipples. One hand actually came to clasp around her open mouth, she was that surprised.

"Remember I told you not to baby him too much cause he's not actually a baby?" Hongjoong snickered at her reaction, actually finding it funny.

"Hey if it diverts attention from you, I don't care."

Pushing her back until they were right next to the bed, San cupped her face and leaned in, lips nearly kissing hers.

"Are you all right with this?" He wanted to get her consent before anything else.

Letting out a hum, Y/N wrapped her hands on the base of his neck.

"Fuck me like I'm famous." She repeated what he said before.

"Ok."

As soon as their bodies and mouths connected, Hongjoong's finger pressed record so as to not miss anything. Sitting back, he decided to enjoy the show, a satisfied smile on his face after seeing that everything had gone according to plan. Their lips molded perfectly against each other's, their makeout session rivaling those of some of the biggest and steamy ones they'd see on tv. Tracing the outline of his lips with her tongue, Y/N successfully managed to get San to allow her access into his mouth. Her tongue settled against his and vice versa, muffled humming adding to the intensity of their kiss. San couldn't keep his hands off her lower back, eventually placing them right on her ass. Hongjoong inwardly patted himself on the back as he had deduced before that San was more of an ass man and now he was getting confirmation of it as he watched his hands cup and harshly squeeze his girlfriend's cheeks.

Not wanting only him to have his fun, Y/N thought it would be a good idea to test just how sensitive his nipples were. Sliding a hand up his torso, it pressed itself onto one of his pecs. She grinned when San emitted a whimper in her mouth when she pinched on his nipple, making sure to twist some of the piercing around.

"Oh my-" San groaned when her mouth detached itself from his in order to give attention to his nipples. He was whining and whimpering each time her tongue flicked around his buds and letting out choked gasps when her teeth would softly tug at them.

"Enjoying your new toy?" Hongjoong piped up, reminding them both that they were being watched.

"Just as much as you're enjoying me wreck your girl." San spat back at him, hissing when he suddenly felt Y/N sucked onto one of his nipples.

"Please. I've barely seen any action yet."

Hearing his taunting words, San pushed Y/N onto her knees, bringing her face close to the tent in his pants. Tilting her chin up, he rubbed his thumb across her bottom lip.

"You have really pretty lips. All plump and pink.... I wonder how they'll look like if they're red, swollen and stuffed with my cock."

Making a quick work of his zipper, San pulled his jeans down along with his underwear, letting out his cock that was thick and well above average in length. Y/N licked her lips when she saw that the tip was glistening with precum that had dripped out when it was freed from its confinement. San was definitely bigger than Hongjoong, she wasn't going to deny that. She began to wonder if she could even fit that entire thing in her mouth, but she for sure wanted to try.

"I think the little cockslut is eager to suck you off San." Hongjoong sat up straighter in his seat, eyes focused on every detail in front of him.

"Is that right?"

Y/N exhaled softly when she felt San slap his cock against her cheek, running the tip on her cupid's bow.

"Go ahead. Just try and see if you can take me." He shot her a cocky grin.

Wanting to wipe that grin off his face, Y/N inserted the tip inside her mouth, keeping eye contact with San the entire time. She first tested the waters by slurping his head, indeed getting a reaction out of him since his thighs involuntarily shuddered. Feeling motivated, she slowly took more of him into her mouth, inch by inch he was slowly stuffing her full. Her cheeks hollowed out to help her fit him better, but still she gagged slightly when she felt him hit the back of her throat. Nevertheless she was proud of herself at being able to stuff his cock in her.

"Holy crap Y/N, are you trying to prove something?" Hongjoong stared in shock and arousal at seeing his significant other with another man's cock down her throat.

"Yeah, prove that she likes my cock better than yours." San gloated as he pulled her off his length only to stuff it back in and causing the female under him to let out a choked out gasp followed by a line of drool spilling onto the floor.

Grabbing her hair and pulling it up into a makeshift ponytail, San used it to keep her head up as he began a pattern of pulling out slowly only to force himself back inside her. He loved watching the messy scene in between his legs. Spit running down Y/N's chin, the corners of her eyes stained with tears, her muffled whines that were muted every time his shaft filled her mouth, the way his leader was sitting just a few feet away watching as his precious girlfriend was getting face fucked by someone else, San was enjoying it too much. His head was thrown back as he kept forcing his cock deep in her mouth, the loud slurping sounds of her swallowing around him complimenting the hisses and groans that were being exuded from his lips.

"Fuck! Oh my- are you ok with me cumming in your mouth?"

Judging by the way Y/N moaned around his organ and her hand cupped his balls to fondle them, San was taking that as a green light. Releasing her hair, he held onto the back of her head and pushed himself forcefully to and fro in her wet cavern, using it as leverage to help him reach his climax. Through shattered breath and clenched teeth, San's cum poured down her throat, hips stuttering and bucking further up to help him ride out his orgasm. When he pulled out, Y/N immediately gasped for air, her hair in complete disarray, lips darkened and wet with saliva.

"If that isn't one of the hottest images I've ever seen." Hongjoong added his input. He always did love seeing what a mess Y/N turned into after getting her pretty and delicate face fucked and abused.

Y/N smiled over at her boyfriend, looking at the tent in his pants before sending him a flirty wink accompanied by a swipe of tongue across her lips.

"You can suck him off after I'm done with you baby, but right now, I want you focused on me." San made her turn her attention back to him as he lifted her off the floor and set her on the edge of the bed. He showed no hesitation as he practically ripped her underwear off her body before tossing it behind him, making sure it landed on Hongjoong's lap.

"Jerk yourself off with that in the meantime cause you're not getting her back for a while."

Toying with the fabric in his hand, Hongjoong sneered at the younger male.

"Trust me, I have more self control than you'd think." He assured him.

"Let's see about that."

Getting down on his knees to be at eye level with her wet and shining folds, San dived in and began consuming her taste. His tongue moved languidly around her slit, savoring her taste on his tongue. Y/N's hands gripped and clutched the blanket underneath her, causing it to wrinkle up from how hard she was tugging at them. Her breath hitched whenever San gave all of his attention to her clit, sucking on the sensitive flesh until it began developing a slightly reddish tint. Her lips were also becoming engorged as San continued his assault on her mound, face practically buried inside her thighs. All throughout it, Hongjoong just took in every sharp intake of breath and every scrunched up expression Y/N made. It gave him joy to know she was definitely enjoying herself, her pleasure always been something he took into consideration.

"Good to see you know how to eat a girl out Sannie. I was afraid I was going to have to step in and show you why rapper are superior." He couldn't help himself but boast, after all, he had pride in being able to get a girl to cum multiple times with just his tongue.

Ignoring the older man's words, San gripped her thighs to hold her down. His tongue sped up as it slurped and slithered all over her heat, applying just enough pressure with his broad strokes across her labia folds. The girl on top of him tried to move his face away from her body as she felt the blood rushing down to her legs, face becoming heated as she knew she would burst any moment. She blamed Hongjoong for this, having spoiled and played around so much with her pussy that she was overly sensitive whenever she received oral sex. The fire pooling in her lower abdomen was about to explode.

"Ah! San- please!"

Muscles tightening and her upper body writhing, Y/N couldn't hold back as she began pumping out her orgasmic juices, her back falling back on the mattress while her mind blocked out anything that wasn't the immense feeling that was taking over her senses at the moment. San lapped up her juices generously, feeling smug about getting her to cum, although he knew it wouldn't be the only time she would be doing that. Sitting up, he allowed her to catch her breath and regain her senses before he continued with what he had in store.

Hongjoong looked with curiosity as San made Y/N sit back up and turned her over on all fours. Hongjoong couldn't stop the laugh that escaped his lips.

"You're gonna fuck her doggy style? Can't you be more creative?"

San didn't let his words deter him, he simply unclipped Y/N's bra and removed it from her body.

"I told you I was gonna fuck her like she's famous and that's exactly what I'm going to do."

His hands roamed across her body, caressing the curves and dips of her hips as he pressed his erection in between her ass cheeks. Y/N pushed her ass further back, impatient at the thought of having her hole filled up by him.

"See? Even she wants to be fucked like a little bitch in heat."

Y/N couldn't suppress the moan escaping her lips at being degraded like that.

"Wow, you're such a whore." Hongjoong mused when he heard her reaction.

"You offered this whore to your friend now suck it up and watch him pound my pussy." She giggled softly.

"Oh baby, I'm not just going to pound this pussy. I'm aiming to destroy it."

Lining himself against her hole, San slowly sunk his length deep into her walls. He felt as if he was being swallowed by her warmth that it took everything in him not to start fucking her right then. He made sure to give her time to adjust to his size.

"Hyung do you not fuck her enough? She's unbelievably tight and she feels too good." San grunted, dick twitching inside her as it ached for any sort of movement.

Hongjoong did not hide his displeased face.

"I fuck her quite often thank you very much."

San clicked his tongue in a cocky way.

"Whatever you say."

Y/N cried out in a high pitched tone when San suddenly pulled out only to plunge himself back into her. He set a merciless rhythm as his cock tore her walls open, stretching them as far as they could go, a stinging yet delicious burn heating her up. Strangled noises proceeded to spill forward from her throat mixing in perfectly with the sound of their skin smacking against each other. Shifting angles so his dick could hit against her g-spot every time it was shoved inside her, San's skin was already emitting that after sex glow, sweat beads forming on his temples. He looked completely focused, eyes trained on her ass cheeks that bounced with each of his thrusts. Unable to resist the urge, he brought one hand up so it could slap her skin.

"Oh s-shit!" She exclaimed, the force and unexpected smack on her bum nearly had her upper body collapsing on the bed.

"Can you smack her a little harder?" If Y/N wasn't so caught up with San fucking her so harshly, she would have noted the nearly sadistic tone in her boyfriend's voice.

"Just tell me if I can't take it baby." San caressed the patch of skin he had just slapped.

"Trust me, she can. She enjoys a little pain every now and then." Her boyfriend dished on that dirty little secret.

One slap was soon followed by several more. San made sure to alternate between each of her butt cheeks. Y/N's wailing began to get increasingly louder and frantic, her ass stinging every time San's hand smacked it, making a majority of it turn a deep red color. But he made sure that it wouldn't leave any bruising or anything of that sort remembering Hongjoong's previous rule.

"Damn you're so fucking loud."

The shocked gasp coming out her mouth was half muffled when San pushed her head against one of the pillows, effectively burying her loud mouth into the sheets.

"San didn't you said you'd fuck her like she's famous? Then why cover up her screaming?" Hongjoong pondered, one hand rubbing at the top of his thigh.

"Scream? You wanna really hear her scream?"

Yanking her back up from her hair, Y/N only managed to catch her breath for one second before she felt herself flipped onto her back. The intrusion of San's large cock was just as seering as the first one but it was welcomed nonetheless by her walls fluttering around his cock. One of her legs was thrown over his shoulder, his brutal pace heightening the build up in her stomach. Her fleshy mound was extremely swollen and had a pinkish red tint to it. Knowing how vulnerable she was, San licked his fingers before taking them out of his mouth only to have them come down on her clit.

"Oh-oh fuck!" Y/N threw her head back on the pillow, eyes shut tight with tears staining the corners of them as she felt slap after slap on her throbbing and pulsating pussy.

"You like that you little whore? Yes you do, you clench around me every time I do this." San smirked when he placed one final blow on her tender flesh that was responsive to any of his touches.

Y/N was starting to see white flashes of light in her vision, unable to hear or feel anything that wasn't the grazing inside her wetness. With whimpered crying, her arms and upper body writhed uncontrollably as San's hips continued jolting up into her, shaky breaths and pants keeping her from forming any coherent words as her juices poured out of her body. Feeling her heat cover him completely, San trailed not far behind her as his cock twitched and his seed painted her insides.

"Ah fuck!"

He jerked himself until he made sure to fill her to the brim, not satisfied until he had spurted out the last drop of cum he had in him to release. When he pulled out of her hole, he let out a groan of accomplishment as the white and milky like secretion seeped out of her hole, some of it glistening against her folds.

"You capturing that well Hyung?" San turned to Hongjoong.

"Oh trust me, it's all coming out beautifully." He answered as he looked at the computer screen, fingers working unbelievably quick to make sure to save the raw video in his files.

Getting up to go clean himself up on the bathroom, San picked up his clothes that were discarded on the floor. Before he could walk out the door, he was about to ask Y/N if she wanted to join him but she was already busying herself by kneeling in front of her boyfriend.

"Aren't you going to get cleaned up?"

Humming softly as she began undoing Hongjoong's belt, Y/N replied with a mischievous smile.

"Maybe later. Right now I gotta take care of my handsome man, after all, he's been sitting here with a hard ass boner." She chuckled as his dick sprang free.

"God, I love you so much baby."

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reigenhusband · 3 years

Text

Psychic Wedding Time!

Art by @/cowboyologist

After months of holding back, we finally tied the ole knot! Me and the conman are officially hitched today September 10, 2021!

This silly little blonde anime man means an awful lot to me and its really more than I can say. These months with him have been a great help.

When I went through some of the roughest things I've ever gone through, I had him to think about for comfort. He is a little part in what keeps me going and I wish I could thank him for everything. He sparks a lot of joy so I think I'm gonna keep him!

I've never been happier and I'm so lucky to call him husband! He's had such a positive impact and I love him so, so much.

Special thank you to my friends and of course our son Mob who carried the rings!

Under the cut is a little fic about getting ready for the wedding. Thanks everyone for your support!

Reigen squinted at his reflection, dark eyes hauntingly focused on a strand of hair that didn't take to the product he put in it. A grunt of dismay rumbled low in his throat.

"Um…Reigen?"

"Just a second, Serizawa. Almost got it."

The taller man's voice wavered but he managed to hold fast and keep his confidence. Reigen could almost hear his hands wringing.

"Er...Well. Its just...you've been staring at yourself for a little over 20 minutes now and you haven't moved and…"

Reigen sucked his teeth and pressed his palm firmly to the side of his head. Damned strand of hair! Slick like the rest of it! Don't you know know day it is?!

"What I mean is..! Are you alright?" Serizawa finally asked, his voice heavy with concern. "Since it's your wedding and all I figured you'd be nervous but you seem really on edge. Is something bothering you?"

The blonde twitched.

"W...what are you talking about? Of course not! I'm calm and-" He stopped abruptly and slammed his hands flat on either side of the mirror, his eyes wide and bloodshot upon inspection of his suit. A fleck of black thread pervaded his white vest and he looked around frantically for the lint roller. "You thought you could hide but you can't best Reigen Arataka." He muttered as he furiously went over his all but pristine wedding attire.

His best man scratched his own cheek nervously and looked on with clear uncertainty. "If you're sure."

Once he was satisfied after a thorough inspection and having Serizawa scrutinize the back, he dropped into a chair. Nearby was a table decorated in what was probably a thousand congratulatory flowers from clients. He exhaled and stared a hole into the arrangement of colors. His heart was pounding. His brow, coupled with his hands, were visibly slick with chilled sweat. His stomach was full of stones.

He met his own gaze in the mirror again. He looked well kept and yet...disheveled at the same time. Come to think of it, his face was flushed the shade of his usual pink tie. The last 3 days without sleep also hollowed out dark circles under his eyes. His shirt collar began to feel more and more constricting as time went on no matter how much he tugged on it.

Maybe he really was scared.

He didn't doubt that he loved Mitty. In fact, he wanted to be with him more than anyone. A case of cold feet wouldn't change that. It was himself he was wrestling with here.

Spirits, monsters, and deadly espers. He'd faced them all and came out on top. But they were nothing compared to these looming expectations to be a person to rely on. This wasn't something he could bullshit his way through. This was marriage. Mitty was going to see the warted underbelly of when he was Reigen the man instead of Reigen the psychic. His fiancé was going to experience sides of him he only revealed when he was alone. Would he still like him even then?

Reigen was good at a lot of things but this had to be the one that counted most. Could he really be a good partner forever?

Was he really going to cut it as a husband?

"Hey, Serizawa?" Reigen asked, not looking at him.

The man's shoulders lurched at his name suddenly being called. He straightened his back. "Oh! Yes sir?"

"Do you think we'll be good together?"

Silence sat heavily for a moment. Every second felt longer than the last.

His friend seemed taken aback by the question but nonetheless looked at the ceiling as though collecting the right words to answer. "Well…"

Another moment passed and Reigen waited with his hands clasped and breath baited.

"I've never been with anyone so I can't say for certain what a good relationship is but," A compassionate smile spread across the esper's face before he continued, visibly more sure of his words. "I think you and Mr. Mitty understand each other. You always seem to know what the other is thinking. You motivate each other to be better and you seem happy when you're together. And...and you trust each other too. And I think that's whats important."

Reigen looked at the velveted floor. "Then…"

"You've become more honest by being with him and he talks like you're really important to him. So please...get married if it makes you both happy! I think you can really be something!" His friend was beaming with

what Reigen could only say was genuine assurance.

"I really believe you'll take care of each other."

His co-worker actually really was resourceful. Maybe someday he ought to pay him more. The uncomfortable feelings waned slightly and his shoulders slowly slacked. Mitty was waiting for him so now wasn't the time to lose it.

After a few seconds of letting his feelings iron themselves out, he stood and smoothed his hands over his suit jacket. "Well alright then. If thats what you think then I guess there's no backing out of this one."

Serizawa pressed his hands together in delight. "YES! I've got your back, Reigen!"

The door into the hallway opened and a set of black eyes peered into the room. "Master, It's starting. Are you coming?"

The jarring announcement had him scrambling to fix the piece of hair he'd been fussing with.

"OF COURSE." He jabbed his thumb into his own chest to feign total confidence. "Right behind you, Mob!"

He held his breath. Alright, let's do this.

Mitty POV

Teal eyes darted around the room carefully.

"Hey...Dimple? You there?"

The whizzing of the spirit materializing buzzed next to his ear.

"Yeah whaddya want? You're on soon, aren't you?"

Mitty jabbed his right hook into the air where the voice was coming from. "AGH WHAT THE HELL?"

A swift flash of green dodged his reach.

"HEY, why are you hitting me?! You asked for ME, remember?" The ghost clucked his tongue in disapproval and floated a few inches away for safety.

"WELL MATERIALIZE WHERE I CAN SEE YOU, YOU BIG BOOGER! I'm on edge!"

"On edge? What for? You're the one who wanted this, right?"

"W..well….yeah, sorry." He looked at his clenched fist and opened it. "...sorry." He said again more thoughtfully this time.

Dimple raised a spectral eyebrow. "Whats wrong? Having second thoughts? I mean it's Reigen so who can blame ya."

Mitty scowled while straightening his tie in the mirror. "Hey! REIGEN'S…." His voice softened closer to a whisper. "A pretty good guy. Get off my case. Aren't you supposed to be my support? You're being kinda harsh!"

"Well kid, something is obviously on your mind so let's hear it. Wedding starts soon right? Yeesh. Once you do all this he's your problem forever."

"I'm not worried about him!! I'm more worried about...me."

"About you? What're you talkin' about?! You're too good for him!"

"Thanks for the flattery. You still can't have my body though."

"Well I didn't want it anyways, ya bastard. You're weak compared to Shigeo. I'm just being honest here!"

Silence.

"So? Out with it, What did you want anyways? You're talking nonsense here!"

Mitty wrinkled his nose in discomfort. "I just needed to ask something. But you can't run your mouth off like you always do, you old gossip. You're like a knitting circle."

"TCH. like I'd blabber your business to someone. It's all so boring."

"Yeah, yeah just listen, alright?!"

Another few seconds passed. "So? Say it. We don't have all day, you know."

He was looking at his hands again like he was somewhere far off. "Well. D...D'you think I'll be good at this?"

"Good at what, exactly?"

"Being married."

Dimple's form rippled with thought. "You're seriously worried about that?"

Mitty was going to make a sharp remark but his head dropped and his face buried into his knuckles. "Yeah."

Dimple deflated slightly in exasperated defeat. Humans could be so ignorant.

"Listen. That fraud never shuts up about you. You think you're not good enough? You should hear him talk. It's annoying how you both don't realize things."

"Realize things?"

He sighed and shrugged his tiny arms. "I hear everything whether you like it or not. You two idiots never stop talking and moaning about the other is too good for the other. It's getting old, really."

"HUH? He says that? No way! But he's always beaten me at everything! I always thought he was way out of my league."

"Kinda the opposite actually but...sure. What I'm saying is…! You're both seeing the best parts of each other. Keep doing that and it'll be smooth sailing."

"Yeah but...what if he stops seeing the best in me?'

"You planning on making things hard?"

"Not really. I just know I can be difficult to deal with."

"So is he. You really think you got this far because Reigen's all roses and sunshine? 'Course not. You've seen all the stuff he does and you still like him, right?"

He certainly was flawed, that was for sure. Mitty spent most of Reigen's antics with his eyes rolled up in his head but that didn't mean he wasn't enjoying the moment either.

"Right."

"Then it's the same for him. Sure it won't always be fun but that phoney won't give up on you just because you're annoying. He's way too persistent. It kind of ticks me off."

I'm annoying??? That stung but he shook it off.

Reigen was going to have to deal with him for the rest of his life once they said the right words. But if Dimple was right...would it be so bad to annoy each other for the rest of their lives if the other was willing to put up with it?

Reigen seemed okay with it so far. Mitty would just have to listen to him make a fuss about his coffee table clutter until he died. But really, he wouldn't have that any other way. His voice was kind of cute when he hit that inhuman octave he had when he was in disbelief.

The door from the hall swung open and a blond clad in what was perhaps the most blinding and loud suit he had ever seen poked his head in.

"Oh, You're still in here? It's bad luck to be late on your wedding day! Master Reigen is waiting. " He cocked his head to the side. "Or did you need some help with your suit? Its looking a little plain."

Hanazawa. This kid would try to accessorize his suit in the worst way possible. He put up his hands to wave him off.

"N-nah, kiddo that's alright. I'll be right there."

Hanazawa, after a few more attempts to get Mitty to let him help retreated back into the hallway. When it was quiet again he eyed Dimple. He was abrasive and unpleasant. He always had a motive for everything and rarely had something nice to say.

But he came through when it mattered.

"Hey Dimple?"

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Thanks."

Dimple wouldn't meet his eyes and levitated towards the hall. He didn't want to acknowledge he was helping, he supposed. It was in character for that tsundere blob.

"You ought to get out of here now if you wanna make it on time."

He stood and dusted himself off.

"Welp. Here goes everything."

#i only have access to mobile so the format for everything is so ugly but HIIII ITS MARRIAGE TIME #i wanna write a fic of the actual wedding or what it entails later.#thanks for letting me be cringe #to any non selfship blogs that might be seeing this i am so sorry #I'll show the rings i had made later!!!#wedding mentions

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do-you-have-a-flag · 2 years

Text

Dracula Daily, 5 May (reread)

Our Good Friend Jonathan assures us that he is not having indigestion related hallucination by listing his entire dinner,

"robber steak"—bits of bacon, onion, and beef, seasoned with red pepper, and strung on sticks and roasted over the fire- SOUNDS DELICIOUS! comparing it to “London cat’s meat” however....... yuck city.

at least he also has some wine from Mediaș, “which produces a queer sting on the tongue, which is, however, not disagreeable.” ohoho, also you can tell how “not disagreeable he finds it because he “had only a couple of glasses of this, and nothing else.”

Jonathan thinking that people are gossiping about him

I must say they were not cheering to me, for amongst them were "Ordog"—Satan, "pokol"—hell, "stregoica"—witch, "vrolok" and "vlkoslak"—both of which mean the same thing, one being Slovak and the other Servian for something that is either were-wolf or vampire. (Mem., I must ask the Count about these superstitions)

HMMM DO YOU THINK MAYBE THEY AREN’T ACTUALLY TALING ABOUT YOU? God the comedy of Count Dracula being asked about these termsfdsgfdsgdf like tee hee idk *twirls undead hair*

anyway, literally everyone warding against the evil eye does not deter him, we get some commentary on the nice countryside and the history of the region, as well as comments on the quaint locals and their funny way of fearfully praying and warding off evil oh how novel

I really love the atmosphere of this eerie night right, it’s all so good but one of my favourite descriptions is: “the only light was the flickering rays of our own lamps, in which the steam from our hard-driven horses rose in a white cloud.”

"There is no carriage here. The Herr is not expected after all. He will now come on to Bukovina, and return to-morrow or the next day; better the next day." Whilst he was speaking the horses began to neigh and snort and plunge wildly, so that the driver had to hold them up. Then, amongst a chorus of screams from the peasants and a universal crossing of themselves, a calèche, with four horses, drove up behind us, overtook us, and drew up beside the coach

this is literally a comedy scene

“They were driven by a tall man, with a long brown beard and a great black hat, which seemed to hide his face from us. I could only see the gleam of a pair of very bright eyes, which seemed red in the lamplight”

i love that this is dracula because impersonating an entire service staff for your guest is, again, a comedic premise

as he spoke he smiled, and the lamplight fell on a hard-looking mouth, with very red lips and sharp-looking teeth, as white as ivory. One of my companions whispered to another the line from Burger's "Lenore":—

"Denn die Todten reiten schnell"— ("For the dead travel fast.")

Jonny boy is this a normal situation? In your mind?

I felt a strange chill, and a lonely feeling came over me; but a cloak was thrown over my shoulders, and a rug across my knees

cosy

the horses so far became quiet that the driver was able to descend and to stand before them. He petted and soothed them, and whispered something in their ears, as I have heard of horse-tamers doing, and with extraordinary effect, for under his caresses they became quite manageable again, though they still trembled.

you COULD interpret this as some form of vampiric hypnotic trance animal management.... but i like to think that Dracula is just a horse girl at heart

Dracula sprinting after the blue flames as they appear will never not remind me of a video game

I saw around us a ring of wolves, with white teeth and lolling red tongues, with long, sinewy limbs and shaggy hair. They were a hundred times more terrible in the grim silence which held them than even when they howled. For myself, I felt a sort of paralysis of fear. It is only when a man feels himself face to face with such horrors that he can understand their true import.

scary doggos

As he swept his long arms, as though brushing aside some impalpable obstacle, the wolves fell back and back further still.

seems normal, love that this is who Jonathan was worried for the safety of what a good lad

The time I waited seemed endless, and I felt doubts and fears crowding upon me. What sort of place had I come to, and among what kind of people? What sort of grim adventure was it on which I had embarked?

me when i show up early and mentally spiral before anyone gets there on if i have the right day/time/place/if anyone else is going to show up

Was this a customary incident in the life of a solicitor's clerk sent out to explain the purchase of a London estate to a foreigner?

no.

Solicitor's clerk! Mina would not like that. Solicitor—for just before leaving London I got word that my examination was successful; and I am now a full-blown solicitor!

incredibly cute moment

and holding out his hand grasped mine with a strength which made me wince, an effect which was not lessened by the fact that it seemed as cold as ice—more like the hand of a dead than a living man.

The strength of the handshake was so much akin to that which I had noticed in the driver, whose face I had not seen, that for a moment I doubted if it were not the same person to whom I was speaking;

Dracula, huffing and puffing, hurriedly putting away his horses and doing a quick-change that would put theatre kids to shame, sprinting to meet Jonathan at the door

“It is late, and my people are not available. Let me see to your comfort myself."

again, a comedy premise

we get more descriptions of food and then the appearance of Dracula and what IS it with describing peoples nostrils in classic lit? i have no immediate associations when it comes to nostril shape!

anyway you cannot convince me from the description that dracula doesn’t look like this

“there were hairs in the centre of the palm.”

[insert jerking off motion here]

“Listen to them—the children of the night. What music they make!"

[shakira voice] AWOOO

I am all in a sea of wonders. I doubt; I fear; I think strange things, which I dare not confess to my own soul. God keep me, if only for the sake of those dear to me!

seems normal

#Dracula Daily #long post

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neon-junkie · 3 years

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White Smoke, Blue Lines

Summary: There are many things that the Jedi Order forbids: Attachments, specifically ones with Clones, and partaking in drugs - both of which you're about to break, when a certain clone helps you obtain the specific herb that you're after.

Pairing: Hardcase x Jedi Reader Reader Description: Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of her appearance.

Warnings: Use of Drugs. Tags: Sharing a joint, Mutual pining, Flirting, Teasing, First time, Making out, First kiss, Shotgun kisses, Smut, Oral (receiving), Dirty talk, Grinding. Word count: 7.3k Notes: Personally, I'd like to think that most of the Jedi love getting blazed as fuck, especially Yoda, that little froggy bong-smoking fucker, but logically, they'd say no to drugs. Either way, I just want to share a joint with Hardcase, so here's the fic for it >:)

"Your girlfriend's heading our way, Hardcase," Jesse prods, slapping his brother's arm to get his attention.

"Hey! Wha- she's not my girlfriend," Hardcase huffs, pushing Jesse back, squabbling whilst still on the landing platform.

"Yeah, but you want her to be," Jesse snickers, and Fives joins in, giggling away as the pair begin to bash their skulls together.

You clear your throat, interrupting the presumably playful banter that is going on between two of the 501st boys. The 501st aren't your battalion, but they sure do feel like it, considering almost all of your missions are paired up with General Skywalker's. You have your own men, and he has his, but there's an unspoken agreement that when working together, they're both of your men, and all the clones are content with that.

That being said, you know each of Skywalker's men by name, ranking, personality and whatnot. You've spent the last few years quite literally by their side, squished together on gunships and cruisers, dragging each other from beneath rubble and fallen clankers, and there's even been a few incidents where they've had to carry your injured self from battle. Nasty memories, but you have the 501st to thank as your saviours.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," you say with a soft laugh, watching as their eyes go wide, locking onto yours. Jesse and Hardcase clear their throats, removing each other from their locked stances, and they straighten their backs as they greet you with a shy "General."

Your gaze turns to Hardcase as you politely ask, "Hardcase, may I have a word alone?"

Jesse begins chewing on his bottom lip in an attempt to mute his laughter, but a few snorts slip through. You've overheard Jesse and many others tease Hardcase for his apparent feelings towards you, and although you haven't sensed too much from him, whatever feelings he may have are mutual. However, war and order comes first, and the likelihood of a Clone dating a Jedi is, well... there is no likelihood. It's forbidden. End of debate.

"Uh, of course," Hardcase nods, and follows you from the landing platform, heading towards the Barracks entrance, but not slipping inside. It's quiet here, minus the few clones passing by, unloading the gunships at their own pace.

Your eyes trail around the perimeter before speaking up, not paying any mind to the clones nearby, but assuring that there are no other Jedi in this vicinity. "Hardcase... uh, I was hoping for your assistance in obtaining something," you begin talking, keeping your voice level just above a whisper.

"W-what can I help you with, General?" Hardcase gulps. His hands flex into fists, bunching up at his sides, and he attempts to mute his thoughts, praying that nothing lewd will spring into his mind... again.

"Call me by my name, please, Hardcase. We're off clock, and when it comes to something like this, I'd rather... forget about the Order," you exhale, your gaze finally meeting Hardcase's wide eyes. Nervousness is radiating from him, and it doesn't help that you're prolonging your question, rattling his anxiety as every second passes.

Hardcase mutters your name with a nod, and states that he's "not quite following."

"Before I ask, I just want to explain that I'm approaching you as a friend, and not as a General-" you mumble, prolonging the question even more.

Hardcase nods, and sighs anxiously when you continue rambling. "-And I am coming to you specifically about this because, well, I am under the assumption that you also partake in such activities."

"Please tell me what you're after already!" Hardcase blurts out. Both of your eyes turn wide at his outburst, and he's about to apologize for letting his emotions control his mouth, but you speak up before he can.

"Do you know any dealers?" you finally ask.

Hardcase pauses, still with the same wide-eyed expression. His brow slowly raise as he thinks that he knows what you're on about, but just to be certain, he asks, "dealers... for?"

"Drugs. Weed, specifically," you sheepishly state. "My last one dipped off the radar, I assume he was arrested, but I-"

"I didn't know you smoke," Hardcase softly laughs, flashing you a lop-sided and extremely cheeky grin. You roll your eyes, followed by playfully punching his upper arm, which only causes Hardcase to laugh even more.

"I'm going to take your answer as a 'yes,'" you state, folding your arms and looking up at the clone, who wears his cheeky smile with pride.

"Yeah, I can sort you out," he nods. "I've been buying off the same guy for a while now, but he's weary of strangers. Maybe I could put a good word in first, or-"

"-You could come with me?" you suggest. "To pick up, I mean. That would certainly ease his anxieties."

"Y-yeah, s-sure," Hardcase gulps. His flushed, vibrant red cheeks are hard not to notice, and you're quickly hit with a thick cloud of flustered energy, radiating from him. You've not spent much time around any of the clones outside of work, minus popping by their quarters to pass on information and whatnot, and that one incident where you ran into them at 79's, but that's as good as it gets.

"I'll meet you outside the front of the barracks at 19:00, but around the corner beside that small diner, just to be safe, if that's alright with you?" You question.

"Y-Yeah," Hardcase stutters again, nodding eagerly at your request. "I'll comm my guy and let him know that we're picking up later. He's not too far from here, just a few blocks away."

"Okay," you sweetly smile. "I'll leave you to it, thank you again!" You say your goodbyes, heading in the direction of the temple to continue your chores for the day, leaving Hardcase on the barracks landing platform.

He pinches himself. That just happened, didn't it? That lovely, sweet, and kind General just approached him to ask about drugs? And she trusts him enough to meet up with him, off the clock, and conduct a deal with him?

The trust. Hardcase could go and rat you out to the Order right now. He could knock on the temple's front door, demand to speak to the manager, and tattle on you for partaking in such illegal activities. But he doesn't - why would he?

Hardcase snaps from his daze as he overhears his name being called, and Jesse and Fives appear in his line of sight. Hardcase huffs, knowing what's in store for him, and begins approaching his brothers. They've already stripped themselves from their upper-armour, relaxing in their blacks, now leaving them defenceless from the upcoming brotherly play fight that will no-doubt happen once their teasing has begun.

"What did the General want?" Fives questions as Hardcase approaches, who decides to continue walking into the Barracks, praying that he can drag them back into their quarters fast enough to prevent their teasing. Rex is always there to break up their bickering, especially when it involves certain comments about certain Generals.

"She just asked me about some stuff, nothing important," Hardcase shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand as he walks.

"That's not what it looked like when we walked past," Fives grins.

Jesse joins in on the smirking. "You both looked flustered, but you especially looked like a Cadet attempting to flirt."

"No, no. It wasn't like that-" Hardcase huffs. He debates telling them the truth, considering that they know and also partake in illicit activities, but is it worth the relentless teasing that he will face? Hardcase already knows his answer, and he already knows that his brothers will find out sooner or later - hopefully later when they catch him sneaking out of the Barracks unaccompanied.

"What was it like then?" Jesse raises a brow.

"S-She..." Hardcase stutters, and exhales heavily. He finally admits to the truth, and ensures that his tone of voice is hushed, not wanting anybody to overhear. "She asked me who to get stuff off, so I told her."

"Stuff?" Fives questions.

"He means..." Jesse explains with a wave of his hand.

"Ooooh!"

There's a pause from both of them, and for a brief moment, Hardcase assumes that that's the end of it. But he is unbelievably wrong.

"Wait- The General, a Jedi, asked you for..." Fives coughs. Both his, and Jesse's expression flicks between confused, concerned, and curious, and the pair keep their ears close to Hardcase as he continues explaining what just happened.

"Yeah," he sheepishly nods. "She basically said that she trusts me, and that I look like the kinda guy who knows where to get that stuff, so I said I'd help her out."

"Help her out how?" Jesse questions.

"Well, uh..." Hardcase stutters, rubbing the back of his neck once more. "You know what Dog is like, he's not too fond of strangers-"

"-Yeah, which is why he wouldn't sell to us at first," Jesse states the obvious, and Fives nods in confirmation.

"-So, uh, she's going to come with me later to pick up," Hardcase innocently shrugs. He bites his bottom lip, attempting to focus on walking down the corridor, rather than watching his brother's reactions. It's coming. Hardcase know's it's coming, and when the wave finally hits, it drowns him.

Fives and Jesse scream, instantly jumping on their brother to begin their playful teasing. "You have a date!" They begin barking at him, riling him up, unfazed by the curious onlookers that pass by. "It's a date, our boy Hardcase has a date!" They cheer, and Hardcase, attempting to mute his laughter, eventually pushes both of them off.

"It's not a date!" He instantly begins denying, only to be playfully shoved between both of them as they protest his protests.

"It's a date, Hardcase. You two are meeting up later for a date," Jesse purrs, wrapping his arm around Hardcase's neck as the trio turn the final corner to approach their quarters.

"What are you gonna wear? Something nice?" Fives questions, knowing that they own little to no personal clothing.

"Make sure you shave your balls, chicks love that," Jesse comments, raising a cheeky brow at his brother.

Hardcase finally shoves Jesse off him as he gags at his bold comment. He remains silent, as flustered as ever, quietly wishing that it is a date, rather than him accompanying you to pick up weed. His gaze turns to the quarters' door, and he quickly punches in the code, ensuring that his flustered expression is blocked from his brothers.

However, the second the door opens, Fives pushes him into the room, and proudly announces, "guess who's getting his dick wet later, boys!"

The torment has only just begun...

--------

Hardcase's pace is faster than usual, weaving his way through the endless sea of people that cover Coruscant. The diner is barely five minutes from the Barracks, but Hardcase is running late due to his brothers pestering him non-stop.

Their teasing was ruthless, exactly what you'd expect from a bunch of men, specifically siblings. Even Rex had joined in on the banter, but reminded his men that this definitely isn't a date as such things are forbidden, not to mention consuming drugs. The talk of his 'date' is not to leave the Barracks, and even when it is spoken about, it must be spoken in hushed tones to prevent by-passers overhearing it through the thick walls.

Hardcase tugs at his shirt again, cursing the smaller fit that he's borrowed off Tup. He's slightly thinner than Hardcase, and it seems that he buys his shirts even smaller to ensure that his best features are on display, pressed against the ironed fabric. Hardcase was originally going to meet up with you in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and his suggestion was met with a sea of tears as every single one of his brothers pushed him to wear something enticing.

"It is a date, after all," Dogma chimed in.

"It's not a date," Hardcase had replied. He had reached the point of auto-pilot, automatically reminding everyone that it's not a date whenever he heard those specific words.

His brothers ignored his declines, and collectively agreed that Hardcase is going on a date, whether he sees it as that, or not. They all helped doll him up; Tup loaned his navy blue shirt, sleeves rolled up at the elbows and the top few buttons undone, exposing his collarbones and teasing his toned pecs. Hardcase insisted that he wears black jeans, making his outfit seem more casual, rather than borrowing Dogma's suit pants.

Hardcase is assuming that he'll be back within half an hour, ready to tell his brothers "I told you so," when they ask why his 'date' didn't last long. He huffs to himself, finally reaching the destination, at to his surprise, you're already stood outside.

"There you are," you state as he appears in your line of vision. Hardcase, for once, manges to control his flustered expression as he locks on to what you're wearing; it's nothing fancy, casual attire, but you and Hardcase could easily be mistaken as a couple out on a date.

"Sorry I took so long," Hardcase sighs. "The boys were..."

"-being themselves?" you answer his statement, and he nods awkwardly in agreement. You playfully roll your eyes, knowing far too well how boisterous and bold his brothers are. "Anyway, lead the way," you gesture, and with that, Hardcase begins leading you on the short journey to his dealer's place.

"He doesn't live far from here," Hardcase reassures you, holding his hands up innocently.

"Good, hopefully he lives close to me," you say with a laugh, not wanting to trail too far.

"You mean... the temple?"

"Oh, no. I decided to get my own little apartment nearby. I needed my own space, the temple can feel over-bearing, and it's nice to... not feel like a Jedi, sometimes," you briefly explain, hoping that Hardcase understands your desire for self-isolation.

"Yeah, I can understand that," he shrugs. "At least you're able to get your own place. That sure would... be something," Hardcase sighs.

A gentle hand rests on Hardcase's forearm as he walks, and you give him a soft squeeze, reassuring him as you comment, "you know that I'm not fond of how the Republic treats clones."

"Yeah, I don't think there's many Jedi out there who are," he agrees. Hardcase exhales heavily, feeling your hand disappear from his forearm, and as he leads you down a side street, he decides to swiftly turn the conversation around. "He's just up here, I'll buzz for him to come down," Hardcase explains, and slips his comm link from his pocket, tapping away on the device.

"You know, I was going to suggest you come back to my apartment and share a joint with me. My way of saying thank you for helping me out," you suggest.

Hardcase almost drops his comm link, catching it before it hits the floor, preventing the device from being carelessly trampled on by his own boots. He lightly coughs, and his gaze meets yours as he replies, "we don't have to, I don't mind. I-I mean, I'm always happy to help out-"

"-Hardcase," you cut his babbling off. "I'd love to have a smoke with you, if you'd like to."

This time, Hardcase can't hide his flustered expressions. His cheeks begin contrasting heavily against his bold, blue tattoos, decorating his warm face; his pupils are wide, both with a mixture of nervousness and lust, and his mouth remains parted, forgetting how to breathe. Hardcase is so fixated on the thought of being around you, sharing a joint with you, going back to your apartment, that he doesn't overhear his name being called out, at first.

Hardcase finally snaps out of his startled state to see his dealer approaching, and heavily clearly his throat before introducing you to Dog. He's your stereotypical dealer, attempting to keep the exchange swift and quiet, and seems fond of you when you purchase a hefty amount of weed, wanting to ensure that you have more than enough to last.

Dog exchanges his comm link number with you before dipping off, ensuring that you can pick up off him any time. "Any friend of Hardcase's, is a friend of mine," he states. Huh, yeah. A friend.

Silence fills the air as you overlook the few grams that you've purchased before slipping it into your pocket, turning your gaze to Hardcase, who has zoned out once more. You raise a brow, and Hardcase suddenly remembers that he never answered your offer. "Y-yeah, we can go and share a joint at yours," he eagerly nods, followed by licking his drying lips.

"C'mon then," you playfully nudge, and begin leading the way to your apartment.

----

The journey home is short, filled with Hardcase's rambling rant about how a few of his brothers irritated him on the last series of missions. You questioned what was on his mind, and not wanting to admit the overwhelming array of emotions that he feels towards you, he decided to fill up the silence with bitching instead. It's a win-win; Hardcase gets to let off some steam, and you get to laugh along and enjoy Hardcase's rambling, something that he does when given the opportunity to.

Hardcase, especially now, sometimes forgets your abilities, and just how prominent they truly are. You know exactly how he feels towards you, and now that you're here, entering your apartment with him, you can forget about both of your statuses the second your apartment door closes. Right now, you're two friends hanging out, sitting on the couch after grabbing a drink for both of you.

Using your weed, Hardcase begins rolling a joint, putting his calloused fingers to work. He pauses his work to take a hefty gulp of his drink, parched from earlier when he felt the life draining from him at the idea of going back to yours. However, now that he's actually here, he feels content; maybe it's because your apartment is so welcoming and cosy, or maybe it's because your general presence often soothes him (when it's not riling him up,) but either way, he's finally comfortable.

You put some background music on, just loud enough to sit comfortably in your ears, and Hardcase announces that he's finished rolling. "Beautiful, isn't she?" he playfully states, holding the pristine joint up to your vision.

"Of course, she is. She's your creation," you smile. Hardcase flashes you a playful, puppy-like grin at your compliment, and you laugh at his warm expression. "Spark up," you state, and leave your seat to go and open some windows.

The joint is lit when you return, and your eyes lock onto the thick smoke flocking from Hardcase's lips as you take your seat beside him. "Here," he mutters, passing you the joint. Hardcase lubricates his mouth as you occupy yourself, smoking at your own pace, and the poor man almost spits water on you when he turns to see you exhaling, the cloud of smoke slowly trickling from your lips.

"What?" you question.

"N-Nothing," Hardcase coughs, attempting to clear his throat. "Went down the wrong way," he explains, and you pretend to understand his response. Your Jedi senses picked up the overwhelming attraction Hardcase felt when he locked his sights onto you smoking; you understand the attraction to the act of smoking, but never have you considered that somebody could feel such a way towards you.

That knowledge settles in the back of your mind, ready to be picked up on later on, hopefully when you've attained more confidence and relaxed even more. "Your turn," you state as you pass the joint back, your fingertips brushing against Hardcase's as he takes it from you.

Minutes pass as you two continue sharing the single joint, eventually being stubbed out in your ashtray. "How're you feeling?" Hardcase questions as he relaxes back on your couch, finding comfort in your variety of pillows.

"Good," you confirm with a nod. "I completely forgot to ask him what strain of weed this is," you sigh, coming to terms with the fact that you're going into this high blind.

Hardcase picks up the bag of weed on your coffee table, and looks it over before laughing to himself. You raise a brow, and he explains, "I don't know why I'm looking it over. It's not like I can tell."

You chuckle with him, already beginning to feel the swift effects of the mystery strain. Your hand runs through your hair, sweeping a few strands back off your face, and when you look up from the floor, your eyes instantly feel heavy. "Kriff," you curse.

"Good stuff?" Hardcase questions with a light laugh, melting into your couch. You turn to gaze at him, instantly noticing his lopsided smile; a deep red colour appears on his cheeks, and you dread to think what thoughts must be running through his mind if he's blushing at you.

"Yeah, good stuff," you confirm with a nod. Shuffling back onto the couch more, you get comfortable, tucking your legs against the pillows.

"You wanna stretch your legs out?" Hardcase questions, patting his toned thighs, maybe a little too eagerly.

You nod, and prop your legs up on Hardcase's lap, who instantly rests his forearms on top of them. He hands begin playing with the fabric of your pants, fiddling mindlessly, trailing his calloused fingertips up and down your shins. You chuckle at the image, seeing some of yourself in him; Hardcase overhears your laughter, and raises as a brow as he smiles and asks, "what?"

"You're a fidgeter too, huh?" you state.

Hardcase grins as he shakes his head, looking like a happy puppy. "Yeah," he confirms. "I've been told that back on Kamino, my growth chamber leaked. That's why I can never sit still," he shrugs, and adds, "not that I mind."

"I like that," you smile. "I love seeing how different all you clones are. Makes me forget that you're actually clones."

"Yeah, me too," Hardcase sighs. He looks away for a brief moment, silently reminding himself about the situation that he's currently in. As of right now, he's content and calm, enjoying a joint with a Jedi - an odd scenario, but Hardcase is fond of oddities. However, come tomorrow, he'll be back on the field, wiping out clankers with his chaingun; at least he can enjoy this moment before it passes.

"Fancy another?" Hardcase questions as he turns back to you, and smirks as he adds, "if you can handle it."

"Of course, I can handle it. You don't have to baby me," you scoff. "Maybe I should baby you instead, seeing as you're almost falling asleep on my couch," gesturing to Hardcase's extremely cosy state.

"No, I'm not," Hardcase scoffs in return, sitting upright instantly. "Your couch is comfortable," he innocently shrugs, and begins rolling another joint once you've moved your legs off his lap. "And how would you baby me, huh?"

A large, bright, and interesting lightbulb lights up in your mind; you've wanted to break the thick, tense ice between you two for so long, but given the circumstances, you've never been able to. Now is your chance!

"I'll show you how to properly smoke," you flirtatiously smirk.

Hardcase raises a brow as he meets your gaze, and he rolls his eyes at your remark. "I know how to smoke, sweetheart," he sighs, the pet name escaping without him realising. "But go on, let's see what you've got."

"Alright," you nod.

Hardcase rushes to roll the second joint, soon revealing a slightly crinkled joint, but that doesn't make it not smokeable. Rather than lighting it, he passes it to you instead, and watched curiously as you begin sparking up, puffing on the end to get the good stuff flowing. You eventually begin exhaling thick clouds of smoke, blowing them from your vision.

"Ready?" you question, and Hardcase eagerly nods, attempting to bite back on his laughter. He's so smug, certain that there's no way you can smoke better than him, and his smug expression remains as you intake an average amount.

Holding the smoke between your closed lips, you shuffle closer to Hardcase, pressing your thighs together, your shoulders tapping against each other before Hardcase turns his upper body to peer down at you. Your eyes meet his, and since your mouth is occupied and unable to instruct him, you resort to moving him into position.

You lightly grab his chin, and Hardcase follows your movement as you bring his lips towards yours. Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and Hardcase understands what you're signalling for. His lips part slightly, just enough for you to press your lips against his and blow the smoke into his mouth.

Hardcase shudders, and takes his time moving away from your lips to eventually blow out his share of the smoke. A sigh follows behind his exhale, and when he finally turns back to look at you, his eyes are half-lidded, but open enough to show his wide, lustful pupils, decorated by his amber irises.

"Good?" you simply question.

A cheeky grin covers Hardcase's lips as he nods eagerly, but it slips away as fast as it appeared, and he pouts as he replies. "I don't think I got much smoke, you'll have to try again."

You giggle, and Hardcase joins in, almost patting himself on the back for his boldly flirtatious comment. "Alright," you agree. The joint is pressed to your lips again, and you inhale heavily, holding the smoke in your mouth as you signal for Hardcase to get into position. He's cheekily grinning as he parts his lips, pressing them lightly to yours, and his eyes flutter shut as you begin blowing smoke into his mouth.

Hardcase can't help but swiftly kiss you before pulling away, turning his head in the other direction to exhale the smoke. He's grinning again as he turns back to you, his tattoos slowly turning purple as his cheeks begin turning up. "My turn," he chuckles, and takes the joint from your grasp.

Hardcase repeats your fluid movements, and he's now plucked up the courage to hold your jawline in the palm of his hand as he dips his head down to kiss you. This is definitely a kiss with smoke trailing between your lips; you don't even bother inhaling, watching through slowly-shutting eyes as the smoke disappears between kisses, fanning out into the room.

The smoke soon leaves, and you're still locking lips with Hardcase, feeling the faint, light stubble of his facial hair on your upper lip. His soft kisses quickly become firmer, desperate, hungry, and the hand that was once on your jaw slides up to entwine in your hair. You're not sure if Hardcase is a naturally good kisser, or if the weed in your system is making you more sensitive than usual, a burn forming between your thighs as the kiss deepens once more.

Boldly, you break the kiss and pluck the joint from between Hardcase's fingers, stubbing it out in your ashtray. He watches through half-lidded eyes as you straddle him, your knees resting on either side of his hips, introducing your crotch to his growing erection. He's still smirking, and his smile remains as he pulls you down to kiss him once more, this time with added mewls and moans, escaping whenever your lips slightly part.

"Hardcase?" you call out between kisses, and Hardcase lets out a softly grunted, "huh?" when you call his name.

"I wanna know something," you continue, your tone of voice thick with lust.

"Oh yeah? What?" Hardcase raises a brow, breaking the kiss so he can gaze up at you with his slightly red eyes.

"Do your tattoos cover all of your body?" you question, and instantly, Hardcase begins chuckling at your words.

"Why don't you find out for yourself, sweetheart?" he invites you in. You lick your lips as your hands move from his shoulders, finding the buttons on his shirt, and at an agonizingly slow pace, you begin unfastening each of them. Hardcase almost rips the shirt off once it's finally unfastened, discarding it on the other side of your couch, revealing his delicious form.

Hardcase is a meal of a man, toned from years of work and fighting. His tanned skin looks lush, contrasting against his blue tattoos that continue over his chest and arms, disappearing into the waistband of his pants. Your hands begin trailing over each line, admiring the flawless line work; they hook around the waistband of his pants, and your eyes meet Hardcase's as you continue talking.

"Can I take these off?" you question.

Hardcase playfully tuts as his hands find your waist, kneading at the fabric of your shirt. "Not until this comes off. Fair's fair, right?"

"Of course," you agree with a nod. This time, Hardcase is the one gawking over his form once your top comes off; his hands follow the flow of your body, every dip and crevice, every curve and bump. Just when he thinks this day couldn't get any better, you smile as you reach your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it slip down over your shoulders.

Hardcase's face literally lights up, grinning playfully as he moves his hands up to cup your breasts. "Mesh'laaaa," he slurs his words, followed by mumbling a series of phrases in Mando'a, and you can only assume that from his given expression, they're all words of affection. Hardcase, whilst still smiling, dips his head down to latch his mouth onto a nipple, flicking his tongue over the bud and sucking gently. He kisses along your chest when switching between each nipple, and rolls his hips as a way of encouraging you to get closer.

Slowly and softly, you begin rutting your hips, grinding down against his growing erection. Hardcase begins letting out the softest of moans, sucking on your nipples more firmly, his hands tightening their grip around your waist. "Karking hell," Hardcase grunts, moving his lips from your breasts to look up at you. "These have got to come off, please?" he both asks and suggests.

You swiftly nod, shuffling off Hardcase's lap. You undo your pants, shimmying them down to your ankles, and step out of them, leaving you almost bare. Hardcase goes to reach out, to grab you once again, but you tut and offer him your hand instead. "Are you coming?" you offer, and Hardcase swiftly grabs your hand before you can even finish your question.

You begin leading him towards your bedroom, your hand slipping from his as Hardcase shuffles out of his pants. He almost trips over his pants legs as he kicks them off, leaving them in a jumbled pile on the floor. His tattoos do continue even lower, partially hidden under his boxers, but you'll soon see for yourself.

You sit on the edge of the bed, offering your hand out once more to drag Hardcase on with you, but he rejects your offer. Whilst shaking his head, Hardcase settles onto his knees, his hands finding your thighs as he hungrily spreads them apart. Oh. He groans at the sight of your spread legs, despite still having panties on; you're uncertain if it's the weed effects taking place, or if Hardcase really is working this fast, but he rushes to kiss down both of your thighs, stopping just before your cunt and moving cheekily onto the other one. He's teasing you, but it's clear that his patience is running thin.

Hardcase groans as he finally licks a firm stripe over your clothed cunt, faintly tasting your slick through the thin fabric. He repeats the motion a few more times, teasing himself more than you, and swiftly decides that he needs your underwear off. Now. They're quickly removed, tossed onto the floor that he's settled on, and once again, Hardcase is the one groaning as he finally begins lapping at your folds.

Everything feels so rushed, your head spinning ever so slightly as you lie back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling between your fluttering lashes. Hardcase is a messy eater, unfazed by the sounds of wetness and slurping, lapping at your cunt like a starving man. He flicks between a series of motions, but always ensures that when he sucks your clit, he does it hard, chuckling to himself as you begin squirming on the bed from his actions.

"So karking good," Hardcase mumbles against you. "I can't believe I've finally got my head between your thighs," he groans, and slips his tongue into your entrance, tongue-fucking you a few times before deciding that you deserve something firmer to fill you up. You're unbelievably soaked, more than slick enough to fit two of Hardcase's thick fingers, pushing them slowly until he reaches his knuckles.

With his lips around your clit, Hardcase begins pumping his fingers, curling them to ensure that they brush against your g-spot with every thrust. You don't even realise that he's shaking at first, until you prop yourself up onto your elbows to notice that his other hand is moving rapidly. Hardcase has managed to free his cock, pumping it in time with his thrusting fingers.

His cock is gorgeous, girthy with a blue stripe running down the middle. Hardcase notices you staring and raises a playful brow, only for his expression to turn into concern as you smirk maliciously. Without saying a word, you raise your hand, and use your special abilities to begin jerking Hardcase's cock for him. He's forced to move his lips off your cunt, letting out a heavy groan as you begin jerking his cock.

"Karking hell!" Hardcase yelps, moaning hungrily as you pump his length. "I always forget you have those abilities," he chuckles, and returns to eating your pussy. Despite being occupied, his own words sink into his mind even deeper - you're a Jedi. He's hooking up with a Jedi. Hardcase is the lucky Clone who gets to enjoy seeing what else you can do with your Jedi powers. Kriff.

You sense the realisation from Hardcase, his thoughts barely clouded from the smoke that's still lingering in his system. You've become swiftly adjusted to the sensation of being high, but now that those thoughts are present, you realise how utterly blazed you are. Your head is, thankfully, no longer spinning, but your eyes are half-lidded, and you're almost constantly grinning, giving away your dazed state. Hardcase is the same, finally relaxing as smugness takes over, proud of himself for achieving such an unimaginable goal.

"Ughh," Hardcase grumbles against your folds. "Taste so good, you feel so good around my cock too! Well, I mean your... uh, the force feels good?" Hardcase stutters, raising a brow as he attempts to explain the new sensations washing over him.

"Why don't you come up here, and find out how good I feel around your cock?" you flirt.

Hardcase grins, scrambling up to his feet. He shuffles up onto the bed, toned arms resting on either side of your head, pinning you beneath him. Your juices are all over his chin, his blue tattoos glistening whenever the street lights through your bedroom window hit his face at the right angle. With a laugh, you clean him up, and the second you're done, he dips his head down to crash his lips against yours.

Your hands trail over his shoulders, admiring how toned and defined he is. Hardcase is softly mewling between kisses, expressing his hunger and desperation for you. He begins grinding his solid length against your folds, slicking himself up, but teasing himself more than he's teasing you. Either he's naturally sensitive, or the weed has cranked his sensitivity levels up tenfold.

Hardcase begins angling his hips, attempting to catch your pussy at the right angle and push his cock in; he breaks the kiss in order to concentrate, refusing to give up on his desires. Eventually, Hardcase manages, and lets out a heavy moan as he finally pushes himself into your tight cunt.

"Heh, no hands," Hardcase chuckles once he's fully sheathed. He holds himself there, and you're uncertain if it's because he's letting you adjust to his size, or because he needs a moment to collect himself. Both, possibly? Given his calming expression.

You swiftly grow impatient, and lock onto his gaze as you groan, "Hardcase, move."

"Yes, General," Hardcase cheekily replies, and you roll your eyes at his audacity.

But that playfully frustrated expression on your face is quickly wiped away, your brows turning upwards, and your mouth parting as Hardcase begins thrusting himself deep into you. He's girthy, stretching your walls with every thrust, filling you up with no room to spare. Hardcase seems to be moaning than you are, possibly, it's hard to tell, given your stoned state, and the fact that you're moaning just as loud.

Hardcase's thrusts are delicious, firm and fast, slowly bruising your inner thighs; you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles crossing over, and lightly grind your heel into his lower back as a way of spurring him on. Hardcase chuckles, and comments, "needy thing," before following your order and slamming into you even harder.

You're moaning way too loud, certain that you'll receive a noise complaint tomorrow. Whatever. You remind yourself that you don't care, that you need this, that you've been pining after this Clone for way too long. He's not letting you down, he never has, despite not being in your ranks. No doubt, you'll spend the next few days walking funny, receiving concerned expressions from Jedi and Clones alike; it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together, since Hardcase will definitely be walking with a limp.

Hardcase dips his head down, leaving purple marks along your collarbone. He's muttering between kisses, barely audible through his heavy breaths as he continues slamming into you. "C-Can't believe we're doing this," he grunts. "Been after you for so long, so kriffing long. You have no idea!"

You let out a soft laugh, "you don't exactly keep your feelings hidden."

Hardcase's cock comes to a halt, twitching deep inside you. He props himself up on his forearms, peering down at you as he asks, "you knew?"

"Everybody knows," you chuckle. You pull his head down for a kiss, reassuring him that the feelings are mutual. "Wouldn't be here if I didn't feel the same," you mutter against his lips.

Hardcase breaks the kiss, raising a brow as he jokingly replies, "you wouldn't be here? But this is your apartment-"

His words are cut off as you let out a laugh, and Hardcase laughs along with you, soon returning his lips to yours. He has you pinned perfectly to the bed, his hips rolling ever so slightly as he introduces his tongue to yours, swallowing down your moans whenever the kiss briefly breaks.

As Hardcase pulls away from the kiss, he slips his cock from your slickness, and lets out a grunt as he pushes himself up onto his knees. He eagerly pats the bed as he orders, "on your hands and knees, sweetheart."

Whilst smirking at him, you shuffle into the new position, peering over your shoulder once ready. Hardcase licks his lips at the sight, his large hands kneading as your ass, enjoying everything you have to offer. He spends a few moments simply playing with your ass, one hand moving from the mound of flesh to run his thumb over your folds, finding your clit and grinding over it.

"Hardcase," you mutter.

"I know, I know," he chuckles as he moves his hands away, lining himself up. "Hard not to do that, you just look so good," he grunts, and finally begins pushing into you again.

A firm pair of hands find your hips, wrapping around them, holding you tightly. Hardcase jumps back into his rushed pace, eager to feel your walls fluttering around his cock once more. His whines and moans start up again, matching your own, the sound of skin against skin echoes around the room.

Hardcase begins muttering sweet praise, "sweet girl, my perfect girl, so karking tight around me-" he lets out a grunt. "Kriff, I'm not gonna last long, babe," Hardcase informs you.

You reach down between your thighs, fingertips about to touch your clit, but Hardcase chuckles as he redirects your hands. "Here, let me," he says with a smile. Hardcase wraps his large palm around both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back, your head dropping onto the duvet. His other hand slips beneath you, firm fingertips begin rubbing eagerly at your clit.

Needless to say, Hardcase has a lot on his plate, and his thrusts become somewhat sloppy, but more than enough to get you off. "Come on, girl, cum on this cock," Hardcase instructs through gritted teeth. His cock begins twitching inside you, an orgasm sitting on the edge, but like the gentleman that he is, he waits for you to hit peak first.

You cry out his name, part of your words muffled from your face being smothered against the duvet. Your orgasm finally hits, your walls clenching tightly around Hardcase's thick length. He grunts, and swiftly removes his hands from you, rushing to pull out his length. His release lands on your back, grunting and sighing heavily as he paints you white.

"Kriff, oh, babe," Hardcase sighs, jerking his length slowly to push his final drops of cum onto your bare body. "Wait here," he mutters, and rushes to climb off the bed. Hardcase almost trips over his own feet, his legs turning into jelly in his post-orgasm phase, along with whatever weed is still pumping throughout his body.

Hardcase returns moments later with a damp towel, and cleans you up whilst humming playfully. He lands a light slap on your rear as he announces, "done!"

You roll onto your back, star fishing on your bed; your chest is rising and falling heavily, matching Hardcase's deep breaths, who joins you on the bed after tidying himself up. He's slightly sweaty from his workout, but still wears that usual cheeky grip as he props himself up on his elbow, lying on his side, looking down at you.

"Did you have fun?" Hardcase asks, the audacity.

You roll your eyes, laughing lightly as your hand moves up to wrap around his neck. "Come here, you," you flirt, and pull him down into a tender kiss, reassuring him that you definitely had fun.

Hardcase's hand finds your waist, fingertips running along your skin whilst he shares a tender moment with you. The kiss isn't rushed and heated like earlier, but soft and loving, warming your chest, and sending shivers along your skin. As it breaks, Hardcase flashes you a grin, then kisses the tip of your nose before falling back on your pillows.

"C'mere," he mutters, waving his hand. You follow his lead, settling in the curve of his neck, sprawling yourself over him whilst still regaining your breath. There's silence for a while, a welcoming silence, shared between two people who have finally broken the ice. Hardcase eventually fills up the silence as he asks, "you'll let me take you out for dinner some time, won't you?"

You move your head off his chest, peering up to see his warm brown pleading eyes, his bottom lip slightly sticking out. "Yeah, of course, I will," you agree with a sweet smile.

Hardcase hums happily as he places a tender kiss on your forehead, his hand moving up to direct your head back onto his chest. Neither of you say anything after that, content with the silence that once again fills the room, later complimented by light snores as you both drift off to sleep.

#drugs tw #weed tw #swwriting #tcwwriting #white smoke blue lines #clone trooper hardcase #hardcase x reader #female reader #nsft #smut #the clone wars #star wars #hardcase x you #tcw #f!reader #clone hardcase x reader

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aro-is-gay-af · 3 years

Text

The Midnight of Despair | Volturi Kings x fem!reader | Part 2

Part 1 | Part 3

I advise you to read it first, as this post is the continuation.

Yeah, there will be Part 3 for sure. As usual, sorry for gramatical confusion and/or any mistakes.

Love you all, thank you for 100 (!) notes under Part 1.

Warnings: Rape, Depression, PTSD, Swear words, Forced Pregnancy

Word count: 6768

Summary: [Y/N] and Bella are childhood friends. They were always there for each other. [Y/N] had tough times and struggles with everyday life. Bella faces depression after Edward had left her. [Y/N] tries to get her going and alive. One day [Y/N] is raped and gets pregnant with the rapist. Not long after that it turns out that Edward got himself into the mess with Volturi. [Y/N], even traumatized and in pieces, will not let Bella go without her supervision to Italy. What is going to happen when [Y/N] will stay at Volterra? Is she really predestined to be Kings’ mate? Is she going to have her baby or abort the pregnancy? Will the trauma go away or is she going to struggle for a long time?

ENJOY!

You tried not to break your eye contact with Aro, as it made you unusually calm and on place. As soon as you walked through the door to the throne room you felt almost like at home. You knew it would take some time to get used to the new place, especially a place like this, though, you didn't find it repulsive or frightening.

You sat down in the chair that Aro had pulled out for you. It was a little gesture but it made you a little less weirded out. Now, that you were alone with three kings, you were not as relaxed as you might have thought you’ll be, for your legs were trembling with exertion.

It wasn’t a surprise, though. You’ve barely eaten, been up on your feet since you got off the plane and through all day long, you were strongly convinced it was your last day on Earth. On top of this, you’ve just allowed Aro to touch your hand and then kiss it. You were certain that if it was for any other person, you wouldn’t be so willing to do so.

Aro took a seat opposite to you, whereas Marcus and Caius sat, probably, on their usual seats, not that far from you both. You were tired, but confident that some things needed to be established as soon as possible. You understood this perfectly. Also, even though Alice told you about basic things, you still were oblivious to most information.

“You have impressed me with your declaration” it was Caius who started the conversation. You looked directly at him.

“I’m not stupid, nor suicidal” you said, trying to remain as calm as possible. “At least, not anymore” you admitted, your upset tone impossible to miss. Caius tilted his head, eyeing you carefully.

“While on the plane, Alice told me briefly about basics,” you said. Seeing their stares, you rolled your eyes. “Yes, she also explained to me the laws. I knew this trip would’ve only two possible endings for me.”

Aro had known about this prior, but Marcus and Caius looked taken aback, to say at least.

“You knew you’d probably die and still came here?” it was Marcus who asked. It was a weird experience, even if you’d known him only for a few moments, to see such an authentic interest in his behaviour.

You nodded and smiled.

“Sure I did. Bella’s stupid ass didn’t give me another choice” you chuckled. Caius smiled again with that creepy smile, which he also had on his face while in the throne room.

“Stop that, brother” Aro scolded him lightly. “We don’t want to frighten [Y/N].”

Caius only rolled his eyes.

“You are familiar with the fact that I am as old as you, brother?” he asked Aro mockingly, sprawling comfortably in his chair. “There’s no need to scold me like I’m a child.”

Aro frowned.

“Yes, brother, I am certainly familiar with this. But nonetheless, you should be more gentle when it comes to [Y/N].”

Even though you’d been tired, somehow kings’ presence had risen your spirits. Also, it was quite funny to see them mock themselves like this.

“Can I say something?” you asked, visibly amused by their behaviour. You've relaxed a little and only then you felt how tired you really were.

“Of course, cara” said Marcus, who didn’t exactly talk much until now. All of them were looking at you, curious about what you wanted to say.

You smiled shyly, not being accustomed to receive so much attention at once.

“I don’t know if it’s normal but I’m not exactly…afraid of you? I guess I’m mostly curious. I wasn’t… concerned while we were heading here. Like, at all” you admitted, trying your best to find words, which would suit your emotions.

Three of them were listening very carefully, even Aro, who had already known your thoughts.

“Alice wasn’t trying to scare me, but I felt that she was extremely cautious when it came to your coven. Bella also was exaggerating with drama and I…” you immediately felt sick and couldn’t end the sentence. You were happy to maybe die? You were happy to have something to think about, other than rape? To think about something different than this unwanted child?

It was as they felt the change in your mood. You saw Aro wanted to touch you but restrained himself from doing so. Marcus’s expression was calm but you actually thought, he was being beyond emotional about this. And Caius…he looked genuinely concerned.

You smiled sadly, as none of them said anything.

“I’m not exactly aware of how this mating bond thing works, but that’s probably the reason” you said quietly, with insecurity so overwhelming that you couldn’t look at the kings anymore. Instead, you embraced your knees with yours arms and glanced at your feet resting on the edge of your chair.

You tried hard not to cry. You weren’t weak, you weren’t unstable. You were harmed in the most brutal way and you knew, it would take you a while to get out of this state of mind. Nevertheless, you didn’t want them to consider you weak or unworthy of their attention. Right now, they were the only ones you had in this world.

Your throat tightened and your lips trembled from the sob you denied yourself to make. One of them handed you a handkerchief, while making an effort not to touch you. You glanced up, as it turned out, at Marcus, who was holding the handkerchief in front of you.

“It is perfectly alright to cry, cara. You have no idea how many times I wished to shed at least one tear” he said, while you were wiping away yours. You believed him, of course. When you were in the throne room, at first Marcus looked completely lifeless and depressed. It changed after he spotted you, but you knew his behaviour didn’t come out of nowhere.

You’ve managed to calm yourself a little bit. After you regained your composure, Aro smiled gently at you, making you give him your full attention.

“My dear, we would be delighted to explain to you everything, but I can clearly see that you are extremely tired. So much has happened today, and the best way we can handle this, is when you are well rested. May I suggest coming back to the topic without any more delay, when you’ve had enough sleep?”

You smiled because of his intricate wording.

“Sure. Although, there’s no need for you to talk to me this way” you said amused, while also trying not to sound rude. The way Aro expressed his thoughts was extremely distinguished and you understood that this was part of his personality that he had acquired over three millennia.

Caius smiled to himself hearing your remark and Marcus didn't hide his amusement either. Even Aro seemed mildly entertained.

“Forgive me, cara mia” he said apologetically, mischievous tone of his voice never escaping your attention. “I am quite old by now” his remark made Caius laugh loudly. You laughed too.

“I don’t think your age matters in this case” you said, your spirits raised just a little bit.

***

After your brief conversation, it was Marcus who showed you to your room. Well, it wasn’t exactly a room, as you had all suite to yourself. As soon as you saw it, you decided that it was really too much, that a bed would suffice, but fell silent after Marcus explained, why you needed to be isolated from others.

You almost forgot they were vampires and you could die if you walked into the wrong one. You shared your concerns with Marcus, who was extremely amused to hear about them. Only the most trusted members of the guard knew of the whereabouts of your chamber. The lower ranks didn't even know that you were staying in the castle for an extended period of time.

Marcus assured that overnight the kings would consider, who would be the most qualified to become your personal guardian. You were a bit embarrassed, as you seemed to be creating quite a problem with your presence in the castle. Nonetheless, you thanked Marcus, making sure beforehand that you would definitely see the three of them, as soon as you got some sleep.

Your chamber was huge. You could’ve sworn it was twice the size of the house you owned in Forks. You had your own bathroom, walk-in-closet and even a small kitchenette with a fridge. The star of the room was the massive bed with a mattress so soft, you felt like you were lying on a cloud. Before you went to bed, you decided to have a bath, because it would be silly to sleep in such a bed while being dirty.

While searching for pyjamas, you realised there were not many clothes in the wardrobe. Could this have been a guest room? You concluded that it was very likely. Anyway, you had nothing against guest rooms which looked like this. You found a thin-strapped, ankle-length nightdress, in a fabric so pleasant that it was impossible to resist wearing it.

The bathroom was ridiculously large, with two sinks to the left of the entrance, a huge bathtub in the middle and a shower that was built into, what you assumed, was a marble wall. On the opposite side of the entrance there was a vanity, with all kinds of beauty products and perfumes. You also didn't expect the bathroom to be in bright colours, and yet, the walls and floor were white marble, whereas all other elements were golden. You didn't even want to think about the fact that indeed, you had real gold faucets to your exclusive use.

You continued to think about the fact that it seemed too much. The lavishness overwhelmed you and, at the same time, distracted you from unpleasant thoughts. The washing up part, as always, was difficult for you. You tried not to look in the mirror at all. Eventually, you decided you didn't have the energy to try a bath, so you went for a quick shower.

It wasn't until you were in the shower, before you truly felt tired. You doubted it was an evening, but you felt like you'd just done a double shift at the hospital. It felt wonderful to have your hair washed, only to cuddle up later in an incredibly soft towel.

While changing into your nightgown, you didn't even glance in the mirror. You were unable to look at your naked body in the reflection. You were afraid, even though the bruises and wounds had long been healed.

Climbing onto the bed, you tried not to think too much. You didn't want to think about what you were going to do with the baby. You didn't want to think about the fact that you would probably have to explain to Caius and Marcus, why you were pregnant in the first place. You also didn't want to think about Aro seeing those memories. You were glad that you could fall asleep and, at least for a little while, be relieved of the burden of reality.

***

“Alright. What is there that we need to discuss?” you asked, trying to focus. You were back in the study with the round table, except that there were many more papers and books on it than the day before.

It was the strangest morning of your life. According to what Aro told you, you slept for about fifteen hours. He was by your side when you woke up, but not in such manner as to startle you in any way. He came to ask how you were feeling and what you felt like eating for breakfast. You thought that with a kitchenette in your room you would be preparing your own meals. You were very much mistaken. When you said that you would like to eat scrambled eggs, Aro only smiled and told you to get dressed.

You didn't have time to ask what you were supposed to wear since the walk-in-closet was almost empty, but he had already disappeared. It turned out that you were wrong again. In those fifteen hours, someone had managed to restock your wardrobe at least halfway. You were too surprised to look at everything, but you had never seen such expensive and well-tailored clothes. You picked out the first pieces you were sure, you would feel comfortable in.

After a quick shower, you dressed up and when you came out of bathroom, Aro was already waiting for you. He brought you your meal and while you were eating, he would talk to you about things that were of minor importance. It was hard not to notice that he was in a great mood and you had to admit that you were sharing his optimism. He waited patiently for you to end your meal so that both of you could join Marcus and Caius in the study. If your human memory didn't fail you, a great number of issues had to be discussed.

You smiled, seeing so many papers and books on the wooden table. Caius and Marcus were sitting in the exact same places as yesterday.

“You should’ve wake me sooner, you know. I never sleep this much” you said, also sitting in the same place you were assigned the evening before. Aro sat in the chair on your right.

“You should sleep as long as you feel like it, dolcezza,” said Caius, focusing all his attention on you. You blushed a little. You weren’t used to being in the centre of attention. It didn't make you uncomfortable before, but after what happened... It was going to take some time before you could fully recover.

“Caius is right. You should get plenty of sleep, my dear. If there’s no need to wake you up, we simply will not do it,” said Aro, whose smile has not left his face even for a moment.

When Marcus had finished whatever he was doing, you could finally move on to the conversation between the four of you. You thought that Aro will lead the conversation but, apparently, you were really going to discuss this together.

“I gathered you were a nurse before. You also worked with Carlisle,” started Aro, getting straight to the point. You nodded your head in agreement.

“Yes. I worked on Paediatric Intensive Care Unit but hospital in Forks is so small that I usually ended up also helping Carlisle with many things” you admitted, trying to divide your attention between three of them. If you were to stay a human for a little while, you needed to work on that. It was rather problematic to look at them all at once.

“We became friends when Bella started seeing Edward, but then the whole moving out thing came up and right now, I don't really know if I know Carlisle as well as I thought I did,” you said, without a trace of regret in your voice. Aro knew very well that you had a grudge against the doctor. Sure, Edward had left Bella, but you were sure Carlisle would have at least told you about the promotion. Now you knew it wasn't about that at all, and yet the grudge continued.

Aro smiled lightly, but you saw a glint of sadness in his eye.

“After you transformation I will be pleased to invite here my old friend Carlisle along with his family. I hope everything will work out fine between the two of you” he said with hope in his voice. You had no idea that Carlisle new Aro to the extent that he called him an old friend. You promised yourself to talk about this with Aro while in private.

“I’m…a bit concerned about this, actually” you said anxiously. “I know I need to become a vampire one day, but…” You never ended the sentence. Were you afraid of pain? No, certainly not. However, you wanted to begin with knowing your mates just a little bit more. You wanted to know more about this world you were supposed to spend eternity in.

“It’s perfectly alright to be afraid, [Y/N]” said Marcus, leaning closer to you. You felt stupid and young.

“I don’t think I’m afraid. I’m only…uncertain, because I know close to nothing about your lifestyle and I’m not sure I’m quite ready to experience it,” you tried to explain, as best as you could. Aro was a little bit ahead of Caius and Marcus, as he saw at least parts of such thoughts in your mind. Caius was the one to answer you.

“It understandable, [Y/N]. While you’ll be spending time with us, we’re going to explain everything to you. One step at a time, as my dear brother said earlier. And tell me, how do you like your chambers?” he asked, clearly curious about your opinion. You smiled, but it was a shy one.

“I love it, really, but, as I asked Aro earlier, isn’t it too much?” you suggested, trying not to offend him. Aro and Marcus smiled softly, Caius snorted.

“Nonsense, cara. With us, you'll have the very best of all worlds” he assured you.

“In that case, thank you, all of it is truly wonderful, although I feel a little awkward.”

Again, all three just laughed, but it wasn’t impolite in one bit. Aro put a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“My dear, no need for you to fret about such things as money. The most important person to us is you and we will give you whatever you need” he assured you, still with that magnificent smile. You nodded shyly, not being able to say anything. You had only been with them in a room for a short while and you felt like you were drunk. The aura they exuded was irresistible. Simultaneously you wanted to be with each of them separately and with all of them altogether. It was not an affection, not yet, but this strange attraction did not allow itself to be forgotten easily. You yearned to be in the same room with them, just to be able to talk to them and look at each other constantly.

“I have… I have a house in Forks” you said, after a few minutes of silence.

“Would you like to sell your property?” asked Caius, raising an eyebrow. Aro was also intrigued. Marcus just continued to look at you, almost as he studied your face.

“I guess. I don't think I want to go back there again” you said quietly, recalling how many bad things happened there. You were no longer at ease, not even to mention amused. The kings, just as it happened the day before, felt the shift in your behaviour. “Ever” you emphasised, but it was only a whisper.

Bad memories deluged your thoughts. Your mother's illness and death. Your father's accident, then his death. Also, the most recent events. You swallowed hard, trying not to cry.

“I don’t want this house. I don’t want to come back to this godforsaken place ever again,” you said, wiping away a single tear with your fingers. You were ashamed, but you could not hold back the tears that followed. You did not deserve to go through all of this.

It was Marcus who spoke first.

“Cara, Aro told us nothing about your past, but I can assure you no one is going to hurt you here. You can be certain about this” he said gently, handing you a handkerchief. You accepted it gratefully, then began to quickly wipe away your tears.

“Marcus is absolutely right, [Y/N]. There is nothing in this world that we cannot protect you from. We will always be by your side. You won’t be in danger ever again” Caius assured you, while you were still trying to get these tears under control.

Aro seemed as if he wanted to lock you in an embrace and never let you go again, but he restrained himself. You knew it was because of your memories, because he saw what happened to you, and because he literally lived through it with you. You thought that probably the latter pushed you towards this decision. Who could know better what you’ve been through, than a person who knew about all things that happened during your life? You wanted a hug, desperately, and you already knew, you could trust Aro on this one.

Once he saw the permission in your eyes, you immediately found yourself in his arms. As usual, he was immensely gentle and affectionate, stroking your hair while not touching your skin, so as not to accidentally read your thoughts. You cuddled into him trustingly, not caring that he was cold. You had known him one day and he had managed to evoke more trust within you, than friends that you had known for years.

When the crying eased and you calmed down slightly, you rested your head on his shoulder. Again, just like yesterday in the throne room, you felt as if you had been home for a long time. They were your home, not some pile of stones and a roof.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, trying not to be ashamed. Aro stroked your hair again.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, cara mia,” he assured you, with a gentle tone of his voice. You glanced at Marcus and Caius, but they only seemed at ease, as you finally were calm and not crying. Not a hint of jealousy. You didn't want Aro to let you out of his embrace and apparently he wasn't going to do anything of the sort either. You felt safe within his arms.

“Can you take care of ‘selling the house’ thing?” you asked, trying to remember what were you talking about before your emotional breakdown.

“Of course, [Y/N]. You could call Isabella later, to gather things you want to have here with you,” said Caius, exceptionally calm. Maybe his behaviour in the throne room was only an act? Or maybe he was being this way only because you were a mess and he didn’t want to upset you more than you already were.

“Yes, I’d like that, please” you said politely, wiping away the last of your tears with the handkerchief you got from Marcus.

“Are you ready to talk about the child, cara, or do you want to postpone it until some other time?” Aro asked you, trying to be as gentle with the word choice as possible. You hid your face in his jet black hair. It smelled of something you couldn't quite define, but it had a calming effect on you. You heaved a number of deep breaths. He gently caressed your shoulder.

“If you feel like sharing this, cara mia, please do. If you are unable to, do not force yourself” he advised, with so much sensitivity in his tone, that you wouldn’t expect from a man, yet alone from a vampire. It seemed that nor Caius, neither Marcus wanted to push you only to get this information.

You didn’t want to ponder about it for too long. It would definitely come to an end with you simply telling nothing at all. While you were not ready at all to talk about it, you needed to explain this somehow. You weren’t ready for any unexpected touch. You were adamant that current thing with Aro was caused by situation and your emotions. While the thought of Caius or Marcus touching you wasn’t downright awful, the idea of unexpected, unwelcomed touch made you twitch uncontrollably.

“As Aro was kind enough to mention…” started Marcus, probably to assure you no words were truly needed. You might, as well, have said it already. You didn't want anyone to accidentally touch you. You wanted to welcome the touch of your mates, just as you did with Aro a few minutes before. Being touched when you didn’t want would be catastrophic, not only for your mental health, but also for the stirring relationship with kings. It would have been worse than talking about rape itself out loud.

“I was raped a few weeks ago” you choked out, trying to make your voice sound as toneless and apathetic as possible. “I haven’t decided what to do with the… with it. Yet” you added, feeling stupid and extremely anxious. You wanted to get it over with, and at the same time you knew, it would have to be talked about at some point.

Nobody said anything. They probably waited for more words, maybe more emotions. You weren’t tense or embarrassed in front of them. Although, the uncertainty, of what were their thoughts on the topic, was a little bit intimidating. As minutes passed and you were saying nothing, Caius spoke up.

“Do you want us to kill him?” he asked, sweeping you off your feet with the question. You stared at him with amazement, completely forgetting about Aro embracing you. Your gaze didn’t discourage Caius a one bit. “Maybe some tortures first? What do you say, brothers?” he asked Aro and Marcus, his eyes remaining on you.

“Could you really do that?” you asked, before Aro or Marcus could answer. Caius started laughing out loud. There was something terrifying and, yet, incomprehensibly appealing about it. He leaned towards you.

“We would burn the whole world for you,” he whispered perilously. “If you want him to suffer, to be terrified, just as you were, say the word” he clarified, with a nasty smirk on his face. “We’ll make his last hours on Earth a living hell.”

Caius had something dangerous within himself. Something primal. He wasn’t so self-composed as Aro and as insular as Marcus. He was violent, fierce, vicious. It should scare you away from him. Only it didn’t. You believed every word he said and wanted it done. Why this little man should live his life peacefully, when you were traumatised and pregnant with a child you didn’t want in a first place?

“Revenge isn’t going to make you feel better” Aro whispered warningly into your ear, but still with calm and gentle voice.

“Yeah, I know that” you said to Aro, while still staring into Caius’s eyes. His also were crimson, but with lighter shade than Aro’s. You weren’t anxious anymore, nor were you in emotional breakdown. “But women he wants to rape will feel better if he doesn’t” you said, smiling almost as darkly as Caius. You got the feeling that you two were going to get along pretty well. Caius leaned back into his chair.

“Fantastic. We’ll talk about it more in following weeks, dear” he said, obviously pleased with the outcome of the conversation.

“Regardless if you keep the child, you’re going to be one of us” reminded Aro, to change the subject. When he mentioned transformation, you were far more conscious than few moments before. You tried not to be pessimistic about the change. You knew questions needed to be asked, but you had plenty of time to ask about anything you wanted and exactly three most experienced vampires in the world to answer them.

“We established it before, Aro” said Marcus for the first time in a while. You gathered that he wasn’t the talkative one here. You disentangled yourself from Aro's embrace and returned to your chair. Enough touching for today. However, you were sure that the sense of safety and comfort that he provided you with, would remain with you for a long time.

“I’m not able to tell you now if I want to keep the child” you said with confidence. “Anyway, I need to know what will happen, whether I decide to terminate the pregnancy or not.”

You were looking directly at Aro. You knew he had the final word here. You had a feeling how it’ll end, but you wanted to hear it anyway and have it straightforward. Aro sighed softly and smiled warmly after.

“If you’d like to keep the child, you’re going to give birth to it and when it’ll be grown up enough, it’ll become one of us” he said, his gaze extremely soft.

“Okay” you agreed. “And what if I’m not going to keep the child?” you asked, because it was the more probable occurrence. Aro saw it within your thoughts and you weren’t going to act like it wasn’t the choice you were closer to opt for. His smile remained gentle and warm, his eyes calm and soft on yours.

“The things that need to be done, are going to be done” he said, and you were extremely grateful that he didn’t use the ‘abortion’ word. You were too emotionally unstable to talk about it so straightforward. “We are going to know each other a little bit more. You’ll also meet our most trustful guards to feel safe. When you’ll be ready, one of us will change you” he explained, as simple as he could. You smiled at him a little sadly.

“Alright. Do I have any time limitations?” you asked curiously, throwing a quick glance at Caius and Marcus.

“No, dolcezza. You can take as much time as you want. You’re finally with us. That’s what truly matters to us” he reassured you. He was neither angry nor upset with the thought of you postponing transformation till the child is being born.

“One step at a time” he said cheerfully and smiled. You also smiled. It was almost impossible not to. “Cara mia, you’re so pretty when you smile. I hope you’ll be able to do that more and more here” this sentence made you blush. All three of them laughed, which made you blush even more.

“Thank you” you whispered, but it was a little unsure and hesitant. You saw concern on their faces.

“May I ask you one more question?” this time it was Marcus who asked.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“Have you checked how far along are you? You’ve told us that maybe you’ll want to terminate the pregnancy, but my concern is about your health and how your body is going to catch up with the decision of yours, regardless what it’ll be” he said, very politely, trying not to offend you. You appreciated that dearly.

Marcus did ask very good question, though. You had no idea how far along you were. It was at least three months since it happened, so your first trimester should be over very soon.

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked. I couldn’t find the courage to do so. The only thing the doctor did, was to confirm the pregnancy” you answered, trying hard to remember if something else was being said.

“We should probably call the doctor, then” said Marcus, concern noticeable in his voice. Aro and Caius agreed with him, so did you.

“So, do I have my own cook at my disposal?” you asked to change the subject and relieve tension a bit. Enough of difficult subjects for today.

“Ah, yes, my dear, of course!” said Aro with extreme enthusiasm. “I hope you enjoyed your breakfast today. If something isn’t the way you want it, tell any of us right away.”

“Oh, yes, I did! Hey, and I told you that already!” you said, quite amused. “Am I not supposed to be the one, who forgets?” you asked, laughing.

Caius laughed most loudly, clearly amused by what you’ve just said. Aro smiled, watching you being in better mood, than before. Marcus was just Marcus, but he also smiled.

You spent the rest of the day with the kings, talking about many important and less important things. Mostly, you talked about the matter of selling your house, the things you will want to have with you in the castle, the fact that you should give up your job and your personal guard. The latter has been the cause of endless discussion. Later that evening, Aro decided that Renata, his personal guard, would be temporarily assigned to you.

You wanted to argue but there was literally no point in it. You knew that for the time you were still human, you had to have some sort of guard, because you couldn't even handle half a vampire on your own. You weren't tired at all, so after eating dinner you spent time with Caius and Marcus, trying to figure out what you could do together to get to know each other better. Unfortunately, Aro was obliged to attend to some important business, but in this case, you had already established some kind of a bond with him.

Caius and Marcus deeply respected your wish not to touch you in any way. You visited the library and were sure you had simply fallen in love. Sadly, most of the books were written in languages the existence of which you were previously unaware. Marcus was more than happy to offer you to study with him. To begin with, learning Italian. You had not yet discovered what Caius liked to do, but you were sure you would soon find out.

When they too had to attend to important matters, they escorted you to your room, and you decided it would be a good idea to call Bella. Not just about the house, but generally to let her know you were alive. When you’ve finally reached her, you both couldn’t shut up.

“Hi, sister!” you squeaked, overly excited. You heard her laugh.

“Hi! Are you fine, [Y/N]? I was starting to worry, the only thing that kept me from calling you was Alice,” she said and you laughed.

“Hi [Y/N]!” you heard Alice in the background. You threw yourself on the bed, so that you could lie on your stomach. You hugged your pillow and made yourself comfortable.

“Hi Alice!” you greeted her, smiling to yourself like a mad person, who you probably were, given the circumstances. “I’m happy to hear you, Bella, seriously. Are you at Cullen’s place?” you asked curious, as where Alice came from.

“Yeah, exactly. We were all worried here, you know” she admitted, you heard how anxious she was. You couldn’t help it but laughed.

“Well, how could you leave me in the lion's den like that” you joked and heard someone’s laugh.

“She’s fun. I need to meet her” you heard again and also laughed.

“This will probably happen sooner rather than later,” you answer to this mystery someone with confidence. Bella’s side fell silent. “But, you know, I guess I’m okay. I had fifteen hours of sleep today and the best scrambled eggs in my entire life” you admitted cheerfully, thinking about you waking up and eating your breakfast in Aro’s presence. You smiled widely. You heard someone talking in the background, but you had no idea what was this all about.

“That’s good because I was worried sick when we got out of that room” Bella admitted, trying to sound not too worried, though.

“It’s better than fine, you know. And how are you? You seriously were as white as a sheet while in throne room” you said and this was your turn to be worried about Bella again. “Hey, and I hope this asshole isn’t going to leave you again. My threat is in force,” you said in a threatening tone, knowing that Edward could definitely hear it. You heard the same laugh as before plus Bella’s laugh.

“I’m sure he’ll not be doing it again. Carlisle has already scolded him decently.”

Your heart ached a little after hearing Carlisle’s name. You thought he was your friend, or maybe it was beginning of friendship, and now you had no idea what to think about it at all.

“Good. How are you, Bells?” you asked again, hugging your pillow tightly.

“I’m okay, really, [Y/N]. No need to worry about me.”

Of course you were going to worry about her. She was just like a little sister to you. No way you’d stop worrying. Suddenly, you remembered what happened in the throne room and became seriously concerned.

“Have you set a date?” you asked, and again, the other side fell silent. This time completely. You sighed heavily. “I’m not a spy, you know, but I’m worried about you. We will need to talk about all of this. I get why didn’t you tell me, but, seriously Bella, your self-preservation instinct does not exist,” you scolded her, just a little. You had a feeling that she gave no fucks, no matter what anyone could say about this situation.

“Says the “I’m staying here, Bella” person” she gritted out with sarcasm. You rolled your eyes.

“One, they wouldn’t let me leave. Two, you were in danger and I was alright with sacrificing myself to save you. Three…” this time you fell silent, realising something important. “…I wouldn’t go. I’m not able to. This bond, whatever it is, it’s strong shit. You probably now it, as you have this with Edward. I have got it triple.”

After really long moment of complete silence, Bella spoke up.

“Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?” she asked, her question as heavy as storm clouds. You sighed.

“Because I’ve got nothing to live for, ya know? I was prepared that I wouldn’t get out alive,” you admitted with sad voice, but it was downright true.

“You’re pregnant, [Y/N]” she said, like it was something, which could immediately improve your well-being and quality of life. You felt like throwing up.

“Yeah. I’m pregnant with the child I don’t want, with a man I’ve never met, who forced himself on me and made my life more miserable than it already was. I should probably send him a card or something because, guess what, I’ve never considered that my life is going to be more crappy than it already was after my parents’ death.”

When you ended the sentence and no one said anything, you just sighed heavily.

“You’ve got the date set?” you asked again, merely curious about this and to change the topic.

“Not yet” she said, her voice sad and full of emotions.

“Then do it. They’re patient, to some extent, but don't tempt fate. I don’t want to attend yet another funeral,” you said bitterly, trying not to think at all.

“How can you be so calm about all of this?” Bella snapped suddenly, making you shift uncomfortably on bed.

“And how you can be so calm? How was this your fucking plan from the very beginning? Once again, I try to understand you, while not understanding you at all” you snapped too, tired of any games. Before she could answer, you continued:

“I’m not coming back. I wanted to ask you if you could go to my house and get some things, I can make you a list if it’s going to be easier.”

You thought telling her this right away would be better than if she wasn’t aware for weeks or months.

“What?! Why aren’t you coming back?” she asked with raised voice. You wanted to shout and scream but you didn’t. It was too much for one day.

“Because I’ve got nothing to come back to. You’re going to be a vampire anyway, so I’ll see you in some time. I’m selling the house and I want to leave the past exactly where it belongs” you explained, trying not to yell. The hormone fluctuations didn't make it easy for you at all.

Another silence. You were tired of all of this.

“Can you do this for me, Bella? Because if you can’t, I’m sure…”

She didn’t let you finish.

“Of course I’ll do it for you. Can we talk tomorrow about the details?” she asked, her voice calmed a bit.

“Yeah, sure. It’s well after midnight here anyway, so I should probably go to sleep. I’ve got doctor’s appointment tomorrow in the afternoon” you said, trying to sound casually. Last thing you needed now was to argue about anything with Bella.

“Okay, so, call me tomorrow?” she asked. “And be safe.”

“You too, Bells. Take care. I love you, sis” you said, trying to stop the forthcoming tears.

“I love you too, [Y/N].”

Long after this phone call, you couldn’t get yourself to sleep. You tried bath this time, but it was mostly useless. At least, you were clean. First time after the rape, you decided to touch your belly on purpose. It began to curve gently, and, apart from that, you still felt pain and pressure in your breasts. You put on a nightdress and went to bed, this time actually trying to get some sleep. You also tried not to think too much about what the future would bring.

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