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clouditae · 4 years ago

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First Love | 12

Word: 3.8k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

Ari opens the door, tossing her backpack to the floor. You weren’t expecting her to come back so early that when the door loudly creaks from the force of the door opening, you jump in surprise. She looks to you with a triumphant look on her face as she practically yells with the door still closing, “I got an A on my fucking paper!” The door slams shut as she does a weird and awkward dance.

“Good job. I knew you could do it,” you congratulate, saving your work on your computer.

Ari kicks her backpack with no care in the world as to what she has inside. “Let’s celebrate,” she extolls, pulling off her hoodie and tossing it on her bed.

You turn your body to the left where she stands, picking up her backpack and putting it on her bed. “Celebrate?”

“Yeah. It’s Friday, I got a well deserved grade after almost breaking my wrist, and I am in the mood for some good food and a drink or seven.”

“What about Hoseok?” Ever since Hoseok and Ari got together, they’ve been inseparable. You sometimes wonder if you’ll be like that when you get a boyfriend. All couples eventually spend time separately, right? You sometimes feel really disappointed in yourself for not knowing a lot when it comes to relationships.

“He’s staying after class with some of his classmates to study for a test that ends tonight,” she says, disbelief evident in her tone.

“Why hasn’t he taken the test yet?”

“I don’t know? He seemed really nervous about this test, so all he’s done is study like there’s no tomorrow. I hope he takes it soon because the longer he waits, the harder it will be to answer questions as time ticks by.” Ari shakes her head, walking to her closet and opening the door. “Are you going in sweats?” She looks at you through the mirror.

You blink at her. “We’re actually going?”

She scoffs, “Yeah. I wasn’t joking, Y/N.” She pulls out a red spaghetti strap and a black jacket. Removing her shirt, she slips on her top. “I want food and some drinks.”

You sigh, “Can’t we just order takeout and sneak some alcohol in?”

“And get in trouble?”

You stare at her, contemplating if sneaking alcohol is really worth it. Groaning, you get up from your seat. “How far are we going?” You walk to your closet, opening the door to grab your jeans and whatever black shirt you first grab. There is no patience when it comes to picking outfits. You just blindly pick and go and hope it looks nice on you.

“It’s only down the street,” she exclaims, taking a set at her desk to fix her makeup at her little mirror. Changing clothes, you realize you put on a turtleneck. You didn’t know you have this type of shirt in your closet. You’ve seen a lot of professional looks with turtlenecks, but you can’t remember buying this and found no reason to wear it. “That’s a cute look,” Ari suddenly says, her body turned towards you. You watch her get up from her seat, making her way towards you. She unbuttons your pants and pushes the lower half of your shirt in your pants. “You’ll look even cuter like this. Plus you have a nice ass, so show it off.” Your hands unconsciously go to your butt, suddenly feeling self conscious. Ari buttons your pants and tells you, “No one will look. You’ll be sitting the whole time.” She pulls your shirt out just a bit to give it a baggy look. “There. Now your cute ass will get attention, but you’ll just look like you’re not interested and they’ll be sad not to have the opportunity to speak to the gorgeous Y/N.”

Ari just seems to have a way with words.

After a few more minutes of double checking for everything, the two of you leave your dorm and head the usual route towards the front parking lot. As you pass Yoongi and Hoseok’s door Ari yells, “Let’s go get you drunk and a boyfriend, Y/N!”

You place your hand over her mouth. “Why are you yelling?” you whisper, checking behind you to see if anyone heard her.

Ari removes your hand from over her mouth. “I’m showing Yoongi you’re better off without him,” she replies, the two of you walking past the stairwell and into the hallway where the exit to the front is.

“What makes you think Yoongi is even in his room?” The two of you are halfway down the hall when the sound chatter can be heard as you pass a group of doors.

Ari shrugs. “The dude never goes anywhere besides class and his room right?” You don’t know yourself. A majority of the time you spent with him was either in his room or somewhere else that not many people from campus went to. “I want him to know you’re about to get dicked down and he’s missing out on a fine ass girl.”

“I’m about to what?” What does that even mean?

Ari laughs as the two of you exit the building and head down the stairwell. “Not today obviously, but it’s to make him jealous.”

“We don’t even know if he likes me,” you counter, following a group of students walking towards the front gate entrance.

“Opposites attract, Y/N.”

“I’m attracted to him, but that doesn’t mean he’s attracted to me.”

Ari loops her arm through yours. “You never know. He might have a crush on shy, innocent types.”

“Wishful thinking, Ari,” you say, shaking your head as the two of you reach the sidewalk and make your way up towards the bar that sits at the corner. There are a few other students a bit up ahead making their way towards the bar as well, their loud chatter can be heard from where you and Ari walk.

“So, how’s your project coming along? Don’t you have like two weeks left?” The two of you pass a hotel. The neon light hanging on the window to the reception flickers every few seconds. Everything is quiet in that building until you pass the seafood restaurant where you can see a few people laughing from the window. It looks more lively than the hotel.

“It’s going great surprisingly.” You rub your arm for a little more warmth. “I just have to finish my body and conclusion and then sum it a bit more for the poster.”

“Damn. So you’ll have it done earlier than anyone when it comes to projects,” Ari whistles.

“People finish their projects a week or more before the due date,” you say, the two of you are now closer to the bar where you know heat will be.

“People who are smart finish weeks before. The rest of us procrastinate,” she laughs, shaking her head. The bar is now within a few feet when Ari says through chattering teeth, “We’re running. I can’t do this anymore.” You don’t have much of an option as she begins to jog towards the building, dragging you with her. Pushing through the door the smell of nachos and burgers invade your senses, your stomach rumbling in hunger. Ari removes her arm from around yours, pushing you towards the seating area. “Go find us a table. I’ll grab the food and drinks.”

Walking further into the building, you look around for an empty table. The walls where the tables and booths occupy are yellow while the brick wall has the kitchen and cashier against it. You scan the room in search of someone leaving, but to your luck you don’t have to look long until you find an empty booth at the far end of the room. You make your way over as another group of people get up from their table, gathering their backpacks after what looks like studying. You take a seat just as Ari makes her way over holding two bottles.

As Ari takes a seat across from you, she hands you the clear bottle with a green substance inside and says, “Flavored alcohol tastes so much better. Plus you’ll want more.”

Thanking your roommate, you take the glass and take a swig of it. It tastes like apples. “Has Hoseok started his test yet?”

“Yeah. When I last texted him, he was getting ready to start the test. He’s nervous and I told him you said "good luck”. He gave me one of those crying faces.“

"I hope he passes,” you mutter as you bring the rim of the glass to your lips. After another drink you add, “Is he coming here after his test or will he just go back to his room?”

Ari thinks for a moment, opening her mouth to answer when the speaker above says, “Ari, please come to the front. Your order is ready.”

She gets up and makes her way to the counter at the front where your food is waiting. From afar you watch her grab the tray, say a few words to the worker and make her way back to your table. “He’s just going to go back to the dorms. He sounded tired over the phone when we last talked,” she answers, putting the tray down and taking her seat.

On the tray is a plate of a greasy cheeseburger and fries; the other plate has nachos with jalapenos. “You got a burger, too?”

“Yeah. I was just going to get nachos for the both of us because it’s a lot, but I was craving a burger, too.” She shrugs. “We’ll share both and have the night of our lives.” You chuckle, grabbing a chip with a jalapeno barely hanging on by the string of cheese that’s attempting to escape from your mouth.

You grab the plate that holds the burger and fries, pulling it towards you. Picking up the knife that’s placed between the fries and greasy stack, you cut the burger in half, careful to not give one side more than the other. “Midterms are starting in two weeks, do you know if all your classes will have them or just some?” you ask, pushing the plate back to the middle for Ari to reach.

She groans, “All of them are going to have a midterm. One of them is a fucking paper that has to be seven pages long.”

“Seven? Which class is that?” You also wonder when she was given the information about the paper, and how long she originally had to write it. Ari is a big procrastinator. If she can avoid doing work immediately, she will and give herself a few days to work on it with all the stress jumping at her.

She shoves a few fries in her mouth in an aggressive manner. “Modern Asia,” she answers, mouth full of chewed up food. “He gave us this big list of documents we need to pick from and watch. Then we have to write a paper on it and answer the questions he has for them. There are seven documents on six different countries.”

“Which one are you picking?” You grab a few nacho chips, flipping it so that the cheese wraps around and coats the chip more.

“Uzbekistan.” She grabs half of the burger, taking a bite out of the corner. “The People, History, and Culture of Uzbekistan to be more specific. It’s on YouTube so it won’t be a mission to find the video, but a big distraction because it’s on YouTube.” Ari takes another bite, bigger this time, of her burger. “This is really good.” She looks up to you. “Should I buy another one?”

“We haven’t made a dent in the nachos yet. Plus we still have the fries to finish,” you inform, clearly shocked that Ari’s ready for more.

“Take a bite of the damn burger and you’ll know what I mean,” she commands, gesturing to your half that sat on your plate in all its glory.

You roll your eyes, doing as told. You can’t deny that it smells amazing and your mouth waters at the endless possibilities as to what it’ll taste like. When you take that bite, it’s like taking a bite out of heaven. Sure you’re being over dramatic, but you totally understand Ari wanting to buy another one. “I’ll go get one,” you tell her, getting up from your seat and taking your bag with you while Ari laughs.

You get to the back of the small line, opening your bag and pulling out your wallet. “Next in line,” a voice calls from behind the counter. You take a step forward, now being two people behind before you’re called. You have to double check to make sure you brought your money with you. There were a few times when you just leave your money at home and have to go the day without eating when you’re stuck on campus all day. You get lucky sometimes when Ari would bring you your missing items. The worker calls for the next customer to come up.

“Y/N?” You look behind you to see a familiar face. A familiar face with a name you cannot remember. It’s your partner during beer pong. The handsome guy who any person would want to date. He’s easygoing and funny and friendly, and you cannot remember his name.

“Hey,” you say, trying your best not to sound lost because his name is not coming to mind. “How are you?”

“Good, good. A friend of mine and I were tired from studying, so we decided to come here for a few drinks and some food.” A voice calls for the next person; the two of you move up. “What about you?”

“My friend got an A on her paper. She wanted to go out and celebrate.”

“That’s awesome! I’d do the same if I were her,” he laughs, his smile actually making your heart race as he runs his fingers through his jet black locks.

“Hey, Hanbin,” a male voice calls, coming up to the line. Hanbin. That’s his name. “There’s no empty tables. You just wanna eat outside or bounce?”

“Really? Ah, man.” You watch as Hanbin looks around the building in hopes of someone leaving their table.

“You can eat with us,” you say before you can even stop yourself from letting the words escape your mouth.

Hanbin and his friend look at you. “Really?” the stranger asks.

You can’t say no. You already messed up, and saying no will only make you look like a jerk. “Yeah.” Good job Y/N.

“We don’t want to impose,” Hanbin tells you, looking a little nervous.

“It’s okay.” Where is all this false confidence coming from? “It’s up to you if you want,” you say, turning around and pointing in the direction you and Ari are sitting. “We’re over there if you want to join.”

“Next in line.”

You turn back around and make your way up to the cashier. You give your order for the second burger you and Ari are about to devour, paying and making your way towards your booth where Ari finishes her half of the burger. “I messed up,” you rush, grabbing your drink and placing it on her side of the table.

“Messed up? What’d you do?” Ari asks, suddenly being pushed further in the booth as you scoot in. “What are you doing?”

“Remember Hanbin? The boy I told you was my partner at the party?” You grab the plates and pull them closer to the two of you.

“Yeah?”

“Well he was standing in line behind me and we had small talk and the next thing I know, I invited him and his friend to sit with us,” you profess in a shaky voice.

“You just invited two guys over?” she asks in an ambivalent tone.

You can see her from the corner of your eye staring at you as you babble, “Yes.”

Her hand moves to her chest. “Has my little Y/N grown up?”

You turn to look at her in surprise. “You’re not mad?”

She laughs, “No. Why would I be?”

“Because you’re dating Hoseok and it’ll look bad if someone saw you chatting with a guy?” Isn’t that how it works? You’ve seen it in movies and it always leads to problems—eventually solved.

“Hoseok trusts me just like I trust him. I’d never cheat on him, and we’re not stopping each other from having opposite sex friends.” She shrugs, looking behind you. “Is that them?”

You turn to look in the direction her eyes are focused on. Hanbin and his friend stand by the soda fountain, getting their drinks. “Yeah. The boy with the green jacket is Hanbin and I don’t know the other guy’s name,” you confess, wondering if it’s rude to not introduce yourself. Then again, he didn’t either.

Ari’s voice is now closer to you as she speaks, “Don’t tell Hoseok but he’s really cute. Why not date him? Tall, fit and handsome? That’s a whole package.” She suddenly gasps, “His package must be—”

You cover her mouth with your hand. “Do not finish that sentence,” you sputter, glancing around to see if anyone heard you. To your luck no one’s paying attention to you and your perverted friend.

Aris swats your hands away. “He’s cute, Y/N. And if he comes over and sits with us, then he’s interested in you, too.”

“Or he’s looking for a seat because there is none,” you counteract, grabbing a nacho and shoving it in your mouth. “Also, I’m not interested in him.”

“Guess we’ll see.” A voice speaks over the speaker, calling your name. “Time to devour a delicious burger.” She slaps her hand on your shoulder, pushing you out of the booth.

Groaning, you get up and make your way to the pick-up counter, telling the person your name and getting your order. “Are you sure it’s okay?” Hanbin asks, suddenly appearing next to you to grab his own order.

You almost jump, gripping the plate tighter. He looks to you unsure if he’s allowed to follow. You can feel your heart racing. This is strange. Ari’s words are just getting to you. “Yeah,” you swallow, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s fine.” You are not growing feelings for him.

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I really wanted to eat some chicken strips,” he laughs, his voice sounding smoky.

Oh God you like him.

You, Hanbin and Matthew, he tells you, shaking your hand so enthusiastically, make your way towards your booth. Ari is busy stuffing her face with fries to even notice you three until you set the plate down and take a seat next to her. She looks up, eyes wide and fries sticking out of her mouth. Thankfully she waves rather than talk with her mouth full of food. Matthew gets in first followed by Hanbin.

“Uh.” You glance at Ari who quickly chews on her food. “This is my friend and roommate, Ari.” You point to Matthew. “Ari, this is Matthew and this is Hanbin,” you finish, pointing to the boy in front of you.

“Hello,” Ari starts, once she’s chewed and swallowed her fries, “I’m really hungry, and these fries are good.”

Matthew gasps, “They are.” He turns to Hanbin. “I told you this place has some fucking good food.”

Ari looks to Hanbin as if he offended her. “You’ve never been here before?” He looks at her with a lost expression. He clearly doesn’t know how to respond. To his luck, however, he doesn’t have to as Ari adds, “It’s a good thing you have a friend like Matthew to introduce you to nirvana.”

The brunette haired boy snaps his fingers, pointing to your friend. “Exactly.”

“What’s your major?” Ari asks, grabbing the second plate that has the burger to cut it in half.

“Biomedical sciences,” he answers, taking a bite out of his taco.

“Oh? That sounds interesting. What exactly do you study?” Ari rests her arms on the table, leaning forward. The burger no longer exists to her.

“Just kind of the understanding of biological and chemical systems of the human body. What about you?”

“Linguistics, and Y/N here is a photography major.”

Matthew’s eyes are now on you. “Oh another art type.”

“Art type?” you question, finally taking bites out of your half of the first burger.

“Yeah. Photography creates art; stand-still pieces. There’s art galleries for photography, right?” Matthew glances between you and Ari.

“Yeah, I believe so,” Ari replies, popping a fry into her mouth.

“Plus Hanbin here is also an art type,” he begins, nudging his friend with his elbow, “Film.”

“You’re a film major?” You look to him, completely invested in his stories you want him to tell.

He gives you a shy smile. “Yeah.”

And just like that the rest of the night is a blur. You four eat and definitely drink. Ari and Matthew are drunk while you and Hanbin are buzzed. You mainly have conversations with Hanbin half the time the four of you sit. The two of you talk about film and photography—things you do and try to make your work look better. Eventually Matthew’s girlfriend comes and picks him up. Ari gushes at how cute she is and you have to apologize for how… gushy she is. Matthew’s girlfriend doesn’t seem to mind much as she smiles and walks a drunk Matthew out of the building.

After a while you and Hanbin decide it’s time to head out. Hanbin offers to walk you back to your dorm, and rather than politely decline his offer you say, “Please.”

Now you and Hanbin are chuckling at Ari as she whines about how much she loves Hoseok. Reaching your room you unlock the door for Ari to stumble in and get ready for bed. You keep the door cracked open as you look back at Hanbin.

“Thank you for the walk back.”

He shakes his head. “No problem. With everyone being drunk, you never know who’s trying to start something.”

You smile. “Still, I appreciate it.”

His smile is even bigger as he points to the way you just come from. “So I can head back the way we came?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Guess I should head out. Be sure to give Ari some water and medicine for her headache if she gets one.” You nod. “We should do this again,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Definitely. Goodnight and have a safe drive home,” you say, voice quieter than before.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he mumbles, and it’s so sudden.

An instant that makes your heart race and realization hit as he presses his lips to your forehead, leaving before you can say anything. You touch the spot where his lips met your skin.

You have a crush on him.

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bangchanshehe · 4 years ago

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The Only One pt.3

You and your life long best friend Chanyeol were like the same person. You knew everything about one another, and whatever problems you had you faced it together. But what are you supposed to do when you discover that your best friend loves you so much that only he can be important to you, and would go to great lengths to make sure that he was the only one? Yandere!AU

Chanyeol X OC

Word count: 2.2k

“let’s sit over here!” Jongin said in an upbeat tone as he gestured to a pretty isolated booth.

You followed his lead and sat down comfortably at the table and put your backpack to your side. You were about to ask Jongin a question when he suddenly stood up. You stared up at him with wide eyes wondering what he was doing.

“I’ll go get us something to drink. What do you want?” he asked you.

You glanced behind you over to the drink fountain to go over what different options they had but your eyes were met with a curious Chanyeol instead. He looked at you before he turned his head and looked Jongin up and down as if he were assessing him for something. you tried to make eye contact with him so you could give him a ‘leave it alone’ stare, but he wouldn’t stop staring at Jongin. You shook your head as you looked back over to the drink fountain and smiled when you saw the familiar red logo.

“I’ll just have a coke” you said looking back at Jongin with a smile.

Jongin nodded his head and returned your smile back before he walked away. You watched as he left and as soon as you saw him a safe distance away you pulled out your phone and quickly text Chanyeol.

Me: Stop staring at him like he has a third eye.

You hit send and looked back at Chanyeol to see his face while he read the message. He pulled out his phone and smiled down at the screen before he lifted his eyes to look at you. When you were satisfied that he had seen that you weren’t happy you turned back around just in time for Jongin to return to your table.

“thanks” you said softly as he sat your drink back down in front of you before returning to his seat.

You took a long swig of the drink and let out a nice content sigh as you felt the carbonation go down your throat. Jongin watched you with a smile and you couldn’t help but smile back at him.

“what?” you asked, “is there something on my face?” you pat away at the corners of your mouth and your chin, hoping to catch whatever it was that was making Jongin laugh at you that way.

“no, there isn’t anything there. You just looked cute.” He commented before he pulled out a menu and looked it over.

You sat in your seat starstruck and completely frozen. He thinks that I’m cute? You mentally squealed on the inside. You looked down at your phone pretending to be busy while you tried to calm down and wipe the massive grin and blush away from your cheeks. You couldn’t believe that this was happening to you right now… I mean even if Jongin was joking it still made you feel like the prettiest girl in the world in that moment.

“what type of pizza do you normally order?” Jongin asked as he scanned the different pizzas they had on the menu, not bothering to look up at you.

“Usually I order Hawaiian, but I’m honestly okay with whatever type of pizza. I’m not picky about food.” You replied.

Jongin’s eyes snapped up to you when you had mentioned Hawaiian pizza. “you like pineapple on pizza?” he asked with a shocked expression.

“yeah…” you said chuckling nervously “It’s pretty good. Do you not like it?” you asked back

Jongin cocked his head to the side and gave you a questionable look. “I thought that you had pretty good taste… but I guess not.” He said jokingly while laughing lightly.

Your eyes widened and you laughed back with him. “hey! Have you ever tried it though?” you asked back. Jongin fiercely shook his head no and you smiled “I bet you would like it if you tried it!” you said in a challenging voice.

Jongin laughed and pointed at the menu “okay so let’s get a large pizza… half Hawaiian and half pepperoni” he stated making sure that it sounded good to you.

“perfect” you said sweetly giving him confirmation.

“Great. Then I’ll go order really fast.” He said pointing back to the registers before he got up and quickly approached the counter.

As soon as he was away you had received a text message. You pulled it out and saw a string of messages from Chanyeol.

Yeolie: This guy doesn’t like pineapples on pizza? You sure know how to pick em’

Yeolie: Hey! Keep the laughing down over there I’m trying to study over here

Yeolie: if you smile any wider you’re going to start catching flies with your mouth.

You scoffed in disbelief and turned around to glare at Chanyeol. But when you turned back Chanyeol was looking anywhere but at you. You tried to whistle and hiss to catch his attention, but he only smiled and continued to ignore you.

“you unlucky punk. Im going to give it to you later” you angerly whispered underneath your breath as you quickly typed out a text.

Me: if you know what’s good for you you’d better stop.

You huffed out in victory as you sent the message and then immediately turned your phone off to make sure that Chanyeol couldn’t bother you anymore while you were here.

“what’s wrong?” Jongin asked with a serious expression as he cautiously took his seat across from you “did something happen?”

You snapped your head up in surprise and your angry expression was immediately wiped away at the sound of Jongin’s voice. You gave him a small smile and quickly tucked your phone away in your backpack so it wouldn’t bother you anymore.

“nothings wrong” you said sweetly

“good. Im glad” he said nicely back

After a thirty minutes the two of you were thoroughly stuffed and blushing with how awkward and sweet things were going between the two of you. In just this short amount of time you found out that Jongin’s favorite color is blue, he has an older sister, he loves dancing as a hobby and he really likes scary movies. Surprisingly the two of you had more things in common than you were aware of, and you knew deep down that this was just basic information that anyone who would call themselves a friend of his would know but you couldn’t help but think that it was a conversation that made the two of you grow closer.

“since we already ate and relaxed do you want to study for a bit?” he asked as he reached for his bag.

“sure” you responded back noticing that he didn’t wait for you to respond before he already began to change the direction of the conversation and evening.

You pulled out all of your supplies and laid them out in front of yourself. You were a bit of a freak when it came to how you had all of your study supplies laid out. You needed a black, blue and red pen. A highlighter and sticky notes. White-out for any mistakes and tabs to mark which sections you thought were the most important.

When you had everything organized you looked up to see Chanyeol walking by your booth. When he was past Jongin’s line of vision he began making angry faces and making texting motions with hands. You glared at him and cocked your head to the side telling him as best as you could to get lost. Chanyeol glared back at you for a moment and then smiled a sideways grin as if he was in total disbelief before he walked away towards the front counter.

“do you know him?” Jongin asked quietly as to not offend anyone as he looked back at Chanyeol and then to you

You laughed nervously before responding “who? That guy?” you pointed to Chanyeol before waving your hands no.

“are you sure?” he said looking back at Chanyeol once more as he came walking to your table.

You waited for Chanyeol to continue walking past, but he never did. He stopped dead in his tracks and with his hand on the back of his head he smiled at you before half yelling “Y/N! I didn’t see that you were sitting here! How long have you guys been here?” he asked with the least convincing tone ever.

You looked up at him with an evil frown for half a second before you decided to play along with his stupid little game. “oh my god. Chanyeol! We’ve been here for about an hour now. where were you sitting?”

He laughed to himself and then gestured with his head to the booth that was just a few spaces back from you. “just over there. I didn’t realize that it was you since I could only see the back of your head”

“would you like to join us while we study?” Jongin asked politely

You and Chanyeol both turned your heads towards Jongin but with different intent. Chanyeol was grinning like he had just won the lottery and you were giving Jongin a pleading look as if you were begging for him not to allow Chanyeol to stay.

“sure. Let me just bring my things over” Chanyeol said happily before he collected his things from his table and brought them back to yours.

You smiled fakely at Chanyeol’s retreating form and decided to turn on your phone so you could give him a warning text message to go away. But as soon as your phone was unlocked you saw a few new text messages come in from Chanyeol. You rolled your eyes before you opened the message but once you read them your heart sank and you were a bit more hyper aware of everything that was going on around you.

Yeolie: Don’t panic but I think he put something in your drink.

Yeolie: quit drinking damnit!

By the time that reality had sunk in Chanyeol was moving things over on your side of the booth so there would be space for him to sit down next to you. As you watched him get comfortable as single tear fell from the corner of your eye and you tried to remain as straight faced so you wouldn’t look to suspicious to Jongin. But before you could give yourself away Chanyeol turned to you to make sure that you were okay when he saw your tear. His face immediately dropped into sadness with you and he wiped the tear away from your cheek.

“I’m gonna get a refill” Chanyeol said to you quietly “do you want another one?”

You grabbed onto his free hand under then table and gave it a gentle squeeze. “thanks” you said turning away from him so the two of you didn’t look so affectionate.

As Chanyeol grabbed both cups you watched him slip out of the booth and walk to the front counter. He put your cup down on the bar and then reached over for a new cup while no one was watching him. Your heart warmed and you felt so safe in that moment despite sitting across from someone who wanted to potentially do something incredibly bad to you. You were incredibly lucky to have a best friend like Chanyeol and you don’t know what you would do If you didn’t have him around. You sniffled and blinked twice trying to keep your tears at bay and you watched him as he made your drink again for you, unaware that Jongin was staring at you.

“are you okay?” he asked with a look of shock and concern

“I’m fine. I think my eyes are just tired and they keep watering up.” You said unconvincingly, trying your best to make up a lie on the spot.

After Chanyeol had approached your table the three of you immediately began to work diligently on your studies. You and Chanyeol had secretly agreed that if you were feeling bad that he would make up a lie to get you out, and in an hour’s time the two of you would leave no matter what.

“So you guys seem pretty close. Have y’all known each other for a long time or something?” Jongin asked

“childhood friends” Chanyeol said confidently, speaking up for you so you wouldn’t have to reply

Jongin nodded his head but continued to look in between the two of you as if he was trying to solve a puzzle “y’all are just friends? Have you two ever dated?” he asked

You smiled and looked over at Chanyeol just for the excuse to look at his face. “just friends” you said politely and Chanyeol smiled back at you with a similar plain smile. You would be lying if you said that you had never had feelings for Chanyeol that went deeper than just the close friendship. There was a period of time in which you couldn’t look at Chanyeol without blushing and dreaming of holding his hand and calling him your man.

But as the two of you got older then more you realized that you and Chanyeol were destined to be only friends. Anything more would be impossible, because if the two of you date and end on bad terms then you’ve also lost your best friend.

“Not yet but I’m working on it” Chanyeol said straight to Jongin’s face as if it were a challenge.

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rainydayhogwartsimagines · 4 years ago

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Hey so I really don’t know how to request stuff, but like I love your posts and I love Freddie so here we go

Freddie and the weasleys go visit the muggle world but the States and meet this amazing girl (aka y/n) while at a carnival. He falls head over heels the moment he sees her and they talk for a while, he believes she’s a muggle, however when they go back to hogwarts, she ends up being the new transfer student :o

But it’s okay if you don’t do it! It’s just a little idea maybe you can take some inspo off it ❤️

America was a lot bigger than Charlie told the Weasleys... And Harry. It was massive as they stood on the side walk. "airplanes. How fascinating!" Arthur said making all of the kids groan in response. "We. Know." Ginny sighed. "You talked about it for three hours on the plane!" Ron whined.

"Mum! Dad!" Someone said from across the street. He ran over and waved. "You guys made it!" Charlie said. "Yes and we're quite tired, where are we staying?" Molly asked. "Oh, it's two blocks from here, come on." Charlie said. The group walked, looking around at the scenery. "A carnival is in town tomorrow, you guys are totally going." Charlie said. Fred rose a brow. "Carnival? Like something from the movies?" He asked. "What expecting a summer romance?" Charlie asked jokingly. "No I--" Fred then noticed the long haired girl walking down the steps of the subway, face looking focused as you walked. "No." He cleared his throat. "Ohh he saw something pretty." Ginny teased. "Shut it." He said, roughing up her hair.

Fred didn't think much about the carnival idea. In fact this trip over all wasn't very exciting to him. Ron and Harry shared a room, Fred and George shared one and Ginny was the lucky one on her own. Fred looked out the window and Charlie walked in. "You guys ready to goooo?" He asked. "Yeah. Tell me this won't be dull." Fred said. "It won't be dull." Charlie assured.

So there Fred stood, screams of citizens going on as they rode rides, attractions that muggles of course found interesting with their naive minds and then... You. Fred didn't think much of this but you sat at a picnic table talking to someone. Your hair was in a ponytail, pulled back by a black ribbon and you wore a red cardigan despite the warm weather. Your smile was something he was captivated by, his lips parting as he saw it. Charlie rose a brow, following his brother's gaze before you looked over. "Charlie!" You said running over. Fred blinked.

"Y/n! Hi!" Charlie greeted. You gave him a small hug and you chuckled. "Glad to see you came, Sam's over there if you wanna talk to her." You said with finger guns. He chuckled and shook his head. "This is my brother Fred. Keep his sane will you?" Charlie asked. "I got it! Go go!" You shoved him to the table and ran back over. "What was that about?" Fred asked. "Charlie has a thing for my friend. This was a set up." You chuckled. You turned to Fred. "So you're Fred. Where's George?" You asked, cocking your head to the side like a confused dog. "...You know about George?" Fred asked. "Yeah, Charlie talks to me all the time." You nodded. "George is with Ginny." Fred said slowly, looking at you. "What's wrong?" You asked. "I... How do you know Charlie?" He asked. "My dad owns a coffee shop that I work at during the summer and Charlie is a regular." You said. Oh... So you were... A muggle.

Fred nodded and you rose a brow. "So, you wanna do something?" You asked curiously, bouncing back and forth on the balls of your heels. "uhh... Sure.. I don't know anything here though." He admitted. "Well in two hours there's going to be a banana derby." You said. Fred blinked. "A what?" He asked. "Spider monkeys riding on the back of dogs like it's a derby." You said. He blinked and gaped slightly. "What the hell are you Americans on?" Fred asked. "Freedom.... Too much freedom. But freedom." You answered. Fred snorted and you both started laughing.

"Well what's there to do now?" Fred finally asked. "Well there's rides but they're way too fucking loud and have a tendency to break down." You said. "No." Fred shuddered at the thought. Course he could easily fix something. "There's food that will cause you to probably die by thirty." You said. Fred rose a brow before seeing a kid walk by with a deep fried oreo. "I am understanding this 'too much freedom' comment you made." Fred said with a shudder. "There's games that are totally rigged but still kind of fun." You said. "That sounds kind of appealing compared to rotting your insides and potentially having a hospital trip." Fred said. "Rigged games it is!" You chuckled.

Fred followed you around, watching you laugh at many failed attempts with a baseball and hitting targets. "God your bad at this." You laughed. "Okay, you try it then!" Fred laughed. You picked up a baseball and hit the target making Fred raise a brow. "America's favorite pastime." You said, throwing the next ball up, it falling back into your hand and you hitting the next target. "How are you doing that?" Fred asked. You chuckled and stood behind Fred. "straighten your legs a little." You instructed. "Now pull your arm back." You said, guiding his arm with your hands. God they were so soft and small. "Wow..." You muttered, feeling the muscle that Fred had. Quidditch was a God send in this moment. "Like something?" He asked with a chuckle. "Throw the ball idiot." You blushed, letting go. He hit the target. "Pick your prize." The attendant said in a monotone voice. "What do you want?" Fred asked. "....Uuuh.. that weird ass mole platypus looking thing." You said pointing to the unidentifiable stuffed animal. "It's also a backpack." The attendant muttered. "BRO THAT'S SO COOL" you gaped, pulling it onto your back. Fred snorted, seeing you hop around with the creature on your back. If Fred weren't at a muggle based carnival he would almost call the backpack a niffler.

Fred spent most of the evening with you, talking to you and discovering you actually were moving to Scotland soon. Charlie befriended you so you'd know at least one person out there. "Why are you moving?" He asked. "Mom got a new job out there. She's an archeologist." You said. "Ah." Fred nodded. "what about you, what do your parents do?" You asked. "Uhm." Fuck, how should he answer that? "Mum's a stay at home mother and my dad... Works a desk job." He said. Not technically a lie. "Hmm." You nodded. "What do you want to be exactly?" Fred asked. "Welll... That's a little hard to explain." You admitted. "I'm used to weird." Fred chuckled. You smiled slightly. "Uhm... I want to study--" "Y/N!!!!!" someone called making you sigh. "I'll be right back." You huffed.

The girl from earlier was talking to you, smiling and you rolled your eyes. You came back over and snorted. "What was that?" Fred asked. "Charlie asked Sam out. Officially." You laughed. "and she needed to tell you?" Fred asked. "Sam tells me everything. I'm really going to miss her when I move." You said with a sigh. Fred put his hand over yours and you looked up, Fred giving you a reassuring look. You smiled at him and he kissed your knuckles. "On the bright side... I can see you in Scotland." Fred said. You smiled at that comment and laughed. "I suppose that is true."

The evening carried on, you and Fred watching the insane event of a 'Banana derby' before spending time in a photo booth. Fred had never taken muggle pictures that stayed still. He was smiling at you in most of them. But something crazy happened. You smiled back at him once you realized he was looking at you and before either of you knew it, his lips were on yours. The last flash made you two aware of where you were. You let out a breathless laugh against his forehead. "This is absolutely wild." You said. "I tend to like wild." Fred said. "Well clearly, you just kissed me." You snorted. You climbed out, handing him a photo strip. Fred smiled and you put another strip in your wallet.

"Fred! Time to go!" Someone called. You shifted and he pressed a kiss to you one last time. You savored that feeling. The warmth, the hold he made sure he had on you to make you feel secure, his breath. All of it. "Fred!" Someone called again. "I'll get your address and write to you from Charlie." You said. "okay." He said with a slightly pained smile. He ran off and you shook your head with a smile.

Fred was positive he wasn't going to see you again though. After all... You weren't a wizard. You wouldn't be walking the halls of Hogwarts, you'd be somewhere in Scotland with your family. Fred seemed disappointed as he thought about it more. He wasn't going to see you again.

The day finally came when he sat at the breakfast table in the burrow. Charlie was there to spend time at home for a little while. "So I heard from a little bird that you got along with Y/n." Charlie said. "Yeah." Fred said, seeming sad at the mention. "She's a crazy girl that one, she wants to do what I do." Charlie said. "What fake job did you give her?" George asked. Charlie rose a brow confused. "Wait, she's not--" "Get the car ready Arthur, they've got to go soon." Molly said. "God I miss hogwarts." Charlie said. "Honestly, me too." Bill agreed. Fred got up, getting dressed and finishing packing.

The train ride was long and silent, his thoughts of course drifting to you. What was Charlie going to say before Molly cut him off? He swore for a couple of seconds he saw you on the platform. He knew that wasn't possible. He sat in the great hall, head on his hand. "Oh my God, Fred. Stop moping." George sighed. "Sorry." Fred said not thinking. Dumbledore went through the sorting of first years and he applauded in silence. "And before we begin the opening feast I'd like to introduce Gryffindor's newest member." The door opened behind Dumbledore and Fred's eyes widened as you brushed ash off your cloak. "Y/n L/n.... Uhm... What happened?" Dumbledore asked as you coughed out smoke. "Charlie Weasley happened." You said making a few people laugh.

Dumbledore used a quick cleaning spell and you were as good as new before you saw Fred. He swallowed, looking at you and you stepped down, him getting up and practically sprinting to you. He scooped you into his arms and you laughed. "Surprised?" You asked. "When the hell were you going to tell me you were a wizard!?" Fred asked, cupping your face. You furrowed your brow. "Charlie never told you-- I am kicking your brother's ass." You said making him laugh. "I work part time with your brother during the summers. I'm on a scholarship for dragon studies. You seriously haven't heard about the girl who has the weird friendships with the dragons?" You asked. "Oh my God that was you!?" Fred asked. "Yes!" You laughed before Fred scattered kisses across your face. You smiled and George blinked. "SHE'S REAL!?" he asked making Fred look over. "YES YOU MORON!" Fred said making you laugh hard.

He spent his morning showing you around, him keeping an arm around you, or holding your hand the entire time. Fred would sometimes just look at you. No talking. No comments. Just look. And he knew instantly by listening to you that you were the one.

Taglist: @amhyeah @newtaholic-staygold @bbeauttyybbx @fleurho @yodeadxss @mariah-can-dream

#fred weasley x you #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader

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sentinelstars · 4 years ago

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Enjoltaire fic

I got bored and I wrote a small Enjoltaire fic thing. Enjoy I guess!

“Cheers, I’ll drink to that,” Grantaire calls from across the room, where Enjolras has just finished a long diatribe on the rights of the citizen.

Enjolras, temporarily distracted from his idealism, turns to glare at Grantaire. The flames in Enjolras’s eyes threaten to burn the artist, but, truthfully, Grantaire is just grateful to have that fiery passion directed at him, if only for a fleeting moment.

“That statement means nothing from you, Grantaire, as you will drink to anything,” the revolutionary says coldly, turning away once again in order to continue his speech.

Grantaire simply cannot allow that. He feels himself growing cold from the absence of Enjolras’s attention already. “Perhaps it does mean nothing to you, Apollo, but I’ll continue nonetheless. Although wrong in all of your ideals, you are right about my drink. I am fond of it, and unashamed, and so, a drink to that!” He lifts his glass mockingly towards Enjolras, who is turning red with anger. Then, he downs another glass, prompting a few hesitant chuckles from those around him and a pat on the back from Bahorel.

“If only you were as devoted to the cause as you are to your drink, Grantaire,” replies Enjolras, clearly restraining himself from saying something worse.

Grantaire laughs loudly, pointing with the bottle in his left hand. “To the cause? No. But to you? My devotion to you far exceeds my fondness for alcohol, Apollo.”

Enjolras flinches, as he always does at that nickname and at displays of affection. Grantaire assumes it is pathological for somebody so emotionally constipated.

“I sincerely doubt that,” Enjolras finally says, apparently having no desire to continue this particular argument. The leader turns to Courfeyrac, who is stifling a laugh, and gestures for him to come over to discuss something. Courfeyrac has hardly even stood, though, when Grantaire is interrupting.

“Allow me to explain, dear leader. My life has not been easy. The world is cruel and doesn’t take kindly to people like me-“

“I-“ Enjolras begins to interrupt, eyebrows furrowing.

“No, I don’t want your pity or argument or whatever it is you plan on saying. Only listen, just once, Apollo. The world has broken me. I am but pieces. The alcohol allows me to forget; it blurs my fracture lines. But, alas, when I wake, I am reminded once again. Reminded that I am only rubble, nothing more. But you.” The artist says the last words so softly that Enjolras startles, not used to such quiet from the notoriously rowdy drunk. He looks at Grantaire and momentarily forgets where they are, forgets to form a rebuttal in his head, forgets to breathe. Enjolras simply listens as Grantaire continues.

“You, Apollo, make me feel whole. You are light, and warmth, and when I watch you speak, I feel healed. So yes, I am more devoted to you than I could ever be to my drink. Because while my drink allows me to forget I am broken, it is you who makes me whole.”

A long silence follows as Grantaire’s words sink in. Everyone appears stunned, and Jehan looks like they might melt, leaning against Feuilly dramatically. Interactions like these are common from Grantaire towards their leader, but this time, it appears to be more than drunken rambling. In fact, Grantaire has never looked more sober in his life as he gazes almost challengingly at Enjolras.

Enjolras is at a loss. He can’t seem to look away from Grantaire, or move, or say anything at all. Finally, he swallows and says, steadily as he can manage, “R- Grantaire,” he corrects quickly, obviously still flustered. “I have things to do. Matters to attend to. A meeting to run.”

Grantaire sighs, but the smile on his face remains, sad and sarcastic. “Obviously. You always do.”

“But,” Enjolras interrupts abruptly, looking seriously at Grantaire. “After the meeting. Stay behind. We have things to discuss.”

Grantaire hesitates, something he has never done before in answering Enjolras. Finally, he whispers, “As you wish,” in a strangled sounding voice.

Enjolras states him down for a bit longer, thinking, before nodding to himself, clearing his throat, and walking back towards Combeferre.

Grantaire turns back to the rest of his booth, where Joly, Bossuet, and Bahorel are staring at him with wide eyes. The stunned silence is eventually broken by Bossuet, who says, “Holy shit.”

They all laugh. “Holy shit is right,” Bahorel chuckles loudly, punching R in the shoulder. “I’m buying you a drink.”

“No thanks,” he replies, smiling lazily.

They all turn to him, even more stunned than before.

“Great,” Joly says, frowning. “Enjolras broke him.”

“I thought I had just expressed the opposite? I was always broken. Discovering Enjolras made me whole.” Grantaire says, grinning.

His companions make noises of disgust.

“Ugh, somebody call Jehan over here!”

“Or Pontmercy,”

“I’ll drink to that!”

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colesmemes · 4 years ago

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▸ UNHHHH ( YOUTUBE SERIES ) SENTENCES pt. 4

assorted quotes & prompts from katya and trixie’s iconic youtube series ( which may also include lines from their i like to watch series ). mature content and language may be used, feel free to adjust as necessary.

❝ i love myself, but i don’t like the way that i am. ❞

❝ have you ever woken up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, thinking everyone is going to discover that you’re a fraud ? i do this twice a week. ❞

❝ straight people are sick. ❞

❝ i act out scenes at my table, and i made myself cry three times yesterday. ❞

❝ no aspirations, no goals, no ambition . . . no bras, no panties. ❞

❝ i lie about saying that i’m fine when i’m literally dying. ❞

❝ you know what i still love doing ? french kissing my hand. ❞

❝ that little bit of human touch you just provided for me right now ? it’s got me incredibly lonely. ❞

❝ you liked to be dressed as the red flag you are. ❞

❝ i am so distracted by how good i look right now. ❞

❝ if you were straight, it would be awful. ❞

❝ doesn’t this feel like a boob ? ❞

❝ i know what to do with my life, i just don’t do it. ❞

❝ smoking is disgusting, don’t do it . . . and it’s my favorite thing to do. ❞

❝ if you marry your stepdad, do you become your own mom ? ❞

❝ what a sad life you live, old man in wig. ❞

❝ have you ever turned your wake into a kissing booth ? ❞

❝ i think we should quit while we’re ahead. ❞

❝ why can’t you let people live, you piece of shit ? ❞

❝ are you a resolutions kind of girl ? ❞

❝ i’m just trying to psychically, spiritually, and fashionably branch out. ❞

❝ please don’t eat in my car, sir. ❞

❝ you don’t know what i got, and i cut it half so there’s two of ‘em. ❞

❝ you make your bed everyday ? that’s funny, because i saw your bed the other day when i was in your apartment, and it was not made. ❞

❝ i invite you into my home, and you come to scope out my chores ? ❞

❝ yes, vegan means you can wear things in the shower. ❞

❝ before we start on this topic, i just want to acknowledge that i look great. and i just want to point this out, because you never do. ❞

❝ when i’m embarrassed, i want to stand in front of a pipe that’s going to melt my skin off. ❞

❝ nowadays i could piss my pants onstage and not get embarrassed. ❞

❝ i know what you did last summer, but i just don’t give a shit. ❞

❝ underwear: no one sees them, so why wear ‘em ? ❞

❝ well, i wasn’t doing carbon dating on the dick. ❞

❝ i'm just trying to be a warmer person this year. ❞

#indie rp meme #rp sentence starters #rp sentence memes #sentence memes #rph #pls know that these are the MOST fun memes to make

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pinkpastels113 · 4 years ago

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Burning Red- Chapter 4

Can be read as a one-shot.

Seeing as how I still have quite a few things in my life to do and don’t currently have the time to sit down and write the next chapter of BM, here’s the next chapter of the mood-fic that I've been trying to get done…

Thank you all so much for understanding and for your patience, and I’ll get to BM, AoA, and part two of Give Me a Shot as soon as I can.

Also, I don’t know if I have said this before or not, but this is a mood-fic, so each chapter is a different mood and don’t necessarily follow a specific/consecutive timeline, meaning if some chapters have Chloe pining for Beca and others have them being “couple-like,” it’s just cuz I believe that that dynamic is the best one for that particular “mood.”

With that being said, on with the show, and don’t be hesitant to let me know what you think!

Rating: T

Word Count: 1,769

Relationship: Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell

Summary: Chloe Beale is red. Red has different shades. Each one of them represent something completely different. But is different all that bad?

B/C. In progress. Rating subject to change.

On ao3 or ff.net or here... Find the first three chapters here.

(No excerpt because it is not that long and the whole thing is below anyways...)

Rose/Sleepy

Beca wakes to the quiet click of the bedroom door next door and to the feel of a hand sliding across the bare expanse of her stomach. She blinks, blearily, squinting against the morning light shining through the curtains of her bedroom window, and is just about to stretch when the hand on her stomach moves up and brushes against the underside of her breasts.

Jolting at the sudden sensation, Beca’s brain finally kicks into gear, and she quickly glances down the opening of the sheets covering her chest to see a movement under the thin material of her shirt. Even as she stares, trying to figure out what and how exactly the hand is doing/got there, it shifts once again—this time tracing against the line of her ribs—and a waft of faint floral shampoo fills her nose.

Chloe.

Beca lets out a shaky breath, and closes her eyes as she thinks back to the day before, to the events that had led to her redheaded best friend cuddling up to her in her bed in her room in Bella House early Monday morning.

Yesterday afternoon had come with a bright and heated sun, and combined with the excitement and sadness of Aubrey leaving the Bellas and moving out to do whatever she needed to do to move on with her life, the Bellas had suggested that they spend the day going to the beach and sending their former captain out with a last hurrah, and so Beca and Chloe had put on their bathing suits and agreed, and went out with the rest of the Bellas to spend the day and early last evening doing just that.

Obviously, Beca had avoided Chloe like the plague—since she is harboring a pathetic and hopeless crush and she had looked so damn delectable in her baby blue bikini set and wind swept red hair—and had absolutely refused to help her with the sunscreen on her back and shoulders when Chloe asked, not even five minutes in and under the scorching glare of the sun.

(Beca had taken great pride in doing so, especially when Chloe had doled out her signature puppy eyes and quivering pout.)

Apparently, Chloe had not asked anyone else to do it for her when Beca had said no, and had continued on sunbathing and swimming in the water, acting as if she did have the protection of the reflective product on her fair and sunburn prone skin.

(Beca had felt bad for refusing then, but was still proud of herself for not falling into the trap of rubbing her hands all over the silky expanse of her best friend’s body.)

Then, later that evening, when Chloe had winced as she sat down in the booth of the restaurant that they all had picked out for dinner, and Aubrey had noticed and furrowed her brows in worry, Beca had mentally slapped herself in the sudden realization that because of her flat out opposition to heed Chloe’s request and Chloe’s weird but stubborn unwillingness to go to one of the other Bellas for help, her back had been completely vulnerable under the harsh light of the sun, and is now (then) likely sunburnt and the reason for her gesture of pain as she laid gingerly back onto the seat of the booth.

(Her pride had sizzled out then, like a shake of a fire on a matchstick, and guilt had become a fast replacement, seizing her chest and clogging her throat, and Beca had alternated between hanging her head in shame—concentrating on digging into her food—and casting short but hopefully apologetic glances over to the giggling but inconspicuously flinching woman on her right.)

So, late last night, when it came time for everyone to go to bed and prepare for their classes the next day, Beca had not hesitated for even a second when Chloe knocked on her door and bit her lip and practically begged to sleep in her room—on the excuse that she was sad that Aubrey is now going to be miles away and she needs someone to act as a distraction for her impending emotions—and had nodded and pulled the sheets aside and scooted when Chloe shut the door and meekly made her way over.

(Beca had felt so sorry then, and would have done literally anything Chloe wanted her to do, even if that included her pushing aside her feelings and panic and allowing her to be a cuddle buddy for her best friend/crush/love of her life.)

So now—now that it’s morning and the events of the day before have fully manifested into Chloe dozing against her back and Beca discovering that the redhead is particularly handsy even at the early hours of the day—Beca is reluctant but anxious to get up, torn between not wanting to wake Chloe up with her activities and not wanting to allow herself to indulge in the feeling of having Chloe’s hands wander further, and she watches with bated breath and pounding pulse, as the lump of Chloe’s hand drifts from her ribs up through the valley of her bare chest.

Beca gasps, her arm twitching against her pillow, and then she’s suddenly removing Chloe’s hand from under her shirt and rolling off the side of her bed, heat rushing into her cheeks and between her legs as she looks frantically around for her dresser and new change of clothes, so she can dart into the bathroom and take a shower and wash off the scent and feeling of Chloe’s fingers dancing and gliding across her sensitive skin.

Locating the furniture in which she keeps her clean bras and underwear, Beca tip toes her way over, quickly but silently pulling out what she needs from the top and middle drawers, and runs into her closet to snatch a flannel and a pair of jeans before beelining her way to the bathroom door.

She closes and locks the door behind her, and lays her head briefly against the edge of the sink before stripping and stepping under the cold stream of the shower.

The water patters against the burn of her face, the jitter of her arms, the flutter of her chest; the cold temperature soothing the warm aftermath of Chloe’s fingertips sliding on her stomach, and Beca sighs as she lays a hand on the shower wall, absolutely refusing to relieve the tension wounding up the nerves in her body in her sudden desired way when the subject of it is laying just outside the bathroom door.

Timing herself at around five or so-ish minutes, Beca turns off the water and steps out, wrapping a towel tightly around her body and reaching for the materials to brush her teeth and wash her face once she has succeeded in making her way over to the sink and wiping the residue off the accompanying mirror.

Once she is done with everything in her list of her usual morning routine, Beca unwraps the towel and tosses it aside and dresses herself in the clothing that she had hastily put together in the presence of the dozing redhead in her bed. Buttoning the last button on her flannel, she glances into the mirror one last time before gathering up her things and opening the door, dumping the bundle in her arms into the hamper in her room.

“Beca?”

Beca jumps, glancing over her shoulder to the source of the tired and raspy voice, and despite all the chemical reactions still happening throughout her entire being, she still finds it within herself to dole out a soft and gentle smile.

“Hey.”

Chloe squints at her, her hair tousled and her back resting against the headboard, looking like she is caught between the haze of sleep and the awareness of consciousness, and she yawns, before scratching a hand under her pajama shirt and mumbling, “Where’re you going?”

Beca gulps, eyes taking in the way the early morning light bounces off messy red curls, her feet seemingly magnetized to the beautiful sight right there in her room, and she sits at the edge of the mattress, “I’m going to class, Chlo.”

Unfocused blue orbs blink slowly behind half-mast eyelids, and there's a rosy red hue dusting across her face and neck and what Beca could make out of her shoulders and back, and Beca has to lean in to catch her next words, “Why do you have to go?”

She flits her gaze uncertainly and confusedly between Chloe’s eyes and feverish disposition, concern suddenly taking hold in her heart, palms pushing into the soft sheets under her hands as she shuffles closer still to her unnaturally bleary and sleepy best friend, “Because I don’t want to be behind and risk spending less time with you and the rest of the Bellas.”

Chloe shakes her head and reaches for her, burying her face into the crook of Beca’s neck, and Beca is shocked at the burning temperature of her skin, “No. Stay, Beca. I don’t want you to go.”

Beca’s hands instinctively leap to tangle in Chloe’s hair, and she drags herself further onto the bed when Chloe crawls into her lap and wraps her legs around her waist, her eyes dropping to the slit at the back of Chloe’s pajama shirt, and she softly curses at the redness covering the expanse of Chloe’s back, the guilt from last night once again hitting her at full force, “Chloe, I think you’re sick.”

“I don’t care,” her voice puffs into her ear, weak and faint, “I just want you to stay. Stay, please, Becs. I don’t want you to leave me, too.”

Beca’s heart clenches in on itself and drops several feet, and she hastily nods and cradles the exhausted and sunburnt redhead tighter against her chest, her legs giving out and her heels digging into the mattress, and she says, “Of course, Chloe. Of course I’ll stay. I won’t ever leave you.”

Because she couldn’t leave her, not when Chloe is hot and feverish and it was all her fault.

Because it was her fault that she refused to give in to Chloe’s request, too scared and self-protective to just take the damn sunscreen and smooth its contents over the places on her skin that she found it hard to reach.

Because it was her fault that Chloe is now acting this way, needy and desperate for her to promise to be endlessly by her side.

Because it was her fault that Chloe is now having to live with the fact that rose red to her is to be mind-numbingly and feverishly sleepy.

---

Um… yeah. Let me know what you think and I’ll see you for another? (Or whatever comes next?)

#bechloe #bechloe fanfic #bechloe fanfiction #bechloe oneshot #pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfiction #beca x chloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #bechloe fluff #light angst #mood fic #updating #mine #I should be doing something productive but that can wait #see you guys for whatever comes next

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arigatouiris · 5 years ago

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all for you // iwaizumi hajime x reader

Author’s Note: This is a soulmate AU and I’ve always wanted to work on one~ Why I chose Hajime is because I adore him to death and gah he’s just so perfect for this scenario— Or maybe I don’t see him like everyone else does. Thank you all for being so kind to my other works, you really have no idea how much this motivates me? Please keep letting me know what you think, I think I can turn this quarantine feeling around if you guys help me out! Thanks a bunch, I’m really grateful. :”)

Word count: 3125

Pairing: SOULMATE AU! Iwaizumi Hajime x Reader

Warnings: angst to fluff, lots of fluff, mentions of bullying, ignorant parents

You don’t remember exactly when it started, but you could pin it around your 9th birthday or something.

It was the first time you discovered that your soulmate played volleyball. You never told your parents about it, considering how distant they were about everything. It wasn’t as if they were mean to you, it’s just that they gave you a feeling that they didn’t care, and maybe they didn’t? No one in the world knew you had a volleyball player as a soulmate and you had made the discovery only because your close friend was in the girl’s volleyball team. Seeing her palms red and bruised only led you to pin a similar feeling in your own palms, and there you had it.

You wondered what pain you were giving your soulmate in return. It’s true, you could feel what your soulmate was feeling—injuries more than anything else, but you weren’t an athlete. The most you ever felt with respect to pain were a few paper cuts here and there and they weren’t even painful to you, so you knew your existence didn’t even make a difference to your soulmate.

But damn, your soulmate never missed a day of practice. Eventually, as you grew, the stinging stopped—and you even read about what you can do to ease the numbness in your palms after a game. You bought an assortment of hand-creams and moisturised your skin everyday, hoping that your soulmate would at least notice this effort from your end. However, you’d not know if they noticed unless they told you themselves but you don’t know if that’ll happen anytime soon. It wasn’t as if you’d given up finding them, there were other factors in your life that demanded more attention.

You hiss as you head to the washroom of your school, knowing that your soulmate must be practising again. Heading inside the booth, you sit on the toilet seat and let out a breath. Your hands are shaking now, not only because of the pain, but because of what was to come.

“Check the stalls,” A voice sounded from the bathroom outside and your eyes widened. “She must be here.”

You never knew this was how your high school life would go. You never realized that being bullied could come down to such low levels. Not only did you agree to everything Junko asked you to do, but you never said a word in edgewise. Your eyes teared up, knowing that she was going to find you again, and do something again.

“Ah,” You heard her raspy voice, “This is where you are, (l/n)-chan!”

A second later, you expected the door to fling open and for her to grab you by your collar and shake you with some nasty words. When the door didn’t open, your eyes widened. Looking up to the top of the booth, you quickly shut your eyes for what was to come. Junko had a bucket of water and she turned it around, the water completely soaking you—your uniform and your shoes. Only laughter could be heard after that, your whimpering form forgotten, and the last words you heard Junko say were,

“Just make sure you don’t score more than I do in anything, okay?”

You sat there for a second more before pressing your hands to your face and crying. You knew you didn’t deserve this, and you knew that there was nothing you could do. You couldn’t tell your parents, because not once in their life have they asked you how your day went or even if they loved you. You couldn’t tell your best friend because your school’s team was finally practicing for inter-high.

What you didn’t notice was how suddenly the stinging had stopped. It was as if your soulmate had paused practice because they knew what was happening with you, and through their silence they were saying something you couldn’t understand.

However, you didn’t notice it though.

“Iwa-chan?”

Oikawa blinked as Iwaizumi suddenly rushed to the side of the court, a nasty scowl on his face. The team stopped practice midway, but only Oikawa knew that this expression on Hajime meant that it was related to his soulmate. Hajime rarely spoke about his soulmate, if Oikawa was being honest, but there were some occasions where he’d let some details slip.

Like how sad they were almost all the time, or how Hajime would sometimes forget to moisturize his hands before he went to bed, but would wake up to find fully moisturized hands either way. Oikawa used to tease him about how caring his soulmate was, but seeing a nasty look on Hajime didn’t rest too well.

“Is it them again?”

Hajime nodded, before sighing. He couldn’t understand what it was, but it felt as if someone had poured a bucket of water on you, and you definitely weren’t ready for it. And since it was right after school, he knew only one plausible explanation was possible.

“They’re being bullied.” Hajime’s voice was low, but Oikawa caught what he said.

“That’s...” He didn’t know how to respond.

Hajime sighed before wondering if you were at least in his school. It was wishful thinking, seeing how the chances of that happening are very slim. Shaking his head, he stared into his palm before feeling helplessness rush into his system. How can you miss someone you don’t even know? This whole soulmate system was downright idiotic.

As soon as practice was done, Oikawa and Iwaizumi were ready to leave instantly. They didn’t have a game coming, but the practice that day was particularly intense. Iwaizumi couldn’t stop thinking about the water incident, and only wondered how easy it’d have been if he’d already met you. You could tell him what was happening and he’d at least comfort you. Whoever you were, Hajime was sure that the problem to solve his own helplessness was to offer assistance to you, and seeing how that wasn’t happening was slowly ruining him.

He didn’t realize that he was drowning out Oikawa’s words in the subway that evening. Hajime was staring intensely into nothing, feeling bad for you, not knowing who you were.

“Iwa-chan! Look!”

Iwaizumi blinked before turning around and looking at where Oikawa was pointing. There, in another cabin in the subway, stood you—soaked from top to bottom, clutching your bag in your hand, your (h/c) hair sticking to your head and your eyes staring at nothing. Hajime’s heart raced at the mere sight of how sad you looked, but swallowed your appearance in like you were going to be asked in the exams. Every cell in Hajime’s body was screaming that you were his happily ever after, and there you stood, only a few meters away, separated by an electric door.

“Iwa-chan! You have to speak to her! She might be the—”

The train suddenly stopped, and Hajime’s eyes widened as you rushed to walk out. It wasn’t his stop yet, but he’d seen your uniform, he’d seen the color of your hair and the color of your eyes. He’d even seen the stop you’d get down at, exactly three stops before his own; he was tempted to run after you, but he knew he wasn’t the sort to recklessly jump out like that. Oikawa looked puzzled, but Iwaizumi had his own plans. He turned away, a soft smile on his lips, and thought of the next time he’d see her now that he had a face.

It was safe to say that Iwaizumi was instantly captivated. A hundred questions crowded in his mind. He wanted to know who you were, why you were there, if you liked sugar in your tea, had you climbed trees as a child. The flood of curiosity puzzled him. He usually managed to avoid caring about anyone long enough to ask questions about him. Iwaizumi wanted to laugh at how silly this all sounded in his head—he had heard of the impact soulmates have on each other upon meeting, but he hadn’t met you yet.

“Why’d you let her go?”

He couldn’t really answer Oikawa’s question that evening. He wasn’t sure. Some part of him knew you wanted to be left alone after today, but some part of him also wanted to go up to you and tell you that you’re not alone. Some part of him wanted to tell you of the impression you’ve left on him without even having met each other yet. You honestly had no idea of your impact. You were, safe to say, oblivious. That was the power you had over Hajime. Seeing you made him question what he was doing, what he wanted, what he desired, what he could do. Not just in the moment. But what he had been doing that lead him to this point, why he was there, in a crowded subway train, his hands dirty and sore from practice. Hajime’s whole life, he could not remember anyone’s name right away. Nothing had made a formative impact on him. But right then he thought that might change.

If he knew your name, he would most definitely remember it. That’s what you did, even before he met you—you had changed things. There you were, preoccupied, bent down, oblivious, clutching your bag to your chest, feeling low after a terrible day. He knew you were the one. He was meant for you. He saw you, and right then, his life began.

It wasn’t until you reached home did you feel it.

A weird warmth despite how drenched you were. It was as if someone had wrapped a blanket over you. You paused before entering the shower to find how you weren’t catching a cold, how your hair was frictionless, how the apparent wetness all over you almost never happened.

Strange, you thought as you stared at your palms. They aren’t stinging.

There was no possible way your soulmate knew you were drenched. No one had seen you exit your school, no one who knew you even saw you after that, so there was no way your soulmate knew what had happened. Maybe they were feeling cold? There was no possible way you could answer this. You left it aside thinking it was merely just coincidence, and focused on the bath.

However, that wasn’t the last time. You noticed in the next couple of days that this person, whoever they were, was taking care of themselves a little harder than usual. Skin was perfectly moisturised, the practice sessions continued, but they would take more breaks than usual, and strangely, Mondays were a day off.

Strangely, the bucket incident happened to you on a Monday too.

It couldn’t all be coincidences, right? You wanted to believe it wasn’t. You wanted to believe this person wanted to take care of you, just as you had been taking care of them silently. You gulped when you moisturised your fingers, pausing in between, blushing at random points, just thinking of this person who you haven’t met yet. You wanted to hope, you wanted to ensure that there was nothing wrong in wanting someone because all your life you’ve not had it. You’ve not had someone ask how your day went, you’ve not had someone notice when you wanted to be left alone. You wanted to believe it wasn’t a coincidence because what harm can come from it being one? You haven’t met them yet, and you have time to prepare yourself for the truth till then.

“(y/n)-chan!” Your friend pounced on you as you approached her that morning.

Apparently your school girls’ volleyball team was playing against the girls’ team from Seijoh, and you knew your friend was excited. You’d agreed to go along with her to watch the game, secretly knowing everything there is to know about volleyball because of a certain someone.

“You look pumped up.” You commented on your friend’s hyperactive nature.

“Seijoh’s a strong team. Apparently, the boys’ team is going to watch too! Have you even looked at Oikawa-san? He’s so dreamy~”

You rolled your eyes.

“What about your soulmate?”

“I don’t know who it is yet, so everyone’s eye candy.”

Your friend was very entertaining indeed.

Seijoh’s volleyball court was huge, and you could see the girls practice from a distance. You had to go stand at the bleachers, waving at your friend as you headed up there alone. You blinked when you noticed a few boys to the other side, wondering if they were the boys team that your friend had mentioned. Suddenly, you thought of your soulmate—who normally would be practicing at this time, but strangely, they weren’t. Your hand wasn’t stinging, and you wondered what they were doing at the time.

When the game began, you felt someone watching you. You turned to the boys’ to your side and noticed that they were all intently watching the game, but there was a rather attractive brown haired individual who kept stealing glances from you. You cocked your eyebrow, wondering if something was on your face, but paid no heed to it.

Suddenly, the ball went up in the air—causing your eyes to widen; the ball was coming closer to where you stood, so you went ahead and grabbed the ball—the impact slightly stinging your palm.

“(y/n)-chan! Nice catch!”

You chuckled before throwing it back to your friend, suddenly feeling eyes on you once again. This time you turned with a curious gaze and found that same brown haired male staring at you with admiration.

“Is... Is something the matter?”

“Iwa-chan! She’s talking to me—”

“Shut up, Trashykawa!”

You blinked at the other individual, whose face seemed aggressive. His eyes met yours, only for a moment, before he turned away and cleared his throat, and this ‘Trashykawa’ giggled like a little girl while standing beside him. You turned to look at the game once more.

Suddenly, your eyes widened when you felt a slight pressure against the palm of your right hand. The palm that grabbed the ball a second ago. Your heart began to beat quickly, and you stared at your palm—almost as if someone was applying pressure to the area to soothe the growing numbness.

No way.

You turned to your left and he was suddenly not there. Trashykawa was, and he eagerly pointed to the exit. You offered him a kind smile before hesitantly following after the brash looking individual, who had been secretly taking care of you so well the past few days.

When you exited the gym and took the stairs down, you noticed this person walking ahead at a rather quick pace.

“Excuse me!” you said, still holding your palm.

The person sighed before stopping at his tracks. He turned around and looked at you, and his heart caught in his throat again. This was certainly not how he was expecting to see you, not to mention how surprised he was to even see you at his school. You went over to him and stood there for a second longer, just a few steps away from him. You wanted to make sure first.

You pinched your hand as hard as you could and saw him wince before snapping, “What the hell was that for?”

“So it is you...”

His eyes widened before he cleared his throat. He didn’t know what to say.

“How... You took care of me all this while.” You said, tears filling your eyes.

“You started it.”

“How did you know?”

Iwaizumi knew exactly what you were talking about. He looked into your eyes carefully, not spotting a single bit of sorrow in them now that they were facing you.

“I saw you in the train. Drenched from top to bottom. It... It was hard to see. I knew you were... I knew it was a difficult day for you.”

“Why didn’t you approach me?”

“I thought you needed space.” He said, shrugging.

Your eyes widened a tad bit. It was true. You did need space. You weren’t sure how you would have responded that day, but he had been slowly taking care of you ever since.

“Thank you...”

Iwaizumi didn’t know what to say. He looked at you, smiling at him, and his heart couldn’t take it. You couldn’t keep from staring at him—so exotic was this creature before you, with chocolate brown eyes and a face you look lick candy off of. It was as if a door had opened and you had walked through it. Everything behind you had fallen into a deep abyss and you could never retrace your steps to that boy, the one with unruly hair and bruised palms. What solitude you had lived in. Your world expanded with this boy, here in Seijoh, and it was all very new looking. Then, realizing your intense staring, you were flooded with a newfound embarrassment and your eyes widened, your heart beating in big thumps.

“My name is Iwaizumi Hajime,” He said, noticing your embarrassment. “And you?”

“(l/n) (y/n).” Your voice was meek and you wanted to slap yourself.

Hajime smiled at you before taking a deep breath.

“If I touch you, there’s no backing out.”

You gulped. You nodded a second later. Your heart was going to jump out of your chest. You expected him to shake your hand or ruffle your hair. You least expected what came next.

Hajime wrapped one hand around your waist and pressed you to his chest, smelling your hair in the process. He wasn’t sure if you would mind, he wasn’t sure if you would push him away, but something in his heart told him that you needed a hug.

“I’m sorry if I overstep—”

You stopped his apology midway when you wrapped your hands around his waist.

“Thank you, Iwaizumi-san.”

It was strange; you felt like you knew him really well despite this being the first time you met him. You two had been taking care of each other so well for the past few months that there was no strangeness here.

“I thought it was all a coincidence. That... that you had no—”

“It wasn’t. I was doing it for you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your grip on Hajime tightened. This man was your soulmate. Nothing else mattered.

When Hajime pulled away, he gave you a sweet smile, a smile only meant for you. You returned the smile, not noticing your hand in his, the numbness spread across both your palms.

“Next time anyone pours a bucket of water over your head—”

“I won’t sit around and take it, I promise.” You finished his sentence, almost knowing what he had to say.

Hajime nodded, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Or I’ll personally have to infiltrate your school. And I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You can’t miss practice.”

He chuckled at your comment.

“Yeah, I can’t miss practice.”

Slowly, you were going to know everything there was to know about Iwaizumi Hajime. And he was going to know everything about you. But, for a start, this wasn’t so bad.

#iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x reader #hajime x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime x you #oikawa toru #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #reader insert #aobajosei #aobajosei x reader #seijoh x reader #iwaizumi headcanons

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thepencilnerd · 5 years ago

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maybe we’re just | not |meant to be

➵ absolute value [ab·so·lute val·ue] (n.) the magnitude of a quantity, irrespective of sign; the distance of a quantity from zero.

➵ pairing: min yoongi x reader

➵ This was not the first time you’d met Min Yoongi. In fact, you had encountered him throughout many of your previous lifetimes—and yet unbeknownst to either of you, fate was hard at work trying to keep you together as much as destiny was trying to pull you apart. Maybe in another life, another time, another world, another universe...

How many chances did you get until you were finally granted the opportunity be with your soulmate? Would there ever come a time when both of you could find peace in this never ending cycle of life and death—or will the two of you be at the mercy of space and time, forever swimming along the cosmos in search of one another?

➵ genre: definitely a soulmate/multiple past lives AU, love triangle, fluff, heavy angst, bit of historical fiction, modern timeline, time jumps, alternate/parallel universes

➵ warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, fighting, blood, terminal illness, main character death

➵ word count: 15.9k

a/n: brainstormed this over the course of four hours and started writing on May 2nd :’) please have tissues

The first time you had met was at the fall festival. Each year, your parents were adamant on being the hosts and holding the gala at the palace. Your dress, tailored by your dearest friend, sparkled bright red against the warm glow of the paper lanterns that decorated the path. The festival was alive underneath a beautiful autumn sky, and the vibrant sound of the town’s laughter and jester music echoed throughout the quiet night.

As you were walking past the booth where children were bobbing for apples, there he was. You saw him first, of course. He wore a plain blue mask and a black cape, undetectable to any non-speculative passerby but you. Even behind his seemingly plain mask, your gaze met his the same moment his eyes locked onto yours.

Despite having a fully decorated mask with gemstones, gold lace, and the works to cover your entire face, his stare pierced through yours with the strength of a thousand daggers. His face didn’t ring a bell, not in the slightest—but he felt all too familiar.

You found out later that he was the son of the town’s blacksmith.

“Min Yoongi.” His name rolled off of your tongue like melted candle wax, coating every syllable with another layer of intrigue and curiosity. “Min. Yoongi. Yoongi...” You rested the tips of your fingers over your mouth while repeating each word, feeling how every small muscle twinged and produced the lovely sound that was his name.

His hand traced an invisible swirl along your skin, following the curve of your shoulder down to forearm and then to your hand. “______,” he spoke softly. You opened your eyes to see Yoongi lying parallel to you, the small distance between you no bigger than an arm’s reach away.

“______...” He spoke in an even quieter voice this time, afraid that if he said your name in vain that you would evaporate into thin air and leave him—all alone. Your name sounded like poetry as it danced across his lips.

Reaching over to him, your fingertips gently brushed over his lower lip as he continued to say your name. Even though he’d visited your chambers hours before, it paled in comparison to the intimate moment you were sharing now.

He lifted his hand up to your face carefully, brushing the soft skin of your cheek before settling on your cupid’s bow. Mirroring each others actions as you called each other’s name one after another, your voices slowed to a series of silenced murmurs as you lulled each other to sleep.

“Do you love him?”

Hidden underneath his anger, the hurt in his voice began bleeding through his words. You turned around to face him. His face was clear despite the pitch black darkness of the night, and his eyes glimmered in the moonlight.

“Do you love him?” he repeated, louder this time as he began walking toward you. The breeze was refreshing as it blew past the trees, rustling the leaves in its wake and causing his scent to surround you. Grabbing your hands, he gently cradled them in his; they were always so warm. He brought them close to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to them, the wetness of his tears trailing down the back of your hand.

You cupped his face and brought him closer to you, his hands still wrapped around yours and heartbeat so loud you could feel it thump against yours.

“No.” Your mouth felt like it was glued shut, but somehow you finally managed to speak. “No I don’t love him. I never have and I never will, Yoongi.” Each word stung more than the last.

He sniffled, biting his lip as his shoulders began shaking slightly.

“Yoongi,” you started while you held back tears of your own. “I love you so much.”

His knees buckled from beneath him as he kneeled by your feet, clutching desperately at your legs as if it were the last thing anchoring him on this earth. You felt the warmth of his tears seep through the material of your dress, breaking off another piece of your already shattered heart.

Kneeling down to comfort him, he couldn’t hold back the wash of tears after what came next. “But I have to marry him...”

You couldn’t do anything except hold him. Nothing you say would make him feel better; nothing you did would ever help him heal from the scars you gave him; nothing would ever be the same.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry, Yoongi. I’m sorry...” Enveloping each other in a hug so tight it seemed to shut out even the cold wind, you felt tears of your own trail down your face. He held you tighter, burying his nose into the crook of your neck and memorizing every little part of you before—

“I love you,” he said. “I love you, ______. I know he will never be able to make you happy or love you the way that I do, but I love you and I don’t care if you marry him. No matter how long it takes, I will wait for you even in death.”

You couldn’t find it in your heart to speak, knowing you would burst into a wailing mess of screams and tears, and the last thing either of you needed was to be discovered by the royal guard. You began shaking at the realization that this was really it; this was the last you’d ever see him, hold him in your arms, kiss him, touch him—be with him.

Grasping the sides of his face, you pressed your lips against his for the last time. The salt from both of your tears mixing with the taste that was entirely him felt bittersweet. “I will wait for you, Min Yoongi,” you promised. “Even if I have to find you across in life, I will find you and we’ll be happy together.”

Before sharing one last kiss, he took your hand and put it over his chest. The pronounced beating of his heart made your vision watery again. “Promise.” It wasn’t a request or a question—it really was a promise.

Blinking back your tears, you brought his free hand over your chest and held it close. “I promise.”

“Large stack of pancakes no butter or whipped cream and a hot coffee!” Gustav shouted, the small bell on the kitchen counter ringing like the telephone.

Grabbing the piping hot plate, you piled it on your forearms with the rest of your orders and hustled to get them to their tables.

“Small kid’s meal with a side of fruit salad, an old fashioned with extra bacon, and an egg-white breakfast omelette with no tomatoes,” you recited cheerily, handing out each of the plates to the family sat at their table. “Enjoy!”

Thanking you, you whizzed by table after table until your arms were colored a bright red and indented with marks from the weighty plates. It was only lunch and you were already feeling the anxiety of rush hour at the diner. You were grateful when the giant bell finally rang from the cash register, signaling your break.

“Hey ______, do you mind pouring this man a fresh cup of joe?” Marcie called over, waving to you from the opposite end of the aisle. With one hand wrapped around the phone wire and the other punching numbers into the cash register, you ran over as quickly as you could to help.

You grabbed a freshly brewed pot from the machine and poured it into the mug, still warm from being fresh out of the dishwasher. “Any cream or sugar?” you asked the man hunched over the lunch counter with newspaper in hand.

“None, thank you,” he replied curtly. “Black is fine.”

Raising your brow at the voice, you turned around and set the cup down in front of him. The newspaper was fully opened and covered the entirety of his face. Assuming it was just your brain tricking you, you tapped Marcie on the shoulder and pointed to the back door. reminding her that it was your lunch break. Shooing you away, you grinned and wiped your hands before taking off your apron.

The quick rustle of paper crumpling was the last sound you heard before you were out the door.

“What was her name?” Yoongi asked Marcie who was still on hold with the real estate brokers. He kept the newspaper half-folded in one hand.

“Huh?” she replied. “Oh! That’s ______. Been working with us for a while. Real nice gal. Sad to see her go.”

Yoongi let out a bored ‘hmph’ and drank his coffee. There was something oddly magnetizing about you that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. “She found a new job?”

Marcie took a few more notes down with her finger held up at Yoongi, bidding him to wait. He sipped in silence.

“Yeah, she finally got that job she’d been pining for on the east coast. Where was it... some banking company or stock market businessy title, can’t remember,” she rambled. “Today’s her last day.”

After a few seconds without a response, Marcie looked up and saw the young man in a daze. “Why? Cat got your tongue?” she joked.

He shook his head, coming back to his senses. “No, nothing. I just thought I saw her somewhere.” Covering his nosy curiosity with a mutter, Yoongi ignored his accelerating pulse.

“Bad timing I guess,” Marcie sighed, sensing the disappointment in his voice.

Without a second thought, Yoongi’s fist clenched the grayscale paper as it let out a satisfying crunch. Marcie’s eyes widened at this, making him clear his throat awkwardly.

"Sorry, finger cramps,” he stuttered. “I should get back to the office.” Gathering his coat, Yoongi tossed all the spare coins he had into the tip jar and left the diner. For some reason, he didn’t feel like eating lunch there ever again.

“Happy Birthday!!” you screamed in unison with all of your friends.

The lights flickered on, revealing a stone-faced Yoongi and overexcited, freeze framed Hoseok right behind him. After a few moments of awkward silence, the delayed sound of Namjoon’s popper going off made everyone burst into laughter.

Seokjin facepalmed. “Really, Namjoon?” Jimin and Taehyung shook their heads like disappointed children scolding an adult.

Yoongi was holding back a childish grin. “Thanks guys.” Even though his reaction was sub-par than what you expected for a surprise party, you smiled.

“Let’s cut the cake!” Hoseok shouted as if he were already on a sugar high.

Turning on the stereo, Jimin, Taehyung, Jungkook, Seokjin, Namjoon and Hoseok began dancing like they were already in college. Admissions decisions were coming out next week and you all needed to relax. Luckily, Yoongi’s birthday was right around the corner and posed as the perfect opportunity to get together.

Laughing at the six boys’ and their antics, Yoongi walked over to you with a smug grin. “I told you I suck at reacting.” Popping open a bottle of mini-champagne you splurged on just for today, you handed one to him before opening your own.

“What can I say,” you shrugged, taking a drawn-out sip before continuing. “If it means we can all spend one more crazy night together, it’s worth it in my book.”

Yoongi sighed. “Why do you always talk like we’re going far away and never seeing each other again? We’re all staying in-state for tuition.” He took another swig before finishing his thought bubble. “None of us can even afford dorms, meals, or apartments anyway.”

You smiled at his seemingly naïve outlook on the situation. “Yoongi, we all know Jimin and Hoseok are already set for scholarships in NYC. Taehyung and Seokjin probably have acting gigs booked that they’re keeping a secret until the graduation, and Jungkook and Namjoon talked about how they wanted to go to Europe for a gap year.”

Yoongi clenched his jaw at the reality that washed over him like cold water. “We’ll be okay. As long as you’re staying here with me, these—” he paused to gesture at the group of boys messing around like a pack of wild animals. “—dingbats are the least of my worries.”

Your ears perked at his choice of words. “I worry you?” you asked, voice going two octaves too high for your comfort. His hand stopped mid-air while bringing the bottle to his lips, only then realizing the weight his words carried.

Clearing his throat harshly, you felt heat rise up your throat and pink dust your cheeks. It was the alcohol, right?

“We’ve been best friends for 18 years,” he defended. “Knowing how clumsy preschool you was and how stupid high school you can be, of course I’m worried about you.”

More color began rushing into your face. You chugged more of your drink to convince anyone else who’d ask you what was wrong that it was the alcohol, not your best friend’s words making you feel—no. You were friends. Best friends. Don’t blow anything out of proportion.

“Right back at you muffin man,” you winked, the alcohol giving you a bit more confidence than you usually had. Shooting you a gummy smile, you clinked your glasses together and felt the buzz flood your senses.

“Yoongi! ______!” Taehyung called from across the room. “Stay cheese!” Holding up his polaroid, the flash caught you off guard. Yoongi’s arm came up reflexively to shield your eyes, making your heart flutter even more. Note to self: expensive alcohol equals stronger alcohol.

Of course that wasn’t fucking true, not in the slightest.

Jungkook and the others groaned, chanting in unison for one more picture.

“Why not a group picture assholes?” Yoongi scoffed. “It’s my birthday so I get all the birthday wishes granted.”

Seokjin tsked. “Because you two look cute together and it’s an au naturale setting!” Giving into their relentless pleas, you wrapped your arm around Yoongi’s waist and gave the camera a goofy smile. Taken aback by your sudden physical contact, Yoongi’s heartbeat picked up at lighting speed. You could hear it through the thin fabric of his shirt.

The guys howled again. “Yoongi!” Jimin whined. “Come on! It’s just a quick picture!” Slinging his arm over your shoulder, you could’ve sworn he pulled you in closer for the shot. He rested his cheek on the top of your head and you felt his muscles pull into the gummy smile you had memorized by heart.

Taehyung snapped a picture as quickly as he could, but groaned after shaking the developed photo. “Shoot, my finger was covering part of the lens. One more, I promise!”

Yoongi let out a huff. Looking up at him, he lowered his chin and stared back at you. You never noticed how—pretty—he was until now. His eyes were more angular than you remembered, but his lips remained the same from when you were kids. He’d always pout whenever he got in trouble for playing too rough with the other guys.

You’ll never forget when he shoved Hoseok down the slide in 2nd grade and went on time out for the entire duration of lunch. Innocent 7-year old you felt bad for your best friend and snuck him the other half of your PB&J when the teacher wasn’t looking. This didn’t go unpunished of course, as you soon found yourself in the same time out corner as Yoongi. Strangely enough, you weren’t angry in the slightest.

The annoyed expression on his face slowly melted into one you struggled to map. Focused? Shocked? Surprised? Happy? Was there something smudged on your face? The edges of his lips formed into a gentle smile and he parted his lips to say—

“3, 2, 1!” the boys shouted in unison before the loud click of a camera shutter sounded again.

“God, I feel like I’m going to puke.” Your heart felt like it was going to dig itself out of your ribcage and run a marathon. “Why am I so nervous?” Fiddling with your fingers to try and calm your anxiety by shaking your hands around vigorously, Klaire grabbed you by the shoulders and looked at you with a wide eyes.

“______.” Her usually quiet voice was now firm, but still gentle. “Calm down. Breathe for me. I don’t need you hyperventilating in your dress.”

Letting out a deep breath you trapped inside your lungs for what seemed like hours, you closed your eyes and tried to steady the relentless pounding that was your heart rate.

“You’re marrying the love of your life,” she reminded. “You’re just excited.”

You gulped another welling bubble that came up your throat. No matter how many times you tried swallowing, your throat was as dry as a desert. You couldn’t drink water either because it was your mother’s wonderful idea to get a wedding dress with a corset. Talk about old fashioned, right?

“Were you this nervous for your wedding? Would you be this nervous?” The questions slipped out instinctively before you could stop them. “Like pit at the bottom of your stomach that feels like it’s ripping through your guts and weighing you down to the dark depths of hell?”

Klaire laughed at your ever-ornate vernacular that remained even when you were stressed out. “I’d be nervous if somewhere deep inside my heart, I knew he wasn’t ‘the one’.” Air-quoting the last part of her sentence, she patted the baby hairs that had been tussled during your mini fit.

The words sliced through your foggy mind like a hot knife, making your eyes widen and the color of your face wash out.

Seeing your reaction, she was quick to reassure you. “But you love him and he loves you! I promise, ______, you’re just excited. I was nervous on my wedding day!” She overemphasized her words and clasped her chest to try and be more convincing. “You’re getting married for God’s sake! It’s normal to be nervous!”

You needed to sit down. “Yeah...” A dry laugh escaped your lips. “I’m getting married.”

Three knocks sounded from the door. Turning around, you saw a familiar group of heads poke through the open crack. “Well, well, well,” the youngest smirked. “Look who it is.”

The corners of your lips curled into the biggest smile you’d mustered all day. “You guys!” Getting up, you ran over to Seokjin, Namjoon, Jimin, Hoseok, and Yoongi as fast as you could with the heels you had on. They brought you in for a group hug, being careful not to get tangled in your veil or snag your dress.

Klaire left the room as discreetly as she could, mentioning something about a cake or the balloons needing some double-checking.

“You look beautiful,” Jimin complimented, a genuine smile lighting up his eyes.

Seokjin had his hand clasped over his mouth, purposely overreacting to make you laugh and calm your nerves. “Who are you and what have you done with ______?”

Shaking their heads at the eldest’s incessant rapport for comedy, Yoongi refrained from elbowing his side.

“You do look really amazing, ______.” Namjoon also smiled, keeping his hands behind his back to not cause any accidents. Knowing him, it was a miracle Jimin didn’t bring cable ties with him as backup.

“Is it too late to ask you to marry me?” Hoseok chirped. Winking at you, you scoffed and shook your head, containing your laughter as you shoved his shoulder playfully.

Yoongi remained still, his eyes still scanning over your attire. Noticing how silent he was, the four cleared their throats all at once, snapping him out of his trance. Looking up and around at the guys, his eyes honed in on you.

“Yeah,” he agreed blindly. “You look—great. Stunning.”

Hoseok and the guys sensed the tension in the room. “I think we should go check up on Jungkook to see if he needs any help,” Jimin filled in. “God knows if he knows how to work a mic at his first announcer gig, right?”

The others chuckled and told you they’d see you at the reception. Giving them one more hug and bidding them goodbye, it was just you and Yoongi left in the room. Taking a seat on the couch, you ushered him over to sit beside you.

Instead, Yoongi opted to sit in the empty chair across the sofa. You couldn’t help but feel hurt by his pseudo passive aggressive decision. He seemed more quiet than usual—no, he was more quiet than usual.

“So,” he finally spoke after what seemed like a million years of silence. “Marriage.”

Biting your lip, you picked at your nails again. Klaire would kill you if she saw how much you’d ruined your manicure in the span of a few hours.

“Yeah. I’m getting married.” The words rolled off of your tongue like a foreign language, strenuous on your tongue and your heavy mind. “Your wedding is next week though, so don’t count me out,” you tried to laugh, but only succeeded in making yourself feel worse for whatever reason.

A ghost of a smile grazed Yoongi’s lips. His eyes flickered back and forth between his engagement ring and yours. “Are you excited?”

“Yes.” You answered robotically. The more you talked, the more each sentence out of your mouth felt like tar; acidic and painful, scorching your mouth raw. “Aren’t you?” you asked, referring to his engagement.

Yoongi nodded slowly, pressing his lips together and raking his teeth across his lower lip. “Of course I am,” he blurted out in a hasty tone. “Really, really excited. I can’t wait.”

Silence filled the room again. You wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. Why did this feel so horrible? Like you’d just stabbed your best friend in the back with a dull knife?

“I’m really happy for you, ______,” he declared. “I'm really happy that you’re happy.” His eyes fluttered softly and his throat bobbed.

Another pang reverberated in your chest. “I’m really happy for you too, Yoongi.” No matter how hard you tried to sound confident, your voice was on the verge of tears. He leaned over the space between you, he placed his hands over your clasped ones and kept his eyes down.

“Please stay happy,” he pleaded, unable to meet your gaze for fear of letting you see how watery his eyes were. “Please be happy. Live a long, healthy, happy life. For me.”

Choking back your own tears, you nodded.

You managed to find the strength in your voice to speak. One last wish before saying goodbye to your youth.

“Please don’t forget about me.”

"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the groom!” Jungkook announced grandly, gesturing toward the French doors at the back of the hall. The youngest really was good at everything he set out to do.

Opening the doors, your fiancé stepped out with a humble bow and waved at everyone; with his father’s wedding tux on, meticulously brushed up hair, and a single red rose pinned by his pocket square, he looked as handsome as ever.

After the clapping settled down, Jungkook continued. “And now, I would like you all to give a warm welcome to the beautiful bride!” The applause was louder than before and made your stomach feel like it weighed a thousand tons.

“Don’t let me fall?” Opening your eyes to look at Seokjin, he held your hand tightly and spoke with nothing but sincerity in his voice.

“Never.” On cue, you began walking down the aisle. It was just like the movies, except it was about a million times more terrifying since you were the one actually walking down the obscenely narrow aisle. Locking eyes with your beloved, his lips were parted in awe from the moment you stepped onto the walkway.

The soft music that echoed from the speakers flooded the auditorium and added an extra blanket of comfort. Reality kicked in and you were overcome with the feeling of sheer terror, excitement, happiness, anxiety, joy, and every emotion in between.

You were getting married.

You stared straight ahead so you wouldn’t fall and clutched onto Seokjin’s arm as tight as you could. Once you made it to the altar, Seokjin kissed your cheek and made his way back to the tables.

“Dearly beloved,” the officiant began. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of this beautiful bride and groom as they proclaim their love and commitment to the world....” His voice suddenly blurred into muddled bubbles of distorted bass. It wasn’t until your gaze wandered and found Yoongi—he was already staring at you.

Pain flooded your chest again like the burning hot steel rod that was used to poke charcoal pits. Pain like that time you went to Splash City for a 7th grade field trip and fell down the water slide. You weren’t able to stand up straight, so the guys worked together to carry you back to where Miss Isles and the TA’s were sunbathing. Yoongi was crying more than you. A dull ache blossomed in your chest and spread to the tips of your fingers like ink droplets in water.

Pain.

The warm sensation of hands holding yours brought you back to the present moment. “And now—” The bellowing voice returned. “Kim Taehyung, do you take ______ to be your wife?”

Without a second of hesitation, Taehyung squeezed your hands gently and his eyes gleamed brighter than the sunset skyline. “I do.”

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect her, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?” the officiant continued.

“I do,” he repeated confidently.

Turning to you, the vows continued. “And ______, do you take Kim Taehyung to be your husband?”

No longer looking at Yoongi, your heart was flooded with the love you shared with Taehyung just long enough for you to say, “I do.”

“Do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect him, forsaking all others, and holding only unto him forevermore?”

Your eyes drifted to Yoongi for just a second before gazing at Taehyung and letting the words leave your lips.

“I do.”

The officiant smiled, blind to anything but you and Taehyung. “May the ring bearer—which to my knowledge, is the best man—bring forth the rings?”

Stepping towards the altar, Yoongi handed the velvet box to the officiant and didn’t dare to meet your eyeline.

“______ and Taehyung will now exchange rings as a symbol of love and commitment to each other,” he said for what was probably the billionth time in his entire career.

The rest of the vows passed by like a smudged blur. All you remember is hearing, “You may now kiss the bride” and Taehyung’s soft lips pressing against yours. When you pulled away, everyone was whistling, clapping, and cheering, overjoyed at the new union that was Kim Taehyung and ______, husband and wife.

Everyone except Yoongi.

He was frozen.

All he could do was put on a big smile for his best friend, happily married to the man she loved.

All he could do was hide his truth—

so that’s exactly what you did, too.

The reception was bustling with crowds of people dancing. Seeing as you didn’t recognize a handful of faces, you were pretty sure more than half of them were all co-workers Taehyung had invited.

“Okay, okay!” Jungkook’s voice sounded through the speakers, cracking the slightest bit from his energy. “It’s time for everyone to give their toasts to the wonderfully wed bride and groom!”

You tried your best not to roll your eyes by shaking your head and biting your lips. Hoseok ran to the mic first, butting Jungkook out of the way like he always did since elementary school.

“______, Taehyung—” He exhaled as he began speaking. “If there’s any couple who’s been more in love with each other since the day they met, I’d pay a million to see their faces when they see you two.” Keeping it short and sweet, a few whistles sounded from the back, causing you to blush.

Namjoon was next. “We all met ______ in kindergarten and have been best friends ever since,” he explained with a hint of nostalgia in his voice. “When she’d go to the bathroom or back to the cafeteria to get an extra cookie, we all talked about who’d get to marry her during lunch. Taehyung always had it bad for ______, and dreams do come true!”

Covering your face to hide your the redness of your cheeks, you looked over to see that Taehyung was doing the same, except he was peeking through his fingers to look at you lovingly. The sound of the guests’ laughter and cheers made your heart ring in your ears. Taehyung reached over to grab your hand; the feeling of his large hand encasing yours made a wave of relief wash over you.

Jimin waltzed on right after. “Going off of that, I remember how Yoongi would always glare at us and tell us to ‘shut up’ or that ‘______ never wanted to get married and live with her cat forever.’” Everyone chuckled. “______, Taehyung, congratulations on the beautiful life you’ll share together!”

Watching everyone raise their glass into the air, you hesitated before grabbing yours and taking a mouthful.

Seokjin went after Jungkook, who insisted that he was supposed to go first as the main host. As a result, he made it his best interest to publicly roast Hoseok on the stand and earn a round of laughter from all of the guests.

You looked back to Yoongi. Some part of you secretly hoped that he waited for his turn as a “save the best for last” type of speech. He was clenching a piece of paper tight in his fist, hell-bent on making it into nothing but a wrinkled ball of smudged ink and flecks of fiber.

Right on cue, he stood up and jogged up to the stage. Jungkook handed him the mic with a confused expression, but played it off as best he could with his signature wide-toothed grin.

Yoongi turned away from the mic to clear his throat away. Taking a deep breath, he struggled to find his voice despite the deathly quiet auditorium.

“______,” he said. “I remember the first day I met you like it was yesterday. We were in kindergarten and you were the new kid who got transferred to our classroom.” He wasn’t reading off of the paper he had out earlier.

This wasn’t his plan.

“You wouldn’t stop crying, saying how you didn’t know anyone in the class and all of your friends were gone,” Yoongi said as he chuckled to himself, remembering the memory crystal clear. “I told you to stop whining because it was getting annoying, and you started crying even more.”

You remember that day. Taehyung remembers that day. As did Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, Seokjin, and Jungkook. You were all in different grades, but in the same school and shared the same classroom.

“I remember feeling so bad for making you cry, I gave you the last piece of candy I had stuffed in my cubby. I saved up twenty gold stars for that.” Another soft wave of everyone’s laughter crashed against your ears. “Then in middle school, we all went to the water park for a stupid field trip. You fell down the slide and hit your head so hard, you were barely conscious.

“I carried you halfway across the park on my back. The guys were all screaming from behind me to put my flip flops on so I wouldn’t get any cuts on my feet.”

You never knew that. The week after you had the accident, Yoongi was in a cast for a month and refused to tell you why. The guys wouldn’t spill either, defending that they made a promise to Yoongi that they’d never break.

“When you agreed that going to prom would be a nightmare straight out of a 90′s rom-com,” he paused to bite back his lopsided smile. “I asked you to come with me since it would be our last cheesy high school memory with the group.

“For your birthday, we went to the botanical gardens. You went on for hours about how much you loved the roses there.” How could you forget? Yoongi pulled up to your house at 6 in the morning and told you to be out in 10. You were sleeping peacefully for the entire 5-hour drive—until he woke you up by plugging your nose and nearly suffocating you on your birthday.

Despite the growing ache in his throat, he pressed on. “I still have those pictures of you getting stung by that bee. I told you not to get too close to the flowers, but you never listened to me.”

More laughter. Not a single ounce of it came from you.

Yoongi’s voice grew quiet. “I remember talking to you right before midnight. You seemed stressed out about something...” His focus was entirely on you now. “Namjoon’s New Year’s party.”

Oh. How could you forget...

“Taehyung could not have timed his proposal more perfectly with the last clock strike.”

There it was.

“I guess what I’m trying to say,” Yoongi stuttered, collecting his thoughts. “Is that I really—I’m really happy for you, ______. And you too, Taehyung.” He added the last part in with a gummy grin that you could spot as painted on from a mile away.

“I wish you a long, healthy, happy, and exciting life together. Don’t forget about the rest of us, okay? I love you, too.” He barely skipped the pause between the last two words to sound like “you two,” but his message rung loud and clear.

He loves you.

Min Yoongi loves you.

The faded edges of the polaroid felt dull against your fingertips. You spent the past hour sitting in front of the fireplace with the old pictures of you and Yoongi in your hand. You only had three; all of them were from his birthday party, senior year.

The first one was blurry, but the memory was imprinted in your head as clear as day. Yoongi’s arm shielding you from the bright flash of Taehyung’s camera in his sneak attack of a photoshoot. You didn’t notice until now how closely you were pressed against Yoongi’s side.

The second was better. Taking note of how the camera was slightly zoomed in and leaning towards you, a melancholic smile flashed your face.

"My finger was covering the lens” my ass, you recalled. Taehyung did have feelings for you, even back then.

Your arm was wrapped around Yoongi’s side and his slung over your shoulder, both of your smiling like teenage idiots at the camera, thinking about god knows what.

Finally, you studied the third one for the longest. It was the one where you two were looking at each other, frozen like marble sculptures and unbound by the limits of time. His lips were parted just as you remembered them, torturing you ever still. You wanted nothing more than for this picture to come to life and speak those words to you, whatever they may be.

But you knew that it was just an old, fingerprint stained picture that would remain silent and lifeless forever.

“Are you coming to bed, love?” Taehyung’s deep voice called from behind you. Judging by how scratchy and groggy his voice was, he was definitely on the verge of falling asleep standing up. “It’s getting late and we have lots of exploring to do tomorrow.” Even though he was exhausted, he couldn’t hide the excitement laced in his voice.

After you got engaged, the two of you immediately settled on Crema, Italy as your honeymoon destination. From the hundreds of years of history, breathtaking scenery, rich culture, and not to mention the food, the past few days here had been pure heaven.

“Coming,” you assured warmly. Sitting on the photos to keep them hidden, you told him you’d be there after putting out the fireplace. He pouted and said that the bed was cold without you, and to hurry up.

His childish antics never failed to make your heart race. After he was back in the bedroom, you took another minute to look at the pictures.

With shaky hands and tears welling in your eyes, you threw them into the burning red embers of the fireplace one by one, watching them melt; the white plastic borders of the film curled inward and turned black, crumpling into nothing but a stringy mess of fumes; the ink that marked the date of that night disintegrated into the air as puffs of smoke, marking the end of something would never be.

If you weren’t nestled into Taehyung’s chest and deafened by the sound of his steady heartbeat, you could’ve sworn you heard that piece of your heart shatter that night.

Yoongi was lying comfortably on his couch. The T.V. was on but he didn’t hear any of it. The clock read 12:41 a.m. and as per usual, he wasn’t tired in the slightest. He didn’t feel like sleeping. He didn’t want to. He couldn’t.

“Yoongi?” a sleepy voice sounded from the bedroom. “Are you coming to bed?”

Lifting his head to the bedroom door, he saw his wife sticking her head out of the door crack ever so slightly. She must’ve woken up.

“Yeah, sorry,” he apologized humbly. “Had to finish some extra paperwork.Go back to bed, I’ll be there in a minute.” Getting up to quickly kiss her forehead, Yoongi promised her that he’d be there soon.

She gave him a half-asleep grin and nestled herself back into the covers. Yoongi turned off all the apartment lights and the T.V., leaving him in utter silence and darkness. The only reason he kept them running constantly was to block out the thoughts he had of you during the day.

Opening the coffee table drawer in front of the couch, he took out the wedding album from last month. When he opened it, he was surprised to find the three pictures of you and him from his senior year birthday party scattered on the first page. You always loved throwing surprise parties despite knowing that he would never react the way you wanted him to. It was sweet.

Looking at the polaroids, Yoongi was in absorbed into the memory of that night, eyes burning from not blinking for too long. The first picture was a blurry mess, but the second and third weren’t half bad.

He remembers your smile being his favorite. You’d get that crinkle in your nose and your eyes would turn into half moons like a cartoon character. Your teeth glinted like rare pearls from the ocean’s deepest depths, but your dimples were only noticeable from up close. Your smile was absolutely contagious.

The third frame was his least favorite. It was a moment captured in time that he would never forgive himself for; the biggest regret in his life—his living nightmare.

That was the night he was going to ask you to be his girlfriend.

It was the night everything was supposed to be perfect.

But it wasn’t.

Two weeks later, Taehyung came back from the tour for his debut film and had a party of his own to celebrate.

He asked you out.

You said yes.

He swept you off of your feet and kissed you like in the movies, twirling you around to the point where you couldn’t stop laughing. You were so happy. Yoongi didn’t have the guts to throw away the photos.

The two of you hadn’t talked since his wedding. It had only been a month, but it felt like an eternity spent in hell. He missed your voice; the sound of your laughter; that face you made when you scolded him and tried to be serious but ended up breaking into snorts. He missed you.

Flipping over to the next page, he found the letter from your wedding night. It was still badly tattered from when he let his anger seep through and needed something to clench. Everyone who saw it probably thought it was his toast to you and Taehyung, but no. It was his confession letter he’d saved from the night you got engaged at that stupid New Year party.

Dear ______,

If everything goes to plan, you’ll never have to read this. On the other hand and the even greater chance that things don’t go to plan, you still won’t be able to read this. I love you, ______. I can picture your face reading this. Close your mouth or a bug might fly in again. Don’t think I forgot when we visited the zoo for our bio class. I still have the video saved on my phone. I’m probably too late, right? I don’t care. In fact, I couldn’t care less. I love you more than I love myself or anything else in this world, and I don’t care if you feel the same. I just want you to be happy. I need you to be.

I’ve felt connected to you since the first day we met and I’ve loved you more and more every day after that. No matter how hard I tell myself that you will never feel the same about me, or even think and care about me half as much as I care about you, I can’t stop thinking about you. I care about you more than you care about me, and that’s okay.

You make me so incredibly happy, I can’t put into words how deeply I feel for you. You also drive me insane and make me the angriest, most frustrated, neurotic, and saddest person to exist in this entire universe, but I don’t care because it’s all thanks to you.

I will love you until the day I die and I promise you this with my life.

Please choose me. Love me. Be with me. I know it’s pathetic and hopeless and so fucking selfish, but I love you and I can’t live without you, ______. Choose me. Stay with me. Marry me.

Always and forever yours,

—Yoongi.

And with that, he slammed the album shut and buried his face into his hands, sheer agony, anger, pain, regret, and awe flooding every cell in his body. He started laughing. Not at himself or you, not even at anything in particular.

I guess I’m just laughing at how ridiculous this whole universe is. Fate an all. He tried reasoning with himself but was far from remotely sane. It felt like some big practical joke on a hidden camera T.V. show, like this wasn’t his real life, his reality. He begged for it to be a bad dream that he would wake up from any second now. He wanted it to be a nightmare.

But he never woke up.

If you had met in another time, another life, another world—how happy could you have been? In love? Together?

The steady beeping of the hospital monitor had become your new normal. Today was different though. You sensed it in your bones. It wasn’t a good feeling.

“Yoongi, you can’t die on me. I don’t want to be alone.”

He smiled faintly, trying to reach out and soothe your streaming tears. His skin was bleach white and his usually pink lips were tinted a sickly grey. He was dying and you couldn’t do a single thing about it.

“You won’t be alone. You have all of your family and—” He was cut short by your sudden outburst.

“I don’t want my family, I want you!” you sobbed, burying your face into his hospital gown. He held back tears of his own as he felt the fabric dampen on his stomach. “You’re only 27, Yoongi, you—you don’t—”

Pressing the palms of your hands into your eye sockets, you wouldn’t have been able get any more words out even if you forced yourself to. A stabbing pain spread in your lungs from the lack of oxygen, but you didn’t care. Your boyfriend, the love of your life, was on his deathbed and you would gladly take all the misery in the world, all the needles and knives, stitches and surgeries, broken bones, bruises and blood—every single piece of it if it meant that he would live.

“You don’t deserve to die, Yoongi...” you hiccuped.

He cradled your head against his neck, his half sitting up posture allowing your tears to flow down his collarbone. The last few months had been hell, but you refused to leave his side.

Every time he’d wake up in insufferable agony in the middle of the night, you were there with anything he needed: water, a bucket, damp towel, food, his medications, a nurse—anything and everything he needed, you were always there for him.

The two of you shared the last few months you had left constantly by each other’s side. It all felt like some sick joke. Six years ago, you had met the love of your life at a random coffee shop in Seattle and hit it off like sparks. You found out he was an architect major and finishing up his senior year just like you. He asked you out four months after you kept running into each other at the coffee shop, and moved in together five months after that.

Your relationship was absolutely perfect. Never in your entire life had you met a guy, let alone a human being, who was as selfless, kind, gentle, loving, and honest as Yoongi. There was a connection between the two of you that you couldn’t describe or frame into rational thoughts; you loved each other unconditionally.

It all came crashing down when he collapsed last year. It didn’t seem like anything major. He told you it was because of his anemia, but after insisting on making a visit to the hospital, the doctors broke the news to you.

After months of seeing him doubled over in pain and puking his guts out from all the medication and relentless testing, he told you right before your 5-year anniversary: he didn’t want to suffer anymore.

It took months of convincing you that he was okay with dying for you to even be able to look into his eyes. You couldn’t hate the man you loved for choosing to die peacefully rather than be greedy to live, but you had a hard time showing your full support and being okay with it. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay with it.

“I’ve lived a happy life, _____.” Recalling the memory as if it were yesterday, his voice was much stronger back then. “I have done everything I’ve ever wanted to do, seen everything, explored everywhere, and after meeting you, I know I can die without any regrets. My only regret is not walking you down that aisle when I had the chance.”

Pressing a kiss to his chapped lips, you couldn’t stop the ache that plagued your heart at the memory. It wasn’t over until it was over, so why did it still hurt so bad?

“______?” Yoongi whispered. “You awake?” He struggled to his head to face you, every little muscle in his body aching like a collective bruise.

You shifted your weight over to your side of the bed and propped yourself up on your elbow, studying his face one more time. “Do you need anything?” Talking for the first time after hours of crying stung, like rubbing alcohol was being poured down your throat.

His shook his head at you with a half-lidded gaze and lifeless smile. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all. It’d be nice if you could cuddle me to sleep.” You bit your lip to hold back the waterworks but let your smile shine through. He was the same Min Yoongi you’d met at that random coffee shop on a rainy Seattle day.

Opening his arms, he brought you safely into his chest, arms wrapped around you as tightly as he could with the little bit of strength he had left.

“______,” he sighed, drained from all the energy he’d put into making these these past few days worth it. “I love you.” He murmured the words against your temple like a prayer, breath tickling you ever so softly like the ripples of a cherry blossom petal falling onto the surface of a pond.

You looked up and saw that his eyes were fully open, but started to flutter shut again. He was using every bit of energy to keep them open and memorize your features. Kissing him tenderly, you felt your lips tremble against his. You didn’t want his last memory of you to be one where you were bawling your eyes out. Instead, you smiled as best you could and swiped your finger across his cheek as he leaned into your touch.

“I love you too, Yoongi. I love you more than anything in this entire universe we call home.” His eyelids drooped shut at your soothing lullaby, falling deeper and deeper into the comforting darkness of sleep. The weak beating of his heart grew quieter with each passing second.

“You can go to sleep, Yoongi,” you soothed while running your fingers through his thin hair. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” he mumbled through your hair with the last drop of strength he had left in his body. His breathing grew shallow and hushed. His hands that were always warm and kept you cozy during the frigid nights in your apartment were now stone cold.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat as you felt his chest rise and fall for the last time.

“I promise.”

Taking in a deep breath, the cold air burned your nostrils and filled your lungs with the crisp scent of snow. “Why do you believe in soulmates?” you asked. Handing him the sandwich bag, he shrugged.

“I don’t know. Just seems like something that makes sense.” Tearing open the plastic pouch, he took a bite and immediately sputtered. "How do you mess up a PB&J?”

You smacked his shoulder lightly and scowled at him. “I’ll have you know that I happen to make the best sandwiches in the world, Min Yoongi!”

“Mhm,” he nodded with sarcasm and a smirk. Might you add that he was still eating his sandwich and seemed to be enjoying it.

Pressing your lips together in a thin line, you ate in silence together. It was a snow day in Manhattan and Central Park looked stunning from your dorms. It was your idea to go out for a picnic, and since it was winter break, who better to ask than your dearest friend Min Yoongi?

“I can’t believe you dragged me out here for a picnic in winter wonderland.” His voice seemed grumpy, but it was probably because you hadn’t given him any coffee yet. Point made, you rustled through your backpack and pulled out a thermos full of piping hot instant liquid gold.

With a mouthful of bread, he reached out to grab the metal thermos but you pulled it back and wagged your finger at him. “What do you say?”

“Give me my coffee,” he droned. Widening your eyes at him in disapproval, he huffed. “Please?”

You stuck out your tongue and poured him a cup. “I’d be more than happy to!”

If he rolled his eyes any harder, they would’ve fallen out of his head.

Taking a small sip, the hot steam curled in contrast with the freezing cold air.

“So you don’t believe in soulmates?” He retraced his steps back to the former topic of conversation. Turning towards him, you followed his eye-line to the small pond down the hill. A sigh parted your lips.

“If everyone had a soulmate, we wouldn’t have heartbreaks.” Your sentence caught him off guard.

“Don’t you think your soulmate is out there somewhere?” he badgered.

You shook your head and finished the last bite of your sandwich. “If he is, he should have popped up three breakups ago.”

Yoongi couldn’t think of a witty comeback.

“Do you think your girlfriend is your soulmate?” you asked this time, tweaking the question to fit his current relationship status.

“No.” The response was instant and dry, much like the coffee granules you poured this morning. “I don’t think she is. Do you think Jungkook is yours?”

You admired the trail of your breathing as it steamed up into a small cloud. “Not a chance.”

The only sound that came after was the brushing of tree branches mute thud of leaves as the fell onto the snow. If you concentrated hard enough, you could hear the frozen pond crackle in the distance, melting away as the seasons began shifting for reasons beyond mortal comprehension.

The ocean of screams and thumping bass was deafening. Cupping your hands over your ears to try and stop your ear drums from bursting, nothing you did could drown out the sea of shrieking fans at a concert.

“Los Angeles!” a tall man greeted from the stage. “How are you all doing tonight?” He didn’t even need to talk to earn a shower of over-excited adolescent spirit.

Another guy who was slightly shorter in comparison brought the mic up to speak. “What do you say we start off the night with a countdown?”

“1,” another younger member started counting.

“2,” the one standing beside him said in a velvety voice.

Pointing their mics to the audience, they all counted, “1, 2, 3,” in unison and you shriveled into a ball of discomfort at the sheer volume.

“This is my favorite song!” your friend shouted as loud as she could, but to no avail.

Leaning closer to her, you shouted back, “What?!” Ushering you to look towards the stage, you didn’t know what you’d be getting yourself into when you agreed to go to a concert. You’d heard about BTS of course, who hadn’t—what you didn’t know was how your friend managed to snag two tickets in the pit. To make it even more painfully cliché, you weren’t that into their music as much as the entire world seemed to be.

You overheard a few seconds of their songs here and there while changing stations on the radio, and who could forget seeing their names plastered on every single news headline, Instagram post, and Facebook and YouTube ad that popped up into your field of view. It wasn’t that you disliked them, you just found it hard to obsess over a single group when there were hundreds of other musicians you enjoyed listening to; too many artists, not enough time.

Come to think of it, you couldn’t be bothered to keep up with celebrities or social media, period. In all honestly, it just seemed like a gigantic, disrespectful waste of time to be buried nose-deep in someone else’s personal issues and life. To each their own, of course.

The sudden change in music made you fall back in touch with reality. The melodic tune of a piano filled the entire stadium as the crowd erupted into another round of cries. Drawing your attention to the stage, a single man sat by a grand piano as his fingers danced across the wooden keys.

Call it your wild imagination or your cloudy head from the overcrowded stadium, but you swear he locked eyes with you for just a moment. He began singing, the words flowing from him like trails of ink scribbles composed of his own sorrow, joy, happiness, and his life up until this point.

He was completely mesmerizing. After the song was over, he bowed to the audience and made eye contact with you. You saw a droplet roll down his cheek as his gaze locked onto yours. He seemed to snap out of the cloud his head was swimming in and immediately stood up straight to get a better look at you. Was he crying?

Breaking his stare as an unfamiliar weight deep in your chest began to pull you down, you turned to your friend—at least, where you thought she was the last time you checked. Another song came on, this one sound like the loudest of them all.

“I have to go to the bathroom!” you tried shouting to your friend, but your voice was already gone. Not from the yelling and screaming of lyrics to songs you didn’t know, but from trying to get your friend’s periodic attention for the past half hour.

She paid no attention to you and kept dancing along with the blaring music. You were starting to feel sick. Maybe it was from swimming in a sea of overzealous crowds of people you hated on a daily level, or from the stuffy and cramped space that was nothing but suffocating—whatever it was, you needed to get out of here. You couldn’t breathe.

Saying excuse me didn’t work in this case so you had to shove past sweaty bodies a bit too aggressively for your comfort, but what choice did you have? You made it to the bathroom just in time and proceeded to puke your guts out in the only stall with a working latch.

It was official: you hated concerts with a passion and would never be coming to one any time soon. Thankfully, the queasy sensation that started earlier was now gone, but instead, it was replaced by a different feeling. Your heart started racing like a bullet train on an endless track headed nowhere. A balloon of air filled your chest cavity and made you choke on your own breathing.

Clutching your chest, your jaw clenched to fight back the urge to cry and closed your eyes tight. You started breathing like your doctor told you to whenever you started getting chest aches. In, out, in out, in out.

You hated concerts.

Yoongi was staring out the streaky window of the tour bus as rain clouds began to loom over them. The guys were quick to notice how weird he was acting towards the end of the show, like he had—

“Dude, did you see a ghost or something?” Seokjin asked with genuine concern woven in. Yoongi didn’t have any headphones in like he normally did, but he didn’t pay any attention to what any of the guys were saying. They didn’t piss him off or annoy him, he just couldn’t concentrate on anything right now. Right after his solo, he had to run to the bathroom before he puked onstage. He didn’t even eat anything a few hours before their performance, but maybe that was exactly why he got sick. Performing on an empty stomach helped combat his nerves, but he’d never had to pay the price until tonight’s show.

“Yoongi?” Hoseok prodded, poking his shoulder from far away with the selfie stick he used to livestream earlier. Better to poke the sleeping bear with a selfie stick from a safe distance than to let the bear sleep peacefully, right?

“Hm?” Finally he said something. The past two hours of silence since the show closed out was too weird, even for Yoongi. “What?”

“You okay dude?” Namjoon looked up from his phone and to his friend.

Yoongi nodded, slipping in a pair of earbuds and closing his eyes. He was exhausted and didn’t feel like answering their bound-to-be relentless questions. He wasn’t acting weird, he was just emotionally and physically spent.

They shrugged and went back to their business, leaving the grumpy one to his own devices. In reality, he didn’t have any music playing through the buds and just needed to drown out their chatter and think to himself.

He tried remembering your face in the sea of flashing cameras, light sticks, signs, glowing wrist bands, and who knows what else. Your partially agape mouth that was so utterly fixated on his performance, not the group’s. His brows knit together when trying to picture your smile, only to come to a dead end. There were too many phones shoved in his face and the swarm of people that flocked to him when he tried coming down the stage to get a closer look at you.

Yoongi grunted in frustration, but because his eyes were still closed, the boys assumed it was just another bad dream. He’d been having a lot of those these days. Taehyung refused to share a room with him when they returned home because he would always wake up to Yoongi thrashing around and screaming in his sleep. Tonight would without a doubt be no different.

Yoongi couldn’t get your face out of his mind, regardless of how hazy and unclear it was. Who were you? What was your name? Why did you come to a concert if you were only going to be there for a few minutes at a time? Why did you leave after his song? What did you think of it? Did you get home safe? After hours of divulging a plan to find out your identity, he surrendered to defeat.

It was as if the world was telling him to stay awake until he knew exactly who you were, where you were, and what you were doing at this exact moment.

He didn’t sleep at all that night.

Staring out his window, he pressed his cheek onto the cold glass and closed his eyes. The icy pane felt satisfying in contrast to his burning hot face. This time of year was Yoongi’s least favorite. Winter—the season where everything died and left nothing but freezing cold, thick, white blankets of snow.

The season you left him.

He grimaced as the memory resurfaced, fists clenching so hard his nails dug crescents into his palms. He wanted to scream but couldn’t find his voice to.

“If you want to leave, then just leave!” he yelled. Gathering the clothes littered beside the bed, he threw them across the room and landed by your feet soundlessly.

Your expression remained stone cold, gaze burning holes that glowed brighter than the sun on the angriest summer day. “Yoongi—” He was quick to cut you off.

“No, ______,” Holding his hand up, he was fuming. “If you want to leave, then leave. I don’t want you here. Just go.”

You opened your mouth to speak but it was no use. He wouldn’t listen.

“If you’re so happy with Namjoon, why don’t you just marry him?” Yoongi’s spit out with pure venom and hatred dripping from his voice. He started laughing, delirious from what he was processing. “You know what? Fuck you, ______.”

Pausing to instigate a reaction from you, you stayed mute with arms crossed over your bare chest. He was still sat in the bed and you hadn’t moved away from the door for the past five minutes he’d been venting.

“Yoongi,” you sighed, completely drained from the hours you had spent arguing with him. He couldn’t even look at you when you spoke. “We’re not dating. This wasn’t supposed to happen between us. You knew that, Yoongi—”

He started laughing even harder, hands covering his face in a manic daze. “And you expect me to believe that it he was only texting you?”

That’s all it was. Namjoon asked you earlier today and asked if you wanted to go out for coffee some time. You made the glorious decision to stay the night at Yoongi’s place and keep your phone unlocked right by the nightstand. It wasn’t long before he discovered the series of texts shared between you and Namjoon that dated back two months ago.

You’ve been sleeping with Yoongi for a little over a year now, but never made it official.

Apparently, it still warranted this kind of a reaction from him.

“We never said we were dating, Yoongi.” Reminding him of all the times he told you that he didn’t date and how he wanted to stay as fuck buddies, a darkness erupted from his eyes. “It’s been—”

“You think blaming a stupid label is what this is about?” He stood up and walked towards you, his smirk and upturned eyebrows making your blood boil.

“I found someone who actually cares about me, Yoongi.” You stood up straighter. “He doesn’t just use me for his personal gain and wants to know more about me, not just for sex or whatever the fuck we’re doing.”

“Who said I didn’t want to get to know you?” he shot back at you. “Did I say didn’t want out take you out on a date? When the fuck did I ever—”

“You did, Yoongi! You!” Raking your hands through your hair, anger didn’t even begin to describe the seething hatred that filled your veins. “You told me that this was just going to be a fuckbuddy thing. You said that you would never date because relationships were high school shit shows waiting to happen. You warned me not to fall in love with you well guess what the fuck happened genius?”

Each pronounced word you cursed at him was followed by a shove to his chest. Just as he was about to bite back, you were running on autopilot. You couldn’t take it anymore. Clutching your throat, you thought you were drowning, water flooding your lungs and rising up your throat until you were moments from being taken under.

“Do you know how many nights I spent crying myself to sleep over you?”

An odd look flashed across his face that you couldn’t piece together.

“The hours I wasted, wondering, begging, praying and wishing that you would like me back...” You felt tears well at the back of your eyes. “You never gave me a sign. You never said anything and you didn’t do anything, Yoongi, fuck—fucking hell. You never—” Taking a moment to breathe, your hand came up to shield your eyes, refusing to let him see you cry.

“You never cared about me, Yoongi.”

His expression morphed even more. “I never cared?” It was a purely rhetorical question. “I never cared? I never cared? Really?” You hung your head in defeat and picked your clothes from the floor. You didn’t need this. Not now, not ever, not anymore.

Another dry scoff came from his throat as you started dressing. “Okay, _____. I never cared. I worked my ass overtime and saved up enough money to buy you that necklace because I never cared. I drove for six hours all the way to see your performance and take you home because I didn’t care. I stayed up all night writing you that birthday card because I didn’t care. I’ve been sleeping with you for the past 18 months, letting you sleep over, making us breakfast, and spending quality time with you because I never fucking cared.”

You froze. Why was he telling you this now?

“It’s too late, Yoongi.” No it wasn’t. It was never too late. “You should’ve told me this when you had the chance.”

“What fucking difference does it make that I’m telling you this now?!” he erupted. “Let’s just fucking—” He tugged at his hair, finally feeling the exact flurry of conflicting emotions you felt. “God, ______, let’s just calm down and talk it out, okay?”

You grabbed your phone from the floor. The screen was shattered from when you threw it at the wall earlier. It almost made you chuckle. Your temper got the best of you and you ended up chucking it at the wall when Yoongi kept probing for more answers.

Why did Namjoon text you, when was this, why didn’t you tell me, what were you going to say, were you ever going to—

“We’re done, Yoongi.” Your decision rang firm and cold. As you turned the doorknob, he grabbed you by the arm and held you still, fingers digging into your skin like shingles.

“If you leave, we’re through, ______.” He deadpanned like you hadn’t just said that. “I mean it, ______. Don’t go.” Never had your own name sounded more agonizing to hear and make you feel like bile was coming up your throat.

You refused to turn away from him when your words followed, feet firmly anchored in the ground and staring through him like glass. “Goodbye, Yoongi.”

Snatching your arm out of his grip, he scoffed through his nose. His jaw was slack and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek, biting his lip to the point where he nearly broke skin. This was it.

“I hate you.” You could barely make out what he said because you slammed the door on your way out. His knees buckled and he fell to the hardwood floor with a thud. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” he kept repeating to himself long after you were gone. Maybe if he said it enough times it would turn into the truth. “I hate you. I hate you.”

Yoongi cupped his hands over his ears and began rocking back and forth, continuing his mantra and willing them with all his might to become reality.

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

“I love you,” he finally said. “I love you.”

I love you.

“BP’s dropping, set up a drip!” The resident on-call was quick to gather all the nurses and they had to work fast.

“Book an OR! We have to operate now!” he shouted at anyone who was listening, pushing the gurney down the hall and making people move out of the way like oil in water.

Each doorway burst open as the doctors and nurses rolled you down each sector of the hospital, juggling around medical jargon and ordering everyone standing idle in the aisle to “Get out of the way!”

The nurses shoving the IV needles into your arms was barely a tickle compared to the other things you were focused on. Your body hurt. It felt like everything was being crushed but none of the pain was registering in your brain because of how much it was. Your eyelids weighed a ton and it stung to even open them. It hurt to breathe. Every time you inhaled, it seemed like a knife was digging itself deeper into the side of your chest, ripping through flesh and piercing each individual bone.

“Please do something!” someone shouted, probably at the nurses. As if that would do anything...

The sound of footsteps clapped like thunder against the floor tiles, running towards you as fast as they could. “You have to save her!”

A nurse that was about two feet shorter than him, managed to hold him back with an iron grip. “I’m sorry sir, staff only. We promise we’ll do the best we can.”

This felt familiar. Nostalgic, even. Dare you say it, comforting?

“Where the hell is Yoongi?” Jungkook asked Namjoon, bright red and dripping with sweat from carrying you on his back. He swore he would never use the line, “We’re lucky we live right next to the school’s teaching hospital” as a joke ever again.

Namjoon paced back and forth while on his phone, calling everyone and telling them to get to the hospital as soon as they could. “I don’t know, he’s not answering.”

“I’m sorry, your call could not be completed—”

“Shit!” Namjoon swore and kicked one of the plastic chairs, earning a few nasty glares from the nurses and patients.

“Jungkook!” Turning around, the two saw Jimin, Seokjin, and Hoseok running towards them.

“What the hell happened?” the oldest asked. “Is she okay?”

Namjoon had to lean against the wall for support. His head was spinning. He couldn’t find it in himself to say anything.

“They rolled her into an operating room a few minutes ago,” Jungkook answered, voice shaking like a child’s. “We don’t know yet.”

“Taehyung’s on his way here right now,” Hoseok signed in exasperation.

Jimin asked what was on everyone’s mind. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“He’s not answering his phone.” Namjoon filled in with a bitter voice, now oddly calm. “One of you guys should call him. Maybe he’ll answer if someone he doesn’t despise calls him.”

All of a sudden, Taehyung burst through the double doors in a hoodie and sweats, running over to where the five were lined up along the wall. “Namjoon!”

Panting like he’d just run a marathon, he didn’t bother catching his breath before asking what happened. “Have they helped her yet? What’s wrong?”

“We don’t know,” Jimin replied. “They haven’t told us anything yet.”

It was unclear whether he was talking about the doctors or Namjoon and Jungkook, but Taehyung didn’t bother asking what he meant.

Jungkook asked Taehyung what Namjoon refused to. “Did you call Yoongi?”

Taehyung shook his head. “It went straight to voicemail...” Behind him, Seokjin, Hoseok, and Jimin were all taking turns calling Yoongi, probably blowing up his phone with hundreds of messages, voicemails, and missed calls.

He never answered.

Yoongi was never a fast runner. He did P.E. in high school and sprinted 50 meters on the field whenever he needed to burn off some steam, but he never enjoyed running.

Running to the hospital made him hate it more than he thought humanly possible.

Each time his feet struck the concrete sent a shockwave up his knee, pins and needles pinching his nerves like no other injury he’d endured before. It was a miracle he hadn’t tripped over his own feet yet. He didn’t care, not one bit. He needed to get to you right now and if that meant suffering shin splints then so be it.

When he finally turned his phone back on, it didn’t take him more than two seconds to read the first message before he was sprinting out of his apartment.

59 missed calls

22 new voicemails

65 unread messages

______’s in the hospital

Every footstep after that was synchronous with each ring of his phone; a new text message, another phone call, a bunch of voicemails that no one ever listened to on a regular basis other than when you really had nothing else to do.

Yoongi can safely say that his lungs have never burned, ached, or pulsed more in his entire life than right now. His vision was blurry and he could hardly see straight, but he managed to make out the faint outline of Namjoon’s lanky frame. He would recognize him anywhere—it turns out people remember the first fistfight much better than they give each other credit for. However, this time, it was Namjoon doing the swinging and Yoongi being the receiving end.

Nonetheless, he didn’t expect a swift hook the moment he opened those hospital doors.

“Namjoon!” Jungkook and the others rushed to hold him back, nurses and surrounding staff calling security at lightning speed.

“It’s fine!” Yoongi held his hand up towards the staff and pinched his nose. Leaning forward, he felt blood trickle down his knuckles and into his mouth. The faint metallic tang took him back to the night he and Namjoon almost killed each other at your apartment.

The doctors looked at each other, silently debating whether or not they should have them kicked out. After a few moments of reading the air, they understood the nature of your situation and let it pass, just this once.

“Where is she.” Yoongi’s question came our more like a callous statement.

Hoseok’s hand came up to touch Yoongi’s shoulder but he smacked it away like he’d just been burned by a hot stove.

“Where the fuck is ______, Namjoon,” he growled, facing Namjoon head on blood-streaked face and all.

Namjoon didn’t say a word. He simply stared at the guy he used to call his best friend and waited. Waited for another question, an answer—hell, even a punch or a kick would suffice if it meant getting a reaction from Yoongi. A full minute passed in utter total silence and the others sat quietly in the surrounding chairs, monitoring the two ticking time bombs just in case things escalated quickly.

Seokjin tried to calm him down. “She’s in the OR. We’re still waiting for an update.”

“Glad you made it,” Namjoon’s voice cracked, practically spitting at him. “What took you so long, Yoongi?”

“Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi muttered through clenched teeth. “Where. Is. She.”

Namjoon began laughing, a livid flame burning behind his dark eyes. His chuckles were soon replaced by shallow breaths, gasping and coughing, until he broke down into sobs.

“She was going to see you,” Namjoon trembled, rage and sadness wrapping their tendrils around every fiber of his being. “—you unbelievable fucking idiot.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrowed into slits and his eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

Namjoon was sitting on the ground with his back against the wall and head buried between his knees. Lifting his head up, he kept his eyes focused on the floor tiles. If he looked at Yoongi, he’d be more than tempted to deck him again. This time, he wouldn’t stop after a single blow.

“She came over to my place and told me that she couldn’t be with me,” he reaffirmed. “Because she loved you.”

Yoongi’s world came crashing down. You loved him? You loved him back?

“She said she needed to go see you,” Namjoon continued. “I told her to hurry up and go before you fell asleep. I told her to go and she actually listened to me.” All eyes were on Namjoon now, anticipating what would come out of his mouth next.

Namjoon bit the inside of his cheek and covered his mouth, holding back his whimpers. “She ran outside before I could even say a proper goodbye and th—”

Jungkook broke. “I was on my way upstairs when I heard the car all the way down the street... ” His voice hitched on the truth, only now comprehending the gravity of their new reality.

“Lady blew a .19,” the older one sneered. “Said her drink was spiked but we all knew she was just fucking wasted and wanted to take her new ride out for a spin.”

The bustling background noise of the hospital was now mute. Deep down inside Yoongi’s heart, something snapped. Anatomically or physically, he didn’t know, but it was even more painful than anything he had experienced in his entire life. His fingertips began buzzing like static ran through them and the sounds around him grew fuzzy, as if he’d been plunged twelve meters deep into the darkest trench of the ocean.

Yoongi’s hand flew up to his chest, a tearing sound he swear he could hear echoing like a cannon ripple. His friends stumbled to their feet and screamed to any nearby medical personnel for help. Namjoon was shellshocked, frozen like a deer in headlights. He’d just seen your lifeless body get rolled into the hospital wing. Even though he refused to admit it, he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he lost another friend today.

His ears was ringing like when he had the worst migraine back in senior year. Finals season, go figure. Yoongi snuck into your room and stayed there with you all night. Sure, you managed to get a little bit studying done.

“Fucking do something!” Taehyung screamed. “Help him!”

Yoongi kicked and thrashed at anyone who tried touching him, moaning and crying out until his throat went raw. An excruciating pain spread throughout his body. It felt like his muscles were peeling apart from his bones and his bare body was being dunked in battery acid.

Then came the pit.

It started with a numb cramp. Then, a hole opened up from deep inside his chest, swallowing all of his air and making it impossible to breathe. It was unbearable. He was going to pass out from the pain; he wanted to. Anything was better than this. God, everything fucking hurt and he just wanted to go to sleep.

The last thing he saw was a hoard of nurses running into the room across his and the sound of of defibrillator paddles charging. With all the blood streaked across your face, he could barely make out the scar on your temple. It was from sophomore year—you fell down the bleachers after a night of bad decisions and way too many drinks. If Yoongi hadn’t caught you, you probably would’ve snapped your leg.

He doesn’t want to remember what happened after that.

Another week passed before you decided to leave the house. It had been exactly 18 months since you moved here and yet, the city still felt foreign to you. Sure, you had a cozy studio apartment decorated well enough to remind you of home, a job you loved with all your heart, kind neighbors who treated you like a local, and not to mention a tightly-knit circle of friends you treasured more than anything.

So why on Earth did you still feel so undeniably out of place?

Pulling back the blinds, the sunlight streamed in like rays of heavenly light. It wasn’t supposed to be sunny today, but you weren’t one to complain. After weeks of staying cooped up in your own apartment and using “the holidays” as an excuse, your pasty complexion deemed itself worthy of some vitamin D and fresh outside air. You weren’t entirely sure how to explain it, but something was bugging you, willing you, to go outside.

Yeah, you definitely needed some fresh air if some weird gut feeling was what finally convinced you to go outside.

Throwing on a thick wooly coat you snagged from the thrift shop during your first month here, you had to slam the door shut with as much finesse and gusto as Houdini himself. Cheap apartments didn’t come without their share of cons, but you liked to think that your bank account thanked you each month.

Skipping down the street right after the snow melted was the perfect equation for disaster. That didn’t stop it from being fun. You were in a good mood today for some unknown reason. Everyone had their good days as much as they had their bad ones, didn’t they?

The warm smell of freshly baked bread wafted in the air. It flooded your nostrils with the most delightful, comforting, and delectable scent you’d ever had the pleasure of smelling. It also reminded you how hungry you were and that it was a bad decision to skip breakfast. You apologized to your wallet before venturing off to find the nearest café. At least it was cheaper than eating at a restaurant.

You lied. It was all in the name of really good coffee and you happened to know exactly where to find some.

The jingling of the door chime was something you had grown accustomed to over the course of 10 months. This was the only café that actually poured bottomless cups of black coffee and only charged for every two refills on lattes, cappuccinos, and other milk drinks.

“The usual I presume?” your favorite host offered, already getting a cup ready.

You smiled wide. “You know me oh so well, Jimin.”

Flashing you his signature grin and a cheeky wink, he got to work steaming the milk for your double-shot flat white. “Where’s Namjoon?” you wondered aloud. “Isn’t it his turn for the lunch shift?”

Jimin chortled. “It always blows my mind that you seem to know our schedules better than we do.” You rolled your eyes at his backhanded compliment; flattering because he appreciated how attentive and close you were with everyone who worked here, but mildly insulting because he was implying that you spent so much time here that you didn’t get out enough.

Finishing up cleaning the last row of plates, Jimin slung the dish towel over his shoulder. He beckoned you to come closer and you leaned over the counter. “Joonie has a date,” he whispered in your ear.

“I don’t see those hands moving, Park Jimin!” You’d know that velvety voice anywhere. “Don’t forget you’re taking out the trash later if Seokjin catches you!”

“Just keeping me company, Taehyung!” Sipping the top layer of foam from the red ceramic cup, you sighed in pure bliss.

Sticking his head out from the kitchen, his lips formed into a giddy smile. “It’s been a few days princess! How long did you sleep for this time?”

“Hardy har har,” you jeered, scowling at his never ending tirade of Snow White jokes. “At least I still get my beauty sleep.”

Taking mock offense to this, he didn’t get a chance to react before Seokjin snuck up from behind him smacked the back of his head with a wooden spoon. “Stop flirting with customers and finish table eight’s order, doofus.”

“We don’t open for another hour!” Taehyung wailed.

You suppressed the snort that almost escaped by taking another sip of your coffee. “Missed you too, Seokjin,” you greeted. He smiled heartily at you and waved before picking up the phone. Running a business while having your best friends work for you wasn’t exactly the best recipe for success, so to speak.

“So this ‘date’ Namjoon has,” you hummed. “Is she pretty?”

A pair of hands from behind you snaked their way your waist, tickling you into a fit of forced laughter. “It’s not good to butt your nose into other people’s business!”

You were too busy choking on your giggles, you couldn’t talk. After an incredibly long six seconds, Jungkook pulled away and greeted you with an innocent grin. His nose was crinkled the slightest bit and his eyes were inviting half-moons.

“That’s the least you deserve for leaving me with these idiots for the past three days...” he immediately broke into a pout.

At this, Jimin swung the towel off his shoulder and smacked Jungkook straight across the face with it. His reaction was straight out of a cartoon. If you hadn’t finished your drink beforehand, flat white would have spewed out of your nostrils all over the counter.

“Watch your mouth kid,” Jimin warned in a melodramatic voice, and even he was holding back a series of cackles.

“See what I mean!” Jungkook whined to you, tugging your sleeve and pouting. “They’re so mean to me and steal all the tips!”

From the kitchen, Taehyung tsked to scold the younger one and waved his spatula around for extra emphasis. “We don’t steal them, you’re just to busy chatting up all the customers to pay attention to the little details.”

Jungkook’s mouth contorted into a pucker and he started mouthing their words to mock them. You forced yourself to stay quiet and pressed your lips together to force back any reaction.

The ringing of the door caused you all to turn around. It was Hoseok and his—friend?

"______!” His voice was telltale surprised and ecstatic to see your face after a couple of days of absence. “Kook, Chim, Tae, guess who I brought?”

“Well well, and I thought we had seen our share of ghosts for the day,” Taehyung gawked, ignoring the pet names Hoseok coined for them in elementary school.

Jimin wore a look of awe. “You must be a vampire or something, you’re still as young and as pale as ever.”

“So I did get taller!” Jungkook blurted out like the child he still was.

The man standing beside him currently had his back turned towards you, focusing instead on the antique decor that adorned the walls, tables, chairs, and ceilings of this establishment. He wore a simple outfit, bearing nothing but a white hoodie, dark jeans, and frayed navy blue sneakers.

When he finally turned around, you thought your heart did a triple somersault and landed in your throat. Did you know him? Didn’t you know him It wasn’t as simple as the fact that he looked familiar, he felt familiar. Everything from his face, gaze, aura, energy, and even his scent engulfed you in a cloak of solace. You knew him from somewhere, yet you had no idea who he was or where he was from.

The moment he turned around, Yoongi was immediately drawn to you. Everything else flew out the window and you were the sole focus of his mind. A forcefield of curiosity and yearning overrode all of his thoughts and he was consumed by one wish and one wish only: he needed to know your name. He needed to know who you were.

With wide eyes and an invisible string pulling the two of you towards one another like polar ends, you didn’t notice that he had made his way right in front until Jungkook coughed up a lung.

Hoseok broke the silence in the air. “______, this is Yoongi. Yoongi, this is ______.”

He was still drinking in your features. the tiniest details of your uneven dimples, delicate lips, baby hairs, down to the way your eyes sparkled and twinkled like the brightest stars in the sky.

Likewise, you were sketching out every single detail of his face; the almond-shaped creases of his eyes, pouty lips, flawless skin, and of course, the half a second he let his gummy smile slip past his lips.

“Hi,” you finally murmured, quieter than the sound of a cricket chirping in the dead of night. A small grin crept along the edges of your lips as he parted his lips to speak.

Yoongi couldn’t stop the smile that lit up his features. “Hi.”

“Psst—” Taehyung craned his body over the serving window to whisper in Jimin’s ear. “What’s up with them?”

Jungkook, Jimin, and Hoseok shrugged, looking back and forth at each other, then at you and Yoongi.

“It’s really nice to meet you.” So this is what it’s like...

He held out his hand, the distance between you staying the same yet growing shorter each second.

Taking his outstretched hand into yours, you slowly closed your fingers around his, admiring how they seemed to fit perfectly like a lock and key. It was as if a spark had ignited between your two bodies, embers flying like fireworks underneath the pitch black darkness of night. How were his hands so warm?

Any remaining drop of apprehension you ever had was now gone, replaced by a bright, glowing light that outshined everything else.

“The pleasure is mine.” Finally.

The air hung heavy with nerves as you and Yoongi stood absolutely silent, fingers still entwined with one another. Hoseok coughed from the serving counter. When did he get there—

“You gonna catch up with us or leave us hanging again, Yoongs?” Jimin teased, a mischievous smirk painting his features. Letting go of his hand, the feeling of cold air grazing your palm was instantaneous. Jungkook slung his arm over your shoulder jokingly. “What have you been up to, Yoongi?” He was desperate for some kind of attention, he was willing to piss his best friend off for it. You tried to refrain from giggling.

“What am I, cold turkey?” Taehyung complained from the back. Crossing your arms to shelter your hands, you notice how icy they’d become in the span of a few seconds. Yoongi climbed over the counter in the blink of an eye and whacked the chef behind his head.

“Show some respect you goofball, you haven’t seen me in months,” the older scolded. Chuckling, his gums were the slightest bit visible as he smiled wide, another wave of familiarity swallowing your senses.

You stepped outside five minutes after the guys started chatting and catching up with each other, awkwardness overcoming your ability to carry on a normal conversation. Yoongi’s presence made you—flustered, to say the least. Ideally and in any other social situation, you would have stayed and introduced yourself to him further, but you felt like you were already intruding on a private conversation.

After an hour of pacing back and forth and pretending to be busy with a phone call, you went back inside and told the guys you had to get back home. “I forgot I had some extra papers I still haven’t sorted through,” you lied through a forced out dry laugh. “Don’t want my boss to kill me.”

The guys waved goodbye, and Yoongi looked like he’d been slapped across the face. “It was nice meeting you,” he managed to pry out. “See you around.”

Flashing him a tight-lipped grin, you scooped up your things from the counter, bid the boys farewell, and hurried out the door. The moment you set foot out the door, it was as if something tugged the hems of your coat. Did you forget your phone? Bag? Journal? Wallet?

Patting yourself down thoroughly, you shook it off as just another misled gut feeling. You hadn’t visited the café in a while and started the day off on an off foot in the first place.

You were a few meters from the café when someone called out to you—shouted, actually.

“______!” Their footsteps drew closer, each dull thunk on the pavement instead reverberating like a crisp knock on hardwood.

Turning around, your looked down at the figure hunched over directly in front of you and gasped. Yoongi was panting heavily, shoulders rising and falling as he supported himself by resting his hands on his knees. Patting his back out of habit like you’d done for your high school teammates after a track meet, he reached out and gripped your forearm for support.

Biting back a chuckle, you had to ask. “Are you alright?” Had he really sprinted that far just to catch up to you? Damn, you really did leave your phone back there, didn’t you...

Clearing his throat, he stood up straight and tried catching his breath. “Never been better, thanks.” He was still holding your arm. “I was going to ask if you—if you uh, God this is weird—,” he stuttered, eyes falling to the concrete pavement beneath his feet.

You tried your hardest not to interrupt. While he kept tripping over his words like an adorable nervous wreck, you relaxed your arm so that his hand slid into yours, slotting together perfectly like two matching puzzle pieces. Feeling the warmth radiate from his touch, you saw his expression ease immediately. He squeezed your hand. When you returned the favor with a shy grin, it gave him the courage to speak.

“Do you want to go out for dinner sometime, ______?” he finally asked, your name flowing off of his tongue like the most beautiful song you’d ever heard. Yoongi’s eyes glimmered with anticipation and hope.

Looking deeper into his entrancing gaze, you didn’t have to think twice. “I would love to, Yoongi.” His heart exploded in his chest when you said his name, a trapped butterfly escaping from its cage with a vivid flurry of colors and radiating light.

Love at first sight always seemed like nothing short of a fairytale, but you had a feeling that this came pretty damn close to it.

Soulmates weren’t always romantic lovers. Sometimes, they were close friends or merely acquaintances. More often than not, they even lived their entire human life without finding each other, the closing chapter of their lives spent with their loved ones, twin flame, an unlinked soul, or in complete solitude.

Each life was given to you for a reason. Every experience, painful memory, death, birth, and ounce of love and loss you endured throughout all of your past lives was entirely out of your control. It was neither your destiny nor fate to remember the lifetimes with or without your soulmate, and doing so would be a waste of the time you were given in this current life.

Fate, karma, destiny, divine logos, universal divinity—call it what you want.

We do not remember our past, nor are we better off predicting our future.

All we have is the present moment and ourselves, and that is more than enough.

5/5/2020—3:43:01 AM

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maemi324 · 4 years ago

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Black Coffee

Hey there friends! It’s been a while hasn’t it? Today i come at you with a new piece for a new My Hero character! Well new to me writing him. Here we have....Villain Deku! Inspired by this tiktok! https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJUywn9t/ it just screamed Villain Deku to me. This is my first time writing him, so if he seems a little OOC, that’s probably it. Here are some songs I listened to while writing this 1. headless waltz- Voltaire 2. Don’t go by the river- Voltaire 3.House of Myth, Such horrible things, Gorey Demise, Grave Robber, Greatest Show Unearthed, Aim for the head, Buried Alive- Creature Feature 4. Spooky Halloween Mashup, Syndicate: Underground- Cover by Peter Hollens. Warnings: Robbery, Guns, violence, let me know if theres more I need to tag please! Only edited by me, so I’ve probably missed some stuff! With that! Let’s get into it!

Dawning light streamed in through the windows, the scent of coffee heavy in the air, steam from the hot drink you made rising softly. Soft music flowed through the room, other employees taking the chairs off the tables and whipping them down.

You sipped your drink, your eyes barely staying open as you leaned against the counter. It was far too early to be awake. Pain flashed through your mouth as you reluctantly swallow, your tongue protesting not only being burned but the now cool air that touched it.

It was too early for your own nonsense.

As the sun rose in the sky customers began their daily migration to the bean and leaf juice they all craved. Thankfully it was still rather early, only a handful showing up, and even fewer deciding to take a seat and enjoy their purchases.

“I can help whoever’s next?” you call out, closing the cash register and looking up to the new customer with a bright smile.

Bright viridian eyes stared back into your (e/c) colored ones, ones that you hadn’t seen in a very long time, since middle school in fact, his green hair cementing just who he was. Recognition dawned in his eyes.

“Y/N?” “Midoriya?”

A surprised laugh bubbled up, catching you by surprise, “I haven’t seen you in months- years even!” a short glare from your manager got you ready to enter in his order. Taking a peek behind him you saw that the line had lengthened considerably. “Y-yeah, it has been quite a while hasn’t it?” He stated his order, as you typed it in and gave him the total amount. He must have been pretty tired still as he stared into your eyes. You waved a hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daze as his face flushed a deep red, frantically digging his hand into his pockets to fish out his wallet- where had the damn thing gone- oh it was in his hand already.

Even after all these years, Midoriya was still just as much of a spaz as he’d always been. He moves to the drink pick up location, leaning against the counter as you made his drink. “I wish I had more time to talk, but with the line growing…”

“Well What if I came back later today? Or tomorrow?” You prepped the cup, adding a drizzle of caramel to the sides, offering him a kind smile

“Yeah, I’d like that,”

You handed him his drink and sent him off with a wave. A disgruntled Karen decided to ring the service bell as you hadn’t jumped back to take her order.

Why did it have to be a Karen?

Unfortunately you were unable to see him later on that day.

However, just as you turned the sign from closed to open that next morning, you were surprised to see those same bright eyes aimed at you.

“Well, you’re here quite early” you teased, opening the door for him as you walked in. It would be a while yet before people came into the little shop. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes looking tired with circles under his eyes, “It’s been a long night,” He laughed off your look of concern, “Just work, nothing too terrible! I just thought I’d swing by earlier before I had to get back to it”

Your coworkers paid no mind as the two of you walked to the counter as you made him and yourself a drink, taking a seat at one of the tables. No one was here and wouldn’t be here for a good half an hour.

“So tell me, how have things been? Is your mom alright?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah she’s doing fine, still at the same place! She’s retired now actually” “Oh, good for her! I hope she’s enjoying it” you sipped at your coffee, thanking just about everything that you didn’t burn your tongue in front of him.

“But what about you Midoriya? Last I checked you were wanting to become a hero?” While it would have been hard to be a quirkless hero, It wasn’t impossible. It probably wouldn’t get you ranked in the top five or even the top twenty, but so long as you were a good hero, what did rank matter?

His eyes shifted from contentment to something a bit more sad, a deep sadness that surprised you. Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, a hesitant laugh served as a cover. “Well, I did try, but eventually I just gave up. It just hit me that no matter how much I worked, I’d just be in the way of the pros. I could do some things sure, but...it’s not...it wasn’t enough. So I took a step back and found myself getting into computers, fixing them up, making sure they’re running properly. It’s...It’s nice”

You place a hand over his, an overwhelming urge to comfort him raced down your bloodstream. His hand jolts at the sudden touch, but he doesn’t bat your hand away. “I always believed you’d make an incredible hero” it made you feel guilty that you hadn’t been there for him when he clearly needed someone, anyone even just to listen to as his one and only dream crashed around him.

“I know you did, I appreciate it (Y/N),” he offers you a more content smile, “But I’m happy where I am now, really! Plus if I was a hero, I might not have met up with you again”

You let go of his hand, though not before he gives it a gentle squeeze, picking up your drink and taking another sip.

“I’m glad to see you're happy though, you said you were fixing computers?”

“Yeah! It’s not a big thing really, just a little repair shop. Clients bring me their various electronics, I clean them and fix them up! It can be really challenging sometimes, especially when it’s an older model! I swear I’ve seen some that I could have sworn were from the early nineties!”

You listened as he rattled on about his clients, his eyes lit up, a subtle blush on his cheeks as he talked with his hands. More than once you had to back away from getting a straw to the eye, but you hardly minded.

It became a regular thing, He’d come to the shop at various hours of the day, typically right at opening, on your break, or right as the last customer shifted out the door. You always had his favorite drink ready for him, though you had to fight him to keep him from paying. You didn’t mind after all, paying for his drink. He somehow always managed to sneak in the exact amount into your pockets or purse before he left, leaving you to discover it when he was far and unable to take it back.

The ass.

The more you met up the more open he became, you both talked about work and your grievances there. Now you were talking about anything and everything, TV shows you’d recently watched, movies you were excited to see, stupid stories about Karen's getting owned was a personal favorite.

However His favorite happened to be the news. He was still hero obsessed as he’d always been. However, there was a more...critical insight into it.

“Ugh” he huffed out, turning his attention from the TV, though muted, the subtitles were still on. It was currently showcasing Endeavor, how he rescued some civilians from a collapsing apartment building, from a disgruntled worker who had turned to villainy when kicked out of their apartment. They decided to take revenge on the landlord, though it quickly turned to chaos as the entire complex crumbled.

“What is it?” You paused from chewing on the straw to take a sip, “ is it Endeavor?” You knew damn well it was, but it was better to let him process through his words. “Yes! Look at him, smug as can be. He doesn’t even care about those people he rescued, He’s shown no comfort towards them, not even a glance to the children he’d saved. He acts as if he’s too good for them. A real hero would be reassuring, give a sense of calm to everyone involved in a rather tragic turn of events” he sipped at his drink angrily, nearly choking on it as you patted his back.

“ You mean a hero like All Might?” you offered, knowing that the hero had a special place in his heart.

Instead of the perky response you would have expected, his lips turned to a thin line, staring into a far off place beyond the TV.

“Yes....just like All Might”

Figuring he was still going through the appalled emotions from Endeavor, you didn’t press the matter, turning to focus on something else, his latest client, or even a Karen you had encountered earlier that morning. He took your bait readily, eager to listen.

It took you awhile to notice, but during your lunch breaks, on the days he didn’t come in early, he would always be watching the news. He’d rip them to pieces with a barely concealed snarl. He’d rant and rave, while keeping in mind the other customers. He talked about the villains even, and how they were people as well, forced into unfortunate situations, where were the heroes then?

As much as you would have liked to stay in the hero worshiping normalcy, the more he went on the more you began to realize, heroes were actually rather corrupt. You could feel yourself becoming angry alongside him. Why did they do that? What about the people they were rescuing? What about these so-called villains?

You shook your head from your thoughts, looking down to see your next customer that afternoon, a young girl no more than ten years old just out of school and looking to buy a snack and a small drink.

You sent her off on her merry way, happily sitting down at a table and munching on her snack. Checking your watch, you realized it was time to take your lunch. You sat down at your usual booth and waited for Izuku, sipping at your own drink.

The bell by the door went off, your eyes instinctively looking to see who had entered. Time slowed down as three men came in, guns at the ready and masks pulled over their faces. The first had a black mask, the second having a red one, and the third having a white one.

“Alright! Nobody moves, and no one gets hurt!” the first one shouted, as horrified shrieks went off in the small shop. “Put your hands up and go over there!” he motioned with his gun to collectively gather in a corner. You obeyed along with everyone else in the shop.

The second one aimed his gun steadily at the barista at the register, “No! Not you, you’re going to fill this with all the money you have!” He threw a bag over at the barista who shakily picked up the bag where it had landed, tears running down her cheeks.

The third held out a bag to the gathered group, “ Put anything valuable in here! Watches, Jewelry, Money, Phones, all of it!” He shouted, an elderly woman shakily began taking off her earrings, another gentleman taking his wallet out.

The young girl stared with wide eyes, tears falling rapidly down her cheeks, face red as she tried to be quiet, but her hiccups would not allow her. When red looked over at the little girl, her wails increased tenfold.

“Hey! Shut up before I give you a real reason to cry about. You don’t want that do you?!” he shouted, taking a step forward the girl took an extra step back as she put her arms out in front of her to protect herself.

“I said QUIET!” he raised his hand.

Your body moved on it’s own.

You took the hit for the young girl, your cheek stinging from the impact. That didn’t matter, not over the safety of the little girl, the roar of your heartbeat thumping against your cheek.

“What the hell?!” “Just leave her alone! She’s a little girl, she’s just scared!” You held your arms out, effectively blocking her from view. The elderly woman took the girl to her side, watching for the slightest movement from the robbers.

“ So you want to take her punishment? Is that it brat? Fine,” He shoved you down to the ground easily, glancing over to the young girl, “Take this as an example of what happens when you disobey me!”

You couldn’t hear anything, your sight blinded as well as his foot collided with your stomach, sending you rolling across the ground. He pinned you down as he punched you, over and over again, arms, stomach and your face, seeing stars as your head hit the ground.

Izuku...Izuku please....

You didn’t know what you wanted from him, whether it was to save you from the pain somehow, or to not show up at all in fear he’d try something heroic like you did.

The shop doors burst open, a cloth or tape like substance shooting out from someone you couldn’t see, wrapping quickly around the robbers, dragging them to ram into one another, the shock of it making them let go of the guns they held so tightly onto. You faded in and out of consciousness, even though the sounds of battle continued on.

It was all a blur as you slowly came back into reality, sitting in an ambulance being checked over by a nurse. The other heroes who had arrived stood before you, scolding you for your actions.

“What were you thinking?! You put yourself and the girl at risk! They could have made you watch as they hurt her!”

What was I supposed to do, let her be beaten?

“There were so many other things you could have done! Next time think through your actions before you do anything!”

What could I have done? You fail to mention what else I could exactly do. I didn’t even know what I was doing.

But you didn’t say that. You took the abuse as the nurse began to shoo them off, proclaiming that they’d made their point, nothing more could be said. It wasn’t long before the nurse gave you your results. You were a bit battered but otherwise alright, you’d bruise like hell but you amazingly didn’t have a concussion. Once you were home you were to Ice the bruising spots. With that they sent you with your things back home.

Upon entering your home you changed out of your clothes, something bubbling under your skin. It felt so up close and in your face you couldn’t decipher it. You changed into some incredibly soft shorts and tank top, wincing as you moved to change.

The silence was too much in your apartment, with shaking fingers you called the only person you could.

“(Y/N)?” “Izuku..” something in you snapped as you heard his voice, a sharp gasp turning into a sob. “(Y/N)? What is it, what’s wrong?” “I...Can...can you come over? Please? I...I don’t think I can over the phone” “What? Yeah, Yeah of course, I’ll be right there!” You gave him your address and hung up after that, flopping onto your couch and hugging a pillow.

It only took him twenty minutes to arrive, but it felt like forever and a second simultaneously. The swift knock at your door startled you out of your blank and racing thoughts. He was dressed in casual clothing, some jeans and some random white button up, a thin green vest over top. Your vision blurred as he stepped in at your allowance, going head first into his chest as you sobbed. He grunted from the impact, but wrapped his strong arms around you regardless. “ Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, I’m here. I’m here” he cooed softly into your ear, “ Here, let’s go to the couch alright?” You nodded but didn’t let go. You shuffled your way to sit on the couch with him, only parting to readjust his hold.

“There was an attempted robbery at the shop today,” you sniffed, resting your head on his shoulder, “ There was a little girl there...she was so scared, she was crying. The...one of the robbers got angry at her, which made her more scared. So I...I took the hit for her”

He lifted your face gently, examining the forming bruise. His frown showed his worry, but he didn’t comment on why you ran to this girls side, “ I was wondering about this black eye I see” You nodded, continuing your story, “Yeah...He didn’t like that I’d taken the hit for the girl...so as an example he beat me up. I don’t remember too much after the ‘heroes’ arrived.” you spat.

“But the heroes arrived and saved everyone, that’s good right?” he prodded. If you had been more aware, you would have heard the underlying tone in his voice. He didn’t really believe the heroes had done well, not with how you spat their name as if it was venom.

“They told me i was stupid for putting myself in front of the girl, that I should have done something else! What else was I supposed to do? My body moved on it’s own! They could have tortured the girl to get a rise out of me, or hurt the both of us…” As you said those words, another sob tore from your core. “Maybe they were right, maybe I should have just...I don’t know. I’m so sorry I didn’t think of anything faster.”

Izuku cut you off gently cupping your face in his hands, thumbs softly brushing away stray tears. Your eyes refused to meet his.

“Oh darling, look at me,” hesitantly you looked into his eyes, filled with concern, determination and...something else you couldn’t quite place, but it was so soft...so powerful. “You’ve done nothing wrong, you are perfect darling. Without you, that girl could have ended up beaten, or worse!”

The endearment was new, but not unwelcome, his words wrapping you in a soft blanket of safety.

“You did nothing wrong, you are perfect, everything about you, you’ve done nothing wrong. So please, don’t apologize” You leaned forward to hide in his chest as his words brought a fresh wave of tears. He gently rubbed your back, taking care if you so much as winced to move his comforting circles.

“It isn’t right that they lectured you. You had just gone through a traumatic event, you needed reassurance, kindness. You aren’t trained to be a hero, you acted on instinct. An instinct that hardly anyone else in that room had. They acted so wrong to you” he whispered, “Those ‘heroes’ are what's wrong with the hero society as a whole. Things need to change”

“But I don’t know how to do that, or where to even start” you whined, your hiccups slowly dispersing.

“Join me”

Wait...what?

“Join you...I don’t...I don’t understand…” You look up at him, searching for any hint that it was a badly timed joke. You found none.

“When I told you I worked with computers....I wasn’t lying, but only technically. You see, I work with this group, as a hacker. We’re going to show the world what these heroes really are, and the need to fix them. The roaches will have nowhere to hide, not from the public, and certainly not by the hero commission”

That was...quite a bit to process. He was a Villain?! All this time?!

You were shocked, your heart sinking to your stomach. “Why...why didn’t you tell me?” You knew why the second you said the words...but you needed to hear if those were the same words he’d say back.

“If I’m being honest darling...I was scared. You were always so kind, so soft hearted, to learn you were talking with a villain? Plus, it wasn’t like I could just...tell you in the shop right?” the corner of his mouth lifted up into a slight smirk, though it quickly vanished.

You thought back to today, how angry the heroes had made you. How many others did they tell the same thing when they were just trying to help? How many children paid the price? How many people?

But the feeling of fists landing on you echoed back in your rapidly increasing heartbeat. You couldn’t do that again, not against a villain, not against heroes, not against anyone!

“I...I’m not cut out for villain work Izuku, you see what happened to me! I...I couldn’t go through that again...I don’t want to go through that again”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, warmth blossoming from the spot. “You don’t have to, just...supporting me is enough, more than enough” he took your hands in his, gentle circles rubbed into them. “You wouldn’t have to quit your job, or move, or anything, just knowing you support me? It fires me up, I have to do this, for you, for everyone, to right the wrongs that have been done. What do you say?” his green eyes were lit up in hope.

Your hands squeezed his, “I do.”

#my hero academia #bnha #my hero academia Izuku Midoriya #bnha izuku midoriya #midoriya izuku #izuku x reader #izuku #izuku midoriya x you #bnha reader insert #bnha reader #villain deku #villain izuku #reader insert #maemiwritesBNHA

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spartanguard · 4 years ago

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even death won’t part us now (5/?)

Summary: Two covens, both alike in dignity, / In fair New York, where we lay our scene, / From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, / Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes / A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life; / Whole misadventured piteous overthrows / Do with their death bury their sires’ strife. (Captain Swan + West Side Story + vampires. But not as sad. Probably.)

A/N: Brace yourself for some feelz, friends; that’s all I can say about this chapter. (There’s just...a LOT of emotion. You’ll see ;) ) Eternal thanks, as always, to @optomisticgirl for being an awesome beta; to @thesschesthair for her amazing art (LOOK AT THAT AHHHHHHH); and to @kmomof4 and @cssns for putting this event on and pushing me to continue this story!

if you’ve ever seen AVPM/S, I’d like you to imagine Draco Malfoy singing the Anita part and that’s what my high school’s production of West Side Story was like

part five: tonight, there will be no morning star

The skyscraper was a wonderful invention; a marvel of modern engineering. The ability to construct a building all the way into the clouds was one of the many things Gold was glad he had lived long enough to see. He’d been impressed enough when the Equitable Life Building opened in 1870; the balcony he stood on now was at least five times higher in the sky.

It was a good thing his sense of vertigo was long-dead, else he might not be able to spend as much time out here, looking down on the city, as he did. It made him feel like some modern monarch, surveying his kingdom from on high. In reality, it was much more complicated than that, though he’d spent long enough building his empire that it wasn’t far-fetched to call it a dynasty.

He sometimes lamented that his efforts would never be documented in history books; how he’d spent centuries working away right under the noses of the mortals, and they remained oblivious. Maybe he’d make that his next project. Surely there was some suffering, underappreciated writer he could bribe with immortality...ah, but not tonight. There’d be time for that later. First, he had to weather whatever was coming.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but something in the air was different tonight; a sense of anticipation was floating on the wind, carried along by the brine of the ocean. He tapped his fingers on the rail of the balcony but was unable to tap down on what it was precisely.

“Hello, Rumple,” a voice he’d never be able to forget said from somewhere above.

Ah, perhaps that was it then; he always had a sense for when she was around. “I thought I smelled betrayal and cheap wine on the breeze. Good evening, Cora.”

The woman dropped from the roof above, landing gracefully on the terrace without even wrinkling her pantsuit. Her style had always edged on sharp, though this seemed surprisingly simple for her; he recalled bigger shoulder pads the last time he’d seen her—what was it, ‘85?

“You seem awfully calm considering what’s about to happen tonight,” she said, ignoring the jibe. Ah well, it was worth a shot; he hadn’t been able to get a rise out of her since 1621, but it didn’t stop him from trying.

He scoffed. “What, a minor scuffle? Two lads having it out over a couple blocks of territory? Seems to me it’s far more personal than anything that would actually mean something.” He’d had to restrain himself from chuckling when Jones told him about the fight; they had no idea.

“Don’t tell me you’ve grown so dense that you don’t realize what this means,” she preened.

He wanted to call her bluff, but if there was one thing he’d learned in over 400 years of dealing with Cora, is that she rarely did. “Enlighten me.”

“It means your underlings are growing restless and tired of this. Mine too. And I’d rather not have this end the way it did last time that happened.” ‘Last time’ being a bloody war; they were able to hide it from the mortals within the confines of the American Revolution but it was a near miss. He’d began rebuilding his ranks immediately; she’d taken her time. And here they were now.

“Chaos has always been my friend, dearie; I can’t say I’d be too upset if it broke out now.”

“While I wouldn't mind it either, I’d be watching your back a bit more closely. Didn’t Jones bring up something...rather interesting earlier?”

Somehow, a chill ran down his unfeeling spine—not just at what Jones had asked about, but the fact that she seemed to know about it as well. “It’s nothing; just a myth. It’s not possible.”

“Please. Think of everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve been through together. Nothing is impossible.”

“I’ve made sure of it.”

“Have you?”

She was always good at poking his buttons. And he was done with it.

“Go. And never come back.”

She had to obey, at least, and he took a small thrill in the way she involuntarily started to climb over the balcony’s railing. “Fine. I just thought I was doing you a favor, but I see it’s not wanted. See you in another 30 years, Rumple.”

She let go and fell back; he didn’t watch to see what happened when she hit the ground. He wouldn’t put it past her to frame him for murder, but she had a different angle this time.

Even though she’d left, that sense of apprehension lingered. Something was indeed coming, something that would change things in his world—but what?

And why did he get the sense Jones was involved?

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

The sun wasn’t even below the horizon before Emma left home, shouting a quick “goodbye and good luck” over her shoulder as she headed out into the evening. If she were in her normal skip-tracing clothes (aka her normal clothes), she’d be running across rooftops to get to Granny’s in no time flat. But no, this was a honeypot, so she had to walk, lest she break the only pair of heels she could actually move in without pain. (That was one thing she’d been dismayed to discover: heels still hurt, even if she recovered faster.)

Still, she powerwalked to Granny’s in record time. “Evening, Emma,” the old wolf called out. “The usual?”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, slipping onto her normal stool at the fairly empty counter. It was weird—for a place known to so many, it always seemed to be fairly empty. She had to guess that last night’s meeting was the most crowded it had been in ages. Or maybe that was just part of the magic of the diner.

If she had to guess, the guy at the booth on the other side of the room was a werewolf, based on scent alone; and there was what looked like a fairy bachelorette party at the large booth in the corner. (Not to be confused with fae—she made that mistake once and only once.) Being the only vampire, it was kind of nice to feel like the odd person out for a change. Though she hoped that changed soon.

“Order up!” Granny was suddenly in front of her with a plate of one of the few things on the menu Emma could eat: onion rings. (Onions that had been soaked in blood overnight, mind you, but that was enough for her to be able to stomach them.)

“Thank you so much, Granny,” she effused, and then moaned as she bit into one. “Have I ever told you you’re a genius?”

“It’s been mentioned once or twice. When does lover boy get here?”

As incredible as it was, Emma almost spat out the bite. “Excuse me?”

“Girl, you think I didn’t smell you all over him last night? He covered it up well enough for the others not to notice, but I know better.”

First Zelena, now Granny; they were both going to have to invest in industrial-strength body spray if they were going to keep this under wraps for the time being.

“Calm down; I won’t tell.” But she leaned in across the counter and lowered her voice. “But if you need a place to meet in secret, you know I have rooms upstairs. And I promise not to listen too close.”

“Thanks; I’ll, uh, keep it in mind,” Emma stammered, then hid her embarrassment in another bloody onion ring. Granny, unsurprisingly, cackled and walked away.

It would take more than a voyeuristic wolf to keep her from enjoying fried deliciousness, though, and she savored every bite—being glad she was wearing a red dress in case of drips (Deadpool totally stole that from her, as far as she was concerned)—until there were just two left: the most perfect, juicy, crispiest ones of the bunch. But suddenly, there was only one. And she also wasn’t alone at the counter anymore.

Two seats away, Killian sat with one of her onion rings, taking a slow bite that had her mouth watering in other ways; the way his tongue swiped away the bit of blood that escaped his lips was almost arousing enough to overlook the theft. Almost.

“All those manners and no one taught you to ask nicely?”

“I told you I was a pirate,” he tossed back, taking another bite. “Not a whole lot of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ going on there.”

“I highly doubt you ever pillaged anything as precious as those, though.” She started to stand up to close the distance between them, but he threw her a warning look out of the corner of his eye that made her pause.

“We’re in public,” he muttered with his mouth full. Damn, he was right; even if no one from either coven was here now, that could easily change. Which was really annoying because as good as his rum-flavored kisses tasted last night, she liked onion rings even more. And, you know, they probably had some business to discuss—like whatever Zelena had been talking about.

As if on cue, Granny slipped past again, but this time tossing a key (with a rather ostentatious keyring) onto the counter in front of her as she went to address her new customer. There was a room number written on it in Sharpie; Emma memorized the number and slipped the key into her lap as she sat back down. (While also making a mental note to try to find some sexy dresses with pockets.)

The appeal of her last onion ring waned given that there was something far more delicious-smelling a few feet away, so she scarfed it down, threw some cash on the counter, and then headed to the hallway that led upstairs. Granny definitely did better business in the diner than her inn, and it wasn’t anything special, but it was clean, which Emma couldn’t say about a lot of other places she’d been; her skps really loved the city’s roach motels. (Something told Emma the very nature of her host kept most vermin far from the premises.)

Room 305 was simple, sparse, but had a decent-sized mattress with a sturdy frame, and a clean bathroom. All she needed was the privacy, though.

She’d hardly tossed her purse and the key on the room’s table when a soft knock fell on the door; she wouldn’t have heard it if she was still human. She turned back and, out of habit, glanced through the room’s peephole; she was already getting a whiff of spicy and salty air through the door, but this was still the city and you couldn’t be too careful. But of course it was Killian on the other side, peering up at the door through his crazy long lashes.

She didn’t wait any longer to pull it open, and nearly as soon as she had, he was on top of her, claiming her lips with his and damn, she was right—onion rings tasted as good on his lips as they did on her tongue. (But his tongue tasted even better.)

Somehow, the door was shut behind them and while she wasn’t quite sure who was leading, they pressed together from tip to toe until they fell against the plush—and noisy—mattress, sinking in with a loud squeak of ancient steel.

“Should have known Granny would want to hear something like that,” he chuckled. “Saucy old wolf.”

“Eh, let her listen.” Emma’s own arousal was climbing too fast for her to care, and she pounced on Killian again, wrapping a leg around him and pressing her core against his. He was definitely eager, too, she could tell; it was kind of funny how, out of all the bodily functions that ended when a person transitioned to a vampire, arousal was the one that remained unchanged. She’d had her fair share of flings in her afterlife, but no one had her as keyed up as Killian did with so little effort.

His hand wandered down her side, squeezing her waist and then pulling her rear impossibly closer, before toying with the hem of her dress. “I thought last night’s dress was rather demure for you,” he said between kisses, “but this one is positively sinful.”

“Good. Means work will go fast tonight. Horny bond skips usually fall for it pretty fast.”

“I can see why. I’d tell you to be careful, but I feel like it would be better to warn your prey.”

“Emma Swan always gets her man.”

“What a lovely motto.”

“True so far. And that includes right now.” She sucked a line of kisses down his sharp jaw to the juncture of his neck, drawing a delicious moan from him. “Do you have one?”

“Aye,” he breathed, eyes squinted shut as if trying to regain his thoughts. “A man unwilling to fight for what he wants deserves what he gets.”

“And what is it you want?”

He opened his eyes—clear blue even in the dingy yellow light. “You, love. Just you.”

How could she do anything but kiss him within an inch of his afterlife?

Everything that followed was a rush of sensation rather than any coherent thought:

The brush of his beard against her neck, the firmness of his chest beneath her hands (as well as that of his ass), each graze of his fingers against her thigh as they moved her dress up.

The way his weight settled above her in a way that was both oppressive and comforting, the dance of fingers as they undid his fly (she wasn’t even sure whose all were involved in that), the bob of his cock as it sprang free from denim confines.

How something so hard could feel so soft in her hand—nearly enough to make him come undone on touch alone, but she’d be damned if she let that happen. (Or, well, damned more than she probably already was going to be.) How, for the first time in 15 years, she genuinely felt flushed.

It was all she could do to shove her lace panties aside and guide him home, and oh—she didn’t have the words for what that felt like: to be filled so perfectly it could have brought tears to her eyes (you know, if her tear ducts still worked).

And then he moved and—holy shit. Her fangs dropped down on their own accord again but she couldn’t be bothered to care this time; hell, all she wanted to do was sink her teeth into him, but she’d have to settle with using a heel to press him back in.

“You feel incredible, darling,” he murmured, slightly lisping—his fangs had dropped too. Maybe she hadn’t learned all there was to know about vampire biology. But that could be dealt with later; right now, she just needed him, and to find the release that was inching closer painfully slowly.

“So do you,” she whispered. “But it feels amazing when you move.”

“As you wish,” he said into her ear, his breath somehow feeling hot on it, and he complied. They started slow, careful presses in and out to find their rhythm, then picking up speed and power. She really hoped the bed frame would hold up (Twilight did get that part right) and was sure Granny was getting a good show, but she put any other wonderings into finding his lips again, the play of teeth and tongues and lips coinciding with the meeting of other body parts.

It felt like a slow climb—something she was used to in post-mortem relations—but then the precipice came out of nowhere and she was suddenly falling, gasping into Killian’s mouth as her release carried her away, though she held his shoulders with an iron grip to keep from floating too far.

He wasn’t far behind, she felt, and his fingers would have left imprints on her side were they still capable of being bruised. She felt his release spill inside her as his movements stuttered until he was done, slipping out and falling next to her on his back.

It was probably some long-buried instinct that left them feeling out of breath after sex, but Emma was pretty sure she was sweating. Dead or alive, that had been one of the greatest orgasms of her life—and, honestly, sex was so much easier while undead, what with the whole not needing birth control or being worried about STIs. But this—this was something else.

“I do have to admit, that wasn’t my initial aim in following you up here,” Killian said, pulling her into his side. “But I’m not complaining.”

“I think we’d have some issues if you were. You seemed very enthusiastic about it.”

“And how could I not be?” he smirked, turning to look at her. But then his smile fell, and he pressed his thumb against her lips; it came back red. “Apologies, love; did I hurt you?”

She licked her lips and tasted the copper. “No; I hadn’t even noticed. It might have been self-inflicted,” she said, pressing her tongue against her own still-exposed canines. “I wish I knew why that kept happening.”

“It’s just the effect I have on you.”

“Yeah, it is.” Her normal MO when flirting was to refute a statement like that, but...why lie? “I’ve been waiting to see you all day.”

“I can tell.” She lightly slapped his shoulder, and he chuckled at the reaction. “I felt the same way; I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“A day is a lot less than 15 years. It dragged but I managed. Thank you for not murdering my dad last night.”

“That wouldn’t have been very gentlemanly. And if anyone was going to do any assassination last night, it would have been Graham killing me.”

Ugh, of course he would; she groaned. “Sorry; he can’t take a hint. You make out with a guy once twelve years ago and apparently he keeps a flame lit for the next decade.”

“I can hardly blame him, especially knowing how you kiss.” His thumb again traced her lips, which had healed by now, and god, the reverence in that gentle gesture was nearly as overwhelming as her orgasm. But then his brow furrowed. “You don’t suppose true love’s kiss is real, do you?”

Emma blinked, confused; where had that come from? “No, probably not, though I wouldn't dare say that around my mom—she most likely believes in it. Why?”

“Granny mentioned something to me last night after the meeting, and I did some research today...were you also aware the prophecies were real?”

“No, I was not.” Though surprised, she listened as Killian told her about Gold and his powers—actual, honest-to-god, dark magical powers—and the prophecy that spelled his end. She wasn’t too surprised that it was kept under wraps, especially given what she’d learned from Zelena last night (which Killian somehow did not know, which made her feel like less of a newb for once).

But most shocking was the fact that Kililan thought she was the one the prophecy talked about. “Fuck.”

“That’s a succinct way of putting it.”

“I don’t word good, so the fewer, the better.” Quips aside, she was having a hard time wrapping her head around the whole thing. “So I might be the only person that can kill Gold and end this whole feud? That’s….a lot.”

“I know, but I want you to know it’s not a burden you carry alone.”

And then the other half hit her: true love. Did that mean…? “So...that’s us? That means we’re—”

“Maybe,” he said softly, probably sensing her panic. She couldn’t deny that she had deep feelings for Killian, but true love? That was...that was her parents, that was fairy tales; that didn’t happen to her.

“I don’t want all that,” she whispered. “I just want to be with you; I don’t want to be responsible for ending some centuries-long feud.”

“I know, love,” he murmured, and pulled her close; she was nestled into the crook of his neck and other than her dad’s patented hugs, she’s never felt so safe. “It’s not for certain; just a theory, and you’re under no obligation to act on it. But if you choose to, know that I’m here beside you each step of the way.”

“Or we can just run off; go hide in the woods upstate or something. Or Maine—or even Canada; they’d never find us there.”

“Not likely, no,” he chuckled; she could feel the vibration of it through his collarbone onto her cheek. “Maybe a cottage by the seaside somewhere? Some remote little beach?”

“Mm, sounds perfect.” Her parents would understand, right? And even if they didn’t….well, they could deal. “Let’s just do that right now. Let me go catch this skip, and then I’ll pack my bags and we can go.”

She felt more than saw his smile. “As much as I’d love that, I’m afraid I have some other things to attend to this evening.”

Oh right, the fight—how could she forget? “I guess that brawl is kind of pointless then, isn’t it?”

“Aye; perhaps why Gold seemed unperturbed by the idea.”

“Then what’s the point in letting it happen? Do you think you can stop it?” It was probably because she was fairly young and hadn’t been fully indoctrinated to the cause, but the thought of an inconsequential fight that had even a slight chance of becoming something worse—because, with the way tensions ran, that was alway a possibility—made her really nervous.

“I’ll certainly try; I agree, I don’t like the thought of unnecessary fighting, either.” And he’d probably seen more than his fair share of it. “Whatever happens, I’ll come find you when it’s all done—I promise.”

“I will hunt you down if you don’t.”

“I wouldn’t expect any less.”

She kissed him again, slower and sweeter than before. “Ugh, I don’t want to go, but this skip will pay rent for a month.”

“I don’t want you to go, but it’d be ungentlemanly to make you late for work.”

“Do you always have to be one?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

Thankfully, they had enough time for one more make out, and she was already making a mental note to hit a drug store later for some perfume; his scent was probably embedded in her pores at this point. (She also mentioned he might want to do the same; he said he’d stop by his apartment before heading to the fight.)

Eventually, they righted themselves and made their way out of the room, pausing for one last, slow kiss in the hallway after locking the door.

“Not a moment will go by I don’t think of you,” Killian murmured, but he may as well have shouted it for as hard as it hit her.

“Good,” she replied, hoping he heard how much she meant the same thing back.

With one final peck, she dashed out the back door and into the night, off to whatever seedy bar she was finding the scumbag-of-the-week. Hopefully, this would be a quick one—she already missed Killian.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

For a moment after Emma left, Killian stood stock still in the hallway, Emma’s scent lingering around him as his fingers traced the feel of her lips on his. That was not at all how he anticipated this encounter to go—he was fairly old fashioned in some senses, especially when it came to someone he wanted to court properly—but any complaint had died before he could give it voice. In a way, they were just making up for lost time, he supposed.

And he would see to it that they weren’t limited in that regard ahead.

Granny gave a lascivious wink when he placed the key on the counter in the diner, and he was sure she’d have more to say were the evening crowd (as it were) not filling up the place. He used that to his advantage and took his leave, even though he still had a few hours until he was due anywhere.

He spent a bit of time at the docks, mulling over how they’d changed over the years (and eyeing the ships for sale; he’d had to sell his last one and was in the market for something new, especially if a quick getaway might be needed at some point), before keeping his promise to Emma and stopping at his apartment for some fresh cologne to cover her scent. How no one had noticed it the night before was a mild miracle, but adrenaline would be running strong tonight and senses would be on high alert.

(He so loathed to erase the evidence of her on his person, though.)

There was still time to kill, so he walked slowly (well, for him) in the direction of the lot, even patiently waiting for crossing lights to indicate the all clear rather than dart out early like most New Yorkers did. He should probably find a snack, since he didn’t get to finish his drink at Granny’s; a hunger-like pang was stirring within, but there wasn’t enough time for that now.

The lot was mostly empty when he arrived, and the street oddly quiet; at least that boded well for this rendezvous—and perhaps he’d be able to maintain the peace.

As he got closer, a pinprick of light burned out of the darkness; it took but a millisecond for his eyes to adjust and see that Robin was waiting, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers.

“You’ll smoke yourself into an early grave,” Killian scolded lightly, as he’d done many times before.

“Tis a pity I never got the chance, then, aye?” Robin tossed back. He and his wife had been emigrating to America in the mid-1800s when scarlet fever broke out on their ship; his wife and unborn child didn’t make it, but somehow, Gold had been aboard, and turned Robin before the disease claimed him as well.

In life, Robin had never had the money to maintain a tobacco habit, but once he found himself with unlimited time—and lungs that would never damage—he’d taken it up with gusto.

“Just don’t let me catch you vaporizing, or whatever it is,” Killian teased.

“Vaping, and no, never.”

They waited in companionable silence as Robin finished his cigarette and started on another. That caught Killian’s interest; while smoking might be a favored hobby for Robin, he’d never been known to indulge in chain smoking—unless he was nervous.

Footsteps on the other end of the lot drew their attention; David, Graham, and the others (though thankfully not Zelena) stepped from the shadows. At the sight, the twisting in his gut coiled again, and an ancient feeling washed over him: trepidation. He hadn’t felt that since...god, not since Yorktown.

And that clearly ended well. (He thought to himself, sarcastically.)

He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for his sense of dread; it was certainly not the first time the two teams had gone head-to-head (even if he hoped it might be the last). He couldn’t count the number of lives lost to the feud over the centuries—thankfully few innocent ones, but the number of siblings-in-arms sacrificed to the cause was far too high.

He’d never been nervous before any of those encounters. So why was this one giving him anxiety?

(Because so much was riding on this. Because he didn’t want to let Emma down.)

Will and Henry appeared out of nowhere, suddenly behind them, and if it was possible for the scene to get even more silent, it did. The men were lined up shoulder to shoulder in two opposing lines; it was like the standoff in a terrible spaghetti western, but without the benefit of a Morricone score.

The tension was palpable as they all stood stone-still, waiting for the other side to make any sort of move. It would have been the perfect time for Killian to intervene—convince them all to back down—but he was too worried that even so much as a pin drop would make waves.

In the end, it turned out to be the drop of cigarette ash that sent things into motion; Robin’s burnt end had barely hit the ground before he and Graham were on top of each other, snarling and slashing in the middle of the carpark.

An outsider would have thought it was some strange dance, or possibly performance art, with the way they clamored at each other but never seemed to land any blows. But Killian’s keen eyes could see each dodge of a body from a clawing limb, their extended fangs thirsting for blood, and the way Graham curled inward when Robin landed a first, firm punch on the other man’s stomach; that finally drew Killian from his stupor.

“No; that’s enough!” he shouted, then put himself between them. “We don’t need to do this.”

Despite his advanced age, he didn’t have as much an advantage over the two of them as he thought he did; they simply jumped away and continued. Before he could step in again, a firm hand had him by the shoulder.

“Hey, this was your idea; what kind of power grab is this?” David growled; his other hand was curled into a fist. Should have known he’d be itching for a fight, too.

“You really think this will solve anything?” Killian spat. “Our bosses don’t care; this goes way beyond us, mate.”

Killian threw him off and made for the other two, who were now wrapped in what he guessed was some sort of wrestling move, arms gripped on the other’s shoulders. But before he got all the way there, David jumped in front of him.

“I’m not your mate.” David was glaring and trying to use his height advantage to intimidate, but Killian wouldn’t dare hurt the father of his love, even if he was his opponent at the moment.

“Fine, but I’m not your enemy either; you don’t even know what you’re fighting for.”

“You think I don’t know?” Now he was moving toward Killian—though, over his shoulder, he could see that Robin had landed another punch, this time on Graham’s chest. “Aurum turned me and my wife against our will. Aurum made our daughter grow up without her parents. You just take and take, and do whatever you want without facing the consequences. And now, what—you think you can get out of them because you might lose?” The irony in that statement, of course, being that Robin had now hit Graham in the jaw, who had paused to cradle his sore chin.

“But you have her now; doesn’t that count for anything?” Killian pleaded.

He realized as soon as he said it that he’d made a grave error. David stopped, taken aback. “How did you know that?” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Killian didn’t take the time to answer; with any luck, that would be explained later. He jumped on the opportunity presented and dashed toward Robin and Graham again, pushing Robin away as he was about to make what would likely be the winning blow.

“Bloody hell, mate,” Robin sputtered, and Killian was about to reply, except he was suddenly face down on the pavement after something that felt vaguely like a foot hit him in the back.

“What game are you playing, Jones?” David yelled from above, giving Killian a good idea of who had attacked him. He was back on his feet in an instant, and so were the rest of the gangs, all around them. Fuck; so much for not bringing anyone else in.

It was Robin’s turn to step in front of Killian. “Are you trying to start a rumble, Nolan?”

“I didn’t start anything, but I will if that’s what you want.” Next to him, Graham pulled a suspiciously long, slender object from a pocket, and the subsequent swish of the weapon confirmed: he had a switchblade.

And a second later, Robin had pulled his own out.

They were immediately back on top of each other, with the others egging them on— “Right in the heart, Robin!” “Go for the neck, Graham!”

Killian’s lone attempt to pull Graham back (he was the closest to him at the time) ended with him also being pulled away by Jefferson; he and David restrained Killian and while he might have been able to shake off one of them, the two of them together were too much. He had to watch helplessly as the two in the center continued to swipe at each other, blades glinting dangerously in the murky streetlights.

It was still only until first blood, right? And that was bound to happen faster now that sharp edges were involved.

Almost in slow motion, he watched as the tip of Robin’s blade sliced at Graham’s cheek, leaving behind a thin line of red. He sighed in relief, little as he needed that breath; that was it—it was done.

David and Jefferson loosened their grip on him and he shook them off, not withholding a glare in David’s direction. He then turned to face Robin, to get him—all of them—out of there as quickly as possible, but his voice got stuck in his throat.

While Robin had barely relaxed, let down his guard for the briefest of seconds, Graham lunged at him and sank his blade into Robin’s chest.

Into Robin’s heart.

The world stood still for a moment as everyone stared in shock, and the reality of what just happened washed over Killian. It wasn’t until Graham jerked the blade free, dripping blood—Robin’s blood—on the ground, that he was jolted enough from his stupor to move.

“No!” Killian screamed, then ran to his friend just as he collapsed. “No, no, no,” he muttered, pressing a hand against Robin’s wound, but there was no use for it—a vampire was just as susceptible to that kind of stabbing as a mortal was.

Robin was gasping for air, useless as it was, as his lifeblood spilled out onto the asphalt below him, quite literally draining the life from him; little would be left in a few moments but ash and memories. If Killian could cry, he’d have been sobbing.

“Tell—tell ‘gina—” Robin stammered, but was quickly losing energy.

He knew what he was asking, anyways. “I’ll tell Regina,” he promised.

With his last bit of strength, Robin wrapped his hand around Killian’s and squeezed, smiling, as death finally came for him. It was fast—too fast, but wounds like that always led to a quick death. It wasn’t the first time Killian had held another person as they disintegrated in his hold, but it was by far the most painful. And the most unwarranted.

The dust that had been Robin settled in the air around him, landing on his hand where blood was still fresh. In more ways than one, Killian began to see red.

Without thinking, he grabbed Robin’s abandoned switchblade and in one swift moment, stood and shoved it at Graham, instinctively finding his most vulnerable spot.

Graham stammered back, pulling the weapon out—and hastening his own demise. All too quickly, he collapsed on his knees, his team gathering around him, and a moment later, he too was ash.

A sharp wind off the ocean blew Graham’s remains toward Killian, bringing with them the realization of what he had done:

He’d killed a member of Emma’s coven—practically her family.

And he’d done nothing to end the feud; if anything, he escalated it.

Bloody fuck, what had he done?

And what could he do now?

He stared in horror at the blood around him, trying to formulate a plan, when Will blessedly broke the fragile silence.

“Rozzers!” he shouted, then began to run, only to see no one else move. “Cops?” he translated into American English, which got the reaction he was looking for; everyone hopped to their feet and ran. No one wanted to explain this scene to mortal police.

Everyone but Killian. He wondered if his feet had become concrete, he was so rooted in place. It wasn’t until Will was in his face, urging him to move, that he did.

“Do you have somewhere to lay low? I don’t think Coroza is gonna let this one go,” he asked as they dashed from the lot.

His thoughts immediately turned to Emma, suicidal as that likely was. Could he drag her into this? Or would that be the least likely place they’d look?

He’d have to risk it. “Aye, I do.”

“Alright, then go; the less I know the better. Good luck, mate,” Will told him, then ran in another direction; belatedly, Killian realized, headed toward where Belle lived.

There was no time to dwell on that, though, and he changed course to head uptown. He had no idea what lay ahead, but he knew one thing: whatever it was, he wanted Emma at his side.

(Assuming, that is, she forgave him.)

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

thanks for reading, friends! let me know if you want/don’t want a tag! @kat2609 @xpumpkindumplingx @shipsxahoy @amortentia-on-the-rocks @mryddinwilt @cocohook38 @annytecture @shireness-says @ohmightydevviepuu @profdanglaisstuff @wingedlioness @word-bug @distant-rose @wellhellotragic @welllpthisishappening @let-it-raines @pirateherokillian @bleebug @its-imperator-furiosa @fergus80 @killianmesmalls @sherlockianwhovian @ineffablecolors @laschatzi @ive-always-been-a-pirate @nfbagelperson @stubblesandwich @lenfaz @phiralovesloki @athenascarlet @ilovemesomekillianjones @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snowbellewells @idristardis @scientificapricot @searchingwardrobes @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda

#cssns20 #cssns 2020 #cs ff #cs vampire au #cs smut #even death won't part us now #my ff

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twiceinadream · 4 years ago

Text

“The little things.”

Requested: Yup

Prompt: Rich girl Tzuyu meets poor, eccentric artist Chaeyoung when the younger girl stumbles into the underground bar where Chaeyoung works. Tzuyu is feeling lost and lonely after discovering her college friends were only talking to her because of her dad's money, but she finds in Chaeyoung a warm smile and an unlikely friend, and quickly finds herself falling for the other girl despite their differences as Chaeyoung shows her a world she's never known before.

a/u: This is one of my entries in the @girlcrushficexchange, the other one will be posted tomorrow. Thanks for all the love and support and I hope you enjoy!

Category: Fluff and Angst

Word count: 3.5k

Tzuyu couldn’t recall how it went down exactly. She remembers entering the café her friends and she would typically meet up at after classes on Friday had finished as they talked about their weekend plans or parties they had heard some frat or sorority was throwing. But in truth, the Taiwanese girl could care less about all of these, having enough of that when she was growing up surrounded by the socially elite back in Taiwan. Thanks to her family’s namesake and fortune, which she had to admit did have its perks. Especially when it came to the trust fund her parents had given to her before she left to study abroad, which gave her the luxury of affording nearly anything she needed or wanted. Which unfortunately for her, her “friends” noticed as well. Leading to the fall of Tzuyu’s social life in Korea.

She had been running late to meet up with her friends since her last class had run on a lot longer than usual, because their professor had arrived half an hour late due to traffic and poor time management on their part. But, that was then and an out of breath Tzuyu was now as she had jogged most of the way to the café to her small group of friends. She quietly opened the door to the shop so as to not disturb the quiet atmosphere that always seemed to hang in the air of the café as the smell of coffee grounds and fresh pastries began to fill Tzuyu’s nose. Causing her stomach to make the distinct sound of a whale mating call to signal that she hadn’t eaten since this morning and it was already late evening. She spotted her friends at their usual booth in the back corner, all of them huddled together as they talked quietly. Tzuyu slowly made her way over so as to not startle them when their conversation suddenly caught her attention.

“...a new club just opened downtown.” One of her friends said as she looked at the other two across from her.

“Yeah, but it’s expensive. We’re not getting in.” Another said, but the girl before just smiled.

“You’re forgetting, we have our own little ‘trust fund baby’. We’ll just get Tzuyu to pay like always. That’s why we keep her isn’t it.” The three girls laughed out loud. Completely oblivious to Tzuyu who was standing less than three feet away.

“W...what?” The laughter suddenly stopped as Tzuyu’s voice broke through the café, their heads turning to the Taiwanese girl as her eyes filled with hurt.

“Tzu, wait…” But their calls fell on deaf ears as Tzuyu ran out of the café and didn’t stop running. Her lungs and legs burned as she kept going, not stopping till she was as far away from her “friends” as her body would take her. When she finally stopped to catch her breath, she was shocked to see that she was surrounded by unfamiliar buildings and alleyways, as the sky began to darken and a light drizzle started to come down.

Tzuyu walked quickly as her hair began to dampen in the rain and her clothes became heavy with water, searching the neon signs for any open shop or store. Before settling on a bar closest to her as the light drizzle became a downpour. The first thing that greeted Tzuyu was the warmth of the bar as she used a hand to wipe away the tears and raindrops on her face before standing up straighter and walking further into the room. Happy to find it nearly empty, save for a few business looking men in suits probably enjoying some drinks after work, as she made her way past them to sit at the bar. Brushing a few wet strands of hair away from her face when a voice greeted her.

“Can I help you?” Tzuyu looked up at the sound of the voice as she took in the shorter girl’s appearance. She smiled kindly at her as the girl’s fingers absentmindedly tapped against the wood of the bar. The girl’s hair was cut short and was obviously dyed blonde, Tzuyu’s eyes continued from the girl’s hair down to where she spotted numerous tattoos littering the girl’s arms before the sound of a throat clearing caused Tzuyu’s attention to go back to the girl’s face. An amused smile played at her soft and kissable looking lips...wait what!? Tzuyu shook her head as she broke herself out of her trance as she met the shorter girl’s eyes, a dark blush taking over her cheeks as she cleared her throat.

“Sorry, what?” The girl just continued to smile as she shook her head playfully.

“I asked, ‘Can I help you?’.” Tzuyu was suddenly dumbstruck as she opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Realizing that she had no idea what to order, she had never actually been to a bar by herself before. Usually relying on her “friends” to get something for her or just nursing a can of soda or a bottle of water the entire night. But, now that the moment finally came she was at a complete loss for words.

The Taiwanese native’s brows furrowed as she looked around the bar for a menu, only to come up empty as she gave the blonde girl a shy smile, “Um..do you recommend anything, Miss...uh?”

“Chaeyoung. Son Chaeyoung.” Chaeyoung said with a smile, “You?”

“Tzuyu. Chou Tzuyu.” Tzuyu returned Chaeyoung’s smile as the blonde nodded seemingly testing the sound of her name like wine.

“Tzuyu, huh. That’s a really beautiful name,” Chae’s eyes did a once over of the taller girl, “fitting for a beautiful girl like yourself.” She said with a wink, causing the Taiwanese girl to blush a deep shade of red that made the bartender laugh as she moved to make a drink for the girl. Which happened to just be a simple can of Sprite with a glass of ice, since Chaeyoung had been working as a bartender for a good while now and she had learned to have a sixth sense when it came to sensing people, and from what she could tell about the girl in front of her was that she basically filled two of her three categories for going to a bar.

After setting down the drink Chaeyoung took the bills that were handed to her, her brows raising at the amount she was given as she placed them in her apron pocket before turning back to Tzuyu as she poured some of the liquid out of the can and into the glass. Chae looked at her curiously, “What?” Was the first words out of the Taiwanese girl’s mouth, as Chaeyoung folded her arms on the bar as she looked at her.

“Are you okay?” The blonde asked sincerely, a look of genuine concern in her eyes.

But, Tzuyu just shrugged and brushed off the question with another question, “Why do you ask?”

“Well, since I’ve been bartending for quite some time now, I’ve learned there are three categories you could place people in when they come to a bar.” She held up her index, “One, sad.” She held up her index and middle, “Two, spoiled.” Finally she held up her index, middle, and ring, “ And three, looking to get laid.” The statement made Tzuyu raise an eyebrow at the shorter girl’s questionable rationale.

“So, you just go about making assumptions about your patrons?” That made Chaeyoung shrug as she moved to grab a glass and towel, cleaning it as she continued.

“Not always, but judging by your appearance and that you came to the bar at pretty much our dead hour, I’m gonna say you fall into categories one and two. So I’m gonna assume...daddy cut you off?” Chaeyoung’s horribly crude and specific assumption caused the brunette to scoff and cross her arms in offense.

Her tone was harsh as she spoke, “No. And what business do you have talking to me like this? You don’t know me or anything about me to make such outlandish assumptions about my life.” But, that didn’t seem to deter the blonde in the slightest as she rolled her eyes.

“Oh please, you read like an open book.” Chaeyoung’s voice had taken on a more arrogant tone that made Tzuyu huff in disapproval.

“I certainly do not.” This made Chae let out a sigh as she shook her head.

“Wanna bet?” Tzuyu didn’t respond, only raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow, practically daring the shorter girl to continue, “Fine.” Chaeyoung immediately reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the two bills she had been handed earlier and held them in front of Tzuyu's face, “You gave me ₩100,000 for a ₩12,000 drink, and you don’t look a day over eighteen.” This made the Taiwanese frown as she quickly snatched the money from Chaeyoung’s hands and opened her wallet, revealing more money than a typical college student would carry.

“So what? I can’t have ₩100,000 at the ready?” Chae just clicked her tongue.

“No, but, you didn’t seem to panic over the fact you gave me money I could have just easily pocketed and you probably wouldn’t have noticed it was missing.”

“Your point? That still doesn’t prove that your insistent insinuation that I’m ‘spoiled’ holds any ground.” But, that just made Chaeyoung roll her eyes again.

“Yeah, and I’m 160 cm.” The blonde said as she once again leaned against the bar, “So, really? What brings you here?” That single seemed like a key as all of Tzuyu’s struggles seemed to just open like flood gates. As she went on to talk about her childhood, which proved Chaeyoung’s suspicions about her being rich. And what it was like moving to Korea and how her “friends” had been just using her for her money. Leading to Chaeyoung sharing about some of her past as well, and how she’d been on her own since fifteen after her: parents, brother, and grandmother passed away in a car accident.

The conversation between the two flowed like a river as they talked for hours, not noticing how much time had gone by until the bar began to fill up with more people. Tzuyu finally realized how late it had gotten. Smiling sheepishly at Chaeyoung as she took out a pen from her purse, and discreetly wrote her number on a napkin before plucking out a few more bills as she handed it over to the blonde. As she got up from the bar, that was beginning to get more crowded. Waving to the shorter girl as she left, calling an Uber to her apartment when she heard her phone buzz in her purse.

Unknown Number

Hey, it’s Chaeyoung from

the bar. Text me when you

get home, so I know you’re

safe :)

The small gesture made Tzuyu smile as she sat back in the car, maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

-1 Week Later-

After meeting at the bar, the two had been talking on and off for the past week, till Tzuyu finally mustered up the courage to invite Chaeyoung to her apartment to finally thank her for listening to her that night. Smiling as she got a resounding, ‘Yes!’ From the older girl, that she was...maybe, sorta, falling for.

Chaeyoung let out a low whistle as she took in the surrounding area of Tzuyu’s condo: brand new furniture, stainless steel appliances, floor to ceiling windows. The blonde shook her head, a small smile gracing her lips, “Money really can buy you anything.”

However, Chaeyoung’s little comment didn’t seem to sit well with Tzuyu as she crossed her arms, “That’s quite presumptuous, wouldn’t say? Assuming I just buy whatever I please.” But, Chaeyoung just shrugged as she turned to look at the brunette.

“Are you happy?” It was a simple question but Tzuyu couldn’t find it in herself to actually answer it. So she did what she did best and just deflected it.

“Well that’s very rude. You shouldn’t be asking me this.” But the blonde was persistent as she took a step closer.

“It’s a simple question. Are you happy or not?” That made the taller girl’s eyebrow raise in question as she eyed the shorter girl.

“This is not a suitable conversation we should be having.” The deflection just made Chaeyoung roll her eyes as she gripped her sketchbook a little harder.

“Why can’t you just answer the question?” That made Tzuyu scoff as she took a few steps away from the blonde.

“This is absurd. We are not having this conversation, we barely know each other and you are rude, uncouth, and unpresumptuous.” Tzuyu held out her hand for Chaeyoung to take as she began to shake it, “And I will be leaving now, Chaeyoung. Miss Son! It’s been a pleasure, I have sought out to thank you and I have thanked you.”

Chae smiled as Tzuyu kept shaking her hand, “And you’ve insulted me.” That made the Taiwanese girl scoff.

“Well you deserved it.” Chaeyoung just nodded as their hands were still joined in a hand shake.

“Right.”

However, their handshake continued, making the shorter girl bite back a smile, “I thought you were leaving?”

“Oh, I am.” Tzuyu said in a huff as she finally released their hands, “You are so annoying!” Turning on her heels as Chaeyoung let out a laugh behind her. Stopping her in her tracks as she turned around to face her once more, “Wait! I don’t have to leave, this is my house.” Tzuyu walked back to where she was standing next to the shorter girl as she pointed towards the door, “You leave!”

However that just made the blonde laugh, “Well, well, well.” Chae used her sketchbook to point at Tzuyu as she shook her head, “Now who’s being rude?” That caused the brunette to scoff as she grabbed the sketchbook out of Chaeyoung’s hand.

“What is this stupid thing you’re carrying around, anyways?” She opened the book that was littered with different sketches and doodles, “Are you an artist or something?” However as she flipped through more of the pages she couldn’t help but admire the work that she was holding, moving to sit on the arm of her couch. “They’re rather good.” When finally settled further into the seat she opened the book further, “They’re very good actually.” Tzuyu couldn’t help but look up to the Korean girl who was now sitting next to her, “This is exquisite work.”

Chaeyoung just shrugged, “Well, they didn’t seem to think much of it in old Paris.” The accent tinted French made Tzuyu smile as she looked at the art.

“You really do get around for a po…” Before she could finish the word she cut herself off as she gave Chaeyoung a shy smile.

Which made the older girl laugh, “It’s okay, you can say it. I’m a poor girl.” Tzuyu just shook her head as she continued to look through the blonde’s work.

“Where did you ever learn to draw like this?” The question was genuine as Chae just offered her a smile.

“If you’re free on Friday I could take you?” Tzuyu looked up in thought before nodding.

“Friday sounds perfect.”

-Friday-

The car ride there was pretty uneventful, considering Tzuyu had been asleep for most of it. Classes that week had been a thorn in her side since finals were that week and she was exhausted, not the Chaeyoung minded. The drive was calm and if letting the girl beside her relax was by her sleeping, that was perfectly okay in her book. And, well, Tzuyu was really pretty when she was sleeping. The longer she drove the high rises of the city began to fade away as they were taken over by the nearly forgotten villages near the outskirts of Seoul. The villages that Chaeyoung had drifted through growing up, where she truly found her passion. A soft smile came to her face as she pulled up to the entrance of an old night market, casting a look over to the sleeping girl before waking her up.

“Tzuyu. Hey, Tzuyu, we’re here.” Chaeyoung lightly shook the sleeping girl till her eyes slowly opened, brown meeting brown in an intense stare before the blonde quickly looked away blushing slightly. “Anyways, we’re here.” The artist pointed out the window towards the opening of a sprawling market of tents. The sight took Tzuyu by surprise as she marveled at the lights and smell that greeted her as she opened the door. A fond smile seemed to grow on Chaeyoung’s face as she looked at the market, “You asked where I learned how to draw, so I decided that I’d bring you there. But, I also thought, might as well show you the little things here too.” The artist winked as she began walking into the opening of the market, with Tzuyu close on her heels.

The pair had barely made it a few steps in when Chaeyoung was already bum rushed by a small army of children who pulled at her arms as she knelt on the ground, bringing them into a hug as they all began talking at once. Making her hold out her hands as she let out a laugh, “One at a time, one at a time.” The children all frowned but that didn’t last long when their attention was drawn to Tzuyu who was standing awkwardly behind Chaeyoung. Their eyes lighting up as they began talking amongst themselves.

“Who’s she?”

“She looks like a Princess.”

“I wanna marry her.”

“Is she a giant?”

Among other things, Chae stood up and looked to Tzuyu before grabbing her hand and leading her to kneel on the ground so she didn’t look so intimidating to the kids, “This is Tzuyu.” The kids looked at her stunned silence, they had never heard of a name like that before.

“Where are you from?” A little girl asked her.

The sincerity of the question made her smile as she replied, “I’m from Taiwan.” The kids seemed to look at her in even more awe that she’s a foreigner and once again began talking over each other as they bombarded Tzuyu with question upon question that Chae put a stop to.

“Guys! I’m sure Tzuyu would love to answer all your questions, but right now I want to show her around, okay?” A chorus of, “Awws.” seemed to follow Chaeyoung’s words as she helped Tzuyu stand. As they waved bye to the kids as they ventured further into the market. Each stall they passed seemed to be filled with something new, whether it be art or food, it was like nothing Tzuyu had ever experienced before. And frankly, she loved it. Along the way, Tzuyu couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it had happened but her and Chaeyoung’s hands had intertwined as they continued their journey. Stopping at a good vendor that the blonde had claimed had the best tteokbokki in the world. After they placed their order Tzuyu was about to let go of Chae’s hand so she could get her purse but the artist put a hand on her bag as she smiled, “Tonight’s on me.”

After having the best tteokbokki the brunette had ever had they finally made their way out to the far side of the market that looked over a canal that Tzuyu soon realized was littered with street art all along its walls. The art style hauntingly similar to the one of the blonde’s.

“And this is where it all started.” Chae held out her arm in a sweeping motion as she emphasized the art before them, a smile growing on Tzuyu’s face as she looked down into the canal. The moon reflecting perfectly on the water as she looked on in wonder, it truly was beautiful. Much like her companion who she realized was now staring at her. Which caused the blonde to blush as she quickly averted her eyes, “Thanks for coming with today, Tzu. I had a lot of fun and it was nice getting to show you the little things in life that really make the world go round.”

The brunette returned her smile as their eyes once again met, “I think I could get used to the little things.” Chaeyoung didn’t miss the smirk that was playing at the taller girl’s lips as she scowled.

“Really, Tzumong? I compliment you and you make a short joke.” The outburst caused the Taiwanese native to laugh out loud as she pulled Chaeyoung closer to her. Leaning down ever so slightly.

“You’re ruining the moment Chaengie.” The blonde just rolled her eyes as she pulled Tzuyu in close.

“Shut up and kiss me.” Tzuyu couldn’t help but smile as she pulled her in, their lips connecting in a kiss. She couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as a final thought crossed her mind.

‘I think I’m really starting to like the little thing.”

#fortwice #twice #twice imagines #twice prompts #twice oneshot #twice fluff #twice angst #bartender au #son chaeyoung #chou tzuyu #twice Chaeyoung #twice Tzuyu #rich girl! tzuyu #poor artist! chaeyoung #twiceinadream #anonymous

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