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↠ about azri - she/they, 23, poc (asian), and afab - bisexual ↠ about my writing - this blog is dedicated to my writing, mostly will be aot or levi x reader works. other fandoms include: jjk, alice in borderland (tv), love and deepspace (game) - all my works are 18+ only. minors, do not interact. - i will not write about non-con, incest, and the likes that are heavily triggering but please still be mindful of the tags i will put. but i will probably mostly write angst. - i'm a busy person. i work full-time and is still in uni so pls don't demand updates ! it's ok to ask about it but pls be nice ! :(

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blipped: before the snap

title: blipped: before the snap pairing: brother’s best friend!yoongi x female reader genre: major angst !!, fluff, brother’s best friend au, unrequited love, set in the marvel cinematic universe (mcu), slow burn?, implied age gap, heavy themes, the blip is kinda fucked up if u think abt it, brother!namjoon, bestfriend!taehyung warnings: manipulative and abusive mom, family issues, y/n has a careless one night stand, mentions of death and funeral, no smut for this part yet, this part is a bit boring i'm really sorry. disclaimer: you can read this without knowing anything marvel at all. word count: 19k a/n: thank you so much for 100 notes on the preview and for 200+ followers T.T i'm crying. let me know if i should continue this because the reason this took so long was bc i'm anxious that it is not at all entertaining lol. i'm not finished with part 2 yet it's only at roughly 10k words rn. let me know what you want to see in part 2 if you're interested.

index > part 2

For as long as you know, it’s always just been you and Namjoon. 

Your parents were divorced, your mother a drunk, and your father a classic no-show. It didn’t really bother you that much, you always say. Although you didn’t mean it, you pretend you do. Not only for yourself but also for your brother. Your brother, the one having to work two jobs since a teenager. Your brother, who learned how to braid your hair when you were little because your mom never bothered to teach you. Your brother, who cried when he learned you were picked on in preschool. Your brother, who helped you with your math when your teacher gave you a D. Your brother, who drove you to sleepovers. Your brother, who scolded you when you had your first alcohol with your friends in high school, who, the next week, brought you liquor to teach you how to drink properly, saying that if you wanted to learn to drink, better that it’d be with his guidance so he knows that you will always be safe. 

Your brother, who was your best friend, your mother, and your father. 

That’s why with you, always comes Namjoon, and with Namjoon always comes Min Yoongi. 

Namjoon met Yoongi when they were in college. Being broke college students, they agreed to become roommates. Eventually, they became best friends. Platonic soulmates, the people in their university always say. They were good people with good hearts. Many were envious of their bond. Including you. You were never really good with people. While you do have your own friends, you never really had someone you can call your best friend except for your brother. You never told him this; you didn’t have to. He never made you feel alone. He even introduced you to Yoongi and the boy treated you absolutely well. At first, you doubted your friendship with Yoongi. You always thought you were just a liability—something that came as a plus-one with Namjoon that he can’t really shake off. 

But even if that thought always creeps at the back of your head, you have always had a crush on the charismatic man with the gummy smile. It was just a harmless admiration at first. And to be honest, you never really knew how you liked him in that way. With Yoongi being away from his family, he would always say that Namjoon is his brother, and you, his own little sister. And it would hurt you every time. 

It was your senior year in high school. You were in a tight little black dress, you thought it looked better on you than it collecting dust in your mother’s closet. Your friends had invited you to a house party of some football player. Namjoon didn’t like you going to parties without him knowing even if he was more than an hour away in college. And you, in your angsty teenage years, that bothered you. You wanted to not be treated like a child anymore. So you went to the party and pulled out an outfit you normally wouldn’t wear even at a party like this. 

Somehow, you think that this would convince you that you are no longer a child. But being a child, mistakes are to be made. And you made a lot of mistakes that night.

“Y/N, you look amazing!” Your friend, Sana, screeched as soon as you entered with Mina, another friend of yours who gave you a ride. “How come you never dress like this? you look stunning!” 

“Yeah, that’s what I told her too.” Mina agrees, hugging her after you.

You roll your eyes and wave a hand. “Yeah, yeah, you guys look amazing too. Where are the drinks?” 

Sana points to the kitchen. “They’re in the kitc– Oh!” She is suddenly interrupted when her boyfriend, Seojoon, hugs her from behind. “Hey, baby. I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” And just like that, she bids the two of you goodbye. 

“Ugh, I hate lovers.” Mina groans and fakes a vomit. 

You laugh and point out the irony of her words. “Says the same person who’s looking to get laid tonight.” You tease as the both of you head to the kitchen to get some drinks in your system. 

“And as you should too, you bitch! If you would stop pining at your brother’s hot best friend, you would see how many guys actually have a crush on you here.” 

“Hold on, I’m not yet drunk enough for this conversation.” You hold up a hand.

The unpleasant taste of alcohol flows down your tongue as you tilt your head back and gulp down the rest of your drink.

“Okay, go.” You allow her to continue while refilling your cup.

“I’m just saying, maybe if you eliminate Yoongi from your options, you would actually get to move on from him, you know?” 

While actually considering her suggestion, you sigh. “It’s not that easy, Mina.” 

As you tell her that, you notice her eyes drifting away from you. With this, you already know that she found her target for the night. 

“Well, Y/N, it could be just for tonight. We’re seniors, yeah? Would you please enjoy yourself?” She says genuinely while holding both of your cheeks. 

“Fine, fine, go.” You tell her because you know she wants to approach the guy she saw.

“No. No. I’m not leaving you alone if you’re just going to sulk here.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest.

“I’m fine! Just go! He’s looking at you already.” You push her. Mina groans and she kisses your cheek, grabbing her cup and heading away.

“Text me if you wanna go home and I’ll come and get you, okay?” 

“I will. I will.” You assure her, waving your hand for her to go.

As you were left alone, watching people you have classes with play beer pong, your friend’s words lingered. 

You came here tonight to be different. You weren’t Y/N who was worried about getting a scholarship to university. You weren’t Y/N who didn’t have loving parents. You weren’t Y/N who had a brother that would be angry when he knows you are at a party he doesn’t know. 

You weren’t Y/N who was hopelessly in love with her brother’s best friend, Min Yoongi. 

“It’s just for tonight.” You tell yourself as you down your cup again. 

And that probably is why, at 3 o’clock in the middle of the dark morning, you find yourself on Choi Wooshik’s bed. 

The said man was asleep beside you. A pang of pain hits your head when you open your eyes which indicates you drank more than usual. Despite having been in the influence, you still remember hooking up with the guy in the same year—and now bed—as you. 

“Y/N, you stupid shit.” You whisper to yourself.

It was the first time you had a one-night stand. You weren’t a virgin–no, that happened when you were 16 and you brought home your boyfriend that Namjoon didn’t know about. The relationship lasted for five months, which came to a halt after your sex. You didn’t really mind. You never liked him anyway. But it did hurt to be used. But this was completely different. Your mind went into a spiral. 

Did we use a condom? Oh my god, what if I get pregnant? I’m not ready to be a mother. I have a scholarship. What would happen to college? 

Gosh, what would Namjoon say if I get pregnant? He’s gonna kill me. He’s gonna have to take care of me and the baby and I would be more of a burden. What would Yoongi think of you then? You will be a bad mother.

With tears practically prodding out of your eyes, you dress up and look for used contraception in the trash can—which you did not see, making you panic more. You wanted to call Namjoon to come to pick you up. 

But you got scared. You know he has an exam coming up in Taxation, which you know is a difficult course because he has been studying for it for weeks. And plus, you were scared of his reaction to your recklessness.

You thought of Mina. You could call her and ask for help. Maybe she hasn’t gone home. You scramble to look for your phone and when you did, you mentally curse. 

Oh fuck, your phone is dead. 

Wooshik’s phone, however, sits at the bedside table ready for you to use. You go through his contacts and find Mina’s name. You cuss after realizing it wasn’t there.

The problem is that you only have Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s contact memorized. There could probably be another option but you weren’t really thinking straight.

Before you knew it, you were dialing Yoongi outside of the house of Wooshik. He answers in five seconds.

“Yoongi?” You call in a whisper.

“Y/N? God, it’s like three in the morning. What’s up?”

He sounds like he just woke up, voice groggy and worried, maybe a bit annoyed too. You know he doesn’t like his sleep interrupted.

You don’t know if he heard your sobs but he probably did when his voice turns to pure worry. “Bub? What’s wrong?” He asks again when you don’t answer, using that damned nickname for you. 

“Y-yoongi– I–... please don’t tell Joonie.” You sob. 

“Where are you, Y/N?” He asks, sternly this time, sounding fully awake unlike a few seconds ago. 

You tell him what happened and he listens carefully. He didn’t say much, only asked you where you were, and said he would come to pick you up. You told him to come and pick you up at the 24-hour diner where you and Joon are regulars which eventually, Joon brought Yoongi whenever they would visit. 

Mrs. Park, a woman who worked there, gave you chocolate chip pancakes as soon as she saw you. It was your favorite breakfast. Namjoon, on the other hand, likes blueberry pancakes.

“Bad night?” She asks when she places down the pancakes. 

You nod sadly and give her a small smile. “Please don’t tell Joon about this.” You sigh. 

She shakes her head. “I won’t if you eventually do.” She tells you in a scolding tone. You chuckle and nod, not really sure if you were telling the truth.

Forty-five minutes later, Yoongi arrives. He’s wearing a hoodie and zip-up jacket over it. He looks around the diner and finds you. Your eyes meet, and you could see a little bit of frustration when he spots you. 

“What are you wearing?” He asks when he sits down in front of you in the booth. You sigh and look away. 

“What? You don’t like it?” You ask, voice down and tired to make the joke. You play with your pancakes. 

“It’s just… not your style.” He actually answers. 

He sighs. “Finish that and then drink this.” He puts down a small brown bag beside your plate. 

You were still chewing your food when you asked. “What’s this?” You open the bag and see a pack of a pill inside. 

“It’s a Plan B pill. You asked for it.” He tells you and takes off his zip up jacket. “And wear this.” He hands you the thick clothing, which you wear immediately, wanting to bask in warmness instead of the cold your revealing dress gave. 

“Hey, Yoongi. Came to take care of this brat?” Mrs. Park joked as she came to greet Yoongi, a hand on her hip. Yoongi nods. 

“Good morning, Mrs. Park.” He smiles. 

“Anything I can get for you? Pancakes? Waffle?” She asks. 

“Maybe a hashbrown and an Americano? I’m not really hungry yet. Thank you, Mrs. Park.” He answers and she replies she got it and walks away.

It was quiet after that. The both of you ate your food in silence. After you finished your pancake, you drank the pill. 

“Are you mad at me, Yoongi?” You ask him, fiddling with your fingers.

He shakes his head. “What’s with you? You don’t act recklessly like this Y/N. And doesn’t Joon know whenever you’re at a party?” 

Tears well up in your eyes again. “I-I don’t know.” You answer, head down as you stare and play with your pancakes. “I just wanted to breathe.” You mutter to yourself. You don’t know if Yoongi heard it. Even if he did, he didn’t answer.

Yoongi drove you to your mom’s house after. “Go inside.” He said. It was almost 5 in the morning, it didn’t really matter because your mom never stayed up to wait for you anyway. Hell, she probably doesn’t even know that you were out. 

You nod and remove your seatbelt. “Do you wanna come in?” You ask him. 

He shakes his head. “I need to get home before Namjoon wakes up.” 

You nod. “Alright.” You were about to open the car door when you hesitated and looked at Yoongi again. 

“Thank you, Yoongi.” You told him. “I mean it. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden to you because you’re friends with Joon.”

His brows furrowed. “What?” He looks straight into your eye.

“I mean, I know I’m just this immature and  annoying kid that comes with Namjoon as a package deal so–”

“No, no– stop. Who said you were a burden to me?” Yoongi asks seriously. Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. “You were never a burden to me, Y/N. You’re a friend.” Friend, well that’s a different one–you think. 

“Even if Namjoon doesn’t exist, I would gladly be your friend. Or your older bro.” And there it is. Your heart ached once again. You are nothing but a little sister. 

You chuckle a little, trying to distract him from the tears trying to form in your eyes again. “Y-yeah. Drive safe, Yoongi.” You say as you jump off his car, leaving Yoongi wondering what he said wrong.

High school graduation. Like Namjoon, you graduated with high honors. The both of them stood there, clapping as you received your diploma. Joon was crying like the idiot you expected him to be while Yoongi held a digital camera, filming you with a gummy smile on his face.

“Okay, look here.” Yoongi holds his camera while you hold the bouquet they brought you. Namjoon is by your side, smiling proudly. “Say cheese!” Yoongi says as he clicks the picture. 

“Right, me next! Me next!” Yoongi says as he hands the camera to Namjoon. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you closer. You blush as you feel the warmth of his body in his closeness.

“Okay. One, two, three.” Joon takes the picture. You feel yourself finally able to breathe again when Yoongi lets go of you. Then, you asked one of your friends to take a picture of the three of you. 

“They look like your gay dads.” One of your friends that saw the whole ordeal says, which the three of you laugh at.

“Well, we are a family.” Namjoon agrees to which Yoongi nodded and flashed his gummy smile at you. “Yeah, my sibling roomies soon.” 

And you smile. Yoongi is family.

“Come on, we have a reservation.”

The dress you’ve put on would definitely be one of your favorites. It isn’t really in your character to like formal dresses but the memories of this one would definitely be the reason. Albeit, you do look more beautiful in it. 

You laugh when Namjoon’s piece of steak flies off his plate, he’s always been the clumsy guy you know. He had declared the night to be your family dinner coming straight from the graduation. He wanted to throw a party but you refused, opting to go for a sweet formal dinner with him and Yoongi instead.

The dinner went wonderfully. The 5-course meal was something the three of you weren’t used to but it was something nice to treat yourselves once in a while. After the meal was over, the three of you went back to your house. Namjoon and Yoongi agreed to stay the night so they can help you move your things to the three of you’s freshly bought apartment tomorrow.

That night, you find yourself sitting on the porch of your house. Your mom didn’t even greet you, she just gave you a scoff when you entered in a beautiful dress she haven’t seen before with Namjoon and Yoongi who were wearing their suits and ties. Even if you said you didn’t mind, you actually do. 

As usual, when your brother is here, your mom doesn’t even go out of her room. She stays inside and avoids your brother the rest of the time. When she doesn’t do this, it always ends up with them shouting at each other. And since they know it’s a special occasion, you know they’re just being civil with each other for you. 

The moon looked bright today, you observed. The chilling wind of the night somehow seeps through the material thin jacket, but it helps lessen it. You rub your arms with your hands and sigh. You’re finally leaving home. It should’ve been the moment you turned eighteen like Namjoon did or the moment Namjoon told you he was stable enough to take you in. Yet you told him that it’d be better to just move after high school since it’s just a few months anyway. 

It was an excuse. 

As much as you hate it, you love your mother. She isn’t a good mother. Hell. She wasn’t even a good person either. You don’t like her, not most of the time. Not when she sold your earrings that Namjoon got you on his first paycheck to pay for her vices. Not when she ruined the project that you worked on for three days straight and when she accidentally stepped on it. She said sorry but laughed. She laughed and walked away. But even with memories like that, you know that you love her. You only get one mother and unfortunately for you, that’s her. 

You’re not sad that you’re leaving her. No. But you sure as hell isn’t happy either. You don’t understand it because all your life, all you’ve wanted to do is to leave this hell and be with Namjoon. It’s as if you’ve actually found comfort in something that you hate. You don’t understand why you’re feeling this anxiety, which is why you’re now sitting outside the house that you grew up in, looking up at the sky in the middle of the cold night. 

“What are you doing here?” 

You turn when you hear Yoongi’s voice from behind. You notice that he was holding your favorite mug and had borrowed some of Joon’s old lounge clothes. The old Attack on Titan shirt was a bit too big for him as Joon is taller. He also wears Joon’s old sweatpants from high school. 

“Hi, Yoongs.” You give him a weak smile. 

“It’s cold out here, Y/N.” He says but you shrug, scooting over and tapping the space beside you. He sighs but still sits anyway. He hands you the mug he holds which you accept with a quick thanks. 

Now, you stare at the grass in front of you, holding the warm mug of hot chocolate with two hands. The front yard is a mess, weeds were growing all over and you stopped caring about it looking nice a long time ago. It was the tip of the iceberg for people outside the house. 

You sit there for a few moments in comfortable silence. “Yoongi, can I ask you something?” You don’t look at him but you see from your peripheral vision that he shifts his eyes from in front of you to you. He nods. 

You bit your lip before finally asking. “Does life get better after high school?” 

He chuckles lightly. “Post-graduation depression?” 

You pout at his teasing tone. “Shut up.” But you sigh. “I guess that’s one of them.”

He nods and stares back at the nothingness in front of you. “Honestly, it probably doesn’t get better. Life has been and always will be a big piece of shit.” 

You laugh at his honesty. “I think that all those talks about peaking in high school are bullshit.” He continues. “It doesn’t matter if you were a nerd or were Regina George in high school. Those people saying that are either stuck in high school or are bitter about their high school experience.” 

“It’s all about how you adapt to change. Life is constantly changing. You get thrown from one place to another before you even know it. Most of the time, it sucks. But what are we supposed to do? We can’t stay in comfort in one place forever. If you get stuck, you lose.” He shrugs, leaning on his palms and staring up at the sky.

“But what if I can’t adapt at all?” You look at him, watching his beautiful face gleam in the moonlight. His eyes were sparkling, plush pink lips forming a small warm smile when he heard your words.

“That’s impossible.” He claimed. He sounded so sure of his answer that it almost irritated you. How can he be so sure that he believes so much in you? 

“How is that impossible? I always fuck up, Yoongs. I’m a fuck up.” You spat. 

“Hey.” He sits up straight and deadpans. “You are not a fuck up.” 

You let out a huff and look away from him. “Yeah, right.” 

The silence after that was loud. Yoongi had decided not to press on the topic any longer, you noticed. Not because he agrees with you, but because he knows it’s not gonna help you even if he does argue about it.

“You’re not your mother.” 

At the mention of your mother, you can’t hide your surprise as you whip your head to look at him.

“And it’s okay to move on from here, Y/N.” He assures you. Before you know it, tears are pooling in your eyes. They fall one by one as you stare at your brother’s best friend. “Your home could be not this. It doesn’t have to be her. And it definitely does not make you who you are.” 

Before contemplating your actions, you find yourself lunging at Yoongi for an embrace. He lets out a quiet yelp when you catch him by surprise.

“I’m scared.” You confess and wet his shirt with your silent tears. He laughs a little and places the mug in your one hand on the ground. After he does this, he uses both his arms to embrace you, body no longer stiff and melting with yours. 

“I know, Y/N. I know.” 

And you think to yourself, why does he make it hard for you to not like him?

That same picture you took during graduation is framed at your shared three-bedroom apartment with the two older boys. With Yoongi and Namjoon being six years older than you, they were already done with their studies when you were a freshman in college. They both had their own stable jobs. Namjoon was recently hired as a junior accountant. While Yoongi had a job in Advertising. And you... you had a part-time job at a convenience store near your apartment. It was the only job Namjoon allowed you to do. You wanted to help with the rent, but Yoongi and Namjoon would always tell you to just focus on your studies, arguing that they both earn enough for the three of you. It would make you laugh and tell them how they really both act like your gay parents.

With Yoongi closer than ever, you didn’t know how you could ever move on. Not when he’s an arm's length away. Not when he looks so good in the morning when he just woke up and cooked breakfast for you. Not when he places a blanket over you on the couch when you three have your movie nights. Not when the three of you have your general cleaning day, and the music blasts as he raps his lungs out with Namjoon. Not when you see every side of him—and every side of him is beautiful to you. 

He looks exceptionally beautiful when he cooks. Namjoon would be out till late at night. You were doing your school work in the living room on your laptop when Yoongi set down a plate of some kind of ham sandwich on the coffee table.

You mockingly gasp in surprise. “Did you make me a snack?” 

He rolls your eyes. “You’re welcome. Eat it.” He says and plops down on the couch next to you. 

It took some getting used to. It was new to find the place you’re living in to always be clean or not reek of alcohol. You always have good freshly made food. Yoongi always likes to clean the place, even shouting at Namjoon from time to time because as much as a responsible man your brother is, he is clumsy and messy. Just a few days ago, Yoongi threw his boxers at his face while he was sleeping because he found them on the bathroom floor. Namjoon argued he probably dropped it on the way out of the shower. You found out that Yoongi really likes doing domestic things. He likes cleaning, cooking, and architecture-related things. He knows a lot about fixing. You know because he was the one who built and fixed the furniture you got from IKEA. And he’s also the one you call when something needs fixing. You wonder if he just learned it by fixing all of the shit Namjoon destroys over the years with him or is it a trait that has always been with him from his family home.

Out of all the things he does for you and your brother, cooking has to be your favorite. Yoongi loves cooking meat and especially steak. It’s a rare occurrence because steak is not the cheapest meal to have but it’s always a delight when the three of you have it for dinner.

Yoongi puts his whole heart into cooking. You asked him why he chose not to do it for a living instead and he said that cooking is a thing he does for people he cares about and he’d rather not do it for money.

You quickly realize that one of Yoongi’s love languages is acts of service. He cooks and cleans for the three of you. He always has time for the people he cares about. He watches the 2005 film version of Pride and Prejudice with you even if you have seen it at least twenty times with him. He drives and picks you up from school when he can. But most importantly, you find comfort that Yoongi doesn’t only take care of you, but also your brother. 

You realize that even though Yoongi may never return your affection, he cares for you nonetheless. 

And you quickly find yourself at home in both of their presence. 

“What got you smiling like that? I find it hard to believe statistics is making you happy.” 

Suddenly, a throw pillow on the couch is flying to his face. From you, of course.

“Hey, I cook for you and this is how you repay me?” He complains, fists on each side of his waist. You giggle at his childish action. 

“You and your brother are ungrateful imbeciles.” He huffs. 

“Y/N? We brought you dinner.” You snap out of your studying in the living room when Namjoon opens the door. They’ve been out for a few hours to play bowling with a few of their friends from college. Yoongi follows from behind him, which did not surprise you. Wherever Namjoon goes, Yoongi follows. But what—who, rather— follows Yoongi is the one that surprised you. 

A pretty, petite brunette girl comes in, smiling at you. “Hey.” You greet them, blocking a million thoughts running inside your head. “Still studying?” Joon asked, but your eyes were still on the girl by the doorway. “Oh, this is Jieun. Yoongi will drive her to her house in a while.” 

Yoongi will drive her home? Why? Who is she to him? Is she her girlfriend? Why didn’t he tell me? Maybe he’s just courting her. Does he like her?

“Oh.” You smile at her. “Hi. I’m Y/N. Joon’s sister.” They come in entirely. “I heard so much about you, Y/N.” She said as she sat on the couch across from where you sat on the floor. You close your books and stretch. “Good things, I hope.” You say, eyeing the two men who were setting the table.

She winks. “Oh, those boys wouldn’t tell a story without you.” You laugh and stand up, walking to sit beside her. “So, how’d you meet those doofuses?” She shrugs. “Oh, I'm Yoongi's friend from college but I work with Namjoon.” 

So she knows Yoongi first. They’re close. And if there’s one Yoongi you don’t know, it was college student Yoongi. You wonder what he looked like carrying his books and studying. Did he party and hooked up with girls a lot? You didn’t know. You haven’t lived with them then.

“Alright. Let’s eat.” Yoongi calls the two of you from the dining table. 

That night, you feel like you watch the three of them from the sideline. They told stories when they were in university. Every now and then, they give you advice about college. As you stare at them and listen, you realize that no matter how much you know Yoongi and Namjoon, you will never be at their level. Not like Jieun, who glows with maturity and class. This is what Yoongi likes, you think. Not a freshman in college who can’t get her shit together.

With heavy words running through your mind, you fall asleep with an aching heart.

You should have seen it coming. 

There must be something wrong with you, you think. Why do you only realize the truth when it hurts you? You used to brush off your feelings for Yoongi. Well, you know it’s there but you don’t really make a big deal out of it. So why is it that when you heard the words from Yoongi’s mouth, your heart sank so deep it almost felt like you were going to choke? 

“Ji-eun and I are going on a date tonight.”

He was all dressed up. Leather jacket, white tee and leather pants. He looked like the rock star of your dreams. He was putting on his shoes by the door while you and your brother ate your meal.

“Text me if you’re going home tonight.” Namjoon teases, which makes you look down on your food.

You were feeling so weird inside that you wanted to throw up. You want to scream and throw things around. You were angry at yourself. Why were you feeling this way? You always knew this day would come. You’ve been expecting–readying yourself for this. Nonetheless, it still hurts. More than you ever thought it would. 

Jieun and him were a cute couple. He probably gave her his gummy smile when he asked her on a date, or his nervous smile—it didn’t matter. He really doesn’t like you. And you have been telling yourself that since high school. So why did it hurt so much?

It was at the same time that you met Taehyung. He’s your upperclassman in college, only a year older than you. You gave in to his pleas of becoming your friend when he started to constantly annoy you the moment you caught his eye. 

The loud noise of the university cafeteria is blocked out by your earphones as you sit down on a chair. You fished out the lunch box from your bag and gently placed it on the table. When you remove the lid, a smile immediately flashes from your face.

Yoongi’s cooking has always been amazing. Ever since you complained to him and Namjoon that you had a stomach ache when you ate lunch at the school cafeteria, Yoongi had forced you to take lunch boxes from him. When you argued that you may have just over-ate that day or that you’ll just eat lunch outside of the campus, he forcefully took your backpack and shoved the lunchbox in your bag before sprinting out of the apartment to get to work.

You admire the food first. Sometimes, Yoongi would make faces with them, something he learned from Tiktok, which you always laugh at. Today was an octopus sausage, your favorite. You smile and put one in your mouth. 

“Wow. That looks so good.” You look up when a metal tray of food slams in front of you. Kim Taehyung stands there, adorably smiling at you. 

You look at him suspiciously. You had never spoken a word to the man in front of you. He was a year older pursuing the same major as you. He’s hot, popular, and you heard of his… promiscuous adventures. “Do you need anything?”

He sits in front of you. “I just wanted to say your presentation to Mr. Byun’s class was amazing.”

It seemed like a genuine compliment so you nod and smile at your upperclassman. “Thank you.” And resumed eating your food.

“You’re Y/N, right?” He asks before chomping on his broccoli. You nod. 

“I’m Kim Taehyung.” He says with his mouth full.

And that was the first time you actually spoke. Ever since then, Kim Taehyung would eat with you when spots you at the cafeteria, wave dramatically when he’s walking and sees you, and he would even give you a ride on his motorcycle to your home. And on an annoyingly bad day, you blew it. He was okay, but you didn’t know what his intentions were which made you uneasy with him.

“You gotta tell me what’s wrong, Y/N.” He pouts and you can hear his feet stomping beneath the table.

“I said nothing’s wrong.” You say coldly while eating your meal.

“There is! I can totally feel the vibe from the other side of the campus. Just tell me and I’ll see how I can help.” He flashes his pleading eyes with you, placing his chin on his hands.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you already friends with like, the whole campus? Why do you keep annoying me? What’s your motive here?” You ask him, gently pushing his face away from your food in the cafeteria.

His smile drops, eyes deadpanned set on you. “I’m not here to become your friend, Y/N.” 

You stare at him, awed at the sudden change of atmosphere.

“I’m here to become your best friend.” He grins, eyes determined.

You scoff at his perseverance. “You’re unbelievable.” 

“And so are you! You scared off one of your classmates today because of your gloominess. You literally look like sadness AND anger from Inside Out right now.” 

Your mouth drops. “I look like who now?”

He giggles awkwardly, his seat slowly backing away from you. “I-I mean in a very cute way, you know? And sadness IS cute.”

You glare at him for a few seconds before sighing and dropping the utensil from your hand. “Okay, so…” You take a deep breath.

“There’s something bothering me lately.” You say.

“I knew it! Tell me. I won’t tell a motherfucking soul.” He scoots closer again then pressed his index and thumb finger together, acting like zipping his lips.

“I have a friend.” You sigh and begin. “She knows this older guy who has been like her friend since she was in high school.” You tell the story as Taehyung nods and listens attentively. “And she has had a crush on him since, like,  forever. Which she thought was just a silly little crush. And she was okay with that since she knows it’s impossible since he only sees her as a little sister anyway. But he recently got a girlfriend and suddenly she’s heartbroken. Like, crying every night heartbroken.” 

Taehyung was grinning by the end of it. “Yoongi’s dating?”

“W-what? It’s not Yoongi.” You stutter, looking away from him. “Y/N, I’ve known since like, the day he fetched you. You literally had heart eyes whenever you look at him.” 

You hit him lightly on the arm then sigh. “Fine. Yes, it’s him.” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t really know what to say. All I know is that Y/N, you’re an amazing woman. I know this because I have heard like ten people say they have a crush on you on this campus. Men AND women.” Your eyes widen at the information he just drops on you so you try and ask more but his next words stop you.

”Yoongi is someone who won’t just disappear in your life.” He says softly.

Then his eyes harden, grinning wide and he slams a hand on the table. “So I say fuck it and seduce him.” 

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

You first brought him home a month after Yoongi announced his relationship with Jieun. Taehyung was helping you with a class that you were having a hard time with. It was only because you were distracted, Yoongi being one of the main reasons. But you won’t admit that to anyone, not even yourself.

“Ugh!” You groan and slam your head on the opened book. “I don’t understand. I understand it all but when the quiz comes it’s like a totally different topic!“ You complained to Taehyung who was sitting by the headboard of your bed. The relaxed guy was totally amused at your suffering, drinking the apple juice box he stole from the fridge. 

“Help me.” You pouted as you held his hand, practically pleading. You were lying beside him in the bed on your stomach, kicking at every difficult question that goes into a dead-end in your tired brain.

“I’m telling you just need to practice these questions and you will get it eventually.” He rolled his eyes. Ever the sassy bitch, Taehyung snatched his hand away from you. 

“You literally offered to teach me that’s why you’re here in my apartment.” You glare at him. “I’m literally just here to steal this juice box. I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.” He raised his eyebrow at you. 

Your mouth drops dramatically at his words. “Okay, that’s it.” 

The books fell off your bed with thuds when you pushed them off and straddled Taehyung, who shrieks. “Hey- what the fuck!” You begin to tickle his stomach while he laughs and trashes away from you. “You bitch, stop it!” He says in between laughs, tears in his eyes. You’ve learned that a good counterattack for Taehyung’s annoyingness is his being ticklish. 

Both of your laughs fill the air and eventually you get tired of using your strength over Taehyung’s. This gives Taehyung a chance to overpower you. He holds your fists and flips you over. You gasp at the swift motion that put you under Taehyung

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that.” His devilish tone puts a blush on your face, a wide grin spreading across his face.

“Y/N.“

The deep familiar voice pushes both of you into a halt. Your heart sinks to your stomach when you see Yoongi standing by your doorway. His mouth was partly hanging open for a second before turning into a frown and you realize how bad the scene would look from an outsider. You quickly push your friend away, making him lose his balance and fall off the bed.

“Who’s this?” 

Taehyung quickly shuffled to his feet and walked to Yoongi who was at the door. “I’m Kim Taehyung. Y/N’s friend. You must be Yoongi.” He introduces himself brightly, offering a hand to the boy at the door. Yoongi’s gaze falls to his hand, which he does not accept. Instead, he turns his gaze to you. 

“Your brother wants you to know that he’ll be working late tonight. I’ll cook dinner in a little while.” The tone in his voice is cold, familiar to the night in senior year. You nod and reply uneasily, finding the tension weird and uncomfortable. “Okay, thank you Yoongi.” He nods, eyeing Taehyung once again, then back to you.

“Tell me if your friend will stay for dinner.” He says then shuts the door. 

“Dude, your guy is scary.” Taehyung whispers, before exaggerately shivering.

“He’s not my guy.” 

Taehyung excused himself out of dinner that night. He told you he feels like Yoongi will poison his food if he does so he’ll just get some free food elsewhere. So you gave him a light smack on the head for that.

Yoongi was quiet the whole meal, which was not unusual but you sensed something was off. The atmosphere was heavy and you felt like an invisible wall separating the two of you even if you were eating at the same table and sitting across from each other. 

“How’s Jieun?” You ask him. He didn’t answer. 

“Okay. Fine. Don’t tell me about your relationships.” You pout. “You know what, you should bring her here so I can ask her myself.” You suggest and tease at the same time. 

“We broke up.” Yoongi spoke.

You froze for a second before dropping your spoon gently back to your plate. “Oh. I-I’m sorry.” You say softly. Yoongi's eyes never faltered from his food. You watched him silently. 

“Don’t be. It just didn’t work out.” He tells you. 

“But she really liked you.” You find yourself saying. 

He shrugs. “Yeah, she did.” 

How about you? Did you really like her too?

“You know, if you want to tell me anything, you can, Yoongi. If there’s something bothering you.” You say and he nods, muttering a thank you.

And then it was silent again as you both ate.

“What about you?” You were taken aback by the question Yoongi suddenly asked.. 

You laughed awkwardly. “What are you talking about?”

“What’s going on with Taemin?” He asks again. 

You roll your eyes. “It’s Taehyung. And we’re just friends.” 

He looks at you in the eye before lightly pointing his spoon to you. “Friends don’t get caught like that in bed, Y/N.” He says before standing up with his plate and utensils. You followed him with yours too to the kitchen. He places his dishes in the sink and you do too. 

“It’s not like that. You just caught us messing around..” You sit on the kitchen counter while he starts to wash the dishes. “I mean, playing. Not that kind of messing around.”

“As long as this “playing” won’t have me buying a pill for you in the middle of the night.” Your mouth drops as he mentions your secret two years ago. You huff and cross your arms. 

“I just don’t see the big deal, Yoongi. It won’t be a something like that.” You roll your eyes at him. “I just want you to be careful.” He replies almost finished washing the dishes. 

You don’t think about your next words at all. “Well, I’m on the pill, actually. So I am being careful.” You swore you saw him freeze for a moment but recover himself in a second. Talk about TMI, Y/N.

“But I’m telling you, we’re not like that.” You repeat for the nth time. 

He stops the water running and doesn’t even look at you sitting from the kitchen counter. “And why not?” 

“Because I don’t like him like that.” And you jumped off the counter, heading back to your room, the weight of your words going unnoticed by the man you were previously speaking to. 

“Make a wish!” You exclaim as you hold the cake in front of Namjoon. The grin on his face was unerasable as he closed his eyes. After he blows it, everyone in the room hoots their cheers and claps their hands.

The party went on and on. Namjoon’s, Yoongi’s, and your friends were drinking till the end of the night. Taehyung is swaying you to the tune of the slow music, drunk off his ass. Something was wrong with him tonight and you were trying to find out what.

“Tae.” You groan as he spins you around once, his hands falling back to your waist when you turn to face him again. You wrap your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you. It wasn’t a big party. If you were in a club full of people you would have let him. 

This was the first time you have ever seen Taehyung like this. He was always a sight, inducing a refreshing aura wherever he goes. 

Not tonight, though. Tonight, his eyes burn a little darker, something about the way his eyelids droop on his face. He carries himself in caution, almost like he was too aware of his surroundings. You realize that this side of Taehyung is not someone to be brought to parties. Especially something as small as this. “What’s wrong?” You finally ask him.

He shakes his head, pressing his forehead to yours. You know you shouldn’t be this close to a man where your brother is in the same room. Not that he is strict like that. It’s just that you were never someone to show a public display of affection–or just affection in general. Over time, you’ve learned that it’s better not to be as transparent as you can be. So you know why Namjoon was throwing you looks every few minutes. He’s finding the scenario odd. 

“I’m fine.” He mutters. Taehyung was the opposite. He likes being touchy. Skinship is one of his love languages. He likes giving hugs and holding hands down the hallway, arms swinging. And he does it with everyone. Taehyung is a spring sunshine that everyone adores. But not right now. Today, it’s as if the light in him has been turned off.

“I think we should head to my room and talk.” You whisper to his face. “You’re drunk.” Your thumb caresses the skin on the side of his neck, trying to soothe him to go with you. He hesitates for a while, looking around you. Nobody was paying attention to you two, but you know they were just trying not to make you uncomfortable. When he nods, you smile gently and drop your hands to hold his. You lead him back to your room. 

You sat him down on your bed while his gaze never strays from the floor. “I’m gonna get you some water. Be back in a sec.” You tell him and before you’re completely out the door, you hear him mutter okay.

No eyes were on you when you walked past the people and to the kitchen. A few people were there because that’s where most of the drinks are. You open the fridge to get your water tumbler. 

You shut the fridge door only to reveal Yoongi standing next to you, gaze hard and fuming. His silent and sudden appearance frightens you, the bottle in your hand almost slips from your hand.

“Fuck, Yoongi!” You whine, placing a hand on your chest.

“What are you doing?“ His gaze on you was hard, almost angry. He was using that one tone again. Something specific to you when you were doing something he thinks is wrong.

“Getting my tumbler?” Your words hang, unsure of what to reply. You move past him, gently pushing him off the way. 

His hand catches your wrist, preventing you from walking away. “Stop.” He commands. Your gaze falls at the hand on your wrist and then up to the man that owns it. 

“Dude, what the hell? What do you want?” You ask, tone rising in annoyance. 

“What was that out there? With Taehyung?” He scolds. Confusion and a little bit of anger rises within you, laced with the small amount of alcohol in your system. 

You snatch your hand away from his grip. “We weren’t doing anything wrong. It’s not like we’re the only ones dancing.”

You don’t understand why he was being this way. Lately, all he seems to be doing is be irritated with you. 

The two of you stare each other down, seeing who gives up first. It ends when he lets out a tired breath. 

With the way his expression changed, it looked like he still had a lot to say but decided to let it go.

“I’m sorry. I’ll let you two be quiet in your room.” And he walks away. 

You watch his back as he walks out the kitchen, confused and somehow annoyed at his actions. Why is he still treating you like a kid? You are 20 now, can’t he see you as an adult? 

There was a light clang pang of your metal water bottle when you slammed it down your kitchen counter. You catch your breath you didn’t even know you were holding. It was like that with Yoongi always. He always makes you feel like you can’t breathe but free at the same time. When you get in arguments with him, you want to wash your mouth with soap. You never want to be in a bad place with him. He matters so much to you.

When you entered your room, Taehyung was still there, still in the same position you left him. You set down your water bottle and glass on the side table. Pouring out the liquid in the glass, you ask your friend. “You can tell me what’s wrong.” 

You offer the glass of water to him, which he accepts with a small thanks. He sips a bit and sets it in his hands, elbows resting on his thighs. You sat beside him and placed a hand on his back that was slouched gently. 

“Or you can sober up first.” You pat his back. “Your choice, buddy.” 

It was silent for a while as you both sat side by side. You stare at the wall, basking in the tense silence you both created. That was until you heard the small sniffs from your friend. Barely audible sniffs that eventually turn into sobs. You feel his body shake beneath your hands and you see his hands firmly gripping the glass. 

“He…” Taehyung hands you the glass of water which you quickly set down before it breaks in his grip. He doesn’t look at you at all time, not wanting to make you see him crying. “My dad, he’s gone.” 

“Oh, Tae.” You embrace him, wrapping your arms around him. He rests his face on your shoulder as he sobs. You couldn’t help but be moved by his emotions, tearing up and you caress his back. 

You know that Taehyung was from a far province, he has a loving mother and father. He grew up well with a father who managed a factory before he got sick and bedridden. His mother, a beautiful loving housewife who had a small bakery. Financials weren’t an easy subject for them. When his father got bedridden, her mother had to cut her time in the bakery to take care of her husband and younger kids, lowering their family income more. Thankfully, his father had already set aside a bank account for Taehyung’s education before he even reached age, one that his grandparents had contributed in as well in honor of him being the first grandchild of the family. 

“Why haven’t you come home?” You asked him. You feel him shake his head. “I can’t.” He sniffs. “Because if I go then it’d be real.” 

You sigh, not knowing what to say. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” You suggest instead. “We can take the bus tomorrow morning.” 

“You’d skip classes?” He chuckles bitterly, his crying pausing as he lifts his head to be at the same head level as you. You never skip class. You laugh and roll your eyes. “I will. For you.”

“Damn. I wish I recorded that. I would show it to the whole school. The Ice Queen, will do anything for silly old me.” He jokes and sniffs, making you frown and hit his shoulder. And he finally smiles.

“Kim Y/N, you told me that you have a few days off. I didn’t know you were gonna skip classes!” Namjoon scolded you, his jaw clenching like it always does when he’s angry.

You hung your head low. Apparently, when you were gone with Taehyung, Namjoon came to know that you skipped classes when your friend in one class dropped by to give you some notes that you asked for. You should’ve asked her to send it by mail instead.

“And to do what? Hang out with this Taehyung guy?” Namjoon was fuming and you understood why. You bite your lower lip and look up at him.

“I’m sorry, Joon. I should’ve told you the truth.” You reply with a trembling voice and teary eyes.

Yoongi watches from the edge of the couch. When you came in, the two were already sitting in the living room. Namjoon was looking pissed and Yoongi just stared at you. 

So here you were, a backpack full of used clothes on the floor in front of a now fuming standing older brother.

Your brother's eyes softened when he saw how scared you were. “I’m sorry for yelling.” He sighs and picks up the backpack that you dropped. 

“It’s not about skipping. I don’t give a shit about that. You can skip all you want as long as you graduate, Y/N. It’s just that you know that I don’t like you lying to me.” He hands you your backpack which you accept.

He was right. Trust for each other is what made you two hang on up to this moment. And you shouldn’t ruin it.

“I’m sorry.” You say and nod, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes. “I’m sorry, Joonie.”

Your brother hugs you, his tall frame looming over yours. You wrap your arms around him. “Don’t cry. I’m sorry.. Have you eaten?” He breaks off the hug and looks down at you.

“I’ll go get a plate for you. Go clean up.”

In your room, you close the door behind you and lean your back on it. You sigh. You’re 20. You should be starting to make adult decisions. Maybe you are really just still a kid. 

When you’re done preparing yourself and making your way to the dining table, Namjoon wasn’t there. It’s just Yoongi reading a book. His ebony hair was still a bit wet from the shower he had. A few strands of dried hair falling over his brow and just above his eyeglasses. He looks up for a second to shoot you a glance before turning his attention back to his book. 

“Hey.” His sweet deep voice greets you. 

“Hey,” you reply and sit across from him. “Why are you reading here?” You ask him and pick up the utensils in front of you. 

The food looks delicious but you weren’t really that hungry. The bus ride with Taehyung was spent talking, napping, snacking, listening to music, and snacking again. Still, food at home is different. It was your favorite thing to go home to–Yoongi’s cooking.

“Joon went out to buy something.” You realize this doesn’t answer your question but you chose to ignore it with a huff.

“Did you have fun on your little trip?” He asks, still not looking up from his book. You shrug. “It was okay.” Your back rests on the chair, shoulders now slumped while playing with your food. 

“Why do you do that?” Yoongi asks again, flipping a page on his book. It takes a second for you to answer in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Why… do you never tell me things?” He asks softly and you wish you could see his eyes beneath the strands of his hair. 

You chuckled nervously, confused at the sudden heavy atmosphere. “What do you mean? I do tell you things, Yoongi.” 

The man in front of you clicks his tongue. “Nevermind. Forget I said anything.”

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Can you stop doing that? Just say what you want to say to me.” You drop your utensils on the plate and cross your arms.

Yoongi’s book closes with a loud thud and it lands on the table when he tosses it lightly. “You don’t tell me shit anymore. It’s like you've been keeping me at a distance for months. I’ve been wondering what the hell I’ve done, Y/N.”

You fix your gaze on the man in front of you. You feel the pent up frustration flowing through him. He has been feeling this way for months? 

“I-” You open your mouth to speak but no words come out. Why do you keep thinking that it’s only you who cares enough for the two of you? Yoongi has always been there for you as a friend. It’s not what you wanted but he was everything you need in a friend. 

He was right. Back in high school, you would even text him at least three times a week. You would ask him any random thing and tell him about your day. He always responds right away which makes your heart jump every time. 

Ever since he started dating Jieun and even when they broke up, you’ve been putting all your energy into everywhere else but him. You started going home late so you don’t have to eat dinner with him and on weekends, you always hang out with Taehyung instead of hanging at home when you usually watch movies with Namjoon or Yoongi. You didn’t realize he noticed or even cared.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You stammer before bowing your head. You try to think of an excuse for your actions. You can’t just tell him it’s because you’ve caught feelings for your brother’s best friend and you’ve been trying to move on from him on your own. 

He sighs and his tensed shoulders fall. “It’s.. it’s fine. Just tell me what’s wrong.” He says and leans forward, elbows on the table. 

You shake your head. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Yoongi.” 

“Then why avoid me?” He replies fast, a slight hint of desperation in his voice. “Have I made you uncomfortable in any way? Do you not like living with me?” 

You chuckle and bite your lip. “You can never make me uncomfortable, Yoongs.” You pause. “It’s just weird for me right now. And it’s got nothing to do with you or anyone. It’s just me. And I’m trying to figure it out myself. I’m sorry if I’ve been avoiding you.” 

He sighs. “Okay. But you know you’re my best friend too, right? You’re family to me too.” 

You nod and give him a warm smile. “I know. And you are to me too.” 

Namjoon could never stay mad at you. The two of you went back to normal after a few days. You never told him the reason why Taehyung and you made that trip. You only told Namjoon your friend needed support back home. Why you never told him the whole truth, you don’t know why. Parents have always been a taboo subject to you and Namjoon. Growing up, he didn’t like to talk about parents. 

When you were younger, you used to ask Namjoon if he knew your father. He would smile sadly and change the topic. Once, he answered he didn't know. But you know he was lying. You stopped asking when one night when he was a sophomore in high school, after he had accompanied you to a meeting with teachers in school, you found him crying in his bed. 

You didn’t know why he was crying and you didn’t want to ask him. Namjoon has always shown you his tough side. Your strong older brother was crying but your feet stayed planted on the floor. Silently, you slid to the floor, listening to his sobs and cries.

And when he finally stopped, you peek in his room again. That’s when you realize that he had been clutching a poster you made in school. It was a poster of appreciation to your parents or guardian. You didn’t know who to put and you didn’t really want to put your mother because she made your brother angry that day. And you liked Namjoon better than your mother. So you drew Namjoon instead. 

So after placing a kiss on his cheek on his sleeping form, you left his room and never asked again. 

“Mom, what are you doing here?” You asked as you opened the door and found your mother looking like shit. More than she ever had been. Her eyes were bloodshot and she was staring at you with a weird sloppy smile. 

You were home alone, both Yoongi and Namjoon at work. She huffed and pushed you out of the way. “Hey!” You complain as she continues to let herself in. 

“You’re not welcome here, Mom! Get home before Namjoon finds you here.” 

She flops herself on the couch and you wince when you get closer to her. Not only does she look like she hasn't showered for days, you can also smell she hasn’t showered for days.

“Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.” She mocks while rolling her eyes. “What’s so great about that kid? Just because he has money now, he can treat me like shit?” She complains, finger pointing to her chest. You look at her in disbelief. 

“Mom, can you please just leave?” You beg this time, not really wanting to deal with her at all. This is the first time she’s been here. As usual, she’s drunk off her ass. 

The woman glares at you before standing up. For a moment, you thought she was gonna head to the door. But you know better that this woman is not that easy. She shifts her walk to the television. Just below it lies all the framed pictures of you. Your high school graduation picture, Namjoon’s and Yoongi’s college ones, and the picture of the three of you in your high school graduation.

“Look at all of you.” The bitterness in her tone is evident. “All happy now without me, aren’t you?” 

Anger flows through your veins. How dare she act like this at your own home? “Mom, leave it.” You demand this time. She looked back at you for a second before picking up the picture of the three of you. 

You step closer to her, about to retrieve the picture frame but she moved it away from you. “Can you just tell me what the hell you’re doing here? And how the hell did you even find us?” You say as you reached harder and snatched the frame from her hands. 

“I have my ways.” She shrugs and moves to sit on the couch again. 

She sighs. “I just miss you, poochie coo.” You’re disgusted as you watch her pout and lay on your couch like she’s back at home. “Haven’t you missed your momma?” 

You gave her a groan in disgust. 

And just like that, she began rambling on like she used to when the two of you were alone.  You’ve tuned out all of it as you stayed standing by the television, gripping the picture frame in your hand. Knuckles were turning white as your lips trembled in anger. She still can't act like this. You’re free from her. This isn’t her home anymore. This is your home. She can’t put her dirty paws in it and trash the place.

“Why can’t you just leave us alone?” 

She stops talking, staring at you with a brow raised. Instead of answering, she kept on rambling on how hard life has been for her since you left that hellhole of a house.

“We left you because you deserved it!” You scream and throw the picture frame. You hear the glass break but you don't care. Tears fall from your red face. “You’re a bad fucking mom and an an even worse person. Namjoon doesn’t give a shit about you and you know exactly fucking why!” 

You’ve never been angry at your mother. You’ve always loved her. No. You tolerated her. But what you can’t tolerate is her being at your home and walking over you. This is your safe place. You’re no longer her doormat.

That shut her up. You’ve never raised your voice at her. Her countenance couldn’t be deciphered, giving you a flat face, but with years of experience, you know she’s angry. And it wasn’t the anger she gives Namjoon when they fight. It’s a different kind of anger. 

“J-just…leave us alone from now on, please.” It was let out in a whisper that you don’t even know if she heard. 

She stands up and walks over to you. You know what comes next. You know it all too well.

“You’re raising your voice now to me too? You’re leaving me too?” The tears in her eyes were too familiar that you find it both disgusting and heartbreaking. She stares at you and places a hand on your cheek. The anger on your face quickly subsides. Her thumb caresses your skin. Her hands are rough, which is a texture you’re used to. “Like your father and Namjoon?” 

Like it was second nature, you fold into her hand. “I…” You’re unable to answer, shaking your head.

“You know what your father did to me, Y/N. You know. And I’m trying. I’m gonna be better. I promise. So don’t leave me, please.” You sigh, tired of hearing these words. You sigh and you know it’s just going to be another lie. You sigh but you nod. 

“Y/N?” 

You didn’t even hear him come in. Yoongi stands there, fresh from work. His eyes go back and forth at the two of you in a way that you can’t decipher. Within three seconds, his face hardens. You don’t understand why. You only watch as he heads to the door and opens it again. He stands by it while holding the knob and then turns his body to face your direction again. 

He stares hardly at your mother, eyes burning and never drifting away from her. 

“Get out.”

Your mom drops her hand from your face. She huffs then chuckles in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You didn’t hear me the first time? Get out of our house.” His voice is louder this time, but he’s not shouting. No. Yoongi never raises his voice when he’s mad. That’s one thing you know about him–one thing you love about him. He’s calculative and calm when he’s mad. There’s no screaming. No fighting. He tries to understand. And when he doesn’t, he walks away for a while.

The woman beside you looks at you for help and you try and stutter out a few words. But before you can really say anything, Yoongi stops you. He still doesn’t look at you. 

“Don’t look at her. She’s not gonna help you. So take your wrecked ass out of my apartment.”

She stares at the two of you in disbelief before chuckling again bitterly. “Fine. Rude fucking kids. Got a whole place to themselves and think they fucking rule the world.” She looks at you then wraps her arms around you. You cringe.

“Be careful, darling. We’re two peas in a pod, you and I. I just don’t want you to end up like me. That’s why I don’t want you to leave me, okay? I love you.” She whispers in your ear. 

I just don’t want you to end up like me. These words repeat in your head. And you don’t even notice as she leaves. You just stand there right where she left you, unable to lift your feet of the ground. You don’t see her walk out the door. You don’t see Yoongi walking over to you in concern. You don’t notice as Yoongi sits you by the couch in silence. You don’t hear Yoongi calling your brother in concern. You don’t realize he disappears for a moment to shower and get out of his work clothes. You only realize when he’s now beside you on the couch in his comfortable fluffy sweatshirt he loves.

Yoongi just sits there beside you. He doesn’t touch you or talk to you. He just sits there, letting his presence be known at all times. 

When you snap back into reality, you call for him. “Yoongi?” 

You don’t look at him when you ask the question that came up in your mind. “That wasn’t love, was it?” 

He smiles sadly before shaking his head. 

“No. Y/N. I don’t think so.”

Before you were ever to miss your best friend, he was back in the city to annoy you. The two of you were studying peacefully in the university library as Taehyung as you to join him cram his missed works because of his sudden trip. 

“Did something happen while I was gone?” Taehyung whispers, making you furrow your brows in confusion. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, your gaze still focused on the paper you were writing on. 

He sighs barely audibly. “Nothing. You just look kind of down… or something.” 

You shrug. “It’s nothing. Mom dropped by our apartment unannounced and it shook us up. Even Yoongi.” Taehyung didn’t press on the topic any further, focusing back on his own work. You were glad he doesn’t.

It was silent until you feel the vibration of your phone in your pocket. This bothered you because you’ve put it on study mode. Which means that your phone was set only to receive notifications from your brother and Yoongi. You fished out your phone from your pocket to look.

joon is on his way to ilsan. angry.

It was Yoongi’s text. You mutter a curse under your breath but it does not slip by Taehyung. He peeks at your phone and his eyes widened. “I-I need to go.”

“You need me to drive you?” He asks and you nod immediately, worry filling your eyes.

The two of you quickly pack your things up and rush out of the library. Taehyung guides you to his motorbike but not before throwing your things inside his dormitory. You don’t even notice that Taehyung was the one who put your helmet on because you were thinking too much to do it on your own in a quick motion. You hop behind him and wrap your arms on his waist. 

“All set. Hold tight.” He orders before driving away. 

On the way, you call Yoongi. 

He answers in two rings. “Yoongi!” You scream to the phone so he can hear you through the traffic. “Y/N? Are you on the road?!” He asks the obvious. “Yes! I’m on Taehyung’s bike!” You answer. 

“You– I’m already on the way to stop him–or hold him back. I don’t know. Get back to your school, Y/N!” There is anger and worry in his voice. 

You roll your eyes like he could see it. “Well then, you shouldn’t have fucking told me!” 

Namjoon voluntarily seeing your mother specifically is never a good thing. It always ends badly. You have to be there for your brother. You always have to be there.

Because you know he’d be there too.

“Fuck, okay. Just drive safe. I’m almost there. Tell Taehyung not to rush on the road.” Those were Yoongi’s last words before he dropped the call. 

Screams.

The first thing you heard from outside the house was your mother’s voice. 

You hopped off the motorbike and handed Taehyung’s extra helmet to him. “Go.” He nods. 

The door swung open before you even knock, revealing your brother’s best friend with a worried face. “Y/N’s here.” He sighs. 

“Oh, thank god. Can you talk some sense to your brother? He’s being so dramatic.” 

Alcohol. The first thing that your senses take in was the smell of alcohol, then it was cigarettes. Every corner of the place that used to be your home reeked of vices. The living room was a mess more than it ever was before. Clothes and bottles were scattered around everywhere. But the woman standing in the middle of it was the biggest mess of them all. 

“Namjoon, let’s go home.” You say under your breath, tired.

“Right. Go back to where you came from and stop bothering me, little fuck.” Namjoon’s jaw clenches, burning eyes never straying from the woman in front of him. 

“You never go back to our home. If I even hear you step foot a block away from our apartment, I’ll call the police. Fuck you.” 

“You can’t keep her away from me.” She laughs in between her words like a maniac. She steps closer to Namjoon, her height making her raise her head to look him in the eye. “She’s my child.” 

The frown on his face disappears into an astonished smirk, but the moist eyes was a dead giveaway. You know him well enough to know what he’s thinking. She does not treat him like his child. She never did.

Before Namjoon could reply, you speak up from where you stand. 

“You’re not my mother.’’ You spat, finally looking at the woman you gave birth to you. She looks at you with a stunned–no, offended look on her face. Dare, it even left her speechless for a moment.

“Namjoon.” You shift your eyes back to your brother and call him again, louder this time.

“That’s right. Go call your brother who wants to act like a victim. Every fucking tim–” 

“Shut the fuck up!”  You interrupt your mother, making her pause her words. 

She looks at you with disdain in her eyes. 

“Namjoon’s your child too.” You callously spat, stepping closer to your supposed family. “He raised me. All on his own. You should be thanking him. You should be worshipping him, kissing his feet, and apologizing to him.” 

You don’t know how you were stopping yourself from crying. You feel like you could be passing out at this very moment, but you don’t. Instead, you stand your ground, gathering all the lost courage and tell your mom the words you always wanted to say, words never wavering and dicted with conviction. This time, no tears were spent for your mom. 

“I despise you.” And you grab your brother’s hand to leave.

Namjoon gets to his car and looks at you. You shake your head and point at Taehyung who was waiting patiently outside. 

You know your brother will cry and you wanted him to have his privacy. 

Before you even touch the helmet Taehyung was handing to you, Yoongi grabs your hand.

“You’ll ride with me.” And so you went with him, giving Taehyung a look of apology. Your best friend doesn’t mind, giving you a thumbs up before hopping on his bike.

“I’ll head back to the dorms!” Taehyung shouts while you follow Yoongi to his car. 

You sat on the passenger’s seat quietly the whole ride, not once looking at Yoongi. Instead, you basked in the comfort of his presence, trying to get your mind off the whole ordeal earlier. 

The drive back to the apartment was too fast to leave you alone with your own thoughts and Yoongi’s presence enough. You almost feel disappointed when you make a turn on the familiar street. 

It felt normal, the ride. But the realization only comes when the engine of the car shuts off and he lets go.

Yoongi was holding your hand, the other effortlessly on the wheel.

Silence fills the car. You tell yourself to speak up because you do want to tell him something. But you don’t find the words in your head. The longing to feel his touch longer than this moment. 

“Yoongi.” 

“Y/N.”

His gaze falls on the hand that is still wrapped in yours. Then it goes back to your face. You look back at him, the atmosphere in the car getting heavier by the second. For a moment, you allow yourself to let your eyes drift to his lips. But you avoid it intently, moving back to his eyes. His dark eyes that seemed to hold a lot of thoughts. You attempt to speak up, but didn’t continue as you hear the slam of your brother’s car door.

He squeezes your hand three times, before letting it go.

What the hell was that?

Taehyung and you were eating ice cream on a park. Your thighs resting on your friend’s lap. Taehyung has learned that there are rare times you get clingy to someone you’re close with. 

“So, you’re saying you two are holding hands the whole ride back home?” You nod.

He gives you a look.

“What?” 

He was still giving you the look.

You slap his arm. “What’s with the look?!” You ask, irritated.

“That’s sus. That’s very sus.” He says before staring ahead and licking his ice cream.

You were about to say something but you sense someone looking at you at your peripheral vision. Turning you head, you found a familiar girl in a cute white dress staring. She waves at you. 

You quickly remove your legs from Taehyung’s and wave back at her while she makes her way to you. God, how is she this pretty? 

“Jieun!” You greet her and she chuckles at your enthusiasm. 

“Y/N! How have you been? And is this your boyfriend? He looks handsome!” 

Your eyes widen and your hands shoot up to wave in defense. Taehyung snorts. “She wishes.” 

“This is my college friend, Taehyung. I’ve been doing fine. How about you? I heard about you and Yoongi. I’m sorry. If you want me to kick his ass for you, I will.”

She shakes her head. “Oh! No. Yoongi and I weren’t serious or anything. It was just casual.” 

“Oh. I thought since I haven’t been seeing you around the house…” 

She nods and laughs. “I got promoted. Yeah, to be honest, it’s been a pain directly working under the boss. Your brother is lucky he only stays in the office. The hours are fixed. Now I don’t even have time to hang around anymore.”

“Then I won’t be seeing you at home any time soon?” You ask her, pouting.

“I don’t think so. But I sure will try!” Her phone rings. “Speaking of the devil. Gotta get these papers back to the boss. Bye! It was nice to meet you Taehyung!”

She runs off. But not completely before looking back at the two of you.

“I’m sure Yoongi wouldn’t mind keeping you company at home, Y/N.” She winks.

And Taehyung repeated slaps your thigh.

“Oh my God, what does she mean by that?!” 

-

The dress you wore was simple but pretty. It was a two-piece white satin dress with a square neckline. It matched with the black pumps you had. Taehyung had helped you choose the outfit because you had to look nice and you agreed with him.

It was your birthday, after all.

You wanted to opt for a private dinner with all the people you care about. Something intimate and simple just for the four of you. But Taehyung had to nag you to have a party so he can host and possibly get wasted. He couldn’t convince you but when Namjoon had heard the idea when Taehyung was in your apartment convincing you about it, he was exhilarated. What else can you do but agree?

The smell of the club fills your nose. Goosebumps arise from your skin as the breeze from the air conditioner hits you as you enter the place Namjoon has rented a table for the day. Mrs. Park was the one who recommended the place to Namjoon. It seemes that the woman had friends in Seoul. Ms. Wong, the owner of the place and the friend of your favorite diner’s waitress-slash-owner, agreed to give you a private room today for a very friendly price so you could celebrate your 21st birthday. 

Taehyung, as the self-proclaimed creative of the group, adorned the tables with colorful decorations. White and Pink balloons filled the tables and floor. He also personally got some random student from school to DJ for the night. Knowing your best friend, he probably got him to do so as a favor. 

You have invited your high school friends and Taehyung invited some of your mutual friends and acquiantances from the university. You told Namjoon he can invite some of his friends from work too. 

“And there’s the birthday girl!” 

The party hasn’t even started yet and Taehyung already has a cup of most definitely not water in his hand. You were about to scold him but was interrupted when your guests scream your name and greet you one by one. They all take turns to greet you, give you presents, and take pictures with you. 

When they were all done, god, were you exhausted. 

“Alright, everyone, you can go have fun. Drink or eat. I need to talk to my friend.” Taehyung pouts as he pulled you away from the people and sat you by the table.

“Have you eaten? We should’ve come together.” Taehyung slides you a plate of carbonara. 

“I thought Namjoon was gonna come with me but he had a slight emergency at work.” You say as you take a fork of the pasta in your mouth. 

“You went alone?! Why didn’t you call me?” His eyes widened as he interrogated you while you continue to eat.

You shake your head. “I didn’t come alone.” 

His eyes lit up. “You didn’t?”

As if on cue, the chair beside you from your left slides and someone sits down. “She didn’t, kid.”

Yoongi gazes at your friend who looks at you with raised brow and a sly smile. You pinch him before the person who came with you get any ideas. 

You turn to Yoongi. “What took you so long? You said you were just going to park.” 

He plasted a smile on his face, resembling a cheshire cat. “I had to pick something up.” 

You were curious to what was it but decided not press any further. Instead you ask, “do you know what time Namjoon will arrive?” 

He shrugs. “He said he’s on his way with some officemates.” He pulls the plate of food from you and grabs your fork with his left hand. You feel your cheeks turn pink not because he used the same fork you used. (Even if it was that, you still weren’t used to the domestic treatment of Yoongi to you.) You were blushing because his arm rests on top of your chair, making it seem like his arm was around your shoulder. You don’t think he notices how small the distance is with the two of you right now.

“You told me you ate already.” He gives you a side eye. He did ask you at home if you did but you answered yes. 

“I just thought I could grab a bite here instead of making you cook before coming here.” You reply honestly. 

Taehyung was watching the interaction like it was his favorite tv show. Such a shame that someone calls him to the dance floor. He doesn’t even bother ruining the moment and leaves the two of you on the table without a word. 

“Finish your food before you go drink.” Yoongi orders rather softly before handing you your fork back.

“Finish your food before you go drink.” You repeat in a mocking voice while taking the utensil in your hand. He doesn’t press on your teasing but you hear him tsk in return. 

In contrast to the loud music and colorful lights, the two of you sat in silence while you share a plate and ate. You pray to God for someone to save you from being alone with him before you explode. 

God must be real, because just as you took your last bite, you hear your brother’s voice calling you.

He wore a black coat over his white shirt, neck tie removed and a few buttons left open. By his side were who you assume were his friends from work. You can only recognize Jieun from them.

“Joonie!” You jump off your chair to wrap your arms around your brother. 

“Woah.” He stumbles a little from the weight you unanticipatedly put on him. He pats your back. “Happy Birthday, ugly.” He greets you. You giggle and let go. 

“Hi, Jieun! You came!” You say before hugging her as well. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world. And it was totally my fault that your brother was late.” You release her from the embrace, looking at her curiously. “So I came to apologize for that too. He had to fix a mess at work.” She pouts and you laugh and wave a hand. “It’s fine. As long as you’re here now.” 

Jieun hands you a paper bag and you thank her. Namjoon introduces you his other friends, who gave you gifts as well. You tell them they didn’t really have to but thank them anyway. 

The beautifully delicate woman’s gaze falls on the person standing behind you. Her eyes lit up in amusement. 

“Yoongi. You’re here too.” She acknowledges him. 

The man now beside you looks away, not meeting the eyes in front of him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugs. 

“Yeah, of course. The best friend.” You couldn’t help but sense a tone of bitterness in Jieun’s voice, making your doubt that they ended on good terms. 

You laugh awkwardly to remove the tension in the space. “Hey, Joon! I’m gonna go drink with my friends, if that’s alright?” You shift your gaze to Joon who was talking to his friends, not seeing the exchange that took place. He nods at you and tell you to enjoy. 

After with three mix of drinks Taehyung had given you, you were dancing the night away. “Twenty fucking one!” Your best friend screams. 

You were dancing with him before he was whisked away by some random man you don’t know. Now, you were dancing with your friends from high school and a few from university. Eunwoo, your seatmate in Statistics, being one of them. He was being close to you all night. You didn’t mind. He wasn’t doing anything inappropriate, just dancing and vibing closely to you. You mostly dance with Mina anyway. You forgot how much you missed her.

“So, that hot best friend of that brother of yours, huh?” She shouts while swaying her hips to the music. 

You furrow your brows and leaned in to her ear to let her hear you better. “What do you mean?” 

“Saw you two close together. Is something finally happening?” She teases, poking your exposed stomach from the crop top. You swat her hand away and shake your head. 

“He’s not interested in me like that. That was nothing.” You explained, partly convincing yourself as well. 

She raises a brow. “Did he tell you that?” She asks you. 

“What?” You ask even if you heard her clearly.

She gave you a lop sided grin. “Did you ask him if it meant nothing? Because if it meant nothing, why was he watching you more than your brother tonight?” 

Your eyes immediately search for the man in the black and white baseball jacket, finding him drinking quietly in your table, the same spot he sat at earlier. When you meet his eyes, he immediately looks away. 

“See?” She whispers,

“He’s just worried about me.” You reason. 

“You sure about that? Do me a favor and stay close to that cutie from your class all night. Let’s see how he reacts then.”

Then a very sensual song plays. “Oh, you know this song?!” Eunwoo leans in your ear and shouts. You nod at him and laugh. “Yeah.” He didn’t have to scream if he was gonna lean in. 

“You wanna dance with me on this one?” He asks, smirking. You hesitate, about to look around to find your brother if he might see. 

“She does want to!” Mina answers for you before you can and pushes you to the man, making you land on his chest. Steady hands catch your arms before the both of you stumble. You feel your cheeks heat up at the close proximity of your face to him when you finally look up. 

“Woah there.” He whispers, and you see the way the lights hit his face. 

Eunwoo is attractive. In fact, he’s the most attractive guy in your class. It seemed that he’s interested in you, too. It wouldn’t be bad to indulge yourself in the presence of another man if the man you were eyeing won’t ever be yours, wouldn’t it? 

Maybe if you look at the other options, you would forget the unattainable one. 

Shaking your head off the thought, you push yourself off of Eunwoo softly. There shouldn’t be an option at all in the conversation. No one deserves to be a rebound or a choice.

First of all, you have to stop what you feel. 

You look back at the table to find the spot you were watching empty. Where did he go?

“Actually, Eunwoo. I think I’m gonna go and have some fresh air.” You admit. 

Eunwoo’s face fell. “Oh. Did do I something wrong?” He asks, suddenly looking small and scratching the back of his neck. 

“No, no.” Your hands shot up to deny his question. “You didn’t! I just feel stuffy all of a sudden.”

Then a genuine look of worry paints his face. “Are you okay? Do you need me to go with you?” 

You shake your head, “It’s fine. I’ll be back in a minute!” You add before making your way out of the dancing crowd, leaving your friends and Taehyung throwing it back in a circle of people. 

The sigh escapes your mouth when a whip of air hits your face as you stepped out of the establishment. 

“Didn’t like dancing?” 

Your head whips to the direction of the voice. There he stands, back resting on the wall and hands on his pockets. It was a cold night, you realize as the hair on your arms rise. Your hands shot up immediately to hold your arms in a cross position. 

“It’s cold out here. Why don’t you get back inside?” He asks another question before you even answer the first one. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” You snort before taking your place beside him. The same spot that felt so comfortable to you. Next to him, you feel safe yet unknown. You know you belong there but as what? As a friend? As a sister? As a lover? And you know it’s hardly the last one. But what else can you do but dream?

“I have a jacket. You, however…” He points out the obvious without looking at you. He was right. The dress you wore was showing too much skin for the cold not to affect your body in the most it can. But you can hardly think about the cold at the moment so you don’t give him an answer.

Silence filled the air for a few minutes. It’s always like this with Yoongi. Silence, comfort, and safety. It was never quiet with you. Not in your life. But whenever Yoongi come into it, it became quiet. He has made you feel at peace. He has made you feel warm. 

The warmth he offered sometimes hurt, you admit. But it was not his fault. You are greedy. You want more of the warmth than what he can offer. But you would take this hurt everyday than go back to the chaos and noise that you have known before him. And tonight, you feel you can allow yourself to be more greedy.

“Do I look pretty tonight?” The words come out of your mouth before you even think. The beating heart in your chest seemed to want to run away from your brain with how fast it went.

“What?” Yoongi undoubtedly found the question unusual as you have never asked him questions like this. You weren’t one to worry about your appearance. They know that you’re definitely insecure about a myriad of things but you refrain from letting people know about it. Indulging the people you care about your problems is just not you. 

“I’m asking you if you think I’m attractive.” You repeat, cheeks blushing and eyes set in the other direction. Where you’re getting your confidence right now, you’re not sure where.

“Tsk.” He cocks his head and began to remove his jacket. “You are attractive.” 

“No.” Your hands are now by your stomach, fiddling and playing together. “I’m asking if you think I’m attractive.”

There was a pause in the air for a few second. It seemed like he was thinking. “Come here.” 

When your eyes lift up, you find him offering his jacket to you. He was holding it by it’s shoulder part, the back facing him and ready for you to slide your arms into the empty sleeves. A black long sleeve shirt was left of on him, complementing his growing ebony hair that was reaching the back of his neck. He was yet to get a haircut and you’re thankful for that.

“My arms are gonna die, get in.” He pleads and you comply. You’re disappointed he doesn’t answer the question but you decide not to press into it further due to sudden embarrassment.

You step in and turned around, sliding your right arm first and then your left. You fix the jacket on you as you look straight ahead the empty sidewalk. This was his favorite one. The black one adorned with white details of dragons on the chest and the sleeves. 

“Put your hand in the right pocket.” He instructs and you did. You feel something box-like and fish it out of the garment.

It was a rectangular black velvet box not bigger than your palm. “Wha–”

“It’s your present.” He interrupts your confused reaction.

Inside the box was a gold necklace with a pendant not bigger than half an inch. It resembled a butterfly. The wings were carved by horizontal lines but was connected to four tiny diamonds on each wing’s inner part. 

“Is this real?” You ask, eyes squinting at the necklace now in your hand. 

“Are you saying I’m cheap? Of course, it is. I had my friend from work get it. That’s where I stopped by before going in.” He answers and takes the necklace from you from the back. 

Before you knew it, his arms were in your peripheral vision, ready to put the necklace on you. He clasps it around your neck and you feel the cold pendant on your hand, admiring it. 

Cold hands turn you around by the shoulders, making you face him. 

“You look beautiful.” 

And he smiles. His hands are still on your shoulders, literally making him an arm length from you. The smile on his face is the cutest you have ever seen. It’s toothless and his cheeks more fluffier than ever. The way his eyes sparkled competed with the street lights and the present stars the night sky above the two of you.

He looked so beautiful. 

You’re so fucked. 

You’re irrevocably in love with Min Yoongi. 

It was taking you everything not to step forward and put your lips on his. The self-control you were so adamant to maintain was trying to leave your body because of the rush of emotion you feel.

So you let it happen.

A thud on the ground was the only thing heard when the box from your left hand hit the ground. You don’t miss how his eyes widened at the contact of his soft lips to yours. His hands on your shoulder are now raised in shock. You froze, unaware of what to do next. This wasn’t supposed to happen like this. 

The moment you retract your lips however, his hands find their way to your cage your face. You swear your heart skipped a bit when he voluntarily pressed his lips onto yours and his eyes fluttered close. His plump lips move swiftly with yours, as if memorizing the very taste you.

Is this really happening?

You’re kissing Min Yoongi? You have been dreaming of this for years. You should feel happy. And you are. God, you’re ecstatic. But just like every moment of happiness you feel in your life, the anxiety that there will be an opposite reaction from the roulette of life sticks in your system. You push the ugly thoughts this time and let yourself bask in the excitement you feel.

His hands slide down to your shoulders, to your back, and finally your waist. He tugged your lower lip, tongue sweeping in your lips. There was a type of hunger in his kiss that confuses you. It didn’t feel lustful or wrong. It was not a satisfaction from a craving or a need. There was yearning that confuses you but you can’t help but indulge yourself in the moment. You let it happen and without thinking, your hand finds it way to the back of his neck. 

The icy cold of your palm must have woken him to reality because it made his whole body stiffen and he steps back, breaking the kiss in a swift movement.

“I–” He stutters, face red and out of breath. 

Before he or you can catch his breath or be able to choose his words, the door swings open.

“There you two are!” 

Your one and only brother looks at your surprised face and then at Yoongi, who was looking like he has seen death himself.

“You okay there, bro?” Namjoon asks, looking at his friend in suspicion. You panic, realizing your idiotly clever brother is trying to read the room and figuring out what had happened just before he stepped out of the building.

“Yeah! We were just going in. Yoongi’s getting cold.” You reply for the still frozen man instead when he doesn't answer for a second. 

Your brother still seemed a little confused but nods anyway. “Come on in quick, you guys.” He says before heading back in.

As soon as the door shut close you turn to the man in front of you. 

“Yoongi.” You call him, a hopeful call. It was a call for him to address what happened. It was a pleading for him to step out of his trance. It was you telling him “what now?” in one call of his name.

His eyes finally meet yours. They were hardly readable. You don’t know what he’s thinking and it kills you inside. 

“Yoongi?” You repeat, softly this time. Like you know what he’s about to do.

“Let’s…” His eyes stray from yours. “Let’s go inside.”

His feet carry him three steps before you grab his arm to stop him. Your nimble fingers catch his thick biceps and he looks back at you with pain in his eyes.

“Y/N, please.” He pleads, eyes moist.

“Are we really not going to talk about it?” You questioned almost angrily.

The hand from his other arm touches yours, gently taking it off. “It was a mista–.” Your mouth gapes open at his choice of words.

“A mistake?” You finish his sentence with a raised voice. How can it be a mistake when he kissed you back? He’s confusing you. 

“No! That’s not what I meant.” He rubs his face with his hands and looks up sighing. “Can we talk about this later? Namjoon’s waiting.”

He doesn’t even wait for your answer and leaves you in a rush out in the cold street.

When you come back in, your feet carried you to where Taehyung was. He was still at the dance floor but just lightly dancing and engaging in conversation with his friends. You must have been walking in distress because his face immediately falls to worry when he spots you.

You look straight at him with moist eyes, silently telling him you need him. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back, yeah?” Taehyung bids his friends goodbye and drags you into the women’s comfort room and into a cubicle. 

“What happened?” Taehyung whispered. 

The corners of your lips turn downward and the tears you were holding back finally fall. You cried like a baby and you cover your face with your fists. The alcohol in your system must have had affected you more than you think it did with the way you were more emotional than usual. 

“Hey, hey. Calm down.” Your best friend tried to soothe you, grabbing your hands away from your face and wiping your tears. “You’re gonna ruin your makeup.” 

You slap him on the chest repeatedly. “My makeup is the least of my priorities right now!”

“I know. I know! I was just trying to make you laugh! I’m kind of freaked out right now because I’ve never seen you cry and I’m gonna be honest here, you’re actually kind of an ugly crier.” He rants as he tried to stop you from hitting him. 

When you stopped hitting him and there wasn’t an overwhelming feeling to wail and cry, you pushed the lid of the toilet close and sat on it. You look up at your friend who stands in front of you. There was a moment of silence and the only thing that can be heard is you sniffing.

“Not gonna lie, you look like you’re about to suck my dick right now.” Taehyung jokes again and he covers himself with his hands after saying it, afraid to be hit again. Instead, you glare at him and huff.

“We kissed.” You confess. 

“You what? Who?” His brows furrow in confusion, crossing his arms by his chest.

You gave him a look, not wanting to say the name. The man in front of you stares, thinking for a few seconds, then his eyes widens and he clasps a hand on his mouth when he gasps loudly. 

You shush him and he sits on bended knees to get closer to you. “You kissed Yoongi?! How the fuck did that happen?” He shouts in a whisper. 

“I kissed him and he kissed me back.” You answer and Taehyung watches as your face scrunches up and the tears well in your eyes again. He immediately brings out a handkerchief from his pocket and shushes you, offering you words of comfort like a little kid.

“And assuming you’re crying now, it didn’t end well?” He asks as he wipes your tears with the cloth. You nod with a pout over your tears and Taehyung smiles sadly. He always admired how you love so pure and delicately. He wishes Yoongi could see you the way he sees you. 

No, he doesn’t like you like that. But he wishes he could see that you were more than a little sister who’s been hurt. You’re a strong kind woman. The kind of person who would give up everything just to help someone. He wishes that not only Yoongi but also your brother could see that you only allow yourself to be vulnerable in front of them. 

“Do you want me to speak to him?” He genuinely offers, a bitter tone on his voice.

“No. He said we’ll speak after the party.” You answer, finally halting from crying.

Taehyung helped you collect yourself and fix the way you look before going out again. It was all your goal to not see or approach Yoongi for the rest of the night but you can’t help it when the first thing you see the moment you stepped out of the comfort room is his face.

There he was, sitting on a bar stool, away from the private tables. 

Unlike earlier when he stayed away from heavy drinks, there was a glass of whiskey in his hand. The regret of wearing white creeps in because you think it might’ve made you stood out against the dark ambiance of the place. You know because his eyes shift in your direction when Taehyung was dragging you out.

It would’ve been fine. You would’ve been okay if he just ignored you and carried on drinking. That was you were supposed to do too, anyway. 

But the thing that made your heart shatter was when you found who was sitting beside him–Jieun. You see her touch his arm and whisper in his ear. Taehyung has pulled you away from the scene before you see what happen next.

The night passed and you were left to act like nothing happened. You faked smiles and avoided Yoongi all throughout the night. Eunwoo did not approach you more that night which you were thankful for. It seemed he got the point that you weren’t interested in anything more. You danced with your friends, open your gifts in front of many, and wasted the night away with alcohol.

On the way home, you chose to ride with your brother. As you sit silently beside him, you were wishing he didn’t sense how there was a shift in yours and his best friend’s aura. 

Your mind brings you back to the kiss that still lingers on your lips and you wonder how the night had turned upside down. “How was that for a birthday, huh?” Namjoon asked.

“Was fun, yeah?” You only chuckle in response and looked out the window. You can feel him stare at you from your peripheral vision. 

“Who gave you that necklace?” He suddenly asks and you realize he must’ve been looking at the jewelry around your neck.

Your hand flies up to touch the necklace, once again being reminded of the man you’ve been trying hard to forget since hours ago. “Yoongi gave it to me.”

You don’t miss the way his expressions harden ir the way his knuckles turn white from the grip on the wheel. “Huh.” He only reacts.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, curious at his reaction. 

“Oh, nothing. The necklace is just familiar, that’s all.” He smiles at you before setting his eyes back at the road fully.

You feel the charm of the necklace up with your thumb and index finger, feeling the rough texture of it. 

Familiar? 

The drive home was normal after that. You didn’t have much conversation and only sang to some songs on the radio. When Namjoon was parking, Yoongi was already waiting outside his car. You watch him as he stands there with his hands in his pocket, kicking the ground like a kid impatiently waiting. 

“I asked him to wait so he could help carry some of your gifts.” Joon explained without you asking. You nod. “Ah.” 

When you stepped out the car, your eyes meet with Yoongi’s. It’s as if a million words holds them. 

“I’ll go ahead first. I need to wash up.” You say to both of them and break the contact with Yoongi. 

You did as you told and don’t look back at your brother and his best friend who were busy getting your gifts from the car. 

You lie in your bed, unable to sleep for hours. Finally giving up on trying, you sit up on your bed. Feeling a slight parch on your throat, you decide to get a glass of something to drink in the kitchen. But before you do, you text the man who was on your mind–the culprit of you not being able to sleep tonight.

u up? - 3:48 am

Not even a minute later, your phone dings with a notification. He must’ve been not able to sleep as well.

why - 3:48 am

meet me in the kitchen. - 3:49 am

Before leaving your room, you take a check on your appearance. You wore an oversized band shirt and comfy lounge shorts. You run your hand over your hair to brush over the stray strands that went in different directions over your aggressive turning on the bed. When you were satisfied with how your hair looked, you went out of your room and into the kitchen. 

He still wasn’t there when you arrived so you sat down on a bar stool by the kitchen counter and waited for him with a boxed chocolate drink in your hand. 

Yoongi finally steps out of his room, cheeks a bit swollen for some reason. He wore an oversized shirt like you but instead of pajama shorts, he wore grey sweatpants. Your eyes meet at the glow of the light coming from the kitchen. The corners of your lips turn slightly upward into a sad smile.

Before he sits down beside you, he grabs a glass of water from the fridge. He sets it down beside your drink giving you a small smile.

There was an uneasy silence for a few seconds as you both sit there and stare at your drink. 

“I’m–”

“So–”

You both speak at the same time, words overlapping.

“You go first.”

“Go ahead.” 

You chuckle and he sighs. “I’ll go first.” You declare. He only nods and takes a sip of his water. 

Your finger runs over the edges of the boxed drink, not being able to make contact with the person you’re speaking to. For a moment, your brain is telling you to don’t say it, as if it knows you’re only going to cause yourself pain if you do it. But a bigger part of you just wants to rip it off like a band aid.

“I like you.” You confess.

“Ever since I was in high school, I had this stupid crush on you.” You chuckle, an overwhelming emotion rushing through you. Your lower lips jutted out and you feel the warm tears trickle to your eyes. 

God, why can’t you do shit like this without crying?

“I know you don’t feel the same way. You said the kiss was a mistake–” 

“It wasn’t a mistake.” He interrupts you. This makes you look at him and he finally sees your reddening eyes, tears threatening to spill. It was a sight that broke his heart. The way he was causing you pain is agony to him.

“What?” 

He shakes his head. “The kiss wasn’t a mistake. I’m taking responsibility for it.” 

Oh. 

It’s like that. It wasn’t because he liked it or he liked you back. He was just taking responsibility for it. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It was great.” He looks at you straight in the eyes. You don’t notice the tears that have trickled down your face non-stop. 

“But I don’t think that something should happen between us more than that.” He continues after pausing. “For obvious reasons.”

Obvious reasons… your brother and your age gap. Fucking bullshit. 

He lifts himself off his seat but before he can walk away, you grab his arm. He stills in his stance, looking at your hand on his arm before looking straight to your eyes.

“Wait,” you gulped. You don’t think you should ask this. That way, you may be able to prevent the inevitable pain. But still, you weren’t thinking. If you don’t ask now, you’re afraid you will regret it forever. So still, you ask.

“Did you not feel anything?” you squeaked. Beneath the dim light, you see his eyes flash with something unreadable.

His eyes shift away from yours and down to the hand still grasping his arm. He thinks for a few seconds, probably pondering on how to break it to you. Slowly, he shakes his head. 

“No. I’m sorry.” 

With the words he let out, your hand falls from him and onto your sides, laying limply like the life in it was lost. 

He left you there in the kitchen for your heart to break alone. When he fully disappears to his room, you were left to support yourself with your hands on your face, weeping and your heart crashing all over the place. 

What a fucking birthday.

-

The silence in the atmosphere sent chills to your skin when you entered the apartment. The lights were turned off but the television was turned on, muted. Yoongi was lying on the couch, asleep. At least, that’s what he’s showing. You guess he’s just pretending to be asleep because he’s avoiding you because of what happened yesterday.

You headed to your room in silence and decided to take a nap. If only you knew, this nap was the nap you will remember forever. 

Screams were the first thing you heard. Then alarms, then horns of cars, then crying–needless to say, it was too overwhelming for you to stay asleep. You rise from your bed in panic, heading to the window to see what the commotion was about. 

Your hand flew to your mouth as you watched a helicopter crash into a far building. Then you looked down. Cars were all over. Some crashed together. One crashed into a pole. There were injured people everywhere. 

The first thing you thought of was Namjoon. Namjoon was outside. 

You scramble to get your phone that was buried in your sheets, quickly dialing Namjoon. You don’t pray a lot, but it seemed a good time to start. “God, god, please. Namjoon, please answer.” 

When he didn’t, you tried again. Then again. Then again.

You groaned and decided to give up when it seemed hopeless for the nth time. You’ll just have to see him for yourself. After slipping your phone into your pants’ pocket, you grab your jacket from your closet and wear it. 

“Yoongi!” you scream as you step out of your bedroom.

“Yoongi, you gotta help me. I can’t reach Namjoon! Something fucked up is happening outside. We need to go get him!” You turned on the lights to wake up Yoongi. But when your eye drifts to the couch, nobody’s there. 

“Yoongi?” You call out, hoping that Yoongi comes out of his room.  You chuckle, trying to make light of the situation with tears forming in your eyes, in hopes that you’re in a very bad nightmare right now.

“Yoongi? This isn’t funny. Where are you? What’s going on?” There’s an unexplainable fear that suddenly hit you.

Yoongi wasn’t in his room, you checked. He isn’t in Namjoon’s either. Not in the bathroom. So you called him too. He didn’t answer. You called Yoongi, then Namjoon again. He didn’t answer. 

That’s when your eyes caught the breaking news on the TV that was still muted. You unmute it. The reporter, the most well-known professional in the breaking news segment was in distress, tears falling from their eyes like waterfall. “Yes, this just in, an unknown force is making people disappear and turning them into dust. Including my partner, our own Mr.--” Whatever she was saying, you tune out, eyes only watching actual footage of people disappearing in the news then drifting back to the empty couch by your side.

Yoongi’s gone… and Namjoon probably is too. And with that realization, you find your knees getting weak and hitting the hard floor with a thud. 

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you. my works are not cross-posted anywhere else but this blog. thank you.

♡ Expendable Hearts: Masterlist ♡

title: expendable hearts pairing: levi ackerman x ex! afab reader genre: angst, fluff, romantic comedy (i'll try my best), exes to lovers, enemies to lovers, inspired by our beloved summer (kdrama), alternative universe - modern setting, college setting as flashbacks, mutual pining, mc is dumb, levi is dumb, they're both dumb warnings: eventual smut. probably won't use "y/n" very much. specifics and other warnings will be added each part. status: ongoing

Everyone in Levi's life knows he only ever dated one girl and that she left him wrecked, bitter, and heartbroken. Many years later, she's back in his life and he doesn't know what to do.

CHAPTERS

1: windex and baking soda (7.1k words) 2: wedding invitations (8.6k words) 3: ten things i hate about you (7.4k words) 4: earl grey (7.1k words) 5: paradis city (7.1k words) 6: busy nights (6.6k words)

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© levisolace. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. my works are cross-posted only on my ao3 account. thank you.

dealing with the worst case scenario

your condom breaks

you feel a lump on your breast

your friends are ignoring you

you’re stranded on an island 

you got rejected by a crush

you get into a car accident

you got stung by a bee/wasp

you got fired from your job

you’re in an earthquake

your tattoo gets infected

your house is on fire

you’re lost in the woods

you get arrested abroad

you get robbed

your partner cheated on you

you’re on a ship that’s sinking

you fall into ice

you’re stuck in an elevator

you hit a deer with your car

you have food poisoning

your pet passed away

you fall off of a horse

you or your friend has alcohol poisoning

you have toxic shock syndrome

your house has a gas leak

𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁𝘀𝗵𝗶𝗽

➺ Character: Levi Ackerman.

➺ Reader: afab!reader

➺ Words: 8 316

➺ Summary: Levi Ackerman. Duke Ackerman. A mysterious, stern man who never strays from the straight and narrow, whether by choice or because of his hectic schedule, no one knows and no one wants to know, because this social season, they say, he's planning to take a wife. To your best parade ladies, the most coveted bachelor is finally available…

➺ Warning: Misogyny. Women are seen as reproducers. It's not a smut, but it's tendentious.

➺ A/n: I've watched so much Queen Charlotte and Bridgertone that I wanted to write something in that kind of historical universe. Haha… that ties in with my love of historical manhwa. English is not my first language. Sorry for the mistakes.

"Are you ready for the new social season, Ackerman?

Slumped against the comfortable back of the imposing office chair, the principal concerned didn't even bother to look up from his documents. Not out of concentration but to avoid being confronted with the irritating sight of that shit-eating, mocking smile on his friend's lips. His hand, holding a quill, continued to scratch the paper, drowning the sheet under the jet-haired man's beautiful cursive handwriting. He was doing all he could to divert his attention from the noisy, annoying ramblings of this over-talkative individual who doesn't know when to stop talking. The social season was far from his first and he hoped it would be his last. To take a respectable wife and finally be rid of the target that all the carnivorous mothers were staring at behind his back.

"Levi Ackerman. The most coveted bachelor since Duke Smith was taken off the marital market. Smith has found himself a charming little wife who fills him with happiness. And who will you find to warm your cold heart and sour mood? Will you have a sweet little loving wife? Maybe you'll have a carbon copy of yourself, which I wouldn't wish on any of the servants in your homes. Putting up with you alone is enough, so a woman like you…" "Hange, if you've got nothing better to do, get the hell out of my house." "Aw Ackerman, you're so rude! I'm sick to my stomach."

Levi looked up briefly from his documents to shoot a bored glance at the person in front of his desk who was feigning a deep wound in his heart. He snorted in disdain before diving back into his urgent business, all the while continuing to ignore Hange's mocking and playful monologue. He didn't need to be reminded of the social seasons. He still remembered perfectly how many people gathered around him at every ball he had the misfortune to attend. At the time, Erwin Smith was also single, which eased some of the pressure from mothers eager to find a good match for their daughters. But now he was married, forcing Levi to face the demons alone in the elegant clothes of a noblewoman called mother. Worst of all, rumour had it that he was planning to take a wife. It wasn't a lie; he intended to declare his intentions and take the hand of a young woman who would meet his standards, which he was forced to lower in the hope of finding someone. However, this rumour would fuel the ambition of these mothers. He could already see himself in a ballroom, unable to take a single step without being interrupted by one of them. Levi could bet his hand that the person behind the rumour was standing right in front of him.

"Erwin was lucky to find someone who makes his heart beat. If I don't rule out love, it's the last thing that's going to enter into my calculations. I need a duchess. A woman who can host and organise receptions and welcome foreign dignitaries. I need someone who can manage high society and the heritage of our estates while giving birth to my children. She must have the shoulders and spirit to handle the duties of a duchess. She must have the dignity and poise that comes with the title." "You are demanding." Hange sighed, in a melancholy breath. "I have to be. I can't accept just anyone as Duchess and you know that. Erwin was very lucky. One in a million. Who knows if I could be so lucky as to find in the most capable of women the one I would love." "Good. You're so serious about this that I can't not lend you a hand." "Please. I don't need your help which is too often useless and catastrophic. Not to mention shitty." "Trust me! The Queen has already chosen her diamond, the girl who shines above the rest. I happen to know her personally." "Don't say it like it's some revolutionary idea. There was nothing more predictable than being interested in the diamond of the season. A girl who is all too often chosen for her beauty rather than her skills. A factor I have no interest in." "You're depressing Ackerman." Hange complains, her upper body slumped over the paper-free part of the desk.

Levi clicks his tongue against his palate, now having to endure the sighs and complaints of this individual lounging on his wooden desk that is surely worth more than a small estate in the heart of the capital. He makes a mental note to himself to thoroughly clean the wooden surface to remove any germs that Hange might leave on his wonderful desk.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Lady [Name]. Miss [Name]. What a pleasure it is to welcome you to our land. I hope British soil suits your tastes." "It is an honour, Your Majesty. We thank you for your hospitality." "Isn't there someone missing? Don't you have two daughters?" Asks the Queen, one eyebrow arched. "My apologies, Your Majesty, my sister could not bear the journey on the ship. She was forced to stay in bed while her illness subsided." You say.

Along with your mother, you bow to Her Majesty the Queen of England. There is no doubt that this woman is of a completely different class to the ladies of the nobility. The Queen is the most noble. The one to whom all eyes naturally turn. You can't help but let your eyes take in the sumptuous details of the lace covering Her Majesty the Queen's dress. A puffed-up dress that breaks with the current trend for empire dresses. Why didn't she follow the current fashion? Wasn't it a silent obligation of society not to step out of line at the risk of being singled out for criticism and harsh words by other nobles? You have abandoned the clothes of your native country to blend in with current British fashion, but you feel a touch of admiration before Her Majesty the Queen. Perhaps you could persuade your mother to let you proudly wear the dresses of your homeland?

"Come, come, come! We have so much to talk about. We'll soon be one big, beautiful family." "I hope so too, Your Majesty." Your mother affirms, with a discreet, unruffled smile.

With that, you follow in the Queen's rapid and ample footsteps. How can she be so comfortable in clothes that seem so uncomfortable? It's probably a question of habit. A few steps behind her, you try to keep up with the rapid pace through the magnificent corridors decorated with gilding and sculptures that you know are worth more than anything the less fortunate could dream of. On the walls hang paintings depicting the royal couple's life together. When they are young, then soon joined by a multitude of toddlers until these children take on the appearance of young adults. A chronological frieze that tells the story of a hidden family history.

There's nothing like that in your family. There's just a register that takes into account the many members of your clan. Only the hard core share the ancestral domain, while the others are invited every year for a week to maintain a certain union between all the members of your clan. And you… you're the chief's goddaughter. Daughter of the chief's sister. After the chief's daughter, you are the most noble thing in your country. The purest. If your cousin is promised to the prince of your kingdom, you… Are you going to join the jewels of the British Empire? That is a perfectly acceptable future. But are you prepared to give up your family? Your country? The life you've built there? To leave to start a new life with a man whose company you're not sure you'd enjoy?

For a moment, this sumptuous palace looks like a cage. Your future cage.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Miss [Name], what's your country like? I'm genuinely curious about the different regions." The princess's voice snaps you out of your thoughts. "At the risk of committing an act of treason on your soil, I admit that our landscapes have nothing to envy to those of British soil. I would even go so far as to say that they are splendid. I think you'd like it very much."

The princess lets a soft laugh slip from her lips, which she hastens to hide behind her fan. You squint your eyes in delight. The princess doesn't seem to be offended by this little joke; she seems to be enjoying it. You take a sip of the tea you were served a few minutes ago.

Several days have passed since your arrival. You still haven't met the prince who may become your fiancé, but you won't regret not having met him yet. You dread this moment. If you do meet him, it will all become too real for you. These imaginary chains of commitment will be physically represented by a sumptuous ring on your left ring finger. The very thought makes your stomach boil with palpable discomfort. Fortunately, you've been lucky enough to meet a charming princess your own age. Historia Reiss. A soul so sweet and pure that you could swear you'd want to protect her just so she wouldn't encounter any unpleasantness in her life. You could almost find comfort in her presence should you end up marrying one of the princes.

"The first ball of the season will be held at Lord and Lady Yeager's house. Would you be comfortable? I don't know how different the culture of your country is from here." "Don't worry, your highness. I used to attend quite a few balls in my country, along with my cousins. We never missed an opportunity to socialise. We were an inseparable trio…" "You seem very close to your family." "I grew up with them. I can't conceive of a life without them in my life." "With so many brothers and sisters, I can only understand you. Sometimes they're unbearable but in the end, I wouldn't give them up for anything in the world."

The atmosphere becomes heavy with nostalgia. Memories of numerous family events come back to haunt you and add to the weight on your shoulders. The same dilemma seems to be facing the princess, who is also due to marry in the not too distant future. She too will have to leave her family, perhaps even her homeland, to marry a powerful nobleman from another nation in order to forge ties. Because that's what women are for: to produce heirs and to act as bargaining chips in the political game. Knowing and accepting are two different things. You know your destiny, but can you accept it? Are you even being asked to accept it? No. You are asked to suffer and endure.

The princess coughed in a feeble attempt to lighten the almost ceremonial mood.

"If you wish, I can teach you a few things for your first ball here. I don't doubt your social skills, far from it! But the culture here must still be foreign to you…" "Thank you, Your Highness, it is with pleasure that I accept your kind offer."

A smile curves your lips. The afternoon is spent talking about the little subtleties of the English court, which you find so lacking. Little protocols, little messages coded behind the tilt of your fan. The language of the fan is different from that of your country. She also teaches you the latest rumours so that you don't feel too out of place, even if you don't really know the protagonists portrayed in her rumours. It would seem, however, that this kingdom is particularly fond of such gossip. Time passed at an alarming rate and before you knew it it was time to part. The sun was about to set. You both had to get ready for the dinner that was about to begin.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The evening of the first ball of the season has finally arrived. As expected, as soon as Duke Ackerman arrived, all the mothers with ambition presented themselves to him, their daughters in tow. He didn't hear any family names, all he heard was the roar of lionesses hungry for prestige or the pecking of hens. He almost cursed Erwin for abandoning him to indulge in his newlywed life. While he was genuinely happy for his friend, Levi couldn't help but curse him in this situation. A duke still single…a real dawn to behold. He excused himself briefly with a shake of his head, ignoring the sighs of disappointment, and extricated himself from the flock of ladies to join Hange, who was standing in the company of Erwin and his young wife.

He almost regretted having come to keep them company when he was forced to listen to Hange's mocking laughter, which seemed to find the Duke's distress satisfying in every way. If looks could kill, Hange would already be six feet under rotting and being eaten by worms. Too bad that's not possible.

"I can't wait to find someone nice so I can get away from all this excitement for good." Levi grumbled, his lips against the rim of his champagne glass. "You talk more than you act. If you keep running away, you won't know any of these girls and you'll end up another season on your own. A real vicious circle." Hange scoffs. "I'm not running away. I'm running away from this savage horde." Retorts the man concerned. "She's not wrong. You'll never find anyone at this rate." Erwin agrees, shaking his head. "Even Smith says so." Hange boasts. "Oh…I always thought you two would end up married. You're always together…" Lady Smith intervenes in a timid voice, unsure whether to say the words or not.

The other three turned to her. Erwin gently shook his head and calmly explained the situation. Hange couldn't help laughing as if she'd just heard the most hilarious joke, while Levi frowned, not holding back the visible disgust he felt at the very idea of having to share his life more than he already did with this individual. A friendly relationship could be tolerated, but more? Ah, God save him from this dark fate!

"My apologies! I always thought…" "Don't worry, my dear." Erwin said to soothe her. "It's common knowledge in the various circles of high society. Your relationship is a trending topic at every turn." Informs Lady Smith, a nervous smile on her lips. "Please don't say another word about it." Begs Levi, who swears a glass of champagne isn't strong enough to hear that kind of story about him. He needs stronger alcohol.

Fortunately for the Duke, the music ends, replaced immediately by the powerful melody of trumpets, a harbinger of the arrival of the one everyone is waiting for: Her Majesty the Queen of England. The big doors open, revealing the royal figure in her sublime gown of thick ivory with a few touches of blue. The guard at the door announced the Queen's arrival in a firm voice. Then other names were called: that of Princess Historia Reiss. Then the Countess [Name] and her daughter.

All bowed to Her Majesty the Queen, before rising to gaze at the two newcomers to the British court: mother and daughter [Name]. Two foreigners whose features stand out from the rest of the nobility. A refined exoticism that is sure to catch the eye of even the most self-righteous duke. Recognising beauty in the unknown is right up his street. But perhaps his gaze lingered a little too long on the young miss descending the stairs, as Hange tapped him on the side of the elbow. A single glance was enough for him to see the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

"Don't think about it, four eyes."

Hange shrugged, before pushing him forward, encouraging him to take a step towards the quartet who had finally set foot on the ballroom floor. Levi stumbled on his feet, managing to catch himself in time before hitting the floor. A movement that didn't seem to go unnoticed, on the contrary. He felt the weight of Her Majesty The Queen's gaze, which had just spotted him in the crowd. He refrains from swearing between his teeth, cursing the day Hange was born. With a perfect bow, he presented himself to Her Majesty, without bothering to smile. No one has ever seen him smile, he is thought to be incapable of it.

"Duke Ackerman, what a pleasure it is to honour us with your presence." The Queen begins. "The pleasure is mine, Your Majesty." "Have you already met our guests, Lady [Name] and Miss [Name]?" "I have not had that honour before today."

The Duke analysed the curve of the Queen's smile, then followed the discreet movement of her eyes towards the young miss in silent command. Levi wrinkled his nose briefly, so as not to break his legendary impassivity and reveal his displeasure at his situation. But perhaps he could have picked a worse partner than a young miss who had just arrived on English soil and who certainly didn't know the latest gossip. He walked around The Queen, his strides guiding him to a respectable distance from the foreign miss, his hand outstretched towards her. His steely eyes gazed into hers, taking in the minute details in her irises. The brilliance of the crystals on the ballroom chandelier was reflected in her eyes, as if a whole galaxy had taken refuge in her.

"Miss [Name], would you do me the honour of a dance?"

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

You smooth down the silk of your dress, which covers your body in a beautifully crafted adornment. You feel uncomfortable in this dress, not so much from the corset as from the layers of this empire dress. You weren't sure whether there was too much fabric or not enough. Your breasts, contoured by the corset, bulge out for all to see. Your eyes can't take your eyes off this display of flesh, which now seemed so unseemly just a few seconds before your entrance. A gentle pressure on your arm rouses you from your obvious discomfort. The princess stands beside you in a pleasant attempt to help you overcome the demons of anxiety. You offer her a gentle smile, thanking her for her kindness.

The double doors open to reveal the bright lights coming from the candles, especially the giant chandelier suspended above the couples of motionless dancers, facing you. All this attention is directed at you. Suddenly, all that nervousness evaporates like snow in the sun. The feeling of being the eye-catching jewel takes you back to the wonderful days when you and your two cousins dominated your country's high society. Your body remembers the small, graceful gestures and discreet, charming smiles of a noble lady. Why were you nervous again? You couldn't remember, but the delight of returning to balls and luxury made you feel like a fish in water.

Behind the Queen, you watch the Duke's silhouette approach you. A very handsome man, the orange glow of the candles emphasising the chiselled, severe features of his face. He doesn't stand out for his height, but the way his expensive suit clings to his muscles, the shadows discreetly emphasise the contours of his sculpted body. You hold your breath as he approaches you. Blimey, you've completely forgotten to follow the discussion that's just taken place. Has he caught you looking at him in the most shameful way possible? To your surprise, he invites you to join him in a dance. You slip your hand into his, a pleasant shiver caressing your spine as he traps your hand between his fingers, drawing you onto the dance floor. You feel his second hand slide down your side to rest on your hip, the perfect place to keep from being indecent. His warmth embraces you with a gentle sensation. It's so different to when you're being held by your cousin for a dance, it's different…because you're in the presence of a man and not a family member you grew up with. A breath slips from your lips as you feel his fingers tighten their grip on your hip. That simple touch electrifies your nerves. Your eyes gaze into his, searching for his soul for a brief moment. Perhaps it's simply because he's a man… the first man to hold you. Maybe it's because you can feel the firmness of his muscles under his suit.

The music begins, echoing throughout the room. You dance together, following the silent instructions of his body against yours. Around you other couples join in, but in all honesty you're not really paying attention.

"So…you're the most coveted bachelor of the season?" You ask to start a conversation with your dance partner. "I see you've been made aware of the latest rumours." The Duke resigns himself, his features hardened by the despair of his situation.

You can't help but let a laugh escape you at your dance partner's visible dissatisfaction. It would seem that this is a subject that puts him in an uncomfortable situation.

"The princess seemed well to inform me of the latest intriguing news at court so that I should not find myself out of place." "Do you intend to stay until the end of the season or will you be staying on British soil?" "It's a huge upheaval to change countries for good. But I'm beginning to discover the attractions of the British Empire." You reply, your gaze firmly anchored in his.

He opens his lips briefly, like a fish out of water. Then he turns in on himself, becoming once again the cold, stern duke, inflexible in his expressions if only for the tiny expressions that make him human and not a marble statue.

"The princess is a charming person who never fails to brighten my days. Her ladies-in-waiting, though I don't really know them, seem to me to be perfectly benevolent ladies."

The drawing music threatened to end the song. Soon you will have to part with this man whose surname and title you know only. A beauty like that won't struggle to find a wife before the season is over.

"I want to know you more, Your Grace."

No sooner do these words leave your lips than the music stops. The surprised expression on your dance partner's face reflects your own surprise. Tact has never been your strong point according to your twin sister, and today you have just confirmed what you have denied all your life. Are you really going to…propose getting to know another man? When you may end up betrothed to a prince if the discussions between your mother and the Queen come to an agreement.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

Levi didn't know what to expect when he asked her to dance, or what the queen might be thinking. This damsel had not crossed oceans to come here with the intention of seeing some scenery. Everyone could sense that a royal wedding was approaching. The union between two great and powerful families that would make every nobleman in their homeland tremble. Yet he had to restrain his hand from slipping lower on her hip to feel the curves under her dress that must remain inaccessible to him forever. It wasn't love at first sight, he didn't believe in it and the very concept seemed delirious and implausible. Nevertheless, he recognised the principle of attraction. And the young woman in front of him was one of the few to arouse in him the first shivers of desire. But she was out of reach. She would soon be joining the crown jewels. He was not going to jeopardise this young woman's fine future plans, just as he was not going to ruin the excellent reputation he had built up by staying away from brothels and opera singers looking for stability and finance in the arms of rich men.

The conversation was very casual, nothing interesting, just banal politeness. Despite the tingling in his fingers when his ears were graced by her laughter. He hated the fact that this stupid rumour, although true, was brought to the attention of his dance partner. But unlike the many other suitors, she had no intention of putting a target on his back, as a better partner was presenting herself. She could be a breath of fresh air, if only for a moment. Was it wrong to enjoy this dance? To enjoy this company even for a few minutes? One dance before returning to their respective worlds. Or so he thought, until the words left her lips.

"I want to know you more, Your Grace."

Like a mirror, their surprise was reflected in each other's faces. Those words shouldn't have been spoken, not to a stranger and not to someone you know. Those words imply a lot of things, especially with a woman who was perhaps going to join the crown. He shouldn't accept, he couldn't accept. Perhaps his answer, his refusal, was visible in his eyes, for he needed no words to make her more embarrassed than she already was. Under his hands, he could feel the heat radiating from this body that wanted to bend over and disappear six feet under to save herself the embarrassment. He could feel the movement of her muscles, he could feel her holding back from rushing away and abandoning him on the dance floor, causing a scandal. She held back to avoid causing trouble for him as much as for herself. In the shame of rejection, she knew how to behave and curb her urges to save face. A quality… if it could be described that way.

"I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. I beg you to forget what just happened."

She bowed in a curtsy, signalling the end of their dance. He returned the courtesy. And before he knew it, he was with his friends, a glass in his hand to quench his thirst. His gaze lost in the sparkling bubbles of the alcoholic beverage.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Why did fate seem so set against you? The ball was only a day old and yet you bumped into the man you swore you'd never see again for the sake of your pride. He also seemed taken aback, your eyes unable to tear themselves away from each other. You look away and concentrate on the young woman standing beside Lord Ackerman. She seems to be beaming with delight, ready to pounce on you for questioning or…examination. You feel the need to cover yourself with more than a dress and a thin shawl against the breeze.

"Oh, look at the sun; already so low in the sky. I'll be off, Ackerman! It's every gentleman's duty to keep such a charming damsel as the young miss company!"

Left in utter bewilderment, you bat your eyelashes at the spectacle, unsure of how to deal with the hasty departure of the brown-haired woman already far away from you both. Silently, you arch an eyebrow at Levi, as if to confirm that what has just happened really did happen.

"You…you're in the queen's gardens." "I am." Levi retorts.

Silence.

This is so uncomfortable, even for you. You decide to take your leave. A meticulously and swiftly executed curtsy, then you make your way back to the palace and hide under the covers of your bed to forget this second shame. You need to regain your composure. Shame doesn't kill, you've faced worse than this in your country! A man a little more handsome than the average is not going to make you forget your means. As you try to convince yourself mentally, you are slow to notice the footsteps at your back, until a hand wraps around your wrist. A gasp escapes your lips, and your body quickly turns towards the person who dares to touch you. You come face to face with the Duke. So close. Almost as close as when you were dancing. You blink, fighting against the honour you would lose if you were caught alone this close to a man, or the desire to feel that hand slide up your arm and lodge itself in the hollow of your neck.

"Your Grace…" You whisper. "I beg you to let me go. This is unseemly." You manage to stay firm on your feet, pushing deep into your mind that strange feeling that runs through you every time this man lays a finger on you. "I apologise. No matter how many times I called you, you didn't seem to be able to hear me."

With that, he releases your wrist, taking several steps away from you. A perfectly respectable distance. Your wrist still seemed to be burning from the Duke's touch. An exquisite warmth. Before you can sink any deeper into your thoughts, his voice brings you back to reality.

"I am also on my way to the palace. Allow me to accompany you."

Even now you're wondering what went through your head to accept the proposal of a man you can neither know nor approach for the sake of your mother's discussions. No… It was only a courtesy, there was no implication. It's ridiculous to worry so much about a man you only met a day ago. It's because he's so beautiful that you lose your nerve! It's only attraction, nothing more can come from this beauty. The journey continues in silence. Honestly, you don't know whether you prefer silence or a conversation filled with banality to fill the void. On reflection, however, the Duke seems to revel in the quiet, preferring words when absolutely necessary. In this respect, he reminds you of your twin sister, who thrives on silence and useful conversation. A smile lights up your face, shy and as light as the cherry blossoms that fall from their tree when the season ends.

"Was that Miss Zoe?" You ask, annoyed at more silence. "Your ability to learn all the latest society gossip both fascinates and frightens me. you'll make a fine lady of British society." Levi sighed, admitting defeat at your ability to inform yourself on such matters just days after arriving on the soil of the Kingdom of England. "You flatter me, Your Grace. But I am not. Your person intrigues every person in this company. Almost every rumour revolves around you." "I intrigue you too, it would seem." "Don't give yourself too much credit, Your Grace." You reply with a hint of mischief in your voice. Teasing your interlocutor. "You are the prologue to a great book called High Society in the British Empire." "Oh, but it's when you read the prologue that you decide to continue reading a book. Are you going to continue reading this book, miss?" He snarls, his steely eyes darting into yours in defiance. "I don't know. I haven't read the whole prologue to be able to decide." You reply with a satisfied smile.

Your smile widens as you hear the Duke chuckle. If you didn't listen carefully, it would be easy to miss his laughter. A soft warmth spreads through your chest, satisfied that for a moment you have been able to break the cold, unruffled expression. Once outside the glass doors leading to one of the palace's too many halls, your companion stops in his tracks. This is it. The time has come for you to part. There's no need to exchange any more words, just a glance at each other and you already know that you mustn't stay together any longer than that. So you do what your mind tells you rather than the tug of disappointment of interrupting a beautiful discussion. You go your separate ways until fate allows you to see each other again.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The weeks went by. Invitations to the ball, invitations to tea, days spent with Princess Historia and sometimes, exceptionally, you have the honour of sharing a conversation with the Queen. You never got even a glimpse of the prince who might become part of your future. Nothing was official yet, but wasn't it the least you could do to come and see one of the women who was going to share his life? The Prince shone through his absence from the palace, but rumours spread quickly, even among a young miss who was still new to British society. You've heard the rumours: the Prince favours an opera singer. He flaunts her publicly with no regard for his honour. Historia was trying to protect you, but at the same time she refused to hide her brother's imperfections from you, especially if you were to marry him. This is how you discovered that he had fathered two little bastards whom he was trying to have recognised by his mother so that they could become princes with a right of succession.

Disgusting.

Was this the future fate that awaited you? Waiting for your twin sister? Sharing a life with a man who shows the world his mistress? Unable to do so discreetly like most other nobles.

That should be your main concern, yet you can't help thinking of the duke who shares a few conversations with you when you find yourselves at the same ball. You always shared a dance under your mother's watchful eye. She said nothing, did nothing to prevent you from getting involved with other men. Perhaps she thought, as you did, that it was just a friendly relationship that was developing? Perhaps you were the only one to convince yourself of this lie when you wanted to feel the Duke's hands on your hips. Were you alone in feeling that desire boiling in your chest? Yet here you were, once again, sharing a fleeting moment of happiness that was to end as soon as the ball was over. On the balcony of the manor house, surrounded by a few souls looking for refreshment, you were chatting with the Duke. Lost in your admiration of the thin smile that lit up the Duke's stern face, at this moment he looked divinely peaceful.

"Come now, Your Grace, these are not noble words to say in public, and not in front of a woman either." You murmur, stifling your mirth behind your fan. "Are you the best person to speak of noble words? I remember the last ball…" He replies, teasing you. "Your Grace, you promised never to speak of that again!" You react immediately, urging him with a wave of your hand to lower the volume of his voice in the hope that no one will hear him. "I didn't…I simply mentioned the last ball. Where have I sinned?" "You are impertinent." "Oh, Miss [Name], impertinence is a sin."

You roll your eyes as your lips make contact with your glass of champagne, taking light sips to avoid repeating the same mistakes you made at the previous ball. Even now you regret drinking a little too quickly with so little food in your stomach, the result wasn't bad enough to damage your reputation in the eyes of society but… The Duke witnessed a lot of…freedom on your part.

"Your Grace." A woman's voice breaks the comfortable silence that has just settled.

You both turn towards the woman who has come forward with three daughters on her arms. Ah… A mother has just spotted him, causing the other mothers to come to him with that simple word. You offer a compassionate smile mixed with a touch of mockery as you leave him in the hungry hands of the mothers and daughters. Swallowing the bitter taste of frustration at the very idea that a woman will have the honour of becoming Lady Ackerman. The wife of such a good and kind man… while you…

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you return to the quarters you have been given for the time of your stay here, your mother is standing on the sofa in the bedroom. She closes the book and puts it down again in a terribly slow gesture. You lick your lips, suddenly nervous about what she might be telling you. There was always that imperturbable smile on your mother's face, but you knew her better than anyone. The slight wrinkle of her nose could only mean one thing: she wasn't satisfied with something. Did the discussions between her and Her Majesty The Queen go badly? You can only imagine the worst.

You take your place at your mother's side, your hands gripping hers in an attempt to comfort her or yourself. You're not sure. The impatience was going to kill you, yet she continued to remain silent. She seemed almost about to give up on telling you.

"Mother, what's the matter?" "[Your name]…I must say I should be pleased, yet I can't seem to rejoice."

You swallow your saliva with difficulty. Your fingers tighten around your mother's hands. Her fingers caress the backs of your hands in a circular motion, a gentle massage to try and soothe your raw nerves. But it brings no comfort.

"They agree to the marriage…" It wasn't a question. You let the phrase leave your lips in a silent breath. "Yes. They accept the union between our two families." "I see…" You fail to express more than those two words. "They did not specify the name. If a man caught your eye…" "No, no one caught my eye, I would marry the prince." "Are you sure, my dear child?" "Quite sure." "You still have a few weeks to think about it."

Your mother places a kiss on your forehead, leaving you alone in your room to consider the implications further. It's no longer just about you and your selfish desires. It's about the future of your family.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Miss [Name], it is an honour to meet you." "The pleasure is mine, your royal highness."

Those words stick in your throat, barely holding back the bitterness of disgust as the prince's lips brush the back of your hand. Lips that have whispered words of love to another. That have kissed the lips of another. And unlike other men, he never hid the fact that he had a mistress. Why do women have to be pure and chaste until they get married, while men do unspeakable things to 'enjoy' their youth before they tie the noose around their own necks? Why does she have to put up with the shame of a future husband who is incapable of controlling himself? Why does she have to put up with the way the prince looks at her?

For the family.

For your family, you will smile politely at the Prince, get to know him and pretend not to be repulsed by his touch. You will turn a blind eye to his actions and accept that he defiles your body with his sinful touch. For the sake of your family. For the sake of your twin sister, you will endure and accept this marriage. You know that your sister is in no state to put up with such a situation for years to come. But are you?

That tea to get to know you was as dull and miserable as the Prince's personality. He didn't want this marriage either, and he showed it shamelessly by hinting at his relationship with this opera singer. You couldn't dislike this woman. She is looking to survive, a prince is an excellent match and a protection against the harshness of everyday life for the less fortunate. You hated the prince. He is the one who initiated this relationship and who brings shame on Her Majesty The Queen and the entire royal family.

But for the sake of your family, you will turn a blind eye to this deplorable moment. You will smile at your mother's questions about your compatibility with the Prince.

"You are as beautiful as they say. Had I known sooner, I want you to know that I would have hastened from my royal duties to come and meet you." "You flatter me your royal highness. But I would be sad if you had to hasten your duties as prince to come and keep me company." You reply in the kindest tone you can muster. "You are right, after all, we could well spend the rest of our lives together."

A shiver of horror runs down your spine. Spend your life with him… for eternity. An infinitely long time. A life away from your land and your family to start one with this individual who is supposed to embody the best that the kingdom of England has to offer. But here again, you force a smile onto your face and offer a shy laugh like a sweet young damsel too modest to imagine making a life with a prince.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

How many days since this woman had approached him? She had expressed a desire to get to know him, she had persisted in talking to him despite her situation, and little by little she had dug into the abrupt façade he had built for himself as duke. And here she was, categorically refusing to stand in front of him or give him the slightest glance as she held her prince's hand and let him slide his hand lower than he should during a dance. He had always known how this story would end: badly. Despite all the warnings and dangers that his conversations with her continued to entail, Levi had found himself enjoying her company. Those moments of laughter when she momentarily forgot all about propriety. Those moments when the stars twinkled in her pupils and always fascinated him. Those moments of peace when even the most unhelpful discussions became distractions for him, even though he hates talking in vain.

This woman had forced her way into his life, only to leave as quickly as she had entered. He was angry with her. He blamed himself for having let her do it when he knew full well that a foreigner would not cross the oceans without the intention of marrying a prince.

Yet the sight of her unhappy eyes, of her thin, peaceful smile that can't deceive him… Levi hates having to be a mere witness to her fatal fate. A splendid woman with a mind and heart of gold married to a pathetic excuse for a prince. He hates how his chest boils with dull anger at the sight of this extraordinary woman trapped in invisible chains pulled by adults to gain power. For the sake of these two great families, she will sacrifice herself and accept a miserable marriage. A condemnation to torture for eternity.

But what business is it of the Duke's? None at all. He shouldn't interfere. He should be content to continue his search for a future duchess. Oh… But had he even begun his search? He didn't have the slightest recollection of having really been looking for anyone during this entire social season. For a moment, the face of that terribly annoying woman appeared in his mind. It was her again. Always her. Always [First name] [Last name].

He needed air. Immediately.

The wind hits his face as he sinks into the depths of his hosts' garden. Luckily for him, he's a man, so he's able to walk freely without his honour being called into question. And even if it wasn't, at the moment, he couldn't give a damn about his honour. His rational mind is fighting with his heart, which has decided to awaken a conscience of its own.

It's always that woman's fault.

If only she hadn't come into his life, everything would have been resolved by now. He'd already have a fiancée. He would have settled into a comfortable life far removed from the problems of being a single duke.

A creak drew him out of his thoughts. Someone was in the garden with him. Who would go this far into the gloom if it wasn't another man who was also trying to get away from greedy mothers? No… It wasn't another man, his breath catching in his throat as he laid eyes on the female figure who was the target of his internal battle.

"Miss [Name], are you unconscious? You mustn't be here alone, you're in big trouble." He tries to whisper despite his desire to scold her for such inconsiderate conduct. She was lucky to run into him and no one else, but no other noble soul should see them at the risk of causing a huge scandal.

Yet the harsh, reproving words he was about to say to her disappeared like snow in the sun. His eyes went wide as he witnessed the wet marks on the reddened cheeks of the young woman, who nevertheless had only a smile on her lips, true or false. She is crying. Alone. In the half-light of a garden. Breathing hieratically as if she has just escaped from something… or someone.

"Your Grace. Le…Levi."

A shiver caressed his body as his first name slipped from the miss’s moist lips. A name barely louder than a whisper, yet he could still hear it echoing in his mind. The sensation far surpassed his wildest thoughts. He didn't react until it was too late, when she let herself run straight into his arms. Buried against the hollow of his collarbone, she sobbed her pain, hoping for comfort. He could only guess. What was he supposed to do? Should he embrace her and risk being seen to sully the impeccable reputation of a future princess? Should he push her away and force her to go discreetly to a safer place where she would no longer fear anything? His hands clenched into a fist, he forced himself to stand still. He chose neither of the two options open to him. He couldn't go any further, just as he didn't have the strength to push her away.

"Miss [Name]. You shouldn't do that. It's dangerous." "I don't care!" "…You will soon be joining the crown jewels. I believe that soon your engagement will be announced. You must not risk ruining your future." "I have no future with such a man! You know that…you must have heard the rumours."

Who hasn't? Everyone had heard them. The prince had done everything he could to make sure the whole kingdom knew about his mistress and the two bastards he had fathered with her. He knew deep down that she would not have a bright future. But he also knew that this current situation, even if it didn't affect her, would inevitably lead her to a much more shameful and painful end than marrying an adulterous prince. At least she would have the luxury and comfort of a peaceful and secure life.

"Stand aside." He orders as firmly as he can. "Then do it." She provokes him. He knows she is trying to make a point. He orders her to step aside to perform a task he cannot. A frown bars the Duke's inexpressive face. "Miss…"

Only a whisper leaves the Duke's lips as he tilts his head to watch the miss against him embrace him as if her life depended on it. He can feel her breasts dancing against his, the layers of clothing separating them doing nothing to soften the sweet sensation of her breasts against his torso. His gaze wanders over the curve of her breasts, bulging from the corset. Enticing. Inviting. Terribly…irresistible.

"I have no future without you, Levi."

His name again. Again her bloody words to seduce him. To make him stray from the straight and narrow path he'd set for himself. He shouldn't destroy his whole life for one woman. He shouldn't…

Yet he surrendered to a kiss. He revels in the surprised moan of the woman who holds his heart in the palm of her hands. He savours with appetite and delight the faint contractions of her muscles against him, an honest and sincere body enjoying the heated kiss. He's going to engulf her. He feels he is capable of ravishing her essence and soul with this kiss, because he wants everything she has to offer. He wants to be able to caress the radiance she embodies with his fingertips.

꒱࿐♡ ˚.*ೃ

His lips glide down your neck, covering every inch of accessible skin with light, velvety kisses. These simple little touches electrify your raw nerves. Your hands grasp his shoulders, in the faint hope of supporting you as your legs buckle under your own weight. You feel his kisses linger on your sweet spot, a moan slips from your lips but you can't hold it in. The petticoats of your dress lift as the Duke's hands roam over your bare thighs to find your crotch clad in fabric so thin he can feel the moisture seeping through. You collapse under the weight of the new sensations of ecstasy. Pleasure seeps into every pore of your body.

"L-Levi."

His name has become an unholy prayer. A sacred mantra that keeps your mind from slipping into the depths of this new ecstasy. His fingers encircle this sensitive little bud, caressing you through the fabric, actively working to introduce you to a new world. His lips cover yours in an instant, silencing your unholy moans from echoing too loudly in the darkness of the garden.

"[First name]…you are the bane of my existence. You are my dearest sin."

Never mind if you get caught…right now, only the two of you matter.

dreaming boy

title: dreaming boy pairing: nonbinary!jimin x nonbinary!reader (afab) ; namjoon x reader genre: fluff, angst others: adapted from a poem from sarah kay entitled "dreaming boy", college au, masc oc and femme jimin, they still use gendered terms and pronouns voluntarily (he for jimin and she for reader), wc: 5.8k warnings: mature themes, gender confusion, awful judgemental people, implied sex (fairly sfw), tackles gender labels, one girl is completely out of it and pushes herself to reader but nothing happens disclaimer: this work is purely fiction. it does not wish to change jimin's real gender identity, whatever it may be. if i ever wrote something in this that may seem offensive or uneducated, please do feel free to tell me about it. i know that gender and sexuality has many grey areas and i do not wish to offend anyone. note: this is an edited and reposted version of a story i wrote from my old blog. you can find the post here. summary: ever since you were old enough to have boobs, all the people around you already caged you in a label you don't feel particularly attached to. with how you talk, walk, and dress, everyone just assumed that you are. so, you try and search a label for yourself but fail miserably. that is, until jimin comes along and shows you labels are just there to cage you.

In most of the dreams you remember from childhood, you were a boy.

Mudded knees and heels, you would raise your fist up high. The maiden in the tower, thankful as you rescued her. She would hug you and you would feel content. But it was not the maiden that made you feel that way. You know this because, in other dreams you had, you were not rescuing someone in particular. You were just a boy. Definitely a boy. No maidens that needed saving but it excited you.

Dreaming seemed to be not enough. You want to live that excitement when the sun rises too. So when you reached middle school, while the other girls wore skirts and pretty tops that some were already starting to fill out with their gorgeous body shapes,  you walked the halls with your oversized shirts and snapbacks, hiding whatever feminine shapes you would grow to have. With the hell that is school and the abundance of unneeded stares and gossip from people you know, the scraps from all the people in that middle school have already labeled you with a word. “Lesbian,” they said. That’s what you are. Though, you never confirmed it to anyone, for it is not a word that you feel connected to at all when you sneaked into the computer room of your middle school to google search what it meant. Girls are pretty, sure. You can see yourself falling in love with them, but really, you don't even know what falling in love really meant. But to be associated with the word just doesn’t seem right.

You wondered if you can dream yourself a gender. One that’s only yours. One that makes sense to you. 

That word hung to you in high school.

While the popular kids’ girls would look at you in disgust and discomfort like you were immediately attracted to them just with one glance, a guy actually tried to kiss you at one party during junior year in high school. Most of you were fairly drunk, being newly introduced to alcohol. It was a classic game of seven in minutes in heaven and the other boys in class rudely commented to “Just compare dicks or something, I guess.” when they locked you in the room.

He was so nice and tall. He asked you if you really liked girls. And you shook your head. “I don’t know,” you said.

His dimples were cute and he was pretty smart too. He was a lowkey kind of dude called Namjoon. He says he actually never had his first kiss and before you stopped your words, they came out of your mouth like a cannonball. 

“Do you want to kiss?”

His eyes widened and asked if you were sure. A part of you liked him and thought he was cute enough to be your first kiss. But also a hidden part of you is doing this to prove that word wrong. He smiled and showed you his dimple cheeks and leaned in. When your lips touch, to your surprise, you actually liked it. Your heart fluttered and butterflies flew in your stomach. So the next day, you still wore your oversized shirt but lost your snapback and let down your beautiful long hair. The next day after that, you walked the halls hand in hand with Namjoon, surprising everyone who starred and gossiped about you.

You dreamt of the ocean for weeks, never in control of your limbs.

He made you feel special. He would write you notes and put them in your locker. In your first month together, he got you a cute charm bracelet. And every month, he added a charm. You liked Namjoon. You really did. Eventually, you stopped hearing the word. And it didn’t bother you anymore. Next to Namjoon, you were a convincing enough girl. You still liked your sneakers and your oversized shirts, but sometimes you would trade your pants for simple jean shorts that would show your pretty, long legs. He said he liked them and you liked that. People seemed to think that you were now a girl and somehow you are convinced too. At least, when you were awake.

At night, you were Batman. At night, a fireman. At night, a boy with muscles in boy places, a firm hand, and a direction to run.

And so, the excitement was gone and once again it felt wrong.

Namjoon felt wrong. And he sensed that too so you cried on his chest that night in his room. You were frustrated with yourself. So was the word that was thrust to you right after all? You thought. Namjoon hugged you that night and you know he was holding back his tears. He wished for you to figure things out soon and promised he will be there for you. Senior year, you were still friends with Namjoon and still hung out with him but people around you quickly picked up that you were no longer in a relationship. Some say you finally realized your true sexuality but more are just convinced you broke up on your own terms. Namjoon didn’t really care about what they were saying about you and him. Maybe that’s why you like him so much. So you stuck by his side until you graduated high school and he let you.

It may not have worked, but at least a friendship was formed. He listens but still... no one really understood you or related to you.

College came by and you were welcomed by different kinds of people.

Suddenly, everyone is no longer just gossiping scraps from the popular kids table. Everyone is discovering themselves in their own kind of way. Well, people still talk, but not really to bully. Talk is all people are really gonna do, you settled with yourself. By that time, it didn’t bother you anymore; even without Namjoon by your side. With his top-notch brain, Namjoon got into a top medical university. You, on the other hand, studied Engineering and ended up in a pretty decent university an hour away. Despite that, you still kept in touch. Still, studies are a mess and the both of you were distracted enough to only text or meet each other a few times a month.

Parties are a mess too, you learned. Frat parties are the worst. Everyone is either making out, grinding with one another, getting drunk, or getting high. Exploring. That’s what everyone said they’re doing. Being newly adults, everyone is eager to try things they haven’t before. And so were you.

That’s where you met Momo. She was a sorority girl who attended the frat party you came to one Friday night. She had this beautiful dark hair and eyes that lured you in. The both of you grinded on the dance floor and felt each other’s bodies.

She was the very first girl you kissed.

It was nice but... you didn’t like it as much as with Namjoon. Maybe it was the way your faces melted into each other. Maybe it was the way your mind searched for stubble or the hard jaw or the cinnamon scent. You couldn’t breathe through all her lilac perfume. And so that ended on the dance floor.

That night, you dreamt of being lost in the forest, of a terrible tidal wave.

If you were not a “lesbian,” what possible explanation do you have? What words could you tie around this treacherous heart, the impossible hunger, your miserable mind?

Three college parties later and you were back again with your friends, a red cup in your hand filled with mixed alcohol that your friend gave you. You have tried to kiss multiple boys and girls after that, desperate to find an answer for yourself. Soon, you just gave up, settling that you were fine with making out and fucking a few guys here and there but never getting into a relationship with them.

Until he came along.

You were dancing with your intoxicated friends on the dance floor when you laid your eyes on him. He strutted into that party with his pink hair and striped purple sweater like he owned the place. From a group of people behind you, you heard someone say, “Oh, he’s definitely gay.”

That was a confusion you recognize.

You found out that he was good at dancing, great, even. He wowed everyone on the dance floor and you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. You then began to stare at him the whole night. Like an eagle eyeing its prey. He was so sure of himself, so forgiving, so gentle but at the same time so confident. You were intrigued.

And so since college is all about exploring, you wanted him to explore you too.

At the next party, you made it a mission to be close to him. You made your way beside him when he was getting himself a drink before maybe heading to the dance floor to show everyone how it should be once again. You got a clean cup while he was pouring in his and you began to talk.

“You here to grace us with your dancing again?” You smirk and stretch your right hand to get the bottle of vodka a bit far from his left. Your chest bumped with the right side of his upper body and your face was mere inches away from each other. Your eyes stared at his and you can clearly see the way his cheeks tinted pink because of the interaction. It was cute how he found your subtle but obvious flirting gesture enough to be flustered. When your hands clasped the bottle, you stared for a few more seconds and then moved away.

It was when you pour the drink into your cup that he snaps back to reality.

“Well?” you ask.

“U-uhh. Yeah. I guess.”

You nod. “I’ll go and watch when you do, pinky," you nicknamed him, referring to his prettily dyed hair.

And just a few minutes after, you see him already making his way to where everyone was dancing. His body moved gracefully as he danced to that one famous girl group song. It felt like the walls were leaning close to him when he danced, everyone watched in awe and cheered. When he was done, everyone applauded him and his friends fist bumped, hugged, and pushed him in excitement. Then he stayed on the dance floor and danced with everybody else.

You learned from your friends that he was a dancing major. They never really heard of him dating so they weren’t sure where you would lie with him. But he looked pretty interested earlier. And now, as he stared you down while he was swaying to the beat of the DJ.

You walked over to him through the bodies that were grinding against you. When you reached him, he smirked. “Did that live up to your expectations?” You grinned and brought your face closer to his. “That was even better, baby boy.” And you danced with each other the whole night.

When you wasted the night away and the party was about to go down, you asked him if he wanted to go home with you, clearly making hints of sex.

He gave you a cute smile and nodded. “Sure,” he said. You weren't expecting him to agree.

When you reached your place, you made him sit on your bed and he looked at all your posters of rock bands, anime, and Marvel superheroes in the room. You also had a few of your Funko Pop collections displayed on the shelf, the rest were safe at home.

“Do you like Marvel movies?” You asked. He nodded. “I do. My favorite is Captain America.” You nod and pull up your downloaded Captain America: The Winter Soldier from your hard drive of illegally downloaded movies. You set down your laptop in the middle and watched side by side on the bed.

15 minutes into the movie later, you placed your hand on top of his and caressed it. He made the next move to hold it and you continued to caress it with your thumb. If you two started the movie with space in between, there was none of it now but the warmth of your body heat next to each other.

You look away from the laptop screen and look at him, your faces merely inches away from each other.

He looked at you with expecting eyes, pretty and glistening. He was so pretty that you decided to make the first move and kissed him.

The kiss was soft. It was nice. Better than Namjoon’s. He had the missing piece you were always looking for but you could never point out what it is out. When you pushed the kiss deeper and placed your hand against his ribcage to push him down. He pulled away and removed your hand from his. He looked at you with lust but sincerity in his eyes.

“Can we take it slow?” He asked.

You nodded and went back to sitting down. Suddenly, you felt like a fourteen-year-old trying to get a bra strap off. You watched the movie in silence but still held hands. He didn’t find it awkward like you kind of did since you still feel a tiny pang of embarrassment when you tried to deepen the kiss, wondering if you miscalculated things.

Maybe he wasn’t interested in you that way. Maybe he just wanted to be friends.

He spent the night anyway and you lay next to each other breathing, the tiny bed leaving your hand inches away from his boxer shorts twitching under the covers. You do your best not to touch him in any way.

The morning light has slipped into your room when you wake up. He was still sound asleep beside you, curled up against you while you hugged him from behind. You remember the events from last night and can’t help but cringe a little. Unfortunately, you had a makeup Saturday class in less than an hour because your professor had a conflict with his schedule during the weekday and you hoped he would wake up before you leave. He didn’t though. So you left him a note, a glass of water, and medicine for a hangover if ever he had one.

When you got back in the afternoon, you found that your bed was made. The clothes on the floor were cleaned up and tossed into the used bin. You were always kind of messy and you weren’t proud of that. You found that a few of your clean clothes were folded as well. You felt a tug in your heart at the small gesture.

Hours later, he texted you. You gave him your number on the note and told him to save it and you were so glad he did.

Thank you for last night xx — This is Chim! 💜

You giggled at the little nickname he got for himself and the purple heart emoji he put right beside it.

You’re welcome, Jimin. Thank you for kinda fixing up my room. Sorry I’m such a mess. You didn’t have to do that.

Nonsense. It was the least I can do when you let me stay the night babe.

You blushed at the nickname. You then realized that you have it bad and hoped that your tiny crush would go away and not develop into something more.

It didn’t go away.

Jimin and you became two peas in a pod, doing everything together. Sometimes, he would go to your department just so he could eat lunch with you at the university. During parties, you would not leave each other’s side even when some guys (and girls) would try and hook up with you. When you talk to others with the intent of going somewhere that leads to going to a secluded place, you would always find him sulking in the corner somewhere and staring at you. You found it cute and that would lead you back to him.

He does the most random things, you learned.

Out of nowhere, he learned the flute and knocked on your door at 12 in the morning to play it for you. He sang your songs while he played. At that moment, you really wondered if this man fell from heaven.

“Are you a secret angel? Confess now.” You asked him. His voice was so soothing and angelic like his whole personality and face is not enough to convince you that. He chuckled and winked. “Will never tell my secret.”

He also liked picking flowers from where he wasn’t supposed to. Once in a while, he would give you those flowers. Not only you though. He’ll leave a piece outside the door of every room on your floor. He says that everyone deserves a little flower sometimes. And he says it with a piece of flower stuck in his ear.

On your birthday, he surprised you with a triple-layer cake that he baked overnight in your place while you slept. You walked into him in your kitchen trying to ice it. You watched him, with his shirtless torso on display, put the icing into a tube and you thought you have never loved a body the way you loved his at that moment.

“Oh, you’re awake. Happy birthday, darling.” He greets you when he sees you in your oversized shirt and nested hair. You didn’t have pants on but you were comfortable enough to look like that around him. You snapped out of your thoughts on his body when you heard him speak and he gave you one of the best birthdays in your life.

It was another lazy day and you were on the couch with Jimin. He was making you watch a romcom that was his favorite when the doorbell rang. You asked him if he ordered anything because you didn’t and he shook his head. You stood up to answer the door. When you opened the door, a tall, dimpled guy came into view.

“Joonie!” You screamed and jumped at him. He laughed and picked you up from where you jumped and wrapped your legs around him.

“There’s my favorite girl,” Namjoon said and hugged you tight.

When he let you back down, you express your glee. “What the fuck brought you here, man? I fucking missed you.”

You punched his chest lightly. He gasps dramatically and rubs his chest. “Med school is stressing me out lately and my friends told me I should let out some steam so I decided to visit my favorite person that’s only an hour away.” He says.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh. Okay? I’m the only option because you can’t drive?” You tease him.

Namjoon still didn’t have a license so he takes the bus when it is time to go home. He prefers riding his bike and decided that driving cars just wasn’t for him. Besides, he has you to drive him home during the holidays anyway.

“Y/N?” Jimin called from the couch. You noticed he has paused the movie and was now looking at you two, waiting for himself to be acknowledged.

“Oh. I didn’t know you had someone over. I should’ve called but I wanted it to be a surprise.” Namjoon said.

“Hi. I’m Namjoon. I’m Y/N’s best friend-slash-ex-boyfriend.” He introduced himself with what our high school classmates used to call us.

You sighed. “Shut up, Joon. Jimin, this is Joon. Joon, this is Jimin, my friend here in college.” You wondered if a friend is the right term at the moment. It was true though. You didn’t have any labels. Even if you have kissed once or thrice and cuddled more than friends should have.

“Yes, I’m Y/N’s friend.” Jimin says. Namjoon nodded. “Nice to meet you.” Jimin didn’t smile back which was unusual for him. “Nice to meet you too.” 

“You can go and sit down. We’re watching a movie.” You said to Namjoon who handed you something in a paper bag.

“I got you your favorite chocolate croissant and a bottle of cheap wine we could drink.” You accepted it and scoffed.

“Woah, Joon. You’re getting fancy. Are the rich kids in that med school making you like this?” You said and kept the food in the kitchen to eat later.

“Do you guys want some food? We could order out.” You asked the guys sitting on your couch.

“Pizza?” Joon asked and you nodded.

You sat in between them and brought out your phone. You went to the delivery app and picked out the pizza flavor.

“Hawaiian?” Joon asked as he saw you pick out the flavor he knows you don’t like. Jimin loves it though and you just got used to ordering it.

“Yeah.” You say nothing more, afraid that he’ll expose you and that you hate the pineapple on top of it. It’s a good thing he didn’t say more.

“What are we watching, by the way?” Namjoon asks while Jimin still sits there quietly. You look over to Jimin for help. You forgot the title of the film.

“Oh. Uhm. Legally Blonde.” Jimin answered.

Namjoon nodded. “Oh. Nice. Y/N doesn’t really watch romcoms so I got confused for a bit. I guess our little Y/N is kinda changing, huh.” You roll your eyes. “Shut up, Joon.”

The moment the movie ended and your food was finished, Jimin began to gather his things. “I think I need to go. Got things to do.” He says, not looking at you in the eyes. He didn't bother waiting for your response and headed out the door.

“Chim?” You caught his wrist when you followed him just outside your door. He looked back at you and smiled, except, you noticed it was not the same smile he gives you. There was something else underneath it.

“What’s wrong?” You asked him. “You told me you were free today. Come and hang out with me and Joon tonight.” You pleaded.

He shook his head and tilted his head up. He pressed his lips together. “Something came up. Besides, I should let you catch up with your best friend, Y/N.” He says and wiggles his wrist out of your hand.

“Woah, woah, man. We’re okay, right? What did I do?” You press him again.

“Don’t worry about it.” He turns around and walks off.

You tilted your head in confusion and felt as if your heart dropped. You didn’t like this feeling. You didn’t like him walking away from you like that. Your brain was telling you to reach out once again, run after him and hug him from behind but your feet stood planted on the ground like a fool not able to follow orders from its master. You couldn’t move as you wondered what was wrong with the special someone you can only call a friend.

The moment you stepped back in your place, you found Namjoon already waiting for you on the couch with his elbow propped up on the backrest of the sofa and his cheek leaning to his palm.

“So when were you gonna tell me about this Jimin that you’re in love with?” He teased.

“Shut up, Joon. I’m not fucking in love with him.” You say as you plopped down on the couch next to him.

“Please, Y/N. You’re so fucking whipped for that dude. You never even considered eating Hawaiian when we hang out even though it’s my favorite and you always get to choose the movie during our marathons.” He pointed it out and you realized he was right but you brushed it off like it was nothing.

“Whatever Joon, people’s tastes can change. Also, you have the worst choices in movies that’s why. Your boring ass would choose a fishing documentary over fucking Kingsman.”

He shrugs. “I’m just saying, Y/N. I’ve seen the way you looked at him. It’s something else.” He pushes once again.

Hours later, the dark filled in the day and the two of you were drinking the wine Joon brought.

And like he predicted, you caved.

“It’s just! How the fuck am I supposed to do this, Joon?! He’s so confusing! One minute, I think he does like me the way I like him, and the next, I feel like he’s gonna push me away in disgust bc I have a fucking coochie! I don’t know anymore, Joon.” You screamed and hit Joon’s lap with your hand repeatedly.

“God, can you not hit me for one second?” He says as he pushes your hand away. You pout and sulked alone on your part of the couch.

“Sorry.” You took a gulp of the cheap wine in your mug. A reminder to yourself that you should get some cheap wine glasses to go along with it next time.

“I’m a mess. Always have been.” You mumble the last part to yourself, but knowing the small apartment and the quiet atmosphere, you were sure Namjoon heard it.

“Hey,” Namjoon scooted closer to you. “You remember that time when we got into 7 minutes in heaven?” He asks you and puts an arm around your shoulder.

You groan. “Not the time to talk about our origin story, Joon.” He tch-ed.

“No, you don’t understand. That’s exactly what you need. A fucking talk. When we were in that silly party game, what did I ask you?” You pause to think.

“You asked me if I really liked girls?” You were unsure of your own words, but not because you don’t remember. It was because you were unsure where the conversation was going. He nods.

“So? Go fucking ask him.”

“You want me to ask him if he likes men?” You repeat him, asking if he's serious.

He nods again and pats your back. You laugh in disbelief. “No fucking way, dude. We’re in too fucking deep to talk about it, I think.”

Namjoon took a sip of his wine. “Are you sure? Or are you just scared of his answer?”

You pause your drinking midway. Obviously, Namjoon got to you.

You understood, though. This man beside you has known your secrets, your thoughts, just with the two years you spent with him. When you were at your peak confusion, he was there to be poured your feelings. He really is your best friend and you loved him because he was so kind and so understanding like this.

“Communication is always difficult, Y/N. We know that. That’s what happened to us, right? We talked things out well and we fixed things. Look at us now, we’re like freaking Batman and Robin.”

And you can’t help to think that he was right. Maybe it was time to talk things down.

“Obviously, I’m Batman.” You say and Namjoon rolled his eyes.

"That you are."

You texted Jimin to meet you at one party in a club next Friday. When you got there, the pink-haired boy was nowhere to be found. You spot one of your mutual friends and you walk over to her.

“Y/N! You fucking hot bitch. Look at you!” She screams as she takes in your look. You wore black cargo pants and a black bralette with a fishnet top over it. From her look, she looks absolutely wrecked already.

“Fuck, Jen. What did you take?” You ask her and she giggled.

“A magician…” She tumbles to your chest and you hold her up “…never tells her secret.”

Her head tilts back and you groan. “Have you seen Jimin?” You ask her.

She giggles again and brings her hands up to her hair and plays with it, tossing it. “Y/N. Fucking kiss me, please. I’m so horny right now. And you’re so hot. You go both ways right?” She brings her body closer to yours and grinds on it.

You sighed and ignored her pleas. “Jen, please. Have you seen Jimin?” You ask once again as you try to keep her feet planted on the ground.

She smiled. “Oh! Chimchim! That little gay man! He’s there with Kookie. I think they were like fucking each other on the dance floor earlier or something.” She points to the dance floor where you do spot the pink-haired boy dancing with an ebony-haired man. You try and ignore the names he called your friend.

Jungkook was a hot photography major. He had long permed hair that fit him well. His right arm had a sleeve tattoo, complimenting his lean but thick muscular body.

And just like that, your heart sunk again.

Jen continued to try and dance her hips to you while you stared at the boy just a few meters away. You looked at him with pain in your eyes. And like he sensed the pair of eyes watching him, his eyes met yours. It widens when he sees your face. So you looked away and brought your attention back to the wasted girl in front of you.

You brought out your phone and booked an Uber to bring the girl home. She was not safe in this atmosphere at all. Jen began to plant kisses on your cheek, which you really didn’t mind. She was usually a clingy girl. You worried that someone else might take it the wrong way.

As soon as you brought back Jen to her place, she slept like a log on her bed. The club was only 15 minutes away and you still wanted to go back to talk to Jimin. You hoped he was still there.

And he wasn’t.

Your heart sunk. Did he go home with Jungkook? Did he lay the boy you love on his bed? Did he kiss him and did he place his hands on that beautiful body of his? Did Jimin accept him? Did he not push his hand away and tell him to take it slow? Will he let himself be the small spoon in his arms tonight?

You drank yourself to waste in that club. Hiding in a corner with one of your friends who tried to talk to you but you shrugged them off and they let you drink by yourself and only watched you. When you felt like you had enough before you cannot physically go home, you bid them goodbye.

Before completely going home, you let yourself sober up alone. You sat on one of the swings in a park and let your thoughts consume you. It wasn’t until someone was nudging you awake that you realized that you dozed off. A man who looked to be in a security guard uniform told you you should go home because it’s late at night. You quickly said your sorry and stood up.'

You dreadily walked back to your apartment. It felt like when you get home, all you can think about is how he smelt on your bed. How he smiled against your hold under the sheets. How sometimes, he would face you and slip his head to your neck and you could feel how he breathes in sync with yours.

But what you find against your locked door isn’t something you expect to see.

There was the pink haired boy you love so much. Sitting on the ground and his face is buried on his knees.

“J-jimin?” You stuttered, not believing your eyes.

“What are you doing here?” He lifts his head and reveals his red and swollen eyes. Tears fell from his face. You fell to your knees in front of him at the sight of him crying. You hugged him tight.

“What the fuck happened? Did Jungkook do this to you?” You asked, anger seeping through you. How dare anyone make your angel cry?

He didn’t answer and it didn’t look like he would answer. So your next move was not to press further and make him rest. You guided him to your bed and lay him there. He stopped crying but never stopped staring at you as you readied yourself to bed. While you removed your make-up and changed your clothes to an oversized shirt and panties, he only stared at you.

“Y/N?”

He stared at you with glossy and tired eyes. His face was all fluffy and swollen from crying.

“Can you please hold me to sleep?”

And so you did.

When you wake up, Jimin is sitting on the edge of the bed, his back facing you. You sat up and he sensed your movement, turning back around. “Good morning.” You say and he gave you a smile so little you almost felt like you hallucinated it.

“Can you tell me what happened now?” You ask him. He shook his head. “It’s not Jungkook. Nothing happened.” He assures you and you furrow your brows together. “Then why?”

He didn’t answer. The silence weighed down on you. It felt like now or never.

You placed a hand on top of his that laid flat on the bed.

“Jimin.” He stared at the hand on top of his then back at your eyes.

“Do you want to date boys?”

You held your breath for a long, quiet moment while he thought of an answer. And when he finally opened his mouth, your heart was ready to fall to the ground.

“I haven’t met one that I’d like to date yet.” He answers you.

So he did like boys. You thought to yourself as you feel your hand unconsciously slip away on top of his.

But he caught it just before it made its way back to your side.

His eyes teared up again.

“And right now, I’m pretty in love with you, if that’s okay.”

He said and held your hand and kissed it.

You teared up as well at the confession. You smiled so wide and let the tears pour out like a waterfall.

Jimin buried his face in your hand that he was holding. “Please.”

He begs. “Please tell me you didn’t go home with Jen that night. Please don’t tell me the reason you came home so late was because you held her in your arms.”

And suddenly everything made sense.

He was crying at your door because of you. You cried for him for the same reason he cried for you. And you thought, How dumb we are, Jimin? What useless lovesick fools are you we?

You shake your head. “I am only ever in love with you, Jimin. You’re my angel.” And you brought his face up to yours and kissed him like the gift he is from heaven.

With Jimin, you did not crave the language you always thought you needed. With Jimin, just loving is okay. And it didn’t have to matter what anyone would say. Love is in its purest form when it’s with Jimin. He didn’t feel like the last puzzle piece that would complete you, the one you’ve been looking for your whole life to give you the answer. With Jimin, you didn’t feel like a big question mark. It felt like you’ve always been whole. And you are. Always have been.

And just like that, a hand reached backwards into a faraway dream and said, “come on then, we’ve got a maiden to save.”

You guess what you’re saying is that Jimin makes you feel like a boy, like the boy you’ve always been. At night, you climb trees and wear cargo shorts. You steal buildings and build fires. When you are awake, you are curled around his back, the happiest big spoon in the drawer. He is naked and heavy-breathing, the man you love.

You hold his body like the gift it is, and safely sink back into dreams.

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you.

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