[2] Expendable Hearts (Levi X F!Reader)

[2] Expendable Hearts (Levi x F!Reader)

Chapter 2: Wedding Invitations

WC: 8,654 Chapter Warnings: angst kinda ^^, reader and levi argue a lot Summary: 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.

story masterlist | prev chapter > next chapter

The corner of his lips twitched, almost forming a smirk but it drops back into a frown in a millisecond enough for you to almost believe you may have hallucinated it. 

“I have to kick you out,” he answered smoothly.

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his sneering gaze, and tried to wipe your dusted face with your free hand while asking. “Does Hange live here?”

He inhales, exasperated as he leans on the door frame. “Why the fuck would Hange live in my place? Is she homeless?” 

You close your eyes for a moment again, trying to calm your excessively beating heart, repeatedly reminding yourself to have patience and just get away from here as soon as possible.

If there is one thing Levi knows to do, it’s to rile you up. You didn’t think they fell in love at first sight, did you? No. You completely annoyed the hell out of him. When you entered the room, you flirted with him because you simply found it astonishing. His ears get so red when you call him cute or profess your crush on him in front of everyone. You, if not Hange, were often the receiver of his deadly glares.

“I don’t fucking know? Maybe she fucking told me she lives here,” you reply, waving your phone in from of his face. 

He stares at the device in your hands. A phone from a high-end brand. Vanessa gave it to you as a gift recently. It’s the latest model they had. 

“Well, would you look at that? It looks like you have a phone,” he states the obvious, blankly staring at it before your words sink into him, making his brows perk up in curiosity. “Hold on. Did you say Hange texted you?” 

You trailed off, tilting your head in confusion. “Uh… yeah?” 

Levi goes quiet, then turns to toss the box of powder somewhere inside. He leaves the door open and is quickly facing you again. If you were to be asked, you’d say that a look of hurt flashed on his face. But what do you know? You may not know who he is anymore. A lot can change in a year, much less seven years. 

It was beginning to be uncomfortable, the silence that suddenly loomed between the two of you. Deciding enough is enough, you cleared your throat to catch his attention. 

“You know what? Maybe she made a mistake. I’ll go. We can just say you kicked me out if you want,” you suggest the last sentence before letting out a painfully awkward fake laugh. You turn on your heels, ready to erase the look of his face in your brain. 

As you step forward, fingers wrap around your elbow and before you know it, you are being pulled back to where you stood earlier. You turn your head to Levi with wide eyes, stumbling and losing your balance until another hand catches your hips, steadying you in place. 

Your breath gets stuck in your throat when you realize how close your face is to his, mere inches away from each other. His hardened gaze falters, an unreadable one stares into your eyes. From this short distance, the musky and pine-like scent fills your nose—the same smell you used to wake up to every day. His breath smells like the tea he drinks. His face is sharper but they remain soft. Even at this age, his features still look younger than he actually is. Levi has always been beautiful even with a permanent scowl on his face.  

One of the fingers still wrapped around your waist twitches and the movement sent you to hypersensitivity. You become too sensitive to how his hand curls on your arm, how the other grips your waist, and how your faces are too close for comfort—it becomes suffocating for reasons you don’t want to disclose to yourself. 

You tug yourself free of his hold, turning around and facing him. With a glare, you spat out with furrowed brows. “What the fuck is your problem?” 

His response was immediate, knocking you out of your breath.

“Stay.”

One word. One word and your anger dissipates. 

If you had decided to tie your hair, you’re sure he’d see the tips of your ear redden. You breathe out a soft but confused response. “What?” 

He shifts his gaze to the side, avoiding your eyes. A mannerism he does when he’s shy. “You can come in. Hange’s supposed to come today.” 

“Oh.” You peek behind him where you see a glimpse of his personal space. He wants you to enter his home alone with him? What would you even talk about? You don’t doubt it’d be awkward. Wait. He lives alone, right? Not that you should care. But still, if he has a partner, it’d be weird to have your ex-girlfriend in your home. 

“It’s fine. I could just wait for Hange in the lobby.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he rolls his eyes. “Just come in.” 

“But—,” you try to protest again.

“Hange will drag you up here anyway. It’s a long way down.”

“It’s literally one elevator ride,” you point at the elevator behind you. 

Levi sighs, arms crossed in front of his chest again. This time, your eyes drift from the smooth pale skin of his forearms, his biceps, to the chest that they pressed onto, and you notice that his toned muscles are more defined than it was before. It’s not the first thing noticeable about him, but he always had a great physique. He takes care of his body well and is much stronger than he looks. You remember how he could easily tackle men twice his size, that man being your old friend, Erwin. Your gaze on him only passed for a second, careful not to let him notice your stare. 

“Fine. Suit yourself.” 

Nodding, you turn your back on him again, having already decided to reject his invitation to enter his home. You had even taken a few steps away and best believe you really would have gone to the lobby as you planned. You would’ve, really, if it wasn’t for you remembering the state of your face. 

Reluctantly, you spin on your heels. Facing him now with much more distance between you, you swallowed down the humiliation creeping into your face. He’s still standing there, straight-faced and watching you leave from his door frame.

“Levi.” 

Saying his name sent your head mildly spinning. It’s a name you were adamant about not thinking about, not seeing, and definitely not speaking. It’s been a long time of suppression that your brain has become hesitant to call for him that it comes out in a wavering voice. 

Let’s just leave that on the air for a second. His name. He’s here. In front of you. 

“What?” He presses when you hesitate to talk again. 

You sigh, shoulder slumping down in shame. “Do you have like… wet wipes or something?” 

Levi rolls his eyes and steps aside to give you some space for you to enter his home. 

“Just fucking come in.”

Knowing it’s probably the better option, you comply. It’s not like he’d murder you, right? At least, you think so. 

When you passed by him as you entered, you mumbled a quick word of gratitude. While he closed the door behind you, you took it upon yourself to remove your heels and put them on the shoe rack by the door without the need for him asking to. He still probably doesn’t appreciate outdoor shoes dirtying his floor. You still like it that way too. It’s just common etiquette, you both agreed to that before when it came up in a conversation. 

You notice he’s staring at your shoes on the rack in silence when you stand back up. Instantly, you ask if you made a mistake. “What is it? Are they not supposed to go there or something?” 

The question makes him look at you. He shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he muttered and bent down to pull open a drawer from the chest beside the shoe rack. 

He pulls out something from it, unwrapped it, and hands it to you. You look down, seeing new gray slide slippers. “Wear it.” 

With a nod, you let it land on the floor beneath you. Slipping your feet in, you find that the slippers are very comfortable. They surprisingly fit just right, well, maybe a little larger but it was fine. They don’t seem to be one of those disposable slippers you get at hotels. Is he more of a clean freak now than before that he gives his guests brand-new slippers to walk around when visiting him? 

His apartment is decent and obviously expensive. The grand living room greets you after the small hallway, illuminated by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows that give you a great view of Paradis’ bustling urban jungle. Also, you don’t know what he needs three different couches for. Wait, is that a freaking massage chair? Holy shit, you need that for your stupid back. How many months of salary from ODM would that be? 

“You can put your things on the couch or the coffee table right there,” Levi instructs. You ignore the inkling to ask and tease which couch he’s talking about and gently put down your bag and the box of invitations on the coffee table next to the two couches adjacent to each other. 

You can’t help but be curious about his current career and that he’s living such a luxurious life. Granted, Levi had always been living well. But nothing quite like this. The man you knew from your past preferred to not live lavishly. 

The interior had a theme of white, black, and brown—mostly white for what you guess is a clean look. True to his character, there was no speck of dust anywhere. Everything is kept neat and clean. It almost seemed like no one was living here. 

When you look back at Levi, he’s at the end of a corridor beside what you assume is the dining area, pointing at the first door  

“The bathroom’s here. Just wash your filthy face or whatever.”

You roll your eyes, mumbling to yourself how the filth on your face was his doing before giving him a tight-lipped fake smile and entering the door he pointed to. 

When you shut the door behind you, you slam your back on the door. You close your eyes and sigh in relief. Fuck. Finally, you’re alone and can’t be seen by the onyx-haired man. What the hell is happening? You’re fucked. He’s obviously mad at you. 

It’s been seven years. He couldn’t possibly be that mad, right? Sure. You’re exes. It’s natural to not be on good terms. It’s only right that the two of you act like mature adults, right? 

Opening your eyes when you feel a little more calm, you face the mirror. Oh, you looked horrible . You looked like a baker who had too much fun with her flour. Some got to your hair too. Fuck. That’s it. You’re going to kill him.

You washed your face until you were satisfied, a bit upset that your light makeup had to be removed. Admittedly, you were more concerned with the fact that you’re going to face Levi barefaced than the wasted effort you’ve put in for the simple look, no matter how small. Partly because come on, you’re exes. It’s basically a rule (and a somewhat toxic one at that, you admit) to appear better than you’ve seen your ex last to make them see that you’re better off without them. It’s not that you want him to want you again or regret how things ended up between the two of you. You just don’t want to look like you’re not doing well, even to Hange and the others. But more so to him. The darkening bags under your eyes resulted from having not slept enough in months because of handling your new living arrangements and adjusting to your new job. You haven’t been eating much either, often forgetting meals when you’re too busy. The way you look isn’t really on your priority list. It hasn’t been for a long time. 

There was a mild skin cleanser on the sink that you hoped he wouldn’t mind you using. Well, he shouldn’t. It’s his fault that you have to wash your face. The surprise reunion with Levi alone was enough to make you insecure in multiple ways. It didn’t have to be worsened by you catching cleaning supplies in the face. 

Instead of looking for a spare towel, you used toilet paper to dab your face dry. The moment you felt refreshed enough and figure you’ve taken long enough before your host thinks you're locking yourself in his bathroom to avoid him, you come out and find him sitting on the couch with two cups of tea. One beside your things and the other in his hand in the unique way he does so, fingers holding the rim instead of the handle and using the space between his thumb and index finger to drink. 

He glances at you when he hears the door open but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he stares back out his glass window. Unsure of what to do next, you decide to sit on the other couch in front of the other tea. 

Again, silence wraps around the two of you.

You rub your hands on your jeans, looking around the living room subtly. Not that you were particularly interested in his interior design, it’s just easier to avoid his face even if he’s just staring out the window quietly. It’s so obvious that he’s not even in deep thought. He’s waiting for you to speak first. He’s not gonna be the one to do it. He’s waiting to see how you’ll play this out. 

What the fuck do you talk to him about? The weather? His comfortable guest slippers? The impending doom of capitalism and technology? Honestly, anything but the past. 

You take a deep breath. Fine. Whatever. Here we go. 

“How have you—,” you were interrupted before you could even finish the question. 

“I doubt you actually care how I’m doing but I’m good.” He says as he puts down his teacup on the table. 

Stunned. Astonished. That’s what you are right now. All that and he still doesn’t spare you a glance. But you’re aware that he’s observing your every move. That’s okay. You can try again. Patience. Kindness. You can see this through by being a civil, respectful citizen. 

You cleared your throat.

“You look—,” he finishes the sentence for you this time, having guessed what you were about to say. 

“It looks like you’re about to tell me I look good, which is dumb. I don’t need you to tell me that.” 

You blink repeatedly. 

Wow. He is much more of an asshole now, isn’t he? 

You can practically feel your blood starting to boil. This is starting to be fucking ridiculous. When is Hange coming? Is she even coming? Maybe you should text her and ask her why you’re in front of Levi and not her. Or maybe just beg her to get to his apartment at full speed?

“You’re supposed to meet with Hange today, right?” 

He finally looks at you. You look at him. And then you nod, preferring to stay quiet. 

“Must be important if you went all the way here after seven years for Hange,” he gathered in a sarcastic tone. 

If he thinks that, then Hange or Moblit hasn’t told him that you’re back in Paradis even if you didn’t tell her not to. You wonder why that is. Maybe they haven’t had the time? Maybe he hasn’t had the time? Nonetheless, you don’t know how to correct him. But something is telling you that you should.  

You rub the back of your neck, head tilting, unsure of what to say but you agree. “Well… I guess?” 

The invitations are kind of important, aren’t they? They’re kind of late too. These have to be sent out after this weekend. 

“Tch,” he sassed at your unsure response. 

And then it was silent again. 

In the midst of it, you contemplate if and how you’re going to break the news that you’re in Paradis for work and not solely for meeting Hange. You doubt he even cared about your life update. 

Before you can decide in your thoughts, his deep voice breaks the silence. 

“So… you’re getting married.” He spread his knees apart to lean forward and rest his elbows on his knees. 

Your shoulders tense up. A look of puzzlement crosses your face, unsure if you heard his words correctly. You lean an ear in his direction lightly and raise your voice. “I’m getting what ?” 

He raises a brow and gives you a look of contempt as if you’re lying to him. When you continue to give him a bewildered look, he taps the box you brought to the table with four fingers. You look down at the box confused, searching for any clue that leads to his conclusion that you were apparently tying the knot. 

Oh.

You ordered it so it was addressed to you. 

The box had your name and a description of ‘Wedding Invitations ’ on it. Did Levi think that you were getting married and went all the way here to invite Hange? Your lips part as you nod to yourself, understanding the situation that apparently transpired. 

When you look at Levi, he’s still waiting for an answer. You sigh and rub your temples, explaining calmly and slowly. “Levi, those are Hange’s wedding invitations.” 

His brows furrow. Now, it’s his turn to be confused. But you don’t wait for him to ask and explain further. “I handled her wedding invitations as a favor when she texted me that there was a problem with it. I’m just bringing them here to deliver it.” 

He takes in every word and pauses to think, the information you gave him is not just adding up in his head. He still appears puzzled. “But why you ?” 

You shrug and answer quickly while lifting the teacup in front of you to your face. “I knew a way to handle it so I offered.” 

You take a sip. It’s green tea. It’s good. You wonder what brand it is but you’re definitely not gonna ask him. 

He nods but with a tightness to it, as if he’s holding back from saying something. Another follow question comes out from his lips, “And she knows this, how?” 

You understand where he's getting at. He’s easing you into telling him how the hell you’re in contact with his friend after so long. He’s probably curious as to how and when this friendship started and if Hange has been keeping this from him for a while. 

“We’ve been texting,” you admit while setting down the cup, seeing no point in denying the truth and acting like you’re going behind his back. 

His brows raised for a second, amused. Then, his face returns to his usual stoic ones, but this time with a darkened gaze. You guess that he probably feels somewhat betrayed that his friend kept this little information from him, not that she was entitled to tell him about who she reconnected with. Hange was your friend too so you don’t see what’s so wrong about that. 

You stared at his face pointedly and replied with a sharpened tone. “Don’t make that face. It’s barely been a week,” you add, not even waiting for him to ask ‘Since when? ’ because it’s written all over his face. 

He stays quiet and avoids your eyes, fixing his gaze to nothing particular by his side. You take this chance to add more to it. “We ran into each other while shopping and exchanged numbers. Is that all you want to know?” 

His jaw clenched. You could see his side profile so clearly with how he looked to the side. Your words make him realize something. “…you’re back in town?” 

You huff, infuriated that the thought of you being back in Paradis was appalling to him. “For almost a month now. For a job. It’s not permanent yet so don’t go cursing me around already.” 

“And here I thought you promised you’d stay far away from me,” he recalled tightly with a smirk on his face.

“Yeah. You’re all about keeping promises, aren’t you?” 

You look down at your black top that still holds a bit of evidence from his childish skit by the door. Your fingers pinch the loose fabric by your chest to see the neckline and collar better.

“I am,” he agrees sternly, meeting your eyes. 

You scoff, bringing your hands back down on your lap. He sits up and leans back on the couch, chin raised and legs crossed. He was taunting you. He wants to see you riled up. It’s not going to happen. Does he think that you can’t handle him? 

The only way you can win his game is to act like the calm and mature grown-up you are. In short, unbothered. It’s not like you did anything wrong except for cutting communication with everyone after graduation. It was what you thought to be the right thing to do. Of course, you feel bad that you hurt them. But if you had to go back in time, you’d do it again. 

With fists balling tight on your lap, you taunt back through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. “I didn’t expect you to be like this. How are you still holding a grudge after seven years?” 

“How are you still so shamelessly indifferent after seven years?” 

He spat every venomous word out and meant it, showing from the way his eyes aggressively sent daggers to your face. The words left a deep frown on his mouth, glaring at you relentlessly. 

The pent-up, irritated expression on your face falls down in an instant. Like an attack, those two words are trying to break their way into your carefully curated walls, making you harden up. 

Shamelessly indifferent. 

How are you still so shamelessly indifferent?  

With an impassive face, your soulless eyes bore into his icy ones. You set your lips into a straight line, giving away no expression he could read into. 

How are you still so shamelessly indifferent?  

His cold glare challenges your devoid expression. Like two hard walls parallel to each other, no one is seeing the other as they truly are unless one breaks down. 

How are you still so shamelessly indifferent?  

Neither of you will willingly let that happen. You won’t surrender your armor just yet when it has helped you last this long. You know your decisions would lead to this. To his hatred. You were fine with it. You were fine with being the protagonist of both your stories. There are much bigger things than that in this life that you were willing to trade anything for. 

How are you still so shamelessly indifferent?

If that’s the case… Why do you feel so freshly wounded? 

A door bursts open, startling the two of you. A loud boisterous voice pierces your ears, shouting your name. Your head whips in the direction of the way leading to the front door. You hear it close gently, then there were some thuds and sounds of shoes. From your peripheral, you see Levi slap a palm on his face with a groan. 

The footsteps come running in, revealing an excited but disheveled-looking Hange. As she spots you sitting on the couch, she lets out a piercing shriek and jumps up with wavering hands. Her energy is so intensely soaring that an affectionate smile spreads on your face instantly as a response and has greeted her with it. 

She runs to you across the floor in her socks and then tackles you into an enormous warm hug. You hear Levi sigh from his seat while he stares at the situation. You’re being squished again, Hange pressed to your side and hanging onto you like a koala. 

“Now, Hange. Please don’t hog her all to yourself.” 

Your ears perked up at the sound of the deep voice and whip your head in that direction. As you suspected, there’s a grinning tall, blonde, and handsome man standing not far from you. He’s in actual indoor slippers too unlike Hange who just threw off her shoes. 

Erwin was always the most, if not the only, mature among the four of you. He just had this aura that overpowers everyone when he walks into a room. Smart, confident, and a born leader. You always looked up to him when you were young. 

“Erwin,” you gaped as he strides towards you. 

Now standing beside you and Hange (who was still refusing to let you go), he reaches in and pats your head gently. “Hey, Greenie,” he greets you warmly, which you exchange with a genuine smile of delight. 

Erwin then proceeds to gently sit in the space beside you. All while smirking at his friend who sat alone on the couch across from the three of you. ”Levi, you look awfully upset,” he teased. 

“Hange, explain. Now.” Levi ignores his blonde friend’s attempt to mock him, focusing deadly on the brunette woman clinging to you. You feel Hange lightly shudder at his words. When you tap her arm, you look at her with pleading eyes, indicating you agree with Levi in wanting an explanation for this predicament you don’t doubt she planned. 

Pouting, Hange reluctantly releases you from her hold. She stares back at Levi who’s waiting but clearly without much patience. She looks at you who raised your brows, urging her to speak up. She huffs while facing forward again, arms crossed but her mouth quivering in excitement. 

“Pft,” she holds back a laugh.

“Hange,” Levi warns in spite. 

And then she bursts. 

“Okay, fine! I sent her your address instead of mine intentionally.” She throws her hands in the air enthusiastically, amusingly proud of herself. Then she turns to you sheepishly. “In my defense, I didn’t explicitly say it’s my address in the texts.” 

Your mouth drops. “What? Yes, you did.”

Hange shakes her head, thoroughly convinced. “No. You said ‘Hange, what’s your address? I’ll have a courier send the invitations to you.’ And then I said ‘No. Just come to this address after work on Saturday and personally give it to me.’ So technically, no, I didn’t. You just assumed it.” 

You stare at her, dumbfounded. Beside you, Erwin chuckles and Levi grumbles at her explanation. “Great. Here comes the Harvard graduate.”

After taking a deep breath, you calmly ask. “Okay… but why here?” A valid question, you feel. Why would Hange purposely send you to Levi’s home? Her friend’s ex-girlfriend? With both of you unaware?

Hange grins from ear to ear, wriggling like a worm on her seat. She can’t help herself but stand up to explain in exaggeration, walking back and forth with hand gestures. 

“Well my dearest friends, you see, when I saw Greenie for the first time after seven years, coincidentally before my wedding and the same day one of my planned bridesmaids called to tell me they can’t attend the wedding. I knew that it had to be fate. This was the gods aligning the universe for me and my wedding. Unfortunately, she rejected my invitation.” 

“Of course, she would, dipshit. Why would you practically invite a stranger to your wedding?” Levi sneers at you. You roll your eyes. Hange ignores the remark from Levi that was meant to insult you and claps her hand loudly to distract you from getting down into a glaring contest. 

“As I was saying, she refused my invitation. I was okay with that at first then my big brain was like… ‘It’s probably because of Levi!’ So I thought that we could all have a lovely day together to get over the dramatic reunion and see if we could all be civil before the wedding, you know?” Hange ends with hands on her waist. 

“That makes zero sense,” you whisper to yourself while shaking your head. 

“All of this is to get her to attend your shitty wedding?” Levi complains.

Hange nods enthusiastically, eyes flitting back and forth from Levi and then to you. “So? What’s our status? Do you guys still hate each other? Wanna kill each other?”

“I definitely want to kill someone. But it’s not her,” Levi’s face hardened, shooting daggers at Hange who didn't even bat an eye. 

“Walk it off, Levi. You didn’t answer my question,” Hange brushes his words of murderous attempt at her life. 

“I don’t know, Hange. He literally sprayed some window-cleaning solution on my face and threw baking soda on me earlier. Who knows? Maybe he’ll dunk my face on your wedding cake next,” you chime in. 

Erwin snorts. Hange gasps. Levi tilts his head back with closed eyes, sighing. Their immediate reaction to your words left a bewildered look on your face. 

“He actually did it?!” Hange dramatically slaps a hand over her mouth, gaping at Levi in disbelief. “No fucking way!”

“Wow, Levi. I guess all those practices were worth it, weren’t they?” Even Erwin taunts with an amused grin. Now that catches your attention. He had been practicing throwing you his cleaning supplies?  Why would he… unless…? 

You turned to the blonde man, perplexed. “He practiced it?” 

“No,” Levi is quick to deny, now sitting up straight. 

“Yes,” Hange and Erwin answer you at the same time.

Levi doesn’t speak without a sound of distaste leaving his mouth and sending daggers to his two friends. “Don’t flatter yourself. They ask me to do it.”

“Oh, yes we do. Especially when he’s had too much to drink.” Hange says as she finally sits back down beside you.

“Moblit purposefully gets him to a drinking contest just so he can do it,” Erwin says. 

“It ends with both of them getting awfully wasted. It’s really funny that the trouble of getting them home is almost worth it,” Hange whispers to you. 

“One time, at a party, he started throwing baking soda everywhere like he’s blessing the house with some sort of ritual,” Erwin reminisced and shook his head. 

Levi, obviously having enough of his friends’ betrayal and teasing, rolls his eyes and gets up from his seat to leave. “That’s it. I’m not hearing any of this shit.” He turns his back and starts to stride off to his spacious kitchen with his teacup in his hand while Hange snickers beside you, sharing looks of amusement with Erwin. 

You’re unaware of how to act. Should you act friendly to Hange and Erwin? Should you leave? You’re not sure of what’s really happening here. Maybe it’d be better if you just leave and apologetically reject Hange’s invite for the last time. Although you’re glad that the two had received you warmly despite how long it’s been and Levi, as annoying as he is, even offered you to freshen up in his home. 

How are you still so shamelessly indifferent?  

Maybe it’s better if you still keep your distance from them. You’re not implying you’ll ignore or jump to the next city again. It would be good for both you and Levi to not share the same friend group again. You should know your place. 

You place a hand on top of Hange’s that was on her lap, letting out a soft sigh before you speak. An apology is due to your old friends. It’s okay. You can do it. Just don’t cry. 

“Hange, I really appreciate the invite. Truly. But it’s more than the reason you think. It’s just been so long and I probably don’t know anyone there anymore, you know?” You started explaining with a smile and then moved your head to Erwin and continued.

“And I know that it wasn’t nice, disappearing all those years ago. I’m sorry if that upset you.” You squeeze Hange’s hand while looking at Erwin who now has abandoned his playful attitude just seconds ago. He was listening to you intently. It wasn’t like him to bare his emotions out in the open but unlike Levi’s form of being guarded. Erwin has just always just been like that, keeping his emotions controlled and regulated. And yet, you see a tinge of sadness in his eyes. You know you do owe them some kind of closure. And once you’ve given them that, you’ll be on your way and live your life in Paradis quietly just as you’ve been doing for the past seven years. This time, just a little bit closer to them. 

“But the three of you have still been so kind to me now despite that and how long it’s been. So thank you.” You made sure to include Levi knowing he’s listening somewhere in his kitchen. You turn your head to Hange who stayed quiet with her chin down, your hand still in each other’s. Her hand is rough, no doubt from her adventurous personality. Despite that, you appreciate the warmth of her hand. It reminded you of how that same warmth comforted you in the past when you needed it. 

“I do agree with Levi, though. It might be a bit weird if I attend your wedding out of nowhere. I’m glad that you want me back in your life. But attending and playing such an important role in your wedding might be too soon for me not to feel bad about it. Don’t worry about me, Hange. I want you to enjoy your day with Moblit,” you whisper the last two sentences to Hange who still hung her head down. 

“Ah…” Hange’s deep voice grovels, a tone she only uses when she’s serious. “I really thought that it would work.” 

You chuckle, placing your other hand on your intertwined ones. “If Levi was able to do what he apparently always wanted to do with me, then I’d say it went well. For him, at least.”

Hange finally lifts her face, looking defeated. It instantly makes you feel guilty having done that. 

“I appreciate you looking out for me. For Levi. But hey, we can still hang out. Erwin, you wanna have my number? Hange has it.”

Erwin nods, smiling genuinely. “I will take you up on that. I might need a lawyer. Who’s better than an attorney from ODM?” 

“Wait, you know where I work?” 

Erwin scoffs. “It’s me, Greenie. What do you think?” 

You let it go with a short laugh. It’s either Hange told him or his smartass somehow knows. Sometimes, you think Erwin should’ve pursued being a detective. Or the President, though that would be quite dangerous, you feel. 

“Oi.” 

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of Levi’s voice who stood on the threshold of the way to the kitchen. While his side leaning on the wall, he had his arms crossed, staring right into your eyes with the same exasperated expression painted on his face. Once he caught everyone’s attention, he spoke.

“Don’t be dramatic and just go to the wedding.” 

“But—“

“It’s just a wedding. You said it yourself. Nobody knows you. It should be easy to go and leave.” 

You pause, tilting your chin down to think for yourself. You do want to go but there’s something holding you back. Shame, maybe. 

“Unless you’re really uncomfortable with me, which should hardly be the case. Because for me, I really don’t care if you’re there or not. It’s your choice.” 

You look at Hange, whose eyes are now beginning to fill with hope but she silently awaits your answer. You look at Levi again, trying to decipher his words and actions. 

“You’re sure you’re okay with me being there?” You ask him. 

Levi sighs like he’s tired of the question. “I couldn’t care less, Greenie .” And then he turns around again, disappearing back to the kitchen. 

Hange doesn’t ask for an answer right away. Easy enough, one question from Erwin about how Hange's day got the atmosphere to shift into a lighter one, shifting from one conversation to another. When Hange was in the middle of babbling about her wedding preparations, Levi came out of the kitchen with a tray of snacks and drinks. 

They’re just fruit sandwiches and another batch of tea. Your mouth instantly waters, remembering the fact that all you had for lunch today was the pack of pocky sticks you had in your bag and a mango juice you bought in the office cafeteria. Both of which you ate in the car on the way home. Sue your laziness. 

“Thank you so much, househusband Levi!” Hange takes one of the sandwiches in an instance, munching on the soft bread filled with whipped cream and sliced strawberries. 

“Whatever. Don’t make a fucking mess.” He sits down and turns on the television for what you guess is background noise. He throws the remote to Erwin who swiftly catches it without a warning. 

While Erwin switches through different apps and channels with Levi’s eyes on the television, you take the opportunity to get a sandwich for yourself, carefully holding it between your fingers. While your other hand is under your mouth to avoid being messy, you take a bite and immediately fight to hold back to moan. How is this strawberry so good and sweet? 

You practically inhaled the sandwich right after. Though you don’t look at him, you swear that you saw a corner of Levi’s mouth twitch upwards. You’re not sure if that was because of you or the survival reality tv show that Erwin had settled on playing but decided to believe it’s the latter, not wanting to overthink whatever was that. 

The next few hours were tolerable enough. The topics, as thankful as you are, are never about you for long, it’s mostly Hange talking your ears off about her work. You told them what you just told Hange about your life. Those being where you work and what you do. You also told them you’d been in Trost for a while before being transferred here. Though nearing the end of your gathering, one conversation led to something you were trying to avoid, you know that it was just a matter of time before they had to know. 

Erwin, after offering to drive you home, asked you where you were staying, and when you told them where you didn’t miss their looks of disfavor. 

“That crappy apartment by The Underground?” Hange was the first to say something out of concern. 

You nod. You understand their disapproval, the place isn’t exactly the safest in the city. It isn’t like you couldn’t afford something better, you just didn’t want to commit to something permanent only to leave again. “Don’t give me that look, Hanj. It’s not that bad.” 

“Still, it’s not very safe for you and Marjorie.” Hange insists. You gave her a smile, and though you try not to make it seem sad, the thought of your grandmother still brings upon a tight pang in your chest no matter how long it’s been. 

“Marj… she’s not with me… anymore,” you tell them, looking down at the teacup in your hand and explaining in one word. “Leukemia.”

Everyone in the room immediately froze for a few seconds as they looked at you in shock which you hated. Hange’s hands flew to her mouth, stuttering an immediate apology. From your right, Erwin pats your shoulders in consolation. Levi is just staring at you, ever so unreadable. 

“It’s fine, uh… it’s been a while since she passed. Don’t worry about it,” you chuckle, a hard attempt to convince them. You weren’t lying, though. It’s really been a while for you to have a breakdown at the thought of it. “And The Underground is not that bad anymore. I’ll be safe.”

If this was seven years ago, you wouldn’t have even considered living in The Underground alone. It’s this neighborhood in Paradis that was infamous for sheltering delinquents, criminals, and runaways. It’s always been a part of the city that never agreed with the ideals of the local government because of its informal settlers who refused to leave. That is why it's often set on fire. Literally. There’s never any proof but it was common knowledge that it's done to make them leave. That is also why the lodging and apartments close to it are the cheapest in the city.

The landlord had done well in selling the one-bedroom apartment to you, not uttering a word about The Underground and only of how big of a catch it was because it’s the cheapest in the city and someone had just recently moved out of it. You knew better before entertaining a visit though, well aware of the consequences and why there were triple locks on the front door. In defense of your decision, the inside of the place wasn’t actually crap, the interior of the apartment is modern and surprisingly clean. There were secure locks on the windows too. It’s really just the outside of the building that is due for a repaint, littered with both vulgar and creative vandalism. You realized that the reason why it has such a run-down appearance was also to keep it safe. There’s hardly anyone that would want to rob what basically looks like it’s falling apart. 

To add to that, when you drove past The Underground, it was surprisingly not as chaotic and loud as it was before. You thought that maybe some new mayor actually had a functioning brain and realized that setting fire to the poor population doesn’t really fix anything. So what the hell, you took a bite of the risk and accepted the 6 months lease. 

“It is,” Erwin surprisingly agreed with you. “But nevertheless, you are a vulnerable woman living alone. I can help you look for some other cheaper apartment away from it if you want.” 

“Thank you, Win,” you genuinely say to him. “But I’ll be fine. It’s just for 6—actually, just 5 months left now. If I get permanent employment at ODM, it will come with an apartment as a benefit, actually.” 

“If you say so,” Erwin reluctantly agrees. “But the second you feel unsafe, text me. I would take care of things immediately.” 

“I don’t doubt you will,” you granted, thankful. You don’t feel particularly fearful of where you’re staying. You definitely lived in worse places without much choice. Physically wise, you can take care of yourself… you think. 

With a deep inhale, you hook your bag in your arm and get up from the couch. “Well, it’s getting a bit late. I should go.” 

“No! Don’t go yet,” Hange whined, pouting. 

“Are you sure we can’t convince you to stay for dinner?” Erwin stands up as well, ever the gentleman. You really don’t want to intrude or overstay. Besides, the owner of the house didn’t even invite you to stay. It’s easy for you to read the room. 

Shaking your head, you look up as you reply to the tall blonde man. “Nah. I gotta go take care of some things tonight, sorry. Next time?” you ask, particularly to everyone despite only conversing with Erwin. 

“Absolutely,” Erwin responds. You give him a smile. “Alright. Text me.” 

“Hange, I’ll text you my decision about the wedding very soon, okay? Thanks for today.” You say as you give Hange a hug to which she reciprocates lovingly.

“Ugh. I miss you already.” She sighs then leans into your ear. “Sorry about setting you up today,” she apologizes with a snicker. You pat her back in response. When she lets you go, she still has that big grin on her face.

You turn to Levi, giving him a nod out of courtesy. “Levi.”

He nods in return, gaze still heavy on you. He says your name back as a form of goodbye, still seated on the couch cross-legged as you stand in front of him, the low coffee table in between the two of you. 

“Thanks for the… tea and snack.” Though sincere, you didn’t mean for it to come out the opposite. 

“I’m sure you were,” Levi’s piercing eyes could cut through like a knife. You size him up in a similar regard. He was the attacker and you were the defender in this staring contest and you were the most competitive pair this game has seen, no one eager to back down. 

“Levi, why don’t you escort your guest to her car?” 

It was Erwin’s question that sliced through the tension, cutting their game short. 

Levi scoffs. “Do it yourself.”

”There’s no need for that, Win,” you say almost at the same time.

“Nonsense,” he addresses you and then the man on the couch. “Levi, don’t be a rude host.” Erwin glares at Levi. You almost smile at the interaction. Levi and Erwin had always been an odd pair. The blonde always had a way with the raven-haired boy, always pushing him to a certain extent but it was always for the better. It seems like that dynamic hasn’t changed at all. 

“Really, Erwin. I’m gonna be fine. I’ll text you when I get home,” you say lightheartedly as you’re already walking to the door to wear your shoes. 

Erwin and Hange followed you, watching as you slipped off the house slippers and wore your heels. You bid the pair one last goodbye before stepping out of the lavish apartment.

Sighing, you begrudgingly walk away from his door as you feel the tension leave you when you were no longer in the same room as them. It was a relief but god was that exhausting. 

You missed them though. It felt so… weird. They matured but never changed their personalities. It’s like if seven years ago, someone told you to picture how the trio would be, you would’ve pictured them as they are now. It’s funny, you think, how circumstances and situations can change everything about a person, how one heavy decision leads to a myriad of decisions too, how everything interconnects and falls apart. It’s all so funny. 

As you wait for the elevator to rise to Levi’s floor, you hear his door creak open, revealing Levi with a petulant face. You raised a brow but don’t utter a word. Erwin must have made him do it somehow. 

He silently waits beside you, letting him do whatever he has to in silence. The elevator dings open and you step inside immediately. You pressed the lobby level as Levi steps in. 

It was quiet, only the subtle elevator music fills what was supposed to be an empty silence. Levi doesn’t even look at you, just glaring hard at the closing doors of the elevator with crossed arms. You look at him, shoulders tensed but face unbothered. He obviously did not want to be here with the way his face is scrunched up and his foot was tapping aggressively. It’s not like you wanted him to be here either. You just want to get out of here as soon as possible and away from him. 

And of course, just like the heavens heard you, the elevator abruptly halts to a stop with a hard rattle, the lights flickering for two seconds before being stable again. You gasped a little in shock but you stay on your feet and maintained your balance, your hand gripping your bag for emotional support. 

Levi, however, immediately holds your arm in response. 

You look at him and his hand on you. His eyes were wide in worry and his hold was almost in a form of a tug before he stopped, your arm now raised mid-air. He didn’t look frightened, just cautious and agile. It was almost like it triggered his protective instinct. 

When he realized, he immediately lets go as if you were scalding. 

Sighing, you walk to the buttons and pressed the emergency button. When the light came on, you spoke into the microphone. “We’re stuck in the elevator with a direct line to the penthouse. Please send assistance.” 

Immediately, someone from maintenance or security replies back with an assurance that they’re on it. They proceeded to ask how many are there with you and if everyone is alright. The typical questions at emergencies like this. 

“We’re both fine. Your penthouse resident is pissed as hell, though.” 

“We apologize, ma’am and sir Levi. We will have this elevator going in no time. Don’t worry.” 

The emergency button’s light fades and you sigh, going back to the middle where you stood earlier.

“You don’t seem to be very startled,” Levi spoke up.

You look at him for a second, surprised he’s starting a conversation with you. You don’t have a problem with tight spaces and you’re confident that you won’t die even if you’re basically stuck in a tin can right now. This is a well-sought apartment complex and this is probably an expensive tin can. It won’t come crashing down soon. “Is there a reason I should be?” 

He clears his throat and then doesn’t say anything back. He’s back on ignoring you and cursing every corner of the room with his venomous glare. He’s back on his anxious foot tapping again, the sound of his shoes tapping is as annoying as the droplets of water hitting the sink. It’s annoying you more than the godawful elevator music. 

“God, can you stop that?” You spat, brows furrowed. 

“No,” he denied in an instant. 

You roll your eyes. “Piece of shit.” 

“Says you,” he mumbled, his foot tapping growing incessantly faster. You know he’s just trying to rile you up more.

“It blows my mind how you’re still this grumpy and insufferable. I assumed age would compensate for the lack of social skills.” You glare at him. “And what was that? You practiced throwing those cleaning supplies? That’s all you could think of to do or say to me after seven years?” 

“What about you?” 

“What about me?”

“That’s all you could say? Sorry? After what you’ve done?”

“What have I done, Levi? What have I done that was so wrong?” 

“God, you’re so conceited.” He rolls his eyes. “You can’t even make up an excuse for leaving. That’s why you ran like a coward. Now you’re back and all you had to say was ‘sorry’? And not even to me?” 

“Why? What else did you expect from me when I appeared at your door, Levi?” You spat with a venomous taunt. 

He was left speechless, you assume not knowing what to say or maybe holding back on something. You decided to continue, eyes fixed on the metal doors in front of you. 

“I thought about it—what I was going to say to you after all those years. But I know that I wouldn’t have been as bitter as you. It’s been seven years. We broke up before I even left. As a former friend, I was in the wrong for ghosting everyone. As an ex-girlfriend, I have no obligations to you.”

The elevator dinged and suddenly, the whirling sound of the machine was back, and only after a few seconds of silence did the doors open and you immediately stepped out, breathing in the air from the lobby. You were expecting Levi to follow you out but when you turned your head to look back at him, he was still inside the elevator, looking at you with a stare so cold that it will give anyone near frostbite. The corners of his mouth are pointing downwards into a frown directed at you and his arms are laying limply by his sides. 

Confused and heavily startled by his expression, you could only watch as the elevator doors closed with him still inside, eyes never leaving yours, and with a look on his face that mirrors the same one when you left him seven years ago. 

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

blipped: gone and back (2)

title: gone and back 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, brother!namjoon, bestfriend!taehyung warnings: none for this part disclaimer: you can read this without knowing anything marvel at all. word count: 3.6k

At the age of 21, you confessed your feelings to your brother’s best friend, Yoongi, which he rejected. One day later, Thanos snapped, turning fifty percent of the world population to dust, leaving the other half lost, confused, and mourning–including you. Five years later, Bruce Banner snapped everyone back to life, including Yoongi, who doesn’t really know you anymore.

a/n: i've decided to make blipped a series with shorter chapters instead of a two-part lmao. we are finally at the time skip!!

index part 1 > part 3

He wasn’t the type to ignore someone during disagreements. Yoongi was a firm believer in not running away from problems. In all honesty, he doesn't know why he did it. The moment he heard the door click, he knew it was you. And before he knew it, he was dropping his phone to his side and closing his eyes, pretending to be asleep. It’s a dumb idea, he thought. You would probably ask why was the television muted. Yoongi wasn’t the type to waste electricity and use the television for a dim light in the living room. 

When he hears your door shut, he sighs and slaps his forehead. “You dumb fuck.” He mutters to himself. He ponders on what to do when he actually can’t avoid you. And while thinking of you, he doesn’t realize that sleep was slowly taking him.

“Yah.” Namjoon nudges his arm, getting his attention. 

He turns his head to his friend who was wearing suit and tie attire for some reason. His hair was brushed up too. 

The lighting behind him wasn’t bright. It was dimmed yellow. Just like at hotels and restaurants. 

He looked down at his body and finds himself wearing something similar to his friends. 

“What’s up? Why are you spacing out?” Namjoon teases his friend. 

Yoongi’s brows furrow and he looks around, blurred faces all over. He was at some kind of event. They were guests and so is he. Flowers. There were flowers too. Round tables. People were laughing, dancing, and congratulating.

“Where are we?” He finally speaks. 

Then a few taps from a microphone are heard. He whips his head in that direction. There, on a platform, stands a man with a blurred face. He was wearing a tux. 

“Good evening, everyone.” The man starts. A few hoots here and there are heard after his greetings.

“I would like to thank everyone for coming tonight. Me and my love and now my wife, Y/N, are so grateful that you are here to celebrate this moment in our lives…” Whatever the man was saying, Yoongi had tuned out. Sat just behind him was you, the only recognizable face in the crowd. 

You were smiling, looking at the man speaking with tears in your eyes. Yoongi’s eyes were only on you. You were the only thing that felt real among the others. That, and the sinking feeling in his heart. It was like his worst fear coming true and he doesn’t even know it. 

Then your eyes meet. 

Your face forms into something like disappointment, but with soft eyes. Your mouth opens and you scream…

“Mom, mom! There’s a guy on the couch!”

A voice of a child shrieking pierces Yoongi’s ears and into his dreams, shaking him awake. He groans and opens his eyes slowly. “What the fuck?” He whispers. Who the fuck brought a child into the apartment? Certainly not you, you hated children. Namjoon? Maybe. But he was at work. Did his dream suddenly change scenarios or what?

The first thing he sees is the face of an adorable child. The boy’s eyes are wide, sparkling with stars and his smile lights up in glee. Yoongi’s eyes widen in concern but also in panic. “Who are you?” He asks, confused, raising his body on his forearms. 

“I’m Jumong! I am five years old!” He giggles. Yoongi’s eyes furrowed. “What are you doing here? Where’s Y/N?–” He looks at the leather he’s feeling on his arms. Leather? We don’t have a leather couch. He thinks. And when he looks around, the apartment is the same structure but a different interior. 

“W-where am I? I was just at my place–” He stutters. The last thing he remembers is that you just came home then he fell asleep on the couch. How did he travel to a different apartment? And who are these neighbors? He knew all the neighbors in the small building but he never saw this child before. Did he sleepwalk? Oh my god does he have amnesia? This is all Tony Stark’s fault. 

“Oh my god.” A woman in her apron walks in, staring at him in shock. “Who are you? Can you– where did you take me?” He pleads. The woman shakes her head and smiles. “I’m Jenny, and this is my son Jumong. You must be someone who has lived here before.” 

“Lived?” He asks. “Past tense?” 

“I’ll make you tea. This is gonna be a lot to take in.” 

The world was once again in chaos. 

You thought about this a lot of times in the past five years. You thought about the blip never happening. You thought about everybody miraculously going back to life. At first, it was a nice thought— a hopeful dream. Then it was just dreadful. Because you know that it would probably never happen. The Avengers have been quiet since then. You didn’t mind. You know they tried their best—or at least that’s what everybody believed. And to be honest, you never really liked them anyways. You don’t know them. You don’t know who they are, what they’ve done, what they have not done, and they’re human just like every one of us, maybe except that alien god. Still, it’s just that they were given more power than the rest of us. And just like every being on this planet and outside ours, they lose. 

On the day of the Blip, everybody lost somehow. The damage has been done and it stayed for five years, not five minutes, five days, or five months. It was years—half a decade. It left trauma that is not gonna be resolved the moment everyone materializes once again. You recall the countless stories and documentaries about the Blip. People didn’t just disappear—people died. Aside from half of the population, countless people died that day. From the pilotless planes and driverless cars that crashed, the patients in the hospital whose doctors or loved ones blipped leaving them alone and dying, the uncared-for abandoned children, the elderly who outlived their children, and so many more heartbreaking stories. Not only that, after all that destruction and devastation, the ones who were spared the sweet roulette of Thanos’ snap—they were the ones who were left to pick up the pieces. You know people who moved on and carried on with life. You know people who stayed there on that day, destroying themselves forever until eventually, they gave out—people who were barely scraping by. 

You know it all too well because one of them was you.

Endless scenarios have filled your mind about this moment. But In all honesty, you never thought of it going this way. You always thought it would be a happy reunion. You would run into their arms and cry. They would hug you and tell you everything would be alright. But right now? All you can think about is how you are trying to be happy and excited. Your head is aching at how much you’re forcing yourself to be happy. You are trying hard to make yourself want to run to Namjoon’s old office or maybe hope to see Yoongi in your old apartment so that you could finally see them.

But you can’t. 

You sat there, frozen and unmoving in your car seat. The vehicle was just parked outside of your old apartment building. Instead of happiness, fear is what consumes you. You don’t understand. And so you were angry. You mourned them. You accepted that they were never to come back to your life. You got by. You did it all by yourself. So why are they back now? 

Without thinking about your actions, you find yourself inserting your car key into the ignition once again. But before you turn the key, your eye catches a familiar mop of dark brown hair. The said owner of the hair is walking aimlessly on the sidewalk like he was lost. You felt your chest getting tighter and your vision blurrier. Heat rushes up to your face and wet tears were falling down your cheeks. 

He’s there. He’s there. He’s there. You kept repeating in your head. 

He looks just like the day he left for work in the morning. In his white button-down, black coat, and tie. He doesn’t have his bag—no, you took that with you when you came to the office yourself to see if he did disappear. It was the only thing his co-worker handed you when you asked, pity painted on his face. 

You won’t forget the look on the worker’s face. Everybody in that office knew that Namjoon was your only family. They looked at you like how you’ve been looked at your whole life but for the first time, it was actually true–you were alone and pitiful.

It all came crashing back to you—the pain you have felt all over the years; the feelings you tried so hard to push down and still trying to bury like a dead body in the middle of the night. It was getting heavier and heavier to breathe by the second. And you find yourself grasping the car door handle. Lips quivering and shaking your head, you try and calm yourself down.

He needs you, Y/N. They need you. 

And with one last final breath, you fix yourself and open the car door, finally stepping out of the vehicle. 

The wind felt crisp when it hit your skin. Namjoon was already near the main entrance, still looking lost. But this time, you see the worry in his eyes. You don’t shout his name. You don’t call his attention or make any sign that you were there. You didn’t really feel like exerting any energy talking. Instead, you slam your car door and sprint toward your brother. You didn't say a word but chose to wrap your arms around him and buried your face in his warm back. The only sound that can be heard is your muffled sob. 

The both of you stood like that for minutes, basking in each other’s warmth and comfort. From behind, you can hear Namjoon’s sniffles and the shakiness of his breathing. When he thinks the both of you finally had enough, his hands drifted to where your hands rested on his stomach and softly caressed them with his thumbs. Slowly, he releases himself from your hold and spun around to face you. 

His eyes were puffy from crying and the corners of his eyes crinkled when he finally gave you a soft smile. He takes a step back and looks at you from head to toe.

In your head, you wished you could hear his thoughts as he inspects you. Instead of the worn-out jackets you stole from his and Yoongi’s closet, you wore a business casual outfit that fits you well. The shoulder-length hair you maintained now reached below your chest and was colored with highlights. Everything about you looked mature now–better and wiser. That is, excluding your eyes… it was almost like you were tired and he couldn’t find the same light it used to shine.

“You’re all grown up.” He chuckles in between his sobs. 

“No one answered?” Jenny asked Yoongi as he handed her the cell phone she let him borrow. He shakes his head and gives her a small smile.

“Maybe I’ll head out and look for them.” He suggests to himself, thinking out loud. The woman nods.

“Well, It's a mess outside right now so you could always stay the night if you want. After all, yesterday this was your home. It’s the least I can do.”

Yoongi shakes his head. “No, no, that’s too much. I can’t just do that.”

Jenny sighs and picks up the empty cup of tea from the coffee table across the couch. “It’s fine, Yoongi. Maybe you can play with Mungie to return the favor. That little guy’s been lonely.”

“Thank you, Jenny. It means a lot.” 

The single mother in front of him nods and vanishes to the kitchen. Well, technically, she’s not a single mother. At least that wasn’t the plan before the blip. Jenny’s fiance was one of the victims of the blip. It all happened when she was pregnant. But now that they have all come back, Jenny definitely knows that he was out there now and she said she’ll be waiting for him to come home to his family. 

Yoongi taught about his family back in Daegu. Are they waiting for him? How about you? How about Namjoon? He wonders if the two of you disappeared too. He prayed that you two did. He couldn’t imagine either of you being alone or not having each other. It would definitely break one. He sighed and looked at the four-year-old kid playing with his toy car on the floor.

Just how much had he missed? 

His thoughts were interrupted when the doorbell rang. “Jenny?” He called out, standing to check who was at the door. “Were you expecting someone?” 

Jenny comes rushing out of the kitchen again. “I wasn’t! I’ll get the door though.” She says, tapping Yoongi on his chest and running to the door. Before Yoongi was even given the chance to react, Jenny has already unlocked the door.

“Oh.” He heard the amusement in Jenny’s voice. “Are you here for Yoongi?” She asks. Yoongi’s head whipped in the direction of the sound when he heard his name. He found his feet moving involuntarily. His steps stop when his body is directly visible from the doorway, just a few steps behind Jenny. She had opened the door wider with a grin on her face. 

There was Namjoon, in the same clothes he saw him leave in the morning. And then there was you. It was still you. Same pretty face, stance, longer hair, and pretty smile. 

It is still you, his Y/N… just five years older. 

If this was a dream, if it was some God’s way of punishing him for saying all those mean things and ignoring you the next day, then he pleads with God in a way that he had never before. He had learned his lesson, he thought. 

“Yoongi.” Namjoon was the first one to speak, immediately going in to wrap his arms around the shorter man. 

“Joon.” He breathes out in relief. It was a selfish thought, but he was also glad that he was still the same age as Namjoon.

When the two best friends let go of each other, you lunge for your chance to hug Yoongi. Your face was still puffy from the previous crying session with your brother and he noticed that. 

“Hey, Yoon.” It was a whisper to his ear, soft-spoken. Like bamboo swaying with the wind. Before he was even given the chance to place his hand on your back, you let go.

“You must be the new owner of the apartment.” You face the woman who was having an emotional moment, hands clasped together as she watched the three of you. She nods excitingly. “I am! I’m Jenny.” You smile and shake her hand. “I’m Y/N. This is my brother Namjoon. We were Yoongi’s roommates here before the blip.” 

Jumong, who Yoongi didn’t notice was already there as well, was tugging her mom’s sweatpants and hiding behind her back. 

“This is my son, Jumong.” Jenny takes her son’s hand and tugs him to her front. “Mongie, say hi.” 

Yoongi watched, wondering how you’ll interact with the child. His eyes widened a little when you dropped to your knees to keep your eye level the same as Jumong. “Hi, Mongie. I’m Y/N!” 

You raise your hand in front of him. “Will you give the older sis a high five?” Jumong giggles and slaps his small hand against yours. You laugh at his energy and boop his nose. “Well, aren’t you a cute little thing?” 

Since when were you good with kids? Have you known any kids? Do you have kids now? He suddenly remembers the dream he had earlier. Are you married? You can’t be, right? You were only 26. Life was just starting for you. Well, 26 is a nice age to get married for some people. Were you one of those people?

The thought made his gaze drift to your hands. A slight relief comes to him when he finds your fingers empty. Wait. Pause. Why did he care? Well, of course, it’s an important moment in your life. And it would be a shame if he missed it, right?

“Thank you so much for taking care of Yoongi. We take it, you have explained what happened already?” Joon shakes Jenny’s hand while she nods vigorously. “I did. He wouldn’t have believed me if I didn’t show him the news. Your guy has major trust issues.” She rolls her eyes and the three of you laugh. 

Joon shakes his head and Yoongi swears he almost saw him give him an odd look he can’t describe. “Yeah, he does.” 

The lights flicker open in the small apartment. “It’s a two-bedroom. I was wondering if you guys can share a room. Or maybe one person on the couch. Or I can be the one on the couch–” You say as the two men follow you into your small apartment. You scratch your head and toss your bag on the couch. “Sorry, it’s not much but it’s my home.” 

“I’ll take the couch,” Yoongi claims, sitting on the surprisingly comfortable cushion couch. It isn’t the same one the three of you had but it was similar. With that, he couldn’t help but compare the home you called yours to the home that he once shared with you. Your place was neat, it was undeniably a nice place for a single woman. Single–were you single? he pondered. In front of him was a flat-screen TV. The lack of plants makes sense because only Namjoon really was obsessed with taking care of them. No pictures hang on the wall unlike before when Namjoon would hang your high school and college graduation pictures. However, he noticed that on the drawer beneath where the TV is attached to the wall, the picture of the three of you still stands. 

Namjoon sits beside him. “You sure about that?”, he asks. Yoongi nods. “Yeah, man.” 

“Okay, that’s settled.” You nod to yourself. “I’ll just get ready and cook dinner. You guys make yourself at home.” You announce before heading to your room. 

“Yoongi…” He heard Namjoon mutter beside him. “This… this isn’t just some nightmare, right?” 

“I really hope it is, Joon.” 

When he heard you making sounds in the kitchen and Joon was busy watching the news, Yoongi decided to come and talk to you. You had your back to him, occupied with your cooking task. 

“Hey.” He greets. You shriek, jumping and placing a hand over your chest. When you realize it’s him, you sigh in relief. “Sorry, need some help?” Yoongi asked you. You shake your head. “Nah, I got this.” 

He looks over and realizes you were already done with preparing the ingredients and just put them in the pan. Yoongi nods. “I’ll set the table, then?” You smile at him. He noticed your eyes flash sadness for a second before you nod and turn away from him. “The plates are right there.” You pointed without looking at him. 

Yoongi walked towards you, just a few steps away from your back. 

“Y/N,” He speaks, only loud enough to hear you. You froze at his serious tone. “I-I don’t know if it matters now… but it was just yesterday for me. So, I’m sorry… for what I said that day.” 

Yoongi fiddled with his fingers while talking, nervous about how you’ll react. You don’t react for a moment, but when you do, you turn to face him. There was no anger, no sadness–not anything. You stared at him genuinely. 

“I forgive you.” You pressed your lips together to barely form a smile. Yoongi’s eyes widened for a second before his brows furrowed in confusion. “Just like that?” he asks. 

You shake your head and you give him a light punch on the shoulder. “It’s been five years, Yoongi. I’m not the same kid whose eyes sparkle over a crush.” You chuckle and turn back to the meal you were cooking. 

Yoongi watches your face for a moment, looking for any sign that you didn’t mean what you said. He didn’t know why he was hoping for that. But he wished you were lying. And when he fails, he presses his lips together and nods. “Okay.” 

The three of you eat silently. You have become really good at cooking, Yoongi thinks. Before, your cooking was saltier than the average. Now, it almost tastes like his cooking, which you always argued that you don’t like. 

“This is really good, Y/N. Who taught you to cook like this?” Namjoon compliments you. You roll your eyes while drinking water. You settle down the cup, hand still on it. 

“I’ve always cooked well.” You answer, dismissing the question nonchalantly. Yoongi scoffs and you send a questioning glare his way.

“What, Yoongi? I don’t?” You raise a brow. 

“Yeah, you don’t think so, Yoongs?” Your brother teases, egging you on.

Yoongi straightens his posture and places his elbows on the table. His fingers intertwine with each other. “I mean,” He smirks. “Not bad for five years.” 

And he swore he saw you blush for a second. It made him happy when you rolled your eyes, meaning he still gets under your skin. It made him think that maybe, he can still catch up with the five years he lost. 

© 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.

𓆩♡𓆪 want to be tagged to all my works or a specific one? 𓆩♡𓆪  : ̗̀➛ fill up this form here: taglist request form or send me an azk!

Dreaming Boy

Title: Dreaming Boy 

Pairing: Jimin x Reader 

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Heavily inspired from Sarah Kay’s poem “Dreaming Boy”, College AU, Feminine!Jimin

Word Count: 5788

Warnings: mature themes, gender confusion, shitty and judgy people, idk how to tag yet i’m sorry, Implied sex, fairly sfw

Description: Ever since you were old enough to have boobs, all the people around you already encaged you in a word 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 language for yourself. That is, until Jimin comes along and shows you words are just there to cage you.

A/N: My first fic here omg. I would like to make a disclaimer that if ever I wrote something in this that may seem offensive or uneducated, I’m deeply sorry and you can tell me about it. I know that gender and sexuality has many grey areas and as a person who honestly does not care about labels and norms, I am open to criticisms about this topic. 

Listen to Sarah Kay’s poem Dreaming Boy, here!

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 shape,  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 gossips 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 to be associated with the word just doesn’t seem right. And you wondered if you can dream yourself a gender. One that’s only yours. One that makes sense to you. 

Keep reading

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.

𓆩♡𓆪 want to be tagged to all my works or a specific one? 𓆩♡𓆪 : ̗̀➛ fill up this form here: taglist request form.

♡ 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)

AO3 LINK spotify playlist

If you want to be tagged in this work, kindly send an ask or reply here! If you want to be added to my permanent taglist, kindly answer this google form!

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

ೃ⁀➷ welcome to levisolace ! ♡

↠ 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 ! :(

↠ links ! ↳ masterlist ↳ ao3 account ↳ taglist request form ↳ i also own: @wolfvmin (bts)

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