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boymeetsweevil · 5 years

Text

MBD - 04

Grouping: Reader x Yoongi

Word Count: <8k

Summary: Three lessons to be learned: 1) don’t read the comments. Ever. 2) Baking will never let you down. 3) Don’t tease Yoongi.

Warnings/Themes: Angst?? Heavy doses of body image and related unhealthy behaviors, low self-esteem, cyberbullying? May be triggering for some. Some suggestive content. A jealous Yoongi.

part 0, part 1, part 2, part 3

A few more days pass through your break from work. Yoongi stayed with you the morning after coming back from the club to help you nurse your hangover, but he’d been in the dorms and studio since then. This left you with extra time on your hands.

In that time, you visited your best friend and your cousin who both lived deeper in the city, a mere hour’s ride from your apartment in the outskirts. You also got ahead on some work despite the fact that your boss gave you strict warnings about fully enjoying the break after seeing how hard you worked on the project for the quarter. But eventually you ran out work you could do and had nothing left but Netflix and the internet.

As it turns out, being alone with the internet ends up being a horrible set of circumstances. Curiosity and boredom get the best of you, and you find yourself breaking a cardinal rule.

You google Yoongi to see what pops up and get recent news about him being spotted with a lady friend. You know better, but optimism pulls you in and you’re opening up one of the articles. Apparently a fan that snuck into the VIP booth snapped a picture of you dancing with him at the club you went to a few days prior. Yoongi looks handsome with his bare face half obscured by his mask and a soft expression as he looks at you. But you let out a raspy gasp at your picture.

The only good thing about the photo is that your face is turned away from the camera, leaving your identity barely undiscovered. But your neck is coated with sweat, gleaming under the club lights. In the picture, the dance-move you’re doing is frozen, awkward and contorted, your body looks all wrong. With the powerful camera flash, you can see all the spots on your clothes where sweat had accumulated, all the spots where your amateur makeup skills failed. There’s no grace, no elegance, no dignity afforded to you in the photo. It’s not the first time you’ve seen of yourself in a random pap site or careless photos. But it’s by far the worst one you’ve seen.

Like a magnet is drawing you there, even though your stomach already feels like shards of ice are forming inside it, you break a second cardinal rule. You read the comments.

It’s amazing that she feels comfortable looking like that when there’s a literal GOD standing next to her. I could never do that. I wouldn’t even leave the house

Why is something like this allowed when there are much prettier girls to pick from?

I don’t think Yoongi would be stupid enough to date this girl, the picture probably just makes it look like they’re together when they’re obvi not

actually I think this is the same girl in that ##0524 photo. Look (image01) same hairstyle and earrings. I think she just turned into a blimp...

Guys plz be nice u don’t know this person. Maybe she has a really great personality

so? This is what she gets for trying too hard to cling to Yoongi

Yo it’s prolly cuz she’s rich. You see those leggings? I didn’t even think they made them in that size but they’re from that brand IU wears. And they’re like $250 :0

She wasn’t even that pretty before this but now I REALLY don’t get it. Yoongi~~ there are skinnier girls who would suit u better

Load 675 more...

You slam your laptop shut before fumbling for your phone. Breathing levelly, you’re the picture of eerie calm with the exception of the way your hands tremble. You pull up your text messages to text your best friend when you stop yourself. While the company knows that you’re dating, you’re not allowed to disclose any information about Yoongi or the relationship to any third parties. To the public he’s still single despite his dating clause having expired long before you even met. And there’s no way to explain what you’re going through to your friend without bringing up your secret boyfriend’s stardom.

So who can you turn to, you wonder. You can’t tell your friends. You can’t tell your mother either. As much as you love her, she’d spill the secret in minutes out of well-meaning pride. And there’s no way you can tell Yoongi.

Taking a deep breath in through your nose, you hold it for as long as you can before shoving a pillow over your face and screaming. All that’s left to show for the few minutes you spend screaming is the fact that you feel about 1% better and your now-hoarse voice. But the relief doesn’t last. The relief leaves room for heat to rise on your skin. Annoyance fills all your empty spaces. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and feel more anger.

Maybe you just aren’t working hard enough and people can just see that. Maybe you just aren’t being productive, you haven’t earned your spot yet. You hop off the bed and look around the room, almost frantic in your search for something to work on and actually improve.

Start with a deep clean, you tell yourself.

Two days later when Yoongi comes over, you’re still in the process of purging your tiny apartment.

“What’s all this,” he kicks gently at the garbage bags full of clothes littering the walkway to your bedroom. You jump at the sound of his voice, having forgotten that he mentioned coming over.

“I’m just doing some tidying up. I started with towel folding videos on YouTube and ended up realizing I have a hoarding problem.”

“I don’t think having dust bunnies under your bed counts as hoarding, but okay.” He searches for some space on your bed to sit in. The duvet’s surface is also covered in a mixture of old clothes and little knick knacks you’ve had since before you graduated college. “I didn’t realize you had so many clothes.”

You watch him pick up a spaghetti string top that you hadn’t gotten around to sorting yet. He gestures towards the two trash bags full of clothes on the floor.

“Put it in that one,” you point to the one furthest from the bed.

“Is this the donate pile?” He folds the shirt almost neatly and places it on the top of the other items with a sympathetic pat.

“Uh, no.”

“Then what is it? Looks like you already have everything you’re keeping,” he peers into your stocked closet.

“That’s actually the...inspiration pile,” you explain quietly.

“What?”

“It’s the stuff I'm gonna keep as motivation for me to lose weight.”

“Oh,” you’re surprised to see what looks like faint disappointment in Yoongi’s eyes as your words register. “I mean...makes sense.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I mean that’s one route you could take.”

“Is there another route?” You turn to face him fully from your spot on the ground with a confused smile. The shoes you were organizing lay unattended.

“Well, you could not lose the weight,” he shrugs.

You avert your gaze to the ceiling, as if the true meaning of his words will be scribed there. It sounds as though he’s suggesting you don’t try to get back down to where you were before the huge project your boss assigned you, but you figure that can’t be it.

“I just mean that you could donate these,” he points at the clothes in the inspiration pile. “Some of them look like they’re brand new—I’ve never even seen you in them. And you could just get some new clothes.”

“You mean like ones that fit me now?”

“Or like before.” He shrugs. “Your style was nice, I don’t know why you changed it.”

“It changed because nothing I had before fits now. So I have to wear this other stuff.” You’re talking about the shapeless sweaters and the monotonous greyscale pants.

“You don’t have to.”

He makes a valid point, but it’s a small one. Besides, there’s something else you’re digging for. “So you really think I should buy bigger clothes?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s so simple.

“Okay...but these clothes are supposed to be there to motivate me to lose the weight. If I just get a new wardrobe, that’ll mean the motivation is gone.”

“Okay,” he draws out the syllables while waiting to hear what your point is.

“That means I’ll stay like this.”

“What do you mean ‘like this’? What’s wrong with that?”

Your fists clench at your side as you think back to the photos of you in the club. And the comments from the netizens all saying roughly the same thing. With the puzzled way he stands there and looks at you, you feel another wave of frustration rise up. Did he really not see what was happening? Was he really going to make you say it?

“Hey,” he peers down at the veins rearing against the skin of your hands. “I mean it. What’s wrong?”

He gets up like the discussion is about to go somewhere but his phone ringing loudly with the little jingle reserved for one of his producer buddies stops the conversation in its tracks. You take this as a moment to shoo him out your place before your head explodes. Yoongi looks conflicted, he truly does. Still, he answers the call dutifully and gives a few affirmative words to assure that he is going to be at the studio soon and is ready to work. The call is short, but the mood is still tense like an angry, trapped breath.

“I have, like, 5 more minutes before I have to go—”

“You know what? Never mind. You’re clearly busy with studio stuff and I’m...busy too.”

With steely eyes, you take the clothes he was trying to help you with and add them to your own pile. He picks up the few things he brought with him in his brief visit and eyes you like he wants to say more. His gaze lingers over the sides of your face like a regretful touch and you turn to the side to shrug it off.

Another beep from his phone shatters the gossamer thin atmosphere further. He sighs and pulls his phone back out before hunching his shoulders.

“Can I use your laptop to check my email really quickly before I go? They just sent me a file and I can’t open it on my—”

“Yeah, yeah, just take it with you. I don’t need it,” you cut him off and wave a hand in the direction of your computer.

He looks almost upset when he gathers your laptop in his arms with the rest of his things, but doesn’t push the issue any further. The air is too tight for anything, even a genuine goodbye. Your throat is sore with oncoming angry tears and you just want him out.

The door shuts behind him softly, in place of the usual goodbye kiss. You wait until you know he’s gone let it all out.

*** Yoongi opens your laptop when he’s in the back of the car taking him to the studio. It takes him a minute to remember your password, but he logs on with minimal difficulty and the last thing you were looking at pops up obediently.

The rest of your break from work passes without a visit from Yoongi again. It’s not a coincidence. It’s because you turned your phone off for 48 hours and even after you turn it back on, you mute all other notifications and only look at it to check your work email and tell your friends that you’re ‘unplugging for a bit’.

In that time, you get all your clothes sorted. You burn through an entire fitness-based podcast series. You declutter your whole apartment. But there’s still an unpleasant buzzing under your skin that doesn’t go away. Even with the reintroduction of at-home cardio and the shady water fast you did that promised a lifted mood and a loss of 2 pounds.

Then you’re home from work one day, and you find yourself pacing all around the rooms of your place. You’re fed up with bottling things up, but you don’t know what to do with this knowledge. Yes, it’s nice to realize that everything you’d been chasing wasn’t worth the torture you put yourself through, but you can’t seem to get any further. So you try baking. And when that doesn’t put you at ease immediately, you break down and call Yoongi.

Yoongi picks up immediately. Part of you is surprised because he’s been working on new mixtape stuff and when that happens he’s usually unreachable. But another part of you isn’t surprised because, to him, you dropped off the face of the earth after a near-argument and he’s still technically on break from promotions for a little while longer. There’s no reason not to be answering the phone. In spite of all this, his tone is a tentative mix of concern and relief that has you blinking in confusion before curtly telling him you wanted to talk at your place.

He arrives in a defensive cocoon of layers and squared off features. Only one of the two he sheds at the coat rack by your front door before going to find you in the kitchen, just finishing shoving dozens of muffins into the oven.

“Hey,” he says after clearing his throat to make his presence known.

“Hey.” You turn around and remove the oven mitts you’re wearing. “We need to talk about some things.”

“I know,” he chuckles humorlessly. “I saw that shit on your computer.”

Your brow furrows in thought as you recall the last thing you used your laptop for. Recollection comes eventually. Briefly you wonder if Yoongi read past the top comments. If he gave into the urge to comb through every single one to satisfy morbid curiosity. You nod.

“It definitely has to do with that.”

“Fuck what those people are saying. You don’t need to change or to—to keep an inspiration pile.”

At that, you groan. Your fingers tap on the countertop impatiently. “Can you please stop saying stuff like that?”

“What? That you’re perfect the way you are?” He spits.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s not true.”

“Why wouldn’t it be true?”

Frustrated tears well up in the corners of your eyes because while you get that this isn’t an issue he’d ever have to worry about, part of you still don’t understand how he doesn’t get it. He’s trying so hard to be a good, romantic boyfriend that he doesn’t even see how much he misses. It’s supposed to be comforting, you’re sure, but it only infuriates you.

“Because I don’t fucking match you like this!”

He jumps at the sound of your raised voice, eyes wide. “Match me? What the hell?”

“You heard me,” you mumble.

“Yeah, I fucking heard you, but it still doesn’t make any sense. You’re not signed to some stupid contract, you’re not mandated to do anything with your body.”

“Haven’t I, though? I signed that fucking non-disclosure agreement after all. And I get a fucking angry call from your PR agents every time I show up in your pap photos, even though my face is never in them.” At this point you’re pacing again. This time it’s in tight circles in front of your fridge. “You said it yourself, you saw those awful comments. You saw how mad people get when I don’t show myself in just the right way. Those fans ripped me apart, Yoongi.” Your voice cracks and you curse yourself for being an angry crier. Crossing your arms around yourself, you try your best to beat back the tears.

“So you’re going to let a few fans tell you how to feel?”

“A few fans?” You’re close to laughter. “Try six hundred comments on one photo. Six hundred comments about the person who isn’t even the celebrity. And then multiply that by the number of times someone’s caught me at an unflattering angle or when I was bloating or when I started gaining weight back for real. Do the fucking math, Yoongi.”

That shuts him down instantly. Immediately worry replaces the incredulity. “I—how many times has this happened? Is this not the first time?”

You sigh at his ignorance. “No, but this is first time I was dumb enough to read the comments.”

“Why didn’t you say anything the first time something like this happened?” Yoongi’s face is full of distraught guilt. It’s hard for you to look at.

“What do you want me to say? Did you really want to hear me say all this stuff about some of your fans? These are people that love you. And you love them.”

“I love you, too. You know that,” he whispers, voice raw with emotion.

You can only sigh again because you do know. He does love you. He loves you perhaps too much. At this point, it seems like he’s so infatuated with you that he can’t fathom that people would have issues with you. But he’s also so in love with his career that you don’t have the heart to show him the things you’re facing. The dissonance would be too much to add to his already-full plate. And knowing Yoongi, he might do something stupid and get himself in trouble with his own fans. You’d hate to be the cause of something like that in his career.

The oven beeps and you use that as an excuse to escape the way his eyes shine as he contemplates just how much he wasn’t aware of until now.

He leans on the doorframe to watch you pull out the muffins from the oven and drop them unceremoniously onto the stovetop. The muffins are perfectly golden-brown and give off a warm, sweet scent that fills the kitchen quickly. You stand silent with your back to him, shoulders rising with the careful breaths you’re forcing yourself to take.

“Do you still love me,” his voice is small when it floats over to you.

“Ughh,” you claw at your face with your oven mitts. “Of course I do. I wouldn’t have asked you over if I didn’t. But...you have to understand that this is hard for me.”

“And what is ‘this’?

You turn and lean back against the counter, gesturing vaguely with a gloved hand. “This idol thing.” He tilts his head, not understanding. “I just mean that you have this amazing image because you’re out in the spotlight and I don’t want to sully that for you by...not looking like I should.”

“Why do you care about what other people think so much?”

“That’s so easy for you to say when people love you and you look like that. It’s different for regular people.” Your voice cracks once more as the shine lighting up your eyes breaks and runs down your cheeks. “It’s different because I’m already not deserving of you in their eyes. I can’t be regular and not look perfect.”

His hard demeanor softens at the sound of your sniffles and he comes to pull you into his chest, smoothing over your back. “Baby, there’s nothing wrong with the way you look.”

“I know that,” you sob. “I know that there’s nothing wrong with me, but you’ve seen what people say on those stupid forums. No amount of self-confidence could protect anyone from that shit.”

“Can I ask you something,” he says softly after a few aching moments of listening to you try to rein in your breathing.

“Y-yeah.”

“Who are the most important people in your life?”

“Huh?” You look up at him with watery lashes and he wonders how you could ever find fault with what you see in the mirror.

“Whose opinion matters to you most?”

“I don’t know,” you rub wet cheeks against the fabric of his top and think. “My boss since he pays me, obviously. And coworkers, I guess. My friends, definitely. My family, although they’re pretty easy to ignore.” He snorts. “A-and you,” you add on at the end hastily.

He gives you a sad smile when you look up at him. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“I mean...doesn’t how you feel matter? You just listed a bunch of other people.”

“Of course what I feel matters,” you say suddenly. You push back from him to clear your head. The tears have stopped flowing, though your cheeks are still wet. “I just can’t go through the world only ever hearing or caring about what I think. But I like myself, Yoongi.”

He nods seriously.

“Even if it doesn’t seem like it because I’m shy sometimes, or quiet. I like myself. But it still hurts to have people tell me they think I shouldn’t. I’m not the type of person who doesn’t react when people attempt to hurt me. That’s the part that hurts the most, I think. Knowing that it was their goal all along.”

“I get that. Or,” He purses his lips, “I think I do. I want to get it, anyway.”

You give him a weak smile because he’s cute, even in moments like this.

He squeezes your hand before bringing it to his lips. It’s not quite a kiss, just him brushing his lips against your skin while he talks. “But I still want to be there for you. And I hate that I could only guess when you were hurting.”

“I should have told you, but I was embarrassed.”

“Why would you be embarrassed?” He moves back to pull up a chair at your dining room table. His gaze is genuine and engaged as he looks to you for an answer.

“I’ve been dieting since the company approved us dating privately. This is the first time I’ve been...normal around you. I was worried you’d have this epiphany. That I’m not who you thought I was.”

“Do you remember the first night we met,” he asks all of the sudden.

“Yeah? You came to visit me at work and freaked my supervisor out. She still has that napkin you autographed.”

“That’s not the first night we met,” he shakes his head and chuckles. “We first met at my party. The one your cousin brought you to.”

“Oh, god. I hardly remember that, I was so drunk. I think I blocked it out.”

“You looked like this back then,” he smiles softly at you, memories of that night settling over the surroundings as they play out in front of him.

“Yeah, I know,” you nod softly, eyes averted.

“And you were so pretty that night too.” His gaze turns slightly salacious. “In that little shiny dress you wore—what ever happened to that?”

“You’re dumb,” you shove him with a simpering smile. He merely grins before pulling you slightly closer towards where he’s seated at the kitchen table.

“You still have it?”

“Oh my god, leave me alone.”

He leans into your space, making you duck your head to hide the way your cheeks flare up at his personal attention. Seeing you like this makes something coil in his belly. In due time, he thinks as he backs off. In due time, he’ll really give it to you. But in the meantime he behaves and doesn’t do anything more than intertwine your fingers together.

“I’m donating the clothes from the inspiration bag,” you mumble into his hair.

He pulls back and is careful to keep his face neutral. “Yeah?”

“I did a lot of thinking. And I realized that I don’t think I can say I really like myself if I keep forcing myself into this...mold.”

His brows furrow, lips pouting prettily as he focuses on following your train of thought. “So, what does that mean now?”

“So, this is me. For a long time probably, unless something major happens. I’m telling you so it can sink in. This is your out.”

“Okay,” he stands up from his chair slowly. Large, warm hands come to cup your face tenderly. “And this is me telling you I don’t want an out.”

“Okay,” you breathe out a sigh of relief so deep you don’t know where it came from.

“Glad that much is worked out,” he says before planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. “Hey.”

“What?”

“Can I have a muffin?”

You roll your eyes but go and get a plate from the cabinet. He watches you carefully as you hesitate at the oven before gingerly putting two muffins on the plate. When you return to the table, you mumble something about just wanting to see if they came out good and he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he takes a bite of one of your rare instances of culinary genius. He lets out a moan that makes your eyes widen and you take a bite before nodding to yourself.

“Just open a bakery already,” he says with a semi-full mouth and reaches out with grabby hands until you get the message to leave your chair. He pulls you into his lap and you try not to feel too self-conscious as you settle your thighs on top of his own. His hand lands on top of your lap casually, large hands splaying out on top to squeeze affectionately at the softness he finds there.

You worry you’re cutting off the blood supply to his legs but he sits happily with you in his lap and even kicks a little rhythm out while finishing his muffin. You get up and he snags the untouched part of your muffin before pulling his phone out of his pocket.

There’s a stream of messages in the group chat asking about his whereabouts and what he wants to do tonight. He answers that he’s with you and the other members all complain about how long it’s been since you visited them. Jungkook even tells Yoongi to bring you over to his place since they’re having a small kickback with just themselves and your post-break workload is still light. He purses his lips and asks for a raincheck, not wanting to push you into being on just yet.

***

A few days pass and the messages get more and more annoying as the other members whine about not having seen neither Yoongi nor you in far too long. So during one of the last days of their break, while he’s trying to dictate a cookie recipe to you, he breaks down at the 13th ping from his phone in a short period.

“Do you want to come hang out with me and the guys tonight?”

Normally if you’re invited over, you jump at the chance because you love getting out of your apartment and you like seeing Yoongi in his element with the people he’s closest to. But you don’t jump on the invitation now because it’s been so long since you last saw the guys and you know that you looked different then.

“I don’t know,” you fold toasted almonds into the cookie dough.

“Why not?”

“You know why,” you sigh. “And as nice as they are, I don’t really want to deal with the ‘did you do something with your hair’ or ‘wow you look so different’ comments.”

“They’re not gonna say that, they’re not total assholes. Look, if anyone says or does anything stupid, I’ll rip them a new one and take you back here.”

You purse your lips while you think it over. “And then will you stay the night?”

“If something stupid happens, I’ll cancel my studio appointment and stay over,” he smiles at you, eyes crinkling. “I’ll tell them we’re on our way now.”

“I can’t leave now,” your hands flutter up as you go from 0 to 60. “I’m a mess, I need to—”

“It’s just the guys. There’s literally no one there worth impressing. I would know.”

“Fine,” you groan. “Just let me change. I’m covered in flour.”

In your room, you find yourself unsure of what to put on. You no longer have any of the clothes you used to wear when you needed to feel like you objectively looked good. But you do have the gorgeous leggings Yoongi gifted you. You switch out your current shirt for a cleaner one and slip on a pair you’ve become obsessed with.

Yoongi punches in the code to the front door of Jungkook’s apartment while you hold the tin of cookies you made. Your fingers slip against the container due to having grown a bit clammy on the ride over. It took a heinous amount of time to wrap them in a way that would keep them warm all during the ride across the city. And now you’re nervous despite the fact that Yoongi sensed it in the car and hurled reassurance after reassurance at you.

But when Namjoon pulls the door open and greets both of you with a smile and a hug and no weird looks, you let out a tiny sigh of relief.

The guys crowd around you after Yoongi announces that you baked. Hoseok mumbles to himself about Yoongi hiding you purposefully so he could hoard your baking and takes two cookies for good measure. Jungkook says thank you politely before splitting one with Jimin. Taehyung takes two for himself and Namjoon and tells you ‘welcome back’. While the rest of the members snack, you count off the remaining sweets in the container and realize you didn’t give any to Jin.

The oldest member is standing in the hallway, drinking from a glass of water and scrolling through his phone when you find him. He must not have gotten the memo that you arrived, so you make your presence known by softly clearing your throat.

“Long time no see,” you smile at Jin.

He peers at you over the rim of his glass for a few long beats and you work to keep your smile natural. You can’t help but worry that he’s looking at the way you’ve has changed since he last saw you, chiseling away at the outside to see the familiar you he knows underneath.

“I guess it has been,” he finally says when he drains his glass. He leans back to rest his back on the wall. “Whatcha got there?”

“Oh, um, they’re just some cookies I made today. Yoongi had been bugging me about making them and I gave some to the others. I just thought I’d see if you wanted any.”

“I’ve always liked your baking.” He reaches out and plucks a cookie from the tin. A second later half of the cookie is gone. He chews thoughtfully.

“This is a new recipe, so I don’t know if it’s as good as it could be. I haven’t had much time for experimenting in the kitchen with work up until now so they might be—”

“I can only imagine how good they were when they first came out of the oven,” he finishes the rest and cuts your rambling off.

You stand there, oddly nervous, while he chews. When he finishes, he watches you fiddle with the lid so the cookies don’t get stale.

“Something’s changed about you,” Jin says finally, his eyes moving from your hair to your toes. You nearly drop the tin in your fumbling, and cringe from both the comment and your clumsiness.

“Yeah, I... gained some weight recently,” you blurt out in the hopes that it’ll be less uncomfortable if you’re the one to say it. But it’s not.

“Hmm,” Jin’s eyes rove over you more thoroughly, making you stand ramrod straight. “I don’t think that’s it. It’s something else, I think.”

“Oh. Well I don’t know, then.”

“What’s going on,” Yoongi’s voice creeps into the mix.

When you turn your head, you’re greeted with the sight of Yoongi in the doorway. He looks comfortably settled against the doorframe, like he’s been there for a while. His gaze isn’t directed at you, but at Jin, you realize. A quick glance back shows that they’re both looking at one another.

“Nothing. We were just talking.” Jin shrugs before walking over to you. A hand on the small of your back brings you with him and up to Yoongi.

Yoongi fixes Jin with a narrowed stare. “The guys were wondering where you both were. They want to play a game together.”

“We were here. No need to worry about us.”

“Well, why don’t you go in and tell them that? I’m gonna speak with my girlfriend.”

Jin gives him an amused smile before giving you a two-fingered captain’s salute and heading to the living room. It might have seemed dorky if anyone had done it, but you marvel over how cool he makes the gesture look. Yoongi turns to you then and takes in your distant expression.

“He didn’t say or do anything to make you uncomfortable, did he? Jin sometimes is a total asshole.”

“No, he—well, he said I looked different.”

“Do you want me to beat him up,” he steps forward to rest his hands on your shoulders. “Because I can, just say the word.”

“It’s really okay. He said it wasn’t just the weight. That it was something else.”

Yoongi’s lips thin as he tries to look for some other message in your words. “I don’t know what the hell that means.”

“It probably didn’t mean anything bad. Just let it go.”

Yoongi nods but takes both your hands in his to kiss them. You lead the way to the living room, feeling a little more like you can handle the night. There’s not much space with all seven members and you. You end up seated away from Yoongi, on the couch between Jungkook and Jin.

Somehow you get roped into playing some Mario game with two teams. You don’t know anything about video games, but you listen to Jungkook’s instructions carefully when you get one of the controllers because he’s one of your teammates. You’re not very good, though. Jin, your team captain, eventually has to maneuver his hands over yours so your character does the right thing.

“You sure you didn’t change your makeup style or something,” Jin asks during one of the rounds where you’re supposed to be playing against Hoseok.

The question takes you by surprise and you turn toward the sound of his voice only to realize just how close he is when he’s acting as a gaming coach of sorts.

“Uh, no. Why?”

“Dunno,” he doesn’t look at you while he converses with you. He’s watching the screen with a hawk-like focus. “You just look prettier than I remember.”

You stutter around nothing, not sure what to say. In the end you settle for saying nothing, though you do spare Yoongi a glance. His gaze must have already been directed at you because you make eye contact immediately. Knowing that he’s probably just making sure you’re having an okay time, you give him a thumbs up and attempt to make Kirby spin on the large screen in front of you.

The night stays that same level of odd. No one else does anything out of the ordinary, barring Jin. He’s strangely attentive even after you get the hang of playing enough to take full control of the controller. After that point, he still slings an arm across the back of the couch, which makes full contact with your shoulders because of how tightly packed you all are on the couch. And when he wants your attention, he makes a habit of brushing his hand down your arm and sometimes leaving it there.

You figure you just don’t spend enough time with Jin to get used to him. But you’ve seen enough interactions between him and the younger members to know how touchy-feely they are with each other. Maybe you’re just enough of an extension of Yoongi to be included in that touching. So you try your hardest not to question it. It’s just nice to know you've been accepted that much and you start to lean into the touch like you would with your own friends.

Soon enough you’re taking part in the high fives that melt into hand holding when you score a goal.

‘Quite a feat for a beginner’, Jin tells you.

Yoongi watches from across the room as your face lights up once again from Jin’s praise. You look like you’re having wholesome fun and the urge to interrupt that is what kills him. But what kills him more is the way Jin’s thumb strokes gently against the curve of your flank as he gestures to something on the screen while Jungkook takes a turn with the controller.

He didn’t think he was the jealous type, but when Taehyung orders pizza one painful hour later, Yoongi’s come to the realization that he’s much more selfish than he knew. Jin whines until you let him feed you a bite of the pepperoni pizza on his plate, knowing you’re too nice to say no. You think this is run of the mill behavior, but even Jimin raises his eyebrows at the display before peering at Yoongi’s furious profile.

The last straw, though, is when Jin wipes a trickle of grease from the corner of your mouth and waits until you’ve turned your head to say something to Jungkook before sucking the residue off. At that, Yoongi stands up abruptly, nearly toppling over the empty box that was near his knees.

“It’s getting late,” he answers the curious stares watching him trudge over to you. “We should head out now if we still want to get back to your place at a decent hour.”

“Oh,” your eyes are wide, “You don’t have to. I know you wanted to do your thing in the studio tomorrow. I should be fine on my own,” you hint back to the promise he made to stay over if the night was a bust.

“I changed my plans already, so I’ll go later in the week. Come on, let’s call a car and go.”

“I can drive you guys. I brought my car,” Jin offers suddenly. His arm is back to resting behind your shoulders. And because his fingers are close enough to graze your shoulder, they do.

“You really don’t have to,” Yoongi bites out. His stare is potent with silent accusation.

“Yoongi, why not? Jin’s place is across the bridge from mine. It actually makes some sense, and I was getting kinda tired. If we wait for a car, I might not be able to get up early enough to go to that brunch spot you mentioned.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Jin claps his hands with finality and gets up from the couch before extending his hand out to you. Much to Yoongi’s chagrin, you take his hand like it’s a genuine gesture of chivalry.

Jin somehow manages to get you to sit up in the passenger’s seat with him, leaving Yoongi to fume in the backseat. Occasionally Jin’s eyes will meet his in the rear view mirror and they’ll crinkle with impish amusement before returning to caressing your silhouette.

“So,” Jin says once he gets on the freeway. “Is our Yoongi treating you good?”

You laugh because you don’t see the game at play. “Of course he is. He’s the best boyfriend I could have asked for.” Yoongi’s resolve softens momentarily at your sincere tone. “I love him, even when he gets weird like tonight.” That comment has Jin cackling.

“You know,” he says once his laughter dwindles down, “I actually had the flu the day of Yoongi’s party. The day you guys met.”

“That explains why I didn’t actually see you there. I remember everyone else being there, though.” You gaze wistfully out the window. “I was too shy to talk to any of you guys then.”

“That’s okay. If I had been there, I would have talked to you.”

“That would have been a fun night, I bet.”

“Yeah,” he makes sure Yoongi’s looking in the rearview mirror. “Who knows how close we’d be today if I hadn’t gotten sick.”

Yoongi’s cheek nearly bleeds with force of his teeth gnawing on the inside. If he could, he’d reach forward and throttle Jin. But he’s driving so that’s not an option.

The torture doesn’t last much longer because about 10 minutes later you’re directing Jin to the parking garage of your apartment complex. The goodbyes are annoyingly drawn out and Jin manages to invite himself to brunch the next morning. All the while, Yoongi stands behind you, dying to get inside and away from the eldest member.

Finally, the door gets slammed shut before Jin can say something stupid about seeing you both tomorrow. Yoongi gives the door a smug look and then turns to catch a flash of your eyebrows raised in amusement. His eyes narrow and he approaches you slowly as you shrug off your layers in an almost too mundane way.

“What’s so funny,” he drawls. He attempts to peer at your face only for you to keep whipping it away every time he gets too close.

“Nothing,” you turn and give him your back while you smooth over your already made bed. “It’s just interesting watching you with Jin. I never really get to see you guys together.”

“What’s interesting about it?”

Yoongi starts unbuttoning his own outer layers with painstaking care, giving you ample time to twitch under the weight of his gaze. You fight to keep a smile from sneaking onto your face, but it’s too hard and you let your lips turn up in a little grin. He can’t see it, but he can hear it in your voice.

“You’re just cute when you’re mad.”

A muscle in Yoongi’s jaw jumps.

“You noticed that I was mad, huh?” He shirks off his jacket roughly, sulking in his subtle way. Luckily—or perhaps not luckily—you’ve come to recognize it well.

“I did.” Your voice is high and steady as you remove your sweater, leaving you in a soft and worn t-shirt. “I’ll admit it was entertaining. A little bit.”

“Is that so?” He hums.

“I mean, I don't know what you were mad about. But I could tell it wasn’t about something serious.”

He merely nods and watches you fidget. You peer at him through the side of your eye and see him meticulously undoing the clasp of his watch. From the way he moves slowly through the process of undressing for bed, you can tell something’s coming.

“Let me ask you something, then.”

“O-okay.”

“Is Jin still your favorite?”

“Are you kidding?”

You have to stop hunting for pajamas at your dresser and turn to him to see if he’s in fact kidding. But he looks dangerously serious, and you have to fight to keep your eyes from rolling.

“That’s what this is about? All this sulky Yoongi is because of that?”

“Just answer the question,” he shrugs his shoulders lightly.

Supposedly he’s calm and collected and not jealous, but his eyes are sharp as they zero in on you. Easily, he pushes himself off the wall he was leaning on. The steps he takes toward you are measured and slow. You still find yourself holding your breath as he comes to sit benignly on the bed across from you. It’s something he does sometimes when you’re getting dressed or undressed. Because ‘he likes the view’, he usually says. But tonight it makes you grab the first thing that you find out of your pajama drawer so you’re not leaving your back vulnerable.

“Of course he’s not my favorite anymore. I haven’t felt that way since before we got together.”

“I was just wondering.”

“Yoongi,” you sigh and pull the old t-shirt off to replace it with a sleep shirt. “When you asked me who my favorite was half a year ago I didn’t realize you were flirting with me. And I didn’t really know much about the group either.”

He nods like he thinks what you’ve said is completely reasonable and you stuff your legs through some of your yoga pants roughly. When you finish, you’re still standing defensively on the other side of the room. He looks up at you and beckons you over without a word. You feel compelled to move forward. Unsure of what would happen if you didn’t humor him.

When you’re finally approaching the V of his parted legs, he motions for you to sit next to him on the bed. You do.

“You know,” he begins slowly, “You looked like you were having a great time tonight.”

“Oh,” you blink. “Yeah, I was having fun. Even though it took a while for me to win a round. And even then I think Hoseok might have let me win.”

“Was Jin a good teacher?”

“Yeah, he was a good teacher.”

“I bet he was. He had a good student. He looked like he was enjoying himself.”

“Maybe,” you tap your finger on your chin pensively. “It didn’t seem like he hated having to show me how to play.”

“No, trust me, he was enjoying it.” Yoongi’s tone dips audibly, and you stop yourself when you realize what he’s implying.

“God, Yoongi, stop it. It wasn’t like that. He was just being nice.”

“I’ve known Jin a long time. I know what he looks like when he’s flirting. It started as soon as you walked through the door.”

“That’s crazy,” you mumble. But then you think of all the lingering touches and glances again and it clicks. “He...he was probably just trying to rile you up. Jin likes to mess with people sometimes. You’re always saying that.”

Yoongi pins you with an odd look. It’s partly amused, partly pitying. Then it turns cold. “You know, Jin’s been sweet on you since I first introduced you. The first night you met, he told me he used to date someone who looked a bit like you when he was younger, before debuting.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper again.

“You really didn’t know?” Yoongi leans in so the words practically brush against the skin of your cheek. “He was shoving himself all over you the whole night and you didn’t notice?”

You shake your head, at a loss for words. His hand finds its way to your opposite arm, pulling you closer to him.

“Hmm,” he hums in acknowledgment.

Then Yoongi’s lips are pressing gently to the skin of your neck. There’s a hint of something in the kisses that makes them feel a bit too heated to be chaste. At first you think it’s gratitude, but when you turn your head to meet his lips with your own, it’s clear that it’s not just that. His tongue snakes in between your lips, and you let it happen as you turn the evening’s events over in your memory.

“Yoongi,” you whisper between kisses.

“Hmm?” His large hands are splayed low over the swell of your back, a pinky finger just barely dipping under the waistband of your pants.

“I think I did know.”

“Huh?”

“I think as soon as he said that thing in the car—about being in your place—I knew he wasn’t just being friendly anymore.”

“Yeah?” he mumbles against your lips.

Taking you by surprise, he pushes deeper into your mouth until he’s stealing your breath. His lips are plush but insistent. And you’re conflicted. But suddenly he’s pulling away with a damp mouth and a firm grasp on your hip.

“You knew and made me sit through all that and then invited him to brunch in front of me?” He nips at your lax mouth. “That’s not very nice.”

“I know,” you sigh.

“Don’t you think you should be punished, then?” When you pull away looking like he’s grown a second head, he shrugs mildly and like he didn’t just threaten to take you over his knee. “Or not. Your choice.”

#bangtan bookclub #networkbangtan #yoonginetwork #hyunglinenetwork #btswriters #yoongi imagines #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic #bangtan scenarios #bangtan imagines #bangtan fanfic #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic

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lilixloveswriting · 4 years

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Shell

Whumptober 2020 Day 19 (Prompt: Grief | Mourning Loved One | Survivor’s Guilt)

Fandom: BNHA (This is an AU for my Next Gen...AU...😬)

Characters: Hitoshi Midoriya (OC), Mitsuko Midoriya kinda, she’s dead (OC), Izuku Midoriya, Ochaco Uraraka, Katsuki Bakugo, Saisho Kirishima (OC), Eijiro Kirishima mentioned, also dead, Kayda Todoroki (OC), Hisao Todoroki (OC), Akio Todoroki haha...you guessed it (OC)

Word Count: 4582

A/N: This may be a mistake since y’all don’t know these characters yet but it just fits all the criteria for today’s prompt and I just couldn’t pass it up. Umm so I wrote this in the car when I couldn’t sleep on a road trip from 2 am to 9 am. I never acctually planned on posting it anywhere, so...idek what I’m trying to say. It’s the darkest thing I had written at that point (and imo, still is my darkest piece) so...yeah. Buckle up, it’s a sad one also please note canon Hitoshi is not this mean

TW: swearing, dissociation, suicidal ideation, child whump (Hitoshi is 13/14), survivor’s guilt (obvi), grief (obvi), family member death, past death of minor (Mitsuko - age 17), emotional detatchment, blood, ptsd flashback (nightmare), panic attack mention, vomiting mention, eventually Hitoshi has a well deserved emotional breakdown

The pencil spun around Hitoshi's knuckles in sync with the second hand of the clock. He stared at it, waiting for it to hypnotize him so that he didn't have to be there for the rest of his session. It wasn't anything personal, his therapist was fine. Today was just a bad day. Not that his days were ever good, but today was a particularly bad one. One where he felt like running out into traffic, just to see what would happen.

"Hitoshi?"

His voice seemed so far away in his dissociative state. It was nice, kind of comforting actually. More so than the unbearable ringing that would occur sometimes when someone spoke to him. The accident fucked his hearing, that's what the doctors said. The accident fucked a lot of things.

56, 57, 58, 59, 4:00

Hitoshi snapped into action, catching his pencil in his hand and slipping it into his bag as he lobbed it over his shoulder.

"Who's coming to get you today, Hitoshi?"

"My dad." He responded with a grumble, not that it was any of his business.

"Okay. Is he here, or would you like me to wait with you?"

Hitoshi shrugged his shoulders, biting back a sarcastic remark as he turned the door handle to exit his therapist's office and enter the hallway. He knew the way back to the waiting room all too well by now: a left, then two rights, down the elevator, and straight down the hall. Hitoshi heard muffled sobbing as he passed one of the doors, sparing it a glance before continuing. He wondered what her problem was. He was a little bit envious, for whatever it was, at least she could express how she was feeling. Hitoshi never felt anything but anger. Sometimes he never felt anything at all.

He made a beeline for the stairway, not too keen on sitting in another silent room with his therapist.

"Getting your steps in today?"

Hitoshi rolled his eyes as he swung himself around the flat bit of the stairwell. Their session was over, couldn't this guy shut up?

He arrived at the waiting room soon enough, tucking his thumbs into his backpack straps as he scanned the room for his dad. Not here yet.

"Not here yet?"

"No, dingbat. Do you see him?"

"Hm. I've got some time before my next appointment. I can stick around for a while."

"Fuuuck me."

"Hey! Sorry, I went to the bathroom." Hitoshi turned towards the cheery voice he knew so well, a small sigh of relief escaping his lungs. "Hey, kiddo-" Izuku placed his hands on Hitoshi's shoulders, faltering as he moved and shoved the front door open. "Hey, hold on!" He called after his son, and Hitoshi did slow down, but he didn't stop. He left the building, then walked a few steps down the sidewalk, perching himself on the ledge of the window sill, his back to the building.

"Uhh…" Izuku sighed, "bad day?"

The therapist gave a vague shrug and Izuku frowned.

"What did he say? Did something happen at school? Did I do something? His mom?"

The therapist smiled apologetically, "I'm sorry, Mr. Midoriya. You should talk to your son."

Izuku bit down on his lip. "Please, just…tell me something. Anything." The words begged to escape his throat, but he swallowed them down and nodded. He understood doctor-patient confidentiality, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

He bid Hitoshi's therapist goodbye, then joined his son on the sidewalk.

"Hey, kiddo." Izuku's voice sounded far away too, and Hitoshi wasn't sure if he wanted it to this time. He continued to stare at the curb of the sidewalk, the whizzing of tires lulling him off into another dissociative state. His father's voice was muffled and he didn't remember the walk from the sidewalk to the car.

"What's wrong, Hito?" Izuku turned to him, and he couldn't will himself to look away from the dashboard.

He didn't know what was wrong. Nothing, nothing was really wrong, but everything was wrong at the same time. He felt so fucking numb but ached all over at the same time. It was exhausting, he just wanted everything to stop. He wanted everyone to stop trying to fix him; he couldn't be fixed.

Hitoshi took a deep breath, willing all of his effort to move his tongue. "Nothing, I'm just tired." it was silent in the car, nobody moved and a wave of guilt washed over Hitoshi, though he wasn't sure what for.

"Survivor's guilt is a common occurrence. It won't be unusual for Hitoshi to feel as though he did something wrong for surviving the crash. Getting him into therapy sessions now is probably the best course of action."

"Can we go home now?" Hitoshi inhaled again as he reached for his seatbelt, jerking it over his body and clicking it into the buckle.

His dad put the car into drive and Hitoshi rested his head on the window.

"You wanna get some ice cream?" Izuku asked. Hitoshi shrugged and ten minutes later he had a chocolate ice cream cone in his hand. He had grown to hate the taste, but he ate it anyway because it made Izuku feel better.

It still felt wrong not to pass any napkins to Mitsuko to get it out of her hair.

Izuku flipped on the lights to his apartment; the "bachelor pad" as he called it. He had turned Hitoshi on to the idea of a man den when he was ten. They both knew this wasn't what he meant.

"Do you wanna-"

"I've got homework," Hitoshi said, heading straight to his room and shutting the door behind him. He kicked off his shoes and told himself that he didn't care enough to put them away, but the way they were scattered across the floor was a little too much like her, so he picked them up and lined them up against the wall.

He fell back onto his bed, exhaling deeply as he stared up at the popcorn ceiling. His room here wasn't too bad, it was a decent size and his dad even bought him a desk and helped him decorate it with figurines and pictures. He put the pictures away though, they made him feel uneasy.

"Hey," There was a short knock at the door and it slowly creaked open. Izuku stuck his head inside. "I know you want to be alone right now, but keep the door open, yeah? Just a crack, okay?"

Hitoshi sat up a bit and nodded at his dad, who gave him a weak smile in return.

"Okay. Thank you." He said, and Hitoshi appreciated that he didn't pry, even though he knew his father was worried. "Uh, is there anything you want for dinner?"

Hitoshi shrugged and Izuku sighed.

"Okay. Think about it and let me know, okay?"

Hitoshi nodded a little, knowing he wasn't going to decide on anything. He really didn't care.

"Okay. I'll leave you alone now. I love you," Izuku said and Hitoshi gave him a small smile, then he left, pulling the door closed with about an inch to spare.

Hitoshi let his head fall back onto the bed, exhaling in a puff as another wave of guilt crashed over him. He always saw the look in his father's eyes.

"Please give me something. Anything."

But he couldn't, no matter how badly he wanted to. He didn't even know what to say. His dad had always been emotional, he wondered how many nights he spent crying because Hitoshi couldn't even manage an "I love you."

He wanted to cry. He couldn't really remember what crying felt like, but he knew he used to feel better after he did. Now, he just felt bad all the time. He was tired of it.

Hitoshi flipped over onto his stomach, trapping his pillow between his arms and his face as his eyes fell on his bag. He had homework, but he couldn't convince himself to do it. The mere thought of it was exhausting and Hitoshi turned his head the other way, towards the wall.

The blood coated his fingers like syrup, making an awful squelching sound as it mixed with his tears. He applied pressure, he heard that somewhere, a tv show, he thinks. It was supposed to make the bleeding better or something, but it kept leaking and it soaked into his jeans and shirt and skin. He must not have been doing it right, maybe he was pressing too hard because Mitsuko kept gasping for air. Maybe he was choking her.

She turned to him and took in a shaky breath, eyes wide and bloodshot and she whispered in a spine chilling voice, "Help me, Hito."

Hitoshi gasped and in the moment of fear, loosened his grip on Mitsuko's neck. She screamed as the ground caved in, swallowing her whole, and Hitoshi couldn't do anything but scream her name as he reached in after her.

Hitoshi opened his eyes and lifted his head from his pillow, blinking a few times before looking around the room. He sighed, realizing it had been a dream. He wasn't sure which reality he would rather be in.

The faint smell of food caused him to sit up fully, and he looked at his nightstand to see a plate of pizza waiting for him. His dad had to eat alone again. Dick move, Hitoshi.

He rubbed his eyes as they fell on the window, the sun had already set. How long had he slept for? Hitoshi yawned and swung his legs over the side of his bed, taking a second before standing up and opening his door. He went to the living room, a short walk in the small apartment. His dad turned his head from the tv as Hitoshi stepped into the room, greeting him with a small smile.

"Hey. I don't know if you saw, but I left you some pizza. But if you don't want that then I can see what else I can make you."

Hitoshi shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "It's fine." He whispered, and if you weren't listening for it you wouldn't have heard it.

"Okay. Mom called. I told her you were sleeping. You want me to call her back?"

Hitoshi shook his head and Izuku tilted his head to the side.

"Sweetie, you should call your mom." He said, prompting a sigh and a bit of an eye-roll from his son. He nodded in the end, though, so Izuku counted that as a victory.

"Later."

"Not too late. She probably has a shift in the morning, she'll be going to bed soon."

Hitoshi didn't respond to that. Instead, he walked around the couch and sat down next to his father. "What are you watching?" He asked, and Izuku was thrilled to be getting this many words out of him.

"I don't know. The news. Nothing special."

"Pro Heroes Ground Zero and Chargebolt work together in EPIC villain take down!" Izuku cleared his throat, switching the tv off before standing abruptly.

"Alright, it's late. Call your mom and get ready for bed, okay?" Izuku ruffled his hair and planted a kiss on his head. "Goodnight, I love you." He said, then went to his room.

Hitoshi stared straight ahead at the switched-off tv. He should get to bed soon so his dad's sleep didn't suffer. Izuku always waited until Hitoshi had gone to bed before actually sleeping himself. He sighed, staring at the phone on the coffee table. He didn't want to call his mom; calling his mother actually involved talking, and she was much more thorough than his father was. He didn't want to deal with that today. Still, if he didn't call her then it'd be his father who suffered and Hitoshi didn't want that.

She picked up on the third ring.

"What, Izuku?"

"Mom." Hitoshi said, leaning into the phone as it rested on his palm.

"Oh, hi honey. What are you doing on Dad's phone?"

Hitoshi shrugged, sighing in frustration as he realized she couldn't see him. "It was closer than mine."

His mother laughed. "Lazy butt. How was your day?"

"Fine."

"How was your meeting with your therapist?"

"Fine."

"Okay…how's Daddy?"

Hitoshi sighed as he looked over the top of the couch to his dad's room, door open and light on. "I'm slowly killing him."

"Fine."

"Okay, can you give me more than that, please? I miss you. Pretty please?"

Again, Hitoshi sighed. "He's okay. We got ice cream."

"Oooh what's the occasion?"

"He's sad that I won't speak to him." "Just…guys being dudes."

Ochako laughed, which provided some type of relief, even if it was only temporary. "Alright, did you guys get your homework done?"

"Yeah," He lied. He didn't want his dad to get reprimanded for his own destructive tendencies.

"Did you have a lot?"

"Not really."

"Any you struggled with?"

Hitoshi cursed silently, looking for a bullshit answer. "Algebra." Mitsuko was good at algebra.

"Oh, ummm, well did you two get it? If not you could snap a pic and send it to me and I can help. Or you could ask Kayda, I'm sure she'd love to help you."

"We figured it out."

"Of course you did, you're so smart." There was a pause when Hitoshi didn't respond. "Your dad is pretty good at algebra, huh?"

Hitoshi sighed. "Yeah." That's where Mitsuko got it.

"Okay, well it's getting late. As much I know you love talking to me, you need to get your rest."

"Okay."

"Okay. I love you, bubba. Goodnight."

"Night." He said and hung up the phone, letting it sit idly in his lap before he moved. He went to his father's room and peeked inside to see the bathroom door closed. He must have been showering. Hitoshi left his phone on his bed, then went back to his own bedroom. He laid down on his bed, not bothering to get under the covers, figuring he'd just get up and shower when he'd inevitably wake up again in two hours. Everything felt heavy, especially his eyelids, and he let them fall closed as he drifted off into the night.

✱✱✱

Hitoshi kicked at the ground as his hands gripped the sides of the chair. His cousin sat in the one next to him, resting her chin on her hand.

"He doesn't need whatever the hell this is, Katsuki-"

"I don't have anything to do with this, don't start with me."

Hitoshi sighed and bent down to pick up his backpack just as Katsuki and his mom burst through the door to the principal's office. His mom rushed over to him, cupping his face in her hands and repeatedly asking if he was injured. Hitoshi pushed her off and started towards the door, scoffing when Ochako blocked his path.

"Hitoshi, what happened?"

The brunette glanced at his cousin who rolled her eyes as she picked up her bag. "Nothing."

"Obviously, it's not nothing if you're both here-"

"Okay, would you shut up and let me parent my own kid?" Katsuki spat, and Ochako scoffed.

"You're not doing a very good job-"

"Mom," Hitoshi whined. Nothing good was going to come from this.

"Saisho, what the hell happened?" Katsuki asked and the girl rolled her eyes. "Don't you dare roll your eyes at me, do you know how many strings I had to pull to come get you?"

"Oh, yeah. 'Cause it's my fault, right? It's always my fault." She pushed past her dad, ignoring his angry shouts and walked out of the door. Hitoshi slipped around his mother, following Saisho's lead. He just wanted to go home.

"This is the third call I've gotten this month. Saisho, whatever the hell this is, you need to get it together because I'm sick of it."

"What do you think, I like you coming to my school and screaming at me in the halls?!" Saisho whipped around and shouted right back at her father, a few spikes growing on her arms. "Yeah, it's the highlight of my freaking week!"

"Watch your mouth!" Katsuki scolded her but she was ready to fire back with more sarcasm.

"It wasn't her fault, she had a panic attack!" Hitoshi shouted over them, grabbing both of their attention as well as his mother's. Quieter, he continued, "They pick on her, they wouldn't leave her alone. So I stepped in and then her quirk was all…you know and then…"

"What…is this true?" Katsuki turned to Saisho, who's breathing had picked up as she stared at Hitoshi. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you don't listen! It doesn't matter."

"Of course, it matters. How could you even think that? You're supposed to tell me stuff like this-"

"She was just scared-" Hitoshi started, but was quickly stopped by a wry cry.

"Oh my GOD!" Saisho wrung her fingers through her hair, pulling at her scalp in frustration. She turned to Hitoshi, "Would you FUCK OFF?! Stop fighting my battles for me!"

"Hey!" Ochako stepped up next to Hitoshi, offended for her son who simply sighed and cast his gaze to the floor.

"Hey! Not okay!" Katsuki grabbed onto her wrist and she growled, yanking it away with all her might but still not able to get free.

"LET GO! Don't touch me! Stop!" She cried, clawing at Katsuki's hand. "Ugh! None of this would be happening if Dad was here!" She yelled, and that was enough for Katsuki to loosen his grip in shock. Saisho immediately ripped her hand away, stumbling backward in a fit of tears.

"I'm here! I'm here, sorry I'm late!" Izuku threw open the double doors, slowing down at the sight in front of him. "What…what's going on?"

Saisho let out one more frustrated sob and stomped forward, shoving past Izuku to the parking lot.

Izuku gave Katsuki a look, which he ignored and started after his daughter. Izuku grabbed him by the arm before he could get passed. "Hey-"

"Don't touch me!" Katsuki yanked his arm away, whipping around to face Izuku. "You're not the only one who lost someone in that accident, you know?! And that's what it was, an accident! It was an ACCIDENT! I'm sorry! You know I'm sorry! And you can punish me all you want, but don't you fucking drag her into it because she lost a parent!" He pointed out at the parking lot, tears welling up in his eyes and Hitoshi realized this was the first time he'd actually seen his uncle cry.

Izuku didn't stop him from leaving after that, and the broken family watched the blond storm out of the school.

"Okay…what the heck did I miss?" Izuku held his arms out to his sides as he approached his son and ex wife.

"More like why the hell did you miss? Izuku, where were you? I know they called you after they called me." Ochako stepped towards him, arms crossed over her chest.

"I was working-"

"So was I."

"I was all the way across town!"

"What happened to your super speed, Mr. Full Cowling?"

"Okay, I'm not doing this with you right now. Hitoshi-"

"No, you don't get to do that. You don't get to dodge my questions like they aren't important."

"I am trying to check on our son!"

"He's fine! I already checked, because I was here."

"Well I am here now and I would still like to know what happened."

"He was in a fight!"

"You were in a fight?!" Izuku echoed, turning to Hitoshi with a shocked look on his face.

Hitoshi raised his eyebrows and his mouth dropped open in surprise. "What?! No, it wasn't a fight-" He started, but was interrupted by his mother before he could finish.

"Maybe you could have done something to prevent it if you actually talked to him."

Izuku recoiled, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth morphing into a scowl. "I do talk to him."

"Oh yeah? What do you talk about?"

"We…Ochako, this isn't fair-"

"You want to know what isn't fair? What isn't fair is that I'm stuck being his mom after you decided to be his friend! Let me guess what you had for dinner last night: whatever he wanted?"

Izuku frowned. "Actually, we had pizza."

"Oh, pizza! Even better!"

Hitoshi shut his eyes, scrunching his nose up as they continued to bicker. He was sure the classrooms down the hall could hear, and he didn't need to add anything else to his souring reputation. "You guys, can we please go home-"

"Shush!"

"Not now!"

This was how they'd been since the funeral. They argued constantly; over why the dishes weren't done (Mitsuko always did them), about who's turn it was to buy groceries (Mitsuko did most of the shopping), about whether they were going to keep Mitsuko's door open or closed.

The last one didn't last long because Izuku moved out a few months after. He wanted her door closed, but now Ochako could keep it open.

They argued over Hitoshi a lot too, and he remembered when he first saw the headlines: "Pro Heroes Deku and Uravity Messy Divorce After Loss of Child!"

He threw up after reading it.

Things were better after they separated. Well, not better, but at least they weren't fighting all the time. They had gotten better at communicating, but he still hated being in the same room with both of them at a time. It was times like these where he wished his sister was still here, or at least that Saisho didn't hate him.

He guessed this was the type of stuff he was supposed to tell his therapist. But how was he supposed to say it when it felt like talking about her was forbidden? Her name was like a lit match, waiting to be dropped on a stick of dynamite embedded deep inside of the Earth's core, ready to blow his world to pieces. He lost himself in these thoughts, spiraling down and down and down until he'd forgotten what reality he was in.

His dissociation was dangerous because he would sometimes wander without realizing it until someone woke him up. This time, it was Hisao.

Hitoshi blinked as Hisao shook his shoulder, staring at him with a concerned look on his face. "Are you okay? Here, come in." He ushered and Hitoshi listened realizing his clothes were damp. He must have walked there in the rain.

"KAYDAAA!" Hisao shouted, and from the annoyed look on his face it didn't seem like it was the first time. "I don't know where she is. Damn, I've got a thing to go to, I just stopped by to pick up some tools. Here, uh-" He flipped the switch to the fireplace and it lit up. "I'll go get you some dry clothes."

"What do you want?" Kayda came down the stairs, her irritated expression faltering as she laid eyes on Hitoshi. "Hito-chan…what…?" She started and looked to Hisao who shrugged, bounding up the stairs to get clothes for Hitoshi.

Kayda finished down the stairs and jogged over to Hitoshi, who was shivering now. "What are you doing here?"

Hitoshi shrugged. "I don't know." He truly didn't.

She frowned and grabbed a blanket from the couch, wrapping it around his shoulders.

"Mom and dad were fighting." He mumbled and her shoulders slumped. He felt bad for unloading onto her like this. Mitsuko was her best friend after all.

"Okay! They're gonna be pretty big, but it's better than what you're wearing, so," Hisao appeared next to them, handing Kayda the dry clothes. "I'm late to meet with Jisoo, so are you guys okay? Should I…?"

Kayda shook her head. "Go on, we'll be fine."

Hisao muttered a quiet "kay" and quickly left the house, leaving Kayda and Hitoshi alone.

"Here, why don't we get you changed?" Kayda helped him stand and led him to the bathroom, handing him the clothes before he closed the door.

About fifteen minutes later, he was curled up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate.

"You know," Kayda sighed, picking at the blankets they were curled up with, "When Akio died…I wanted to die too. Well, not literally. I just couldn't…grasp the concept of living in a world where he didn't exist. I was so mad at him for…leaving me behind."

Hitoshi stared down into his cup. "It's not the same."

Kayda looked at him, then swallowed and nodded, sniffling. "I know."

Now he made her cry. When was this ever going to get any easier?

"I guess what I mean is," She sighed once more, allowing her hands to fall into her lap, "I've lost two important people within the last couple of years. So if you ever need someone to talk to…"

Hitoshi nodded. Kayda was nice, she had always been nice to him. But if he couldn't talk to his therapist, someone who his parents were paying to listen, how was he supposed to talk to his dead sister's best friend?

"Why didn't I wake up sooner?" Well,he's done it. Kayda raised an eyebrow and he, somehow, continued, "If I had…" He stopped, an involuntary sob bobbing in his throat, "She was just…lying there. She was all alone." He whimpered and his vision went blurry before he felt a warm wetness on his cheeks. "If I had…if I had woken up…s-sooner-" He coughed in his own tears, bringing a hand up to cover his face.

It had been a long time since he cried, and now that it was finally happening he didn't like it. His face was hot, and his head felt like it was going to explode from the sheer effort he was putting in to keep his tears from falling. Effort that didn't matter, because they were falling anyway, like a dam that had been patched up with gum, water spurting out of every crack, every crevice it could find. And to top it all off there was this sharp pain in his chest and he couldn't stop his lungs from seizing as he gasped for air, choking on his sobs and coughing when he couldn't get enough of it.

Warm arms restricted his shaking and he pressed his head into Kayda's chest, her hug providing some sense of security as he cried until his eyes swelled. Mitsuko would have made fun of him for this, and the thought only made him cry harder, pleading to some sentient being for the past year to have been a nightmare. Unfortunately for Hitoshi, said sentient being must not exist, because his desperate prayers went unheard.

She whispered little reassurances, and though he didn't believe them, they made him feel a little bit better. His breathing slowed and his cheeks dried, though his head still pounded like a drum. He would have fallen asleep if he hadn't pulled away, hiccuping as he wiped at his eye.

"I should tell my parents where I am." He mumbled, taking out his phone and struggling to type in the pass code with his shaky hand.

"They don't know?" Kayda inquired, to which Hitoshi shook his head. He hadn't told him he was leaving, and they had been too caught up in their argument to notice.

He shot them a text, nothing fancy or anything more than an address. He didn't want to talk to them. He was tired.

But he did feel better. Even if it was just a little bit.

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hoodthekiwi · 6 years

Text

Lie To Me

Description: You and Michael have been broken up for a 2 years but have still remained close friends. And your new job at buzzfeed requires you to work with a lie detector; so you decide why not use it on your ex-boyfriend. What could go wrong?

Word Count: 4,356 Triggers: (((I dont think there’s any)))

“When did you stop loving me?” you asked, not looking him in the eyes and starting to fiddle with your fingers, something Michael recognized, you did this when you wanted to take back something you said because you felt awkward.Michael took a breath, his brain was screaming never, I could never stop loving you. You two were broken up was he allowed to tell you that

“Please? Please please please please” you begged into the phone before a tiredly mumbled, “I don’t know (y/n)..” Your boss, Mr. Reynolds, had given you an opportunity use a lie detector, and you had the perfect idea… Make a video using said lie detector on your rockstar-ex-boyfriend, who oddly enough, you still consider one of your best friends.

“Michael please? It’s for my job and I know you, you so wanna test it to see if you can beat it.” You challenged into the phone, stirring the–now soggy–bowl of cereal that was sitting in front of you.

“C’mon (y/n), why do you want me to do it? What about Calum, I’ll give you Calum.”

“Who am I being given to?” you heard Calum mutter offendedly from the other side of the line and then a large thud as Michael was hit by a pillow.

“Please, Mike? You love making videos with me. I’ll even bring you a pizza and-” “Deal” He cut you off. Well, that was significantly easier than you thought it was going to be. You thought it’d take longer to bribe Michael, the same person who stayed in the car once when you went to the grocery store because:

“It’s raining (y/n)! And the red dye is gonna run down my face. Can I please stay in the car?” He said putting the car in park and pouting

“Mikey, you’re the one who wanted to come and get ice cream at 2 in the morning” you replied back from the passenger side of the car.

“They’re gonna look at me like I'm a psycho though. Please? I’ll give you cuddles and share my ice cream with you when we get home” he said with a smile trying to convince you. “Fine, but only because of the cuddles.” you said before bolting out of the car and into the rain.

“Oh my god, thank you Mikey. Do you want to do it at the office’s set or my apartment?” You asked trying to get the last details before you had to lug the polygraph and it’s operator, Tim, to the wrong location only to have to pack up and relocate again.

“Do you think we could do it here, at the house? The boys and I are recording any chance we get and you could stick around after and we could finally have that lunch we’ve been talking about for a while.” You two had been trying to plan a lunch date–the term date was used loosely–for a while, but somehow something always came up and got in the way so you would have to keep pushing it back.

“That sounds nice, I haven't seen the boys in a while how’re they doing?” You asked. When you and Michael were together, the other boys were like your brothers, and after you two broke up it didn’t seem right for you to hang out with them after metaphoricallyburning the bridge that brought you to them in the first place.

“They miss you like hell, andCalum here is trying to take the phone so he can talk to you… Apparently he’s having some girl problems and needs your help.” He chucked

“I do not! You have girl problems! Fuck you man, gimmie the phone.” you heard Calum huff as they started fighting.

“Can you just–dude stop! If you spill any of your smoothie on my guitar I swear to god I will not hesitate to throw your bass in the pool. You can talk to (y/n) when she gets here.” Michael threatened before you heard a door slam.

“Okay sorry, I’m safely in my room now. But Cal is probably gonna call you in a little so he can talk out his problems. I think he just misses you.. They all do.” He sighed before hearing you giggle from the other side of the line.

“I’m sure I’ll be a big help. So, when do you wanna do this?” you asked not wanting to press your luck.

“Well, what’re you doing right now?” he said looking at the clock. Currently, Ashton and Luke were having a writing session with the Madden brothers in the recording studio behind the house, so Michael and Calum were free to do anything they’d like. Apparently, that consisted of pissing each other off, playing video games, and seeing who could burp the loudest. (It was Michael obvi, haven’t you seen that celebrity juice episode?)

”Right now? Nothing, I guess.” You had just started talking to Michael again, and now you were going to see him and the boys again. Today.

”Is that okay with you? It’s just I thought you know, the sooner the better.” He replied calmly. There wasn’t a trace of nervousness in his voice, just the smooth ton of your ex-boyfriend.

“That sounds perfect. Are you guys still at the same house?” You asked not sure if they had moved since.

“Yeah but I’ll come pick you up babe, that way we can get food on the way.” Michael said accidentallyslipping in his old pet name for you.

“Oh thank you, I needed time to get everything ready and now I can.” You stuttered, taken aback by his slip.

“Guys?” Michael yelled into the house as soon as you made it through the door.

“Okay, either they’re going to scare us, they’re all asleep, or they’re gone.” He muttered more to himself than to you.

“I think they’re gone.” You said walking over towards the counter in the kitchen.

“Why would you say that–” he was cut off by you holding up a note with girly handwriting on it–Ashton’s.

Mike, the boys and I went to the market because we have absolutely no food in this house and I’ve decided that we’re not going to starve. Text me if you want anything. -Ash p.s. The couch is wet so don’t sit on it. I mean it’s only water so if you could put a towel on it that’d be great thanks -A

“He really is the mum of the band isn't he...” you mumbled after reading the note aloud and sticking it back on the fridge which was filled with post-its, stupid polaroids of the band, and their daily schedules.

“Our dear mother Ashton always making sure we don't starve. That's honestly why we keep him in the band.” he giggled from the doorway before pushing himself off the wall and towards the living room.

“Oh of course, it’s totally not because he’s kick ass on the drums or anything, it’s his kind mothering nature.” You replied sarcastically.

“Well with the boys not here at least we can get something done right?” he asked just as the doorbell rang.

”That must be Eli and Tim” You said brushing passed him an towards the front door.

“Eli?” Michael whispered to himself, you had told him the polyographer, Tim, was coming but nothing about this Eli kid. Who is he and why didn’t his name come up before. He was nervous now. Was Eli your boss? Your friend? your BOYfriend? No, he couldn't think like that, you and Michael were friends, just friends.

Michael glared at the brown haired boy as you opened the door and greeted him sounding extremely chirpy…too chirpy in his opinion. “Eli! Thank you so much for helping. And thank you for bringing Tim.” He heard you said before pulling the boy–more like kid maybe–into a hug.

“Hey, I’m Eli.” the kid said sticking his arm out for Michael to shake.

”Michael” the red haired boy replied shaking it with clenched teeth trying to keep his cool. You two had broken up a long time ago and it wasn’t like you two couldn't see other people. So why was he so mad?

“Mike” you warned noticing how he was trying to size himself up to make himself look bigger, like he used to do...when you two used to be together. And as he used to, he glanced at you and calmed down.

“Okay.. So this is Eli, he works with me, and this is Tim… Eli’s boyfriend, the guy who’s going to help us with the polygraph.” You said gesturing to the two and looking at Michael with raised eyebrows and a smirk on your face. Oh, okay so maybe he could like this Eli kid, he seemed polite and nice enough. Now anyway.

“How the hell did you convince me to do this?” He said as Tim, pulled the machine you would be using out of its case and placed it on the table in front of you two.

“You so just want to see if you can beat the polygraph. Don’t forget I knew you better than you knew yourself.. Now are you ready?” you asked Michael, before leaning over as your co-worker handed you your pink index cards.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. You’d think that after playing sold out shows I would be totally fine with this.” There was something about you that always made Michael nervous, and now, after not seeing you for as long as he had, his hands were extremely clammy. Smooth Michael.

“Mikey you’re fine.” You said turning to him before motioning for the camera to be turned on.

“Hi guys it’s (y/n)! Today we’re testing a lie detector and I have Michael Clifford, from the band 5 Seconds of Summer, to help me out.” you said gesturing to the red head. “Hello! I’m so excited!” he shouted at the screen before laughing and looking back towards you. “So, I’m going to ask my questions first and then Mikey here will get his turn after. Oh, we also get one pass so if we don’t want to answer a question then we don’t have to. Some background info for those who don’t know: we were actually dating for–how long was it Mikey?” You looked at him, waiting for him to answer but only seeing small smile on his face.

“Oh, what?” He said after a second, snapping out of his day dream, obviously not listening to a word you were saying.

You laughed and rolled your eyes before continuing,

“Anyway, I think it was like 3 or 4 years, so we’ll see how this goes. Also, disclaimer: I had Eli and Tim make these cards for us so we don’t even know what they say.” You laughed looking towards Eli, your co-worker, who was smirking and manning the camera for you.

“Should I be afraid Eli?” Michael chuckled nervously as he got comfortable in the chair across from where you were sitting.

”Well, I certainly wouldn’t want my ex to be reading me these questions” Eli muttered as Michael’s eyes widened and looked towards you. “Well with that, let’s get you hooked up” you clapped your hands and Tim secured all of the cords into their correct places on Michael.

“Let’s start off with baseline questions. Is your name Michael Gordon Clifford?” you asked as he nodded.

“Out loud” you pretended to whisper.

“Yes, my name is Michael Gordon Clifford.” he smirked and looked back at you, seeing the needles only moving slightly.

“Alrighty, now, is your birthday the 20th of November?”

“Yes, it is”

“Hmm, and one more: Did you actually like that cake I made for our second anniversary?”

“Okay in my opinion it wasn’t thatbad.” He laughed as the Tim shook his head and told you that wouldn’t be a credible answer.

“Well, thank you for sparing my feelings.” You said moving onto the first card.

“Are these all yes no questions or does it progressively get more difficult?” He asked looking at you. You just shrugged and turned to Eli.

“No, the first like 7 are straight answer but the other 18 kind of test your truthfulness, if thats a word, so you gotta explain those. We were originally going to give you each 50 questions too but it seemed like it would be too long so we stuck with 25 each.” he smiled and gestured back to the pink cards in your hand.

“Alright Mikey, Question 1: Where did you take me on our first date?” you said before putting the cards down and folding your hands on the table. “I don’t know which one counts as our first date though. The carnival or the park.” he laughed as the needles started going crazy.

“I don’t think the carnival counts! You ran into me in the house of mirrors and stained my shirt with ketchup!” you countered. You could remember that day like it was yesterday.

You were going to the carnival with a few of your friends and for some reason, they all wanted to go in the house of mirrors, and you got lost. It felt like you were wandering in circles for hours, and right as you were about to turn a corner you ran straight into someone’s hotdog. That someone turned out to be Michael and right when he realized what had happened his face turned as red as the ketchup.

“I AM SO SORRY!” He panicked peeling the hotdog off your shirt and stuffing his hand into his coat and pulling out 20 napkins, spilling a few on the ground in the process. “Sorry! I’m so sorry! I got scared.” he said trying to blot your shirt. “It’s fine but did you at least leave some napkins for everybody else?” you joked trying to lighten the mood.

Only then did he actually look you in the eyes and laugh. “I spill ketchup on your shirt and you’re concerned about the oncoming napkin shortage the other customers are going to have?” He shot back. “Well we never know, they could all launch their hotdogs at strangers.” you laughed and smiled at him. He was cute, and he didn’t make you feel embarrassed to have a giant ketchup stain along the front of your shirt.

“I’m Michael.” he said sticking out his hand. “(y/n)” you replied shaking it and smiling. “Oh dear” he groaned like a middle aged woman. “Here, take my hoodie and we can go get you a new shirt. That is if we can ever find our way out of here.” he said pulling it off and handing it to you. “Um, could you like turn around or something?” you said gesturing to your ketchup stained shirt. “Oh yeah sorry.” he said turning around. “You know what just occurred to me?” he said as his back was towards you. “We’re in a house of…mirrors. So like I–there’s not, umm–why don’t I just hold my coat around you and then you can” he said before gesturing to your shirt. “Okay” you agreed quickly trying to get the dirty shirt off of you.

When you two finally got out you saw three boys–and what looked like bodyguards?–sitting on a bench laughing and scarfing down food. “Come” Michael said grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the table. “MIKEY! Finally! You’ve been in there for like 20 minutes!” The curly haired one said finally noticing you two. “HA! 19:38! You owe me 10 bucks, Calum.” The blonde haired one said turning to the dark haired boy who looked like he was only half paying attention to what was happening at the table, too busy trying to balance two of the forks against each other. “Oh shut up you already owe me 20 for making that shot in the game tent.” he said looking up.

“Hey, I’m Calum. That’s Luke, and that’s Ash” he said smiling at you. “(y/n)” you feeling all of their eyes on you. “So Mikey… Do anything you shouldn’t have done in there?” The blonde one, Luke, said suggestively. “Wow mature Luke.. I ran into (y/n) in the maze and my hotdog kind of just..” he mimed spilling it to the boys. “What a you moment” Calum snorted before going back to playing with his forks.

“Hey! You still make fun of me for the napkin thing.” Michael pouted as you laughed thinking about how it really was a Michael type of moment. “I’m sorry, it was just a very memorable first date” You smiled and giggled before picking the cards up and reading the next one.

“What song reminds you of me?” You questioned shooting Eli a questioning glance and then looking back at Michael.

“Well it used to be A Little Piece of Heaven by Avenged Sevenfold because of your facial expressions while watching the video.” He laughed as you interrupted him.

“THEY ATE EACH OTHER’S HEARTS MICHAEL! But I will admit, I do like the song.” You argued, not enjoying the killing and blood in the first minute and a half of the video.

“ANYWAY, before I was so rudely interrupted–excuse you–the song that reminds me of you now is Your Guardian Angel by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus.” He said as Tim gave you a face saying that if that question were to ever be used in a courtroom, well, it wouldn’t be a viable answer.

So far the questions had been relatively easy, nothing too difficult to answer, though he did try to lie through a few.

“Jeeze Eli this question though: ‘did you ever think about marrying me?’” You took a deep breath before you looked up at Michael and laughed.

“Well, yeah. We were together for four and a half years.. Didn’t you?” He furrowed his eyebrows before looking down towards his lap. Michael thought about it a lot actually, and to his dismay, sometimes he still thought about it. What married life would be like, what your wedding would loo like, what your home and your kids would look like. And god, did he want to make that dream a reality more than anything.

“I think a few times. You know on like our anniversaries and stuff, or when I went on tour with you and we walked around towns, I thought what it would be like if we were on our honeymoon or something. I don’t know, it sounds stupid now.” You felt your face heating up as he looked at you. But he reassured you with a, “It’s not, I did too.” and you felt significantly better.

“Alright onto something a little less sad, for your birthday that one year I made you that terrible cake and you said it was good. I knew you were lying but now you can’t so: was the cake shit?” You cocked your head to the side and looked him. You couldn't believe that he actually ate it, it was terrible. You had accidentally put two separate recipes together into one and it was a mess.

“Okay it wasn’t my absolute favoritecake in the world but…” he said scrunching his nose as Tim shook his head.

“I am hurt Mikey” you joked back at him. This was nice, it was nice to talk to him in general, your personality came out more and you had missed your best friend.

“It wasn't a total bust though, you sure made up for it after.” he smirked and gave the camera a wink as you sat there, horrified at what he had said. But to your embarrassment, it was probably one of Michael’s favorite birthday memories, coming a close second to when the boys surprised him by flying you out to see him on his birthday. And if they didn’t see you two for the next few days, no one except for them had to know.

“I cannot believe you said that, you butthead.” you said glaring at him, but laughing anyway.

“Did you love me?” you laughed still thinking about his last answer, reading the card and looking towards Eli and then back towards your red haired ex-boyfriend.

And without even skipping a beat he answered, “Of course I loved you. How could I not, I told you that every day.”

Michael took a breath, his brain was screaming never, I could never stop loving you. You two were broken up was he allowed to tell you that? But out of the corner of his eye he could already see the needles moving crazily along the graph, and he could see Eli’s body stiffen from behind the camera. As he looked up, you wouldn't meet his gaze, your eyes were locked on the card you had just read.

“I didn’t write that card... Did you write that card?” Eli asked as Tim shook his head.

“I-(y/n) you already know the answer to that.” Michael huffed

“But do I? Michael our break up was so messy. I don’t even really know what happened.” You replied shuffling the remaining cards in your hand.

“What do you mean? It was pretty clear to me that you were tired of being with me. I come back from the jewelry store with a ring and you’re just gone. All I have left is a note that says don’t look for me. And when I got back to LA all your stuff was gone.” He was doing anything to keep from breaking down.

“You came from the what?” You replied still stuck on his response as Eli took Tim outside so you two could talk in private.

“You had to have known (y/n). We were together for so long I was so in love with you and I thought you were too. You had to have known that I was gonna propose. I was absolutely and utterly in love with you.” He was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from crying any more, still, a little over a year after it happened, it hurt like hell.

“I-I didn’t know I’m so sorry. You guys were just getting bigger and the fan base was too I just couldn’t take it anymore. I’m so sorry Mikey I never meant to hurt you.” You on the other hand had started breaking. What you two didn’t notice was the boys who had come in the door and were quietly standing in the entryway knowing exactly what Michael was talking about and knew that the very ring he was referring to was right in that house haunting him every single day.

“I wanted to more than anything go and find you I just didn’t think you wanted me to be there. I asked the boys to go see you to make sure you were okay. I dialed your phone every day but never hit call because I thought you were done. If there is anything I could do to go back and ask you to marry me I would. I would’ve booked that flight from New York to LA that night to fly home to you. I loved you, I still love you, I’m still absolutely head over heels for you and I promise I’d marry you in an instant.” He said scooting closer to you and lifting your chin to look him in the eyes. You were silent.

“Please say something baby” he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear

“I love you too. I’m sorry I ran I was so wrong to run away from the thing that made me the happiest.” You leaned your forehead against his before grabbing both sides of his face and kissing him with everything you had.

“I meant it when I said I’d marry you in an instant you know” he breathed against your lips.

“I know, I’d say yes in an instant too.” You breathed back before getting tapped on the shoulder.

It was Luke. “Hey sorry for interrupting- we thought you’d be done but we also thought you might want this.” He said handing Michael a small blue box with silver accents.

Michael laughed “Were you three listening the whole time?” He looked towards the boys. Luke standing with his hands behind his back leaning against the wall, Calum biting back a smile, and Ashton, with tears in his eyes but still trying to look put together.

“I’m fine, I promise. I just- I love you two and you know the pollen count is high and whatever you’re crying too” Ashton blurted, sniffling a bit.

“Hey Mike? Just a thought, ask her properly so we can celebrate!” Calum sarcastically says before dragging the boys to the living room, where Michael knows they can still hear you two but there’s a false sense of privacy for you two.

Michael looks back to you, tears in his eyes and the box still in his hands. As he opens the box there’s a simple diamond ring one that you remember seeing in some window over a year and a half ago.

“Now, I know that was messy, and we’ve wasted a year. But baby, I love you more than anything and I want to spend the rest of my life next to you and proving to you that this stupid musician kid from Australia is the one for you. So, with that, will you marry me?” He says as he unhooks himself from the machine and gets down on one knee.

“I love you Michael Clifford, yes of course I will.” Launching yourself into him for a hug and knocking you two onto the ground.

“Oh thank god it’s about time” you hear from the other room as the boys come out.

“Do you two need a room or are we gonna have to leave the house again for a few hours.” Luke says laughing before Michael grabs your hand, puts the ring on and drags you up the stairs towards his room.

“Give is a few hours okay? I just got my girl back and she’s crazy enough to marry me. Were celebrating! I mean you guys can do whatever you want, I don’t care I’m engaged!” He yells as you two make your way down the hallway to...make up for lost time.

Authors Note: It’s been quite a while since I wrote anything and well I’ve had this half finished for over a year so I thought I might as well take some time and see what I can come up with. I hope you like it! (There’s also a Deaf!Michael imagine that I have half written so let me know if anyone wants me to finish it)

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themagicandthemystery · 6 years

Text

8/7, 8/8 and 8/9. cause seven ate nine. martes, miercoles y jueves.

catch up time. i did end up staying in at the hotel on tuesday night. one of the waiters actually lived in md for a long time. near gaithersburg. so that was fun.

wed. i wasn’t exactly sure what to do with myself since i only had the afternoon. i went to a cool coffee shop called full city coffee house. the coffee was great. two guys were speaking english next to me, so i said, “i’m saying hi because i also speak english.” the guy replied, “hi, also speak english.” how clever. they both live in buenos aires, one dude was a brit from liverpool, the other from san fran but went to college at dickinson or something in pa. the one from san fran did not seem interested in talking to me, but the brit was. they both are married to or marrying argentinian woman. they told me to be careful cause it’s a trap. luckily for those who don’t want me moving to argentina i wasn’t there long enough for that to happen. but even if it did, i’d make them move to the states. so. read game of thrones, wondered the streets a bit. found a store that had a bunch of bk stuff in it. those guys did tell me that buenos aires has an obsession with nyc.

after wondering the streets i stopped at a place for dinner before heading to buequebus. it was ok, some viking place. didn’t want to go far from the hotel cause i didn’t want to get lost and i needed to get back to hotel to grab my bags. was planning on giving myself 2 hours to get to ferry. it was raining. i called the uber. one person didn’t show up. the second person showed up but said they only took cash, which is obvi bs cause it’s uber and he’s trying to scam. then, the 3rd person. finally. it was a little after 7. ferry left at 9. it is about a 20/25 minute drive. BUT. because of the vote on abortion rights, traffic was madness. the absolute worst traffic i’ve ever been in. there were huge rally’s for people pro-choice and pro-life. the driver kept honking, which is dumb. honking does not make traffic go away in most cases. i got to the ferry around 9:45. shit, obviously. i did realize i was going to be late while i was in the car, so i made peace with it. the buquebus people were very helpful. there were none leaving that night though, so looked like i was spending another night in BA. money wise, that kinda sucks, but. we all know i love hotels. they gave me a ticket, at no charge, for the next day (today). i actually got to get the more expensive ticket which is a ferry directly to montevideo rather than the ferry and bus. so that’s kinda cool. once that was handled, i had to figure out where i was sleeping.

i did see a sheraton not that far back while i was in traffic. was just going to go there, but the buquebus woman gave me a list of close hotels and there is also a holiday inn express that you could see from buquebus. i just decided to walk there. it was raining. i had no umbrella. it was close. walked in and up to the concierge and said i needed a room. they were all booked. which clearly i understood. but i needed help, so i asked if he could help me find something, especially since i can’t really call around places. he was awesome, he found me a hotel that was close and even called them to let them know i was coming. it was about 8 minutes from the holiday inn. pulitzer hotel. i just had to walk down the street then make a right on maipu. pronounced. my poo. ha. ugh. this is long and i’m over writing it right now! but i will persist!

ok. got to the hotel. loved it!! very cute and my style. great decor. i was just gonna stay in the hotel, read and have a glass of wine. but the bar was empty. so i asked the concierge if there was any place super close that was also cool. indeed there was, a place called SHOUT. very chic cocktail bar. the bartender there was awesome. great perspective on things. they had great cocktails and wine on tap. some guy and the bartender made some cool drink for me that you drink kinda like mate. i was contemplating staying an extra day because someone told me about this river tour you can take to see some of the beauty of argentina, i was kinda torn. and she was like, these are the stresses of life on vacation :) good call. i really would love to see more of argentina, and south america for that matter, this is just not the trip for it. i don’t really wanna do that stuff solo. decided against it. after i finished the drink i headed back to the hotel for a glass of wine before bed at the bar with my book. chatted with the bartender for awhile. he was flirting a bit too much. i told him i had a boyfriend. he was nice though. when i have my layover he wanted to take me somewhere in BA. that’s def not happening. THEN. i went to bed.

and finally! last paragraph. there will also be many pics to follow. woke up. showered. wondered around the streets a bit. the drugstores here have a lot more products than they do in montevideo. i kinda got lost, in a good way, on the way to buquebus just to see the sites. i passed a lot of cool stuff. but now. i have to board the ferry! so i gotta go. i will finish the day tonight or tomorrow! DONE.

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tyson-berry-blog · 7 years

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Morgan Rielly #2 - Age Difference

Anon one asked: Could you do a really fluffy Morgan Rielly one? Anon two asked: Could you do a Morgan Rielly one about an age gap...where your 19 and he's obvi 23? Like maybe where someone makes a comment about the age difference and it upsets you so Mo comforts/reassures you

Hello all! I decided to combine these two prompts because I have been gone for so long. I did this sort of out of order because I really wanted to get something out to you guy. I hope you enjoy it.

The coffee shop you work at is rarely busy during the middle of the afternoon on a weekday which gives you some time to get homework done in between customers. It’s close enough to campus that you can pick up shifts after classes and not have to worry about getting home too late. You were working on a sketch for your required art credit when a small cough drew your attention away.

You looked up, “hi! Sorry, I’ll be right with you.” You hopped off of the stool and walked to the register.

“What can I get you?”

The man in front of you who couldn’t have been much older than you, had a somewhat serious expression on his face as he studied the menu behind you on the wall.

“Just a regular coffee for me please.” His bright blue eyes met yours and momentarily rendered you speechless.

You gathered your thoughts, “what size?”

“Largest you’ve got,” he said with a bit of a laugh.

“Long day?”

“You could say that.”

You poured his coffee, “I get it. I had two tests, a quiz, and a project due this week. I cannot wait for the weekend.”

“Are you a student then?”

“A sophomore at the University of Toronto.”

You handed his cup over and rung him up. He hesitated for a moment, surveying the mostly empty shop. You weren’t sure if he was looking for a place to sit but instead he walked towards the door with a wave over his shoulder and disappeared. You didn’t expect to see the guy again, there was no reason to. A one and done type situation.

You were wrong.

The next day, around the same time as before, a small cough drew your attention away from your work.

“You’re back!” the words were out of your mouth before you could stop them.

He looked at you, slightly startled.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. What can I get you?”

“A regular coffee please.”

“The largest size we’ve got?”

He chuckled, “please.”

You rung him up and once again he hesitated before ultimately disappearing.

It continued like this for over two weeks. He would come in around the same time every day and it wasn’t until the seventh day when you found out his name was Morgan. That was the day he also decided to stick around. He sunk down into one of the worn leather chairs and pulled out his phone, playing on it while you helped another customer. When they left, it meant you and Morgan were the only two in the shop. He occasionally sipped his coffee and didn’t look up. You poured yourself a cup, cut two slices of pie and went over to join him.

He pocketed his phone, “thanks.”

“No problem.”

After this it was like a floodgate opened. You told him about the challenges of school; he told you about how he traveled a lot for his job and how it made relationships hard. In a moment of confidence, you asked for his number and he easily passed over his phone. You wondered if he had been working up to asking you for yours. You began texting regularly and soon it progressed from a tentative friendship to a tentative relationship. With your busy school schedule and Morgan’s busy game schedule, you hadn’t met any of his teammates, until now.

Morgan had recently moved out after Jake got married and his new place was finally guest ready. His teammates were bugging him about seeing his new place so he decided to throw a small house warming party. He wanted you to be there, seeing as how you helped a lot with the set up and it only seemed right. The doorbell ringing sent your nerves in a frenzy.

“Babe,” he squeezed your hand. “It’ll be okay.”

“They’re going to hate me.”

“They’re not going to hate you.”

“You don’t know that.”

The doorbell rang again.

He let go of your hand, “you’re great. They can’t hate you.”

He went to open the door and you forced yourself to not run off into Morgan’s bedroom to hide. You could hear the boys in the front hall, chirping him about anything and everything in sight. Their voices grew louder as they got closer and all of a sudden it died off. You turned around to see a group of guys look at you.

Morgan pushed past them, “don’t be weird guys.”

He introduced you and you gave a small wave to them. Auston was the first to speak and gave you a nod in acknowledgment.

“How’d Mo end up with you?” Auston asked. “The old man that he is.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call him old,” you responded.

Everyone spread out after that, poking around the rooms and just generally being nosy. You were about to head into the kitchen when you heard part of a conversation going on inside.

“It’s kind of weird don’t you think?” asked what sounded like Mitch.

“I didn’t think Mo was into dating that young.” That was Matt.

“Shit dude, even I’m older.” Was Auston’s comment.

The three of them continued to remark on the apparent age difference between you and Morgan. You didn’t think it was that significant; you’d be turning twenty soon anyway. Not wanting to make a scene and been seen as even more childish, you did retreat to Morgan’s room. It was a good fifteen minutes of you playing games on your phone before the door opened. Morgan peaked his head in and looked around until his eyes settled on you.

“There you are. What’re you doing in here?”

“It just got a little crowded.”

“Everything okay?” he sat on the edge of the bed where you were sprawled out.

You looked back down at your phone, “I’m good.”

“What’s up?”

“I said I’m good.”

“And I don’t believe you. Give me some credit.”

“I’m good.”

He leveled you with a look.

“Fine. I don’t think the guys like me so I removed myself from the situation. They’re your friends, I wanted you to hang out with them.” “What do you mean they don’t like you?”

You sighed, “I overheard some of them in the kitchen talking about how young I am compared to you.”

“You’re like three years younger.”

You just shrugged.

“Who was it?”

“I’m not telling you, I don’t need to be the dividing force between you and your team.”

“I’ll find out eventually. It’d just be easier if you told me.”

You shook your head.

He reached for your hand, “I want you to know that they’re being immature. You are so motivated and smart and I am so proud of you that it shouldn’t matter what they think. They’ll come around eventually and if not, well then it’s their loss.”

You gave him a watery smile, “thank you.”

“It’s the truth.” “Get back out there.”

“I can kick them out, tell them it’s time to go and then we can have the place to ourselves.”

“As temping as that is, they’re your friends. I’ll just wait in here until they leave.” He watched you relax back on the bed, “oh, I’m definitely kicking them out.”

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #Toronto Maple Leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines #hockey imagines

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queerofcups · 7 years

Text

A lotta y’all wanna know my music opinions for some reason so I’m just dumping a bunch of these under a cut so i can stop spamming peoples dashes

Tune-yards

If I know them:

(perfume genius rules)

Favourite Song: Powa

Least Favourite Song: i haven’t listened to anything other than whokill oops

Favourite Album: i haven’t listened to anything other than whokill oops

Least Favourite Album: i haven’t listened to anything other than whokill oops

Song that got me into them: lol powa

Seen Live?: nope

Rate: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6! | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Lorde

First song youtube took me to: Perfect Places

First Impression: I know of Lorde, I just dont know her that well. I dont hate this but her voice strongly reminds me of that vine of the dude pretending to be an. indie girl with bananies and avocadies

Do I like it?:

Would I listen to more from them?:

Rate (from what I heard): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7! | 8 | 9 | 10

Ed Sheeren Respectfully, no. Tegan and Sara Favourite Song: god probably The Con. Also BWU. Also Where Does the Good Go. Least Favourite Song: I feel like there are a lot of songs I dont have any feelings about. Favourite Album: I wish I could say The Con but its definitely Love You to Death Least Favourite Album: Sainthood Song that got me into them: Nineteen Seen Live?: no but my boo did, i was out of town working >: | Rate: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9! | 10 Azealia Banks I don’t like rap. 212 goes off though.

Saint Motel First song youtube took me to: My Type First Impression: I want this muumuu real bad. Its kind of generic indie dude pop but its nice. Do I like it?: Sure! Would I listen to more from them?: Probs not. Rate (from what I heard): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5? | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Janelle Monae (ya big ole queermo) lol, hi my not so anon sweetie. i’m just doing electric lady. Favourite Song: Sally Ride or Victorious or Dance Apocalyptic...anything from The Electric Lady Least Favourite Song: I don’t need Look Into My Eyes. Favourite Album: Electric Lady Least Favourite Album: Not-Electric Lady Song that got me into them: Come Alive (from The Archandroid) Seen Live?: Not yet Rate: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10+++

Run the Jewels Still don’t like rap.

The Decemberists Favourite Song: Oh god. The Tain. The Crane Wife 1,2 &3. I’ve been very into I Was Meant for the Stage and A Gymnast High Above the Ground lately Least Favourite Song: Anything from Long Live the King Favourite Album: As a cohesive album, The Crane Wife. Song for song, Castaways and Cutouts Least Favourite Album: Long Live the King Song that got me into them: The Mariner’s Revenge Song Seen Live?: Next month!!!!!!! Rate: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10+++ justin and/or griffin mcelroy stop being mean to travis! thank travis for travis! ABBA

First song youtube took me to: I skipped all their hits that I know and got Waterloo First Impression: This damn pianola. Its fine. Do I like it?: I don’t hate it! I wouln’t seek it out. Would I listen to more from them?: I mean. Its ABBA. I don’t have a choice. Rate (from what I heard): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4? | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Kevin Abstract

First song youtube took me to: Empty First Impression: I’m into...I was into the song playing for the intro. Y’all! I don’t like rap! Do I like it?: No! Because I don’t like rap! Would I listen to more from them?: See above. Rate (from what I heard): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Glass Animals Favourite Song: Black Mamba Least Favourite Song: Premade Sandwhiches Favourite Album: Zaba Least Favourite Album: Don’t love their latest one Song that got me into them: Gooey? Or Hazey? Seen Live?: I think they were at a fest I went to once? But not actively. Rate: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7? | 8 | 9 | 10

The Front Bottoms Favourite Song: West Virginia Least Favourite Song: Father Favourite Album: The Front Bottoms Least Favourite Album: Talon of the Hawk Song that got me into them: Flashlight Seen Live?: Yes! As an opener for Brand New, that’s how I got into them. Rate: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9! | 10

AJJ

First song youtube took me to: y’know, i first heard of them in highschool and never got around to listening to them, anyway, Goodbye, Oh Goodbye First Impression: ...this is going to be very The AV Club of me but yes. Do I like it?: Very into it. Would I listen to more from them?: Definitely will. Currently am. Rate (from what I heard): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9! | 10

Alicia Keys Favourite Song: Fallin’ is a classic. sry not sry Least Favourite Song: I hate Girl is on Fire and them struggle notes so damn much. Favourite Album: The Diary of Alicia Keys Least Favourite Album: Girl on Fire Song that got me into them: Fallin’ obvi Seen Live?: No thank you Rate: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9! | 10

FKA Twigs

I have an irrational hatred of FKA Twigs music, pass.

Arcade Fire

First song youtube took me to: Everything Now First Impression: I listened to them like once in high school and i’m remembering why it wasn’t twice....wait. Disco??? Do I like it?: Now that its disco, yes Would I listen to more from them?: Depends. Is there more disco? Rate (from what I heard): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 (dependent on amount of disco) | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Clipping.

the Daveed Diggs of it all doesn’t mean I like rap.

#meme city meme meme city

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hayjeon · 7 years

Text

Girls Like You (ft. Jeongguk)

→ badboy!jk, jock!au, prequel (part 2) to You Who [M] (part 1 here) → 8k words, (lots of fluff, slight smut, tiny bit angst)

A/N: Yay! Thank you everyone for enjoying the badboy!jk couple! You Who was my first fic to get to 1k notes, and after uploading the prequel pt. 1, I reached 1k! Thank you everyone again, I’ll be following up with a post soon! :)

In the meantime, go check out my other tae fic, Give and Take, that I uploaded as another surprise :) It’s a similar au that I wrote before this prequel, so I think you guys’ll like it!

You woke up with raging headache and you squinted your eyes at the sun shining through your blinds as you sit up. Grabbing your phone, you see the time 10:42 am along with other texts from Jihyo and Jungyeon. Groaning, you thank the stars that its Saturday morning and you have no other obligations today. You walk over to the kitchen and grab yourself a cup of water and chug it and rub your eyes.

Your roommate walks out and laughs at your state. “Rough night?”

You squint at her. “Oh god, I don’t even remember how I got home.”

Nayeon frowns at you, “You don’t? I was next door, and I heard you talking with Jeongguk. Seems like he put you to bed then.”

You scrunch your eyebrows. You distinctly remember going to get drinks after Jeongguk told you about the divorce, but everything after the moment you left the food truck was blurry. You gag, and clutch your mouth as you run to the restroom and empty your stomach into the toilet bowl. Nayeon just follows you silently and pats your back as you cough. “Damn, haven’t seen you get drunk in a really long time.”

You groan, flushing and grabbing your toothbrush. “Ugh, I remember why I hate drinking, I’m a fucking lightweight and hangovers suck.”

You finish brushing your teeth and grab your phone to send Jeongguk a quick text as you eat your cereal.

[To: JK, 11:01 AM] Hey, thanks for bringing me home last night. Ugh, I have a horrible headache :(

Usually Jeongguk is quick to respond, but even after finishing your cereal and getting out of a long hot shower, your phone is silent. You assume he’s busy with practice and reply to Jihyo and Jungyeon.

[To: group message, 11:32 AM] Hi, im awake

[From: Jihyo, 11:33 AM] good morning sleeping beauty, it’s been a while since u woke up so late

[To: gm, 11:33 AM] Sorry i got shit drunk last night :( and i passed out until now

[From Jungyeon, 11:33 AM] uh WTF with who? tfti

[To: gm, 11:34 AM] jeongguk

[From: Jungyeon, 11:35 AM] ugh I told you to be careful of him! what if he like convinced u into sex or something?!

[To: gm, 11:35 AM] ugh shut up he even put me in bed, relax

[From: Jihyo, 11:37 AM] just be thankful it wasn’t his bed

[To: gm, 11:37 AM] omg its not a big deal stop

[From: Jihyo, 11:37 AM] its so obvi u like him, we’re just trying to protect you.

[From: Jungyeon 11:38 AM] ya...heard from lisa today that the rumor is true. he humped and dumped jennie the other night

[From: Jihyo, 11:38 AM] omg... srsly, why do you even like him?

You set down your phone with a groan, curling up in your sheets, feeling a bit sick again at the reminder of the fact that Jeongguk did not see you as anything other than a friend. Which explains why he was okay with tucking you in with no problem and fucking a gorgeous girl like Jennie. You sighed as you closed your eyes.

Jeongguk growls as he benches another five pounds on his personal best. Gritting his teeth he lifts the bar once, twice, before clanging it back on the original position, his phone lying discarded next to him. What a fucking joke.

It was just his luck that you were too drunk to remember what exactly had happened. Just his luck that he ended up falling for the one girl that was exactly the kind of girl who deserved more than guys like him. You understood him, you were independent, kind, real, smart, sassy, funny, and everything he’d wanted in a girl. But he was the kind of guy who did one-night stands, who ended up unknowingly winning the bet on who got to fuck Jennie first, played football and was forced to attend huge parties where he got piss drunk again and ended up waking up with a ranging headache and an unknown body naked next to him. Rinse, and repeat.

He never intended for it to become like this. What started as just getting accustomed to the team and its dynamics ended up in him developing an ego much too big for him to control, and a sex drive that he indulged too much. And now, it was too late. For once, he’d found something he wanted to prove himself to, pouring into his studies to impress you and convince you that he wouldn’t fuck you over like other athletes, and going lengths to salvage a friendship with you instead of scaring you off with the rumors of him being a fuckboy. The actions he did were genuine, he loved being able to walk you home to spend just a few more minutes with you, and tried his hardest to never miss your food truck nights. Whenever he saw you struggling with the huge textbooks, he found it natural to just sling his football bag over his shoulder and grab it from you, the thankful gleam in your eye when you smiled at him a much more than generous prize for his actions.

You were different. You were honest, yet kind. You were funny, but still he found it so easy to just spill all his thoughts and concerns to you. You were so, so smart and diligent, and he really thought it was your most attractive feature, how driven you were on accomplishing something. And most important to him, was the fact that you knew him. He’d scrolled through your other texts that night, seeing how you defended him against your friends’ quite valid accusations about him. And his heart sank when he realized you harbored feelings for him since a while ago, feeling that he returned but was too much of an asshole to own up to.

Because you truly deserved better.

He was pumping again when Shownu walked up to him, offering to spot him. Jeongguk nodded and continued pumping the bar. The older boy commented, “Hey, so, you know that girl you’ve been hanging out with recently? Y/N?”

Jeongguk pauses, “What about her?”

Shownu grins, “Well Wonho and I have a bet going on to see which one of us can a nerd’s virginity first. And since you know this girl, wanna hook me up?”

It all happens way too fast. Jeongguk slams the bar down in its place and gets up from the bench and lunges at Shownu, landing a hard punch straight on the linebacker’s jaw and kneels on top of him with his hands at the collar of his shirt. “Don’t you fucking dare to try that shit with her! I’ll fucking kill you!” He yells out, shaking the guy.

The other guys training in the gym run over, grabbing the quarterback and yanking him away from Shownu, who’s bleeding from a busted lip. Smirking he taunts Jeongguk. “Why, you like her or something? Ha! Should’ve known your style was a cutesy little quiet nerd like her.”

Jeongguk lunges again, but Jimin is there to pull his arms back. “Yo, bro, quit it. If coach sees, you’ll be off the team.” He mutters, and Jeongguk calms down, breathing heavily. He yanks his arms away from the boys and stomps towards the locker room.

Jimin looks at Shownu who smirks at Jeongguk’s retreating figure. He’s never seen the younger one so angry before. “Not cool man.” He glares at the linebacker before jogging after Jeongguk.

He finds the younger player sitting on the locker benches, his head in his hands.

“Hey, bro, you ok?” He sits besides Jeongguk and waits for him to respond.

“I’m fine.” He grits out and Jimin frowns. “Uh, well, you’re clearly not, so I’m not gonna leave until you tell me what’s been up your ass this whole time.”

When Jeongguk doesn’t respond, Jimin carefully tests the waters. “Is it... is it Y/N?”

Jeongguk stands up, grabbing his towel and heading towards the showers. “I don’t want to talk about it hyung.”

Jimin watches him leave and glances at his phone on the bench. In the lock screen is another unopened message that Jeongguk probably hasn’t seen yet.

[From: Y/N, 12:43 PM] Hey, are you ok? Can we talk?

So he gets an idea and swipes the message open, using the quick reply option to text back a response before tucking it into the pocket of Jeongguk’s duffel bag.

[To: Y/N, 12:44 PM] Yeah, meet me at the game tonight. We can talk after. Wear my jersey.

You’re a bit giddy at the thought of finally going to one of Jeongguk’s games. Apparently, according to Nayeon, getting invited to a football player’s game wa a pretty big deal. In addition, wearing his jersey was also a pretty clear sign of interest. A glimmer of hope was in your chest, because Nayeon also mentioned that no girl had been invited to Jeongguk’s games, and better yet, he’d never invited any girl to wear his jersey before.

Not even Jennie. So you smile as you check your hair, curled to perfection, once last time and smooth the jersey over your jean shorts. You’d paired some regular black converse with the look and a white t-shirt underneath the jersey to make the emerald green and yellow colors pop. Turning around, you smile at the large 58 with “JEON” stitched over it. Someone had dropped off the jersey at your door, and you suspected it was the one who lived three floors up.

You check your phone and text Jihyo and Jungyeon that you’re on your way as you hitch a ride with them to the game. They, despite being quite studious, were still into the football games and went often. So you decide to sit with them. The bleachers are already packed when the three of you arrive, and Jihyo breaks off to go buy your snacks, and you and Jungyeon go to find some good seats. Thankfully, theres a small space for the three of you pretty close to the middle front, and you plop down before someone else can get it.

Jihyo returns and you three chew on your nachos and hot dogs happily as you watch the game. You avoid their prying questions about your jersey and watch as Jeongguk literally owns the team. The stands erupt in cheers as he scores another touchdown, and he doesn’t even give them a glance as he runs back to center. You scream along with them, pumping your fists into the air and yelling his name.

But he doesn’t even look your way, though, you note with a disappointed purse of your lips.

Maybe its because he’s so into the game, you think, and you stand up to go to the restroom when halftime is called.

You’re standing in line for a refill of your drink per sans Jihyo’s request, when someone taps you on your shoulder. You whirl around to see someone in a jersey with a helmet on so you smile widely.

“Jeongguk?”

The figure whips his helmet off and only then, you recover from your excitement and realize that this guy is shorter than Jeongguk and has a different number on his jersey. A handsome guy, with red lips and sweaty black hair smiles down at you. “Hey, Y/N right?”

You nod hesitantly, gripping the cups in your hand. Since when did football boys know your name? “Uh, yeah. And you are?”

He tucks his helmet under his arm. “Wonho. Nice to meet you. What brings you here? Jeongguk?”

You nod, biting your lip as you take his outstretched hand. He holds on a little too long for your liking. “Um, yeah.”

He smirks down at you, licking his lips. Other people in the line are glancing at the receiver chatting up the girl who had Jeongguk’s jersey on. “You guys dating or something?”

You frown, “Uh, no, but it’s none of your business.”

He holds up two defensive hands. “Woah, my bad. It’s just because I wanna get to know you a little better. How about you come to the afterparty?”

“What afterparty?”

He cocks his head as he hears a whistle, signaling for him to make his way back. “Basically, this team here is good, but we beat them every single year. We have parties whenever we win, and Jeongguk will be there too! You should come! Just hitch a ride with anyone and they’ll be going to Seokjin’s house. That’s where the party’ll be!”

When you hesitate, he just throws another smirk at you as he jogs backwards. “See ya there!” He turns and runs towards the pit. And you step up to your spot in line, confused, but a little excited.

As expected, your college’s team wins with an easy victory, and the crowd erupts in cheers. Jimin yells into the mic about the party, and the football team disappears into the pit. You try to follow, to try and get a conversation with Jeongguk and congratulate him, but you’re swept away by the rush of people getting out of the stands and into the carpools to Seokjin’s party. Sighing, you give up and hitch a ride with some girls from your math class to the house.

It’s a huge mansion, the frat house, and is already booming with music and drunken people are dancing lewdly when you enter. It’s your third time at a party like this, and you recall why you haven’t forced yourself to come again to something like after the second. Parties like this weren’t your thing, and you hated how hot and claustrophobic it felt and how loud these things were.

But you tack on a smile as you see the football boys getting out from their trucks in the parking lot a few minutes later, freshly showered and greeting the guests with handshakes and loud cheers. Before you can spot Jeongguk though, Wonho, from earlier jogs up to you with a wide smile.

You can’t help but feel a tiny bit cautious around him, something about him was so off-putting. But he greets you politely, and smiles as he maneuvers you away from the entrance of the house and towards the kitchen. You look back to try and catch a glimpse of Jeongguk, but he’s quite insistent, so you let him guide you away. Leaning against the bar, he asks, “So how are you liking the party.”

You bite your lip as you eye the dance floor and the overflowing drinks. “Um, I just got here so...” He notices your hesitation and smiles, “Well, then you gotta drink!” Ignoring your protests, he walks away from the counter, claiming to grab you a drink. You watch him leave with a pout, wanting to just go find Jeongguk.

You sit down on a stool, observing your surroudings. The large living room has been converted into a dance floor, the DJ on the second floor bouncing along with the crowd to a loud beat that’s ringing in your skull. You can see couples giggling and jogging up the steps to hide away in one of the countless rooms, or making out furiously in the corners. In the dining room, there are boys who are chanting, “Drink drink drink!” at the new frat boy recruits, holding the poor kids above their heads as they stick a tube into his mouth and force him to chug the bag of beer. On the dining table, some people are doing body shots. You cringe as in the den you can see some guys whipping off their shirts and girls giggling as they remove theirs too in a game of strip poker.

Was this the kind of world that Jeongguk enjoyed when he wasn’t hanging out with you? You frown as people elbow you and bump into you as they drunkenly stagger towards the dance floor, regret rising in you as you strain your neck to see where Jeongguk is. But he’s nowhere to be found.

Actually, he’s sitting in the living room, in a corner where a few couches are clustered, sipping on his drink as he boredly ignores the chatter of the annoying girl next to him. He shakes off her arm when she gets too close, and rolls his eyes when she leaves with a huff. Jimin notices and plops down next to him. “Bro, you feeling better after the game?”

Jeongguk finishes off his cup with a glare. “What are you talking about?”

Jimin is drunk, clapping Jeongguk on the shoulder. “Well, you won, and Y/N was there to see it and all!”

Jeongguk whips his head to him. “What did you say?”

Jimin laughs again, too drunk to see his mistake. “I invited her to the game since you were too much of a little dramatic pussy to actually invite her yourself. She wore your jersey and everything!”

Jeongguk stood up, knocking Jimin off his balance. “Where is she?” But Jimin was too drunk to respond, and passed out against the couch.

“What the fuck?!” He grits out, grabbing his hair in frustration. There was a reason why he didn’t invite you to these things. It was because he didn’t want you to see how dirty these things were, and definitely after hearing what Shownu said the other day, didn’t want you fifty fucking feet near another football player.

Yugyeom, one of the nicer boys from the team pipes up from the corner. “I think she’s here, Jeongguk.” He says lowly, and Jeongguk gapes. “How the fuck did she get here?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “Not sure, but I saw her in the kitchen with Wonho hyung.”

“Fuck!” Jeongguk surges up and out of the living room with a start, and storms into the kitchen. He sees Wonho leaning into you with a smirk and offering you a cup and he runs up and knocks the red thing out of your hand before you can lift it up to your lips.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He seethes at you, and he hates how his gut clenches at your face that splits into a bright smile like a fucking thousand christmas lights. “Jeongguk!” You exclaim, as he surprises you. “Uh, Wonho here invited me.”

He turns to the smirking older male. Stepping up to him, he snarls, “You do anything to her, I’ll fucking kill you.” Wonho eyes the drink on the floor with a smirk and Jeongguk realizes with anger that the bastard had probably spiked the drink in order to win the bet. Glaring up at the male, he grabs his collar and growls, “I swear to god, you and Shownu better call off that fucking bet right now or I’ll make sure you won’t be able to say anything with that dirty little mouth of yours.”

You jump up and grab onto Jeongguk’s arm, trying to pry him off of Wonho. “Jeongguk! Jeongguk, stop, it’s not a big deal! He was just being nice!”

Wonho just sleazily smiles and yanks Jeongguk’s hands off of him. “Hear that? I was just showing her around. No need to get your panties in a twist man.” Patting his collar off, he assures the collecting crowd that everything was okay before winking at you and walking towards the cheerleaders. Jeongguk tenses up and pulls you behind him when he winks, and when Wonho disappears out of sight, turns to you with a glare. He sees you wearing his jersey, and wonders how the fuck that fell into your hands and how fate had messed up and dragged you straight into the trap that he was dreading on you witnessing.

He grabs your wrist, ignoring the way you look up at him in slight fear, and drags you outside, where it’s decently quiet, away from prying eyes.

“Ow, Jeongguk, let go!” You hiss as he finally lets go of your hand. You cradle it to you, the skin there red from his tight grip. He’s angry, and you’re not exactly sure why.

“What’s your problem? You’re the one who invited me here and you’re acting like a little ass right now!” You yell, tears pricking your eyes.

He visibly softens at the sight and steps up to try and comfort you. “Y/N, I’m sorry, that wasn’t me. One of the hyungs sent the text to you as a joke and dropped off my jersey to fool around with me.”

Your heart sank at the words. He was angry because he didn’t want you here, didn’t want people like you mixing in with his friends. He watches as your expression falls and realizes how you misunderstood his words.

“W-wait, Y/N, I didn’t mean it like that, wait,” He reaches out for your hand again, but the angry tears are already falling and you wipe them away with your hand before glaring up at him. You whip off the jersey, leaving you in only your white t-shirt and tearily croak out, “No, Jeongguk, I get what you mean.” and turn away and run down the sidewalk towards the bus stop. He catches the jersey and groans as he turns to run after you, but suddenly the music gets louder and his teammates rush him.

They lift him up on their shoulders and throw him around, “Cheers to the quarterback! Drink! drink, drink!” They shove a shot into his hands and cheer as Jeongguk downs it, but by the time he comes back out and looks for your figure, you’re gone, the bus stop empty.

What he doesn’t know is that while you were waiting at the bus stop, you were waiting for him too. One word, one action, and you were ready to apologize. But then you’re hugging yourself as the weather gets a little too cold, and someone walks up to you.

“Well, isn’t it Y/N? The bitch that’s been dragging our Jeongguk-ie around on a leash.” You look up to see Jennie and her posse of girls glaring at you in their cheerleading outfits.

You stand up, frowning. “Excuse me?”

Jennie rolls her eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, bitch. You call him your best friend and always try to get him to go on your little food truck dates. The entire school knows by now. What a joke.” Her friends titter as she smirks and continues, crossing her arms.

“Let me warn you. Stay the fuck away from him. You know he’s been missing out on some of the parties because of you? And because of that he’s also been missing out on getting to know the team and the cheer squad. And it’s all because of your stupid little dates and you dragging him to the library. Give him some space, and stop making his life into a little charity event.” With that, she turns on her heel and walks away. The bus pulls up with a screech, and you clamber on, numb and still reeling in shock.

You plop down on the seat, exhausted, and curl up in the corner and try to press yourself into as small of a ball as you can manage. Because the tears were coming, and this time, there was no one to hug you and make them go away.

Jeongguk wakes up again, recognizing the guest bedroom of the frat house, groaning as he rubs his eyes. It was 4 AM, and next to him a girl was passed out. With a glance at her face, he recognizes her as Rose, one of the girls from Jennie’s friend group and groans, realizing that this was going to cause ten times more drama than he wanted. Rolling out of bed, he grabs his clothes, a can of beer, and his phone and runs out, stepping over sleeping bodies and puddles of beer to get out of the house.

Last night was a mess. After you left, he threw himself into the alcohol, unable to man up enough to give you a call or even get in a taxi and try to find his way home, where he knows you’ll be. Because despite wanting to reach out and hug you close and reassure you that he’ll never hurt you again, is the nagging reality that literally, good girls like you deserved so much more than bad boys like him.

So he digs his hands in his pockets against the cold breeze and begins briskly walking towards home. By the time he reaches the area, the sun has begun rising and he swigs back the drink and stumbles up the stairs towards your apartment.

He collapses against it, forehead against the cool metal of your door, and bangs on it, yelling your name.

After his drunken antics, two girls open the door, that he recognizes through his haze as Jihyo, your close friend, and Nayeon, your roommate. They glare at him with squinted eyes, clearly having been woken up by his fuss.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jihyo hisses. She makes a move to shut the door, but Jeongguk grabs the handle and yanks it back. “Please,” he mutters, “I need to see her.”

Nayeon shakes her head. “She hasn’t been able to sleep all night because of you. Don’t you think it’s right to give her a little space?” When he doesn’t respond, she tries to close the door again but he slumps against the frame, croaking, “Please, please.” When they don’t budge and just glare down at him, he begins yelling drunkenly into the hall behind them. “Y/N?! Y/N! Please, please, let me explain myself!”

Jihyo and Nayeon try to wrestle the door from him, and you emerge, your eyes red and puffy from crying. He stops and freezes when he sees you, and you walk up to him, and your friends disappear into the bedrooms to give you some spac.

“What do you want, Jeongguk?” You whisper, and his heart sinks at the way your voice quivers.

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to let you see me like that there,” he mumbles, still reeling from the drink. “I never invited you cause I didn’t want them to make bets on you,” he slurs, and you frown.

“Jeongguk, what are you even saying?”

He groans, slumping against the doorway. “’m just really scared of loosing you, that’s all...I really, you’re really m’ best friend ‘nd I like--” he slumps completely, and you scramble forward to catch him. Groaning under his weight, you steady yourself and call out to Jungyeon, and together, you both manage to shove him into the elevator and walk him to his apartment before letting him collapse onto the couch. He groans and mumbles your name and turns over, and you straighten up, glaring down at him with nothing to say.

Jungyeon groans, “I swear I’m gonna fucking neuter him if he even comes across my sight again. You don’t deserve to be hurt like this, Y/N.” At the last thought, the water works begin and large tears roll down your cheeks. She coos, “Aww, Y/N,” and holds you to her as you sob again, unsure of how to feel. She guides you out the door and tucks you into your own bed, watching as you cry yourself to sleep for the second time that night. Looking at the time, it was already way too early in the morning to go back to sleep, so she shakes Jihyo up and storms out of the house with a glare of determination.

“Okay, spit it out Park Jimin,” she snaps, crossing her arms at the frightened boy. “Or else I’ll literally grab the scissors over there in the cashier’s cup and jam it down your crotch.” Jimin glances nervously at the said cup and shakingly crosses his legs, cupping his family jewels.

“W-what’s going on?”

Jihyo rolls her eyes. “Oh, you know what’s going on. Why did you prank Y/N like that? We know you sent her the text with Jeongguk’s phone.”

He recalls the incident and winces. “Oh shit, my bad. It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.”

Jihyo glares, leaning forward with a glare. “My bad? My bad is what you say when you come and go to sleep before I even get a chance to take my pants off. My bad is what assholes like you say when you make a tiny mistake, not screw someone’s entire reputation and life over!”

He holds his hands up in defense. “Okay, okay! Jeez, you’ll never let me live down that moment ever, won’t you?” Sighing, he leans forward. “I only sent that text to her because Jeongguk was being a little pussy. He clearly likes Y/N.”

Jungyeon stops, “Huh?”

Jimin nods, “He got really mad when Shownu and Wonho made a bet on who can get into a nerd’s pants first. So when Shownu asked Jeongguk to set him up with Y/N, he flipped.”

Jungyeon curls her lip in a sneer. “You guys are literally, so disgusting.”

Jimin nods sheepishly. “Well, I wasn’t part of it, so...yeah. But anyways, Jeongguk really likes her but he mentioned that he can’t make a move because he doesn’t want her to get a bad reputation from him. Did you guys say something to him that made him think like that?”

Jihyo frowns, “Uh...well like we do tell her that she deserves better than him, like, practically everyday.”

Jimin groans. “Of course you do. And you literally convinced him to back off from Y/N, when all of us know that they really like eachother.”

Jungyeon and Jihyo exchange guilty looks. “Well,” Jungyeon pipes up, “Jeongguk isn’t really doing a great job of convincing us he can treat Y/N better otherwise, so, there’s that!”

Jimin shakes his head. “Trust me, he’s a really good kid. It’s just that when he’s with the team, the older guys sort of pressure him to drink and go get girls and it just sort of happens.” He shrugs, “That’s the entire environment of the team. But trust me, Jeongguk is one of the more conservative ones and has started sleeping around less with anyone since he started hanging out so much with Y/N. The whole Jennie thing was a mistake. He does it often when he gets stressed out or mad.”

Jihyo sighs, “You can’t expect us to think a guy like that is okay for our friend, do you?”

Jimin shakes his head. “You know, I can’t convince you that he’s good enough for Y/N. Cause to be honest, from what I’ve seen, she’s a great girl and practically no one I know is good enough for her.” Your friends nod in agreement. “But what you have to do is trust her, that she likes Jeongguk for a reason and keeps him around for a good reason.”

They exchange looks as they nod slowly, uncrossing their arms.

“Hey, Y/N,” someone calls out, and you break out of your thoughts while sitting alone at the library. It felt too empty and cold there to get any work done anyway. When you catch sight of Jimin coming your way you sigh and turn back to your work.

“Woah, hey, hey. Please just give me a listen. Let me explain myself.”

You turn to him with a tired expression. “Explain what?”

He sits down, facing you with a solemn expression. “I-I just wanted to apologize.”

You lift your eyebrow and he continues. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like a prank. Jeongguk had just been moping around all day and not confronting his feelings for you and so I just wanted to help him out a little. I had no idea he wouldn’t notice you were at the game, and no idea you would come to the party.”

You run a hand through your hair. “I don’t really care about the text thing Jimin. I’m angry because of how Jeongguk acted at the party and how he’s just treating me like I don’t belong.”

He sighs, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t you understand? You don’t belong.” He raises a hand to stop you from cutting in as he continues, “You’re so much better and kinder and smarter than all of us, and people like us don’t deserve to hang out with girls like you. That’s why, Y/N, that’s why he didn’t want you to come to the party, because guys like Wonho were betting on who could get you into bed the fastest.”

“Th-they did what? A bet?!” You stutter, your breath coming out in short gasps.

He nods, “Yeah. They’re the seniors on our team so no one really says anything about it but they’re really douchebags.”

You think to how oddly nice Wonho was to you and scoff. They were really trashy human beings.

He leaves with a final statement. “Trust me, Jeongguk cares for you. But sometimes, people like you deserve better, so people like us try to stay away.”

Jeongguk stares down at the jersey in his hands, it still smelling slightly of your natural scent, and he fists the material as he grits his teeth. He missed you like crazy. Jimin had woken him up this morning and told him what chaos he made at 4 AM in the morning at your house and Jeongguk was so fucking pissed because even if he tried to, he couldn’t stay away from you.

“C’mon team, let’s go!” The coach yells and whistles and Jeongguk shrugs on his original game jersey on with a grimace, pulling on his helmet and mouthguard. He jogs out with his team, the stands erupting in cheers as the team runs out.

The team huddles and the coach reads out instructions for their plan of attack. Jeongguk was on the offense again this time as the quarterback. He zones out a bit as they yell coordinates, and Jimin pats him on the back.

“Hey, Jeongguk, you okay?”

He shakes his head, and Jimin pats his helmet. “Hey, do your best okay? She’s here.” He jogs away as Jeongguk whips off his helmet and mouthguard, and he turns around and scans the bleachers filled with people.

But there are too many people in the stands, and he can’t find you and his coach yells his name before he can jog over to see where you are.

You watch him from the sidelines, a hat stuffed over your eyes as you watch him hesitate as his eyes scan the bleachers. You duck your head even further until he runs off and joins his team and look back at him, the blaring 58 zipping across the field to take center position. Jimin had told you that Jeongguk was avoiding you because he felt like he wasn’t good enough, and if he was telling the truth, you were here to give Jeongguk one last chance.

All you wanted was some honesty. Because he probably had no idea how much you loved him, and how much you were willing to forgive everything he had done as long as he was willing to work with you.

Your mind wanders as the game progresses, drowning out the cheers and screams from the stands. You pick at the holes on your jeans as you watch the game progress, and get up to grab a drink. You step down the metals steps and slowly make your way to the concession stand, making sure to keep your cap low over your eyes.

Suddenly, a hand grabs you and whirls you around. You gasp in surprise as you spin around to see Wonho smirking down at you.

“Going somewhere?” He sleazily grins down at you, scanning your body shamelessly.

You yank your wrist out of his hand and face him with as fierce of a glare as you can muster. “Get the fuck away from me Wonho,” you hiss.

“Ooh, feisty,” he mewls, an arm slipping around your waist.

But you grab it and crack his fingers towards his wrist, and he yelps with a growl, and tries to get out of your grip, when you kick him right in the crotch. Jeongguk had once taught you to aim there in self defense. He groans and falls to his knees, clutching at his balls. “What the actual fuck,” he groans and glares up at you. You glare at him, and grab your drink and walk away with a smirk. “If I ever catch you doing shit like those stupid ass bets again on other women, I’ll quick you so hard you’ll never be able to fuck again.”

You walk out to the bleachers, expecting to see the game proceeding as usual, but no players are out running and are huddled at the corner of the field. You tap a girl who’s whispering with her friends. “Hey, I’m sorry, what happened?”

“Jeon Jeongguk got hurt!” She exclaims, pointing at the huddle. “The other quarterback ran into him really hard and he’s not getting up.

You drop your drink as you sprint towards the middle, but the fence prevents you from from running onto the field. You watch desperately as players and medics scurry around Jeongguk.

“Is it a concussion, coach?” One of the players asks.

The medic shakes his head. “I don’t think so. But I have no idea why he’s suddenly so weak.”

Jimin scrambles down and pats Jeongguk’s cheek. “Hey! Get up! Y/N is here! You can’t give up right now!” Jeongguk opens his eyes and pants heavily. Jimin helps him sit up, “There you go, she’s right there!” He points towards you and you watch as they yell something at Jeongguk before helping him up and point at you. You’re confused because you can’t hear anything, but Jeongguk nods at whatever Jimin yelled and gets up slowly, grabs a drink, and then faces you.

Everything stops, when he finally sets his sight on you, and he can see the worry on your face from halfway across the field. You’re gripping onto the fence and straining to see him. He musters up his courage, ignoring the way he was winded when the other quarterback slammed a bit too hard. But he was okay, and seeing you made everything even better. He smiles, and waves at you, and you burst into tears at the sight, relieved that he’s okay.

With that, he turns and grabs his helmet, his members encouraging him as he joins once again on the field.

He leans down, hands coming down to grip the grass. He remembers how you looked at him, desperate to see if he was okay. Jimin grunts out something, “Go get her, Jeongguk!” And begins yelling out instructions for the team. “Alright, 62, hike!”

“Right right right!” “Lets...go!” “Hold your block, hold it!” “Go!”

The whistle blows and the players rush at each other as the timer begins. Jeongguk grunts as he runs with the ball straight towards the goal post, and players jump and fall behind him, trying to grab his tail. His linebackers slam into the other boys, their shoulders slamming against shoulder pads and grunts echoing across the field.

He yells as he strains his legs to run as fast as he can, the time ticking as the game draws to a close in a few seconds. Grunts and yells echo behind him, but he can’t think of anything else as he runs and runs towards the two yellow bars in front of him. He tumbles as he runs past the white line on the grass, and the bleachers erupt in cheers as he makes it past the yard line the moment the clock buzzes 0.

But he drops the ball and doesn’t stop running, making a U-turn from the end of the field to come running straight to the bleachers. His teammates yell out for him, jogging after him towards the bleachers, but he doesn’t stop, because he has his sights on you.

He whips off his helmet, and finds you behind the fence, which he hops without a blink, and waits until he’s in front of you. You’re looking up at him with trembling lips and teary eyes, and he smiles down at you, you’re seriously the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He runs the last few steps and grabs you by the waist, lifting you clear off the stands and pressing you to his body. You begin crying, blubbering as he spins you and sets you down on the dirt of the field and leans down to hug you, a strong arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from collapsing and another pressed on the middle of your back, pressing your chest to his.

And he sets you down, ignoring the whoops and hollers behind him. He cradles your cheek in his hand, leaning down to smile at you. You blubber, “Are you okay? You’re feeling okay? Jeon Jeongguk, I swear you had me worried sick I thought-”

He smiles and whips off your cap, swoops down, interrupting your crying, and presses his lips hard against yours. You gasp into the kiss as he swipes past your lips, moving his lips against yours with desperation and joy and happiness. He grits against your lips, his smile so wide he can’t kiss you properly. “I like you, Y/N. No, I think I love you. And I’ve been so stupid because I don’t deserve you. But I also don’t ever want to see you walk away from me again. I’m gonna fight for you.”

You smile up at him, tears still streaming down. “A-are you sure?”

He smiles, leaning down to capture your lips in another breathtaking kiss.

“I’m so sure.”

It’s the night of your one-year anniversary with Jeongguk, the first week of senior year, and you’re currently at his house to work on a group project together.

Correction: you’re currently making out with your boyfriend on his couch, the assignment forgotten on the kitchen table.

He groans as you perch on his lap and peck his lips teasingly, his hands coming up to grab your waist as a warning. You giggle and hold his cheeks as you lean down to press your lips hard against his, dipping your tongue against his lower lip and then nipping at it, earning another warning. “Y/N...”

You smile as you wrap your arms around him, and situate yourself a little more comfortably on his lap, while, is currently trying his hardest not to spring up a boner at the feeling of you wiggling your ass into his lap. His hands are on your waist though, and his body betrays him because he subconsciously digs his fingers into the small of your waist and presses you closer against his chest. He practically melts at how soft you are and how warm you feel against him, and tries to hold himself back. Even though it’d been a year since you’d made it official, and a blissful year at that, he’d been careful on how far you two went. He knew you had boundaries that you were careful about, and never wanted you to feel pressured into taking your relationship a bit further.

But with the way you kissed him and pressed your breasts to his chest and wiggled your hips against his crotch, his dick was saying otherwise.

“Fuck, Y/N, if you keep this up, I’m not gonna be able to stop,” he groans as he distracts himself by kissing down your jaw, licking hesitantly at the crook near your ear, making you sigh above him.

You hesitate, thinking about how hard you thought about regarding taking your relationship with Jeongguk further. You were still a little scared, because you’d initially wanted to take it to the next step a while ago, but you also wanted to go slow. And on this night, when the moon was high up in the air and some stupid episode of some TV show was blaring in the background of his house, you were way, way too much in love with this man underneath you to think about anything else. It was the perfect moment.

You lean down, kissing him desperately. He groans again, and you detach from him, smiling down at him and thumbing his swollen lips and giggling at his blushing cheeks and overblown pupils.

“I-I think I’m ready.”

“W-What?” If possible, his eyes get even wider and his cheeks blush scarlet red as he gapes up at you.

“I love you, Jeon Jeongguk.” His hand comes up to swipe your hair away from your face, and he smiles. “I love you too. Are you sure?”

You lean down and wrap your arms around him, smiling as he lifts you up and carries you towards his bedroom.

In this moment, when his arms are around you and you’re in just your pajamas and he in his, everything feels so right.

“I’m so sure.”

#fics #bts fluff #bts fics #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fics #jungkook angst #bts angst #jungkook scenarios #bts scenario #bts fic #bts fanfic #jungkook fan fics #jungkook fanfics #jungkook imagines #jungkook drabble #football!au #jock!au #smut

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those-bulletproof-boys · 7 years

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LOL Prince AU for Yoongi

Lol so remember that time i was all jazzed about writing a prince au for yoongi and it was gonna be long af lol that didnt happen i got discouraged and never finished it but i teased it a heck ton for yall and even tho im never gonna finish it I thought yall deserved to at least get what I had because like idk i teased it you should get a little bit e ven tho it prob wont ever get any longer. Sorry. Its really fucking long cuz I was planning on breaking it up but i cant be bothered so if youw anna read it go ahead if you dont thats ok. Love yall!! <3

Published: October 31st, 2017

Word count: ~14,459 Words

{Also I haven’t read this since I posted it and I didnt edit it obvi so like its gonna be shit just be prepared.}

“Your highness, it’s time for you to wake up.”

Yoongi squeezed his eyes closed against the sudden light that surrounded him that he recognized as the maid opening the curtains of his bed chamber. He groaned and flipped onto his stomach to press his face into the pillow that had been under his head all night.

“Your highness, I’ve been instructed to awaken you.”

The voice came again, but it sounded closer. Yoongi sighed and removed his face from the pillow before turning to look around the room and spot the owner of the voice. His hair fell into his face and he could feel his loose sleep-shirt hanging off his shoulder.

The voice itself had been unfamiliar to Yoongi, but the face was definitely someone that he had never seen before. The girl that stood 4 feet from Yoongi’s bed, with eyes as large as the mood at his sudden movements, had hair that fell in curtains around her face. Her eyes were bright and, at the moment, full of...was it fear?

Immediately, the girl fell into a curtsey, her head bowed and her hair falling over her face. “Good morning, your highness,” She said quietly.

Yoongi just looked at the girl before him. “I’m awake,” he said in a monotone voice.

The servant looked up, “I beg your pardon, your highness?”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Your job is to wake me up. I’m awake.” She blinked. “You can leave now,” he finished with a pointed look.

Her mouth opened and closed before she understood his words and rushed out the door. Yoongi let out a sigh before the door flung open again and the girl was back. She frantically curtsied and flew out the door again, clearly still flustered.

Yoongi chuckled as he raised his arms over his head and began stretching, pulling himself into the world of the awake.

“Ah Yoongi, good morning,” An older man called from the head of the table as servant flitted around him, bringing and taking away plates from around him, constantly.

Yoongi looked around as he walked through the doors into the elaborate dining hall. The table before him could easily hold up to 30 guests, but only 2 places were set. He made his way to the end of the room before taking his seat next to his father. “Good morning, Father,” he responded as he continued to try to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

A servant placed a large plate of breakfast foods before Yoongi and he picked at it with his fork and knife, his mind wandering to other lands. “Yoongi?” His father called.

Yoongi continued eating, not hearing the voice calling his name.

“Yoongi?” He called, a bit louder.

Yoongi’s eyes cleared and he turned to look at the man next to him. “Yes, sir?”

His father looked at him. “Is your mind elsewhere, son?” Yoongi nodded reluctantly, his eyes apologetic. “Very well, but your first lesson is in Mathematics and I would advise against such daydreaming until World Geography.” Yoongi nodded reflexively as his father swallowed the last bite of food on his plate and stood up, his shoulders broad and strong.

Yoongi stood respectfully as his father turned to him. “Good day, son,” the older man said. Yoongi watched the servants bow to him as he walked out of the room, but as soon as the door was closed, he slumped back into his seat and resumed picking at his food, dreading the day ahead.

As much as he tried to hold it back, his mind eventually began to wander as his mathematics lesson dragged on and on. Mathematics had never been his strong point, and no matter how hard he tried, he knew that it would always be one of his weaknesses, not a good thing if you’re expected to govern a country someday and deal with it’s financials.

Every since Yoongi could remember, he could remember spending his entire mornings at lessons for anything and everything, changing every day. Supposedly they were all supposed to teach him how to take after his father, the King, when he died, Yoongi couldn’t even imagine his father passing away because of the strong grip that he constantly had on the country that had grown to rely on him for everything. If he died, everything would collapse...unless Yoongi was able to take over seamlessly.

“Prince Yoongi?”

Yoongi looked up to see his teacher waiting for his answer and his face grew red in embarrassment, knowing that his mind had travelled to a foreign land.

His teacher sighed.

The only class that could truly capture Yoongi’s attention was, contrary to his father, World Geography. Learning about the world around him and all the places, that he hoped to be able to visit someday, banished any other thoughts away, keeping his mind in place. From the moment he walked into the lesson, his teacher had his entire attention.

He walked out of that class, his last for the day, and slowly began to make his way back to his room until his sword wielding lesson in an hour. As he made his way through the castle, maids and servants here and there would stop their actions and curtsey, but none of the faces were familiar. The walk to his bed chamber blurred together and before he knew it he stood at his door, his hand on the handle.

Lazily, he turned the piece of metal under his hand and swung the door open. It took a few moments until his eyes registered the other body in the room, dusting the top of his dresser. His eyes widened at the sight, mainly because his room was always already clean by the time he came back, and he squinted, trying to see which servant had been taking so long at their job.

Her back was towards him and he couldn’t see anything except her long hair that fell down the back of her uniform. Impatiently, Yoongi coughed into his palm, trying to pull the girl’s attention towards him.

Immediately, the figure spun around, her mouth open in shock and her eyes as wide as they had been this morning. Her head dropped after half a second as she dropped into a curtsey, but Yoongi had already seen her face and recognized her as the maid that had come to wake him up that morning.

“Your highness,” Her voice cracked, clearly from nerves, “I’m so sorry, I’m behind schedule and haven’t finished with your bedroom.”

Yoongi looked her up and down as he focused on the rag in her right hand and the black smudges, presumably from his fireplace, that went up her left arm. Her head was still bowed and Yoongi rolled his eyes.

“What’s your name,” He asked as he began walking towards her.

With her head still bent, she responded in a surprisingly steady voice, “My name is Y/n, your highness.”

“Why are you behind schedule?” Yoongi asked, his voice flat.

Y/n gulped, “I–”

Yoongi interrupted her, “Look at me,” He said sternly. Slowly she raised her head and looked at Yoongi with the bright eyes that he had seen this morning, but now they shook with growing fear.

Slowly, she breathed out and started her sentence again. “I am behind schedule because I am not yet used to my chores, your highness.”

Yoongi nodded. “Are you part of the recently hired help?” he asked, his eyes studying her face for any hint of familiarity that could show that she had been here longer.

Y/n nodded, “Yes, sir, I started work yesterday.”

The boy took a step forward until he stood inches in front of y/n. Her eyes dropped immediately by reflex and Yoongi sighed. He leaned head down until his lips were centimeters from her ear as she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to turn away. “Next time, be out of my room by the time I’m done with my lessons,” He said, venom lacing through his voice as his exhaustion that had built throughout the morning was released to an innocent maid. Y/n’s head snapped up as Yoongi took a step back, her eyes wide with fear and her lips parted slightly, like she was about to say something.

“You can leave now,” He said tiredly. He watched as Y/n curtsied, her eyes back on the carpet, and walked out the door, her arm still stained with soot.

A breath made its way out of Yoongi’s mouth as he fell onto his bed, letting his eyes close and his body melt into the cushions beneath him to rest.

Another unfamiliar voice snuck its way into Yoongi’s ears the next morning. The night before, he had been up late, and now his body was cursing him, begging for more sleep. “Your highness, it’s time to wake up,” it said.

Yoongi was sure that he had never heard that voice before and decidedly pulled his blanket up over his head, efficiently blocking out the noise. “Your highness?” The voice came again, a bit less timid and Yoongi groaned.

“Go away!” He shouted in a groggy voice from under the fabric. Frantic footsteps receded into the distance and Yoongi smiled at his small victory before turning and burrowing the side of his face into his pillow again.

Abruptly, the door to Yoongi’s bedroom opened again and slow, timid steps made their way to his bed. Convinced that it was the same servant as before, Yoongi groaned before throwing the quilts off himself and pulling himself into a sitting position, a snarl on his face. His hair sat in a knotted nest on top of his head and his undershirt was untied, showing the upper part of his chest and his collarbones.

Y/n jumped at the sudden movement and stared at the boy before her with wide eyes that Yoongi had grown accustomed to. Yoongi stared at them, blinking. Apparently they had sent in y/n to wake him when the other maid could not. Seconds passed as they stared at eachother before y/n dropped to a curtsey, her eyes back to focusing on her toes.

“Prince Yoongi, I’ve been sent to awaken you.”

Yoongi blinked at the first usage of his name with his title to come from her mouth and it took him a moment to compose himself, because every servant in the castle referred to him as “Your majesty.”

“I’m awake,” He said, repeating his words from yesterday, but with less bite in his voice.

“Very well, your majesty,” She said as she curtsied and left the room.

Minutes passed as Yoongi sat, with his chin in his hands, staring at the place that y/n had stood just a little while before. Before anymore servants could tell him to get up, he stepped out of bed and began to dress for the day.

As soon as Yoongi stepped through his door, his eyes landed on y/n standing just a few feet away from the door, her hands clasped together, her eyes lowered. Slowly, she curtsied without raising her eyes. “Your majesty,” She said, her voice steadier than normal.

Yoongi closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose before letting it out and opening his eyes. He raised his hand to rub between his eyes, already tired moments after waking up. “Wait until I’ve already left to go into my room to clean. Don’t wait at the door; I should never see you. Be invisible, y/n,” The prince said before brushing past her and started down the path to the breakfast table without looking back.

He’d only walked a few feet when he heard a small, “Yes, your majesty,” Come from behind him and heard his bedroom door open and close. A small smile appeared on his usually stoic face and a maid’s eyes widened at the change from a few feet away as she dusted the corridor’s ornamentations.

“Son?”

The king’s voice broke through Yoongi’s head on the third try and his eyes snapped up to his father’s immediately. The line of thought that had been traveling through Yoongi’s brain was immediately broken off. “Yes, sir?” The boy responded.

His mind had been traveling to the events of that morning, trying to piece together why he hadn’t just fired y/n when she clearly wouldn’t be able to perform her chores properly. Yoongi had never had any trouble firing insufficient help, but something about y/n restrained that reflexive reaction.

“What is it with you spacing out lately?” His father said impatiently, not bothering to continue with his previous thought.

Yoongi dropped his head. “I just have a lot on my mind at the moment. I’m sorry, Father.” The king nodded as he took a bite of food. Yoongi looked up tentatively, “What are my lessons today, Father?” He asked, curious as to why his father hadn’t assigned anything yet.

The king’s head sat, resting on his hands as he sighed. “Nothing today, Yoongi. Some things are going on and I didn’t have time to plan anything. Just study what you know, for today.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened at the unfamiliar response before a grin split across his face and he leaped from his seat. He quickly bowed to his father, and rushed out of the room, his body light and happy. Immediately, he made his way to the back doors, commonly used by the help, and ran through them, heading towards the stables. His breathing was heavy, but his heart was light and he hadn’t felt this happy or free in months.

A ragged breath tumbled from his mouth as he slowed to a walk and opened the doors of the stables. A man, tending to the horses, was the first thing in his field of vision. The man turned around, surprised at the sudden intrusion before falling to a bow.

“Your majesty, how can I help you today?” He asked, his eyes focused on the ground in front of his feet.

Yoongi’s heart continued to beat heavily as his wide eyes stared around the large building, its familiar smells filling his nose. “Where is Holly?”

The man straightened and nodded before walking down the aisle between stalls. “Follow me, your highness; she’s right this way, her morning bath has just finished and she has been eating well.”

Yoongi’s smile grew, a sight that the man was familiar with whenever a conversation was about the Prince’s horse. “Thank you for taking special care of her,” Yoongi said, bowing his head slightly towards the man in appreciation. The man’s cheeks filled with color at the kind words and continued walking.

Moments later, they both stopped before a large stall with a sign that read “Holly” on the door. Yoongi’s smile leaked into his eyes as he stared at the horse that brought him such happiness. Slowly he stepped towards the door that separated him from his animal, his face alight, and pressed himself against the bars. As if my instinct, Holly looked up from her eating to see the Prince at her door.

The stable hand stepped away, confident that the prince knew how to saddle himself up for his impending ride. The worker was always surprised to see this side of the prince whenever he came to the stables. He had heard of the fear that he struck into the workers in the castle, but every time that he had seen the prince, his face had been happy and lit with a smile; the worker felt honored to experience this side of the boy.

He turned to walk away when he heard the prince’s voice. “Thank you for taking care of her, again.” The boy’s voice was soft, and the servant turned to see him stroking the horse's face through the bars, his eyes full of adoration.

The man bowed before responding. “It is my pleasure your majesty.”

As the man disappeared into another stall at the other side of the room, Yoongi grabbed the key that hung by the door of the stall that he stood in front of and excitedly opened the lock. Immediately the door slid open and Yoongi rushed in to embrace his equestrian friend. Instead of backing away, as most horses would at the sudden movements, Holly moved just as fast to meet the young prince.

“Oh Holly,” Yoongi breathed against her mane as he pressed his face into the side of her neck, “I’ve missed you. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner, Father has had me busy with Mathematics and other classes.”

Holly snorted in disgust and a laugh tumbled from Yoongi’s mouth.

“I feel the same way, but he said I have nothing to do today. Would you like to go for a ride in the forest?” A whinnie of agreement met Yoongi’s ears and his cheeks began to hurt from smiling too much.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Holly stood completely still as Yoongi did his own work to prepare her for a ride. His father would let a servant saddle his horse for him, but Yoongi preferred to handle Holly himself.

Minutes later, Yoongi was atop his house, galloping across the acres of land that surrounded the castle, reveling in the wind that blew across his face and the feeling that he was free to ride wherever he wanted.

As soon as he disappeared into the treeline, the air around Yoongi became colder, combined with the wind that was created from the speed at which he was traveling and soon he was shivering, but didn’t dare stop. Holly wanted to continue as much as he did, begging for more speed. Although the stable hands fed and washed her well, she received very little exercise, usually in the form of a walk around the property–nothing close to this speed.

The path through the trees winded on the uneven ground, but both knew it like they knew each other. Yoongi barely needed to touch Holly to get her to go in the right direction. Half an hour passed and Yoongi could feel Holly growing tired under the intense running. Slowly he began pulling back on the reigns until Holly slowed to a walk, breaths tearing out of her as well as Yoongi. The sun hours away from high noon, and the air around Yoongi, dark by the intense foliage, was cool against his sweat covered skin. Holly walked for a few minutes until they came to a familiar clearing. As usual, Holly had grown tired near the same place she always did, and after a few minutes of walking they would come upon the place that Yoongi called home more than the palace.

As Yoongi dismounted, Holly nudged him impatiently. With a smile, the boy pulled out a handful of oats, that he had stolen from the stable, from his pocket and held them out to his horse. As a safety precaution, Yoongi slid the reigns over a low hanging branch from a nearby tree. He sighed, happily, as he turned to the large tree that loomed larger and taller than all the rest. Although all the trees in the clearing were ideal climbing trees, this was clearly the king.

Eagerly, he rushed to the trunk of the tree and became enveloped in its intense shadow caused by thick foliage. He untucked his shirt from his pants and shed his heavy, royal jacket before latching his hands onto the lowest branch, almost 7 feet above the ground, and pulling himself up to that his arms held his waist even with the branch.

Although Yoongi looked slight on the outside, the intense training working with swords that his father required had created muscles that disappeared under his daily clothes but reappeared in times of need. Even apart from that training, Yoongi himself worked out, longing to be stronger. Although he knew that no one in the palace would dare to endanger his life, he had heard of citizens and commoners fighting back to soldiers and endangering the lives of other royals.

Reflexively, Yoongi pulled his right leg up to rest comfortably on the branch that he had pulled himself up to. After this, most of the branches were fairly close to each other. As familiar and comfortable as a stairway, Yoongi made his way up the tree, staying close to the trunk and stepping on branches that were sturdy and stay away from those that weren’t. He had learned the difference through experience.

A breeze flowed around Yoongi as the blanches became sparser and sparser and the trunk thinned. What had started at a 5 foot diameter had become barely 2 feet wide. The wind that blew began to make the tree sway under his feet, a feeling that he had grown accustomed to through many adventures.

A few feet later, Yoongi came to the part of the tree where all but a few branches fell away. A large branch was in front of him and easily, he took a seat on it, completely comfortable. Through the minimal leaves, Yoongi could see the forest surrounding him and in the distance was the parapets of the castle, sticking into the sky. The wind engulfed Yoongi and he lazily closed his eyes as he wrapped his arm around the tree trunk to steady himself. To his right, a 90 degrees difference compared to the castle, Yoongi knew was the people’s town. None of the buildings stuck past the tops of the trees but from knowledge of the land’s geography and the obvious gap in the trees indicated its existence.

Ever since Yoongi had first seen the town on a map, he had wanted to see it for himself, and ever since he had see it with his own eyes from this vantage point, he had longed to walk its streets.

Time passed and soon the young princes hair had become a complete nest by the wind and the sun stood at high noon in the clear sky. Reluctantly, Yoongi began making his way back down the tree to the ground, hating every step from this safe space. Although getting out of the castle and into the forest was uncommon, he came here almost every time to clear his thoughts of the royal affairs that constantly hung over his head.

Although slightly out of breath, Yoongi felt relaxed as his feet hit hard-packed dirt. Immediately, he felt something tug on his hair and turned to see Holly walking behind him to follow his head and nibble his hair affectionately.

“Holly!” Yoongi laughed as he tried to reach behind himself and pull his locks free from her mouth. She only nickered in response and Yoongi giggled as her lips brushed against the back of his neck, touching the tickling part of his body. A laugh spilled out of his lips and he pulled out of Holly’s grip. He pulled the horse into an embrace with a smile on his face.

Languidly, Yoongi pulled himself into the saddle after feeding Holly another handful of oats. At a slower pace than they had traveled at on their way there, they set off to go back to the castle.

An hour later, Yoongi slid off the back of his ride and stood beside her heavily breathing frame. “Good girl,” He cooed at she led her to the closest stable hand, a familiar face, and handed her off to have a wash and be fed well after a final farewell kiss from her prince.

Relaxedly, the boy made his way to the front of the castle and walked through the door that were held open by a pair of guards, seemingly ready and waiting for his arrival.

As soon as he had stepped through the doors, the scents of lunch wafted up to his nose and his mouth began watering. He pushed the doors to the dining hall open and his eyes grew wide at the large display of meats and vegetables along with drinks and sweets. At the head of the table sat his father, already burying his face in an abnormally large piece of meat.

“Wow, Father this looks amazing,” Yoongi said as he made his way to his usual seat at his father’s side. The older man looked up barely focusing on his son.

“Ah, Yoongi you’re here” His father asked, a drop of grease from his meat making it’s way down his chin as he picked up his cup of wine and took a deep drink, his eyes glassy, seemingly unable to focus on anything before him.

Yoongi collapsed into his seat beside the older man with a smile and took a moment to respond. “It is gorgeous today, Father, the woods are beautiful as so is the sky.”

A tiny smile grew on the King’s face and they sat in silence for a few moments, the King clearly deep in thought as Yoongi began digging into his own plate of food.

Abruptly, the king spoke again. “I must go,” he said before standing up and stepping away from his chair.

Yoongi looked up, confused. Normally, his father spent much longer at the meals than he did, arriving before him and leaving long after. “Father?”

The king nodded, ignoring the questioning tone in his son’s voice, but even Yoongi knew that something must be happening for his father to act this way. He walked towards the door and before Yoongi knew it, he was steps away as it was being opened for him.

“Father, what is the schedule for the afternoon?” Yoongi called, just a second too late as the door closed behind his father’s figure. He fell against the back of his chair, confused by his father’s actions; usually at their lunch together, he would be told his schedule for the afternoon, similar to breakfast. He couldn’t remember his father ever just walking out on him during lunch without any information.

Every blue moon, the king would let his son have a morning off, releasing him from the grueling lessons and boring interactions. It was times like these when Yoongi would explore the palace grounds in depth or spend hours with Holly or just wandered through the most secret parts of the castle, but never before had the King left him an empty afternoon. Although his mind was curious as to his father’s actions, he wasn’t about to let an afternoon pass him by.

He stood from his place at the table and began to make his way towards the door. Servants avoided him as they began to walk towards the table to clean it up, their lips loose with gossip now that the king was gone. Normally he could ignore the gossip, but a familiar name caught his ear from the mouth of a younger woman as she began to pick up the plate of ham.

“I walked past Y/n today while she was working; she’s so behind I don’t think she’s going to make it here,” The woman said, shaking her head impatiently.

Her friend, a larger woman that had begun to clear the wine glasses tsked her tongue. “What a poor child, this is so important to her.”

Yoongi realized that he had stopped mid step while listening to the women’s conversation. Before they could notice him, Yoongi rushed out the door of the dining hall, his eyebrows furrowed.

The words slowly disappears from his consciousness as he began to walk towards his room, desperate to wash up after his ride, and excited to have the rest of the day to himself.

Happiness was coursing through his veins so intensely as he opened the door to his bedroom that he didn’t even register the second person inside when he walked through, closed the door behind him, and began removing his shirt to prepare to wash up.

He curled his fists into the fabric that rested against his shoulder blades and tugged the shirt over his head so that it sat in his hands in front of his torso.

A shriek sounded from the other side of the room and Yoongi jumped before looking up, surprised. A familiar girl in a maid’s uniform stood cowering against the curtains that sat to the sides of the large window at one end of the prince’s room. A feather duster was held in one hand while the other covered her eyes.

Yoongi’s wide eyes returned to normal size as he groaned. “Why are you still here?” He said as he casually threw his dirty shirt onto his freshly made bed.

Y/n kept her hand over her eyes before curtsying. “I’m sorry, your highness, cleaning the curtains has taken more time than I expected. I’ll be leaving,” She said before curtseying again. She removed her hand from her eyes, but kept it at an angle so as to shield herself from seeing him.

“Are you done?”

Y/n looked up at the sudden words from her superior, forgetting that he was shirtless and suddenly finding it hard to figure out where to look. “Pardon me?” She asked, her voice trembling.

Yoongi sighed, “Are you done cleaning the curtains?” He scanned the room impatiently, “Or the fireplace for that matter? It looks filthy.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed and her breathing shook. “Unfortunately, Prince Yoongi, I have not finished either of those tasks. I am still unfamiliar with cleaning your bedroom and have yet to learn how to work effectively.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes and suppressed the way that his heart jumped when she said his name. “I could have you fired, you know. Most maids we pick have already learned this by the time they start. You should’ve been done long before I got here; what did I tell you about being invisible, y/n.”

Terror flashed across y/n’s eyes as she dropped to her knees reflexively, staring straight into Yoongi’s eyes. “No, your majesty, please. I need this job, I promise that I will do better in the future.”

Yoongi’s eyes softened at the girl’s readiness to protect her station and his mind flitted back to the gossip that he had heard in the dining hall. A breath escaped his lips, “Get back to work. I hope that you’re done by the time that I come back out.” He turned on his heel and walked into his bathroom before closing the door and pouring the already prepared and properly heated water into his tub. He finished stripping before stepping into the water and washing all the thoughts scattered around his head away.

As the time passed, Yoongi heard y/n’s actions in the other room through the door. At first he could hear her trying to get the dust off the curtains and moments later would hear the clang of a metal poker hitting the metal fireplace grate.

Although his bath was normally silent, the noise from the other room was unusually enjoyable, trying to guess what she was working on based on the different sounds.

Yoongi sighed contentedly as he fastened the front of his new undershirt closed and pulled a new jacket over it after stepping from his bath and pulling on trousers. His hand reached out to grab the handle of the door to his bedchamber but hesitated. Seconds passed as he stood, waiting for any sounds to indicate that y/n was still in the room as he knew that the sounds had stopped a few minutes ago. Finally, he turned the handle decidedly after taking a deep breath, and strode confidently through the door.

His eyes scanned the room, expecting to see y/n somewhere, dusting something, but instead only saw a flash of a skirt whisk through his main door and heard the door close.

Refreshed, he walked over to his window overlooking the garden and pondered what he could do for the rest of his rare free afternoon.

Yoongi’s hand wrapped around the knob of his door and he pulled on it, opening it reveal the hall in his wing of the castle. He scanned the hall around him and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that no one else was there.

Slowly, the prince walked down the corridor before turning down a hall and following the familiar path to a bedroom that sat unused in the opposite wing of the castle. The dining hall, his father’s bedchamber, Yoongi’s bed chamber, and the servants quarters were all in the west wing, and when he wanted alone time, Yoongi tended to either go to the forest, the stables, or the east wing.

His boots made no sound as he walked down the carpeted hall that he knew ran parallel to the face of the palace. If he was to peek into one of the many bedrooms on the right side of this hall, a window would sit across from the door and show the gardens that sit behind the Palace, but one of these bedrooms was not where Yoongi was headed. Occasionally, though, as he walked, he would hear the whispered voices inside one of these rooms. His excess of his time allowed him to stop and listen whenever he heard anything he wanted to listen to. Usually, the voices would just be complaining about their lack of a love life or how much their back ached from cleaning fireplaces, but at one point, he heard his own name.

“I can’t believe y/n has been sent to wake up the prince two days in a row,” The voice said, annoyance clearly lacing her voice.

Another, lower, voice was introduced, an equal amount of distaste evident. “Isn’t it like her first week working here? Who decided that as her job; I’ve been working here for years and I’ve only seen the prince’s face in passing.”

A gasp sounded from the woman with the higher voice. “You’ve seen him up close? I’m almost always stuck in this wing of the palace or in the basement, I’ve only seen the back of his head since arriving here two years ago,” The first woman whined. “That lucky bitch, it’s probably because she’s so youthful and pretty.”

“I’m youthful and pretty,” the deeper voice spat under her breath “The head maid is probably just giving her special treatment because of her mother.”

A sudden whack sounded and the lower voice whimpered. “What was that for?” It asked, clearly confused as to what it did to deserve this treatment.

“Shh,” The higher voice responded, wary of something. “We’re going to get in trouble for talking like that; we’re not supposed to know about it.”

“Well you didn’t tell me it was a secret when you told me.”

“You idiot, let’s just get back to work,” The woman with the higher voice responded, obviously not wanting to continue the conversation anymore.

Reluctantly, Yoongi turned his ear from the room that contained the two women and looked around the still empty corridor. He began walking again as he mulled over what he had just heard.

Two turns later and Yoongi stood in front of a lone door at the end of a short hallway. Tentatively he looked around him to confirm that none of the servants that continuously travelled around the castle were in sight before pulling the door open and ducking inside. He turned and gently pressed the wooden door back into its place until a soft click echoed around the room to notify the prince that it was closed again.

A breath floated out of his voice as he closed his eyes and breathed in the smells of the familiar room. Excitedly, he turned away from the door and scanned the room around him.

It was a relatively large room with couches scattered around the closer half of it. Amidst the couches were singular chairs to fill spaces and a few tables to set tea or plates of delicacies. In the second half of the room were various stands for sheet music and musical instruments scattered here and there, currently silhouettes because of the sun shining through the wall of windows behind them as it slowly made it’s way to it’s daily grave. Yoongi squinted as the bright light bounced off the white sheets that covered all of the furniture around the room.

Slowly, with his hand shielding his eyes, he walked through the various seats around him until he passed the midpoint of the room and began to walk among musical stands. The vast majority of instruments themselves were stored in another part of the castle and well looked after daily, but their stands and seats stayed in this room for conveniency.

Yoongi continued pulling himself through the room until he came to a large object, barely a few feet in front of the windows, completely covered in a white sheet; however, he didn’t need to uncover the object to know what it was. Through a multitude of visits to the West Wing, Yoongi had found this room to be his favorite place inside the castle.

His hand fluttered up to barely brush against the fabric. A small smile began to spread across his face; after moments of his hand hovering just above the object, he collected a fistful of fabric and pulled it upwards and towards him, causing a cloud of settled dust to be released into the air.

The sudden contrast of black against the white fabric that had been laid on top of it, combined with the warm yellow-orange light that was coming through the windows, as sunset approached, took the Prince’s breath away.

Impatiently, Yoongi rushed to take his seat on the small stool that sat in front of the grand piano. His breath rattled out of him at the comfort of his first love that he hadn’t seen in months. Hesitantly, his hands fluttered inches above the ivory keys as he sat, unsure of where to start again.

In a spontaneous motion, he pressed his naturally spaced fingers down onto their respectful places to create a chord. He breathed a sigh closed his eyes as he let the sound flow around him and echo off the walls of the large empty room.

Habitually, his hands began to move up and down the keyboard as his eyes fell to watch them move across the ivory. Chords and melodies floated out of the closed lid as the music was created on the strings and the notes bounced around the room.

Delighted by the rhythm that he was able to attain after months without practice, a smile spread across his face before he stilled his hands in thought, pondering what song he could play all the way through.

Immediately his hands rested in their starting places for Passacaglia in D minor. With just enough force to create a clear sound, he pushed his hands onto the keys in front of him and began to play. If the chords that his hands had created moments before had been evening sunbeams and new violin color, this song was the beginning of twilight and marble busts. The dark emotions portrayed in the notes gave Yoongi chills even as he played it years after he’d learned it.

Reflex began to take over as he fell into the rabbit hole of piano, his hands moving there they needed to without his command. His eyes closed and he only opened them to peek at his hands during an especially technical part.

His body felt like it was covered in a large warm blanket that the Prince was familiar with: the blanket of creating music. Whenever he played, his head felt lightheaded and his body felt warm and comforted physically, like the music notes were wrapping around his frame and producing heat.

So focused on the music that he was creating, Yoongi failed to hear the sound of the door being opened. Drawn by the unfamiliar sound of music flowing through this wing of the castle, Y/n had followed the sound to the end of this hall. Reluctantly, she had pulled the door open and walked in to see a boy sitting at the piano.

Having cleaned this room yesterday, Y/n was familiar with the layout, but she had not seen the piano uncovered at the time when she had been instructed to dust the tables.

The piano was still closed, but the sounds being produced from it were just as strong as they would normally be, and just as beautiful as the boy making them.

The sun had really begun to set within the past half hour and the golden light that flooded through the window encompassed the figure that sat with perfect posture in front of the piano. Their silhouette had a halo of light around them and y/n’s breath caught in her throat as she saw them. Unconsciously, she pulled her body towards the music, making her way through the room silently.

As she came closer, Y/n began to be able to distinguish features of the boy before her. His hair sat, slightly curly, in a short black mop; it looked damp but messy. His eyes were closed, and his eyelashes rested gently on the top of his cheekbones which stood out prominently on his pale skin.

His clothes had been drowned in darkness, but as y/n grew closer, she began to be able to distinguish the buttons and facets of his jacket. Her eyes strained to see the details of a small metal ornament on the left side of his chest; she was still multiple feet away, out of Yoongi’s field of vision and his eyes were closed.

She inched forward until she could make out the details of the metal piece and the rest of his jacket. When she did, she gasped and fell onto her knees, her forehead pressed to the floor.

Startled by the sudden sound, Yoongi looked around to see a servant, kneeling on the ground, in front of him with her face against the carpet and her hair splayed around her. He jumped to his feet, shocked by the sudden presence of someone else in the room and shouted.

“What are you doing here?” Yoongi bellowed. The figure on the floor flinched and began shaking. “Why didn’t you make your presence known? Why did you even come in here?”

When the prince’s voice ceased, his ears registered the sound of crying. He looked down at the small frame and realized that the servant was just a girl.

Seconds passed as Yoongi tried to regain proper breathing. When he had counted to 10 and his breath had returned to normal, he stepped forward until the tips of his shoes were inches from the hands of the servant. “Stand up,” He said, his voice calm and steady.

Immediately the cries of the girl grew louder. “Please your highness, I just followed the music I didn’t know that it was you until I got closer,” A small wobbling voice traveled through the hair that shrouded the figure’s head and reached her superior’s ears.

Yoongi crossed his arms over his chest. “Who are you,” He asked straightforwardly.

“Please, your high–”

“Who are you?” Yoongi shouted, his patience wearing thin. “Just tell me and I can figure out what to do with you!” Nothing in response. He sighed and resorted to another approach. “If you don’t tell me who you are, I’ll fire you right here and now.”

Immediately the figure shot into an upright position, still on her knees. She frantically brushed her hair out of her eyes and looked up to meet the Prince’s. “My name is y/n, Prince Yoongi, I am the servant that cleans your bedchamber. Please sir, you’ve met me multiple times and every time you have, you have seen my hard work, despite my lack of knowledge. I will become better.”

At the first moment of looking into her eyes, Yoongi had recognized her. His mindset of “firing this servant no matter what” changed as soon as he saw her.

He eyed her carefully, running over the event that happened just moments before. “How close were you when you heard the music?” He asked as he looked her in the eye.

“Pardon?” She asked, confused by the question. Yoongi was about to open his mouth to repeat the question when she understood his query. “Oh! Um, I was cleaning the room at the beginning on the hall and heard it only when I had walked back into the hall when I had finished; I couldn’t even hear it from inside the room.”

The prince breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down on the piano stool, brushing the hair that usually rested over his forehead backwards. Y/n waited, holding her breath, for the prince word that was law.

Finally, Yoongi tilted his head down to look at y/n and waited until she looked back at him. He couldn’t believe he was doing this when he had fired every other servant that had walked in on his playing; this girl was getting under his skin. “Do you promise to take what you’ve seen and heard tonight to your grave?” Yoongi asked, his voice low and serious as he tried to convey the importance of this to him.

Y/n’s eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly as she took in the words of her prince. Seconds passed as her brain worked to compute what he had just said to her until she finally understood, “Yes, Prince Yoongi. Of course I will.”

Yoongi flinched. “I will let you continue with your regular chores around the castle if you do that for me and one other thing,” He said slowly.

“Yes, of course, anything!” She responded as she rose to her feet and stared at the boy before her, paying attention closely.

He spun on his feet to face back to the piano before closing the fallboard over the keys and gathering up the sheet that had been on it before he had walked in. Patiently, he spread the fabric over the instrument until it was in the same state as it had been before his arrival. Y/n stood, waiting, for his response as she watched his careful and methodical actions.

Abruptly, Yoongi turned from the now covered piano to face y/n again. The sound of his footsteps were absorbed by the carpet as he made his way closer and closer to y/n. He was about to pass by her left side when he stopped, their arms right next to each other.

For the first time, Yoongi’s voice was unstable as he spoke to y/n. It didn’t sound like it was from fear or worry, but like he was shaken by something. Y/n held her breath as she waited for the Prince’s words to wash over her.

Yoongi didn’t even turn his eyes from the door in front of him as her spoke. “Don’t call me Prince Yoongi. I am your Majesty; refer to me as such,” He said, his voice wavering slightly despite his superior position. Without waiting for a response or looking back, he opened the door, walked through and closed it behind him, the sound of which echoed around the nearly empty room as a single girl stood, frozen, next to the grand piano.

Anger bubbled inside of Yoongi’s stomach as he practically ran through the west wing of the castle. Voices cut off as soon as they heard his footsteps in the hall, but he saw none of the heads sticking out of the doors once he passed with quizzical expressions on their faces, eager to gossip about the possible causes for his actions over dinner.

He stopped at the door of his bedroom, tempted to simply spend his evening in there, but was interrupted by his stomach growling, begging for food. Although he hadn’t noticed it before, Yoongi wasn’t surprised by this revelation. Ever since he had been a child, playing piano had caused hunger to arise in the young prince.

Defeated, he turned away from his bedroom door and began to slowly make his way down the main staircase to the door on the dining room.

As he walked through the door that was opened for him, giving him a walkway into the room, Yoongi’s eyes reflexively took in the spread, but stopped when they landed on his father. He sat, papers strewn about his place, with his head in his hand and his eyes wide as if the king was forcing them to stay open.

Yoongi was shocked at the sight; his father never brought work to the table. By dinner time, all of his papers were finished and gone, not to be seen until the next day. Clearly something was happening that was causing mayhem in the older man’s daily routine.

Slowly, Yoongi walked forward to take his place beside his father, a servant placing a plate of food in front of him as soon as he was seated. The king didn’t even look up at the new arrival as he continued to stare at the papers around him and take a small bite of the food from his plate.

“Hello, Father,” Yoongi said, trying to start a conversation as he began to consume the food in front of him. The man in front of him jumped before looking up, his hand on his forehead, barely registering his son before him.

“Oh, Yoongi, you’re here.” His voice was flat and emotionless as his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrowed as he scanned his father’s. “What’s wrong, Father?”

A sigh pulled itself from the King’s mouth and Yoongi’s heart ached to see him like this. Slowly, the king shook his head, clearly not willing to tell his son the woes of his heart.

Yoongi saw this action and clenched his jaw, annoyed that his father didn’t trust him enough with stress-causing information when he was next in line to the throne. “Father,” Yoongi said, a bite in the edge of his voice cutting through the stress that was strung between them

The day that had been meant to relax Yoongi and distract him from any other happenings had gone south. He had gone down to eat dinner with his father, tried to maintain a conversation and failed. Eventually he created an excuse that he had been busy all day and was extremely tired; somehow, his father had bought it.

Stars had already begun to appear only a short time since the sun had receded below the horizon. After leaving the dinner table, Yoongi had rushed to the hidden stairwell that wasn’t very hidden and raced up it until he reached the door that lead to the roof of the castle.

When he was stressed or confused, the prince tended to come up here at night to stare at the stars and let his thoughts into the dark and empty night sky. Usually the thoughts were scattered, coming from dozens of problems that had been building up until he could come to the roof and let them out, but this time they were all based on one person that wouldn’t leave his mind.

“Y/n,” Yoongi said into the atmosphere, more than a little bit of annoyance in his voice.

Abruptly, the prince sat up and rested his forehead in his hands. Why hadn’t he fired her? She’d given him enough reasons to, such as being behind schedule and going into rooms she wasn’t supposed to, but Yoongi couldn’t stand the thought of sending her away from the palace.

“She said herself, she needs to stay here,” Yoongi whispered to himself, trying to justify his actions the past few days, “You’re just helping her.”

However, this justification only led to more questions without answers. Why was he helping her? He was the prince and she was just a servant, he didn’t owe her anything.

Usually, Yoongi would spend hours on the roof, mulling over everything and letting his thoughts surround him until they became wisps of smoke and floated into the night, but tonight he couldn’t. Lingering on these questions was only serving to confuse him more and they felt like they were becoming solid instead of turning to smoke.

Impatiently, he rose to his feet and dusted himself off until his jacket was back to its original state. He turned to open the door to the staircase and walked through it, his feet making loud noises as they fell heavily on the wooden steps. As he neared the floor that he would exit at, he slowed and reduced the noise he was creating. Carefully, he pushed open the creaky wooden door that opened into the large corridor that connected to his bedroom’s hallway.

Although he had been determined to leave the thoughts on the roof, his brain continued to pick apart pieces of information and desire more pieces of the puzzle. He turned, his back towards the corridor, and gently pushed the door back into it’s place. A rustling of skirts startled him and immediately, he turned to see the maid that had created the noise.

She was older, and looked familiar. Yoongi assumed that she had been working at the palace for a while, mainly because the only time when servants were hired was at a young age or with credentials. The rustling had been made as she had lowered herself into a curtsey.

“Your majesty, is there anything I can help you with?” Her voice was soft and kind like a mother’s and Yoongi’s shoulders relaxed.

His reflex was to dismiss her without a thought and walk back to his room by himself, but a thought popped into his head. Hesitantly, he opened his mouth to respond, “Um, yes, actually.”

The maid looked up, her eyes wide in anticipation, waiting for his request.

Yoongi wrung his hands, wondering how to ask this bizarre question. “A-Are you familiar with a y/n? She was hired recently?” His voice stuttered as he asked the slightly awkward question to the servant.

A small smile spread across the woman’s face. “Yes, your majesty. I was the one that trained Ms. Y/n; she’s a bit of a slow learner, but I assume that after a few more days, she will become invaluable to this household.”

Yoongi stood, leaning against the door that he had just walked through, nodding as the woman talked. When she finished, his brain rushed, looking for another question. “What is her background? Why did she come to the palace?”

The maid looked down at her hands, the smile dropping from her face in seconds. “I only know a little bit of her background, your majesty. I know that almost all of her family died in the sickness that swept the country when she was a child, and that her mother is bedridden with another sickness; she plans to send almost all of the money she makes here back to her mother so that she can be taken care of. Ms. Y/n really loves working here.”

Yoongi finally understood what y/n had meant when she had told him that she needed to be here. The sudden reminder of the plague that had swept the country, years ago, made Yoongi shiver, his legs threatening to give way as he remembered his own repercussions from those days.

“Your majesty are you ok? Would you like me to escort you to your bedchamber?” The maid stepped forward, alarmed at the physical appearance of this prince. His normally pale skin had become ghost white, and his eyes went from focused to unfocused easily.

Yoongi blinked, pulling himself back into reality. Carefully, he pushed himself off the door behind him and into a standing position. “I’m fine,” He said, not looking at the woman before him.

She looked like she was about to step forward and help him anyway, but thought better of it. “As you wish, your majesty,” She said before curtsying and walking briskly in the opposite direction of Yoongi’s destination.

The boy listened to the receding footsteps, waiting until they went behind a corner, to reach out and hold himself up. Thoughts of the plague had been repressed and avoided for years, but now images, voices, and memories that he had no desire for popped up.

Desperate for relief, he rushed forward, his feet pounding on the floor beneath him, down the corridor and down a hallway until he came to stand right in front of his bedroom door. The familiar guard that stood outside looked at him concerned, but the prince only shook his head before pushing his way into his own space and closing the door behind him, effectively blocking out the world around him.

All at once, the darkness that had surrounded Yoongi all night lifted to a bright morning light. A groan pulled itself from his throat as he pulled the blanket around him up over his head, refusing the inevitable.

“Your majesty, it’s time for you to awaken,” An unfamiliar, strangely high, voice cut through the silence. The sound caused Yoongi to wince it’s sharpness. Hoping it would just go away, Yoongi laid still.

“Prince Yoongi?” The high voice continued, but Yoongi’s eyes flashed open. Another newbie.

Impatiently, Yoongi sat up, causing the servant to jump before turning to her superior and bowing. “Prince Yoongi, good morning!” The voice said, unusually cheerful so early.

Yoongi reached up and rubbed his nose beside his eyes, wearing thin so new to the day before him. The young girl looked up confused. “Prince Yoon–”

His patience snapped. “Get out!” Yoongi bellowed as he pointed towards the door. The servant’s eyes grew wide, but she didn’t move. Infuriented by her incompetency, Yoongi’s temper wore through. “You’re fired!” He shouted, pulling himself up to his knees, causing him to be taller than the servant that stood before his bed.

Tears began falling from the girl’s face, but Yoongi just stared at her, continuing to point at the door until she finally gave it and ran away, her face in her hands.

Aggravated, Yoongi fell back onto his mattress and pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to rub away annoyance for how the girl had acted. Although this kind of action wasn’t unusual, Yoongi still reflected on it during the time he spent laying in bed, as still as a rock.

Quietly, the door to the prince’s room opened, barely making a nose against its hinges. Light footsteps padded against the floor, but Yoongi just squeezed his eyes closed, behind his arm that was now flung over his eyes as his blankets sat in ridges around him, and tried to ignore them.

The footsteps slowly made their way closer until he could hear them stop at the foot of his bed. “Your highness, I’m afraid that it is past the time for you to be awake.”

Immediately, Yoongi’s eyes flew open at the familiar voice. He sat up suddenly to look straight at y/n standing in front of his bed, her eyes on the floor, and her hands clasped.

“I see that you’re awake, your highness,” She said, her voice low and monotone, “I’ll leave you now, trusting that you can get out of bed by yourself.” Her voice sounded cautious and devoid of emotions.

The prince sat still, tempted to say something to y/n and pull her from her state of being frozen towards him more than normal, but decided against it as his hand fidgeted, longing to reach out.

“Thank you, y/n,” Yoongi responded against his better judgment, his voice as low as his eyes as he looked down at the bunch of blankets on his lap.

Without another word, y/n dropped to a curtsey before turning and striding out the door and closing it with sufficient force. Stilled by the sudden events, Yoongi couldn’t move. Curiosity was bubbling inside as he tried to figure out why y/n had been brought in to wake him up as a back up.

Gradually Yoongi stood up next to his bed and walked over to his clothes before dressing.

When he was finished buttoning the last button on his jacket and had done his best in pulling his hair into place. Lazily, he began walking towards the door, slowing when he heard voices talking outside of it. They were quiet and could only be heard from very close to the door, but they were there; Yoongi stalled his footsteps and quieted his breathing, trying to listen to the conversation.

“Why did you get y/n when Jess ran out crying?” A high pitched voice asked.

A deeper voice responded, “We can’t leave the prince unattended. For months, it would like multiple tries every morning to get him up, but in the past few days, he’s up as soon as y/n walks out of the room; however, from what I can hear, she says the same things as anyone else.”

“I don’t understand, what’s so special about her that Jess would be fired one minute and y/n come out unscathed the next?” the higher voice inquired, growing impatient.

A sharp gasp came from the other voice.

“What, what,” the high pitched voice said excitedly.

“Do you think,” The deeper voice said, slowly decreasing in volume, causing Yoongi to lean closer to the door, “something is going on between y/n and the prince?”

Yoongi bolted into an upright position, prepared to fling open the door right away when another response came from the higher voice. “Don’t be ridiculous; he’s a prince, she’s a servant, it’s absurd.”

Nodding, Yoongi stepped away from the wall that he had been pressed against, and grasped the door handle before him. All at once, he pulled the door open, causing the two women behind it to jump into their places and curtsey to the floor embarrassed.

“Y-Your hig–” The two women began their greetings simultaneously, but Yoongi pulled his face into a stoic expression before brushing past the women; They turned to watch him go before, without looking back, he flicked his finger towards the hallway to their right that contained a servant’s’ passage.

“Back to work, women. Less gossip tomorrow morning, please.”

Without uttering another word, Yoongi heard the women’s rushed footsteps retreat down another hallway, soon disappearing as he walked in the opposite direction.

Not in the mood for a large meal, Yoongi arrived at the doors of the dining room, but stalled outside. A few moments passed as he tried to decide whether or not to enter. He heard the boisterous voice of his father calling to servants through the thick wood and knew that if he entered, it would not be a short visit.

Decidedly, the prince turned from the wooden doors and began walking down a clearly less decorative hallway. Although the lessons that his father planned anew everyday were hard to find an order in, the one thing that was consistent was a Math class, first thing in the morning, every other day.

Slowly the undecorated hallway split off into an even smaller passageway with no embellishments on the walls. The walk was familiar, but not something that he was completely unaccustomed to. On the days that a full breakfast or a run in with his father felt like too much, Yoongi took this path as an alternative

Multiple turns and one flight of stairs later, Yoongi arrived at a simple door with loud noises making their way through it. Timidly, Yoongi reached out and knocked on the door, having learned that knocking yielding a safer result than just entering.

Barely a second later, the door flung open to reveal a woman with a kind face and an apron around her waist. When she recognized the boy before her after a moment of taking in his appearance, she immediately fell to a curtsey. “Good morning, your majesty.”

“Good morning, cook,” Yoongi said as he gave her a small smile.

Cook rose from her curtsey and scanned the prince, taking in his slight frame. “My, my, why are you so thin? Have you been eating the food at the dinner table properly? Why are you down here instead of up at the table i prepared so nicely for you and your father?”

Yoongi looked at his feet, feeling sorry for neglecting Cook’s meals the past few days. Although his adventures to the kitchen were few and far between, Cook always held a soft place in her heart for the young prince. “I didn’t want to have a run in with my father and wasn’t especially hungry. Do you think you could fix me up something small and fruity instead of hearty?”

Cook frowned at the simple request of a meal, but nodded all the same before opening the door even wider and pulling the boy over the threshold. Immediately, the sounds of the kitchen surrounded Yoongi. From one corner of the large cooking area, an oven door slammed shut, while from another a knife hacked away at slabs of meat.

“Hey, don’t cut the meat too thin!” Cook yelled to the latter corner of the room. A chorus of “yes, ma’am” returned to Yoongi and Cook’s ears a second later and Cook looked content.

Yoongi followed the older woman to the back of the room where a solitary table and cooking station sat, empty. He pulled a familiar stool out from under the table and sat upon it as he watched Cook roll up her shirt sleeves like he had many times before.

After setting her work space into order and pulling some ingredients out in preparation, Cook turned to Yoongi and rested her elbows on the table to look at him. “What do you want for breakfast today, your highness?”

Yoongi had told Cook to stop speaking formally to him after his first few visits to her kitchen, but even though she had stop most of the formal actions, she still curtsied at his appearance and referred to him as Your Highness.

Yoongi pretended to ponder, something he had already done during his walk to the kitchen, dreaming up everything impossible, knowing that Cook would make it possible.

Moments before arriving at the door, Yoongi had decided on his soon-to-be breakfast. “I want a berry tart with lemon glaze, cook. I’m dying for something sweet and sour,” You said, his eyes sparkling with desire.

Cook laughed and readjusted her apron. “Something so simple? Your requests are usually a test of my ability; are you sure that’s all you want?” Yoongi nodded and Cook smiled before walking away to gather the ingredients she would need.

As he waited, yoongi scanned the room around him watching the busy lifestyle of the people that worked to produce the food at sat daily on his table. More than a few of them would cast furtive glances in his direction and whisper behind hands to someone beside them.

Every time that Yoongi made his way to the kitchen below the palace floors, glances were always thrown at him, silently asking why he was there instead of in him elaborate dining room. No one had ever actually said anything to him, no one would dare, but Yoongi could translate the looks in their eyes well enough.

Suddenly frustrated, the young prince turned back to the workstation that he sat at. Gently, he rested his elbows on the wooden tabletop and looked to the side to see Cook rummaging through her storage for the right berries and the best flour for a flaky crust.

Minutes passed with Yoongi playing with the small amount of ingredients already on the counter before him. A few eggs rolled back and forth from one of his hands to the other, but he withheld his desire to attempt to juggle them when he knew that they would just fall and break. Finally, Cook came back her arms laden with fruit and other ingredients.

“Sorry it took so long your majesty,” She said, as she bowed her head. Yoongi shook his head, silently telling her that it wasn’t a problem, but still looked at her expectantly.

Cook sighed and looked at the boy before her with a grin. “Is it an eating or learning day today, your highness?”

Whenever Yoongi found time to return to the kitchen, the visit was one of two types. On days in which he was in a hurry, he let Cook make the dish herself without any interruptions; it was made fast and in his stomach just as quick. However, on days that Yoongi had more time or was willing to sacrifice his schedule, Cook was accommodating and would help him learn to make the dish by her side, hands on.

Yoongi pondered the options. Although he knew that his math lesson was soon, and his stomach begged for quick relief, Yoongi looked up at Cook and responded with, “I’d like to learn today.”

Cook nodded and began separating the ingredients into two identical sets. By the time she had finished, Yoongi had washed his hands and pulled on the small apron that Cook left around just for learning days.

Immediately, cook set to work, starting to organize and combine her ingredients. Yoongi watched for a second before falling in step behind her and working at a good pace, a step behind Cook at all times, looking ahead at what she was doing while simultaneously performing his own action.

Slowly, they combined their respective amounts of butter and sugar and other ingredients to create a mixture of wet ingredients. Cook looked over to watch Yoongi’s slow and methodical hands performing his actions and critique when needed. After the wet ingredients, they both worked on the dry ingredients, succeeding in creating a few dust clouds, mainly from Yoongi’s bowl, and making their black aprons partially white with handprints and “splashes” of flour here and there.

Although Yoongi’s bowl contained significantly less flour than Cook’s, most of which could be found on the work surface or on the floor, they progressed to the next step anyway and slowly combined their wet ingredients into their dry ingredients.

Slowly the time inched by until the tart pans sat hot on the countertop, golden brown around the edges and warm in the middle. Ignoring the ticking clock on the wall, Yoongi impatiently pulled out a small knife and began cutting into the tart that sat, tempting him.

The crust was sliced easily and soon a large slice sat on a small white plate, in Yoongi’s possession, waiting to be devoured. Hesitantly, he picked up a fork and cut a bite sized piece away from the rest of the sweet. He stabbed it, hunger threatening to take over, and pushed it into his mouth.

He smiled as the tart berries exploded in his mouth and sighed in contentment as the crust fell apart in flaky pieces. “Cook, this is amazing,” He said, his mouth half full of pastry.

Cook turned away from the oven to set the other tart beside the one that he had just taken a bit of. “I’m glad you like it,” she said with a smile as she looked at him, “because that’s the one you made, your highness.”

Yoongi coughed and covered his mouth to keep from getting tart everywhere. Immediately he turned to stare at the two tarts before him. They looked incredibly similar, but after a few moments, Yoongi could see the perfect pinches created by Cook’s hands on the crust of the untouched tart. His eyes widened as he looked at the one that he had just taken a piece from. Now that he knew it was his, he could see minor flaws here and there, but he was still shocked at the delicious pastry that he didn’t know he could bake.

Reluctantly, he looked up to see the face of the clock staring at him as he stood there, beside Cook, telling him that he was already 30 minutes late to his mathematics lesson.

“Oh shit,” He said, nearly dropping the plate of tart in his hand. Frantically, he placed in down on the counter before him and rushed to untie his apron before pulling it over his head.

He began running towards the door before turning to see Cook in a curtsey at his departure. “Send the rest of that to my room please, Cook,” he called before turning the corner outside the door to the kitchen and leaping up the flight of steps, two or three at a time.

From in the kitchen, slightly muffled, Yoongi heard a small “Yes, Your Highness.”

Yoongi began to retrace his steps that he had taken to the kitchen. His mind was on the Mathematics lesson that he knew he was already late for. If any of his tutors didn’t tolerate tardiness, it was his mathematics tutor, but Yoongi could care less; he would pick cooking over a lesson any day.

As his mind wandered, his feet carried him to the main entrance hall of the castle, suits of armor and tapestries lining the halls, the former seeming to be staring at him disapprovingly. His math lesson always took place on the other side of the castle, in the west wing on the first floor.

He slowed to a walk reflexively as he made his way through the entrance hall, its floor covered in a luxurious red carpet that his father continuously reprimanded him for running across. The door to the dining room, to his right, was silent and Yoongi assumed that his father had already left breakfast for his work room, filled with advisors. When the open space that surrounded him became a large hallway and the carpet underfoot changed to a dark purple, Yoongi broke into a jog again.

Doors passed him on both sides, some leading to bedrooms while others led to a library or a drawing room; all of their doors were closed except one. After a few moments, he passed an open door, sounds of annoyance flooding out of it. He passed by it at first, but curiously bloomed in his chest and he stilled. Hesitantly, he turned, looking from the door behind him and to his left, to the hallway before him, leading the lesson that he was already late for.

Cautiously, he moved his feet until he stood facing the door from which even more of a voice could be heard. “Oh come on,” it said, annoyance clear in it’s voice.

His feet moved forward without his consent, pulling him to the opening of the door, barely 9 inches wide, but large enough to look around the room with limited vision. When Yoongi stopped in front of the door, he slowly leaned forward to peer through the opening.

Across the room, holding herself up against one of the 8 foot tall windows, trying to clean as close to the top as she could, was y/n, slowly becoming aggravated with her height. Suddenly, she leaped, barely streaking the top pane of the glass, before falling back to the height of the pane second from the top. “Shit, this is going to put me behind again if I don’t pick up the pace,” she said, anger lacing her voice.

Yoongi stared at the sight of his home being cleaned. Although he knew that cleaning went on constantly behind the scenes, the more experienced maids had become proficient in keeping themselves hidden during their work, commonly by closing the door behind them after entering a room.

After recognizing who the voice belonged to, Yoongi involuntarily took a step back. His curiosity was satisfied, but he couldn’t help but think about what she was doing. Clearly she was behind schedule, again, and struggling to properly clean a room that she wasn’t familiar with.

“Ugh,” Yoongi heard y/n say. He turned to look through the door again and see y/n standing, massaging arm that had been stretching high above her head in an attempt to finish her job.

One half of himself said to turn and walk down the hall to his mathematics lesson and let her finish her job, or not, on her own, but the other knew that he’d already missed the majority of his class, and that if y/n didn’t finish this assignment, there was a good chance that her luck was out.

Without thinking, Yoongi’s feet began walking towards the door. He was surprised by himself, but once he got started, he realized there was no going back. Giving in, he pushed against the already partially opened door and it swung open, hitting the wall behind it.

Y/n jumped at the sudden sound and turned to see her superior striding towards her, a serious expression on his face. “Your highne–” Y/n started before being cut off by the prince.

“Where is another rag?” Yoongi asked impatiently as he walked straight past y/n figure that had already begun to dip into a curtsey. His comment was only met with silence. Slightly annoyed he turned to y/n, his head lolling to the side. “Listen, you’re not gonna get anything done hurting your shoulder from trying to reach the top of the window. I’m trying to help you get your job done on time; now where is another rag?”

Y/n looked up and locked eyes with the prince before pointing to a table a few feet away with a few cleaning supplies on it, unable to speak. Yoongi nodded in thanks before turning, snatching up one of the cloths before grabbing the back of a chair and pulling it to the window. After that chair was in place, he walked back to the same table and grabbed another of the same kind: simple and wooden.

When he finished setting them up, he turned to y/n and held out his hand to her still frame. “You’ve got to work with me if I’m gonna help you y/n,” He said, a hint of laughter breaking through the stoic expression on his face.

Y/n blinked before tentatively following his flitting eyes to his hand and reaching to place hers in it. Her heart was racing as he pulled her towards the chair beside him and stepped onto his own chair, prompting her to do the same. She followed his lead, slightly unbalanced, onto the slightly wobbly chair.

“There,” Yoongi said, letting go of y/n’s hand nonchalantly, “Now you can reach the top of the window.”

Y/n nodded and turned to begin to wipe the upper parts of the window clean, occasionally dampening her cloth with cleaning solution. She was slightly surprised when Yoongi turned as well to follow her lead. Thoughts ran around her head, most of them panicking about why the prince was doing part of her work with her when he was clearly royalty.

They worked side by side for a few moments before y/n turned to Yoongi, her head bowed. “Your highness, I can finish by myself. Please let me do the work.” She held out her hand for the rag that had still on the window before Yoongi.

A small smirk appeared on his face. “Y/n, you do realize that you are still behind right? I know the schedule of most maids and I can assumed that you’re supposed to be done in half an hour.” He glanced around the room, his eyes playful, “It’ll take you at least another hour to finish this room,” He turned to face her, her head lifted when he caught her, his eyes holding it up, “Unless I help you.”

“Your high-” Y/n started, but was interrupted when Yoongi gave the window beside him a final swipe and jumped down from his stool.

His back turned to her, he began dragging the chair back into it’s place. A casual look sat on his face as he twisted to face her, the rag still in his hand. “What’s left to do?” He asked, his arms folded over his chest.

Y/n stared him, knowing that his mind was set on helping her with her task, for some reason. Hesitantly, forcing herself to follow his wishes, she pointed to the uncleaned fireplace on the next wall of the room that she knew would take her the longest to clean. A smile crept onto Yoongi’s face as he turned to see where he was pointing.

“Now you’re getting it,” he said as he began to unbutton his jacket. Y/n’s eyes widened at the sudden action, her mind yelling, wondering how this action could correlate to cleaning the fireplace.

“Your highness!” Y/n yelped, jumping down from the chair that she had remained standing on, and covering her eyes. “What are you doing?”

Yoongi chuckled at the sudden actions of the maid before him and reached forward to grab her wrists and pull her hands away from her eyes. “Do you expect me to work in this stiff jacket? I could barely clean the windows because my arms are so constricted.”

Y/n blinked as the prince slowly let go of her hands and removed his jacket, revealing his white long-sleeved undershirt, slightly see through, tied at the front of the neckline.

Carelessly, he turned and threw the ornamental jacket onto one of the chairs strewn about the room and began to roll up his sleeves that sat hanging on the lower part of his wrist. Trying to remember the few times that he had seen maids cleaning his fireplace, Yoongi walked over and knelt before the grate as y/n watched from the other side of the room. He carefully reached forward and pulled the grate to the side, revealing the empty square where charred wood and ashes sat around a metal log holder.

Y/n stared at him as he sat, crouched, in front of the fireplace, clearly confused. Slowly, she turned and continued cleaning the windows. When she turned back a few minutes later, Yoongi sat in the same place as before, the grate off to the side, and his chin in his hand, clearly thinking hard.

A chuckle fell out of y/n’s mouth as she stepped down from the chair that she had been using and slowly returned it to it’s place at a small tea table. She only had the fireplace left to clean, which took the longest, and dusting to do about the whole room.

“Your highness?”

Yoongi jumped at the sudden address and turned to see y/n a few feet behind him, looking at his concerned. He rose to his feet and opened his mouth to respond. “Yes? I was just…” He stopped, not knowing how to continue.

Y/n sighed, wishing that she could send the prince away instead of worrying about his rank hovering over her every move with the ability to throw her out and any moment. “If you want to help, would you please do the dusting and I can deal with the fireplace?”

Yoongi broke into a grin, “That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” He said, clearly trying to play off the fact that he had no clue how to handle the fireplace situation.

With a smile, he jogged over the the set of cleaning supplies that sat on the table that he had his chair from and plucked the feather topped wooden handle from the lot of items, smiling triumphantly.

He saw y/n shake her head slightly at his antics before taking his place crouched in front of the fireplace and begin to pull the charred logs into their place.

Her hair fell over her face, but she ignored it, seeming not to have seen it. Yoongi’s hand itched to replace the strand to its place at her back, falling over her shoulder blades. Chastising himself, he turned and began the work that he was using to distract him from thoughts of another mathematics lesson.

Twenty minutes passed, and Yoongi finally returned to the place that he had begun dusting at. He looked around the room at its shiny surfaces and sighed in contentment at his work well done.

Curiosity had always bubbled up in his throat when he walked passed maids carrying out their duties in the halls: he constantly wondered what their schedules and days were like.

Y/n sighed, having finished her job at the same time at Yoongi, and stood up and brushed off her skirt.

She turned, a deep breath having left her chest, to face Yoongi.

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