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lostinthewiind · 3 years

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𝘋𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘰𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘔𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳

Tsukishima Kei - Haikyuu

Synopsis: before you met Tsukki, Yamaguchi was the go-to person for girls who wanted to confess their love for the tall, blonde middle blocker. Now that the two of you are friends, however, you collect love confessions for him on the daily. And why shouldn’t you? You and Tsukki are just friends; you say so yourself all the time.

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

“You’re sure you don’t mind?”

You shook your head as you took the letter and box of chocolates from the small, trembling girl before you. “No, not at all.” You forced a sweet smile. “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

The girl grinned wide, her face lighting up. “O-okay, thank you! I don’t think I could ever tell him in person about how I feel.”

“He’s really not as scary as everyone likes to think he is,” you said as you tucked the gifts of affection into your bag, pretending to pay careful attention but in reality, not exactly caring whether the card got crumpled or if the candies melted.

The girl’s cheeks flushed a bright shade of red and she chuckled. “Really? Maybe I’ll try talking to him at lunch then!”

“You should.” You feigned interest, not quite sure why you were encouraging this girl to personally confess her undying love for the boy that you yourself held deep feelings for. Maybe it was because you felt that if you played the part as the supportive best friend, you would eventually just fall into that roll and forget all about how his smirk gave you butterflies or how your heart skipped a beat whenever he offered to share his music with you.

“Okay, I will!” A wave of confidence flooded over the girl’s features. “Well, class is about to start, so I better get going. Thanks again!”

“No problem.” Your assurance fell on deaf ears as the girl turned and headed to class with her friends, the lot of them giggling and whispering as they went.

As soon as the gaggle of girls had turned the corner and disappeared from sight, you exhaled and turned on your heel to head toward your own classroom. Managing to make it just before the first bell rang, your mood lifted as soon as you spotted your friend sitting in his assigned seat beside yours, eyes closed and headphones positioned over his ears, almost as if they were a permanent fixture of his head.

Fishing the offerings out of your bag, you dropped them down onto his desk rather harshly to get his attention as you slid into your own seat. Hearing the items drop onto his desk and feeling the vibrations through his arms, which had been folded across the tabletop, Tsukki eyed the card and chocolates and sighed.

“Again?” He pulled his headphones away from his ears and hung them around his neck, the music still blaring enough that you could faintly hear the bass.

“Again.” You confirmed with a slow nod.

Yamaguchi, who sat on the other side of Tsukki, stared at the gifts with wide eyes. “Wow, Tsukki, you really are popular!”

“I really wish I wasn’t.” He picked up the small box of sweets and tossed them onto Yamaguchi’s desk. “Do you want them?”

Yamaguchi, who was used to laying claim to the rejected love offerings, nodded happily and accepted them. Sometimes he gave them to you as well, and as much as you appreciated the thought, eating the physical representation of unrequited love wasn’t something you particularly enjoyed, so you usually ended up just throwing them out when you got home.

“I wish you would just stop being so mean to everyone who isn’t Tadashi and I, that way people would actually confess their love for you to you and the two of us would be left out of it,” you grumbled. “It’s getting annoying.”

“How do you think I feel?” Tsukki lazily ripped open the card and scanned its contents quickly with his eyes, scoffing at the girly handwriting and hand-drawn hearts. “Pathetic.”

Without a second thought, he handed the card over to you so that you could read it as well. You chuckled to yourself as you took in the words of affection that resembled a Victorian-era love poem. You felt a little guilty about snooping on the private emotions of a girl who, as far as you could tell, seemed perfectly nice; however, you couldn’t deny the joy you experienced when Tsukki shared yet another sappy love note with you, inviting you to participate in the flat-out rejection and tug on your heartstrings just a little bit more.

As long as he didn’t love anyone else, there was still hope for you.

“‘The way your eyes sparkle in the sunlight makes my heart sing.’“ You read a particularly descriptive part aloud before handing the card over to Yamaguchi. “If only these poor girls knew that their most vulnerable feelings get scrutinized by a panel of three cynics like us.”

Yamaguchi chuckled heartily as he took his turn reading the card. Before another word could be said on the matter, however, the second bell rang and the teacher strolled into the room, bringing a halt to any and all side conversations.

By the time lunch had rolled around, you had almost completely forgotten about that morning’s events. Your stomach grumbling and your only thought being getting something to eat, you stood up to grab something from the vending machine but stopped in your tracks when you saw the girl from earlier standing by the door, her face even redder than it had been that morning and her eyes drifting from you to Tsukki, who had yet to notice her.

Suddenly, you remembered that you had encouraged the poor girl to talk to Tsukki herself, which even you knew was a horrendous idea. Sure, you had told girls that in the past, but never once had one actually followed through. Usually, you received a love confession, you gave it to Tsukki, you laughed about it together, and the girl would take her broken heart and retreat with her tail between her legs when Tsukki never so much as acknowledged her existence.

This was uncharted territory and you had no idea what to do.

Turning to Tsukki, you pulled his headphones off—which he absolutely hated, but that was besides the point—and looked him dead in the eyes to set him straight before he could snap at you. “You see that girl by the door?” you asked him, and after glancing past you, he nodded. “She’s the one who gave me the card and chocolates to give to you this morning. She’s going to come in here and talk to you and I need you to not smash her heart into a million pieces. Okay?”

Tsukki opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the girl had worked up enough courage to make her way into the classroom and was now standing beside the two of you.

Smiling sheepishly, you backed away to give the two as much privacy as possible and pretended to be busy by digging through your bag for something.

“Tsukishima-san, did you get my card and chocolates?” the girl asked, her fingers intertwined together and her feet shifting weight nervously as she spoke.

Tsukki simply nodded. With that, Yamaguchi returned from using the bathroom and you stood next to him near the door, the two of you watching from afar as the unknown girl confessed to Tsukki in the partially-full classroom.

“What do you think he will say?” you inquired out loud.

Yamaguchi shrugged, never taking his eyes off of the interaction before him. “No. He’s never interested in any of the girls that confess to him. I don’t imagine this one will be any different, even if she is doing it in person.”

“Yeah . . . I just hope he doesn’t make her-” You stopped talking mid-sentence when the tears started welling in the girl’s eyes and she turned to rush out of the classroom. “. . . cry,” you finished your thought.

Rolling your eyes, you returned to your desk, having completely forgot about getting something to eat from the vending machine, and looked to Tsukki, who was completely unfazed.

“That looked like it went well,” you quipped. “Remind me to never confess my undying love for you.”

“All I did was tell her that I wasn’t interested,” he explained. “I don’t know how I could have possibly been any nicer.”

“Well, no offence, but considering you are you, I’m sure there was a way.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

For the following 24 hours, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get the look on that poor girl’s face after being rejected by Tsukki out of your head. Of course, you had no idea what he had actually said to her, but whatever it had been had been enough to make her cry . . . would he say something as equally insensitive if you ever decided to tell him how you felt?

By some stroke of luck, Tsukki wasn’t at school the next day, giving you time to clear your head without having to put up a facade for hours on end. However, you hadn’t been completely alone the entire day, and Yamaguchi was more observant than you had originally thought he was.

“Something’s bothering you,” Yamaguchi said out of nowhere as the two of you walked home after school that day. “Do you want to tell me or do you want me to guess?”

You chuckled softly. “You have three guesses and if you don’t get it right, you have to buy me a snack from the corner store when we pass it.”

“Deal.” Yamaguchi nodded, an aura of self-confidence practically radiating off of him. “Okay, let’s see . . . you got a bad test grade?”

You shook your head, convinced there was no way he could possibly guess correctly. “Nope.”

“You don’t like what your parents are cooking for dinner tonight?”

You snorted. “Nope, that’s not it.”

“Ah, okay. One guess left.” He was silent for a moment as he thought. “Could it be that you’re upset with how Tsukki turned down that girl at school yesterday because you have feelings for him but now you’re afraid that he will reject you in the same way?”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your jaw dropping. Yamaguchi just grinned. The sneaky bastard had been playing you all along.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” He played it off as a lucky guess. “Does this mean you’re buying the snacks then?”

“I . . . I guess so?” You were unsure how to respond. “But, wait, how did you know?”

“Tsukki may be completely oblivious to the general concept of feelings, but I’m not,” Yamaguchi said as he started toward the store that was in sight in the distance. “Now come on, I’m hungry!”

Completely shaken, you moved forward without really thinking about it and followed Yamaguchi. After you paid for two candy bars, the two of you continued on your way, Yamaguchi munching happily as if nothing had even happened and you staring at the still-wrapped treat in your hands, at a loss of words.

“If you knew I liked him this whole time, how come you’ve never said anything?” You finally found your voice.

“Because I figured you would share when you were ready,” he answered. “But now I think you’re never going to tell him because you’re too scared.”

“Of course I’m scared!” You threw your arms into the air dramatically. “You saw the poor girl running away with tears in her eyes. You’ve seen how he laughs at sappy romance stuff. How could I possibly feel anything but scared?!”

Yamaguchi thought for a moment. “Well, sure, it’d be scary if you were anyone else . . . but you’re not. You’re you. Judging by this whole situation, you don’t know this, but he likes you too.”

For the second time in less than an hour, you had been completely floored. “He what now?”

“Did you think he really hung out with you all the time and blatantly turned down other girls’ confessions in front of you because he just thinks you’re a good friend?”

You nodded, flabbergasted. “Y-yes?”

“You two are so unbelievably oblivious it’s actually hard to watch you guys running in circles around each other. Just tell him how you feel. I guarantee he won’t turn you down.” Yamaguchi suddenly stopped in his tracks and gestured to the house behind him; Tsukki’s house.

Without even realizing it, Yamaguchi had lead you right into your waking nightmare.

You furrowed your eyebrows. “You conniving little-”

“You’ll thank me later. You both will.” He shoved you up the walkway to the front door before continuing down the road to his own house. “Good luck!”

“Yeah . . . thanks,” you huffed, eyeing the closed door in front of you. You had stood on this porch a hundred times before, knocked on the door a hundred times before, but today was different.

Maybe Yamaguchi was right. Maybe Tsukki did like you back, and the only way to know for sure was to simply ask.

Before you could psych yourself out or change your mind, you pounded on the front door three solid times and glued your eyes to the doorknob, waiting for it to turn.

Less than a minute later, you could heard footsteps inside and felt heat rush to your face. Were you actually going to do this?

When the door swung open and Tsukki stood before you, dressed in pajama pants and a sweater, definitely looking a little on the ill side, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Hey,” you greeted. “How are you feeling?”

The boy eyed you curiously. “Better now, thanks. Why are you here?”

“I, um . . . I have a confession for you,” you said before you could stop yourself. The words just sort of tumbled out of your mouth and now there was nothing you could do to avoid the situation.

An amused look spread across Tsukki’s face. “You didn’t need to come all the way to my house for that. Just throw the card out and eat whatever candy came with it. You know the drill. It’s just another girl who-”

“There’s no card or any candies,” you told him and he cocked a brow. “And it’s not from just another girl . . . this one is from me.”

His face paled and his hand dropped from the doorknob he had still been holding onto, an indication that he had been ready to say goodbye to you pretty quickly. Now, however, he seemed to sense the seriousness of the conversation and had decided it was worth sticking around a little longer for.

“I won’t stand here and tell you that your eyes sparkle in the sun or that my heart does backflips when I see you, because you’ve heard that shit a million times,” you said. “But I will say that I like when you share your music with me or when you let me in on your inside jokes. You make me feel really special and I like that. I like you, Kei, and I just thought that I should tell you.”

“Oh.” He looked eerily similar to a deer in headlights and you were just waiting for him to slam the door in your face. But he didn’t. His hand did reach for the doorknob once again, but instead of closing the door, he opened it wider. “Do you want to come watch a new documentary with me?”

That hadn’t exactly been the response you had been expecting, but considering you weren’t currently a sobbing mess, you knew it could have gone a lot worse.

“I would like that.” You smiled and stepped into the house. “I might not have a whole box of chocolates, but I do have this.” You pulled the candy bar out of your pocket. “We can share it.”

“I would like that.” Tsukki closed the door behind you.

From that day on, even though you and Tsukki never officially declared your love for one another or referred to each other as ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’, you knew you had moved on from simply being friends.

And sure, sometimes you still got confessions for him from random girls, but it didn’t bother you nearly as much anymore. How could it when you knew, without a sliver of a doubt, that Tsukki only had eyes for you?

#haikyuu #tsukishima #tsukki #tsukishima kei #tsukishima scenarios #tsukki x reader #middle blocker #yamaguchi #yamaguchi tadashi #reader #reader insert #x reader #lostinthewiind #fanfiction #oneshot #fluff #PG

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lulu-zodiac · 2 years

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I posted 4,078 times in 2021

544 posts created (13%)

3534 posts reblogged (87%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 6.5 posts.

I added 4,583 tags in 2021

#destiel - 944 posts

#cockles - 824 posts

#misha collins - 569 posts

#q - 386 posts

#jensen ackles - 372 posts

#spn - 348 posts

#castiel - 341 posts

#supernatural - 283 posts

#my stuff - 260 posts

#asks - 256 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#did i really just create a new ship tag on ao3 just because i couldn't get the idea of early seasons dean and pre-podcast jeremy meeting?

My Top Posts in 2021

things misha collins, agent of chaos, has as really done:

- repeatedly used justin bieber as a means of flirting with his co star

- renewed his wedding vows dressed in drag, holding a bouquet of organic vegetables

- paid jared padalecki over a thousand dollars in coins after losing a bet

- found out about destiel by reading fanfic

- got arrested for a suspected bank robbery (he was actually just using the light on the roof of a bank to read his book. y’know. as you do)

- “what are they going to do, fire me?”

- tricked larry king into thinking the spn cast have regular orgies on set

- “accidentally” tweeted a link to an in-depth, cockles analysis tumblr post

- produced farts that caused a fellow plane passenger to pass out twice and require medical assistance

- asked amazon if they ship destiel or wincest

5822 notes • Posted 2021-03-13 18:16:44 GMT

for anyone who needs a serotonin boost; jensen and misha making each other laugh

See the full post

6114 notes • Posted 2021-01-03 01:06:05 GMT

12 months. 365 days. and WHAT a year it’s been. jensen’s deafening silence on the finale, a rogue spanish dub actor doing a better job of writing the script than literally anyone at the cw, misha “it was a homosexual declaration of love” collins, jackles letting slip he recorded the entire confession so he could watch him and misha together again and again whenever he wants, the increasingly messy jivorce, misha posting a photo of himself in jensen’s bed on the last day of pride month, destiel trending worldwide every time misha or jensen so much as breathe on twitter, misha using justin bieber to wish jensen happy birthday (again), jensen’s inexplicable decision to write a show about john fucking winchester, et tu brute, jensen calling misha “babe” live in front of thousands of people, misha publishing poems suggesting jensen has kissed him, confirmation that questions about destiel are being censored at cons, misha posting a celebratory tweet for destiel hitting 100k fanfics on ao3 in which he confirms he likes to top. i mean. just. what a fucking year.

6235 notes • Posted 2021-11-05 00:15:12 GMT

an addition to this post, as there is clearly so much more to unpack:

- in light of recent events, every j2 interaction from over the last year suddenly starts to hit different (e.g. the disastrous creation con panel)

- PR advisors inevitably descend, and j2 craft poorly written apologies that only highlight the growing rift between them

- an excess of bumpy road analogies appear on twitter

- the already strained mental health of the spn fandom starts to crack, with many people leaving for good

- jensen’s aunt goes rogue on twitter

- 24 hours on and spn tumblr is trying to reconcile genuine sympathy for jensen with the delirious highs evoked by the truly unprecedented levels of drama

- kripke tweets something that's probably meant to placate everyone but instead just further emphasises the rift between jensen and jared

- kripke hastily deletes his tweets and probably regrets every creating the cw show supernatural

- jared, without any sense of irony, implores people not to send hate on twitter. this receives an (understandably) mixed reception

- spn maintains its political reputation, as trump's former legal advisor comes out in support of jared

- somewhere in the us, a publishing intern is suddenly bombarded with lies about the author of an upcoming poetry collection, as, in an impressively horrible move, jared stans decide the way to solve everything is to send abuse about misha collins to his publisher

- non spn blogs start to become genuinely concerned by the fact half of tumblr is still a blazing furnace of destruction

- j2 stans continue to dig themselves even deeper into denial, claiming the entire twitter feud was simply a PR stunt

- misha collins makes a brief appearance as the voice of reason, and then sensibly sees himself out again

- some fans start to come round to the idea of the prequel, possibly because they've had time to consider, or possibly because, in comparison to the last 48 hours, nothing seems that bad

- just as things are starting to calm down a little, jensen uses the word "canon" in a tweet and the fandom implodes again (this time at the implication of destiel)

- jared notably still does not apologise for using shakespeare's words in vain against robbie thompson

- jensen causes yet another (admittedly, smaller) fandom meltdown by changing his twitter header

- "that's it... no more twitter today"

- despite the poorly crafted and unconvincing apologies, mainstream media won't shut up about the j2 fallout any more than tumblr will

- the schism between jared stans and hellers inevitably deepens

- somewhere in canada, jensen ackles probably has a breakdown

- misha collins does, as expected, post a nude video of himself to take the heat off jensen (*insert cockles joke here*)

- 72 hours on and peace finally seems on the horizon as, on the tumblr dash, compilations of misha collins in bathtubs start to outnumber twitter screenshots

- it seems like biden is okay (for now), but the real question is: has anyone checked on putin?

7875 notes • Posted 2021-06-27 14:40:27 GMT

there’s just. there’s just so much to unpack here. I mean:

- jensen emphasising this is the FIRST story he wants to tell about the spn verse (read: the destiel spin off is coming)

- chaos machine's new pride icon

- misha joking the prequel needs a trench-coated angel, which, based on historical data, only means one thing: the prequel absolutely has a trench-coated angel in it (our favourite one with the rainbow wings and squinty eyes, to be specific)

- kripke causing multiple social media platforms to explode by liking said tweet

- jared hearing about the prequel for the first time on twitter at the same time as the rest of us

- misha absolutely not hearing about the prequel for the first time on twitter at the same time as the rest of us

- the entirety of tumblr and twitter trying to fathom why jensen decided to make a show about a character the whole spn fandom have spent fifteen years wanting to punch very hard in the face

- hot topics include: will john's shitty actions be ignored or explored? is the prequel really just a cover for a destiel spinoff?? or just an elaborate and expensive method of ensuring cas finally, in some universe, gets to smite john?

- rowena considered for the prequel but not sam

- it becomes clear danneel and jensen knew EXACTLY what they were doing when they named their production company "chaos machine"

- et tu brute, gutted, bummed

- the increasingly likely possibility that the french mistake and the mockumentary were actually prophetic visions (related: someone check on misha)

- bobo berens and kripke add more fuel to the twittersphere fire

- most of the fandom yelling "fight, fight, fight" at the cast of their favourite show six months after it ending

- a complete, collective tumblr meltdown as fires that have been brewing in opposing corners of the fandom for over a decade implode into either vindication or denial

- unprecedented scenes in fandom history as self-confessed ex-j2 stans quietly let themselves into the cockles trash dumpster

- the realisation that jensen has been plotting this for months (important questions: how long has he known? when they were filming the finale?? at the creation con panel? is this what was going on under all that sexy silence???)

- most of tumblr on tenterhooks simply from watching two middle aged men follow and unfollow each other on twitter

- the fact there are still conventions booked and j2 panels that are absolutely going to happen after all of this

- no one knows if biden is okay

12122 notes • Posted 2021-06-25 11:58:02 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#oh god my top posts were both about the jivorce lol #i don't know if i'm proud or ashamed of this summary tbh #my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #personal

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 4 years

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Missed Connection - Shinsou Hitoshi

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Rating: NSFW 18+ Warnings: Unprotected sex, blowjobs, dirty talk, poking fun at fakes who shop at UO and wear band t-shirts for bands they don’t listen to, terrible poetry, Kaminari is a weirdo. Pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi/F!Reader Words: 4,554 AN: This is for the bnharem server collab, the theme is pen pals! We were able to write basically anything as long as there was some kind of communication/writing/texting etc! This is the first time I’ve written for Shinsou and I head cannon him as a fucking closet goth so don’t at me. Collab Masterlist (Please go check out everyone else’s contributions!) My Masterlist Buy me a Ko-fi -- When his phone started ringing, Shinsou was tempted to throw it halfway across the room. Whoever thought it was okay to call him at - he turned to squint at the clock on his bedside table - 10 in the morning on his day off, better have a good excuse. He frowned at the screen once he’d found his phone, and sighed.

“The world better be on fire, Kaminari.” His palm rubbed over his face as he pressed the phone to his ear, his eyes closing again.

The blonde chuckled, full of energy as usual. “Aw, come on ‘Toshi! It’s not that early.”

A million ways he could kill his friend and make it look like an accident flashed through his mind. “You know I like to sleep late on my days off.” He left it at that, no further explanation needed. Kaminari knew he stayed up impossibly late on his off days, crawling under the covers only when the sun started to rise.

“You want to hear this, I promise. I wouldn’t call this early unless it was important.” Shinsou listened to the sound of a keyboard clicking through the phone, waiting impatiently for his friend to continue.

“So, you know how I sometimes like to fuck around on the internet?” This was a rhetorical question. Of course he did. “Well, occasionally I like to browse through Craigslist, and this morning I was in the missed connections section, and I found something interesting.”

“Why do you look through missed connections?” He didn’t really care, he just thought it was kind of...weird. But, then again, this was Denki, so he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Kaminari huffed. “Dude, sometimes it’s so sad to read how they saw someone and thought there was a connection. It makes me wonder if they ever find each other.” He was quiet for a moment like he was deep in thought. “But then sometimes, it’s like ‘You farted in the produce section and I’d still date you, let’s go out’ and it kind of loses the romantic appeal.”

“You’re a sap. Also, gross.” He found himself drifting off, bored with the conversation already. “Do you have a point?”

“God, you’re impatient! Listen, I was scrolling through the ads and I found this one, I think you should hear it.” Clearing his throat, he began to read.

“You were the sleepy purple-haired man in the cat cafe on Main, I was hiding behind an orange tabby by the window. I was staring, but I wasn’t trying to be creepy. You just looked kind of lost, and the black and white short hair on your lap seemed to have all your attention. Oh, I think his name is Socks. Isn’t that unoriginal? Anyway, I’ve seen you there a few times and I want to know more about you. If you see this, please respond.”

Shinsou sat up in his bed, ignoring the sharp pain of his muscles protesting at the sudden movement. “What the fuck?”

“This is about you, isn’t it?” Denki’s excitement was clear. “You’re the only sleepy guy with purple hair I know who frequents that cat cafe on Main Street.”

“How long ago was that posted?” Hitoshi felt strange, restless energy flowing through him. Someone had noticed him and decided that he was interesting enough to want to get to know? He wasn’t anything special, and he kept to himself mostly. What did this even mean?

“Last night! When did you go to the cafe?” He didn’t even wait for a response. “I’m forwarding this post to you, and you better send them an email! It’s been too long since you’ve dated someone, ‘Toshi, and I’m concerned.”

Unfortunately feeling more awake than he wanted to be, Shinsou shifted until his feet were on the floor. “Yesterday afternoon. And it hasn’t been that long.”

“It’s been like a year, dude.” Kaminari sighed. “Okay, I sent it. Please write back to them. Let me live vicariously through you in this weird turn of events.”

Shinsou sighed and said goodbye, ending the call and staring off into space for a minute. He needed coffee before he could even think about reading it for himself and then maybe responding.

Uh, hello.

I can’t help but feel like this was about me? I’m not even really sure what to say. This feels weird. You could have come over and said hi, maybe. I don’t bite. I might have stared at you and made things awkward but I feel like it would have been a surefire way to talk to me instead of posting this on craigslist of all places and expecting me to see it.

You’re lucky I have a friend who likes to scour the dark recesses of the internet for entertainment purposes and happened upon this post.

-Shinsou

How do I know this is really the person I’m talking about? What were you wearing when you went to the cafe? That’s like the only way I can be sure you are who you say you are.

The only reason I didn’t come over and talk to you was that I had Oliver on my lap and he is a grump and didn’t want me to get up until he was good and ready. (That’s the orange tabby’s name, by the way.) By the time I was able to coax his fat ass off of me you had gone.

Honestly, I’d let those cats climb all over me like their own personal cat tree all day long and not complain about it, but I digress.

I didn’t expect you to find this or reply, it was kind of my way of convincing myself that I’d given it a shot, even though I really hadn’t done much.

-Y/N

I was wearing the following:

A Joy Division t-shirt depicting the cover of Unknown Pleasures, which is arguably the most cliche t-shirt I own. It’s become one of those shirts that people wear who have no idea who Joy Division is, they just like it for the aesthetic. (I’ll have you know I happen to know who they are and like their music very much.) This shirt was more than likely covered in cat hair.

Black jeans, which were probably covered in cat hair as well.

Black boots, a staple of mine.

I am a closet goth. I don’t know what else to say. I won’t deny it. I’ve learned to embrace who I am. I happen to know that Oliver is a grumpy shit, so I am not surprised he kept you pinned down for so long. That cat has been known to knock people over and purr loudly while “making biscuits” on their chests for hours at a time. I’m glad to know that you survived his assault.

So what are you going to tell me about yourself now? I have confessed to you about my goth status, so I demand something in return.

-Shinsou

Yeah, it was you.

I was hoping that you actually liked Joy Division and you weren’t one of those Urban Outfitters aesthetic people. I can now rest easy. I like them too, but I really like New Order more? I hope this isn’t the end of our budding friendship.

I will not say that I am a goth, though I have goth-like tendencies? Or I just appreciate the music. Whatever. I don’t have, like, a pet bat or anything. I own a pair of Doc’s, though.

I have been on the receiving end of one of Oliver’s attacks before, so you don’t have to tell me about them. I have experienced his pushy demeanor on more than one occasion.

So, something about me? I don’t know. I spend a lot of time in that cafe because I love cats, but that’s kind of a given, isn’t it? I usually bring my laptop and make an attempt to work on my homework, but it’s usually futile. I’d rather pet the cats.

Oh, I guess that counts as something right? I go to college. I’m an English major and taking a fuck ton of creative writing courses. What about you?

-Y/N

An English major? That sounds like fun. I think if I had a need to go to college I’d have liked to take something like that. I have a friend who writes ultra depressing Gothic poetry, that would be right up his ally as well.

I’m a pro hero, hence why I didn’t need college. Saving people is something I’ve always wanted to do, especially since I was always bullied about my quirk as a kid. It kind of made me more determined, I always wanted to prove those assholes wrong, you know? So, here I am.

I’m glad to know we can wear matching Doc’s together, and that you don’t keep a bat as a pet. As cute as their faces are, they’re not very easily domesticated.

New Order is fine. The real question is, The Smiths or The Cure? Your answer to this question will be what determines the longevity of our friendship.

-Shinsou

This is the worst question you could ever ask me. How could you do this? I could never choose between them. Both? The answer is both.

I hope your next email will not be your last.

Bats are cute but they always seem to dive bomb my head when they’re around. Not that I go places with bats often, but I used to go camping as a kid and they always did that. It was not a good time.

I think it’s amazing that you’re a pro hero! You’re really out here, fighting the bad guys and saving people and then coming into the cat cafe and petting kittens and drinking coffee like a normal person. I think it’s admirable how hard you worked to achieve your dream. I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m proud of you. Why were you bullied for your quirk? You don’t have to answer that if it makes you uncomfortable.

I wish I could write ultra depressy Gothic poetry. Here let me try:

The night is black like my soul Clove cigarettes burn slowly My life is Meaningless

How was that? Do I get a gold star? Or a black skull? Which is appropriate?

-Y/N

I’m printing that and sending it to Tokoyami. Thank you for making my entire existence with that poem. I’m breaking out the red wax candles and putting on “How Soon Is Now?” right now.

You get a star, but it’s a pentagram. We have to keep with the theme.

My quirk has to do with mind control, so I was always told I was meant to be a villain. You can imagine what that could do to a kid’s psyche, being told by peers and adults alike that you weren’t hero material, when that’s all you wanted. It’s okay though, I did what I wanted and they can eat my ass.

Sorry if that was too raunchy, but it’s how I feel.

If my earlier comment wasn’t proof enough, I prefer The Smiths, but I cannot deny the impact of Disintegration. Lullaby is a really great song.

That being said, this will not be my last email, so you can breathe easy.

On a semi serious note, I really enjoy talking with you. We have a similar sense of humor, and you like cats which makes you automatically better than most people. Would you like to get coffee sometime? I know a nice place that’s quiet and filled with fluffy kittens...

-Shinsou

—

I’m glad I haven’t lost your friendship due to my opinion. I know how important that feud can be to some people. People get very passionate about it. Kind of like with Blur versus Oasis, or Brand New versus Taking Back Sunday. I hate that these are the only examples I can think of.

It wasn’t too raunchy. Those people can most definitely eat your ass. I’m glad you have decided to use your powers for good. You’ll have to explain to me how your quirk works sometime.

I shall treasure my shiny pentagram sticker with my entire heart.

Isn’t Tokoyami the Jet Black Hero: Tsukuyomi? He looks like the type to write Gothic poetry. I am not even mildly surprised.

Even though the way we met was unconventional, I’d like to think I’d have gotten up the courage to speak to you the next time I saw you in the cafe. Somehow this is better, though. It makes for an interesting story, you know?

I’d love to get coffee. I think I know the place you’re talking about. Let me know when.

-Y/N

—

Shinsou was nervous. It was stupid really. He’d been exchanging emails back and forth with you for a few days, and even though you’d barely revealed much about each other, the easy banter through your messages was comforting. He felt like the two of you would be compatible. He just hoped that he was able to keep the conversation going in real life.

When he entered the cafe, he ordered his usual and picked his normal table towards the back. Socks, his favorite black and white companion, was at his side almost immediately. He let his hand drift down to scratch behind her ears, his gaze fixed on the door as he waited for you to arrive.

Out of habit he was a little early, but he figured it would be easier this way. He had no idea what you looked like, but you knew him, so he knew you’d come over when you got there, and it would make things less awkward.

A few minutes later he saw the door open, and he immediately knew it was you. Black Doc’s and thigh high stockings, a black skirt and an oversized deep red sweater adorned your body, a leather jacket over your shoulders and your hair tucked under a black beanie, cheeks pink from the chill of the autumn weather outside. You were pretty, and he felt his nerves increase tenfold when your eyes met his, a smile gracing your face.

He watched as you ordered a drink at the counter, the paper cup clutched in your hands as you made your way to his table. He stood up when you approached, letting himself appreciate you up close. “Y/N?”

“Hi, Shinsou.” You were so much shorter than he was, and he found himself having to gaze down at you when he was standing at his full height.

“It’s nice to put a face to all those emails.” The way you blushed under his attention made his heart flip. “Please, sit.”

You nodded, sliding into the seat across from him. He sat back down, his hands moving to grip his coffee cup.

“This is kind of weird, isn’t it?” You looked down when Oliver made his way over, rubbing himself against your boot. “I almost feel like I don’t know what to say.”

“I know what you mean. We could just sit here and email each other, if that would make you feel better.” Your laugh was like music to his ears. “I’d rather hear your voice though.”

Your face was red when you looked back up at him. “I have to agree.” You leaned your elbow on the table, your cheek cradled in your palm. “Tell me more about yourself, Shinsou.”

“It’s Hitoshi. You can call me Hitoshi.”

—

If anyone would have told him that the night would end this way, he’d have said they were insane, and should probably get themselves checked into the nearest institution.

But here he was, his face pressed into the spot where your neck and shoulder met, lips ghosting over soft skin, his calloused palms sliding underneath your sweater. You were purring, your head thrown back and your fists clenched in his t-shirt, your back pressed against the wall in the hallway that led to his bedroom.

“Fuck, ‘Toshi.” You mumbled, pressing yourself closer to him. “Bed?”

You didn’t have to ask twice, his hands sliding down to lift you up by the backs of your thighs, his cock hard and straining in his jeans as you rutted against him. He turned himself and began walking toward his room blindly, his eyes still shut as he sucked a mark into your neck.

He pulled back so he could peer over your shoulder and maneuver your bodies through the doorway without bumping into anything, laying you back on the bed.

The events of the night were a blur, your coffee date turned into him taking you out for ramen at the restaurant down the street, and then he asked you back to his apartment to show you his record collection.

It was mostly a ruse though. You’d been flirting back and forth, the both of you getting bolder as the night went on. He was only half surprised when you’d entered his apartment, barely removing shoes and coats and hats before you spun around on him, pressing him against the door and kissing him like your life depended on it.

He rested on his forearms, poised above you, looking over your flushed face and kiss bruised lips. Your legs wrapped around his waist and pulled his hips closer, making him groan. “Impatient?”

Your hands moved to cup his face, pulling him down toward you. “Very.”

He wasn’t expecting your strength, caught off guard when your lips crashed into his, your body pushing him over until he was on his back and you were straddling him, knees on either side of his hips. You ground down against him, moaning when his hips snapped up reflexively. He was happy to give you control for a while, especially when you sat up and grabbed the bottom of your sweater and pulled it over your head. The view was spectacular.

He let his hands wander, tracing along the lines of your thigh highs from under your skirt, and up to the lace at your hips. Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, the devilish glint in your eye was not lost on his as you shifted down his body, fingers swiftly working to unclasp his belt and undo the button on his jeans.

You slid off of him, and he lifted his hips to aid you in pulling his pants down his legs, his boxers following. His cock was achingly hard, the tip angry and red as it sprung free from it’s confines, nearly slapping his stomach. You eyed it greedily, and he was lost for words when you surged forward, delicate fingers wrapping around his length and stroking him, your tongue peeking out to taste him.

Amethyst eyes rolled back when you took the tip in your mouth, tongue swirling around the head, a low moan sounding from the back of your throat. The warmth and wetness that surrounded his cock when you closed your eyes and bobbed forward had him breathless, his hand threading through your hair, and his palm resting on the back of your head. He kept himself steady, fighting back the urge to buck his hips and push you down further on his length.

Shinsou bit down on his lower lip, his stomach muscles tensing as he tried to keep it together. Kaminari had been right, it had been a while since he’d been with someone, and he wanted this night to last as long as possible. The sweet and innocent look in your eyes as you looked up at him through your lashes, your mouth enveloping him all the way to base, was nearly too much for him to handle, his hand tugging at your hair gently to pull you off of him. “I’m not going to last if you keep that up, kitten.”

You visibly shivered at the pet name and he grinned, loving the feeling of being able to invoke that reaction from you. He scooted forward when you sat back on your knees between his spread legs, his arms circling your torso as he worked at the clasp on your bra, pulling the straps down your arms when he unclipped it. Strong hands gripped your waist and moved you to the side as he stood up, reaching under your skirt to tug your panties down your legs.

He took a moment to consider what he’d do next. He wanted to taste you, it was only right for him to return the favor, and he was almost certain you would taste as sweet as you looked. Another part of him wanted to hike up your legs around his waist and slam inside of you, desperate to hear you moan his name as he pounded you into the mattress. As he contemplated what to do, reached back and pulled his shirt over his head, and then let his hands wander up to the apex of your thighs, digits sliding through your folds. You gasped, falling back onto your elbows, back arching as he toyed with your clit, letting his long fingers slip inside your heat. “So wet. Just for me?” Eyebrows raised, he teased you.

“Fuck, Hitoshi, please.” Breathless and panting, you gazed up at him, biting your lip.

“Please what? Tell me what you want.” You would make the decision for him. “Would you like my mouth or my cock? I’ll let you choose.”

Huffing, your hips rutted against his hand impatiently. He kneeled on the bed between your legs, adjusting his arm and adding a second finger in with the first, his thumb finding your bundle of nerves again. He listened to your breath hitch, and your quiet mewls, pride filling his chest that he was the one coaxing those noises out of you. Finally, you breathed deep and answered him. “Fuck me, Hitoshi.”

Ignoring the protesting whine that left your lips when he removed his fingers, he brought them up to his mouth, maintaining eye contact with you as he sucked on them, tasting you. “You’re delicious, kitten. I’ll have to make sure to taste you properly later.”

Wasting no time, he lifted your legs up to rest your legs over his shoulders, one hand on his cock. He lined himself up with your entrance, grabbing at your hips and pushing himself inside you. If he thought your mouth was hot and wet and basically everything he thought was heaven, he was mistaken. This was it. This was everything. He wasn’t even inside you all the way and he was fighting back the need to cum again, cursing himself and breathing deeply. He leaned forward, forearms on either side of your head as his mouth crashed against yours, all lips and tongues and teeth, his need for you growing tenfold as you wiggled your hips in an attempt to feel more of him.

Groaning, he bucked forward, filling you up, the both of you sighing in relief at the feeling. He gave you a moment to adjust, lips moving down your jaw and tongue laving at the mark he’d left on your neck earlier. “You feel so good, kitten.”

“Toshi, you can move…” Your hands were gripping his biceps, nails leaving crescent shapes in his pale skin, breathing ragged as you clenched around him.

Hissing, he followed your instructions, hips pulling back until he was almost completely out, before sliding back in. Your arousal made the glide easy, your back arching underneath him. He started a steady rhythm, grunting quietly and letting the feeling of you pulsing around him keep him grounded. He let one of his hands wander, shifting his weight so he could ghost his palm over your side, fingers pinching your nipple and rolling the hardened bud between them. You keened, chanting his name like a prayer, the sound of blood pounding in his ears almost masking the sound.

It spurred him to move faster, his chest tight, sweat pooling at his temples and between his shoulder blades, purple locks sticking to his forehead. His gaze was locked on you, and it stole his breath. Your chest and neck were flushed, the most beautiful sounds spilling from your lips as he fucked into you. It became clear to him that he wasn’t going to last much longer, and neither were you.

“Hey, kitten. You gonna cum for me?” He shifted back to his knees and trailed the fingers on his left hand down your stomach, coming to rest between your parted legs. “I want to hear how pretty you sound when you come apart.” He kept a firm grip on your hip to keep you from sliding away, rolling his hips and rubbing tight circles on your clit.

“Fuck, Hitoshi!” The effect was almost immediate, your body and lungs seizing, eyes rolling back as you fell over the edge, your cunt clenching around him like a vice.

Falling back over you, his thrusts became sloppy as he chased his own release, barely able to move with how tight your pussy was gripping him, your orgasm still rolling through you. He felt your hands on his face, guiding him to kiss you again, fingers carding through his hair and down his back, your nails raking red trails down his back. He felt like he could barely breathe, lost in you. “Y/N…”

He felt his muscles tense, and moved to bury his face in your neck, his hips stilling as he came hard, filling you up with his release. You squeezed around him again, and he sighed into your skin, eyes closed as he tried to regulate his breathing.

Rolling over to the side, he hissed when he pulled out. You chuckled, and he turned to look at you, a lazy smile on his face. “What?”

“Is that what you call showing me your record collection?”

Snorting, he propped his head up on his palm, leaning on his elbow, his free hand reaching out to push a piece of hair away from your face. “You attacked me, remember?”

“I couldn’t help it!” Protesting, you blushed. “I wanted to kiss you from the moment I walked into the cafe.”

It was his turn to blush. “Yeah?”

Shrugging, you turned on your side to face him. “Mm. Can you do me a favor?”

His body was still buzzing, muscles loose and pliant as he shuffled closer to you. “Anything.”

“Can you thank your friend for being a weird internet troll and finding my post?”

Shinsou coughed a laugh, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “Please, I can’t do that. It’s all he’d ever talk about for the rest of our lives if I did.”

You leaned up and kissed him, your fingers pushing back his hair.

He hummed against your lips, feeling content, shifting himself on the bed and wrapping his arms around your waist, tugging you into him. “Maybe I’ll send him a text later. For now, I have other plans.”

Kaminari’s phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he picked it up, eyes widening at the message that appeared on the screen.

Toshi: I owe you a crate full of Pokemon cards and my eternal gratitude for being a weirdo meme king who trolls the internet.

Denki: Oh, you’re in a good mood. Did you get laid?

Toshi: Fuck all the way off.

Denki: That’s a yes. You’re welcome.

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my-own-oracle · 3 years

Note

Could I get a fluffy Drift romantic Valentine thingy?

Of course! Every bot deserves some love. You didn't specify any specific version of Drift, so I'm going with the MTMTE version. If you wanted RID15 or something else, just let me know. Sorry, this kinda got long; I've been without power for the majority of 3 days, this was one of the few things I could to do.

You still kept track of the days that passed on Earth. At first, it was for your own amusement. Wanting to keep track of the time on Earth, but as some holidays came and went, you kept track to keep the connection to your home alive. You kept track of the calendar changes, making a special note when you entered the month of February

You planned, quietly and carefully, gathering spare datapads and using your little stash of credits to purchase a small gift for a particular bot. It was hard keeping the whole thing a secret, considering most of the things you had to hide away were significantly larger than you, but by the power of pure determination, you managed.

You spent hours locked away in your hab-unit, carefully typing out cheesy Valentine's poems for your friends. Most following the 'roses are red, and violets are blue' format. And when they were done, you beamed.

You spent the day dragging different data pads around to other bots. Tailgate had even decided to help you for a while, flying you around on his hoverboard, laughing and talking with you as you made your way through the large ship. Even with his help, the event took up most of the day. Slowly everything was handed out. All but one Valentine remained.

You bid a farewell to Tailgate as he dropped you off at your hab-unit. You had to do this delivery alone.

This was the Valentine that mattered the most.

**** Drift had spent most of the day with Rodimus, talking about everything from different tactical plans to the many ways the Co-captain could encourage and rally his mechs with a more powerful aura. Or at least Rodimus pretended to listen to that last part. Either way, Drift had spent several hours with his friend. During that time, the spectralist had spied an unusual sight, a datapad in Rodimus' personal quarters. "Did someone slip that in here when you weren't looking?" Rodimus laughed good-naturedly before shaking his helm.

"No, the Space Cadet dropped it off. She's celebrating an earth holiday today and is passing out some gifts to bots she thinks will appreciate them. Rodimus passed the datapad over to Drift, letting him read the short poem written on it.

"Roses are red, And you are too. I am so thankful, To be friends with you."

Drift found himself smiling as he reads the blurb of text below it, where you explained Valentine's day and its significance to humans in your own culture.

"So this day is used to express love and gratitude to those around you?" Drift clarified, smiling a little wider as Rodimus nodded.

"She told me humans also use this day as an excuse to express more romantic kinds of love too."

A feeling of jealousy settled in his tanks.

"(Y/N)- she is truly a wonderful person. Did she pass out many of these?"

"She had a large stack. You'll probably have one waiting for you in your room," A servo pushed into drifts shoulder plating.

"I doubt that we-" he calms his spark before speaking again. "We may be friends, but we hardly spend time alone together. I think she's frightened of me."

"Uhhh I-"

"She must have learned about some of the things in my past. She can hardly look at me in the optics when we're together, and if we are alone, she can't speak. I fear that I may be terrifying to be around.."

"Okay…. Have you ever thought that maybe your being," Rodumis rolled his optics, "I don't know, a little overdramatic?"

Drift pondered the thought. But no matter how he looked at it, the hesitant gaze, the fidgeting when together, the quietness she only had around him, all signs pointed to her fearing him.

"Drift, please, don't make me be the responsible one. It goes against my entire being."

Silence lapsed again.

"I am not spelling this out for you," Rodimus stood, pulling Drift to his peds and shoving him out the door. "Come back when you're done being a sparkling. Go talk to her," the door shut, leaving Drift to walk back to his hab-unit.

****

You could feel your heart racing under your ribs. Thundering with each step you took, leading you to pause every few meters. 'This is so stupid. I can't do this.' you told yourself for the hundredth time.

"You alright there, Space Cadet?" you snapped your head behind you, spying Rodimus standing maybe a few feet away. When had he snuck up on you?

"I'm fine, just lost in my head." you face back towards Drifts unit, your confidence waning with each passing second.

"Is that another one of those valentines?" Rodimus squatted down to you your level, a servo reaching out to the special datapad you had placed on the hall floor.

"No," you dashed in front of his hand. "Nothing of interest, really. It's just like the one I gave to you and everybody else."

"And I suppose the box next to it is nothing too," you took a large step to the right, standing between the white and red wrapped box you had next to the Data-pad, before sharing a small, shy smile with the co-captain.

"It's- it's nothing." your voice was softer than you wanted it to be. The smug look on Rodimus' face told you he didn't buy it. "I wanted to give a gift to someone, and if I was on Earth, I would give a special someone candy. I found out Cybertronians can eat energon candies, and I bought a crystal of it as a gift. But it's stupid. He probably won't like it anyways."

You sunk your head closer to your shoulders. "Just giving him a poem and a piece of candy isn't going to make someone like him notice me." Your fingers worked at the hem of your shirt, rolling the worn material as a means to work out the lump you felt forming in your throat.

Rodimus held his servo out to you, a silent invitation to 'climb up' as he so often said. You took it, settling down into his palm. You watched as he carefully gathered your measly gift into his other servo and began walking in the direction you needed to go.

"So, you like this mech, and you're worried he doesn't like you." You nod. "Who is it?"

"I'd rather not say."

"It's not Ultra Magnus, is it?" You snap a playful glare at your friend. "I just needed to know, I'd still support you, but I won't be thrilled."

"No, it's not Magnus." you heard his vent of relief. Thundering footsteps filled the hall as Rodimus carried you farther a small way.

"so…"

"It- I, Drift," you whispered. "It's for Drift." You were thankful Rodimus didn't outright laugh. He did his best to stay composed. You could feel it in the way his digits curled for a moment, him gasping for air as he tried to talk.

"You think, he- you dont realize-" giggles filled the space between each attempted sentence.

"Yes, I like Drift. Go on, get it out. The little silly human is in love with a bot who probably couldn't care less, who's so far out of her league it's embarrassing." The lump in your throat returned, this time accompanied by a burning feeling behind your eyes. You took a few calming breaths, refusing to cry in such a frustrating situation.

"Oh stars, you're hopeless." Rodimus was smiling, oblivious to your emotional turmoil or not caring about it. "Trust me," he lifted you level with his politics, "He'll be thrilled."

***** Drift sat in his hab-unit, wondering how he could use this Valentine's day thing to his advantage. Find a way to earn some positive affection, and talk to you.

He was coming up blank; you were beloved. There was no way you would give up your time to talk to a bot who terrified you. If only he knew a way to quell your fear and maybe show that he wasn't such a bad bot. Drift heard his door open but didn't turn from his desk. His EM field told him it was Rodimus.

"Yo." Rodimus walks over to Drift, and before he can turn, his friend grips the closest servo to him. Drift feels you more than sees you, as you're practically tossed into his servo. His optics widen monetarily, and he throws his other servo around you, desperately trying to keep you from falling.

You have his full attention, so much so that the sound of Rodimus putting your gift down on Drift's desk before walking out hardly registers in his audials. Rodimus' smug "You'll thank me later" rings aloud and as the door slides shut behind him.

Drift cautiously checks you over for injuries. Slowly you roll over, sitting up and trying to look up into Drift's optics.

Your eyes can barely go past his chassis.

"Are you alright?" Drift questions. His optics take over you again, first your body, then your aura.

"Hi Drift, I'm alright" you raise your hand in a little wave, you sound a little frightened, and he watches as your body tenses. "I'm sorry for-uh- barging in like this. But I wanted to bring you a valentines gift." you waved your hand to the small offering on the desk beside him. "It's been delivered, so I'll stop bothering you now, I'm so sorry to have-"

"You are not bothering me," he smiles down at you. You're nervous; that much is plain to see. He turns his attention to your gift. While the box interests him, he takes the datapad first.

"Roses are red, And you are kind. I hold you in my heart, always on my mind."

He watches from the corner of his optics as you become red, the color complimenting the flustered pink in your aura.

"The poem is beautiful," he smiles, but you don't look at him in the optic. He puts down the pad and reaches for the box. The lid removes easily, and he is touched by the piece of energon candy you had inside.

"Thank you for my gifts, though I will say I'm surprised you gave me one," your eyes snapped to his optics wide and hurt.

"Why, you're my friend." Your question was soft, so quiet should he had been organic, he wouldn't have heard it.

"You're frightened of me, so I didnt think you would take the time to make me a gift."

"I'm not frightened of you," your hand reached our reassuringly to one of the digits around you, "What gave you that impression?"

Drift listed the clues he had gathered over the few months you'd been aboard, noting that with each one, a look of guilt took form over your face.

"Drift- I-I am not afraid of you," you stood abruptly, hopping from his hand to his desk "do you know what valentine's day is all about on earth?"

"It's about showing your affection to those in your life," your smile made his spark hum. It was soft, there was fear, but he focused in closer and saw in your aura; it wasn't a fear of him.

"Correct, but only half correct. It's also about telling people who don't know you lo-" you took a breath. "Some humans use this day to confess their love for another person." He could see the struggle you had to keep your eyes at his optics. "Those things I did, the ones that made you think I was scared of you, I did them because I was nervous. I really like you Drift, I would go as far as to say love, but I'm frightened at what you'll do, what you'll think."

He brought his servo to you again, two digits brushing your cheek and your hair. "If I were human, and it was Valentine's day, what should I do to quell your fears? How am I supposed to respond if I feel the same way about you?"

You leaned into his digits, your body relaxing from a tension he hadn't realized you had been holding in.

"You just did."

#valentines requests #drift x reader #mtmte drift #Transformers #transformers x reader

131 notes · View notes

beebrainedstudios · 3 years

Text

More ADSOM Headcanons

Just cause I feel like it.

- Whenever Osaron possessed Holland, the tips of his hair, his hands, and the skin around his eyes would grow cold and hard, like stone. This effect was also partially present even when Osaron wasn’t in full control, which helped contribute to Holland’s “uncanny-valley youthful” appearance.

- This is really more of an extrapolation of canon, but Osaron is a cleithrophobe and a somniphobe (I think those are the right words), meaning he’s afraid of staying still/being trapped and sleeping! Both situations remind him of his time on the throne in Black London, which, in combination with his natural restlessness, makes him very active to the point of obsession. These fears are a huge part of his more, more, more motivation and put him in conflict with Holland often; during Holland’s time as king, Osaron would possess him at night out of an intense desire to move and avoid sleeping, and he didn’t like it when Holland would sit on the throne (I don’t think we ever actually see him do so...).

- Lila loves poetry. Though she wasn’t exposed to it much when she was young, she gets more opportunities to read it during her time in Arnes, and she secretly hoards anthologies of poems she finds on her travels. Rhy later finds out from Kell and is happy to share some Arnesian literature with her; it’s a great way for him to get rid of some of his old school scrolls.

- Antari naturally have a higher body temperature than normal people due to the warmth of their magic. An Antari who is badly ill or unable to access their magic will typically be very cold to the touch and may even be at risk of hypothermia.

- Alucard has pain in his shoulder during the winter from the injury Berras gave him, and there is a large scar on the back of his head (hidden by his hair) where his father struck him with his cane.

- I may explore this more later, but all of the separate Londons have their own climates and ecology; Grey is the equivalent to our world, Red is overly warm and humid with lots of floodplains, White is cold and snowy (even before the Split) with mountains and cold jungles, and Black London is tropical and somewhat coastal (its ocean is much higher and closer to the city, and the river is bigger). Animals also vary between the worlds. A tiger in Grey looks different from the same species in Red, and mythical creatures such as dragons, sea serpents, and unicorns actually exist in some of the worlds (they’re still very rare).

- Kell, Lila, the Danes, and Maxim have all named their weapons. Maxim’s royal full-sword is named Suncatcher. Lila has too many knives to list, but all of them are named something fearsome and tough, like “Claw,” (or after poets, but she’d die before admitting it). Kell secretly named his silver knife Loyal, as it has always been true to him like he wants to be for everyone else. Athos’ whip is named Typhon, while Astrid’s twin axes are named Mercy and Victor (she typically refers to them in Maktahn though).

- Antari are naturally more vulnerable to poisons and blunt injury than normal people, but are more resistant to open wounds or blood-related injuries; they’ll be much weaker and sleepier while healing, but have a dramatically lessened recovery time.

- Unnatural eye colors are extremely common in all non-Grey worlds, and things like strange hair colors or even small horns and such occasionally occurred in Black London. It is also common for someone’s appearance to change when their magic is activated, like Maxim’s molten eyes.

- Calling someone “blackhearted” has a significantly stronger connotation in non-Grey worlds.

- Dog-sledding is a thing in the White world, but it typically occurs outside of London due to the need for snow cover.

- All of the worlds have different pet preferences. Birds are the most popular pets in Red, White prefers dogs or mules, and Black likes marine animals/fish (especially octopuses, mantis shrimp, and cuttlefish).

- Also sorta mentioned in canon, but Antari can be much stronger than is seen in the main series. They can specialize in certain spells if given enough training (such as healers being able to regrow limbs) and in theory, one could gain the ability to carry others through world gates. There are also many As spells that have been lost to time. Unfortunately, most current Antari either lack the training or the experience needed to learn these skills.

- Alucard is sometimes uncomfortable post-ACOL during high-profile events, as many noble traditions remind him of his family. He also really misses his crew and being a pirate.

- Nobody liked King Nokil (Maxim’s dad) as he was openly cruel, violent, and selfish; the Storm King, a testament to his volatile personality. He was also known for threatening staff (like he does with Teiren in Steel Prince). When Maxim took over (through a series of trials where he beat Nokil; his father lived for several years after Maxim took the throne and even met Rhy), he was seen as the Sun returning after a Storm.

- Athos, as much as he enjoys Holland’s suffering, also sees him subconsciously as a comfort object, like some people’s lucky tokens or trinkets. Holland provides an immense measure of security as someone strong who can fight, defend, and die unquestioningly for the Danes; this is very useful and comforting for someone who has only ever known violence and insecurity, especially someone who feels at least somewhat responsible for the protection of another. Athos is unaware of this sentiment, but does acknowledge that having Holland as a shield and bodyguard makes him feel safer.

- Rhy hums a lot, especially when he’s thinking.

- Kell often has nightmares centered around boats; while he blames this on his drowning experiences + Rhy’s disappearance, these are actually subconsciously connected to the night his parents sold him. Sometimes, the boat will be on fire (his mother is a strong fire magician).

- Oshoc do occasionally pop up in powerful artifacts in Red, but they are typically too weak to sustain themselves for more than a few hours. They aren’t naturally aggressive; all oshoc, like Osaron, are sort of like AIs- they learn through interaction. However, while it is entirely possible to have a nice oshoc, it’s never been recorded.

- Teiren and Maris regularly meet to discuss magic and whine about their coworkers.

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

To Look On Tempests and Not Be Shaken

Summary: In the wake of a blazing row and an empty apartment, Aaron finds Spencer's well-thumbed copy of Shakespeare's sonnets and recalls the morning after their wedding, when Spencer sat on his lap and read Sonnet 116 to him. Suddenly, everything makes sense.

Tags: angst with a happy ending, fighting and making up, married hotchreid, relationship dynamics, introspection, fluff, shakespeare/literature

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

(Set in S11, AU in which Haley/Aaron divorced in S1 and Aaron/Spencer married in S4.)

It wasn’t really either of their faults: work was relentless at the moment and they hadn’t had any real time for one another in weeks. That’s not really a consolation to either Spencer or Aaron, however, when they’re in the middle of a blazing row that has them both drowning in flames of anger and passion, unable to see one another for the smoke filling their apartment.

“Aaron, this is the fourth case in a row that you’ve stayed at the office past 4 in the morning to wrap up the paperwork,” Spencer shouts, frustration rising in his chest as he tugs at his hair, already feeling far too overwhelmed. Aaron is looking as unbothered and stoic as he always does during their fights, and even though Spencer is fully aware of the emotion that will be stirring under his carefully constructed mask, it doesn’t make it any less exasperating.

“You know as well as I do that this sort of work load is completely unavoidable,” Aaron says lowly, anger finally audible in his voice. It’s not as satisfying as Spencer had hoped. “We can’t keep rehashing this same old argument. I’m the Unit Chief of a team in one of the most prestigious FBI departments. I have a responsibility.”

“You have a responsibility to me and Jack as well,” Spencer cries, fury bubbling over as he thinks of Jack and just how much he deserves. “We deserve your time just as much as fucking serial killers do.”

Aaron visibly flinches as Spencer swears, an occurrence rare enough to indicate serious emotion. “This is exactly the argument I used to have with Haley, Spencer,” he says harshly. “I refuse to have it with you, too. If you can’t handle it then maybe you should leave, just like she did, hm?”

“Have you ever stopped to consider that maybe that means there’s an element of truth in it then, Aaron?” Spencer asks, voice breaking slightly as the scale tips away from uncontained ire towards hopeless misery. He turns away from his husband, trying in vain to conceal his crumpled face and damp eyes. “And you know I would never do that to you; don’t you dare throw your unresolved issues back in my face.”

“I can’t deal with this right now,” Aaron says, voice and face hardened; Spencer can almost see the walls he’s building up again, the stubborn refusal to concede any point. “You’re not being rational. I’m going to bed.”

His stomach twists with the desperation of the situation as he says quietly to Aaron’s turned, retreating back, “What happened to never going to bed angry?” He doesn’t turn back around.

⭐️

Aaron waits in bed for Spencer to join him, fully intending to feign sleep the moment he enters the bedroom but nevertheless longing to know he’s safely tucked next to him in bed. When he hears the quiet click of the front door and checks the time to see he’s been waiting for almost 25 minutes, though, a panicked feeling fills his chest. He throws the covers back and treads out to the living room, only to be met with a decidedly empty room. If he was a more spiritual man he’d say he could still feel the angry aura of their previous argument lingering over the furniture. Really what he feels is the inevitable, empty vacuum a home without Spencer in it is bound to house.

He sits down on the sofa, just on the wrong side of too cold in his threadbare t-shirt and underwear, and buries his head in his hands. The problem is that he knows Spencer’s right. He and Jack both deserve better than this kind of life, of course they do. Jack deserves a father, Spencer deserves a husband. Admitting such a fact, however, requires humility, vulnerability, failure almost. It means telling his boss that he needs reinforcements, that he can’t continue with the 80+ hour weeks, that he’s not as strong as he used to be.

That sort of thing takes a courage that feels so far out of reach, though, and he’s left defending a place he doesn’t want to be in against people he loves more than anything in the world.

Forcing himself out of his miserable carousel of thoughts and regrets, he pulls his head from his hands and catches sight of a note on the coffee table, his name scrawled across it in Spencer’s handwriting. Immediately, his heart sinks: it’s unlikely a love letter. It’s far more likely it’s a note of good riddance, an announcement of abandonment.

Turning it over in his shaking hands, he reads:

I’ve gone to stay with Derek and Penelope for the night. I will pick up Jack from Jessica’s in the morning, on my way home. I love you. Spencer

He immediately feels guilt at ever having thought that Spencer would be cruel enough to leave him in the same way he’s been left himself one too many times. His husband has an incredible amount of love filling his heart, and he’s simply incapable of such cruelty. It’s been a fear of his for many years, that Spencer would grow unhappy but be too kind to leave, prioritising Aaron above himself. He knows it’s Haley’s fault for embedding such fear and doubt in his heart all those years ago, but he can’t help but berate himself for ever doubting Spencer.

It’s not like they’re about to break up. When he considers the situation logically, he knows that. He loves Spencer, Spencer loves him, and ultimately, he’s going to relent. He’s going to draw on whatever shreds of courage remain in his tattered and beaten soul and do whatever it takes to make his family happy, to give them what they deserve. He just has no idea how to cross the gaping chasm that stands in the way of reaching that eventuality.

He goes to place the note back down on the coffee table, but his eyes land on the book it had originally rested on: Spencer’s well-loved copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. He picks it up, sort of absent-mindedly, thumbing the pages the love of his life has read countless times, holding on to the book as an emotional connection to Spencer. It’s travelled their entire relationship with them; he remembers it laying on his spare bedside table back when Spencer visited his apartment in the dead of night, terrified of anyone finding them out. He’d read the poems over and over again, long into the night. Aaron can’t help but smile at the memory of Spencer’s unique quirks.

Eventually, his absent fiddling lands him on a page Spencer’s visited time and time again. A worn leather bookmark Aaron recognises as one of Diana’s gifts marks the page titled Sonnet 116. Tired and lovelorn, he begins reading.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand'ring bark, Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle's compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov'd, I never writ, nor no man ever lov'd. Sonnet 116, William Shakespeare

((Modern Translation, if you’d prefer:

I will not admit that interferences are possible in the union of two people In love. Love that changes when circumstances do is not love, Nor if it bends when someone tries to destroy it: Oh no! It is an eternally fixed point, Which may watch storms but is never shaken by them; it is the guiding star for ever lost ship: Its distance may be measured but its quality cannot be. Love does not fall victim to Time, though features of youth Are eventually entrapped by him; Love doesn’t change as hours and weeks race past, But endures until death. If this is wrong, and I’m proved incorrect, Then I never wrote, and no man ever loved.))

The words come rushing back to him as soon as he reads them: it had been a contender for Spencer’s chosen poem at their wedding. He’d eventually gone with I loved you first by Christina Rosetti, the perfect compliment to his own choice of I love you by Ella Wheeler Wilcox, but on their first morning as a married couple, laid in their warm and comfortable bed, Spencer had pulled out this very book and straddled Aaron’s thighs, reading it to him with an earnest expression. He remembers the air being punched out of his chest as he’d looked up at a bright-eyed 27-year-old Spencer who had been through so much already but still held all the grace and innocence he did on his first day at the BAU.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until a tear runs down his nose and splashes on the page. What really tips him over the edge is reading Spencer’s small, chicken-scratch annotations around the poem, noting different points in their relationship, events between the two of them that prove the words of an Englishman born 400 years earlier.

It’s so easy for him to doubt how much Spencer loves him - insecurities and the trauma of his separation from Haley consume him far too often - but he’s holding the tangible, physical proof. This is undeniable, this is the evidence his doubtful, damaged heart yearns for, and the furious, raging, endlessly tumultuous waters inside him settle for the first time in weeks.

⭐️

The second Aaron’s alarm goes off at 6am, he gets started on the plan he’d formed as soon as the words of Shakespeare’s sonnet had sunk in. The email he’d composed the night before is the first thing his laptop screen displays when he powers it on, and he presses send on the uncompromising, demanding letter he’d addressed to Cruz. Finally feeling good about the entire situation, he turns the coffee maker on and gets dressed; Spencer’s an early riser but he’s determined to get to Derek and Penelope’s before he leaves.

The relief is freeing, and he feels light for the first time in a long time. He hadn’t quite realised just how much it had all been weighing on him until he’d finally found the courage to cut it free.

Armed with two coffees and Shakespeare’s sonnets, he heads downstairs to the taxi he’d ordered the night before. The city races past in front of the slow and steady sunrise, dawn marking a new chapter in Aaron’s life that he’s determined to make worth it. Slowly the thick of the city fades into the suburbs, and the taxi slows down as they wind through the maze of identical looking streets until they arrive at Derek and Penelope’s home.

He pays the taxi driver as quickly as possible and sighs in relief at the sight of Spencer’s car still on the drive as he climbs out of the vehicle, carefully balancing his two coffees, still warm in their thermal mugs. Fully aware that Derek and Penelope are absolutely going to chew him out the minute they lay eyes on him, he hesitantly rings the doorbell.

“Man, what the hell?” Derek exclaims, clearly exasperated as he swings the door open, revealing a sorry looking Aaron Hotchner standing sheepishly on his doorstep.

“I know,” Aaron replies immediately, trying to portray as much regret and understanding with his body language as is possible when holding two coffees with your husband’s most prized possession perched precariously under your arm. “I know, I fucked up, and I’m sorry. I need to see Spencer.”

Derek looks thoroughly put out just being in Aaron’s presence, but after a moment or two of hesitation he relents, opening the door wider to let him through. “Alright,” he sighs. “I’ll ask if he’s okay to see you.”

He parks Aaron in the living room and then leaves to go and find Spencer. Only seconds later, he hears the hurried click of kitten heels on the wooden floor and internally cringes; if facing Derek was bad, facing Penelope will be infinitely more painful.

“Aaron Hotchner,” Penelope shouts before she’s even fully entered the living room, “I have never, and I mean never been more disappointed in you. I don’t think you fully appreciate how lucky you are. You may be my boss but that does not mean I will not chew you out when you screw up this bad. Anyone who makes my Spencer cry is in my bad books for at least two weeks. You are in the dog house, you understand me? The dog house.”

She’s thankfully cut off from continuing her rant by Spencer’s shy, hesitant appearance at the doorway. Penelope immediately rushes over and gives him a hug, whispering something in his ear that Aaron doesn’t catch but makes Spencer giggle. She reaches up to ruffle his hair before patting his cheek fondly and casting a furious glare in Aaron’s direction as she vacates the living room.

“Hi,” Aaron says softly, breaking the silence left in the wake of Storm Penelope. “I bought you a coffee.”

“What are you doing here, Aaron?” Spencer asks, clearly a little confused but still accepting the drink.

“I know you said that you’d come home this morning but I had to come and get you,” he replies, standing up from his seat on the couch and taking a few steps forward. “Look… your note last night, it was on top of this book. And in my absent-minded cloud of misery I was looking through it and came across Sonnet 116.”

A flicker of recognition lights up Spencer’s eyes as his face softens a little at the sight of his beloved book.

“Do you remember? Climbing into my lap on our one day wedding anniversary and reading it to me? Back then I was partly distracted by the gorgeous man in my arms but last night… Spencer, the words hit home in a way I haven’t felt before. Not to mention your annotations; I felt like I was reading a journal of our love story, which I know was probably your intention all along.” He shakes his head, trying to get back on track. “I’ve been an idiot, a rotten fool, and I’m so sorry. I emailed Cruz this morning.

“You did?” Spencer looks up, surprise filling his features for a second before a small, hopeful smile takes over. “What did you say?”

“That I couldn’t continue with the workload and I needed reinforcements. That I would work the same hours for two more weeks to allow them to find an adequate solution, but after that I’ll be reducing my hours to align almost directly with yours,” he says, tentatively gauging Spencer’s reaction.

It’s made pretty easy for him when Spencer’s hesitantly hopeful smile blossoms into a wide grin, relaxing his posture as relief overtakes his body and he throws himself into Aaron’s arms. Aaron buries his face into his husband’s curls and lets himself breathe easy, feeling infinitely better with Spencer wrapped up in his arms again, just where he belongs.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Aaron whispers as he pulls Spencer impossibly closer.

“I’m sorry, too,” Spencer sighs, nestling his face further into Aaron’s neck. “We both said things we shouldn’t have. But, you’re here now, and that’s what counts.”

“I love you, you know that?” Aaron murmurs, pulling away slightly so he can look Spencer in the eyes, trying to convey his sincerity as well as possible.

“I know,” he smiles. “I love you, too.”

“Come on, sweetheart,” Aaron says, patting Spencer’s side gently. “Let’s get out of here before Penelope comes to stab me with her high heels.”

Spencer giggles at that. “I don’t know, maybe, I’d like to see that,” he teases, digging his finger into Aaron’s ribs for good measure.

“Oh, stop it you,” Aaron smiles fondly before kissing the top of Spencer’s head, feeling happier in this moment than he’d ever thought possible again last night. Peace is finally restored in Aaron Hotchner’s heart, all thanks to one rather ancient English playwright and an academic for a husband. “Let’s go and get Jack,” he says, longing to have his whole family back together, to restore the equilibrium of a tumultuous few weeks.

Spencer leans down to kiss his shoulder as they walk out of the Morgan-Garcia household, and it’s enough to keep him warm the whole way home.

@strippersenseii @criminalmindsvibez

#hotchreid #my writing #hotchreid fic #hotchreid writing #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #spencer reid #aaron hotchner/spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid

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thevividgreenmoss · 3 years

Text

My grandfather was awake and lucid for a longish while between late Friday night and Saturday morning apparently first time since this past Sunday when we all thought that was It and crammed ourselves seven people in one sedan that got a flat on the way over of course (as we were leaving the handle of the screen door came off in my hand as I was closing it behind me so the vibe was very on the nose things farcically falling apart that whole goddamn day lol) but then when we made it he was smiling and laughing and talking to and teasing everyone that was there, albeit with much more effort than it would have taken him even just a week earlier when he was already in a really frail state because of his hip surgery. My sister happened to be up later than she usually ever is and got to video call and chat with him for a bit I wanted terribly for my cousin in Colorado to be able to also but by the time he could get through my grandpa's blood pressure had suddenly spiked or something and he'd drifted back into that borderline unconscious state so they didn't get a chance to talk which makes me want to claw my fucking skin off of my face but who knows maybe another opportunity will present itself hopefully it does like he suddenly became really talkative and energized the other day after not having said more than maybe a couple sentences over the few previous days like I was there with him for several hours on Thursday and the entire time he didn't say a word and only opened his eyes once for like half a second and even that I might have been imagining after sitting there sleep-deprived and holding his hand trying not to cry because then my mom would start crying and then my aunt and on and on and if he's conscious at that point he'll start to get worried and his heart rate will destabilize but after that for this one stretch without anyone expecting it he was really talkative and alert and joking around with the nurses and doctors and all that for a while but then later yesterday afternoon he started to get disoriented and drift in and out of the present in between dreaming and waking again at one point apparently he kept saying 'look at my shoes' to my mom and her sisters and they thought it was just just the medication/pain-induced delirium talking but he kept insisting and eventually said 'you're not taking me seriously' and I guess gave up? Or said it a few more times I'm not clear on the course of events I only heard all this secondhand when my younger aunt, who also got diagnosed with cancer late last year but thankfully is more or less in the clear now, got back home last night and she and I went into his room and took all the shoes out of the cabinet he keeps them in and like looked inside and turned over and examined the soles of every pair, took the cushion insert things out of the ones that had them, checked for scooby doo-esque hidden doors, all that but there was nothing there just shoes. Her kids flew back out yesterday morning, the older one's tentatively returning to Toronto in the next week or so she had a painfully rough time in some ways her first couple of years and then abruptly had to be uprooted and leave because of covid then everything with her mom and in time honored eldest daughter tradition bearing the brunt of the familial frustration and insanity associated with that and now everything with our grandpa I really really want her senior year to go smoothly and be enjoyable and memorable in a manner opposite to how this past year+ has been I'm so worried about her and her little sister's starting freshman year there in the fall and I'm terribly worried about her in a whole different way like she's still really attached to her parents in this innocent way that still strongly resembles like a baby's adoring my mom hung the moon type attachment and it can be especially hard being away for the first time ever when that's the case...like she's hyper hypersensitive even by my family's standards lmao but she does have this sort of self-possession and inner groundedness that no one can quite pin down but it's

definitely there and maybe that

could carry her through I really hope so...they were saying to come up to visit them in the fall hopefully I can find a job soon after returning to Texas and like be able to afford to do that and also like keep paying the bills and shit lol in either case I hope so so badly that they'll be okay like I think they will be the women in my family are all really strong but they've also had to be because of various fucked circumstances and I don't want that to keep having to be the case...my grandpa's a Strong Woman in a certain way also honestly lmao like my mom's aunts have always been like your father raised you in a way beyond even most mothers which like who fucking receives let alone genuinely deserves that kind of praise from their in-laws lmao let alone a man from a notoriously patriarchal culture of a generation when fathers from any culture barely had any involvement in their children's upbringing at all which I mean most still don't but even more so back then and like literally everyone we've been hearing from or seeing drop by at the hospital has a story of how at one point or another my grandpa was there for them when no one else was like distant cousins variously removed and loose family friends all with something about how he comforted me when no one else could, I remember word for word what he said to me when I suffered some loss of my own, he's the strongest man in our family, the best times we ever had were when he was near us, when he'd take us out, his youngest brother's children saying he cared for and spoiled them as if their were his own after their dad died suddenly when they were just kids, my mom's third cousin whose own father was with her till a late age saying that he was even more of a father to me than my own father, his other brother's son who was ostracized for decades by his immediate family on some straight up racist ass bullshit on the part of his mom and older brother because he married a black woman but my grandpa stayed in touch and made sure my mom and uncle did as well and made sure we all got together when he'd came to the states, like even now lying there on what very well might be his literal deathbed when he can barely talk he was telling my uncle he's worried about him and he needs to go home and rest, asking who's taking care of the house, are the kids all okay even at this point his thoughts are for others. After I put his shoes back in the cabinet I closed it and opened the one beside just in case I guess just in case what I don't know but it was just like standard cabinet stuff clothes a shaving kit and a couple of what I assume are photo albums that I didn't feel like I should open for some reason and a few old books, a collection of Ghalib's which I can't really read very easily if at all because it's in Urdu lol, a history of government college of Lahore where his father was teaching at the time of his death and the two philosophy textbooks my great grandfather had written himself, Inductive & Deductive Reasoning, and inside the latter I found a handful of yellowed pages torn out of an old notebook upon which mostly seem to be translations of french poems and I think maybe a song or two? I guess old coursework or just for funsies I'm not sure whether written by my grandfather or his own father. My khala was mentioning just the other day that she'd kept one of my grandpa's old notebooks marked as having been designated for biology but inside it were no actual notes just urdu poetry which she wasn't sure whether it was his own original tossed off work or something the lifelong frustrated creative transcribed while bored in class. The night I got here I was looking through his bookshelves after everyone had gone to bed and then a couple of weeks ago I was sitting in the living room by myself watching archer when my cousin came and sat down next to me upset and unable to sleep on her own first night here and I held her and tried not to cry and then went through the same bookshelves again, this time with my cousin who we came to Pakistan for the first time after moving to the US

to see being born who turned three

the day we arrived on what until this current trip was the last time I was here her little sister having just been born earlier that same year (whose life I may or may not have saved when I caught her after she was dropped by the person holding her (the fact that (parentheticals within parentheticals!) I may or may not have been the one who dropped her in the first place is immaterial imo not that I'm the one on trial here but what's important is that I caught her and if anything this would be an even more athletically impressive and frankly heroic incident if I'd been the one that was holding her to begin with since I was 8/9 years old at the time and there wasn't much of a distance for her to fall and yet I kept her from hitting the ground like talk about reflexes like that's what's important and what's more important than even that @ my year older cousin (whose younger sister was the first baby in the family after myself whose arrival in this world when I was three had me positively giddy in the way that young children get when witnessing the miracle of even younger children, who's the only other one of the cousins that's been here during all this, just me and the three I got to see as darling little babies) who was the only other person in the room with me at the time, is that we take this to our fucking graves no one can hear a word of this least of all any adults in the house who like not that they're the ones on trial here either but like who allowed for this scenario to transpire in the first place where two children and an infant are in a room by themselves unsupervised in retrospect that's somewhat irresponsible not that I'd ever hold it against them or even mention it because then they might get mad and not let me hold my little cousin anymore and I do love holding my little baby cousin and carrying her around everywhere, mostly without incident)) neither of whom I'd see in person again until we visited them in Canada the summer after I graduated college the trip during which I finished the last of the Neapolitan novels the day after landing and turned 22 the day after their mother, my younger khala, turned 43, looking through my nana's bookshelves with my baby cousin no longer a baby but a U of T classics major entering her senior year, noting the overlaps with our own, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, George Eliot, the same exact copies of Cheever and Kafka's collected shorts, Umberto Eco, Proust, wondering what the various titles meant to him or what they might say about him, wondering how much of even the version of him that can be hypothesized based off his library I'm missing now that I'm limited to the much reduced version of what had been in his old home in Lahore (when he visited us after my junior year of hs and my mom was trying to convince him to downsize and move in with my other aunt with whom he's been living the past several years, the one who most resembles my grandfather the only one that has his cheekbones my khala whose eyes have sunken all the way into her skull before my eyes with exhaustion and grief over the past two weeks, when my mom was like what's the point of just hanging onto a bunch of books that you've already read: I look at them [dramatic pause], and I feel happy [my mom sighing equally dramatically in.exasperation, me cracking up in the background]) the city I was born in the house where I spent the first almost five years of my life before we moved to the US to join my dad who'd moved back shortly after my mom became pregnant with what turned out to be me, abu nana's house with the garden we'd walk through every morning holding his hand and following along as he puttered around with his plants in the garden in the house in the city he had to leave to move into my khala's house in Islamabad where I've been the past almost a month now where two weeks ago he suddenly came down with pneumonia and had to be dragged to a hospital in Rawalpindi where he's been since, not in his house, my nana's house, with the garden in the city I haven't seen since the last time I was in this country the

summer I

turned nine the day after my khala turned 30 the day before my other khala turned 32(?) the summer I first remember obsessive compulsive disorder becoming an overwhelming aspect of my consciousness although it was there before, the first summer of the Iraq war and being terrified watching the Iraq war unfold on the BBC evening news my nana would turn on

at dinner time and hearing for the first time or maybe just the first time I remember the night we left the phrase 'the rich will get richer and the poor will get poorer' from my younger khala talking to her sisters and some family friends that had come over to see us off feeling terrified and cold then embarrassed because she noticed my face visibly fall from across the room and told my mom and I was like godammit everyone knows I'm scared now smhead then crying the entire flight back home because I missed everyone and maybe had a little kid premonition that I wouldn't return to my nana's house and I would be years and years till I saw any of them again some I still haven't or maybe there was nothing premonitory about it but in either case that's the way it turned out. I do feel grateful I got to see him again at all, when he last came to the US late 2016-early 2017 I was sure it would be the last time we would be in the same room. I'd make breakfast for us every morning and we'd eat together and the entire day I'd sit next to him inhaling secondhand smoke and talking and reading. I was in the midst of my initial aborted attempt to read Swann's way when he arrived. I'd gotten to Guermantes way last summer but I couldn't find a secondhand copy so I had to read it via ebook and that didn't feel right so I abandoned it until now I've been reading a copy pulled from his bookshelf. Last he visited was the first time I learned we were both Garcia Marquez-heads which I'd kind of assumed before and I showed him Mad Men which he heavily fucked with and also every John Le Carre adaptation I could track down online. From the first time I read one hundred years of solitude the summer after freshman year of college the passage describing Colonel Aureliano Buendia's death already absolutely and unbearably heartwrenching enough immediately brought thoughts of my grandfather, aching aching sorrow over the solitude that he himself existed within in all the fucking pain his life has been inordinately filled with grief over the knowledge of this inevitable final separation from him after so many years and so much distance already having separated him from the people he loved and cared for and he loved and cared for so many people so deeply with such sincerity and beauty and endless endless warmth and compassion and humor when Gabo wrote of the colonel trying to reach back through to his memories and being unable to after previously recalling that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice even years later, as he faced the firing squad, at the moment of his death like a 'baby chick' my poor frail beautiful grandfather appearing exactly the same way when he'd take off his dentures and curl over to the side to sleep, then when awake but still half asleep hearing your voice having brought his apple cider vinegar and garlic concoction or a cup of tea or just coming by to hold his hand or play with his beard the way all of his grandchildren have at one point or another and smiling with his eyes still closed smiling bright and wide the expression of a precious little cat purring as you scratch under its chin always the most beautiful smile and even as his hair turned white and his body withered and wrinkled and shrunk his cheekbones while still not bad long ago ceased being the way they were in that picture from his wedding day back when he he looked like young Robert De Niro's much much prettier Kashmiri cousin from then until now always that same radiance and those same quick-witted and kind and bright bright bright sparkling eyes. The past month and a half I've been feeling like I'm seeing my own mother dying before my eyes along with her father, my adorable beloved abu nana, I can't even begin to comprehend how she must be feeling right now I feel like I'm witnessing her death in advance through all of this and losing the part of her that is him even though I know that's not actually the case. Things have been so fucking painful and complicated between us but the one thing we've shared that's never

been painful is our love for him. When he left after his last visit four years ago I spent the next two days barely able to even talk. Compliments or like any positive comments directed in my directions have almost always caused me this reflexive discomfort and uneasiness but whenever he or anyone else would say that I'm his favorite grandchild I'd want to hold on to that as closely as i possibly can. I don't want him to leave us and more than that I want for whatever happens to at least happen with him back at home but neither of those things seem likely right now although who the fuck knows. I hope his last thoughts can be of flowers, like Kafka's, and Lispector's, or of love, wherever he is I hope it's not asking too much to hope for that at least. For someone that spent his life so deeply immersed within that Garciamarquesian solitude he never made those around him feel any way other than at home, safe and warm and loved and adored and adorable and lovable and at home not because of a place not even the garden at the house in Lahore but with him always always I've never felt more at home than during the times I spent near him, and his love and his flowers

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cinnaminsvga · 4 years

Text

intermission • v | moonshine

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. jihope + seokjin) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: homoerotic tension (?), delulu shippers, seokjin is a nosy motherfucker (as per usual) → words: 7.3K → a/n: it’s been,, ten million years,, sorry to my fox rain readers but let’s just say my brain has been a smoothie for a while but now!! it is still a smoothie but perhaps a little chunkier ;w; anyway, we love jihope in this household,, and seokjin,, is seokjin,, we love him too

— • masterlist | prev | intermission v | next • —

In a small studio apartment somewhere close to your university campus, notoriously handsome and oh-so-talented Kim Seokjin wakes up in cold sweat, his heart beating a mile a second and a chill running down his spine. “There’s been a disturbance in the force,” he mutters lowly to himself, a drop of sweat making its way down his razor-sharp jaw.

He had been in the midst of a wondrous dream wherein he, the universe’s protagonist, was being showered with praise and adoration after the sensational debut of his autobiographical documentary. Men and women alike were at his feet, peppering his heaven-sent toesies with the worship that he deserves. Everyone was there, even you had been there, his self-declared rival! But just as you were about to reach the head of the line, lips puckered and ready to go, Seokjin was ripped away from his kissies without warning.

You, of course, were not the reason for his mind-bending, earth-shattering, cock-jizzing premature arousal from his slumber. No –– Kim Seokjin does not wake up prematurely, for every moment of his life is a beacon of perfection. Only events of the most catastrophic order were able to wake him up from his slumber, so whatever cosmic force caused him to awaken must’ve been no joke. He had to take this seriously, as it might mean thousands of lives were at stake.

Seokjin jumps to his feet with a flourish, his entire body oozing grace, so much so that it would make any grown ballerina cry. He rushes to unplug his phone from its charger, unlocking it and immediately going to search through his social media accounts. As he scans through the tweets and posts, his well-trained eye sifts through the dreary and the mundane, his only intent to find whatever it is that might forewarn him of a natural disaster.

His follower count is stable. His engagement graphs show that his posts are at an all-time high. To any other novice, this might have been a sign that his gut feeling had been nothing but a fluke. Surely, nothing is wrong in the universe? But no, Seokjin is not some mere amateur! He wouldn’t be as successful at being a prick celebrity social media influencer if he didn’t have the reflexes that he did. He has to keep searching and pick out any little thing that might indicate that something was amiss.

It takes a hot minute (three hours to be exact) for Seokjin to find it, but he does. And oh, his intuition had been right: this was a level nine catastrophe. To give you an understanding of what that might mean, then here’s some context to scale: a level eight catastrophe would be if you ever found that he might have had a crush on you when you first met each other; a level ten catastrophe would be if Kim Seokjin lost all his followers overnight and was forced to relinquish his title as an Instagram baddie. So yes, level nine was dire, if not almost life-threatening.

The evidence?

...

To the untrained eye, it might look like nothing. But to a delulu devoted JiHope stan? This was a living nightmare.

Oh god, the signs are all there! The context, the timestamps, the emojis… They all made sense in Seokjin’s complicated maze of a mind. Like a seasoned detective, he’s able to connect all the dots to make a valid hypothesis that yes, JiHope is in danger of breaking up*.

[Addendum: Please note that JiHope has never dated before. Kim Seokjin is a lunatic and the constraints of reality do not apply to those of his kind. Please read the rest of this report with that in mind. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

“FUCK!” he exclaims (with feeling), dropping to his knees as he cries (with feeling). The signs are all there: something is causing a rift between his two favorite homos* from staying together and he, as the chosen one, must do something to save them before it’s too late.

[Addendum: Well, technically he’s right, but Jimin is bisexual at the very least, but that’s a matter of semantics… But that’s pretty much as “factual” as Kim Seokjin is ever going to get, so let’s take that as a blessing. Noted by: Min Yoongi (again).]

He can’t jump headfirst into this madness, however. He needs a plan; not only did it need to be foolproof, but it also had to be undeniably fabulous and downright heinous. Seokjin never did see himself as the morally right hero from those dreary Marvel comic books despite the allure of their skintight spandex and ostentatious capes. No–– Seokjin is of a higher calling, one where the hero needs to pull his dirtiest tricks in order to save the day.

Which is why Seokjin finds no error in his ways when he decides to stalk Jimin and Hoseok throughout their day, trying to pinpoint which clogs in his JiHope machine need oiling and lubing.

Nothing is ever too much for Kim Seokjin. In fact, he’ll go out of his way to follow them to their homes if he has to, but luckily (for Jimin and Hoseok), he doesn’t need to go that far. In fact, it’s a downright fucking miracle that his intuition from this morning had been correct, made apparent by hour ten (10) of his stalking misadventures:

It’s nearing five in the afternoon. Kim Seokjin’s patience and determination has been put to the test before, but never like this. He could never ever imagine himself setting foot in this damned place, what with its overflowing abundance of knowledge, nerds, and public displays of integrity. He nearly gagged the moment he took one step in the library, and not even the thought of seeing Jimin and Hoseok together was enough to settle the bile climbing up his throat.

To make matters worse, you were there too. Not that Seokjin particularly cares (he does) that you are, but there is something… annoying about seeing you just sitting there, teaching Hoseok like it was normal*.

[Addendum: It is fucking normal. As per usual, Kim Seokjin is a dipshit who has never worked a day in his life and does not understand the notion of helping others study for their courses. To this day, I can’t understand how he’s passing his classes, though I’m kind of afraid of finding out how. Some things are better left… unsolved. Noted by: Min “I’m-not-paid-enough-for-this” Yoongi.]

He had been busy following Jimin around before this, but he was forced to change targets when one of his adoring fans had distracted him while asking for an autograph, causing him to lose track of Jimin entirely. It was of little consequence, however, given that he knows that Jimin was also going to be tutored by you later on anyway, so he just hopes that Jimin doesn’t do something stupid while he’s out of sight for the time being.

Normally, he’d try to find out where Jimin was going next, but the hardest part about following Jimin is that he didn’t have a fixed schedule like Hoseok did. Even Seokjin didn’t quite understand what Jimin was majoring in, and he prides himself in knowing every single detail of both their lives. But for now, it didn’t matter; at least Seokjin was left with one schedule to follow, so it made sense to just let Jimin be and go to wherever Hoseok was probably at the moment.

When Seokjin had finally located him walking out of his last class, Hoseok hadn’t appeared all that different from his usual demeanor. A bit dazed maybe, but that could be brushed off due to the essay he had to cram for that morning (a fact that Seokjin had learned through various connections). He walks lazily to the nearby library where he would be meeting you, and with a heavy heart, Seokjin follows suit.

You were already there when the two of them arrive. Seokjin is lucky when your eyes train automatically on Hoseok, ignoring him completely. In any other scenario, Seokjin would’ve felt incredibly scorned by this. He would’ve immediately stomped over to where you sat, making sure to announce his presence to you and everyone else within a fifty-foot radius. But today was not an ordinary day, so Seokjin is forced to hold his tongue and save his bitchin’ for another day. And so, he quietly slinks away to a seat a few tables away, his contemptuous aura causing all the previously seated students to vacate the table in a rush.

Much to his chagrin, it feels like Seokjin has just wasted an hour as he watches the two of you being productive (Seokjin lets out a shudder), not even bothering to film your tutoring session due to how little information he was getting. The only point of interest is how pissed off you seem, though it’s not like Seokjin has ever witnessed you in any other state anyway. He watches as Hoseok’s sunny disposition slowly chips away at your foul mood, and to his awe and surprise, sees you crack a smile just as the hour was about to pass.

It isn’t like that was important to Seokjin, though. So what if he noticed that you were happier with Hoseok around? It’s not every day that Seokjin catches you in a good mood (and he reluctantly admits that it’s always nice to see you smiling, even if his presence unfailingly causes a deep-set frown to appear on your lips.)

That was of little importance, he told himself.

Seokjin had hoped that when Hoseok’s tutoring session would end that he might manage to see him and Jimin cross paths. Unfortunately, it seems like Hoseok has other plans as he quickly shuffles his things into his bag, looking apologetic as he waves a hasty goodbye to you. You and Seokjin gaze at the empty spot he has left in his wake, both of you knowing even without Hoseok’s admittance that this rift between him and Jimin was far deeper than either of you had imagined.

Seeing Hoseok so skittish has a terrible effect on one’s psyche, and Seokjin feels despair growing in the pit of his stomach at what might be an unsalvageable situation for the JiHope community.

“Nonsense!�� his inner-voice (that suspiciously sounds like you) chastises, whacking him with a proverbial rolled-up newspaper. “There is no such thing as unsalvageable when it comes to the magnificent Kim Seokjin!”

“You’re right,” Seokjin says (out loud), slamming his fists on the table. The jittery librarian’s assistant by the front desk jumps up in surprise, but Seokjin pays him no mind.

Seokjin is so immersed by his own internal monologue that he doesn’t notice the aforementioned librarian’s assistant leave his station with a small handwritten note clutched tightly in his hand. Seokjin also doesn’t notice when he speaks to you with pink dusting the apples of his cheeks before returning to his desk, sans note*.

[Addendum: I’M SO MAD WHY DOESN’T ANYONE NOTICE FUCKING JUNGKOOK??? NEXT TIME I SEE SEOKJIN IT’S ON FUCKING SIGHT HOW DARE HE NOT SEE MY LIL BABY WALK TO HIS ***** AND FULFIL ALL MY HOPES AND DREAMS? I’M GONNA KILL YOU KIM SEOKJIN! (Angrily) Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to arrive, and he’s kind of hard to miss with how loud his entrance is. Seokjin nods in approval as the younger enters the drab library with an astounding flourish, complete with his hair gently flowing in the (nonexistent) wind and hips swaying to the (nonexistent) beat.

None of this out of the ordinary, especially with how unfazed the general library populace was to Jimin’s commotion. What is a little different, however, is the beaming, oversaturated, downright diabetic smile on his face, complete with his signature eyes creased into their cute little crescents.

It isn’t that Jimin wasn’t a naturally sunny person; on the contrary, his kind and gregarious personality is what drew Seokjin into shipping him with Hoseok in the first place. But there was something about this level of overflowing giddiness that is a bit… disconcerting, for lack of a better word.

Even you appeared to be dumbstruck by Jimin’s odd mood. You squint curiously at Jimin, taking his worksheets from his hands without another word. Seokjin covertly takes out his phone to pretend to take a selfie, but proceeds to tape the whole tutoring session for him to review later that night. He strains his ears to try and catch the bits and pieces of your conversation with Jimin, but he’s left high and dry when he realizes that you were the type who actually liked to whisper at the library, further foiling his plans.

“Dammit,” he mutters to himself, hastily shoving his “textbooks” into his sling bag as he moves to a table slightly closer to the two of you. He doesn’t bother unpacking them again on the table, foregoing the pretense that he was actually there to “study” when in fact he had goals much loftier than those of an ordinary university student.

He carefully adjusts his camera, trying his best to stay out of your and Jimin’s view. He cranes his head forward as far as he can, face crumpling (handsomely) from the strain.

Seokjin had missed it when he was busy relocating to his better position, but it seems like you had finally gotten fed up with Jimin’s strange behavior. He only sees Jimin look shocked by your irritability, but that quickly fades away as his previously dopey smile comes back at full force. Knowing you, your eye is probably twitching right now, but Seokjin attributes that to the stick permanently stuck up your ass.

“It’s, umm…” Jimin looks extremely bashful all of a sudden, and Seokjin makes sure to zoom in on his face for better analysis later. There’s a slight pause, and both you and Seokjin wait for Jimin to continue. “Do you know… uh…” He takes a deep breath, blushing all the while. “Y/N, you know Lee Sera, right?”

Since you’re faced away from Seokjin, he doesn’t get to see what type of reaction you might be sporting on your face. He has a guess though, and that’s mostly because he already knows what Lee Sera means to you.

Seokjin only just saw the forum post this morning when he was going through his social media. Since he was one of the only people who actually knew you were the author, he’d known from the get-go that Lee Sera had probably written that post revealing herself as the author as a way to get easy clout. Nothing annoyed Seokjin more than people getting more famous than him, so he was honestly a strongly-worded call-out post away from revealing the truth to the masses, but was eventually stopped by the thought of your desperate face from days ago.

As much as Seokjin was a slut for drama, even he isn’t that mean. He can be mean in other ways, such as by putting an ugly filter on your face as he continues to videotape you without your consent. Case in point:

“What?” you say, almost shouting. Unbeknownst to you, there is a pooping baby currently superimposed on your forehead. The film looks shaky at best, but that’s all because of how hard Seokjin is shaking from trying not to laugh.

“Do you know if she likes anyone?” he replies, still dreamy. The AR pooping baby is also on his head, but Jimin manages to pull the look off.

Seokjin waits for your explosion to come, but he underestimates your self-control because he completely misses the next few words you say from how calmly and quietly you speak, though he only imagines that you must be on the way to a mental breakdown soon enough.

The calm before the storm, Seokjin thinks giddily to himself. He could always post your mental breakdown on Youtube for a couple thousand views. C’mon… let’s go viral, baby!

Jimin watches you eagerly from the sides and waits for your response, but you’re too busy short-circuiting right in front of him to give one. Seokjin almost feels sorry for you, but he’s too busy trying not to burst into laughter as it is. God, you’re such a fucking sad mess.

Lucky for you, your timer goes off to signal the end of your tutoring session, and Seokjin notices the way your shoulders slacken with relief. And Jimin seems to have forgotten all about his query because he’s started to pack his things already, humming softly to himself. Once he finishes, he pulls out his phone to read something on his screen, tapping away through his social media as he waits for you to say goodbye.

You’re too busy packing away your own things that you don’t notice when Jimin’s eyes begin to bug out, his mouth dropping and his nostrils flaring with the intensity of his breathing. When he scrolls a little bit further down, he lets out a sharp gasp, catching you and Seokjin off guard.

Jimin has just seen the post, didn’t he? Either that, or he saw porn on his timeline, though Seokjin doesn’t think that would excite Jimin as much as the former would. You seem to guess the same, judging by how stiff you become at his exclamation.

“Y/N! Y/N, she–– she’s––!”

Your fight or flight instincts activate, and Seokjin has to scramble after you as you powerwalk out of the library, desperate to get away from Jimin and his revelation. Unfortunately, you’re not entirely in your best shape right now, so it would be an absolute miracle if you were ever to outpace Park “abs of steel” Jimin. Jimin continues to titter beside you, unaware of the waves of tension running rivers down your form.

“She’s amazing, isn’t she? And she’s so humble to have kept quiet about the whole thing, too. Wah, she’s so…” Seokjin hears Jimin say, and he has to stop himself from snorting at how blatantly love blind Jimin seems to be. Seokjin isn’t anywhere near as good as you when it comes to writing (though he hates to admit it), but even he knows that Lee Sera isn’t as capable as you are. Jimin must really be a sucker for bitches in tight skirts and basic nude pumps because honestly… Why have the knock-off when you can have real Gucci?*

[Addendum: Hey it’s me again… Just wanted to say… Why is Seokjin lowkey kinda making me wanna ship him with Y/N… This is for real weird… Stop this… I’m scared… Noted by: Confused Min Yoongi.]

“I never really paid it much attention, but now that I’m rereading the poem… she’s so talented.” Jimin continues to gush, and you look half a second away from painting the walls with your vomit. Your head is bowed, so you don’t notice when the library doors open and a student in a loose white shirt and flowy black pants enters, looking as far removed from the environment as Seokjin did. “It’s no wonder it blew up so much, she’s such a gifted––”

“Who’s such a gifted what?” the new intruder asks. Kim Taehyung stops right in front of you in all his indie glory, and the sudden apparition of another of one of your “muses” must have frayed your unraveling mind even further. Seokjin is already turning his camera to your face with a dramatic pan left zoom, the pooping baby filter still on your head. It slips a turd onto your grimacing face.

Jimin, ever the sweet himbo, has already forgotten about you and instead rushes over to Taehyung with the news. “Tae! The author of that poem you’re always raging about––”

Seokjin watches with interest as Taehyung elbows Jimin strongly in the gut, a strong blush coating his cheeks.

Jimin continues, undeterred. “The author of the poem, it’s Lee Sera! I know I always ignored you when you talked about it, but now…” Seokjin has already stopped listening in favor of watching the way Taehyung’s expression slowly morphs from bashful embarrassment to careful indifference. His eyebrows raise even further when Taehyung’s gaze sweeps towards you, unwavering despite the animated prattlings of his best friend beside him.

Inch-resting… Inch-resting indeed…

Seokjin leaves then, not wanting to be caught by any of you as he slinks away unseen. He stops his recording, an array of thoughts swimming through his head as he tries to piece together the puzzle in front of him. He’ll need to follow you, Jimin, and Hoseok again, and he knows in the pit of his stomach that the tsunami is fast approaching.

x x x x x

And so, Seokjin follows the three of you around like a parasite, waiting for any of you to drop the ball on him. It’s the next Monday now, and he’s still not any closer to witnessing the “climax” of his JiHope prophecy. While he is aware that Lee Sera is undoubtedly going to be the catalyst for breaking his ult ship, he can’t exactly fix the problem unless something wrong happens first.

Of course, he could always slip a laxative into Sera’s disgusting tummy tea when she isn’t looking, but Seokjin finished using all of them up when he slipped them into your breakfast a few weeks ago. Plus, drinking tummy tea is punishment enough, so he’ll hold his punches for now.

Seokjin has a strong feeling that today is going to be the day where something finally shifts. He doesn’t know why he thinks this, though he likes to tell himself it’s a God-given gift of JiHope senses, but he digresses.

He’s starting to lose hope in his trusty JiHope senses, however, when he watches another fruitless tutoring session between you and Hoseok. Man, if not for the fact that Seokjin was a delulu JiHope shipper, he’d totally be the type to shove Hoseok down the toilet in middle school. That dude… he’s too smart and studious for him, and Seokjin is always threatened by anyone who can get a score above 4 in an exam.

Hoseok leaves in a rush as per usual, and Seokjin has since figured out that it wasn’t because the English major was keen on rushing back home to jack off. Hoseok’s eyes search around frantically as he exits the library, like he’s afraid of running into a certain someone. It causes Seokjin’s grip on his pencil prop to tighten, so much so that he snaps it in half when he sees it happen for the third session in a row.

The situation in the JiHope fandom is much worse than he can ever imagine, and Seokjin resolves himself to fix it no matter what. He’ll even ask you for help, if worst comes to worst.

Hoseok practically leaves a dust trail in his wake, hurriedly vacating the premises just as you say goodbye. Just as Hoseok leaves, Jimin enters the scene with his signature bubbly laughter echoing through the rows of shelves. Seokjin turns his head towards the sound, but he can feel something is amiss already. There’s… someone with him.

I can smell the cheap drug store perfume all the way from here. Seokjin sneers to himself, crinkling his nose as the sound of another pair of footfalls confirms his suspicions right away. When he turns to look at you, the look of utter rage and disbelief on your face is almost enough to make him forget about the horrendous stench of Lee Sera.

Sera tears herself away from Jimin when she catches sight of you, and Seokjin’s heart clenches when he sees the utter look of confusion replacing the grin on Jimin’s face. She was just draped over Jimin’s arm a few seconds ago, but the complete 180 definitely must have bewildered the poor lovesick fool.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Lee Sera craved the attention she was being given after coming out as the “author” of the poem, though Seokjin finds her neediness distasteful. As someone who loved being in the limelight, Seokjin didn’t go around taking other people’s credit for his success! Clearly, he was the better one (as he always is in any situation).

Anyway, point stands: you look like you’re about to shit yourself from anger. Seokjin isn’t really listening to the conversation between the two of you, instead focusing on both of your body languages. Sera is playing the role of the remorseful peasant, begging for reconciliation from you, the ireful landlady who refuses to watch another second of her quivering lip.

It’s all very dramatic. Even though Seokjin is mostly recording the fight for analysis purposes, he’s probably going to keep the video for archival purposes as well. The rage, the hurt, the chaos… Seokjin could turn this entire narrative into its own wildly popular musical! He would obviously play himself as the omnipotent, all-seeing jack-of-all-trades, and you’d probably be played by some hag he can cast from the street. Seokjin can almost feel the Tony award jutting up his ass.

Slap! Seokjin jerks to attention and his dreams of his musical fade as he watches, slack-jawed, at the aftermath of your rage. The sound reverberates so loudly that Seokjin feels his ears ringing. In his surprise, he instinctively turns off his camera, ready to go and join stop the fight. Before he can take a step forward, however, a whirlwind shoves past him in a blur, but Seokjin already knows from his lean form that Hoseok had come to intervene. Seokjin hadn’t even noticed the lilac-haired boy was still around the library, but it doesn’t matter now that he’s here to save the day like the bishounen protagonist that he is.

Hoseok holds you back, but it does nothing to quell your anger. “How could you say that to him!” you cry, arms struggling to free themselves from Hoseok to throttle Sera. You look a bit like a rabid animal, teeth bared as you squirm in Hoseok’s hold.

To the side, Jimin chokes up in silence. He’s begun to regain his senses, limbs shifting as he prepares to escape. Seokjin doesn’t miss the shine in his eyes, tears forming and threatening to fall. He turns on his feel, high-tailing out of there without another word.

Hoseok says something into your ear and you nod mindlessly in response. He lets you go, watches as you chase after Jimin. His jaw is set, fists clenched by his sides, but he doesn’t make a move to follow. He takes one last look at Sera’s bamboozled expression, tuts angrily to himself, and walks away in the opposite direction.

Seokjin is speechless.

What the fuck was that? Seokjin isn’t a stranger to the current happenings of your sad love heptagon, or whatever the fuck you want to call it. It probably could have been solved much sooner if you just confessed to him already, but he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy the drama*.

[Addendum: She literally does not have a crush on Seokjin. If she did, I’d block her immediately. I didn’t raise Y/N for her to fall in love with this psychopath. PLEASE. Signed: Min Yoongi.]

No, Seokjin isn’t confused about the whole Sera thing. What he’s more confused about is why Hoseok isn’t going to comfort his boyfriend lover homie like he’s supposed to! Something must have caused a rift in their friendship, and Seokjin is determined to find out and fix this mess once and for all! There’s no need to fear for Seokjin is here!*

[Addendum: “Hallelujah!” said no one ever. I hate this dude. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

x x x x x

After spending an inexcusable amount of time planning and plotting later that night, Seokjin comes to campus early the next day to put his incredibly profound plan into motion. Lucky for Seokjin, he’s equipped with a myriad of skills that go beyond that of acting and being a nuisance, so it comes as no surprise that he’s quite handy with Photoshop. He uses his Amazing Incredible Fantastic Photoshop skillz to their limits to print out a dozen or so fake posters for a new dance exhibition on Saturday.

Why? Because Seokjin is a genius of course! He knows for certain that Jimin will want to attend the exhibition to cheer himself up after the whole Sera debacle. He always did like watching the university’s dance club from the windows, always wistfully looking but never joining even though he COULD dance if he WANTED to but of course he wouldn’t! Because his beloved Hoseokie-hyung wouldn’t be there to be his partner and it’s all very sad and romantic, yadayadayada… Long story short, Seokjin is whipped for this BL trope and he will die on this hill if he has to!

However, Hoseok is going to be a bit harder to bait... He’d never be caught dead attending a dance exhibition, so Seokjin has to scavenge the last remaining brain cells he has to think of an event that Hoseok would want to go to. He settles on making a fake poster for a book signing by Pi Ness Hughman that is “mandatory” for all English Literature majors to attend. He even goes the whole way and makes a spoof e-mail to send to Hoseok, and no, Seokjin will not be explaining how he did that because he might be bordering on being a criminal, but that doesn’t mean he wants other people to be criminals too. That’s just how great of a person he is!

And what does any of this have to do with anything? Well… He’s going to lock them together inside a classroom and hope that they solve their differences there. Is Seokjin certain that his plan is going to work? Not at all. Is it more likely to use this as an excuse to get inspiration for his upcoming 100K slow burn enemies to lover fic that he’s been planning on starting? Absolutely.

Point of the matter is that Team Kim Seokjin never loses, and he’ll still end up on top even if everything goes to shit, and that is honestly all that matters.

Seokjin proceeds with his plan, going as smoothly as he can. He places the posters around areas that he is sure the duo would pass by. He also makes sure to accidentally “misplace” other posters and advertisements on the cork board that might serve as distractions, but you didn’t hear that from him. He watches stealthily from the shadows, carefully keeping track of their movements to make sure that they see the posters and that everything goes according to keikaku*.

[Addendum: Hey, it’s Yoongi again. I just wanted to say that I saw Seokjin when he was doing this because I caught him taking down some of the ads near my residence, and let me just say that his version of “making sure they see his fake posters” is literally just shoving the papers in their faces and then running away as soon as he can. So, I guess he did succeed on what he aimed to do, but was it moral? Was it just? Well, dear reader… I’m leaving that judgment up to you. (Tiredly) Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

It’s Saturday afternoon and Seokjin has just finished setting up his “trap” when he hears footsteps approaching where he was. He quickly jumps inside a nearby utility closet, keeping the door ajar to observe the upcoming interaction. Seokjin doesn’t even need to look to know that it’s Hoseok who has arrived first, always notoriously strict when it comes to scheduled meetings. He begins to worry, realizing belatedly that Jimin is the exact opposite of Hoseok when it comes to things like this, and while that makes for a good fanfic couple trope, it doesn’t really help Seokjin in this case.

He watches Hoseok peek into the classroom, brows scrunched in confusion as he must wonder why nobody seems to be at the supposed book signing. He snatches the poster from inside his satchel, squinting at the meeting details that should say that his class was supposed to meet at this very much abandoned classroom in the Law building. For how smart Hoseok is, he certainly didn’t question the sketchiness of the venue that Seokjin had chosen.

Hoseok taps his shoes against the linoleum floor, lips pursed as he debates on what to do. Just as Seokjin is about to blow his cover and just shove Hoseok into the classroom himself, a loud bang resounds from the end of the hall. They both flinch, looking over to see a head of red hair zooming towards them.

Jimin is dressed haphazardly in a ripped jean jacket and comically short shorts – you wouldn’t be able to tell what season it was based on his clothes alone. He looks like he’d just jumped out of bed, what with the noticeable drool stain still caked around his chin. He grinds to a halt in front of the classroom, breathing heavily through his mouth and still not yet aware of the company he has found himself with.

“Jimin? What the fuck?” Hoseok exclaims, staring incredulously at him. Jimin finally looks up, pausing in his heavy breathing to stare back.

He straightens up, pointing an accusing finger at the elder. “GASP! What are you doing here?”

Hoseok points his own finger. “Did you just say ‘gasp’ in real life?”

“I asked you first!”

“I asked you second!”

“Well,” Hoseok coughs awkwardly, gesturing to the empty classroom mindlessly. “I’m supposed to be here for a book signing, but I feel like I got a fake ad by accident.”

“Hah! Foolish of you,” Jimin snorts, nose high in the air. He procures his own fake poster from his short pockets, presenting it to Hoseok. “You must be Miss Steak Anne, because this classroom is supposed to be where a dance exhibition is being held. I knew you wanted to watch them dance! You’re just trying to cover up your embarrassment!”

“What?” Hoseok splutters, snatching the poster from his hands. He reads it, narrowing his eyes at Seokjin’s masterpiece of deception. “Dude. The poster is fake too. They spelled ‘dance’ like ‘dunce.’”

Jimin takes it back, slack-jawed when he sees that Hoseok was right. “What the fuck,” he says. He groans, smacking himself in the face. “I’m the foolish one now!”

Before Hoseok can retort, Seokjin chooses that moment to burst forth from his hiding place. “Hello, boys!” he greets, not waiting for a response. The two boys jump in surprise, but they don’t even have time to scream before Seokjin promptly shoves them into the classroom. He clicks the lock in place, grateful that he scouted this place during his first year in case he’d ever need somewhere to lock his unsuspecting classmates in*.

[Addendum: Me. It was me. He locked me in there when I told him JiHope was the worst ship on campus. Y/NKook for life! Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

“Hey! Let us out!” Jimin yells from behind the door, his tiny fists banging uselessly against the door. Seokjin cackles maniacally from the outside, doing a funny dance through the frosted glass window.

“Not until you guys fix whatever angst bullshit you have going on! I’ll be back in an hour. Until then, homos!” Seokjin singsongs, skipping away from the mess he created. But not to worry, dear readers, for Seokjin had planted microphones all over the classroom in advance so that we may all be privy to the ensuing drama/hotness courtesy of JiHope! Oh, how incredibly big-brained of him! The following is a transcript of the aforementioned recording because, as you know, Seokjin always wins.

Transcript by Min Yoongi:*

[Addendum: Paid-slash-blackmailed, by the way. I would never do this willingly. He knows too much about me… It’s sickening but also he offered to buy me chicken nuggets and I’d be an idiot to decline that. Anyway, here’s this pile of shit. Noted by: Min Yoongi.]

[0:00] *heavy banging from Jimin’s tiny baby fists*

[0:10] Jimin: Ugh, this shit BLOWS! *proceeds to stomp around like a baby before sliding to the ground with a thud*

[0:20] Hoseok: Well, it could be worse. We could have been kidnapped by a serial killer.

[0:25] Jimin: I’m pretty sure Kim Seokjin categorizes as one, but go off.

[0:30] Hoseok: *grumbling* I’m just trying to lighten the mood.

[0:35] Jimin: Oh wow, thanks soooo much. This is all your fault, by the way. Can’t believe your dumbass got bamboozled by Seokjin.

[0:40] Hoseok: How the fuck is this my fault? You were fooled too! And will you stop sitting like that? I can see everything with how short your shorts are.

[0:45] Jimin: Oh, and now you’re going to police how I dress? Bitch, people would be honored to see my nuts! They’re prized nuts!

[0:50] Hoseok: *snorts* Sure, if you say so.

[0:55] *there is a short pause and you can hear Jimin’s heavy breathing* Jimin, mumbling: Taehyung says my nuts are great…

[1:00] Hoseok: Well, Taehyung is an idiot. He probably says that shit to everybody.

[1:05] Jimin: *gasps* TAKE THAT BACK! HE’S MY FUCKING SOULMATE!”

[1:10] Hoseok: Oh, he’s your soulmate, is he? Guess you like throwing that word around to just about anybody, huh? Because last time, I remember you calling me your soulmate!”

[1:15-6:15] *literally just five minutes of silence* *you can hear Jimin crying a little bit but it’s obvious he’s trying to hold it in* *Hoseok (?) or maybe Jimin is pacing around*

[6:20] Hoseok: I, uhh... *hesitates some more* I didn’t... Mean to say that.

[6:25] Jimin: *starts to laugh hysterically* Fuck…

[6:30] Jimin: *slams his tiny baby hand against the wall again* Fuck!

[6:35] Jimin, choking up: You didn’t mean to say what? That we really were soulmates? That we used to be best friends?

[6:40] Hoseok, quietly: Jimin... No, I meant––

[6:45] Jimin: What do you mean, huh? I can never understand you. You never explain yourself. It’s always a guessing game with you and I just end up getting my feelings hurt because I always make the wrong assumptions, isn’t that right?

[7:00] Hoseok, choking up: Of course not. You’re right, I’m stupid and––

[7:05] Jimin, yelling: That’s right! You are fucking stupid! You’ve been stupid since day one and I can’t believe I wanted to be friends with you! *sniffles loudly* And I’m even stupider for still wanting to be friends with you.

[7:20-7:30] *there is a long silence except for the sound of Jimin’s heavy sniffling*

[7:35] Hoseok, sighing: I know that I don’t deserve to be your friend. I’m ashamed. I’m so fucking ashamed. There isn’t a day where I don’t regret not telling you about giving up dance all those years ago. I should’ve been more open with you.

[7:50] *Jimin stops sniffling* Jimin: Yeah. You should’ve. You should be. Asshole.

[8:00] Hoseok: And every time I try telling myself that I should apologize, I’d just get cold feet. It got even worse when you started hanging around Taehyung more... And I just... Lost it.

[8:10] Jimin, laughing harshly: Oh? So you were fucking jealous? Please.

[8:15] Hoseok: It sounds childish, but yea. I was.

[8:20] Jimin, quietly: Oh.

[8:30] Hoseok: And then when I saw you hanging off of Sera’s stupid little finger like a lovesick fool, it... It really fucking messed me up.

[8:40] Jimin: Oh my god. Was that why you’ve been so moody these past few days? Holy shit.

[8:45] Hoseok: When you put it that way... Ugh, this is so embarrassing. I’m really not a feelings guy, you know? I’m always just supposed to be the happy-go-lucky sunshine guy.

[9:00] Jimin: You’re allowed to feel, you know? Get rid of that toxic masculinity bullshit you have going on. This is why we fucking drifted in the first place!

[9:10] Hoseok, laughing hoarsely: Yeah... You’re right. *sound of a body sliding down to the floor... Hoseok must have sat beside Jimin*

[9:30] Jimin: We are literally so stupid. Do you realize how dumb our arguments sound? We’re being so childish, and for what?

[9:40] Hoseok: *sighing* I know… I’m the asshole here. I know what I did and I’m the reason why our friendship shifted. I’ve never been considerate to you and now…

[9:50] Hoseok: You probably hate me. And I used to tell myself that it’s better that you moved on but I know the reason why you never applied for the dance program is because of me.

[10:00] Jimin: I mean, yeah. That’s true.

[10:05] Hoseok: Wait, the asshole part or…

[10:10] Jimin: Pretty much everything. Yes, you’re the asshole. Yes, you ruined our friendship. Yes, I didn’t apply for the dance program because of you.

[10:15] Hoseok: *sighing* And you probably hate me, right?

[10:20] Jimin, softer: No, of course not. I could never hate you, hyung. Hell, I thought you hated me! You never hang out with me anymore! I literally only started taking those tutoring lessons from Y/N so that I would have an excuse to see you sometimes.

[10:35] Hoseok: ...oh. I didn’t know… I guess I’ve been a little bit too self-absorbed.

[10:45] Jimin: Understatement of the century, hyung. I just fucking miss you, okay? *sniffles loudly* God, I am so sick of crying all the time! First that shit with Sera, and now this…

[10:55] Hoseok: *panicking* Shit! Jimin-ah, please don’t cry… I’m such a fuck up! Why do you even want to hang around me?

[11:05] Jimin: Don’t you get it? You’re my best friend! How could I just erase years of friendship over what? Just because you don’t wanna dance anymore? Listen, I know I always pester you to go dance with me again, but I’d be more than happy just having you as my friend. I don’t care about that shit anymore! I just want you to look at me without looking so fucking guilty all the time.

[11:35] Hoseok: Well… I still want to dance. All the time, believe me. But… I can’t go around wasting my time when I made a promise to my dad.

[11:45] Jimin, hesitantly: Your… your dad?

[11:50] Hoseok: Yeah. He told me it was his greatest wish if I followed in his footsteps and became a teacher… I’m sorry, Jimin. I couldn’t just let my old man down like that. I…

[12:00] Jimin: Oh my god. You idiot. You fucking dunce. You dick for brains.

[12:05] Hoseok: What the fuck? What did I do now?

[12:10] Jimin: Have you ever considered… that you could teach shit other than English? Huh?

[12:15] *Hoseok.exe has stopped working*

[12:20] Jimin: Oh my god! I have a fucking feeling your dad meant he just wanted to see you teach kids, not necessarily become an English teacher like he was! You fucking stupid piece of shit!

[12:30] Hoseok: I… literally didn’t think. How the fuck..?

[12:35] Jimin: Are you literally just telling me right now that we could’ve escaped 3 years of stupid misunderstanding if you just hadn’t been an idiot? Give me a break! How the hell do you think you’d ever become a teacher?!

[12:50] *there is a pause before the two of them start laughing loudly*

[13:00] Hoseok: Jesus. Guess I really am the asshole, huh?

[13:05] Jimin: You think? Ugh, maybe getting locked in a classroom with you isn’t so bad after all…

[13:10] Hoseok: Speaking of… When do you think Seokjin is gonna let us out of here? I kinda need to piss and as happy as I am to be your friend again, I don’t think I wanna relive our toddler years together either.

[13:20] Jimin: *snorts* Gross. *shuffling* Hyung! Stand here! I’m gonna climb you and try to open the latch to the window over there. Shouldn’t be that far of a jump. Then I’ll just open the door for you.

[13:40] Hoseok: Jimin, are you insane? That could be dangerous! Let me do it.

[13:50] Jimin: You and what? Your skinny ass? Please! Do you see the gloriousness of this ass? I can get us out of here in no time.

[14:00] Hoseok, whispering: Assuming you can even squeeze through the window…

[14:05] Jimin, yelling: EXCUSE ME? I’LL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT THIS ASS HAS WON ME MANY FREE MCDONALD’S HAPPY MEALS IN MY DAY––

End of Audio

x x x x x

Yoongi pauses from his typing to recheck the file, making sure he hadn’t accidentally paused the recording. When he sees that the audio does end there, he leans back into his chair, letting his headphones fall back to settle around his neck. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, sending a quick text to Seokjin to ask what happened to the two stupid lovebirds.

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beauregardlionett · 3 years

Text

this poem is my confessional (loving you isn’t a sin)

AO3 Link

A/N: big shout out to my man @sadwizardvibes for the inspiration AND for writing me a fucking song to go with this piece thanks for fueling my beauyasha brainrot man <3

If she was honest with herself, giving Beau that poem had been entirely an impulse decision. Yasha had told Jester she would work on it—which she did—and that she would find a special moment for it. But most of the moments she shared with Beau were special to her, so that didn’t exactly narrow things down. She cherished every conversation and tried her hardest to keep Beau safe. Especially after the events at the chantry, Yasha appreciated every moment she got with Beau.

So, she had handed the paper over and prayed she didn’t embarrass herself.

Beau had seemed flustered, touched, and Yasha had wanted nothing more than to kiss her then and there. But she had held back, because she wanted Beau to at least read the poem before anything else happened.

And then all of that insanity with Vess and Molly—no, Lucien—had happened, and Yasha found herself grateful nothing else had transpired between her and Beau. She hated to think the memory of their potential first kiss might have been marred by the events following.

Regardless, they were underway toward Aeor; the snowy landscapes were taxing, endless, and a little boring. Supposedly it was a good thing they had encountered none of the foretold beasts, but Yasha harbored a lot of pent up frustration and nerves. It would be nice to have something to take that out on.

At the end of their second day, Caleb set up his tower. He ushered them all inside to a haven of warmth and stained glass they were becoming steadily more familiar with. Dagon seemed understandably impressed with the magical structure and grateful for the guest room he was directed to.

Usually they would gather up for dinner together, but there seemed to be a silent, unanimous decision that exhaustion took precedence. They retired to their various rooms with yawns and quiet ‘good nights’, safe for the time being. Yasha lay on her back on the cot in the room with the floral mural. She traced an absent gaze over the patterns, identifying flowers in her head and hoping it would lull her anxious mind to sleep.

She couldn’t stop thinking about Molly—Lucien—and what they would do when they caught up to him. Yasha couldn’t stop thinking about Beau, about the poem she carefully tucked away to read later. Yasha couldn’t help but remember of Zualla as she stared at the flowers on her wall.

There was a knock at her door.

Pushing to her feet after a moment, Yasha walked to her door to poke her head out. She was confused about who might be at her door at this hour until her eyes found Beau fidgeting on the other side of the threshold.

“Hi,” Beau mumbled, hands behind her back.

“Hi,” Yasha breathed back, opening the door a little wider. “Are you okay? It’s late.”

“Yeah,” Beau said, voice pitching up a little at the end in a tell Yasha quickly realized meant she was nervous. “Yeah, I just uh…”

Yasha raised an eyebrow at Beau’s nerves, unused to a Beau who floundered. She realized in the second before Beau pulled the piece of parchment out from behind her back what this was about. The Aasimar flushed pink and her eyes flicked to the ground, embarrassed.

“This was…really beautiful, Yasha,” Beau mumbled, fingers fiddling with the edges of the paper. “But I uh…I noticed this.”

Yasha chanced a look up, Beau extending the paper and pointing to a tiny note scrawled in the bottom corner. She had forgotten about that.

In her messy, cramped handwriting, Yasha had scrawled the word harp? She had been considering turning her poem into a song, because it was always easier for her to express things through music. Plus, she knew that Beau enjoyed her music, so why wouldn’t she put it to chords? But Yasha ended up pushing the idea aside. It was one thing for Beau to like Yasha’s wordless performances, and a whole other for Yasha to direct poetry with music toward the woman of her affection.

“It was…just an idea,” Yasha said with a half-hearted dismissive gesture.

“Would you play it for me?”

Yasha felt her cheeks grow warmer, more red than pink now. But before she could give it too much thought, the Aasimar felt herself nodding. She stood aside and let Beau into her room, leading the monk back into the chamber painted with flowers.

Beau sat cross-legged on the floor across from Yasha as the Aasimar tuned her harp. She took a little longer with the task than strictly necessary, just so she could freak out in silence.

Of course, she had prepared chords for this, because she had run with the idea. But Yasha shied away from it, losing her courage. Music was something that had helped Yasha heal, a meditation in her own way. It brought her peace and offered her an outlet for emotions she didn’t quite know how to express. So, to have Beau sitting before her, eyes trained solely on Yasha, was intense and nerve-wracking.

If Yasha had learned anything, though, it was that she could trust Beau. The monk had been looking out for her, and for the entire group, since day one. Before Beau had trusted any of them, she had still been looking out for them. It was something Yasha admired about Beau—her capacity to care and to love despite everything she had been through. Beau inspired Yasha to keep fighting.

The least she could do was play this for her.

She didn’t need the parchment back. Yasha had spent hours pouring over the words and the chords to make sure it sounded perfect.

Oh, oh Beau, I’m grateful for you.

You waited while I wandered,

While everyone was wondering

If I’d ever come back, you stayed true.

Her voice faltered slightly at the start, uncertain and underused, but she persisted. Beau’s eyes on her simultaneously made her nervous and strengthened her resolve.

Oh, oh Beau, you mean so much to me,

I’ve lost so many people,

I cannot fathom losing

The woman who has loved so fearlessly.

Yasha rarely sang. She used to sing for Zualla in those quiet stolen moments years ago. When they were out in the fields alone, walking or hunting or just existing to stare at the stars. She sang once for Molly, both of them a little past tipsy after a good night for the circus. He had told her she possessed a voice fit for performances, but Yasha had waved him off.

Her voice was sweet, higher than her speaking voice because she sang from her nose and her head. It threw most people for a loop, but Beau merely sat there and stared. Her blue eyes were wide with awe, lips slightly parted. If Yasha didn’t know Beau couldn’t be charmed, she would almost think the monk under a spell.

And I’ve ambled and trekked over miles and miles,

Every step lead me straight back to you.

You gave me the space to learn where I belong

And I’ll tell you right now, it’s the truth.

It was almost like nothing else existed. Yasha’s fingertips buzzed against the taut strings of the harp, her voice vibrated in her chest, and Beau’s eyes stayed fixated on Yasha’s face. This was all that mattered right now, and Yasha couldn’t think of what existed before this, or what might exist after.

Oh, oh Beau, the one I’m thinking of,

I want to hold your hand and

Stand quietly beside you.

I want to confess, you’re my love.

The last strum of her harp faded into silence, and Yasha reveled in the peace vibrating through her veins. She had rarely known stillness like this before discovering music.

Beau sniffed, and Yasha twitched as she startled, eyes snapping up to Beau’s face. The monk still stared at her, eyes wide and watering.

No one’s ever written me a poem before. Yasha remembered the soft-spoken admission as a tear tumbled down Beau’s cheek. She guessed without asking that no one ever sung for Beau before, either.

“Yasha…” Beau breathed. “That was incredible. Your voice…”

The Aasimar ducked her head, not even trying to suppress the smile pulling at her lips. Beau’s awe was so genuine, Yasha barely knew how to face it head on.

“I didn’t know if you would…y’know want to hear it like that. Or if you would just rather read it,” Yasha rambled, running her fingers with absent focus up and down one string on her harp. “So…yeah, I mean, it’s a song, too. But it was originally a poem. For you.”

“Yeah,” Beau’s voice cracked. “I don’t—Yasha, that was…incredible. You’re incredible. You wrote that? For me?”

“Of course,” Yasha said, looking up again with a small frown. The note of disbelief in Beau’s voice upset her. Why wouldn’t she write a poem for Beau?

“Thank you,” Beau said, her voice overflowing with an emotion Yasha could empathize with, but couldn’t name.

“I am glad you liked it,” Yasha said as she set her harp aside. She didn’t know where to go from here. Jester had said Beau was waiting for Yasha to make the first move, and this…was this enough? It felt weird to question that kind of thing because Yasha had been married before. Theoretically, she should know how to do this. But then again, everything she and Zualla had done had been in secret. Yasha never learned how to express affection for someone openly.

And knowing what she did about Beau, Yasha figured that the monk had no better clue in any of this than she did.

“Maybe uhm…” Yasha started, but stopped. She didn’t want to mess this up. “Maybe after we finish this job…we could, y’know…get dinner? Just us?”

Watching a slow smile spread and pull at Beau’s lips was like watching a sunrise. It began slowly, a little hesitantly, colors bleeding into and washing away the darkness of Beau’s uncertainty. It was a gentle harbinger that lasted a lifetime in no time at all. Then, between one blink and the next, the sun. Beau grinned with wild abandon, lips pulled wide to reveal her teeth, and eyes scrunching at the corners with the force of it. Yasha’s heart went giddy in her chest at the mere sight of Beau’s joy.

“I’d like that,” Beau whispered. There was the same quiet, awed excitement in her voice from when she first received Yasha’s poem.

Yasha’s cheeks hurt from how hard she was smiling. “It’s a date.”

#cr #critical role #beauyasha #writing #my writing #beauregard lionett #yasha #LET'S MANIFEST #i honestly got this idea like two weeks ago but better late than never am i right #c2e114

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gingwrites · 3 years

Text

And they were soulmates - taegi soulmate au

Soulmate au where once you meet your soulmate, you get sick if you’re too far away from your soulmate for too long. Soulmates Yoongi and Taehyung meet, but don’t realize it, and Yoongi, who is part of the group Bangtan, leave for a worldwide tour. The two start to feel sick, but don’t realize the cause. It’s then up to their friends to find out that they’re soulmates!

A/N: this was supposed to be a short one shot, but here we are 10k later. not sorry. I will also be posting this on ao3, so if you’d rather read it there, my ao3 is linked on my masterlist.

Yoongi sometimes wondered if fate hated him. He was 27 and still hadn’t found his soulmate. The one person who fate had created just for him. But then again, neither had the other two members of Bangtan, so he wasn’t exactly alone.

He didn’t know if being world famous was a curse or not. On one hand, he traveled the world and got to meet all kinds of people. People who could potentially be his soulmate. On the other hand, since Bangtan was so famous, he had trouble meeting new people that weren’t work-related or weren’t just after him for his fame and money.

When a person met their soulmate, it was said that they would feel unconditional love for the other person. And if that wasn’t enough proof for people, then if you were separated from your soulmate for a long period of time, both soulmates would get physically ill. Of course, the distance and time had to be great. Soulmates wouldn’t get sick by going to the store, or even a business trip.

Soulmate sickness, as it was so eloquently dubbed by scientists, wasn’t the same for everyone, but there was an estimate on distance and time for most people. For the most part, if soulmates didn’t see each other for around a month and were not within a couple hundred miles, soulmate sickness would set in. Soulmates would start to grow physically weak, their appetite would slowly vanish, they would be tired all the time. On top of that, they would usually have fevers, throw up, and sometimes be delirious.

If soulmates were sick for a long enough period, they would fall into a coma. If the soulmates couldn’t be reunited, they would die.

Luckily, soulmate sickness was pretty rare. Soulmates usually tested and knew their distance and time restrictions and didn’t travel outside their bounds. Soulmate sickness was usually caused by accident, or by unforeseen circumstances, like natural disasters.

Yoongi wondered if he would ever meet his soulmate. It would be hard enough since he was an idol and people would lie all the time, claiming to be his soulmate. The thought that maybe he didn’t even have a soulmate crossed his mind too many times for him to care for.

“Time to go, Yoongi!” Hoseok yelled from the door, forcing Yoongi to finally look up from his phone and pull his slumped form off the couch. “Fans are waiting! Let’s go, let’s go.”

“You have too much energy for this early in the morning,” Yoongi grumbled, though still following Hoseok’s direction’s and trailing behind the other rapper into the hallway where Namjoon and other staff members were waiting.

Bangtan was about to head to the stage for their latest fan meet. Yoongi loved fan meets. If it weren’t for their fans, Bangtan wouldn’t be where they were today, and they would never be able to give enough thanks to the small amount of fans they got to know during each fan meet.

“Are you ready to meet Bangtan?” a muffled voice came from the behind the door to the stage. A roar of cheers was heard, which brought a small smile to Yoongi’s face. “Well here they are! Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Jung Hoseok!”

A staff member then opened the door and the cheers became much more clearer and louder. The three members then made their way onto the stage, ready to meet some of their devoted fans.

“If you make me late, I will delete your Overwatch account,” Taehyung yelled up the stairs.

He then heard a squawk and running footsteps.

“You wouldn’t dare!” Jungkook cried, hand over his chest in disbelief.

“Try me.”

Jungkook huffed while slumping down the stairs. Taehyung swore he heard the other man huffing about how he was just about ready anyways.

“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy! You want to see Bangtan just as much as I do!” Taehyung said on the way out of their shared apartment. “I know you’ve been dying to meet Namjoon. Don’t deny it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jungkook muttered, heat rising to his cheeks. “Let’s just get this show on the road so you can go meet the man who you have a shrine in your bedroom to.”

This time, it was Taehyung who let out a squawk.

“Excuse you!” Taehyung argued. “It is not a shrine! I just happen to have a lot of posters and pictures of the love of my life, Min Yoongi.” Taehyung let out a love-struck sigh.

Jungkook smiled and just shook his head. His best friend really was a piece of work.

The two friends made their way to the bus, thrumming with excitement at the chance to finally meet their favorite idols.

Arriving at the theater 30 minutes later, Taehyung could barely contain his excitement. In a few short minutes, he’d be in the same building as Min Yoongi. And not long after that, the same room, and entirely not soon enough, they’d be face to face.

Ever since Taehyung had stumbled upon Bangan’s pre-debut Soundcloud, he’d been in love. He’d loved everything from the beat of their songs to the flow of their raps to the meaning behind the lyrics. And when he’d first heard the low, gravely voice of one Min Yoongi, Taehyung knew that that rapper would be his bias and nothing could change his mind.

Jungkook and Taehyung made their way in the small theater, along with all the other lucky fans who had tickets to the fan meet, and found their seats. The pair were in the back, which meant they’d have to wait longer to meet their idols, but it meant they got to watch them interacting with fans and the other members, which was always a sight to see. Taehyung loved watching videos of fan meets because the members of Bangtan always showed such love to their fans. And of course it helped that sometimes they acted like idiots while on stage, always bringing a smile to Taehyung’s face.

Taehyung’s leg was bouncing with excitement and nervousness. While waiting for the meet to start, Taehyung and Jungkook talked with each other and made small talk with the fans around them, leaning that one girl had been to every single fan meet that Bangtan had (which Taehyung thought was a bit excessive, but he guessed if that’s how she wanted to spend her money, that was on her).

The girl sitting on Jungkook’s side hadn’t been to a fan meet before like the two boys and was gushing about how she couldn’t wait to meet Namjoon.

The small room, now packed to the brim with fans, had slowly gotten louder as the clock ticked closer to the start of the event.

A screech from the microphone rang out across the room, causing Taehyung to flinch. The room got eerily silent.

“Are you ready to meet Bantan?” a voice sounded from the speakers.

Taehyung and Jungkook, along with every other person in the room, screamed with excitement.

It’s finally happening! Taehyung thought. He felt like his heart might beat out of his chest. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. The members of Bangtan were just normal people, just like him. Yeah, except they’re insanely talented, and they’re super famous and super rich, Taehyung thought.

“Well here they are! Kim Namjoon, Min Yoongi, and Jung Hoseok!” the voice spoke again.

Before Taehyung could even think, the entire room was on their feet, cheering for the three men entering the stage, Taehyung right there with them, screaming his lungs out.

The first on stage was Kim Namjoon, leader of Bangtan. Taehyung knew pictures wouldn’t do the man justice, but still, he wasn’t prepared for how Namjoon looked in real life. The rapper smiled out at the crowd, and Taehyung just about swooned. Even though Namjoon wasn’t his bias, he could still write poems about the dimples that graced Namjoon’s face.

The next to enter the stage was Jung Hoseok, dance captain of Bangtan. Again, Taehyung was struck with how pretty the man was in real life. How had BigHit managed to find such attractive men to be in the same group? Hoseok looked at the crowd and waved, causing quite a few people in the crowd to squeal.

Finally, Min Yoongi entered the stage. The moment Taehyung’s eyes landed on the man, he felt his heart grow 10 sizes and burst. If he were in a cartoon, Taehyung knew he would have heart eyes. He couldn’t believe he was finally in the same room as Yoongi and actually looking at the rapper with his own eyes. Taehyung’s whole chest felt warm, and he felt the need to kiss Yoongi all over his face (but honestly, Taehyung always wanted to do that).

Just like the other members, nothing could have prepared Taehyung for what Yoongi looked like in real life. He was both hard lines and soft curves. Yoongi had on what Taehyung thought looked like the softest pastel sweater on the face of the earth. Yoongi had a serious look on his face, but once he looked out into the audience, his signature gummy smile took over his face. He looked like the softest boy on the planet and Taehyung just wanted to squish his cheeks. But, he knew if Yoongi was handed a mic, he would be throwing out hard raps that no one else could ever dream to perform.

“Thank you for coming to our fan meet!” Namjoon spoke into his microphone as he and the other two members took their seats at the table. The crowd cheered again. “We can’t wait to meet you all!”

The MC then took over and called the first row up to get in line.

The next hour passed way too quick and way too slow for Taehyung. He watched Namjoon listen intently to fans as they talked about how Namjoon’s lyrics help them get through tough times in their lives. He watched Hoseok get the brightest smile on his face when a fan told him she had named a star after him. He watched how Yoongi put on all the flower crowns and headbands that fans gave him and let them take pictures before moving on. He watched the three talk about a goof that happened during their last performance. And he watched them act crazy and silly, sometimes throwing things, like stuffed animals they were given, at each other, all with the biggest smiles on their faces.

Finally, the last row was called to get in line. Taehyung bounced on his toes, unable to believe he was finally here. Jungkook, who Taehyung almost forgot was here with him in all the excitement, squeezed his shoulder, looking just as excited.

Taehyung and Jungkook happened to be at the end of the line, so they had to wait a bit more. The line moved at a very slow but steady pace. Before Taehyung knew it, he was at the front of the line.

“Hi! What’s your name?” Namjoon asked, a smile taking over his face.

“Taehyung.”

“Well, Taehyung, it’s so nice to meet you!” Namjoon replied. “Did you have anything you wanted me to sign?”

“Oh, yes! Of course!” Taehyung quickly pulled his copy of Bangtan’s latest album out of his bag and handed it over. He was still in shock at being this close. He thought seeing Namjoon’s dimples from across the room was bad, but seeing them this close made him want to just reach over and poke them.

Namjoon quickly signed the album and handed it back.

“I just wanted to say, thank you so much for all you do,” Taehyung started while taking back the album. “I’ve been following Bangtan since before debut, and y’all’s music has helped me through so much. You all are really such amazing songwriters. You really know how to write lyrics that make a person think and feel.”

Namjoon’s cheeks were now dusted with pink.

“Thank you, but we really should be thanking you!” Namjoon replied. “Without fans like you, we wouldn’t get to do any of this, so thank you. We really appreciate it.”

Now it was Taehyung’s turn to blush. He looked down at his feet, trying and failing to keep the massive smile off his face.

“Next!” a voice called. Taehyung looked up, realizing it was time to move on.

“It was great meeting you, Taehyung!” Namjoon called while he moved on. “I hope we can meet again!”

Taehyung nodded and stopped in front of Hoseok.

“Hello!” Hoseok smiled cheerily, immediately putting Taehyung’s nerves at ease.

“Hi, I’m Taehyung!” he replied, shyly handing over his album.

“How are you doing today, Taehyung?” Hoseok asked while signing the album. “Are you having a fun time?”

“Oh, yes! It’s been great!” Taehyung nodded.

“Is it your first fan meet?”

“Yes! I’ve been a fan since before Bangtan debuted, but this was the first time I’ve been able to get tickets for a fan meet,” Taehyung replied.

Hoseok nodded and handed the album back over.

“Well, I’m glad you could finally make it!” Hoseok smiled. “We really appreciate your support! I can’t believe you’ve been following us since before debut! That’s a long time!”

“It’s not that hard to support when y’all put out such amazing music,” Taehyung said.

“Well, I’m happy we got to meet!” Hoseok replied as the voice came back over the speaker and called for the line to continue moving.

Taehyung shyly waved bye and moved down the table. He didn’t dare look up yet. Yoongi was the last and most important and Taehyung felt like he might have a heart attack at seeing Min Yoongi this close.

Taehyung stopped in front of Yoongi’s spot and unzipped his bag, pulling out the gift he bought specifically for the other man.

“This is for you,” Taehyung said while shoving the gift forward, still afraid of looking up. He was afraid Yoongi wouldn’t like the gift.

“Aw, Yoongi got a Kumamon plushie!” Namjoon spoke, surprising Taehyung into looking up. The older man was draped over Yoongi’s shoulders. Taehyung quickly glanced down the line and realized that the line had ended, so Namjoon didn’t have a fan to talk with.

Taehyung finally looked at Yoongi, who had pink cheeks. Namjoon turned his head and realized the other man was blushing and reached to pinch his cheeks.

“Aw, look what you did, Taehyung! You made Min Yoongi blush!” Namjoon cried dramatically.

Yoongi quickly pushed the younger man off his shoulders while grumbling about going back to his own seat and Taehyung swore he heard something about knowing where Namjoon slept.

Once Namjoon had made his way back to his own spot, Yoongi finally spoke.

“Thank you. I love it.”

“Really? I was nervous that maybe you already had enough Kumamon plushies from fans or that maybe you already had this one or maybe you wouldn’t like it,” Taehyung rambled.

Yoongi laughed and Taehyung felt his heart stop at hearing it in person. His laugh sounded so comforting, as odd as that sounded. The laugh sounded very loving and Taehyung would love to make him laugh again.

“Yes, I really love it,” Yoongi smiled. “I actually don’t think I have this specific one, so it’s perfect.”

“Oh, that’s great!” Taehyung smiled back, pink still dusting his cheeks from his earlier rambling. “Oh! I have my album for you to sign!”

Taehyung quickly handed it over.

“I’m glad you got to come today, Taehyung,” Yoongi said while signing the album. “Meeting our fans is always so much fun, though it was probably more fun for you because you got to watch us act like idiots with each other up here on stage.”

Taehyung giggled, nodding along.

“Well, I’m glad I got to meet you, Taehyung. Maybe we’ll get to meet each other again some time!” Yoongi continued, handing Taehyung his album back.

“I really hope so,” the younger replied.

“Next!” the voice that Taehyung was starting to dread called. He stuck the album back into his bag and waved to Yoongi before turning toward the door. Taehyung’s cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but it was so worth it to finally meet Bangtan.

Taehyung made it out into the hallway and sat on one of the benches that lined the wall, waiting for Jungkook to join him. Since they were basically last in line, there weren’t too many people left hanging around, which Taehyung was glad for because he was still sure his face was pink from talking with Yoongi.

“We just met Bangtan!” Jungkook cried as he threw open the auditorium doors. “I can’t believe we just did that! And I talked with Namjoon! And you talked with Yoongi!”

Taehyung stood up from the bench, a smile still stretching over his cheeks. The two made their way outside to the bus stop, catching each other up on what they talked about with each member.

By the time they reached their apartment, the two had shared their stories and were walking in comfortable silence as they made their way inside. Taehyung felt the happiest he had ever been. He had been stressed lately because of work, but he forgot all about those worries now. He felt like his life was complete now and his heart was full.

The next few weeks passed by with nothing special. Taehyung went to work everyday and came home and hung out with Jungkook. Now that he had met Yoongi and the rest of Bangtan, Taehyung felt like something in his life was missing.

It’s probably all just in my head, Taehyung though. This isn’t some Y/N fanfiction. It’s not like I was going to attend the fan meet and have one of the members fall in love with me by just looking at me. Plus, they have soulmates out there somewhere. And so do I. Who knows when I’ll finally meet them, but they’re out there somewhere.

Taehyung had never really thought much about his soulmate. He knew he had one because everyone did, but he didn’t really think much past that. He figured when the time was right, the universe would put that person in his life and he would know exactly when it happened and he would be in love.

Growing up, it was impossible to go through life without hearing soulmate stories. People would talk about the moment they laid eyes on their significant other, the moment they knew they were in love. Most people said it was hard to explain what it felt like to find their soulmate, but that you would know when it happened to you. You would get this overwhelming love for this other person and you’d never want to let them go.

Taehyung couldn’t wait until that moment, but until then, he was content with going through life not worrying about it.

“Hey!” Jungkook called when he came home one night after work, a pizza box in tow. “Did you see that they finally published the pictures from when Bangtan left for their tour last week? I’m pretty sure Hoseok had to do a punishment based on the outfit he was wearing at the airport.”

“Oo! I wanna see!” Taehyung quickly pulled his phone out of his pocket and pulled up Twitter to look at the pictures. “Oh my god, I can’t believe he wore that to the airport. I would never be able to do that.”

“This is why we love them.”

“Because they’re huge dorks?” Taehyung raised his eyebrows.

“No,” Jungkook laughed. “Okay, maybe. But also because they’re confident enough to do things like this. And they’re okay with looking like idiots sometimes if it makes their fans happy. And it made me happy.”

Taehyung just shook his head before grabbing a slice of pizza. The two spent their night watching crappy dramas on TV while finishing their pizza.

The next morning, Taehyung woke up feeling like he didn’t get any sleep, which he thought was odd because he had gone to bed at a decent time. Rubbing his eyes, he sat up and stretched his arms out. Today was going to be a long day if he felt this exhausted already. Maybe he could squeeze a nap in during his lunch break.

“Morning!” Jungkook chirped as he entered the kitchen. “Have a hard night?”

Taehyung just grumbled into his large coffee cup. He was in no mood for Jungkook’s cheeriness this early in the morning. Taehyung despised morning people.

Jungkook shuffled around the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal.

“Seriously, are you okay?” Jungkook asked once he plopped down in the chair across from Taehyung and finally got a good look at the other man. “You look like death. And I mean that in the nicest way possible. Did you stay up playing Overwatch without me last night or something?”

Taehyung shook his head.

“I don’t know what the problem is,” Taehyung started. “I went to bed at a decent time last night, but I woke up feeling like I didn’t get any sleep. Today is going to be hell. I have a presentation to give to the museum curator today, and I don’t think he’d appreciate it if I passed out during it.”

Taehyung brought the coffee cup back up and drank half the cup in one go. Maybe if he downed another cup of coffee before he left, he’d feel better by the time he got to work.

“Well, don’t push yourself too hard. Maybe you picked up a bug somewhere,” Jungkook reasoned. “Take it easy today and go to bed early tonight and maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.”

Taehyung just nodded, focused on drowning himself in coffee.

The day went just as Taehyung had predicted. Crappy. Taehyung had filled a thermos with coffee before he left for work and downed it on the bus ride to the museum. He had felt a little more awake by the time he made it in, but his head was starting to hurt. Taehyung worked all morning finalizing his presentation for that afternoon, but by the time that rolled around, he had a massive headache and couldn’t concentrate on his computer.

While giving the presentation, the curator actually stopped him to ask him if he was okay. Taehyung of course said he was fine and continued with the presentation. Luckily, after it was done, it was almost time to head home. On the bus ride home, Taehyung’s headache got worse, which he didn’t think was possible, and by the time he got off at his stop, his head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

Okay, early bedtime it is.

Taehyung quickly made his way home and headed straight to the bathroom, where he quickly swallowed a few painkillers. Hopefully that would help with the stuffiness.

The rest of the night was spent lying around the apartment, and Taehyung kept true to his word and went to bed early.

Hopefully this will all go away and I’ll feel fine in the morning, Taehyung thought as he drifted off.

Yoongi’s alarm went off way too early for his liking. Touring was great and all, but dealing with time changes and constant traveling was hell on his body.

“Ugh,” Yoongi groaned, rolling over to slap at his phone to turn the constant blaring off.

As soon as the alarm was turned off, a knock sounded at the door. Of course. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.

Yoongi slowly made his way out of the hotel bed, grabbing a blanket to wrap around his shoulders before heading to the door.

“What?” Yoongi grumbled, throwing the door open.

“Good morning to you, too, sunshine,” grinned Hoseok. “I just came to wake you up before they started putting breakfast away. I know you like your sleep, but I know how grumpy you get when you miss out on a meal. And based off how you opened the door, I would say I was right on time, Mr. Grumpy Pants.”

“I hate you,” Yoongi replied with no real heat behind his words. “I’ll be down soon, just give me a minute to get changed.”

Hoseok nodded and turned on his heel, heading back down the hallway. Yoongi shut the door behind him, feeling a little more awake than he was when he opened the door. Hoseok really was like his portal battery.

Ten minutes later, Yoongi made his way into their private dining room at the hotel where breakfast was being served for the group and their staff. Making his way through the buffet line quickly, Yoongi spotted Namjoon and Hoseok easily as the room was almost empty because it was so late in the morning.

“Are you ready for the concert tonight, hyung?” Namjoon questioned once Yoongi sat down.

“Of course. Are you?” Yoongi shot back. Namjoon laughed and nodded the affirmative. Namjoon then turned to Hoseok and started up the conversation they were having before Yoongi arrived, and Yoongi turned toward his food.

After taking the first bite, Yoongi suddenly felt nauseous. He quickly put his chopsticks down and grabbed a drink of water.

“Hyung? Is everything okay?” Hoseok asked, glancing over at the older man.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, nodding his head. “I don’t know what happened. I thought I was hungry, but I just suddenly felt really nauseous. I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat anything. At least not right now.”

Namjoon leaned over and felt his forehead.

“You don’t feel warm. Are you feeling sick other than feeling nauseous?” Namjoon questioned, looking Yoongi over quickly to make sure there weren’t any noticeable signs that the other man wasn’t feeling well.

“I feel fine, other than that. I don’t know what the issue is. Maybe it’s the jet lag. Or just eating too close to waking up. I’ll be fine in a little bit,” Yoongi reassured. He didn’t know what the problem was, but he knew that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure he was better for their soundcheck and concert later. He couldn’t let their fans down. “I think I’m just going to go lay down for a bit. I’ll eat something before we head to the venue. Come get me before it’s time to leave?”

Namjoon and Hoseok just nodded, concerned for their friend, but unable to do anything for the other man. Letting him rest was their best option for now. Unfortunately, feeling sick on tour because of jet lag and exhaustion was common. Sleep and eating healthy were the only ways they had ever found to help combat them.

Yoongi quickly made his way back up to his room, falling asleep almost the second his head hit his pillow.

A week later and Taehyung woke up feeling like he had been hit by a bus. His body ached from head to toe, his head felt completely stopped up, and no matter how early he went to bed, he was always yawning.

Dragging himself to work had become a chore. The barista at the coffee shop a block from the museum had become his new best friend, already having his order prepared by the time he made it to the front of the line. After work, Taehyung used to play games or watch TV with Jungkook. Now, Taehyung felt like going straight to bed as soon as he walked in the door.

“Taehyung, I really think you need to go to the doctor,” Jungkook finally broke on Friday night. “I can’t just sit here and watch you like this. I know you’ve been getting enough sleep, so there has to be some other issue. I hate seeing you like this.”

The two roommates had been sitting on the couch, eating takeout and watching a crappy reality show on TV, like their normal Friday night. During a commercial break, Jungkook had finally broken the silence with his plea.

“I’m fine, Kookie,” Taehyung reassured. “It’s just a bug or something. Maybe a cold. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“You are not fine!” Jungkook argued. “You’re tired all the time, even after you chug two cups of coffee, which is not healthy at all. You’ve complained about headaches every day this week, and it doesn’t seem like the painkillers are helping. You haven’t been eating as much, either, and I know it’s only been a week, but it looks like you’ve lost weight, and your complexion has become super pale.

“I just- I can’t sit here while it looks like you’re wasting away. I’m your best friend, Taehyung. I love you, and I don’t like watching you like this.”

Taehyung sighed, finally setting his plate on the coffee table and turning toward the other man.

“Go to the doctor, please,” Jungkook cut Taehyung off before he could say a word. “If it’s just the flu, then it’s the flu and we’ll know. I’d rather overreact about the flu than find out it’s something worse later on when you become more sick. Please, Taehyung, for me.”

Taehyung sighed. He knew there was no way he was getting out of this. Truth be told, he wouldn’t mind going to the doctor. He had actually been thinking about it before Jungkook had said anything. He really didn’t think it was the flu. He’s had the flu before and it didn’t feel anything like this. Taehyung felt like he was wasting away, like something big was missing in his life, and if he didn’t get it back, he’d turn to dust and blow away with the wind.

“Alright. I’ll make an appointment on Monday,” Taehyung agreed.

“Thank you,” Jungkook sighed in relief. “Now that we’ve covered that, can we please turn off this crappy show and talk about Bangtan? They’ve been on tour for over a week, and we haven’t discussed any of the photos or videos from the concerts!”

Taehyung’s heart skipped. He’d talk about Bangtan any day.

“Do you even have to ask?” Taehyung scoffed. “Get your laptop! We need to watch all the videos!”

Jungkook leapt off the couch and ran to his room to grab his laptop.

“Here are some pictures from last night from someone I follow on Twitter,” Jungkook said, pulling up the photos.

The two spent the next twenty minutes scrolling through the photos and gushing over their favorites.

“Does Yoongi look tired to you in these photos?” Taehyung pointed out after a couple of Yoongi pictures in a row. “It looks like he’s got bags under his eyes. It doesn’t look like even makeup can cover them up.”

“Maybe it’s just the lighting? Or maybe it’s just jet lag from traveling,” Jungkook reasoned.

Taehyung just shrugged, still a little worried about Yoongi. He may only be a fan to the rapper, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t care about his health.

The two then moved on to videos from the latest concert, which was the night before.

“Wait, go back a second,” Taehyung interjected a few videos in. Jungkook quickly complied. “Do you see that? He looks… I don’t know, but he doesn’t look okay. He looks like he’s going to be sick or something.”

Jungkook scrutinized the screen, playing the short clip over and over again.

“Yeah, I guess he does look kind of like that,” Jungkook said after a moment. “Like I said though, maybe it’s just jet lag. Or the lighting. Who knows? No use speculating though.”

Taehyung hummed in agreement, though he wasn’t so sure.

After another hour of scouring Twitter for photos and videos, Taehyung decided to finally head to bed. He still felt terrible, but hopefully he’d figure out what was wrong next week. As he drifted off to sleep, the video clip of Yoongi looking unwell played on repeat behind his eyes.

“Come on, Yoongi. We’re here,” Namjoon shook Yoongi’s shoulder, waking the older man up from his short nap. The group had just arrived at the venue for their concert. Yoongi didn’t really have any idea where they were, he just went where he was told. The past week, or he thinks it’s been a week, of touring had been crazy. From performing a show every night, traveling to different countries, visiting different TV shows to promote their album and concerts, and adding jet lag on top of that, Yoongi hadn’t been feeling the best.

The group headed inside the venue, making their way to the dressing room. Once inside, Yoongi plopped himself down on one of the couches, planning on making himself sink into the couch until he was required to be somewhere for soundcheck.

“How’re you feeling?” Hoseok sat down next to Yoongi, disrupting his plans of falling back asleep. “I know you like your sleep, but you’ve definitely been sleeping more than you normally do on tour. Maybe you should talk with our doctor. We’re worried about you.”

Yoongi groaned. He did not want to do this right now. Hoseok was right. Of course he was right. There was no denying that something besides jet lag was wrong with Yoongi, but he hoped if he put it off long enough, it’d go away on its own. But, if it was enough for his friends to actually say something to him about it, maybe it was serious.

“I’m okay, Hoseok,” Yoongi finally answered. “Maybe I’m just not as in shape or healthy as I normally am on tour. And there’s nothing wrong with sleep! Sleep is good for you!”

Hoseok just raised his eyebrows.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ll talk with the doctor.” Hoseok’s eyes lit up. “After the concert.”

His smile dimmed slightly, but he would take what he could get. Yoongi was a stubborn man, and getting him to agree to talk with their physician on his own must really mean the older man wasn’t feeling the greatest.

“Good. We love you, Yoongi. We only want the best for you. Plus, it’s no fun calling you a cat if you're not around to hear it and complain," Hoseok teased.

"I am not a cat," Yoongi grumbled.

"See, there's my best friend," Hoseok smiled.

"Alright, boys. Time for soundcheck!" a manager called, as he stuck his head in the room.

The three members of Bangtan followed the man to the stage, grabbing their mics from a stagehand along the way.

"We only need to go through a couple songs to get everything set, but you will need to do choreography so the techs can get an idea of how it sounds while moving around the stage," the manager instructed.

Hoseok, Yoongi, and Namjoon all nodded, stepping up to their places for the first song.

The moment the first beats flowed through Yoongi's in-ear pieces, he fell into what Hoseok called his "stage mode." It didn't matter that it was only soundcheck, Yoongi would give it his all.

The three moved through the song flawlessly, hours of practice and other performances paying off.

The second the song ended, Yoongi started gasping for breath. He leaned over and put his hands on his knees, trying to suck in as much air as possible to steady his racing heart. He knew he had been feeling like crap lately, but he didn't think one song would make him feel this bad. Maybe it was a good idea Hoseok had convinced him to see their physician.

"Hey, you good?" Namjoon asked, placing a hand on Yoongi's back.

Yoongi only nodded, still trying to catch his breath. A water bottle was suddenly thrust into his line of vision, which he gladly grabbed and chugged.

"Maybe you should take it easy," Hoseok, who was now on his other side, suggested. "This is only soundcheck, after all. I know you'll want to go all out for the concert tonight, and you can't do that if you tire yourself out now."

Namjoon hummed in agreement, rubbing his hand up and down Yoongi's back in comfort. He hated seeing his members and best friends sick. He was the leader and would fight for them to the ends of the earth, but there was only so much he could do about physical illnesses.

"I'll be okay," Yoongi tried to reassure after finally catching his breath. "We've only got one more song to run through, and then I can sleep until the concert. And then I'll talk with our doctor after. I'll be okay."

Hoseok and Namjoon looked like they wanted to argue, but the manager was calling for them to get set for the second song. Plus, they knew Yoongi was stubborn and that they wouldn't be able to change his mind.

Yoongi stood up, threw the empty water bottle to the side, and went to his starting position, the other two following.

The song started, and Yoongi still gave it his all. He was moving through the motions, albeit a little wobbly, but he was making it through.

See, I told them I was okay.

As soon as that thought passed through his head, Yoongi stumbled, but luckily he caught himself before he fell completely. He continued the choreography, but quickly glanced around to see if anyone had noticed, which it didn't seem like they did.

Yoongi's verse came up, and he moved to the center of the stage, glad that he could stop dancing for a moment while he rapped. He would never admit it, but spots had started dancing around his vision, which probably had been the cause of him stumbling.

By the time his verse was over, the spots had cleared, and Yoongi was grateful. He quickly moved back into the choreography, letting Hoseok take over the song.

Of course, as soon as he thought he was in the clear, the spots returned. Yoongi chose to ignore them. The song was almost over and then he could go and sleep it off. That's all it was, right? He just needed a little more sleep and everything would be okay in time for the concert tonight.

Famous last words, Yoongi thought as his vision turned darker and he stumbled again, this time making it all the way to the knees before catching himself.

He barely registered the music stopping. He thought he heard someone call out his name, but he couldn't be too sure. He was too focused on trying to get his vision back to normal and keeping himself upright. It all became too much, and Yoongi finally gave in.

Maybe Hoseok was right and I do need to get help sooner, was Yoongi’s last thought before giving in to the darkness.

"Bangan's Min Yoongi has collapsed during soundcheck before a show in England."

" Taehyung! Get in here!" Jungkook called from the couch. He had been switching through channels and happened to land on the news when he saw a picture of Bangtan.

"What? I was just about to go to bed," Taehyung grumbled, trudging into the living room, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It was now Saturday night, and even though he had spent most of the day in bed, Taehyung was ready to get more sleep.

"Look!" Jungkook pointed to the TV, where a picture of Yoongi was on the screen.

Taehyung felt his heart lurch.

"They said he collapsed at a soundcheck!" Jungkook recapped. "You were right when you said he looked tired."

Taehyung then felt his heart fall to his stomach.

Is Yoongi going to be okay? He has to okay! I can't live without him! Wait, what am I saying? I'm just a fan. We've met once. I'm not a crazed fan. He has his life, and I have mine. I'll be okay. He'll be okay. It'll all be okay.

Sitting down on the couch next to his roommate, Taehyung stared at the TV, waiting for the news anchor to give more updates.

"An ambulance was seen leaving the venue by fans, which prompted an outcry from fans online, demanding to know if the members of Bangtan were okay.

"BigHit released a statement shortly after, stating Min Yoongi, the oldest in the group, had collapsed during soundcheck and that he was being treated at a nearby hospital. They did not give any indication as to his current status or what caused him to collapse. The concert for tonight has also been canceled.

"Fans from all over the world are now sending in messages of support for Yoongi, hoping the rapper recovers soon.

"This is a breaking news story; we'll keep you updated as we receive more information."

The room was silent as Jungkook muted the TV. Taehyung knew he shouldn't feel this upset about his favorite idol being sick, but he couldn't help it. He felt the need to hop on a plane and go and take care of the man himself. Which was obviously out of the question, and only something that an obsessed fan would do.

"Hey, he's going to be okay," Jungkook tried to reassure.

Taehyung just nodded, curling himself further into his blanket.

"It's probably just exhaustion. You know he likes to work, and with them being on tour, it probably didn't help," Jungkook reasoned. "Hey, maybe it's a sympathy sickness. He knew his biggest fan wasn't feeling so great, so now he's feeling a little under the weather, too"

Taehyung didn't laugh at Jungkook's attempt at a joke, but his lip did twitch.

"I'm going to head to bed," Taehyung finally spoke up a few minutes later.

Slowly dragging himself off the couch, Taehyung made his way toward his room, all but collapsing on his bed.

The next morning, Jungkook woke up early and decided to make breakfast for him and Taehyung. He hoped he could cheer the other man up. First, he'd had a crappy week at work and had been feeling sick, and now Yoongi getting sick. It was just not Taehyung's week.

"Taehyung, I made breakfast," Jungkook lightly knocked on the older man's door.

Silence.

"Tae Tae? Are you up?" Jungkook tried again.

More silence.

"I made your favorite! You can't stay in bed all day!"

Silence again. Now Jungkook was starting to get worried. Taehyung wasn't a super heavy sleeper, and usually knocking on his door would wake him up.

"I'm coming in, so I hope you're decent," Jungkook tried one last time before slowly opening the door.

All the lights were off, and the blinds were still closed. Jungkook could still make out a Taehyung-sized lump on the bed, covered in a mound of blankets.

"Taehyung?"

No answer.

Jungkook walked to the bed and carefully put a hand on what he thought would be Taehyung's shoulder under all the blankets. He shook the man slightly, hoping to get a response now.

"Taehyung, it's time to wake up. I made breakfast."

Still no response. Not even a slight movement from under the blankets.

"Taehyung, this isn't funny. Come on, wake up."

Jungkook shook the man a little harder. There was no way he could still be asleep after all that. Jungkook's heart started racing. Something had to be wrong. Quickly, Jungkook started grabbing blankets and throwing them over his shoulder, not caring where they landed.

Finally, Jungkook saw a fluffy head of hair peeking out from the final blanket.

"Taehyung," Jungkook tried one last time, shaking his shoulder again. Still no response.

Jungkook quickly pulled the last blanket down. Taehyung laid on his bed, eyes closed, unmoving. Looking over him, Jungkook didn't see any physical injuries that would cause him to be in this state. Luckily, he did see Taehyung’s chest moving up and down.

Trying one last time, hoping that this was all some stupid prank or that he was still sleeping, Jungkook called his name and shook his shoulders, even tapping the older man's cheeks lightly to see if it would cause the man to stir.

No response.

"Oh God, Taehyung. No, no, no. Please be okay. Please be okay."

Jungkook quickly ran out of the room to grab his phone to call an ambulance.

He has to be okay. He has to be okay.

“What do you mean soulmate sickness? He’s never met his soulmate!” Namjoon argued with the doctor.

After Yoongi collapsed on stage, he hadn’t woken up, so an ambulance was called. Namjoon, Hoseok, and one of their managers had been waiting at the hospital all night for the doctors to tell them what was happening with Yoongi. They hadn’t been told anything all night, not even if he had woken up.

“All the signs and symptoms point to soulmate sickness, I’m afraid,” the doctor repeated. “If he doesn’t know who his soulmate is, it will make it that much harder for him to get better, I’m afraid.”

“How long do we have to find his soulmate?” the manager spoke up. Namjoon’s vision blurred from tears he refused to let fall. How could he forget? If two soulmates weren’t reunited within a certain time period, then both would die.

“I’m afraid he’s probably only got about a week, based on his condition. Unfortunately, since soulmate sickness is different in everyone, we can’t be completely certain how long it will take,” the doctor replied.

Namjoon fell into the cheap chair he’d been sitting in for the past eight hours. He heard a loud sob from the chair next to him.

Hoseok.

Namjoon quickly wrapped his arms around the other man, trying to hold his own tears back. He needed to keep it together for the both of them. At least long enough to finish hearing what the doctor had to say.

“What can we do?” the manager kept the conversation going, even though he looked like he was ready to be sick or cry or both.

“You need to find his soulmate. The closer they are together, the more time you’ll give him. I’d say it’s been a little over a month since he met his soulmate, so if that helps you by knowing where he was then. Once you’re able to find his soulmate, we can move either Yoongi or his soulmate, who is probably also in the same condition, to be with each other. Once they’re in close proximity, like the same room, they should start healing,” the doctor explained.

“Thank you, doctor,” the manager replied.

The next few moments passed in silence, barr Hoseok sobbing into Namjoon’s chest, while the manager pulled out his phone to look at Bangtan’s schedule.

“The fan meeting!” the manager called out in surprise.

“What?” Namjoon asked, shocked.

Hoseok, curious, pulled himself away from Namjoon’s chest, wiping away his tears.

“The fan meeting!” the manager repeated. “It was a little over a month ago! That had to be where he met his soulmate. I don’t know how he didn’t realize it, but that had to have been it. You all weren’t really doing much around then, just a few interviews here and there. I can reach out to the people from the interviews to be sure, but I’m positive it had to have been from the fan meeting.”

Hope bloomed in Namjoon’s chest. They could do this. They would be able to find Yoongi’s soulmate, and he would be okay. He had to be.

“This has to be a prank. He hasn’t met his soulmate. There’s no way it could be soulmate sickness,” Jungkook argued.

“That’s what all the signs are pointing to, I’m afraid. Taehyung must have met his soulmate and not realized it,” the doctor replied. “If you can’t find his soulmate soon, there’s not much we can do. Based on the level of his symptoms, he’s probably got about a week left, give or take.”

A sob wracked it’s way out of Jungkook. No. There was no way he was going to let his best friend die.

“Based on that information, I would say that he met his soulmate a little over a month ago, if that helps you find his soulmate. Please let me know if I can help in any way,” the doctor tried to reassure.

Jungkook kept his scoff inside as the doctor walked out of the room. Sitting down next to the bed where Taehyung laid lifeless, Jungkook felt a tear slide down his cheek.

“You can’t leave me, Taehyung. I won’t let you,” Jungkook said, grabbing the other man’s hand. “I’m going to find your soulmate. I don’t know how, but I promise you, I’m going to find them. I won’t let you die on me. You’re not allowed. You have to get better for your soulmate. And for me. And Min Yoongi. You have to live to see him in person again.”

Jungkook laughed dryly.

Wait.

Min Yoongi.

The fan meet was a little over a month ago.

Yoongi also collapsed recently and the band had not said what was going on with him.

Bangtan had been on tour and had been far enough away from Taehyung that it would cause soulmate sickness.

Oh.

My.

God.

Taehyung’s soulmate was Min Yoongi.

It had to be. There was no other option.

“I hate you, you know that? You lucky bastard. You get Min Yoongi as your soulmate,” Jungkook spoke into the quiet hospital room. “Now how the hell am I going to get you two together?”

The next 24 hours passed in a blur for Namjoon and Hoseok. Yoongi was transferred to a hospital in Seoul, since that had to be where Yoongi’s soulmate was. They were reassured that once the two soulmates were in the same city, they would have a little more time to find each other, but it still wouldn’t be forever.

Once they arrived back in Seoul, their tour on hold indefinitely for the time being, Namjoon and Hoseok quickly got to work. They obtained a list of everyone who bought tickets for the fan meet, along with any contact information they had given. Their manager also set to work reaching out to the few interviewers they had made contact with that week, but hadn’t had any luck.

“How are we supposed to know who his soulmate is? It could be anyone! And, if they’re in the same position as Yoongi, how would we even get ahold of them anyways?” Hoseok questioned, trying to not give up, but it was hard when there was such a bleak outlook.

“It’ll be okay,” Namjoon reassured the other man. “We’ll find his soulmate, and it’ll all be okay. We can do this.”

Namjoon didn’t know if he was trying to reassure Hoseok or himself. He didn’t want to give up, he had to keep going for Yoongi, but it was hard like Hoseok said. They didn’t know everyone that had attended the fan meet, and plus, his soulmate would also be sick, so if they had collapsed like Yoongi, it would be that much harder to find them. And on top of that, they weren’t even sure if Yoongi’s soulmate was at the fan meet. For all they knew, he had passed by them on the street or on the subway. Seoul was a big city, afterall.

Namjoon and Hoseok got to work calling all the numbers they had available. They only stayed on the line for a few moments, mainly just to confirm the identity of the person and see if they were able to pick up the phone. They didn’t say who they were or who they were with, they not only didn’t have the time, they didn’t want any word getting out around why they were calling people.

Two hours and fifty phone calls later, no progress had been made.

“Ugh, this isn’t working,” Namjoon slammed his phone down on the table. So far, everyone had picked up the call and had sounded fine.

The rest of the afternoon was spent making phone calls, but Hoseok and Namjoon didn’t have any luck. They made a list of about ten people who hadn’t picked up with the intent to call them another time, but there was no guarantee that Yoongi’s soulmate was one of those people.

Realizing there was nothing further they could do at the moment, Namjoon and Hoseok went to the hospital, wanting to keep an eye on Yoongi.

They both spent the night on the small chairs in the room, wanting to be there in case something happened. Namjoon woke with a crick in his neck, but he didn’t care.

That day was spent the same as before, Namjoon and Hoseok searching for Yoongi’s soulmate with no luck. At the end of the day, the two made their way back to the hospital. Yoongi’s complexion was slowly getting paler, and he was getting noticeably thinner. Namjoon didn’t like it.

The next morning, Namjoon decided he’d spend the day at the hospital, searching for Yoongi’s soulmate from there.

Namjoon left the hospital, intent on grabbing his laptop and the fan meet attendee list from his studio and heading right back. He didn’t want to leave Yoongi for long.

Walking through the front doors of the building, a commotion at the reception desk caught his attention.

“Please, you have to help me,” a man pleaded. “My friend, he’s sick. He’s Min Yoongi’s soulmate. He’ll die if I don’t get him help. Please.”

Could it be?

Namjoon froze. This had to be it. No other explanation was possible (besides maybe a crazed fan), but based on the look on the man’s face, Namjoon believed he was telling the truth.

Running over before security could throw him out, Namjoon called out to the reception desk.

“He’s okay, let him be.”

The man looked over, and Namjoon could see tears running down his cheeks. He had dark purple bags under his eyes like he hadn’t slept in a week. Namjoon now fully believed the man was telling the truth. He couldn’t believe it.

“Follow me,” Namjoon waved him over, turning and heading toward his studio.

The man quickly followed.

“I’m Namjoon, but you probably already knew that,” Namjoon said, turning toward the other man after closing the door behind them in his studio.

“I’m Jungkook,” Jungkook said, nodding. “Please, you have to help me. My best friend is Yoongi’s soulmate, and he’s dying. I can’t watch him die.”

Namjoon gestured for the two to sit on the couch.

“Can you tell me why you think so?” Namjoon questioned, wanting to hear his story before making any rash decisions.

“Taehyung, my friend, and I attended Bangtan’s fan meet last month,” Jungkook started. “When y’all left for tour, Taehyung started to feel exhausted all the time and like he had a cold or flu or something. I didn’t put all this together until a few days ago, when I found him unresponsive in his bed.

“When the doctor at the hospital told me it was soulmate sickness, I happened to think about the fact that Yoongi had also collapsed, and when the doctor said Taehyung likely met his soulmate about a month ago, I realized the two must be soulmates. Everything matched up, including the distance and when y’all left.

“You all sure are hard to get ahold of,” Jungkook laughed wryly. “I’ve been trying for days, but everyone just thinks I’m a crazed fan or something. I promise, I’m telling the truth. God, you probably think I’m crazy or something. But I have to do something. Taehyung probably only has a few more days left. He’s started declining, and I couldn’t just sit there and watch.”

Jungkook rubbed his hands over his face, attempting to gather his thoughts. It had been a long few days, and finally, he had gotten ahold of someone at BigHit. And it was Kim Namjoon of all people.

“I believe you,” Namjoon spoke a moment later.

Jungkook’s head snapped up.

“You do?”

“Yes,” Namjoon reassured. “Yoongi also has soulmate sickness. We haven’t released that to the public, so unless you made a really, really lucky guess, you’re telling the truth. I believe you.”

Jungkook sagged into the couch, feeling like he could finally breathe for the first time all week.

“Okay, so what do we do now?” Jungkook asked.

“Now, we get Taehyung and Yoongi to the same hospital and to the same room, and then hopefully, they get better.”

Moving Yoongi and Taehyung to the same hospital turned out to be an easy job. The hospital quickly moved Taehyung via ambulance to the hospital Yoongi was in. Not even two hours after Namjoon made the first call, Taehyung’s hospital bed was rolled into Yoongi’s room.

“This is him?” Hoseok asked, quickly standing up where he had been sitting vigil beside Yoongi’s bed.

Namjoon and Jungkook followed behind the hospital staff pushing the bed.

“Yes, this is Yoongi’s soulmate, Kim Taehyung,” Namjoon replied. “Hoseok, meet Taehyung’s best friend, Jeon Jungkook.”

The two bowed to each other, but quickly focused back on the hospital staff. Nurses were running around the room, getting Taehyung hooked up to the new machines, keeping the two hospital beds as close together as possible.

A few moments later, Yoongi’s doctor walked in.

“Hello, everyone. You must be Jungkook, Kim Taehyung’s friend? I’m Dr. Choi,” she said, turning to introduce herself to the Jungkook. “I’ve been treating Yoongi since he’s been here this week, and I will be taking over Taehyung’s treatment as well.

“Today is a good day, and to be frank, really good timing. If you hadn’t found each other within the next 24 hours, it might have been too late for either of them. But, none of that matters now because they’re both here.

“Treatment from here on out shouldn’t be too medical. Their bodies will recognize that their soulmate is near and start healing on their own. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours for them to wake up, and no more than 24 hours for them to fully recover. We’ll leave you all alone, but once they wake up, please let us know,” Dr. Choi finished.

She bowed and left the room, the nurses following behind.

“Oh my god,” Jungkook sighed in relief, plopping down in the chair next to Taehyung’s bed. “I can’t believe he’s going to be okay.”

“You can say that again,” Hoseok said, moving to the chair next to Yoongi’s bed.

The next few hours passed rather quickly for Jungkook, Hoseok, and Namjoon. The three spent the time getting to know each other, learning about each other’s lives, Jungkook talking about his job as a graphic designer, and Namjoon and Hoseok telling Jungkook about what being part of Bangtan was really like without all the cameras.

Jungkook hadn’t let go of Taehyung’s hand since he’d sat down, so when a finger moved, Jungkook felt it right away.

“Taehyung?” Jungkook squeezed the other man’s hand, cutting off Namjoon’s story about the time when he ruined his studio computer by tripping and spilling his coffee all over the desk. “Can you hear me?”

This time, a couple of Taehyung’s fingers moved, causing Jungkook to scoot his chair closer to the bed.

“Come on, Taehyung, you can do it,” Jungkook urged.

Taehyung’s eyes started to slowly flutter open as he let out a small groan. Jungkook squeezed his hand again, afraid that what he was seeing wasn’t real. It had been a rollercoaster of emotions the last couple of days, and Jungkook never wanted to go through this again.

“What’s going on?” Taehyung slurred out. Luckily, Jungkook had heard enough of Taehyung’s just-woke-up voice to understand him easily.

“You’re in the hospital, Taehyung,” Jungkook replied.

Taehyung’s eyes slowly wided, finally looking around the room. When they landed on Namjoon and Hoseok sitting across from him, looking on earnestly, his eyes widened even more, which Jungkook didn’t think was possible.

“What?” Taehyung mumbled.

“You had soulmate sickness, Taehyung,” Jungkook explained. “You met your soulmate, and I found you passed out in your bed. You’ve been here ever since.”

“Soulmate sickness?” Taehyung asked, finally seeming to fully wake up. “But, I didn’t-”

“You did,” Jungkook interrupted, pointing to the other bed.

Taehyung turned, finally looking at the man in the other bed.

“That’s Min Yoongi. Oh my god, that’s Min Yoongi,” Taehyung whispered. “My soulmate is Min Yoongi?”

Taehyung turned back to his best friend, shock written all over his face. Jungkook grinned and nodded.

“You lucky bastard,” he replied, laughing. “You get Min fucking Yoongi as your soulmate. Which, maybe you don’t deserve because you didn’t even know you’d met him! And, if you ever do this to me again, I’m going to kill you myself!”

Jungkook tried to keep his tone light, but the last few days had been weighing heavily on him. He’d had to watch his best friend almost die.

Taehyung opened his arms for a hug and Jungkook threw himself on the bed.

“It’s too early, why is it so loud in here?” a grumbly voice came from the other bed.

“Oh my god, Yoongi!” Hoseok screeched, jumping out of his chair.

Jungkook pulled himself off Taehyung slightly, still holding on to his best friend, but helped him sit up so he could see Yoongi waking up.

“Hoseok? Why are you here? Wait, where is here?” Yoongi asked, finally opening his eyes and looking around the room.

“You had soulmate sickness,” Namjoon explained, then going on to explain how Taehyung was Yoongi’s soulmate and how they found each other.

“So, you’re my soulmate, huh?” Yoongi asked, looking over at the other bed.

Taehyung blushed and nodded. He really couldn’t believe it. Maybe his life really was a Y/N fanfiction.

“So, how exactly did this happen? I thought it was easy to tell when you met your soulmate?” Yoongi questioned.

“I actually have a theory for that,” Jungkook spoke up, still attached to Taehyung on his bed. “Since Taehyung was already a big fan of Bangtan and of you, Yoongi, when you two met, it didn’t really change much for him.”

“Way to make me sound like a crazed fan, Jungkook,” Taehyung interrupted.

“I think it’s cute,” Yoongi said.

Taehyung felt himself blush again. If this is what it was going to be like when he was around Yoongi, his face was going to be permanently red for the rest of his life. But, maybe he was okay with that.

“But what about Yoongi?” Namjoon asked.

“I actually had some trouble with that,” Jungkook replied. “Once I realized it was probably Yoongi, I went back and looked at videos from the fan meet. When Yoongi first saw Taehyung, Namjoon came up behind him and said something, so I guess in all the excitement of the day and whatever was said, you must not have registered the feeling, Yoongi.”

“So this is all your fault, Namjoon,” Hoseok teased, lightly slapping the other boy on the shoulder. Namjoon looked at his hands sheepishly.

“It’s okay, Joonie,” Yoongi reassured. “It’s all okay now, and I have my soulmate, and we’re all going to be okay now.”

Yoongi reached across the bed for Taehyung’s hand, which he gratefully took.

“I’m going to go get the doctor,” Namjoon said, standing up. “She said to let her know when you both woke up. Jungkook, Hoseok, why don’t you come with me?”

Jungkook seemed reluctant to leave Taehyung, but he knew Namjoon was trying to give the two new soulmates a few minutes alone to get to know each other. The three made their way out of the room, the door clicking softly shut behind them.

“So, soulmates, huh?” Yoongi spoke first.

“Looks like it,” Taehyung replied. “I feel really weird since I was a fan before.”

Yoongi hummed in acknowledgment.

“How about we start over?” Yoongi suggested. “I obviously know nothing about you yet, and what you might know about me as a fan doesn’t even scratch the surface of who I am.”

“How do we do that?” Taehyung asked, confused.

“Hi, my name is Min Yoongi, and it looks like you’re my soulmate,” Yoongi said, pulling his hand away from Taehyung’s, just to lift it, ready to shake the other’s hand.

Taehyung giggled, but shook Yoongi’s hand.

“I’m Kim Taehyung, and you’re my soulmate,” Taehyung replied.

“Nice to meet you, Taehyung,” Yoongi grinned. “Tell me about yourself, soulmate. My life is boring. I’m just a songwriter and rapper, nothing too interesting. I want to hear all about your life.”

Taehyung laughed, heart swooping at the word soulmate. He started telling the other man about his job at the museum and his life, Yoongi listening intently.

Neither knew what would happen once they left the hospital, but they were content to know they had found each other. They survived soulmate sickness; whatever life decided to throw at them next, they knew they could handle it since they had each other.

I had to make the end super cheesy. No other option, sorry. Let me know what you all think!! I spent way too long on this fic, but I’m really happy with it! Also, if you have a prompt for a fic or social media au, let me know! I now have no works in progress, so I’d love to work on something else! :)

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