#3) I've just explained what pride is to her and she was like 'ah yeah cool'

[garoumylove]

Golden Hour Part 3

This is Part 3 of my new slow burn GarouxReader :) you can also read it here on AO3! ♥️♥️ (It's told from his pov!)

~*~

Some of the things she said, they sound like empty platitudes, I think as I try not to get too used to the hot water but damn it feels fucking good.

Two minutes, I remind myself. Two minutes.

'You have so much potential' and all that bs I've heard so many fucking times before. Teachers, that old man…But they never mean it. It's just one of those things they're taught to say to a kid to get them to shut up, to believe in themselves but it ain’t nothing but false hope.

Potential in what? You notice how vague those words are? Empty compliments so the pathetic kid won't feel so fucking bad.

I would know.

Two minutes.

But then, she never said 'you have potential'. She said I had things going for me. Well, that ain't a lie. I've picked up a thing or two over the years and I can feel that cocky pride creeping up on my face again. I can't help it.

You could say I'm really a Cinderella story, if instead of a ball Cinderella went underground and beat the shit out of everyone who made her life hell when everyone least expected it. Or somethin' like that.

But then this little voice in the back of my mind says, and then what?

But two minutes are almost up.

What do you mean, and then what?

That's the goal, ain't it? To get to the top and show everyone… To become the greatest threat so no one fucking even dares to think about looking in my direction. About making some miserable kid’s life a living hell just because he doesn’t know how to throw a punch.

There's a lot of injustice in this world.

She said she didn't know what was in that head of mine…But there it is. I'm trying to even out the balance of power, see. Because if the underdog doesn't rise up, these people will forget, will think they can walk all over everyone. Someone's gotta put them in their place.

Shit, two minutes.

I turn the water off, reluctantly I gotta say.

And then what?

Ah, shut the fuck up.

I had thought no one understood me. Call it arrogance but that's what I'd been shown again and again. No one understood why the fuck I did what I did. Even back then, even when I wasn't starting it, just a stupid weak kid trying to stand up for himself. But somehow it always backfired. I was always the one in trouble. So many words tossed around: troublemaker, delinquent, aggressive tendencies, defiance, I think I even heard 'unhinged' once. They thought I'd hear these things and cower, frightened to be thought of as this terrible thing. But it just added welcome fuel to the fire. The more they called me a monster the more I wanted to become one and show them all.

I have to admit, it may have gotten a little out of hand at some point, when they called that old man in since there was no one else to call and explained the situation to him. That I'd no longer be welcome at school. They even took out a trespass notice against me. And I took that personally and with pride.

But then she'd gone and looked down on it all, on everything I was doing, reduced it all to school yard scraps. And it felt like a slap in the face. What would she know anyway? But the way she said it, not making a mockery of me, but as if she was explaining some reality I hadn't thought of. And for a moment I wanted to be in the grown up world there with her. Where this bullshit didn't matter. Just for a moment. And least of all, I never thought I'd actually make it here, into her bedroom…

I push all that goddamn thinking away, pulling these clothes back on, also reluctantly. Half-heartedly still hoping she’ll join me in here, but no such fucking luck.

“Just put it on the floor there,” she says, looking up at me from the couch she’s curled up on as I stand in the hallway, towel in hand. What, on the floor right there?

“Yeah, just chuck it on the floor,” she says to my confused expression, wiggling her spoon at me to indicate it’s fine.

Feels kinda…impolite but I’ll do as I’m told here.

“Come,” she says, waving the teaspoon towards herself now and then pointing to the small colourful bowl she’s got set out on the coffee table, just like the one she’s holding. “Or are you telling me you’re so bad ass you don’t like ice cream?”

Fuck no. I fucking love ice cream! But…

The whole point was to get away quickly and now…

“You’re impossible,” she says, shaking her head.

Alright, fine. If she’s gone to all that trouble.

This couch is a lot more comfortable than the piece of shit thing I got back home. I sit as far away from her as possible, but this thing ain’t that wide and that distance, it’s almost nothing.

She’s too engrossed in the thing she’s got going on the TV. I catch a glance of her pulling the little spoon out of her mouth slowly, give it one last lick, the tip of her tongue gliding along its back, before dipping it back into her bowl.

Fuck. Now I’m imagining that tongue of hers somewhere else.

“What?” she says, pausing and turning to me.

“Nothin’,” I say, clearing my throat again.

“You’re finished already?” She leans over a bit and checks. “See, and you said you didn’t want any,” she smiles triumphantly.

“I never said that,” I say, not happy when something untrue is attributed to me.

“Sorry,” she laughs. “Here,” she shoves her half-finished bowl at me, the spoon still in it, looking away, uninterested in my response.

Fine then.

She starts talking, telling me about the thing she’s watching.

“I started this show a couple of nights ago. It’s really good. I don’t usually watch stuff like this but you see this guy…” and she goes on telling me about the intricacies of this drama but all I can concentrate on is this spoon that’s just been in her mouth. I feel it against my tongue, try to catch a hint, a sliver of the taste of her mouth on it, under all this ice cream.

The taste of her mouth, her tongue…I’ve tasted every bit of her and it’s still never enough. I’ve run my tongue all over her, just like I was doing half an hour ago, and I’d do it again if it wasn’t for my mind beginning to shut down, the sleep overtaking me…

“Wait, one more episode!” she says as the credits roll and she clicks the remote as I start to get up. “Can’t leave on a cliffhanger!”

I sit back down and pretend I’m following whatever is going on. It’s the least I can do after being fed so well.

I stare at the screen but nowhere near as enraptured as her. I stare at the screen but my mind is elsewhere. I haven’t felt like this in a long time. Warm and clean and well-fed. In an actual home. Not my home, clearly. But a home. A place someone actually cares about. This is just a normal evening for most people, I suppose. And maybe if I stopped being such a hippy, like she says, and got a job, I could sit just like this in my own damn house.

No. It still wouldn’t be the same because she wouldn’t be there. I could have all the central heating and fancy dinners but it wouldn’t be the same. I could have all the Coke too. That cheers me up.

But no, even with all the Coke, it still wouldn’t be the same.

This feeling…This tightness in my chest again despite the warmth and the comfortable couch.

I close my eyes for a moment.

When I open them again I’m alone and surrounded by a quiet darkness. I blink once or twice, feeling somewhat disoriented for a moment. I remember where I am. The couch is just as goddamn comfortable as before and I’m covered by some sort of fluffy blanket or something of the like.

Well, that’s fucking embarassing. What time is it? Ah fuck, it doesn’t matter. It’s time to leave, that’s what.

I get up, being my quietest, and make my way to the front door. She’s got that chain latch thing and another lock and by the time I’ve slowly got everything undone, avoiding the noise of metal on metal as much possible, she’s standing halfway down the stairs.

“Are you going?” she says, covering a yawn.

I turn to look up at her, standing there in the moonlit shadows, wearing some sort of robe as it slips off one of her gorgeous bare shoulders and she pulls it back up without thinking. It just makes me wonder what, if anything, she’s got on underneath.

No, fuck. Down boy.

“Yeah,” I say, hand on the doorhandle.

“Ok,” she says, completely unbothered. “Good night,” another little yawn. “Come by again if you want.”

If? Is she playing with me? There is no if to my want. But that doesn’t matter.

She comes all the way downstairs. It takes me a moment to realise it’s not for me, it’s to lock the door behind me. I don’t know if she realises how close she’s standing to me, her warm smell, intoxicating and inviting begins to fill my head. I open the door quickly before I get ahead of myself and she leans her hand on it, the robe slipping off her shoulder again. She’s so fucking close. Just a few inches and I’d taste her skin, fight an overwhelming desire to kiss her bare shoulder, more if she’d let me.

“See you Wolf Cub,” she smiles through sleepy eyes as she watches me make my way out. “Remember, get a job,” she calls quietly after me into the night, joking but probably not, before closing the door, and I’m gone from her world again.

And I want to fuck.

Her, I mean. I ain’t denying it or dancing around it anymore.

I’d sell my fucking soul to fuck her right now. To go right back in there, up those stairs, get in bed with her…

And what would she do? She’d probably laugh in that kind way of hers. What the fuck would she want with me?

And then it hits me, like ice cold water in the fucking face when you least expect it. Maybe someone else already is? Fucking her, I mean. Or she him. Fuck, I don’t know. Why did this not occur to me before? Just fucking assumed it was just me and her. Got pulled into that fantasy so hard…

Who am I to her, even?

The thought sends a new kind of rage through me that I hadn’t felt before. It’s curious but infuriating at the same fuckin’ time.

Getting fucked is not that hard. Makes me think back to that shitty school. Everyone talking about nothin’ else, who is fuckin’ whom. As if there ain’t anything else on earth going on. And probably for all those assholes there wasn’t. And there was no shortage of offers.

And I know, there’d be no shortage now either. And despite being a trespasser in my own goddamn school, it wouldn’t be very hard to get what I want.

But it’s her.

Every part of me is aching to fuck her. To press her naked and wanting close to me. Feel every inch of her body against mine. To show her-

To show her what??

I don't know. But this thing in my chest…

It has to be her. I don’t know why. This tightness in my chest, it starts to burn slowly.

I don’t get it.

Is it because I saw a beautiful pair of tits in a window weeks and weeks ago?

No. That's not it. Well it is, but there's somethin’ else. Somethin’ I can't fucking describe. But then when she looks right at me. It's there. When her hands took my face…

Fuck.

Only her. Nothin’, no one else will do.

I ain’t nothing if not a tenacious bastard. And when I set my mind to something I will get it. But I remember, for the first time in a long time, being unsure. This wasn't the same. Getting what I wanted wasn't just a question of being strong or winning this time. And it puzzled and frustrated the fuck out of me. I wanted her. I wanted her to want me. And I had no idea what she thought. Sometimes I still don't. But she tells me she loves me. Every time. I don't need to know anymore. I faintly feel her fingers curl around the damp ends of my hair gently, her smiling words, quiet and soothing. "Sleep now, Wolf. Sleep a little. I love you."

I'm too preoccupied with these raging thoughts I almost notice too late my visitor coming up the street. How the fuck do these assholes find out where I live?

This ain't the first time. Some of them come back for revenge and to salvage whatever little pride they have left.

It never ends well. And with these new unwelcome ideas, I'm not in a merciful mood.

I grab the intruder by the scruff of the neck before he knows what hit him and drag him down the street, away from her house, from mine. Down to the street corner, the world around us asleep. He definitely wasn't expecting this. I don't even know who this son of a bitch is. There are too many to remember.

"Alright," I say, letting go, holding myself wide open. "Go. Get your best shot in."

I'm growing impatient. Want to get this over and done with.

He hesitates, still dazed being caught off guard like that.

"Oi, are you goin' to do this or not?" I say, trying to be nice.

He seems to liven up a bit, to remember the shame of the thrashing I must've given him the last time we met. I don't. I don't remember. I don't remember many of them any more since they go down so easy. So easy and pathetic.

"Fuck you!" He yells.

"Not so loud," I shush him, looking around. "People are sleeping. Use your quiet fuckin' voice."

This seems to rile him up even more and that's always fun.

He grunts and delivers his best punch. And I hardly feel it, still lost in my own fury.

"Very good," I say, unable to keep the derision out of my voice. "Got anythin’ else?"

He tries again, just as pathetic as the first.

"Alright, that's enough," I say. He's wasted too much of my time now. And if I didn't give him a good enough beating the first time, I make sure to do it this time so he won't be comin’ round here again and bothering me when I ain't in the mood.

I probably go a bit too hard at it. My bad. But I'm already in a fucked off mood.

I force myself to stop, this idiot crumpled down on the street corner. Luckily still breathing. Cowering for his life. I think he gets the point.

I shake out my hand, clench and unclench my fist a few times from that hard work. He's still just kneeling on the ground there.

Fuck. This is pathetic. And then the little voice again.

And then what?

So I've beat the shit out of him and then what?

And to be honest, I don't know.

I don't fucking know.

And all I can do is laugh because for a moment this whole thing seems ridiculous. What the fuck am I doing here?

There's a whole other world. A world beyond this. A world that had clearly stated it didn't want me. But then she came along and invited me back in. 'With me.'

Maybe…

I leave. It didn’t feel like there was a point to this, no matter how enjoyable it was. I walk back home up the street, this little fucker already forgotten, back to my black thoughts of her belonging to someone else.

It took a while to get past that rage. To learn she didn’t belong to anyone. And still doesn’t. I never wanted to own her. But I wanted to be the only one there, as selfish as that is. And I’ll be the first to admit it. She doesn’t belong to anyone but she’s still mine. I know that now. I can rest easy. I can sleep. But back then…

I lay in bed that night, and the night after, and probably the one after that thinking. There’s a lot to think about. She’d given me shit to think about. And there’s nothing to return so there ain’t no way to see her and I’m left to my own devices.

I stare up at the cracked ceiling. Everything mixes together. Her disdain of my ‘bad boy phase’, that little spoon, from her pretty mouth to mine, get a job, the warmth of that blanket over me, the taste of ice cream, the smell of someone else’s blood on a street corner, the view of her body, exposed to all the street but shown only to me. I remember that look she gave me. Surprise turning to mischief. She didn’t expect to see someone there, just like I hadn’t. And yet her eyes met mine and then that moment. The sound of the TV I wasn’t paying attention to. The real world, with her. The feel of hot water against my skin, relaxing my muscles. The almost inaudible Mozart (that fucker). Her hands carefully wrapping gauze around my bruised chest. Get a job. What was the point of beating that little shit down the street?

Is there a point? How many of ‘em do I have to knock around?

The more the better. The more their fear of me grows.

But what’s the point?

She doesn’t even care.

No one really does.

The world, the real world above this fucked up underground scene, goes on.

But I can’t stop. I can’t back down now.

That would be weak. And what would all that fucking trouble of the past year be for?

And fuck, they might really turn the water off. There’d been some envelopes in the mail with big bold red letters lately. I don’t know. I shove them in the trash. There ain’t ever anything good in the mail.

Get a job.

And then her body again. And again. The feel of hot water on my skin as I lift her up in the shower, her legs around my waist, hands on my face.

“Fuck me,” she says as the water runs over her mouth and I happily oblige while…

…that dream was really somethin’. Really, really somethin’. I don’t need to glance under the sheets to know. But now I gotta strip them off, and hope they haven’t turned the water off yet.

I came to no conclusions over those weeks. There ain’t now way I was giving up my ‘extra-curricular activities’. I didn’t even try. Despite that fuckin’ echo in my mind, and then what? I found I didn’t need an answer. The thrill of it kept me going back again and again. Every round, every fight a step closer to something I felt was big and fucking important. Even now, every once in a while I have to get out there. I have to head out in the middle of the night. I have to prove it to myself. But the need becomes a little smaller every once in a while. She doesn’t say anything when I come to her with a new bruise or scar. It doesn’t happen too often. We don’t talk about it. She can tell the time between these occasions grows longer. She hopes eventually I’ll grow out of it completely. I can’t promise. But I sure fucking try.

I gave no heed to her words about giving up this life. However, say what you want, but the water was a real worry. And turns out, gettin’ a job ain’t that hard in the end. Keeping it, was another matter.

#romantic troublemaker #garou #garouxreader #garou x reader #garou fanfiction #opm #opm fan fiction #x reader #reader insert #one punch man #garou one punch man #fluff and romance #fluff and angst #one punch man fanfiction

[girlpetrarca]

shout out to my sister for being the biggest ally ever

#1) she explained the concept of bisexuality to my mom and trust me she has a deeper understanding of it than half of tumblr #2) she recently discovered that in some part of the world it's not legal and/or it's punishable to be part of the lgbt community #and boy did she get reeally angry about it #3) I've just explained what pride is to her and she was like 'ah yeah cool' #4) she's probably the only person in my family who could straight up accept me if I told her I'm trans #Given the fact that she's 12 years old... #Yeah I'm pretty proud of her #personal

[multifandomwhore-003]

It's not that big of a deal

Pairing: Unlabeled! JJ Maybank x female! reader

Summary: JJ asks Kie for help, this time it isn't to dig out a treasure that's been underwater for more than a century ago, no, he has to confess something to his girlfriend that most people wouldn't.

Genre(s): Fluff.

Warnings: None!

A/N:  Last day of pride month so have this that I came up with at 3 am (I wrote this during pride month)

Gif credits to whom it belongs

𓆉︎𝙹𝙹 𝙼𝚊𝚢𝚋𝚊𝚗𝚔 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚞𝚍𝚢 𝙿𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚘𝚠 𝚒𝚖𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝𓆉︎ REQUESTS OPEN, REQUEST HERE THIS IS NOT FREE USE, YOU CANNOT USE MY WORK Reblog if you like

"It's okay if you don't wanna tell her," Kiara placed her hand on JJ's shoulder.

"But I have to," he huffed.

"Look, she's not gonna judge you, I think she'll understand,"

"Yeah, like the last one?" he sassed.

"Okay, to be fair, I had too much faith in her and I shouldn't've, but Y/N isn't like that,"

"She's not like most girls?" he added with sarcasm.

"Okay, quit the attitude dude, we're talking about you coming out to your girlfriend-"

JJ shushed her loudly, "Dude!" he whisper-yelled.

"Dude what?! She's gonna find out anyway,"

"But I'm supposed to tell her,"

"Then listen to me goddammit!"

"What am I supposed to hear? The same shit you told me last time?"

"You know what? You're right, I don't even know why you even asked me," Kiara stood up from the couch.

"No, no, no, no, no, please help me," he grabbed her wrist.

Kiara rolled her eyes returning to her previous position, "Look, just because your ex was an asshole doesn't mean all of them are gonna be,"

"But what if she is?"

"Then we'll kill her,"

"Promise?" he showed her his pinky.

"Promise," they interlaced their small fingers.

"Okay," JJ shook his fear off.

"You got this," she patted his back.

JJ sighed, he walked to the porch where he found you running away from Pope who was following you with a water gun. He smiled being overly dramatic as if about to lose you, he was afraid to do it, terrified even, but you had the right to know and he had the obligation to tell you, or at least he felt like he needed to tell you.

"Ah shit," Pope stopped noticing he no longer had any water.

"Please don't go refill it, I'm begging you," you giggled breathlessly.

"Oh, I'm definitely refilling it," he warned her.

"No, Pope wait, I uh- I wanna talk to Y/N,"

"Yeah, sure, I was just joking anyway," he entered the Chateau.

"You better!" you squeezed your hair, "Everything okay babe?" you pecked his lips.

"Depends," he cleared his throat.

"Depends on what?" you frowned.

"On you," he pulled you to sit next to him on one of the stairs.

"Okay..." you trailed off a little confused.

He looked at you, "I-" he took a deep breath, "Before I dated you, you know that I've hooked up with a lot of people,"

"Right," you nodded.

"Some of those people-" he cringed at himself, he sounded like an idiot, "Okay," he scratched his neck.

"JJ did you get a girl pregnant?" for some strange reason your mind went there.

"What? No," he dried the sweat off his hands, "It's not that I promise,"

"Then what is it?" you rubbed his back gently, "JJ it's okay you can tell me,"

"Okay, you're right," he calmed himself down, "I've been with a lot of people,"

"You already said that,"

"Yes, but what I didn't say was that amongst the many people I've slept with I didn't exactly stick to just one gender," he explained, "In fact, I kinda had a thing with a kook, a guy, I mean a kook guy,"

"Okay,"

He was caught off guard by your reaction, more like your lack of, "You don't care?"

"No, not really, no," you shook your head.

"Okay, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool, cool," he processed your words.

"I'm guessing you thought I would say something different,"

"Honestly I was expecting anything but what you just said,"

You laughed, "Look, it's not that big of a deal, you can love whoever the fuck you want to,"

"Yeah, I know it's just that my ex thought very differently," he saw the floor.

"Well, good thing she's your ex, right?"

"Yeah,"

"And hey, I like you not for who you've liked before, but for who you are, and that will never change even if you told me you've fucked an alien," you joked.

"Thank you,"

"But next time, don't be ashamed of it, even if you don't wanna live by a label,"

"I love you,"

"I love you too,"

#jj #jj maybank #jj mayback x reader #obx #jj obx #netflix #happy pride 🌈 #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank fluff

[jeojahari]

02 | kiss it better | myg

🠒 summary: you're one of the lucky ones, everyone else tells you. finding your soulmate the day you turn 18 isn't something that happens to a lot of people... but you and your other half are going to have to make a lot of progress to be able to tolerate each other.

or, you and yoongi can feel everything the other feels, and you're hell bent on causing each other pain.

🠒 pairing: yoongi x reader

🠒 genre: angst, fluff, e2l!au, soulmates!au, college au, crack?

🠒 warnings: profanity, implied smut

🠒 word count: 2.6K

🠒 notes: omg tysm for all the love im literally about to start happy sobbing rn TT i hope you enjoy this chapter!! <3

btw if my writing is not up to par at any time pls let me know, i'd hate to give you low effort writing TT

part 02: two band-aids

(series m. list)

"I am so fucking stupid."

"I know."

"I can't believe I just ran out of there without saying anything!"

"Ah. I can."

"How is it Yoongi, though? I don't understand! How can two people who are so obviously different and have zero chance at getting along be paired like this?!"

"Hey," Jimin places a comforting hand on your shoulder, "maybe this is the universe trying to prove that you can find love where you least expect it!"

You shoot him the nastiest glare you can conjure up in the moment. "You sound like a children's fairy tale synopsis. Please shut up."

"No, but think about it!" Jimin sits upright, pulling the nearest pillow into his lap. "You don't like him, and he probably doesn't like you. You hate coffee, and he's practically in love with it. The only reason you guys ever interact is Taehyung, who you happen to be in love with."

"I'm not in love with him!"

"Sure," Jimin rolls his eyes. "Anyways, this is literally the perfect recipe for romance. I feel like I have front-row seats to the best enemies to lovers story ever."

"Don't make me hit you."

"It's true, though," Namjoon pipes up from beside you. You're sandwiched between both of them in an attempt to extinguish the growing dread in the pit of your stomach. "You don't really know what he's like, Y/N. People aren't always what they seem at first glance."

"I had more than just a glance," you snap. "And I know him for exactly what he is. A fucking sociopath."

"I mean, he's nice enough," Jimin explains. "I've spoken to him a few times in passing. Maybe he just wasn't having a good day when you talked to him?"

You pause and think, because your friends are right. It's plausible, isn't it? Not every grumpy person you meet goes out of their way to be antisocial... but you can't shake off that feeling you've harbored ever since you first met him.

"I don't like this," you whine, hiding your face under the blanket. "I don't like him. I don't want to be his soulmate."

Namjoon chuckles. "Soulmates aren't always lovers, Y/N. If he's actually a sociopath, or you genuinely despise him after giving him a chance, you're not obligated to love him."

"True," Jimin nods. "My parents were never soulmates, but you know how well they get along. They had me, after all," he adds as an afterthought. "They couldn't have done that without loving each other."

Namjoon winces. "Okay, no. Didn't need to hear that."

You let out a frustrated groan, kicking your legs under the sheets. "I hate this," you grumble. "And I can't even do anything ab — oh!" You sit up, suddenly enlightened and an imaginary lightbulb over your head. "I can!"

"You can what?" Jimin asks, clearly confused. In response, you simply beam at him before doing an impromptu somersault over his legs and tumbling right off the bed, landing on the ground with a loud thump.

"Y/N?!"

"She's insane!"

"She's gone mental!"

"Is she having a seizure?"

"Do we need an ambulance?!"

"Is she okay?"

"Joon, I'm too broke to pay for the ambulance!"

You throw them both off of you. "I'm right here, very much alive, and very sane, thanks."

"Well, what was that, then?" Jimin demands. "If you were trying to show off your gymnastics skills, it didn't work. You look like a clumsy baby koala."

You point at Namjoon. "He's the clumsy one. And no, I wasn't trying to show you my nonexistent gymnastics skills." A huge smile spreads across your face. "I just discovered a great way to release all my frustration."

"By falling off the bed?"

"No, but yes." You lean in like you're about to tell them a secret. "You know... I bet Min Yoongi is cursing the heavens right now, isn't he? For pairing him with someone like me."

Namjoon stares at you incredulously. "Don't tell me..."

"She's going to do it anyway," Jimin tells him, before turning to you. "You're just going to hurt yourself to hurt him, Y/N? Are you for real?"

"It's perfect!"

"It's stupid, and usually I would tell you to go for it if you were planning to kick some dumbass's butt, but not if you're getting hurt in the process."

"Well, I'm doing it anyway," you say. You're 100% decided; you've just found the one part of your bond with Yoongi that delights you the most, and with that comes your singular goal: irritating him to no end. "And this isn't even that bad, Jimin. Wait until I'm on my period. Then he's really going to wish he never knew me."

Actually, you're screwed.

"Ouch!" you hiss, your body jerking at the pain that courses through your arm. You're forced to stop writing mid-word, the dark blue ink a mess on your paper due to these constant interruptions of your sudden movements. "What the fuck?!"

The girl sitting across from you raises her eyebrows at you, half concerned for your sanity.

"Sorry," you whisper apologetically. "My soulmate's a jerk. Honestly, I probably caused this, but I don't regret it at all."

She laughs, eyes turning into small crescents. "Hate at first sight?"

"More like at first conversation." You sigh, letting the pen fall from your fingers. "I don't know how I'm supposed to get along with him, let alone love him. We have absolutely nothing in common, and I'm pretty sure this dislike is mutual. Which reminds me—"

You bang your knee against the table in retribution for Yoongi's attack on his own arm, a satisfied smile on your face.

"Wow." The girl stares at you, rather taken aback. "That's some serious beef you two have got."

"Yep. Can't stand him," you confirm. "What about you? Have you found yours yet?"

"Not yet," she says, trying to look indifferent — but you catch that wistful look in her eyes. "Someday soon, hopefully."

"You'll find them," you say, the exact words you've repeated to Jimin multiple times over the years. "Time is all it takes. I hope yours is less of a jerk than mine... and if they are, I'm more than happy to instruct you in the ways of torturing them."

"Noted," she smiles, before returning to her book.

You, though, can't focus. Actually, you haven't been able to concentrate on anything lately — ever since this trivial back and forth between you and Yoongi turned into something more desperate and warlike, it's all that's ever on your mind.

Sighing, you stand up, leaving your place at the table to go fetch a book from one of the many shelves lining the opposite wall of the library. It doesn't take you long to find what you're looking for, but you immediately stumble over and hit the ground, nearly knocking your head against the wood of the shelf.

"Fuck," you hear someone curse in the next aisle. You know that voice, you realize after a few seconds, immediately ducking your head around the corner in amused curiosity.

"What'd you do to yourself this time?"

Yoongi scowls at you from the ground, as irked as always. "None of your business."

"It kind of is, actually, now that I feel it too."

"Oh, really? Where was that concern when you were hurting yourself just to get back at me for doing absolutely nothing?"

"You did it back! You have no right to be telling me what I did was wrong if you decided to do it too!"

"Why the hell did you do it in the first place?"

"Shh!" The librarian walks past the two of you, giving you a sharp glare as she replaces a few books with the ones in her hands. You nod apologetically to her, head bowed.

"You're so loud," you whisper a few seconds later, just as Yoongi gets himself off the ground and has managed to gather the books he'd dropped.

"You literally started yelling first, Y/N."

A deep frown makes its way onto your face. "You know what? I still don't understand why you're like this. Can we not have a civil conversation for once? Every time I talk to you it turns into a goddamn argument!"

"Yeah, well, maybe if you'd just minded your own business, we wouldn't be having this argument!" Yoongi pauses for a breath. "You always make it an argument, Y/N, I don't go out of my way to pick a fight with you!"

"Isn't that what you're doing right now?"

"No! I just don't understand your problem with me! Look," he says, a little calmer, "I know you don't want to be my soulmate. And I'm not particularly in love with you either. But you can at least act like I'm human too, right? Or is that too much for your inflated pride?"

"Did you just call me arrogant?" you ask incredulously, trailing after him as he walks back to where he was sitting. "You think I'm doing this because I'm conceited?"

"N—"

"Well, for your information, I'm not. I just really dislike you."

Yoongi tongues his cheek in frustration, slamming his book down onto the table. "And for what?" he demands. "I like to know it if and when I fuck up, Y/N. Stop repeating the fact that you hate me and just tell me why."

You flinch at his harsh tone and the sensation that sends a painful twinge through your palm. "You're just... you're so hard to talk to," you accuse. "Like, really? How am I supposed to wrap my head around this whole thing when I can't have a conversation with you without feeling like shit?"

He's gaping at you now. "I'm making you feel like shit? And you're not doing the same by basically trash talking me to my face?"

"I'm not! I'm just telling the truth; and besides, you asked!"

"Who are you to go around judging the way people are? Not everyone is bubbly and cheery, you know? Being grumpy for a second doesn't mean being grumpy for a lifetime!"

"Well, I can't tell, can I? Not when you always act like you hate the rest of the human race!"

Yoongi doesn't reply to you, just staring back at you for a few moments. Instead, his jaw clenches as he turns away without any kind of rebuttal.

"Alright," he says gruffly. "I'll go first."

Your eyes widen slightly as your frustration dissipates. You'd only meant to check on him out of curiosity after his fall, you hadn't intended for it to escalate to this scale at all... "Wait—"

"Don't bother to talk to me next time," he interrupts you, a hint of bitterness to his voice. "Since I always make you feel like shit, anyways."

"No, I didn't m—"

Yoongi's gone before you can give him any miserable excuse from your side, bag slung over his shoulder and that cup of coffee in his right hand. You catch a glimpse of his fingers wrapped around the cup, two band-aids covering the knuckles of his smallest digits, and you can't help but wonder... did you do that to him? All those days you spent wrapping bandages around your legs and arms, was he doing the same?

But you hate him, right? No matter how closely bound you two are, you're allowed to do this, aren't you?

You don't know.

You recall the sight of his worn out expression and sigh, shaking your head. Whatever it is about Min Yoongi that draws the worst out of you, you'll never know. All you're sure of is that apparently you're supposed to love him, apparently you're supposed to be his and vice versa. But you just can't.

As you trudge back to your seat, you notice that the girl from earlier is still there, still taking diligent notes — except her eyes now follow you, a mixture of concern and curiosity.

"I'm fine," you state. The words come out far harsher than intended, but she doesn't seem to take offense.

"Really?" she asks instead. "S'great if you are, but if you're not then you're just lying to yourself, Y/N."

You blink at her, surprised. "Huh? How'd you know my name?"

"You guys were yelling," she explains. "I could hear him from over here."

"Aish. Sorry."

"Don't worry about it." She chews on her pencil for a second, seemingly contemplating something. "Mind if I give you my two cents?"

The girl's awfully blunt and gets right to the point, and it reminds you of your friends for a moment. Something about her just makes you want to trust her, to let her in.

So you shrug your shoulders and say, "Sure."

"Second chances only come once."

"Huh?"

She nods, tucking her hair behind her ear. "You don't really know anything about him," she says. "You don't know what's happened to him before. You could be his second chance, and he probably just took a blow after that whole debacle you two had over there."

"What?"

She chuckles softly, and you find yourself rethinking your stance on the situation. She's right, she's right, your heart tells you, but your brain is saying something else entirely, and it's maddening.

"Give him a chance, Y/N. Everyone deserves one."

Hours later, you're still thinking about what a random stranger said to you at the library earlier.

Yoongi? A chance? No, thank you. You don't need to waste any more of your time on guys that aren't going to give you the time of day once they're not interested.

And yet, a small part of your conscience says otherwise. He's not just any guy, it reminds you. You're soulmates for a reason.

You're so frustrated you want to tear your hair out. "Soulmates are stupid!"

Jimin walks into your room with two cans of soda, an eyebrow raised as he tosses one to you. "Yikes, Y/N. What's gotten into you today?"

"Min Yoongi," you grumble.

Your best friend gapes at you, nearly spilling his soda all over himself. "I'm sorry, what?"

"What?"

"Already, Y/N?!"

You're confused as you take a sip of the sweet drink. "Already what, Jimin?"

He's opening and closing his mouth, eyes so wide he looks like a clown out of those children's cartoons. "You and Yoongi — you guys — I can't believe you finally got laid!"

This prompts you to spit out the liquid in your mouth, dissolving into a coughing fit as you try and regain your breath.

"There, there," Jimin says, stroking your back gently. "I won't mention it again if you don't want me to, I'm sorry. Was he a bad lay?"

"A bad what? Jimin, I don't know what you think I'm doing, but having sex with him is most certainly not on my list," you frown.

Your best friend, on the other hand, looks totally dumbfounded.

"Huh? But you answered with his name!"

You smack the side of his head gently. "That's not how idioms work, dumbass."

"Okay, sheesh, sorry," he apologizes, rubbing his temple. "But really, though. Everything okay with Yoongi?"

"Not really," you say truthfully, "but it's fine. Neither of us are expecting anything from the other."

Jimin looks skeptical as he eyes you carefully. "You sure?"

"Mhm."

He tilts his head back, draining the can of soda as he swallows. "You know, Y/N, maybe you should give the guy a chance."

There it is again, that word. The one thing everyone tells you that you need to give.

But is it worth your time? Is he worth your time? Or is he just going to walk away and leave you broken again? Maybe you're being selfish, but you'd rather spare yourself the heartbreak process than willingly go into something you know won't be good for you.

"Yeah, okay," you lie through your teeth, soda can still nearly full in your hand. "Maybe I will."

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