I am so amused of this small moment. I love grumpy, irritable Diana. Also, while Hippolyta made sure Diana grew up level headed and grounded, this was the first moment I got that Diana was a princess.
She’s not entitled but there were certain privileges afforded the daughter of Hippolyta. And you know everyone on the island who liked kids doted on Diana!
(Those who are less fond of kids might have voluntarily been anywhere but where the hyperactive wee little Diana was. It’s not they disliked the little princess, it’s just: Diana was a child, and Amazons were created fully formed from the sea– what in Athena’s name were they going to do with a tiny person???).
Also, can you imagine Diana’s teenage years? We saw a glimpse of teen!Diana but I bet she had her grumpy, sulky, angry at the world days (months?).
Plus, plus! Etta’s face and her: ‘Can’t say I blame it.’
This moment lasted less than 10 seconds and yet it’s my favorite.
Just look how grumpy she is! How irritable! She’s not used to wearing collars!
*swamped with homework and feelings and managed to shell this out a month late…I’m a mess™*
Hii can i have a drabble thingy game with jimin?TY😙😉 12,23 by
Word Count: 8.6k
He’s a literal angel
You were immersed in a deep
sleep, tired from working on a large project that was worth half your grade. In
you attempt to disconnect from the world around and sleep peacefully, you
blocked out the sounds and all touch with reality. The sudden dip in your bed
didn’t bother you, the presence of another body and an arm haphazardly wrapping
around you, these were things you were blocking out. Until you felt a finger on
“I hate you.”
“You know you love me.”
“Kiss my ass, Jimin.” You used
to think you were lucky to be paired up with your best friend in the dorms of
your university. Until you realized he was a clingy, sassy and messy guy that
never failed to annoy you. His leisure attitude towards school was opposite to
your dedication to reading every word of your textbook. He was a jock, baseball
being the reason he was here in your room and cheekily smiling at you.
“I wouldn’t mind doing that.”
You whacked him in the face with your pillow, wanting him to leave your room
but he instead pulled you closer against his chest.
“Let go of me, you pervert.”
“You told me to kiss your ass,
“I swear to god, Jimin, I’ll
suffocate you in your sleep.”
I don’t want to be swept off my feet. My god, I want someone to collide with me. I want to be knocked off my feet, to be under their weight and be engulfed by everything they are. I want to be look up into their eyes that make the sky its greatest enemy, rivalling its beauty. I want the breath to leave my lungs in the most suffocating way and when I breathe it back in my skin burns and flowers are sprouting in my collarbones with life that’s never been there. I want to be held so tightly that I can no longer tell where they start and I begin. I want lips to wonder over my neck with no real purpose. I want laughter to be the loudest echo ever heard, I want it to reach the rays of the sun and fill a warmth in my heart I didn’t know existed. I want hands to draw patterns into my skin with an ink only I can see. Let the world watch on as I become a poet with no purpose and 1001 feelings.
Love this because I don’t want to assign something to my child that is suffocating but at the same time is not gendering my child going to be any better? What if I don’t give my child a gender and they grow up and do have a gender and I’ve taken that? It’s a hard thing really but we all want to do what’s best and I will give my child a gender but always have them know that if that gender doesn’t feel right, then they can let me know and we can work together to change it and let them be who they want to be! I don’t believe in restricting my kids creativity and I always want them to stay true to who they are no matter what!
And, just like that, silence falls. Movement ceases. The bow refrains from its drawing across strings, muscles tightening and fingers pausing, Sherlock’s chest rising and falling in the same steady rhythm even though he’s not entirely sure how, when his heart is suddenly emitting bass notes louder than the treble he’d been weaving through the air just seconds prior.
His sharp, narrowed gaze falls on the hazy reflection in the window opposite him, and he waits.
He’s used to waiting, now.
“It’s quite a space of time, I know, but… well, I’ve been thinking about it.” John is slipping the coat from his shoulders, not looking towards the man silhouetted against the window with a violin perched on his shoulder as he shakes the rain from the somewhat soaked material and throws it unceremoniously to the floor. Sherlock observes, but makes no deductions. Now isn’t the time. “Because it’s five years ago today - did you know that? I know it’s not exactly the sort of anniversary you celebrate, your first suicide, but…”
Sherlock watches silently as John looks up and away from the coat, searches the misted window from afar until he meets Sherlock’s eyeline; it’s too far to read his expression, too dark, but Sherlock isn’t looking to find answers in such a frail attempt at eye-contact. That can wait, too.
After all, John is talking. And Sherlock owes John that.
“It’s quite funny, really - well, not funny. Doesn’t exactly make me want to laugh.”
Sherlock can’t quite tell from here, but he’s relatively certain that John’s hair is damp. He fights the instinct to grab the same towel he had recently used to dry his own ridiculous mop of hair and throw it at the doctor, because he’s quite confident that it’s the wrong moment. Perhaps in a minute. When John has finished.
“But that it’s today, of all days. Kind of coincidental, maybe.”
Slowly, Sherlock allows the hand holding the bow to fall to his side; he leaves the violin, though. It’s oddly comforting, settled against his shoulder, the weight of an old friend.
“It fits, though. I’ve had a few hours to think about it, plus, of course, the five years before all of this. Because I did think of it, which I’m sure you already know. Seeing as you know everything.”
He fights the urge to snort - clearly he doesn’t know everything. He didn’t know, for instance, that John would come home tonight. He had thought… well, it didn’t really matter what he had thought now. He’d been proven wrong, and not for the first time in recent days, so he had the sense to simply wait and see where it would take them.
Not that it made sense. Not when his fingers had started to tremble against the strings and his heart had started picking up speed to the point where he wondered if the sheer force of adrenaline had ever been known to kill a man.
The answer was probably in his Mind Palace somewhere. It could wait.
John was taking a few steps forward - soft steps, always soft, John didn’t know how soft he was but Sherlock did. For an ex-solider, he had always surprised Sherlock with quite how soft he was.
He stopped his progression after three and a half paces, lingering by his chair but not sitting.
Sherlock could just about make out the sudden clenching of John’s fists.
So. Sentiment was coming. He forces himself not to turn and face it head on. The adrenaline may think it knew best, but he was slowly learning to trust other instincts. Like the one that told him he wasn’t quite ready to face John.
John’s voice mirrors the softness of his approach. “I went to see my therapist after you died.” He pauses, the silence pressing intimately against the fact that Sherlock had in fact not died, but neither of them corrected the mistake. John had, after all, lived those two years of believing otherwise. It was a moot point. “And she… was… determined to make me talk about it. You know how, when you thought Irene Adler was dead, I kept pressing you? Trying to get you to talk about your feelings?”
Sherlock’s head jerks irritably to the side, not seeing how The Woman had anything to do with the conversation. She was nothing. This was… well. Considerably not nothing.
“Well, all right, not quite the same, but that’s sort of my point. Imagine someone trying to push you into talking about that loss, but then… multiply it by about ten thousand. And then again. And again.”
The ebb and flow of John’s breathing became shallow, uneven for a moment. It makes Sherlock want to turn around even more, nothing to do with adrenaline this time; he compromises, letting the arm wielding his violin to slide to his side instead. Preparing himself, though for what he wasn’t entirely sure.
“It might have been all right, if she’d just stuck to trying to walk me through the grief, the anger, but something… something made me say it. So bloody stupid, letting yourself actually be vulnerable in front of your therapist -” John’s laugh is throaty, full, amusement laced with something far deeper and far more painful to hear, “- but I said it.”
It. It. What was it?
Sherlock doesn’t realise he’s spoken aloud until he sees reflection-John fold his arms and shake his head; damn. He’d failed. This was John’s turn to speak.
And speak he does. “Bit of a stupid question, really, mate.” He clears his throat. “Sherlock. Though I suppose not really, considering I didn’t say what I was supposed to say, then and now. I just… insinuated. Like we do, you and I.”
You and I.
Sherlock clenches his fingers tight around the neck of his violin.
You and I.
“I said to her, after she managed to make me angry - she was good at that, passive-aggressively antagonising a response out of me. I probably don’t pay her enough.” Sherlock can hear the slight smile in John’s voice, relishes in it, relishes in the odd twist of normalcy in such an abnormal conversation. John’s never really spoken about this before, this determinedly hidden point in his life, and Sherlock knows its basis lays within a point the doctor has yet to make. The thought makes him tense up all over again, almost missing John’s next jumble of words. “I said to her… I told her…”
An intake of breath. A steadying of emotions.
“I told her that there were things… things I wanted…” Another intake of breath, this time sharper, and it takes everything that Sherlock has within him not to turn on his heel and stride over to John, get on his knees, gather the man’s hands within his own and command that he keep his words to himself, tell him that he doesn’t need to hear this if it causes John pain to say it. The ache to physically comfort the man standing behind him was suffocating. “There were things I wanted to say to you. Before. Before you jumped, before the phone call, before…”
John’s voice breaks, and Sherlock drops his violin - drops it, doesn’t care, doesn’t give one damn about the expensive piece of wood, nor the clattering it makes upon hitting the floor - and reaches out to support himself upon the window because otherwise he’s going to give in, otherwise he’s not going to allow John to finish his soliloquy and he’ll have failed him. He bows his head and he knows John will understand, will feel his sorrow and regret from across the room, because John always knows, and he only hopes his friend will be stronger than he currently is.
He hears the light footsteps approaching before he can even realise his hope is a foolish one. He doesn’t need to look around to know there’s a hand stretching out toward him, John reaching out –
“Don’t comfort me, I beg of you.”
When he speaks it’s raw, hoarse from restraining himself from speech - he’s sickened with himself, utterly full of loathing. John, spilling his emotions, and Sherlock, unable to control his own in the wake of them: weakness, such weakness, and now John - John, who should be comforted, not Sherlock - is reaching out to soothe him.
Sherlock reaches out behind him in a similar gesture, though it’s a request to stay away rather than to make contact.
“Forgive me, John. Don’t come any closer.”
John’s voice sounds far too similar to Sherlock’s own vulnerable timbre, and it squeezes deep inside of Sherlock’s chest to have such a tone so close to him. “Sherlock…?”
“You stand there, speaking of… loss, of grief, of immeasurable pain which I have yet to even come close to making up for and yet I’ve somehow manipulated you into believing that I’m the one who needs support. I repeat, don’t come any closer and - for the love of god - don’t try to comfort me.”
He can almost feel the strength of John’s battle, the fight to stop from ignoring Sherlock’s request, and he knows it with such inherent intimacy from his own longing that he feels a tremor rock through his body at the combined desire from them both: it’s agony. There is a reason, he now knows, why Mycroft had always been so vehemently against the concept of empathy and all of the dangers it posed within such close quarters, and Sherlock’s own personal reason is now poised on the edge of both touching him and moving away and he cannot stand it, will absolutely falter, will completely destroy the inward promise he made to himself to allow John to have his moment –
Sherlock feels his lips curve into a smile which is nothing to do with amusement. “I wish I could, John, but, no. I need a moment, if you wouldn’t mind.”
You need a moment? Didn’t you just berate yourself for not allowing John to have his?
John’s reply mirrors his own thoughts, though in such a way that was far more John-like and therefore infinitely harder to ignore. “Well, I need you to turn around. Look at me.”
Eyes drifting tightly shut, Sherlock bites his lower lip. Hard.
“Sherlock, look at me. Now.”
Damn it all. He’s using his ‘Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers’ voice, and that would be enough to shake any man’s resolve. Slowly, slow enough that he catches John’s reflection-gaze one last time in the now heavily condensated window, Sherlock pushes himself away from the glass and turns on the spot to finally - upon command - face John. Face the words he had spoken hours earlier. Face reality.
Face the elephant in the room.
John’s hand falls gently to his side. His eyes, despite the small smile playing on his lips, are guarded. “There. Was that so hard?”
Sherlock can feel his own defenses rising, yet he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want that at all. Not now. This is the wrong moment for defenses - every moment was the wrong moment for defenses with John Hamish Watson, and if he was to do nothing but this tonight, he would keep them down and away for the length of their communication. He must. He absolutely must.
And he must answer. Truthfully.
“You’ll have to be more specific.” Swallowing hard, Sherlock realises he’s still holding the bow in his right hand. Keeping his eyes fixed on John, he bends carefully at the knee and places it on the floor before straightening back to his full height and realigning himself to deliver his words properly. “Are you referring to me turning around, or… or perhaps…”
He can’t say it. Damn, damn, fuck, he can’t say it.
John reads this. Sherlock can see the quick processes of realisation flickering in the haze of blue within John’s eyes, and he marvels - possibly for the first time ever - at the rapidity of John’s understanding. Perhaps there were different sorts of genius, and John simply happened to be a different breed to Sherlock.
The thought of there being something which set them apart from one another sparks a thread of unwanted fear directly down his spine.
John seemingly has no fear now. His shoulders set themselves back, chin lifting in apparent confidence, though Sherlock isn’t entirely convinced. “Well, is there any point in beating around the bush anymore?”
Run. Run from this place and don’t look back.
Sherlock’s body poises instinctively for flight.
John doesn’t miss a thing. His eyes harden again and, with almost awe-inspiring authority, he takes a step forward and closes a rather large portion of the gap between them: Sherlock can feel, now, the body heat emanating from the smaller man and, within an instant, he feels the magnetic force between them flip - suddenly his chances of leaving the room have settled to zero, and whether he likes it or not, he knows that everything is about to change and that he won’t do a thing to stop it.
John reads this, too.
“Good. I didn’t want to have to wrestle you to the ground.”
Sherlock’s lips separate, a breath stolen from them without his permission. John, wrestling him to the ground. John, on top of him. John, initiating physical contact.
John’s voice slips through the sudden haze of combined panic and anticipation. “You said it first. So.”
The heat which Sherlock thought was coming from John seems to be coming from within himself now, caressing over his skin and making him tingle in a way he’s never experienced before; he barely suppresses the oxymoron of a shiver which is now determinedly making its way across his entire system, his hands beginning to tremble, eyes suddenly tearing themselves away from John’s iron-hot stare –
Clarity clicks; his gaze zeroes in on John’s lips.
John’s lips move.
Sherlock comes undone.
“I love you, too.”
John’s hands reaching forward, hesitating for just a moment before resting upon the solid plane of Sherlock’s chest.
Can he feel how hard my heart beats for him?
“And I’ve been waiting for the right time to say that…”
Sherlock’s eyes flicker down one final time to John’s lips.
“… for five fucking years.”
At which point Sherlock Holmes finally closes the distance between them and tentatively, bravely dips his head and brushes his dry, trembling lips to John Watson’s, heart pounding wildly beneath his chest as his kiss, his love, his ardent and unforgiving adoration is returned to him in the softest of pressures.
Summary: You knew the relationship was falling apart, you just couldn’t accept it.
“I’m sorry Y/N.” Yoongi whispered.
I looked at him in disbelief. The tears that were threatening to fall soon enough shamelessly came and for a second I thought I felt my heart actually break. Deep down, I wanted everything to be a joke, I wanted this to be some sort of sick prank. But looking at Yoongi’s face, I knew it was far from that.
“Why did you do it?” I asked looking down. He stayed quiet, not daring to look at me, and after what felt like hours he took a deep breath.
“I honestly don’t know Y/N,” he began “I wasn’t thinking at all.” I let out a sob.. Wasn’t thinking? What does he mean he wasn’t thinking? Is he meaning to tell me that I didn’t cross his mind not once?
“I-It was more than just sex with her Y/N, as much as she seems to be bitch to everyone she isn’t bad. I don’t know what to do. I already lost so much by doing this.” He added as he turned to look at me.
My heart shattered. The only thing worse than getting cheated on is, having the person who cheated on you not wanting to fix it. We were invincible. Since I was 15 I vowed to commit to him and overcome any obstacles that life threw at us. Every fight we had was resolved by the end of the day because we never went to sleep mad at each other. But now, years later I never thought anything would change. And to be honest.. I was too naive to think this would last forever. Yoongi always had eyes for me, he always thought about me before he made a decision. Looking into the eyes of the love of your life and not seeing a spark anymore is heartbreaking. To feel like I was not worth fighting for anymore made me feel worthless.
“I love you Y/N, I still want you around.” Yoongi said breaking me out of my thoughts. “Even if we’re not together you will always be mine.” he added. My body went numb, my mind went blank. I looked at him and smiled. “I’ll never leave Yoongi.”
The next couple weeks were gloomy. Even though Yoongi never stopped talking to me, every night always ended with an argument, which resulted in him blocking me and ignoring me until he felt like talking to me again. Meanwhile I was constantly surrounded by a dark cloud that didn’t leave. I barely got out bed. And when I did, I would find any reason to go back to my hole of self pity. I didn’t eat much anymore and only got a couple hours of sleep at night. Constant thoughts attacked my mind telling me I wasn’t good enough to keep him, that he was better off without me, that I needed him. And as crazy as it sounds, I wanted him back more than anything. I wanted to have another chance to show that I can be a better girlfriend to him, better than her. I never asked about her. I didn’t want to know anything about her. The one girl who managed to make him do this. And from what I heard she wasn’t with Yoongi because she liked him. Anyone can tell she was just using him, but he was too blind to see that. She had him wrapped around her little finger and still slept with any guy she wanted, while Yoongi pretended that he didn’t know. And that’s what killed me.
It was around 10:30pm when Yoongi called. I mentally cursed at myself for answering so quickly, “Hey,” I said. “Hey babygirl, just wanted to hear your voice.” I could feel my face turn red and softly smiled at his words. “I miss you.” I said. For the next two hours we were on the phone and for once I was happy.
“Are you free tomorrow?” I ask. As much as I wanted to give him space, I wanted to see him.
I hear him heavily sigh and I already knew what was coming. “I’m sorry Y/N, I want to see you as much as you do but-” he mumbled. My heart sank and a feeling of sadness came over me. “Yeah I get it, she means more to you than I ever did.” I replied. “Please don’t start Y/N we were talking just fine.” he said.
I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “News flash, I haven’t been fine since you chose her over me, you only knew her for a week.”
“STOP. Y/N goddammit don’t fucking start again.” He yelled out. I could hear his breathing increase and I knew him well enough to know he was pissed.
“Why are you doing this to me huh Yoongi? Was I that fucking horrible to you that you had to do this to me?” I cried. Again tears rolled down my face and I started sobbing.
“I’m not dealing with this tonight.” He said and hung up.
Fucking asshole. That’s what he’s good at, ignoring me and running away from his problems. I dialed his number again hoping he could pick up but soon realized he blocked my number. I began to panic knowing very well I wasn’t going to get any sleep tonight if he was ignoring me.
For the next hour I constantly called hoping he would unblock me but I had no luck. My sobbing increased and I began to feel suffocated in my apartment. I just wanted to run, I wanted to run until I couldn’t feel the pain anymore, I wanted to disappear. I knew I was pathetic doing this to myself. But I couldn’t help it, Min Yoongi destroyed me.
I couldn’t take being inside anymore and left my apartment to clear my head. It was almost midnight and although it wasn’t a good idea to be walking at this hour, I didn’t care. The night air made me shiver and I decided not to go very far considering it was cold. I walked to the gym right by my apartment and sat at the side of the building. I tried dialing Yoongi again, and sure enough he didn’t pick up. I put my phone back in my pocket and buried my face in my hands and cried. Why wasn’t I good enough for him anymore? Why am I still around for him begging him to come back when it’s not what he wants anymore? I was deeply in love with him to even think about moving on, and he knew that.
“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out this late crying.” A voice said, that made your head snap up.
My eyes met the face of a stranger, a very attractive stranger.
I quickly wiped my tears away and stood up backing away from him, “Ahh I’m sorry” I replied flustered.
He chuckled, “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” I smiled at him. “That’s good to hear, but what could you possibly be doing out here this late?” I asked sarcastically.
He motioned toward the gym “I work here, on my break.”
I looked at him confused. “Isn’t it too late to for a gym to be opened?” I replied.
“It’s opened 24/7, I work the night shifts.” He said. I nodded at him and sat back down.
“Now if you don’t mind me asking, why were you crying?” He asked.
I bit my lip and tried to come up with some random excuse. “Umm it’s just tha-” I started to say.
“Boyfriend troubles?” He blurted.
I chuckled, “Something like that.”
“Mind telling me about it?” He asked.
I looked away sighing. “Honestly.. I’m not ready to talk about it just yet, but long story short he cheated on me.. and somehow I can’t let him go.”
“By the looks of you crying it seems like he doesn’t want the same.” He said.
“It’s.. complicated.” I answered, “He chose her but he still wants me around.”
He looked at me, “I know I barely met you but you shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of still being there for him. You’re worth more than that.”
Tears began forming and I nodded. We both sat in silence for what felt like forever until he stood and offered his hand to help me up.
“I hate to leave you alone but I have to get back to work.” He sadly said.
“Right, sorry.” I mumbled and began to make my way home.
“Before you go, I didn’t get your name” He said
“Oh right, it’s Y/N.” I answered.
He smiled at me, “Y/N, the name suits you.”
I laughed, “Thanks?”
“I’m Jimin by the way”
It was around three days later when Yoongi texted you.
“I miss you Y/N, I’m sorry about everything.”
I stared at the text for the longest time and debated on replying or not. And about an hour later I gave in and replied. This was a cycle, he always apologized after ignoring me for days, knowing I would be waiting. Dammit why was I so weak when it came to him? It was like he had me under a spell and I couldn’t do anything about it.
“Can I come over right now?” another text read.
I answered a quick yes and made my way to the shower so I can look like I wasn’t miserable the past few weeks. About 30 minutes later he was at the door.
“Hey babygirl.” He said smiling.
I felt my cheeks getting hot “Hey Yoongi.” I said while leading him inside.
He took off his jacket and shoes and made himself comfortable.
I laughed to myself thinking back to memories when Yoongi would come over right after work tired and fall asleep on my bed. Or back to the first summer of us dating when he would be at my house and we would watch stupid reality TV shows, eating pizza, and enjoying each other’s company. Back when I was his everything, back when we were invincible. The older we got, the more I thought things were getting better. We were becoming more mature and we both knew what we wanted. A future together. I never expected months later for that to suddenly change.
I snapped back to reality when Yoongi cleared his throat. “Listen, I’m really sorry about-”
I stopped him, “No don’t worry about it, it was my fault.” I said quietly.
His face softened “No I shouldn’t have ignored you.”
“It’s fine..really.” I answered.
He forced a smile, “H-how have you been?” He asked.
“It doesn’t matter honestly-”
“It does matter Y/N, even if you don’t believe it, I care so much.” He stated.
I started biting my nails, it was a really bad habit of mine. But whenever I get nervous I don’t know what else to do.
“You’re nervous.” He said.
I looked up embarrassed “I-I’m sorry.”
He cupped my face in hands and looked me in the eyes, “It’s me Y/N, your Yoongi don’t be nervous around me.”
He crashed his lips into mine and before I could process what was happening, I realized I was kissing him back. He deepened the kiss and before I knew it I was reaching to take his shirt off.
He stopped me. “Do you want this as bad as I do?”
I nodded and continued kissing him and led him to my bedroom.
I woke up hours later to the sound of Yoongi’s phone ringing. I groaned and nudged him to wake up to answer the phone. To my surprise however, he declined it. I shot him a confused look, “Shouldn’t you answer her?”
He shook his head, “I just want to enjoy our time together right now.” I smiled and he wrapped me in his arms. As much as I hate the situation we’re in, being with him is the only thing that can make me happy.
“I want to try and end things with her.”
My head snapped up at his sudden words, “Do you really?” I asked.
“I don’t know what I’m doing Y/N, I want to make things right for us so bad.”
“Yoongi, you know what to do to fix this.” I said softly.
He stayed quiet for a long time. I didn’t care though, just the simple words he said made me see that maybe just maybe.. it was worth waiting around for him. The sleepless nights, endless crying, everything could finally stop.
“I’m going to see her soon and I promise that I will fight for us.”
“Forever and always right?” I said.
“Forever and always.”
The next couple of days were a breeze. I managed to catch up on sleep which I’ve been so badly. I went out with friends after canceling so many times when I was down. Yoongi and I were talking just like before. I was happy. I knew it was going to take some time for us to get back together and I was happy to wait as long as he fought for us. Although I was waiting for the message informing me that he finally left her, I didn’t want to seem like I was pressuring him.
I was laying on my couch catching up on shows I’ve missed while eating ice cream, when I got a text from Namjoon asking to hang out. I smiled at myself and instantly replied telling him yes. My heart dropped suddenly remembering how much I have been shutting him out ever since this happened. Namjoon worked in the music industry and was extremely busy but he always made time for his best friend. We grew up together and he was always the one person I went to when I needed someone. Namjoon always acted like an older brother to me, a very overprotective brother I must add. When I first started dating Yoongi you can bet he didn’t approve, but as time passed he eventually accepted him. I instantly felt a wave of guilt realizing I hadn’t even told him about what happened between Yoongi and I. He knew me well enough to know that there’s something wrong just by the look on my face. I debated with myself on calling him and telling him that something came up, but I knew that would only make it worse- I never canceled on Namjoon, no matter how busy I was. Even though I wanted to avoid talking about it, I knew I had to tell my best friend. I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard my phone buzz besides me.
“Let’s go to dinner then? Usual place :)” the text read. I laughed to myself knowing that no matter how more successful he got, he still loved our tradition of going out for a greasy slice of pizza and a beer. I sent a quick reply and dashed to the shower to start getting ready. “Goodness Y/N what are you going to tell Namjoon?” I thought to myself. I knew I couldn’t keep this from him, he would only blame himself saying he wasn’t there enough. I quickly put together an outfit and applied makeup to look a bit more alive. Thirty minutes later, I was finally ready and out the door to my car. Well…it’s now or never.
I got to our favorite pizza place and ordered food for the both of us. Namjoon was always late, even if it was something really important. Ever since we were kids he had a habit of showing up late. I didn’t mind though and took our food to an empty table. I occupied myself with my phone and it wasn’t until 15 minutes later that he finally got here. “Y/N I’m so glad to see you!” Namjoon happily says. My face lights up and I immediately give him the biggest hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long!” I say as we both sit down, “I know I’m so sorry I’ve been so busy.” He replies with a slight frown on his face. I shot him a look, “Don’t worry, I understand just don’t forget about your best friend.”
“Never will” He says while taking a bite of his food. I smiled and started eating, “So how’s work been?” “Tiring, busy, you name it.. I don’t care much since I’m doing something I love.” He happily replied.
“I’m proud of you and I’m so glad to hear that.” I say while taking a sip of my soda.
For the next hour we talked about memories when we were younger and catching up with each other. I completely forgot about what has been going on with me since I was so happy being with my best friend. That is, until the dreaded question came.
“So how are things going with Yoongi?” He curiously asked. My face instantly dropped and I frowned. “F-Fine, we are doing fine.” I quietly answered.
Namjoon raised his eyebrow at me and scanned my face long and hard, “You’re not telling me the truth.” He stated. I didn’t answer him and instead looked down and started biting my nails.
“You’re nervous Y/N what’s wrong?” At this point I felt the tears forming in my eyes and I felt like I was going to barf all the food I had just ate. I didn’t want to tell him, but at the same time I did. My heart was racing and my head felt like it was going to explode.
“Y/N what the hell happened?” He asked again. I sighed, “I just… we broke up but we’re trying to work things out.”
“Why did you guys break up?” He quickly asked.
“I don’t know.” I lied. I gulped hoping he would believe me but I knew there was no way he would. If I told him what Yoongi did, Namjoon would not let me anywhere close to him.
“Don’t lie to me Y/N.” I could tell he was losing patience.
“Namjoon-” I began.
“He cheated on me.” I murmured avoiding to meet his gaze.
Silence. For a while there was just silence. I refused to look up and say anything else. I was embarrassed, scared, I felt pathetic.
My head shot up when I heard Namjoon chuckle. I looked at him confused not knowing what to say, I met his eyes and boy was he pissed.
“You’re telling me that you’re willing to make things work with him again?” He rhetorically asked.
“I know you’re upset and I don’t blame you for it, but I’m willing to stay until he leaves her.” I mumbled.
His eyes widened and his face turned red, “LEAVES HER? You mean he left you for some girl? And you’re still around?” He started yelling.
Tears started falling down my face “Please don’t be upset.” I choked out.
He snorted, “Upset? Nope. I’m furious. It’s taking everything I have not to leave right now and kill that bastard.”
“No Y/N, I am not going to let you sit there and stick around until he decides to fucking value you. You deserve to find happiness and all he is doing is causing you pain.” I didn’t say anything and instead stayed quiet. He stood up and led me out the restaurant. “Let’s get you home.”
I nodded and followed him out, the cold air hit me as soon as we got out the door and I immediately regretted not bringing a sweater with me. I looked down on my phone and I saw missed calls from Yoongi. I bit my lip in confusion considering he never calls me. I decided I’d get back to him once I got home.
We made it to my car and I looked up at my best friend. Disappointment was written all over his face and I took a deep breath.
“Can we please talk tomorrow Y/N? I need to make sure you’re okay.”
“Of course. I’m sorry for ruining our night.”
He gave me a sympathetic look, “Stop, I haven’t been around much and I’m sorry for that. I promise I’ll be there more regardless of my job. I need to protect my best friend.”
I smiled at him, “Love you Joonie, get home safe?”
“Text me once you’re home alright?” He added while opening my car door.
“I will,” I said while giving him the biggest hug.
As soon as I stepped into my apartment I dialed Yoongi before doing anything else. To my surprise he didn’t answer and I frowned. I quickly sent him a text and got ready for bed. As I was just about to close my eyes, my phone rang. Groaning, I reached over and picked up without even checking who it was.
“Hello?” I groggily say.
“Y/N are you up?” The other person said and I instantly knew the voice.
“I was just about to fall asleep Yoongi, but what’s up?” I replied.
He sighed, “Can we talk?”
I frowned at the sound of his voice, “uh sure.”
“I’ll be at your place in 10 minutes.” And with that, he hung up.
Before I knew it there was knocking on the door and I immediately got up to open the door.
Yoongi looked tired, saddened, and just… different. He awkwardly walked in with his head down and I knew something was wrong. My stomach dropped, “What’s wrong Yoongi?” I whispered and reached out to hold his hand. He flinched and pulled back without looking up at me.
He let out a deep breath, “I’m sorry Y/N.”
And that’s when my world came crashing down again.
The sound of rain against my window helped distract me from my endless thoughts of pure emptiness. I continued to play with the food that I didn’t even bother to eat and sat in silence.
It had been weeks that I had a decent meal, much less smiled. I debated many times calling Namjoon, but I always fought against that thinking he was too busy. He checked in a couple times over text but I was good at feeding him lies on how I was okay. Although he was my best friend, I just didn’t want to burden him again.
The day Yoongi came, I knew he changed his mind about coming back to me. He still texted though, and I knew that I was hurting myself way more by still sticking around. Soon enough text messages came almost once a week and I could tell he was distancing himself. What made things worse was that he flaunted his new relationship on social media, and that hurt more than anything. Yoongi was never one to brag about someone, unless the person meant a lot to him.
I was laying on my bed after coming home from a night with my friends and I was happy considering I haven’t felt this alive for about three months. I tried my best to shut the thought of him out of my head and I did what I thought was best… move on. I constantly told myself that nothing will bring me back to how I was when I was so low and needed to be strong. I was getting ready for bed and I checked my phone one last time before I decided to sleep.
And that was a big mistake. My heart dropped as I paused on a post Yoongi had uploaded of them together. I felt my throat close and tears well up in my eyes, fuck. Why the hell does this shit affect me so much? Before I knew it I was sobbing and all the feelings I was trying to avoid came rushing back. Without thinking I threw some shoes on and ran out my front door not caring how loud I slammed it. I was halfway down the street when I realized I forgot my phone and I sighed. I quickly figured I didn’t need it and continued walking. I eventually made it to the spot next to the gym I always came too and sat down breathing in the cool air. My mind began to wander and my thoughts were interrupted by a cough next to me. I shot my head up and met Jimin’s face. “Haven’t seen you in awhile.” He says. “Almost thought you got back with him.” He added. I looked away not responding, it’s almost pathetic how bad I wish that was what happened.
I heard him awkwardly sit next to me and from the corner of my eye I can see he was thinking on what to say next.
“Please don’t feel sorry for me” I mumble while trying to blink the tears forming in my eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked.
“Honestly? No. I don’t. I want everything to be okay with us, I want things to be how they were back then. I want him to be happy with just me.” I admitted. “Do you know how stupid I feel? How pitiful I look?”
“You’re not stupid for wanting that, you have every right to feel all these emotions. But Y/N please don’t let him have so much control over you. He’s not worth it.” He grabbed my face and made me look at him, “Please Y/N.” He pulled me in for a hug and just as I was about to answer him a deep voice beat me to it.
“What the hell is going on?”
I panicked quickly getting up and moving away from Jimin. “Yoongi?” I practically yelled.
author’s note: ahhh i really hope you guys liked it! I am not confident in my writing yet but i’m getting there! i wrote this after my relationship fell apart, and although I’m still getting over it, writing makes me feel so much better.