Summary: You learn that the cute barista youâve been crushing on might have anâŚotherworldly disposition after you accidentally cut yourself.
A college, coffee shop, and vampire AU all in one!
Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, and anything in between
A/N: This is the longest oneshot Iâve ever written. I found this vampire!yoongi fic sitting in my WIPS back at the start of the year. I did my best to pick it up and rewrite the story into something interesting.
Hopefully you guys like it.
In your opinion, college is a fairly safe space. You go to classes, get along well with friends, enjoy sitting near the pond in the middle of your campus when the weather is nice. There are rarely any crimesâand when there are, itâs a stolen bike, a petty fight, or anâŚâattackâ.
Hell, sometimes they arenât even acknowledged. Not everyone chooses to believe in folkloreâthat vampires are real and walking among us.
Some people are disbelievers because theyâre too scared to give into the reality that every day they might be around someone who could pin them down and steal their blood in a split second. Others justâŚthink itâs a hoaxâthe few and far between vampire attacks, that is.
âThose people just want attention. They can fake fang marks like that with special effects make-up.â
Society seems to be torn on their existenceâjust as some people refute the existence of ghosts or spirits, or even god and higher powers. You for oneâwellâŚyou believe. At a younger age, in an event youâll never forgetâyou had fallen off a swing at the park and gouged open your knee on the turf. In what seemed like a flash a shadow had appeared above youâa man looking to be in his late 20âs to early 30âs. When you glanced up he had knelt downâhis eyes meeting your curious and slightly frightened stare. His eyes were crimson, and it had seemed as if his irises were pulsing withâŚ.withâŚ
âYou need to be more careful,â he had told you, his Adamâs apple bobbing heavily against his throat. He hadnât bothered to help you up, instead stepping backâ fingers trembling near his sides. âYou canât afford to get hurt around others if you keep smelling like that.â
And then he was gone. But despite his disappearance, his words stuck with youâlingered in the back of your mind for daysâweeks, even.
What do I smell like? You had wondered, but had never bothered to search for the answer. Anytime you pondered potentially pricking your finger or making a harmless little cut, immediately those crimson eyes popped into your mind, and you found yourself weak at the kneesâunable to follow through.
Years later, youâve nearly forgotten about that man at the parkâthose deep red eyes and resounding words. Youâre a college studentâyouâve got papers to write, tests to take, applications to fill outâyou donât have time to worry about things such as ghosts, or higher powers, or vampires. As if. The only thing on your mind is class and the coffee you get every morning to help you through the day.
Also the cute, yet bored faced barista at the campus coffee shop you seem to face nearly 7 days a week, regardless of the time you leave to get your coffee. Heâs charming in his own rightâdark hair, styled a little lazily, and dressed in casual clothing that perfectly accentuates his body. Heâs minimal effort good-looking, and you canât believe how much youâre attracted to him sometimes.
âMorning,â you greet with a smile when you step up to the register, the line advancing forward. He doesnât bother to look up, already hitting buttons on the screen in front of him and reaching to grab a cup to write your name on.
âUsual, right?â he asks in a low voice, sounding groggy, and you stare at the top of his head as he bends to grab a marker that had fallen on the floor.
âTired?â you respond instead. He grunts.
You hum in understanding as you watch him press the marker to the cup, however, instead of writing your name, with sloppy handwriting he ends up scribbling his own, and you break into a fit of giggles.
Cocking an eyebrow, the male glances up at you.
âWow, suddenly our names are quite similar,â you say, pointing at the cup, and when he sees the permanent black Yoongi written he curses.
âFuck, Iâll get you a new oneâ,â he begins apologetically, but you cut him off.
âNo! Itâs ok, itâs just a cup and you already know me, so itâs no big deal,â you laugh, smiling at him. He pauses.
âYeah, just draw a little heart next to it to make it cute and I think Iâll be fine,â you tease, and while Yoongi rolls his eyes, he canât help the small smirk that comes to his face.
âI make no promises with that heart. Go ahead and swipe your card.â
Nodding, you do, and once the charge goes through you walk to the other end of the counter to wait, knowing by now that Yoongi will simply take your receipt and throw it away, since neither of you want it.
As you wait for your drink to be made, you pull your phone out and scroll through your twitter feed, trying to catch up on all the latest news and gossip before you run off to class. However, your finger only manages to swipe upward a few times before thereâs a gasp behind you, and you turn to find a girl staring in horror at her phone which has just landed face down on the tile floor.
âOh no,â you say, highly sympathetic as you squat down and gently pick the phone up since sheâs clearly too petrified to do it herself. You peek at it, tilting the screen your way, and the hiss that escapes your lips is enough to let the girl know that sheâll be needing a new phone sometime soon.
âShit, the glass,â you mumble as you return the phone to her, managing to mirror her thankful, albeit disappointed smile. She says that sheâll clean the glass up since it was her fault, but you tell her that youâve got it, and reach over to grab a napkin.
âDonât touch it, Y/N. Weâll clean it up,â you hear Yoongiâs voice command from the background, almost warning you to not do anything stupid, but you wave him off. Youâll be fine, itâs just a little glass.
So, putting the napkin next to the tiny shards, you gently use the side of your hand to brush the pieces onto the napkin. In the background Yoongi calls your name to get your drink, and then immediately sighs when he sees you bent down, trying to macgyver glass onto a napkin like a cave man.
âYouâre dumb,â he grumbles as you stand up, turning to face him with the napkin full of glass in your palm.
âHey, it worked didnât it?â you grin triumphantly, but just as you transfer the napkin to Yoongi to be disposed of, a piece of glass tears through the thin layers of paper and scrapes your skin.
âOw, fuck,â you curse, examining the damage as Yoongi hurriedly takes the glass from you and tosses it into the waste bin. You hold your palm out, fingers lightly pressing at the cutâred seeping at the edgesâbut before you can move to find something to clean yourself up, Yoongiâs hands are embracing your hurt one.
âYoongi?â you say in surprise, watching as his thumbs brush against your palm, pressing down slightly on either side of the scrape. At the action more blood appears, and you glance up at him in shock.
