#I am really hoping we can get her masters title but if she's ever not into the game anymore we are outtie

[tea-time-terrier]

Horrifying experience: Someone assumed I was serious about the sport of Rally Obedience 🙃

Babes, if I am serious about anything it's giving my dog snacks! We are doing rally as a joke!! We are training for masters hilariously!!!

[mothguillotine]

I Definitely Just Got Attacked By A Werewolf

CW: the reader gets attacked in this (given the title) but other than that it's just whats in the show already. hope you guys enjoy!

On a late walk in October is where you first meet. The fall crispness had let up one night when you decided to go out. The stars, which were usually quite dim due to the city lights, lit up the night sky with the full moon. The park you were in was secluded enough that it was nearly impossible to hear the cars driving by and the other various noises of the city, it was peaceful.

Until it wasn't. All you heard before you were attacked was a bush rustling and then you were on the ground. You push yourself up and realize that you are bleeding profusely from your stomach.

"HELP!" you yell, "HELP ME PLEASE!"

but you know no one is coming. As you try your hardest to run towards the roads outside the park another sound comes from behind you. When you turn you see a beast, hair covering the entirety of it's body and at least two feet taller than yourself. For a second all you could do was stare at the creature until you finally scream.

It lunges at you and you are able to nearly escape it's claws. You fall to the ground yet again and you know that your life is over. The scratches on your stomach are bleeding more than before and your shirt is turning extremely red. The beast is standing over you at this point, you assume to finish what it's started.

You quickly close your eyes, not wanting to see your doom. But before it can attack, you hear it get thrown. While you want to open your eyes to see what is happening they are just much too heavy, actually everything is heavy.

"Is this how it feels to die?" you wonder.

"Oh you poor precious stupid baby," you hear someone say, "did you get attacked by this beast?"

You try to respond to their question but all that comes out is an unintelligible noise. They move to get closer to you and lift your shirt up to peer at your wounds.

"My love, she is bound to die." another voice says.

"What if we turn her?" the first voice asks, "look at how beautiful she is, I am sure Nandor wouldn't complain."

"uhhhh, yeah that's how I got vampired if you will." you say towards the camera, "mostly everyone has been welcoming. Nadja wants to hang out, like a lot. She likes dressing me up in outfits and honestly, I can't complain. It's fun. Laszlo wants to constantly play me his music so I listen. He's honestly not half bad, but my favorite is when he and Nadja sing together. Well, singing isn't exactly the right word but performing is." You smile to yourself thinking about the song that they had performed last night, which had been suspiciously similar to one of Elvis's songs.

"Colin has tried his hardest to feed off me but after dealing with stupid men for my human life he honestly can't really annoy me much. After many unsuccessful attempts he gave up and sort of just… I don't know. Doesn't anymore. Maybe my confusion over this is feeding him?" you say mostly towards yourself, but what you can't see is the cameras zooming in on Colin standing in the doorway with bright blue eyes. "Anyways moving on, Guillermo was a much tougher nut to crack. He definitely didn't like me when I first got here, that was obvious. But after living here for a few days I understood why he was hurt so badly. After 12 years of service and multiple promises that you would become a vampire you would be pretty upset if they kept turning other people instead of you. I decided to sort of extend an olive branch to Guillermo and I promised him I would turn him myself if it got to that point." You think for a second about what to say next. The only other person you haven't talked about is Nandor.

"Guillermo's master on the other hand is impossible to crack. I honestly don't know if Nandor just doesn't like me much or what but he hasn't ever really talked to me." you continue to tell the camera and crew that are intently listening to you.

The first time you had met Nandor was a few days after Nadja and Laszlo found you in the park. You had just completed your incredibly painful change into a vampire and you all decided to go out to eat. The process left you feeling less than amazing and when you definitely felt like that reflected to your exterior. So when you finally leave your newly appointed room you run directly into Nandor.

"I'm sorry." you tell him looking up realizing just how massive he is.

"It's fine." he says and brushes past you quickly, you wonder why he is speeding away so fast but chose not to think about it anymore.

Later that night, after feeding on your first human, you and Nadja sit on the couch while she braids your hair up into a complex bun while Laszlo sits at the piano playing a soft melody. You feel much better after eating for the first time in nearly a week and you look much better too. You look less sickly and back to normal.

Previously Nadja had come in during your transition to give you company and told you all about the new vampires you would be living with. She told you stories set in the past, hundreds of years before you were born. She asks you about yourself as well, where you come from, what do you enjoy doing, if you are interested in having a threesome with her and her husband, and to be honest the last one throws you for a loop.

Nadja laughs as if she made a joke but honestly you don't think she is really joking. She tells you all about how she will make you the most pretty vampire.

When Nadja is finished with your braid you both walk over to the piano.

"Laszlo?" she asks, capturing the attention of her husband, "What do you think?"

"My darling, it is beautiful. A work of art." he says when Nandor walks in.

"Nandor, what do you think?" she asks him, you both turn to look at him.

"Pretty." he says simply and leaves the room just as quickly as he entered it.

You are honestly confused about Nandor, it feels like he wants to avoid you at all costs but you literally have barely spoken to him. You go to sit back on the sofa and miss the knowing looks that the couple gives each other. ___________________________________________________

Getting used to sleeping in a coffin was difficult. The first few nights were rough being trapped inside until it was nighttime, the feeling like you were going to run out of air (which makes no sense because you can't even breathe anymore), and of course the silence. Before you would sleep with a fan on and now that it's so quiet it's impossible to sleep.

You end up listening to music which turns out to be a horrible idea because your best friend sees that you are online right away, Oscar.

Oscar: um wtf where have you been? Oscar: are u okay? no one has heard from you for like a week? Oscar: is this about kelsey? Oscar: hello?!

You choose to forego any texting and call him instead.

"Oh my god!" he exclaims as soon as he picks up, which of course is not a pleasant thing to hear, "You are alive?!"

"I'm sorry,” you tell him, “I have been busy and shit the last week.”

“You missed all of your classes. What is wrong?” he asks you, “You just disappeared after the party on Friday and Ness said you haven't been back to the dorm?”

“Listen Oscar it's not a big deal,” you tell him, “I just needed to get away from Kelsey and shit.”

“I know that she hurt you but you can’t keep avoiding everyone because of her,” he tells you, “Jesus, we have all been worried about you.”

The burning of the words makes you cry out in pain when he says them and it alerts him right away that something is very wrong with you.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” he asks you, “You sound like you are in pain. Are you okay?”

“Listen Oscar, it's fine, I'm fine.” you tell him thinking for a second, “I just stubbed my toe.”

“I am having a very hard time believing you.” he tells you matter of factly, “Where are you? I am coming over.”

“NO!” you yell, as much as you miss Oscar it's definitely not a good idea to bring a human around a bunch of vampires when you haven't had a chance to introduce them yet, “Oscar, I will come and see you tonight. How about that?”

“Listen, I am really worried about you right now.” he tells you and you know he is being serious.

“Oscar I promise that I will tell you everything tonight, I just… it's a lot to say on the phone.” you say.

“You promise?” he asks.

“Yeah. I promise.” ___________________________________________________

A few hours later you are getting ready to leave to meet up with Oscar when you are approached by Guillermo.

“Where are you going?” he asks you.

“I am just going to meet one of my friends,” you tell him, “He has been freaking out since last week and I am kinda worried he will call the police if I don’t go see him.”

“Are you sure that's a good idea?” Guillermo asks, “Newly turned vampires don't always have the best control.”

“I wouldn’t hurt Oscar.” you tell him, a little offended that he would think you capable of something like that.

“I just want to make sure you don't accidentally do something that you regret,” he tells you, “If you hurt Oscar would you be able to forgive yourself?”

“No, you are right,” you tell him, “But, I do know someone who could protect someone from a potential vampire attack.”

Guillremo huffs but says “I’ll come with you to make sure you don't kill him.”

“Thank you!” you tell him, hugging him tightly, “I’ll get the rest of my things and we can go! Can you call a taxi? I would feel bad about you going by yourself if I flew.”

When you go back upstairs to grab your jacket and phone you miss Nandor and Guillermo’s conversation.

“Where are you going, Guillermo?” he asks, standing right behind his familiar/bodyguard.

“Master! You startled me.” Guillermo says to the vampire, “We are going out to meet her friend, Oscar. She wanted to tell him that she was okay.”

“Who is this Oscar?” he asks Guillermo.

“I don’t know, Master. I can tell you when I get back.” he promises and Nandor saunters off as soon as you re-enter the room. You of course notice that he has yet again left when you get there. It's kind of frustrating, you have no idea what you did to make Nandor want to avoid you so much. In the last week you have said a total of like five words to him. Most of which have been greets he hasn't returned.

When you and Guillermo leave the house a taxi is waiting on you both. The drive over to Oscar's apartment is about ten minutes away and when you get there you text him. By the time Oscar gets down to let you in you and Guillermo are both waiting at the door, as well as the entire camera crew that follows you all everywhere.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asks you, “Disappearing for a week and not responding to anyone? Are you having a manic episode?”

“No, Oscar I promise I am fine,” you tell him, remaining on the porch until he invites you in, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah, of course you can,” he says, “Who is this and why are you filming?”

“Oh this is Guillermo and you can just ignore the cameras,” you tell him, “We really need to talk.” ___________________________________________________

“Telling Oscar that I am a vampire was, well, difficult. Guillermo was super supportive and well I definitely needed it.” you say toward the camera. “He didn't take it very well,”

At first Oscar had not believed you, which you had assumed he wouldn't. After explaining how you were attacked by a werewolf and that Nadja had saved you from death he still didn't believe you, even after seeing the large claw marks, which would definitely not heal in a week, he still didn't. So you decided that your only course of action would be to turn into a bat and that definitely freaked him out.

“He’s gonna be staying with us until we know he's not gonna tell anyone.” you explain “That's why Oscar is passed out on the sofa.” The camera moves to zoom in on him.

“He’s my best friend,” you tell the crew, “He was super amazing during my last breakup.” The crew motions for you to continue to talk.

“Me and Kelsey dated for five months until she broke up with me a few weeks ago. Oscar would come over and we would watch movies and eat food.” you say, “Last weekend Oscar finally convinced me to go out to a party and who do I see making out with one of my friends from high school, Kelsey. Anyways after that I left and that was the fateful night in the park.”

“If something happened to Oscar I honestly have no idea what I would do. So that includes accidentally getting himself thrown into a psych-ward for claiming vampires are real.” you lament, “I love him so much, he’s my best friend.” ___________________________________________________

Nandor had been avoiding you, but not for the reason you think he is. As soon as he saw you he knew he would definitely fall for you. Given his track record with relationships the best idea he had was to just avoid you much as possible. He also saw how much you meant to Nadja and Lazla, he didn't want to scare you off then ruin your relationships with the couple. When he had first learned that a new vampire had been brought home he wasn't super excited, but when you ran into each other after you left your room he knew he was screwed.

Never had he seen such beauty as yours. Staying away from you was the best option possible and well that didn't work out very well. Nandor had also overheard your conversation with Guillermo, assuming that Oscar was worried about you because he was your lover. What he didn’t know though was that Oscar definitely was not interested in you, his type leaning much more towards Nandor himself. Nandor is sat in the camera's view and the team gives him the signal to start speaking.

“The new vampire has taken my familiar from me. She has taken him to meet up with someone named Os-car." he says, "Could Os-car be dangerous? I do not know, but what I do know is that I can not let someone with the peasant name, Os-car, hurt her. Nadja and Laszlo would be very… disappointed."

A few minutes later Nandor is peering through the window of Oscar's apartment watching you, to ensure that you are safe. He can also hear your conversation inside with Oscar. He listens as you explain what happened to you and Nandor sees when Oscar doesn't believe you. He also watches as you hike your shirt up to show Oscar the scars from your attack.

When you do lift your shirt Nandor sees how messed up by the werewolf you truly were. Last week, when Nadja and Laszlo had brought you back to the house, Nandor had been told what exactly transpired in the park and he hadn't believed them when they explained how brutally attacked you were, until now. Seeing the scars on your torso had made him upset, so upset in fact that he swears right then he will exact revenge for you. And of course he tells this to the cameras.

"I have now seen her scars and I swear on the 35 wives I used to love that I will get revenge for her. Unfortunately I have no idea where to start." he says to the camera, "I shall search all of Staten Island until I find the beast that inflicted such pain on her." What Nandor doesn't see as he talks to the camera is you carrying Oscar to a taxi. ___________________________________________________

Later that night when you are getting ready for bed Oscar wakes up. Of course he is understandably upset when he comes to.

"You fucking kidnapped me?! What the fuck?!" he asks you, yelling quite loudly.

"Shut the fuck up," you whisper to him and take a seat on the sofa, "I brought you back here because I was worried that you wouldn't exactly be chill about this and honestly you are proving me right."

"Oh yes because kidnapping someone is such a good idea." he says sarcastically, "Why the fuck did you take me here?!"

"Listen, Oscar, I just wanted a little bit more time to explain everything." you tell him and he sits down on the chair across from you, "I know that kidnapping-"

You stop when you hear your name called by the door by none other than a Nandor.

"Are you okay?" he asks you, "I heard some yelling and wanted to check in."

He turns his head to look down the hallway and quickly looks back at you. What you are unable to see is Nadja and Laszlo giving him thumbs up from the doorway of the neighboring room.

"Yeah, Nandor, I'm fine." you tell him sincerely, "Thank you."

"Yes, of course." he says and leaves the doorway to come further into the room and joins you on the sofa, "You have yet to introduce us."

"um… Oscar, this is Nandor the Relentless. Nandor, this is Oscar Garcia." you introduce.

"Os-car it's very nice to meet you," he says, "How did you meet?"

"Oscar has been my best friend since high school, we had a class together our freshman year." you explain.

"What is a 'freshman year'?" he asks, "Why are the men fresh?"

"Master, it's a term for the first year of school when you are in high school or college." Guillermo explains to him.

"Did I ask you Guillermo? No." he says to his familiar, "I asked her."

"It's just what the first year of school is called for high school and college." you repeat essentially what Guillermo just said but Nandor seems much more interested in what you are saying for some reason.

"Yeah, I just said that," Guillermo says under his breath.

"What was that Guillermo?" Nandor asks.

"Nothing, Master." he says.

"Anyways me and Oscar have been friends for about nine years now." you tell him, "Almost a decade."

"That's crazy," Oscar says thinking about the past decade, "She really helped support me when I came out to my family and was kicked out."

"You came out? What is that?" he asks.

"Well Master, it's when-" Guillermo is cut short by Nandor yelling at him.

"I did not ask Guillermo!" he yells furiously.

"It's when you tell people you are part of the LGBT community." you tell him.

"When I came out, my family disowned me." he tells Nandor.

"The LGBT?" he asks, "What is that?"

The next half hour is Nandor asking questions to Oscar. It honestly kind of surprises you how well they get along. This is also the first time that you have heard Nandor speak for this long and honestly he is hilarious. Most of the time he doesn't even realize he says something and it makes him confused on what you are laughing at.

"So why did you bring Os-car here?" Nandor asks you.

"He was worried about me and well when I went to meet him he kinda freaked out about the whole vampire thing." you tell him, "So I took him back here after Guillermo knocked him out."

"Wait, you knocked me out?" Oscar asks.

"That's not important right now," Nandor says, "Why didn't you just hypnotize him?"

"Well I- I didn't think about it," you say, "but anyways I don't want to hypnotize him. I just wanted to make sure he understood."

"Well thanks, that means a lot," Oscar says sarcastically, "I'm so happy you decided to knock me out instead of hypnotizing me."

"Oscar it's not like that," you tell him but he stands up and makes his way out of the room, "Oscar!" He continues to ignore you and leaves the house.

<Previous Part/Next Part>

Masterlist

[cativiascorner]

Let’s talk about EP 7’s Title: Dreams and Madness

I firmly believe the original intent of the titling is a tie to both Baylan & Shin. Master & Apprentice. It trickles down to Ahsoka & Sabine as well but I’ll get to that later. MAYBE ILL EVEN GET INTO HOW IT TIES THRAWN AND MORGAN ELSBETH TOO anyway:

Baylan has gone mad, over this dream of his, this ancient power. He pulls unexpected moves this ep and straight up ABANDONS Shin. Seeing as he mentioned he literally raised her: To have acted in this manner, all on a unknown (to them) planet in an unknown galaxy, he’s lost it. You wouldn’t leave someone that you RAISED, and KNOW isn’t ready for events to come. He is acting on whims of a faraway dream that is unfortunately likely going to be his undoing. At the expense of Shin? We��ve yet to see and I fear for it.

Moving onto Shin’s relationship with the title: Shin can clearly be seen nearly taking Ahsoka’s offered help. She literally took a step toward her hand, looking really, really weary. Poor babygirl. To her, the idea of working with them is a Mad Dream. It’s mad because all she’s ever known is Baylan’s teachings (as far as we’re aware. He raised her in the wilds from what lines we got.) and it’s dream because it’s so out of her realm of potentials. But she didn’t expect to lose her master who was chasing his OWN mad dream. Fuck.

At this point it may seem clear the thought path I follow but I’d like to talk about the other two pairs briefly.

Ahsoka: Her dream is finding Sabine. It can also be seen as her dream to help Shin. (Sobbing don’t mind me) The madness is the path that lies ahead. Taking on Thrawn. Or perhaps she finds it mad to have found Ezra after all these years. Ow.

Sabine: Do i really need to explain these ones?????? Dreams: Ezra. Shin. (Gayass.) Becoming a Jedi. Madness: How she got to Ezra, what she has yet to tell him, etc. That’s quite a long list if I start thinking about it critically…

And bonus rounds!

Thrawn: Thrawns dreams of course are to leave this forsaken galaxy and begin reforming the imperial remnants. You know, the ones Senator BitchassXiorno says “dOeSn’T eXiSt.” I sincerely hope he sees the err of his ways. Don’t fuck with Hera Syndulla. Anyway, his madness is also the same as his dream. With a the very real possibility of Sabine and Shin forming a temporary at minimum alliance..( maybe, just maybe, a really scary powerful Baylan) his plans could quickly be turned to ruin. But he’s ready for that so I am eager to see how this plays out. But fighting this fight would be one of madness. He is overextended and TIRED. He wants his Sheer force back so he can emit his extreme tactical prowess. He literally has an UNDEAD ARMY. FROM MAGIC. IF THAT ISNT MAD I DONT KNOW WHAT IS.

Morgan Elsbeth: Her dreams are smaller and more centric, as pointed out by Thrawn. She dreams to crush any presence of the Rebels immediately and without hesitation. We also haven’t gotten that deep into this characters psyche but I really think a deep part of her has a good reason for being so frequently valuable to the core plan. She’s quite intimidating, and I think they’ve been slowly prepping her for something even more grand than her construction of the warp ring. The night mothers, of course. Not Thrawn himself. Madness, could also be tied in with prior reasoning. Many would think her mad purely based off the fact she’s a Nightsister in the first place.

That was a lot more than I thought I was gonna write that was fun. I hope my rambling has some coherence!

[harrowharkwife]

ill go with sex pal :P but if that's already done, gideon :)

HIIIIII!!!!!!! hi friend!!!!!

favorite thing about them: PALAMEDESSSSSS my boy palamedes. my little guy. man, okay, what do i love about him. i love the way he loves. i am fascinated by his clumsy and imperfect and well-meaning but inherently flawed attempts/approaches to things like agency and ethics and fairness and respect. i love that he pays attention to everything. i love his drive. i love his gambling streak, his tendency to play the odds. i love that he's a boy who writes love letters™. i love how open he is about his affections and his feelings. i love his penchant for using terms of endearment. his love for teaching. his willingness to get up on a soapbox for things he believes in, even if he winds up stumbling sidelong into insufferable preachy condescension half the time. i love that he tries. i love that he sometimes fucks up and hurts the people around him. i love his boldness. i love his sweetness. i love his kindness. that boy could make friends with a brick wall if you gave him enough time. i love that he canonically writes weird erotica to cope. i love his taste in women. i love his gender. i just love him

least favorite thing about them: i mean, i could go on forever. he's deeply annoying sometimes, and as much as it's part of his charm, it also makes me want to thwap him upside the head from time to time, like. boy. shut UP!!! but the real answer is honestly his position as sixth house scion. master warden is an unspeakably rancid title in vibes alone and i sincerely hope we dig into the backstory behind that a little more in AtN. i find it fascinating, and troubling, and tragic, and frustrating, all the ways in which he talks the talk re: cavaliers and agency and free will, but when the rubber meets the road, do his actions really back that up? arguably, not always. and the guilt and complicity and codependent toxicity there re: camilla, is like catnip to me. he loves her, he respects her, she's his best friend, he's in awe of her and her abilities and her strength. and yet, time and time again, he puts her through harrowing things and thanks her each time she shoulders his burdens. it's a self-fulfilling prophecy, it makes me so sad, it's a snake eating its own tail, it is a mobius strip of toxic power imbalance codependent enmeshment and it is FASCINATING to think about. if i keep going we'll be here all night, but just. i think fandom has a tendency to write him as The Good Person™ (him and Camilla both) and, like, i love him as much as the next girl, but he's a head of state in an empire, with all the implications that brings with it.

favorite line: "how god takes, and takes, and takes." "fool us twice, shame on god." "thank god for that mad, stubborn, lovely girl." "it's not you, it's me wearing you." (moira quirk's inflection on that line is literally fucking haunting, btw.) "do you know, i miss harrowhark terribly." "and, most personally, this is for dulcinea septimus." god. i just love him

brOTP: harrow, and also gideon.

OTP: im shy <3

nOTP: im struggling to think of a pal pairing that i Couldn't find compelling or at least interesting, if written the right way, in the right light. he's just my interesting little guy. he's a barbie and im making him scissor all the other barbies. who said that

random headcanon: glasses chain. earrings. palamedes can have she/her pronouns, every now and then, as a treat. contrary to the initial assumption of everyone he's ever met, he's actually Not autistic. (cam is; he's just got wicked bad adhd.) jewamedes is also fun

unpopular opinion: i mean i guess just what i said up top re: people sometimes acting like he's never done anything wrong in his life? i love him but i love him Because he is an interesting and deeply morally gray (ha) character.

song i associate with them: what you can't look up by walk the moon, tiny moves by bleachers, to someone from a warm climate by hozier, chateau lobby #4 in c for two virgins by father john misty, shiver shiver by walk the moon, star by mitski, hopedrunk everasking by caroline polachek, GAMBLER'S PRAYER BY CAROLINE POLACHEK my ultimate palamedes song

favorite picture of them: ive tattooed every single piece of palamedes art ive ever seen on the inside of my eyelids. except white palamedes fanart which is always such a jumpscare

[avaisnerdytoo]

RICK AND MORTY SEASON 7 FINALE

*I TYPED THIS WHEN IT CAME OUT AND NEVER POSTED IT CAUSE PERFECTIONISM IM SORRY BUT IT'S KINDA COOL ALTHOUGH ITS BEEN LOW KEY SAID ALREADY

Read Chapter Titles for Easy navigation:

There is a lot to unpack, I want to cover some character insights, some connections to philosophical concepts I found neat, and some implications I feel the show gives regarding future seasons!

I'll write a lot, so I recommend reading the chapter titles to see if something catches your eye, I understand why you may be less interested in reading a whole thing.

Let's jump in.

BRIEF INTRODUCTION:

This has the foundations to be one of my favorite episodes they have ever made. It is like a therapy session made an episode.

I feel this single-handedly pays for the lack of Morty we saw in other sections of the season.

I think even with most of it being a simulation, the episode still has a lot to say about other characters too. Even if it was all through Morty.

Nevertheless I won't drop the fact that this is an episode of Morty, where his mind, his feelings, and his unconscious are the narrators, which means that the way it speaks of Rick may not be quite accurate, but I'll get there*

Cause I do think the writers are still consistent with Rick for a good portion*

MORTY'S DEFENSIVE LAYERS: short chapter

Dr. Wong once pointed out that the whole Smith family uses rationality to avoid emotion (a fact I sometimes really identify with btw), and this is best shown here, where the layers of Morty's ability to resist the simulation and to place protective barriers over what he feels, is a lot stronger than we realize.

You coooould argue that's simply the way the hole works, but I personally interpreted it as more...

I think we are being told that Morty has also learned (if not mastered) the ability to build the same protective walls as the rest of the family, however his ability to defeat the simulation is also not to be understated, especially if only like 3 people have survived it in years.

RICK AND DIANE (WHAT IS A REAL DIANE LIKE?): Short to Medium Chapter*

It is made clear that this representation of their relationship is not to be taken at face value, but I somewhat doubt the writers are interested in truly making Diane a part of the show. I hope I am proven wrong, but if I assume this is one of the very few instances of her we will see, then I am willing to take a leap and assume some of what we saw, could make sense within their relationship.

Diane was shown as fun, decisive, adventurous and challenging, to me, she showed a lot of Summer traits, which fits right in line with Rick's observations of her.

On the opposite end, I do think there is a big layer of Morty's own bias regarding how he'd assume someone capable of keeping up with Rick's style of character should be, and with the rest of the episode in mind, it is of no surprise he followed them across the main montage.

I feel Diane was an enabler to Rick, I doubt young Rick could be described as pathetic though, more like responsible. And Diane would probably be as well, but I do see a scenario where someone that grabs Rick's attention and respect has the resourcefulness of Summer and the courage to jump into action.

MORTY IS ALONE ALONE, A-FREAKING-LONE + an observation for Evil Morty* Long Chapter*

We know this already of course, Morty is a kid neglected by his parents pretty much, not out of malice but out of immaturity and naivety. The bond between Summer and Morty is good, and has improved, but I do not think there is a world (nor there should be), where Summer should take care of Morty more than how a sister can. (In another dimension bro would be a strong candidate to get Fairly Odd Parents)

This evidently leaves Rick as the only figure in his life with any room to provide protection, love, advice and all the things adults should do.

Which is a very shitty deal... Because Rick is far from equipped at any of these.

His experience, even in the crazy sci-fi multiverse he lives in feels very real, I consider Morty as the most complex character, and he was designed from the start to be the closest thing we -as the audience - can have to a surrogate.

It hurts to see him so adrift, of realizing day by day that there are a lot of challenges he will have to conquer alone, we know he can, but it doesn't mean it is nice to have to do so. (I may be half projecting here though cause I big time identified with him here).

It is clear Morty is really holding back to the scary world out there, he wants Rick to protect him, he wants to be looked after, he wants what we all do, to be loved and heard. Acceptance is necessary for growth, and at this moment, it is clear Morty believes no one will be there for him. (Hopefully that is proven wrong but more of that below).

I think I may now understand what Evil Morty argued when he sympathized with Rick over achieving his goal of ending Rick Prime, and still feeling unsatisfied. (that's a theory*).

MORTY'S PERCEPTION OF RICK

+ the struggles of adapting to a changing family member or friend

+ will it have an impact on the next Season?

Long chapter

Actions speak louder than words, but words matter too, and when those necessary actions come sparingly, expecting anything from the person who's bringing you conflict becomes harder.

That's the best way I can describe how Morty feels about Rick, I'm sure he values that time in Season 2 when Rick sacrificed himself for him, but there are also hundreds of variations of that event where Rick belittled Morty, and that has pretty much been the pattern since then, there are objectively worse things Rick has done than good ones...

It's unfortunate this is all Morty has, he clearly genuinely loves Rick, but I feel this episode, if followed upon through the Canon is a big eye opening for Morty.

This whole episode was a therapy session, like any process, it has to be explored through analysis, brought to the conscious mind, and peeled slowly across the stages of grief...

...

Actually, this episode was more like an Ayahuasca Trip, because it surfaced key aspects of Morty's psyche and feelings, but it only did that, unlike therapy which would keep exploring them to find how to coexist/diffuse.

There is soooo much left on the table, and the worst part is that I think this realization is incompatible with who Rick is becoming, which is reallyyyy unfortunate timing.

But completely understandable, and arguably real, on Morty's part, I feel they are being set up to be on distinct emotional paths which WILL require Rick to take more direct action.

If the idea that your closest family member can shatter the illusion of reality by saying that which you want to hear... Fuuuuck

If you ever watched Lucifer (the TV Show) there's a similar moment there that reminds me to this 🤔

SIMULATION THEORY MADE FUNNY, BUT STILL VEEEERY REAL

not character exploration just a comment on the episode

As a small comment one of my favorite tropes explored in the episode is the whole looped, "Are we out of the hole yet?", because that is the very foundation of the paradox of simulation theory, they technically explored it back in Season one, but the weight of it felt more significant here.

If you're told you live in a simulation, and then given the option to escape, all Matrix style, you don't become Neo, you instead become eternally unaware of when you're in the real world, you aren't shown the truth, it shatters your perceptions completely.

It's not that kind of show of course, but imagine the weight of experiencing, in this case, growing up, going to college, possibly losing a family member (with the worrying lack of Jerry in those scenes), getting a job, forming a life that is ripped away...

I love the running gag at this point of this occurring... The Roy Game, The Vat Of Acid Episode, The Beth and Space Beth Lesbian Simulator (my fav), and now this.

Only this one is given that weight though, even Morty begins to wonder whether he was just outright born there...

---

NO WAY I WAS DONE ALL THIS TIME

I'm sorry I didn't post this when I typed it, I had more ideas and I wanted more photos but I maxed out what I could use and my perfectionism got the better of me.

Hope there is still something here for you all 🥺🥺🥺😖

[warrioreowynofrohan]

For the fanfic director’s cut: ⭐️⭐️⭐️

YAY thank you!! Do I get to take this as three sections? I’m gonna take it as three sections.

The first one isn’t really a section, it’s the title of The Castaway, which I kept expecting/wanting to be asked about but never was. I finished the fic without having yet thought of a title and this one came to me as a melded reference to a combination of Calvinism, Cowper, and Victor Hugo (combined with the imagery fitting well with Maglor spending millennia wandering the shoreline).

The word “castaway” is connected to the Calvinist concept of predestination, referring to a person predestined to damnation; it shows up in a fair amount of 1800s English literature, including the Brontës. It's also the inspiration for Cowper’s poem of the same name (people may recognize from the 1995 Sense and Sensibility, where Edward’s emotionless reading of it frustrates Marianne).

Obscurest night involved the sky, The Atlantic billows roared, When such a destined wretch as I Washed headlong from on board Of friends, of hope, of all bereft, His floating home for ever left....

No voice divide the storm allayed, No light propitious shone, When, snatched from all effectual aid, We perished, each alone: But I beneath a rougher sea, And whelmed in deeper gulfs than he.

There's a scene of remarkably similar imagery in Les Misérables, as a symbolic evocation of society casting off the convict.

A man overboard! What matters it! the ship does not stop,. The wind is blowing, that dark ship must keep on her destined course. She passes away... He implores the blue vault, the waves, the rocks; all are deaf. He supplicates the tempest; the imperturbable tempest obeys only the infinite. Around him are darkness, storm, solitude, wild and unconscious tumult, the ceaseless tumbling of the fierce waters; within him, horror and exhaustion. Beneath him the engulfing abyss. No resting place.... The sea is the inexorable night into which the penal law casts its victims.

This all exists in the context of the abundance of Christian hymns that describe salvation as being saved from shipwreck:

I was sinking deep in sin, far from the peaceful shore Very deeply stained within, sinking to rise no more But the master of the sea heard my despairing cry From the waters lifted me, now safe am I! Love lifted me, love lifted me When nothing else could help, love lifted me Love lifted me, love lifted me When nothing else could help, love lifted me!

So, all of that came together to feel like suitable symbolic associations for a fic that is oriented around the question of at what point, if ever, a person can be considered irredeemable, and about the nature of grace and of hope.

For a second one, I'm going to pick the end of Raised by Wolves. This is in one sense kind of the opposite of the The Castaway, in that it ends with Elrond not forgiving Maglor; but that's not exactly it.

The entirety of Raised by Wolves is about Elrond working through his complex and conflicting feelings about Maglor and his upbringing; the way that Maglor separated him from his family and, by his very care and fostering, alienated him from being part of the culture that he truly identifies with, that of the Sindar.

The issue is not one of Elrond being too angry with Maglor to forgive. The issue is that that forgiveness would need to come from Maglor being willing to hear and understand and acknowledge Elrond's emotions and pain in all their complexity, and let that conversation be about Elrond's feelings, not his own. And Maglor's not willing/able to do that; he's still focused on his own feelings and his own guilt.

Maglor's formed his own idea of what he would hear from Elrond. And because he's not willing to open himself up to that conversation, he doesn't find out that he's not going to hear that, and that instead he would have heard something that was painful in an entirely different way. Elrond's sentiments about the mix of good and bad in that fosterage involve very different things than Maglor's, things that Maglor has never considered. Maglor's guilt is centred on the obvious - that he killed nearly everyone Elrond knew, separated him from his family, and made his life far more dangerous. The idea that raising him as a Noldor - something Maglor couldn't help doing, as it permeates everything he knows - was a wrong, and that is something it's harder for Elrond to deal and forgive with than the more obvious wrongs, is something that hasn't even occurred to him. Having that conversation is something that would be good for both Elrond and Maglor, but one of Maglor's basic personality flaws is conflict-avoidance, and he can't bring himself to open himself up to it.

For a third one - this is going to be more of a confession. Gnawing Itself In Bitterness is the first fic I ever wrote, and is very short (less than a thousand words), about Fëanor in halls of Mandos brooding on how everything is everyone else's fault (the Valar, Fingolfin, Maedhros...). It basically evokes why I have trouble imagining Fëanor ever leaving the Halls - not because he's been sentenced to never leave, but because he's stuck in a resentful, self-deceptive spiral that will never acknowledge he could have been wrong.

It's also pretty much taken directly from C.S. Lewis' The Last Divorce, something I didn't realize until years later when I reread the book and noticed with a shock that I had echoed Lewis' depiction of Napoleon Bonaparte in the afterlife so closely (at least, in that the fic started and ended with "It was all the fault of the Valar..." and continued in that tone throughout) that that must have been my subconscious inspiration:

"What was he doing?" "Walking up and down - up and down all the time - left-right, left-right - never stopping for a moment. The two chaps watched him for about a year and he never rested. And muttering to himself all the time. "It was Soult's fault. It was Ney's fault. It was Josephine's fault. It was the fault of the Russians. It was the fault of the English." Like that all the time. Never stopped for a moment."

Thank you so much for this opportunity to ramble about my stuff! <3

[write-and-wander]

Touch: Epilogue

Pairing:  Kylo Ren x Fem!Reader

Warnings:  Non-canon AU

Word count:  1K

Author’s note: As much as I loved the ending of the last chapter, I can't resist a little epilogue to show where I imagine things would go in my version of the sequels.

(Part 1)

(Part 2)

(Part 3)

(Part 4)

(Part 5)

(Part 6)

(Part 7)

Epilogue: Future's Path

“General Kenobi?”  You hear Poe call out to you.

“Be there in five!” you call back, looking back down to your journal.  It’s been a while since your last entry, and you just wanted to finish recording things before The Path Forward’s first meeting for Project Rebuild.  With a deep breath, you think back on all that has transpired since the Final Victory.

The first order of business was to repair what had been broken.  For the Path- which, at the time, was still the Resistance- that meant tending to the wreckage of the bases we had built in the past.  They settled on rebuilding in D’Qar as, for most of those who stayed after the Victory, it felt like home.  Though many people left the Resistance after that final battle was won, feeling satisfied with having achieved what they had set out to accomplish, some still remained, determining that the work was not yet finished.  Those that stayed reached out to those that left and other allies to raise funds and gather supplies, and while the Resistance itself was gone, the spirit of working together to make the galaxy a better place yet remained.  We all had managed to gather enough not just to rebuild the base we once had, but to also improve upon it with the hope that future generations would be using this place to continue to strive for better.  In fact, reconstruction and renovation just came to completion- hence the meeting I’m about to attend.

General Dameron seamlessly took over the Path after the Victory.  Those of us who joined prior to Leia’s passing knew that it was exactly what she would have wanted- and seeing him lead now confirmed that it was for good reason.  He really was the perfect choice for the head of the organization.  Poe, having grown up with the group and being- well, himself- made for a natural leader.  While some members, new and old alike, still disagree with the risks he’s willing to take, it’s hard to argue against his decisions when they always seem to work out.  I don’t want to discount his natural talents, but I also believe that none of it would be possible without the force’s favor over him.  Regardless, he really is the best we’ve got.

General Storm would agree with me- and, being as force sensitive as he is, I trust his word (admittedly, sometimes more than I trust my own).  Finn’s wisdom is unparalleled, and his bravery and even head makes for a perfect counterpart to General Dameron.  I’m still getting used to calling him General Storm; it was the last name he had taken for himself while Ben, Poe, and I were working out logistics for the Path.  We were shocked when it was the first name he offered for himself, being a reference to his time with the First Order as a Stormtrooper.  However, he said it best himself: “It’s who I am.  It can always mean something new.”  It was a short deliberation, then, on how we would be referring to Finn upon his promotion to General: ‘Storm’ it was.  Shortly after, Rey took the same sort of inspiration, having found out the truth of her past- though, there was no concern about a proper title, as she would not be stepping up into any sort of leadership for the Path.

Now make no mistake, Rey was still working in a close alliance with the Path- which I believe is at least in part due to General Storm.  Instead, she had also taken on her own mantle moving forward.  She had kept both Luke and Leia’s sabers, as well as some of the ancient Jedi texts- which, I just recently learned, were otherwise turned to ash on Ahch-To by Jedi Master Yoda; meaning that the ever-resourceful scavenger managed to recover some before the fiery incident.  With those few relics, she determined that the Jedi tradition should not so easily die.  She decided to try again what Luke had failed to do in his lifetime- rebuild the Jedi Order.  While we disagreed with her decision, we’ve also decided to respect it; with the caveat that the Path would be keeping a close eye on her new Order.  Understanding the hesitation and wanting to be held accountable for the sake of the galaxy’s security moving forward, she easily accepted the conditions.

General Solo- my beloved Ben- took a similar path for himself.  While he was more invested in the Path than Rey was- enough to be given a proper title and position- he also still pursued more, taking the last words of his uncle to heart.  Actually, it’s a project we’ve both been working on for a while now.  We want to forge a new future; to pave a new path for those who are strong with the force.  It will be a way of balance, where the dark cannot exist without the light, both in the galaxy and within ourselves.  We hope to honor our ancestors with the work we do- and, having taken advantage of the presence of their force ghosts to seek out guidance from them, we can confidently say that we’re off to a good start.  Together, we began to teach new, young force-wielders what true balance and harmony with the force might look like, and how one can harness the power within that.

Finally, both sides of the force are intertwined into one, just as intended; and to think it all began when the light first touched the darkness.

You jump at the sound of the door opening, but relax when you see Ben walking in.

“If you show up any later, they might think you’re nervous,” he teases.

“Nervous?” you scoff, “Never.”

Ben laughs.  “The journal can wait, my light,” he says with a kiss to your temple. You stand.

“There’s just so much to record, I wanted to at least start-”

“Will you two stop making out in here?” Poe butts in, “We’ve got a project to start.”

You laugh and give Ben a kiss.  “Okay,” you say, taking a deep breath.

Ben grabs your hand.  “Together?”

You nod as you both follow Poe to the meeting room.  “Together.”

[ryololart]

After the War

Summary: Evanegline teaching at Quantico years after the ending of MWIII

Warnings: Mentions of gore and slight sexual topics if you squint real hard.

Notes: I wrote eight pages on a google doc in two hours because I have barely written anything in months.

I hate teaching. I always have, always will. All the eyes on me in the room like vultures staring from overhead, just waiting for a scrap of meat to fall out my mouth in hope for enrichment. Don’t these kids know I can’t help them?

Price told me this would be good for me. To get out of the house, out of the garage, back in front of people. I wish he knew who was wrong. I was meant to sit there for the rest of my days and sell fixed up cars on Facebook marketplace. Letting my uniform and metals get dusty in the closet. However, according to him, that won’t do. When I left to get on a plane to fly out to Virginia I had to set my profile on hiatus and the messages that flooded my inbox all were in a panic. Where are you going? Sell this to me before you leave? How much for the Rav? I’ll give you 1,000 pound and come get it if you sell me it before you go. My buyers need me, not some snooty rich Quantico recruits. 

These kids need a teacher and I’m barely half a person. Laswell, a friend of his from the C.I.A. apparently personally asked me to come. According to her, my experience in the field and my grit would shape these recruits up. The class itself was about anti-terrorism and who better at the head of it other than one of the two remaining survivors of SAS Team-141. The most famous anti-terrorist team to ever exist says the internet. They make me wear a badge on my jacket with my affiliations and having the skull, wings, and daggers sitting right on my shoulder surely has brought enough unwanted attention in the two days I have been here.  So many gasps and sighs, enough to think this was a porn film. 

All the students are in their uniforms, here at Quantico they are forced to wear black trousers and a tan blazer. They tried to fit me for one, but I waved them off. I told them I wear military pants and a sweatshirt and  nothing more or nothing less. This wasn’t to be different, but I do not need to abide by these standards when I am the one doing a favor here. A boy sits in the front, a few crooked teeth, jet black hair that has been gelled back, and a nasty look in his eyes. His notebook and papers still sit in his bag, unwilling to bring them out until he sees it is fit.  A few rows back and to the right sits a girl with short ginger hair, freckles framing her cheeks, and bright blue eyes. A pen is poised in her hand and she looks at me with almost an alarm in her eyes. These are two kinds of people in this world, those who are passer-byers, ones that are willing to find their way when it comes to them, and those who are willing to grit their teeth and crawl on their hands and knees to get what they want. I found that I have been both of those people and the difference between them is something finite. 

“Hello,” I stand in front of the desk that has been pushed to the front of the room. “My name is Captain Evangeline Thomas, please do not call me that, just Captain or Thomas is fine. I will be clear now, I was asked to teach as a favor to a dear friend of mine. I do not know how I can be of most use to you so please, tell me as we go.” I lean back against my desk, the clinking of the braces on my leg makes me shudder, even so many years later.

“You are really, The Evangeline Thomas? The one on SAS Team-141, the sergeant master?” The ginger girl says out into the open air of the classroom. I can feel the words hit me like glass, clawing its way down my throat and restricting it, closing and pulling shut. I have to cough for fear that the oxygen will soon run out. 

“Yes, I was. I, however, do not hold that title anymore,” So much for introductions. “Why don’t we go around the room and just say our names and ranks. If I am going to teach you I wanna know your names.”

It takes five minutes for the class of twenty to go around and say those basic things. A few stumble on their words or have to ask what we are doing and I nearly throw the yard stick at the front of the class at them. The kid in the front row’s name is Connell, and the girl’s name is Diana. I don’t know why these two kids stick in my head, maybe it is the way she is chewing her gum so aggressively or the way he keeps his stare at the floor. 

“Right so, Laswell wanted me to give a few lectures on anti-terrorism. However, I have never been the academic type. So, how about I give you a few stories and we dissect them,” I move to the board, the short distance between the desk and chalkboard makes me have to plan my steps carefully. “We want to know three things when it comes to cases like this. What is the act of terrorism? How do we stop it? How do we prevent it from happening again?” The chalk skates across the dark green and I forgot how my writing looks like chicken scratch. 

“You know just how to make it look like it could be readable but when you get a good glance it goes right back to scribbles.” His voice echoes in my head like it always does and suddenly the ring on my finger starts to itch again. 

“What happened to your legs dude?” A voice breaks out as I finish the last question mark. His eyes find mine and I notice they are almost orangey-brown, like the dirt in morocco. His notebook has moved from his bag to his desk but it remains under open. The question itself does not surprise me, that is something everyone asks. Over the years I have found silly ways to answer, since technically, it is classified. I told Price’s daughter when she was old enough to ask if it was a bear attack and that I won. Ethan and Lukas were told that I was working on a plane and it blew up in front of me. I suck in a breath before answering, almost being able to taste the gunpowder and blood on my tongue again. Smell the charred flesh and feel the  bits of plastic melting into my skin. Acknowledge it.. Let it flow down the stream. I give a small smile before responding. 

“I got caught by a pack of C4 under a table on a mission to track down the worst Russian-terrorist in history,” I write down Operation Kingfish. “Our first mission we are looking at Operation Kingfish. Does anyone have any clue what this is or is too classified and buried underneath the books.”

A boy in the back of the class raises his hand, he has thick black glasses, shaggy brown hair, and his blazer isn’t buttoned and creased on every inch. “I have been working on cleaning the database of missions, specifically on anti-terrorism. Operation Kingfish was the mission where Team-141 thought they knew where Vladimir Makarov was hiding out.”

“Good,” I wrote Makarov, “What is your name kid?”

“Tyler.”

“Know anything else?” I ask.

“The date was October 8th, 2013, otherwise no.” He says, I hear the slight lisp on his th’s.

“Ight, pay attention cause I ain’t telling this story twice,” I pull the chair from behind that desk that squeaks in protest across the room right in front of the first row. “Take notes if you want, I ain’t assigning no work or nothing. I have no stake in your education, so what you get from this class is up to you. What I am about to say is heavy so don’t be wussing, you hear me?” 

I begin the story and swallow all the resentment for myself. This moment is surrounded by black tar that bubbles and threatens to pull me down head under. I haven’t spoken of this moment since I wrote the report so many years ago, but Cindy, Price’s therapist of a wife, tells me it's good to talk about it. That I have to, or else the tar will drown me. This entire memory feels like a snake bite, it hurts fast and quick and then the ache sets in. 

“As our darling Diana told us at the beginning of the class, I was the sergeant master of the team, meaning for those who aren’t military here, I was the main technician. However, I didn’t just work on our equipment or vehicles. When we had missions like this that were high-stakes, trying to capture the literal head terrorist of our war, all of us were on deck. I also was in the office when we planned it. General Shepard hadn’t betrayed us yet and he would frequently ask me as one of the only American’s on the team for my thoughts on the plan. I would suggest different weapons or carriers. This mission took place in the Karkonosze mountains, located in Ukraine. The elevation and where the base was located needed a specific plane to fly overhead.  Specter 6-4, an AC-130 Gunship is the reason the boys and I got out of these that day. There was not enough cover even with a Delta sniper. He told me he wanted me on the ground if I wasn’t flying the plane. So there I was in combat after a while of being over watch or comms. It was I, Captain John Price, Sergeant John MacTavish who we called Soap. Lieutenant Simon Riley called Ghost, and my boy sergeant Gary Sanderson AKA Roach. Sandman and Frost, two other members of the Delta team, were back up waiting for us. This would be the first of the battles with Makarov himself and changed the course of history.”

I stop and look out into the room, I had gained all the eyes on me at this point. I said the names of the most famous soldiers in the world as if they were nothing. Price, Soap, Roach, Sandman, Frost, and Ghost. Soldiers who were beloved and regarded as heroes. All of them died, other than Price and I. However, Connell’s notebook still sat closed.

“What was your name in the field, Captain?” A girl from the second row asks me. She reminds me of someone I knew and I have to blink before I speak again. She had tanned skin and long black hair braided into a bun. Moles cover her face and arms like constellations and if I didn’t recall her name as Mary I would have called her Liana, my best friend growing up from home. Liana is dead and so is Marcus, her brother. 

“It was Tex,” I narrowed my eyes. “I was called an EMT as a joke when I worked at my first base in southern Texas. When I moved to England and joined the team they renamed me Tex for Texas. Soap said EMT was stupid and I never corrected him.” 

I can hear Soap’s brittle voice with his stupid accent say my name. “Evan, you let them call you EMT? That’s crazy bonnie, you are surely too tough for that. We’ll call you Texas from now on, Tex really.” His laugh was contagious and for someone I had only known for a few hours, he made me laugh harder than anyone before. 

“Tex, I like it.” A warm hand brushes a hair out of my face as I stand before him in the cover of the front door. Even if we are standing before our house, the moment itself: with his hand on my cheek and me on my tiptoes, stealing a kiss from his lips made me feel something I had never felt before. Home. 

I shake my head and continue, the memory fading just as quickly as it came over. “The day couldn’t have been planned better, the weather, the timing, everything. According to reports we had gathered for months, Makarov had been hiding there. God, when we got there ourselves his shit was everywhere. As you can tell where this was going he wasn’t actually there and the entire mission was a bust, yet we did get something out of it. Intel and a folder, all information he had forgotten that kept his trail alive. This is where we knew his real plans for the war, not just the ones that were clear with the start of WW3. No, nothing would prepare me for seeing the knife on the wall holding a picture of my team and X’s threw the faces we had lost. To this day I can tell you every member of that team, how they died, where they died, when they died, and who I had to send their dog tags back to. He had planned to kill every single one of us with detailed notes on who we were. My folder had information about myself I didn’t even know. My fucking deadbeat father’s middle name was on that shit. In anti-terrorism, a lot of the time they wipe our traces clear. No record of our existence. No birth certificate, social security numbers, ID’s, god even my pilot’s license. Everything is highly classified and protected or down right removed. This corner is tricky business as any information on you will be used against you, and most of the time those people are dangerous to a new level. These aren’t your typical war criminals. These are seasoned killers, cyber-hackers, and experts in weapons you couldn’t name in your dizziest daydreams. The room where this information was, was deep in the base. It took going down so many hallways and rooms, we were tired and the fear was heightened. Scepter 6-4 was raining down bomb after bomb and after so many flashbangs my head was pounding. We all were not right when we got in that room and saw the record of our friends' deaths being tracked, no one was looking out for a pack of c4 under a table. Price called the bomb too late. I had always had bad hearing and should have never been in the field. I worked on planes and different kinds of loud machinery that damaged my hearing and I could never have  heard the beeping of the timer. If he hadn’t called it, I would not be standing here. I managed to push off my feet towards the door but it was too late. The damage was done.” 

I stopped and noticed that everything was silent. In the first part of the story, people were whispering quietly or tapping their pens. Now, everything has ceased. Not a single person made a sound. I sigh and slip the coffee from my bag out and take a sip. I found that coffee was better than Adderall, the high of caffeine was smoother than a straight stimulant. Cindy made me go clean, and said I would never meet Thalia if I didn’t. Price and her kid is my entire world and I couldn’t imagine not being in it. So, I quit the drugs and became a babysitter. A weird turn of events for sure. My man always told me he wanted to make me a mom someday and  I told him if he ever fucks me and we aren’t on some form of birth control, I’d chop his small British dick off. He never brought it up again. 

“So, the gorey details now. My legs almost got blown clear off. The initial explosion shattered my left leg and the right leg collapsed under pressure from the right one not standing up well. I won’t go into everything as it even makes me uncomfortable.” Even talking about it, remembering the white flash of pain, makes the nauseous come back. “They say breaking your femur is the worst pain, and as someone who broke two, I can confirm. Soap hit his noggin pretty hard but otherwise I took the brunt of the hit. Luckily for me, 141 was my family, literally. One of the members was my husband and the rest were basically my blood brothers. Even when I couldn’t recognize their faces because every bit of sense I had was being overclocked by pain, Gary carried me out so that the rest of the team could shoot our way through the lines of soldiers coming to finish the job. If he hadn’t carried me out, I would have died on that floor, still moaning from the pain, unable to even conceptualize a scream.” 

In that second I can’t bring myself to continue. Seeing their faces in my mind, Johnny, Gary, Simon, makes the world around me swirl. Nothing can stop the grief from filling my body. It is as the atoms that make me up decided they can’t bond anymore and want to separate. Pulling me in all different directions, slumping me to the floor. The familiar feeling of pain overrides my public embarrassment to be in this class. These stories shouldn’t be told in a classroom, no, they should be shared around friends and family at a bar table. Remembering those who brought us here, that makes this world livable. Everyday I wake up and I see their photo framed on my nightstand. I say good morning to them, each one by name, and I start my day. These were real people, ones I loved, and they should not be examined by those who will analyze every move they made. They should be cherished by the ones who knew them, for everything they did right.

“Thank you.” Connell says, the words catching me off balance. His notebook is open now, and my story is jotted down in simple lines, but only the ones that detailed a circled name at the top. Roach. The anger that was in his eyes is now plain admiration. Not for me, for those I tell in my words. Then I know why I know his eyes, they are the same as Gary’s. I knew him, he was the little boy who received Gary’s burnt dog tags. I look at the name tag on his blazer which was perfectly ironed and set, Connell Sanderson. 

“I don’t personally remember the rest of the story,” Feel it and let it pass, the sweet voice sings in my head. “The record says that in the attempt to escape with Delta right with us, due to our gunship being shot down, Price stayed behind to make sure we got to the evac helicopter. His sacrifice let me keep what was left of my legs. He was in a Russian Gulag for three years until we rescued him, even though we thought he was Makarov. He was asserted K.I.A. the day we lost him and I remember waking up in my hospital bed and seeing my best friend and my husband crying together for him. Those boys don’t even cry when they lose a finger, no, but the loss of our Captain brought them to hiccupping sobs. The moral of this story is that being a part of this, takes everything from you. Your identity, your friends and family, your life. Personal honor does not justify any of this, most joined not out of pride, but out of duty. I joined the military to pay for my brothers’ educations and to get out of the hell that is the border of Mexico and Texas. I stayed in the military because I saw what I had to lose and I joined in the fight to protect it. I lost so much, but you find meaning again. That is the nature of us humans. Simon Riley and Gary Sanderson were lost in 2016 when General Shepherd betrayed us. Simon was my husband and Gary was one of the men I was closest with. He was Simon’s best man at our wedding and often stayed with us when we had breaks since he didn’t have a house in England.  I lost John MacTavish only months later to Makarov himself, he was my best friend. He stayed with me when Simon got deployed without me and taught me every drinking game I know. Only John Price and I remain for the team of over twenty. What I leave you with today, is know what you are walking into as we go over these cases. They only get worse from here, this is just one of hundreds of missions I was on. Next class we look at the beginning of the end, be ready.” 

I leave the class still sitting in these seats and an email in my inbox. 

SAS. OUTLOOK.GOV

From: Kate.Laswell@CIA.GOV To: Evangeline.Thomas@SAS.GOV  Subject: Regarding Class

Thomas, I don’t know what you said, or what you did. I don’t care, don't tell me, just show up everyday for the rest of the semester and I’ll make sure I send you a huge check and an Edible Arrangement from The Commissioner himself.  Better yet sign on for two semesters and I will get you a house in DC. Keep up the good work Captain. Signed,

Kate

Kate Lawsell, Station Chief Case Officer, CIA

[jenuinely-speaking]

hi!!! can i ask 1, 12, 19, and 33 for the ask game?

Hello hello Lucky! 👋🏽🥰Hope your day is/has been going smoothly!

Starting off strong I see. Alrighty then *cracks knuckles* here we go~

1) What was your first exposure to TMNT?

I laugh at this now in retrospect.

Picture this: 9-year-old Jen visiting her newly moved out older sister with her mom. Mom and sis are needing to talk about stuff that doesn't involve wee little Jen, so big sis tells her to watch whatever DVD was left in the player -- should be good for a kid younger than preteen age to watch. Low and behold, it was the original 1990 Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles movie, at that time the same age as wee little Jen. Now, little Jen has seen the original cartoon -- but it had been a hit or miss. But this movie? Holy crap, it was like the holy grail was delivered within the palm of her hands.

What's funny, apparently mom and sis ended their conversation not even fifteen minutes into the movie and tried to get my attention, but I was immediately hooked and sucked into it -- they finally got my attention about halfway through the movie lol We ended up eating lunch at my sister's so I could stay and watch the movie. Never looked back and have no regrets (and lovingly fully blame my older sister to this day for my obsession🐢💕).

12) Which version of Donatello is your favorite?

Picked up on that, I see lol Honestly, love all the turtles equally due to their differences and complimentary dynamics--BUT, speaking specifically on Dontron...couldn't have asked a tougher question lol

After thinking on this (I literally stepped away to ponder this question, no lie) it will have to be Bayverse Donatello. His adorable snort-laugh (tickles me every time). His nonchalance on electrocuting his brothers with his electric bo. His pure, un-adulterated excitement with anything science/tech related, even if it's preconceived inconceivable science and tech. HIS NONCHALANT STEPPING OUT OF AN AIRPLANE AS IF HE WERE STEPPING OFF A PORCH. BRO. Just. *mind still trying to compute after so many years* What the fuck, Don?

I also can't help but think Bayverse Donatello was a core blueprint/inspiration for Rise Donatello and, if that's truth, I love that kid (Rise) even more for his complete, unhinged energy ✨🤌🏽

19) Who is your favorite ally?

Hands down, the Nutrinos from the 1987 cartoon. Absolutely love the trio, especially Kala. The episode where she was accidently stranded in the boys' dimension, and they had to work on getting her back home is one of my top 10 favorite episodes of any iteration of the series. Michelangelo and Kala tiptoeing around their hard-core crushes for each other is just chef kiss ✨🤌🏽🧡

33) What is your favorite thing you've made for TMNT?

Hhhhnnnggg That's another toughie, considering how endless my pit of stories has become. If I'm to be honest, it's a tie between two drafts that I have:

1) A story that started 13 years ago titled "The Fifth Renaissance Master". It is currently getting revised and ties in TMNT with Gargoyles and Transformers, a story that will be told within the span of 3 arcs. My two favorite bits? And this I don't mind spoiling 'cause it's gonna be in the summary once it's a good way along to post -- I figured out a way to have Elisa be their sister while still holding her adult history on becoming a detective for the NYPD. And for Transformers to tie in via the villains after the second arc. Words ✨cannot express✨ how excited I am for this story.

2) A softer story titled "A Family Tail" that is geared towards Splinter finding, in his early years as a newly formed mutant and father, the care, compassion, friendship, and eventual love from a nurse that helps him get his sons through their first ever bout of illness at a very young age. Possibly one of the most wholesome stories I've ever plotted out and my heart hurts so good every time I pick it up to write😭💕. I am thinking of posting this one soon(like, two really's soon), chapter-by-chapter, as I randomly get scenario ideas during the day. So, this one might just end up an on-going story post soon enough.

[blindrapture]

FRIDAY JUNE 17TH, 2011 (Going Brazilian)

8:10 AM TOO FUCKING EARLY SHUT UP

3:27 PM That’s better. I’m all rested up. Four and a half hours left. Shit, this is gonna either be really awesome or really, really get me killed. Or worse.

4:52 PM Just remember, Jordan. It’s for Donnie. It’s for Donnie. It’s for Donnie.

5:21 PM Prog. Prog passes the time away quickly.

6:19 PM Taking the sharpest rock,you cut the titan loose from his bonds After all you have been through, you'll be damned if you fear the sea anymore Only takes several cuts, and the tentacles all withdraw from the trench "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" Down comes lightning Strikes the titan All of those tentacles concentrate on you now Steam vent opens beneath And you are dragged to Hell

7:57 PM Door’s knocking. Paul Blackwood, you put it best in “Lowest Point” when you wrote Ready to end, ready to dissolve into atoms that are no longer your own.Then again, you also put it best when you said Draw a stairway for my God to spite the sofa of my faith. Hahahahahaaa… it’s for Donnie, it’s for Donnie, it’s for Donnie. >.<

7:58 PM Miiistreeeeess! :DDD Do you mind if I write this stuff down? I mean, it is an historical moment, our first date and everything. O: "Of course! I'm flattered! And also hungry. Let's go." …yes, let’s. x_x;

8:32 PM "Wow, I like this place. My pet, I praise you for good choice in atmosphere." Well, you know me. ^w^;; Always trying to please. "I'd be blushing if it weren't for my perfect wooden skin. When do we get to eat?" That’s entirely up to you! You’re the boss. >w> …she leaned over the table and smooched me on the cheek. Then she snapped her fingers and now we have a puppet waiter. "I'll have the steamed lobster, and my pet will have a large pizza, with pepperoni, spinach, and anchovies." o: How do you know my favorite food? "Oh, I know everything about you." .....god I hope not. but I just smiled. :) The waiter’s gone off to fetch our food. …SO, Mistress. I know it’s not my place and everything, but c’mon, it’s a date! Can you tell me about yourself? What’s your name? :D "Well, as you've probably gathered, they call me the Harlequin. I don't want you ever using that name, though. My title fits your lips just fine. ..besides, 'Harlequin' is back from when I was just a puppet…" …Mistress, you were once just a puppet? o___o "I know what you mean; how could I ever be someone's puppet? How could I fall for someone who just wants control over me? Someone who doesn't actually love me for who I really am? I.. don't really know, sometimes. ...I just don't know." ...o_o;; "I guess I'd may as well tell you this. If you're really, like.. going to be in my life, if you actually want to be around me, I can.. trust you. There was once a Master. Once. Before he met me. Oh, he was the cock of the walk, he had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand, he commanded respect, and you wouldn't believe, I mean even if I told you you literally wouldn't be able to believe just how many powerful people there were who did all he said. Again, before he met me. I was just another one of his victims at first. He had no reason to keep me alive. I was nothing, I was just a fucking girl, do you know I'm not much older than you? But he saw something in me. I think I reminded him of someone he knew. I don't know, I never worked up the courage to ask him, I really don't think he'd have told me. But he kept me around. He had me work for him, killing many innocent people. And I gained the epithet 'The Harlequin,' much like your 'White Jester.'" Wait. Really??? "Yeah. Funny, how things go, isn't it? I killed people, I was feared for it, and my master's pride in me grew and grew until, one day, he and I were properly in love... kinda." Kinda? "Yeah... I mean, I wasn't like you. You're, like, naturally submissive, so you came to the Pet lifestyle quite easily. I was... I am... naturally dominant, it's who I am, it got me into a lot of trouble back in my.. old... life... and, anyway, I didn't like serving some big honcho. So I did a very nasty thing." Did you.. kill him? "I did far worse than kill him. I made him wish he was dead. I had help, one of his friends, a guardian angel... he backed me up, and we made that fucker pay, together. That night, that 'friend' visited me again and gave.. gave me... my wooden skin. Which makes me invincible. It makes me a goddess. And I'm... thankful!!" ...I.. don't think you are. "Not what? Invincible? We can go toe-to-toe, you can fight me if you dare, you'll see, nothing can kill me. Nothing can even harm me! Nothing gets in my way. Nothing stops Rosa Syclus." ..Rosa. o: "You are never, and I mean never to call me that. Never repeat it. That life is over now. I will rule forever!" Of course, Mistress. "You're a good boy. Thank you for all this." It's. ..it's fine. c: Our food's here!

9:13 PM That was a delicious meal, Mistress. (Even though I never directly saw you eat; every time you left my sight and I looked back, you’d just have less food.) "I agree. Oh, and I have a present for you!" Aw, a present? .w.; Really? What? "I think you'll love it." (…motherfucker, there’s Tiger Stripes!) May I? "I don't see why not. Here, play us a clickity-clackety song, young Springsteen!"

9:14 PM Now that I have Tiger Stripes, what do you say we play a game, Your Greatness? "God, you're just so cute when you're trying to propose ideas. I'd love to play a game." Well. It’s simple. If you can get Tiger Stripes off me, you win!

9:19 PM RUNNING KITCHEN The puppets aren’t in here. I guess Mistress is really enthusiastic about playing along. Okay, I know where to hide, but the B-4000k isn’t open. Fuck. C’mon c’mon c’mon open open open oh my god open OPEN MY GOD THAT WAS LOUD KAY, I’m ducking. In front of the oven, behind the table. I should be obscured from Mistress’ view when she comes in. …"I like this game; it’s like my pet is playing hard-to-get." fuckfuck she’s in the kitchen now shhhh "I could swear I heard the sound of a pencil scribbling on paper!" ..welp. “Oh, was that Tiger Stripes hitting a table? Oh, not just any table, that was thaaat table right there! I think I’m just about to dominate you, bitch.” Her giggles, oh my god here she comes “AH. There’s my bitch.” She’s coming, just gotta be ready to swing… “Maybe after I ram that guitar up your ass, you can choke on my hairy pussy.” Sorry, Harly.. but this time, *sunglasses* you’re going Brazilian. Swing DIRECT HIT OH MY GOD CLOSE CLOSE OVEN CLOSE CLOSE OVEN CLOSE CLOSE OVEN CLOSE RJK(AGDJ YES OHHHH MY GOD THAT WAS ACTUALLY A FUCKING BADASS ONE-LINER I SAID BURN, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO. BURN. BURRRRRRRRN. BURN IN HELL WITH THE REST OF YOUR FUCKING PUPPETS. I can hear her screaming, oh my god, that’s pretty… disturbing. x_x;

9:26 PM Okay, it’s been long enough. Time to get out of here. …that noise didn’t sound like banging. That noise sounded like lifting. Tiger Stripes, give me strength. ..oh! Hi, Mistress! I see you lifted the oven door from inside! And I also see that you’re kinda on fire! Like, wow, you’re hot! Literally! Hahah, I mean.. you’re not mad at me, are you? See, that’s.. how you win the game! You shove the other person in the oven! I’m running now BONES YOU TOLD ME THAT THING WOULD BURN HER THEN AGAIN NO YOU DIDN’T YOU JUST GAVE ME THE RECEEEEEEIPT

9:30 PM OUT OF THE KITCHEN OH GOD THE RESTAURANT’S FRONT DOOR IS BLOCKED BY FIRE WHERE THE FUCK DID THAT FIRE COME FROM MISTRESS IS BEHIND ME ..AND SHE’S ALSO MELTING OH MY GOD THAT’S PRETTY BADASS She’s scorching black and her paint’s dripping off and she looks pretty hot! …oh, kissing your ass won’t work this time? Fuck.

9:31 PM WAIT, can’t we just cuddle? :DDD …STUPID QUESTION YOU’RE ON FIRE STAY AWAY Okay okay okay okay what to doooo OKAY NEW IDEA THERE ARE TWO DOORS TO THE KITCHEN SEE YA

9:32 PM I think I made it to the restroom without her spotting me. I think. Oh god I’m actually pretty scared, this is the fucking Harlequin we’re talking about. I can hear fire approaching and paint dripping to the floor closer and closer. Oh god shhhh

9:34 PM She’s walking away. I think I actually fooled her. Oh my god. ..wait. She stopped. …SHE’S CHARGING THE DOOR HIDE

9:35 PM shh

9:36 PM ..she’s not moving. Oh god, I’m in a stall, this is just like when we first met. Do I dare look under? …go for it oh my god. OH MY god she’s bending over, looking at me, yep. Except her face is mostly missing, except for one eye, staring at me, glaring at me while dripping to the floor. And she’s on fire.

9:37 PM ..I do not want to look again.

9:38 PM Then again, we’ll be here all night otherwise. She’s patient. …o_e She’s now officially faceless. Still on fire. Three stalls away. …….o___e Two stalls away. …………o_____e RUNNING, STICKING OUT TIGER STRIPES SO SHE WON’T TRIP ME

9:40 PM OH MY GOD HIDING UNDER ANOTHER FUCKING TABLE IN THE KITCHEN SHHHHH

9:42 PM She’s not saying anything at all and it’s really fucking creepy. She’s just melting. Slowly. I think, if I just avoid her for now, I’ll be good.

9:43 PM I HAVE AN IDEA I’ll whack her with Tiger Stripes again. Maybe, since she’s melting, she’s weak against it or something! C’moooon, Tiger Stripes. C’mooon Tiger Stripes. BATTER UP

9:44 PM …..o_____e I, uh.. well.. Tiger Stripes destroyed her wooden skin, alright. Now it’s shattering like a big piece of glass. And now esgjk9fb.. ..asrjgwemiefwmiefiwe. mwirIW$wrwirein! D: It’s Rosa Syclus. At least, what’s left of her after all these years of puppetry. She’s.. I mean, the wood’s gone, and the fire stopped with the wood. So now it’s just Rosa. And me. She’s in a dark-crimson dress. She’s a ginger. Freckles. And, well, okay, she’s more of a corpse than anything else, a living corpse. Except her eyes aren’t anything like any zombie I’ve ever seen. Her eyes are conscious and calculating. There’s no rage in those eyes, no impatience, no desire to rush and catch her prey, even though I’ve just been standing here like a sitting duck, writing for a while now. ..she’s put a hand on her hips. She knows I’m writing down her appearance. I don’t think she’s just creepy, journal; I think she’s a deductive genius. I think she can tell everything about you just by looking at you. Like Sherlock Holmes, but better, ‘cause she’s a dominant fucking girl! She’s just in the crimson dress. Nothing else. I think. …she just flashed me her naked crotch; yeah, she’s both wearing nothing else and she’s a deductive genius. And much hotter under the wood. ….no, Jordan. Don’t think about how hot she is, nor how brilliant and respectable she is. She’s a psycho. She’s a psycho. She is a psycho. Remember how she’s been forcing sex on you all this time? ”Forcing sex.” There’s a word for that, Jordan. Okay, Rosa. I don’t know what you’re planning, but right now I’m after one thing and one thing only. Revenge. You’ve caused too much trouble and I’m talking too much THIS IS FOR DONNIE! Rjsdgguig BEING SAT ON IS ACTUALLY PRETTY ENJOYABLE RIGHT NOW

9:50 PM RAGH BEING UNABLE TO GET FREE IS ALSO VERY LOVELY BUT I REALLY NEED TO.. GET GOING. …FJK(FEAJKEA MKI FUCK. FUCK. F(JICJI FUCK! ..RAGH OH MY GOD THAT WORKED SHE'S MUCH LESS HEAVY WITHOUT THE SUIT GOTTA RUN

9:52 PM KAY KITCHEN HIDE shh OH HI YOU’RE SMART I FORGOT OH GOD

9:53 PM FREEZER, slammed door shut, holding it shut, cold in here, fuck. This is pretty intense and terrifying. But if she was able to find me that easily then… What if she’s known I was planning this all along? Fuck. What if I really can’t kill her? How do you stop someone who’s fucking invincible? …I think I’ve got an idea.

9:55 PM Okay, this is gonna be extremely dangerous. And risky. But I’m gonna risk it. This time, I’ll write out the fucking plan before I do it so I don’t write during the action. Okay? Okay. So the plan is to open the door and get her to run in here, then for me to run out and slam the door shut and move something in front of the door. Then she can either freeze to death or for all eternity. Okay, kicking the door down in 3, 2, 1, GO

9:56 PM FFFFFF RHA HEY FUCK YUP GOTCHA TRAPPED OH MY GOD. …HOLY FUCK, DONNIE!

10:00 PM Donnie’s holding the door shut; I’m running to get something to keep the freezer shut with. …how heavy’s the oven? oh my god, why was this so expensive, even I can move it. I’ll move it in front of the door anyway.

10:01 PM Donnie and I are relaxing now. Rosa’s banging on the door. I haven’t heard one peep out of her since I set her on fire. Donnie’s shouting at Rosa, saying how we’re not afraid of her anymore. “We’re not afraid of being under your control, because we’re smarter than we look.” …Rosa’s stopped banging. Is she crying? o_o;

10:15 PM We decided to wait another fifteen minutes before we started moving out. Y’know. Just in case. Now we’ve left the restaurant. Over the fifteen minutes, I filled Donnie in with as much as I could. She can read this journal if she wants the full story, anyway. Donnie says she’ll fill me in on her story later, but the important part is she wanted to risk coming back a day early, so she entered a rabbit hole on the way back. I thanked her so much for it.

10:19 PM Donnie wants to stop by the house we’ve been staying at one last time.

10:34 PM Donnie’s telling me to come upstairs; there’s something she needs to show me.

10:36 PM Oh. :D Right. The promise I made before she left. Well. The puppetry is over, so maybe the genuine emotion can really begin? In the meantime, goodnight, journal. You’ll always be my first love. ;D …note: Donnie, if you ever read this, don’t kill me please.

(Attached: see following log.)

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[tarrenterror25]

Title: When the Night is Over Chapter: 1 of ? Pairing: Alfred Pennyworth (The Batman 2022) x F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: After the flood, Dulce looks to do her part to help Gotham heal and hopes to bring change to the city. As a wealthy designer there’s little she can do, but when she becomes privy to the identity of the Batman, she seizes the opportunity to help the caped crusader. With her close to Bruce, Alfred Pennyworth fears she has ulterior motives for the vigilante, but little does he know who she really has eyes for. Dulce learns what it’s like to live a double life and the sacrifices it takes to save a city.

Tags: post-The Batman, alcohol, smoking, MxF, age-gap (30′s/50′s), mention of disaster, post-disaster

Playlist here

Notes: Title is from Streets by Doja Cat. It’s here!! Just in time for 100 followers!! I am SO excited to begin this story and hope you guys have fun reading it! This is my second published OC ever and this story and her character are close to my heart so I’m excited to share her with you guys! I also am no fashion expert (love it to bits tho) so I am doing a LOT of research for this!

Chapter 1: Someone Like You

“Quality is remembered long after price is forgotten.”                                                        - Aldo Gucci

The Gotham City Museum hall is packed with an assortment of high society; mostly entrepreneurs and business moguls, but there are a few celebrity names. Among the crowd you can spot Johnny Charisma chatting up some folks or you can spot Jack Ryder weaseling his way through the guests looking for the next scoop. Of course, wherever the next headline is, Vicki Vale is never far off. People with money and enough drink in them will spill all kinds of secrets.

Champagne flows and hors d’oeuvres disappear faster than they can be plated. Loud music from a live jazz band fills the air combined with the sound of high pitched haughty laughter and chattery gossip from the guests. Everyone’s dressed in their finest; expensive fabrics flow and drape on the shoulders and hips of wives and mistresses while the men don their best suits, neatly pressed and shoes shined. The scent of the most obnoxious perfume and cologne creates a rather unpleasant cloud of smog once it meets with the cigar smoke. Mix in the vapors from all the liquor and it gives Ace Chemicals a run for its money.

“Why are we here again, Alfred?” Bruce Wayne asks with his hands in his pockets.

The older man gently nudges his ward and makes a gesture for him to stand up straight. Bruce mutters an apology and obliges.

“This is a benefit for those affected by the flood, Master Bruce,” Alfred explains.

“We couldn’t just write a check? I mean...I don’t see much reason for me to actually be here...I don’t see how this helps anyone.”

Alfred’s face wants to frown, but underneath the poor attempt is the hint of an amused smile. “Mayor Bella Reál insisted that you be present,” he says. “I warned you plenty of times that this was coming up. Just smile for a little longer, say some nice words, and then we’ll head home.”

Bruce nods and scans the room boredly.

There’s a large screen towards the front of the room next to the band with a dollar amount on the display; the numbers tick higher and higher every so often. Currently, the number is in the hundred thousands, just shy of a million.

Dulce’s gaze breaks from the screen and scans the room of guests. She scoffs and turns to Bella Reál and says, “So, we get to drink our weight in champagne while the rest of Gotham still wades in the harbor?”

“Don’t worry, Ms. Salazar,” Bella says assuringly. “Reconstruction for lower Gotham is already underway and we have federal assistance helping rebuild the seawall. The money from tonight will help locals reclaim their livelihoods and homes.”

With an understanding nod, Dulce sighs. “You’re right, I shouldn’t overthink it. It just...it doesn’t feel right,” she says politely refusing a champagne flute from a passing server. “Us here and the people affected...not. The danger may be gone, but the aftermath has only started.”

The mayor smiles and places a comforting hand on Dulce’s shoulder. She turns to her friend and says, “The people need to see that no matter what they think divides us, we are working together. This is our city, too.”

The two women embrace warmly. “Gotham is lucky to have you,” Dulce comments before pulling away. “You have my support no matter what, but now more than ever, whatever you need, I’m there.”

“You’ve always been generous to the city and I’m grateful for that,” Bella says. Her smile fades as she continues. “I wish I could say the same for the majority of Gotham’s elite.”

Dulce catches the mayor’s gaze wandering from her so Dulce glances over her shoulder and sure enough there’s the Prince of Gotham hanging back in the hall looking like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.

Bella sighs and says, “He’s come around since the flood, but it’s still a battle getting him involved.”

“Maybe he thinks there’s no hope for the city,” Dulce says dryly. “We should focus on the people who believe we’re worth saving.”

“I think he just needs some convincing,” Bella says. She gives a look to Dulce.

“Wait, what?” Dulce raises a brow, but Bella’s pleading face says it all. “You want me to talk to him?”

“Listen,” Bella says. “Spring is coming and you have your fashion show coming up! Get him involved, make it public, and use it to rally people! Boost some morale around here!”

Dulce shakes her head and waves a finger at Bella.

“Bella, no! Partnering with Bruce Wayne is not a good idea.” She makes sure her voice is quiet when she says that. “He’s hardly ever out of his own home much less has his hand in his own business!”

Bella grasps Dulce by the shoulders and looks her dead in the eye with all the seriousness she can muster. “Look, you are one of the most influential people in this city,” Bella says.

Dulce smiles and opens her mouth to thank her but Bella cuts her off.

“Behind closed doors,” she adds.

“Bella, I don’t do anything for the attention of it, you know that. I just-”

Bella interrupts again. “I want to see you both come out at the top of this. What was that about ‘whatever you need, I’m there’?”

Dulce is quiet and has to stop from rolling her eyes mid-roll.

“You’re my friend, both of you, and his name holds a lot of weight in this city. Please,” Bella pleads again.

Dulce has only ever seen Bruce Wayne from afar. She’s never actually formally met him though he’s never bothered to introduce himself to anyone anyways, she’s never had a reason to talk to him.

Bruce straightens when he sees the mayor and Dulce approaching him and Alfred.

“Bruce Wayne,” Bella says extending her hand to him. “Good to see you out and about. You look great.”

Bruce shakes her hand and offers a polite smile. “Good to see you, too,” he says.

“I want to introduce you to a close friend of mine,” Bella says. “This,” she gestures next to her, “is Dulce Salazar, a huge supporter of Gotham City. She’s partaking in efforts to rebuild Gotham’s infrastructure.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Bruce says extending his hand to Dulce.

“Charmed to finally meet you, Mr. Wayne,” Dulce replies shaking his hand.

There’s an odd silence that settles between the group. With a raised brow, Dulce’s eyes flick over to his companion as if to remind him of his manners.

“Oh, this is Alfred,” Bruce adds quickly.

The butler, with a smile warmer than his master’s extends his hand. “Alfred Pennyworth, miss,” he says.

Dulce shakes his hand. Her eyes can’t help but hold his gaze for a fraction of a second longer than she know she should.

Bella and Alfred leave the other two alone. The conversation between Bruce and Dulce is strained and awkward. Bruce is out of practice with how to. speak and without Alfred to feed him lines or give him cues, he’s stumbling a bit. It doesn’t help that Dulce just doesn’t seem interested in talking to him so her answers are short and clipped.

“So, we haven’t met before?” Bruce asks, his tone tentative but even, like he’s putting together a puzzle. “I feel like I know you?” A moment later and then he gives a small smile. “You own the fashion house in the diamond district?”

Dulce’s smile tries to hide that she’s not offended by his ignorance and poor memory. She’s doing her best, really, she is, but she can’t help the sarcasm that slips through when she speaks. “No, Mr. Wayne, we haven’t been formally introduced,” she says. “We have met briefly in passing though you wouldn’t remember.”

Bruce raises a brow, sensing the hostility. Quickly, Dulce clears her throat and adds in a much nicer tone, “And yes, I own the Castillo fashion house as well as the boutique, Castle Co.”

He nods thoughtfully and gives a very small sly smile, like he knows more than he lets on. “The Castillo fashion house, I’m familiar with it,” he comments. “But...your surname is different?”

A small, but genuine, sly smile graces Dulce’s features. “You’re more perceptive than you let on,” she says straightening up. “Castillo is my family’s name.”

“But not yours?”

“No,” Dulce quips. She mutters an apology and continues. “I was denied my father’s name. Salazar is my mother’s maiden name.”

Bruce nods. “The rest of the family must get a kick out of that,” he says with a soft chuckle.

Though she senses that he’s trying to be playful, Dulce doesn’t smile.

“There might be...distant familial relations somewhere, but as far as I know, I am all there is to ‘the family’. I am what’s left of the name and the house, much like you, Mr. Wayne.”

His smile fades into an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to-”

“This city is my family now,” Dulce adds.

Bruce gives a small smile, it’s soft and understanding. “You and me both,” he says.

Dulce’s offensive posture softens as she’s sees something different in Bruce’s eyes; something lost and hurt. Maybe it was always there and she was being too stubborn too notice, but she sees it now. She scolds herself for forgetting his own experience with loss and being too concerned with putting up an aggressive front. She corrects her tone and posture to be more warm and inviting. He takes to it and slowly straightens up as the conversation moves along much smoother than when it initially started.

As the two continue to talk and bond a little over their similar familial structures, Dulce can’t help but steal glances at the gentleman who accompanied Bruce.

She’s seen photographs of him, mostly his profile from a distance as Bruce is typically the focal point for the paparazzi. Tonight is the first night that she’s seen him in person and this close.

None of the media do him justice.

Despite that he may appear as a humble butler, Dulce can detect another sort of mysterious air about him, a graceful aura. She notices he stands with by far the most poise of any of the other guests, hands neatly folded in front of him. She watches him walk, how he carries himself when he’s speaking to the other guests; so polite, smooth, and refined. For a man his age, he’s also impeccably handsome, the distinguishable rogue scar on his brow contrasts the neatly trimmed facial hair. It’s simultaneously sophisticated and rugged.

Mentally, Dulce slaps herself, a twinge of shame coming over her for looking at him in such a way. She can’t help it. Every time her gaze dances around the room, her eyes land on him. His presence is so magnetic and Dulce wants nothing more than to go over and talk to him. A somber thought occurs to her that no one knows when Bruce will show his face again. Dulce might never see Alfred Pennyworth again beyond this night.

As Bruce begins to excuse himself, Dulce thinks quickly and retrieves a business card from her clutch. She hands it to him. “Come by and I can fit you for something,” she says happily.

“I take it these clothes bother you?” Bruce jokingly asks.

She chuckles at his joke. “Three buttons is a little 90′s, Mr. Wayne and we can talk more about raising funds for the city. I have a proposal you might be interested in.”

He accepts the card and walks off. Dulce wastes no time in turning her attention back to Alfred, frowning and gently shooing away a server trying to offer her some kind of appetizer.

Dulce plays like she’s just hanging back and taking in the room, but she’s taking the opportunity to look Alfred over completely. Being a designer, she can’t help but look over his outfit and she notes how handsome and striking he is in it. Most of the men here, the younger ones and the older ones trying to pretend they’re young, are wearing sports blazers or just a pressed shirt. They have gaudy ties that don’t match their attire, they’ve adorned their hands with every hulking ring they own, and they saunter like the world owes them something. Dulce finds the lack of care and the audacity of them distasteful.

Bruce and Alfred are about the only two who are wearing three-piece suits and Alfred is about the only one with his tie on properly; not poorly knotted or pulled loose from the neck. For his accessories, he has on only a gold watch that pairs nicely with his cane. Everything about him says “proper” and it makes Dulce’s heart swoon. Yet his expression, when he isn’t smiling, but watching and observing, is harsh and stern. The way his brow quirks up makes him look like he’s getting ready to tell someone off. It has Dulce feeling a certain way and she’s not sure if she likes it or not.

Dulce doesn’t realize Alfred is walking towards her until he’s a few yards from her. She pulls herself from her thoughts and smooths out her gown and adjusts the strategically placed loose curls from her updo. Soon Alfred stands directly in front of her.

She gives a polite smile and says, “Bruce stepped away for a drink I think.”

“I hope he wasn’t too off-putting,” Alfred jokes. “His conversational skills are a bit rusty, I’m afraid.”

“He seemed to do well enough,” she replies.

The light coming off of the candles and golden light fixtures in the museum hall do wonders in catching the blue of his eyes.

“I don’t think we’ve met properly,” Alfred says.

“No, we haven’t,” she replies. “I’m Dulce, I’m a designer and run the Castillo fashion house.”

His smile is cordial. “I thought the name sounded familiar,” he notes. “The mayor says you are an avid supporter of the city, do you do any sort of political work or...?”

“Oh, no!” Dulce says. “Nothing like that, I’m just a designer and I make clothes.”

“No one is just anything, miss.”

A warmth spreads to Dulce’s cheeks and she has to turn away from him. “You certainly are too kind, sir,” she says off-handedly.

From the corner of her eye she catches the swell of his chest at the title. The thought of calling him that again flutters briefly in her mind.

The pair chat awhile longer, longer than Dulce realizes. From across the room, Bella taps her watch and waves her over. Reluctantly, Dulce excuses herself from Alfred’s presence.

The rest of the night carries on with the usual unpleasantries of these things; drunken laughter, a few unwanted touches, and blissful ignorance. Hardly anyone seems actually interested in why they’re there, they just seem to gloating in the fact that they are. The money that’s being donated is only done as a show of power. Dulce watches how every political official, socialite, and business power clams up the second Bella mentions the flood and its victims. Dulce’s one of the few at this party who has actually stepped foot in lower Gotham. Most of these guests haven’t so much as lifted a finger in their entire lives.

Dulce can’t help but be sarcastic when she makes conversation with the rest of the guests. She doesn’t pretend about liking them like they do with each other. Many of these people covet Dulce’s work and would love to talk to her, but it’s speaking to Dulce, herself, that is less than desirable since she’s seen as unpleasant. But she has to be, she can’t help it. If Dulce were anything but unpleasant then these people would walk all over her. But she tries to be nice for Bella’s sake this evening.

Even while navigating the rest of the party, Dulce’s mind comes back to him.

Alfred.

On the drive home and all the way to her front door where she kicks off her heels, she’s still thinking about him. Not even the scalding water of her bath can numb her to whatever feeling she’s clinging onto, the one she felt when he was standing so close to her. She sighs and slumps further into the tub, submerging herself until the water stops right under her nose.

It’s been a long time since she’s felt this way about someone. It’s difficult; being successful and having an equally successful relationship. Trying to balance the two was exhausting, especially when most men were against her being the breadwinner. After her last relationship some time ago, she just stopped trying. She hardly even bothered giving anyone the time of day now. She didn’t really feel the need for a partner anyways. She didn’t need dates or to flirt, didn’t need to hold hands with someone or look forward to seeing them. Or was she just telling herself that?

She closes her eyes.

Something about Alfred gave Dulce the whole butterflies in her stomach; it was a little pathetic, really, how weak she suddenly was for a well-dressed man. A much older well-dressed man. Oh, that makes Dulce’s face heat up. A flush comes over her and suddenly the water’s cold. Dulce, herself, is only in her 30′s which, in Gotham, is quite young since most of the powers that be have been around since she was born. It’s those people that look down their noses at her. They think she’s too naive, not yet mature enough to understand how things work in Gotham. But Dulce understands all too well how things work in Gotham’s higher social circles and it’s why she doesn’t want to think about Alfred in this way, but she does.

Her mind starts to wander from the features on his face, his eyes, jaw, to his torso, so broad, to his hands and...

She has to completely submerge herself in the water to keep from imagining how his hands would feel on her skin.

A clock on the wall of the Castillo fashion house chimes that it’s noon.

Bruce and Alfred enter the establishment.

It’s been some time since the benefit, but the butler has managed to get Bruce out of the tower to be properly fitted for something to “keep up appearances”.

Right now, Bruce wears a t-shirt with some jeans and a sports coat while Alfred is dress in his usual neat attire. Bruce removes his sunglasses and tucks them into his coat when he enters the building, his eyes squint at the light coming off the white walls and furnishings. Alfred is clearly the more well-rested of the two.

A woman comes up and takes their coats as Dulce approaches them with an amiable smile. She’s dressed in a pinafore jumpsuit and a simple blouse. Her hair is pulled up into a ponytail, nothing like the tight updo from the party. She seems much more relaxed here.

Dulce leads the pair to a dressing area of sorts where there’s a small short platform in front of a massive trifold mirror. She guides Bruce to stand on the platform and begins to look her over curiously. He scans the room a bit like he’s expecting someone else to come in.

He notes how Dulce collects a tray of supplies and sets it on a small end table next to the platform. Its contents are needle and thread, tape measure, pins and pin cushions, scissors, and whatever else he suspects a seamstress or tailor might need.

“You know how to sew?” he asks, surprise slipping into his tone.

Dulce just smiles as she picks up the measuring tape and gestures for Alfred to have a seat on a couch nearby. “Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Wayne,” she says looking up at him.

“What do you mean?”

She begins taking his measurements as she speaks, occasionally jotting down the numbers on a notepad. “I think people underestimate you,” she says. “People think you don’t care to notice things and I admit, I was one of those people, but really, you seem to be quite the detective.”

Bruce stiffens a bit at the comment.

Dulce goes on and says, “But yes, I can sew. I can cut, drape, and stitch. I like doing things myself. Why do you ask?”

He shrugs and replies, “Most people, designers, who do this stuff don’t, I guess. They just tell someone else to do those things.”

Dulce straightens and looks him right in the eye. “I am not most designers, Mr. Wayne,” she says with a curt smile.

Bruce rolls his eyes and looks away.

As Dulce continues measuring him, she steals a few glances over to where Alfred sits on the couch. His legs are slightly apart and his cane sits between them, both hands resting atop the pommel. There’s a soft power in how he sits; his back straight, chin up, and shoulders back. She can’t explain it, but it has her, Dulce, a woman who prides herself in being bold and confident, feeling very small.

All the men she had been with before didn’t have the same grace about them and it was laughable how they thought their crude dominance would bring her to her knees, not like that would ever happen anyways. But something about just the way Alfred was sitting exuded a quiet air of authority and again Dulce can feel the butterflies in her stomach.

Everyone else she’s ever been with didn’t even know how to hold a woman, but Dulce can tell that Alfred looks like he would hold someone like a gentleman would.

She finishes up the measurements and has a few employees bring out some clothes for Bruce to try on. He disappears behind a nearby dressing screen to try each one on and then resumes his place on the platform to look himself over. Dulce makes some adjustments to a jacket he’s wearing, putting pins in where she wants to make alterations. Bruce looks over his shoulder and asks Alfred for his opinion. The butler rises from the couch and walks over to get a better look.

Oh dear.

Alfred is close enough that Dulce can pick up the faint scent of his cologne. She clears her throat as Alfred speaks to Bruce and adjusts one of the sleeves of the jacket, her hand accidentally brushing Alfred’s. She looks up at him to apologize and for a brief moment their eyes meet. In this light, his eyes are like oceans; bright and blue. There’s no doubt she could get lost in them.

Dulce clears her throat again to break the tension and moves to adjust the lapels on the jacket. “As I was saying earlier,” she says trying to compose herself, “a notch or peak style lapel suits you much better, brings out your shoulders. A shawl style you should save for formal occasions. For pants, I think a straight leg style works for you, makes you look more broad. And I think an overcoat is in order, a peacoat doesn’t suit your figure.”

Bruce gives a small smile as he looks himself over in the mirror. “I’ll try to remember all of that.”

After trying on more clothes, Dulce insists that she bring the finished pieces to Wayne Tower herself. She and Bruce discuss payment and though the former tries to argue against it, Bruce insists.

“You said you had an idea about raising funds for the city,” Bruce says as Dulce returns the clothes to a garment rack nearby.

“Oh, yes,” she says handing him and Alfred their coats back. “I’m about to present my spring collection in an upcoming show and the funds from it will go towards the flood relief efforts. I would like to have you as a sponsor. Your name attached to it would certainly draw a crowd.”

Bruce nods thoughtfully. Though his face has his usual stoic expression, Dulce can tell he seems to agree with her reasoning.

“Sounds good,” he says.

He gestures for pen and paper and Dulce hands it to him. Bruce scribbles down some information. “Here’s a number and you can come by Wayne Tower to make arrangements. Whatever you need we’ll cover it,” he says.

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne,” Dulce says taking the pen and paper. She’s a little shocked, not entirely expecting him to go along with the idea. “Truly, I appreciate this.”

“Just Bruce is fine,” he replies with a small smile.

The pair leave and Dulce begins work on the garments for Bruce. A few times she pricks her finger with the needle and swears it’s not because her mind is drifting back to the only person who’s been on her mind since the party.

She sighs and sets down the jacket she’s working on and sits back in her chair.

A small smile graces her features as she thinks about how she can see Alfred again when she brings the garments to Wayne Tower.

Notes: I had to pay homage to Lucius from The Dark Knight because his soft sass is unmatched 💕

“I need a new suit.” “Well, three buttons is a little 90′s, Mr. Wayne.” “I’m not talking fashion so much as function.”

I am so worried I made Dulce too mean, but she can’t be perfect, she has to grow okay 🥺

[halt-kun]

Jujutsu Kaisen Chapter 223 - The decisive battle in the uninhabited, demon-infested Shinjuku (1)

edit : I just noticed I was missing the title, it’s just the website where I read the scans forgot a page

Will it be another set up chapter before the fights begin ?

Probably

Am I hyped anyway ?

Definitely

Ooooo are they going to do a ritual ? For what purpose ?

I really hope Megumi won't die but rip just on case

And Gramps and Utahime didn't seem like the best assist but okay let's see it

 Gojo is still as hot as ever

And pretty chill

Well mainly because he's shouldering all the blame when he actually just expects too much from himself because he's the strongest

You need help Gojo, it's fine to ask for it, even when you're strong

Hehehe he changed

To protect baby panda, It's true that creating an army is special grade level, we can see it with Geto, the principal could be OP with some preparations, even though we have yet to see a special grade puppet

 Well rip HQ, they deserved it

We don't need to spend more than one panel on this

Okay I suspected it was just for a barrier but I thought it would be a bit more special than that

Well let's get ready to rumble

Barrier setting, well it's not like they'll have Kenjaku around with Tenngen the master of barrier setting

Maki, Hakari and Yuta will be the ones taking care of him

Utahime can just boost people ?

Like buff them and I guess debuff with reversed cursed techniques

But I hoped she would have something a bit more proactive

Well she did her best 

GOJO WILL BE OP

Something big is coming and I bet it was the massive energy we saw in the second panel

Rip Sukuna

That will hurt a bit

I know they'll probably just cancel each other out

But I can dream

Is he gonna stop that using Megumi's techniques ?

I really hope everyone evacuated

If not, they had it coming

oooooOoOo so it did hit bad

Let see how is Sukuna

One hand, well he can grow it back but at least it begins

It looks like he actually had to grow back his second hand too, it would be logical considering the pose he had when he saw the attack coming 

Hehehe troll him a bit Gojo

We know you're the strongest and Sukuna soon will

I am a bit worried but it's fine It's going to be an insane chapter next week, even if it's just the rest of the group engaging Kenjaku, I’m hyped

[thejourneyofjay]

Really, what else can I take?

I try to keep my skin covered.

It seems like I'm aging prematurely.

I'm not shy about baring it all

I have a very long way to go before I can claim the title of empress.

Before starting a family, I want to get married.

Where have I gone wrong?

My womb keeps on bursting with new life.

How come she keeps having kids?

Many years have been spent on my education.

Truthfully, I should know where I stand.

I leave my seat in the classroom.

My life seems aimless right now.

I make every effort to support myself financially.

Given how critical I am of myself, I doubt a romantic partner would change that.

A person who cannot provide for me is not someone I want to be with.

My name is lazy, and I don't work.

I hope I make a great impression on you.

We're being used by you.

No longer do I conform to your preconceived notions of myself.

You just discard us like trash.

Really, what else can I take?

Currently, my back is hurting quite a bit.

As always, you're giving me more to do.

Because I did not have access to the humanities textbook, I decided to choose an object that had significant creative meaning for me. My selection is a painting by the late master artist Annie Lee that is available in an open edition and depicts a weary but determined African-American lady on a Monday morning. Blue Monday was conceived as a result of Lee's experiences working on the train. Annie's Blue Monday was the sole self-portrait she ever painted, despite the fact that Lee left her face out of the painting. Her line of thinking was that anybody may experience a Blue Monday just as she did. Lee had high hopes that her clientele would be able to put themselves in the shoes of the various characters and re-create the events of the novel using their own bodies. It would seem that my translation is accurate in this instance. As African American women, we face a large list of expectations and responsibilities even when we do something as simple as getting out of bed. As long as we keep moving forward, regardless of how challenging the situation may be, the rest of the world will hold us to the standard that we establish. You may consider the image to be a representation of it in your mind. All of that exhaustion, the need for a break, the feeling that the weight of the world is on your shoulders. There is an instance of every essential component being present. And I think that my ekphrasis does a very good job of complementing the piece of artwork.

[myslayreviews]

Greenhouse Burning

Burning (2018)

Reviewing this cinematic adaptation of a short story titled ‘Barn Burning’ by William Faulkner, or rather an adaptation of the reinterpretation by Haruki Murakami, is going to be a difficult task. Due to its onion-like nature, this film keeps peeling off layer after layer, sucking the spectator further down the never-ending rabbit hole. 

The film ‘Burning’ explores several heavy topics through a thick fog of tension, ambiguity, and three vastly different personas. It pulls you into an old white van, or an expensive car, and takes you on a back and forth roadtrip. This journey stretches from the urban environment of the wealthy South Korean men, all the way to a cattle-rich village bordering North Korea. The three important characters are the main focus of the film, as the director, Lee Chang-dong, plays with the viewer's perception of them. The film’s main strength lies exactly here; it keeps asking you questions, while providing no answers, leaving you wondering if you are interpreting it right. The masterful manipulation of this genre-bending piece makes you crave more of its bittersweetness, each watch giving you a taste of a different treat. 

Our protagonist is Lee Jong-su, a working-class delivery-man in his 20s. His ordinary little life is flipped upside down when he comes across Hae-mi, an old schoolmate and neighbour. We are told that their only interaction back in school was when he called her ugly, but a lot has changed since, particularly Hae-mi’s physical appearance. In a classic manic-pixie-dream-girl manner, she has peculiar interests, such as ignoring the absence of an object through the medium of pantomime. She can eat a tangerine whenever she wants just by simply forgetting it is there. Her charming quirks trigger a flow of fluffy feelings that swirls through the protagonist and the viewer alike. As they grow closer, Hae-mi makes a new friend/love interest, a mysterious and charming wealthy man, Ben. Lee is completely infatuated by him; Ben has everything Lee desires, including an exciting lifestyle, money and Hae-mi’s attention. The twist of the film occurs as Hae-mi vanishes into thin air, like a gust of smoke. Lee Jong-su is determined to find her by investigating his main suspect: Ben. But how reliably is Lee piecing the puzzle together? 

This question is never answered. In fact, no question gets answered, despite our burning desire to know. The viewer hopes and begs for a resolution, for the truth, but it is never explicitly addressed. All you can do is let 'Burning' completely submerge you in its world of ambiguous longing for meaning. The viewer searches for the meaning of the film, while the characters long for the meaning of their story. Lee Jong-su searches for Hae-mi, and in these moments of the film, you are as poor, as in love, and just as confused as he is.

So what is 'Burning' really about? Is it telling the story of a hungry girl who finds herself unable to choose between two very different men? Or is it a murder mystery triggered by the class tension and conflict in South Korea? Does 'Burning' simply tell the story of the endless search for meaning in every little thing, or perhaps the meaning of life? I am not sure if anyone has figured this out, but the burning questions are meant to be experienced, rather than answered. Was the invisible cat ever there? 

[taleasnewastime]

Let’s get quizzical

Summary: Thursday night pub quizzes with your friends are a must. One of those friends being your long-term friend, long-term crush, Park Jimin. At this point 99.9% of the population knows you have feelings towards him, Jimin being the 0.1% that doesn’t. But what happens when a bet goes wrong and your weekly quizzes become more complicated than fun?

Pairing: Jimin x reader

Genre: friends to lovers; fluff; angst; smut

Word count: 28.6k

Warnings: Safe sex, oral (female receiving), ANGST, a lot of feelings, drinking, bad jokes, a lot of dodgy quiz questions.

Authors Note: This has taken me a hot minute to write, but I really enjoyed it and am really proud of it. The summary was almost impossible to write without giving everything away, so I apologise if it doesn’t do the story justice. I hope that you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Hoping you have the best day and sending you all the love :)

“Question 9: who is Chancelor Johnathan Bennett?”

“Chancellor of the exchequer?” Jin jumps in before the question has finished being asked.

“Chancelor is his name not job title,” you roll your eyes. “Could be a local MP though?”

“Bit niche for a pub quiz? And what MP is going to be called Chancelor?” Jimin chips in, eyes on you.

“You’d be surprised what some of those wanker, Eaton educated, Conservatives are called,” Jin says and immediately holds up his hands in defence, though no one scolds him.

“We must have a better answer than local MP,” Connie sighs, ever the sensible one.

“It’s Chance the Rapper,” Yoongi says before taking a sip of his beer, having already scribbled the answer down.

“See I told you Yoongi would be good,” Jin pats Yoongi on that back, which only causes the scowl on Yoongis face to deepen.

“Chancelor, chance the rapper, I guess it works. Not as clever as Flo Rida, like Florida,” you say and watch as a look washes over Connies face. “Don’t say you’ve only just realised. Next you’ll tell me you thought Elton John was his actual name.”

She tries to keeps her face neutral but you can tell that she also had no idea about that. You just roll your eyes with a small laugh.

“If anyone doesn’t deserve to be on the team, it’s obviously Connie,” Yoongi pipes up.

“Hey,” she narrows her eyes at Yoongi and he lifts an eyebrow at her, a small smile on his lips.

“And finally, question 10 - the last in the music round, and the final question tonight,” you all quieten when the quiz host starts to speak again. “What do ABBA, Spice Girls, Queen and Take That, all have in common? Clue, Take That have done it twice. We’ll have a break before doing the answers, feel free to get refreshments while you wait.”

There is a post question buzz in the pub, frantic whispers as the teams debate the answer they want to give.

“Everyone thinks they have a the in front of their names but they don’t.” Again Jin is quick to jump in with his suggestion.

“Have they all disbanded and come back together?” You ignore Jin completely.

“I think Take That have done that more than twice,” Jimin says. “What about, they were all wrongly given awards?”

“Did the Spice Girls ever get any awards?”

“If they did, it was surely a mistake,” Jimin smirks at you. “Come on then Yoongi, master of music, put us out of our misery.”

“Queen, Spice Girls and Take That aren’t really my bag,” he shrugs.

“I like that ABBA is,” you smile.

Yoongi gives a non-comital shrug and mumbles “Dancing Queen is a bop” into his beer.

“Still want to stand by your earlier statement?” Jimin mocks Jin while Yoongi shoots him an irritated look.

“I reckon we just go with a member left the band but the band carried on without them,” Connie steers the conversation back to the question. “I mean Take That have had more members leave and then re-join than people in the EastEnders cast, but we’ve got nothing better.”

“Obscure reference,” Yoongi mumbles but scribbles down the answer anyway.

“Right as that’s over, another drink?” Jimin stands up and looks expectedly around the table. You all give a nod in agreement and he’s off to join the small crowd gathering at the bar.

“I miss Joon. He is the structure of this team. The backbone. He would have known the answer to that bumble bees question in an instant. We should ban him from missing in the future,” Jin whines.

“He’s at his grandmas 80th birthday,” you laugh.

“This is more important. We could have won tonight if he was here.”

“We never win, even with him here. Anyway, I thought the team name Kim Seokjin was supposed to be the thing that brought us luck.”

“Hey, I don’t make the rules, just follow them,” he gives you a wide toothy smile that you admit makes him look handsome, though you’d never say it to him. “So how much we betting Jimin takes that bartender home tonight?” He gives a nod to the bar.

You wish your heart doesn’t drop the way it does at the words, wish your eyes don’t automatically shoot to the bar where Jimin stands, wish the ball in your throat doesn’t form when you see his relaxed lean on the bar and the girls head lolling back in a laugh at something he said. But all of these things happen without much thought.

“I’ll give you 50p,” your voice comes out thick, your humour forced and you hope no one at the table notices. “At this point isn’t it a given?”

Jin hums, eyes watching Jimin who is still easily chatting to the girl behind the bar.

“Is she new? Don’t think I’ve seen her before?”

“Why? Jealous Jimin got there first?” You ask.

“Just thinking of poor Becky. He is certainly running a one in one out system here.”

Becky was one of Jimins previous hook ups, as someone that worked most quiz nights at the pub, it was a sore topic with you. Having to witness the flirting and eventual weeks of familiarity between her and Jimin was tough. It was no secret that Jimin was a hit with pretty much everyone, and being a young and single male, he took full advantage of the attention. It was just hard to harbour a massive crush on the man and then watch his many endeavours, you not being one of them. You were friends, good friends, in a strong friendship group, you could see why he would never look at you twice. That, and compared to all the other woman he seemed to go out with, you were like a rusty 1 pence piece, while they were shiny, brand new pound coins.

You are pretty sure that 99.9% of the population knows about your crush on Jimin, that unknowing 0.1%, mercifully being Jimin. And even though you are sure everyone sat around the table with you knows about your feelings, you are glad that they at least pretended to not know. It was an unspoken fact. Something that was known but skirted around, jokes were still made about Jimin, but never so deeply that it affected you.

“I thought Becky ended it with Jimin?” Yoongi asks.

“Oh Yoongi, you have a lot of quiz history to learn,” Jin shakes his head in mock despair.

Yoongi was Jins flat mate, and though he has been friends with you all for as long as he’s lived with Jin, this was his first week joining you at the quiz. Jin had promised he had as much useful, useless quiz knowledge as Namjoon and would be a good asset to the team. Everyone really knew that Jin had been trying to convince Yoongi to join you guys at the quiz for years and Yoongi has only now caved. What Jin had to sell, bribe, sacrifice, or promise to get that to happen, you doubt you will ever find out.

“Becky only ended it with Jimin because she saw a text on his phone from an Alex asking to meet up,” Jin continues. “It was quite the spectacle. Lots of shouting, a bit of pushing, a few spilt drinks, and that was just from me trying to get a better view of the argument,” Jin lets out a squeaky laugh that no one joins him in.

“Becky broke it up with Jimin because she thought he was going behind her back with someone else. Jimin denied it, but Becky didn’t believe him. Turns out he was telling the truth; Alex is not only someone Jimin works with but is also a bloke,” Connie gets straight to the point, cutting off Jins long winded story. “Seems Becky changed her shifts around to not work on quiz nights.”

“Right,” Yoongi finishes off his drink in one last gulp, looking as if he wished he’d never asked in the first place.

“So come on then, bets in, how long until this new girl is just another notch on Jimins every growing belt,” Jin claps his hands together.

You frown at him. “Is this not a bit disrespectful to both this girl and Jimin.”

“It’s just a bit of fun,” Jin pouts.

“Well I gave my 50p bet. Like I said, it’s pretty much a sure thing at this point,” you say, your heart panging at the words.

“Sure. What number female bartender will this be now? I think he may be going for a world record attempt at this point. He’ll have to start seducing the men next. Watch out Brad,” Jin nods to the bar manager, a man in his 50s with a bald head and beer belly. The comment at least gets a smirk from Yoongi, who covers this fact with a cough and hand to his lips.

“I agree with Y/N, this seems unfair to the girl. Not everyone is as easily seduced by Jimins good looks, take me and Y/N for example,” Connie says, and when Jin opens his mouth to return a comment, presumably about how you are not immune to Jimins good looks and Connie is in a long and committed relationship, she carries on before he can speak. “But, I will be placing a bet. I’ll pay for a round of drinks for everyone, but I don’t think he’ll actually take her home with him till next week.”

“Finally, an actual bet. Thank you Connie,” Jin shoots you a look. “I will accept that bet and raise you a drink and a packet of crisps, that he takes her home tonight.”

“A packet each, or just one to share,” you ask.

“What do you take me for?” A hand goes to Jins chest as if he’s been blown a fatal hit. “Of course a packet each. I’ll even let you pick what flavour you want, though it won’t come to that as it is clear that he will be taking her home tonight.”

Another glance to the bar sees that although there has been a bit of movement, it is only so that the two can stand closer to the pumps. The girl is making light work of pouring drinks out while still laughing at whatever Jimin is saying. It makes your blood run hot in anger or more likely jealousy.

“Fine, I’ll up my 50p bet. Though it was going to be a rare peter rabbit one that could have fetched you thousands,” Jin looks unimpressed by your attempt to act like you were in on this whole thing from the start. “I’ll raise your drink and a packet of crisps and throw in a sours shot. I think he’ll only get her number tonight, but they’ll text and he’ll just happen to stumble upon her on a night out and that is when they’ll hook up.”

Jin hums at your proposal. “I like it Y/N. But, only if it’s apple sours.”

“Cherry or nothing,” you say with a straight face.

“Deal,” he replies with a nod of his head, Connie nodding along on the other side of the table. “And Yoongi, what’s your offer?”

All heads turn to the man who seems to have been paying little attention to what anybody's been saying. It surprises you when he talks.

“Yeah, sure, I’m in.”

“The point is to say what you’re betting.”

“I’ll match Y/N. But I don’t think he’s ever going to sleep with her,” his statement shocks all of you. “Or kiss her for that matter. I guess I wouldn’t rule out him taking her number, but I don’t think he’ll do it for any other reason than he doesn’t want to be rude when she offers it.”

You all sit in silence a beat digesting his words.

“Do you have some sort of inside information that we aren’t privy to?” Jin is the first to speak.

“Not that I know,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Then I will accept your generous offer Yoongi. And I cannot wait to accept all of your payments next week,” Jin beams at you all, giving Yoongi another pat on the back that causes a look to pass over his face that makes you worry for Jins safety.

“What we talking about?” A tray is placed down on the table before Jimin takes his seat.

“Jin was just giving his usual spiel about missing Joon,” you roll your eyes. “One of these days he will tell us he finally confessed his feelings.”

You look at Jin to see a playful smirk on his lips, an eyebrow raised in question and you realise how your words reflect perfectly on your own situation with Jimin. You flush with embarrassment.

“He’s a beautiful man with a beautiful mind,” Jin says casually while grabbing his fresh drink.

“Just a shame that he has a lovely long-term girlfriend,” Jimin gives a wide smile, passing you your drink. Your fingers brush against his and your heart summersaults. You wonder if Jimin will ever not affect you.

“Speaking of long-term girlfriends, who’s the new blonde barmaid?”

Jin slips it in so casually that you are caught unawares. Your face heats again and you decide to focus on your beer instead of anyone's face. You don’t want to see Jin trying to catch your eye when Jimin speaks about the girl, you don’t want to see Connies concerned looks. But most of all you don’t want to see the way Jimin will brighten as he speaks about her. He’s known her for less than 10 minutes yet you can picture the wide smile on his face, the glint in his eye, as he speaks about someone new that he’s found a spark with. You’ve witnessed it a hundred times and you don’t want to witness any more. Your beer is far more interesting than any of that. Unfortunately, your ears couldn’t vacate the story so easily.

“Ah, Izzy?” Jimin starts and you hear an interested hum from Jin. “She seemed nice. I was just asking her if she was enjoying working here.”

“It looked like a very enthralling conversation,” Jin continues to dig. You knew he wasn’t doing it out of spite, he found it funny to hear about Jimin and his many girls, it was just something your group did. Plus, there was the whole bet, you knew that he would try and encourage Jimin if it came down to it, all in the name of winning.

“Well I’m a very dazzling person, it’s hard not to laugh with me,” you can picture the almost arrogant smile on his face. Another reason you loved Jimin was his knowledge of his self-worth. It could come across that he was full of himself sometimes, but you always admired it, he just knew who he was and he loved himself. Confidence was sexy in your eyes.

“Laugh at you more like,” Jin mumbles loud enough for the table to hear.

“Answer time,” the announcer cuts through your conversation. “If you could all swap your sheets with another table I will start reading out the answers and then we will announce the winners.”

There’s some talking and rustling around the pub as tables try and get another teams answer sheet.

“I’ll take ours over there on my way to the toilet,” you stand up and reach for your answer sheet not waiting for any form of agreement from your team.

You catch Jimins eyes as you turn to leave, a concerned look in his eye, the wide smile you love no longer on his face. You wish you could stay and decipher what the look means, but you turn and continue on your journey to the toilet. Mentally filing the look under things to over analyse when alone.

Exchanging your quiz sheets with another team you head into the empty toilets. You need 5 minutes on your own, maybe a splash of cold water on your face to bring you back to reality.

You loved your quiz nights, loved the friendly banter you all shared, loved getting a little tipsy on a Thursday night knowing you still had work the next day that you had to get through. But it was always tough seeing Jimin so openly flirt with any girl that had a pulse, yet treat you as if you were Jin or Yoongi, a friend who was more like a sibling. There was one time that someone assumed the two of you were a couple and the look of disgust that fell over his face nearly broke your heart. It was made that little bit worse when he occasionally turned his charms on Connie, yet never seemed to do that to you. What was ok about her that wasn’t about you?

You’d been friends with Jimin longer than you had had a crush on him. You’d gone to the same school, though you only hold vague memories of him there, the two of you not actually friends per se. If someone was to mention his name you’d have been able to point him out of a line up, maybe recall a few funny stories, but that was it.

You’d gone to separate universities, though you stayed friends with a lot of school friends so heard stories of things he got up to. You would always listen with a mild interest, you enjoyed hearing what people were up to, how the people you went to school with were succeeding in life. But again, he was never someone you would describe as a friend.

After university you moved back to your home town, Jimin and a few others from you school doing the same. And that’s when your friendship started. All back in the same place, you found you started getting invited to parties and gatherings that Jimin also went to. A group of you formed, and you found yourself growing closer to Jimin.

You always found him good looking, he was one of those boys in school that every girl lusted after, that would be a hot topic of discussion at sleepovers. But you weren’t someone that held crushes on people just because of their looks. And then you got to know Jimin and realised that it wasn’t just his looks that made him attractive, if anything they were just an added benefit. You could finally see why everyone was so infatuated by him, because you yourself were heading that way.

He was happy and kind and generous and put everyone else before himself. He was confident and chatty and always had a funny story to tell. He was the person that people turned to in the search for a good time. But then he also knew how to chill and watch a film and order an unhealthy takeaway. He seemed like the whole package, because he was.

If anything the only thing that put you off Jimin was his lack of commitment. You knew that he had had a semi-serious girlfriend during university, but even that had lasted all of 6 months. He went through girls like they were chocolate bars and he just wanted to try them all.

But stood staring at yourself in the mirror was not helping the situation in any way. Especially when the man was on the other side of the brick wall, probably thinking about how he was going to take a pretty bartender home. You’ve lived with your crush this long, tried to push it down into the depths of your soul, you could learn to do that a bit longer.

You wash your hands under cold water, hoping it will help calm you down as well as waste a bit more time.

Ultimately you just didn’t want to ruin your friendship. The classic I’d rather be his friend than nothing at all. Plus, it wasn’t just you and Jimin’s relationship at stake, what about Jin and Yoongi and Connie and everyone else that were both your friend and Jimins friend? You would hate to think that they would have to choose sides if anything went wrong. Sure, there’s the whole, you could end on good terms and still be friends, but really how often did that happen?

Even if by some miracle Jimin did suddenly want to jump your bones, you weren’t even sure what you would do. I mean sex was great and all, but that’s not what you wanted from Jimin. Well, you wanted it, but you wanted more than just sex. Yet, Jimins reputation proved that he wanted anything but a relationship outside of sex.

You slap some of the cold water from your hands on your face. None of this even mattered because it was never going to happen.

Leaving the toilets you head back to the table. The answers are nearly finished by the time you take your seat. Jimin immediately looks at you, the concerned look from earlier still on his face. You give him a small smile that you are sure does anything to reassure whatever he is worried about.

“You’ve missed some absolute corker's Y/N,” Jin speaks up when he notices you in your seat. “Who the hell knew that Georg Solti won the most Grammys ever? Who the hell even knows who Georg Solti is? Not us. Safe to say, we’re bombing it.”

You laugh rolling your eyes.

“And finally, I asked what do ABBA, Spice Girls, Queen and Take That, all have in common? Of course, it’s that they have all had musicals made from their music.”

There’s a few groans as people hear the answer, a rippling of cheers from the ones who gave the right answer.

“Jesus, Take That have two musicals? What’s the world coming to?” Jin shakes in disbelief.

“I think the awards answer was better,” you give Jimin a smile and are rewarded with one of his full beams.

“Right that’s it folks, if you can return your answer sheets then we will announce the winner.”

More rustling as teams exchange their answer sheets, yours is given to Yoongi whose eyes flick over the page that’s been handed to him.

“Well, 35 out of 50 isn’t terrible.”

“May as well head home now,” Connie replies.

“Are we not staying for another?” Jimin lifts up his still half full pint.

Jin raises his eyebrows at you with a knowing smirk. You try to return it, but struggle. He has his bet in mind and the idea makes your stomach turn.

“I’ll stay for another,” Jin agrees and the Connie and Yoongi agree too, Jin being their lift home.

“Y/N?” Jimin looks at you expectantly.

“Sure,” you shrug. You normally stay a bit after the quiz anyway as your house is only a short walk from the pub, and really you had no excuse even if you wanted to go home.

You all settle in for another hour of drinking, Yoongi offering to get the next round. The bartender becomes forgotten at some point, Jimin makes no effort to go and talk to her again and no one brings up the fact. You all easily talk and laugh and you just fall into the easiness of your small friendship group.

You say your goodbyes at the door, Yoongi, Jin and Connie going in one direction and you and Jimin heading in the other. It was only a 10 minute walk to your house but every week Jimin insisted on walking you home. It was only a small detour for him, and the one week you had told him you’d be fine on your own had caused him to give you such a big lecture on walking home alone that you never brought it up again.

That’s why your bet was that if Jimin ever slept with Izzy, it wouldn’t be after a quiz night. Unless you weren’t there. Because you knew he would always walk you home, and you doubt he would bring his hook up for the night on the journey.

It’s only when you say goodnight to him and watch him walk under the street lights down your road that you fully remember the bet and that he left the pub alone, with seemingly no number. Opening up your group chat with Jin and Connie you add Yoongi as a member.

Y/N: I believe you owe us drinks next week.

Connie: Don’t forget the packet of crisps. I will be having mini cheddars.

Y/N: Mini cheddars is a poor choice, but thanks for the reminder.

Yoongi: Do we also get to pick the drink?

Yoongi: I’ll have their top shelf whisky.

Y/N: Do pretzels count as crisps? I’ll have a packet of those.

Jin: I’ll take orders at the quiz next week.

Y/N: Someone’s grumpy they lost.

Yoongi: He’s currently star-fishing on the living room floor staring into the abyss that is the ceiling.

Connie: I can almost hear the dramatic huffing from here.

Jin: I wish I never invited you to the quiz.

Jin: I can’t wait to accept the other losers' payments.

Yoongi: Well I can’t wait to win.

You wake up to your alarm blaring on your night stand. Blindly you pat around for it in an attempt to silence it. Once the noise finally stops you let out a groan and roll over in your bed. You wish you could lie there all day, let the covers surround you and just sleep. But you have work and the dehydration from drinking was bad enough that you feel the need to get up in search of water.

Every Friday you have this problem, the quiz is great and all, but a Thursday night? Every Friday you promise yourself that next week you will only have one alcoholic drink and call it a night. And every Thursday that follows that statement, you break it.

Your job was easy enough that you could blindly sit at your desk and rifle through the few tasks you were given and not raise too many eyes. A mere 8 hours was all you had to get through to make it to the weekend.

Dragging yourself out of bed you get ready for work, downing a pint of water in the process. By the time you walk out your door you feel slightly more human though still stop for coffee on your commute. Two shots of expresso and a toasted tea cake was only going to help this situation, right?

Your office was only small, a grand total of five people sharing the space that held a small kettle and microwave in one corner that’s described as a kitchen. It was both a blessing and a hinderance. It was nice to know everyone, to be able to talk openly about work and any troubles you had, but it was also annoying that everyone knew everything about everyone. There seemed to be no privacy, no conversation unheard in the space, office gossip became that much juicier when you actually know who Julie from accounting was and can’t talk about the affair her husband is having while stood at the printer because she is sat only 5 meters away, crying her eyes out.

“You look like hell.” Are the first words you hear when you collapse into your seat. Another reason it’s not great working in such a small office, people seem to think that they are closer to you when there are only 4 other people to talk to at work. It seems some sort of barrier disappears where people feel like they can say anything to you.

“Ignore Jon, I think you look nice,” Steph jumps in, coming to stand by your desk.

“Thanks Steph.”

“Did you finally win last night then?”

“We weren’t bottom, so that’s an improvement,” you smile at her. “Though that’s not saying much when the only people below us look like their combined ages wouldn’t add up to make them legally old enough to buy a drink. I think the question about John Prescot went right over their heads.”

“Ah, the youth,” Steph does a mock wistful look into the distance. Steph wasn’t much older than you, but she seemed a lot older purely due to her having a husband and two children. You were at different stages in life, but working together had caused you to bond over shared interests. “And how was Seagull?”

Working in such a small office and everyone listening to your conversations had caused you both to come up with a secret code when talking about particular topics. Seagull was Jimin, so called because of you recounting a story about a time when a seagull pooed on him when Steph realised you liked him as more than just a friend. Even with 99.9% of the population knowing about your crush you had sworn her to secrecy and she came up with the idea of the code name; you never know what ears are listening and even though no one knows Jimin, you worried it would somehow get back to him. You couldn’t risk anything. Steph was the only person you openly spoke to about your feelings towards the man.

“Ah, Seagull,” you sigh. “There’s a new bartender than Jin is convinced he’s going to hook up with.” You try to ignore the pang your heart gives when saying the words.

“And he can deduce that after one meeting?”

“You don’t know Jin,” you roll your eyes. “Or seagull for that matter.”

“True. I only know what you tell me, but I’d have a bit more faith in him if I was you.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway. It’s his life, he’s free to do whatever or whoever he wants.”

“Just so long as it’s not in front of you?”

You scrunch up your face in displeasure. “Preferably, but I don’t think I have that sort of honour.”

“I’m still team tell him,” Steph replies. “It doesn’t have to be a grand gesture or anything, just put it down on the table and if he decides not to pick it up then that’s that. You’ll know, he’ll know, you can move on and thing’s don’t have to be weird.”

You hum. This was something that Steph always petitioned for you to do. And you would be lying if you said you didn’t see the logic. You had actually come close to taking the advice once, talked yourself up enough to have the courage and then just as you were about to say the words to him you chickened out.

“Maybe,” you give a non-comitial answer.

“I think you’re forgetting that there is also a chance that maybe he feels the same way about you.”

“If that were true then why has nothing ever happened?”

“Maybe he’s just as scared as you. Maybe you need to be the brave one in this situation.”

“Fine, next time I get the chance, I’ll say something,” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth, especially when you see the way Steph's face lights up.

It was a heavy chat for a Friday morning, especially when you felt a bit fragile. Your boss Betty walked into the office at that point too, so Steph gives a final sentence that is vaguely related to work to make it seem you weren’t just chatting about personal issues and then she is off.

The whole day her words ring in your head. What if she was right? What if you needed to be the one to step forward and make the first move?

But then when you think of Jimin and his confidence and the easy way he talks to woman, it seems impossible he wouldn’t be able to talk to you about his feelings. It was Jimin for Christ’s sake. It seemed impossible to imagine him feeling insecure or nervous about anything.

You couldn’t deny that she had a point, that even if it wasn’t about confidence or the fact that Jimin may or may not like you in the same way you like him, you should tell him. And you’ve already admitted that the whole world knows about you're not so little crush on the man, so how hard could it be to tell one more person? The least you could do was think on it. And maybe if the opportunity presented itself, you could tell him.

“Question eight.”

It was the next week of the pub quiz and you are already 3 pints deep, the bag of pretzels Jin had bought you not doing much to soak up the alcohol. You are feeling happy, erring on the side of tipsy, but a long way off drunk.

“Alfred Pennyworth is the butler to which superhero? Alfred Pennyworth is the butler to which superhero?”

“Pennyworth? Is that really his surname?” You ask.

“What’s wrong with Pennyworth?” Jimin shoots back defensively, while Yoongi scribbles down the answer with no help. It was turning into a one-man team.

“Isn’t that the name of that freaky clown?”

“That’s Pennywise,” Jimin laughs, light dancing in his eyes.

“Y/N has a point, they’re a bit too similar for my liking. Plus, doesn’t Alfred have access to the bat cave which must be underground, just like Pennywise’s lair,” Jin jumps in.

“See,” you point at Jin while you look at Jimin who’s face holds a fond smile.

“Alfred is just a nice old man, leave him alone,” Jimin laughs.

“Nice old man my ass,” you try to say it in a serious voice but end up laughing at the end.

“Question nine,” the quiz host’s voice booms through the chatter and it causes a rippling effect, the whole room going silent waiting for the question. “What is Zoolander's first name?”

“Zoo,” Jin jumps in.

“Zoo Zoolander?” Yoongi scrunches up his face looking displeased.

“Oh my god, I know this,” Connie excitedly taps her hands on the table, her bum jumping up and down on her seat. You all look at her waiting for her answer. “It’s Michael.”

There’s a pause while you all take in her answer and then Jimin breaks it by laughing.

“I’m sorry,” he says while trying to calm down. “It’s a good answer really.”

“What?” Connies face no longer holds excitement, instead her mouth is pouted as she looks around the table at you all.

“His name’s Derek,” Yoongi says softly before writing the answer.

Connie sighs a little oh, but doesn’t look overly embarrassed by her wrong answer.

“And last question of the round, and the quiz tonight,” the familiar voice shouts out, gaining silence once again. “What is the main pub called in Peaky Blinders where the Shelby’s meet? Again, we will have a short break before doing the answers and then announcing the winners.”

“Jesus Christ, how is anybody supposed to know this stuff,” Jimin shakes his head.

“Isn’t it the Winchester?” You suggest.

“That’s Shaun of the Dead,” Jimin instantly corrects you.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not also where the Shelby’s meet,” you throw back, gaining a Jimin smile that makes your heart flutter.

“I reckon the Crown,” Jin cuts across whatever look you and Jimin were sharing, drawing your attention to him.

“But that’s this pub?” Connie says.

“Doesn’t mean it’s not also where the Shelby’s meet,” Jin throws back your words and then casts you a cheeky smile that you only roll your eyes at.

“Yoongi? What you got?” Jimin asks.

“Peaky blinders isn’t really my thing,” he shrugs.

“He finds it too scary. All that shooting and all those nasty men,” Jin gives a fake shudder. “No, Yoongi much prefers the Teletubbies. Much more his intellect.”

Jin lets out a squeaky laugh at his own joke, while Yoongi casts him a look that, again, makes you fear for Jin’s safety. You wonder how they have managed to live together for so long.

“Let’s just go with the Chase or the Fox, some generic pub name that could be right,” you steer the conversation back to the question.

Yoongi scribbles some answer down and then slaps the pen on the table as if to signify you’re done.

“Right, my round?” Connie stands up and doesn’t even wait for confirmation before heading to the bar.

“Do you guys ever think we drink too much at the quiz? It is a Thursday night after all,” you think back to waking up dehydrated last week and struggling through the work day the next day.

“Don’t say you’re going soft on us now Y/N,” Jimin says.

“It’s a sign of getting old I’m afraid,” Jin chips in. “How old are you now Y/N?”

“My age is none of your concern,” you narrow your eyes at him. “I was merely saying, why is it only on a Thursday night we drink so much?”

“Is this an invitation for a night out?” Jimins says, sitting straighter in his chair.

“I’m busy,” Yoongi says.

“She hasn’t even given a date,” Jimin replies.

“Yes, but me and Yoongi are very busy people,” Jin says.

“You? Busy?” You laugh.

“Don’t act so surprised, I am a very popular man I’ll have you know.”

“Name one person you’re friends with.”

“Yoongi.” He says immediately after your question, crossing his arms defensively.

“Someone that isn’t sat at this table.”

“Connie,” he says just as quickly and you roll your eyes.

“Someone not in this pub,” you try again.

“Joon,” he gives you a knowing smirk, almost as bait for you to keep going.

“Fine,” you sigh, giving up. “I don’t even know why I’m trying.”

“Well, I’m not busy. When are we going?” Jimin says.

“Oh,” your attention is torn away from Jin to look at Jimin. “I didn’t actually – I was just saying – I more meant that a – I wasn’t actually asking for a night out,” you stumble over your words as you look at Jimins expecting face.

“You two should go, don’t let us stop you,” Jin says and when you turn back to him he has a smile on his face that shows there’s an alternative motive. You shoot him a look that you hope tells him to shut up.

“I wouldn’t want to go on a night out with just Jimin. I’d be abandoned as soon as we walked into the club for some tall skinny blonde.”

As soon as you say the words you know you’ve been way too harsh. Looking at Jimins face you can see he’s hurt. The words may ring true to a certain extent, but you also saw the lie, Jimin would never just leave you on your own. Sure, if you were with other people maybe he’d go off with others, but never if it was just the two of you. He still walks you home after the pub quiz to make sure you get home safe on a 10 minute walk for Christ's sake, he would never abandon you in a club.

Your eyes widen in shock at your own words and at the fact you’ve hurt Jimins feelings. It may be an insecurity you had, that he would never choose you romantically over literally anyone else, but you didn’t want him knowing that. Guilt flows through you and you open your mouth to take back the statement but Jimin beats you.

“I would never leave you alone if I was going out with you,” his words mirror your thoughts, a small crease appears on his forehead as he looks at you.

“I know, I just -”

“No one would ever make me want to not spend the night with you. I’d love to go on a night out with you, and it would be a night out with you, Y/N, not some dumb tall skinny blonde.”

You nod your head, heat coursing through you at the words, wishing they meant more than just you were friends, wanting to believe he wouldn’t say the exact same words to Jin or Yoongi or Connie, but knowing he would. You open your mouth to speak again, to try and reassure him that you didn’t mean what you said, but again you’re interrupted, this time by Connie placing a tray of drinks on the table.

“I think I got there at the perfect time,” Connie hands out the drinks, oblivious to the slight tension around the table. “I also think it helped that Izzy is working tonight. I think she recognised me as being on your team so served me quicker. Hoping I’d put in a good word I bet,” she nudges Jimins arm when she’s sat down.

“Right,” Jimin mumbles in to his beer as a reply.

You see Jin shoot Yoongi a look, raising his eyebrows in question. Connie’s statement also brings back the bet you all had. Of course, Connie had said she thought Jimin would take Izzy home tonight. The thought and how Jimin reacted to your harsh words has your heart sinking. You down the rest of your old drink and pick up the new one Connie brought over as the quiz host takes his stand at the front of the room.

“Answer time,” he shouts, stopping conversations in their tracks.

He runs through the answers and you give little attention to what he’s saying, sipping your beer instead. Jimin seems to be over your comment already, laughing at something Jin said, but you can’t help but threat over it. No matter what your feelings were towards Jimin, you knew he would never just leave you for someone he didn’t know. Hell, that’s why you had bet that if he was going to get with Izzy it would be after meeting up outside of the pub. You doubt he would leave the pub with her because he always walked you home, he wouldn’t not do that. And you doubt he would bring Izzy to your door before then going onto his, that would definitely cramp his style.

Jimin cared for you, he cared for all his friends, and you hate to think that you implied you didn’t know that.

“You know I think we’re doing alright this week,” you’re brought back at Jin words, your beer almost finished at this point. “Who needs Joon?”

“What was his excuse this week?” Connie asks.

“His girlfriend’s down for the week,” Jin shakes his head as if shamed by the information.

There’s a collective eye roll around the table at Jins lack of care for Namjoons private life.

“And finally, I asked what the pub is called in Peaky Blinders. Of course, it’s The Garrison Tavern.”

“Knew it,” Jin mutters under his breath, loud enough for the table to hear.

“Convenient you didn’t say earlier,” you shoot at him

“Right, if you could tally up the scores and give your papers back to the correct team,” the host speaks over Jins reply.

Yoongi grabs your answer sheet. “Up from last week, but I doubt enough to score that winning prize. Finally broke 40 though, just, we got 41.”

“Commisery pint?” Jimin asks.

“Ah, I can’t, got a big meeting in the morning. Gotta be fresh for it,” Jin says.

“He’s my lift,” Yoongi shrugs.

“And mine,” Connie chips in.

All eyes fall on you awaiting a response. Jimin looks hopeful, but after your earlier comment you can almost see that he expects you to decline.

“I can have another,” you say and watch as eyebrows raise around the table like dominoes. “Or we could have one at mine?” You shrug as if it’s no big deal, but your heart pounds in your chest. “Would be cheaper.”

If possible, the eyebrows raise even higher, Connies disappearing behind her full fringe, Jins mouth popping open. It makes you more nervous, but you remind yourself that it should be normal, you and Jimin hang out just the two of you all the time. He lives close to you, works just around the corner, you occasionally have lunch together, have had takeaways just the two of you. It shouldn’t be weird or out of the ordinary, yet it feels it.

“Great idea, let’s do that,” Jimin claps his hands together and it’s as if he breaks a spell, the faces around the table dropping back into their earlier, non-shocked expressions.

You all diligently finish off your drinks while the quiz host announces the winner by counting down from 50, “who has 49?”, with 41 you know you don’t stand a chance so there’s no point in hanging around. At the door you all give your usual goodbyes, shouts of “text us when you’re home”, and then you’re walking down the street.

It’s strange how it’s a weekly occurrence, Jimin and you walking side by side with the destination being your home, yet tonight it feels so different. Probably because you know he is going to walk through the front door with you and not just carry on walking. You feel instantly sober at the thought, not that you were particularly drunk before, but now your thoughts feel so much clearer. Did you remember to put your washing away? Were those dirty dishes still in the sink? You’d offered him a drink but you had no beers in, only spirits with barely any mixers, should you mention that now or would it look like you were backing out? What about that dying plant you had in the corner, you meant to dispose of it weeks ago but had just left it to continue withering in the corner, was he going to judge you for it, should you try and get rid of it now before he saw it?

“It’s been a while since I came into your house,” Jimin drags you out of your thoughts, your eyes darting to him to find his gaze already on you, a small smile on his lips.

“It’s not changed much, probably exactly as you remember,” you smile back at him, glad for the distraction from your thoughts.

“Still have that hideous painting?” His smile turns, becoming cheeky as you narrow your eyes at him.

“Yes,” you reply. Jimin seemed to take some sort of personal offense at a painting you had in your home, as soon as he saw it he made it clear how much he hated it, and then every time since he has never failed to mention it. “It’s hanging proudly in my living room. Pride of place,” you struggle to keep the smile from your lips as you look at him.

Jimin lets out a hum, looking back to the path in front of you.

“I guess I should warn you,” you draw his eyes back to you. “I wasn’t expecting visitors so the place may be a bit of a state. I know I also offered drinks, but I only have spirits in and a limited supply of mixer. Host of the year, I know,” you let out a nervous laugh. “We could stop by a shop for something, or I guess turn back to the pub? Or we don’t have to -”

“Y/N,” Jimin's hand lands on your shoulder, stopping your rambles. “I’m sure it’s fine,” his smile simultaneously lessens your nervous while also making your heart flop in your chest. “I can always run to the shop if you really have nothing. But come on, you know me, I’d be up for doing shots.”

You laugh at his words. Good God, how is it possible for someone to be so beautiful and also so nice. It’s like the Gods were playing some sort of cruel game when they made him.

“Shots on a Thursday night, now you’re just asking for trouble.”

“Don’t forget that I know you Y/N. Don’t pretend like you’re above doing it.”

Another wicked smile is thrown your way and you wonder whether he is trying to kill you or whether it is just how Jimin is. Is he aware of how dangerous his smiles are? Because he should really be made aware of it, one of these days he is going to stop someone's heart with a simple look, and you are currently very high up the list of those someone’s.

“Well,” you are glad that your house comes into view, your door and house saving you from having to come up with a comeback.

Unlocking your door you zoom into the house, kicking off your shoes and leaving the door open for Jimin. You trust him to find his way into the living room while you dash around and collect the stray items littering the room. Hands full of a couple of mugs and the bowl you had breakfast in, you head towards the kitchen, passing Jimin lingering in the living room door way. He watches you move around the room, an amused smile on his face.

“You really don’t need to clean up for me,” he says.

You ignore him as you walk into the kitchen, dumping the bowl and mugs in the sink before looking at what booze you can offer. As expected, there is slim pickings.

“There is mostly gin, which I can offer with some possibly flat lemonade, or there is a bit of rum or I’m sure I can dig out a bottle of wine from somewhere,” you shout over your shoulder so Jimin can hear.

“Gin and flat lemonade sounds great,” Jimin says the words far closer than you expect and when you turn you see him leaning on the door frame watching you.

You heat with embarrassment, though you don’t know why, it seems to just be your natural instinct when around Jimin, especially when it is clear his eyes watch your every move. Under his scrutiny, you go into the cupboard to grab some glasses, making sure they’re your nice ones, before filling them with ice.

“Single or double?” You ask him and he seems to take the question as an invitation to walk into the room.

Now stood next to you he looks down with a knowing smile. “Really? What’s the point in a single?”

You nod at him, a smile toying the edges of your lips. Picking up one of the nicer gins you start to pour them out while Jimin starts to riffle through your alcohol bottles.

“You’re holding out on me Y/N,” Jimin holds up a tequila bottle up to you in explanation.

“Oh, sorry. I don’t have anything to mix with it, though I guess lemonade wouldn’t be terrible if you want?”

“Who said anything about a mixer?” The cheeky smile is back on his face.

“You were serious? It’s a Thursday night Jimin. Some of us have work tomorrow.”

“It will be fine,” he says, starting to riffle through your cupboard for shot glasses. Looks like you had little to no say on the matter. “We’re just having one. Or maybe two. We’ll be fine. Just call in sick if you need to.”

“Some of us have jobs we can’t just call in sick for,” you shoot back, but don’t protest when Jimin starts to pour out two shots.

“Well some of us will just have to suck it up then,” Jimin holds out the full shot glass to you.

Again, you take it without any complaints. “Are we really doing this? No lemon or salt or anything?”

“You’re the host,” his lip curl at the edges showing his amusement.

Another roll of your eyes and you hold up your shot glass to him as a silent answer. He clinks his shot glass against yours and then you’re throwing the liquid back into your mouth. You scowl at the taste, you are far to sober to be doing shots, but Jimin doesn’t even seem to flinch.

“Now that’s over, come on,” you pick up the two gin and lemonades you’d poured and move past Jimin into your living room.

He follows you, plopping down into the sofa next to you and taking the drink you offer with a thanks. You watch as his eyes take in the room, you can see that he’s trying not to look too nosy, taking everything in with wide eyes, but not lingering too long on any one item. While you look around your room trying to work out what it would look like from his eyes. Probably a mess of too many items, your shelves full of weird items that you have collected over the years and can’t bear to part with.

“I like the gnome,” he nods his head to your fireplace where a stuffed gnome sits, long legs dangling off the ledge.

“Sharon,” you reply and watch as Jimins lip tweaks up in the corner. “She’s very nosy,” you explain the name, looking at said gnome whose massive nose sticks out into the room. This comment causes the edges of Jimins lips to curl further into a smile and a bubble of satisfaction swells inside you at the thought that you caused that.

“And the flowers, they’re nice. From anyone special?” You don’t miss the digging in his question and hope swells within you.

“If I’m classed as someone special, then yes, they were from someone very special.”

He hums into his glass taking a sip so you can’t read his expression. But the hope lingers. Why would he ask that if not for personal interest? Because he’s a friend and friends ask each other personal questions, you answer your own question silently. But then, you were exactly that, friends, friends who attended a weekly pub quiz together, surely if you had a significant other he would know. So maybe he is asking for himself, making sure that he isn’t stepping on anyone's toes. The thought makes you heat up.

Stephs words from the other day ring in your head. You should tell him how you feel. You said you would tell him if an opportunity ever arose, and surely this was the opportunity. But you don’t even know how to begin. How do you tell someone you like them? How do you tell a friend that you like them as more than just a friend? Do you just come out and say it? Do you try and play coy and drop hints in the hope they pick them up?

One thing was for sure, you would need a lot more alcohol to even consider the possibility of uttering any words on that topic to him.

“You know, I will never understand your obsession for Gilmore Girls,” Jimin says, eyeing up you DVD collection.

“And I will never understand your obsession for Friends,” you shoot back.

His mouth falls open in offence as his eyes dart to yours. “Take that back. It’s a modern masterpiece.”

“If a TV show has a laugh track, then it’s not funny. They shouldn’t have to tell me when I need to laugh.”

“Friends?”

You raise your eyebrows, not saying a word, but answering his question in doing so.

“Maybe I should just leave now,” he mocks.

“Anyone not a fan of Gilmore Girls isn’t welcome in this house anyway, so works for me.”

Jimin laughs while you try to remain straight faced, having to take a sip of your drink to hide your twitching lips.

“This is why we make such a good quiz team.”

Now you truly laugh. Jimin could only look at you with a fond smile as a loud laugh escapes you.

“Now I know you’re lying. As much as I hate to say it, we all know Jin carries the team.”

“Jesus, never say that to him.”

“As if. I mean now Yoongi’s finally come through at least we can say he carries the team.”

“I don’t know if that’s a better option. Why can’t we just say that I carry it?”

You give him a look that says really? And you can see he is fighting a smile.

“Fine. Well it will have to be you then because it certainly isn’t Connie,” Jimin tries again.

“I’m not sure about that.”

“Why?” Jimin looks genuinely puzzled. “You’re smart and get answers no one else does all the time. You were the one that got that question on quantum physics right.”

“It was about the planets,” you laugh, though you are surprised he remembered any of this. You wouldn’t have thought that Jimin could remember much about the quiz and what answers you gave, he always seemed to be there for a laugh, and more because of Jin and Namjoon’s (and now Yoongi’s) presence than yours. But maybe he took more notice of you than you realised. “And I only got that right because I’d seen a program Brian Cox did.”

“Smart,” Jimin replies as if he’s not listened to a word you’ve just said. “Only smart people watch shows like that.”

“Whatever you say,” you shake your head, pretending the words went straight through you and didn’t actually go straight to your heart. Jimin thinks you’re smart. It wasn’t the biggest or best compliment in the world, but it still meant so much to you.

The man you’ve had a crush on for God knows how long. Who you thought didn’t pay that much attention to you, who only hung around with you because you were friends with his friends, took more notice of you than you thought. But that didn’t really mean anything. Just because he could remember an answer you gave in a quiz doesn’t mean he’s in love with you. You attempt to push the hopeful thoughts away as you down the rest of your Gin and Lemonade.

“Want another?” You ask, though Jimin still has some of his drink left.

You watch as he throws his head back, downing the rest of his drink much like you downed your own. Watch as his Adams apple bobs in his throat. You can’t take your eyes off his neck in fact, so much so that when Jimins face comes back down to look at you, another cheeky smile appears on his lips showing he has caught you watching him.

You stand up and head to the kitchen to avoid having to acknowledging anything. This was supposed to be your opportunity to tell him everything, and yet here you are running. Steph would slap you if she were here.

“Another shot?” You hadn’t realised Jimin had followed you until he speaks.

Turning to look over your shoulder, there he stands. And maybe it’s the alcohol, or maybe you would have reacted the same way if you had had nothing to drink, but you can’t help but just stare. Leaning against the door frame you can see the strong curves of his body, showing that even though he isn’t as tall or broad as Jin, he is still as powerful. Powerful, but with delicate features, pretty but manly.

Jimin pushes off the wall to stand at his full height before slowly walking towards you. You flush, realising you haven’t even replied to him, have simply just gawked at him for God knows how long. And the small, but cocky smile on his face shows he knows exactly what you were thinking as you looked at him.

You turn away from him as he gets near, hoping hiding your face will help to conceal how flustered you are. He only stops when his arm brushes against yours.

“As much as I loved the flat lemonade, I’d prefer a shot,” his words don’t hold any malice.

You can only watch as he pours out the liquid into the shot glasses you used before. He holds the glass out for you to take, and due to its size, your fingers overlap his as you take it from him. A small touch, something you wouldn’t even think about if he was anyone else. But he wasn’t anyone else. It was Jimin, and your skin heats at every point that he touches.

You barely have the glass in your hand before you’re knocking it back and downing the liquid. A light, surprised laugh leaves Jimins lips as he watches you, before he follows suit.

“Can I ask you a question?” Jimin pauses waiting for you to answer and when you turn to look at him he is leaning on the counter staring down at you.

“Of course,” you reply.

He stays silent a beat even after you answer and you use the time to lean against the counter yourself, trying to look more casual than you feel. Every beat of silence makes your heart beat harder anticipating what he’s about to ask.

“Have you and Jin ever...” his words trail off, and if it weren’t for his casual posture and tone of voice you would say he was flustered.

Your face automatically scrunches in confusion at his words, picking apart the five words he’s said as if it will make it any clearer what he’s trying to ask.

“Ever what?” You ask.

“You know.” You most certainly don’t, and when that suddenly becomes clear to Jimin he lets out a small sigh. “Have you ever hooked up, or thought about it? You just seem really close, and I don’t know I thought maybe...” his voice drifts off again.

You and Jin. Jin and you. However you say it, it sounds wrong.

What the hell is Jimin talking about. Even though he cleared the confusion up, it seems to have made everything murkier in your mind. Maybe that second shot was a bad idea after all.

“Me and Jin?” You say the words out loud and it makes it sound even weirder. “You think me and Jin are dating?”

“Not dating,” Jimin lets out a small chuckle at the words. “It just seems like there might be something, or was something, or could be something?”

“I thought you and Jin were good friends?”

“We are.”

“So surely you’d know from him that we’re just friends?”

Jimins shoulders rise and fall lightly in a shrug, and again you have to think that if it wasn’t for everything he was outwardly projecting, you would say he was bothered by this conversation. It felt like he was suppressing and hiding something, but you felt too confused and not with it to figure it out.

“You two always seem so close at the pub quiz. I don’t know, I just wondered if you liked him like that?”

Your mind was ringing. You have to wonder where the hell this all came from. How did this conversation even start? Your brain feels like it’s scrambled.

“Did Jin get you to ask this?” It’s the only reason you can think of as to why he’d be asking this. But Jin knows that you like Jimin, and surely Jin doesn’t like you as more than a friend.

“No,” Jimin lets out a small laugh again that you now realise is him trying to hide how much this conversation it affecting him.

“Because I like you, not Jin.”

It feels like the world stops spinning on its axes. The room goes eerily quiet after your words, even the noise from outside seems to have stopped. It all makes the ringing in your head that much louder.

Of everything that has been said so far, Jimin had not reacted to any of them, or if he did there were at least cool and calculated. Now, he stands taught and stiff, as if you’ve just pulled out a gun and are now pointing it in his direction. Though he still slightly leans on the counter, it now looks like he’s having to use it to stay up right rather than to lounge on.

“What?” His voice also sounds like he had to force it to leave his throat.

Eyes wide, you search Jimins face. At least he’s not running. Though that might be more because of the shock he is currently experiencing than anything else. In mere minutes, when his brain catches up, he’ll probably be out of here like a shot.

You grapple with what to say. This was not the way that you had planned to tell him, not that you had really planned to tell him at all, but if you had, it would certainly not have been like this. You want to blame him for making you slip up, all that nonsense about Jin, you were bound to say something. And the alcohol, you were still in your right frame of mind, didn’t feel anywhere near drunk, but your tongue and brain were looser, more likely to say something you’d regret. This being case and point.

But now you have decide what to say. You could pretend that you said something else. Or say you’re more drunk than you actually are and blame it on the shots (aka him). You could pretend to forget what you even said. Or just deny all knowledge if he keeps asking. But you know that you shouldn’t do any of that. Really, you don’t even want to. It is scary and you it makes you prone to heartache, but Steph was right, you should just tell him.

“I – uh – I like you?” It comes out less sure and more like a question as nerves bubble inside you.

Theres a beat or two of silence again and you can almost see the clogs turning in Jimins head. It only stretches on a second or two, but you can’t take it, your heart beating too fast, the nerves building up within you, your brain telling you that the silence means rejection. You have to fill it, so you start rambling.

“I like you,” the words come out more certain than last time. “But that doesn’t mean I expect you to return the feelings. In fact, I know you don’t and I’m fine with that. I’ve been friends with you for a while now and I’m happy just continuing how we are, nothing has to be weird or anything. We can just pretend I never said anything.”

A small crease appears between his eyebrows as you speak and you can almost see him snapping out of the daze he is in.

“Why would I want to forget about it?” He asks. “And why would you think I don’t return the feelings?”

He says it so blasé, that it throws you off.

“Because you don’t?” You almost stutter the words out.

The confidence slowly seeps back into him. He no longer stands stiff, but tall and loose limbed. Though his face remains neutral, the ghost of a smile lingers on his lips as he looks at you. It’s like he’s a cat eyeing up a mouse, and you’re the mouse that’s about to be eaten. You almost audibly gulp as he slides an inch closer to you, leaving only a small gap of air between you.

“And why wouldn’t I? You’re smart, and funny, and beautiful. You’re my friend Y/N, but that doesn’t stop me looking at you and wishing for more.”

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted to hear him say, everything you’ve ever dreamed of. And here he is, saying it. It doesn’t feel real.

“But – you never even look at me, not like you look at all the other girls.”

“What are you on about?” He laughs, displaying his white teeth. “Of course I look at you like all those other girls. Maybe you never see because my gaze always tends to be directed at your great ass.”

You heat at the words, flustered all over again. Sensing how he is making you feel, a cheeky grin appears on Jimins face as he slides impossibly closer, while still not fully touching you. You can feel the heat coming off him, can feel the ghost of his body, but can’t full feel him.

You look everywhere but him. You can't bear to look him in the eyes. Though he is saying everything you wished, it’s only making you feel like this was a bad idea, though you don’t know why. You want to run away from this, but instead remain rooted to the spot. Maybe this is why you’d never openly admitted your feelings for him, because as scary as it was for him to tell you that he didn’t feel the same, it was also incredibly scary for him to say he did feel the same. You could comprehend heartache and getting turned down. It would have hurt, but you would have known where you stood and the journey ahead. This feels more like a step into the unknown. Where do you go from here?

Still not meeting his eyes, Jimin lifts up a hand and gently takes your chin in his fingers, forcing your head to angle up so he can look at you. His eyes search yours as yours search his. Both of you trying to find answers to questions you haven’t asked.

“You think I have a great ass?” You really can’t cope with silence.

Jimin throws his head back in a laugh, and a smile plays on your lips as you watch him. Continuing to laugh he brings his head back down and flops it onto your shoulder. Your breath catches in your throat as he turns his head into your neck.

“A great ass,” he says into the skin between your ear and shoulder, lips dancing across your skin. “A sexy brain. Beautiful eyes. Kissable lips.” His lips dance across your skin, slowly making their way north to your face, not quite kissing, but brushing against the skin in a way that gives you heart palpitations. “As if you’d ever think I’d leave you for a tall skinny blonde.”

He echoes your words from earlier when he is back at eye level, lips a breath away from yours. His words make your gut twist with guilt again. But your overriding emotion is how much you want him to kiss you. He doesn’t move any closer to you though, and as if sensing your frustration, a cocky smirk appears on his face.

It’s as if that’s the catalyst for you to lunge for him, effectively wiping the smile off his face.

His tongue easily makes its way into your mouth, swiping your teeth, then the roof of your mouth, before toying with your tongue. His hands tighten on your hips, and he works you both so that your back is against the counter, and he can put his weight on you. In mere seconds from you attaching your lips to his, you had lost control, though you are definitely not complaining.

You make out for a few minutes, without anything else happening. Your content to just do this, all night, if not forever. But then you shuffle to get more comfortable and feel him hard against you. Heat almost immediately floods to your core, and suddenly you are not content to continue just making out.

You don’t say anything straight away, you think through your options. He’s not said anything, he seems just as content to take this no further. And you have to wonder whether that’s for the best. You’re friends, and though you want more, there’s the risk that it will ruin everything. But isn’t that always the risk? There was also the fact that Jimin’s reputation shows that he probably only wants this to be a one-time thing, and you take a second to debate whether that was something you could handle. Was it better to have someone once, or not at all?

Ultimately, you realise that you’ve already crossed a line. Granted, it’s not as far across the line as having sex, but kissing (especially the way you currently are) is definitely not something friends do. Fuck it.

You pull away from Jimin, light breaths leaving your mouth as you look up at him.

“Bed?”

Light dances in his eyes before extinguishing, a small crease in his brow replacing it. His fingers lightly brush your cheek, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Are you sure?” His voice is soft, and coupled with his previous action, you wonder whether he does this to every potential lay, or if it’s because it’s you.

You nod your head, small but sure, and then realise that maybe he’s saying it because he doesn’t want to and you become less sure. “If you want to?”

His eyes flick between yours. “Of course I want to,” he says as if it’s written across his forehead. “But – Y/N,” he pauses, searching for the words. “I don’t want you to regret anything.”

You smile at him, your heart flutter at his concern. He could so easily have not said any of that. You were the one who suggested taking this further and he could have gone along with it. But as if he could read your mind and your concerns, he stops to check you actually want to go through with it and aren’t just saying it because you think it’s what he wants. He is the sweetest man on the planet, and again, you have to wonder whether he was doing this because it was you, or whether he would do this to anyone. Knowing Jimin, you’re sure he would extend this curtesy to anyone and everyone.

Smile still on your face, you extend yourself so you can press another kiss to his lips. God, you wish you could do that every minute of every day.

“I won’t regret it,” you say into his lips, and in case he’s still unsure you carry on. “I want it. I want you.”

“Thank god,” he mumbles before breaking into a smile. Stepping away from you an inch, he takes your hand in his. “Lead the way.”

You squeeze his hand tightly in yours as you tug him to the door, as if he’ll escape if you let go. You both run up the stairs, the anticipation of what’s about to come getting too much. A small giggle escapes your lips at the absurdity of the situation you find yourself in. Never in a million years would you have thought that this would become a reality.

Your giggle only deeps when you step through your bedroom door and Jimin pulls your hand, twisting you so that you slam into his chest. He kisses the giggles away, swallowing them in his own mouth.

Theres a new urgency as you both start to pull your clothes off. Jimin inching you both backwards, until the back of your knees hit the bed. At this point you’re both stood only in your underwear. Pausing, both of you letting small pants of air out and you catch Jimin slowly drag his eyes up and down your body. You resist the urge to cover yourself and instead let him drink you in.

“Fuck,” he sighs the words.

Stepping the inch into you he recaptures your lips, hands going from your hips to your ass, kneading the skin.

“You really are an ass guy, huh?” You chuckle.

He laughs, lips travelling from your lips to your jaw to your neck, while one of his hands moves forward in between your legs. You gasp when his fingers pull your pants sideways so they can run through your folds. You’re damp, not fully wet, but Jimin still lets out a satisfied hum into your neck. His fingers only linger there a second before he’s retreating though, a groan of protest leaves your lips.

He doesn’t give you any warning as he unclasps your bra, letting it drop to the floor, before gently lowering you onto the bed. He stays looming over you for a second, looking down at you, and you gulp as you look up at him, wetness pooling in your pants at the sight of him near naked looking down at you like that.

He dips, going down onto his knees before you. His fingers clasp the band of your pants, pulling them down your legs before dumping them with your bra. You push yourself up onto your elbows so you can see what he’s doing. His fingers run along the inside of your legs, going from your ankles slowly up, pushing your legs wider open in the process. You catch on to what he plans, and start to let out a noise of protest, a small “you don’t have to” leaving you lips quickly dies in your throat when his fingers meet your centre.

Pushing himself up onto his knees, he brings his head closer to you. And when his fingers start to dip into you, his mouth attaches itself to your clit, and you let out your first real moan. And when he puts a second finger in you, curling them at just the right point, your elbows can no longer support you and you collapse back onto the bed.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly you come undone, but neither you or Jimin comment on it. You feel his tongue sweep through your folds as you pant, looking up at the white ceiling, and then his weight is gone. You’re aware of him taking off the last piece of clothing that he wears.

“Top draw,” you say, without him saying anything.

Theres the noise of a draw being opened, of him fumbling around, and then the distinctive rip of a foil packet being opened. The bed dips under his weight, and then your view of the white ceiling is obscured by a smiling Jimin. An improvement to any view.

“Fuck you tasted so good,” he says. “If I wasn’t so hard, I’d eat you out all night.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him down onto you so you can kiss him. Theres a lingering taste of you in his mouth.

Lips still attached to yours, he grinds down into you, his hard cock running through your folds. You both moan at the feeling. He does this a few more times, seemingly content to do just that forever, but you grow frustrated.

“Jimin,” you whine, and a cheeky smile appears on his lips as he ignores you, continuing to grind into you. “Jimin. Please.”

He takes pity on you, stopping his movements when he’s lined up with you. Your breath hitches in your throat when he starts to push into you. He goes inch by inch, only stopping when he’s fully bottomed out.

“Fuck,” you’ve never heard him curse so much as you have tonight.

He doesn’t ask you when you’re ready, instead just starts to slowly move in and out of you. It doesn’t take him long to speed up. He drags himself slowly out of you before slamming back into you, jostling you up the bed.

“Why have we waited so long to do this?” Jimin says over the top of the noise of your bodies slapping against each other.

Grabbing your knee, he pulls it up slightly, changing the angle making you both moan. Then, he starts to go rabid. His movements now anything but slow as he pounds in and out of you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he says.

You don’t know how he’s able to form words, your mind is completely blank. The only thing you’re aware of is the feeling of him inside you. You can hear moans, but you’re now no longer sure if it’s you, Jimin, or both of you making the noise. You at least last longer than when he ate you out, but it still feels like you come undone faster than you normally would. But you can’t hold out any more. The feeling of him inside you is enough to drive you insane.

Your mind feels like it implodes, pure whiteness fills your vision as your back arches off the bed and you let out an inhuman sound. You feel Jimin chase his own high, hips bucking into you at a faster pace, extending your pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jimins hips stutter as he finds his own release.

He thrusts two more times before pulling out of you. Taking off his condom, he throws it in the bin before falling onto the bed next to you. You’re both sweaty and panting, but he still opens his arms as you roll into his side. You feel the light kiss of his lips on the crown of your head and when you look up at him his fingers push a few strands of hair that have stuck to sweat on your forehead.

Your eyes search his, as you grow nervous again. You’d just had sex with him, yet you’re nervous to ask what currently swims in your mind in case he rejects you. A small smile plays on his lips as he basically reads your mind.

“I’ll stay,” he says, causing your nerves to instantly disappear. “If you want me to.”

You fall back into his arms. “I want you to.”

He moved you, only so you can get under your covers, and your body instantly curls back into his. Your eyes start to feel heavy quickly, the small circles Jimin draws on your arm helping to lull into sleep.

“You’re right,” you manage to mumble out before you fall asleep. “We shouldn’t have waited so to do that.”

You feel the kiss he places on your head before sleep over takes you.

There are two distinct things that you’re aware of when you wake. One is the blaring alarm that goes off every morning to wake you up for work. The other is the hard, smooth planes of Jimins bare chest on your cheek and hands.

Rolling to your side you tap on your bed-side table until the annoying noise is silenced, and then roll back into Jimins side. Jimins arm sneaks around you, lightly squeezing your sides as you feel his lips press against the crown of your head.

“Morning,” his morning voice is croaky and husky, and you think if you aren’t already in heaven, then that noise alone might send you there.

You crane your neck so you can look at him. His hair is dishevelled, bits sticking up at odd angles, his eyes are puffy and half closed, but his mouth is pulled back into a full beamed smile. You don’t think as you lean up to press a kiss to his mouth. This is how you want to wake up every day.

“Morning,” you mumble against his lips, pressing one last kiss before pulling away. “I feel like hell.”

“You look like hell,” he says, which earns a light smack on his stomach. “Joking,” he elongates the word while his hand starts to draw circles on your side. “You always look amazing.”

“Now I know you’re lying.”

You yelp as his hands encompass your waist, and as if you weigh nothing, pulls you onto his chest so that you stare down at him.

“I’m not. You do look amazing,” he says. “Even if your hair does look like a bird's nest.”

Your laugh gets silenced as Jimin captures your lips with his, his tongue easily slipping into your mouth. His hands go from your hips to your ass, giving it a hard squeeze before starting to knead the skin. You moan loudly into his mouth before pulling away.

“I need to get ready for work,” you say as his hands continue their motions.

“I can be quick,” he says as his lips attach themselves to your jaw.

“You need to get ready for work. And I doubt you want to go in wearing the same thing as yesterday, so that means you need to go home,” you struggle to get the words out as his mouth works its way down to your neck.

“Call in sick,” he mumbles.

You stop fighting for a second, a light moan escaping you as he continues. For a second or two you forget why you’re arguing, and then for the next second you wonder if you should bother protesting, if you should just give into him. But then you snap to your senses, sitting up on him so that his lips can no longer easily attach themselves to you. He groans as he looks up at you, his lips puckering into a pout.

“I can’t call in sick,” you laugh at him.

He lets you remove your legs from his waist before you stand up. He stays lying on the bed, but his eyes follow you as you walk naked around the room.

“But now I have a problem that needs sorting out.”

You look over your shoulder at him and follow his gaze as he looks down at his now erect cock. You stifle a laugh as you shake your head, looking away from him to focus again on getting ready. You wanted to be strong, and if you focused on him looking like that in your bed too long you would easily give in. Though you have to keep wondering if that would be such a bad thing.

“The bathroom’s over there if you want to go and sort yourself out,” you say.

You don’t hear his approach, and a small squeal leaves your lips as his hands wrap around your waist.

“But that’s no fun,” he says into the skin just below your ear.

He pulls you backwards to his chest, and you feel just how big a problem he has. You can’t resist teasing him, grinding lightly back into him, and you feel proud when you hear and feel the breathy moan against your neck.

“I don’t have time,” you say as you pull away from him, a wide smile on your face.

“Babe,” he wines, hands trying to grab you back into his embrace. The nickname does something to your heart.

You spin around to face him, letting his arms drag you into his chest.  

“What do you want?” You smile up at him, failing to sound annoyed.

“It’s fine,” he huffs, but is clearly not annoyed. “I’ll sort myself out in the bathroom.”

“Don’t make me feel bad,” you smile up at him, planting a kiss on his mouth. You could really get used to this. “I can help you out if you want. It will just have to be quick. I do really need to get ready for work.”

He smiles down at you, eyes dancing across your face before he gives you another peck.

“It’s fine. It would be nice, but we have plenty of time to do it any other time,” he says, before pressing another kiss on your lips and then finally letting you go.

God, he was the best. You know plenty of guys who wouldn’t have dropped the matter so easily, hell, you’ve been with enough guys that had expectations when it came to sex, and though they never forced themselves on you, it was nice to be listened to. Not every guy was a sleaze, but enough were that this small thing from Jimin meant a lot to you.

You and Jimin do an invisible dance around each other in near silence. You choosing clothes for the day, him retrieving his clothes that got discarded last night. You wanted to stay home with him, you wanted to call in sick, you didn’t want to leave him for a second, but the guilt would weigh too heavily on you. Plus, you knew if you did it once, then you’d never stop doing it, especially if it meant being with Jimin.

You had a lingering feeling that last night may have been the only time you’d be with him, that if you didn’t take him up on the offer of a repeat now, you may never get the chance again. But it gave you confidence that he said there would be plenty more time for this. You didn’t really expect him to do a hit and run on you, especially as he had stayed the night, but this whole situation scared you. You didn’t know what it was, and didn’t want to question it in case you had different ideas about what it was and scared him off. Jimin was known for his short relationships after all.

When you’re both dressed, you head down the stairs, and before you can turn to head into the kitchen, Jimin takes your hand in his, stopping you.

“If I truly am going to work today, I really should head home to get ready,” he explains.

“You don’t want any food?”

“If I stay any longer, I won’t want to leave,” he admits, and you can see how genuine he is.

Even as your heart pangs, you still roll your eyes at him. “You’re so cheesy.”

“You love it,” he laughs, tugging your hand to pull you closer, before engulfing you in a hug. “I had a really nice night,” he mumbles into your ear.

You hum back, content to be in his arms a bit longer. You don’t want to go back to reality. It feels like you’ve been in a dream world since last night, and as soon as Jimin steps out of that door it will all be shattered. All night you’ve been thinking about where last night leaves you, and the thoughts all come back to you now.

“Can we not tell anyone about it?” The words leave your lips without much thought and when you feel Jimin stiffen in your arms you panic. “I don’t mean that,” you stutter, pulling away from him just enough to see his face. “I mean, I do. But, I just mean, can we wait a bit to tell everyone about last night?”

He has managed to school his face into a neutral stare by the time you look up at him, but his body is still stiff in yours. You wonder what you said wrong. Was it the fact he wanted to tell people about you, because surely you weren’t his normal bragging material. Or was it because he had assumed that what you had asked was obvious, and you saying the words made him realise that last night may have been a mistake because if it wasn’t obvious, what else wasn’t? You pray that it wasn’t because he’d already told people.

“You don’t want to tell people we slept together?” His eyes search yours as he looks down at you, and you swallow the lump that forms in your throat. This suddenly felt very serious.

“I just want to wait to see how things settle between us before we drag others in.” The words are clumsy because you don’t know what Jimin wants and don’t want to give away how much you want him if he doesn’t want you the same way.

“But you want me, right?” It’s the first time he’s sounded vulnerable, unsure, and you instantly pull him tighter to you. You’ve been stupid, you realise, he’s made it clear he wants you (even if only for a bit longer), you shouldn’t be so hostile to him just because he has a reputation.

“Of course,” you say it as if it’s the only thing you’re sure of, because it is. “I want this. I want you. I want to see where this goes. But I want us to see where this goes before others tell us where it should go.”

He nods his head slowly at you, as if finally understanding what you mean. The happiness from earlier starts to seep back into his face and the sight calms you. Maybe you haven’t just screwed this up after all.

“I get it,” he says.

“And we will tell them,” you assure him. “Just not straight away. I want you to myself a bit longer.”

“I know,” he smiles at you before leaning down to plant a kiss on your lips. “Now. I really do have to go.”

One last kiss, his hands roaming down to squeeze your ass, and before your arm can extend to slap him, he’s walking out the door. He gives you a cheeky smile over his shoulder as he walks down your road, and you stay leaning in your door watching him until he’s gone from sight.

The delay to your morning means that you only have time to grab a cereal bar before you have to set off for work. You wouldn’t regret it if it wasn’t for the hangover and nausea that sets in as soon as you’re out of the house. Without Jimin around distracting you, you suddenly realise how rough you feel.

Walking to work you try to take your mind off your pounding headache by pulling your phone out. Finally opening up the unread messages you have on your phone. There’s a few from the group chat with Connie, Yoongi and Jin. You wonder whether opening this will be the thing that tips you over the edge, it will probably do you more harm than good, but you open it anyway.

Connie: Do I win the bet if Jimin takes home Y/N not Izzy?

Jin: No.

Yoongi: Plus, technically, Y/N took Jimin home.

Connie: You guys are no fun.

Jin: That’s not what your mum said last night

Yoongi: What are you, 10?

Jin: Inches, yeah.

Jin has been removed from the chat by Yoongi

You smile at the stupid interaction from last night. But the messages keep on going from this morning, Jin having been re-added by Yoongi, and they turn your expression slightly sour.

Jin: Still nothing from Y/N? How much sex do we reckon they had last night?

Connie: Jesus, Jin. Read the room. None of want to be thinking about that at 8am.

Yoongi: He’s just still bitter I kicked him out of the group.

Connie: What did he offer you to get re-added?

Yoongi: He said he’d buy me a bottle of whiskey.

Jin: I had my fingers crossed behind my back, makes the promise null and void.

Jin: ANYWAY. Y/N and Jimin.

Connie: She should be up by now... I want the gossip!!  

Jin: I’ve messaged Jimin too, and no word there... I think that may be confirmation enough

Yoongi: Maybe they both just had too much to drink

Jin: Or are just too sore

Connie: You’re disgusting

Jin: Oh, come on. You’re as bad as me, you’re just too afraid to say it

Connie: Yeah, because it’s disgusting.

Jin: Details, details...

Connie: @Y/N, wake up!!

Connie: @Y/N, we want details!!

You want to turn your phone off. You want to hide away in embarrassment. You kind of want to smash your head against a wall, or better yet, smash your friends' heads against a wall.

But you’ve opened the messages now. They’ll all see the blue tick against your name, and it would look dodgier if you left them on read. No, you had to reply, and you either had to lie, or skirt the truth. Neither was ideal, but you were the one to ask Jimin not to tell anyone what had happened, you couldn’t at the earliest opportunity go back on that, and you had made that request for a reason. No, you didn’t want them finding out what happened. Not yet anyway.

Y/N: Can’t talk, feel like I might keel over and die any second, or throw up the entire contents of my insides. Whichever comes first.

Connie: Gross.

Jin: SHE’S ALIVE!!!

Y/N: Barely.

Connie: Details then! What happened?

Y/N: Exactly as was advertised. Jimin came back to mine and we had some drinks. You guys were more than welcome to join, but boring Jin had to ruin it.

Jin: I thought we agreed I’m not boring?

Jin: Sounds like you’re the boring one anyway. Just drinks?

Y/N: And chatting, believe it or not, we didn’t sit in complete silence.

Jin: There are other noises that I was imagining you making.

Y/N: Oh. And this is me stepping into work. Got to go. Have a nice day guys.

You lock your phone and put it in your pocket as you step into your small office. You knew they were all joking, but it still felt a bit too close to home. They always teased you about your crush, and you always went along with it, because it made it seem and feel less serious than it was. But now that something was or might be happening, it brought on fresh waves on panic. Which, given your current state, was not welcome.

You manage to make it to your desk before collapsing in your chair and flopping your head on the table. You don’t even put your computer on in an attempt to look like you might be trying to work. You just take a few deep breaths to steady yourself.

You try to focus on Jimin rather than your friends. It strangely settles your worries. Because, he is amazing, and last night was amazing, and any thought of that filled you with joy. It all felt a bit wild and fast, but it also felt strangely right. The way he had looked in your kitchen, the kiss on your cheek before he had left your house, and compared to the wild, passionate sex, it felt domestic.

Sitting up, you push the few buttons to get your computer up and running, if you had made it into work, you may as well try and get something done. And as you sit and watch your screen turn from black to coloured, you see Steph coming to your desk.

“You're glowing.”

“Thanks Steph. I don’t feel like I’m glowing, I actually feel like hell,” you perch your head on your arm.

“Another heavy night at the pub quiz?”  

“Something like that,” you grumble.

“Don’t tell me Jimin finally fell into your bed.”

You look up at her at those words, your face the picture of confusion, though your heart hammers in your chest. You’d asked Jimin to tell no one, and yet the first person you see guesses before you can say a word. You felt like you’d barely batted off Jin, Connie and Yoongi, and here Steph is basically reading your mind. God, if they were all like that over text, what would they be like in person if you are so obvious?

“Like I said, you’re glowing. You’ve obviously had a night of incredible sex.”

Your face burns at the words that come out so casually, but try to remain unphased. Even with the sly look Jon gives you from across the desk.

“I think that’s a myth, the whole glowing after sex thing,” you carry on, glad your voice comes out steady.

“Obviously not.”

“Maybe it’s all the alcohol I consumed.”

“A lack of vitamins can do that to a person,” the sarcasm is thick in her voice.

“That’s what they say,” you reply, knowing she was joking but hoping to drag her away from the conversation. “Now can you leave me alone. It’s nothing personal, but even the effort of trying to come up with words for a conversation is making my head pound.”

Steph smiles at you, part warm, part knowing. But you’re thankful when she places a hand on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze.

“I’m happy for you,” she says before disappearing back to her desk.

You spend the rest of the day trying and mostly failing to focus on work. And as hard as you try, you can’t help when you mind wonders to Jimin. Especially when he messages you asking if you want to spend the weekend together. As much as you worried that it was only a one-night kind of thing, Jimin seemed to keep proving you wrong. Maybe he was in this as much as you were.

For the rest of the day, you struggle to fight the smile that keeps rising to your mouth. In the end you just give in to it.

And the rest of the weekend and the week that follows feels much the same. You spend most of your free hours with Jimin, and when you’re not together you seem to be texting. And as great as the sex is (because there is a lot, and it is amazing), it also feels more than that. You talk and have fun together. You feel happier than you have felt in years.

“Who won the Premier League in 2016?” The host’s voice booms throughout the quiet room.

“Why do they always ask football questions in sports rounds?” You complain as you watch Yoongi scribble down the answer. “They never ask netball questions, or hockey, or what about bowls? Everyone loves bowls.”

“Name one person that loves bowls,” Jimin laughs but keeps talking before you can answer him. “Because, believe it or not, football is a very popular sport that a lot of people are fans of.”

“Yeah, that is hard to believe.”

“Oh come on, even you know the answer to this one.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, even me?” You shoot him a semi-annoyed look, knowing he didn’t mean anything by the words, the smile that remains on his face only emphasises the point.

“I meant everyone. Everyone knows the answer to this one. And I know you know, because we watched them win in the pub together and you were very excited. It certainly felt like you were a fan of football that night.”

“I don’t know the answer,” Connie chips in, and Jimin shoots you a look to suggest that she wasn’t included in the everyone statement. Poor Connie.

“Fine. It was exciting because of the atmosphere. Not because bloody Leicester won. Happy?” You say, the smile on your face betraying your annoyed tone.

He doesn’t answer, but the smirk on his face tells you everything. You only widen your smile in return.

“Question 9.” Once again, the quiz host manages to quieten the room. “Who has won the most Tennis Grand Slam titles?”

“Sue Barker was pretty good back in her day,” Jin says before taking a sip of his drink.

“Nadal?” Once again everyone pretends that Jin hasn’t even spoken.

“Or Federer,” Yoongi says, tapping the pen on the table.

“I think it’s one of those, everyone thinks it’s Federer but it’s actually Nadal, answers,” Jimin replies.

“And are we not even going to consider Serena Williams?” You narrow your eyes at the boys and they both look at you slightly wide eyed. “He never specified gender. Believe it or not, women can be good at sports too.”

“I know,” Jimin replies, and you’re glad he didn’t use your response from earlier the way you used his. “Serena is a good shout.”

Both men have turned slightly pink from your jab at them, and though you don’t want to make them feel uncomfortable and know they weren’t doing it on purpose, you’re secretly a bit glad. It annoyed you that women were always over looked in sports, so even a small reminder to remember them was useful.

“I’m not saying she’s the answer, just someone to throw in the mix,” you shrug.

“No, I think it is her,” Jimin replies and Yoongi quickly scribbles it down.

You look at Jin who’s remained sat quietly watching the whole thing and he only raises his eyebrows at you, giving you a knowing smirk. You heat at the unspoken words. It was weird for Jimin to back down so easily, and here he was complimenting you. He couldn’t be making it any more obvious to them that something was going on between the two of you. It just made you feel even more guilty for not telling anyone. But you would tell them, just not until things settled and you and Jimin knew where you stood. Everything was still new. You didn’t want everyone knowing and dooming the whole thing.

“And finally,” the quiz host shouts out. “How many stages are there in the Tour de France? That’s stages in the Tour de France. Thanks for another week folks, as always go grab a drink before I start giving the answers.”

“Did Beyonce perform there one year?” Jin says and everyone frowns at him. “Stages? Like performance stages, it was meant to be a joke.”

“Well, as always, it wasn’t funny,” you reply, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Harsh,” he mumbles, but still chuckles.

“Why is the last question always impossible,” Connie moans.

“I think they do it on purpose,” Jimin adds and Connie shoots him a look as if to say no shit.  

“Not impossible,” Yoongi says as he scribbles on the answer sheet.

Jin sits up straighter, looking more interested than he has the whole evening.

“Oh my God. You know the answer?”

“Believe it or not, I’m the only one who know most of the answers. I carry the team,” he shrugs but throws you a wicked grin that takes you by surprise, it was so un-Yoongi.

“But Tour de France? Who even watches that?” Jin continues.

“I never said I watch it,” Yoongi throws back. “Someone I went to school with was in it one year and when I spoke to them, they said it was 21 stages,” Yoongi explains, still as unbothered as always.

“Where do you store all this knowledge? You’re so small, and that head must only be able to contain a brain the size of a pea, yet you come out with this sort of nonsense. It shocks and appals me that you can remember that, yet can’t remember to take the bins out on a Wednesday,” Jin shakes his head as if it was really affecting him, and then abruptly stands up and says, “another round?” and doesn’t wait for a response before walking off to the bar.

“I am honestly going to kill him one day,” Yoongi fumes in the corner and you wonder whether the look on his face was the reason Jin decided to leave so quickly.

“I’m surprised you’ve managed to refrain for so long,” you laugh, though are unsure if you should provoke the matter.

“It’s only because he lets me drink his whiskey and doesn’t mind when I play my music too loudly,” again Yoongi says the words with little emotion, but you know for a fact that there is more to it than that. Yoongi had a hard outer shell, but it didn’t take much to affect him inside. He may not look it but he actually felt very deeply, and you knew that he loved Jin a lot.

Connie drags him into a conversation about sport that you only half pay attention to. Your attention is focused when a hand lightly squeezes your leg.

Turning to look at Jimin you see a concerned look in his eye. His hand remains on your leg, with seemingly no care of who can see the touch, though you doubt anyone could see or comment even if they did look.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says, giving your leg another soft affectionate squeeze.

“What do you mean?” You ask, hand absently falling on top of his.

“I didn’t mean to offend you about the football and then be all misogynistic,” he replies while turning his hand so it’s palm up in your lap.

“You didn’t offend me,” you say, lightly trailing patterns on his palm with your finger, because he didn’t. You just felt a bit uptight tonight, little things that wouldn’t normally get to you were annoying you more than normal.

You had felt stressed before coming tonight. You and Jimin had spent basically the whole week together, and tonight would be your first time together around others. You still hadn’t told anyone, Jimin had raised the matter, but when you asked him for a bit more time, he had easily agreed. You were stressed about not telling anyone, and then them finding out and being upset. So, even though you didn’t mean to get upset about Jimins statements, your tense state caused the unnecessary harshness.

“But I was misogynistic?” A small smile lights his lips as he glances down at your two hands. Your fingers continue their patterns and if anyone were to look over the table at you, they wouldn’t see the fumbling currently happening under the table, it was the only reason you carried on.

“A tiny bit,” you say with no malice. “But only a tiny bit. I forgive you.”

“Thank God,” Jimin says dramatically before snatching your hand in his. “Because I’d never be able to cope if you didn’t.”

You laugh at his overly dramatic words, and the laugh only deepens when he takes the hand that he holds and lifts it to his mouth, pressing a light kiss on it. Pulling your hand away from his lips reveals the full, mega-watt beaming smile on his lips that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

“Right, they were out of the You’re a Swine IPA Yoongi, so I got you a Stella like everyone else,” Jin announces his presence by putting the tray full of drinks of the table.

You take your hand out of Jimin and place it back under the table while the smile is wiped off your face, as if you suddenly remember where you are and who’s there. You don’t look to see Jimins reaction but can feel his silent stare on you. Picking up your fresh drink you take a long gulp of it and catch Yoongi’s eye when you place it back on the table. It feels like the man is all seeing and all-knowing as he raises an eyebrow at you, but you’re thankful that he doesn’t say anything. You felt nervous about tonight, and then you let Jimin be so obvious? You heated at the thought of being caught out.

You try to fall back into the easy conversation that starts up around you. With Jin’s opening statement they talk mainly about Yoongi’s new fascination with the on-tap beers from local breweries that have weird and fantastical names. Jin is convinced Yoongi only wants them because it means that Jin has to say the name when ordering, but Yoongi retorts that he genuinely enjoys the taste and if anything is helping out local businesses. You have to say that Jin makes a good point, especially when Yoongi recently requested a pale ale called Fanny Me This.

There’s no hand holding or secret conversations as the quiz host comes back out and gives the answers. Though you did pretty well on the sports round, Yoongi coming through on the Tour de France answer and your suggestion of Serena Williams being right bumping your points up, you still don’t get over 40 points. On the way home though, when you’ve said goodbye to the others, Jimin doesn’t say anything as he takes your hand in his and you don’t say anything as you lean slightly into his body. You kind of love how normal it feels when you ask him if he wants to come into your house when you reach the door, and you definitely love that he doesn’t even think twice to accept.

Even though only three pub quizzes have passed, it feels weird turning up without Jimin by your side. If he hadn’t already been at your house then he would walk your way so you could have at least 10 minutes together. But you haven’t actually seen Jimin in two days at this point. Which, in the grand scheme of things, wasn’t much, but with how much time the two of you had been spending together, it felt like a lifetime.

He’d gone on a night out with his work mates on Tuesday night for his company's annual conference. It’s a massive event where the company celebrates the previous years work, awards innovation in the company as well as hard work, and basically just uses it as an excuse to have a massive piss up.

Jimin had invited you, and even if it hadn’t been on a Tuesday (who even does that?), you still felt like it was a massive leap in your relationship. You liked where the two of you were, but you still hadn’t explicitly told anyone, though you’re sure a few have guessed. Going to Jimin’s work conference with Jimin, just felt big. Especially when the two of you hadn’t discussed what you were. You hadn’t really told Jimin the extent of your worries, merely told him that a Tuesday wasn’t ideal, what with work the next day, he’d seemed disappointed but didn’t press the matter, saying he understood but would miss you.

You hadn’t heard much from Jimin after that. The next day had basically been radio silence until it was pretty much dark, and at that point you could tell that he was suffering the effects of a heavy night. He had been slightly more talkative yesterday and this morning, but had said that he was having dinner with a friend in town tonight so it made more sense to go straight to the pub then come to yours first.

When you arrive at the pub Jimins already at the bar talking to Izzy, he looks over and gives you a small wave, which you return as you head to the table. It’s no surprise when you see Yoongi, Jin and Connie already sat at the table, they always seem to arrive before you. And before you even take your bag off and sit down, Jimin is at the table, drinks for everyone in hand.

You can’t take your eyes off him, your emotions for him bubbling to the surface as you look at him so close. Especially when he takes his seat next to you, it’s like you can’t take in enough of him, seeing him so close after so long. You want to hug him, want to kiss him, want to touch him, but you settle for a smile. The rest could wait for later when you’re both alone.

He returns the smile, but you can’t help but feel like it’s missing something. The glint in his eye isn’t as strong. The crinkles at the side of his eyes not as deep. His teeth not showing as broadly. It just doesn’t feel as genuine as it normally does. But when his hand lightly squeezes your leg before retracting, you know you’re over reacting. You’d not seen him in three days and now you’re some psychotic, overthinker. You needed to chill.

It doesn’t take long for the quiz to start, and you get lost in the easy banter and thinking of the answers you should definitely know, (what is the capital of New Zealand? Was a real bugbear until Jin shouted out Wellington, letting half the tables around you know the answer too). It feels normal, nothing off, making you decide that everything from earlier was definitely your imagination.

And then the questions finish, and Jimin offers to get another round in, the round that should be yours to buy, but he merely gives you a wink as he walks to the bar. Your heart leaps at the gesture, and then instantly falls when you look down and see the faces staring back at you. Concern is written over every feature, and your face scrunches in confusion before Jin talks.

“So, I hear that you may have won the bet,” Jin says, his voice light, but also thick with unease.

“What?”

“The Jimin and Izzy bet,” he attempts to clarify.

Your mind still can’t really compute what he’s trying to tell you. And then it hits you like a tonne of bricks.

The bet. The bet that was made weeks ago, before anything had happened between you and Jimin. You had won that bet?

Your body heats at the connotations before fully processing what was going on. You turn to look again at where Jimin is stood at the bar. Much like when you made the bet, Jimin is stood leaning against the bar talking to the beautiful barmaid, both with full beam smiles on their faces. You can almost see the flirtation coming off them in waves. And you suddenly wonder if that is why he was so keen to buy your round, to be closer to her for a few minutes. If that is why he seemed so off with you, if it is why he hasn’t been talking to you as much over the last few days.

“What do you mean I won?” You try again to clarify, because even though you fully understand, you can’t help but hope there’s been a misunderstanding somewhere.

Jin looks around the table at Yoongi and Connie, but their eyes are on you, while you just try to avoid everyone's eyes. It’s easier to try and remain like you are in control of yourself if you don’t look at them.

“Uh – well – did you not hear?” Jin stutters, and when you shake your head he carries on. “Jimin went on a night out and took Izzy home.”

Well fuck.

It was every nightmare you had come true. It was everything you had imagined happening, actually happening. You felt like you were drowning, searching for something to stay afloat, and there was nothing there.

But you had to remain calm. No one actually knew that anything had happened between the two of you, and this was exactly why. You felt humiliated as it was, they all knew how you felt towards the man, hence the sympathetic looks, but to throw in them knowing something was actually happening between the two of you? You’d die of shame on the spot.

“When?”

“Uh,” again, Jin looks at Connie and Yoongi for support, and again, they both ignore him. “Tuesday,” he says scratching the back of his neck.

His conference. The night that he had invited to you, and you had said you couldn’t go. Had he invited Izzy in your place, or simply stumbled upon her in the night? Well, it at least explains why he’d been so quiet with you over the last few days, and why he seemed a bit weird with you tonight.

Your mind starts to run away from you. Coming up with wilder and wilder theories of what happened. You have to take a visible breath in to compose yourself before you speak again. Jin, Connie and Yoongi were not the enemy here, you shouldn’t be taking it out on them. Plus, they didn’t even know about you and Jimin, though their concern at least stemmed from somewhere, probably the fact they knew you liked him, or had guessed something was happening.

“Well, I did say I know him the best, didn’t I?” You try, and almost definitely fail, to sound unmoved by the whole situation, taking a sip of your drink for something to do.

“It’s just Yoongi that has to pay up then,” Jin replies, and you’re grateful for the semi change in subject, but his eyes are still on you, as if watching for signs of distress.

You hum in reply, eyes going to Yoongi who, of course, is already looking at you. While concern swam in Jins eyes, it is less noticeable in Yoongi’s, making it easier to hold his stare.

“A drink, crisps, and a shot of sours I think it was,” Yoongi chips in. “I’ll get it in after Jimins round.”

Again, you hum, words still failing you. You’re glad when the others start talking, not expecting you to join in, but still shooting you concerned looks from time to time. You plaster on an obviously fake smile, that you’re sure does anything to reassure them. In fact, I probably looks so manic that it worries them more.

The thing is that the timeline matches, in your mind it all adds up to being plausible. Jimin had invited you on a night out the other day, saying he was going out with some work friends, but you had turned it down because you had too much work to do the next day to be hungover. He hadn’t messaged you much since, which wasn’t odd per se, but now it makes you wonder whether he was doing it to be cold, to push you away because he was moving on from you. You don’t want to believe that Jimin would do that, but part of you thinks that’s exactly how he would get rid of you.

And looking at him now only solidifies everything you’ve ever thought. Jimin wasn’t a relationship guy. He liked to have a conveyor belt of women, constantly moving.

You had wanted to believe different, had wanted to believe everything he had said to you over the last few weeks. But you now felt stupid for thinking any of it was true, felt stupid for believing that your relationship with him could be anything but physical. He had never explicitly said that it would be anything more, but his words had implied enough for you to hope. He’d taken you for the fool you clearly are. He’d played you like a fiddle.

The lump in your throat thickens the longer you sit here and think about it all. Angry tears threaten to well up and you didn’t want to add to the current shame you were feeling by letting them fall. You wanted to be out of here before Jimin got back to your table and ultimately made you feel worse than you currently feel.

“I’m actually not feeling great, I think it might be some dodgy fish I had for tea,” you cut across whatever conversation was going on around you, causing all eyes to shoot back to you.

You can tell none of them are convinced, but none of them stop you as you start packing up your bag in haste. Half your mind is at the bar, monitoring Jimin, making sure that he isn’t coming back to the table to catch your escape. It takes you mere seconds to put your purse in your bag, down the dregs of your drink, pull your coat on and stand, ready to leave, from the table.

“You’re not staying for the rest of the quiz?” Jin asks.

“I really don’t feel great. I fear if I don’t get to a bathroom soon, I may ruin everyone's night,” maybe a tad extreme, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  

Jin’s eyebrows pinch in either disgust or confusion, maybe both. But food poisoning, or whatever you are pretending to have comes on fast, you try and convince yourself, as you worm your way out of your spot at the table.

“Ok,” Jin continues to looked puzzled as he watches you leaving. “Well, text us when you get home. And call me, or come round, if you want to talk.”

“Yep,” you say in a squeaky voice as you finally free yourself, having a clear shot at the pubs door you give the table a final glance, three worried faces stare back at you and you barely make out the word “goodbye” before ducking for the door.

They could all see right through you. Jin was one of your better friends, you’d know him and been closest to him for the longest, and the look on his face told you he could see straight through your act. But Connie and Yoongi were also not stupid, and let’s face it, you didn’t do the best job at acting.

Out in the fresh air, you feel slightly better, but with the pub still close you continue to feel on edge as you half walk, half run in the direction of your home. You wouldn’t truly feel at ease until you were in your house, front door locked and even then, you doubt the feelings currently going through you would go away.

Still, you rush to your home, your mind whirling the whole way. But you push the thoughts away. You push them away until you’ve reached your door, keep pushing them as you lock the door and head upstairs, you don’t think as you get into your pyjamas, you only stop when you’re tucked up into bed. And even then you find it hard to think.

You won the bet. Jimin took Izzy home. Jimin had sex with Izzy.

You want to scream, cry, punch something. But they all feel like emotions you shouldn’t be feeling, because Jimin wasn’t really yours. You’d slept together a few times, had become more than just the friends that you were a few weeks ago, but that was it. Jimin wasn’t your boyfriend. Neither of you had discussed being exclusive. He was allowed to sleep with other people. But it still hurt like hell.

You’d expected this. You’d predicted this from the start. You had always wanted Jimin, but always worried that he was too much of a ladies' man to settle down the way that you wanted. And that night when you slept together, you had worried whether you should even sleep with him, because you knew that your heart was in it too much for it to be a one-night thing.

And yet you’d done it all. You’d slept with him, you’d given him your heart, and you felt like he returned that, if only just a small portion. But this seemed to just prove all your instincts right. You should have prepared better for this, because you knew it was coming, it wasn’t a matter of if but when. As much as you tried to convince yourself that you were wrong, Jimin never felt the same way you did. You just wish he’d at least spoken to you first, you thought he was at least that decent.

It felt like your heart was split down the middle. Like it was bleeding out, and you had no equipment or knowledge of how to stop it. You feel like you’re drowning in it as you lie in your bed, it all seeping out of you.

Your phone dings with the noise of an incoming text, and you know who it is before you look at your phone. Still, you twist to read it.

Jimin: You ok? Jin said you felt rough so left? You should have waited and I would have walked you home x

Tears prick your eyes as you read the message, as if even the sight of his name is too much. He was being sweet even now, offering to walk you home and checking if you felt ok, and you don’t know whether it pains you or makes you angry. Also, just walk you home, not take you home and look after you, the message seemed clear.

Still, you don’t want to talk to him about the real reason you left, even if it involved him, and you should definitely talk to him about it. Texting wasn’t the right way, and you didn’t feel like now was the right time. You needed to process what had happened before you ask Jimin about it. Though you are pretty sure both are just shitty excuses, so what, you could choose to be selfish in this moment.

Y/N: Dodgy tummy, haven’t felt quite right all day and all just got a bit much. Didn’t want you to miss the quiz.

You should feel guilty about lying, but you don’t. Almost immediately the message is read as if he was sat with your messages open, and then the three dots appear.

Jimin: You should have said :( Let me know if you still feel bad tomorrow and I’ll come look after you xx  

You close your eyes as you read the message, taking a deep breath to steady yourself.

Y/N: Will do, thanks.

You lock your phone and push it onto your night stand even when you hear another ding showing he’s replied.

Your heart continues to ache, your brain feels like it’s on fire, but you still close your eyes to at least attempt to get some sleep. As you could have predicted, you don’t manage to sleep much.

You wake to more messages from Jimin, messages of concern and offers to look after you. You actually do feel like shit in the morning too, a lack of sleep and a broken heart can do that to a person. So much so, that you call in sick for the day. You feel a tad guilty, but you also know that if you had gone in you would just be a mess, and more of a hinderance then a help. It would be better to take the day off, have a three day weekend and start fresh Monday.

You manage to bat away most of Jimin’s texts, excuses of being contagious and feeling like death not actually doing much to stop him, if anything they seem to worry him more. Still, you don’t let on the real reason you feel like shit. And still, he doesn’t tell you about Izzy.

It’s Sunday evening when the doorbell rings. You feel slightly better than the Thursday night. But still, you don’t think much as you walk towards the door.

Pulling open the door Jimin stands facing you. You should have expected it, but part of you is still surprised to see him. Just the sight of him makes your heart rate pick up and your fight or flight instincts start to kick in. But as if expecting you to run, Jimins hand shoots out to stop you closing the door on his face.

“Wait,” he says, eyes pleading. “I just came to talk.”

You stop, fully taking him in, and realise he looks like complete shit. Well, as complete shit as it’s possible for Jimin to look. His hair, that’s normally perfectly styled, looks slightly greasy as it falls limply around his face. His eyes look blood shot and there are dark circles under them, as if he hasn’t been sleeping. Even his clothes are creased and dishevelled. He looks awful, he looks slightly ill, he looks so unlike Jimin.

“I just want to talk. And if you still want me gone, then I’ll go, no questions asked,” he tries again when you fail to reply. “Please, Y/N. Just give us 5 minutes to talk.”

5 minutes was almost laughable. You knew that wouldn’t even get you through the awkward small talk or the deadly silence, that would surely come before you both started to open up. But you still open the door wide enough for him to walk past you. He shoots you an appreciative look as he shuffles into your house and as you close the door you inhale a breath to try and steady your nerves. You were expecting this conversation, but it was happening a lot sooner than you thought.

You follow him into your living room. The space feels so much different with him in it, and different still from when he used to come before everything blew up. It used to feel like he made the space more alive, as if he somehow completed it, but now he just feels like a looming, dark figure. But that’s probably more to do with your emotions towards him.

You both sit down on the sofa, a visible gap between your bodies, where once there would have been none. Jimin stares at it, his eyebrows pulled together as if it’s a science experiment he is struggling to understand. You look at him, hands in your lap as you try to refrain from fidgeting.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” He is the first to speak, straight to the point, no skirting the subject.

“I’ve not ignored you,” the words fall flat even to your ears and Jimin gives you a beat to carry on and when you don’t he sighs.

“I don’t know what’s happening. You need to talk to me Y/N,” his voice is pleading with you as he looks up at your face and you can barely return the stare. You know the second you do you’ll break, you are barely holding yourself together as it is. “Just tell me what I’ve done.”

“You’ve not done anything,” you whisper out.

Another sigh, and from the corner of your eye you can see him shaking his head. This isn’t fair on him, you realise, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to say it, to look him in the eyes and spill your heart out. You’d done it once before, and he’d shown you how much that meant. After all, surely he knows what he’s done.

“If this – if we, mean anything to you, then you’d talk this out with me,” he says and your head finally snaps to him.

He was guilt tripping you into telling him. He knew how much he meant to you and he was using that against you. It made you angry as hell.

“Don’t pull that shit on me,” you say, your voice coming out strong for once. “Don’t come here and tell me that we are anything, when you clearly don’t think we are.”

You can see in the way his eyes search your face that he still doesn’t know what you’re talking about. It halts you on your path, because surly he wasn’t dim enough to not put the dots together by now. Still, the anger and sadness that had been building up within you for days finally starts to spew out of you, and you find it hard to contain it now the dams are starting to fall.

“I wish I could take it all back; the kisses, the secrets I told you, the sex. Were you just laughing behind my back the whole time?” Jimin seems too shocked to reply, which only spurs you on. “I trusted you Jimin, and I really, really liked you. But you’ve made me feel like an idiot. I wish I’d listened to myself from the start, because then none of this would have happened, because I would have known that you wouldn’t stick around, that you wouldn’t change, that you’d just go for the next best thing to come along. I at least thought you’d wait a bit longer, that you’d tell me, talk to me before doing anything with someone else because -”

“You think I’ve slept with someone else?” Jimin cuts you off even though his voice is weak, and again, part of your brain starts to ring warning bells.

“Ye - Yeah,” you stumble on your words, feeling wholly unsure, but trying to convince yourself that you are sure. “Izzy. You met her, or invited her, to that work conference and took her home.”

The fact that you have to explain this to Jimin, the man that supposedly did it, is laughable. But the room is deadly silent after the words are spoken. You watch as Jimins face goes from realisation to shock and finally settles on anger. You blanch under the look he gives you, but remain as strong as you can in front of him.

“Yeah, I took Izzy home. Because she was fucking black out drunk and her friends had left her, and fuck. I took her home. To her home. Alone,” a small, humourless chuckle leaves Jimins lips as he runs a hand through his hair and it suddenly starts to catch up to you how much you have fucked up.

This is what happens when you jump to conclusions on your own and don’t talk them through. This is what happens when you assume something. This is what happens when you run away from your fears.

“But, Jin said...” your voice trails off, unsure what your point was going to be.

Another humourless laugh escapes Jimin and it makes your stomach drop to look at him like this. You thought the broken Jimin you saw at the door was bad, but this dark and angry Jimin was so much worse. Especially because you knew you were the cause of it all.

“Fucking Jin,” Jimin mumbles under his breath, and then carries on, voice back to its normal tone. “So this is why you’ve been pushing me away? Because you think I slept with someone else?”

“I - yeah,” you say, unsure what else you can say.

“After everything I said? After I told you how I felt about you? You really think I would do that to you?”

Your leg starts to bob as the words pierce through you like knives. He was being fair, but it felt mean.

“I mean, it did seem like something you’d do,” you regret the words as soon as they leave your mouth.

“What does that mean?”

You sigh. And maybe part of you was still angry with him, maybe you felt like you’d already lost it so it didn’t really matter what you said now, maybe your heart hurt so damn much that you wanted to make his hurt just a fraction of that, or maybe you were just so damn tired. Whatever it was, it didn’t really excuse what you say next.

“You’ve never been interested in me before Jimin, so why would you be now? You go through women as if they’re about to go extinct. Why wouldn’t I think it was true? Why wouldn’t I think you’d not told me when you slept with someone else?”

He looks like a wounded animal as he regards your words, fully taking in every syllable. From the look on his face, you want to wrap him up in your arms and tell him you didn’t mean it. But both of you sit in the silence and remain on your designated sides of the sofa.

Slowly, as if his body is finally catching up to his brain, Jimin shakes his head. You brace yourself for the words that he is inevitably about to shoot your way.

“Of course you think that about me. You’ve always thought that about me. I’m not an idiot Y/N,” the fact that his voice comes out soft only makes you feel worse. “You’re the one who said you didn’t want to tell anyone about us. As if I was some dirty secret. You’re the one that didn’t want to come with me to my work conference, even though I wanted you there, you acted like you couldn’t think of anything worse than being seen with me in public. You’re the one who clearly couldn’t trust me, to jump to the conclusion that of course I slept with someone else. Who flinched and acted like we were nothing whenever I touched you in public. Who couldn’t even be bothered to talk to me when you thought I’d done something wrong.”  

Hearing him list everything that you’ve done to him over the few short weeks you’d been together seems to make something click in your head. You were the one that treated him like shit. That’s why he had seemed so off with you these past few days, not because he felt guilty about sleeping with someone else, but because he was wondering about you and your feelings towards him.

“What was this Y/N? Because I was all in, I wanted to tell people, I wanted to be exclusive. And I respected you when you asked me not to tell anyone because I thought you wanted to take things slowly, not because you were scared to tell people that you were dating me.”

He says the final word as if he is something unworthy, something people would be disgusted by. And you want to tell him that he is wrong, that you didn’t think that, that what he said is untrue and you didn’t do any of it. But you don’t say anything, because he’s right. He’s right that you didn’t want to tell anyone because you worried what they’d say. He’s right that you didn’t want to be seen intimate with him in public, you had in fact flinched away from his touch just the other week when Jin came back to the table with drinks and you realised you weren’t alone when Jimin was kissing your hand. He’s right that you don’t fully trust him, because when you heard about him and Izzy you immediately thought the worst, you didn’t even ask him about it, you went straight to worst case scenario.

You weren’t the victim here, far from it, and yet that’s what you’ve been acting the past few days. And while you had been living in a Jimin bliss over the last few weeks, he must have been second guessing everything, wondering if you really liked him, or why you didn’t want to tell people you were seeing him.

“I really like you Y/N,” Jimin says when you remain silent. “But I can’t be with someone that can’t trust me, that can’t even talk to me about what’s going on inside their head.”

Tears start to form in your eyes as you realise what’s coming, but you hold them back. You could cry later, you didn’t want to do it now in front of him.

“But maybe it’s best we just leave this here?”

And just like that your heart shatters. You finally had something that you’d dreamed of for years, and within weeks you had thrown it away. Your heart pangs out in pain, but you don’t disagree with him. Even though he posed it as a question, you knew it was meant to be rhetorical. He’d made up his mind.

He must take your silence as compliance because then he’s standing up.

“See you at the pub quiz?” He says lightly, trying, and failing, to mask the pain he must be feeling.

It’s almost laughable how he can even say that, as if the last 30 minutes didn’t just happen, as if you aren’t falling apart in front of him. But when you look at him, you realise he’s hurting just as much as you are. So with all the strength you have you stand up next to him.

“Yeah,” you manage to say as you look at him, your voice unusually level.

You both walk in silence to the front door and there’s an awkwardness between the two of you that you have never felt before, and you wonder how you’ll ever recover from this. Opening the door, you watch as Jimin leaves your house and starts to walk down the road away from you.

“Jimin,” you say when he isn’t too far away, making him stop and look over his shoulder. You think you see tears glistening in his eyes, but he’s too far away for you to be sure. “I really like you too. Like really like you. And I’m so sorry, for everything.”

It doesn’t feel like enough. You want to run after him, to crash down on your knees and beg for his forgiveness. You want to leap into his arms and keep him hostage. But you just stand and stare at him from your door and watch as he nods lightly before continuing to walk away.

You have four days before you have to see him again at the pub quiz, and you don’t use that time wisely. Even though you know that everything Jimin said was true, you still wallow in self-pity. Even more so now, because you only have yourself to blame for everything.

Jimin doesn’t text you, and you refrain from texting him. Though it seems like everything that happens to you is screaming at you to contact him. A joke you hear someone say as you pass them on your walk to work that you know Jimin would find hilarious. A special offer on a jumper that was literally made for him. A new trailer for the film you had talked about wanting to see together the other week. Every time one of them occurs you naturally get your phone out and go to open your messages with him, only to realise you aren’t speaking.

Steph had also guessed something was up, but because you had never explicitly told her that anything was going on, you now didn’t explain what was wrong. But just like she had guessed that you and Jimin were in fact seeing each other, she now guesses that you depressed moods are because of him. Again, however hard you tried to hide things from her, she always knew.

She didn’t pester or hound, but merely suggested that you should talk to him and tell him how you feel. And you knew you should too, you had gotten yourself into this mess, you might be able to get yourself out. But just like before, you worry. Worry that you’ll only make things worse, that though you still want more, it might just be better to do what he said and leave things here. Maybe the two of you were only supposed to be friends.

It felt like the days both dragged and flew in anticipation for the pub quiz. It makes you feel a bit sick the thought of seeing him there. But you won’t back out of it, no, because that would be like a flag declaring that you are not ok, that your friendship is not ok and might ruin everything between you going forward. You are trying to view the pub quiz as a fresh start, and having it on neutral territory would make it ten times easier. In theory anyway.

Jimin had made it clear that he was going to the pub quiz by saying that he’d see you there when he left. If he was going, you had to go.

You wake with nerves bubbling in your stomach on Thursday morning. You try and fail to supress them all day. Can barely eat any food, all of it feeling dry and making it hard to swallow. You struggle to focus on your work, your mind constantly running over possible scenarios that might happen later. Steph silently but sincerely helps you all day, making you cups of tea and talking about nonsense to take your mind off things.

But however much you try to put it off, the time comes where you have to leave your house.

You can’t decide whether it would be better to be the first to turn up or the last. So you decide to just leave at your normal time. You semi thought about texting Jimin to ask if he wanted to walk with you to the pub, but the thought of having to come up with conversation for the short 10 minutes alone, was enough to decide that it was a bad idea. At the pub at least you’d have the others as some sort of buffer.

You walk into the pub with only 5 minutes until the quiz is about to start, that was cutting it fine even by your standards. But looking over at your normal table you see everyone but Jimin has arrived. Your nerves continue to flutter in you as you head to the table.

“The prodigal child has returned,” Jin shouts as you near the table, a few heads from other tables turn to look and you heat with embarrassment.

“I am indeed back, though I only missed the answers last week, so I’m not sure you can say I ever really left,” you say as you finally reach the table and take one of the empty seats.

Jin hums before speaking. “The answers are the best part though.”

“Right, well shall I just leave now, and come back for the answers?” You say flatly.

“Nope,” Jin pops the p, leaning back in his seat. “You better stay. As little as you bring to the team, I think we may do worse with just three people.”

You ignore the insult and do the maths. If you left there would only be three people? Not four? So that meant...

“Jimins not coming?” Your voice comes out flat, but you’re glad there is at least no emotion to betray you.

“People are dropping like flies from this quiz. First Joon, then you, now Jimin,” Jin carries on.

“I’m here,” you say weakly.

“It’s called getting your priorities straight Y/N. This quiz should be top of our priorities. At least me, Connie and Yoongi seem to know that.”

“I was ill,” your voice is once again weak and you know you’re not convincing anyone.

“Just like Jimin is this week,” Jin gives you a knowing look that has you withdrawing back into your seat.

“I – well – I,” you stutter.

“I’m joking Y/N,” Jin says letting out a small squeaky laugh that you don’t react to. “It’s nice to have you back. And I’m sure Jimin isn’t gone for good, only a week or two.” He says the words more sincerely and you give him a small smile even though your heart aches.

You can’t concentrate throughout the whole quiz, you had expected you’d be like this, but you thought it would be due to Jimin's presence not his absence. You manage to at least pretend to be involved, giving the occasional answer to the obvious questions you know, giving half-hearted laughs when everyone else does, getting in the round of drinks. But you truly just want to leave, go home and get into bed. You wish you hadn’t come at all.

You really hadn’t thought twice that Jimin wouldn’t be here, not just because he had said so when he had left your house that night, but also because surely you hadn’t hurt him this badly? Sure, you had been wallowing in self-pity for the last few days, if not the last week since thinking Jimin slept with Izzy, but you had come to the pub quiz even when you hadn’t wanted to. You didn’t know for sure that he wasn’t actually just ill, but you were pretty sure that was bullshit. He wasn’t here because of you.

Even Jin had implied it, Jimin would only be gone for a week or two, who says that when they think that person isn’t here because of illness? What illness lingers that long if not something serious that you would have heard about? You were sure that everyone around the table knew about what you and Jimin were up to, if not for the awkwardness when they told you about Izzy, then for the concerned looks they keep shooting you tonight. Yep, Jimin definitely wasn’t here tonight because of you, because of what you had done to him, because you had broken his heart.

And even after he had said as much the other day when he turned up at your door, it only feels like it hits you now. Jimin had been as all in as you, if not more, because he had wanted to tell people, he had wanted to flaunt you around, he didn’t care what people thought because he was with you and that’s all that matters. That’s all that should have mattered. All this time you had thought it was just you that held all the feelings, that you were falling too quickly and too deeply and that Jimin would break your heart. And all this time it had been the complete opposite.

You’re only vaguely aware that the quiz has ended and you’re now in the break before the answers are read out. You may as well have not come for all the help you’d been. You’d not even added anything to the social side of the night, if anything you’d probably taken away some of the fun.

“Jimin’s really upset about what happened.”

You look up to Yoongi sat opposite you, Connie had excused herself for the toilet and Jin was currently stood at the bar waiting to be served, leaving just you and Yoongi at the table. Something must have shown on your face as he lightly curses before carrying on.

“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that he really likes you,” he tries to amend.

“I think you mean liked,” you don’t mean the words to be such a jab, but you blame your foul mood. Yoongi just rolls his eyes.

“Have you spoken to him?”

“He came to mine on the weekend,” you shrug and swallow the emotions that rise in your throat. You really didn’t want to cry right now, but just the thought of Jimin stood on your door step brought the emotion up within you.

“Yeah, I meant since then,” Yoongi says.

“Why would we?”

“Oh, I don’t know, to talk about whatever is going on? To get your feelings out in the open? To stop being such idiots?” The sarcasm drips off every word.

“Jimin made his feelings towards me perfectly clear when he last spoke to me.” You don’t question how Yoongi seems to know so much about the situation you found yourself in, and even though you aren’t exactly asking for help (if anything you’re almost pushing him away), you want to know what he thinks on the matter.

“Did I mention the idiots part?”

“Once or twice.”

Yoongi lets out a small sigh as he regards you. You merely hold his stare as he leans into the table, getting an inch or two closer to you.

“Do you want to know why I bet that Jimin would never take Izzy home?”

His comment throws you off guard, confusion sweeping across your face as your mind tries to catch up. By the time you finally realise that he’s talk about the bet from weeks ago (again), the one where everyone bet when Jimin would bed Izzy, the one which you supposedly won which led you into your current mess, Yoongi is already talking again.

“It’s because I knew he, or at least expected, that he would never take her home, because of how he felt about you. You may look at him with heart eyes Y/N, but he looks at you the same way. The respect and pure adoration in his eyes if clear to everyone but you, and that’s only because you’re an idiot that doesn’t think she’s good enough for anyone.”

“Do you want to call me an idiot one more time?” A small gummy smile breaks out on Yoongis face at the fact that you’re back to joking, but your mind only seems to pound more with the new and confusing information.

“Jimin likes you Y/N, not liked.”

“But, Becky,” are the only words that manage to escape your mouth. The barmaid that he had gone out with a few months ago, the one who had changed her shifts so that she didn’t have to see Jimin at the pub quiz.

“I don’t know enough about that, but that was months before you, and maybe he felt the same way as you; that you were out his reach and would never be an option.”

You nod your head at his words, it was months ago, and it didn’t really bother you. Even if Jimin had held a flame for you back then, you wouldn’t have expected him to be celibate while waiting for you. You certainly hadn’t been for him. It had started before Yoongi started talking, had started when you realised Jimin wasn’t here because of you, but the more Yoongi talks the more it feels like the puzzle pieces start to click into place.

“You should talk to Jimin,” Yoongi almost eggs you on, as if seeing into your mind.

Your eyes are wide as you look at him. As if the words are the epiphany you needed. And as you push your chair back and leap to your feet, you see Yoongi jump in surprise. Maybe he hadn’t meant you need to speak to Jimin literally now, but you couldn’t wait any longer.

Jin comes back to the table at this moment, placing the drinks down on the table he looks at you with a confused but concerned look.

“I have to go,” you say to him in explanation, looking down at Yoongi hoping you convey that you wanted him to explain what was going on, and also that you were thankful to him. The wink he gives you is enough for you to grab your bag and bolt out of the pub.

“Are you not staying for the answers again?” Is the last thing you hear Jin shout as the door closes behind you. You don’t even look back. You almost run to Jimins door. It's further than your house, but not by much, especially when you don’t take the detour past yours like he always does.

You don’t think as you head towards his door. You don’t consider what you’re going to say to him, you don’t come up with a speech or think of a list of all the ways you’ve fucked up. You just think about getting to his door, and the rhythm of your feet stepping one in front of the other, and before you know it, his door looms before you. Even then, you don’t stop, don’t give yourself time to catch your breath or your wits as you knock on his door.

It almost exactly reflects what happened on the weekend, but now you’re the one knocking on Jimins door, and you’re pretty sure that while you almost definitely look as shit as he did, you probably also look a bit deranged. The way you fidget waiting for the door to open, your nerves causing a craziness to glint in your eyes, your hair a mess from the windy walk; you definitely don’t look as good as Jimin does when in distress.

All of this starts to deflate, as you try knocking again, this time a bit harder, but still after a few seconds no one answers.

He knows it’s you, and he’s choosing to ignore it, you think as you stand looking at the outside of his door. The egg green paint on the door almost laughs in your face as you stare at it. It feels like it’s mocking you for being so stupid to think that he would give you the time of day. You had a chance to try and fight for him when he was at your door and you’d thrown it away by saying nothing. What made you think he’d give you a chance now?

Your fidgeting stops, shoulders sag, the hope from walking here dissipates into the air. You shouldn’t have left it so long. You’d thrown your chance away when you didn’t run to him that night you watched him walk away from your house.

Deflated, you turn and start the seemingly long commute back to your own house. But as you walk down his front path and reach his gate, you hear the noise of a lock turning. Pausing at the end of his drive, you turn back to the door, a new hope sparking within you.

Slowly, as if building for a dramatic unveiling, Jimins front door opens. And stood behind it, as if by magic, the man himself stands. Again, you have to wonder how someone can look so good while also looking so utterly shit. He’s in some light grey sweats, his hair a fluffy mess, his eyes slightly puffy as if he’s recently cried. You want to run and sweep him into a massive hug and beg for his forgiveness, but you both stay still like statues, eyes boring into each other.

“You didn’t come to the quiz,” you aren’t sure he can hear the words as he stands around 5 meters away, and your voice comes out soft. You hope he doesn’t hear the stupid words that slip out of your mouth, this is why you should have planned a speech on your walk here.

“Didn’t feel like it,” he shrugs.

Tentatively, you take a step back past his gate. It doesn’t close the distance between the two of you by much, but it feels like you’re universes closer.

“Jimin,” his name comes out like a sigh as emotion rises within you. You push it all down, you needed to get all of this out before you got too emotional to speak. “I’m so, so sorry.”

He continues to stare at you in silence, as if waiting for you to continue, to explain. So you do.

“I’m an idiot. You once said I’m smart, but I’m not, I’m the most stupid, idiotic, brainless, moronic person to ever exist. Because I had you, I had you, and I threw it all away like the foolish person I am,” you take a breath to steady yourself, and you think you see a small smile playing on Jimins lips, but your too far away to be sure, and you don’t allow yourself to hope. “Because I meant it when I said I like you Jimin, like really like you. In fact, I think I might love you,” you don’t stop as you say the words, don’t even think about how much of a declaration they are, because you realise they’re true and you’re no longer afraid to admit it.

Your confidence grows as the words continue, and as you talk you start to slowly walk towards Jimin. “I’m not saying this to get your forgiveness, I don’t deserve that. I’m saying it so you know the truth, because that’s what you deserve. I was so scared, scared that you’d break my heart, scared that I wasn’t good enough for you, scared that I was falling for you too deeply. And that made me do some stupid things without thinking. I should have talked to you rather than taken all this on on my own, I should have told you how I felt, because as scary as that felt, at least then you would have known.”

By the time you finish you’re stood back on his doorstep. There’s still a good half a meter between the two of you, but you can at least see his face more clearly now. He gives nothing away as he looks at you, face emotionless as his hand rests on the door, ready to close it on your face at any given second.

A few seconds pass in silence, and you wonder if he’ll ever talk. You meant it when you said you didn’t come here for forgiveness. You didn’t expect it and you didn’t deserve it.

“You were wrong,” you said, and his eyebrows flinch upwards, the first sign of any emotion. “It wasn’t because I didn’t trust you or because I thought you were capable of doing it. It was because I thought you were too good for me, that I didn’t deserve someone as amazing as you.”

His eyes flick across your face, eyebrows pinched together.

“Why would you think that?” His voice is gravelly, as if he hasn’t spoken in days.

You laugh at him. “Have you looked in the mirror?”

“I could say the same to you,” he replies. “I thought I made it clear what I thought of you, what I thought of your body.”

You flush at the memories of just how he had shown you how much he had liked your body. You don’t know how to reply, but are saved of coming up with an answer when Jimin speaks.

“You really hurt me,” his throat bobs as he swallows, and your heart aches for him.

“I was shit,” you agree.

“And I’m not sure I can forgive you.”

“I don’t expect you to,” you whisper.

“But, I’m willing to try.”

Your eyes widen, heart speeding up as if it’s trying to escape your chest.

“What?”

“You love me?” The smile you thought you saw earlier starts to show on his face again. “And you’re moronic?”

“I – I – I was really dumb,” you stumble on your words.

This time he’s the one that closes the gap. Leaving the door open, he steps away from it towards you. You have to look up to keep looking into his eyes.

“But, you love me?” He repeats, his teeth now showing as he smiles.

“I love you,” you say it with everything you have, with every fibre of your being. “I love you so fucking much.”

His hands come out to grab your waist, and as he leans down, his hands pull you into him. The gap is finally closed, his lips press against yours, hot and fast.

“You have a lot of making up to do,” he says against your lips before kissing you again and you can only hum against his lips.

“What do you suggest?” You say when he lets you breathe.

“I have a few suggestions,” he says, before again reconnecting your lips.

“I’m ready to start when you are,” you say.

He laughs, grabbing your hand and tugging you towards his door.

“I’ll be happy to show you what I want,” he says as he pulls you through his door.

“Question 8.”

It’s been 3 weeks since the night you told Jimin you loved him. It took him a few days, but he finally returned the words. As promised, he made you work for his forgiveness, but he said you had finally achieved it. You weren’t convinced, you would never be able to forgive yourself for any of it and you were willing to work forever to make it up to him and to show him just how much you trust and love him.

You finally told everyone too. Straight after you had your first round of making it up to him, you text the group chat (the one with Jimin in), and shared the news. Unsurprisingly, everyone already knew, but they still feigned surprise, and were ultimately happy for you.

Nothing much has really changed. You don’t know why you were so scared, because life with Jimin was bliss, but life with Jimin and everyone knowing you’re together was heaven. Even sat at the pub quiz, his hand linked with yours on the table, felt so small, yet it felt natural and like home.

“Question 8,” the quiz host repeats as everyone quietens down. “Cher saved what lonely animal from a zoo in Pakistan?”

“Was it you Yoongi?” Jin says, struggling to keep a straight face as he looks at the man.

You let out a small chuckle at the words, but instantly go quiet from the look Yoongi shoots you. You think Jimins hand might even tighten around yours protectively.

“I’m going to pretend that that was one of your silly jokes, and you weren’t either comparing me to a caged animal, or worse, comparing me to a lonely elephant,” Yoongi says the words remarkably calmly to Jin.

“Oh, I was definitely comparing you to an elephant,” Jin says deadly serious.

You think Yoongi might punch Jin, but instead he looks down at the answer sheet and scribbles something down. Jin picks up his drink and gives you a wink. You will forever question how their relationship works.

“Question 9. Joe Exotic became famous as the Tiger King in a Netflix original show, but who made a documentary on him years before in 2011? That’s, who interviewed Joe Exotic years before Netflix?”

“Dave Attenborough? Tiger King is pretty close to Blue Planet, and Attenborough is pretty ahead of his time,” Jin says.

“Somehow I can’t see David Attenborough interviewing Joe Exotic,” you say.

“Shame, it would have made one hell of a show,” Jin replies and you can’t disagree.

“Come on, name some famous interviewers or documentary makers,” Yoongi taps the pencil on the table.

“Stacey Dooley?” You suggest gaining your own eye roll from Yoongi.

“Ross Kemp? Now that would have been a great show,” Jimin says.

“Simon Reeves?” You try again.

“Are you even trying Y/N,” Yoongi deadpans.

“Hey, I’m trying. And I don’t see Jimins suggestion getting this treatment,” you snap at him.

“It’s because Ross Kemp was a banging answer,” Jimin says, squeezing the hand again to show he’s joking.

“Are you guys serious?” Connie cuts across your talk, causing all eyes to go to her. “You really don’t know the answer?”

You can almost see the excitement in her eyes at the prospect of knowing something that no one else does. You just hope this isn’t a repeat of a few weeks prior, when she in fact did not know the answer.

“I seriously don’t know the answer,” Yoongi prompts, while everyone else remains silent, waiting for Connie to speak.

“But it’s so obvious. Like, it’s so famous and they did a revisit to it because of how popular the Netflix show was. I can’t believe you guys don’t know.”

“Well you better believe it, because I also have no inkling,” Jin chips in.

“God, I just can’t get over that I’m the only one that knows this,” Connie carries on.

“This better be right,” Yoongi sighs, but you can see the ghost of a smile on his lips as he watches Connies excitement.

“Louis Theroux,” Connie finally says and you all groan with realisation. It seemed so obvious when it was spelt out. “God, I’m never going to forget this,” Connie beams at you all.

“The day you catch Jin not knowing an answer is a day to mark indeed,” Jin says before taking a swig of his drink. You’re unsure why he’s talking in third person, or why he’s acting like it’s not a weekly occurrence that he doesn’t know any answer, but you feel so happy that you can’t help but also beam at him.

“And finally, question 10,” the quiz master booms. “How many letter tiles are in a game of scrabble? That’s letter tiles in a game of scrabble. Another great week guys, don’t forget drinks and snacks before the answers.”

“Is it not 26?” Connie says.

“No, it’s not how many letters in the alphabet, but how many tiles,” Jin says, and Connie lets out an ah, though still doesn’t look convinced about what the question is. Back to the old Connie so soon. “I have no idea though,” Jin admits.

“Well, you’ve probably never played anything as intellectual as scrabble Jin, so we won’t expect you to know,” you say.

“Oh, burn,” Jin laughs. “I thought we gathered I’m fun, so scrabble is definitely not on my agenda.”

“Touche,” you smile at him.

“Well now I feel lame for knowing the answer,” Jimin says.

“You know the answer?” You say with wide eyes and realise how that doesn’t help the situation. “I just mean, that’s not lame. In fact, it’s super-hot.”

“Gross,” Jin comments.

“Super-hot?” Jimin smirks at you.

“Yeah, being smart is hot,” you say.

“Well in that case,” Jimin looks at Yoongi. “It’s 100.”

“Yeah, already wrote it down,” Yoongi replies, holding up the answer sheet as evidence, and you nearly die of laughter at the face that Jimin pulls.

You lean into his ear. “Don’t worry, I still think you’re super-hot,” you whisper.

“Gross,” Jin repeats, this time slightly louder.

Pulling away from Jimin you plant a kiss on his cheek, before sitting back in your chair.

You are so undeniably happy in this moment. Surrounded by all the people you love, that you can’t help the smile that falls across your face. Things couldn’t have worked out any better. You will never be so stupid to guess what Jimin is thinking without talking to him first. You will always trust him, and always love him with your whole heart. You can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

“You know, I think we have smashed it this week,” Jin says. “Who needs Joon on their team after all?”

[harryhoney-bee]

I'm feeling really soft and fuzzy today, So if I can request something I want to do that abeja 🐝💓

#Concept: Nightly routine with y/n and Harry- parents of two little babies.

Tag me if you write this baby ✨✨

Adore you alot 💕

Night Routine

Warning: your ovaries might explode... mine did 🤚🏻 I would give this man 9 children if he asked.

Word count: 1.7k

I have a kofi, so please consider buying me coffee if you can <3

I hope you enjoy it!! Let me know what you think 😚

“But I want to take a beth with him, daddy,” Cecília whined to Harry, while he undressed her, putting her new pajamas and towel on the bathroom counter.

“My little darling, he is still little, he can’t take bath with you,” Harry explained, taking Cecí on his lap and putting her inside the warm tub, handing her some of her favorite toys. “Lorenzo is just 6 months, he’s not as big as you.”

Harry made a bowl with his hands, wetting her curly hair and applying shampoo, a pout still on her face. “Please, daddy?” she said, her chubby hand grabbing his arm. Cecí had already mastered her puppy eyes technique, and she knew how much her dad had a weak spot for her.

“Alright, alright,” He finally gave in, “but he will stay outside of the tub, he doesn’t know how to sit by himself.”

“Thank you, daddy!” The girl splashed water around in excitement, which made Harry smile. That’s how he always wanted to see her: happy and healthy.

Harry went to the door, keeping an eye on the girl in the tub. “Baby? Are you done nursing? Cecí wants to see Lorenzo,” he tried to call his wife as loud as he could while being mindful of Lorenzo, who could be asleep by now. He never wanted to alarm any of him or Cecília with his loud voice.

In a matter of seconds, Y/n appeared in the hallway, a confused expression on her face while Lorenzo was calmly laying down on her arms, his little hands resting on Y/n’s shoulders. “What’s wrong? Why does she want to see him? We just had diner together,” she asked, heading in Harry’s direction.

“I’m not sure, guess she just missed him,” Harry answered, giving his wife a kiss on the forehead and bending down to talk to a very awake Lorenzo. “But who wouldn’t miss you, huh? Such a cutie, right buddy?” he was aware that using a baby voice wasn’t the best, but he couldn’t help, Lorenzo was just extremely adorable.

“Mommy! Enzo!” Cecília called, from the opposite side of the bathroom, “come here mommy, miss you too.”

Y/n sat on the bathroom floor, Lorenzo still with her. “Hey, my heart, having a good bath with daddy?” she asked at the same time Harry sat down by her side and hugged her from the side, laying his chin on her head.

“Yeah! Daddy always let me play,” Cecília took one of the yellow ducks and showed her mom, “This is Mc Duck.”

“Wow, he’s a very beautiful duck isn’t he?” She asked, giving Lorenzo to Harry while kneeling near the bathtub since Cecí still had to wash her hair, Y/n gently took the excess of shampoo from the girl’s hair, while Harry tried to keep Lorenzo entertained by singing him a silly song.

“He is, I love yellow,” the little girl admitted, “I think Lorenzo loves yellows too.”

“And why do you think that, Cecí?” Harry asked amused while pretending to eat the boy’s fingers.

“Because we’re are best friends,” She said as if the answer was obvious, “and friends like the same things.” Y/n and Harry looked at each other and laughed, for a five-year-old girl she knew a lot about relationships.

“Oh, how do you know that?” Y/n asked, finishing washing her hair, letting Cecília enjoy her time in the bath.

“Because you and daddy are best friends, you wear the same clothes sometimes, listen to the same music, and watch the same movies,” with every new topic she would count down on her fingers, it was quite a comical sight.

Harry’s chuckle filled the room, the baby on his lap giggled too. “Well, my little lady, you are right. But friends can also like different things, too,” he told her. “Me and mommy like a lot of similar things, but we also have our preferences.”

“Exactly, daddy loves bananas, but I don’t” y/n complemented, getting Cecília out of the tub, helping her into some warm clothes, “I don’t like to work out, but your dad always wakes up early to go for a run, see? We like different things but we still love each other.”

Harry got up from the floor, rocking Lorenzo softly, his heavy eyes indicating how sleepy the baby was. He took the combing cream in his hand and began combing Cecília’s curls with one hand, while his other arm held Lorenzo. Being a father of two made him very talented at doing two things at the same time. While he did that, Y/n was getting Cecí’s toothpaste ready.

“Daddy, do you love mommy even if she doesn’t go running with you?” Cecí asked, before opening her mouth so Y/n could brush her teeth. Normally they would let Cecília do it by herself, with their supervision, but it was already late and the couple desperately needed to get the children to bed, or else their routine would be messed up. Good thing Lorenzo seemed to be falling asleep already.

“Of course I do! We don’t love people just because they do the same things we do, we love people because they are kind and respectful to us, yeah?” Harry said, looking at Y/n and blowing her a kiss. This is what he loved the most about parenthood: watching the kids growing into their best version.

Parenting was made in many different ways, but the couple especially loved having these kinds of conversations. Even though Cecília was still young, she was already beginning to comprehend what love and friendships were, and Harry and Y/n had the privilege to teach her that.

Harry finished her hair, putting the brush and the products in their place under the sink while Y/n put on some socks on Cecí’s feet, the little girl was yawning, seeming tired. Lorenzo started to fussy on Harry’s arms.

“Guess it’s time to sleep, huh?” Harry said, caressing Cecílias head, “Tired, my baby? Want daddy to read a bedtime story to you? Or do you want mommy?” At the same time he mentioned Y/n, Lorenzo started to soft cry. “Hey, what’s wrong?” Harry asked, looking down at the upset’s baby face.”

Y/n took his from Harry’s arms, cuddling him closer to her chest, “What do you want, Enzo? Mommy just fed you” she looked at her husband, “I’ll nurse him again on the bed, he’s probably just a bit agitated, will you put her to sleep?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The woman kissed Cecília on the forehead, “have a good night, ok, baby? Mommy will take you to the playground tomorrow, alright?”

“Ok mommy, I love you and little bro too,” she said, giving a hug to her mom before she disappeared through the door with the crying baby.

Harry took Cecília by her small hand, leading them to her room, just by the side of the main suite, where the couple slept. He guided the little girl to her bed, giving her all of her favorite stuffed animals, and covered Cecília in her Lilac duvet.

“What story do you want today?

“The pirate one, please,” she asked, laying her head on the pillow as Harry went to her bookshelf, picking the one with the title Pirate’s cove. He sat by the end of the bed and began telling the story.

“I have a story for you, a story of untold riches and a young lad who found them. And who am I, you ask? Well, I am the spirit of the sand-dollar, a pirate and a buccaneer, Captain of the seahorse, the finest ship to ever sail the seven seas…”

Harry would occasionally stop to answer any questions Cecília had, but after 15 minutes he was done with the book and the girl was fast asleep, hugging tight to her little lamb. He made sure she was tucked in and turned off the lights (besides the one on the side of Cecília’s bed, she was scared to sleep in a pitch-black room), he closed the door and headed to his bedroom.

To Harry’s surprise, Lorenzo was sleeping in his bassinet by the side of the mattress. He usually would sleep in his nursery, but today just seemed like an off day to the little boy. Harry got closer to him, stroking the chubby cheeks, “Oh my little bug, did mommy let you sleep here with us? You’re not feeling fine?”

“I think he’s teething,” Y/n said in a raspy voice, taking her head from the pillow, “he’s even a bit warmer than usual, I think his gums are itching.”

“My poor baby,” Harry mumbled, turning his head to Y/n, “I hate seeing him upset, maybe we could make some homemade Popsicle, it helped when Cecília was teething.”

“Yeah, we can try that, we can make them tomorrow.” she patted the mattress, “now please come to bed, he did a number on me, I’m so tired.”

“Alright baby,” Harry took off his shirt, standing only in sweatpants, he went to the bed, laying by Y/n side, one arm hooked on her waist as she cuddled to him, placing her head on his shoulder.

“I’m so lucky to have you,” Y/n said against his neck.

“Oh baby, I am the lu--”

“--I mean, how many husbands would still love their wives even if they wouldn’t go jogging at 6 in the morning?” she said teasingly, her giggles reaching his ear.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “you are making a lot of jokes for someone who is tired,” he kissed her temple. “I’m gonna wake you up at 5 am tomorrow, so we can be fitness together.”

“Don’t you dare! You do that and your plan of being a father to three it’s over.”

“Damn sweetheart, that’s not very nice, huh?”

“You’re the one who started,” she said, before closing her eyes, snuggling to Harry’s body. The man placed a hand on her belly, falling asleep minutes later.

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