#all anyone ever told me about this story was that it had an all-female cast and i think a lot of boothe's storytelling methods

[britneyshakespeare]

well i finished the women (1936) by clare boothe luce. i did not like that as much as i was expecting.

[keepingitformyself]

we might just get away with it (i)

A/N: hey all!!! this is the first part of my first ever series, i’ve had this one in the drafts for a while and i’ll try my best to update it as much as i can. a-lot of this first part is just setting up readers life until their eventual meet with natasha (who goes by natalie rushman in this) this is an AU. HOPE YOU ENJOY!!!! i had a lot of fun writing this one.

ALSO: in honor of scarlett johansson opening an instagram account.

synopsis: hollywood is a tricky place for someone new like you, a certain elusive redhead is hoping for you to let her in.

pairings: writer!natasha romanoff x youngactress!reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: none.

part two found here. part ii

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

—————————

you hadn’t been in the dating scene since you graduated college two years ago. it was a long time to go without going on a proper date with anyone, even your mother had called at one point to voice her concerns on why her only daughter hadn’t brought anyone back home to introduce.

truth be told, the mere idea of a relationship really stressed you out. especially now that you’ve been working tirelessly since the second you left college. the week after graduation your plane had already been booked four months in advance when you found out you landed the role for a lead in a film.

you left your hometown in texas and flew to la for a three month shoot. it was only in post-production for five months before the first teaser dropped and two months later the film finally hit hbo max to stream.

the success of it was enough to earn you an online following. people within the industry had reached out in hopes of getting to know you or even work with you. and now people knew your name enough for you to have been stopped a handful of times during grocery runs.

it was back to work in getting auditions and doing things that kept your artist mind flowing. it wasn’t too long before you landed a role for another lead in a netflix series.

the director of the series was a well known one. greta gerwig, it was her first time directing for tv as opposed to film, she told you she was truly impressed by your delivery in the film you’d been in months prior. you felt incredibly lucky to have even been thought of for her leading girl.

you told her you were a fan of the work she’d done. how you truly cherished her way of encapsulating the female experience through her writing and directing.

she smiled gratefully and said she hoped you’d be willing to accept the role she was practically offering to you, you knew she was just teasing. no one was stupid enough to let an opportunity like this pass. you said yes without hesitance.

it was a lot more intimidating this time around.

you were set to shoot for six months in london. a whole different country thousands of miles away from friends and family. you left home two months later.

greta was amazing, the sets were amazing, the cast was amazing, the crew you were especially grateful for. you made sure they knew that by ordering a free coffee and pastry truck to set every friday.

some of it comes as a blur to you. it’s easy to get lost in the craft when you love it so much, your mother told you once. you worked tirelessly often times worrying the ones around you but you promised you were fine. it was very easy for others to say how lovable and playful you were while still being able to maintain the professionalism that was needed on set.

it’s what they loved most about you. so it was no surprise to anyone when there started to be some conversations involving you, the star, and the series.

there had been mutterings between crew and even your own cast-mates.

you were in the city today, sat outside a corner coffee shop in mayfair. devyn, a cast mate of yours, and self proclaimed local, offered to show you around london.

‘i heard gary, one of our light technicians say that he heard the producers talk about how they’re expecting a huge rollout once they start announcing the series.’ devyn said as he sipped on his latte.

‘what do you mean?’ you took your eyes off the busy street to look at your cast mate.

‘you’re an absolute powerhouse in this series, you know that right?’ he told you seriously. ‘everyone sees it, there’s no doubt this show is gonna get big. they’re already expecting it to be.’

you cringed at his words, you were never good for taking compliments. ‘oh god, please stop.’ he smiled with a shake of his head, a look on his face that screamed, you’ll see.

turns out devyn was definitely not talking out of his ass.

greta had started to pull you out for meetings with the producers. they spoke to you about how netflix was willing to go all in for promoting.

greta told you herself, ‘although netlfix will definitely be a big help, i think just the show on its own is already set for a very promising release.’

they had you sign contracts and explained to you what would happen once filming was over. 1. you’re gonna go home and take a well needed three month break. 2. prepare yourself for what’s to come. 3. then you were to be called back in for promo shoots and teaser reels. 4. get ready for the big premiere.

‘it’s gonna be a lot, there’s no way of knowing the scale of success this will reach except that it will be huge, and a lot of that will be you.’ tony, one of the producers told you. greta along with everyone else in the meeting nodded to his words.

‘yeah, some stills from some of the finished scenes released a few weeks ago. it’s easy to say a lot of people seemed to make noise from that.’ rhys, another producer said.

your blood ran cold. although it was easy to say you were proud of how far you were able to come on such a short notice… it also sort of felt like a lot was being thrown at you all at once.

you maybe had an idea of what your life would be looking like afterwards. you remember seeing all sorts of opinions once it was found out by the world that you’d be the next lead for greta gerwig’s first ever series.

mostly everyone was excited. greta on her own was an insanely talented writer and director, people were happy to hear she’d be turning to tv and seeing what she’d come up with. you remember the week following the announcement feeling a little overwhelmed, all due to the men in cameras who had followed you around for a week.

‘rising actress Y/N Y/L/N seen leaving her west hollywood condo ahead of reports saying that she’s been casted for the lead in greta gerwig’s next directorial project.’

you’re thinking that maybe life will look like that but multiplied by a thousand, but you’re hoping not…? the success part will be great. why wouldn’t it be? it’s all you’ve ever wanted. to be a successful actress. but at the expense of having your life put on a pedestal? it was a very tricky thing to play at.

greta gave you a smile, almost teasing, like she knew the big secret that everyone else didn’t.

she leaned forward with her arms crossed on the table. ‘once this is over, it will never truly be over. are you ready for it?’

nothing could have ever prepared you enough for what would come with the release of the series. if you thought everyone knew your name before, they definitely do now.

the release of the series was just seven months after you finished filming it. it definitely had a huge rollout like everyone else said it would. you don’t remember much of the premier either. it was a bunch of flashes and getting asked questions. as soon as you got home you knocked out cold.

number one in seventy three countries was a lot. you wouldn’t even want to imagine the amount of people it took to watch you for that to happen.

but with the success of the series also came a huge amount of scrutiny on your personal life. within the week of its release you’d had an influx of followers on any social platform they could find you on.

apparently that still wasn’t enough. people were itching to know more about the new girl that had come out of nowhere and stolen their attention in just a week.

it was all very scary. it was all mostly positive, at least the things you’ve seen and been shown. your agent and team did a great job at keeping you away from all the bad. you still knew it was all there though. people loved you but people also really disliked you.

you’ve also come to learn that people chronically online are insane. especially if you give them something to hyper fixate on, you knew of the tweets and posts people had been making of you. it made you absolutely freak out how fast people were to find out every little thing there was to know about you in such a short time.

‘i want you to go home for the week. not home in LA, home as in with your mom.’ samantha, your agent, told you. samantha along with your publicist fred, had seen firsthand what was being said online. she’s been in the industry long enough to know how ugly it can get for the victims, you were young and she wanted to protect you from that as much as possible.

‘i called your mom, she’s already expecting you home by tomorrow morning. your plane leaves at midnight.’ you nodded gratefully. the tension in your shoulders had slouched a little after hearing that. you missed your mom and you were scared as shit right now.

samantha was there in the uber when you were dropped off. she bid you goodbye and told you she’d call you for details on the next flight back to LA. ‘rest as much as you can, the press tour is gonna hit real hard.’

now came the insanely difficult part. the week back home went too fast and now you’re on a plane back to LA where your agent and a stylist were awaiting your arrival.

as soon as you’re off the gate a beefy man in jeans and a polo helps to escort you towards your luggage and eventually the car. ‘ma’am, just a heads up. there’s paps.’ he tells you before quickly ushering you out the glass doors and into the suv.

you don’t remember much after that. just that as soon as you arrived to your condo you were quickly pushed into a room with a stylist and pushed into another car after that.

the week had gone fast for the amount you’ve been doing. you’d met up with your cast-mates for the first time in a while and you were happy for that. most days it was just going to interviews answering questions, promoting, playing question games, more questions, etc…

it was finally friday. but promo was far from over. ‘you’re flying out tomorrow morning to new york and then we’re off to europe for the week.’

tonight was the huge post-premier party for the series. it was expected that there’d be quite a few well known names attending tonight aside from the cast. although a part of you was dreading another night of questions and just overall socializing, you knew it was needed to network.

cameras flashed in your face and people shouted your name upon arrival, but people were quick to let you in. ‘there’s a lot of people who want to speak with you.’ samantha tells you. you nod and put on your best brave face for the night.

samantha lingers around you as you cycle through speaking with all kinds of people. producers, actors, writers and the like. the first two hours fly by and things have reached some sort of stasis by then.

you’re in the middle of a conversation with some cast mates when tony— who you recognize as one of your producers— walks up to you with a redhead in tow.

‘the woman of the hour!’ he raises his arms to hug you.

‘i have to introduce you to natalie! she’s an excellent writer!’ the redhead next to him who you now know as natalie lets out a dry laugh at the man’s words. he was very obviously drunk.

and you see now that she is very obviously attractive.

she takes a few steps towards you and sticks out her hand for you to shake.

‘i hear you’re the talk of the town. have not stopped reading about you online.’ the smirk she wears makes you appreciate her beauty even more.

it was true. you were everywhere— in the tabloids, the headlines…natasha indulged in every single piece of information about you that she came across.

she also might’ve convinced tony to somehow introduce you two when she found out he was working with you.

she was a fan since your last film, and as a working screenwriter for film and television, she caught a bit of inspiration from seeing you on her screen.

‘i’ve gotta say, i was really impressed by your performance in this show. greta is a long time friend, she did good in choosing you.’ natalie compliments.

‘oh, thank you! it was a pleasure to work with her…she’s great.’ you cringe at your words. you still aren’t any better at taking these compliments no matter how many you get.

natalie smiles at you in silent understanding. she’s picked up on the small awkwardness that underlies the conversation.

you let out a low huff and motion towards the bartender to get you a shot of tequila. natalie quirks an eyebrow at your order but doesn’t question it.

‘do you want a drink?’ you turn to natalie with a smile. not only is your social battery slowly starting to diminish but talking to someone like natalie will have you saying nonsense.

you figure you’ll need a drink if you’re gonna continue to speak with her.

‘a diet coke will do me right. i’m driving home tonight.’ she says, the bartender nods and fixes your drinks.

an hour later and the drinks are sure to have calmed you down. in fact they’ve done more than just calm you down.

natalie and you spend a long while talking about anything and everything. you bond over being major nerds when it comes to philosophy. she tells you about how she double majored in philosophy and english at nyu.

‘my love for english had always existed but after taking a philosophy course my freshman year, it’s like i needed to write about these things that were talked about. i needed people to see what i thought about.’ natalie explains to you.

you’ve come to enjoy natalie despite only have met her about an hour and a half ago.

you tell her about how you were a huge thespian in high school and entering college, how philosophy was an added bonus when you figured out they both go very well together.

you’re grasping her arm as you explain it to her.

‘i mean genuinely i would hear so much about aristotle in my ethics class and then he’d somehow be connected to creating the 6 elements of a play! how crazy is that?!’

natalie is trying hard to concentrate on your words. you’d think it’d be a lot easier for her given the fact that she hasn’t had a single drop of alcohol…but all she can pay attention to is your lips. how they’ve now plumped up slightly due to your drinking.

she’s completely smitten with you by now, and she’s just met you. you’re definitely not like what the internet makes you out to be. for the most part, it really is just the alcohol in you.

you continue to ramble on.

‘honestly, i think socrates is good guy— like he has some great ideas but it’s kinda annoying how he thinks his way is the only way and he makes it his entire personality— ugh hold on i need to go piss.’

you’re clearly too drunk to care about what words leave your mouth. natalie doesn’t seem to mind it— and quite frankly neither do you.

‘do you need help getting there?’ natalie is quick to ask. all in good intentions, of course.

‘uhhh, yeah.’ you’re quick to agree. you have a rule, always travel in pairs when alcohol is present.

your arm is hooked to natalie’s as she helps lead you to the restrooms. it’s here when you get a slight whiff of her. you cringe at how weird you think of it in your head.

but she smells awfully appealing. like suede, lemon and a fireplace. all combined.

‘you smell really nice,’ you say, too worried about your bladder to care.

you feel vibrations of a chuckle leave natalie, you smile when you see her smiling too.

you nearly run into a stall as soon as you’re in the seemingly empty bathroom, thank god, you think. pee anxiety is a real thing.

you feel a little more level headed after doing your business. natalie waits by the door staring as you dry your hands.

‘feel better?’ you hear her ask.

‘much,’ you smile, a drunk one, your mind a little hazy.

‘i had a fun time tonight, with you, i mean.’ you find yourself saying.

she quirks an eyebrow. you continue.

‘i’ve had a really stressful past few weeks, it was nice to just…drink and talk knowing my words wouldn’t be plastered on some magazine issue the next day.’ you finish. your body is still buzzing. the alcohol making your body slightly move in place. but nonetheless you feel oddly content.

natalie smiles. a really big one.

‘i’m glad i could help take the edge off,’ she says.

you chuckle, turn to the mirror and make sure your makeup is still in place. a ding from your phone makes itself known, indicating a message. you dig through your clutch bag to get it.

we’re leaving now, you have an early start. plane to nyc leaves at 7:35am.

the text message from samantha reads.

you huff.

‘sorry to cut this short, natalie. my presence is needed near the entrance. i have to be in new york tomorrow before noon.’ you smile apologetically

she smiles. a part of her wasn’t surprised at all. you’re you, and everyone wants to be around you. she was surprised she even had your attention for more than an hour.

she nods. ‘i get it, can i ask why though?’

‘interview with fallon, i think.’ is all you say before you step closer to the redhead and press a kiss to her cheek. you think nothing of it.

‘truly, it was lovely to meet you natalie.’ and she doesn’t have the chance to reply before you’re out the restroom door.

natalie realizes she never got your number.

two days later, she’s made it back to her home in new york. natalie decides to shake off the jet lag with late night televison and a glass of wine in hand.

ironically, jimmy fallon is on.

‘please welcome…!’ and she sees you appear before her.

she is so captivated, she doesn’t realize she’s finished the bottle of pinot grigio next to her.

stupid as it sounds, this is when natalie rushman decided she wanted to be a part of whatever world you were creating for yourself.

[dangermousie]

Ok, 13 eps in and it’s official - Lost You Forever is this year’s Love Between Fairy and Devil for me, and not just because I am unreasonably obsessed or because I love the design or because it features a protagonist horribly hurt by life and a love interest who gets to them by pure sunshine goodness.

No, it’s because they both are summer dramas that I mocked before they aired and whose cast gave me hives and then I had to eat crow dinner with crow coffee and crow dessert.

I thought the concept of LBFAD (demon king and fairy girl occasionally swap bodies) was risible. I thought anyone who cast Dylan Wang in anything, let alone as a terrifying demon lord, needed to have their head checked. I’ve seen that man in a number of dramas and he can’t act, thought I. Oh, and that trailer was simply awful. This is going to be a great terrible flop and I am gonna enjoy hate watching and mocking it, also thought I. I checked it out solely out of sheer morbid curiosity and I was a gone five minutes in. It ended up my favorite drama of 2022, made it into my top 10 cdramas of all time in fact, and if anyone said Dylan did anything but an amazing job in LBFAD, I’d fight them in the parking lot. Man tore my heart out.

Now comes 2023 and here is another anticipated summer drama, Lost You Forever. If you assume I learned anything from the LBFAD scenario, you would be wrong. (In my defense, in the overwhelming bulk of cases when I hate the concept, trailer and cast, I do not end up adoring the final product.) Nobody could explain the plot to me coherently (not their fault in retrospect, I can’t even explain it myself as it’s more character study than anything.) The concept screams reverse harem, something I am primed to enjoy about as much as I was primed to enjoy LBFAD body swap between female fairy and demon king or perhaps a toothache. The cast - yikes think I. The last Yang Zi drama and performance I enjoyed was the Battle of Changsha. A drama that is a bona fide masterpiece and in which she performed amazingly but was released in 2013, a whole decade ago. Ever since then she’s proceeded to play a range of cheery dimwits who only a mother could love, and only a mother in possession of earplugs and perhaps a gag at that. And to me she started sleepwalking through those roles to boot. Watching her and her dramas became the definition of elevator music. And her leading men here? Ooof! The guy who plays the cousin I’ve never seen in anything. Tan Jianci is good in the right role but I did not think that was going to be a good role and then we get Court Lady Tan Jianci which - shudder. And Deng Wei? Yikes! I’ve seen him in a bunch of dramas and he was the walking incarnation of color beige. And that trailer was a giant huh.

And now here we are. The story is exquisite and I feel so deeply for everyone in it (now, in case of cousin the feeling is the desire to barbecue him but still.) The acting is uniformly good and so is the story. And Yang Zi does not play a cheerful dimwit but a haunted old soul and she does it so well my heart breaks for her and I am so invested in her it becomes ridiculous as I feel her slightest joy or disappointment so intensely. And oh Deng Wei is my other revelation. If someone told me I’d be swooning over a character played by him I would have told them to sleep off all the booze they must have just consumed. But guuh, his 17 just might end up being my favorite male character in 2023 cdramas and I feel for him so deeply and remain amazed how he makes goodness layered and not boring or cloying at all.

That crow feast is sooo delicious!

Am I gonna learn? Hell no! Provided we are not all murdered by a giant asteroid, come back to this space in 2024 to see what other drama that I was prepared to hate I am now obsessing about.

[areyoudreaminof]

To Hell With a Reputation: A Mor Playlist

Not who you were expecting? Neither was I! Mor caught me by surprise the first time I read ACOMAF. This bright, fearless, and loyal lady was the first female friend Feyre had ever had, giving her the guidance that the males in her new fae life weren't quite able to give. "Don't Let The Hard Days Win" is probably a mantra for most of us now. Beneath that bubbly exterior, you have this complex individual who has survived terrible trauma and hides a lot of herself, to her own detriment. I think she deserves more in story. Like Cassian's playlist, I gave myself a lot more leeway with the music. Much more colorful sounds, but some darker lyrics. Listen Here! And meet me behind the cut!

PYNK-Janelle Monáe. Grimes)

Pynk like the paradise found Pynk when you're blushing inside, baby Pynk is the truth you can't hide, maybe Pynk like the folds of your brain, crazy Pynk as we all go insane

'Cause, boy, it's cool if you got blue We got the pynk

Raspberry Swirl-Tori Amos

I am not your señorita I am not from your tribe If you want inside her well Boy, you better make her raspberry swirl Things are getting desperate When all the boys can't be men Everybody knows I'm her friend Everybody knows I'm her man

Jesca Hoop-Free of the Feeling

When the ringing bell falls deaf, we go look for dark Where no flag is waving red, we look for dark Out where there's no whites of eyes, out where there's no stars Casting far and watching night, we go look for dark

To get free of the feeling Free of the feeling

Uninvited-Alanis Morissette

Like anyone would be I am flattered by your fascination with me Like any hot blooded woman I have simply wanted an object to crave But you, you're not allowed You're uninvited An unfortunate slight Must be strangely exciting To watch the stoic squirm

Same Ol' Mistakes-Rihanna

I can just hear them now "How could you let us down?" But they don't know what I found Or see it from this way around Feeling it overtake All that I used to hate Worried 'bout every trait I tried but it's way too late All the signs I don't read Two sides of me can't agree When I breathe in too deep Going with what I always longed for

Birch Tree-Foals

Come meet me by the river See how time it flows I'll meet you by the river See how time it flows And when we age Shed our skin and grow We shed our layers Spread our wings and go

Some things Cosmic-Angel Olsen

Before we draw, my dear dear friend I promise you my word If we should part, my dear dear love You know you’re in my heart And though I may be getting older Know that I'm going with you Know that I'm hanging on to the things that you said The things that you said

Laura Palmer-Bastille

Walking out into the dark, cutting out a different path Lead by a beating heart All the people of the town cast their eyes right to the ground In matters of the heart The night was all you had You ran into the night from all you had Found yourself a path up on the ground You ran into the night; you can't be found But this is your heart Can you feel it? Can you feel it?

Ocean Drive-Duke Dumont

As the sirens fill the lonely air Oh, how did we get here now, now, now, babe We see a storm is closing in Pretending we ain't scared

Don't say a word while we dance with the devil You brought a fire to a world so cold We're out of time on the highway to never Hold on (Hold on), hold on (Hold on)

Silent Machine-Cat Power

I walk on through woods and its streets every night Walk through people who walk too close Into each other they're hanging I am told there's a mother you may remember

In the name of the father but never the ghost Me I use the money for those just as hard Who hung his head for the ladies or pretended he did

The Lion's Roar-First Aid Kit

But don't you come here and say I didn't warn you About the way your world can alter And oh how you try to command it all still Every single time it all shifts one way or the other And I'm a goddamn coward, but then again so are you And the lion's roar, the lion's roar Has me evading and hollering for you And I never really knew what to do

Leave a Trace-CHVRCHES

I will show restraint Just like we said we should You think I'll apologise for things I left behind But you got it wrong And I'm as sane as I ever was You talk far too much For someone so unkind I will wipe the salt off of my skin And I'll admit that I got it wrong And there is grey between the lines

Birth in Reverse-St. Vincent

Like a birth in reverse What I saw through the blinds You could say that I'm saying Phenomenal lies On the cosmic eternity Party line

This tune will haunt me through the war Ha, ha, ha, ha ha Laugh all you want but I want more 'Cause what I'm swearing, I've never sworn before

Woman King-Iron & Wine

Blackbird claw, raven wing Under the red sunlight Long clothesline, two shirtsleeves Waving as we go by

Hundred years, hundred more Someday we may see a Woman king, wristwatch time Slowing as she goes to sleep

Rainbow-Kacey Musgraves

When it rains, it pours But you didn't even notice It ain't rainin' anymore It's hard to breathe when all you know is The struggle of stayin' above the risin' water line Well, the sky has finally opened The rain and wind stopped blowin' But you're stuck out in the same ol' storm again You hold tight to your umbrella Well, darlin', I'm just tryin' to tell ya That there's always been a rainbow Hangin' over your head

taglist: @highqueenmorrigan, @foreverinelysian, @octobers-veryown, @melting-houses-of-gold, @velidewrites, @reverie-tales, @thesistersarcheron@ultadverb, @c-e-d-dreamer, @andrigyn, @foundress0fnothing, @vulpes-fennec ,@asnowfern, @mossytrashcan , @thelovelymadone, @the-lonelybarricade, @shadowriel, @separatist-apologist , @fieldofdaisiies, @stickyelectrons, @vanserrass, @panicatthenightcourt, @krem-does-stuff, @iftheshoef1tz, @damedechance, @headcanonheadcase, @cursebrkr, @andrigyn, @mossytrashcan, @thelovelymadone, @wilde-knight, @moonpatroclus, @stickyelectrons, @kataravimes-of-the-shire, @mossytrashcan, @sunshinebingo, @filthyglamdoll, @ablogofbipanic, @corcracrow, @morweekofficial

[lovecolibri]

As someone who ships Buddie like forever but has also observed mostly for 5 years, in regards to FF and even on here, here's what I noticed.

When it came to Anna no one could initially get over her abilism in regards to Christopher and you know what fair because that was hard for me too. I honestly don't think Eddie would have gotten over it either even if she was "so pretty". So initial bias is hard to overcome and I think it translated into FF even to this day. TBH the show and Ryan's acting choices also didn't help endear her or make her more then one dimensional. I mean he'll they had Carla call out Eddie's heart to him before he was even shot. So for me what little was she observing to be like dude your not into her. But also she knows a certain someone very well and sees that certain someone with Eddie all the time you know.

When it comes to Taylor I think initial bias still comes in. I think most people observed her as the petty bitchy best gal pal every gay guy needs. But then they had to put them in a relationship and really ruin her because yes she was toxic to Buck. Of course he wasn't innocent, he self destructed after his boyfriend dumped him, kissed a coworker, invited her to move in. Yes not a good look!! However she was more calculated you know.

Anyways let's just hope everyone treats these actresses nice please!!

I was talking more about seeing posts and stuff here and Twitter, because those comments are still floating around.

Nut yes in regards to fic, Ana in particular was SUCH a blank slate and the little we DID see was her ableism and that breakup with her touching Eddie who is very much in a "this is crossing boundaries, don't touch me" stance so it's easy for fic writers to dial up the drama and make a big, fun, telenovela storyline with her being off the rails, or a more grounded story with her faults dialed up just a bit for the *drama*.

For Tay Kay though it never made sense to me because we DID see exactly who she is on multiple occasions and none of that ever made sense as something Buck would want to pursue after 2x06 (even 2x08 with him complaining to BOBBY of all people?! about how interesting she was has ALWAYS rubbed me the wrong way but I think it's because they didn't quite anticipate how strongly the audience would react to her actions against Bobby so they put in the ending in 2x08 with Ali instead). "petty bitchy best gal pal every gay guy needs" but DOES anyone need that? I've SEEN petty, bitchy best gal pals! Look at Rosa from B99! She was not afraid to call Jake out, but she was never genuinely MEAN about it or specifically tried to hurt him when she called him out as a way to prop herself up. I will NEVER understand fics acting like that woman has ever given a flying fuck about a single person other than herself in order to make her Buck's bestie when the show HAS all these amazing, strong female AND male characters that Buck ALREADY knows, and ALREADY seeks advice from, and who aren't afraid to call him out, but gently and with love and in a way that respects that he struggles with RSD and how that affects how he perceives what people are saying. It's not always done perfectly by his friends and family but it IS always done with love.

As for any of the cast in ANY capacity, there is no need to be rude to any of them, ever? I do NOT like MW, or GW, or AK for personal reasons. And as such, I wipe their existence from my mind, and don't look at what they are doing or saying because I simply do not care. DO NOT bring your drama about a show's choices to the people being paid to act out what they are told to. (You absolutely can and should call out things like, oh IDK, constantly going out for Latina characters while not being Latina, or making/liking homophobic comments etc but those are their personal choices not about the things their characters are doing)

[dankusner]

JFKjr + George + Coulter

Much has been written and said about John F. Kennedy, Jr., though not all of it by people who actually knew him.

In this new oral biography from RoseMarie Terenzio and Liz McNeil, JFK Jr.'s closest friends open up about who he was outside of the spotlight and what made him such a compelling figure that we're still besotted even 25 years after his untimely death.

The first oral biography of John F. Kennedy Jr. is an extraordinarily intimate, comprehensive look at the real man behind the myth.

Sharing never-before-told stories and insights, his closest friends, confidantes, lovers, classmates, teachers, and colleagues paint a vivid portrait of one of the most beloved figures of the 20th century, revealing how the boy who saluted became the man America came to know and love who still captures public imagination twenty-five years after his tragic death.

Born into the spotlight, John F. Kennedy Jr. lived a short but remarkable life filled with expectation, ambition, family pressures, love, and tragedy.

JFK Jr. dives deep into his complicated psyche and explores the what-ifs, illuminating both the cultural and political moment he inhabited and the way this son of a president, so full of promise and possibility, embodied America’s most cherished hopes.

ANN COULTER, CONTRIBUTOR  He loved bringing both sides of the aisle together. That was kind of the hallmark of George. Can you imagine what a different world it would be if anyone still cared about that? I have a surprising number of liberal friends, many of whom I met through George — all of whom have to deny me to their friends and still I am friends with them. At a lunch event early on, I had just been fired for the 18th time from MSNBC.

John thought it was the coolest thing ever.

“This is something you should put on your résumé. You’re like Howard Stern!”

He wanted to know everything I’d been fired for.

Loved it all.

I thought, “Yeah, this is the magazine for me.”

KELLYANNE CONWAY, POLLSTER FOR GEORGE 

He was fascinated with polling, because polling was the touchstone to what people think.

I remember telling John Kennedy that “I don’t know” is a great answer that often gets ignored.

He really enjoyed that part, “Let’s not push people.”

We did one poll asking, “Would you rather be president of the country or president of your own company?”

It wasn’t even close, they wanted to be president of their own company, because they don’t actually like politics, and it’d be less stressful and more lucrative.

That fascinated him and definitely informed his editorial choices.

CONWAY 

Two months before his death, there was a BMW event.

Laura Ingraham was there, too.

It was another example of bringing people together because it was the right versus the left, but we were in race cars and it was just fun.

He had his foot in a cast, so he couldn’t participate.

But he had fun.

He was always lovely, shy in a way, just trying to blend in and make everyone feel comfortable.

COULTER 

I think things in politics would be different if his plane hadn’t gone down. The polarization and hatred would have to be less because he set a standard. I mean, who knows? Trump still could have come along and wrecked everything, but even through Trump, life would have been better in politics, more interesting and more fun. Maybe there would be a President John.

JFK Jr.’s Final Days: Exclusive Excerpt from Revealing New Book JFK Jr.: An Intimate Oral Biography

Close friends share never-before-told stories about the life and tragic death of John F. Kennedy's only son, who died at age 38

JFK jr, john f kennedy jr cover

JFK Jr. in New York City in 1996 and the JFK Jr. PEOPLE cover .

Close friends share never-before-told stories about the life and tragic death of John F. Kennedy's only son, who died at age 38

On Nov. 25, 1963, three-year-old John F. Kennedy Jr. saluted his assassinated father’s casket in a televised funeral procession.

That heartbreaking image came to symbolize the nation's loss.

The world never stopped watching as the little boy grew into a movie-star-handsome magazine editor, married Carolyn Bessette and then died at age 38 on July 16, 1999, when the plane he was piloting crashed off Martha’s Vineyard, also killing Carolyn, 33, and her sister Lauren, 34.

For more on JFK Jr., pick up the latest issue of PEOPLE, on newsstands Friday, or subscribe here.

Now, 25 years after JFK Jr.’s death, many of his closest friends have opened up about the man behind the myth in JFK Jr: An Intimate Oral Biography by RoseMarie Terenzio and People editor-at-large Liz McNeil, excerpted exclusively — in print and audio — below.

Before her husband’s funeral, Mrs. Kennedy asked military personnel to teach John how to salute his casket.

Philip M. Hannan, auxiliary bishop of the Archdiocese of Washington

"I saw John Jr. salute [that day]. I was standing by him. I thought, This is the picture that will live.

I saw the reaction of the people across the street. It was an instantaneous reaction; they broke down, especially the women … I had heard Mrs. Kennedy say, 'John, salute.' I knew then that this was probably the most poignant picture of the century."

John grew up in New York City, where his mom moved with him and Caroline in 1964. She enrolled him at the private Collegiate School.

David Clarke, schoolmate

"He had this big mop of hair. You’d see him wandering around the halls, shirttails hanging out, his tie ripped off to one side, his hair a mess. He was known for losing blazers."

He transferred to elite Andover in 1976 and had to repeat his senior year when he failed math before starting at Brown University in 1979. He was easily distractable but his name and charm brought advantages — and fun.

William Cohan, schoolmate

"One weekend, he invites me down to [the family’s apartment at] 1040 Fifth Avenue. I walk in and it’s mind-boggling. And his mother’s there. And then John goes into his room and decides he wants to get high, takes out the bong, smokes a bowl, pours the bong water out onto Fifth Avenue from his bathroom."

Gary Ginsberg, college friend

"I met John in the second-to-last row of a history class. One day … neither of us had any clue what was really going on. John had to give an answer, and it was so inane. But after he finished his two-minute response, the professor’s nodding vigorously. 'John, that was so insightful.' That’s when I realized it was what John always referred to as 'the JK Factor.'

"There’s no table in a restaurant? Then one appears. He’d always look at me with that sh---eating grin and go, 'JK Factor.' "

John F. Kennedy Jr. photographed at George Magazine Headquarters in New York City in 1996

John F. Kennedy Jr. photographed at 'George Magazine' Headquarters in New York City in 1996.

Anne Marie Fox

He got his law degree from NYU in 1989 and passed the bar exam on his third try. He dated actress Daryl Hannah off and on but met and fell for Calvin Klein publicist Carolyn Bessette in 1992 before formally ending things with Hannah.

Robbie Littell, best friend

"[Carolyn] intrigued him more than anyone he’d ever met. A force of nature. He said he wanted to marry her. He was adamant."

They wed on Sept 21, 1996 on Cumberland Island, off the coast of Georgia.

George Kyriakos, wedding guest and Carolyn’s hairdresser

"John slept in my then-wife Jackie’s and my room the night before the wedding. Which is crazy — there was this huge mansion where everybody had rooms, and John was sleeping on a cot in our room. It was the whole don’t-sleep-with-the-bride-the-night-before-the-wedding thing."

Gogo Ferguson, who hosted their wedding

"We lit the church with all the candles and flashlights we had because by the time we got her in her dress and I drove her down the road in my truck, it was getting dark. There was no electricity. John and Carolyn stayed at our house that night. Someone had the great idea of putting rose petals all the way up our driveway and into our bedroom, which ended up a complete mess. That was gonna be the honeymoon suite."

The press attention intensified — and while John was used to it, Carolyn was overwhelmed.

John F. Kennedy, Jr. and his wife Carolyn Bessette Kennedy arrive at the annual John F. Kennedy Library Foundation dinner and Profiles in Courage awards in honor of the former President's 82nd Birthday, Sunday, May 23, 1999 at the Kennedy Library in Boston, MA. John F. Kennedy, Jr. and his wife Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy at the annual Profiles in Courage awards on May 23, 1999 at the Kennedy Library in Boston, Mass. Justin Ide Sasha Chermayeff, college friend

"She genuinely felt she was in danger. The paranoia set in when she kind of let her mind spin off: 'What if somebody wants to kidnap me?' After they got married, it just escalated and escalated and escalated. John was five years older. And being followed, it’s very different for a 200-lb. man than for a woman alone. By then she was thinking, 'They’re spying on me. They’re stalking me. Now my life is being afraid.' "

John got his pilot’s license in 1998 and found an escape in the skies.

Robbie Littell

"That was some of the happiest times he ever had. Floating around with the buzzards in his Buckeye [plane]. It was the freedom. But most of all, it was getting away. Flying made him super happy. Free spirit, in control, doing something, you know … a James Bondian endeavor. Playing James Bond."

Gary Ginsberg

"He said, 'It’s the only place I can go where no one is bothering me. I have complete silence, and no one can get to me except the air traffic controllers.' Maybe that gives you insight into what he was really dealing with on the ground."

RoseMarie Terenzio, friend and assistant

"When he got his plane, the Cessna, you have to have a tail number, and he wanted 529 because that was his dad’s birthday — May 29. When he went to reserve that number to register it with the FAA, that one was taken. He ended up buying the number from the person who had it. The tail number on both of John’s planes was N529JK."

John was trying to keep George magazine afloat, fighting with Carolyn and worried about the looming death from cancer of his cousin Anthony Radziwill. In May 1999, he broke his ankle paragliding. John and Carolyn’s relationship hit a low point the week of July 12. Though accounts vary, John spent at least one night at the Stanhope Hotel.

Sasha Chermayeff

"They were spiting each other. Maybe Carolyn was trying to make him worry [by not coming home]. So then he did it the next night. He was not with her those last two nights. The Stanhope thing was tricky. I think he went there to meet [former girlfriend] Julie Baker. Everybody always asks me, 'What do I think would’ve happened?' Anything was possible."

Julie Baker

"I spoke to John for the last time the night before he passed. There is a rumor going around that I was with him at the Stanhope [that night]. This is not true. He was at a baseball game and wanted me to meet up with him and his friend after to grab a drink. I was away, so I couldn’t. I did however grab a quick lunch with him (which we often did) at the Stanhope a few days before the accident."

On July 16, he spent the day at the office. The plan was to fly to Martha’s Vineyard to drop off Carolyn’s sister Lauren, 34, and then fly to Hyannis, Mass., for his cousin Rory Kennedy’s wedding. But they ended up leaving later than planned.

RoseMarie Terenzio

"I got to John and Carolyn’s apartment, where I was staying until my air conditioning got fixed, at 9:30 or 10:00. They had two phones — one in the kitchen, and then a fax machine. Only three or four people had that number. I picked up the fax phone and it was Carole [Radziwill, Anthony’s wife]. She said, 'Oh thank God you’re there.' I said, 'Carole? It’s Rose.' She said, 'Where are they? They didn’t land in the Vineyard.' No one knew where John was. [RoseMarie spoke to John’s flight instructor Bob Marena.] He said the flight took off at 8:39. That’s when I panicked.

"Then Ann Freeman, Carolyn and Lauren’s mom, called . . . She was panic-stricken. She said something like, 'I told him never to take two of my girls up at the same time.' She was angry. Crying. It was panic, shock. Disbelief."

The National Transportation Safety Board determined the cause of the accident as the “pilot’s failure to maintain control of the airplane, which was a result of spatial disorientation. Factors in the accident were haze and the dark night."

Jeff Guzzetti, NTSB investigator, Office of Aviation Safety

"His flight path into the water is consistent with what is known as a graveyard spiral. The airplane makes a spiral nose-down . . . kind of like going down a drain. The plane went into one final turn and it stayed in that turn pretty much all the way down to the ocean. He went in seven miles from Martha’s Vineyard.

"I don’t think the passengers knew what was happening to them. They might’ve felt a little G-force pushing them down in their seats, like, 'This feels a little bit weird.' You would’ve heard the rush of air over the fuselage accelerate or get louder, during the final fatal plunge. Perhaps feel yourself accelerating a little bit. And then they hit the surface of the water and it’s over. Now, the pilot is different. I would expect that the pilot would be very confused and perhaps a little frightened because the instruments may have not been matching up with how he was feeling. The impact forces were tremendous."

RoseMarie Terenzio

"A week later, I got a big brown box from the mail room. I think it was from the NTSB. There was his wallet. It was all water-damaged and warped. And one crutch. I sent it to [John’s sister] Caroline [Kennedy]. I just cried."

On July 22, the USS Briscoe brought members of the Kennedy and Bessette families to scatter the ashes for a burial at sea.

Barry C. Black, Navy chaplain

"Caroline clutched the urn . . . I calmed her, and we went down. Contorted with grief is not even an adequate description. She put the ashes in. As the ashes were pouring, she reached her hand into the water to put some water back on her [as if she thought], 'I’m not going to let go of his hand.' They dropped flowers as the ship was sailing. They embraced one another as if that human closeness would somehow mitigate the ache.

Robbie Littell

"I’ve heard they cut a tree down in Irish culture when someone dies young because they only lived half of their life. And I like to say, here’s a guy who lived twice as hard as anyone else. Twice as well as anyone else . . . I think of the loss, not so much my loss, but his loss — of not being able to experience life which he loved so much. The loss was going to come when the stories faded — and I didn’t want to lose the stories."

BOOKS Through the eyes of those who knew him best

Into the ruthless world of Kennedy family biographies enters JFK Jr.: An Intimate Oral Biography , co-written by RoseMarie Terenzio — John Kennedy Jr.’s executive assistant and a close confidante of his wife, Carolyn Bessette-Kennedy — and People magazine editor-at-large Liz McNeil.

JFK Jr. is timed to the 25th anniversary of the still-unthinkable deaths of the couple, and Bessette’s sister Lauren, in the crash of a plane piloted by Kennedy on a foggy night off the coast of Martha’s Vineyard on July 16, 1999.

The oral history offers extensive reminiscences from a friendly chorus of prep school classmates, colleagues, close friends, housemates, historians, multiple girlfriends and one National Park Service ranger who declined Kennedy’s request to rappel off the top of Mt. Rushmore to promote a book associated with his magazine, George.

Pamela Anderson shows up to remember Kennedy fondly, as do Garth Brooks, Brooke Shields, Jeffrey Sachs and Sinn Fein leader Gerry Adams.

Sprawling and fascinating, JFK Jr. was clearly written by and populated with people who love him.

Terenzio’s closeness to the couple was virtually unrivaled.

She was staying at their Tribeca apartment the weekend of their deaths;

she was the one everybody called in a panic, the one who called Ted Kennedy’s house to tell him his nephew’s plane was missing, the one who boxed up the couple’s effects.

The extent of her access to Kennedy’s inner circle, and the frankness of their recollections, are remarkable.

In the first years after Kennedy’s death, few of his famously protective friends spoke to the press, and then it seemed as if they all did, all at once, producing a firehose of memoirs and documentaries.

Terenzio herself has previously done both.

The book benefits from its distance from that gold rush, since Kennedy’s friends no longer need to jealously guard their recollections.

It suffers as well, since so few mysteries remain.

While JFK Jr. almost certainly provides the fullest portrait of Kennedy ever written, stacked with gratifyingly gossipy details, it offers few actual scoops.

Wisely, it doesn’t linger on the well-tilled Camelot years, or on Jack and Jackie Kennedy’s famously fraught relationship.

“I’m not so sure he didn’t love her at the end,” says one of Jackie’s confidants, with a notable lack of enthusiasm.

The image of John-John (a name he came to hate) saluting his father’s casket came to symbolize the nation’s grief.

It was his third birthday, and he had practiced the salute with his Secret Service detail.

After that, John F. Kennedy, Jr. belonged to everybody.

Jackie, portrayed here as doting but strict, eventually moved her children to Manhattan, hoping to give them regular lives.

Classmates remember Kennedy as a mostly normal kid, albeit one who took his friends dancing at Studio 54 and refused to discuss the Warren Commission.

“He had a bit of sadness to him,” recalls one of Kennedy’s teachers.

“He was a more complicated person than people think.”

Friends describe him as scattered — always late, always losing things, including cars and bicycles — and an indifferent student whose admission to Brown surprised everyone.

He would later fail the bar exam twice.

“We never thought he’d be very smart,” admits Secret Service agent Clint Hill.

When Kennedy was 27, People magazine named him the Sexiest Man Alive, something that seemed to both embarrass and secretly thrill him.

“He knew he was beautiful,” recalls a gossip columnist who knew him.

“He spent hours and hours at the gym. I never saw him take a shower with the curtain closed.”

Kennedy developed an alarming taste for adventure that resulted in several near-death experiences;

he once wandered off-trail and got lost in the African jungle.

He had been fascinated with flying since his days riding with his father in the presidential helicopter.

In the air, he was free from the earthbound pressures that came with being a Kennedy, his friend William Cohan says.

“He did do a lot of crazy things, but I don’t think he had a death wish. I think he thought he was invincible, which is pretty crazy given his father and uncle were assassinated.”

Under Terenzio and McNeil’s skillful navigation, a portrait of Kennedy emerges:

He was a loyal friend, unpretentious and effortlessly likable, skilled at putting normies at ease with his ridiculous fame.

He was always the biggest celebrity in any room, and never knew anything else.

Regular New Yorkers would stop him on the street to tell him what his father meant to them (he usually loved this).

Women, even supermodels, would swoon, sometimes literally.

But when he met and married Calvin Klein executive Carolyn Bessette, the spotlight became unbearable, at least for her.

Kennedy’s friends speak of Bessette with what seems like a mixture of fondness, trepidation and resentment.

They recall her electric personality, her alternating tendencies toward hostility and warmth, her maternal instincts.

The more they describe her, the more unknowable she seems.

(Despite rumors to the contrary, Terenzio says she never saw Bessette-Kennedy use drugs, though her husband was a daily pot smoker.)

She was hunted by paparazzi who would hurl insults to get a reaction, once sending her fleeing into traffic.

Toward the end, she became reluctant to leave their apartment.

She seemed to be unraveling.

Kennedy, who shared his family���s famous determination to get on with things, was mostly unsympathetic.

It didn’t help that the photographers who tormented Bessette-Kennedy would pretend to be kind to her when he was around.

“He could have done more to help her,” one friend observes. “He was brilliant in the deep end, so he thought Carolyn could do the same.” If there’s one surprising thing JFK Jr. reveals, it’s how much the tabloids were right: about the tension between the couple in their last days, their likely extramarital dalliances, and the fact that Carolyn, unenthused at the prospect of putting on a brave face at Rory Kennedy’s wedding that terrible weekend, almost didn’t go.

On the day of the crash, Kennedy, according to one friend, was “fighting to turn around his life.”

His marriage was crumbling, his best friend and cousin Anthony Radziwill was dying, and he was estranged from his beloved sister, Caroline.

Neither sibling liked the other’s spouse, and Caroline, who did not speak for the book, is portrayed as frosty and distant throughout.

According to those who knew him, Kennedy was beginning to cautiously embrace his political destiny.

The night before the crash, he told a friend he wanted to challenge New York Gov. George Pataki, the first stop on a likely inexorable road to the White House.

It had always been both obvious and necessary that he would pick up the mantle of the Kennedy family — he was their last charismatic member.

At the time of his death, he was still struggling to figure out his own way there.

“He wanted to be his own person,” recalls boxer Mike Tyson, a friend of Kennedy’s. “But how do you become your own person … when you almost belong to everybody?”

[dorireads]

The Charm Offensive by Alison Cochrun || Book Review

Star Review: 3.5/5⭐

Tropes: Dating Show ????

This was another read I got from booktok! I wish I would learn my lesson, for real. This book was, like, some people's #1 read ever, and very very highly praised, so I set my expectations high and began to read it.

Honestly, it didn't meet my expectations. Not from a this-is-literally-a-piece-of-shit standpoint, but from the way that the story was told and the way the plot developed. If you like a very easy and very blunt read with characters that have blatant nuance rather than subtle and developing nuance, this book is for you. It's not a bad book by any means, it just felt kind of amateur in the way it was written. Which isn't a criminal offense.

To put positives first, this book is an amazing gay romance with a diverse cast of characters, commentary on misogyny and biphobia, a very fun setting of a dating show (this was probably my favorite part of the book! it was so fun to see these characters having to work on a set as someone with no experience in doing that!), and a generally sweet love story.

This book also includes self discovery and talks about finding their genuine passions, meeting other's expectations, and finding parts of themselves that they didn't know existed or had repressed. There is representation of anxiety, OCD, panic attacks, and destigmatizing therapy.

Honestly a very sweet and lovely book, definitely recommend for an easy read romance! I'll talk about parts I disliked under the cut, spoiler warning!

When I talk about reading being a very solitary and personal experience, this is what I mean. This book has been super widely liked, but it just didn't hit all the marks for me.

When we talk about the diversity of this book, it kind of fell flat in the way that everything was written so blatantly instead of developing over the span of the story.

This started when Skylar was introduced, the paragraph describing her reads: "As a queer black woman, Skylar Jones did not become the lead director of a reality television juggernaut by having chill. When she developed early female pattern baldness before forty from the stress of this job, she simply began shaving all her hair off."

I genuinely love and understand the sentiment of wanting to have representation in your writing, but I do feel like these points could have been expressed in better ways rather than just one paragraph in the beginning of the story telling you everything about this character. Because of this, it feels like it was added specifically and only for diversity, which isn't the coolest.

Another point in the book is Charlie having anxiety and OCD. I don't have OCD nor have I researched it very thoroughly, so I can't comment on the way it's been shown here, but I do have anxiety so I feel like I can talk about it.

It felt like Charlie's anxiety was kind of just an excuse in the beginning to push him away from interacting with the show. He signed a contract and consented to the show, but when he got there he consistently walks off set and refuses to participate in the beginning. Later in the book, he is able to participate and talk to the girls almost completely okay, but this is only after he realizes his feelings for Dev. This bothers me because his anxiety isn't dealt with or expanded upon much later in the book, and is only really used as a plot point in order for him not to have to get close with anyone on the show.

Also, Maureen's entire character was an L. I have nothing more to say about her. Cochrun succeeded at making a genuinely unlikeable antagonist, and she didn't even have that major of a role.

The last point that I specifically didn't like very much was the ending. The time skip fell flat because we didn't see anything that happened in between, we just jumped to when Dev's issues had already been mostly solved and when Charlie had already figured out what to do. I wish it had been talked about more so that we felt as though we were looking at a character that had developed and shown development, rather than just being told that he worked on himself and is over it now.

That's all from me!

[unfriedough]

something with zuko seeing reader with kids and how they treat them and being super soft please !

luv you bestay

‘Spy’- Zuko x female!reader

Masterlist <3

An: Hiiii! GLAD TO SEE U! THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST MY LOVE, ENJOY!

Summary:

Zuko comes to find you, only to find out a lot more about you.

Warnings: it’s literally just fluff dude 🫡

Zuko never considered himself the dad type, don’t get me wrong though, he loves kids. Just the innocence of being a young child, your only worry is what you're having for supper, every day free and new. That was a life anyone would want. It’s unfortunate he won’t get to reminisce on these times with a smile, he often found himself living vicariously through stories he’s heard, pondering what his life could’ve been, rather than what it was. The truth is, Zuko was scared he wouldn’t be able to give a child the attention and love and care they absolutely deserved, especially now as the newly appointed firelord.

Well not entirely ‘newly’. It’s been a couple years since he’s taken reign and responsibility over the nation, things were settling down, and he was getting more and more free time to spend with you. However, today was not one of the relaxing days he’d had before. Zuko’s schedule was practically full to the brim, barely finding time for bathroom breaks. He was scrambling from meeting to meeting, eyes becoming more droopy as he heard the fifth sour man ramble to him about the most miniscule problem and how he has to have it at the top of his agenda. He didn’t really care though. He had a country to run, trivial matters like renewing guard uniforms or getting a portrait didn’t really matter.

But these silly things mattered to you. You pestered him to get a portrait, you convinced him to redecorate the palace, you even helped redesign the new uniforms, they were a lot more appealing and practical now. The council was always so thankful for you, not to mention how much the crowds loved you. You were a perfect fit. You and Zuko were like the last pieces of a puzzle, satisfying to see together, a perfect match.

.

Usually, you would sit in the gardens daily, your hands with the ducks who swam mindlessly, carefree as ever, all whilst Zuko was away doing his job. But today, you were nowhere to be found. The staff told zuko you didn’t want to be followed by them when he asked about your whereabouts, so he went to find you alone. Zuko thought about the place you always resorted to: the town. He smiled as he walked down the path, a shortcut you’d shown him the first week in the fire nation palace. His footsteps echoed on the hot stone path, shoes tapping happily. It was an excuse to get away from the buzz of it all, the overwhelming feeling of the crushing weight of being the firelord on his sagging shoulders, he was bound to get gray hair anytime soon with this amount of pressure. He sighed, shaking his head as he finally reached the town square, a gentle smile tugging at his features when he saw the playing children, running around, clashing into each other and laughing it off. It was very cute. Then, amongst all the children, he saw you. But not just you, you and a toddler. The young laid in your lap comfortably, babbling while you listened intently. The tree you sat at the trunk of casted a harsh shadow, contrasting the gentle sunlight illuminating the nation.

Another child ran up to you, short legs fighting hard to stay up as they crossed the grass of the short hill you resided on. The little girl buzzed at your feet while waiting for you to start your tale telling. All the kids swarmed you due to your impeccable stories and captivating voice. By now there were a good five children along with a toddler with you, respective parents trusting you with their offsprings.

It was a good thing zuko slipped out of his formal robes before coming, a man much older nudging him from his hiding spot.

“Which one’s yours?”

Zuko furrowed his brows, and the man reiterated, “like, kids? Which one’s yours?”

“Oh no. I uh, don’t have a kid.”

The man displayed a shocked expression, and zuko realized how creepy he must’ve looked.

He quickly started waving his arms around frantically, “NO it’s not like that! It’s just, my wife’s here, I just wanted to see her,” he laughed awkwardly, visibly embarrassed.

“Ohh!” The man chuckled loudly, bringing the attention of lots of parents. He was undoubtedly embarrassed.

“That’s your wife?” Zuko turned back to the man, and nodded.

“You’re a lucky fella, she’s a real gem!” The wife of the man added, as if appearing out of nowhere, wrapping herself around her husband, who leaned in for a kiss.

The three turned to watch you again, and Zuko really took his time drinking in the scene.

The orange hues of the sky drowned you as the sun retreated, the grass colours becoming fainter by the second. Your body was littered with smaller ones. A child under each arm, the toddler on your lap, another two by each thigh, and one hanging by the tree you were sitting under. It was truly such a calming sight.

But really, the magic of it all, was just you. The light bouncing off of your features in the most enchanted way, your soft smile paired with it made you look absolutely divine. Zuko thought there was no way you could even be real, how could someone do something so mundane and look absolutely ethereal - and it be completely unbeknownst to them just how stunning they are. He was entranced.

“You don’t have any kids, right?” The man hummed, and Zuko nodded.

“I’m too busy at work, don’t have the time for it,” a sad expression was his.

“What do you do?”

“I'll tell you, but you can’t treat me any differently than now,” He swallowed thickly as they nodded, but alas, what’s the point of lying? “I’m the firelord,” he smiled a little at their shocked reactions.

“Oh.” The woman said, shocked.

Just a beat later, they both burst into laughter, “I knew I knew him from somewhere!”

“I just couldn’t imagine him being the firelord,” the woman shrugged, still smiling.

“Why not?”

“You're just so young and sweet. I mean, we caught you staring at your wife not even 5 minutes ago.”

He flushed, right, he was doing that earlier.

“Don’t be embarrassed!” The lady nudged his shoulder, “She's very pretty, I’d be staring too!”

He skipped a beat, looking at you again. He really didn't want to disturb you, but he would do anything to be with you just about now. To be held in your arms as you soothed his doubts and worries, a brush of your hand against his softening rough edges. He contemplated just walking up to you.

“So, she's the fire lady huh?”

“Well, duh!” His wife responded, to which the man chuckled.

“Just can’t believe it.”

Zuko swallowed harshly, still rather flustered from earlier.

By now, the sun began to fall, an red-ish hue upon the land, which is yet to be blanketed with the dark of the night. People began to leave, packing their belongings, retrieving their families. You yawned, stretching your arms as most parents picked up their children, only two remaining with you.

A little boy and his sister, twins, both four 7 years old.

“Hey Y/n,”

“Yes sweetie?” You replied to the boy.

“I don't mean to scare you, but there’s a man watching you. He’s been there since the morning.”

Your heart sank, eyes wide, but in a cool-calm voice, you replied, “Can you tell me where?”

He pointed directly at three figures, one of which immediately took cover.

You narrowed your eyes, the distance making it difficult to gauge out their identities.

“That’s mommy and daddy, idiot.” The girl replied, rolling her eyes.

“No, there was one more guy! I promise!”

“Well, I guess we'll find out soon enough,” you smiled, standing up and dusting your clothes off.

The kids followed in pursuit, carefully walking down the hill to make sure they won’t fall over the unstable sloped ground. Once at the bottom, the happily ran to their parents, you right behind them.

“Mommy!”

“Daddy!”

The kids were carried by their parents, held tightly in the embrace. Zuko held his breath - this was a very compromising position for him. You neared the couple joyfully, before slowly peeking behind the wall. There, you found your husband, looking as embarrassed as ever.

“Zuko?”

“Hey, Y/n,” he dragged out, walking slightly closer to you.

“I thought you had a meeting now?”

“Yeah well, I thought they could wait.” Zuko rubbed his neck sheepishly, knowing he’s gonna get an earful later.

You pinched his side, and he immediately squirmed, gasping.

“Hey!”

“You deserve it,” you giggled, before pecking him on the cheek.

“Eww!” The little girl stuck a finger into her mouth, fake gagging.

“Shut up! I think it's cute!” The little boy replied, staring with hearts in his eyes.

“Thank you, Zhao,” the little boy grinned, your approval warming his heart.

By now, the dark of the sky loomed upon you, the group deciding its best to head home. As you walked off, you heard a tiny voice,

“Y/n,” Zhao called to you just before parting, “I need to tell you a secret!”

His small hand guided you away from the group, and he pulled you down to whisper in your ears, “i think he was the man staring at you,” he pointed to Zuko.

You giggled, “Good to know,”

He smiled, before running back to his parents, and waving goodbye.

“Bye!”

“Bye!”

You bowed to the couple in respect, Zuko doing the same, and then you walked off, hand in hand. As you walked back in the comfort of the starry night, your feet moving in synch with his, you remembered what Zhao had said.

“So, spying on me huh?”

“Shut up.”

An: did this take forever? Yes. Do I love this? YES.

[momolady]

The Shadow, the Orc, and the Princess: Part two

The story of Princess Leopoldine continues. As she grows she realizes what she wants when she is to take the kingdom. but there is a possibility her promise of taking the throne could be halted.

Female Main Character x Male Monster (both cis)

Part One

----------------------------------------------

The first few months of Bronn’s life were hard. Due to his small size and the extremely cold weather he was often sick. We were all worried for him, losing sleep and appetite during the darkest of moments.

“He’s one of us,” my father would say. “He’s strong, he can do this.”

I kept looking at Bronn, worrying about how tiny he was and how hard he had to work to breathe. I didn’t say a word, because anything I might say could turn into a curse upon my tongue.

“The dawn can’t seem bright without the night,” my father said reassuringly. “Your mother told me that once.”

I looked away from Bronn’s crib and into my father’s eyes. He was exhausted beyond all reason, but he was still smiling.

Tears welled up into my eyes. “I feel like dawn isn’t coming.”

“Come here.” He beckoned me over and held me close. “It will come. One way or another, it will come.”

A year to the day after I was told Bronn was coming, he laughed for the first time. I was holding him and sneezed very loudly. I was terrified I had startled him, instead he began laughing.

Bronn began to come out of night and rise into the dawn. He began to grow and gain weight, and he obtained a vicious little appetite. By the time summer was at an end he was walking and following us wherever he could.

“Look at these strong legs!” My father announced to anyone who would listen. “He was built to be a warrior!”

“Maybe a dancer,” my mother would interject.

“Leo had legs like these when she was little. Did she not?” My father set Bronn on the ground and grinned into his face. “You’re going to conquer worlds, aren’t you my little raven? You’re going to cast shadows over everything you see.”

I was a bit uneasy about my father’s words, so I just told myself it was baby talk. “He will do as he pleases,” I corrected. “Remember? You said that to me when you announced he was coming.”

“I stand by that!” He huffed. “But look at him! He will be a beauty to his lovers, and a monster to his enemies.”

My mother rolled her eyes at me and I smiled. She then looked at a letter and she scowled deeply. Ever since Bronn was born, letters from Arda the First had been coming in more frequently. She was demanding that she see the new baby and to make sure it didn’t turn out ‘like the last one’.

I snatched the letter from my mother’s hand. “I would love to give her a piece of my mind.”

“Now, now Leopoldine, she has her ways and that’s what she lives by. You certainly wouldn’t want someone telling you that-” She stopped herself when she caught what she was about to say. “In any case, I’m going to tell her once again that Bronn is sick and that we can’t travel.”

“She can’t even get off her bony ass to come down here?” My father snapped.

“She thinks you’ll kill her dear,” my mother huffed.

“Good! That’s what I want her to think.”

“We can’t keep her at bay forever though,” she huffed. “The older she gets, the more impatient she grows.”

I looked at the letter in my hand, and it felt thicker than the ones that had come before. I opened it and read it for myself. It didn’t take long to come across the first thing that set my blood to steam.

“She says she has ideas for my marriage,” I guffawed.

My mother rolled her eyes. “She always has ideas.”

My father picked up Bronn and carried him over to trade with me. Bronn sat happily in my grasp as he read over the letter.

“She’s crazier than I am!”

My mother slouched back in her seat. “By how much, dearest?”

My father made sneering and mocking faces at the letter. “Leo has an intended already lined up! I have plans for her!”

Another turn of phrase that sunk the metaphorical dagger of fear into my liver.

“You’re still on that?” My mother rose and took Bronn from me. “But what is she on about?”

“She says since we now have a male heir we need to worry about what will happen to Leopoldine. Talking about her as if she’s going to die alone or destitute because of ‘my worrisome ways’.”My father ripped the letters into shreds then tossed them into the fireplace. “It isn’t her place to say how I should worry about my heir!”

I looked into Bronn’s big brown eyes for reassurance.

My father was huffing and puffing enough to suck in the castle walls. “And besides, Brevalan is the only suitor I will accept for Leo.”

“He’s been away all this time, I would have figured you’d have changed your mind about him by now.” My mother began walking away with Bronn, heading towards the hall and probably her study.

My father scoffed, then turned and looked at me. “Come on, let's throw axes and blow off some steam.”

I wanted to open my mouth and ask him who his heir was, but the breath left my body. I followed behind him, watching his back as he strut down the halls.

“He’ll come back one day, but I told him to train as long as he needed,” my father said.

“Huh?” I gasped.

He glanced over his shoulder. “Brevalan, you looked worried when he was brought up. I told him to train until he was satisfied, and that when he came back he would continue to work hard.”

“But why did you send him away?” I asked.

“Because then he’d be able to receive better training. A wider variety of training actually.” he looked down at me and grinned. “If he learned only from me then he’d know everything I know and then he could use that against me. It’s best that he knows little of my methods.”

My heart sank. “Then why do I know everything you know?”

“Because your mother would have throttled me for sending you away. But don’t you fret, I’ve kept a few of my tricks.” We reached the axe rink and he began inspected edges.

Not what I was concerned with. “Will you send Bronn away then?”

“Not unless I wanted your mother to burn me alive!” He selected two axes, tossing them up into the air then catching their handles. “I doubt she’d let me send him out alone to pick apples well into his thirties.” He turned, slinging an axe with all his might and hitting the target. He held out the second axe to me. “Stop fretting over it. You two will still be some of the best warriors in all the world.”

I took the axe and tried to shake off my fears. “I know, Dad.”

As the seasons turned cold again, fears that Bronn would get sick plagued my family. My father brought in new physicians, as well as worked on ways to keep the palace warmer. I trained outside to escape the bedlam and stress. Sometimes I found it hard to go inside, because I feared that once I did I’d find Bronn sick.

I’d sit out in the cold, watching my breath fade into the air. One late afternoon, a figure came and stood beside me. I looked up and up, until I realized who it was.

“So you do remember me,” Brevalan laughed.

I jumped to my feet. “You’re the last person I expected to see! But I certainly remember you!” I patted his arm in welcome. “What are you doing here? Are you back for good or something already, it’s only been a year and a half!”

“No. I’m not so lucky as to be back for good. My brothers sent for me, they’ve decided to come and join me.” He set down his things then sat on the bench.

I returned to sitting beside him. “How long do you plan to stay?”

“Not sure. I haven’t decided.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll let my brothers finish up their business here and tend to their belongings before we travel.”

I couldn’t stop looking at him. Not much had changed, but there were definite signs of his training. His arms looked stronger, his face was scruffy, and there were new tattoos on the back of his hand.

I smiled brightly as I snapped myself out of staring. “It might be loud inside, but would you like to come in and warm up?”

“In a moment.” he exhaled heavily. “I’ve been on foot most of the day, I just want a moment off of them.” he then turned his head towards me. “Your father sent me word about your brother. Congratulations.”

“Yeah.” I looked back out over the yard. “He’s amazing.”

Brevalan leaned forward onto his knees. “Is something the matter?”

I shook my head. “I guess not.” I turned and smiled at him. “It is good to see you here though.”

He smirked. “I figured you would have forgotten about me by now.”

“Oh no!” I laughed. I cupped my hands around my ears. “Anytime I throw an axe or spar with someone I can hear your voice ringing like an annoying chime in my ears.” I then shushed him. “You’re veering to the left!” I said tauntingly. “You’re going to far to the left!”

Brevalan laughed loudly, leaning back in the seat and holding his gut. He beamed down at me and my cheeks went warm. “Well, are you?”

I pinched my fingers together. “A little still. But you never showed me how to throw properly.”

He smiled serenely. “If I wasn’t so tired, I’d show you now.”

“You’ll never show me, '' I chortled. “Because then you’ll know I’ll be better than you and you’ll never be able to hold that over my head.”

“That is true,” he teased.

“I know.” I then stood up and offered my hand. “Come on, it’s warm inside and I’m sure my father would love to offer you a warm drink.”

“I thought you said it was loud inside.” Brevalan took hold of my hand and rose from the bench.

“We can find somewhere quiet, I’m sure. Everyone is just worried about Bronn.” I kept hold of his hand as I took him inside.

Inside the halls I could hear my parents arguing in the distance, so I took Brevalan another way. I took him into the opposite wing where my mother had made a greeting room for guests.

“I can sneak down to the kitchen and get something to eat,” I offered.

“Just resting a moment is good enough for me.” He huffed as he took a seat. He pulled out his hair from inside his coat, tossing it over the back of the chair. “That, and good company.”

“It must be bad out there if you consider me good company.”

He smirked. “The man your father sent me to train with is a strict man. The few of us he kept on as students barely get along and he fosters that competition between us.”

That made me think about Bronn and I for a split second.

Brevalan sighed. “And even if we only knew each other for a short time, I still enjoyed your company. After all, I’m working towards being your most trusted hand.”

“And we were engaged for a short period,” I laughed.

“Ah yes, those blissful few moments I had a bride. I remember them fondly.” His amber eyes fell upon me and his smile turned nostalgic. “Have you thought of me since I left?”

“Left,” I snickered. I then smiled and nodded my head. “More than I expected. I think you left an impression. Did I?”

“Your father writes about you so often, I have no other choice.”

My cheeks warmed and tingled. “About that. I had no clue my father wrote to you, or else I would have sent letters as well.”

“Now that you know, you can.”

I smiled shyly and nodded. “Maybe I will.”

“Then I can get the story straight from you and not your father,” he chuckled.

I leaned forward in my seat and pinched my brow. “Just exactly what is he saying about me?”

Brevalan glanced away, reaching up and rubbing his jaw. “Anything a father might say about his child.”

“That might work on me if my father was normal,” I huffed. “Now out with it. What does he say?”

Brevalan leaned his head back and exhaled loudly. “You see that is where it gets tricky.”

The hairs on the back of my neck prickled up.

“Most of what he writes, he says to me in confidence. And since he’s taking care of me and my brothers, I feel I should uphold some bond between us, even if I do plan to fight him several times in the future.”

I swallowed and sat back.

“I will say he does an awful lot of bragging about you. He’s more proud of anything you do than anything he’s ever done.” Brevalan looked into my eyes. “He thinks you’re the moon in his sky. Those are his exact words.”

I pressed my lips together and nodded. “I knew that! I was wondering if he had said anything else.”

“He makes me worry that I will never be able to catch up. I’m also mildly terrified of you.” His smile makes my heart flutter. “But I just remind myself that you go left.”

I laughed, bowing my head down to hide how big my smile had become. “But by the time you come back, I won’t. I swear on that.”

He grinned at me. “And like I said, I can’t wait to see it.”

I suppose some time during the evening we both fell asleep by the fire. Brevalan had been traveling, and I had been fretting over the coming winter and Bronn. I woke to a chill, spying that the fireplace was soon to go out.

I got up to add wood to the fire and I looked down at Brevalan asleep in the chair. His legs were stretched out before him, splayed a bit, and his head was turned to the side so his cheek was smooshed and his mouth hung open.

I fought with myself for a long time, longer than I should have. I tiptoed closer to Brevalan looking at him up close for once. The way his jaw and neck met in a muscular curve had me biting my lip. Then how his shirt hung open, showing the top of his chest and the hair upon it made my heart skip a beat. I stretched out my fingers to touch his cheek, but recoiled them again when he grunted.

His hand slid down his stomach, rubbing before resting again. I saw the new tattoo on the back of his hand was some sort of flower I had never seen before. I came closer to him, closing my eyes for a moment then pulling away. I couldn’t do it. Instead I went back to the fireplace.

“Coward.”

Every hair on my body stood on end. I turned back to see Brevalan’s eyes was cracked open and he was smirking.

“What?” I huffed. “Go back to sleep, you’re dreaming.”

“No, I don’t think so.” He sat up and his long hair fell over his chest.

I turned back to the fireplace. “Then you’re imagining things.”

Brevalan stood up from his chair as I placed fire onto the glowing embers. I felt him come up right behind me. I ignored him, not even looking his way as he knelt down beside me.

“Look at me,” his deep voice rumbled.

I grimaced. “No.”

His lips pressed against my cheek when I refused to turn. It was warm, a little wet, and it made my insides squirm with glee.

“Because of your father’s letters, you’ve never been out of my mind,” he whispered.

I bit my lip and stayed quiet.

“I want to be your king, but I will settle for a knight as long as I get to remain by your side.”

I turned my head and looked at him. “You have to work hard.”

Brevalan grinned, placing his hand upon my face as I placed a kiss upon his lips. I forgot to breathe until he pulled away, placing his thumb upon my bottom lip. He smiled and pressed his forehead against mine, which felt even more intimate than the kiss.

“Why do I feel like this?” I murmured. “I’ve never felt so nervous around someone.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

I shook my head.

He kissed the tip of my nose then smoothed the hair away from my face. “Leopoldine, you terrify me for many reasons. Your strength. Your ferocity. But mostly by just existing in my presence and I cannot do anything about it.”

I giggled and ran my fingers through his hair, something I had wanted to do since I first met him. “If you could do something, what would you do?”

He pressed his lips to my ear and whispered. I had been prepared for a lot of things, but I had not been prepared for what he said. My face instantly turned red and I had to pull myself away for a second.

“Was it something that I said?” Brevalan chuckled.

I cleared my throat. “You’re just fooling with me, aren’t you?”

Brevalan caught my chin between his fingers and lifted my head. “I wouldn’t fool with you, that’s dangerous.”

I gulped.

“If I could, I would do everything possible to make you feel my devotion. I’d bathe you in my kisses and I’d make your legs grow weak.” He smiled. “If I ever win your hand you would never a know a night without my affection.”

“Shut up.” I kissed him hard, cupping his face in my hands if only to make him stop talking. I did want to hear his words though, but I was not prepared for them.

The doors opened and I sat up in alarm. My father stood there, scanning the room before his eyes fell on me.

My father sighed with relief. “There you are, Leo! What on earth are you doing here by yourself?”

Brevalan sat up from the floor with a guilty look upon his face.

My father’s eyes widened. “Brev my boy, when did you get here?”

“Earlier this evening, sir.” Brevalan stood in attention and I stepped aside from him to not seem so culpable.

My father rubbed his chin, his eyes darting between Brevalan and I. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

“I was kissing your daughter, sir,” Brevalan said without an ounce of fear.

I stared up at him, shaking down to my toes.

My father nodded, his eyes darting to me and then back to Brevalan. He huffed and tilted his chin up. “Did she like it?”

Brevalan flinched. “Sir?”

My father motioned to me. “Were you kissing him back, Leo? Was it mutual between the two of you?”

I gulped and nodded shakily. “I…I was, Dad. It was uhm…both of us.”

He sighed and placed his hands upon his hips. “So I was interrupting something.” he then sighed. “Well, I guess now I have to be a father and separate you two. Come along Leo. Brevalan, stay here and I’ll come back to show you a room.”

“Yes, sir.”

I touched Brevalan’s hand before following my father. I left the room with him, stepping into the hallway where silence became a crushing weight to bear. I stared at his back for a long while as he took me through the dark hallways.

“Dad?” My voice cracked.

“I used to sneak around with your mother like that,” he sighed. “That made me very nostalgic.”

I opened my mouth then shut it. “You aren’t mad?”

“I’m surprised, but I am not mad.” He turned around and put his arm around me. “I know how young hearts can pitter patter. But I will have a stern talk with that young man.”

“We just kissed,” I murmured.

“I know, Leopoldine. But I am still your father and a younger lover once long ago. It’s my job to give these lectures,” he chuckled.

“You really aren’t mad?” I murmured.

My father turned to face me, placing both his hands upon my shoulders. “Do you like him, Leopoldine?”

I nodded. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

“Good. Then you’re just like me. I was certain I’d never fall in love, only in lust. And then I met your mother and my whole world changed. I loved her at first sight, and I knew I would do anything in this world to keep her.” he smiled at me and kissed the top of my head. “You can make it to your room from here. I’m going to go back and talk to him.”

“Be nice,” I said sternly.

“I’ll let him live,” he chortled as he walked away.

I went into my room and sighed. Touching my face I realized I was still blushing and warm. I sat down upon my bed and looked out the window as clouds floated before the moon. I laid back in bed as my mind wandered aimlessly through the words Brevalan had spoken.

“When I become queen, I’ll marry him.”

---------

Not long after my sixteenth birthday my father gave me the opportunity to train my own knights. I was excited, but only until I learned he wanted to begin focusing on Bronn and his training. While it was a worrisome moment, I decided it was best to put my focus onto deciding the kind of people I wanted around me, as they would be with me when I was queen.

I went into the village, selecting six young women. I decided if I was going to have these people around me, I wanted them to be like me so we would all understand one another. Two of them, Kirsa and Veerle, became my constant companions, and the three of us worked together on the best training regimen for our knights.

“Our best means would be horseback,” Veerle suggested. “We can strength train all we want, but our best advantage would be learning how to combat mounted.” She was a tiefling and was the tallest and strongest of my girls as well as the most educated. She came from a well off family but had worked on her family’s farm as soon as she could walk.

“Archery!” Kirsa interjected excitedly. “Aiming and shooting, those will be what's most fun.” She was much more petite and thin than most of my girls, but she held a vicious streak inside her that made her a terrifying combatant. The others called her the Goblin.

Veerle gave her a look and her tail twitched. “It’s not about what’s the most fun.”

“Oh come on!” Kirsa whined. “We can swing battle axes all the time. Arrows give us range! The give us speed! They’re silent, most people don’t know they’ve been hit until it’s too late,” she giggled with glee.

Veerle then gave me the look.

“She’s right,” I grumbled reluctantly. “And most of the girls are already performing well in archery.”

“That’s not what worries me. The Goblin does.”

Over the years we perfected our craft. Our horses were carefully selected and bred, our girls were trained to be the best shooters in the land. We became a vicious and beautiful force to be reckoned with.

Around my twenty-first birthday my mother fell ill. I asked that any celebration be canceled, as I didn’t feel like celebrating while she was sick.

“Do you think she’ll be okay?” Bronn asked me one night. He had been having nightmares and he took to coming and sleeping with me.

I stroked his hair, giving him a faint smile. “She’ll be fine. She just needs her rest. She gets better by the day.”

Boon went quiet, holding onto his stuffed knight toy. “Are you okay?”

I chuckled. “What are you going on about, little prince? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

He looked up at me with those big eyes and pouted. “I keep feeling you hurt.”

I sighed and pulled him into my arms. “Don’t you worry about your big sister. I will be okay. As long as I have you around, I will always find a reason to smile.”

His small hands touched my face. “What if the shadow man comes back?”

“Don’t you worry about the shadow man either. I handle him just fine.” I kissed the tip of his nose. “Now get to sleep. We can’t have you getting sick either.”

Bronn settled down, closing his eyes and holding his toy close.

I hated he worried so much, but he seemed to feel everything that those around him felt. Father said it was a special power, and one we should watch and cultivate.

But the shadow man was something else. He was a gargantuan man clad only in black who would appear at the palace every few months. He kept his face obscured, wrapped in black cloth, and his hands were stained as if by ink. Father’s wrestling matches had grown, and I had started taking on challengers myself the same way my father did. I would let any challenger come forward and select their choice in weapon. The shadow man began showing up not long after.

During our first fight, he chose a sword. I could tell he was being tentative, so I put everything I had into the fight.

“You choose a sword but you’re using it like a shield!” I yelled at him. “Why challenge me if you’re only going to act delicately!” I struck his sword and he threw me back. I went flying into the ground, hitting so hard it nearly knocked the air from my lungs.

“I was merely waiting to see how you danced around the arena,” he replied with a gravelly voice. “Now I know how you move, and I won’t be gentle again.” He held out his hand and helped me up from the ground. “Now, let's start again.”

I wiped my face and nodded. “Be prepared. Now that I know you watch, I won’t move the same way twice.”

The match ended in a strange stalemate. I was more exhausted, but I had landed a blow to him that slowed him down. My father called the match, realizing both of us were at the ends of our ropes.

The next match he paid back my final strike with another, resulting in a cut on my arm that had my mother panicked for weeks. But the resulting scar had both my father and I proud ever since.

“I look forward to these matches, princess,” the shadow man told me. “You keep me on my toes like no other opponent has.”

I looked him up and down, always marveled by the size of his arms and thighs. “How so? You appear awfully flat footed.”

He chuckled, and that deep, raspy sound always ignited the woman in me. “I think it’s because you hold no expectations for the fight. You simply become a warrior when you battle.”

I smiled up at him, more flattered than if he had complimented my eyes. “You could woo a woman with words like those.”

“Not just any woman, princess. Only you.”

Perhaps I had lust in my heart for a man who kept himself hidden. What woman hasn’t fallen for someone tall, dark, and mysterious?

I found him taking care of his wounds late one evening. It was a memory I carried with me as often as I thought about the kiss I shared with Brevalan. He was putting a bandage around his arm as I came upon him. His back stiffened in attention and both of us remained silent.

I approached, letting my tunic hang open so my breasts were almost presented.

“Princess,” he growled.

“I just wanted to let you know how much I enjoy our little rivalry.” I bent down, kissing where I thought his mouth might be through the black fabric. I felt his hot breath, his lips, and then he pushed me away.

“Careful, princess,” he snarled warningly.

I smirked and reached down into his lap. “Are you sensitive, shadow man?”

He growled, moaning as my fingertips found purchase on something big. “You shouldn’t be aiming for such a dangerous game.”

“I know what I want. Fighting you gives me great pleasure.”

The shadow man snarled, grabbing my hand and forcing it down upon his cock. “Do you even know how to handle such a weapon?”

I chuckled, groping and squeezing him through his pants. “Do you?”

He moaned again, sending shivers through my body. “Why are you after this, princess? Is this some rebellion?”

“I was taught that desire is worth pursuing. It’s worth it to fulfill it” I undid the laces of his pants. “You don’t have to take off your mask, shadow man. I don’t need your kisses or your affection. I just want to be fulfilled.”

The shadow man grunted, standing up and placing me over a table. He yanked down my britches then began fondling between my legs. I whimpered and pressed my cheek into the table. His fingers were rough and thick, rubbing against my softest part until wetness began to flow. His finger dipped inside and I felt a wash of relief with a new tension.

“Do you really enjoy fighting me so much, princess?” The shadow man breathed.

I moaned for him. “Yes. Nothing gives me more pleasure, until now.”

His fingers pressed deeper while another rubbed against the sensitive bud at the top of my folds. “Are you sure you want this?”

“I’ve thought about it long enough. I no longer want the fantasy, shadow man. I want to know the truth.”

He pulled his hand away, and my poor slit felt wanting. I gasped as I felt him press against me. His strong hands kneaded into my thick thighs, his hard cock pressed against my ass.

“Is this the truth you seek?” He growled. “Do you feel it now?”

I closed my eyes, trying to imagine the shape and size of him. He felt quite big, much bigger than I expected.

His hips moved slightly, dipping so his cock slipped between my thighs. My wetness coated his shaft as he rubbed it against me. “Do you still want it?”

I gulped and whined. “Yes. I want it.”

“Then, sweet princess, you shall have it.” The shadow man was inside me, stretching me, taking my breath away. His heat radiated through my loins and melted my knees so I had to rely on the table to keep me up.

“Fucking hell,” the shadow man snarled. “You’re so damned wet.”

“I’ve wanted this for so long!” I wheezed. “It’s better than I thought.”

He rutted inside me, groaning as his fingers kneaded into me. “This cannot be your first,” he snarled.

I lifted my rear, pressing it against his stomach. “It won’t be the last, I’ll tell you that.”

“Princess, how dare you?” He pulled out then slammed back hard inside me. “I had no warning.”

I bit my lip as I smiled. “Harder. Like you’re trying to fight me!”

He drove in deeper again, moving both me and the table.

“Just like that,” I purred.

“Leo! Leo!” I was pulled from my dreams, shake awake by my brother.

“What’s wrong? What?” I sputtered and kicked the blankets. I was caught somewhere between the shadow man’s embrace and Bronn’s sniffling. “I’m here! I’ here I-” I turned to look into Bronn’s terrified expression. “Oh no, was it a bad dream?” I was having such a good one, but his fear took me out of it completely.

Bronn threw his face down onto my chest and started weeping.

“Hey.” I sat up, holding him tight. “Talk to me. What happened?”

“I don’t want you to go,” Bronn blubbered.

I chuckled. “Go? I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying here.”

Bronn shook his head, hiccuping and sniffling.

I rubbed his back gently, trying to get him to talk. “It’s okay, Bronn. I’m right here. Big sister is always going to be here, especially for you.”

Bronn whimpered and held onto my nightgown tightly. “You have to though.”

I reached the side table, grabbing the cup of water I kept there for Bronn. “Tell me about your dream. What happened?”

Bronn sniffled, lifting his head as I offered him the cup. He took it in both hands, looking down inside where the moonlight reflected off the surface. “You trade places with mom, and you go in her place.”

I furrowed my brow. “Go where?”

Bronn drinks down the water, lifting his head up only to breathe. “Somewhere dark. Something grabs you there with these scary hands!”

“That’s just a dream, Bronn. It’s okay.”

He was quiet, keeping his eyes cast down.

I smiled and tickled the back of his neck. “Aside from Father, I’m the strongest person here. No hands are going to grab me. Got it?”

Bronn giggled and finally looked up at me. “You sure?”

“Positive.” I laid him back down in bed. “Now back to sleep with you. I’m sure Father has some big plans in store.”

The next day I was outside with Veerle and Kirsa, working on our new batch of recruits, when I was fetched by one of our maids from the castle.

“It’s urgent,” she breathed heavily. “Your father is demanding you get there now!”

“Is it my mother?” I asked as I set my weapons aside.

She shrugged. “I’m not sure. I was simply grabbed in the hallway.”

I followed her back inside where my father was waiting at the door. He grabbed my hand right away, pulling me into the castle.

“Is Mother okay?” I gasped.

“For now,” he huffed. “But we have something serious on the horizon.”

I grabbed his hand tight. “You’re scaring me!”

We went into my mother’s room where she was sitting up in bed with Bronn by her side. She looked up at me, a smile on her face but concern in her eyes.

“I hope he’s not being dramatic,” she sighed.

“He is.” I yanked my hand away. “What’s going on?”

I saw the letter in her lap, and I knew the wax seal immediately. “Oh, it's Grandmother again.” I rolled my eyes and took the letter from her.

“She’s insisting on coming down since it is your twenty-first year and your mother is ill,” my father scoffed.

“I think it would be alright,” my mother muttered.

“But the stress she causes would undo all the work you’ve done to recuperate,” my father fussed.

I looked over the letter carefully, making sure to read between the lines. But grandmother's intentions were as clear as crystal. She would arrive to prepare birthday celebrations for me as well as tend to her child, Arda the second.

A thought flickered in my mind, one that would protect my mother but possibly be a torturous event for for me. “What if I go to her instead?”

Bronn gasped loudly.

“I won’t let you fall on such a blade,” my father huffed. “Maybe we can build a moat around the entire kingdom instead.”

“Darling,” my mother spoke up warningly. “Think reasonably. Where would we ever find enough shovels for such a thing?” She then looked at me apologetically. “Leopoldine, you don’t have to do that either.”

My grandmother was not a well liked person in our family. Luckily, her being a queen kept her at a safe distance for the most part. “But I would be dealing with her regardless. At least if I went to her you’d still be able to rest in peace. I’ll take Kirsa and Veerle with me, it shouldn’t be too horrible.”

“You say that-” my father grumbled. “But that woman is a vile cu-”

“Darling!” My mother snapped at him while putting her arm around Bronn’s head. “My mother is very hard to get along with,” my mother agreed.

“I’ll look at it as mental training,” I chuckled. “Can always do with more training. Right, Father?”

He frowned at me. “Even I wouldn’t be this cruel to you.”

I smiled. “Send her word that I will come to her. After all, it must be so hard to travel at her age.”

My father sighed. “I will send someone for you if Bronn has a bad dream.”

I frowned and looked at Bronn who gave me a worried expression. “I’m sure Bronn will have sweet dreams all this time. Won’t you, little prince?”

Bronn kept quiet but nodded.

“Yes, well, it still stands!” My father huffed.

Word was sent ahead to Arda the First, and within a few days I was ready to leave with Kirsa and Veerle. I was nervous, to say the least, but I knew I was doing this to protect my mother.

The night before I was set to go, my father pulled me aside to have a private conversation with me. Most of it was nothing new, we mainly went over our attack strategies and how to tie knots. Then, he said something strange.

“Arda the First was obsessed with my brother,” he murmured.

“Really? You’ve never told me this,” I said with a chuckle.

He sighed. “It was never something that needed to be brought up. But you’re an adult now, have been for quite a while. And I didn’t want Arda bringing it up and surprising you.”

It was a bit shocking, but nothing too jarring. “Good thing she and Julian never got together. They would have been…troublesome I bet.”

“She was already married by the time she met and fell for Julian. But when her husband died, she thought they could be together-” It sounded like he had more to say, but he kept quiet. “It doesn’t matter really. He didn’t last much longer.”

“You happened.”

He smiled and nodded his head. “That’s correct, my dearest girl.” He sat back in his chair and took a deep breath. “Your grandmother isn’t like your mother, and she’s even farther from me. She’s not happy. I want you to keep that in mind. Unhappy people don’t like happiness around them. And you are a very happy lady, are you not?”

“I like to think I am.”

“Good. I’m glad,” he sighed. “Your grandmother will do what she can to chip away at it. It’s like she feeds off misery.”

“I’ll do my best to fight her off. Don’t worry about me. Just take care of mom and Bronn until I get back.”

He nodded. “As long as Bronn is kept away from here, that’s all that matters.”

This did chip away at me, but I just smiled.

“I promise, should anything happen, I will send someone for you. I will not let you stay with her for long. You belong here, and Bronn would miss you horribly.”

I smiled. “I’ll bring myself home.”

“I will still send someone,” he grinned. “I have just the man in mind too.”

“I will have Veerle and Kirsa with me. They are my best friends and my my trusted companions. I think they will have no issues dragging me home if need be.”

“I’m your father,” he replied sternly. “I know what’s best. I have no faith in your grandmother, but I have faith in this one I have in mind.”

I rolled my eyes and laughed. “Okay fine. Send your man. He won’t be needed though. He will just slow me and my girls down.”

I left in the morning, bidding farewell to my family before I rode off into the cold morning mist.

“I’ve heard that Arda the First is a vicious ruler!” Kirsa giggled with excitement. “Is she prone to torture and dungeons?”

“What on earth are you on this morning?” Veerle fussed at her.

Kirsa’s jaw dropped open. “It’s just cool, don’t you think! Arda the First is legendary. She was never meant to be queen, but she managed to marry a king who was already betrothed and promised to another! She’s known as a master tactician and even an enchantress in some circles.”

“My father calls her other things,” I replied, cracking a smile from Veerle.

“She almost had your uncle, King Julian as well, but your father saw to him before she got much closer to her goal,” Kirsa clicked her tongue. “And you father is a whole other thing! Did you know he mined with the dwarves for five years?”

“Yes, yes, I am well aware of my fathers adventures.” I then furrowed my brow. “Five years? He said it was three?”

“Oh yes! From the time he was five, that’s where King Julian put him anyways,” Kirsa chortled.

Bronn was almost five, I thought to myself. Why would Julian do such a thing to such a little boy? It felt so ridiculous, I wouldn’t even do that to the child of my enemies.

“No wonder the king is well formed. He’s had jewels to look up to,” Veerle joked.

“I could work in a mine!” Kirsa exclaimed.

“How unfortunate you work for me,” I replied. “So while we are with my grandmother, I suggest the both of you do research. See how their weapons fair and what materials they use. It would be nice to expand our armory if possible.”

“I’ve heard that Arda the First has an Illithid on her staff!” This started Kirsa on a long winded story that carried us almost to the gates of my grandmother’s palace.

I was taken from the gates by a silent young man who handed me a letter from my grandmother explaining to go with him. I followed him through the palace, which was much bigger than my home. Everything felt ast and endless and strikingly empty.

I was led into a large chamber where the fireplace was massive and covered by a huge grate. A large dog stood up from beside a chair and started growling.

“Down boy,” my grandmother murmured.

The silent young man bowed, leaving the room and closing the doors behind him. I stood there, waiting for grandmother to say something else, but she never spoke back up.

“It’s me,” I replied.

“I know who it is.” She rose from her chair, walking around it then staring at me. “It’s been a long time, Leopoldine. I haven’t seen you since you were very little.”

I really wasn’t sure what to do. “You’ve not changed much from what I remember. You're still the same as the picture in my mind.”

She walked towards me, only the click of her heels making any noise. I held my breath, afraid that would be too loud for her.

She approached, a stoney look upon her face that melted into a smile that made her look exactly like my mother. “It is so good to see you!” She took my hands in her own and squeezed. “Look how tall you are. I can’t believe it! Everyone on this side of the family are such runty creatures,” she laughed jovially. “Come, come. Let’s get you close to the fire so I can see you better.”

I was stunned by how nice she appeared. All my life I assumed she was an ice queen, bitter, and unhappy up in her tower. At least, from what my parents had told me about her, that's what I had gathered.

Arda the First had me stand before the fire, her big dog had it’s head raised but then it dropped back down to the stone floor. She looked at me with a smile then sighed.

“I am glad to see you, Leopoldine.”

I wasn’t prepared for this. “It has been a while,” I tried to laugh my nerves up.

She had me sit down and then she tapped her dog’s head. It got up and walked out of the door. “He’ll go to the kitchen and they’ll know to send up tea.”

“That’s a nice trick,” I replied.

“It’s easier to keep my dogs around rather than someone to follow me about all day. I prefer the company of animals at my age anyways. Do you keep any pets?”

“Uhm-” I was still baffled. “Bronn has his cats, a few tend to follow me around. I mainly keep horses.”

Arda the First nodded and smiled. “Are they for show? Do you ride?”

“They’re for riding,” I replied uncertainty. “Father allowed me to start training my own knights, and we’ve been training and breeding horses for a while now.”

She sighed. “I never liked the way Falko was raising you. It’s far too dangerous. And when you become queen, what really can you do with all that training? Do you plan to go into battle?”

I shrugged. “If I have to.”

She shook her head. “You look strong enough, I suppose. Do you even enjoy it?”

I nodded. “Very much so. I like weapons and training. And I’ve really enjoyed training my knights. My two best knights are with me on this trip; Veerle and Kirsa.”

“That’s all you brought with you?” She gasped in alarm. “What if you had been attacked or-” She stopped, freezing for a moment before she laughed. “Oh, of course! You’re quite prepared for such a thing. I’m so used to the ladies in our family being so much more vulnerable and delicate. I suppose it's a comfort knowing you can protect yourself.”

“Not just me. If I have to, I’ll protect as many people as I can.”

She smiled brightly, then turned as the tea cart was rolled into the room. She stood and took it, shooing away the staff member before bringing the cart towards the fire. She elegantly poured the tea into cups then offered one to me.

“I have a lot of plans for you while you are here, Leopoldine,” she said with a smile. “I want to make up for lost time, and celebrate what a stunning woman you’ve become.” She remained standing while she drank her tea.

“That will be nice,” I murmured. “But, I don’t want to stay away too long. They count on me back home.” I took a sip of tea, which I didn’t really like, while she watched me.

Arda the First tilted her head to the side. “I know they must rely on you dearly. Especially while your brother is so young.” She set her tea cup down and it sounded empty. “Especially when your father is off doing all his…wild ideas,” she chuckled.

“Uhm-” I felt a little dizzy. “He’s very active with Bronn, actually.”

Arda the first sighed. “That’s good to hear. He should be very involved with his son’s upbringing.” The way she said that made me a little anxious.

I rubbed my hand against my chest and cleared my throat. “Sorry, I must be tired from the journey.”

She took my teacup from me and then helped me to stand up. She placed me in front of the fire and looked up at me with a strangely blank expression.

“I think I need to stay seated,” I murmured.

Arda the First put her hand upon my cheek. She scowled, fingering a scar that was on my jaw. “You are beautiful, such a shame your father put you through such rigors.” She slid her hand down my arm, squeezing around my bicep. “I cannot believe my daughter allowed this to happen to you.”

I stood still as she prodded me, but I wasn’t going to let her get to me. I was expecting all of this. “Well-”

“Still, I would rather you look this way than sickly and scrawny. At least I can see those parents of yours have kept you healthy.”

I wobbled a bit and her hand clamped down tighter in mine.

A smile appeared, soft and cautious. She touched my face again. “You do look like him though.”

I was still taken aback by her words that I had even begun to process her sweet smile. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

Her fingers gently brushed under my lower lashes. “You have his eyes. They are almost exact. I never thought I’d gaze into them again.”

I floundered to speak, but I managed to croak out a reply. “Whose eyes?”

Her smile changed, but only slightly. “Why, your father’s eyes.”

I had dark brown eyes. My father had bright blue eyes. “What?” I said, still mired in the earlier confusion.

She cupped her hands around my face, holding me there. I felt small. Her grasp made me feel withered and tiny in her presence. I wanted her to let go, but there was no fight inside me. I was locked in her hands, held by her gaze.

Arda the First tilted her to the side, sly smile still on her lips. “Your father had striking brown eyes like these. They could send a man to his grave with just the right stare.”

“I uh-” I tried shaking my head, but that somehow made me feel worse. “I really need to rest a moment. This fire is…it’s really, really hot.”

“Oh,” she murmurs. “Not the man you call father. No. Your real father.”

An icy coldness twisted in my gut, as if steel had been slid down between my ribs and through my stomach.

“I can see Julian as clear as day upon your face.” Arda the First had tears in her eyes. “They could not take that away from you.”

I finally managed to pull away from her grasp. “What are you talking about?”

Arda the First sighed. “I was never supposed to tell you. I was threatened by that beastly Falko. He said it was best you never knew. He thought the truth would hurt you. But seeing you, I know what’s right for you, and I can’t let him and my daughter go on lying to you.”

My sides were aching and the coldness in my belly had turned to nausea. “What?” I could barely breathe as I spoke.

She placed her palm upon my cheek again. “Your father, your real father, is the man Falko killed. He took you and his bride as his own,lying to you all the while. He’s afraid of you, just like he was Julian.”

“Julian-” I choked and had to gasp for breath. “Julian is my father…that can’t be.”

She raised our hands, squeezing mine in a vice. “I have so much to tell you, Leopoldine. Much of your life has been kept hidden from you. And I will stand by it. That’s why your parents kept me at arms length. They were afraid of you, not me.”

I woke up in a cold room, my vision blurred around the edges. I must have fallen asleep while talking to Arda the First. My head was still swimming, that it took me a moment to reach the shore of my memories. I was not the daughter of Falko, I was the daughter of Julian.

I sat up, taking a deep breath and feeling much better with cold air in my lungs. I stood up from the bed and hobbled over the the window. Opening it, I saw there were storm clouds over the path home, and light rain had already begun falling here.

I felt so painfully angry that I didn’t know what to do with it. I got dressed and went down to the stables, finding my horse and retrieving my sword.

“Leo, there you are!” Kirsa squealed. “You won’t believe the types of arrows they shoot here!”

“Not now!” I roared at her. I stormed away with my sword clutched tight in my hand.

“Leo?” Kirsa followed behind me.

I went into the mud of the courtyard, and the first crate I saw I began bashing it over and over again with my sword.

“Leo!” Kirsa sounded unlike herself. “Leo, what’s wrong with you?”

I kept swinging the sword, over and over again. Someone near me was screaming at the top of their lungs.

“Leo, stop it!” Kirsa touched me, and I swung back. I hit her, knocking her over down into the ground. She held a stunned look upon her face.

Veerle was standing at the edges of the stables, a mortified look painting her usually stern expression. She looked at Kirsa then up at me.

I exhaled and shook my head at her. The screaming had stopped, and I thought that maybe it was inside my head.

Kirsa stood up and sniffled. She wiped her face then walked away and into the stables by herself.

Veerle approached me and tried to take my sword from my hand. I fought her at first, struggling to keep it in my grip. Then I simply let go and she yanked it from me. She then slapped me with her free hand, and the blur at the edges of my vision started to dissipate.

“What has come over you? We haven’t seen you in two days!” She roared at me.

I stretched my jaw and rubbed it. “I don’t know.”

Veerle rolled her eyes. “They won’t let us see you. We’ve been worried.”

I shook my head.

“Not good enough, Leo. Answer me.”

I closed my eyes and held my hand over my mouth. “She told me-” I gulped go a breath. “She told me that Falko isn’t my father.”

Veerle’s stare narrowed. “Then what the fuck is he?”

“My uncle,” I murmured. I opened my eyes and turned to face her. “Julian is my real father.”

Her harsh gaze softened, and her tail twitched behind her. Kirsa appeared back in the doorway, watching us from a distance.

Veerle rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. “And you trust her with that sort of information?”

“She made sense,” I murmured. “She-” I wiped rain away from my eyes. “She told me everything.”

“Which was?”

“Is she crazy?” Kirsa yelled from the door.

Veerle turned and gave her a look. “Seriously?”

I sniffled and tears started to flow. “Veerle it’s true!”

She put her arm around me and forced me back inside, sitting me down in the stable where she and Kirsa stood over me.

“Start from the beginning,” Kirsa urged.

I took a deep breath and held it until it hurt, exhaling until I felt empty. “Julian was sixteen when he took the throne,” I started.

“Duh!” Kirsa interrupted.

“Well, yeah, but he never married. Not until he met my mother. He came to her sixteenth birthday, intending to meet with Arda the First. Instead, he only had eyes for my mom.”

“Oh, so your half creepy guy,” Kirsa interjected again.

Veerle hissed at her. “Keep going.”

“He married my mother rather than Arda the First. But that’s when my mom and my dad…Falko met. At the wedding banquet. They said they met at a party, but they never said what sort of party.” I cupped my hands around the sides of my head. “They kept spending time together, and Julian realized what Falko was up to. So he sent Falko away, but he returned shortly after I was born.”

Kirsa was counting on her fingers. “He could still be your dad though depending on how long-”

“Two years,” I murmured.

“Never mind.”

I closed my eyes as more tears fell. “My dad was always telling me stories about how cruel and vicious Julian became. What if he was warning me? What if he was telling me that if I ever showed the same signs as him, that he would kill me?”

“Falko wouldn’t do that to you!” Veerle snapped.

Kirsa nodded. “Besides, if you did turn evil I would kill you first!”

“Hush,” Veerle hissed.

“I’m so confused. I feel like everything my father…that Falko ever told me was a lie or a warning. Has he been training me all this time so that he doesn’t feel responsible? If I do lose it and he’s there…then he’ll know how to kill me. Is he…is he going to train Bronn to kill me?”

“Stop that!” Veerle barked.

“Was Julian even mad to begin with? What if my father told all those lies to me to excuse why he killed him?”

Both Kirsa and Veerle went quiet.

“All accounts of his reign are nowhere to be found,” I sniffled. “He could have been a good king and my fath- Falko could be the crazy one.”

Veerle averted her gaze and remained silent.

“Could you confront him?” Kirsa spoke with a soft voice.

“I still don’t think you should trust Arda the First,” Veerle muttered.

I lifted my head and brushed away the tears from my face. “I don’t know who at all to trust right now.”

Kirsa looked up behind me then pointed. “What about that guy?”

I turned and saw the shadow man standing in the dark corner of the stable. I jumped up my feet in alarm, panic and terror flowing through me. This answered it. This affirmed my father knew my grandmother would talk. The shadow man was his man all this time!

Veerle pulled me back. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for the princess,” the shadow man rasped.

Veerle must have had the same thought I did. She went forward, holding up my sword towards him. “Get out of here, or you’ll be put into a shallow ditch.”

The shadow man chuckled. “I was instructed to keep an eye on the princess. I just wanted her to know that I will be around.”

“That’s fucking creepy,” Kirsa scoffed.

“King Falko sends his regards,” the shadow man directed at me. “He said you won’t be alone.” He charged Veerle, catching her off guard and snatching away my sword from her. She sank her claws into his arm while he held the blade to her throat. She released and he removed the blade.

“This isn’t safe for you, princess,” the shadow man murmured. “Until you return home, you’re in a death trap.”

My stomach sank into my knees. “What does that mean?”

His head turned at a sound and he vanished from the stables as voices came from behind. Kirsa pulled me out, taking me away as Veerle regained herself.

“I can’t believe this,” Kirsa whispered.

“I know,” I huffed.

“Your father couldn’t have really sent him!” Veerle snapped. “It’s too much of a coincidence.”

I frowned. “Is it? Right before I left he said he would send someone for me. Why? I have you two. Why would he need to send someone unless he knew Arda the First was going to do this? And the shadow man…the only person I can’t seem to get the upper hand with.”

“It’s weird for sure,” Kirsa replied. “Sexy, but weird.”

“Sexy?” Veerle snipped.

“I don’t know what to do,” I heaved. “What am I supposed to do?”

Kirsa snapped her fingers. “Seduce him.”

“Oh my god, Kirsa, no!”

I rubbed my hands down my face. “My head feels like it’s dipped in cream. Everything’s gunked up,” I growled.

“What have you been doing since we last saw you?” Veerle asked. “Did you get sick?”

“I felt tired when I started talking to Arda the First,” I huffed. “Maybe I was coming down with something. I woke up in my room a while ago.”

“Maybe we should think about leaving,” Veerle murmured. “All sides could be true.”

“What do you mean?” Kirsa asked. “How can everyone be right?”

[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?”

[akaashioppa]

Forever Will Never Be The Same

pairings: oikawa x reader

summary: The reader finally confronts her husband Oikawa after cheating allegations in the male locker room. angst!!!

warnings: curse words, mentions of the reader having a son with Oikawa, confronting of cheating. 

w/c: 1736

A/N: first time writing for Oikawa :)

Haikyuu Masterlist  Masterlist

“Everyone get out now!”

Your voice echoed off the metal lockers of the locker room. Eyes widened as you made your way into the changing room, not because of the fact that a girl was entering the male’s locker room. It was the fact that Oikawa (Y/N) was coming to kick her husband’s ass. Just as every man passed you to flee, their musky scent filled your nose making you cringe.

After the final whistle of the game, people were scavenging to take pictures with Oikawa Toru except you. Each morning that you woke your husband up he would give you one of those cheeky grins that he was giving the fans right now, the stupid grin was fake. Laughter, jokes, and cries filled your ears, for what reason? The Great King made his grand entrance back to the court, winning both sets with the help of Iwaizumi. The Great King himself showered his fans with love and pictures while you stood from afar, anger flowing through your veins. Knowing the Poker Face King for ten years and having been married to him for two, it was easy to mimic the grin. As girls would pass by screaming about the pictures they took with him you would shoot them that famous grin. 

You timed each moment perfectly, celebrating the win, pictures with fans, interviews with the sports commentators, more fan interaction and now he hits the locker room for a shower. Luckily for you, he was beginning to take his sweaty jersey off, beads of sweat from the previous game were still prominent.

“What are you doing here?” The look on his face was one of a kind, it was a mixture of panic and anger. Nothing to be afraid of, it’s not like he didn’t give you the same look when you caught him at the bar with another woman. Or the time you were driving down the road with his phone constantly going off, every other minute he’d get notifications, this would go on for hours.

The yelling of the men from the locker room made you come back to reality. Have they not seen a woman before or was it because you were standing there looking at their dick prints? A white tint cast over their knuckles from how hard they were holding their towels around their waist. ‘What a sight to see

“You can either tell me the truth or you can tell me the truth there’s no in-between.” You barked at Oikawa, men were still scattering out of the locker room. You barely gave them time to leave before you bombarded your husband with your question. 

The  panic on his face was quite entertaining, he moved in front of you so you couldn’t see his half-naked teammates running out of the locker room.“What are you talking about!?”

“When were you going to tell me that you went to a nightclub with Iwaizumi!? He told me everything so I’m giving you the chance to come clean about it!”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you were going to be mad.”

“Did you sleep with her?” You got straight to the point, there was no need for you to sit here and procrastinate any longer. This has been on your mind ever since you got those three attachments from Iwaizumi.

“No” He scoffed, “Why would I sleep with her? I have too much respect for you to sleep with her.”

“Oh really, the way you were holding her waist makes me think differently. The way you kissed her neck makes me want to snap yours!” You held up a photo on your phone with him and another girl at the nightclub. His head was in her neck, you could see that he was kissing on it, his arms were wrapped around her waist but his hands were dangerously low.“Respect? Do you even know the definition of respect because if you did you wouldn’t have me out here looking stupid!”

He sat down on the bench of the locker room, his arms were tightly around his chest. Oikawa was already over this conversation, this wasn’t the first time you blew up in the face about this. Nor the second, he respected you in a weird way. He never laid hands on you, or even yelled at you but he couldn’t keep his hands off other women. 

“How do I make you look stupid!? I give you everything you want!”

“Everything but love.” You yelled desperately, the thing about arguing with him about these situations was that he’d always claim that he knew what you wanted. He’d always try to bring light on the situation when he clearly fucked up. He was a great husband, you guys had been dating since high school. Since he got the fame and money things turned upside down, he became a legit monster. 

“I show love to you every day, I make love to you every week!” His voice rose an octave, his hand was flying all over the place when he spoke. 

You were appalled, sickened, offended, that he could say something like that. It hurts to know that he thinks this way, it almost makes you feel worthless. Does he really consider having sex as love? “That’s not loving Toru, that's lust.”

He sighed, his hands were on his knees, he got up to finish packing up his things. “Well, I’m over it. I don’t want you here anymore. Leave”

“How can you give up so easily on us.” You forced his hands away from his bag, he looked at you with a confused face. You poked him hard in his chest slowly provoking him, “I forgave you so many times after you treated me like trash. All the times you cheated and came home with women’s numbers falling out of your pockets. Many sleepless nights just to make sure that your knee would stop bothering you. I wake up every morning to make you your special breakfast so you can be game ready and yet I haven’t given up on you.”

“I’m just tired of arguing with you. All you do is complain about my lifestyle. If you can’t keep up then we shouldn’t be together. How can I keep consoling you after you get all jealous about me hanging out with fans or me taking pictures with my fans? It’s just toxic (Y/N).” He spat back, he didn’t seem angered. It was more of an annoyed look. 

“Because you only hang out with female fans, it’s fine and all but when they’re posting sexual pictures with you, it’s a different story. I scroll down my feed to see you with more women than see pictures of us together. It’s like I don’t exist”

“Whatever (Y/N) I need to get ready for the after-party.”

“What about us? How are we going to fix this?”

“There is no us!” He screamed, his voice echoed off the lockers. He placed his hands on his hips trying to compose himself. “It’s only you and Torio. And me, Torio and volleyball! There is no us, not anymore and that’s it!”

You took a step back, each word was like a dagger in your heart. He would often bring your son into the matter. Ever since your son was born you’ve always felt like you and Oikawa had grown apart. It was like you were forcing yourself to stay for Torio’s sake. There would be days where things were good, on those days you and Oikawa wouldn’t argue. However, when days like this occur he’d make you hurt, you’d always end up questioning your ability of loving. Deep down you felt like you guys were drifting apart but you didn’t want to admit it. It was too painful, Oikawa would have been left if it weren’t for Torio. He wanted his fans and the sports media to look at him as a family man.

“Why is it so hard to ask someone to love me!?” Your breaking point had finally come, you held your hands over your mouth to stop the loud sobs. It was hard to know that your husband and high school sweetheart didn’t want you. You gave up everything to support him with his dreams, family, friends, work, school, and even your fucking sanity and yet she still treats you this way. 

He stood there watching you beat yourself down, he didn’t do anything but place a hand on your shoulder. You shrugged it off, the last thing you wanted was for him to touch you. “Listen I loved you back in high school but now high school is over. You’re still basing this love off of that and I’m not here for it. All these insecurities you have are a bit annoying in my defense. Maybe this relationship would work if you grew the fuck up.”

“You can’t give up on us now. We need each other. Torio needs his dad. ” Lie, you needed him. Yes, Torio needed his dad but you needed your husband. It was crazy to think that you would go back to him but it was just your toxic ways. You never loved anyone but him, he was all that you had. Your life that you lived was based upon him. 

“Look, we can talk about this later if you want, but right now I have thousands of fans waiting for me to show my face. You can either suck it up and go out there with me or you can hit the back doors and go home.”

“Toru…”

“What do you want?” He groaned, he turned back around with an annoyed face. He was fed up with you and even the situation. You knew he wanted you gone, he was waiting for the minute you’d leave so he could go and party. 

Obviously an answer, he was too consumed with himself to even realize that. It was the reason why you came in here yelling at his teammates to leave, you wanted to ask him a question in private. The thought of getting your feelings hurt in front of everyone was not ideal.

“I just asked a simple question. Did you sleep with her?”

You looked up at him for the first him, your vision was blurry but you could see him well enough to see that stupid smirk.“What do you think?”

[astrovian]

Interview with Richard Armitage for The Telegraph (30/10/22)

Transcript under cut

If anyone had asked Richard Armitage 10 years ago whether he’d ever thought about writing a book, he’d have laughed. “I’d have said, ‘I’m not clever enough’,” he tells me. “I always feel a bit of an underdog when it comes to intellectual pursuits. I didn’t graduate from Oxbridge, like so many of my peers at Lamda [the London Academy of Music and Dramatic Art].”

Yet here he is, the author of an atmospheric, icily tense audio-thriller, Geneva, about a Nobel prize-winning neuroscientist, Sarah, who is slowly losing her memory. The story, released earlier this month on the online audiobook and podcast service Audible as an “Audible Original”, takes in dementia, Big Pharma and biotech; Armitage narrates alongside Nicola Walker, his voice as soothing as melted chocolate.

“Audible asked me if I wanted to write something,” he explains. “I’ve narrated quite a few books for them and I think they checked the algorithm and realised I score quite highly with crime thrillers. They’ve seen I have an audience.”

Armitage, 51, says this in a self-effacing way. He’s been a fixture on the small screen since 2004, when he emerged as the brooding mill-owner John Thornton in the BBC’s adaptation of Elizabeth Gaskell’s North & South, delighting a generation of (let’s face it) female viewers. He has worked with exhausting regularity since then, notching up credits as the imperious dwarf king Thorin Oakenshield in The Hobbit film trilogy; inscrutable MI5 spy Lucas in the TV series Spooks; the deliciously villainous Sir Guy of Gisborne in the BBC’s Robin Hood; and the special-forces hard-man John Porter in Chris Ryan’s Strike Back. Most recently, he starred in two Netflix adaptations of the Harlan Coben novels The Stranger and Stay Close.

He is a consistently reliable screen presence: he often plays macho heroes with an interesting, sensitive side and was particularly excellent on stage as tormented visionary Astrov in Ian Rickson’s 2020 West End revival of Chekhov���s Uncle Vanya. But with grey hair now at his temples, Armitage is wary of taking all this for granted. Hence the branching into other mediums: he’s developing a TV show (which he can’t yet discuss) and, of course, there’s the new book.

“I don’t want to retire when I get to 60, but I don’t necessarily want to still be an actor-for-hire, either,” he says. “It’s quite a whimsical position to be in: one day you’re flavour of the month; next day, no one wants you.

“You can’t force your own relevance. As far as I’m concerned, I’ve never been relevant, I’ve just been lucky. I’m easy to work with, but I don’t think I’ve ever been hot.”

Some might disagree. Still, I don’t think I have ever met an actor who has such a complicated relationship with his own career. Armitage is a curious mix of self-deprecating, pragmatic and quietly anguished. He approaches each role with the dedication of a scholar, penning preparatory biographies for his character and immersing himself in research (he famously endured waterboarding to prepare for his spy character undergoing the torture in Spooks).

Yet he worries he is sometimes cast because of his looks. “A couple of times I’ve been hired for something and I go, ‘Oh, I thought I was here because of my brain, but actually it’s because you want totty on screen. I’ve done all this character analysis and you just want me to take my shirt off.’ People talk about the power of the male gaze. But the female gaze is just as interesting to talk about. It’s a marketing tool like any other.”

One wonders whether Armitage is actually perfectly happy taking his shirt off. He says he told himself that when he got to 50, from that point onwards, he’d keep his clothes on – but he’s at it again in Damage, Netflix’s forthcoming remake of the 1992 steamy thriller featuring Jeremy Irons and Juliette Binoche, in which he stars opposite Peaky Blinders’s Charlie Murphy.

Still, he says that it took him a while to understand why directors would cast him in a particular type of role. “For long stretches of my career, I would take what I was offered. Yet I wouldn’t understand why I was being asked to inflict violence all the time. Why am I firing guns and throwing punches? Why am I not playing gentle, fragile, broken little people?

“But then you watch yourself and you think, ‘Well, I’m pretty tall. And I seem to have this hyper-masculine energy that I was unaware of.’ Then I realised that was quite useful, because maybe the hard shell of a man often harbours a more fragile person that I could occasionally reveal. Because the world doesn’t really allow men to be fragile.”

Armitage grew up in a working-class family in Leicester and only attended the performing arts boarding school Pattison College thanks to a local-authority grant. He worked first in musical theatre, including stints in 42nd Street and Cats, before taking a three-year course at Lamda then joining the Royal Shakespeare Company. He has always worked hard, an ethic he puts down to both an insecurity about money (linked to his roots) and a gnawing anxiety about his ability.

He admits that the character of Daniel in Geneva – Sarah’s husband and also a scientist – contains a fair bit of himself. “Daniel’s wife has all the glory. He has to accept that he’s pretty average. I relate to that. I know there are people out there who are far better at all this than I am, and I feel my only forte is that I have the discipline to put my head down and work. I’ve always felt like this – in dance, music and acting. I’ve never had that natural, God-given genius, for instance, but when I was younger I knew I could become a fairly average cello player if I worked hard enough.”

Armitage came out at the age of 19, although it’s not something he’s talked about much. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not very interesting. I suppose if I were to stop being hired because of it, that would be something else. But we’ve moved on since those days, haven’t we?”

He genially bats away further questions about his personal life. “When I was younger, the actors I found the most intriguing, such as Gary Oldman, were the ones I knew the least about. I’ve always wanted to be that type of actor; I’ve never wanted to get in my own way. Otherwise it’s a bit like painting a picture then standing in front of it waving your hands.”

These days, he spends half the year in New York: he was advised to move to the US after The Hobbit to expand his career, but couldn’t stomach Los Angeles, so settled for the Big Apple instead. “Although I can’t say living there has brought me any extra work.” That professional angst never goes away. “In fact, it gets worse as I get older.”

He is aware of the absurdities of his profession. “I look at award ceremonies and premieres, in which we’re all swanning around in $400 suits, most of them borrowed, drinking champagne, and I think, ‘What is this illusion we’re all peddling? I’m from a working-class background: I should be on the other side of the barrier!’ ”

Then he laughs. “I say all this, but I’ll probably be seen at yet another film premiere next week.”

[mentalpolaroids]

2, 9 & 19 with Drew?

Strong badass

[gif creds to the owner. If anyone knows who owns this gif please let me know]

Blurb request | 2. I would never do that to you + 9. Ok, enough of this + 19. Don’t act like I didn’t hear you

Drew Starkey x female!Reader

Summary: After a whole week getting unpleasant text messages from someone she pleaded to forget, one in specific makes (Y/N) breakdown after months of pushing those hauting memories aside. Drew, concerned and in the dark of what left his girlfriend in tears, tries his best to show her how much he loves her.

Warnings: mentions of an abusive relationship, swearing, suggestive smut

I suck at summaries sorry!

Hope you like it, thanks for requesting ❤

One would think that coming out of an abusive relationship would make you feel relieved, like you just freed yourself from a prison, but unfortunately it's not that easy to get yourself back. An abusive relationship it's a relationship of taking. They take control over you but they also take away your power, your independente, your courage. Yourself. And it leaves you with nothing, feeling nothing but emptiness and constant fear and uselessness. Powerlessness.

It's been nearly a year and a half since I freed myself from that prison, and even though I showed signs of a quick recovery, I couldn't say I was ok. Fine. Recovered. At all. I was just good at hiding the pain and the fear everytime my phone rang, afraid it would be him still trying to contact me. Every time someone innocently touched me, reminding me of his touch. Every time someone called my name, afraid I had done something wrong and I'm gonna get punished for that, like he used to do.

It takes a strong tool on you, enabling you from enjoying things fully and making you act extra cautious around people or certain situations instead. It's exhausting, and I know that if I keep on pushing away these feelings I can expect a breakdown soon. Because, like I said, I'm good at pretending I'm fine, so good that nobody in the cast knows about it, so good that I allowed myself to fall for Drew, who somehow made me feel safe enough to accept being his girlfriend. It surprised me, not only because of how I always felt so comfortable around him (which was rare for me to do so with anyone) but how close I allowed myself to be with him. He had a special energy that just pulled me in and almost made me feel like my old self. The one who wasn’t afraid. I would find myself telling him things I never told anyone (never about my past relationship, of course) and he would ask me about things no one ever bothered to know. Drew was like my comfort zone and I was so glad he was the one to bring me out of my shell without ever forcing me to do it or making me uncomfortable. I never thought I would be able to go back to trust someone like I trust Drew, and I made sure to show him how grateful I was for being with him (and he would do the same, but for different reasons). I trusted him so much that, one day, when we were chilling on the dock under the sun, waiting for someone to call us to shoot our scene, I almost mentioned him. And the abuse. We were talking about scars and how some of them had a funny story behind it. He pointed to the one on my shoulder and asked me about it, and I was so busy calming down my laughter from earlier that I almost let it slip where it came from. Who gave it to me. And when I realized the huge mistake I was about to commit, I shutted my mouth immediately, which made Drew confused with my sudden change of behavior. He kept on asking about it and asking me what was wrong, and I did nothing more than deny and tell him everything was fine and that he shouldn’t worry. Obviously that led to a small, tiny fight where I think he realized there was something major I wasn’t telling him and I know he was scared I didn’t trust him enough to tell him. From then on, he was always extra cautious when “dealing with me” and certain actions or attitudes gave away that he was trying to show me that I could and should trust him. But as if the universe turned against me, that week was being awful. My ex decided to start bothering me again by constantly texting me not so nice things. Nobody loves you. You're worthless and you're going to die alone. You made a mistake leaving me. All of which was making it hard to accomplish my purpose of not only forgetting the past but also keeping myself together and pretending any of that was happening as I tried to focus on the show. What triggered my expected breakdown one morning was a specific text though. He doesn't love you, you bitch. That was the last drop, it was all it took for me sit in my bed holding my chest, as if keeping my heart from jumping out of my chest, tears falling after being avoided for so long. The panic attack made me ignore the question of how the hell did he know Drew and I were dating. It's not that we were dating in secret or anything, but we hadn't publicly announced our relationship. Besides the ship comments and posts, there wasn't anything else that suggested we were dating, so I had no idea how he could know, because I doubted he paid attention to what fans of the show were posting. Or maybe he was crazier than I thought. 

Too focused on trying to control my breathing, I didn’t notice Drew come back from the bathroom so he unintentionally startled me when he sat down facing me on the bed. 

“Hey, hey, babe, what’s wrong?”

Drew held my hand and rested his other on my shaking shoulder. I’ve never seen him so scared, but he also had never seen me like that. The last time I had a panic attack was not long after I (finally and hardly) broke up with my ex, and even when Drew and I were just friends I never let him (or anyone else really) witness myself panicking. 

After five minutes that took too long to pass, Drew was holding me and caressing my hair, my sniffles being the only sound in the room. My hands were still shaking a little as I grabbed onto Drew's shoulders.

"What's going on? You scared the shit out of me." Drew said, not letting go of the embrace. 

I wanted to tell him. This panic attack made me realize that maybe I needed to let this go one way or another, and if I trusted Drew as much as I made myself believe, than I should have no problem talking to him. About anything. But the scaredy girl inside of me was stubborn.

"I don't want you to judge me or think I'm stupid. I should be over this already."

Drew moved his head to look at me, his eyes held confusion to my random vent. 

"Be over what?" he held my cheek in his hand delicately, "And why would I judge you or think you're stupid? You know I would never do that to you. I just wanna help you." 

I took a deep breath, as if preparing myself to look him back in the eyes and tell him everything. He has been amazing lately (and throughout the short time we’ve been dating really) and I feel like I owe him something back. That had been on my mind for a while, thinking if I really want to relieve everything and show someone else a side of me I’ve been trying to bury, but at the same time I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep pushing the trauma to the back of my mind for much longer until I broke down for real. Maybe it just happened. And also, if I really needed to vent to someone, there was no one else I would do it to if not Drew. He deserved to know that I trusted him, because I really did, and I needed to prove to myself that I could also trust myself again. Past is past. It might knock on your door but it’s your choice to let it in or not, and I was tired of looking through the peephole the entire time. 

“I… I trust you, Drew, I know sometimes it doesn’t seem like it but I do.” I finally locked my gaze with his and I could tell he was trying to understand where I was going with my speech. He nodded his head as if telling me to go on, that he was listening, “Something happened in the past that made me… develop some trust issues, I guess you could say. I’m just scared of relieving it by talking about it.” my voice trembled in the last sentence. Drew caressed my cheek with his thumb, now growing curious but also worried. 

“How about this,” he said, after noticing I was having trouble finding the words to speak, “let’s get ready for the day, then we’ll go on a nice walk, find a nice spot to stay? In the meantime you can organize your thoughts and try to relax. And I’ll be right there if you need me, ok?”

I almost started crying again. I felt a pang of guilt in my chest for taking this man for granted and not appreciating him enough. At least I felt like I wasn’t appreciating him enough. 

“Ok. Let’s do that.”

I got ready, opting for comfy clothes and letting my hair down, the fact that it looked good that day made me feel a bit better about everything. 

Stepping outside, Drew held my hand and brought it up to his lips, kissing my knuckles. I smiled genuinely, thankful for having him next to me. I never thought I would meet someone so kind and gentle but at the same time fun and exciting, let alone having said person liking me back, asking me out on a date and making me feel like the most lovable girl in the world. 

We walked for a while in silence, me doing as Drew said earlier, organizing my thoughts and telling myself I would be alright, that I had my boyfriend by my side. Telling myself Drew wasn’t like my ex. He would keep me safe, and even though it was easier said than done, I really had nothing to worry about. 

“Remember when we were talking about our scars and you asked me about this one?”, I pointed to my shoulder. We were now sitting on an old dock where pretty much no one passed by, so we had the spot for ourselves. I was sitting with my legs crossed, facing the ocean, while Drew sat right beside me, facing me.

“Yeah.” it sounded more like a question, one to which the answer made him apprehensive. 

“It was my ex. The same one who has been texting me all week and the reason I broke down earlier.”

I stole a quick glance at him and I couldn’t really read the expression on his face. Sadness, confusion, a bit of anger. I reached for his hand and, with what felt like the thousandth deep breath I took just that morning, I spilled everything. I told him how it started, how it ended, how it made me feel in the process and how that translated to my daily life after the relationship. I told him about all my fears, insecurities and issues and he listened to each of them, making sure I was aware of his comforting presence. By the end of what I thought was enough of relieving those haunting memories, I had tears threatening to fall and my grip on Drew’s hand was tighter than I intended, but he didn't seem to mind.

“I’m so sorry you went through that.” he said after a short period of silence, “Who else knows about this? Did you press charges against him? Did you seek psychological help?”

I shook my head.

“No one knows.”

“(Y/N)...”

“I know, Drew, I know I should’ve told someone and I should’ve pressed charges, but at the time I didn’t have the energy for that.” he nodded in understanding, “I just wanted to run away from him and forget all about it.”

“You’re a strong badass, you know that?”

I laughed at his response and leaned against his body, being met with his arms around me in a tight hug.

“I love you.”

I surprised myself with my own words but I tried not to let it show, because I could tell Drew was surprised by it too. For a moment, with the lack of response, I started regretting saying anything in the first place. I finally opened myself up and got fucked already, I thought. But a pair of lips on my forehead instantly made me relax. 

“I love you too.” he said, his lips still against my forehead, “So much.” 

We stayed on the dock for an hour before we realized we should go back to our trailers to start preparing for shooting. 

As night time approached, Drew and I went to his trailer to wait for our cast mates to finish their scenes so we could all go out for dinner, as agreed earlier. I was removing the rest of my light makeup and I could feel Drew’s eyes on me through the mirror, and I tried to hold back a smile. He looked so cute, and I also wasn’t a fan of having people staring at me for whatever reason. Kind of a weird trait seeing that I’m an actress, but I think you get it. 

“What?” I finally asked, throwing away the makeup wipes and turning to face him.

“You’re cute.” he answered, wearing that shy smile that always appears when he’s put on the spot. 

“Right back at you.” we both laughed.

He extended his arm from where he sat on the small couch for me to grab his hand, and when I did, he pulled me gently towards him, making me sit on his lap, straddling him. 

“How much time do you think we have?” his voice was now muffled from being glued to the skin of my collarbone. 

“Why?”, there was a hint of amusement in my voice, acting clueless to the meaning behind his question. 

“You really gonna make me say it?”

“Yes, I don’t know why you’re asking.”

“Yeah you do, stop being mean.” 

I laughed at his childish manners and grabbed his face with both of my hands to make him look at me. I was going to make another teasing remark but quickly got lost in his eyes. I loved that boy so much, it hurted how much I wanted to show him that. 

“Thank you for everything. Now just today, but everyday we’ve been together. I don’t know how I would’ve held myself together if you weren’t there for me, even not knowing the reason behind it.”

“You don’t need to thank me, silly, I’m just doing my job. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I wasn’t there for you in every situation?” 

He noticed the tears forming in my eyes and covered my hands with his, caressing them. God I would be dehydrated by the end of the day for how much I cried already.

“Hey, no crying, come on, this was supposed to be a sexy moment.” it made me laugh, dismissing the single drop that rolled down my cheek. 

“You’re impossible.”

“No, I’m in love with you.”

I playfully punched his shoulder and hugged him tight, resting my head on his shoulder. 

“I love you too.”

After a few minutes of just enjoying each other's tight embrace, Drew broke the comfortable silence. 

“Ok, enough of this, can I kiss you already?”

I laughed again before finally kissing the guy. He leaned back on the couch as the kiss progressed, his hands roaming through my body. His tidy hairstyle was now a mess, the result of my fingers running through it. The hands that were on my tights went up to my waist, under my shirt, that was slowly removed and found a spot on the floor somewhere, me being too focused on removing Drew’s shirt too to bother keeping track of our clothes. He laid me down on the couch after getting rid of my bra, his kisses dropping to my jaw and neck. 

“Do we really have time for this?” I asked, my voice ridiculously weak due to the effect his lips on my skin were having on me. 

“I think so.” his answer took a while to come out of his mouth that was now in my chest. 

But the truth was that neither of us cared about it, because after the remaining of our clothing items met the others on the floor, there wasn’t anything else I cared about if not Drew. 

“Hey, you two, you done?”

Chase’s voice outside the trailer, and the banging on the door, made us rush to put out clothes back on. 

“What?” Drew asked, trying to play it cool and act like we didn’t just have sex on the couch of his trailer. 

“Just hurry!” JD complained. 

“Guess we didn’t have much time after all.” Drew mumbled, making me laugh and punch his shoulder again. 

We stepped outside, being greeted by four boys and two girls staring at us with amusement in their faces.

“You guys had fun in there?” Madison asked. I felt my face heat up and looked at Drew, who was as embarrassed as I was. 

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” ah yes, Drew, the classic and totally believable comeback. 

“Sure thing, dude.” Austin said, making a sign with his hand for all of us to start walking and head to the restaurant Madelyn had suggested we go to. 

“You know the walls of the trailers are, like, made of paper.” Rudy stood in between Drew and I. 

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.” Drew insisted, growing even more embarrassed. 

“Don’t act like I didn’t hear you. We all did actually.” 

And with that, we just had to accept the fact we would be teased all night. 

[spencersawkward]

i’m so happy ur on tumblr now!! i love between the lines so much, could you write a blurb or one shot about mgg and a younger co-star, but like very spicy if possible 🙃, idk i just love that scenario🥵.

i was literally about to write "omg i love this concept too!" and then i was like “well no fucking shit, sophi.” lol. YES i can 10/10 write you a one-shot with a similar scenario! also thank you for your kind words that was the first fic i ever wrote so it’s very near and dear to my heart!

summary: reader goes to a holiday party with her co-stars and best friend, Matthew... but all the fun happens in the dressing room.

content warnings: this one is quite dirty but i’m also proud of it lol. unprotected penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), degradation, use of the term “little girl,” creampie, age gap. dirty talk?

pairing: Fem!Reader/Matthew

word count: 4.7k

masterlist

"no."

"what do you mean, 'no’?” Matthew laughs, looking between me and the mirror.

"I look like the Ghost of Christmas Past." I lift up the soft white tulle of the dress, watching it float back down to settle over my skin. he's got his eyebrows raised and there's a smirk on his lips like he's holding back a laugh. I resist the urge to reach around and hit him.

"would you rather wear that?" he points to the punch-stained gown that's now laying pathetically over the back of the vanity chair. I genuinely ponder the idea for a moment.

"honestly, the crime scene vibes might work well with the theme of our show."

"seriously, it's not bad, Y/N!" he insists, drawing my attention back to the mirror.

"you're just saying that because you're the one who spilled on me and you don't want people making fun of how clumsy you are." I cross my arms over my chest. he gives me a dubious expression in our reflection on the wall.

"do I seem like I care about that?" he challenges.

"I--" the truth is that no, Matthew is not the type. Matthew is the kind of person to flounder in front of anyone and proceed to crack a joke about himself. he's humble. but I kind of like when we talk like this, our back and forth.

after a year of working together on the same show, he and I have grown incredibly close. I'm friends with all my co-stars, but he and I just have the natural friendship chemistry that makes me want to spend all my time with him. when we're not on set, we're hanging out on his couch or ordering dinner or driving out of town to check out wacky sites around California. we just have fun. pure, clean, honest fun.

of course, in my dreams it isn't pure or honest. frankly, there's a lot of sordid scandal to what goes on in my head when he accidentally touches my arm or brushes his fingers over mine. the amount of times I have gone to cast parties trying to work up the nerve to kiss him are embarrassing. he's older and more experienced and, obviously, he has no interest in me.

but that doesn't matter.

the only reason I'm standing in a dressing room alone with him is because he knew someone on the crew who could hook me up with a replacement for the night. he left while I slipped out of the old one and came back in only after knocking and checking, like, twice to make sure I was decent. he's so respectful that it's almost like he's afraid of making me think the wrong thing-- which makes me feel absolutely stupid for my almost schoolgirl crush.

"come on, you look great. let's go enjoy the party."

"was this a dress one of the victims was wearing?" I ask with a laugh.

"probably. not like we carry a lot of gowns on set." he grabs my hand, makes my heart leap into my throat. he only does it to urge me along, but it still feels intimate as I follow him out of the room, tossing one more evaluative glance at myself in the mirror. I seem terrified.

we continue to do our rounds at the party, Matthew filling my glass of eggnog even though I hate it. I wince and take a sip while we talk to some of our co-stars.

"what's wrong with you?" Shemar chuckles at my expression.

"lost a bet."

"with whom?" he glances between Matthew and me, knowing damn well already from the mischievous grin on the former's face.

"I told you not to take it." Matthew says over the rim of his glass.

"if you mention it one more time, I'm gonna throw up eggnog all over your outfit." I threaten him, but we're both smiling. Shemar frowns.

"what was the bet?"

"you know David-- the guy I was telling you about?" I reply quickly, determined to give my side of the story. Shemar nods; I told him last week when David oh-so-chivalrously danced up on me at a club and asked me out. usually in those situations, guys just want a one-night stand, so I was impressed and agreed. "anyway, Matthew said if it turned out that he was a weirdo, he would get to pick my drinks for the next week whenever we go out."

"your drinks? that's specific."

"she's so picky!" Matthew teases me.

"leave me alone, you dick!" I elbow him and he dodges just in time.

"tell him why he was a weirdo." he grins. the glare I give could kill. but Shemar is waiting expectantly for me to share the information, so I sigh and set my jaw before telling the truth.

"he collects antique dental tools."

"what?" Shemar laughs disbelievingly. I throw my hands up.

"I don't fucking know. we went back to his apartment and he showed me his whole collection."

"you're attracted to weird people, Y/N." Matthew says. I raise my eyebrows and almost say something that dooms me. I hold my tongue, however, and turn back to Shemar with a reserved smile.

"anyway, how are you?"

...

the cast holiday party is actually pretty fun. I tend to leave these functions early in favor of my couch and some ice cream, but something about the bright colors and the smell of wintergreen in the air makes me want to linger in the studio.

I stuff myself with sugar cookies and Matthew mercifully lets me switch from eggnog to Sprite. normally, I'd drink at such an occasion, but I'm a messy drunk and this is one of my first real jobs as an actress. I don't want to even come close to jeopardizing that by breaking some expensive equipment or something.

my throat gets a little sore from all the talking I do-- Paget and I spend about half an hour horribly belting out Christmas carols at the baby grand piano they brought in. they originally had someone hired to play it, but the guy disappeared about an hour ago.

by the time it hits around ten pm, my limbs are tired. I thought people would be leaving (a lot of them have families), but the party is still very much raging when I start to wind down. maybe it's because I'm sober.

"hey." Matthew sidles up next to me as I sit at the piano bench with a slice of lime in my mouth. I like to suck the juice out of them; sour things are my favorite.

"hi." I pluck the fruit out and drop it back into my soda. he sits next to me, his cologne filling my senses with the kind of sensual warmth that it shouldn't be making me feel. he always smells so good.

"ladylike." he gestures to the movement.

"is that why you call me 'princess?'" I smirk, half-joking.

"once-- I called you that once!" he defends. it's not a lie. he used the nickname when he was mocking me for my somewhat selective food preferences. it was sarcastic, but I wish it wasn't. something about the way he said it in the moment made me blush.

"is there a reason you've come to grate my nerves?" I raise an eyebrow and he turns away from me as he bites back a smile. I pout. "what?"

"you're talking like a Jane Austen novel."

"what's wrong with Jane Austen?" I defend, skin heating up. his proximity is doing things to me that it shouldn't.

"nothing," he glances at me before moving his gaze to the ivory keys. "do you play?"

"elementary level, sure." I giggle. he runs his fingers over them, never pressing down hard enough to release a sound. I'm entranced by the delicate nature of his actions, the veins and the curve of his fingertips, the sheer width of his hand. I think about it too much for it to be healthy.

"show me." it's a direct order, one that doesn't feel directive but still ends with me placing both hands on the piano and wracking my brain for something to play. I decide on a piece that Paget and I were doing earlier, "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."

I've never been quite good at piano, and the nearness of his body is like an anvil on my fingers, but I play anyway. and it feels good. his eyes are on me, drawn to my tracings over the instrument as they press and lift and glide.

"sing." I tell him.

"no!" he protests. I don't stop playing, only now getting into the thick of the tune.

"oh, come on. just the chorus..." I plead, turning my head to beg. "please?"

I bat my lashes playfully, fully intending it as a joke, but Matthew softens a bit. for a fraction of a second, I think he looks at my mouth. he turns his head back to the piano and lets out a quiet "here we are as in olden days... happy golden days of yore..."

"there you go!" I egg him on, and he starts to get more into it. his voice is absolutely off-key; he's no singer, and somehow that makes him even more endearing to me.

Matthew has always been this flawless, intimidating figure in my mind. even when we first met, I was certain that he was hiding something because everything else about him is so... perfect. he's funny, sweet, genuinely kind, handsomer than hell. it didn't make sense. but knowing that he can't carry a tune makes me feel a bit better. it humanizes his beauty.

while he sings, I can't help looking at him. his side profile is even more enchanting; the curve of his features meeting a smooth elegance in his jaw and cheek, especially when his mouth is open. he catches me smiling at him and returns it with his own gleeful face, now totally fine with singing like a fool in front of everyone. nobody is even really looking at us-- they're several drinks in and lost in their own universe of drunken laughter.

there's something kind of magical about that, I think. we're sober. when the song draws to a close, I lift my fingers off the keys and into my lap.

"you're quite the Pavarotti." I joke.

"the who?" he furrows his brow with a smile.

"he's a famous opera singer."

"oh," he laughs, "thanks, Mozart."

I twist my face up as I hide my smile. this is also part of the reason I could never tell Matthew how I feel; we just fit together too well. he almost always gets my references and I understand his, even though there's an age gap between us. he's an old soul with a youthful heart.

"how's your night going?" I ask him softly, changing the subject. he sets his hands on his lap, absent-mindedly toying with his fingers. it's not a nervous tendency at all. he does it whenever we're on set.

"as of right now? pretty damn good." he replies with a smile. I get warm again at the implication. he doesn't mean it like that, but god, do I wish he did.

"very smooth." I compliment appreciatively.

"how about you?"

"it was kind of boring, but then this rando sat next to me and started singing Christmas songs and it got a little better." I say flatly, grabbing my glass off the top of the piano and running my fingertip over the rim. he drops his head in a giggle.

"you're something else."

"insult?" I clarify.

"definitely a compliment."

"I like compliments."

"well, I wasn't lying before. you look really beautiful in that dress."

"the murder dress?" I glance down at it to hide the absolute wideness of my eyes at his words. he's completely flustering me and I'm starting to find it hard to breathe. he said I look beautiful. not "pretty," not "great"-- beautiful.

"yes, the murder dress." he gets a little pink in his cheeks, and that makes me want to explode on the spot.

"well, say goodbye to it because I'm gonna go change back into my plebeian clothes," I stand from the piano bench. "it's past my bedtime."

Matthew looks up at me with an unreadable expression and I feel my heart flutter in my chest. I hate leaving him. "do you wanna come with me? like-- walk with me?"

"sure." he nods, stands, and follows behind. I can feel his presence like a delightful reminder of the emotions surging in my stomach. we wind through the crowd of party-goers until we end up back in the dressing room, away from the party. it's quiet.

Matthew walks in with me, carrying our drinks in his hand, and he's about to stroll back out so I can change when I touch his arm. the door shuts automatically behind him.

"wait," I swallow quickly. "can you unzip me?"

"oh." Matthew looks at me, then at the glasses in his arms, then at the vanity. he sets them down and comes back quickly, his frame behind me while his fingertips locate the little piece at the top of my gown. my breath hitches in my throat when he brushes over my spine by accident, one nail dragging accidentally against my skin as the fabric slowly gives way. I don't know if he hears it-- it's nearly imperceptible-- but he definitely hesitates once he reaches the place where my back starts to curve into my ass. he pauses, doesn't breathe until he reaches the end of the zipper.

"there you go." he mutters. his voice is a little more hoarse than usual, and he clears his throat as he steps away. I know he's going to back out. he's going to back out of the room and wait for me to slip into nothing and I know, somehow, that he's going to be thinking about how I look in here with my clothes off. he's going to wish he stayed.

and I'm going to wish he'd done more than stayed.

before I can lose my nerve and allow the moment to be swallowed up by practicality, I shrug the straps of the dress down my shoulders and let gravity take over. it drops to the floor, leaving me in only my bra and panties. I can sense him behind me; he's silent for a moment.

"Matthew." I say, the name sitting on my tongue like a sugar cube. perfectly formed, slowly dissolving.

"y-yeah?" he stutters for the first time since I've met him.

"are you looking at my ass right now?" I ask, still turned around. the way he's frozen in place tells me that I'm right.

"yeah." he admits.

"you can touch it, if you want." I murmur softly. part of me doesn't think this is real, the way each sentence leaves my throat like it's been pre-planned. truly, I don't understand how my brain is moving so quickly.

"are you... sure?" he's hesitant, but even I can taste the longing.

"yes."

his hand smooths over my butt, softly at first like he's still not believing his own eyes, before moving back to grab it. he squeezes the flesh, and a low exhale from him tells me that he's excited.

"do you want more?" my voice barely carries. my head is almost foggy from how good it is to have his grip on my body, even in such a simple way. I can feel myself getting wet.

"how much more?" his lips brush over my shoulder and I get goosebumps. my mouth opens and closes for a moment, searching for the right words.

"however much you want."

it's flint and steel, the way he sparks. the air literally leaves my lungs when Matthew grabs my hips and spins me around to face him. my lips part as I peer up at him, at the lust that now darkens those hazel eyes and the way he holds mine. his touch is certain. he pulls our bodies together, tilts my chin up to kiss me.

it's passionate, strong, the kind of kiss that causes me to lean back a bit just to receive the full force of his desire. but I return the affection easily, moaning into his mouth. I've never been held the way that Matthew holds me. like I'm made of sugar glass, like he wants desperately to feel the soft give of my skin and make a home of me.

the heat between our bodies is almost overwhelming, and I sigh when he subtly pushes our hips together. his erection is against my stomach.

"fuck." I mutter when I pull away for air. Matthew doesn't stop his perfect movements, though, tugging my earlobe between his teeth and starting to leave love bites up my skin and over my shoulder. he chuckles against my throat. I shiver.

"you alright, little girl?" he asks.

"just--" I let out a moan at the sensation of his fingers exploring my bare waist. he reaches behind me to unclasp my bra. "just surprised."

"about?" he slides the straps down my shoulders and looks me in the eye. the lack of physical contact makes me whine.

"that you want me."

"how is that surprising?" he smiles, using one index finger to guide me to look at him.

"you don't seem like it."

Matthew raises his eyebrows as if I'm a crazy person. truly dumbstruck. "what?"

"you-- well, I don't know." I frown, but Matthew takes my hand and moves it over his torso until my palm is resting over the considerable bulge in his pants.

"is this enough proof?"

I struggle for words, sputtering. "yeah-- yeah, it is."

he bucks into my hand a little and I bite my lip, eyes moving up to meet his. something passes between us that I don't fully understand, but feel in my bones. I have never, in my life, wanted someone to fuck me as much as I want Matthew to fuck me right now. my jaw clenches.

"I need you." I tell him like this is the most relevant piece of information that will ever pass between us. he smirks.

"yeah?"

"mhmm."

"then lean against the wall and let me give you what you deserve." he orders. for a second, I try to think through what he means. then I look behind me at the open space and back up, him following me closely. his hands move up to cup my breasts, kneading and tweaking my nipples as he kisses my lips. the coolness against my back causes me to gasp, and he swallows the sound with his tongue before moving down my body.

he's torturously slow, taking one of my nipples into his mouth while he shrugs off his suit jacket. he switches to my other peak, one hand splayed over my stomach, and then proceeds southward with his lips. his kisses are delicate, open-mouthed, as they find their way to the waistband of my panties.

he hooks his fingers in them and looks up at me.

"can I eat you out, baby?" he asks. I bite my lip.

"please." like a beg.

"oh, you're polite tonight." he smirks, tugging the garment down my legs and discarding it somewhere in the room. I don't respond, and he doesn't seem to need me to, because he pushes one leg up for better access to my pussy. "let's see if it lasts."

my back curves off of the wall involuntarily when he holds the flat of his tongue against my clit suddenly, trying to roll my hips against his face. my fingers tangle in his hair, one leg resting over his shoulder.

he starts to flick at my clit. I lose grasp of my own language.

"Matthew, that feels so good, I--"

he attaches himself to my bundle of nerves, seemingly turned on by the sounds I'm making for him. he groans as he laps at the wetness between my legs, dipping into my folds and sucking the soul out of me. I whine and use his curls as leverage to gain more friction. he peers up at me.

"needy little girl." he mumbles against my pussy. I shove him back into me.

"make me cum, then." I beg. I can practically feel the devilish smirk on his face as he devours me like he'll never get enough. every twist and lick of his tongue is sending me to new places. I'm panting, chest heaving, while I grab my own tits and buck into his mouth.

he moans. my orgasm hits me like a wave, causing me to nearly thrash with pleasure as I cry out.

"Matthew, keep going, fuck yes!" I feel tears prick the back of my eyes, the culmination almost too much to bear as we hold contact. he stares into my fucking soul as he eats me out, and I want to stay like this forever. it's hard to support myself with my legs going weak, but I love it. the sensations are otherworldly. it's only when I'm about to collapse that I push his face away from me.

"I love your pussy." he tells me, licking his lips as he sets my legs down. I grin and let my head fall back against the wall.

"thanks."

"come here, princess." he takes hold of my hips and guides me over to the mirror, turning me so that he's standing behind my frame. the pet name causes me to smile.

"what?" I reference our reflection. he stares at me, reaching around to squeeze my tits.

"I wanna fuck you in the mirror." such a vulgar thing, said so beautifully. he kisses my cheek. "if that's okay with you."

"I don't care what position we do as long as you're fucking me." I breathe honestly. he chuckles and draws me towards him so his clothed boner is against my ass. I reach behind and work the button on his pants. he undoes the ones on his shirt. we're silent, him watching my naked body move like he's trying to memorize every detail.

when he's finally stripped, he lets me stroke his cock for a couple moments before pushing my upper back forward so I'm holding onto the sides of the mirror. I see him biting his lip as he lines himself up at my entrance.

"you ready?" he checks. I nod and he smiles at me once. pushing in, the smile melts into a jaw-dropped haze, eyes rolling into the back of his head. "Y/N..."

"it's so big." I try to breathe. he's so deep, I grip the mirror until my knuckles turn white. he's going to snap my body in two with the angle of his cock, filling me easily.

"tight little thing." he grunts as he holds himself inside. I can only watch in shock as I try to adjust to the sheer feeling of him. Matthew runs his hands over my sides, my ass, touching whatever he can. "how's that?"

I start to wiggle my hips and he groans at the feeling of my walls desperately swallowing him up. "Matthew, I need it."

"need what?" he thrusts into me and I have to fight a scream.

"need you."

"fuck... yes." he hisses out, sliding into me. "you're so wet I don't even need to try."

I bite my lip to withhold my sounds and he stares me in the eyes in the mirror as he starts to fuck me harder, building a pace with his hips. he growls a little if he hits certain angles, getting ruthless.

"so many times when I wanted to be inside you, princess..." he trails off. I start to play with my clit with one hand, using the other to stabilize myself with the mirror. the idea turns me on.

"when?"

"whenever you have attitude," he pants. "tonight, in that innocent fucking dress. making me wanna pound you like a little slut."

I make a high-pitched sound at the shudder of pleasure that jolts through my stomach at his words, wanting more. I've never heard him talk this way before.

"Matthew, shit--" I rub myself in circles, caught between watching his face and watching the way his hips slam into mine.

"you're begging to be fucked, you know that?"

"am I?" I smile sweetly in the mirror. we're in our own world, locked in a fantasy that I never want to leave. I can feel him in every corner of my body, sinking beneath my skin. he digs his nails into my ass.

"mhmm." he hums. I can feel the familiar weight in my stomach that indicates how close I'm getting. a knot that screams to be undone by his perfect length. I would do anything for more of this. I can taste everything good in the world on my tongue.

"I'm so close." I whine.

"I can tell," he studies my face in the mirror. "so pretty when you're breaking."

"oh--" I feel my thighs tense and my body pulses, the euphoria almost overwhelming. we move steadily, rhythmically, and he pushes my climax to new levels. "faster." I cry.

Matthew is quick to respond, gripping me closer while he plows into me like he's never going to have my body again. the sound of it is filthy, perfect, a mess. he groans at the sensation of my cunt pulsating around his cock.

"cum for me, princess." he moans, losing himself in the embrace of my core. the foggy stare in his eyes is like drowning in the ocean. I sink below, not caring at all about the consequences of him inside me. fuck working together; I need him. "where should I cum?"

"in me." I groan.

"beg." he commands easily, watching my face contort in pleasure. I could pretend to fight it, to give a little attitude, but I don't want to. I love begging for him.

"fill me up, Matthew. please." each word punctuated by the breathlessness of my voice. he gets even more ferocious with me, beating up my pussy until I'm sure he's going to leave me sore.

"right there, right there," he gasps, hitting the same spot that makes me go cross-eyed. "such a good little slut."

his cum shoots into me, deep and warm and erotically twisted, and I nearly collapse. it feels weird, but so good at the same time. full. he groans out my name and withdraws, quick to grab my shoulders and hold me up as I almost fall. I hadn't realized that most of my body weight was supported purely by his thrusts.

"whoa." he lets out a tired laugh, gentle in his touch. I'm heaving air into my lungs.

"sorry." I apologize, my body unstable.

"are you okay?" he seems genuinely concerned and I nod.

"yeah, I'm fine. just a little overwhelmed."

"here," he scoops me into his arms and brings me over to the old love seat in the dressing room, laying his jacket down before putting me on top of it. "can I get you something?"

"Sprite." I gesture to the glass on the vanity, and he smiles as he goes to get it. I gulp down whatever remains of it. "thanks."

"of course." he keeps glancing at my face and the red marks on my hips where he was clutching me like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."

"what?" I set the cup down. "don't ever be sorry for fucking me like that."

"no, I meant--" he laughs, but then he sees my playful expression and realizes that I'm genuinely alright. I think my legs were asleep.

"you're a saint." I tell him. he frowns and shakes his head bashfully. I'm already getting up and collecting my clothes. "or maybe what we just did prevents you from reaching sainthood. I don't know."

he places his hand on my lower back, kisses my forehead tenderly.

"seriously. you're okay?"

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him. "but I would be better with a milkshake."

Matthew breaks into a slow grin, staring at me like I've done something miraculous.

"how are you so perfect?"

[mirrorfalls]

Hi Mirror! I hope your week is starting off on a good note. I have a question for you: what's your favourite thing about Ran and/or Ran's interactions with the other characters? ~ Santa

Short long answer: This.

Long short answer: Beneath the cut.

So here's something I once dropped the esteemed - and infinitely-more talented - @scratchface in a DM, which is probably the closest anyone's ever come to making her respect Ran.

"Ran has enough parts in her for a good character. She probably has enough parts for three or four good characters. When a series, however banal, runs for a thousand installments, it can come up with those purely by accident."

This may sound backhanded to you and a lot of others, but it's genuinely, unironically why Ran appeals to me so much. Having grown up on AmeComi and Batman specifically, I'm used to stitching all my favorite characterizations out of dozens of different stories that at-best pay only lip service to each other's continuity and at-worst go out of their way to contradict and overwrite each other. What's really fun (and/or "fun") about Conan is that it somehow manages the same despite having only one author, one publication format, and one almost painfully-faithful adaptation.*

And Ran - especially early manga Ran - is the absolute pinnacle of this. Where Shinichi/Conan and Kogoro had their roles pounded out in cast-iron from the getgo, Ran's a Jack (Jill?) of All Trades who can play almost any other part the ensemble needs. Sympathizing civilian? She can "How awful!" with the best of 'em. Butt-kicking cavalry? Watch those fists fly. Distressed Damsel? She can give even that creaky old trope a level of agency I'd never thought possible - just witness Golden Apple, or the wharf showdown, or:

Better still, the fact that she has to be the plot-hook for roughly one-third of the filler cases gives her a correspondingly wide range of interests and hobbies, for those willing to squint at the margins. You know she's a black-belt; you probably know she goes "Rhosts, Rhaggy?!" at the slightest mention of the supernatural; but did you know her for a Three Kingdoms reader?

A gambling prodigy?

A Yoko Okino fan, just like her pop?

Scraps these may be - but it's usually from scraps that you get the richest fruit in any Transformative work. And so it goes with her presence on AO3: a shadow of Shinichi's or Kaito's in raw numbers, nevertheless capable of unparalleled tear-jerking and side-splitting from any author that puts in the work. Hell, I don't even mind the straight-up bashfics that turn her flighty or abusive; canon's planted enough seeds to make that sort of characterization juuust this side of plausible, and plenty entertaining besides.**

(Predictable self-plug: I've spent years working on a longfic to stitch all the above (and a dozen other traits!) into a single, coherent narrative tentatively titled Hey, What If We Didn't Lie To And Manipulate Our Female Lead For 1050+ Chapters?. There are authors who've pulled off similar projects for Shinichi, Kaito, and Shiho, but I think as far as Ran goes it's still fairly uncharted territory - and will probably remain so even if I finish it in 2030 or thereabouts.)

Of course, if I told you that my Purely Story-Minded Doylist Eye was the only thing at work, you'd call me a liar, and you'd be right. Ran's no less flexible in terms of lowdown wish-fulfillment, whether you want a straightforward action-girlfriend, an overbearing Onee-chan, a too-pure Ingenue/explanation magnet, or - my personal favorite - an old childhood buddy who can needle you in ways nobody else would ever have the nerve and the right to. She's got the range. She's got the style. One day, she might even get a story - a canon story - that deserves her again...

(Detractors, consciously or otherwise, usually point to the fact that Ran's irrelevant to most of the Big Organization Cases, and indeed is meant to remain irrelevant to them for as long as they keep happening. Just three or four years ago I might've shuffled my feet and mumbled an objection along the lines of "She has relevance, and she can get more!", but at this point I've long given up on any impression that the Big Organization Cases are meant to hold any weight at all. Far as I'm concerned they're just an extra-dull flavor of filler; the series' real heart is in the slice-of-life romcom fluff, and very possibly always has been.)

* "But what about the live-act-" What about the live-action?

** In controlled doses, anyway.

[iridescentlemoncandy]

Trajectory - Raising Hell [Osborn]

Part 2: 10 Years Ago, Midsummer

"He would eventually abandon me, too."

TW: Sexual Abuse, Death, Gun, Blood, Knife, Violence

It had been four years since I first moved in with Ye Chuan.

When a mother and son moved into the neighbourhood not too long ago, the rumours around me began to circulate again. They said I was an orphan and a monster that no one wanted. My parents supposedly gave up on me because I am so incredibly bad-behaved, as they put it.

I've always ignored the disdainful glances people have cast my way. They couldn’t hurt me. I realised that the ones at fault were not myself but rather the others. But I couldn't help but think about the rumourmongers right before bed. It made me think about the people they mentioned in those rumours. Over time, I began to feel angry at myself for even considering it.

Did I not just say that we would have nothing further to do with one other? How come I kept having dreams about them? Were those years of happiness with them the reason? If complete strangers heard my story, I figured they'd be furious and condemn them as unfit to be parents. Their departure was, in any case, greatly anticipated. It would be fitting if there were reports of their unfortunate demise one day. In no way could I afford to miss them.

For this reason, I would always feel an immense amount of self-loathing whenever I woke up from a dream involving them. I despised my own contradictory nature. Morally, I should despise them, so I couldn't tell anyone else. The more I isolated myself, the less I wanted to talk to anyone. I was on the lookout for a safe haven where I could either completely conceal myself or feel safe enough to reveal any and all details of my life. Sooner or later, I'll get out of here and find that place of freedom.

Hence, even after Ye Chuan repeatedly asked that I call him "dad," I proceeded always just to call him by his name.

I knew, deep down that he would abandon me soon after. I wasn't under any pressure to try extra hard to win his approval out of fear of being abandoned. But I know that he might not love me if I didn't act this way. Over and over, I assured him that if he ever had second thoughts, he could always get rid of me. Because I didn't want to come home to an empty house after school.

These four years, I had been counting down the days until that day finally came—until I was in junior high.

In regard to my education, I'd never let Ye Chuan have any say. He was quite conscientious, acting as a responsible parent figure. Even if I got myself into some serious problems, he wouldn't be there to bail me out. There had never been a feeling of freedom like it. And the more they told me to stop being such a wild monster, the more satisfied I became. It was as if I was no longer held hostage by this world.

When I sat on the school fence and took in the sky at twilight, I was able to let go of the remembrance of aimless wandering and the irrational desire for mutually assured destruction. I managed to get through it.

A piano tone suddenly came into my ears. It sounded rushed and discordant. Listening to it for too long will make you feel like you're being suffocated.

I had to get in there and see what was going on. It was the school’s music room. There was a tiny gap between the door and the frame, so I peered inside. Despite the passage of time, I could still vividly recall the scene. I could see an opened piano lid. The principal was sitting on the stool. There was a female student in school uniform in his arms.

The student's cries were muffled as the notes he played built to a crescendo. Suddenly, I recalled the boys’ discussion from this morning's class: "The Piano Room Game." Whenever they mentioned it, they would cover their mouths and laugh in a sleazy manner. Finally, I was starting to get it: this is what they meant by the piano room game.

All of a sudden, my throat felt constricted. With a feeling of nausea rising in my stomach, I hurried to the nearest sideway and almost threw up from disgust. I hadn't given Old Man Chen much thought lately, but I immediately recalled the night he became a corpse, where there was festering frostbite on his face. According to the two persons, Old Man Chen passed away before they were there. His body succumbed to the cold.

I dragged him to the hospital door by pulling on his empty sleeve as if I were pulling on two ropes. The distance, thankfully, wasn't too far. I couldn't help but turn around and take one more glance as I left. I noticed the two trailing footprints on the ground, leading to Old Man Chen's shoulder from his head as if he hadn't lost his arms. As I continued to look at it, I imagined them rising and clasping the principal's throat in a death grip. It was so constricting that it turned crimson and eventually collapsed.

When I told a teacher, he gave me a reassuring look and said that the whole thing was merely a mentorship. I stood there for a long time before realising that something was seriously wrong with this establishment. It was rotten to the core.

And they can rot all they want; I will never submit to such idiocy.

Later that evening, I made a choice. I emptied the chamber of Ye Chuan's homemade wooden rifle. It looked remarkably similar to the appearance of a real gun.

I scaled the fence surrounding the campus. With the gun in my hand, I picked up the pace. The sound of the waves striking the window made me feel increasingly rebellious. I will use my own flesh and blood to sever this tendon in its entirety, reversing the balance of power, exposing their corruption, and leading them to their demise.

“Don’t move!” I pointed the gun in his direction and gestured to the table, telling him to write down his offences.

To my surprise, he didn't put up much of a fight and just did what I asked, clearly convinced that my gun was real. The shock made him appear helpless, leading me to believe he was. Maybe he was simply having a moment of confusion and would come to his senses soon. As I reluctantly put the rifle down, blood spurted from the back of my hand. Behind the knife is a satisfied look, indicating that it was a deliberate act.

There was a cost to my compassion. When I was forced to the floor, I considered the situation amusing. Even though the other party's intention was clearly to kill me, I still thought about the possibility of forgiving them.

I was trampled so hard it hurt, but it awakened me more. Only one thing came to me when I thought about regrets. No, I refused to destroy myself. I will take up my spear once more and vanquish them.

Part: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]