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shadowkoo · 6 months ago

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Just Dance It Off

→ Summary: You're over the moon when you land the female lead in the end-of-semester show. It feels like your hard work has finally paid off, everything is going great. Well, until you learn who your partner is…

↠ jimin x f.reader | 9.5k words | 18+ ↠ genre: smut, angst, fluff, ballet dancers au, enemies to lovers, performing arts college au

→ Warnings: explicit and unprotected sex, jealousy, masturbation, alcohol consumption, underage drinking, use of fake ID, mild exhibitionism, creampie, hair pulling, angry sex, nipple play, degradation, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, multiple smut scenes, heavy teasing & banter, edging, orgasm denial, light choking

→ Author Note: This is a rewrite of an old 2019 fic of mine, so I hope you enjoy the newest version! If you’d like to read this on ao3 instead it’s been crossposted here! Also a biiiiiiig thank you so Sarah @caelesjjk for beta editing this for me. Go show her some love if you aren't already following her! As always, all likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated <3

“Oh, no,” you hear one of the dancers behind you whisper to another, “Look who’s walking in.”

Your curiosity gets the best of you as you casually stretch, your eyes betraying you by glancing over your shoulder toward the door, dying to see who they’re talking about. You recognize him almost immediately and the whispers continue to grow about the slender male who is walking across the room to set his stuff down.

Park Jimin.

Of course, he would be auditioning for this show. It’s his final semester, and you really should have seen this coming. Especially since you knew he was bound to get whatever position he was auditioning for. That’s a given.

Park Jimin always gets whatever he wants in life; whether that be a specific role in a performance, who his performance partners are both on the stage…and in the bedroom, that sort of thing. He’s the most pretentious person you’ve ever met, seeing as he acts like he is God’s gift to the dance world, and you’re already dreading any interaction you’ll have with him.

Rumor has it that his daddy, former dancer and sponsor, paid his way into Juilliard, but as much as you hate to admit it, he (unfortunately) happens to be very talented and you doubt the school didn’t already have something lined up for him, regardless of who his family is. Unlike you, who was on the waitlist for two months and had to take out a loan worth more than your life to attend this school.

Your eyes meet his and Jimin does a once-over before moving onto the people to your left. What a prick.

“Y/N!” a voice yells from the entryway. Your familiar, freckled, redheaded best friend is quickly prancing towards you.

“I’m so happy to see you here,” Catalina squeals before hugging you tightly. “What part are you auditioning for? Please tell me it’s lead. God, I miss you. It sucks that we don’t have any classes together this semester. How are you?”

You hug your petite friend back, “I miss you too! Please tell me that you’re not also auditioning for lead, I don’t want to be judged against you. Your pirouettes are perfect compared to my lousy ones.”

Her laugh echoes through the room. “Apparently you didn’t hear about my recent tumble,” she jokes, bumping her shoulder into yours. “I’ll gladly be in the background after my solo-gone-wrong.”

“Alright, everyone!” One of the male judges calls out, walking past the lineup of dancers to collect everyone’s entry form. “We’ll start with the routine you were required to memorize as a group, and then it will be individual evaluations after. Make sure your numbers are secured and let’s line up outside the door.”

After taking your place and getting into position with the rest of the packed room, you wait for the cue to begin. The routine is short and simple, and years of practice have made some of the required moves second nature.

Before you know it, the judges are escorting people out the door for the individual sessions.

You're about twentieth in line, right behind Cat. That makes you a bit nervous because, even though she’s not auditioning for the lead role, her impressive skills might land her a more prominent part than the one she’s aiming for.

Everyone else is quietly chatting in line while you do your best to relax, working through your routine in your mind. This is one of your pre-audition rituals. It always helps with easing your nerves.

By the time you finish running through a couple of full-outs in your head, you’re second in line. You wish Cat good luck as she’s ushered into the dance studio. Her five minutes go by almost too quickly, but she exits with a happy smile.

“Hey, good luck! Kill it, okay?”

You nod, quickly following after the woman who calls your name next.

“Miss Y/N, it says here that you’re auditioning for the female lead. As a sophomore?” Mr. Jenson, one of your dance professors and judge, questions. You prepared for this. It’s very uncommon for an underclassman to try out for such a prestigious role.

“Yes, sir. That’s correct.” You hold your head high.

“Well, I have to say I’m quite impressed with your confidence. Whenever you’re ready.”

You wait for the familiar beginning notes of Tchaikovsky’s Waltz Of The Flowers to play before flying effortlessly through your well-practiced routine. You’re banking on the emotional state of your dancing along with the technical moves you’ve included to impress the judges, and based on their faces when you finish, you figure you did just that. You can’t help but grin widely as you watch the four of them scribble furiously onto the sheets of paper. That’s a really good sign.

“I have to say, I was a little thrown off in the beginning by your song choice since it’s so, hmm, how do I say this, so amateur. But I was very surprised by what you chose to express and the level at which you dance,” the first judge says.

“Yes, the lines you created with your body were very exquisite,” another praises.

You nodded, taking in their advice and criticism.

“Thank you, Miss Y/N, you may exit.” Mr. Jenson says with a smile.

As soon as you step out the door and exhale, you feel a sense of relief. The excitement of your successful audition courses through you, filling you with good energy.

You find Cat stretching in the warm-up room next door.

“Oh my god, you got it. Didn’t you?” She squeals the second she sees your face.

“I don’t know…” You have a pretty good idea based on their responses and comments but aren’t positive.

“Oh, please,” she rolls her eyes, “That’s your ’I just nailed my audition’ face. You totally got it.”

“I hope so. God, wouldn’t that be so insane? When was the last time an underclassman got the lead?”

Someone behind you scoffs; you look over your shoulder and see that it’s Jimin. Your eyes narrow at him, but Cat turns you back before you go off on him. “Not worth it, the rest of us seniors think it’s great that you’re trying for a top spot. How about we go get a drink from the vending machine while we wait?”

You nod before grabbing your warm-up bag and follow her out. “I can’t believe him. He’s so stuck up,” You grumble once you’re far enough away that no one but Cat can hear you.

“He’s always like that, just be thankful that you don’t share any classes with him.”

You’ve heard that Jimin is usually the center of attention in class, whether it’s his choice or not, so you can’t imagine being stuck in one with him. It sounds like it would be impossible to get good feedback if the teachers only care about him.

After you both buy the drinks that you want, you head back. The line is smaller but it will still be at least a half-hour until everyone has had their turn. You sigh impatiently and head back into the warm-up room.

Deciding to sit along the mirrored wall, you rummage through your bag to find a pair of headphones and put your favorite playlist on shuffle while you wait. Even though it feels like half the day goes by while you’re sitting there waiting, it’s really only been about an hour.

Everyone’s attention lands on Madam Jamie, one of the contemporary dance professors, when she asks everyone to re-enter the audition room.

“Okay,” she starts once everyone gets in line, “Those whose numbers I am about to call, please step forward. Dancers eleven, one fifty-three, one forty-seven, seventeen, thirty-eight, twenty-two, and one ten.”

Cat gives you a concerned look as she steps forward without you.

“Seventy-two, fifteen, sixty-eight, thirty, thirty-four, eighty-two, one twenty-one–” you step forward and sigh in relief once she spoke your number. Tuning out the rest of the numbers called, you smile at Cat as she reaches for your hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze.

“Everyone else, I’m sorry to inform you that you have not been selected. Thank you for your time,” She finishes, resting her clipboard against her chest.

Those who didn’t make the cut are escorted out as Mr. Jenson stands up to make an announcement.

“I have everyone’s part listed here,” He shakes the paper in his hand. “It’ll be left on this table for you all to look over. However, I want to first congratulate you all. We are excited to have this much talent for the semester’s exhibition show. We have some great things planned and cannot wait to get started with you all. Please take note of our rehearsal schedule. Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Eight to noon. Most of you should not have conflicting schedules as all dance classes are held in the afternoon anyway, although if you do have a problem just stay after and we can work it out. Madam Jamie and I will see you back here Monday morning. Dismissed.”

You and Cat both wait until more people clear out of the room before you have the guts to read the paper.

Catalina Wilde - Corps de ballet

Your eyes wander across the page as you search for your name.

Y/N - Lead Female Soloist

Turning towards each other, you squeal “Oh my god,” at the same time.

“I can’t believe it. We both got what we wanted,” you excitedly rush out.

“I know, this never happens. Oh, I’m so excited!” She reaches for your hand and squeezes it again, picking up the paper with her other hand.

“Oh, no.” She turns the paper towards you, “Look who your partner is.”

Park Jimin - Lead Male Soloist

You huff, “Of course, I’m not surprised.” You turn your head and search the mostly-empty room for him. You have a feeling he’s still here, it’s like you can sense his presence.

“Cat! You coming?” the group of dancers near the door asks.

“Shoot, I’ve got to head to my next session. I’ll see you later, okay?” Cat says, giving you a quick hug as she runs out the door.

Leaving just you and Jimin.

Deciding to let go of your prejudice against Jimin, you figure the best move would be to congratulate him on getting the part he auditioned for.

He watches blankly from the mirrored wall as you walk towards him.

Once in front of him, you stick your hand out. “Hey congrats, I’m looking forward to–” you begin before he rudely cuts you off by holding up his hand.

“Yeah, whatever,” he sneers, “We need to take this extremely seriously so I expect you to be at our rehearsals an hour early so we can get in extra time,” he looks you over again, “From what I can tell you’re gonna need it.”

“Also,” apparently he isn’t finished, “I expect that you’ll be taking care of your diet from here on out since I’m going to be lifting you and I don’t want my arms to give out, or worse, snap.”

“Well, you can always go to the gym and work on that yourself,” you say defensively. What a jerk.

“So can you, sweetheart.”

“Uh, wow. Okay…” Here you are trying to congratulate him and here he is treating you like dirt. “Guess the rumors are true,” you mutter as you shift your duffel strap further up your shoulder, turning to leave.

“Excuse me?” Well, shit. He wasn’t supposed to hear that part. You look him in the eyes without showing any regret for your previous statement.

His eyes narrow at you, clearly not liking your RBF, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Sorry.” However, you aren’t.

“You know,” he remarks, “I don’t care about what you’ve heard about me or what you think about me. I care if you’re going to be too immature for this role and if that’s the case I’ll have no trouble replacing you.” He follows you out the audition room.

Oh boy, you’re pissed now. You turn around and get right in his face.

“What the fuck? In case you haven’t noticed, you aren’t in charge here. Just because you’re a senior and I’m a sophomore doesn’t make you any better than me,” you bark while shoving a finger in his chest.

“Secondly, I don’t need to believe the rumors because you’ve just proven them to be true. You’re an ass to all of your partners to the point that they don’t want to dance with you so you can,” you lift up your hands to finger quote this next part, “Pick who you think is good enough.”

You scoff, “Well, here’s a fun fact dickwad. I’m not going anywhere. The judges chose me and I fully intend on dancing as the female lead in the show. So get the fuck over yourself ‘cause you’re about to be seeing a lot of me in these next few months. Got it?“

"Fine,” he huffs, pushing past you.

“Fine!” you snap, turning away from him and heading towards your next class. Now that you're thoroughly annoyed and not in the mood for your next class, which happens to be a two-hour lecture on the history of interpretive dance, you sigh and get moving before you’re late.

The first two weeks of ‘rehearsals’ are spent training, just at a higher level than you’re used to. However, you hide it well. You’ve been making sure to keep up with the upperclassmen because you know that you are, unfortunately, replaceable if Madam Jamie or Mr. Jenson deems it necessary.

It doesn’t matter that your thighs feel like they are on fire, or that your calves might be ripping at every bend and arch you make. You’re going to complete the one hundred pliés just like everyone else without a single complaint.

Jimin must have taken your last conversation to heart, or he’s exceptionally good at masking his feelings if your words bothered him, because he’s been an excellent partner all week. Although, you know you aren’t going to grow a typical relationship with him as you did with all of the other partners you have had over the years. You’ve been friends, good friends, even, with your previous partners, something you know is never going to happen with Jimin.

He doesn’t do small talk. He really doesn’t have much to say at all other than pointing out when you are making a mistake. No good comments, nor praise–not that you’re expecting any–but it would have been nice to hear him say that he is impressed with how well you’re keeping up with him.

It’s Friday of the second week, which means that it’s the last day of the training period aka hell week, thankfully. You’re dying to get started on learning the actual program. You aren’t looking forward to Jimin’s request of showing up an hour earlier than everyone else this next week, but even though you hate to admit it, the extra time will end up benefiting you.

Today also happens to be the day the choreographer is coming in. You’ve heard the whispers throughout the school this week, everyone trying to guess who it’s going to be.

And after seeing who Madam Jamie walks into the studio with, you’re so happy to see that they were all wrong.

“O-oh my–ohmygod,” you bumble and did a double-take. It couldn’t be, could it?

The brown curls hung gorgeously on the tall man’s head and you internally drool at how much better looking he is in person. He’s so tan, so fit, so delicious–

“Can you concentrate?” Jimin grumbles in annoyance, pulling you out of your slightly inappropriate thoughts. You’re doing partner stretches, which does require some level of focus, but not enough that you have to look away from the literal Italian God who stood a mere six feet away. “What’s your deal anyway? We’re supposed to be preparing our muscles for the toughest training session yet and you’re over there stuttering like a fool.”

You scoff at him and lower your voice, “Don’t you know who that is?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Does it look like I care?” He mutters, pushing the backside of your thigh towards your torso.

“You can’t be serious,” you exasperate. “That’s Luca Black! You know, one of the most famous choreographers in the dance world right now. I can’t believe you don’t see how big of a deal this is.”

“The only thing I care about right now is making sure your hamstrings are loose so you don’t kick me in the face when we’re dancing.”

Now there’s an idea…

“Alright, everyone! Front and center please,” Mr. Jenson announces as he walks in the door, right on time as usual.

“Dancers, I would like you to meet Mr. Black, your choreographer. I expect you all to treat him with the same level of respect that you give me and Madam Jamie.”

“Oh please,” Mr. Black says, stepping forward, “You can all call me Luca.” His smile hits the heart of every girl in the class, and even a few of the guys. “I am looking forward to working with you all to make this performance one to remember. Can we get into a lineup to start?”

Everyone moves into the typical sequence based on each person’s position of where they belong. Which meant that you and Jimin were dead center with Luca’s eyes right on you.

You swallow slowly when he walks towards the two of you. “You must be Y/N. Mr. Jenson has told me quite a lot about you. I have to say, I am most excited to work with a dancer like you.”

Jimin is perplexed that Luca went straight to you. If anything, he’s the better dancer here and he doesn’t quite understand why a sophomore is getting so much attention. He’s nearly sick to his stomach listening to the nauseating conversation that you two are having.

“It’s an honor to have you working with us Mr. Black,” you say in awe as you shake his hand.

“Luca,” he corrects before lifting your hand to kiss it, “And the pleasure is most definitely all mine.”

“Sorry,” you pant, rushing through the door. “I know I’m a couple of minutes late. I couldn’t find parking. Why is it so freaking busy? It’s barely seven.”

“Don’t let it happen again,” Jimin says ignoring your question. You bite your tongue and get straight into your morning stretches.

“What do you want to work on today?” you ask, knowing what he is going to say after you’re warmed up. For the past three weeks, you and Jimin have been dedicating extra time to perfecting scene two's Pas De Deux.

It’s the only section of this scene where you’re both completely alone on stage and Jimin is dead-set on making it nothing less than perfect. He reasons that just because you are the only two people on stage doesn’t mean that the audience’s attention is a given, you need to earn it.

Which is a very on-brand thing for Jimin to say.

“Do you really need to ask?” He snickers with a playful smile plastered to his face.

“Nevermind then,” you banter back, joining him as he finishes stretching.

You’ve surprisingly gotten pretty comfortable with Jimin after spending more time with him. Dancing with him is mostly fun, besides when he calls you out on your mistakes…repeatedly. But even then, you know he tries to mean well. You both have to be the best or the other will end up looking like a fool–which (you assume) neither of you want to happen.

Knowing that you’re almost halfway through the semester is a little terrifying. All the dancers have been making great progress and everything is coming together seamlessly, but you can’t help but feel the nervousness set in.

You take a deep breath and clear your thoughts, getting nervous right now will do you no good. Thankfully, when you start dancing your mind settles and you’re able to concentrate on your performance.

Well, that is, until Jimin drops you during the lift. You might have understood the mistake if he hadn’t done it three times prior.

“Get up.” He holds his hand out for you, pulling you to your feet. “We need to get this number down, you know how important it is.”

“I’m aware of that,” you hiss. “But it would be nice if you weren’t letting me fall every two seconds.” You rub your aching side and stretch to see if that helps ease the pain.

“Just dance it off, you’ll be fine.” Jimin walks over to his stuff along the wall, before bending down to grab his water bottle.

You scowl. “Stop being ridiculous and hold me properly. I don’t have teeth anywhere down there,” you say motioning to the space between your legs. “You can put your hand where it belongs without worry, you know.”

Jimin blushes as soon as he hears your words, he turns away quickly before you notice. Yes, it’s technically his fault that you keep falling. It isn’t intentional, but he can’t help it. Especially when he can feel the warmth of your center from where his hand is resting when he goes in for the lift.

The thought of other parts of him being this close to your heat is driving him crazy and yeah, he may have faltered, which yeah, may have caused you to crash down once…twice. Okay, maybe three times. Or four?

It doesn’t matter. He’s so hyper-focused on why he’s thinking about you like this at all. You’re attractive, he already knew that. But this new-found thought of wanting to take you hard and fast, right here in the studio is something else. It comes from deep within, and he can’t decide if he wants to squash the idea completely or let it lead to something wild.

Jimin shakes his head, trying to get rid of those thoughts just long enough for you to both get through these next ten minutes before the rest of the crew arrives for rehearsal. “Alright, let’s go again.”

You get into position, Jimin falling behind you. You try to hold still but his breath tickles your neck while you wait for the music cue.

The motions are practically natural to you at this point, and you take a deep breath, preparing yourself in case you fall again.

You rapidly suck in air when you feel Jimin’s fingers press deep into your inner thigh this time as he lifts you. They are incredibly close, much closer than they were last time.

You won’t ever admit to it, but your mind is overflowing with dirty thoughts of Jimin’s fingers somewhere else. Particularly somewhere that would have you writhing within seconds.

Those thoughts are distracting, and you’re late for your cue to jump down. And somehow instead of jumping, your body twists around in a weird way as your head dives down toward the ground below you. Tensing, you brace for the impact that doesn’t come.

Unexpectedly, Jimin manages to catch you before any damage happens, and he quickly pulls you up, as if you were never upside down to begin with. His arms are wrapped right below your butt, causing your head to be directly above his. How on earth it got there, you have no idea.

But you aren’t questioning it. Adrenaline runs wild through your body, and you cling to him as if your life depends on it. Your arms are wrapped tightly around his neck, scared that you still might fall somehow.

Your faces are only a few inches apart in this position, which allows you to see how soft and smooth Jimin’s lips look. You slowly lick yours as he lowers you down to the ground, keeping the same amount of distance, or lack thereof, between you two. The realization that it would be so easy to kiss him right now has set in and you swear Jimin has the same mad thoughts; especially when he’s gripping your hips this tightly.

What you both don’t realize is that outside of the main doors, the rest of the dancers are watching with wide eyes and shocked faces. If it weren't for the unmistakable red hair you see in the mirror's reflection, who knows what might have happened? You don’t think about it, instead, you pull away and play it off before heading toward your bag to grab a drink.

“Morning everyone! What are we all waiting for?” Luca says from behind the dancers, “Let’s go in and get warmed up.”

He opens the door and sees you and Jimin at opposite ends of the room, each taking big gulps from your water bottles. Interesting…

Cat walks in and sets her stuff down next to Jimin’s and silently watches him. His face is flushed but she can’t tell if it was because of the intense moment you two just shared, or from the strain of the lifting sequence. She was the first to notice the look you two shared before the crowd outside the door, and she has a weird feeling about it.

Last she knew you were still fighting with Jimin during your pre-practices, although she’s very aware of the saying ’there’s a fine line between love and hate’. Cat makes a mental note to ask you about this morning’s situation later.

The first half of practice is weird, to say the least. Jimin is treating you like nothing happened. And while technically nothing happened, something almost did and you don’t know how you felt about the something.

Needless to say, you aren’t on top of your dance game today. It’s hard to concentrate with your head filled with empty-answered questions and even more confusion.

“Okay, everyone,” Luca echoes, stealing every dancer’s attention, “Let’s take five. When we reconvene we’ll do a recap of Scenes One through Three with no breaks. If we can get it down we’ll move onto the beginning of Scene Four today.”

You and Jimin happily turn in opposite directions, grateful for some space.

“Y/N, can you stay back? There’s something I want to go over with you,” Luca calls out, stopping you from heading in the direction of Cat and some of the other girls.

Oh no. That’s never a good sign.

“Don’t worry, you’re not doing anything wrong,” he says after seeing your smile falter. “I just see a little room for improvement with the last sequence before the song changes in scene three.”

He gestures for you to get into position in front of him, which you do without hesitation.

Luca moves closer to you and rests a hand on your lower back, “Tighten here and stretch.” He shows you how to position your body to make it look more elegant and elongated. “See how much longer you look now?” His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Hold yourself like this through the rest of the dance. Trust me when I say you’ll notice a difference. So will everyone else.”

A blush creeps up your neck when his hand slides across your hip before he steps away from you, “Thank you for the tip.”

His eyes burn into yours, and you feel the heat growing in your lower stomach. “Anytime, Y/N.” His lips turned into a small smile, which you returned.

Jimin stalks silently as Luca touches you, his anger bubbling deep down inside him. Fuck, he doesn’t exactly want you, but he definitely doesn’t want anyone else to have you either. And he sure as hell doesn’t want Luca touching you like that or giving you those looks; looks that have disguised intentions with ulterior motives behind them.

He wants to tell Luca where to go and how to get there, but he knows better. Not only would it be unprofessional as hell, but Jimin would probably be screwed out of a lot of future events if he tells one of the best choreographers to fuck off.

He forces himself to look away and takes another deep breath, calming down a little before part two of rehearsals starts.

The second half of rehearsals ends sooner than expected, and Jimin storms off before you even have the chance to talk to him about this morning. You sigh, your eyes trailing his fast exit.

“Y/N! I’m heading to the vending machine for a granola bar, want to come with me?” Cat asks. You’re sure that her question has a hidden agenda too, but you go along with it anyway since you’re starving and need to eat something small before your next class.

“Sure, just give me a second to switch out of my pointe shoes.” You don’t like to wear yours for walking since they’re new and still stiff.

“So,” Catalina begins, watching you put the money into the machine. “What was that this morning? And don’t you dare try to say it was just dancing, because I’ve seen 'just dancing’ with Jimin and that was not at all what I saw earlier.”

You groan internally, not wanting to deal with her interrogation. Cat isn’t the type to judge you if you told her that you would’ve fucked Jimin right then if it wasn’t for the fact that you noticed her (and the rest of the dancers). But you don’t want to admit it to yourself.

Saying it and thinking it are two very different things, and you aren’t sure you can come to terms with saying that you want to fuck Jimin. Hell, you have no idea if you will feel the same way in an hour. So you choose to keep it to yourself for now.

“Did something happen between you two?” she asks bluntly.

“No, nothing happened between us.”

“And is that a good or bad thing?” she questions next.

“Good,” you huff, “I think…”

It’s been another busy few weeks, and things have been going great…until today. To be honest, this is probably the worst dance day you’ve had in years.

“I’m sorry guys, let’s start from the top,” you apologize again for messing up. The scene you’re going over today isn’t complicated by any means, it’s only a transition scene. But your head is elsewhere which, in turn, makes you mess up every couple of seconds.

You're not getting many approving looks from the room. Luca is a little worried, Madam Jamie has pursed lips, and the dancers are severely annoyed with you.

“No, Miss Y/N. Stop before you hurt yourself.” Mr. Jenson lets out a frustrated sigh. “Kyra, would you stand in for Y/N and show her how it’s properly done?”

You’re embarrassed that it’s gotten to this point. What is with you? You’ve done this sequence perfectly with Jimin this past week, hundreds of times at least. Now with the extra dancers on the floor, you seem to be forgetting it all.

Taking soft, shallow breaths is the only thing keeping you from crying in front of everyone. But they wouldn’t notice. All eyes are glued to Kyra, a senior who had also auditioned for the same role as you, as she dances with Jimin.

They dance beautifully, you can’t deny it, even if you want to. You can’t help but wonder if she would’ve been the better choice for the female lead.

“Thank you, Kyra. Everyone back into position now.”

Kyra walks past you and smirks. You know she’s thinking the same thing that you are. She probably also thinks that she’s capable of sweeping in and stealing your position. Like hell if you’re going to let that happen.

Even so, it’s not your decision to make and you know if you keep screwing this up it’s more than likely to happen.

“Hey, are you okay? What’s your deal?” Jimin whispers once he lines up with you again. The last thing you need is for him to make you feel worse for fucking up.

“I don’t know, it’s not a good day for me,” you whisper back as your eyes fill with tears. You’re completely exhausted, defeated, and disappointed.

“Just dance it off, we all get days like this. Follow my lead, okay? I promise I won’t let you mess up again.”

You nod, blinking back your tears. This is a different side of Jimin than you’re used to. He’s caring and knows exactly what to say to make you feel better.

After shaking off the earlier mishaps, you get yourself together and push through practice, making sure that the first official run-through of the program is a total success. It makes you feel a hell of a lot better than two hours earlier. You can tell that the rest of the group is just as ecstatic as you and Jimin are.

“That was great, Y/N!” he says, pulling you into a comforting hug. “See, all you needed was a little reassurance.”

You’re slightly sad when he pulls back, the warmth of his body is no longer felt. “Thank you for today. I would’ve completely fallen apart without you.”

“Hey don’t worry about it, make sure you get some rest this weekend. See you Monday!” He smiles softly and waves bye. Who knew Jimin had more to him than what everyone else saw?

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn your head and see Madison, one of the upperclassmen who’s also in the show, walking toward you.

“What are you doing tonight? Some of the girls and I are planning on going out to celebrate our first successful run-through of the show. We’re wondering if you’d like to come?” She leans in a little closer, “We have a fake you can use to get into our favorite club, Wander. We’d love for you to let loose with us.”

Usually, you would turn down any interaction that involves alcohol, especially since you’re underage, but you don’t want to disappoint your potential new friends. Plus it does sound like a lot of fun, and after the practice you just had, you deserve to let loose and relax.

“Yeah, totally! I’d love to come.” Madison smiles and you both trade numbers.

“Okay cool, I’ll text you my address later. We’re gonna get ready at mine before we head out. See you later!” She gives you a quick hug before heading out the door.

You’re secretly excited to hang out with the older girls since you don’t have many other friends in your year. Especially not now with all your free time taken up by rehearsals.

Jimin stands outside the dance studio’s side door, slyly eavesdropping. He makes a mental note to accidentally run into you later. He isn’t sure what’s gotten into him, but he doesn’t want to go without seeing you for two days.

You intrigue him, and after your almost-kiss, Jimin wants to know what your lips feel like for real this time, not just what he has been imagining.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asks over the pounding music. You have no idea what to ask for; you obviously don’t drink and ordering something from the bar is a little out of your comfort zone since you don’t know what you’re doing.

Madison catches on and takes over. “Five shots of tequila for our group!” she yells while leaning over the bartop so he can hear her.

Oh boy, you don’t know much but you know enough to feel safe assuming tonight will be wild if you’re starting with shots, of all things.

With about a month left until the show, deciding to let loose with the girls is exactly the kind of break you need. Dancing, drinks, and good friends. Looking around, you’re happy to see that you have all three. It’s all a part of tonight’s plan.

What you don’t plan for, however, is seeing Jimin in the middle of the dance floor with Kyra all over him. After practice today, this is a total slap in the face.

You aren’t sure if the progress you’ve been making with Jimin is just one-sided, or if you had been imagining it this whole time. It feels like you’re both taking two steps forward in the right direction and then something like this will happen, sending you ten steps back.

Your eyes are glued to Kyra’s body as she dances with him, her hips moving at the perfect speed. You can’t help but be jealous of her. Not only is she gorgeous and a great dancer, but she also has a way of demanding everyone’s attention in any room she graces. Although, there’s only one person’s attention you want right now, and from what it looks like, you doubt you’ll be getting his anytime soon.

“Oh my god, is that Luca?” Catalina asks with a surprised tone, pointing towards the opposite end of the bar, “No way, it can’t be.”

“It is,” you laugh nervously before looking away. You’re a little worried that he might remember that you’re under the legal drinking age, only by a year, but still. How embarrassing would it be for him to get you kicked out…

“That’ll be $42,” the bartender drones, pushing the over-spilling shot glasses toward your group and happily taking whichever girls’ fifty-dollar bill in return.

You lift your glass along with the others, “Here’s to letting go and having fun!”

The tequila burns the back of your throat but that doesn’t stop you from hollering, “Let’s go dance!”

You pull Madison and Catalina onto the dance floor, coming to an abrupt stop when your back collides with someone., “Oh my gosh, I am so sor–” You pause and stare at the dark-haired man, “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi ladies, I hope you’re not getting into too much trouble tonight,” Luca jokes with a wide smile displayed across his face. He looks gorgeous dressed in all black, the leather jacket tops off his outfit.

“Oh of course not, Mr. Black,” Catalina giggles playfully, “We’re all good girls here.”

He raises his eyebrow which makes each of you giggle, “I’m not so sure about that. Can I buy you all a drink? Or is that a little weird?”

You look around at the girls; they do the same.

“Uh, sure? Madison finally says, breaking up the awkward silence.

Cat and one of her friends entertain Luca’s conversation while they wait at the bar. You slyly peek over your shoulder while dancing, looking for you-know-who. You can’t find him, but you’re happy to see that Kyra has moved on to her next man of the night.

"Hey,” Luca says, walking towards you with an extra drink in hand. “Here you go. Shhh, it’s our little secret,” he says humorously.

You thank him for the drink, nervously swirling the ice with the slim black straw in your cup.

“I’m happy I ran into you,” he begins, “Can I talk to you for a second, alone?”

“Oh, uh, sure!” You nod to Cat, silently saying that you’ll catch up with her later. He smiles and pulls you aside from your friends.

“What’s up?” You ask tensely while Luca grins, running a hand through his hair.

“I just want to tell you how impressed I’ve been with your progress so far, I haven’t been able to take my eyes off of you at rehearsals.”

Oh my god.

“Really?” You gape.

“Absolutely,” he reaches for your hand, bringing you closer to him before bending down to plant his lips on yours. You freeze as he kisses you gently, entirely unsure of what to do in that situation.

He quickly pulls back after reading your body language, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Luca,” you say curtly, taking a step back, “I appreciate your tips in class and kind comments, but I think we should keep things professional here. You’re the choreographer and I’m a student...”

“Of course, I apologize again. How about I walk you back to your friends and we forget this happened?”

“That would be perfect.” You’re thankful that things don’t seem too awkward, and you only hope things will stay that way when you see each other Monday morning.

Jimin’s fingernails dig into the flesh of his palms as he clenches his fists. Fucking Luca Black. He was heading your way to say hi, but Luca led you in a different direction than the one your friends are heading to. He should have known better, but he follows behind slowly. And what he sees when he finally turns the corner doesn’t sit right with him.

Luca’s hand on your cheek as the two of you kiss. Jimin isn’t exactly sure who initiated it. And even though it’s eating him alive, he doesn’t want to know because it pains him either way.

He watches as Luca pulls away, and takes note of your stunned face. Jimin wants to believe that was because you didn’t enjoy it. He can’t hear what you’re talking about, and he truly wants to believe that Luca is making you uncomfortable based on your reaction to the kiss. But that hopeful thought is squashed as soon as you smile and take Luca’s hand, allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

Jimin is still trying to process what he just witnessed even though you’re both long gone. He steps out of the shadows and throws his drink at the wall, ignoring the sound of the glass breaking behind him. Grumbling under his breath, Jimin takes the closest exit and slams the club door behind him.

He heads home with the hopes that a cold shower will ease his rage, but the cool water running down his back isn’t doing much for his boiling blood, nor is it getting rid of the image of Luca’s lips on yours. And inevitably, he can’t get you out of his head either which in turn results in him masturbating to those thoughts of you … which is anything but calming.

Jimin closes his eyes and imagines that it’s him kissing you, not Luca, and that he’s the one who has you pushed up against the wall. He can practically hear your soft whimpers, the ones you make when you’re doing partner stretches that always have him close to losing it right there in front of everyone at rehearsals.

But it isn’t him who’s stretching with you. His length quivers in his hand as he speeds up, trying to change his thoughts to you aroused in the club bathroom, his hand sliding underneath your dress and slipping into your panties. Jimin throws his head back at the image of you getting all worked up, but once again, it isn’t him that’s driving you wild. It’s Luca.

After the fifth attempt and still failing to picture himself with you, Jimin gives up. He groans, looking down at his length’s angry red tip that’s aching for release. And there’s only one thing that will give him that. You.

But not an imaginary you. The real you. The real you wanting him just as much as he wants you. He doubts that you ever will, not when you can have Luca instead.

Meaning that Jimin is basically screwed.

Monday is a killer. Jimin has been hateful to you all morning, and you genuinely have no idea why. He seems to be fuming now at the end of rehearsals, compared to the quiet angry vibe he was giving off earlier this morning.

“Hey, great job today Y/n. You’re doing phenomenal. I can’t wait to see this all come to life next week. See you tomorrow!”

“Thanks! Yes, see you tomorrow Luca.” You wave bye while he rushes out of the room, leaving just you and Jimin behind.

Jimin waits until Luca is out of earshot before saying anything. He’s been annoyed all day by your and Luca’s behavior after witnessing the two of you making out in the hallway of Wander.

He’s disgusted, even more so by the afterthoughts of Luca bringing you back to his place and taking advantage of you. Needless to say, he didn’t sleep much this weekend.

“God, you’re such a suck-up,” he criticizes, failing to hold back his evil words. “How special do you think you’re going to feel when the paid help you’re boning doesn’t remember your name the second he moves on to the next school and finds a new student to seduce?”

“Excuse me?”

“You can pretend all you want but I saw you Friday night. With him.”

Oh god…

You shake your head, “Jimin, I can explain–”

“Whatever, waitlist. I don’t want to hear your excuses.” He turns around and internally grimaces, upsetting you isn’t what he was going for. He’s pissed and unfortunately, you’re the only person he can take it out on. It’s a dick move to say things like that, especially since you deserve to be here just as much as everyone else.

Jimin knows he should just let it go, but he can’t help it. It’s been eating him alive all day. He’s pissed that you’re acting like a damn fool because of Luca’s attention. Luca’s eyes hadn’t left your body the entire day.

Fucking perv.

Jimin is more pissed that it’s bothering him so much. He shouldn’t care, he doesn’t–or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

Jimin’s words stung, and you’re shaking out of pure anger. “What the fuck is your problem? I can handle the normal stick-up-your-ass behavior but it’s on a whole new level today. Chill out, okay? It isn’t what you think. Nothing happened after he kissed me. Not that it’s any of your goddamn business, but it actually made me, like, super uncomfortable and he apologized directly after. We both agreed it wasn’t professional, so piss off Jimin. And even if I did decide to take it further with Luca, it wouldn’t concern you. So stay out of it.” You’re near him when you finish, with crossed arms and eyes glaring.

It’s unbelievable Jimin would make such a comment; the last thing you need is for him to start telling people what he saw.

You know you would be harshly reprimanded for using a fake ID to get into a club, but also for accepting a drink from someone who is a teacher, and especially for kissing that same teacher.

Jimin is just as heated as you are. So his intuition was right that night. His anger only grows, wanting to punch Luca over and over again for making you uncomfortable like that. How could Luca not tell that you weren’t actually into him, but rather idolized him for his contributions to the dance world? How dare he use that against you to pull a move like that?

“Fine,” he growls in your face, totally furious at the situation, and furious with himself for caring this much about it–about you. You’re driving him crazy, even now when you’re pissed with him. It turns him on how strong and defensive you always are, and fuck, he wants to do something about it.

“Fine,” you snap back, taking another step forward as your eyes subconsciously lower to his parted mouth.

In a matter of milliseconds, your lips collide and your hands are all over each other’s bodies. He lifts you into his arms and slams your back into the mirrors. It’s a miracle that they don’t shatter from his force.

You gasp at the contact and Jimin takes the opportunity to shove his tongue further into your mouth. Your legs lock around his waist while you continue to explore each other’s mouths and bodies ravenously.

Jimin pulls away and tugs your leotard down your arms, freeing your breasts from the tight compression.

“You’re so fucking annoying, do you know that?” He snarls before leaving a line of rough kisses along your neck and down your chest. You whimper at the sensation and run your fingers through his hair.

“You’re so fucking loud, do you always have to say so much?” You moan in response.

Jimin is starved for your taste and can’t wait any longer. His hands travel down your side while his lips close over one of your soft peaks, sucking it in between his teeth.

You mewl, crashing your head back against the glass from the sheer amount of pleasure.

Jimin abruptly pulls away and brings his face back in front of yours. “What? Do you have something to say?” he asks with fire in his eyes. But with his lips replaced by his fingers, twisting and tugging, you’re helplessly tongue-tied.

He moves one hand lower and another soft moan escapes your lips, his middle finger dancing dangerously above your panties before dipping into your slickened folds.

Jimin knows exactly where and how to touch you, causing your head to spin. He feels himself hardening watching your face contort in pleasure, and nearly coming in his pants when you slowly lick your bottom lip, pulling it in between your teeth and letting out a long moan in the process.

“Mmm, Jimin,” you cry, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Jimin notices this and instantly pulls away. You don’t get to come that easily. Even though it makes him super fucking excited to see what his touch does to you. God, this is so much better than what he imagined.

You whimper at the loss of his touch, “What the fuck?”

“Turn around,” he demands, his eyes flooding with lust and a dash of something dark. He undresses you rather quickly, leaving your tights and leotard wrapped around your legs.

You decide you aren’t going to let him have all the fun, sneaking a hand back behind you. Jimin grits his teeth in pleasure as your hand slips into his pants. His length twitches in anticipation of feeling you wrapped around him. You pull his member out and lead him between your damp folds, moaning deliciously at the contact.

The scent of your arousal has now filled the room and Jimin can’t hold back any longer. He wants to fulfill his fantasy of taking you hard and fast, right here in front of the mirror. Without a warning he slams himself into you, causing you to lose your breath.

Your back is against him as he relentlessly pounds you from behind. The force of his thrusts are hard and you use your hands as leverage against the mirror to avoid being crushed by him, even though it would certainly be worth it.

Jimin brings a hand up around your neck and holds your head straight so he can watch when you come. You’re close and he knows just what to do.

“Say my name,” he demands, using his other hand to pinch your clit. “Look at me and say the name of the man who’s making you come like you never have before.”

“Jimin, oh my-” The waves of pleasure wash over your entire body, every inch of your skin tingles. You pulsate around him, but he’s not done with you yet.

“That’s damn right.” Jimin twists you around again, lifting you against the reflective glass. He keeps his fast pace, with a fistful of your hair held between his tightening fingers.

“You’re such a fucking slut. Look at you losing it over my cock,” he snarls with a clenched jaw, “I’m gonna fuck you like this until the rest of the class comes in.”

Jimin rams into you with twice the amount of force as before. “I’d make that fucking Italian bastard watch as I take you hard and make you feel this good.” He brings his lips up to your ear and whispers, “He could never,” before harshly biting your ear, sending you completely over the edge for a second time.

Jimin watches you unfold, your beauty completely mesmerizes him. Your entire body is on fire from oversensitivity while Jimin’s fingers rub your throbbing nub. You watch, completely hypnotized, as he brings his soaked fingers up to his mouth and sucks them clean.

“Oh, don’t think we’re anywhere near done yet,” he smirks devilishly, moving his thumb back to your clit and rubbing in crude circles. Your eyes squeeze shut at the sensation, and you can’t catch your breath. It’s too much.

Jimin hisses when your fingernails dig into his shoulders. “Fuck, Y/N. You’re so tight right now.” It isn’t long after those words leave his lips that he’s shuddering inside of you, his release shooting into the depths of your heat.

Your insides coil as you reach the peak of your third and final orgasm. Jimin holds your legs steady as you come hard over his cock, and swallows your moans with his mouth.

He slowly retreats out of you and presses his flushed cheek against yours. You can feel his heartbeat thumping out of control while you both catch your breath.

After a moment, he draws back and lowers you to the ground. You both chuckle at the state of your appearance. “I think I have a towel in my bag, one sec.” He says while tucking himself back into his pants as you readjust your hair, trying to make the whole ’i just had sex’ look a little less obvious.

You’re still breathing heavily when he returns to wipe you clean.

“Mmm,” you hum in total satisfaction, and still a little out of it - if you had to be honest. “I should piss you off more often.”

He gives you a look, “Hurry up and get dressed before anyone sees you.”

You’re the one to smirk this time, “I thought you wanted people to see me?”

“Haha, very funny.”

“Hurry up, you’re taking too long,” you whine while Jimin attempts to undo his stage pants as fast as he can.

“I’m trying,” he mutters, silently praying when his zipper finally works, “There we go.”

He lines himself up to you and pushes into your center.

You bite your lip to avoid making any noises as he stretches you out. The two of you are in the small storage closet behind the stage; there’s only about an hour or two until the opening night show starts.

Jimin thought you had to be joking at first when you whispered how badly you needed him after you both were dressed and ready to warm up with the rest of the dancers. But much to his delight, you weren’t kidding.

Hopefully, they won’t notice your absence. Who are you kidding, they probably know that you two are fucking. Plus, it’s kind of obvious when both lead roles go 'missing’ at the same time.

At first, he was torn between following you into the tight space–wanting to be in another tight space–and doing what he normally would call the right thing, which was preparing for tonight. But after seeing the look on your face, Jimin was quick to follow you into the closet.

“Shhh, you need to stay quiet,” Jimin grunts quietly with a hand over your mouth, silencing your moans.

You grip his shoulders as he quickens his pace, bringing you both over the edge.

“Holy fuck,” he quietly whines, the sensation of your inner walls clenching his length is addicting. It isn’t long after your sweet release that he’s quivering. He pulls out, knowing you can’t dance with his release filling you. He shudders one last time, his come shoots out and onto the wooden floor below.

You giggle, “Good thing we’re in a place that can clean that up.” you say referencing his load.

He rolls his eyes at your joke and leans in to give you a quick kiss, “You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“Yes, typically.”

You flatten out your costume and zip each other up, leaving the closet one at a time. You first of course, since you needed to touch up your makeup now. Leaving Jimin behind to clean up his mess.

About fifteen minutes later you meet Jimin backstage to practice, stretch, and chat along with everyone else. The jitters are bouncing off of everyone and you can’t stand still from excitement, a little nervousness too. But mostly excitement.

“Jimin, are you feeling okay? You look a little stiff and tired if I must say…” Madam Jamie mentions after watching him practice a few scenes.

“Nothing to worry about Madam, had a tiring warm-up is all. Not to worry though, I am more than ready for tonight.”

Madam Jamie reminds him how important rest and lots of water are when practicing hard before moving along to the next student.

“Hmmm, what is it that you usually tell me?” You begin, giving him a coy look, “Oh right. 'Just dance it off.’ That should fix your issue, correct?” You look down at his crotch, and back up at him with a twinkle in your eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, daring you to go on.

“After our vigorous warmup, I’m sure you do. But we’re going on stage soon. So suck it up, sweetie.”

He can’t wait to make you regret that statement when he teases you later tonight. He had big plans to celebrate. And knowing you, you would love them.

#jimin fanfic #jimin oneshot #jimin smut #jimin x reader #jimin x you #bts fanfic #bts smut #jimin bts #park jimin #ksmutsociety #kvanity #shadowkoo #300

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huntunderironskies · 2 years ago

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Any chance we'll see more of your writings on the Forsaken tribes? I thought they were an enjoyable way to learn about Werewolf's setting, in addition to being a satisfyingly in-depth look at the playable factions.

Hey, thanks for the ask! It genuinely makes me feel better that people are reading the original stuff I throw out,especially since it's been a rough week.

A lot of the reason I haven't been writing much here is because, well, I'm a philosophy major too now so almost all I do is write now, when I'm not reading texts so dense they might as well be white dwarf stars. Those are pretty high effort posts and I have a general idea of what I want to say but organizing it into something coherent and well-organized, even with a template, is...tough. Writing about mechanics is a lot easier for me so ironically the bits I do with Gifts and how I think a Tribe would use them/how they reinforce the group's identity is the easy part, which I think is the opposite of true for most people.

The second thing is up until a few weeks ago (ish) I was doing my final drafts for Requiem for Rome 2e. I would need to doublecheck what I wrote for Bloodlines: the Ageless but I believe RfR2e is the longest section I've ever written and even if it's not, it's easily been the most effort-intensive. Even factoring in having to hack Mergès into pieces to make it functional, interesting and distinct from every other poisoned-themed Bloodline power. I'm not entirely sure what my NDA allows me to disclose but it's prooooobably safe to say that the sections I wrote are the least surprising thing you could imagine if you know me at all.

Last factor: I don't want to guilt trip people into liking/reblogging posts but I will admit that a dip in interest/engagement is part of what made me take a pause on it and Mythology Mondays. I also still have the houserules posts to make which....yeah, that's still in the works especially since there's some games where it's extensive (trying to explain how I rejiggered The Pack's rules into Geist/Mummy/Deviant's organization rules. Pain. Suffering. Et cetera. I'll probably just have to scrap what I'm doing and just explain things in very general terms.)

If people want to see more of those I can try to brainstorm a more tenable way of doing things that means I'll post more than once every three months, likely breaking it up into multiple sections over a few weeks and focusing more on the mechanical aspects of how to play. I do still think this is a helpful niche because I know there's not a whole lot of Werewolf writers out there and the books have....I think left people wanting in some regards (which is fair, it's hard to fit in entire complex sociological constructs into a corebook.) I don't think I'm alone in thinking that Werewolf 2e got cruelly cut short and there's so much left to explore and talk about.

I'm morally obligated to pitch Chris Allen's Patreon in the meantime if you want more Werewolf content, he's probably my single biggest inspiration. I've never worked for or with him so I promise this isn't sponsored lmao. I've been subscribed at the 1$ tier for like three years or something now, and I can tell you it's easily paid off and then some.

The tl;dr is...yes, but it might not be until after exams are done and I'm on break and it might show up in a different form. I don't want to make any specific promises until then, because while there's going to be a lull for the next two weeks it's going to ramp up again a lot in April because of how my class schedule works.

#thank you for the ask!#again #jam i'm so sorry i saw your question i just had to ACTUALLY break out my textbooks to answer it and do proper academic research #it's in my drafts honest

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thescarvedinsect · 1 year ago

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you can tell a lot about someone based on their phone background. it shows what’s most important to them

#my lock screen is ed from ofmd eating cinnamon toast crunch from the box #my home screen is also ed from ofmd but he's wearing a hat that says “please be patient i have autism”#fuck it i'll just show you #i was not paid or sponsored in any way to reblog this #the cereal one is by @xray-vex #i forgot who made the autism hat one sorry

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bumblely · 2 years ago

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People like you are so disgusting. Defending bad behaviors and trying to act like 'everyone should just get along' when in reality you're trying to defend a spoiled rich kid. You'd be silent if it wasn't Lando that was getting called out for his yet again ignorant behavior

hi, anon! I'm the disgusting person when you came to my blog to send this kind of ask and, of course, even if it's really predictable, anonymously? let me laugh and you're still about this 2 days after? touch some grass and took a few deep breaths, it's going to be okay.

dear anon, I guess you saw my tags (and nothing was scandalous here, I stand by what I said) and decided you wanted to know more about my opinion when you despise it? doesn't sound really healthy to me but it's a you problem. I'm a writer so it's not a problem for me. I'm asking you, as you're here and want to talk about it —I guess you kept the name of my blog somewhere to come back —, what was Lando supposed to do once the trophy was broken in pieces on the podium, then? as it was part of the post and what I precisely replied to.

he apologized to Max, they’re friends, it'll become a story to tell in a few years. he's not going to magically fix it up there, be for real, because now you're blinded by hate. I guess you're part of those saying he insulted a whole country because of an accident —I've seen and rebloged the 2 other times it happened, just scroll down it was long before your ask— but you can't convinced me it was intentional or he had any malicious intent with his celebration, even if he could have done it differently.

this whole thing is going way to far, so even if you were right at the beginning —he should have been more careful and acted differently the first few hours after the accident— as you used it as an excuse to just hate on him for whatever reason you decided was fair, it's making you in the wrong because it's disproportionate now. the post I rebloged against him wasn't fair and you know it, some things weren't even true. I happened to see it because a mutual rebloged it, I'm not lurking on any anti tag don't worry, they're actually all blocked but it just wasn't properly tagged by the previous blog.

he understood and apologized to the factory, the case is closed. as someone really clumsy, I now this kind of things can happen, stop acting like someone died or it was done on purpose. and you better have never broke anything in your entire life because that's just how life goes, not everyone is being careful 100% of time, even when they should be (me included). especially after a race as tiring as this one and a P2. you can be mad at people for many things but not because they're happy and joyful after a good race.

also, for someone who apparently knows who I like, you should have a better look at my blog and what and who I trully stand for. spoiler, it's not Lando 😂 I just always do what seems to be right and fair and some of y'all went too far with this, hence my reblog with my point of view, which is allowed on this app, you liking it or not.

I honestly couldn't care less about people's backgrounds —in life, not only about f1. I don't like or dislike anyone because their family is more or less rich and influent, I rather dislike them for what they do with their money and influence, like who they choose to support for example. I like some paid drivers and dislike some 'self-made' ones because I judge people for who they are and, once again, I always do what seems to be right. as being rich means something bad for you, you believed the hate against Zhou was justified because he grew up privileged and his sponsors helped him to get his seat? and now that you can see he's an amazing person you're taking his side? not just because hate and racism are vile things.

about me defending Lando because I have an undying love for him and not because all of this is ridiculous and out of line, you should check someone's blog before claiming this kind of things, especially when I always tag my posts/reblogs, it's really easy to do. I checked and I rebloged less than 5 posts about him, a little weak if he was my fave 😂. also, I'm far from being silent to defend my drivers: Lewis, Yuki and Guanyu's hate was pointed out here. what have you done again?

also, I don't keep up with people and drivers I don't like because what's the point of doing so and wasting my precious time for someone I don't like? you're keeping up with what you believe is bullshit and even go on people's blogs to insult them because they don't believe on the same things as you, that's far from being healthy, ask yourself the right questions and use your time to show some love to your faves instead.

believe me, if I could, I would block you because we don't need more hate in this sport, there is already more than enough but you're too much of a coward to show who you are and to take responsibly for what you say. I believe that everyone can co-exist peacefully within the big f1 family as long as they know about respect and decency and stop going after each other's throat for everything and anything. if you're being hateful in your post (and lying), people will be in the comments/reblogs, be nice, more people will be. treat people how you want to be. also, as a Lewis fan, I've blocked many fan accounts because all they did was insulting Verstappen over the stupidest things, I ain't following hate accounts because hate is disgusting when it's not justified (being sexist, homophobic, xenophobic and on). so I hope you're keeping this energy for the real fights: racism, xenophobia, sexism, ineffectiveness of the fia and their fear of addressing the right problems (like their deafening silence towards the abuse Zhou got ahead of his debuts), driver's safety (especially in Spa and Miami but also everywhere), mental health and so on.

as I mentioned in the tags about trophies never being in a situation they could break, and as you know, Lewis is known to throw his trophies after a win (which I really miss) and he threw this one as well. I kept the same energy by not hating on him even if the trophy could have been broken by doing this. it's called a celebration as podiums aren't made for art but to celebrate the top 3. did you kept your energy back then and hated on him too? I'm true to myself, I'm not hating on drivers over these things, and especially not on accidents.

— Hungarian Grand Prix 2016, 2018 and 2019

last but not least, instead of being hateful, you could have used your time to teach people about the trophy: its history (shape and painting as it's traditional) or about the history of the factory or the manufacturing process as you know so much about it. it would have helped the community but, sadly, it's not the choice you made and it's sad. it was a good opportunity to be a kind person.

on a different level, I feel like F1 isn't doing enough to promote the trophies: this one is in fine porcelain and hand-painted since a long time, yet most people only got interested because it was broken and most of the times, the artist name is unknown when so many are interesting. they did more promotion for the annual collaboration between Louis Vuitton and the Automobile Club de Monaco than for the collaboration of Richard Orlinski for the French Grand Prix trophy when he's a known artist. F1 and their love for money 🙃. I know Alfa Romeo created the #GetCloser and invite artists but I hope this accident will open the talk about art and trophies —I would love them to be as hyped as the special helmets designs.

this being said, have a nice day anon,

looking forward to seeing you again maybe kinder this time,

— bumblely.

#asks

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daybreakx · 3 years ago

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ANOTHER PLACE: THE QUARTER QUELL

✑ pairing: victor seonghwa x victor fem. reader.

✑ genre: hunger games au, angst, fluff.

✑ warnings for this part: first person pov, angst, hunger games canon level violence, appereances from the series’ og characters, inaccuracies to the books/movies.

✑ word count: 3.9k

✑ a/n: reposting this series because i love it and i hope you’ll really like it as well! please do send feedback my way and support my works by reblogging!♡

𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 // 𝗻𝗲𝘅𝘁 // 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁

The first thing I thought when I saw him was that someone so beautiful could not possibly be deadly. It didn’t matter that I had already been proved wrong. Seonghwa was a Hunger Games Victor, and he held one of the highest death counts.

Some of it also had to do with the fact that he was twice as charming as he was beautiful, sponsors rained upon him the moment he got to the Capitol. Seonghwa represented District 2, which meant people knew he had been raised to kill, and he was good at it.

Seonghwa was one of the few Tributes for his District that did not volunteer, he was Reaped. And as it was expected, he won. Quickly, he became one of the favorite Victors to ever set foot in the Capitol. However, Seonghwa always seemed uninterested, bored, or bothered, both on TV and in person, and he was on the Capitol TV way often. I remembered clearly the first time I saw him, although I didn’t want to remember anything that took me back to the time I had won The Hunger Games myself.

It had been torture for me from the beginning, and I had changed since my name was picked out. I was scared, disgusted, and furious at everything. I’d never known a world that wasn’t cruel and yet, I was shocked at how much worse it could be. But I pulled myself out of it, I crawled out of that arena with nothing other than my will to live, despite everything that had been done to me.

Despite everything I had done too.

I thought I was safe. As safe as someone who had won the Games could be. With memories of every second spent inside the arena haunting your thoughts when you least expect it, as well as the nightmares that would make anyone afraid of closing their eyes at night. I was safe until the third Quarter Quell came around.

I remember the way it felt when I saw the face of the President on TV. The emptiness on the pit of my stomach, knowing that something 'special' had to happen this year for the Quell. My life was over the moment they pulled my name out of the crystal bowl the first time around, but I still felt like I would die all over again in a million different ways when President Snow said the Victors would return to the Games. I remember screaming with a voice that didn't even seem like my own, and crying so much that I thought I would not have any tears left. I wished not to have any more tears. They didn’t deserve my tears.

I couldn’t go back there, I wouldn’t make it this time. Not only because twenty-three other people would try to kill me once again, but because I knew I couldn’t lose myself one more time. I wouldn’t be able to pull myself back together, not even into some poor excuse of a human like I was now.

But still, I went back.

My name wasn't called. I guess it was one of the few times in life I truly felt like I was lucky, like the stars answered my call and told me to be grateful for once. To stop tempting them with my stupid decisions I had already paid hell for. I was lucky enough to not be the one chosen, but I was also stupid enough not to leave well-enough alone.

“I volunteer,” as it turns out, I didn’t whisper the words. The camera panned to me immediately, as I pulled Annie Cresta’s wrist to get her behind me in the middle of her hysterics. Mags, the other Victor, put her arm around Annie's shoulders as she dragged her to the side trying to soothe her, and I stood in the spot she'd occupied just seconds ago. I looked at Finnick, who, coming out of the initial shock, mouthed a 'thank you' before squeezing my hand.

I’d heard everything about my gesture, "You’re a good soul," "You are truly brave," blah, blah, blah. All of those were good things, great things, compliments that felt as if people were throwing flowers at me with every word they said. Until Seonghwa decided to state his opinion as well, on the first day at the Capitol.

"What you did was extremely stupid," he addressed, his voice coming from behind me as I fidgeted with my outfit. Wearing a fishing net wrapped around with barely anything under it to cover my body was making me overly self-conscious and extremely anxious about losing part of my outfit in front of everyone. Although Finnick had joked about it, saying it could get me some sponsors.

“What?” with my palm still pressed to my chest, I turned to face Seonghwa. He was also already styled, wearing a full black suit with dramatic make-up on his eyes making them even sharper.

“What you did—volunteering—it was stupid. Your name wasn’t called, why would you come back to this shit?” Seonghwa continued speaking, using a cold tone that matched the way he was looking at me.

"I have nothing left to lose," the smile I showed him caught him off guard, his eyes narrowing as I talked. "So I try to help those who do."

Not agreeing to ‘work’ for the Capitol had come with a price, a price I never thought I’d pay the way I did. And now, like I’d told Seonghwa, I didn’t have anything else they could take away from me, and I guess deep down I didn’t want to keep living with it.

"Why—"

"y/n, looking for other allies so soon?" holding a sugar cube between two fingers, Finnick stood next to Seonghwa, eyeing him up and down with a sided smile.

"What if I am?" I laughed, extending my palm towards him and he placed the sugar cube, smiling again before I popped it in my mouth.

"We should probably look somewhere else, darling." Finnick didn’t lose his smile as he took a step towards me and placed a hand on my shoulder. He turned me away from Seonghwa, whose gaze remained on me, his lips slightly separated as if he had something left to say, but Finnick pushed me gently onto our carriage and Seonghwa left.

　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ ✦ ✦

"You could learn how to work the trident, you know? It could be useful." Finnick insisted for the hundredth time since training started. He had done it when he was my mentor, but I refused, and now he was trying again, saying we were in this together. What could he teach me that he wouldn’t be able to use against me when the right time came?

"I already said no. It’s too heavy for me, and I would knock myself out before turning it like you do," I said, still working on the fishing hook between my hands. I learned from Mags how to do them and sometimes they came in handy, but right now, I was just trying to keep my mind off things. It clearly wasn’t working. A fishing hook, no matter how pretty it was, couldn’t keep the thoughts of imminent death away for too long.

"y/n, come on you should be training and—"

"I am training. You're bickering so…"

"Fine," Finnick sighed, "I'll go to the simulator, and you'll be next."

“Sure, whatever.” I saw him walk away as I finished the last turn on my fishing hook, examining the result carefully.

The Training Center was practically empty, since most Tributes hadn’t bothered to come down. So there were a lot of free stations to choose from, and although I wasn’t interested in doing anything that supposed preparing to murder people, I walked to another station.

Climbing had been useful in my first Games, giving me some advantage during the inaugural days when I used to hide from other tributes. It wouldn’t hurt to practice that, I thought, as I wrapped my arms and legs around the ropes.

“What are you doing?” Seonghwa stood below me, an eyebrow raised as he looked up at the way I hung from the ceiling, supporting my weight with both legs.

“Training?” I retorted, swinging my torso back and forth as I looked at Seonghwa with a furrowed brow, as if it was him who was hanging upside down instead of me. "Like everyone else."

“You should learn something useful," the boy continued, crossing his arms over his chest, his biceps prominent under his short sleeves. I frowned, wondering why he cared about what I knew or didn’t know how to do, or the use I gave to my time at the Training Center. He’d been throwing spears and axes all morning, and I hadn’t told him he should probably learn hand-to-hand combat, though I was positive he also knew how to do that. “I’ll show you how to work your way around axes.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to do something about your time.”

“I am doing something,” pulling myself up, I hung from my arms for a second before dropping to the ground to face Seonghwa. “I don’t need your assistance, but thank you.”

“You’re not going to make it out alive, acting carelessly like this.”

“I’m not making it out alive no matter what I do,” I shrugged as I strode to the axe training station. “But if you want my help, all you have to do is ask."

“We’re not going to be allies with District 2.″ Finnick hissed as he sat down next to me during dinner.

“Who said we were?" I questioned, filling my mouth with food as I looked at him.

“You were training with that Seonghwa guy today, I don’t think we should—"

“We’re not becoming allies. We were just training together because it seems like nobody can leave me to hang out by myself. Plus, I’m pretty sure everyone’s fighting to be Katniss’ ally, not mine. That’s what should concern you.”

Seonghwa hadn’t kicked my ass while training, which could only mean he was holding back. Being from District 4 had never given me any advantage above the rest of the Tributes, and that wasn’t going to change this time around. All I’d known to do well enough when I got to my first Games was how to swim and use a knife. Although it is obvious, gutting a fish isn’t nearly similar to stabbing a human being.

“We’re already allies, all of us y/n, and you need to remember that the moment we step into the arena.” Odair warned, softening his gaze as if he could make me understand better that way.

“For how long?” I dared to ask, raising my eyebrows at Finnick, “How can you be sure Katniss is not going to kill you, or me, the moment she feels we’re a threat to her precious husband?”

“We’ll see about that,” he replied, “but you have to trust me, that’s all I ask from you.”

“I trust you’ll do what you have to do, Finnick. That’s it.”

　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ ✦ ✦

The stylists worked hard to give me a pretty outfit for the interviews. A green and blue dress that got down to my ankles. Fancy, extremely shiny jewelry with sea motifs and my hair with a headpiece made of pink coral; it was the best outfit I’d had for both Games.

I stood backstage looking at the rest of the tributes' interviews and trying not to touch my headpiece too much, in case I made it fall off. The tributes from District One went out together, talking about how they had always felt the love from the people from the Capitol and hinting that they felt betrayed by the fact that they were going back into the Games. They wouldn’t be the only ones. Next, it was Enobaria’s turn, she was fierce, per usual, not missing a chance to show her sharpened teeth and also connoting anger and betrayal.

Seonghwa went up next, catching my attention even more than the previous tributes. He was weirdly stunning, and it made me feel stupid to even think about it. I was like those dumb people from the Capitol that fawned upon him. None of us—who recognized his beauty—could be blamed, though. Seonghwa’s stylists had also worked hard to make him look amazing with his tailored white suit and black hair styled back, the glitter eyeshadow and tiny gems pasted right under his eyes, and a blood red tint on his lips. He was beautiful, and he was deadly, I reminded myself.

Caesar commented on how everyone would miss seeing Seonghwa around the Capitol and how hard it was to say goodbye, something the latter took with humor. “It’s your fault after all,” he stated, his right hand turning to a fist as he grabbed the arm of the chair. “You can’t act like something you caused is hard to go on with. That wouldn’t be fair for any of us who have to endure it.”

Caesar laughed awkwardly, patting Seonghwa’s leg and changing the subject immediately. He let the tribute say goodbye to his ‘fans’ around the country, making him promise he’d try his best to come back, being a Victor for the second time.

“I thought you were going to do anything to make it out alive,” I couldn’t hold my tongue as Seonghwa came backstage, walking along the spot where I was standing as the tribute for Three went on screen. “Pretty sure you just lost a couple of sponsors out there.”

Seonghwa laughed, running his hands through his hair, he brought back a couple of strands to his forehead. “I don’t care about sponsors or their filthy money.”

“You’re not gonna think that once you’re back in the arena.”

“And you’re not gonna think you don’t want to survive again, are you?”

“Does it matter? Is wanting to live enough?”

“It’s a start, y/n."

I didn’t like the way he said my name, like it was heavy on his tongue. And his eyes were burning into mine again, I forced myself to hold a shiver back. I had a feeling Seonghwa wanted to get into my head, and I wasn’t going to let him. Not when in less than twenty-four hours he’d probably try to kill me.

“y/n, go to your place, you’re up soon!” my escort called from the other side of the hall, gesturing for me to walk over to her.

“See you, Seonghwa.” I nodded, turning around to reach my companion, who looked overly excited. She seemed to ignore the fact that half of us would be dead soon.

“You could use some charm,” Seonghwa remarked as I started walking away. “If you want those sponsors I just let go.” I wanted to flip him off, but instead I just sneered, continuing my way.

Once again, during the interview, I heard all about my volunteering, only this time I felt insulted instead of complimented. How could I not? When Caesar said I wanted the glory all to myself, I was yearning to make my District proud. I forced laughter and answered some questions, trying to seem ‘charming’ like Seonghwa said, and like Finnick instructed since the first time I’d been here: Be likable, be sweet and act like people will need to see you again, so I did everything he told me.

But of course, nothing I did compared to why people needed to see Katniss again: Her pregnancy.

It was no surprise that I couldn’t close my eyes all night. After what had happened at the end of the interviews, when everything had ended in chaos, they had practically thrown us back into our apartments and locked us down. I was sure they were not going to cancel The Quell, no matter how much we rebelled and opposed it, how much disgust and anger we showed, they would go on with The Games. We didn’t matter.

“Where did you get that?” I asked Finnick, glancing at his wrist. A golden bracelet stole glints from the light above us. He couldn’t sleep either, so we were in the living room of District 4′s apartment contemplating our last hours outside the arena.

“Hm, I probably forgot to return it to the stylist,” he shrugged, but pulled the sleeve over it, “Why don’t you go to bed, you still need to rest, you know?”

“Yeah, I will. You should go as well,” I sighed, touching his shoulder as I got up, Finnick looked back at me. I didn’t want to go back into the arena with my friend, the only one remaining. I knew he said we were allies, but I was also aware of what the Games did to a person, and I’d rather die in the hands of someone else than have Finnick do it.

“See you tomorrow,” Finnick chuckled. “Good luck?”

“Shouldn’t you say something about odds in our favor… or whatever?”

“Just be careful, alright?” Once again his eyes were soft as he took me in completely, and I did the same. This was the way I wanted to remember him, not as a Career, not as the monsters the Capitol wanted us to become. Just Finnick, the guy with the charming smile and the soft eyes.

“You too.” I whispered, clenching my jaw to keep the tears at bay.

“We’ll stick together, y/n, okay?” He squeezed my wrist before I walked away.

“Okay.” I promised.

　　　　　　　　　　　　✦ ✦ ✦

I didn’t want to step inside the tube. But I had a Peacekeeper on each side of my body, waiting for the chance to throw me inside if I refused to step in by myself. My stylist and the escort were in the room too, looking more sorry than last night. It had finally hit them where I was going.

I took a deep breath as I stood on the platform, touching the suit I had on. It was made of a soft and fresh material, probably something that would keep our bodies from overheating. The countdown began and I gripped the glass enclosing, my lungs closing up with terror. I stole a last glance at the people in the room before I was finally out in the scorching sun, shaking from head to toe.

The next countdown went by slower as I looked around, water hitting my feet as it moved in waves. I had the girl from District Five on one side and Seonghwa on the other. My breath was heavy, I would pass out if I didn’t manage to even it. But the air was thick with salt and heat.

“Let the 75th Hunger Games begin.”

I jumped from the platform, the cacophony of splashing all around me as I swam as fast as I could towards the Cornucopia, hoping to get a weapon before all the good ones ran out. Or I got killed without even trying to defend myself. Every time I got out to catch my breath, Seonghwa’s words rang in my ears: ‘you’re not gonna think you don’t want to survive’ He was right. At that moment, I wanted to live so badly.

As I stepped on Cornucopia Island, I glanced around, looking both for Finnick and a weapon. I grabbed a knife around the size of my forearm and almost dropped it when I heard the first cannon go off. I ran to my left, dodging an ax coming from District Seven′s tribute and watching him run off as he missed.

“Have you seen Peeta?!” Finnick yelled as he showed up from the opposite side.

“I’m happy to see you too!” I scoffed, my eyes wandered a few meters away, and I saw him. Peeta was struggling with another tribute on the water, “I found him!”

Finnick went back from where he came from, bringing Katniss behind him and then throwing himself into the water to rescue Peeta. I eyed Katniss as she grabbed the bow from her back but hesitated to shoot an arrow. I ran back to the center of the Island, hoping to find at least one backpack with supplies. Instead, I found three of the Careers, Enobaria was the first one to target me, throwing a knife my way and missing by a couple of inches. And then, I was pulled back in the water, fingers sinking on my shoulder and saltwater entering my lungs.

There was one missing Career.

I fought against Seonghwa’s grip as he pulled me even deeper into the water and away from the rocky shore. My knife was long gone, and no matter how hard I thrashed I couldn’t set myself free. One of his arms was crossed around my chest while the other held a silver spear. My elbow sank on his middle and bubbles burst from his mouth as he swallowed water. Another weapon broke the surface and sank in front of my eyes while I got dragged further away from the shore and my allies.

The cannon boomed above once again, and I heard it clearly as my head broke the surface of the water. My chest hurt as I coughed and spit, forcing air into my lungs. The arm that had pulled me down was still pressed to my chest, although Seonghwa also choked on seawater. But he didn’t let go, crossing the spear against my body this time and dragging me. I yelled for Finnick, who was already out of the sea with both kids from District Twelve, but we were too far from them by now. He wailed something back, but I couldn’t make it out with the sounds of water, coughing, and the cannon announcing another death.

Gagging, I crawled away from Seonghwa when we got to the sand. I was helpless; no weapon, no backpack, and taken hostage? By a Career. Things couldn’t get any better or any worse. Well, death certainly would be the worst outcome, I guessed.

Seonghwa approached me again and after sticking his spear on the sand, he offered a hand. “Are you okay?”

My foot slipped as I retreated, and Seonghwa scowled, letting his hand fall back to his side. “You— What the—”

He cut me off, the knife that was tugged on the side of his suit shone in the sunlight as he took it out and threw it to the mount of sand next to me. “I guess we’re allies now, aren’t we?”

“When are you going to try to kill me again, ally?” I scowled, my hand wrapping around the base of the knife. I would have the spear buried in my heart before I could even lift the knife, but I could play pretend.

“You thought that was me trying to kill you? You’d already be dead if I had—” Seonghwa rolled his eyes, moving the wet hair off them with his left hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t try that again anytime soon.”

“I am not your ally,” I stood up taking another step away from him, the knife in my hand pointed to his heart.

“That’s not a very nice way to thank me for not letting the rest of the Careers kill you.”

“Thank you?”

Seonghwa took a step back as well, recovering his spear from the sand and making me tighten my grip on the knife. I was reminded of how he’d end me quickly, if I made the wrong move.

“Allies?” he insisted, the corner of his lip going up in a sly smirk.

“What’s the plan, then?” I muttered, my eyes narrowing.

“To win, of course.” Seonghwa pushed past me, the mockery evident in his tone at this point.

You can never win, not these games.

—if you wish to be tagged on the next part, send a message here.

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juniperhillpatient · 3 years ago

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sometimes I do wanna just start saying my controversial opinions out loud tbh. like sometimes I do wanna just reblog someone's post to tell them they're stupid. but I won't

this isn't about fandom drama btw this is about that one really popular post like "psychological horror & slasher fans should unite against the true enemy: sponsored true crime content" & the notes are filled with some of the most insufferable moral outrage that I've ever seen. I'll say my piece here because I do think OP & all the self-righteous people in their notes are annoying but I'll at least have the internet etiquette to make my own post lol

because like. on the one hand, defending YouTubers isn't exactly the hill I want to die on but on the other hand, it's a larger culture on this website of not wanting to engage in critical thinking of any kind that annoys me. like first of all you do realize that having an interest in true crime is natural & human nature pushes us to be curious about the bizarre & wrong. every social worker & psychologist I've ever met has had an interest in true crime. people who are interested in human nature & understanding it are going to have an interest in the worst that humans are capable of.

also, you CAN be a horror fan & hate true crime I guess but I feel like you're not really engaging with the genre honestly if you're unwilling to engage with what it's actually saying. horror fiction was created because the world has true horrors in it & writers wanted to explore that & examine it. the nature of horror is that it examines our worst fears. having an interest in understanding where some of our worst fears come from (that we'll be murdered or raped or tortured or kidnapped or whatever it may be) IS inherently related to having an interest in horror.

I'm saying this because I see that post several times a day & it vaguely annoys me more every time so I wanted to pinpoint why. but it's really less about that one specific post though & just the bigger culture on Tumblr of like, absolutely refusing to engage with any topic in a nuanced way & freaking out if someone even wants to TALK about anything "pRoBlEmAtIc" (without examining what the person is actually saying) that annoys me

I can understand why you might be put off by the idea of someone being paid to discuss a real life tragedy but at the same time, that's why documentaries exist too. youtube is just the modern platform for a lot of that content. & that's not to say there are NO tasteless hacks out there making offensive videos. I'm sure there are. this is just to say - condemning people for wanting to learn about real life true crime in and of itself is incredibly stupid & also just plain unrealistic considering humans have always been curious creatures & always will be

#true crime #horror #that post is just the embodiment of the self righteous pearl clutching culture that bugs me on here to be honest

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thescarvedinsect · 1 year ago

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Tom and Jerry deserve better than this. Two characters known for some of the most brilliantly animated slapstick with fast-paced yet fluid hand-drawn animation and impeccable comedic timing have been unknowingly used for promoting an app that takes away the diligence, heart, and personal style that goes into creating art. How sad. :-(

tom and jerry have turned to a life of self flagellation and degeneracy.

#ai is not art #i was not paid or sponsored in any way to reblog this #ai is stupid

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trainsinanime · 4 years ago

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Every now and then, I see a post across my dash that goes, “Batman just keeps beating up criminals instead of fixing the systemic problems”. And inevitably, the first reblog is always, “actually in this, this and that comic, he is shown secretly helping the poor by giving them jobs sometimes. He’s like a fictional version of what Bill Gates is trying to be”.

And I’m always like, “is that better, though?”

Okay, yes, obviously it is, but only in direct comparison.

First: This whole thing is at best a minor part of the myth. A very important part for some, maybe, but it hasn’t exactly become an iconic core element of the character. Lots of authors and lots of fans have managed to completely miss this philanthropy aspect. You can either call them all stupid, or admit that there’s an issue with how the character is generally constructed.

The other part, of course, is that “Bill Gates saves the world” is itself far from ideal in real life, as the recent debate about vaccine patents shows. It’s Carnegie’s “Gospel of Wealth” idea; the idea that rich men should be philanthropic, but also that they should retain full control over the philanthropic causes they sponsor, because they have such superior judgement. That is already questionable for self-made millionaires - does experience in software development really translate into experience in medicine research? For someone who canonically only ever inherited their wealth, and whose only higher education and work experience seems to have been Ninja school, that’s even more questionable.

This idea also absolves Bruce of any responsibility for the situation of the world as it is. If a lot of the city is so poor that they regularly turn to spandex crime, while the owner of the biggest company in town has money to build himself stealth jets, that says way more about his relationship with his community than any panel of him hiring someone for his company ever could. We’re regularly told that the Wayne’s had a lot of impact on the way the city developed - but only the good parts. The bad parts just happened, somehow, nobody knows why. How very convenient.

Let’s be real here: If Gotham is as corrupt as it is usually depicted, then a key reason for that is generally that people like the Waynes paid a lot of bribes.

The standard reply post says, “well, change takes a long time, and until all his projects are fully working, he still has to beat up criminals while dressed like a bat”. Well, Batman has been at it since 1939. Clearly he hasn’t done a good job.

Yeah, sure, comic times and all. But see, narratively speaking, Bruce Wayne can’t succeed at making the city better through woke capitalism. Bruce Wayne needs to be Batman, because that’s what the story is about. Anything else is just window dressing. Being a philanthropist isn’t and can’t be a core element of Batman. Pretending otherwise may make you feel better, but it’s disingenuous.

And in my personal opinion, it’s not really necessary. Who really cares about Batman’s socioeconomic impact? It’s a man dressed like a bat who punches crime in the face. It’s okay if we admit that it’s stupid and not well thought out. It doesn’t have to be in order to be fun.

(In fact, it’s perfectly okay to lean into it, like Lego Batman did. For a 9% more serious version, that’s kind of what Marvel is doing with MCU Tony Stark: A stupid, rich egomaniac who is convinced he knows everything better, but doesn’t actually, and constantly needs a team of other heroes or Gwyneth Paltrow to keep his massive wallet pointed in roughly the right direction. Tony Stark won’t save the world from anything but aliens and out of control Tony Stark science experiments, and that’s totally okay because the story never pretends otherwise.)

Batman is fun as he is. And also kind of problematic, but it’s Batman, it’s not like it really matters that much. Let him be problematic, or if you really insist, cancel him (for you). It’s this whole “this one comics page proves he’s okay actually!” that just feels so wrong to me.

#batman #next up: why people can miss me with their superman isn't boring actually hot takes

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fantranslatorbychoice · 4 years ago

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Kakuriyo no Yadomeshi Volume 6 Intermission 3 - Kasuga and O-ryo

T/N: Yep, it’s a double premiere guys, I hope you all enjoy. =)

As always, if you like this translation, you can heart it, share the link, reblog, I just respectfully ask that DO NOT REPOST ELSEWHERE. This is my contribution to the scant English content of this fandom, and I worked really hard to finish this thing, it’s not like I just copy-pasted everything. I even had to build the kanji in Jisho one by one. Try it and you’ll see what I mean.You can rave about this, rant about this, reply, etc. but if possible please link back to this page. If you’re unsure how to do that, just copy the web address of this page. If you’re on a blogsite just insert the web address as a hyperlink as a link back to here. Honestly if this light novel was officially-published in English, I wouldn’t even be doing this right now... And if it did, I’d take this offline to support the publishers and Yuuma-sensei. Creators support creators, is what I believe in. I’ll prolly do 1-5 once 6-10 has been done, or however long I can manage to translate the raw texts, it can take a toll at times. As previously-mentioned in earlier chapters, if you stumbled upon this one, the two seasons of the anime covered volumes 1-5, so other than the extra details, you didn’t miss much stuff.

No spoilers lol

P261 "Hmph. You're the newly-hired kid? Really, you're named Kasuga? Aren't you a stumpy little tanuki-girl? I am O-ryo, the future Wakaokami. I'll train you under me, and I'll be sure to drill the job of being a waitress into your head."

I remember well, the day that I first met O-ryo sama. I am Kasuga, a Bunmon Tanuki, while still a child was chased off from my home by my Hachiyo Baba-sama to experience the outside world, and along with my uncle Chiaki who also has nowhere else to go, we inquired in, and started working in Tenjin-ya. It was that first day. That person who called me stumpy, has hair and skin as white as snow, it was the conspicuously beautiful snow lady. Her personality is of someone who hates losing. She was a selfish Sempai, but has an indomitable and strong willpower to rise to the top, and I thought that surprisingly, I have come to like this person. As such, in order to gain her dream position of Wakaokami, she exerted herself no matter what it took. P262 A woman who fights her battles to win. I came to her side and I recorded her heroic battles, and I wrote about it in my diary.

"Hey.... Hey, why are you asking something while falling asleep, Kasuga-kun, HEY!" "Whaaaa~" In the middle of talking about something regarding a Hachiyo's marriage at great length, sitting on my heels I was nodding off to sleep. Since early morning I have been with Aoi-chan, and I have been going about here and there. I was feeling confident. I was dozing off in front of Byakuya-sama. Is Byakuya-sama angry or is he surprised? "Good grief. You're a reliable and shrewd girl girl, and I think that it's beyond expectations that you're going to get married to a Hachiyo... yet I am worried that they'll find faults on you. That is a position that has many enemies, do you understand? "Yeah, I get it. I have watched Aoi-chan for a long time. But Aoi-chan is awesome... Even though she's in a disadvantage, she was aware of her own strengths. Furthermore, in Tenjin-ya, when Aoi-chan gets married to Odanna-sama, isn't there anyone who grumbles about it?" "Hmmm. in that case, isn't that a problem? Because nobody's complaining, probably there's a group that's P263 thinking about rubbing her out of existence." "That point, I am fine with that. I plan to not make enemies with my demeanor, an incomptetent person making a blunder. Well, at any rate, from the very start I have been incompetent." "..." Byakuya-sama narrowed his eyes, and with a snap hit the corner of his mouth with his fan. I thought that he was going to say something but, he just scolded me and released me after saying "You can go now" . Wahh, after standing up from sitting on my feet, they fell asleep and started tingling painfully... Holding the Maneki-neko** coin bank, I planned to go back to Yugao. Along the way, the waitresses looked over here, and started gossiping and whispering to each other. Up until now the friends that were calling me in carefree voices, and the sempai that used to fiddle with and pushed me around, now they pass sideways, and bow their heads subserviently, and flees anywhere. Oh well, I could understand why they became like that but... I come in contact with the management staff that were like Shizuna-chan and they are normally composed, but I'm a normal girl, aren't I? I feel like I'm a sore thumb sicking out. "Kasuga, Kasuga" "...Chiaki" From the other side of the hallway, peeping over here looking worried, it was my uncle, the tanuki. T/N: Maneki-neko, the beckoning cat, famously known for bringing in luck. It's said that it was originally named after a cat that waved to a monk to go inside a shrine and the monk almost got struck by lightning or something, so it was a lucky omen. P264 He approached while calling for me. "What is it, from now onwards I'm helping out at Yugao." "It's not that, you were called for by Byakuya-sama, and I got worried somewhat." "It's nothing. It's just that I'm developing a souvenir product with Aoi-chan." "Why you, aren't you scowling at me?" "Why, my relative shouldn't speak about me flippantly." He isn't necessarily overprotective and he wasn't saying anything like that, but ever since the old days Chiaki has been worrying about me. He's just a nice and charming person who took care of me, and he always looks after those that are just like me. Though I'm already fine, even at this age he still worries about me... "Chiaki aren't you staying behind here in Tenjin-ya?" "Yep. I'll continue working here. Even though I was thinking of coming along with you." "It's fine, it's nothing. I've always been taken care of by uncle, I cannot function properly being a Hachiyo's wife." "...Kasuga" His eyes gloomily welling up, holding down the corner of his eyes, Chiaki went "That tiny Kasuga has grown to be praise-worthy" "Ahhh stop it already, don't be gloomy.. Get over it." Shh... Uncle you're annoying. P265 While being paid extra care, I could feel myself fading away. Our relationship, even though we are family, here we cannot become too overly-familiar. The love that tanuki give to each other are the strongest among Ayakashi, as such they aren't entrusted to to other people, which makes tanuki unaware about so many things such as getting close to and connecting with strangers. Those people, now matter how much we studied them, we couldn't find them... With regards to those, I thought I learned those in Tenjin-ya.

"Oh.." In front of the passageway that connects the door to Yugao, there is someone who is sneakily peeping in. Isn't that... "O-ryo sama, what are you doing over that place?" "Kyaaa!" O-ryo sama jumped up suprised. With a sluggish expression, she slowly looked back. Opening her mouth as if about to talk, hesitatingly, she made a weird face by sticking her lower lip out. "H-hmph." In the end, O-ryo sama took her leave without saying anything. P266 I slightly tugged on O-ryo sama's sleeves. "What now?" O-ryo sama icily stared down at me with that severe gaze. Oh well, I've been used to that gaze. "Uhm, I believe so, that O-ryo sama will likely aim to be Wakaokami again." ".... what?" "Within Tenjin-ya, there's something that only O-ryo sama can surely do." Pulling my hands immediately from the hem, I madly dashed towards the inner garden where Yugao was. The O-ryo sama who was aiming to be Wakaokami. And the one who made her dream come true, the O-ryo sama that became Wakaokami. To me, O-ryo sama is dazzling, despite the many enemies she makes, being hated by her colleagues, being gutsy and only wants to rise up into the world. The one I adored. After doing so many different things, O-ryo sama eventually became demoted from Wakaokami, and yet... When O-ryo sama becomes Wakaokami once again. Truly, I support that from the sidelines..

End of Intermission 3, Volume 6. Previous - Chapter 8 Next - Chapter 9

References:

Wonderful site for the youkai references

Other stuff I used to do this: Kodansha Kanji Learner’s Dictionary (you can buy here, I’m not sponsored btw). I was about to buy the older edition but then the newer one came out 2013 so I bought that instead. Worth buying since I was able to find nearly all of the words I needed just by stroke pattern alone.

Merriam-Webster's Japanese-English Dictionary (the red-covered 1996 version is apparently out of print right now). This is what I have been using for a very long time, I bought it when I was still a fetus (yes I am old so what lol), and after so many years, when compared to newer editions, I still prefer this one since its entirety is Japanese-English, the English to Japanese gloss are just 16 pages tops, so you get more Japanese words for your buck. But that’s just my opinion, maybe other people prefer the Jap-En x En-Jap IDEK.

Basic online dictionary, Jisho. Knowledge of verb conjugations and other words are necessary since not all have entries.

If you can read Japanese, you can buy the whole set in Amazon Japan, they’re shipping worldwide now, I think.

#kakuriyo no yadomeshi #kakuriyo no yadomeshi light novel #kakuriyo no yadomeshi english translation #kakuriyo no yadomeshi english fan translation #kakuriyo no yadomeshi light novel english #kakuriyo no yadomeshi volume 6 intermission 3

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lastbluetardis · 4 years ago

Text

Chemical Reaction (17/22)

Summary: Though their chemistry class is now over, the chemistry between James and Rose is just getting started. Together, they navigate the highs of new love and the lows of coping with past trauma to forge deep and unbreakable bonds of love and commitment. Part 2 in the Catalysis series. Tagging @doctorroseprompts

This chapter: ~8400 words, explicit (for one small scene). Here we are folks! The culmination of the feels of the last several chapters. Enjoy xo.

If you like my stories, consider leaving me a tip? I know these are trying times, but if you are able, I would really appreciate it xoxo. And as always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated as well.

AO3 | FF | TSP

Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6 | Ch7 | Ch8 | Ch9 | Ch10 | Ch11 | Ch12 | Ch13 | Ch14 | Ch15 | Ch16 | Ch17 | Ch18 | Ch19 | Ch20 | Ch21 | epilogue

April was usually one of James’s least favorite months. The weather was wet and cold, and with it being the last month of the semester, it was always busy with exams and projects. This year, however, he had the pleasure of knowing it was his beloved’s birth month; even though he didn’t know the precise date, that made it all the more fun as, day after day, he greeted Rose with a “Happy Birthday” snog.

Yet every day, she giggled and said, “Not today.” He wasn’t sure what he would do on the morning she kissed him and replied instead with, “Thank you.” Despite his brilliant, magnificent brain, he was stumped on a way to make an ordinary day extraordinary for her.

Though she said she didn’t want anything for her birthday, he couldn’t help but preemptively get her a simple gift: a silver necklace with an infinity heart pendant. The heart was studded with blue zircon—one of his birthstones—while the infinity loop was studded with small diamonds, her birthstone. Cliché, he knew, but the design had caught his attention. He hoped Rose would like it.

James had been carrying it around with him since the start of the month to be presented to her on her date of birth. Whenever the hell that was.

The weeks seemed to fly by, and still it wasn’t her birthday. He had several chilling moments of panic that maybe he somehow missed it, but then resigned himself to the fact it must be at the end of the month. Her so-called hint to him had told him it wasn’t the first or last day of the month… Rose would be cheeky enough to call that a hint if it turned out her birthday was the second to last day of the month. Nevertheless, James was having fun with their little game and worked to make the month special for Rose.

Though he knew she had been teasing when she’d suggested they make love every day so that she would wake up to birthday sex, they nearly met that goal, thanks to Rose staying overnight at his house more often than not. They were both growing to love the routine of cohabitating; James would drive them into the university in the morning, they would attend their respective classes, then they would meet up at the end of the day for him to drive them home again. Even on the days when one of them started earlier than the other, they drove in together, regardless.

While James’s main goal was to make April particularly special for Rose, he found himself realizing that even if it wasn’t her birthday month, he wouldn’t have done anything differently. It was a happy coincidence that the month happened to be filled with a multitude of romantic date night opportunities.

He had surprised her with tickets to the play put on by the university’s theater program, and had told her they would make an entire night out of it. He had dressed in a suit and tie; she had donned a gorgeous evening dress. Reminiscent of their Valentine’s Day plans, they’d had an early dinner out at a nice restaurant before driving to the university for the show. And when they’d gotten home, they peeled the other out of their nice clothes and made sweet love until midnight.

And when he took her to the cherry blossom festival in Washington, D.C., it wasn’t a birthday surprise, either. He would have wanted to tour the capital with Rose and bask in the beauty of the cherry trees no matter the month. There was nothing more romantic than walking hand-in-hand with Rose beneath the pink and white trees while the soft petals floated down around them. Nothing made him happier than seeing her face light up with awe as she took photograph after photograph of the scenery. Though the cherry blossoms weren’t as stunning as typical years, thanks to a warm snap in February followed by an arctic blast that killed some buds in mid-March, the scenery was stunning nevertheless.

They’d had fun exploring the various museums and historic sites in the city as well, but James’s favorite part was watching Rose scribble furiously in her sketchbook when they got back to their hotel room each night. She filled over a dozen pages during their four-day trip; she shared every single one with him, including the portrait of him she’d drawn one morning when she had awoken before him, and had occupied herself with sketching him asleep in the nude. Unlike her previous nude sketches of him, she did not cover his nether regions with a sheet, or simply not draw them at all. No, she had drawn every naked inch of him, down to the morning erection he had been sporting (which had also prompted her to draw a caricature of that very piece of his anatomy, making him howl with laughter when she eventually showed him the picture of a very prominent, very erect penis on a teeny tiny little person).

Playing tourist with Rose was one of James’s favorite things to do, so even if it had not been Rose’s birth month, he would not have changed a thing. It was a mere bonus, pure happenstance, that they managed to go on so many romantic dates that month.

As the month plowed on, bringing him ever-closer to Rose’s elusive birthday and to the end of the semester, another date idea came to him. And this time, he intended to make it double as a birthday gift.

With only a week and a half left to go in the month, and Rose’s birthday falling somewhere in that time frame, James woke up one morning to an email from the student life office at the university. They were advertising discounted tickets to a Philadelphia Phillies baseball game at the end of the month. Perfect! He loved showing Rose more of the state she lived in, as well as the culture of America. And honestly, what was more American than a baseball game?

Rose was still asleep as James read the details of the email, though their alarm was due to go off in a few minutes. He silenced it on his phone and instead gently woke Rose up with a series of kisses to any part of her face not smooshed into her pillow. She grunted and buried her face completely into the pillow.

Chuckling, he tried again, this time pressing the long expanse of his body into hers. He shivered when his hips rubbed into her upper thigh; he woke up hard nearly every morning, and today was no exception. Some mornings, he didn’t feel a pressing need to do anything with it; others, when he snuggled up against Rose, his heartbeat concentrated into a dull, throbbing, insistent pulse between his legs. He was experiencing the latter, and hoped she would be in the mood to make love with him.

“Rose,” he murmured, nuzzling his nose into her hair. He wriggled down a few inches and tucked his nose into the join of her neck and shoulder. He kissed her there and smiled when she shuddered. “Rooooose.”

“M’sleepin’,” she mumbled, but she tilted her head to free up her neck for him.

“Oh? Well, I guess we can’t partake in any morning activities I might’ve had planned,” he lamented, though he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses to her neck. Goosebumps spread across her skin and he could hear her breathing going ragged the longer he kissed her.

She moaned softly when he scraped his teeth across her ear lobe. Finally, she stopped pretending. Turning her face out of her pillow, Rose slung her arm around his shoulders, hauling him closer for a proper kiss.

“Got another date idea,” he breathed between kisses.

“Don’t care,” she answered, chasing his lips.

“I’d like for it to double as your birthday gift.”

“Don’t care,” she repeated. His head emptied of all coherent thought when she reached down between them and took him in her hand, pumping him firmly. His nerves sparked with pleasure as desire settled heavily in his lower belly.

“But I… oh, blimey… I care… God…”

She nipped at his bottom lip and gave him a small squeeze on the upstroke that made stars burst behind his eyes. “You care more about that than what we’re doing?”

He could hardly draw in breath, so focused was he on the addictive rhythm of her hand. Each drag of her fist up and down his length heightened his need for her until he was certain nothing in the world was more important than being inside her.

But the smirk on her face brought out his competitive nature.

“Well, I’m quite cl-clever,” he choked out, trembling when she tightened her hold around him and picked up the pace. “I can walk and chew gum… talk and have se-ex shit!”

Rose guided him between her legs, nudging the tip of him into her wet heat. God, he’d barely paid any attention to her and yet she was so ready. He swallowed down his impatient whimper when she merely teased him, rubbing him through her folds rather than guiding him in.

“Hmm, I clearly am not doing a good enough job,” she mused, her voice frustratingly steady while he could hardly contain his gasps and sighs.

His brain nearly short-circuited. Not doing a good enough job? It was taking every ounce of concentration and restraint he had to try to hold this conversation with her; he would be done for if she tried any harder.

“The university is sponsoring another trip to Phillies… er, Philadelphia,” he squeaked, squeezing his eyes shut to think past the desperate need throbbing through him.

“Oh?” she asked, voice breathless as she stimulated herself with the head of his erection.

“Yeah, yep.” He cleared his throat, hoping it would stop cracking. “A trip to a Phillies game. Professional base-ball!”

Rose slung her leg over his hip and took him inside of her in one smooth, deep movement. Her momentum sent him to his back. Taking full advantage and giving him no reprieve, she sat astride him and began a brutal rhythm that stole his breath, stole his thoughts.

“Shit!” he rasped when the burning pressure in his belly bottomed out. Don’t come, oh God, please don’t come… Baseball. Think of baseball. Phillies, Philadelphia, bus trip, baseball game, showing Rose the stadium, teaching Rose the game… Rose… Rose…

Rose was squeezing him from the inside, giving him such delicious friction as she arched her hips hard into his.

Fighting a losing battle, he choked out, “Sorry… gonna come… sorry… shit!”

Rose caught his lips in a searing kiss as he grunted and panted and moaned his way through his release, trying not to be mortified and to instead enjoy the pleasure and love flooding through him.

He was trembling when his ears stopped roaring. Cheek burning, he groaned and covered his face with his hands.

“That was delightful,” Rose said, a grin in her voice as she lightly tugged at his fingers.

“That was embarrassing,” he countered, moving his hands to her hips. “Sorry.”

She slowly pulled off of him and collapsed onto her back beside him. “You do realize I was trying to do that, right? You’re always so damn considerate and attentive. It was my turn to focus solely on you and getting you off.”

“I feel selfish for coming first,” he complained.

Rose shrugged and pecked a kiss to his temple. “How do you think I feel when you pleasure me more than once before you get off?”

“Hopefully extremely satisfied,” he drawled, winking at her.

She rolled her eyes, but kissed him soundly. “I enjoyed doing that very much for you, so shut up about it.”

He zipped his fingers across his lips, though a grin stretched across them. He caught her lips in another kiss as he let his fingers walk down her body, between her legs. She must have woken up as randy as he had been, because it hardly took any time at all before she arched her back and cried her pleasure into their quiet bedroom.

As she panted and trembled beside him, he stroked her hips, her belly, her thighs, any part of her he could reach, and tried his initial conversation again.

“The university is sponsoring a trip to a Phillies baseball game,” he said. “Have you watched baseball? It’s a fun sport. One of my favorites, actually. I probably ought to get my UK citizenship revoked for that, but I can’t get into the football matches. Though plenty of people find baseball to be boring too. To each their own. Anyways, tickets are twenty dollars, and it covers admission to the game and transportation to and from the stadium. It’s on April twenty-sixth. It’s a night game… 7:05 start time. I would like to make this your birthday gift. Well. One of your birthday gifts, since, really, I want to go to the game anyway, to hell whether it’s your birthday or not. But since I’ve only got about ten days left to choose from, I figure that’s a close enough window to claim it as a birthday gift for you. What do you think? April twenty-sixth… does that sound like a birthday gift to you?”

Rose giggled and pinched his side, drawling, “Very subtle, love.”

James pouted. “Seriously? You’re still not gonna give me your birth date? I’ve been patient all month long!”

Rose cackled. “You liar! You have not at all been patient. At least once a day you beg me to tell you when my birthday is.”

“That is me being patient,” he grumbled, though he grinned when Rose laughed at him again. Even though they would need to get up soon, he tightened his hold around her and snuggled closer to her soft, warm body. “Wanna go to the Phillies game?”

“Sounds like fun,” she replied, running her fingers through his hair. His scalp prickled pleasantly, and he could have easily fallen asleep. But alas…

“We need to get up,” he groaned, burying his face farther into her neck. Rose heaved out a sigh, clearly as reluctant to move as he was. “Wanna share a shower?”

“How could I say no to that?”

With a parting kiss, they rolled out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom.

oOoOo

“You know, I’ve never been to a professional sports stadium before,” Rose said as they strolled, hand in hand, away from the packed parking lot towards Citizens Bank Park, home of the Philadelphia Phillies baseball team. “Wasn’t much into sports back home, and didn’t really have the money for it.”

James gave her hand a squeeze and watched her out of the corner of his eye. Something was… off. She’d been agitated when he’d picked her up from her flat that morning to drive her to the university. She was short and snippy with him, but insisted she was fine even though she obviously wasn’t, which had only annoyed him in return.

He had nearly called off their date to Philly, since she obviously wasn’t having a good day and he didn’t think he could stomach an entire night of forced joviality. However, after classes, she had met him in the library as planned and was decked out in a red Phillies sweatshirt and matching lipstick, greeting him as though their tense morning hadn’t happened.

“Where did you get that?” he’d asked, fluttering his hands at her top.

“The internet. Turns out everything exists on the internet,” she’d teased, bumping her hip into his.

He had been thrown by her chipper mood, and Rose must have sensed that. She reached up for a hug and squeezed him so tightly, it was as if all the tension that had been settled over his body was suddenly gone. She lightly kissed his cheek and whispered, “Sorry for this morning.”

“What was the matter?” he asked, keeping her in his arms for several more seconds.

“I’ll explain later,” she said. “I don’t really wanna talk about it now. I wanna go watch some baseball!”

It had taken everything he had to not snap at her to just bloody talk to him. Instead, he promised himself he would check in with Rose after the game, or perhaps tomorrow, since it would be late by the time they got home. But he wanted to know what was bothering her, and what had been intermittently troubling her these past few weeks.

That dark day she had had nearly a month ago still niggled at the back of his mind. He wanted to ask her what had happened, but so long had passed that he wasn’t sure how to broach the subject.

Hey Rose! Remember that day you yelled at me in the food court then started crying? What happened?

No, that wouldn’t do. Because what if she didn’t remember? What if nothing at all had happened and she’d had a breakdown over a bunch of little things that didn’t matter anymore? He had been hoping she would tell him on her own time, because he didn’t want to press. And it wasn’t as though he had forgotten about the episode, but he often got too caught up in the present with Rose that he wouldn’t think of it until he was alone again. Part of his brain admonished him, telling him that he could easily have that conversation with Rose through text.

Presently, they scanned their admission tickets at the front gate and stepped through the turnstile into the stadium. James inhaled deeply, catching a whiff of cigarette smoke, fresh air, grass, and greasy food. There was a unique and distinct scent of a baseball stadium that he loved.

Rose let go of his hand and darted forward, her gaze locked on the field in front of them. James followed, smiling to himself. He stood behind her and wrapped his arm around her waist as Rose drank in the sight of the enormous baseball friend in front of them. The grass was lush and verdant, neatly trimmed in the familiar crisscross pattern most baseball diamonds favored. The dirt of the infield looked soft and dry, though the grounds crew were in the middle of hosing it down. The late evening sun cast long shadows across the field while the stadium lights, already switched on in preparation for the night game, created a multi-shadow effect as well.

“Selfie?” James asked, fishing his phone from his pocket.

“Need some help?”

James glanced over and saw a young couple approaching them. The woman held her hand out for his phone, which he handed over. He then wrapped his arm around Rose’s middle. She turned into his side and linked her arms loosely around his hips.

The young woman took several photographs for them, all of them beautiful. James thanked her, then reciprocated the gesture, snapping a photograph of the couple with the baseball field behind them.

When the couple had departed, James took Rose’s hand again and they leisurely strolled around the concourse of the stadium. There was a beer stand every dozen paces, it seemed, and though it was ridiculously overpriced, James forked over the money and bought them a beer apiece. They sipped it as they walked, inspecting the various food stands and merchandise on display.

“What the bloody hell is that?”

James laughed when Rose picked up a plush toy of a furry green creature with a plump belly and elongated snout.

“He’s the team’s mascot,” James answered. “The Phillie Phanatic.”

“What is it?”

James shrugged. “The Phanatic. He’s not really anything, I suppose. He’s his own creature. Don’t knock him, though; the fans love him.”

Rose glanced dubiously up at him, but replaced the toy. James made a mental note to order one for her as a gag gift.

As they continued walking, James’s belly rumbled with hunger when he smelled the intoxicating aroma of bread, beef, and cheese.

“If I get a cheesesteak, will you eat half of it?” he asked. “‘Cos I wanna get crab fries too, but I can’t eat both of those by myself. Actually, the crab fries are right over there.” He took Rose’s shoulders in his hands and pivoted her gently, pointing to a concession stand with a giant logo that read Chickie’s & Pete’s. He rooted in his pocket for a crumpled twenty-dollar bill. “Will you get us an order of fries? With cheese.”

“Er… okay,” Rose said, blinking. “What the hell is a crab fry?”

James snorted. “French fries—chips—with old bay seasoning. They’re really good, I promise.”

Rose leaned up and pecked a kiss to his cheek. “You’re lucky I trust your taste in food.”

She left him to go get their crab fries, while he stood in the Tony Luke’s line for a cheesesteak. Though the line was nearly thirty-people deep, it moved very quickly. Ten minutes later, he spotted Rose waiting for him in a secluded corner near the ramp they would need to take to go to their second-deck seats.

The university had bought out an entire section in right field, and James recognized many of the students lounging in the seats. He had managed to procure front-row end seats for him and Rose. He allowed her to take the end seat, then plopped unceremoniously onto the hard blue chair beside her.

“Beautiful, innit?” he asked, nudging his elbow into her ribs.

“It’s a gorgeous night,” she agreed. “Look at that sunset.”

“View’s nice too,” James said, leaning forward in his seat to look down at the field. Apart from losing a little bit of vision of the right field playing area directly beneath them, they could see the entire ballfield very well.

There was a half hour to go before game time, so they ate their dinner and chatted mindlessly with each other and with their fellow schoolmates who had come on the trip as well. They posed for a giant group photo that was then shared to all of the university’s social media pages.

James was full and content by the time the Phillies players took the field, and he draped his arm around Rose’s shoulders as he explained the rules of baseball to her.

The game was fairly straightforward, with no tricky calls he had to break down for her. There was a ton of action in the first few innings, with both team getting a few home runs, including a grand slam by one of the Phillies’ stars. The stadium erupted with cheers and the LED Liberty Bell began to ring as the Phillie trotted his way around the bases. Rose appeared to be caught up in the atmosphere, jumping and cheering along with the crowd.

It was fun, James thought, to be sharing this with Rose. He made a mental note to keep an eye out for other discounted ticket specials, even if it wasn’t for the Phillies. A minor league team was based close to the university, and he imagined he could get tickets fairly cheaply, if it would be something Rose was interested in.

During one of the inning breaks, Rose had turned to him, flushed and beaming. She looked breathtaking, with the lights from the stadium glowing behind her and casting her hair in a golden halo around her head. He felt his mouth go dry and his heart kick up a notch.

Rose frowned at him. “What? You all right?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I…” He swallowed thickly, then smiled at her. “You’re beautiful.”

Her cheeks flushed a deeper red and a shy smile crossed her face. He reached over to brush a stray wisp of hair from her face, but then kept his hand on her cheek. “Love you.”

They moved at the same time, leaning closer until their noses brushed, then their lips pressed together. The noises of the stadium disappeared, lost in the heavy pounding of his heart as he kissed Rose. Her mouth was warm and soft, though felt a little funny with the slightly waxy texture of her lipstick.

He had meant for it to be a quick little kiss, though he should have known better; how often was he able to give Rose only one kiss? Angling his head slightly to the side, James lost himself in her, in the warmth of her hands. One of them was on the nape of his neck, the other at his waist, clinging to his sweatshirt as he devoured her lips. His tongue swept along hers, then trailed across the roof of her mouth. He delighted in her full-body shiver.

Before he could do it again, there was an explosion of noise around them.

“Hey, you’re not making a porno here!”

James wrenched away from Rose, blinking dazedly at the person who had interrupted them. It was one of their fellow students. He nudged James’s shoulder, then pointed towards the giant screen above left-center field.

His own dazed face looked back at him.

Kiss Cam. Oh, dear…

He grinned sheepishly at the camera, then pecked a chaste kiss to Rose’s temple. She looked equally abashed. Blessedly, the camera panned away from them, though the crowd of university students around them continued jeering and teasing.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he murmured to Rose.

“S’not your fault. I wasn’t exactly beating you off of me.” He snorted and kissed her cheek. “You’ve got lipstick on you.”

James licked his swollen, tingling lips. A moment later, Rose cradled his jaw in her palm and rubbed a damp napkin across his mouth. It came away stained red. Her own mouth was smudged with lipstick, and he helped her clear it off, too.

“You are too enticing,” he concluded when they were lipstick free. “How am I supposed to restrain myself from kissing you?”

“Maybe you shouldn't,” Rose drawled, and she leaned up to plant a hard kiss to his mouth again.

Of course, the Kiss Cam found them once again, to the delight of the stadium, and to their fellow students, who didn’t let them live it down for the rest of the night.

The last few innings passed without much excitement and ended with the Phillies winning seven to four over the Miami Marlins. They were exhausted as they traipsed to the charter bus that would take them back to the school.

It was just after eleven o’clock when the bus returned to campus, and almost midnight by the time James pulled up in front of Rose’s flat. For once, he was staying overnight with her, per her request. The climb up to her fifth-floor flat was exhausting, and James wanted to curl up with Rose and go directly to sleep.

“What time is it?” Rose muttered to herself when she unlocked her front door and stepped into her dark flat. She flipped on the lights and glanced in the direction of the stove; 11:42 glowed green from the digital display. “Ooof, gotta wee. Stay here!”

She sprinted down the hall and slammed the bathroom door behind her. James was left laughing and shaking his head at her.

He set his keys and wallet down on the kitchen table, but as he was about to toe off his shoes, an open, hand-written letter caught his eye. He didn’t mean to snoop, but his eyes and brain worked independently of each other and before he knew it, he’d glanced at the end of the letter, where the name Jimmy was printed in a messy scribble.

His ears rang hollowly and his head swam. Jimmy. Jimmy? As in, Jimmy Stone? Jimmy Stone, Rose’s wanker of an ex-boyfriend?

A righteous anger welled up in James; what the hell did Jimmy want with Rose? And how dare he contact her out of the blue after all this time.

Before he was entirely aware of his actions, James plucked up the piece of paper, eyes frantically scanning across the words.

Rosie,

I’ve started this letter half a dozen times now, and I’m no closer to knowing how to say exactly what I want to say. It seems surreal that we’ve been talking again. I’ve missed you so much, you have no idea. It’s like I’ve found a piece of myself I didn’t know was lost. I’m not complete without you, and I hate the person I am without you.

This past month has been the happiest of my life because I’ve been able to talk to you again. I am thankful that you let me apologize, because there is nothing more I’ve wanted to do for the last six months. Getting sober has made me realize a lot of things, but it especially showed me that I missed you and that I want you. The worst mistake I ever made was how I treated you, and I will spend the rest of my life hating myself for it. I will spend the rest of my life (our life?) making it up to you.

I love you, Rosie. I love you so fucking much. You make me feel like I can do anything, and I love how I feel when I’m with you. We were the best thing to ever happen to me, and I’m such an idiot for destroying the perfect, wonderful life we had made together. I think I was scared. I was scared of not being able to support the both of us with my music, and I was scared about how much I needed you. You were a comfort to me, something I knew would always be there for me, something reliable, and it was scary for me to need anything that much. But I’m not scared anymore, and I know I can make it work this time. As you said, we were young, stupid kids and we made young, stupid mistakes. Now we can start fresh and build something even better than before.

I know you’re at school in America (which I always knew you could do! I always knew you were smart enough for school, despite what you said about yourself). I’m happy you’re enjoying your time in America. I want you to enjoy your time there, while you can. I’ll be here waiting for you when you come home. I’ll wait forever for you because you’re worth it. You’re so worth it, Rosie. I would wait a thousand years for you if I needed to. I hope I don’t have to though.

This time we can work harder together to make us work. I know you might not be ready to trust me yet, but I promise I will show you how serious I am. How committed I am. I will do whatever it takes to make this work between us, because I hate the thought of my life without you in it.

In the meantime, texting you will hold me over. I cherish every day, every moment that I can talk to you.

All my love,

Jimmy

James could barely think, could barely breathe. Something was squeezing his chest tighter and tighter until he thought he might suffocate as he read and reread the words of the letter. The love letter. The love letter that Rose’s ex-boyfriend wrote to her after a month—a month?!—of them having texted back and forth.

Acid churned in the pit of his stomach, eating away at his guts and making him certain he was about to vomit all over Rose’s floor. And worst of all, his chest was collapsing in on itself and his heart was breaking into more pieces than he thought possible. An entire month, Rose had been texting her ex-boyfriend—the ex-boyfriend she had supposedly written off and hadn’t deigned to contact in three and a half years.

And she hadn’t told him. A month, and she hadn’t said a single word.

His pulse thundered in his ringing ears so loudly that he didn’t hear the approaching footsteps until the sheet of paper was abruptly yanked out of his hands.

oOoOo

It was a relief to empty her bladder after holding it for most of the trip home. She had been tempted to use the toilets at the stadium, but the lines had been impossibly long.

With that need dealt with, Rose washed her hands and then her face. She felt greasy and grimy, and would have preferred to get a shower, but she only had a couple minutes before midnight, and she could finally tell James it was her birthday. She deserved a damn medal for not spilling the beans early—though there had been a few close calls—but she couldn’t deny it had been fun to play with James all month. She couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought to simply look at her identification card, where her birthday was plainly printed in bold. But that was her James, wasn’t it? The smartest idiot in the room.

She rushed to brush her teeth and comb out her hair before she left the bathroom and skipped to her kitchen/dining/living room.

James stood by the kitchen table, a sheet of paper in his hands and a stricken expression on his pale face.

Oh. Oh, no… Her stomach dropped. He was reading the disgusting letter that had arrived from Jimmy out of the blue yesterday afternoon.

She didn’t know whether she was more embarrassed, considering the content of the letter James was reading, or angry that he had snooped through her things and read her mail. The former won, but fueled the latter.

Rushing up to him, Rose yanked the letter harshly out of his fingers. He flinched as though she had struck him.

“What are you doing?” she snapped, folding up the paper and setting it on the kitchen table beneath one of her class notebooks.

“What am I doing? What are you doing? You’ve been chatting with your ex-boyfriend for an entire month?!”

There was an awful combination of accusation and hurt in his voice that simultaneously grated against her nerves and broke her heart. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to find out about Jimmy like this. He wasn’t supposed to read that letter until she had explained the past couple weeks to him.

No, not merely a couple weeks. A month. It had been an entire month (and a little extra) since Jimmy first contacted her, and Rose hadn’t said a single word about it to James. Shit.

“I was going to tell you,” she said weakly. “I just…”

“Just hid it from me by accident, did you?” he said, condescension dripping from his every word.

Rose clenched her fists and her jaw before coldly replying, “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to talk to anybody, or that I needed to tell you about every person I talk to. Sorry, d’you want to know about the bloke I chatted to while I was waiting for you in the library today? Wanna know about the girl I met at work ‘cos she’d recently broken up with her girlfriend and needed to talk to someone? Wanna know about…”

She knew she was being ridiculous but she couldn’t make herself stop until James interrupted her.

“Of course you don’t need to tell me about everyone you talk to.” Two pink stains spread across his cheeks. “But I would have hoped you would have trusted me enough to tell me when your ex-boyfriend, the ex-boyfriend you claimed to despise, contacts you!”

Rose crossed her arms in front of herself, gripping the fabric of her sweatshirt so tightly that her fingertips began to ache. “This isn’t about trust, James.”

“No? Well, it sure seems like it is. Because you don’t actually trust me, do you? Not nearly to the extent that I trust you. I’ve shared everything with you, Rose. Everything! I told you about the worst night of my life. How it still haunts me and gives me nightmares like I’m a child again rather than a grown man. But you…”

He flapped his arms wildly before letting them fall limply to his sides, clearly out of words. But he didn’t need any more words; the ones he’d hurled at her hit their mark, cracking her heart wide open. He didn’t think she trusted him?

Suddenly wanting him to hurt as much as she did, she met his eye and said, “I didn’t make you share any of that with me. You did that on your own. You opening up to me doesn’t mean I’m obligated to do the same to you.”

It happened almost in slow motion, the way his face crumpled. The way his chin wobbled and his lips parted slightly with a soft, nearly inaudible, “Oh.” The way a crinkle formed between his brows, and beneath them, his eyes grew shiny with moisture.

Shit. Shit shit shit!

“James, I…” I’m sorry… I didn’t mean that…

His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, then his face smoothed into a mask of a person she didn’t recognize. Even before they became friends, when he was the random cute bloke sitting in front of her in their chemistry class, he exuded more warmth than he did right now.

“How silly of me to expect some level of reciprocity in this relationship,” he said coolly.

“I didn’t mean that, James,” she muttered, wringing her hands in front of herself. “Really. I didn’t. I’m sorry. I just… I didn’t want you to find out like this. I wanted to tell you the whole thing. I was going to tell you all about it, I swear.”

He barked out a laugh, and it was one of the worst noises she’d ever heard. “Oh, yeah? When were you gonna drop that one? When we’re old and gray in rocking chairs in a nursing home? ‘Darling, remember when we were first dating? Remember that horrible ex-boyfriend I had? He texted me—ha! Remember when texting was all the rage?’ Exactly when were you planning to tell me?”

Any sympathy she had for him had evaporated and her rage returned with a vengeance.

“Obviously if you’re acting like this, I was right to not tell you! Why are you being so unreasonable?”

“Unreasonable? Unreasonable?! My girlfriend has been texting the bloke she used to be in love with, and I’m being unreasonable?”

“Yes, you are! So what if I was texting him? What does it matter who I text on my own bloody phone?”

“You’re missing the entire bloody point!” he shouted, his voice cracking. “I’m not angry that you’re texting him…”

“Clearly,” she grumbled, grinding her teeth together.

“…I’m angry that you felt the need to keep it a secret,” he continued as though she hadn’t interrupted. “And I’m upset because why did you keep it a secret? And what on earth could you two have been talking about if he sent you this… this…” James flapped his hands uselessly to the table and the notebook under which Jimmy’s letter sat. “...this love letter?! For all I bloody know, you could be wanting to get back together with him and…”

“No, don’t you dare,” Rose hissed, voice trembling. Tears of fury and heartbreak burned behind her eyes, blurring her vision. “Don’t you fucking dare accuse me of that. After everything I told you about Jimmy—and don’t tell me I haven’t told you anything. Just because you seem to have selective memory doesn't mean I never told you about his drinking and partying, and how he stopped paying his half of the bills, and how he manipulated me to always feel badly about myself. After everything I told you, how could you even think I would want to go back to him?”

A flash of guilt appeared in James’s eyes. He blinked and lowered his gaze, staying silent.

“Even if he hadn’t treated me like shit, how could you take away everything you and I have done together? Everything we’ve built together? How could you think I would leave us behind for someone I fell out of love with years ago?” She sniffled as her tears finally fell, streaking down her cheeks in hot, wet rivulets of grief and misery. “Do you think that little of me? That I would willingly go back to a relationship like that when what we have is so wonderful? Do you think so little of us?”

James scrubbed his fingers through his hair, making a tousled mess of the limp and somewhat greasy strands; they were in dire need of a wash.

“No. No, of course I don’t…”

“You just said so,” she argued, impatiently wiping her face dry. “You just said…”

“I didn’t really mean it. But you have to understand… relationships are so new to me. You’re the longest relationship I’ve ever been in, and we’ve only been dating for four months. Christ, teenagers in school manage to have longer relationships than this. How pathetic am I for being so illiterate when it comes to love and romance? I barely know what I’m doing half the time, and God knows if I’ve been mucking this all up but you’re too nice to tell me…”

Rose’s head was spinning as her heart fought to beat its way out of her chest. She’d heard this before… she’d heard this all far too many times.

I didn’t mean it; I just drank too much…

You’re remembering wrong, I didn’t say it like that…

You’re being ridiculous. Calm down and maybe we can talk like normal people…

I was so drunk I don’t remember doing that…

I’m the worst piece of shit, Rosie, and I’m sorry, please forgive me…

She shook her head as though she could physically shake Jimmy’s voice out of her ears. Instead, she tried to focus on James’s words rather than map them on top of Jimmy’s.

“This is me telling you now that you are mucking this up…”

But James continued on as though she hadn’t spoken. And with how dry her mouth had become, she wasn’t sure if her words had been audible.

“...And you could be wanting to be in a relationship with someone who’s got a bloody clue as to what they’re doing. Why wouldn’t you prefer to be in a relationship with someone else…?”

“Because I love you, you stupid fucking arsehole!” Rose yelled, which caught his attention. He met her eyes and blinked slowly, as though confused. As though she were revealing a secret he’d never been privy to. “Yes, I love you, but you knew this! At least, I thought you did. I love you so much but you are breaking my heart, James. Haven’t you believed me these last four months?”

His mouth worked wordlessly for a few long and agonizing seconds.

“I… yeah.” His tone suggested otherwise, though, and she nearly began crying with frustration. All this time… all these months… Had none of it been real? Had he been pretending this whole time?

“Thanks for that vote of confidence.” She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes until bright lights burst behind her closed lids. “Thanks a lot, James.”

“I just…” He groaned, sounding as miserable as she felt. Good. “I’m so bloody new at this! I’m making it all up as I go and I’m worried I haven’t been doing a good job. I get nervous that one day you’re going to wake up and realize how rubbish I am at this. That you’ll get sick of holding my hand through all of this as I learn. I’m terrified you’re going to decide you’re done wasting your time with me, because you’re wonderful, and you deserve the best and I…”

“Stop!” Rose cried, a sob stealing the air from her lungs. “I don’t want to hear this. You have just… broken everything we’ve been building, James.” She hiccupped on another sob and impatiently sucked in a lungful of air. “We were supposed to be partners… I wanted us to be partners… I thought we were partners. We were supposed to be equals in this relationship. I don’t want you to put me up on a bloody pedestal, or for you to talk down about yourself or make excuses for yourself. I don’t want there to be this… this inequality between us for the rest of our lives. But if that’s always how it’s gonna be… if that’s how you’re always going to see us, as you being somehow lesser than me…” The force of her tears made her entire body shake. It felt like someone had blown a hole through her chest; she couldn’t breathe. “…then I don’t think we can make this work.”

The tears that had been threatening in James’s eyes fell down his pale cheeks. “What? Rose…?”

She buried her face in her hands, willing herself to calm down. But how could she be calm when it felt like the world was spinning too fast? James had been her tether, her anchor, keeping her grounded to the surface. But he’d let go, or maybe she had, and now she was crashing alone through the void. Lost. Adrift.

“You… are you breaking up with me?” His voice was so hoarse that she could hardly hear it. Though that might have been because her pulse was thudding in her ears instead.

Was she breaking up with him?

“I don’t… no… yes? I don’t know. I don’t want to. God, I don’t want to.” She swallowed the thick lump in her throat. “I love you more than I’ve loved anyone. And right now, that really bloody scares me. I fought so hard, put up with so much, to make things with Jimmy work when I should have called it quits long before it all ended. And I didn’t love him nearly as much as I love you. I’m terrified about what I’ll let happen… what I’ll excuse… I can’t do that again, James. I won’t do that again.”

He reached out for her, but she couldn’t let him touch her. She couldn’t feel his fingers on any part of her body. Not right now.

She raised her hands in front of herself and retreated a pace, nearly tripping over her shoes from where she’d kicked them off at the door.

The door.

With trembling fingers, Rose undid the deadbolt. “I- I want you to leave now.”

“No, wait,” he pleaded, raw urgency in his voice. But he didn’t come any closer to her. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Rose. I didn’t mean… I didn’t mean anything… I didn’t mean… I didn’t… Please…”

She’d never heard James, her eloquent, loquacious James, struggle this much for words. His eyes grew wild the longer he went without managing a sentence.

“Please,” he repeated, frantic. “Please, Rose. Don’t do this.”

She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. It was late, and she was so bloody exhausted. She didn’t want to be having this conversation anymore, but she knew it was far from over.

“I need a break,” she said wearily. “I’m tired, James. I’m so tired.”

“We can’t leave it like this,” he rasped through a stifled sob. “Please.”

Rose met his gaze. Everything was written on his face, his grief and terror and heartbreak. He looked impossibly young.

“We’re taking a break for the night,” she repeated. She paused for a beat, then, scrambling for some sort of comic relief, quipped, “Not Ross and Rachel’s version of a break, mind. A time out, more like.”

James either didn’t process the joke or didn’t find it funny, because he was still staring at her with that stricken expression that made her want to wrap him in her arms and apologize for everything that had been said that night.

But she couldn’t make herself move.

“I love you, Rose,” he whispered.

“I know.” That’s why this is so damn painful. “I love you too.” Maybe too much.

Rose had always thought of their love as a fire. A soft, cozy fire, and together they basked in its light and warmth. But maybe they’d gotten too comfortable, gotten too confident, gotten too close; now they were burning, and oh, God, did it hurt.

“Goodnight James,” she murmured, opening the door for him.

He numbly walked towards it, completely forgetting about his phone, keys, and wallet on her table until she went and picked them up. His hands were cold and sweating as she handed him his things.

“Drive safe,” she said. “Text me when you make it home.”

He made a wordless noise she thought was assent, then he was gone, walking silently down the many flights of steps they’d cheerfully bounded up mere moments earlier.

God, how long had it even been? It felt like an entire lifetime had passed. Rose glanced at the clock. 11:58. Sixteen minutes. Sixteen horrible, heartbreaking minutes was all it had taken for Rose’s world to come crashing down around her feet.

She went to her window and peered down at the dark street, waiting. Half a minute later, James stepped out from beneath the front porch of her building and ambled slowly to his car. He moved as though through treacle, as though he were tugging an invisible weight behind himself.

She continued watching him, but James simply sat there in his car in the dark. The clock switched over to 12:00, ringing in April twenty-seventh. She’d planned to kiss him at midnight, as though it were New Year’s Eve, and tell him that he could finally wish her a Happy Birthday.

All of a sudden, her game of keeping her birthday a secret wasn’t fun anymore, and twenty-two didn’t look as optimistic as it had been.

The distant purr of an engine drew her attention to the street below. James had started his car and was pulling away from the curb, taking off down the empty street.

Rose fully gave in to the sorrow she had been fighting back for the past quarter of an hour. Sinking down onto her couch, she bent double over her knees and sobbed her heart out, grieving for all that had shattered that night, and for the unanswerable question of whether broken things could be ever mended.

#ficandchips #doctorroseprompts #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #ten x rose au #james x rose #university au #romance #angst #hurt/comfort #my fic #chemical reaction #catalysis series #chemical potential sequel

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