#this next part is dedicated to the majority of my subconscious that makes me hate myself

[sunboki]

hi lovies if you’re seeing this on your dash as a mutual or a follower or whatever you are, like chan said

“just enjoy”

[captlok]

Pacifism Isn’t A Character Trait

Or: MLK Day is Upon Us so Let Me Do You a Learn

Or: As An Aang Stan I Got a Bit Over-Zealous But Lemme Explain Why For A Hot Minute

Plus some History and Tumblr commentary that even non-ATLA fans can chew on

And by ‘hot minute’ I do mean this is going to be a long meta, so strap in.  For those of you who just might be tuning into this debacle, I, a person who has not used Tumblr, much at all, except for the last half year, ran into some trouble. 

If you wanna skip the whole TLDNR interpersonal stuffs and get straight to Why Aang is the Best Thing Since Sliced Bread, I will embolden the relevant parts, and italicize the crit of Korra, if you want that alongside.

I was excited that ATLA was seeing a resurgence due to the Netflix remake. I wasn’t even trying to apply any steep expectations for it. (learned not to do that the hard way with the last live action adaption, and to a much lesser extent, ATLOK, since it had good . . . elements, *ba dum tsshh*) 

So, these are a couple aspects of the issue: (1) Even on the internet, I am extremely introverted and until recently mostly came for content, not socializing. My main online interactions thus far have been in forums and artist-to-artist on DA. Tumblr is still very strange to me because it splits up its ‘threads’ so you can’t see all the replies if a certain pattern of users responds in their own space. I’m not even 100% sure it’s in chronological order, and replies are not nested next to each other so you can look in the comments and someone will be replying to something you can’t see in that window. And also since it is a bizarre hybrid of a blogging system, posts are somehow considered ‘owned by’ or an ‘extension of’ OP in a way forum threads are not. (2) ATLOK was good in a cinematic and musical way, to be sure. It also had some good concepts. I can go into it just appreciating it for the worldbuilding and be somewhat satisfied. But the execution was terrible. I was on AvatarSpirit.Net for years, and If I had maintained my presence on ASN to current day and had gotten around to downloading their archive now that the forum is dead, I would include some links to other peoples’ detailed analyses on just how flawed both the plotting and Korra’s frustratingly flat learning curve was especially in the first two seasons. But, that is a task for another day, and only if people are interested. 

No, what I’m addressing today, on the issue of Korra as a writing exercise, is how Mike and Bryan said specifically they wanted to make her ‘as opposite to Aang as possible’ and in so doing, muddied the central theme of the original ATLA series.

Now, again, I was mainly an art consumer for my first major round of ATLA fandom. Tumblr is an alien beast to me. But, after I write my first major Aang meta, talking about how amazing it is that he has the attitude he does, and how being content in the face of this overwhelming pain and suffering is an ONGOING PROCESS and an INTENTIONAL DECISION and not a simple PERSONALITY TRAIT, I start hearing that Aang gets a lot of hate from the fandom. Now this would be bad enough if it were merely people not liking his crowning moment of pacifism because they don’t understand the potential utility (I’ll elaborate on that in another post) or the ethics involved.

Aang is easily the most adult member of the Gaang. But he apparently gets hate for his few moments where he actually acts his age, a preteen, and maybe kisses a girl in a historical timeframe in which ‘consent’ discussions were probably nonexistent. Even in the present day, we are still practically drowned in movies that reinforce this kissing without asking trope. And even some female bodied people complain��that asking kills the mood! But somehow he is responsible and reprehensible for this, even though the first time she kissed him back. I’m only going to get into the pacifism discussion today, but that was just another layer of annoyance bouncing around in the back of my head.  Other peoples’ crit of Korra that was stewing in my subconscious, plus this Aang bashing, which thankfully I had not directly read much of, made up the backdrop of gasoline for the match that set it off.  Even that seems a pretty melodramatic way to phrase what I actually said, which was: Aang, on the other hand, lost dozens of father figures and was being steamrolled by Ozai who was gloating about genocide TO HIS FACE, yet he still reigned in all that quote, ‘unbelievable rage and pain’ (The Southern Raiders). We Stan Aang, the Superior Avatar. No I did not f**king stutter. #AangSupremacy In another meta, someone complained that I was too defensive of Aang as a character and didn’t apply literary analysis enough, which I quickly rectified.

What set this off? Someone was kind of indirectly praising the line from Korra,  “When I get out of here, none of you will survive” To them it was emotionally resonant or whatever, and I have to point out that no, it was a martial artist not having control of their state of mind, as is the bedrock of the practice. It was never addressed by the narrative, which is a severe oversight.  I had a conversation with someone in the chats, making this distinction between Korra’s character traits and life philosophy. If she were to kill people while enraged and she was fine with that, that’s one thing. But if she regretted it, that’s a whole other kettle of fish. People argue that she comes from a warrior culture, unlike Aang.

Never mind that warrior monks are a thing. That’s what Shaolin monks are. You can be a pacifist and skilled at fighting. Those things are not mutually exclusive, which is the whole point of Bagua, Aang’s style.  And also, Katara’s style. 

That’s one reason I like Kataang so much- their congruent styles. Both of their real world martial arts are dedicated to pacifism, even though ATLA specifically doesn’t spell that out for Katara and her learning arc. 

There was a meta where someone briefly tried to argue that knowing “martial arts” is against pacifism. No. Quite the opposite. I’d argue that you are not a true pacifist unless you know exactly how to handle yourself if someone attacks you.  If you are not in a position to make conscious decisions about how much force to use, rather than merely operating on survival instincts, that is not pacifism. Or at least, not any energy or effort towards pacifism as a practical everyday tool.  I’ve made a few attempts to learn some tai chi and aikido, and it’s improved my physical and mental health, but some other things have gotten in the way. #lifegoals

I’m not going to tag the unfortunate soul whom I was replying to, because they’re probably tired of all this, but I’ll be sending them a PM to say that I’ve made this into a different post, because as I mentioned before, threads are somehow considered “owned” by OP, so it’s been pointed out to me that I should separate it.  I also said, I have basically ZERO respect for Korra uttering violent threats when the writers already minted a far more emotionally devastated and yet still resilient and centered character earlier in their franchise. People always try to excuse away people who genuinely like Aang more.  As if it’s just nostalgia or whatever. For me, no, it’s absolutely not. It is respect for a character who stands toe to toe with real people who are kind in the face of overwhelming injustice. (I have another meta on that). 

Both OP and people in the chats try to make excuses that she wasn’t raised as a pacifist, and that would be fine if they had addressed it with Tenzin and she had stated outright that she was rejecting pacifism and mind training. As it is, we are left with this nebulous affair where the lines between ideology and personality traits are blurred. 

We are told she “has trouble with spirituality” but what does that even mean? Does she have trouble with focus? Does she have trouble relating to the canonically real spirits? And pacifism specifically nor inner peace that it flows from is never even talked about as an extension of spirituality, which is canonically tied to airbending.

“Aang didn't have to deal once with the loss of his autonomy in atla” OP claims.

This was after I had noted that Aang was getting kicked around by Ozai and was most likely going to die.  Similarly, someone in the chat rejected the idea that a 12 year old trapped in a stone sphere that is heating up under a cyclone-sized blowtorch feels powerless. 

Sorry but that’s flat out ridiculous.

No one wants to admit that both of these people were faced with similar situations, and when push came to shove, one showed his LIFE PHILOSOPHY through conscious effort, and the other was abandoning the basis of martial arts, which is, no matter what the situation, keep thinking. Hold the panic at bay. Non-attachment would have served her well in this situation. Tenzin should have told her this. Before, or afterwards. It should have been addressed in the writing.  

People see this as “bashing” Korra, and oh well, can’t help that. If I think the writers didn’t follow through on their themes, that is my concern.  OP said I was “offended.” No, not really. 

I wasn’t offended by the post itself, or its commentary. Thought I made that pretty clear.

This is not dramatics. Let me be blunt.

As a ideological pacifist, and an actual practitioner of meditation, based on Buddhism, NOT just the fan of some show, I am for calling out writers who write one way from the survivor of genocide, and then stray from that ‘thoughtless aggression is immoral no matter HOW hurt I am’ to ‘let’s not address this character’s aggression in the narrative whatsoever.’ OP attempted to derail by accusing me of being racist or sexist against Korra. Also ridiculous. It honestly should have set me off more, but it didn’t. 

Meditation is about reigning in your emotions. Managing your anger when it gets out of hand, and digging down to the roots of it. Being responsible for your own behavoir. Acknowledging ownership of your own actions. Not blaming anything YOU DO on anyone else or any circumstances in your life. Like an adult, or should I say, an enlightened adult.

Or at the very least, that is the ideal ypu strive towards while being imperfect in the present.

. . .

Now.

I’m going to quote a passage in a Google Doc of mine, even though I’d really prefer if you asked to read the whole thing, with context.

“What do humans do when it is necessary to, or greed makes a nation want to recruit?

They go to the army to get trained, right?

Granted, having someone scream and get spittle on your face is, in the grand scheme of things, poor preparation for having bullets whiz past your chest and grenades shatter your ears. And, what do you do to prepare you for the pain of getting your leg blown off? Hopefully, nothing. Like taking a test where you only got half the study guide. But, it’s about the most ethical way to go about it, right?

Not everyone even sees action. So any more more extensive mental preparation for physical pain than that, and you’d have people definitely protesting.

Well, as it turns out, pacifistic protestors themselves, if they were in the right time and place, also very intentionally do this type of mind training. Except, when they did it, they actually did sit still and took turns roughly grabbing each other and throwing each other down and in some cases, even kicking and bruising each other.

Turns out, those pacifists are, in some ways, more hardcore than the army.

Why is this?

Because a pacifist’s aim, unlike a unit, who wants to gain the upper hand in a situation, is to grit their teeth and grind their way through all those survival instincts, and totally submit.

In this, they aim to get the sympathy of the public, who clearly sees they are not aggressive, or a danger, no matter how much the footage is manipulated or suppressed.

In this, they hope to appeal to their attacker’s better nature.

Make them stop and think, wait a second, are these people a threat like we’re told they are? I’m attacking someone who’s letting me beat them up. Or a bunch of people. All forming a line, and letting us peel them off. Or sitting, and bowing their heads. If I’m on the ‘right’ side of things, the law, why am I doing this?

It’s not like a bully, who’s just a kid.” They’re more self-aware.

And might I add the situation influences a pacifist’s actions too. There’s no reason to let a single or a few random attackers beat you up if you can evade or disable without permanent damage.

Pacifism is a dynamic set of responsive actions informed by values. Not a proscribed set or a checklist.

But in terms of organizing against state power, and recording wrongdoing, which unlike during the Civil Rights can happen from all angles from smart phones nowadays, these are the motivations.

“So, the pacifist knows this, and that’s why they go through all that trouble of training themselves to, not only submit, but not turn tail and run, either.”

See, a character trait is something like being a morning person, or ways of handing information, or a given set of emotions a character feels. Once you cross over into actions, you must make the distinction of whether an impulsive character agrees with their own uncontrolled actions, or is embarrassed or remorseful. Those are life philosophy. Now sure, one type of person or character may be more likely to subscribe to pacifism, but there is no gatekeeping on what you have to feel or how you look at things. You can be easygoing, or feel all the rage in the world, but as long as you at least attempt to have a handle on those desires and feelings to where they do not cross into actions, you are still doing the work of metacognition, which is what martial arts and its accompanying mind training are for.

It’s what we see Aang do.

He’s informed us, during the Southern Raiders, on how much rage and pain he feels.

Pain points, TRIGGERS, that were directly struck at when Ozai gloated over him.

He joins with all the past Avatars for several moments, and just like every other time he is in the Avatar State, he is enraged. He wants to exact revenge on the unrepentant grandson of a baby murderer.

We see it when he turns his head away, face still screwed up in anger.

For another example, I could cite my difficulties in being aware and reining in my tongue sometimes. I know the roots of these issues and I seek to let them go.

It’s just that process takes way longer than Guru Pathik would have us assume.

In fact, I would even say that Aang’s portrayal throughout the three seasons is not strictly a realistic representation of at least the sad side of grief. I addressed that a little when I talked about real life figures. But what it IS, is a metaphor that cuts very deep to the heart of pacifism. As I showed in that Doc . . . There is no limit of suffering a pacifist is willing to go through, internal or external, for the preservation of peace.

This was demonstrated during the Civil Rights, and with Gandhi and all his followers beforehand, inspiring them. The pacifists’ method of swaying hearts is probably the reason BLM exists in such numbers as it does today. Will the types of narratives that correspond with their full stories of the way they collectively planned and trained for and approached conflict make it into fantasy media? I’d say, probably not. For a host of reasons.

It could be hoped for, I guess.

But we DO have Aang.

As for myself, whether speaking sharply is an “action,” per se is up for debate- certainly it doesn’t seem to violate the non-aggression principle put forth by the vision of a “stateless society.”

For another example, let’s take my explanation at the beginning. I am examining how circumstances affected my actions, and now am attempting to fix it, if indeed it needs to be fixed. 

At least one person said that it not so much what I said, but how and when I said it. I don’t actually think I’ve said anything “wrong” per se. So I have to figure it out. 

[I’m considering splitting up this next part into a second post, as it only slightly relates to pacifism itself and is just kinda some more commentary on Tumblr itself- Tumblr discourse, as it were]

[I’ll put more brackets when I’m done in case you want to skip this part as well]

An interesting social difference between Tumblr and other places is this command you often get, “don’t chat/reblog/message me back.”

This is interesting for several reasons. For chats and reblogs, other people may be following the “conversation,” so it’s actually pretty rude and presumptuous to tell a person not to respond to whatever you said, because other people watching still may be interested in your take.

In a forum setting, if someone involved in a conversation doesn’t have anything left to say, usually they just don’t respond.

This method would work perfectly fine for Tumblr, but for some reason, maybe its super odd format, probably due to the “ownership”/“extension of self” I mentioned at the beginning of the essay, people don’t tend to do this.

Now, in comment sections, sometimes you’ll run across an amusing sort of “mutually assured destruction” where two people both say this to each other. You’d better stop responding. Omg just give up. Why are you still arguing. Etc.

But see, no matter where this behavoir pops up, and no matter who starts in on it, those who do this usually want to have the last say on the matter.

Instead of merely not replying, they want to assert verbal control over the conversation.

Tumblr, in its weirdness, is also sort of like a mutant comments section. You can post comment section threads as your own post.

Which is one reason why I’m puzzled when people say ‘don’t read the comment sections’ when Tumblr is so popular.

I’m an oddball in that I browse comment sections for fun.

Probably due to alexithymia, I didn’t really comprehend the emotional toll it takes on many people, so the warnings to “stay out of comment sections” read to me like “hey don’t eat that dessert.” After I’m done with the ‘meal’ of an article or art, I like to see what lots of different people have to say about it. The fluff. Anything vitriolic I either blip over, or extract anything useful, or if I judge the person is reasonable enough, I might engage.

Sometimes I mis-judge on how reasonable someone is, and I shrug and move on after being cussed out or whatever.

In this, I suppose I succeed much of the time in being a verbal pacifist.

[But let’s get back to the more serious stuff.]

We’re talking about what is done in life or death situations, here.

For myself, I may in the near future be working more with dangerously mentally ill people. I’ve had a little exposure to it through various means. Nurses are obligated not to retaliate against patients, and those who have, have been fired in some situations. Again oddly, this is not primarily what triggers my anxiety. Unfortunately enough, this requirement has also resulted in nurses getting seriously injured and violated. I hope to influence whether “no harm” techniques such as tai chi and aikido and arm locks may be allowed. The voluntary philosophy I was luckily already on board with is enforced by bureauacracy, directly relevant to my potential profession.

Were someone to get involved in a dangerous profession, such as a police officer, their moral duty would also be to own up to any spur of the moment anger or fear they acted on. 

It’s just that their bureaucracy acts differently, in excusing their actions.

Ideally, they would be taking steps far in advance, to avoid this often-cited fear of death reaction. As training pacifists like Aang do. 

And yes, army people are trained differently than police officers because the army, often, even when threatened, is supposed to avoid engagement or deploy deterrents that are non-lethal almost all costs, unless ordered otherwise. Whereas American police are given pretty much complete discretion and often not taught de-escalation techniques. Even police from other nations are better trained in that regard.

Enter the ironically named @avatarfandompolice whose account description should really speak for itself. Combative, dismissive, and their attention-hungry bread and butter is to find people they think it’s acceptable to ridicule.  They basically tried to say trauma was a valid excuse to take out your anger on other people, and in this situation, potentially kill. 

Now, does this hold up in the real world? Yeah, sometimes. Especially if some law breaker or law keeper has not been given the anger management tools, they perhaps could be excused, or better yet, rehabilitated.

But especially if anyone finds themselves in dangerous situations, or intends to put themselves in such, it falls to them to do this preparation.

As an aphant, I am at a bit of a disadvantage, compared to an average martial artist, being unable to visualize an attacker. But I still attempt it.

As the main “police officer” of the world- the coincidentally blue clad figurehead that is supposed to keep order, it is apparently fine for Korra to not do the work Aang did to keep level. To blow it off as too much trouble: clearing the First Chakra of fear. For herself or others. And its resultant anger. Had she had access to the Avatar State, the authority figure pretty much would have killed people.  This is what the “fandom police” and a certain chat goer ultimately support. Maybe they didn’t understand it that way, and since the second had blocked me, they will also never see this explanation. Unless I were to share it in Google Doc form I suppose.

So, I responded. “Remember kids, you are not responsible for your own behavior if you have the excuse that someone else did something bad to you.” A frighteningly common sentiment on this site.

When it’s low stakes like CAPSLOCKING or internet fights, that’s not such a big deal. But what happens if this attitude leaks into the real world? This isn’t even about Korra or Aang anymore, it’s about toxic mindsets. I didn’t know fans taking pro-Korra posts as anti-Aang was a common in the fandom. I’ll say again I’ve only just gotten really active on Tumblr like the past few months. This is about pacifism itself. MLK and his hardworking, training followers (yes some of them sixteen and POC and not super-powered like Korra) facing down firehoses and staging sit-ins long trained for would shake their heads at this defense of reactionism. 

Pacifism is not a Personality Trait.

It is deliberate actions and preparation taken over a period of time.

Then the “fandom police” tried more of this, and these two conversations ensued, the comments with another user resulting in the title and main thesis of this essay:

https://captlok.tumblr.com/post/638777472806273024/avatarfandompolice-response-to-my-independent

https://captlok.tumblr.com/post/638806142933467136/the-plight-was-not-what-i-was-getting-at-it-was

[hysteriium]

Here’s to a Better Year

(A/n): So uhhh, this is late but hey, it’s me, so what’s new? I was meant to write this for New Years, and I especially dedicate it to those who haven’t really had the best time with the holidays, or to those who’ve been alone throughout it, it can be a really fucking difficult time. Arthur’s here to make it all better! That being said, I genuinely hope everyone’s been great and I hope y’all have had an amazing time. Y’all deserve all the love in the world :,) 💓  

Summary: The only company you had on New Years was a bottle of alcohol, and a view of a city you often hated to call home. When a familiar face arrives in a rather noisy manner, things could perhaps change for the better.

Words: 1600 words (I KNOW W O W I actually managed to write something short for once).

Pairing: Arthur Fleck x Reader

Warning: Mentions of alcohol, drinking alcohol, implied stalking, depression, swearing

———

New Year’s Eve.

Gotham’s current avidity was a weird combination of distant, yet lively noise as you observed from your elevated haven; excited screams, laughter and drunken singing all merged together in one chaotic swarm of joy. While holidays were never really your thing, particularly parties (and the throbbing headaches blaring music would inevitably elicit), it would be a lie to deny the bundle of sound’s contagiousness – the smile tugging at your lips confirmation of such a fact.

There was one thing, however, you had in common with such partygoers, and that was the bottle of alcohol trapped within your clutch, it’s thin neck rocking side to side as its contents sloshed. As your forearms leaned against the brick half-wall and your hands dangled off the edges with the booze, you wondered how many others were viewing the city from above, like you; admiring a hidden gem.  

Gotham rarely looked beautiful. But, from where you were on the rooftop of your gritty apartment block – the nippy breeze caressing your cheeks – the grim, menacing capital was able to achieve such a feat. The skyscrapers and the energetic spirit of colours decorating the city in celebration was almost enough to hide its rot.

Almost.

At the very least, it could make you forget – for a moment.

You were about to throw your head back and take a swig when the distinctive wail of the fire exit pierced the air, interrupting you. Old and wonky like the entire building, the door ensured no stranger could sneak up on you with such a boisterous announcement. Coinciding with this was the frightened squeak you emitted, the gruelling sensation of embarrassment hardly relenting its prodding stings like a nasty wasp.  

Before you could even process who'd emerged after revolving around, the smell of smoke was an instant phenomenon. Second, was the orange glow of which the wispy clouds originated. Such an amber radiance posed as a lamp, illuminating the striking features of the new arriver. Clad in a carmine suit, a white patterned shirt underneath an equally red waistcoat, and a tie you could scarcely distinguish, you were sure you’d seen him before – on your floor and mysteriously, albeit seldom, while running errands.

Despite not knowing him from a bar of soap, not even his name, what you had noticed was that inside every interaction, the sorrow engulfing the man’s lithe frame, more so held within his gaze, was a prevailing thing.

You'd never seen him smile.

Now was no different as the stranger focused on the stick between his lips. Ignorant to your watching as his face contorted, sucking on its end.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the flooding relief of the year ending which coaxed your lips to move. You weren’t entirely sure, although it didn’t matter ultimately, as the unplanned remark was something you registered only after it sailed against the wind.

“If we bump into each other one more time, I’m going to suspect you’re following me,” you said, bracing your back against the wall you were leaning over just seconds ago.

Like a cat, you recognised the waver in his stature, a jolt in which had his eyes flying to yours, hinting shock and... worry?

Well, that hooked you in.

The giggle you gave in reply fluttered and cut into the tension, urging the twitching upturn of his lips. Before long, a reciprocal chuckle followed as if a major weight had lifted, his rigid form going lax.

Apparently then, it was your turn to be surprised. It hadn’t taken much for the man to laugh. His own joy graced his features, and so the real tragedy was that upon all the times you had come across him, the lack of spoke volumes. Filing this at the back of your mind, you silently picked up on the indicators of fatigue, particularly the bags under his eyes.

“Long night?” You nodded your head towards the cigarette.

A dramatic pause, then a furious shake of his head was his reply.  

“Year.”

Boy, you felt that.

Like a compass near a magnet, his emotions flipped between each other, the predominant feeling of astonishment seemingly returning when you laughed at his quip.

Another small halt.

“So, may I know the name of my stalker?” Your tone was playful as you brought the cold glass up to your maw. It lingered for a moment and traced your lower lip while you stared at the man expectantly, an eyebrow quirked up. Before he could respond, however, you tilted its bottom up, welcoming the rich imprinting burn.  

“Arthur,” he said in that same soft-spoken tone, hardly able to contain the mischievous twinkle flickering across his features – an expression which tugged at your chest. Even with the noise of the alcohol scrambling your mind and snugly embracing your form, you were still able to pinpoint your attraction.

Wordlessly, you patted the brick next to you in slow successions with your empty hand. A playful grin decorated your face as you relished in the purity of his reactions – all interwoven with a touch of innocence. For a moment, you held his stare, swearing you could hear him gulp until you abruptly turned back around to resume the absorbing magnetism of the cityscape. Hearing the pep in his step, his stride contained speckled confidence as he scurried next to you.  

He made himself comfortable, mimicking your position against the top of the wall. The persistent gusts of wind had you shuffling closer to him; what was lost in its strength was made up with its bite.

“I’ve never seen it like this,” he whispered, struck by the wonderment of sparkling unfamiliarity. His look was almost hopeful, awakening a small twinge which began to eat away at the foundations of your heart; a slither of serenity prompted by the simplicity of such a tender moment.

“Makes you think what it could actually be like… you know, without the crime and corruption,” you jested.

He acknowledged your statement with an absent nod, entranced by the view like a kid's first time at an aquarium; completely enamoured and eager to make sense of the chaotic intermingle of vibrancy.

“Want a sip?” You asked, shaking the bottle with the arm you’d extended.

Sweetly he accepted, his gentle touch grazing your fingers for just a second too long as you passed him the alcohol. He met the entrance of the bottle and drank a generous amount, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He placed it down on the brick shortly after.

“Wait, you never told me your name,” he pursued, angling his body towards you.

“Well you’re not a very good stalker if you don’t know your victim's names now, are you?” You poked, not daring to return to the eyes that were no doubt searching yours. You caved at the uncomfortable pricks silence brought and at Arthur’s expectant gaze – which you could practically feel.

“(Y/n).”

Another unanticipated appearance of the icy gust had you rubbing your arms, a subconscious movement in which Arthur had picked up on. He shrugged his red suit jacket off his shoulders. With a quick maneuver, the material cuddled your upper-half, a safety blanket from the treacherous cold mother nature had bestowed upon Gotham. His thin fingers loitered around your shoulders, pressing down lightly. Judging by the abrupt softness overtaking his features, his green eyes dropping to your lips, you could tell he felt the unspoken, thrilling surge between the two of you too.

"You know, there's a tradition with New Years," you murmured, your heart racing from your escaping words. There was no going back now.

Unbeknownst as to how much time had passed, an eruption of excited cheers came from out of nowhere, interrupting you. It had caught you both off guard for a split second. It seemed like the whole of Gotham had gotten together to count down, those out on the balconies the loudest of the bunch.  

"FIVE!"

"Oh really?" he practically purred, ignoring the surrounding clamour, feigning ignorance. His lopsided smirk told you all you needed to know, “do tell.”

"FOUR!"

You reached out, two digits climbing up his chest until they finally reached his tie, a yellow and crimson striped thing which somehow wound up tangled in your fist, pulling him closer. The fluttering of your stomach intensified from his proximity which was, give or take, a few measly centimetres away.

"THREE!"

"A kiss," you said, all but a whisper, gaze refusing to stray from his mouth. As his breath gently grazed your lips, they ever-so-slightly trembled in anticipation.

"TWO!"

“Tradition’s tradition,” he hummed with parted lips, his delicate hands cupping your cheeks.

"ONE!"

His nose gently brushed yours and he angled his head.  

"HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

Cries and laughter were drowned out when Arthur finally closed the gap at the stroke of midnight. You could taste the alcoholic tang on his lips, merging together with his cigarette in a unique union. Although strange, it hardly deterred you, his slow rhythm perfectly matching your own.

Arthur was full of surprises.

When you finally pulled away matching his goofy smile, you both swivelled to awe at the booming array of hues past the towering buildings. Gracefully, the whistling fireworks morphed into soft trails after each climax, vanishing like falling stars.

While there wasn't a whole lot you could positively say about your apartment block, one of the few things was its unexpectedly clear view of the light show. Buzzed and your mind dulled with a fuzzy warmth, you rested your head against his shoulder, releasing a content sigh.

Here's to a better year.

[bave-de-crapaud]

Never Have I Ever...

PART THREE

(Art by flowsofly​ )

Siruis x reader

Post-Azkaban

Reader is younger

3000+ words

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex

*disclaimer: all characters are assumed 18+

————————————————————————————

It had been three weeks since the ‘tequila night’ and your feelings for Sirius had not dampened in the slightest. If anything they had grown. Learning about his love of 70s rock music, his distaste for cruelty and exclusiveness, hearing stories from his days at hogwarts and feeling pain for the boy banished by his maniacal parents, he was hands down the most interesting person you had ever met. He was charming, happy, and so very witty. This was so different to the grim, disheveled Sirius you had met only seven weeks ago, and so you were very grateful to the Ministry for finally officiating his innocence. From what you had come to learn about Sirius, he had not deserved his fate yet he blamed no one and was as dedicated as the most faithful soldier to ensure the safety and freedom of witch, wizard, muggle alike. He was the most beautiful and broken man who deserved the world and your heart started to make room for Sirius, not because you felt sorry for him but you admired his integrity, courage, and strength and god he made you laugh. You thought back to that night often. It was incredibly enjoyable but boy did you pay for it the next day at work….

“Here you go, take a swig of this and you’ll be right as rain, well at least a lesser shade of green.” Tonks held out a cup of tea as she sat on your desk and stifled a giggle at your bedraggled appearance. You shot her a look of gratitude. As you accepted the mug she was proffering Tonks cleared her throat -

“So ah, what happened between you and Sirius last night?”

“What do you mean?” You blew on your tea.

“Well I hate to break it to you but he was flirting up a storm with you and I wasn’t the only one who noticed!” She folded her arms in a sort of so there! gesture, her pink hair gleaming.

You smiled at her defiant posture “didn’t you tell me that’s what he does? Flirt?”

“Well…”Tonks unwrapped her arms “…yes he does but that was before Azkaban. Remus said he hasn’t seen Sirius show interest in anyone since he got out, five years ago.”

“Yes but he was still thought guilty by most of the wizarding world, I’m sure the ministry finally recognising him as the innocent man he is has lifted the burden from his shoulders, he’ll be getting back to his old self.” You reasoned sipping your tea.

Tonks considered you for a moment. “Did you not see the plethora of women and men for that matter, approach him last night? And him waving them off only having eyes for you?”

She took your widened eyes and dribble of tea down your chin as a no, you hadn’t noticed that.

“It’s not just last night.” Tonks continued. “He stares at you during meetings when you are not looking, and I heard him ask Remus that he hopes he would get paired with you during missions.”

“Nymphadora! Y/N! Quit your gas bagging and get back to work!”

Tonks waved Moody off and turned back to you as she stood up from your desk. She was smiling now at your frozen expression.

So Sirius Black, may or may not be harbouring feelings for you. This was new.

- - -

Across town Sirius had just woken up, lying face first on his bed fully clothed. He moaned and grasped his head. Sitting up very slowly he gingerly rubbed his temples as he tried to recall the previous evening…

There was Remus and Bill, Harry, his friends and you. He recalled playing a muggle drinking game that you had taught everyone, about who you would rather….oh god! Sirius stood upright. Had he actually asked you if you would rather sleep with him or Bill?! He groaned loudly to the empty room and slapped his hand to his forehead causing himself to stumble back to a sitting position on his bed. “Great…” he mumbled to himself “now she’ll think you are a sleazy old man.”

He didn’t want you to see him as old and pushy he wanted you to choose him all on your own. You intrigued him, you had the moment you walked into your first order meeting. He was, at that point in time, too caught up in his own worries to see it but now he reasoned you had always turned his head. What was it about you? He didn’t know but he wanted to find out. He hoped you could like him, you certainly made him want things, things he had let go since Azkaban but were now popping up and bursting into his subconscious like bubbles in a champagne glass.

He hadn’t felt this light in a long time and it wasn’t just the weight of having the wizarding world unfairly think he was a traitor and a murderer lifted from his shoulders – he had come to terms with that years ago. It was you. You were intelligent, funny, and kind. He liked hearing your take on things and you had definitely proved yourself a capable auror if your mission reports were anything to go by. It was more than that though…

Thinking of last night and how he made you laugh until you were gasping for breath made him want to do other things for you that left you breathless. He couldn’t just come out and ask you – he still felt the age gap and did not want to pressure you – instead he thought he would show you the man he could be and hope that you would see him, really see him beyond the façade of his, admittedly, good looks and reputation.

Sirius laced his fingers together and stretched his arms in front of him dropping his head he looked down and was surprised but pleased to see a hard bulge in his pants: morning wood. The lack of interest in life in general his member had showed these days was a major tell tale sign that no matter how good the physical progress he made, he was still mentally trapped in Azkaban’s clutches.

Sirius smiled to himself, he got up, undressed, and walked to the bathroom; this was going to be a good day. He took his time in the shower letting the hot water jets massage his shoulders, hummed Aretha Franklin’s ‘Respect’ as he scrubbed his body and of course, he thought of you.

— — —

Over the next few weeks you noticed a change in Sirius. It started with a smile here and there, looks that lingered a little too long and the briefest of touches; a hand lightly on the small of your back as he moved passed you, an elbow nudging your arm when he joked which now come to think of it was more than frequent. He was friendlier, warmer, and showing you much more attention.

It wasn’t just you affected by this new demeanour. The change in Sirius since his Ministry declaration of freedom was palpable. Order meetings had become everyone’s favourite day of the week. Not only had the company improved, the meals were delicious – if he wasn’t the perfect host before, Grimmauld Place had turned into the height of hospitality, and that man could cook. From grilled salmon, to honey soy ribs, roast chicken, glazed ham, and buttered potatoes. “Sirius this is the best one so far” said Kingsley satisfactorily patting his stomach after finishing an entrée of white wine and garlic mussels as he sat round the grand dinning table at Grimmauld Place one Wednesday night.

“Appreciate it mate, what did you think Y/N.” Sirius turned to you seated at the middle of the dinning table.

It was perhaps unfortunate that at this precise moment you had taken a mouthful and unsuccessfully tried to swallow and answer Sirius at the same time. In your haste you coughed and spluttered before being able to respond with a raspy “It was really good Sirius.” While Arthur Weasley patted you on the back.

Sirius’ grey eyes sparkled and a slow smile formed on his lips. This was one of those times when he looked at you for too long to be considered decent. Aware of your reddening face you turned away.

Try and hold yourself together Y/N otherwise it is going to be a long night! You internally scolded yourself. You had a mission to complete tonight and not an easy one. It was going to be dangerous enough without you starting to choke on your words every time Sirius spoke to you. He had joined you and other Order members on missions for two weeks now, however tonight was going to be just you and him, and you better keep it together and stay cool out there.

———

“How many do you see?” Sirius’ whispered breath caught in the night air.

Lying on your stomach behind a wall of shrubbery you glanced around the fenced park at the shadows of people appearing around you and answered, “five in total: one on your left, two at my 4 O’Clock and two at the park entrance straight ahead of that huge oak.”

As missions go this was by far the most exciting (an dangerous) you had been on. As a junior auror and Order member, you had primarily been sent on reconnaissance missions. Now you had ‘graduated’ to full on stakeouts. This meant tracking and tagging known Death Eater operations, recording their movements and trying to stay out of sight. A rule which didn’t always go to plan.

Graduating to this level of mission also put you in league with the big boys. You were now looking at missions where you would be joining Sirius, Remus, Bill, and Kingsley but tonight was just you and Sirius. Apart from the increasing crush you had on him, Sirius was your favourite Order Member, he was a wealth of knowledge in defence and combat and was more than happy to share some with you. Without a doubt you had learnt more from him in two weeks than two years of auror training.

“Two at the park entrance?” He repeated. “The only inconspicuous exit out of here? If they are Death Eaters then so much for keeping a low profile…ok what should we do Y/N”

~

This was why you loved working with Sirius, he figured that the best way to learn was on the job so every mission you completed with him he treated you like the boss and helped guide you when you were unsure. So far it had been working out well and your tactical skills had improved dramatically. You knew he was building your confidence bit by bit and you appreciated it immensely.

You asked Sirius after an order meeting one night if he minded “tutoring” you, would he not prefer a more ‘seasoned’ partner? He laughed at your term and shook his head swatting his hand back and forth as if waving your concern from the air. He told you his help was payback from the loan of your music collection. - After finding out he loved music from the 70s you went home and raided your fathers shelves for all his classics, Motown to The Rolling Stones. Sirius was delighted and had made his way through most of the old records already. If truth be told Sirius helped you more on missions because seeing you was the favourite part of his day, he really enjoyed your company, actually he more than enjoyed it, he sought it out; offering to complete mission reports with you, suggesting Remus and Tonks stay for a nightcap after meetings in the hope you would too. Even popping into the Ministry with coffee on his way into town just to see you for a minute.

Sirius’ initial intrigue of you was growing in to something much bigger. Sometimes Remus caught his friend looking at you too long or watching the clock tick before Order meetings commenced and he shook his head with alarm. It wasn’t unusual for Sirius to get hooked on a woman but these idle crushes tended to stay as they were, brief moments of lust and like before moving into the next adventure. That’s how he had lived his life before Azkaban. However that was 17 years ago, now he was operating without wires, confused, comparing everything he felt as a 21 year old and it wasn’t adding up. He shouldn’t be thinking of you this much? Memorising your favourite meal to prepare for missions, figuring out that you bit your bottom lip when you are nervous or accidentally finding himself smelling perfumes at a muggle department store to see if he can pick the exact one you wear the same one that made is eyes cloud over with desire and urge him to grab you by the waist and kiss you in front of everyone. He was losing it Sirius thought to himself. He was falling in love thought Remus.

~

Whether this was true or not, it was that very perfume Sirius was inhaling as you both lay on the damp earth peering over a collection of topiary while waiting for you to think of an escape plan.

“We have one main instruction. Regardless of who these men are, do not get our faces seen.” You turned to Sirius. “If we do they will know we have tracked this place and will move locations or speed up their plans before we can intercept, we cannot apparate or they’ll hear it.” You swallowed slowly. While turning to look straight ahead. “We are going to have to try to sneak out of here without magic and without being seen.”

You raised your self to crouching position and Sirius did the same.

Pointing at the large old Oak in the South East corner of the park you breathed “Let’s get behind that tree and make a dash for it when they aren’t looking” You took Sirius’ nod as approval of your plan and stated to move. Looking around you beckoned Sirius to quickly sprint to the cover of the tree’s thick trunk.

Catching your breath you queried, “Why are supposed Death Eaters congregating in a private Park in the middle of London? Only Muggles and residents use this space.”

“They are guarding something and are on the look out for interference judging by the magic- alerts they have placed around the area. Easier to spot wizards in the middle of muggle residents.” He pointed up to several rippling vapers circling the air above the park.

You groaned. You hadn’t noticed these, they would trigger if any unaccounted for magic was used therefore rendering yourself and Sirius at a disadvantage. Perhaps this was why you were selected for this mission – as a muggleborn, you were thought to deal better without magic than other non-muggleborn members. That is a question for another day you reasoned internally as you both settled behind the safety of the tree. It truly was grand, at least four metres thick and who knows how many feet tall.

While Sirius was peering around the side of the trunk you whispered “all we have to do is make it 20-30 metres to that entrance, cross the street and apparate outside the magi-alarms boundaries – preferably out of sight line.” You bit your lip looking at Sirius’ back, god he was well formed: broad shoulders, tall, and from the look of his forearms; muscled under his clothes. Shaking that thought from your mind you pressed further, “What are they doing?” Sirius had clocked the two people standing at the entrance but he still wasn’t close enough to establish if they were indeed Death Eaters. They seemed to be just talking.

“I can’t get a good visual.” he said without taking his eyes of the targets.

“Well is there a chance they that are muggles and we can just walk past like we were taking a night time stroll?” Although you already knew the answer.

Sirius gave you a side smile before gazing back at the direction of your only escape route. “I’d like to think that too, but given the magi-alarms and the fact there are three others prowling over north west side of the park I’d say they are definitely Death Eaters….I’m just not sure which ones. If I could get a closer look then we’d know what kind of operation we are dealing with.”

You had learnt that the bigger and badder the Death Eater, the more important and seriously dangerous their operation. It stemmed from trafficking illegal potions to patrolling the residents’ of Imperious curse victims.

Sirius turned around, back against the trunk next to you. “I think we will be able to sneak out the right side of the entrance, they have moved down towards the parked car on the left, if we could only see their faces to report back.” As he stroked his jaw a twig cracked somewhere in the distance in front of you. You looked at each other. The same thought flashing across each other’s face – there was a sixth man. Fuuuuuuuck!

Adrenaline surged through and your training kicked in allowing you the clarity to take stock of the situation: you were two people in a park at night, dressed as muggles with hidden- but still at the ready- wands. You couldn’t risk being seen, you needed to blend in and become muggles. Or at least appear as such. But how? This was London, many muggles liked to stroll in the park but not usually at night. The only people you had ever seen at the park at night were homeless men, teenagers sipping on a bottle of their parents Christmas sherry and…couples.

You got it. But oh god…how in the utter heck could you do it? The sounds of someone approaching we’re getting louder now and there was nowhere to hide nearby without definitely giving yourselves away. You had to just go for it. Grabbing Sirius’ arm, an arm that was mere millimetres away from his wand, you pulled him until he was standing in front of you. Backed up against the tree trunk you looked at him and quickly muttered “I know this will seem an odd request right now but could you please kiss me?”

- - -

Tag list: @aboutpotter @songforhema @sirius-lysad

[btsmutimagines]

Vow

*swamped with homework and feelings and managed to shell this out a month late…I’m a mess™*

Request:  Hii can i have a drabble thingy game with jimin?TY😙😉 12,23 by  rebelliousjvmin

Word Count: 8.6k

He’s a literal angel

You were immersed in a deep sleep, tired from working on a large project that was worth half your grade. In you attempt to disconnect from the world around and sleep peacefully, you blocked out the sounds and all touch with reality. The sudden dip in your bed didn’t bother you, the presence of another body and an arm haphazardly wrapping around you, these were things you were blocking out. Until you felt a finger on your cheek.

“Hey, roomie.”

“I hate you.”

“You know you love me.”

“Kiss my ass, Jimin.” You used to think you were lucky to be paired up with your best friend in the dorms of your university. Until you realized he was a clingy, sassy and messy guy that never failed to annoy you. His leisure attitude towards school was opposite to your dedication to reading every word of your textbook. He was a jock, baseball being the reason he was here in your room and cheekily smiling at you.  

“I wouldn’t mind doing that.” You whacked him in the face with your pillow, wanting him to leave your room but he instead pulled you closer against his chest.

“Let go of me, you pervert.”

“You told me to kiss your ass, now…”

“I swear to god, Jimin, I’ll suffocate you in your sleep.”

“Kinky. I always wanted to test out breath play.”

“You’re impossible.” You got up, wondering why you had done so earlier and left your room. He trailed behind you, you settling on the couch and he sat next to you.

“What do you want, you annoying ass?”

“I can’t sleep in the same bed as my best friend now? We used to do it all time as kids.”

“That was when we were young and innocent.”

“I’m still inno-” You gave him a knowing look; he was anything but innocent.

His history of making girls fight; break up lifelong friendships just because they slept with Jimin without telling the other about it. You were immune to this disease, somehow being the other girl that’s close to him without sleeping with him. Unfortunately, it meant girls used you to get close to him or blamed you as to why he won’t be committed.

“I’m at least young. Unlike you, you’ve aged like 5 years with all that reading.”

“It must be nice to have so much empty space in your head.”

“Rude.”

“Learned from the best.”

“You hang out with Yoongi hyung too much.” You looked away, trying to stop yourself from getting flustered just at the mention of his name.

You had a crush on Yoongi, who was two years your senior. He was a Photography and Print media student, taking on a double major and you admire his work ethic. You met him while he was taking a nature shoot, taking a photo of the tulips that you planted in the greenhouse. You being a part of the Garden club meant mostly morning duty and making sure, every plant was watered every morning. Maybe expect the succulents, those rarely need any water.

He said you looked good with the tulips, making you stammer out a thank you before he inquired you about the other plants in the greenhouse. You babbled about the plants, telling him your favourites and letting him touch some. He thanked you for expanding his knowledge on plants, leaving you to water. Yoongi began to show up regularly at the greenhouse every morning, wanting his daily plant fact and you started to reading up plant facts just for him.

“He’s a lot nicer than you are.”

“That is not true. I’m an angel.”

“Just because your mom says you are doesn’t mean you are.”

“Do you see the way she speaks to me, Fernando?”

“Are you talking to my fern?” You turned to the fern that you placed in the left corner of the room, the only plant that you were allowed to bring. It was a lovely plant, its vibrant green leaves never failing to lighten up any room.

“At least Fernando doesn’t hurt me like you do.”

“I’m going back to bed.”

“Can I join you?”

“How about you and Fernando have a one on one instead?” You went back to your room, this time locking the door and getting much needed sleep. Your period of peaceful slumber was interrupted by the sound of your friend Taehyung giggling. Jesus fucking-

“Can you two shut the hell up?” You swung your door open, seeing all your friends seated in the living room. They all stared at you, you weakly smiling.

“Feisty.” Hoseok said, making your face burn with embarrassment as Yoongi glanced at you for a moment.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed.” Namjoon said before being elbowed by Jin,

“So, that’s what you look like in shorts..”

“I know I’m the only girl that wants to get close to you, Jungkook but I rather not have you staring at my legs.”

“Ouch.”

“Do you need ice for that burn?”

“No, he needs liquid nitrogen to cool that.” You rolled your eyes at Jimin and Taehyung’s commentary between the two of them, walking over to the only open spot in the living room. Being sandwiched between Jimin and Yoongi, your knees touching his and you were more conscious of how underdressed you were. Yoongi wouldn’t look your way, focused on the show they were watching and Jimin rested his head in your lap.

“Jimin.”

“Your thighs are so comfy.”

“I think your head’s too heavy.” He pinched the bare skin on your thighs, making you retaliate by flicking his forehead.

“Ow.”

“Deserved it.”

“My head is of perfect weight, okay. You’re just insensitive.”

“And you’re just annoying.”

“Ssh, I’m trying to watch my ship. Argue in the bedroom, lovebirds.”

“I’m out of his league, anyways.”

“I think you’re wrong about that, Mother Nature.”

“Don’t think so, Thunder Thighs. Now, hush.” You brought a finger to your lips, trying to focus on the screen. Taehyung watched attentively, his supposed ship currently sinking as the pair had a overdramatic fight on screen.

“She’s not even that great.” Jimin mumbled, you agreeing with him as the show continued.

“She’s kinda overrated, right?”

“Plus she has bitch written on her forehead with her spoiled brat attitude.”

“Kinda like Kookie.”

“Exactly like Kookie.”

“You know I can hear you two-”

“Shush!” You and Jimin did simultaneously, Jungkook giving you both a sour look.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong, Yoongi?”

“I got a meeting in 20 minutes. I’ll be going.” He quickly got up, pulled his jacket off the coat rack before leaving.

“You know staring at the door isn’t going to make him come back.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.” You grabbed a handful of popcorn, stuffing Jimin’s mouth. Part of you wished he’d choke on it, but you couldn’t say you weren’t relieved when you saw him chewing.

“I can’t believe my ship sunk.”

“Their relationship was like the titanic.”

“It’s okay, Tae.” You patted his back and he stuffed his face with cheese puffs. The usual array of snacks filled the coffee table, chips, popcorn, pop, Oreos-

“Wait. Jungkook, are you eating my Oreos?”

“No…” He said after quickly licking the cream off your favourite Oreos, double stuffed. You always kept your stash hidden; knowing Jimin was one to eat anything in his reach when he was feeling lazy. Jungkook, on the other hand, would a whole box in one sitting if you’d let him.

“You have 10 seconds before my fists double stuff your mouth.”

“I almost forgot to wash my turtle? I’ll be going now!” He scrambled out the door, the other guys laughed as you clench your fist.

“He tests my patience.”

“You live with Jimin, how do you still have any?” Hoseok teased, Jimin whining in response.

“Hyung!”

“You’re a handful, Jimin.”

“Geez, some kind of best friend you are.”

“Excuse me. You’re the only one who’s resting in my lap and getting their hair stroked.” It was a subconscious thing, running your fingers through Jimin’s hair. The habit has been with you since you were children, you doing when his mother left him at your house while she went on business trips.

She would gently scratch his scalp in between until he fell asleep. The action was second nature to you; sometimes you would start doing it while he ate his breakfast to his annoyance.

“There are some benefits being friends with you…”

“Get up.”

“Make me-”

“We’ll get going…” They filed out the apartment, you still bickering with Jimin until you heard the door shut.

“You made them run off.”

“Me? What about you? You don’t have an air of decency in that outfit.”

“It’s better than that time you pranced around in your boxers. Seeing the little mermaid being displayed on your crotch, so disrespectful.”

“You were staring at my dick?”

“N-No, I wasn’t staring. If anything, she was staring at me.”

“It’s okay, ______. Not many girls can resist the Chim.”

“Gross.”

“Don’t fight it, baby.”

“Stay away from me, you pervert.” You pushed him away from you, walking into the kitchen and internally groaning when he followed you.

“I know you want me, ______.”

“I want you to fuck off.” You turned to leave when he wrapped his arms around you. You squirmed, his hands beginning to tickle you.

“Jimin!”

You went to the greenhouse, seeing Yoongi leaning against the glass dome and you waved, as you got closer.

“Daily plant fact?”

“Bamboo is the fastest growing plant; it can grow 35 inches in a day.”

“That’s a lot to grow in one day.”

“They’re pretty cool.” There was a bit of awkward silence between the two of you, you usually had nothing to say after your plant facts. You didn’t trust yourself to not say something utter stupid and Yoongi only had a lot to say if he was interested in something which, in itself was rare.

“Say, do you have class after this?”

“No, why?”

“I want to show you something.” You fought back a large smile, nodding and beginning to water the plants. Yoongi was kind enough to help you out, him watering the plants just a bit more than necessary but you let it go.

“Come on.” He grabbed your wrist, pulling you out the greenhouse and you burned up to the body contact he made with you. His rough fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist, he managed to heat up your whole body with the simple touch.

He stopped abruptly, making you crouch with him as you try to find what he was showing you.

“Do you see it?”

“See what?” He placed his hand on either side of your cheeks, turning your head to look in the direction he wanted. Your cheeks attempted to retain the shape of his fingers slightly indented in them, the close proximity to Yoongi making you lose your ability at being logical and sensible.

Your eyes gaze upon the small family of bunnies, their grey fur making them stick out like a sore thumb.

“They’re so cute.”

“I was on one of my nature runs, just taking shots in this field when I see a little family of bunnies. I thought you would appreciate their cuteness.”

“Well, you thought right…” He led you out of the field, returning to familiar grounds and stopped in his tracks. He turned to you slightly, making eye contact with you before speaking.

“Well, I got class. See ya, ______.” He gave your hair a quick ruffle before he left, leaving you and the pasture all to yourselves. The walk back to the dorm was a long one, your lack of progress with Yoongi weighing you down.

You opened the door, seeing Jimin lying down on the couch with his hair clipped back with cucumber over his eyes and avocado on his face.

“Back so soon?”

“You better not get any avocado on my couch, Jimin.”

“Someone’s snippy. What, did Yoongi skip out on you again?”

“It’s not again. He goes to class, Jimin, unlike some people.”

“I go to my necessary courses.”

“That’s like 2 out of 5, Jimin.”

“Surprise appearances?”

“It’s sad watching you try to save yourself.”

“It’s sad watching you try to get Yoongi.”

“You little-”

“I say this with love, Yoongi doesn’t like you. He’s already married to photography.”

“Some kind of supportive friend you’re supposed to be.”

“The truth hurts, child.” You rolled your eyes, walking into the kitchen and grabbing a bagel. You slab on some cream cheese and grab a yogurt cup, returning to the living room.

“Sometimes I think they did pair me up with a girl.”

“I don’t have to be a girl to be prettier than you.”

“Excuse me.”

“You’re excused.”

“At least I don’t look like a swamp monster at the moment.”

“Sweetie, you should see yourself after you wake up. You’ll make ol Nessie hide in fear.”

“I really hate you.”

“Love you too.” Of course, you could count on Jimin to annoy you to the point that you forget that you were happy meeting Yoongi this morning.

You didn’t know that you could be so dense, not noticing that Yoongi always happened to have an excuse before leaving whenever you were around. It occurred often, his thought out excuse like a built in phrase that was programmed in him.

You decide to confront him, knowing he hates confrontations but it was the only way to get him to speak up.

You knew he rarely left his apartment when he had days off, the perfect opportunity to corner the truth out of him. You’ve been over there, always with one of the guys being in the room. Now, it felt different. The deep blue door with his apartment number taunted you, your confidence wearing thin but it was too late to run when your fist made contact with the door.

“Oh, ______. What’s up?”

“I just wanted to pay you a visit.” He let you in, his apartment looked more barren than you last remembered. Then again, Yoongi wasn’t an interior designer, in fact you were the one that picked out his paint colours.

“An unannounced visit? That’s unlike you.”

“I just have something to get off my chest.”

“What is it?”

“Why are you avoiding me, Yoongi? Even now, you can’t look into my eyes.” He went mum, the eerie silence making you begin to regret even showing up.

“You make me feel guilty.”

“Guilty?”

“I know you like me, ______. And I can’t keep pretending that I don’t.” Of course, he knew how could he not? It didn’t take an idiot to figure that out.

“So you decided it was better to just ignore me? Just sweep my feelings under the rug and hope that they would just disappear?”

“This isn’t the time to fall in love with me. I’m going abroad, ______.”

“Abroad?”

“My professor offered me a spot overseas and I took it.”

“You were never going to tell me, were you? Just one day, I won’t see you again and you don’t have to deal with my pathetic feelings for you.”

“I don’t see you the way you see me. I couldn’t even if I tried, you’re just you.” It felt like a knife to the heart, every words from his lips simply another twist of the sharp blade. He looked away as your heart silently bled and all you could do was keep up a front long enough to make it home.

“I don’t want to see you at all.”

“I understand.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” You grabbed your jacket, rushing out the apartment and running back home. You entered your room, seeing Jimin spread out like a starfish and you sighed. At least one of you had some peaceful morning.

“______?” His voice was husky; you just walked over to the other side of the bed and settled yourself under the covers. Your back faced him as you left a silent stream of tears hit your pillow.

“You talked to him, huh?” You nodded.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head, knowing your words will fail you if you spoke.

“Let’s just sleep, alright?” He didn’t need a response from you, his arms wrapping around yours and you tried your best to not violently sob. He cooed at you, singing your favourite song in your ear and trying to calm you down.

You eventually fell asleep, wishing that you never had to wake up ever again. Sleeping made it hurt less, sleeping meant you didn’t have to feel as long as you could.

“Are you alright?”

“Leave me alone, Jimin…”

“It’s been three weeks and you haven’t eaten a thing.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“Don’t you have class?”

“Don’t you?” He countered; his sassy repertoire showing. You could tell he soften by the hand over your head, caressing the crown of your head.

“I don’t feel like going.”

“I know.”

“I just want to sleep, Jimin.”

“But you can’t.”

“You sound just like him.”

“I’m not him. I wouldn’t do the same thing he did.”

“He was just going to leave me behind. Leave me alone like this and put himself somewhere I couldn’t touch him. Somewhere I can’t reach him, somewhere that my feelings can’t exist in.”

“I’ll stay by your side, ______.”

“That’s a lie, Jimin.”

“I won’t abandon you. I won’t let you slip away so easily. I want to be by your side, ______. Forget Yoongi, stop looking at him and just look at me from now on.” You turned over to look at him, his hands on his lap as he looked down.

“Let me take your hand.”

You opened your eyes, Jimin being the first thing you see and you were taken back. He was smiling at you, his hand already settled on your cheek as his thumb brush against your ear before his hand dropped to your shoulder.

“W-What are you doing?”

“Morning.”

“Morning? Jimin-” He put his finger on your lips, winking at you before skipping out your room. Is he drunk? You went to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and going back to your room.

“Fucking weirdo.” You muttered, cuddling into your covers and he came back with a tray. He pulled the chair from your desk and set the tray on your bedside table.

“I make a pretty hot nurse, don’t I?”

“No.”

“What a cold patient. Maybe I need to raise the heat.” He cut up a pancake, putting a piece in some syrup before bringing it close to your lips.

“I can feed myself, Jimin.”

“Let me do my job as your hot nurse.”

“You’re not-” He stuffed the pancake in your mouth, watching you as you chewed and he continued until the plate was all that was left. There was milk on the tray as well and you sat up, holding you hand out.

“I can do it.”

“Are you sure you can manage?”

“Jimin, I’m not fragile.”

“Yes, you are. Fragile things tend to be quite precious…” He whispered the last bit, recovering with a smile and giving you the glass. You drank the whole glass, knowing Jimin would tilt whatever you wanted to leave over into your mouth with an unsettling smirk.

“Next on the agenda, you getting out of bed.”

“Not happening.” He huffed, you sticking your tongue out like a child. He tried to pull the covers from you, a tug war beginning and you refused to let go. You ended up standing on the bed as he tried to rip the covers from your stubborn grip.

“Let go, Jimin.”

“You let go.”

“This isn��t going to end pretty if you don’t let go.”

“You know what,” he let go of the covers, you falling into the mattress from the sudden release and he picked you up. You hit him as he carried you out your room, putting you in the living room and shutting your door. You could hear the click of the door, knowing he locked the door and he came back in whistling, the key around his neck.

“Can you at least give me a smile?”

“I’ll smile at your funeral.”

“Your sharp tongue can’t soften, can it?”

“I want to be allowed to mop alone in peace.”

“No moping, not on my watch any longer.” You groaned, Jimin sitting next to you and wrapped an arm around you. He turned on the tv, logging into Netflix and handed you the remote.

“It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re not going to regret, are you?”

“What kind of nurse would I be if I did?”

“Great.” You picked a movie you knew he hated, The Room. He cursed under his breath, you smirking as he pretended to be into the movie.

“God, this movie is so shit.”

“What was that, Jiminie?”

“This movie is the shit. I mean it’s so amazing.”

“What’s your favourite part?”

“When the credits started rolling.” He said without hesitation, you stifling a laugh and he glanced at you.

“The things I do for you.”

“I feel a bit better.”

“My soul hurts, ______. I need some healing.”

“My poor child.” He removed his arm, resting his head on your shoulder instead and you pat his ear.

“Can I have an Oreo?”

“You’re not dying, Jimin.”

“It feels like I am.” You rolled your eyes, cracking a small smile and he poked your cheek.

“Do you have a death wish?”

“I missed your smile, ______.”

“Don’t be so damn dramatic…” You mumbled, fighting off the sudden surge of heat and flustered energy that overcame you. Why did he have to say stuff like that?

“I’m not.”

“You must’ve been dropped as a child.” He flicked your cheek, you twisting his nipple in return. You immediately regretted it when he moaned in your ear; your reflex was to shove him off you. You seek refuge in the kitchen, Jimin smoky following you as usual.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You’re the one experimenting with my body; I didn’t even know these were sensitive. Just for as safe measure, why don’t-”

“Choke, Jimin.”

“We can try that next.”

You managed to get him to let you back in bed, unfortunately having him following you inside and clinging to your body.

“You’re pretty warm, ______…”

“I’m not actually cold blooded, Jimin.”

“I know, it’s just like the warmth your radiate. It’s comforting.”

“C-Can we just sleep?”

“As you wish.” You closed your eyes, trying to sleep but you could only lie awake. Jimin was acting different, there was still his usual tone but there was something underneath it. Something behind all his actions.

“Not sleeping?”

“Caught red handed.”

“What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

“Lying isn’t cute, ______.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be cute.”

“That’s cool too. You can be anything.”

“What the hell has gotten into you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just- never mind.”

“Then, falling asleep take two.”

The only weird one is you, you’re letting some douchebag that didn’t care about you take over your life. You should be outside, showing him that he hadn’t shattered you, that you can live without him, that you’re strong enough to walk on your own two feet.

You didn’t need someone like him.

You were better, actually communicating with other people besides Jimin and falling back into your life. Jimin still worried as usual but tried his best to keep you afloat.

He pulled out to various places, taking you to the Han River to add to his arsenal of Pokémon. You teased about being the only person on earth that still plays that game, in response he vowed never to give you a Vulpix if he ever caught one.

“Jimin, you don’t mean that, do you?”

“This pain you’ve caused, it must be paid,”

“Forgive me.”

“On one condition.”

“What is it?”

“For the next month, respond to everything I ask you with ‘yes’.” You should have told him to piss off, he could literally say to strip and you would be obligated to say ‘yes’. You knew what he was like during his random spikes in his hormones.

The next morning resulted in Jimin having his hair tousled, his neck having one of two purple bruises and his mind dazed when you ask him to wash up. You’ve become dull to that side of him but it’s beginning to bother you.

The thought of Jimin pressing his body against a nameless stranger whose name only mattered in the moment. His hands cupping their thighs, his tongue running hotly down their torso as his eyes watch them wilt away under his lustful touch. His lips knowingly teasing his choice for the night, the whines and whimpers that leave their lips after he gives into them.

He would indulge into the taste, collecting every drop as if they were the only thing he’s tasted all day. How delectable of a lover could Jimin be?

You shook your head, wanting your lust driven thoughts to leave your mind at once. This was Jimin you were thinking about, the boy you grew up with. He was always clumsy, silly and stupid, always rushing to your side when he could.

He would get hurt, trying to protect you and you hated knowing that he’s doing it for you. He said he didn’t care, not wanting anyone treat like you were less than what you were.

“Hey, buttercup.” He sat next to you on the sofa, you were just reading a book before he decided to mess up your hair and draw in your attention.

“Don’t remember being Ms. Han’s cat.” Ms. Han was the old babysitter in your hometown; she was a widow and filled the void with her cat, Buttercup. Buttercup was a lazy old cat as well, only seeming to have energy when a dog was around or Jimin happened to be close by. Buttercup hated him.

“You remind me of her. Afraid of heights and still climbed trees, always scratching me whenever I’m in sight and pretending to be innocent even when Ms. Han saw you scratch me.”

“Have ill will to the cat, not me. I was the one who put the bandages on you every time Buttercup got you.”

“You were my hot nurse back then, huh?”

“I was anything but hot, Jimin. I had a stupid bowl cut.”

“It was cute.” He covered his lips, his cheeks slightly puffed out and you hit him with a cushion. Your mother had an unfortunate obsession with bowl cuts, making sure you had that same haircut until your dad finally convinced her to let your hair grow out. You never looked back since, although your mom still asks you to get one once in awhile.

“Why the hell are you laughing, you dick?”

“N-Nothing.” He was holding his phone at an angle, you quickly snatching it from his hands and seeing a photo of you with that dreadful haircut.

“Where the hell did you get this?” You pushed him down into the sofa, making him lie down and you crawled on top of him. You pulled him up by his shirt, looking angrily into his eyes.

“Your mom sent it to me-”

“How could she?”

“I asked for it.”

“You what?”

“I wasn’t kidding about you being cute with that haircut.”

“I’m not cute.”

“You’re right; you’re adorable.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Hey, ______. You mind getting off me…?” His tone changed, his words breathless and you moved back. The reason for his breathlessness being the erection currently rubbing against your butt.

“Don’t..”

“Did you seriously just get hard?”

“I can’t help it, okay? Your shirt is cut pretty low and your stare is pretty hot.”

“Fucking pervert.” You slipped off him, scurrying to your room and screaming into your pillow.

Did the thought of Jimin being turned on by you actually turn you on?

“______~”

“Jesus Christ, don’t call my name like that. Gives me chills.” You were in the midst of reading a textbook, the lack of photos boring you but you had no choice but to read.

“The good kind, right?”

“What the hell is the good kind of chills?”

“Allow me to demonstrate.” His breath was hot against your exposed nape, his fingertips smoothed over the arch of your back and chills ran down your spine.

“Didn’t you learn to keep your hands to yourself?”

“Wanna teach me that?”

“Leave.”

“Don’t think so. Let’s go out tonight.”

“It’s Wednesday.”

“So, the parties don’t stop because of Wednesday.”

“Take Tae or something.”

“He’d get drunk too.”

“The last thing I want is to deal with your drunk ass in a crowded room.”

You spoke too soon. He used his stupid puppy dog eyes on you, almost immediately caving in and going to this stupid party. Drunk college kids without a care about outcomes tangled up with others, kissing, giggling, and running off with each other.

This behaviour is warranted, especially since it was one of Jimin’s teammates on the team. The lucky host currently on his couch, allowing a girl to touch freely where she wanted.

You on the other hand couldn’t give into the vibe, keeping Jimin close by you so you wouldn’t have to go searching for him and find him sandwich between someone. You knew Jimin had no boundaries, freely sleeping with anyone, girl or guy.

“______~ Dance.” You’ve managed to understand him, having being around him while he was drunk to make out what he was trying to say.

“No.”

“Come on, dance.” He whined into your shoulder, you didn’t expect the sudden weight, stumbling along with him but held him up as best you could.

“You’re like a toddler. Fine.” He stood up straight, pulling you into the den where the music was playing. His hands trailed down to your hips, the sway following the beat closely. You were glad he was content with just the swaying of your hips, his glazed eyes trying to focus on you.

“Closer.” You stepped in a little, wanting to keep some distance until he turned you around. He held you tight, your ass against his crotch and his hands gripping your hips roughly.

“J-Jimin.”

“Can’t let anyone pull you away from me.” He growled in your ear, the intensity of his words making your legs feel like Jell-O. This wasn’t a side of him you’ve seen often, his aggressive approach when he was drunk. There were times when you caught on him in the corner of the room, his lips roughly against someone’s neck and their body pressed harshly against a wall.

Now, you wished you were on the receiving end of that gesture, a thought you knew was wrong to have but it was hard to keep out.

Jimin’s hand seeped close to your thighs, the pads of his fingers brushing against your clothed thigh and it shocked you out of your thoughts.

“Stop, Jimin.” You weakly said, pulling away from him and walking away. If it lasted any longer, you would have given in. Let him ravage your body like the others and disappear like a phantom. It would ruin the balance in your life, Jimin being a state of betweenness. Sleeping together would have changed things, things that should just left alone.

So, you walked off until you reached a park and sat on a swing. The shadowy figures of an empty playground disappeared under the moonlight, its light kissing your skin gently and you felt the presence of someone sitting in the swing next to you.

“Are you okay?”

“Did you follow me?”

“Couldn’t leave a pretty girl like you, wandering down the streets.”

“I’m not one of those girls, Jimin. It’s me.”

“I know, it’s you ______.”

“Then why did you feel me up?”

“Blame it on the alcohol.”

“This is why I don’t like when you drink.”

“ ‘M sorry.”

“Maybe I won’t press changes for sexual assault.”

“Was it really unwanted? I mean, look at me.”

“Try that defence in court, pervert.” He laughed a little, your heart hopping to the sound. He was stunning in the moonlight, his perfectly shaped lips taunting you. His blonde hair shone, mimicking a platinum blonde and his brown eyes sparkled. You caught yourself, knowing he would make a suggestive comment about your staring and you didn’t have the willpower to stop whatever may come next.

“Race down the slide?”

“You bet your drunk ass I will.”

At first, you just thought your lustful illusions were from your sex drive but it doesn’t explain why Jimin made your heart race. Why you didn’t like to sleep with him right next to you. Or why his smile brighten up your mood.

That’s why you called in an expert.

“You have a bad case of the love bug.”

“Shut up, Taehyung.” Okay, he wasn’t exactly an “expert” but he knew you well enough.

“When was the last time you’ve thought of Yoongi hyung?”

“About three months ago…”

“Ironically, you’ve spend those months with none other than Jimin. You fell for him, girl.”

“I never thought you would make sense, Tae.”

“Hey. I’m not an airhead, ______.”

“I know, you’re just energetic and two spoonfuls of crazy but you’re right about something.”

“You really love your backhanded compliments.”

“It’s my speciality.”

“So when are you going to tell him?”

“Never.”

“______.”

“First of all, Jimin and commitment don’t mix. I know sometimes he makes flirtatious quips but they’re just jokes, he’s not into me. Plus, why should I want more than I already have?”

“Love isn’t always selfish. I know you two grew up together, knowing every detail about the other and being by each other’s side. Jimin isn’t Yoongi, he’s not going to disappear because you like him differently,”

I wouldn’t do what he did. I won’t abandon you. I want to be by your side, ______.

“I’ll think about it.”

You knew he could tell your nervous energy, your mind going haywire whenever he was around.

Jimin was being Jimin, making you frazzled and bothered at the same time. He pulled you out of your room, dragging you to the convenience store for late night ramen and you watched him run around the store like an overgrown child.

“Jimin, can’t you sit?”

“Sitting is boring.”

“What the fuck did you eat?”

“I found Jungkook’s stash of candy in his dorm. There was so much.”

“You’re hopping more than the energizer bunny.”

“Bunnies are so cute. Kookie’s a pretty cute bunny.”

“Jungkook is far from being a bunny. Not with that muscle.”

“I got muscles too.”

“Now that I think about it, his ass is pretty firm.”

“Mine is bigger.”

“Yeah, it must be fun trying to find a seat to accommodate your ass.”

“At least, it looks better. It looks the best when it’s bare though.” He shot you a wink, heat pooling between your legs and you cleared your throat with the uncomfortable squeezing of your thighs.

“Don’t wink at me like that. Jungkook has pretty good thighs too.”

“Please, have you seen mine? Girls go nuts riding them.” The food was ready, you handing Jimin his bowl and you holding your own back to the seats at the storefront window.

“They would go nuts if they had to live with you most of their lives.”

“Yeah, they wouldn’t believe that they live with the modern day Adonis.”

“I want to understand your point of view but my head can’t go that far up my own ass.”

“I’m a delight.”

“Just eat.” You ate your ramen, each bite making you want another bowl but Jimin was pulling you out the store before you could even think of another ramen flavour to taste.

“Let’s bet.”

“On what?”

“If I can make it to that light pole and back before you do, you do me a favour. No questions asked, same wager for me.”

“Pinky promise?” You held out your pinky, a childish smile on your face and he returned the gesture.

“Ready. Set,” you were both touching the starting pole before he said ‘go’. The cold whoosh of air that brush against your body as your muscles ached at the speed. Jimin had an advantage, being a baseball player and his joints trained to reach a long distance in a shorter span of time.

He plays his advantage well, reaching the light pole before you do and walks to you with a triumphant smile. You knew he was going to be boastful about it, you rolling your eyes at the thought. He walked next to you as you two found a bench to sit upon.

“I’m too fast for you, aren’t I?”

“Whatever you say, Sonic. Now, what is it?”

“Cold. Shouldn’t you be a bit nicer to me? Your mood changes what kind of favour I ask.”

“I can tell by that evil little glint in those eyes of yours, you already determined what you want from me.”

“That is true but how fast it happens is affected by your mood.”

“We don’t have all night, Jimin.”

“Fine, bossy. Just stay still, close your eyes and face me.” You did as you were told, waiting for whatever came next.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes, Jimin.” You were about to huff out a complaint when you felt his lips lightly pressing against yours. He quickly pulled back, your eyes opening and widening at the implications of what he has just done. There were times where you almost broken the boundaries of friendship, reminding yourself that it’s something that can’t easily be fixed. No matter how much you ignore the detail, it exists now.

“Jimin.”

“No questions asked. That was the deal.” He rushed out, grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him. He let go, knowing you were going to walk with him anyways and you went to your separate rooms. You didn’t know what to make of this, you couldn’t question him about it exactly or its intentions but it couldn’t continue to be the elephant in the room.

You went to bed, the worries in your head suppressed by your slumber.

The violent rumble of a thunderstorm woke you up, your eyes tiredly looking at your alarm seeing it was 3:46am. As childish it may sound, you were terrified of thunderstorms. The large boom of the thunder rang loudly in your ears, making you trembling and you tried to calm yourself down.

“I’m here.” The violent rain and thunder masked the sound of Jimin entering your room, his body hugging close to yours made real, not a figment of your imagination wanting Jimin to be comforting you.

“You’re okay, we’re okay, just breathe.”

“O-Okay.” You meekly respond, following a breathing pattern you learned in psychology and Jimin followed along with you.

“Will you be okay?”

“I think.”

“I’m just a door away, ______.” He began to unravel himself from you when you caught his arm.

“Just stay with me, please.” Your voice was soft and small, embarrassed to say those words but he just obliged and slept next to you. He tried his best not to latch onto you, strictly taking the left side of the bed and you wanted to say more.

“Good night, ______..”

“Night, Jimin.”

Despite his distance, you somehow end up facing each other and his arms wrapped around you. He was still asleep, drooling into your pillow but you couldn’t care less. You wanted to trace his body, every curve, line that made up Jimin for your own pleasure. You wanted to be the only one that saw him like this every morning and night. The only one able to see his silly side, his serious side, his funny side, his emotional side, all the sides of him that you can uncover.

You wanted every part of him. And it terrifies you.

“So squishy..” You realize his hand was atop of your butt, his fingers dug into the flesh and you squeaked when he squeezed too hard.

“Jimin, wake the fuck up.”

“Nooo.” He whined, leaning into you and your breath hitched at how close he was. You could kiss him right now; it’s an effective strategy in waking him up. In addition, you were tempted to do so since you woke up.

“Jimin.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Then let me go.”

“I can’t, you smell nice.” You laughed, the random compliment was something you didn’t expect from him but you accepted it nonetheless.

“That’s a lame excuse.”

“Good enough for me, let’s sleep.”

“It’s 2 in the afternoon.”

“And that matters because…?”

“You have practice in 20 minutes.” You counted down from three, waiting for the epiphany to happen and he shot out of bed. You walked out your room, seeing Jimin hopping out his room with his cap loosely on his head and his duffle bag on his arm.

“Aren’t you going to eat something?”

“Not enough time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, bye.” He skipped out, the door slammed shut and you sat on the chair. You felt uneasy about him leaving without any food and about to practice for 2 and a half hours…

You were on your feet, entering the kitchen and checking the fridge hopefully. Hopes were soon dashed as you saw a lone apple and some milk in the fridge. You sighed, getting dressed to go to the grocery store.

A crowd of mixed ages filled the store, making you dodge between people to grab what you wanted. You bought more Oreos for your stash, Jungkook eating up more of yours when he came over a few days ago. Jungkook skipped out the room before you could get him and Jimin easily distracted you from him.

With fresh produce in hand and a recipe in your head, you began to make Jimin’s lunch. You knew how much he loved meat, making grilled pork with sautéed vegetables, fried egg and rice. You grabbed the blue Gatorade, his favourite flavour and left the house.

You walked out to the baseball diamond, slipping past the gates and seeing Jimin practicing his swing. Tae ran over to you, a stupidly large grin on his face and you almost wanted to slap the smile off his face.

“Making love boxes now, I see.”

“It’s just food, plus he didn’t eat anything today.”

“Worried about him, huh?”

“Don’t make me punch you.”

“Aww, you don’t want to admit that you wanted to see him and needed some bait.”

“He’s not a fish.”

“Not the point. You should just tell him you like him.”

“I-”

“______, what are you doing here?”

“She brought you lunch~” He singsonged, earning a glare from you but Jimin looked at you.

“You didn’t have to; I was just going to get something with the guys.”

“I just thought it would be good to eat less takeout stuff, you know once in a while eating something from home.”

“I guess so.”

“Well, lovebirds, you two can enjoy your lunch here. The guys are waiting for me.” Taehyung ran over to the other players on the team, the other guys glancing at the two of you and making kissy faces.

“What did you make for me?”

“It’s not much…” You two sat on the bleachers; the wooden seat is what you made do with.

“I didn’t know you could be humble.”

“I’m this close to eating this myself-”

“No! You made this for me; I’m going to eat it.” He snatched the box from your hand, opening it up and grabbing the chopsticks you placed in.

“It looks perfect.”

“You don’t have to lie, Jimin.”

“I’m not. I’m just so happy you made this for me.” Your cheeks burned up, looking away and he happily munched his food. He had a piece of rice stuck to his lip, you flicking it away with your thumb.

“You eat like a little kid.” Your thumb lingered on his bottom lip and he looked at you. He cleared his throat, you removing your thumb from his lips and he resumed eating.

“I brought some Gatorade too.”

“You thought of everything.” He took it from you, chugging half the bottle and you tried to stare too much.

“You looked cool while swinging your bat, maybe you’re not a huge dork.” Way to flirt, ______.

“Can this dork teach you how to swing?”

“Sure.” He took you down to first base, picking up his bat and showing you how to stand first.

“Your feet can’t be spread too wide or too close, make sure your back foot has a bit more weight than your front foot. Flex your knees a bit too.”

“Like this?” He nodded, you trying to swing and he stopped you. He stood beside you, taking the same stance and he placed his hand atop yours. Your thoughts were clouded with the soft touch of his hands. Yours began to become clammy and you were sure he felt it too.

“You get power from swinging your hips, so just turn the weight from your back leg forwards like this.” He moved along with you, his body shifting forward and you swung the bat.

“Relax, buttercup. Don’t be so stiff.” Maybe if you don’t stand so damn close to me, I could.

“I think I got the hang of it.”

“The base is yours.” You kept his points in mind, doing as he said and swinging.

“That was really good.”

“Better watch out, I’m coming for your spot, captain.”

“First, drop the bat. Second, you wish you were as good. It’s beginner’s luck.”

“Is not.”

“Are too.”

“Is. Not.”

“Are. Too.” You two were in each other’s face at this point, both of you having your hands on your hips and sporting childish stares. Taking in the position you were in made you forget about what Jimin said, your mind going straight to kissing Jimin.

“______?” You gave into your temptation, gingerly pressing your lips against him and he froze on the spot. You moved back, meeting his shocked eyes and you ran off.

Just kissed Jimin and he froze. Maybe he regrets kissing you yesterday and couldn’t let anything fester beyond that point.

You took the bus down to Tae and Jungkook’s place, knowing that you need to tell someone. Jungkook let you in, wondering what made you come over in a hurry and you were welcomed with the sight of Tae in boxers playing Overwatch.

“Hyung, Noona’s here.”

“So soon, I thought you and Jimin would have a rendezvous.”

“Kim Taehyung.”

“You moved in from Yoongi hyung pretty fast, huh?” Jungkook added, wiggling his eyebrows and you kicked him.

“It’s not like that. And how the hell did you know I liked Yoongi?”

“Anyone with eyes knows you did. Just like we know you like Jimin.”

“Did something happen?”

“Kinda…”

“Kinda?”

“Cover your ears, Jungkook.”

“I’m not a kid.”

“Shush, the adults are talking.” He rolled his eyes at you, turning back to the game and you pulled Taehyung into their kitchenette.

“I…We kissed twice.”

“You made progress.” He wiped fake tears, you rolling your eyes at his dramatics.

“But he just froze. I can’t even ask him about it.”

“Why not?”

“It was a wager.”

“That is not a kiss, ______. He has to kiss you because he wants to in the right moment, not some stupid bet.”

“You’re more worked up about it than me.”

“You suck at emotions, child.”

“Not true.”

“Hey, Kookie, is ______ good at expressing herself?” Taehyung called out to Jungkook.

“She’s horrible.” He called back, Taehyung giving you a knowing look and you hugged at him.

“Fine, whatever. I can’t express myself but I know Jimin gets me.”

“Hey, Kookie.” You heard Jimin’s voice in the living room and your breath was caught in your throat.

“Speaking of the handsome devil, yo, Baby J!”

“Taehyung, what the hell are you-”

“Taehyung, I told you to stop calling me that.” Taehyung smiled mischievously, Jimin’s eyes landing on you and you failed to be inconspicuous.

“Can we talk…alone?” Taehyung winked at you, you grimacing and Jimin smiled at you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I made things pretty awkward between us, haven’t I?”

“I started it to be honest.”

“But it didn’t mean anything to you, did it?” You chewed the inside of your cheek, the pink flesh being bruised by your teeth.

“It… It did.”

“Then why did you just-”

“I thought it was no questions asked, remember?”

“You frustrate me.”

“So do you.”

“God. You picked up, made all the months that I wasted liking Yoongi disappear and confuse me to no end.”

“Confuse you about what? I’m sure about where I stand.”

“Where do you stand?”

“Wherever you want me to be, ______.”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop making me fall for you.” You muttered, he laughed a little

“Afraid I can’t help that, ______. I’ll just have to catch you every time you fall.”

“You’re so damn cheesy.”

“I know you love it, ______~” He did a little dance around you, making you laugh a little and he poked your cheeks.

“Oh, shut up.”

You woke up, seeing Jimin smiling at you and you looked away. His eyes made you nervous and he cooed at you, you wanting to hit him but he attacked you with kisses. It’s been a blissful six months, Jimin being the perfect boyfriend. Sometimes, you were convinced he was an angel in disguise.

“J-Jimin!”

“You’re so damn cute.”

“I am not cute!”

“Don’t lie to me, baby.”

“If I knew that everyone’s favourite playboy was the biggest dork, I won’t keep a secret.”

“Is it bad that I love you?”

“I don’t know how it happened.”

“You have your violent tendencies but you’re alright.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, baby.”

“Still annoying.”

“I know you love me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You turned over, Jimin tracing his finger along your spine and giving you chills.

“Stop~” You whined and he placed small kisses on the nape of your neck.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to be with you forever.”

“Cheesy.”

“I mean it. I don’t see being with anyone else besides you.”

“I am a pretty good girlfriend, aren’t I?”

“Usually I’m annoyed by your ego but it’s true.”

“I know.”

“Don’t push it, baby.”

“Where are you going with this, Jimin?”

“Marry me.”

“What?”

“I said, marry me ______.” You face him, seeing him holding a ring in his hand and you gasped.

“I know you want a small and intimate proposal and I didn’t know how else to do it. I know it’s been six months since we’re official but we’re pretty much a married couple already,” You and he were often mistaken as one because you two fought and made up like one.

“We should make that official too, shouldn’t we? I’ll keep my cheesiness short and sweet just for you, this ring is my vow to you that I want to be yours and yours alone. My vow that I will never leave you. Whatever happens in the future, I want to go through it with you.”

“Will you marry me?”

“Of course, I will, Jiminie.” He grabbed your hand, slipping the ring on your ring finger. You glanced at the design, two little gemstones on either side of the large one in the centre. It was your birthstones, yours in the left and his on the right and a diamond in the centre. It was beautiful.

“I love you.”

~Admin Blake