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My sister might not have brain cancer
#did you know that there is a rare form of MS that presents as a brain tumor on MRI#MS runs in my family#right now the tumor diagnosis stands but there is a good possibility
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Cocoa
Amanda Rollins x reader warnings: none? brief mention of pet abandonment. all cutesy fluff. Man. I rarely ever get requests for Amanda, and every time I do I am reminded of HOW MUCH I LOVE HER. More justice and love for Ms Rollins please. I need to think of more ideas for her. Love Amanda? Sign up for the taglist here! Got an idea for a story? Send it on in here!
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Even though you missed the jingling of Amanda’s keys in the hallway you knew she was a few steps from the front door at the way Frannie’s head popped up, looking over the back of the couch at the incoming noise. After a couple of sniffs she seemed satisfied, plopping her head back down beside you, continuing to chew on her bone. You gave her a little scratch behind the ears and let out a breath, your pulse quickening at the sound of Amanda’s keys in the lock.
She opened the door to find you on the couch, television turned on to Bluey as you were (presumably) cooing to Frannie.
“Oh, that’s it.” You laughed softly, “such a good girl. Okay, ohhkkay, ssssh.” Your hand reached out to pet her as she let out a low whine. “I know, I know. She’s home now, okay.”
“Awee.” Amanda let out a chuckle, “did someone miss me?” She whistled quietly, “c’mere girl.”
Frannie popped up on the opposite end of the couch from where you were facing, quickly jumping down and trotting over to her mom to say hello. At first, distracted, Amanda didn’t notice, cooing at her dog as she gave her a very welcoming pet and big scratch. Her ears picked up another whine that definitely wasn’t human and her head titled back up to catch you with a sheepish look on your face.
“So… if Frannie is over here…”
“That was… my stomach?” You offered with a wince and Amanda let out a small scoff of a laugh. She straightened up, letting out a small sigh as whatever you were hiding on the other side of the couch let out a yip.
“Sounds like you haven’t eaten all day.” Her hands fell to her hips, “what’d you do?”
“I… did not do anything.” You made a little kissing noise and the other dog finally popped up into Amanda’s sight line over the back of the couch. It looked like a chocolate lab, big enough to look like a fully grown dog but small enough Amanda knew it was likely still just a big puppy. You cupped its head in your hands, making more kissing noises as it sniffed at your face as your voice slipped into puppy dog mode. “But some big meanie left this gorgeous angel in the alley way.” You turned to look at her, “I told you I heard something crying last night. Bastard left her outside in the storm all night tied to the damn dumpster. I saw her when I went out this morning.”
“Are you absolutely sure someone wasn’t coming back for her?” Amanda asked, slowly approaching the back of the couch as you went back to playing with the dog.
“Yes.” You nodded, nodding the dog’s head in your hands as you did so, “yes, I am.” You looked back to your girlfriend, “I went back down with some food and water right away, she was super friendly and just wanted some love. I left her all afternoon just in case, it was already getting dark and the poor thing starting crying again. Frannie and I just couldn’t bare listening to it anymore.” Your lips formed a pout and Amanda could almost see the glistening of tears starting in your eyes, “when I went back down she was just so happy to see us! Instant friends with this one, I tell ya.” Your hand reached out to give Frannie a little scratch. “Then I found the note on her collar…”
“Someone really just left her?” It was her turn to pout, finally reaching out, letting the dog sniff the back of her hand, giving it a few licks before she scratched her behind the ears.
“Yeah. Note said she was a Christmas present for the kids, but the kids weren’t ‘doing their chores’ of taking care of her and the family didn’t want her anymore.” You said the last part in just over a whisper as you covered the dogs ears, “she’s house trained, no issues and is up to date on all her shots and stuff. Though I did make an appointment with the vet for tomorrow just in case.”
“Baby…” Amanda’s head tilted and you let out a sigh at what you knew must be coming. “We can’t keep her.”
“Why not?!” You whined and Amanda nearly laughed as both the new dog and Frannie let out whines in practically the same pitch as all three of you stared up at her.
“We… already have Frannie.” She gestured, “and I work late hours. I feel guilty enough leaving one dog cooped up in a one bedroom apartment all day.”
“I work from home like, eighty percent of the time, you wouldn’t have to worry about us. Besides, another big dog means another level of protection.” You countered, “you always say you wish I was safer out at night, or when you’re working overnights. Can’t get much safer than this.” You gestured to your lap which was slowly being taken over by both dogs, Frannie nuzzling at ear while the other one licked your cheek.
“She does really seem to like you.” The blonde replied, chewing on her lip.
“They get along perfectly too!” You bartered, gesturing to the dogs as you picked up a toy, swinging it between them before tossing it down the hall and they both ran off, instantly starting to play with each other like they’d grown up together. “See? Instant best friends. You can’t deny Frannie that.”
“Oh my god.” Amanda laughed, running a hand over her face. “What happens when you’re out for a walk and the kids see their dog and come crying wanting it back?”
“Note said they live in Staten Island, left her here so that wouldn’t happen.”
“They seriously drove all that way to dump her in the garbage? When there’s plenty of shelters all around the city?” She wasn’t just frustrated, she was pissed now, a feeling the dog could sense as it jogged down the hallway and went right up to Amanda, nudging at her legs until it was getting pets, “oh you poor thing.”
You knew it, a smile creeping up on your lips as Amanda crouched down to actually greet the dog and her face instantly melted. The look of love and adoration immediately taking over her eyes as she cooed at the dog who nuzzled as deep into her as it could.
“Oh, you’re a good girl.” She cooed, “such a sweet girl. What’s your name, hmm?”
“Cocoa.” You replied, and the dog let out a quiet bark.
Amanda stood back up with a small sigh, glancing between the two dogs who immediately started playing together again before looking over at you.
“Puh-leeeeaaase.” You pulled an overdramatic pout and faked crying.
“You are worse than a child, you know that?”
“At least I have my own source of income to support Cocoa and now we’ll each have one to walk when we take them out. I mean, Manda… look at them. They’re so happy, she’s so much happier not being tied to a dumpster in the rain… you’re not going to ruin that, are you?”
“Wow.” She laughed, rounding around the couch to drop down beside you.
“Well?” You batted your eyelashes, “yes?”
“Fine.” She finally agreed with a small smile and you let out a shriek, launching toward her to pepper her face with kisses.
The noise alone was enough to pull both of the dog’s attention, barks echoing through the apartment as they jumped back up onto the couch, jumping on the both of you, cold noses and wet kisses getting everywhere they could.
“Okay, okay.” Amanda laughed, gently pushing Frannie down onto her lap, “you win, you win.” She booped her nose, “you got a new sister, happy?” Frannie agreed with a small woof, rubbing her head into Amanda’s hands.
“You hear that?” You cooed to Cocoa, scratching underneath her chin, “you get to stay! Welcome home Cocoa.”
You looked back to Amanda with such love and happiness in your eyes that she knew there was never a way in a million years she would have actually said no to the whole thing. She loved you too much, loved seeing you happy too much and this way Frannie would have someone to play with when no one was home.
It was a win win for everyone.
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@mickey-gomez @hbkpop @bisexualcrowley @red1culous @imlike-so-gaydude @altsvu @lesbianspacecowboy @wannabe-fic-reader @gaylorrds @beccabarba @mysticfalls01 @alexbllake @infernumlilith @australiancarisi @wandas-wife @emskisworld @samwithnoplan @multifandomlesbianic @sia2raw @dxtery @anlin2058 @itisdoctortoyousir @alexxavicry @daddy-heather-dunbar @evilregal2002 @7thavenger @m00nkn1ghts @sapphicprentiss @geekyandgay98 @onmykneesformarvel @desperate-gay @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @noahrex @temp0rary-bliss @wittygutsy
#amanda rollins#amanda rollins x reader#cocoa#law and order svu#svu#law and order#law and order special victims unit#amanda rollins fluff#amanda rollins one shot#amanda rolliins fanfic
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CHAPTER XIII [masterlist]
pairing: bang chan x ofc
genre/notes: general audience; regency period drama; family fluff; domesticity; ocassional angst; slowburn; governess!oc; nobility!BC; age differences; age changes.
wordcount: 3.3k
summary: returning guests makes particular arrangements more certain.
also available in ao3, if you prefer that format
© Do not repost, copy, or republish into another site or under another name.
⚠️ All characters that shares the name of real life person in this story are represented in a fictional manner for entertainment purpose, and not to be alluded with real life.
TAGLIST: @spookykryptoniteperson @nixtape-foryou @do-you-know-what-else-is-big
Mr Bambam returned a day before Jeongin’s birthday. Mari did not know if the boys or he were more delighted — there's little comparison between new toys and jars of sweets to a grand country house. Lady Jang followed on the tenth of February, with Ms Kim and with her bounty of presents. Mr Bambam goaded her for such attempts of securing their affection. The Baroness' pointed brow arch silenced him. If the sweets were not enough statement, the number of papers and books was no flimsy matter.
Mari had resumed classes by then; the heavy snow did not permit the boys to wander about as they’d like. Even so, the returning company provided much entertainment to exert their energy. The days passed quickly, and soon it was warm enough for the occasional barouche rides. Mari fell back into rhythms: joining their games or working on her embroideries when they wandered away with their father. With such excursions often joined by Mr Bambam and Lady Jang, she absorbed the rare solace. Hardly anybody disturbed her — and she was none too pleased by an abrupt one when she least desired it.
“How you bend to draw, Miss Song.”
Mari looked up from the sketch she had been working on, retracting in her chair to regard the new companion. “Ms Kim.”
The lady nodded at the acknowledgement but then turned to look towards the garden. Ms Kim remained cold and of little speech, to Mari and the children especially. Her few conversations and remarks were to her employer, or the Commodore and Mr Bambam. But Commodore Bang had taken their guests and the boys to the fields, which could explain her current presence. Astounded as she was to her presence, Mari hardly welcomed it. The terrace retained its silence, Mari's pencil slowed, anticipating any words from Ms Kim. It seemed improbable that she would leave the conversation to that remark. It was a long while until Ms Kim turned and asked in a quiet voice, “How old are you, dear?”
Though the doting form of address baffled her, Mari sat up straighter. “I will be three and twenty, in spring.”
There was a pause before the light voice spoke again, “And you have been a governess for long?”
“This is my first. Before Commodore Bang employed me last summer, I was a teacher at Ahn Haesoo’s school, not twenty miles away.”
Ms Kim hummed, brushing over her skirt. “To think that with such a handsome face, you could have been a parish’s wife.”
The statement gave Mari a pause—she knew not what to make of it. Was that praise or degradation?— Is she lovely? Or only pretty enough to be a parish’s wife? Should she be married? Should she have been married? And be a parish’s wife? Or that the highest marriage she could achieve is no more than a parish wife? That such a state is better than her being a teacher? But more importantly — why should another decide what she should be? Mari could not care to be a parish wife—she doesn't think herself virtuous or benevolent enough for such duties (also that reverends are often men of great follies themselves). The thoughts stormed in her head, while dislike rose of the person before her. Yet the pause had grown lengthy, so she exerted herself to reign her expression and respond if but little.
“I had the liberty to choose my current occupation and I enjoyed it,” she settled.
“Do you intend to pursue this occupation in the long term?”
Mari closed her sketchbook. “If circumstances allow, and if my values and my want for purpose are satisfied until then, I don’t see why I should stop.”
She held her stare at Ms Kim, at her muslin gown and laces and upturned pout. Pride and confidence rose as much as she felt belittled and indignant. She knew an inkling of her temper was going to get the better of her if she was not careful. There was another lull of silence. If Mari could stare to force a word from the woman, she had done it; though the words were not expected.
“The Commodore likes you dear, do you know?”
Mari let out a huff. I'll be glad if he does! Better one from a respectable man than a wart, like you. Mari did not like her condescending tone, like many other women who bat men away for being fools. Both sexes are fools enough to make it even. Her employer was certainly not—he’s a naval commodore, by heavens! Earned it rightfully than the soldiers who paid their ranks. And even if he's not, he’s kind and sensible to his boys. That was all she wished for, even if he treated Mari with less regard she knew are wont for governesses. She rose from the chair, carrying her sketchbook and tools, glad of the clock’s bell for her excuse.
“We’ve come to esteem each other with more geniality. And it shouldn't be so hard for anyone to respect him. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see if lunch is prepared.”
As she walked away, Mari wondered if she had been too cross.
She had. Ms Kim's new wave of contempt took the form of making subtle comparisons to how inferior Barlnshore and O—shire was. The parish was too gloomy, the woods too shady and damp. How tender this meat and that poultry could be in Lord A—’s house, how much finer and uniform fruits were in the capital. They were the briefest mention, a single-sentence commentary. No one could respond much—for her words were only spoken after Lady Jang's compliments. But the sheer outrageousness of such shameless disdain irked Mari. It was only worse to see the slight tightening of the Commodore's lips before he smiled broadly in a good-natured response to the comment.
The boys would not say or react much to the words, per the code of children's-politeness-among-adults. But the remark for the fruits had done it for Minho, that he paused and stared at Ms Kim. Mari knew the boy was not as accommodating as his father; his eyes were as cold and sharp as icicles.
“I’m sorry that the peaches have disappointed you,” his voice rose among the clicks of cutleries. A hush fell over as eyes turned to him. Mari saw Ms Kim’s stunned facade, the Commodore and Lady’s Jang wary air—though the former seemed curious to hear what Minho had to state.
“However, our farmers have worked hard and grown our greens with much attention and care. The peaches are as good as others in any part of the country; for most are sent to town for sale. As such, it is simply unnecessary to dismiss such hard work with so much scrutiny.”
He turned to his father's stare. Commodore Bang said nothing but nodded at him to continue his meal. There was a cough from behind Mr Bambam’s napkin, who resumed the conversation by mentioning a general acquaintance's news. Ms Kim’s stare hung incredulously at Minho—who cared not a whit, but relished his juicy peaches as if to express his point. The boys were dismissed early with Mari after dessert. Commodore Bang tapped Minho on the elbow as he passed. He patted his brown tresses when the boy paused in confusion, then ushered him along with the others.
Another time was when Mari returned from a snowball fight with the boys, fighting for the last freezing snow before everything softened to mud. There were shrieks and tumbling and free laughter, and they returned red faces and snow and twigs on their coats. After divesting the outerwear, Mari told the boys to go warm up in the library, while she sorted coats with Minatozaki-san and Yeonji’s help. It was then she heard Ms Kim’s commenting on her “wild behaviour”, as she descended the stairs with Lady Jang. Mari did not know if the far distance between them prompted the woman to speak in such a clear voice, or if it was a particular remark she wanted Mari to hear.
But then Lady Jang’s voice followed more lightly. “For playing with those boys? I think it is charming. She had more vigour and youth to keep up with them — I might envy such an advantage.”
“Oh, the old peckers,” Minatozaki-san muttered when the ladies had turned into the solar room. Mari chuckled at the pout in the housekeeper’s voice and held her hands to placate her.
“Do not fret so, Minatozaki-san,” she said. “I do not mind.” Not that she could explain her true sentiment at that moment.
“Oh, but Miss Son—she’s always disliked you, yet you are nothing but a good person,” Yeonji defended.
“I cannot be liked by everyone, Yeonji. But I’m sorry to trouble you two so,” Mari nodded, indicating the piles of damp coats they held in their arms. After a few assurances that they’ll manage it, Mari thanked them. She climbed up the stairs, only letting out a sigh as she reached the empty second flight.
“I want to ask a favour from you, Miss Son.”
Mari had been working on her embroidery in the corner of the terrace, stunned to find Lady Jang standing by her.
“Will you walk with me?” she beckoned.
The word 'favour' did not sit well with her. Yet Mari nodded, setting her frame away and brushing her apron from threads.
It was a lovely afternoon, spring had arrived hence the peeking fresh green colours in the garden. The boys played on the grassy lawns, with their bows and arrows to perfect their archery. Lady Jang led Mari around the terrace, turning at the corner into the ballroom. Quiet looms as the boy’s excited chatter outside were hushed.
“I would like to employ you for five months further. Your term ends in March, does it not? I will extend it until August.”
Mari fell silent in her surprise. Lady Jang watched her expectantly. "If you are willing of course."
Mari reigned back her confusion, and let out a quiet response “Whyever for, my lady?”
“Why? To take care of the younger boys, of course.”
Mari could not reply to the lilting, pleased voice — there was a lump lodging in her throat. Lady Jang paid little heed of her muteness—she had always spoken so well to keep the company lively.
“We might renew the agreements, but I intend the wages to be equal to what you have received for this term. Perhaps I should raise it — as compensation for such unprompted notice!”
Something in Mari bristled at the mention of money, but she tempered it down to ask, “And after that?”
“After that? Well, of course, you can go home—”
“Begging your pardon, I meant the boys,” Mari said. “After August—will they have a new governess, a tutor?”
“I thought that since it will be the start of autumn, they can be sent to boarding school.”
There was an unpleasant heaviness pooling in Mari’s stomach. “School?”
“Let’s see now—what was the plan?” Lady Jang hummed. “Commodore Bang and I settled for a wedding in June, and after that, we will leave to tour for the next two months. Which is why we will need you. Surely during those times, you cannot expect the boys to be left alone? Since Chan and the boys are quite fond of you already, I don’t see why we must make a change and hire someone new. No one else would be more fitting than you. Then it will be September, and the school term will start. The oldest two can continue their studies, and the younger ones will be situated in the same boarding school.”
“Boarding school?”
“Yes. Hyunjin and the twins are old enough. It would be good for them to learn independence and socialisation among their peers. I’ve heard good testimonies of a school near the capital…”
What good are testimonies if the house will be empty again? Mari’s mind flurried as the image of Commodore Bang roaming about the halls and peeking into rooms came to her. Door to door and not a twitter of laughter would respond to him. She turned out towards the wide windows. The boys were in the open, laughing and clapping over heaven knows what, but with such glee upon them. All solemnity of last night was forgotten.
Mari had glanced up from her conversation with Minatozaki-san to find the boys attending to their father, quiet in dread. She could not hear, but Commodore Bang’s gaze went to Lady Jang at times, and she was holding his hands. It did not take long for Mari to realise that they had been speaking of a settled engagement. She inwardly cursed her aloofness for missing it, until agony rose back up in her.
It was the first day of March; Mari had but nine-and-twenty days left until she ended her original term. It was so little time, hardly enough for Mari’s satisfaction. In the back of her mind, came an irrational notion that she will lose them .
At any other time, the arrangements of those words–which appeared in her petrified state–would make no sense. She would laugh at the childish attachment underlying it. But such fear trailed up and grasped her heart with such abrupt intensity that Mari let out a gasp.
“Miss Son?”
“I am well,” Mari murmured, steadying her shuddering form. She must have cut off Lady Jang’s words—she had not a jot of what the lady had been speaking off. But at least the proposal remained: will she extend her term?
“I don’t know what to think yet of the proposal,” Mari let out.
“Then take your time, Miss Son,” came Lady Jang's reply. “Please understand that I am not insisting. If it is too much of a burden for you, in any way, do not let a refusal rest heavily upon you. It is only the necessity of the role and your compatibility with the boys which I makes me prefer you.”
She was most thoughtful, but Mari knew not how soon she could settle a decision. She knew not if the weeks would even be enough.
“I will have to discuss such agreements with my headmistress first.”
“Of course,” Lady Jang nodded. “Forgive me, I quite forgot you are not entirely independent.”
“Does the Commodore know?” Mari asked, turning to face Lady Jang properly. “What does he say about this?”
Lady Jang’s lips pulled into a smile, clear and serene like the lights piercing the window’s glass. “I intend to discuss it with him today.”
Then there might be a chance for refusal. Possibly even a chance to persuade him otherwise after the whole summer debacle. Mari nodded, and then she curtsied. “Thank you, Lady Jang. I will speak to you about it again.”
“Very well, Miss Son. I shall be waiting.” Mari turned away, walking further into the house, almost rushing to her room. Lady Jang’s smile remained in her thoughts, the indulgent fond light in her eyes, like one polite hostess indulging a trying request of an undesired guest. She stumbled by the side of her bed and found herself stone-still on the rug. Her head leant to the bedpost as worried thoughts swarmed her.
It was not a matter that could be considered in merely two or three days. Mari was grateful that at the least Lady Jang did not consistently urge her to settle it. Her opinion of Lady Jang was somewhat altered; as such was Mari’s manner of respect towards her.
She was a noble, gentle woman, that is sure, with all the propriety and elegance. But not a sense of motherhood, nor generosity when it displeases her. She would not share or make joy to people who are nothing to her. Which was acceptable in the sense that she has the right to make her own company and be comforted in it. But that such manners strained her interaction with the boys when they were to live together soon; it did not bode well for Mari’s conscience.
Alongside such thoughts, her situation now became stark to her. The fun and occupation had ended, but it didn't feel like the satisfaction of a well-ended day’s work. It was like she was soon to be ushered away: necessary no more for her services, no thanks given for her efforts. Which was not true—but oh! If only she could find some assurance to leave with a relieved mind. But she didn't understand either why the thought of packing her things and never setting foot again in Barlnshore fill her with such dread. She felt like a hare without its burrows, exposed to the windy meadows. Answers would give her security, and sought it she will.
“Good morning, Miss Son,” Commodore Bang said, startling her out of mullings one morning. He was descending the stair, she was to climb it. She gave him a nod, but the thought of her quest swooped through. Only this man might supply her with answers—their encounter was too good an opportunity.
“Commodore,” Mari called. Commodore Bang paused on his heel, tail coat settling from his movements. She couldn't help but think the green coat looked fine on him today.
She swallowed, wetting her mouth and measuring her words. Commodore Bang's face was open, attending.
“Is the marriage… quite settled?”
He tilts his head, “Pardon?”
“If you will oblige me by helping me to understand clearly—that you are engaged to Lady Jang?”
Commodore Bang was still, his following nod was slow. “Yes.”
Mari could barely hear his low words. “How soon will the ceremony be held?”
“We would have to announce it properly for the banns to be read,” he said. “But considering Lady Jang’s businesses and arrangements, it would not be for two or three more months to start the first reading.”
March was in two days, and by the twentieth Mari would have to leave.
“I see,” she nodded. “I should like to have that clear. And the boys?”
He frowned now, approaching her closer to the end of the bannister. "The boys?”
“You would not send them away, surely? After your marriage?” Mari asked. “Unless, of course—when Changbin and Minho would have to go to school? But that—Hyunjin would not follow until he is twelve?”
He shook his head. “No.”
It was firm and earnest, the same way he denied his boys an outing on a clouded snowy day and promised an excursion on the sleigh if they can wait two days. For Mari, it was some hope, for he always stayed true to his promises to others. But influences might always wield through.
“Of course, you might have reasons to do otherwise, but..”
“You fear I would neglect them again,” he cut.
His face had turned grave. She knew he understood, all that she feared had happened to them again. “Yes.”
When Commodore Bang spoke again, it was slow, yet no less sincere. “I could not part from them, not all at once if that’s what you meant. Until education demands them, they would not leave Barlnshore—I should like to keep them by my side for a long while. To... make up for many things”
Perhaps gauging her concerned eyes, he smiled. “You have my word, Miss Son. They would not suffer being set aside as they were.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, truly.”
There was a pause as Mari took in his words. Some warmth filled her breast—it pleased her, though she had not felt compelled to smile in return. Mari stepped back in the stair, held her hands together in her front and lowered her head. “Then please forgive me for having pried so, sire."
“You have not.” Commodore Bang inclined his head and continued to step downstairs.
“Forgive me — Congratulations, Commodore,” Mari bowed, pulling a polite smile when she looked up again. “I hope you will be very happy.”
Commodore Bang returned the smile and bowed. “Thank you, Miss Son.”
Mari did not see his contemplating brows as she climbed upstairs, nor the slower steps he took further on.
#straykidsland#stray kids fic#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fanfiction#stray kids fluff#skz fic#skz fanfic#skz fanfiction#skz fluff#skz family#stray kids family#family au#siblings au#regency au#musical au#bang chan fanfic#bang chan fanfiction#bang chan x oc#bang chan fluff#lee know fluff#changbin fluff#hyunjin fluff#han jisung fluff#lee felix fluff#seungmin fluff#i.n fluff#changbin fic#han jisung fic#kpop fic#kpop fanfic
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pew pew-pew -pew peeeeeeeeew
it's day two of @lovely-blue-galaxy's 2023 richjake week!!!
the prompt was instrument
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Rich had come to terms that he was bi. It was hard to do that when you had a Japanese supercomputer parroting the words he’d heard his entire life.
He still hadn’t entirely come to terms that he was “in love” with his best friend. He could handle a crush, but love? Rich did not sign up for love.
The choir room was empty except for Rich and Jake. Rich had been the young choir teacher, Ms Madflou, favourite since freshman year even though he hadn’t done choir in sophomore year; because of this, she let him and Jake stay in the choir room while waiting for the rest of their friends who were rehearsing for the Spring Play.
Stray notes rang out as Jake sat by the piano, moving his fingers in a pattern that Rich couldn’t figure out. Well, he thought it was a pattern.
“You got any requests?” Jake asked, head still bent over the piano.
Rich was leaning against the left side of the piano, craning his head to look at Jake’s hands. (Really? His hands? Jesus Christ, Rich was sad)
“Do you know any rock songs?” Rich asked, his eyes focused on Jake’s hair. (Hair? God, he was like a preteen girl.) “Or do you only know fancy songs by dead dudes?”
Rich actually knew multiple classical composers (Courtesy of the supercomputer that was in his head for over a year). He knew that Jake’s favourite composer was Pyotr Illych Tchaikovsky and that in 5th grade he did a presentation on him and played Waltz of The Flowers on their Music teacher’s piano. He also knew that Jake could play Hall Of The Mountain King with his eyes closed.
“I shouldn’t have expected anything better than you, your music taste is literally just pop punk and emo. You’re like a 13-year-old girl in 2010.” Jake began to form a melody from the seemingly discordant notes. Rich watched as Jake’s hands moved slowly and deliberately across the keyboard. Each note was careful and deliberate. Rich recognized the song, it was Chopin’s Nocturne Op. 9 No.2
And Rich suddenly understood every single poet who ever wrote about their lovers (He’s not your lover dipshit). Rich was already willing to be the Icarus to Jake’s Apollo, but now he was asking.
And if you were anyone else, you might not have seen it. But Rich saw the care and precision in the way Jake played. It was the same as the way he spoke to Rich in those rare moments on those dark nights when life was shit but at least his squip was off. At least he got to notice Jake’s soft hands and softer words.
Jake’s eyes were glued to the keyboard, and his concentration was stuck on the melody and the harmony. And before Rich knew it Jake had finished and Jake was looking up at him. And, oh my god the way he was looking up at him, and, oh my god his smile and, oh my god his, his eyes! Wait, am I moving closer or is he?Oh fuck we’re kissing. What do I do? And finally, when the kiss was done and they were wearing matching stupid grins, Oh shit, this is love.
#richjake#2023 richjake week#bmc#i feel like the parts of this aren't connected in a way#like there's a lot of unrelated bits and pieces#and it doesn't fit together all too well#also you can tell i don't know much about classical music#also rich is definitely a choir kid
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Gifting A Brooch
I removed my hat, the vintage grey one with that lovely black feather, where I took inspiration from a certain Ms. Rosier, and knocked on The Queen’s door. I am no expert in wood types, but this ebony door is certainly beautiful. Princess Snow White wrote to me, as I am her stepmother’s jewelry designer, and I am related to Dulce, her newest mirror maker, who had been nothing but a charismatic dear to her over the past few days.
“Enter.” I heard her voice, regal, calm and collected, with a hint of vulnerability. Something I know all too well. I carefully opened the door and closed it behind me while placing a hand on the door knob so it will not slam. I have absolutely no intention of ruining this calm atmosphere. Then, I turn and face The Queen.
She seemed to be in her usual attire, her violet gown, ruby pendant, black cape, fillet and wimple and crown, all in place. I recently did some simple research on her headdress, learnt that it is actually a two-piece. Her emerald eyes pierced through my onyx ones. “If I may ask, how are you faring, your majesty?” My lips parted to speak.
“How am I faring?” She echoed. She did not respond for a while, but I can see her emerald pupils dilate, then back again. I know it’s a rather surprising question for her. “If you must know…Currently, I am not at my best.” Those words rolled off her tongue much easier than she would admit. I reached out to hold her hand, but only managed to brush over a perfectly manicured, apple-red nail. Queen Grimhilde’s stance seemed to be different, and it is not just because she sat on an armchair. Yes, she was still the poised, regal monarch, yet the way she stood also allowed me to detect a hint of vulnerability. She’s been hurt by many things. I’ve sensed those before, yet she seemed to have become more fragile after the tumble off that cliff.
I pulled out a small intricate box with my emblem. “I would like to present this gift, your majesty. It is my own design, and I sincerely hope it is to your liking.”
I presented the box to her with both hands, and tensed up for a second when I feel her slender fingers brush over mine. She held onto the box, her slender fingers absentmindedly tracing over its velvet texture. The Queen has quite an affinity towards beauty, and now I can only hope that the intricacy of my design does not disappoint.
Queen Grimhilde lifted open the lid, her eyes glimmered with subtle curiosity, and no, she did not gasp. Instead, she took the brooch out and examined it, the spinel surface of it glistening under the afternoon sunlight. “Very well, I shall accept it,” she finally replies, “But do explain, why does the design take the shape of an apple?” She arched a perfect eyebrow in slight confusion.
I fully expected her to ask this question. “Your majesty, I do know of that unfortunate encounter with the dwarves. But also, I imagine apples to be a most flawless fruit, much like yourself. It deserves to be refined.” Yes, it was inspired by that poisoned apple, but I wanted to bring a refined touch to it, so that it is custom made and befitting of royalty. Instead of the acidic green poison, I opted for gold, soft enough to form intricate flamelike swirls like the steam rising from a cauldron.
The Queen listened with interest. “You seem to always be drawn to the…elements around you, yet you twist them into your own aesthetic.” She mused, locking her gaze into mine once more. “I have not expected you to visit me.”
She carefully placed the brooch back into the box, and rose from her seat, “A creative design I do approve of.” I stood up too, and followed her to her vanity, where she opened a drawer, and I was greeted with a masquerade of intricate brooches dancing before me, as I see a hint of her rare smile.
Call me Aurelia, if you want to. It means “Golden One”, and I have always strived to live up to this name. It’s my destiny, you see, the one I willingly chose. I am known for my passionate jewelry designs and my empathetic nature, as I dramatically consider myself as that sprinkle of starlight that is visible every night. In simpler words, I offer compassion and design jewelry for those I value. A rather odd combination, but befitting of me. Yes, I travel, but through dimensions and realms to find possible clients. Among all my clients, Queen Grimhilde is one of my favourites.
#disney#snow white#queen grimhilde#evil queen#fanfiction#disney fanfiction#snow white and the seven dwarfs#alternate universe#disney villains#oc#ways to heal an evil queen
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the send-off | s.r; 2
summary | Being his best friend and assistant, Howard Stark asked you to be the first one to be tested on his time machine project. After some unexpected errors, you ended up stuck in the modern times of the 21st century. Where you meet the man you thought died years ago: Steve Rogers.
pairing/s | steve rogers x reader, avengers x reader
word count | 3.9k+
genres | angst, fluff, crack, time travel au, unrequited love au
warnings | mentions of death,
note | thank you for the love with the first chapter! here's the second part. hope you'll enjoy reading. as always, reblogs and feedback are appreciated.
series masterlist
THE FIRST TIME you and Steve met was just a random encounter you had. You were bored. Howard brought you with him to New York City for his most awaited Stark Expo. The prototype for the flying car that he presented was a failure but the people still loved it since your best friend was quick to save himself from embarrassment. He was basically just putting a show on stage and you internally cringed standing there. So you just wandered around the place instead of waiting for him backstage. You found yourself in the nearby enlistment office adjacent and decided to stay to look around.
“What is the great Dr. Y/N doing here?”
You turned around from gazing at one of the framed displays to the familiar voice who spoke behind you. It was Dr. Erskine, a scientist rescued by the SSR with the help of Stark Industries. You returned the kind smile he gave you.
“I’ve had enough of watching Howard talk every time. I needed to get away.” you joked, making the older guy chuckle.
“Well, you are free to stay here in the meantime. I was just reviewing some possible test subjects for the serum.” he shared.
You were about to say something when a conversation caught your and Dr. Ernskine’s attention. You see two men talking to each other. One wore an enlisted army uniform while the shorter one held a piece of what seemed to be a registration paper.
“You don’t think I can do it.” the smaller, blonde man spoke, hurt evident in his tone.
“This isn’t some back alley, Steve. It’s a war. Why are you so keen to fight? There are lots of other important jobs.”
Your eyes move to Dr. Ernskine at the mention of the war. He already seemed engaged in the conversation. With only listening to them for less than a minute, your brain already formed context on what they were arguing about.
“You want me to sit in a factory? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon while the men are laying down their lives? I can do as well as them and I got no right to do any less. That’s the thing you don’t get, Bucky. It’s not about me.”
“Right. ‘Cause, you’ve got nothing to prove.”
Then, a girl called out the name of the uniformed man, breaking the tension between the two. Once again, you turned your head to the scientist beside you and he slowly looked back at you. You can tell that he got an idea just based on the narrowing of his eyes. So you asked,
“What are you thinking, Doctor?”
He turned back with a small smile, “I’m going back to the office, Ms. Y/N. You are free to come if you want to.”
With growing curiosity and interest, you did follow him. You watched as he immediately rummaged through files and even asked for help from another nurse. He described the features of the man you saw earlier and you can already comprehend what the doctor is doing. He also approached the medical doctor, telling the same guy.
“Let me talk to him if he ever comes here.” Dr. Ernskine said.
You looked through the documents on the desk as Dr. Ernskine talked to the doctor. You read how the guy tried enlisting in four different names under four different cities. Today would possibly be his fifth try. He was undeniably persistent. It was rare as you know how other men were just forced to fight for their country.
“Quite determined, isn’t he?” the scientist spoke beside you.
“Maybe he is a real patriot,” you mumbled, still staring at the documents.
“Maybe not,” he responded, which made you look at him. “Maybe, he is just a good man.”
A patriot? A good man? What’s the difference anyway? You asked yourself. As if on cue, the medical doctor came in, stating that the guy is waiting on the other side of the curtain. Dr. Ernskine wore his white lab coat and entered the other room. You decided to stay and sit on one of the empty chairs. Silently, you listened to their conversation.
Steve Rogers. His deep voice was a big contrast to his seemingly fragile physique. You smiled when you heard Steve denying the files, stating that it might be the wrong file. When asked about the Nazis, his answer can say a lot about him.
“I don’t like bullies, Doctor. I don’t care where they’re from.”
He is a noble man, you thought. And knowing how Dr. Ernskine was interested in Steve, you knew he would stamp Steve’s document for approval. Minutes later, the white curtain opened fully. Dr. Ernskine walked out the door to look for the other staff, who he asked to leave earlier, leaving you and Steve alone. You immediately locked eyes with Steve’s baby blue ones. He seemed shy as he was the first one to look away. You stood up from your seat.
“My name’s Dr. Y/N. I work for Stark Industries.” you introduced yourself and he seemed surprised when you broke the growing silence. He was just eyeing your hand for a second when you offered it in front of him.
“Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” he spoke as he shook your hand softly. “You are Howard Stark’s assistant.”
Being used to being recognized in that way, you chuckled with that, “Indeed, I am.”
Steve was about to say something when the door opened again. You both stopped and looked at it, expecting the doctor. This time, it was Edwin Jarvis, Howard’s butler. He seemed to be searching for someone.
“Ms. Y/N, Mr. Stark has been looking for you.”
You looked back at Steve, “I guess I should go now… Congratulations on your enlistment, Steve.”
Knowing your best friend, the guy probably showered Jarvis with questions about your whereabouts. So you mindlessly left the room with Jarvis, not even hearing Steve’s small bye.
Ev'ry time we say goodbye, I die a little. Ev'ry time we say goodbye, I wonder why a little.
An old but familiar jazz played on Steve’s phone while he stroked the pencil on his sketchpad. He hummed along to the music. It somehow made him feel less out of place or time rather. Just minutes ago, he told Natasha and Clint that he is going to bed. But in all honesty, he just wanted an excuse to not go to Tony’s time machine presentation. As much as he wants to be a supportive friend and colleague, the machine just reminds him of your disappearance.
Steve reached for his small eraser, ready to finish his quick sketch. He carefully erased some messy lines. After removing the remaining eraser, Steve’s lips formed into a small smile. He is still proud of the outcome of the drawing.
Suddenly, there were heavy knocks on his door. He slid his pad into his desk drawer and closed it. Steve asked FRIDAY to open the door. Sam, who was seemingly stressed, entered the room right away.
“Steve, man, you need to see what’s going on out there,” he said. His tone is a mix of disbelief, surprise, and stress. He even pointed his index finger outside the door.
“Why?”
Sam was just about to answer when a loud booming sound and screams were heard. Steve quickly stood up from his swivel chair. Sam followed him behind as they walked out of his room to go to the explosion.
“What’s happening? I thought Tony was presenting his new project.” Steve said, confused.
Sam was quick to reply, “He was. But then, this woman showed up and Bucky seems to know her–”
“Showed up?” Steve interjected.
“Yeah, like poof!” his friend demonstrated with jazz hands. “Tony pulled the time machine lever and suddenly, this woman is standing on the platform.”
His confusion rose. Nonetheless, Steve continued.
“Any information about the woman?”
“I don’t know, man. But Bucky called her, ``Dr. Y/N.”
“Y/N?”
Steve had to repeat that to make sure he was not just hearing things. Another booming sound was heard in the distance. The two shared a look. Sam proceeded,
“Yeah. Spider kid said she was Howard’s assistant. Then, I–”
That was it. That was Steve’s verification of you. He is totally unsure how such an event is possible. But that information gave him hope.
“Where is she?”
A thin blanket of gray smoke can be seen coming out of their entrance. Steve walked faster when he saw Pepper and Natasha assisting a woman from the hangar. Without even seeing your face, he can already confirm it is you. Your hair color is the same, only its length seems longer. You had the exact fashion sense of a lady from the late 1940s. Slowly, your head turned up, meeting his eyes. He noticed how your eyes widened as you stuttered, calling his name.
“S-Steve?!”
Seeing how surprised and terrified you are with everything, Steve was about to offer you a smile. But then, your eyes rolled off the back of your head as your knees gave up. He immediately walked up to you and carried you easily in a bridal style. He looked at your unconscious state before looking up at everyone in the room, where he met eyes with Bucky. He seemed surprised too with your sudden appearance in today’s time.
“Dr. Y/N possibly experienced a panic attack.” Vision stated behind them.
“You should bring her to the clinic. Bruce can check on her as soon as she wakes up.” Natasha told him.
Steve nods and leaves the room with you. He studied your facial features while he took you to the compound’s clinic. He still had to convince himself that this is real even though he is literally carrying you in his arms. The list of questions he’s asking right now is getting longer and he mentally reminds himself to ask both Tony and Bruce about it later.
FRIDAY opened the door and lights as you and Steve entered the clinic. Just when he gently lays you on the empty bed, you squirm. Your eyes slowly open up. Steve watched as you squinted your eyes at the bright light on the white ceiling. Then, to him. Your eyes widened and immediately sat up on the bed. You were staring at each other for a full quiet minute. He did not speak until you did.
“A-Am I dead?”
Steve paused, lines between his eyebrows before he realized why you asked the question. He tried not to chuckle when he replied, “No, you’re not.”
You shook your head, gulped, and carefully asked another question, “Are you Steve Rogers?”
“Yes, I am,” Steve answered with a tight smile. He is ready to explain how he is alive but you were already occupied.
In the most unintentional dramatic way, you sighed with the back of your hand on your forehead, “Damn it, I’m dead.”
You were under obvious stress. But you just accepted whatever happened to you. You expected it anyway… death. Is this heaven? Afterlife? The question popped into your head. You opened your eyes again, looking around the room you were in. Well, heaven seems to like glass windows and things that seem to be gadgets. Steve looked different than the last time you saw him, the day he crashed with the plane he controlled after fighting that chilling Red Skull. You ignored the butterflies in your stomach as you gaze a little longer at him. Do people still grow beards in the afterlife? Before you can think of more things, he spoke again.
“Y/N, I told you you’re not dead. You are very much alive.” he paused. “You are just in a different year…”
Your nose wrinkled as you put on a look of puzzlement. “Then, what year is it?”
“It’s 2018.”
“What?”
You felt a headache coming, which makes you massage your temples. Standing up from the soft bed, you paced around the room. You breathed out heavily, puffing your cheeks. You were supposed to be in 1947, a week before Howard did the test trial on you. Not here. 2018?! Is anyone playing pranks?! You turned to Steve.
“Please tell me you are just making this all up,” you begged. ”Did Howard set this all up? Did I faint while I was on the machine? How are you even alive?! A-Are you even the real Steve Rogers or are you a lookalike? Is Barnes out there too? Where am I– God. This is insane.”
You almost tugged at the roots of your hair, trying to find an explanation for everything. Steve was about to calm you down when the door slides. You two turned to catch who it was. Only to notice the same man you saw at the controls earlier. Another awkward silence passed before he cleared his throat,
“Hello, I am Dr. Bruce Banner and–”
“I’m Dr. Y/N from Stark Industries.” you introduced yourself eagerly. Seeing another doctor made you somehow more impatient to ask questions. You don’t know what his doctorate is for but you hoped he can answer you. “Can you please tell me, Dr. Banner, where am I?”
“You are in the 21st century, missy.”
Another guy comes in and you swore, he almost looks like your best friend. Except you never think Howard will wear such a beard. Plus, you don’t like how he seems full of himself. Like Howard. But you got used to your best friend.
“Missy? Please don’t call me that. I already introduced myself.”
The three men around you– even Tony Stark himself– can tell that you were aggravated by the Stark’s presence. Well, in your defense, you don’t like to be called nicknames like that. You already had enough of that with the ugly geezers you interacted with in your time and if you really are in another timeline, you don’t want to hear another stupid nickname from anyone.
“Who even are you?” you asked him.
Tony, even though he won’t admit it, seemed a bit stunned and intimidated by you at the same time. But he replied, “Tony Stark.”
You raised an eyebrow, “Stark? You’re a Stark?!”
“I don’t like repeating myself but yes.”
There is even more confusion. You stared at his face for what felt like forever. Tony looked back at you, wondering why you are looking that way. If this is the 21st century and this man is a Stark…
You gasped, “You are Howard’s son!”
Tony nods at the mention of his father’s name. But before he can say anything, you already bombarded him with questions. You even felt more hopeful.
“Where’s Howard? Is he here? Oh my god! Does he look old already? I need to see him! I have many things to ask him!”
You looked at Tony and you noticed how his expression changed. His eyes saddened. It became quieter in the whole room. Like you can hear if a needle falls on the ground. Your heartbeat became louder than your hearing. Searching for answers, your eyes moved to Bruce but he looked away. You then turned around and instantly met Steve’s apologetic gaze.
“Where is he?” you asked in almost a whisper.
Steve breathed out heavily before speaking, “Maybe you should sit down first, Y/N.”
“Why?”
You were uneasy with what was going on in your surroundings and mixed emotions. All of the confusion, fear and other emotions you feel are leading up to one thing: frustration.
“Why do I need to sit down first, Steve?!”
At this point, you almost screamed at him. But both Bruce and Tony stayed quiet. Steve still tried to talk to you,
“Y/N, please calm down–”
“Well, damn, Rogers! Tell me what’s happening because I don’t like any of this!” you cried.
You did not notice tears were already spilling from your eyes. You were tearing up out of pure confusion and frustration. Even worry because you don’t know where the hell is your best friend and you want to see him now. Your lungs squeezed as you take in a lot of air. You cannot stop yourself from walking back and forth with your hands holding your head and your hips. It was like you want to run out of whatever this room is and jump back to that platform you suddenly appeared on. You tugged your hair between your fingers, crouching down. Tears continued to stream down your cheeks. You know that panicking is not the best thing to do in an alarming situation. But what the hell is this?
“I hate this.” you sobbed.
No one dared to touch you. The three men were all sorry. Bruce only looked down, fiddling with his fingers. Tony quietly crossed his arms as he looked everywhere in the room except you. When you felt someone crouching down in front of you, you spoke again between sobs.
“Just tell me where Howard is. Please.”
You looked up to the man in front of you with your eyes tired and still teary. Steve read and understood how you felt. Helpless. He knew how you wanted answers badly and he also knows how overwhelming it will be. So, his eyes darted to Tony, silently asking for permission to let you know about Howard. He nods. Steve glanced back at you.
“Let’s sit down back to the bed first,” he told you in the softest way he can.
Thankfully, you nodded and Steve sat next to you. You were still sobbing as he reached for your resting hand on your lap. Instantly, the knot in your stomach went tighter. You already have thoughts about where Howard is but you just want to hear an official answer.
Steve’s voice was heavy, “Y/N, Howard has already died.”
He waited for a reaction. But you remained quiet. You let out a deep, weighty exhale through your nose since you were chewing on your lips. You closed your eyes and the waterworks started again except it’s all quiet now. Tony decided to leave the room. Bruce followed. Steve felt your other hand gripping above his.
You murmured with eyes still closed, “When?”
“1991. It was a car accident.”
Your shoulders shake when you cried harder. Your heart was crushed into pieces. In your mind, you were praying that this is all just an ugly nightmare. You hoped that when you open your eyes, you will be back in your bedroom. Instead, you see Steve, Captain America. The one whom you grieved for two years. But now, he is here, in front of you, while your best friend, Howard, is dead.
“How is this even real?”
It was a question in your head that you mindlessly spoke out. Steve moved closer and delicately pulled you in his arms, where you cried silently.
“How is she?”
The moment Tony and Bruce walked by the compound’s living room on their way back to the hangar, they noticed everyone who was waiting for updates.
“She’s awake. She and Steve are talking.” Bruce answered as Tony seemed somber and lost. “We don’t really get to talk with her. But we can confirm that she is Dr. Y/N from the 1940s.”
Pepper quickly noticed something wrong with her husband. So she called him, “Tony?”
Everyone’s attention moved to the man. But he is still lost, too deep in his thinking. Pepper called him again. Bruce had to nudge him to finally snap back to reality.
“What?” he asked Bruce, totally unaware.
“Can I talk to you outside?”
Tony turned his head to Pepper and nodded. The two walked out and leaving everyone in the compound. The cold breezy air made Pepper hug herself while walking side by side with Tony on their way to the lakeside. They chose to sit on one of the benches. Pepper wastes no time starting the conversation.
“How are you?” she asked with worry in her tone.
Tony replied, “I’m fine. Some machines don’t really work sometimes. There’s always room for improvement.”
“No, not about that.” Pepper shakes her head. “I’m talking about Dr. Y/N.”
“What about her?”
Tony tried to act like he was not affected at all by your sudden presence almost an hour ago. But he knows his wife can see right through his nonchalant facade.
“Bucky told us who she was– is.” Pepper corrected herself. “How do you feel?”
Tony knows who you are. But only by name as he avoided looking at your picture ever since he can remember. You are his dad’s terrific assistant. His best friend since college. And also, his dad’s greatest regret.
Ever since he was a kid, Howard never failed to tell him about you. He told stories, facts, and kind words about you that Tony almost felt bad about your disappearance. But then, it later became an issue between his parents. Behind closed doors, he would hear his mother complaining how Howard never seemed to move on from who was already gone. He did stop talking about you, biting his tongue every time he thought of something connected to you.
They did have a better marriage. But Tony never forgets to think of you as a special person to his dad. His dad never confirmed the fact that you are his what if and should have been. Tony hated it that it caused distance between him and his father. He builds a better relationship with his mother until their very last years.
“I… don’t know.”
But meeting you now, in a short interaction, Tony contemplated. He still trying to figure his messy thoughts out but he had one thing for sure.
“But I can see why she’s important to my father.”
“So, you were frozen in ice and joined this group of superheroes…”
It’s been a couple of hours since you came to this timeline. Steve just told you how he survived what happened back in 1945 since you asked him to. undeniably, you were astonished and shocked by how it happened. He told you bits of the beginning chapters of his current life to somehow make you understand even a little. You were gladly picking up and telling him your conclusion. Steve was relieved to see you more comfortable sitting on the bed with your puffy eyes.
“Then, you go fight every time there is a threat, not just here in the country, but the world?” you ended. Steve nods. You smiled. But it didn’t last long since it slowly faded and you looked down, pursing your lips.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked.
You looked up, shaking your head, “Nothing… I just realized that I’m pretty much alone now. Everyone I know from my time is probably dead now.”
“You’re not alone. I’m still alive. You know me.” Steve quipped.
Your lips formed into a small smile, “Do I? I mean, you’ve been here for years now, Steve. You probably changed too.”
He shrugged, “Nope, still the same guy from the 40s.”
“The one who lied many times on his forms?” you teased and you two shared a laugh.
“Yes. That’s me, Ma’am.” he joked back, using the same formal tone. You laughed. Once you two calmed down, he spoke again, “But really, you’re not alone. I’m here. Buck will help you too. I’m sure everyone in the compound will.”
You nodded after he placed his hand on yours again. You still have a long list of questions in your mind and some are still left unanswered. Your heart is still crying for Howard and your loss. But having Steve, who can understand you, will hopefully help you to adapt to this crazy time.
“Thank you, Steve.”
THE SEND-OFF TAGLIST [usernames in bold means can't be tagged, will be removed if not fixed.]
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#steve rogers#steve rogers fic#steve rogers angst#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers au#steve rogers series#steve rogers enemies to lovers au#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers fanfiction#steve rogers time travel au#avengers x reader#avengers fanfiction#chris evans#chris evans x reader#chris evans fic#chris evans angst#chris evans fluff#the send off steve rogers
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Six Little Mice
Steve Harrington x Female Reader (Plus the kids!)
Warnings: None. Just some swearing, fluff and lots of kids bantering.
Word Count: 3.1K
Summary: The kids are thrilled when Steve and the reader go on their first date, but out of curiosity and protectiveness of their favorite babysitter, they go on a little spying mission...
A/N: The gif just looks like he’s in parent mode so I had to use it.
The greenery rustled, masking the arguing voices of the group that hid behind it.
“This is stupid,” Mike complained, “Why are we even here?”
“To make sure he doesn’t fuck up,” Dustin replied plainly.
“I think it’s sweet,” Eleven piped in, matter of factly, peering through one of the three pairs of binoculars the kids had in their possession, “She looks pretty.”
“He’s twenty years old, I think he knows how to go on a date,” Will added.
“He’s been on thousands,” came Lucas from behind his own pair of binoculars.
“You’re also forgetting he’s an idiot,” Max deadpanned, snatching the binoculars away from Lucas, failing to remove them from around his neck first.
“Ow! Ouch! Max!” Lucas gasped, trying to keep from choking, “A little help!”
“Sorry,” she muttered, reaching over to remove the band from around his neck, not once removing her gaze from their target.
“Guys, will you just relax?” Dustin sighed, exasperated. He was beginning to realize why Steve was always so exasperated with all of them.
“We’re just here to make sure everything goes okay,” Dustin continued, “You remember how much trouble we went to, to get him to ask her out? It’s honestly a miracle he actually did.”
It was true, just last week the six friends had joined forces with Robin Buckley, not only Steve’s friend, but yours too. She was tired of watching the two of you pine over one another, so when they had presented her with the idea, she was more than happy to help.
Ironically, it was a night much like the one where they had first met you.
The first time the kids met you, it was a traditional movie night between the friend group. Usually, it was the six of them, Steve Harrington and Robin. The duo would bring a movie they’d chosen that day from Family Video and would make a Friday night of it—watching the movie with popcorn and M&Ms, an absolute staple of their movie nights.
Steve had to work late at Family Video—thanks to Keith putting him on the closing shift for the entire week—but he’d been adamant that Robin and the kids still have their weekly movie night. Robin ended up bringing her friend from school, Y/N. You and she hadn’t had the chance to hang out much outside of school and Robin had clearly been excited to introduce you to the rambunctious teens. After that night, you had become an official part of the group.
It had been comical when you and Steve had first met. His friends, knowing him all too well, knew he was smitten at first sight. It wasn’t until later that Robin found out that you too had been harboring a crush on their older friend.
Thus, the plan began to form.
Movie night last weekend happened to fall on another night that Steve was working late at the video rental store. So like the first time you met them, it was just the kids, you and Robin.
Unbeknownst to you at the time, El broke the VCR, wiping the blood from her nose quickly before the evidence had given away what she’d done.
Then, they convinced you it must be the movie. Mike’s VCR in the basement headquarters was brand new after all—it was not, but he needed a new one anyway. Thanks to El, he’d be getting one. Two goals accomplished in one.
Robin, obviously knowing about the tapes since she was an employee, had jumped in noting that people had been having trouble with some of the newer tapes—another fib.
Step three of the plan was to send you to Family Video to return the movie and hopefully pick up another copy, or another movie. At that point it didn’t matter. The goal was for the pining pair to be alone—something that rarely occurred in the group.
They’d all crossed their fingers and hoped as they heard you leave the Wheeler household, VHS in tow, that Steve would finally have the guts to ask you out.
Which is why the kids were now spying on them at the nicest restaurant in town, Enzo’s.
“I can’t believe he brought her here for a first date,” Lucas scoffed.
“What’s wrong with Enzo’s?” Will asked.
“If you want to talk about first dates, Lucas took me to the arcade for our first date,” Max muttered.
“We were twelve. Besides, I thought you had a good time!”
“That’s besides the point,” she dismissed.
“Mike took me to the movies,” El added.
Mike and Lucas shared a bewildered, confused look, as if to say, ‘you try to figure out girls’.
“Nothing is wrong with Enzo’s,” Dustin said.
“It’s just so typical,” Mike shrugged.
“Considering Steve has been on so many dates, he’s probably been everywhere in Hawkins at least half a dozen times…” Will trailed off, reaching for Dustin’s binoculars.
“Enzo’s is romantic,” El said, “I mean look at them, they’re adorable.”
“And he even pulled her chair out for her. You bozos could learn a thing or two about manners from him,” Max chirped.
Fortunately, you and Steve were seated by the window and they all got a great side view of the date.
“I told him not to scare her away,” Dustin mumbled.
“Pretty sure if she’s on a date with him, there’s no chance of that,” Lucas grumbled.
“The point is, he’s a cute idiot,” Max said.
“Wait, you think he’s cute?” Lucas asked.
“Don’t forget that time she stared at him shirtless through the binoculars,” Dustin commented.
As one, Mike’s, El’s and Will’s heads whipped in their direction.
“When was this?” Will asked, clearly amused.
“Last year,” Dustin answered as Max said, “Doesn’t matter.”
El gave Max a bemused look and shrugged.
“I think Steve is cute.”
It’s as if the girls’ revelations flabbergasted the boys beyond words.
“Like a baby duck,” she nodded before glancing at Mike who was just staring at her in confusion, “Don’t worry Mike, I’m dating you, not him.”
“This conversation just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Will grinned, clearly enjoying this.
“I’m just amazed Steve owns a nice shirt,” Dustin mused, raising his own pair of field glasses to stare at the couple.
“How’s it going?” Mike asked, having given El a turn to stare with his pair.
“The waiter just walked away so I’m assuming they just ordered. Okay, okay now we’ve got action,” Dustin replied, the instrument never leaving his eyes.
“She’s laughing,” Max said, watching as your hair fell into your face a bit as the laughter brightened your expression, “Aww, that’s cute.”
“Steve’s not funny though,” Lucas retorted, then grunted when Max hurled the binoculars into his chest for his turn.
“You’re just bitter from the incident last year,” Max gave him a look, “And that he has more chest hair than you.”
“Don’t get me started,” Dustin grumbled.
“Honestly, I think we’re really gonna need to hear this story when this is over,” Will said.
“The point is,” Max continued, ignoring them, “She’s not laughing cause he’s funny, she’s laughing because he’s cute.”
Four boys stared at her blankly, but El nodded.
“It’s true. Max says a lot of girls giggle around guys they like,” El said.
“And you wonder why boys are constantly confused by the female species,” Mike muttered, earning a hit on the arm from El.
“Guys can we just focus here?” Dustin said, looking back at his group of friends, “Honestly I wish one of us could read lips. I’m dying to know what they’re saying.”
“Y/N’s looking at Steve like he told her she could get free movies for a year,” Lucas said, nose wrinkling in confusion, “I mean he’s cool but not that cool.”
“Honestly it’s like talking to a brick wall with you boys,” Max said, pinching the bridge of her nose, “It’s because she likes him!”
“Thank God. I got exhausted listening to him talk about how amazing Y/N is,” Dustin grumbled, “Not that she isn’t, but I was ready to just ask her out for him myself.”
“You guys are awful,” Will grinned, although he too agreed with the rest.
“Nothing’s exciting happening right now,” Dustin reported, sitting back on his heels, “They’re just talking.”
“Ugh, my foot’s asleep,” Lucas complained.
“My ass is asleep,” Mike whined.
“Then why did you agree to come along?” Max asked them both, stealing the spy gear back from her boyfriend.
“Entertainment purposes,” Mike answered.
“Besides, we do actually hope this date goes well for Steve,” Lucas pointed out, “We all annoy each other half the time, but we do care about him you know.”
“He deserves to be happy,” El said, which the others had to agree with.
“Besides, he’s been a lovesick puppy for months,” Max pointed out, “Did he just kiss her?!”
“What?!”
“Let me see!”
The four boys scrambled for binoculars, anxious to see, only to hear Max’s laughter, soon accompanied by El’s giggling.
After taking a look, they saw you and Steve talking casually while eating your dinners. You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear with one hand while twirling a bite of pasta with the other, nodding at something Steve was saying.
“Looks like you dickheads are more invested in this than you thought,” Max got out between bouts of laughter, “I mean you should’ve seen your faces!”
“He better kiss her,” Dustin muttered.
“Isn’t that bad to do on the first date?” Will asked.
“You sound like you’ve been reading the magazines I borrowed from Max,” El eyed him.
“I did,” he groaned, “I was waiting for Steve to pick us up one day and I was bored.”
“Wait, why is it bad?” Mike asked.
“Apparently it’s not ‘proper dating etiquette’ according to teen magazines. Waiting until the second or third date is recommended,” Max explained.
“I didn’t understand anything you just said,” Lucas uttered.
“Yeah, I think it’s a really stupid rule, myself,” Max quipped.
“Besides you kissed Lucas at the Snowball Dance and you hadn’t even really been on a date,” Will pointed out.
“That’s nothing! Mike kissed El practically the moment he met her!” Lucas retorted.
El sighed, rolling her eyes at the usual bickering and turned to Dustin.
“Why should he kiss her, Dustin?”
“Well for one, he spent an hour on his hair before the date. An hour,” Dustin commented, “I don’t remember the last time he spent that long on his hair. I mean, I thought his normal half an hour was bad.”
“Wait, how do you know?” Mike questioned, brow lifted in curiosity.
“Steve called me to help him get ready,” he replied nonchalantly, “It’s a good thing too cause the poor guy was so nervous he almost left without his pants.”
“Well that would be one less step for Y/N,” Max mumbled sarcastically.
“I’m gonna pretend like I never heard you say that, cause ew,” Lucas said.
“Wait, he brushed her hand,” Dustin said, “Okay Steve, that was smooth as fuck, I have to give that to him.”
Steve had brushed your hand that was resting on the table, feigning reaching for another roll from the bread basket set in the middle of the table. At the last moment though, with one slight flick of his wrist, his hand rested atop of yours, fingers sliding underneath your hand to take it into his. He flashed you a small smile causing you to reciprocate it, feeling your cheeks flame.
“Okay that’s so cute, she’s blushing like hell,” Max beamed, looking through lenses.
“We should totally start a matchmaking business,” Dustin said, feeling like a proud parent himself.
“I wonder if they’ll have a second date,” Will thought out loud.
“What’s the dating etiquette on that?” Lucas inquired, looking at the red head next to him.
“How should I know? Our second date was so long ago I barely remember and it definitely didn’t follow whatever advice they offer in magazines.”
“Do you think he’ll pay the bill?” Mike wondered, getting a rare peek since El had been hogging his binoculars.
“Oh, now I know that etiquette on that,” Max said, “The guy always pays.”
“What? How is that fair?” Lucas argued.
“I’d think that’s the polite thing to do,” Will said, looking at Max, “I’m assuming?”
“It depends though,” Mike butted in, “Shouldn’t whoever asks for the date pay?”
“Good point,” Will nodded thoughtfully.
“But I thought that’s just how it’s supposed to be, the guy paying…” El trailed off, half confused, half intrigued by the argument.
“But what if the girl wants to pay?” Lucas added.
“Then she could pay, I guess,” Max shrugged.
“But didn’t you just say—” Lucas started.
“All I gotta say is if Steve is paying, I need to get a job at Family Video if he can afford this,” came Mike’s remark as the others contributed to the argument.
Dustin, meanwhile, had been focusing on the two of you, tuning out the argument. He may not have said it aloud often, but Steve was one of his best friends and he looked up to the older boy. He had obviously noticed his crush on you and of course, given him shit about it. But at the end of the day, he cared about his friend’s wellbeing, just as he knew the other kids around him did.
Steve had spent so much time looking out for them and in their own, mischievous way, this was them looking out from him.
But, by the looks of it, they wouldn’t need to do much protecting as it seemed like the date was going extremely well.
“Guys shut up, I think they’re about to leave!” Dustin exclaimed, seeing the two of you stand, leaving your empty plates behind.
“Can you see how much of a tip he left?” Mike asked El, grunting as he received another hit against the chest from her.
A few minutes later, they saw you and Steve exit the restaurant, heading towards his maroon BMW.
“This is it, Steve,” Dustin mumbled to himself, “Go on. Kiss her.”
They were close enough that the need for the binoculars weren’t completely necessary, so the other kids peeked through the bushes, watching anxiously as well.
The intonation of yours and Steve’s voices floated towards their hiding spot, but they couldn’t make out what was being said. They could however see the million dollar smile on Steve’s face. One they’d seen often when he was with them, but hadn’t seen much at all with girls his own age and it made them all smile at the fact.
“Do you think he’s gonna kiss her?” Will asked, peering at the line of his friends.
“Maybe she’ll surprise him and kiss him,” Max smirked.
“She wants to kiss him, I can tell,” El nodded.
“What? How do you know that?” Mike asked, puzzled.
“She just licked her lips and looked at him,” El responded plainly, like it was the most obvious answer in the world.
“Those fucking magazines, I swear,” Lucas muttered.
“Guys, they’ve gotten closer!” Dustin shouted in as much of a whisper he could.
Max squealed, “His hand is on her cheek!”
“Shh!” Mike hissed, “He’ll hear us!”
Lucas reached over Max, Dustin and El to shove Mike, accidentally shoving Dustin forward in the process.
“Oh fuck,” Dustin said, the binoculars falling from his hands, “Just when it was getting good!”
“Hey!” Mike exclaimed, trying to shove Lucas back.
“Will you two knock it off?” Max said, looking back at them.
“Uh, guys?” Will said, his eyes scanning where you and Steve had been only moments ago.
The group continued arguing and trying to shush one another, Dustin still on the ground reaching for his binoculars.
“Guys? Where’d they go?” Will tried again.
“Hush! You’re going to give us away!” Max hissed.
“Hey shitheads!”
It was the familiar deep voice, that was raised just the slightest that made them all freeze.
“Shit,” Dustin cursed.
They all looked up to see Steve looming above them, staring down at them in the bush, hands on his hips.
“What are you guys doing?” Steve asked, gaze passing over each one of them.
“Uh, felt in the mood for some Italian food?” Dustin offered weakly.
Steve gave him a look, “Really, Henderson?”
“How’d you even know we were here? You were half way across the parking lot!” Lucas exclaimed.
“I heard rustling in the bushes,” Steve said, “I thought it was mice or some shit until I realized these mice had voices.”
He gave them a pointed look, to which they all had the decency to look sheepish.
“We just wanted to know how your date was going,” El offered innocently.
“Yeah! We just wanted to know it went well,” Dustin added.
“So, did you kiss her?” Lucas asked.
“Are you going to ask her on a second date?” Max questioned.
“Is she your girlfriend now?” Mike probed.
“In my defense, this was all Dustin’s idea and they dragged me here,” Will said, earning a well meaning slap upside the head from Lucas.
Steve sighed, his usual exhausted—perhaps tinged with a bit of amusement this time—sigh.
“Go on home guys, I’ll talk to you all later,” he said before turning to head back to his car.
You were sitting in the passenger’s side of Steve’s car, watching Steve in confusion. Across the parking lot, his back towards the car, it looked like he was talking to a bush.
You weren’t exactly sure what had happened. One moment, it seemed like he was about to kiss you, his hand on your cheek and face inching closer towards yours. You were a nanosecond away from your eyes fluttering closed when he spoke.
“Hold on. I’ll be right back. Go ahead and wait for me in the car, okay?”
You were startled and a tad bit wary as you got into the car, sliding into the seat, watching him walk towards the greenery he was now facing. A big part of you really hoped you hadn’t done something to ruin the moment.
You weren’t left to ponder your thoughts too long though because a minute or two later, he was returning to the car, opening the door and sliding in behind the wheel.
“Everything okay?” you asked, hesitantly.
“Yup,” he smiled, looking over at you.
“Were you just talking to a bush?”
He chuckled, taking your chin in his hand before pulling your face towards his in the sweetest kiss you’re sure you’ve ever had.
It wasn’t until you’d parted that he actually answered your question.
“No,” he grinned, “Just six little mice.”
#steve harrington#steve harrington smut#steve harrington angst#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington headcanon#steve harrington fic#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington fluff#stranger things#stranger things fluff#stranger things fic#stranger things headcanons
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Could you do Mikan x Male!Ultimate Surgeon!S/O, please? P.S. How many requests with Mikan you have now?
Mikan Tsumiki with a SHSL surgeon boyfriend
4!! or 5.... I just counted in my head and I forgot the number so it's either 4/5
by the time you're reading this I'm on a date with somebody
-Mod Souda
❤ Other people can hardly understand your medical talks. The two of you have practically invented your own language - its a mix between actual complicated medical terms and just home terms the two of you come up with. Because of the status of both of you, you two can work like anywhere, and you often chose to work together, so when the two of you are in an operating room and you start talking in that We-Live-Together-And-We-Are-Both-Ultimates-In-The-Same-Field talk, your coworkers have a hard time understanding the commands coming their way.
You understand, right?, her note reads, You did not wake up when I shook you so I had decided to let you be peaceful. Please do not be mad, Mr. Doctor.
You always used to call her Ms. Nurse in high school whenever you needed help with something.
I hope you have a good day! And then a doodle of a blushing smiley face. You find a pen and draw a doodle of the two of you standing together, holding hands. If she comes home before you then she can have a little present of her own.
She usually wakes you up to give you a hug before she goes. Her work is a lot farther, plus the train arrives rather early, so she is up and ready to go before you can even rub the sleep from your eyes. There is no contact barrier between you and her. As long as nobody else is around, she will snake her fingers around you, pure intentions a sudden goal, holding her body against yours as if she is holding you back from leaving.
❤ Busy schedules; complicated schedules. The days where the two of you can actually see each other for at least 16 hours are rare. But that's perfectly fine, often you work side by side anyway.
❤ Thinking about Hopes Peak Academy, the students that needed to be diagnosed with/ treated for something were probably having a field day with both a nurse and a surgeon in their school (nevertheless the best prodigy nurse and surgeon).
❤ She definitely feels more comfortable around you, too, you understand her interests on a level that nobody else could.
❤ ^ You will actually understand her when she rambles on about the different forms of bandaging.
❤ Yeah about that schedule thing - she is so so so happy she is with somebody that knows how hectic the hours can be. Especially since the both of you are Ultimates, you are in high demand and ask to be everywhere at once. She is the type of employee that needs to put on that purple cape with her shifts end on it so she can remember when to clock-out, she would stay there all day otherwise.
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Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Part Eight (Mycroft Holmes x Reader)
Sorry for such a long delay!! It’s my little boy’s first birthday this week so I’ve been running around making arrangements and picking up last minute presents! Hope you enjoy this little chapter. It’s only 3K words, but it is a build up ready for the next chapter which will contain smut! Not full blown smut (I don’t think Mycroft is ready for that yet!) but still smutty nonetheless!
I will separate the smutty bit enough so that you can skip it if you want, but it will be referenced later on in that chapter!
Word Count- 3062
This morning differed from the last few that you had experienced since staying at Mycroft's home, namely because Mycroft had awoken before you this time, but also because it was the first morning you had ever been awoken by long fingers prodding at your forehead. That and also because, despite last night's late events, you managed to arise at a reasonable 9am.
"Did you know there are a lot nicer ways to wake somebody up?" You questioned, opening your eyes to see Mycroft staring at you with a slight frown to his brow. He retracted his hand slightly and shifted to sit a little higher.
"You know, Sherlock as a child once woke me in a similar way. I felt small scratches on my eyebrows and woke up to see him crouched over me with a smug little grin on his face. As it turns out, he had slipped sleeping pills into my cup of tea before bed and in my slumber covered my eyebrows in toothpaste." You covered your mouth with your hand and snorted slightly. "He'd come in to see if there was anything left beneath them, which, of course, there wasn't.. claimed it was just an experiment. I'd like to laugh and be more dignified about it upon looking back, but I struggle because he was only six and already a sod."
"Okay, you've proven there are in fact worse ways to wake up." You didn't make big deals out of it, but every time Mycroft welcomed you a little more into the stories of his youth, you can't help but feel your heart warm. It may not seem like much, but coming from Mycroft, a very private man who hasn't been treated the best over the years, it meant everything. You stretched and moved your hands up to rub your eyes, flinching a little as your fingers brushed against the bit of your head above your eyebrows. "Bugger." You winced, poking again and feeling a small lump.
"I was going to warn you but you laughed at my traumatic eyebrow removal story." You groaned and recalled your memory of last night and where you believe the bruise originated from.
"I jumped into bed last night sulking a bit that you wouldn't talk to me and uh.. misjudged.." Mycroft snickered slightly from your side, you swatted his arm. "Tit. I'm blaming you. This wouldn't have happened if you didn't go all Han Solo in carbonite on me." You spoke playfully, letting him know you weren't truly peeved.
"I thought you said it was cute?"
"That was clearly a concussion talking." You stretched once more and climbed out of the bed, walking over to a mirror above a dressing table and rolling your eyes. "Might need your special government powers to clear out the cafe else Ms Woodall will think we've had a domestic." Bernice Woodall, owner of one of your favourite little cafes settled on the outskirts of St James' Park was a very.. particular lady. She could have a good laugh one moment, and start a quarrel with a customer over the amount they stir their tea the next. But, you'd have to admit, she has one hell of an all day breakfast menu; you could practically taste one of her omelettes just by thinking about it, making your stomach growl loudly.
"I would but, if I am to be very honest, she genuinely scares me a little. I think she could overthrow MI5 so I daren't even try." You stood and moved into Mycroft's bedroom, grabbing your bag of clothes and picking through a few of the pairs of your jeans Anthea had brought and scanning through the t-shirts. Your fingers brushed over the creases of the shirt that had formed from being stuffed in the bag and frowned.
"Perhaps it would be more suitable for you to pop those in one of the chest of drawers? I'm sure I have at least one drawer empty.." Myc's voice came from behind you and you fell from your crouching position, clutching your heart.
"You and your bloody spy legs, you just scared the shit out of me." You stood back up, your pile of today's clothes in one hand and the bag of the rest in the other. "Giving me a drawer in your place already? Ooh Myc you are serious." You grinned playfully, following him as he guided you to a set of drawers in the opposite corner of the room. Mycroft halted and opened his mouth to make some kind of comment but you cut him off, placing your folded clothes inside the Edwardian furniture. "Only teasing.. I'm just glad you haven't kicked me out yet. Though I don't think my own bed will ever feel as comfortable as yours. I might not want to go back now you've spoilt me, you'll just have to be blunt when you're bored of me." You winked at him and carried your outfit into the en suite bathroom to get ready. Mycroft headed over to his wardrobe to pluck out his own clothes, electing to remain somewhat casual for your trip to breakfast with a pair of navy chinos and a lighter blue button up before muttering slightly under his breath.
"And if I never am?"
In the rare parts of his life where he allowed to imagine himself getting into a relationship, Mycroft had never expected himself to be overwhelmed with so much emotion so quickly, but with you it was almost as though he had no control; as though there had been so many pent up feelings over the years that they just seem to have exploded without any rational thought behind it. And whilst these were all new to Mycroft, and how he still wasn't entirely sure about everything that he felt when it came to things with you, the only thing he was positive about was that he didn't want it to go. And that meant not wanting you to leave. Which was ridiculous. You had just under two weeks left together until you would be needed back at work, and he would have to return to fighting on Britain's behalf, but the thought of you not being at home to greet him when he finished, or him not being able to pick you up in one of his cars from the Yard to take you both home made him feel a sense of disappointment. He shook himself from his thoughts when you emerged from the bathroom fully dressed.
"On second thoughts, I may take the risk. I'm not sure I can have members of the general public associating me with a Sex Pistols fan, no matter how humerous you may believe that top to be." You walked out proudly wearing your 'God Save the Queen' t-shirt with a grin. "You are aware tha-"
"That when the Sex Pistols released their song 'God Save the Queen' in 1977 it was around the same time of The Queen's silver jubilee and thus it was banned for a while on the premise of being 'bad gross taste'? You've only mentioned it every time I wear this shirt.. Though if your research extended enough then you'd know Paul Cook said it wasn't written specifically FOR the jubilee.. So if one of Lizzie's spies catch me in the act, I shall make a very sincere apology." Mycroft took his own clothes into the bathroom to get ready himself and scoffed.
"But I AM one of 'Lizzie's Spies'." He mused, leaning slightly against the doorframe after settling the outfit on the counter. You turned around on your heel and stood up on your tiptoes, pushed him more forcefully against the doorframe and placed your hands on Mycroft's cheeks, pressing your lips softly against his. His shock subsided before he kissed you tentatively, his hand resting on your lower back. You pulled away after a moment and ushered him into the bathroom to get ready, closing the door behind you and leaving him still slightly red faced and confused.
"Consider that my sincere apology." You headed over to the dresser and began to tie up your hair. "But hurry up, I'm starving." You called, moving the hairbrush too low and brushing against your bruise, making you wince loudly. From the bathroom, you heard Mycroft's voice before the sound of him brushing his teeth.
"Head?"
"Well I was thinking more along the lines of breakfast, but who knows what the day will bring." You heard the sound of Mycroft choking on his toothpaste and wished to whatever deity out there that you could have seen his face. Yes, you had promised to try and be less overbearing with your comments but he walked into that one. You grinned and sat down on the side of the bed, briefly scanning through your phone before Mycroft emerged, his face still burnt a red as deep as the burgundy sweatshirt he had paired with his outfit. The fact he had come out at all at least let you know that your joke hadn't taken it too far.
"You're a minx."
"And you wouldn't change it. Now let's go!"
---
Only 20 minutes later had you both be found sitting comfortably in Ms Woodall's cafe, tucking into your respective meals- with you noticing, but not commenting on, Mycroft eating comfortably until the last bite of toast was gone, a sense of pride warming within you. Not too long after, Bernice herself headed over to clear up your tables.
"I trust everything was up to standard?" She asked, piling your plates onto her little trolley and offering top ups on your drinks.
"Splendid as usual, Ms Woodall." Mycroft smiled, accepting his new cup of tea and cradling it comfortably between his long fingers.
"Still proving to be our favourite place for breakfast." You praised, your hand reaching out to fondly brush against Mycroft's before taking your coffee into hand. Bernice watched your movements and raised her brow knowingly.
"Took the pair of you long enough. I had been half tempted to abstain from feeding you here until I got one of you to say something, it had started making me feel a bit sick watching you eye each other up each time you'd get up to order something." You rested your elbow on the table, hand covering your mouth as you let out a laugh.
"Yes, well, I can't promise you the ogling will stop on my behalf." You teased.
"And why should it? Mr Holmes in those posh little outfits is enough to make anyone swoon." And with that she had headed back out into the kitchen again.
"There you go, Myc. Should anything happen to me, my replacement is only round the corner."
"Mmm, and she does make a rather good cup of tea. Perhaps I shouldn't wait that long." His lip raised slightly in a smirk as he took a sip of his hot beverage.
"Oh really? Need I start getting possessive; stand my ground?" Before Mycroft could quip back, Ms Woodall had returned with a plate of biscuits in hand.
"Means you've already answered my next question, anywho." She hummed, placing the plate down between you and perching on the corner of the table beside yours. The pair of you gave her a questioning look and she continued, pointing up to her own forehead. "Tony and I were just as bad at the start of our marriage. Anywhere and everywhere we could get our hands on each other, I ended up with bumps and scrapes from alleys, the backs of cars, even in that one restaurant toilet that time.." You choked on your coffee and Mycroft all but dropped his teacup. "Oh don't act so ignorant, even us oldies had sex in their time." Your eyes caught Mycroft's and you could see him stifling down a laugh, biting softly on his knuckle- which, in itself, shouldn't have been as attractive to you as it was, but it is what it is.
"And with that thought, we best be off. Got a movie date planned." You commented, coughing down your own laugh as Bernice continued.
"Though to be fair it never stopped, all that spontaneity. Even towards the end, he could be like a lad of nineteen with how it was. God the positions, you'd have mistaken me for a gymnast and he could last for ages. I'd just lie there wondering 'will this pleasure never end'?" You could feel tears prick at your eyes as your laughter began to break through. "And then of course once Tony passed a couple years ago it all stopped. Shame really, all those years together, ending how it did.. Though sometimes I'm not sure if it's him that I miss or his massiv-"
"Ms Woodall we really should be going, thank you for breakfast." Mycroft hastily threw a few £20 notes on the table, far too much to cover your meal but enough to distract Bernice while tugging your hand and beelining for the door. Once safely distanced from the apparent nymphomaniac cafe owner you had to stop in your tracks to let out a laugh, Mycroft's hand still in yours as you doubled over.
"I can't believe she said that! She's so open."
"Evidently." Mycroft's comment set you off again, his laughter following, ignoring how you caught the attention of a few people passing by. "I do hope you are in no rush for breakfast there again any time soon, I don't think I can look her in the eye for a good while."
"Still so sure on replacing me with her so soon? I think she'd break you."
"Or turn me into a whore." You snorted and settled back to walking.
---
"Drink?"
"Please. Tea, hold the sexual history."
"I'll try my very best, though, much like my tea, I imagine my list would be abysmal in comparison to old Ms Woodall." You flicked on the kettle, eager to replace the half drunk coffee you had discarded on the cafe table in your escape from listening about pensioner sex. "Will you load up the movie?"
"No. But I shall get the film ready to go.. How the American dialect found its way back to England will never fail to disappoint me." You had followed him into the room shortly after, mugs on the table and settled on the sofa beside Mycroft.
"You know, typically, when people elect for a movie day, they don't choose the tenth movie in the series to watch first." You grinned, tucking your legs beneath your body in an attempt to get comfortable. You continued your shuffling movements and heard Mycroft's voice.
"I believe we both agree that Carry On Cleo is the superior of the 31 movies for, well, a multitude of reasons." He trailed.
"I shan't object. It's sweet that you remember it's the first one we watched together.. Had it not been for you hearing Kenneth's famous 'Infamy, infamy' line persuading you to come over, I fear that I'd have been set up with one of Greg's mates by now, sitting in a pub nursing a G+T."
"I never said I remembered that."
"You didn't have to. You and I both know that your favourite was always Carry on Camping."
"Yes, well.. Opinions change with experience."
"Is this our equivalent of a patronus? Yours has changed and matched with mine? Very cute, Myc. Might I expect you in a 'Never Mind the Bollocks' shirt next week?" You teased, electing to lay down with your head lightly using Mycroft's thigh as a pillow, feeling grateful when he didn't shove you off with a comment about ruining the linen of his trousers, and instead took to softly brushing his fingers over your head, narrowly missing the purple bump each time.
"You'd have better chances of catching me running naked down the street."
"Is that a promise?" A flick to your forehead.
"Just play the bloody film."
---
By the time the film had finished, your cheeks had hurt from smiling and your eyelids had felt heavy. Whilst getting up at a reasonable hour had felt like an achievement this morning, the lack of sleep from the previous night was beginning to catch up to you.
"Myc? Would it be entirely improper to nap on the sofa when there are multiple reasonable beds upstairs before continuing our films?"
"Only about as improper as it is to have a midday nap when you're not a young child." You shifted your head from his lap and sat up, ignoring the fact that you actually did end up ruining the linen of his trousers with the crease of your skull.
"Let me rephrase. Mycroft, would you be willing to break your proper posh boy streak and nap with me on the sofa?"
"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to deviate from one's usual behaviours in order to satisfy those one holds dear."
"That's a yes, right? Good, lay down, else I may just collapse right at this moment." Mycroft's sofa certainly was a significantly bit bigger than those usually found in somebody's front room, but it was still nowhere near wide enough for two people to lay with distance. Even still, he followed your request and rotated his body, lifting his long legs to rest down the side of the sofa while you slid into the gap beside him. He eventually circled his arm beneath you and rested his hand on your hip, your face softly brushing against the comforting material of his jumper. "If you drop me, I will be holding you accountable." You mumbled, shifting your body closer to his. He merely hummed, his hand slightly bunching in your shirt and his arm tightening. "I'd always hoped you were secretly a cuddler."
"Make a point of it or tell Sherlock and I'll throw you off." You couldn't even think of a witty comeback before your slumber had taken over, the smell of Mycroft and the sounds of him breathing overstimulating your senses. Mycroft being a secret cuddler hadn't been as much of a shock to you as it probably should have, but you welcome it completely and feel incredibly thankful that he trusts you enough to let you be that close to him, to feel his body in such a way. And you would embrace that- and him- as long as he would let you.
#mycroft holmes#mycroft#mycroft holmes x reader#mycroft holmes x you#reader insert#mycroft smut#mycroft holmes smut#mycroft holmes x reader smut#mycroft holmes x you smut#bbc mycroft#bbc mycroft holmes#bbc mycroft holmes x reader#bbc mycroft holmes x you#bbc mycroft holmes x reader smut#bbc mycroft holmes x you smut#bbc sherlock#bbc sherlock holmes#sherlock x reader#bbc sherlock x reader#sherlock holmes#greg lestrade#gregory lestrade#lestrade#moriarty#jim moriarty#james moriarty#john watson#doctor watson
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Happier Than Ever
Angelique Bouchard x fem!reader
Request : Would you consider writing some jealous or possessive Angelique? It’s okay if not! :) - Anonymous
Warning(s) : swearing, angst, small nsfw, trauma, claustrophobia,
Words : 3k
A/N : I do apologize, this probably wasn’t what you wanted but it just came to me. I like this, even if there’s spelling mistakes. I don’t proof read :/. I do hope you all enjoy it! Sorry it’s taken so long! Xx
"Angie, this isn't fair!"
Angie only grinned at you as she finished tightening the chains that were wrapped around you. Standing up straight, she looked down at you. A pouty smile on her lips. Angie placed her hands on her hips.
"You know, we could have avoided this situation of you loved me."
"I do love you! Please just get me out of here." Your tone desperate. Struggling against the chains despite the small amount of space you had in the box. Angie threw her head back in laughter.
"Angelique!" You barked at her. Catching her off guard at the harsh tone. She stopped laughing at the sound of her full name. She leant down slowly again. Letting her slim fingers trace against your cheek. Despite your obvious fear, you couldn't help but lean into her touch. Your eyelids closing as you felt her lips on your forehead. Sniffing softly, looking up at her with glossy eyes. Expecting her to let you out.
"Better keep your head down, goldwing."
"Angie don't do this to me. You know I hate small spaces!" You nearly screamed. Feeling panic arise in you. Angie said nothing as she stood at full height once again. She seemed to think of something to say. It wasn't usual for the elegant Angie Bouchard to not know what to say. Moment cut short as she broke the silence. "So here's the deal."
Angie moved her hands up under her lace dress, watching with pleasure as she saw how your eyes widened in shock. Pulling the lacy panties down her legs, snapping it at her left ankle. "I'm gonna destroy everything you love." She said as she leant down and covered your lower face with her underwear. Tugging it behind your ears. "And you're gonna take some time to think about us."
Angie grinned from ear to ear as she grabbed the lid of the coffin and started to close it. "See you soon my love." Blowing you a kiss before closing the lid. Leaving you in complete darkness with your lover's underwear as a mask on your face. +
-
"It's not like I don't want her. Sometimes I feel as I'm more honest in my dreams and she's been in quite a few."
"Does she make you happy?"
"The more time goes, I feel as if I was made for her. Angie's comet that comes around more then I do."
"Have you been getting sleep Y/N?"
"I haven't slept since Sunday. Midnight is like 3 AM to me."
Julia leant back in her chair and crossed her legs as she watched you. Something was off. "You never answered my question if she made you happy Y/N."
You sat up and looked at Julia. Feeling your nerves burn. "Was this Liz's idea? Of course it was!"
Your tone caught Julia off guard. Stumbling with her words as you walked your way towards the door, only to watch you come back.
"I hate the way she looks at me. I can't stand the dialogue she can't speak. I know she'll never be satisfied and though I ty to tell myself that I hate her - I can't. It's all I think about when I'm behind the wheel. Is this how I'm going to feel forevermore?"
Your tone cracking at the end of speaking. Sniffing and clearing your throat, drying your eyes; looking back at Julia. Seeing her surprised eyes.
"I could never hate her. She's all I've got left of mother."
With that you left Julia's office. Nearly running down the stairs. You felt your throat tighten. Ears ringing like high keys of a piano being played. A storm forming inside your head. Sounds of loud speaking blasting in your head. Vision black and white, spiralling.
Reaching the front door, using your strength to open the old wooden door open. As if someone hit you in the face with a pillow, the wind hit you. The heavy rain flooding down replacing the blasting sound in your ears. Closing your eyes, feeling everything go away for just a moment. Letting your shoulders fall back down.
"Y/N!"
Turning around you saw Liz standing at the top of the stairs. Her face tense. You turned around again and started walking outside. Hearing her fast steps behind you. Gasping, the raindrops cold against your burning skin. Taking a moment to collect yourself, a moment too long as Liz grabbed your arm, nearly dragging you back inside.
"Are you insane?!"
Ripping your arm from her grip. "What do you mean Liz? Am I not allowed to have my opinions?" Turning so your back was facing her. Looking out again, waiting. You heard Liz groan of frustration. "Your mother wouldn't ha-"
"Don't talk to me about mother! I thought we both agreed to keep her out of this Liz!"
Your mother died when you were a teenager, when Carolyn was little. She wasn't sick. It was a sudden passing. One morning she just collapsed and didn't wake up. Of course, everything changed after that. Except Roger. Roger is Roger. Still an asshole. You and Liz became more distant and cold against each other. You never really understood why. You loved your aunt. Then Angie happened. It ruined your relationship completely. Silly you to fall in love. You'd gone to therapy to help with the trauma of seeing your mother die in front of you but you stopped years ago. You got over it, or at least pretended to. Nothing lasts, you knew the deal.
"Y/N, are you waiting for someone?" Liz asked.
"Maybe."
"She won't come, you know. She never does. She has you as a souvenir, just waiting to sell you off."
"And you think making me talk to Julia will change my mind?!" You turned around to look at her. Daring her to continue, but of course. She didn't. It's so weird that we care so much, until we don't. Things you once enjoyed, just kept you employed now. The things you longed for, will one day be boring to you.
You turned around around again, silently agreeing with Liz. She wasn't coming. You started walking.
"Y/N! You'll catch a cold!"
"So be it! It's not like any of you would care if I actually got sick, or collapsed like mother!" You screamed back at her.
"Y/N stop walking, god dammit!"
You turned around and saw Liz running towards you. Wrapping her jacket around you, the one you loved as a kid. She squeezed your arm. "Be back to dinner." You nodded your head short and flipped up the hood and made your way into town.
The walk was mid long, but cold in the rain. And of course wet. leaving you looking like a wet dog by the time you reached the town. People giving you weird glances as you stepped into Angel Bay. Stepping into the elevator, breathing normally again after walking through stinking fish. Pulling down the hod and scratching your scalp. Brushing through your hair with your fingers, trying to make it look presentable. Ending up with tying it in a ponytail. Opening the jacket, to show that there was some part of you that was dry.
As you stepped out, you bumped into someone. The person nearly knocking you to the ground, had they not held a strong grip around your waist.
"I deeply apologise! I didn't see where I was going." A man said as he helped you stand up straight again.
"No worries! I am as much to blame as you. I'm Y/N." You chuckled and held your hand out.
The guy didn't take your hand, but hugged you instead. Catching you by surprise but sooner or later you hugged him back. "You're a hugger I see."
He pulled back and scratched the back of his neck and looked to the ground.
"I'm sorry, I should have asked."
"No. Not at all. It's alright. I do love a good hug." You smiled at him and softly hit his arm. He gave you a small smile back. "I'm Matt."
"Nice to meet you Matt. I sense you're new here."
Matt nodded his head and collected his papers that'd been on the floor. "Yeah, I had an interview earlier. With Ms. Bouchard?"
You nodded. "Scary thing, isn't she?"
Matt seemed hesitant to answer. As if he was scared people would hear his answer. It made you laugh. "No need to be scared. She can't hurt you, not while I'm around, buddy."
Matt seemed to relax as you said it. Giving you a smile back. "Thanks Y/N."
"You wanna grab coffee tomorrow? At the little cafe by the corner at 11?"
"I'd like that. See you then Y/N!" Matt waved as he stepped inside the elevator. You waved back until the doors closed and then made your way towards Angie's office.
"Hello Miriam, is she in?"
"Good morning Y/N. Yes, I'll le-"
You opened the door to her office to see her on the phone. Closing the door behind you. Angie raised an eyebrow and looked you up and down as she continued to speak with whoever it was on the line. Suddenly, locking eye contact with you.
"Well, I'd be dammed."
She kept the eye contact as she put down the telephone and stood up. Not saying anything, but just looking at you. Taking you in. It almost made you feel uncomfortable. Your gaze turned to her desk, on the left corner. The little cow you'd given her as a present years ago.
"You still have the cow I gave you."
"Don't change subject."
The sharp reply caught you off guard. Nearly making you flinch. Rolling your shoulders back, looking up at her, seeing how tense her shoulders were. She'd clenched her jaw.
"What subject? You didn't even speak."
"Oh, but you certainly did."
"What on earth are you talking about Angie?"
"Coffee? Tomorrow at 11?" She mimicked your voice. That's when it hit you. Of course she'd know.
"You have some secret spy out there?"
"Do not take me for a fool Y/N!" Angie rarely shouted at you. You heard her scream and shout at others but never at you. It made you flinch and want to crawl out of your skin. Slowly, you sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk. Pulling the jacket tighter to you.
"I-I don't think you're a fool Angie."
"Then give me one good reason I shouldn't fire him."
"Fire him? He was just being nice!"
"Nice? Darling girl, he likes you."
Angie's tone got slick. Her lips curling into that familiar wicked smile. She slowly leant over her desk.
"He doesn't like me. He was just being nice since be bumped into me." You shrugged your shoulders.
"I think I know when someone smears themselves over what's mine." Angie crosses her arms and straightened her back.
"Alright, don't start with that. He was just being nice. You scare him." You crossed your legs and leant back in the chair. Trying to get comfortable in an uncomfortable chair was impossible.
"You know when you said you'd get me anything?"
"Yes."
"Get new chairs."
Angie groaned and walked around her desk, stopping behind you. Letting her hands rest on your shoulders. Automatically you tensed up at her touch. Making her tsk.
"So tense, my dear." She gripped your shoulders more firmly and leant down to whisper in your ear, "Do I scare you?"
A small blush crept up your chest. No matter how many times she touched you, it always had the same reaction and you doubted it'd ever change. Clearing your throat. "A little."
Angie's low chuckle sent shivers down your spine. Her hands squeezed your shoulders as she left small little kisses on the back of your neck before standing up again. You heard her do something behind you. "Why do you smell like a wet dog."
You snorted. "Well, someone forgot to pick me up as they promised."
"I had another meeting darling."
You rolled your eyes. "When don't you have one."
You felt Angie stand right behind you. Her front pressing against your back.
"Let me make it up to you." Her hands slid down your shoulders, further down your chest. Slipping under your shirt, cupping your breasts in your bra, giving them a squeeze. Leaning down and brushing her nose against the back of your neck. Her scent filling you up. Leaning your head slightly back, pushing your chest up in her hands. Angie's lips curled into a satisfied smirk.
"No, no stop."
You jerked away from her, standing up and shaking your whole body. Readjusting your shirt and bra. Angie turned around and glared at you. "What's the matter with you?"
"I don't want it."
"Don't want what Y/N."
"Just - can you step away."
For once she did what you asked. It was a first for both of you. You'd never neglected her touch. In one way or another. "Sorry. I had another fight with Liz before I came here. She mentioned my mother, that's all."
Angie watched you with curiosity. "No, don't look at me like that."
"Like what?"
"I'm not telling you about it."
"I never said you had to, sweetheart." Her tone was smooth like butter. Her posture told a different story. You looked up at Angie. Those piercing blue eyes. You'd get lost in them like an ocean.
"She said you only kept me a souvenir. Planning to sell me off." It was barely a whisper. You saw how Angie's whole aura changed again. Angie scoffed and walked back to her desk. Lightning a cigarette. "Liz and her extraordinary thoughts."
"Am I a souvenir to you Angie?"
"Of course not." Angie said as she sat down and opened her folder again. Setting her brain on work again.
It went quiet and you just stood there. Watching her work. Of course. Work. If she didn't get what she wanted, what was the point?
"I'm not a mirror you know."
She didn't answer.
"Times have changed, haven't they?"
Angie hummed. Clearly not listening. You knew her motto. When she got bored, she got something new. In this case it involved you.
"What a drag to love you like I do."
This caught her attention. "What do you mean Y/N."
"You know, Julia asked if you made me happy. I didn't answer her question."
Angie slowly stood up as you spoke. Her expression hard. Serious. Frightening.
"You're all it takes for me to break a promise. Silly me for falling in love with you."
You turned your back to her and walked towards the door only to jump away as a vase was thrown behind you at the door. Shattering all over the floor around the door. You turned around and looked at Angie with shock written across your face. "Are you insane?!" You looked back to the broken glass laying across the floor. Stepping away from it.
"Everybody dies. Surprise, surprise." Angie said as she walked towards you. Backing you up against the wall. Trapping you.
"You could have hit me!"
"I could never dare lay a finger on you, my dear."
"You almost did!"
"Don't tell, goldwing."
You looked over to the glass again. Angie pulled your chin back and leant in to kiss you. The kiss bruising. Harsh but full of passion. Something she never lacked. Pulling away when she needed air, but not too far. Brushing her nose against yours.
"I'd be dammed before I ever see that man touch you again."
"You're jealous."
"Not in the slightest. I don't share what's rightfully mine."
"Rightfully? Let's get one thing straight, you don't own me Angie."
"Oh, I don't? You have been to clarify that many times, my darling girl."
The statement made you blush. You hit her shoulder. "I'm allowed to have friends."
"Friends who don't touch."
You rolled your eyes at her. Stepping away from her once again. Stepping over the glass. Careful not to step in it. "You know, if you can't handle me having friends. I can't handle you." -
+
You don't remember how you got into the coffin in the first place. You remember walking to the door again and then everything going black. Then waking up with Angie leaning above you, and you tied up in a coffin. You knew she was a witch. Since Barnabas came, everyone knew. Everyone who was a Collins. It didn't really change anything. It made you understand her outstanding beauty. A powerful woman, quite literally.
Struggling once again with the chains that were wrapped tight around you. The underwear making it hard to breathe, the air dampening your face; making it hot. Panic started creeping up inside you. Your eyes started to sting as you continued to struggle. The general air inside the coffin was musty, and bad. Small tears making their way down your cheeks. Sobs bubbling up in your throat, threatening to spill.
"Angelique!"
You screamed the best you could as a sob covered it. Feeling your whole body sake with fear. Your ears were popping the moment you started screaming. You didn't knew what you were screaming, if it was for help or Angie. The more tears, the more screams and the more fear. You knew Angie would do the opposite of what she said she would. If this was her idea of a punishment, you weren't sure if you'd ever recover. Different thoughts went through your head. Was Liz right? Was Angie right? Were you the only bad person here? Were Angie the cause of everything?
"Angelique! Come back! Please!"
You knew she wasn't there. You knew she wasn't coming back. A point of you wanted her to come back and another didn't. People heard you, but listened to her. You were never heard. Happier than ever, and you wished it wasn't true.
You were wasting your breath. You didn't relate to her. You ever told anyone anything bad about her. You loved her. She was your everything but at what cause? She ruined everything good for you.
Nearly choking on your tears, the air getting tighter. Using the last you had, screaming your lungs out. The ringing in your ears getting worse. Was this how you were gonna die? By the hands of the woman you loved? Was this the price you had to pay for loving her? You'd never get over her. She held your heart, even if you didn't want her to.
Happier than ever. A fake story. Nothing lasts, you knew the deal.
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battle of brains (m)
PART OF THE REPUTATION SERIES
summary: when it comes to academics, everyone knows not to disrupt Park Jimin with his high-standing reputation. but how is a transfer student from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry supposed to know about maintaining his reputation? spoiler alert: they don’t care.
pairing: jimin x fem!reader
genre: hogwarts au, nerd!jimin, enemies to lovers au | smut
warnings: jimin and yn are arrogant idiots, inappropriate usage of Head Student/prefect equipment, alcohol consumption, the story sort of rushes towards the end because I was (and am) so tired of writing this lmao
smut present in the form of: sexual tension, slight dirty talk maybe idk what i’m doing, light bratty and dom vibes, fingering, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, bondage, one (1) spank, dry humping, slight voyeurism (they have sex in a bathroom, it’s not as gross as it sounds i promise), yeah idk there’s a lot of filth i lost control lol
word count: 25k
a/n: I have poured my blood sweat and tears (by bts) into this fic and appreciate the patience of everyone on this site. hope you enjoy it xx
.
Park Jimin enters the school grounds the same way he has for the past six years: smirk on his face, books in his bag, and a knowledge in his heart that he is the smartest student standing within these castle walls.
After all, ever since stepping off the train of platform nine and three-quarters all those years ago, Park Jimin has never slipped below an O on his test grades, on his assignments, and overall grades in his classes. Six years have seen Park Jimin on a first name basis with all of his professors, every conversation plagued with his natural talent and natural inclination to do well on essays and exams. And none of them are overgeneralizations about Jimin either—if those aforementioned Outstanding marks on his report cards are anything to go off of. It’s a good position to be in, one that Park Jimin acknowledges and is proud of. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s spent years buried in the library, combing through as many books as his mind would allow him to, using his knowledge to lead discussions and tests and basically set himself as one of brightest wizards in Hogwarts.
So, pair that intelligence with his charming smile and his highly capable social skills to last in plenty of social interactions—and you get Park Jimin. He’s proud, smart, smug, and currently raising his hand. It’s a normal sight for any student in Hogwarts who has the pleasure (or misfortune, or annoyance) of attending class with Park Jimin or attending class with the same house as Park Jimin. His quick-wit and fast processing brain earned him lots of points towards the Slytherin house. But for every point he earned Slytherin, he took away the opportunity for another house to earn points—hence, where the annoyance from his peers probably comes into play.
But Park Jimin doesn’t care. He doesn’t need to look out for anyone other than himself. That’s why as soon as Professor Binns opened class with his usual first question: “Can anyone tell me what followed the Soap Blizzard of 1378?”, he lifts his hand up.
He waits for Professor Binns to look up and call his name, as it usually goes. Jimin’s usual plan, however, is halted when an unfamiliar voice sounds from the back of the classroom. “I believe it was the Wizarding Economic Bubble Burst, professor.”
A different kind of silence takes over the classroom, one that is plagued with a weight of questions and surprise. Who was talking? Who would answer a question without raising their hand?
But above all: Who would try to overstep Park Jimin?
Jimin overcomes the momentary flood of confusion that pour through him as he lowers his hand. As soon as his hand is back on his desk, he follows what his peers are doing in turning around in his seat, to see who the voice belongs to. At the doorway stands a student Jimin has never seen in his life, dressed in what looks to be new Hogwarts robes. Behind you is Professor McGonagall, displaying no expression to give away who you are or what you’re doing here.
You’ve got your hands in the pocket of your robes, head tilted to the side, looking as if answering Professor Binns question had required no extra mental effort, as if you had the answer ready on the tip of your tongue.
At your response, Professor Binns looks up from his podium. “You are correct. Normally, I require students wait to be called on first before answering my question. But you provided a full answer, which is impressive. Especially for an event that hasn’t been covered for you students in a few years. But no matter. To what do I owe the pleasure, Professor McGonagall?”
“My apologies, Professor Binns,” She says, holding up a slip of paper. “But we have a new transfer student—someone from the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” The professor directs her attention to the rest of the class. “I know we rarely get transfer students, especially so late in the student’s life, so I expect you all to be welcoming to help Ms. Y/N get adjusted.”
The room is immediately enveloped in a blanket of whispers. Professor McGonagall is right—it’s not just rare to get transfer students, it’s practically unheard of. Especially during a student’s last year in school. The questions start coming up. Who are you? What type of situation are you in that would call for a transfer across the world? And again, the biggest question of all, how could you overstep Park Jimin?
Professor Binns stares at the two at the door for a moment longer, before he looks back down at the podium. “Very well. Ms. Y/N, was it? Take a seat. Contrary to my previous question, today’s lecture isn’t going to be about the Soap Blizzard, but it is a vaguely entertaining topic to engage in…”
He starts to drone on about something else. Maybe goblins or something? Park Jimin isn’t very sure anymore. The only thing he’s conscious of right now is the whispering exchanges between you and the professor. Professor McGonagall hands you the transfer papers. She asks you a few more questions before turning around and heading back down the hallway she had entered from. This leaves you alone in the doorway, lingering for a moment, before you start to move.
Even though Professor Binns is still going on about the topic for today, it’s clear hardly anyone is paying attention. The weight of their gaze falls solely on you as you enter the classroom. You aren’t doing anything to earn their attention, but questions about you largely outweighs any questions anyone might have about class.
People continue to watch as you brush behind Jimin’s seat, before settling yourself in the only vacant chair in the classroom—a place that also so happens to be Jimin’s desk partner. Jimin watches out of the corner of his eye as you settle yourself in, taking out your notebook, quill, and ink. He thinks about the possibility of you saying something to him—maybe an apology for answering a question he had already raised his hand for. Maybe an introduction. Maybe you would ask him how he knew about the Soap Blizzard. Yet, the longer the pair of you sit there, listening but not really listening to Professor Binns go on and on, the longer Jimin feels himself turn red with irritation. You remain quiet.
The class time goes a lot slower than Jimin is used to, as his mind is reeling too much with questions about his new desk partner to pay any attention to class material. It isn’t until Professor Binns is dismissing the class in his usual deadpan tone, does Jimin turn to look at you.
He pastes on a friendly expression. “Hey there,” He greets, just as you’re screwing on the cap of your ink bottle. “That was really impressive when you knew the answer to the question at the beginning of class. Did you guys over at Ilvermorny just go over the Bubble Burst before you transferred?”
You do look over at Jimin this time, eying him up for a moment before you smile. “No, not really. We went over that shit the same time as you guys.” You turn back to gathering your quill and ink. You flip your hair over your shoulder when it starts to get into your face. “I just have better memory than most.”
Jimin blinks, having not expected such an answer from you. You didn’t even thank him for the compliment, nevermind that you weren’t giving him anything to make a conversation from.
You flash him one last glance before you straighten up from your seat, making your way to the front of the room. It’s probably to ask Professor Binns about bringing you up to speed with any potential assignments or readings you need to fulfill in order to do well in the class. But just like with the whole encounter the pair of you experienced thus far, it further continues to rub Jimin the wrong way. As far as first impressions go, the one you leave behind is absolutely—!
.
“Terrible,” Jimin reports as he sits himself down in the courtyard, book bag thrown onto the ground and catching the attention of the other boys who are already situated around the area. He plops down next to Jungkook, running a hand through his hair and looking irritated enough that it halts any outside conversation that may have occurred before his appearance.
Namjoon raises an eyebrow at Jimin’s arrival. “You doing okay there?”
Jimin gives a heavy sigh. “You should have been in class with me today. We have a new transfer student from the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and she is—!”
“A new student at this time of year?” Yoongi interrupts, already proving to be uninterested with the direction of the conversation as he’s writing something down in his notebook. “During our last year?”
Jungkook perks up at the mention of ‘new’ and ‘student’. “Is she cute?”
Hoseok giggles, elbowing the boy. “Trying to find someone who doesn’t know what it’s like to be fucked over by you, huh, JK?”
Jimin shrugs a shoulder, raising an arm into the air with the palm of his hand upturned, furrowing his eyebrows at the question. “I don’t know. Our conversation didn’t exactly highlight the charming aspects of her personality.”
Namjoon whistles. “She must have really done something for you to be annoyed.”
“She was just…” Jimin trails off, trying to find the right word to describe the current feeling setting with him. “She just—she answered Professor Binn’s beginning of class question without raising her hand. She didn’t even wait for Professor Binns to call on her! Can you believe that?”
There’s a lapse of silence as his friends take a moment to take in Jimin’s explanation of his day.
Jungkook is the first to realize that Jimin is finished, and is the first to speak up. “Is that it?”
Yoongi looks up from his notebook. “But you hardly ever wait for the professors to call your name.”
“Hey!” Jimin calls, pointing a finger at the Head Boy. “Whose side are you on?”
“Yours, of course,” Yoongi says, brushing the hair from his forehead. “But you seem to be upset for a minor reason. Even from my perspective, it doesn’t seem like she did anything wrong. She knew the question, so she answered it.”
Jimin pouts slightly. “Doesn’t seem like you’re on my side though! How can you say something like that? For a Head Boy, you’re not good at paying attention to rules.”
“Maybe participation is measured differently at Ilvermorny—you expect me to write up detention to someone because they broke rules they didn’t even know existed in the first place?” Yoongi asks. The corner of his lips turn up. “I admit I can be a little harsh with giving out detentions, but the students I target have known about the Hogwarts rules their entire life. They should know better. The expectation on that transfer student is a little much, especially coming from you. Are you sure you’re not just mad that someone who wasn’t you got to show off?
Jimin glares. “Of course not,” He protests, done in a way that is overly exaggerated and implies that he’s definitely mad he didn’t get to show off.
“Of course he is,” Namjoon grumbles under his breath. “The spotlight is taken away from him for two seconds and he’s already pouting like a baby.”
“I’m not pouting,” Jimin scowls. “I can’t believe you guys aren’t on my side. Someone answering a question before me is like someone catching a Golden Snitch before Jeon.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “You trying to compare us or something, Park? Besides, a question given at the beginning of class is different from a whole Quidditch game. I guess it’s more like someone doing better than me during Quidditch practices? I’m not at my best, just like how you aren’t at your best during questions asked in class that, frankly, don’t mean shit.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a piece of bread he had taken from the Great Hall earlier that morning. No one questions it. Jungkook is known to sneak snacks around. He takes a bite of the bread. “And just like how I’m at my best during Quidditch games, you’re at your best when you’re prepared and focused.”
“Jungkook is right,” Namjoon says, slinging an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “So what if a transfer student gets one question right? You’ve gotten six years worth of questions correct. When the tests start coming around and the professors congratulate you on another high score, I think you’ll realize how much you’re overreacting.” He holds up a finger when Jimin opens his mouth. “You are, but that’s fine.”
Jimin sighs. “Okay, okay, you’re right. It was just one question. It’s not that big of a deal. You’re right. I’m fine.”
His friends exchange glances, but Jimin pretends he doesn’t see them because he’s too busy trying to engrave the previous reassurances into his mind. He was totally fine. He could brush past this minor irritation. It’s not like other students never got to answer questions delivered by a professor over his student career, because they had. This was just another person, and you are just another student—a new student, but a student nonetheless. In a few weeks, you’ll just become someone he’ll pass by in the hallway.
The mental note that in the long run, your small interaction would become a hazy memory, relaxes Jimin. After all, it’s not a big deal. It was fine.
Spoiler alert: It was not fine.
.
Rumors have a habit of flying around Hogwarts quickly. After all, when students are more-or-less trapped in a castle for nine months of a year, the amount of entertainment available becomes limited to homework, friends, a handful of outdoor activities, and participating in the creation and distribution of gossip. Kim Namjoon knows all about gossip—he’s part of the foundation that creates that business.
And it’s all driving Park Jimin crazy, not because of the act of gossip itself, but because the rumors are circling around an individual he thought would have been pushed to the backburner by now. That individual, as could be guessed, is you. And he can’t believe it.
In all honesty, he should have known better. A student from the Ilvermorny school comes in during the final year, answers a question seamlessly right off the bat, and makes no attempts to befriend any students. What kind of person wouldn’t be curious about that?
The answer is no one. Everyone is curious about you, and it shows.
After all, it just takes one week for everyone to know about your quick response to Professor Binns question, and even less time for assumptions about your education level to come into discussion.
“I hear she was the top student at Ilvermorny,” Namjoon says by way of greeting as he slides across from Jimin in the library.
Jimin barely looks up from his textbook. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better because…?” He trails off.
Namjoon blinks. “It wasn’t.”
Jimin scowls. “Fuck off.”
It’s hard to pretend someone doesn’t exist when their mere presence can cause so much discussion and debate. Besides, he already had an inkling that you weren’t just any normal student from Ilvermorny. Your knowledge of the material being taught in class has shed a light to two things: one, it highlights your ability to retain topics from years ago and two, it shows how quickly you can follow your professors advice on readings or essays needed in order to be up to date with the curriculum.
Conclusion: you are smart. Really smart, actually. Smart enough to be the top student at Ilvermorny. And the seeming lack of effort on your end to accomplish so much with little work is what Jimin realizes is the most irritating aspect of this whole thing. That may have slid by at Ilvermorny, but this is different. Because you being the top student at Ilvermorny is equivalent to Jimin being the top student at Hogwarts. And if you took over his spot, where would that leave Jimin? The second best student at Hogwarts?
Yeah, he doesn’t think so.
The feelings only dig themselves in deeper when the first few weeks pass and test dates start being scheduled, announced, and distributed. Jimin studies the way he has for years: he buries himself in his notebooks and holes up in the library for as long as physically possible. He smiles at some pretty girls that walk by, that park themselves in a table just a few rows down from his own. They giggle at the smiles he sends and the glances he steals with them. He doesn’t start a conversation with any of those girls, however, he continues to keep to himself as he rummages through his notes to stay on top of his study schedule.
After a few minutes of organizing and filling out study guides, Jimin realizes that there is a question he hadn’t taken note of during his previous classes. With a sigh, he straightens up out of his desk, heading towards the aisle filled with Charms textbooks. His eyes narrow on the spines of the books, already having a vivid image in his mind of what he was looking for.
His fingers reach out, hovering, until a movement next to the corner of his eye stops him. He lowers his hand, and glares. “I’m a little surprised to see you here,” He notes by way of greeting.
You give Jimin a smile with no teeth. “Is that anyway to speak to your seat partner, Park Jimin?”
“I was just making an observation.” He frowns. “What are you doing here?”
You don’t comment about him answering your question with a question. After all, this kind of conversation is a normal occurrence between the two of you—as it has been ever since your first encounter.
“Just grabbing a book,” You say, reaching into the shelf and sliding out a copy of an advanced seventh year Charms textbook. “Those bonus questions on the charms study guide are a real bitch, am I right?”
He stares at you. “I can’t say for sure. I haven’t gotten there yet.”
“Wow.” You grin. “And I thought you were one of the smart ones, Park Jimin.” You bring the book to your chest. “I should get back to my seat.”
He hums, about to let you slip past his fingers, but a thought stops him. “Hey,” He calls out, watching as you turn back around. Your eyes study him—gaze observant and unwavering.
His own eyes momentarily flicker down below your face. From the collar of your school shirt to your waist, to the line where the fabric of your skirt meets the skin of your leg. He swallows, dragging his eyes back up to you. You raise an eyebrow, a corner of your lips turning up, as if you know what he’s thinking. “Yes?” You ask, making yourself comfortable again against the shelf.
“Listen,” He starts, trying to mentally form his words. “I know you’re new, so I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. But ranking first on tests and grades is sort of my thing. I’ve been here since I turned eleven, so I think as a newcomer you should learn your place now before rumors get spread and your life here as a student gets very complicated.”
You huff in disbelief, taking a step towards him. “Is that a threat, Park Jimin?”
“It’s whatever you want it to be,” He returns.
You’re standing at an arm’s length away from him. “I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re trying to play. Trying to enforce something that only benefits you, because it seems like you can’t handle when someone is smarter than you are.” You smile again, no teeth. “I’m not scared of you. You think I give a fuck about what your little gang of friends have to spread about me? Yeah, I know about your group. If you think bullshit like that is going to stop me from doing my best, then you better start doing some actual research about me. I think you’re in over your head. I was the best at my school, so don’t think I don’t have what it takes to be the best here.”
Jimin remains unwavering, choosing to keep his gaze on you. “We’ll see about that.”
You raise an eyebrow at the challenge, looking amused rather than annoyed. For a moment, neither of you say anything. Your gaze switches between his eyes.
And down at his lips.
They flash back up just as fast as they had looked down.
Your tongue quickly darts across your lower lip. “I guess we will,” You say, taking a step back. “I’ll see you around, Park Jimin.”
His gaze trails down your backside as you leave.
.
The Charms exam is the first test of Jimin’s final year at Hogwarts, and he goes in with high expectations for himself—as he always does. He answers all the questions, recalling them from the study guides or various readings he had done in preparation. All in all, it’s a regular Charms exam in all its short answers and detailed explanations, but one he has full confidence in doing the best in once again.
So imagine his surprise when Professor Flitwick stops in front of your desk, produces your test from the collection in his arms, and utters the following words: “Congratulations to Ms. Y/N for making the top score in the class. She went above and beyond for all the questions, including the extra credit, and is therefore very well deserving of her Outstanding score!” He claps. “Yes, yes, very good Ms. Y/N! Keep up the good work!”
You smile, looking down at your practically unmarked test, taking in the O at the top of the paper.
The way you slide your eyes towards Park Jimin does not go unnoticed by him, who looks down at his own test. There is a single mark on his test, a -½ at the top, with points marked off from one of his last extra credit questions. Missing a half mark on a test isn’t unheard of with a Charms exam, which can be long and tedious and requires thorough paragraph-length responses.
However, Park Jimin not scoring the highest score in the class is unheard of.
And now you know it, as the students looking around the classroom is anything to go off on. You are not looking at the students around you. You are looking right at Park Jimin, with the corner of your lips turned up, a look of pride written all across your face.
He doesn’t know what he’s going to do next, but maybe he’ll try to take a note from Jung Hoseok’s book about putting a damper on someone’s day—he wonders if you like hiccough sweet in your morning tea.
.
Park Jimin never gets to find out if you like hiccough sweet in your morning tea, because he gets called into Professor McGonagall’s office before he can figure out the best way to give you a taste of how rough he could make your life.
Not only does he get called into the Headmistress’ office, he gets called in with you.
He sees you about to pull open the office door, and cannot seem to help his impatience. He rushes towards you, brushing past you in an attempt to reach the handle first. “Excuse me sweetheart, I have an appointment with Professor McGonagall so if you could let me go ahead, I’d appreciate it…”
You move forward to block him from opening the door. You give him an eyebrow raise, thoroughly unimpressed. “Sweetheart?” You inquire, referring to his nickname.
He blinks. Normally, his peers would be flustered at being cornered in such a way and he cannot help his further frustration—because just what is your problem? Do you not have any weaknesses?
Since people are usually flustered following his whole ‘sweetheart’ role, he doesn’t know how to respond to someone who isn’t flustered by his role. Which, in turn, leaves him slightly flustered. “Well…” He starts.
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I have a name, Park Jimin, and I’d appreciate it if you called me that instead of whatever bullshit you think I’ll bend over for.”
“Duly noted,” He grumbles, deciding to let you have this one. “I wasn’t trying to be difficult though, sweet—Y/N.” He corrects himself upon seeing your glare. If he thought you weren’t serious with your threats, he definitely doesn’t think that now. The glare you give him makes him wonder if maybe you’ll slip hiccough sweet into his morning tea. “I do have an appointment with Professor McGonagall right now.”
That makes you furrow your eyebrows, but not in a way that’s directed at him. “Huh,” You say, mostly to yourself. “I do too. That’s weird. Does she want to see both of us at the same time?”
Jimin crosses his arms over his chest. “Why are you asking me? I’m just here to get this meeting over with.”
“So am I, I’m just trying to figure out what this means! Don’t be an ass about this,” You snap back. You swear you’re about to go for the neck before the office door opens of its own accord.
“Y/N! Jimin! Please come in.” It’s Professor McGonagall.
You sharply turn to Jimin. “Great, she heard your squawking.”
Jimin glares at you. “You’re the one who’s talking about bending over for me!”
You flush deeply at that. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Y/N? Jimin?” Professor McGonagall appears at the office door. “You may come in, that’s why I opened the door for you.”
“P-Professor,” You say, stammering slightly and Jimin blinks at the sight—having never seen you look nervous before. “Whatever you heard outside, it’s not a reflection of our actual conversations…”
“As if we ever have any actual conversations,” Jimin grumbles under his breath, and you give him a look that could cut glass.
Before you can continue, the professor holds up a hand. “I just happened to open the door because it’s the time both of you should be here for your meeting anyways.” She shifts her gaze between the two of you. “Regardless of who is offering to bend over for whom.”
Even Jimin has to admit the hotness on his cheeks. Neither of you say anything to that, although you kick Jimin in the shin before entering the office. The pair of you are gestured to take a seat in front of Professor McGonagall’s desk.
“I do apologize for the last minute call,” She says as she laces her fingers together and places them on the desk. “But an assignment has come up that requires attention from both of you. It’s something that the top senior students are asked to do every year, but I wanted to make sure Y/N got adjusted before assigning her with a new project.”
“Forgive my bluntness, professor,” Jimin speaks, hands on his lap. “But is asking the transfer student really necessary for what project you have for me? Since I’m the top student, I’m sure I can shoulder this by myself—!”
“The project requires the top male and female student,” Professor McGonagall interrupts carefully, but she’s giving Jimin a look. “And since Y/N was the top student at Ilvermorny, her involvement in the project was requested by a member of the Ministry.”
Jimin notices the way you stiffen at that—he sees it in the tightness of your jaw, the way you sit a little straighter. The scoff overpower his curiosity, seeing your reaction as nothing more than a student trying to land a job with the aforementioned Ministry of Magic, and he hates it.
Neither you nor Professor McGonagall comment on his reaction, you just nod at her words with the kind of eyes that say you know exactly which member she’s referring to. Jimin decides not to ponder too deeply over it regardless. Any question, sarcastic or not, would not be received well by you.
“And what exactly is the project about, professor?” You ask after a moment.
Professor McGonagall readies herself at that. “It’s a project created by the Ministry of Magic,” She starts. “The project basically asks the top two students at Hogwarts to present a report about their time at the school—anything you two may have learned, from your classes to the extra curricular activities you might have enjoyed. We like to keep a good relationship with the Ministry of Magic, mainly to maintain career opportunities and internships open to the students here. The Ministry also likes to learn about what we’re teaching to either help fund programs and also keep other schools up to date with curriculum. Of course, the students who complete the project are allowed to opt out of their NEWT exams and are offered careers for those specific NEWTS. The project is given as an incentive for the top students to take advantage of the opportunity to jump start their careers—it’s also meant to serve as a reward for working so hard.”
“So, we have to…” Jimin trails off, looking at you. “Work together?”
“Yes, Mr. Park,” Professor McGonagall says. “The two of you will need to work together to come up with something cohesive, and professional. Y/N is still getting adjusted to life at Hogwarts, so I’m sure you’ll do well in showing her around the castle.”
“Yeah, Mr. Park,” You add in, wearing a smile across your lips. ��Guess this means you have to accept me as your equal, huh?”
“When would we have to give this presentation?” Jimin cuts in, ignoring you completely and seeing the way you exhale through your nose in amusement.
“It’s after the fall quarter,” The professor answers, eyes flickering between the two of you. “If there’s any problems that come up, or if either of you have any questions—I am available to answer them. Although I hope you both will be able to sort through most problems, like adults.”
“I’m sure Mr. Park and I can figure something out,” You say, voice sugar sweet and eyes bright with attention. There’s a teasing tone, something you always seem to have during your encounters with Jimin. The boy merely sighs, mostly to himself, with the knowledge that this is something that has been handed to him. And therefore, it’s something he cannot outsmart.
“Wonderful,” Professor McGonagall replies, looking relieved. “You both may go if you don’t have any further questions.”
You straighten up, bowing to the professor, and purposely allowing your skirt to brush Jimin’s arm as you leave the room. His jaw sets further, because he could have sworn the skin of your leg touched his shoulder and the thought only annoys him more. Did you have to be such a brat—?
“Do you have anymore concerns, Mr. Park?” Professor McGonagall asks, beady eyes looking right through him. She seems to be challenging him. The Headmistress is, after all, no stranger to Jimin’s constant hustle to be the top student at the school. Jimin wonders if his nerves and him feeling threatened by a new student is showing. If it is, she doesn’t say anything.
Jimin slowly gets up out of his chair. “No, professor,” He says, tilting his head slightly. “No concerns, no problems.”
“Alright, well, you better get going,” Professor McGonagall says, picking up her quill. “I assume you have meetings to arrange with Y/N.”
Jimin doesn’t say anything to that. He just watches the professor for a second longer before turning around and exiting the same way he had entered. A lot of thoughts enter his mind in that moment, mainly thoughts circling around what in the ever fuck was he going to do about being confined to working with someone he honestly could not stand—!
“Just to let you know, I’m just as excited about this project as you are.”
He stops short, lingering just outside the door to the office. “What are you doing?”
You uncross your arms, remove yourself from your position against the wall. “I’m just expressing my excitement for this assignment.”
“You’re sticking around just to spite me.”
“Contrary to popular belief, not everything is about you. You’re just upset because you have to acknowledge that I’m smart enough to challenge you. Not only that, but smart enough to warrant a request for someone at the Ministry of Magic,” You say. “But that’s okay. I don’t need your acknowledgment—I’ve been doing fine all on my own.”
He turns to look at you. “Hey, what was all that bullshit about being requested anyways?”
You readjust the bag at your shoulder. “Hm, let me see… oh yeah. It’s none of your business.”
“Does that specific member at the Ministry have something to do with your transfer?”
You meet his gaze, eyes narrowing. “What part of ‘it’s none of your business’ do you not understand?”
“Oh, I understand it completely.” He takes a step towards you, hands in his pocket. “Since, you know, you’re all excited about us working together, I think the least you can do is give me some answers so I have a good idea of who I’m working with.”
You eye him up. “This is a presentation, Park Jimin, not a date.”
“What’s not a date?” Kim Taehyung slides up to the pair of you. He looks between the two of you glaring at each other. “Hold on, is that code for something? Are you guys planning a rendezvous? Either way, this is a really weird way to flirt…”
“We’re not flirting,” Jimin cuts in, sighing again when he seems to process who is next to him. He runs a hand through his hair. “What are you doing here?”
Taehyung blinks. “I saw you and thought I’d say hello. If I had known I’d be walking into this very angry form of eye-fucking then I’d—!”
“Do you have selective hearing?” You cut in. “Your friend already said we weren’t flirting. Which is true, we definitely aren’t.”
Taehyung looks at you, seeming to realize who you are right off the bat. This is probably because Taehyung is popular and charming and generally knows all the students who reside in this castle. Not being able to identify you gives him an exact answer to your name. “Hey, you’re—!”
“Leaving.” You turn around. Damn you, for twirling in a way that makes your skirt spin around. And damn Jimin, for watching that.
“... the new girl,” Taehyung says to nobody, voice lowering considerably as soon as you gave both boys your back. Knowing he won’t get his answer from you, he turns to Jimin. “That was the new girl, right?”
“Yes, Taehyung,” Jimin answers. “That was the new girl. And my life is officially over.”
.
Jimin hadn’t been exaggerating when he delivered the news to Taehyung. The universe setting you and Jimin up to be partners on an assignment that circled around being on the same page and constructing something cohesive? That in itself, especially with two individuals with such strong opinions, is just a recipe for disaster.
To be fair, the first meeting you and Jimin have isn’t a disaster.
Not immediately, at least.
“For the last time,” You say, rubbing at your temples. “We’re not going to do a presentation about your study habits and the grades you’ve received since your first year. Actually, not only are we not going to do that, I refuse to follow along in something that stupid.”
Jimin feigns an innocent pout. “But the assignment is to talk about our experience at Hogwarts—and I really think my own history is the only thing we can go off of! And my experience is getting good grades, so it seems like the shoe fits pretty well on that one.”
“Because you have nothing else better to talk about,” You grumble underneath your breath, straightening up and leaning back slightly when Jimin turns to glare at you. You hold up your hands in mock defense.
“Ha, ha, very funny. At least I would have something to talk about. You’ve been at Hogwarts for, what, a few weeks? What would you talk about? Interrupting class lectures and bending over for the smartest student at school, like what’s that about—?”
The flat of your palm goes straight for his collarbone. “Will you shut up about that?” You hiss.
“Ouch!” Jimin whines, running his own hand over the place you hit him. “What the fuck—!”
“Excuse me,” Madam Pince interjects from behind both of you. “Mr. Park, I’m surprised that I need to remind you of all people that the library is not a place for noise!”
Jimin winces. “Sorry Madam Pince.” He waits until aforementioned Madam Pince is out of earshot before whipping back around to face you. “Nice going, fucker. You’re lucky I’m not a mean person otherwise I’d make your life a living hell for that stunt.”
“‘I’m not a mean person’ he says,” You quote. “While he yells at me and calls me a fucker.”
Jimin leans forward to rest his head into the palm of his hands. “We’re never going to get anything done, are we?”
“And, by the way, what is your obsession with talking about me bending over for you?” You bring up, shoving one of your textbooks out of the way. You are able to turn more comfortably this time, resting your elbow on the table with your body facing towards Jimin. “You like watching people squirm or something?”
At that, he peeks out through the gaps of his fingers to look at you. Immediately, his eyes land on your bare knees, where your skirt probably would have been had you not been moving around previously in a way that caused the fabric to rise up. The fabric is now at your thigh, with your legs spread enough due to your quick movements. His eyes flicker down to the junction, darkened by the shadow casted by your skirt, leaving enough to the imagination.
He shuts his eyes, the previous flickers undetectable because of his hands blocking the way, but he cannot help the racing of his heart. He feels as if he just did something risky, thrilling, dirty.
Although who is he kidding. He did, in fact, do something risky, thrilling, and dirty all in one subtle glance. The knowledge of this only frustrates him further. Did you position your legs like that on purpose? Did you know that he would notice—just as he’s noticed you since your very first day in class? Today, though, it feels different. Beyond just the normal bounds of frustration, there’s a curiosity. More than curiosity, there’s a flashing image behind his eyes.
One of what it would feel like to have your thighs around his waist.
There’s a twitch between his legs.
“Not just anyone,” He returns instead.
You’re looking at him, legs still parted. “You wanna give me an idea of what that’s like, Park Jimin?”
Jimin continues to look at you, taking in your amused, curious, serious expression and the realization pings through his mind. You are doing this on purpose. You’re trying to test him, mess with him, and you are enjoying it—as you have been since he threatened you in the library. Just as you’ve done with staring at his mouth, when you brushed the hem of your skirt over his arm, and especially now. You aren’t stupid. You’ve seen his lingering eyes in the same way he’s noticed yours. You’re trying to see how far you can push him before he snaps.
He decides to ignore the fleeting distraction between his legs as he turns back to the opened textbook on his desk. “Unfortunately for you, you don’t fall in that category. Your curiosity is cute, though.”
“Hm.” You hum, finally turning back towards the desk and finally closing your legs and finally removing the distraction from his line of sight. “That’s a pity.”
He shrugs. “Since it seems like you do enjoy the thought of squirming around for me, maybe stay out of my way and I’ll consider showing you what that could be about.”
You actually laugh at that, a soft sound—appropriate, considering both of you were in a library, but something almost… whimsy? And pretty? What was happening?
At that, Jimin cannot help his own exhale of air, as he looks at you with eyebrows furrowed. “What’s so funny?”
You hum again, shrugging as you pull your school bag forward to stuff it with parchment and books. “Oh, nothing.” You straighten out of the seat, shouldering your bag. “You just admitted that I’m in your way. And that’s exactly where I intend to stay.”
He flickers his gaze down to your bag. “Hold on, where do you think you’re going? We still have a whole presentation to draft.”
“Oh, I’m just doing some extra credit for Professor Binns,” You answer. “Besides, we basically have a whole fall quarter to work on it. Besides, your ideas aren’t exactly thought-provoking as they are. More than that, they suck. Come up with something better.”
“What, so it’s my job to come up with the different topics we’ll have to cover?” Jimin huffs.
You give him a vaguely surprised look. “You’re the one who said you were the only one with relevant ideas.” You glance down at your watch. “Listen, I really have to go. Come up with something better. Or ask me for my opinion next time and actually be willing to listen to it.” You deliver a sickly sweet smile, one that he wishes to wipe off. Maybe with some harsh words.
Or maybe his mouth—!
He tells himself it’s not creepy to watch your hips sway side to side as you leave the library.
Once you are gone, this leaves Jimin by himself, surrounded by people but alone in his thoughts. The banter has left him with a racing heart and, quite frankly, a semi in his slacks that he doesn’t think is going away anytime soon. Everytime he thinks he has a handle on what just happened, he gets a flash of your skirt or your lips or your hips and the memory of you being an absolute fucking brat—and that feeling comes back.
That feeling is one of pure frustration, a desire to just shove you against a wall, to see if he could swallow up all those words that do such a good job of riling him up.
He grits his teeth before moving to collect his own items of books and paperwork. Stuffing them into his bag, he begins to exit the library, hoping that each step he took would be a step away from that terrible idea. He couldn’t let you win—he couldn’t let you get to him.
.
The second meeting he has with you couldn’t entirely be defined as an actual meeting. But it’s an encounter, and it involves a conversation about the project—which fits the requirements of what a meeting technically could entail.
It happens a week after the first meeting, of seeing each other in classes but both of you making an active attempt to ignore each other. Both doing it for different reasons, but doing it nonetheless.
However, this changes when Jimin gets an idea for the project that he knows he needs to run by you. Assuming you don’t bark at him for lacking originality and assuming he could get through a proper interaction without shoving you against the wall. That latter thought has been getting increasingly more difficult as the week dragged on. You, with your stupid mini skirts and tucked in button-ups, your stupider display of legs that has piqued his interest more than any other member of the female population prior—a feat that is unbelievably stupid given that legs in itself isn’t a novel thing—along with your even stupidest strut down the hallways. Whether those things have been intentional or not, he honestly feels as if one wrong move could crack this facade he’s spent the week putting together.
He decides to pursue you after the shared Muggle Studies class you have together, when you’re out in the hallway and he’s following close behind. He doesn’t know your next destination, assuming you have one—because honestly, it’s been a few weeks since your official enrollment and he has yet to see you with a group of friends.
Instead, he elects to just ignore that internal question, and make his way towards you.
He matches stride with you. “Hear me out.”
You groan immediately. “Haven’t I heard enough of you already?”
That is true. The lesson in Muggle Studies had involved watching and talking about a muggle film and, naturally, Jimin had a lot to say.
Jimin grins. “Are you saying that none of my discussions were enticing enough for you, sweetheart?”
You glare at him. “What did I say about the sweetheart thing?”
You had warned him plenty. However, it’s worth seeing the angry flush along your cheeks. He tries at an answer too. “That you would bend over for me if I kept calling you by it?”
Your eyes narrow. “I’d choose your next words carefully, Park Jimin.”
“So serious,” He remarks, tearing his gaze from you.
You sigh. “Anyways, what are you even doing right now? Talking to me once a week to pick a fight seems desperate, especially for you.”
“I’m not trying to pick a fight—!” He cuts himself off. “I really did have a reason for catching up to you.” He stills. He really did forget what he had approached you for. “Shit, okay, give me a second.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
He ignores you. “Oh! Right! For the project. Actually here, let’s talk somewhere else.” Without a warning, he grabs your arm and practically drags you into one of the empty classrooms. It’s a room for astronomy labs—an open-spaced classroom with a high ceiling in case Professor Sinistra needed to recreate certain astronomical events not available during specific quarters or times of day. The ceiling is a navy color, dusted with tiny stars and constellations at the top, and rows of desks and empty seats around.
You and Jimin settle yourselves near the front of the classroom—close to the door but not close enough where a wrong move would send you out into the hallway.
When Jimin closes the door, you’re still watching him warily with arms over your chest. “Is your idea that good that you have to pull me into an empty classroom for it?”
“Well, I’m just saving you the embarrassment in case my idea happens to be good, you start cheering me on.”
You sigh. “Well, try me then, Park Jimin.”
“Alright,” He starts. “I hear you when you tell me just talking about my grades isn’t enough.”
“I didn’t say it wasn’t enough, I said that idea was dumb as shit—!”
He ignores you again. “So how about we talk about different aspects of Hogwarts. We can talk about things like the classes, Quidditch, spell-casting, the newspaper, and the role of the Head Boy.”
You do actually ponder this for a moment, but you’re extremely observant. He knows immediately that you’re about to spit something from the way you narrow your eyebrows. “Why be so specific? And what am I supposed to talk about from that limited pool of topics?”
He gives you a straightforward look. “I thought we already established that you would have nothing to talk about.”
You raise your eyebrows. “I didn’t think you were serious about that.”
“Well, as you should know sweetheart, I’m very serious all of the time.”
“Are you fucking stupid?” You’re glaring now. “Do you not remember Professor McGonagall telling us that this was a team project? We have to work together. If the Ministry comes to the realization that, no, we did not put together a cohesive presentation highlighting our own personal journeys and no, contrary to your pea brain, the presentation should never have centered around you in the first place, we’re going to be in deep shit. Professor McGonagall will probably have us shunned for the rest of the school year, we’ll definitely lose that internship opportunity with the Ministry and my father would—!” You cut yourself off immediately, wide-eyed at your own slip of the mouth.
Jimin raises an eyebrow at that. What does your father have to do with acing the presentation at the Ministry? The realization hits him pretty quick at that. “Oh, okay I see. So daddy was the one who requested your involvement on this team—?”
Your eyes, once wide with emotion and tinged with vaguely defined fear, harden. “How about you mind your own business and not resort to asking really inappropriate questions about my family life?” You snap.
“Woah, alright, I’ll stop,” Jimin interjects, raising both hands up. “If this is what I get for trying to be your friend.”
“For the last time,” You grit between your teeth, stepping closer to him, getting all up in his face and completely distracting him with the wash of lavender that overcomes his nostrils. There’s that delicious flush along your cheeks once again. “We are not friends. And don’t hold your breath because we’ll never be friends. I would never associate myself with anyone at this school, much less a vile, arrogant, disrespectful, terribly overrated individual like you—!”
Jimin doesn’t have an explanation for what he does next. He almost doesn’t even have control over his actions, like his body has a mind of his mind. One moment, he’s staring at you, far enough to still see your entire face but close enough to see the fire in your eyes.
And then the next moment, his eyes are closed and there’s something soft and warm against his lips. He’s kissing you.
The following seconds feel like minutes or hours, ticking slowly in contrast to Jimin’s thrumming heart. His fingers curl around something soft and textured: your hair. His lips, on his own unawareness, are moving frantically against yours—either to get his frustration out or get you to respond, he isn’t too sure.
It isn’t until his tongue pushes against your lips that he hears a whimper from the back of your throat that stirs up his insides like nothing else you’ve done to him before. He feels your fingers at the back of his neck, in his hair, nails digging into the skin, all before you part your lips. His boldness increases at the gesture, pressing harder against you.
The weight of him makes you take steps back, until both of you are moving about the classroom completely unaware of your surroundings. But Jimin doesn’t care, hardly even notices that you’re backing up. Every step you take back is matched with a step forward by him as he continues his attack on your mouth.
That is, until you hit one of the desks and the legs of the table scrap against the floor. The noise is like a bell that sets off in Jimin’s head. It goes off in your mind as well, actually, because you’re both quick to separate and push each other off. You stare at each other, wide-eyed and face flushed for entirely different reasons in comparison to a few seconds ago. Your lips are a deeper shade of red, and wet, and you look shocked. The expression is so opposite of the usual stern and stark that paints your face, so you appear surprisingly vulnerable.
For a moment, neither of you say anything. You simply stand there, taking in each other, as Jimin asks himself the same question over and over again. What the fuck just happened?
Unable to conjure up an answer to that, Jimin draws in a shaky breath. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” He whispers, immediately turning around and shoving open the door to the classroom and letting it slam shut behind him. He doesn’t look back, refuses to picture your expression in his mind because picturing it would make him second guess his decision.
Instead, he maintains his quick pace down the hallway, ignoring the calls of his name by peers and friends. His gaze is hyper focused on being somewhere other than here. So much so that he ends up shouldering his way into the boy’s bathroom, pacing past the row of toilet doors until he reaches the sinks and mirrors along the edge. He goes to one of the sinks as his palms come up to grip both sides of the sink. His eyes flint up, gazing at his reflection and taking it all in: from the flush of his own cheeks, the deeper red tint of his lips, the craze look in his eyes—like he wants more. Like he wanted more of you.
With a scoff, he rips his gaze away from the mirror and instead turns around to lean against the edge of the sink.
It’s not like he’s never kissed girls before. He has. Just never anyone who makes him as annoyed as you make him. This type of dynamic is new and involves unsure elements, a new game that he doesn’t know how to play.
Apparently, it’s one you don’t know how to play either.
.
It’s another three weeks of awkward stares, no eye contact, and one of you dashing out of classrooms first to avoid having to see each other in the hallway, until Professor McGonagall calls you back into her office. The space is naturally very reminiscent of the first meeting the three of you had together, but the tone is weighed down by tension and the obvious fact that you and Jimin are avoiding each other and have been avoiding each other for weeks.
The fact that the two of you refuse to look at each other is the first sign of this emotional conflict. Pair that with the lack of snappy banter, and all that contributes to the raised eyebrow Professor McGonagall gives both of you.
You look at Jimin out of the corner of your eye and seem to come to the conclusion that he isn’t going to participate. Which you are right, he has no intention of opening his mouth.
“Is something the matter, Professor?”
“I just thought I would have a little meeting to touch base with the both of you,” Professor McGonagall answers, shifting her gaze thoughtfully between you and Jimin. “I was seeing you hold meetings in the library on a few occasions, but there’s been an absence of that recently. During classes, I notice that neither of you engage in discussion and one of you is always the first to leave the room. Has there been a conflict of interest going on regarding the project?”
Jimin exhales a breath, wondering if you were going to spill the beans. Not explicitly, but you’ll probably start talking about how recent developments made you feel too nervous or too cautious to continue working with him—that you’d rather stop, or that you’d rather have Jimin step down. The kiss had been his fault, after all.
You take a few seconds to come up with your answer. “We were having some disagreements about the direction of the project,” You say at last, saying the words slowly and carefully and surprising Jimin. “So we haven’t talked for a little while, I think we just needed to collect our thoughts and come up with individual ideas, and then actually meet up and discuss rather than trying to grow something together.”
Professor McGonagall nods at that. “I understand. Well, if that’s the case. It seems the only advice I could give you both is to work through your problems. In other words, figure it out. There’s a lot riding on this project.”
The pair of you are then dismissed with a finality in her words. A warning.
Unlike previous interactions like sharing class together or running into one another in the halls, neither of you make a move to separate to run away. You linger near each other, awkward still, knowing that you both need to make amends and move past the incident but not sure how to do so.
“We should probably talk about this,” You say after a moment. You aren’t looking at him.
Jimin thinks about this. He sighs. “You’re right. I know a spot we can talk.” Turning around, he starts down the hallway. Your shoes echo against the castle walls, the high ceilings and long hallways that twist and turn. It’s much later into the night—the dinner crowd has dispersed back to respected common rooms or to the library for last minute studies. As a result, most of the hallways are devoid of students. The hallway routes around Professor McGonagall’s office are even more empty, given that a lot of classes are not in this corner of the castle and most places don’t invite loiters.
Jimin continues past closed doors, tall stained glass windows that bring in the moonlight. There’s a silence between you, not as awkward as it had been, but definitely filled with a veil of tension and lots of unanswered questions.
Finally, Jimin stops at a door not unlike the several other doors the pair of you had passed in your quest to get here. You’re about to ask what he’s doing and where he’s leading you and if he plans to kidnap you—because this kind of location in this kind of space would be perfect—before he’s muttering a password under his breath and opening the door. He keeps it open for you to enter the space first.
It’s a small classroom, only big enough to house a whiteboard at the end of the room, a long table right in front of the board, and a few desks in the middle for students. There’s a long window along the other side of the wall, and curtains draped in front of the glass.
You turn to look at him. This place is too suspiciously perfect for private conversations. “What is this place?”
“It’s a space for the Head Boy,” Jimin explains, closing the door behind him. “It kind of doubles as a private study and a place for Yoongi to run detentions. But he lets me come here sometimes when I need more privacy.”
“So not only do you have professors up your ass, but the school’s Head Boy too?” You ask, whirling around to give him a judgmental glance.
“Don’t come in here just to insult me,” Jimin snaps back. “You’re pretty dead set on putting up walls; that doesn’t mean I’m not either. So, not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been friends with Yoongi for years. No ass kissing in that.”
You stare at him for a moment longer before turning back to look at the room. “You’re right.”
He figures it’s the best apology he’ll get from you.
“Alright,” He says after a moment. He watches the way you turn around to face him. “I’m just gonna put this out here, because we need to get our shit together. I do apologize for kissing you. It was rash and inappropriate. If you want me to step down from the project, I’ll understand.”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “By you understanding, does that mean you would step down?”
Jimin stares at you. “Well, I mean, no, but it would be more of an incentive to talk about this.”
“Of course,” You grumble, running a hand through your head. “Well, you’re in luck. I have no intention in asking you to step down from the project. I might even go as far to say that I think you’re mildly attractive, which is why I didn’t have a problem with you doing that.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. I think you’re vaguely attractive too.”
You nod. “Always reassuring to hear it like that.”
“But see, this is good. We’re getting this out here,” Jimin says, gesturing between the two of you. “I kissed you because of this tension between us, but because it ended abruptly that tension never got any closure. We’re still in this limbo phase.”
You keep your gaze on Jimin. You seem to be pondering his words. Somehow, he’s able to tell that you’re not entirely turned off by his conclusion—probably because you’re still standing close enough to him that your Hogwarts ropes were touching. “You make a good point.”
“Mm, well of course I do,” He says, keeping his gaze on you. “I’m Park Jimin.”
You wrinkle your nose at that. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
He smirks, still looking at you, and shrugs a shoulder. “I should be able to flatter myself a little. I kissed you, didn’t get snapped out by you, so I’d consider it a worthy endeavor.”
“Well, you shouldn’t waste your breath just yet,” You interrupt, voice growing progressively softer given the proximity. “I’m not sure if that should really count as a kiss considering the inappropriate and abrupt nature of it all.”
At that, Jimin turns hot. “I already apologized for that.”
You smile, a mere curl of your lips, as your hands find their place on his shoulders. At the gesture, his hands automatically go to your waist—a natural place, given the memory of the last time you had your hands around his neck. “And how about you ask to kiss me the way a normal person who is attracted to another person would ask—?”
Your voice cuts off when Jimin shoves you even closer to him, bodies pressed against one another. “You really know how to be a brat, don’t you?”
Your smile widens. You lean towards him, nose brushing against his. “I don’t see you asking, Park Jimin—!”
He shuts you up by slamming his lips against yours. Fingers curl around the back of your neck to keep you in place. He kisses you roughly, lips pushing against yours and sucking the air from your lungs. He pulls away moments later, lips still brushing against one another, heavy breathing filling his ears. “For someone claiming I needed permission to kiss you, you definitely know how to keep your mouth shut to help me get what I want.”
You groan. “You really have to have the last word in everything, don’t you?”
“Not true.”
You sigh, digging your nails into the nape of his neck. You kiss him this time, parting your lips right away as Jimin becomes distracted with sliding his tongue into your mouth. His desire for control comes up again, stepping forward and continuing to move with every step backwards you take.
Hitting the teacher’s desk at the front of the room is so unlike the last time. The scrap of the metal against the floor had awoken Jimin from the reality of what could have happened—but now it heightens his senses, leaves his heart racing because he knows what will happen next and he desires nothing more.
Eyes still closed, he uses his hand to leave your waist and feel down the length of your skirt. He confirms that he’s reached the hem by tugging at the end of the fabric. “I hate this thing,” He growls. “You’re always making it sway when you walk, always drawing attention to this damn piece of clothing.”
You smirk against his lips. “I made you look, though…” You trail off, voice pitching into a sigh when Jimin pulls away from your mouth. Immediately, he kisses at your jawline, down your neck. “Jimin—ee!” You squeal as Jimin’s hands go from on top of your skirt to underneath, fingers dancing up your bare thigh. “I thought you were going to fuck me.”
The actual four letter word makes Jimin groan, makes his blood boil, makes his slacks feel a little tighter. “What happened to asking?”
“Oh, because you were so good at that—!” You choke, the breath catching in your throat as you jump at the sensation of Jimin’s fingers pressing against your clothed clit. Your eyes develop a foggy complexion.
“What was that?” Jimin asks, smirking at the dazed look across your features. Seeing you look like this is so different and intriguing, considering the rarity of seeing you off your guard. He wonders how far he can take it, how much he can do to make sure it’s not words of insult that are passing lips.
You press your lips together, shaking your head. The whimper comes back as Jimin starts drawing circles against the bundle of nerves, slow paced but small movements. The fabric of your panties are thin, enough so that he can feel your clit, and enough to come to the realization that you’re—!
“Wet,” Jimin grumbles.
Your cheeks heat at the realization, something you hadn’t even been entirely sure of yourself.
Jimin leans forward to peck your lips once, twice. “It’s hot.” He deepens the kiss, distracting you as his finger curls around the underside of your panties.
You suck in a breath as he runs a finger up and down your slit before sinking a finger into your heat. “Nn—Jimin,” You whisper, moving one of your arms to curl the fingers around his bicep. It’s a shallow thrusting of his finger, more about preparation and feeling than actually trying to make you cum. But the sensation floods your nerves all the same.
“You’re so hot, I can only just imagine what this’ll feel like wrapped around my cock,” Jimin comments hoarsely, pulling his one finger out. The next time he slides in, it’s two fingers and the slight stretch makes your eyes squeeze together.
“J-Jimin,” You choke out. The wet sounds of friction between your legs begins to fill the room. “That feels so good, fuck…”
“Mm, does it now?” Jimin inquires softly. With every upward movement of his fingers into your pussy, the sensation of your walls tightening against his digits goes entirely to his head. It feels like he’s making mental notes of your reactions. You’re a sensitive little thing, and it’s a fact he really wouldn’t mind testing out more. “You still want me to fuck you?”
“Yes, yes, I do, come here,” You urge softly, bringing him forward to kiss you again.
Slowly, his fingers slide out of you, and you whimper at the emptiness he’s leaving you behind with. His hands leave from in between your thighs, traveling out of your skirt and resting at your waist. Without a warning, he hoists you up onto the desk. He moves you back just enough to give you instructions:
“Put your feet on the table for me.”
Legs twitching slightly, you do as you’re told. Your heels rest on the edge of the desk. At the gesture, the hem of your skirt moves downwards, flashing your panties right at Jimin. He has a momentary flashback to that first meeting in the library—your legs spread atop a chair, the skirt casting a shadow between your legs.
Now, he no longer has to wallow in that curiosity. Black panties flash right in his line of sight, and his dick feels even more constrained as he steps forward and reaches out to tuck his fingers underneath the waistband. With a nod from you, he pulls the fabric up and down your legs, and past your shoes. He pockets the material.
You notice the action immediately. “Need a spank bank collection, Park?”
At that, he shrugs, even though both of you know the answer to that. “Depends on how good this is,” He says casually. You and Jimin know this is a lie. He already knows this is going to be good. Above anything, the tent in his pants is a clear giveaway to that. You watch as he pulls his belt from out of the belt loops, tugs the leather off of his waist. He barely brings his pants down, he just reaches in and comes back out with his cock, pretty and leaking at the tip. His thumb brushes at it, spreading the pre-cum across his length.
You whine at the sight, tossing your head back slightly as your legs come out to drag Jimin towards you by the waist. “I’ve seen enough, please fuck me, please—!” You whimper as Jimin pulls your legs off his waist. He brings his arms underneath your legs, bending it at the knees as he inches forward to rest his hands on the table. Untouched, his dick hovers right where you want him the most, and you whine again.
“I’m just preparing, baby,” He explains softly, almost patronizingly, but you don’t seem to mind the tone. “Don’t want to hurt you before I even get the chance to fuck you.”
“You’ll never know until you put—it—in—oh!” You gasp, the tip of Jimin’s dick hovering at your entrance. One of Jimin’s hands moves from underneath your leg to wrap around the base of his cock, running it up and down your folds. He takes one last look at your expression: wide eyes and parted lips, before he looks back down between your legs. He watches as his cock disappears between your folds, immediately enveloping him in your hot, tight walls, a pressure that increases when you clench around him.
Jimin grunts, tilting his head back. “Fuck, you’re tight.”
You’re breathing heavily now. Your arms are resting behind you to keep you level, allowing your fingers to tighten around the edges of the desk. Your toes curl in your shoes. “Jimin—shit.” You jolt slightly when Jimin’s hand moves from the base of his dick to your clit. His thumb rests on the nub, immediately drawing circles against the nerves to relax you through the stretch. You whine, a noise from the back of your throat that makes the blood rush even quicker through Jimin’s body. It fills him with a desire to fill you up, to make you scream.
He continues to push in until he reaches the hilt, the feeling of you around him is so snug and warm that he cannot help his own groan. His finger moves from your clit and curls around the knee of your unoccupied leg. Using his arm to keep your knee bent, his hand travels back to its original position on the desk, allowing both of your legs to be spread apart for him.
Jimin looks up towards you, leaning forward to kiss you. “You still with me?”
You nod. “Yes, fuck, you can fuck me now.”
The permission makes his head spin as he nods. “Fuck, okay.” He begins to pull away until all that’s left inside you is his tip. With a snap of his hips, he drives himself back into you.
The full sensation against your walls lights up your nerves, allowing it to pass through your entire body as your legs twitch and you throw your head back. “Fuck,” You whisper, mostly to yourself as your walls start to tighten and untighten at the sensation.
This, in turn, drives a choke from Jimin’s throat. “Stop clenching around me!”
You level your gaze with Jimin’s once more, but you have a hazy look in your eyes. “Gonna prove to me that you’re a one dump pump or something, Park?”
He stares at you, long and hard. “I’m gonna make you regret saying that.” He pulls out again, all the way to the tip, and thrusts back in sharply. You gasp. But it doesn’t stop this time. He picks a pace, not too fast but he goes deep. The snark in your eyes is gone. The noises in your throat are no longer words but noises instead: whimpers and whines.
The coil starts to tighten in your belly. “J-Jimin,” You wail, using what little strength you have in your arms to push yourself into a straighten sitting position. This brings you closer to Jimin. Without a warning, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into the collar of his robes. It seems like this is to muffle the sounds coming from your throat. “Ngh, Jimin, feels so good, fuck…”
His fingers curl around the edges of the desk as he picks up the pace. Your knees start to twitch above his arms. “You trying to escape me, sweetheart?” He asks right in your ear, breath against your neck. “Look at you. You just have to take what I give you.” That’s true. He’s keeping your legs spread, leaving you unable to escape or move away.
You’re gasping now. “Jimin, I’m gonna come.”
Jimin hums, pulling his hand away from your arm once again and returning his fingers to your clit. When he rubs at you this time, it’s quicker and faster and you clamp up immediately. “Then come.”
“Mmmm,” You sob, arching your back right into his body. For a brief moment, everything is tight, hot, and overwhelming, before the coil snaps and you wither in his arms. One of your own hands slam down onto the desk, as you try to grip onto the smooth surface of the table either to give you a new sense of bearings or pull away from him, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t acknowledge it either, too focused on thrusting into you until he’s finding his own release.
He grunts, pushing into you until he’s at the hilt as he spills himself into you. The blood is no longer in Jimin’s ear, no longer drowning up the sounds of pleasure and desperation. Instead, it fills the air with the sounds: the gasps and heavy breathing. You, halfway lying on the desk. And Jimin, hovering closely over you, still joined together.
“Shit,” You whisper, untangling your other hand from Jimin’s neck and freeing you to lie entirely on the surface of the table. Jimin watches you carefully, gently putting down your legs so they can rest against the table.
“Lift your bottom for me,” Jimin instructs, lifting the hem of your skirt up to bunch the fabric at your waist. With your entire bottom exposed, he’s able to see himself inside you all over again. Slowly, he pulls himself out. You whimper at that. But Jimin doesn’t say anything. He watches, throat dry, as he watches the white substance of his cum spill out of you. He reaches out, collecting it around his finger, before going back up to your slit and pushing his finger into you.
You arch your back at that, crying out softly at the overstimulation. You push yourself to your elbows, watching him sink his finger back into you. “What are you doing?” You ask breathlessly.
“Trying to make as small a mess as possible,” Jimin explains, pushing his finger in as far as it could go. “You wanna go back to the common room with stains over your robes?”
You stare at him, some of that haziness gone and replaced with your usual thoughtful expression. “You make a good point.”
Jimin is able to wipe the rest of the stains on the sleeves of his white polo, something that will be hidden underneath his robes. He watches as you hop off the desk, smoothing down your skirt and down your hair.
You look over at him. “How do I look?”
He gives a careful once-over. “How about this: if I saw you in the hallway, I wouldn’t have assumed you just got fucked.”
The corner of your lips curl up. “Well, that’s probably as good as it’ll get—!”
“Plus I’m sure other people don’t have the same observational skills as I do, so you’re probably fine.”
“There it is.”
“And how was it?” Jimin asks as he opens the door to the classroom and allows you to walk back into the hallway of the castle first. “Do you think we got that closure to the tension?”
“We are talking,” You point out as you walk side-by-side with Jimin. “And you don’t have that look in your eyes anymore.”
He stops at that. “What look?”
You stop alongside him and give him a smirk. “That strained look, like the one you gave me before you kissed me.”
Allowing your eyes to linger on each other for a moment longer, you break that connection by turning your head and continuing down the hallway.
.
For someone so good at calculating and organizing his life, Park Jimin missed out a whole factor in his equation to success at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
That factor is you.
Now, he’s had his fair share of flings, makeout sessions, and sexual encounters with members of the female population. Of course he has. He isn’t friends with jocks like Jeon Jungkook or pranksters like Jung Hoseok for nothing—he’s been to those parties in the Room of Requirement and has held up his own in conversations with flirtatious qualms. As someone who trumps logic over emotion, it has never been hard for Jimin to set aside his emotions when something is meant to be a one time thing.
But you. You. You. He really hasn’t accounted for you to linger about in his life the way you have. Mostly, he hasn’t accounted to think about your insults, your sighs, and your whimpers the way he actually has.
It’s hard to tell if you’re feeling the same way. When you’re in study labs together for any class such as charms, muggle studies, or astronomy, he could always swear that your gaze would linger on him for moments too long before switching away. When you two are paired up for potions, the conversations are vague and pertain to the lessons, but it all feels layered with something new. A new unspoken desire, perhaps?
He can’t really get a read on the situation, and that’s the most frustrating aspect of it all.
“Park Jimin?” It’s Professor McGonagall’s voice, one that startles Jimin out of his trance. Jung Jaehyun ducks to hide his laughter.
Jimin blinks, looking up to realize that Professor McGonagall is standing right in front of him, a stack of parchment in her arms and a curious look in her eyes. He’s currently in the middle of his transfiguration lesson. The professor raises an eyebrow, but still pulls a parchment from the stack and passes it down to him. A -1 stares him back up at him, and Jimin feels his heart beat. Although this score is for a mere homework assignment, the grade seems like a weight on his shoulders.
“Is that a minus one, Park?” Jaehyun asks, leaning over and getting into Jimin’s space. “On a homework assignment? What happened there?”
Jimin looks over the assignment. “I guess I didn’t add enough detail to one of my answers.” He looks back at Jaehyun, watching Professor McGonagall hand him his graded assignment. The corner of his lips quirk up. “You’re one to talk, Jung. Minus five? You better keep your grades up if you want to stay on the House Team.”
“Hey, you should see JK’s grades,” Jaehyun retorts. “I swear, that boy was hanging by a thread on some of the recent assignments. Did you know he didn’t even realize he had an astronomy essay due for class until that waitress at the Three Broomsticks had to remind him?”
Jimin grins. “That I remember. You’ve done good keeping an eye on your competition.” Almost unconsciously, he finds himself flinting his gaze towards you only to find that you’re staring right back at him.
You raise an eyebrow at him. Just from a look, Jimin knows what you’re asking him. What did you get?
Feeling vaguely embarrassed about his score, he shrugs. Instead of answering, he jerks his chin towards you. What about you?
You seem to know the reason behind his desire to keep his score a secret from you. You smirk, turning over your parchment and flashing it towards him. A -0 reads at the top. “Pretty good, huh?” You mouth to him.
Jimin flicks his wand underneath the desk. A gust of wind comes out and the parchment flies forward to smack you on the face.
A burst of laughter rings through the classroom as Professor McGonagall whirls around. Having not seen the events leading up to the smack, she narrows her eyes at you. “Miss. Y/N, I don’t believe your perfect grade called for a hit to the face.”
You sink into your seat just enough. “Sorry professor,” You grumble, turning to give the side eye to Jimin.
He is wrong to think that you wouldn’t do anything about his little spell.
“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” You ask as soon as you catch up to Jimin after class is dismissed. Ever since the “Tension-Easing Experiment”, as Jimin liked to label it and no it wasn’t something he had run by you since you’re both not really eager to brush on that topic in detail ever since it had happened, you’ve both been pleasant enough to each other. This conversation starter falls under that list. “Casting spells on me, I thought that task belonged to Jung Hoseok.”
“Perhaps I have learned a thing or two from him.”
You hum at that. “Guess there are some things you can’t fully grasp just from reading textbooks all day.”
He glares at you. “Did you need something today?”
You look back at him. “We have our weekly project meet-up.”
He blinks. “What weekly project meet-up?”
“Well, when Professor McGonagall gave us the assignment, we were meeting up once a week to exchange ideas,” You say slowly. “We stopped because…”
Oh right, I kissed you in the astronomy lab room, Jimin thinks when you trail off.
You clear your throat. “But since we’re talking again…”
Because we had sex.
“I figured it was as good a time as ever to get back into it. Besides, I do have an idea I’d figure I should bounce off of you.”
Jimin stares at you for a moment. Takes in your eyes, your lips, your robe and the clothes you’ve gone on underneath the thick material. You’ve got your hair up into a half-up-half-down ponytail today. Dare he say, you look nice today. “Alright then. Should we go to the library?”
“Actually…” You cut in, shrugging and not meeting Jimin’s eye this time around. “I was thinking we could go back to your friend’s private study room? Since we are talking, and it is exam season. You know, I wouldn’t want to disrupt the other students trying to go over their class material.”
This is true. Midterm season at Hogwarts is underway and lots of peers are starting to lose the light in their eyes. There seems to be a hidden weight in your words, plagued with an idea of ulterior motives, but Jimin is suddenly taken by curiosity to mind. “Uh—right. Sure. Pretty sure Yoongi isn’t running a detention today.”
Even if Yoongi had assigned a detention, which he probably did considering this was Min Yoongi, it was unlikely he’d use his private study. In fact, Jimin vaguely recalls Yoongi saying he had a meeting. So he leads the way down the hallways and past the large windows. The pathway is familiar to him, given how many times he’s taken this route, and it’s not long before he’s uttering the password under his breath and entering the space.
It’s empty when he enters. Actually, it’s hard to tell if Yoongi had even used this office during the days between the “Tension-Easing Experiment” and today. Not that it matters, as you and Jimin push two desks together and take a seat. You slide your robe off this time and rest it at the back of your chair.
“Alright, so what’s this idea of yours?”
You lean back in the chair. “It’s brilliant, if you ask me.”
He smirks. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
You smile slightly at that, turning back towards your desk and curling a finger around your hair. “I thought we might as well keep it simple and play to our strengths.” You look at him. “You’re known being this really charming guy, and from what I understand you’re friends with lots of different guys who are talented in their own unique ways. I think we need to split our presentation into two parts. Your section would be talking about growing up at Hogwarts—how you’ve made your group of friends and how you’ve centered yourself in activities and conversations. Then I’ll come in and talk about how despite transferring during the last year of school, everyone and everything is really adjustable and nice about being a new student.”
“Hm.” Jimin ponders this. You’ve figured out a way to take what he had mentioned, albeit jokingly, and organize a way for you to be involved yet still be connected to his original topic. “It’s not bad, you can be smart sometimes when you want to be.”
“I’m always smart—a lot smarter than you, so it seems,” You return back. You angle the chair towards Jimin and sit back. “Speaking of, what happened with your homework assignment today? Didn’t want to show off your own -0? Or perhaps did you get extra credit out of thin air?”
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Jimin snaps. “Contrary to that, I actually got marked off a point. Forgot to add some details to one of my answers, so it was a minor thing.”
“The Park Jimin I know doesn’t forget to add minor details to his answers,” You point out. “What’s up with you? Does Professor McGonagall have to pull you from the project, and leave me as the sole smartest and brightest student at Hogwarts despite only being here for a month and a half?”
“I think your critical thinking skills have to be checked,” He retorts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt to start an argument. You’re much more observant than you let on, if you’ve taken note of his behavior despite not really being his friend. Getting marked off points for minor details is something both of you have been guilty of on rare occasions, so the fact that you still notice something off leaves a strange feeling in his stomach.
Jimin stares at you for a moment longer, only to find you staring back. Should he indulge you on the thoughts floating around in his head? Would it be worth it?
When you raise an eyebrow, it gives him enough courage to open his mouth.
“Actually, I have a hypothetical situation I’d like to go over with you.”
You don’t say anything to that. It’s a sign to keep talking.
“Say you’ve just slept with someone because you thought it would quell that seemingly moment’s sparks of attraction,” He starts. “But it’s been a few days, and you, hypothetically, can’t stop thinking about that moment. As in, you wouldn’t find sleeping with that person again. Do you indulge that curiosity? Or just leave it be, assuming that the person doesn’t feel the same about you?”
Something flickers in your eyes. “Hm, I’m not sure, you’re being so vague it’s really hard to tell who you’re talking about.”
He groans at that. “You’re being a brat again.”
“You must enjoy that, don’t you?” You say back right away. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be thinking about trying to sleep with me again. Unless you ‘quell momentary sparks of attraction’ with other girls on a daily basis.”
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” He retorts. “You like to think you have all this control over this situation and my feelings, but who was it that was begging me to fuck them just a few nights ago?”
You laugh a little. “You got a point. But who still fucked me after that begging?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “Do you really want to play that game, sweetheart?”
You keep your gaze on him. “What game am I playing, Park Jimin?”
Jimin looks right back at you. After a moment, he wraps his fingers underneath his chair and angles himself so that he can face you. He reaches forward until his hand rests on your thigh, right above the hem of your skirt. “Well, I have something in mind, if you’re willing to hear it.” When you don’t pull back, he continues. “Since you seem set on this idea that you’re in charge, I think I should prove to you otherwise.”
He watches the way your jaw clenches at that.
“First, I would ask you to slide off your panties and your skirt this time, so there’s nothing in the way of me fucking you this time,” He spells out, keeping his eyes on you for signs of slippage. The slight twitch of your thigh is the first tell. “Then, I’d get behind you, turn you around, and press you against this very desk.” He taps the desk you’re sitting in front of. “Depending on how bratty you decide to be, I’ll find a way to keep you where I want you to be. If you’re still a brat, only one of us will be finishing today—and I will tell you right now that it won’t be you.” He leans forward towards you, your eyes flickering towards his lips. “Just tell me no. Tell me you’re not interested and that you don’t look at me the same way. I’ll back off.”
You swallow thickly at that. “What if I don’t want you to back off?”
Things happen very quickly after the question leaves your lips. You’re the one who leans forward, you’re the one who kisses Jimin first. He responds immediately after, pulling you up by your waist until you’re straddling his lap. Gently biting at your lower lip, Jimin still has enough wit to kick the chair you were sitting on away from the desk. It scraps against the classroom floor, a noise that goes loudly unheard of over the roaring of blood in Jimin’s ears.
Jimin pushes you off his lap, forcing you back onto your feet with Jimin following behind shortly after. You barely have time to adjust before his hands are on your waist to spin you around and pin you onto the desk in front of you.
Jimin tightens his hold on your waist. “Look at you, little girl,” He says. The nickname brings color to your cheeks. “You talk a big game but I think when it comes to it, you like being told what to do.” After he’s gotten you settled into position, his hands leave its original position to reach the zipper of the skirt at the small of your back. “Well, since I’ve riled you up this much, we might as well follow through on one of my check-ins, huh?”
His fingers slowly drag down the zipper of your skirt, each movement downwards rings like a bell. Jimin is so close behind you that you can feel his warmth radiating into your body, your legs. He doesn’t take his time. He pulls down the skirt and your panties until they drop at your ankles.
A finger lingers at your entrance, checking. Jimin makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Looks like me spelling out what I was going to do to you was more effective than I thought.”
You whine, pressing your cheek into the wood of the desk. “You don’t always have to report it like that!”
Jimin stills at that. For a moment, the tense silence makes you think that you’ve said something wrong. But all thoughts fly out of the window when Jimin brings his hand down to slap against the back of your thigh. The gesture isn’t too hard or too loud, but it’s enough to make you whimper. “You trying to out-smart me again?”
“N-No, I’m sorry,” You stammer, probably having a brief flashback to his threat about not letting you finish off.
Still, Jimin scoffs. “You seem to think today will end up just like the first time: where you tell me what to do and I’ll do it—would you agree with me?”
You clench and Jimin feels it with his fingers. “Not intentionally.”
“Hm.” Jimin ponders, both of his hands leaving your frame to tug at the tie around his neck. He loosens it and brings the thin fabric down towards you. “I think we should really establish that I’m the one in charge today. Give me your hands.”
Your neck turns slightly to try and catch his eye. “Jimin—!”
“Hands, c’mon little girl, I thought you could follow directions.” Nevermind that this is probably the first time you’ve said his first name as a standalone and there’s something really intimate about that.
You don’t say anything to that, you merely shift your body weight so you are able to rest your hands on your back. Jimin takes your wrists, bringing them together, and loops the fabric of his tie around them. Tight enough that there’s no way you could escape from it, but loose enough to provide some wiggle room. Once your wrists are secure in the tie, Jimin tugs on it to ensure it won’t undo itself.
“This okay?” Jimin asks, albeit a little softly, but his question brings the ghost of a smile across your lips.
You nod. “Yes.”
“Alright then.” There’s the sound of his belt becoming undone, his fingers pulling his cock out of his pants. He lines himself up, his fingers guiding the way before he’s pushing in. The stretch is a little tighter than it had been the last time due to lack of proper foreplay. But there’s enough to get by.
The stretch makes you feel him all the way in your gut, making your head spin as a groan emits from your throat. Your fingers curl into fists at the small of your back. “Fuck,” You let out between teeth as you shut your eyes, knowing that you just have to take what Jimin is giving you.
Soon, the room fills with the softest grunts and groans, the desk rocking in time with his thrusts. His hands stay on his tie, on your wrists, where your fingers curl around his hand—whether for reassurance or to hold onto something solid, it’s hard to tell.
All that matters is that Jimin notices and his heart races for something other than the physicality of what is going on.
.
That day in the classroom seems to create a new label in Jimin’s relationship with you. Given that both of you have seen the other person naked (twice), it brings a new level of casualness between the two of you.
It shows in how Jimin slides rather gracefully into the library, rolls of parchment in his bag and a smirk across his features. He finds you rather quickly, right by the window in a secluded part of the space, and has no problem approaching you and slapping the top of his parchment on your desk. It lands right on top of your books and your own roll of parchment.
There’s a pause. “If the ink on my roll wasn’t dry, I will honestly not hesitant to stab your eye out,” You say right away.
“Charming,” Jimin returns, sitting in the vacant chair next to you. “But I just wanted to show you something. We got our grades back for that Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. As you can see, here’s my plus two extra credit score at the top.”
“What?” You react immediately, leaning over your desk to catch a glimpse of the score. “Damn, what the fuck. How’d you get two extra credit points?”
Jimin is grinning. “What’d you get then?”
You give him a side glare. “One point five?”
“Wow.” Jimin places a hand on his heart. “Did I beat you on an assignment?”
Your side glare has evolved into a full glare.. “As classy as that brag was, beating me on one assignment doesn’t reclaim your place as the smartest student at this school.” You brush some of the hair out of your face as you turn in your seat. “But I guess there’s no harm in congratulating you for this one. Do you want a celebratory blow job?”
Jimin’s heart stutters in his chest at the words. He does whiplash at your question. “I-I’m sorry, what?”
You grin. “A little nervous there, Park Jimin?”
“W-Well no, I just…” He trails off, trying to collect his bearings, trying to make sure that he hadn’t misheard you. “I-I think I wasn’t able to catch what you said…”
“No, I think you heard me pretty clearly.” You’re right. He had heard you perfectly. After all, there’s no reason for him to have not heard you clearly. You’re both in the library for goodness sake—not just the library but a quiet section of the library. “I just figured you want some sort of congratulatory gesture on my part, since we have a little competition going on between the two of us. You scored better today, so I’ll blow you.” You pause for a moment. “Unless you don’t want me to blow you, and you asking questions like this is just you trying to deflect…”
“No! I mean…” He sets his teeth when your grin widens. “Shut up, you’re so annoying.”
“You’re not saying no,” You point out.
“Of course I’m not. Get your stuff, we’re going.” He grabs your wrist as soon as you’ve packed up your school supplies, and he doesn’t let go.
Your laughter echoes all the way down the hallway.
.
It continues like this. In terms of your social relationship with Jimin, it turns into a rivalry boosted by sexual encounters. Depending on who scored better on tests, essays, or homework would get to lead the sex in the empty Head Boy classroom near the abandoned corners of the castle. The atmosphere between you two, while still plagued with banter, has turned into something more light-hearted and conversations have lower defenses.
That’s what one gets after seeing the other person naked for weeks on end.
The improvement in your relationship leads to more open conversations about the project, something that Professor McGonagall has noticed an improvement in.
She says this after calling you and Jimin in for a meeting. It’s the beginning of November now, and the weather has cooled down and the sky reflects the bleeker tone in its dark shades of gray. You and Jimin have been in this strange relationship for about a month and a half now, and you didn’t think there would be any physical changes, until the professor opens her mouth.
“I have to say, Ms. Y/N and Mr. Park, that I’ve noticed you two taking more enjoyment in each other’s company. It’s rather refreshing to look at, considering the way you guys used to always be at each other’s throats beforehand.”
“Definitely agree, in more ways than one,” Jimin says, and you kick him under the table.
The meeting with the professor is short. It’s more of a touching base encounter if anything, where you’re explaining the details of your presentation and continue going more into detail about what each of you will be covering. It ends soon after, with a parting ‘just keep going with what you’re doing’ before both of you are dismissed from the office.
“That went well,” You report as you’re exiting the office together. It’s the middle of the afternoon on a considerably bright Thursday morning, so the castle is a little more alive today with activity. Most students are outside, taking advantage of the sunny weather to sit around in the courtyard or have a picnic or study session with friends on the grass. These are the options that are available to you and Jimin, considering your classes are done for the day and you have nothing else scheduled. Except to study and keep working on essays and study guides.
“I’m glad it’s going well for her, at the very least,” Jimin grunts, rolling his shoulder as he tilts his neck back. “So what are your plans for the rest of the day?”
You shrug. “Not sure.” You narrow your eyes at him. He never really asks you this question unless—“Do we have a meeting in Yoongi’s office?”
‘Meeting in Yoongi’s office’ is the key phrase the pair of you coined to replace the much more lewd question: “Did you want to fuck?” Not only is the former much safer, but it keeps away those unsafe, unwanted, dangerous questions. All of which are things that neither of you want to answer. Neither of you would probably know the answer to them anyways.
Normally, Jimin isn’t shameless about what he wants. When he’s straightforward, he’s eager and demanding and doesn’t like to beat around the bush. You’ve walked out of that classroom with bruises on your neck and a wobble in your knees to prove that. This time, however, feels different. He smirks. “Sweetheart, we had a meeting yesterday.” Translation: we fucked yesterday.
You raise an eyebrow, not acknowledging the nickname. It’s normal in your conversations together, anyways. “When has that ever stopped you before?”
“Touche.” He pauses, and runs a hand through his hair. “But we shouldn’t today. I have an essay for our History of Magic class that I haven’t started.”
“Isn’t that due tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’m aware of that,” Jimin protests. “Listen, I’ve been helping JK with that waitress.”
You bite your lip, vaguely aware of the aforementioned Jungkook and that waitress from the Three Broomsticks. Jimin refuses to spill any details to you. “How’s that going?”
He adjusts the strap of his bag. “She showed up to his Quidditch practice yesterday, which was a plus.”
“Not entirely a plus, it seems. You have a whole ass essay to work on. At this point, it seems like I’ll be in charge of the agenda for the upcoming meeting.” The quirk at the corner of your lips grows slightly.
Jimin smirks, reaching over to tap your nose. “Don’t get cocky, sweetheart.”
You try to ignore the gesture. He’s been getting more handsy with you, ever since he pinned you down on the desk and tied your hands at your back. You look away from him. “Well, regarding what my plans are,” You start. “I should get started on the upcoming Transfiguration report.”
He nods. “Seems like we’re both in for rough afternoons.” He pauses. He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture he only does when he’s pondering something. “How about we suffer together?”
You blink, having not expected that question from him. You did spend a lot of time together, provided all the hours that go into planning the big project and ‘attending Yoongi’s meetings’, as Jimin liked to say, but studying with each other was never on that list. “Do you mean, like, we study together?”
“Hey, if it was such a stupid idea then you should have stopped me immediately,” Jimin retorts, turning red with embarrassment.
“I didn’t say it was a stupid idea!” You say back, eyes wide. “I don’t mind us studying together.”
“Well, that’s really great because I—!” Jimin cuts himself off, clearly not having processed your last sentence before opening his mouth. He looks at you, as it sinks in that you’ve accepted his offer to study together. “Alright, okay, cool. You wanna go to the library?”
You laugh. “Sure, but I gotta ask something. How could I even stop you, since I didn’t know you were trying to ask me on a date?”
He surprises you with a step forward, as he wraps an arm around you and pinches your waist. “I’m not asking you on a date. You’re annoying.”
“And what of it?” You shoot back. You aren’t really expecting an answer, and Jimin doesn’t give you one. Yet, there’s no awkward pause because of it. It’s still just you and Jimin, and it stays that way as you both walk to the library and maintain a casual conversation about your assignments and outside activities.
.
It’s the middle of December when you scribble on the final flashcard and practically slam your quill onto the table. Jimin jumps slightly, but his startled expression eases into a slight smile when you hunch over and press your head into the desk. “Finished?”
“Finished,” You repeat, lifting your head back up and looking at the array of notes and organized flashcards that are scattered across the table. Each flashcard is covered from top to bottom in your handwriting, all meant to help guide your speech for the project you have spent months agonizing over. No stone is left unturned, every single aspect of your experience is covered upon, per the request of Professor McGonagall.
Immediately, you move to collect your flashcards and ensure that they are in the proper order. The little numbers you have written in the top of the parchment help with that.
There’s another silence that overtakes the air, but it’s a comfortable one. It’s filled with the scratches of Jimin’s quill against his own parchment, it’s filled with the crumbling sound of papers stacking atop one another as you organize your flashcards. Once they’re all together, you look at the top piece of parchment. “Even with a late enrollment that brings you to Hogwarts in your last year, the welcoming environment makes the transition to different classes, social groups, and activities extremely easy and exciting…” You read quietly to yourself.
After a few minutes, Jimin puts his own quill down. It’s much gentler than what you had done a few seconds ago, but it’s still more than enough to fix your attention on him.
“Finished?” You ask him.
He nods, before sighing and running a hand through his hair. The locks are slightly overgrown by now, which leaves his hair in strands that stick up all over the place.
“Is it perfect?” You ask.
Jimin tilts his head back. Your eyes linger on the column of his throat before returning back to your notes. “Honestly, we’ve gone through so much editing and revisions that I would just throw myself off the astronomy tower if it wasn’t perfect.”
You laugh slightly. “That’s true…”
“You look nervous,” Jimin notes, placing his elbow on the table and resting his head in the palm. “Worried about impressing daddy at the Ministry?”
You close your eyes and let out a huff. “Why do you have to say it like that?”
“Am I wrong?”
You sigh. “I mean technically you’re not.”
He feigns an over dramatic gasp that earns him the attention of some other students littered around the library. “So I was right this whole time! What the fuck!”
“Jimin, keep your voice down,” You hiss. “Why don’t you ask that Namjoon friend of yours to publish a whole article about it while you’re at it?”
“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea—OW!” Jimin jumps when you suddenly reach over to pinch his thigh. He flashes a guilty look to the other students around him who shoot glares that could kill. After a moment of apologetic expressions and mouthing ‘sorry’ to anyone who would listen, he turns back to you. “You’re really going to get it tonight.”
“During our meeting with Yoongi, you mean?” You ask back, giggling into your palm.
He shakes his head and goes back to his flashcards. “You better watch yourself, sweetheart.” He pauses for a second, watching you out of the corner of his eye before he resumes his attention back on you. “So what does your dad do at the Ministry?”
You look at him, thinking about how you’re going to answer for a second before you sigh. It’s probably because Jimin actually addressed your father as ‘your dad’ as opposed to ‘daddy’. “He works in the Department of Magical Education. That’s why he asked that I be a part of the presentation group. It helped that I was one of the top students at my old school.”
Jimin is quiet for a moment.
It’s long enough for you to kick him underneath the table. “Why ask me if you’re not going to ask anything?”
He looks away. “It’s not that—I guess I wasn’t expecting you to actually tell me.”
“Oh.” You stop, turning red. “W-Well,” You continue, staring holes into the table in front of you. “I-I guess we’re f-friends?”
Jimin smirks. “Friends, huh?”
“Don’t make me regret saying that!”
“Hm.” Jimin hums. “So, your dad works in the Magical Education Department. Is that why you transferred to Hogwarts?”
“You could say that…”
He whines your name, scooting closer to you to wrap his arms around you. “Hey, you can give me a straight answer. I thought we were friends.”
You make a noise of protest in the back of your throat, nevermind the way he’s so natural about his physical touches with you. “Fine, fine, yes, his new job is the reason why we transferred. Now let go of me, you’re going to get us kicked out of here!”
“Let Madam Pince kick us out, we’re basically done with our project anyways.” But he does let go of you, the finality of your words probably that pusher. He does not, however, move away from you. He keeps an arm curled around the back of your chair. “You going home for Christmas break?”
“Yeah,” You say, not saying anything about his still close proximity. “I do miss my parents—plus I’m sure my father would want to hear about how the presentation will go.”
He nods. “Sounds like it’ll be a stressful Christmas.”
You look at him. “What will you be up to, Park Jimin? Sneaking through the restricted section?”
He pouts. “I don’t need to sneak through it—I’m not a first-year. I can actually get a note from a professor. Dark Arts is cool to read about.”
“If you say so,” You tease back. “Anything else?”
“Well, there’s actually a party I’m throwing with my friends to celebrate making it up to this point. It’ll be in the Room of Requirements.” He ponders the next thought for a moment. “You should come.”
You blink. “I’m going home for the holidays?”
“No, you dork.” Jimin flicks your forehead. “The party will be before the holiday break starts—so everyone who wants to go can enjoy one fun thing before going back home.”
You tilt your head. “That sounds exciting. But, well, I’m not a huge drinker. It should be fun for you, though.”
He pouts again. “What if I wanted you to come? What do I have to do to convince you?”
You give him a look. “Nothing, Park Jimin, I’m not a party person.”
“You really are,” Jimin agrees, sliding away, looking disappointed in your answer. “I hope you’ll be able to sleep tonight knowing you just crushed all my dreams.”
You roll your eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Park Jimin. What’s this about?”
He shrugs. “I thought it’d be cool to see you do something fun for once in your life.”
“Wow, he’s dramatic and rude,” You say, watching as he smiles a little at your usage of his pronoun despite the fact that he is right here in front of you.
“Well, I guess I just have to accept your answer,” Jimin says after a moment, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll be missing out. I think Hoseok is pulling out all the stops. Alcoholic butterbeer galore.”
“And I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it, no matter if I want to hear it or not,” You return, looking at your water. “Oh shit, I gotta go.”
Jimin watches you collect your parchment and books, and the way you stuff them into your bag. “Where are you going?”
You look at him, blinking. “Uh—Actually, I don’t think I should tell you.”
He pouts, again. “What? Why not?” His curiosity only grows when you just give him a meek smile, and turn to rush out of the library. He calls your name. “Shit, hold on!” He doesn’t bother to organize anything, he just throws everything into his bag before he’s dashing to catch up to you. He also doesn’t bother to check around him before he’s throwing his arms out to encircle you around the waist.
“Jimin!” You exclaim, both of you slowing to a time. “You’re needy today.”
“Where are you going?” He tightens his hold. “I took some workout advice from Jungkook, I won’t hesitate.”
You still at that. “What the fuck? Are you implying that you’ll crush me otherwise?”
“Don’t change the subject!”
You sigh, reaching into the pocket of your robe. “I may or may not have gotten an offer to get extra credit from Professor Flitwick for Charms.”
He pauses. “Aren’t you and I having a bet about who can get the higher grade in that class?”
“Uh, perhaps?” Suddenly, you bend your wrist slightly to poke your wand in his stomach. “Rictusempra.”
A silver light beams from the end of your wand, and Jimin bursts out into laughter. He releases his hold on you immediately, falling to his knees as the giggling that escapes his lips fills the air and takes the energy out of his knees. “A—giggling—charm?” He manages in between breaths.
You whirl around to face him, twirling your wand. “Sorry Park. I saw an opportunity and I took it. Hopefully one of your friends can help you—preferably after I’ve made my way down this hallway.” You turn back towards your original direction and actually run away from him.
Jung Hoseok is eventually the one to find Jimin on the floor, laughing, crowded by students who were intrigued to see the great Park Jimin at his wits end. Although those same students help him onto his feet, there’s still the mark of amusement in their eyes, and Jimin’s cheek heat nonetheless.
The next time he sees you, he’ll get you back for this.
.
Jimin’s party is the night before the winter holiday begins. All the classes are done, all the essays and tests are submitted. The snow has become a permanent decoration to the school, all compact white blanketing the grass and exterior castle walls. The chill has settled more deeply in the air, bringing up the heavy scarfs and heavier coats. Breaths come out in puffs of air. And you are near the fireplace.
Actually, more specifically, you are finishing up a last minute extra credit report for Astronomy. Not that your grades need the extra boost—Professor Sinistra had offered to provide you with the assignment that allowed you to indulge a little deeper in star placement and you weren’t going to waste away that chance. It’s due tomorrow morning, right before you take the train back home, so you are wasting away, scribbling all the research that you can recall onto the parchment.
You’re finishing up your conclusion paragraph when you hear the door to the common room slide open, announcing the presence of a student. You don’t pay attention to this. Judging by the darkness clouding the sky, it’s getting late and you assume that the students who had gone to Jimin’s party should be heading back by now. When it gets too late, even though classes and henceforth school are paused, there are still certain punishments on the line.
You don’t pay much attention to the student, until you notice that figure now standing right in front of your table near the fireplace. You look up. It’s Jung Jaehyun—Seeker for the Slytherin team. And, as you are aware of, an attendee to Jimin’s party.
The thing is, however, that you and Jaehyun have interacted a grand total of exactly zero times. Neither of you ran in the same social circle—if the friend you’ve made that spends more time in the greenhouse than in class could be considered a social circle.
Jaehyun looks just as uneasy as you do, with the way he’s shifting back and forth on his feet. “Y-You’re Y/N, right?”
You straighten slightly. That is, obviously the first time Jaehyun has ever said your name. “Y-Yes. And you’re Jaehyun?”
“Yeah…” Jaehyun starts, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen, I know this is totally out of line for me. But would it be too much if I asked you to come with me to the Room of Requirement?”
“Uh…” You trail off. You hadn’t been expecting much upon seeing Jung Jaehyun standing right in front of you. But you really hadn’t been expecting this. “Is… there a reason why…?”
“Well…” Jaehyun tries again, but trails off. He seems to be having trouble figuring out how to explain his story. “I think you know that Jimin and his friends were having a party down there, right?”
You keep staring at Jaehyun. “Did something happen to Jimin?”
“N-No, not really, it’s just, he drank a bit and he’s refusing to leave until he sees someone…”
You press your lips together, having a vague idea of where this could be going but refusing to make assumptions. “Was I that someone?”
“Well, okay, he didn’t mention a specific name. He just kept saying he wanted to see his girlfriend before he left…”
“Okay, then why don’t you take his girlfriend down there?”
Jaehyun looks pained for a second. “Jimin doesn’t have a girlfriend. His friends and I were trying to figure it out. You’re the only person he spends all this time with besides his core group. We figured asking you to come down would be a good place to start.”
You swallow at the thought. You’ve never really set foot into Jimin’s world, it wasn’t really your scene. Even back at Ilvermorny, you were well known because of your grades, but you weren’t a popular student. But more than that, Park Jimin calling you his girlfriend? The thought seemed highly unlikely. You aren’t even sure that he feels that deeply for you—rather, your relationship was formed as a byproduct of forced participation. Without that presentation to the Ministry, you’re sure you would never have had a proper conversation with Jimin.
Still, Jaehyun looks like he’s about to fling himself off the Astronomy tower. The more time goes by, the higher the chances of Jimin and the rest of his friends getting caught and getting saddled with detention. You figure: what’s the harm?
“W-Well, uh, sure.” You straighten up, placing your items into your bag and taking a second to drop that bag off on your dorm bed. Jaehyun is still in the common room when you get down, and leads the way to the Room of Requirement. The walk there is another maze of walls and windows and firelit pathways.
But instead of the Room of Requirement entrance you see, you notice a group of boys lingering outside the blank wall Jaehyun had told you let to the party. For a moment, you wonder if the group were attendees of the party. But the closer you get, and the more you start to hear voices that sound vaguely familiar saying names that sound even more so, you realize that this group is The group—Jimin’s group.
“Taehyung!” Jaehyun calls as soon as the two of you are in hearing range.
The boy, you assume is Taehyung, looks up towards the source of the noise. His eyes land on you and he visibly looks relieved. “Hey, you must be Y/N.” He nods towards you, and tilts his head towards the boy leaning heavily against him. “Hey Jimin.” He calls for the boy, but he looks unsure. Probably because he too isn’t sure if you’re who Jimin is describing as his girlfriend. “Uh, we brought your girlfriend?”
It sounds more like a question than an actual statement. But Jimin doesn’t seem to notice. He lifts his head up from Taehyung’s shoulder and locks his gaze onto you. At once, his eyes turn into half moons with how brightly he is smiling at you. It’s like the sun has come out, with the light glimmering in his eyes and his cheeks rounding out. He calls out your name. “Baby, you showed up!” He cries, managing to untangle himself from Taehyung and latch immediately onto you. You might have stumbled, had Jaehyun not helped catch some of Jimin’s weight. “I thought you weren’t coming!”
“Uh…” You trail off, mind going haywire. How could it not? Jimin, someone who is definitely not your boyfriend, is calling you his girlfriend, calling you baby, and hugging you like his life depends on it. The two of you just have sex! Under unestablished rules, sure, but that type of situation calls for an actual discussion beforehand. “Well, your friends said you wouldn’t leave the party unless I showed up. Why don’t we all head back to our Houses, before we all get detention?”
Jimin nods, cheek against your cheek. “That sounds good. Look at my Y/N—so smart and wonderful.”
“Y/N… didn’t he want to rip her neck off at the beginning of the year?” One of the boys whispers. You, of course, hear it, because Jimin’s friends lack indoor voices and it shows. “And now he’s admitting that she’s smart? What the fuck?”
“Shut up, Hoseok.”
Another boy turns to you, an appreciative smile on his lips. It’s Min Yoongi—Head Boy, and fellow Slytherin. “Just ignore Hoseok. And I’m sorry this is how we’re meeting you—from what Jimin says you’re super smart and it drives him crazy, so naturally I’m your biggest fan. I’m Yoongi.”
You nod, trying for a smile. “I know. I would shake your hand, but…”
“You’ve got a Jimin attached to you, I got it.” Yoongi waves his hand dismissively, whirling around to face his group. “Alright, you bitches. You better be in your Houses before I finish my first round of the castle otherwise you’re all getting detention.” There’s a momentary wave of protests before Yoongi interrupts it. “Or I don’t have to do a round and can just give you all detention right now…”
“No, no, okay, we’re going.” It’s the boy who had called Hoseok out, telling him to shut up. He winks at you as he brushes past you, and flashes some finger guns at Jaehyun.
“Fuck you too, JK,” Jaehyun returns, before leveling you with a gaze. “We should get going, huh?”
“Yeah,” You manage, adjusting Jimin on your shoulder before you and Jaehyun practically drag Jimin down to the Slytherin common room. As soon as you enter, you dump Jimin onto the couch, where he slumps backwards and remains unmoving. He laughs, eyes wide as they gaze up at you.
He brings his arms up, bringing his fingers together in a grabby motion. “Y/N, come sit with me.”
Jaehyun coughs, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll, uh, leave the two of you alone. Thanks for coming out with me, you really saved us.”
You nod. “No problem, although it seemed like Yoongi could have handled it.”
“Nah, that punk is a Head Boy through and through. Loves his friends to death, but wouldn’t hesitate to give detention. Anyways, I’m off to bed. It was nice to meet you.”
You smile. “You too.” You watch Jaehyun and he disappears up the stairs, into the boys room.
A tug on the hem of your skirt pulls you back. Jimin is still gazing up at you. “Come here!” He pouts, pulling a little too hard and sending you stumbling forward right onto him. Your legs end up on either side of him, effectively straddling his waist. His arms curl around your body. “Isn’t this better? This reminds me where we were just a few weeks ago—!”
“Jimin,” You cut in, flushing at the thought of aforementioned few weeks ago. “What are you doing?”
He blinks, the haziness from his drinking still glimmering in his eyes. “I’m just hugging you.”
“No, Jimin.” Your hands find a place on his shoulders. “What are you doing? I’m not your girlfriend, so why would you say that down there in front of your friends?”
“Wait, you’re not my girlfriend?” He’s still looking like a deer in the headlights. “But… I really like you, so I thought that something was going on…” He looks lost.
A lot is pinging through your head—did Jimin just confess to you? “Jimin, you like me?”
He nods. “I do, I really do.” His nod is lagging, it’s a little slow as he probably doesn’t want to make himself sick with movement too fast. “You’re so funny. And smart. And mean. But I like it. It’s not too mean, but mean enough to make me laugh.”
You laugh a little. “You’re drunk, Jimin, you don’t know what you’re saying. You would never admit that I’m smart.”
He sighs, tilting his head back until it rests on the back of the couch. “I would never say it out loud, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Fuck, my head hurts…”
“You should get some sleep,” You say, instead of trying to push the topic further. “Do you need help getting into the boys dorm room?”
“I don’t think I can make it up there,” He retorts softly. “I might have to crash down here.” He gazes up at you. “Will you stay down here with me?”
You waver slightly, lots of questions running through your mind. If you slept down here with Jimin, surely someone would wake up and catch the two of you. Rumors would fly, questions would be asked.
Still, Jimin looks so cozy and vulnerable—an absolute rarity. And who knows, perhaps if things don’t go the way you want them to, you could use this moment against him. A reminder of when the great Park Jimin, a rock of stubbornness and arrogance, looked at you like you were the stars.
So you sigh. “Sure, I’ll stay down here with you.”
You don’t need to tell anyone that the smile flashing across his face makes your answer worth it.
.
You awake rather abruptly to the movement that happens next to you. Every muscle in your body is aching, so completely sore from the position you’ve rolled into. You open your eyes to a collarbone, a flash of the Slytherin green tie. You blink sleepily, disorientated, as your gaze slides up—!
To see Jimin staring down at you.
You jump slightly. “Shit, sorry.”
“No worries.” Jimin groans, stretching. Or, trying to stretch. The couch you’re both on top of offers very little space for movement. It also explains your sore neck. “Ugh, fuck.”
You sit up, rolling your neck and hearing the satisfying crack of bones. “How are you feeling?”
“Gross,” He answers, sitting up as well. You’re sitting between his legs, the close proximity allowing you to see the tiredness in his eyes. That isn’t surprising. The sun has barely started to rise over the mountains. Given that the sky is a very vague shade of orange, you can only assume it’s five or six o’clock in the morning.
You look up at him. “You hungover too?”
He presses fingers to his temple. “A little headache, but it’s not too bad.” He lowers his hand, and looks over at you. “I wasn’t that drunk, Y/N, I do remember what happened last night. Maybe I was a little more transparent than normal, but…”
You raise an eyebrow, egging him on. “But?”
He stares at you for a moment longer, before he laughs a little, tilting his head backwards. “Aw, Y/N, don’t make me say it!”
You can’t help but smile back. “No, I think I want you to say it. Otherwise I’ll think you’re pulling my leg.”
He lifts his head towards you, pouting. “I would never pull your leg.”
“Then say it,” You say leaning towards him.
As soon as you’re close enough, Jimin’s hand comes up to trap your chin in between his thumb and index finger. The gesture is done to keep you close, to keep your eyes fixated on his, all so he can gauge your expression. He seems to be debating on how truthful he wants to be for this. “But… I wasn’t lying when I said that I liked you.” His eyes flicker between your own. “Even though you’re annoying all of the time.”
You can’t help it. You start to laugh. “Takes one to know one, huh?”
He brings you forward, shifting your center of gravity and bringing you forward towards him. You gasp as your hands come out to rest on the arms of the couch, on either side of Jimin. The gesture, however, brings you closer to him, so that your lips are hovering right over one another. “You’re being a brat again. Shut up.”
You quirk an eyebrow, although he’s too close to see it properly. “Make me, Park Jimin.”
He groans. “Don’t say that. I’m too gross to fuck you right now. And aren’t you going back home today after you submit that report to Professor Sinistra?”
You smile a little, touched that he remembers your report. “I finished the report. And…” You trail off, pulling back enough to look at your watch. You were right: the current time reads 6:15AM. “There’s still five hours before the train leaves…”
Jimin looks up at you. “I’ve got an idea. You have to be quiet though.”
You raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were into voyeurism, Park, but if that’s what you want…” You start to unbutton the polo of your shirt.
Jimin’s eyes widen. “H-Hey, stop, I didn’t mean here! Button that back up!”
You gaze over at him, two buttons on your blouse undone, more than enough to expose your collarbone. “What’s wrong?”
“Why do I like you so much, you’re nothing but a brat,” Jimin grunts, mostly to himself as he reaches out to button back your shirt. “I meant somewhere else. You have to be quiet on the way to the place, you idiot. Come on.”
He takes your head, lacing the fingers together, and making your heart jump in your throat as Jimin guides the pair of you out of the Slytherin common room and up the stairs. Making your way up to the fifth floor, he turns into a corridor with statues along the wall. He finally stops at one, the statue you recognize to be Boris the Bewildered.
“Pine Fresh,” Jimin whispers to the statue, which moves to the side and allows Jimin to drag both you and himself into the hidden room. At the detection of movement, the candlelights along the walls light up which further heightens the place Jimin has just taken you into.
It’s a large bathroom. The first thing you notice are the stained glass windows that surround the entirety of the room. Each window paints a different picture of mermaids across the surface, all of which are moving around the space much like every other piece of artwork in this castle. Some of them wave to the pair of you, but most of them continue to mind their own business of looking out the window and enjoying the view of the mountains surrounding Hogwarts.
The moving pictures of mermaids, however, isn’t where your attention has fallen. Your eyes flicker all over the place, trying to take in more of this place Jimin has taken you to.
Located on the left side of the room is a row of squeaky clean, polished and shiny toilets in stalls with a row of sinks, mirrors, and makeup counters on the other side. Located on the right side of the room is a lounging area, couches and cushions in the space and a row of bathrobes along the wall.
The middle of the room houses the main attraction of the space—it’s a large bathtub, as big as a swimming pool with how wide and deeply the hole has been cut into the ground. The tapping for the bath surrounds the tub, each tap with a different colored jewel atop the metal piping. Along the edge of the tub are different baskets, each basket holding a different shaped container and bath product.
“Shampoo, conditioner, soaps, bath oils, and bath salts,” Jimin explains, seeming to notice your lingering gaze upon the baskets.
“Cool, uh…” You pause, trying to gather your thoughts properly enough to ask the biggest question of them all. “What is this place?”
“Oh! Right.” He gestures to the entire room. “Welcome to the Prefects’ Bathroom.”
You turn your gaze towards him, eyes wide. “The Prefects’ Bathroom? Shouldn’t we not be here then?” You’ve heard of this place before back at Ilvermorny. It’s considered a secret location that only Head Boys, Head Girls, Prefects, and Quidditich captains. Definitely not a place for you or Jimin to be in.
He grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Relax, baby. I got the password from Yoongi. And it’s six in the morning on the first day of winter holiday. I doubt any of the people allowed in there wouldn’t think to come in right now.”
You exhale, unable to ignore the quickening of your heart race. It was one thing to fool around in Yoongi’s private study. But being in this type of place that increased the chances of getting caught makes you nervous.
Jimin can see that, because he steps closer to you and rests a hand on your waist. “Hey,” He says, not speaking again until you’re looking up at him. “It’s okay. I don’t want to suggest anything that’ll make you uncomfortable. I just thought of this place because it’s, for the most part, secluded and unused. We’re both tired and groggy, so I thought we could use the bath.”
You take in a breath, before making your decision and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Alright, I’ll decide to trust you on this. So what’s your plan, Park Jimin? What are you gonna do to me?”
He laughs at that, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. “Well, sweetheart, we can go about this in two ways. Number one: we’ll go right on that couch and we’ll have a celebratory fuck on some actual cushions for once. Then, after that, we’ll take a bath. Or number two: we skip the fuck and take the bath instead.”
You feign a gasp. “You would skip a fuck for me?”
He mirrors your gasp. “Of course. That’s what you get for making me fall for you.”
“Charming,” You say with a smile. “Lucky for us, I like you too. In fact, I like you so much, I can feel your boner against my leg so I’ll even have sex with you just for that.”
His smile widens. He sighs dreamily, which makes you laugh. “Wow, are you the girl of my dreams or something?”
“Hm, what happened to trying to skip my neck off?”
“You really know how to keep up a mood,” Jimin mumbles. “I’m just gonna kiss you before you ruin this any further for us.” So he does, covering his lips with yours.
There’s something different about this kiss. Normally, with your escapees or ‘meetings with Yoongi’, the kisses you share are frantic and haphazard and not really the main purpose of your interaction. The kisses are short-lived and bruising. But this kiss is different. It’s softer and slow-paced enough that it allows for exploration. It’s a kiss where your fingers gently brush over Jimin’s collarbone, where his own fingers settle at your jawline in order to trace over your cheeks and your neck. The sensation as light as it is makes your head spin.
You aren’t even aware the pair of you are moving throughout the room until you feel Jimin hit something in front of you, and behind him. The back of his knees hit one of the cushions on the right side of the room, and he falls back. You fall on top of him, straddling him. It’s a similar position to where you were less than a day ago, but the intent is different. You hardly register any potential pain or jolts. Jimin just brings you back to kissing him, fingers moving down to curl around your waist instead.
Only when it feels like it takes too much energy to kiss and breathe properly at the same time does Jimin pull away to dust kisses along your cheek, before moving down to kiss along your jawline, down your neck. Your tilt your head back, eyes closed as you let out a breathy sigh. Your hips start to move of its own accord, grinding down on the already stiff junction between his legs.
Jimin groans at that, tightening his hold on your waist and guiding you to move deeper and faster. The bathroom fills with the noises escaping between your lips and the rustle of clothing.
You and Jimin seem set on fixing that problem right away. Being in this position on a couch is so much more different than sex in a classroom on top of tables and chairs. It brings a comfort neither of you have experienced before. With that comfort comes this desire to just go all the way, to feel skin beneath fingertips. It happens too. First the sweater vests go, then the ties and the shirts.
Jimin goes quiet at the sight of your chest, hands encircling your breast and thumb running over the nipple. His mouth replaces his hand, circling the nip with his tongue. The warmth of it brings chills that hit every nerve in your body. You arch your back, as Jimin’s hands at your waist keep you rooted to the spot.
You start to claw at the waistband of his slacks, one thought pinging through your mind—and that was to see this through to the end. “J-Jimin,” You whine, already filling to wet and foggy. Jimin pays you no attention, merely switching to your other breast to wrap your nipple in his mouth. You whimper, grinding a little faster. Your fingers make their way up to his hair, curling the digits around his locks. You pull him away just enough for him to look up and make eye contact with you, but not enough. His mouth is still around your nipple.
He hums, and the vibration sends through your body.
He pulls away from you. “What is it?”
You look down at him, pouting and whining.
He cups your face with one of his hands. “You have to use your words, baby.”
You let out a sigh to calm your nerves. “N-Nothing,” You manage. “I just, I really want you right now. And I’m glad you like me too.”
Jimin quirks the corner of his lips, before his fingers are curling under the waistband of your skirt. “C’mon, let’s get you out of this.”
A few tugs and shift adjustments later, you’re both naked atop the cushions. Hands are running over skin, and Jimin’s hands remain at your sides to lift you up just enough until you’re hovering over his cock—long and hard.
At this, Jimin brings your upper body closer until your ear is hovering near his lips. He kisses below, a spot that makes the shiver travel up your spine, before he goes back to hovering at your lobe. “You wanna show me how good you take dick?”
You nod, brain still fuzzy as Jimin starts kissing down your neck again. It’s a very distracting sensation, the feeling of his pillowy lips against your skin. Your toes curl on the couch when his cock hovers right above your slit, right where you want him.
With the guidance of Jimin’s hands, he starts to push you down, the stretching sensation forcing a sigh past your lips. Even though you and Jimin have had sex for awhile—even the most recent ‘meeting with Yoongi’ had occured a week ago—something about this feels different. There’s a deep rooted passion in his kisses, in the bites he’s littering across his neck. Almost as if Jimin had been holding back for that month and a half of casual sex, and now has let his full love and admiration of you loose.
Every inch of Jimin inside of you is another euphoric wave that washes over you. You had thought today wouldn’t be too different from previous encounters, but the shaking of your knees tells you otherwise. “J-Jimin—!” You whine. “Fffuck…”
“Look at you go,” He praises, eyes fixed on your spot of connection until you’re filled to the hilt. You feel so impossibly full. “Made just for me.”
He waits for you. He waits until you stop clenching around him, until you relax. Only then does he hold onto your waist again and slowly start bouncing you on his cock. Your grip around his shoulders start to tighten as the friction makes your head spin. You let yourself be led, breathy moans turn to gasps. “Nn, fuck, feels so good…”
He feels you start to randomly clench around him again. Having spent so many late evenings and early afternoons with you, he knows your signs perfectly. You’re close.
He finishes you off with a thumb at your clit, circling at the bundle of nerves just right until your gasps turn into cries and you’re spazzing around his cock. The sensation is tight and warm, and Jimin chokes as his fingers dig into your skin to keep him grounded as he spills up into you.
The blood-rushing physicality of what had just happened starts to settle in, leaving the two of you against the couch with mismatched breaths and his dick still inside of you. “Oh shit…” He whines. “You like me too.”
You lift yourself off of him, raising an eyebrow. “Is that the only thing you got from that?”
His hands on your hips keep you from moving around. His cock is softening around your walls, all helping his heart rate return to a comfortable pace. “Well, had I know us liking each other meant mind-blowing sex, yeah, I get to be a little salty I didn’t say anything earlier.”
You laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
He smirks. “That’s right.” He readjusts, helping you up and off of his dick. His cum, white liquid, spills out of you.
You cup yourself immediately. “Oh shit, that’s gonna get on this cushion.”
“Oh shit.” Jimin cups your pussy too. Extra barrier, he would say. He turns towards the long bathtub. “How about a bath now?” He flashes you a grin when you nod.
Keeping one arm around your waist to keep you steady, he leans down to dig through the pile of his clothes until he produces his wand. Turning towards the tub, he waves his wand. At once, the water from the tabs go off, each flow of water a different color. Some emit a string of bubbles, giving a formy texture to the bathwater currently in the tub.
Given the size of the bathtub, one might have assumed it would take a long time to fill the space, so it’s a surprise to see water nearing the top after only a matter of minutes. Jimin waves his wand again to stop the water coming out of the tabs.
Jimin removes his hand from you and allows you to straighten into a standing position. He stands too, guiding you to the edge of the bathtub where he lets you step into the water first.
The water is the perfect temperature, warm and wonderful as it envelops your body. As you sink down, you sigh as you feel your muscles relaxing, where you don’t stop adjusting until your butt hits the appropriate step to sit on. Jimin follows in after you, not stopping until he’s sitting right behind you.
“Ahhhhh, shit, this is perfect,” He says quietly, wrapping his arms around you. The only sound in the room is the rustle of water that splashes around softly in time to the movements both of you make.
You move your head slightly to dip strands of your hair into the water. “Wow, no wonder Yoongi takes his job so seriously. I’d hate to lose out on this.”
“Well, just stick with me, baby, and we’ll keep sneaking around for the rest of the school year.”
You turn slightly to look at him. “Do you mean… sneaking around Head Boy equipment, or sneaking around the school?” There’s an implication in your question. Do you plan to keep me a secret?
However, Jimin quells that worry rather quickly. “Sweetheart, I’ve been chasing you around for a month and a half—emotionally and physically. Do you really think I’d be able to keep my feelings a secret in front of other people?”
You smile, relaxing back into his arms. “I’m glad to hear that…”
“Plus when I kick your ass in our classes, I think that it’s more satisfying to hear that I beat my girlfriend instead of that transfer student from Ilvermorny. Makes it more personal. Just how I like it.”
“There it is.”
He laughs, nudging himself further into you. It stays like this for a little bit, both of making conversation, but mostly just done in the privacy of this space you’ve carved for yourselves. You aren’t too sure of how much time has gone by until you’re hearing the statue behind the entrance to the bathroom move, followed immediately by a voice. It’s Min Yoongi.
“Hey, who the fuck is in here—oh shit, Jimin?” A pause, both of you immediately spinning around to look towards the source of the noise. Yoongi notices you immediately, eyes widening as he turns around to face the wall. “Is that Y/N? What the fuck are you doing here? This is the Prefects’ Bathroom!” Another pause. “Wait, hold the fuck up—are you guys together?”
You, however, don’t hear any of those questions. You’re too busy squealing in surprise, immediately dipping your body lower into the water to avoid having Yoongi’s eyes wander to places they don’t belong. You cover your breasts to further avoid that.
Jimin shifts towards you to block your body. “What the fuck? What are you doing here? It’s Saturday morning!”
“Hey!” Yoongi whirls around, red-faced, purposefully avoiding your gaze. “Don’t answer my question with a question! And I’m Head Boy, I’m allowed in here!”
“You gave me the password!”
“Yes, in the case of an emergency! Is snuggling up to your girlfriend really an emergency?”
“Well, in that case no, but having a celebratory bath with my new girlfriend could be classified as an emergency?”
“JIMIN.” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, whirling around. “Holy fuck, if Flinch saw you in here… if he knows that you’re in here thanks to me…”
“Uh…” You say from behind Jimin. Only your neck is visible above the water, so your voice and arm raising are extremely meek. “Yoongi? I’m sorry… we were both tired and gross, and Jimin had a hangover…”
“No, uh, Y/N…” Yoongi cuts in, albeit more gently. “I don’t blame you.” He looks down at his watch. “I should probably let you know, however, that it’s almost eight o’clock and I’m aware that you have a report to submit to Professor Sinistra before the train leaves back for home?”
“Oh shit!” You startle at that news. “I have to go do that now…”
Yoongi glares at Jimin, then looks back at you, and sighs heavily. “Okay,” He starts slowly. “I’m just gonna stand outside and pretend that I didn’t see any of this. You guys better be out there in five minutes though. Both of you.” Without another look at either of you, Yoongi exits the room.
Immediately, you and Jimin scramble to dry yourselves off. Both of you decide to just leave your hairs damp and wet, electing that just getting the basics of your attire on is more important. In the end, you’re both just in your appropriate bottoms, and messily put together blouses and tops. Yours isn’t even buttoned all the way, leaving your collarbone exposed and littered with Jimin’s marks from earlier.
Jimin grabs your waist before both of you could make it out. “I’ll be able to see you before you get on the train, right?”
You hum, arm around his neck. “Aw, will the baby miss me?”
He glares, pushing you away slightly. “I’m just asking.”
You laugh. “Most likely, I just need to submit the report. And pack—I didn’t really get to do that yesterday.”
“Okay, okay.” Jimin lets you go. “I just wanted to make sure.”
Flashing him one more smile, you lead both you and Jimin out of the room. True to Yoongi’s word, he’s waiting outside with his hands in his pockets and his eyes averted. They, however, fix themselves on you as soon as you emerge from behind the statue with Jimin.
“I was this close to tipping you off to Mr. Flinch…” Yoongi trails off, studying the two of you. His eyes settle on the hickies at your throat. He freezes. “Wait, did you guys fuck in there?”
“Uh…” Jimin looks at you, the realization settling in both of your gazes. “WELL, Y/N, the love of my life, it was great knowing you, how about you run off to Professor Sinistra while I try to outrun Yoongi’s rage.”
Yoongi pales, looking like his soul has just departed from his body. “So that means…”
You nod, corner of your lips smiling despite the potential outcome of the situation. “I’ll write to you once a week.” You look back at Yoongi’s increasingly stony expression. “I’m sorry Yoongi.” You say this before turning around and practically running down the hallway.
Just before you turn to go down the stairs to collect your report, you make out one last sentence: “JIMIN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”
#jimin scenario#jimin x reader#jimin x you#jimin fluff#jimin smut#jimin x y/n#bts scenarios#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts imagines#bts smut#traci writes#hp reputation series#i..... am so tired#i want to be freed from this fic
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No Such Thing As Stupid Questions - Satogou oneshot
This oneshot can be found here on AO3.
Ash was thankful for the rare respite he enjoyed right now in his living room – a respite that was especially welcome after a long day at the office. Propping his feet on the love seat recliner, he turned the channel to cartoons. Finally, a full day that I can have to myself-
“Kyaaaaaah!” an eight-year-old boy’s scream could be heard from the bedroom corridor. “Stay away!”
“Bwaaaah!” cackled an eight-year-old girl.
Spoke too soon. Ash groaned, knowing that his ten-second break had come to an end. His first two children were sweet as candy, even if they did have their mischievous moments. He could handle running a household and being President of Macro Cosmos and Chairman of the Galarian Pokemon League – so having two more kids should be no sweat, right?
Boy, was Ash wrong. Even with Leon taking over the Macro Cosmos duties, Ash still had his hands full. His young daughter, Ophelia, could try the patience of a saint; just his luck that Ophelia decided to use her nascent shapeshifter powers for mischief!
“Dad, help me!” Ash’s young son, Felix, jumped behind the love seat. “Tell Ophelia to leave me alone!”
I’m 43 years old, for crying out loud… Ash barely managed to stifle a whine. Cut this old man a break.
Before Ash could return the recliner, he heard a high-pitched “Mew!” come from the kitchen, followed by a Psychic blast that ricocheted off the wall.
“Gen… gar…” Ophelia emerged out of the wall, reverting forms.
“S-Sooobble!” Felix cried, turning invisible himself and running off to Arceus knew where.
Ash turned to the direction of the kitchen and couldn’t be more delighted to see a Mew flying out of thence. Goh! Oh, thank the gods!
When Goh had returned to human form, he started to read his daughter the Riot Act. “Ophelia Sophia Ketchum! You’ve done in this time, young lady!”
“Aww, come on! I can’t have fun every now and then?” Ophelia pouted.
“Not like this!” Ash crossed his arms. “Did you know we receive a call every single week from your school? ‘Your daughter scared the kindergartners so hard that they peed their pants!’ ‘Your daughter scrawled naughty images on the whiteboard when her classmates were at recess!’ You can do great things if you would just stop already!”
“But being naughty is so much more fun.” Ophelia twirled her pinky finger in her ear, displaying her disinterest in her father’s lecture.
“It’s not gonna get you anywhere, except in hot water!” Goh tried to remain calm.
“I wholeheartedly agree,” spoke a voice from behind Ophelia.
“O-OWW!” Ophelia suddenly felt a pinch on her ear. “Let go!”
“Oh!” Goh smiled when he saw his best friend. “Chloe, hi!”
“When did Ms. Cerise get here?” Ophelia didn’t move a muscle.
“That doesn’t matter.”
Goh cleared his throat, then instructed his Pokemon, “Cinderace, Inteleon, and Rillaboom. Escort this young lady to her room and see to it that she stays grounded for the rest of the day; no video games at all. Raichu, she’s only going to be eating plain food – none of her favourites.”
“Nooo!” Ophelia cried like a banshee on her entire walk back to her room.
It was right then that Ash could really breathe a sigh of relief, sitting on the love seat once again. “Phew… Goh, Chloe, thank you. I love Ophelia to pieces, and I want what’s best for her, but she’s not exactly making things easy.”
Sensing his husband’s distress, Goh sat next to Ash and gently took hold of his hands. “Remember this, Ash… Just like with Inteleon and Cinderace in their younger years, this is just a phase. Wait until Ophelia gets older, then it’s going to be just like you say – she’s gonna do great things.”
“You think so?”
“As her teacher, I second that notion,” Chloe spoke up. “She gets pretty good grades and is willing to learn if I stay on top of things.”
“You guys…” Ash cried a little. “Ophelia is lucky to have such a great mother and teacher.”
“Agreed.” A man of 21 years presented himself.
“Gavin!” Ash jumped up to give his older son a hug. Gavin looked just like his father and even dressed like him, right down to Ash’s old baseball cap. “I didn’t know you’d be coming here too! How have you been?”
“G-Good, I guess…” Gavin fidgeted, even after he sat down. He was especially protective of the handbag he brought with him. “I happened to see Chloe at the Poke Mart, and after hearing that she was planning to visit you guys, I had to come along.”
“Oh?” Goh got curious, taking a seat by Gavin’s side and rubbing his shoulders. “Any special reason why?”
“Well… I just have a question…”
“Gavin, it’s okay, honey,” Goh reassured, letting Gavin drink from his glass of tea. “You can ask us anything. There’s no such thing as stupid questions in the Ketchum household.”
“What about that time I asked if I could eat all of the curry at Chloe’s party?” Ash snorted. “You sure looked at me like it was a stupid question.”
“Can it,” Goh snorted back. “You showed a lack of common courtesy, that’s what.”
“Guys, you’re sure not helping Gavin feel any better,” Chloe scolded, taking note of how Gavin tilted his cap over his forehead.
“Oh. Sorry.” Ash sat on the opposite side of Gavin. “So what did you want to ask us?”
Gavin took a few looks around, making sure that his younger siblings weren’t within earshot. “Okay… Papa, how did you get pregnant with me?”
“Pfffffft!” Goh spat his tea everywhere. “I beg your pardon?”
“Dear Arceus…” Gavin sunk into his seat as he blushed harder. “I knew it was a stupid question…”
“It’s not, I promise.” Goh regained his composure. “I was just shocked, that’s all.”
“Is this a question you really want to be asking your parents?” Ash blinked.
“Y-Yeah.”
Ash took a deep breath, hoping that he could avoid any overly specific details. “If you say so. In that case, it all started 22 years ago…”
_______
“Okay, okay, you’ve had enough already!” After seeing Ash drink beer after beer, Chloe decided she was tired of watching his drunken stupor. She had won the lottery and, being the caring friend she was, she decided to spend some of it on a birthday cruise for Goh on the S.S. Anne. Her friends’ antics were making her regret that decision.
“Whattya mean, ‘I’ve had enough?’ I could go for another!” Ash reached out for a mug of beer that Gary was quick to snatch away. “Hey, give it back!”
“Sorry, no can do.” Gary wasn’t much of a drinker, but anything to keep his rival from getting any worse. “Now go back to your rooms.”
“As the only non-drinker here, I’ll see to that. Excuse us.” Chloe pointed to Ash. “Dawn, would you mind taking that drunk oaf over there?”
“You got it.” Surprisingly, Dawn could hold her alcohol exceptionally well.
“Blub blub… Magikarp…” Goh babbled as Chloe opened the door to his and Ash’s room. It only took two beers to get him drunk.
“Ugh…” Chloe nearly gagged at Goh’s smell – a putrid mix of body odour and alcohol. “Just don’t throw up anywhere other than the bathroom. I’d rather not pay the cleanup fees.”
“You got it, Captain!” Goh giggled when Chloe placed him in the bed, alongside Ash.
Dawn let Chloe leave before her. “Ash, let us know if you need anything, okay?”
“Cooool beans, man!” Ash howled.
“Ehehe… Good night, then.” With that, Dawn was gone.
Ash fell asleep next to his boyfriend with a smile on his face, not minding the smell one bit, being too drunk himself to notice it. He couldn’t wait to wake up the next day, which he had off, and thus he had ample time to sleep off his hangover with Goh.
Except that Ash wouldn’t wake up the next day – no, he would wake up a mere hour later to a slight headache and a strong urge to run to the loo. “Damn… Heeey, Goh, can you take my pee and go for me?”
Goh simply snored loudly in response.
“I guess that’s a no? Sigh…” Ash faceplanted the second he stepped out of bed. “Fuck, that hurt…”
Ash’s head swam, and he had to hold onto the walls to walk properly. With all the noise he made going to and from the loo, he was certain Goh would wake up – but to his fortune, he didn’t. “Hehehe… Out like a light.” Ash chuckled as he undressed, frowning when he noticed that Goh was still in his dirty street clothes. “…You’re not gonna sleep in that, are you? That can’t be good for you. Here, I got ya, man…” He only had pure intentions as he slowly removed Goh’s clothes, but with every article of clothing Ash removed, those pure intentions would be tested.
“Yes… Oh, yes, Ash!” Goh moaned while still asleep.
“Goh… Could… you be…” Ash hastily went back to Goh’s clothes, tossing them aimlessly about the room, saving the underwear for last. He nearly froze at the sight of Goh’s erection and already began to get hard himself. “Oh… Sweet Arceus, what do I do?” Ash yelled instinctively. He wanted to have sex with Goh, but not against his will!
Before Ash could go back to bed to sleep off his erection, Goh complained, “Ugh… Thanks a lot.”
“G-Goh?” Ash wobbled, faceplanting in the bedsheets before he could face his boyfriend properly. “You’re awake?”
“I wish I wasn’t.” Goh rubbed his eyes, but his vision was still somewhat blurred. “Hic! I was having one hell of a dream until you fucking woke me up!”
“Are… you okay?” Ash couldn’t believe that his normally meek boyfriend would cuss twice in a single sentence.
“I don’t know, are you?” Goh sat up and smirked when he noticed Ash’s hard cock. “Naw, it doesn’t look like you are! I can fix that, though!”
“H-Hey!” Ash flinched when, without warning or self-restraint, Goh started going down on him. “Take it easy!”
Goh abruptly stopped and sat up in a huff. “What, you don’t want me to?”
“I mean… I do, I really do… But are you sure?” Ash brushed Goh’s long hair out of his face.
“As sure as the day is long, brah.” Goh felt around for Ash’s right hand, finding it with one hard slap, then using it to jerk off. “You can have me aaaaaaall night.”
“Ahhhh…” And just like that, Ash’s self-control came undone. With his hand still wrapped around Goh’s erection, he drew Goh in for a sloppy wet kiss. Ash didn’t even notice Goh’s fingers enter him – that was, until they hit his sweet spot, and hard. “Gooooh…”
“Ya see, Ash?” Goh spoke between shallow breaths. “That’s what I want you to do to me.”
“Oh, I get the picture, all right.” Ash licked his fingers before creeping them into Goh, giving him a good stretch before Goh drew his face in closely.
“I want to do all kinds of things…” Goh spoke in a raspy whisper, “Like sitting on your face, for instance. I want to be stretched out and wet.”
In all the years he had been with Goh, Ash had never heard such a bold request. “You got it, love… Just thinking about it makes me feel hotter.”
“Then how about actually doing it?” Goh pinned Ash down with the strength of his ass alone.
Ash didn’t say a word, responding instead with a couple of kisses to Goh’s ass cheeks.
“You better get in there, you hear?” Goh shimmied his ass, and would have cried out in pleasure, had he not decided to suck Ash off at the same time.
“Mmf…” Ash went completely stiff.
“Don’t mind me, love.” Goh gave a shaky laugh. “Please, continue with what you were doing.”
I’ll wipe that smirk off your face. Ash circled around Goh’s hole for a spell before plunging his tongue in, squeezing each ass cheek to spread him wide.
“Haaa!”
Ash could sense a hint of restraint in that whine – a restrained that he truly wanted to break. After licking Goh’s ass one final time, Ash spoke, “Good enough for you?”
“Yeah, now make love to me, Champion – even better than you did in my dream.”
“Heh, easy.” Ash slapped Goh’s ass before teasing it with his cock.
“Give it… Give it to me!” Goh slammed his ass down, uttering a moan when Ash’s huge cock was buried in him to the hilt.
“You’re gonna moan louder, I’ll make sure of it.” Ash nuzzled his face into Goh’s neckline, loving the long black hair that tickled his forehead.
“Prove it… Oh…”
Ash knew that Goh was close to losing control and knew just the thing to completely undo it. While sucking softly on Goh’s neck, Ash pumped his boyfriend’s cock with gusto. The lewd sounds Goh made brought a smirk to Ash’s face. “Perfect…” Ash growled. “I’ve never heard you this loud.”
“Ash…” Goh wrapped his arms around Ash’s back, digging his fingers deeper the faster Ash went. He stayed still for a moment, loving the sound and sensation of Ash’s balls smacking his ass.
“You’re about to come, aren’t you?” Ash breathed into Goh’s ear.
“Mmm!” Goh replied with a weak nod.
“Me too…” With his nose touching Goh’s, Ash looked at him straight in the eye. “I want to see your beautiful face while we both…”
“Yes!” Goh came, not letting Ash finish that sentence.
It was that wonderful sight that spurred Ash as he emptied himself into Goh. He let out only a few shallow breaths as he let the aftershocks course through him. “Goh… Goh.”
“Ash? You know what?” Goh’s demeanour changed slightly after Ash had pulled out.
“What is it?” At first, Ash worried that he had done something wrong.
“You’re my best friend…” Goh held Ash’s head to his chest and stroked his hair. “I love you.”
“And you’re adorable as hell, you know that?”
“Yeah, I knew that!”
I could get used to doing this every night. Ash lost himself in the sound of Goh’s fast heartbeat; as it slowed down, he started to drift off, not giving a flying fuck about the inevitable morning hangover.
_____
“Surprising.” Goh raised an eyebrow, amazed at Ash’s show of restraint. “So, was there a special reason why you asked how you were conceived?”
“Mm…” Gavin pursed his lips together. Ever since he arrived, he had been hiding a bout of nausea, but now, he couldn’t hold back. “Excuse me, I gotta run to the bathroom!”
“I hope he doesn’t have diarrhea or anything…” Goh gasped when, a mere thirty seconds later, he could hear loud crying coming from the loo.
Ash couldn’t hold back his concern for very long and led Goh to the loo. “Let’s go check on him!”
Goh looked at his Rotom Phone. “He’s been in there for fifteen minutes…”
Ash knocked on the door to the loo. “Gavin? How are you-”
Gavin would interrupt that question with a horrified scream. “AAAAAAAAAH!”
“Gavin!” Goh panicked as he barged the unlocked door open. “What’s the matter?”
“P-Papa… Dad… ” Gavin shook as he held something, which at first he was reluctant to reveal. “Look…”
“Hmm?” Ash couldn’t believe what his son presented to him – two positive pregnancy tests.
“I’m sorry!” Gavin hit the panic button before his parents could give their input. “I’m crazy in love with Dragan, but… I never thought I could get… l-like… this.”
“Hey, hey, hey!” Ash grasped Gavin’s shoulders firmly. “Slow down. Why in the name of Arceus are you sorry? You don’t need to be!”
“Because I don’t know how to be a mom, that’s why!” Gavin could barely speak between sobs. “I want to give my child the best life possible… But what if I fail? I… I need help! I-”
“There, there.” Ash rubbed his son’s back until he stopped crying. “You know, I thought the exact same thing when your mom was pregnant with you. I grew up without knowing my father and felt lost without that role model.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. But you know what your mom told me? ‘You’re just going to have to learn how to be a father!’ Don’t forget that you’ve got a great support system. And you’re doing a great job as a parent already, wanting what’s best for your child.”
“Th-Thanks.” Gavin chuckled and looked to Goh. “Sorry for turning you guys into grandparents so soon.”
“I thought your father told you that you don’t need to be sorry!” Goh pinched Gavin’s cheek. “Now, come. I don’t think you want to be camping out in the bathroom all day.”
“Hehehe, you’re right!” Gavin let Ash and Goh help him off the floor. The second he exited the loo, he felt his resolve renewed. “Say, I’ve got the best idea to tell Dragan the news.”
“You… You do?” Ash blinked.
“I’m going to challenge Dragan again, and when I finally beat him, I’ll say, ‘Hah! I gave you a good ass-whooping while pregnant!’ Ooooh, I can’t wait to see the look on his face!” Gavin donned his handbag and haphazardly tied his shoes.
“Leaving so soon?” Goh frowned.
“I’m going to go train in the Wild Area! The next time I face Champion Dragan, I have to beat him! Dad, I swear this time I’ll reclaim the championship for the Ketchum family!”
“I believe in you!” Ash fist-bumped his son.
“But wait! You can’t kick some ass without this!” Goh stopped Gavin at the door, handing him a small canister.
Gavin took a whiff of the contents, knowing what was inside. “It’s the tea that every pregnant person in Galar loves…” He teared up before bringing in his parents for a group hug. “I’ve got the greatest parents ever! I love you guys so, so much!”
“We love you too, sweetie.” Goh ruffled Gavin’s hair. “Now, go for it!”
“You got it!”
“Hehe.” Ash drew Goh in for a side hug. “Our son is just like me when I was young… I can hardly believe that he’s about to have a kid of his own. It seems like only yesterday that you gave birth to him and Ashalina in Hammerlocke.”
Goh ran his fingers over Ash’s wedding ring. “It’s been 33 years since our fateful ride on that Lugia… Time flies when you’re spending it with the one you love.”
“Yes, it does.” Ash held Goh even more tightly. “I don’t know exactly how the rest of my life is going to go, but I do know this – it’s going to be at your side, until the day I die.”
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Hi! I hope I’m not bothering you but I was wondering if you’ve written Wanda’s first reaction to Vision’s human shimmer before?
hi! you'd never be bothering me! sorry this took a bit for me to get around to - my response ended up being a lot more long winded than I meant! thank you for reaching out with this, at the time I hadn't written anything like that but now I have ~ hope you enjoy 🥰
my inbox is open for anything and everything scarletvision
I just see you
synopsis: Vision hasn't seen Wanda in nearly a year, not since they both decided the danger was too great and they needed to go their separate ways. But he's still her emergency contact, so when Wanda ends up in hospital, Vision is the first to hear. Frantic, he travels to France, desperate to see her safe and harbouring hope that they might yet reconcile.
words: 4,140
read on AO3 here
There was a ringing coming from Vision’s bedroom.
It took a few shrill rings for him to realise that the noise wasn’t coming from inside his own head. Vision had been so wrapped up in his research that he hadn’t resurfaced for hours. It was a jarring thing to do all at once, to leave the carefully regulated interior of his mind and appear back in the physical world once more.
The ringing continued and Vision glanced around, his eyes adjusting quickly. Morning had quickly turned to evening and the pale walls of his room were lit up amber by the sunset.
The source of the sound was quickly discovered in the depths of his wardrobe, hidden within a pocket of a jacket he rarely wore. Vision fished the small flip phone out, anxiously. It had been a gift and the only person who knew its number hadn’t spoken to him in months.
Recalling that telephones only rang for a set time Vision hurriedly answered, lest it run through to the voicemail he’d never had cause to set up.
“Hello?” He said hesitantly, straining his ears to hear the person on the other line. The environment behind sounded busy, he could hear many voices piling on top of one another in chorus.
“Monsieur Maximoff?” The voice on the other side of the phone sounded stern, but unfamiliar. She was also speaking French. Vision did not know anyone who spoke French.
“I’m sorry, who am I speaking to?” Vision asked, fumbling for what to say and desperately grasping at the internet for a French translator. Mr Maximoff? He thought, who on earth was he talking to and how had they come across his number.
“Ah, Anglais.” The voice sounded more distant, as though she were talking to someone else. She returned, this time speaking in English with a heavy French accent. “Am I speaking to Mr Maximoff?”
Vision wasn’t sure what else he could say. “Yes, yes, you are. I’m so sorry, who is this?”
He was just about to trace the caller’s IMEI but the woman at the other end provided him with all the information he needed.
“Bonjour, Mr Maximoff. I am calling from the Toulouse University Hospital,” she said.
“Toulouse,” Vision repeated in astonishment. “Toulouse, France?”
“Yes, Monsieur,” she replied, sounding slightly vexed. “We had a patient brought in earlier tonight and you were listed as her emergency contact. Her condition is stable, but she had a hit to the head. We’ve observed her for a few hours, and she seems fine, but we wanted to advise you of the incident so you might pick her up.”
Vision breath caught in his throat as fear gripped his heart.
“To clarify,” Vision said shakily, “you are speaking of Wanda.”
“Yes.”
“Is she okay?”
He must have sounded rather strangled in his panic for when the woman spoke again her words were measuredly more soothing. “She is perfectly fine, Mr Maximoff. Just a bit shaken up with some light bruising and an abrasion on her forehead. We would like to monitor her overnight and if everything is okay, we can discharge her in the morning. Can you come to the hospital for then?”
“Of course!” Vision said frantically. “I can be there soon.”
She ended the call with a pleasantry in French that he didn’t recognise, but he was already on the move. He thought about leaving the phone behind, but decided it was better to have it near him in case the hospital called again.
Vision’s form blurred as he darted about the room grabbing at bits and pieces, he thought he might need. He wanted to travel light but also didn’t want to be caught unawares. He withdrew the travel bag he kept in his nightstand which contained any identification he needed to appear human. Vision had gotten his driver’s license once he had started making more solo trops and Tony had thought it useful. Vision obviously hadn’t taken the test itself; he was a better driver than any human and a test wasn’t needed to prove that.
He also retrieved his passport and the credit card he seldom needed to use. None of these listed his real identity, mind you. Instead, they displayed his human glamour with his pale skin and a head of sandy blond hair.
There was no way he could travel under his true identity without being clocked by the authorities as operating without the Accords’ instruction. Vision doubted that visiting your ex in hospital counted as noble activities that the United Nations would look favourably upon in the event he was caught. Especially when that ex happened to be an international fugitive.
With his ID secured and slipped safely into the pocket of his jacket, Vision made for the door. He was out of the compound before the building’s AI had the chance to trigger the system and notify Tony that someone had crossed the property line.
Vision had never had cause to test his super speed over such extensive distances. There had always been easier alternatives for travel.
Thankfully, progress went fast. Though it was frustrating having to stop at ever major border or airspace to disappear offline so he couldn’t be identified as a hostile flying object. When he did have secure connection, Vision kept an eye on the news in Toulouse, terrified that Wanda might be discovered. So far, the feed was quiet, and Vision had to rest on the assurance that the woman he had spoken with on the phone had said nothing to indicate she was suspicious of Wanda.
In the end, Vision managed to make it to France in just over two hours, having had to detour over the North Atlantic to avoid some nasty weather. Staying low to the ground and mostly hidden under the cover of night, he risked getting within two miles of the hospital before returning to the ground.
Vision ducked down an alley and took a moment to hide in the shadows. Taking a deep breath, he focused his energy on putting on the shimmer that made him appear human. It slipped into place easily. Straightening his jacket and running a hand through his hair, Vision ensured he looked relatively presentable before heading back out onto the streets of Toulouse.
It was an excruciatingly slow walk, but Vision knew he couldn’t risk drawing attention by walking any quicker than a human. Even in the early hours of the morning, Toulouse still had life to it. There were a few too many watchful eyes than he could be comfortable with. Even knowing that no one on this side of the world had seen his human form, it was still difficult to put the fear to rest.
Vision quickened his pace marginally as he reached the hospital’s entrance, figuring it might seem normal enough to hurry given where he was. In his head he reminded himself over and over that this was normal. He was here because he had received a call about his ‘partner’ who had been hospitalised. Vision felt sick even as he thought it.
Inside the brightly lit ground floor was a round desk with bright green letters hanging above that said la réception.Sitting behind the desk were three nurses. Vision caught the attention of the nearest and smiled politely.
“Bonjour,” Vision said, the language sounding strange in his mouth, “je suis ici pour Ms Maximoff.”
The nurse leant forward to catch Vision’s quiet tone. He was hesitant about using the last name ‘Maximoff’ and wondered why on earth Wanda hadn’t given them a false name.
“Ah,” the nurse’s eyes lit up in recognition and she turned to call over her shoulder, “Louise?”
Another nurse came around to the reception and as she rattled off something in French Vision recognised her as the stern woman who had spoken with him on the phone.
“Mr Maximoff?” She said with a welcoming smile.
“Yes,” Vision said hesitantly, “oui.”
“I though you would come by in the morning—”
Vision opened his mouth to provide reasoning for coming so quickly. He had forgotten how difficult it was, having to lie all the time when he was with Wanda.
“—but I understand you must have been very worried. If you would please follow me.”
Vision shut his mouth tightly, perhaps it was better to say less and let them assume more. The nurse turned away and walked down a long corridor to a set of lifts. She called one down and the doors opened with a chime, before gesturing for Vision to get in. As he stepped in, Vision let his hands brush against the control panel and shuddered slightly as he was absorbed into the hospital’s security system. It felt wrong, but it was better than risking someone having recognised Wanda already. Vision scrubbed through the security, uploaded a match of Wanda’s face and proceeded to edit all visual of her from the camera’s history. The system was too limited to even realise what was happening, let alone retaliate.
“Could you please explain what happened?” Vision asked politely as they reached the fourth floor and the elevator doors opened once more.
“I’m afraid I do not know much more than what I told you over the phone,” Louise said. “She was brought in about seven hours ago with a few other patients from a car accident. A vehicle lost control on the motorway and took out several other cars with it. A bit of a mess I am afraid.”
Lousie caught sight of Vision’s horrified face. “Not that Ms Maximoff was badly hurt,” she said hurriedly, “she is perfectly fine, and we will be able to let her out in the morning.”
Vision breathed out shakily as he was led down a brightly lit corridor. “Thank you.”
“Do not worry,” Louise gave Vision a comforting smile and stopped in front of a nondescript door. “You’re welcome to stay until morning though don’t tell anyone that I let you in out of visitor hours. There is a canteen on the ground floor, but it does not open until 7 I am afraid.”
“That’s alright, it won’t be a problem,” Vision said with a smile, eager to get inside the room and out of view of prying eyes. “Thank you for all your help.”
“D’accord,” Louise said her eyes crinkling in another smile and waving her hand, dismissing his thanks genially.
Vision managed to wait until she had retreated down the corridor before steeling himself and letting his human glamour fall. He did not want to see Wanda as anyone but himself.
As Vision erased himself from the corridor, he took the first step into Wanda’s cramped hospital room. The space smelt sterile, even to him and it was so wholly unwelcoming that Vision’s heart seized at the idea of Wanda spending hours here alone.
It seemed she wasn’t as troubled, instead lying sound asleep in the hospital bed. With the bed propped as it was, Wanda’s face was bathed in the light peeking through the blinds as car headlights flew past. Vision peered at her face intently, surveying the damage.
There was a graze across her forehead and a couple of stitches in her chin, but otherwise no other outwards injuries. There was a clipboard attached to the end of the hospital bed and Vision picked it up quietly to assess the doctor’s notes. It was in French, and shorthand at that, but he managed to decipher the words with the aid of his translator. MTBI. A mild traumatic brain injury, Vision thought. He knew it sounded much worse than it was and was comforted by the doctor’s following notes: no further cognitive symptoms, keep overnight, review in morning before discharge.
So there really was nothing else wrong. It was reassuring and he felt much better now that he was standing before Wanda’s sleeping form, her chest rising and falling steadily.
It was only then that Vision realised precisely how long it had been since he had last seen her. 8 months. Three seasons had passed since she had pushed him out of her life for good and he had let her. Wanda had sworn she didn’t want to see him again, and Vision had let it happen. He’d regretted the argument ever since it had happened
Now here he was, her unassuming emergency contact after a car accident. What if it had been something more final, what if that call had been made to deliver more devastating news, what would he have done?
Vision didn’t waste time pursuing such guilty thoughts further, instead going to Wanda’s side and sitting in the chair beside the bed. As he reached out for her hand, laying still atop the scratchy hospital blanket, he knew it was where he was supposed to be. As he took her hand her fingers twitched, registering the contact.
When Vision looked up, Wanda’s eyes were open, if slightly bleary. She blinked slowly in the darkness.
“Vis?” She whispered, her voice thick with sleep and exhaustion.
“Yes,” Vision replied, desperately wishing he could reach out and take her into his arms but knowing it was not his place to do so. Not unless she invited him to.
“It feels like you,” Wanda smiled and closed her eyes again, squeezing his hand. “I wish you were here.”
Vision frowned and wrapped both hands around hers. “I am here.”
Wanda stilled and Vision felt his hands grow warm and the familiar feeling of Wanda’s power. Perhaps just confirming it was him, or maybe it was a more involuntary reaction.
She sat up abruptly. “You shouldn’t be here!” The movement had apparently been too quick for her as Wanda winced and raised a hand to her forehead in pain. Vision jumped to his feet once more and helped her lie back down on her pillows.
“How did you get here?” Wanda asked, now wide awake and staring up at him.
“They called me,” Vision said slowly, trying his best not to distress her further. He thought about moving away from the bed to give her space, but she had grabbed a hold of his wrist and didn’t seem keen on releasing it. After so long without hearing her voice, Vision was content to stay as close as she would allow.
“The accident, was it bad?” He asked.
“Honestly,” Wanda said slowly, “I don’t really remember. It happened so quickly, nothing like a real fight. Just a flash of metal and I was lying on the curb. It barely touched me, but the paramedics insisted I come to the hospital.”
“As they should,” Vision said, unable to keep the distress from his voice. “What if something worse had happened? You really never know with head injuries…”
“Well, I feel fine now,” Wanda said relaxing somewhat amongst the cushions. “Did they tell you when I can leave?”
“In the morning,” Vision replied, “as long as the doctor checks you one last time before you leave.”
Wanda didn’t seem happy at the prospect of having to stay any longer than necessary but at least she didn’t push him to break her out of the hospital.
“I didn’t realise I was still your emergency contact,” Vision said quietly, looking intently at the mattress.
Wanda sighed quietly. “If you’re asking if there’s anyone else, there’s not.”
Vision stiffened. “I wasn’t prying.”
A few moments of silence passed by. “That doesn’t explain why I was listed as Vision Maximoff in your contacts.”
Wanda groaned and finally released his wrist, using her hand to instead cover her face in embarrassment. She sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling. “Let’s just say I was young, hopeful and in love.”
“That wasn’t that long ago,” Vision smiled, half-heartedly trying to joke past the growing discomfort in his chest. He hated that she used the past tense when talking about them.
“Yeah,” Wanda shrugged, “well a lot has changed. Being a fugitive changes things.”
Vision nodded, though he knew he’d never really understand what the last year had been for Wanda. “I hope it does not change everything.” He spoke slowly, afraid of saying something that might make her ask him to leave. “My feelings have not changed.”
Wanda bit her lip but seemed to be fighting off something like a smile. “Mine haven’t either.”
Hearing this made Vision breathe easily for what felt like the first time in months. Despite the circumstances, he was here beside her. Wanda was safe, light bruising aside, and through it all she somehow still loved him.
“I know things will always be complicated, but I hope you’ll think about letting me back into your life again,” Vision said softly, taking Wanda’s hand in his again. “It does not matter in what way or form, as long as I can be near you.”
“I’d like that,” Wanda said, her words barely above a whisper. Her chest shuddered as she yawned, wincing again as she shifted her head.
“You should rest. We can talk in the morning.”
Wanda nodded and let her eyes flutter close.
Vision stayed up for the last few hours of the night, a loyal shadow at Wanda’s side. All the while he counted down the minutes until they could leave and he could see Wanda safely to her house, wherever it was she was staying in Toulouse. It concerned him that Steve and the others probably hadn’t heard about Wanda’s accident, and he hoped they weren’t losing their minds with worry. There was another part of him that thought Wanda might be alone in France, she had always preferred staying in Europe when her small band of fugitives went their separate ways. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.
It was foolish for Vision to hope, but he was starting to think the best way for this day to end was with him in Wanda’s bed. Of course, logically he knew they weren’t there yet. Even Wanda’s admission the night before to allow him back in her life felt like enough. But it was difficult to curb 8 months of longing.
As the clock ticked past 6am and the sky began to lighten behind the blinds Vision waited patiently, not wanting to disturb the rest Wanda so clearly needed. She had never been a quiet sleeper, always tossing and turning and mumbling in dreams. Vision was well accustomed with her habits, so it was unnerving to observe her stillness. But her breathing remained steady through until dawn. The only time Wanda had shifted was to roll onto her side, pulling their hands, which had found each other in the night, closer towards her.
Wanda finally woke around 7 and Vision busied himself by pretending to peer out the blinds and observe the street below.
“How are you feeling?” He asked over his shoulder, hearing the sheets rustle as Wanda sat up.
“Better now,” she mumbled. “But ready to get out of this place, I’d rather not risk it with the authorities in France again.”
Vision hated the way that Wanda said again. What had really happened in the months he hadn’t heard from her?
“No need to worry, I’ve removed you from security camera footage and before we leave, I’ll scrub us from the system again.”
Wanda rubbed at her eyes as she slipped out of the hospital bed. “Give me a chance to splash my face and change and we can get going.”
“No rush,” Vision murmured but it felt untrue. There was a rush. Even if he did remove them from the records there was no saying that a member of staff wouldn’t eventually recognise the name Maximoff and tell the authorities. Yes, the sooner they were out of the hospital, the better.
While Wanda was freshening up, Vision gathered her meagre belongings. Her necklaces, rings and phone had been left in a plastic tray on the bedside table. With everything safely in his pockets Vision slipped back into the hospital’s security system. From what he could tell, no alerts had been tripped but then again he didn’t know if the hospital had a specific code for ‘there’s an international fugitive on premises call the police’. Vision knew the hospital was nearly at capacity based on the records he had looked at, so the chances that their faces would stick out of everyone felt unlikely.
Nevertheless, it was better safe than sorry and there was no way they wouldn’t draw attention with him looking as he was. Once again, Vision closed his eyes and visualised his human shimmer, shivering as it fell into place. His skin tickled as his hair fell onto his forehead and Vision reached up to run a hand through it, a mannerism he had never had reason to practice but had seen others perform.
The bathroom door creaked as Wanda closed it behind her. It was a relief to see her out of the hospital gown and in something more Wanda.
“Vis how are you going to—” As she turned and caught sight of him, Wanda’s voice caught in her throat. She brought both hands to her mouth in astonishment.
Vision suddenly grew shy. Of course, Wanda had never seen him like this, of course it would be a shock. Did she even recognise him?
“It’s still me,” Vision said hurriedly, whether for her sake or his he couldn’t be sure. He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck as Wanda’s eyes continued to search his face in disbelief.
“I know,” she finally said, approaching him slowly. “I can tell it’s you.”
Just as she reached him the door to the hospital room slid open and a young woman entered.
“Bonjour,” Vision said hurriedly, taking a few steps back from Wanda and turning his attention to the doctor. Wanda’s eyes remained on Vision right up until the doctor approached her and asked her to do a few simply exercises. When she was sure that motor function was normal, they were told they were free to leave and to go down to the reception to begin the process of checking out. The doctor made Wanda promise to return to the hospital if she began experiencing anything like memory loss or migraines.
With the doctor gone once more, Wanda spun on Vision, getting far closer to him than she had yet. She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, frowning.
“This is new.”
Vision nodded against her hand, relishing this one touch that he had spent months dreaming about. “I started working on this as soon as I left…”
He didn’t need to explain more and saw Wanda’s gaze grow shadowed as she presumably recalled their fight. It had been about their safety around each other, it always was. Wanda had been angry about Vision being put at risk around her, and he had been annoyed about the same thing for her. It had been so difficult to hide and meet up every few weeks back then, especially when Vision was so recognisable, and Wanda was being broadcasted around the globe. When Wanda had finally insisted on breaking things off, Vision had agreed. He’d returned to the compound and spent a week perfecting his new human mirage. It was all in the hopes that when she next called him things would be easier. But she hadn’t called.
“Do you have a—” Vision swallowed nervously, “—a preference?”
Wanda tilted her head curiously, “I don’t mind this new glamour, either way it’s you. But I prefer the you you.”
Vision tried to hide his relief as he raised his hand to Wanda’s which was still pressed to his cheek. Her thumb was running curiously circles over his skin. Carefully, cautiously, he took her hand and pressed his mouth to the back of her knuckles. The gesture’s effect was immediate, and Wanda closed her eyes.
“I miss being close to you,” she whispered, as they gravitated closer together. “I could imagine you; I could see you were safe on the news but nothings the same as having you here under my hands.”
Well, she’d had one more assurance than him at least.
It didn’t take much for Vision to pull her closer, hooking an arm around her waist and letting his human glamour fall. She sunk into his embrace, as he had imagined her doing for months and Vision wrapped his arms securely around her.
“Please don’t ask me to leave,” he said, strained.
“Alright,” Wanda said, her voice muffled as she pressed her head into the crook of his neck.
She drew back and took his face in her hands and kissed him. Vision’s legs nearly gave out from underneath him as her mouth moved softly against his own, something he hadn’t let himself dream of doing ever again.
Wanda smiled against his mouth. “We’re sticking together from now on.”
#scarletvision#wandavision#wanda x vision#wanda maximoff#the vision#wandavision fanfic#scarletvision fanfiction#asks#visionsofusfics
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Torn Families, a RWBY story
Hello there! it has been a few days now and the story is ready, so here it is!
Just a warning first though, this story does feature gore, character deaths and angst.
Everyone had their reasons for attending Beacon academy, and most would tell you without so much as a second thought.
“As a girl, I wanted to be just like those heroes in the story books... Someone who fought for what was right, and protected people who couldn't protect themselves!” Ruby Rose, 15yr old combat prodigy and leader of team RWBY.
Others, however, aren’t as comfortable in disclosing the truth about their circumstances, like: The beautiful, yet closed off Blake Belladonna, Faunus in hiding and secret Ex-White Fang agent.
“The White Fang is hardly a bunch of psychopaths. They're a collection of misguided Faunus.”
Most would assume that this is where the list ends, but there is another. A third option, or category, where they’ve been truthful but they just haven’t shared the full truth.
This is where the scraggly hero of our fable is found.
When asked for the reasons behind which Jaune Arc has strived to be a Hunter and train in Beacon (which is a regular occurrence among the student body, it’s pretty obvious why), our bumbling blonde will reply with something along the lines of “To become a hero” …. “To become a great Hunter, like the warriors in my family” or “To help people” which is true….
But…there’s more to it, there always is.
Rarely does someone ever question the reason he chose this path or after any event that led to such a decision, but it does happen occasionally. Some of the first conversations with his friends and even Ms. Goodwitch herself raised the question, with Jaune himself being quick to dismiss it or just repeat himself. Forcing the subject to be left alone question, with, replacing the young Arcs would-be interrogators interests with dissatisfaction and a quick change of topic. This is where the truth remains hidden, a burden laid heavily on our young Knight’s shoulders, where he intends to keep them.
But that wouldn’t make an interesting story, so here we go!
This tale sheds light upon that which our very own Jaune Arc would keep hidden, partially for the sake of his friends, but also to keep Jaune from crying himself to sleep… again…
Long before Jaune was launched from the school’s cliff faces into the emerald forests or the acquisition of his “Vomit Boy” moniker, as courtesy of Yang, the Arc found a burning resolve to fight the creatures of Grimm and protect those who could not protect themselves that rivalled the very star he stood under.
The Arc family estate was a large, dark brick house held deep within a forest, found on an island located beyond the western coast of Sanus. Close enough to still be considered a part of the kingdom, but also far enough for people to be left in relative peace from large city environments, bandits and any extremely dangerous Grimm.
Here, the Arc family lived and prospered, laughed and loved for days and years on end, with the only real worries being the evil bath times and dreaded bedtimes, family’s patriarch receiving minor wounds from guarding the small island village (But everyone just said he looked cooler anyway, so it’s a win!) or the sisters engaging into yet another fight over something that seemed to shake the very foundations of reality to them at the time.
“That’s MY hairbrush!!”
“You have, like, 10, just let me borrow this one!”
The house was run by the matriarch and the eldest of the sisters when their father was away, keeping Grimm from presenting danger to the village where they lived. The younger sisters and Jaune often played their days away, when their mother wasn’t home schooling them in the study where she spent most of her time, even outside the education of her children.
One sunny, beautiful day, with the sun was streaming through the leaves and trees and bringing light and life to all the woodland, waking to every insect, animal and plant found within, this family would be shattered.
The green glow of the forest created a feeling similar to a protective aura of warmth and protection. Here, the four youngest Arcs find themselves running past all manner of compassionate and cool streams with looming, yet comforting trees, hiding amidst the natural playground formed by the rocks of landslides long past and prickly piles of twigs that once held strong to their larger companions. The day was not unlike any other the children had been allowed to previously play in, perfect.
The juvenile Arcs were playing their usual rounds of “Hide and Seek” or “Tag” or some of their own invention, when the eldest of the assembled four found an oddity, one which had never caught her attention before. The Arc estate held no boundaries, save the forest itself as it was separated by a long stripe of a field before another forest began, not five meters away from their own, yet the children had never travelled, nor noticed this odd circular emptiness beyond their own patch of trees. “Yeah, that is weird” The three younger members of the Arc clan agreed, “Let’s try playing in that other forest! I bet there’ll be even better hiding spots and even bigger trees to play in!”
And so, they did just that.
Back at the Arc family homestead
The eldest four daughters of the house were treated to a rather large shock while preparing lunch as their mother had, seemingly from no-where, screeched “NOO!” like a banshee might and flung herself out of her chair, falling to their kitchen floor. You see, Jaune’s mother was paralysed, on the account that after her thighs reached halfway down, they were missing, an incident that predated Jaune’s memory and of which she refused to speak, hoping she never had to tell her children and shatter their innocence. And though it placed her within a wheel chair that stopped her from performing the tasks that the oldest of the Arc spawn find themselves occupied with most days, her smile was as radiant and genuine as when her first child was born, finding real purpose in her role as a mother.
Each did their best to help their fallen mother, only to be thrown aside, much harder than they even knew their mother could push. “One of you, run to the village wall as fast as you can, find your father, tell him that Jaune and the triplets have left the stave!”
“Why?” “What does that mean?” “Huh?” Each questioned, their faces twisted with confusion and fear.
“Just GO! Right now! We don’t have time!” The oldest among the females of the home all but roared at her children, her terror evident on her face, scaring the 4 younger women. Pushing her fear aside, the eldest to ran out the door and sprinted down the trail into the town, where the guard and her father stood vigilantly, while her younger two sisters helped their mother back into her chair and checked to see what had happened.
“Mom, what’s happening?” “You scared us” “Why’d you tell Saph to get dad?”
“I’m fine, but your siblings are in danger…”
“How? We thought they were playing outside” “Yeah, they play in the forest every day! Why’s it so dangerous all of a sudden?”
“Hmmmmm…. The forest that surrounds the house is… special, you’ve seen how there’s something of a circle-like-field around the house cutting us of from the rest of the woods?” She questioned, obviously impatient and uncomfortable, much to the dismay of her daughters, never before seeing her so scared in their lives.
“Yeah” “uh-huh” They replied in kind.
“Well, your mother has a special power and can sense, and almost see, what happens in this circle, if you can imagine” Chuckling the last part, the nerves still very present in her voice. “Normally, your siblings always play in this circle, where it’s safe and where I can see them, but, because we live so far from town the woods next to ours can be filled with scary, dangerous creatures. I don’t know why, but, the triplets and Jaune have wandered into that forest and your father needs to find them, before something bad can happen.” looking away through the kitchen window, into the picturesque scene of the serene forest outside.
Meanwhile, Jaune and his elder sisters were playing a renewed game of tag in their new playground, their eldest sister rushing for her father, while the three under her found comfort in their mother, as a new found fear grew for their youngest sibling’s lives. This new version of tag involved a “Strength in Numbers” strategy, where the title of tag didn’t pass on to another player after contact, but spread so that the match only ended when everyone was ‘it’, basically creating two teams of ever-growing chasers and continually dwindling chase-ies.
Jaune, despite taking part and enjoying himself immensely in the game, found himself growing rather nervous, as he could have sworn, he had heard his mother mention not to go into the forest beyond their own at some point before, but none of his sisters could remember and said he just imagined it. Which inevitably led to them teasing him and saying he was a “Scaredy cat!” which, to a seven-year-old boy, was an offence of the highest order. So, with new resolve and determination, Jaune played with his sisters in the forest, running deeper and deeper into the unknown woods, finding a new and magical parts of the surrounding nature with each new game.
Nothing, it seemed, could go wrong for out four young Arcs, however, we all know what follows these kinds of observations.
The fight had started as nothing more than a simple debate. “I SO DID tag you!”
“Nu-uh! You only got my dress!”
“Did not! I tapped your shoulder! You’re it too now!” “Nu-uh” “So, too!”
This repeated for a few minutes, the two eldest of the triplets bickered back and forth until…
“Jaune!” Both shouted in unison, the fire in their eyes and voices startling the poor boy “Y-yeah?” His anxiety growing, as each girl looked ready to throttle one another all the way home.
“I totally got her, right!?” “No, she sooo missed me, you saw right!?”
“Uhhh…” Was his only response. Truth be told, Jaune hadn’t seen the incident in question, he was too busy trying not to get caught himself, he only came up to them when he saw they were fighting again, wanting to help.
“C’mon! I’m fine, right!?” “No, I definitely caught her!”
Jaune was not comfortable in this situation. In fact, he was scared, scared that his sisters were fighting and felt useless that he couldn’t do anything about it. This is until an idea came across his mind.
“What about Rock, Paper, Scisso-!” “AAAGGGHHH!!!” The high, piercing wail that blocked Jaune’s solution had come as a shock to everyone. They were all frozen in place, the fear and pain that filled that scream had turned them all to stone. And a sudden realization donned upon Jaune, one that only seemed to strengthen the anxiety currently lacing his blood.
“W-w-wait, th-there’s only three of u-us here…” Upon a quick count, they found that they were, indeed, one sibling short. “The scream must have come from her! We have to find her, she’s in trouble!”
“Maybe she just found a big spider! She’s terrified of them!” The oldest of the group stated, a fact which was well known within the Arc household.
“We just have to find her and get her away from wherever she found it!” The younger of the girls offered. This conclusion helped each of them relax, as spiders were the most dangerous of the creatures that they knew to inhabit the forests that surround their home. It brought them comfort, but they weren’t in their woodlands anymore.
They moved quickly towards the origin of their sister’s scream, until they unfortunately found her.
In a small secluded area of the forest, a clearing in the trees where the river widened considerably and was surrounded by large stones that easily dwarf the giant that was their father (as far as they were concerned), where the sun seemed to shine atop the water so bright that you could swear it was fragmented like the moon and resided in the river itself. This was where they found her.
However, the beauty of nature wasn’t what made them stop, nor was it the sight of their sister happily frolicking in the water after overcoming her original fear and relief flooding the trio of loving family members. No, it was the exact opposite to all those beautiful and much more preferable sights (Hell, they’d prefer to have found a spider, really).
What stood in the clearing, over their sister, was a monster.
A monster so dark, it made the moonless night sky seem bright. With markings so red, the blood that splattered its maw seemed pale by comparison. All of this packed onto a fur-skinned nightmare product between man and wolf. And their sister… stuck underneath.
No, stuck wasn’t the right word.
The creature didn’t hold her down, it didn’t need too, the girl below it simply couldn’t move. She was missing large chunks of her little body. They could see her shoe on the other side of the clearing, her foot still occupying it. A few feet from her there was some bloody assortment of meat, maybe something from inside, no-one could tell. Her neck had also seemed to disappear and had replaced itself with bloody chunks of something.
Each child, each one that still had a beating heart, remained completely still. No movement, no thought and no emotion, still enough were to make a statue jealous. The shock they felt was all they could feel, their brains refusing to process the sight before them. The first to break free of the paralysing chains holding his mind was Jaune, still looking into the large, half lidded and dull eyes of his older sister. The eyes that had once been so full of colour and everything right with the world, Jaune had found comfort and happiness in those eyes’ countless times before, being the two youngest of the family had created a close and tight bond between the two. And now, they laid in the red, stained grass, upside-down, staring at him with nothing, endless nothing, a perfect void, drained of any and all life.
Fear and sadness welled within Jaune, faster than the tears that had decided to occupy his eyes could, with his sister’s emotions following in turn.
The negativity had come crashing out of them in waves, comparable to a landslide, only cursing them further. This alerted the creature, its posture bolting upright slouching over the corpse of the young girl turned lunch. It turned at the waist, revealing just how long its arms really were, easily twice Jaune himself, each one holding a different end of the girl’s right arm. What was most terrifying was its canine-shaped head. The lupine resemblance almost uncanny, the bloody maul full of teeth as long as it’s claws and wet with a liquid that Jaune tried his best to forget the source of. The ears atop the skull of the creature pointed toward the sky, looked sharp and swivelled around, until stopping, pointed at the children.
What scared them the most were its eyes, the cold, harsh eyes that were the antithesis of its prey. Where the girl’s eyes had been full of life, joy and hope, the creature’s own orbs reflected hate, despair and death. It’s fitting really, that the eyes of love and hope had been filled with the deepest and most alluring of azure blues and the ones that killed them were as red and terrifying as hell itself would be.
The creature dropped its piece of lunch on top of the rest of its forgotten meal and lowered itself onto all fours, its impossibly long arms stretched forwards and its rear in the sky behind it, as a low yet rumbling growl escaped from between its teeth. Now, instead of pure shock rooting our children to the ground, it was the very fear and anxiety that told the beast they were there. And, in the space it took for Jaune let go of the breath his fear forced him to hold, the creature pounced.
In the few precious seconds, it took for Jaune to turn and push his sisters, the nightmare before then had covered the distance between them and stood right behind Jaune. This registered for Jaune as three large, ragged, diagonal cuts in his tiny back. Falling into the grass of the forest, quickly watching the green around him fill with his own red.
The creature ran after the girls, desperately attempting to flee, knowing its second victim had no chance of moving now. The two remaining girls were screaming and running, terrified of the lupine monstrosity behind them, not knowing that the very fear fuelling their escape them was exactly what made them even more delicious prey.
Jaune watched from his position, chin first in the dirt, as the beast caught up to them and doubled their pace, springing forward and turning to face his sisters, seeing the very same claw that had Jaune glued to the ground tear one of them in half, before she could even stop running. Her pieces staining the grass red in front of her remaining sister. The final sibling came to a stop before the stalking nightmare. Sobbing messily, she looked up from her tattered sister into the eyes of the monster that killed some of the best people in her life and seemingly paralysed her only brother. She began to beg, praying to the brother gods that, by some miracle, some stretch of the universe, that she would survive and make it home to her loving mother, sisters and father.
Her prayers and begs fell upon deaf ears as the beast shot forward, grabbed her temples between the daggers that made up its teeth and separated the top half of her head, sounding off with a sickening crunch mixed with a strangled cry of pain and torment.
And just dropped her body to the ground, discarding her like a toddler drops a toy they’re bored with.
Jaune watched the entire scene in front of him, unable to move or even think, terrified beyond all action or comprehensible thought, not that the he would have been able to move anyway, as the creature made its way closer to him, no longer moving in leaps or flashes, but walking, as its prey was rendered immobile by the large injury in its back. Jaune closed his eyes, tightening them as he braced for the pain he knew was coming, just as it had come for his sisters.
Jaune was so focused on biting back anything he felt and so drowned in his own fear and blood, that he didn’t hear the gut-wrenching scream of agony and desperate sorrow. Nor did he hear the heavy foot falls as something approached him and the beast, racing from elsewhere. What he did hear was the sound of his father’s shield deflecting the bloodstained claws, he heard and watched as his father, blinded by pure animosity and heartache forced the creature of death back and, eventually, decapitate it. In that moment, time had seemed to freeze, Jaune saw the fury and heartbreak on his father’s face, twisted into a cruel grimace, the image burned into his memory, alongside the corpses of his sisters.
Time only began to move again as Jaune’s father let out another cry, louder than all his previous screams, as he began to hack, slash and break any part of the Grimm before him, only stopping when its corpse had fully dissipated, as all Grimm do.
Only then did his father stop, drop his weapons and fall to his knees, weeping at the loss of his four youngest children, screaming and sobbing with his face in the dirt, almost seeming to burrow into it, wanting to find the blood of his children. Jaune watched as his father broke apart, small pieces at a time, tears flowing down his face, almost unending. But, as all things must ends, so too did the tears, sniffles and sobs of the town guard, his face steeled into a grimace of loss and sorrow, the piece of himself being replaced with a resolve, a vow to return his children to their home and never let thing happen again.
The Patriarch of the Arc family stood to survey the damage done to his blood. And here he froze, seeing the unsteady rising and falling of his son’s chest, missing pieces being filled properly again as new tears of joy and relief flood the father’s features. Sprinting to the wounded boy’s side, screaming his name and asking question he already knew the answer to, Jaune’s father dropped to his knees once again, but this time to help his damaged son, searching himself and the land around for any way to comfortably bring his son home. With the frantic search proving to be utterly fruitless, he simply, yet gently, picked Jaune from the ground and placed him on his unarmed shoulder.
Jaune’s father began the trek back to the family home, creating false promises, repeating apologies and crying, for the duration of the trip, moving as fast as possible, without causing the silent boy on his shoulder any more pain that what was already silencing him.
Jaune, however, heard none of these promises, “sorry” ‘s or sobs, only seeing the gleaming, blood-spattered shield, collapsed around the sword at his father’s hip, only able to focus on the warmth his father spread and the thought “That would have been useful” while staring at the blade’s handle, before the pain took his consciousness from him.
Jaune spent the next few days drifting to and from the conscious world.
He knew that he had been taken home, he remembered hearing gasps and cries upon his return, pain from the dressing of his wounds and more crying. Curiously enough, he also heard shouting, which would be normal enough in a house of ten... now seven. But this was different, most shouting normally came from his sisters, arguing about one thing or another or when his parents needed to discipline them, these bouts of shouting, however, came from his parents. They seemed to be arguing over something called “aura…?” Jaune wasn’t sure what if was or even if it was a word, but he did hear his mother scream “I CAN’T LET WHAT HAPPENED TO ME HAPPEN TO THEM, ESPECIALLY HIM!!” To which his father pleaded. “CAN’T YOU SEE IT ALREADY HAS, WE CAN’T LEAVE HIS LIFE IN DANGER JUST BECAUSE YOU FEEL HE SHOULDN’T KNOW ABOUT YOUR PAST OR THR WORLD!!” This is where the screaming stopped, hearing only loud and quiet sobbing and whispering coming from wherever the shouting had. All he really knew was that it scared him.
Jaune also remembered a doctor coming from town once or twice during those days. It was probably more, but he couldn’t stay awake half the time, what with the pain in his back knocking him out every few minutes after he woke.
It wasn’t until a week and a half had passed since the deaths of his family members that Jaune regained consciousness properly. He awoke to the tearstained face of his mother, the tears seeming to have cut long furrows down her face. She almost squealed with joy upon being woken up by her son trying to brush the tears from her face, the pure elation of her son being alive and awake causing more water to leaks from her eyes.
When the rest of Jaune’s remaining family burst into the room, each had similar reactions upon seeing his mother hugging him gently, with him awake this time. Which was then preceded by the inevitable questions, Jaune explaining everything, each detail clear in his mind, when the tears from his own eyes didn’t impede his speech as the emotions finally caught up to him. Often his family sat together for hours at a time, waiting for Jaune to finish crying before he continued.
No harsh accusations followed his tale, nor any blame, simply hugs, tears and promises from his family.
After that day the house flowed back into normalcy, albeit quieter, until three full years had finally passed. The wounds Jaune had received were not lethal nor debilitating, the claws not digging deep enough and missing anything important along his spine, “a small miracle!” The town doctor had claimed.
The town’s people had helped organise and set up, even pay for the funerals. Everyone knew the Arc children and none showed any particular hatred, only the same small loving-malice that followed mischievous children’s pranks and activities. Any and all real hate was directed towards the Grimm that resided in the forest, evident by the furious stares many levelled towards the trees beyond thew village walls.
Eventually, the dull gleam that seemed to cover the eyes of each family member, the same gleam that held the stars and oceans contained within their eyes at bay, disappeared as they could finally move on.
But, never forgetting.
Whenever the children played, they were always supervised, never left alone. Their father had managed a change in occupation and now worked from home as a writer of sorts. Their mother had grown more possessive of her family and Jaune’s elder sisters followed this attitude when it came to him, never letting him be by himself. At first, Jaune was okay with this, even feeling happy and safe from this caged lifestyle due to having seen the reason for its inception.
However, this did not last. Whenever Jaune had asked about the creature, his father only bitterly replied to ask his mother, to which she would say “an evil creature, but, as long as you stay here, you’ll be safe and not have to worry about it”. This never sated Jaune’s mind, but, was the only definition either parent would ever give him. When Jaune would ask to be trained like his father, to protect and kill the “Evil creatures” in the forest, his mother would shoot the idea down in the exact same way, forever denying combat to her remaining children. On this, his parents agreed and Jaune began to lose his feeling of comfort in his protective cage.
Jaune would eventually learn more of his family’s legacy through omitted records of their deeds in the study and from stories his mother told her children and discovers his own drive to become one of the Arc heroes, prompting him to become a Huntsman, despite his great lack of knowledge on the topic (What’s worse is that he doesn’t know just how much he doesn’t know about it).
He finds a way into Beacon and creates some of the best memories he’s ever had, the best friends he’s ever had and even a new family.
And everything happens as we know it will. Friendship. Growth. Happiness. Accomplishment. The Fall. And new beginnings.
--------------------------------
Hiya again!
thank you for reading my first actual piece of RWBY fanfiction. I made this concept up a few years ago, back when I was (possibly) obsessed with why Jaune knew so little of the world around him, despite a lot of it being vital to being a Huntsmen, So i wrote this little number (I don't know why i made it so dark of a story, but eh).
After rediscovering it, I thought I'd fix it up and post it here and thus, here we are indeed.
I know this doesn't answer how he got into Beacon, but that's not the point of the story in the first place. Please leave any notes of criticism, I'd really love to hear what you though about my story
Anyway, Thank you so very much for reading my work.
#jaune arc rwby#jaune arc#rwby#arc#arc family#hurt#death#gore#saphron cotta arc#saphron arc#comfort#fanfic#fanfiction#dark
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𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗺𝗮𝘀 𝗠𝗶𝗿𝗮𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘀
⇾ 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @blakes-dictionxry @spencerreidstie @reese-the-edgy-enby @moreid187 @reidrights @agentshortstacc @hotchnerslut @ssaemxlyprentxss @abitcriminalminds @moreidism @pretty-b0yy // @thestrawberrygirl
⇾ 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Derek Morgan/Spencer Reid, Jennifer JJ Jareau/Emily Prentiss
⇾ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3737
⊹ 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: The BAU finally decides to have a Secret Santa after they realize how much Penelope deserves it.
⊹ 𝐀/𝐍: This was originally gonna be separated into two chapters, but I didn’t wanna keep y’all waiting, so I’m posting it all at once. Credits to @sapphicstruggle for helping me with one of the gifts (Penelope’s), ily babes!!! PS. Like half of this isn’t proofread, so if there are any spelling errors or something sounds off, I apologize :// (yes I’m sleep deprived, no I will not go to sleep)
The month has barely started and the bullpen of the BAU was already the more festive place any of the members had ever seen. Courtesy of one Ms. Penelope Garcia, of course, and even though they weren’t too big on Christmas, they always appreciated the nice little decorations she put up every year. It was a nice change of scenery from that of gruesome bodies and psychotic killers.
As the team exited the elevator on December 11, coming home from a case, they were met with the most beautiful rug. It was large, and a vibrant shade of read, that was just vibrant enough to grab the attention of the team, but not too vibrant to hut their eyes. It had golden swirls at each of the four corners, and the fur was so soft, it almost felt... homey.
They continued walking in, knowing something big would be waiting for them, and they were not disappointed. As the profilers passed through the open glass doors they saw the lights dimly lit, and each of their desks was covered in fairy lights from the outside, and above the desk dividers. Golden garlands were set in hoops at the top of the walls, and rolled around the handrails that led them from the center of the bullpen to the conference room. All of the doors to separate offices had dark green painted door frames, and decorative wreaths that matched each other.
They each looked at their desks and noticed the name tags had changed as well, and once they sat at their individual posts, they all saw a little card with a candy cane tied to it with a nice little ribbon. All but Emily’s. Emily had 2, one assigned to her, the other to the blonde that always sat her desk after cases. The team smiled around at each other, before opening their cards and reading them silently to themselves. They smiled, some chuckled, but no one asked for what was in the other’s cards. It all felt too personal.
“Guys... how do we repay her?” Spencer asked in a soft voice. An idea popped in Derek’s brain, as he started to open his candy cane.
“You know,” he started, getting the team’s attention as Hotch and Rossi left their offices. It was so quiet in there, even through closed doors they could hear Morgan speak. “Every year, she asks for one thing we can’t provide...” they all looked around, watching each other’s reactions.
“You know we’re always away on cases, so we rarely get to spend Christmas together?” He asked, earning a nod and some guilt filled looks from the rest of them. “How about this year... we say screw it!” They all looked around wondering where he was going with this.
“Secret Santa...” Spencer said in a low tone, as realization hit him, and Morgen nodded. They all looked around wondering how the little genius could’ve guessed it.
“I mean think about it!” Morgan said after a while, the rest of them stayed silent. “We never get to do anything just us! Well, anything that isn’t work-related.”
“I agree!” Rossi chimed in. “We could all go to my place on the 24th, I’ll make diner, and with Secret Santa we only need to buy one gift!” He said, earning nods and smiles from the rest of them.
“We could have a sleepover!” Emily said jokingly, but smiled happily when Rossi said it would be fine by him. They all smiled, making small talk, mainly about Jack, Henry and Michael, and how they’d love to have a sleepover at Uncle Dave’s, but the conversation died as they heard an all-too familiar clacking of heels.
They turned around to the hallway leading to Penelope’s office, and saw as the blonde walked away from it, head down as she fumbled around in her purse, too focused to notice the team was there. She was pulled away from her thoughts, however, when she felt 8 arms all around her, looking up to see Emily, JJ, Derek and even Spencer huddled around her, thanking her in hugs. She hugged them back with no hesitation, obviously, but when she saw the bright smile on Hotch and Rossi’s face is when she realized how appreciated she truly is.
They all pulled away from her, and Derek was the one to break the silence.
“Baby girl, we uh...” he started shyly, looking around at the team for some form of confirmation, which he received in form of nods. “We were thinking on doing something a little special this year! We thought we’d all have diner at Rossi’s, spend the night and uh...” he said hesitantly, her smile only getting wider and wider. “We thought about doing Secret Santa!” He revealed, as if he were telling a child they get to go to Disney Land, and her reaction matched it perfectly. She gasped, and when they though her smile couldn’t get any brighter, it did! She wrapped her arms around Derek’s broad shoulders jumping in uncontrollable happiness, and rushed to place a kiss on all their foreheads.
Secret Santa was something she’d been asking for for so long, but every year they never got around to it. This year, with the promise of no cases, suggested by Derek and enforced by Hotch, they knew they had enough time to do all the things they’d been missing out on. And with that they all left the bullpen, each with a card in had that was way too special to be left forgotten in a drawer.
The next day, Penelope sprinted through the office with a colorful box in hand. She called everyone into the bullpen, and placed the box at the exact center of the round table. They all sat down with confused expressions, as the woman started to explain herself.
“In the box, there are 7 papers, each with our names on it.” She began, but couldn’t finish because of Spencer’s rude interruption.
“For Secret Santa? Nice!” He leaned from his place on the table towards the middle, reaching for the box only to get his hand slapped away by Garcia.
“Yes, and you will get your turn, eventually...” she squinted at him, and he leaned back in his chair, murmuring something of an ‘I’m sorry’ under his breath.
“Emily you get to go first, and we’ll go clockwise!” She emphasized. Given that Emily was sitting right next to Spencer, that would mean he’d be the last one, and the team chuckled at the punishment. They took their turns getting each of their papers, smiling and grinning smugly as they eyed the rest of them.
The rest of the week had gone smoothly, and the only cases they had were regional, so they didn’t have to fly to anywhere where their plans could be ruined. They made plans to go to Rossi’s mansion, given that it would mean they each had their own room.
—————
As they entered Rossi’s house mansion, one by one, they set the presents under the Christmas Tree, while they sat around the coffee table centered in the living room, and the couch right behind it. Hotch and Jack were the last ones to arrive, earning mocking cheers from the rest of the team as if it were a miracle. They shared some lighthearted conversation and laughter before Penelope grew impatient with excitement, and decided to start the gift exchange. Luckily, the kids had fallen asleep, and were taken to a guest rooms where they could sleep in peace.
“I’ll go first!” Derek said excitedly. “My person!” He announced, gathering everyone’s. “Can be mea-“
“Emily!” They all said simultaneously, not even letting Derek get a sentence in.
“Well, you’re not wrong, but you could’ve at least play dumb, no?” Derek mocked annoyance as Emily got up from her seat with a smirk. Derek leaned down to pick his present from under the tree. She tore the wrapper apart and gasped when she saw what laid underneath.
“You didn’t!” She said, a large smile growing rapidly on her face. “Derek Morgan, I love you, I love you, I love you!!!” She hugged him excitedly, bouncing on her feet with happiness as she opened the box to show a pair of two butterfly knives, one black and one white. She grabbed one on each hand, but before she could do anything, Derek took it away from her.
“We don’t need anyone loosing eyeballs on Christmas, now do we?!” She scrunched her face, faking mad, while the rest of them laughed. She put her knives back in the box, and gave Derek a tight hug.
“I guess I’m next,” she chuckled nervously before continuing. “My person is...” she pondered on how to describe the team member without making her feeling obvious. “Caring...
They’re always able to connect with the victims, and make a safe space for them. They value family over anything, and they could be a real badass with a gun!” They all shared a chuckle and started calling out JJ’s name. JJ got up, looking down as she made her way to stand next to brunette, trying to hide the blush that had mysteriously made its way onto her face. Emily handed her a flat box covered in colorful paper, and JJ quickly unwrapped it. She gasped, as she let the Christmas themed wrapping fall on the floor and opened the box. Tears started forming in her eyes, as she pulled Emily into a tight hug.
“Thank you!” She managed to choke out between tears as she handed Emily the box. “C-can you-?” Emily nodded as JJ turned around, and removed a silver locket from the box. The team watched the exchange in awe, realizing this was too personal to ask what the gif was. Emily placed it around JJ’s neck, and the blond looked down, opening it one more time. She stared at the picture of her and her sister for a few moments, tracing the oval shape of the necklace with her thumb, before wiping her tears away, and smiling at Emily.
“Jennifer Jareau, you are the strongest person I know!” She said, a whisper so low it sounded like nothing but soft mumbles to the rest of the team. “You have no idea how much you mean to me, Jayje.” Emily brought a hand to rest at JJ’s jaw while she praised the woman.
“And you couldn’t even dream of how far I’d go to protect you. And little Henry. And what I’d do to make sure you were safe!” JJ let a tear stream down her face before leaning forward, and pressing her lips to the brunette’s. The kiss was tender and sweet, as they held each other, even after they broke apart. JJ wrapped her arms around Emily, giving her one last hug. The team cheered lightly, and Spencer gave Emily a knowing look.
“I love you Jennifer Jareau!” Emily whispered against the blonde’s lips. “I love you, Emily Prentiss!” She let another tear fall, before they were pulled out of the moment once more by the team’s ‘awe’s.
“Right!” JJ sighed, as Emily sat back down. “Um, my turn, I guess.” She chuckled lightly, re-composing herself, as she removed her present from the Christmas tree. She smiled back down at Emily one more time, before looking at the rest of them. “My person is... often belittled by those around them, but they carry a special place in our hearts. Others might look at this person and make them seem less, almost infantile, but we know them, and we know just how untrue that is...” before she could finish, they all started looking at Spencer, and she noticed the way Derek looked him like he was the only person in the room. I guess Penelope and I sure got into his head, she thought to herself, as Spencer made his way from the couch around the table to stand next to her. She gave him a warm smile as she handed him his gift. He unwrapped it, and smiled brightly once his eyes landed on the object under the paper.
“JJ!” He looked between her and his gift before giving her a hug. “Thank you so much!” He said, not even bothering to hide his excitement as he ran a hand over where the title was engraved on the hard cover of the book. The Giver, he read to himself, faint happy memories reapering in his head. He flipped the book, demonstrating it to the team, but looking only at Derek. “Look!” He whispered, shaking the book a little, earning a chuckle and a nod from Derek and smiles from the rest of them. “I never actually read it, but my mom used to read this book to me all the time when I was little.”
He looked at the book mesmerizingly, “Thank you so much, JJ!” He smiled at the blonde, pulling her into another hug, and placing a soft kiss to her cheeks. She she sat back down, Spencer placed his book on the table, and fumbled around looking for his present.
“Um, alright, I uh...” Spencer struggled to find his words as he started at the object in hand. He looked at his teammates before continuing. “My person is constantly overlooked by those around them. The one asset that makes them stand out from the rest of the team is constantly brushed aside simply because-“ he stopped himself before he could say something that would completely give away who his person is. “Wha- what I’m trying to say is that, um, they are smarter then people give them credit for, and more caring then people want to admit-“ Spencer sounded infuriated, and Derek got up from his seat, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulders.
“Is it me?” He asked with a shit eating grin, making Spencer chuckle and blush lightly.
“Yeah,” he breathed out while he nodded, handing the gift to Morgan who gave him a forehead kiss before shifting his attention fully to present. Spencer blushed a little harder thankful that the only light source was the colorful lights from the Christmas tree behind him. Tears filled Derek’s eyes as he unwrapped the gift and opened the box.
“Pretty boy, how-“ he stood there staring at the focus of his attention as shock filled his every facial expression. The thing about Derek Morgan is that you’ll only see his emotions if, A) He wants you too, or B) he’s too comfortable around you to be able to hide them. Something in Spencer’s brain hoped for the latter.
“I managed to pull some strings...” He said, and Derek just smiled at him. He was so lost in Spencer’s eyes he forgot time was passing, and was brought back when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He chuckled awkwardly, removing and reading the text from his mom. Did you get the present? She asked him. He looked back up at Spencer who just nodded. He took a picture of the box in his hand-his gift- that held his father’s badge on a glass frame inside, and sent it to his mom.
“Thank you so much, Spence...” he hugged the boy tightly before letting go. The team looked at them in awe just like earlier, except this time all they got were nervous chuckles and longing stares. As the boys sat back down, Rossi got up from his seat.
Morgan sighed happily, and didn’t miss the way Emily and Spencer looked at each other. He knew how significant both his and JJ’s presents were, and that’s when he realized they probably got it together.
“I’ll go next!” Rossi said, making his way to the other side of the table, right in front of the Christmas Tree.
“My person is probably the only thing holding this team together! Highly likely the reason those two finally got together,” Rossi said pointing to JJ and Emily, “and the reason those two are about to!” He directed his pointer towards Morgan and Reid, where the boys looked down and away from each other, as a blush crept onto their faces.
“They are very charismatic, and always ready to help and make everyone happy!” They all turned their focus towards Penelope, and she got up with a smile. “Merry Christmas kiddo!” He reached around the tree, grabbing one of the enveloped boxes, and handing it to her. She unwrapped her present, her smile growing wider once she saw what the colorful paper had been hiding.
“I love it!” She smiled brightly at the object in hand. She showed off her new desk ornament to her team- a brightly lit frog carved on a piece of glass that was set on a rock with the label ‘don’t froget to love yourself’-before she gave Rossi a tight hug, and he made his way back to his seat. She removed the second to last present from under the tree, her smile not dropping for a single moment.
“My person has a very big heart despite the fact that they try to hide it. They can be very cold, but we all know they’re secretly a big softy!” She described her teammate as she looked around to all of them.
“Hotch!” Emily called out, while they all smiled, and Derek clapped Hotch’s knee with a chuckle. Hotch smiled at Garcia, as she handed him his gift. Hotch smiled as he unraveled a tiny box, revealing two tickets to go see Broadway’s Wicked musical.
“Ok, I know musicals aren’t your think, but-” she explained, but he cut her off giving her a smile.
“It’s perfect, Penelope, thank you!” He said, somehow sounding more formal then he did at work. She smiled at him, and resumed her place on the floor next to JJ and Emily.
“My gift isn’t something really meaningful, like the rest of your but...” Hotch leaned down to take the last present from under the tree as Rossi got up. “Merry Christmas, Dave!” He said, handing the older man his gift. Rossi removed the colorful wrapping to reveal a bottle of some fancy wine no one but Rossi (and Reid, probably) had heard of.
“Good shit, Aaron!” Rossi chuckled, giving Hotch a side hug, as they sat on the floor across from the rest of the team.
They shared lighthearted conversations after that, JJ and Hotch sharing stories about their kids, Spencer and Penelope bonding over Dr. Who while Derek just watched mesmerized, and Rossi seemed a little interested in Emily’s butterfly knife. Eventually they tired themselves out, and decided to turn in, each going to a separate room except JJ and Emily who bunked together.
—————
At around 3, Spencer finally stopped pacing in his room and walked out, heading straight to Morgan’s. He didn’t even think about knocking on the door, but luckily, Morgan was awake watching something on the TV.
“He kid, what’s going on?” He asked, intrigued, and Spencer didn’t let his mind wonder what the covers hid under Derek’s very naked torso.
“Um, about, uh... about your gift...” he scratched his head, struggling to find the right words.
“Is everything ok? Do I have to return it? It’s ok if I do, pret-“ Derek began, getting up from his bed, making his way next to Spencer, and getting cut off by the boy.
“No it’s nothing like that, I just-“ Spencer let out a frustrated sigh as Derek too Spencer’s hand in his. He guided him to sit on his bed, and Spencer immediately fell back, facing the ceiling. “Can I get a do over?” He asked.
“What do you mean?” Derek asked confused, laying down me to him, and they turned and moved until they completely facing each other. Spencer took out a tiny box from his pocket and stared Derek in the eyes.
“I have... something else for you- and you can say no-“ His words started out soft, but turned a little panicky, and Derek just nodded, intrigued. “Ok, so...” he started nervously, not lifting his eyes off the gift in his hand. “My person is the person with the biggest heart I know,” he lifted his gaze momentarily towards Derek before continuing.
“This person manages to get on every single one of my nerves...” he chuckled lightly, “but... they have a special place in my heart. I’d lay my life for them, and I trust them with every part of me. They’re the one I think of when everything is going to shit, and the simple thought of them bring me out of it. They mean more to me then anyone could-“ he tried to swallow his tears, but failed miserably. As tear slipped down his face, he looked up trying to stop the rest of them. “Then anyone could ever imagine...” he smiled sheepishly, as Derek took Spencer’s trembling hands in his own.
Spencer handed him the gift, and Derek took it hesitantly, not taking his eyes off Spencer’s. He opened it to find a ring with the words “bound together through space and time” engraved around the outside and “for 500 years” on the inside. Derek raised his eyebrow and gave the ring back to Spencer, expanding his hand. The boy slid the ring on Derek’s ring finger of his left hand.
“Pretty boy, I-“ Derek let a tear slip down his face, speechless at the gift. He looked at his hand for a few moments before he brought them up to cup Spencer’s face. He placed his lips to Spencer’s, and the boy reciprocated the kiss almost immediately. They broke apart after what felt like an eternity. Spencer chuckled lightly, between the mess of tears they’d made.
“I’ve been waiting so long to do that...” he whispered against Derek’s lips as they smiled. Derek pressed another peck to Spencer’s lips before whispering back.
“I’m glad you finally did... thank you, pretty boy!” He rubbed his thumb on Spencer’s cheek, leaning back in to give him a more passionate kiss. It felt sort of weird that their first kiss was at Rossi’s house, in one of his guest rooms, but laying here with Spencer, kissing him senseless is all Derek could ever ask for. Spencer looked almost angelic under the dim lighting of the room, like his own little angle had come to keep him safe. Even the experience itself felt so surreal to Derek. One could call it, a Christmas Miracle...
#criminal minds#moreid#jemily#criminal minds fanfiction#found family trope#iudoutiydiyd#gays in love#they really are tho 🥺❤️#moreid fanfic#jemily fanfiction#major fluffff#derek morgan/spencer reid#Jennifer jj jareau/Emily prentiss#Emily prentiss#Spencer Reid#Derek Morgan#jennifer jj jareau#jennifer jareau#david rossi#aaron hotchner#Penelope Garcia#is a mfing queen#isaidwhatisaid
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tuesday again 6/1/21
do you ever just Have A Week
listening mrs farenheit by the clans. the lead singer has a really unique presentation of indie frontman voice, get better soon. it’s a goofy little song with some grumbly guitar and the lines “ya got me burnin up/ i think i'll call you Mrs Fahrenheit” which i find charming. i rarely have anything particularly deep to say about music i just think this song is neat.
youtube
reading the lost tribe of the sith novellas by john jackson miller. im writing this very late monday night bc i don’t want to stay up even later reading these, but i don’t care for them very much. getting me really invested in one family’s story and then skipping a thousand years (TWICE!!!) is a weird method of storytelling, and i don’t think it’ll suddenly come together in the last sixty pages of this book. wish i cared about star wars less
watching army of the dead (2021, dir. snyder) is one of the most strangely tensionless films i’ve ever seen. it’s a HEIST FILM. with ZOMBIES. i’m not surprised zack snyder has never heard of the Hitchcock Bomb Theory, but GOD would this movie be greatly improved if someone had a wristwatch that was counting down the minutes and they looked at it every so often, or the camera ominously lingered on said wristwatch every once in a while. instead, problems are presented and immediately solved. characters deliver tragic backstory and their motivations of said tragic backstory like they’re delivering mantras at group therapy. it’s such a cool concept but such a bad film, not even fun bad. soulless. there are so many moving parts in this film and all they do is trip all over each other. combined, it could have been a frantic, tense careening rush from one problem to the next, but instead i never felt like anyone was in real danger until the literal last ten minutes of this two and a half hour movie. there’s almost nothing that makes you go “ooh how will this pop up later and fuck them?” bc this movie completes every single sidequest as it comes across it.
all of it is so poorly executed. the only good part is tig notaro chomping a cigar and doing her best han solo impression. go find a supercut bc it’s really and truly not worth your time
playing autogenerated word is “integration”, itch.io spat out Carnelian by Autumnotopia, a short point-and-click horror thing (maybe fifteen minutes, if that?) made by someone who counts homestuck as a formative art influence. this is not a dunk, i too read homestuck (yes all of it) and played hiveswap. i think it works here, bc it does give me that good early tens/teens ms paint nostalgia, and this game did make me very tense. you know in movies, when someone knows they’re almost certainly going to die but they square up and do their job anyway? mmmm. gets me in the heart somewhere. an interesting way to spend fifteen minutes.
while playing through it again to get screenshots i discovered some new dialogue, so just keep clicking on people more times than you think is necessary.
making the wretched hive piece continues apace. the buildings are my least favorite part, bc it’s a fuck of a lot of brown and a fuck of a lot of backstitch, unfortunately, in order to reap the rewards of having a pretty thing to go on the wall, you have to go through the ordeal of making it properly.
#tuesday again no problem#tuesday again#i have more bullshit to do than usual today so this goes up super early
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