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kpopfanfictrash · 4 years ago

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Raise the Barre (Epilogue)

Author: kpopfanfictrash

Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it

Pairing: Jimin / Reader

Rating: 18+ (Smut)

Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU

Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.

Word Count: 13,409

Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.

Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.

“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”

Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”

“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”

“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”

“Mom!”

She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”

Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.

Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.

Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.

It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.

At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.

When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.

The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.

When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.

Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”

“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.

He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.

That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.

Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.

This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.

Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.

The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.

You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.

You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.

That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.

Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.

Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]

Jimin:

Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up?�� [10:24 AM]

Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊 [10:24 AM]

Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found [10:24 AM]

Y/N: ha ha hilarious [10:25 AM]

Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day? [10:25 AM]

Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you? [10:25 AM]

Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day [10:26 AM]

Jimin: sounds nice [10:26 AM]

Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far [10:27 AM]

Y/N:

Jimin: LOL [10:30 AM]

Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else [10:31 AM]

Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈 [10:32 AM]

Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked [10:35 AM]

Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk [10:35 AM]

Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice? [10:38 AM]

Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine [10:41 AM]

Jimin: and probably Paulo [10:41 AM]

Y/N: lmao [10:43 AM]

Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear [10:43 AM]

Jimin: back at you haha [10:47 AM]

Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though [10:50 AM]

Jimin: was the drive home not enough? [10:50 AM]

Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift [10:51 AM]

Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss [10:51 AM]

Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too [10:52 AM]

You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.

Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.

Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park [10:54 AM]

“Who’re you texting?”

Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.

“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.

“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”

Immediately, you felt your face heat.

When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.

Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.

You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.

Any next steps would have to come from you.

It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.

If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.

Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.

Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.

Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”

Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.

“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”

Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”

Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”

“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”

“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”

“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”

With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.

“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.

“It’s not.”

“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”

Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”

Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.

“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.

“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”

“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”

She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”

Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.

“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”

“And are you still in love with Finn?”

“No.”

“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”

“I… Yes. A lot.”

“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”

You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.

Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”

Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”

Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.

You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.

Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.

“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”

You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.

Jimin had texted back.

Jimin: I would never! [10:57 AM]

Y/N: hey, so [11:01 AM]

Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve [11:02 AM]

Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents [11:03 AM]

Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.

Y/N: when do you get back again? [11:03 AM]

His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.

Jimin: December 28th [11:04 AM]

Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans? [11:04 AM]

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.

Jimin: I’m free 😊 [11:05 AM]

Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date? [11:05 AM]

Smiling ear to ear, you responded.

Y/N: yes. Please [11:06 AM]

On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.

“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”

Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”

Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.

“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”

Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”

“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”

“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”

“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”

“Well, you never know.”

“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”

“Noelle!”

She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.

“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”

“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”

Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”

Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”

“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”

“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”

Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”

Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.

Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.

“What else?” you prompted.

“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”

“What?”

Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”

“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”

When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.

“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”

“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.

Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.

“Password?”

“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.

“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.

As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.

Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.

“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”

Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”

Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.

“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”

“We will,” you laughed.

Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”

From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.

“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”

Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”

Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.

“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”

Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”

“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.

Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.

You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.

It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.

As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.

“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”

“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”

“That, and the romance of it all.”

Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.

“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”

“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”

You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”

His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”

Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.

Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.

Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.

Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.

“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”

The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”

“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”

The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”

Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.

The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”

“Rebecca.”

“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.

Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.

Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”

“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”

Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”

“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”

“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”

The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.

“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”

Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”

“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”

For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”

“I – well, yeah.”

You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.

Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”

“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”

He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”

Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”

The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.

“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”

“Like where?”

“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”

“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”

“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”

“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”

“Spaghetti-o’s?”

“Okay, two things.”

You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”

“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”

“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”

Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”

You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.

Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.

He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.

“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”

You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.

“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”

“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”

Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”

Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”

“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”

Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.

Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.

Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.

Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.

As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.

“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.

Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.

Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”

“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”

“You can pay next time, if you want.”

This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.

“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.

Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”

“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.

Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.

“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”

“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.

“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”

“… With me walking beside you?”

“Yep.”

You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.

“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”

You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.

Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.

“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”

“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”

“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”

You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.

To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.

“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”

“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”

“Oh.”

Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.

Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”

Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”

You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.

She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.

After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.

When you said as much, he laughed.

“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”

“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”

Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”

“Why would I lie?”

“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”

“I – that’s not!”

He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”

Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”

Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”

You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.

He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.

“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”

“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”

“Times after November?”

Jimin paused.

Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”

Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.

“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.

“What? But you hated me before Russet.”

“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”

When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.

“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”

Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”

“You didn’t.”

“No.” He spoke flatly.

“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”

“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”

“How so?”

“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”

You stared at him, speechless.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”

“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”

“Yeah.”

“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”

“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”

“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.

It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.

“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.

“Hey – what’s wrong?”

Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.

“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”

Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”

“You tried to apologize, though!”

“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”

“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”

“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”

His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.

“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.

“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”

“Probably not.”

“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”

Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”

Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”

“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”

“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”

In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”

Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”

Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”

Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.

Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.

“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”

When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.

Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”

“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.

The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.

“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”

Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.

Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”

Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.

“Me, too,” you whispered.

Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.

It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.

“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”

Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”

“Is that the name of your restaurant?”

“It is.”

“And you’re set on that decision?”

“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”

Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.

It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.

You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.

After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.

Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.

A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.

Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.

“What?” you said, glancing down.

“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.

“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.

“Yes, please!”

Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.

Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.

After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.

“Need help?”

“Yes, please,” you said weakly.

Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.

“What do you want to watch?” you asked.

Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”

“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”

“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”

“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”

Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.”

“What movie?”

“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”

“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”

You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.

At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.

“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.

His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”

“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”

Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”

“She told me.”

“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”

“Hm,” you said tightly.

His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”

“Answer the question.”

He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”

“And what was the other reason?”

“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”

“Yeah. I guess it does.”

“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”

“Oh. That. Well, I –”

“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”

You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”

Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.

He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”

“You won’t,” you told him.

Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”

“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”

“And what would be the point of that?”

Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”

Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.

“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”

Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”

“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”

“Mm, that’s a good point.”

“And your smile,” you said.

“What about it?”

“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”

His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”

“And your ears.”

Jimin laughed. “My ears?”

Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”

As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.

“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.

In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.

“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”

“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.

“Yeah?”

He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”

“Jimin.”

He opened his eyes.

Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”

Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”

“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”

Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.

You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.

Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.

Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.

Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.

This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.

Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.

Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.

Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.

“Shit,” Jimin croaked.

Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.

Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.

“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”

“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.

Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.

Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.

“Do what?”

Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.

“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”

“Jimin.”

He paused and looked up. “Yes?”

“Touch me. Please.”

Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.

His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.

Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.

He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.

“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”

Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”

“Can I see it?”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.

You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.

Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.

Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”

Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”

Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.

“Where’d we leave off?”

Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.

You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.

Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.

Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.

You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.

“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.

As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.

“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”

His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.

Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.

“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”

“Do you like it?” you asked.

You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.

“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.

Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.

Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”

“You said that before,” you whispered.

“I meant it.”

Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.

Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.

Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.

Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”

Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.

Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.

“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”

His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”

Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.

Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”

Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.

Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.

He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.

Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.

“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.

Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.

Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.

Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.

Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.

He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”

Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.

“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.

Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.

You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.

After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”

“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.

He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”

“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.

Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”

“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”

“Well, when you put it like that.”

“How else would I put it?”

His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”

Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.

He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.

Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.

Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.

Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.

Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.

At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”

Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.

Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.

“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”

He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.

Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.

“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.

“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.

He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.

“What are you doing?” you said.

He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”

“Why?”

“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”

“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”

Jimin stared at you a moment.

“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”

“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.

You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.

“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.

Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.

He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.

Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.

“Please,” you begged him.

“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.

It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.

Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”

Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”

Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.

When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”

“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.

A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”

Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.

Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”

“Do what?”

“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”

“Oh,” you breathed.

“Sounding like that.”

“Jimin. If you don’t –”

He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.

“Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.

His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.

He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.

Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.

“Jimin,” you whimpered.

Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.

He smirked. “Yes, baby?”

“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”

“You want it harder?”

As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.

“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.

“And faster? You want that, too?”

You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.

“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.

“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”

He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.

Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.

Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”

You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.

It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.

Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.

“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”

“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”

“Were they enough for you?”

“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”

“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.

Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.

“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.

Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.

Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.

Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.

He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.

“Happy new year,” he murmured.

“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!

RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST

#btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #jimin smut #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic #bts series #bts writing #jimin series #jimin writing #bts dance au #jimin dance au

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engie-ivy · 3 years ago

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Remus is the uptight, swotty Prefect who's always getting the popular and beloved troublemakers Black and Potter in detention. Remus doesn't care what people say of him, and he absolutely doesn't care about Black's blinding smile.

A Book By Its Cover

Remus pulls his jumper closer around himself against the draught in the large, empty halls. The corridor is dimly lit and he hears nothing but the sound of his own footsteps. Everything is quiet. Too quite.

A loud clang suddenly sounds from behind one of the tapestries. Remus almost smiles to himself. Bingo. In a swift motion, he pulls away the tapestry.

Startled, Black whirls around. He’s surrounded by what appear to be paint cans and rope. His shock only last a moment, though.

“Lupin!” He exclaims, a beaming smile appearing on his face. “What a pleasant surprise!”

Remus crosses his arms over his chest. He makes an effort to keep a firm expression on his face, to show he’s not affected by Black’s notorious, blinding smile, like everyone else is. “Only pleasant if you like detention. And as for a surprise, I am a Prefect. I am supposed to be here making my rounds. So what are you doing here?”

“Preparing a prank,” Black says simply.

Remus doesn’t know whether he should be insulted Black doesn’t seem to take his authority very seriously, or glad that he doesn’t insult his intelligence by coming up with an excuse.

“Right,” Remus says, before taking out his notebook and pen. “Out of bed after curfew and engaging in illegal activity,” he scribbles down. “And where’s Potter?”

“Aw, am I not enough for you, Lupin?” Black pouts.

“I figured you could use some company in detention,” Remus replies smoothly.

Black clicks his tongue. “So thoughtful.”

“If you’re here setting up some prank, then it’s a given Potter is setting up that prank somewhere else in the school as well. So, where is he?”

Black shakes his head. “For you’re own good, Lupin, you don’t wanna put James in detention right now. People won’t be too pleased with you if the school’s football star misses the upcoming match against Slytherin thanks to you.”

“So thoughtful,” Remus repeats Black’s words, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “But please, don’t concern yourself over me. I’ve never cared what others think of me, and I don’t plan on starting now. And you basically just admitted Potter is currently doing something that would warrant me giving him detention, so you might as well tell me where he is.”

Black sighs. “This is why people call you uptight.”

Remus’ expression hardens. “If people care so much, they should be mad at Potter for risking the football match in the first place by playing some stupid prank.”

Black gasps dramatically and clutches his chest. “Stupid? Our pranks are not stupid! They’re works of art! Jumping out of a cake on miss McGonagall’s birthday? Hilarious! Making a zip line to go from one floor to the other? Brilliant! Filling the gym with stray cats, many of whom were eventually adopted? Genius! People love our pranks. They make people laugh and bring some excitement in their lives. Much needed excitement, because let’s face it, school is boring. Sitting there, listening to old people tell you things you already know.”

“For you maybe,” Remus mutters.

Black scoffs. “Don’t pretend you’re not one of the smartest people in our class, Lupin.”

Remus just glares harder at Black, to show that no, he doesn’t care that Sirius Black, whom people are always falling over themselves for to get even a bit of his attention, has apparently noticed Remus’ academic achievements. No, he doesn’t care at all.

“Even the teachers love our pranks,” Black continues. “They put some life into this place!”

“We’ll see what miss McGonagall has to say about it when I report you tomorrow,” Remus says calmly. “I’ll go finish my rounds, and when I get back, you better have cleaned up this mess.”

As he turns around to leave, Black suddenly grabs his wrist. “Join us!”

“Wha...” Remus turns back, and his traitorous stomach flutters at how close Black is suddenly standing.

“Join us for one prank,” Black says.

Remus blinks at him. “Why in earth would I do that?”

“Because it’s fun! And honestly, Lupin, to me you always look like you can use a bit of fun.”

That catches Remus off guard. It’s true. Between struggling to get top marks, doing everything he can for extra credit, making sure he has a spotless record, excelling at his Prefect duties, and worrying about his sick mother, lately he often feels like just throwing his hands in the air and say ‘screw it all!’, and just do something crazy, something dumb or irresponsible. But he definitely never wanted for Black to notice that.

“Come on, Lupin,” Black says, as Remus stays silent. “Be part of the fun for once, instead of putting a damper on it.”

“Your childish pranks aren’t my idea of fun,” Remus bites back, feeling himself getting defensive.

Black just grins. “You won’t know that unless you join us for just one prank!”

“Why would you even want me to join you?” Many people would be lining up to be a part of one of Black and Potter’s infamous pranks. It’s beyond Remus why Black would ask that one stuffy guy who puts them in detention almost every week.

“Because I like you,” Black shrugs. “I like how hard you work for everything and how you don’t care what anyone thinks of you. And I think you secretly have a talent for it,” he adds with a wink, that absolutely does not make Remus’ knees go weak. “I bet you have a wicked side to you underneath all that swotty stuff.”

“But I’m a Prefect!” Remus argues. “I’m supposed to discipline rule-breakers, not break them myself!”

Black rolls his eyes. “You shouldn’t take that job so serious.”

This rubs Remus the wrong way. “Not everyone can afford to treat everything in life as a joke,” he says coolly.

Black folds his arms over his chest and stares. “A fancy title and a badge and suddenly you’re better than us?”

“It’s nothing like that!”

Black huffs. “Then why is that bogus job so important to you?”

“Because some of us can’t afford to have even one note on their record if they ever want to get anywhere in life!” Remus snaps. “Because some of us need perfect scores and every bit of extra credit they can get if they want universities not to immediately bin their applications! Because some of us don’t have a last name they can flaunt, a daddy who can make a phone call, a mommy who can throw some money around, and suddenly you’re top of the list! Because some of us can’t just look at their rich parents and rely on them to always give them everything they want!”

The change in Black is instant. He takes a step back, and instead of his usual easy smile and bright eyes sparkling with mischief, his face becomes an ice-cold mask. “Fuck you, Lupin,” he hisses. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

He pushes past Remus as he storms off, leaving him behind feeling very confused. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. Yes, the system is unfair and Black is privileged, but Remus supposes that isn’t really Black’s fault. He knows Black isn’t actually a bad person. His heart is in the right place, and he’s usually kind, only ever mean to people who, quite frankly, deserve it.

Remus just wishes Black would stop with those bloody pranks.

Remus just wishes Black would continue with those bloody pranks.

Or do anything really that makes him seem more like his old self. Remus never thought he’d miss that loud, barking laugh, that infuriating smirk, those lame puns so much.

Ever since everyone returned from Christmas break, Black has completely withdrawn. He hardly talks to anyone, he just sits silently, his eyes staring off in the distance and his expression blank. Potter is always by his side, softly talking to him or just throwing him worried glances.

Since then, it has been the talk of the school, and even in the papers and on the news: Sirius Black has been removed from his parents’ custody. It was a messy affair, the police has even been involved. Black’s father was arrested on grounds of child abuse. Apparently, Orion Black, the noble and well-respected patriarch of the prestigious Black family, has a habit of beating his son. It must’ve been going on for a while, but over the break it escalated. People just can’t get over how Sirius Black’s life wasn’t as perfect as it always seemed to be.

Remus feels bad for Black, and especially feels like an idiot, having said the things he said. He knows he owes Black an apology. It has been a couple of weeks since the break ended, and the apology is beginning to be long overdue. Though he also knows that Black has probably not been waiting for an apology from the uptight twat that always gets him detention.

Maybe it’s more to ease his own consciousness that he hesitantly approaches the table where Black is sitting. Potter glares at him the moment he sees him, and half gets out of his seat, probably to tell him to piss off, and rightfully so. However, after a quick glance at Black’s face, who’s looking up at Remus, he sits back down, as if he sees something on his friend’s face that makes him chance his mind.

“Bla- Sirius,” Remus says, realising a tad late that Sirius might nor want to be reminded of his family name right now. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “I said some shitty things to you, and I shouldn’t have. You were right, I didn’t know anything about you.”

“It’s okay,” Sirius says softly. “You had good reason to be angry, it’s a rather fucked up system. And you didn’t know. Didn’t know that I would’ve gladly given up all that privilege to just have parents who... who love me...”

Sirius’ voice falters and he trails off. Potter is staring at him wide-eyed, and also Remus is surprised. He knows Sirius hasn’t talked about it to anyone, and he feels almost guilty he’s saying it to him of all people. He’s also surprised at the overwhelming urge he has to pull Sirius into a hug, hold him and tell him they never deserved him anyway. He has to leave before he does anything stupid.

“I should go,” Remus says quickly. “If there’s ever anything I can do...”

As he turns around to leave, Black suddenly grabs his wrist. “Join us!”

Remus turns back to look at him.

“Join us for one prank.”

“Why would you want me to join you?” Remus asks, much like the first time.

“Because I like you,” Sirius replies, much like the first time, only where he had then sounded nonchalant and slightly amused, he now sounds pleading and vulnerable.

“Yeah,” Remus says hoarsely, because his Prefect duties suddenly don’t seem so important compared to helping Sirius come back to his old self. “Yeah, I’ll join you for one prank.”

And then the most amazing thing happens: for the first time in weeks, Sirius Black smiles. It’s only a small smile, but the room already seems a bit brighter. In a moment of vivid clarity, Remus knows that there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to make that boy smile.

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #james potter #boarding school au #prefect remus lupin

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weasleylangs · 4 years ago

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swipe right / f.w

Summary: Finding your best friend and your biggest crush on Tinder is always awkward. Pairing: Muggle!Fred Weasley x Muggle!Fem!Reader Warnings: Discussions of sex, language, alcohol, food/drink mention. Word Count: 6.9k (this is the longest thing i’ve ever written)

AUTHORS NOTE / hiiiii... this is my first fic in SO long but thank you for waiting for me!!! a huge thank you to my lovely rosie @spacexcowgirl for inspiring this fic and also listening to me ramble on about it for hours on end as i was writing it and for also beta reading it guys this fic rly wouldnt exist if it wasnt for rose so.........

/ also, george’s girlfriend in the fic is named ‘em’ and she has no physical description besides also using she/her pronouns. i’m trying this out so even people who aren’t (primarily) fred simps can self insert in this fic!!!

taglist / @amourtentiaa @weelittleweasley @lumos-barnes @lumosandnoxwriting @loveboyhalo @harrysweasleys @freds-slut @rcwenaclaw @barneswidow @fandomhideout

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

Y/N stared at her screen, the Tinder profile of Fred Weasley staring right back at her, teasing her ominously. She eventually decides to lock her phone to avoid the familiar and unwelcomed feelings rising in her throat. The last thing she ever expected to see during her mindless swiping at 1am was her best friend’s Tinder profile.

She knows it’s hypocritical to feel this way but she’s also not stupid. She and Fred both have had their fair share of dates and hookups thanks to dating apps- they’re in the twenties and single after all. But she can’t shake how weird she feels finding Fred. Like she’s stumbled across something private.

Y/N unlocks her phone again, curiosity eventually making her cave after staring at her ceiling blankly for way too long.

‘Pros: I’m an Aries (I’ve been told that's a good thing). Cons: I’m an Aries (I’ve been told that’s a bad thing).’

It’s a short and simple bio, much like her own but she has to stifle a choked laugh. She and George’s girlfriend have said these to both the twins and she feels a sense of accomplishment that she can’t explain. Almost like Fred thinking of her while he sets up his dating profile means something.

She hesitates a moment, debating between swiping left and never thinking about Fred and dating profiles ever again and swiping right just to see what happens. Y/N’s definitely making it a bigger issue than it has to be, which is why she doesn’t realise when George’s girlfriend and her roommate suddenly appears in her doorway holding chocolate.

“Em, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow?” She questions and the girl in the doorway shrugs, making her way into the room and sitting down without an invitation.

“I can vaguely hear you monologuing next door,” she laughs as she breaks a line of chocolate off the bar and hands it to Y/N. She groans, in her moment of panic she completely forgot about the fact it’s late and their bedroom walls are paper-thin. “All I heard was something about Fred and the word fuck. I hope I’m not interrupting anything…” she winks and Y/N cringes, Em’s usual 15-year-old boy humour shining through as she pops the piece of chocolate in her mouth.

“You’re hilarious,” Y/N says rolling her eyes but she can’t deny the fondness that’s there for her best friend. “No, you’re not interrupting anything, rather the opposite actually, look.” She passes her unlocked phone to Em and Y/N wishes she could have captured the shocked look on Em's face.

“Fred has a fucking active Tinder?” She’s quickly swiping through his profile and she hates to admit he has good pictures, but when she gets to his bio she snorts and rolls her eyes. “That’s something you say, Y/N.”

Y/N feels her face go red at Em’s comment. She’s acknowledged this already but when someone else says it she feels like she isn’t being as far fetched as she’s convinced herself. While she outright refuses to acknowledge her feelings for Fred to anyone who isn’t herself, she knows Em knows without having to tell her. Call it best friend instinct, ‘dating-his-twin-brother’ instinct, whatever she pleases, which is why when there’s a mischievous glint in Em’s eyes, Y/N immediately is reaching for her phone. “No.”

Em whines, rolling onto her back. “Why not, you’re so boring!”

“I am not swiping right on Frederick fucking Weasley.” She feels her face becoming warmer as she says it. Em gives her a look as if to say ‘I believe you’ with a glint in her eye that makes Y/N know she doesn’t. “I’m just never going to open the app again!”

Em rolls her eyes but the fond smile on her face is unmistakable. “And do what, love?”

Y/N falters for a second before shrugging. “Not perceive his profile. It’ll be gone into the abyss of people who live in London and I’ll never think about it again.” She’s smiling, thinking she’s concocted the most perfect plan.

-----

It wasn’t the most perfect plan, for when Y/N is hanging out with Fred two days later she’s faced yet again with the ‘Tinder Predicament’ as dubbed by Em. Fred and Y/N are sitting in their favourite park, the new spring weather of London on their skin as they soak up the friendly sun rays after a harsh winter. Y/N is laying on her stomach, the book open but she’s barely reading as she pretends to listen to Fred ramble on about only God knows what.

It’s 11am, not too early for the park to be empty but busy enough that other people are turning up, mostly couples. Y/N tunes Fred out, quickly getting lost in her own thoughts. Do other people think we’re a couple? she thinks to herself. She knows if Em could read her mind she’d say yes and Y/N is quick to push the thought out of her mind.

Everything is interrupted when her phone lights up with a ‘You’ve got a new match!’ notification and before she can hide it from prying eyes, Fred’s wolf-whistling.

“You’ve got dating apps, do ya, Y/L/N?” he teases and Y/N wants the Earth to swallow her up, she can’t think of a worse situation to be in.

“Yeah, don’t you?” The second the words leave her mouth she regrets them. Fred’s smirking at her, a signature smirk of his he only does when she knows he’s up to something. Unfortunately for her, she is on the receiving end of that something.

“Something along the lines of ‘looking for a golden retriever boy?’. Ring any bells, darling?” Y/N feels her blood drain from her body and Fred releases a laugh that can only be described as a full-body chortle. “You know I have one, darling. Besides, you popped up last night. I already knew.”

Y/N groans. This shouldn’t be as embarrassing as it feels but it’s Fred and knowing Fred has seen her dating profile was low on her wishes for this week, or for her entire life for that matter.

“Did you at least swipe right on me?”

It’s said with a teasing manner, falling right out of Y/N’s mouth before she can stop it. Her curiosity always gets the best of her and she wants to kick herself for it. But she doesn’t even notice Fred’s slight falter, the red tint kissing his cheeks and emphasising the freckles across his face at the comment. “You’ll have to swipe right on me to find out.”

She can’t tell if he’s joking. But Fred is always joking. So she laughs and pushes him slightly, “If I come across your Tinder profile, I’m reporting it.”

“It would be a blessing from the universe for you to come across my dating profile. I’m sure you’d appreciate my bio.”

“Let me guess. ‘6’3 if it matters’?” Fred scowls looking down at her and she knows she looks way too proud for that comment but she doesn’t care and after a few seconds, Fred doesn’t care either. He starts to feel a small shred of jealousy from knowing Y/N has a Tinder profile, but he swallows it, tabling it for later when he isn’t with her.

“Why do you have the app?” He blurts out, annoyed at himself for letting it slip out. “Just… Curious, y’know?” He adds on when he notices Y/N looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t really want to know, but the words are out there and the cute scrunch of Y/N’s nose as she thinks of an answer almost makes it worth it.

“Male validation, mostly,” she laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck when she hears Fred laugh along with her. “I don’t know, Freddie.” She says, exasperatedly. “I barely use it. What about you?”

“Sex, if I’m honest.” Now it’s his turn to awkwardly laugh because he knows he answered that way too quickly and a little too honest for his own comfort. Y/N’s been his best friend for years, probably knows him best besides George but she didn’t really need to know he uses his Tinder profile to hook up with people.

When Y/N doesn’t respond immediately, Fred takes it badly. He knows she would never judge him, not about anything and especially not this, but his thoughts get the best of him and sometimes he can’t help it. He has no idea Y/N is in her own head, jealous other girls get to hold Fred at a distance closer than she ever will.

He clears his throat and checks his phone to see no notifications besides a direct message from Lee Jordan. He knows George isn’t expecting him home- cursing his brother when he remembers George demanded the flat to himself (and in turn, also Em) today for a few hours. “Hey, uh. I’ve gotta go. Emergency with George apparently.”

He knows he shouldn’t have lied, it’s not even a good lie but it was the first thing he thought of. He notices Y/N’s eyebrows furrow before she shrugs, nodding before closing her book. “That’s okay, I was getting tired anyway. I might pop back to my flat for a nap.”

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Fred asks and his chest feels warm when Y/N meets his face with a smile.

“Of course, Freddie.”

She watches Fred leave, her thoughts getting the best of her. She knows for a fact there is no ‘George emergency’- she knows George is with Em probably being sick and in love and she’s sure Fred knows this too. The realisation Fred made an excuse to not spend time with her hits her like a truck, her mind frantically searching for what she could’ve possibly done to upset her best friend.

“Fuck,” she whispers to herself, the second she realises.

-----

To: Em > if you come home tonight dont mind me being drunk x

Y/N sends the text as she stands in the kitchen, pouring herself her second glass of wine before it has even hit 6pm. On her way home, she stopped by the liquor store, picked up her favourite wine and decided to drink away the anxieties of upsetting Fred.

From: Em > ill be home. ill pick up chinese on the way. save me some wine!!! x

She smiles down at her phone, knowing Em would always be there without even realising it. She sits down on their couch and turns on the television- old reruns of early 2000s sitcoms playing on almost every channel.

It’s 20 minutes late when Em turns up. She’s nursing the Chinese food as if it’s a child as she tries to unlock the front door without dropping the food or her bottle of wine. She smiles proudly at Y/N the second she gets in, putting the food on the table before she grabs her own wine glass.

“What happened today?”

Y/N is caught off guard but she shouldn’t be shocked. She doesn’t usually drink and when she does, it’s very rarely without Em. “Nothing’s wrong!” she says, skulling the rest of her wine when Em gives her a knowing look.

“You were with Fred today and now you’re sad drinking. What happened?” Usually, she loves when Em is her all-knowing best friend, but right now she wishes she’d shut up.

“Nothing happened!” She’s adamant to not say too much. She knows it’s probably all in her head, that she and Fred will be fine in a few days but when Em gives her one more knowing look, she breaks. “Okay, fine. I think I upset him today.”

Em’s confused, to say the least. Fred, for as long as she has known him, has never been upset with Y/N- even on accident. She has the tall redhead wrapped around her finger. “How?” she questions, because she truly can’t think of a single thing that Y/N could do to hurt him.

Em places Y/N’s food in front of her when she starts speaking. “We were talking about Tinder- don’t give me that look he saw a notification and it came up and he asked why I had it. I said I don’t know and when I asked him, he said he uses it for sex,” Y/N says softly, pouring herself another glass of wine before continuing. “I didn’t say anything when he said that, because… Well… You know why.”

Em does know. She knew the second she became Y/N’s roommate their first year of University that she had feelings for Fred and she knew immediately Fred liked her too but Y/N’s never believed her. “You think he got upset you didn’t say anything about sex?”

“I think he thinks I was being judgemental.” Em sighs at Y/N’s response. She loves both her best friends- they’re her favourite people besides George but she knows they can be idiots. They sit in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being the forks against their Chinese containers before Em grab’s Y/N’s phone, unlocking it.

“Well if Fred’s using Tinder for sex, so should you!” she says matter-of-factly and when Y/N groans from the kitchen sink, Em speaks again. “It’s true! He likes you but won’t tell you, you like him but won’t tell anyone! Who’s a good meaningless shag going to hurt?”

That’s how they end up in Em’s bed, cuddling under the duvet with ice cream and Y/N’s Tinder profile open on her phone. “You’re so fucking picky, holy shit,” Em says when Y/N scrunches her nose up at the sixth consecutive guy. “It’s a shag, not a hand in marriage, love.”

“They don’t do it for me!” Y/N is avoiding the elephant in the room- that she’s comparing every guy that pops up to Fred. “I have to be attracted to them for this meaningless shag you’re preaching about… See, he’s cute!” His name’s Cormac, he’s 21 so only a few years younger than Y/N and he’s not bad looking.

“He looks like a douchebag!” Em exclaims and Y/N groans.

“You told me to stop being picky!”

“Stop being picky doesn’t mean saying yes to the first conventionally attractive guy we see!” Em exclaims as she swipes left on poor Cormac. Y/N gets up to pour herself and Em one more glass of wine each and she hears Em starting giggling to herself when the new profile shows up, hiding the phone from Y/N’s eyes when she walks over. Without even questioning Y/N, Em swipes right and immediately she starts howling laughing.

‘New Match!’ the screen reads and Y/N feels her breath hitch when snatches the phone from Em’s hands and she sees who she matched with.

Fred, 24. 2km away.

“I remembered after dinner, you said he told you to swipe right to see what he did,” Em says proudly, and Y/N regrets even mentioning it to Em offhandedly. Y/N’s eyes are transfixed on the tiny screen. There’s no way he seriously swiped right, she’s sure it’s only a joke- people jokingly match with their friends all the time. “So here you go, Freddie swiped right on my lil Y/N/N.”

Y/N shakes her head at this. “I’m sure he only did it as a joke. People do that when they find their friends on Tinder all the time!” she says, sitting back down on the bed and cuddling up next to Em. “You were telling me to swipe right on him last night, after all.”

Em looks at Y/N and sighs, clearly sensing how uncomfortable Y/N is feeling right now from the confrontation of her feelings for Fred. “I was telling you to swipe right because I know you’re in love with him,” she says softly, not missing the way Y/N’s eyes soften at the mention of her feelings for Fred. “I’m sorry if I’d known-”

“Don’t apologise! I’m just going to ignore the fact we matched,” she says softly, unlocking her phone and immediately exiting from Fred’s profile. The tension from a few moments ago quickly dissipates as Y/N receives another match, this time from a boy named Neville who Y/N knows is friends with Fred’s little brother.

“When did you swipe on Nev?” Em asks and Y/N shrugs. She knows she probably did it to be funny, like what she thinks Fred’s done to her, but the more she thinks about it, Neville isn’t a bad match. He’s nice, friendly and now he’s in his twenties, he isn’t bad looking either.

“Nev’s sweet. If he asked me out I’d say yes.” She says. She isn’t lying- there’s been times she’s considered going on dates to avoid her feelings for Fred, to get over him once and for all but whenever it gets to that point, she chickens out. “I know you want a meaningless shag, but I think maybe a date would be a good idea. You know?”

Em nods, pulling Y/N closer to cuddle her and suddenly feeling bad about preaching for meaningless sex. “Maybe you’re more of a date before shagging kind of girl, and that’s okay.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

-----

Em’s fast asleep and Y/N’s overthinking next to her when she gets a message from a match. Y/N rolls her eyes when she sees the time reads 2am; knowing whoever's messaging at this time is just looking for a booty call but she opens the notification nonetheless.

From: Fred > i can be a golden retriever boy :)

She smiles at the message, Fred’s presence always does that to her. She never expected him to message her on tinder considering she’s convinced it was just a joke swipe right, but this is probably just a joking message too. She checks his bio is still the same Aries joke before quickly replying.

To: Fred > good thing im a big aries fan then ;) > how tall are you though? im sure youre well aware it matters

She hopes Fred laughs at her messages because making Fred laugh is her favourite pastime. The three dots signalling Fred’s typing pops up and her heart starts to race.

From: Fred

> im 7’5 if its that important :/

She giggles and when doesn’t know how to reply after that, she exits out of their messages, but it’s not like she has to keep a conversation with Fred going. She’s trying to think of a funny message to send Fred when she gets another message; this time from Neville.

From: Neville > hi Y/N! i hope this isnt a weird time to message you, i just finished grading some work. i was wondering if you’d like to get dinner sometime this week? we were kind of friends at school, after all, and it’ll be nice to catch up :)

The message from Neville is sweet, and she almost feels guilty reading it. Attached is his number and everything and Y/N feels her throat closing up. She would feel terrible going on a date with Neville despite what she claimed earlier, knowing her heart currently belongs to Fred.

But Fred’s lack of interest in her is eating at her as much as her own feelings for him do, and she knows she deserves better than to sit around and wait for him any longer. If Em was awake the date would already be confirmed, she knows that much so she decides to say yes to Neville, to at least put herself out there. She can imagine the little Devil version of Em dancing on her shoulder as she begins to type out a reply to Neville.

She doesn’t even think to look at who it’s being sent to before clicking send. But by then it’s too late- she doesn’t even know how she ended up back in Fred’s messages but now she wants to roll up into a ball and die.

To: Fred > hi neville! id love to grab dinner one day, here’s my number and we can organise it tomorrow because im going to bed now! x

She’s staring at the message for so long she doesn’t even notice the ‘???’ she gets back from Fred. She quickly copies and pastes the message to the right recipient this time before plugging in her phone and rolling over to sleep.

Em’s slight snoring lulls her to sleep, thoughts of Fred filling her mind before she passes out for the night. What she doesn’t know is that while she falls asleep, Fred lays awake, staring at his ceiling. Contemplating the knowledge he has knowing Y/N’s potentially organising a date with one of his little brother’s best friends.

-----

Fred hates this feeling; this feeling of jealousy in his stomach that’s threatening to spill out of his throat. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about Y/N accidentally messaging him about a date with another person all morning and he knows George is getting annoyed with him.

“Why are you being such a prat this morning?” George had asked when Fred scowled at his brother for simply standing in the kitchen. Fred had huffed as a reply, grabbing the milk for his tea before sitting down at their table to munch on his toast.

“Not being a prat,” he says, words muffled by the food in his mouth and George gives him a disgusted look before taking a bite of his own toast. “Do you remember Neville Longbottom?”

George nods, of course, he knows Neville. “Ron’s friend? Super nice bloke. Think him and Hannah Abbott just broke up, why?”

Fred shrugs, he’s almost positive it’s the same Neville now. “Think Y/N’s going on a date with him, that’s all.” When George raises his eyebrows, Fred speaks again, “Just wanted to make sure she wasn’t going on a date with a prat.”

“Wanted to know who she is going on a date with in general, more like it,” George mutters under his breath. He knows Fred better than he knows anybody, better than he knows his girlfriend and almost better than he knows himself. “You sure you’re not jealous?”

Fred squints at George. “Why would I be jealous?” Fred stands and makes his way to the kitchen to wash up his dishes and he almost drops them in the sink when George speaks again.

“Because you’re in love with Y/N?” He says it so casually Fred almost chokes on air. He’s never thought about himself and Y/N in that way. Sure they like to cuddle when they’re drunk and they spend every waking moment together but he’s not in love with Y/N.

Is he?

“What makes you say that?” Fred asks quietly, hoping to hide the red blush forming on his cheeks. George might be his best friend and twin brother but he knows he would never live it down admitting he has feelings for Y/N.

“You two are worse than Em and I, and we’re actually dating,” George speaks as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “When Em first met Y/N, she asked how long you and she had been together for, mate.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Fred says a little too quickly.

“I’m sure it doesn’t, Freddie,” George smirks as he speaks, getting up to wash his dishes now. Fred stands in the kitchen, nursing his cup of tea as he contemplates George’s words. Sure, he always knew he had some kind of feelings for his best friend, but being in love was another whole ordeal. It means wanting long term commitment, probably a house together, maybe marriage, perhaps kids if Y/N wanted them and the longer Fred sits with these in his mind, he quickly realises he does want all that and even more with Y/N. He’s probably wanted it with her for a while and he just hasn’t ever realised.

“Fuck,” he mumbles, low enough for George not to hear but when Fred doesn’t have a rebuttal to George’s words he knows he’s accidentally sent Fred into an existential crisis.

“Look, Fred. If Y/N going on a date bothers you, you need to tell her.” George knows he’s about to cross some lines that he promised himself he would never cross but it’s getting dire in his eyes. “Y/N likes you and deep down you know you like her too, even if you’re oblivious. She deserves to know and if you’re too much of a chicken to admit it to her, then you don’t get to be bothered about her going on a date with Neville Longbottom.”

Fred huffs. He knows George is right, but he can’t help but feel like he truly noticed too late. He swiped right on her on Tinder hoping she would swipe right back and they could go from there. But he knows Y/N only swiped right to see if he had done it first, that she only swiped right out of curiosity and right now, Fred is cursing the app under his breath.

“Well, fine, yes I like Y/N, but I can’t just stop her from going on a date. That’s controlling and mean.” Fred states and George just sighs. “I’ll talk to her after her date, if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

George stares at him. “Since when are you mister Que sera, sera, Freddie?” Fred shrugs, not understanding the reference George made. “Since when are you just letting it happen?” George translates when he notices the blank stare on Fred’s face.

“Since right now. I don’t want to come off controlling to Y/N.” Fred says. In actuality, even though he knows George would never lie to him, he’s scared. Y/N is his best friend and the last thing he ever wants to do is ruin his closest friendship all because of some jealousy.

“Okay fine, but if she gets a boyfriend, I’m sorry mate,” George says and he knows putting the threat of losing Y/N romantically on the line is harsh, but it’s what he has to do. He’s watched the pair pine for each other for years and he’s sure this is the last straw.

“We’re going out with the lads in a few days, by the way! Maybe you can stop moping enough for a shag!” George calls out and Fred flips him the finger as he walks off to his bedroom.

-----

Y/N and Neville decide on getting dinner together three days later. It’s a Friday so neither of them has to worry about work or coursework the next day, which is perfect. Neville tells Y/N about his favourite Italian restaurant right near Old Street subway station in Shoreditch, so that’s where the pair decide to meet.

It’s rather busy when Y/N gets to the station. Neville has apologised profusely for still being fifteen minutes away but she reassures him it’s fine and that she’ll meet him outside the station so they can walk to the restaurant together.

Y/N’s on her phone, texting Em and telling her she’s safe when she feels a presence next to her. She tenses up quickly but she soon relaxes when she looks at the person next to her and realises it’s Fred.

“Hi,” she says, smiling. She hasn’t seen him since the day in the park, but they’ve texted and called so she’s sure everything is fine. “What are you doing all the way on this side of London?”

Fred smiles and shoves his hands in his jeans pocket before replying, “Grabbing a drink with the lads tonight, love. What about you?” His tone is casual and Y/N has to stop herself from checking him out. He’s dressed in a nice dress shirt, it’s orange and on anyone else, it would clash with his hair but Fred somehow manages to pull it off. He’s got a black jacket over the top of his shirt, alongside black jeans that show off his long and muscular legs on and his outfit is paired off with a pair of boots on his feet.

He’s not making it easy to get over him, that’s for sure.

“I’ve got a date,” she’s shy when she says it, looking away from Fred and then back down at her phone. The time reads 6:47pm and Neville’s train will be getting in any second now. She’s trying to get over Fred and the last thing she needs is Fred lingering when said date turns up.

“Ah yes, with Neville, if I remember correctly,” Fred’s teasing and Y/N has to force a laugh out. She blocked out the fact she’d accidentally messaged him instead of Neville and was hoping he would forget as well. But this is Fred she was talking about, and Fred never lets up a chance to tease Y/N for something.

“Yeah, Neville Longbottom,” she says and she catches the look of recognition that flashes across Fred’s face. “He was friends with your brother in school.”

Fred nods in acknowledgement while he can’t decide whether or not he’s happy with the confirmation that he was right. He’s sad and jealous, that much is obvious, but he’s a little happy. Happy that even though Y/N is going on a date with someone who isn’t himself, it’s someone he knows would treat her like she deserves.

“Neville’s a good guy, I’m happy for you,” he forces out and Y/N smiles up at Fred and he wants to sink into the Earth. The smile on her face is one he wants to be the cause for forever. “I should get going, tell Nev hello for me!”

He pulls Y/N into a quick hug, presses a quick kiss absentmindedly on the top of her head before letting her go and crossing the street and making his way to the bar he’s meeting Lee, George, Harry and Ron at.

Y/N watches him leave, dumbfounded. The kiss on the top of her head is nothing less than usual; Fred’s always been touchy with her but now it feels weird. All she wants is to call out to Fred and demand the redhead take her on a date instead.

But before Y/N can do anything drastic, she hears Neville call out her name and she turns around quickly. He’s just as sweet and cute as she remembers and even if she wishes Fred was the boy she was on a date with, Neville is someone she would be friends with above anything.

“I hope you weren’t waiting too long!” He says when he reaches her, kissing her cheek as Y/N pulls him into a hug. His presence is comforting and he smells like cinnamon and Y/N feels herself instantly relax.

“Not too long!” She replies as she begins walking towards the restaurant with Neville. During Spring, the cold weather still returns at night so their hands are shoved inside their jacket pockets to keep warm but they’re walking closely together. “I ran into Fred just before, so he kept me company.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Neville says as he grabs the door to the restaurant, “can’t have a pretty girl waiting outside a subway station alone.” Y/N feels her cheeks heat up at his comment.

They’re quickly seated and wine is ordered. They’ve been placed in a booth right near the window, where they’re able to watch the City of London go by. “How’s teaching going?” Y/N asks when she remembers Neville recently graduated and got an immediate job offer at the Agriculture department at a college in Surrey.

“It’s going well! I specifically teach the floriculture courses so I love it, of course,” Neville’s smile couldn’t get any wider. Y/N specifically remembers his constant fascination with plants and flowers in school and she couldn’t be happier for him to be doing what he so clearly loves, “What about you?”

“Being hammered by my postgrad coursework,” she says, laughing and taking a sip of her wine. “My job at the bookstore near my flat doesn’t suck but I definitely don’t work as much as I used to, unfortunately.” Neville raises his glass, almost to say I’ll drink to that when the waiter comes over to take their order.

Dinner goes quickly, conversation flows easily between the two and soon enough the bill arrives and Neville grabs the cheque before Y/N can even say anything. “You can grab it next time.”

Y/N falters at this. She knows she should say something to Neville; that this has been nice but there won’t be a second date. She’s too caught up in her panic and she’s beginning to curse Fred Weasley under her breath when Neville gently places his hand on the small of her back to lead her out of the restaurant.

“Are you okay?” Neville asks when they get outside. He noticed the tensed look on Y/N’s face the second they got outside and when she nods and sighs he takes it as a sign to stop walking.

“This has been nice, Nev,” she starts and she feels terrible even though she knows it’s better, to be honest. “But I don’t think I’m-”

“Ready for a relationship?” Neville finishes for her, and he’s not condescending when he says it. He could tell even before dinner was finished that she probably felt that way and he doesn’t mind. “I don’t think I am either. But this was fun, was it not?”

Y/N nods, smiling as the anxieties of hurting Neville wash away. “It was fun!” she says, “I hope we can do it again. Even as friends?”

He nods back, a warm smile gracing his cheeks. “Of course.”

They walk back to the station together, promises of seeing each other again soon leaves their mouths as they walk to their respective platforms.

From: Neville > thanks for tonight. i forgot to mention, please tell me when you’re home safe!

She smiles down at the text, shooting Neville a reply of reassurance that she will before opening her messages with Em to let her know she’s on her way home. She’s jumping through her apps, Snapchat that she only uses for filters, Facebook she only uses to check the ‘Dogspotting’ group until she lands on Instagram.

She sees a story from George and when she opens it, she immediately regrets it. It’s their friendship group, that much she expected but she sees a girl sitting next to Fred nursing what looks like a Gin and Tonic and Y/N feels sick.

She immediately closes the app, pretending she didn’t see it. She has no right to be upset over this but it plagues her thoughts for the entire subway trip home.

That’s when she decides she’s going to demand answers from Fred. She doesn’t know how, or when or if she’ll even do it without Em forcing her to, but she knows she deserves better. That she doesn’t deserve to hang on the end of every touch, every word of Fred’s in hopes he’ll hold her closer than arm's length while she desperately wants more.

-----

The next night, Fred’s laying on his couch in an uncomfortable position searching Netflix at 10pm when he hears a knock at the front door. He knows it isn’t George, or any member of his family for that matter and any normal person would ring before coming over this late at night. So when Fred gets up and looks through his peephole to ensure he’s not about to be murdered, he’s shocked to see an angry-looking Y/N.

He opens the door and she’s immediately inside, pushing past Fred’s body and when she turns around, she has the most determined look on her face he’s ever seen.

“I’m annoyed at you.” Fred’s taken aback, he tries to think back at their interaction the evening before, trying to piece together anything that would annoy Y/N but he’s coming up blank.

“What did I do?” He wearily asks and when Y/N purses her lips together and looks like she’s about to cry Fred has to resist the urge to apologise without knowing what he needs to apologise for.

“I’m annoyed at you because,” she pauses and takes a shaky breath, “I’m annoyed because I went on a date last night. I went on a date with the loveliest man I’ve ever met. And I spent the whole fucking time wishing I was on a date with you. And I’ve spent all of today debating coming over here and telling you that so I drank half of Em’s bottle of wine for some liquid courage and here I fucking am!”

That’s the last thing Fred was expecting to come out of Y/N’s mouth. “Well, that’s not-”

“I’m not finished.” She stares at Fred and he immediately shuts up.

“I’ve been in love with you for years and it’s not fair on me anymore, Freddie.” Her voice is shaking like she needs to get everything out as soon as possible. “I need to know if you feel anything for me, even in the slightest, because if I need to move on, I’m begging you to be honest with me.”

Fred feels his heartbreak at how sweet, how broken, how defeated Y/N looked standing in front of him right now. He can see the need for an honest answer swimming in Y/N’s eyes and he’s never felt braver to admit his feelings than he does right now.

“I’m an idiot,” Y/N scoffs but lets him continue, “because I didn’t realise how fucking in love with you I am until I almost lost you. I thought…” he pauses, looking for the right words and when his eyes meet Y/N’s, there’s a softness there that wasn’t there previously. “I thought what we had was normal; the cuddling, the constant need to be with each other, the constant subtle touches. But George knocked some sense into me.” Y/N lets out a breath as she laughs, of course, it was George’s doing.

“I’m in love with you, and I think I have been since we were 17. So I’m so fucking sorry, for ever letting you think you meant any less to me, my love.”

Y/N’s eyes are overflowing with tears at his words and Fred panics for a second before he sees the biggest and most loving smile overtake Y/N’s face. “Fucking hell, you big dummy.”

She crosses the room, quicker than she’s ever moved before and pulls Fred’s 6’3 frame into her arms. She feels Fred pull her away, only slightly, so he can look down into her eyes and cup her cheek with his hand. His thumb is providing comfort as it strokes across her cheek and wiping away any stray tears.

She cups the outside of his hand with her own and brings her face to the side to kiss his palm. This is the closest the two have ever been and both their hearts feel like they could beat out of their chests at any moment. It’s the adrenaline from this moment that causes Fred to blurt out his next question, without any hesitation.

“Can I please kiss you before I die?”

Y/N laughs as she looks up at Fred. She doesn’t even give him an answer, she just pulls the tall boy down before locking their lips together. They’ve both kissed plenty of people, had many first kisses whether it be with first dates or partners but they can both agree this is the best kiss either of them has ever experienced.

Y/N is pouring everything she can into the kiss, knowing she will never get tired of the taste of caramel that she will forever associate with kissing the love of her life. She presses her lips harder against his, her tongue running along Fred’s chapped lips asking for more before he opens his mouth to massage his tongue with hers.

Fred decides to be a tease, pulling back slightly before capturing her lips again and biting her bottom lip slightly. This action pulls a moan from Y/N’s throat, soft enough that Fred almost misses it but he can’t help but smirk into the kiss. He wants nothing more than to kiss Y/N for the rest of his life, but eventually, he has to pull away to catch his breath and the whine that leaves Y/N’s mouth might be the cutest sound he’s ever heard in his life.

“I hope to God you know I’m never letting you kiss anyone else ever again, holy shit,” she says, cheeks flushed red and when she looks at Fred she thinks she’s fallen even further in love with him. His hair’s messy, thanks to her running her hands through it and his lips are slightly swollen. She thinks this might be the most beautiful she’s ever seen Fred in her life and if this is how gorgeous he looks after a few minutes of kissing, she’s secretly anticipating how gorgeous he’s going to look laying in her bed, naked.

Fred smiles dopily down at her, “Don’t worry darling, I never want to be with someone who isn’t you ever again.”

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley #fae writes

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palettepainter · 3 years ago

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How the teachers play favourites

We all know Aizawa and All Might have their favourite UA child, Shinsou and Midoryia. And yeah I know Bakugo and Todoroki are also their UA kids but shhh, Midoryia and Shinsou where the first UA kids they adopted.

And you can’t tell me Aizawa and All Might play favourites with them, All makes Deku lunch like..hello?? Aizawa gave Shinsou his capture weapon, HELLO??

So here are some dumb headcannons for how the other teachers play favourites to their UA kids

Ectoplasm and his UA kid Jiro:

-When he gives back marked tests he’ll sometimes write small encouraging notes for his students to read, he does this to some students when he feels they need a pick up but he always leaves a positive one on Jiro’s

-During lessons where students are allowed to study in the lesson Ectoplasm lets them listen to music on their phones, everyone thought he would say no so everyone - mostly Kaminari and Mineta - peer pressured Jiro to ask. To no ones shock except Jiro’s Ectoplasm replied with a calm “Sure, but only if you use your headphones”

-Jiro talks about new songs that have been released and Ectoplasm will listen to her geek out about music

-Sometimes Jiro will tell Ectoplasm what her and the rest of the band (herself, Kaminari, Momo, Tokoyami and Bakugo) have been doing and if they’re working on any new songs in-between their studies. Jiro jokes that Ectoplasm is their biggest fan but Ecto is genuinely supportive of their band and admires their creativity

-Jiro once entered maths class and said “Hey miter Ecto, what’s shakin’ bacon?” and while the whole class was stood there in silence thinking Ectoplasm wouldn’t reply he said “Not much double dutch” and then Jiro went to her desk as thought nothing out of the ordinary happened. Kaminari tried to do the same thing to him and Ectoplasm just went “Kaminari your shoe lace is undone-” Jiro was very amused

Powerloader and Hatsume:

-This one started out more like this - Powerloader: Who’s idiot kid is that?....*realises it’s Hatsume* Oh shit- THAT’S MY IDIOT KID-

-Hatsume showed up at the design studio and never left basically, so Powerloader got used to her. He knows Hatsume overworkers herself so he keeps spare energy bars, fruit and bags of crisps in the design studio. He brought a small microwave and kettle for the winter so Hatsume could make hot drinks and food since she insisted on finishing her ‘babies’

-Say’s he doesn’t worry but still insists she goes to recovery girl when she gets a scratch or blows up the studio, sometimes dragging her there himself, ranting all the way about how she’s an idiot. One day Hatsume ended up breaking her leg during a bad explosion and Powerloader very nearly had a heart attack-

He kept a close eye on her while she worked from a wheelchair at her desk

-Makes her wear a god forsaken jumper in the winter when the design studio is freezing, stupid dumb teenager you’ll catch your death of cold

Present Mic and Kaminari:

-This man is shameless with playing favourites

-He greets Kaminari with his signature finger guns and an enthusiastic “AAAYYYY KAMINARI!” Kaminari shoots finger guns back with an “Ayyyyy teach hozit hanging?!” Everyone in class knows Kaminari is a teachers pet despite how Kaminari insists he’s not

-Mic knows Kaminari has a crush on Jiro and Kaminari is an embaressed child who is like “omg msiter Mic STOP-” while Present Mic is coeing and being all like “Aw that’s adorable!”. He always puts Jiro and Kaminari together in group projects, Kaminari shoots him a flustered glare cuz Present Mic knows what he’s doing

-Kaminari teaches him meme/slang language for laughs and everyone in class hates it, Kaminari finds it hilarious. Eventually Mic gets the hang of it but he sucked at using the language correctly at first

-Calls him lil listener and Kaminari calls him loud mouth

Midnight and Yaoyorozu

-Another teacher who is shameless with playing favourites

-Midnight being a teacher does have to enforce the dress code if she sees a student wearing their uniform incorrectly - loose tie, untucked shirt, odd brightly coloured socks, chockes, etc. Midnight really doesn’t care all that much if a student’s socks aren’t the sae colour as their shoes...buuut she’s a teacher so she has to enforce it. Except when it comes to Yaoyorozu. Yaoyorozu one day had to wear light blue socks into UA as her tights where damaged, and she was worried she’d be called out for not following the dress code. Midnight saw, and turned a blind eye. She was in the middle of telling someone off for not dressing correctly, saw Yaoyorozu with the odd coloured socks and went “-Oh hello Yaoyorozu you have a good day sweetheart! ^^”

-Always complients Yaoyorozu when she comes into class. Oooo did you try a new hair style? Honey it suits you! New note book, such cursive hand writting! Glad to see you got those new pair of shoes, trying a different shoe brand this time? Very stylish!

-Had been tempted to kick Mineta like a beech ball on more then one occasion when he wouldn’t back off from Yaoyorozu

-The kind of teacher to say “I taught her that~” when Yaoyorozu uses one of her combat techniques

-Girl gossip. She tries to guess who Yaoyorozu will get with, meanwhile Momo is just blushing and blabbering because that isn’t very appropriate for history work. Midnight bats a hand is like “Pft I’m the teacher I can gossip in my own lesson”. Puts her with Todoroki during group projects and she, like Mic, 100% knows what she’s doing

Hounddog and Shishida

-Hounddog: I am not soft....*holds up Shishida* EXCEPT FOR MY 1B CHILD WHO IS VERY STRONG AND HE’S GOING TO BE A HERO DON’T @ ME HE’S AMAZING-

-Encourages Shishida to let loose with his beast form, with his rish upbringing Shishida isn’t used to embracing his more wild and uncaring side, having been raised to always be propper and polite when not in combat. Hounddog geuenily puts in effort to be a little less grumbly around Shishida cuz he doesn’t wanna peer pressure him, he’s giving him time

-Keeps a spare cloth so Shishida can clean his glasses off when and if they get dirty from training

-I imagine Shishida having a quirk called beast and having a more posh upbringing prolly has a little bit of anxiety, having to always be polite and propper even with a quirk called Beast. Sometimes he vents to Hounddog about this and he listens, insisting that it’s better Shishida get it off his chest when he apologises for drowning on

-During training Hounddog basically throws him about like a beanie bag at first, Shishida was still a kid and Hounddog had years of experience. The day Shishida finally knocked him down with a hard punch to the side of Hounddog’s face he felt...bad. But Hounddog was beaming! Shishida may have cried a little bit

Snipe and Hagakure (picked hagakure inspired by a suggestion @snipe-enthusiast made a while ago)

- Protective af

-Hagakure screams the innocent dorky girl of 1A, and thought Snipe makes sure none of the girls deal with Mineta’s bull while he’s around he’s especially protective of Hagakure just cuz...well, have you seen the way she acts? She’s innocent, peppy, happy, cheerful, and Snipe does not want that tainted by Mineta’s preverted ways

-After the exam with Hagakure and Shoji Snipe apologized for what happened and so did Hagakure, admitting that she over-reacted.

-Hagakure admits one day to Snipe that she’s worried she won’t make it as a hero cuz her quirk isn’t flashy like her classmates. Snipe reassures her by saying that no one thought he could be a hero when he was little (this headcannon was inspired by @frelmidja and a post this did with Snipe) - guns weren’t exactly considered heroic and he got teased in the beginning when his quirk first activated. He told Hagakure to keep working hard and that she had the potential and the drive to be a hero, Hagakure was very thankful for the reassurance

-Hagakure really wants to see what Snipe’s face is like and constantly asks him if he could take his mask off and show them, Snipe has yet to break and take off his mask but Hagakure is very persistant

Cementoss and Bondo

-Chill babies, they sit and have tea together.

-I imagine Bondo to be the kind of person to accidentally call Cementoss dad, it happened once during one on one training and he got so embarrassed. Cementoss kept telling him it was fine but Bondo left in a hurry after

-Bondo tried to make certian shapes out of his glue one time but ended up getting himself stuck, Cementoss helped him out and reassured a disheartened Bondo that everyone makes mistakes and that he was progressing well

-Being one of the taller boys in 1B he often has to hold back Monoma from going over to 1A when Kendo isn’t around, often tries to diffuse conflict before it gets worse, Cementoss is very proud

-After one on one training the two go to the lunch hall to get a hot drink after cleaning themselves up, Bondo tries to bring a different type of tea sweet each time - something like biscuits or chocolate. Cementoss returns the favour by bringing Bondo manju to have after his training

Thirteen + Gunhead and Uraraka

-Proud mum and dad because I couldn’t decide between the two

-Uraraka researches into the affects of zero gravity and how to better use her power, due to this she’s become a bit of a space nut and enjoys thinks like star gazing. When she was a kid and saw Pro Hro Thirteen on the TV she was ecstatic! Her parents brought her a Pro Hero Thirteen plush on her seventh birthday, Uraraka still has that toy. One day the toy got misplaced in the students washing and got mixed up with the teachers, Thirteen was a bit confused why a plush of her - and a well loved one by how old it looked - ended up in the wash. Uraraka hurridly rushes over to explain when Thirteen comes into the students dorms asking if it belonged to anyone. When Uraraka explained she got it when she was younger cuz she’s a big fan of Thirteen...heart squeeze

-Asked Uraraka if she could teach her the gunhead martial arts move, Uraraka was so honored she got to teach one of her idols a combat move! Through the gunhead martial arts move Thirteen met Gunhead and the two become good friends

-One day when Gunhead is teaching Thirteen the martial arts move with Uraraka to help demonstrate Uraraka wanted to take a picture of them all together. Gunhead was too tall to fit into the picture so he kneeled down to be at the same height as Thirteen and Uraraka (he did bunny ears behind Thirteen’s head and Uraraka thought it was adorable)

-Gunhead pretty much puts two and two together with Uraraka having a crush on Midoryia, so one day when Thirteen mentions in passing conversation how giddy Uraraka gets when she’s around this one green haired kid Gunhead just chuckles behind his hand. Thirteen and Gunhead think it’s very sweet how Uraraka totally has a crush on him (unlike Mic and Midnight thoug they don’t force anything and let Uraraka figure things out on her own)

#MHA #MHA UA #UA Teachers #Teachers #Ectoplasm #Snipe #Midnight #Mic #Present Mic #Thirteen #Gunhead #Students #UA child #headcannons

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tootiredmotel · 3 years ago

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Our Mark Sheppard photo op!

So Adry (@stressedtaco) and I met Mark Sheppard at PRCC yesterday while cosplaying as Dean and Cas, and it was.. a ride. Storytime and pics under the cut! (Ok to reblog!)

Let me start off by saying we got so much more than our money's worth with this con. It was incredibly surreal and fun and wonderful and we'll remember it forever.

At PRCC it's very rare that we get big name guests, and we've actually never had anyone from spn visit. Mark was the first. Even before he was announced, Adry and I had planned to meet at the con and cosplay Dean (her) and Cas (me). Mark being a guest was the most amazing cherry on top.

Right before our photo ops was the Q&A with him, and we both got to ask him questions! He roasted me for cosplaying Cas and it was hilarious. (Video of the full panel, and our part is at 57:10)

Afterwards, we're in line together for the photo ops. It was announced early on that they would only allow one person per op, so we'd each bought our own. I walk in first, and it goes something like this:

Mark, recognizing me from the panel, deadpan: "Terrible costume."

Me, genuinely: "Thanks!" :D

[Pic is taken]

Photographer: "Can we reshoot that?"

Me, confused but gladly: "Yeah!"

[Second pic is taken]

Me, to Mark: "Thank you, and thanks so much for coming!"

Mark: "Of course my darling, thank you."

Me: is dead now

I walk out, and it's Adry's turn:

Adry: "Can I stand on your other side? I want the handprint to show." (She's a genius)

Mark: "Sure!”

[Pic is taken]

Adry thanks him, but they're already bringing the next person in, so Mark only smiles and nods.

We stand in line to get our prints. Two of mine come out, turns out my eyes were closed on the first but the photographer caught it in time. This is the good one:

But then Adry's print doesn't show up.

We wait a few batches, and nothing. The photo op line empties out. The con employee knows what's up, keeps an eye out for us, is actively looking for Adry's pic with every batch that's handed to him. At some point the photographer walks out and starts helping with print handouts. The last batch of people get their prints, and we're still waiting by the table. No Adry pic.

We start joking that the pic got lost. "Imagine I have to take another one," Adry muses. "I could ask to bring you in with me and take it together!" We laugh it off.

A line forms for the next guest doing photo ops. Mark is still behind the curtain though, we can hear him and kinda see him. The photographer is the one who finally walks out with Adry's pic! But she has her eyes closed. We both brighten up because what are the fucking odds! The photographer utters the magic words once again: "Can we retake this?"

And then Adry and I have our lightbulb moment.

"Could we take it together?" Adry asks. My hopes aren't very high because of the rules that it can be only one person per op, but Adry seems a bit more optimistic. She's right to be.

Photographer contemplates for like, half a second. He's an absolute sport. "Yeah, sure!"

We both go back behind the curtain and we're shaking with excitement. We have no idea what to do because we never thought we'd get this chance. We have like 15 seconds to frantically discuss while Mark talks to a con employee. Adry, being a genius again, proposes: "you two should fight over Dean" (so, her).

Mark turns around.

Me, to both Mark and the photographer who's getting into position: "Hi! So, sorry for this—"

Mark: "It's no problem."

Me: "We were thinking, could you and I fight over Dean?" (pointing to Adry)

Mark: "I wouldn't fight over Dean. I wouldn't fight over him."

Me: "Yeah ok, that's fair." (Who am I to contest his majesty)

Adry, jokingly: “Daaamn, my heart..”

Mark, after chuckling at Adry’s comment: "What we could do is, you can reach for Dean, and I can try to stop you."

Adry and I, recognizing the absolute galaxy brain of that: "Yeah!"

[Pic is taken]

Adry, spotting her chance: “Thank you so much, Mark.”

Mark: “Thank you, darling.”

Adry: is now also dead

And that, our dear friends, is how this beauty was born:

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rebeccccccaaa · 4 years ago

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🄰🄳🄳🄸🄲🅃🄴🄳

_______________________

🄱🅄🄲🄺🅈 🄱🄰🅁🄽🄴🅂 🅇 🅁🄴🄰🄳🄴🅁

🅁🄴🅀🅄🄴🅂🅃: (ANON) hi! can you do a bucky x reader where they’re at a gala and the team has a mini after party (like AoU) and they’re playing cards against humanity or something dumb like that and bucky can’t keep his hands off of Y/n? maybe a lil smut if you’re up for it hehe. you’re the best !

🅆🄰🅁🄽🄸🄽🄶🅂: Smut 18+ (duh lol), Bathroom sex, horny Bucky, slight dacryphilia, Cw: light asphyxiation (in case anyone gets triggered here’s a small content warning)

🄰🅄🅃🄷🄾🅁'🅂 🄽🄾🅃🄴: dude I looove this omgg thanks for the request babes ;)

_______________________

“Alright, alright! Settle down, guys,” Nat shouted over the laughter.

“Ok next card. ‘Blank’: kid-tested, mother-approved,” she read off a black card.

“Which one, babe?” You and Bucky were a team; you sat on his lap insisted by the man himself.

“That one,” he pointed to the card you also had your eye on. You placed in the pile face down and waited for the other who snickered and giggled under their breaths believing they had the funniest card.

“Ok ready?”

“Whoo!” everyone cheered.

“Ok, we have Dead parents: kid-tested, mother-approved; oh my god,” Nat laughed, as did others.

“This groovy new thing called LSD: kid-tested, mother-approved,” everyone laughed out loud with that one.

“A snapping turtle biting the tip of your penis: kid-tested, mother-approved!”

“Water: kid-tested, mother-approved.”

“That one’s boring!” Sam shouted.

“Hey, be nice; that might be Steve’s. He still doesn’t understand the game,” you joked, making Steve rolling his eyes; it was in fact his card.

“And lastly, My inner demons: kid-tested, mother-approved, I just know this one’s Tony’s,” Nat read off the last card, making Tony get really defensive because it was his.

“Hmm, this is a good one,” she thought.

“I think I’m gonna go with the LSD,” Nat said, making you and Bucky cheer.

“Awe man, you guys are good,” Sam threw his cards.

“Alright! I’m dealing now,” you said grabbing the deck of white cards. While you distributed the white cards again to the rest of the players, Bucky couldn’t keep his hands off you. Having you sit on his lap let him get away with a lot of things you two should be doing in private.

Ever since you two had gotten together, he was absolutely addicted to you. He wasn’t a sex addict, especially before your relationship; he hardly ever gotten intamite before. But with you he needed you in some way almost everyday. he addicted to you.

When you two had sex for the first time, Bucky couldn’t stop cuddling you afterwards. You tried to shower and Bucky followed you in and washed your body for you. You went to put some clothes but he just pulled you in bed, kissing your neck with arms wrapped around you tightly.

Since then he practically couldn’t keep his hands off you. This had been the most sexually active you’d ever been in a relationship. And you didn’t mind too much if you were being honest. He was insatiable and you were more than willing to feed his desperate appetite; it made you feel desired.

“Get a room you two,” Tony mocked.

“I would if my girl didn’t keep insisting on playing with you buffoons,” Bucky growled.

“Baby, be nice,” you warned.

You pulled a black card and hesitantly everyone put a white card in a pile for you to read. These particular answers got really dark and really funny to the point where you were squirming in Bucky’s lap but he too was laughing so hard.

“Oh my god! You guys I have pee,” you squealed.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” you jumped from Bucky’s lap.

You made your way to the guest bathroom since it was the closest. When you finished washing your hands but in between that you heard the door open ever so quietly, but your instincts alerted you.

You turned to the small halfway that led into the stall and waited for what could possibly be Wanda or Nat. You waited longer than you’d accept and ultimately turned back the mirror immediately startled by a large figure standing beside you.

“Bucky!” you shrieked.

“Sorry, doll,” he gave you a toothy grin.

“What are you doing in the ladies’ room?” you turned to face him fully.

“Got a couple minutes? They won’t suspect a thing,” bucky leaned down to kiss your neck.

“Are you serious?” you laughed.

“Come on, baby. Please,” BUcky’s hips pressed into yours and you could feel his hard cock poking through his pants.

“Bucky, you’re addicted.”

“With an ass like that, how can resist. You’re perfect,” Bucky said cheekily.

He held your jaw and kissed you quite messily, urgency not forgotten. Your hands snaked up to curl into his long beautiful locks. He spun you around and your hands hit the mirror in front of you.

Your hips dug into the marble counter of the bathroom as Bucky’s hands trailed up and under your shirt; rubbing your bare skin. He quickly unzipped his pants pulling and stroking his cock.

“Can’t fucking stay away from you, babygirl,” Bucky moaned in your ear.

He pulled your pants down along with your panties and used his metal fingers to rub against your pussy, moving around the wetness that is coming out of you quickly.

“Bucky please,” you whined.

“What baby? What is it?” he cooed.

“Bucky, fuck me,” you whimpered, moving your hips back to grind against his cock.

“You got it, my love,” he whispered.

Bucky thrusted hard into you making your body repel forward. You were sure there’d be bruises from the hard marble table digging into your hips. You looked in the mirror to see Bucky’s stern expression as he thrusted in and out of you relentlessly.

You tried to moan quietly but the pleasure building up inside was getting overwhelming. Bucky moved his arm to cover your mouth and pulled against his chest.

Your breathing became heavy, going in and out through your nose sharply trying to keep your moans muffled behind Bucky’s hand. Bucky kept his eye trained on you still bucking his hips repeatedly.

“Fuck, doll. You always feel so warm wrapped around my cock. I can never get enough of this perfect little pussy; squeezing me all tight and shit, god, I’m gonna cum,” Bucky moaned.

With your mouth covered, all you could do was whimper and moan as best as you could. Your eyes filled with tears of pleasure and spilled down your face beautifully. Bucky almost came from the sight of you crying in pleasure alone; but he kept his composure, not for long of course.

“You gonna cum? I can feel you squeezing me,” Bucky slid his hand down your front to rub your clit and your entire body jerked against him, making Bucky chuckled mockingly.

You orgasmed violently against Bucky and he too reached his climax biting your shoulder to muffle his own loud moans and grunts. You leaned forward to catch yourself after Bucky released his firm hold on you.

“Fuck that was hot. Seeing you cry like that. Did I hurt you?” Bucky asked gently, helping you clean up.

“No that was awesome!” you giggled.

“What if someone came in?” you said once you felt decent.

“Just adds to the fun,” Bucky smirked.

“You’re crazy,” you pushed him lightly.

You two went back to the group hearing laughter from still playing the insanely hilarious card game.

“Finally you two! What’s the point in calling it a quickie if you guys are gonna take twenty minutes,” Nat mocked.

“Was it really that long?” you asked, shocked; no shame in trying to pretend like you both leaving after Bucky’s hands were all over was a ‘coincident’.

“Yeah kinda,” Tony spoke up.

“Damn, we’ll have to practice,” Bucky smacked your ass, making you roll your eyes.

“Damn, Buck you’re addicted to her,” Nat chuckled.

“Of course I am, look at her,” Bucky flaunted you, making you feel slightly shy under the attention.

“Come on guys let’s keep playing!” Wanda shouted, clearly tipsy.

You sat down next to Nat and Bucky sat at your side still holding your waist lovingly.

“You know,” Nat whispered to you, “As much of a sex addict you turned him into, he’s so in love with you. Head over his fucking heels, babe.”

“I know, and I love him too,” you smiled looking at Bucky.

Taglist!

@mathletemadison

if you want to be added for all my upcoming works and series or just one specific person send me an ask!! or message me! 🥰

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #bucky fluff #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x female reader #marvel smut

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loving-all-for-loki · 3 years ago

Note

Your writing is so wonderful! Could I maybe request something comforting? I’m currently recovering from a surgery to repair my foot with bone anchors and I’ll be bed ridden for 6 weeks. Maybe something with Loki being very supportive and caring for the reader 24/7, moving into her room etc. and the team are just surprised at how helpful he’s being to her. 🤗.

A/N: I’m sorry if I posted this at a weird time, but I have the next chapter to my series Voiceless Love coming out and I wanted to give this fic some time to be seen before that got posted. It’s also a little short, but I felt like this was perfect as a short and sweet fic, instead of a 2k+ story, haha. Also, I know it isn’t 100% exactly what you wanted, but I get stuck with one idea and run with it, oops. I hope you are getting better with your foot. That stinks so much and I’ve been there with my own ankle injuries. If you have any requests for some fics while you recover, send them my way! I always need some inspo and if I can give you some entertainment during your recovery, that would be great. Now, read this, get some sleep, and drink some water. I hope you heal nicely <3

Lucky

Loki x reader

Word count: 1533

Warnings: Pure fluff, just fluff, fluffiness, maybe a bit of sexualizing Loki (I couldn’t help myself)

Seeing your friends carrying big heavy boxes for you swells your heart. It’s also hilarious to see Thor actually struggling to carry something. Tony finds it amusing too given that he’s not doing any of the work but it’s sipping mimosas next to you. Thor grumbles about getting all the heavy boxes, but you also know Sam and Bucky purposely avoid the big ones.

If someone were to tell you ten years ago that you’d be saved from getting tortured by Hydra and become an Avenger, you’d tell them they’re delusional, but this is your life. Even after years of torture and pain, you considered yourself lucky. You could have been the new Soldat, ruined over and over again to be a war machine, but now you’re a trained assassin like Bucky and Nat with a broken leg.

You lean yourself against a wall in your room with your crutches beside you (along with Tony, of course, that lazy bum). Steve, Bucky, and Thor are carrying in boxes while Sam, Nat, and Peter help unpack some things. Today is the day you officially move into the tower with the rest of your teammates and due to your current disability, the other avengers offered to help you. Another reason why you consider yourself lucky.

Peter is by far the most adorable on the team. He’s fully unpacking for you, even arranging the frames on your shelves and the organizers on your desk. He at point made your bed when Steve brought in your blankets and sheets. Bucky has been super sweet, too, giving you funny looks every time he passes by and asking where the best spot for the box he is carrying to go.

But the one “avenger” you didn’t expect to be as helpful as he is, is Loki. The others told him to move out of the way, not wanting his condescending attitude to ruin the fun day, but Loki started to carry boxes in as well. The first time, the avengers were stunned by him, but then they were gracious because he used his magic to transport them, making the job go by quicker. Loki just stands at the bottom of the truck outside and wipes his hand over each cardboard box, sending it to your room.

You really are lucky.

Two days pass by and you decide to ignore your laziness and finally unpack the rest of your boxes. You attempt to push some photo boxes on the top of your shelves, but you find yourself stretching so hard to reach the top. Your foot injury really is stupid and you just want to be able to normal walk, or jump, or even go on your tip toes.

Then you hear a sly chuckle coming from behind you. You let out a frustrated sign knowing exactly who it is.

“Loki, if you’re going to stand there and laugh at me, could you least help me and laugh at me?”

“Of course, darling.” He jokes.

He comes up behind you and takes the box from your struggling fingertips and carefully paces it on top of the shelf.

“Is there anything else you helpless being needs help with?”

“I could use help with hanging my window curtains.”

You point to the box in the corner with your large sheer curtains folded in them. He chuckles and goes over the box, carefully picking them up and hanging them on the frame. You can’t help but notice his figure as he hangs them. He is a marvelous being and who are you to deny your eyes of such a sight?

The sight in front of you proved that you are lucky

Tony gathers the group for a game night and it results in everyone becoming drunk and children. At some point, it becomes a truth or drink game night and everyone has their poison. You have your legs laid over Loki’s lap, who was really hard to convince to join the game, and a bottle of Smirnoff Ice in your hand, only because Tony didn’t have anything else. Loki’s slowly running his fingers over your legs, but higher than your cast.

“Okay, Steve,” Natasha coos, “your turn. Have you ever done drugs?”

“I did marijuana in high school once.”

The whole team gasps and whistles at his answer.

“Captain ain’t so wholesome, now, is he?” Sam cackles.

“I remember that night,” Bucky laughs, “You were so high.”

Steve chuckles and nods his head before looking to see you cuddled up next to Loki and gets a wicked idea.

“Loki, you’ve been quiet. Your turn.”

“Please no, I’m beyond your little games.”

“Aw come on, brother! One question won’t hurt you,” Thor laughs.

“Who in this room would ever kiss?”

Tony whistles and takes a sip of his drink as everyone else laughs. You can feel the ice giant get slightly warm out of embarrassment. His face is flushed with a rose pink color as you get nervous, lightly chuckling to himself.

“I uh…”

“Answer it. Answer it. Answer it.” Sam chants.

Everyone chuckles at the clear uncomfortableness of the god, not seeing him like this often.

“Y/N.” He whispers, almost too quiet for you to even hear.

“Louder, brother. I couldn’t hear you,” Thor says innocently.

“Y/N.”

You smile up at Loki in shock. He won’t look down to meet your eyes but stares straight out the window past Tony. The entire team cheers and chuckles.

“Oh, we’re never letting that one down.”

“How lucky am I?” You laugh.

You attempt to cook yourself some lunch but your stupid cast is getting in the way of moving around. It’s getting tiring to pick up your crutches every time you need a tool two feet away from you. Letting out a frustrated sigh, you hit the edge of the counter with the spatula in your hand.

“What is wrong, dearest?”

You turn your head to see Loki standing behind you with a concerned look on his face, this time not here to make fun of you.

“I’m tired of my stupid foot getting in the way of doing normal activities.”

“Darling, sit down. I’ll make lunch for you.”

“Loki, you really-”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.”

Loki picks you up and sets you down on the couch while also handing you the remote. He goes to the kitchen and attempts to resume your lunch.

“Sweetest, what are you cooking?”

You laugh really hard at his confusion.

“Fajitas.”

“What are those?”

“See Loki, it’s fine! You really don’t have to.”

“And I’m not going to. I’ll make Stark do it.”

Loki orders JARVIS to get Tony and finish making lunch for you. You laugh and shake your head at Loki as he sits down beside you on the couch. He starts to run his fingers through your hair but keeps getting caught in the tangles.

“Why is your hair like this?”

“It’s hard to do anything while standing up. I can barely brush my teeth without falling over.”

“Well, it looks like I’ll do that for you, too.”

“Loki, I swear if you-”

“No point in arguing. I’m going to assist you.”

You rolls your eyes at the cocky god as he smiles at you. Nuzzling your head into his neck, Loki holds you tightly in an embrace. Tony comes in to see you two cuddling and shakes his head.

“You are so lucky we love you.”

You wake up the next day to see Loki sleeping beside you on your bed. You try to remember anything that happened last night, but you were so tired, nothing comes to mind. If you didn’t have a broken foot, you would be concerned about waking up next to a god, but you also know he wouldn’t have done anything with your injury. He’s too kind (much to some disbelief).

“Good morning, darling.”

Loki leans over to you and kisses you on the forehead. He wasn’t as asleep as you thought he was, but you’re not complaining. Waking up beside this adonis isn’t the worst way to spend a morning.

“Good morning.”

“I don’t care what you say,” Loki smiles, brushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, “you’re staying in bed and I’m waiting on you.”

“That’s very sweet. Thank you.”

“I’m glad someone learned something last night.”

“Actually, I don’t remember a lot from last night. I was tired.”

“We bickered about me waiting on you, hand and foot.”

“Hmm, that sounds about right.”

“So, today I’m treating you like a proper princess.”

“Does that mean we’re together?”

Loki looks at you confused, but his face lights up when he realizes what you’re implying.

“I suppose so. In that case, my princess, I will wait on you.”

You watched as the god all day served you lunch and dinner. He brushed your hair and teeth. Helped you change clothes. Played your music to cheer you up. Even carried you to the bathroom when you had to go.

Thinking about all the things your friends have done for you and all of the things that Loki, your prince, has done, all you can say is how lucky you are.

#loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki fan fiction #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader #loki x reader fluff #loki oneshot #marvel x reader #anonrequest #lovingallforloki

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batsandbugs · 4 years ago

Text

The Great IKEA Game

Chapter 3: Food Court Shenanigans

AN: Well, it’s two months later, but I’m finally back! Enjoy!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Cautiously they snuck around from display to display - hiding their cloth robins in increasingly creative places, on a corkboard, with a dining set, on a fake bird. It became somewhat of a competition to find the best place within the display room.

They remained serious in their mission at first, but soon conversation flowed. Snide comments about passing customers, little anecdotes - Damian’s humor was hilarious once you understood his sarcasm and pointed edges were just a defense mechanism (it reminded her of Chloe)- and joking around. Well, as much as they could be, being on the lookout for his older brothers.

Over an hour they hid over thirty birds, changed outfits twice, spotted Jason another time, which resulted in Damian diving behind some fake curtains while Marinette tried not to drool over a butcher-block table perfect for a sewing room (but which was way too expensive).

“Coast is clear,” Marinette called, once Jason once again disappeared. Damian slid out from behind the curtain and joined her by the table.

“This is nice,” he said. “But I like the dark oak better.” He pointed to the options available, and Marinette had to agree.

“Yeah, but my cabinets are light brown. Not that I need this or can afford it for that matter. I didn’t have a proper workstation even when I was in Paris.”

“Why not?”

“No room. My parents had the bakery downstairs, then they lived on the second floor. I lived in a converted attic, which was great - I even had a balcony, but my computer desk took up a lot of room.” She shrugged a little self-consciously. “Besides, my projects always ended up splayed all over the floor, anyway.”

“That’s fair,” he said with a small nod. He pulled out a map of the store, although Marinette couldn’t ever remember seeing ones to pick up. “We've neared the end of the showrooms - or at least the ones we placed calling cards in - once we enter the warehouse we’ll be out in the open. I’m sure one of my brothers are stationed there.”

“Question is do we want to leave calling cards on the shelves of the warehouse, or do we need to avoid them more?” Marinette asked.

Damian considered it for a moment, then shook his head. “We’ve still got several hours to go - open and bold moves now are an unnecessary risk. I would propose avoiding it altogether, but…” he trailed off.

“What?” she prompted. A loud rumbling sound erupted from her stomach, and Marinette instantly wanted to die. Damian bit his lip, holding off a small smile.

“Oh, laugh it up.” Marinette rolled her eyes, studiously ignoring the burning in her cheeks. “All I had to eat today was a pack of crackers.”

“I thought you might be hungry - you could go grab something to eat from the food court and take a break if you wanted?”

Marinette frowned. “But what about you? Aren’t you hungry?”

Damian waved her off. “Nothing I can’t handle. I’ve gone longer than a few hours without food before.” His eyes were hard and cold, opposite of the teasing glint that had been there a moment before. It sent a small shiver down Marinette’s spine. It was obvious to anyone - or maybe it was just her - that Damian had been through things.

But it didn’t sit right with her to head off to the safety of the food court and leave him alone and without food. While he had seemed perfectly capable of handling himself before she came along Marinette was very invested in how this turned out.

“How about I go grab both of us something to eat, come back here, and then we work on our next move from there?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Fine, if it makes you feel better.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek black wallet.

Marinette shook her head. “No, no, I can-”

He shoved a black metallic card into her hands; it weighed more than she thought it should.

“I insist.”

“I have money.”

“So do I.”

“I don’t need your charity.”

“It’s not–it’s… payment.”

“I’m doing this for fun.”

“I won’t take no for an answer.” He crossed his arms and glared. It might have worked. If Marinette had been someone else. But she had been subjected to both Chole and Kagami’s overprotective and stubborn glares for years. This was nothing in comparison.

“I can pay, it’s nothing.”

He rolled his eyes again. “You’re a college student, it’s not nothing. Take. The. Card.”

Marinette threw her hands in the air. “Fine, you stubborn man.” A brief smile overtook Damian’s features, and then he dove out of sight. She turned to leave.

“I’m a vegetarian," he called. "Nothing with meat. And the pin is 1914.”

“Okay, I’ll be back in fifteen.” Walking away with the card in hand, she felt a little guilty for not fighting more. She was the one who was hungry, and who had offered to get him food. He didn’t need to give her his card.

Sighing in fond exasperation, she left the end of the display rooms. The warehouse section was large with rows upon rows of metallic shelving covered in boxes, but the food court sat off to the side; easy to find. It was mildly busy for a weekend afternoon, so she quickly stood in line and figured out what to order.

As she placed her order, she thought for a moment about just buying everything with her card, and then returning it to Damian as if she used it. She had a sneaking suspicion he would see right through that. Even after years of being a superhero, she still sucked at lying directly to someone’s face.

She scrolled through her phone, enjoying the slight break off her feet when she heard a familiar-sounding voice.

“Damn it, I don’t see the demon spawn,” growled an irritated voice.

Jason.

It was only years of practiced eavesdropping that stilled Mariette’s head from turning toward voice. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Damian’s older brother running a hand through his two-toned hair. A slightly smaller, but no less attractive man stood next to him, frowning at his phone.

“His credit card just pinged; he can’t have left that quickly.”

Marinette felt herself grow completely still at the mention of the credit card.

‘I am so going to tell him, I told you so,’ she thought furiously in her mind. How the hell would she leave without looking suspicious?

A third man jogged up to the two. A little older than them, but still just as attractive.

'This entire family looks like they could be on the cover of a freaking magazine,’ grumbled the part of her mind that was not overtaken with panic.

“I just checked the perimeter. No sign of him. Are you sure the charge was for the food court, Timmy?”

The man with the phone rolled his eyes. “Yeah–It comes out as $8.32, IKEA Food Court, order number 177.”

“Order 177. Order 177. Your food is ready,” called out a server. They placed the food on the counter, and Marinette saw the men all turn in sync to where the order laid innocently on the counter.

Marinette felt her stomach rumble again but knew the food was out of her reach now. Sacrifices had to be made to win.

‘Damn, I was looking forward to those meatballs and fries.’ No. She had to get out of here without Damian’s brothers noticing anything suspicious. They walked over to the counter, probably to ask the server who had ordered the food and which way they had gone.

Shit. She didn’t have any time.

Tapping on her locked screen, she placed it up to her ear as if taking a call.

“Hey Chole, yeah, no good to hear from you…” She rose from the plastic picnic bench. Only a few minutes before had seemed like such a nice place to rest, now it mocked her. She strolled away from the food court calmly, knowing one wrong move and she would be found out.

She reached into her bag, still walking normally, and grabbed a small metallic ball. It had a green paw print on the front.

Now, this was an experiment she and the kwamis had worked on over the summer. With a little help from Max–not that he knew what it was for–they had siphoned off a bit of pure energy from the Kwami’s and placed it into a small metallic ball that could be activated in a time of need. Mostly when it wasn’t safe to transform. It wasn’t super powerful and, so far, they’d only managed it with Plagg and Tikki, but it was something.

‘A bit of bad luck to distract them,’ Marinette thought.

Now, strictly speaking, this wasn’t exactly what they had in mind when creating the little devices, but desperate times called for desperate measures and all that.

She pressed the small paw print–using a bit of her own energy to activate the device–and threw it on the ground, letting it roll. She continued to walk calmly, and by the time she reached the entrance back to the showrooms, a clatter of noise erupted behind her. She only let herself glance back for a second, watching as a mostly empty display shelf collapsed onto an empty forklift.

Marinette winced. Hopefully, nothing was too damaged.

Off to the side she saw multiple people had gotten into a traffic jam with their shopping carts, and… oh, everything had spilled out of one, and another looked like it had lost two wheels.

… okay, maybe the balls were a bit powerful.

Seeing she wasn’t being followed, she picked up her pace and made her way back to the showroom she’d left Damian at. Along the way, she saw multiple employees rushing toward the warehouse section. She felt a little bad for them, it would be a mess cleaning all this up, but it was her best shot at a clean escape.

After what felt like forever, but was just five minutes, she made it back to Damian’s hiding spot. Taking a moment to check her surroundings, she glanced around, not seeing any of Damian’s brothers. She breathed a small sigh of relief. She entered the showroom and ducked behind the counter.

“We need to go,” she whispered.

“Where’s the food?”

She shook her head. “Who cares about the food, we have bigger problems. Your brothers were waiting in ambush.” She shoved his credit card back at them. “They tracked your card.”

“Damn it,” Damian muttered.

She paused, thinking over the absurdity of the situation. “Who tracks their brother’s credit card?”

“People who want to win. What about you, Miss Disguises-in-your-purse?”

“They’ve come in handy multiple times.”

“Attention all IKEA customers be warned that aisles seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, and twenty are now closed because of potentially unsafe shelving units. We’re sorry for the inconvenience.”

Damian looked at her with a questioning glance, “Did you…?”

“I needed a distraction.”

“How… you know what… no, never mind.” He shook his head, but a small smile told Marinette it amused him.

“They’ll know you’re working with a partner if they get anything out of the server at the register. We need a better hiding spot.”

“Well, while you caused chaos, I figured out our next move.” He motioned her to follow him, and they crept along the floor to the back of the showroom. He moved aside a curtain to reveal an air conditioning grate big enough for both of them to crawl into. “The ventilation layout shows this running straight back to the loading docks, which have rooftop access. We can access another shaft which will take us back to the front of the store. I figured the long route would be safer than going the ground route.”

“Genius.” Said Marinette in amazement, although slightly wondering how on earth he got access to something like ventilation layouts.

“I am aware.”

“But how will we get it off the wall? I have a sewing kit, not a tool belt.”

Damian reached into his pocket and pulled something out.

“That’s a pen,” Marinette deadpanned.

“It’s a specially designed pen.” He grasped the top. “Avert your eyes.” Marinette glanced away, but then heard the sizzle of metal, and felt the warm rush of heat.

She looked. In Damian’s hand was a small laser, shaped like a pen, easily cutting through the metallic grate blocking off the air shaft.

“It’s a LASER?” Marinette whispered in a shriek. “You… just have a laser in your pocket.”

“Well, you apparently disabled four industrial shelving units with your mind.” He grabbed hold of the grate as it came loose and placed it behind the curtain.

“I didn’t disable four shelving units. Just one,” she paused, “and a forklift… and some shopping carts. Just enough to cause a distraction.”

“Whatever,” he rolled his eyes, but she could see the glee lurking beneath the surface. She couldn’t help the smile spreading across her own face. Something about Damian was infectiously fun and absurd. Marinette was reminded of her earlier days as a hero before the weight of the city fully settled on her shoulders. Back when fights were simple, and midnight patrols were racing across the Parisian rooftops–making the blood in her veins pound with the rhythm of her steps.

She missed it.

“Ladies, first,” Damian said, gesturing to the vent.

“Thanks.” She crawled in, beyond grateful she decided to wear pants that day. Damian crawled in right behind her and readjusted the curtain over the uncovered air shaft.

She grabbed her phone from her bag and turned on the light. Holding it and crawling was difficult, but it was better than crawling around in total darkness. It was times like this where she questioned the absolute insanity of her life.

She wouldn’t have it any other way, though. Tag List: (Closed, sorry!! I’m so glad you all like it though.)

@multplelifes @bluesimani @justhugefangirl @nik-nak-3@redscarlet95 @purplesundaze @incredulous-reader @k-poplunardreams @our-preciousss @blackmagicforever @vgirl-10123 @lozzybowe @wannajointhecrabcult @dast218 @chaotic-mess-of-a-life @fidget-eep @kawaiigiantjudgefish @queenmj10@tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff @crazylittlemunchkin @fandom-writer642 @nach0ava @ladybug-182 @sam-i-am-0222@spyofthenightcourt @how-to-fuction-properly@emotionalsupportginger @dreamykitty25 @tomanyfandomsonmy-mind @mystery-5-5 @theatreandcomicfreak @weird-pale-blonde-person @whatthechickenfriedfuck @myazael@pawsitivelymiraculous @urbanpineapplefarmer @karategirl119@consumeconstantly @hauntedstudent99 @ertyzeta @thornalchemist23 @iloveitwhen @animegirlweeb@byronsacademics @i-wanna-be-a-ninja @moonlitjiminie@iglowinggemma28 @constancetruggle @catgirlkittypryde @waffelyunsure @maskedpainter @lilkymilky @unhappyraspberry @avengerthewarrior @quotesandanime @tbehartoo @clumsy-owl-4178 @g-arya @chocolateherringtacofan @jalaluvsu @crazyrandomrebel @fatimaabbasrizvi @thenillabean @goblinwhoships @bluefyoto94 @nerinalith @loopingtangent @demonicbusiness @hecate-hallow @themcclan @tropestropestropes @paintedhope7

#damimari #damianette #daminette #maribat #maridami #damian x marinette #mlb crossover #marinette dupain-cheng x damian wayne #fanfic

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theclockworkmonk · 3 years ago

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Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 2

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Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

************

"They can't be serious…." Harry muttered in disbelief as he stared down at the very official-looking letter.

"Who's serious about what?" asked Ginny, stepping into their living room.

Harry jumped and quickly tried to hide the letter behind his back. "Nothing!" he squeaked.

He should have known better. Ginny got a mischievous glint in her eye and darted around him, trying to get at the letter. They spent a minute chasing around each other, but eventually Ginny faked him out into tripping over the coffee table, and she quickly snatched the letter out of his hand with a triumphant laugh, making Harry once again wonder if she wouldn't be even better at Seeker.

"Ooooo," Ginny sang dramatically as she saw the emblem at the top of the parchment, "an official statement from the Wizengamot! Have they come up with a new award to bestow on you?"

"No, it's even worse," mumbled Harry.

"Oh, well now I'm very interested," Ginny teased, "am I worthy to take a peek at such official correspondence between such important people?"

"Well, it actually concerns you too, Missy," said Harry, crossing his arms, "so go ahead."

"Hold on, let's see if I can get the right tone." Ginny cleared her throat, pointed her nose in the air, and continued in her haughtiest tone,

"To the esteemed Harry James Potter,

After consideration of your actions to serve and protect the Wizarding World of Great Britain, as well as the recent discovery of your lineage to the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, previously thought to be lost, it is with great honor and pleasure that we offer to restore your line to its former status by bestowing upon you one of the vacant Lordships!?"

Ginny dropped her character and her mouth gaped open in disbelief. "Along with the accompanying seat on the Wizengamot!" she finished quickly.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, and her face split into a wicked grin and Harry knew he would never hear the end of this.

Harry snatched the parchment back.

"Yeah, so in other words," he began before she could start getting her jokes in, "they're embarrassed by how many of their seats are still empty after half their members were thrown in prison or fled the country for being Death Eater collaborators, so they're once again trying to use me as their poster boy so they can look like they've turned over a new leaf. Except they clearly haven't, since they only deemed me 'worthy' after they found out which dead pure-bloods I'm descended from, so they're still the same navel-gazing, inbred aristocrats they've always been!"

By the time he was finished, he was shouting and he panted to catch his breath.

Ginny, however, still found the whole thing hilarious.

"Oh, it breaks my heart to see Lord Potter so displeased," she bowed low to him with a flourish of her hand. "Let me know if there's anything a lowly peasant like me can do to serve you."

"Yeah, yuck it up, Weasley," said Harry dryly, "Like I said, this affects you too."

She looked back up at him with a sardonic look. "How does your having to sit through long parliamentary bullshit have to do with me?"

"Well," said Harry, stepping toward her, "if I'm a Lord, that means that, if I ever get married one day—"

"Hypothetically speaking," said Ginny.

"Yes, then that hypothetical girl — whoever she might be — would become a Lady."

"Hmmm," hummed Ginny thoughtfully. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he snaked his arms around her waist. "So you think this is relevant to me because you're hoping to make me your Lady? That's mighty presumptive of you, Lord Potter."

"Well, I wouldn't say hoping," lied Harry. "It's just a logical possibility to consider, strictly because you're pure-blood, of course. But I'm still keeping my options open. After all, you know how much of a ladies man I am."

"Yes, of course. But you know…" said Ginny thoughtfully, tracing circles over Harry's chest with her finger, "'Lady Ginevra Potter….does have kind of a nice ring to it."

"Oh, but things would be expected of you, m'Lady," said Harry, "and you would definitely have to stop all that Quidditch nonsense. Such a vulgar and violent activity is beneath a woman of your standing."

"Oh, well, I guess that's settled, we have to break up," Ginny sighed, "We're just a part of two different worlds."

"I'll always remember you," said Harry romantically, "but alas, I must kiss you goodbye."

He bent down and gave her a kiss, then they broke apart as they cracked up into laughter.

"Come on, I'm not going to let anyone call me a Lord," said Harry, rolling his eyes, "and obviously I'm not actually going to sit on the bloody Wizengamot. Those seats are transferable, so I can give it to someone who will actually know what they're doing. My first instinct is your dad, but he probably won't want it either, and they'll do anything to get him off again. Andromeda would probably feel at home there, but could do some good. Or maybe McGonagall."

Ginny groaned. "You can be so boring sometimes, you know that? You have a chance to put Luna in a position of power, that would drive them insane! Oh, or how about Aberforth, that would be hilarious!"

Harry laughed. "We're not all agents of chaos like you, Gin. I swear, sometimes I think you're Eris in disguise."

"Oh, you think I'm a goddess?" Ginny flirted, "then I guess you better worship me."

"Hmmm," Harry kissed her again, but then sighed and pulled back. "Sadly, there's no time for that, we're already running late for dinner at the Burrow."

"Alright, should we go together or do you want to keep up the pretense that we're actually living in different flats?" she asked him pointedly.

He gave a weak, embarrassed smile. "I know it's ridiculous, and I might be a coward, I've just managed to escape your mother's disapproving stare so far in my life, I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible."

Ginny rolled her eyes but led him by the hand out the door of their flat, past the wards they had put up. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, and turned on the spot, feeling the squeeze of Disapparition.

*********************

"Come on!" urged Ron, "I'm hungry!"

"What else is new?" laughed Hermione, as she finished a letter she needed to send and tied it to Pig. After she sent the little owl on his way, she turned around to see her fiance standing by the fireplace, bouncing on his feet like a child on Christmas morning.

"Honestly Ron," said Hermione, shaking her head, "one would think you haven't eaten in a week, and there's no way that your mother even has dinner ready yet."

"Yes, but her pre-dinner scones should be coming out of the oven right now!" said Ron cleverly, "And I might as well have not eaten in a week, don't pretend like I'm the only one who's sick of our sad attempts at cooking."

"Alright, alright!" said Hermione. She joined him by the fireplace, threw some floo powder into the grate, and together they stepped into the green flames.

"THE BURROW!" Ron shouted clearly, and after the spinning sensation and flashes of various fireplaces, they stumbled into the sitting room of Ron's childhood home.

Ron's excited smile faltered when they saw the sitting room completely empty, with no one there to greet them. He recognized the overlapping voices of his family instead coming from the kitchen, and with a rush of horror he feared that his precious scones were already being eaten by an army of Weasleys. He led Hermione by the hand across the room towards the kitchen, and he started to make out individual voices.

"I just don't understand why they haven't told us!" said his mother.

"He probably knows what we're likely to do to him," grumbled Charlie.

"You've been away too long, brother mine," chuckled George, "I guarantee you she's the one keeping it under wraps."

"In any case, we know that pushing the issue will do nothing but make things worse," said Ron's dad gently, "We just have to—"

"Scones ready?" asked Ron loudly as he and Hermione entered the kitchen, and Hermione had to resist the urge to swat him. The conversation he had interrupted seemed interesting, and her suspicions were confirmed (and her curiosity inflamed) when all talk instantly ceased the moment they walked into the room. Six heads snapped towards the arriving couple as Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George widened their eyes in surprise and fear, like they were caught discussing something covert. Hermione also noticed how a few of them (mainly Ron's two oldest brothers) then narrowed their eyes venomously at her and her boyfriend.

While the kitchen of the Burrow was usually one of the warmest, most welcoming rooms in the world to Hermione, she noticed a distinctly cool, tense atmosphere this time. She looked sideways and saw that even Ron had clearly noticed, his eager smile slipping from his face.

There were several seconds of silence as the older family members' eyes all flittered between each other, holding a silent conversation that Ron and Hermione didn't know how to join. Then the loud ding of the kitchen timer made them all jerk suddenly.

"Wow, do I have great timing or what?" said Ron proudly, trying to ease some of the tension in the room, but some of his laughter died in his throat. His stomach didn't let him dwell on it, however, as Molly bent down to take the scones out of the oven, and the sweet, fresh smell filled the kitchen.

After she put the plate of scones on the table, Ron casually flicked a cooling charm over them before grabbing one greedily. The other Weasley men took their own, but they looked more like it was just something to do with their hands. While Ron hummed as he took a big bite, they chewed theirs thoughtfully.

"I should check on the washing," said Molly quietly, without looking at anyone. She grabbed a laundry basket and headed outside towards the clothesline.

"I'll help!" said Hermione cheerfully. She was always happy to help with the chores at the Burrow, but she also wanted to get one of the Weasleys alone to figure out what they had been talking about.

Molly didn't answer and continued outside with Hermione behind her.

"How have you and Arthur been?" asked Hermione pleasantly.

"Well, my days are still dreary, with no children left in the house," Molly sighed. "I knew that children don't stay children forever, but I certainly wasn't expecting my younger ones to hit so many milestones so quickly….and in the wrong order." She finished more quietly

Hermione frowned. Did Molly think she and Ron were getting married too soon? She had never expressed that before, she was overjoyed when they had announced their engagement.

"Er….well, Ron recently got promoted from Junior Auror," said Hermione uncertainly as she began helping Molly take garments off the clothesline and put them in the basket. "He'll be taking more serious cases now." So his career is well on track, if that's what you're worried about.

"I'm touched that you and Ron are willing to indulge that to me!" said Molly sharply

Hermione pursed her lips. Her patience was running out.

She stepped towards her soon-to-be mother-in-law and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Molly…"

For the first time, Molly turned to look at Hermione and the younger woman flinched back at the cold distrust and disapproval she saw in her eyes. Hermione felt a rush of deja vu, and after a short moment she realized where she had seen that look before: it was the same look she had received from Molly her fourth year, when the older witch had believed Rita Skeeter and was under the impression that Hermione was Harry's manipulative girlfriend, breaking his heart by messing around with Viktor.

"Mrs. Weasley...have I done something wrong?" asked Hermione weakly.

Seeing the hurt on Hermione's face, Molly's own harsh expression softened and was replaced with a wave of guilt. Her eyes got watery and her lip trembled, and before Hermione could say anything else she suddenly found herself being hugged tightly.

"No dear, you haven't done anything wrong," said Molly in a choked voice, as Hermione awkwardly patted her back, thoroughly confused. "I'm just being silly. I understand you're not choosing sides, you're just being a good friend."

Molly pulled back, and was smiling weakly at Hermione.

"Er...thank you," said Hermione, more bewildered than ever. "I don't mean to be rude, Molly, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh no, of course not," Molly winked dramatically, "There's nothing to tell, I'll drop it. Come on, dinner is just about ready."

Before Hermione could insist more strongly that Molly explain what the hell was going on, Molly picked up the now-full laundry basket and returned to the house, leaving Hermione blinking dumbly behind her.

******************************

As Hermione followed his mother outside, Ron continued to chew into the warm, buttery scone, barely looking at his surrounding family members, the earlier tension all but forgotten to him.

"So….little Ronnie doesn't come around for dinner as much as he used to," Bill pointed out.

"He and Harry have been burning the candle at both ends at the Ministry," said Percy.

"Hmm-hmm," Ron nodded, engrossed in his scone, not looking up to see the stern looks on his brothers' faces. "More than we need to be, honestly. But because of Harry's saving-people-thing, he's always sure that the next case will end in disaster if the dark wizard isn't caught right now, and of course he would be lost without me, so whenever he's working overtime I am too." He shrugged.

"Oh yes, I think we're all well aware how loyal you are to Harry," Charlie said darkly, "Even over other, older loyalties, as a matter of fact."

"Charlie…." began their dad warningly.

Ron looked back up, and grew uncomfortable again when he saw that all of his family members were looking directly at him. Earlier, he had assumed that the awkward tension in the room was because he and Hermione had interrupted an important conversation, but it seemed to go beyond that, like they were pissed directly at him for something he had done.

"What's going—"

He was interrupted by his mother re-entering the house, holding the laundry with one hand and wiping tears from her eyes with the other. Hermione followed in shortly behind her, and Ron looked pointedly at his mother and gave his fiance a quizzical look, but Hermione just returned a confused, helpless shrug.

"The roast should be almost done now," said Molly happily, and waved her want to send a flurry of plates and cutlery flying to settle in front of where each of the Weasley men were sitting.

"And I'm such a terrible mother, I neglected something," chuckled Molly, and bent down to kiss the crown of Ron's head. "We all missed you, dear."

"Mum…" Ron grumbled awkwardly, but he saw his brothers look at each other with slightly guilty expressions, and as they followed their mother's lead, the atmosphere of the room became friendlier.

Charlie drew in a deep breath and sighed. "I need a drink."

"Excellent idea!" pipped George. He waved his wand and summoned a large bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet along with several glasses, which zoomed right past Molly's face, causing her to jump and shriek.

"For the last time, only the cook can summon in the kitchen!" Molly scolded him, "I won't have this room devolve in complete chaos of flying objects until someone gets a concussion!"

"And I know you don't always act like it, but you are all of age," said Arthur, raising his eyebrows at George pouring several glasses of whiskey, "so I see no reason why you can't bring your own drinking supplies instead of raiding mine."

Molly huffed. "Well maybe it will be best if we stopped keeping that poison in the house—"

She stopped abruptly as they heard a faint pop from outside, coming from down the pathway, and Ron knew that Harry and Ginny must have arrived. Instead of beaming and rushing out into the garden to greet her two favorite children, however, Ron saw his mother gasp and a bit of the color drain from her face. His family members all looked at each other with that same expression he first saw when he came into the room.

Charlie gave a low growl and picked up a glass. "Yup. Definitely need a drink."

#hinny ficfest #hinny fanfiction #hinny fluff #romione #hinny #hinny fanfic #ron x hermione #ron and hermione #harry and ginny #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #romione fanfic #harry x ginny #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic

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becausethathappens · 3 years ago

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Spare Change

4k - college - Link is furious, so Rhett tries to calm him down.

For @peachworthy and anyone else who thinks swearing is hot.

Link is mad.

Link is pacing.

Rhett tries to help.

“Why don’t you just scream into a pillow, like you always do?” Rhett offers.

“I did that!” Link cries. He makes a show of going over and doing it again. Rhett can’t help his instinct to recoil at seeing his friend yell like that.

Link’s car has been towed. Link can’t go on a date with the girl he’s been trying to court all week.

On top of that: Link doesn’t have a credit card (all he’s got is cash) and it says right on the tow sign they don’t deal in it. Somehow Link missed the whole thing, the first time around, when he parked wrong or whatever. But now going to have to borrow his Mama’s card just to get the truck out of impound.

All this and he still has to cancel on his date tonight.

“I didn’t even see a line!” he yells again, recounting the events that have unfolded. “How am I supposed to take their word for it without a picture, either! And like I said, if you can’t see the line, how are you gonna know when you’ve crossed it?!” he decries.

They’ve towed his car because he parked outside the student residential boundary lines on the main street. Everyone knows this is how the city of Raleigh makes most it’s coin. Shoving parking tickets on unsuspecting co-eds.

Link never thought they’d tow his freaking car, though.

Well, his truck. To be specific.

He feels stifled, cornered, and hot. Very hot. His skin is boiling, red and he wants to punch the pillow he’s just released after screaming into it.

His only permanent means of escape.

At least, unless he borrows Rhett's car.

“I can’t believe they wouldn’t even give me a warning! Or wait five minutes! I was only in rec center for ten minutes picking up freakin’ — these freakin’ things,” Link spits the words as he picks up and tosses the flowers back down on his desk.

They’re rumpled, now, with his tense hold and actions. Rhett gets up and fidgets with them, trying to smooth the foliage back into the nice shape it started in.

“Link, it’s okay, Lindsey is gonna understand,” Rhett explains.

“It’s not — it’s — there’s — why’s it always — I’M SO MAD!” Link ends with, apoplectic and beyond any other way to articulate it.

“That’s okay!” Rhett tells him, since he has every right to be upset.

“I...! Ughhhh!” He walks over and bangs his right Reebok heel against the closet door once for good measure.

It makes a noisy sound as it bends at the overhead slide hinge that keeps it on track. Link kicks it again, seeming pleased with the audible response from the wood bending and cracking loudly in the room, like a smack to the face.

“Link!” Rhett reprimands, sure that they’ll be in trouble with their resident advisor for damaging property if Link keeps it up.

“I’m sorry, I just! I just wanna — ‘s just been one thing after another, this year!” Link growls, continuing his pacing and returning to the wooden door again. “I’m just so — so — ARRGH!” Link fumes and before Rhett can jump up to intervene, he watches his friend punch the door.

“FFF—reak! Dang it!” Link screams.

Rhett watches, eyes wide.

“Shit!” Link yells as it hits. It gives with a loud, snap-crack and Rhett’s mouth makes a perfect “o” in reaction.

Link’s hand goes to his mouth catching his own language. “Shit!” he cries again like he can’t stop, muffled by his hand.

Afterwards, he’s panting and Rhett is left standing to the side staring in a bit of awe. He didn’t know Link had that in him, to be honest. “Shit, there’s a hole!” Link exclaims.

Their eyes both guiltily dart to the half-filled swear jar on Link’s desk. Usually he’s the one keeping after Rhett for saying “Hell!” or “Damn!”

Although Rhett’s said all the bad words, at some point or another, it is unlike either of them to spew out a ton of foul language in a string as Link has.

“Swear jar?” Rhett says, mostly in question. He can tell Link’s much madder than the other times they’ve punished each other for cursing. His willingness to let it go is rife in his tone, but Link shakes his head, madder at himself for having swore and willing to pay the price.

He saunters over to his backpack and finds his wallet. “No, no, I earned it.” He tsks himself as he pulls out a few singles and strides over to the jar, tipping them in.

“You overpaid, there, bo,” Rhett advises, watching the bills settle. It was a quarter a word and Link put in three dollars.

“‘S for the door,” Links says, shrugging. “I don’t know what the Hell I ‘s thinkin’!”

He closes his eyes. “And for that Hell, too,” he adds. “And that one!” He throws his hands up. “ARRgh!”

“Link!” Rhett yells as he slots another single dollar bill, adding to the overpayment, but cushioning the extra curses all the same. “Link, it’s — you — it’s fine!”

“It’s not fine!” Link yells. “I’m screwed. And now I’m cursing like a sailor watchin’ my favorite football team lose the playoffs!”

Rhett makes a face. “What, we talkin’ the Army-Navy game, or what?”

“Damn it, Rhett!” Link snarls. Then he closes his eyes and makes a face at his own words. “Damn it, Rhett!” He paces around, throwing his hands back around, gesticulating. “I feel like I’m trapped in some sick dirty mouth loop!”

“That sounds… why does that sound worse than the cursing?” Rhett says, joking. “Maybe you should add another dollar?”

Link sighs, dramatically, and does so.

“Link, I was — you don’t have to actually — Link, it’s okay!” Rhett stammers out, eyes bright. He comes at Link with his hand out, like he’s asking to be heard out. “You had a horrible day, you should be allowed to vent a little!”

“Vent a little?!” Link shoots back. “I put a hole in the door!”

“Yeah, okay, maybe that wasn’t your finest moment, but you’re pissed!” Rhett explains. “I get it!”

Link throws his hands up as if to say, at least there’s that and not much else.

“You should get a pass.”

“A pass?” Link questions.

“Yeah, just for tonight.” Rhett puts his hands on his hips. “You already paid for a week’s worth of curses with my exchange rate,” Rhett jokes.

Rhett didn’t curse much, but all the other money in the jar was his. Link’s never so much as taken the Lord’s name in vain before.

Link spares a sidelong glance and hustles back over to his backpack to return his wallet.

“Go ahead, man, you’ve earned it. Blow off some steam!” Rhett advises.

“So, you just want me to start cursing?” Link asks, joking with a touch of condescension. “Like some — some degenerate?”

“Degenerate?” Rhett asks, laughing. “Who said anything about being a degenerate?”

“That’s who curses, Rhett!”

Rhett looks Link over and decides to try and get his mind off what’s eating him by messing with him. His favorite pastime.

“You should say the ‘F’ word, Link,” Rhett urges, suddenly, overcome with the desire to corrupt Link. He’s a bit ashamed of it, but another side of him insists that it would be hilarious to see Link snap and start saying filthy things, even for just one night.

Hearing him say Shit! is enough to get Rhett interested in hearing more.

Link frowns. “Fornicate?”

Rhett smirks. “Yeah, but the bad version.”

Link’s eyes go wide. “Rhett!” he puts a hand to his chest, finally settling on a posture that indicates he’s nearly at his wit’s end. Rhett beams at him.

This is as much about teasing Link to take a night off being Mr. Perfect as it is about Rhett noticing that Link screaming Shit! also did a lot to calm him down. If he curses more, maybe he’ll feel better altogether. Plus, as established, Rhett found it hilarious to watch unfold.

In his opinion, it’s certainly worth a shot.

“C’mon, Link — let one rip!” Rhett teases and Link’s brows furrow.

Unfortunately, Rhett’s efforts to cheer him up are doing the opposite for his mood in the meantime. Link looks actively annoyed at the supposition.

“Will you please — ? We’ve established I’m having a terrible enough night as it is and I don’t need your added bull —” Link stops, then goes silent off at Rhett’s delighted expression.

“My what?” Rhett teases more. “My bullshit?”

Link’s eyes flick to the jar. Rhett makes a show of grabbing a quarter from his laundry money holder on his own desk and walking over to put it in the jar.

“Yeah, that,” Link bullies.

“Well, too dang bad, Link,” Rhett says, splaying his arms wide and taking in that Link is at least partly distracted from his terrible night, even while he spoke of it. “Rules are that so long as I pay up, I’m fine.”

Link huffs.

“This is —” Link starts, voice rising again in agitation.

“Uh, huh,” Rhett encourages.

“You’re such a —” Link begins and ends. Rhett’s eyebrows and eyes both dart up then turn crooked, waiting for any addition to that comment, but it never arrives.

Link starts pacing again, faster, back and forth between the dorm beds and their door.

Rhett merely nods, waiting for more.

Finally, something in Link stops him in his tracks. Whether it’s the constant grinning nods from Rhett to egg him on, the long itinerary of Bad Things that keep on Happening, or just that Link is filled with an urge to punch the closet door again and he knows he can’t do that.

So, he snaps, “IT IS BULLSHIT!” full volume at Rhett.

Rhett’s head nods even more swiftly, taking a deeper path up and down, like he’s bobbing over steady waves to stay afloat.

“IT’S ALL BULLSHIT!” Link repeats at the same charged decibel.

Rhett still nods more, as if to tell him to elaborate further, but Link’s anger stagnates his thinking. He just wants to keep screaming that, so he does. “IT’S ALL SUCH BULLSHIT!”

“Yeah, it is!” Rhett calls back at him, like he’s cheering him on in the stands.

“And you?!” Rhett puts a hand on his own chest as if to answer silently who me? Link’s, fired up again and pointing in Rhett’s direction. “You don’t get to have fun with this, you’re — you’re just as bad!”

“YEAH! I AM!” Rhett calls out, uncaring about being thrown into the mix as well.

“When you drove us to the rec center last weekend, we double-parked with our hazards on and took twice as long!”

Rhett exclaims, “We did!” in agreement.

“ASSHOLE!” Link yells at him.

Rhett nods.

Link tears his fingers through his hair, overwhelmed at how out of hand his words have gotten, so quickly. His eyes stray back to the swear jar where he knows he has at least a few words to go. Disturbing though the thought, he considers also that he has more money in his wallet.

He knows how far he’s strayed, already, from that change in priorities alone. When he looks back at Rhett, who is still giddy, waiting for him to say more, he gives up.

“Fuck,” he mutters, in absolution.

Rhett gasps.

He’s been waiting for Link to say that, most of all, and is shocked by how quickly they’ve arrived there. Hearing it spoken so casually, on top of it all.

“Fuck,” Link repeats again, in surprise that the word actually tumbled out of his mouth so smoothly.

“I don’t even think I’ve ever hardly thought that word before, let alone said it, now I can’t f — fuck, now I can’t stop!” Link growls at Rhett, furious at his role in what feels like a downfall.

Rhett is still aghast. His mind racing.

He’s been waiting for the delivery and is amazed to hear Link actually do it. His mind has been picturing this as a funny joke, but Link is just standing there, mad, yelling fuck, again and again, accusatory. Rightly so.

Rhett knows he drove Link to this, in part for his own amusement, but it doesn’t feel funny at all anymore. His cheeks feel warm.

Link’s face reddens further at Rhett’s lack of response.

He gets up in Rhett’s face and Rhett feels himself start to back up so quickly he nearly stumbles to sit on the bed. He needs to concede this fight because it’s clear there’s a lot more pent up anger than he’s realized inside Link.

He thinks back to the door and looks around. That did calm him briefly, but surely he can’t just punch the door again. “You should yell,” Rhett ekes out the next best thing. What Link shouted after the punch. “Yell it.”

He means the f-word, still. The way Link is saying it, it feels immoral to be saying it, too.

“FUCK!” Link yells, at his continued badgering, whether it’s in fulfillment of his request or not, Rhett couldn’t say. His body shudders in fear at how loud and direct an outburst that was.

Now, he’s worried their dorm mates are going to think they’re in an all-out fight. Rhett’s eyes scan the bed and he grabs a pillow. “Yell into this,” he offers, handing the pillow over.

Link, still looking annoyed, takes the pillow. He shoves his face against it and screams, “FUCK!” at what must be the very top of his lungs.

Rhett has to brace himself against the top bunk. He’s waiting for the punchline.

It still hasn’t come.

Link, meanwhile, has pulled his bright red face from the pillow and takes in air in pants, looking over at Rhett. Rhett is sure he’s never looked so tough, so masculine, so — Rhett’s stomach lurches.

He knows that can’t be healthy. To consider any of those traits as a burly or cool, but he’s too concerned with why they’re making his insides tingle to interrogate it much for himself.

He offers to take the pillow back and Link hands it to him. Instead of putting it on the bed, Rhett holds it in his hands. He’s speechless, he thinks, but his head is pounding too hard to know why his mind directs him to his next request. Muscle memory, perhaps.

Normally, Rhett would wrestle with Link until he got the anger out, but that feels absolutely impossible to initiate right now. With Link this mad, somehow Rhett worries that even being bigger and heavier, Link would find a way to win that match, looking as livid as he does.

“Um,” Rhett starts, unable to figure out what more to say, now that Link’s gone through all that. He holds up the pillow. “Punch this,” Rhett says, not thinking about the fact that said pillow is still in his grip. He’s more focused on the mental image of sweaty, angry Link punching things again.

It’s what helped him relieve tension before, after all.

So, he pushes the pillow forward again, centering it where Link can take an easy swing in the middle and miss Rhett’s hands entirely, and waits for Link to make a move.

Soon, Link does swing, deftly, landing a soft punch on the object with a huff. Rhett can see some of the tension lock up and release from his shoulders. It’s not gone, but it must be helping. Rhett knows shooting hoops when he’s pissed always did the trick.

Link then punches again, firmer, this time, shouting, “Fuck!” along with his movements.

Then again, then a third and fourth time, until the pillow gives way and flies back towards the chair behind where Rhett stands. “Shit!” Link calls, watching it settle on the desk chair to their right.

Rhett considers that is likely to keep happening, once Link builds back to that momentum, so he turns back and squares up. He holds a palm out behind another palm. He doesn’t ask, but Link can tell he’s being told to punch into Rhett’s open hand like it’s a boxing or pitching warm-up.

Link pulls back and slams his fist into Rhett’s palm. The taller of the two staggers back, but doesn't flinch. He puts his hand back in the same spot waiting for another. Link gives just as hard again.

On the third hit, Rhett finally falters. The sting of the punch is too much for him to let on as harmless, when he waves his hands around the air to ease the throb. He grabs a throw blanket and drapes it two or three times around his upper chest, then motions for Link to aim there instead.

Link gets a good hit in and Rhett is sure this way is going to last even less than his naked hand did, but he has to try to keep at it. Link is so angry, but he looks so good hitting like this, like he could star in a cologne ad or work at Abercrombie & Fitch at the mall. Rhett has to let him get the tension out.

That’s Rhett’s job as his best friend.

Eventually, the pain is too much and he needs a break. Rhett puts a hand up in pause and sits himself on the bottom bunk and waits for Link to say something. They’re both panting with the same amount of exertion they use when they wrestle, but they still have all their clothes on.

For some reason, Rhett’s mind takes note of that.

He realizes he’s been staring at Link when Link starts to return the gaze. “Why’re you looking at me like that?” Link asks.

Rhett blushes. “Like what?” He can’t see his face to know.

“Like I’m a sideshow exhibit,” Link tells him, throwing his hands back up in derision. “Or — or, I don’t know a piece of undercooked meat, almost.”

“What?” Rhett asks, blanching.

“Like you’re sizing me up to fight,” Link clarifies.

Fight — Rhett considers. Quite the opposite. His mind thought Link meant piece of meat — to bite. Which sent a chill up his spine. “I-I wasn’t…”

“You were!” Link says, still crackling with tension. Rhett doesn’t have any part of his body to absorb it, any longer, he feels useless to help.

“Link…” Rhett starts to say, looking up at Link. Link still has an arm on the top bunk but now he’s leaning down a little, friendly but threatening, and Rhett’s insides start to turn over in knots.

“You want to pound me, admit it!” Link says, impatiently.

“What?!” Rhett replies, stunned.

“You,” Link says, pointing at Rhett. “Want to pound me,” he starts only to stop and point at himself. “It’s clear as day on your face.”

“What?!” Rhett yells at him.

“You want to pound me, Rhett. You’re so predictable,” Link elaborates, plainly. “Go ahead!”

Rhett’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “Link, I-I…” Rhett trails off, his face blotchy and drawn.

“C’mon,” Link begs, leaning forward down at Rhett, taunting him. “Hit me!”

Rhett registers his words, understanding finally that he means to physically fight him, not to pound him as in fuck him. In Rhett’s defense, that word has been thrown around pretty casually for the first time ever and he’s racing to keep up with everything Link is doing.

Unfortunately, Rhett comes to this conclusion after he’s already leaned upwards and started kissing Link on the mouth.

Once he’s there, realizing the grave error he’s made, he breaths a huff of air in humility as he feels Link’s mouth open in turn. Then Link’s tongue darts out to push into his.

As the wet tip bursts in and out, rapidly, and Rhett contemplates that it’s like Link is still hitting him, in this tiny only-in-his-mouth kind of way. So, maybe Link was right and he did want to pound him but only via the mouth. Since it also felt so good, Rhett starts returning the kiss, rapid pace, and pulling Link closer.

Link groans under his guidance, but it’s a good groan. Link rests a thigh over each of Rhett’s and sinks back on his knees, sitting over Rhett, as they continue to twist tongues. Rhett doesn’t know what to do with his hands, so he moves them around to Link’s back and they naturally drift towards gripping his ass while he holds him.

Link moans into his mouth at the feeling.

Eventually, Link pulls back, leaning so there’s enough space to speak his shock.

“Fuck, Rhett,” Link mutters. Rhett feels his dick throb and thrust up towards Link’s lap as he shifts. Rhett’s not sure when he got this hard, but it suddenly feels like he has a steel rod stuffed down his sweats. “What are we doing?” Link breathes out. “Was that — were we just kissin’? What the Hell is going on?” Link questions, desperate and aroused.

Rhett humps up another time and Link keens at the sensation.

“I think my body just wanted to help relieve the tension of, uh, you know, all that anger and — " Rhett starts to explain, but he’s helpless to the feeling of Link rolling around in his lap and generating even more friction between their overlapping arousal. “Guess it preferred the idea of this over punching you.”

Link rocks his hips and giggles through his own enjoyment as he watches Rhett squirm. “I’m a little biased, but yeah,” Link says, grinding down more. “This does beat a punch in the face, I’ll give you that.”

They’re both panting and rubbing on each other more before Rhett reaches down to touch Link. “Honestly, I think I could —” Link says, grinding with extra effort in a way that makes Rhett feel Link’s erection evidently as it presses against his midsection. He grinds back into that area specifically.

“Yeah, same,” Rhett agrees, circling his hips in time with Link’s.

Nothin’ like some good old dry humping, for what ails ‘ya, he figures.

Link leans down and either forgetting his initial shock or abandoning it, he captures Rhett’s mouth in another kiss.

Before long, they start gasping for air from one another’s open mouths while their faces stay pressed together but not kissing, as they grind harder and harder where they sit.

Rhett reaches a hand down and fondles them both at once, rubbing his sweats against Link’s khakis. Link throws his head back in pleasure. “Feel better?” he asks, hoping this has been as erotic and pleasurable for Link as it has been for him.

“Oh, shit, Rhett, yeah,” Link moans, waist canting in time with Rhett’s motions. While gripping Link’s ass, Rhett’s moved his right hand up his back to steady him with how harsh the kisses are, each time. The hand that moved to Link’s back has stayed under his tank and drifts to his front. Rhett feels around for a nipple and squeezes once when it finds purchase.

“Oh, fuck, yeah, just like that, oh my God, fuck, FUCK!” Link bellows out, suddenly aware that Rhett is sucking kisses into his jaw and throat as his other hand, the one not on the nipple, still squeezes his ass.

“I’m gonna — I can’t stop — I’m about to,” Link begins several attempts to warn Rhett, but comes before he can finish or Rhett can respond.

Rhett’s eyes go fully wide again, in amazement, feeling Link’s dick throb and spurt laid against his own. It’s enough added heat and friction that he feels his own orgasm begin to crest unexpectedly. He hasn’t come that quick in years. Maybe ever.

Link pants through his come down, but doesn’t move to get off Rhett right away. They both remain still, clutching each other as they sit tangled limb over limb.

“D-Did we just have sex?” Link asks, mortified, but still draped over Rhett.

“Technically,” Rhett confirms. “But it was non-penetrative, so we’re still good, I think.”

“Oh, okay, yeah,” Link says back, his eyes far off.

“You sure that’s okay?” Rhett asks, looking for Link to meet his gaze and assure him that is.

He does, but he speaks his mind, to clarify anything not given away by his crooked grin. “No, I was askin’ ‘cause I wanna do it again.”

Rhett’s eyes light up.

“A lot,” Link explains.

“Fuck,” Rhett moans, softly, brushing a thumb to Link’s lower lip.

He joins their mouths again.

Link cuts the kiss short, with a hand between them, however, and gives Rhett a stern look. Rhett knows in that moment and any proceeding it, he’ll do anything Link asks of him.

Rhett’s glazed eyes spin focus to Link’s face again to figure out what that will be this time. Link nods his head towards the half-empty jar on his desk.

“Pay up.”

#why is mean link always so hot #things i wrote #🍋#@peachworthy

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