#idk like which of them has more weight in the academic world

[acapacityforenduring]

the other prof sent in his letter of rec

[cupofteaguk]

battle of brains (m)

PART OF THE REPUTATION SERIES

summary: when it comes to academics, everyone knows not to disrupt Park Jimin with his high-standing reputation. but how is a transfer student from Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry supposed to know about maintaining his reputation? spoiler alert: they don’t care. 

pairing: jimin x fem!reader

genre: hogwarts au, nerd!jimin, enemies to lovers au | smut 

warnings: jimin and yn are arrogant idiots, inappropriate usage of Head Student/prefect equipment, alcohol consumption, the story sort of rushes towards the end because I was (and am) so tired of writing this lmao

smut present in the form of: sexual tension, slight dirty talk maybe idk what i’m doing, light bratty and dom vibes, fingering, unprotected sex, cumplay, overstimulation, bondage, one (1) spank, dry humping, slight voyeurism (they have sex in a bathroom, it’s not as gross as it sounds i promise), yeah idk there’s a lot of filth i lost control lol

word count: 25k

a/n: I have poured my blood sweat and tears (by bts) into this fic and appreciate the patience of everyone on this site. hope you enjoy it xx 

.

Park Jimin enters the school grounds the same way he has for the past six years: smirk on his face, books in his bag, and a knowledge in his heart that he is the smartest student standing within these castle walls. 

After all, ever since stepping off the train of platform nine and three-quarters all those years ago, Park Jimin has never slipped below an O on his test grades, on his assignments, and overall grades in his classes. Six years have seen Park Jimin on a first name basis with all of his professors, every conversation plagued with his natural talent and natural inclination to do well on essays and exams. And none of them are overgeneralizations about Jimin either—if those aforementioned Outstanding marks on his report cards are anything to go off of. It’s a good position to be in, one that Park Jimin acknowledges and is proud of. Why wouldn’t he be? He’s spent years buried in the library, combing through as many books as his mind would allow him to, using his knowledge to lead discussions and tests and basically set himself as one of brightest wizards in Hogwarts. 

So, pair that intelligence with his charming smile and his highly capable social skills to last in plenty of social interactions—and you get Park Jimin. He’s proud, smart, smug, and currently raising his hand. It’s a normal sight for any student in Hogwarts who has the pleasure (or misfortune, or annoyance) of attending class with Park Jimin or attending class with the same house as Park Jimin. His quick-wit and fast processing brain earned him lots of points towards the Slytherin house. But for every point he earned Slytherin, he took away the opportunity for another house to earn points—hence, where the annoyance from his peers probably comes into play. 

But Park Jimin doesn’t care. He doesn’t need to look out for anyone other than himself. That’s why as soon as Professor Binns opened class with his usual first question: “Can anyone tell me what followed the Soap Blizzard of 1378?”, he lifts his hand up. 

He waits for Professor Binns to look up and call his name, as it usually goes. Jimin’s usual plan, however, is halted when an unfamiliar voice sounds from the back of the classroom. “I believe it was the Wizarding Economic Bubble Burst, professor.” 

A different kind of silence takes over the classroom, one that is plagued with a weight of questions and surprise. Who was talking? Who would answer a question without raising their hand? 

But above all: Who would try to overstep Park Jimin? 

Jimin overcomes the momentary flood of confusion that pour through him as he lowers his hand. As soon as his hand is back on his desk, he follows what his peers are doing in turning around in his seat, to see who the voice belongs to. At the doorway stands a student Jimin has never seen in his life, dressed in what looks to be new Hogwarts robes. Behind you is Professor McGonagall, displaying no expression to give away who you are or what you’re doing here. 

You’ve got your hands in the pocket of your robes, head tilted to the side, looking as if answering Professor Binns question had required no extra mental effort, as if you had the answer ready on the tip of your tongue. 

At your response, Professor Binns looks up from his podium. “You are correct. Normally, I require students wait to be called on first before answering my question. But you provided a full answer, which is impressive. Especially for an event that hasn’t been covered for you students in a few years. But no matter. To what do I owe the pleasure, Professor McGonagall?” 

“My apologies, Professor Binns,” She says, holding up a slip of paper. “But we have a new transfer student—someone from the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” The professor directs her attention to the rest of the class. “I know we rarely get transfer students, especially so late in the student’s life, so I expect you all to be welcoming to help Ms. Y/N get adjusted.” 

The room is immediately enveloped in a blanket of whispers. Professor McGonagall is right—it’s not just rare to get transfer students, it’s practically unheard of. Especially during a student’s last year in school. The questions start coming up. Who are you? What type of situation are you in that would call for a transfer across the world? And again, the biggest question of all, how could you overstep Park Jimin? 

Professor Binns stares at the two at the door for a moment longer, before he looks back down at the podium. “Very well. Ms. Y/N, was it? Take a seat. Contrary to my previous question, today’s lecture isn’t going to be about the Soap Blizzard, but it is a vaguely entertaining topic to engage in…” 

He starts to drone on about something else. Maybe goblins or something? Park Jimin isn’t very sure anymore. The only thing he’s conscious of right now is the whispering exchanges between you and the professor. Professor McGonagall hands you the transfer papers. She asks you a few more questions before turning around and heading back down the hallway she had entered from. This leaves you alone in the doorway, lingering for a moment, before you start to move. 

Even though Professor Binns is still going on about the topic for today, it’s clear hardly anyone is paying attention. The weight of their gaze falls solely on you as you enter the classroom. You aren’t doing anything to earn their attention, but questions about you largely outweighs any questions anyone might have about class. 

People continue to watch as you brush behind Jimin’s seat, before settling yourself in the only vacant chair in the classroom—a place that also so happens to be Jimin’s desk partner. Jimin watches out of the corner of his eye as you settle yourself in, taking out your notebook, quill, and ink. He thinks about the possibility of you saying something to him—maybe an apology for answering a question he had already raised his hand for. Maybe an introduction. Maybe you would ask him how he knew about the Soap Blizzard. Yet, the longer the pair of you sit there, listening but not really listening to Professor Binns go on and on, the longer Jimin feels himself turn red with irritation. You remain quiet. 

The class time goes a lot slower than Jimin is used to, as his mind is reeling too much with questions about his new desk partner to pay any attention to class material. It isn’t until Professor Binns is dismissing the class in his usual deadpan tone, does Jimin turn to look at you. 

He pastes on a friendly expression. “Hey there,” He greets, just as you’re screwing on the cap of your ink bottle. “That was really impressive when you knew the answer to the question at the beginning of class. Did you guys over at Ilvermorny just go over the Bubble Burst before you transferred?” 

You do look over at Jimin this time, eying him up for a moment before you smile. “No, not really. We went over that shit the same time as you guys.” You turn back to gathering your quill and ink. You flip your hair over your shoulder when it starts to get into your face. “I just have better memory than most.” 

Jimin blinks, having not expected such an answer from you. You didn’t even thank him for the compliment, nevermind that you weren’t giving him anything to make a conversation from. 

You flash him one last glance before you straighten up from your seat, making your way to the front of the room. It’s probably to ask Professor Binns about bringing you up to speed with any potential assignments or readings you need to fulfill in order to do well in the class. But just like with the whole encounter the pair of you experienced thus far, it further continues to rub Jimin the wrong way. As far as first impressions go, the one you leave behind is absolutely—! 

.

“Terrible,” Jimin reports as he sits himself down in the courtyard, book bag thrown onto the ground and catching the attention of the other boys who are already situated around the area. He plops down next to Jungkook, running a hand through his hair and looking irritated enough that it halts any outside conversation that may have occurred before his appearance. 

Namjoon raises an eyebrow at Jimin’s arrival. “You doing okay there?” 

Jimin gives a heavy sigh. “You should have been in class with me today. We have a new transfer student from the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and she is—!” 

“A new student at this time of year?” Yoongi interrupts, already proving to be uninterested with the direction of the conversation as he’s writing something down in his notebook. “During our last year?” 

Jungkook perks up at the mention of ‘new’ and ‘student’. “Is she cute?” 

Hoseok giggles, elbowing the boy. “Trying to find someone who doesn’t know what it’s like to be fucked over by you, huh, JK?” 

Jimin shrugs a shoulder, raising an arm into the air with the palm of his hand upturned, furrowing his eyebrows at the question. “I don’t know. Our conversation didn’t exactly highlight the charming aspects of her personality.” 

Namjoon whistles. “She must have really done something for you to be annoyed.” 

“She was just…” Jimin trails off, trying to find the right word to describe the current feeling setting with him. “She just—she answered Professor Binn’s beginning of class question without raising her hand. She didn’t even wait for Professor Binns to call on her! Can you believe that?” 

There’s a lapse of silence as his friends take a moment to take in Jimin’s explanation of his day. 

Jungkook is the first to realize that Jimin is finished, and is the first to speak up. “Is that it?” 

Yoongi looks up from his notebook. “But you hardly ever wait for the professors to call your name.” 

“Hey!” Jimin calls, pointing a finger at the Head Boy. “Whose side are you on?” 

“Yours, of course,” Yoongi says, brushing the hair from his forehead. “But you seem to be upset for a minor reason. Even from my perspective, it doesn’t seem like she did anything wrong. She knew the question, so she answered it.” 

Jimin pouts slightly. “Doesn’t seem like you’re on my side though! How can you say something like that? For a Head Boy, you’re not good at paying attention to rules.” 

“Maybe participation is measured differently at Ilvermorny—you expect me to write up detention to someone because they broke rules they didn’t even know existed in the first place?” Yoongi asks. The corner of his lips turn up. “I admit I can be a little harsh with giving out detentions, but the students I target have known about the Hogwarts rules their entire life. They should know better. The expectation on that transfer student is a little much, especially coming from you. Are you sure you’re not just mad that someone who wasn’t you got to show off? 

Jimin glares. “Of course not,” He protests, done in a way that is overly exaggerated and implies that he’s definitely mad he didn’t get to show off. 

“Of course he is,” Namjoon grumbles under his breath. “The spotlight is taken away from him for two seconds and he’s already pouting like a baby.” 

“I’m not pouting,” Jimin scowls. “I can’t believe you guys aren’t on my side. Someone answering a question before me is like someone catching a Golden Snitch before Jeon.” 

Jungkook shakes his head. “You trying to compare us or something, Park? Besides, a question given at the beginning of class is different from a whole Quidditch game. I guess it’s more like someone doing better than me during Quidditch practices? I’m not at my best, just like how you aren’t at your best during questions asked in class that, frankly, don’t mean shit.” He reaches into his bag and pulls out a piece of bread he had taken from the Great Hall earlier that morning. No one questions it. Jungkook is known to sneak snacks around. He takes a bite of the bread. “And just like how I’m at my best during Quidditch games, you’re at your best when you’re prepared and focused.” 

“Jungkook is right,” Namjoon says, slinging an arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “So what if a transfer student gets one question right? You’ve gotten six years worth of questions correct. When the tests start coming around and the professors congratulate you on another high score, I think you’ll realize how much you’re overreacting.” He holds up a finger when Jimin opens his mouth. “You are, but that’s fine.” 

Jimin sighs. “Okay, okay, you’re right. It was just one question. It’s not that big of a deal. You’re right. I’m fine.” 

His friends exchange glances, but Jimin pretends he doesn’t see them because he’s too busy trying to engrave the previous reassurances into his mind. He was totally fine. He could brush past this minor irritation. It’s not like other students never got to answer questions delivered by a professor over his student career, because they had. This was just another person, and you are just another student—a new student, but a student nonetheless. In a few weeks, you’ll just become someone he’ll pass by in the hallway. 

The mental note that in the long run, your small interaction would become a hazy memory, relaxes Jimin. After all, it’s not a big deal. It was fine. 

Spoiler alert: It was not fine. 

. 

Rumors have a habit of flying around Hogwarts quickly. After all, when students are more-or-less trapped in a castle for nine months of a year, the amount of entertainment available becomes limited to homework, friends, a handful of outdoor activities, and participating in the creation and distribution of gossip. Kim Namjoon knows all about gossip—he’s part of the foundation that creates that business. 

And it’s all driving Park Jimin crazy, not because of the act of gossip itself, but because the rumors are circling around an individual he thought would have been pushed to the backburner by now. That individual, as could be guessed, is you. And he can’t believe it. 

In all honesty, he should have known better. A student from the Ilvermorny school comes in during the final year, answers a question seamlessly right off the bat, and makes no attempts to befriend any students. What kind of person wouldn’t be curious about that? 

The answer is no one. Everyone is curious about you, and it shows. 

After all, it just takes one week for everyone to know about your quick response to Professor Binns question, and even less time for assumptions about your education level to come into discussion.

“I hear she was the top student at Ilvermorny,” Namjoon says by way of greeting as he slides across from Jimin in the library. 

Jimin barely looks up from his textbook. “And that’s supposed to make me feel better because…?” He trails off. 

Namjoon blinks. “It wasn’t.” 

Jimin scowls. “Fuck off.” 

It’s hard to pretend someone doesn’t exist when their mere presence can cause so much discussion and debate. Besides, he already had an inkling that you weren’t just any normal student from Ilvermorny. Your knowledge of the material being taught in class has shed a light to two things: one, it highlights your ability to retain topics from years ago and two, it shows how quickly you can follow your professors advice on readings or essays needed in order to be up to date with the curriculum. 

Conclusion: you are smart. Really smart, actually. Smart enough to be the top student at Ilvermorny. And the seeming lack of effort on your end to accomplish so much with little work is what Jimin realizes is the most irritating aspect of this whole thing. That may have slid by at Ilvermorny, but this is different. Because you being the top student at Ilvermorny is equivalent to Jimin being the top student at Hogwarts. And if you took over his spot, where would that leave Jimin? The second best student at Hogwarts? 

Yeah, he doesn’t think so. 

The feelings only dig themselves in deeper when the first few weeks pass and test dates start being scheduled, announced, and distributed. Jimin studies the way he has for years: he buries himself in his notebooks and holes up in the library for as long as physically possible. He smiles at some pretty girls that walk by, that park themselves in a table just a few rows down from his own. They giggle at the smiles he sends and the glances he steals with them. He doesn’t start a conversation with any of those girls, however, he continues to keep to himself as he rummages through his notes to stay on top of his study schedule. 

After a few minutes of organizing and filling out study guides, Jimin realizes that there is a question he hadn’t taken note of during his previous classes. With a sigh, he straightens up out of his desk, heading towards the aisle filled with Charms textbooks. His eyes narrow on the spines of the books, already having a vivid image in his mind of what he was looking for. 

His fingers reach out, hovering, until a movement next to the corner of his eye stops him. He lowers his hand, and glares. “I’m a little surprised to see you here,” He notes by way of greeting. 

You give Jimin a smile with no teeth. “Is that anyway to speak to your seat partner, Park Jimin?” 

“I was just making an observation.” He frowns. “What are you doing here?” 

You don’t comment about him answering your question with a question. After all, this kind of conversation is a normal occurrence between the two of you—as it has been ever since your first encounter. 

“Just grabbing a book,” You say, reaching into the shelf and sliding out a copy of an advanced seventh year Charms textbook. “Those bonus questions on the charms study guide are a real bitch, am I right?”

He stares at you. “I can’t say for sure. I haven’t gotten there yet.” 

“Wow.” You grin. “And I thought you were one of the smart ones, Park Jimin.” You bring the book to your chest. “I should get back to my seat.” 

He hums, about to let you slip past his fingers, but a thought stops him. “Hey,” He calls out, watching as you turn back around. Your eyes study him—gaze observant and unwavering.

His own eyes momentarily flicker down below your face. From the collar of your school shirt to your waist, to the line where the fabric of your skirt meets the skin of your leg. He swallows, dragging his eyes back up to you. You raise an eyebrow, a corner of your lips turning up, as if you know what he’s thinking. “Yes?” You ask, making yourself comfortable again against the shelf. 

“Listen,” He starts, trying to mentally form his words. “I know you’re new, so I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. But ranking first on tests and grades is sort of my thing. I’ve been here since I turned eleven, so I think as a newcomer you should learn your place now before rumors get spread and your life here as a student gets very complicated.” 

You huff in disbelief, taking a step towards him. “Is that a threat, Park Jimin?” 

“It’s whatever you want it to be,” He returns. 

You’re standing at an arm’s length away from him. “I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re trying to play. Trying to enforce something that only benefits you, because it seems like you can’t handle when someone is smarter than you are.” You smile again, no teeth. “I’m not scared of you. You think I give a fuck about what your little gang of friends have to spread about me? Yeah, I know about your group. If you think bullshit like that is going to stop me from doing my best, then you better start doing some actual research about me. I think you’re in over your head. I was the best at my school, so don’t think I don’t have what it takes to be the best here.” 

Jimin remains unwavering, choosing to keep his gaze on you. “We’ll see about that.” 

You raise an eyebrow at the challenge, looking amused rather than annoyed. For a moment, neither of you say anything. Your gaze switches between his eyes. 

And down at his lips. 

They flash back up just as fast as they had looked down. 

Your tongue quickly darts across your lower lip. “I guess we will,” You say, taking a step back. “I’ll see you around, Park Jimin.” 

His gaze trails down your backside as you leave. 

.

The Charms exam is the first test of Jimin’s final year at Hogwarts, and he goes in with high expectations for himself—as he always does. He answers all the questions, recalling them from the study guides or various readings he had done in preparation. All in all, it’s a regular Charms exam in all its short answers and detailed explanations, but one he has full confidence in doing the best in once again. 

So imagine his surprise when Professor Flitwick stops in front of your desk, produces your test from the collection in his arms, and utters the following words: “Congratulations to Ms. Y/N for making the top score in the class. She went above and beyond for all the questions, including the extra credit, and is therefore very well deserving of her Outstanding score!” He claps. “Yes, yes, very good Ms. Y/N! Keep up the good work!” 

You smile, looking down at your practically unmarked test, taking in the O at the top of the paper. 

The way you slide your eyes towards Park Jimin does not go unnoticed by him, who looks down at his own test. There is a single mark on his test, a -½ at the top, with points marked off from one of his last extra credit questions. Missing a half mark on a test isn’t unheard of with a Charms exam, which can be long and tedious and requires thorough paragraph-length responses. 

However, Park Jimin not scoring the highest score in the class is unheard of. 

And now you know it, as the students looking around the classroom is anything to go off on. You are not looking at the students around you. You are looking right at Park Jimin, with the corner of your lips turned up, a look of pride written all across your face. 

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do next, but maybe he’ll try to take a note from Jung Hoseok’s book about putting a damper on someone’s day—he wonders if you like hiccough sweet in your morning tea. 

. 

Park Jimin never gets to find out if you like hiccough sweet in your morning tea, because he gets called into Professor McGonagall’s office before he can figure out the best way to give you a taste of how rough he could make your life. 

Not only does he get called into the Headmistress’ office, he gets called in with you. 

He sees you about to pull open the office door, and cannot seem to help his impatience. He rushes towards you, brushing past you in an attempt to reach the handle first. “Excuse me sweetheart, I have an appointment with Professor McGonagall so if you could let me go ahead, I’d appreciate it…” 

You move forward to block him from opening the door. You give him an eyebrow raise, thoroughly unimpressed. “Sweetheart?” You inquire, referring to his nickname. 

He blinks. Normally, his peers would be flustered at being cornered in such a way and he cannot help his further frustration—because just what is your problem? Do you not have any weaknesses? 

Since people are usually flustered following his whole ‘sweetheart’ role, he doesn’t know how to respond to someone who isn’t flustered by his role. Which, in turn, leaves him slightly flustered. “Well…” He starts. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I have a name, Park Jimin, and I’d appreciate it if you called me that instead of whatever bullshit you think I’ll bend over for.” 

“Duly noted,” He grumbles, deciding to let you have this one. “I wasn’t trying to be difficult though, sweet—Y/N.” He corrects himself upon seeing your glare. If he thought you weren’t serious with your threats, he definitely doesn’t think that now. The glare you give him makes him wonder if maybe you’ll slip hiccough sweet into his morning tea. “I do have an appointment with Professor McGonagall right now.” 

That makes you furrow your eyebrows, but not in a way that’s directed at him. “Huh,” You say, mostly to yourself. “I do too. That’s weird. Does she want to see both of us at the same time?” 

Jimin crosses his arms over his chest. “Why are you asking me? I’m just here to get this meeting over with.” 

“So am I, I’m just trying to figure out what this means! Don’t be an ass about this,” You snap back. You swear you’re about to go for the neck before the office door opens of its own accord. 

“Y/N! Jimin! Please come in.” It’s Professor McGonagall.

You sharply turn to Jimin. “Great, she heard your squawking.” 

Jimin glares at you. “You’re the one who’s talking about bending over for me!” 

You flush deeply at that. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Y/N? Jimin?” Professor McGonagall appears at the office door. “You may come in, that’s why I opened the door for you.” 

“P-Professor,” You say, stammering slightly and Jimin blinks at the sight—having never seen you look nervous before. “Whatever you heard outside, it’s not a reflection of our actual conversations…” 

“As if we ever have any actual conversations,” Jimin grumbles under his breath, and you give him a look that could cut glass. 

Before you can continue, the professor holds up a hand. “I just happened to open the door because it’s the time both of you should be here for your meeting anyways.” She shifts her gaze between the two of you. “Regardless of who is offering to bend over for whom.” 

Even Jimin has to admit the hotness on his cheeks. Neither of you say anything to that, although you kick Jimin in the shin before entering the office. The pair of you are gestured to take a seat in front of Professor McGonagall’s desk. 

“I do apologize for the last minute call,” She says as she laces her fingers together and places them on the desk. “But an assignment has come up that requires attention from both of you. It’s something that the top senior students are asked to do every year, but I wanted to make sure Y/N got adjusted before assigning her with a new project.” 

“Forgive my bluntness, professor,” Jimin speaks, hands on his lap. “But is asking the transfer student really necessary for what project you have for me? Since I’m the top student, I’m sure I can shoulder this by myself—!” 

“The project requires the top male and female student,” Professor McGonagall interrupts carefully, but she’s giving Jimin a look. “And since Y/N was the top student at Ilvermorny, her involvement in the project was requested by a member of the Ministry.” 

Jimin notices the way you stiffen at that—he sees it in the tightness of your jaw, the way you sit a little straighter. The scoff overpower his curiosity, seeing your reaction as nothing more than a student trying to land a job with the aforementioned Ministry of Magic, and he hates it. 

Neither you nor Professor McGonagall comment on his reaction, you just nod at her words with the kind of eyes that say you know exactly which member she’s referring to. Jimin decides not to ponder too deeply over it regardless. Any question, sarcastic or not, would not be received well by you. 

“And what exactly is the project about, professor?” You ask after a moment. 

Professor McGonagall readies herself at that. “It’s a project created by the Ministry of Magic,” She starts. “The project basically asks the top two students at Hogwarts to present a report about their time at the school—anything you two may have learned, from your classes to the extra curricular activities you might have enjoyed. We like to keep a good relationship with the Ministry of Magic, mainly to maintain career opportunities and internships open to the students here. The Ministry also likes to learn about what we’re teaching to either help fund programs and also keep other schools up to date with curriculum. Of course, the students who complete the project are allowed to opt out of their NEWT exams and are offered careers for those specific NEWTS. The project is given as an incentive for the top students to take advantage of the opportunity to jump start their careers—it’s also meant to serve as a reward for working so hard.” 

“So, we have to…” Jimin trails off, looking at you. “Work together?” 

“Yes, Mr. Park,” Professor McGonagall says. “The two of you will need to work together to come up with something cohesive, and professional. Y/N is still getting adjusted to life at Hogwarts, so I’m sure you’ll do well in showing her around the castle.” 

“Yeah, Mr. Park,” You add in, wearing a smile across your lips. “Guess this means you have to accept me as your equal, huh?” 

“When would we have to give this presentation?” Jimin cuts in, ignoring you completely and seeing the way you exhale through your nose in amusement. 

“It’s after the fall quarter,” The professor answers, eyes flickering between the two of you. “If there’s any problems that come up, or if either of you have any questions—I am available to answer them. Although I hope you both will be able to sort through most problems, like adults.” 

“I’m sure Mr. Park and I can figure something out,” You say, voice sugar sweet and eyes bright with attention. There’s a teasing tone, something you always seem to have during your encounters with Jimin. The boy merely sighs, mostly to himself, with the knowledge that this is something that has been handed to him. And therefore, it’s something he cannot outsmart. 

“Wonderful,” Professor McGonagall replies, looking relieved. “You both may go if you don’t have any further questions.” 

You straighten up, bowing to the professor, and purposely allowing your skirt to brush Jimin’s arm as you leave the room. His jaw sets further, because he could have sworn the skin of your leg touched his shoulder and the thought only annoys him more. Did you have to be such a brat—?

“Do you have anymore concerns, Mr. Park?” Professor McGonagall asks, beady eyes looking right through him. She seems to be challenging him. The Headmistress is, after all, no stranger to Jimin’s constant hustle to be the top student at the school. Jimin wonders if his nerves and him feeling threatened by a new student is showing. If it is, she doesn’t say anything. 

Jimin slowly gets up out of his chair. “No, professor,” He says, tilting his head slightly. “No concerns, no problems.” 

“Alright, well, you better get going,” Professor McGonagall says, picking up her quill. “I assume you have meetings to arrange with Y/N.” 

Jimin doesn’t say anything to that. He just watches the professor for a second longer before turning around and exiting the same way he had entered. A lot of thoughts enter his mind in that moment, mainly thoughts circling around what in the ever fuck was he going to do about being confined to working with someone he honestly could not stand—! 

“Just to let you know, I’m just as excited about this project as you are.” 

He stops short, lingering just outside the door to the office. “What are you doing?” 

You uncross your arms, remove yourself from your position against the wall. “I’m just expressing my excitement for this assignment.” 

“You’re sticking around just to spite me.” 

“Contrary to popular belief, not everything is about you. You’re just upset because you have to acknowledge that I’m smart enough to challenge you. Not only that, but smart enough to warrant a request for someone at the Ministry of Magic,” You say. “But that’s okay. I don’t need your acknowledgment—I’ve been doing fine all on my own.” 

He turns to look at you. “Hey, what was all that bullshit about being requested anyways?” 

You readjust the bag at your shoulder. “Hm, let me see… oh yeah. It’s none of your business.” 

“Does that specific member at the Ministry have something to do with your transfer?” 

You meet his gaze, eyes narrowing. “What part of ‘it’s none of your business’ do you not understand?” 

“Oh, I understand it completely.” He takes a step towards you, hands in his pocket. “Since, you know, you’re all excited about us working together, I think the least you can do is give me some answers so I have a good idea of who I’m working with.” 

You eye him up. “This is a presentation, Park Jimin, not a date.” 

“What’s not a date?” Kim Taehyung slides up to the pair of you. He looks between the two of you glaring at each other. “Hold on, is that code for something? Are you guys planning a rendezvous? Either way, this is a really weird way to flirt…” 

“We’re not flirting,” Jimin cuts in, sighing again when he seems to process who is next to him. He runs a hand through his hair. “What are you doing here?” 

Taehyung blinks. “I saw you and thought I’d say hello. If I had known I’d be walking into this very angry form of eye-fucking then I’d—!” 

“Do you have selective hearing?” You cut in. “Your friend already said we weren’t flirting. Which is true, we definitely aren’t.” 

Taehyung looks at you, seeming to realize who you are right off the bat. This is probably because Taehyung is popular and charming and generally knows all the students who reside in this castle. Not being able to identify you gives him an exact answer to your name. “Hey, you’re—!” 

“Leaving.” You turn around. Damn you, for twirling in a way that makes your skirt spin around. And damn Jimin, for watching that. 

“... the new girl,” Taehyung says to nobody, voice lowering considerably as soon as you gave both boys your back. Knowing he won’t get his answer from you, he turns to Jimin. “That was the new girl, right?” 

“Yes, Taehyung,” Jimin answers. “That was the new girl. And my life is officially over.” 

.

Jimin hadn’t been exaggerating when he delivered the news to Taehyung. The universe setting you and Jimin up to be partners on an assignment that circled around being on the same page and constructing something cohesive? That in itself, especially with two individuals with such strong opinions, is just a recipe for disaster. 

To be fair, the first meeting you and Jimin have isn’t a disaster. 

Not immediately, at least. 

“For the last time,” You say, rubbing at your temples. “We’re not going to do a presentation about your study habits and the grades you’ve received since your first year. Actually, not only are we not going to do that, I refuse to follow along in something that stupid.” 

Jimin feigns an innocent pout. “But the assignment is to talk about our experience at Hogwarts—and I really think my own history is the only thing we can go off of! And my experience is getting good grades, so it seems like the shoe fits pretty well on that one.” 

“Because you have nothing else better to talk about,” You grumble underneath your breath, straightening up and leaning back slightly when Jimin turns to glare at you. You hold up your hands in mock defense. 

“Ha, ha, very funny. At least I would have something to talk about. You’ve been at Hogwarts for, what, a few weeks? What would you talk about? Interrupting class lectures and bending over for the smartest student at school, like what’s that about—?” 

The flat of your palm goes straight for his collarbone. “Will you shut up about that?” You hiss. 

“Ouch!” Jimin whines, running his own hand over the place you hit him. “What the fuck—!” 

“Excuse me,” Madam Pince interjects from behind both of you. “Mr. Park, I’m surprised that I need to remind you of all people that the library is not a place for noise!” 

Jimin winces. “Sorry Madam Pince.” He waits until aforementioned Madam Pince is out of earshot before whipping back around to face you. “Nice going, fucker. You’re lucky I’m not a mean person otherwise I’d make your life a living hell for that stunt.” 

“‘I’m not a mean person’ he says,” You quote. “While he yells at me and calls me a fucker.” 

Jimin leans forward to rest his head into the palm of his hands. “We’re never going to get anything done, are we?” 

“And, by the way, what is your obsession with talking about me bending over for you?” You bring up, shoving one of your textbooks out of the way. You are able to turn more comfortably this time, resting your elbow on the table with your body facing towards Jimin. “You like watching people squirm or something?” 

At that, he peeks out through the gaps of his fingers to look at you. Immediately, his eyes land on your bare knees, where your skirt probably would have been had you not been moving around previously in a way that caused the fabric to rise up. The fabric is now at your thigh, with your legs spread enough due to your quick movements. His eyes flicker down to the junction, darkened by the shadow casted by your skirt, leaving enough to the imagination. 

He shuts his eyes, the previous flickers undetectable because of his hands blocking the way, but he cannot help the racing of his heart. He feels as if he just did something risky, thrilling, dirty. 

Although who is he kidding. He did, in fact, do something risky, thrilling, and dirty all in one subtle glance. The knowledge of this only frustrates him further. Did you position your legs like that on purpose? Did you know that he would notice—just as he’s noticed you since your very first day in class? Today, though, it feels different. Beyond just the normal bounds of frustration, there’s a curiosity. More than curiosity, there’s a flashing image behind his eyes. 

One of what it would feel like to have your thighs around his waist. 

There’s a twitch between his legs. 

“Not just anyone,” He returns instead. 

You’re looking at him, legs still parted. “You wanna give me an idea of what that’s like, Park Jimin?” 

Jimin continues to look at you, taking in your amused, curious, serious expression and the realization pings through his mind. You are doing this on purpose. You’re trying to test him, mess with him, and you are enjoying it—as you have been since he threatened you in the library. Just as you’ve done with staring at his mouth, when you brushed the hem of your skirt over his arm, and especially now. You aren’t stupid. You’ve seen his lingering eyes in the same way he’s noticed yours. You’re trying to see how far you can push him before he snaps. 

He decides to ignore the fleeting distraction between his legs as he turns back to the opened textbook on his desk. “Unfortunately for you, you don’t fall in that category. Your curiosity is cute, though.” 

“Hm.” You hum, finally turning back towards the desk and finally closing your legs and finally removing the distraction from his line of sight. “That’s a pity.” 

He shrugs. “Since it seems like you do enjoy the thought of squirming around for me, maybe stay out of my way and I’ll consider showing you what that could be about.” 

You actually laugh at that, a soft sound—appropriate, considering both of you were in a library, but something almost… whimsy? And pretty? What was happening? 

At that, Jimin cannot help his own exhale of air, as he looks at you with eyebrows furrowed. “What’s so funny?” 

You hum again, shrugging as you pull your school bag forward to stuff it with parchment and books. “Oh, nothing.” You straighten out of the seat, shouldering your bag. “You just admitted that I’m in your way. And that’s exactly where I intend to stay.” 

He flickers his gaze down to your bag. “Hold on, where do you think you’re going? We still have a whole presentation to draft.” 

“Oh, I’m just doing some extra credit for Professor Binns,” You answer. “Besides, we basically have a whole fall quarter to work on it. Besides, your ideas aren’t exactly thought-provoking as they are. More than that, they suck. Come up with something better.”  

“What, so it’s my job to come up with the different topics we’ll have to cover?” Jimin huffs.

You give him a vaguely surprised look. “You’re the one who said you were the only one with relevant ideas.” You glance down at your watch. “Listen, I really have to go. Come up with something better. Or ask me for my opinion next time and actually be willing to listen to it.” You deliver a sickly sweet smile, one that he wishes to wipe off. Maybe with some harsh words. 

Or maybe his mouth—! 

He tells himself it’s not creepy to watch your hips sway side to side as you leave the library. 

Once you are gone, this leaves Jimin by himself, surrounded by people but alone in his thoughts. The banter has left him with a racing heart and, quite frankly, a semi in his slacks that he doesn’t think is going away anytime soon. Everytime he thinks he has a handle on what just happened, he gets a flash of your skirt or your lips or your hips and the memory of you being an absolute fucking brat—and that feeling comes back. 

That feeling is one of pure frustration, a desire to just shove you against a wall, to see if he could swallow up all those words that do such a good job of riling him up. 

He grits his teeth before moving to collect his own items of books and paperwork. Stuffing them into his bag, he begins to exit the library, hoping that each step he took would be a step away from that terrible idea. He couldn’t let you win—he couldn’t let you get to him. 

. 

The second meeting he has with you couldn’t entirely be defined as an actual meeting. But it’s an encounter, and it involves a conversation about the project—which fits the requirements of what a meeting technically could entail. 

It happens a week after the first meeting, of seeing each other in classes but both of you making an active attempt to ignore each other. Both doing it for different reasons, but doing it nonetheless. 

However, this changes when Jimin gets an idea for the project that he knows he needs to run by you. Assuming you don’t bark at him for lacking originality and assuming he could get through a proper interaction without shoving you against the wall. That latter thought has been getting increasingly more difficult as the week dragged on. You, with your stupid mini skirts and tucked in button-ups, your stupider display of legs that has piqued his interest more than any other member of the female population prior—a feat that is unbelievably stupid given that legs in itself isn’t a novel thing—along with your even stupidest strut down the hallways. Whether those things have been intentional or not, he honestly feels as if one wrong move could crack this facade he’s spent the week putting together. 

He decides to pursue you after the shared Muggle Studies class you have together, when you’re out in the hallway and he’s following close behind. He doesn’t know your next destination, assuming you have one—because honestly, it’s been a few weeks since your official enrollment and he has yet to see you with a group of friends. 

Instead, he elects to just ignore that internal question, and make his way towards you. 

He matches stride with you. “Hear me out.” 

You groan immediately. “Haven’t I heard enough of you already?” 

That is true. The lesson in Muggle Studies had involved watching and talking about a muggle film and, naturally, Jimin had a lot to say. 

Jimin grins. “Are you saying that none of my discussions were enticing enough for you, sweetheart?” 

You glare at him. “What did I say about the sweetheart thing?” 

You had warned him plenty. However, it’s worth seeing the angry flush along your cheeks. He tries at an answer too. “That you would bend over for me if I kept calling you by it?” 

Your eyes narrow. “I’d choose your next words carefully, Park Jimin.” 

“So serious,” He remarks, tearing his gaze from you. 

You sigh. “Anyways, what are you even doing right now? Talking to me once a week to pick a fight seems desperate, especially for you.” 

“I’m not trying to pick a fight—!” He cuts himself off. “I really did have a reason for catching up to you.” He stills. He really did forget what he had approached you for. “Shit, okay, give me a second.” 

“Don’t hurt yourself.” 

He ignores you. “Oh! Right! For the project. Actually here, let’s talk somewhere else.” Without a warning, he grabs your arm and practically drags you into one of the empty classrooms. It’s a room for astronomy labs—an open-spaced classroom with a high ceiling in case Professor Sinistra needed to recreate certain astronomical events not available during specific quarters or times of day. The ceiling is a navy color, dusted with tiny stars and constellations at the top, and rows of desks and empty seats around. 

You and Jimin settle yourselves near the front of the classroom—close to the door but not close enough where a wrong move would send you out into the hallway. 

When Jimin closes the door, you’re still watching him warily with arms over your chest. “Is your idea that good that you have to pull me into an empty classroom for it?” 

“Well, I’m just saving you the embarrassment in case my idea happens to be good, you start cheering me on.” 

You sigh. “Well, try me then, Park Jimin.” 

“Alright,” He starts. “I hear you when you tell me just talking about my grades isn’t enough.” 

“I didn’t say it wasn’t enough, I said that idea was dumb as shit—!” 

He ignores you again. “So how about we talk about different aspects of Hogwarts. We can talk about things like the classes, Quidditch, spell-casting, the newspaper, and the role of the Head Boy.” 

You do actually ponder this for a moment, but you’re extremely observant. He knows immediately that you’re about to spit something from the way you narrow your eyebrows. “Why be so specific? And what am I supposed to talk about from that limited pool of topics?” 

He gives you a straightforward look. “I thought we already established that you would have nothing to talk about.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “I didn’t think you were serious about that.” 

“Well, as you should know sweetheart, I’m very serious all of the time.” 

“Are you fucking stupid?” You’re glaring now. “Do you not remember Professor McGonagall telling us that this was a team project? We have to work together. If the Ministry comes to the realization that, no, we did not put together a cohesive presentation highlighting our own personal journeys and no, contrary to your pea brain, the presentation should never have centered around you in the first place, we’re going to be in deep shit. Professor McGonagall will probably have us shunned for the rest of the school year, we’ll definitely lose that internship opportunity with the Ministry and my father would—!” You cut yourself off immediately, wide-eyed at your own slip of the mouth. 

Jimin raises an eyebrow at that. What does your father have to do with acing the presentation at the Ministry? The realization hits him pretty quick at that. “Oh, okay I see. So daddy was the one who requested your involvement on this team—?” 

Your eyes, once wide with emotion and tinged with vaguely defined fear, harden. “How about you mind your own business and not resort to asking really inappropriate questions about my family life?” You snap. 

“Woah, alright, I’ll stop,” Jimin interjects, raising both hands up. “If this is what I get for trying to be your friend.” 

“For the last time,” You grit between your teeth, stepping closer to him, getting all up in his face and completely distracting him with the wash of lavender that overcomes his nostrils. There’s that delicious flush along your cheeks once again. “We are not friends. And don’t hold your breath because we’ll never be friends. I would never associate myself with anyone at this school, much less a vile, arrogant, disrespectful, terribly overrated individual like you—!” 

Jimin doesn’t have an explanation for what he does next. He almost doesn’t even have control over his actions, like his body has a mind of his mind. One moment, he’s staring at you, far enough to still see your entire face but close enough to see the fire in your eyes. 

And then the next moment, his eyes are closed and there’s something soft and warm against his lips. He’s kissing you. 

The following seconds feel like minutes or hours, ticking slowly in contrast to Jimin’s thrumming heart. His fingers curl around something soft and textured: your hair. His lips, on his own unawareness, are moving frantically against yours—either to get his frustration out or get you to respond, he isn’t too sure. 

It isn’t until his tongue pushes against your lips that he hears a whimper from the back of your throat that stirs up his insides like nothing else you’ve done to him before. He feels your fingers at the back of his neck, in his hair, nails digging into the skin, all before you part your lips. His boldness increases at the gesture, pressing harder against you. 

The weight of him makes you take steps back, until both of you are moving about the classroom completely unaware of your surroundings. But Jimin doesn’t care, hardly even notices that you’re backing up. Every step you take back is matched with a step forward by him as he continues his attack on your mouth.

That is, until you hit one of the desks and the legs of the table scrap against the floor. The noise is like a bell that sets off in Jimin’s head. It goes off in your mind as well, actually, because you’re both quick to separate and push each other off. You stare at each other, wide-eyed and face flushed for entirely different reasons in comparison to a few seconds ago. Your lips are a deeper shade of red, and wet, and you look shocked. The expression is so opposite of the usual stern and stark that paints your face, so you appear surprisingly vulnerable. 

For a moment, neither of you say anything. You simply stand there, taking in each other, as Jimin asks himself the same question over and over again. What the fuck just happened? 

Unable to conjure up an answer to that, Jimin draws in a shaky breath. “Don’t tell anyone about this,” He whispers, immediately turning around and shoving open the door to the classroom and letting it slam shut behind him. He doesn’t look back, refuses to picture your expression in his mind because picturing it would make him second guess his decision. 

Instead, he maintains his quick pace down the hallway, ignoring the calls of his name by peers and friends. His gaze is hyper focused on being somewhere other than here. So much so that he ends up shouldering his way into the boy’s bathroom, pacing past the row of toilet doors until he reaches the sinks and mirrors along the edge. He goes to one of the sinks as his palms come up to grip both sides of the sink. His eyes flint up, gazing at his reflection and taking it all in: from the flush of his own cheeks, the deeper red tint of his lips, the craze look in his eyes—like he wants more. Like he wanted more of you.

With a scoff, he rips his gaze away from the mirror and instead turns around to lean against the edge of the sink. 

It’s not like he’s never kissed girls before. He has. Just never anyone who makes him as annoyed as you make him. This type of dynamic is new and involves unsure elements, a new game that he doesn’t know how to play. 

Apparently, it’s one you don’t know how to play either. 

.

It’s another three weeks of awkward stares, no eye contact, and one of you dashing out of classrooms first to avoid having to see each other in the hallway, until Professor McGonagall calls you back into her office. The space is naturally very reminiscent of the first meeting the three of you had together, but the tone is weighed down by tension and the obvious fact that you and Jimin are avoiding each other and have been avoiding each other for weeks. 

The fact that the two of you refuse to look at each other is the first sign of this emotional conflict. Pair that with the lack of snappy banter, and all that contributes to the raised eyebrow Professor McGonagall gives both of you. 

You look at Jimin out of the corner of your eye and seem to come to the conclusion that he isn’t going to participate. Which you are right, he has no intention of opening his mouth. 

“Is something the matter, Professor?” 

“I just thought I would have a little meeting to touch base with the both of you,” Professor McGonagall answers, shifting her gaze thoughtfully between you and Jimin. “I was seeing you hold meetings in the library on a few occasions, but there’s been an absence of that recently. During classes, I notice that neither of you engage in discussion and one of you is always the first to leave the room. Has there been a conflict of interest going on regarding the project?” 

Jimin exhales a breath, wondering if you were going to spill the beans. Not explicitly, but you’ll probably start talking about how recent developments made you feel too nervous or too cautious to continue working with him—that you’d rather stop, or that you’d rather have Jimin step down. The kiss had been his fault, after all. 

You take a few seconds to come up with your answer. “We were having some disagreements about the direction of the project,” You say at last, saying the words slowly and carefully and surprising Jimin. “So we haven’t talked for a little while, I think we just needed to collect our thoughts and come up with individual ideas, and then actually meet up and discuss rather than trying to grow something together.” 

Professor McGonagall nods at that. “I understand. Well, if that’s the case. It seems the only advice I could give you both is to work through your problems. In other words, figure it out. There’s a lot riding on this project.” 

The pair of you are then dismissed with a finality in her words. A warning. 

Unlike previous interactions like sharing class together or running into one another in the halls, neither of you make a move to separate to run away. You linger near each other, awkward still, knowing that you both need to make amends and move past the incident but not sure how to do so. 

“We should probably talk about this,” You say after a moment. You aren’t looking at him. 

Jimin thinks about this. He sighs. “You’re right. I know a spot we can talk.” Turning around, he starts down the hallway. Your shoes echo against the castle walls, the high ceilings and long hallways that twist and turn. It’s much later into the night—the dinner crowd has dispersed back to respected common rooms or to the library for last minute studies. As a result, most of the hallways are devoid of students. The hallway routes around Professor McGonagall’s office are even more empty, given that a lot of classes are not in this corner of the castle and most places don’t invite loiters. 

Jimin continues past closed doors, tall stained glass windows that bring in the moonlight. There’s a silence between you, not as awkward as it had been, but definitely filled with a veil of tension and lots of unanswered questions. 

Finally, Jimin stops at a door not unlike the several other doors the pair of you had passed in your quest to get here. You’re about to ask what he’s doing and where he’s leading you and if he plans to kidnap you—because this kind of location in this kind of space would be perfect—before he’s muttering a password under his breath and opening the door. He keeps it open for you to enter the space first. 

It’s a small classroom, only big enough to house a whiteboard at the end of the room, a long table right in front of the board, and a few desks in the middle for students. There’s a long window along the other side of the wall, and curtains draped in front of the glass. 

You turn to look at him. This place is too suspiciously perfect for private conversations. “What is this place?” 

“It’s a space for the Head Boy,” Jimin explains, closing the door behind him. “It kind of doubles as a private study and a place for Yoongi to run detentions. But he lets me come here sometimes when I need more privacy.” 

“So not only do you have professors up your ass, but the school’s Head Boy too?” You ask, whirling around to give him a judgmental glance.

“Don’t come in here just to insult me,” Jimin snaps back. “You’re pretty dead set on putting up walls; that doesn’t mean I’m not either. So, not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve been friends with Yoongi for years. No ass kissing in that.” 

You stare at him for a moment longer before turning back to look at the room. “You’re right.” 

He figures it’s the best apology he’ll get from you. 

“Alright,” He says after a moment. He watches the way you turn around to face him. “I’m just gonna put this out here, because we need to get our shit together. I do apologize for kissing you. It was rash and inappropriate. If you want me to step down from the project, I’ll understand.” 

You raise an eyebrow at him. “By you understanding, does that mean you would step down?” 

Jimin stares at you. “Well, I mean, no, but it would be more of an incentive to talk about this.” 

“Of course,” You grumble, running a hand through your head. “Well, you’re in luck. I have no intention in asking you to step down from the project. I might even go as far to say that I think you’re mildly attractive, which is why I didn’t have a problem with you doing that.” 

“Well, that’s good to hear. I think you’re vaguely attractive too.” 

You nod. “Always reassuring to hear it like that.” 

“But see, this is good. We’re getting this out here,” Jimin says, gesturing between the two of you. “I kissed you because of this tension between us, but because it ended abruptly that tension never got any closure. We’re still in this limbo phase.” 

You keep your gaze on Jimin. You seem to be pondering his words. Somehow, he’s able to tell that you’re not entirely turned off by his conclusion—probably because you’re still standing close enough to him that your Hogwarts ropes were touching. “You make a good point.”

“Mm, well of course I do,” He says, keeping his gaze on you. “I’m Park Jimin.” 

You wrinkle your nose at that. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

He smirks, still looking at you, and shrugs a shoulder. “I should be able to flatter myself a little. I kissed you, didn’t get snapped out by you, so I’d consider it a worthy endeavor.” 

“Well, you shouldn’t waste your breath just yet,” You interrupt, voice growing progressively softer given the proximity. “I’m not sure if that should really count as a kiss considering the inappropriate and abrupt nature of it all.” 

At that, Jimin turns hot. “I already apologized for that.” 

You smile, a mere curl of your lips, as your hands find their place on his shoulders. At the gesture, his hands automatically go to your waist—a natural place, given the memory of the last time you had your hands around his neck. “And how about you ask to kiss me the way a normal person who is attracted to another person would ask—?” 

Your voice cuts off when Jimin shoves you even closer to him, bodies pressed against one another. “You really know how to be a brat, don’t you?” 

Your smile widens. You lean towards him, nose brushing against his. “I don’t see you asking, Park Jimin—!” 

He shuts you up by slamming his lips against yours. Fingers curl around the back of your neck to keep you in place. He kisses you roughly, lips pushing against yours and sucking the air from your lungs. He pulls away moments later, lips still brushing against one another, heavy breathing filling his ears. “For someone claiming I needed permission to kiss you, you definitely know how to keep your mouth shut to help me get what I want.” 

You groan. “You really have to have the last word in everything, don’t you?” 

“Not true.” 

You sigh, digging your nails into the nape of his neck. You kiss him this time, parting your lips right away as Jimin becomes distracted with sliding his tongue into your mouth. His desire for control comes up again, stepping forward and continuing to move with every step backwards you take. 

Hitting the teacher’s desk at the front of the room is so unlike the last time. The scrap of the metal against the floor had awoken Jimin from the reality of what could have happened—but now it heightens his senses, leaves his heart racing because he knows what will happen next and he desires nothing more. 

Eyes still closed, he uses his hand to leave your waist and feel down the length of your skirt. He confirms that he’s reached the hem by tugging at the end of the fabric. “I hate this thing,” He growls. “You’re always making it sway when you walk, always drawing attention to this damn piece of clothing.” 

You smirk against his lips. “I made you look, though…” You trail off, voice pitching into a sigh when Jimin pulls away from your mouth. Immediately, he kisses at your jawline, down your neck. “Jimin—ee!” You squeal as Jimin’s hands go from on top of your skirt to underneath, fingers dancing up your bare thigh. “I thought you were going to fuck me.” 

The actual four letter word makes Jimin groan, makes his blood boil, makes his slacks feel a little tighter. “What happened to asking?” 

“Oh, because you were so good at that—!” You choke, the breath catching in your throat as you jump at the sensation of Jimin’s fingers pressing against your clothed clit. Your eyes develop a foggy complexion. 

“What was that?” Jimin asks, smirking at the dazed look across your features. Seeing you look like this is so different and intriguing, considering the rarity of seeing you off your guard. He wonders how far he can take it, how much he can do to make sure it’s not words of insult that are passing lips. 

You press your lips together, shaking your head. The whimper comes back as Jimin starts drawing circles against the bundle of nerves, slow paced but small movements. The fabric of your panties are thin, enough so that he can feel your clit, and enough to come to the realization that you’re—! 

“Wet,” Jimin grumbles. 

Your cheeks heat at the realization, something you hadn’t even been entirely sure of yourself. 

Jimin leans forward to peck your lips once, twice. “It’s hot.” He deepens the kiss, distracting you as his finger curls around the underside of your panties.

You suck in a breath as he runs a finger up and down your slit before sinking a finger into your heat. “Nn—Jimin,” You whisper, moving one of your arms to curl the fingers around his bicep. It’s a shallow thrusting of his finger, more about preparation and feeling than actually trying to make you cum. But the sensation floods your nerves all the same. 

“You’re so hot, I can only just imagine what this’ll feel like wrapped around my cock,” Jimin comments hoarsely, pulling his one finger out. The next time he slides in, it’s two fingers and the slight stretch makes your eyes squeeze together. 

“J-Jimin,” You choke out. The wet sounds of friction between your legs begins to fill the room. “That feels so good, fuck…” 

“Mm, does it now?” Jimin inquires softly. With every upward movement of his fingers into your pussy, the sensation of your walls tightening against his digits goes entirely to his head. It feels like he’s making mental notes of your reactions. You’re a sensitive little thing, and it’s a fact he really wouldn’t mind testing out more. “You still want me to fuck you?” 

“Yes, yes, I do, come here,” You urge softly, bringing him forward to kiss you again. 

Slowly, his fingers slide out of you, and you whimper at the emptiness he’s leaving you behind with. His hands leave from in between your thighs, traveling out of your skirt and resting at your waist. Without a warning, he hoists you up onto the desk. He moves you back just enough to give you instructions: 

“Put your feet on the table for me.” 

Legs twitching slightly, you do as you’re told. Your heels rest on the edge of the desk. At the gesture, the hem of your skirt moves downwards, flashing your panties right at Jimin. He has a momentary flashback to that first meeting in the library—your legs spread atop a chair, the skirt casting a shadow between your legs. 

Now, he no longer has to wallow in that curiosity. Black panties flash right in his line of sight, and his dick feels even more constrained as he steps forward and reaches out to tuck his fingers underneath the waistband. With a nod from you, he pulls the fabric up and down your legs, and past your shoes. He pockets the material. 

You notice the action immediately. “Need a spank bank collection, Park?” 

At that, he shrugs, even though both of you know the answer to that. “Depends on how good this is,” He says casually. You and Jimin know this is a lie. He already knows this is going to be good. Above anything, the tent in his pants is a clear giveaway to that. You watch as he pulls his belt from out of the belt loops, tugs the leather off of his waist. He barely brings his pants down, he just reaches in and comes back out with his cock, pretty and leaking at the tip. His thumb brushes at it, spreading the pre-cum across his length. 

You whine at the sight, tossing your head back slightly as your legs come out to drag Jimin towards you by the waist. “I’ve seen enough, please fuck me, please—!” You whimper as Jimin pulls your legs off his waist. He brings his arms underneath your legs, bending it at the knees as he inches forward to rest his hands on the table. Untouched, his dick hovers right where you want him the most, and you whine again. 

“I’m just preparing, baby,” He explains softly, almost patronizingly, but you don’t seem to mind the tone. “Don’t want to hurt you before I even get the chance to fuck you.” 

“You’ll never know until you put—it—in—oh!” You gasp, the tip of Jimin’s dick hovering at your entrance. One of Jimin’s hands moves from underneath your leg to wrap around the base of his cock, running it up and down your folds. He takes one last look at your expression: wide eyes and parted lips, before he looks back down between your legs. He watches as his cock disappears between your folds, immediately enveloping him in your hot, tight walls, a pressure that increases when you clench around him. 

Jimin grunts, tilting his head back. “Fuck, you’re tight.” 

You’re breathing heavily now. Your arms are resting behind you to keep you level, allowing your fingers to tighten around the edges of the desk. Your toes curl in your shoes. “Jimin—shit.” You jolt slightly when Jimin’s hand moves from the base of his dick to your clit. His thumb rests on the nub, immediately drawing circles against the nerves to relax you through the stretch. You whine, a noise from the back of your throat that makes the blood rush even quicker through Jimin’s body. It fills him with a desire to fill you up, to make you scream. 

He continues to push in until he reaches the hilt, the feeling of you around him is so snug and warm that he cannot help his own groan. His finger moves from your clit and curls around the knee of your unoccupied leg. Using his arm to keep your knee bent, his hand travels back to its original position on the desk, allowing both of your legs to be spread apart for him. 

Jimin looks up towards you, leaning forward to kiss you. “You still with me?” 

You nod. “Yes, fuck, you can fuck me now.” 

The permission makes his head spin as he nods. “Fuck, okay.” He begins to pull away until all that’s left inside you is his tip. With a snap of his hips, he drives himself back into you. 

The full sensation against your walls lights up your nerves, allowing it to pass through your entire body as your legs twitch and you throw your head back. “Fuck,” You whisper, mostly to yourself as your walls start to tighten and untighten at the sensation. 

This, in turn, drives a choke from Jimin’s throat. “Stop clenching around me!” 

You level your gaze with Jimin’s once more, but you have a hazy look in your eyes. “Gonna prove to me that you’re a one dump pump or something, Park?” 

He stares at you, long and hard. “I’m gonna make you regret saying that.” He pulls out again, all the way to the tip, and thrusts back in sharply. You gasp. But it doesn’t stop this time. He picks a pace, not too fast but he goes deep. The snark in your eyes is gone. The noises in your throat are no longer words but noises instead: whimpers and whines. 

The coil starts to tighten in your belly. “J-Jimin,” You wail, using what little strength you have in your arms to push yourself into a straighten sitting position. This brings you closer to Jimin. Without a warning, you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into the collar of his robes. It seems like this is to muffle the sounds coming from your throat. “Ngh, Jimin, feels so good, fuck…” 

His fingers curl around the edges of the desk as he picks up the pace. Your knees start to twitch above his arms. “You trying to escape me, sweetheart?” He asks right in your ear, breath against your neck. “Look at you. You just have to take what I give you.” That’s true. He’s keeping your legs spread, leaving you unable to escape or move away. 

You’re gasping now. “Jimin, I’m gonna come.” 

Jimin hums, pulling his hand away from your arm once again and returning his fingers to your clit. When he rubs at you this time, it’s quicker and faster and you clamp up immediately. “Then come.” 

“Mmmm,” You sob, arching your back right into his body. For a brief moment, everything is tight, hot, and overwhelming, before the coil snaps and you wither in his arms. One of your own hands slam down onto the desk, as you try to grip onto the smooth surface of the table either to give you a new sense of bearings or pull away from him, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t acknowledge it either, too focused on thrusting into you until he’s finding his own release. 

He grunts, pushing into you until he’s at the hilt as he spills himself into you. The blood is no longer in Jimin’s ear, no longer drowning up the sounds of pleasure and desperation. Instead, it fills the air with the sounds: the gasps and heavy breathing. You, halfway lying on the desk. And Jimin, hovering closely over you, still joined together.

“Shit,” You whisper, untangling your other hand from Jimin’s neck and freeing you to lie entirely on the surface of the table. Jimin watches you carefully, gently putting down your legs so they can rest against the table. 

“Lift your bottom for me,” Jimin instructs, lifting the hem of your skirt up to bunch the fabric at your waist. With your entire bottom exposed, he’s able to see himself inside you all over again. Slowly, he pulls himself out. You whimper at that. But Jimin doesn’t say anything. He watches, throat dry, as he watches the white substance of his cum spill out of you. He reaches out, collecting it around his finger, before going back up to your slit and pushing his finger into you. 

You arch your back at that, crying out softly at the overstimulation. You push yourself to your elbows, watching him sink his finger back into you. “What are you doing?” You ask breathlessly. 

“Trying to make as small a mess as possible,” Jimin explains, pushing his finger in as far as it could go. “You wanna go back to the common room with stains over your robes?” 

You stare at him, some of that haziness gone and replaced with your usual thoughtful expression. “You make a good point.” 

Jimin is able to wipe the rest of the stains on the sleeves of his white polo, something that will be hidden underneath his robes. He watches as you hop off the desk, smoothing down your skirt and down your hair.

You look over at him. “How do I look?” 

He gives a careful once-over. “How about this: if I saw you in the hallway, I wouldn’t have assumed you just got fucked.” 

The corner of your lips curl up. “Well, that’s probably as good as it’ll get—!” 

“Plus I’m sure other people don’t have the same observational skills as I do, so you’re probably fine.” 

“There it is.” 

“And how was it?” Jimin asks as he opens the door to the classroom and allows you to walk back into the hallway of the castle first. “Do you think we got that closure to the tension?” 

“We are talking,” You point out as you walk side-by-side with Jimin. “And you don’t have that look in your eyes anymore.” 

He stops at that. “What look?” 

You stop alongside him and give him a smirk. “That strained look, like the one you gave me before you kissed me.” 

Allowing your eyes to linger on each other for a moment longer, you break that connection by turning your head and continuing down the hallway. 

.

For someone so good at calculating and organizing his life, Park Jimin missed out a whole factor in his equation to success at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

That factor is you. 

Now, he’s had his fair share of flings, makeout sessions, and sexual encounters with members of the female population. Of course he has. He isn’t friends with jocks like Jeon Jungkook or pranksters like Jung Hoseok for nothing—he’s been to those parties in the Room of Requirement and has held up his own in conversations with flirtatious qualms. As someone who trumps logic over emotion, it has never been hard for Jimin to set aside his emotions when something is meant to be a one time thing. 

But you. You. You. He really hasn’t accounted for you to linger about in his life the way you have. Mostly, he hasn’t accounted to think about your insults, your sighs, and your whimpers the way he actually has. 

It’s hard to tell if you’re feeling the same way. When you’re in study labs together for any class such as charms, muggle studies, or astronomy, he could always swear that your gaze would linger on him for moments too long before switching away. When you two are paired up for potions, the conversations are vague and pertain to the lessons, but it all feels layered with something new. A new unspoken desire, perhaps? 

He can’t really get a read on the situation, and that’s the most frustrating aspect of it all. 

“Park Jimin?” It’s Professor McGonagall’s voice, one that startles Jimin out of his trance. Jung Jaehyun ducks to hide his laughter. 

Jimin blinks, looking up to realize that Professor McGonagall is standing right in front of him, a stack of parchment in her arms and a curious look in her eyes. He’s currently in the middle of his transfiguration lesson. The professor raises an eyebrow, but still pulls a parchment from the stack and passes it down to him. A -1 stares him back up at him, and Jimin feels his heart beat. Although this score is for a mere homework assignment, the grade seems like a weight on his shoulders. 

“Is that a minus one, Park?” Jaehyun asks, leaning over and getting into Jimin’s space. “On a homework assignment? What happened there?” 

Jimin looks over the assignment. “I guess I didn’t add enough detail to one of my answers.” He looks back at Jaehyun, watching Professor McGonagall hand him his graded assignment. The corner of his lips quirk up. “You’re one to talk, Jung. Minus five? You better keep your grades up if you want to stay on the House Team.” 

“Hey, you should see JK’s grades,” Jaehyun retorts. “I swear, that boy was hanging by a thread on some of the recent assignments. Did you know he didn’t even realize he had an astronomy essay due for class until that waitress at the Three Broomsticks had to remind him?” 

Jimin grins. “That I remember. You’ve done good keeping an eye on your competition.” Almost unconsciously, he finds himself flinting his gaze towards you only to find that you’re staring right back at him. 

You raise an eyebrow at him. Just from a look, Jimin knows what you’re asking him. What did you get?

Feeling vaguely embarrassed about his score, he shrugs. Instead of answering, he jerks his chin towards you. What about you? 

You seem to know the reason behind his desire to keep his score a secret from you. You smirk, turning over your parchment and flashing it towards him. A -0 reads at the top. “Pretty good, huh?” You mouth to him. 

Jimin flicks his wand underneath the desk. A gust of wind comes out and the parchment flies forward to smack you on the face. 

A burst of laughter rings through the classroom as Professor McGonagall whirls around. Having not seen the events leading up to the smack, she narrows her eyes at you. “Miss. Y/N, I don’t believe your perfect grade called for a hit to the face.” 

You sink into your seat just enough. “Sorry professor,” You grumble, turning to give the side eye to Jimin. 

He is wrong to think that you wouldn’t do anything about his little spell. 

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” You ask as soon as you catch up to Jimin after class is dismissed. Ever since the “Tension-Easing Experiment”, as Jimin liked to label it and no it wasn’t something he had run by you since you’re both not really eager to brush on that topic in detail ever since it had happened, you’ve both been pleasant enough to each other. This conversation starter falls under that list. “Casting spells on me, I thought that task belonged to Jung Hoseok.” 

“Perhaps I have learned a thing or two from him.” 

You hum at that. “Guess there are some things you can’t fully grasp just from reading textbooks all day.” 

He glares at you. “Did you need something today?” 

You look back at him. “We have our weekly project meet-up.” 

He blinks. “What weekly project meet-up?” 

“Well, when Professor McGonagall gave us the assignment, we were meeting up once a week to exchange ideas,” You say slowly. “We stopped because…” 

Oh right, I kissed you in the astronomy lab room, Jimin thinks when you trail off. 

You clear your throat. “But since we’re talking again…” 

Because we had sex. 

“I figured it was as good a time as ever to get back into it. Besides, I do have an idea I’d figure I should bounce off of you.” 

Jimin stares at you for a moment. Takes in your eyes, your lips, your robe and the clothes you’ve gone on underneath the thick material. You’ve got your hair up into a half-up-half-down ponytail today. Dare he say, you look nice today. “Alright then. Should we go to the library?” 

“Actually…” You cut in, shrugging and not meeting Jimin’s eye this time around. “I was thinking we could go back to your friend’s private study room? Since we are talking, and it is exam season. You know, I wouldn’t want to disrupt the other students trying to go over their class material.” 

This is true. Midterm season at Hogwarts is underway and lots of peers are starting to lose the light in their eyes. There seems to be a hidden weight in your words, plagued with an idea of ulterior motives, but Jimin is suddenly taken by curiosity to mind. “Uh—right. Sure. Pretty sure Yoongi isn’t running a detention today.” 

Even if Yoongi had assigned a detention, which he probably did considering this was Min Yoongi, it was unlikely he’d use his private study. In fact, Jimin vaguely recalls Yoongi saying he had a meeting. So he leads the way down the hallways and past the large windows. The pathway is familiar to him, given how many times he’s taken this route, and it’s not long before he’s uttering the password under his breath and entering the space. 

It’s empty when he enters. Actually, it’s hard to tell if Yoongi had even used this office during the days between the “Tension-Easing Experiment” and today. Not that it matters, as you and Jimin push two desks together and take a seat. You slide your robe off this time and rest it at the back of your chair. 

“Alright, so what’s this idea of yours?” 

You lean back in the chair. “It’s brilliant, if you ask me.” 

He smirks. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

You smile slightly at that, turning back towards your desk and curling a finger around your hair. “I thought we might as well keep it simple and play to our strengths.” You look at him. “You’re known being this really charming guy, and from what I understand you’re friends with lots of different guys who are talented in their own unique ways. I think we need to split our presentation into two parts. Your section would be talking about growing up at Hogwarts—how you’ve made your group of friends and how you’ve centered yourself in activities and conversations. Then I’ll come in and talk about how despite transferring during the last year of school, everyone and everything is really adjustable and nice about being a new student.” 

“Hm.” Jimin ponders this. You’ve figured out a way to take what he had mentioned, albeit jokingly, and organize a way for you to be involved yet still be connected to his original topic. “It’s not bad, you can be smart sometimes when you want to be.” 

“I’m always smart—a lot smarter than you, so it seems,” You return back. You angle the chair towards Jimin and sit back. “Speaking of, what happened with your homework assignment today? Didn’t want to show off your own -0? Or perhaps did you get extra credit out of thin air?” 

“Ha, ha, very funny,” Jimin snaps. “Contrary to that, I actually got marked off a point. Forgot to add some details to one of my answers, so it was a minor thing.” 

“The Park Jimin I know doesn’t forget to add minor details to his answers,” You point out. “What’s up with you? Does Professor McGonagall have to pull you from the project, and leave me as the sole smartest and brightest student at Hogwarts despite only being here for a month and a half?” 

“I think your critical thinking skills have to be checked,” He retorts, but it’s a half-hearted attempt to start an argument. You’re much more observant than you let on, if you’ve taken note of his behavior despite not really being his friend. Getting marked off points for minor details is something both of you have been guilty of on rare occasions, so the fact that you still notice something off leaves a strange feeling in his stomach. 

Jimin stares at you for a moment longer, only to find you staring back. Should he indulge you on the thoughts floating around in his head? Would it be worth it? 

When you raise an eyebrow, it gives him enough courage to open his mouth. 

“Actually, I have a hypothetical situation I’d like to go over with you.” 

You don’t say anything to that. It’s a sign to keep talking. 

“Say you’ve just slept with someone because you thought it would quell that seemingly moment’s sparks of attraction,” He starts. “But it’s been a few days, and you, hypothetically, can’t stop thinking about that moment. As in, you wouldn’t find sleeping with that person again. Do you indulge that curiosity? Or just leave it be, assuming that the person doesn’t feel the same about you?” 

Something flickers in your eyes. “Hm, I’m not sure, you’re being so vague it’s really hard to tell who you’re talking about.” 

He groans at that. “You’re being a brat again.” 

“You must enjoy that, don’t you?” You say back right away. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be thinking about trying to sleep with me again. Unless you ‘quell momentary sparks of attraction’ with other girls on a daily basis.” 

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you?” He retorts. “You like to think you have all this control over this situation and my feelings, but who was it that was begging me to fuck them just a few nights ago?” 

You laugh a little. “You got a point. But who still fucked me after that begging?” 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Do you really want to play that game, sweetheart?” 

You keep your gaze on him. “What game am I playing, Park Jimin?” 

Jimin looks right back at you. After a moment, he wraps his fingers underneath his chair and angles himself so that he can face you. He reaches forward until his hand rests on your thigh, right above the hem of your skirt. “Well, I have something in mind, if you’re willing to hear it.” When you don’t pull back, he continues. “Since you seem set on this idea that you’re in charge, I think I should prove to you otherwise.” 

He watches the way your jaw clenches at that. 

“First, I would ask you to slide off your panties and your skirt this time, so there’s nothing in the way of me fucking you this time,” He spells out, keeping his eyes on you for signs of slippage. The slight twitch of your thigh is the first tell. “Then, I’d get behind you, turn you around, and press you against this very desk.” He taps the desk you’re sitting in front of. “Depending on how bratty you decide to be, I’ll find a way to keep you where I want you to be. If you’re still a brat, only one of us will be finishing today—and I will tell you right now that it won’t be you.” He leans forward towards you, your eyes flickering towards his lips. “Just tell me no. Tell me you’re not interested and that you don’t look at me the same way. I’ll back off.” 

You swallow thickly at that. “What if I don’t want you to back off?” 

Things happen very quickly after the question leaves your lips. You’re the one who leans forward, you’re the one who kisses Jimin first. He responds immediately after, pulling you up by your waist until you’re straddling his lap. Gently biting at your lower lip, Jimin still has enough wit to kick the chair you were sitting on away from the desk. It scraps against the classroom floor, a noise that goes loudly unheard of over the roaring of blood in Jimin’s ears. 

Jimin pushes you off his lap, forcing you back onto your feet with Jimin following behind shortly after. You barely have time to adjust before his hands are on your waist to spin you around and pin you onto the desk in front of you. 

Jimin tightens his hold on your waist. “Look at you, little girl,” He says. The nickname brings color to your cheeks. “You talk a big game but I think when it comes to it, you like being told what to do.” After he’s gotten you settled into position, his hands leave its original position to reach the zipper of the skirt at the small of your back. “Well, since I’ve riled you up this much, we might as well follow through on one of my check-ins, huh?” 

His fingers slowly drag down the zipper of your skirt, each movement downwards rings like a bell. Jimin is so close behind you that you can feel his warmth radiating into your body, your legs. He doesn’t take his time. He pulls down the skirt and your panties until they drop at your ankles. 

A finger lingers at your entrance, checking. Jimin makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Looks like me spelling out what I was going to do to you was more effective than I thought.” 

You whine, pressing your cheek into the wood of the desk. “You don’t always have to report it like that!” 

Jimin stills at that. For a moment, the tense silence makes you think that you’ve said something wrong. But all thoughts fly out of the window when Jimin brings his hand down to slap against the back of your thigh. The gesture isn’t too hard or too loud, but it’s enough to make you whimper. “You trying to out-smart me again?” 

“N-No, I’m sorry,” You stammer, probably having a brief flashback to his threat about not letting you finish off. 

Still, Jimin scoffs. “You seem to think today will end up just like the first time: where you tell me what to do and I’ll do it—would you agree with me?” 

You clench and Jimin feels it with his fingers. “Not intentionally.” 

“Hm.” Jimin ponders, both of his hands leaving your frame to tug at the tie around his neck. He loosens it and brings the thin fabric down towards you. “I think we should really establish that I’m the one in charge today. Give me your hands.” 

Your neck turns slightly to try and catch his eye. “Jimin—!” 

“Hands, c’mon little girl, I thought you could follow directions.” Nevermind that this is probably the first time you’ve said his first name as a standalone and there’s something really intimate about that. 

You don’t say anything to that, you merely shift your body weight so you are able to rest your hands on your back. Jimin takes your wrists, bringing them together, and loops the fabric of his tie around them. Tight enough that there’s no way you could escape from it, but loose enough to provide some wiggle room. Once your wrists are secure in the tie, Jimin tugs on it to ensure it won’t undo itself. 

“This okay?” Jimin asks, albeit a little softly, but his question brings the ghost of a smile across your lips. 

You nod. “Yes.” 

“Alright then.” There’s the sound of his belt becoming undone, his fingers pulling his cock out of his pants. He lines himself up, his fingers guiding the way before he’s pushing in. The stretch is a little tighter than it had been the last time due to lack of proper foreplay. But there’s enough to get by. 

The stretch makes you feel him all the way in your gut, making your head spin as a groan emits from your throat. Your fingers curl into fists at the small of your back. “Fuck,” You let out between teeth as you shut your eyes, knowing that you just have to take what Jimin is giving you. 

Soon, the room fills with the softest grunts and groans, the desk rocking in time with his thrusts. His hands stay on his tie, on your wrists, where your fingers curl around his hand—whether for reassurance or to hold onto something solid, it’s hard to tell. 

All that matters is that Jimin notices and his heart races for something other than the physicality of what is going on. 

. 

That day in the classroom seems to create a new label in Jimin’s relationship with you. Given that both of you have seen the other person naked (twice), it brings a new level of casualness between the two of you.

It shows in how Jimin slides rather gracefully into the library, rolls of parchment in his bag and a smirk across his features. He finds you rather quickly, right by the window in a secluded part of the space, and has no problem approaching you and slapping the top of his parchment on your desk. It lands right on top of your books and your own roll of parchment. 

There’s a pause. “If the ink on my roll wasn’t dry, I will honestly not hesitant to stab your eye out,” You say right away. 

“Charming,” Jimin returns, sitting in the vacant chair next to you. “But I just wanted to show you something. We got our grades back for that Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. As you can see, here’s my plus two extra credit score at the top.” 

“What?” You react immediately, leaning over your desk to catch a glimpse of the score. “Damn, what the fuck. How’d you get two extra credit points?” 

Jimin is grinning. “What’d you get then?” 

You give him a side glare. “One point five?” 

“Wow.” Jimin places a hand on his heart. “Did I beat you on an assignment?” 

Your side glare has evolved into a full glare.. “As classy as that brag was, beating me on one assignment doesn’t reclaim your place as the smartest student at this school.” You brush some of the hair out of your face as you turn in your seat. “But I guess there’s no harm in congratulating you for this one. Do you want a celebratory blow job?” 

Jimin’s heart stutters in his chest at the words. He does whiplash at your question. “I-I’m sorry, what?” 

You grin. “A little nervous there, Park Jimin?” 

“W-Well no, I just…” He trails off, trying to collect his bearings, trying to make sure that he hadn’t misheard you. “I-I think I wasn’t able to catch what you said…” 

“No, I think you heard me pretty clearly.” You’re right. He had heard you perfectly. After all, there’s no reason for him to have not heard you clearly. You’re both in the library for goodness sake—not just the library but a quiet section of the library. “I just figured you want some sort of congratulatory gesture on my part, since we have a little competition going on between the two of us. You scored better today, so I’ll blow you.” You pause for a moment. “Unless you don’t want me to blow you, and you asking questions like this is just you trying to deflect…” 

“No! I mean…” He sets his teeth when your grin widens. “Shut up, you’re so annoying.” 

“You’re not saying no,” You point out. 

“Of course I’m not. Get your stuff, we’re going.” He grabs your wrist as soon as you’ve packed up your school supplies, and he doesn’t let go. 

Your laughter echoes all the way down the hallway. 

.

It continues like this. In terms of your social relationship with Jimin, it turns into a rivalry boosted by sexual encounters. Depending on who scored better on tests, essays, or homework would get to lead the sex in the empty Head Boy classroom near the abandoned corners of the castle. The atmosphere between you two, while still plagued with banter, has turned into something more light-hearted and conversations have lower defenses. 

That’s what one gets after seeing the other person naked for weeks on end. 

The improvement in your relationship leads to more open conversations about the project, something that Professor McGonagall has noticed an improvement in. 

She says this after calling you and Jimin in for a meeting. It’s the beginning of November now, and the weather has cooled down and the sky reflects the bleeker tone in its dark shades of gray. You and Jimin have been in this strange relationship for about a month and a half now, and you didn’t think there would be any physical changes, until the professor opens her mouth. 

“I have to say, Ms. Y/N and Mr. Park, that I’ve noticed you two taking more enjoyment in each other’s company. It’s rather refreshing to look at, considering the way you guys used to always be at each other’s throats beforehand.” 

“Definitely agree, in more ways than one,” Jimin says, and you kick him under the table. 

The meeting with the professor is short. It’s more of a touching base encounter if anything, where you’re explaining the details of your presentation and continue going more into detail about what each of you will be covering. It ends soon after, with a parting ‘just keep going with what you’re doing’ before both of you are dismissed from the office. 

“That went well,” You report as you’re exiting the office together. It’s the middle of the afternoon on a considerably bright Thursday morning, so the castle is a little more alive today with activity. Most students are outside, taking advantage of the sunny weather to sit around in the courtyard or have a picnic or study session with friends on the grass. These are the options that are available to you and Jimin, considering your classes are done for the day and you have nothing else scheduled. Except to study and keep working on essays and study guides. 

“I’m glad it’s going well for her, at the very least,” Jimin grunts, rolling his shoulder as he tilts his neck back. “So what are your plans for the rest of the day?” 

You shrug. “Not sure.” You narrow your eyes at him. He never really asks you this question unless—“Do we have a meeting in Yoongi’s office?” 

‘Meeting in Yoongi’s office’ is the key phrase the pair of you coined to replace the much more lewd question: “Did you want to fuck?” Not only is the former much safer, but it keeps away those unsafe, unwanted, dangerous questions. All of which are things that neither of you want to answer. Neither of you would probably know the answer to them anyways. 

Normally, Jimin isn’t shameless about what he wants. When he’s straightforward, he’s eager and demanding and doesn’t like to beat around the bush. You’ve walked out of that classroom with bruises on your neck and a wobble in your knees to prove that. This time, however, feels different. He smirks. “Sweetheart, we had a meeting yesterday.” Translation: we fucked yesterday. 

You raise an eyebrow, not acknowledging the nickname. It’s normal in your conversations together, anyways. “When has that ever stopped you before?” 

“Touche.” He pauses, and runs a hand through his hair. “But we shouldn’t today. I have an essay for our History of Magic class that I haven’t started.” 

“Isn’t that due tomorrow?” 

“Yeah, I’m aware of that,” Jimin protests. “Listen, I’ve been helping JK with that waitress.” 

You bite your lip, vaguely aware of the aforementioned Jungkook and that waitress from the Three Broomsticks. Jimin refuses to spill any details to you. “How’s that going?” 

He adjusts the strap of his bag. “She showed up to his Quidditch practice yesterday, which was a plus.” 

“Not entirely a plus, it seems. You have a whole ass essay to work on. At this point, it seems like I’ll be in charge of the agenda for the upcoming meeting.” The quirk at the corner of your lips grows slightly. 

Jimin smirks, reaching over to tap your nose. “Don’t get cocky, sweetheart.” 

You try to ignore the gesture. He’s been getting more handsy with you, ever since he pinned you down on the desk and tied your hands at your back. You look away from him. “Well, regarding what my plans are,” You start. “I should get started on the upcoming Transfiguration report.” 

He nods. “Seems like we’re both in for rough afternoons.” He pauses. He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture he only does when he’s pondering something. “How about we suffer together?” 

You blink, having not expected that question from him. You did spend a lot of time together, provided all the hours that go into planning the big project and ‘attending Yoongi’s meetings’, as Jimin liked to say, but studying with each other was never on that list. “Do you mean, like, we study together?” 

“Hey, if it was such a stupid idea then you should have stopped me immediately,” Jimin retorts, turning red with embarrassment. 

“I didn’t say it was a stupid idea!” You say back, eyes wide. “I don’t mind us studying together.” 

“Well, that’s really great because I—!” Jimin cuts himself off, clearly not having processed your last sentence before opening his mouth. He looks at you, as it sinks in that you’ve accepted his offer to study together. “Alright, okay, cool. You wanna go to the library?” 

You laugh. “Sure, but I gotta ask something. How could I even stop you, since I didn’t know you were trying to ask me on a date?” 

He surprises you with a step forward, as he wraps an arm around you and pinches your waist. “I’m not asking you on a date. You’re annoying.” 

“And what of it?” You shoot back. You aren’t really expecting an answer, and Jimin doesn’t give you one. Yet, there’s no awkward pause because of it. It’s still just you and Jimin, and it stays that way as you both walk to the library and maintain a casual conversation about your assignments and outside activities. 

. 

It’s the middle of December when you scribble on the final flashcard and practically slam your quill onto the table. Jimin jumps slightly, but his startled expression eases into a slight smile when you hunch over and press your head into the desk. “Finished?” 

“Finished,” You repeat, lifting your head back up and looking at the array of notes and organized flashcards that are scattered across the table. Each flashcard is covered from top to bottom in your handwriting, all meant to help guide your speech for the project you have spent months agonizing over. No stone is left unturned, every single aspect of your experience is covered upon, per the request of Professor McGonagall. 

Immediately, you move to collect your flashcards and ensure that they are in the proper order. The little numbers you have written in the top of the parchment help with that. 

There’s another silence that overtakes the air, but it’s a comfortable one. It’s filled with the scratches of Jimin’s quill against his own parchment, it’s filled with the crumbling sound of papers stacking atop one another as you organize your flashcards. Once they’re all together, you look at the top piece of parchment. “Even with a late enrollment that brings you to Hogwarts in your last year, the welcoming environment makes the transition to different classes, social groups, and activities extremely easy and exciting…” You read quietly to yourself. 

After a few minutes, Jimin puts his own quill down. It’s much gentler than what you had done a few seconds ago, but it’s still more than enough to fix your attention on him. 

“Finished?” You ask him. 

He nods, before sighing and running a hand through his hair. The locks are slightly overgrown by now, which leaves his hair in strands that stick up all over the place. 

“Is it perfect?” You ask. 

Jimin tilts his head back. Your eyes linger on the column of his throat before returning back to your notes. “Honestly, we’ve gone through so much editing and revisions that I would just throw myself off the astronomy tower if it wasn’t perfect.” 

You laugh slightly. “That’s true…” 

“You look nervous,” Jimin notes, placing his elbow on the table and resting his head in the palm. “Worried about impressing daddy at the Ministry?” 

You close your eyes and let out a huff. “Why do you have to say it like that?” 

“Am I wrong?” 

You sigh. “I mean technically you’re not.” 

He feigns an over dramatic gasp that earns him the attention of some other students littered around the library. “So I was right this whole time! What the fuck!” 

“Jimin, keep your voice down,” You hiss. “Why don’t you ask that Namjoon friend of yours to publish a whole article about it while you’re at it?” 

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea—OW!” Jimin jumps when you suddenly reach over to pinch his thigh. He flashes a guilty look to the other students around him who shoot glares that could kill. After a moment of apologetic expressions and mouthing ‘sorry’ to anyone who would listen, he turns back to you. “You’re really going to get it tonight.” 

“During our meeting with Yoongi, you mean?” You ask back, giggling into your palm. 

He shakes his head and goes back to his flashcards. “You better watch yourself, sweetheart.” He pauses for a second, watching you out of the corner of his eye before he resumes his attention back on you. “So what does your dad do at the Ministry?” 

You look at him, thinking about how you’re going to answer for a second before you sigh. It’s probably because Jimin actually addressed your father as ‘your dad’ as opposed to ‘daddy’. “He works in the Department of Magical Education. That’s why he asked that I be a part of the presentation group. It helped that I was one of the top students at my old school.” 

Jimin is quiet for a moment. 

It’s long enough for you to kick him underneath the table. “Why ask me if you’re not going to ask anything?” 

He looks away. “It’s not that—I guess I wasn’t expecting you to actually tell me.” 

“Oh.” You stop, turning red. “W-Well,” You continue, staring holes into the table in front of you. “I-I guess we’re f-friends?” 

Jimin smirks. “Friends, huh?” 

“Don’t make me regret saying that!” 

“Hm.” Jimin hums. “So, your dad works in the Magical Education Department. Is that why you transferred to Hogwarts?” 

“You could say that…” 

He whines your name, scooting closer to you to wrap his arms around you. “Hey, you can give me a straight answer. I thought we were friends.” 

You make a noise of protest in the back of your throat, nevermind the way he’s so natural about his physical touches with you. “Fine, fine, yes, his new job is the reason why we transferred. Now let go of me, you’re going to get us kicked out of here!” 

“Let Madam Pince kick us out, we’re basically done with our project anyways.” But he does let go of you, the finality of your words probably that pusher. He does not, however, move away from you. He keeps an arm curled around the back of your chair. “You going home for Christmas break?” 

“Yeah,” You say, not saying anything about his still close proximity. “I do miss my parents—plus I’m sure my father would want to hear about how the presentation will go.”  

He nods. “Sounds like it’ll be a stressful Christmas.” 

You look at him. “What will you be up to, Park Jimin? Sneaking through the restricted section?�� 

He pouts. “I don’t need to sneak through it—I’m not a first-year. I can actually get a note from a professor. Dark Arts is cool to read about.” 

“If you say so,” You tease back. “Anything else?” 

“Well, there’s actually a party I’m throwing with my friends to celebrate making it up to this point. It’ll be in the Room of Requirements.” He ponders the next thought for a moment. “You should come.” 

You blink. “I’m going home for the holidays?” 

“No, you dork.” Jimin flicks your forehead. “The party will be before the holiday break starts—so everyone who wants to go can enjoy one fun thing before going back home.” 

You tilt your head. “That sounds exciting. But, well, I’m not a huge drinker. It should be fun for you, though.” 

He pouts again. “What if I wanted you to come? What do I have to do to convince you?” 

You give him a look. “Nothing, Park Jimin, I’m not a party person.” 

“You really are,” Jimin agrees, sliding away, looking disappointed in your answer. “I hope you’ll be able to sleep tonight knowing you just crushed all my dreams.” 

You roll your eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Park Jimin. What’s this about?” 

He shrugs. “I thought it’d be cool to see you do something fun for once in your life.” 

“Wow, he’s dramatic and rude,” You say, watching as he smiles a little at your usage of his pronoun despite the fact that he is right here in front of you. 

“Well, I guess I just have to accept your answer,” Jimin says after a moment, leaning back in his chair. “You’ll be missing out. I think Hoseok is pulling out all the stops. Alcoholic butterbeer galore.” 

“And I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it, no matter if I want to hear it or not,” You return, looking at your water. “Oh shit, I gotta go.” 

Jimin watches you collect your parchment and books, and the way you stuff them into your bag. “Where are you going?” 

You look at him, blinking. “Uh—Actually, I don’t think I should tell you.” 

He pouts, again. “What? Why not?” His curiosity only grows when you just give him a meek smile, and turn to rush out of the library. He calls your name. “Shit, hold on!” He doesn’t bother to organize anything, he just throws everything into his bag before he’s dashing to catch up to you. He also doesn’t bother to check around him before he’s throwing his arms out to encircle you around the waist. 

“Jimin!” You exclaim, both of you slowing to a time. “You’re needy today.” 

“Where are you going?” He tightens his hold. “I took some workout advice from Jungkook, I won’t hesitate.” 

You still at that. “What the fuck? Are you implying that you’ll crush me otherwise?” 

“Don’t change the subject!” 

You sigh, reaching into the pocket of your robe. “I may or may not have gotten an offer to get extra credit from Professor Flitwick for Charms.” 

He pauses. “Aren’t you and I having a bet about who can get the higher grade in that class?” 

“Uh, perhaps?” Suddenly, you bend your wrist slightly to poke your wand in his stomach. “Rictusempra.” 

A silver light beams from the end of your wand, and Jimin bursts out into laughter. He releases his hold on you immediately, falling to his knees as the giggling that escapes his lips fills the air and takes the energy out of his knees. “A—giggling—charm?” He manages in between breaths.

You whirl around to face him, twirling your wand. “Sorry Park. I saw an opportunity and I took it. Hopefully one of your friends can help you—preferably after I’ve made my way down this hallway.” You turn back towards your original direction and actually run away from him. 

Jung Hoseok is eventually the one to find Jimin on the floor, laughing, crowded by students who were intrigued to see the great Park Jimin at his wits end. Although those same students help him onto his feet, there’s still the mark of amusement in their eyes, and Jimin’s cheek heat nonetheless. 

The next time he sees you, he’ll get you back for this.

.

Jimin’s party is the night before the winter holiday begins. All the classes are done, all the essays and tests are submitted. The snow has become a permanent decoration to the school, all compact white blanketing the grass and exterior castle walls. The chill has settled more deeply in the air, bringing up the heavy scarfs and heavier coats. Breaths come out in puffs of air. And you are near the fireplace. 

Actually, more specifically, you are finishing up a last minute extra credit report for Astronomy. Not that your grades need the extra boost—Professor Sinistra had offered to provide you with the assignment that allowed you to indulge a little deeper in star placement and you weren’t going to waste away that chance. It’s due tomorrow morning, right before you take the train back home, so you are wasting away, scribbling all the research that you can recall onto the parchment. 

You’re finishing up your conclusion paragraph when you hear the door to the common room slide open, announcing the presence of a student. You don’t pay attention to this. Judging by the darkness clouding the sky, it’s getting late and you assume that the students who had gone to Jimin’s party should be heading back by now. When it gets too late, even though classes and henceforth school are paused, there are still certain punishments on the line. 

You don’t pay much attention to the student, until you notice that figure now standing right in front of your table near the fireplace. You look up. It’s Jung Jaehyun—Seeker for the Slytherin team. And, as you are aware of, an attendee to Jimin’s party. 

The thing is, however, that you and Jaehyun have interacted a grand total of exactly zero times. Neither of you ran in the same social circle—if the friend you’ve made that spends more time in the greenhouse than in class could be considered a social circle. 

Jaehyun looks just as uneasy as you do, with the way he’s shifting back and forth on his feet. “Y-You’re Y/N, right?” 

You straighten slightly. That is, obviously the first time Jaehyun has ever said your name. “Y-Yes. And you’re Jaehyun?” 

“Yeah…” Jaehyun starts, scratching the back of his neck. “Listen, I know this is totally out of line for me. But would it be too much if I asked you to come with me to the Room of Requirement?” 

“Uh…” You trail off. You hadn’t been expecting much upon seeing Jung Jaehyun standing right in front of you. But you really hadn’t been expecting this. “Is… there a reason why…?” 

“Well…” Jaehyun tries again, but trails off. He seems to be having trouble figuring out how to explain his story. “I think you know that Jimin and his friends were having a party down there, right?” 

You keep staring at Jaehyun. “Did something happen to Jimin?” 

“N-No, not really, it’s just, he drank a bit and he’s refusing to leave until he sees someone…” 

You press your lips together, having a vague idea of where this could be going but refusing to make assumptions. “Was I that someone?” 

“Well, okay, he didn’t mention a specific name. He just kept saying he wanted to see his girlfriend before he left…” 

“Okay, then why don’t you take his girlfriend down there?” 

Jaehyun looks pained for a second. “Jimin doesn’t have a girlfriend. His friends and I were trying to figure it out. You’re the only person he spends all this time with besides his core group. We figured asking you to come down would be a good place to start.” 

You swallow at the thought. You’ve never really set foot into Jimin’s world, it wasn’t really your scene. Even back at Ilvermorny, you were well known because of your grades, but you weren’t a popular student. But more than that, Park Jimin calling you his girlfriend? The thought seemed highly unlikely. You aren’t even sure that he feels that deeply for you—rather, your relationship was formed as a byproduct of forced participation. Without that presentation to the Ministry, you’re sure you would never have had a proper conversation with Jimin. 

Still, Jaehyun looks like he’s about to fling himself off the Astronomy tower. The more time goes by, the higher the chances of Jimin and the rest of his friends getting caught and getting saddled with detention. You figure: what’s the harm? 

“W-Well, uh, sure.” You straighten up, placing your items into your bag and taking a second to drop that bag off on your dorm bed. Jaehyun is still in the common room when you get down, and leads the way to the Room of Requirement. The walk there is another maze of walls and windows and firelit pathways. 

But instead of the Room of Requirement entrance you see, you notice a group of boys lingering outside the blank wall Jaehyun had told you let to the party. For a moment, you wonder if the group were attendees of the party. But the closer you get, and the more you start to hear voices that sound vaguely familiar saying names that sound even more so, you realize that this group is The group—Jimin’s group. 

“Taehyung!” Jaehyun calls as soon as the two of you are in hearing range. 

The boy, you assume is Taehyung, looks up towards the source of the noise. His eyes land on you and he visibly looks relieved. “Hey, you must be Y/N.” He nods towards you, and tilts his head towards the boy leaning heavily against him. “Hey Jimin.” He calls for the boy, but he looks unsure. Probably because he too isn’t sure if you’re who Jimin is describing as his girlfriend. “Uh, we brought your girlfriend?” 

It sounds more like a question than an actual statement. But Jimin doesn’t seem to notice. He lifts his head up from Taehyung’s shoulder and locks his gaze onto you. At once, his eyes turn into half moons with how brightly he is smiling at you. It’s like the sun has come out, with the light glimmering in his eyes and his cheeks rounding out. He calls out your name. “Baby, you showed up!” He cries, managing to untangle himself from Taehyung and latch immediately onto you. You might have stumbled, had Jaehyun not helped catch some of Jimin’s weight. “I thought you weren’t coming!” 

“Uh…” You trail off, mind going haywire. How could it not? Jimin, someone who is definitely not your boyfriend, is calling you his girlfriend, calling you baby, and hugging you like his life depends on it. The two of you just have sex! Under unestablished rules, sure, but that type of situation calls for an actual discussion beforehand. “Well, your friends said you wouldn’t leave the party unless I showed up. Why don’t we all head back to our Houses, before we all get detention?” 

Jimin nods, cheek against your cheek. “That sounds good. Look at my Y/N—so smart and wonderful.” 

“Y/N… didn’t he want to rip her neck off at the beginning of the year?” One of the boys whispers. You, of course, hear it, because Jimin’s friends lack indoor voices and it shows. “And now he’s admitting that she’s smart? What the fuck?” 

“Shut up, Hoseok.” 

Another boy turns to you, an appreciative smile on his lips. It’s Min Yoongi—Head Boy, and fellow Slytherin. “Just ignore Hoseok. And I’m sorry this is how we’re meeting you—from what Jimin says you’re super smart and it drives him crazy, so naturally I’m your biggest fan. I’m Yoongi.” 

You nod, trying for a smile. “I know. I would shake your hand, but…” 

“You’ve got a Jimin attached to you, I got it.” Yoongi waves his hand dismissively, whirling around to face his group. “Alright, you bitches. You better be in your Houses before I finish my first round of the castle otherwise you’re all getting detention.” There’s a momentary wave of protests before Yoongi interrupts it. “Or I don’t have to do a round and can just give you all detention right now…” 

“No, no, okay, we’re going.” It’s the boy who had called Hoseok out, telling him to shut up. He winks at you as he brushes past you, and flashes some finger guns at Jaehyun. 

“Fuck you too, JK,” Jaehyun returns, before leveling you with a gaze. “We should get going, huh?” 

“Yeah,” You manage, adjusting Jimin on your shoulder before you and Jaehyun practically drag Jimin down to the Slytherin common room.  As soon as you enter, you dump Jimin onto the couch, where he slumps backwards and remains unmoving. He laughs, eyes wide as they gaze up at you. 

He brings his arms up, bringing his fingers together in a grabby motion. “Y/N, come sit with me.” 

Jaehyun coughs, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll, uh, leave the two of you alone. Thanks for coming out with me, you really saved us.” 

You nod. “No problem, although it seemed like Yoongi could have handled it.” 

“Nah, that punk is a Head Boy through and through. Loves his friends to death, but wouldn’t hesitate to give detention. Anyways, I’m off to bed. It was nice to meet you.” 

You smile. “You too.” You watch Jaehyun and he disappears up the stairs, into the boys room. 

A tug on the hem of your skirt pulls you back. Jimin is still gazing up at you. “Come here!” He pouts, pulling a little too hard and sending you stumbling forward right onto him. Your legs end up on either side of him, effectively straddling his waist. His arms curl around your body. “Isn’t this better? This reminds me where we were just a few weeks ago—!” 

“Jimin,” You cut in, flushing at the thought of aforementioned few weeks ago. “What are you doing?” 

He blinks, the haziness from his drinking still glimmering in his eyes. “I’m just hugging you.” 

“No, Jimin.” Your hands find a place on his shoulders. “What are you doing? I’m not your girlfriend, so why would you say that down there in front of your friends?” 

“Wait, you’re not my girlfriend?” He’s still looking like a deer in the headlights. “But… I really like you, so I thought that something was going on…” He looks lost. 

A lot is pinging through your head—did Jimin just confess to you? “Jimin, you like me?” 

He nods. “I do, I really do.” His nod is lagging, it’s a little slow as he probably doesn’t want to make himself sick with movement too fast. “You’re so funny. And smart. And mean. But I like it. It’s not too mean, but mean enough to make me laugh.” 

You laugh a little. “You’re drunk, Jimin, you don’t know what you’re saying. You would never admit that I’m smart.” 

He sighs, tilting his head back until it rests on the back of the couch. “I would never say it out loud, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true. Fuck, my head hurts…” 

“You should get some sleep,” You say, instead of trying to push the topic further. “Do you need help getting into the boys dorm room?” 

“I don’t think I can make it up there,” He retorts softly. “I might have to crash down here.” He gazes up at you. “Will you stay down here with me?” 

You waver slightly, lots of questions running through your mind. If you slept down here with Jimin, surely someone would wake up and catch the two of you. Rumors would fly, questions would be asked.

Still, Jimin looks so cozy and vulnerable—an absolute rarity. And who knows, perhaps if things don’t go the way you want them to, you could use this moment against him. A reminder of when the great Park Jimin, a rock of stubbornness and arrogance, looked at you like you were the stars. 

So you sigh. “Sure, I’ll stay down here with you.” 

You don’t need to tell anyone that the smile flashing across his face makes your answer worth it. 

. 

You awake rather abruptly to the movement that happens next to you. Every muscle in your body is aching, so completely sore from the position you’ve rolled into. You open your eyes to a collarbone, a flash of the Slytherin green tie. You blink sleepily, disorientated, as your gaze slides up—! 

To see Jimin staring down at you. 

You jump slightly. “Shit, sorry.” 

“No worries.” Jimin groans, stretching. Or, trying to stretch. The couch you’re both on top of offers very little space for movement. It also explains your sore neck. “Ugh, fuck.” 

You sit up, rolling your neck and hearing the satisfying crack of bones. “How are you feeling?” 

“Gross,” He answers, sitting up as well. You’re sitting between his legs, the close proximity allowing you to see the tiredness in his eyes. That isn’t surprising. The sun has barely started to rise over the mountains. Given that the sky is a very vague shade of orange, you can only assume it’s five or six o’clock in the morning. 

You look up at him. “You hungover too?” 

He presses fingers to his temple. “A little headache, but it’s not too bad.” He lowers his hand, and looks over at you. “I wasn’t that drunk, Y/N, I do remember what happened last night. Maybe I was a little more transparent than normal, but…” 

You raise an eyebrow, egging him on. “But?” 

He stares at you for a moment longer, before he laughs a little, tilting his head backwards. “Aw, Y/N, don’t make me say it!” 

You can’t help but smile back. “No, I think I want you to say it. Otherwise I’ll think you’re pulling my leg.” 

He lifts his head towards you, pouting. “I would never pull your leg.” 

“Then say it,” You say leaning towards him. 

As soon as you’re close enough, Jimin’s hand comes up to trap your chin in between his thumb and index finger. The gesture is done to keep you close, to keep your eyes fixated on his, all so he can gauge your expression. He seems to be debating on how truthful he wants to be for this. “But… I wasn’t lying when I said that I liked you.” His eyes flicker between your own. “Even though you’re annoying all of the time.” 

You can’t help it. You start to laugh. “Takes one to know one, huh?” 

He brings you forward, shifting your center of gravity and bringing you forward towards him. You gasp as your hands come out to rest on the arms of the couch, on either side of Jimin. The gesture, however, brings you closer to him, so that your lips are hovering right over one another. “You’re being a brat again. Shut up.” 

You quirk an eyebrow, although he’s too close to see it properly. “Make me, Park Jimin.” 

He groans. “Don’t say that. I’m too gross to fuck you right now. And aren’t you going back home today after you submit that report to Professor Sinistra?” 

You smile a little, touched that he remembers your report. “I finished the report. And…” You trail off, pulling back enough to look at your watch. You were right: the current time reads 6:15AM. “There’s still five hours before the train leaves…” 

Jimin looks up at you. “I’ve got an idea. You have to be quiet though.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were into voyeurism, Park, but if that’s what you want…” You start to unbutton the polo of your shirt. 

Jimin’s eyes widen. “H-Hey, stop, I didn’t mean here! Button that back up!” 

You gaze over at him, two buttons on your blouse undone, more than enough to expose your collarbone. “What’s wrong?” 

“Why do I like you so much, you’re nothing but a brat,” Jimin grunts, mostly to himself as he reaches out to button back your shirt. “I meant somewhere else. You have to be quiet on the way to the place, you idiot. Come on.” 

He takes your head, lacing the fingers together, and making your heart jump in your throat as Jimin guides the pair of you out of the Slytherin common room and up the stairs. Making your way up to the fifth floor, he turns into a corridor with statues along the wall. He finally stops at one, the statue you recognize to be Boris the Bewildered. 

“Pine Fresh,” Jimin whispers to the statue, which moves to the side and allows Jimin to drag both you and himself into the hidden room. At the detection of movement, the candlelights along the walls light up which further heightens the place Jimin has just taken you into. 

It’s a large bathroom. The first thing you notice are the stained glass windows that surround the entirety of the room. Each window paints a different picture of mermaids across the surface, all of which are moving around the space much like every other piece of artwork in this castle. Some of them wave to the pair of you, but most of them continue to mind their own business of looking out the window and enjoying the view of the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. 

The moving pictures of mermaids, however, isn’t where your attention has fallen. Your eyes flicker all over the place, trying to take in more of this place Jimin has taken you to. 

Located on the left side of the room is a row of squeaky clean, polished and shiny toilets in stalls with a row of sinks, mirrors, and makeup counters on the other side. Located on the right side of the room is a lounging area, couches and cushions in the space and a row of bathrobes along the wall. 

The middle of the room houses the main attraction of the space—it’s a large bathtub, as big as a swimming pool with how wide and deeply the hole has been cut into the ground. The tapping for the bath surrounds the tub, each tap with a different colored jewel atop the metal piping. Along the edge of the tub are different baskets, each basket holding a different shaped container and bath product. 

“Shampoo, conditioner, soaps, bath oils, and bath salts,” Jimin explains, seeming to notice your lingering gaze upon the baskets. 

“Cool, uh…” You pause, trying to gather your thoughts properly enough to ask the biggest question of them all. “What is this place?” 

“Oh! Right.” He gestures to the entire room. “Welcome to the Prefects’ Bathroom.” 

You turn your gaze towards him, eyes wide. “The Prefects’ Bathroom? Shouldn’t we not be here then?” You’ve heard of this place before back at Ilvermorny. It’s considered a secret location that only Head Boys, Head Girls, Prefects, and Quidditich captains. Definitely not a place for you or Jimin to be in. 

He grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. “Relax, baby. I got the password from Yoongi. And it’s six in the morning on the first day of winter holiday. I doubt any of the people allowed in there wouldn’t think to come in right now.” 

You exhale, unable to ignore the quickening of your heart race. It was one thing to fool around in Yoongi’s private study. But being in this type of place that increased the chances of getting caught makes you nervous. 

Jimin can see that, because he steps closer to you and rests a hand on your waist. “Hey,” He says, not speaking again until you’re looking up at him. “It’s okay. I don’t want to suggest anything that’ll make you uncomfortable. I just thought of this place because it’s, for the most part, secluded and unused. We’re both tired and groggy, so I thought we could use the bath.” 

You take in a breath, before making your decision and wrapping your arms around his neck. “Alright, I’ll decide to trust you on this. So what’s your plan, Park Jimin? What are you gonna do to me?” 

He laughs at that, leaning forward to press his forehead against yours. “Well, sweetheart, we can go about this in two ways. Number one: we’ll go right on that couch and we’ll have a celebratory fuck on some actual cushions for once. Then, after that, we’ll take a bath. Or number two: we skip the fuck and take the bath instead.” 

You feign a gasp. “You would skip a fuck for me?” 

He mirrors your gasp. “Of course. That’s what you get for making me fall for you.” 

“Charming,” You say with a smile. “Lucky for us, I like you too. In fact, I like you so much, I can feel your boner against my leg so I’ll even have sex with you just for that.” 

His smile widens. He sighs dreamily, which makes you laugh. “Wow, are you the girl of my dreams or something?” 

“Hm, what happened to trying to skip my neck off?” 

“You really know how to keep up a mood,” Jimin mumbles. “I’m just gonna kiss you before you ruin this any further for us.” So he does, covering his lips with yours. 

There’s something different about this kiss. Normally, with your escapees or ‘meetings with Yoongi’, the kisses you share are frantic and haphazard and not really the main purpose of your interaction. The kisses are short-lived and bruising. But this kiss is different. It’s softer and slow-paced enough that it allows for exploration. It’s a kiss where your fingers gently brush over Jimin’s collarbone, where his own fingers settle at your jawline in order to trace over your cheeks and your neck. The sensation as light as it is makes your head spin. 

You aren’t even aware the pair of you are moving throughout the room until you feel Jimin hit something in front of you, and behind him. The back of his knees hit one of the cushions on the right side of the room, and he falls back. You fall on top of him, straddling him. It’s a similar position to where you were less than a day ago, but the intent is different. You hardly register any potential pain or jolts. Jimin just brings you back to kissing him, fingers moving down to curl around your waist instead. 

Only when it feels like it takes too much energy to kiss and breathe properly at the same time does Jimin pull away to dust kisses along your cheek, before moving down to kiss along your jawline, down your neck. Your tilt your head back, eyes closed as you let out a breathy sigh. Your hips start to move of its own accord, grinding down on the already stiff junction between his legs. 

Jimin groans at that, tightening his hold on your waist and guiding you to move deeper and faster. The bathroom fills with the noises escaping between your lips and the rustle of clothing. 

You and Jimin seem set on fixing that problem right away. Being in this position on a couch is so much more different than sex in a classroom on top of tables and chairs. It brings a comfort neither of you have experienced before. With that comfort comes this desire to just go all the way, to feel skin beneath fingertips. It happens too. First the sweater vests go, then the ties and the shirts. 

Jimin goes quiet at the sight of your chest, hands encircling your breast and thumb running over the nipple. His mouth replaces his hand, circling the nip with his tongue. The warmth of it brings chills that hit every nerve in your body. You arch your back, as Jimin’s hands at your waist keep you rooted to the spot. 

You start to claw at the waistband of his slacks, one thought pinging through your mind—and that was to see this through to the end. “J-Jimin,” You whine, already filling to wet and foggy. Jimin pays you no attention, merely switching to your other breast to wrap your nipple in his mouth. You whimper, grinding a little faster. Your fingers make their way up to his hair, curling the digits around his locks. You pull him away just enough for him to look up and make eye contact with you, but not enough. His mouth is still around your nipple. 

He hums, and the vibration sends through your body. 

He pulls away from you. “What is it?” 

You look down at him, pouting and whining. 

He cups your face with one of his hands. “You have to use your words, baby.”

You let out a sigh to calm your nerves. “N-Nothing,” You manage. “I just, I really want you right now. And I’m glad you like me too.” 

Jimin quirks the corner of his lips, before his fingers are curling under the waistband of your skirt. “C’mon, let’s get you out of this.” 

A few tugs and shift adjustments later, you’re both naked atop the cushions. Hands are running over skin, and Jimin’s hands remain at your sides to lift you up just enough until you’re hovering over his cock—long and hard. 

At this, Jimin brings your upper body closer until your ear is hovering near his lips. He kisses below, a spot that makes the shiver travel up your spine, before he goes back to hovering at your lobe. “You wanna show me how good you take dick?” 

You nod, brain still fuzzy as Jimin starts kissing down your neck again. It’s a very distracting sensation, the feeling of his pillowy lips against your skin. Your toes curl on the couch when his cock hovers right above your slit, right where you want him. 

With the guidance of Jimin’s hands, he starts to push you down, the stretching sensation forcing a sigh past your lips. Even though you and Jimin have had sex for awhile—even the most recent ‘meeting with Yoongi’ had occured a week ago—something about this feels different. There’s a deep rooted passion in his kisses, in the bites he’s littering across his neck. Almost as if Jimin had been holding back for that month and a half of casual sex, and now has let his full love and admiration of you loose. 

Every inch of Jimin inside of you is another euphoric wave that washes over you. You had thought today wouldn’t be too different from previous encounters, but the shaking of your knees tells you otherwise. “J-Jimin—!” You whine. “Fffuck…” 

“Look at you go,” He praises, eyes fixed on your spot of connection until you’re filled to the hilt. You feel so impossibly full. “Made just for me.” 

He waits for you. He waits until you stop clenching around him, until you relax. Only then does he hold onto your waist again and slowly start bouncing you on his cock. Your grip around his shoulders start to tighten as the friction makes your head spin. You let yourself be led, breathy moans turn to gasps. “Nn, fuck, feels so good…” 

He feels you start to randomly clench around him again. Having spent so many late evenings and early afternoons with you, he knows your signs perfectly. You’re close. 

He finishes you off with a thumb at your clit, circling at the bundle of nerves just right until your gasps turn into cries and you’re spazzing around his cock. The sensation is tight and warm, and Jimin chokes as his fingers dig into your skin to keep him grounded as he spills up into you. 

The blood-rushing physicality of what had just happened starts to settle in, leaving the two of you against the couch with mismatched breaths and his dick still inside of you. “Oh shit…” He whines. “You like me too.” 

You lift yourself off of him, raising an eyebrow. “Is that the only thing you got from that?” 

His hands on your hips keep you from moving around. His cock is softening around your walls, all helping his heart rate return to a comfortable pace. “Well, had I know us liking each other meant mind-blowing sex, yeah, I get to be a little salty I didn’t say anything earlier.” 

You laugh. “You’re unbelievable.” 

He smirks. “That’s right.” He readjusts, helping you up and off of his dick. His cum, white liquid, spills out of you. 

You cup yourself immediately. “Oh shit, that’s gonna get on this cushion.” 

“Oh shit.” Jimin cups your pussy too. Extra barrier, he would say. He turns towards the long bathtub. “How about a bath now?” He flashes you a grin when you nod. 

Keeping one arm around your waist to keep you steady, he leans down to dig through the pile of his clothes until he produces his wand. Turning towards the tub, he waves his wand. At once, the water from the tabs go off, each flow of water a different color. Some emit a string of bubbles, giving a formy texture to the bathwater currently in the tub. 

Given the size of the bathtub, one might have assumed it would take a long time to fill the space, so it’s a surprise to see water nearing the top after only a matter of minutes. Jimin waves his wand again to stop the water coming out of the tabs. 

Jimin removes his hand from you and allows you to straighten into a standing position. He stands too, guiding you to the edge of the bathtub where he lets you step into the water first. 

The water is the perfect temperature, warm and wonderful as it envelops your body. As you sink down, you sigh as you feel your muscles relaxing, where you don’t stop adjusting until your butt hits the appropriate step to sit on. Jimin follows in after you, not stopping until he’s sitting right behind you. 

“Ahhhhh, shit, this is perfect,” He says quietly, wrapping his arms around you. The only sound in the room is the rustle of water that splashes around softly in time to the movements both of you make. 

You move your head slightly to dip strands of your hair into the water. “Wow, no wonder Yoongi takes his job so seriously. I’d hate to lose out on this.” 

“Well, just stick with me, baby, and we’ll keep sneaking around for the rest of the school year.” 

You turn slightly to look at him. “Do you mean… sneaking around Head Boy equipment, or sneaking around the school?” There’s an implication in your question. Do you plan to keep me a secret?

However, Jimin quells that worry rather quickly. “Sweetheart, I’ve been chasing you around for a month and a half—emotionally and physically. Do you really think I’d be able to keep my feelings a secret in front of other people?” 

You smile, relaxing back into his arms. “I’m glad to hear that…” 

“Plus when I kick your ass in our classes, I think that it’s more satisfying to hear that I beat my girlfriend instead of that transfer student from Ilvermorny. Makes it more personal. Just how I like it.” 

“There it is.” 

He laughs, nudging himself further into you. It stays like this for a little bit, both of making conversation, but mostly just done in the privacy of this space you’ve carved for yourselves. You aren’t too sure of how much time has gone by until you’re hearing the statue behind the entrance to the bathroom move, followed immediately by a voice. It’s Min Yoongi. 

“Hey, who the fuck is in here—oh shit, Jimin?” A pause, both of you immediately spinning around to look towards the source of the noise. Yoongi notices you immediately, eyes widening as he turns around to face the wall. “Is that Y/N? What the fuck are you doing here? This is the Prefects’ Bathroom!” Another pause. “Wait, hold the fuck up—are you guys together?” 

You, however, don’t hear any of those questions. You’re too busy squealing in surprise, immediately dipping your body lower into the water to avoid having Yoongi’s eyes wander to places they don’t belong. You cover your breasts to further avoid that. 

Jimin shifts towards you to block your body. “What the fuck? What are you doing here? It’s Saturday morning!” 

“Hey!” Yoongi whirls around, red-faced, purposefully avoiding your gaze. “Don’t answer my question with a question! And I’m Head Boy, I’m allowed in here!” 

“You gave me the password!” 

“Yes, in the case of an emergency! Is snuggling up to your girlfriend really an emergency?” 

“Well, in that case no, but having a celebratory bath with my new girlfriend could be classified as an emergency?” 

“JIMIN.” Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, whirling around. “Holy fuck, if Flinch saw you in here… if he knows that you’re in here thanks to me…”  

“Uh…” You say from behind Jimin. Only your neck is visible above the water, so your voice and arm raising are extremely meek. “Yoongi? I’m sorry… we were both tired and gross, and Jimin had a hangover…” 

“No, uh, Y/N…” Yoongi cuts in, albeit more gently. “I don’t blame you.” He looks down at his watch. “I should probably let you know, however, that it’s almost eight o’clock and I’m aware that you have a report to submit to Professor Sinistra before the train leaves back for home?”  

“Oh shit!” You startle at that news. “I have to go do that now…” 

Yoongi glares at Jimin, then looks back at you, and sighs heavily. “Okay,” He starts slowly. “I’m just gonna stand outside and pretend that I didn’t see any of this. You guys better be out there in five minutes though. Both of you.” Without another look at either of you, Yoongi exits the room. 

Immediately, you and Jimin scramble to dry yourselves off. Both of you decide to just leave your hairs damp and wet, electing that just getting the basics of your attire on is more important. In the end, you’re both just in your appropriate bottoms, and messily put together blouses and tops. Yours isn’t even buttoned all the way, leaving your collarbone exposed and littered with Jimin’s marks from earlier. 

Jimin grabs your waist before both of you could make it out. “I’ll be able to see you before you get on the train, right?” 

You hum, arm around his neck. “Aw, will the baby miss me?” 

He glares, pushing you away slightly. “I’m just asking.” 

You laugh. “Most likely, I just need to submit the report. And pack—I didn’t really get to do that yesterday.” 

“Okay, okay.” Jimin lets you go. “I just wanted to make sure.” 

Flashing him one more smile, you lead both you and Jimin out of the room. True to Yoongi’s word, he’s waiting outside with his hands in his pockets and his eyes averted. They, however, fix themselves on you as soon as you emerge from behind the statue with Jimin. 

“I was this close to tipping you off to Mr. Flinch…” Yoongi trails off, studying the two of you. His eyes settle on the hickies at your throat. He freezes. “Wait, did you guys fuck in there?” 

“Uh…” Jimin looks at you, the realization settling in both of your gazes. “WELL, Y/N, the love of my life, it was great knowing you, how about you run off to Professor Sinistra while I try to outrun Yoongi’s rage.” 

Yoongi pales, looking like his soul has just departed from his body. “So that means…” 

You nod, corner of your lips smiling despite the potential outcome of the situation. “I’ll write to you once a week.” You look back at Yoongi’s increasingly stony expression. “I’m sorry Yoongi.” You say this before turning around and practically running down the hallway. 

Just before you turn to go down the stairs to collect your report, you make out one last sentence: “JIMIN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” 

[luckyspacerabbit]

would you ever share the background you created for kai leng? i'd be so interested in hearing it!

Hehe, yes! Thank you for waiting anon. I wanted to really think this through and make sure I was working with all the possible details of his character.

Okay, so my goal with fleshing out Kai was not to excuse him as a villain or to necessarily redeem him, but to humanize him and hopefully incur sympathy because I find his depiction as a mysterious lackey boogeyman to be 🙄 one dimensional and playing on racist tropes like the yellow peril ✨ (also bioware making him predominantly chinese + a lil russian. extrapolate what u will lol)

So here is my background for Kai :) Lots of childhood headcanoning and then some general talk about his character/why I chose certain elements as I did (such as dumping that dumb phantom blade for butterfly swords AEORHIG)

Childhood: According to the wiki, Kai is Earthborn, and from his general heritage we can assume that he grew up in Northern China (omg that's where my ancestors are from). The most populous city there is Beijing, which, if there was a spaceport or alliance recruitment anywhere, it would be there.

I headcanon that he was born to a bit of an unsteady family, where it was likely there was estrangement and unsafe conditions between the mother and father that may have created a sense of helplessness and neglect from a young age.

In my canon, Dan Hyun's mom, Hannah Shepard was the head of an agricultural research facility on Trident, and was an old friend of Kai's mom (From University, possibly).

As conditions worsened throughout Kai's childhood, his mom decided to take a chance and flee with Kai (age 10 at the time) to Hannah Shepard's science facility on Trident (Sentinel Agricultural Research Facility), where she and Kai would stay for about two years as his mom worked to save enough money for their own place .

Since Dan Hyun was already being homeschooled, it was easy enough for Kai to join up alongside her.

Dan Hyun (12 at the time) was extremely happy to have a friend since life on the facility could be really lonely-- but with all these changes Kai was having a difficult time adjusting, especially when Dan Hyun felt put off by his competitive attitude. After so long feeling neglected and growing in a tumultuous home environment, he craved external validation: homeschool provided an avenue for that. They developed their own academic-based competitive rivalry that counted towards friendship, but grew distant when he moved out with his mom about two years later.

When Dan Hyun was 18 (Kai at 16), she managed to apply to an Alliance Research Training program and receive admission-- something that was considered highly prestigious, despite her parents' reluctance. Kai had already begun to build resentment towards her due to the way her parents treated her (very preciously, sheltered, and without exposing her to the difficult parts of life) in contrast with what he lacked in family and world kindness, creating a drive to supersede her and compete with her once again, if only to have tangible proof that just because he began in a lower place didn't mean he couldn't surpass the vision of success.

After this event, they would strike up a still somewhat friendly rivalry again that continued until Kai enlisted in the Alliance at the age of 18 (his attempts to join directly at 16 failed in my canon lol, but he sure tried )

Alliance Service:

Kai took the combat-driven route while Dan Hyun was receiving training for her eventual research establishment in Akuze, meaning that in their line of work, they never crossed paths-- Though they maintained occasional communication and met up here and there whenever Kai was back from his tours.

This is where I believe his decline truly began.

Some habits, like his desire for tangible proof of success and seeking external validation, manifested more heavily in this time. Collecting badges off of dead soldiers (To remember his skill first hand) is a notable one, but I speculate he relied heavily on the word of his commanding officers to counter his self-esteem. Titles were incredibly important because they were proof. When he began to feel a loss of control which led to emotional outbursts and breakdowns, he would fall back on these bits of evidence that he had done something, anything.

The weight and violence of service combined to break away his mental strength and conditioned him to that of a soldier.

Famously, he was discharged in 2186 after his N7 designation. In a bar fight on shore leave, he murdered a Krogan (OKAY. Listen. The wiki says "first-degree murder" but first degree requires premeditation and bar fight implies heat of the moment. So IDK I think the details around this one are a little fishy. He was on leave but he was a soldier, so ? he probably just had a weapon on him? Okay, I'm not excusing him but premeditation is a bit different from manslaughter so just something I've pondered. It separates intentional killers from accidental murders).

At this point, he is formally incarcerated and set to serve a twenty-year sentence.

Cerberus Contact:

The year is 2177, and Kai has lost everything he's ever worked for. His prestige is gone, he is at the worst place he has ever been, his mom won't talk to him, and he has no one. He had even stopped hearing from Dan Hyun, the only person he could have considered a friend once.

Through a small TV in the prison, he is able to hear about the attack on Akuze, and its one survivor: Alliance Scientist Dan Hyun Shepard. In the attack her biotic abilities (Which she had kept secret for many years) were revealed, prompting immediate recruitment into the N7 Program and a contract for ten years of service. This drove Kai into rock bottom-- while he had nothing, Dan Hyun was steadily on track to uprooting the only thing he had ever felt like he had accomplished.

This is when Cerberus intervened, promising him a home, freedom, belonging, and success.

So of course Kai agreed. Why wouldn't he? He had nothing left in his miserable life and there would never again be a place for him.

Cerberus Intervention:

It's my belief that Kai wasn't necessarily "alienphobic" in the beginning. Instead, I think The Illusive Man saw a very clear opportunity to recruit and nurture a broken man into a pawn of service. TIM is incredibly smart-- everyone who works for Cerberus is. He knew what Kai needed was validation, the promise of success held directly on the tip of his tongue to drive him into tenacity and action.

Organizations like Cerberus, even in real life, prey on people at weak points, fulfill their needs and drape their ideology on top like icing on a cake. That's not to say that Kai is completely innocent-- he ate the sweets and readily threw the world to the side in order to attain more-- but it does give some perspective.

Kai in Cerberus:

In ME2 we know there is some apprehension on Kai's part about the role Shepard will play. He is already starting to feel slighted from failures with Rasa and takes even the possibility of rejection from TIM extremely hard and with violent emotional outburst. This evidences how much TIM has whittled him away over the decade of service. Kai feels as though he owes everything to TIM, that TIM saw something in him-- failing him is disproving that and accepting what Kai has feared all along: that he truly is a worthless and incapable person.

Kai and Shepard:

Kai is best known for his direct antagonism towards Shepard in the events of ME3, directly killing their allies and potential love interests in a way that is extremely personal. Yes, it is part of the job, but at the same time, it's clear Shepard gets under his skin. It's because in the end, after all that setup, Shepard is the one person who can take it all away from him.

They can replace him as TIM's prodigy/ They can bring an end to the organization that gave him everything (From his cybernetic enhancements (uh indoctrination cough couch) ) to his purpose in life. Kai threw it all in with them because he didn't see another choice.

My Canon: The End

So how do things end for Kai in my canon?

As you're aware, you can unalive him, violently. But Dan Hyun is very emotional and due to their shared childhood, I like to believe that there was still a grand feeling of kinship between them, a recognition of the other due to shared insecurities. I don't think there was ever a time Dan Hyun looked at Kai and saw anything other than her slighted friend (which is very romanticized, but SHE is very romanticized), it was just about getting Kai to see that too.

She locked him down the best she could, yelled, cried, and beat the shit out of him, but ultimately, preserved his life. After the crucible had been fired and Thane (alive ofc) attended to, she sought to right things between her and Kai: whatever form that takes. Who knows if he'll ever be able to live comfortably in society again-- but at least here, he has the chance.

Random Tidbits:

Some notes! At his best, I like that Kai is portrayed as Loyal, Hard Working, Methodical, Clever, Tenacious, and Factual. I think sometimes he can be written off unfairly as wimpy or scared, but in truth, he's very sure of his abilities and able to calculate his chances extremely well. He's smarter than fandom gives him credit for.

He has an interesting conflict between arrogance based on title and humbleness. He knows he wants to be the best but he never airs it-- like when Rasa suggests that he wants to be the leader for Humanity but he grows quiet and says to just focus on where things are at right now.

His time as a soldier absolutely affected him in ways I think sharpened him to the killer he became. It instilled values that remained with him in Cerberus, such as when he berates Bates for abandoning his squad and calls him a traitor. Kai doesn't betray-- he's quite literally ride or die.

Also? The ninja sword is super dumb because Kai is Chinese and the swords and Phantom's themselves are designed to appear Japanese in aesthetic. Ninjas= Japanese, but China did have their own sect of Assassins which I believe gave birth to Wu Ching as a type of Martial Arts? Or was drawn from it hmm

To keep to accuracy, Kai would have trained more towards their martial art techniques which focuses on close combat and quick movements, as well as the use of dual blades called butterfly swords (You'd likely recognize them as a set of rogue daggers).

That's all for that meta! Phew. If anyone actually read to the end, hey wassup, hope you enjoyed, and take most of this with a grain of salt since it's my headcanons and background work :) Thank you again for reading!

[angelguk]

→ bad behaviour 03 — a namjoon scenario

member: kim namjoon

word count: 7.5k

rating: 18+

genre: established relationship + smut + college!au 

warnings: we’re ovulating!!! / introduction to the breeding kink that will plague this couple forever / was meant 2 be a drabble?? im incapable we know that / eh big joon!!!! / manhandling kink / pet names used a lot / joon thinks he’s gf is dumb and wants to breed her idk man / size kink / crying when cumming / oc shy for once / discussion of twitter porn / creampie / oc is on birth control (obvs dont do this if u dont want a kid but this is a fanfic u know) / mentions of fisting porn / cock warming!! / if u see a typo no u dont

soundtracks: more than enough + morroco, alina baraz

prompt: “don’t you think there is always something unspoken between two people?” (Something Unspoken, Tennessee Williams).

It’s a rather serene Thursday afternoon, the late autumn breeze sweeping through the campus air. The stillness was ideal for studying, alluding to assignment deadlines creeping round the corner. Which was why your butt is firmly parked in the mess of Kim Namjoon's sheets.

The man in question is hunched in the corner of his dorm room, one large hand idly tugging at the chestnut mane on his head and his neck curved with attentiveness. You wish you possessed the determinate focus that he had, but your thoughts have a mind of their own, spiralling further into the darkest depths of your mind as they gingerly coax forth memories that spark a searing heat deep inside of you. You feel tight, drawn like the bow of an arrow, a stark contrast to the tranquillity spilling around you. The fact that Namjoon is practically naked isn’t helping your consciousness. Your gaze lingers on the rows of muscles lining his broad back, the tension running through them emphasising the dips and curves in his golden skin. His eyes, however, are glued to the myriad of words before him, the pen grasped in his grip swift as he scribbles down notes you know you’ll never be able to decipher. Not that you needed too, it was intriguing that such a put-together man like Namjoon had handwriting that essentially resembled chicken scratch. It was atrocious — but still elegant, very much embodying the person to whom the writing belonged to. You can’t recall what assignment he intended to complete today — something about the presentation of nihilism in Russian literature or whatever — but he’s devoted all his attention to it, meticulous in the numerous sticky notes and page markers that line the novel perched on his desk. It’s bent with the remembrance of his fingers, sepia-toned dogged-ear pages staring at the ceiling of his dorm room. Something blooms within you the longer you look at him, faint but strong like a tide shifting towards the shores. You don’t even register the slip of your laptop from your lap, legs sprawling open unconsciously. It spurs so quick you can’t even clamp down on it, the desire you have for the burly man bent over his world of words just a few steps away. But you know how much Namjoon values his academics. It’s with a muffled groan that you roll over, burrowing your face into his pillows in hopes that the wave will subside. It doesn't — crawling beneath your skin begging you to give in.

It’s the click of Namjoon’s pen that gets you, a sharp note that cuts through the burning of your body. Your thighs seal together, the slick that collects between your legs sticking to your core. With a sigh that you shift again, reaching out for your laptop. It’s best to look for a distraction, give him the space he needs to concentrate. At yet, your gaze can’t help but drift. He’s not covering an inch of skin, burly arms and thick thighs on display like he wants to tempt you. There are no words to describe how much you hate him —  nor how much you long to have him inside of you too.

You recall it with a jolt — the lave of his wide tongue against your folds, licking you apart with deft swift swipes that leave you weeping into his sheets more nights than you’d like to admit. You shuffle again, helpless to the yearnings of your mind. The heat on your inner thighs is a phantom. Namjoon likes to hold you down, press your hips into his sheets against the whims of your squirming. It’s the way he looks at you when you’re on the verge of tears, a wanton hunger in his eyes that unravels you fast. You can almost see it, thighs subconsciously nudging against each other. Then there’s the stretch of his fingers, larger than you own. He’s pushed you to the edge with just two of them before, persistent against that spot inside of you until he’s satisfied with the blissed slackness that descends upon your features. Then he’d add another, and another. There’s an undeclared thought between the two of you. You’ve noted the fisting porn in his Twitter bookmarks. Maybe one day you’ll have the guts to let him try.

For now, you swallow it down. Suffocate that longing until the embers burning within you smother to ashes. Your laptop returns to resting at an angle at your hip, gaze idling running through your readings. The words don’t sink in though, sitting on your skull before hastily floating away. There’s not much space for anything else but Namjoon at the moment, no matter how hard you try to reread the paragraphs or stare at your screen. You don’t even have to open the app on your phone to know what’s going on with your body. This is your first full ovulation with him. Usually, he’s preoccupied with assignments or TA responsibilities that cut your time together short, interrupting this part of your cycle and leaving you to your own devices. You hadn’t fully wormed your way into Namjoon’s life to demand all his attention just yet. This was still new, untested. Namjoon was independent and so sure of himself that telling your boyfriend that you needed him to stop focusing on his future to raw the crap out of you (multiple times) felt incredibly selfish.

You stare at the words in front of you until they swim, wishing you didn’t feel like this. Like you needed Namjoon to breathe. You can wait it out, maybe get what you’re dying for after post-studying cuddles and take-out. Even if it takes every ounce of your willpower to clasp your legs together and not jump the wonderfully large man that is your boyfriend.

Unbeknown to you, the same yearning that plagues you chips away at his resolve. A persistent want that wavers in the back of his mind, clamouring for attention, because even with his eyes stuck on the pages beneath him, he can sense your fidgeting.

Your attention span is incredibly short — Namjoon knows this. It ricochets off the walls even when you’re sitting still. It’s taken time, but Namjoon has gradually adjusted to it, muting the powerful waves of energy that radiate off of you when necessary. Today, however, is different. That energy he’s learnt to ignore eats him alive, sinking below his skin and leaving him buzzed as he scours his brain for any meaningful essay points. He keeps flipping through the pages of the novel, mind attempting and miserably failing to piece together a cohesive argument that correlates with the evidence he’s got highlighted in a loud neon yellow.

All because he can’t stop thinking about you.

He wants to blame it on the fact that he hasn’t seen you in a while (which is a blatant lie). Namjoon saw you two days ago. You were wearing that floral skirt that he loves, the fabric hiking up your thighs whenever you lined yourself against his side, snuggling deep into him like you never wanted to leave. He hates that skirt — hates it —  because now he can’t think of anything but it, thoughts blurring at the memory of your bare skin. Skin that he loves to mark, latch onto until violets and blues blossom. His mind is running before he can catch it, falling into a dangerous reminiscence of images that sit heavy in his gut. That stupid skirt flipped up your waist and his head between your thighs. Nothing feels as good as you do on his tongue. He loves the way you taste, the sounds that drift from your lips, the way your thighs twitch and tremor as you unravel underneath him. You get so loud when your high hits you. He knows his roommates have heard you before, but he truly doesn’t care. He loves hearing you scream his name, drives him to the brink of insanity if he’s being honest. Yet, it’s the way you look at him afterwards, a deliriousness swimming in your eyes that makes Namjoon want to keep you in his bed forever. Fuck you until you can’t walk without feeling him deep inside of you. Paint your skin so that everyone knows who you belong to.

His head hits the table with a muted thud, a low sighing escaping into the air. The tent in his loose shorts hurts. There’s a part of him that’s mortified — how could he get hard just from the thought of you when you're sitting right there on his bed? Perhaps it’s proof that you’ve invaded everything he is. His space, his heart, his mind.

“Namjoon?” You question, tone tentative in the silence that consumes him whole. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grunts. And then his brain settles, a tightness in his stomach that he can’t deny. “Actually, no I’m not.”

You don’t even have time to register it before he's moving towards you. It's as if he's flown from his desk, gliding through the space between you to firmly plant himself on top of you. Your laptop is knocked to the side, lost in the muss of his bed sheets as Namjoon moulds himself into you. You can't help the breathless giggle that hits the air. It's cut by the weight of Namjoon on you. He's heavy, all hard muscles and broad shoulders. Your fingertips slip against the fabric of his shirt — 100% pure cotton because he's fastidious like that — a lightness forming in your chest just from the feel of him in your hands. He sighs and you melt, losing yourself in him as he burrows his head into the hollow of your neck. The kiss he places there is soft, but it hits like a torrent of rain, drowning you harshly. Your body ignites like the flame you wanted to smother was never extinguished. You cling to him, the only thing keeping you afloat in the wave of adoration that crashes into you.

"What are you doing? What's wrong?" You murmur, vibrating when he kisses you again. Namjoon hums in response, his wide hands shifting to settle on the back of your thighs, gently spreading your legs apart to nestle himself there. Your back jolts when you feel it — feel him. Hard and needy against your core, a heat radiating where you meet. The flutter in your eyes is automatic, brain shutting down when he rolls his hips. He nips your neck then, a light press of his teeth into the delicate skin. You stop breathing when he smothers the pain with a kiss, thoughts dissolving into the air as you stare at the ceiling of his dorm, thinking you're never going to let this man go.

"Namjoo—" His mouth is on you before you can even finish your sentence, swallowing the words with a gentle press of his lips until yours fall apart. Kissing him might be one of your favourite activities ever. He feels good against your lips, ginger but sure in how he works you open, drawing sighs from your throat like he was born to do so. It’s easy to give in, your hips moving against his and your fingers dragging through his hair. It’s with a soft gasp that you part, the air around you electric. His brown eyes are dark but they gaze at you with an adoration that makes your heart swell. There are moments where you feel it on the tip of your tongue, a proclamation that yearns to spill out. But it’s too early to say anything like that yet. So you draw him closer instead, the content laugh that floats from his throat caught in your mouth. This kiss is different, more desperate, a hope that he understands what you mean heavy in your chest. You think he does because he kisses you back with an intent that leaves you breathless, a heady thing that has you arching into him before it peters out into tender little pecks. Your heart is so full it could explode.

And it does a second later when he drops a light kiss on your forehead, his wide hands settling on the backs of your thighs as he presses himself further into you. You know he feels the slick drenching your underwear by the hitch in his breath.

“Study break?” He offers, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes that ensnares you. A danger that glows like stars adorning a velvet sky.

“Namjoon,” you groan in response, legs wrapping around his waist. You can feel the length of him, hard and twitching against you. “You can’t just do that! It’s not fair.”

“Why? You don’t want me to fuck you?” There’s a nudge that coaxes another slip from your core. The whine that leaves your lips is instinctual.

“I do! It’s just that — um — just that I’m ovulating right now.”

The second the word leaves your mouth he freezes, broad body suspended over you and a distant look sweeping over his honey eyes. And then something clicks, his cock settling further into you, a twitch along his length that echoes in your nerves.

“Right now?” The words that leave his mouth are measured, his gaze locking on your own as if he’s weighing the consequences of his desires.

“Yes, right now. I don’t know if we—”

“Can I be honest with you? I haven’t been able to focus since you came over and the idea of you ovulating is doing nothing but making me extremely hard right now.”

“I — what? Really? Are you serious?”

He nods, unabashed as the blush rising beneath his golden skin. Your fingers dig further into his back, the want that sweeps through your system feral. It's so swift that you can’t control the rise of your hips nor the warmth that pools in your gut. Namjoon dissolves right back into you, the groan that slips from his mouth meeting the heat of your skin as he burrows himself back into the crook of your neck. You’re no longer thinking, your brain stuck on the feeling of his cock against you, direct with every drag of his hips.  He wants this as much as you do, a realisation that you’re still trying to comprehend. You have to ask again, terrified of the teetering edge you’re on.

“You sure? Like really?”

He scoffs, shifting back to give you a look. “You’ve seen my NSFW twitter, baby. You know what’s there.”

“Yeah, a lot more fisting porn than I ever expected.” There’s a beat of silence, Namjoon’s gaze shifting into something you can’t decipher. “Not that I’m against fisting,” you quickly amend, “It was just surprising.”

“Fair enough, but that wasn’t the only thing there.”

You know what he's referring to but seeing other people commit the act and then doing it yourself were too completely different things. There are still some things you’re too ashamed to say out loud and that particular kink of one of them. While your ovulation had a rather stronghold over you, so did your inner mortification.

Namjoon, on the other hand, cannot be bothered to beat around the bush. “You’ve seen what’s there right?" He repeats. "Creampies? Cum play? Breeding—”

“Don’t say that!”

He pauses, a playful grin tugging at his lips.”Is that what you want? Because you’re ovulating? What me to stuff—”

“Namjoon, stop it!”

He laughs then, a low sound dangerous that fills the room and swallows the embarrassment that eats away at you alive. “How can I? My pretty girl wants me to breed her, stuff her full of cum until it’s leaking from her cunt. You want that right? Want my cock so deep you feel it tomorrow? Am I right, baby? Hmm?”

You’re not looking at him, cheeks burning with every word parting his lips, but your cunt agrees wholeheartedly, leaking against your panties at the thought of Namjoon fucking you full. He doesn’t take your silence well though, a firm hand clasping around your jaw and tugging your focus right back into him. There's a glint in his eyes, a sharp dark wild thing.

“Baby.” He says it slowly, the word tumbling from his lips and right into the heat forming in your core. “Is that what you want?”

“Maybe,” you retort, feeling the twitch that tremors through his jaw deep inside of you. Namjoon scoffs, hand dropping from your chin. The absence of his touch has you scrambling after it, the movement occurring before you can bite back your desperation.

“Maybe? Then you don’t want it enough do you? I should leave you to study, don’t you think?”

“Namjoon.” Your fingers grip into his shirt before he can shift away, a pounding in your chest that terrifies you. “Maybe I do want it  — a lot — I just can't say it.”

“You can’t say it?” He cocks an eyebrow. “But you know how to use your words when you’re arguing with me.”

He’s infuriating and he’s doing it on purpose from the telltale gleam in his eyes. You don’t know what to despise more; Namjoon and his provocations or your inability to vocalise your desires. But that anger withers into wanting the second he settles back between your thighs, cock hard and heavy where you need him most. Yet, still, saying it out loud isn’t possible for you just yet. But you do want it, a great deal more than you’d ever admit.

“That’s different,” you say instead. “That’s when you’re being stupid.”

The eye-roll you're granted is brimming with exasperation. “Of course, you would say that.”

“And I’m correct.”

“Sure, you are,” Namjoon returns, nuzzling into your chest. He’s saying it to complacent you and it ticks you off

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You ask, a warning in your voice.

Namjoon sighs, perfect face burrowed between your boobs. “I’m not arguing with you right now. You look cute when you get mad and I’m hard enough as it. Besides, that’s not the point.”

That should not have you buzzing, the word cute sticking out from the rest of his horrid statement like a neon light in the dark. But you let it rest, preoccupied with the fact that:

a. Namjoon is horny

b. So are you

“So,” you say. “What was the point?”

“The point is that you’re too shy to say you want me to stuff you—”

Point B no longer exists. You are no longer horny even when he’s looking at you like that with that stupid lopsided grin of his.

“I get it,” you retort, “I get the point. And I’m not saying that. Not today, not ever.”

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” There’s a challenge there, and like an idiot you fall for it, raising an indignant eyebrow in response.

“Yes, I will not—”

He’s got the band of your sweatpants down in a second, wiggling the fabric down your hips and past your butt faster than you can blink. You don’t object, a muffled giggle drifting from your throat when he finally gets them off, tossing the pants somewhere in the corner of his room, something to be searched for later, not now. That giggle shifts to a moan the second his face dives between your thighs, the deep breath he takes in kindling a flame in your gut. There’s the faint press of his tongue through the cotton of your underwear, the low groan he lets out when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties setting something off within you.

“Oh — oh — N-Namjoon!”

“Yes, baby?” Another lick, tongue quick and firm against your drenched core.

“Don’t play with me. I can’t handle that right now.”

“I’m not playing,” he remarks. “Just giving you a reason to say you want me to stuff you full of my cum. I know you want to say it anyway.”

You huff. “You think I’ll give in that easi — hgnh.” He’s tearing your underwear off, tongue landing back onto your wet folds before you can register the fact that the fabric is gone. A few firm wet laves of that muscle against your cunt and you can see your resolve crumbling. He knows exactly where to lick and drag his tongue, nose buried into the apex of your cunt as if he wants to breathe you in. You can’t help the buck of your hips, a tremor running down your thighs when his tongue slips into your hole, pressing in with purpose and leaving you breathless in his sheets. But then he’s drawing away and you glance down to find him staring at your cunt in wonder, his rouge mouth glistening with your slick.

“How can I not,” Namjoon says, offering a kitten lick that spikes a shock in your spine, “Play with you when you’re so fun to play with, angel.” The smile on his lips is dangerous.

Your hand settles on his head and Namjoon curls into it. But instead of dragging your fingernails against his skull and pulling him closer like you know he loves, you shove him away, swiftly squeezing your thighs shut. If you’re going to play this game, you’re doing it on your terms.

“You’re not being fair,” you say. Namjoon blinks at you like you’re insane, obviously thinking with the dick in his pants rather than his head. “Go back to your Isaac Turganife or whatever.”

“It’s Ivan Turgenev, baby,” he replies, sighing slow. “And I don’t want to go? Do you really want me to?” He plants a tender kiss on your bare thigh and you burst with want, slick leaking out even though you didn’t intend it to.

“Not fair,” you say again. But you don’t want him to leave you like this, at the mercy of your hormones and the sudden remembrance of Namjoon’s thick cock stretching you open. “But no, I don’t want you to go. Just don’t play with me please.”

“Okay, that’s fine. But if we’re being honest here all I can think about is seeing my cum leak out of you. I just want you to want that as much as I do.” He says it in a rush like he’s afraid he won’t have the nerve to admit it if he doesn’t do it right now.

But I do, you think, walls fluttering just from the flash of that image in your mind. I do, Namjoon. And yet, you can’t say it.

“I’m ovulating, Namjoon,” you retort instead.

“And you’re also on birth control,” he rebuttals. “PEMDAS or whatever. It cancels out the baby option, right?”

“You are so dumb it hurts, Kim Namjoon,” you murmur, fighting the urge to kiss your stupid boyfriend. It’s a very odd conversation to be having when your cunt is on display and his dick is hard in his pants but you’re having it anyway.

“We’ve fucked raw before though?” He continues, still not piecing it together. “And so far, no baby. So no problem right?”

“When I’m not ovulating. Less risk, at least that’s what I like to believe.”

“Well I suggest you start believing that right now because I would very much like to see you stu—”

“Stop saying that you’re making me want to turn celibate!”

“Oh?” Namjoon remarks. “And yet you’re leaking all over my sheets every time I mention it.”

“I will cut you off from sex for a week if you say something like that again,” you retort.

Namjoon grins like he knows this is affecting you on a deeper level than your cunt being wet. “Fair enough, but I have to ask. Do you want that?”

“Want what?” Feigning ignorance is the safest bet until that shift in his eyes appears.

“Want my cum?” he says it so easily, unaffected while your face rushes with heat.“Inside of you, leaking out of you… All of it?”

And maybe you stop breathing at the thought of feeling full of everything Namjoon had to offer you, your walls clenching tight.

“Maybe. Maybe I do, I don’t know.” You do know and Namjoon knows that you do too. It’s with a defeated murmur that you admit it, voice soft in his room. “Okay, fine. I do. I want that.”

“You do?” There’s an edge in his voice. “You want me to bre—”

“Stop it before I change my mind.”

He laughs, a light warm thing that digs into your chest. “Okay, okay! Sorry, babe. Do you want me to prep you? My mouth? My fingers? You can decide.”

It’s settled so quick in your brain you realise it was never up for debate. “Neither. Just you. I just want you.”

He halts, honey eyes locked on yours for a moment, before springing to his feet and tugging his shirt over his head with speed. “We can do that,” he mumbles, his knees bumping against the foot of his bed. His pants come off next, plummeting to the ground where he kicks them off a moment later. It’s only then that you see the consequence of actions, straining painfully against his boxer briefs. He shifts to tug those off too but you cut the movement before it happens, shuffling forward until your hand is cupped around his length. Namjoon doesn’t protest, rolling into the tiny palm of your hand. You love the way he feels underneath your palm, thick and hard and heavy, a weight you long to feel inside of you. He sighs low when you grip him, watching your fingers wrap around the outline of his dick through the fabric. It’s only then that you realise, your gaze slipping down his body, subtly noting the sharp intake of breath when your lips mimic what he did to your underwear before he ripped it off, that Namjoon has been holding himself back.

He wants this, badly. It’s evident from the tightness in his voice when he speaks a moment later.

“Angel,” It’s said low, a warning. “I thought we said we wouldn’t play with each other.”

He’s right. With a small pout, you lean away and Namjoon wastes no time moving into your space, strong arms swapping your arm just to land you back at the head of his bed. You suddenly remember your laptop, lost in the mess of his sheets. Namjoon is kind enough to relocate it before climbing right back into your space, cock digging into your stomach when he kisses you again. It doesn’t take long before your top is gone, joining Namjoon’s pants on the floor, and then you’re digging the band of his underwear down, your lips still slotted together and a wetness rapidly forming between your thighs at the feel of his bare cock against you.

But he’s impatient, shuffling you around the second his length is freed. Your back is hard against his mattress, fingers grasping at the sheets when Namjoon knocks your knees apart. There’s a moment of bated breath, his large hands lingering against the bare skin of your exposed thigh, brown eyes locked on your wet folds. His gaze is so intense you instinctively want to clamp your legs shut, shy away from how seen you feel under his eyes. Yes, technically you were naked in his bed but there’s something else that he draws out just from looking at you. Something that makes you nervous because you like it so much.

“Don’t hide from me.” It’s whispered in the heat of the air, Namjoon picking up on how your legs drift together. He’s got them pressed apart a second later, grip firm but gentle, and your stomach does a swoop so dangerous you’re left violently reeling, the ceiling above you spinning. “Don’t do that, angel. Too pretty to hide from me. I want to see all of you.”

You can only hum in response, throat clogged with words that won’t form into coherent sounds. But Namjoon understands you regardless, kissing you senseless as his massive body descends on yours. His hands are on your ass a second later, gripping tight as his length nudges against your core. You just might cry, desperation bubbling in your chest. He draws away gently but you don’t want to let him leave, fingers taut on his broad back, gripping onto the very muscles that had you heady just earlier today. There’s a whine on your tongue that he swallows before you part once more. The laugh that slips from his lips at the sight of your pouted mouth is fond. He grants you another peck, soft and tender, before Namjoon rips himself away, determined this time.

His hips are lined against yours a moment later, cock stiff and dripping with precum. And yet your gaze doesn’t tear from the arms trapping you in his sheets. His biceps look huge, massive actually, all hard muscle and pure strength. It’s doing something to the base part of your brain because you can’t stop thinking about how large Namjoon is. Caving you in, your personal shelter from the world. Is it weird that you feel protected? Safe in the bed of this boy. You wouldn’t mind hiding here forever. A part of you wants to kiss him again, but Namjoon’s focused on other things, oblivious to the cave-woman looking for a mate thoughts running amok in your brain.

They dissipate the moment the head of his cock nudges at your entrance. Just a light tease, but he splits you open quick enough.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, angel. Didn’t need me to prep you at all.”

You mumble a noise that you’re not sure leaves your throat. He’s taking it slow on purpose, pushing in inch by inch so that you feel every part of him filling you up. It’s intoxicating, how the feeling of the slow drag of his cock overtakes everything in your brain. You’ll never get over how big Namjoon is, no matter how many times he fucks you. Each shift of his hips forward coaxing slick from your cunt. It pools at your entrance, dripping over his length until he’s glistening with your wetness.

“F-fuck,” He head drops down to the hollow of your neck the moment he’s sheathed inside, the velvet walls of your pussy gripping him hard. It’s too much for the both of you, bodies strung high on the want that threatened to consume you both. But he feels good like this, lodged in your cunt, stretching you wide and making a place for himself right between your legs. He gives you a moment to adjust and then the coiled spring in him snaps.

“So fucking tight around me, angel. Taking my cock so well.” There’s an edge in his voice, a warning for what’s to come.

You groan when he draws up, a tiny squeal erupting from your throat when he slams back down, hips angled to piston you into his sheets. The pounding is hard and unforgiving, a contradiction to the gentle look in his gaze. He holds you tight, giving you no room to shuffle under the bruise of his thrusts.

You can’t do anything but mumble his name, tongue numb in your mouth as he fucks you senseless.

“You’re dripping so much, baby. Making a mess on the sheets. You wanted my dick that bad, huh? Wanted me to fuck you full? Stuff this dirty cunt of yours?”

“J-Joon!” There’s an arch in your back, a dangerous tingle fluxing through your nerves when his mouth latches on your neck, your chests pressed against each other. Each drive into you pushes out a haggard breath, the heat into the room wrapping around your joint bodies, your arms slung over his shoulders, gripping him tight as he unravels you with his cock. Time stops, nothing punctuating the moment apart from the lewd sound of your meeting, your slick slipping from your cunt each time he hits deep. And he keeps at it, fucking you with a vigour that feels new and vicious.

You can feel him tensing beneath your fingertips, a soreness spreading through your muscles with every hard thrust of his hips into you. But you don’t care, delirious with the feeling of his cock deep within you, slamming right into that spot that has you dangling off the edge. The tight grip on your thighs adds to it, Namjoon pressing you down as he fucks you open like you’re nothing but a toy for his pleasure. He slams into you with abandon, his lips on your neck. Every drag is loud in the room, the slick pooling around your entrance orchestrating the sound of your meeting. You love how he feels over you, broad and big and pinning you down with an ease that shouldn't have you stomach twisting but it does. And he knows that, reading the whimpers that leave your throat well. You can feel it, the knot that tightens with every hard drive of him into you. So close, a blink of your eyes and you could be there. But then he slows, cock squelching against your entrance with a half-hearted thrust.

“Namjoon—" You’re burning, fingers scrambling to push his hips down, shove your hips up. Anything. Anything because if he gives you nothing you’ll implode.

“My baby is so quiet today. Hmm? Why are you so quiet? You don’t want my cum? Don’t want me to breed this tight little cunt of yours?” There’s a  in his tension colouring his deep voice, like he’s holding back from saying something. You want to ask but your needs are forefront in your mind clamouring for attention.

“Joon!” He nips your neck at that whine and you dissolve into his sheets, nothing but pleasure running through your limbs. “Namjoon please, please, please. I want it, Joon, need it.”

He cocks his head, a languid roll into your core that has you squirming underneath his hold. “Need what? Words baby, words.”

“Need your cum.” It’s shameful to say and the heat in your cheeks makes it obvious, Namjoon doesn’t care, shifting his hips so that his cock slowly slips out. Your legs clamp around him so quick that his chest smacks into yours, a muffled sigh escaping into the air.

“Need it where?” He says, hips rigid with how he holds himself back. It takes tenacity to make you work for it. You feel perfect around him, tight pussy stretched around his length and your slick dripping all over. So needy, so wet, velvet walls clinging to his cock leaving him weak even though he tries to hide it. You’re intoxicating, your heat, the feeling of your body moulded into his, the way you moan his name. He wants to hear you scream it though, hear your throat go hoarse with each cry until you're a blubbering mess in his bed. There are other things he wants too, but he needs to hear you say this first.

“Inside,” you reply, a perfect whimper drifting from your bruised lips. “Inside me, Namjoon, please.”

He gives in then and there, resolve shattering when his gaze drifts to the minuscule grind of your hips against his own, his cock sinking deep with every shift of your waist upward. It’s not long until he’s sheathed back inside of you, length twitching against the heat of your walls. He wants to take it slow, make you beg for him a little more, but there’s a weight in his gut that threatens to drop. And then his focus shifts to the span of your stomach and it slams into him so quick he nearly chokes. He may joke about it as a kink, the idea of fucking you until you were bearing his child, but the actual vision of your stomach swelling hadn’t occurred in his thoughts until right then. You would look ethereal, round with evidence of his love for you. He can’t help the palm that settles there as his hips slowly rut forward, forcing himself deeper, needing to see you stretch out for him.

“Joon,” you sigh, shuddering at the press of his balls against your ass.

He hums, thoughtful, dark eyes lingering on the sway of your chest. “Yes, baby?”

“Harder, please, harder.”

“Anything my baby wants, she gets. Isn’t that right, princess.” And then he’s falling out of you, quick when he slams back down. Your voice sounds foreign to your eyes, brain roughly registering the harsh feeling of his hands as he swiftly rearranges you, cock still buried deep, until your knees are folded over his broad shoulders. The quake in your thighs is violent. But you don’t protest, mind unable to shift from the hard pistons he delivers into your cunt, thrusts demanding your release. There’s the sway of the bed beneath you, soft sheets bundling underneath the weight of your joint bodies, a heaviness in the air you breathe. He fucks you with a purpose that wasn’t there before, as if he needs to see you stuffed with his cum, unravelling around his length, a mess beneath him.

And you give it to him, shuddering when his fingertips sneak to your clit, the flickers he lands there unfaltering. That combined with the steady drag of his cock has your vision blanking, contentment spilling through your nerves as your high hits. It’s quick; a hard fast thing and spreads right from your core and through your system. Namjoon fucks you through it, swallowing your incoherent mumbling with a deft press of his lips against yours. You don’t realise you’re crying until he swipes a thumb along your cheeks, dropping a kiss on the damp skin of your face.

“You’re so pretty,” he murmurs. You don’t miss how his hips speed up, muscles tense underneath your trembling fingertips. “So pretty. My pretty girl.”

“Cum in me,” you reply, breaking away to catch his gaze. Namjoon chokes, hips faltering. You don’t let him process it, still riding high on the look colouring his features. This is what he wanted from you, and you’re drunk enough on the feeling of him deep inside of you to say it. There’s still a tremor in your walls that grips him tight and you aid it by raising your hips upwards, the bend uncomfortable but worth the darkness that consumes the brown of his eyes. A part of you wants to say it again and you do, voice low in the room. “Joon, I need you. Need to feel full.”

“Fuck me.” It’s said under his breath but you don’t miss it, stomach twisting when his cock slams into you. It’s hard and mean. Namjoon takes everything you’re giving him, folding you into his mattress and driving his hips hard enough for the bed-frame to shift, a low thud against his bedroom wall. You let him have his way, groaning into his ear, the sheen of sweat that builds on both your bare bodies glimmering under the dwindling glow of the sunlight. There’s a faint tepid heat flickering in your core and it sparks up when Namjoon lands a hard kiss on the span of your neck, moaning low as he splits you open on his cock.

“So fucking tight.” There’s a hitch in your rugged breathing, your grip on his ruined sheets fierce. “So wet. All for me. All mine. Right, baby? This is mine, isn’t it?”

“Yours,” you whisper in return, lost in the feeling of him enclosing you in. “All yours.”

His lips are soft against your own, a delicate press of his mouth that doesn’t match how hard he’s fucking you. But you revel in it, rupturing into something bright and wild and full of love underneath the piston of his hips. It’s good now, the sensitivity you felt a moment ago ebbing into nothing but heat and want. You don’t miss how he twitches against your walls, thrusts growing erratic with every lewd slam of his length inside of you. And you want it, reminding Namjoon of that fact with wicked whispers in his ear. He caves fast, a few last hard rolls before he paints your walls in his release, the moan he lets out bleeding into your skin. You’re on edge now, the feeling of Namjoon’s cum coating your cunt when you’re at peak fertility doing something stupid to your brain. It shouldn’t turn you on — in fact you should be terrified. You weren’t ready to be a parent, yet the weight of him on you, the spurt of cum that slips from your cunt when he draws again, sends your spiralling. It’s swift, the swing of your legs back around his waist.

“No — don’t, don’t move. Not yet.”

Namjoon pauses, checks still warm and his skin a pretty golden rouge. You don’t enjoy the way he reads you.

“We can’t cuddle like this. Remember what we did last time? The cockwarming?” He suggests it easily. He gets what this is doing to you even when you don’t understand it at all. You nod because the idea of Namjoon not lodged inside you sounds abhorrent. He shifts the both of you quick enough, his softening dick back to half-mast the moment your protest emerged. It’s easier like this, with you sprawled on his broad chest. You don’t want to acknowledge it but you’re still somewhat wound up and the feeling of him holding you close, your cunt stuffed full of his cum, is doing unimaginable things to your brain. You pretend it isn’t, snuggling into the valley of his massive chest, feeling safe and secure. And then Namjoon opens his mouth.

“We’re going to have to talk about this. You know that right?”

“No, we don’t have to talk about it. Ever. Pretend this never happened.”

His laughs echoes in your heart. “Baby, I just came in you and you’re ovulating. That’s fairly risky, don’t you think?”

“I told you!” You whack his arm for good measure. “I told you it was dumb.”

“But I liked it,” Namjoon continues, staring intently at the ceiling. “A lot.” You flutter, cheeks hot at his admission, a bubbling in your chest that shouldn’t be there. “And judging from how you’re using my dick to keep my cum inside of you, I’m guessing you liked it too.”

“...Maybe.” You hate it but he’s right. You liked having him use you like that, the prospect of his cum doing more than leaving you euphoric with satisfaction lingering in the depths of your mind.

“Maybe?” He scoffs, wide hand gently pushing you off his chest despite the whine you release. “Get off then, I need to check if my dick is intact. I think I saw the fifth dimension when I came.”

“Shut up, please!” You cling to your boyfriend, viciously wiggling around until you feel him twitch inside of you. It’s too nice of a feeling to lose just yet. “Why are you ruining it?”

“Why can’t you admit what you’re into? Speaking of that subject, I don’t know what your kinks really are. So far there’s been a bit more exhibitionism than I expected from you but the breeding one… is different. Not bad. Just different,” he suddenly rambles.

“Because it’s embarrassing.” Your voice is small, landing on his naked chest in the silence of his room. His hand shifts from shoving you off to gingerly resting on you back, rough fingertips languidly tracing patterns on your skin. The motion is reassuring, yet you can still hear the eye roll in his voice when he speaks.

“You’ve seen the fisting porn on my NSFW twitter, what the hell do you mean embarrassing?”

“It just is!” You protest. “I’m not sure what I’m into.”

“I think you are, you’re just not comfortable admitting it to yourself. Don’t you watch porn? Or have any particular fantasies?” Namjoon’s persistent despite your deflection and while some part of you hates it, you know he’s right. He always is — well most of the time.

“I do,” you retort instead, refusing to give him an ounce of triumph. “You know that don’t be dumb.”

“Well then,” Namjoon returns, curiosity colouring his voice, “What’s your NSFW twitter? I’ve shown you mine, let me see yours.”

“I don’t have one…”

There’s a pause, the hand on your back drawing to a halt. You can hear the cogs in his head turning.

“You don’t? What do you use then?”

“...Yours,” you whisper. The breath that falls from his lips is horrified. “I like most of the stuff you like,” you quickly tack on. Somehow this is more shameful than admitting that you like being stuffed with Namjoon’s cum. The silence carries on and you're left stewing in your thoughts, looking for a way out of this awkward mess when Namjoon starts up again, a tentativeness in his tone that concerns you.

“Most of what I like,” he says. Another pause. “... Including the fisting porn?”

“Namjoon,” you snap, “Shut up.” You can’t believe you’re allowing this man to plug his dick in you after sex, can’t believe it at all. It’s a horrible realisation to come too especially when he breaks out into a loud laugh, his chest shuffling you around with every quick intake of air and the sound of his glee resounding in your heart.

“Sorry, angel,” he offers between muffled laughs. You hate him. You do even if you love him ten times more than you hate him. “We should make you one after this,” Namjoon says. “And then get food. Sounds good with you?”

“Food first,” you retort, mellow in the arms of your lover. “And then the Twitter porn.”

[caffernnn]

Final stroke spoilers: ⚠️‼️

I just saw a post on Twitter about the Haru and Rin scene and how they didn’t feel that it was that ooc of Haru. I thought I was the only one who felt that it was kind of justified on Haru’s end. Because both Rin and Ikuya put Haru and their friends through so much when they were lost and wanted to swim with Haru again. And I get that professional swimming is entirely different than what they’re used to, but it really sucks that as soon as the competition got a little hard they decided to just drop free and only swim their preferred styles. That’s got to be a slap in the face to Haru, because what was all of that other stuff about? Like Rin wanted for YEARS for Haru to swim on the world stage and after the first race is like “you’re on your own.” He honestly deserves it to be honest even if Haru would’ve never said anything to protect their friendship he was clearly thinking or thought these thoughts. For a show where Haru is the mc we rarely get to see how he feels about things. I wish we can see the movie soon, cause I really wanna see how that whole sequence takes place.

⚠️ Talking about Free! Final Stroke spoilers below the cut ⚠️

It’s wild to me (it probably shouldn’t be surprising; idk) how even going off of just spoilers, there is a clear divide in the reactions people are having to Haru’s actions in the movie, especially in reference to the sudden shift leading up to the fight with Rin. I can see why people are surprised by it on a base level because so much of his successes in DttF, paired with the camaraderie everyone seems to have for a majority of the movie, leads you to believe Haru has emotionally matured and stabilized since high school, which is true! He’s more open to change and examining his emotions, especially as he starts to grapple with a high-stakes long-term goal for what feels like the first time. With that said, all of this can be true at the same time Haru is going through a steady breakdown that can/will likely lead to burnout. So many people who’ve been put through rigorous academic programs or career training or anything else equally as intensive can attest to the frustration of feeling like every few steps forward (gaining experiential knowledge, making connections, learning more about your identity in reference to x goal, etc) are followed by a step back (exhaustion, plateaus, expectations you can’t meet, mistakes spilling out when you can’t keep repressing the negatives in the name of “productivity”). Haru was able to make it this far because he has grown and started to heal some of the cracks in his support group, but the sheer amount of pressure makes it easier for him to break, and old wounds that never fully healed have time to fester.

I probably sound like a broken record in these movie-related posts when talking about Haru getting obsessed with becoming stronger and not knowing what to do with that fairly new and overwhelming drive. I can’t be mad at Haru completely for his choices here (can’t wait to be called a Haru apologist when the movie comes out in more places jfjdjd) because he partially fell victim to circumstance. This is one of the first times Haru takes the expectations of him being a “hero” or “prodigy” into consideration, and now he’s trying to navigate the expectations of success that come with those titles while not being sure 1) what exactly they are beyond winning, and 2) not being sure if they’re actually attainable for him. Along with that, he’s putting faith in Ryuuji’s instruction and guidance because he needs someone with any sort of credibility or experience with the pro circuit to show him how to get to the top. Even though from an outside standpoint it’s easier to discredit and reject Ryuuji’s assertion that everyone at the top has to give something up to get there, there are a number of reasons Haru reconsiders the notion with everything he’s seeing. He’s seeing his newest rivals reach crazy success and strength through isolation, and Ryuuji is dangling a golden opportunity in front of his face by going to Haru in the moments where he’s most vulnerable and saying “yes, that strength you crave is possible for you, but only if you pay this specific price for it.” Nobody should bear the weight of “saving” Haru from his circumstances (especially not his friends on their own journeys… Ryuuji and other mentors watching this trainwreck can eat my shorts tho), but dealing with this ultimatum while his core support group is pushing forward through their own challenges and/or busy in another country, I can’t be too surprised when he starts to overextend himself and burst at the seams.

As far as the blow-up with Rin, I won’t say it’s fully justified, but it’s understandable. The way Haru has had to make peace with his hardships with Ikuya and Rin has largely been by atoning for his own involvement in those rifts and trying to turn over a new leaf without expecting much in return. He took the opportunities of swimming with both of them again to replace any apologies on their parts and largely made peace with it. As much as it’s going to hurt to watch, I’m interested to see this fight play out because it sounds like it addresses a problem we bring up a lot in meta analyses posts: there needs to be more explicit conversations and apologies between characters, or the closure feels flimsy and temporary at best. This fight isn’t about closure (it’s about a lot of things both involving and excluding Rin, but I ranted about that in the other spoiler post) but it’s acknowledgement after all of this time that there’s still a need for it. Having Rin back in his life as a rival and friend has held the caveat in the back of his mind that Rin will leave his side again if Haru’s friendship/rivalry stops serving all of his interests. Haru’s ultimate fear of being abandoned by people, of people using him without understanding him and then throwing him aside for someone/something else, is drastically coming back to the surface in all of his stress. Rin and Ikuya choosing to continue their pro careers with strokes that better suit their strengths isn’t abandonment, just like Makoto choosing a university in Tokyo wasn’t, but Haru is so lost in his own stress and despair that he can’t see these choices as anything but personal attacks in the moment. These choices don’t have to do with Haru and we’re never meant to hurt him (which he comes to realize by the end of each fight), but the unresolved issues mixed with his fears make him explode.

It’s not a black and white situation where only one side is in the right, and I hope whatever resolution comes in the second movie acknowledges that. Rin didn’t deserve Haru’s taunting and wrath in that moment, but I do want him to reflect on the whole mess and recognize that Haru’s in a desperate place not unlike the one he was in when he first went to Australia and seemingly cut everyone off. I want them both to consider that avoiding airing out those insecurities because it’d be uncomfortable or embarrassing ultimately led them back here, unsure how to talk about changes and concerns without first having one of them explode or hit rock bottom. They can be friends outside of swimming, I’d want them to be friends outside of swimming, but I think Haru isn’t blind to how much of their connection is reliant on intrigue in the water, and a part of him is scared that Rin won’t have a reason to stick around if they aren’t rivaling each other in the same stroke anymore.

All of this can make for a great chance of resolution in the second movie, if done well. There’s opportunity for Haru to realize that the trajectory of dreams can change, and just like Rin changing his stroke or Makoto changing his training emphasis, you can honor the parts of the dream that first inspired you while finding a path that honors the person you’ve become. There’s opportunity for Haru to break from the dangerous echo chamber he’s currently in telling him he has to do this all alone in a few ways. Maybe he’ll have a moment where he’s like “I gave up everything and still couldn’t get stronger, so now I need to get back to finding what gives me strength personally.” Maybe he’ll have a moment where he’s like “if my only option is a path paved in loneliness, I need to find a new dream.” There are so many directions the story can go in at this point, and I’m excited to see what happens next (and maybe write about the paths they don’t choose lol).

[bumblingseabiscuit]

Personal: PSA

Beneath the spoiler I’m going to write a bit of an update on life. It’s not all rainbows! So uh—  yeah Idk.

Hey y’all, thanks for taking the time to read this. I just wanted to let those who are invested in my status that I’m still pretty stressed the fuck out. There is simply a lot going on for me right now and I’ve been trying to process but as I get one thing more managed another roars its ugly head.

Bumble has had a string of health problems, more than he’s ever had his whole life. After he got some of his teeth removed in October we’ve since found out that he has Chronic Kidney Disease Stage 2. He also has been having constipation and dietary issues. He lost two kilos in about a month which is really fast. We’re trying to get his weight to stabilize but he’s also not making that easy by developing a picky appetite.

I live with my fiancée now which has been an adjustment. Things are mostly wonderful but we’re all still grieving. This home is very different without her mother— who passed away about four months ago. It’s also the first time I’ve lived without my parents and I’m further from friends who I used to at least be able to think about visiting when my chronic illnesses allowed. I’m further from the ocean, out of the forest, and while there are certainly benefits to living in a city I also feel more isolated than I ever have.

I start school in the New Year which is, quite frankly, terrifying. I’m having a hard time with it. There is nothing in this world that makes me feel more useless and like a waste of air than school. I’ve never been built for traditional academics. Unfortunately, however, basically every job on the market here requires an Adult Graduate that I simply don’t have (which happens to be a big part of my schooling trauma in general).

Not having a job is basically next level stress for me. In all honesty, at this point, I’m out of funds. I moved here with less than I had planned for after quitting my job (which had a toxic work environment and I’m tired of dancing around it). Bringing in nothing just makes me feel like a parasite. I have to try and navigate B.C income assistance which is another process that just makes me want to break down.

All my expenses are catching up with me, too. I try to map out things I need to succeed but fall short when I see the cost. I choke up every time. I’ve always grown up in a household very cautious about money but being this poor, again, is opening old scars. No matter how much I try to logic out that I’m not a parasite, and my value as a person is not what capitalism expects of me, I can’t shake the ‘on the verge of a breakdown’ state that I’ve basically existed in since I moved.

Mental health is obviously not in a great place right now. And, I know that some of you rely on me to be a support structure, but to be perfectly honest? I just can’t be right now. My willpower to play games, answer your DMs, chat through your stressors, Be A Friend™ is so limited and honestly any energy I have for it is more-or-less being placed into family. This is even more relevant because I recently lost someone that I loved. No matter the fact it's been a long time coming, and no matter how much I try to pretend like it doesn't hurt, it does. I have to prioritize my energy and boundaries right now; especially more-so because I also lost my therapist in this move and I’m on my own for managing the skeletons in my closet right now. I want to talk a little about some inner dialogue, too.

Some of you know that this year I announced my enby status with the preference to fae/faer. Since then, I’ve faced some pretty ignorant but expected comments. I had a former acquaintance completely disregard them, I’ve had someone I’ve never known accuse me of -kin culture, and amidst all the people who have chosen to judge me for neo-pronoun usage not a single one has asked me why I chose them to begin with.

I’m pretty actively fueled by spite and, retaliation without a single one of my retaliators asking me why, has driven me to do some deeper dives into who is beneath everyone else's expectations of me. I've been struggling with building an identity beyond the one placed upon me because it's easy for everyone that isn't me. I smile at she/her, I answer to 'Mint', and I tell myself that I can't build up a new image without some sort of financial quantifier. I'm not X because I don't have ABC. I know these aren't really new struggles for people fresh out of the gender reveal but going through them myself — with everything else going on — has branched into the occasional, 'Too hard to handle,' territory.

So, the one thing I'm going to commit to is: New Year, New Me. Literally. I'm going to work honoring who I am—  even if I can't meet all the standards I've created for myself. I'm going to be overhauling a bunch of shit in January and better embracing who I want to be instead of who I feel trapped being. It's time to take all these lessons I've learned and fuck up in new ways, lmfao. I know this will be an adjustment for some of you but I hope you’ll understand that it’s time for me to grow beyond these confinements.

Anyway, the TLDR of this is really that I’m fucking tired, yes I’m intentionally ignoring you but it’s not you it’s me, and I’ve got enough to worry about right now. That’s the blunt of it. 

[emersonfreepress]

okay so is there content that you had planned for the ROs and story in general but then scrapped cause there wasn’t a good place in the story to stick it in? and if so, can you share what it was? 👀 👀 👀

yes, definitely. *rubs hands together* oh man, you done asked THE question today xD I can't wait to get into this 😁

Academics. I almost decided to have classes and grades be a minor part of gameplay, but the more time I spent designing it the more I realized I wanted nothing to do with it 😂 I haven’t really enjoyed academic gameplay in other interactive fiction because I 1) hate having to choose between studying and interacting with awesome characters, 2) have terrible short term memory, and 3) hate school in general!! So instead I just opted to have the MC be really good at school, point blank period so I could focus on social drama and relationships instead! 😆

Physical skills. I spent literal months crafting the catering scene around setting up stats for stamina/endurance, dexterity, and strength instead of just magnetism, confidence, and persuasion. They had their own backstories with the MC’s parents being overly invested sports parents instead and I think the background choices were like... martial arts, gymnastics, and track? But yeah, I ended up scrapping it all because I was spending hours on research about those individual sports so I could integrate them into the MC’s narrative organically but like... when I tried to think of what use they would be in the actual story, I came up blank. Best decision yet, esp since it means a lot less coding!

Skin tone customization. For one, I noticed that a lot of my favorite IFs don’t offer that customization and it hasn’t impacted my experience at all. For two, I originally realized I might as well not implement it since I am striving real hard not to introduce any customization that won’t actually be mentioned in interesting or meaningful ways in-story. I don’t think it’s really all that common for real life friends (esp in high school?) to comment or compliment each other’s skin and like... when it comes from someone who doesn’t share a similar complexion or ethnic background, that type of commentary gets... d i c e y. So then I wanted to be sensitive to that but what’s the pay-off? An RO mentioning how they love your skin tone once? Awkward sentences with the MC referring to their own skin color? Idk, just wasn’t vibing with it. I’m open to revisiting it in beta or something but for now it’s scrapped.

Singing, Rapping, and Gaming as Hobbies/Talents. I feel bad about scrapping these, honestly 😂 They’re great and I really wanted to incorporate them but it just came down to already having a lot of stuff to code. Plus, I know I can write the Hobbies/Talents I stuck with far better. And for Book 2 purposes, as well!

Leo. as @sourandflightypeaches ​​ asked me about a long while ago, I had to scrap an entire RO 😢 His name is Leo, he was the nephew of wealthy west African diplomats residing in Emerson, and I love him dearly! His backstory was largely based on my mother’s childhood and the circumstances she lived through after immigrating to America. and... ok, i’m about to go on one hell of a tangent so buckle up and bear with me if you can 😅

my intention with this story, aside from writing things that I personally enjoy (graphic violence, spooky woods, social drama, romance, conspiracies 😚), is to explore greed, wealth, and how the ways people and families interact with those two things influence young people and who they grow up to be. here i go sounding pretentious af 😝 and here’s where I apply a cut for those who want to preserve a little mystery to the main characters!

With Gabe, we’ve got someone who grew up with very little stability or financial security but who has found unscrupulous methods to gain status and money, with both noble and selfish motivations.

Kile has some of that childhood experience in common with Gabe, having been in the foster care system since infancy, but they lucked out when they were adopted into massive wealth by a caring, loving couple—a couple that uses their wealth and privilege to be far more lenient and protective of Kile than is actually reasonable or responsible.

Jack comes from a prestigious wealthy family on his dad’s side who he loves dearly but there’s no getting around the fact that they love him back as much as they despise his working class mom.

Jessie is a spoiled sweet heiress (being the baby of her family and the only girl) and while she lives blissfully ignorant of the harmful source and impact of her father's income and career, she bears the weight of the expectation to fulfill very traditional gender roles, including her behavior and appearance, but also extending to her career and life plans.

Rain's wealth led to them growing up sheltered and isolated but also extremely accommodated, giving them maximum freedom and opportunity to discover and develop their personal talents and interests. However, they have almost no positive relationship with their parents who have essentially decided to give up on a kid that couldn't be exactly the accessory they tried to mold them to be—both in terms of their identity and personality.

Rupan/Rohan, at their very core, rejects everything about conformity, self-importance, and excessive luxury—which means they have never, ever truly fit in with their peers. Going full non-conformist, however, has resulted in them becoming alienated from much of their family, as well, despite them all loving each other very much. Their history with false friends and betrayals has led them to over-indulge in their vices and reckless behavior to compensate for that isolation. Sometimes, they just get in over their head and many times, they know better. Every time, it's just that the feeling of finally belonging is utterly intoxicating.

Vivian/Vincent has two extremely successful parents who didn't inherit but instead built up their wealth and they aspire to be just like them, to a degree that is well and truly unhealthy. Their mother specifically is an over-achiever and applies mountainous pressure for them to follow in her footsteps, especially academically. Vi is completely capable of achieving what their mom expects of them, but they were already an extremely sensitive perfectionist so this has made them intensely critical of themself. This is a large part of why they are such a rigid, no-nonsense person and that in turn has made them one of the most disliked people among their peers—which is a huge personal failure to them since their father is a very well-liked and socially successful person in town.

And the Emersons are peak privilege: inherent high social status, brains, looks, charisma, athleticism, and massive wealth. They could never have been anything less than extremely popular, just by virtue of their last name and the nature of the town's social dynamics and politics. And they do enjoy that privilege (esp Curt lol). However, it should go without saying that being so high profile, even (or maybe especially) just in the isolated scope of your hometown, isn't always a boon. Their family's and their own perceived failings are widely discussed and privately mocked and/or celebrated. Real friends are scarce while fake ones and snakes are plentiful. Plus their dad is a gigantic dickhead who sees his kids as extensions of his own status and reputation and not much else. Public shortcomings make for an unbearable time at home and the world outside the estate is at once overly accommodating, full of assumptions, and even subtly hostile at times—all unrelated to their own actions or character.

And with the MC, I think the narrative will make it clear there are several ways that story can go. You start off with irresponsible parents that have lost their wealth due to their own mismanagement and material ambitions—how that affects any individual MC should differ based on choices and consequences!

So why bring any of that up when I was supposed to be talking about my cut OC? 😂😂

Leo was going to be the unwelcome recent addition to his uncle’s household, the son of a brother his aunt hates for (petty af) Reasons, and she took that resentment out on him directly by restricting his access to nearly every aspect of the family's wealth. Especially material goods and living conditions. He was basically treated like the help, tasked with playing nanny for his many younger cousins and burdened with doing the homework and providing academic cover for his dumb as rocks cousin in the same grade as you all. To sum it up, he was basically a victim of trafficking at the hands of his own family with his uncle out of town enough to feign ignorance to how bad his wife was treating his nephew and his aunt going out of her way to keep him busy, at home, and isolated. This is sadly a super common form of trafficking in Francophone African cultures (although I don't think most people view it as trafficking. and I’m sure the same is true of other cultures but I don’t want to speak outside of my purview). And like I mentioned above, it’s how my own mom's (and idek how many cousins') child/teenhood went.

It’s a perspective on modern wealth, privilege and greed that I really, really wanted to tell. I am confident in saying it hasn't been explored in interactive fiction yet (though correct me—and direct me 👀—if I'm wrong) and out of all the wealth/greed explorations I came up with, it's the one I have the closest personal ties to and the strongest feelings about. The characters and plans I had for it were detailed and I'm proud of them but at the end of the day... I just couldn't find a place for Leo in the story at large.

Leo was, in fact, the last main character I came up with, when I had already designed and fleshed out the larger story and started crafting the timeline of major events. I think the worst thing I could have done for a story and perspective that I care about this much is shove it into a plot that didn't have room for it at the very base level, regardless of how well the character or his story is written. Shoe-horned characters always stick out. I didn’t want to disservice Leo by having him be the character that did nothing or could be removed from the main plot without affecting it at all, y’know? That’s so much worse than just forgoing the indulgence, imo :((

ugh.... Leooooo 😭 I'm so sorry bb, I failed youuu 😥

[succubusfuccubus]

Queer being a slur any worse than any other name used for us thru history is a terf/exclu fabrication

no it isn’t

terf is an acronym meaning Trans Exclusionary Radical Feminism--it means nothing more or less.  It was coined specifically to describe rhetoric focused on denying Trans women space and making the world more hostile, and unsafe for them.  Terfs didn’t “make” it a slur, they don’t give a damn about the word q*eer.  They’re focused on spreading misinformation through fiction and “non” fiction and related campaigns (x)(x), pushing for anti-trans legislation, and donating to conversion therapy.  Using “terf” to mean anything else besides denying space and violent anti-trans rhetoric dilutes the term.  Many trans women have expressed their frustration over this. Please please please listen to trans women, I’m begging you.

As for being an “exclu” fabrication?...no?  Q*eer has always been a slur--an expression of violence and hate--and is nothing like cishets sneering lesbian/bisexual/gay/transgender, they say it like it’s a dirty word because of L/G/B/T-phobia, when in fact--they were terms we chose for ourselves to describe our own experiences.  Q*eer wasn’t chosen by us--it was chosen by cishets.   The term was “taken up” (not the same thing as reclamation) in the 80s as a response to the Reagan administration’s blatant refusal to do anything about AIDs because it primarily affected black/brown and LGBT communities, and to them, we were “just” q*eers. Throwing the word back in cishets’ faces was for shock value and to make them uncomfortable.

It never stopped being a violent slur.  I have friends and comrades who have trauma associated with the term, whether it was from bullying, abuse, or physical violence.  In fact--my best fucking friend is currently receiving sui bait, death threats, and is being doxxed endangering her because her household is homophobic--why?  All because she didn’t want to be called q*eer.  Kinda fucked up that everybody is gleefully rushing to dox a lesbian who didn’t want to be called q*eer because of past bullying...seems...idk....lesbophobic...and this isn’t just a one-time thing--it’s fucking consistent.

While some find empowerment in it, for others it evokes a history and continuity of disenfranchisement and systematic violence against us.  All the argument is is that it can only be reclaimed on an individual basis, and using it as an umbrella term dubbing the LGBT community the q*eer community forces those mentioned above under a term they associate with trauma. I censor the word q*eer out of respect and empathy for my friends and comrades. It is so uncomfortable to be in an academic setting and to hear your professors and other students throw around the word q*eer as though it had no weight--now we got cishets using it.  

Q*eer is an ambiguous term that erases specific identities--for many, terms like lesbian/bisexual/gay/transgender are empowering.  They describe specific experiences regarding our own relations to sexuality and gender.  I used to call myself q*eer out of internalized lesbophobia.  I grew up hearing the word lesbian said in hushed/scandalized tones.  I saw lesbian as a reductive term and associated it with terfdom and biphobia...which is...lesbophobic.  Lesbian describes my own experience in a way q*eer never could as it was too vague.  The safety I found in the word q*eer wasn’t the same thing as security, and calling myself lesbian means to me that I overcame comphet and internalized lesbophobia, and is a demonstration of pride and respect for lesbian history.  

[sofia-comet]

Shut up

pairing: ushijima wakatoshi x reader (any gender!!)

genre: fluff, friends to lovers i guess

length: 1.7k words

omg hello this is my first time writing something shdfhsdfg so this oneshot was inspired by one of my favorite songs, Shut Up by Greyson Chance! also bc i wanted something to help me cope with stress and idk writing something seemed like the best way possible. unbeta-ed but who cares! 

I cannot hold my tongue, you give me much to say

The first time you met Ushijima Wakatoshi was when your family moved in next door. You were unable to help out with the moving boxes so you decided to walk around the neighborhood. You caught him playing volleyball with a man that appeared to be his father.

The man asked if you wanted to play with his son and you agreed. For the rest of the day, the boy taught you volleyball with as little words as possible. It was mostly you in the conversation -- asking him questions and repeating his instructions as he nodded all throughout. His father couldn’t help but smile as his quiet and shy son made a new friend.

For the rest of your childhood you were hanging out with him. You were the most talkative person ever. You never ran out of things while he would look at you and either nod or shake his head. You didn’t mind his silence as long as you know he understood every word you said.

Although there are times when you would be taken aback at how much he remembered the things you’ve said. One day he gave you your favorite flower, the next was a drawing of a butterfly in your favorite color, and whenever you got sick, he would visit you with a snack that you loved the most.

He knew so much about you, yet you only knew little about him. It was your main worry that you could count on your fingers about the things he liked. He likes volleyball, Hayashi rice, the volleyball ace in his dad’s stories, Vabo-chan, drawing, taking care of plants, and -- what else?

One time, both of you were resting under the tree after playing volleyball and a finished session of rambling about life, you asked him, “Wakatoshi-chan, what is your most favorite thing in the world?”

He faced you, staring at your eyes, and all he could say was “You.”

=====

I’m sweating bullets, nervous that you’ll push away

You developed your first crush right before first year of high school started. It was finally decided that you were allowed to move into Shiratorizawa Academy and live in the dorms, and the crush in question helped you with the packing and moving. His name was Ushijima Wakatoshi.

It happened on a whim, really. You realized that the both of you were growing up. His body and facial features were maturing, and you knew that he was growing up to be a handsome young man.

You both agreed to help each other unpack first in your dorm then his after. You couldn’t help but feel so anxious because it was your first time living away from your parents and on top of that, Shiratorizawa’s high academic standards were something you have to uphold. When the pressure gets to you too much, you tend to spout out a lot of “what ifs.”

But it was Wakatoshi to the rescue. He stood close in front of you and held both of your shoulders, which made you pause and look up to him. Huh, since when did he get so tall?

“You’ll be okay. I’m here”

And suddenly those five words washed the nerves away. You closed the distance between you two and wrapped your arms around him. This is nothing new, you say to yourself, and he followed by enveloping his strong arms around you, but why do I feel a new kind of anxiety?

You stayed in each other's arms for a few minutes. You let the rise and fall of his chest relax you right now. High school is going to be alright if it’s with him, but at the same time, high school isn’t going to be alright with him either as your platonic feelings for him bloomed into something else.

“Say, Wakatoshi-chan,” you asked out of the blue, and you felt his chest vibrate as he hummed in response. “I know I’m very talkative and I always tell you to stop when it gets too much. Well...a-am I still annoying to you?”

Until now, you still fear the day when he stops being your friend and finally decides that you were being too annoying. Because of him and your feelings for him, you became too self-conscious.

You retracted from him, but his arms still held firm around you. You tilted your head up to meet his olive green eyes with yours, staring at him with anticipation. With his left hand -- the hand that his father fought for, the hand that helped him unleash his strength, the hand that proved him to be different -- gently moved from your back to hold the back of your head. He pulled you back into his chest and held you tighter than before.

Still on his chest, you felt him shaking his head.

And when your eyes catch mine, I know I talk too much

=====

You have fallen hard for Ushijima Wakatoshi. You actually had planned to confess to him, but his serious and stoic nature made it hard to recognize his true feelings for you.

Three years have passed. You and your childhood friend are in your final year of high school.

You know that he will go pro after high school. The loss of his team against Karasuno only fueled his passion for the sport even more. He constantly wanted to improve and one day stand on the national stage again.

And you? Well, you wanted to get into one of Japan’s top universities at least. It won’t be easy, but you had the support from your friends and family. That familiar feeling has once again come back, fresh as the day as when you had to prepare for high school. The uncertainty of the future coupled with the feelings for the man you liked for years that are getting nowhere were adding to the weight on your shoulders.

It became harder to sleep as the end of your high school life approached. The time on your phone flashed 2 am and you texted him about meeting up at the nearby convenience store. You knew how sleeping on time and waking up on time mattered to him, but it came to your surprise when he replied with an “okay, see you there.”

Leaning on the wall at the side of the convenience store alone, you saw him approaching you. You could not help but notice how eye candy he was in his joggers and plain t-shirt. The darkness helped conceal the blush formed on your cheeks.

He leaned on the wall next to you and you both stood there in silence. Your heart was beating louder than your thoughts at that point, but at the same time you felt relaxed because his presence simply helped you forget the weight you’re carrying. How does this man make you nervous yet bring you comfort at the same time?

“So uh, Wakatoshi,” you started. “We’ll be graduating soon.” He huffed in reply. You looked at the moon, because the man next to you would only distract your thoughts.

“To be honest, I don’t really have concrete plans for my future as long as I get into some university. I’m fine with any degree as long as it gets me somewhere, you know? And for you, you know what you want. You’re gonna go pro and I’m so proud of you. I’ll be supporting you all the way, just as what I’ve been doing in your matches in the past years.” You didn’t notice him inching closer to you as you continued your monologue.

The moon, in all its hypnotic glory, made you believe you were talking to it; it was you and the moon at that moment. “We have been together like, all the time. I wonder why you haven’t grown tired of me yet honestly. And this is the first time we’ll be apart...after high school I mean. I’ll forever cherish these moments and whenever I miss you I’ll think about all the times we’ve had together. I can’t help it if you were such a constant presence in my life.

“I just wanna say, thank you, for everything. I can’t list them down, that would take me years! Even if we can’t see each other a lot, I really don’t want us to grow apart, that’s all I’m asking for. But I completely understand if you don’t like me...I know I’m too much at times so I don’t know how you put up with me so, I’m sorry. God, I get too self-conscious at times… I know you mean well and that I should trust you more but... What doesn’t help is that I like you so mu--” You stopped. What? You punished your own mouth for moving faster than your brain.

You broke your gaze at the moon to face the man next to you. Your eyes widened because he stood closer to you than earlier. His olive eyes pierced you and with one look they told you to stop putting your focus at the rock in the sky. “Wakatoshi? I… w-well… Wow! What did I say?” You were laughing and shaking at that point. Did I have caffeine today? Your eyes were everywhere except his. He placed his left hand on your chin to tilt your head up and look back at his face. You drank in his olive orbs and handsome face, making sure this moment etched in your mind forever. 

In his eyes you were the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, even if you were a blushing mess.

“What I mean t-to say is, uhh... yes, I do like you. A lot. Not just as your closest friend, but as something more than that. I’ve fallen for you, Wakato-” For the first time in your friendship, he has cut you off from your words by pressing his own lips with yours. This was the first time he shut you up from your ramblings rather than give a single nod or a few words in reply. This was the first time he rendered you speechless.

Your arms snaked around his neck as you kissed him back. It was innocent and chaste, and it reminded you of the day he declared that you were his favorite thing.  You still were.

And in that kiss, was when Ushijima Wakatoshi showed something that spoke more words than you have ever said to him in all these years together.

So give me your two lips, and baby I’ll shut up.

[we-are-inevitable]

modern art // javid (ch. 1)

A/N: hi !! so some of you may remember an old songfic i did in march of last year, titled ‘modern art’ after the song “IDK You Yet” by Alexander 23. well, i’ve always thought that that one shot would work great as a stand alone fic, and here we are! i have ch. 1 edited and SO MUCH of it as changed- like, for example, the fic is a chapter fic now !! regardless, i hope you guys like this !!

WARNINGS: depression, anxiety, self-deprecation, past addiction, mentions of addiction, just general Bad Times- pls be mindful when reading !! it’s just very Not Happy rn ADDITIONAL INFO: all characters are in their mid-twenties in the fic. oh also this is probably important but it’s a soulmate au !!

Read On AO3!

tag list: @bound-for-santa-fe @wannabecowboypunk @shippingcannons @yahfancyclamwiththepurlinside @smallsies @deliciouspeachpirate @newsies-is-my-erster 

Jack doesn't know what’s going on with himself, but he knows that he could really use his soulmate right about now.

They’ve communicated before. Never verbally, and never enough to reveal who they were. Perhaps they are both just... dealing with some unspoken fears, dealing with the worry of rejection sitting heavy in their chests. Perhaps they both like this mystery- the uncertainty that came with the notes scrawled across their bodies in a handwriting that isn’t their own.

Or perhaps they just aren’t ready to take the plunge. To grow up and face the harsh fact that, as soon as they meet, wherever and whenever that may be, a new chapter of their life will unfold. Consume them. Change anything and everything they’ve ever known or held dear.

They had been braver when they were children, that much was true. Jack remembers staying up late often, writing notes on his skin and watching in awe as the replies appeared. He remembers the giddy rush of trying to quickly wash off the ink on his wrist when they ran out of space to talk, and, oh, how they talked. There were school days when Jack would go to class exhausted, feeling like he’d been walking through quicksand for miles on end, but all of it had been worth it. The exhaustion he felt had been worth being able to talk to them until two, three, four in the morning. Sometimes he regretted it, of course, but only because it was harder for him to focus in class. Never because he was upset at them.

He could never be upset with them.

Even now, Jack remembers a lot about his soulmate. They liked music. They knew how to play the piano. They were into a few video games, even some that Jack had never played, and said that they always tried carrying a book with them wherever they went. Jack remembers that, as a younger kid, they liked Harry Potter and Percy Jackson, but also liked analyzing Shakespeare and Edgar Allen Poe and a bunch of other fancy authors that Jack had never even heard of. They were intimidatingly smart, and sometimes, would carefully correct Jack’s grammar whenever he misspelled a word or something- but they were never mean about it, they were just… there. A steady presence that he could count on.

Fifteen year old Jack dreamed of finding them one day. But now, twenty-five year old Jack is losing hope.

He can’t exactly help it. For starters, he and his soulmate haven’t communicated in… well, shit, it had to be nearly a year. Maybe nine months or so, but there’s no way to tell for sure, and even then, their conversations since reaching adulthood have been dull, for lack of a better word. A few positive comments here, a ‘have a good day’ there- it’s all so mundane, and neither of them can be blamed for it. They both have busy lives- or, well, Jack does, at least. His job as a graphic designer is hard enough on its own, but the added pressure of doing freelance work and commissions on the side has been eating away at him for weeks, coupled with debilitating self-doubt and lack of motivation for… anything.

Saying that he’s overwhelmed is the understatement of the century.

There is always another design, another client, another meeting, another deadline, another sleepless night as he stares at a blank canvas and prays for a spark of inspiration from whatever God is listening. Usually his inspiration comes from the world around him- his friends, city life, even the quiet confines of his apartment, but right now... Jack is stuck. He had holed himself up in his room days ago, trying and failing to get out of bed every morning when the time came to work- and thank God that the majority of his work could be done from home. His boss was understanding, too, to an extent.

Still, though, there’s a constant heavy weight on his chest that prevents him from moving most days, and he’s lucky if he even gets up long enough to shower or eat or do literally anything aside from lie in silence and count the cracks in his ceiling.

Nothing had happened to him recently to bring this on, from what he can tell. Jack has always been the happy-go-lucky leader, the man with a plan, the guy who always knew just what to say to motivate others into doing the best thing for themselves, but when that responsibility is reflected back onto himself, Jack feels helpless. There are words waiting to be said, sketches waiting to be drawn, designs waiting to be sent to clients… yet Jack lies there, motionless in his room for three days before he even has the energy, the willpower, to pull back his curtains and allow the sunlight to shine through. There is so much he wants to do, so much he needs to do, but he can't bring himself to do any of it.

In all twenty-five years of his life, through all of the things he’s been through, the ups and downs and foster homes and graduations and birthdays and funerals and therapists and rehab facilities and whatever the fuck else life decided to throw at him, Jack has never felt so worthless, so… lonely. His closest friends are all moving on with their lives. Many have already found their soulmate, have settled down and hidden their rowdy, rambunctious pasts behind skeletons in a closet. They’d all gotten their adventures done and over with in high school and college, and most are moving onto bigger and better things in life. They have careers. Families. Some have children, others have pets, a few have an insane amount of plants to care for.

All have seemingly left Jack behind in the dust.

No one told him when to flip the switch.

No one told him when he had aged out of adventure.

Now, they would never say it, but Jack knows. He knows. Saturday hangouts and trips to the bar had been replaced by Sunday church services and playdates for the kids. Rather than hearing yelling from his living room after his friends had all been teetering just on the edge between tipsy and fucked up, Jack hears the news, and documentaries, and podcasts, and the ghosts of a past life that he still seemed to be desperately clinging on to.

Katherine had been the one to tell him that he needed to grow up, though she didn’t put it in such a blunt manner. No, she’s just.... gently urging him to find a bigger apartment, or buy matching furniture from a place that is not a thrift store, or purchase dishes that weren’t of the plastic Walmart brand. She says it was because she wants to see him in a more professional, "adulty" lifestyle, but he knows it’s really because she can see that he’s a mess.

Deep down, Jack knows she’s right. She’s always right.

He just can’t help but feel cemented in place, dreaming of the past while dreading the new future ahead of him.

Jack never asked to feel so broken for no reason. All of the hope and optimism he had felt as a teenager was gone, lost in a sea of uncertain plans and shitty jobs and bill extensions and canvases dropped onto the floor with no rhyme or reason. And, yes, maybe Jack would look dramatic to someone who didn’t know his situation, but Jack knows what dramatic feels like. Dramatic feels like watching his best friend, Charlie, belt onstage in front of a backdrop that he helped create for the school play. Dramatic feels like laughing at the top of his lungs while walking through a random gas station at two in the morning, joined by Race and Al, all while higher than a kite. Dramatic feels like driving to the outskirts of the city with Katherine, climbing onto the roof of an old building and screaming about all of their stress, their anxiety, their insecurities, just to have some form of emotional release.

Dramatic doesn’t feel like sadness. It’s not supposed to.

Not for Jack.

He had been so… so happy, as a teenager. Proud and defiant and carefree. He was the kind of guy to skate and smoke weed in Central Park until midnight and take a math test at eight in the morning the next day. He was the kid who stood on a table in the cafeteria and came out as bisexual to everyone around him, just because of a dumbass bet that he didn’t even get paid for. He was the boy who wasn’t at all good in an academic sense, but who always knew how to talk himself out of trouble, who always came up with the most ridiculous- or most believable- lies to cover his ass when he needed it, who was always the class favorite, the teacher’s pet without meaning to be.

Jack had felt on top of the world back then, but now he’s struggling to even get off of the ground. The longer time goes on, the more lost Jack feels inside his own life. He feels like something was missing, something big. Something bigger than himself.

When his mother was alive, which now felt like lifetimes ago, she would often echo this old wives’ tale about how it’s best to find your soulmate while you’re younger, just to save them- and yourself- the pain of being alone for a long time. Jack had always kind of believed her; logically, he knew it was true, but he had always told himself that it wouldn’t happen to him. That he would be fine alone, though it wouldn’t be ideal, and that he would have plenty of time for soulmates after he got out and made a name for himself.

He’s starting to think, though, that maybe she was right. Maybe Jack had waited too long to make a move, to make contact again, because now, he just feels nauseous even thinking about it.

Don’t get him wrong, he knows the negative effects of self deprecation and not taking his own mental health seriously, he’s been to rehab before, blah, blah, blah, but, fuck, how could he put his soulmate through something like this? This fucked up state of mind he has now. Jack can’t even imagine talking to Katherine about this, and Katherine had been his best friend for over a decade. He can’t just meet his soulmate now- it’s been too long, he’s too messed up, they won’t like him, they’ll hate him for not trying hard enough, and Jack will just end up alone again, wasting away in his bedroom because no one fucking cares. No one cares. He has nobody.

That’s not true. He has Medda, his mom, his savior, his impulse control, but the thought of telling her that everything is acting up again makes him want to scream. He has Tony, but Tony has Al, and Tony and Al have a kid- a sweet little five year old girl who calls Jack ‘Uncle Jackie’ and takes no shit from anyone. He has Katherine, but Katherine has her soulmate- this dude named Darcy, who Jack doesn’t have much of an opinion on because they just met, like, a month ago, and Jack hasn’t exactly been emotionally ready for a hangout session between the three of them. He also has Charlie, and Charlie has certainly seen him in worse times- like when Jack was kind of hooked on pills for the entirety their freshman year of college- but Charlie has grad school to worry about and Charlie would hate him if he bothered him with this.

Still, there are other people who would listen, probably. He could easily talk to Elmer, or Romeo, or Specs, or Jojo or Finch or Sean or a fucking therapist but that’s just it, isn’t it? If he talks, he burdens, and Jack Francisco Kelly would rather run himself into the ground than be a burden anyone.

So, he makes a vow.

He makes eye contact with his reflection in the bathroom mirror. He’s gripping onto the sink, holding on for dear life, as he stares into his own sunken eyes. He takes in his appearance. Damp, messy hair, falling down to cover his forehead. Pale skin, which isn’t normal at all. Dark circles have taken their place around his eyes, and his smile- one of his favorite things about himself- is… nonexistent.

Distantly, Jack registers himself dumping a full bottle of ibuprofen into the sink. And then, he does the same thing with the bottle of melatonin from his medicine cabinet. The valium follows. He lets the water run for a long time. It's not that he doesn't trust himself- he'd done so, so good in rehab, and he doesn't even feel urges that often anymore- but it's better safe than sorry, especially since he's like... this.

This is not the Jack Kelly he’s used to anymore. This is not the Jack Kelly he wants to be.

But this Jack Kelly is the one who vows not to reach out. The one who vows to only answer when his soulmate is ready, and maybe not even then.

He doesn’t have to wait long, though.

Not when a heart appears on the back of his hand the next morning.

It’s there when Jack wakes up, and, honestly, it almost brings Jack to tears- but not necessarily for happy reasons. Sure, Jack wants to be happy. Who wouldn’t be happy after seeing something like this? A lopsided heart drawn in red ink, right on the back of his left hand- it was the definition of a symbol, of a romantic gesture, and Jack wants so badly to write back, to strike up conversation, to draw a goddamn heart, but… he can’t.

He can’t, and that’s horrible of him, and he knows it.

Right now, though… Jack can’t even work up the courage, the energy, to call his mom.

His soulmate, whoever they are, is going to have to wait.

[inevitablyuncertain]

how fitting is it tho that aedove’s god is about the balance of light and dark 

because besides fate, that’s another good theme through the campaign and the characters

the first arc was all mysterious trials and a lot of them including darkness (our first room started with magical darkness) or dim lighting (the wyrmlings in the pool) or just the whole thing being in an underground cavern system. 

there is, however, for all the theatrics, an element of...idk. everyone in the trials knows what these dangers are for. it’s basically a more intense and dangerous haunted house. 

and then our final (official) trial has this bright doorway to the castle

which turns out to be an illusion

which is SUCH GOOD SHIT because it’s in this well-lit and seemingly normal castle that the real freaky mystery stuff is happening

ch 2 is really interesting too a lot happens in the two nights that we play through (total 3 days, 2 nights), that what we do in the darkness is just as illuminating as what we do in the day. things sometimes got stranger at night (kiron turning into a bear to talk with aedove, meeting gods...), but good and helpful. 

and ch 2 is where the best and worst of the characters really comes up; what’s important to them and what they’re willing to do for it

aedove’s willing to make sacrifices because he understands the weight of what that means. sirina strives to be logical and weight the pros and cons, yessika is looking for the most direct path (and is frustrated when there isn’t one) - stop the ever-elusive threat. and it’s kiron who’s willing to sacrifice...’himself’ is a little dramatic, but he’s willing to betray his friends for his morals (morals that those same friends helped him achieve). and ever single one of them falls into this shadowy moral ambiguity

aedove:

a paladin, but motivated by revenge. a soldier seemingly motivated by a clear purpose, but relying on something like “blind” faith. 

a drow that craves the light. obligation vs love and heart and emotion. and now, both a paladin of light/shadow as well as a warlock with the god of the balance of life/death. he’s always trying to find a balance and peace amidst this chaotic world if his

kiron: 

raised in the underdark from birth to be ruthless - he has ONLY known darkness, especially for the additional shunning.cruelty from his family for being too soft. so he comes to the surface, to rule or kill as directed by his master. he’s supposed to be ruthless, and he has all the like, mental ability to “betray” us, but his fucking soul-deep morals? the whole time he’s trying to betray them he’s also jumping at any chance to step off from the ‘duel to the death’ proposal against his friends

this boy’s so bad at being bad 

it is so fucking interesting to me how much his character arc is around the belief in growth from ch 1

to ch 2

(and yet. he did let an ecoterrorist escape because of those morals. at which point we start looking at the difference between “right” choices and “moral” choices)

sirina: 

level-headed, ambitious creature that she is is fucking ~dancing~ on the moral edge sometimes. she’s just more reserved about it than yess. she’s the colder side of lawful alignment. the ‘this is what i need to do’ kind of side. but done for the love of her country and her people. and interestingly, it’s kiron who seems to see through her the most, in both the first and the second arc

and then yessika :V

i keep joking about her terrible insights being the reason she doesn’t trust anyone, but she really does talk a lot; she’s big on communicating. she likes things to be clear, like the nerdy academic she is at heart (which is why mysteries and conspiracies frustrate her so much). 

she loves a Lot which means that things that push her there get a Lot in return. and the second arc kept looking at her options to be a hero

or a monster

and little miss ‘true neutral’

really can’t pick sides on that coin. she, at heart, has pretty selfish morals (if we’re going to be generous enough to call them that)

the only thing i will say is that yessika actually isn’t all that keen on killing people (because i, the player, don’t usually like killing people)? she’s big and scary and she threatens a LOT, and she might even mean it in the moment, but like i said. not a hero, but also not a monster

[convervative-blog]

essay preparation, Conservative Judaism: Our Ancestors To Our Descendants by Elliot M. Dorff

alright buds gonna go thru this book, theres chapters and then like essay questions, so im here reading the chapters then answering the essay questions. im fucken ignorant as shit so this is all my stupid opinions that im still developing and it might change as i learn more idk. enjoy, lots of surprise-zionism in here skip if thats not ur thing

I. yes services start early morning we do prelims then shacharit torah & musaf then kiddush congregants range in ages from young to elderly (predominantly older tho) and in observance from super frum (ok like 5 of us lol) to basically secular & very pluralistic no one cares, very close-knit, "maritime personality disorder" very evident, love it

II. never studied at yeshiva or went to hebrew school, looking into doing so (u know when), actually the reason i picked up this book, im inherently drawn to like childrens resources (this is a highschool level book but u get it) bc as an adult i missed out on jewish child education, so im drawn to childrens resources to "learn from the start" so to speak

III. parents are gentiles, no jewish identity really, grandma resolutely denied being a jew though got 'mistaken' for one almost daily due to last name and appearance, 'corrected' people constantly, got bullied for it (i say grandma but its still patrilineal dont @ me), she didnt know anything about judaism and was frequently antisemitic and firmly catholic

IV. conservative judaism means that halachic rules are binding but that they should and must be interpreted via the lens of the society in which we live, in order to reduce suffering and increase overall observance (e.g. women, lgbt+, accessibility), conservative judaism also means an affordance of leniency in individualistic expressions of obligatory mitzvot

V. emancipation occurred from 1776-1880, within western europe (france holland england) during the rise of nationalism jews were considered naturalized citizens of their respective countries & not foreign outliers, allowed to serve in army etc  but had negative impact bc jews at the time began to lose their jewish identity whilst adopting goyische practices (ref. assimilation)

VI. absolutely and i fully intend on making aliyah, learning and speaking hebrew is nourishing for my soul, its an internal secret of mine that “magneto was right” u know, “does mainstreaming work?” and like, i say this not bc i believe jews should be separate (or even that jews should immigrate to israel) but in the interest of jewish protection and continuation, is mainstreaming going to contribute to jewish protection and continuation? mainstreaming needs to include existence. u cant mainstream two groups if one group is only accepted when they dont exist as themselves. “jews and gentiles can exist together! but u better show up to work on yom kippur.” jews deserve self-determination and to have the opportunity to live in their homeland which is the only safe place on earth for jews to publicly and fully express their judaism, to go to a school where they can safely and publicly express their judaism, to go to a synagogue where they can safely and publicly express their judaism, to go to a job where they can safely and publicly express their judaism. u tell me where that is, is it where u live? thats the downfall of mainstreaming, bc sure jews can assimilate but what u see is that ppl who arent jews will only interact with them if they renounce their judaism. sure u want to say jews and goyim living side by side respecting one anothers practices is the ideal, absolutely im "pro mainstreaming" for those ideals, but be practical! that shit aint never gonna happen, dont sacrifice yourself and ur family and ur friends for an academic concept that has never manifested itself in reality

VII. the advent of secularism! secularism is super appealing. movies! tv! books! music. mixed dancing as it were. all the things considered heretical bc they could curse g-d, but appealing on a neurological level. who doesnt wanna sit down and binge drop dead diva for 9 hours, its not me buds. so ofc many orthodox peeps would be drawn to it, but in the interest of maintaining their practices and beliefs, new movements would necessarily sprout up in response

VIII. assimilation occurred bc the advent of secularism drew alot of observant jews away from their practices and subsequently their identities, it was more appealing to be a citizen (a "german" not a "jew") bc it afforded them rights and privileges and goys would interact w them on an equal level, as long as they didnt express being jewish too much, or used their jewishness in a self-deprecating kind of way (alot of jewish comics got famous like this, ppl love listening to jews self-deprecate and in a downward shifting economy u gotta get it where u can get it)

IX. the differences between halacha in orthodox judaism and reform judaism? oh boy well today, because reform judaism looked totally different in the 1800s guys (most american jews were reform, which is why american jewish culture was so radically separate from european jewish culture and far more secular), but at the core orthodoxy believes halacha as it was written and interpreted (and as it continues to be interpreted and debated) is binding, no ifs ands or buts. u can find reasons why things can and cant be done but its always within the established halacha. reform judaism doesnt consider halacha binding but essentially “refers” to it as they develop their individual practices (”im a woman but im not gonna cover my hair if i get married bc blah blah blah” might be a reform opinion, its deciding not to follow the law, but its still referencing the law) and is exponentially more concerned with the idea of jewish peoplehood, identity, nationality, history, outside the world of torah. (yes? no? this is all shit i was spoonfed by 1 guy so like?) 

X. im writing a fucken essay on this man. need to chill out and condense. get my opinions in order. orthodoxy is appealing bc most ppl will believe the same shit u do and put the same weight on it, conservatism is more pluralistic/individualistic, definitely more secular, even tho i wholeheartedly agree with this & practice it in my life, the art of letting people do their own shit without judging them, the art of welcoming ppl into ur space despite their diverging belief systems, just: sometimes u can feel kind of silly when u know ppl probably dont take as literal interpretations as u do. strengths of reform individualism, pluralism, activism, diversity, influx of new opinions/thoughts, ppl talk to me about this i know very little about reform judaism dont get mad at me pls. weaknesses uhhhhhh lol am i gonna go there on tumblr.com 2day... weaknesses i guess would be that its not taken as seriously by outsiders? is that acceptable/right?

endin here for now!

[dancerstudying]

first semester: grades + some thoughts

hi friends! so, I just finished my first semester of college (aka university to those of you not in the US). after a week of finals and lots of stress, I’m now at home, safely ensconced in the couch doing as little as possible. however, final grades were due today, so I thought I’d take a moment to run through what my grades were and kind of reflect on them. I wanted to do this both bc I thought it could give people a better idea of the transition b/t high school and college grades-wise, and also as a record for myself.

a note/disclaimer:

if you don’t want to know what my grades were, you don’t have to read this! I’m not trying to brag and I don’t want this to be something to compare yourself to! everyone is on their own path and has their own definition of success -- a bad grade for me might be a great one for you, and vise versa.

also, this will probably get pretty long. grab a snack.

some background about grades in the US

grades are given on a scale from A to F, with A being the best and F being a fail (we skip E tho idk why). grades are based on a combo of exams, quizzes, assignments, and essays, with the specific percentage/which of these counts determined by the professor. this varies from school to school or even from class to class but generally the scale is

A: >93.3%

A-: 90-93.3%

B+: 86.7-89.9%

B: 83.4-86.6%

B-: 80-83.3%

ok I’m tired of typing things out but you get the point. this pattern continues in the 70s for C and the 60s for D. usually anything below a 60 is an F (fail) but again this can depend. some classes are graded on a curve, where the grade boundaries are moved either up or down so that the majority of students get a B-/C+, which is supposed to be the average. this prevents grade inflation and also helps you out if the class is very difficult and test averages are in the 50s or 60s (pretty common for classes like organic chemistry).

some background about my grades in high school

I feel like this info is important for context and also to give an idea of the academic level I generally operate at (okay that sounds v pretentious). anyway, it’s pretty generally expected that you can expect to see a drop in your grades from high school to college. this differs based on a ton of things, but almost everyone experiences it so it’s totally normal and to be expected! anyway, I went to a fairly competitive and well-ranked public (government funded) high school, and I grew up in a well-educated university town, so I felt I was pretty prepared for college. I took mostly AP/honors courses and ended with a 3.95 GPA (unweighted) when I graduated. basically, I was almost a straight A student with a few Bs in there (thanks to pre-calc and AP Spanish). 

I’m now at a fairly selective school, though not anything close to the Ivy League -- I think the acceptance rate for my class was 17-18%. of course, selectivity is not a great indicator of how difficult classes are, as many selective schools (particularly Ivy Leagues) have rampant grade inflation.

my majors are neuroscience and dance and I’m on a pre-med track.

anyway, let’s get down to the nitty gritty: my grades this semester.

early modern England (3 credit hours): A- 

I took this course because I placed out of introductory writing but still needed a writing-intensive course and it seemed interesting enough. honestly, it was much more difficult than I expected. I consider myself a fairly good writer, but the professor I had for this course was a tough grader for papers. I did manage to get an A on my final paper which was a victory. after easily getting all As in writing and history classes in high school, an A- is a little hard to accept. however, I worked really hard in this class and am honestly satisfied with my grade as I know most people do not do as well in this class. it was also a 2000 (sophomore level) class, so I was definitely being challenged.

intensive ballet IV (3 credit hours): B+

so, this is my lowest grade. at first, I was really disappointed by it, but it is a 4000 level course (mostly juniors and seniors) and we’re graded based partially on skill, so I have to accept it and move on and just hope to do better next semester as I’m taking ballet IV again. I know I could have worked harder in this class so I’m not going to complain about it, just learn from it and try to improve.

intro to cell & molecular biology (3 credit hours): A

this is probably what I’m proudest of. this class is known for being a true weed-out course for pre-meds and most people just hope to pass, but I got an A! it feels especially good because I know I worked hard for it and didn’t just skate by on natural intelligence. I also hadn’t taken biology since freshman year of high school so there was a steep learning curve. I didn’t just do well, I honestly learned so much and doing well in this class confirmed for me that pre-med is the right choice.

general chemistry I - lecture (3 credit hours): A-

I have such a complicated relationship with chemistry, and honestly, I’m really glad I’m done with this class. I hate to blame professors but sometimes you just get a really bad one and this was one of those cases. his lectures were extremely disorganized and he didn’t explain things clearly at all. it’s partially my fault that I didn’t get an A, though, as I definitely could have put more time and thought into studying, especially for the final. it was just so hard to stay motivated when I could barely follow lectures. I have to take gen chem II next semester but thank god I have a different professor.

general chemistry I - lab (1 credit hour): A

not much to say about this one. I’m happy to have gotten an A since it really intimidated me at first -- lab in college is way more serious than in high school. I learned how to write a proper lab report which is an important skill as a science major.

honors colloquium (1.5 credit hours): A

I loved this class soooo freaking much. everyone in the honors program has to take a first year seminar and I chose one about modernism and if it’s still relevant to the contemporary world. it was also a discussion based class which I love and I got to write my final paper on literally any topic I wanted and how it was related to modernism (mine was about the modernist search for identity in The Handmaid’s Tale, and I’m so proud of that paper, especially considering I wrote it the day it was due). anyway, not a super hard class, but still proud of that A.

urban sociology (3 credit hours): A

another class which I loved. I found it kind of easy as it was mostly memorization of concepts and theorists and I have a good memory, but I did put more effort in than I would have to an “easy” class in high school, and was rewarded by getting 100% on the final! would highly recommend sociology to literally anyone -- I’m taking another sociology class next semester and am considering a minor in it.

dance company (1 credit hour): A

this is like, not a real grade because dance company isn’t even a real class -- it’s just on my schedule so I can get credit for performing in the fall dance show. I’m pretty sure everyone who shows up to rehearsals and performances gets an A. regardless, I’m happy for the boost to my GPA.

so that’s it! overall, I ended with a 3.7925 GPA. I have to confess that it is slightly lower than I would have liked, but I’m overall happy with my efforts considering this was my first semester of college. my class load next semester is a little bit lighter, both in terms of credits and in terms of difficulty of classes, so that will hopefully make things a little more manageable. I have to have a 3.6 by the end of this year and a 3.8 by the end of sophomore year to stay in the honors program, and considering I’m almost at a 3.8 now I think it’s completely doable. 

I hope this was useful to those of you who are starting college soon. obviously this differs from school to school and especially if you’re not in the US, but in general you can expect a slight dip in your grades. it shouldn’t be anything dramatic if you can keep organized and on top of things, but there are a lot of transitions associated with starting college so don’t feel badly if things don’t go according to plan! you have time to make up for it, and med schools/law schools/grad schools know that grades your first semester of freshman year are not necessarily fully reflective of your abilities and will likely pay more attention to your grades later on.

thanks for reading this whole rambling thing! also, I might make a separate post about differences in grades between high school and college (how things are weighted, harshness of grading, etc.) so let me know if you’d find that helpful!

[extemporaneousmusings]

7/1/2018

I am currently in Logan, waiting for my flights home (although there’s a storm in Chicago and my flight is delayed, so we shall see whether I actually make it back to OH tonight). 

Pictured above is what I spent a good chunk of my Xmas money on: two sets of diameter gauges that I’ve been lusting after for the past 3 years. I’m not saying they’ll totally revolutionize my drawing kit, but they kinda will. Although that’s how I feel whenever I buy new gear/tools. The possibilities are always limitless!! (My work flow remains ever-the-same, no matter what the purchase has been…) I also got two super nice metal scale bars that I’m v pleased with (the dude gave them to me for free, since I dropped so much cash on the profile sets.)

I’m feeling a bit conflicted about my time at the conference. It was really wonderful to see all my friends, many of whom had not seen me since I was in a hospital bed in Greece, or even before I got hurt. But I don’t know how I’m feeling about work right now.

Part of me is Stoked. I’m going to get back, finish my thesis in the next two months which will be exhilarating and frustrating, and just great to get done. I haven’t touched it in a while, and I’m at the point where I can feel myself ready to get Down To Business and crank something really good out. But, on the other hand, I was not that interested or impressed by most of the talks I saw, and I didn’t even go to that many. I feel like I should be more excited by the scholarship that’s being presented in the largest conference for my field. I saw so many people, in so many different phases of their lives and careers, from my friends who are applying to PhD programs at the moment, to my friends who are already tenured faculty at universities. The conversations I had with them traversed the full spectrum of emotions about the field/ivory tower/etc. Personally, I am increasingly disenchanted with the field, and with working in universities more explicitly. The most invigorating conversations I had all weekend were ones about getting out of the academy and doing outreach, education reform, engaging with new technologies, etc. to bring ideas about the ancient world, and history/material culture at large, to individuals who do not normally have the opportunity or access to these ideas. 

I am still trying to figure out where I stand with this, and what the hell I wanna do. I have the opportunity to bounce once I get my MA, if I so choose, but the way things stand right now, I don’t think that’ll be the case (knock on wood). Once I get the doctorate, I don’t know if I can apply to academic jobs in good conscience, let alone with any amount of security since the chances are already so slim. This is why museum work is so attractive to me, as it allows you to interact with much larger swaths of people and engage them in material they are often unfamiliar with, but curator jobs are also rare as heck, and while I could do other things in museums, curating appeals to me the most atm.

I dunno. I’m just having a really hard time right now mitigating the fact that I feel like my work is interesting and important, but also that I could still be doing interesting and important things that have way more of an impact. Selfishly, I want to preserve the lifestyle that I have for as long as possible...I love living and working in Greece for large portions of my year. I treasure the fact that this has given me an opportunity to travel extensively, which I would not have managed on my own means otherwise. I love so much of what I do, just not how I am forced to do it, and I don’t know auspicious it is that I’m having these feelings halfway through a PhD program that’s notoriously unaccepting/judgmental toward people who choose to work outside academia. People always say that the individuals who do the best in the job market are the ones who are completely bought-in to the System. And I for sure am not…so idk where that leaves me.

Regardless, it’ll be fine. I don’t think I’d regret it if I got my PhD and left the field (although I for sure do not recommend getting a PhD to anyone…), I just wish that the choice to do so didn’t seem so weighted with ideas about failure and lack of fortitude. Let’s be real, I’m feeling dramatic about this rn because I’m exhausted and overstimulated and haven’t slept in the same bed for more than 3 nights in a row for the past 3 weeks since I’ve been back on the east coast. I know I can build a great and fulfilling life for myself, and that I will somehow. I just wish the prospect of staying in academia for the long haul felt a bit less like selling my soul, along with my mental and physical health all in one fell swoop.

(I’m posting this now in Chicago, where my final flight has also been delayed by several hours...rip me.)

[kirkwallgirl-inactive]

Tagged by @john-cousland, thank you! ^u^ Doing this for Jay because I’m fretting about today’s Critical Role before I can watch the rebroadcast (when it even begins) and Jay’s always relaxing. xD

NAME: Jayden Hawke

AGE: 25 in the beginning of DA2, so canon age for a Hawke I suppose. :’), 32 or 33 by the end of it, 37-38-ish during Inquisition? -ish?

GENDER: male

ORIENTATION: Bi, demisexual

PROFESSION:  Shepherd, smuggler, ...Champion?, professional mage helper / shepherd

BACKGROUND:

Jay was born and raised in Fereldan countryside - moving from farm to farm and town to town after work. His father worked frequently in pastures, taking care of sheep, and Jay learned shepherding from him from quite early on. It was around sheep that his magic first manifested, and it was on a dying lamb that he first used spirit healing, so sheep are very important to him, and represent home and comfort. This is why he stubbornly clings to the title of ‘Shepherd’ later in life when the world would attach other titles to him - apostate, refugee, smuggler, upstart nobleman, Champion. It’s both an identity to him, and a disguise. His staff is modeled to look like a shepherd’s tool, too, and was given to him by his father.

When Jay and his family was forced to flee into Kirkwall, he was very uncomfortable with his new lot in life and missed home and the sheep and wished he could be back in Ferelden, but nevertheless resolved to make as good a life for himself and what remained of his family as possible. The change wasn’t all bad, though, because it was in Kirkwall that he found friendship pretty muh for the first time properly. In Ferelden he’d spent so much time moving from place to place, or in the pastures, that he didn’t get a lot of that sort of human interaction. He also found love in Anders, and indeed did spend a lot of his time down in the Darktown clinic learning to better use his healing, and spirit healing especially.

Eventually, after the events of DA2, Jay became a fugitive with Anders slowly gives up the title of Shepherd because he’s found a new identity that he is comfortable with and that feels like him, and feels like home, one without a clear title: mage revolutionary and fugitive, lover to the most amazing man, healer, homemaker. The two set up safe houses and a hideaway farm in Ferelden, co-operating with the Mages’ Collective and eventually the Inquisitor Eirien Trevelyan and the free mages. They set out to help the Tranquil and to find a way to use the Inquisitor’s newfound knowledge to cure them.

PHYSICAL

Body type: Tall, fat, strong. Is that a body type description? xD Jay’s got strong arms and legs from all the farmwork, and most of his weight gathers in the middle, same as his dad’s did. I am not super consistent in drawing it, and there’s some variation between DA!Jay and Fallout!Jay that idk if anyone else notices but it kinda just happens accidentally. xD

It’s evolved during his existence. I guess these are pretty close to the current idea(s):

second picture from the Fallout blog @flannelshirtandjeans

Eyes: Amber / golden brown

Hair: Red, curly, usually long unless it’s gone through disasters featuring slimes or pinesap. ^U^ Frequently worn in a half-bun, bun, or some kind of a braided updo, especially in combat when he needs it out of his face.

Skin: Freckly, burns easily in the sun

Height: 6′7′’

Weight: Who knows honestly. It’s not a static number anyway. Lighter when the times are bad, heavier when they are good. ^u^

SKILLS (S.P.E.C.I.A.L + M) I know how SPECIAL works but I’ll just throw numbers out of the window. xD

Strength- Jay’s a strong guy, honest farmwork has ensured that. In Kirkwall I think the strength shifts a little to accommodate for the different kind of physical labor (and the amount of fighting) he does, but eventually it shifts back when he and Anders move to Ferelden and onto the hideaway farm in the mountains. Even Jay’s magic-wielding in combat is more based on strength and a strong base than agile movement and speed.

Perception-  Ok, I guess? Not super good, not super bad.

Endurance- OK when he’s not recovering from stuff like nearly dying in the Arishok fight and three years of easier living afterwards! I’m convinced that at least half of his endurance comes from sheer stubbornness (and then he overdoes it). Tends to react poorly to lactose & has a bad ankle & no particular resistance to illness so I guess MMV.

Charisma- This I think varies! Mostly I think of him as a pretty charismatic guy, but like in terms that he’s friendly and tends to get along with most people who don’t actively want him or his friends or mages in general dead, and he prefers talking to fighting - BUT he isn’t a diplomat or particularly intimidating, he’s just this friendly teddy bear man. That’s useful charisma but in limited circumstances.

Intelligence- Jay is not a learned man, mostly, not in academic sense, but he’s plenty smart enough. His father taught him what he could of magical theory but learning through theory was always harder for Jay than learning through just experience. In D&D terms I’d say his Wisdom is higher than his Intelligence! :D ...But even then I feel like he’s lived in the countryside and sticking to the company of his family more than anyone else for so long that he’s just out of his element and feels less smart than he actually is in the city because he has to learn this whole new way of existing and behaving.

He can be slow to think (which some people tend to use to dismiss his wits), he can be gullible and too stubborn for his own good, he can get frustrated if someone flungs a lot of fancy words at him. But he’s also endlessly curious, learns well from just experimenting and trying things out (this is how he learned most of his magic, and Anders is ofter a little stumped about how he came to figure something out by just kinda thinking about it and maybe absently herding some sheep), has a good memory, and is good at putting his knowledge into good use. Also pretty good at the emotional side of things (when it’s not him doing the bad emotion).

Agility- Jay’s pretty firm on his feet unless his bad ankle decides to give under him, even in difficult terrain, but I wouldn’t call him agile, he just kinda unconsciously roots himself to the ground (side-effect of force magic) when he’s paying attention to staying on his feet. His combat style is more based in standing his ground and strong spells and barriers than on ducking and weaving and quick spells. It drives Anders up the wall frequently but hey, it works. xD

Luck- highly variable I think. xD

Magic- Jay specializes in ice, force magic (and some spells that are force magic in spirit if not in in-game categorization lmao), and (spirit) healing. Force magic is his best area of magic. Prior to coming to Kirkwall he’d mostly only ever healed animals and was nervous to pick up his magic and help at the clinic, but Anders was patient with him and he learned a lot from Anders and Justice both about normal healing magic, and about spirit healing. I think he only came into the spirit healing properly after leaving Kirkwall though.

LIKES

Colors – greens, browns, yellows, orange, Anders’ hair

Smells - woodfire, Anders, embrium, freshly baked bread, mints, yarrow, wool, that freezing temperature smell

Food – lamb (esp. with apples), barley porridge, blackberries, blueberries, redcurrants, apples, the forbidden milky things

Fruit – kinda listed above already. :D

Drinks - tea, water, redcurrant juice (spiced or not)

Alcoholic drinks – sima / mead, spiced ale, maybe warm apple cider

OTHER

Smoke: No

Drugs:  No

Driver’s license?: Fallout!Jay has a driver’s license!

[elliottsonthevirge]

writing tag thing

@ilovereadingandilovebreathing tagged me in this so here we go!

Short stories, novels, or poems?

to read, novels (short stories if i’m busy or in a specific mood), to write, poems

What genre do you prefer reading?

oh god i’m so bad with deciding what fits in what genre with anything. dramas maybe? like, very character focused stuff rather than plot driven. that’s not really a genre tho…

What genre do you prefer writing?

i like writing sort of atmospheric prose poetry? again not a genre but that’s my favorite type of thing to write

Are you a planner or a write-as-I-go kind of person?

i generally have an idea of what i want to do when i start out but that can change wildly as i’m writing, especially with poems. actual stories do tend to go more to that plan

What music do you listen to while writing?

i like to have some form of white noise going. generally i’ll listen to spotify’s just focus playlist, sometimes i’ll put on some wordless/unintelligible asmr, occasionally, depending on sound sensitivity at the time, that extra sound is too much and the world around me is loud enough to be white noise

Fave books/movies?

for books, i loved Of Things Gone Astray by Janina Matthewson and The Throwback Special by Chris Bachelder, those are some recent reads faves, and for movies, idk i don’t watch too many, pretty much anything from the Disney renaissance era, Chicago, idk

Any current WIPs?

yea, i’ve got 4 fics planned out that i just need to do, like 2 beginnings to fics that i ended up using but saved for potential laters, so many single verses to poems that don’t exist, and i’ve written a couple songs(lyrics really) that i’m not happy with but like the idea behind that i may or may not come back to

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

a darker/muted colored flannel(either buttoned or open over a black or gray t-shirt), darker denim jeans, black boots/sneakers, black nails & eyeliner, black jacket(that looks incredibly similar to Virgil’s old hoodie) optional

Create a character description for yourself:

They stand at least an inch shorter than every one else in the room. Their hands are shoved in their jacket pockets, but you can still notice their fingers fidgeting slightly. Their eyes, a dark gray-blue, dart around the room quickly, never quite resting on any of the others. Maroon-purple hair falls over their brows, which, despite the set jaw below, sit unfurrowed. Freckles are dotted all across their check bones and up to the sides of their eyes, slightly hidden by foundation and eyeliner. Their shoulders are drawn up slightly, and their posture hunches a little, too. They shift their weight on their feet almost rhythmically, back and forth. 

more of a character introduction than a description but oh well. i usually don’t visually describe characters in detail

Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

in poetry yes, otherwise… kind of? at this point in my writing i’m doing a lot of fanfics to build up confidence with just writing before i go for purely original works, so, i’m using characters i know, but i haven’t written any ocs yet so no chance for real people i know in real life to sneak in yet, but i probably won’t when i get to the point of writing my own stuff

Are you kill-happy with characters?

no but i am otherwise angst-happy

Dream job?

probably acting if that were a more stable and reliable field that had options for nb people, or the actual content creator. at the moment i’m thinking of being a therapist of some kind. it might also be cool to do something to do with lit review and analysis

Coffee or tea while writing?

tea! especially herbal/floral atuff

Slow or fast writer?

if i’m in the zone, i can knock out like two or three pages in an hour, but the zone rarely hits, especially with non-academic writing

Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

i draw inspiration from other content creators of every kind, people who are sharing their stories and making others feel less alone

If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

i’d probably be just a regular person, nothing too special. maybe a magic user, but no one skilled

Most fave book cliche? Least fave book cliche?

fave cliche? oh god, probably… begrudging friendships. like when two people meet and they initially can’t really stand one another but they keep running into each other or have to interact for some reason and they get to know each other and the friendship blooms. least fave cliche is when that happens but it skips a friendship and goes straight to romance

Fave places to write:

anywhere comfy with a pillow to lean back against & where i can stretch my legs out. usually just sitting in bed

Fave scenes to write?

i like to write silent moments of understanding and comfort. atmospheres are my favorite things (hence poetry is my favorite thing to write) and a bitter sweet one between two people is really really nice and calming to create

Most productive time of day for writing?

just kind of generally after 4pm

Reason for writing:

i want to convey emotions to others. with some pieces, i want to give people a point of reference for their own growth in my character growth. that’s what other people’s writing has done for me, so that’s what i want to do for other people. other pieces are just really cathartic to write, and they can help me process my own emotions and situations and giving a character a good coping mechanism or showing them hurt but loved is a good way for me to find a good coping mechanism too, or to feel like i can be worth something too. and if that emotion comes through to others, them maybe those pieces can be cathartic to read, too

since it’s 1am and i have a bit of a headache, i’m just going to tag anyone who wants to do this! specifically mutuals; if you follow me and misc-merde follows you that means you, and i’d love to see what you have to say to all of these!