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#greatest internship moment so far
anyaeras · 10 months
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A twisted love story || W.Maximoff (Part One)
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Pairing || Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Summary || Wanda falls in love with Starks intern, who due to their past is very bright and soon becomes an avenger, growing closer with Wanda during their time together. Wanda would like to keep them close
Warnings || long ,, fluff ,, angst ,, child testing ,, memory loss ,, nightmares ,, slightly possessive Wanda ,, leading to dark!wanda
Master list
Part 2 (coming soon)
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New York was the city that made dreams come true, it was the city that never slept and it was the Big Apple, it was even home to many of the worlds greatest heroes the avengers.
Y/n was young and the very bright person they worked extremely hard to get closer to their dreams, moving to New York City wasn't easy for the young adult they left a lot of their family behind and lost a lot of support, yet after awhile, and many long, tedious hours they were able to get into a stark internship while it was a little confusing, there wasn't much information on what they were really looking for, and it honestly it seemed a little out of the ordinary. It wasn't a hard job if you think about it, now you didn't get paid but you got the experience, three days a week you attended the avengers tower from 2pm to 5pm.
They had been going to the office on this schedule for a while now, and Wanda Maximoff had it marked down in her calendar, it seemed whenever y/n was in the building, so was she.
Y/n was in the office running around with stacks of boxes, trying to get to where they needed to be as Wanda watched from a distance, leaning up against the desk, not too far from y/n's traveling path. Wanda perked up when she noticed The internal starting to stumble boxes, slowly slipping away, as they try to compose their balance, the witch was quick to hop in using her powers to hold the boxes in an upright position, red wisps floated in front of the young adults face, which allowed them to regain their balance, y/n began coming down from the shock of nearly falling, before observing how the boxes were afloat.
"Falling for me hmm?" Wanda joked as she slowly set the box's down into y/n's arms correctly, as you laughed softly at the scarlet witch's statement while feeling embarrassed for yourself, what caught you off? Guard was the scarlet witch, who is feared by so many yet in this moments, she seemed so kind. y/n saw her sweet and pleasantly warming, now Wanda, on the other hand, saw this is an opportunity.
"Hey, if you ever need some help around here, I know dealing with everyone around here can be a pain, feel free to ask for me or my assistant" Wanda stated with a soft yet very fake innocent smile her words were coated in a dimmed Sokovian accent, after the quick interaction, Wanda had left allowing y/n to continue their work, slipping into the elevator to go back to the avengers only section of the tower, yet along the way, Wanda bumped into a fiery redhead.
"Is stark's intern your new little play thing?" The Russian asked in a humorous way, almost laughing at the Sokovian, yet the scarlet witch only gave a small huff in an "as if" sort away as a reply.
"I don't want them Natasha" I want to lied even with a knowledge, Natasha, being a well trained widow, who could definitely see through the lie, but either way, the subject was dropped for the moment, well until it wasn't...
Meanwhile y/n was running around moving boxes and sorting out stuff inside some of the labs, at one point they found themselves working with some scrap parts that were laying around just for fun, yet those few minutes of free time seem to get away from them. They were pulled away from the project by the sound of the big boss man, stark.
"a little late for you to be hanging around" Tony said in the question like manner, looking down at his naked wrist, as if he had a watch on to prove his Point.
"Oh sorry I totally lost track of time, I didn't even realize I was off the clock" y/n quickly responded justifying their actions. The older man didn't seem to care too much. He came over, peering at what you had put together in your time in the honestly extremely outdated lab.
"so it seems like you've been working. That's good I don't pay bright minds for nothin" stark laughed at his own comment, y/n had thought about mentioning that they are an unpaid intern that HE had hired, but y/n just brushed it off y/n went on plugging in the small robotic looking box they had made in your now not so free time, Tony watched curiously from behind y/n, as they begin to connect the small box to a computer nearby opening up a few different software's until they found the correct one, moving over to stand off to the side, allowing the avenger behind them take a look at the device, y/n started to explain the device was a traveling AI. It could fit the needs of the carrier at any moment.Might they need a nurse or a genius war strategist, at this point if this box got a physical body, it could become its own superhero, and be a great weapon. The explanation managed to render Tony speechless.
"You had no plans or prior research building this?" He asked almost speaking to himself as he questioned getting only a negative response from the intern in front of him
"And you've never made this before?" He asked again getting the same response.
"Come with me" the broad statement from Iron Man caused y/n not to move, thinking about what he just said over in their mind, taking it an entirely different way.
"Not to my damn bed. I got a wife and pepper honestly isn't one for a threesome, well, at least I don't think?" He question himself before shaking it off.
"Anyway follow me newbie" this time y/n got up following Tony throughout the avengers tower and pushing through a set of glass doors into a very nice office.
"Furry. This is the one we're gonna keep it." Was all that Tony said to the one, and only Nick fury who gave a raised eyebrow as a reply back to the avenger. Y/n made eye contact with the man across the desk momentarily before breaking the contact looking back at Stark in pure confusion.
"Why?" the question was about you yeah, it wasn't directly for you to reply to.
"Their a genius, much brighter than banner, skilled in medical as well and war strategy I think they would be a great asset" Tony said in a matter-of-factly manner leaving y/n with a
Proud feeling in their chest.
Nick finally turned his full attention to y/n aiming a question.
"Where are you from, and do you know what you got yourself into?" Y/n didn't fully understand exactly what was asked yet they spit out a nervous reply.
"I'm from the Midwest, now living alone in the city, I wanna go back to school, oh and about the last thing I feel like I'm going to find out." Y/n replied keeping their past to themself on purpose while also trying to sound confident in their reply. They gained a small smirk from furry which the stamens "show them around the tower" was also received; and like that y/n was being pulled away into an elevator going to the locked section of the tower, the doors of the elevator opened in the center of a elegant kitchen and if you looked over to the right a rather large and gorgeous living room.
The two women who were still having a conversation at the kitchen island, both looked up moving to see who came threw the elevator doors.
"I picked the newbie, if one of you can show them around that'll be great I'm busy" Tony said quickly before wondering off into the large area, leaving you with the two women, which the dark red headed widow had chosen to also excuse herself, leaving y/n once more with Wanda Maximoff.
"Looks like you're stuck with me" the witch laughed while y/n face lost color, they didn't want wanda to think they didn't wanna be shown around by her, they thought Wanda was 'pretty cool'
Wanda prompt you to follow her through the large hallways of the tower, while all the doors looked the same y/n was sure they would find themself getting lost around here.
Wanda opened one of the many doors on the right side, moving off to the side allowing you to move inside the large suite.
"My room is right next door if you need anything and I mean anything feel free to come find me Дорогой, oh and I'm sure Tony will have your important belongings here shortly" wanda told them, before leaving y/n to settle in for a few moments.
While looking around y/n must've gotten distracted, like always losing track of time as next thing they know, their door was reviving a harsh knock, which followed by multiple agents bringing in some box's holding items clearly from y/n's now old crummy apartment, no words were exchanged as the group of agents left the box's and went on with their day.
Y/n began to take things out, placing them around the room as everything felt so fast, they were meant to just try and get a start, not become a part of this team of heroes, that's no all, they live with some of the coolest people know, like the girl who's room was only one door over...
Items now sat on selves, the bed was changed to their old bedding, it made the suite feel much more home like. Finally getting through all the box's of clothes, y/n was able to change into more comfortable clothing having no plans to leave the room, honestly they weren't to sure where to go if they did leave.
Y/n was sat on the very large bed, with their laptop pulled up trying to figure out the wifi password.
"It's 'Genius, Billionaire, Playboy, Philanthropist' the password" a witch said from the doorframe. Causing y/n to jump from sudden sound of her voice.
"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you" wanda apologized welcoming herself into their room, not like y/n really minded.
"Here let me see" wanda typed in the long narcissistic password password into y/n's laptop, causing it to go back into their Netflix showing the continue watching page which the witch didn't miss picking up on all the roma-coms they had been watching.
"You like sitcoms?" Wanda asked relating it back to herself
"Yeah they make life seem so much better" y/n explained as Wanda knew completely what they meant.
"You know, sitcoms are my favorite, I grew up with them" the witch recalled fondly of the past, before the bad came into her life.
"Actually I came here to invite you to team movie night, we have a movie and team bounding night every week, and as you are now apart of this teen we want you to join us?" Y/n agreed to come to the movie night. Standing up wearing only comfy clothes, which hugged their body so nicely causing Wanda to struggle as she was trying not to stare.
Wanda who was in a tang and grey sweat pants lead y/n back to the large living space they had saw earlier, yet this time multiple other avengers where sat on the multiple sofas in the area, Wanda sat down on a loveseat which was off to the side, yet still had a good view of the large television, using her arms to motion for y/n to come sit with her on the seat, as by this point wanda would be who they were most comfortable with, as they have shared moments and multiple conversations.
"My pick!" Peter had said, yet he'd been wanting to see a new horror movie, giving no one any heads up, just pulling up the movie and clicking play, to which y/n would soon find out, they were going to regret coming to 'team bounding'
Y/n tried to play it off like they were so strong, trying to no show they were completely terrified of the movie, while Wanda wasn't even trying to listen but y/n's thoughts were loud, as well as their body language, at any jump-scare y/n would flinch, the Scarlet witch didn't pay much mind leaning over to the other side of the shared loveseat pulling y/n into her side, providing some comfort, as well as embarrassing the young newbie, the black widow shot y/n a small smirk, soon moving to give Wanda an 'i told you so' kind of look.
The witch ignored the widow, focusing on calming y/n down, yet nothing seemed to work, she took a mental note that horror movies may not be aloud for a while at team movie night before quietly taking y/n's arm, gaining their attention before motioning for them to come with her, leaving the team to their movie, as they payed no mind to the two of them leaving.
"We could've stayed, the movie wasn't that bad" y/n said trying to act nonchalantly about it, knowing Wanda pulled them away due to their reaction to the film.
"No. Come let's go to my room" wanda left no room for argument, she was already protective over the new member, feeling a pull towards them. Well not like this attraction was new, not to Wanda at least, but it was just beginning for y/n.
Wanda opened up her rooms door, and it looked nothing like yours, much more settled in, the red accents inside the room reflected her personality much more than your bland room reflected yours, she went straight to the bed, motioning for you to join her on the other side, sitting crisscross on the bed, reaching for the remote before putting on one of her favorite sitcoms, which you both found much more enjoyable than the horror movie out in the living room.
"Sorry about movie night, I didn't mean to ruin the team bounding" y/n stated once more still feeling bad for pulling Wanda away from her team.
"Y/n it's okay, I'd much rather watch sitcoms and I enjoy watching them with you" She replied reaching to pull y/n into her side, wrapping her arms around the new team member enjoying the shenanigans of the show.
"Thank you" y/n mumbled out, slowly getting more comfortable with the women, which the acknowledgment made Wanda smile softly to herself, as she could feel y/n began to drift off.
The witch didn't move allowing y/n to rest after a very long day, it was like their life changed, and even thought the witch didn't know much about y/n she felt so attached to them.
Eventually wanda fell asleep to the show still playing and y/n still lying on her side, an arm was wrapped around them for the time being.
Wanda woke up around two in the morning, due to movement in the bed, after a moment of regaining full consciousness, she realized it was y/n who was thrashing around in the bed, clearly in distress.
"Y/n, y/n honey wake up" wanda tried softly shaking y/n trying to pull them out of their dream without causing them to panic to much, yet nothing seemed to be working, Wanda was trying not to panic herself, ended up using her powers seeing inside she was prepared to see the horror movie from that night, yet was met with much worse, Wanda was able to pull y/n from their nightmare, y/n jumped up with a jolt, clearly still in a panic.
"Y/n, y/n it's Wanda? You're at the tower. You're safe" the witch kept repeating, trying to ignore what she saw until you were calm.
"I-I'm sorry..."
"No, don't be y/n we all have bad dreams...would you like to talk about it?" Wanda kept her words in a hush tone, not wanting to be too loud at the late hour of the night, well more so early hour of the morning.
"I didn't mean to wake you up, I just get nightmares sometimes, and I know it's silly" y/n explain yet the other women just shook her head.
"I get nightmares, and so do many of the other avengers, it's not silly, it's just how your brain works when it's meant to be turned off" she explained to y/n trying to still comprehend what the dream was about.
"Y/n, i do have to ask though, do you remember what the dream was about? Because I couldn't wake you, not without my powers at least" the explanation would force y/n to recall what they saw only a few moments ago, flashbacks of their life, the truth about them, why they were so smart, why they seemed to be doing alright for themself even with such drastic changes in life.
"It was about my parents, well the people I lived with...see I was adopted at a young age as far as I'm aware, I don't know much about my past, I can't remember any of it, but i became the child of two scientists, I was their ginny pig, the test subject, I never went to a public school, the women homeschooled me, while the man watched how my brain was changing every hour of the day. It wasn't all bad, on my birthday they would always make me a cake and we would spend time like a family, but the next day it was back to the test, and all the labs, it was becoming to much, I was beginning to react poorly to their test, and one day I snapped I never learned how to fight but I did, I fought like hell to get away from that cabin up in the north, and it took a lot of time for me to get here...now here I am" y/n ranted out to Wanda, who was sat a little flabbergasted, while also she was livid, not at y/n but at the people who made their life so hard for so long...how could you do that to a kid.
"I'm sorry, please I can go that was a lot" y/n panicked now when the witch didn't give a reply, yet wanda was quick to hush them, pulling them into her arms letting them relax, and for once feel safe.
"Y/n as long as you're here, you'll be safe, This team, and me alone wouldn't let any one hurt you..ever." Wanda whispered into y/n's ear, her fingers ran through their hair, softly soothing them, prompting them back to sleep, still in the women's strong hold.
Waking up the next morning y/n was still passed out, sleeping soundly on the left side of the bed, Wanda got up to go get some coffee, making her way to the kitchen, she was met with the one and only russian red head. The black widow, with her signature smirk
"I'm pretty sure this is when I say...what is that saying? I told you so." Natasha poked fun at the witch, who clearly wanted more than just a friendship with the newbie, more than even romantics Wanda wanted y/n as hers, and hers only, she would protect y/n, and no harm would ever reach the newbie again....
"Wanda?" Y/n mumbled coming out of the witches bedroom, in the early hours of the morning
"Out in the kitchen" wanda called back, soon being met with a sleepy y/n, their hair messy, as they came over clinging to the witch, who by this point she couldn't even deny y/n to the other team members, they two of them became a thing rather quickly, the two of them had so much potential, getting out of this town, Wanda could make y/n a great spouse, they could have kids, the ideas bagan to flow in Wanda's mind, hoping she could fill y/n's head with the same thoughts.
that's not the end of this twisted love story thought? Is it?
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findingnemosworld · 13 days
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𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 - 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐬𝐳𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐳𝐥𝐚𝐢
・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐬.
(𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭)
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝.
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐩 …
𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝟐: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐥𝐳, 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲.
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This was it, the biggest moment she had ever experienced, her graduation ceremony.
Physiotherapy has been her greatest passions ever since she was a child, she had graduated school from her home country, opting to pursue a masters degree in Oxford University - and along the way she'd started working as an intern in one of the biggest football clubs known, Liverpool Football Club ... during the internship, not only was she able to implement her thesis topic, but also find love with a lovable Hungarian player.
Like her, Dominik was new to the club which was a common point that led to the pair growing closer during her time working there - eventually, a relationship was born, one that tested time as both were quite occupied with their passions yet despite that, were able to find time for one another.
Dominik was everything she could ever hope for in a man, charming, attentive, funny and ridiculously handsome.
The past ten months were a pure blessing, despite his busy schedule. Dominik would constantly call in to check on her as well as ask about her studies, he'd often sit with her whenever he wasn't busy with training and help her study, even going as far as to ask her about what her thesis topic, further assuring her just how attentive he was to her passion, the same way she did with her constantly being present during every match he played as well as helping him rehabilitate during his injury.
Each and every moment they spent together had led to this very moment now, today was a special day, it was the day she was set to recieve her degree.
The excitement had led to her waking up at around six in the morning despite the ceremony not starting for another three hours, she turns to her right to find a sleeping Dominik, his lips slightly parted, hair disheveled due to tossing and turning, the tattoos quite promiment and peeking from the bed sheets as his chest rose and fell evenly.
She didn't have the heart to wake him, therefore she gently removed the bedsheets from her body and tiptoed to the kitchen to make her-self some tea, she pours water into the kettle and turns on the stove to let it boil, she then proceeds to grab the mug that read, Future Doctor - the mug was a gift that Dominik had gotten her for her twenty first birthday which was quite adorable given that in his words, he knew that fancy gifts weren't exactly what she wanted.
Lost in thought, she barely noticed her boyfriend of nearly eleven months stride up to her from behind, he wraps his arms around her waist and lazily nuzzled his face in the curvature of her neck, "I told you I don't like to wake up alone." he whispers.
A soft smile appears across her lips, "I'm sorry baby, I am too nervous about today, I don't want to look like an idiot."
He grunts something incoherent before he said, "Baba, you won't look like an idiot! If anything, you're the opposite of an idiot."
"I almost spilt my coffee on your chest the first time we met," she reminds him with an amused expression across her face.
He chuckles, "God I wished you did, would have been an excuse to be closer to you back then."
She giggles at his remark, "I'm excited, I'm scared and nervous Domi, I mean I worked so hard for this, I don't want anything to go wrong."
Dominik reaches over to turn off the stove then swiftly turns her to face him, he cradles her face in his hands then proceeds to lean in and peck her lips before muttering, "You are going to look absolutely gorgeous taking that degree, and then I can brag about how I'm dating the most intelligent girl in the world."
His words soften her almost instantly and she proceeds to hug him, "I love you."
He grins then presses a kiss on the top of her head, "I love you too baby."
There was no denying that she had his whole heart, from the very moment he saw her in the training center until this very moment - he was and still hopelessly devoted her, yet the insecurities in the back of his could not help but rear their ugly head, she was so accomplished, so intelligent, well spoken and put together ... what was he? just a guy that became well known for pushing a ball in between his feet because his father wanted him to follow in his footsteps, sure he loved the game, granted the circumstances weren't healthy but in contrast her, he felt like ... nothing.
And boy did he loathe that emotion, it was akin to jealousy, something he had never felt in ages, not since he was a child having to see other children enjoying a normal life all the while his days consisted of training.
"Domi," she murmurs, breaking his train of thought.
"Hm?" he replied, rubbing her back.
"I gotta make my tea." she said.
"Make me one too then, please." he murmurs.
"Ok," she said then kissed his cheek.
He watched her with pure admiration as she quickly whipped up two mugs of chamomile tea, adding a hint of cardamom to help both of them relax for the big day, and as they make their way back to their bed, Dominik couldn't help but wonder if she would be better off with someone else, a doctor perhaps, or a lawyer, or someone with a normal occupation that doesn't force them to be away half the time.
He wanted to ask her, desperately wondering why she would rather stay with him than seek another man, yet he remained shut, especially when she curled up next to him after drinking her tea and quickly drifted off to sleep leaving him with only the ugly insecure thoughts swimming inside of his mind.
__
Dominik was seated with her parents who had traveled to attend the ceremony, dressed in a three piece black suit which he believed was suitable for the ceremony - he noted just how proud both of her parents were which in turn made him happy as the pair had worked so hard to provide her with this opportunity, "She was quite nervous." he remarked.
Her father chuckles, "she's always nervous,"
"Our angel is a pessimist at heart despite recieving the highest degrees, succeeding both in her studies and her extra curricular activites," her mother chimes in. "Hell, she was even nervous before she introducued us to you, she thought we wouldn't approve of you,"
Dominik smiles, recalling just how nervous she was at the propsect of him meeting her parents yet things turned out quite well, her father treated him as though he was his own and her mother doted on him, insisting that he visited whenever he could, "She definitely is ... but look at her,"
They watch in awe as her name was called out, and she gracefully walks up dressed in a beautiful dress topped off by the graduation cape and hat, she accepts her degree, flashing a smile towards her parents and Dominik, then making her way to the empty chair to sit whilst the others recieve their degrees.
"I don't know what I've done to deserve her," he murmurs, mostly to himself.
Her mother leans in and whispers, "You two are soulamtes."
Dominik turns to her then says, "Huh?"
"You think you two just met by chance, not at all," her mother smiles softly then adds, "God has put you in her path and her in yours, you two are more alike than you think."
He grows silent, contemplating if she was right yet the small voice in his head says otherwise causing him to momentarily grow frustrated at how insecure he was. "I love her," he said.
"She loves you too," her mother assures him just before saying, "Oh look, she's set to make a speech."
Dominik shifts his focus towards her as she takes the podium, with a clearly nervous look on her face, their eyes lock for a moment and he sends her an assuring smile, which seemingly worked on calming her nerves.
"Good afternoon," she begins with a soft smile, "I'm not good at speeches but I shall try to make this as short and brief as I can, I'd like to first congratulate my colleagues who worked as hard as myself to achieve their dream and make their mark as future Physiotherapists, it wasn't easy but we made it," she pauses, "I'd like to thank my professors, the department and everyone who pushed us to work hard, and be confident in our abilites, I'd also like to thank God as well as my parents who risked just about everything to give me this opportunity, and lastly, I'd like to thank my boyfriend ..."
Dominik's eyes softened as he sent her a sweet smile, tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes.
"He doesn't know that much about the inner depths of Physiotherapy and god knows I bored him night and day but he stuck with me, supporting me day and night until I got this far, so thank you." she smiled at him. "And lastly, I'd like to say, let's face life with the bravest face we got because it's not easy but it's worth it, thank you."
A thunderous roaring applause rippled through the auditorium as she made her way back to her chair, the photographer snapped a couple of photographs before the graduates were able to unite with their family and loved ones, she rushed to her parents, embracing the two of them as they congratulated her, she then turned to Dominik and said with an obvious squeal, "I made it."
"I knew you'd do it baby." Dominik embraced her before adding, "Now come on, dinner is on me."
"Nonesense, dinner is on us." her father interjects.
"No no, you two are here for two days, dinner is on me." Dominik smiles.
They dine in a beautiful Italian restaurant with a comfortable atmosphere, her parents spent the entire time conversing about the prospects she'd have now that she graduated and while he wanted nothing more than to pitch in, he found himself feeling less like her boyfriend and more like an idiot who did not understand a single thing they said.
She deserves better than you, the small voice reminds him. She's intelligent, beautiful and young, she deserves someone that can understand her, not a dumb fool like you.
Suddenly, Dominik stood up, excusing himself to head to the restroom unaware that she was rather confused by his demeanor as she had noted just how distant and lost in thought he was - she opted to wait until they were home to try and speak to him, meanwhile he was in the restroom, staring blankly at his reflection in the mirror.
What am I? just a clueless idiot who runs after a ball, he lets out a soft sigh, and she's just, ... perfect.
He hated this, this nagging sensation of jealousy coursing through his veins at this moment. Maybe I am holding her back, ... I should just let her go, she would find someone better, someone that can understand her and doesn't feel like an insecure child.
He splashes cold water on his face, then dries it off with a paper towel before stepping out and returning to their table, he sits down next to her and she leans in to whisper. "You ok love?"
"Yeah," he assures her with a smile.
She nods, albeit not convinced as she could tell just how distraught he was.
__
The pair drive back to their shared flat, and the moment they step inside - she stops him halfway before he enters the kitchen - he turns to face her, yet avoids looking her in the eye, "What is it?" he asks despite knowing that she is on to him, and had read through his façade.
"Domi, what's wrong?" she pulls him in, wrapping her arms around his torso.
"Nothing," he grumbles, instinctively wrapping his arms around her lower back. "Just my stupid brain making assumptions."
She frowns in confusion, "Assumptions about what?"
"Us." he blurts out then blushes, "I just ..."
This was difficult, far too difficult than he could imagine yet as he looked into her eyes, noting just how concerned she was for him - he realized that there was no way he could hide his emotions any longer. "I'm jealous, but I'm also insecure."
The phrasing served to both concern and confuse her as she replied with a gentle tone, "What do you mean?"
"You're a graduate with a masters degree, you completed your studies, you had a perfect life ... perfect grades, extra curricular activites and a social life, ..." he sighs then adds on, "All I had was the football pitch and my father asserting that this was the best for me, it's not that I hate football but the circumstances were toxic at best."
Her eyes soften as she reaches to run her fingers through his hair, "I had no idea."
"I didn't want to concern you, it's all stupid ideas. I just, I can't help it ..." he pouts then murmurs, "You deserve better than me."
Her eyes widen at the last phrase, "Absolutely not, if I had the chance to turn back time, I will meet you again, fall in love with you again and picture the most beautiful life with you."
He looks at her then says, "But why? I'm just an idiot who runs after a ball."
"Not to me you're not." she says then leans in to peck his lips. "You're my Domi, the one who makes me laugh with the stupidest jokes known to men, the one who listens to me ramble about the most trivial subjects and my studies, and on top of that he doesn't get bored, you're the one who goes above and beyond during date nights even though he doesn't have to, and you're the one who stole my heart the second I met him, I don't want anyone else to have my heart and I sure as hell don't want any woman to steal you, so what if you're a football player, you're still an amazing man, my man."
Her words were both soft and assertive, serving to lead him to lean in and capture her lips in the most romantic and passionate kiss he could muster, driven by his pure love and affection for her, "I love you baby."
"I love you too" she smiles.
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dekusheroacademia · 2 years
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My Hero Academia stage play information + subtitles project
Welcome to the Ultra Stage (colloquially called the MHA musicals) info post! In this post I will give a brief description of the musicals, tell you where to find them or buy them, and talk about the actors and promotional material. You will also find links to pics, videos and, of course, the subtitles. And easy weebly version of this post can be found at this link.
SUBTITLES
We are making English subtitles for all four musicals! At the moment, subs for musical 2 are out.
MUSICAL 1: ENGLISH SUBTITLES DOWNLOAD - coming soon, 80% done
MUSICAL 2: ENGLISH SUBTITLES DOWNLOAD
MUSICAL 3: ENGLISH SUBTITLES DOWNLOAD
MUSICAL 3´4: ENGLISH SUBTITLES DOWNLOAD - coming soon, 40% done
Wanna help with making subtitles? Or donate on kofi to help us commission missing dialogue to translate
VIDEOS AND GIFS (in this blog)
I also have been posting some gifs and pics from the four BNHA musical (official musicals) which are out at the moment. You can find them at the tag bnha musical. I also post comparisons of scenes between the musical and the manga, and I post snipped of subtitled videos at this tag ultra stage video.
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INFO: THE MUSICALS
There are, at the moment, four musicals, in chronological order, covering the bnha manga plot from chapter 1 till the end of Deku vs Kacchan 2. I will add their Japanese tiltes if you wanna look for them on Amazon Japan.
The first musical is called "My Hero Academia: The "Ultra" Stage" and came out in 2019. It adapts the beginning of the manga, up to the sport festival (chapter 1 to 44). This is the Japanese title: 「僕のヒーローアカデミア」The “Ultra” Stage (ジ・ウルトラ・ステージ). And the musical is about 2 hours. This is also the only musical that can be found on bilibili.
The second musical had some troubles due to covid, so, as far as I know there were two versions. The first one was interrupted by covid, but the second one run in 2021 and had some extra scenes too. The title is "My Hero Academia: The "Ultra" Stage A True Hero, Plus Ultra version" and it covers the Stain arc, the internship, the final exams and it ends with the mall scene where Deku meets Shigaraki (chapter 45 to 70). The "Plus Ultra version" is specifically added because it is the second version of the second musical. The Japanese title is 「僕のヒーローアカデミア」The “Ultra"Stage 本物の英雄ヒーローPLUS ULTRA ver.. And the musical is about 2 hours and 20 minutes.
The third musical came out in 2022 and it is called "My Hero Academia" The "Ultra" Stage Symbol of Peace" and it covers the forest training arc and Kamino (chapter 70 to 95). Title: 「僕のヒーローアカデミア」The “Ultra" Stage 平和の象徴(法人特典なし).
The fourth musical has been announced at Jump Festa 2022, the 17/12/22 and is called "My Hero Academia" The "Ultra" Stage The Greatest Hero mode (the link of the website and the cast is here). The musical run until 21st of May 2023 (from the 29th of April 2023). The dvd is out for preorder and you can find it on amazon with this title: 「僕のヒーローアカデミア」The “Ultra” Stage 最高のヒーロー. It will come out the 20th of September. The musical covers from the teachers meeting the students' parents to the aftermath of Deku vs Kacchan 2 (up till chapter 121).
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DVDS
The musicals all run live in different theaters, but luckily they were all filmed. The title I used are also the title used in the dvds. Each dvd copy comes with two discs, one with zoom in on faces and camera work, and the second one with a still camera, so you can see the whole stage. The dvds comes without subtitles, but the dialogues are very similar to the anime.
At the moment all the musicals (1, 2 and 3) can be purchased on Amazon Japan, or rented on Amazon Prime Japan (only 1 and 2).
Musical 4 can be pre-ordered.
Other options for purchases are: YesAsia and CdJapan.
For the exact titles to search (with covers, to make sure you get the right one), please check this page.
PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL
The Kacchako cooking video went quite popular, it was a promotional material for the second musical being filmed for dvd. You can find the transcript here and the subtitled video here (it is two parts, so you can find part 2 in that post). These videos were created for a special series of mini videos called Smash! Unfortunately no other Smash! was recorded or shared.
The actors also shared a lot of pictures from behind the scenes, so I will link their twitter accounts to their names. I will also try to share as much twitter pics as I can here on my blog, with the tag "musical twitter promo".
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THE ACTORS
This information comes from the dvds and the wikia. I tried to link all twitter accounts I could find, as the actors usually share pictures.
Class 1A
Shin Tamura as Izuku Midoriya (instagram)
Ryota Kobayashi as Katsuki Bakugo (instagram)
Yume Takeuchi as Ochaco Uraraka and Mt Lady (instagram)
Naoki Takeshi as Tenya Iida, from musical 2 onwards. In the first musical Hiroki Ino played Iida.
Ryo Kitamura as Shoto Todoroki
Mao Noguchi as Tsuyu Asui
Naoki Tanaka as Eijiro Kirishima
Yugo Sato as Denki Kaminari (instagram)
Shinichi Hashimoto as Yuga Aoyama
Saaya Yamasaki as Momo Yaoyorozu
Nagato Okui as Minoru Mineta
Rin Matsubara as Fumikage Tokoyami (instagram)
Akari Kawakami as Kyoka Jiro (instagram)
Shin Ikeda as Hanta Sero
Yume Nagatoshi as Mina Ashido (instagram)
Keisuke Ohkubo as Mezo Shoji
Yuta Chatani as Ojiro
Sakaue Shoma as Sato
Other students
Marino Baba as Mei Hatsume (instagram) in musical 1, while in musical 4 Mirano Takei plays Hatsume Mei.
Daisuke Matsukawa as Hitoshi Shinso
Judai Shirakashi as Inasa (and Masaru Bakugou)
Mirano Takei as Camie and Hatsume Mei (only in musical 4)
Shunto Imai as Shishikura Seiji
Haruna Morodomi as Tatami Nakagame (and Inko Midoriya)
Akiyoshi Tsujimura as Shindo Yo
Villains
Raita as Tomura Shigaraki (instagram)
Kosuke Yonhara as Gran Torino and Giran (instagram)
Bishin Kawasumi as Stain
Yuta Osumi as Dabi
Anju Inami as Himiko Toga and Thirteen
Yusaku Kawasaki as Twice
Shin Koyanagi as Muscular
Daisuke Hosomi as All For One
Tasuku Yoshioka as Mr. Compress
Tanabe Ken as Magne
Kawashima Tatsuki as Spinner
Heroes
Yusuke Seto as Eraser Head (instagram)
Hiroaki Iwanaga as All Might Muscle form (instagram)
Yuki Okamoto as Present Mic and Tiger (instagram)
Yusuke Ueda as Endeavor (instagram)
Tasuku Yoshioka as Small Might from musical 2 onwards. He also plays Mr Compress and Yokumiru Mera. In musical 1, Tsuyoshi Hayashi played Small Might.
Kosuke Yonhara as Gran Torino and Giran (instagram)
Anju Inami as Himiko Toga and Thirteen
Ami Kiuchi as Midnight, Uwabami and Pixie-Bob
Changae as Best Jeanist and Moonfish (instagram)
Ohara Mayuko as Nana Shimura and Mandalay
Fukui Shota as Tensei Iida and Naomasa Tsukauchi
Ohara Mayuko as Ms Joke
Others
Inomata Rei and Ina Seiran as Kota
Haruna Morodomi as Inko Midoriya
Ohara Mayuko as Mitsuki Bakugou
Judai Shirakashi as Masaru Bakugou
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enjoy!!
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jamscandraw · 1 year
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💥 COLLISON, 🌙 MOON, 🎵 MUSIC NOTE and ❇️ SPARKLE with Kaito!
💥 COLLISON - what emotions do they have trouble dealing with?
Any form of intense negative emotion - anger, grief, jealousy, etc. - he was quite emotionally sheltered as a kid and never really taught how to experience or express those emotions in a healthy way, so when he hits adolescence and everything gets way more intense and confusing in the emotions department, it’s all very overwhelming and he doesn’t like the way it makes him feel so he suppresses his negative emotions a lot of the time
🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?
At the moment, other than to become a pro hero one day, Kaito’s current biggest wish is to get a spot on the extremely prized internship with his big hero Gang Orca. Only students with grades in the top 20% of their class get accepted so he has to work his way to the top to get accepted, but he would never cheat or hurt anyone else’s chances of success for his own gains unlike someone else I could mention
🎵 MUSIC NOTE - what is their playlist like? their favourite artists? do you associate a particular song with them?
Kaito’s playlists would be lots of chill instrumental or acoustic stuff, and lots of lofi beats to study to. Songs I associate with him include Aquaman and Tiger Teeth (both by Walk the Moon)
❇️ SPARKLE - what is their most prized possession? what do they value?
Kaito tends to values places and people over possessions, but his most beloved thing would be his collection of shark teeth from his family. It’s a family tradition that when one of them loses a tooth it’s gifted to another family member or loved one as a symbol of protection. A close second would be his little aquarium with all his pet fish in
Send me an OC name and an emoji! ❤️
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hasan-jackson · 22 hours
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HASAN “SONNY” JACKSON
BIRTH NAME: Hasan Jackson NICKNAME: Sonny AGE: 42 years old DATE OF BIRTH: 4th of November, 1981 SPECIES: Werewolf FROM: Edinburgh, UK IN FENRIR SINCE: he was 11 years old (except for when he was studying in Edinburgh) NEIGHBOURHOOD: Grant Park OCCUPATION: Professor at Park College and General Surgeon
Threads | Muse
STATS -
SEXUALITY: bisexual RELIGION: raised Protestant GENDER/PRONOUNS: cis-man, he/him LANGUAGES: English, BSL FC: brian tyree henry
BIOGRAPHY -
Hasan carved his own path. 
That was the most important thing he ever wanted anyone to know about him. His family, his friends, school. He knew what he wanted to be, and he fought anyone who might stop him from getting there. Because at a very young age, Hasan had dreamt about saving lifes. It wasn’t some crude awakening or an experience with a friend or family member, no, Hasan simply wished to understand the human body, and he knew in there lay the answer to saving lifes. 
He spent far too much time in the Surgical museum in his home city, before his parents moved to Fenrir’s Wood of all places because his father got a job at Oxford and they wanted to be able to afford a house. Hasan instantly started boasting about his own ability, even at age elven. Still, despite how cold he could be and how he liked learning more than any other student - and also he didn’t have a favourite football team, though he did love learning about the many injuries that happened in football - Hasan had plenty of friends. Either kids who like him were gigantic nerds, or kids who thought he was cool. 
He didn’t much care for anyone’s approval, at least not for the appraisal of his fellow students, his peers however, their approval he fought hard for. Great marks eventually got him a place to study to become a surgeon in Edinburgh, and he’d dreamt of staying there for the rest of his life, if not for fate having another plan for him. 
It was two weeks before his big move that he got bitten. He was sick for two months, and missed so many introductory classes that the school suggested he enrol for the year after. He would’ve thrown a fit about it normally, if not for the realisation dawning that it wasn’t just a normal wolf that had bitten him. He was approached by the pack leader of Fenrir Pack the moment he got out of hospital, and started his training right after. His new friends and pack were very much against him still going to Edinburg to study, but Hasan carved his own path. 
He returned with a high degree ten years later, some cool scars, and a good few Werewolves in tow who joined Fenrir Pack at his introduction. He got a spot as a surgeon, having done his internships all over Scotland. As the years progressed, Hasan furthered his new dreams, he became a professor at Park College, a stone throw from his house, and he managed to get himself elected as pack leader after the one who had given him his first lessons retired. 
The mystery that hangs over Fenir’s Wood now is perhaps his greatest challenge, but he is a man of action and of knowledge, so while the other members of the council run around trying to protect their own and as many as the citizens of the city as possible, Hasan is collecting facts.  
HEADCANONS - 
Looks very stoic and intense, but can totally surprise him. He's a warm person, he just doesn't warm up easily.
Loves to talk about the human body, it has always fascinated him, and he's glad he's got to make it his job.
As a true doctor, Hasan doesn't like to be called doctor and definitely doesn't follow his own advice.
WANTED CONNECTIONS -
People who knew him when he was growing up in Fenrir's Wood.
People who he met in Scotland
Werewolves he brought along with him from Scotland
Fellow Fenrir Pack werewolves
Wolves he's taken under his wings
People who've gotten hurt and ended up at the hospital
Students
Friends
Reluctant friends
Enemies
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fenrirswood-hq · 6 months
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meet HASAN JACKSON
Hey, isn’t that HASAN JACKSON. I thought they went away for the summer? Did you hear they might be a WEREWOLF? What I do know for certain is that they’re FORTY-ONE, and they’re EDUCATED and METHODICAL. They’re originally from EDINBURG, SCOTLAND, and have been in FENRIRSWOOD for 30 YEARS living in GRANT PARK. I wonder if they still work as a PROFESSOR AT PARK COLLEGE AND GENERAL SURGEON AT FENRIR CENTRAL HOSPITAL. Best if they stay safe for now.
Hasan carved his own path. 
That was the most important thing he ever wanted anyone to know about him. His family, his friends, school. He knew what he wanted to be, and he fought anyone who might stop him from getting there. Because at a very young age, Hasan had dreamt about saving lifes. It wasn’t some crude awakening or an experience with a friend or family member, no, Hasan simply wished to understand the human body, and he knew in there lay the answer to saving lifes. 
He spent far too much time in the Surgical museum in his home city, before his parents moved to Fenrir’s Wood of all places because his father got a job at Oxford and they wanted to be able to afford a house. Hasan instantly started boasting about his own ability, even at age elven. Still, despite how cold he could be and how he liked learning more than any other student - and also he didn’t have a favourite football team, though he did love learning about the many injuries that happened in football - Hasan had plenty of friends. Either kids who like him were gigantic nerds, or kids who thought he was cool. 
He didn’t much care for anyone’s approval, at least not for the appraisal of his fellow students, his peers however, their approval he fought hard for. Great marks eventually got him a place to study to become a surgeon in Edinburgh, and he’d dreamt of staying there for the rest of his life, if not for fate having another plan for him. 
It was two weeks before his big move that he got bitten. He was sick for two months, and missed so many introductory classes that the school suggested he enrol for the year after. He would’ve thrown a fit about it normally, if not for the realisation dawning that it wasn’t just a normal wolf that had bitten him. He was approached by the pack leader of Fenrir Pack the moment he got out of hospital, and started his training right after. His new friends and pack were very much against him still going to Edinburg to study, but Hasan carved his own path. 
He returned with a high degree ten years later, some cool scars, and a good few Werewolves in tow who joined Fenrir Pack at his introduction. He got a spot as a surgeon, having done his internships all over Scotland. As the years progressed, Hasan furthered his new dreams, he became a professor at Park College, a stone throw from his house, and he managed to get himself elected as pack leader after the one who had given him his first lessons retired. 
The mystery that hangs over Fenir’s Wood now is perhaps his greatest challenge, but he is a man of action and of knowledge, so while the other members of the council run around trying to protect their own and as many as the citizens of the city as possible, Hasan is collecting facts.  
Played by Nico. Portrayed by Brain Tyree Henry.
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tshepomutsi · 10 months
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The year 2023 so far...reflecting on my academic journey
The most basic essential for living is education. It is a crucial instrument that promotes general development and growth. There have been times when my mental health has suffered as I live, and I gave myself in to 2023. However, I feel that the need to keep going and focusing on the end product is what saw me through and located me to where I am at the moment. As I sit here now in the penultimate year of my Advanced Diploma in Media Studies, I find it hard to believe all the things I have accomplished, not just academically – but personally too.
It has not been an easy year for me academically and financially, and I remain to bear the pressure that comes with most of what the year has given to me. As I come across 2023, resolutions to do good in my academia and thus far has been working for me but not as I expected to. I am now confident that this is the greatest time to reflect on my academic journey.
 Looking back over the past few months, I have accomplished a lot and made significant progress in my studies, because from the start, I didn’t think that I can overcome the odds and negative mentality that was intended to break me and stop me from studying the program that I wanted to study.
 In the first part of the year, I started weak but now I am stronger now, setting ambitious and goals for myself and taking on challenging modules. I want to strongly believe that I am doing good in my studies. 2023 has made me realize and seek for the best vision of myself, and what I want to strongly archive I am getting to find my roots. Throughout the year thus far, I have faced a few obstacles and challenges, but I never gave up. I persevered, seeking out help and support when I needed it, and pushing myself to stay motivated and focused.
One of my highlights of 2023 academic journey this year was having the opportunity to be exposed to the modules that I am currently doing and how they contribute to what I want to become in future. These modules allowed me to put my knowledge and skills to work in a real-world setting, and I gained valuable experience and insights into my field of study. Another major accomplishment this year was my acceptance into an internship program at The Central University of Technology, Free State. This internship provided you with hands-on experience and helped me develop new skills that you can apply in your future career.
Overall, the year 2023 has been a dynamic and exciting year for my academia. Challenging and difficult as it is/was, this has made me realize how sharp and narrow I am, it has made me realize that regardless of the cumbersome and insurmountable odds, above and beyond, I have seen a star and light in me for the 2023 year. The year has made its possibilities true to me, it has pulled me back like an arrow that I am, in order to shoot and push me to the universe.
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marlasomething · 2 years
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Cocoa Collabs Extra 2: Louder than the Weather (How It Started vs. How It Is Going)
Hi! Marla here ready to do another “challenge”. This time: @cocoa-collabs 2022 with superminifics! The idea is to do both the extra props and the daily ones, making at least one a day being an Amelia Caller. Not this one, though, this one is a story with some of this messed-up yet so dear to me characters! This podcast is a great source of inspiration for me and also a comfort, safe place and I am so glad to be participating on it… So, just please, forgive my quick tipper and non-native speaker mistakes and, leave a message (comment, kudos, random feedback) after the fic.
Allons-y! Marla
Also on AO3!
Both were young; relatively speaking, at least.
One was working, the other prolonging the time before he started working; because, somehow, he knew, the moment he got back he was going into the internship he had always dreamed of and then…then; that was it.
He had no clue of how he knew it (and he was certain the moment he set foot on his bizarre desert town again, he was forgetting the whole impending doom now towering over him), but he did. His entire path would be forever determined; and he had not even grown a beard yet!
He wanted to find out who he was before he became who he was supposed to be…though, in the end, there were barely no differences among both personas.
 The other one….the other one was supposed to be much older, but something inside of him still resonated with being in his twenties and, in that precise particular moment, he was going by one of his multiple crisis of incurable boredom.
He loved his work (greatest job on Earth, if you asked him) but, sometimes, there was a dry season and all he could do was stare at the nothingness and start to think about what was he really doing in this world, if collecting stories was enough…if changing lives (for the right price) was enough…
 …or, in other words, both people were in the perfect moment of their lives to randomly run into each other, in the middle of Paris.
None had any problems with the secrecy of the other (one pretending to have no proper human name and the other speaking of a clearly fake hometown every time a personal question came across his way), and they had fun.
All kinds of fun; from the most candid to the one that would have made the one known as Le Marquis de Sade blush and run to hide forever while hugging his knees keeping certain distance from his body as never before.
However, as it always happen when you are part of completely independent, different narratives, both got separated, slowly but steadily growing apart…up to the point both of them, finally, realised they had to go on their own.
 At least, until someone came across, in need of a new residence; and the previously none-existent Night Vale was perfect for the Amelia Project’s endeavour.
 Erika had actually been called Erika before deciding to fake her own Death so, when Amelia heard her case, it was clear that the city she had to make an emergency stop the previous day was just perfect for her and, with the aid of the angels (who asked for a ridiculous small amount of money in exchange), it would be far easier than the usual cases.
The one thing, she found herself having to send The Interviewer himself to set her properly, since nobody else could and the change from human to celestial being could be… rather traumatising.
She just hoped he didn’t get too distracted with all the bizarreness of the city.
 Of course, The Interviewer got distracted within the first ten minutes in the desert town…who reminded him to the stories a young pale person of male gender (he wasn’t certain the world man could be used, since it was inherently human and there was something inherently non-human about Cecil Palmer).
Could he have been telling the truth…?
He got over-exited over this fact, since it meant there were more extraordinarily weird towns all over the World? Oh, goody, that was NEWS!
His train of thought was broken by a deep voice right behind him.
“So, you haven’t changed a bit, uh?”
“Neither have you” except for the glasses, and your clothes are even more extravagant.
Cecil shrugged and leaned ever so slightly over the wall behind him, without actually touching it.
“I couldn’t know. I don’t look at mirrors.”
“Something come to mind, yes…Everything about Night Vale…was it all true?”
“Everything about Night Vale was” there was pain in his voice, and the other man would have guesses even if he hadn’t had his experience interviewing people that it had to do with his relationship with his family. “I guess you actually have a name.”
“Indeed I do, though I am afraid you are not to know it. Not even Alvina knows it” all his purple eyes shone.
“Oh! You have your own (less-perfect, of course) Carlos! Neat! Want to keep up over…cocoa, wasn’t it? If we are lucky, The Faceless Old Woman Who Secretly Lives In My House (and Everyone Else’s) would have left some made and, if we are even luckier it won’t be poisoned.”
At this, The Interviewer’s smile grew.
“Fascinating! Lead the way. By the way, I am a huge fan of your show, I always know when to listen to it, can hear it anyways.”
 The Voice of Night Vale and The Interviewer weren’t the same people they were once; they had loved each other, and it hadn’t work out, but they still care for each other and, even if just as friends, they matched.
Different from before, different from after, always a great pair.
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lindsaykutac · 2 years
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Machu Picchu and Internship... and more
(warning, this is a long post!)
Machu Picchu... my halfway point! And one of the 7 Wonders. I was worried that I would feel miserable on it, as the Monday before my departure I went to the clinic to discover I had a bacterial infection (again) and a parasite. Luckily, the drugs were well in effect by the time I was ready to go!
We were picked up by the collectivo around 3:45 a.m. on Saturday morning. After a two hour drive, we arrived at the train station! The train was very enjoyable, because that's just not something you get to do in the United States! And the view was beautiful. We got off the train earlier than everyone else to begin our hike along a part of the Inca Trail!
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The hike was relatively intense, but far lower than Cusco, around 7,000 feet instead of 11. My lungs were very happy, and I kept up well, but the thought, "I never would have been able to do this if I hadn't run my half-marathon," came across my mind a minimum of five times.
The hike took about five hours, and there were points where the climb was so steep, I used both my hands and legs for a safer ascent! We reached the famous Sun Gate, where we got to rest before heading towards Machu Picchu itself.
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The first day we went to one part of Machu before returning the next day for the actual tour of the site. I was surprised by how little I was told about the history of the ruins. There really isn't that much knowledge about it, because the Spanish never discovered it, and it was actually never completed, because the Quechuans (Incas) who inhabited it fled to help resist the Spanish.
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I was absolutely exhausted at the end of this trip, but I am glad I got to experience the "high jungle" and see the incredible architecture of Machu Picchu!
As I mentioned, this trip was my halfway point. That means I completed my four weeks of full-time Spanish and was ready to begin my four week internship at a local school. Before I left for Machu, I received the amazing news that I would be placed at an inclusive school, so I would be able to serve students with disabilities over the next month! When I arrived on Monday, I was told I would be providing one-on-one support for a fourth grade student with autism. We can call him Diego.
This school is the only one of its kind in Cusco; a frontrunner in the name of inclusive education. Only in 2018 was a law formally adopted to state that education should include students with disabilities in Peru. However, being here has made me realize... the United States has many problems, but it is absolutely the premier place for special education - the best in the entire world. The legislation we have protecting rights of students with disabilities and their families is unparalleled.
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My time here (in the middle of week two) has been very challenging, because there are many issues with the education of the student I am working with, even in an inclusive school. However, it has also been amazing to observe and learn about another country's schooling system, and this school specifically. I was eventually able to ask my mentor teacher what Diego needs the most help with, and while I personally would have started with the habit of him abruptly leaving the classroom every 10 minutes (or more frequently), my teacher told me his area of greatest need is handwriting. And while I am here to contribute what I know as well, I am primarily here to serve. So, tomorrow we will begin occupational therapy exercises to strengthen and develop his pincer-grip endurance and eventually move up into sustained muscle engagement with fluid motion in my final week.
I also went to Rainbow Mountain this past week, where I experienced altitude sickness more strongly than I did when I first arrived. It was beautiful, but I would not do it again; it was just too high. Here you can see me smiling, but the moments before and after I was sitting on a rock, trying to breath, wanting to throw up, and being given agua florida to create a 'smelling salt' effect.
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When I came back down, I thought that my symptoms were a result of my altitude sickness. On Monday, however, when I still was not feeling well enough to attend my project Tuesday, I went to the clinic again, and my giardia was still alive and well.
Being sick so often has been very frustrating and has resulted in lots of tears, days in bed, pain, and the need to constantly whisper to myself, "I trust in Your goodness," because I have been sick about every two weeks since I have arrived, and have spent close to 500 USD in medical care. I am praying that this is the last time I have to worry about taking medicine or getting blood and other samples taken. My host mom was extremely surprised to hear that in the United States, I have zero stomach problems whatsoever, because she has never seen one of her guests get sick like this. It has been a very humbling experience. Here's me in with my beanie and fuzzy-sock gloves to keep me warm during the thick of it.
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I no longer feel as though I am abroad. I feel simply as though I live here. I miss home very much, and at the end of this week, I will only have two full weeks left before I fly home. I do not wish this time to go by quickly, but I am excited to come home. I miss the ability to drink tap water. I miss fresh vegetables, fruits without peels (primarily berries), driving, and indoor temperature control. But most of all, I miss you :) My family and friends. But I know when I land in Austin, I will ache with the memories of reaching over the table to fill up my evening tea cup with boiled water while laughing with my housemates. I will remember drinking chicha morada at my favorite creperie-cafe in San Blas, the perfectly ripe avocados, and the luxury of being able to walk everywhere. I will dearly miss my "mama de Cusco" and practicing my Spanish every day.
I think there is room for about one more post before I return home <3 Until then, much love,
Lindsay :)
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frenchly-anxious · 3 years
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To all the people who have been told at some point to "grow up, because adulthood is nothing like that", let me tell you that today, I witnessed an impressive number of grown-ass people, all doing grown-ass jobs which sometimes imply life or death situations, who have family, responsabilities, mortgages and whatever, all getting excited and rushing to the cafeteria because "oh my god, they're serving french fries today!" One of them even did a celebratory dance right in front of me and to be honest, as probably the youngest person in the building at that time, it was oddly liberating. Don't listen to those people who tell you to grow up: no one really does and we're all pretty happy about it
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waitimcomingtoo · 3 years
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In Case You Don’t Live Forever
~chapter nine rewritten~
Pairing: Peter Parker x Venom!Reader
Synopsis: you are Peters greatest love and Spider-Man’s greatest enemy
Series Masterlist
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You were quiet in the cab ride home. Peter was talking a mile a minute and all you gave him were small smiles and fake laughs every now and then so he wouldn’t suspect anything was wrong. He was too happy about how well the evening had gone to notice.
“Do you want to come back to my apartment? You can sleep over if you want.” Peter asked with a shy smile when you got to your floor. You didn’t want to lie in bed all night with Peter when you were literally lying to Peter, so you faked a yawn and stretched a little.
“Not tonight, babe. I’m a little tired.” You lied. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay Pete?”
Peter looked a little disappointed but you knew he understood.
“Okay, darling. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He went to kiss your lips but you turned so he only got your cheek. You pretended not to see the confusion and hurt in Peters eyes at your actions. You went into your apartment and went out the window immediately, needing to blow off some steam as Venom.
It didn’t take long to find crime, or for crime to find you. You soon heard the shrill cries of a panicked woman.
“Someone help me! He’s got my son!” She screamed. You immediately morphed into Venom and followed the sound of her voice. You climbed to the top of a tall building and scanned the city. Your eyes landed on a man running away with a small child struggling in his grasp. You jumped from the building and ran after the man at full speed. You caught up to him easily and blocked his path. You shot a web at the child and yanked him out of the mans grasp. At that moment, Spider-Man jumped down from the sky and landed between you and the man.
“Hold this.” You demanded and handed the child to Spider-Man. Spider-Man took the child and looked at you, the eyes on his mask squinting in confusion.
“What are you gonna do?” He asked as he bounced the child on his hip.
“Eat.” Venom said simply before bolting after the kidnapper who had took off running.
“Find the mom and get him to safety.” Venom called back to Spider-Man.
When you tracked the man down, you snatched the man up and suspended him in the air. Venom quickly swallowed him whole and fled the scene.
You found the mother just in time to see Spider-Man reuniting her with her child.
“Here you go ma’am.” He said kindly. The mother took her child and smiled at him gratefully.
“Thank you Spider-Man. I don’t know how you do it. You’re a hero.” The mom praised. Spider-Man laughed softly.
“I do my best. Stay safe.” Spider-Man waved kindly. The mother thanked him again and left with her son. Spider-Man turned to walk away as well but you stopped him.
“What the hell was that?” You roared. “You just took all the credit for saving that kid. You didn’t even do anything. We saved the kid, we killed the man, you were just the delivery boy. Why didn’t you tell the mom that we helped?” Spider-Man looked as taken aback as a man in a mask could look. Granted, your Y/n was showing. You were speaking in your Venom voice but it was really you talking, and Spider-Man seemed to notice the difference.
“Oh. I’m-I’m sorry. It’s just, you’re kinda scary and the kid was already super freaked out. I didn’t want to make it worse by him seeing you.” Spider-Man answered. He didn’t mean to offend you but his words hurt.
“We’re not scary. We saved that boy.” You said in defense.
“Yeah but, you’re honestly terrifying man.” Spider man laughed awkwardly. “Even I’m scared. A little kid wouldn’t want to see a hideous monster right after nearly being kidnapped. No offense.”
It almost seemed like he was trying to compliment you. Venom was much more hurt by his words than you were. At the end of the day, you could look like a regular person while Venom was stuck looking like a “hideous monster.”
“Don’t talk about her like that.” You shouted in your own voice. Spider-Man looked around for who the new voice came from. 
“Did that come from you?” He asked.
“It came from us.” You said, back to the low Venom growl.
“See it’s things like that that make you terrifying.” Spiderman continued. “That kid would’ve wet his pants if he saw you. I’m a nice, friendly face that people can trust. Really, no offense dude, but no one wants to see your face.”
You took a menacing step towards him and roared. He backed up instantly and held up his arms in defense.
“Woah woah woah please don’t put your eggs in me!” He shrieked. “I’m just stating the facts. You will never be a hero, if that what’s you’re going for. New York isn’t going to feel safe with a monster like you on the streets. If I told that mom that you were the one to save her kid, she would’ve ran straight to the cops. It might be better if you just went back to the planet you came from.”
He was trying something new. He knew he couldn’t physically beat Venom in a fight, so he tried using his words instead. His girlfriend was so good with words and he wanted to make her proud. All he knew was, he needed Venom out of the city.
“You’re wrong. We’re not a monster.” Venom growled. You just stayed silent.
“Fine. Monster. Alien. Whatever you want to be called, it doesn’t matter.” Spiderman waved his hand. “Because all anyone will call you is dangerous, scary, and a threat. You’re better off leaving earth and never coming back.”
“We’re not leaving.” Venom snarled.
“What’s with the we? Who else is in there?” Spider-Man asked. He reached out to touch you and you threw him against a building.
“Don’t touch us. Our host is in here.” Venom growled. Spider-Man tilted his head.
“Host? So you’re like a parasite?” He asked innocently. Innocent or not, it was the wrong question to ask. Venom picked Spider-Man up by his neck again and dangled him in the air. Spider-Man kicked his legs and tried to break free but couldn’t.
“First, you take credit for our work, then you insult us, and now you call us a parasite? We are not a parasite. We are Venom. And you are dead.” Venom sneered. Venom was too angry to listen to what Mr. Stark said about not eating Spider-Man. He had pushed you too far.
Venom ripped Spider-Mans mask off, wanting to see his identity before you killed him. To your devastating surprise, your terrified boyfriends face stared back at you. He had a bloody nose from being thrown against the wall and his face was red from lack of oxygen. He whispered pleas for mercy as his eyes begged you to let him go. You gasped and immediately dropped Peter onto the ground, looking around frantically for what to do next. He coughed and sputtered for a while while he rubbed his aching neck.
When he looked up, Venom was handing him his mask back with an apologetic look on your big white eyes. Peter shakily took the mask and nodded in thanks. You nodded back and ran as fast as you could back to your apartment. You climbed into your window, transformed back into yourself, and went to throw up in the bathroom.
Peter was Spider-Man. Peter was Spider-Man. And you were Venom. How could it be? How could fate be so cruel? And yet, it made perfect sense. He fit the description. College student from New York who traveled to Washington D.C. at the time of the elevator incident. It explained everything, from the first aid kit on Peters desk, to the constant phone calls, to Ned asking if you knew about Peter, and of course, Mr. Stark. The Stark Internship was being Spider-Man. You should’ve known. The signs were all there. But a part of you just wanted something good for once. Something that the rest of the world couldn’t touch. That something had been Peter. And now, you had to give him up.
You ignored Peters calls and texts for the next six days. You gave him a lame excuse about needed to stay focused on your Cletus Kasady article and so you couldn’t be on your phone. You had a week to tell him you were Venom, according to Mr. Stark. That week was almost up and you had spent it successfully avoiding Peter. You stayed in your apartment as often as you could and only left out the window when you had to go somewhere. Peters texts increasingly got harder and harder to ignore. You didn’t want to ignore his sweet good morning and goodnight texts or science puns, but you couldn’t face him. You just wanted to shake him and ask him why he kept something so big a secret from you. But alas, you said nothing.
On the sixth day of avoiding Peter, you knew you had to go out. You didn’t want to use the front door but you desperately needed to check your mail and it was pouring rain outside. You peered out your peephole and saw no signs of Peter. You quickly opened your door and didn’t even make it two steps before you heard the sound of Peters door opening. Running would be a bad option, right? You slowly turned around and gave Peter and awkward smile. He didn’t smile back.
“You’re avoiding me.” He stated. His voice wasn’t it’s usually happy tone. He sounded hurt and confused. You knew he had every reason to be, but you were hurt and confused too.
“I’m not. I told you I had to write my article.” You lied through your teeth. He didn’t buy it.
“Bullshit.” He scoffed. “I know you haven’t had your final interview with him. It’s in two days, right? How could you be finishing your article when you’re not even done with the interviews?”
You gulped. He saw right through your lies.
“Are you mad at me?” His tone changed as his voice weakened. “Did I do something wrong?”
Your heart broke. You wanted to hug him and tell him he didn’t do anything wrong, but you couldn’t. He’d been lying to you as long as you knew him. You couldn’t just forgive him and pretend you didn’t know he was Spider-Man.
“No.” You said quietly, suddenly taking extreme interest in your shoes. “No, Petey, I’m not mad.”
“Then why won’t you talk to me?” His voice cracked and your heart cracked with it. You looked down and shook your head, wishing you had an answer to give him. You looked around before stepping forward and pulling him into a tearful kiss. You let in longer in case it was the last kiss you ever shared with him He kissed you back but you felt his hesitation. His guard was up and you knew why.
“I’m sorry.” You breathed once you pulled away. “I can’t explain. I have to go, Peter. I’m sorry.”
You hated yourself for saying it, he deserved so much better. Peter looked like he was about to cry, confusion clouding his brown eyes. You turned away from him, unable to watch his heart breaking in front of you.
“Is this it?” His voice was quiet. “Are we over?”
“I think we are.” You said without turning around.
“Why the hell did you say that?” You thought. It’s not what you meant. You looked at Peter over your shoulder in time to see a tear run down his cheek. You went to turn back around but Peter grabbed your hand suddenly and pulled you towards the stairs. You didn’t resist and let him tug you, feeling like you owed him as much. You find it slightly ironic know that you knew why he was so strong.
Peter pulled you all the way to the roof, back to the very spot you once referred to as “ours.” He let go of your hand and pointed to the ledge, looking at you with weary eyes.
“Tell me it was all fake. Tell me it was all in my head and we weren’t happy together on that ledge. Tell me I made it all up and you were never as into me as I was into you. Tell me our first kiss, our first time, our first conversation meant nothing to you. Tell me you hate me and feel nothing for me.” He shouted before quieting down. “Because unless you tell me that, I won’t let you end this without giving me a reason. I won’t let you just walk away. Please, don’t end what we have just because you’re scared. You don’t have to be afraid. Not of me.”
“I know.” You whispered. “But you should be afraid of me. In fact, you already are.”
“What?” Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “Afraid—what?”
“I’m not afraid of you, Peter. Or of this. Of us. That’s not it.” You told him truthfully. “I’m afraid of what will happen when you find out I’m not who you think I am. I’m far worse.”
“What are you talking about? I do know you.” He insisted.
“You don’t.” You shook your head as tears fell from your eyes. “You do but you don’t.”
“Then who are you?”
“I’m a monster. We-“ you were cut off by the sounds of people screaming from the street below. Peter looked at you before running to the edge to peer down.
“Something’s attacking the city.” He called back to you. “It looks like a red version of Venom.”
“A red symbiote?” ,you thought, “how can that be?”
Peter turned and looked at you, not wanting to pull out his Spider-Man suit in front of you. Of course, he didn’t know that you were already well aware of his secret.
With the city under attack, your fight with Peter was going to wait. You wiped the tears from your face and walked past Peter, your shoulders brushing as you moved past him. You stared over the edge at the commotion, knowing you were the only one who could give the symbiote a fair fight. Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked over your shoulder at Peter, giving him a silent apology.
“I love you, Peter.” You said suddenly, never breaking eye contact. “I love you.”
With that, you jumped off the roof and turned into Venom in mid air. You landed on the ground below and roared at the red symbiote. You knew you had to focus on the fight, but your mind was goign a million miles an hour.
It was the first time you’d ever said those words to Peter, despite feeling them from the moment you met. He was the second boy you ever said those words to, but the first boy where you actually meant it.
You shook your head to free yourself from your thoughts and let out another roar.
“Venom!” The red symbiote smiled. “So glad you could make it! Where’s your friend huh? Is she too scared to come out and say hello to Carnage?”
“Carnage?” You wondered. Since when was there another symbiote on earth and more importantly, how did it know who you were?
You wasted no time in launching yourself at Carnage and attacking. You two wrestled for dominance for a while until Carnage ultimately won. He began to pull Venom off your body and you felt your face became uncovered. Carnage raised his razor sharp fingernails and prepared to slit your throat with his long nails.
“Heads up!” Spider-Man came swinging down and kicked Carnage off of you before he could harm you. You quickly bonded back with Venom and stood up, just in time to see Carnage throwing Peter across the street. You ran to him and helped him up.
“Shoot your web at the same time we do, okay?” You said and held out your wrist. Peter did the same and you both shot a web at the fast approaching Carnage. The combination of your webs was enough to capture Carnage and send him crashing to the floor. He soon broke out of his webbing and began running towards you again.
“Karen! Web grenade!” Peter yelled. He threw a web ball at Carnage and it blew up in the red symbiotes face. While he was distracted, you pulled the symbiote from its host by the ankles. Enough skin of the host was showing for you to take a bite. Carnage yelled in pain and turned to his closest attacker, which happened to be Peter. He picked Peter up and repeatedly slammed him into the pavement. To stop this, you tackled Carnage and spit acid spit in his eyes. Carnage howled and began to run away.
“I’ll be back, Venom.” He snarled. “And when I return, there’s gonna be Carnage.”
You ignored his threat and quickly ran to your unconscious boyfriend, kneeling down beside him. After checking to see that no one was around, you took off his mask and accessed his injuries. His face was beaten pretty badly and his pulse was weak. You transformed back into yourself and took off your hoodie and shirt, leaving you in a sports bra and leggings. You ran your hands over Peters body until you found a way to take the suit off, it was by pressing the spider on the chest. You tore up your shirt and pressed it to the large wound on Peters chest to stop the bleeding. You suddenly got an idea and pressed a hand to his chest, letting Venom go inside him and move around. Venoms healing abilities made the cuts on Peters chest disappear, but he was still knocked out. You pulled your hand away and slipped the hoodie around his body before picking him up with ease. He was adorably light. You quickly ran into the apartment building and went to his room before anyone could see you.
Peter came to about a half hour later just as you were finishing up healing his cuts. You had managed to bathe him and get him into a fresh pair of comfy clothes while his body healed.
Peter slowly woke up and noticed you were straddling his lap. After nearly a week of no contact with you, it felt nice. He missed the way your skin felt on his. He almost jumped out of his seat when he saw his Spider-Man suit hanging up in the closet where you could easily see it.
“Relax. I already know you’re Spider-Man.” You cooed as you put some Neosporin on his busted eyebrow. Peter relaxed under you for a moment as he took in his situation.
“And you’re not mad?” He asked quietly. You were surprisingly calm considering the circumstances.
“I’m not mad.” You smiled softly at him. “Venom is a little offended that you called her ugly though.”
“You’re Venom.” Peter said as he remembered seeing you jump off the building and transforming into the alien before his eyes. It made sense. The “We” was in reference to you. And you had saved his life the first night you met when Venom wanted to eat him. He just couldn’t believe his girlfriend was his arch nemesis this whole time.
“I am. Well, we are. Venom, say hi.” You turned to your left and watched as Venom shyly came out in her snake-like form to greet
“Hi.” Venom hissed.
“Hey.” Peter said back with a tiny bit a fear. He looked at you for reassurance and you nodded.
“You’re no panty dropper yourself, by the way.” Venom grumbled.
“Hey! Be nice or go back inside.” You scolded. Venom chose the later and went back inside.
“Are you mad?” You asked timidly, making him think about it.
“Not mad. Just confused.” He decided. “Is this why you were avoiding me? Because you saw my identity the night we ate dinner with Mr. Stark?”
“Yeah.” You admitted with guilt. “He told me I had a week to tell you. Today’s only day six so he’s gonna be thrilled.”
“He knows?” Peters eyes widened in surprise.
“Yes.” You confessed. “But he knew I was Venom before he knew I was your girlfriend.”
“That’s great news. Then I don’t have to explain anything to him.” Peter looked on the bright side. “Plus, he loves you. Speaking of love…”
Peter put his hand on the back of your neck and pulled you into a passionate, tear filled kiss. You wrapped your hand around his wrist and kissed him deeply, one last time. You slowly pulled apart and you bit your quivering lip.
“We have to break up.” You whispered before pulling your hands away from him.
“What? Why?” Peter asked in shock.
“Look at us Peter. Look what’s become of us.” Your voice wavered. “How can we ever be together when you’re Spider-Man and I’m Venom? We didn’t tell each other these huge things about our lives and we hurt each other because of it. Tell me, do you honestly think I’d ever lay a hand on you?”
“No.” Peter answered. He knew you didn’t have a malicious bone in your body.
“Exactly. I wouldn’t. And yet, I beat you to the point where you couldn’t even stand.” You began to cry from shame. “I should be protecting you, not hurting you.”
“But you didn’t know it was me.” Peter pointed out.
“Exactly Peter! I didn’t know it was you because you didn’t tell me!” You exclaimed. “Do you not trust me?”
“Of course I trust you. But in my defense, I’ve never told anyone I was Spider-Man. May, Ned, Mr. Stark, they all found out on their own. You were the first person I was actually going to tell willingly. I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.” He sighed, and you believed him. “And what about you? You didn’t tell me you were Venom.” .
“It’s different, Peter.” You shook your head. “Venom isn’t a friendly neighborhood superhero. People see you and the run to you for help. But Peter, I’m what they’re running from. You said it yourself. I’m a hideous monster. I had a reason to hide who I was.”
Peter looked hurt at his own words. He cringed at the memory of insulting you so many times. He couldn’t imagine how it felt to hear that from your own boyfriend.
“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I said that about Venom, not you. I never would’ve said it if I had known.” Peter said softly, while reaching up to stroke your cheek. You wanted nothing more than to lean into his touch and forget the whole thing.
“That’s the point.” You moved his hand away. “We both would’ve done things differently if we had known. But we didn’t. And that’s why we need to breakup. Before we hurt each other any more.”
“Y/n, please.” Peter’s lips began to tremble. You couldn’t even look at him, not when you knew how much you were hurting him. You knew you’d take one took at his tear filled eyes and run right back into his arms. You had to be strong. You got up off his lap and headed towards the door before you lost your nerve.
“I’m sorry, Peter.” You said with your back to him. “We’re just on different paths. I’m so sorry.”
“Well what if I give up being Spider-Man?” Peter bartered. You looked at him over your shoulder in bewilderment.
“You’d give that up for me?”
“Anything for you.” He said confidently.
“I can’t ask you to do that. And what about Mr. Stark? You’re just gonna give up your mentor to be with me?” You asked him, hoping to knock some sense into him.
“Nothing means anything if I don’t have you.” Peter shot back. He was making it so difficult. You couldn’t help but to roll your eyes at him for how he was acting.
“You’re not throwing your life away for me.” You shook your head sternly. “I won’t allow it.”
“Well what if you give up Venom?” He suggested.
Venom jumped out and growled at Peter. He stumbled back and you held Venom back like a dog on a leash.
“She would never choose you over us, Spider-Man.” Venom snarled. “We’ve been with Y/n much longer than you have. We’ve dried her tears. We’ve kept her safe. What have you done? Y/n and I are inseparable by choice. I’m inside her. She’s mine.”
“Yea, well, I’ve been inside her too.” Peter shot back with faltering confidence. Your eyes widened at the two of them.
“Both of you, stop it.” You commanded. “This argument is over. I’m sorry, Peter. I’ll never be sorry enough. But I have to go.”
“Where are you going?” He panicked as you went for the door again.
“Home.” you answered, avoiding his gaze. 
“This is your home.” He protested. “Here, with me.”
“Not anymore.” You finally looked at him. “I’m going back to San Francisco. I booked the flight while you were knocked out and it leaves in the morning. I can’t be here anymore, Peter. I can’t see you everyday and not want to be with you.”
“Then be with me.” Peter practically yelled.
“We can’t be together. I knew it from the start.” You wiped your face when you remembered your breakdown in your car that one day.
“Y/n, please.” Peter gently took your arm, making you look at him. “Don’t go. I need you. You never even gave me a chance to say it back.”
In the midst of all the chaos and drama, you’d forgotten that you told Peter you loved him. A part of you was glad you finally got to say it, but the bigger part of you ached knowing you’d never hear it back.
“Don’t say it.” You put a half over his mouth for a moment. “Please, just, don’t say it. It’ll be too painful for the both of us. Just let me go. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. You and I not being together will never be okay.” Peter cried, leaving his sweet brown eyes a miserable red.
“Peter…” you breathed, hardly able to take it.
“Please don’t leave me. Everyone else has left me. And you’ve never been like everyone else.” Peter gave one last attempt to make you stay. You looked at him in his entirety. You took him all in. His wavy hair, his doe eyes, his slightly crooked nose and his eyebrow that stood all the way up. All the things you first fell in love with that day you knocked on his door to give him his mail. That seemed that a million years back but it was really only a few months. Your heart broke at the sight of Peter, as beautiful as ever, standing before with a broken heart. And even worse, you were the one that broke it.
“Stay.” His voice was barely above a whisper but he could see you beginning to weaken. He took his opportunity to beg to reconsider. A little gleam of hope bubbled in Peters chest. You stood up straighter, cleared your throat, and tore your eyes away from your ex-boyfriend.
“Peter Parker, I will love you until my lungs are empty. But I cannot stay.” You said firmly. Just like that, his hope was gone. Before he could say anything else, you ran out his bedroom door, through his kitchen, and out the front door. You locked your door behind you and climbed into bed, crying at the loss of your teenage love. You knew Peter could hear every tear that fell with his heightened hearing, so you whispered heartfelt apologies and hoped he’d find a way to forgive you.
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jjkpls · 4 years
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set your world alight (m)
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genre : fluff, smut, tiny lil bit of angst
pairing : jeon jungkook x reader (f)
word count : 24k (eye-)
warnings/content : mentions of bruises, mature language, long haired jaykay, awkwardness & cutesy overload, clumsy frustrating idiot(s), bratty reader, explicit sexual content (fingering, handjob, protected penetrative sex), HARRYPOTTER!AU (i cant believe i forgot to precise that in the teasers), jeon as charlie weasley, pretty much.
Jeon Jungkook is a mystery. Master of dragons. Long dark locks hiding a face most have never seen. Skin covered in scars. A brave, unpenetrable, curious being that you don’t know much about for, the very few times you’ve seen him in your life, you didn’t dare talk to him. Of course, you’d have the fatest crush on him.
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“If we add roses instead of eucalyptus, wouldn't it turn into a love potion?”
You could have predicted it. If you were to have spent your evening scribbling the course that this morning, with the introducing of a new potion to your year 6 class, would take, solely based on intuition and experience, you would have gotten it right. Down to who's asking the question. 
“No, it won’t.”
“Are you sure?”
Are you? After having spent your whole schooling career in Hogwarts, having studied the art of potion-making for five years filled with internships in the four corners of this Earth, in the greatest House of Potions there are, are you sure?
You could say all that. You could even tell to this annoying Gryffindor to shut the hell up because everyone, and you first, can’t stand to hear her voice anymore, interrupting constantly every lesson either with pointless questions or with obnoxious jabber.
But you don’t. Obviously, you don’t. 
“For now, let’s just focus on learning what the actual recipe is. We’ll worry about interchanging ingredients later.”
Which is almost a lie. You won’t ever do that with them. You have your tight program, with a limited amount of recipes, that you’re supposed to go through with them. And creating new potions, or adapting already existing one to discover new effects are not on the plan. Not with Mrs Umbridge watching closely over every Hogwarts teachers' shoulders. 
If they ever still find themselves obsessed with their dating life and enlarged pores once they'll be done with school, they will worry, on their very own, about creating the magic juices and ointments they need -given their lack of attention, investment and overall talent, you do sincerely hope they drop it because the results might lead to catastrophes but that's beside the point. 
Miss Gryffindor sighs loudly. Turning slightly on her chair to roll her eyes to her friends, who snicker along, they’re whispering Merlin knows what about you and you’re just left there, trying to find your way back to the lesson without losing too much of your composure. 
It doesn’t take you so much effort because unfortunately you are used to this. This class of Gryffindor is terrible. In your couple of years of teaching, you’ve never fallen upon a class filled with so many disinterested, awfully rude teenagers. Naively, when you just walked out of Hogwarts yourself almost ten years ago, when you were wondering with a certain dreadful desperation, what path to head for, you had finally chosen the teaching one, believing that by the time you’ll become a teacher, you’ll be old enough and teenagers would stop being scary by then, you might even grow a little fond of them, embodiment of a something long time gone, of nostalgia. 
You were wrong. At twenty-six, you still feel like a barely done with teenagehood human, hardly an adult yet. The weapons you thought you’d gather along the way didn’t appear in your robe’s pockets as you thought they would. 
Instead, you only have one, effective on an immediate use, but pretty useless on the long run: a monk’s patience. 
You can ignore them. When they’re being so aggravating, you consider sometimes taking a hundred points away from their house -but you don’t because you’ll have to justify to the very biased Head of Gryffindor and fucking Umbridge-, you can ignore them. It’s the most effective way to react as it doesn’t feed them much, they just get annoyed with your unresponsiveness and decide to contain their disruption between themselves. The thing is, the steam has to blow some way, somehow. It’s fine when you can wake up early and spend an hour or so meditating, to gather all of your monk's potential, or if you ever have a Draught of Peace laying around, that can help too. 
These days, it’s just harder to meditate, to try and keep your mind light, unbothered and calmly content.
So much harder that by the end of the class, only fifteen minutes left, you snap and end up taking off ten points from Gryffindors. 
There’s a lot of whining, of strident eruptions of indignation, however, you’re smart enough to do it the moment you’re dismissing your class and they have to leave, sulking and hating you with a passion, for their next lesson. 
“What have you done?” It’s Taehyung asking. He has a little alarmed look shading his abnormally handsome face, but a tiny little tremble of the corner of his mouth gives him away. 
“Ten points.” You state with a bored raised of your eyebrows. What a bunch of babies. 
“You suck. They’re going to hate me too, now.”
Which is not true. Immature profiles like them would tend to hate a teacher simply by association -it is to say that Taehyung is well known to be always stuck to your shoes, you grew up together anyway- but they would never Taehyung. He’s too handsome, has a voice way too sultry, too much charisma for anyone to hate him, especially his students. They can't stand his lessons though. He’s the worst option for a History of Magic teacher. He is passionate about his studies, really really passionate. Therefore his classes, in summarise, turn into him ranting non-stop, jumping from the main point to tiny insignificant streams made of pointless anecdotes that leave his students lost and confused, holes in their parchments, hands burning from their poor attempt at trying to take notes. His classes are Hell, made of boredom and confounding. The only upside being that he’s very nice to look at. He’s like an ancient mage stuck inside an elf body. 
“Do you know how many times this year I’ve had to tell them that ‘no, this potion that has nothing to do with a love potion can’t be turned into one’? Why do I have to deal with their hormones all the time, seriously?”
“You mean, on top of yours?” It freezes you on the spot You could have heard that coming, with the big old ton-heavy boots. You don’t bother looking up from your papers you are reorganising. It’s pointless because you already know what you’d see. The smart ass’s shit-eating grin, singularly square at the edges, with the mischievous squinted eyes and subjective dance of the eyebrows. 
“Shut up.”
“I can’t. I know you love talking about him since you don’t talk to him.”
The shame is burning the back of your neck. It’s climbing up your cheeks, taking over your ears in the process. If there’s one person who does wonders at not-making-you-feel-like-an-adult, it’s Kim Taehyung. Because of course he saw you grow up, and of course, he’s noticed that the timid, coward of a little Ravenclaw you used to be, hasn’t changed one bit.
“You’re so mean.”
“Am not too.” He giggles as he leaps from the front table he had been sitting on to your desk, where he takes a seat, not caring about your quill holder that he knocks down. “You’re never going to try?” 
“I don’t know, Tae.”
“He doesn’t look mean. A bit gruff but I guess that’s what living like a wild creature surrounded by the wildest creatures makes you look like.” 
You hum non-committally. You have come to the same conclusion already. But you hate the idea that you could be right because it gives you one less reason to not dare approach him. “He must be nice.”
“He must?” You cackle a bit. He doesn’t even sound so sure of this statement. Taehyung smiles along, shrugging with a tilt of his head. 
“Well, I don’t know. But you have to talk to him. Soon he’ll be portkeying back to his Transylvania-“
“Romania.”
“-you won’t see him ever again. And also, seriously, it’s been like, what, three months since he’s back?”
“Actually, it’s been barely a month.” The idiot is pretending, with a grandiloquent theatrical performance, that he doesn’t believe you, that somehow you’re trying to deceive him. And it’s ridiculous because no matter how dramatic he always aims to be, no matter how long indeed this whole pinning over the pretty guy without having the courage to act on your feelings has been lasting, it still has not been three months. It’s been three weeks and four days, not that you're counting. 
He arrived on a rainy Friday morning, you remember it well because the wet weather agitated the frogs an awful lot and you ended up spending your ten minutes of break between two classes, on all fours, crawling along the hallways of Hogwarts to try and retrieve three escapees. 
A real joy. 
Especially when he appeared at the end of the hallway. Soaked to the bones but not seemingly caring, as opposed to Mr Filch who seemed even angrier than he usually does. You barely recognised him, from so far, looking up from the ground, with the hood of his heavy coat low above his eyes, nothing peculiar in his appearance that would give him away, not a word uttered that could have helped. Until he turned the corner of the hallway, and the emblem of this foreign school of wizardry appeared. With the purple embroidery contouring the white seagull, it just clicked. You remembered the rumours spreading wildly, excitedly around the castle, that despite the very vindicative Mrs Umbridge's opinion, dragons would be introduced this year to the course of Care for the Magical Creatures and real dragons, seen by their master, would be flying to you and inhabit the grounds of Hogwarts for this semester.
And of course, it would be him. With his impressive resume, or that unauthorised biography written about him by that one stingy journalist singing his lauds that you could read anywhere -there was even a version, presented as fiction, that’s been published in the muggle world- and also, his first and last visit to Hogwarts, two years ago, for the Triwizard Tournament when he proved his talent and bravery in front of all by forcefully regaining control over a Horntail that was just about to chew a few students’ heads off after having eluded his chains -and conveniently, it's also the same time when you fell head over heels for the stranger. 
It was ridiculous because you never talked to the guy. But two years later, just his silhouette and the bouncing of his heavy head of curls you have to come to the shameful acknowledgement that your heart hasn’t gotten over the crush. 
It’s ridiculous. 
It precisely why you shouldn’t have talked about it to anyone. It’s just too hard to keep anything from Kim Taehyung though. Even if your life would have been so much easier if you’d only have to listen to your own nagging about this and not his. 
“You’re going to end up as a crazy old spinster if you keep acting like that.”
“And you’re going to be late for your class if you keep on bothering me.”
“I don’t have a class.” Taehyung stares, dubiously. Now that you don’t have to face head-on your shame, attention slightly steered away from your useless self, you can stare back, glare even, as you challenge him with a raised eyebrow. 
“You do.”
You relish in the sickly white suddenly brushing all over his face. He curses under his breath, grabbing his briefcase with one of his gigantic hands, before he’s flying out of your classroom. 
Quite frankly, you’re not sure if he does have a class at the moment. You do know for a fact that he doesn’t know either because strangely enough, for a teacher whose whole subject depends on memory and a good one at that, he’s never been able to memorise his planning. 
An easy escape you’ve come up with. 
Everyone needs those. 
Especially whoever’s having their ears talked off by the crazy old howl, Umbridge, down the corridor. You can hear her from your room, even with the door almost shut close. Her whole monologue is hard to decipher. You do hear that it has something to do with “her disapproval” and someone else's “irresponsibility” and “pure lunacy”.
By curiosity, you lean your head through the thin entrance your door is offering, picking discreetly to see who the victim is. 
It's the guy. Jeon Jungkook. Standing with his feet pointing away from Umbridge, hands tucked deep in the pockets of a thick winter vest, you can’t see half of his face because of his hair, as always sitting low down his forehead, but you can tell from the thin line of his mouth, his tensed shoulders and something else, maybe his aura, so loudly screeching annoyance, that he's not having a good time. 
It’s him. And for some reason, for the first time ever, you recall words Taehyung has said to you, loud and clear and pressing and inspiring. You don’t want to become a “crazy old spinster”. Therefore you decide to become a crazy something else you don’t bother to identify right this second.
“Oh, Mrs Umbridge!”
“Miss ___, as you can see, I am already-“
“Oh!” The loud gasp, hand clasping on your gaping mouth, wide eyes completing the look. You can’t find the courage to turn to him to reinforce -in case it wasn’t clear enough- that you just, now that she mentioned it, realise the man was here.
Mrs Umbridge has this quality to her. You find her so awfully ridiculous that you turn yourself in a clown, subtly mocking her -though you don’t think she fathoms it since you’ve always acted this way around her- each time you share any kind of conversation.
It can work and you can go along with your usual antics only if you forget the obnoxiously troubling presence of the dragon master.
“I am so deeply embarrassed, I didn’t realise. I’m not wearing my glasses, I’m an incorrigible mole without them.”
“Is that so?” From above the frame of her pink glasses, her beady eyes scrutinize. “You should wear them on your nose then, Miss ___. Now, if you will-“
“I’m sorry, I needed- It’s very important.” You cut her off with such speed and enthusiasm, you know she can't shut you off. “After discussing with my students about the program, I thought about something. Maybe I could introduce a new-“ “Miss ___!” She screeches, the triggering words -”introduce” and “new”- having hit perfectly right. “The program, as you owe to know, has been carefully crafted by the great Minister for Magic and doesn’t need for an airheaded little teacher like you to add any changes to it.”
“Oh yes, of course, how could I forget?”
“It is bad enough as it is that this foolish Hagrid has been able to convince my confreres of bringing a useless study on the most dangerous creatures there is-“ She pointedly glare from the corner of her eyes to the man who remains silent and immobile. His hands haven’t moved from the depth of his pockets, you can’t see his eyes even up close, because the curtain of dark curls hiding them is even thicker than it looked like from the other end of the hallway. He doesn’t seem particularly bothered. You wonder if he’s even listening. Barely swinging on his long legs, waiting for his presence to be dismissed it seems.
“Dragons are quite interesting creatures. I suppose that’s why they were added to the program. The Ministry for Magic must have thought so too since they voted...”
She gnarls at that. She tries to be discreet, conceals a bit of her spite but there’s no doubt in your mind that her mouth's just filled up with a distasteful repellent aftertaste.
Since the main goal was to distract her from him and free him from her claws, you start again with the suggestions for a revised scholar program. Her cheeks grow pinker than her jacket, her eyes start reflecting a fire alike the ones from Hell, her usually perfectly well-combed hair releases a few angry frizzes. She’s beyond herself and without letting you finish your little act, she’s going over all the things that are so wrong about you, about Hogwarts teachers in general, about young people and their disrespectful tendency to want to add their little spice to every tea.
You take the nagging like a champ. Because you’re used to it and to be perfectly fair, you’ve mastered a certain state of meditation whenever she’s coming your way with some complaining.
None of her words successfully reach you to stick around.
She holds strong for a good, fat fifteen minutes. At some point, you even worry that this time, her pit of nonsensical arguments won’t ever show a bottom. Until it does.
She looks all dishevelled from her heated argument. The hair worsened, with now drops of perspiration shining on her forehead. The mean beady eyes are dull, exhausted from the fight as she contemplates the void between you and the man. With a last dismissive wave of her hand, she leaves, stumbling on top of her lacquered Fuschia heels.
How can someone work themselves up so badly with so little provocation -and no further response too?
It leaves you alone with the dragon master and only now, even though you had plenty of time to take in this present, you realise how inconvenient for your coward self the predicament is. You are meant to talk to him now, aren’t you? Maybe the same question raises in his mind however he certainly doesn’t reach the same conclusion. Deeming it unnecessary, he turns his back to you and heads down the hall without much of a look spared to you. Maybe he did check, through or maybe under the impenetrable curtain of hair, for the identity of the idiot that thought he needed help to escape the annoying old owl but you wouldn’t know.
Watching in pure despair, your heart prickling uncomfortably in your bosom, you wonder if you somehow upset him. He did look irked from what you could tell. Anyone else, anyone less grumpy, anyone feeling anything but discomfort or discontent would have said something, wouldn’t they?
That’s what you explain to Kim Taehyung. Emphasising on the fact that you did try to approach the guy. You did. You created the situation, you faced him fully, you did miss the moment when you were probably supposed to say something to him but he left, too soon, and clearly is not interested in getting to know you, and whatever, you’re fine with that you just want your friend to note and remember for later reference that you did try this time.
Taehyung who’s never keen on trusting your words, no matter the fact that you’ve never lied to him -or maybe just a few times so he would leave you alone, but nothing major really- decides that you are wrong. That somehow you misinterpreted the whole thing and surely you need to hop back on the horse and try, again, maybe this time more vindictively.
It takes quite a couple of days for him to convince you. You’re not sure how. It might be from exhaustion, it might come from those three too many butterbeers you drank even though you didn’t remember ordering, back when you were gloomily celebrating your never-ending celibacy in Jjang Jjang -the magical bar held by your friend, Min Yoongi, in the far end of Hogsmead.
You promise that if an opportunity appears to be showing the very tip of its nose, if the universe is kind -and delusional- enough to gift you another chance, then you would try.
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It’s funny how the laws of attraction work. Or rather, probably more accurately, it’s funny how Taehyung can be so shameless and volunteer when he has his mind set on something. He has no problem manipulating people and situations as if the universe is his and he decides whatever happens to the little pawns inhabiting it.
A week later, when he, the dragon master, is the curious apparition manifesting itself in front of you when you open the door to let your class free, it doesn’t fall into place right away.
It’s a strange coincidence. Maybe he messed up and meant to find another classroom, any other classroom but yours. He doesn’t budge when he sees you, doesn’t seem startled by your presence. He only takes a step to the side once he realises that a wave of hurried teenagers is about to swarm him in their way out.
“Miss, are we still going to study this potion next time or will we move to something more interesting?” It’s that same Gryffindor. The same as usual. She’s just made of attitudes, eye rolls, hand on the hip and all.
“Once you’ll be able to make it without cooking a hole in your cauldron, we’ll be starting with a new one.”
You’re snarkier than usual, there’s no denying that. It’s your fifth class of the day, everyone seems to have signed an agreement on messing with your patience and he’s here, hearing and seeing an umpteenth attempt to humiliate you from this kid and you’re not having it right now, not today. She grows red on the cheeks, eyebrows frowning dangerously low, they might fall from her face when she barks, “I told you the hole was already there!”
“I understand. Next time, I’ll lend you my old cauldron so there won’t be any issue, alright?”
The angry wands she owns for eyes shoot you a good dozen of curses and she departs, with her friends, as angry as ever.
There’s a heavy silence, setting around you both, engulfing you. The wood of the walls, dark and cold, make it old the more uncomfortable until you can not take it anymore. You’re about to mumble something, maybe point out the end of the hall and suggest he tries there, to find whatever or whoever he is looking for. He beats you to it. Having reached the very limit of handling this silence at the same time as you do.
“Good morning.” He starts, clearing his throat. A husky, quiet yet somehow soft voice that he doesn’t seem to have used quite often. “Here’s the stuff for your potions.”
He holds out a strong hand to you, all veiny and sparkled with tiny bruises, a dark bag made of linen held in his fist. If he can see you, he can undoubtedly take in your confusion. You have no idea what “the stuff” is. If it’s a badly expressed thought. If he meant to say, “some stuff” for your potions. Because you’ve never asked for anything from anyone for your potions -even though, the thought crossed your mind that he, with his magical pets, must have some fantastic ingredients for your searches. You don’t know if it just comes from him. If he thought you may need it and generously prepared this for you -you doubt that one highly. The other reason, way more evident, quite obnoxiously obvious actually, that doesn’t reach your brain which is only working at a quarter of its habitual capacity given his standing here, and his smelling like woods and smoky and something subtler, you can’t pinpoint but feel addicted to as soon as it reaches your nostrils, is that someone -Taehyung- must have put him up for it. He must have gone behind your back, mumble some basic potion ingredients knowledge he owns to him and asked him to bring it to you.
“I put my Norvegian Ridgeback's scales in a separate bag because they’re very sharp -and poisonous too- so be careful when you open it.” He’s done talking, he clears his throat again, this time you’re pretty sure it’s out of discomfort as your gaping silently like a dumb fish must not be the easiest response to receive. A little inviting shake of his fist brings you to your senses, and you reach forward to grab the present. Your arm drops down from the surprising weight of the thing, fortunately, as if he expected it, he catches you before you topple over, a hand on your shoulder and the other encasing yours holding the bag, squeezing around your own as he lifts some of the weight up.
“Sorry, I didn’t expect it to be this heavy.” because you carried it like it was filled with dragons feathers instead -you mean to add.
“It’s fine.” He simply mumbles. You add your free hand to cup the underside of the thing, pressing the whole to your bosom and he lets go there, letting you step inside your room to find a place on a shelf to put it away. You probably take a second to long, your back facing him, as you stand staring at your new possession. It’s the heat remaining on the back of your hand that troubles you. As if not only have his pets decorated the top of his skin with scratches and bruises, they’ve sighed enough fire in his palms for them to forever feel this warm. And he touched you so naturally so. Pressing his large hand around yours that seemed so tiny in comparison. Probably without even acknowledging it while you are shook to your core.
This added to your confusion born from his surprise apparition, are the reasons why, as I said, your brain doesn’t reach its full capacity. Still, the idea that Taehyung is behind it all, that it can’t solely come from this man here, just won’t do in your idiotic head.
You’re enamoured, even more than before, just by a touch and by the gentleness his words hold under the tougher surface. And you decide, that if you turn around and he’s still standing there you’ll ask him out.
You do so, spiralling in slow motion, filled with apprehension. He’s here. His hands back inside the pockets of his jacket, the shadow of a sparkle coming from his eyes, under the heavy protection he’s wearing in front of them.
“Jeon Jungkook?”
He’s startled at the call of his name, the top of his mop of hair bouncing slightly and you just find it adorable. Maybe he didn’t expect you to know his name, he must not even know yours. Of course, he could not have expected that you had spent way too long, two years ago, back when he came to Hogwarts for the first time and you had heard his name amid a conversation, trying it out for yourself. Not to wear it out but repeating his name to yourself, appreciating the way the syllabus formed, how they felt so well chosen for each other’s, for him, and the feeling, light heading, that it gave you to pronounce it.
“Would you like to have a drink with me? On Fridays, I like to go to my friend's bar in Hogsmead and I was wondering, maybe you’d like to come?”
More clearing of the throat. It’s stalling the delivery of his answer, you hate it and almost jump to your cooking station to sort out a quick remedy for it. Your heart is beating so furiously, you might pass out and he’s just taking his sweet time to answer. You feel the awkwardness. You don’t see it. You can’t see anything, the bottom of his face not telling any secrets on his feelings. You must look terrifying, red anywhere it’s possible for you to blush, sweating and fidgety like you’re on a Girding Potion bad trip. And he doesn’t show anything. You’d rip the hair out of his eyes if only you could. 
There’s only one telling sign that manifests in the form of his hand, slipping out of his pocket to reach for the back of his neck where it scratches for a bit. 
It’s no. It must be a “no, I’m absolutely not interested and this moment is very awkward”. 
“I have my dragons to exercise. Sorry.” 
“Oh. It’s ok.” It is not. 
You hope, with all your might, that he doesn’t notice how upset you are. Through your prickling eyes, through the trembling pout you try to hide behind a casual smile.
It is terribly not ok but fortunately, he doesn’t stick around. That’s probably the thing you’re the most thankful for at this moment, his laconic tendencies. Anyone else may have tried to say something else to make you feel better, to make you feel like the rejection isn't worth throwing you off one of Hogwarts high tour. Instead, he just quits, swiftly. Leaving you alone to compose yourself back enough to handle your very last class of the day. You manage to feel fine, sort of numbed out for long enough until you don’t have to pretend anymore and you can let all the emotions out. 
Bent over on the wooden tabletop of Yoongi’s bar, you’re crying out your whole soul, face laid in a pool of your own tears, a gentle hand petting awkwardly the top of your head. 
“I hate you Taehyung!” It hardly comes out, half mumbled, half coughed out. The hand on your hair still in the air for a second so he must have got the jest of it until it resumes to its previous activity. 
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d reject you.” He sighs deeply. “I didn’t even think you’d ask him out!” 
“Yeah, what’s up with that?” You rise from the depth of your despair, hidden in the centre of your crossed arms. Yoongi looks extremely distraught. Your face looks awful, you know. But seeing him this shaken upsets you even more. You feel mad and vengeful and you’d like to flood his shitty bar with your tears to teach him a lesson -you’re not sure which, maybe: don’t look so disgusted when your friends look indeed disgusting, that’s mean- but the realisation downs on you that you cried so much you don’t have any tears left. Just the rashness around your eyes and nose, no snot left because Yoongi had maternally cleaned it for you, tiny pathetic sniffling around nothing but heartbreak now. 
“He sent him to me!” You bark, punching Taehyung in the shoulder, not caring the least that half of his drink gets spilt everywhere. 
“You didn’t have to just ask him out! You could have just, I don’t know (he pretends to think deeply, the tip of his fingers tapping lightly his chin), talk to him! Like a normal person that’s never spoken to him would have done.”
You gasp, eyes burning with fire. “Yoongi, he called me a freak!”
“When have I ever-“
“Normal people, my ass!” You continue, sort of having a lone conversation parallel to theirs. “What do you know about normal people, you fucking Grindylow.” You swallow down your fourth butterbeer, one furious finger indicating Yoongi that you need another one. Taehyung is just rolling his eyes, not taking offence of the nonsensical insult. “I hate you so much, Merlin, how am I supposed to face him again?”
“You do like everyone else’s does. Just start hating him until you don’t care anymore.”
“People do that?” Yoongi asks curiously. He’s slid you a new pint, filled to the brim. 
“I know I do.” You slap the back of his arm there, without giving him any explanation, just because you’re sure he’s bullshitting you -the guy surely never has been rejected. 
“Doesn’t matter. How could I ever hate him anyway?” A lone survivor tear falls from your lashes into the calm, quiet amber lake topping your glass. It doesn’t hit you there that there’s no foam. Yoongi watches you carefully, one of his hand is patting your forearm. 
“Is he really that great?” Taehyung just shrugs. He’s such a dimwit. You nod, heart growing big with sadness before it breathes it out, turning into a tiny, squeezed on itself pained creature. You leave the conversation then. Simply trying to rest with your hurting bosom. It needs nurturing and a benevolent yet firm healing hand to tell it to rest for a bit, and stop overreacting. 
[“What's he like?” Yoongi asks directly to Taehyung as he can see, clearly, that you’re not here anymore, for now.
“He’s... uh...” Taehyung starts with very flimsy conviction. “He’s into dragons.” More shrugging.]
Honestly, you might be exaggerating. You do not know much about him. Most of what you believe to know, assumed by what little you do know about him. You believe he is nice and sensible, from the way he treats his animals and the way they treat him. 
[“Oh. Holy Dumbledore!”
“Stop saying that! I told you it’s fucking disrespectful.”]
You’ve seen how much respect and trust lay between them. It’s blatant. And to create this kind of relationship with some of the fiercest creatures in the magical world, he must be something else, something exceptional. 
[“It’s him. It’s fucking him!”]
And you read about him, a lot, the two books he wrote solely about his creatures. They don’t directly tell much about him but indirectly, they hint his humility and humbleness. It’s not like that stupid Gilderoy Lockhart and his autobiographies on magical creatures. And there are the numerous articles that were written about him and his exploits and alleged character.
[“You’re lying.”
“I’m not!”
Sharp short nails are jabbing annoyingly in the skin of your forearm. It’s Taehyung, of course, he never stops bugging you. It’s his second passion after the soporific subject he’s decided to teach. You close your eyes, frowning a bit because he won’t stop, trying to annihilate him from your existence, to annihilate yourself from it too.]
Simple, humble, smart and strong. Passionate, sensible and a beautiful set of thick dark locks you want to slip your fingers through as the cherry on top. 
“It’s apple juice!” You screech in disgust, pushing your fake butterbeer far away from you. The hocus-pocus, if it irritates you, at least brings you back to earth, and back to the noisy bar. Min Yoongi mouths something about you having drunk enough but his attention is elsewhere, along with Taehyung's. 
“Oh, Merlin's beard.”
Of course, he would be there. He’s been back to Hogwarts for over a month now, you’ve never seen him around here, but of course, the day he rejects you, he has to come to your retreat, and witness the mess he's made of you. What kind of sick joke from the stars is that?
“Holy shit. Isn’t he a bit much for you?”
You know exactly what the barman means. It makes you blush slightly under the tipsy flushing already adorning your cheeks. 
If Jeon Jungkook may or may not be made of all the qualities you’ve named for him -with or without reasons-, he has some very visible, very obnoxious other qualities to him. Qualities that you’re not proud of pining over because it makes you feel shallow and superficial. The expression on Yoongi's face makes it feel better though. Justified. As if, well, here they are, you can’t deny it. And since you like his imaginary personality, you might as well like the body imaginarily hosting it. 
Jeon Jungkook is tall as a tree and as strong as one. It’s hard to tell, from here, with the layers of clothes he’s wearing on his back to protect himself from the cold, to what extent he fills them but it’s obvious he’s broad, wide. He walks with strong determined steps, with his fists tight to his sides, as tight as his jaw, square, sharp. 
He’s big. Both in appearance and aura and you can understand how Yoongi wonders if he’s not “a bit much” for you. 
“Don’t call him over!” You whisper-yell, digging your nails in the tender skin of Taehyung’s forearm. He whines, curses and tries to let himself free while telling you that of course, he’s not that dumb, he won’t. He doesn’t need to, anyway, because the guy, after seemingly exploring with his gaze the bar, sets his aim on your table, slowly starting to make his way towards you. 
“He’s coming.” Taehyung mumbles, bewildered. 
You are too. Could it be you misunderstood earlier when he said he couldn’t come because he’d be “exercising his dragons”? It can’t possibly be true. You don’t even know what the heck is up with this excuse. Because it can’t have been anything more than an excuse. Since when do dragons need to be exercised and by a wizard at that?
And now he is here. 
Literally, he’s standing right in front of your table, a hand reaching for the back of the empty chair, next to yours, but stops mid-track and backs away to his side. 
“Hi. Do you mind if I sit here ?”
You can feel, physically, the two heavy heads of your friends, turning slowly on their necks towards you, like an idiotic audience, not wanting to miss one beat of the drama playing for them. 
There’s a little snappy answer that rises to the back of your throat. Something inspired by what Taehyung said earlier, about hating him. You almost tell him aloud that he can do whatever he wants, that you don’t own this fucking chair.
Jeon Jungkook is still raspy but soft voice. With his bruised hand with the fingers red from the cold, not assertive and confident enough to dare grab the chair yet and you can’t do much but nod your head, swiftly sliding your own chair to the side to draw a little distance between you. 
It takes forever for the initial tension to drop a little bit. You can’t say anything, Taehyung the chatterbox can’t either, Jungkook probably feels too awkward by your behaviours to find a casual way to start the conversation. It’s Yoongi who realises the successful start. By doing what he does best, serving your new guest the best butterbeer there is in Hogsmead (Yoongi would say that it’s the best in the world, both magical and muggle, but given he hasn’t stepped two feet outside of this village for the past two decades, you wouldn’t give him that).
“My name’s Jungkook, by the way.” He starts quietly, in the direction of Yoongi. The latter nods and smiles a bit too eagerly. He tries to be natural, you can tell. And fail miserably, you must add. 
“I’m Min Yoongi. Welcome to Jjang Jjang!” Taehyung cringes visibly. Yoongi leans further, towards yours and Jungkooks side of the table, wanting to ignore at best the unhelpful clown beside him. “You must already know...” With a vague hand gesture, he points Taehyung and you. It makes you want to die, the idea that he knows your name, he knows you. You’re unsure what’s going on. Why he’s here, where this will lead. But it would all feel infinitely better if you knew that somehow, he didn’t know anything about you. It’s hard to remember people without their name. It’s the first thing you learn about someone, really, like a tag they’re wearing on their foreheads and when recalling about them, ever, consciously or not, the name comes always. He knows yours so he won't forget you.
It takes all of you a short eternity to warm up to each other. The bar is still noisy, with its occasional rough burst of laughter from the tough-looking wizards, maybe missionaries, the high giggles of a group of Hogwarts 7th year students hidden in a corner. You’re all nurturing your drinks, even you with your stupid apple juice and the unease is even louder, the silence deafening in the middle of the concert of voices and shatters of glasses. 
Until Taehyung says something weird, “So you like dragons, uh?” You don't understand why he persists on making it sound weird, like he's romantically interested in them. 
You hit him under the table, a good kick to the kneecap but it’s clear to everyone that his yelp comes from you. That makes Jungkook laughs. 
He pretty much giggles, sounding like a boy, head tilted down forward with his locks sadly hiding his smile. 
“Yeah, you could say that.” He finally answers, clearing his throat, words coming out sweet and sheepish-like, as if he’s embarrassed from having been caught laughing.
“Oh, that explains this.” Yoongi says, pointing at his skin and the numerous bruises orning it. You’ve never hit Min Yoongi because 1) he’s older than you, 2) he’s a tiny little thing that you’re scared to hurt but you are this close, the width of a hair away, from throwing your foot up again and hit him in the junk. For a second, Jungkook seems awkward. Staring himself at his hands, one sliding over the other, the tip of his thumb grazing with insistence on a deep scar. Until he raises his head again, you assume to let his eyes go over your faces, studying them silently and something he sees there, maybe innocent benevolence -even if Yoongi's comment was lowkey inappropriate, he didn’t mean any ill- and something else, childish excitement probably suffice to relax him. Letting his hands be, one wrap around his pint, the other flat on the tabletop, tip of his fingers drumming quietly every now and then, out in the open for anyone who'd like to to see. 
“They tend to be a bit playful.” He says this with a sly smile raising the corner of his mouth. Something ridiculously sexy that makes you choke on your fake beer and back away from him even more. You shouldn’t raise an arm to plant your elbow into the table, as a sort of shield between you two, because it’s rude and lame, but you do it anyway. Because it’s all a lot. 
He's a lot.
Yoongi, probably, knows you better than you could ever imagine. Seeing right through you, added to the statement he raised earlier -and maybe he was right, maybe he's a whole lot, and a whole lot too much for you-, he reconsiders forbidding you from consuming any more alcohol. Kindly, he manifests a glass of sparkling juice, right in front of you. It's a light peach colour, from the first sniff of the aroma, you can tell it won't knock you unconscious any time soon. It's more sugar than alcohol but at least, it succeeds to soothe the harsh edges of your nerves. Because your nerves are on the verge of a fucking spontaneous combustion.
"Hey! Why does she get another one?" Since earlier, Taehyung, too, has been switched to a strictly non-alcoholic beverages diet. He's not happy about it but you understand easily Yoongi's train of thought. You need to relax so you deserve a little something -especially given the fact that Jeon Jungkook's appearance had you almost entirely sobered up-, while Taehyung's stupid mouth is way too loose and needs to be fed something soft and safe.
"Because he likes me and he hates you." You mutter, not daring to look up from your glass by fear of coming across your neighbour's attention. Your comment is well received though. You allow yourself to joke like that because everyone, Taehyung included, knows that Kim Taehyung is everyone's favourite. No matter the competition. No one can hate him, even when he's boring as hell, even when he's too loud, too nosy, dumb or annoying. He knows it as well as you do and each time you throw one of these snarky taunts, a glint of amusement sparkles his almond eyes and he loves to act all hurt and offended. 
He turns all gasps and bombastic hand movements, claiming unfairness, misery. You start nagging back at him, adding more about how dumb he sounds and stupid he looks, while he counteracts with more dramatic appalled cries, as Yoongi just shrinks onto himself, shaking his head in disconcertment -even though, he's too used to your antics to be any surprised nor confused. 
You're so caught up in your childish bickerings that slowly, only you two, and the amusement you're trying to contain in your stomach, matter and exist. Jeon Jungkook disappearing entirely. It has your voice turn louder, mimicking Taehyung's, your insults getting bolder, your face raises as you squint your eyes menacingly at your friend.
It's once Taehyung grabs the wand from his pocket and aims it at you, threatening to turn you into a pile of ghoul's shit if you won't shut up, that he's reminded to you.
The giggles, like earlier. Boyish and rusty, uncommon, that can only be his, ring and bless your right ear. It has you shut up instantly. Startled, you stare at him, only for a soft smile to grow on your lips, fond as you are to see him laugh like that, because of you. 
You must look stupid as your eyes jump to Taehyung, silently begging him to acknowledge the wonder taking place just next to you, too giddy, too excited, too blushy to be part of it. He just grins back at you, nods his head even though you're not exactly sure at what, one of his elbows poking Yoongi's side.
"How long have you two been friends ?" He asks once he's managed to calm down his fit with a bite on his lower lip. Your heart is running a marathon and you're not sure for how long it'll keep holding up, you might need to focus all of your energy on the course, on not breaking a leg or pass out in the middle of the run, but you refuse, because he's talked to you again, because your best friends are accessorily here to help out, ease a bit of the burden of having to face the terrifying idea of being rejected (again), of failing at being good enough, somehow, to a guy you don't know much but like a lot.
Therefore you answer, aiming a joking dark glare at Taehyung because it helps to look at him, "Too long." Jungkook sniggers at the answer as Taehyung slips his ugly tongue out to you.
Somehow the tension diffuses itself. As if now that all of you had placed a word in the conversation, played somehow a role in it, it feels better, the ice has been melted and you can all, finally, relax.
Without even realising, your elbow slips from the tabletop, you're still wary, still very much aware of him sitting so close to you but you're fine with it.
As the drinks, more or less loaded, flow, Jungkook's cheeks fill up with mountains upon mountains of the fried wonders Jjang Jjang's beloved house-elf, Seokjin, has to offer, the discussion runs smoothly, tongues untied and excited.
It starts with Taehyung telling a very inaccurate version of your first meeting and blooming of this decades-old friendship (you add now and then, when the exaggerations and blatant lies get too much, little modifications to the tale that have Jungkook snigger and nod his head discreetly to you in secret confidence). It continues with Jungkook, pressured by a very adamant audience (which you are not part of, even if you are probably the most interested in the topic, in any topic that would have him speak a bit more, you don't want to bother him with your curiosity which Taehyung and Yoongi do not seem the least disturbed about) telling about the couple of last years he'd spent all around the world, in the most secluded corners of Earth, where only dangerous creatures like his beloved pets live and where only the foolhardiest or most suicidal wizards dare to adventure. As you expected, he's quite humble about it. He doesn't insist on details that make your heads spin in bewilderment, shrugging his shoulders lightly when you're the one whisper-yelling that "but you could've died?!". After a lot of cooing, from all angles of the table, tiny whispers repeating some of his words like a strange echo as you all try to handle the admiration -and intoxication-, he starts feeling himself, a tiny, discreet but visible smile, slyly redrawing the corner of his mouth. He shrugs a little less, nods his head firmly a little more, voice louder and more confident, shaping in the full form it's able to take.
He sounds lovely when he doesn't care anymore. When he feels unrestrained, comfortable and easy-going. He laughs a lot, you notice. It colours almost every single one of yours and your friends' comments, and maybe the fact that you're all a bit dumbed by shock and interest and starstruck and tipsiness makes it so that they're pretty ridiculous, hence him laughing so much. It's not so much that you're all hilarious, rather than you all being pretty stupid but it doesn't matter. You note how easy his laughter, that you couldn't even picture before hearing it for yourself, can come out. How open he is to meddle with you.
He fits so well in your bubble. This personal place only Taehyung and Yoongi have ever been authorized to inhabit. He matches perfectly. It fills your heart and mind with so much content, you feel your cheeks hurt from smiling constantly without meaning too. It's what he does, you suppose, making you smile. And when you notice the pink tint colouring his cheeks, rounded out lovingly so by a grin, you assume he's feeling the same, enjoying his time with all of you, your heart dips in the warmest bath. 
"Dude!" For the umpteenth time, he's trying to wave himself some air with a hand. Taehyung has had enough and just slammed his fist to the table, making everything on it knock against each other, Yoongi's eyes this close to falling out of their sockets. Jungkook just giggles some more, he might be a bit tipsy. "Just tie your hair up, you're making me sweat just looking at your mop!"
"I don't even have-" Taehyung's already up from his chair, he bumps his leg in the process but pay it no attention, marching over his future victim with a little hair-tie that seemed to appear from thin air -probably did too. Jungkook is so lenient with your best friend, too lenient you'd say, you wouldn't even have it in you. When he excitedly reaches forward, his long fingers parting the dark locks in two, he's trying to tie one end into a little side ponytail. Before he's even done with the first one, you roll your eyes, knowing what he's aiming for. Of course, he wouldn't just give him a regular manbun or something.
For the first time, you meet one of Jungkook's eyes, the one uncovered thanks to Taehyung's shenanigan. It's round, dark but warm like rich chocolate, sparkling with exhilaration but concerned.
"What's he doing?" He asks you, unbeknownst to the fact that meeting half of his face for the first time, the endearing pretty thing, stole every single little last word from you. With two fists hold to the side of your head, you attempt to show him the cute girly hairstyle Taehyung has in mind. He winces at that, nose scrunching into itself so high, the round thing turns into something adorable, shaking his head to try to free himself from your friend's prying hands, a grin still on his lips.
"Stop being such a baby!" Taehyung growls, trying for a little while to keep ongoing, his hand desperately holding onto the second bunch of hair. He's soon forced to stop as the victim turns to be too unwilling. "Ok fine! You do it then!" 
It's you he is barking to. If the hair tie thrown straight in your eye is any teller. It renders you blind for a second. Until you can blink the stingy discomfort away and you’re greeted by Jungkook and his endearing face with the oh so adorable tiny tail hanging from the side of his head, observing you with great attention, single eye blinking worrisome. He looks cute, half dolled up like a girl, fearful and curious to discover how you’ll treat him. For a second, you are tempted to follow your friend's design. Because how cute would this man look with two ponytails hanging on top of his head, with maybe even tiny hair clips to perfect it all.
He’d be pissed though and wouldn’t keep it probably so what’s the point.
The real point is that you have a hair tie in your hand, fingers itching on instinct to play with the shiny raven locks and the owner of said pretty locks, silently permitting you to do just that.
Maybe Taehyung is not as dumb and as useless as you thought him to be. Your prior reflex would be to assume he didn’t even mean to create this opportunity for you. He’s just invading as a person, touchy-feely and very comfortable with anyone entering his vicinity. You do owe him more credits and you willingly give them to him for this time. Because if he didn’t intend to put your foot on the stirrup, he surely did anyway, with a natural and a smoothness you couldn’t imagine coming from him. 
Standing behind Jungkook's chair, hands hovering centimetres away, you feel so blessed, you’d jump over to Taehyung's side to snug him to your fervent heart if you didn’t have better at hand -and if the idea of actually having him this close to you did not fill you with an immense cringe.
Taehyung is watching, over the rim of his glass, with an obnoxious, kid like excited sparks burning you uncomfortably. You curse him out, soundlessly but with such great articulation, he can’t possibly miss the words.
Yoongi who watches all of it notices and understands it all as he always does even when he pretends he doesn’t, starts talking then. Something about Brazil where Jungkook had spent nine months, living alone in the wild forest of Amazonia, and about the curious plants and fruits he heard that could be found there. It’s a nice distraction. Soon Jungkook is on it again, Taehyung partakes a role in it too, leaving you alone to handle the grandiose yet terrifying fantasy that is touching and messing with Jungkook's hair.
The first ponytail comes undone easily, the hair tie simply slipping off with just the tip of your fingers to guide it.
When you timidly start, reaching with two hands to grab all of the hair from him, you feel a rush of blood to your cheeks, heart skipping beats and perspiration bubbling at your temple. Your fingers just have to graze slightly the skin of his neck, all warm and soft, you have to do it a few times even because his pretty locks are rebellious and your fingers too willing to let them run in between them, silky as they are. 
There’s a strand refusing your gentle taming, slipping from your grasp and falling in front of his eye. You go to catch it back, meeting hot fingers on his temples. Yours surrender immediately. Jungkook from the corner of his eye, over his shoulder, throw you a glance and a smile. A small one, small but fond. 
"Doesn't it get lonely?" Yoongi asks as Jungkook tucks the strand behind his ear.
"Not really. I'm used to it." He shrugs. You take your sweet, sweet time to finish the half-bun, half-tail hairdo you're working on. Somehow something lovely has settled. Something comfortable, domestic. He's not wary of your touch, letting you mess with his hair, not even flinching when, tentatively, just taking a chance, just once, the pad of your thumb stroke the hot skin of his neck. "Dragons can be very affectionate-" That makes Taehyung cackles as Yoongi gasps in disbelief. You have a hard time picturing those creatures as affectionate. Jungkook is different anyway. You need to be different to go after the path he's chosen for himself. "I swear!" Taehyung rolls his eyes, shaking his head.
"Have you considered all this time spent away from civilization turned you mad?"
The bun is done, sadly. You made it last for as long as you could but eventually, as every perfect moment, it has to come to an end. You don't even bother to hide your dread as you let your ass drop to your chair, puffing.
"Leave him alone, moron." A few peanuts to his stupid head and Taehyung stops messing with Jungkook, stops acting like he's insane and starts telling about something no one cares about -so much so, Yoongi leaves to go chat up an old goblin who's just entered the bar.
Jungkook turns to you, leaning a bit. Smiling quietly, gently. As if he doesn't realise the face he owns once his hair isn't hiding the majority of it anymore. 
It must be a joke. He must know. He must have noticed how his straight, dark eyebrows, with the cut splitting the right one in half, gives an irresistible, dark, mature shape to the roundest, sparkliest set of eyes the world has ever seen. He must know his face is a wonderful work of art, with the tiny little details, here and there, adding charms and depth and uniqueness, that only the greatest, only a special artist would know to use -like this faint scar linking a mole under his lip to the corner of his mouth, or the one craving in the top of his cheek. His colours are splendid too. While you'd always seen him with black everything, black hair, black clothes, quiet sombre aura and a tiny bit of red, you'd catch sometimes, where he'd hurt his hands. Never would have you thought, he's more harlequin than monochromatic. Golden scopes, tipsy patches of red matching the tiny pout he owns for a mouth, eyes not dark but the richest shade of chocolate.
"You," Jungkook starts in a whisper, now so close you have a whiff of his smell, torturous scent of pinewood, of soot, and something else, more natural, sweat most definitely but turns out to be the better element of the mixture, suave, awfully addictive. "you believe me, don't you?" You need a full minute to get your brain's vessels to connect. A full minute during which you have no idea what the hell he's talking about, what words are and how to use them, and all you can focus on is not dying from a heart attack -and also, not show that you are having one.
You shake your head up and down, still unsure to what you're agreeing to. It does not matter that much because he's smiling the way he does. The adorable smile another wonderful novelty, shaped like a bunny one, eating up his upper lip into the thinnest cupid bow. The sparks in his eyes, on his cheeks, from excitement, mirth. He's really here with you, warmer than you've ever thought him able to be, and somehow, different than what you had expected, but thousand times more endearing. Having developed a crush on him previously makes more and more sense by the second.
"Thank you for the invitation." He says quietly. You don't miss a single word, nor the least flinch in his intonation (soothing, genuine), even in the loudness of the bar, because, for some reason, he's never leaned back. He remains there, hardly a dozen of centimetres away from you.
"No problem." You lie, effortlessly after a few gulps of liquid courage. If you're enchanted by the evening, the unexpected turns of events, he still made you go through a short misery for this. He must see your awkwardness, he must notice how you're sweating bullets and swallowing with difficulty. How your eyes keep battling between wanting to bath in his and avoid them at all cost. Jungkook doesn't budge though and it almost gets annoying, almost upset you how he doesn't care -or maybe simply doesn't realise- the effect he's having on you. "I thought you couldn't-" You start, meaning to sting him a bit because he deserves it.
"I finished early, and um-"
"Was it even real?" You ask, genuinely curious to have him clear this out for you. It's not like you're mad anymore. On your face, you only feel a tingle at the apple of your cheeks from how many smiles and waves of laughter you've shared, the desperate tears from earlier long dried and gone. "The excuse, I mean."
"It wasn't an excuse..." Jungkook turns his face away from you then. Biting hard on his bottom lip, a traitorous grin hardly contained. The tip of his ears are flushed, you wonder from what, until you see his hand raising to the top of his head where it flats down hair that doesn't need it. "I- I just-" Maybe it's seeing him this abashed that pushes you forward, literally, scraping your chair to the wooden floor, thigh meeting his in the process. "I was startled when you- asked. When you said my name even, I wasn't- like- expecting it and I'm not used to-" He cuts himself off, a hand vaguely motioning the room.
"To what?" You insist, mimicking his murmuring tone, terrified as you are to pop out the little bubble now only he and you dwell. 
"Going out with people or just- hang out, I don't know." He looks inherently embarrassed now. Possibly even a bit saddened, you note. Still, his face remains open, kind, the ever-boyish smile teasing at least the corner of his lips. You don't mean to be so sappy but you wish, consciously, right this second, for this very moment to last an eternity or at least, for your memory to take a picture realistic enough, as in-depth and detailed as possible so that you'll be able to recall and relive it for years to come. 
"Oh. Dragons don't like to go clubbing?" He bumps your thigh with his knee, chortling at your words but shaking his head nonetheless. As you stare at his thigh, covered by a cheap black cloth stretched to the very limit, stuck to yours, almost supported by yours, sending a continuous channel of heat from there to the pit of your stomach, it seems like you've reached a determining point. A definite phase where you can handle him (more or less). Enough not to liquefy on the spot at his every glance, while remaining way too aware of him, his smell, his warmth, every sound coming out of his mouth, his lovely, lovely charms. 
You really like him.
"My head hurts." Taehyung's half-dead on the table. You're not too worried because as his head lies flat, his hair marinating in a pool of spilt beer, he can mumble with a lot of coherence about how heavy his head feels, and how it will probably weigh this much until Monday. Jungkook grabs a bunch of tissues to try to slip under Taehyung's head as an absorbing pillow, it's no use though, because Taehyung, strangely enough, feels too comfortable in this position to let himself be disturbed. Jungkook seems concerned, a bit bothered even -way more than you are because you are very much used to this depiction of lame- until Yoongi passes by, observing with deep disapproval written all over his face. He kicks on purpose one of Taehyung's chair legs, making him groan, and leaves.
Greediness turns you bold. Knocking Jungkook's leg the same way he did earlier, you call back his attention on you. For some reason, he stares at your legs, touching. You wonder for a second if you shouldn't have. It's not that much, he did it earlier, but maybe you shouldn't have. He's too pensive. Doesn't budge a muscle. In deep reflection. You hit him again, a tiny little push, and a few others to follow, like an annoying bratty kid trying to steal someone's attention. His hand finds its way to your knee then, enclasps it entirely, thumb pressing and you have no idea if any of this means anything, but it does send a rush of jolt straight between your legs. Surely he doesn't mean this use of firmness to turn you on, does he? How could he even guess it having this effect? You didn't even know it yourself.
It does work though. You stop acting like a feisty little brat, patiently waiting for him to be ready to listen to you. He pretends, mean as he is, that the hand won't stay, letting it slide slightly away from your knee. It doesn't go far though. Somehow it's comfortable a bit higher on your thigh. Not very high. It's awfully PG, awfully casual and platonic, but it serves to drive you a little breathless.
With the wide glassy eyes, the small smile that keeps finding its seat on his lips each time he turns to face you, he's all ears, all eyes, just for you. It's infuriating. Galvanizing. You lavish in it.
"You said it doesn't get lonely?" You blurp out, putting all efforts on focusing on the question you are sincerely curious about. If you didn't have it blinking loud and bright in your brain for the past ten minutes, you would have had it long lost and forgotten. He's messing with your head. But you owe to ask. The curious sadness, that you may have imagined for all you know, you saw briefly earlier needs to be addressed.
If it ever were there, it's gone anyway. As he stares into your eyes, seemingly pondering his next words around in his head, there's a gleam shining to you personally there.
"It doesn't when you don't know what you're missing."
"I don't feel too good, puffskein." Taehyung burps out. Thanks to some miracle, he doesn't end up vomiting all over the table but it's obvious he's this close to it and needs to be taken home. It takes all the goodness of your soul, all of it, to control your urge to grab your wand and throw a forbidden curse on his stupid ass.
The asshole makes you out to be an ungrateful friend, appreciation long gone, aggravation deeply grounded. It was going so well.
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"Sorry about Taehyung." You start, wincing a bit. Your back leaned against the door of your room, it's late, quiet and badly lit up in Hogwarts' hallways. Taehyung is sound asleep in his bed, fully clothed and wrenching of a burp who turned down to be vomit. You've managed to use your wand on him, something to make sure he'll have a long and safe night and a rather gentler awakening tomorrow.
Jungkook pretty much carried him on his back, all the way to his bed, without much of a complaint, only a growl or two when Taehyung showed himself difficult in the capricious stairs hall -because it's the best and safest place to try and stumble, blindly, drunk out of your mind. 
"It's fine. I had a great time."
"Dragging Tae's drunk ass all the way here was fun to you?" You tease, squinting at him. You know what he means. You know that he knows what you mean. You're only trying to earn time. Just a little bit more time. It's late, he's about to leave you for his room, you assume, and you're not just ready for it yet.
"Maybe not this part."
You don't know what to say to make him stay. It's not like you could possibly invite him inside, is it?
Yoongi would say it's way too soon. Another version of you, maybe a twenty-four-hour younger version of you, the one that didn't know him from this close yet, that didn't get to talk and undergo the full experience that is Jeon Jungkook, to feel his hand on your thigh, his pretty eyes -Merlin, there is a time when you didn't even suspect he hid those wonders right here- would agree. It's not your kind, to have hook-ups. You wouldn't even know how to.
That being said, it's not like you often meet Jeon Jungkooks.
You're not that greedy. You're sure of it. When he's leaning himself against the wall, shoulder pressed against it to support himself, head slightly tilted, watching you soundly, the corner of his lips always curled upward. His eyes say it all. Completely black in the shadow, hooded, tempting. Sending heat to your core, shudders along your spine, tingles to the tip of your fingers.
If he says something, if he suggests anything, you'll say yes. He just has to say it. You've been courageous enough already. Asking him out, talking to him, and everything else. You just can't. You can't imagine admitting out loud what you wish to happen now, exposing yourself to him again by asking him if he'd like to stay the night.
And it's too soon, isn't it?
But Hell, you still have the lucid memory of his hair, running in between your fingers and it's become undeniable how bad you'd like to have it again except this time, you could be less delicate.
"I should probably go."
The disappointment is the language you speak because you're too tired to filter the vexation in your voice, "What, your dragons need to be tucked in?"
"Uh?" He chortles. All teeth out, eyes a bit wide, he regards your face, evidently amused. "Is there anything on your mind you'd like to share, maybe?"
"Absolutely not." You're bratty. It's the tiredness and maybe the butterbeer too. Undoubtedly the frustration. Arms crossed, looking away, pouting because somehow you are unable to relax your mouth and need to be so obvious about it all.
"Are you mad at my dragons?" Jungkook asks lightly. If you don't dare look at his face right now, you can guess it. He must have that smirk you've seen a glimpse of a few times tonight. From your peripheral vision, you can tell he's mocking you. Standing away from the wall, a step closer to you, chest puffed out and arms crossed on it.
"Why would I be?" You mumble, ever so vexed. 
"Exactly." He's holding back a laugh, you can hear it louder than if he were to let it out.
Continuing, same tone, same pout, squinting harder at the void that is the end of the hall, "They sound awesome, I have no reason-"
"They are. You should meet them."
Startled, you look up to him, eyes wide with both fear and interest. "Should I?"
"Yeah." His tongue swipes swiftly over his bottom lip before he bites on it for a second, pondering. "Go to bed now so that you're in good shape tomorrow and I'll introduce you then."
Of course, he'd be so casual about it but the idea kind of blows your mind. "Really?" You've seen dragons from afar a very few times, during competitions or this one time, with Taehyung at that circus in Wales. But never have you approached one. Like most wizards, at least all wizards holding the basic amount of worth necessary to their life, it's not something you want to do: approach a dragon. You know that for the Care of Magical Creatures class, Jungkook only brings one dragon at a time. The class with their professor standing on one end of a wasteland, and Jungkook, at least a hundred feet away, presents them the animal. 
"Yeah," Jungkook says again, bobbing his head along. You're dazzled by the light the grin adorning his face brought. He really wants to show you his dragons. "But early. Like super early. They're tired in the morning so they won't be too... agitated."
"Is this supposed to reassure me?" He shrugs with the same cheerful beaming. 
"Did you hurt yourself with Taehyung?" For the third time tonight, you've seen him reach a hand over his shoulder, messily massaging the muscle with a tiny grimace on his face. He hasn't mentioned it so you did not bring it up but the thought that maybe it's your dumbass of a best friend who's responsible awakes your guilt.
"No, it's not Taehyung." He scoffs. Almost offended that you could imply he hurt himself that way. "I had a bad fall."
"On your back? How do you fall on your back?" There are, actually, a lot of ways for someone to fall on their back but somehow, you can only imagine Quidditch players to have the occasion to do so. You haven't fallen to the ground since you were twelve and finally mastered the skill of flying on a cheap broomstick. But Jungkook is different, right?
"Tina. You'll meet her tomorrow."
Tina. One of his dragons. Of course. He sounds so excited to introduce you to a mythical creature who manifestly attacked him, you start to wonder if that's not the thing that is wrong about him. Because everything is too sweet and lovely and perfect about him, something must be wrong -or else, it's not fair. And maybe his thing is that he is batshit crazy.
"Anyway," A clearing of the throat -you almost missed those, "go to bed. Sleep tight. Tomorrow, I want you-" Your heart stops in your bosom. There's the tongue winking at you again, through his pink lips, it's indecent, makes you forget it all about his alleged insanity, "alive and kicking."
You roll your eyes, raising your eyebrows, bewildered by his choice of words. He laughs, again. The boyish one but quieter, as if he's scared to wake the castle or just a grumpy painting possibly hanging somewhere in the dark. It's lovely. "Thanks for walking me to my room. And for Tae." You say, sincerely, turning to your door to open it.
"You're very welcome." Before you disappear in your suite, you glance his way. It's sappy-you again, needing to take a mental picture of his face, with the hair still pushed back, the rebellious strand from earlier curling against his cheek, his handsome everything, his soft expression and charming smile. He doesn't seem to mind. If anything he's doing the same, not hinting to a departure until you take it upon yourself that maybe, it's enough staring at each other wordlessly for tonight and you wave him goodnight, closing the door behind you.
By Merlin's beard, what the hell happened today?
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And what the fuck is going on, now?
Your ass down on the hard ground, head dizzy, with a little warm tingling sensation in the crook of your neck. 
Jungkook is standing, looking like he’s a thousand feet tall with his long legs, chest puffed out and leaning upward. He’s facing Tina, the infamous Tina, about his height if you put aside the long tail laying flat to the ground in between her legs. She's a bright degraded of a deep purple and a fire red, covered in scales, sharp and standing upwards every few seconds as if they're breathing along with her lungs.
He has a forearm blocking her jaws open, glaring with the most severe set of eyes you could never have imagined on him boring holes in her flamboyant ones. He’s growling things in a language you think you recognise as Romanian, barking in her face as he forces his arm deeper, gagging her, not caring about the sharp teeth digging in his skin. 
After a while of the strangest and scariest staring contest you’ve ever witnessed, the tail lying between her legs flap once and she whines a heartbreaking mewl.
His face softens at that, slightly, he frees her from his arm, taking a step back while keeping an attentive eye on her. 
Tina snivels more, as soon as her master’s attention hints at leaving her, rubbing the tip of her gigantic snot against his shoulder blade. 
“Not now.” He says, sending her away with a pat to the side of her neck. 
This is the weirdest thing you’ve ever experienced. 
You simply remain there, staring, gaping, trying to process it all. 
You’ve been jumped by a dragon and Jeon Jungkook is-
“Are you okay? I’m so sorry.” He still has his hair pushed back in a messier bun than the one you made for him yesterday as if he knows that you like him a lot like that. Therefore nothing is hiding the most pitiful look you've ever seen on anyone's face when he looks down to you. Eyebrows dropping low above shiny wide pearls, his two hands reaching for you, munching nervously on his lip. 
-Terrible. You just had the biggest fright of your entire life -and probably, hopefully, the last one of the kind- and all you can think about, is how wet you got from Jungkook growling like an animal, and somehow intimidating the fiercest animal there is to submission. 
“She doesn’t- I didn’t think she’d be that excited, I’m sorry, ___.” He mumbles, guilt laced in every syllabus he pronounces. You accept one of his hand, sliding yours against his palm, hot and calloused, sending warm all over your body as he squeezes around your fingers. “It’s my fault. She’s used to playing rough with me and she doesn’t control her strength very well yet-“ 
He bends over, catching your second hand in his and lifts you, a bit too strongly given how you are entirely made of mush right now. You hit his chest in the process, he has to steady you once you’re up on your wobbly legs. He holds you with a hand to your upper arm, still hot, still firm, it has the blood to your face boil even more. What kind of experience would it be to bathe entirely in this warmth, to have not the least stupid barrier in between yours and his skin, to feel his firm hold grabbing you, his whole body covering you and pressing you down?
You need to focus on the pets. 
Tina seems upset, a few meters away, her tail slapping the ground impatiently but her head held low. There are three others, different sizes and spices, quietly laying above the trees forming the forest glade. They’re watching inquisitively, quiet, as cats would, you had no idea they could behave like that but then again, they were raised by this fucking guy. 
The guy still holding you close, breathing hard over your forehead, who’s most definitely searching for your eyes you are deliberately not allowing him to meet. You’re not mad. A bit shook still maybe. You’re just soaked, head filled with inappropriate thoughts you're terrified he might hear from how loud they are. And the oblivious idiot keeps apologising and asking if you’re fine because you should not be, you should probably be more traumatised, certainly not aroused as you are, especially when he’s feeling this guilty. You catch a wobble in one of his words and wonder if he could even cry from a guilty conscious. 
Therefore you grant him a glance. 
“I’m fine, Jungkook. Really.”
He must see something there, hear the subtle tilt your voice, too soft, has taken because he nods, visibly relaxing. His hand departs slowly, fingers grazing your skin. 
“Jungkook, I have something for you.” You say it like you know where it’ll lead. Frankly, you have no idea. You can hope, wish very loud and clear in your mind, but you can’t bet on it. “For your back.” You fish out of your shoulder bag a tiny flask. With its shimmery blue content, the tag on it with his name and a short note consisting of wishes of healing you’re somehow embarrassed to show him. “I made it before coming. It should fix your back in no time.”
“That’s very kind of you, ___. Thank you.” He grabs your hand along with the bottle as if he couldn’t take it on its own, and now you’re sure he knows what he’s doing to you. He can’t be innocently stealing all of these touches from you without knowing how intensely pleasing it feels all over.
“Don’t thank me yet, you might not like the... process.” He raises an eyebrow, head slanting to the side. “It’s a bit uncomfortable for like... 30 seconds and then it gets better.” 
“How uncomfortable?” 
“Well... Nothing too bad. I’m sure you handled way worse.” He can see you’re not completely honest with him. For your defence, looking at all the scars scattered on the very few skin your eyes have access too, he must be used to some kind of pain. It’s not painful per se. It is uncomfortable. Like dipping a firstly warmed up skin in a cryogenic liquid for half a minute kind of uncomfortable. He senses it. Watching the strange liquid carefully, suspiciously, he’s not certain he’ll use it. 
“Is it dangerous?”
You scoff, hands raising to your sides, “No, I mean- Not if you apply it correctly, it’s fine.”
“If I-“ He worries at his lip, frowning, mentally debating the subject as if it’s that much of a big deal. Honestly, the risk, is, not that tragic. An over-application can cause a curious discolouration that will, later on, turn into a marble-like blue patch -it might be definite but you’re not sure-, you can potentially burn your skin too but usually, it only happens -and it’s the case with any magical ointment really- if it’s mixed with another ingredient it shouldn’t come in contact with or on a body that’s already under certain charms -which is not his case, you assume-, and of course, an ointment made for local application should in no circumstances be ingested. It’s not that complicated. He doesn’t need to look so scared and suspicious. 
“For Merlin’s sake, Jungkook! Don’t use it if-“ You aim to snap it out of his hand but he’s quicker, holding up where you can’t reach, the corner of his eyes crinkling cutely. 
“No I want to but- can you do it for me? You worried me.”
“You really are a big baby, aren’t you?” He shrugs, doesn’t deny it. He looks cute like that. Dancing on his two feet, munching on his lip, hands deep in the pockets of his pants. “Fine.” You say without meaning it. You wouldn’t say that you’re fine or that you’ll be fine. 
When he walks you to his cabin, twenty meters away from the dragons' playground, your heart starts beating hard and fast, more furiously at every step. It might not mean much more than a nurse job. At the same time, would it make any sense for you to not take the opportunity to take a step and make it more than that? Kim Taehyung would turn you into some kind of pile of whatever gross creature's shit if he were to hear that.
The cabin is super tiny, rustic and barely equipped. Wooden floor, wooden walls, wooden furniture -if you can call them that. Mentally, you curse at Mrs Umbridge. If she didn’t plan this on purpose just because she despises the guy and his pets. You can tell he sleeps in it because of the shitty mattress sitting on a pile of wooden boxes, with the sheets unmade. Discarded used clothes in a corner, a little tower made of books that all seem to be about travelling, magical creatures and travellers’ autobiographies. It’s dark, smells like soot with a tint of something sweet, as if the remnants of a pastry made of cinnamon is hiding somewhere.
Jungkook excuses himself for the mess, even if it’s not much compared to the poor condition he must have received the cabin as, jumping to the only window to tear open the dusty curtain.
It brings a bit of light inside, a subdued but warm yellow-ray coming straight from the barely awakening Sun.
It feels a bit stuffy in here. With him taking over the whole space, and your lungs struggling to pump normally. It feels too intimate, to be standing a few steps away from the place he sleeps in at night. Too intimate because you're not used to it, and two days ago, or even fucking yesterday morning, you would have never thought you'd ever be standing here.
"It's cosy."
You comment, humming to yourself, at the same time as he asks, "Should I take off my shirt?"
You almost choke, tilting your head, watching him with misplaced shock. He's already holding the hem of his black shirt higher on his stomach, exposing smooth golden skin, tight on a thin, sculpted waist, a trail of teasing black hair under his belly button, yet looking at you with his wide round eyes, unsure, quite innocent somehow.
"I don't think you need to- the whole thing." Coward-you hurries to answer, trying to divert your attention to anything but him.
Jungkook turns around, giving you his back and raising his hands to the back neck of his shirt, wincing silently, as he lifts the cloth. The back is almost worst than the front. The thin waist you had a glimpse of, the smooth skin with the golden highlights, the cute dimples at the bottom of his back, the developed, beautifully drawn muscles. A dizzying hot flush takes over your head.
This guy is a mystery. Under his thick, oversized clothes, you knew he was well built, but never would you have expected that. It's not like you care about it usually but with him standing in front of you, smelling so wonderful, with this thing, intense and unique, linking and running in between you two, you can't ignore it all. You can't ignore nor deny how attracted you are and giddy and greedy at the idea of seeing it, of touching it all -when most people don't even get close enough to him to suppose what he's hiding.
It's easy to get back to Earth and the present moment with the large, blue hematoma marking his right scapula. It looks painful as hell, so much so you wonder how he's been handling it so far, how he hasn't visited the infirmary yet, how often it happens and if he always simply tighten his jaws and take the pain until it just leaves.
He turns you cheesy again. You'd like to lean forward and press a kiss to make it better. You wouldn't dare though, and you know, for a fact, that the ointment you prepared for him would be an infinite amount of times more effective to heal him.
He shudders at some point. Probably because you're taking a short eternity to do anything, or just say anything, silently contemplating instead.
Gulping hard, you start, "Bear with me, ok? It'll be better in no time." He grumbles something to himself, way too quiet for you to hear over the loud popping of your potion's bottle and the even louder rummaging of your heart in your bosom.
The first drops seem to be fine. He's not squirming under the gentle touch of your fingertips, handling the strange sensation that the potion causes at first, instantly warming up at the contact with skin. He even relaxes, letting you spread evenly all over the bruise, calm and still as the perfect patient. Until he squeals.
"Fuck, what- ah!"
On reflex, he tries to bend and twist, attempting desperately to avoid the inhumanly freezing discomfort burning his skin. You try to hold him still, hands clasped to his shoulders but he wouldn't stop wriggling, whining like a hurt puppy.
For a tough guy, he can't handle much, you decide. It's amusing but concerning as you see him move around so much, you can imagine how he's stimulating the pain coming directly from his injury rather than the ointment.
"Jungkook, stop!" He manages to knock the pile of his books down with a blind kick. "It'll last just a few seconds, calm down!" Your hands fully pressed against his bruise, the heat coming from your overly agitated heart helping, it releases some of the cold. Somehow your tiny hands on his broad back are enough and he sighs in contentment, just a tiny whimper uttered as a remnant of his short but intense torment.
"Are you ok?" You ask after a few minutes. His breathing has quieted down too. His shoulders hanging low, his head relaxed, ease and comfort have taken over his body and mind.
"Yeah. But-" Tentatively, he tests out his right shoulder, rolling it up and down a few times, a tiny impressed 'wow' escapes him and you grin to yourself, enchanted to see him acknowledge your talent. "When you said discomfort-"
"Sorry about that. I thought you wouldn't want to try but it's worth it, isn't it?"
"It is." He has a sudden burst of laughter when he turns around, flashing you a relieved smile. You can read in his eyes that he's a bit surprised, a bit confused himself about what's so funny, probably settling on the little fright the experience gave him. You won't mention that the potion, if it's so effective and this, so quickly, is because it has very highly active ingredients that mess with the organism as soon as it penetrates the skin and his insides might be a tiny bit all over the place for a few moments.
Suddenly, a big whooshing sound comes from outside, seemingly knocking against the front wall of the cabin and making it shake on its hinges. It just makes him chuckle some more, not worried the least and beyond amused by your reflex to step towards him, hands raised, this close to grabbing a hold of his shirt.
"It's just Tina getting impatient, don't worry."
"Don't worry?" You scoff. The mention of her name brings back the memory from earlier. For some reasons, Jungkook's presence now and inside that memory, make it all seem rather mundane but you're sure, you're positive that you should feel traumatized by what happened. A dragon fucking attacked you. Jungkook shoots you a crooked smile you can't say you recognise. With a little bite on the corner of his bottom lip, dark eyes squinted yet shinning mischief.
"You're safe with me." He says, voice low, teasing, as one of his hand reaches for his index and thumb to pinch lightly at your waist.
"Because they're scared of you somehow?" He laughs again, hand now encompassing your side, staring down at you. He looks so inhumanly attractive. You're confused where this intensity comes from. If it's simple lust, coming from a genuine natural place, the same as yours. Or if the potion is not still messing with him, and his hormones, possibly. It shouldn't. It's been a good ten minutes and his build wouldn't entail this long of a repercussion.
"They're not scared. They just know who's the alpha." He explains with the cockiest shit-eating grin you've ever seen. Even greasy Gilderoy Lockhart doesn't have those. You'd find him gross if he was a hundred per cent committing to the act. There's a lurch though, in the way chocolate marbles shine in childish amusement, the tendentious beam turning into a boyish one, biting back something you know would sound like a giggle if he let it escape. You chuckle yourself, hitting him on the chest -because now that he's healed, he can take it. He doesn't budge an inch, doesn't back the slightest away from you. If anything, the hand holding you slide a bit further behind your back, keeping you close. "I'm just kidding." He whispers, voice as soothing as his attentive gaze as turned. So attentive you feel your face burn with shame. As a poor attempt to deflect your focus on this, your hand raises to his chest again, fingers scrapping at a tiny default in his shirt.
"You're not." He snickers. "I still don't understand how you're not scared of them..." The question somehow was never brought up. The whole night, the day before, your friends and you spend your time praising him and asking so many questions about his life and dragons in general, the things he's seen, the things he's done, the reasons that push him to take this orientation -something about adventure and wanting to see where the world ends was the answer however you could tell it wasn't entirely the real one- but you never actually asked how come he's not terrified of these deadly creatures.
"Honestly, your students are way scarier to me than they are." Your eyes grow big with surprise as you simper. You naturally lean a bit back as you laugh, and he follows you, for some reasons, eyes fixed on you, a tiny smile shaping his mouth. "That one girl the other day, the way she looked at you."
"Yeah, they can be real brats sometimes."
"My dragons, on the other hand, are super playful and soft." He sounds like a little boy, trying to brag about his alleged better pet. Of course, he'd be lethally sexy a second and undeniably adorable the next.
"You're a bit weird, Jeon." Jungkook shrugs, not sure what to say to that because he knows you're right. He can also hear in your voice that you don't mind and he's not sure how to say that he's glad you don't. Because he doesn't say anything you force yourself to look up, study his handsome face to read him. His expression is precisely what you expect yours to look like. Content yet expecting for something more, enamoured.
It's just hard to take the first step. Impossible to overcome.
Only now, from so close he can probably feel your breath hitting his neck, you notice he has a thin beard decorating his jaw. There's a patch missing on the left. You press the tip of your index to the tender skin, noting he's probably got burnt.
"That's what happens when a baby with a cold refuses to leave your shoulder." "It sneezed on you?" He nods, grinning. "I could make something for that. And for your eyebrow too." You stare, your finger caressing the soft skin, cheating a bit and slipping to the side of his jaw where there's nothing except a barely unshaven skin. Jungkook sucks in a breath.
"Would you?"
"If you want me too. You'd be losing charm points for sure but-"
"Oh, I have those?"
For some reasons, it’s this moment your memory chooses to recycle your friend’s words. The ones about him being that great. With the pretty gold glimmer coming from his peculiar round eyes, you do not doubt that he is. “As if.” You roll your eyes, jaded by his certain lie.
And the ones about him possibly being a lot, being too much to handle follow quickly behind. He is a whole lot, from head to toes, to the very essence of his character. The thing is he’s dipped in a thick pool of sweet honey, rounding his edges into something so much more accessible, too easy to swallow, how could you not try. “Let’s not fix it then,” He starts, one of his hand roughly rubbing at his short beard. “you already have too many ahead of me.” You give him a doubtful “oh really?” look he greets with an amused grin. He’s pretty smooth for a guy that hardly ever interacts with women and humans in general. You almost ask if his pets give him dating advice but you decide to keep it for later. The cat and mouse game is getting hard to endure. You’re not bored of it but you know you’re both ready for it to turn a little less playful and a little more decisive -also you don’t know exactly what time it is, however, you do know you have a class in the morning. It (whatever it is) won’t happen with you bullying him restlessly. Maybe one of you will get tired of watching so closely the other's face, you both know the details by heart by now, are probably even able to draw them with your eyes closed, and act. There’s a subtle frown messing up his handsome face. A tiny dip of the starting lines of his eyebrows and a pout reshaping his lips. “I’m really sorry about that.” He mutters, shame dripping from his words. The pad of his thumb raises to your neck, grazing ever so lightly the skin surrounding the tiny cut Tina gave you earlier. It’s not that bad. Doesn’t even hurt anymore. When your heart is beating so fast, when your cheeks are burning so high, when your core is quivering so much, you barely remember about the cut on your neck ever hurting. He seems so sorry though. And then he’s leaning towards you, dubious eyes not leaving yours until he’s hidden in the crook of your neck and can’t see you anymore, and softly, presses his lips to the bruise. It feels like a seizure in your heart. It shouldn’t be much but it is, the softest touch, most delicate, also a beautiful promise for more to come.
You relax under him, his arm naturally sliding further behind you, pulling you flush against him. You tend your neck, expecting more, demanding more. He instead breathes in, nose buried in your hair, humming to himself as if the scent pleases him before he’s kissing your neck again, this time a more resolute kiss, with a tough pressure, a louder smack.
You can’t help but giggle, he sniffed you like an animal would, like a dragon would. The giggle turns into an embarrassing fit of laughter, the tension wearing you out probably helping a lot.
“What’s so funny?” Jungkook asks, cheeks flushed, eyes bright with curiosity and a smile translating his bemusement. He backs away for a second, just to see your face.
“Sorry-“ More giggles, he pinches your side, you barely manage to bite your laughter back in your throat. “Sorry but you’re really- I just didn’t realise to what extent you’ve been raised by dragons.”
He’s confused you can tell, frowning in deep thought yet not looking the least vexed. It makes you smile. Seeing him looking so adorable, a little lost, a little embarrassed. You kiss the palm of his hand, the one that’s sitting where it fits perfectly, tucked in the crook of your neck, his eyes grow big for a split second. “Cause I smelled you? Was it weird? I’m sorry, I’m just used to- like- smells are imp-“
He made it so easy for you to press your lips to his. Everything about him, from his smell to his warmth, to his smiles both from his pretty flushed lips and from the wonders he owns for eyes, his voice soothing, welcoming, words always gentle, always soft. He’s both the unknown and at the same time, the most comfortable aura you’ve ever wanted to dip in.
It’s hesitant at first, or more precisely sheepish, like testing the waters. Figuring out where you’re stepping in, noticing you’re barely keeping your nose up and afloat. It’s scary, new and exciting. Requires a little bit of practice, some intended nibbles, some timid lingering.
You’re both unsure, trying until you’re not anymore. Like a button blooming into a rose, suddenly turned bright bloody red, intense and passionate, with fierce thorns digging and scratching at the skin.
You sigh into him, he’s humming as in agreement. There’s a little agitation coming from outside. As if they know what you two are doing, how you’re feeling. As if impatient Tina can tell you’re stealing her human right under her snoot.
He is so willing to get stolen though. Chasing after your mouth when you worry for a second about the ruckus going on just behind the wall, arm tightening around you, hugging you as close as he can, his body melting with yours whenever your fingers dig in his skin.
You’re the first one to slip your fingers underclothes to just have a little sample of naked skin. It’s just past the hem of his sweatshirt, the soft and burning skin of his waist. It spurs him on. As if he was just waiting for you to give him permission, his hands find a home under your shirt. Flat on your skin, so large, so hearty, raw skin from someone who’s worked with those hands a lot, feeling so nice on you, feel like he’s holding you captive in between the palms.
The hand against your back slides up, stopping an instant where your bra is sealed, toying with it as if he’s wondering if he can. Deeming that he can’t, for some unknown reason, he goes further to grip the back of your neck. You’re too busy with his tongue teasing yours, with the growing stiffness digging in your stomach to notice. Have your brain been less occupied, you would probably have the fingers playing with the ends of his hair, pulling a little harsher than they already are. He’s loving it, it seems. Moaning each time you do, groaning each time your nails slip through the hair to scrap at his skin.
Everything is too good. Everything feels made to be, bodies made to meet and make up. It feels like this could be enough. Highly satisfying, more delicious than any make-out session has ever felt because none of those boys before were Jeon Jungkook and never have you liked someone as much as you like him.
But Jeon Jungkook can’t be perfect. You don’t know if he means to be to tease or if it’s just him holding onto some doubts, some insecurities, not wanting to go too far without you explicitly telling him that it’s what you want -because, clearly, it’s not evident enough, the way you’re hanging off of his mouth, limp in his arms, subjectively grinding against his cock can’t be telling enough.
His second hand, the one closest to all the places you want him to invade, won’t give in. Set on your stomach, his thumb retracing the underline of your bra, this hand is the very incarnation of a tormentor. You don’t last long, grousing in your mind, losing your shit and your patience, giving him chances after chances to finally get to it but of course he never does.
Your frustration reaches its limits when you back away from him, hitting his chest with your fist, breathless and frowning.
He’s too dazed, hooded eyes barely seeing anything but your swollen mouth, to comprehend. Until you bark his name, punching him again.
Jungkook takes in your mad eyes, scrunched eyebrows and impatient tapping of your foot on the cabin's floor.
“Touch me.” You whine more than you demand. His light chuckles fill the suffocating air, diffusing a little bit of the tension and maybe it’s not for the worst.
“Is that all?” He asks, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your pouty mouth. “You scared me.”
“I don’t care.” He is so gentle on your lips. The sweetest touch you’ve ever received there. Your heart is growing exponentially, threatens to burst in your chest and you’re loving every single second of it.
“You’re a bit mean when you’re frustrated, you know that?” He can hardly contain his amused grin long enough to kiss you. Explicitly telling you, he doesn’t care much for your moody outbursts. “And,” Another kiss right in the centre of your awaiting lips. “I was touching you.”
“Not enough.”
“What’s enough, lil’ brat?” He mumbles against the skin of your neck, biting a little at it, definitely grinning to himself there. You almost cum there.
“Touch me here.”
You can sense his cockiness drops to the ground when you grab his hands and press them to your clothed breasts. He just gapes, too shocked to act, as if it’s the first pair he’s coming in contact with. You have to do everything on his behalf and really, thankfully for him, you like him that much you don’t hold it against him. Tearing the cups of your bra down and under your breasts, guiding his long fingers to your tender mounds, he takes in a shaky breath, his curious eyes borne into yours.
Tentatively, he wraps his hands around them, weighing them, the pad of his thumb caressing the skin, enjoying taking extra time on the nipple.  You can tell he wants it, he’s too willing to touch you, yet his mouth, the stupid thing, starts to stutter, “B-but, I don’t think righ-“
“Please.” And if this isn’t enough, you’re giving up. You’ve tried so hard. Asking, moving his hands for him, pleading with your boobs out and your shirt bunched up over them. If this isn’t enough, you’re giving up and probably kicking him in the dick in your way out.
His puppy eyes fall from your eyes down to your breast, almost reluctantly. He leaves out a tiny whimper of pain. As if he’s the one hurting. As if it’s not you, the one suffering, the one tortured, because he’s been messing with you, shaking your insides upside down, baiting and lightening up sparkles but refusing to feed you accordingly the way you need to. As if he’s not the only one inflicting himself the torment, refusing to give in for reasons you don’t understand.
Until something clicks in his brain, finally, common sense meeting desires, his mouth fall from your neck and straight to your nipple, kissing hungrily. Licking and sucking and nibbling, moaning almost as much as you do. Once both your nipples are swollen and a pretty flush, he senses your sensitivity, deciding to drop from the buds, meaning to cover the whole supple surface of your tits with lovely kisses and infuriating grazing of the teeth.
The position is awkward. Him bent in half, you on your tiptoes, trying to ease the access for him while simultaneously ordering your wobbly legs to keep on supporting you. The task is not easy, so poorly executed he gets tired of it in seconds, big hands seizing you to pick you up, holding you close, your legs wrap around his waist, so comfortable, so natural, somehow more convenient for him, he doesn’t seem to be in the least amount of effort as he feasts gladly on your chest. His hands stay on your ass, fingers digging, occasionally dragging you up and down his front where you can feel him hot and hard against your centre, a few times squeezing and tearing your cheeks apart. If this is not what paradise tastes like, then you don’t know what is.
It’s perfect pleasure, pure satisfaction.
But of course, you’re human.
Soon, it’s not enough, anymore. And more and more you want and you need. You can feel your cunt clench around nothing, drops of honey dripping from the side hems of your panties crotch. He’s so good to you, lavishing and ravishing your breast like it’s the only job he’s ever wanted but you want more. Maybe you’ll let him worship you another day. Place the kisses and paint the marks he wants on every inch of your body.
Right now you need release. Any kind. He’s pent you up to a point, you can’t handle the idea of not letting any steam out.
You’re about to get bitchy again. Getting saltier and saltier at every empty-handed clench of your cunt. If you don’t take a step now, make him take the step, you’ll turn into a sex-deprived gremlin again, this time worse than earlier, and it’s not a good look you wish for him to see -again.
“Jungkook?” You can sense him perk up at the call of your name, even though he doesn’t stop his ministrations. He hums against your nipple, held tight in between his wet lips. “Fuck, Guk- just- uh- your bed.” No reaction. You suspect he didn’t even listen. “Take me to your bed, Jungkook!” It’s the harsh pull on his hair that’s made him look up and pay attention to your words. Like an obedient puppy with unmatching dark eyes, he nods, swirling around to head for his bed, carrying you effortlessly like you're not a full-grown adult hanging from his neck.
You’re about to meet his sheets. You’re about to get ravished and treated so, so right. You can tell from all the promises his hooded gaze has no shame sharing. Anticipation is killing you. The tenderness and affection along with the evident intense lust you read in him are killing you. Your back is just about to meet his sheets when it just doesn’t. He’s holding you centimètres away from it, eyebrows frowned, preoccupation taking over his face and covering everything sexy that fitted it so prettily.
“I can’t have you on this bed.”
“Wha- why?!” Maybe you yelled a bit. He winces. You don’t know what you look like right now, lust turned into pure fury, you just hope if you feel and talk like a gremlin, you still don’t look like one.
“Have you seen it? It’s not even a bed, it’s just a pile of dirty rags probably a thousand years old-“ It’s sweet and annoying, infuriating beyond belief. He’s blushing too. One foot hitting with spite the pile of rags he was given to use as a bed.
You want to cry.
“Why are you so fucking difficult, Jungkook?” You spit his name with venom, forehead hitting his shoulder, defeated as you feel. He’s hugging you closer, hands less sexual and just warm tenderness as they slide along your spine, pressing you closer if it’s even possible. Feels nice. But your panties, the soaked ruined cloth that is uncomfortably sticking to your cunt are reminding you you’re hating this moment.
“I don’t mean to. I- you deserve better than-“
“But you sleep on it!”
“I can sleep anywhere, it doesn’t matter but you’re too pretty to be laying on this.” You huff at that. Too frustrated to just take the compliment and let it shake your belly with the butterflies in it like a kid would a Christmas snow globe. “I’m sorry.”
“Should apologise to yourself, why you’re sleeping in it if it’s shit? Don’t you deserve better?”
He can tell how you feel. You’re kind enough to let everything clear as day, written in a language he mastered in so little time, an intimate one he’s only allowed to see. He sees the disappointment. Also the ease you’re feeling. The lust that’s not left. The despair and frustration tinted by dark shades of anger. You look cute as hell. All pouty and mushy in his arms. Whining and complaining and so angry yet fingers gently caressing the nape of his neck. He can tell you’re bitchy, feel like arguing but probably want something else even more.
“Wouldn’t it be better to use your bed instead? I saw it yesterday, looks nice.” He suggests, kissing your jaw to relax you.
“It is, it’s a troll size.” You lean your head back, giving more space for his mouth, mumbled words hardly falling from your pout.
“I saw that.” He says, amusement teasing the corner of his eyes.
“Professor Jeon!” The amusement completely annihilates from his eyes, his pretty rosy lips falling in a shocked o, along with all colours leaving his face. You gasp silently, wide eyes matching his.
There’s a terrifying succession of thuds shaking the little cabin, the call of his name again. Slowly, he releases you from his arms, making sure you meet the ground without emitting the least noise.
“I told you I had a class-“ he mimes with his mouth rather than speak.
“You never told me that?”
“I mean- I tried to but you wouldn’t- you wouldn’t list-“
“Professor Jeon?” More knocking on the door. You both hear the man outside mumbling to himself, a little commotion and you can tell, he’s trying to find a way to reach the window to have a look through it. Jungkook jumps on it, tearing the curtain in front of the blurry glass.
“Yes- uhm-“
“Are you okay? The class is ready for today’s demonstration! We’re all excited about that Opaleye you’ve talked ab-“
“Hagrid, I- I need to- finish get ready so- if you and the class could wait- f-five seconds?”
You are fuming. Glaring at him with the meanest eyes you own. Smoke probably coming out of every orifice, desperately trying to leave out some steam or else you’ll be spitting fire better than his fucking pets do. Tucking your boobs back in your bra, tearing your teeshirt back down, probably looking as miserable as you feel.
He’s apologetic though. One hand holding yours between gentle fingers, massaging kindly the palm of your hand. Looking guilty as hell, pouty with the watery eyes, a sweetheart.
And you like him. The realisation hits you once again, full force, you like him a whole lot. Frustration fading into compliance, leaving you helpless, about to forgive him wholeheartedly and suggest to come back later when his schedule sees it more fitting.
“Alrighty! I’ll show them that cute baby dragon I see over there-“
Jungkook winces visibly. Even you can tell it’s not a good idea to leave Hagrid alone with kids and dragons unsupervised, his reputation precedes him, unfortunately. He doesn’t hint a gesture towards the door though. Observing you with attentive eyes, the same from earlier, as if he’s trying to memorise your traits with utter accuracy, knowing he won’t be seeing it for at least the whole day ahead. You should suggest he takes a picture, it’ll last longer. But you’re overwhelmed with a vague wave of sadness, suddenly, so close to the parting from him and so unready for it.
You don’t know if he sees it, senses it, if when he kisses you hard on the mouth it’s to make himself feel better or if it’s just for you. It works in any case. Your heart filled up as it’d been, with lust and affection and something that can’t be but is so akin to love.
“I wish you didn’t have a class-“
“Do you want me?” He asks in a breathless whisper. The question is ridiculous, the answer being so fucking evident, you’d hit him to the side of the head if you didn’t like so much how intimate, how sexy he sounds murmuring against your lips.
You nod. Realising as you try and fail that he’s stolen all air from you -and probably a few other things like your heart and sanity along the way.
“Can you be quiet?” His hands have already dropped from your face, attached to the hem of your pants, hurried fingers proceeding to open them up. The situation in its entirety with the environment, with the people outside at most a dozens of meters away, the awkwardness, the everything can’t hit you, can’t take a sensible shape. No information able to be treated because of him, his everything, the whole lot that he is, infuriating, dizzying, shattering, moving. All you know is that you can be quiet, you can be whatever he wants you to be right this instant.
“I’m sorry for being so terrible at all that-“ He starts, sincere but light, amused, comfortable with you -and that’s the nicest look you’ve seen on him. “I’ll make it up to you until later when I- can really make it up to you.”
It’s funny to see the two facades of his personality clash like that. He’s apologising, red in the cheeks, but also a mouth, reshaped by a confident fatal crooked smirk, stating promises as facts.
How does he know he’ll make it up to you? How does he know he’ll make you feel good enough you’ll forgive his clumsiness?
“I’ll need more than five seconds, Jeon.” That makes him chuckle silently, shaking his head and squinting in defiance.
“You’ll need hardly more than that.” He says, dragging your pants and your panties at once, down a few centimetres.
Heat burns your face as air hits your centre. It feels shockingly exposing even if he can't see much from up there, with your shirt down, with little to no light coming from the curtained window and his large hand, that doesn’t wait for a second, slipping in between your thighs, covering your mound instantly as his mouth covers yours.
He’s right. This fucker.
You don’t time but you know he makes you come incredibly fast.
First starting by sliding a lone finger in your heat to quickly realise that you are soaking wet, sloppy to be exact, perfectly able to fit at least two and probably a third one easily. And he obliges so, filling the torturous void, fucking you with them slowly, dragging the pad of his rough fingers along your walls, teasing your sensitive entrance with lovely, lovely strokes. The sound -and he has to slow down to keep it quiet enough- is obscene. You don’t remember the last time you’ve been so fucking turned on. Dripping down your legs and unto his hand.
He spends only a few minutes on that, on fucking you nice and open when you both know he won’t even be able to fill you as you both wish he would until, well, some undefined time. It should be revolting, that thought, sort of a quick, immediate satisfaction for a long term painful wait.
But then his fingers leave your hole to migrate to your clit, as engorged as ever, as it’s not been for a long, long time, all of this for this stupid crush, from this stupid man, from his kisses and his scent, and his purposefully neglecting to give it attention. A few strokes only, fast and hard, messy and desperate with a sweet pet name he’s never used but fits so nice from his lips press to your ear and you’re coming, hole kissing emptiness, it sucks but you're invaded with so much content, legs shaking, heart beating fast, remnants of the orgasm reshaping the whole stance of your body, feels like you've just moved in an entirely new one, and head dizzy, feeling in love.
“Told you.” He’s chuckling to himself. Full of himself as he wipes you clean with a teeshirt he just picked up from an open travelling bag.
“Shut up, Jungkook.” You groan. One hand holding onto his bicep while his owns diligently tie back your pants, fixing you like nothing happened. The orgasm has been so good, it devoided you of all strength and energy you may have had.
You need to leave. Or more precisely, he needs to leave and meet the class, take them away probably in the forest so that you can escape and flee back to the castle. It’s inevitable.
You close your eyes for a second. Trying to empty your head, focus on breathing properly again, hiding how upset you feel. It’s not that dramatic. Surely, you’ll catch him again, today probably, later, tonight, but you feel so upset. Like a little girl. You don’t want to leave him yet.
Jungkook calls your name softly. You open your eyes, biting on your lip to contain all the emotions wanting to spill out right under his nose.
“Do you like me?” This time you have to throw a punch to his side -it hurts your knuckles more than it does him- because how dare he ask and look so unsure of the answer. “Well, I don’t know- I don’t- you never know with women and- and like- I- you never said-“
“I’ve liked you for two years, Jeon Jungkook.”
“Two...?”
You see the gears rolling, slowly, unsettled by big knots of confusion. You’re sweet, you’re generous and you just came in his hand, literally, so you have no issue admitting -with only a slight blush on the apple of your cheeks, “When you first came for the Triwizard Tournament.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t-“ Again with the apologies. With the looking so pitiful, with the guilt, with the him being so lovely of a man, especially when he’s so big and covered in all those warlike scars.
“Well you had this in your eyes anyway, would have been hard to notice me.” You joke, stealing one of the locks hiding behind his ear and tickling his eyelids with it. He scoffs, smiling before he slips it back where it was.
“Thanks to Taehyung, I have a hair tie now. So that I can see you better.” He’s beaming, staring at you fondly, it’s insufferable and you look away, embarrassed as ever because those big eyes being just yours, admiring you -for what too?- are hard to handle. You need practice.
“Is it your dragons teaching you all this cheesy garbage-“ He cackles at that, not even letting you finish and you’re loving the idea that it’s you causing that. “You need better wingpets.” He laughs even harder, you’re grinning even harder until a screech, ear-splitting, resonates through the whole surrounding forest. For a second you wonder if it’s not just Tina throwing a fit because she heard how her master is having so much fun with someone else than her but there’s a commotion following and what sounds like a seventeen-year-old Slytherin boy losing his shit, yelling and crying, and alarm takes over Jungkook's face.
“Can I see you tonight?” He asks in a hurry and you nod. “I’ll meet you in your room after I trained-“ A big smooch to your lips. “Actually maybe before, I don’t know, I-“
“Just go, Jungkook.” His eyes say something his mouth can’t, you can read the trepidation, as he sprints to the door, gaze not leaving you.
You can’t be sure a hundred per cent but you’re almost certain he just told you that he really likes you too and suddenly, you don’t feel as upset as you did, knowing you will find him back later.
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« Thanks for earlier. »
For a second, you don’t know what he’s referring to. Until he points a finger towards his crotch, a little flush showing on his cheeks, where his hair doesn’t reach. 
That makes you laugh. You shrug your shoulders, waving his thank away because of course, you wouldn’t let him run in the middle of a class full of teenagers with a rock hard cock showing through his pants. 
Too focused on the possible catastrophe happening in his front yard, he didn’t seem to realise, if any discomfort or pain ever existed he couldn’t acknowledge it but you surely did. 
After having it pressed to your crotch, having felt its hardness and its heat, there’s no way you’d be able to just stop thinking about it. Then in the cabin, with your tingling cunt and sticky panties, and the whole day ahead, no matter how far away from him you were, physically and supposedly mentally, it’s just all you could think about. 
Blushing incessantly at the least stimulating moments. Gagging back giggles whenever a word, a touch, a smile of his recalled itself to you, and this in front of confused and suspicious eyes.
The whole day was a pain. It simply wouldn’t roll fast enough. 
Now here you are, standing in front of him, not recognising him fully. He’s hiding behind his hair again. He’s quiet and awkward like he too forgot how to talk to you. 
Maybe that’s what you get for meddling with him so quickly. Suppose you get separated for a short dozen of hours, he becomes a stranger again. 
It’s an awful feeling. Seems like maybe you made it all up. The comfort, the noncommittal love and adoration, the ease, the lust, the warmth. Maybe all of it was just a hazy dream. Made up yesterday evening by alcohol and this early morning by fatigue. 
Here you are sober and empty of any other commitment and you can’t picture how you could have gotten to that special place and how to find it back if it ever existed.
“You’ve let your hair down.” You simply say. Maybe it’s your way to point out aloud how you feel like you’ve been thrown a thousand steps back. He’s hiding behind his hair, being unreachable again. 
“Yeah, I just- they were all staring so I felt awkward-“ You mean to interrupt, let him know because you’re sure that he doesn’t (the boy from the bar yesterday didn’t know) that if they were staring it’s because he is that beautiful and certainly no one has expected that. “I wanted to tie it back for now but I lost the little thingy.” You take a step forward, closing some of the distance between him standing against the wall and you in the middle of your room. The more you hear his soft voice, the more you recognise him. “I hope Taehyung won’t be mad, I can buy a new one for him.” You could probably point out that Jungkook probably did not lose anything. That probably Taehyung used a charm and like any of those, the object you didn’t pay for, that materialised itself from thin air, simply disappeared after some time. Maybe you’ll tell him later. Right now you’re close to him again, so close you can catch a glimpse of an eye under the pretty locks. Your ears recognise him, your nose too, and you’re impatient to see if your fingers would too. 
You reach up, catching his fringe in between your fingertips and dragging them behind his ears, opening the silky curtain and smiling to yourself, eyes almost blurry with emotion, when you see his handsome face now on display. With the pretty brown eyes, the rosy lips, the cut eyebrow and that scar on his cheek, just above his timid dimple that shows up only when it wants. 
“Hi.” 
“Hello.” He squeaks out, flushing. “I must look ridiculous-“ He gestures you his hair your holding hostage behind his ears, taking advantage to caress his soft skin with the pad of your thumbs. 
“You look cute.” He does. He looks a bit awkward, like a boy who just finds himself with too much hair and tries to do something about it. “Very cute.” You add, beaming when you see his embarrassment grow. 
“Liar.”
He catches one of your wrists in his hand, bringing it to his lips to kiss the thin skin of the inner part. Lips soft, eyes soft, voice tender. “I thought about you a lot today...” Somehow he found you back too. He feels comfortable saying this while you’re sure he’s not used to it. Therefore even if you hate it, you can’t help but admit it. That you too, obviously, could only think about him the whole day. “I’m not here to stay forever, ___.” 
Your airy smile flatters until it disappears completely. 
Way to ruin the mood. 
He senses it. Press the hand leaving his face back against his cheek, pressing the second one to his mouth again as if he could bring you back to him and forget all about what he just implied. 
Obviously. 
Obviously, his life is not here, in Hogwarts. He’s not a professor, he doesn’t want to become one, he’s here for a project that has a defined limited time - Mrs Umbridge made sure of it. He’s an adventurer anyway. He only knows forest and lands and mountains and mythical creatures, extreme weathers and dangerous places. 
Obviously, you two only properly met a few days ago, only started to get to know each other less than 24 hours ago, it’s too soon to be in love, too soon to be so attached that a separation would feel that devastating. But even if you’re not, you feel in love. You feel wonderful in his arms, under his gaze, with his pretty smiles lighting on you and his sweet voice rocking your heart. 
It’s so upsetting to think about. You don’t want to. Just him hardly bringing it up makes you so upset you could cry. 
“But I- I know that you know that already. Maybe it’s clear for you that- we can’t-“ The more he talks the less sense he makes. Every syllabus seems dragged out of his mouth. He struggles so bad, your hand distractingly playing with the neck of his shirt, only because his hand wouldn’t let it go, you can feel his beating heart through the thick vein of his neck. “What I mean to say is- I don’t know what this- could mean to you. If it means anything or it’s just- like- fun,” Your eyebrow ticks at that. How dare he? “either way I don’t mind-“ He’s quick to add. “Really! Whatever you want is fine. I just mean to say that we can’t- I mean- at some point, I’ll be very very far away so-“
“Does it matter now, Jungkook?” 
The whole dilemma is not that hard to solve, on your part anyway. There’s nothing you can do about his future departing, is it? All that’s under your control is either you decide to indulge in him, have him the way you crave to, feed in this lovely thing that’s started blooming yesterday evening between you two and later on, deal with the heartbreak you’ll surely have once he leaves. Or will you deny yourself this, still get the heartbreak but way earlier on and have to nurture it for probably less long but in this peculiar case, through a thick coat of regrets. 
You hate to think about it all. You hate to think about a time when he’s not going to be around, not even only appearing at the end of a hallway, not even noticing you, not doing anything special except existing and breathing the same air as yours. 
It’s clear for you. He’s right here, right now, literally right under your hands, there’s no doubt in your mind that you’re going to consume as much as him as you possibly can, if only he’ll let you. 
He looks worried, concerned. Not on the same page as you maybe. Guilty too. While it’s not his fault. It’s your own stupid, unpractical dumbass’s fault for falling for the only guy that lives like a fucking wild animal and is probably inept to leave his wild savage life for more than a couple of months at a time. 
An attempt nibble to his bottom lip. Your eyes shut close slowly as to not squeeze a droplet menacing to fall from your eye. He sighs deeply, leaning into your mouth for a moment. 
“I guess it doesn’t have to matter now.” He decides, pressing a new kiss to the relieved smile growing on you. 
"Cause you had a few things to show me, I believe..." It's subtle. Sort of. The words may be but the eyes you give him are not, demanding, minxy. Your intentions are no secret to him and you can tell in the way he smirks, kissing you again, this time his warm palms holding your cheeks still. He's made up his mind too.
It's all you needed to wash it all behind. Everything that could be too heavy for your shoulders or your heart to carry right now. Anything that could affect this moment, tarnish it, make it lesser than it could be.
It just has to be good. Only good and nothing else. His hands everywhere, on your ass, squeezing, on your breast, fondling. He seems to have remembered what you like. He's not withholding, he's not overly gentle. He's still awfully tender, awfully sweet because it's just the essence of his person, you feel it in every breath you steal from him. The way he carries you so softly, sitting you down on his lap as careful as ever as to not have you tip over and fall off of the bed.
When you're so greedy and almost rude in comparison, lavishing in the position he just offered you, groaning when you feel his thick thighs stretching yours wide, grinding already, sliding forward to feel his hardness anew against you. You touch him everywhere because his body feels surreal. Hard and taut and skin boiling even through his clothes. Your hands disorganized, impatient, start by unbuckling his belt to then jump to the hem of his shirt, dragging the cloth up and off of him.
You hardly catch a glimpse of fair honey skin before the light is shut off suddenly. There's the very recognizable thud of a wand hitting the wooden floor that hints at you that he's the one who did turn it off and you want to whine and complain and maybe even argue a little, and maybe more, enough for him to turn it back on but his wet mouth is sucking at your collarbone, the indignant scold dies into an insignificant, trembling whimper.
He lets you undress him. Even if you're missing the visual, you decide you'll enjoy the touch. His skin is so soft, too soft in a few spots where you guess he's been hurt, uneven, little bumpy traits, here and there, like the trace of a road on a map, scattered all over his chest, his shoulders, his arms. He feels wonderful under your fingers. Hot and soft. He smells heavenly, encaging you as he does, you're bathing in his scent, earthy, smoky, masculine.
You have the push him away, a hand on his jaw, another on his chest to have him quit mouthing at your skin and lay his back down on the mattress. In the very dim light, you catch his shiny eyes, wide and intense as they observe you in the dark. You lean over, pressing kisses you hope as loving as his on his skin, starting from his cheek, you feel moving under your lips from him smiling, descending to his hard belly without missing a spot.
Your mouth turns extra delicate when your lips meet uneven skin, as if you could hurt him, as if he hasn't been long healed and your lips aren't the last thing that could ever hurt him, it makes him gasps and sighs though, each time, you feel his abs tighten under you, his thighs stiffen.
"Am I hurting you?" You ask quietly, even if you doubt it.
"Yeah-" He sighs and you freeze. "I mean no! No, no, don't worry."
"Are you sure?" You insist and he groans in defeat. You might be palming his cock through his pants, which you should be patient enough to wait until he answers properly if you'd honestly like an answer. But the rock hard member has been poking your thigh for too long and you can't help it. He's so responsive too, concealing poorly his groans and his moans, his whole body and cock twitchy under you.
You're close to giving him more. To give him fully what he came for. Nails grazing with intent the line where the hem of his underwears lay but not moving down further, hinting at something more but not giving in yet.
It's exhilarating to have him so docile under you, waiting, hardly patiently, for you to give him what he wants and you can tell, from how hard he is, that he really does want it. He sucks his breath in one more time, loudly, and you snickers above him, excited as you are.
Until he decides it's enough. Raising one thigh fast and hard, pushing at your ass, making you tip over with a squeal. He catches you with the cheeky chuckle you've grown to adore, rolling you unto your back so he can hover over you. You feel so tiny under him, with his strong thick arms encasing you, the line of his wide shoulders barely decipherable in the dark. Your hand follows the line, appreciating him to be so willing to be touched, always leaning onto your fingers. When it stops at his chest, your fingers mean to play a little but you're stopped in your track by the thudding hitting your palm. It takes you a hot second to realise it's his heart, being so loud and agitated, so expressive from where it's hidden. Of course, someone as reserved as him would have a heart that vocal.
"Your heart's beating so hard." You comment quietly. You don't mean to embarrass him. You don't even mean to reverse the power button hanging between the both of you. Yours in your own chest has to be causing a similar ruckus. But it's his that matters right now. You can't get over the fact that it's for you.
"Stop teasing me." He grumbles. He's not even vexed. He's embarrassed, but you hear the slim smile in his voice, a sheepish one.
"I'm not. You should feel mine." He hums against your mouth, then backs away laughing a bit.
"Smooth."
"It wasn't-" You sigh in defeat. It was not a subtle attempt to have him take care of your tits. Seriously. He's too glad to comply though, you're not one to complain.
You only have a vague notion of time passing, of things progressing. Somehow a second he's suckling on your nipples through the thin material of your top and the next, both of you are naked, panting in each other's face. Your nipples erect and still wet, occasionally rubbing against his chest, two of his thick fingers pumping in between your folds, a third one occasionally teasing the entrance, hinting at a stretch you're so greedy to feel even though you're not sure you can take; your hands wrapped around his shaft, pumping furiously, squeezing hard to have him hiss and curse against your lips, with your thumb teasing the slit of the tender slick head.
His free hand is at your neck, resting there, fingertips pressing in your skin, his thumb toying with your swollen bottom lip whenever he's biting too hard on his own to kiss you properly.
"I'm close..." You whimper, nibbling on the flesh of his thumb. He smiles vaguely at you, hooded eyes unfocused, eyebrows scrunched from pleasure. "I want you, Jungkook."
"Like now?" Fuck. You really have to like the guy a lot. He dares stop fucking you too, all attention now driven to your face. You don't say anything, your eyes telling enough. He nods to himself. "Okay, now. But uh-"
"Jungkook, sometimes you're half-useless." You try not to be mean but you can't help some snarkiness to escape. You have patience. You have a lot of it. But he just makes everything so difficult. How can you be sin and temptation embodied and at the same time, be so fucking clueless? He's like the cure but also the disease.
You roll over on your bed, grabbing a condom from your bedside table that a certain friend I don't need to name provided you with, to then face him again, brandishing the foil packet in his face.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to-" He seems confused for a second, struggling to get the thing open and you wonder if it's been as long as it's been for you since the last time he's been with someone like that, or if it's been even longer. "but-" Growing even more impatient, you jump on your knees, kneeling next to him, taking the thing from him and tearing it open for him. "You're, like, a lot."
You stay silent for probably too long, frozen, hit by his words probably too intensely.
"In a good way! In a- in a, you're- I like you a lot and it makes me all-" He's talking too much you decide. Stuttering the sweetest things you have a hard time hearing while you're both naked in your bed, so near to get even closer, even more intimate to each other in a way you're too excited about to handle any extra pandering -especially given, you know exactly what he meant. Who would have thought? Jeon Jungkook talking so much you'd have to kiss him quiet.
"How do you like it?" He asks in a whisper, kissing your jaw in a way that makes you shudder. He's making you lightheaded, so dizzy, with the stupid jumps between his sexy lust-filled self and the adorable clueless dude he can also be.
"Just- however you'll have me." You answer, ignoring blatantly that it doesn't mean much.
So he decides. Laying you down on your back, hovering you. The thought that maybe you are made for each other hits you full face then, because that's exactly how you'd like him to have you. Just like earlier, so close, so intimate, sort of intimidating, dominating too. All yours and you, even more, his, with his soft locks caressing your forehead, lips so close you hardly have to make any effort to reach, not that he lets you have your mouth for your own for too long anyway, every few seconds, claiming it with lingering kisses tasting of greed. You know you're in trouble as soon as the very tip of his cock squeezes in. It's somehow a tight fit, even with his earlier ministrations, even with the ones from this morning that made you feel loose all fucking day. Jungkook only fucks you with the head of his shaft for a while, feeling you so tight around him, savouring the sensation but also worried he'd hurt you if he were to go further.
You're on edge. On edge of a devastating orgasm, already too fucking close, and even if you could blame it on the foreplay, on your hormones or whatever else, he'd know. He'd know it's because of him, because of how much you like him, of how good he makes you feel, how much he turns you on.
You don't really care. He's already panting in your ear, groaning and moaning with tight jaws about how good you feel and how pretty you are, when he's only half of the way inside and that's more than enough. It's kind of too much. Kind of impossible to handle.
It's a mewl to the shell of his ear and the digging of your nails in his firm ass that push him further and balls deep inside you. It feels like discovering new places within yourself, places you haven't reach before alone or with someone else, brings a rush of excitement to your whole body that translates in a vice tight clench around him.
He fucks you so good, it feels so nice, his cock was made for you. His rhythm steady, rather slow but powerful, sending you a tiny bit higher on the bed at each thrust, with one arm slid behind your back, his hand wrapped around the back of your neck to hold you still enough. It's little to no effect but it drives you crazy, having him own you like that. From all those places, his dick, his thigh pressing yours higher, his hands, his mouth, his words. Bewitching, he is. Everything feels and sounds and touches him, the air you breath tastes like him.
You wish it'd last forever but it can't. Like everything that tastes that wondrous.
"Jungkook, I think- uh- gonna come." You lie because you don't think, you know you're about to come even if it's been a couple of minutes since he's started. Conveniently, the moon chooses this very moment to come out of wherever she was hiding, shining right through the only window of your suite and hitting him right in the face to bring clear light to him and to his grin, the smug grin you've only caught glimpses of. Your nails dig deeper in his flesh, he gasps lightly and bites on his lip but the smirk doesn't leave, even though it looks ridiculous with his heavy droopy gaze, his red cheeks and his heaving. He's as affected as you are. And that's that precise revelation that throws you over the edge. You mewl aloud, turned euphoric with how incredible it feels to have him keep fucking you through your orgasm, with his cock dragging along your tight, sensitive entrance with his movements.
Soon he follows. You don't exactly catch the moment, too lost in your own euphoria to decipher when his begins, but you feel the change in his thrusts, sloppy and harsher, skin slapping louder in the quiet room and once you've both bathed fully in the pleasure, came back to the now calmer, quieter Earth, you realise your ear rings with the ghost of a raw, low scream that certainly was his.
Fuck, you need to hear this again but this time with your full, undivided attention.
But another time.
Right now, you're half dead. Your hearts have just started coming down from their high. With him laying almost entirely on you. The most of his weight he safely pressed to your side but he's clinging to you, the round tip of his nose buried in your neck, hands holding you tight against him and legs intertwined with yours. Your hand has found its way to his hair, the ungodly mess, fingers gently massaging his scalp, rolling the curls in between.
"So warm..." He hums against your skin, almost purrs. You smile lazily. "Never wanna leave."
"You don't have to." It's the exhaustion that renders your filter ineffective. You know you shouldn't have said that. You know even more so when he doesn't say anything back. "For now, I mean." You don't even know how much of this is a lie. If you really were only thinking about this moment, this night or if the future you both know too well, ugly but very real just waiting its moment to play out, was also on your mind. You're too tired and concretely, fucked out, to even think properly.
"I still have four months." It's a poor consolation. You don't mean to spoil it all. After having spent such a precious, wondrous time with him, you don't want to fuck it all up but you can't help your heart from squeezing painfully in your chest, your throat from struggling to swallow down the heavy ball that's lodged up there. Jungkook senses it. You know he does by the way he holds you tighter, pressing one of those kisses, the most tender ones, at the corner of your lips. "We'll figure something out." He says with an assertion you didn't expect and don't know the origins of. Yet, you trust him and the lump in your throat decides to leave for now.
Somehow, persuaded that you and your heart are safe with him.
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A/N: i can’t believe i finished this fucking monster. i need sleep. i’m sorry if it’s not super well edited, i did the 33 pages in one go and yeah. also it’s been so long since i wrote actual explicit smut, i have no idea how it turned out. 😳 let me know :)
to anyone who’s made it this far, thank you so, so, so much. you have my infinite gratefulness and i sincerely hope you enjoyed it.
i’m off to sleep, i hope you are having a wonderful day. stay safe, lots of lots of love 💜
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myfeetkeepdancing · 3 years
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Graduation Beach Party   |  Peter Parker x Male!Reader
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Request: So in this plot the Midtown Seniors Graduates (a.k.a Peter, Male!Reader, Ned, MJ, Betty, Flash, Teachers maybe, etc.) are having a Graduation Beach party to Huwaii organized by the Midtown school. It's kinda like the movie Spiderman: Far From Home, but different. I think I saw a post about Peter being insecure about his weird rip body but reader find it hot. So basically Peter is to scared/shy to show off his body with his shorts swim suit when he's going to swim with people around, even more scared/shy when his crush reader is going to see him like this. I mean, everyone will be shocked to see Peter that has a rip body even reader but found it attractive. @coledrawsstuff​
Words: 3301
A/N: I wasn’t sure how graduation parties went, so this is my take on it 😉
Peter dreaded this day would come. In more than one way. He wished he'd protested to the idea of going to Hawaii. Hawaii wasn't bad. Not in the slightest. But the plans that were going around scared him in the simplest ways. And the moment he feared most was just around the corner. Laying flat out on his bed, eyes plastered to the ceiling, thoughts far beyond the room. Within a few hours, the final party would be taking place right outside the hotel. From his room, he could hear staff preparing. Bringing out the barbeque, drinks, and all that was needed.
"Dude." Ned said while pulling Peter's fingers from his lips. "Don't bite your fingernails."
"Sorry… I' m-..." Shaking his head, followed by a long sigh, Peter raised himself onto the edge of the bed. Catching the last few rays of sunshine over the balcony as the sun began to set on the horizon. "I don't know. I'm not much of a party guy. Maybe I-"
"No, Peter!" Ned said, cutting him off mid-sentence. "Don't you think about it! This is the greatest day of our lives. I mean, look at this place. Look at those beautiful dancers out there." He said while staring down onto the beach, watching the scarcely dressed staff girls carrying torches and flower necklaces. "Go...Go… change…" Ned mumbled, trying to reach for Peter behind him, while being completely captivated by the girls. "-and get ready for the party."
 "Do you think…"
 "Sorry!" He exclaimed. "See you in a bit, Peter." Ned darted for the door past all the luggage on the floor. "That cute girl just winked at me. I'm so going to ask her to dance with me."
Peter listened to the door close softly into the lock as his mind wandered away. Peter found himself lost in his own thoughts again. Worrying about things no other kid of his age ever thought about. Every since becoming Spider-Man, his body had changed. At that age, everyone does. But Peter changed more than average. He grew stronger, and gained an additional mass of muscles. All he could think about was how he could explain it. Yet, he couldn't. His excuses always revolved around this internship and playtime with Ned and you. He'd never even set foot in a gym. Let alone exercise. Flash was bound so something. And he always timed such remarks in front of the group.
Peter felt incredibly insecure about all of it. The way he looked. The way he felt. He couldn't explain anything. And that made it worse with not being able to respond well to Flash's taunts and annoying quips. Even thinking about going on that photo shirtless made him cringe.
"Peter?" He whipped around, feeling caught as he heard you knocking on the door. "Ned said you were here."
"I ehm… yes...." Rubbing the crook of his neck. Panic hitting him as he sat there. Running over to open the door to you. Peter felt his heart skip more than one beat. Seeing you standing there. No shirt, just swimming shorts and slippers. Peter had a crush on you for a long time and found himself struggling. Day in, day out. Finding the last few months even harder than it already was.
"You ok?" You asked, following Peter into the room. "You seem... on edge?"
"Did Ned say anything?!" He quipped as he turned around. "Did he?"
"No-no, you're just sweating all over." Pointing to the glistening on his forehead. "Let's jump into the sea before the picture. Still have plenty time."
"I forgot my swimming shorts." He said. "I... c-can't..."
"Oh, well I got a spare one."
"W-W...What? You bring a s-spare?" He stuttered, cheeks turning red as he began to feel the nerves in his system go in overdrive.
"Yeah, I'll get 'em. I'll be right back."
Peter had just dug his own grave even deeper now. He was trembling all over at the thought of wearing his crush swimming shorts. Hastily walking back and forth, hands in his hair. This time he couldn't think of a lie or a bad excuse.
"Here, it may be a little bit too big. But if you tie up the strings, you'll be fine." Peter sat at the edge of his bed, looking at the colorful shorts, sighing deeply.
"(Y/N)..." He said in a low voice. "I'm not… I… I don't feel comfortable about it."
"Don't worry." You chuckled. "I washed it before packing."
"That's not it." He jumped to his feet, walking back and forth with a hand combing through his curls. "I… d-" Shaking his head without finishing his sentence.
"What's wrong…?"
"I don't want this photo to happen. I don't want any of it!" He yelled out angrily in a waterfall of words. "I hate it! The whole thing. And-"
"Peter!" With both hands, you grab his shoulders. "Calm down! What's going on? Did something happen?" His big puppy eyes stared in yours for a moment before rolling his head down.
"I… can't say." Pulling himself free from your grasp. "You-… Y-You wouldn't understand." Plopping himself on the edge of the bed.
"If you don't say it, I certainly won't." You crouch onto your knees, hoping to level yourself with him, catch a glimpse of his eyes. "Please let me, Peter. We'll keep it between us, if you like."
Peter felt the butterflies buzzing in his stomach. How he loved you. Sitting in front of you. Everything he ever wanted, so close. He wanted to tell, but not risk it. Yet, and the end of all this, there was a good chance they wouldn't see each other again. The thought of it alone brought him to the verge of tears. For so many years, Peter had found a friend in you; and more. The things he had in common, the laughter, the jokes, the science. Even the simplest things. Through the years, he had grown fond of you. And in his eyes, the biggest mistake of all, a growing passion for you. To such an extent, he didn't want to sleep in the same room in the hotel. Be near you for too long.
"I need you to be honest (Y/N)." He looked up at you, the red circling his eyes. "Promise me."
"Peter… I…" Your heart skipped a beat seeing his eyes watering like that. "Of course. I will. I promise." You said resolutely. "Always."
"I-I… I... don't feel comfortable... going without... a shirt on." He mumbled. Even as he said the words, he felt embarrassed. "It's… It's... difficult to understand. And everyone's out there. And… And… y-you a-are..." Peter buried his face into his hands, overcome by shame and worries.
With Peter, you always had to choose your words carefully. He wasn't quick to anger, but he is smart. And to convince Peter to do something, you either had to have a well-thought-through plan. Or trick him. You couldn't win an argument with him. "What is bothering you? Is it a scar?"
"N-No… It's different..." He sighed. Hunching together more and more. You sat in silence, wondering what troubled him. "I shouldn't look like this (Y/N)! Not on my age." He suddenly veered up from the bed. Aggravated and annoyed by his thoughts. "See!?" Lifting the hem of his shirt, revealing abs. You were taken by surprise how well built Peter was for his age. The abs were nicely sculpted and well developed. "Everyone's going to talk about it (Y/N)!" His eyes welled with tears, on the verge of spilling across his cheeks. "I… I can't do it."
You raise yourself back up again and approach Peter. Standing there, sobbing on his own. "Listen to me, Peter." Placing his forehead against your chest, you let your fingers rake through his brown curls. "Hey…" You whisper softly, trying to get his attention. But even in this situation, Peter tried to avoid your gaze. Placing your hands on his cheeks, you gently lift his head upwards. Up close, Peter was really something. Your heart fluttered, as you couldn't help but smile. Not because of his misery. But he looked so cute. Even now. "Peter, listen…" You said softly. His big eyes finally connecting with yours. They were puppy-like. So precious and impossible to not feel his emotions spilling over to you. With the pads of both thumbs, you gently wipe away the tears from his eyes. "Look at me." Finally, able to catch his full attention. "You do... look good, Peter." You said. "You always have."
"Y-You only say that because… I… wanted to h-"
"No-No-No…" You cut him short. "I said that… because I mean it. Now, go change into these shorts. And then let's have a look." Handing him several flower necklaces in various colors and lengths. You pull them back before Peter grabs them. "But only if you want to."
"I don't see the point…" Shaking his head, disappointed. "B-But…Give me a minute." He said, disappearing into the bathroom. The time Peter spent in the bathroom was enough to feel flustered by his image. If the last months weren't already challenging enough. The point where you couldn't stop thinking about was already crossed. Peter looked so good… Both outside, and inside. And that thought kept repeating in your mind over and over again. You had to tell him.
"(Y/N)" Peter calls again. Waking you from your thoughts. Hearing the door unlock. "Can you come look?"
With a mission in mind, you lift yourself from the bed. Feeling the nerves in your legs. You were shaking. And quite heavily so. You take a few deep breaths before you walk into the bathroom and see Peter standing in front of the mirror. Peter's gaze was elsewhere but looking at himself via the mirror. Too shy or scared to do so. Peter looked nervous, and you too felt like it. The moment you stepped in, there wasn't a glimpse shared between the two of you. So you slowly approach, and take a stand behind him.
With a slight shudder in your breathing, you try to focus. Keeping your eyes on the necklaces, with good intention. Peter had simply thrown every size and shape on. But you couldn't help but stare, if only stealing a few glances in-between. His pecs and abs. His shoulders. He looked stunning. His hand grabbed yours, out of the blue, when you tried to remove a necklace. A moment of tension that forced eye contact. It's that glance you give to each other, knowing how close you finally were. You could feel him shaking through and through. Hands warm and sweaty. "Wait." He spurted, slowly letting your hand slip from his fingers, and leaned towards the door, turning the little knob. "First, what do you think?"
"Ehm… Well, locking the door might not-"
"You said you would be honest." He turned around, watching you with big eyes. "Please (Y/N)..."
Your heart pounded in your chest. Blood boiling, but in the right way. It's there you realized you had never seen him without a shirt longer than maybe half a second. In the changing rooms, he'd always take the corner. Change within a heartbeat and disappear. "L-Let's remove some of these…" Removing the necklaces one by one. It felt tense. The way you incidentally brushed your hands against his skin.
Peter looked fantastic. Again those broad shoulders. His chest was big. So well rounded. So full. And that sixpack. Your throat was going dry the more you looked. "You… eh…" A shuddered breath left you, as you wanted to think of something to say. But you couldn't. Captivated by his eyes. That innocence. That sweetness. All the things you were going to say, washed away by his cuteness.
"(Y/N)... ?" Peter asked, feeling his blood pounding between his ears. He was as nervous as ever before. Being this close to his friend. His crush. He could hear his irregular breathing. See the blush on his cheeks. And most importantly, Peter sensed it. Your heartbeat. It began to race the moment they had the discussion earlier. Peter could feel his rapid heartbeat when he laid his head to rest on your chest. But now, it was the only thing he could focus on, as it went crazy. Crazy for him. He knew.
"H-How do… do y-you feel?" You asked with a slight unintentional tremble in your voice. "That's... the most important."
"Say it, (Y/N)" Taking a step closer. "Just be honest with me." His eyes looked red, almost as if on the verge of tears. But it wasn't without a smile, a growing one. "P-Please..."
"I don't know… how to say it… Peter." You mumble, holding both his shoulders and averting your gaze for a moment. Swallowing the lump in your throat. This could be it. After all this time. "But… if this... might be the only last chance… like this… the two of us… then-"
"Who says that?" Peter cut you off. "We still have the ceremonies and-..."
"And then we part-…" Your voice broke as you said the words. The thoughts alone had wrecked you for months. And the nerves had taken their toll. "-we part ways, Peter." Feeling the tears shimmer in your eyes. The fear showed in Peter's eyes. He knew what you were talking about. And he clearly felt the same. "I… I don't want that." You whispered to him. "I… don't…"
"A-Are y-y-you sa-.. s-saying that…"
"I've always liked you, Peter." The heat rushed through your systems. Felt weak in the knees, as you instinctively pulled Peter closer to you. Inches away from his lips. "More than anything. And today hasn't changed a thing. If only… it made it worse. Peter… y-you… make me-"
"I've had a crush on you for so long…" He outright confessed. "-t-t-that I can't think straight when you're around (Y/N)."
"I want you… to know… that… that… I love you, Peter." You stammered. "I love you." Breathing heavily, staring into his puppy eyes. With your trembling hands, you lift a necklace from his chest, and over his head, taking the last step in his direction. Peter pinned between the sink and you. Your noses almost bumping into each other, as you both showed a growing smile. It's a silent exchange of glances. But you both knew what needed to happen. You lean into him, gently landing your lips on Peter's. They're so soft and warm. Inviting to a degree, you've never felt. Your heart fluttered. And for that brief moment, in that kiss, the world fell away around you. Holding his body, leaning into you, meeting Peter's loving eyes up close.
"Peter…" You kissed him again. "You are absolutely beautiful." He was so flustered to a point Peter couldn't say anything. Only staring into your eyes. "With and without clothes." Returning the kiss to you before cradling his head in the crook of your neck. "Inside and outside." Kissing his hair. "Don't you forget that."
"Thank you (Y/N)." He quietly whispered, peppering small kisses to the skin of your neck. His arms holding you in his embrace. It's intimate at first, as the barrier finally had fallen. But as you stand there, together, it felt more than that. Reassuring and calming. Swaying in each other's arms, peppering small kisses onto each other. "I'm so happy…" He said, looking at you with red lines eyes. Rubbing the first tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "I… I… love you (Y/N)." He smiled broadly. "I w-wanted to tell you... B-But… I never knew how to." Hugging himself tightly against you.
"Nor did I, Peter." You admitted. "It kept me awake for so long. The thought of leaving-…" Shaking the thoughts from your head, you tighten your arms around Peter. "Not anymore."
"I love you so much (Y/N)." He smiled. "C-Can… I… kiss you… again?" He stuttered but held back for a moment. "Oh, man... I'm still shaking all over." Looking at his trembling hands. "You make me so nervous… I… I…"
"Please, Peter…" You silenced his lips with your finger. "Kiss me until the nerves go away. And then… keep going." Peter's eyes sparkled as he cupped your cheeks. Taking your lips on his again. This time with confidence and power.
 - - -
 "And… that's how it happened." Peter beamed from ear to ear. Waiting for May's reaction as she held the picture in her hands. It showed the group picture on the beach in Hawaii. With the sun going down in the background, and everyone dressed in the right style. In the corner, top left, back row, stood Peter, together with you. Both their arms around each other. And as the photographer looked for the right moment, Peter had focused his spidey-senses. And leaned in. Kissing you on the cheek, just at the right moment, immortalizing the day forever. Peter had never felt so proud as in that moment.
"Peter! I'm so happy for you." May said. "I love it. It's perfect." And even before Peter realized halfway continuing his story about how funny and loving you are, she had driven her scissors deep into it.
"May!" Peter called, jumping up and over the couch, scaring her in the process. "What're you doing?!"
"Calm down, sweetie." She said with complete calm in her voice, patting Peter on his cheek. And continued to cut further into the picture. "I'm getting rid... of all these people… I don't care about. See?" With great care, she cut a frame around you and Peter.
"But… But… you love these pictures?"
"I do. And this is the best one." She reassured him. "I need these two close to me." Holding the small squared picture of Peter and (Y/N). "You two are the cutest." She smiled, pulling Peter in for a hug. Followed by a kiss on top of his hair. "I love it."
"You haven't met him yet…" Peter said as if she was overestimating you. "He could be-" As he was disturbed by a notification on his phone.
"No, Peter." May continued while he read your message. "He's cute. I can see it. You did good." Ruffling through his hair. "I haven't seen you this happy before." She chuckled as she tried to get Peter's attention again.
Peter felt amazing. He couldn't keep his eyes away from the picture. It held so many good memories for him. Thinking about you made him glow and seeing you in the picture even more. He felt the butterflies stirring his insides again. A blush warming his cheeks. Peter was absolutely crazy about you. "Yeah… He's great." He smiled, biting his lower lip. "But May... he wants to meet up. What do I do?"
"What do you want?"
"Well, I… I... want to be with him, of course… and…" Peter said with a slightly shaken voice. The smile on his face growing as he thought about you. "-and… you know…"
"Of course you want to." May said with a smile, knowing exactly what her little boy meant. "Now, Petey, send him a message back. Let him come over tonight." Pulling Peter's eyes up from the phone as she pulled the boy's face up by his chin.
"But how-?" Peter panicked slightly. "How do I look? How should I look? What if-"
"First Peter." May interrupted, trying to stop him from rambling. "First, you're going tell me all about him." Peter's eyes sparkled as he thought about you. And how you could spend the night together. He wanted nothing more. But how he should approach it, that was another thing. He never dated before. And in a way, he felt like it was a date. May led Peter back to the couch. "Then we're going to come up with something special for tonight. Just for the two of you."
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mediocre-writerr · 3 years
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betty [quinn fabray]
quinn fabray x fem reader
summary: the last part of my quinn fabray mini series! this takes place in the pov of quinn and her side of the story! enjoy : )
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*not my gif*
“Quinny?” my mom poked her head through the door, “You got to get ready for school.” she says softly. 
I groaned as I shoved my head into a pillow. I didn’t want to go to school today or well ever for that matter. 
And you’re probably thinking: Quinn what teenager actually wants to go to school? 
i did...once. When I didn’t fuck up the best thing that ever happened to me. Meeting her at her locker, holding her hand down the hall, singing songs to her in glee club. All of it. But that’s all faded away like a moment in time. 
“Not today.” I mumble. 
“Quinn, honey, I let you miss so much school these past couple months. I need you to go just this once.” she whispers before closing the door. 
I let out another groan as I pulled the covers off my body. Stumbling my way into the bathroom. As I look in the mirror the pit that was in my stomach continued growing. 
I hated how I looked. I hated how I felt. I fucked up. It was all on me.
And it all started at junior prom.
“Love, dance with me!” Y/N yelled over the loud music that was playing, trying to pull me out of my seat at the table I was sitting at. 
I smiled widely at her enthusiasm before raising my eyebrows at her. She knows I hate the crowds. Sure, I was popular and wanted the attention.
But there’s a difference between walking down the hall like a bad ass than being trapped in a crowd of thousands, feeling like you’re suffocating and sweating.
“This is my favorite song.” she pouted when I gave her the look. 
I pulled the hand that she had in her hand closer to me. Giving it a sweet kiss, “Next dance, I promise.”
She pouts a little before running back off to the dance floor. I sat there drinking the spiked punch, letting the alcohol burn all the way down my throat and into my stomach. Leaving a warm sensation behind. 
I watched Y/N’s every move. She wasn’t very far away from where I was planted. Jumping up and down, doing crazy dance moves, with Sam. 
I love Sam with every bone in my body, but I was always jealous of the blonde boy. He was a nice guy, funny, good looking and super close to Y/N. 
“Looks like your girlfriend is having more fun with Sam, than she is with you.” Santana says, leaning against the chair I was sitting on.
“I don’t like the crowds. She knows that. She’s just trying to enjoy her prom.” I mumble, trying to ignore her snide remarks. 
Santana hums in response before taking a sip of her own punch, “Sure, let’s keep telling yourself that. And I’ll be the one saying ‘I told you so’ when she leaves you for him.” 
That was it. That’s what started my insecurities. 
Was I good enough for Y/N? Or will she find her own non-complicated love with Sam or Finn? Was Santana right?
After procrastinating for God knows how long, I finally made it to school. 
“Quinn!” Mercedes yelled getting my attention away from locker. 
I tried forcing on my best smile, “Hey what’s up?” 
“You’re coming to Y/N’s party tonight right? Everyone’s gonna be there! I don’t want you to miss it.” Mercedes said.
I shook my head looking down at my shoes, “No. I wasn’t planning on going. I don’t think she would want me there anyway.” I mumble.
Mercedes looked at me sympathetically, “Well I want you to come. Dig yourself out of the depressing hole you’re in and come hang out with people who care about you. Think about it, okay?” 
I nod before she goes running off to talk to Kurt. I open my locker and stare at the cardigan hanging off of one of the hooks. My eyes dart around my locker to see the pictures of the two of us hanging on the walls. 
I miss her.
The bell rings and I weave my way through the somewhat crowded walls and into my anatomy class for homeroom. I take my seat next to Jacob Ben Israel and sigh softly. 
“Alright class take your seats!” Mr. Barnson yells as he walks in the door, taking his bag off.
I look at the empty stool next to me. Y/N wasn’t in here today. She must’ve stayed home. I wish I could’ve, especially after what happened yesterday. 
“Jacob, you’re going to be Ms. Fabray’s new lab partner.” he says and I watch as Jacob’s eyes lighten up.
The afro-hair kid coming to sit next to me, “Can I smell your hair?” he asks, disturbingly. 
I shutter in disgust and raise my hand, “Yes Ms. Fabray?” 
“What happened to Y/N?” I ask.
“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N switched homerooms this morning.” he says nonchalantly while looking back at his list for attendance. 
Oh. 
The day went on and on, dragging like a bad movie that wouldn’t end. Until finally it did. 
I walked to school today. I’ve been walking to school the past couple months. It was a nice break to just clear my head and think about everything. Sometimes it hurt to do, but it was much needed. 
I didn’t want to go straight home today. I didn’t want to go home and just lock myself in my room, curling up into a ball of nothingness. So I walked around more. 
“Quinn? Do you need a ride?” I hear a voice ask.
I turn towards the voice to see Mike and Tina in his car, “No thanks. I think I’m just gonna walk.” 
“Okay. Well we’ll see you tonight, right? We all miss hanging out with you.” he suggests.
“I don’t know.” I say looking anywhere, but them.
“You should.” Tina says before the light turns green and they drive off with a wave. 
I continued walking until I found myself at the mall need Breadstix. I hate the mall. 
I used to love going there with Santana and Brittany back during sophomore year of high school. When I was dating Finn and head Cheerio, but now it just reminds me of everything that went wrong. 
When my insecurity was at its greatest peak. 
“Hello beautiful!” I say as I answer Y/N’s phone call, walking through the mall. 
“Hi love! I miss you so much.” she whispers and I smile softly.
I hear rustling coming from her side of the phone, another girl’s voice, “I miss you more.” I say softly, “Who are you with?”
“Oh I’m with my friend Lizzie. She’s also a intern here and we’re just having dinner! She’s really cool!” Y/N said excitedly.
The rest of the conversation was about her internship and the amazing stuff she was learning and the new people she was meeting. How much she was having.
I should have been happy for her, but all I could think about what was, how much her life is better without me? What a fun life she could have without me? 
I left the mall that I was once walking in and nothing seemed good enough to buy. I was getting closer to my house as I was walking on the broken cobblestone. Just thinking about her.
How much I just want her to come back home and into my arms. How much I want her to let me know that I’m the only one she wants and that I am good enough for her.
Someone’s car came by slowing down next to me as they rolled their window down, pulling me out of my thoughts. Santana was sitting in the driver’s seat with her sunglasses on. Her usual high pony was down which revealed her curly brunette hair. 
She looked like a figment of my worst intentions. Her lips stained with a dark red lipstick and the way she was eyeing me. It just sent shivers down my spine. 
“Quinn, get in, let’s drive.” 
And those four words was all it took. Well four words and a human full of loneliness. 
A car honks shaking me from that terrible terrible memory. Leaving me with a mind and head full of thoughts. 
Should I go to the party tonight? Will she want me there? Will I regret not going? 
There’s two ways me going would play out.
1.) I would get there and she would open the door and slam it on my face. Then she would open it again just to tell me to go fuck myself. 
I shutter at the thought of the most likely scenario. The sun was setting turning the sky into a cotton candy looking sky. What a beautiful sky for a stressful decision. 
Santana laid next to me on the grassy field of my backyard. It was a cotton candy color as the orange hue blended with the dreamy blue. 
I spent the week driving around with Santana. We would go exploring the small town in Lima or just drive around singing to random songs. 
We laid there in silence just staring up at the sky. She took my hand in hers intertwining them together. And in that moment I didn’t care. I wanted to feel something, anything. 
Anything besides this pit of loneliness. 
She turned her head towards mine. And in a beat her lips were on mine. It was soft at first yet passionate. Then the next thing I knew, clothes were flying off, and hands were roaming. 
2.) Y/N opens the door and sees me standing there. I apologize for everything, she leads me to our spot in the backyard. And kiss me in front of everyone. 
Yeah like that would ever fucking happen. 
I didn’t know what I was expecting when Y/N came back from Pennsylvania. After the many nights spent with Santana, I dropped her. Or well ghosted her I should say.
I didn’t answer her calls or her texts. I knew what I did was wrong and I decided to just end it before things could get any worse. 
Was it fucked up? 
Yes, but I did what I had to try and salvage what I had left in our relationship.
I thought I could get away with it too. Until the guilt started eating me alive. The pit in my stomach wasn’t loneliness, it was guilt. 
And then Santana told Brittany. Brittany told Artie. Artie told Tina. Tina told Mike. Mike told Puck. Puck told Mercedes. Mercedes told Kurt. Kurt told Blaine. Blaine told Rachel. Rachel told Finn. Finn told Sam. Then finally, Rachel told Y/N since no one else had the heart to. 
Y/N slammed my locker shut causing me to flinch back, “Tell me she’s lying.” she whispers, her voice breaking. 
“Who’s lying love? What happened?” I say attempting to take her in my arms, but she took a step back.
“Tell me that you didn’t hook up with Santana while I was gone. And that it’s some weird vendetta against you.” she whispers staring at me. 
I couldn’t lie to her anymore. It was killing me. I didn’t want to lie anymore. I just needed to tell her. 
I just stared at her desperately trying to find an explanation. Desperately trying to apologize and explain everything to her, but no words came out.
“Y/N-”
“You did didn’t you?” Y/N asked barely in a whisper.
I nodded sadly and a sob escaped her lips. 
“Y/N please let me-” I try to say and she shakes her head.
“No. We’re done Quinn!” she yells in between sobs running off. 
I looked up and found myself in front of Y/N’s house. 
I wasn’t trying to go here. I guess my feet just carried me here. The party was in full swing and through her window I could see her just sitting there, nursing a cup. 
Her favorite song was playing and she wasn’t dancing. She was just sitting there, trying to smile, but was struggling too. 
It hurt me, knowing that I’m the reason for her pain. 
I hesitantly knocked on the door and the door flung open. Y/N was standing there and she was shocked, but her eyes softened. But it didn’t matter anymore because she covered it up with a harder shell. 
She came out and stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind her.
“Happy birthday.” I whisper.
She mumbles, “Thanks.” 
“Can we talk please?” I ask.
She was thinking about it. I could tell. Her eyes were furrowed and she was biting her lip. She looked in deep thought before nodding and leading me to the backyard garden.
There was a bench swing hanging from the trees. And we took a seat on there together. 
This is the spot. Our spot. 
We had our first kiss here. I asked her to be my girlfriend here. Everything happened right here. 
“Y/N I’m sorry. And before you say anything I know. I know sorry means nothing and it has no excuse for what I did. But I am so deeply sorry. I don’t know much and I don’t have much to say because I wasn’t expecting to come tonight But I do know that I miss you and you were the best thing that has ever happened to me.” I whisper letting all of the tears spill. 
She lets out a shaky sigh, “I know. I forgive you.” 
I smile softly and I try to lean in to kiss her, but she immediately pulls back. Leaving me embarrassed and heartbroken.
“Just because I forgive you doesn’t mean that I want to get back together. I know you know that what you did was wrong. And I trust you when you say that it wasn’t anything special. But it doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. I love you Quinn Fabray, but I just can’t do this right now.” she whispers back.
She begins to wipe away the tears from my cheeks. I took in a deep breath before embracing the feeling of her touch. Y/N closes her eyes and rests her forehead on top of mine. 
I cup her cheeks into my hands. My thumb trying to memorize all of the crevasse, cheek bones, every little feature. 
“I will always love you and maybe we’ll be together one day. Just not today.” she whispers pulling away and kissing my cheek softly, “Goodbye Quinn.” 
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ren-therose · 3 years
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Stuck In the Web (Pt. 1)
Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (WC: 3.3k)
Summary: For the first time, you meet and Peter meet face to face. He isn't sure he can trust you, but you are able to prove it to him, which sends you both into the middle of a mess.
Warning: Spoilers up until "SpiderMan: Far From Home", angst, blood, just a really dark plot with lots of context.
A/N: I have been working on this for over two months. It is probably going to be my most in depth series with a lotta, lotta plot. I don't know how many parts there will be, as there isn't necessarily an ending planned yet. But for now, I hope you enjoy a little story for you and our friendly neighborhood Spiderman.
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The sun was creeping through the windows, illuminating the sleeping boy on the couch. The growing rays of light caused Peter Parker to stir from his slumber, bewildered by his seemingly random nap. As he rubbed his weary eyes, they quickly snapped open, taking in the eerily familiar surroundings. Sitting up, he looked around, and to his dismay, he recognized the haunting cabin he had been in once before.
"Oh my god," he breathed, heart rate increase with every second of increasing hyperawareness. "...how am I, why am I..."
Peter began to hyperventilate, unable to finish his sentence, as he pushed himself off the cool leather couch. He was no longer in his spider-suit, but in a T-shirt that said "Stark Industries" and dark sweatpants. The oxygen in the air seemed to be dissipating from Peters surrounding area as he clambered over the back of the sofa and ran to the kitchen, searching for any clues on how he got there. There was no one in the kitchen, and no discernable evidence as to how or why he was in his mentors old cabin.
There was, however, a picture frame that caught his eye over by the sink. As he approached the picture, he stopped in his tracks when he realized what was it was.
The day Mr. Stark and I took photos for Aunt May at the "internship".
He pulled the frame off the shelf, a broken smile catching on his lips. His bottom one quivered, as he stared at the greatest father figure he'd had, but saw was there last moments together on the battlefield. He shook his head, placing the picture on the island and continuing his way to the back. His web shooters were still on his wrists, and he adjusted them to strike. As he walked towards the back of the cabin, he saw a door slightly cracked open at the end of the hall. He silently crept towards the door, pushing it open with discretion, as not to startle whomever was inside.
The first and only time he had been in the cabin was at Tony's funeral, so he didn't see much of the house. It hurt too much to smell Tony's expensive cologne lingering in the air, or the sight of his tech all over. Past the door was a well lived-in bedroom, with paintings and other assorted decor across the room. Flowers on a dresser, a few candles scattered about and a large window looking out onto the lake. It was a very feminine room, but more mature than something little Morgan would like. In the center of the room, there was a full sized bed with a rusty orange-colored comforter piled atop it. Peter approached the side of the bed, but stumbled back upon his discovery. There was, in fact, a girl, quite close to his age, sleeping peacefully in the bed.
Hair sprawled out across the pillow, framing your face. Lips swollen from sleep and cheeks softly tinged with pink. You quietly stirred in the sunlight, and Peter couldn't help but admire the way you so easily. It wasn't the most threatening intruder he was expecting. Nevertheless, this is, or was, Tony's cabin and some strange girl was living in it.
As softly as he could, he backed up to the nearest wall, and started crawling up towards the ceiling. He allowed for a web to drip from his shooter down to your nose. It dragged back and forth across the bridge, causing a tickle to rise. You started to stir as the web continued to sweep across your nose. When your eyes lulled open, you saw the boy above you on the ceiling.
"Peter, what the fuck!"
Startled by the girls response, the boy fell from the ceiling onto the bed where you were pulling yourself up while Peter uncrumpled himself from his landing.
"Woah, woah, woah, are you okay? also, you know my name? Who are you, and seriously, are you okay?" He said, signaling surrender with his hands, to show he wasn't a threat. You, on the other hand, were feeling like you could really be a threat to him.
Looking quizzically at him, you debated launching yourself across the room to beat the shit out of this ignorant boy, but decided against it, as you rolled off the bed, your over-sized shirt and shorts falling down to hang loosely on your figure. You began walking to the door, ignoring him.
"Where do you think you're going? Who are you?" the boy stuttered out. You shoved past him, making your way down the hall into the kitchen.
"Shut up Parker," you muttered, not knowing is he was actually listening. He chased after you with annoyance, considering how oddly comfortable you were in Tony's cabin. You were at the coffee machine by this point, turning it on, and reaching for a mug. "Coffee?"
Before you could turn around, a gooey string of web was around your wrist and you were being pulled towards him with great momentum. He caught you, as you struggled against the webbing.
"Who. Are. You." he growled. It almost scared you, having never seen him in such an aggressive state, not even in the throws of a battle. It almost impressed you, but below your nonchalant facade, you were just as angry.
"All these years, and I am the only secret you didn't figure out, huh Peter?"
"What secret? Why are you here? Did you know Tony?" he said with dismay, unsure if he could trust this girl.
"Of course I knew Tony," you snap. "I am his-" you cut yourself short, your voice feeling caught in your throat. You weren't sure if you were ready to admit it outloud to anyone. "Listen, if you let me go, I can make us some coffee and we can talk, Spider-boy," you mock, lightly tugging against your restraints.
"First, tell me your name now," he demanded. "Please," he added quickly, seeing that this wasn't easy for you either.
"It's Y/N, okay?" you say.
"Y/N. Tony never mentioned you," he grumbled, letting go of your wrist.
You stepped backwards to lean against the counter, pulling the remaining webs off you. "Like I said Peter, best kept secret," you shrugged, turning back to the coffee machine and mugs. You pulled two down, and noticed that the picture frame had moved slightly. "Did Tony have a secret daughter? Did he even know you exist?" You looked back at Peter, who was tracking his sight between you and the frame.
You nodded to the frame. "I remember that day. Tony came back particularly happy, saying that he couldn't wait for there to be a picture of him at you Aunt May's house; it was so weird," you chuckled, allowing the coffee to brew into the pot.
"You know my Aunt Ma-Oh shit, Aunt May! I gotta call her, she probably thinks I'm still-"
"I already called her. She knows where you are and she has been moved into protective custody by Agent Fury. We can't have you contact her though; in fact, you can't contact anyone for a bit. You gotta lay low Peter." You were now pouring sugar into the mugs, as the silent drip off coffee created a strong aroma of java beans.
"Oh god...I really fucked up... how did I even end up here?" he probed, moving to sit on the stool under the counter.
"Oh," you started, shifting uncomfortably. "I, uh...well, after everything with that dick Mysterio, Happy knew that everyone would be after you, and they'd look to him to find you. So, that's why when you arrived at what was left of the compound, you kinda...ended up...knocked out..." you breathed out, worried how he might take the news.
He stared at you, questions racing behind his eyes. As he began to speak, the coffee maker beeped. You spun back around, pouring the coffee into the mugs.
"Okay, but I still don't know who you are Y/N. How did you know Tony?"
You sighed, walking towards the fridge and pulling out creamer. You could feel his gaze on you, watching the way your body language shifted.
"Y/N, you seem to know more about me than I probably would ever want someone to, and yet I only know your name. You seemed to have known tony, and he wasn't a very trusting guy, so I am trying to give you a chance. But you have to trust me in return" he said, shifting awkwardly in his stool. You had finished pouring the creamer, and were slowly stirring the coffee as you listened. If only he knew how much it all weighed on you.
Picking up the mugs, you walked over to Peter and sat next to him, setting a mug in front of the boy. "What do you want to know?"
"Everything."
---
[Year: 2015, New York]
The air smelled sterile, like pure rubbing alcohol that slightly singed the inside of your nose. Your head rolled to the side as you opened your eyes, looking at the unfamiliar surroundings. It looked like a hospital room, but as you took everything in, you soon came to realize that it was much too high-tech to be any kind of hospital you knew of.
All alone, you could feel your heartbeat in your ears, drowning out the beeping of the machines around you. Your breathing quickened, and the beeping sound came back, this time louder and faster. You frantically looked around, trying to find something to hold onto. The panic was setting in when a figure materialized through the wall, shaped like a man. Except he was floating. And red. Your eyes widened, feeling as though you might pass out. And in fact, you did, shortly after he said "Y/N".
That was your first introduction to Vision, and the Avengers building. The next time you woke up, it was in a much cozier room, clearly decorated for a teen girl. There was still more high tech than you needed, but you were a little more comfortable. You got out of the bed and started walking around the room, admiring the thought that someone had put into the space. As you went towards the closet, you heard a knock at the door, and jumped back, startled by the sound. You were barely able to squeak out "come in" before the door opened.
A woman with red hair was standing in the doorway, very relaxed and smiling sweetly at me. But as she watched you back away, she gently placed her hands out, as a gesture to stay calm.
"It's alright dear, you're safe," she said softly. She began approaching as you moved back towards the bed.
"Where am I? I'm scared, please let me go."
"Oh sweetie, you aren't stuck here. I know there is a lot of explaining to do, but first, I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Wanda."
"Y/N. You look familiar, or maybe, sound familiar..."
"I have sat with you for a few weeks now, trying to help you out of your sleep," Wanda said softly, sitting next to you on the bed.
"W-w-weeks? How long was I asleep?" you whisper, afraid to know.
She looked down into her lap, her hands fiddling with each other before she said these words. "Over a year..." she said quietly, afraid it would scare you away.
And she was right. You were more scared than you had been in your life. You had never had parents, you were alone your entire life, but to have lost a year and be placed somewhere else...it was an entirely new fear. You began trembling, searching around the room frantically for more explanations.
"How am I here, how am I...why am I..." you words barely made sense as you sputtered through tears. Wanda gently reached out, placing a hand on your leg.
"Would you like me to explain?" she asked. You nodded frantically, choking back tears.
Wanda explained what should have been your death. The destruction that Captain America and the Winter Soldier had created during their fight left you, at only 13 years old, on death's doorstep. Steve couldn't leave you behind when he saw you laying their, blood surrounding you. You were just a kid. He brought you back to Tony and Bruce, hoping they could do something to save you. What they discovered was that while you were technically alive, you were also brain dead.
They spent months testing every option to bring you back, unfortunately to no avail. By that time, many of the Avengers had grown attached to you, especially Tony. He didn't want to admit it, but he always hoped for a daughter one day. He sat with you every night, telling you about how amazing he is and all of the new tech he was creating in the hopes of saving you. It wasn't until months later, when the threat of Ultron prompted the creation of Vision. The technology used to make his synthetic body, it was exactly what they needed to help you. Brain dead for over six months, and finally, with a little technology, as well as the help of two geniuses, you were supposed to wake up in a day or two. It took several more months for you to wake up. And now, here you are, finally awake and not even aware of what had been done to you.
Wanda escorted you out of your room into the shiny and clean hallways of the building, explaining who you were about to meet. As you walked into the large kitchen, multiple heads spun to look at Wanda and you. Tony, Nat, Steve and Vision were all standing around the island, and were shocked to see you awake and moving.
Vision was the first to speak out of the group. "Y/N, I apologize deeply for startling you earlier, it was not my intention. I have a problem with knowing whether to use the door or just coming i-"
"It's a-alright Mr. Vision," you stumbled on your words, unsure of how to address the AI hero in front of you.
"Please, just Vision," he said with a warm smile (who knew a robot could be as warm as he was).
"I'm Nat. It is so nice to finally hear you speak. We were all wondering what you might sound like," the other redhead said, walking up to place a hand on your shoulder, rubbing slightly as she smiled. "Welcome". She looked back at Steve, who was hanging back slightly. She nodded towards you, and the large man lifted himself off the counter he had been leaning on.
"I'm Steve. I am so sorry-"
"Uh, you really don't have to apologize Mr. Rogers. I appreciate you even trying to save me..." you said quietly, looking down at your shoes.
"Please, Mr. Rogers was my father. Call me Steve." You smiled up at the man, and he began to relax.
"Yeah, hi, and I'm-"
"You are Tony. Er-Mr. Stark," you say quickly correcting yourself. You stepped towards him hesitantly.
"Oh, so you have already heard of me? I am not that surprised, I am-"
"Well actually, I heard you. You were there weren't you?"
Tony looked taken aback by the recognition.
"You heard me?"
"Yeah. You taught me all about the workings of the arc reactor, how you made your own vibranium and why it is better than the original palladium...woah," you exclaimed, feeling a slight rush as you began to crumple. Tony jumped forward to catch you as you slumped down.
"Mr. Stark, my head feels funny."
Tony helped you up, guiding you to a chair, "Yeah, you're gonna feel that for a while, kid. I promise I will explain it to you when you are older."
For the next eight years, more or less based on blip time, you were a mini-Avenger.
---
"That is quite the hero backstory," Peter said with a hefty breath. By the end of your explanation, you had both gone through your first cup of coffee and were on your second. You had also moved to the living room where you sat across from each other in opposing seats.
"It's no radioactive spider," you joke, and he chuckles at the comment.
"So, what did they do to your brain? If you don't mind my asking," he asks with hesitancy.
"Oh, I'm a super computer." You deadpan him as his eyes widen.
"Woah, wait, I thought you were human?"
"Peter, I'm kidding. Kinda. They sort of implanted a super computer in my brain. It keeps my brain functioning, but also gives me unlimited access to the tech that Tony developed for me, as well as, like, the internet."
Peter blinked at you, his jaw slacked a bit, as he scanned you up and down.
"I don't have any metal sticking out of me dork, stop staring," you snap. He sits back, embarrassed that he had been caught.
"How do I know that you are not some person trying to kill me because of London? How do I know that you knew Tony? You could have made all that up!"
You roll your eyes and sit back, raising your hands next to your head.
"Alright, fine Spider-Boy. Believe what you want."
The voice wasn't coming from your mouth. In fact, your mouth was clamped shut, not moving at all. The voice was coming from the speakers.
Peter practically choked on his coffee as your voice projected around him.
"Yeah, and if you still don't believe me, I have something for you." Your voice projected around him.
"Hey Peter, it's Tony."
Peters head snapped up to look at you, as you stared sadly back at him.
"If you are watching this, then you have met Y/N. Isn't she cute? I just know you're gonna like her."
Tears fall from your eyes. Hearing his voice, even if he was totally pushing it with his comment, was nice.
"I wish I could have introduced you myself, but I guess the circumstances dictate that it had to happen now. Anyways, I guess you could call her your 'guardian angel'. She was my right-hand girl when I needed to make sure you were doing okay if I wasn't there. I'd trust her with my life, which is why she has been trusted with yours."
Peter stood from his seat and charged at you, pulling you from your seat. "What the hell is this Y/N" he demanded, tears sitting on the rims of his eyes.
You looked at him with fear in your own. You could tell he was scared, no doubt from the terrible illusions he had endured with Mysterio. Tony continued,
"Oh, shit, projection isn't on. FRIDAY, turn on the recording."
Your eyes widened, and Peter looked back to see a holographic Tony. He let you go and walked up to the hologram.
"So, yeah. Peter, Y/N, and well, Y/N knows you quite well by now. I'm sure you both will get along. I can't wait to see what kind of tech you two make together. Y/N, play nice with him. Peter, I know this is a lot to handle, but I promise you, it will make sense. Oh, and both of you should know that uh, I'm proud of you. Both. So yeah. I'll see you guys later."
The hologram faded. Peter looked limp in front of you, but you couldn't stand anymore. You feel to the ground, a sob escaping from your chest. Peter whipped around, to see you keeled over on the ground. He dropped down next to you as you cried.
"Oh my god, oh my god, I'm so sorry tony, i-i-i'm so sorry...im sorry..." You were veering on hysterical, unable to breath through the pain. Your hair fell around your face, and he saw your neck, which almost looked tattooed; however, Peter recognized that it was a tech grid, one only his mentor could have made. At the nape of your neck, there was, in fact, a small tattoo. It was tony's first arc reactor.
Peter reached out to you, hesitant at first, but gained the confidence to pull you into him. He hugged you tightly, running his hand through your hair as he quietly hushed you. "I believe you Y/N, I'm sorry," he whispered.
"No, Peter please, I-I am so sorry, I am s-sorry, it's all my fault..." you breath into him.
He pulls you away from him gently, looking at your red, tear-stained face. "What was your fault Y/N?"
"Mysterio."
-----
A/N: Please like, reblog and comment if you want more. My motivation is dependent on validation lol, and I also just really value your opinion. Thank you for making it this far.
The next part will be uploaded hopefully sooner than later, and it will include why Y/N is Peters "guardian angel". The fun really gets started up next.
84 notes · View notes
emtornado · 2 years
Text
Miraculous but make it Squid Games
Inspired by https://www.instagram.com/p/CUm02T7BCGr/?utm_medium=copy_link
Do I know why I keep making Miraculous posts? Nope. But here we go with another one~
(Also this takes place in Korea cuz I don't know any French children's games and didn't wanna complicate my own life so just roll with it)
Let’s introduce our characters first.
Marinette Dupain Cheng— A French student studying fashion in Korea who has lost all her money and is in severe debt.
Adrien Agreste— Marinette’s friend from France, and a former model who left his father and his company behind to travel the world ending up in Korea where he gets a very interesting offer.
So let’s start with the fact that there are obviously no miraculouses here. Both were two normal students who used to be friends but drifted apart, not even knowing that the other was in the same country, years later.
Marinette, who used to study in Sungkyunkwan University, is completely broke and the only reason she could afford school is because of her parents. Now, with a degree and no jobs (Korea is hard to foreigners, and even after years, that’s what she is to everyone), she's lost all motivation in life. Her sketchbooks, once full of life, now lie empty.
At her lowest moment, Marinette sits at a subway and contemplates what to do with life when a dude comes and offers her money, and all she has to do is play a Korean game. Ending with a stinging cheek and 40,000 won in her hands, the man offers her a card and tells her to think. She gets a lot of money, and all she has to do is play some games.
On the other side, we have Adrien. Adrien, who is more like Chat— confident, witty and VERY flirty. He left his father’s house when he was 18 and has been travelling ever since. He and Nino went to the states, travelled Europe by car, went to India (cuz yes) and currently makes a stop in Korea, where he is approached by a man. This man asks them if they’re up for a job, where they gets a decent amount of money and all he has to do is follow the rules and keep his mouth shut.
Adrien has experienced many things in his life so far, and his money supply is depleting. Thinking of this as some drug shit, he agrees and signs the contract (fucking idiot. After staying with his father and being a model for so long he should’ve known to at least read things properly smh). Seeing him, Nino does too.
Fast forward to the very first game. Adrien has been training for almost a month now and has a little idea of what he’s working for here.
He knows not to ask any questions, to only take the head mask off when he’s in his room and do whatever the man in the black mask tells him to.
He doesn’t ask a single question cuz he’s seen what happens to those who do. What happened to Nino, as his best friend’s brains splattered all across his mask. (sorry, but like. People had to die.)
When the participants play their first game, he doesn’t even flinch at the absolute massacre happening on his screen. He thinks about how nothing can faze him anymore when he catches sight of two pigtails on the screen. Two pigtails that look almost blue under the sun’s glare.
And that is when his stomach DROPS.
Let's yeet back to Marinette. Our sis is dying inside but she WILL NOT die outside. She came here for the money and now she has a greater motivation to survive— her life.
She is the last person in the game— number 467, and all that goes on in her head as three people beside her are shot due to the creepy doll’s eyes is the fact that she will remain the last one standing. It’s not about the money anymore, it’s about survival.
After the first game, when given the option, she presses her hand on the cross without a second’s hesitation.
As she makes her way home, she is relieved, that the torture is over.
And then she meets Adrien.
Back to Adrien. When all the participants head back, he uses two of his precious leave days from this fucked up organisation to track Marinette and meet her. When they do, they fucking collide cuz he saw her almost die and she almost died. They have reason to cling onto one another shush.
And then Adrien tells her. He tells her everything. He tells her what is happening, how many people have died, how Nino had died, and how he needs her help to shut all this down.
Marinette runs away. She doesn’t wanna be there. And then she starts looking at all the chats and pictures of her and Nino. How he was one of her very first friends. And so she goes back to the same cafe and meets Adrien again.
They make a plan. They will make sure she survives, for which she will need allies in the game (not outside the games, cuz she will always have him there).
And so armed with knowledge, Marinette goes back into the game and meets a naïve Korean man who teams up with everyone, a bitch who will survive somehow (and will kill anyone to do so— yes I mean Lila) and a young man who seems so fucking familiar.
And so the games go on and Marinette keeps surviving. And as that happens, she starts to spend her nights in a secluded area with Adrien, where they talk, they reminisce and they find a reason to live in each other.
And then the marble game happens. She partners with the boy, Luka, who turns out to be another face from back home. She partners with him because she trusts him and she is afraid nobody else will partner with him because of the growing bloody wound on his head courtesy of the thugs trying to kill him.
Adrien is the guard assigned to her and Luka, and he watches as Luka slowly and steadily grows more and more out of it and Marinette starts full-on sobbing. Right when the time is about to end, Luka gives his marbles to Marinette and begs her to survive this game and live, and go back to Paris and tell Juleka about all this, as his final goodbye. He looks her in the eyes with a smile until the very last second when Adrien shoots him.
That night, the VIPs arrive and both Mari and Adrien know that they need to move on with their plan, but they spend the whole night by diving tanks they know won’t be used anymore, cuz the Black Mask Man made an example out of everyone who tried to betray him. Marinette is curled into Adrien and in the silence, she vows to end them. That morning (night?) when they are sneaking back, they come into contact with one of the black-masked dudes who would serve the VIPs and Adrien knocks him out and switches outfits.
He kisses Marinette before making his way to the VIP chamber.
Imagine his surprise when after almost half a decade he hears his father’s voice behind the mask of a man wearing an elaborate gold butterfly headset.
He watches in rapt attention as Marinette thankfully chooses number 15, with Lila right in front of her. Now we don’t like Lila (here specifically) because after Tug of War she started to turn people against Marinette, because of whose strategy their team won the game. Marinette was almost killed by many of the thugs in the nighttime because of Lila, and when there’s 30 seconds left and one step left to be determined, Marinette pushes Lila off one and scores victory for her and number 16, Alya Cesaire. (Who is in Korea for journalism internships or some shit and got roped into this because of lack of money, and became Marinette’s greatest ally)
They both know that one of them will die at the end, and so Marinette tells Alya of hers and Adrien’s plan to end this thing once and for all, and so they go and play the final Squid Game, where at the end, Alya very convincingly stabs herself, making Marinette the winner.
On the other side of the glass, Adrien, who has gotten the interest of a disgusting old VIP, puts an idea into his head about how the VIPs should really go and really be in the scene and see what has happened, and that old man, fascinated by the idea of being in the zone, convinces his 'friends' that they should go.
And so they all go, surrounding a blood-soaked and sobbing Marinette and start laughing and congratulating her. (cue Gabriel recognising her and being condescending as fuck. Imagine dialogues like "you had so much potential and now are just reduced to this", which cements the fact that he really is Gabriel Agreste).
That is when Adrien, who was escorting them along with the Black Mask, pulls his gun on them, Alya pulls the knife “out” of her and takes the old fat man who liked Adrien hostage and Marinette pulls out her own knife to Gabriel.
They try to make a deal, and when Gabriel almost gets the better of them (cue seggsy fight scene which I don’t have the words to describe rn) Marinette stabs him in the neck.
After threatening the VIPs and getting all of their identities, as well as the black mask dude’s identity, they go to the nearest police station and give all of their gathered evidence.
Due to the physical and psychological trauma and torture faced by Alya and Marinette, as well as part of a settlement plea from the VIPs, they both get all the money.
The two girls plus Adrien fly out to France and reconcile with their families. Adrien and Marinette visit Nino’s family, Juleka and Rose and as many of the people as they can.
The two of them get a small apartment together, unlike the huge mansion that Adrien was left after Gabriel’s death (which he sells and uses the money to be given to all the victim's families)
He also becomes the owner of Gabriel, and with Marinette turns it over into a completely different company (cuz Gabriel was one corrupt bastard)
And so they live happily with weekly therapy sessions and a traumatic, but happy ending.
Gods I need help, I wrote almost 2000 words for this lol. Maybe I'll write this properly someday hahaha.
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