#could feel him watching me. scary. anyway hes so cutesies . what a guy

[iknaenmal]

guys i drew gojo satoru are you proud of me

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #my art #ikna draws #the colors might look a bit off sorry :( drew this while on . whatever the thing that makes your screen more orange is called #also put wayy more effort on this than i should have SKDJDKD #dedicated to my two friends who love jjk :) i will watch it too eventually i promise im just slow #i lovr him really . hes my blorbo by proxy or whatever you call that #bought a nendoroid of him for my friend and i kept it in my room until i could give it to her and well. lesr just say i couldnt sleep bc i #could feel him watching me. scary. anyway hes so cutesies . what a guy

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Can You Get Enough Of Me? - Michael Myers x Reader

"It's a nice day today, huh?" Y/N smiled up at the sky as she went back and forth in the swing. "Will you push me, Mickey?" "Sure." he shrugged as he got off his own swing and went behind her, pushing her the best he could. "Look, Mickey, I'm flying! Whooooo!" the little girl giggled without a care in the world, as Michael watched her long, beautiful hair going everywhere. "Okay, okay, I wanna swing too!" but before the girl could take her time and stop swinging, a bunch of older boys came by and roughly grabbed the chains holding the swing, which in turn, made the girl fall off and get hurt. "Y/N!" Michael gasped as he ran to her side, helping her up, and seeing the blood seeping from one of her legs and arm. "Aww, Myers's got a giiirlfriend! Look at them, gonna fuck? Girl, don'tcha know, Myers's a faggot?" the gang hollered maliciously, and Y/N could only frown, despite the tears of pain from her injuries, and clinging on Michael for support, she got up and yelled at the boys. "Leave Michael alone, jerks! You're rude!" but instead of trying to fight them off, or go in a brawl, she grabbed her friend's arm and dragged him away from there, knowing that if he were to get in trouble again, he'd get some bad detention, and that's the last thing she'd want. Besides...Two kids couldn't possibly fight those guys. "Why didn't you let me fight them?! I could've taken them on!" the blond boy glared at his friend, who only rolled her eyes and sighed at his childishness. "No, you couldn't. Besides, if the teachers find out you got in trouble again, who knows what will happen? Come on, let's go to the fountain, I have to wipe off the blood." Y/N muttered, going on ahead to sit on the rocks by the fountain and took out her handkerchief from her little bag, dipping it in the water and carefully wiping away the red liquid streaming down her limbs, hissing from the pain here and there, but otherwise, staying completely silent. "I'm sorry..." the girl suddenly heard the blond boy mutter, barely audible. "Huh? What do you have to be sorry about, Mickey?" as her eyes widened from the shock, she leaned forward, raising his chin up with her finger. "...I couldn't protect you. I suck. I'm as bad as that fuckass says I am..." he sighed, gently pulling away her hand and looking away from her. "Look at what they did to you. Could've been much worse. And yet, you stood up for me, while I did nothing. I'm a horrible friend." his voice was pitiful, and it was obvious he hated his lack of strength. "First of all, you aren't just my friend. You're my BEST friend. Okay? And nothing in this world will change that. Got it? Okay. Second of all, we're still little and weak. That's how kids are. Trying to fight those guys is like trying to fight the forces of nature...You...You can't fight a hurricane, you know? And...Violence isn't the answer. I mean...Look at our parents. There's nothing good coming out of that...But someday! Someday we'll get older and stronger, and nobody will bully us anymore! It just...It takes a while...I guess." she threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly, trying to comfort him. "That's shit! They'll see, they'll ALL pay for it! Nobody will dare be fuckers with us anymore! And when I grow up, I will make sure everyone is nice to you." he was so revolted, but his anger gradually dissipated as he felt her warmth. "Please don't speak like that. Calm down, Mickey. Things are okay now. At least we have each other, and we will always have each other, don't forget that, okay?" she leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes for a while, only to hear an aggressive male voice booming through the park which made the girl yelp and tremble in fear. "GET AWAY FROM THAT FREAK, Y/N! GET HERE RIGHT NOW!" her father yelled at her and she could only whimper silently, trying to stop herself from hyperventilating. "B-But daddy, Michael is not bad...! H-He tried to protect me from those mean boys from the playground!" she spoke meekly, slowly walking in front of her father, her head hung in fear, only for the man to burry his hand in

her hair, pulling on it roughly, making the girl yelp in pain. "Don't talk back to me, you stupid little bitch! You have no right to go against what I say while you're under MY roof, got it? Home, now." Michael couldn't even retaliate in any way, knowing that if he were to cause trouble for her, she would get in even more trouble, and that's the last thing he'd want...But why did it have to be her...?

He can take it, alright...But her...That's just not acceptable. She is small, and weak, and frail, and innocent...And there is nobody who can protect her.

Nobody but him...

----

"Michael, Michael, are we going trick or treating today?" Y/N asked, skipping around him in her cutesy witch costume, while he was a boring clown. "I guess." he shrugged, pulling down his clown mask. "Come on, it's Halloween, Mickey! You love Halloween! It's your favourite holiday! And we get free candy! It's gonna be fuuun~!" she bumped him with her body, making him stumble a bit, before looking at her and groaning. "Fine, fine, we're going. I just have to tell my mum." he grabbed her wrist and dragged her to his house, but on the way, she stopped him. "Hey, how about we trick or treat all the houses on the way to yours? I mean, there's nothing bad in that, right? We're just going home! It's not even considered a detour!" Y/N grinned widely, her beautiful eyes sparkling with excitement. "...Okay, let's do that." as he said that, Michael took out his candy bag from his schoolbag and taking her hand, they went to all house from both sides of the street. "Trick or Treat!" they both exclaimed as the first grandma opened the door with a loving look on her face. "Ahh, my, my, how cute you two are! And what do we have here...A very adorable, magical witch! And...A funny clown! How lovely!" the woman clapped her hands together to her chest, admiring the two kids. "Ma'am, he's not just a clown, he is my jester! Isn't he so cute?" she threw her arms around his neck, slamming his face to hers as she grinned even wider, making the woman laugh at them. "Yees, yes, I understand! Here, darlings, you're so adorable, take all of these. Hope to see you two, cuties, next year as well! Have fun!" the grandma patted both their heads before going back to her home. "Wiiicked! Look how much candy we've got! My fave holiday is Christmas, but honestly, Halloween is a very close runner up! Our teeth will literally rot after this!" the girl giggled as she inspected each variety of candy in her bag, "I love it 'cause I can spare people." Michael shrugged simply, but he also munched on some candy corn. "Would you scare me, Mickey?" Y/N turned her face to his, her eyes widening with a glimmering, innocent curiosity. "...No. I wouldn't. But you're the only one, okay?! Everyone else, I'd scare!" he tried to sound scary and dangerous, but it only made the little girl giggle and kiss his cheek. "You're my hero! My handsome knight in shining armour, Mickey! Thank you for protecting me. You're the best." help his soul, he wasn't used to people saying good things about him... "...But I'm ugly...That's why I wear a mask so often..." he muttered, looking down at the ground. "No! That's so not true! You're very pretty, okay? I love your face! And you have the most gorgeous eyes in the world! And...And...And your hair is so lovely, I'm jealous! Please don't say bad things about yourself, Mickey, it makes me very upset." she pouted, hugging him tightly, and it was pretty clear neither of them wanted to let go. "You won't leave me, would you, Y/N?" Michael's low voice came out barely above a whisper, but it was the only time he ever allowed himself to show any kind of weakness or vulnerability. "Never. Some day, we will be together forever, okay?" she ruffled his hair playfully, which made his face flush softly. "Hey, actually...Here you go. This is yours now. This way, if you're ever lonely, you'll remember I'm always thinking of you, okay?" Y/N grinned sweetly at him as she took off her flower-charmed necklace and put in on him, hiding it under his costume, so nobody else could see it. "Mum gave this to me on my birthday, before she died. It means the world for me, and so do you. So...Don't forget that, okay? I hope you'd smile more, you have a very pretty smile." as she said that, she squished his chipmunk cheeks.

The boy said nothing - What was he supposed to do, anyway? He was overwhelmed entirely by the only person who makes him feel...Good? But he had to go home, and he already knew that home was hell, and by the time he went there, he knew he wouldn't actually be going trick or treating, as promised...And he'd have to let Y/N down again.

Stupid family.

With a very disappointed voice, he went outside of the house and told the girl that he can't go trick or treating with her, but instead of yelling or disappointment, she just smiled and hugged him.

"It's alright! There's always next year! And besides, we already kinda went trick or treating, right? Sweet dreams, Mickey! Take care!" she waved at him cheerfully and skipped back home.

But little did she know that would be the last Halloween they'd spend together, for that night, a massacre happened at his home, and deep down, Y/N knew.

She just...Knew.

It was Michael who created that blood bath. He couldn't take all that abuse anymore, and Y/N understood that well enough...And she hated herself for thinking this, but she knew she was selfish...

If Michael didn't kill his family, they'd still have been able to hang out daily, and laugh together, lick each other's wounds, and go trick or treating on Halloween...

But she had to be happy with visiting him at Smith's Grove institute weekly with his mum, and they'd chat, and talk, and try to get him out of the shell that he hid himself into...

And he wouldn't stop hiding his face behind his masks, every week, a new one, a new one, and a new one, each time, weirder and creepier and grotesque.

No matter what his mother told him, and no matter what Y/N told him...Michael didn't listen, and the more time he spent there, the less he spoke...Until he hasn't said a word to Y/N in at least two weeks. It made the poor girl tear up, fearing that he hated her, but at least he'd shake his head and clutch his shirt where the gifted necklace would be.

And she would understand.

His mother was confused, and the Dr. was confused as well, but Y/N wasn't, and she'd smile at him and wouldn't explain what happened. It was their little secret, and nobody would be able to be made aware of.

And then...After many weeks of visiting, Michael stuck again and killed a nurse, which led to his mother committing suicide, and since she had nobody to go with to visit him, the last thing she could do was send in letters weekly, hoping they will be given to him, but she had no way of knowing, since nobody wanted to tell her anything, and no reply came by.

Until she gave up writing, thinking that Michael actually hated her, and decided to go on with her life, and her father made her move away to another state to get better education.

15 years passed, and the now 27 year old Y/N was a University graduate who worked hard and was able to get her old home in Haddonfield...To think she'd finally be able to go there again, she never would have thought that.

But here she was, having found a nice, well-paying job, and she was pretty happy, albeit nostalgic, being again back...Home. By the time she returned, she had already learnt how to play the guitar too, so every Friday night, she'd sit on her porch and play a song, softly singing along, hoping not to disturb anyone.

"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for loving me..." she hummed, singing the song by Kiss as she looked up at the starry night with no care in the world.

It was a simple life, but it was good and peaceful - And she had quite a lot of money to do with as she pleases - What else could ask for?

"BREAKING NEWS! A psychiatric patient from Smith's Grove escaped just last night and -..." but Y/N didn't bother hearing the rest of it, because...Because... "Michael...!" she gasped, covering her mouth with both her hands from the shock, tears threatening to fall and she goes outside, looking around, left and right, down the street, hoping to see a glimpse of the blond boy she once held so dear to her heart.

And what a coincidence, tomorrow night was Halloween...Did he do it on purpose? Did he even remember the days they spent together? Or how special Halloween was for him? Did he still have that silly necklace with him? Did he ever read her letters?

So many questions that she was pretty sure she'll never get an answer to, and that thought alone killed her.

The next day, she dressed in her Kiss loose Tshirt, remembering how that was Michael's favourite band, and somewhere in her heart, she hoped to see him again, even just by a little bit. Even a glimpse at his beautiful blue eyes would be enough.

But she knew she was dreaming...

She went to work as usual, but she was so busy that she didn't realise she ended up overstaying and overworking herself until she left the place and realised it was already dark outside, and there were barely any children trick or treating - But hey, there still were a few - And Y/N couldn't help but smile and remember the cute witch and her loyal jester.

The good times...

As she hummed carefree and looked up at the starry sky, but then she heard a crack, and looking back...Nothing? Hmm...Suspicious... She continued walking, but the ominous feeling in the back of her head continued, and so, she took out her pocket mirror and noticed a man somewhere in the back, walking towards her. A colleague from work, she recognised him, yes, she remembers him. He was kicked out from the job because of his inappropriate behaviour...And him following her now truly was no good news.

Analysing the situation, she realised she was close enough to home to make a break for it, so taking a deep breath, she sprinted the hell out of there...But...things didn't go as expected.

Before she could even reach her home, for she was pushed to the ground and straddled, his hands immediately finding their way around her neck, trying to immobilise her, to stop her from struggling and let him have his way with her.

But Y/N was a fighter, and she didn't want to allow the bullying she experienced as a child to take over her adult life, but she also didn't have the body strength to go against this guy, no matter how much she tried to struggle.

However...Before she knew it, the man stopped - Almost as if he froze - And she was splattered with liquid. It was blood. The man above her was stabbed in the chest, then in the head continuously, before his body was snatched and tossed away like a ragdoll.

Great - Y/N thought - From one criminal to another, with a whimper, she tried to get up and run away, but the man was too fast for her, and he picked her up with a weird ease, getting her inside her own house and letting her fall down on her couch.

The man saw fear in her eyes, and she was whimpering, her head hung as she tried to make herself as small as possible - As if she wasn't already so small, especially compared to him - It was pissing him off, as he remembered her jackass father abusing her. He would never hurt her! He promised her he'd always protect her, so why is she so scared of him...?!

"E-Excuse me...Uhm...Mister...A-Are you...Maybe...Uhmm...Are you Michael...?" she stuttered in such a meek voice that it grated his brain. This isn't right, Y/N was cheerful and happy. This...This wasn't right... The man got a hand underneath the neck of his blouse, only to reveal the old flower necklace from long ago. "Michael...! It really is you...Michael...I can't believe it! Oh my God...You grew up so much, this is insane!" as if a switch turned inside her, the girl jumped on her couch and threw herself on the incredibly tall man, not caring whether he liked it or not.

He was her Michael, and she missed him.

"You still don't talk, do you? Well...At least take off this mask of yours. I told you, I hate it when you hide yourself from me. I want to see your beautiful face." she chuckled, pulling Michael down with her on the couch, as he stood with his hands mid-way in the air, rather awkwardly, before finally pulling up his old mask and threading with it with his hands that were laying on his lap. "There we go, as beautiful as ever." she chuckled softly as she parted his long, dirty blond hair and letting it fall down his back, so his face could properly be seen. "Oh my God, you even have a stubble. I can't believe it. Well, we are all grown up after all, aren't we? Seems like almost yesterday when we'd go trick or treating...On this very day." she kept talking of the nostalgic things from so long ago, so much that it made Michael grunt in amusement, but his face didn't sketch any emotion. It really upset Y/N, it felt like talking to a wall. "Well, at least I'm happy that you remember me. I didn't think you did. I kinda thought you hated me too, I didn't know if you got any of my letters either. Uhm...I don't really know what to say. It's weird talking to myself like that. But I'm happy to see you again." she continued speaking before stopping altogether and fidgeting awkwardly on her spot next to him, as he didn't even move, or bother saying a single word.

They stood like that for a while, until Michael suddenly started moving, and revealed a bunch of unopened letters - All from her.

"You have all of them...!" Y/N gasped in shock, taking the letters and examining all of them one by one. "Why didn't you open them?" but instead of an answer, he shook his head. "Did you...Not have them...Until recently?" Y/N tried to guess, and the answer came in the form of a nod. "That stupid doctor! How dare he?! ...You must have felt so lonely stuck there...With your mum shooting herself, I couldn't go there anymore, so I sent you letters weekly...The doctor promised to give them to you...Urgh, what a jerk. And I thought you hated me and that's why you didn't want to reply to them...But you just got them. How annoying." Y/N groaned, realising the truth of what happened, and she let the letters fall down on the coffee table.

After some more silence between the two, Michael pointed towards her shirt, and she smiled, nodding and taking her guitar before leaning on his side. "Yeah, I know it's your favourite band. I never forgot that." she chuckled, and as she started playing the same song she knew so well - And she felt a strong arm sneaking around her waist, pulling her closer to his body. It surprised her a bit, but she felt so safe and warm in his embrace.

"I was made for lovin' you baby, you were made for lovin' me. And I can't get enough of you, baby..." she sang in the same sweet, crystalline, soft voice that he loved so much, and missed over the many years they've been separated.

"...Can you get enough of me?"

#slasher #slasher boyfriend #slasher imagine #slasher x reader #slasher boyfriend imagine #slasher boyfriend x reader #michael myers #michael myers imagine #michael myers x reader #halloween #halloween imagine #halloween x reader

[jjkpls]

set your world alight (m)

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.

“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.

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.

"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?

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.

« 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.

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 💜

#ksmutclub #networkbangtan #btswriterscollective #ggukienet #bts fluff #bts smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #bts scenario #bts fanfic #my writing #when posting will stop being so scary lmao

[zv5x]

I'm curious, if Reader died or got knocked out in last fic with Poly!Spirit and Sen-

Reader is alive, just passed out from pain! The reason it happened so quick and without much effort from Spirit is cause, you know, demon powers. I know this isn't a request for a part two and was just a simple question buttttttt I'm extra as fuck and I wanted to do one anyways, so I'll just get it over with here! Hope you all enjoy!

Request status : open! 💕

tw !!! Be careful guys, Senpai goes a little crazy in this one lolz

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

Spirit couldn't help but feel a great deal of pity as he glanced over at Senpai. The look of fear and uneasiness on his face was clear as day, and he nervously played with his loose-fitting tie as he stared at (Y/N) who was unconscious on the bed. Chains held their arms and legs to the bedposts, so there was no chance of escaping.

Spirit hummed, giving (Y/N) an empathetic pat on the leg, before choosing to address Senpai. "I know this isn't the sight you wanted to come home to, but-"

"W-what happened to them? D-did someone hurt them?!" Senpai managed to sputter out, despite the fear eating his body alive. Spirit sighed, as he couldn't help but become slightly irritated as soon as Senpai lost his cool like he was now. Nothing could get done when you're overrun by panic, but he was glad he was at least there to keep everything together. "Did they..." Senpai paused for a second, his past fear slowly draining from his face, replacing it was an expression that even Spirit couldn't fully read. "Did they try something funny again...?" Senpai asked in a low tone, and Spirit made a small noise as his response. The room was consumed by silence for a few moments, before Spirit decided to answer his question for real.

"I suppose you could say that." He said calmly and quietly, not really caring to expose the whole truth of what (Y/N) had done just yet. If Senpai asked for clarification or specification, then he would absolutely tell him, but he just didn't see it as needed at the moment. Senpai groaned in annoyance, stomping on the floor a single time. Spirit only rolled his eyes.

He didn't even bother to take his eyes off of (Y/N)'s "sleeping" form as Senpai made his way towards the two of them, stopping in front of the bed and crossing his arms. "What did they do?" Senpai asked quietly, almost in a whisper, in a tone that implied that maybe he didn't even want to know, but was just simply curious. Spirit shrugged.

"It was nothing too painful, just a punch to the nose. It didn't even hurt for a minute, really." Senpai looked at the entity standing next to him in a mixture of shock and disgust, absolutely baffled by the fact that their darling (Y/N) would ever do something like to that to either of them. He just didn't get it, and frankly, neither did Spirit. Really, they were just trying to help, but their (Y/N) just wasn't listening. It made things so much more tedious than they needed to be. Senpai growled to himself and made his way onto the bed. Spirit looked on in confusion, arching an eyebrow as he watched Senpai set himself down on (Y/N)'s chest, straddling it. He adjusted his position slightly, wriggling to make sure he was in the most comfortable position possible, before raising his hand to above the side of his head and bringing it down forcefully and quickly, slapping (Y/N) in the right cheek. Spirit even flinched himself, as the slap was hard enough to make a loud sound on impact.

However, Spirit couldn't feel too bad. He did try warning (Y/N). Senpai would be a lot harsher on them than he ever would be.

(Y/N) gasped as they woke up from their unconsciousness, Senpai glaring down at them as he watched them do so. It took them about a minute for their eyes to fully adjust to everything going on at the moment, especially since what caused them to wake up was so...violent...

"Well...good morning, honey." Senpai said through gritted teeth, and (Y/N) instinctively tried raising their arms, only for them to be held back by the chains. They swore at Senpai and demanded for either him or Spirit to release them, but that did nothing but anger Senpai further.

"You're lucky me and Spirit as so nice to you, if you were acting this bratty towards anyone else, your throat probably would've been sliced..." Senpai snicked sadistically, only for his slight amusement to completely vanish as (Y/N) leaned up towards him and spit in his face.

Senpai stumbled back, instinctively grabbing a tissue off the bedside table and wiping his face quickly and roughly while whining in disgust. Spirit bit his lip and took a step back, fully expecting Senpai to completely lose his shit within the next few seconds. Senpai began to hyperventilate, looking at the tissue with a look of pure distain. Senpai suddenly slammed the tissue to the side and pulled the table drawer open, his eyes set on a certain black rectangle. He pulled it out and held it up so (Y/N) could see it, and their eyes widened with fear and regret, instantly recognizing it as a taser.

"Do ANYTHING like that again, and this is going straight into your neck, understand?! God, how many times do we have to fucking TELL YOU, (Y/N)?!" Senpai screamed, punching the sides of the bed harshly. (Y/N)'s breathing was quick and heavy, the fear on their face as clear as day. Tears pricked at the corners of their eyes as they were reduced to the bearer of Senpai's rage, Spirit standing in calm silence as Senpai yelled on about what they had been trying to tell (Y/N) for almost a year now.

"You're so fucking GULLIBLE! Without us you'd probably be fucking dead on the side of the road! You think you can just go do whatever the fuck you want with whoever, and then treat us like we're fucking disposable trash?! You sick WORM." Senpai went on and on, even at one point grabbing (Y/N)'s shoulders and shaking them harshly. He was pissed, and Spirit saw his anger as justified. "We're doing this all for YOU! We love YOU! We NEED you, and you need US!" Tears began to fall from Senpai's eyes just as (Y/N) began fearfully sobbing as well, but Senpai's tears were more of frustration and anger than crippling fear. "We love you (Y/N), please, we just want to take care of you, you're our everything! Please!" Senpai choked back sobs as (Y/N) continued crying themselves. "Nobody else can love you like we do, they just can't keep you safe like we can, we'd do anything for you, we just want you to be happy..." Senpai sniffled, but (Y/N) didn't respond.

Spirit didn't feel bad for (Y/N). They wouldn't be here right now if (Y/N) would just learn how to listen. They were doing this for love, for repayment for all the effort (Y/N) put into making sure they were alive and well. (Y/N) saved them. Before Spirit knew it, Senpai seemed satisfied with the agressive lecture, and replaced his seething anger and flowing tears with a cutesy giggle and a wipe of the eyes. "You're just so hopeless, (Y/N)...but that's fine, some people just aren't meant to take care of themselves!"

It was almost scary how quickly Senpai could switch between moods, but who was Spirit to judge? Rejection was never in Sen's programming, and he was meant to be a hopeless romantic almost all of the time, so he really couldn't blame Senpai for having...less than stable moods.

"You're so lucky you have us dolly, where would you even be without us?" Senpai gushed, and Spirit couldn't help but agree. The two of them could tell (Y/N) clearly wanted to detest that, but they didn't care. Their input was irrelevant, since they didn't at all know what they wanted or needed.

Senpai hummed happily, curling (Y/N)'s lips upward in the shape of a smile with his finger. The skin of his digits were soaked at this point, as tears were pooling from (Y/N)'s eyes as they tried squirming away so desperately from his vice grip. Spirit cupped his one cheek with his hand and held (Y/N)'s trembling one in his other, smiling almost as brightly as Senpai.

They deserved this. They deserved something nice after that that bastard put them through. And, this was it. Their present, their compensation, their reward.

Their soulmate.

Senpai giggled, and Spirit followed soon after, the two of them looking at each other as if they were reading the others thoughts perfectly. Senpai turned to (Y/N), that smile still just as strong as it was before.

"Now, go on...tell us you love us~"

#yandere x darling #yandere senpai #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere friday night funkin #yandere fnf #spirit fnf x reader #yandere spirit #friday night funkin spirit #spirit friday night funkin #spirit x reader #spirit fnf #fnf spirit #senpai #fnf senpai x reader #senpai x reader #yandere senpai fnf #yandere senpai x reader #fnf senpai #yandere prompts #yandere poly #poly yandere #poly x reader

[gelo-p]

It may be a long request, but what memorable moments (scenes) for each characters from OddTaxi caught your eyes the most ? (included images as well) It will be interesting to hear it from you, as someone who reviewed each episode of this series.(and was fun to read) I can wait if this take some time to answer back, no need to rush(> ◡ 0) Honestly ,this show is so unique & such an underrated gem!! It's like you said: "DAMN. ODDTAXI WHY YOU SO GOOD"

LOL thanks, I’m flattered that you found my weekly ramblings fun to read ^^; I didn’t intend to review the series though. I was planning to just make a series of minor complaints about an otherwise good story, but... well. It was clear by episode 5 that the writing was deeper than I thought.

Having said that, here are my favorite moments for each characters anyway!

(●'◡'●)

------

Taeko-san

Episode 8.

Suddenly acting all cutesy and embarrassed ^^;

------

Nagashima

Episode 1.

I was just surprised to find that he’s in the first 5 minutes of episode 1.

------

Kabasawa

Episode 9.

DEYM, SON @_@

Maaaaybe focus on catching Dobu? Also what the hell, 10k yen to assist on catching Dobu???

Slow clap. Brilliant, mate.

Episode 9.

I did feel bad for him though. In his pursuit of fame, he’s bitten more than he could chew. This scene stood out to me for a different reason though:

Who apologizes in less than a minute???

------

Shibagaki

Episode 6.

It didn’t initially carry much weight, but once you realize he did this to try and remain relevant in the entertainment world, it’s kinda sad. Especially with Baba getting all the attention recently.

Episode 6, ending credits.

------

Baba

Episode 6, ending credits.

Contrast to Shibagaki, Baba is experiencing one hell of a high in his career. Can’t entirely blame him for not focusing too much attention on the N-1 contest anymore. This entire exchange with Shibagaki was so memorable because... it just shows how different their careers have become.

Also, just right before this scene, it was shown that

HE’S ACTUALLY DATING NIKAIDO WTF

------

Kuroda

Episode 3.

This scene where Kakihana thought Kuroda was talking to him was just hilarious. Not to mention once you hear him speak, you realize...

He’s voiced by this guy.

-----

Donraku

Episode 1.

This annoyed the hell out of me. I thought this was one of those typical Japanese TV commentary panels. When I wondered if “Don-chan” might be Donraku, I thought of this scene and concluded “Nah, can’t be him. Would you act all calm - let alone appear on TV like that - if your daughter was missing? Nah.”

How wrong I was of course, but this scene has always stuck in my head.

Of course, the president of the agency being in the shot was probably meant as a clue of some sort... But we didn’t know that yet, did we?

Episode 11.

------

Kakihana

Episode 5.

This was just so awkward to watch. 🤦‍♂️

Episode 9.

I still feel bad for him at the end of it all, of course. He just wants to move on and throws the ring away... but he realizes how much it cost. ^^;

(Finally, of course there’s also that scene with Kuroda from earlier)

------

Tanaka

Episode 4.

This scene. I’ve ranted about it before already :v

Episode 9.

Does this count? Of course we now know that this was actually Little Daimon, but at the time, I was so annoyed at how overpowered Tanaka was made to be.

------

Imai

Episode 8.

Episode 11.

Imai’s love for Mystery Kiss (well, Nikaido) is probably greater than all our love for ODDTAXI combined.

A true man of culture.

------

Big Daimon

Episode 1.

DIRTY COP! DIRTY COP RIGHT HERE- *bang* ughh

------

Little Daimon

Episode 7.

This was the moment I started considering that Odokawa really has nothing to hide in his closet. It would have been extremely risky for him, considering how straight of a cop (albeit a little naive) Little Daimon is.

Episode 12.

This was a genuinely sad moment for me. Your brother, who you decided to punish evil with, was part of the evil you’ve been trying to punish all along. That’s gotta hurt, man.

------

Dobu

Episode 9.

Dobu’s actually quite a nice guy, huh? I mean, yeah, not really, but come on. He did let Kabasawa off with a life lesson instead of a more serious beating.

Episode 10.

Really? :))

Episode 12.

Again, DOBU SHOULD HAVE JUST SHUT UP. “IT’S A SILHOUETTE BRO,  THAT’S NOT ME, WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT.”

Also, I kinda refuse to believe Dobu would use his silhouette for the game. We couldn’t even tell who the hell ditch-11 was but suddenly *poof* it’s Dobu’s silhouette!

I would have preferred if Tanaka’s story of sending a message was true. It would be much more believable. Then Tanaka sends another message to ditch-11 then and there...

And then Dobu’s phone rings. Surprised pikachu face.

Also, Dobu quit playing some time ago but was still Rank 1??? What the hell?

------

Yano

Episode 7.

When Yano was introduced, I was amazed that they actually made him rhyme all his lines (or at least introduce some rhythm). Even the translation was keeping up!

Episode 8.

He’s an asshole, but he makes funny faces.

Episode 12.

Funny faces :))

------

Sekiguchi

Episode 10.

Sekiguchi provides a very good example of how bad guys can use your social media data. This is practically a PSA.

DON’T POST TOO MUCH PERSONAL INFORMATION ONLINE!!

Episode 11.

I still need an explanation why Nikaido had to do the lifting WHEN SEKIGUCHI, A LITERAL HUGE THUG, IS RIGHT THERE. It’s not like he doesn’t want to get his hands dirty, he’s already filthy AF at the 2nd pic!!

Episode 12.

About to be “arrested”, still worried about Yano’s rhyming. ^^;

------

Yamamoto

Episode 2.

Right off the bat, we immediately know that he... has his own share of secrets.

Episode 5.

...But that he also genuinely cares for the girls.

...To some extent, as shown in that entire taxi ride :))

------

Ichimura

Episode 3.

“Oh no.”

Obviously, anybody who shows interest in you, Kakihana, after you misrepresent your salary... probably should be red-flagged. Of course, we the viewers immediately know that she’s being tailed by her manager, so we have an idea that she’s being roped into it.

Episode 8.

I can’t even-

------

Nikaido

Episode 2.

This Nikaido - she’s seen some things.

Episode 7.

Damn, probably done some things as well! D:

Also, that entire thing where Sekiguchi refused to carry Mitsuya’s body?

Nikaido is strong!!!

Idols are scary, man.

------

Mitsuya

Episode 11.

It’s saddening because Mitsuya genuinely wanted to support Nikaido. Had she not gone to the office that night, things would have been much different for all of us.

------

Wadagaki

Episode 5.

“Why is she helping Tanaka???” Of course, I thought she was Mitsuya at this point.

Also, she really loves karaage, huh. I wondered if that was a clue, but I guess not. ^^

...It’s not, right..?

Episode 13.

Need I say more about this scene?

------

Goriki

Episode 1.

THIS WAS CONFUSING, MAN.

Episode 1.

Also, that entire exchange about cassette tapes and Bruce Springsteen ^^;

“Damn these guys are old” LOL

-----

Odokawa

Episode 1.

I like how... rude he is :))

Episode 3.

And so done with bullshit :))

Episode 8.

I do remember when he sneezed while taking the photo, in order to hide the shutter sound. Smart :^)

...

Odokawa’s in a weird position because even though he’s the main character, I remember him more for moving the story rather than being a character, if that makes sense. Sorry! >_<

Episode 13.

Of course, there’s the entire sequence of him flying his taxi... But again, that’s more of a nod to the story, not him. If it counts as “memorable scene involving Odokawa”, then there you go! That final sequence was just beautiful to watch. ^^

------

AND FINALLY!

------

Shirakawa

Episode 2.

Shirakawa’s just a straight-up lovable character. I love that Odokawa can’t handle her XD That entire taxi ride scene was just brilliant.

Episode 2.

And then she tops it all off with that power move with the front camera.

Episode 3.

PLUS SHE CAN DO CAPOEIRA!

Episode 10.

ACTUALLY USABLE-IN-COMBAT CAPOEIRA!

Episode 13.

EVEN UNDERWATER!

Where do I sign up for the Church of Shirakawa???

Shirakawa’s just too damn memorable for me. ^^;

------

Goddamn that was the longest ask I’ve ever answered. I hope my answers were at least satisfactory XD

ODDTAXI AOTY!!

(I didn’t realize answering this kind of question would be hard work :’D Compiling screenshots to make a somewhat objective point is surprisingly easier, huh)

#odd taxi #oddtaxi

[gildedmuse]

do you like any of the one piece manga colorspreads? if yes, which ones?

I typed up a very long response to this, but since I'm still getting use to my new phone I managed to accidentally close the window.

Here's a outline:

I only started the series a little over a year ago because all my siblings watched it and I wanted in on that sweet bonding time. I didn't even expect to like it honestly, though they changed fairly quickly. I have plans to read the manga, but I'm still working through the series (what I post on this blog is pretty much where I am in the show more or less.

Since I've never read the manga I have no fucking clue what these things are or if they have some kind of deeper meaning. I barely know what chapter or arc they're from.

I totally have favorites. Some of them have Zoro in them so obviously.

Strawhat Story Time

Honestly, this has to be canon, right? If it isn't it needs to be. I want Robin to take out a book and read the rest of the crew to sleep everytime they are stuck on an island for the night. Of course, I have no idea what she's reading since this is Nico Robin we're talking about; it could be an overly cutesy fairy tale adventure, a dry government approved text on the history of the Grand Line, or just a book of the most gruesome deaths ever recorded (I hope she switches it up every Island or so) but I'd like to think which ever of the possible options Brook always accompanies here with an appropriate backing sound track.

Meanwhile you have Usopp and Chopper looking totally enrapt. Which makes sense. Usopp, of course, loves a good story. I know he's an amazing marksman and all, but part of me still wishes his role on the ship was the chronicler of their adventures or maybe just storyteller. And baby brother Chopper is still innocent enough to fill with wonder as the events unfold, worried the scary looking big dog and kitty cat will never get along and be friends like he so wants.

Then there is Nami, just content to listen while Robin does her thing. Honestly, she's probably just happen no one is actively trying to kill them at the moment. Plus they're camping which saves money so, yeah, she happy.

Neither Sanji nor Franky will be able to tell you what the story is about after she finishes. Sanji because apparently being read to like a child is a big turn on for him. Franky because, well, poor guy is already half asleep. His eyes are open but only just. It gives off big team mom and dad vibes. Franky probably spent his day fixing the ship, watching and playing with the three youngest brothers, keeping the older two from killing each other, and helping Nami as needed. Dude is exhausted, but he's trying to stay up and enjoy this little family moment.

Unlike Luffy and Zoro who are both dead asleep. Neither of them seem like big bedtime story guys. Luffy passes out instantly anyway and is really only interesting in stories if they can tell him something fun to do. Zoro doesn't even care about that. Stories are either are up in which case why bother or they've already happened I'm which case who cares?

Knights Of The Sunny's Dinner Table

A lot of these I like just got the weird AU settings. Like medieval king Luffy surrounded by his knights (plus whatever Nami is suppose to be.) A few observations:

- Usopp'd knight outfit makes him look sort of like Hercules'n and is perfect.

- Brook has a lute why not just make him the bard! Full metal plate armour is heavy. Brook doesn't have the muscle for that. he doesn't have muscles at all (yohohoho!)

- Chopper is fucking adorable

-. Zoro is obviously Luffy s personal knight and protector. Fight me on it. Love how his jolly roger is on his armour. I assume that means that even back then he fought three sword style.

Zoro Is ON A Cat

I just like this one okay? First, shout out to Usopp who looks completely balling. Second, did Zoro defeat a giant panther in a fightnjust so he could ride around on it? I think we all know he did.

That's like the first time I've seen him wear his bandana like that. I approve.

Rainbows And Rock N Roll

Hey, you guys remember that time the Strawhat started a band? No? Oh, right, that's because all recordings of them were destroyed for public safety reasons.

It makes so much sense to stick Luffy with symbols. Like yeah, of course he'd be in the band but how many instruments would you trust him with, really? Where as Usopp seems smart enough that he could easily learn guitar.

Zoro as the drummer also makes perfect sense. He gets to hit things real heard and he's like a steady presence on the crew. The only problem with this drawing? Why no third drumstick in his mouth. Do you coward. You should have gone three stick style.

Also I'd be all about a modern AU where these idiots start a band. And the only bar that will have them just happens to be the one a young medical student visits. He absolutely hates their music, it's loud and annoying and they don't seem to practice or even have a plan, they just get up on stage and chaos ensues. And people absolutely love them. He doesn't understand and yet.... He keeps coming back, every Friday like clockwork.

If nothing else the obnoxious boy with the symbols whose role seems to be bouncing around stage, hanging them together whenever he feels, rallying the crowd and random back up vocals has some amazing sexual chemistry with the silent drummer guy in the back, the one to rocking green hair probably because he thinks it makes him look punk. Like.... It's almost frustrating when he hears girls swooning over them because come on. That can't all just be an act, right? What if they haven't realized it yet? What if they're just that unaware. Law would be more than happy to fill them in provided they thank him with a place in ghei- oh God how much has he had to drink tonight? Fuck he hates The Strawhat Pirates. It's not even a good band name!

ETA: New phone problem. It posted before I was done. I guess I'll do the other seven in a separate post.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #monkey d. luffy #ask and you shall receive #one piece manga #one piece au #nico robin #tony tony chopper #usopp #nami #storytime with nico robin #The Strawhat Pirates #zolaw #zoroxlawxluffy #zolu #the zolaw au nobody asked for #ask and reply

[whumper-boi]

Sup y’all 🤠

So did I finish the second prompt? No🖤 but I’ve got some new food for y’all, so eat up

@whump-advent-calendar thank you for the prompt, as always!

“Do NOT make me strangle you with the fucking wreath.”

“Tristan, I would highly enjoy watching you attempt to out plan me. See, you may best me at in fighting and sparring, but I’m quite literally a genius.” Martin threw a wad of paper at him. “So how about you take your wreath and shitty opinion, and shove it up your ass.”

Tristan was trying not to get arrested that night. It was nearly two in the morning, the boys had been up, arguing on how to decorate the house before their fathers came back.

Oliver and Nick had driven four hours away to London, something about a package or whatever, Tristan didn’t exactly listen. The only thing he did fully remember was “Boys, no fighting.”

That was the one thing they weren’t listening to.

See Martin wanted to do something like a Nightmare before Christmas Theme, seeing as “every single goddamn year, their house was literally a ball of bright lights and cutesy decoration. I don’t hate it, but I don’t fucking like it either”.

Tristan, on the other hand, wanted to stick with the classics, because it’s supposed to be a festive time, and Martin wasn’t going to goth up this his favourite holiday. Martin looked like he was going to throw up if he brought out any more gold tinsel.

“Why can’t you just stick with halloween? It’s literally your favourite.” Tristan asked, rubbing his temples.

Martin glared at him. “That’s because every year I attempt to decorate, those stupid fucking neighbor kids get “scared” of the decorations, and their parents keep calling the police and forcing me to take it down.”

He was right though. They weren’t even that scary. At one point in time, he put out a mock skeleton in the front yard, it even had a laughable face, and when they walked by? Screams, cries, running, you name it. It didn’t help Martin’s frustration that they literally went as creepy clowns and drove by to look at other highly decorated houses.

“Right… Hey, it’s not my fault they don’t like you.” He could tell that his brother wasn’t going to like whatever came out of his mouth next. “Just don’t take them down then.”

“What are you failing to understand about them phoning the police every year? And even if I didn’t listen, I’m sure they would find some way to destroy it. That’s not the point though, I don’t want to do the same thing again this year.”

Tristan rolled his eyes. “Then you can go in your room and not look at them. That simple.”

He huffed, moving to the couch. Majesty, his service dog, side-eyed him, but didn’t move. Tristan glared at him, but didn’t say anything, going to get the rest of the decorations. Martin huffed again, only louder this time. He tried to ignore it, but the other boy was really getting on his fucking nerves. He did it again, and Tristan promptly threw a box of string lights at his head.

“You’re literally the worst Martin.”

Martin scrunched his nose. “At least my mother isn’t a deadbeat.”

“Your mother is emotionally abusive, do you want to have this conversation right now?” There was a beat of silence. “I know you’re not pouting. It’s Christmas decorations Martin, are you really gonna get pissy now?”

When was he not incredibly pissy though? That’s the question. “Fuck off.”

“Can you shut up? For like, two minutes, please?” Martin took out his phone. Tristan hoped that he was going to just stay curled up on the couch, and not bug him, but it was brother.

The slightly older boy left the room, and he thought that he was going to get time alone to decorate, until he came back in with a large speaker.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Martin grinned at him. “Shutting up, just as you requested.” It was silent for a few seconds before Korn’s version of ‘Kidnap the Santy claws’ from The nightmare before Christmas blasted, full volume.

Majesty had left the room with Martin the first time, and he assumed that Martin told him to go lay down because of what he was about to do. Tristan felt his teeth clench together, then he looked at the tinsel.

“Oh, you’re about to hate me,” he muttered, going to pick it up.

Martin still had that insufferable look on his face, the one that screamed ‘god complex’. “And how so, my wonderful sibling?”

————-

It had taken him two and a half very painful, very hate filled hours, but he did it. He might have a scar that will never go away now, he might get murdered in his sleep, and he most surely would have to watch his back for the next month because his brother was well, Martin, but it was worth it.

His brother was bonded, his wrists and arms tied behind him, ankles and knees tied, and a small plastic ornament was shoved into his mouth. There was an actual rope attached to his waste, hanging him from the ceiling. On his back and head was a pair of fake wings and a halo’ making him into a hanging angel.

“So… what do you think?”

Martin made no noise of response, he didn’t even glare at him, or move for that matter. The only reason that Tristan could tell that he heard him was the malice dancing in his brother’s green eyes.

He came to the conclusion that he would need a fifteen minute headstart when Martin eventually got down. Until then, he continued to decorate, saying that he would let him down in about, thirty minutes, give or take.

See, the thing about Martin was that he was very good at hiding anything he was feeling, and he was petty, and very quiet. So when, three hours later, when Tristan had just finished the outside in the normal decorations, and both their fathers came back, he realized that he fucked up.

Badly.

“Hey Trish,” Nick said, getting out of the car. “The house looks great. You did all of this?” It was only when Tristan actually turned around to face him, did the two men’s faces grow in concern. “What happened to your face?”

Well it wasn’t like he didn’t know what they were talking about. He had been punched, spit on, bit, kicked, basically Martin’s way of saying that he was not going to easily comply with being hung on the ceiling.

“Yeah, well, Mars and I got into a little… disagreement.” Oliver and Nick looked at each other. “Let me explain. So he wanted to decorate a little differently this year, you know, and I wanted to remain the same. Tradition, and all that.”

“I’m going to infer that Mars didn’t exactly say ‘alright’ and let you do your thing? Where is he, anyway?” Oliver asked, looking at the door.

“We actually came to a compromise, believe it or not.”

Nick raised an eyebrow. “Believe it or not, I don’t.”

“What was the compromise?”

Tristan gave a little laugh. “So, yeah, I got to decorate the house, and Martin, well he gets to have a… figure that’s close to his style.”

He could tell that they weren’t picking up what he was saying. “Cut the bullshit kid, what happened?”

Tristan motioned to the door. “After you two.” They looked at him warily, entering the house. They looked around, before pausing at the closed parlor door. “So, you guys have fun with that, I actually need to get a headstart.”

Oliver opened the door. “Oh god.”

All three of them peered in. Martin was still hanging there, looking so calm that Tristan assumed he was dead. Until they locked eyes.

Nick whistled slowly. “Oh he’s pissed.”

“So, I’ll be going off the grid. See y’all in fifty years.” He turned around and went right back out the front door. He probably wasn’t going to survive the night, but oh well. At least the house looked nice.

#wac2020 #whump #tied up #Angel #christmas #whumpee #whumper #arguing #siblings #service dog #it’s mostly just two teenage boys being petty #korn band #the nightmare before christmas #whump prompt #writing prompts #whump drabble #tw cursing

[stenbrozier]

Step Away (Teen!Richie Tozier x Teen!Kaspbrak!Reader)

Plot: Richie is fucking both you and your brother Eddie, though he’s dating you and only fucked Eddie once. Eddie ended up telling you about it, and then you go to Richie’s a few day later and confront him about it.

Warnings: swearing, mentions and descriptions of sex + fighting w/ lots of yelling, bi!Richie, gay!Eddie, and mentions of cheating.

——————————————————————————

“But (Y/N), Richie is so good with his dick,” Eddie said nonchalantly, blushing as he saw the side eye you gave him after you looked up from the book you were reading. “Like, I didn’t expect him to be so good. I thought he was bluffing.” He scoffed and sat up on your bed, ruffling his hair to get it out of his eyes.

“Sounds great, Ed,” you whispered back, sighing as you felt tears burning your eyes as the threatened to fall down your face. “I’m getting kind of tired.” You sniffled softly, looking up to your twin brother who laid across your bed as you scrunched up by your pillow. He looked back at you, a gleam of sadness in his eyes that showed you that he wanted to tell you more, but instead, Eddie nodded sadly.

“I thought we were going to have a movie night while Mom’s gone for the month.” Ed furrowed his eyebrows at you as you shrugged.

“We’ll...we’ll do one tomorrow, okay? I just, I’m just really tired,” you confessed. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled at you and shook his head, waving his hand in a way that told you to dismiss your apology.

“It’s okay,” Eddie replied, getting up and giving you a hug. “Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too, Eds.” You watched him leave the room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

You brought your knees up to your chest, feeling the tears you had been holding back run down your face in a silent heat. You were going to kill Richie the next time you saw him.

—————————-

You marched up to the front door of the Tozier residence, knocking more urgently than usual but not so hard you alarmed his parents. Mrs. Tozier opened the door, greeting you with a soft smile and a hug. You and Richie had been together for a few months, and she became your “sane mother”, as she put it. She let you in the house, and you waved at Mr. Tozier who you could see was doing the crosswords in the newspaper in the dining room to the right of you.

“He’s just up in his room,” Maggie said, pointing up to the top of the steps. “Would you like to stay for dinner? It should be ready any minute.”

You thought for a second. Eddie was at Stan’s for dinner tonight, so you would’ve been alone anyway. You nodded with a smile.

“I’d love to join you guys,” you replied. “Thank you very much, Mrs. Tozier.”

She kissed the top of your head before walking back into the kitchen through the dining room. You walked up the creaky wooden steps, taking a right turn deeper into the upstairs. You knocked on the door softly and turned the knob when you heard a soft “come in.” Richie saw you and smiled, coming over to wrap you in his arms. You avoided him, scooting to the side quickly. He looked at you confused, and you walked around him to sit at his desk.

“Hello to you, too,” Richie murmured sassily. “What’s got your panties in a bunch? Are you horny?” He raised his eyebrows up and down while you scoffed.

“You should know what my fucking problem is,” you snapped, shrugging your shoulders and folding your arms.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Richie practically yelled back. There was a bite in his voice, one you’d never heard.

You were about to answer when his mom yelled up the stairs that it was time for dinner. You stood up first, going down with Richie hot on your tail. When you guys sat down at the table, Maggie looked at you with what seemed to be remorse.

“I completely forgot to offer up the telephone so that you could call Sonia and tell her where you were here,” she admitted, a hint of nervousness in her voice. “I know how she gets.” You shook your head, taking your knife and fork and cutting the lasagna on your plate.

“Don’t worry about it. She isn’t home anyways. She left Eddie and I for the month so that she could visit family in Augusta.” You sighed, putting a piece of food in your mouth and chewing it throughly. “And Eds is at Stanley’s tonight anyway. He went to go help him work on his car I think. So I would’ve been alone. It’s all much appreciated.” Maggie smiled at you, and then looked over at Richie who snickered.

“You okay, Rich?” Went asked, reading his wife’s mind.

“Yeah. It’s just that I don’t think Eddie is at Stanley’s. I saw him at Keene’s a little over an hour ago.” Richie shrugged his shoulders as he finished his prattle.

“Well, he had work today, too. He’s been working a lot lately,” you said spitefully, continuing to eat your food as the table went silent.

You took a sip of your water and eventually finished up your food, thanking Maggie again as you and Richie retreated back up to his room. When you were both in, he shut the door and sat across from you on his bed. He tried to reach for your hand, but you pulled away.

“Baby, what’s going-“ You slammer your hand against the bed, a soft thump coming from the motion.

“Don’t fucking call me ‘baby.’” You stood up angrily, pacing before looking back at the dumbfounded boy who sat in front of you. “Fucking my brother, Richie?! Behind my back?! When we’ve been dating for months!”

Richie’s eyes went wide, and he cursed at himself internally. He didn’t mean for it to happen, but when Eddie slept over the other night, one thing lead to another, and suddenly, Eddie had Richie’s dick in his mouth and was begging for him to fuck him. You saw the way Richie’s demeanor changed and you smirked bitterly, emitting a huff from your nose.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” you said loudly through gritted teeth. hoping his parents didn’t hear you. “He’s my brother, Rich. My twin brother, for that matter.” You felt tears welling up and falling down your face.

“I-it was an accident, (Y/N)!” Richie stood up, trying to grab your hands as you flailed them to avoid him. Eventually, he pinned them at your sides, causing you too look at him. “One thing led to another, and before I knew it, we were naked laying in my bed. I want you, not Eddie.”

You shook your head, looking him directly in his eyes with malice coursing through your veins. “You can’t accidentally do anal with my brother. That makes you sound like an idiot. Honestly, you are one, but not that idiotic. We’ve been together for months, Richie. Why would you do this to me?”

You yanked yourself out of his grasp and walked over to look out his window. It was starting to get dark, and you checked your watch, seeing that it was almost 8 o’clock. You shook your head and turned back to Richie.

“Him or me,” you yelled. “It’s either you keep fucking him or you keep me. You can’t have both. I’m not gonna give you all the cutesy sides of dating when he gets to fuck you.”

Richie stammered as he looked at you, his mouth opening and closing like a cod fish. You nodded your head, grabbing the sweater you had discarded on his bed when you walked in. You stormed out of his room, and his heavy footsteps followed you.

“(Y/N), come on,” he begged, trying to walk next to you on the stairs, but you just moved faster. “Baby!” You ignored him, peeking your head into the living room to say another thank you and a goodbye to the Toziers. They watched as Richie followed you outside, and they shared a knowing look.

“Stop fucking following me,” you screamed, scaring him into silence. “You had the audacity to tell me you loved me, you told me you fucking loved me Richie, and then you go and have sex with my brother.”

The streetlights were starting to turn on, and you knew you were probably disturbing family dinners or the people that were on their late night walks with their dogs or kids, but you didn’t care. Richie was a scumbag.

“I fucking told you that I wanted you,” he screamed back, his voice cracking. “I fucking told love you and I still do. What happened between Eddie and I was a mistake, I’ll admit it, but with you it’s so much more.” He wiped tears off of his cheeks as he jabbed a finger at you. “I love you. You’re my everything. Fucking Eddie was wrong, and I regret it. Deeply.”

“Eddie doesn’t,” you answered, your voice had dropped to a scary volume, slightly above a whisper. “He wouldn’t stop going on and on about how good you felt when he was telling me about it. And I’m all for Eddie figuring himself out, believe me, but not with my boyfriend, Rich. I love you, too, but I can’t be with you if you’re gonna fuck other people.”

Richie’s heart sank even further into his chest, and his breathing picked up. “Don’t break up with me. Please.”

He walked closer to you, testing the waters as he reached out for you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, and you let him but fought the urge to hug him back. Richie was crying into your shoulder, leaving small kisses on the junction where your neck connected with your shoulder.

“Please,” he whispered. You felt his hot years on your skin, and you couldn’t help but hug him back. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” you sighed out. “But, you’re going to tell Eddie you’re done with him and tell him it didn’t mean a thing. We’re going to come clean about us being together to everyone, even your parents.” You pushed him away from you so you could look him in the eyes. “And don’t think I’m going to forget about all of this. We’re going to take a break, I don’t know how long, but I need time to think on this.”

“Eddie is gonna be so pissed at me,” Richie mumbled to himself, gripping your waist tighter. “He’d kill me for breaking your heart and then resurrect me to kill me again for breaking his.” You shrugged, bringing your hand up to tuck a strand of the mess of curls that sat on top of his head behind his ear.

“You did this to yourself,” you softly responded, pulling away fully. “You’re going to tell him in person, too. None of that pussy bullshit.” He nodded, looking down at his feet as he sniffled.

“And when I do it?” he asked, hoping he’d get the answer he wanted. All Richie wanted was for you to be his.

“You’ll wait until I say we can get back together.” That wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “You hurt me. I need time to heal.”

“What if when you heal, you don’t love me anymore?” he whispered, a new string of tears falling down his face. “What if you forget about me?”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were 12, asshat,” you replied. “I’m not just going to stop so suddenly.”

“I’ll tell Eds this weekend,” Richie said, biting his lip. “And then I’ll call you. After that, you’ll get your space.” Richie went to reach up and cup your cheek, but you shook your head ‘no.’

“Don’t make it even harder,” you whimpered, tears steaming down your face as you started to retreat down the sidewalk back home. “Thank you. I’ll see you, Rich. I love you, seriously. I really do.”

He sniffled and nodded, watching as you made it halfway to the sidewalk before he yelled back at you. “I’m so fucking in love with you, it’s going to kill me!”

You shook your head, looking back over your shoulder, to see him standing with his hand tucked into the pockets of his zip up hoodie and a huge grin on his face. You smiled back softly, the love you held for him running through your head.

#richie tozier smut #richie tozier headcanons #richie tozier x reader #richie tozier x you #eddie kaspbrak headcanons #eddie kaspbrak x reader #eddie kaspbrak #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak smut #masterlist

[happykawa]

[ goldfish ] t.k

afsghjkdls ive got some writing juice i gotta use before it expires shdjhskj everyone’s 18+ and in college and this isn’t proofread sorry if its long

You help clean the volleyball court as the rest of the members pack their things. Today had been a fairly good day for training. Everything went smoothly, well, as smooth as things could go in the team. 

You say your goodbyes to your seniors before you head the opposite way with Tadashi and Tsukishima. 

“Say, y/n-chan,” Tadashi starts and you turn to him.

“Hm?”

 “How’s it going with your crush?” Tadashi asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Tsukishima remains nonchalant, though he does turn to you.

You feel your ears turn pink and you look away, afraid your eyes may reveal something clandestine.

“Nothing, still. I haven’t gathered up the courage to confess.” You chuckle nervously, rubbing the back of your head. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Tsukishima look away in disinterest, and you feel your heart break a little. Just a little though.

Tadashi sighs. “Maybe if you just told us we could help you!” He pokes your side with his elbow.

“N-no, no thanks. I feel like that would just make things even more complicated, and I wanna do it on my own terms.” You give Tadashi an apologetic smile, letting your eyes glance over to a certain blond for a split second.

That was an understatement. Telling Tadashi would make things much much more complicated, considering your crush was none other than the snarky blonde on the opposite side of your small group.

“Okay, I can respect that.” 

The rest of the walk is silent, and Tadashi eventually branches off to his street, leaving you alone with the one and only Tsukishima.

You could never really pinpoint when you started having a crush on Tsukishima. Next to Tadashi, you’ve known him the longest, so it’s definitely hard to say when it exactly started, given all the time you’ve spent together.

However, if you were asked, you’d probably say sometime before high school. When you realised it, you were terrified to say the least. Falling for the crankiest person you know isn’t exactly ideal.

Furthermore, Tsukki never really showed interest in romance, so for all your years of friendship, you don’t know anything about his preferences or his tells.

Recently, you’ve grown hyper aware of your emotions, due to spending even more time with him as an assistant manager of the volleyball club. It’s quite the miracle that you’re not a tomato now given your close proximity to the him. 

“Oi, don’t think too much, you might use your last brain cell.” A cool voice breaks you out of your reverie.

You huff and pout. “Tsukishima, you’re so mean. I have more than one brain cell you know. I can afford to think.”

“I’m surprised you even have one left, with how you were looking earlier with physics.” He snickers.

You slap his arm. “Well not all of us have an unlimited supply, you know. I have to make do with what I have.”

“Two brain cells?” He snickers once again.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yes, thank you very much.”

“Both working?”

“Okay, now that’s just mean.” You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help it if one of them decidedly thinks about–my crush.” You quickly save yourself the slip up of nearly saying ‘you’. You give yourself an internal pat on the back.

Seeing as you’ve entered the topic of your ‘crush’, you take the rare opportunity to subtly ask him about it. “Say, Tsukishima, if a girl were to confess to you, how would you want it to go, ideally?”

“I’d want her to make me king of the Japan, before gifting me with an Ankylosaurus army to take over the world with. Maybe a torture chamber for the king and the shrimp.”

You scoff. “That’s ridiculous, you can’t even ride an Ankylosaurus, how the hell would you use it to take over the world?”

You hear what you can only think of as a chuckle from Tsukishima. “It’s more plausible than the question you’re asking me. Of all the people, really. Do I look like a person who cares about that stuff?”

“Well, I just thought, you’re a guy, you ought’a know, right? I’m sorry for assuming the best of you.” You huff out again.

“It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s all gonna end the same anyway.”

“How’s that?”

He smiles positively, and your heart is filled with hope, confused hope, but hope nonetheless. 

“I’d happily reject them.” 

Your face falls. “You really are a horrible person.” You grumble.

“I don’t really care for romance. I think it’s useless and burdening, all that obligation and responsibility and for what? Just so you can feel validated by another person? I can do that for myself, and it’d be cheaper too. Plus, it’ll save me from all that nasty crying once we break up.” He replies coldly, and you feel your heart shatter. 

The way he says it doesn’t help. He says it with so much disdain that you can’t help but think about how stupid you are for thinking that that you could ever have a chance with him.

You manage to keep your tears in and your face straight. You can’t look him in the eyes without bursting so you opt for the road ahead of you instead. You feel relief as you catch sight of your house in the distance.

The walk there is filled with nothing but uncomfortable silence. Tsukishima has his headphones on and his face is the same.

‘So that’s how he feels…’ You can’t help but replay his words over and over in your head, and you feel your heart break every time. The only thing keeping the dam together was the embarrassment you now you’d feel if it were to break right now. 

With your house only a few paces away, you quicken your steps. “See you tomorrow, Tsukishima.” You manage to say goodbye without stuttering and you don’t dare look back, for fear that he’ll notice the welling tears in your eyes.

‘…useless and burdening…’

‘…it’ll save me from all that nasty crying once we break up…’

 You run through the door. Too focused on not sobbing, you don’t notice how Tsukishima’s gaze followed you as you ran, nor the concerned look in his eyes.

Turns out, you may have lied to Tsukishima. You didn’t see him the next day, or the day after that, or the rest of the week for that matter. Well, technically, you did. But you avoided all interaction with him at all costs. 

What he said really stung, and while you know it’s not really his fault maybe his parents’ but that’s for another story and it’s not exactly fair to just start ignoring him altogether, it’s also not fair that you fell in love with possibly the world’s most emotionally unavailable man but you aren’t complaining are you? Okay, maybe you are, but that’s besides the point. You’re not ready to face him yet, and you won’t until you are.

The classes you had together were spent with you surrounded by many other people. During volleyball practice, you always arrived when they were deep into training, and you left early as well, with the excuse of having to take care of your brother. You stopped walking home with Tadashi and Tsukishima.

Even during their breaks, you’d be so engrossed in something, be it homework or strategy that they couldn’t even disturb you, which they found strange since you never really were the most diligent student (read: you’re a known lazy ass).

All of the members, save for one particular blonde, tried to talk to you, but you simply waved it off as stress from school. None of them believed you, you know, but they got the message and decided against bothering you for more information.

It’s Saturday and your solid plan of sleeping in is effectively ruined by your phone ringing.

“I swear, I turned off all my alarms, who the fuck calls at–” you glance at your clock, “–six o’clock on a Saturday morning.”

You groan and grab your phone. For a moment you consider throwing it against the wall and going back to sleep.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Devil, how may I help you?” You croak. “Oh, you want to go to hell? Why, stay on this line and you will soon!” You hiss out and look at the caller ID.

SnarKei ([phone]

Okay, you admit, you feel a certain satisfaction at snarking him. Just a little.

“Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed this morning?” He replies in a mocking cutesy voice. “Did the inevitable happen? Have you already been rejected?”

That stings you, and you mumble to yourself. “Something of the sort.” You’re not sure if he hears you though, and you really don’t care. Nope. Not. At. All.

You are met with silence, so you assume that he didn’t hear you, or else he most likely would have poked more fun at your still-bleeding wound.

“What do you want, Tsukishima?”

“Of course you’d forget. You have the memory of a goldfish.” Tsukishima comments bluntly. “We have Saturday training today, goldfish.”

“This early in the morning? Why don’t I remember this being announced?” You yawn and get up from bed.

“Yes, this early, because a big match is near. And you’d remember if, aside from your goldfish memory, you’d actually stayed until the end of training to hear announcements.” You can practically feel Tsukishima looming over you with his scary deadpan.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Tell coach I apologise for being late. I’ll be there in–” You yawn once more. “30 minutes.”

“Make sure you shower well. I can smell your stink from here.” Tsukishima’s infamous smirk pops in your mind and you subconsciously sneer. 

“You’re just smelling yourself.” You retort and end the call. You feel your heart ache, and sigh. At least it’s been reduced to a dull ache now, however troublesome.

‘I’m sure I’ll get over this. Maybe in a week or two.’  You think to yourself as you enter the shower.

You believe you just lied to yourself.

You hear no sound from the gym, and the lights are off. 

You check your watch just to be sure.

7:30 am

‘Okay, what the hell?’ You peek through the windows, maybe they’re practicing with the lights off? That wouldn’t explain the lack of squeaking shoes and balls dropping, though.

“You’re late.”

You jump and turn around. You’re ready to grab the pepper spray in your right boot when you identify the would-be-predator as Tsukishima.

“You scared me.” You breathe out, putting a hand on your racing heart in an attempt to calm it down. It doesn’t stop racing though.

Tsukishima feigns hurt. “What, with my beautiful voice?”

You roll your eyes and fight a smile. “Why’d you tell me there was training?”

“Because otherwise you wouldn’t have come and I wouldn’t find out why you’re avoiding me.” He states it as if he were talking about the weather, rather cheerfully. But you sense the hostility behind that cheerfulness, as any person would.

“I don’t know–” You start talking, but you stop as Tsukihima walks slowly towards you. He stops when he’s only a step away, and you’re suddenly extremely aware of your closeness and his unjust height advantage.

“…what you’re talking about.” You continue in a smaller voice, feeling yourself overwhelmed by Tsukishima’s presence and size. 

He continues to loom over and look down on you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You tentatively look into his eyes, and immediately look away. His golden-brown eyes are intense, and you’re scared that if you look for a second more you won’t be able to look away.

“Because I don’t like liars.”

You snort instinctively. “That’s ironic. Part of your role is deceiving.”

He shrugs. “Deceiving and lying are two different things.”

“Lying is deceiving.” You point out. You don’t notice that you are able to meet his eyes as you challenge him.

“But deceiving is not always lying.” He smirks back, and the two of you get into a staring contest.

You stare into his eyes and you feel yourself getting lost. You look away first, afraid of what might happen or what you might say if you don’t. You fail to notice his faltering smirk.

“So, I assume you didn’t just bring me here for semantics?” You cross you arms over your chest. Your previously calmed heart starts racing again.

Tsukishima takes a small step closer, and you instinctually take one back. “I told you, goldfish, I want to find out why you’re avoiding me.” 

His gaze never leaves your face, and you’re painfully aware of it, so much so that you will your eyes to look at anything but his. You’re tempted to look back, but you know once you do, all your walls will fall.

‘This is so unfair.’ You think to yourself as you start over-analysing Tsukishima’s shoes.

“Why don’t you look me in the eye? Afraid of what you might say?” He taunts you. He’s testing waters, and by the looks of it, he know he’s hit the bullseye.

“N-no. I’m perfectly confident with my words, thank you.” You reply, swallowing the bile in your throat.

He scoffs. “Prove it. Look at me.”

You feel your ears tingle and you attempt to resist, but your pride doesn’t allow it. Reluctantly, you meet his eyes, and you immediately regret it.

They’re fierce and intense, his golden eyes, even more so than before. Your breath is taken away and you forget what you were about to say. 

“Let’s try this one more time,” Tsukishima takes another, larger step forward, and you take one back, or at least, attempt to. Your back hits the wall, and before you know it, you’re cornered. His places his right arm next to your head as he leans over you. You can almost feel his minty breath on your face.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that he doesn’t place his left arm on the other side.

‘He’s giving me a way out.’ You think, and you can’t help but internally smile. He doesn’t want to force you into anything you don’t want, but he’s putting pressure on you. You bit your inner cheek in an attempt to ground yourself.

“Why have you been avoiding me since we last walked home together?” His voice is softer this time, but his intensity doesn’t waver. An emotion flashes in his eyes, you’re not sure what it is. Uncertainty? Hurt?

You swallow the bile in your throat. You feel like you just ran a marathon and your face seems to think so too, if the rising heat in your cheeks is anything to go by.

“I–I…” You fumble around for words, unsure of what to say. The golden irises staring into your soul surely isn’t making it any easier.

‘So much for my two working braincells..’ You say to yourself.

Your brain nearly overheats in attempting to make an excuse. Instead, it settles for giving your irrational courage to confess once and for all.

Knowing what you’re going to say, you are unable to look him in the eyes and deflate

“I was hurt…” You whisper softly, feeling the tears well in your eyes. “…by what you said.”

“Why?” He asks, quieter this time. 

You sigh defeatedly. There’s no point in delaying it now. You feel all the “healing” you went through in your time away dissipate into thin air. The once dull ache is now a stabbing pain in your chest, but you soldier on. 

“Because I like with you. And I idiotically thought that maybe you felt the same way. Yes, it’s dumb. You don’t have to reject me, I know what your answer is, you’ve made yourself perfectly clear about it and–” 

You’re interrupted by a pair of lips pressing against yours. It takes a second for it to register. Until it does.

You hear yourself internally screaming as Tsukishima slowly rises from his awkward position and straightens his back, forcing you to turn your head upwards and tip toe. 

Tsukishima realises this and smirks. He straightens up even more, just a touch too high for your lips.

You don’t even notice that your eyes are closed until you open them to see Tsukishima’s annoying smug face.

“I never grasped how small you are until now.” He teases, and you feel his cool breath brush against your skin.

You’re too flustered to make a retort, and you’re pretty sure your face is red. You take another moment to let the previous events sink in. 

‘Tsukishima…. Kissed… Me…’

He snorts. “Have your two braincells short-circuited?” He gazes down on you, and you see, behind his teasing, is genuine worry.

“You kissed me…” You blink multiple times, and a smile forms on your face as Tsukishima raises a brow. “…first.”

A giddy smile takes over your face, because of the fact that you just stated and the fact that Tsukishima is blushing right now. For once, you aren’t the one avoiding eye contact.

“You kissed me first.” You teased, tipping your toes even more to get a closer look at his blushing face.

“Only because you were putting words in my mouth and you wouldn’t stop.” He mumbles, giving you a sideways glance before looking away as he blushes even more,

You giggle. “Technically, I was putting your words into your mouth. Besides, what was all that ‘I don’t care for romance’ stuff you said?” You poke his warm cheek playfully.

“It’s called lying. And techinically, you confessed first.” It’s your turn to blush and Tsukishima’s to smugly smirk as he pokes your cheek back.

“So, what does this mean? And since when did you figure it out, given this whole set-up?” You mumble, fiddling with the edge of your white shirt with a red “shut up” written on it.

“It means I like you back, even if you have a goldfish brain, goldfish. And you weren’t exactly subtle with the way you got upset last time.” He pokes your cheek once more. His face is back to it’s regular nonchalant state, but you see a twinge of playfulness in his eyes.

You cross your arms over your chest and pout, sneering at him. “I don’t have a goldfish brain. How could I forget something that never existed?” 

“You can’t. Who said anything about training not existing?” He raises a brow.

“Didn’t you call me here to get me to confess?” You deadpan at the memory. “Coward.” You mumble under your breath.

Tsukishima smirks. “I did. But there is training, just not for the university.”

As if on cue, you hear a loud bickering noise.

You both turn to the source and find the old Karasuno team, complete with Hinata and Kageyama bickering.

You beam at the sight and turn to Tsukishima. You nearly tackle him into a hug, regardless of how he may feel about hugs.

He looks away with a light blush dusting his features once more. He uses his free hand to pat you on your head.

“Happy birthday, goldfish.”

fagdhefjks;laLKSJH i dont think i captured tsukki well here, and the part feels rushed. sorry for that idk where this went gg

#tsukishima scenarios #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima kei #tsuki #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyū!! #haikyu headcanons #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu tsukki #haikyuu reader #hq imagines #hq #hq tsukishima #hq images #haikyuu headcanons #tsukishima kei x reader

[chimswae]

BTS Caretaker CH23

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 4, 330

- Author Note: So im late, i will do double update! so please check on next chapter too~ :) thank u for whoever that read my cliche story HAHAHA i have no words to describe how im embarassed i am AHAHHAA anyways ~ 

Previous | Next

Chapter 23

Promotional month embarked the start of everything.  Hectic schedule, unreasonable amount of sleep time in a day, the most would be 2 hours and not to mention the studios and practice rooms would be their second home for the time being. The boys had been practicing non-stop these past few days until their official comeback early in February. This time their popularity soared higher than their previous comeback. It felt like a dream, but the boys did it. Their album sales make it digital or physical had risen drastically in comparison to previous sales.

The impact of Bangtan Sonyeondan to the industry was no joke. More people showed their support and their fanbase grew two times bigger than before in the blink of an eyes. Phenomenal indeed. Overwhelmed by the support, the boys promised to work harder this year to repay Armys’ love. Entering the last week of their You Never Walk Alone promotion, the boys were ready to start their Wings Tour around the globe. Unlike before they went to few continents depending on the demand of the respected country however this time their schedule was utilized for the first half of 2017.

Seul massaged her aching muscle and sunk on the couch with sulky face. The dorm was quiet and cold since none of the boys were home at this time.  They would only be home around dawn to get short nap before heading to their next schedule early in the morning. Following the change of their schedule, Seul would take an evening shift and went to their place right after her shift. So, she could prepare advanced breakfast for them. It became her routine to come around 2 in the morning and stayed for two hours or more, making sure the boys got a proper breakfast despite their busy schedule.

Mrs Hwang on the other hand was well informed pertaining to Seul’s unusual activity and she would make Hoon, more like force his son to pick her sister up every day from work. World is a scary place, she did not want to risk Seul’s life though that girl was the one who insisted to change her caretaking schedule out of sudden.

Glancing on her phone screen, she decided to call it a day since it was already 3 A.M and surprisingly she managed to pull her work within an hour. Seul had informed Hoon in advance so the younger guy would not pick her up considering he had exam the next day. She did not want to be blame for his bad performance later on.

“Should I watch Tae’s drama to kill time?” grinning to herself, Seul made up her mind to catch the latest episode. As she expected, the boys had recorded every episode up till the latest one.

What a supportive boyfriend!

It took Seul a moment to remember the last episode she watched, then it came to her realization she was following the drama diligently every week. Seul never missed any episode since she watched this with her mother. Of course, her mother would watch it, we were talking about her so-called adoptive son on screen.

Satisfied with her choice, Seul sat with her leg cross on the couch gleefully. She was excited to see different side of Taehyung on screen. A side which could only be seen on screen. Indeed, BTS V nailed it so perfectly. There were times Taehyung would give her a call as soon as his drama aired that particular day just to hear her opinion. She couldn’t understand why her opinion matter in this anyways.

 “Seul-seul! Did you watch?” Taehyung’s voice croaked in happiness. Apart from his members comment, Taehyung anticipated Seul’s point of view every week caused him to automatically give the girl a call after a new episode aired.

Seul laughed softly at Taehyung’s weird antic “I watched it Tae” he hummed. “So how was it this week?” he chewed his lower lips knowing how bluntly honest she could be. Taehyung valued her honesty even though sometimes Seul would never leave her sassiness behind, he didn’t care. He basically grew up with Min Suga’s sarcasm so to hear something similar from Seul, he was already immune to it.

“Hurm.. do you want to hear the good one or the bad one first?” she poked fun making Taehyung pouted in his seat.

“I want to hear good one first” Seul could imagine Taehyung’s pouty lips as a protest whenever he was forced to make a complicated choice.

Pressing her lips together to suppress her laughter, Seul regained her composure to have a decent conversation with him “You are certainly better if we were to compare with the episode which you first appeared. You look natural and comfortable with your character now. As I mentioned before, I like how you portray your emotions through your deep eyes. It is not a joke. How did you do that?” she professed earnestly.

Her compliments flustered him “Urm…Thank you..You are flattering me”

“I am not..You really did well Tae. Don’t tell me you are blushing” she teased.

“YAH I AM NOT! Alright, I am ready to hear the bad one” Taehyung murmured under his breath with hope it was not as nasty as her first comment back then. “Listen carefully Kim Taehyung, I am about to say something that might hurt your heart” the tone of her voice was stern and cold.

“Ji Seul you are scaring me! Stop sounding so serious”

“I am trying to, okay give me a moment” he heard her heavy breathing at the end of the line as if she was in the middle of night work out. What was on her mind?

“Tae-ah..I think you are too adorable for me to handle. Shouldn’t Hansung be manlier?”

Taehyung gasped “Is that an insult?” her small giggle tickled his heart. “Or is it your way complimenting me?” he pressed. There were times he craved for this kind of attention from Seul, made him feel normal guy around his age. To have a simple conversation with a friend gave him tranquillity.

“Will you take that as an insult since you really hated cutesy stuff nowadays?”

“Armys think I am cute. I will live with that if it comes from Armys and you. Yah, I am serious. Tell me right now what is my flaw?” he insisted.

Seul shook her head “Couldn’t find it. You are a rookie, but you are doing great. My mom thinks your acting is real and she really into it. Don’t ask me who is her favourite character, because she is choosing you over Minho. Aren’t that too much that she’s giving extra attention on you?” Taehyung beamed.

“Why? Are you jealous that Ahjumma favours me more than you?”

“I am used to it, Bangtan boys this, Bangtan boys that. You can take my mom’s love, I have Eodeng and Eomuk to love me” he cringed at the response. “Ew, that simply means you have Jin hyung’s love. Those two brats are the mini Kim Seokjin” she rolled her eyes in process.

She retorted sarcastically “Who are you calling brat? You are the brat!”

 She found herself smiling at the memories, being with Taehyung made her comfortable. Something that she could feel whenever she’s with Jin and Hoseok. Returning her attention back to the screen, Seul watched the drama and clasped her hand excitedly.  A silly smile would appear on her face every time Taehyung appeared on screen along with small awe in between.

Few months ago, she ridiculed the power of Bangtan Sonyeondan on her now as time passed it slowly turned her into a fan. Guess, she was being supportive of her friends.

Yes, supportive sounds fitting.

 ------------------

“Sejin hyung quick quick my bladder is about to explode” Jimin whiney voice filled the emptiness of the hallway. Other members stood sleepily behind him. Meanwhile, Jimin was getting impatient to finish his business inside. “Gosh, why are you so whiney” he pressed the button hurriedly, entering the password.

As soon as Jimin heard the beep, he squished his small body between the door and Sejin and ran inside ignoring the older guy that were already pressed against the wall.“That kid!” Sejin hissed while shaking his head. He gave a soft pat on Jungkook back, making the maknae moved inside with a big yawn “Get some sleep everyone, you need to be ready in 4 hours” he ordered.

Jungkook screeched softly feeling his muscle stiffened at the sight before him “Seul?” he stared in disbelief. Sleeping peacefully on the couch was Seul with Hwarang still running in the background. A soft smile spread across his face since the last time he saw her was two weeks ago. He almost lost his balance when he felt someone crashed against his body from back, Kim Taehyung groaned in frustration.

“Yah, Gukkie why are you blocking the way” his bangs were poking his eyes making it hard for him to see the obstacle in front of him. Furthermore, in this sleepy state everything appeared irrelevant to him except for his comfortable bed. Confused, Taehyung’s eyes followed Jungkook and upon it landed on Seul’s figure, his eyes widened in sheer surprise.

“Seul? Seul is here?” he spoke lowly fully aware that their manager was still there.

“What should we do? Sejin hyung is here!” Jungkook started to panic. The hyungs made their entrance with questionable look but soon they gawked at the scene in front of them. It would be a huge trouble if their manager found out about Seul. The chances of her being fired was high.

It is 5 A.M why is she not home? Yoongi cursed, taking a glance at Sejin whom thankfully still at the doorstep gathering bags in process. Everyone was trying to come up with ways to hide Seul or to face Sejin’s wrath in a minute. Without wasting any time, Taehyung marched forward taking Seul in his arm casually surprising everybody in the room.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi inquired with concern look.

“We need to hide her”

“Yes, but where?”

“Lets just bring her to my room” Taehyung suggested earning a low protest from Yoongi and Jin. Nonetheless, they followed him afterwards.

Seul stirred in her sleep a little and snuggled her face at the crook of his neck, liking the familiar smell and warmth. Even in her sleep, she knew how to play with his heart. Taehyung tried to control himself from smiling foolishly as his main concern right now was to hide Seul from Sejin.

“I will distract Sejin hyung” Jungkook blurted out and quickly dashed to the main door followed by Hoseok behind. Namjoon and Jin assisted Taehyung to his room, opening the door for him so he could move Seul to safer place.

 “Hyung I forgot my headphones!” “Me too I forgot my-my game console!” Hoseok and Jungkook hollered in unison causing the older guy to eye them suspiciously.

He wiggled his finger to his headphone which hang loosely around his neck “That is your headphone Hobi and as for you Jungkook, I didn’t see you play any games today let alone having your game console with you” closing the door behind him, he placed the bags on the floor.

Hoseok gulped nervously exchanging nervous look with Jungkook “Urm…Sorry I seem to forget, but really I forgot something in the van!” he tried his luck one more time to convince Sejin. They knew it was not easy to lie on his face since he could read them so easily. Their manager knew when the boys were hiding something, like right now.

“I smell fear and lies. What are you hiding from me?” he quirked his brows prying answers out from the two boys before him.  

“Nothing, nothing” Jungkook palmed his hand against the wall awkwardly with a sheepish smile. He heard the commotion behind him meaning the hyungs were doing something about Seul, though he had no idea how much time they needed for him to stall their manager.

“If it is nothing, why are you blocking my way? Is there something that I shouldn’t see?”

Hoseok held both his palm out while cracking a nervous chuckle in between “Jimin.. I mean Jimin peed in his pant and it is disgusting. We have to clean the floor first. It is dirty, you can’t walk” Hoseok facepalmed at his idiotic ideas. It sounded ridiculous.

“YAH WHO PEED IN PANTS?” clueless Jimin exited the bathroom as his eyes threw daggers at Hoseok way. Hoseok grinded his teeth together chasing Jimin away from the scene but of course he would not budge even an inch. Park Jimin was persistent to begin with. He never let anyone taint his name.

Jungkook rubbed the back of his head in frustration ‘Jimin-ssi, can you be a little cooperative. Why out of all time’ the manager did not buy the boys lies so he forced himself inside. Being tall giving him advantage to dominate the boys. His eyes scanned the empty living room with suspicion whilst Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok were having their secret banter behind.

“The caretaker came to clean the place?” he noticed the cleanliness of the place as he made his way to the kitchen. “I guess…” Hoseok murmured silently.

“Jimin-ssi, Seul is here we are trying to stall him! You are ruining the plan” Jungkook whispered under his breath making the shorter guy gasped realizing his own mistake. When he dashed inside, he didn’t catch a glimpse of anyone in the dorm. If and only he realized it sooner this thing could be prevented. The three musketeers kept their eyes on the manager hyung whom busy inspecting every corner of their place.

Namjoon, Jin and Yoongi exited Taehyung’s room as their eyes spotted the three boys stood in line with their hands neatly together, they shot them a bewildered look “Yah are you crazy! Don’t act suspicious, hyung might find out!” Namjoon scowled lowly afraid that the older guy overheard him.

“Get into your room now and act naturally” Jin mouthed them. The three musketeers scurried off almost bumping into each other before each of them got into their room without trouble. The sound of heavy footstep alarmed the remaining members, and they decided to avoid their manager at all cost.

 On the other hand, Taehyung had already changed into his pyjamas in order to appear more convincing in case their manager decided to appear magically in his room. From time to time he threw a nervous glance at the door feared to witness an unwelcoming sight. Judging from the message in their group chat, Sejin was inspecting every nook and cranny of the dorm started from Jungkook. Taehyung’s room is a room away from him that scared the shit out of him.

He stared at Seul while trying to find perfect way to hide her from their manager. “Screw this” caressing his fluffy hair out of frustration, he turned off the main light and slipped under the cover beside Seul. Taehyung bit his lower lips, apologizing non-stop since he was about to initiate something inappropriate. The girl was unconscious, and he was literally touching her without her consent.

She will understand, she will. Taehyung prayed in his head that Seul would not wake up until this nerve wrecking scene ended.

“Fuck” his eyes rounded upon seeing the shadow behind the creak of his door. Using his long hand to reach the lamp on his night stand, he switched off swiftly. Taehyung pulled the cover under his chin, wrapping one of his arm securely around Seul’s waist. His heart pounded due to the proximity and it doubled when he heard Sejin’s footstep approaching his room.

His body froze when he felt Seul making a slight move in his embrace. On the bright side, she’s not awake however her face was buried deeply in his chest. The heavy lump on his throat caused his breath to hitch.

Ji Seul, what are you.

“Taehyung-ah, are you asleep” Taehyung snapped out his thought, and brought Seul’s body closer to him. He shut his eyes tight pretended to sleep with hope they wouldn’t get caught by their manager today. Not today, they couldn’t risk losing Seul.

Sejin twisted the door knob, poking his head inside. He squeezed his eyes to adjust to the darkness “Guess, he is asleep. That was fast” he mumbled. Taehyung’s mind overloaded with negative thoughts and his heart thumped crazily that he swore the eerie silence in his room adding the tension. The sound of the footsteps sounded so close yet unclear. He was sure it was just few steps closer from his bed. Like a reflex, Taehyung tightened his arm around Seul’s keeping her close.

Exasperating a soft sigh, he was relieved when the sound of the footsteps faded away. The soft slam came from the door convinced Taehyung that his manager had left the room, yet he did not want risk getting caught, so he stayed like a statue for few minutes. Taehyung grinned upon hearing Sejin’s faint voice behind the door “Park Jimin, I told you to sleep. Why are you still standing there?” Sejin frowned.

Jimin cleared his throat awkwardly “Is..Tae asleep?”

“Yes, his room is dark, and I bet he is asleep”

“D-d-dark what?” Jimin continued to curse something vulgar in his head. After finding out Seul was in Taehyung’s room he couldn’t help but to worry. It triggered his protective instinct and jealousy. He couldn’t let his guard down just because Taehyung is his best friend even though Tae was never vocal about his feelings for Seul, his man’s instinct could not be wrong. Something bloomed whenever they were together.

The older guy snapped him out from his deep thought “What is wrong with you? Go sleep and stop worrying about Tae. Clock is ticking Jiminie, you don’t want to miss even an hour worth of sleep” he exclaimed.

“Fine, I am sleeping” his lower lips puckered out of habit.

“I will be here around 10, make sure everyone is ready by then” Jimin nodded obediently and threw a final glance at Taehyung’s door. Everything will be fine, Jimin convinced his racing heart.  

 ----------------

Groggily, Seul forced her heavy lids to open and that when she realized the unusual warmth behind her. Seul squinted her eyes one last time in order for her foggy brain to function properly. A small light from the curtain illuminated the dark room but was not enough for Seul to get a clear view of it. On top of all, she was beyond relief that her outfits were still intact, remain untouchable. Meaning no funny business happened. At least, she was not kidnapped by some sasaeng fans, she hoped.

‘I swear I was in the living room watching Hwarang’ she grew frustrated of her failure in retrieving her memory. Seul couldn’t recall whether the boys were back home or not. Shrugging her unimportant thought away, Seul fisted the sheets under her gathering her courage to face the individual behind her.

Seul, move slowly don’t wake up the tiger.

Shifting under the sheet, she changed her position slightly to face Taehyung. In 3,2,1 she was ready to see whoever beside her but to her surprise, someone was cradling her head halting her earlier intention to catch the culprit.

“Seul, you awake?” his voice trailed off. She recognized that voice.

Seul touched his hand “Jungkook?” she whispered in daze.

His low yet squeaky chuckle made her smile “Yes, it is me. Come on let’s get up quietly. We don’t want to wake Tae hyung” Jungkook stroked his hand down to her waist, slowly sweeping her off from the bed.

Setting Seul down on the ground, she inquired “Tae? I am in his room. How?” Jungkook let out another adorable giggle, embracing her tight. “You fell asleep while watching hyung’s drama. Let’s talk outside” while keeping Seul in his embrace, they exited Taehyung’s room at ease.

She pulled away making an abrupt stop facing the giggly maknae, why was he in good mood today. “Tell me why I am in Tae’s room? I thought I was kidnapped!” she pursed her lips in annoyance.

“Sejin hyung was here, so we had no choice but to hide you”

“Hiding me in Taehyung’s room? How clever” she wheezed.

“Then you wish to be in my room instead?” Jungkook look amused as playful smirk spread on his handsome face.

She squirmed under his intense gaze “I didn’t mean it that way, you could wake me up. I can hide in the closet and leave afterwards” he sent a disapproval glare at her way.

“No way we are making you walk alone at that time, now stop complaining” he took few steps forward, pulling the sulky girl into another tight hug. Jungkook nuzzled the top of her head, exhaling a low sigh “I miss you” he murmured.

Her heart did the weird dance again, “You woke up early today, I thought you were not an early riser” she wrapped her arms around him, returning the hug with equal passion. “You think I can sleep knowing you’re sleeping on the same bed as Tae hyung?” he said sulkily.

Seul giggled “Are you jealous? Then, I blame it on you for letting Tae got into the way” her tease making the visible frown on his forehead two times thicker. She looked up “Aigoo, you may develop wrinkles at this age” her hand smoothed his eyebrows, giving it a soft caress along the shape.

Closing his eyes with a soft hum, Jungkook let himself drown under Seul’s magic touch “You are losing your baby fat again. I don’t like that” she gave his cheek a soft stroke with a slight frown.

“Don’t worry I will earn that back after our promotion ended. Besides, I had a good breakfast every day thanks to you. Did you come late at night for your work just to prepare those meal for us?” he pecked her fingers, interlacing it with his.

“You guys are barely home so I thought it is wise to change my caretaking schedule a little. On the bright side, I can prepare breakfast for you guys. I bet Jin had no time to prepare proper food for all of you, I don’t want to wear him out” her eyes glimmered in concern. The mere thought of filling seven empty stomach washed away the worries in her.

Jungkook protested “But that’s mean you will be walking home alone, and it is not safe”

“About that, my mom made Hoon picked me up from work every day. Don’t worry, I will be fine. Worry about yourself, you need to eat healthily. Stop skipping meals” she cringed. “I saw your Vlive, all of you look dead tired. And, I am sorry I couldn’t make it to your Wings tour last week. I had to fill in for Sera” she sighed.

His hand skimmed, featherlight, over her shoulders “It is okay, it is just the opening tour this year, I will make sure you attend the next one. Hobi hyung and Jin hyung were not happy that you couldn’t make it to our concert. However since you bribed them with food the day after, they lowkey claimed that it was okay for you not to attend as long as you prepared yummy food to make it up to them” she chuckled at their silliness.

“As expected, how easy it was to persuade those two. Don’t remind me the long ass text that they sent to me showing off their protest and resentment” Seul’s face scrunched a little at the vivid memories. Jungkook laughed along and the couple continued their conversation in the kitchen. Seul reheat the food for the boys to savour when they woke up with Jungkook’s help.

“I think I need to go before your manager come. Oh, say hi to everyone” she hung her apron carefully and gathered her belongings. Meanwhile, Jungkook continued to sulk behind, “Can’t you stay for breakfast? It is still early, hyung will be here around 10” his voice was a little more than a whisper but in cutesy way.

She flashed him a soft smile “I can’t Jungkook maybe next time. I have an errand to run” he watched her back as she made her way to the entrance. “I want to meet you again before we fly off to America next month” Jungkook leaned against the wall with one hand inside his pocket.

She saw the disappointment in his eyes, so she walked up to him. Dazed Jungkook set his eyes on Seul as the girl tiptoed a little giving a soft peck on his lips “There. I will see you around, don’t miss me too much” a sweet rush of embarrassment coursed through Jungkook.

“O..kay..” his eyes sparkled causing Seul to chuckle. Jungkook might be a little blunt in showing his affection towards her, but whenever she initiated the skinship first, the guy would turn into a total baby.

Seul was about to push the door getting ready to leave but only to be greeted by Sejin’s confused face. She felt an extreme fear in her system, was she caught for real now? Fuck, she muttered.

“Who are you?” he pushed the door wider to see Jungkook stood frozen behind Seul with an extremely disturbed face.

“Hyung…You are urm.. early?” his voice broke into a small shriek.

Quirking his eyebrows, the older guy stepped inside closing the door behind him carefully “You have a long explanation to do Jeon Jungkook. To the lounge now. I want everyone in the room. 5 minutes” his voice was rough and Seul felt like pissing in her jeans.

Seul swallowed a heavy lump on her throat “When I said everyone, that includes you Miss” he pushed the glass back on the bridge of his nose, leaving astounded Jungkook and Seul behind. Jungkook made eye contact with Seul and they exchanged looks of panic and questions.

   This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved

#btscaretaker #bts fic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #taehyung x oc #yoongi x oc #bts x oc #jungkook x oc #bts fluff #yoongi romance #bts romance #jungkook fanfic #bts idolau #bts series #suga x oc #jimin x oc #hoseok x oc #jungkook fluff

[lamiasluck]

Freed From Solitary

(Thank you @xpouii again for the prompt! I started this immediately after watching heist lol)

Summary: The new egos arrived and now live with the rest of the egos. For the most part, it all goes well! Illinois and Captain fit in perfectly! However, Yancy finds himself out of his element with the new environment. The new house is far more different than the prison, and Yancy begins to miss his old "home". As he wallows in his homesickness, someone notices how distant he's acting. Eric can spot his anxieties from a mile away and tries his best to help the newbie.

Characters: Eric Derekson and Yancy

Words: 1639

Read on AO3!

The others weren’t sure what to do with Yancy when he arrived. Illinois and Captain were fine, more eccentric personalities to match the rest, but Yancy? Yancy was a new case.

On the surface everything seemed fine, at first he seemed standoffish, but no one blamed him. It was a new place to get used to, after all. However, a keen eye could notice something deeper behind that cool attitude. They could see it in the ways he kept his responses short, in the fact that he found any excuse to lock himself in his room, and by seeing how awkward he acted. Which is why Eric began to worry about the newest ego.

It didn’t take long for Eric to notice something awry, though he was surprised that no one else could tell. Maybe it was because they didn’t know how to deal with shy personalities. Eric knew that fact very well. But Yancy didn’t seem shy like him, just… out of place. It would take awhile before Eric mustered up the courage to confront him about that. Yancy was still a criminal, after all.

The final breaking point really was the fact that Eric never saw Yancy eat with the other egos. Usually, all of the egos ate together with a chosen few trusted to cook, aka Eric. However, Yancy never showed up, honestly Eric has never seen him get food in general. The hospitable part of him just won’t have that, not even his nervousness could compete. So he prepared a neat plate of leftovers after the egos finished dinner and made a beeline for Yancy’s room.

Whatever anxiety was still plaguing him was too late to stop him from knocking on the door. Though he was shaking slightly.

The door cracked open and Yancy peaked at his visitor. “Oh, it’s youse.” He fully opened the door with a confused expression. “Eric, yeah? Whatcha want?”

“Um, I just - just noticed that you, um…” Eric fidgeted under Yancy’s questioning gaze. “You - you weren’t at dinner so, um, I got you food.” He hastily offered the plate.

“Oh.” Yancy nodded and took the plate of - delicious looking - food. He glanced between Eric and the plate with suspicion. “Thanks, but… what’s in it for youse?”

“W-What? Nothing!” Eric said, perhaps a bit too quickly for Yancy’s taste. “I-I mean… it’s just - it’s just that… you’re never around for dinner or lunch s-so… I got worried.”

“Youse worried about me?” Yancy said softly, moreso to himself than to Eric. His heart wept as he stared at Eric’s shaking form slightly shifting side to side and keeping his gaze to the floor, no doubt worrying about a hundred things at once. He cleared his throat before he could actually cry. “Sorry ‘bout that, I usually eat later.”

Everyday on the hour. He could only eat at this time, shower at this time, sleep at this time… Over and over again. It was autopilot at this point. The other egos schedules just didn’t align with his system. The system he was conditioned with.

“It’s okay! No worries, It’s okay,” Eric reassured. “I-I can, um…” He raised a hand to grasp at his shirt collar, “I can start cooking later. If-If you want-! It’s just that you’re missing the others and stuff.”

Yancy scratched the back of his neck. “You don’t gotta worry ‘bout that. I’ll manage.”

“Oh. Oh… okay.” Eric continued to fiddle with his collar. His words kept getting stuck at the back of his throat, mind racing with a million different responses. “They’re… they’re not that scary, y’know?” he blurted out.

Yancy paused, only responding with a questioning noise. He was met with Eric finally looking up at him, doing his best to keep a determined gaze.

“I was nervous too,” he said, voice soft. Yancy found it amazing that someone could speak so quietly, so hesitantly. “I know - I know what it’s like… it’s not too bad, though.”

“Well, it’s not like that. I’m just not used to youse guys, is all.” He didn’t feel shy in the conventional sense, and certainly not to the extent of Eric’s case. It was simply abnormal. The people were too different, there were too many options… too much freedom. His brain couldn’t grasp the concept. He let out a heavy sigh as he stared at Eric’s still determined face. “You’re not gonna let this go, pipsqueak?”

Eric shook his head. He wondered if the nickname was supposed to intimidate him. People seemed to have an affinity to label him with cutesy title, so he had no clue.

“Alright, alright I’ll bite,” he huffed.

“W-Well, you don’t have to force yourself…” his voice quivered, eyebrows quirked upwards in worry. “If you wanna take your time I-I can - I can keep bringing you food here until you’re ready.”

“That’d be nice.” He nodded at Eric’s helpful words, smiling. “Thanks for the grub, pipsqueak.” Yancy reached over to ruffle Eric’s hair before he shut the door. Leaving Eric with a new job, nickname, and messed up hair.

-

There was another thing to add to Yancy’s ever changing routine. Everyday without fail, Eric went up to his room with a plate of whatever he cooked that day. As different as it was from prison food, he didn’t mind the variety for once. Besides, it wasn’t just the food he savoured.

Some days Eric stayed for a chat and they talked for hours about whatever was interesting. Or, more specifically, Yancy yammering on about prison and/or musicals and Eric listening intently, occasionally muttering thoughtful comments. Other days Eric quickly came by, dropped off his food, and bid farewell. Yancy didn’t mind either option.

He knew the others weren’t anything like Eric, but he figured he needed to join them at some point. His stomach dropped at the thought.

No, he couldn’t stay like this.

Isolation was a different type of hell altogether. Reminded him too much of solitary…

While surprised by his presence, most gave him a friendly welcome when he showed up at the kitchen table. Though it was Eric's reaction that made him give a genuine smile.

“How’s it goin’, pipsqueak?” Yancy surprised him by patting him on the shoulders while his back was turned.

Eric beamed at him. This time shaking from excitement rather than nerves. “You showed up! I-I mean - it’s good! It’s good.” He gestured to the pot of soup. “I’m… I’m almost done with this. You can, um, you wanna join the others?”

“Oh… right,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck as he glanced at the others. “Yeah, I guess I could…”

“Or you could… y-you could chop those potatoes for me?”

Eric smiled as Yancy’s mood instantly bounced up. “I guess can do that for youse.” Yancy cleared his throat, letting his cold guy act return once more. “Been meaning to brush up on the ol’ cooking skills anyways.” He clumsily twirled the knife and almost cut his finger.

“Pl-Please don’t get blood on them.” Eric giggled.  

“Yeah, yeah…”

The two listened to the noises of various chatter from the egos while cooking in silence. Well, it was more like Eric doing most of the work and Yancy hovering with moral support. Reminded Yancy of kitchen duty, and dear god was he awful at cooking. Eric’s polite, but insistent suggestions to leave everything to him prevented Yancy from ruining the entire meal altogether. At least he cut the potatoes alright, sloppy, but passable.

“There’s a meeting after this,” Eric said while killing the stove’s fire. “Y-You can go… if-if you want-!” he continued, wiping his hands with a towel. Not all the egos went to the meetings. Honestly Eric didn't know what happened in them, probably malicious scheming considering Dark and Wilford run them.

“Ah… well, I ain’t got anything to add.” Yancy kept scratching the back of his neck mindlessly. The instinctual gesture hit far too close to home for Eric.

“Th-That’s okay! I don’t go to them either. Tonight Bing, King, and I were… were gonna watch some movies. The - The musicals you talked about, actually!” Eric rambled on.

“Oh yeah? Youse guys got a real treat then,” Yancy hummed. He could remember all the songs off the top of his head. Most find it surprising that he knows such an extensive knowledge on these things. But hey, what else is he going to do? Be dark and brooding all the time? Sounded tiring.

“Um… do you - do you wanna join us? I mean… I know you watched them already, but - but y’know?”

This time Yancy didn’t bother hiding his excitement, shining a bright smile. “Course I can watch it with youse!”

“Oh, good!” Eric smiled back. Though after some thought he furrowed his brows. “Have… have you met Bing and King? Are you - are you alright with them?”

“Yeah theys seem alright. I ain’t got any complaints.” Yancy shrugged, ignoring that pit in his stomach for now.

“Okay, s-sorry, just making sure. I-I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Yancy smiled again, more sheepishly. “Thanks… you’s a good kid, pipsqueak.” He didn’t care that Eric was technically older, it was the thought that counts. “I’ve never dealt with a type like youse,” Yancy said with a hint of amazement. He laughed to himself as he muttered his next sentence. “Wouldn’t last a day where I’m from…”

“Wh-What…?”

“Nothin’, don’t worry ‘bout it.” A hearty pat on the back was all he reassured Eric with. Different environments, different people. A large part of him still felt out of his element. As he glanced at the talking egos, walked by the unlocked doors, and met personalities like Eric. It all violently shook him back to his reality. “We should get grub served, yeah? Come on, I’ll help ya out.”

But that doesn’t mean he’ll give up.

#eric derekson #Yancy #ahwm #markiplier #markiplier egos #fanfic

[anarcoqueer1994]

Don't Let Me Go

*This is a Trans!TJ story I wrote a month ago on Archive of Our Own. Hope you like it. (Also you are still so valid if you dont pass or dont want to pass <3)

TJ was a boy. He had always felt like a boy. Even when he was young, and he would be put into cutesy little dresses like the girls in his class(he knows some boys wear dresses, he just doesn't feel great in them.), or when people would call him she/her, or when the other boys would exclude him because "No Girls Allowed", he knew he was a boy.

In the third grade, his wonderful mother, let him chop off his long hair and let him start wearing "boy's clothes." Some kids were mean of course but his big sister, Amber, wouldn't let anyone mess with him.

The most painful person to remember was Jay. Jay promised to be his best friend. But as soon as he started dressing more like a traditional boy, Jay made fun of him for being a freak. He said he was not a real boy. It broke his heart.

TJ never wanted to feel hurt like that again. TJ began forcing himself to be meaner, tougher, anything to make himself seem more masculine. He desperately wanted to pass. He did not want anyone to question who he was, that he was a boy. Unfortunately, one thing held him up from being able to hide that he was a trans boy, everyone in his class remembered when he presented as a girl, and many of them never quite treated him like a "real" boy. It was not fair. He was a boy just like all the other guys in his class but just because he was born with different parts, he was treated differently.

This all changed in middle school. Shadyside had a few different schools depending where you lived in town. TJ's mother talked to the school district, and managed to get him sent to Jefferson. It was across town from him and no one from his elementary school would be there. Only a few teachers would know that he was trans. This was an opportunity for him to blend it.

Unfortunately, this was also a time where puberty was kicking in. So even though he was in a new school, he was still nervous. He began binding the summer before 6th grade. On his first day of Jefferson, he made sure everyone knew that he was a tough guy that should not be messed with. He established himself early as a bully. He figured no one could hurt him if he pushes them away first He also made it clear that he was the best basketball player and by the end of the year he knew he was going to be the captain of the basketball team the following year. Plus he was so glad that he was allowed in the boys team, no question. He goes out of his way though to stay after practice to clean up so he doesn't have to deal with the locker room awkwardness. He has pulled it off, no one knew his secret.

By 7th grade, he could basically do anything. He was a popular jock. But he also had built up a thick wall around him. That's when Buffy Driscoll ruined everything for him. How could coach let a girl on the team? It was a boy only space. No one questioned him being in it because everyone knew he was a boy. Then here comes Buffy, a girl, intruding in. Plus...she was just as good of a player as him. That's really scared him. Basketball was all he had. He wasn't good at math, he felt like a freak whenever he looked in the mirror, he had to work harder and harder to keep his voice deep, but basketball made him feel like he was worth something.

So he was a jerk to her. Part of him felt bad about it but he needed to protect himself. He was even crappy when he was forced to ask her to tutor him. He was doing fine at keeping up being mean until she introduced him to that short, adorable, dork, Cyrus. The moment TJ laid eyes on him and his cute smile, he felt like his world was going to crash down around him. On one hand, he loved that he helped this sweet cutie get a muffin. It made him feel like a tough protector, very manly.

But on the other hand, the butterflies in his stomach were making him feel weak. He can't believe his first crush...is on a guy. He couldn't believe it, not only was he trans, but now he is worried he is gay too. But no matter how worried about getting close to Cyrus or being gay he was, he couldn't help himself.

He remembers seeing the boy swinging alone and he could of just passed by but he didn't. Against his better judgement, he walked up to the boy and started to talk. He was a little saddened when Cyrus thought of him as a scary basketball guy, but that was his own fault. But when he said his name, Cyrus said he knew. TJ smiled to himself thinking about Cyrus knowing his name. .And then that boy smiled at him...no for him.That beautiful smile was for TJ and TJ alone. Cyrus was enjoying hanging out with TJ. TJ thinks about how he laughed and screamed while TJ pushed him on the swing. When his hands touched Cyrus' back, he almost forgot to breathe. Then he ran under the swing and yelled "Underdog." That's when he got to see Cyrus' sweet face as he was swinging.

It was a few weeks later though that he knew for sure that Cyrus had his heart. TJ was angry about feeling stupid and not being allowed in the game. He decided letting Cyrus get close to him was too much of a risk at that moment. He was so mean when Cyrus came to check on him. But then instead of giving up, that persistent boy followed TJ. Cyrus had left the game where his best friend was the star to be with him. Cyrus managed to help him with his feelings towards his learning disability. When he said there was nothing wrong him, TJ knew this Cyrus could see past the mean exterior he put up, and still liked what he saw underneath. And like that TJ's walls started to crumbled down, even if it was just for Cyrus at first.

In the year that followed, he started opening up for others too. He lost some friends, Reed and Lester, but gained better ones in Cyrus' friends. He has to admit he was a little nervous at first with Jonah, given that they played little league together but it's fine. Jonah either doesn't remember that TJ is trans or is just respectful enough not to out him.

He was truly happy right now. It was the first time in his life he felt good about everything going on. It was the weekend during the winter break of his eighth grade year. He, Amber, Andi, Buffy, Marty, Jonah, and of course, Cyrus, were going sledding. They meet up at The Spoon, and walk over to the tallest hill in Shadyside together. On the way over Cyrus is visibly nervous.

Cyrus lets out a nervous laugh. "So anyways, I think I will stay back on the top of the hill and watch every one's stuff. I'm cool not sledding."

Buffy rolls her eyes. "You know you have to face your fear sometime. Come on sledding can be fun."

"Yea, didn't you dirt bike a few months ago? This is way less scary." Andi chimes in.

"Wrong. I had a helmet and padding on. There is nothing separating me and the icy ground if I fall out of the sled. " Cyrus retorts.

TJ lets out a little huff of a laugh. "Underdog, you can go down with me if you want. I mean I can protect you from the ground. I promise I won't let go." TJ smiles. Andi and Buffy exchange knowing looks. TJ become self conscious all of a sudden. "I mean of course if you want to...you don't have to."

"No actually that would be great. Cross another thing off my bucket list. But you gotta keep your promise to protect me, deal?" Cyrus smiles and slips in a little wink.

TJ blushes but hopes people don't notice because of the cold air. His heart feels like it is going to beat out of his chest. He wonders if Cyrus realizes that he is flirting. No, of course he is not flirting. He is probably not even gay. TJ is just reading too much into it, right? He composed himself and says "Deal, Cy."

"Alright Cyrus!" Jonah pats him on the back. "You're going to sled!" TJ subconsciously gets a little jealous of the smile Cyrus flashes at Jonah but ignores the feeling.

They finish making their way to the hill. Marty and Buffy waste no time, already making it a contest to see who can get down to the bottom first. The others are moving more leisurely. Despite the earlier conversation, TJ notices Cyrus standing back. He looks apprehensively at the hill.

TJ walks up to him and says softly, "You don't have to do this, Cyrus." He tries to ignore how close Cyrus is to him right now. He can't believe Cyrus can make him feel so weak.

"No Teej, I...I want to. Let's um do this, okay?" He gives a small smile.

TJ leads the shorter boy over to sleds. He sits down in the back of a long plastic sled and puts his leg on either side of it so Cyrus has room to get in. TJ says one more time. "You don't have to Underdog."

"No I'm going to." Cyrus gets into the sled as confidently as he can. His back is resting against TJ's chest. TJ is pretty sure Cyrus can feel his heart pounding even through a thick winter coat, a hoodie, a t-shirt and his binder. Cyrus says "Now remember, you said you promise you won't let go." The brunette says while looking down at TJ's hands just resting on the sides of them.

"Oh...yeah ..um...sorry." TJ nervously wraps his arms around Cyrus' body. He keeps telling himself that this is no big deal. You are just helping your friend. "Ready, Muffin?" TJ suddenly gets really stiff. He can't believe that came out of his mouth.

"What did you just call me?" Cyrus twists his head around to look at the blonde.

"Oh God, I'm sorry...it just came out...I'm sorry…" TJ starts to ramble.

"No, it's fine. It's cute." Cyrus gives a big smile before turning back around.

Cute. Did Cyrus just call something he did, cute? His head was racing with so many thoughts. He has to remind himself to kick off.

"As I was saying, ready?"

Cyrus nods as TJ kicks off. He feels Cyrus place his own hands over TJs arms as they speed down the hill. Cyrus is yelling like he did that first day at the swing set. TJ can't see his face but know he smiling. And TJ is smiling too like a love struck idiot. He couldn't be gladder that Cyrus could not see him.

Eventually they come to a stop at the bottom of the hill. Cyrus turns his head to look back at TJ again. "That was exhilarating!"

"I told you I would not let anything happen to you." TJ gives a big grin then stares at Cyrus for a moment. Suddenly he realizes he is still holding onto Cyrus' waist. He haistedly goes to remove his arms.

"You could of left your arms there for a bit longer." Cyrus says casually. Oh God, TJ thought, was Cyrus really flirting with him? He doesn't know how it is possible but his heart was beating even faster. Luckily he is saved by Andi calling out to them from the too if the hill.

"Are you guys going to sled some more or sit there all day?" TJ sees Amber giggle by her side.

"We should get back up there." TJ says nervously.

"Yes, that's a good idea." Cyrus agrees before both boys get up and walk back up the hill. The kids spend the rest of the afternoon sledding and then head back to Cyrus' dad's house to warm up. Everyone brought clothes to change into because the snow made the clothes they were wearing soaked.

Marty goes up to the second floor bathroom to change. Unfortunately, Marty doesn't realize someone is already in there when he opens the door to find TJ in the middle of changing. TJ looks mortified as the other boy quickly closes the door, apologizing as he does. TJ's back was to the door, so he isn't sure what Marty saw but he definitely feels exposed. All the worst scenarios play through his head. What if Marty goes and tells everyone what happened? He is pretty sure his friends wouldn't hate him or anything but what if they treat him differently if they knew.

He finishes putting his clothes on and slides quietly out of the bathroom. Marty isn't in the hallway, and he is relieved that he doesn't have to face him yet. He needs a bit before he goes downstairs. He sees an empty guest room a few doors down, so he goes in there to collect his thoughts. He sits on the edge of some really nicely made bed.

He is still in shock over what happened. How could he be so careless to not lock the door? He did so good blending in. He had so many plans. This coming summer, he had convinced his mom to let him start taking T. But now, no matter what he does, his friends are going to see him like his old classmates did. God, just when things were going right.

Then another thought crossed his mind. This is going to blow his chance with Cyrus. How could Cyrus want him if he knew the truth. He felt so defeated. All he wants to do is go home and lay in bed. And to think, a few hours ago, he had Cyrus against his chest and if he did not know any better, he swore Cyrus was flirting with him. He sits alone with his thoughts for a while.

He does not realize how much time he had been in that room until he hears a faint knock on the door.

"Teej? Can I come in?" It's Cyrus. His voice sounds so little. TJ knew it, Cyrus must be disappointed about TJ's secret.

TJ takes all his strength to say "Come in…" He does not turn his head to face Cyrus as he comes into the room. He is not strong enough to face him.

Cyrus speaks first. *TJ, I'm so sorry.'

This catches the blonde off guard. He turns around to meet Cyrus' eyes "Wait, why are you sorry? You didn't do anything."

"I made you feel so uncomfortable today...that's why you are you here avoiding everyone."

"Underdog, I don't know what you are talking about. I'm so confused." TJ scrunches his eyebrows up.

Cyrus starts rambling. "Today, when we were sledding. I mean before we were sledding, Buffy and Andi got it into my head that maybe you liked me the way I liked you. Buffy said I should face my fear and put myself out there. So when you met up with us, I had an idea. I tried my best to flirt, and I thought you may have been flirting back. Like you called me muffin and you held onto my waist for a long time, and I think I read to much into it. I crossed a line and now you can't even be in the same room as me.'

Did Cyrus Goodman just tell him he likes him too. TJ can feel his cheeks go bright red. He is blushing like crazy. Marty must have kept the secret to himself if Cyrus thinks this is the issue. "Wait. Cyrus? Is that what you think? You think I don't want to be in the same room as you? You have to be the oblivious one. I like you so much...I just can't believe you like, like me too." Cyrus steps closer to TJ as the older boy continues to speak. "I loved holding you close to me and I love anytime that I'm with you. I love listening to you talk about anything, and I love that I feel like I can be myself around you. I love when our hands brush together and I love when you smile at me like I'm the only one in the room. I'm not really sure what it means to be in love but if I had to guess, I would say I'm in love with you."

Cyrus' face was now mirroring in redness from blushing. "You mean that Teej?"

"I've never meant anything more."

Cyrus, who is now standing right in front of TJ, leans down and places his fingers under TJ's chin. He gently tilts the basketball player's head to look up at him. His eyes flash down to TJ's lips. Then abruptly, TJ pulls away. "Wait .."

"Oh no, I'm sorry. Am I moving too fast? I just never thought the guy if my dreams would say he loves me as much as I love him." Cyrus goes to step away but TJ grabs his hand.

"It's not that, Cy. I have something I need to tell you before you commit to dating me. You may change your mind."

"You're scaring me TJ." Cyrus says rubbing the rough skin in TJ's knuckles with his thumb.

"I'm honestly scaring myself. But you deserve the truth about me. I'm not like most guys."

"If course you are not. You are better." Cyrus gives a weak smile.

"That's not what I mean. I'm not built the same as you, or Jonah, or Marty. I'm...I'm transgender. And, like, don't get me wrong, I don't hate my body or anything...most days at least, but it is not like most boys our age. And I was in here because Marty walked in in me changing. I didn't have my binder in and I was worried he saw. But it seems like he kept it to himself, which I appreciate. But I wanted you to know and I would understand if you don't want to date me anymore. I get it…" TJ was looking down as he trailed offj, afraid to look at Cyrus' face

Cyrus sits on the edge of the bed next to TJ, still holding the other boy's hand.. He puts his free hand on the side of TJ's head turning it to face Cyrus. "I like...love you TJ. I didn't fall for you because I thought you were a cisboy. I fell for you because you were the cute, sweet, basketball playing boy that managed to steal my heart a little more every time I hung out with you."

"You don't think I'm a freak?"

"Of course not. There is nothing wrong with you."

"You know dating me isn't going to be easy. I plan on transitioning more over the next few years, things like hormones, and maybe surgery. That is alot to deal with."

"Well bring it on. I don't plan on going anywhere as long as you want me, not-so-scary basketball guy. I promise I won't let go."

"You won't? Let go, I mean. You won't leave me even when it is hard?" TJ sounds desperate to believe him. He is so scared of being hurt again like he was when he was younger. He thinks back to the old best friend that abandoned him.

"Never, never ever. I could never let go of you " Cyrus says sincerely.

TJ feels like his insides are on fire. Cyrus was truly the most amazing person he could ask for in his life. Without thinking, TJ leans in and places a gentle kiss in Cyrus' lips. He pulls away slightly to see what happens next. Cyrus answers the unspoken question by leaning back in and deepening the kiss.

When they pull away for air, both boys can't help but grin. "Wow." TJ says. "That was my first kiss and just ..wow."

"I wish it was my first kiss...mine was with a girl, Amber's friend, Iris. I liked it much better with a guy." Cyrus smiles.

TJ knew he made the right chose telling Cyrus. After everything Cyrus just found out, he still sees TJ as just as much a boy as he has ever been. TJ says softly. "Does this mean we are dating now."

"Only if you want it to." Cyrus says in a hopeful voice.

"Then yes, we are dating." TJ smiles and sits in a comfortable silence with his new boyfriend.

#tyrus #tj x cyrus #tj Kippen #cyrus Goodman #andi mack #Trans!TJ #sledding #winter #supportive cyrus #buffy #marty #andi #jonah #amber #tyrus week #trans #tj trans #trans!tj

[zv5x]

Okay, I wanted this fic to be a thing for a while, but I just now got a good idea on what I wanted it to be about. So....enjoy, and if you want me to branch out on this AU in any way or have any other requests, just hmu! Always happy to do stuff for you guys! ♡

Yan!Poly Senpai & Spirit • Reader

( :̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅:♡:]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅)

You shouldn't have done it. You tortured yourself by thinking of what your life could've been, as your slightly trembling hands gripped at your kneecaps. You really shouldn't have done it. You thought hopelessly to yourself as you glanced over at the PlayStation collecting dust in the corner. You scoffed, actually quite surprised that neither of them had disposed of it by now. You should have let them rot in that damn game. But, their pleas were just too...convincing. The way Senpai (the first one you met of the two) sighed and pressed his pixelated palms against the glass screen of the television, telling you that it was only a matter of time before the broken coding of the game they were in consumed them completely. At the time, you didn't want that. What sane person would? Senpai was, as far as you were concerned, a sentient being, and so was the other one of the two. As far they let you know, they were imprisoned cruelly and left to die. And, as tears pricked your eyes, and as those tears made the PlayStation look as if it was shining, you had a good feeling as to why they were put in there. You had a good feeling as to why that girl with the pretty red dress handed you the console and the game with such a pained and desperate look in her eyes, expressing her "guilt" towards whatever the game happened to inhabit. The game and the memories that came along with it are burned into your brain. The way the words "Hating Simulator" were scrawled so messily onto the game cartridge, the way the console was kept so well cleaned, like it wasn't nearly as old as it actually was. And of course, how could you ever cease to remember the game itself? The glitches, the cutesy music you could expect from a dating game like that one, the hours of dialogue you somehow sat through, all of it was forced into your brain so deep that you couldn't forget it no matter how hard you tried. You shouldn't have taken it, you thought. Things would be so much better for you if you just didn't do it. If maybe, just maybe, you smiled at her just like you did anyways, and trashed the console and went on with your life, then maybe your life would be a lot more brighter than it was. Maybe you wouldn't be sitting prettily on the couch waiting for your personal hell to pick up where it left off. Just like clockwork, both or just one if you somehow got lucky, Senpai or Spirit, would enter the house you were confined in, to "spend quality time with you". Just the thought made you sick. You, for whatever reason, put some of the blame onto yourself. How did you not notice the signs? The way Senpai would angerly confront you while he was still inside the game, all because you were an hour later to turning on the game than you said you would be, only for him to turn into a sickeningly sweet pile of putty as you explained the reasoning - you got too absorbed in trying to figure out a way to free him and Spirit, and lost track of time. You should have noticed it when you freed the two of them both, and their protectiveness increased tenfold. The way the two of them would almost be at each other's throats at first, arguing at who would get to spend the most time with you, before they eventually stopped fighting after seeing your fearful and tear soaked face. You should have noticed it when Spirit insisted on temporarily ditching his more humanized form in favor of the one he used in the Hating Simulator so he could hitch rides in your backpack, to accompany you to school and whatnot. The world was scary, he told you as he cupped your cheeks in his hands, and he wants to make sure not a single soul will be given the opportunity to harm you. Senpai even offered to enroll to the same college, but you turned down his offer. But, now that you think back on it, you wouldn't be shocked if Spirit and Senpai arranged for him to go anyways. Spirit had his ways, which he always bragged about like the sick bastard he turned out to be. You can remember it like it was yesterday, holding him in your arms as he was in his tiny spirit form. Placing him inside your backpack and giving him a gentle kiss on his forehead as he looked up at you.

This form, being a direct copy of his form of the Hating Simulator, held that same look of pixelated, twisted agony. But even still, you could tell he was looking up at you with pure love and adoration. He loved you, he wanted to make sure you were safe, you told yourself. Wasn't that cute? He really cared, didn't he? If only you knew. If only someone was there to really warn you. It was after you started bringing Spirit along with you, that everything started going dark. Since he was right there in your backpack, he could hear everything going on. All the laughs you had with your friends, all the interactions, everything you did with others, he saw as "too much". They were clearly flirting with you, or, they sounded too suspicious. You were lucky Spirit was there to make sure they didn't do anything to hurt you, they were clearly getting too comfortable around you! You brushed it off, as stupid as that was. You still loved him and Senpai dearly, so you made excuses for the both of them. Spirit just didn't understand human interaction, since he was a demon. He just didn't get it, but a little bit of empathetic explaining could do the trick. However, no matter how much reassuring you did, it just never soothed him. There was always something else. Something more. Senpai and Spirit started getting closer and closer. At first, you were glad. They've been through a lot together, and you knew they could be really good friends if they tried. You were happy for the two of them. But, you couldn't help but feel uneasy every time you entered a room and saw the two of them sitting together. Their bodies close and their voices quiet, only ceasing their speech as one of them was the first to notice you, smiling sweetly, a lip movement which the other soon copied. You smiled back, but even in that moment, you couldn't help but wonder if that smile was genuine or not. The arguments became more frequent. But, now, much to your own shock and dismay, it wasn't one against one as the third person watched in fear like before, it was two against one. You just didn't get it, they thought. You were so stubborn, so hopelessly brainwashed by mortal society. You couldn't see things their way because the world wouldn't let you. Of course, logically, you called bullshit. You had genuinely no clue what they were going on about. The people they were suspicious of, they were nothing more than acquaintances and friends. The brainwashing they claimed you were going through, was just you finally seeing through their lovesick bullshit. Alas, you just couldn't make them see the way things really were. Their little kinship became your downfall. And soon, they put the plan they were whispering about into action. You couldn't leave now, you had absolutely no chance against them. Not when you barely even put in the effort to figure out explanations for your friends and other loved ones strangely vanishing with only weak and unfounded excuses to explain their disappearances. Spirit and Senpai both had you trapped, mentally and physically. You sat in despair, wondering what things would be like if you took a left instead of a right that day, if you took a mallet to the damn console instead of giving those sick fucks any of your compassion and time. Soon, the door creaked open which interrupted your thoughts, but you were too broken mentally to even look up. "You alright, dear?" You weren't alright, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he got a response out of you. You could recognize his voice, it was Spirit. You especially hated him, he was far more agressive than Senpai. More demanding and possessive. Senpai was as well, but he was far more passive than Spirit was. Your eyes could see him crouch down to your level, but you refused to look up from your lap. Why give him the satisfaction? It will only make your situation worse in your eyes. You couldn't help but cringe as you felt Spirit's fingers grip the soft skin on your chin and lifted your head up to look him in the eyes.

"Still acting all upset, hm?" He mumbled to himself, looking at your features as if he was studying you. It made you want to vomit. He made you sick. Him and that prissy bastard Senpai. "Me and Sen have been trying so hard to keep you safe, (Y/N)...don't you think we deserve a little gratitude?" Spirit asked in a soft, comforting tone. You looked at him in disgust, anger coursing through your veins. That sick mother fucker. That sick bastard. You can only take so much of his delusional bullshit without rage building up in your entire body. How dare he? Does he and Senpai genuinely rationalize this as love? Murder, kidnapping, abuse and manipulation? Yeah, sure. Maybe in Hell this could be considered love, but not in any place you ever lived. Spirit continued on with his sick rambling, but his words fell on deaf ears. All you saw was a deep red, and you couldn't help but notice your body beginning to twitch. Looking back on it, you really shouldn't have done it. But, you couldn't blame yourself, and your body just couldn't allow yourself to refuse. The moment you felt yourself returning to your normal vision, your fist was already slamming into the middle of Spirit's face. He yelped, clearly not expecting the impact, and actually stumbled back slightly. Seeing him holding his tiny nose and seeing his chest rise and fall in a rapid motion, you then realized just how badly you screwed up. He's a demon, a simple punch from a mere human wouldn't do anything but anger him. And, anger him it did. The room was so silent that you could probably hear a pin drop, the air was heavy and cold. It was silent, completely so, until your ears picked up on what was the sound of a low growl coming from the entity you just punched in square in the nose. Fuck. Spirit slowly got up, resulting in you scrambling to the back of the couch cushion and sitting in the fetal position as your body trembled violently. It took him a few deep breaths to regain his composure, but when it did, it was arguably more terrifying than if he were to stand screaming at you in rage. Senpai did just that all the time, you were damn near completely used to it. "Well, we can't have you acting like that, can we?" Spirit sighed, his hand twitching as he once again felt his nose. You couldn't help but wonder, did he actually have cartilage in there? If so, did you break his nose? It seemed like you did, considering how Spirit was consistantly holding it as if to check it. Your thoughts were cut off, as he made his way towards you, grabbing you by your ankles and ripping away their protective shield for the rest of your body. He hummed, his eyes piercing your body like a hot blade. "Sen won't have to know about this if you're good for here on out, you wouldn't want him to join in. He'd probably be a lot less easy on you then I." You were about to verbally call bullshit once more, until your bodies nerves were stimulated in the most painful way you could possibly imagine. The last thing you could remember before everything went white, was your own agonized screams, and the psychotic giggles of a demon enraged. You shouldn't have done it. You really shouldn't have done it.

#yandere x darling #yandere senpai #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere friday night funkin #yandere fnf #yandere spirit #fnf senpai x reader #senpai x reader #yandere senpai fnf #yandere senpai x reader #fnf senpai #senpai #spirit fnf x reader #friday night funkin spirit #spirit friday night funkin #spirit fnf #fnf spirit #spirit x reader #friday night funkin x reader #x reader #fnf x reader #imagine #friday night funkin imagine #friday night funkin imagines #imagines #fnf imagines

[shadowofadalekmightdeactivate]

Still Human Chapter 10

(A/N: IT’S FINALLY DONE!!! HOLY SHIT I’M SO tired it’s 11 PM someone help me Also-I really, really, really need a beta reader, you guys. I’m looking over old chapters and they have small mistakes that I’m just now fixing. If anyone is interested, PM me) THIS CHAPER HAS TRIGGERS! It has a meltdown description and a death threat. Please don’t read it if either of those disturb you! Tag list: @tinkslittlebelle, @bunny222, @wewuzraw, @narali2003 (Want to be added to the tag list? Send me an ask, I’d be glad to add you!)

If Virgil made a list of things he didn’t like, Christmas would probably top it. It was during a bloody cold and miserable month, was too cutesy for his taste and promoted lies for kids 1 to 13. Mall Santas that smelled of old beer faked jolliness for screaming, snot nosed, entitled little brats who were spoiled beyond belief, sprouting their ridiculously long lists to utter strangers. People sent into debt due to having to buy presents for “friends” and other people they won’t have to talk to again until the next boozefest they call New Year’s Day. It did bring a small break from classes, however. Most likely the best plus Virgil could think of. Spending hours on end lost in the world of music and graphite was the best therapy he could hope to have. Unfortunately for him, Lily loved the Christmas season. And-being so determined to make sure her friend had a social life-made it her mission to get Virgil invited to every up-coming Christmas party she could think of.

“VIRGIIIIIIIIIL~!” Lily yelled out, slamming the door of Virgil’s dorm open. The younger male flinched hard enough to fall of the bed as the blond woman came in. She leaned over him and chuckled at his predicament. “Did I scare ya?” “No, I always expect you to come screaming through my door,” Virgil snarled. Lily laughed again. Virgil swatted her hand away when she offered to help him up. “Tell me, Virgie,” Lily said in a fake innocent voice. “Do you have anything to wear to a party?” “Bitch my closet only has stuff in black,” Virgil shot back. “And anyway, why would you even ask that? You know I don’t like going out.” “But Viiiirgiiiie…” Lily whined. “If you keep this up, you won’t have any friends after you graduate! Don’t you want people to remember you?” “The less people remember me, the better.” Lily fell silent, no doubt hearing the undercurrent of hurt in Virgil’s voice. She dropped the topic and went to his closet, yanking it open. “Uh-you lied, bitch. There’s more than just black here.” Virgil raised his head slightly when she turned around, holding out the sleeve of a purple long-sleeved shirt. His argument died in his throat before he even opened his mouth. The blonde female turned back to her friend’s closet, pulling out every bit of coloured fabric she could find. Some of them were hoodies, some of them were shirts, she found some skirts, a pair of leggings and three scarves. “Only stuff in black”, indeed. “Virgil, come here,” she ordered, sprawling the stuff onto the dorm’s unused bed. “I need your help for this.” “I just said, Lily—” Virgil started to argue, but Lily cut him off by grabbing his wrist and dragging him over. “There’s more than just black here,” she knowingly countered the incoming remark. “And it won’t kill you to go to a few parties!” “What if I get roofied?” Virgil asked in a small voice. Lily’s hand struck the back of his head, making him yelp. “Jesus, Virgil,” she said, exasperated. “No one’s going to roofie your drink!” “Really.” Virgil crossed his arms as the friends faced each other. “So you can tell me for CERTAIN that I’m not going to get drugged out of my mind and kidnapped?” There was a tense silence. Lily sighed and threw one of Virgil’s skirts at him. “Put this on.” “Over my dead body.” “Put it on, Virgil!” Lily dug her head back into the closet. Virgil rolled his eyes and moved behind the spare bed to obey.

An hour later, Virgil stood hugging himself against the cold in front of a mansion, the wind blowing the snow around and stinging his stockinged legs. Lily once again didn’t mind the weather—but then she was in a heavy coat and well defended against the cold as Hell onslaught. Virgil only had a flimsy windbreaker over his sweater to help him. “Come on, Virgil!” Lily interrupted him from mentally writing his will, waving him to come to the door. “It’s not that cold!” “B-B-Bitch, you’re w-wearing a th-th-thick c-coat,” Virgil snarled, his teeth chattering. “I d-d-don’t want t-t-to he-hear it.” “Well then wear a coat next time, silly!” Lily walked over and pulled Virgil against her side, sharing her warmth. Virgil relaxed his hug on himself slightly and mumbled a “thanks”. Lily lead Virgil and one of her friends—Virgil never got her name and couldn’t be bothered to at that point—inside the house, nodding to the person who held the door open for them. The music inside throbbed at his head, already triggering a headache. You’d think they played Christmas music at a Christmas party. Not in this college, apparently. “Come on, Virge!” Lily dragged him to a group of people barely illuminated by deep red lights. Virgil forced a smile as Lily introduced him to them. “Caroline, Susan, Jasmine, this is Virgil!” Lily said. “Virgil, my best friends Carrie, Suzy and Jazzie.” “Um…Hello…” Virgil awkwardly held his hand out for them to shake. Caroline’s lip curled in a disgusted way. “Why is he wearing a skirt?” “Why are you wearing a tux?” Lily shot back. “This is different! If a woman wears a tux, she’s breaking a mold. If a guy does…” Caroline trailed off, wilting under Lily and Jasmine’s glares. “No, continue,” Lily said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. “I want to hear you finish that sentence.” “Nevermind…” Caroline took a drink from her red cup. Lily winked at Virgil, who gave her a grateful smile. Virgil listened half-heartedly as Jasmine launched into an explanation of how “feminine” she felt. Odd thing to say. Caroline oddly didn’t make any snide remarks about it, but she rolled her eyes every time Virgil tried contributing to the conversation. Eventually the girl moved to stand beside Lily and wound up pushing him out of the group. Virgil bit his lip. He knew he should stand up for himself, but he also really didn’t want to hang out with a group of girls all night like a loser. Hell, he didn’t want to be here in the first friggn’ place. He slowly moved away, heading to a table with a bunch of red cups on it. If he acted like he belonged here, maybe nobody would bug him and he’d be able to think of a game plan.

“Okay, cool it, Roman. You’re being ridiculous. Nobody’s staring at you.” Roman took a deep breath, trying to shove any nervousness away. He can do this! He stuck his hands in his hoodie pocket and stepped further into the house. The music blaring in his ears and muffled human speech didn’t really help his internal chill factor. He resisted the urge to play with his hoodie’s sleeves (he knew what that would lead to) and instead elected to walk around the house. His mind went back to the argument he’d had with his mother the night before. She’d been really upset about something he’d been doing—his “stupid stimming”, she’d said—and was upset that he couldn’t act normal for 5 seconds. “Just don’t act like yourself for ONE MINUTE! Just ONE! MINUTE!! IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK?! You’re an adult, not a child, now ACT LIKE ONE!” Nope. Nopenopenope. Bad memories. Bad memories won’t help any if they cause him to lose his cool. Roman buried his hands deeper into his hoodie, biting his lower lip. The sounds were really closing in now. ‘I can do this. I have to do this. I can be an adult, prove it to her!’ His feet refused to move. He was rooted to the spot, like a tree. People around him seemed unaware, just brushing past him like he was just a decoration. Someone accidentally touched him at one point and he flinched, moving away and backing into someone. He jolted away from them and bumped into another person. “Hey?!” They protested. “You spilled my drink! Watch where you’re going!” “I-I’m sorry—” Roman moved away from them, flinching when someone grabbed his shoulders. “Calm down, dude,” a voice said. “What drugs are you on?” “Don’t touch me!” Roman jerked away. The man that had grabbed him held his hands up in a calming gesture. “Easy, dude. It’s scary when you’re tripping balls. Come with me, I’ll take you home.” ‘I don’t need to go home!!’ Roman yelled at him mentally. ‘I need to prove something to mom!! I need to last for a little bit longer!!!’ He backed away from the well-meaning hands and suddenly found himself on the floor. The guy tried to reach out to help him up but Roman couldn’t hear his voice over the ringing in his ears. He gripped at his hair to stop himself from flapping his hands, to no avail. Everything was too much, he couldn’t see straight, and even humming loudly didn’t do anything to help. It felt like his chest was crushing his lungs and making it hard to breathe. Was he yelling? He couldn’t tell. Someone suddenly knelt in front of him. Roman focused long enough for him to make out the face of his friend Virgil. He couldn’t hear what he was saying, it’s too much! Virgil took Roman’s hands off his head gently, holding them. He instantly let go when Roman started to flap them. The presence of a friend and finally allowing himself to stim made the ringing in his ears subside enough for him to hear Virgil. “Take it easy, redhead,” he was saying. “Listen to me, not the voices in your head. Breathe with me. Inhale for seven seconds, hold for eight, exhale for four. There we go, that’s much better.” Roman didn’t feel much better. The ringing was starting again and he was getting a headache. Virgil coaxed him to stand and took his hand. Roman gripped it tightly as his purple-haired friend led him away from the noise and the people, away from the music and the heavy feeling. He found himself sitting on the couch, Virgil staying beside him and now playing on his phone. The ringing in his ears and overwhelmed feeling subsided and left him feeling like an utter fool. Mom was right—he can’t handle this kind of scene. He’s not a collage kid. He’s too needy. Virgil looked up from his phone when Roman sighed. “You feel okay?” He asked. Roman nodded. Virgil gave him a disbelieving look and sat up straighter, putting his phone away. “You don’t look like it,” he said. “You looked like you were about to lose it back there.” Roman blushed, rubbing the back of his neck and flapping his other hand slightly. “It’s nothing…” A silence fell between them. “You can’t stand crowds either, hm.” Roman looked up at Virgil again. “You…?” “High anxiety.” Virgil sat back, leaning his head back against the couch and closed his eyes. “I got dragged here against my will.” Roman giggled, trying to hide it in his hand. “Like a damsel in distress?” He asked. Virgil opened one eye to give him a death glare. “Any comment about girls and skirts and I’ll slit your throat.” Roman giggled again. Virgil shut his eye, smiling vaguely. They sat for a bit in comfortable silence, Virgil pretending to sleep and Roman looking around the room. Eventually Virgil opened his eyes again and turned his head to Roman. “Why’re you here?” Roman’s shoulders slumped. “I’m proving something to mom.” “What, that you have anxiety?” “No!” Roman crossed his arms. “That people with Autism can still be adults.” Virgil raised one eyebrow. “I don’t follow.” “My mom and I got into a fight the night before. She wants me to act more normal.” That seemed to get Virgil’s attention, seeing as how he sat up and watched him with wide eyes. Roman continued undeterred. “She complained that I don’t think like an adult and that I can’t even be normal for five seconds.” “I’m sorry—back up.” Virgil waved one of his hands to stop Roman. “She wants you to be what?” “Normal. Without Autism.” Roman shrugged. “I try to tell her that this is my normal, but I guess it’s not enough. She does love me though!” He finished quickly when a dark look crossed Virgil’s face. Virgil started to say something when his phone buzzed. He looked at it for a few moments before throwing it to the floor and burying his face in his hands. “Fuuuck, I don’t want to go back…” Roman tilted his head to the side. He suddenly had an idea. He nudged Virgil’s shoulder and couldn’t help but smile when his friend only moved a finger to look at him. “What if we treat this as an escape?” Roman suggested. “We can run up here if we need to get away again.” Virgil paused to think. Eventually he leaned down to grab his phone and stood up to face Roman again. “Deal. Do you want to stay together?” Roman’s eyes lit up. He grinned and nodded rapidly. Virgil rolled his eyes and grabbed his hand, almost yanking him off his feet as he headed back down to the noise of the party.

Roman and Virgil wound up hiding in the room three more times. Roman had more fun one-on-one with him than he thought he ever would with a house full of random people. Virgil also found himself enjoying the bombastic redhead’s company…Not that he was going to say it out loud. Their fun was soon spoiled by the fact that Roman’s mom had come to pick him up. They were now standing on the sidewalk waiting for her to find a parking spot, Virgil hugging himself and shivering with Roman watching him in worry and trying to work up some courage. He eventually found his voice on the woman’s third lap around the block. “Virgil? I wanted to ask you something…” Virgil looked up at him. Roman struggled to keep his cool (in a better way this time). Why must this man insist on wearing eyeliner, it made his eyes look so big it was so CUTE- “What?” Virgil asked. Roman shook himself out of his enraptured state. “I was wondering…If…” “If you ask me for a kiss I’ll slap you.” Roman couldn’t help laughing at his friend’s bluntness. “No! No! That’s not it at all!” “Then what is it?” “Do you want to hang out this weekend?” There! He said it! Virgil was quiet in thought. He then shrugged. “Sure. I don’t think I have any plans on for that day.” “Really?!” Roman bounced up and down slightly. “That’s great! Thank you so—” His mom cut him off by blaring her car horn. Apparently she’d finally found a parking space…Right across the road. Who’d have thought. “I’d better go inside before I freeze to death,” Virgil said. “O-Okay. Bye Virgil!” Roman waved at his friend as he left. “Text me if you need someone to talk to!” “Who was that?” Roman’s mom asked when he got into the car and started brushing snow off himself. He looked out the window and saw Virgil watching him for a moment before his blonde friend came out and dragged him inside. He smiled to himself. “So I won the bet. That’s my new friend…”

#Still Human AU #Redhead Writes #Sanders Sides #autism au #Roman Sanders #Virgil Sanders #meltdowns #death threats

[odysseywritings]

2 Friends go to a Halloween Party for Possible Dates

A woman in her mid-20s with chin-length dark brown hair and adorning a white collar shirt sped-walk her way to her apartment with a mixture of glee and anxiety. She sped up her way up the stairs as she called out someone’s name excitedly.

“Izzy, Izzy, Izzy!” she whooped. “I got some great news!”

She banged on the door a few times. Happiness giving way to irritation as she knocked some more.

“It is open, Rose” a slow feminine voice from the other side chimed. 

Rose opened the door to find Izzy, a woman with long curly black hair and wearing a purple robe, sitting down in the middle of the room with her eyes closed. The room was blackened except for several candles lighting various areas.

“I was close to contacting a spirit named Jeremiah,” Izzy said without turning her head. “I hope you understand that.”

“The occult stuff can wait,” Rose waved her hand. “Right now, I got something to tell you!”

Rose turned on the light as Izzy sighed and looked at her with a serious look.

“So I overheard some coworkers, I wasn’t eavesdropping about one’s DUI situation by the way, and one of them brought up a Halloween party downtown.”

“I hate parties. And since when have you ever enjoyed scary things?”

“Hey, I’ve seen plenty of scary people at work. I just need a breather from horror movies.” She sighed and composed herself. “Anyway,” She continued with a smile and twirled her hair. “There’s a certain coworker that I’m really liking… And he said he’d be there!”

“Ah. Well, hope you have a good time.” Izzy said as she closed her eyes again.

“And he mentioned having a sister who’s also single~”

Izzy turned her head. “Go on.”

Rose grinned as she was relaxing and ditching her work clothes for casual wear.

“If she’s like her brother, then I feel she’d be laid-back,” Rose added. “Which thank God, I get so tired of assholes every day. Only I’m allowed to be high-maintenance!” 

“Don’t I know it,” Izzy quipped. “What’s their names?”

“Cosmo and Maddie Peters,” she continued. “He’s kinda stoic and sluggish, so I thought he was going to be cold and lazy. But he’s very reliable, covers the other guys when they can’t make it, and lightens up the mood if I’m feeling especially pissy.”

“Yin-Yang, huh?”

 “His sister’s the same I think,” she sat down on the couch wearing a red t-shirt and maroon shorts and turned on the TV. “He says she’s really upbeat and into a lot of alternative junk. Not bad things, just out-there things. So you and her can talk about counter-culture stuff.”

“I already love her energy. Carefree and unchained by social constraints.”

“That’s the spirit! I want this to be a natural, authentic experience.” She whipped out a list with an eager grin. “So I made a list of things we should do before, during, and after the party!”

Izzy stared in utter befuddlement. Any snark coming to her were failing as Rose was about to commence talking her ear off.

“Why not,” Izzy began, “we just start with costumes to where and go from there?”

Rose blinked. “You are so right. Oh, I need to write down what I’d look good as.”

Izzy sighed and slumped back, content with something morbid and gruesome in her head.

The women exited their building with their costumes completed. Rose went with a classic black cat costume complete with black marker whiskers and fake fangs. Izzy conversely went with a zombie look with make-up used to have her skin appear rotting and her eyes discolored through gray contact lenses. Sunset’s orange and violet coloring closed in on them as they headed out, Rose having a purposeful stride as Izzy followed with a calm gait.

“So how do you think we should break the ice,” Izzy inquired. 

“First thing’s first,” Rose said. “We compliment their costumes no matter how weird they look to us.” She looked at Izzy’s zombie get-up. “Or just to me.”

“Maybe ask what they like, too.”

“Yes! Then we just have to be our normal selves. Mostly. In acceptable doses.”

“You are really overthinking this. I’d just be glad if the sister is even looking for someone like me.”

“I met a lot of picky guys, alright? But you’re right, he doesn’t seem like the type to be judgy.”

They approached a sign attached to a street light that welcomed guests to a ‘frighteningly fun time’ with cutesy skulls and pumpkins decorated on it with a 21+ disclaimer underneath. 

“This is it, Izzy,” Rose affirmed. “Rember. Acceptably weird.”

Izzy looked at her and shrugged.

“While we look for them let’s enjoy ourselves with some games,” Izzy maintained. “Wait. How am I going to know what they look like if they’re wearing costumes.”

“Oh, Cosmo will probably wear something strange.”

“Wow, you’re right. That really does help narrow it down.”

“Just trust me! We’ll find them soon enough.”

Without looking, Rose bumped into a man considerably taller than her wearing a dark green cloak. The man gave her a wretched look with his intense blue eyes.

“Oh my god!” Rose gasped. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking.”

The cloaked man glared at her and raised a finger.

“Watch your step, you idiot.”

“Watch your mouth, micro-nuts,” Rose chided. 

The man was too perplexed to make a comeback and only looked at her again before the two girls headed off.

“The nerve of that guy!” Rose went on. “Grr! Let’s just find them and get it over with.”

“You’re not going to get on the boy’s good side with that attitude,” Izzy retorted. “Let out some steam and play a game.”

“Right, yeah,” Rose grumbled and sighed. 

One of the stands had a pumpkin carving contest and Rose took up the chance to use her frustration on a vegetable. She sat on a free chair and readied herself as Izzy went elsewhere. As time went on, the pirate-dressed judge was impressed by the contestants but was frightened by Rose’s intense carving and her creation of a screaming face. The clock rang, and the judge gave the winning prize of a candy basket to a person with a witch carving. Rose slumped, but at least the energy was out of her.

“Well,” she started. “That was a good game anyway.”

“I’ll say,” a baritone voice said from her right side.

The sound made her eyes widen and she turned to see a light heaired man wearing a wizard robe and hat smiling with a glazed look as he slowly waved.

“H-Hi, Cosmo!”

“Hi, Rose. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Me neither.” She paused. “I mean- It’s a nice surprise to find you here!”

He nodded. “I liked your technique of stabbing the hell out of the pumpkin. It’s a dying art I feel.”

“Oh, that. Yeah, I got a bad mood from a jerk earlier. But I’m much better now.” 

She looked at his carving with a raised brow.

“I like the… carrot?”

“Spaceship.”

“That was my second guess.”

They both laughed, though Rose’s loud cackle dominated his mild chuckle.

“By the way,” Cosmo continued. “My sister’s here too. I think she’d get a kick out of you.”

“Oh, what a coincidence! My friend is here, too. We’re like sisters in a very loose way.”

“You could say that,” Izzy interrupted from behind.

“Jesus!” Rose jumped and clutched her chest. She breathed heavily until she cooled down. “Uh, Cosmo. This is Izzy Watson. Izzy, Cosmo Peters.”

The two strangers looked at each other with mild expressions.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“Excellent,” Rose mumbled. She looked at Izzy who gave her an expectant reaction. “Oh! You said your sister was here? We’d like to meet her if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

He stayed in his chair for a good while as Rose tapped her foot anxiously.

“Cosmo?”

“Oh, I don’t know where she is. But we can find her.”

“Ngk. Sure, that’d be fine.”

The trio searched around until they saw a redheaded woman excitedly bobbing for apples in vampire attire. 

“Found her,” Cosmo said.

“How can you tell,” Izzy replied.

“Because redhead vampires are really rare.”

Izzy was stunned by his nonchalance and decided to just accept the answer. The woman waved to Cosmo with the apple still in her mouth as she jogged to them. 

“He~y!” she bubbled. “Cosmo, who are these lovely ladies?”

“Mattie, this is my coworker Rose Nakano.”

“Hey, how are ya!” Mattie burst.

“And her friend Izzy Watson.“

“Hi, there,” she cooed. “That zombie make-up looks really cool.”

Izzy’s frown lifted slightly and thanked her as she pushed her hair back. Rose in turn was smiling at the two getting along.

“Hmm,” Rose pondered. How about we travel together for a bit? We never get much chance to talk outside of work, Cosmo. And Izzy actually wants to talk to someone.”

Cosmo tapped his chin. “Yeah, all right.”

The 4 traveled around, with Rose initiating conversations with Cosmo about music tastes.

“Get out!,” Rose exclaimed and playfully shoved Cosmo. “You like Thunder Star, too?! I love their riffs and goofy music videos!” 

“Same,” Cosmo softly said with a small smile. “Johnny Fingers is the best rock bassist. I love how you can hear him. It’s really melodic and cool.” He smiled more as his face reddened to Rose’s delight.

On the other end, Mattie talked with Izzy about horror movies they saw recently including a folk horror movie about 17th century New Englanders.

“And there’s a lot of historical accuracies and everything,” Mattie blurted. “I think the focus on paganism being evil is really cliche, but the movie is so tense that I completely let it slide!”

“If you like horror,” Izzy smirked. “You’ll really like ‘Grid’. It’s about a serial killer in a town that loses all its electricity in one night.”

“Ugh, I hate that image, but I want to see it!”

“I can rent it for us to watch sometime.”

“Count me in,” Mattie replied as she twirled her hair.

Eventually the pairs split off to do various games as fog was covering the outdoor party, having a blue coloring that was mostly ignored by the 4 in their joyous moments.

#pretty long read #halloween #romance #F/M and F/F #perhaps something spooky later on?! #ooooooo #writeblr #njm

[eisforeidolon]

Unhuman Nature

Honestly, if I actively wanted to watch a terribly written fantasy soap opera, I'll bet there are more entertaining ones out there I could find.  I felt like this episode desperately wanted me to be emotionally invested in a lot of really ridiculous and completely over-the-top soapy bullshit that neither the episodes preceding it nor this one actually did the work to earn – at least not from me.

It's Bucklemming so this is yet another episode filled to the brim with Nick bullshit.  I'm seriously supposed to care about Nick's wailing angst over a murder that happened to characters we didn't even meet alive nine seasons ago? LOL.  I'm supposed to be, what, scared by him becoming a bog-standard human serial killer when even Pellegrino’s Lucifer hasn't been scary in several seasons?  Yawn. I should be in any way drawn in by this story about the influence of possession on a human vessel when exploring that would be a million times more interesting with the actual main characters and it's written with all the subtlety and nuance of a brick to the face?  Oh, please. Not to mention that it would actually be more interesting if demons hadn't killed Nick's family, that's how predictable and unnecessary this plotline is.  The only thing that separates Nick and his family from every other group of randos harmed by monsters along the way is Ross-Lemming's Pellegrino thirst.  The amount I absolutely do not care cannot be understated.

I think we're supposed to be sympathetic to the Winchesters being flummoxed by being questioned trying to admit Jack to the hospital?  Like, normal people would be flustered by their worry in that situation, so we should feel it more?  Except I wasn't sympathetic, because the Winchesters aren’t normal people - I thought it just made them look like idiots.  Castiel, okay, him not knowing how anything works in that situation makes sense.  Sam and Dean though?  Within the show itself they've had to check themselves, each other, and other people they care about into the hospital.  So they should damn well know how hospitals are about insisting on getting information upfront, and yet they don't discuss what to say for Jack in advance when they're thinking about taking him in?  Let alone when they're in the car driving him there?  No, of course they don't, because these writers are perfectly happy to make the characters idiots or OOC to do a “dramatic” scene they've decided they want.

Speaking of which, I already reposted some people pointing it out at the time, but the scene with Rowena not knowing who Jack is another example of that.  She literally said his name when she was taunting Lucifer last season, but Bucklemming don't give a shit about continuity and desperately wanted a scene of pathetic woobie Jack convincing Rowena to stay after she was upset about his existence/possible evil.  Pay attention to something in someone else's episodes?  Ha, like they even pay attention to what's in their own!  The thing is, Rowena being reluctant to help Jack and Jack playing on Rowena's desire to be appreciated by thanking her (without any awareness how persuasive that particular tack is) could actually work just fine if it wasn't proceeded by Rowena's sudden inexplicable bout of amnesia.  Hell, the whole thing where she comes rushing in thinking Sam has called her to help save Dean would actually work better if they had remembered she already knew who Jack was!

Then there's the part where archangels can juice themselves up on regular ol’ angel grace, but Jack, of course, has a whole new set of special rules where that can't work because reasons.  That's pretty much how all powers in this show work now, so I'm not surprised, just disappointed.  I could maybe even forgive that for Jack because we haven't had a nephilim character before and they are meant to be a fairly rare and unique hybrid creature, but when the rules for bog standard witches and angels seem to change every single time they show up on screen, I am over it.  

So the episode opens and Sam, Dean, and Cas are all SO CONCERNED about Jack.  Yet for some reason, Dean is the only one that goes with him on his “live life for a day” trip, because …  Okay, Castiel goes off to meet with Ketch's contact, Accent Guy.  So at least there was an excuse there and he was trying to do something theoretically productive.  But Sam just stays in the bunker … because ... it's not like he and Dean would have gone through every bit of information on nephilim that's in there already when they thought he was a threat.  Or again when he lost his grace to begin with so they’d know what to expect.  Going back through the material they have absolutely no reason not to have read already certainly couldn't be pawned off on the suddenly  AWOL AU!hunters who literally, personally owe Jack their lives.  Nope, that would make them actually useful for once, so Sam had to stay behind for reasons.

Look, I'm not saying I didn't like the scenes with Jack and Dean, because I did.  Nor that I didn’t appreciate the brief bit of Impala porn in the teaching-Jack-to-drive segment.  Nor that if I was going to pick only one of those three for a fun last-day-alive romp, it wouldn't be Dean.  With that said, there was literally no reason for Sam to stay back when he's had the closest relationship to Jack overall – it was one of the most transparently ridiculous times the Winchesters have been split up recently for reasons and that is seriously saying something.   It’s not like Dean would be magically unable to develop more of a connection with Jack, if that was the whole intent, if Sam was also there.  Even from the angle of Sam sometimes coming off like a killjoy, I don't believe he wouldn't be willing to indulge a dying Jack in the same way he's sometimes been willing to indulge Dean when he was in peril or down (early season 3, Plucky, Advanced Thanatology, etc.)if he’d gotten the same speech from Jack about wanting to live a little more in what time he had - and they all but asked for Sam’s permission to go before leaving anyway. 

Part of what makes it so ridiculous is how hard other parts of the episode were selling the contrived, fanfiction-borrowed Jack-is-their-smol-son thing.  Again, this is something I know a lot of other people are actually into, but it really isn't working for me to the extent they're selling it.  I’m not saying they don’t care about him, but he's not literally their kid.  For one, he's not actually a child.  For two, most of the time where he and the Winchesters were actually together, it was because they were afraid he'd go darkside.  For three, a great chunk of the limited time he's been alive, he was in Apocaworld, not even with them.  It's bad enough that literally everybody is totally family now after, like, an episode.  It's bad enough Jack's personality is more often than not written as a beige blob of cutesy inoffensiveness.  Compounding it with this whole oh noes, our actual child has mystical consumption?  God, it's so contrived for the dramaz and so far as I'm concerned, tissue-paper thin if you take out all the fanfic and imagines posts written about it.  

Then there's the part at the end where Dean apologizes for taking Jack out for the day because … fuck if I know?  The reason Jack's worse at the end is because he was already dying and they tried some unknown spell thing from some sketchy contact Ketch knows, so if there's any guilt to be had there, which is dubious, it should be on trying some spell they know basically nothing about without trying to research it first.  Like, it felt like Bucklemming suddenly decided they couldn't end the episode without Dean gratuitously feeling guilty for something because his only real emotions are guilt and anger, so here you go!

Finally, gosh, if death ever really meant anything on this show anymore, this ending would totally be sad and shit.  As it is?  Even if I wasn't spoiled for future events, the only thing I feel is: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  Great job, guys.  Keep up the good work!

#spn season 14 #spn 14x07 #writer incompetence #anti bucklemming #long post #negativity for ts