#go fuck yourself no one asked your opinion on the subject anyways you just saw an opportunity and decided to rant

[stellarremnant]

will never understand people who care more about others' gender identity than billionaires actively destroying the economy

[suugrbunz]

Don’t throw your writing away. It’s a part of yourself, something you’ve put time and emotion into. Believe me, you’ll regret it - I still regret ripping up a couple of my journals 8+ years ago. If you need a break, just put your writing aside for a while. Do something else to focus your mind. Things that can help me, when I’m feeling low, are listening to music, reading a book (nonfiction especially), cooking, going out and doing something, and any kind of nonverbal creative activity (clay sculpting, making music, drawing, sewing, knitting). 

I recommend reading a book that’s very different from what you might usually read or write about. As in, if you usually read a lot about WWII, don’t read about that - try something completely different. 

Watching a good film or TV show can be comforting too. Again, something that really helps me is going outside my usual subjects - so try watching something different. 

Writing something different can help too. Maybe just do some journaling about what’s happened in your day, each day. Or write about your favourite memories.

If you read total rubbish on the internet, stop it! I’ve wasted hours reading absolute trash articles and scrolling on strangers’ profiles. It’s not worth it. 

Take care and be good to yourself. If you just sit around or let your thoughts fester, you’ll never feel better. Do something different. It’s basic advice but it can work wonders <3

so basically, me hating my writing for a moment came from a fight with my friend which I'm still resolving. it also partly comes from I don't know what exactly I wish to do with my next chapter and usually i ask that friend her opinion— but we're in the midst of communicating our feelings so I can't just suddenly ask "hey does this or this create a better plot.".

i do appreciate your suggestions but i tend to do all of that already; i help my mother cook because she has a chronic illness (but i love that we get to spend time together). i read physical books because i use them as a way to better my writing but i need to read more. funnily enough, i have to sew the seam of my pants which I'll be doing when my cat isnt around me. she loves to try and eat my scissors or my sewing needle. Funnily enough, I don't read ww2 books. I tend to read all sorts of books. Maybe I'll re-read some mahmoud darwish. My parents only have one streaming service (youtubeTV) as that's all we can afford right now. Which doesn't have anything I enjoy. So, um, if anyone has any tubi recommendations, go for it!

I've been trying to decrease my time spent on social media; i uninstalled tiktok nearly six or seven months ago, i try not to look at Instagram too much but it is my primary way of texting people. Instagram and tiktok fuck me up though. I saw someone with a similar body shape as my own and everyone was body shaming her for being an hourglass figure... it's one thing when porn addicted men shame women; like it's taken with a grain of salt. However, seeing women shame her made me feel so small yk? i need to stop looking at Instagram comments. especially when everyone has such skewed perceptions of body image? i mean i wrote zosa with an eating disorder as a way to vent for me with the hope that a representation of someone with an eating disorder would help someone feel like... they're not alone. um, anyway, I'm getting off track. idk, sorry.

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Monday

Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 1)     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Pairing: SBI x sister!reader (she/her pronouns)

Warnings: swearing, toxic friends, panic spirals/attacks, injury, taking pills for pain

Summary: you have a very bad week, how will you manage? (Characters are fully human, but based on their DSMP characters. High school AU)

Word count: 4,818

(A/N): I’ve never played volleyball or watched Haikyuu before, so I’m not 100% certain how games work. Also, I probs should’ve split this into two parts, but eh.

“(Y/n) love, you look homeless in that sweater, it’s literally so fucking ugly.”

“Haha, yeah it is. I guess I just wasn’t really trying today.”

Adrian snorted, scanning your body with his cold eyes. “Today? You don’t try at all. You always look like trash.”

“More than trash, you always look like you just rolled in dog shit.” Sammy threw her head back and cackled at her own joke.

Your friends around you erupted in laughter as you four walked down the hallways of the hell that was your public high school. You awkwardly chuckled alongside them, you didn’t really find it funny, but you didn’t want to draw more attention towards yourself. 

“Seriously, (y/n), I really don’t know why we still hang out around you anymore. You really let yourself go.”

“Yeah, now that I think about it, you did gain like five pounds in the past week.”

“Really not a good look on you, love. Then again, nothing you do can make you look good anymore.”

You tried to not let their comments get to you, you really did, but sometimes their comments just rooted themselves deep into your subconscious. You didn’t try looking good anymore, you couldn’t wear anything without them criticising it. You could never win. 

“Awe,” Adrien poked your cheeks, “stop looking so sad. We’re just trying to give you advice. You really need it.”

“Yeah, (y/n). You’re so sensitive, get a grip.”

“Guys look, I think she’s gonna cry!” 

You wiped at your welling eyes with the sleeves of your sweater. “I’m not. I just got allergies.”

Annie rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh. Anyways, what are our plans for Halloween? We should totally dress up like sexy angels! I think that’d be so cool. Like, Clint’s party won’t be ready for us.”

“Oh, about that Annie…”

“God, what now (y/n)?”

“I was actually planning on spending Halloween night taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating with my brothers and dad. I won’t be able to go with you guys, I’m sorry.”

The group groaned loudly. “C’mon (y/n), you never hang out with us anymore.”

“Oh my god (y/n) you still go trick-or-treating? We’re juniors.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been busy with my AP classes and studying for the SAT. My team captain’s really been pushing the team hard with volleyball practice. State finals are soon and we want first this year.”

“No matter how much studying you do, you’re gonna fail. You’re stupid, so why try? Just give up and hang out with uuussss.”

“Yeah (y/n),” Adrien looked at you suspiciously, “you’ve been ignoring us lately. I thought we were friends. Do you even wanna be friends anymore?”

You felt a flare of panic flare up in your gut. “I do! I-I just have so much going on right now. It’s starting to get hard to juggle everything.”

“We’re starting to think that you don’t like us anymore, we want our (y/n) back!” Sammy whined. The others agreed with her, making you feel guilty. You were ignoring them, it was selfish in your opinion. You supposed that you could skip out on taking Tommy and Tubbo trick-or-treating, there’ll be other years you could take them. 

“I guess I can take Tommy and Tubbo another year. They’d just have to go without me this year.”

They cheered, giving you praise. You beamed at that, they seemed down lately and you loved it when they’d give you compliments. They didn’t do that much, so that made their praise more special to you. You strived to get compliments.

You four went off to your separate first classes for the day. Yours was statistics, a class you’ve been struggling in lately. You didn’t know anybody in there except for your oldest brother Techno, so you tried to stick with him. Unfortunately, the teacher’s seating chart placed you both on opposite ends of the room, probably because of your last names indicating that you’re siblings. You placed your stuff down on the table and plopped down into your seat, already drained. You had a long day ahead of you; you had a major AP world history test in your next class, you had to give a presentation in your AP english class that was worth a quarter of your final grade, and you had a semifinals volleyball match that would last until late in the night. If your team won, you would be going to state finals, so it was a lot of pressure on your shoulders. You were the main setter, so you had to really focus tonight if you were going to score your team points. 

“Alright class, pull out your homework!”

Fuck, you had homework? You looked in your folder, only to see the unfinished sheet full of equations you didn’t understand staring back at you tauntingly. Mr. Mullins walked over to your desk, took one look at your blank homework, and just walked right past you. Another big fat zero in the gradebook for you, just what you needed. At least he wasn’t in the mood to berate you today. You didn’t need any more stress piled onto your shoulders. 

The lesson felt like it dragged on forever with you frantically trying to copy down the notes on the board and trying to understand the content at the same time. Overtime, he would call students up to the board. Hopefully, he would skip over you today. “Ms. Minecraft.” Goddamn it, you spoke too soon.

Your head perked up and you looked at him. “Yes sir?”

“Come up to the board and solve this.”

Gulping, you felt panic rise up in you and stood up with shaky knees. On the board was part of the newer content he was just teaching. Something that you understood only a little bit better than the rest, and that’s not saying much. You still didn’t understand the content completely. Your writing was shaky as you wrote what you thought was right on the board. Finding the answer, you circled it and looked at Mr. Mullins. He looked disappointed. 

“That’s wrong, Ms. Minecraft. Please sit down.”

You felt like your face was on fire as you saw the entire class burning holes into you with their eyes. Though they looked dead inside, as per usual with any morning class full of tired teenagers, their effects still took hold on you. You wanted to crawl into a dark hole and die. You sat back down and stared at your note packet, you couldn’t focus on the lecture anymore. Your attention was fully on your surroundings, you were hyper aware of every little whisper and bouncing leg in your peripheral vision. You could feel yourself spiraling, usually that wouldn’t happen until after your third class. Today was going to be rough. 

The loud chime of the bell startled you out of your thoughts. You shakily put your papers back into your binder and put the binder back into your backpack. Right as you were about to walk through the door, you heard Techno catch up to you. “Hey, you good?”

“Yeah Tech, I’m just peachy.”

“Are you su-”

“Technoblade. I’m fine. Now if you excuse me, I have to get to my next class. I have an important presentation I’ve gotta prepare for.”

Without giving him any room to argue, you rushed off to your english class. You had Adrian and Annie in your class. For your presentation, you were paired up with people that you hardly knew. At least they did their part in the project, you were certain you were going to die if you got paired up with Adrian and Annie again. You loved them, but they never did any part of their portion of work. They left it to you to finish at midnight the day the project was due. To be fair, they both told you they had family emergencies, so you covered for them just that once. 

You pulled out your flashcards only to have them knocked out of your hand when someone bumped into you. You quickly crouched to pick them up so you could have them in order by time class started. “Oops, sorry love.”

It was Annie. She and Adrian towered over your crouched form smirking at you. Looking back down to rearrange your cards, you murmured “it’s ok.”

“Are you ready for this presentation, I know I am.”

You smiled a little. “Actually, I think I’m going to ace this. English is my best subject.”

“Yeah (y/n), I wasn’t asking you. I was talking to Annie. Besides, you’re probably going to fail this.” Adrian scoffed. 

“Thank you for asking, Adrian,” Annie shot a pointed look at you, “at least someone cares.”

The bell rang, signifying the start of your second block. You felt like you had a lump in your throat blocking your breathing. If Adrian, one of the smartest kids in your english class, said that you were going to fail, then you probably were going to fail. That would take a huge hit on your grade, this project was worth a quarter of your final grade after all. You were zoned out for the entirety of your classmate’s presentations putting yourself into a spiral. You jumped when Mr. Todd, your teacher, called your group up to present.

You stood stiffly in the middle of your two groupmates and clutched your flashcards with clammy hands. Luckily, your part of the presentation was not first. When it came to your part, you were stuttering and tumbling over your words. You even dropped your flashcards in front of everybody, causing half the class to snicker. Your face burned as you hurried to pick them up and your other groupmate took this as a signal to continue the presentation. You still had an important point to make that was integral for the set up to your other groupmate’s part of her presentation. You stared at your flashcards for the rest of the presentation. 

When the bell rang, you made a mad dash out of the classroom. You didn’t want to talk to anybody, especially not Adrian or Annie. It was a relief that you had your lunch period at the moment. You could hide yourself in the bathroom nobody used and let your panic attack ride itself out. 

You ducked inside a stall and sat on the toilet, bringing your knees up to bury your face in them. The tears and panic you were holding in all day let itself out with explosive effects. You started to hyperventilate as you muffled your sobs with your knee. Your chest painfully clenched so you couldn’t breathe. Your limbs felt like they weighed two tons each and they were shaking intensely. You didn’t hear the end of the lunch bell ring. By the time you calmed down slightly, you were five minutes late to AP world history. 

You packed your stuff up in a hurry, power walking through the halls. You probably looked like shit, but you didn’t care, you had a class to get to and a test that you probably wouldn’t be able to finish now. You lost ten minutes of your test time. When you tried to open the closed door, you found that it was locked. You had to knock if you wanted to get in. You raised a shaking hand to knock, but the door was opened by a less-than-impressed Ms. Osborne. She ushered you to your desk and gave you your unit test. 

You couldn’t focus. The multiple choice section was usually a breeze to you, but you couldn’t comprehend any of the questions. When you could comprehend them, you couldn’t concentrate on choosing an answer. You did your best to find the correct answers, but you were almost positive that at least half of them were wrong. Your handwriting was nearly incomprehensible and your essay topic was something you didn’t study for. When you were done with half of the body paragraphs, the bell rang and you had to turn in your unfinished test. 

You had your independent online psychology course next in the library. You usually worked alone secluded in a corner deep inside the library where nobody went. You would get some solace in being alone. Maybe you’d calm down enough so that you could ride home with your brothers and not go for a long walk so you could avoid them. 

You settled down in the comfortable chair and pulled out your laptop to get started. Psychology was your favorite class. It was easy for you to understand, it didn’t have much of a workload attached to it, and it was fun to learn about. It always calmed you down reading about the intricate workings of the brain. 

By time the day was over, you got most of your psychology work done and you were on your way to the car you shared with Technoblade and Wilbur. You took out your spare keys and slumped against the window in the backseat. You were absolutely drained after your terrible day and you still felt panic swirling deep within you, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

You stretched out your legs across the seat and leaned your back against the door. For the first time that day, you felt peaceful. You still had at least fifteen minutes to yourself until your brothers would start to make your way to the car. You felt the panic subside slightly and you fully relaxed. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift off into a light sleep. You needed your energy for tonight’s match. 

The door you were leaning on swung open and you tumbled backwards smacking the back of your head against the metal frame of the car and reverse scorpioning onto the pavement. Your entire upper back and the back of your head exploded in pain and your lower back hurt slightly from having your back bent uncomfortably. You heard laughter above you as you felt tears of pain start to slip out of your eyes. Your legs swung out from their place above your face and landed on the ground with a painful thump. 

You saw three blurry figures above you laughing at your pain. You reached up with a shaky hand to wipe at your tears and saw Adrian, Sammy, and Annie. They were cackling as you shakily stood up and sat on the comfortable seats of the car. You waited patiently for them to calm down. 

Eventually, Sammy calmed down enough to explain what happened to you through chuckles. “I’m sorry (y/n), it was just too good to resist. You should’ve seen your face.”

She and the others broke back into uncontrolled laughter as they remembered your embarrassing fall. You were used to their antics, and quite frankly it felt good to make your friends laugh, even if it were at your own expense. Just as they were calming down once again, you saw Wilbur and Techno walk out the front doors of the school laughing at something the other said. Annie and Sammy heard their laughter and quickly turned around to watch them. They had massive crushes on both of your brothers, many in the school did. 

Your brothers made their way to your shared car and stopped to look at you in slight confusion. “(Y/n), were you crying? What happened?” Wilbur asked worriedly. 

“Yea-”

“Oh Wilbur, it was terrible, (y/n) fell out of the car. I don’t think she closed the door before she leaned on it.” Annie interrupted you with a faked concerned tone, a complete contradiction to her reaction before your brothers came.

Techno hastily made his way to the driver’s side door. “Well, if she’s hurt we better get going, right Wilbur?”

“Yes! We better get going, please excuse us.” He sat in the passenger seat and closed the door without hearing Sammy and Annie’s desperate attempts to stop them so they could talk to them. Your brothers thought Sammy and Annie were annoying. They absolutely hated being around them. 

Waving apologetically at your friends, you pulled yourself into the car and closed the door. Annie and Sammy looked offended that you had let Wilbur and Techno get away from them. Avoiding their eyes, you looked down at your tightly clasped hands. They were shaking slightly. 

After pulling out of the parking lot, Techno glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “You ok (y/n)?”

“Yeah, my back just hurts and I have a headache.”

“Well, do you wanna go and get some ice cream? We still have some time left before we have to pick up Tommy and Tubbo. Dad doesn’t have to know,” Wilbur asked you.

You sighed, you wanted nothing other than to take a nap before your match. “Sorry, but I need to watch what I eat today. We have semifinals tonight and I can’t have anything sugary. I just wanna go home and take a nap.”

Your brothers were quiet for the rest of the car ride until you reached your driveway. Techno twisted his body around in his seat to look at you after he put the car in park. “Did you actually fall out of the car?”

Shit, should you tell him the truth? If you did, they would almost certainly get mad at your friends. Sammy and Annie would never forgive you if you turned your brothers against them. You decided that you would take one for the team again. “Yeah, I wasn’t paying attention.” 

Techno snorted. “Well, that was stupid,” he jokingly said. “Next time you’re gonna get run over by a parked car.”

You knew that he meant that as a joke, but it still stung. Stamping your emotions down, you laughed with him and Wilbur. It was stupid of you to do, you shouldn’t have let your guard down if you weren’t at home. 

You winced as you slung your bag on your back and walked the best you could back into your house. Your upper back was killing you. You made a beeline to the bathroom and rummaged through the medicine cabinet looking for some pain relief pills. You took some and shambled off to your room to take your well earned nap. You set your alarm’s setting to its loudest volume and passed out. 

You jolted up and gasped when you felt a wave of pain hit your upper back. You blearily looked at the time. You had a little under two hours before you had to get back to the school for your match. You groaned when you pulled yourself up, your head pounding with every turn. You pulled yourself out of bed and once again took some pain pills. You went downstairs to grab an apple or something to eat. Your dad was at the stove stirring something around in a pot. 

He turned to look at you with an excited smile. “You ready for your match tonight? You’re gonna kill it!” 

You only nodded halfheartedly and plopped yourself down at the table with your apple. Philza frowned at your lack of enthusiasm, but he figured that it was just because you just woke up from a nap. You’d bounce back eventually. 

“Wilbur told me that you fell out of the car? How’d you do that?”

You shrugged, wincing slightly as it moved your back slightly. “Dunno, must’ve not closed the door.”

Philza was at your side in a hurry, his hands hovering over your shoulders. “Did you get hurt? Show me where it hurts.”

“My back and the back of my head.”

“Can I move your shirt so I could look?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

You felt him gently pull the neck of your t-shirt away from your body to peek at your back. You heard his breath hitch as he looked. Was it that bad? “Good god (y/n),” he breathed out.

“What, is it bad?”

“Don’t you feel how bad it is? Your entire back is bruised. I think there’s some blood too.”

“Damn.”

“First, language. Second, that’s all you have to say? Aren’t you in pain?”

“Yeah, but the pain pills are gonna kick in soon. I’ll be fine.”

“Would you be able to play tonight? I really think you should sit this one out.”

“No, I’m playing tonight Dad.”

“(Y/n),” oh no, he was using his stern dad voice. “It’s not a good idea to play tonight. You’re hurt, I’m sure they’ll understand if you sit this one out.”

You felt frustration rise up in you. “We’re in the semifinals. They need me, I’m the main setter. They’d lose without me playing.”

“(Y/n), I’m serious. You’re not playing today.”

“Dad, I am playing today. Look, I’ll talk to Coach Williams to see if I could be rotated out more often. I know she’d let me.”

He stared at you for a while before sighing. He knew there was no convincing you. “...Fine. But you better talk to Coach Williams about sitting out for a bit if your back hurts too much or I swear I’ll drag you off the court myself.”

You smiled a little at the small victory. “Thank you! I promise I’ll sit out if needed.”

He quirked an eyebrow at you. “If needed?”

You sighed, “when needed.”

He walked over to the pot, stirring the contents slightly. “That’s better. Dinner’s almost ready, I made some pasta.”

“It smells good, but I think I’m skipping out on it for today. I already ate this apple and if I eat any more I’ll probably hurl on the court.”

He made a displeased noise in the back of his throat, “fine, but you’re eating something when we get home tonight.”

He walked off to go get your brothers and Tubbo for dinner. You could hear their booming steps racing down the stairs towards the kitchen. They raced into the kitchen and almost crashed into the back of your chair. You stood up and looked at the two excitable fifth graders. “Careful boys, don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You’re no fun (y/n),” Tommy whined.

“Sure, sorry bout that,” Tubbo beamed at you.

You chuckled, making your way upstairs to get ready for your match. You took off your clothes with great difficulty and slipped on your jersey and your spandex shorts. They were way too short for your tastes, but you couldn’t wear longer ones, they’d just get in the way. You fondly remembered how your dad flipped out when he first saw you in them, he hated them with a burning passion. He still hates how short they are.

When you were struggling with pulling your hair back into a tight, sleek ponytail, the back of your head throbbed continuously with pain. You most likely bruised your scalp. 

You slipped on your shoes that were made specifically for playing volleyball and headed downstairs. You were met with Tommy and Tubbo jumping in excitement seeing you in your uniform. They loved going to your matches, even if they would always pass out in the car after them because matches usually ended late at night. You grabbed your dad’s keys and headed to his car. Before you could lead the boys out the door, Philza’s voice stopped you.

“(Y/n), coat.”

You huffed, grabbing your coat and putting it on before tossing him his keys. You four got into the car and set out for the high school. The short drive was filled with Tommy and Tubbo asking you questions about volleyball and encouraging you. “(Y/n), you’re gonna kick their butts!”

“Yeah!” Tubbo cheered 

Despite their voices causing a spike of pain to shoot throughout your head, you laughed at their enthusiasm. It was always nice to hear your little brother and pseudo brother in the stands cheering you on, they were your and your team’s personal cheerleaders. 

Not long after you got to the school, you were stretching with your team on the gym’s floor. Your posse found their way into the stands, sitting in the front row. The away team watched your team like a hawk, analysing every single player for any weakness. It was because of them that you tried to not show any pain when you moved your back. You talked to Coach Williams before the team stretch and she was obviously sympathetic with your situation. She agreed to switching you out with the standby setter every few rotations. 

The echo of the whistles caused pain to ring in your head every time someone scored or a foul was called. Your team captain, Haley, was constantly, yet discreetly checking on you throughout the game since she was always next to you. She was the team’s main spiker after all. 

The game droned on and on before you realized that the opposing team was targeting you when they were offensive. They probably realized that you were injured a round ago. You tried your best to block every ball that was sent your way, but a few managed to slip past you when you couldn’t move fast enough. This team was good, but your team was better. 

The score during the final round was tied and the clock was on it’s last ten seconds as the ball soared your way. You dove to hit it, landing on your shoulder on the hard floor and hitting it up high enough for Haley to spike the ball down. The crowd went wild as the ball bounced off from the opposite end of the court almost simultaneously with the screeching of the referee’s whistle, signifying the end of the game and your team’s victory.

You laid on the floor in pain, you thought you must’ve pulled your tender muscles in your back and shoulder. It hurt to move it. You felt one of your teammates grab your hand to yank you up into a giant full team group hug. You yelped slightly in pain as you felt arms press against your back and hands firmly patting your bruised shoulders. You were whisked away into the locker room to change into the pajamas you brought with you. 

“(Y/n), are you alright? That was a pretty hard fall.” Haley’s soft voice asked you. You felt your heart sing in your chest. 

“Yeah Hales, I’m fine. I just pulled a few muscles.”

Her perfectly shaped eyebrows furrowed together, “are you sure? As your team captain and your friend, I’m worried about you.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. You felt warm knowing that she cared about you. “I’m sure, worrywart.”

She rolled her eyes playfully and breathed out a soft laugh. “Sorry for asking, grump.” Her laugh sounded like music to your ears. 

Your phone vibrated in your pajama pocket, alerting you of your family waiting for you in the car and for you to hurry up. You sighed, “sorry Hales, I gotta go. Dad’s getting impatient.” 

She gave you a small smile. “Oh, well, tell your family I said hi! Good work on the court today, I wouldn’t ask for a different setter.”

You felt your cheeks warm up and you watched with wide eyes as she left the locker room. Your phone vibrated again, your dad was really starting to get impatient. 

You walked out of the school as fast as you could to find your dad’s car waiting for you up front. Jumping in and softly closing the passenger side door, you slumped against the window. “(Y/n),” Tommy’s tired voice slurred. “That. Was. Pog…”

You glanced back to see him and Tubbo snoring away in their seats. Your match was more exciting than usual, so that must’ve really tired them out. You chuckled, turning back around to lean against the window. You took care not to put any weight on your shoulder or back. 

“(Y/n), you were amazing out there, but why did you dive for that ball? That fall looked like it hurt.”

You hummed tiredly, “thanks Dad. I just did what I thought would win us the game. We’re going to finals!” You quietly sang. 

“Did you hurt your shoulder?”

“I actually don’t know, but I think I might’ve pulled a few muscles. Nothing too bad.”

“...I scheduled a doctor’s appointment for you tomorrow morning during your first and second blocks. I want you to get your back, shoulder, and head looked at. You looked miserable the entire match.”

You sighed, too tired to argue, “mmk.”

He chuckled before the car fell into a comfortable silence. The gentle bouncing of the car and the subtle hum of the engine was lulling you to sleep. Your eyelids were drooping by the time you pulled into your driveway. 

You drug yourself out of the car and into the house, leaving Philza with the sleeping boys. You walked straight to your room and plopped down on your bed, passing out instantly for the second time that day.

Series taglist (comment if you want to be added):

[stellocchia]

Okay, now that I have a bit of time it’s time to analize that disaster of a custody battle stream, also known as Tommy and Wilbur visiting Las Nevadas!

As always this is gonna be quite long so I’ll put everything under the cut and remember that I’ll only be talking about the characters. Also for the dialogues the colors are: Quackity, Tommy and Wilbur

One thing that I would like to point out before we get into it is that c!Tommy is pretty much spiraling throughout this stream (he dissociates and shows his suicidal tendencies more clearly) so it’s good to keep this in mind when analizing his actions and words. 

First of all here’s Wilbur’s pov of it: Wilbur's POV

And here’s Tommy’s: Tommy's POV

I’ll be using both for this.

One thing that is immediately interesting to notice is that, despite supposedly living with Phil we mostly see Wilbur around L’Manhole.

“Have you been sewing? Knitting? That can be a dangerous sport if done too quickly” (just wanted to point out the tailor!Tommy bit)

So first of all is the confirmation that the stone never had a use beyond keeping Tommy occupied back when Wilbur asked for it. The task of gathering the stone could also have been a test on Wilbur’s part to test Tommy’s obedience considering that it was a tedious and apparently sensless task that most people would not have taken on.

Afterwards we have an interesting little bit where Wilbur demonstrates that he is still extremely knowledgable when it comes to tnt, knowing which blocks are more resistent to it and even being able to deduce that the ufo was blown up from the inside (something he’ll lie about later). 

“Someone’s a little copycat. Hey tommy someone’s a little copycat~” (in reference to what happened to Purpled’s ufo. This could be interpreted as derogatory we’ll have to see if Wilbur appreciates someone imitating his work)

Quackity’s book is then introduced, though at first Wilbur is very vague about it’s contents before straight up lying about them (saying that it said: “My dearest friend Wilbur, I’ve really missed seeing you, come to project Nevadas your best friend Quackity”), here’s the actual contents of it:

It is possible that he didn’t mention the actual content to Tommy because he was afraid Tommy would have kept him from meeting Quackity if he knew that he seemingly agreed with Wilbur’s ideology, though this is just a theory. 

Another interesting thing is that Wilbur keeps referring to Ghostbur’s resurrection site as his “tombstone” despite Tommy having already told him last time that he didn’t get one. Perhaps this is a show of Wilbur’s own fear of being forgotten or of having been inconsequential to the bigger narrative (his continued search for the confirmation that he did have a big impact would seem to point to this).

“Will, I’m accustomed to people lying to me. Just tell me: will the book, whatever is in there, bring us more primes?” (this is an interesting way for Tommy to let Wilbur know that he knows he’s lying while still trying to keep the conversation more light herted)

On their way to Las Nevadas there is an interesting instance of Wilbur standing still near a creeper instead of trying to protect himself so that Tommy has to intervene (similar instances happen multiple times throughout the stream) which could be a portrayal of his self-destructive tendencies and kinda mirrors Tommy's behaviour in exile. 

“Every person we’ve spoken to aside from say, I don’t know, Jack Manifold. Every person aside from Jack Manifold has taken a bit of a disliking to me. Oh and Phil, Phil was lovely too, and you actually! Come to think of it the 3 people I care about most, Jack Manifold, you and Phil, have been the nicest to me”

There are a few things I wanna say here: first of all there is one manipulation tactic that consists of making yourself out to be the victim in a certain situation in order to gain pity, sympathy or evoke compassion in the other and that’s what Wilbur has been doing both in this stream and in the past when mentioning that people hate him despite every single person he met (aside from Tommy himself) actually being rather kind and accomodating. This does probably come from Wilbur’s own self-hatred and his view of himself as a villain but, once again, I would like to remind you that manipulation is still manipulation even if you believe in what you’re saying. 

The second point I wanted to talk about briefly was the line about only caring about the 3 people he mentioned. Aside from how truthful he is about all 3 of them (I’m sorry but I have a hard time believing that he cares deeply for Jack Manifold when he didn’t even used to remember who he was) he also later mentions that there are other people he would like to see, basically it’s like the L’Manburg situation: just because Wilbur says he doesn’t care about something it doesn’t mean that it’s true.

“They told me it was like a small little town where Big Q sells funny potions and liquids from his van” (so from Tommy’s understanding Las Nevadas was a mix between the drug van and og L’Manburg. I wonder if we’ll find out who gave him this idea)

Little note about Wilbur throwing Linda (Tommy’s prized shovel) away twice during this stream almost casually.

“Tommy stand back. Tommy stand back” (Wilbur interposing himself between Tommy and a situation that might be dangerous, I’ll talk about this a bit later but keep it in mind)

“I’ll tell you what: it’s nice to see you out of that stupid vice president shirt. You know I never thought you were fit for that vice president thing anyway, I think that this is- this is- what- what are you like the concierge of this area? Like the cleaner?” “This is so nice!” “I don’t know what to call it Wilbur all I know is that this is my place. This is mine. I own this place”

It is interesting to note that Wilbur apparently did not think too highly of Quackity, immediately assuming he must be and employee rather then having a leading position, he even expresses that he didn’t think Quackity was fit to even be vice president. It’s also interesting to point out that Tommy gets immediately uncomfortable with where the conversation is going and splits off from the two to explore while also being extra obnoxious in an attempt to split up the fight he knew to be coming (he is always rather perceptive), to which Quackity responds only with amusement (actually humouring Tommy), while Wilbur simply ignores it for the time being. 

“If I’d known there was a place I could align myself to as quickly as this I would have done it sooner” (could be both a search for community as well as him generally prefering being aligned to a country as he comments later on that he’s not a fan of anarchy by mentioning that him and Phil don’t see eye to eye on this)

This is when Wilbur brings up Quackity’s book for the second time mentioning that he assumed it was an invite to joing Quackity in Las Nevadas, which turns out it wasn’t. 

“So that’s the invitation to work alongside you I assume, I- I accept. I accept. I’d love to come in” “Big Q I also wanted... can I move into the big- the big penis?” “*laugh* No Tommy. Wilbur, Wilbur” “Yeah?” “No? No?” “That was... that was not an invitation I’m sorry Wilbur” *Wilbur checks the book again* “That’s not an invitation. Wilbur, Wilbur, my nation will not be subject to your... unpredictability, alright? Thank you so much for coming, thank you so much for visiting Wilbur but, uhm... I don’t need any- I don’t need any extra members right now” 

So taking this conversation a bit at a time: Quackity is the first person since Wilbur has come back (aside from Tommy, but Tommy’s opinion really doesn’t matter to Wilbur) who hasn’t tried to accomodate him. He set his own rules and stuck by them not willing to budge on it at all. Also it is interesting to note that Quackity so far doesn’t seem to be interested in letting Tommy join either, only changing his demeanour later after Tommy calls Wilbur out on his lying. This change of mind could both be tied to a crack he noticed in Tommy’s loyalty to Wilbur as well as done to spite Wilbur himself. Or both really. 

“[Las Nevadas] It’s like one of those visions you have after being in the mines for several hours” (Tommy mentioning having hallucinations once again)

“No... no, you’ve got it all wrong. You’ve got it all wrong man. Okay okay, maybe, maybe I was unprdictable in the past” “But it’s really nice...” “But I’ve turned over a new leaf Quackity! I don’t lie anymore, I don’t- I don’t, you know, I don’t deceive, I know nothing about tnt anymore. I’ve forgotten everything I knew about tnt, it’s ridiculous I-” “*snicker* Ok- mmm, well... Will, well” “Is he lying Tommy?”

Also here we have a clearer example of Wilbur lying and deceiving right after asserting that he doesn’t do it anymore (he deceived Tommy on the book and lied about his knowledge on tnt) together with Tommy calling him out on it.

“This is the best place on the server! This is like heaven! Paradise!” “Quackity we can stay, right?” “You seem to like it a lot Tommy” 

Immediately afterwards there’s where Quackity seems to change his mind about letting Tommy stay while also ignoring Wilbur in the process. Again we really don’t have any definitive indication for the reason why he changes his mind, it could be because he saw how much Tommy liked it here as much as it could be to spite Wilbur. Any conclusion for either is pure speculation.

“Quackity look at me, look at me in the eyes. I. Am. Your. Servant. I am at your service. I have run countries, I’ve won elections, I’ve done everything that you will need in a leadership role, Quackity. Even not in leadership! I can- I can be, you know, assistent to president”

Another less known form of manipulation. Wilbur wants power within this new country so he offers to cover a more “subservient” position to have Quackity let his guard down so that he can achieve his role. 

“Will this is so cool!” “Tommy SHUT UP!” “Hey! What a fu- hey what a fuck?!” (a bit of Wilbur’s “affable” persona slipping away paired up with Tommy immediately noticing that that was not okay and calling Wilbur out on it)

“Wilbur listen to me: I saw what you did to L’Manburg and I’m not letting Las Nevadas have the same fate as L’Manburg. I appreciate Tommy here, I appreciate you checking this place out Wilbur but, I don’t need your services, I don’t need your presence, you’re very unpredictable” (Quackity once more standing his ground and repeating that he does not trust Wilbur in the slightest and also reaffirming that he does want Tommy there instead)

It’s interesting to notice that all throughout this exchange, while Tommy was off exploring Quackity was the one often paying attention to him while Wilbur ignored him the whole time before snapping.

“So we’re not allowed?” “Tommy, I need to talk to you Tommy” “Am I allowed? Or is it just Will?” “Well, I’d love to discuss it with you” (Quackity is the first person that actually directly addressed Tommy while ignoring Wilbur since Wilbur’s resurrection and that’s quite interesting. It could be that perhaps he noticed that Wilbur seems to consider Tommy almost like an extension of himself and that he tried to drive a wedge into that)

The next few minutes are spent with Wilbur trying to find out exactly where the confines of Las Nevadas are.

“Tommy come with me. Tommy at my side please” (addressing him like a soldier again)

There is a back and forth between Wilbur and Quackity where Quackity tries to deflect Wilbur’s question about his ownership of the adiacent forest multiple times, but Wilbur does end up finding out that it’s not Quackity’s land. (Wilbur also has a throwaway comment about that forest being Paradise in response to Tommy calling Las Nevadas that which Tommy disagrees on).

“What’s the point in capitalism without healthy competition?” (Wilbur announcing he wants to create a country next to Quackity’s)

“Wait, where are you going?” “Just over here Tommy. Stay by my side, by my side” (once again an emphasis on wanting Tommy nearby, which isn’t new)

“You know what Wilbur? You’re right: capitalism strives on competition and I’m ready for all the competition you can bring me” (Wilbur is positively giddy at this declaration, which makes me think that he does truly see this competition mostly as a game)

“Will I don’t want to start a country, I very much like that country there” *Tommy points at Las Nevadas* “With the stone-” “Tommy we- we’ll discuss this in a minute” “No...” “No no no, Tommy seems to have some concerns about building a country from the ground up” (Tommy under) “Listen, listen, guys, guys, I was over there” (Quackity over) “So how about you take Tommy’s opinion into consideration? For once, for once in your life since you’ve never done so before” (Tommy under) “Can we please listen to me? You [Quackity] are not lis- you’re not lis- you’re actually speaking over me”

This is the first one of many conversations this stream where the fight has moved from the power pissing context Wilbur and Quackity had going on to Tommy. It’s also where they starting weaponizing him more and more (his traumas as well as the other’s treatment of him) while each trying to prove that they’re better for him then the other. Of course this isn’t actually about Tommy, it’s about power once again. Quackity has undeniably noticed by now how Wilbur treats Tommy (aka as an extension of himself) together with being pissed that Wilbur challenged him on his own territory (challenging Las Nevadas which is Quackity’s most prized possession) so he decided to repay him in kind. 

From here on out Tommy seems to spiral more, standing up for himself less, looking more and more uncomfortable (especially when the other two start bringing up his traumatic experiences) and slipping back into dissociation and self-loathing behaviour.

“You showed great interest for my country Tommy and I would like to speak to you about that” “Yes” “Wilbur I don’t think you’ll hold Tommy down and make him join your country” “I have utter fate that Tommy will make the right decision” (both of them starting to put pressure on him, subtly influencing him with their wording) 

Tommy and Quackity have a chat together alone (though Wilbur is listening in). 

First thing that happens is Quackity bringing up the hotel which Wilbur implies later was done maliciously, though we don’t know if Quackity knew that the ownership of it didn’t go back to Tommy once he came back to life.

Afterwards Tommy asks Quackity about his scar. 

“If I’m gonna speak to you I want you to be honest with me, ‘cause I’ve spent quite a lot of time with people who just bullshit me, they lie to me and I’m not doing that anymore” (this is one of Tommy’s 2 priorities in life right now. What he wants can be boiled down to honesty and safety)

Quackity does explain honestly what happened, though the information that they spent their time hunting down Techno while Tommy was in exile instead of trying to help him does understandably upset Tommy quite a bit. (Also Wilbur finally makes himself a sword).

“But if this [butcher army] was while I was in exile you’re meaning to tell me that you put in all of the effort to kill Techno instead of helping me?” (...) “You know I needed help and no one came to see me” (this set back his mentality regarding exile quite a bit I’d guess. The anger is more then understandable)

Quackity doesn’t deny the accusations but he does deflect a bit saying that they can talk about it another time and that he is not Tommy’s enemy to which Tommy agrees.

“How would you like to run the official food business of Las Nevadas” (this is Quackity’s big offer for Tommy)

(Wilbur putting pressure on Tommy in the meantime)

After this Wilbur intervenes directly inquiring on wether or not they were done. Quackity tries to get in a last minute sale pitch to Tommy who is getting quite overwhelmed and asks for some time to think (which he is now given by Quackity, but not later by Wilbur)

Wilbur also expresses worry for Tommy’s safety while they’re coming back, though how sincere it is it’s unknown (I think it's at least partially sincere worry, but I doubt that's all there is to it). That said I want to say that multiple times in this stream Wilbur has seemingly shown to be protective of Tommy when it comes to Quackity, often almost treating him as if he was incapable of defending himself (as if he couldn’t 1v2 the two of them easily). For example here, even though Tommy said that he can take care of himself Wilbur immediately responds out loud with an: “okay I’m coming” and bringing out his sword.

“Listen Tommy I heard what he was saying to you man and you don’t seriously believe that do you?” (keeping the question very open so that Tommy can interject his own doubts. Also Quackity technically didn’t lie once to Tommy and, while there was a bit of deflection on his part so far he hasn’t been all that manipulative if I’m being honest)

Wilbur proceeds to tell Tommy that if he stays with Quackity he’ll be nothing more then a caterer (strongly implying that that’s not something he wants) and Tommy chimes in saying that that’s not for him.

“Listen Tommy I’m not gonna stop you but, I’ll be honest with you man, you’re all I’ve got” (set up for the guilt tripping later as well as once again putting himself in the position of the victim so that Tommy won’t leave him. Also he denies that Jack and Phil count as well because the first is too busy and he doesn’t agree with the political views of the latter)

“I wanna make a place where we can be safe for once. Tommy it’s been so long since we felt safe and man you deserve it. You’ve been through so much, you’ve done so much, Tommy you’ve changed the world! And all you’ve got to show for it is some scars and some trauma. Tommy you deserve this safety and this sanctuary and that’s why I wanna make it with you and you won’t get it over there”

Now this should sound familiar to quite a few people, mostly because it’s pretty similar to the tactic that Quackity himself uses. First identify the victim’s vulnerabilities and their desires (Tommy only wants 2 things and only one is connected to physical places so safety it is). Second relate to the victims experiences repeating that they do deserve to get what they so desperately want (check back Quackity’s conversation with Fundy if you want to see that done really well). And lastly emphasise that you’re the only one who can give them what they want.

“You know what has substance Tommy? Family. Blood” (what sparked back the canon sbi discourse)

“I haven’t- I don’t wanna make my mind now ‘cause it’s- it feels like-” “Tommy you need to make your mind now” (putting a ton of pressure onto Tommy, enough that Tommy is reminded of his time in prison)

“Tommy I love a challenge” (considering the context and the fact that this is in response to Tommy hesitating on who to join this is most definitely about him. Wilbur definitely still considers this, at least partially, part of his and Quackity’s game)

“If you pick Las Nevadas what am I gonna do? Man, what am I gonna do? I’d never hurt you. I’d never want anything bad for you Tommy” (mixing in a bit of guilt tripping with a bit of lies. Now, it’s probably not a lie that he wouldn’t want something bad for Tommy, but the thing about never hurting him? I mean, this stream is a proof of the cotrary)

“You can go with whatever you want, but just know what you’d do to me” (once again painting himself as the victim while guilt tripping Tommy)

“I put a lot of things to the side that I shouldn’t of. I prioritized the wrong things, I put revenge over humanity. I guess all I’m seeking right now is someone who’ll be honest with me and a place where I can feel safe”

Here it is, we got Tommy’s desire spelled out by him. This is what makes him so vulnerable to Wilbur’s manipulation, the fact that Wilbur knows how to pretend that he can offer this. Also the first part of this is another recognition of how unhealthy his mindset was while he was with Technoblade, which makes him saying that he betrayed Techno and feels guilty about that afterwards even more sad because he recognizes that being with Techno was not good for him but still bashes himself over leaving him even if he really didn’t have any other choice if he wanted to stay true to himself. It’s quite tragic and it’s once more a show of his self-loathing. 

“This can be a safe place for them [Techno and Tubbo]” (Wilbur is using the informations Tommy provided him in a moment of open vulnerability to manipulate him further)

Tommy then agrees to stay with Wilbur though he seems far from enthusiastic about it. He seems to believe Wilbur when he says he's gonna make a safe space for him and the people he cares about, but also seems hesitant to fully trust him.

“Big Q is gonna wish he never fucked with me” (still in regard to challenging Wilbur’s perceived ownership of Tommy)

The stream is far from over though. After that conversation between Wilbur and Tommy they start to build a stone penis over the lake and Wilbur and Quackity get in a very heated argument that leaves Tommy incredibly uncomfortable. The whole conversation consists in Wilbur and Quackity shouting at each other about things the other has done to Tommy (all traumatic for him) while Tommy makes himself smaller and shuts down. First Qauckity accuses Wilbur of emotionally manipulating Tommy (which is true), then Wilbur accuses Quackity of using the hotel against Tommy (which wasn’t actually true) and they keep going like that. 

“The one thing [the hotel] Tommy’s tried to do was a failure” (way to undermine achievements like putting Dream behind bars there... however to be exact this is a manipulation tactic known as “shaming” which consists in undermining the victim’s worth to foster feelings of inadequacy which makes them more vulnerable. It’s a tactic Wilbur has used quite often since Pogtopia)

“Great job Wilbur of doing to Tomminnit what you’ve done your entire fucking life” (Quackity does sound actually upset) 

“Don’t try to compare me to you Wilbur, me and you are not the same” (this does align to Quackity’s desire to not live in other people shadows any longer)

“Hey hey hey hey, don’t come near Tommy, don’t come near Tommy” “Will, Will, hey hey, let me speak! This is about me so let me speak! I don’t know I-” “I just don’t want him to hurt you. I just don’t want him to hurt you” “I can fend for myself. You weren’t here for a long time. I thought, I thought you [Wilbur] were gonna make me feel a little bit safer, let me tell you now either of you-” “Fellas fellas” “No shut the fuck up! I didn’t feel- that didn’t make me feel- that was weird, I didn’t- don’t do that either of you” 

Now this is both Wilbur once again babying Tommy and treating him as if he’s not capable of taking care of himself (it could be done out of sincere care, but that doesn’t make it any less patronizing) and Tommy actually standing up for himself. Tommy made himself as little as possible during their confrontation and didn’t utter a word and now he finally got a bit of confidence back to say that he didn’t like that and both of them still tried to interrupt him. And Wilbur immediately went to say that he won’t do it again, but Quackity will as if he didn’t listen to a word Tommy just said. That said after that Quackity does apologize to Tommy specifically (though how sincere that was is debatable and Wilbur also accepts the apology as well even if it wasn’t directed at him) and invites the both of them to have a tour of Las Nevadas. Tommy wanted to refuse the tour because he was already visibly overwhelmed, but Wilbur ignores him and proceeds to accept anyway. 

“Quackity I wanna say from here on, as much as we may have our disagreements here man I- we gotta leave Tommy out of this” (they don’t)

“Tommy I’ll take it back, I’m fine with you working here and still being, you know, as long as you still hang out with me and don’t leave me on my own I have no problems with you working here man” (except they both already put an incredible amount of pressure on him and Will in partucular already made him feel guilty for even considering sort of leaving him)

“At the end of the day it’s okay Tommy, you make your own decisions, but let me keep showing you around the TommyInnit res- uh, I mean the restourant” (very sneaky there Quackity. Naming things creates attachment btw) 

Btw, Quackity and Wilbur are still very tense, but they both put their differences aside in a split second to get Tommy away from the strip club, which honestly is just funny. Also once again Wilbur goes before Tommy inside the casino in case it’s dangerous.

They then gamble for a bit and Tommy bets Linda away and looses it. They then go up in the white tower. 

“This would be such a good point to just jump off and just end it. Woah” “no no no Tommy get down!” “Tommy get down from the rail” (casual reminder that Tommy is still extremely suicidal, though at least this time there was someone there to get him down)

Quackity and Wilbur have a small conversation while Tommy is still checking out the view which mostly consist in Quackity trying to find out more about the Revival Book (while feigning complete ignorance about it). 

Meanwhile while dissociating Tommy puts down some water to the side of the tower and then jumps in it while taking it away (therefore technically jumipng off, but not dying because his fall was slowed down). Quackity notices and immediately panics, while Wilbur places some water down for him so he can get back up. 

“Tommy come here, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you” (both helping and emphasizing his wish for Tommy to depend on him as much as he does on Tommy)

After that they talk for a while and Quackity brings up the conversation that he had with Wilbur which is the moment Wilbur realizes that the “You were right” in the book was referring to the pre-Pogtopia him. Also Wilbur talks about the things he’s lost (years of his life and people are the two things he mentioned). 

“There’s lots of people I wish I could see. Like I wish I could just tell them ‘I’m alive’ and apologize and also thank them” (I do think he’s sincere, but it does make me a bit sad that Tommy was not in the list of people who deserved an apology in Wilbur’s mind)

After that Quackity seems to take an interest in Wilbur’s plans specifically, but, before he can investigate further, Tommy gives him his own answer and declines his offer of manning the restaurant saying that that life is not for him, it’s too relaxed (Wilbur's reaction to it is also worth notice). 

“I don’t wanna run a food stand. Wilbur gets things done” (sorry to Tommy here, but, genuinely, when’s the last time Wilbur got something done without Dream’s or Tommy’s help?)

After this they get back on the topic of the Revive Book and Wilbur reveals that Dream is the one who brought him back. He also admits that he wants to thank Dream for saving him and describes him as his “hero” again. Quackity himself reveals that he has been visiting Dream.

“Oh who cares about Ghostbur?” “Don’t fucking say- don’t- he killed Ghostbur” (once again Tommy should not be here for this conversation considering how triggering the subject is for him)

“I can’t believe- you’re like a misinformed parent, you’re just wrong” (Tommy both pointing out that Wilbur is wrong and admitting that that’s due to a lack of information)

“The prison is not just this thing, this dandelion. No no no, the prison-” “How are you back then Tommy? If you died” “Dream killed me to prove a point. That he- (continues under) he’s omnipotent, he’s got this God complex” “Quackity I need to get in there”

Once again not letting Tommy speak even if Wilbur himself asked the question, though this time it may be because if he listened to Tommy’s story and his experience with Dream he would realize that there are some incongruences between the version of Dream he created in his mind and the real Dream. Between his hero and Tommy’s abuser who beat him to death to prove a point. This split in his mind in how he views Dream was already evident in the last stream with him fip flopping between wanting him dead or not. 

“Tommy, Tommy, I’m not gonna talk shit about them [Sam] without their presence here alright?” (Quackity being protective of his own business patners)

Also Tommy manages to deduce on his own what Quackity has been doing to Dream, though he gets to the conclusion with the wrong clues. Either way after finding out how to visit the prison Wilbur leaves in a hurry telling Tommy to go with him as well.

“I’m a big boy Tommy, I’m a big boy, I’ll be fine” “Wilbur I’m a big man, but I was not fine” (Tommy tries to explain Dream’s danger to Wilbur by making himself vulnerable again, but it doesn’t work as Wilbur doesn’t listen)

Afterwards Wilbur tells Tommy that he is going to the prison and ignores any of Tommy’s concerns on the matter.

“Tommy listen, I didn’t wanna spring things on you because I’m really trying not to be a shit person to you Tommy, right? I’m really really trying. And it’s easy, it’s easy not to be a shit person to you, right? Because we got people like Quackity over there who are just- you know he said it best I’m not gonna talk shit about him behind his back"

If he’s not trying to be a sh*t person to Tommy he is failing miserably. Truly this whole stream he either ignored him, talked over him, talked about incredibly triggering stuff in front of him or tried manipulating him. This was all their interactions summarized. Pettiness aside though, he still badmouths Quackity by handing Tommy the book and telling him that Quackity agreed with the “old Wilbur” (not specifying that he is referring to pre-Pogtopia Wilbur and that he himself still agrees with the “old him”) to villainize him. He also acts like Tommy is being unreasonable for not wanting him to go, despite having died there and having seen Ghostbur die there. Wilbur does say that he won’t go if Tommy really doesn’t want him to, but he leaves telling him they’ll talk about it again right after Tommy tells him this: 

“I don’t think you should do that, he’s more powerful then you think you are”

Left on his own Tommy reminisces of when he went to the prison looking for closure as well. He then borrows an ender chest from Quackity for his and Wilbur’s little stone shack and then goes to the middle of the lake to listen to cat. 

[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 💜

[hamliet]

happy july kate 💖 hope you're doing well. as a long time lurker of your blog, you and your work has slowly highlighted my need to create and work on my creativity, especially when it comes to things i loved to do before such as drawing and writing. ngl it's been hard because ive been comparing myself to other artists and writers. for example i saw someone write this beautiful dragon-pheonix reincarnation fic for their ship. the plot, prose and the way everything intertwined was beautiful (1/?)

(2/?) but i look at myself and can barely muster up the courage to write vecause how could i when there's already people who write and draw that well. a lot of my perfectionism comes from past abuse but the way it's manifesting here is such a pain. therapy has helped in healing but god, im so scared to start. have you ever caught yourself in a similar dilemma?

(3/?) another thing i wanted to ask about is how do you approach incorporating other people's analysis and stuff into your own work? obviously give credit where it's due but im always wondering whether it's worth it to be reiterating the same stuff when someone has already done a comprehensive job of it. i guess an example could be lore related to some kind of show or game.

(4/?) last question but do you ever catch yourself justifying your ship? there's like 50 different reasons you can ship characters,,,, maybe I spend too much on twitter but I feel like I have to justify a lot or at least there's an expectation to do that. it makes it harder for me to enjoy other ships (even the ones i dont care for) because now im expecting others to justify for all the same reasons. perhaps i need a fandom break or need to set better boundaries

lmaosorry for the word vomit in your ask box. it's been bugging me a lot and i didn't know who else to ask this since my friends don't really participate in fandom spaces 😶😶 hope this isn't too much of a bother but thank you for even entertaining my chaotic rambling. have a great weekend 💝

Hi Lurker! Oh, I can relate for sure. I think most writers/artists can.

I'm not sure my advice will be anything you haven't already heard, but I can tell you that by living it I know it's true: write it/draw it anyways. Imperfect, sure. Nothing is perfect, and art is subjective. There are so many needs, and no artpiece can satisfy every soul on this planet.

Do it anyways. Even if it's not perfect. You'll get better and better without even realizing it. You'll have moments where you're like I'M REGRESSING *cries* and then someone will tell you this was their favorite thing ever. Art isn't a static thing you just create and leave alone; it's more like an interactive thing, a living thing even at the risk of sounding super fucking cheesy--because it impacts people in different ways, ways we can't predict when creating it. And the act of creating it will impact you, too.

As for the analysis part, give credit and write it on your own. You learn by writing--sometimes it's fun and you'll realize oh hey, I just uncovered something new as I was writing that I hadn't even thought of!

As for justifying, sometimes? And sometimes not. Less so the older I get, lol, and I don't think it's a great thing ever to feel like you have to morally justify everything from each and every potential dislike. Just accept that other people have different tastes, limits, and preferences--which of course is way easier said than done! Give yourself grace and allow yourself to rant from time to time (privately). Art does affect our emotions, and it's good to express those (just not good to be an asshat about it or judge people for it, but expressing "I don't like this opinion" privately to a friend isn't that).

Twitter is the worst for that, though. Everyone's jockeying to be the Most Moral and Change the World Through Yelling At Others You Don't Even Know on there, and I hate it so much. Even as I, y'know, go on pretty much every day and therefore have no right to complain. I do this to myself. Sue me. I'm human too and def a hypocrite for participating in the Bird Site Madness but oh well.

Wow, that's a tangent. Anyways. We're all just doing the best we can, Lurker. Even if you can't quite bring yourself to start art yet, or to stop comparing, give yourself some grace for that. It doesn't make you a loser and it doesn't mean you never will start. All of us have those moments--moments that seem way longer than they should, I'm afraid.

But you know you want to make something. That's good. You deserve to have your voice heard, to follow what you want. The abilities you want to cultivate deserve time and space to grow. You deserve to make imperfect art because you deserve to be here, because you're alive and life is growing and all people should have their voices heard. <3

[chan-skz]

Going back the way we've come

Pairing : Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

Summary: You didn't want to go, but forced by your parents, you gave in. Your relationship with Hyunjin hadn't started very well, after reuniting years later, you realized that a lot of things had changed. but for some reason, you couldn't push him away.

Words: ~ 7.5k

Genre: Fluff, smut (around the end), slight angst

Warning(s): Making out, Oral (f receiving), Fingering, Kinda raw language, Semi-public, Light choking, Light overstimulation, Teasing under table

Note: This is part of the christmas collab I'm doing w/ @hanflix and many other writers. I tried my best to give it a holiday vibe, but I guess I totally failed hahah.

A/N: This is the longest fic I've ever written for now, and I also tried my best in writing it, so I really hope you'll enjoy it! English isn't my first language, so I'm really sorry if there's any mistakes or non-senses.

Your fingers tightened around the collar of your coat, the cold breeze gently hitting your face. You cursed yourself for not having listened to your mother when she insisted for you to take a scarf, arguing that it would be colder than usual.

"Fuck winter." You said when you got back under the shelter of the bus stop, collapsing on the bench next to your bestfriend, where he was sitting.

"Hi to you too, Y/n." Jisung laughed.

"Sorry, really not in a good mood." You said, glancing around, noticing that besides you, there were few other people waiting for the bus.

"Do you want to talk about it though?" He continued.

"Well." You began, sitting correctly on the seat and turning to him, announcing your long speech in advance. He knew you by heart. "I argued with my mom about a stupid decision she and my dad made. They want me to spend Christmas Eve with them and some old friends of theirs! Do you realize that? I don't even know them! She told me they had a son of my age and that I was bestfriend with him when I was younger, as that would some how change my mind. Christmas is supposed to be between families, not strangers."

"Are you done?" He asked when he saw you cross your arms against your chest and sigh even more on the bench. He was really trying to keep from laughing at your despondency. "It's not funny Sungie! I'm really serious!" You complained. "How did I found myself having to spend almost a boring evening with complete strangers?"

"You could come and spend it with me if you really don't want to spend it with your parents' friends." He suggested.

"Are you serious?" You asked, suddenly straightening up, hope shining in your eyes.

"Will your parents accept, though?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No." Your mother firmly refused.

"But why!" You whined through the phone, kicking your foot at the pile of snow in front of you, in frustration

"Because Christmas should be celebrated with the family, honey."

"Family.. We don't even pass it between real family." You whispered to yourself, rolling your eyes, before setting your gaze on your best friend who was still waiting for you at the entrance of the high school.

"It's not the same thing!" She exclaimed loudly through the phone, forcing you to move your phone away from your ear. "Do you really want to stay with them on Christmas Eve anyway?"

"But Jisung offered it to me! He even told me that his parents wouldn't even mind!" You exclaimed in your turn. "You yourself know how much they love me!" You added in hope that it will change her mind.

"It's still no, the discussion is closed." She concluded, before hanging up on you. You sighed in frustration, kicking one last on the snow pile before turning back to your best friend. You weren't in the mood it was clear.

"So?" Jisung asked as you approached him.

"She said no." You answered, walking past him to enter the school. "But don't worry, I'm going to keep pushing when I get home, she says the discussion is over, but I'll keep pushing the subject."

"You really don't want to spend it with their friends, do you?" Jisung chuckled when he saw how persistent you were.

"As they say, perseverance always pays off." You gave him a smile, letting him know you weren't going to drop the case that easily.

"Yeah, but I don't think that's gonna work." Before you could answer, a group of girls down the hall caught your eye. You glanced at each other in disbelief as you approached your group of friends.

"What's going on over there." You asked curiously, as you opened your locker to deposit your things in.

"Ah, just a new student." Jeongin just shrugged, not looking away from his phone, too focused on his game.

"Damn, he's this special to create so much enthusiasm." You continued, taking your books in your arms before closing your locker and leaning against it.

"I heard he was handsome, rich, tall. The pure cliché you know." Changbin added, earning amused looks from all of you. "What? I only rehearsed what I heard, I didn't even saw the guy yet."

"My only question is who would get transfered to a new school a day before winter break? It's so unlikely." You were curious to know who this new kid was, since he already had girls at his feet when it's barely been a day since he arrived.

"I really don't know." Changbin shrugged. "But I also heard he was from your hometown. You must know him."

"No luck, I don't even remember a lot of things from back there." You were still a little surprised that he also came from your hometown, but despite all that, it didn't change your opinion of him.

"Merry Christmas!" Felix came out of nowhere, dressing ridiculously in rudolph. Totally his type. You couldn't help but burst out laughing at his outfit. The day before, you all had agreed to dress in a holiday theme, but it was clear that someone surely hadn't understood the real concept.

"What the fuck, Lix." Jeongin said, finally turning his attention away from his game to judge his friend. "When I suggested yesterday that we could dress like it was Christmas, I didn't actually mean to dress up like this."

You kinda felt bad for Felix as he looked disappointed at the judgment of the youngest.

"Rah, you are so boring." Felix said, crossing his arms over his chest before pretending to sulk.

"Okay, pass me your red nose." You added, rolling your eyes as Felix's face lit up.

"It's good now?" You asked rhetorically, placing the red ball on yours.

"Looks like a real clown now. Your makeup wasn't enough, but with that nose you really look like one now." Jisung said amused, making the whole gang laugh, except you obviously.

"I swear to you that one day I'll kill you." You threatened him, hitting his forearm causing him to whine in pain.

"Ow- damn you hit real hard-"

"Y/n? Y/n Y/l/n?" A familiar voice called you out, making everyone turn around. You then suddenly found yourself facing a guy that neither of you knew. You surely assumed to be the new student.

"Excuse me, do I know you?" You had to admit that the fact that this tall guy knew your name freaked you out.

"Don't you recognize me? Hyunjin. We went to the same elementary school." The so-called Hyunjin indicated, making you frown at his words. But your brain still didn't seem to recognize him despite how hard you tried to remember who it could be.

"I'm so sorry, but you must be wrong on the person. I really don't know you." This time you raised an eyebrow and looked him over from head to toe. You couldn't deny that he was handsome, even though you didn't know him.

"He's from your hometown, there's a chance he's right." Chris pointed, once the guy had left. You sigh in exasperation. "I don't remember him anyway. So whether he's right or not, it doesn't really matter."

You threw yourself on your bed, almost screaming into your pillow in frustration. Again, you tried to convince your parents, but it was a complete failure like this morning. They were really determined that you go with them, even though you had made it clear to them that you didn't want to. You spent long minutes looking at your reflection through the mirror in your bathroom. Did you have to wear a dress and full makeup to go to a stupid Christmas dinner? Obviously, it was your mother who forced you.

The red dress she chose for you was quite tight and followed every curve of your body. But it was either that or nothing, since you would've been allowed to wear something more comfortable. Everything had to be perfect, you rolled your eyes recalling the words of your mother, and also of your father. You didn't understand either why you had agreed to wear high heels, your feet were hurting horribly and the freezing winter cold really didn't help your situation. It was snowing and you were forced to wear these heels anyway, that's how your parents exaggerated. Luckily, there was no ice, otherwise you would've tripped and humiliated yourself in the middle of the entrance. You were torn from your thoughts when the front door opened, and revealing a quite beautiful lady about your mother's age.

"Y/m/n!" The lady exclaimed with a big smile, softly giggling as your mother returned the same energy to her. She wasted no time to make you get in and hugging your mom and shaking your father's hand. Once you got in her facial expression only lit up even more.

"Y/n! Woah, you've grown so much!" She indicated by taking you in your arms too. "You've become so beautiful, I'm sure Hyunjin would agree." She said with a slight smirk. Hearing his name made you choke on your own saliva. You tensed, but managed to fake a smile, even though you were praying inside that you had misheard. Unfortunately for you, all your doubts were confirmed when you walked into the living room and found yourself face to face with Hyunjin.

"Damnit.." You cursed under your breath, when you came to sit on the couch in front of his and according to the face he expressed, he seemed to have heard you. Lucky for you, none of the other adults next to you seemed to have heard it. You could feel his intense gaze on you, and it lowkey made you anxious.

"Dinner's not ready yet, because we got too caught up at the last minute, so sorry." Hyunjin's mother laughed lightly. "I know the kids won't want to wait here all along, so maybe they could go do something else until it's ready."

If you could think that the night couldn't get any worse, you were completely wrong.

"Stop following me." Hyunjin suddenly turned as he walked up the stairs. Making you roll your eyes.

"I 'follow' you, because I have nowhere else to go and I would rather stay with you than stay with them for a second. Their 'good old days' really don't interest me." You crossed your arms against your chest, defying him with your gaze.

"Whatever." He rolled his eyes, before turning around. His room was quite large, almost double yours. You made sure to sit in the opposite side of the room. You then found yourself sitting on the sofa while he was lying on his bed, both phones in hand. Your phones keep you busy, making you forget the awkward tension.

"How could you not recognize me?" Hyunjin suddenly asked, distracting you from the video you were watching.

"Do I really have to?" You looked away from your phone to focus on Hyunjin, who was now sitting on the edge of the bed and facing you.

"Did I change that much?" He said, letting out an exasperated sigh.

"We knew each other when we were kids, now we are adults, what do you expect? I can't recognize everyone I was friends with in my childhood at one glance." You said in a mocking voice. "I don't even understand why you keep pushing so hard for me to remember you, but if you really want to, just show me what you looked like when you were a baby. It would surely refresh my memory."

You didn't expect that he would actually do it. But your eyes widened when you saw the little boy in the picture. You recognized him right there. Your heart pounded at the realization, but you tried to pull yourself together. It was stupid to react so exaggeratedly just because you realized you were facing your childhood best friend, your first love. Finally you didn't really know if when you were young you really loved him, because after all, you were still kids, the meaning of love wasn't real known, nor understood.

"Stop Hyunjin, you're hurting him!" You yelled at him to let go of your friend's sweater, Chris.

"No! How dare he touch you! Only I have the right to give you a hug!" Hyunjin frowned, looking at you before quickly looking back at your friend, who just let it go, finding his jealousy quite ridiculous.

"But I was the one who gave him a hug." You started, finding his possessiveness frustrating.

You couldn't help but have a small smile forming at the corner of your lips at the flashback of this event. And you couldn't control your teasing.

"So how's your jealousy? Are you still so possessive of a temper?" You said amused, expecting him to becomes slightly shy and sulky as you pointed out his toxic trait, but what you didn't expect was for him to smile and look down on you.

"Oh, why do you want to know that? Unless you want me to show you what true possessiveness is." He smirked, looking you up and down. Your own smile faded as he watched you closely, making you feel oddly exposed to him in that tight, cropped dress.

"What do you mean?" You pulled yourself together again and asked, raisong an eyebrow.

"Well, I wouldn't have thought you would've had so many guy friends." His comment frustrated you for some reasons. After years apart, as soon as you meet again does he really have to get jealous over the fact that you have a lot of opposite sex friends? You really didn't like it.

"Does it even matter anyway?" You asked insistently. At your reaction, Hyunjin's expression changed, becoming more nonchalant again.

"Nevermind." He got up from the sofa he was leaning on and went to lie back on his bed. You took advantage of him not looking at you to detail him. You couldn't deny that puberty had blessed him, making him not only beautiful, but also extremely attractive. His hair, which he had dyed blond, was slightly messy, but enough to make it look quite classy.

"Do you like staring at me?" He asked rhetorically, but as you were about to deny, he continued. "No need to deny it, the trickle of drool at the corner of your mouth is proof of that."

Seeing your panicking face, he laughed out loud. Quickly running your hand over the corner of your mouth, you finally realized that he was only messing with you from the start. As you opened your mouth to clap back at him, you heard your mother's voice calling you from downstairs, informing both of you that the dinner was ready. Hyunjin didn't miss the glare you gave him as you sat face to face at the dining table. He could've simply ignored it, but the little smirk that appeared on your lips worried him slightly. He had a bad feeling.

Your parents were talking and laughing with each other, paying almost no attention to you two, which gave you the best opportunity to tease Hyunjin. For his part, he was frustered when he felt something caress his leg. Looking down he saw your foot caressing his leg, he wasted no time pushing you away, finding the whole thing quite inappropriate as you found yourself at the table with both of your parents. But you didn't give up, in fact you were determined to make him restless. You restarted your gesture, but this time, taking advantage of his man spread, you deflected your touching on his crotch. You knew he was going to lose his temper at this action and your doubts were confirmed when he jumped at the feeling of your heel pressing against his crotch.

"Hyunjin, are you okay?" His mother asked, slightly worried. You could see a pinkish tinge forming on Hyunjin's cheeks and you had to admit he was so cute like that.

"And yes, y-yes. It's okay, I just banged my knee against the table, sorry." He managed to convince the others. After all, he wasn't going to openly say that you were touching his dick under the table. Stop that, he mimicked, his gaze changing dramatically to become more firmer, but it only made you keep going, finding his reaction funny and extremely entertaining. Suddenly he got up from the table, apologizing to your parents and pretending he wasn't hungry, so he could get away from that family dinner. Not wanting to be alone with them, you did the same, sighing in relief when you in turn managed to sneak out of that Christmas dinner. Except you weren't expecting to be tackled by a pretty angry Hyunjin from the moment you stepped into his room. You then found yourself stuck between him and the wall, his arms placed on each side of your body, blocking you from escaping from his grip. Besides his tall figure, which made him quite intimidating, didn't help your case.

"If you were so desperate for my cock, you should've told me." He said in a dangerously calm voice.

"What are you talking about?" You manage to say, completely confused.

"Oh don't be innocent. You really think this is a game, don't you? Do you think teasing my cock around our parents is fun?" You bit your lip and your eyes widened when he grabbed your hand and put it on his bulge for you to feel it, which was quite hard.

"You feel it? Now I'm fucking hard." He said in a long sigh of pleasure, feeling your fingers trace his length. He then leaned against your ear, his hot breath giving you chills.

"From the moment I met you again, I knew straight away that I didn't want to just be friends with you." You still couldn't quite assimilate the situation you currently found yourself in and it was only when he leaned against your ear to whisper those words to you with his deep voice that you finally broke out of your thoughts. Suddenly you pushed him away, forcing him to pull away from you and step back. He looked at you completely lost, not understanding your sudden action and to tell the truth, you didn't understand what had taken you neither. You couldn't deny that this whole situation had made you slightly aroused, but it was too soon. No sooner had you met again than you already found yourself doing dirty things? It was going a little too fast for your liking.

"That-that won't work, I'm so sorry." You avoided his gaze in embarrassment. After a few moments of silence, you finally returned your gaze to Hyunjin, who was now looking at you completely detached. And to be honest, his expression hurted you, but you tried to hide it. You knew you ruined your evening, that's why you decided to end up speanding it with your parents. It was quite boring, but at least it allowed you to escape the discomfort that would've been present between you and Hyunjin, if you stayed with him.

"And? What did you do?" Jisung asked excitedly. A few days later, you had wasted no time summoning Jisung, your best friend, to tell him what had happened to you. But no sooner had the story started than he was already feeling excited, obviously expecting you and Hyunjin to have done it.

"I pushed him away." You simply said, looking as if you didn't care about it. Even though a few days later, you were still mentally slapping yourself for pushing him away so coldly. While deep down, you wished things had turned out differently.

"What did you do?" Jisung repeated slowly, his excitement fading.

"I pushed him away and even told him that it wouldn't work between us." You closed your eyes, anticipating his reaction.

"Oh my god, I have never known a girl so stupid." Jisung said in exasperation. "You literally had the chance before you and you didn't even take it."

"I know!" You pouted. "It's just that I realized this when it was too late. I was in the living room with my parents, you really expected me to go back to his room and take back everything that I said and did to him?"

You concluded ironically before crossing your arms against your chest and sighing in exasperation.

"Well that was an option that you unfortunately didn't take and which could've prevented from finding yourself in this situation." He dramaticallyraised his hot chocolate cup to face, making you roll your eyes.

"I'm seriously starting to regret telling you this story and even offering to go out. You really aren't helping me."

"It's too hard not to judge you when you literally make so many stupid decisions, sorry." He said, chuckling at your annoyed reaction. "Ah, by the way, I almost forgot to mention it, but Changbin is throwing a new year party tomorrow and he told me to force you to come."

At the mention of a party, you whined. You didn't like parties, you preferred to stay at home, doing nothing, rather than partying among people you didn't know.

"Tell him back that despite you forcing me, I'm not coming." You said directly.

"Please, for once come on. And it'll help you to forget about your night with Hyunjin." Jisung begged you. It was very rare that you attended parties organized by your friends, one because you didn't like the vibe, but you also didn't understand the usefulness of getting high and drunk. But coming to think of it, not only did you want to forget the shit you had caused, but you also felt like getting wasted.

"Fine."

You scrambled through the room, the wave of dancing people glued to each other began to make you sick. Your glass in hand, you passed through all these people, until you finally got off the dance floor. You shiver slightly when you feel the light cold breeze brush your exposed legs. You were already regretting having put on such a short dress. It wasn't really ideal to go out so exposed, but it was the only evening dress you had.

"Looks like you're bored." Felix's deep voice surprised you, making you jump.

"Oh my god!" You exclaimed in surprise. almost dropping your drink. "You scared me."

You hit his forearm, making him laugh out loud.

"No, but seriously you look really bored." He said, calming down. You just nodded, it was true that you were slowly starting to regret coming. Your dress that bothered you, the alcohol that took too long to hit you, and the cold freezing were all the reason of it.

"Do you want to come with me play truth or dare? Changbin and the other boys were organizing it." He proposed to you, not failing to see you looking with disgust at the gathering of people completely wasted and grinding on each other. You accepted, telling yourself that it might change your mind. You didn't know this kind of game was still being played at parties, but you were curious enough what kind of dares and truths other players will throw themselves into. Obviously, you should've expected to see Hyunjin as soon as you set a foot in the room, which seemed to be Changbin's room, accompanied by Felix. Other than this one, Hyunjin and even Changbin, you didn't really know the other participants, but even then you cursed yourself for not thinking for a second that Hyunjin might be there too. You blushed slightly when you noticed him contemplating your body shamelessly. You thanked the lord for making the room a little dark, only a lamp on the floor on the floor litening the room.

"Y/n!" Changbin exclaimed with joy when he saw you, glad you came. Coming to hug you, only to ruffle your hair.

"Stop." You giggled. "You ruined my hairstyle." You pouted.

"Ohh, it's okay, you're beautiful the way you are." He said, making you blush. Changbin treated you like his little sister, his way to make you comfortable no matter the situation would always surprise you. Your interaction didn't go out of Hyunjin's attention. From the corner of the room he watched you silently, paying no attention to the girl beside him who was desperately seeking his attention.

"Are we starting or not?" Felix complained loudly, drawing attention to himself.

"We're just waiting for Jisung and Jeongin." No sooner had Changbin finished his sentence than your two friends entered the room, their arms laden with drinks.

"To spice up the game!" Jisung exclaimed as he placed the bottles on the ground, beside the circle you had formed. You had hesitated for a moment to sit down, your short dress really bothering you, obviously you didn't want others to have an easy view of your panties. You were then offered by Changbin his jacket to cover your lap, clearly having noticed your struggle.

"Thank you." You smiled at him, before kneeling on the floor and covering your legs with his jacket.

"Ok, we all know the game rules, right? But this time, if you don't want to answer the truth or don't want to do a dare, you're going to have to take two shots of vodka." Jeongin vaguely explained. "Okay, I'm starting."

He leaned over to spin the bottle, stopping in front of Changbin.

"Truth or dare." Jeongin asked with a smirk at the corner of his lips. It was in those moments that his inner devil was coming out.

"Truth." Changbin said. "I don't trust you enough to pick dare when it comes to you." He added suspiciously.

"What's your body count?" Jeongin asked, ignoring his friend's comment.

"Do I need to have slept with them?" He asked, waiting for the clarification of the younger. He took time to think.

"Then I think around 15, if not even more." He nodded. Hearing this number, you almost choked.

"15?! What the hell?!" You turned to Changbin, your eyes widening. "You better spill the tea, mr.Don Juan."

The game went on, you had to admit it was pretty funny seeing some people taking two shots of vodka and gradually get drunk just because they didn't want to do something, or even see some people do of ​​stupid things. Well, until Hyunjin's turn came and he had the misfortune of being told what to do by Jisung.

"Truth or dare, Hyunjin." He asked him with a smile, which the world that didn't know him might consider innocent, but knowing him very well, you knew he was up to no good.

"I guess, dare?" He answered.

"I dare you to make out for a minute with the girl you find the most attractive in the room." As soon as Jisung's words came out of his mouth, his turned gaze to you. You rolled your eyes when you had eye contact with your best friend. Seeing how the girl, who was sitting next to Hyunjin, looked quite pretty and looked so interested in him, you expected him to turn to kiss her. But you were a little taken aback, when he got up to approach you to kneel down in front of you, ignoring the complaints of the girl you think was one of his fangirls at school.

"Wait what?" Your eyes widened, completely lost. Your heart quickly started race up as you saw him lean towards you.

"Can I kiss you?" He asked quietly. You really didn't know what to add, you were literally wordless. Subconsciously, you started to nod your head gently, giving him your consent. When your lips touched, it was as if no one existed around you. The exclamations of surprise that other people around you were expressing went over your head.

Hyunjin's lips were soft, the kiss you exchanged was initially passionate, but the longer the seconds passed the hotter it got. Without thinking too much, you wrapped your arms around the older man's neck, pulling him closer to you, as he grabbed your hips. Too absorbed in each other, you hadn't noticed that the minute had already passed and it was only when Jisung called you out that you finally came out of your reverie, instantly detaching yourself from Hyunjin.

You blushed slightly when you felt a light trickle of drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, you pressed to wipe it off quickly with the back of your hand. Hyunjin, for his part, just licked his lips, giving you a smirk, knowing that this action would destabilize you even more. Clearing your throat afterwards, you for sure wanted to divert the attention others had on you, while Hyunjin, sat down next to you with a big smile on his face, not caring that all the attention was on you. After all he had finally kissed you, which he had wanted to do since the dinner with your parents, so nothing else mattered. Your thoughts wandered elsewhere as the game continued its course. You couldn't think of anything other than Hyunjin's lips on yours, his kiss had made you lose your head. Your mind was engulfed in unhealthy thoughts and it didn't take you long before you felt yourself being drowned by your own mind.

"I-I think I'm going to go." You huffed, feeling a pleasant, but quite uncomfortable heat growing between your legs. You were clearly starting to feel bad. You didn't give Changbin or Hyunjin time to speak as you got up and quickly left the room. The loud sound of the music playing backwards was much more audible once in the hallway, it's precisely at this moment that you could gradually feel the influence of alcohol washing you off. Luckily for you, you found the bathroom easily.

"Y/n?" You heard Hyunjin calling you, but you didn't pay him any attention to him when he hesitantly walked in. You were propped up against the bathroom counter, staring at your reflection through the mirror, it was easily recognizable that you were not feeling well. Your cheeks were red, your breath quickened and your eyes slightly narrowed.

"Are you okay?" He asked worriedly, approaching you, but he resigned himself when he saw you stepping back when he tried to come closer.

"Stop playing with me." You finally said, turning to face him. You couldn't help but slightly laugh bitterly when he looked at you in confusion, obviously not understanding the meaning of your words.

"Seriously Hyunjin, what do you want from me." You rolled your eyes, "You tell me straight up that you want more than just a friendship with me, when it had only been one evening that we met again. Things have changed Hyunjin, I've changed, you've changed. We're not the same as when we were still children." He was silent for a moment, looking deep in his thoughts, before he resigned himself to saying something.

"I understand that we are no longer children. And from the moment I saw you again I understood it very well. You must think I'm talking nonsense, but just seeing you and talking to you again last time, I don't know why, i had the same feelings i had when we were young."

He stopped talking to approach you slowly, making sure first that you weren't going to distance yourself from him.

"I'm very serious. I'm really not trying to play with your feelings, nor you in general." His gaze reflected a slight sadness. He was genuinely afraid of being rejected by you, even after his speech.

"How could I believe you?" You asked, hesitantly whether you should take him seriously or not.

"If you give me a chance, I swear I could prove it to you." You felt butterflies in your stomach at his words. You opened your mouth to say something, but closed it immediately, you really didn't know what to say. And he looked pretty determined.

"I hope you're not going to make me regret it then." You manage to say. At your answer, his face lit up. He was anxious that you would reject him, that you would tell him that his 'confession' was absurd, but he felt a huge weight off his shoulders at your words. His gaze wandered over your lips for a few seconds, before he glanced quickly behind him.

"I-" He started slowly, looking suddenly slightly embarrassed. "Can I kiss you?"

His question made you smile for real this time, finding his reaction rather unexpected and ironic, given of what had happened earlier.

"Really, Hyunjin? You literally kissed me in front of dozens of people and now you're getting all embarrassed." You teased him. "So cute."

At your last comment, his expression changed dramatically. Suddenly, he leaned over and grabbed your chin, forcing you to lock your eyes with his.

"Me, cute?" He tilted his head to the side, his gaze languishing in your face, as if to memorize every detail. "You sure about that?" All trace of embarrassment had disappeared from his attitude. He looked more than serious and you couldn't deny that you liked this new facade of him.

"Why don't you show it to me then?" You didn't know where that line, or even that daring, had come from, but you didn't complain when Hyunjin's lips rested on yours for the second time that evening. The kiss was way more intense than the one you had shared earlier. Hotter and more eager. You gasped in surprise as Hyunjin grabbed you by the back of your thighs to lift you up, prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist. Your dress, which was already short, rose at this gesture, giving him easy access to your ass. Placing yourself on the bathroom counter, you were slightly disappointed when he pulled away from you, breaking your kiss. You looked at him with puppy eyes, as he turned around to close the bathroom door and lock it.

"Just making sure we won't be disturbed." He smirked, taking full notice of your desperate look. He wasted no time before stepping back between your legs, his lips joining yours for a warm kiss once again.

"Fuck, you don't know how many times I've fantasized about being like this with you since the last time." He whispered in admiration, as he kissed the path up to your neck, where he teasingly bit your soft spot which he found easily. You suppressed a small moan at his gesture, your fingers venturing into his long curls and pulling them gently. You could tell he liked it by the deep moan he made.

"You left me so hard when you ran away last time." He straightened up to look at you straight in the eyes, the sheer desire burning through his gaze making you feel in a certain way you could describe as sinful.

"I was afraid I had done something wrong when you pushed me away. I even felt bad for getting so excited after you teased me under the table in the presence of our parents." The tone of his voice clearly reflected nostalgia.

"But don't feel bad. I just panicked at the time." You smiled at him, passing a hand on his cheek to reassure him.

"And if I'm being honest, the situation got me excited too." You confessed shyly. Your revelation relaxed him slightly, but also boosted his confidence.

"Really?" He asked rhetorically, stroking your thighs with his fingertips. Your heart race increased as he rushed to drop hungry kisses down your collarbone, wasting no time slipping your sleeve, giving him a perfect access to the base of your breasts.

"Fuck.. Please..." You moaned, wiggling lightly against him, begging him for more, which made him smirk in satisfaction. You were as desperate for him as he was for you.

"My baby is so impatient. So sweet." He chuckled, visibly enjoying seeing you so hopeless for him to touch you intimately. It didn't take him long before he decided to finally slid his hand between your thighs, easily finding your clit, his fingers rubbing it so skillfully.

"I can already feel your wetness." He bit his lower lip, his dark eyes focusing on your face contracted with pleasure. You were so beautiful.

"Lay down." You were torn from your little cloud of pleasure again, when he removed his touch from your panties to remove it entirely, exposing your soaked pussy to him. You leaned back as he ordered, leaning back against the mirror behind you and opening your legs wide for him to give him an easy access to what he wanted the most right now. You knew seeing yourself so exposed and vulnerable just for him, hugely turned him on. The visible bulge on his crotch being the proof.

"You look so fucking good, baby." He said, licking his lips, obviously pleased pf the way you were already dripping just for him, when he barely touched you. Not breaking eye contact, he knelt between your legs, gripping your thighs to keep them firmly open, before languidly licking your cunt, stickinf his tongue inside of you. Your fingers found his hair again, gripping it tightly when Hyunjin suddenly began to suck on your sensitive swollen clit. You couldn't stop a few moans from escaping, even though you were trying the best you could to not to be too loud. Your hips subconsciously bucked against his face, forcing him to wrap his arms around your hips so that he could stabilize you moving too much. He intended to make you scream his name with pleasure and he wanted to do it the right way. You felt like you were losing your mind when the way he was eating you out changed, getting much more rougher and hungrier. He then suddenly slipped a finger, then a second, inside you, touching your weak spot with every pump and strock of his fingers.

"Hyunjin.. Too much.." You moaned, squirming more and more under his grip on you with each of his moves. Your thoughts were clouded with pleasure, dizzying your mind. You couldn't think properly anymore, only your orgasm, that you could feel was getting closer and closer, was the only thing you could think about. The tension, which you could feel building in your lower abdomen, exploded as Hyunjin once again eagerly wrapped his lips around your clit. Your eyes rolled back, as your orgasm washed you away, making you moan loudly in ecstasy. Seeing you come around his fingers and his mouth didn't make him stop his movements. You had to beg him to stop when it got too much for you to handle. His mouth and chin were almost dripping with your juice, giving his lips an delicious shine. You felt empty when his fingers slipped off you, but you ignored it, straightening up quickly and pulling him back into a sloppy kiss, where you clearly tasted yourself on his tongue. Your hands were hanging from the waistband of his pants, which you delicately untied during your erotic exchange. You desperately wanted to feel his cock, which you could feel was already hard enough, between your lips and at the very thought, you could feel your pussy getting wetter than before.

"My good girl is so desperate for my cock?" He whispered between your lips, the sudden nickname and the hand that came wrapping around your throat made you feel much more excited and eager for him. You moaned slightly in contentment at the pleasant feeling he made you feel just by his actions and presence. You went to answer him, but was cut off by what happened outside.

"5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Happy New Year!" The loud mixed voices of people still partying echoed throughout the house. At this understanding, you looked at each other for a few moments, before involuntarily bursting into laughter.

"New year, new girl, which means new resolutions. That's all I can say about it." He said, giving you a wink full of innuendos. Blushing, you couldn't hide the smile that crept onto your lips.

"I think it's the same for me then." You declared in admiration in your turn, matching his vibe.

"Good, because I have every intention of making up for the lost time." He whispered seductively. "In every sense of the word." His last words gave you shivers of anticipation. You knew you were in there for a long ride. After all, maybe the special connection you had as a kid hadn't changed at all.

[malereader-inserts]

Something Worthwhile

Fandom: BBC Sherlock Pairing: Mycroft Holmes & Brother!Reader & Sherlock Holmes Summary: It’s hard being a Holmes sometimes, especially when you’re alone Word Count: 1,470 Request: Holmes brother who is having difficulties fitting in with his two smart, intelligent and brilliant brothers. He feels left out and alone and ends up isolating himself further. Somehow John is the only one who notices this but Sherlock and Mycroft dont believe him because they dont think a Holmes brother is capable of such feelings so John has to properly lecture them on feelings and stuff and then they search for reader and help him out of the slums. Sorry if this is too long A/n: Y’all be linking brotherly holmes stuff.

“I could be greater.”

John looks at you, at the doorway, watching you stretch your back, moving boxes surrounding you. You get out a groan at the sweet release of stress leaving your tense muscle, clicking parts of your body as John just stares at you.

He came to visit, check up on you, you had been awfully quiet for a while and he got worried. What he had not expected to see you packing your belonging to move houses. 

“What?” He looks at you confused as you looked at him, a smile but it wasn’t comforting.

It was a smile of tiredness, you shrugged your shoulders.

“I could be greater, you know? Compared to Sherlock and Mycroft, I could be painfully greater.”

“You’re already great.”

“Are you sure? I can hardly keep up with Sherlock and Mycroft, one of them is one of the greatest detectives and the other one is working with the Government. And me?” You scoffed, shaking your head, “I’m not as great as them.”

“So, you’re moving?”

“Uh, isn’t that obvious?”

John looks around, you’re a lot human, easier to relate to as a Holmes. But, he understands to be the odd one out. He can’t fault you for feeling that. He asks you if you need help, you smile and shake your head, waving he off. John tells you that he’s off, if you ever need him he’s only a phone call away - you looked grateful for that.

After that, he doesn’t see you or hear from you. He goes to check your old apartment, it’s cleared out, empty almost as if it’s getting ready to get renovated. It was abandoned and the warmth you gave the house, was washed away. John doesn’t know what you’re thinking, but you’ve disappeared.

It worries John.

You hated your brothers, just as much as you love them. They were ahead of the game, ahead of life. They’re producing such brilliant works, but you were left behind. You were three steps ahead of the game but your brothers were nine steps ahead. You were walking with life, whilst your brothers are running past it. You could never be your brothers, and it was hard for you to understand that.

Your mother and father have had high expectations after both Mycroft and Sherlock being ahead of their classes, they expected you to be the same. But, you weren’t. You were top of the class, but that hardly meant anything to them. It got tiring to try to keep up with them.

So, you found yourself a place, across London, furthest away from Sherlock’s apartment. It was small but cosy, it was your safe space, plants everywhere, handing from the ceiling, all content in your loving presence. Your cat that lounges around the house currently draped over the back of the sofa. 

The living room was clashing with different colour, but you like that, it was vibrant, you don’t do dull things. If you’re going to take your time with life then you might as well think the world is in bright colours like an indie filter on Instagram. 

You have to romanticise your little life if it means to distract you from your brothers. That means thinking every time you cook, you have to believe you’re in a Studio Ghibli movie, where all the food looks mouth-watering.

You were happier, being away, isolating yourself away. 

It doesn’t settle well with John. 

So, when he had returned home from work and saw both Holmes brothers, he sat them down, his arms crossed over his chest looking angry at them. Though, to Sherlock that’s how John looks all the time. He gave them a good earful, even Mrs Hudson went upstairs to investigate what was happening. Even she gave her own opinion as well.

But, with both brothers, they took nothing in.

They look at them blankly.

“That’s not (Y/n),” Sherlock breaks the silence with a chuckle, a smile that could freak anyone out, but John was too pissed off with him that he wanted to punch it off.

“Yes, our brother is fine, but I do thank you for the concern,” Mycroft says politely as he flinches at John’s intense glare, “Anyway, (Y/n) doesn’t feel that, if he was, he would have told us.”

“Really?” John asked, scoffing, shaking his head with an unsettling chuckle that made both Holmes brother sit upright, “Why would he tell you what he’s feeling when you constantly dismissing him when he feels anything but confidence?”

“I-”

The brothers wanted to intervene, but this has ticked John off beyond belief. It had prompted him to rant to them that both brothers were afraid to interrupt because after all, John was making sense for once. For once, an average smart man was talking so intelligently that they felt like they were reduced to nothing.

“He tells you that his emotions have been overwhelming, you tell him to get over it. When he can barely get out of bed because he feels like the world is resting upon his shoulders you tell him to grow a thicker skin. When he cries, you tell him its a sign of weakness, he looks for his brothers for guidance but his brothers tell him to look for it himself.”

“John-”

“For God’s sake, he told me he was in therapy because he doesn’t want to tell you because you’d see him as a disappointment. He’s trying so hard and every achievement he does - it gets brushed under the rug. He thinks he has already disappointed your mother and father, God only knows what he’s thinking now to know that his brothers have abandoned him.”

“But, we haven’t,” Sherlock mutters out so softly, John could tell that he was ashamed in himself.

“I don’t even know where he is. He hasn’t been picking up my calls or replying to my messages, I don’t know where he moved.”

“He moved?” Mycroft asked, astounded, as John sighs.

John rubs his forehead, hand on his hip, looking exhausted and stress. Nodding sheepishly. John has been trying hard to locate you but London is a big city with various different apartments. He doesn’t know if you had moved far from your old place, he doesn’t have a brain like the Holmes, he couldn’t deduce where you intend to go.

“Yeah, so while to try to find him. Both of you are going to think of a good apology.”

“How are you so calm? He could have killed hi-”

“He told me that he wouldn’t do that because the thought of his cat thinking he had abandoned her hurts him more than ending it all.”

With a statement like that, the brothers wonder how bad they caused your pain.

Sherlock and Mycroft walk up to your apartment, the stairs were nice - both brothers noticed, you like that because you hated stairs, especially steep ones. They knocked on your door, hoping it was you on the other side.

They can hear your record player playing some songs, though with the door shut it was hard to tell what was playing. They knock again, before hearing your footsteps and the door opening.

“Why are you here?” You asked, your brothers hurt with no greeting and no smile to come along with it.

“John expressed his concerns,” Mycroft says, swallowing his pride, “It has made up realise that we have-”

“We have fucked up as brothers,” Sherlock completed.

“Charming,” Mycroft mutters bitterly.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” You were about to slam the door but Sherlock was strong enough to keep the door open with just the strength of his left arm, “Leave me alone.”

“No, we’re not leaving until we fix our mess. We’re brothers, our parents have given us hell and it’s not fair for you to go through their hell all by yourself,” Sherlock says firmly before eyes softening, “Please (Y/n).”

“You don’t have to talk, you can just listen,” Mycroft says as a compromise, to meet you in the middle, “We know that you’re not going to forgive us right away, but, we don’t want you to be alone again.”

You stand there in silence, before huffing out, opening the door wider and standing to the side. Your brothers entering your home; it smells a lot like you. You shut the door behind them, your cat seeing your brothers and instantly stretching and walk towards you. 

Jumping up in your arms, your cat stares his sharp glaring eyes towards your brothers as if he was warning them.

Your brothers seemed unsettled as they sit down, they’re not prepared for the talk ahead of them. They don’t expertise in the subject of feelings and relating to others, but if it means to keep you around longer.

It’s something worthwhile to do.

[lilchibi-chan]

Reader has a BF x MHA Boys

This is a follow up to a request I received. You can read it here ☺️

Ever since Todoroki confessed his feelings to you, it was all you could think about. Whenever he got near you, you felt butterflies well up in your stomach. You were so nervous, but also confused. Could you possibly have feelings for Shoto?

‘No way’ you thought to yourself

You enter class and Shoto is sitting in his seat which is next to yours. You make your way over slowly, thoughts of that moment filling your head. You replay that moment over and over.

“G-good morning Shoto,” you say nervously

“Good morning y/n. Are you feeling alright,” he asks concerned

“Y-yeah, just a little anxious this morning”

“Is there anything I can do to help,” he asks getting closer to you

“No, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it,” you say flustered

He gives you a small smile, then rubs your hand in small circles with his thumb

His hands were soft and warm. They provided comfort when you needed it. This doesn’t imply that you like him, but you appreciated how caring he was being in this moment.

You smile back at him and wait for class to begin.

Aizawa gives you guys a partner project that you have to complete together and allows everyone to pick partners.

“Hey girl, you wanna work together,” Mina says eagerly

You look over at Todoroki and he appears to be somewhat sad at the fact that Mina asked you to be her partner

“I think... I’m gonna stay with Todoroki, he knows a lot about this subject and I really need an A or else my parents will kill me”

“Aww poop,” Mina says with a pout,“alright then. In other news, how’s the boyfriend” she says teasing

“He’s good, I’m actually gonna meet him at his school today,” you say smiling

Todoroki excused himself to leave and get some water. Bakugou follows a couple seconds later.

“Dammit IcyHot, you’re such a wuss”

“What are you referring to?” Todoroki asks

“C’MON DON’T TREAT ME LIKE I’M SOME IDIOT! I’M TALKING ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS FOR Y/N!”

“Always so loud, Bakugou. Since you want to have an opinion on the matter, what would you do if you were me?”

Bakugou is flustered by the question, but thinks of an answer.

“W-well if it were me, I-I wouldn’t go down without a fight. Show her who the better man is”

“That’s where you and I are differ Bakugou. She’s already shown that she is happy how she is and I don’t want to get in the way of her happiness. To see her smile fade and know I was the cause. That feeling. I don’t even want to imagine it.”

“So, you’re just gonna give up on her. You never give up when fighting me, so why give up on someone that you care for that much. If you really like her as much as you say you do, just chase after her dammit!”

“WHAT GOOD IS IT IF NOTHING COMES FROM ME GOING AFTER HER?!” Todoroki says, finally losing his cool

“At least you know you tried and even if it does go the other way, you live without regretting what you did,” Bakugou says

“Wow,” Todoroki says with a small smirk,“I never thought you would ever be a voice of reason Bakugou and what you say actually makes sense. That’s truly impressive”

“I’M NOT AS DUMB AS YOU ALL THINK I AM! I’M ACTUALLY REALLY SMART!” Bakugou says fuming

Todoroki laughs

“W-what’s so funny?” Bakugou asks confused

“Nothing...thank you for the advice Bakugou. You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Todoroki says walking back to class

When he makes it back, you were laughing with Mina and then you look over and smile at him. He smiles back and makes his way to his seat.

“Todoroki, would you mind coming with me to my boyfriend’s school? I hate going places alone and I feel like I would be more comfortable if you were with me. If you’re not comfortable, it’s okay. I’ll ask someo-“

“It’s fine Y/N, I don’t mind at all”

“Thanks Shoto, you’re the best”

*******************************************************

It’s finally the end of the day and you and Todoroki make it to your boyfriend’s school. You stand with him at the front gate waiting to see if your boyfriend will show.

You see one of his friends and ask them they’ve seen your boyfriend. They tell you that he’s on the soccer field behind the school and you and Shoto make your way back there.

When you make it to the back of the school, you see him surrounded by a group of girls. Your boyfriend is handsome and really nice to everyone, so it’s reasonable that he would have a few female fans. Although you don’t mind, you still can’t help but feel slightly jealous and even a little hurt. You wished he would tell them to leave him alone, but you know how he would feel about that, so you kept your feelings to yourself.

Shoto looked over at you and noticed you had a sudden sadness in your eyes watching your boyfriend with the girls.

He starts walking over to where your boyfriend is.

“Shoto,” you say confused, following after him

He grabs your boyfriend by the collar and pushes him up against the wall.

“SHOTO!!” you scream, running over to where he pushed your boyfriend

“DON’T YOU SEE WHAT YOU’RE DOING TO HER!”  Shoto says screaming, you’ve never seen him this angry. He’s always level headed, even when pushed to his limit, but this was different.

Your boyfriend looks over at you and you’re crying.

It wasn’t because he was talking to the girls, although it does hurt, especially knowing that they all find him attractive. It was because you knew Shoto was doing this to protect you, but you didn’t think he would be this angry.

You thought Shoto was going to him, but he helps your boyfriend off of the ground. 

“I’m sorry, I let my anger get the best of me,” Shoto says

“Really? Your anger? Dude you just pushed me to the ground like a fucking maniac!” 

“Baby, relax. He didn’t mean it. He’s not usually like this,” you say trying to diffuse the situation

“Babe, I see the way he looks at you. Don’t treat me like a fucking idiot. I know he fucking likes you,” he says slightly raising his voice

“I-I’m sorry,” you say, your voice cracking

Your boyfriend notices you’re about to cry, as you were already feeling emotional.

“N-no, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. That was wrong, but back to you, Todoroki.”

“No,” Todoroki says putting his hand up,”I see that I have caused enough trouble and I apologize, but with all do respect, you owe them enough to respect them even if they’re not around. Letting these girls follow you around and give you love letters is inappropriate, especially since they seem to not be a fan of how friendly you are to those girls.”

Todoroki starts to walk away, heading back to UA.

You look over at your boyfriend and start to speak up.

“Go after him, I see in your eyes that you have something to say. I’ll wait for you right here,” your boyfriend says before you can even open your mouth to say anything

You follow after Shoto.

“Shoto...wait...hey,” you say as you’re running to catch up to him

He finally stops and turns to see you running to him. You catch your breath and start to speak.

“Thank you...Shoto,” you say still catching your breath,”I wish it was handled a bit differently, but thank you for doing that. I wish I would’ve been brave enough to say something before, but-”

“Don’t mention it, Y/N. You’re very important to me and I would’ve done it for someone else, had care about them as much as I care about you, but there’s no one else that I care about that much. Have a good time with your boyfriend, okay,” he says, then turns to walk away

“But Shoto,-”

“No buts Y/N. Go back to him. I’ll see you at school.”

You pull him into a hug and head back to where your boyfriend was waiting for you.

It’s the Saturday after your outing with Bakugou and your boyfriend. You wake up cuddling the plushie that Bakugou won for you and the sun is peaking through your curtains. You feel yourself smile at the sight of the stuffed animal and decide to get out of bed.

You head into the bathroom with your phone and text Bakugou before you get in the shower, asking if he was open to hanging out today. You head in the shower  and start getting ready for the day

With Bakugou

He hears his phone buzz on his night stand and rolls over on his bed to see who could be texting him. He thought it might be his mom, so he was going to ignore it but something tells him to look at his phone.

He sits up in his side and reaches for it.

Once he sees it’s a text from you, the biggest smile spreads on his face. He immediately stops in case anyone saw him, forgetting that he’s in his room by himself. He looks around and starts smiling at the message, reading it over and over.

He finally snaps out of it and texts back ‘sure, whatever’

He tosses his phone and lays back down with a satisfied smile.

He couldn’t wait to see you, so he popped out of bed and decided to shower and get dressed.

Back with you

You finally finish your shower and look at your phone to see that Bakugou texted you back.

You laugh at text thinking ‘typical Bakugou’

You text him back ‘meet in front of my room in ten?’

He texts back ‘okay’

You set your phone down and continue getting dressed for the day. You put in a sweatshirt, some mom jeans, sneakers and a leather jacket. You grab your purse and go to open the door to your room.

When you open it, Bakugou is standing right outside, leaning against your door frame.

“Mornin Bakugou,” you say with a smile

“Mornin” he says, smiling back

You let a small laugh escape your lips.

“What? What’s so funny? I have something in my teeth,” he asks frantically

You laugh again

“No,” you say trying to contain yourself,“you just have a really nice smile and I wish you would do it more”

He blushes and tries to hide it from you

“L-lets just go...damn nerd. What’re we doing today anyway?”

“Whatever you like,” you tell him with a smile

“W-whatddya mean? Is this some kind of prank,” he asks, his temper starting to well up

“No,” you say with laughter in your voice,“Bakugou...I know you didn’t wanna hang around with my boyfriend and I yesterday and that you only did it for me. I’m doing this because I appreciate you putting your pride aside and actually being nice to him.”

Bakugou blushes in response and for the first time, you’ve left him speechless

“S-so what’re we doing today, Y/N”

“Well, a couple of weeks ago...I signed us up for a cooking class. I know how much you love it so I figured why not and maybe you could even learn some new dishes and-“

“Thank you,” he says interrupting you,“that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me”

“Bakugou, you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had. You’re not the best at showing your emotions or executing them in the best way but you deserve a day to feel appreciated”

“I-I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that” he said scratching the back of his head

You laugh and the both of you walk out of the dorm and head to the cooking class.

It was in a bakery, so you would be making pastries, such as tarts, macaroons and etc.

From the time you entered, you could feel the excitement radiating off of Bakugou.

You decide to take a picture of him to capture this moment.

“H-hey what was that for? YOU BETTER NOT SHOW ANYONE THAT!!”

You burst out laughing and walk Bakugou over to one of the stations that was set up.

Some time passes and the class starts. As you’re mixing the ingredients together, you look over at Bakugou and noticed how focused he is, so you take out your phone and start to record.

“Today is a very special day as we get to observe the extremely talented Chef Bakugou in his kitchen. He is currently in the middle of making the crust for our fruit tart today”

“W-what’re you doing?” He asks nervous

“Relax chef, it’s just for memories, now walk us through what you’re doing now”

The look of nervousness fades and his cocky smile came out.

“Alright, since it’s the great chef Bakugou you want, we’re gonna put the dough into our pan and get started on our fruit.”

He starts cutting up fruit and you look over at the bowl of whip cream that was on the side. You dip your finger in and pop some on his nose.

He looks over at you with daggers.

“So it’s a fight you want huh?”

He did the same as you, but put it on your cheeks causing you to gasp and laugh really loud. The teacher that was observing came over to your table.

“Is everything okay over here,” she says with a warm laugh

“Yeah, everything’s fine, s-sorry for disrupting you ma’am” you say nervously

“No no,” she says smiling and waving her hand,“I’m glad you both are having fun...you’re a beautiful couple by the way,” she says and starts to walk away

“Oh we’re not-uh he’s not,” you say trying to get the words out but they never escape

Once the class ends, you and Bakugou head to the shopping center nearby. You needed to pick up some skin care and figured now would be a good time to pick them up, so that you didn’t have to go back out tomorrow.

“Did you like the class,” you ask Bakugou expectantly

“Y-yeah, it was great. Thank you again,” he says, but you notice his tone is a little somber

“You okay, Bakugou”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. It’s nothing”

“Katsuki” you say causing him to stop because you only call him by his first name when you’re serious

“Look, there’s a photo booth. Why don’t we go take some pictures” he asks obviously trying to change the subject

“Sure,” you say softly smiling and deciding to drop it, figuring he would tell you what’s bothering him when he’s ready

You both go inside the photo booth and sit down. You start off by doing some cute poses and Bakugou just stares at you for a moment.

You don’t notice and he turns your face, so that you’re looking at him.

“B-Bakugou” you say slightly nervous about what could possibly happen next

He gets closer to you, your lips barely touching.

Your heart starts racing and you close your eyes, bracing yourself for what’s about to happen. Both of which you were still unsure about and also strangely calm.

He stopped and thought about what he was doing. He decided against it and you were relieved, but also strangely sad. You were fully aware of Bakugou’s feeling for you and although you’re in a relationship, you just wanted his to admit it already. Show some type of emotion other than just trying to be strong or cocky. He did show you his soft side and you loved when he did that. You just wished he would be more honest and open about his feelings. You’re his best friend after all.

“We-We should probably head out. It’s finished taking our pictures,” he says sadly

You both exit the booth, he takes his copy and hands you yours. All you can do is stare at the last picture and you can’t but feel guilty. You have a boyfriend. You shouldn’t be thinking about Bakugou kissing you in the slightest bit.

You mentally slap yourself and tell yourself to get yourself together.

You and Bakugou begin to head back to the dorms.

Once you get back, he walks you to your room.

“Hey, Y/N” he starts,“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have done what I did in that photo booth. I just-ugh-you make me go crazy. I can’t hide what I’m feeling anymore. I like you, Y/N. I like you so much that I was willing to kiss you knowing you’re happy and in a relationship and it was stupid, but I just...had to do something. I’m really sorry and it’ll never happen again.”

You were surprised that he admitted it and even more shocked that he felt guilty. He usually never regrets anything, but to hear him say that was really big of him and you were proud of him for admitting that what he did was wrong.

“Bakugou, honestly,” you start,“I’m glad you finally told me. I’ve known for a while. You hide your feelings well, but not from me.”

“W-why didn’t you say anything then,” he asks surprised

“Because I wanted you to tell me. On your own time. On your own terms. You always hide yourself, Katsuki. I’m so unbelievably proud of you right now, but also sad”

“Why-Why are you sad,” he asks grabbing your hand

“Because I think maybe we need some time apart. In that photo booth...I wanted it to happen,” you finally admit,“but I also have a boyfriend and that wouldn’t have been right to him or to you. I can’t take advantage of you Katsuki and I’m not gonna break my boyfriend’s trust. I just need to figure out these feelings and talk with him as well. I’m still your friend, but I think maybe we could use some distance,” you say, tears streaming down your face.

It’s silent for a while

“Okay,” Bakugou finally says,“if this is how it has to be, then fine. I’ll give you your space and I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

“That’s...really mature of you,Katsuki. Thank you for that”

“I’m gonna go to my room now and I completely understand if you don’t want your set of pictures, I’ll take the-”

“I want them, Katsuki. All of them,” you say adamently

He heads off to his room and once he gets there, he punches a wall. He closes his black out curtain, lays down and starts to cry.

‘I’m so stupid,’ he thought to himself

‘How could I do that,’ he thinks again

These thoughts running through his head until he falls asleep.

Back with you

You enter your room and lay on your bed, on your stomach.

You stare at the pictures you and Bakugou took together and can’t help but notice how he was looking at you.

You start to cry because you know he’s probably kicking himself right now. He probably felt like this was all his fault, but you have felt some type of feelings for him for a little while and they were further confirmed today.

This was eating you alive and although you feel like crap, you know for right now, it’s for the best.

You decide to text your boyfriend

‘We need to talk’

Today, Class 1A is going on a trip to a hot springs spa and hotel. You’re a little nervous, but nervous excited. The kind where you get butterflies in your stomach.

When you get on the bus, you search for Kirishima and find him in the sea of classmates due to his bright red hair.

He was talking with Kaminari and Bakugou, so you called out his name to get his attention.

He looks around to see where it came from and his eyes finally land on you. He smiles and waves you over, so that you could sit next to him.

“Hey guys,” you say smiling

“Thanks for saving me a seat Kiri”

“Of course! You are my best friend after all and I wouldn’t wanna spend this bus ride with anyone else,” he says

“What about Bakugou” you ask, eyebrow raised and smirking

“That’s completely different,” he says, slightly nervous

The bus takes off and you take out a book you started reading a couples days ago to try and keep yourself up on the long ride.

It’s about 45 minutes into the ride and you look over at Kirishima to see what he’s up to and he’s fast asleep. You watch as his chest rises and falls slowly, his mouth slightly open and small snores escaping.

You smile and think he looks adorable.

You decide to take a nap as well since there’s an hour left of the ride.

Once the bus stops, you wake up and notice that you ended up on Kirishima’s shoulder with his head rested on top of yours.

You nudge him softly to wake him up.

“Good morning, sleepy head,” you say smiling up at him

He lets out a small laugh

“Morning” he says smiling back

Aizawa stands up in the front of the bus with All Might

“Although, this is a trip away from school, you will still be tested on your abilities,” Aizawa says,“With that being said, you will be allowed to explore the spa and hotel facilities and do with your time whatever it is that you do. I have your room assignments and All Might and I will read them out to you. Once handed your room key, you will be able to head inside with your group. As okay it is for you all to have fun, make sure you get some rest tonight.”

They read out the room assignments and you get up to meet Mina, Momo and Uraraka outside

“After you get settled, let me know when you’re finished and we’ll meet outside your room,” Kirishima says with a smile

“What do you have planned,” you ask curious with an eyebrow raised

“Don’t worry about it, just know that you’re gonna have fun” he says reassuring you

You and Kiri head your separate ways and you hurry to unpack because you’re too excited and curious to see what Kirishima had up his sleeve. Any time he had a something spontaneous planned, you had the best time.

“What’re you such in a hurry for,” Mina asks prying

“N-nothing” you say nervous

“Aww, c’mon y/n, don’t be like that,” Mina says with a pout

“If you must know-” you’re cut off when you hear a knock at the door

You go to answer it and Kirishima is standing right there

“Ooooooh, I see why you were so excited now,” Mina says teasing

“Mina, stop it. That’s very immature. If she wants to be excited about hanging out with Kirishima then let her,” Momo says

“Yeah! Maybe he has something fun planned,” Uraraka says

“Jeez guys, you could just let me have a little fun,” Mina says, fake sad

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait,” Kirishima says, laughter filling his voice

“Sh-shut up. Let’s just go,” you say somewhat embarrassed

You both leave and you close the door behind you.

“He so likes her. I wish he would just tell her already,” Mina says

“Because she has a boyfriend, Mina. Kirishima doesn’t seem like the type to disrespect someone’s relationship,” Momo says

“That’s true,” Mina says somewhat sad

“Since we’re in here and don’t really have any plans, why don’t we go to the baths,” Mina asks

“Maybe we should wait for y/n,” Uraraka says,“I’m sure she would enjoy it as well and it would be kinda mean if we went without her.”

“True...how about we play a game! Momo could you make some notebooks for us,” Mina asks excited

“Sure, but what are we playing,” momo asks confused

“The alphabet game! We write different categories in different columns and the rows are for how many rounds we play and the person with the most points at the end wins. This is how I used to play it with my friends when we were younger”

“Sounds fun!” Uraraka says with a smile

With you and Kirishima

You and him walk to the lobby and once there he goes behind you to cover your eyes.

“What are you doing,” you ask with a giggle and slightly nervous

“Just trust me...you’re gonna love it. Well at least I hope you are,” he says nervously

You both walk for a few moments until he finally stops.

When he uncovers your eyes, in front of you is a shopping are built like a small town market and there are small stores all around.

He looks at you as your eyes light up and you smile from ear to ear with excitement.

“Kiri!! This is so cute!! How did you know about this,” you ask

“I looked this place up online and looked at some of their main attractions. One of the recommended places was this market place. They said these gusts really enjoy it and I thought it might be something you would like to see,” he says honestly

He knew you loved the little things and experiencing things like this.

“This is amazing” you say

“Well, let’s go check it out,” he says, grabbing hold of your hand

He did it without a second thought, but you didn’t mind it. You figured he was just excited to walk around with you and have fun today.

As you’re walking around, you notice Kirishima is quiet and he has let go of your hand.

“What’s on your mind,” you ask, pulling him out of his thoughts

“Oh, nothing. Um, how are you and your boyfriend doing? You haven’t spoken of him in a while,” he asks

“Honestly...we haven’t really been speaking. Not because of anything bad, but he just seems really disinterested in having a conversation. He gives one word answers or just doesn’t text back until hours later. I feel like maybe he’s bored and just wants to break up or maybe we’ve grown apart. Every time I try to talk to him, his mind is somewhere else and I just wish I knew what it was. Him and I started off as best friends, ya know. We would tell each other everything and now it’s like we’re strangers,” you say, hating to admit it

Kiri looks down and lets out a soft sigh.

“If you want my opinion...I think you should see him when we get back. Talk things out and I’m sure once he sees you, he’ll remember why loves you in the first place. You’re an amazing and beautiful person and any guy would be the luckiest to have you,” he says

“Kiri...how do you always know what to say,” you ask

“I wouldn’t say that, but I just know you and I know once things are out in the open, you’ll be happier and things will work out in the end,” he says smiling

“Sorry Kiri” you say with a sad smile

“What for,” he asks confused

“For making this time together so...sad,” you say with a laugh,“you brought me here to hang out and I just brought it down. I’m so-“

He puts a hand up

“Stop apologizing,” he says smiling,“I love spending time with you no matter what”

“Thanks Kiri...c’mon let’s go get some snacks, I’m craving something sweet and YOU’RE buying,” you say with a laugh

“Sure,” he says, letting out a laugh as well

After some time looking around and get something to eat, Kiri takes you back to your room where the girls at actually getting ready to head to the baths.

You and Kirishima stop in front of your door.

“I hope you had fun today and I hope everything goes okay with your boyfriend,” he says

“I had an amazing day and it’s cause I have such a great friend like you. Thanks,” you say and then kiss him on the cheek

When you open the door to your room, you see the girls acting “natural”, but you just know they were eavesdropping.

“Oh! Hey, you’re back. Wanna head to the baths with us? We heard they’re amazing,” Mina says, doing a horrible job at acting

“Sure, just let me get changed,” you say smiling

[fandomfindings]

Pick Up

Pairings: (Kuroo Tetsurou x Fem!Reader)

Word Count: 2.0K

Warning(s): Cursing, Audacity

Summary: The first time you pick up your daughter from daycare leads to a misunderstanding between you and the staff.

A/N: (DN) = Daughter's Name

----------

"Can we go get ice cream when you pick me up, daddy?" Your daughter asked, kicking her little legs against the booster seat that kept her small body in place in the car.

Kuroo chuckled. Of course, the child was already looking forward to a sweet treat after school. "You're going to have to ask mommy princess; she's picking you up today."

"Mommy's picking me up?" (DN) perked up at the thought, removing her gaze from the window and to the back of her father's head.

"Mhm," Kuroo mumbled lightly. "I have to go on another business trip, so mommy's bringing you to daycare and back home all week," your husband explained thoroughly.

"Yes!" (DN) exclaimed, obviously excited for the change of events. Kuroo was usually the one to take her to and from school, for it fit better with his work schedule than your own.

"You're not going to miss me?" asked Kuroo, feigning hurt, as he looked between his daughter in the car's rear-view mirror and the road.

"I'll miss you, daddy, but mommy never picked me up from school before! I want her to meet all my friends and teachers, and she can see where we play," Your daughter began to ramble about all the things she was excited to show you, all the way until the two had reached her daycare.

Kuroo helped the child from her booster seat and then the car, taking her small hand into his significantly larger one.

"Alright, sweetheart. I'll call you for bed, okay," Your husband said once inside the building, down on one knee to be eye level with his child.

"Okay, daddy. Bye, I love you," (DN) said, grabbing her father's face with her small hands and placing a kiss on his forehead, an action she picked up from exchanges between you and your husband.

Kuroo smiled, reciprocating the action, his big hands taking up almost all of her face. "I love you too, kiddo."

As a worker took the girl to her class, Kuroo called out to her one last time, "Be good!"

"Yes, sir!" your daughter yelled back, turning around to wave her father goodbye.

Kuroo stood, ridding his suit of any dirt that may have stuck to him while he was on his knee. He was about to leave when someone spoke up to catch his attention.

"You're very good with her," said one of the workers. Kuroo often saw her when dropping off or picking up your daughter. They made small talk now and then, but he couldn't even remember the poor lady's name.

"I would hope so," Kuroo chuckled awkwardly, not sure how to respond to the supposed compliment.

The worker laughed back, almost too much in Kuroo's opinion considering the remark wasn't very funny.

"Yeah, I respect you for taking such good care of her, especially since," The woman began but was interrupted by the ringing of Kuroo's phone, a unique ringtone he had in place just for you.

As soon as he heard the tone, Kuroo didn't hear the rest of what the employee had to say. Unbeknownst to him, it was about him being a single father, which wasn't true by any means.

"Yeah, babe?" Kuroo answered, turning to leave the building, completely forgetting the previous conversation, too excited about hearing your voice.

"Bye, Mr.Kuroo!" shouted the lady, trying one last desperate attempt to get his attention.

He gave a simple wave of his hand back before leaving the building entirely.

"Who was that?" You questioned, hearing the voice even through the phone.

"One of the workers at (DN)'s school," Kuroo explained, uninterested. "How are you this morning, my love?" he asked, changing the subject to something he was actually interested in, you.

"Babe, let me tell you!" You exclaimed, getting ready to rant about your morning thus far, causing Kuroo to chuckle.

The rest of your day went off without too many more hiccups. You met Kuroo for lunch just before he left for his business trip. There you gave final goodbyes to your dismay, but you knew you would see him soon.

After work, you headed to your daughter's daycare, excited to see her cute little face again. Once there, you parked and headed inside to a front desk as Kuroo instructed.

"Hi, how are you?" asked an employee as soon as you reached the desk.

"I'm alright, and you?"

"I'm well. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Yes, I'm here to pick up (DN)," You stated using the sign-out sheet Kuroo had also instructed you to do.

"Kuroo (DN)?" The worker clarified, verifying your name after you completed the sheet.

"That's her," you smiled at the mention of her name.

"Of course, I'll get her right away."

"Thank you," you said politely to the retreating employee. As you waited, you pulled out your phone, seeing a picture from Kuroo looking bored in a meeting. Grinning to yourself, you replied with some words of encouragement.

"Are you her nanny?" asked a sudden voice. You looked up to see it was the other worker who was at the desk. You hadn't paid much attention to her since she didn't address you when you first arrived.

"I'm sorry?"

The woman asked again, "Are you (DN)'s nanny?"

"Ha no, I'm her mother," You replied, thinking it was funny that she thought so. Looking back to your phone, you were about to send a joking text to Kuroo about being the 'nanny', not finding a reason to continue the conversation.

Unfortunately for you, the woman continued it anyway, "You're her mother?" questioned the worker skeptically.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"Am I sure I'm her mother?" You asked, voice rising in volume slightly, almost appalled she would ask such a thing. The employee nodded, not daring to ask you again. "I'm pretty sure, considering I've raised her since she was born. Would you like to see her birth certificate?" You challenged.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I'm going to have to call Mr.Kuroo just to verify," said the woman picking up the phone before you could even say anything.

"Mr.Kuroo? You mean my husband."

"Your husband?"

"Yes, my husband. (DN)'s father," You simplified, hoping the words would sink into her seemingly thick skull.

"Yes, hello?" Kuroo answered the phone, confused. He had (DN)'s school saved in his phone, but they never called him before.

"Hi, Mr.Kurro, I'm sorry to bother you. I know you're a busy man," the woman said apologetically, her tone and demeanor changing as soon as Kuroo answered the phone. She even had the gall to twirl the phone cord like a lovesick teenager. It made your blood boil. "I just wanted to let you know there is a woman here claiming to be (DN)'s mother."

"That's my wife," Kuroo answered easily, knowing you were heading to the daycare straight after work. "Is there a problem?"

The worker was a bit stunned, her view of the man changing instantly, she didn't know he was married, how embarrassing. "No sir, not at all," She replied, stuttering out a bit towards the beginning.

"Good. Please refer any further calls or concerns to my wife, please," Kuroo said before immediately hanging up the phone, needing to get back to his meeting.

"Yes, sir," the employee responded despite the lack of your husband on the call.

The woman looked up to you, mouth slightly ajar as if she was about to say something, but nothing passed her lips. Before she could say anything, hopefully, apologize for her behavior (DN) made her appearance.

"Mommy!" exclaimed your daughter's voice as soon as she saw you. Leaving the grasp of the other, more likable employee, she ran towards you, wrapping her small arms around both your legs.

"Hi, sweetheart!" You exclaimed, matching the child's energy, sinking to her level to wrap her in your arms. "How was your day?" You questioned, taking the time to glare at the lady who dared to question your role in your daughter's life.

"It was great! I went outside with my friends, and we read that book that you and daddy read me at bedtime." said the girl. "I even got to point at the pictures for the rest of the class."

"That sounds lovely, baby." You said, standing up and taking your daughter's hand. "Why don't you tell me the rest on the way home?"

"Can we stop for ice cream?"

"Did you get a green sticker today?" You asked, walking towards the exit of the building.

"I got gold!" Your daughter corrected the pride evident in her voice.

"Whoa, a gold! I think that calls for extra toppings."

"Yes!"

In a sickly sweet tone, you turned back to the unkind worker and said, "You have a good day."

You spent the rest of your day spending time with your daughter. After getting ice cream, you two went to the park for a bit and then home to get her cleaned up and ready for dinner. You cooked a meal both of you enjoyed to cheer you up and keep (DN)'s spirits high, though that was rarely a problem.

At bedtime, Kuroo called as promised and listened to your daughter rave about her day. You two read her to sleep, per usual.

Now it was just you and your husband, and now you were ready to talk about the altercation at the daycare. You had filled your husband in a bit via text, but it was nothing like a good old rant.

"It was fucking ridiculous! She's my daughter!" You yelled, pacing the large room you and Kuroo shared."I shouldn't have to explain myself to her. Who does she think she is?"

"I know, darling I think she was just trying to make sure you weren't trying to abduct a child," Kuroo tried to reason to calm you down.

"Bullshit. The other worker verified me. I'm on the emergency contacts list. They have my picture!" You explained, listing off the reasons why what the worker did was disrespectful and honestly unprofessional.

"Do you know what I think it is?" You rhetorically asked.

"What's that, love?"

"I think she likes you. She was obviously flirting during that call earlier."

Kuroo, genuinely not knowing this information asked, "Was she?"

"Yes! Blatantly so. She wasn't even trying to hide it, and I was right in front of her. Me! Your wife!" You shouted, trying to piece together what the woman was thinking, but it was honestly giving you a slight headache. "Did she not see the ring on my finger? The ring on your finger? The audacity of that bit-"

"Alright, alright, hey, calm down."

"Uh, it's just so upsetting," You said, mood going from anger to dejected. "Am I not in (DN)'s life enough? Do I need to do more?"

Kuroo sat up in his chair, staring at the phone as if he could see you. He should've video called you instead. "Hey, don't talk like that; you do plenty," Kuroo said firmly. "I just so happen to be the one who drops her off and picks her up. That's just how our schedules work. We're both busy, love."

"I know. You're right," You agreed, not being able to deny how busy you two are. "Maybe I should start doing drop off or pick up," You suggested. "I'm her mother, and they need to know that."

"I'm sure they do by now," Kuroo teased. "We'll talk more about this when I get home, okay."

You groaned, realizing he wouldn't be home until the end of the week."Can't you come home now?" I need you after such a rough day."

"I wish I could. I do," Kuroo said sadly. He really did wish he could be there for you right now. He'd prefer being in bed with you over some hotel room any day. "You know I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Yeah, I know."

You two sat in silence for a bit, both of you too tired to carry out much of a conversation. However, just the knowledge that both of you were on the phone was enough.

After a while, Kuroo spoke up."Go get you some beauty sleep," he said, knowing you would need the rest. "I'll call you in the morning."

"Fine," You sighed. "I love you."

"I love you too."

----------

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading this imagine as much as I enjoyed writing it. This was so much longer than I originally intended but I won’t complain because I love how it turned out in the end. And honestly there’s no such thing as too much Kuroo. Feel free to let me know what you guys think!

Lots of Love <3

[silverjirachi]

maybe controversial opinion but i saw another post that mentioned it, but it wasn’t the main focus of the post and i think it deserves its own mention-

sometimes you do need to handle your triggers on your own, and it is never the burden or responsibility of any other person on this earth to tag things for you.

im gonna elaborate- in spaces like ao3, where the whole functionality of the website relies on a tag system.. yes, tag content. tag triggering content especially. if someone fails to do those things, you can block them, unfollow them etc. you personally can and should be taking steps to curate your online experience.

however-

with the amount of people i just see throwing a laundry list of triggers on their carrd or bio and asking any mutual to remember to tag them, i feel as if the general attitude is shifting to take the emphasis away from healing and self-improvement.

i went through a good half of my college experience with “weird triggers” that would send me into panic attacks. i could not walk around asking every person on earth to tag “art history” or a whole building on campus. (yes, one of my triggers was the presence of an entire fucking building and i avoided that whole area of campus). i could not ask people to just not talk about ~buildingname~ hall or ~artmakingclass~ because it was a real place that people were yknow having class in every day.

when you have triggers, sometimes you will be triggered. it is impossible and actually very unhealthy to block out every single instance of that triggering thing known to man. that is why finding strategies to cope is important, that is why self care is important, that is why getting help and finding a support system is important.

if you constantly expect others to avoid certain topics around you, or be perfect in remembering your triggers, you are only doing damage to yourself. i was at my worst mental healthwise when my main focus was on avoidance, and while it IS important to reduce exposure for a time and keep yourself from deliberately triggering yourself, sometimes you need to put in the work of managing your triggers on your own.

if you know you will be in an area where that trigger is common, it is okay to want to reduce damage and remove yourself from that situation. it is okay to walk out of a showing or a movie. it is okay that i avoided that end of campus for awhile, but i couldn’t block it out completely, and expecting others to do the same for me was wrong. it is okay to want to reduce acute damage the trigger may cause, but the reality of living with trauma is that you need to have a long term survival plan, and avoidance is not a sustainable strategy.

big common things, like dark subjects, are easy to tag because they can be triggering for a lot of people. thats why some shows and things nowadays *do* have trigger warnings for those kinds of things. but while i can expect to go some places (and be thankful!) when people warn for things like violence, i can’t expect to be warned about every instance of say, the name emma. and i can’t anticipate others even knowing that because it’s such a specific and obscure trigger, and having to deal with so many triggers that were everyday objects taught me a lot about trauma and healing, honestly.

and even with the common and violent triggers, sometimes people aren’t perfect. sometimes people forget. sometimes the threshold for what someone considers triggering is different for someone else, and that is going to vary person to person. sometimes people are huge assholes and want to shock people. and while warning for common triggers is considerate and should be normalized, it isn’t inherently owed. because this isn’t like a “gotcha stay triggered snowflakes” it’s just that it’s literally impossible to filter life. people forget. people mess up. things slip through the cracks and sometimes life is just well.. triggering.

anyways, those are some thoughts. take care of yourselves out there

[write-orflight]

Settle Down: Chapter 4

**Gif Not Mine**

Prev -  Next

Pairings: SpencerXReader (kinda enemies to lovers)  

Rating: M

Words: 2.5K

Warnings: Smut!! (Oral, male receiving. Sexual conduct. language.)

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

Summary:   Y/N and Spencer don’t get along but turn to each other for the one   thing you need someone else for… A baby. You can plantonically start a   family, right?

AN: Unedited because I was scrambling to finish before work. Comment on this chapter or inbox to be on taglist. thanks! much love, Cia.

                Chapter 4: Frozen, fuck you.

Misfortune came in the form of spots in your underwear the following week. You weren’t pregnant despite your best efforts. You took a personal day because of how bummed you were feeling, assuring Hotch that you could do your job from home. So you spent your morning eating terribly and reviewing the files Garcia sent you. Once you finish all your work for the day, you curl up on the couch with a pint of ice cream, bourbon and National Geographic. You’re hours in when you get a knock at your door. You stumble over and open it to reveal Spencer. He looks at you concerned as you very drunkenly head back to your couch, leaving the door open indicating you were inviting him in. He closes the door behind him looking at you concerned. 

“Have you been drinking?” 

“Wow, is this why they say you’re good at your job?” You say, rolling your eyes. 

“Y/N, should you even be drinking? You might be—“ 

“Did you know elephants are pregnant for almost 2 years?” You say pointing at the TV. “Why am I even asking? You know everything.” 

“Do you wanna tell me what’s got you so upset?” Spencer says, kneeling in front of your perch on the couch. 

“Did you know it’s very difficult for female pandas to become pregnant?” You say, you feel your eyes becoming wet but you blink back the tears. “That makes two of us.” You shrug. 

It clicks for Spencer in that moment. “You’re not…” he asks. You shake your head. 

“Spencer, I’m sorry. Maybe you should ask someone else. Maybe someone without a broken uterus.” 

“Y/N, there’s nothing wrong with you.” He says, cupping your cheek with his hand. You can’t help but nuzzle back into it. “I went to the doctor with you. Just because it didn’t happen this time doesn’t mean it won’t happen. Not everyone gets pregnant their first time trying.” 

“But people not trying at all end up pregnant the first time. What’s wrong with me?” The tear that’s been threatening the whole time finally falls down your cheek. Spencer swipes his thumb across it, looking sympathetically at you. 

“We can just try again next month, Y/N. We’ve got time, ok?” He says, you nod. 

“Thank you, Spencer.” You say. 

“No problem. Now come on, lay down.” He says, sitting down on the end of the couch and pulling you down to lay down onto his lap. “And stop watching National Geographic if it’s making you sad. We can even watch that movie with the talking toys if you want?” 

“All three?” 

“God, there’s three?!” 

———————————————

The following weeks are pretty uneventful. You guys caught murders and went to bars afterwards. You were in one bar after a particularly hard case with the team sans Spencer and Hotch when Derek asked you. 

“Ok, apparently you swore my girl to secrecy but I have to know.” He says to you from across the booth. “What is happening between you and Pretty Boy?” 

You throw a pointed look at Garcia, who just looks at you guiltily. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Morgan.” 

Emily chimes in at that. “Please! Before the two of you would either never talk or when you would, it’d end in an argument. Now suddenly he’s calling you on cases, not interrupting you when you’re presenting--” 

“Maybe, he just finally got some sense.” You interrupt. 

“See, I would say that too.” Emily says. “If he hadn’t asked me where to get that korean tea you like so much.” 

You knew what she was talking about. When you found out you weren’t pregnant and came back to work. You were still hopped up on extra hormones so when you went to make your favorite tea that morning and realized you had forgotten to get more so you were out. When you saw that, you started crying softly. You just wanted tea. Spencer walked in at that moment and you wiped your face furiously so he wouldn’t see the evidence of your tears before speeding out of the kitchen. The next day you walked into the kitchen, expecting to have to make shitty coffee instead, but there was a new box of your tea. You didn’t think much of it. You assumed Garcia got you the box. 

“He probably just wanted it for himself. The box has been feeling a little light lately.” You lie. “I’m serious though. Nothing’s going on.” We just have really hot sex in hopes of him impregnating me. You think. Everyone let’s it go at that point, changing the subject. You were thankful for that. 

——————————————-

The day came around again and Spencer wordlessly just got in your car after you guys’ shift and you didn’t question it, you knew the drill this time around. Spencer hums along to your music playing in the car. You look at him confused. 

“You know California Dreamin’?” You ask. 

“I uh-I heard you tell Garcia about how you liked The Mamas and Papas so I listened to some of their songs. I thought it’d help me understand you more.” 

You don’t turn towards him. You keep your eyes focused on the road so he wouldn’t see the marshmallow soft look that crossed your face. “Did you learn anything?” You ask. 

He clears his throat. “You listen to a lot of soft melodic music. I wouldn’t have thought that considering how you are.” 

“And how am I, Spencer Reid?” 

“Opinionated, loud.” You narrow your eyes at that one but say nothing. “Yet you listen to soft love songs, your favorite movie is Wizard of Oz and you watch nothing but Disney movies in your spare time. You’re not as scary as you think you are.” He says, getting out of the parked car. You speed out the car after him immediately. 

“I’m plenty scary!” You say as the two of you enter your house. 

“Uh-huh, and which Disney movie are we watching tonight?” 

“Frozen, fuck you.” You say leaving behind a laughing Spencer to go take your ovulation test. 

After discovering you were in fact ovulating you went to the living room to put on Frozen. You were about halfway into the sister’s adventure when you asked. 

“Spencer?” You asked from your perch laying on his shoulder. He turns his head down towards you, humming inquisitively. “Emily told me it was you who got my tea.” 

“I did.” He says. 

“Why?” 

He shrugs. “It was upsetting you.” he says, like it’s obvious. 

“I mean, I was upset I was out, sure but it’s not your job to make sure I’m not upset.” 

“It’s specifically my job to do that, Y/N.” He says, turning so he can look you in the eyes. “Y/N, you’re literally about to be the mother of my child. That makes your happiness just as important as this child’s happiness. I’m going to take care of both of you so if buying a 10 dollar box of tea is what will make you happy, I have no issues doing so.” 

The look he gives you is so sincere and your heart flutters when he says it. You don’t know why but you’re suddenly bombarded with thoughts of kissing him and before you can stop yourself you do just that. Spencer hums in shock for a second. But quickly deepens the kiss, tongue tracing over yours. You moan slightly as his hands come up to cup your face. Eventually, the two of you separate, gasping for breath in the small space between you. 

“What was that for?” He says. 

You couldn’t say the real reason that you kissed him was because you wanted to, so bad. It would make things awkward and ruin what was an amazing plan. You needed to remember that you were doing this for the end goal, a child.

“I’m ovulating, so I figured we should start now.” You say. It was only half a lie. 

Spencer looks slightly disappointed for a second before he shakes it off. He stands and grabs your hand tugging you towards the bedroom wordlessly. Once inside, his mouth is on yours again. You smirk against his lips, hands going for each other’s respective clothes. Once undressed he deposits you on the bed, settling into the space between your legs. He’s leaving open mouth bruises on your neck and chest as his hands travel down your body. You stopped him, it wasn’t that you didn’t want that, but you had other plans. 

He looks at you confused for a second. A look that’s replaced completely with wanton desire when you start trailing a hand up and down is underwear clad length. You watch his eyes flutter shut for a second, relishing in the feeling. You smirk at that. You lean up to speak in his ear. 

“I want to ride you.” You say, you feel Spencer’s member twitch in your palm as you say it. “Can I?” 

Spencer nods fast, moving off of you to lay flat on his back. He goes to take off his underwear but you stop him, wanting to do it yourself. You tugged them down his body and as you crawled your way back up you found yourself face to face with a certain predicament. An intrusive thought pops in your head and before you can stop yourself you ask. 

“Can I?” You whisper, you didn’t finish the question but your face was right next to his dick so you figured he’d get the gist. 

“You don’t have to.” Spencer says, though his dick betrays his words as it violently twitches when you bring your mouth slightly towards it. 

“I know.” You whisper before taking the head into your mouth. You hear Spencer hiss above you as you let your tongue swerve over the head. You moan, taking him deeper into your mouth, hand covering what you couldn’t reach. You hear a strangled gasp above you and opt to look up. Nothing could’ve prepared you for that sight. Spencer’s head was thrown back, face and neck flushed and he was biting on his fist to keep from making too much noise. Spencer was always so complimentary of you during these times and you realized you never said what you thought,  that the man above you was beautiful. You still held your tongue though. It was preoccupied anyway. After sometime, Spencer’s hand cups the side of your face, moaning softly as he feels his member through your cheek. He gently pulled you off of him. 

“I need to be inside you.” He says. “Now.”  

You nod, crawling back up his body to straddle his lap. Spencer moves your hips so you’re right above him, allowing you to sink down on his length. The two of you groan at first contact, Spencer gives you a second to adjust, massive hands circling your waist as you rocked yourself back and forth in his lap. You already felt close despite the short amount of time. You look down at the man and he’s looking up at you with a glassy expression. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” He moans, hands tightening on your waist. “You look so hot like this, I’m not going to last long.” 

“Me neither.” You say, Spencer takes that moment to drift his hand to your clit, thumb drawing small circles on the bundle of nerves. You moan out loud, moving your hips faster as Spencer thrusts his hips up to meet yours. 

“Spencer, fuck, I’m gonna--” you cut yourself off with a moan. Spencer is thrusting up into you faster now. 

“Cum for me, baby.” He says, and as if you were waiting for permission, you release moaning Spencer’s names and expletives. Spencer rides you through it, moving your hips on top of him. Before you know it, you’re on your back and Spencer is thrusting back into you hard. You practically scream out as he sets a fast pace chasing his own release. 

“Fuck, you feel so good baby, I’m gonna- fuck.” He says as you feel him release inside you. He thrusts shallowly inside you, riding out his orgasm before pulling out. You wince slightly, lifting your hips so he can slide the pillow under you, knowing the drill by now. Spencer runs, his fingers through your hair, you hum pushing your head into him, like a cat. 

“You ok?” He whispers. “Do you need anything?” 

You shake your head. “Will you come sleep with me?” You ask. 

Spencer smiles softly at you. “Of course, Y/N.” 

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

A month passes and cold February winter turns to soft March spring. The weeks that pass are fairly uneventful. You work and come home to an unfortunately empty house. You and Spencer talk about not as much as before and hardly about anything not baby or work related. You could admit that the last time you guys had sex, some lines got blurred and you both needed space from each other to remember that this was still platonic. At least, that’s how you felt and though you never voiced it, Spencer seemed to understand that.

The team was out on a case when you realized. You and Garcia had been on video call with the team when you heard Derek say.    

“Woah, Oz. You look like death warmed over.” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m fine.” 

“She’s not fine.” Garcia butts in. “She’s been throwing up all morning.” 

“L/N, if you’re sick--” Hotch starts. 

“I’m not sick! I feel completely fine, I think I just had some chinese that didn’t sit right. I’ll be fine, can we focus on the case?” You plead, Hotch nods. You see Spencer looking at the screen wide eyed but you don’t understand why. 

“What did you find?” Hotch asks. 

“Ok, Sebastian Henry’s financial records were a little hard to go through. Everything looked pretty normal. So I did a little--” You gag for a second but manage to keep it down. “A little digging and found a s-secret account he’s been m-making large donations to a church that, through more digging, doesn’t exist--” Garcia is already there with the bucket which you snatch and empty your lunch in immediately. 

“We think it’s mafia.” Garcia says, grimacing at the sound of your vomiting. You lift up to see the team giving you empathic looks and Spencer with a deep thinking expression. 

“Great, Garcia, look into that more. And Y/N, go home.” Hotch says. 

“What? Hotch, I’m fine!” 

“And I wasn’t asking.” He says, in that authoritative voice that made you know he meant business. 

“Fine.” you grumble as he ends the call. 

You’re on the way home when you get a call from Spencer. 

“Spencer, what’s up? Does Hotch need me to go back in?” 

“Oh, uh-no.” He says. “Listen, I know you said you’d tell me if something was up but Penelope saying you’d been sick all morning is making me overthink and well, did you take a test?” He asked. 

You look up at that. The two of you had been so busy with cases and work that the one thing you had been waiting for had completely slipped your mind. 

You were late.  

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[ezrasarm]

Only You

Pairing: Frankie Morales x demi fem!reader

Word Count: 1.8K

Summary: Frankie stands up for you when Tom acts out of line.

Warnings: Conflict, Tom being a dick, swearing, ✨protective✨ Frankie, fluff

A/N: There seemed to be some interest in a continuation of More Than Friends and a thought popped into my head so here it is! This is set an undefined period of time after More Than Friends. If you would like to learn more about demisexuality there are some wonderful resources here at demisexuality.org and my inbox is always open if you’re curious …or you have HC ideas ...or just want to scream.  AH! I almost forgot to thank @dishonouringmycow for beta reading, helping me with ideas and the ‘plot a murder’ line!

[Masterlist]

“You’re a woman, right?” Tom says abruptly from across the table a few moments after the conversation seemed to have lulled itself to a pause. Taking a few moments to notice you were in fact the only apparent woman at the table for him to be addressing, you nodded.

“Last I checked, yeah.” You laugh, as Tom hunches over a little more to look down at his drink. 

“Can I get an opinion on something?” He asks, glancing up at you as he resettled his grip on the bottle between his hands. You give Frankie, who was sat next to you in the booth with an arm looped around your shoulders a subtly confused glance to see if he knew what this was about only to get a shrug in return.

“I’ll try my best,” you say as he reaches for his phone and places it in front of you to swipe between two photos. You didn’t exactly know who they were of, but you recognized what was happening immediately. Tom had talked your ears off about his wife’s affair at this point. He was obsessed and while you, Frankie and the rest of the guys had tried to be supportive at first, it was becoming more and more of a concern to you all. You had thought you would bring it up with him tonight when you saw him but when you got to the bar and he seemed fine- cheerful even, you thought maybe he had made some progress. Maybe you didn’t need to intervene. That was until you looked down at the phone.

“Tom,” You sigh, looking between the pictures of two men you had never seen before. The ones you assumed he suspected his wife was cheating on him with. “I’m not Molly.” You say with a sympathetic look in your eye when you look up at him again.

“Yeah, yeah, but if you had to choose.“ He said, waving away your comment to swipe between the two photos for you again. To choose? Choose what? Which one seemed most likely to wear flip flops instead of sneakers? Which one you would lend a quarter for a shopping cart at the grocery store? Which one you’d choose to help you plot a murder? You knew what he meant but you didn’t see how your answer would help, or if you even had an answer to give.

“I don’t know, they’re both good-looking I guess.” You shrug. 

“Just pick one.” He insists a little more forcefully than before. You knew he wasn’t always the happiest drunk but you had never seen him this way before and you weren’t a fan.

“I think there’s a lot more that goes into your wife’s decision to sleep with another man than appearances.” You interjected. You didn’t know Molly particularly well and you weren’t defending her but you knew Tom hadn’t been acting like much of a husband in recent years and who were you to blame if she went looking for affection elsewhere.

“You’re overcomplicating the question.” He groans in frustration. “Don’t worry about Frankie, he’s got thick skin. He knows you’re looking.” Looking? Looking at what exactly? The ceiling? The ground? The bottom of your glass in hopes that if you couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t see you and you might be able to drop the subject? You’d hardly noticed the way your hand squeezed Frankie’s a little tighter under the table much less if it was reassurance for him or yourself but you could feel your patience running thinner as what had started out as mild irritation morphed into sheer discomfort with the situation. 

“Tom, I know nothing about these people!” You scoff far more defensive than you had been before. You didn’t want to have to make up an answer but you were getting pretty darn close. You could understand aesthetically. Guy number one’s hair was nice to look at, guy number two had kind eyes, guy number one had a little bit of scruff that reminded you of Frankie, guy number two wore a Black Keys shirt that you liked. None of these things made you feel anything though. Not like Frankie did. But Frankie wasn’t the answer to the question Tom was pressing you with.

“No- Just at a glance, gut reaction, which one would you rather fuck?” He says and you’re not sure if your mouth drops from the shock of him asking you that point-blank or at the gall he would need to have had to ask you such a thing in front of your boyfriend but before you can even think to come up with an answer, Frankie steps in.

“Tom!” He snaps. “She doesn’t want to answer the question! Now back off.” He says quite firmly. Something you knew wasn’t easy for him given that he was a close friend and someone he looked up to. He thinks that should be the end of it but Tom is quick to try and wave it off as though Frankie was the one acting out of line.

“C’mon man! Let her speak for herself!“ He says, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in his seat a little more. 

“Tom, you’re drunk, you’re pissed off and you’re hurting but that does not give you the right to harass my girlfriend!” 

“Harass your girlfriend? All I did was ask her a question-”

“Her answer is not going to change what happened!” Frankie just shy of shouts, managing to turn a couple of heads from nearby tables. You realize now that the frustration that had been building up over Tom’s pity party for the past three months had been affecting Frankie as bad if not worse than it had you. “It’s not!” He reiterates a little quieter now as though trying to recover from his sudden outburst. “Your wife screwed another man. That fucking sucks but it’s not going to undo itself anytime soon. So I don’t know what you need to do to process that but you’ve gotta get this out of your system and figure out a game plan for what you’re gonna do next because you are making it harder and harder for us to feel sorry for you right now.” Frankie lets out a heavy sigh and a slight shake to his head when he brings the bottle that his grip had tightened on so much throughout the conversation that his knuckles had gone white, up to his lips.

You watch as Tom’s jaw ticks to the side and he smooths a hand over his face, a minuscule nod as his gaze drops to the table. The silence hangs thick in the air for what feels like an eon until Benny shoulders into the booth on the other side of you just about squishing you against Frankie who has since adopted a similar posture to Tom. 

“Who died?” He asks, tossing you a goofy look that makes a smile tempt your lips as you shake your head and Will slides in across the table from you. 

“No one.” You assure him as you graciously accept the fresh drink Will places in front of you. “Speaking of not dead... Anyone heard from Santiago recently? It’s been a while, he’s got me worried.” You say in an attempt to change the topic despite you and Frankie both knowing you had spoken to him hardly 24 hours ago. Your attention seems to slip away from the response though when Frankie’s hand squeezes your knee in a silent thank you and you let your face tug into a soft smile when you look up at him, content that you’ve successfully changed the topic and made it stick.

***

“I’m sorry,” You hear Frankie say from next to you as you make your way out the door armed with the excuse of having to work in the morning when in reality you could sense that you and Frankie both were getting a little tired of being social tonight. 

“For what?” You ask, brows furrowed in confusion as the cool air hits you and you plunge your hands into the pockets of your jacket.

“I’m sorry he was being such a jerk to you in there.” Frankie clarifies and you find yourself stopping halfway across the slowly emptying paring lot to turn and face him.

“He’s going through a lot right now.” You reply carefully, your exasperation from earlier having worn off by now only to leave the pity you had felt when he let his gaze drop after Frankie had told him off. 

“That’s not an excuse for his behaviour though.” Frankie insists and you nod. 

“Maybe not.” You muse. “But I know how much he means to you and I don’t want to get between that.” You shrug. “He needs you.” You say. “He needed to hear that from you.” You clarify, reaching your hand out to lock your fingers in his. Knowing Frankie he’s likely beating himself up over snapping at him like that already when you’re sure his conscience should be clear. He did everything right. “Thank you for standing up for me.” You smile on a lighter note and watch as a similar expression brightens up his features.

“You know I’ve always got your back, right?” He asks and you nod in return, hardly realizing the way your feet have managed to shuffle you closer to him as he dips his head down to kiss you. You can just about feel his breath fanning your upper lip when-

Bonk

The bill of his cap collides with your eyebrow and you both break out laughing, your hand bracing you on his arm as you hunch over in hysterics and you wind up stumbling slightly with the few drinks in you before you bump into his chest which still shakes as he holds you to him in an attempt to keep you both from toppling over. You’ve hardly recovered before he musters a “Is this better?” and you glance up to see the salt-stained cap placed backwards on his head instead which only makes you burst out laughing again as you flip it around to place it backwards on your own head. 

“I far prefer being able to do this anyway.” You hum through your persisting smile when you slide your hands up to tangle your fingers in his messy hair. 

“This is a good look for you.” He teases, eyelids lazy with contentment as his hands grip your hips and tug you just a little closer to him. 

“You’re a dork.” You beam with an amiable shake of your head “Let me kiss you.” You plea and he obliges. 

You pick Frankie.

[Masterlist]

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Frankie “Catfish” Morales Taglist: @rebelhan @thepjofanqueen

[rnelodyy]

C!Dream, the status quo, and why conflict is okay sometimes.

In this fandom, there is a lot of talk about conflict, who causes it, who avoids it, who is to blame for it, et cetera. An argument often heard from c!Dream apologists to justify his abysmal treatment of L’Manburg in general and c!Tommy in specific is “He was just trying to stop people causing conflict! He was protecting the server by stopping these conflict-causing maniacs!”

And it’s not hard to see where they get this idea from, because c!Dream repeats this sentiment a lot, from his “happy family” speech, to the speech during the final disc war about how c!Tommy causes constant conflict, to the fact that he always portrays himself as a reasonable authority figure trying to calm down these feral creatures always fighting with one another (and we’ll get to that idea…).

My reasoning for explaining how c!Dream’s worldview is deeply flawed may be a bit controversial, so I decided to write this essay to explore the following idea:

Sometimes, conflict is good actually.

(all /dsmp /rp, names refer to characters, not content creators)

Conflict, in itself, is morally neutral. It’s the context surrounding the conflict that allows us to ascribe morality to it. This fact makes this topic a LOT harder to discuss, because morality is subjective. What I’m writing here is all my own opinion, you may agree or disagree on some points, I just ask that you read it through and please don’t start shit over this.

Anyway, the context. It’s dependent on a number of factors.

Justification. Why was the conflict started?

Intent. What is the desired outcome for either party?

Proportionality. If the conflict is started out of revenge or punishment, is it proportionate to the wrong committed?

Power Dynamic. Is the person on the receiving end more, less, or equally as powerful as the person starting the conflict?

For example, let’s compare the L’Manburg War for Independence with the intervention during the Final Disc War.

Justification:

Dream declared war on L’Manburg because he saw them as traitors, and the land they occupied as rightfully his. Therefore, them making a country of their own where his rules didn’t apply was a violation of the status quo he wanted to uphold.

Punz and the others intervened because they didn’t want Dream to kill Tommy and/or Tubbo, and were tired of his constant meddling in their affairs.

Intent:

Dream’s intent was to attack L’Manburg until they surrendered, no matter how much hurt he’d cause or how many lives he’d take.

Punz and the other’s intent was to stop Dream from killing Tommy and Tubbo, and stop whatever plan he had to keep the server under control.

Proportionality:

L’Manburg declared independence in response to brutal violence as retribution for clumsy attempts at crime, on land nobody except Wilbur was using, were explicitly pacifistic and invited Dream to make an embassy in their land to discuss trade. Dream responded by declaring war, destroying their land, luring them into a trap and killing them, and continuing to beat them down until they surrendered.

Punz and the others intervened after Dream dragged two teenagers out into the wilderness to fight him, with little chance of them ever returning. This was after months of Dream’s meddling in conflicts he had nothing to do with, trying to control people’s actions, ripping Tommy away from his home and abusing him in secret and, in the end, destroying the place most synonymous with freedom from his rule. They intervened by getting Tommy and Tubbo to safety, letting Tommy (the kid who arguably suffered the most at Dream’s hands) take his items and beat him to death twice, then locking him up in prison.

Power Dynamic:

L’Manburg was significantly less powerful than Dream and his goons, with less skilled fighters and heavily inferior gear. They held their position fairly okay at the start, but after the Final Control Room, they were basically defenseless against Dream’s assault.

Dream had always had unprecedented power on the server. He’s leveled entire countries, crowns and dethrones kings when he feels like it, overruled the decision of a court of law, and in the end, had Tommy and Tubbo completely at his mercy before the intervention. Even beating Dream was seen as such an insurmountable task that it took fourteen people (excluding Clingyduo) to take him down.

The thing about conflict, even violent conflict, is that it’s not always negative. If your sister is being abused by her boyfriend and refuses to report it out of fear, you’re gonna be hard-pressed to find someone unable to sympathize with you if you go over to his house and break his nose.

What is a defining feature of conflict, is that it disrupts the status quo.

That’s not to say that some characters are always disruptors and others always preservers of the status quo. For example, during the Disc War, Tommy is the one trying to preserve and Dream the one trying to disrupt (the status quo being: Tommy owns the discs), and during the L’Manburg War for Independence, Tommy and Wilbur are disrupting while Dream is preserving (the status quo being: Dream has absolute power and the entire server needs to follow his rules).

It’s ALSO not to say that this disruption is always bad, because sometimes, the status quo fucking sucks, and throwing it on its head is the right thing to do. Overthrowing Schlatt is seen by everyone on the SMP and pretty much every fan as morally correct, as while Schlatt being president was the status quo, it meant he was ruling as a dictator, exiling his political opponents, imprisoning and heavily taxing dissenters, being verbally and physically abusive to his cabinet members, and forcing a guest at his festival to execute a sixteen year-old boy for spying for the political opponent he exiled.

Conflict being a genuinely good force of societal change isn’t usually brought up in the fandom though, at least not consciously. A lot of people, both on the server and IRL, see conflict only as a source of hurt and pain, and try to prevent or avoid it as much as possible.

And here’s where Dream differs from someone like Ranboo. Because while both Dream and Ranboo operate on the assumption that all conflict is bad all the time, Ranboo shows this by becoming conflict-avoidant to the extreme, to the point where he refuses to pick sides in pretty much any conflict, no matter how obviously good or evil one side is. Meanwhile, Dream shows this by becoming controlling to the extreme. Mitigating conflict isn’t enough, he needs to control everything to prevent all conflict ever.

In Ranboo’s case, this is less due to ideology and more due to personality. Ranboo is a deeply anxious person, and hates being in the middle of fights. He’s also… not very self-critical? He has issues with self-worth, but he very rarely takes a look in the mirror to inspect what it actually is he believes and says, making him very gullible and convinced of his own righteousness. But while that’s a VERY interesting character trait, Ranboo’s conflict-avoidance doesn’t make him a very good character to examine in the context of conflict and what it means.

So let’s look at Dream. Because, despite claiming to want to stop conflict, Dream CONSTANTLY starts conflicts or escalates existing ones. The L’Manburg War for Independence could’ve been entirely avoided if Dream hadn’t lashed out so heavily at a nation of pacifists who made their own area to avoid violence from authorities. As I explored in my George Vod Analysis, the griefing of George’s house would’ve been a lighthearted dispute between two people if Dream hadn’t taken over the entire thing and turned it into one of the biggest diplomatic crises in the server’s history. Mexican L’Manburg hadn’t even existed for an hour before Dream came by to kill its residents and destroy its land.

So why is Dream so focused on stopping conflict, despite constantly starting it himself? Why is THAT his hill to die on?

Simple. Dream wants to prevent disruptions to the status quo. That status quo being “Dream is the one in power and everyone has to listen to him.”

But you can’t say that out loud. If you say “everyone needs to listen to me otherwise it’s not fair”, you sound like a whiny five year-old at best, and a tyrant at worst. So, instead of saying that, Dream says “I just want to prevent conflict, keep the server peaceful.”

Remember what I said about one party being the disruptor and another being the preserver? Well, Dream’s status in the early days of the server is almost always preserver of the status quo. The only times he’s the disruptor is if disrupting that status quo serves to strengthen the status quo of him being in power. For example: Stealing Tommy’s discs is a disruption of the “Tommy’s discs are his and his alone” status quo, but strengthens the “Dream is the most powerful dude on the server” status quo, because the discs give him power over Tommy.

By fighting L’Manburg, he was trying to preserve the status quo, because having a government on the server meant he no longer had absolute power. Hell, REALLY early on, he decided to kill George and burn all his stuff because George had full diamond while everyone else was still running around in iron armor.

However, after L’Manburg’s independence, Dream’s focus shifted. Instead of preserving the status quo, he’d disrupt it in order to return to the status quo as HE wanted it, with no nations, and himself at the top.

But again, that wouldn’t look good. Making yourself the undisputed ruler of the entire server is not good for optics, so instead, Dream hides behind the excuse that he’s just trying to stop conflict, or seeking retribution for slights against his nation.

By this point, Tommy, the only person who CONSTANTLY refuses to bow to his demands, becomes his scapegoat. Tommy is loud, enjoys chaos and getting on people’s nerves, and causes, admittedly, a LOT of conflict. Lighthearted, non-serious conflict with very little actual consequences, but conflict nonetheless. It’s not hard for him to start smearing Tommy’s name, painting him as this feral child at fault for every conflict ever, mostly because a lot of people already believed something like that to be true.

The idea that Tommy is uniquely destructive or chaotic is complete bullshit. Tommy is definitely on the more chaotic side, but he’s not that much more chaotic or destructive than your average server member, he’s just really loud and annoying about it, which makes the things he DOES do stick out more. But Dream, especially during the Exile Conflict, continuously pushed the idea that Tommy is the only one creating conflict on the server, that Tommy is responsible for all conflict ever, and that without Tommy, everyone would be at peace.

And at some point… Dream started believing this himself.

His speech during the Final Disc War illustrates this perfectly. He tells Tommy that ever since he joined, there’s been nothing but war and terrorism and conflict, and that those originated from the attachments Tommy brought to the server. That, by cutting off his own attachments, exploiting everyone else’s, and getting rid of Tommy, he could restore the old status quo, before L’Manburg, before Tommy, when everything was peaceful and no conflict existed. Except, Tommy is too fun to fuck with, so instead of killing him, Dream was going to lock Tommy up in Pandora’s Vault, probably for the rest of his life, to continue breaking him.

This is a prime example of Dream falling for his own bullshit.

First of all, Tommy didn’t cause all those wars, he was actually on the receiving end of most of them. A vast majority of the wars and terrorism Tommy got caught up in were actually started by Dream, or Dream was actively helping the guy who started it.

Second, Tommy didn’t bring the concept of attachment to the server. He gets very attached to things, true, but attachment is a very basic part of the human condition. Even Dream, the guy openly shunning all attachment, isn't immune to it, in the end, he’s attached to the server as a whole, and Tommy, who he gave almost biblical importance in his narrative. Like Tommy said, if you have no attachment to things, why does anything matter at all?

Third, getting rid of Tommy and controlling the entire server with their attachments… that wouldn’t have restored the status quo, because the status quo exactly as Dream envisioned it never existed. He’s not chasing a past that was ruined by Tommy, he’s chasing an idealized fairytale version of the past where everyone was friends and frolicked around in the fields and there was never any conflict, before Tommy came along and ruined everything. Before Tommy joined, there was a SHIT ton of conflict, from minor disputes over theft, to the above-mentioned incident where Dream destroyed George’s stuff, to the lemon tree conflicts that wound up being taken to court!

Except, even this idea of Dream wanting to restore an idealized, made-up past is only partially true. What Dream is looking to return to and uphold is a world where he was the only authority and nobody questioned him. The status quo he wants to return to, no matter how much he denies it, is the one where everyone was at his mercy and he could do whatever he wanted without impunity. However, because he’s convinced himself that conflict is the issue, not disobedience, even if his plan succeeded, he’d have to keep the entire server in a chokehold to get them to follow his ideal plan.

Because conflict is inevitable. Anywhere where there’s two or more people sharing a space, you’re going to run into conflict at some point. People will have disagreements, they will fight, they will have miscommunications, they will have a bad day or accident and antagonize someone else.

Resolving these issues through conflict, whether it’s verbal, physical or legal, will result in a healthier community in the long run, because people’s pent-up frustrations will get an outlet, and people will try to hash out compromises or accommodations based on the reactions they get. It’s not always the ideal solution, but it’s better than just sitting everyone down, telling them to play nice, and smacking them over the back of the head as soon as they start complaining.

But conflict threatens the status quo. And as Dream involves himself in more and more conflict, they increasingly start threatening HIS status quo. So in order to maintain his status quo, conflict needs to be stomped out as soon as it crops up, no matter how minor it is.

So, now to paint a timeline through this lens.

Dream started off as the ultimate power on the server, able to do whatever he wanted without consequence. Tommy joined and threatened that status quo, but he was just one guy, so keeping him away and occupied wasn’t too hard. It was fun, even.

Then L’Manburg came, and posed the first substantial threat to Dream’s rule. Dream tried crushing this rebellion before it had a chance to take root, but in the end, Tommy traded his discs (the things Dream was using to control him) for L’Manburg’s independence. The status quo changed, L’Manburg was here to stay.

However, L’Manburg still posed a threat to Dream’s rule, so manipulating events to destroy it became Dream’s next priority. He supported Schlatt during the election in the hope he’d destabilize the nation, then sided with Pogtopia in secret to help overthrow the government, then helped Wilbur with the TNT to blow L’Manburg sky high, then betrayed Pogtopia for Schlatt’s side for the revival book. When Pogtopia won, Dream was egging Techno on through whispers to try to get him to go ape shit, so with Techno’s withers and Wilbur’s TNT, L’Manburg was gone, and the old status quo had been restored.

Except it hadn’t been. L’Manburg was rebuilt, with Tubbo at the helm this time, and a new status quo was put in place, with L’Manburg still there and still a threat. However, with Wilbur’s death, Tommy was left almost completely unprotected, and Dream took his chance to get Tommy thrown out of the country, hoping to get his biggest threat out of the way, as well as being able to sink his claws into the L’Manburg Cabinet.

Dream isolated Tommy in exile and tried to break him to the point where he wouldn’t put up any resistance. During this time, he also commissioned the prison, which he claimed to only be for the most dangerous members of the server, but is a pretty transparent attempt to enforce his rule by making a place where he can stick anyone who disobeys him. The server is slipping more and more out of his control, with more factions popping up and more people outright defying him, so like any dictator, he takes harsher and harsher measures to stay on top.

Tommy escapes exile, and while Dream is keeping tabs on him, he can’t directly control him anymore. So, to prevent Tommy from returning to L’Manburg and stopping his plans at disrupting the status quo, he blows up the community house, frames Tommy for it, and goes to Tubbo to demand Tommy’s disc, the only reason destroying L’Manburg was disadvantageous for him. Tommy jumps in to defend himself and takes L’Manburg’s side, but in the end, Dream takes both the discs, then destroys L’Manburg with Techno.

By this point, the status quo Dream wanted to craft is almost complete. L’Manburg is gone, there are no other major factions threatening his rule, and he’s pretty much set a precedent for what happens to dissenters. All he needs to do now is get rid of Tommy.

Except he can’t kill him. Over time, Dream has become obsessed with Tommy, to the point where he’s started seeing Tommy as the lynchpin of the server that everyone else gravitates around. Tommy is almost a living MacGuffin: he brings chaos and attachment which gives him power, but in the right hands, that power can be harnessed to create order.

(This is absolute nonsense of course, Tommy is just A Guy, his presence itself doesn’t create chaos, and controlling him doesn’t mean controlling the entire server because a lot of people just plain don’t give a shit.)

So instead of killing him, Dream tries to put him in prison. He even outright says that he wants to finish what he started in exile, this time with even tighter control and no possibility for escape.

He goes to kill Tubbo for multiple reasons: Tubbo is no longer useful to him, Tubbo can be used as leverage to keep Tommy compliant in prison (the possibility to revive someone’s best friend is a pretty valuable bargaining chip), and Tubbo would absolutely raise hell if Dream threw his best friend in jail for no reason.

If Dream had gotten his way, he’d be able to blackmail everyone on the server into compliance. Tommy, his scapegoat, would’ve been in prison, so now without a scapegoat, he could’ve probably gone one of two ways.

He could’ve created a new scapegoat to blame all new conflict on. Quackity would’ve been a good candidate, he’s VEHEMENTLY anti-Dream, and would’ve had no qualms about starting shit with him. Whether it was with El Rapids or with Las Nevadas, Quackity would’ve been the biggest anti-Dream voice in Tommy’s absence. So c!Dream would keep Quackity around, blaming him for everything that goes wrong… Until Quackity would get too uppity and either gets murdered or put in jail with Tommy, and the cycle repeats until either people rise up, or everyone who isn’t completely subservient is in prison.

Or, he could’ve cracked down EVEN HARDER on conflict. Anyone creating a new nation gets stomped into the dirt, anyone fighting over resources gets murdered, anyone squabbling over griefed property gets thrown in prison for weeks at a time, all the while their property and pets that they care about more than anything else get dangled in front of their noses. Anyone who’s ever read any more than five pages about the dynamics of dictatorships can see that this kind of repression is basically ASKING for revolution, especially since Dream has shunned all friendships at this point and his only ally is only there because Dream pays him.

(this is all speculation, we don’t know what would’ve actually happened, dont yell at me)

The status quo Dream is trying to return to never existed, and the one he creates in the process isn’t sustainable. Stopping every conflict ever is completely unsustainable and detrimental to the larger community, which Dream knows, because he uses conflict CONSTANTLY to get his way, while still presenting himself as a peacekeeper. What he’s really against is disruptions of the status quo, because the status quo allows him to do whatever he wants and control the server as much as he wants.

Conflict isn’t inherently bad. Some conflicts are harmless, some are necessary disruptions of the status quo. Conflict itself is morally neutral, and trying to prevent all conflict ever leads into some… iffy territory. Remember when Ranboo yelled at the L’Manburgians for participating in conflict the day before Doomsday?

Anyway. Please examine situations with more nuance than “conflict bad”, it’ll make for much better analysis. Trust me. /nm

[beautiful-and-terrible]

dazed ‘n’ confused (part 4)

A/N: just a quick chapter for you guys before i have to put this story on the back burner :( i have an annual essay coming up in school that i gotta focus on. anyway, hope you like the gangs drunk shennanigans

Ship: Rodrick Heffley / OFC

Warnings: underage drinking / drug use, inebriated driving (DONT DRIVE DRUNK KIDS THIS IS A FICTIONAL STORY DONT BE STUPID :) )

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“If we get caught, my mom’ll kill me,” Rodrick groaned.

“Let’s bounce,” Nicole said, untangling herself from him and grabbing his hand as they ran further into the back yard, looking for an escape route.

“I’ll boost you,” Rodrick said, gesturing to the fence. Nicole nodded, not thinking of a better plan, and wanting to get out of there as fast as possible. She stepped into the make-shift step Rodrick made with his palms, and as she swung a leg over the fence, he pushed her the rest of the way. It wasn’t the most graceful execution, and she ended up landing on her ass with a grunt of pain.

Rodrick also clumsily made his way over the fence - both of them being drunk and high didn’t help their coordination much. “Sorry, are you good?” Rodrick said, clutching his shin, and Nicole waved him off.

“It’s fine, let's just get to the van.”

“Oh, fuck, the van!” Rodrick hissed, “The pigs are totally gonna know it’s mine.” With a big fucking stupid band name written on the side, Nicole reckoned he was right - it was pretty easy to identify, even without the plates.

“I can drive, don’t worry,” Nicole said, already starting toward the white van, creeping between other cars on the street.

“Nikky, you’re as trashed as I am, no way am I letting you drive.”

“Trust me, hot Rod,” Nicole said, slipping her hand into his front pocket and pulling out his keys before he could even blink. As they approached his van, Chris and Ben appeared in the shadows next to them, whispering excitedly as they spotted them.

“As soon as we saw the lights we bolted,” Ben snickered, but Chris looked concerned.

“Yo, I hope Caitlin doesn’t get arrested. There was a lotta booze in there,” he muttered, and Ben smacked his arm.

“You whipped, dude?”

Chris scoffed, “No, I would just feel bad for anyone in that sitch.”

“I agree,” Nicole said, feeling guilty that she couldn’t help Caitlin get out of trouble.

“C’mon, let’s fucking go,” Rodrick said, and all at once the four of them dashed to the van. Nicole jumped in the driver's seat, shoving the key in the ignition with some fumbling, and peeling out from their parking spot across the street from Caitlin’s house with enough force to make even Rodrick proud.

“We’ll make a NASCAR driver out of you yet, Nikky,” Rodrick laughed, whooping as he leaned his head out the window like a dog, the night air tangling through his hair. Ben scrambled up to the front seat from the back of the van, fiddling with the radio before he settled on a station playing “Where Is My Mind” by Pixies. Nicole turned up the volume to its top capacity, concentrating on the road lines in front of her. The adrenaline of avoiding the cops had sobered her up a little, but she was still feeling paranoid from the weed and drowsy from the beer. She drove as slowly as she dared so as not to seem suspicious. 

“Thanks for being our getaway driver, Nicole,” Chris said, his words slurring a little more than she had noticed previously. She looked back and saw him chugging a beer in the back.

“Dude, don’t fucking drink while I’m driving! We’re already in deep shit as it is,” Nicole said, turning on to the main street of downtown Plainview. Just a few more turns and they’d be home.

“You’re deep in something, alright,” Ben cackled, and he and Chris high-fived.

“Yeah, six inches deep in your mom,” Nicole shot back, and Rodrick let out an “ooooooo”, pointing at Ben, “Gotcha, bitch.”

Eventually, by some miracle, they made it to Nicole’s street. She hit the curb as she pulled up in front of her and Rodrick’s house, causing all three boys to shriek in unison. Nicole dissolved into giggles, both in relief of finally being out of danger and in reaction to the boys high-pitched screams of indignation.

“She’s an antique, Nikky!” Rodrick said, jumping out of the van to stumble to the front and assess the damage.

“Oh, I’m fine, by the way,” Nicole snarked, and Rodrick suddenly looked at her intensely, giving her a slightly blurry-eyed up-and-down look. 

“Fine as hell,” he muttered, loud enough for her to hear, and she blushed, biting her lip to keep from smiling too widely.

“Rodrick, can we crash at your place,” Ben asked, Chris making puppy dog eyes at him.

“Me too - I don’t wanna wake my parents up. Our front door is creaky as shit,” Nicole said.

Rodrick sighed loudly, as if he were being asked to do something terribly inconvenient. 

“Yeah, fine. Y’all want mac and cheese?”

The four of them, all drunk and high as kites, looked at each other and nodded in perfect synchronicity. 

As quietly as they could for four fucked up teenagers, they snuck their way into Rodricks kitchen. He pulled out a four pack of Kraft Mac and Cheese microwave cups from the pantry, filling them all with way too much water and sticking all four of them, at the same time, in the microwave.

“Dude, can I eat this beef jerky?” Chris asked, rummaging through the pantry.

“They’re my dads,” Rodrick said, as if that offered an explanation. “If you wanna explain to him why they’re gone, knock yourself out.”

Chris slowly put the bag back, looking put out.

Nicole stood next to Ben, both of them leaning on the kitchen counter. Nicole looked over at him, and he looked back, giving her a little smile. He wasn’t bad looking, but where as Rodrick was endearing because he tried to seem cool and really wasn’t, Ben had an effortless coolness about him.

“Thanks for coming with us tonight, Ben,” Nicole said. The alcohol must be making her feel emotional. After all, they had only just met today.

“Aww, Nikky, of course! I never pass up an opportunity for debauchery,” Ben said, giving her shoulder a squeeze. He pronounced debauchery like “de-booch-ery”, but Nicole was too drunk to catch the mistake. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Rodrick glaring at Ben. Dumbass, he has no reason to be jealous, Nicole thought to herself, and gave him a little reassuring wave by wiggling her fingers in his direction.

“Yo, be careful on this mac, its fucking hot,” Rodrick said, pulling the cups out of the microwave. They still had water in them, and the cheese powder wasn’t fully mixed in, but in the moment it was the most delicious thing Nicole had ever tasted.

“Should we watch a movie?” Ben suggested, and Chris bounced on his toes excitedly.

“Killer Clowns from Space!! Pleeeaaaase! You’ve been promising me for weeks now that we’d watch it.”

Ben sighed, Rodrick rolled his eyes, but Nicole had no opinion on the subject, so she made the executive decision to say, “I’m down.”

Ben and Rodrick both groaned, and Chris gave her a fist bump from across the kitchen island.

“Nikky has taste, sorry guys,” Chris said, looking very smug as he slurped his luke-warm mac and cheese.

They all somehow stumbled up to Rodrick’s room - Nicole belatedly realized she had been dreaming about being in his room for weeks, and now that she was here took the time to really appreciate what was in front of her.

A person’s room can tell you everything you need to know about them. For one, Rodrick was messy, but no more messy than any other average teenage boy. Clothes on the floor and the back of his desk chair, thrown haphazardly over a bean-bag in the corner of the room. There were christmas lights strung from the ceiling, both white and rainbow, that gave the room a cozy vibe that Nicole would’ve never expected from Rodrick.

His walls were mostly covered in band posters, and above his desk there was a cork board littered with tickets of concerts he had been to. Nicole almost seethed with jealousy at the sheer amount and quality of concerts he had been to - Leftover Crack, Pleasure Venom, Less than Jake, and one of Nicole’s personal favorites, Mannequin Pussy.

“You like Mannequin Pussy?” Nicole said, whipping her head around to look at Rodrick. 

“That's not the only kind of pussy he likes,” Ben hollered, causing Chris to smack him upside the head.

“There's a lady present, dumbass,” Chris said, and Ben raised his hands in surrender.

“I think you mean that’s the only kind of pussy he gets,” Nicole said, throwing a teasing wink toward Rodrick, who blushed bright red.

“Yeah, they’re good. Romantic is my favorite album,” Rodrick said, scratching the back of his neck self consciously. Ben and Chris started making kissing noises in his direction, and Rodrick threw a pillow at them.

As Chris and Ben fought over who would set up the projector, Nicole let her snooping instincts take over, looking at the other miscellaneous things Rodrick had around his room - empty liquor bottles filled with more lights, a surprising amount of books (mostly graphic novels), a lava lamp filled with miniature rubber ducks, and mushroom paraphernalia. Everywhere. His pillowcases, the tapestry above his bed, and the stickers on his water bottle all had holographic or brightly colored mushrooms on them. She was so absorbed in her investigation she didn’t even notice Rodrick next to her until he spoke.

“Committing it to memory? You might never be in here again,” Rodrick said with a small smirk. Nicole gave him a look out of the corner of her eye.

“I wouldn’t count on it, babe,” Nicole said boldly. She felt the warmth of Rodrick’s hand on her hip, and looked up at him. And his lips. She wanted to kiss him again so badly it was like a drug, her body telling her to get her next fix as quickly and as often as possible. Being in his space, the place he let himself be his most authentic self, was very intimate, even with Chris and Ben still arguing in the corner.

Rodrick looked away shyly, squeezing her hip once before turning back to the boys. Chris had evidently lost the rock-paper-scissors match to set up the movie on the projector, and was adjusting the screen on the far wall of Rodrick’s room, trying to find a website to pirate the movie from.

“If we’re gonna watch this shit let’s do it,” he said, settling himself in the beat up reclining chair he had, arms above his head. He should be illegal, Nicole thought to herself, making herself comfortable on the bed.

Which ended up being a mistake, because 20 minutes into the movie, Nicole was asleep. She felt a blanket being gently placed over her before she was dead to the world.

[sithsecrets]

beside one another | din djarin x reader

The hunt for a quarry takes the Mandalorian and his crew member to a fancy hotel in Canto Bight. The two lie beside one another under the cover of darkness, and the meaning of home comes into sharp focus.

---

3.3k words

Mentions: typical rich people bullshit, people are a little scared of din, a little bit of pining, “there’s only one bed!”, sharing clothes, NO SMUT

---

When Mando tells you that the next quarry’s hiding out in Canto Bight, you can’t help how excited you sound when you ask how long you’ll be staying. He’s his usual stoic self, even in the face of your curiosity, but you do detect a hint of annoyance in his voice as he tells you not to get excited.

“But it’s Canto Bight!” you declare, and the baby echoes your tone by cooing brightly on your hip. “It seems so glamorous!”

“You’ll feel differently once we get there,” Mando states, and then he’s punching coordinates into the navigation system, seemingly done discussing the matter. You buckle into the passenger seat with the baby, settling him on your lap so he gets a good view through the windshield during takeoff. He loves this part for some reason, despite all the rattling and the noise, and he squeals in utter joy like you thought he would.

“At least someone’s excited,” you declare, teasing the Mandalorian for being so grumpy. The man himself says nothing to this, but you’re too pleased with yourself and the prospect of visiting a new place to care.

Before Mando hired you to be his one and only crew member, you’d never really left the Tatoo System. Sure, you’d made a quick trip to here and there, visited a moon or two in your time, but never anything of substance. New places are your favorite thing to collect right now, and you can’t wait to cross Cantonica off your list. You heard stories of Canto Bight when you were little, saw a few holograms of the opulent streets— you can’t wait to see it all in person, even if Mando’s not excited in the slightest. You’re sure it’s different for him, all the traveling and the going to places he’s never been, but the novelty hasn’t worn off for you yet.

The journey to Cantonica is a short one, and before you know it, the Crest is touching down in a sleek, high-class receiving hangar. The landing coordinator sounds like a snob over the comm, making more than one comment about the state of the Crest. But the tone shifts completely once you, Mando, and the baby emerge from the ship, all of the personnel suddenly very accommodating. You’re used to seeing people (the smart ones, anyway) regard Mando with equal parts respect and fear, but this is just excessive. Someone ushers you and the baby out of the sun and into a small office, rushing to offer you a cool drink, and the foreman himself comes out to talk business. The content of he and Mando’s conversation is lost on you, though you do get to watch them talk through a little window.

(Later, you’ll learn that the man let Mando park the Crest here for a fifth of the usual price, but this won’t come as surprise by the time you find out.)

Mando hails a cruiser for the three of you, and then you’re zooming across the dessert on your way to Canto Bight. As the sun slips lower and lower in the sky, the lights of the city become brighter and brighter on the horizon, stoking your excitement. Mando’s minding the baby, so you get to fully enjoy the ride, taking in all you can as the vehicle flies over the sand. Within minutes, sand becomes grass, grass becomes pavement, and then you’re in Canto Bight proper, surrounded on all sides by wealth and luxury. The driver drops the three of you off in front of a grand hotel, and then he’s off without a word, speeding away to pick up another fare.

You, Mando, and the baby make your way inside, and you’re immediately blindsided by the realization that this hotel isn’t a place for you, not really. The interior, much like the building’s exterior, is more opulent than any other building you’ve ever been to, but it’s the people that make you feel like you’re a stain on their carpet. Every single being in the lobby, human or alien, is made up in the galaxy’s finest fabrics and most expensive jewels. They glitter and gleam in the light, and your casual, comfortable clothes looks like rags in comparison. A ball of nervous, self-conscious energy forms in your stomach, the anxiety only made worse by the fact that all eyes are on you. Well, all eyes are on Mando, as they so often are, but you as part of his entourage are subject to scrutiny by mere association. Thankfully, the patrons of this establishment seem more awed than judgmental, but that doesn’t the attention is any less disconcerting.

Before you and Mando can so much as approach the reception desk, you’re stopped short by a man dressed in sharp clothes. His dark hair is perfectly combed and parted, and you catch a hint of expensive cologne as he introduces himself as the resort manager. Mando declines to shake his hand, but you let the man squeeze your palm for a brief moment.

“We need to book a room,” Mando states, trying to use this as an excuse to end the exchange. The resort manager, however, brushes off the attempt with ease.

“That’s already been taken care of, sir.” He gestures towards the elevators with one well-manicured hand, smiling what you can only describe as a customer service smile. “If you follow me this way, I can show you and your companions to your accommodations.”

“We don’t have lines of credit on this planet,” Mando cuts, tone taking on an edge as fishes around for some money. “We just want—”

“Sir,” the resort manager presses, and you have to admire the way he keeps his voice steady even though he looks like he might piss his pants any second, “I assure you that it’s been take care of. Now please, follow me.”

Mando pauses for a moment, staring down this well-dressed, handsome man as if to size him up. But then he nods, and Mr. Manager leads the three of you to the elevators. You ride up up up in a private car, sitting in relative silence the whole way. The manager does most of the talking, asking a few subtly invasive questions about why you’re here— right up until Mando essentially tells him to fuck off. After that, conversation centers mostly around the baby and the amenities available at the hotel, and then you’re walking out into a quiet corridor. It’s not a private floor by any means, but the spacing of the doors lets you know that not many people stay up here. That’s a bit of a relief, at least in your opinion, because the guests here seem rowdy. And drunk. So fucking drunk…

The suite is— Well, the suite is fucking ridiculous, to put it bluntly. It’s four rooms, five if you count the little kitchen area as its own space, and everything is decorated just so. The furnishings are opulent, the upholstery is rich— the ‘fresher alone is bigger than the common area of the home you grew up in. The manager says something about how you shouldn’t hesitate to ask for anything you need, but you barely here him, awestruck in a way by the luxury all around you. Mando sees your escort out, and you can’t believe how casual he’s being about all of this.

“Do—?” The baby makes a discontent noise, ready to be let out of his pram, and you lower him down without giving the action much thought. “Do people always do things like this for you, or…?”

Mando turns to look at you. “Only when they’re scared shitless. As far as all those people are concerned, they’re my next quarry.”

Having received the message, you leave the conversation at that, opting to go and unpack instead of prodding Mando further. The baby toddles about the suite at his leisure, oscillating between cooing at his father and playing on the bed while you work. He’s broken into a basket of complimentary snacks, and you watch as he munches on cookies and chips and a full range of other fine foods. You should probably stop him on the premise of all that ruining his dinner, but Mando’s making noises about going out to do some reconnaissance this evening. With him gone, it’ll just be you and the kid, and you think he can have a treat just this once. Besides, he might crash from the sugar rush, and you could score an evening to yourself in this big fancy hotel room.

“Send me a comm if I’m not here when you wake up,” is all Mando says before he leaves, though he does tilt his head in acknowledgement when you tell him to be safe.

As you suspected, the Child begins to wind down not long after his father leaves, lapsing into a junk food-induced coma with a bag of chips still clenched tightly in his little green hand. You clean up his face and lay him down in his pram for the night, tucking his blankets just so before you click the cover shut.

Virtually alone now, there’s not much for you to do besides bathe and get ready for bed. And so, you do just that, lingering in the bathtub simply because you can. When the water’s gotten too cool for your liking, you climb out and play with the products that have been left out on the countertop, rubbing some expensive lotion into your skin. After that, it’s time to curse quietly to yourself in the bedroom— in all your haste and excitement to pack for this trip, you managed to forget to bring something to sleep in. Mando packed two extra shirts for himself instead of one, however, and you study one of them at arm’s length for a long moment. Wearing another person’s clothes to bed is definitely something you should ask permission to do, that much you know, but… but Mando’s not here, and you need something to wear now. Finally, you slip the garment over your head, deciding that you’ll just apologize later if he gets worked up about it.

Dressed and freshly bathed, your next order of business is to procure some food for yourself. The baby’s still asleep when you get out of the bathtub, so you forgo getting him anything. You do, however, order something that’ll be good for Mando later, something filling that can be eaten lukewarm or even cold when he gets back. Everything is delicious, and you climb into bed full and content.

Even though you’re tired, sleep doesn’t come easily. You find yourself thinking of Mando, and you lie awake wondering what he’s up to— wondering if he’s safe. He’s always doing this, going out for indeterminate amounts of times to hunt his prey, and you worry about him each and every time he’s gone. It’s silly, you know, and for so many reasons. He’s a Mandalorian, for the Maker’s sake— he can take care of himself just fine— and it’s not like he’s yours to fuss over anyway. Sure, the man employs you, but your emotional investment in his safety has grown a bit intense over these past few months. As much as you hate to admit it, Mando’s different to you now, more important than he used to be. The fact that you have feelings for him at all like this is borderline idiotic, but… but sometimes you wonder if he feels things for you too. You don’t have any concrete evidence, your assumptions largely based off of two passing comments and the tilt of his helmet, but still, you cling to the hope that he wants you the same way you want him.

It takes some time, but the sounds of the city do eventually lull you to sleep. You don’t wake again until the early hours of the morning, disturbed by movement in the other room. The clang of Mando’s spurs is a dead giveaway, and you relax as soon as you realize that it’s just him. You try to settle down and drift off again, but you find that you’re suddenly wide awake. So instead, you listen to Mando go about his business, tracking his footsteps from room to room. You hear the shower run in the ‘fresher for a little while, and then a chair scrapes against the floor in the dining room a few minutes after that. The tinkling of a utensils tells you that Mando’s eating the food you got for him, and he must like it, too, because he doesn’t just inhale the plate and move on.

Earlier, after you and Mando realized that the suite only has one bed, he offered to sleep on the couch, and you’d agreed to that. Now, though, you don’t like the idea of him trying to fold his beskar-clad body up on the cushions in the living room. He’s the reason the three of you got this room in the first place, even if he never asked for the special treatment, and you think he’s entitled to at least sleep on the ridiculously soft bed. Still, it’s a presumptuous thing, asking him to lie down with you, and you’re not sure you’re brave enough to do it. You are brave enough, however, to ask him how his surveillance mission went, so you slip out of bed and pad towards the dining room.

“Mando?” you call, voice sounding rather loud in the still darkness. You wouldn’t want to catch him without his helmet on, so you’re giving him a warning.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Mando affirms, and you know the coast is clear by the electronic tinge to his voice.

He’s still sitting there at the table when you turn the corner, and the Mandalorian does seem a bit taken aback by the sight of you. Only now do you remember that you’re wearing his clothes, and two thoughts cross your mind: Will he be pissed with you? Does this shirt even cover your ass properly?

“Is—? You’re wearing my clothes.” Mando is expressionless in the helmet, of course, but the tilt of his voice is indicative of surprise.

You flush, tugging on the hem of the shirt. “Yeah, I— I forgot to pack something to sleep in, and you had an extra one. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” the Mandalorian says at once, cutting you off. A pause, and then he’s much more collected, much more like himself again. “It’s not a problem, really. No big deal.”

You nod at that, and then things are casual again. You ask Mando if he got any good information about his quarry, and he says that he did. He thanks you for getting him some dinner, and you say that it was no trouble.

“The baby’s sleeping?”

“Yeah,” you affirm, jerking your head towards the bedroom. “I have him in his pram. I think all the sweets put him in a diabetic coma.”

Mando doesn’t laugh, but the little huff that comes from his vocoder is enough to tell you that the joke landed. “Good,” he says, “I’m glad somebody’s getting some rest.”

There’s a lull in conversation, the two of you looking at one another from opposite ends of the dimly lit dining room. You lean in the doorway, mock-casual as you toy with the hem of your borrowed shirt.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch, you know,” you say softly, finding it difficult to make eye contact with the visor as you speak.

“It doesn’t matter to me,” the Mandalorian replies. “You got in bed first, so I’m not going to make you move now—”

“No, no,” you chide, interrupting him. “I—”

You take a breath, deciding that now is as good a time as any. It’s time to rip off the bandage, and if this goes to shit, you can always chalk your actions up to exhaustion later.

“I mean, you could come lie down in bed too,” you say quickly, fidgeting nervously. “With me.”

Mando doesn’t say or do anything for one long, agonizing moment, and you’re sure you’re going to throw up. But then…

“Do you want me to lie down with you?”

His voice is quiet through the modulator, almost soft in a way, and the sound of it makes something inside you flutter.

“Yeah.”

You’re almost whispering, and you wonder what the Mandalorian thinks of you in this moment, how you look to him standing there in his clothes, asking him to come to bed with you. It must not be an ugly sight in his eyes, because he stands and walks to you, murmuring, “Come on.”

Mando checks on the baby as you crawl back in bed, rearranging the Child’s blankets, giving him an affectionate little pat. The pram clicks closed, and then Mando’s faltering at the edge of the bed.

“I can’t—” His abandons his words in favor of a display, gesturing towards the armor on his body, to the room as a whole. “This isn’t—”

“I know,” you say softly, because you do. The armor makes him feel safe, makes him feel strong, and he won’t be able to sleep if he takes it off in this strange, foreign environment. “Just take your boots off. Or are those made of beskar too?”

It’s a silly joke, but it earns you a little huff through the vocoder nonetheless.

“No,” Mando retorts, tone light. He takes off more than just his boots, unclipping his utility belt before he sits down on the edge of the bed. It takes Mando a minute to unlace his boots, but when he’s done, he finally lies down beside you, not even untucking the blankets on his side.

“You don’t want some covers?”

Mando shakes his head, and you have to admit that his big, beskar-clad body looks out of place in this even bigger, soft bed. You wonder idly if it would be different on the ship, if Mando would take all the armor off and lie beside you there too. You could never ask him to take the helmet off, that would be too much, but if he was on his own turf instead of holed up in some hotel suite… It’s too late to be worried about all of that now, though, so you force yourself to relax and enjoy this moment.

“This place is sort of fancy,” Mando says to you, voice cutting through the darkness, and you nod in agreement.

“Yeah, but I like the Crest better.”

“Really?”

You nod again. “It’s… warmer. Everything in this city is so cold. The building’s are pretty, and the streets make a pretty picture, but nobody’s supposed to live here. It’s all for show. Very plastic. I see why you weren’t excited to come here.”

Mando says nothing to this, though somehow you know that he’s not taking pleasure in being right.

Feeling bold, you move a bit closer to the Mandalorian. “I’ll be happy to go home.”

“I’m getting the quarry tomorrow,” Mando says, “probably before nightfall. We can be back on the Crest and off Cantonica before it’s time for us to sleep again.”

You like to think there’s a promise in that, an indication of what’s to come, but you’ll just have to wait and see. You’ll just have to hope.

“Good.”

And as your last act of bravery for the night, you reach out across the sheets and grab Mando’s hand.

He doesn’t pull away.