#i;m so abnormal about charlie....... the

[rt-arts]

i'm almost 100% sure i've uploaded this before somewhere else but i thought i'd post it again

mac & charlie belong to @starchymcgee as always!

[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 💜

[leviiackrman]

Introducing my latest OCs:

Rob Young: Pinterest | Faceclaim

Sakiya: Pinterest | Faceclaim

Rob is an old uncharted oc I never fully fleshed out (until now!) and Sakiya is my new earthbending baby!

More info under the cut (i apologise, theres a lot of info/context for sakiya...):

Rob Young:

is best friend to J. Drake’s father, being around often when she was little until becoming her mentor later in life (also her godfather)

is the reason she got out of Panama (he bailed her out after tracking down her runaway ass)

helped to guide/train her (left that mostly to lara tho - and yes I like to think uc and tr are in the same universe, lara and nate would NOT get along to begin with)

works as the ‘informant’ in the treasure hunting business - knows the contacts and finds the jobs for everyone basically (including jess + charlie)

old friends with one Victor Sullivan - though they but heads often on how to do things ‘properly’

runs an underground bar where he conducts his ‘fortune hunting’ business, yknow, totally legal stuff...

likes to think hes classy enough for a suit - ‘the business man’ aesthetic,m but then wears dirty jeans/old leather jackets that smell of ash over the top so hes still ‘down with the cool kids’

doesn’t have a family or kids but considers jess his adoptive daughter - later grows to like sam too but deffo does the whole ‘im the dad, i will kill you’ thing

prefers being the ‘stay behind’ type during jobs - leaves his office only if necessary but enjoys a good adventure

is scary to his employees to keep the reputation up, but has the best sense of humour and cuddles

hes about 6′4, so can be intimidating - even to the gangly fucker that is sam

shaved his head when he was younger to be ‘cool’ (*cough* more like more streamlined... *cough*) but soon went bald anyway so it didn’t phase him

is the definiton of ‘bad grandpa’ to jess + sam’s kids - deffo didn’t give tobin a switch blade for his 6th bday...

Sakiya (translates to ‘cherry blossom growing’ in Japanese):

father Chozu was a part of the fire nation military (and experienced fire bender), mother Kaiya was a civilian earthbender from a small village in the earth kingdom

parents met during a patrol, her father was instructed to monitor the village for a few weeks and soon fell in love with her mother

kaiya used a carved staff to channel her earthbending, later teaching sakiya a few tricks with it - and later giving it to her

to keep her safe, he thought that bringing her willingly back to the fire nation would be safest - ‘right under their noses’ as it were... he was wrong...

years pass and they have Sakiya, raised as tho she were fully fire nation

mother worked as a handmaiden in the royal palace

she began bringing Sakiya with her to work to keep her out of trouble, where she later met Zuko and Azula - their mother encouraging she be a friend for Zuko while Azula played with Mai and Ty-Lee

grew friendly with the group over the years, eventually sneaking her pet puma Hayami with her for their play dates (at the other kids request)

hayami loosly translates to ‘rare and unusual beauty’ in Japanese, due to her abnormal puma size and powerful roar - she ain’t a normal puma if ya catch my drift

Azula grew frustrated with her preferring to be best friends with Zuko, and so out of jealously when Sakiya was 12, she discovered her families secret

Chozu was arrested and sentanced to death for his betrayal, while Kaiya was poisoned in their home, later discovered to be by a hired assassin of Azula’s doing

Sakiya was arrested while at the palace (in front of Zuko mind you) and taken into prison where she was interigated (whipped with fire on her back basically, to put it bluntly)

later covered her scars with tattoo engravings of a cherry blossom tree

Hayami - not being your average puma - helped her escape and brought them both to the earth kingdom

kept herself safe by cutting her hair off and running into the woods after being pursued by A LOT of assassins and bounty hunters

found a collection of ‘Elders’ - a group of older woman living in the canopies of the forrest - using the resources around them to survive + make poisons

they taught her how to balance herself emotionally, channeling her wisdom and tranquility into her earth bending skills

had taken her mothers staff with her upon her escape and so utilised her unique bending technique

they also named her Shen (loosly translating to ‘spiritual’ + ‘deep thinking’ in Chinese - to erase her past)

spent 3 years with the ‘Elders’ before leaving the safety of their camp as word of the Avatar’s return spread

saught out team avatar to aid them, proving she could help them through the guidance and wisdom she shared - also her earthbending but she’d prefer to resolve things without using it

she and Toph grew v close - their mix of personalities proving opposites do attract and they were practically besties

also assumed Zuko was involved in her families fall, so held a quiet grudge when he reoccured often in their adventures

saught him out at one point when she heard he was banished but was only faced with his anger - didn’t help the sitch much huh?

didn’t last v long tho as they grew close again when he joined the team

has a new family with team avatar and travels with them often

zuko taught her how to dance because she’s a monk of sorts, so she never knew how

has never seen snow before so katara was keen to show her

later also becomes chancellor to zuko when he becomes fire lord! because besties!!

whole other plot line of how her staff was techincally cursed with a ‘defence’ spell by her mum to keep her safe when she used it but backfired when she activated as it used her tranquility against her, releasing all the anger she surpressed over the years

general point - has never really been attracted to anyone and so never saught out romance, she was content with what she has which is her found family and amazing pet puma *heart eyes*

[kathyprior4200]

Alastor Playlist and Soundtrack

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SVGNjWPGVbA&list=PLWFYZb-mcJq3iLDvWh9xpnBNBVkDhXh-w

So many people have wondered what Alastor’s human life could’ve been like. There have been fan art, stories and several animations of Alastor when he was a radio host and serial killer. But surely there could be more clues as to what also occurred.

In fact there are, and they could very well be right in front of your eyes…or should I say, your ears.

 Behold an official Alastor playlist.

 Yes, Vivziepop herself made a playlist for Alastor a while back.

 AlBirdVampPrince on YouTube thankfully provided it before it was lost to the web. When I listened to the cheery old time jazz intermingled with the catchy beats, I was instantly teleported into another time. For several moments, I was immersed in Alastor’s world, watching him dance with flapper ladies, exploring the woods, playing a variety of instruments, and yes, his radio show and murders as well. I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear listening to the songs.

 These songs shed a brand new light on a beloved popular character in Hazbin Hotel. Music is a central theme for the show and the personalities of the characters. Just look at Charlie and Alastor. Sometimes, all it takes is music and a song to delve into a character’s head.

 Here is a list of sixteen songs that were shown on the list.

  1     “Annie: You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile”

 Ah yes, the all-too familiar song from the classic Annie musical in 1982. The song is by Peter Marshall. The song was played during the Iodent toothpaste commercial scene. Mr. Warbucks goes on the radio and offers 50,000 dollars to anyone who claimed to be Annie’s parents. The orphan girls later sing it as they listen to the radio. The meaning of the song: no matter how you dress or what social class you come from, happiness is what makes people stand out. The song has been used in many remakes of Annie such as the 1999 and 2014 versions.

 This song would be Alastor’s favorite. He even quoted it in the show, saying to Vaggie, “Smile my dear! You know you’re never fully dressed without one!” It is evident that Vivziepop enjoys Annie and many other musicals, hence all the references in the show and her art.

 Ever since then, lyrics and music have been used in dozens of fan art and projects. Gabriel C. Brown, the singing voice of Alastor, even did a cover of the song on YouTube. Often times, the lyrics are displayed whenever Alastor’s mother is drawn. A popular theory suggests that Alastor’s mother told him that he was never fully dressed without a smile, as a way of cheering him up during tough times.

  In Kathy Prior 42’s Human Alastor backstory, this song would be played as the intro song as fans immediately associate this song with Alastor. Alastor plays this song after every broadcast, the song that keeps him going every day. It would also appear in the ending credits. Alastor’s Creole mother Antoinette Moreau encourages a young Alastor to smile and stand tall when she sings this to him. For Alastor, it’s not just a fun song…it’s something that helps remind him of his mother and what his purpose is.

 Lyrics:

(spoken) This is Bert Healy saying…

(singing)

 Hey, Hobo Man

Hey Dapper Dan

You’ve both got your style

But brother

You’re never fully dressed

Without a smile

 Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You’re never fully dressed

Without a smile

 Who cares what they’re wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

It’s what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

That matters

 So, Senator

So, Janitor

So long for a while

Remember,

You’re never fully dressed

Without a smile

 (Boylan sister)

Ready or not, here he goes

Listen to Bert

Tap his smilin’ toes

 (Healy)

(spoken) Ah the lovely Boylan Sisters

 (Boylan Sisters)

Doo doodle-oo doo

Doo doodle-oo doo

Doo doo doo doo

Doo doo doo doo

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You’re never fully dressed without an

 (Connie): S

(Bonnie): M

(Ronnie): I

(Connie): L

(All three): E. Smile darn ya smile.

  2 “Smile”

 Here we have another song about smiling, but this one has a different tone than the previous one. This song was originally sung by Nat King Cole, charted in 1954, composed by Charlie Chaplin. “Smile’ was used as a soundtrack in the 1936 movie “Modern Times.”

 Lyrics of this song are shown on old Alastor Zoophobia art by Vivziepop. The art shows an old version of Alastor wearing a black suit doing a magic trick and singing the first few lines of the song.

 In Kathy Prior 42’s Human Alastor backstory, Alastor’s mother sings this song to him after he deals with both bullying from his classmates and the constant abuse from his father. It is a song to remind him that smiling is a sign of strength to get through the hard times. Alastor is stunned to find that his mother smiles through the hits and bruises that his father gives her. Even daily discrimination at work doesn’t stop her from doing it. Alastor takes this lesson to heart and makes it into a life-long habit...even after death. Though he smiles all the time, the burden of hiding his feelings inside is only evident to him. In addition, Alastor sings a lament of this song after his mother’s death via the Spanish Flu and Mimzy’s accidental death by poisoning. The song gives out mixed messages: for while it helped Alastor remain confident throughout his life and afterlife, it also conforms to the masculinity message of “boys and men don’t cry.” Sadness is a natural human emotion and there are times when it cannot be repressed.

   Lyrics:

Smile, through your heart is aching

Smile, even though it’s breaking

When there are clouds in the sky

You’ll get by…

 If you smile

Through your fear and sorrow

Smile and maybe tomorrow

You’ll see the sun come shining through for you

 Light up your face with gladness

Hide every trace of sadness

Although a tear may ever be so near

 That’s the time you must keep on trying

Smile, what’s the use of crying

You’ll find that life is worthwhile

If you just smile

 That’s the time you must keep on trying

Smile, what’s the use of crying

You’ll find that life is worthwhile

If you just smile

      3 “Let’s Misbehave”

 Anyone else notice the title on one of the Hazbin Hotel thumbnails of Alastor in static? Yes, it is an actual song. The song was written by Cole Porter in 1927. It was a 1928 hit for Irving Aaronson and his Commanders and has been used in several films.

 In “Smiling Man” by MuseValentine, a human Alastor says “Let’s misbehave” to a human Charlie before they make love behind Lucifer’s back.

 In Kathy Prior 42’s Alastor Human backstory, Alastor was born in 1896, thus in 1928, he is in his early thirties. Alastor and Mimzy get into trouble, they cuddle in a hotel room and almost have sex. Alastor holds back because he doesn’t want to get intimate with anyone, much to her disbelief and sadness. This was before her death. Alastor berates himself for being so careless and begins to question his own sexuality, (which is perceived as abnormal by society and everyone else).

  Lyrics:

We’re all alone

No chaperone

Can get our number

The world’s in slumber

Let’s misbehave

 There’s something wild

About you, child

That’s so contagious

Let’s be outrageous

Let’s misbehave

 When Adam won Eve’s hand

He wouldn’t stand

For teasin’

He didn’t care about

Those apples out of season

 They say the spring

Means just one thing

To little lovebirds

We’re not above birds

Let’s misbehave

 Let’s misbehave

Let’s misbehave

 If you’d be just so sweet

And only meet

Your fate, dear

‘Twould be the great

Event of nineteen twenty eight

Dear!

Let’s misbehave

Let’s misbehave!

   4 “You Rascal You”

 This song was sung by Cab Calloway in 1931, published in 1929. The lyrics take the form of threats leveled against a man who runs off with the singer’s wife, after the singer was kind to him.

 Alastor’s Human backstory has a couple scenes for this song. The first scene is when Alastor finds out that his father had been sleeping with other women behind his mother’s back. Alastor had tried to reason with his father, but he eventually snapped. Alastor has angry thoughts about killing his father, which he eventually does.

 The second scene is less prominent. Although Alastor was not in love with Mimzy, he got possessive when other men tried to flirt with her. One racist horny man goes off with Mimzy leaving Alastor by himself. His good friend had been taken from him, after Alastor had been kind to both of them. So what does he do? Hunts down the man and kills him, of course.

 Lyrics:

You sure is a rascal

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

When you dead in your grave

No more women will you crave

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

 I trust you in my home, you rascal you

I trust you in my home, you rascal you

I trust you in my home

You wouldn’t leave my wife alone

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

 I fed you since last fall, you rascal you

I fed you since last fall, you rascal you

I fed you since last fall

Then you got your ashes hauled

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

 You asked my wife to wash your clothes, you rascal you

You asked my wife to wash your clothes, you rascal you

You asked my wife to wash your clothes

And something else I suppose

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

 You know you done me wrong, you rascal you

 You know you done me wrong, you rascal you

You know you done me wrong

You done stole my wife and gone

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

 You asked my wife for a meal, you rascal you

You asked my wife for a meal, you rascal you

You asked my wife for a meal

And something else you tried to steal

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

 Please don’t let me find you, rascal you

Please don’t let me find you, rascal you

Please don’t let me find you

‘Cause you’ll leave this world behind you

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

 Ain’t no use to run, you rascal you

 Ain’t no use to run, you rascal you

Aint no use to run

I done bought a Gatling gun

And you’re still having your fun, you rascal you!

 I’m gonna kill you just for fun, you rascal you!

I’m gonna kill you just for fun, you rascal you!

I’m gonna kill you just for fun

The buzzards gonna have you when I’m done

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

 You done messed with my wife, you rascal you

You done messed with my wife, you rascal you

You done messed with my wife

And I’m gonna take your life

I’ll be glad when you dead, you rascal you!

 5 “I ain’t gonna tell nobody”

 This song was made in 1923 by Richard M. Jones. King Oliver and his Creole Jazz band recorded it in 1923…it was likely one of the many songs that Alastor heard and enjoyed. One of the songs that inspired him to be a jazz band leader.

  6 “The Charleston”

 Ah the Charleston, the popular dance style from the 1920s. The dance used in so many fanfictions and art with Alastor and Charlie in it. And the inspiration for the “Charlastor” shipping name for Alastor and Charlie in the fandom. “The Charleston” was by James P. Johnson and it was in the 1923 Broadway show Runnin’ Wild. A melody of it was made by Arthur Gibbs.

 In Alastor’s human backstory, Alastor dances the Charleston with Mimzy in 1923 during the Roaring 20s at the peak of his life and career. He later dances with Charlie at the Hazbin Hotel in Hell.

 Lyrics:

 Carolina, Carolina, at last they’ve got you on the map,

With a new tune, funny blue tune, with a peculiar snap!

You may not be able to buck or wing

Foxtrot, two-step, or even sing

If you’ve not got religion in your feet

You can do this prance and do it neat

 Charleston! Charleston! Made in Carolina!

Some dance, some prance,

I’ll say there’s nothing finer than the

 Charleston, Charleston, gee how you can shuffle

Every step you do leads to something new

Man, I’m telling you, it’s a lapazoo!

 Buck dance, wing dance will be a back number,

But the Charleston, the new Charleston,

That dance is surely a corner

 Sometime, you’ll dance it one time,

That dance called Charleston,

Made in South Caroline!

 7 “Runnin’ Wild”

The song is by Duke Ellington, and was made in 1922.

 In Alastor’s human backstory, this song that Alastor sings describes the fun care-free moments that Alastor had in his youth. The events included feeding alligators in the bayou, exploring the woods, seeing animals and being outside.

 The second scene with this song is in 1922 when Alastor gets tired of Mimzy being clingy. Alastor doesn’t love anyone in a romantic way…he had lost the one person he loved many years ago. Due to past trauma, he puts on a persona but doesn’t trust people enough to let them in fully into his life. Not wanting to meet her expectations of being a perfect man, Alastor longs to be himself and be free again. Alastor and Mimzy try to reconcile at a bar, only for her to die later on. Alastor kills people to vent his frustrations. The song is a reflection of Alastor becoming a villain.

 Lyrics:

My gal and I, we had a fight

And I’m all by myself

I guess she thinks now that she’s gone

I’ll lay right on the shelf

I’m gonna show her she’s all wrong

No lonesome stuff for me

I won’t sit home, all alone

She’ll soon find that I’m

 Runnin’ wild, lost control

Runnin’ wild, mighty bold

Feelin’ gay, reckless too

Care free mind all the time, never blue

Always goin’ don’t know where

Always showin’ I don’t care

Don’t love nobody, it’s not worth while

All alone, runnin’ wild. Runnin’ wild.

 When I first met that gal of mine

It seemed just like a dream

But when she thought she had me right

She started acting mean

Like Mary led her little lamb

She led me all the time

Until the worm had to turn

That’s the reason I’m

 Runnin’ wild, lost control

Runnin’ wild, mighty bold

Feelin’ gay, reckless too

Care free mind all the time, never blue

Always goin’ don’t know where

Always showin’ I don’t care

Don’t love nobody, it’s not worth while

All alone, runnin’ wild. Runnin’ wild.

 No gal will ever make a fool of me

No gal! I mean just what I say

I ain’t the simpleton I used to be

Wonder how I got that way

 Once I was full of sentiment, it’s true

But now I got a cruel heart

With all that other foolishness, I’m through

Gonna play the villain part

  Runnin’ wild, lost control

Runnin’ wild, mighty bold

Feelin’ gay, reckless too

Care free mind all the time, never blue

Always goin’ don’t know where

Always showin’ I don’t care

Don’t love nobody, it’s not worth while

All alone, runnin’ wild. Runnin’ wild.

  8 “I’m Sitting on Top of the World”

A song by Al Jonson in 1928. Alastor would sing this song as he talks about his new rich life as a radio host. He likes the money but he also likes Mimzy and other women.

 Lyrics:

I'm sitting on top of the world, I'm rolling along, I'm rolling along. I'm quitting the blues of the world, Just singing a song, Just singing a song. Glory hallelujah, i just phoned the parson, Hey, par, get ready to call.' Just like humpty dumpty, I'm going to fall. I'm sitting on top of the world, Just rolling along, Just rolling along.' Some people have diamonds And beautiful pearls, While others have children, Just kiddies with curls. Keep all of your fortunes, Keep all of your fame, I just found a sweetie Who's changing her name. : I'm sitting on top of the world, Just rolling along, Just rolling along. I'm quitting the blues of the world, Just singing a song, Just singing a song. Glory hallelujah, i just phoned the parson, Hey, par, get ready to call.' Just like humpty dumpty, I'm going to fall. I'm sitting on top of the world, Just rolling along, Just rolling along.' Don't want any millions, I'm getting my share. I've only got one suit, That's all i can wear. A bundle of money won't make you feel gay. A sweet little honey is making me say: I'm sitting on top of the world, Just rolling along, Just rolling along. I'm quitting the blues of the world, Just singing a song, Just singing a song. Glory hallelujah, i just phoned the parson, Hey, par, get ready to call.' Just like humpty dumpty, I'm going to fall. I'm sitting on top of the world, Just rolling along, Just rolling along.

   9 “Criminal” (American Horror Story)

This song might reference Alastor’s general life as a criminal...or perhaps Mimzy’s dark thoughts regarding her feelings for Alastor.

   Lyrics:

I've been a bad, bad girl I've been careless with a delicate man And its a sad, sad world When a girl will break a boy Just because she can Oh, help me But don't tell me to deny it I've got to cleanse myself of all these lies 'Till I'm good enough for him I got a lot to lose, and I'm bettin' high So I'm beggin' you: Before it ends, just tell me where to begin Ooh, What I need is a good defense 'Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal And I need to redeemed To the one I've sinned against Because he's all I ever knew of love Yeah, What I need is a good defense 'Cause I'm feelin' like a criminal And I need to redeemed To the one I've sinned against Because he's all I ever knew of love

10 “Blood” (My Chemical Romance)

 Yes. Vivziepop adores My Chemical Romance. It is obvious from the many MCR songs that she provides to her characters. (“Sing” for Charlie, “Na Na Na” for Cherri Bomb, “Mama” for Angel Dust, etc.) This one called “Blood” undeniably relates to Alastor’s murder and cannibalism activities. (Let’s face it, Vivzie loves musicals so much, Hazbin Hotel is one giant musical, with nearly every character knowing how to sing and play a variety of instruments! Hazbin Logic.)

 Lyrics:

Well they encourage your complete cooperation Send you roses when they think you need to smile I can't control myself because I don't know how, And they love me for it honestly, I'll be here for a while

So give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff Give them all that they can drink and it will never be enough So give them blood, blood, blood Grab a glass because there's going to be a flood

A celebrated man amongst the gurneys They can fix me proper with a bit of luck The doctors and the nurses they adore me so, But it's really quite alarming cause I'm such an awful fuck (oh thank you)

I gave you blood, blood, gallons of the stuff, I gave you all that you can drink and it has never been enough I gave you blood, blood, blood, I'm the kind of human wreckage that you love

  11 “Doctor Jazz”

 “Doctor Jazz” was made written by Joe King Oliver in 1926 and recorded by Jelly Roll Morton.

 This is one of many songs that Alastor sings in his backstory. This song plays when Alastor loses himself in the blissful moments playing trumpets, saxophones and singing onstage. Music and jazz helped Alastor out during hard times of discrimination and him witnessing police brutality against African Americans and disadvantaged individuals. In music, Alastor felt safe, confident, invincible.

 Lyrics:

Everybody gets the blues now and then, and don’t know what to do

I’ve had it happen many times to me before and so have you

But those days have gone and past, I found out what to do at last

When I feel down and out, you will hear me shout:

  Hello central, give me Doctor Jazz

He’s got what I need, I’ll say he has

When the world goes wrong and I’ve got the blues

He’s the guy who makes me put on both my dancin’ shoes

The more I get, the more I want it soon

I see Doctor Jazz in all my dreams

When I’m in trouble, bounds are mixed

He’s the guy who gets me fixed

Hello central, give me Doctor Jazz

  12 “Main Title and Anatomy of a Murder”

 The song comes from a 1959 courtroom drama film by Duke Ellington. This song gives off a “sneaky, spy” like vibe, a tension of “who done it,” in the music. This track would play during the mention of the mysterious “Louisiana Lunatic” in the newspapers, plus Alastor’s broadcasts of all the deaths he caused.

 13 “God Moves On The Water”

 This song is by Billie Willie Johnson in 1929. This song describes the sinking of the Titanic in 1912 (the year of Baxter’s death). It was an event that Alastor wasn’t involved in, but presumably found entertaining like the 1929 Stock Market Crash.

 This song could relate to the many hurricane disasters that went on in Alastor’s life in Louisiana but was lucky enough to survive in. The song could also reference the distress and helplessness that people of color, women and other minority groups felt in the clutches of a dominant white society.

 Lyrics:

 Ah, Lord, ah, Lord Year of nineteen hundred and twelve, April the fourteenth day Great Titanic struck an iceberg, people had to run and pray God moves, moves, God moves, ah, and the people had to run and pray The guards who had been a-watching, asleep 'cause they were tired When they heard the great excitement, then a gunshot was fired God moves, moves, God moves, ah, and the people had to run and pray

 Captain Smith gave orders, women and children first Many of the lifeboats piled right up, many were liable to crush God moves on, God moves, God moves, ah, and the people had to run and pray

 So many had to leave their happy home, all that they possess Lord Jesus, will you hear us now, help us in our distress God moves, God moves, God moves, ah, people had to run and pray Women had to leave their loving ones, see 'bout their safety When they heard the liner was doomed, hearts did almost break God moves, God moves, God moves, ah, and the people had to run and pray A.G. Smith, mighty man, built a boat that he couldn't understand Named it a name of God in a tin, without a "c", Lord, he pulled it in God moves, ah, God moves, God moves, ah, and the people had to run and pray Well Ah, ah, Lord

  14 “Minnie the Moocher”

“Minnie the Moocher” by Cao Calloway is a vocalizing catchy song about a beautiful woman named Minnie. This song could possibly relate to rumors about Mimzy and her famous wealthy life.

 Lyrics:

 Folks, here's a story 'bout Minnie the Moocher She was a red-hot hoochie-coocher She was the roughest, toughest frail But Minnie had a heart as big as a whale

Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi (hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi) Whoa-a-a-a-ah (whoa-a-a-a-ah) Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee (hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee) He-e-e-e-e-e-e-y (he-e-e-e-e-e-e-y)

She messed around with a bloke named Smokey She loved him though was cokey He took her down to Chinatown And he showed her how to kick the gong around

Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi (hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi) Whoa-a-a-a-ah (whoa-a-a-a-ah) He-e-e-e-e-e-e-y (he-e-e-e-e-e-e-y) Oh-oh-oh-oh (oh-oh-oh-oh)

She had a dream about the King of Sweden He gave her things that she was needin' He gave her a home built of gold and steel A diamond car with a p-la-ti-num wheel

Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi (hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi) Ho-dee-ho-dee-ho-dee ho (ho-dee-ho-dee-ho-dee ho) Skip-de-diddly-skip-de-diddly-diddly-oh (skip-de-diddly-skip-de-diddly-diddly-oh) Bour'rrigy-bour'rrigy-bour'rrigy-oh (bour'rrigy-bour'rrigy-bour'rrigy-oh)

He gave her his townhouse and his racing horses Each meal she ate was a dozen courses She had a million dollars worth of nickels and dimes She sat around and counted them all a million times

Hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi (hi-dee hi-dee hi-dee hi) Whoa-a-a-a-ah (whoa-a-a-a-ah) He-e-e-e-e-e-e-y (he-e-e-e-e-e-e-y) Whoa-a-a-a-ah (whoa-a-a-a-ah)

Poor Min, poor Min, poor Min

   15 “Crazy Rhythm”

This song was made by Whispering Jack Smith in 1928.

 Perhaps this song is a reference to Alastor having to put aside his free music playing time at the cost of being a famous radio host. Although, Alastor had risen to fame, his former innocence had been lost.

 Lyrics:

 I feel like the Emperor Nero when Rome was a very hot town

Father Knickerbocker, forgive me, I play while your city burns down

Through all its night I fiddle away

It’s not the right life but think of the pay

Someday I will bid it goodbye, I’ll put my fiddle away and I’ll say

 Crazy rhythm here’s the doorway

I’ll go my way, you’ll go your way

Crazy rhythm from now on we’re through

Here is where we have a showdown

I’m too high-hat, you’re too low-down

Crazy rhythm here’s goodbye to you

 They say that when a high-brow meets a low-brow walking along Broadway

Soon the high-brow has no brow

Ain’t it a shame, and you’re to blame

What’s the use of Prohibition (banning alcohol)

You produce the same condition

Crazy rhythm I’ve gone crazy too

 Every Greek and each Latin, the Russians and Prussians as well

When they seek the lure of

Manhattan, are sure to come under your spell

Their native folksongs they soon throw away

Those harlem smoke songs they soon learn to play

Can’t you fall for Carnegie Hall

Oh Danny, call it a day and we’ll say

 Crazy rhythm here’s the doorway

I’ll go my way, you’ll go your way

Crazy rhythm from now on we’re through

Here is where we have a showdown

I’m too high-hat, you’re too low-down

Crazy rhythm here’s goodbye to you

 They say that when a high-brow meets a low-brow walking along Broadway

Soon the high-brow has no brow

Ain’t it a shame, and you’re to blame

What’s the use of Prohibition (banning alcohol)

You produce the same condition

Crazy rhythm I’ve gone crazy too

  16 “My Shiny Teeth and Me”

 Another smile song, by Nate Wants To Battle, this one about how a guy admires his shiny teeth. A reference to Alastor’s self-centered ego. In sheer irony, Alastor has yellow teeth in Hell. Deer man needs to brush his teeth!

 Lyrics:

When I'm feelin' lonely - sad as I can be.. All by my self in an uncharted island in an endless sea.. What makes me happy, fills me up with glee: Those bones in my jaw that don't have a flaw. My shiny teeth and me. My shiny teeth that twinkle just like the stars in space, My shiny teeth that sparkle addin' beauty to my face, My shiny teeth that glisten just like a Christmas tree. You know they'll walk a mile just to see me smile... Woo! My shiny teeth and me! Yes they're all so perfect; so white and pearly. Brush, gargle, rinse - A couple breath mints... My shiny teeth and me! My shiny teeth so awesome, just like your favorite song. My shiny teeth I floss em' so they grow to be real strong. My shiny teeth I love them and they all love me, Why should I talk to you when I got 32! Woo! My shiny teeth and me, My shiny teeth and me! My shiny teeth that twinkle just like the stars in space, My shiny teeth that sparkle addin' beauty to my face, My shiny teeth that glisten just like a Christmas tree. You know they'll walk a mile just to see me smile... Woo! My shiny teeth and me. My shiny teeth and me. My shiny teeth and me!

  17 “The Radio Demon”

 An official soundtrack in the pilot episode. The circus music that turns dark with organs playing. It plays when Vaggie tells of how Alastor got into power. This song plays after Alastor’s death and during the ending credits in the backstory. It serves as a transition to Alastor arriving in Hell, the next act in the character arc.

[augustheart]

In reference to your tags: Gods no. Not in a million years. I am very much a cat or dog person. Most other animals I admire from the furthest I can get while still viewing them. Just to reinforce your point. So, for affection towards the Doctor Mid-Nitei, Charlie and Hooty could conceivably just be relaxed hanging around them and nibble on them? Given that we are already talking about abnormal behavior with them being friends, could I have the owls do platonic cross-species preening? 1/2

What would be considered a high value snack? I think the frequency of simulated preening I have in my story should be okay. While I cannot control what people think happens 'behind the scenes' each incident actually depicted is several weeks to several months apart. And definitely not on the back. ...Although. If I go the excessive anthropomorphism route I could probably write a decent comedy with the concept of Hooty being in love with Doctor Charles McNider. 2/2

Yep! They’d probably be especially interested in things that made sound (like I’ve said, owls are very hearing-oriented. I have a lovely memory of trying to get good shots of a male Barred Owl and getting extremely muddy in the process. Every time I took a step, he’d swivel his head around to look at me--and then he’d jump and look down again because I’d invariably scare up a bullfrog, while keeping one ear on me. No such luck with the photos, because the ones I got had him partially obscured by leaves (though if you want to see them they’re not that bad), but it was a fun experience). Noisy things get all of the attention, and then go in the beak for further up-close inspection.

Cross species allopreening is more than possible! This is a world where an owl can kill a man by flying directly through it because it’s powered by a super-drug. It’s fine to bend that kind of realism for the sake of the story and of their friendship. Here’s two young Barred Owls doing some interspecies allopreening. I like the foot movement involved, and how very clumsy it is.

Re: Owl and human preening, I also just found at least one study (Eric D. Forsman, Howard M. Wight, Allopreening in Owls: What Are Its Functions? published in July 1979) that mentions anecdotally a Spotted Owl engaging in preening with the human carer it primarily interacted with during the spring and summer, i.e. the breeding season.

A high value snack honestly depends on the bird! It’s one of the ways individual owls differ. Some prefer different textures and tastes--though their tastebuds aren’t as numerous as ours, they do have them. In general, though, a fattier food is best. For pigeons, a high value treat is something like safflower. For jays, it’s peanuts. For owls and from superheroes working with what they’ve got, probably some raw chicken thigh, or even something like raw salmon. Charlie and Hootie could have different favorites, or the same for more bonding opportunities. 

[moirai-au]

Timeline: arc 6 - Aftermath, about a week after the Orator is defeated

Warnings: shippy, Davil, vague mentions of alcoholism and self-harm

Taglist: @immabethehero @bupine​ @tabbynerdicat @i-maybe-exist @its-ethan-bro @sandinthetardis @honestlyitsjustkenna @taikeero-lecoredier @idkwheresanti

if any of yall (18+ only for the love of god please) wanna see the ns*w version, it’s over here.

“And you still won’t tell me where we’re going, or what we’re even doing.”

“Nope! That’s the whole concept of a surprise, babe.”

Cecil pursed his lips, unamused. He closed the book he’d been finishing just a moment prior and set it aside, on the growing pile of useless volumes right next to the desk. It wasn’t as big or as comfortable as the one in his own apartment, but it made do. “You do know I still have three other idiots to take care of here, right?”

“They’ll be fine, trust me. Charlie can take care of himself, Mars barely does anything but sleep for now, and Ollie’s watching over him. You can leave for a few hours without the mansion burning to the ground, you know.”

Cecil raised a brow. “...Were you even here for the last month and a half?”

“Painfully present, yeah,” Dave chuckled. “Remember the smell of the oven melting? I still don’t understand how the kid pulled that one off.”

The older man groaned. “For someone who wanted to reassure me, you’re not doing a very good job of it.”

“Oh c’mon! It’s gonna be okay, I’m sure of it. Besides, you really need a break.”

“I do not!” Cecil protested, distractedly scratching at his appearing stubble. Dave peered up at him with a deadpan look, considering his wrinkled clothes, his emaciated face and the dark rings under his eyes. “...Really? You know what, it doesn’t matter,” he shook his head, his blue eyes hardening. “This is me putting my foot down, not a negotiation. I’m not gonna sit here and let you run yourself into the ground like this. You’re coming with me, and that’s final.”

 The doctor stared at the younger man, taken aback- he’d never heard him use this tone before. it was firm, confident, and evidently left no room for complaint. “...Fine.” he heard himself say before he even realized it. Verdammt. Maybe he was more tired than he thought, giving in that easily.

Or maybe Dave just had this natural sense of authority Cecil had never seen before, because he’d never actually needed it. It actually made sense, considering he was a father.

Thinking about it now, it was obvious. Cecil could’ve hit himself.

“Great!” David beamed, his previous sternness gone as fast as it had arrived. “Just lemme grab a few things first, and pack warm clothes. I’ll get my car.”

“I- your car?” the doctor repeated, his confusion growing- just how far was Dave planning to take them? The smaller male only winked in response, an impish grin on his tanned face. “You’ll see.”

 ***

 It was an abnormally warm night for mid-december.

Well, warm as in… not freezing. Enough above zero that you could stand outside comfortably with a thick enough sweater kinda warm. When-even-are-seasons-anymore-climate-change-is gonna-kill-us-all kinda warm.

“I don’t get it.” Cecil mumbled as they exited the car, making a valiant effort to tone down his annoyance. “Why have you brought us here?” There truly was nothing here, other than miles and miles of rolling hills, some train tracks a few yards away, and a forest somewhere East.

Dave didn’t respond- he just smiled up at him, a hand holding the strap of the backpack he’d brought along. A giddy smile that made Cecil’s stomach flutter a little. Then he silently pointed upward, looking at him expectantly.

Cecil frowned, nonplussed, reflexively following the other’s movement; what was he-

What… was…

 He was looking up. Up, up into the endless sky. And he kept on looking, jaw growing slack, arms falling to his sides.

Because there was just so many stars so many stars more than he’d ever seen in his entire life, it was like he was ten all over again looking up through the window and babbling about rocket ships and aliens and how he was going to see it all one day-

 “You okay in there, hot stuff?”

Cecil snapped out of his stupor, looking down to see David smirking smugly at him- he was holding a thermos in each of his hands, and there was a blanket laid on the grass, big enough for the two of them. So that’s what he’d packed in his bag. “How-” he cleared his throat, “How did you…”

Dave only winked, tapping a finger against his temple. “...Oh.” the doctor realized. Right. They’d all been in each other’s heads.

“It’s mostly faded by now,” Dave shrugged, setting the warm containers on a corner of the blanket, “Those are your memories, and nobody should snoop through them… but that one stuck with me. And I- I really wanted to surprise you, y’know?”

Cecil nodded, not the slightest trace of anger or annoyance on his features. He just looked up again, silent, pale moonlight lighting up his milky white skin.

Then he looked back at him and Dave was pretty sure he was going to die on the spot.

 Cecil was smiling. Not the cocky, arrogant smirk he sometimes wore. Nor the small, timid one he managed to draw out of him once in a blue moon.

An actual, genuinely happy smile that went up to his grey, dark-rimmed eyes, crinkled up and sparkling with joy. Oh, fuck me, he thought.

 Could one fall for the same person twice?

 “Thank you,” Cecil breathed out, his voice uncharacteristically unsteady. “I… You… I’m sorry. For- for getting annoyed, I know I shouldn’t, you don’t- you deserve better.”

Ah, shit. This tall motherfucker was actually going to make him cry at this rate. “Shit man,” Dave choked, stepping closer to Cecil. “Just- c’m’here.”

He wrapped his arms around the taller man’s middle and pulled him close, tilting his head up to welcome the German’s lips on his own, the older man’s slender hands settling on both sides of his face. The kiss was slow, tender, yet filled with latent intensity and passion. They somehow ended up on the blanket, sitting ever-so close and filling the chilly air with wanton sighs and hums, carried away by the cold breeze.

 They eventually pulled back, catching their breath- they were both flushed, eyes slightly glazed over, as they looked at each other with gentle devotion. “I must say…” the doctor murmured, still a bit lightheaded, “This is… quite the break.”

Dave chuckled fondly, before pecking playfully at his lover’s forehead. “Told you you needed it. You’re running yourself ragged Ceec, no wonder you’re on edge.”

“Still, I shouldn’t keep taking out my frustration on you. It’s not right.”

Dave hummed. “Yeah, I know. But you’ve gotten better at it, really. Just gotta keep going forward, yeah?” He tucked a strand of greying hair behind Cecil’s left ear. “ ‘sides, you know I won’t just stand there and take it if you really start to be an ass.”

Cecil snorted. “So I’ve seen. You’d probably snap me in two.”

“Damn right I could! Look at that scrawny ass, I could kick it into the sun.”

“Mmh, I don’t think so. You like it too much, as you keep telling me.”

“Aw shit, he figured it out,” Dave fake-whispered, before they both broke out into laughter. “Oh, also,” he gasped when the hilarity subsided, “this isn’t just a break. S’also a celebration!”

“A celebration?”

 Dave smiled, holding out a thermos to the older man. He looked proud of himself. “Happy one month clean, handsome.”

It took him a few seconds to understand, but when he did, he reflexively rubbed at his arm, feeling his face warm up significantly as he accepted the offering, taking a sip. Mmh, black coffee, no cream and no sugar. Just how he liked it. “Ah… yes, thank you.”

“And I’m almost three months sober!” the father cheered, wrapping an arm around his partner’s neck to pull him closer. “Man, look at us. We’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Cecil chuckled, a little smile gracing his lips as he looked up at the inky skies above. “I… guess we are.”

 They laid down next to each other, their shoulders bumping together as they huddled under the extra blanket Dave had brought along. Alone, together on that grassy hill more than an hour away from the city, they tried to find as many constellations as they could while Cecil offered trivia and anecdotes on each of them, like the Earth’s sky map had been burned into his brain at a young age. 

But then again, with the doctor’s photographic memory, it might’ve just been.

 Ursa Major. Altair. Alpha Centauri. Supernovas. Nebulae. His eyes shone with almost feverish enthusiasm as he talked, making him look so much younger, so alive, as Dave listened with rapt attention.

Then, as the older man was going over the specifics of the supermassive black whole at the center of the Milky Way, Dave rolled them over, coming to a stop to stand on all fours above Cecil, smiling lovingly.

The German stopped rambling and blinked up at him- with his hair uncovered and framing his face in auburn curls, his deep blue eyes crinkled up in amusement, and the myriad of stars surrounding him, David looked like he belonged in a Van Gogh painting. Beautiful. Almost ethereal, yet so real, so… tangible. Oh how he wanted to frame the moment so he could keep it forever.

He gulped. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Before he could stop himself, his finger mindlessly started to trace invisible lines between Dave’s freckles, drawing a surprised giggle from the man. 

 His very own milky way. Full of constellations for him alone to name. All within his reach.

 “Shouldn’t you look up? The stars are up there.” he mumbled, thoughts not quite straight. Dave laughed, clear and deep. “Don’t need to. I can see them in your eyes. That’s more than enough for me.”

Silence. Cecil huffed. “That was the corniest thing you’ve said yet.”

“C’mon, you know you like it. You’re blushing.”

“Shut up and kiss me again, you dumm.”

 Dave happily complied.

***

It would be dawn soon. As they stared at the endless space above them- mostly void, partially stars- sipping hot tea and coffee from their respective thermoses, huddled together under a thick woolen blanket to shield themselves from the chilliness of that winter night… they felt like they’d brushed with eternity.

“Hey.” Dave whispered, breaking the comfortable silence.

A quiet hum of acknowledgement.

“Do you.. regret not going? Up there.”

“Mmh. F’course, a little still. T’was my dream.” the German mumbled, words slurring together. Right. Of course he did, dumb question. “But…”

The father blinked. “But…?”

“Wouldn’t have met… Mars. ‘liver.” A pause, an intake of breath. “Met you.”

 Dave bit his lip, his heart thumping loudly in his chest. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. He wiped at the wetness at the corner of his eyes, smiling so hard it almost hurt. “Y-Yeah. I guess so.” He squeezed his lover’s hand underneath the blanket. “Ceec…?”

 A quiet, soft snore was his only reply. Dave chuckled quietly and turned his head- Cecil was out like a light, lips slightly parted, his usually sharp features smoothed over and relaxed.

The smaller man gently reached out to cup the other’s sleeping face, his thumb slowly stroking over his cheekbone- just watching. This wasn’t a sight he was graced with often; they might have been sharing a bed for a few weeks now, but the doctor always went to sleep later than he did, and always got up before him, by the pale light of dawn… that is, when he even bothered to sleep at all.

That was the main reason why he’d dragged his partner out on this little trip- Cecil had been working himself to the bone again, going over piles and piles of old books in search for an explanation, for any information on Mars’ abilities and his newfound… condition. To no avail so far, which was driving the older man even more frantic. Between this, trying to cater to everyone’s physical and mental wellness, and the logistical nightmare that was the latest addition to their little group- an honest-to-god time-traveler… well, he looked like the slightest breeze would knock him over.

In short, he’d been in need of a break. Badly. Preferably the kind that would knock some sense into that big brain of his. Since they both had gotten together, Dave had been trying to get Cecil to take better care of himself, to stop skipping meals, to finally sleep a decent amount each night… hell, he’d started to see some actual progress before Mars was kidnapped and everything had gone to shit. 

He couldn’t let his efforts go to waste, especially not now. Not in such a delicate time, when they were all still recovering. And now, looking at Cecil, sleeping deeply and peacefully for the first time since the kid had disappeared almost a month ago… Dave was glad he hadn’t given up.

 And that he’d filled that thermos with decaf, but Ceec didn’t need to know that.

 Dave sighed contentedly as he snuggled closer to the other, burying his face in his chest and drawing the blanket higher over them both, letting himself be lulled into a comfortable drowsiness. Their backs would probably be sore from sleeping on the hard ground... but that was a problem for future them.

[estradioltone]

Why’s my stomach hurting? Why am I feeling so lonely when I have so many messages to answer? I CANNOT have another favorite person. Does that mean I’m doomed to high school loneliness?

When I was fifteen lots of people liked me AND I didn’t have a favorite person. Sean? Sam? Danica S? I’m trying to remember. Alex? Stephanie? What show did we do that year? It was Charlie Brown. Mattress, Charlie Brown, Trial by Jury, Sound of Music, and Alice. Shauna? Alex? Danni? Jonathan? Jordan? Danica made those CDs for me. Gabi? Ellery? Irene? Keziah? There were so many people. And none was the favorite. Kaz? Therone? Felicia? Deja? Corri? Jae? Cassie? Leslie? Laureen? Katy? There were so many people around me and I wasn’t the favorite and no one was my favorite. I wasn’t even talking to Amanda at that point. And I did like her. There were a number of people I was attracted to, and, I didn’t make any moves, bc I didn’t get close enough to them in terms of conversations. I needed that first. Like to be comfortable? Lauren? Was she in focus? I can’t remember much if anything about her now, and I was so into her then. Kari?

I used to change with Kari.

Oliver and his male friends used to change in front of each other.

Kari was so great. We were always friends only. I don’t think either of us ever had feelings for the other. She was such an amazing friend. Caitlin? Anna or Sarah? Sarah F? Janell? This is the first time I’ve dug into the memories of those earlier high school years. It literally feels like a backhoe digging into dirt and clearing it away. Archeologist excavating.

I remember sitting in 204 watching some movie in the dark. Mrs. H was teaching. I don’t have memories. Of what we learned. I never learned in English. I never knew what the fuck was going on I just always got A’s. I wrote that paper about having a peanut allergy. It has terrible racist stereotypes. No one called me out. No teacher. I was fifteen. Today I would e known better. Unless I was a republican. Like I was then. I was very conservative. How was I conservative? It didn’t fit with any part of how I acted. Danielle? Remember that film I made that was literally just everyone swearing. Spencer? I remember so many things. Why did I write that.

I don’t want to remember many things.

Why not? That’s so fucking weird. There are many things I don’t want to remember? Where did that thought come from?

I don’t want to remember bc it hurts too much to remember? That thought just came to me.

I wasn’t hurting during that year. I wasn’t depressed. It was like that time with M in sophomore college. Wow. In that moment sophomore looked like high school sophomore to me. It felt like being in Maine. It felt like mid August two summers ago. It’s summer. It’s June. Two summers ago he sucked my sick for the first time and I couldn’t even get hard. I knew what I was doing was wrong and I forced myself to keep going bc I wanted it. That was my fuck up moment. He kissed me that night. It was like Amanda asking to marry me what the fuck to DATE me. How did that happen? It’s in retrospect I wish I’d said no

The hurt is that if I remember I’ll double remember how

The blue waffle thermal

I remember the car and snow pants but not skiing. I remember kissing and my precut glowing like a river. I got wet like a girl. I got hard like a boy. I don’t know what’s normal.

I remember the night she came to see me at the Estonian concert. “Let’s go over here. Lots of girls like me here.” She later told me that freaked her out not freaked out it was like “ullll” what are the words that describe what that means it’s like a little oh no and yikes at the same time. It’s like when O asked me what my main interest in the relationship was and I said sex. And he had the same reaction. And I said, how could I have ever said something like that. It’s callous. And, it was honest. And then I got attached. Before I was having fun. I was happy.

And when I’m happy and having fun I behave like a disgusting jock boy. Maybe that’s who I essentially am. Maybe I’m choosing to be trans so I can become a different person. I do want to become a different person. Even then I thought back like what the fuck was I doing. Like when I touched G and C’s breasts. And I wasn’t allowed to go to cast parties. I didn’t get to do wild things. Would I have?

I was so many different people. I’m also the person at Sam’s house who was afraid to be there.

Remember Caitlins white dreads. Remember when Safi first came to school or Kylie. Remember how cool and superior you felt. Remember how everyone was lesser in your eyes. Sophie. Edna. Kendra. Nikki. That girl molly sitting on my lap and I was hard as fuck. I didn’t think of that in so long. Was that ninth grade? Or eighth?

We were at Burgerville.

I was just doing whatever I wanted.

Is that who I am in a state of nature?

And, I’m the person who stayed in my room instead of going out for a birthday party.

What was Menucha like that year

I didn’t have many years with older friends after that.

Remember Laura. You were twelve and she was seventeen. But you never really talked after the show ended. Would she hug me? Did she hug me in sixth grade? Was I happy at the end of sixth grade???? I think she hugged me by the 201 door. I can remember it now.

I drew that picture of her.

I said “your eyes aren’t quite even.” Wow that must have hurt her and I could see it in her face.

I did whatever I wanted. I thought I was cool I was trying to be cool at all times.

That was my first summer in Eugene. Jessica Zach Ted. Dr. A. Joe. Nicholas. Brahms. Komm Jesu Komm. Standing on the steps in that rehearsal room. My feet sweaty and stinky as fuck. Black like sweat things coming off my toes. My roommate was Nick.

That moment in the hallway taking down my pants. “Should we go all the way?”

Jessica wanted to be closer than I did. I fall back on ppl when I’m lonely but don’t want closeness when I’m not. I use people. I do what O did to me. He didn’t really love me? Or did he?

I’m single now but I’m not having fun but I need to give it more time and I am being more wild. I started to get wild sophomore year. Sarah G. I thought things had changed. But I didn’t want them to change bc I wanted to be unhappy there??????????????

You’re really cool for a freshman. Others wouldn’t do that.

Well I’m basically a senior bc I’ve already been at my school four years.

High school was my college time in a way. It was my amazing time and I was studying and creating big projects. College was my high school time hating things and not self actualizing and not being myself.

Did I do it on purpose???????????? Is that kind of thing possible???????? I know I’ve thought that before. Can I be faking this all? This little voice says yes. What the fuck. I have to be honest about that little voice. I have to bring it up.

She isn’t going to set the agenda. If I want to keep going on the same subject, I have to push onwards into it. What memories are there to open up there? God this is going to take so long and I want to do other things and I know I want to have done this work of digging through elementary school and things.

Honor choir I was the only freshman and I sang alone and they all clapped and cheered for me. I pooped and made the room stink and I was too embarrassed to say. I didn’t have anyone to sit with. I couldn’t sit with people who seemed cool to me. The directors were like gods. The guys were from Montana. I was wearing my first set of boxer briefs. They said I wasn’t like a normal freshman. The performance meant almost nothing. I was sick to my stomach going. I was sick to my stomach going to Eugene. I was sick to my stomach for years before undergrad. J. K. was too. She told me that later on. We read that same book.

I wanted to prove myself. That other guy was shaving and we were all sharing the bathroom. He was shaving. I took my underwear off before getting in the shower. I wanted to show myself I could. I wanted to expose myself.

Why am I so obsessed with the idea of having been molested or raped now and not earlier in my life? How could that be possible? How could I not have remembered it sooner? Or thought of it? Not in undergrad at all. I must be making up that fear. I make up my whole life. All of life is imagined and made up and fake and shit. All of life is imagined period. How am I tired again and yawning. I was always yawning with the computer on my lap. They said the computer heat makes you infertile. Did I lose my chance of having a bigger dick bc I sat a computer on my lap? I loved having a laptop. And, I never looked at porn porn. I was so abnormal. Everyone else did.

Talking with Jacob about penis size. I didn’t think about size mattering. That Hannah who later must’ve fucked Matt P. He came down with shorts so short his dick was hanging out. It was so exciting to me, and horrifying, bc I liked her. I liked so many people. I like so many people simultaneously. I jump around. I can’t find my place. Maybe I don’t have a place. Singing was my place.

I really liked Cole. How much older is he than me? Less older than I am compared to O. I think. He went to India and then he came back and did what. Was he only 24 or 25? We all thought it was fucked up that he dated Eric L and he was a senior and Eric was a freshman. He came out later. I’m so fucked. W moved on to a whole different kind of life where she has adult friends with children and she and F will probably have a kid sooner than later. She already got pregnant once.

J and M (C) are growing up a lot. I see everyone else changing so much. I’m objectively changing with HRT and whatnot. And therapy. And I don’t feel like I’m changing. When change is slow you don’t feel it. Which of these people is really me? My developmental stages are so mixed up. As a kid I fit better with adults. Even my parents say that. Now I really like nineteen year olds and twenty year olds. And, I just saw H and M tonight and there was a big gap between me and H but I was quite into M. I wanted to look at their breasts and forced myself not to. I wonder if both of them noticed and they talked about it later. I wonder how much people notice the things I try to hide. Am I good at it? Am I better than I think? Which me is really me?

I want my breasts to stay small. So I don’t get judged. I’m very worried about being judged. I’m not a women and I don’t like being called a woman. I felt like a man and no longer a boy if that makes sense. But I can be called a girl. I’m getting very agitated thinking that I’m faking being trans. We all change our gender identities bc it’s the thing to do. Conservatives are right. We should be conservatives. The conservative position is easier to defend. They never have to prove themselves. Their beliefs are the old ones. Why should we change. Life is fine. My mom doesn’t want things to change. Or I’m projecting on her. I tho m I’m better than others and I project my bad things onto them so I don’t deal with them. Is that why I feel so free?

How fucked up am I. I wrote that paper about L dying in sophomore year. I’m more introspective and controlled when I’m in a relationship. With A and W and O. Not D. I had to lie about her attractiveness. But I loved her mind. Or I loved her being there for me when I needed someone.

S isn’t comfortable with me. We went to the beach tgt with her brother. I felt she brought her brother so we would t be alone tgt. She probably knows I have feelings for her. And have for over ten years. She’s honestly so pretty. She never replies when I message her on ig. She’s had so much sex and partied so much. Idk if her hair really came back after her eating disorder. She’s a professor. A real one. Not like fake ass me. I live at home. I’m Jim the gentleman caller. I just want to relive my moment of being cool. She wasn’t cool in high school. And, she had a group. And, she’s secure in herself now. Is she? I don’t know her. She doesn’t engage with me probably bc she knows I have feelings for her. If she had feelings for me she wouldn’t react in that way. She would want to talk to me. Or she’s holding me back bc I’m a nightmare pos.

My dads bloody eyeballs. Bloody eyeball in New York.

I had introspection awake at night on my computer. Maybe if I slept more I’d have a bigger dick. They called me pancake. I’m sad that W’s life is complete without me. As I thought earlier me like O so much must make her feel the same way. S watches all my stories but never messages me. She keeps her distance on purpose and has for years. I need to stop reacting to her posts and messaging her ever. She never ever ever reacts to me. I talked to her about O. That was one of our only conversations. In the past year I mean.

I have so much left to say I have to pee I always tried to hold my excretia in.

I used to put stuff in my butt. They took me to the doctor for it I think. And in my ear. Or was that S. I know I fingered myself when I was quite young. I’ve been obsessed with pooping since forever. Obsessed. Butts. Anal phase development. Freud. We both stuck stuff inside ourselves I think. Or was it only him that stick stuff inside his butt. I can’t remember for sure. I thought it was me.

My blue basketball tracksuit. Orange basketball. So excited. Getting up early and getting fully dressed by myself. So excited. Running to my parents. It was so early. They told me to go back to sleep. They were sleeping. I couldn’t sleep. I read something. It was so boring.

Everyone was asleep at the R house. I woke up early and first and I was so bored. I went to play that football video game. My mom got mad at me for playing that game too much. Did she get mad that morning? Tf was I supposed to do????? I was bored. Why did I get disciplined for such stupid shit. That’s a reason I didn’t respect my parents. This shouldn’t be a rule. Same as eating in the living room whole watching tv.

2:30 tomorrow.

Hold on hold onnnnnnnn the bathroom at OLL.

I make up narratives of being emotionally hurt.

So many fucking thoughts!!!!!!!!

Im making up a catholic school molestation story. Or am I.

That bathroom. That bathroom. Urinals without dividers. The tall skinny ones. Just like in the bathroom but 220. 220. Second floor, room 20. Playing football with Dominick and Kyle and one other boy. Kyle is dead now. Kyle C. Kathryn was friends with him. She posted about him. Angie. Leah senior year.

Your profile picture is you with another girl.

I changed it.

How excellent. Walking with Jessica on 4th of July. Dr. A gave a speech. We stepped forward for How excellent. Why was I involved? I don’t know. I wanted to be. They taught me the song. I sang alto I think. My voice was free. Did anything hurt? I don’t remember it did. I didn’t need Ricola. Or did I. My voice got sore junior year. Not sophomore year. I could sing big. I should’ve always gotten to sing big.

I’m going into a tunnel with my practicing. I need to work on something different.

I’m squeezing my neck like crazy.

The church at OLL.

SW from church really really wants me involved in her prayer organization. I am not a believer. It’s BS. That speaker was so BS.

I need to text W.

The church has blue carpet. “Jesus died on the cross, you can stand for twenty minutes.” My legs hurt so much. I remember lighting candles but that happened in California, not here. When Aunt K got remarried. I found out much later her husband drank himself to death. They got divorced before that happened. He would drink rubbing alcohol. Steven went too fast lighting the candles. I was so mad. Don’t you know what you’re doing. But I had to stay in character. My dad has to go up and relight them. I was humiliated. I danced with Baby Anna. She didn’t recognize me after that. She was so cute. I was 10? She was probably three or four. I was so disappointed when she didn’t know me after that. We swam in our shorts. I got such a bad sunburn. My skin was peeling at the Aunt P ranch. We were reading H P. I’m still scarred from that sunburn. Left shoulder. The soda thing. They had their own automatic soda. That was so cool. Everyone else lived in the real world. Not us. We lived in church world where I wore clothes I hated. And we took family photos I hated.

I’m just born evil nothing happened to me I’ve just always been evil and bad.

I looked in the mirror in the same bathroom mirror the same bathroom mirror where I shaved my unibrow when I was mocked I still do or was I even mocked I was just afraid of being mocked why do I have a unibrow why am I the weird one how can anyone love me when I’m so weird

But it’s not the same mirror bc that ugly cupboard got replaced and the door was so broken and I shared it with S and A. Sharing is such a nightmare. This house is pretty small for three kids and two adults it was at capacity. I wonder if that’s why we fought so much.

I didn’t work on the book today again.

The book.

Not my book.

Not even his book.

The book.

Where’s the ownership dumdum dumbass

But even if it’s not the same mirror it’s the same thought. I looked in the mirror and I believe I even said out loud just now

Crazy that I don’t remember

But if I said it out loud my parents would’ve heard

Why don’t I want my parents to know anything

Did they know when Z said he would kill me if he could or he stole all my friends

I was talking about how Lindsay Lohan was naked in parent trap. She must not have known I said. That excited me so much. Being naked. She was naked. It’s bad but it turns me on so much. It’s not appropriate but I’m so into it.

Even T said my obsession with sex is abnormal. But she agreed with me saying that. Maybe she was just pushing me to do more thinking. Idk if others are telling the truth for sure. My moral compass is off. I always want or need an external standard. This is right. This is wrong. I’m bad. I’m a sinner. If I just be myself I do terrible things. I say I’m just in it for the sex. I say all these girls here like me.

He said what did we used to listen to? Jonsi?

Adele too I said

It’s so fucking weird that we message at all.

It’s weird FOR ME that we message

God I’m so far off topic

Did he really forget what we listened to? Are our moments tgt not seared into his brain like laser and fire? I remember everything. I remember his letter. I remember meeting him by the chapel. I remember sitting on the bench outside the music department and we sat for so long and I was thinking this is weird I should leave but he just kept talking and then it was bc he liked me. I’m sure I still have that first letter in my box of heartbreak which is actually an oversized envelope. I remember seeing him from down the hall and feeling so happy. Am. I really gay? And that happiness was real. And maybe I was his gf and that’s why it didn’t feel gay

If I was abused how come I can have sex without being triggered

After a lifetime of being obsessed with sex how come it doesn’t feel good

I never lose myself in it

It just doesn’t feel that good. Masturbating feels better. Did I not have the right partner

I see little me in a dress

Instead I was in stupid fucking clothes I hated

I wore white socks at St. Luke’s with black pants. My mom told me dont. I didn’t want to listen. Then she was right. She was self satisfied afterwards. “yyyyyyyyyyEP.” Why tf were we even at St. Luke’s. S and A lived behind St. Luke’s. They were so cool. BC was there. I talked about having written an opera. He must’ve been like wtf. I saw him at undergrad at a concert. M said to me who was that guy you were talking to and said he was sexy or something. He was. I wasn’t into him though.

Oh my fucking god I’m so off topic AND I want to get this whole thought out.

S and A were so cool. I can talk to A bc I don’t have sexual interest in him. It was a long time before I knew he was trans. I was trying to put so much stuff together. They were both so fucking cool. S isn’t that cool now to me. And it’s hard for me to talk to her calmly. She had meds. I’m sure she has problems like I have. Maybe that’s why our relationship became weird. Weirdly close but not close and I was always yearning for more like I did with B. But I knew I couldn’t !!!!! That was so fucked up. My legs twitched. I wanted to be her.

Hating boy dress clothes. I always have.

Wanting to be an older woman.

But I’m totally cis.

What am I

I looked in the mirror now like I always did in high school and said I think out loud WHO ARE YOU in an emphatic tone of voice. My face and voice were serious. My eyes were wide. My mouth was set. WHO ARE YOU didn’t mean what’s wrong with you in this case.

Katy is commenting to me again it’s the most interaction we’ve had in years why am I not giving more energy back why am I being aloof maybe bc she out distance there and I’m trying to keep myself safe or I’m hurt or I’m just consumed with other things or I just don’t feel close to her. Her not talking to me hurt a lot. Stop distracting from topic!!!!!!!!!!! T hurt a lot. Then T sent that heart emoji to my post today after “stay well”

Alright

Idk what that means and W sees it so simply and straightforward and I just don’t.

That’s not who she was

I’m obsessed with WAS

WHO ARE YOU meant which of these many different versions of yourself that you experience and present is the real one? How can there be so many?????

I did outpatient at the hospital near sams house and Sam dated Irene and Irene announced her engagement today and both of Irenes parents are dead and we haven’t spoken in decades but were still connected online.

I wish I was walking in snow like when I was hurting over D and I walked so far and my mom called me like what the fuck you’re going to get attacked and I said I used to walk the streets of New York much later than this

Sam dated K and he was never the same after that. I was there with Gabi and Kari and we made deep fried lovin and it was amazing and we loved it and Sam and I could never recapture that although we tried a few times. He always said “what do you want to do” and I didn’t know and neither of us had an idea. I went to so many weird ass coffee meets and hangouts in those first few years after high school. A had a pool party or something. When was the slip n slide party. We had all those AGT parties and tried to recreate or simply create the social life and friends over we should’ve had in high school and I believe my mom was extremely happy bc that’s what she had always wanted, to be the party house, like all the kids coming to play at her house when she was a kid. But how could anyone like coming here with the way she acted. We actually were a party house in elementary school. There’s that day when we all played in the rain and I was wearing red sweatpants. There’s the picture where I wanted the attention and I stood in front of the whole group sideways catching snowflakes on my tongue. We played smear the queer in the frosty grass. The athletic boys were the coolest. K’s older brother Dylan was called superstar on the soccer field. We played so many games at OLL. Do you remember tether ball. Words look weird rn what are letters even. Wall ball and black magic and double black magic and triple black magic and quadruple black magic and four square and kickball and soccer and basketball god we were so competitive it was amazing and so fun

Kickball on the asphalt we always had scraped knees who approved that who let us play like that. Brandon fell and left his teeth in the asphalt or at least that was my image of it. Zero the Hero. One hundreds day. Turbo math. Writing books. Everyone else knew things I didn’t. Star Wars. Everyone knew things I didn’t.

We couldn’t be the party house in middle school. She wasn’t safe. I wanted to die. I deserved to die bc I was so disobedient.

Who was I? The no friends middle school. Won’t let myself poop disgusting fart everyone smelled it too scared to pee off the stairs I had to get approval to go to the outhouse too scared to spray the wasp nest taking down the pole and failing and smashing my hand and it had that big scab and I washed it with hand sanitizer bf that was all I had and maybe that’s what caused my blood clot but it happened so many weeks later how did it happen so much later. I was so into J in college junior year and then she told me the story about fucking that other guy when they were drunk. She even Skyped me. She loved that one guy and then he picked someone else and it ruined everything and I was always starving and eating my cereal too fast but I didn’t want to spend money buying more I only went to Cub like once we rode the bus and took so many pictures and I looked so happy in that moment. And R was there. Before he assaulted me. I didn’t want to touch his dick the memory of touching his dick is literally making me shake rn I need to stop it was so hard and small he was everywhere on campus he did whatever he wanted he was loud everyone loved him stop thinking about him!!!!!!!!!!!

My neck and arms are so tense rn what is wrong with me why did I have so many social problems putting my backpack in those cubbies when we went to eat I was so scared it would be stolen I took it with me I was the only one it was so stupid I was such an envarrassing person I’ve been so controlled in my life by embarrassment only the Asian kids ran they didn’t care what anyone thought of them we laughed at them that was so typical mocking any difference. I read the books of school history trying to understand the values and I finally did I didn’t fit in!!!!!!!!!!!!! But I have R and E and C.

The protests are dying down. We’re at the limit of change. It’ll take another death to rile this back up. That’s disgusting but I think it’s true. Things were done in Portland at about 9:30.

I feel sick. I feel legitimately sick.

I feel so sick and my ears are ringing great!!!!!!!!!!! And I saw T and her boyfriend and thought about how I want sex and I’m not fuckable. Which maybe I am. Maybe that’s my essential self. Unfuckable and insecure and anxious and scared of being different and scared of being judged and bc of this always already different and trying to be different so I stand out as a star but not wanting to stand out at the same time. Do I even like singing or like music or do I just want to be famous. I have been so confident that I would be famous. I’m so confident in my ideas. I’m so smart. No one can be more right than me. My co fife to self is despicable.

Maybe I loved being fifteen and being with M and being at A M F and two summers ago with O bc I wasn’t this disgusting insecure person but everyone liked me. I’ve been thinking that that person is my essential self. But maybe the whole thing is that thats NOT ME AT ALL. I’m not meant to be a star or be anyone I’m meant to be a worm and disappear and be nowhere and that’s why I do t have groups and that’s why no one liked me at undergrad and at the same time didn’t I keep myself out of groups on purpose so I would keep honoring high school? Like we keep honoring Leah. Just like I keep holding onto the pain of O to honor the relationship that we had and prove my real love for him. He’s moved on more than I could ever imagine moving on except that’s not true in the sense that I don’t know anything but I must be ABSOLUTELY clear with myself when I say that the reason it’s not true is because whatever I say is an assumption and I’m working on not making assumptions about other people at this point in my life bc I need to act on what people say bc I’m not at all a mind reader. And, I hope that he is thinking of me. But I’m playing with myself. He’s fine if he was here then he would be here. He might be in another state he might be in a whole other relationship.

Don’t fake yourself out. He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s not coming back.

He’s moved on.

He’s moved on.

He’s moved on.

He had at least one other relationship.

He might not be single now.

He’s moved on.

He’s not coming back.

I need to finish this. I avoid the real point. Why does my brain do that. And I want to write down every thought. Why so many digressions

Okay then

I’m typing with my eyes closed sometimes which is something I used to do in high school while I was typing late into the night exactly like I am right now. S always lay facedown on his bed which I thought was fucking weird bc I only lay facedown to masturbate.

He did that in the day time

I kissed so many objects after reading the Star Wars novelization

We played Nanosaur at catholic school and public school.

The computers were in the portable

I never got to play as much as I wanted to

The computers were in the library and I played type to learn. I was watching Star Trek tng with my dad on a summer night and it enthralled me I couldn’t tell when special effects were bad at that age. We had to leave I had indoor soccer with Kirill’s dad and he was a star in the Soviet Union he said but who knows and I went to his house one time to play video games and it was a small apartment and I was so surprised. The preps took him in instantly but why not me WHAT WAS WRONG WITH ME WHY IS MY GRIUP THE PPL WHO ARE WEIRD SS FUCK

We funked in the halls people laughed at how I didn’t know how to move myself or in anyway be in my body and I couldn’t let go why couldn’t I let go people who let go looked so cool Sam was our mascot at that high school duhduhduh day I didn’t know what tf I was doing there why was I in ASB it just seemed like the thing to do we tied I was relieved when I lost I missed the midnight going into the secret places in the school thing fuck my life I missed so many things I wanted

GOD DAMN JT

There were younger boys who went to pee in our one and only bathroom and they took their pants all the way down to their ankles and the older boys came in and made fun of them while they were still right there and I heard it and made sure not to be like the kindergarten boys so I wouldn’t be made fun of. I think I peed like that before that day. It didn’t matter??? Smooth white butts. There was one brown person in the class named Tharik. Maybe not but we were so white.

Is there anything else to remember about that moment?

Sinks where you pushed the bar at the feet to turn on the water

I’ve been to so many airport sinks and the urinals have no dividers

I always prayed no one else would be in the bathroom why was I so scared to pee beside someone I would be seen why didn’t I want to be seen? Other times I was dying to be seen. How did my desires change so much

Why was I obsessed with sex. I had fantasies of Hoth of magic school bus I was naked in so many. I didn’t want the doctor to examine my penis. I said can my mom do it instead and tell you. No he said but she can sit in the room. Okay he said. I was so scared. Why was I so scared. Why didn’t I handle it normally. Why I’m gods name would I want my mom to see my dick. What the fuck was wrong with me.

Is there ever a time I look back on myself and think wow that was a good decision I’m proud of that. No! I have happy moments like being the only freshman in honor choir or playing the zither or whatever it’s called with A

Am I more evolved than I was then

I choose not to act or do anything bc at least that way I can’t make any mistakes and not acting is also a mistake I can’t bear to do what I did in the past and then somehow I do it before I realize I’m doing it

Why was I obsessed with sex

I read about luke and Leia kissing in that movelization and I kissed so many things around the house trying to capture the description from the boom of how her lips felt. There were choose your own adventure books and i always imagined myself in them and unmade so many self insert fantasies where all the characters were still there. the boys were my friends and the girls were my lovers. I think OLL was where I read junior Jedi knights. We used to go to the library so much the old one and I read through so much Star Wars and Star Trek science fiction. I was never attracted to the boys. I never judged the stories I just enjoyed the imagination. And I read Ancient Greek mhths. I’m a fucking nerd and nothing nobody who got thrust into the center stage and suddenly I had some popularity and then I had that personality push and pull. Always being criticized. A criticized me and W criticized me after my recital like right after and A took down the program in Eugene and Ö tore me apart so many times including after the MC. Anneke was so fucking attractive.

God

I never should have had attention. I liked so much stupid nerd stuff. But I was cool in elementary school. I feel like wherever I am I try to make the stuff I like cool and bring people to me. I can’t fit into them. Music is a great way to do that bc everyone loves music.

I have always had false ideas of who I am but when I’m depressed I can be realistic. That’s why it’s good for me to be depressed. I’m a sinner and no good and deserve it. I deserve to feel bad. It’s penance. I deserve it.

That’s not what I should feel and that’s not what my brain feels but I write down stuff like that bc that’s what my heart is saying. Those could even be in quotes. That’s being said by a different me inside me if that makes any sense.

I’m so privileged. What do people think when they see me. Do I not have more followers and more story views bc I’m a fucking loser and that’s what people see? But I liked myself. I liked what I saw. I liked it. But it wasn’t or isn’t good enough for other people. My opinions grate. My opinions drive people away. Why do I always have such strong opinions.

I never do anything part way

I started masurbating so early. How did I find it

Don’t message back fast. They’re very inconsistent. You’re hoping for much more than they will ever give. You give what you look to receive. You don’t give what people deserve. You don’t give based on the real quality of your relationship but by what you want it to be or you give without regard for yourself and only regard for pleasing the other. A. W. O. D.

No boundaries. Too many boundaries. Inappropriate feelings. I do so much to avoid inappropriate feelings.

What’s inappropriate

Wrong

You should have sexual feelings for that person

You shouldn’t like people that much older or that much younger. I never knew him when he wasn’t an adult I stg

I can’t remember any sexual feelings at all in third grade. I remember so many times when I thought wby dont I like anyone. I remember like forcing myself to like K in fifth grade. I end up dating or whatever people I’m not attracted to. I see someone in them that isn’t the real them and then I expect them to act like that person

I guess I tried to change O. I’m the bad one

Idk if that’s true that I tried to change him.

But I definitely might say x is a good decision in my opinion. Stuff like that.

Am I asexual? The question doesn’t stop coming back to me.

Can I remember anything. I don’t fucking know.

I played with my penis from a time when I was very young.

W feels natural for me but wrong. That’s not who I am.

K doesn’t feel natural these days most of the time and idk why. Is she just a costume :( I don’t want her to be but maybe she is. I have to face all my inner voices. Avoiding them has hurt me a lot.

I don’t see people for who they are. For who they are inside I see them. Nope. That’s my projection. Who I think they could be which is another way of saying who I want them to be. Stupid stupid stupid.

Zuko

Rubbing my dick on my bed felt good. Rubbing it on blankets felt better. Pulling down my pants and then pulling down my underwear. Better and better and better. I didn’t think to masturbate with my hand for years. I went through so much shampoo. I came in so many showers. Once I was scared I would get my sister pregnant bc I came in the tub. I came in my grandparents’ bathrooms. Both of them. My dads dad doesn’t hardly seem like part of the family.

Why don’t i remember more?

Because there’s nothing else to remember.

Each experience is a different me. How will I ever know who the me me is. So many different selves. So many masks. A different person around every single person. Only O and D knew the full me. Not A or W. They were my sex friends and we were in a relationship. Sex was what I wanted. I turned into their emotional support doll. They didn’t support me. I don’t tell W things. She isn’t on my sinsta. I haven’t told her about it. She would be hurt that I didn’t. And that I wouldn’t add her. Don’t give people things they can’t handle. She doesn’t use my girl name. I wonder if O knows I changed my name online. It doesn’t matter. He’s not part of it.

She doesn’t understand a lot. A doesn’t understand a lot. There are these lines right. They’re not like me. But we have sex. Sex is so important to me bc they’re sex friends. But then I get sucked in emotionally. Same with O. We were sex friends that got emotional.

I never had sex that satisfied me.

There’s a gap of why sex why me. Etc. Why secret. I’ve always been a secret whore like lots of white girls.

I’m obsessed with symmetry too. I’m not normal. I hate seeing S’s name in my text suggestions or whatever they’re called. predictive text.

I’ve always been obsessed with symmetry. Idk where that came from. I can’t stand asymmetry in my body which ofc we all have bc nothing is perfect in nature in a mathematical sense.

Left right right left

Up left down right down left up right

I do that pattern constantly. Teeth tongue mouth eyes feet

I’ve done that since forever. Why

Idk

Nothing comes from nothing but that doesn’t mean it came from severe sexual trauma either

I’m trying to find trauma just find sexual thoughts in the past instead

Like my dad giving me that one shirt sex talk and how uncomfortable it was and how I thought about balls or how sex was always trash and we had to go to bed when our parents were watching a movie did they ever make out there was no physicality in their relationship ever. She has her couch my dad has his chair

I don’t want to be physical with them I do with everyone else maybe I’m the abuser maybe I was born that way I kissed everyone they didn’t want it maybe Mrs. H was right to punish me that way. I feel like my sexual interest started before kindergarten

Masturbatimg has always been fantasy time. Sometimes memory time. Sometimes creating fantasy memories. Sometimes living out things I read. Erotica really is the superior porn

I masturbated like crazy, and, I didn’t know any sexual terms. Bisexual is when the woman is older than the man LMAO

I think already in first grade or so I didn’t tell my parents about school. I didn’t want to. Everyone knew who we were. Big ass silver van. We always were the last to leave anything. Always talking like crazy. Public was our only freedom even though it was our fake selves. I kicked the rock into Mrs. G’s ankle. My mom shouted at me. We were just playing. AND I know that I knew I was being risky. We ran laps around the school. It was always hard for me. Running. I always hated it. I couldn’t push myself. That Mikaela or Michaela or however she spelled her name was ahead of me on the sidewalk. She was faster than me. We ran laps under the covered area. That was where we were allowed to play during rain time. I told Jesse she was dat and she said that’s a black mark on my soul and a sin. H E L L H E double L H E double hockey sticks

I peed my pants and somehow Mrs. H knew

[ao3feed-destiel]

Unanimously Anomalous

Read it on AO3 here!https://ift.tt/2O8B1ve

by Jocosely_Wincestuous

Much like in all other aspects of biology, the Alpha, Beta, Omega system doesn't fit everyone so neatly. There are outliers, people living their lives outside of the trichotomy they're forced to put so much stock into. Some go through their entire lives without presenting at all, some present with traits of multiple subsexes, and others just know their presentation is incorrect. Being made to feel like a freak isn't an abnormal occurrence for members of these groups, almost being tricked into thinking that their bodies are inherently wrong, some kind of cosmic mistake that requires correcting. Dean Winchester understands this blurred line of reality and walks it everyday of his life. Presenting as both an alpha and omega as a teenager made him consider his options in life with a father who can't stand male omegas; he left the second he had the chance and is having a go at college away from home. This massive change seems like it might be made easier by an unlikely group of friends, so maybe it won't be so bad after all. Please note that I am coming from this concept as a transgender and intersex individual myself, this isn't about fetishization, it's about life experiences that parallel my own and others like me.

Words: 3783, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Kevin Tran, Gabriel (Supernatural), Charlie Bradbury, Original Male Character(s)

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte/Original Character(s), Benny Lafitte/Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Multipresenter, Nonpresenter, Transpresenting, Omega Verse, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Dysphoria, Body Dysphoria, trans feels, Intersex Feels, Alternate Universe - College/University, John Winchester Being an Asshole

Link: https://ift.tt/2O8B1ve

[ao3feed--destiel]

by Jocosely_Wincestuous

Much like in all other aspects of biology, the Alpha, Beta, Omega system doesn't fit everyone so neatly. There are outliers, people living their lives outside of the trichotomy they're forced to put so much stock into. Some go through their entire lives without presenting at all, some present with traits of multiple subsexes, and others just know their presentation is incorrect. Being made to feel like a freak isn't an abnormal occurrence for members of these groups, almost being tricked into thinking that their bodies are inherently wrong, some kind of cosmic mistake that requires correcting. Dean Winchester understands this blurred line of reality and walks it everyday of his life. Presenting as both an alpha and omega as a teenager made him consider his options in life with a father who can't stand male omegas; he left the second he had the chance and is having a go at college away from home. This massive change seems like it might be made easier by an unlikely group of friends, so maybe it won't be so bad after all. Please note that I am coming from this concept as a transgender and intersex individual myself, this isn't about fetishization, it's about life experiences that parallel my own and others like me.

Words: 3783, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Kevin Tran, Gabriel (Supernatural), Charlie Bradbury, Original Male Character(s)

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte/Original Character(s), Benny Lafitte/Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Multipresenter, Nonpresenter, Transpresenting, Omega Verse, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Dysphoria, Body Dysphoria, trans feels, Intersex Feels, Alternate Universe - College/University, John Winchester Being an Asshole

via AO3 works tagged 'Castiel/Dean Winchester'

[ao3feed-castiel]

Unanimously Anomalous

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2O8B1ve

by Jocosely_Wincestuous

Much like in all other aspects of biology, the Alpha, Beta, Omega system doesn't fit everyone so neatly. There are outliers, people living their lives outside of the trichotomy they're forced to put so much stock into. Some go through their entire lives without presenting at all, some present with traits of multiple subsexes, and others just know their presentation is incorrect. Being made to feel like a freak isn't an abnormal occurrence for members of these groups, almost being tricked into thinking that their bodies are inherently wrong, some kind of cosmic mistake that requires correcting. Dean Winchester understands this blurred line of reality and walks it everyday of his life. Presenting as both an alpha and omega as a teenager made him consider his options in life with a father who can't stand male omegas; he left the second he had the chance and is having a go at college away from home. This massive change seems like it might be made easier by an unlikely group of friends, so maybe it won't be so bad after all. Please note that I am coming from this concept as a transgender and intersex individual myself, this isn't about fetishization, it's about life experiences that parallel my own and others like me.

Words: 3783, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Kevin Tran, Gabriel (Supernatural), Charlie Bradbury, Original Male Character(s)

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte/Original Character(s), Benny Lafitte/Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Multipresenter, Nonpresenter, Transpresenting, Omega Verse, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Dysphoria, Body Dysphoria, trans feels, Intersex Feels, Alternate Universe - College/University, John Winchester Being an Asshole

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2O8B1ve

[chocolateheal]

You Should Experience Information About Chocolate Factory At Least Once In Your Lifetime And Here’s Why | information about chocolate factory

By Kharisma McIlwaineRaised in Maryland appropriate alfresco of D.C., David Samuel began his adventure into the apple of acting in his backward boyish years. Afterwards declining at allure three times, he accomplished that a career as a doctor was not in the stars. Samuel again confused advanced with his affection for the theater, which advance him to abstraction the art formally, accepting his MFA in Acting from Brown University/Trinity Repertory Company.

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He eventually fabricated the move to New York and began anguish the pavement auditioning. Although Samuel is not new to the amphitheater world, he is adequately new to agreeable amphitheater as a profession. Samuel batten with the SUN about his adventure to advancing agreeable theater, and the alley that led to him landing the role of “Mr. Beauregarde”in the aboriginal civic bout of Roald Dahl’s “Charlie and The Chocolate Factory.”

“I started accomplishing musicals professionally this year,” Samuel said. “When I advised agreeable amphitheater in college, I had this abstruse dream to be in musicals. Back I went to my bounded library, I activate the aboriginal Broadway casting recording of “In The Heights.” I address music, I rap and I sing. I played this recording in my car as I would drive to academy in the morning. My parents are Ethiopian and they immigrated here. So audition the accomplished aboriginal bearing American account absolutely resonated with me…. and the actuality that they were singing appealed to my agreeable interests and absolutely ashore out to me.I’m alert to it and I’m arrant in my car thinking, ‘this is amazing… how do I do article like this?’”

19 Facts About “Willy Wonka And The Chocolate Factory” | FizX – information about chocolate factory | information about chocolate factory

“Charlie and The Chocolate Factory” tells the adventure of Charlie Bucket, his grandfather, and the bright characters and adolescent challenge winners he meets on his adventure through Willy Wonka’s factory. Afterwards abandoned two auditions, Samuel landed the role of Mr. Beauregarde. He batten about his angle on arena the ancestor of the iconic character, Violet.

“It’s the adventure of this ancestor who wants his babe to be a star. He creates this activity for her and makes abiding that she’s set up to be financially abiding forever. He additionally wants to get a little flash on his end so he can attending good. I committed to the abstraction that he cared about his babe and loves her, aloof as abundant as he cares about announcement her cast and acceptance on amusing media.”

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The civic assembly of “Charlie and The Chocolate Factory” takes $.25 and pieces from the book, the Gene Wilder blur and the Johnny Depp blur in a way that will still bell and affix with people. Samuel discusses some of the differences in this civic bout adaptation.

“The Beauregardes are Black and there were no Black families in the aboriginal film. That abandoned – that representation I anticipate is important,” Samuel said. “The affair I accept to admonish myself is that the adventure centrally is about Charlie, Willy Wonka and this adolescent boy with imagination, dreams and hopes who appetite to actualize a bigger activity for his ancestors and cull them out of their atrocious situation. What we activate to accept the added we abide to do this musical, is that these characters portray some of the antithesis of life. It’s the antithesis of that storytelling, of assuming that there are bodies who alive this way and there are bodies that alive a altered way, who accomplish with their hearts and accomplish with the best of intentions. Hopefully that’s what we booty abroad from the musical… that love, compassion, caring for others and seeing the possibilities in the apple can be adored and agitated forward, abnormally in this accepted abode that our country is in.”

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“Charlie and The Chocolate Factory” is a adventure about achievement and possibility, imagination, the adorableness of adolescence and the accent of family. Samuel aggregate his hopes for what the admirers will acquaintance afterwards seeing this show.

“The affair I achievement the admirers walks abroad with it is that they can airing out into the apple and brainstorm article greater than what’s there, and be able to see article back all the possibilities assume hopeless. Charlie has a brace of songs in the appearance and again there’s a arena area he’s aloof apperception things. He’s apperception things area if you apprehend it from a child, it sounds ridiculous. Those accouchement who are able to brainstorm and see the world, become our leaders, and become bodies who are able to accompany absolute activity to the apple and lift others up. I anticipate both adults and accouchement can booty that home with them. The apple is the way it is now… but we can brainstorm article absolutely altered aural our power, aural our minds and that’s a admirable thing.”

Charlie And The Chocolate Factory (Colour Edn) by Roald Dahl … – information about chocolate factory | information about chocolate factory

Keep up with all things David Samuel by visiting his website at: www.kingofaxum.com or by afterward him on Instagram at: @kingaxum. “Charlie and The Chocolate Factory” will be at The Academy of Music from November 6th through November 18th.

Visit https://ift.tt/1TglRzY for added advice on tickets and showtimes.

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[thehappysharkcollectorthing-blog]

Micronutrients.

Guy, as in the skin care planet (as well as every walk of life) go through the 'marketing push'. Paul Dickson, writer of Battle Jargon: American Fighting Terms and Expressions Given that the Civil War, composes that battles produce terrific physical bodies from foreign language that sound as different as do a firearm, a M-1, as well as a missile." Yet while the shade improvements, the targets that come in for the slang-treatment are actually fairly classic: the challenge from overlooking a lady back home, the dangers from mingling with ladies on the face, the requirement from experiencing death (typically with hangings wit), and also certainly, the awful meals. The United States Empire is actually no various-- our males returned and wrote about the Public Battle, about the Spanish-American Battle, concerning WWI, concerning WWII. B) Screen the health from your thyroid, as the functionalities from your thyroid gland are going to rapidly decelerate if your cortisol is elevated for an abnormally extended period of time. Middle-aged guys likewise have found the most significant growth in suicide rates over the last 15 years. Gynecomastia influences about 1 in 4 males between the grows older of FIFTY as well as 80, baseding upon the Mayo Medical clinic The ailment typically really isn't severe or damaging. There are a lot of high-grade, free of cost tips offered for well-balanced consuming plans that offer additional details on part measurements, overall fat intake, exactly what to consume even more of, and exactly what to eat much less of in order to get healthy and balanced as well as keep by doing this. Travelers and their groups of males would drink mug after cup from it as a barrier from the morale and strength-sapping task of tramping throughout an icy, austere garden. In addition, a 2006 Parade/Research! The U.S.A. survey located that, though nearly everybody (89 per-cent) thought that mental as well as bodily health were every bit as essential, two-thirds felt that bodily wellness was actually managed with more significant relevance in our present health care system. Male deny to be given truth- bad or good, as well as typically are dishonored by a shallow watered-down strategy. Few of Australia's terrific guys had so hard a life, handful of therefore fearlessly conquered such formidable obstacles. Radio hobbyists delight in connecting straight along with people off around the planet while expanding their understanding of radio concept. I observe in the media in the UK an actual dumbing down of guys that is truthfully unhealthy and at its worst, prejudiced. Hey, CBS, if Pair of as well as a Fifty percent Male launches again, I'll call off whatever other plannings I possess therefore I can easily view this. Benefit: Charlie. Surgical treatment is actually usually booked for men along with complications, featuring recurring blood stream in the urine, recurrent urinary-tract contaminations, renal breakdown, as well as sac rocks. Millennials were brought up along with individual cell phones, and found an entire new globe from web get access to, featuring adult porn at their fingertips, on-demand YouTube, texting, snapchat, and also video gaming. Wanting you the greatest throughout 2014! ... Can't wait for us all to delve into this big ol' globe together this year, what an experience. Reduced testosterone level amounts could add to lessened libido, impotence, fragile bones, as well as various other health and wellness concerns.. We need men that want to accept the lengthy road of building and also cultivating a loved ones. The ordinary suitable loved ones utilized to become 2.1 kids: one to substitute each moms and dad as well as 0.1 to account for youngster death costs. Several males experience declining sex drive as they age-- and physiology is actually a factor. Entrepreneur Greg Caplan thought of the tip of Remote Year since he wanted to travel the planet after leaving his job at Groupon in 2013.. The percentage of Americans disclosing that they understand a person who deals with a mental illness has stayed shockingly constant, regardless of increased determination to review such problems. Healthy People/Healthy Economic condition: A Campaign making Massachusetts the National Forerunner in Health and Health. The Planet Health and wellness Organization (THAT) determines that regarding 7.4 thousand individuals died of heart disease in 2012. Get More Info of Thirty Three The Collection will definitely aid you start to believe purposefully about being actually a dad. Create the traditional heritage from pumpkin creating extra special through finding a wonderful pumpkin spot that you return to each year, having a hayride while certainly there, and creating an entire pumpkin-themed dish to anticipate the creating (fruit soup, pumpkin bread, pumpkin cake ...). So despite striking back bacon, eggs, whole milk, as well as steak for four months, I still possessed well-balanced cholesterol degrees. Your image, your design, that is actually letting the globe understand that you are and how you think regarding on your own. There's no short-cut to paying for this financial obligation, neither can you elude this is actually continual and difficult results on your wellness. I am actually rather specific that the suggestion infection of radical islamic terror can easily likewise reply to psychological wellness procedures, the moment our team find out the best technique. Our team owe this to our own selves and also the globe around our team to give ourselves the most effective possible odds our team have at growing, regardless of our pasts. However genetics play a substantial part, as well as guys that possess shut male loved ones along with MPB possess a considerably greater danger from creating MPB on their own. That would certainly be great to find some far healthier or a better balance of dishes here to motivate really good consuming behaviors with your audiences.

[aristitech-blog]

How Apple tracks your area without assent, and why it is important A log document on your 3G-empowered iPhone or iPad demonstrates almost every place you've .

If you haven't yet empowered encoded reinforcements for your iPhone or iPad, now's unquestionably an opportunity to begin. Two security specialists have found a straightforward approach to delineate where you've been anyplace on the planet—with no hacking included. The data originates from an area store document found inside your iPhone's reinforcements on your Mac or PC, bringing out genuine protection concerns and opening the entryway for a desirous companion, criminal, or even a sly trojan to investigate your whereabouts. Furthermore, it's data that nobody ought to approach—not even law authorization, excepting a court arrange.

Analysts Alasdair Allan and Pete Warden uncovered their discoveries on Wednesday in front of their introduction at the Where 2.0 gathering occurring in San Francisco. The two found that the iPhone or 3G iPad—anything with 3G information get to, so no iPod touch—are logging area information to a document called consolidated.db with scope and longitude coodinates and a timestamp. The information accumulation seems, by all accounts, to be related with the dispatch of iOS 4 last June, implying that numerous clients (us at Ars included) have about a year of stalking information gathered.

Keeping in mind the end goal to effectively express the idea, the two built up an open source application called iPhone Tracker that gives anybody with access to your PC a chance to see where you've been. For instance, my log seems to begin on June 23, 2010 (one day before the dispatch of the iPhone 4) and shows almost every trek I've ever taken from that point forward and when. You can see that I appear to invest the vast majority of my energy in Chicago and every so often suburbia, with street trips down to Indianapolis, Cincinnati, Springfield, and Wichita. I additionally travel to New York City and San Francisco, and I have a couple dabs at the Tokyo Narita airplane terminal when I went through there in October.What's not indicated is seven days in length trip I took to Hong Kong in October. Why? Since I cleared out my iPhone's cell and information associations killed and just utilized GPS with WiFi while I was there. Yet, in the event that I know I utilized GPS in Hong Kong so as to make geotagged tweets and photographs, shouldn't it appear in this log record? The appropriate response is no, and the purpose for it ought to terrify you.

Court arrange required—or not

From the end-client perspective, Apple just does one sort of area following, and it happens by means of GPS. The organization makes a point to advise you on your iPhone or iPad each time you utilize an application that will get your GPS area so that you're generally educated of when you're being followed. Nonetheless, that is not too's going ahead in the background. Apple additionally triangulates your area from wireless towers and logs that data keeping in mind the end goal to help get a quicker GPS bolt (or to discover your area without GPS in case you're getting awful GPS flag).

Allan and Warden call attention to in their iPhone Tracker FAQ this is in fact the technique Apple is utilizing as a part of the consolidated.db record, and this is additionally the reason clients may see abnormal iPhone Tracker dabs in spots they haven't been.

"To the extent we can tell, the area is dictated by triangulating against the closest mobile phone towers. This isn't as exact as GPS, yet probably takes less power," they composed. "At times it can get exceptionally befuddled and incidentally believe you're a few miles from your real area, however these have a tendency to be discontinuous glitches."

Clients don't get the chance to choose whether their areas are followed by means of cell towers or—much the same as GPS, there is no setting that gives clients a chance to kill it, there's no express assent each time it happens, and there's no real way to obstruct the logging. (Nitpickers will call attention to that you do give your agree to iTunes when you download and introduce iOS 4, yet this is not regarded an indistinguishable route from the agree given to the iPhone each time an application needs to utilize GPS.) So, regardless of whether you're utilizing GPS, in case you're utilizing your iPhone as a mobile phone, you are being followed and logged continually without your insight. This is the reason my outing to Hong Kong wasn't logged (in light of the fact that I had all phone associations killed while GPS was on), yet my stop-over in Tokyo Narita on a similar trek was logged (I had turned on my telephone to make a speedy call, yet did not utilize GPS).

Obviously, the way that this information exists some place is just the same old thing new. Cell organizations have been following this triangulation data for their own particular purposes for a considerable length of time. In the US, nonetheless, normal individuals can't get to that information—law authorization must get a court arrange before they can get it for an examination, and your desirous life partner can't get it from the remote organization by any means.

What the cellco has on you is currently essentially being reflected in a record on your iPhone or iPad with no sort of encryption, and is likewise being duplicated to your PC. (Allan and Warden say that, as indicated by their examination, no different telephones log triangulated cell areas along these lines, including Android telephones.) And, in the event that you leave iTunes on the default matching up settings, your iPhone reinforcements aren't being encoded on the PC either, making instruments like iPhone Tracker conceivable.

Who approaches now?

So your iPhone—and most likely your PC—now both have a document that mirrors information that was already constrained to law authorization, which itself was just ready to acquire it from a court arrange. Without encoded reinforcements, somebody who approaches your PC can see your whereabouts. "By inactively logging your area without your authorization, Apple have made it feasible for anybody from a desirous life partner to a private specialist to get a definite photo of your developments," the group composed.

Be that as it may, regardless of the possibility that you check the container to scramble your iPhone reinforcements on the PC, the document is still decoded on your iPhone, and it wouldn't be hard for somebody with sick expectations to get to it.

"Anybody with a decent jailbreaking instrument could get it off the telephone as well. Furthermore, obviously my criminology instruments," iPhone programmer and legal sciences master Jonathan Zdziarski told Ars. "Truth be told even the old SSH worms (which are as yet viable on an extensive number of handsets) could be altered to gather this. It's a piece of the Core Location store on the telephone. Thus, it's not a clandestine, malevolent, Big Brother mystery undetectable document, however Apple has been officially sluggish in their programming, which is the main driver of most information holes on the iPhone."

Security master and rehash Pwn2Own champion Charlie Miller was marginally less cynical about who can get to the record, however concurred that it wouldn't be insignificant for an accomplished iPhone tinkerer.

"This record is just discernable by root. That implies that a rebel App Store application won't have the capacity to peruse it. Indeed, even a terrible person who hacks into your program won't have the capacity to peruse it," Miller told Ars. Nonetheless, remote programmers can make utilization of two separate adventures—a code execution misuse and a benefit acceleration abuse—which Miller brings up have been accessible before as jailbreakme.com (an instrument that enabled clients to escape their gadgets through a Web page on the Internet).

Despite the fact that Apple tries to fix security astonishingly up, the escape group is always taking a shot at better approaches to access beforehand prohibited documents—if something like Jailbreakme existed some time recently, it could exist once more.

"It is awful for security this record exists, particularly when it doesn't appear to be connected to a specific element that gives any advantage," Miller said. "[T]here is no simple approach to wipe the information from it."

Suggestions for Apple

Zdziarski says the iPhone has really been logging this area information for longer than a year, yet it wasn't so effortlessly open before the dispatch of iOS 4 in mid-2010.

"The iPhone has been keeping reserves of client area information for a long while now. iOS 4 made it somewhat less demanding to get to, however law requirement has been utilizing information like this since around 2009 to assemble prove against hoodlums utilizing the iPhone," Zdziarski told Ars. "Comparative information has been reserved in various documents preceding iOS 4. [The reserve uncovered today] is more forceful and brought together, making it simpler to access by typical people."

Apple did not react to our inquiries regarding to what extent it has been logging the area information, yet unmistakably the reason the issue is becoming known now is a direct result of this simple get to. Zdziarski included that the iPhone by and large "releases like a sifter," and cautioned that purchasers ought to consider the conceivable ramifications to their own protection with today's disclosure.

Protection backers are making things a stride promote by getting out Apple for manhandling client trust. "Apple makes them disclose to do. iPhone proprietors put a lot of trust in Apple, and Apple has an obligation not to manhandle that trust," Princeton University Center for Information Technology Policy specialist and standard Ars patron Timothy B. Lee said.

"This occurrence brings up issues about whether Apple is not kidding about client security," Lee proceeded. "In the event that this was a mischance, Apple needs to settle the issue and set up methodology to ensure it doesn't occur once more. In the event that the information is being gathered purposely, maybe in readiness for a future item, Apple ought to have unmistakably advised clients and given them a chance to quit."

Apple revealed to Congress last July that all area information gathered by the iPhone stays private. As per Apple lead direct Bruce Sewell, Apple does gather unknown area information from iPhones with an end goal to enhance its own particular database of cell tower and WiFi hotspot areas, however that it just does this with client assent. The revelation made by Allan and Warden obviously demonstrates this is going on always without express assent like Apple treats GPS, be that as it may, and it beyond any doubt isn't mysterious when it's open specifically from the client's gadget.

[ao3feed-castiel]

Unanimously Anomalous

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2O8B1ve

by Jocosely_Wincestuous

Much like in all other aspects of biology, the Alpha, Beta, Omega system doesn't fit everyone so neatly. There are outliers, people living their lives outside of the trichotomy they're forced to put so much stock into. Some go through their entire lives without presenting at all, some present with traits of multiple subsexes, and others just know their presentation is incorrect. Being made to feel like a freak isn't an abnormal occurrence for members of these groups, almost being tricked into thinking that their bodies are inherently wrong, some kind of cosmic mistake that requires correcting. Dean Winchester understands this blurred line of reality and walks it everyday of his life. Presenting as both an alpha and omega as a teenager made him consider his options in life with a father who can't stand male omegas; he left the second he had the chance and is having a go at college away from home. This massive change seems like it might be made easier by an unlikely group of friends, so maybe it won't be so bad after all. Please note that I am coming from this concept as a transgender and intersex individual myself, this isn't about fetishization, it's about life experiences that parallel my own and others like me.

Words: 3783, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English

Fandoms: Supernatural

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte, Kevin Tran, Gabriel (Supernatural), Charlie Bradbury, Original Male Character(s)

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Castiel & Dean Winchester, Benny Lafitte/Original Character(s), Benny Lafitte/Original Male Character(s)

Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Multipresenter, Nonpresenter, Transpresenting, Omega Verse, Alpha Dean Winchester, Omega Dean Winchester, Omega Castiel (Supernatural), Omega Castiel/Alpha Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Dysphoria, Body Dysphoria, trans feels, Intersex Feels, Alternate Universe - College/University, John Winchester Being an Asshole

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/2O8B1ve